Heyoo my wonderful readers! :D Hope you're enjoying your times and days because while you are having fun, because I am slaving away on this and the next Contracted chapter. -.- yay for you guys… lol Hope ya'll enjoy this piece because, while I haven't written it yet… I know it's gonna be a bitch. So many things I've never tried writing before and so many different ways it can go wrong *sigh*

Chapter Title: 'Cause I Know I Don't Belong Here in Heaven

Guess what song that is from and you get a special mention and maybe a little gift! :)

*Don't Own*

I cuss them out and yell at Lauren for not helping, but they all laugh at me. Eventually I float over to the rope handle and grab on, gulping in fear. I stare at it, then the boat, seeing Lauren wave as spotter. Nibbling at my lip, the boat speeds up, slowly at first, then quick acceleration while I force the water skis to point straight up, panicking when the feel of the boat's speed pulls through the rope by association.

It isn't long before I'm standing up on shaky legs, flying over smooth water as Dad drives me around the empty bay. I take my time to bask in the lake spray and the sun. Bending my elbows lightly to readjust my grip, I decide that maybe, just maybe, waterskiing isn't too horrible and that maybe I should spend more quality time at the lake house.

That is, until a wave passes from under the boat and heads towards me. With wide eyes, I scream, "Stop the boat!" Smooth sailing is now out of the picture, and that waves mean turbulence and turbulence means me falling into the water and slamming hard with water up my nose and mouth.

The wave smashes into her, my knees buckling slightly before bending for proper shock absorbance. I can faintly hear my dad yell out, "See? She's a natural!"

I want to scream back at him, yell and say that he was a crazy maniac for shoving me in the water, but as I witness another wave heading my way, I instead repeat, "Stop the boat! You're going to kill me!" All heads on the boat turn my way just as I shriek and glide off the thing, wobbling on unsteady skis. My grip on the wet handle tightens to a death grip and my eyes pinprick with tears.

Through the spray, wind, and tears I can see my dad's head throw back in a laugh and I don't need to look at Lauren's face to know that she's rolling her eyes. My older sister always loved the water, even enough to go to Colorado and barefoot ski, but me? No, water isn't my thing.

"If you want to stop, just let go of the rope, honey!"

That was Mom, sweet yet chiding voice carrying on the turbulent winds to my ears. She had walked from the ship's bow to the back, allowing Lauren to move up front instead.

Images flash into my mind; images of me letting go of the rope and skipping across the water like a stone as the water slaps me harshly in the face and the skis fly about, hitting me brusquely. I gulp nervously, dry throat painfully convulsing.

"Stop the boat!" I scream again hoarsely, pitifully. Tears are streaming down my face and I hiccup. I don't want to go in the water again, and I can't swim with these stupid skis on!

"Let go of the rope!" Mom again. This time with less patience. She seemed almost angry.

Finally my eyes catch on to the perpetrator. A sleek speed boat zooms by, next to me and my dad's pontoon. With a whoop, Dad jerks perpendicular to its path. We'd hit the waves straight on.

He must have his shit-eating grin on, right about now.

"Stop the boat!" I screech, staring wide-eyed at the huge waves that were slowly approaching. I could only reconcile my fear slightly with the fact that our boat would minimize the waves' size. That is, until Dad turned ever so slightly to fling me and my skis outside of his wake.

I hear his words call back to me again, "Relax, baby girl! It's fun!" He cackles and revs the speed up.

"Stop the boat!" I cry again, gripping so tightly on the handle that my hands hurt. The waves are so close, almost here…

"LET GO!"

The next thing I know, water flies into my face and up my nostrils, punching me icily in the face.

I wake up, horribly drenched. The cool streams of water that matt down my hair flow down into my eyes, across my nose, and trickled down my back. I shiver as goose bumps raise on my skin.

Great, the whiplash of the boat knocked me out cold, I groaned in my mind, still groggy from sleep.

Sputtering for a moment and spitting out excess liquid, I wipe the water from my eyes until my blurry vision solidifies into actual shapes and colors. Then the brightness hits me. Swirls of rainbows, dull and bright, sway front of me, pulsing and circulating as it comes closer and closer. My skin burns against the onslaught for a moment.

"Gah!" I yelp, closing my eyes instantly. The past few years fly back at me: the Shinigami, Minato, training and learning, being sent back to the living. Not being able to tell a difference from dream and reality. It really has been a long time since I've dreamed. Lauren, Dad, Mom… I miss my family so much, even their stupid antics that I've always hated.

The mixture of color dies down to black with lines of bright blue and silver, the latter in lithe forms pervading my sight. Silver, well that's a new one, I think, my mouth quirking up to a wry smile.

