Disclaimer: Kankuro and the other Naruto characters unfortunately are not my little slaves. They have to serve Masashi Kishimoto.
Also, this story takes place in a slight AU. Since I don't know the ending to Naruto, I can only make educated guesses on how the Naruto world will be in the future. Any inaccuracies will be fixed as more of the manga is published and translated.
Altered Carbon-chapter three
"Kankuro…wake up you sleepy-head! Kankuro!"
"Quiet, woman, I still wanna sleep…for just…a little…longer."
"Kankuro, you're such a jerk, don't you want to do something today?"
"Sure I do, but…"
"But what?"
"It just doesn't feel right."
"Kankuro?"
"It just doesn't feel right…" Kankuro said again as he thrashed his head against his sweat-soaked pillow, mouth opening and closing with unspoken words. He was still locked in sleep, his limbs deeply entwined in his bed's only sheet, but a stirring dream was causing his senses to gradually rouse themselves.
He gingerly opened one of his eyes, using his forearm to wipe away the crust that had formed overnight.
Slam! Slam!!
The sudden noise from down the hallway caused Kankuro to sit straight up, back flat as a board, both of his eyes now wide open and alert, darting around wildly across the room and past his bedroom door.
"Hello?" he called out angrily, not sure how anyone had cleared the building's front entrance or why they would be here in the first place. "Who is it? Leave me the hell alone!"
SLAM!!!
This time the noise was louder and more raucous then before. Whoever was hammering their fists into his door wasn't going to leave very easily, it seemed.
Kankuro let himself fall backwards onto his pillow again, a single hand covering his lethargic face, peeking through his spread fingers with a slothful stare. It wasn't the landlord; he had already paid his rent a couple weeks back, and the shinobi seriously doubted that the mysterious upstairs neighbor had finally decided to pull themselves out of their hermit hole and pay him a visit.
Maybe if he just ignored it…
SLAM!! BAM!!!!
"Okay, okay you persistent bastard!" yelling as loudly as his tired lungs would allow him to, Kankuro abruptly shot out of his bed, plodding towards the front door with heavy feet. Glancing at the digital clock near the exit of his room, the drowsy shinobi cursed under his breath. It was only nine o'clock in the morning; he wasn't scheduled to meet with Temari and Gaara for another three hours.
Whoever's slamming on my door had better have a damn good reason for being here, thought Kankuro, as he shuffled by the abandoned Karasu. He hoped no one planned on coming inside; his apartment was a deplorable mess of scrolls, puppet parts and assorted tools, not to mention beer bottles and scattered trash. Several ash trays decorated the few tables in the living room, so that wherever he sat or napped, there was always one nearby.
It was no swinging bachelor pad, but the living room had a working television and an old couch, plus a refrigerator stocked with sake and junk food in the kitchen, and that was all Kankuro needed.
If he strained his ears, Kankuro could have sworn he heard someone grumbling outside. He supposed he had made them wait long enough. If someone wanted to see him so badly that they were beating down his door, who was he to disappoint?
Wrenching the doorknob sanctimoniously, Kankuro nearly slammed it back shut, for just outside, hand raised as if ready to knock once more, was none other than Temari.
Kankuro felt like punching his own sister in the face, mad at her for having the gall to pointlessly wake him up. But her intense gaze told him that she wasn't here to waste his time.
She was dressed in a formal lavender kimono that Kankuro knew he had never seen her wear before. An elaborate obi sash of some kind of brocade fabric was tightly bound around her waist, accentuating her body's hourglass silhouette. It wasn't hard to see why the Konoha shadow-wielder was so enamored with his sister; she had become a rather voluptuous woman, despite her somewhat capricious nature.
In one of her hands was a small package, but there was no way to tell what it might be.
"How did you get past the front entrance?" he asked, giving the kunoichi a bitter look of his own. "Why are you all dressed up like that? We don't need to be ready for a while, right?"