Taking a quick peek, I see a black cat with intelligent green eyes sitting on my sheet-covered legs. I blink in confusion when I notice that the animal is wearing a similarly green kimono, lined with gold and fishnet. I blink again when I register the pale gold sheet, covering me up. Last I remember, I was falling into a happy slumber in the grass. My muscles tense in suspicion and panic.

This is definitely not grass.

"Ah, mā ima koneko wa mewosamasu." My head whips to the side at the jumble of sounds, coming eye-to-eye with squinty, narrowed eyes, almost like a cat. In fact, the person who talked is very cat-like, her nose blackened like that of a cat's and her large ponytail, grey and fanning out behind her like a mane, is held by a hybrid elastic-headband with black cat ears.

Taken aback for a moment, my mouth flounders and the old woman's wizened lips curl up in a smirk. I feel a shifting on my bed as the black cat stands, stretches, and pads over to her. Reaching a tiny paw up, the feline swats at the elder's beige scarf, a rumbling purr emanating from its chest. As casually as I could, I attempt to reach down and grasp a knife from one of my pouches, but all I brush against is bare leg. My breathing picks up in dread and I can hear my heartbeat in my ears.

The world blazes in colors for a moment, overwhelming me, and nothing I do can calm me down. With one eye painfully shut, I watch the newcomer like a hawk and try to beat away the incoming headache due to the onslaught.

The grey-haired female casually lifts the cat under its front legs, pets it for a moment, and then lays it down on the ground with several others. My eyes flash. Silver. I rub at my eyes. The colors are all gone.

Blinking rapidly, I realize I missed what the woman had said. I ask, "I'm sorry, ma'am, what did you say?" With a cautiously polite smile, I turn my torso to better face the wrinkled woman, who is now brushing black fur off her orange kimono. My knuckles turn white with how tight I'm clenching them under the sheets.

A sharp glance at me, her closed eyes open minimally so I witness dark brown orbs flashing in their sockets. She opens her mouth as if she's about to say something, but someone beats her to it.

"Obaa-chan!Kanojo ni mizu o danpu shinaide kudasai! Sore wa shitsureida!" My eyebrows furrow. That definitely isn't English. Woefully sighing, I focus on the newcomer. This time, the speaker is a young girl clad in an orange dress and fishnet stockings. Her collar climbs high on her neck, right where her dark brown hair stops underneath her chin. Wide brown eyes turn to face me for a moment before turning to the older lady with a rebuking expression.

The old woman scoffs, waving the girl off and saying, "Kuchidome-ko ā, wareware wa kono yōna hōmuresu no koneko no tame no hinanshode wanai! Kanojo wa furīrōdā!" Whatever she said seems to irritate the girl.

I blink, looking back and forth between the two people speaking gibberish. I cannot understand a word they are saying, yet for some reason, the consonants and vowels and syllables sound familiar. The inflections of a's and the way the sounds flowed and cut short without drawing them out. I cock my head to the side.

I suddenly remember the scrolls and mentally smack myself on the forehead. Of course, foreign place. I'm in Minato's home world.

My eyes narrow in thought. But how come I could understand Minato? Did they know English?

Clenching and unclenching my hands in worry, I glance between the two as they bicker in unknown consonants and syllables. I don't even know if I should attempt to talk to them or not, whether they are friend or foe. The younger girl's face reddens as her voice picks up into a high squeak before tearing a glance at my blanched face. Her face turns redder when she continues to seemingly scold the old woman, shit-eating grin plastered on her wrinkled face.

Fuck it, I think, annoyed. This is too much worrying for a girl who already died once.

Taking a deep intake of air, I speak up brazenly, "Umm, do you speak English?" Their chattering stops and the two look at me with confused eyes. Or, more accurately, stoic boredom from the senior and compassionate concern from the girl.

I'll just take that as a no. And now they're looking at me like I'm crazy.

The younger of the two ladies perks up quickly though, mortaring on a sweet smile, albeit a little worried. My eye twitches at the look and a growl builds in my throat. I'm fine, damnit. She speaks with concerned tones, "Anata o mezamete mōshiwakearimasen, Obaa-chan wa, watashitachi dakedearu koto ni shiyō sa rete iru... Shikashi, anata wa dono yō ni kanjite imasu ka?"

I bite my lip. I couldn't quite understand her, but… for some reason the words sounded so familiar. I reach my hand up to run my fingers through my tangled and damp hair, pulling at all the snarls. I hold back the wave of anxiousness and avert my eyes.

They narrow and glare as I spy the bucket on the ground that a pale tan cat clad in a red kimono and white sash is circling in. My ears pick up a light splashing as the animal pads around with a happy look on its face. Lifting its head, the cat looked at me, its tail straight up and twitching. It paws at the dark three whisker marks on either side of its face with a wet paw.