"Are you stupid or something? I don't need to be challenged like that!" barging her way around the large shinobi, Temari eyeballed the apartment with an amused look on her face. "I picked the front door; I'm not a shitty genin anymore. Simple locks like that really don't pose that much of a problem."
Sarcastically plugging her nose with her fingers, Temari gestured towards the clutter and chaos that was her brother's apartment.
"I remember now why I don't come to visit you very often, Kankuro."
"I don't need to hear another lecture, Temari. Now what do you need?" Kankuro replied icily, putting himself between his sister and the rest of the hallway. Perhaps he needed to tell the landlord to install a lock that could only be opened by way of a particular hand-seal; the idea of Temari intruding in on him like this on a regular basis made his stomach drop a little.
"Well, first off, I think you need to be a little more thankful to me for getting your lazy ass out of that sorry excuse for a bed. If I wasn't here, you'd have Gaara to deal with," Temari explained, sounding very sure of herself. Kankuro's lips pulled down into a frown of confusion. Had he forgotten something? The maniacal smile playing on Temari's face certainly seemed to insinuate that he had.
"Get on with it, what did I screw up this time?" the shinobi said, positive that Temari was enjoying seeing him so uninformed with only his big sister to enlighten him. He wasn't about to give his thanks, but at least he had confessed that he was wrong about something.
"Good enough, bozo," she remarked, putting her hands upon her well-formed hips. "Looks like you didn't get the memo. Today's mission was cancelled. In lieu of it, we need to attend a special meeting in the mansion in about an hour. I thought you knew!"
Temari's lips twisted into a saccharine smile that dripped with mock innocence, knowing fully well that her sibling was entirely oblivious to the change in plans. It was as plain as the dumb look on his face.
"Why didn't anyone inform me about this? God Damnit, Temari!" Kankuro gnashed his sharp teeth together, nearly ready to bash a small hole in the wall beside Temari's toffee-nosed face. "One hour? That's all the time I have to get ready?"
"Yep!" she smiled again, and Kankuro felt the ire rising in him, the veins of his forehead bulging slightly. Temari playfully smacked one of his cheeks, knowing that she was already treading on thin ice, but she hadn't forgotten his smart remarks from the previous night. If anything, this was just a light dose of revenge for what Kankuro had said about her and Shikamaru. Giving her brother a visual once-over, the wily kunoichi added, "And I suggest you get started soon, it won't do to show up looking like that. Please tell me that your kimono isn't wrinkly and smells like smoke!"
Kankuro refused to give an answer, and instead slowly rolled his eyes back and forth across the hallway, avoiding the brooding stare of his difficult sister, while he rocked on his heels.
"God! Why do I have to do everything around here?" Temari spat out, shoving the small bundle into Kankuro's hands. Just from holding it, he could tell that inside was some kind of garment. Tapping a sandaled foot on the floor, she continued hotly, "I had that one ready just in case, thankfully. I swear, sometimes you really are quite useless, you know that?"
"I get it, okay? Now can you leave, I need to get ready," tucking the fresh clothes underneath his arm, Kankuro motioned indolently towards the door, hoping that Temari would understand his silent message. Instead, she stood her ground, waiting for the smallest sign of gratitude to show itself. She wasn't about to leave without it. Kankuro saw the meddling glint in her eyes and then let out an exasperated moan. "Thank you! Are you happy now? Can I get on with my life?"
Temari backed away towards the door, and was just about to slip away quietly and pull the door closed when a hand shot out, holding it fast. She glanced back in to see Kankuro looking directly at her, face utterly composed, removed of all egotism. She felt her heart flip inside her chest to see Kankuro looking so serious. It was like catching a glimpse of her brother from two years ago.