Staring at me, its mouth widens.

Upon seeing my silence, the girl hastily added, "Ah! Gomen'nasai, hijō ni shitsurei." She blushes daintily and pushes a few strands of her short brown hair behind her ear. Taking a step closer to my bedside, she continues, "Watashi wa Tamaki da, to asoko ni watashi no Obaa-chan wa Nekobaa desu! Watashitachiha, anata ga Sōraku, ima shite iru o mise o jikkō shite kudasai!"

I scowl at her liveliness, glancing between her and what I presume to be her Grandma. At least the elder woman seems wary of me like a normal person should be. I mean, I'm an unknown threat who is now in their home. From what I remember about Minato's stories, taking someone you don't know into your care is an acute threat to one's wellbeing. If I were them, I'd be afraid that I was sent to kill them or something.

Unless… my eyes dart to the young girl glad in orange. Looking her up and down, I note her scrawny arms and bony knees. Her eyes are soft and kind, innocent. She looked like she was maybe thirteen and weighed about one hundred pounds.

She doesn't look like a ninja and she hadn't a headband but…

Minato's pearly smile and happy blue eyes meet my vision.

You never know.

I don't answer or even try to understand what she says, instead taking the opportunity to look around my surroundings. I am in a circular room, floor covered with a plush rug dyed the colors of the sunrise. Behind the two females is drooping sheets, parted and held by a hook as if the cloth is a door. That particular article is white and scuffed.

I am on a bed, now wet due to the water I can only guess came from the bucket. It is quite comfy, now that I pay attention, and it was so nice to no longer feel suffocated by those wrappings.

I pause, ignoring more words that flow from the old woman's mouth as she leaves the girl in the room with me. Somehow, once I again, I am naked. Gloriously and unceremoniously bereft of any clothing.

Blushing furiously, I pull the bed's pale gold covers up to my still smaller than usual chest and glare accusingly at the room's other occupant. If I spoke their language, oh the amount of swears and cuss words she would hear would have scarred her. Instead, she remains innocently oblivious to my thoughts and stares right back with a delicate frown on her face.

Gesturing to her side, where a dresser stands, the girl opens her mouth to those foreign words again: "Mōshiwakearimasenga, anata no kizu o kirei ni shi, anata no hone o settei suru hitsuyō ga arimashita. Anata ga warui katachi ni atta. Ninneko wa anata ga chi o sumeruto to nobeta." She stands there for a moment, expecting me to follow her pointing with my gaze, but it doesn't waver from her face. I will not let her out of my sight.

I don't trust them. There is no room to trust them.

As we sit here, silent standoff growing larger, I break the tension. Nodding as if I understand, she lets out a nervous smile. She cheerily twitters, "Ē to, watashi wa anata ga yoi kanji o negatte imasu. Anata ga nanika o hitsuyō to surunara, watashi ni renraku shite kudasai." Without another second, she spins on her heel and skips off, unhooking the cloth behind her.

I eye the closed curtains. No shadows or movement outside of the cats circling and meowing.

Then I look over to the bureau the girl pointed at. Laying there were my clothes, pouches and canteen. Next to them is that stupid mask, too.

I release a breath I didn't know I was holding. Good, they didn't steal my stuff, assuming that everything is still in them, that is. Smirking, I lick my dry lips.

I need to leave, as soon as possible. Where to, I had no idea. But preferably to somewhere open and with many people where I didn't have to worry about being killed off with no one there to hear my screams. Then I could decide what to do there. Maybe find a way to get back home to my parents.

I'd have to find a way to convince them it is actually me and not some faker posing as their dead daughter, but I would deal with that when the time came.

Shifting, I move to stand.

"Koko de, hon o taberu," a scratchy voice comes. Jolting in the bed and colors sparking in the corners of my vision, I turn back towards the sheets to see the cat lady standing there, a group of three more cats twirling around her ankles and meowing. I calm my erratic breathing and loosen my coiled muscles. My eyes catch something in her hands and my nose picks up something heavenly.

In her hands is a bowl of what appears to be steaming beef. I look her in the eye. She stares straight back without a flinch. "Taberu."

She nudges the bowl towards me. I bite my lip and take it; it smells so good. My stomach growls in anticipation as my will weakens. Food, I croon in my head, suddenly remembering the minimal bills and coins in my possession. I know I should be more cautious, but I'll have to take risks sometime to survive here, and I'd rather the risk be trusting someone giving me free food than attempting to steal food later on when my resources die out.

I take another look at the woman. Now she's holding out a pair of chopsticks. With a light smile, I roll my eyes. Minato, you are so Asain.

In a better mood, I bow my head and accept the meal with a grin, fumbling with the two wooden sticks in my hand. I stick my tongue out playfully when the lady snorts in amusement at my clumsiness, and instead grapple with the utensils to stick the food in my mouth.

And immediately spit it up.

"This is cat food!" I holler, scowling down at my bowl. I squint accusatorily at the woman, who is now guffawing at my face, her black nose scrunched up in mirth. The more she laughs, the more my face convulses in annoyance.

"Obaa-chan! On'nanoko no neko no esa o kyōkyū shinaide kudasai!" The young girl is back, admonishing the cackling woman with a wooden spoon in her hand. Puffing out her cheeks at the woman's antics, she snatched the bowl from my hands and replaced it with another one, this time filled with steaming soup.

I watch the girl closely. Her movements are fast; not as fast as Minato, but fast. My own hand twitches in response. I holster my own amusement at the granny's prank and replace is again with suspicion.

"Kanojo wa, Tamaki furīrōdādesu! Wareware wa in janai, kanojo wa beddo o motte rakkīdesu!" the old woman says with a scowl, but there is a new warmth to her eyes. She glances at my frowning face once and chokes again on laughter.

I may not understand completely the words they spoke, but I understand the tone. It reminds me of Lauren's tone when I did something stupid or embarrassing, and my hearts warms at the nostalgia.

I chuckle, waving the girl's reprimand off. "I'm fine," I joke, even though I know they don't understand. Putting the bowl of soup down on the nightstand next to me, I smile brightly, mischief dancing all over my face. "In fact, I'm so hungry that shit tastes delish!"

I reach out for my first bowl, the one full of cat food. The girl hesitates, regarding at the woman besides her bawling with mirthful tears, choking out wizened laughter. I wave the bowl over again, however this time, I get what I want and receive the mush from her hands. Winking at the granny with a playful smile, I chomp a full mouth of cat food.

My eyes water at the taste, but I ignore it as the grandma laughs heartily. I smile gleefully in return when the young girl shakes her head with a sigh, sending a small smile my way before leaving.

The woman flashes me a grin. "Watashi wa, koreha mae ni mo ittaga, shitte iru..." she says, looking me in the eye. She then points to her chest, puffing it out like a mighty bird while squinting her eyes and curling up her lips like a cat. "Nekobaa."

Looking at her, my smile wilts. I scrunch up my face for a moment, then point to myself hesitantly. "Sheigh…" I pause, then, "Blanchette Sheigh."

Nekobaa purses her lips for a moment, but nods nonetheless. With slow words, she continues, "Anata wa shinobi, Sheigh?"

I stop the soup spoon at my lips without taking a sip. Shinobi. Shinobi. Why does that sound so familiar?

Something about it bugs me. When the girl and Nekobaa speak, it seems… familiar. Not just the familiar as in I heard the words before or the language, but familiar as in I knew what they were saying. Like how I feel whenever someone says a Spanish word to which I had intermittently forgotten the meaning.

She takes my quietness as confusion and shakes her head. This time, she points at me, then her leg, and says, "Crack!" I blink then look at my legs. Slowly rolling the sheets up—my cheeks heat up when I remember that I am still naked—my eyes widen when I look down. My right thigh is heavily bandaged and numb.

I glance back up, panic-stricken. Did they do this so I couldn't escape? Fuck, I knew I shouldn't trust these people! That young girl is probably a ninja, just like this woman, too, and they are going to-!

Nekobaa suddenly flares up bright and blinding blue and my ears thump and thump with blood rushing through me. Until a sound break through the beat.

Laughing again, the lady shakes her head, as if knowing my thoughts. Again, a finger her leg, then layers one hand crookedly atop the other—"Crack!"—points to me—"Ai ai ai!"—points to herself, then pulls the hands apart until they were level, and back to the leg. "Wareware wa sore o shūsei shimashita. Idō ikenai," she croaks out again brazenly, shaking her head in the negative, then walking in place.

In any other situation, I'd probably be laughing at the hilarity of her movements, but it just so happens that these stupid dances are how… Nekobaa is trying to communicate. With a frown I think through her movements, decoding the charades in an attempt to understand. Whispering, I ask, "How long?"

I try to sit up but she pushes me down, a hard look on her face. I don't think she understands me, because she shakes her head again and leaves.

I watch her departure for a moment, then turn back to the soup. My leg felt fine before I passed out, I am sure of it. At least, I think I was sure of it. Yesterday is almost a blur of pain and blood and tiredness.