"Temari, thank you…and I'm sorry…about what I said about Shikamaru last night," he spoke in hushed tones that chimed clearer than any bell. "I am happy for you guys…I just…"
"Go get ready, Kankuro," accepting his apology in the only way she knew how, Temari tapped his lips gently. She smiled at him, one that was tinged with sincerity, as she nodded her head. "We need you to arrive at the Kazekage mansion at a quarter before ten. Don't be late."
And with that, she quickly shut the door. The breath of air that had been lodged in Kankuro's lungs finally leaked out in one long gasp. Sneaking a cursory glance at the
neatly folded package in his hands, he turned on one heel back towards his room.
The moment he reentered the bedroom, his eyes fell towards the floor, at the almost finished box of cigarettes on the floor. In an instant Kankuro knew he should have steered his sight away from them, as he could almost taste the smoke rolling off of his tongue, slowly killing his taste buds and sense of smell.
It would have to wait. Keeping his eyes focused on the bathroom and the shower inside it, Kankuro walked around the red and white carton, stopping for the smallest of seconds when his toes brushed up against it.
The craving was eating at him again. He pulled at the messy, oily hair on the back of his head, trying to disregard that nauseating need.
It had to wait.
But could he?
Swallowing hard, Kankuro finally pushed his way past that looming object on the floor, dropping his sister's "present" on his bed as he passed by. Nearly throwing himself into the bathroom, the shinobi pulled off his black pants and undergarments, fueled by a sudden need to hurry.
He showered quickly and efficiently, soaping and scrubbing his body, trying to wash off the stench of smoke and alcohol that seemed to linger on his skin and in his hair. A quick rinse later and Kankuro turned off the warm water, slipping out quietly and grabbing a towel to tie around his midsection.
Watery footprints trailing behind him and his hair still sopping wet, the shinobi yanked open the metal medicine cabinet that stood next to his bathroom mirror. Weeding through bottles of headache pills and infrequently used phials of cologne, Kankuro finally pulled out a medium-sized canister that had no identifying marks or lettering on it. This he sat on the sink, along with a small brush with a very narrow tip made of horsehair.
Unwrapping the towel from his waist, Kankuro used it to dry his face completely, rustling his hair to shake loose the beads of water.
He mechanically twisted the lid off of the container and delicately dipped the brush into the inky substance within in. When it had become sufficiently saturated, the puppeteer pulled it out and with fingers that didn't dare to tremble, Kankuro began to paint his face with a sort of dedication he'd long forsaken.
The paint was cold against the pale surface of his skin, but he welcomed it like a dying man welcomed a goblet of icy water. He smoothed the fine hairs of the brush across his closed eyes, allowing the paint to ghost over the lids, strong and thick, only thinning as the line reached his temples. Kankuro repeated the action on the other half of his face, counting silently to himself as he waited for the paint to dry.
It was a ritual for Kankuro, one that he had almost lost all interest in. All puppet masters had to be skilled in the application of the ceremonial kabuki paint; it was an integral part of their appearance. Their emotions had to be hidden behind the mask, as their humanistic weapons acted on their behalf.
As he stroked the brush about his face, lost in some sort of therapeutic trance, the lines prominent and bold, Kankuro was starting to feel a little elated. It had been forever since he had seen this kind of face staring back at him. For a second, he thought he saw an unsteady shimmer of pride start to appear in his eyes.
The painted man in the mirror looked strong and determined, the intense color drawn over his lips and then trailing down his chin.
Was this really him? Was this really the true Kankuro, or just a façade?
When Kankuro had finished, he checked and rechecked his handy work, looking at his face from all conceivable angles, ensuring that the patterns were as identical on both sides as they could be. Unlike the previous day, there were no crooked strokes, no imperfections. The broad lines seemed to pull his entire face together, seemed to complete and compliment him.
The only thing that seemed to interrupt the symmetry of the paint was the looped piercing in his left eyebrow. He had gotten it over a year ago, following the recommendation of person he'd once known very well. Although it wasn't difficult to manipulate the brush and paint around the metal of the piercing, it did manage throw his look off a little.