I sniff the soup. Poison is always a viable worry, but they would have had an easier job by just killing me in my sleep. That and I have already taken a bite of cat food. I hit myself mentally for the stunt.

Maybe they didn't poison that though, and only the soup? After all, their dear pets could accidently eat it after I die and travel to the afterlife with me, and I'm sure they don't want that. Besides, who would leave someone you thought of as a prisoner or even a threat alone, even if their leg is broken? I've seen way too many movies to underestimate an injured enemy, and these people will actually die because of that mistake instead of just gasping at the comeback from the safety of their couch.

So, did they even think of me as a threat? Why had they taken me here and "treated" me? Should I consider them as a threat?

Who am I kidding, in my condition, everything and everyone is a threat. The lifeless and cold eyes of the men in the temple flash back into my thoughts. My blood freezes in my veins and my stomach drops like lead. There are too many unknowns and no way of getting answers.

My head hurts from thinking; this life of paranoia isn't my life. Or at least, it wasn't supposed to be.

With a growl, I begin eating again with ferocious hunger. Fuck it, the only thing worse than dying again would be dying again hungry. If the soup is poisoned, at least I'd be full.

I gulp the food down ravenously, sloppily wiping my mouth with the back of my arm when I finish. Stealing a glance at the entrance to my room and seeing no movement, I throw the covers off me. I flinch, noticing a varying degree of purples, reds, and yellows scattered across my chest and arms. I note they go down my legs, too.

Taking a painful bite on my lips, I mutter weakly, "Damn, how could I not notice these?" I lean down and wince as I grip the bandages on my leg, unwrapping them without too much jostling. The bruise there is a lot bigger and nastier, but still seems to be pretty old, a couple days at the very least.

Surveying my skin, I can see a scar, pink flesh peeking from in between a jagged line. The skin hasn't start to curl up into white tissue yet, so the mark must be new. It cut straight down my right thigh, thin at the top before spreading to a rosy bulge. I tap my finger against it lightly, only to feel the faintest brush of a sensation. I frown.

Despite knowing it to be a bad idea and the agony and damage it could do, I still bend my knee to test it out. Blinking when there is no resistance or pain, I grin from ear to ear.

"Sweet." Good as new.

Sliding off the bed as stealthily as possible, I place a finger to my lips as the cats inhabiting the room stare at me. The one in the bucket jumps out and shakes off, figure eighting sleekly around my legs. Stumbling awkwardly around the animal, I forge my way to the dresser. It must be taller than I thought, because my chest barely reached the top of it.

Ignoring the wriggling in my mind bugging me about this fact, I slip the tan shirt back around my shoulders. After securing the sash, I check the pouches. Everything is still there.

At least some things could go right in my life. Dandy.

I secure those, too, and tie the mask around my neck so that the clay surface scratches against my back.

I jump when another feline appears in front of me, next to my canteen. Bushy and light brown, it sits with one paw on the container. Scowling, I mutter, "Move, kitty, I gotta go." Brushing my hand lightly against the cat's blue kimono, I snatch the canteen away.

"You know, you shouldn't leave, nya" a patient voice warbles from behind me. I freeze. So people here do know how to speak English, or at least whoever this newcomer is did.

I ask pleasantly enough, on edge, "Who said I was leaving?" Turning around with tense muscles, I see nobody. Only cats.

Another voice picks up from behind me again saying, "We can smell it. Your suspicion and fear that is." This voice is rougher than the first, probably male. But… no one else is in here…

"I'm not afraid," I snarl, closing my eyes. Blue, I think, concentrating for half a minute before the effects follow. The color bleeds into my senses when I open my eyes: two blots of blue burning a whiles off, maybe a couple rooms or down a hall. Other than that, nothing other than myself, and certainly no sign of the glowing light in this room. I can't hold the color long before my head hurts, but I force it to stay, flinging my hair back and forth as I whip my head around to search.

Nothing.

But then, who is talking to me?

"Wow, you really aren't from around here, are you?" the gentler voice speaks. "I mean, you have a weird name like Blanchette and you speak foreign, nya. That and you think you can fool a ninneko's nose. Right Denka?"

"Of course, Hina. This Sheigh girl is quite different than our humans," the second voice speculates.

I sneer angrily, colors flashing into my sight briefly before disappearing. There was the usual purple dots invading my vision, but that damn silver color surrounds me, blinding my eyes. Jerking my hands to cover my face, I snarl, "What the fuck is that supposed to mean? And Blanchette is not a weird name!" I didn't mean it to come out like a whine, I really didn't, but somehow it does.

The light cat wearing the red kimono hops up onto the bed and purrs, walking towards me. I look at it warily. If cats could snicker…

"And we have these partners, called summons! If you sign a contract with their boss and are accepted, they help you in battle and other stuff," Minato's voice drifts from somewhere in my mind like a whisper. I harshly try to shake it out. "I had a summoning contract for Toads, and we always went out to drink with my teacher, Jaraiya, who holds the toad summoning contract. They really are amazing; they can use chakra like the Inuzuka's ninken can but to a higher degree and they can even talk! Honestly, I think they are smarter than we are…"

"Summons?" It's supposed to be a statement, but it is born more like a question. I curse the uncertainty in my voice.

The cat in front of me smiles widely as the feline from the dresser hurdles over my shoulder and onto the bed as well, causing me to stumble backwards and off balance in surprise. "Hina," the tan one says in a soothing voice, lifting its tan paw outwards. I blink for a second before reaching out my hand, shaking her paw.

The other one, grinning as well, intones, "Denka." He then bows his head is greeting.

Groaning, I hold my head in my hands. "Of course, summons. Because talking cats are normal," I murmur. Raking my fingers through knotted hair, my other hand finds rest in one of the pouches on my thigh, causing me to bend over slightly. I try to mask the posture by leaning against the dresser. "How do you know English, though?" I ask curiously while stroking one of the sharp weapons in my possession. My eyes flash to the cats briefly then back to the cloth door. I could maybe use the knife as a distraction, knock the beasts off their game long enough for me to run as long as the two people don't notice me.

The blue blobs representing who I could only assume are Nekobaa and her granddaughter are now separated, but still further from where I am. The splitting headache forming forces me to close my eyes and block the colors out, but I still sigh inwardly in relief.

Hina is the one who answers: "English? Is that what your language is called?" I nod cautiously, wincing when I accidently cut a thumb on the knife. I wince again when the cat's sharp eyes land on the pouch said thumb is hiding in. She doesn't comment on it though, instead continuing, "Well, either way, language is no barrier to any summon. Words are said and simply understood, nya."

I slowly lick my lips with my suddenly dry tongue.

"Ok," I play into their conversation, "then why shouldn't I leave? I have no reason to trust you or them and they have no reason to trust me." My eyes shift down as Denka's claws unsheathe, pinpricking the sheet ever so slightly. He takes care to lick his lips in an agonizing manner, subtly showing off sharp teeth. Sharp, pointy teeth that definitely would hurt.

"Oh, no reason to trust them other than the fact that they set your leg and fed you," Denka hissed, his smiling mouth now set to a snarl.

Against the little voice in my head, I growl right back, "There was nothing wrong with my leg when I got here." My muscles tense. I don't know how, but a brittle tension unfurls around the three of us. How a tension could build among a girl and two cats, I'll never know. And honestly, I think that I'm taking this whole talking cat thing extremely well for someone who didn't believe in ninjas.

And the fact that I just thought to words "talking cat" and "ninja" without feeling in the least bit crazy surely had to mean I am, in at least the most miniscule of amounts, in fact insane.

Hina languidly stretches and looks at me, opening her eyes enough for me to see amber before they shut again. "You were walking on a leg that healed with the bone overlapped, probably without pain due to adrenaline or drugs or something, nya." She says it as if it were a given. Like drugs and living through a broken femur thanks to adrenaline is a regular thing. Then again, it probably is.

I stiffen. Well, I definitely had a lot of stuff on my mind last time I was awake. Grunting, I push myself off the piece of furniture, striding to the cloth that separated my room from the rest of the building. Peering out of it, I make sure to send one last cautious glower at the two grinning cats. I smile back with what I hope is a reassuring smile and say, "Maybe you're right."

I stand there for a moment, heart pounding. The brown one, Denka, sits down and begins to clean himself loudly. Then Hina opens her maw in a yawn.

I bolt.

"At least learn how to speak the language, girl!"

I barely register these words as I sprint away, feet pounding against the floor.

I clench my teeth. Shinobi. That word specifically rang true in my mind.

Shaking it off—I don't have the energy to waste on such matters right now—I race through the halls and ignore my already screaming muscles, searching for any place where I could escape. All I see are pale red walls, crumbling slightly and marred with scuffs. Rusty pipes contour the ceilings as well, occasionally letting out a soft hissing or a loud clank, but at least there is plenty of ambient light from the plentiful windows barred down and lining the walls. Earlier, I had tried sneaking through them, but was stopped in my tracks by the bars. Luckily the wind could still pass through though, because otherwise the hallway would be impressively hot, and I am sweating like crazy as is. The floors are layered with dirt and dust, paw prints and footprints imbued in certain places.