Still, it had meant so much to her.
Sighing, Kankuro felt he would be better off just leaving it there, if only for the time being. Whenever he noticed the loop above his eye, he would always make it a point to tear it off for good, but then a little voice inside of him would disrupt him, advise him otherwise, and so there it still was, after all this time.
"It just doesn't feel right," whispering to the mirror, Kankuro lightly traced a single fingernail over the piercing, remembering the day he had had it done, thinking about the look on her face when she had seen it. According to her, it had made him look "dreamy".
He wasn't so sure of his decision anymore, just like he now doubted so many of the choices he had made recently.
Kankuro shook his head despondently, thinking about what he had before him, what needed to be taken of here and now. He couldn't wallow and wait for his past to swallow him up.
Time was passing him by, and he still needed to get dressed.
Patting his face to check if the paint was dry, Kankuro left the bathroom, his body more or less dry.
Reaching out for the parcel on his bed, the young shinobi slowly pulled off the twine that held it closed. Fingers working quickly to undo the double knots, Kankuro gave a sly smile as he pulled out a rather luxurious men's kimono of deep blue fabric which was accompanied by a pair of divided hakama pants.
At least she picked out a good color… Kankuro remarked, making a note to thank Temari later on as he pulled his arms through the arm holes of the garment and swiftly slipped into the gray pants. They barely fit around his waist, and if he didn't know any better, Kankuro suspected that his witty sibling was trying to tell him something.
With the minutes ticking by, Kankuro snatched up the most suitable pair of sandals he could find in the pile of odds and ends that lay on his bedroom floor. There were some surface marks and scuff, but nothing even his scrupulous sister's eye could detect.
Sliding his feet into the sandals, Kankuro then unconsciously gathered his leather wallet, along with his pack of cigarettes from off the floor and slipped them into the inner pocket of his kimono.
When he felt the box rub against his side, Kankuro almost felt guilty. Did he really expect to smoke in the kimono his sister had just given him, stink up this piece of clothing so that it matched his others?
Already, he could feel the evil little box burning a hole in his kimono's pocket.
Perhaps just one smoke after the meeting won't hurt, Kankuro decided, racing out into the hallway out the front door, hoping that he wouldn't be too late. He'd forgotten to check the clock on his way out, and could only guess that he had about five minutes to reach the mansion.
His sandals rapped against the cobblestone and dirt pathways of the village. As he moved quickly towards his destination, Kankuro keenly noticed that the citizens of Sunagakure were regarding him differently. A few of them waved their salutations as he dashed by, and the reinvigorated shinobi swore a few females were winking at him, causing an uncommon blush to redden his cheeks.
Although Kankuro wanted to believe they were being enticed by his rugged good looks, he knew that the girl's flirtatious behavior could only be attributed to his new kimono.
With a pained expression on his face, barely visible past his mask of paint, the puppet-wielding shinobi determined that there was no reason to get his hopes up anyhow.
He had long since given up on that pursuit.
As apprehension started to build in his throat, Kankuro suddenly felt the all-too-common yearning strike him again from the inside.
The pangs were getting stronger now. It was normal for Kankuro to start the day with at least two cigarettes, and although he was ignoring the addiction's call as best he could, it wouldn't be long before his fingers would start to shake and his eyes would turn red and glisten with tears of wanting.
Deep in his heart, Kankuro pleaded that this special meeting would be as brief as possible; he didn't want his siblings to have to witness one of his craving attacks, as it was hardly a glamorous sight to behold.
Moving onwards, Kankuro felt his mouth curl up into a feral smile once he saw the spires of the Kazekage's mansion peeking over the tops of the nearby buildings. He was thankful that his apartment was located so closely to Gaara's place of residence.
Soon, this would all be over, and then his driving hunger could finally be sated.
((A/N: I thank everyone who is reading my story. I hope that you continue to follow along! As always, I appreciate any comments or criticisms!))