That and the cats all walking about me. Some are, dare I say this word about a cat, naked, while others are dressed similarly to the two summons back in my room or wearing other articles of clothing. These are the ones I worry about, the ones that gaze up at me curiously with their squinting eyes and permanently grinning mouths. Every time they pass, I'm on edge, but none of them make a move on me. They all just walk on by and I continue to run.

My mouth is puffing and my lungs are begging for respite, but I know I can't stop until I'm out. Hina and Denka or whatever those hell cats are called could have alerted Nekobaa and her girl by now. They could be hunting me down and I still have no idea where the exit is. I haven't even ran into a turn or fork once.

I feel my ire and anxiety rise as more and more straight halls stretch before me without change. It gets harder and harder to force the air into my lungs, like the air itself is iron. It is heavy and unwieldy and just so full, weighing down greatly in my lungs. Wheezing and choking on it, I push myself as hard as I can.

A painful jolt spiders up my right leg, branching out and into my hip. I falter, tripping on my own feet and face planting. Swallowing deep breaths, I stare down at my injured leg with trepidation, almost waiting for the shiny pink line to split open and pour blood. When it doesn't, I release the air I didn't know I was holding captive. I attempt to get back up, but more pain hits me and I fall back on my ass. I know I should cursing or spitting in anger or fear, but for some reason, I giggle.

Pain. I bite my lip anxiously. No matter how sick it is, I think with slight remorse, this is proof of my life. No matter who I took this life from, I am alive. I press the heel of my hand to my eyes in an attempt to stop incoming tears. I tremble to stand back up once again, pain trailing my every movement, but I still smile. Tears still stream down my face happily, and I can't help but hate myself for it.

"Shit," I choke out, closing my eyes and gritting my teeth. "This is so fucked up." I laugh, a mixture of joy and moroseness that just shouldn't exist.

"Now that is no way for a lady to speak, Miss."

"Yeah, thanks for the advice. Like I haven't heard that piece before," I bite, still grinning from ear to ear. Wait…

Spinning clumsily around my wounded leg, I spy another cat sitting right behind my heels. As soon as our eyes meet, the feline stands up smoothly and circles round me for a moment. My cautious eyes follow its every movement, every twitch of the tail.

Halting its pacing in order to face me again, it blinks before speaking up in a rich voice, "Pardon my incivility, Miss, but my name is Haiiro." With a flourish of its tail, the animal leans down as if in a bow.

"Haiiro," I deadpan, clenching and unclenching my cut fingers. I allow my focus to change from my surroundings to my senses, noting how the fuzzy blue balls of chakra still far enough off to be safe.

"It means Grey, Miss," the thing purrs. I flash my gaze back to it, only to get stunned by silver light.

Scrunching my eyes quickly, I mutter back, "Sheigh," I quickly intervene, "Blanchette Sheigh."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Sheigh." For some reason, his politeness just sounds so condescending.

"Yeah, well my acquaintance is leaving, so don't get too used to it, furball," I answer gruffly. I rub at my eyes momentarily then continue to walk through the longest hallway I've ever been in. I hear a vicious hiss beside me as a grey blur passes in front of me, tripping me up. "Hey, watch it!" I yelp, doing my best to avoid paws and tails.

"If it would not offend you," the cat purrs with a too wide smile, "I would say you are quite a boorish woman, Miss Sheigh."

Blinking for a moment, my eyes soon narrow in on the animal. "Yet you say it anyway, furball," I mock, crossing my arms in front of my chest. I see why his name is grey: the cat's sleek body is covered head to toe in shining grey fur, the only deviation from this being small white tufts between the pads of his paws. Not only that, but his eyes, which are quite big in proportion to his face, are the same exact color as said fur. He would be completely monochromatic if not for the open lavender vest he wore.

That and the violet scroll almost the same size as his body resting at his hip.

His big grey eyes shimmer for a moment before turning steel cool and detachedly polite. A playful smile pulls at his dark lips. "Moving on," he croons, ignoring my comment entirely, "may I inquire as to what you are doing?"

My fingers twitch in annoyance. "No, you may not," I bark, marching away and ignoring the pain in my leg. But the damned pest is persistent, and sticks right by me.

"Where are you going? I presumed that you wished to leave," the smooth voice of Haiiro carries. Searching for the summon, I discover his perplexed face staring me down.

Grunting in affirmation, I say, "Yeah, that's why I'm walking, idiot." I scoff and try to ignore my companion.

Without letting go of his confused face, Haiiro replies, "Well, I understand that, Miss Sheigh, but you're just walking in circles." Raising one paw high up, the cat beckons me towards him. "This leads to the exit."

I glance back at the grey cat and harshly suck in my teeth, eye twitching violently. "You are pointing towards a wall, you damn cat," I seethe. Rolling my eyes, I twirl away and begin to walk off, fuming.

"You are trapped in the genjutsu that protects this location," he speaks, a tremor of annoyance in his tone, before beckoning to me once again. "And if I'm correct, you are not quite sure how to dispel it." If Haiiro hadn't been speaking with such articulate politeness, I would say he is being smug.

"Yeah? And why should I trust the words of a cat over my own sight?" I ask, questioning his claims as I walk. After all, he's more than likely Nekobaa's summon and could just be following her commands.

His purring voice reaches my ears, "I assure you that I am a gentleman cat, and as a gentleman cat, it is my duty to aid the damsel in distress. And you, my damsel, appear to be in distress."

I swear, this cat knows just how to piss me off. I pause and turn around, my face bright red in anger. Opening my mouth to spit out insults and curses, the feline beat me to it.

"You are lost here, no? Can you really afford to refuse help when offered, Miss Sheigh? I honestly just wish to aid you," he says seriously, padding up to my aching form. We stare at each other for a few moments, my eyes guarded while his are piercing. Not only that, but they are also pitying, sad, sympathetic. They make me swallow nervously.

"I am neither a damsel nor am I in distress," I murmur.

In a sudden movement, Haiiro lunges and jumps high. I flinch backwards and run my back into wall, eyes wide in apprehension and hands moving up in defense. However, it was all for naught as Haiiro gracefully lands, sure-footed, on my shoulders. Digging in sharp claws to my shoulders, the cat rumbles a deep and calming purr.

The skin where he sits burns and tingles, my shoulder muscles spasming, and Haiiro calls out in my ear, "Release!"

There's a shift in the air as my head spins transitorily before the world in front of me shimmers. A second later, the musky, rose colored hall that spanned far past my sight is replaced with a small square room with three halls branching off. Yelping, my eyes burn for a moment from disorientation.

I look down at the dusty floors, allowing my sight to refocus when I can see a trail of footprints circling the room multiple times as well as the unsettling of dust signifying where I had fallen down prior. I look down the hall to my right to see one set of tracks walking into the small room, but no tracks to signal a person ever leaving through any of the other paths. The walls are no longer red, but now a rich blue, though the pipes are still present. No windows, the light comes from small electronic torches hanging high on the walls. The air is completely stagnant.

My mouth flounders and I rub at my eyes. Suddenly woozy, I slowly stumble down onto my hands and knees, Haiiro opting to jump off and stand on his own for the time being.

Panting, I turn and face the cat. "Wha-what did you do?" My arms are trembling and my legs are wobbly. My eyes prick slightly with tears.

Eying me with worry, Haiiro answers, "I just disrupted the genjutsu's chakra patterning with a burst of my own chakra. This is where you truly are right now."

I glance at him, feeling even more lost now than ever before. Seriously, just fuck this place and all its craziness. I can't even trust my own senses. I am so useless here.

My body stiffens and chokes out the tears and anxiety. "Which way is out," I croak weakly, fumbling for my canteen. Luckily, it's filled with water and I gulp it down greedily.

I know that Haiiro must see all the water spilt due to my shaking hands, but he respectfully pretends to be blind to it. The liquid spills down my chin and on to my clothes. It's soon followed by liquid dripping down my cheeks as well as I hug my knees to my chest. So easily fooled. How am I going to survive in this world if I'm so easily strung along?

"Fuck," I mumble feebly. "At least the windows and breeze could have been real, I'm dying here," I joke, trying to laugh it off but somehow end up choking down a sob.

Suddenly, Haiiro is by my ankle and digging his teeth into my flesh. "Ow! You mangy cat!"

Turning angry eyes on the grey summon, I find it looking at me steadily. Out of the blue, a satisfied smirk graces his features. "I said that the exit is over there," he rumbles assuredly with a flick of his tail.

I open my mouth for a second before closing it silently. Smiling a small smile, I wipe roughly at my eyes.

"Ok, show me the way, cat!"

So this chapter came out within the same month because Gunslinger, who got the correct song and artist from last chapter (Boulevard of Broken Dreams by Greenday) asked for an update xD hahahahaha But either way, I actually wanted to make this chapter longer, but I need to start writing for my other fic a bit more and I'm still planning out how these next couple of chapters for this story will go.

Hope ya'll liked it, and sorry if Sheigh seems a little everywhere... I'm still trying to solidify her character and all... I feel iffy with this chapter tbh, but I always do with exposition of a story so yeahhhhh xp

Anways, enjoy the chapter :) I'll try to get the next one out before I go back to school TT^TT

Read and review if you so wish (aka pretty please with a cherry on top? hahaha) and enjoy your dayyy~

Koby Out!