Mari
As the early morning broke the way it typically did, with her family's small, crowded house stirring to life, Mari Tezuka's eyes drifted open to greet the day.
"Shit," she spat tiredly then rubbed her bleary-eyed face.
The girl crawled out from under her sheet, then rose from her sagging, worn and saddle-backed mattress to again confront her tiny room – uneven board-faced walls and a claustrophobically low ceiling. A salvaged rug covered the planked floor.
Moving to her half of the window (the other half was behind the wall her dad had thrown up to divide her room from her brothers'), she looked out to see if the weather would spare her from another day of tedious labor. As was almost always the case, the heavens were uncooperative.
Mari ran a hand through her black hair, groaned dramatically and turned away from the demanding sunrise in disgust then rushed to replace her nightclothes with coveralls and boots.
"Ouch," she hissed as her elbow accidentally banged the ramshackle wall and made it shake.
"Cut it OUT, Mari!" her brother, Chuuya's young, incredibly shrill and piercing voice screeched immediately from the other side.
With her temper tweaked, the girl balled her fists. "YOU cut it out!" she roared back furiously. "You know I didn't mean it!"
Moments like this made her glad beyond belief that her status as the lone female in the house, besides Mom, granted her the privileges of a private room while all the sundry males had to share. It made it almost worthwhile that she was always so vastly outnumbered.
Knowing she had to hurry if she was going to get anything to eat at all, Mari headed for the door, which was nothing more than a sheet of plywood that had been ripped down and screwed to some hinges.
As she laid her hand on the handle, she caught a glimpse of one of her Uncle's paintings, which hung crooked on bent nails, and brought her to a halt. It was only a landscape of a village at night yet she always felt captivated by the textured hues of its star-speckled sky and all the little bright lights that glowed in the windows. It exuded a sense of calm and cool, like it never was around here, and conjured in it's brushstrokes a world of perfect peace. The sight of it soothed her and brought to her face a philosophical smile, as if it were a real place she could visit one day if she were patient and traveled far enough.
Her Uncle Maceo was kind of strange, Mari paused to consider. And she found most of his creations puzzling at best and a little frightening at worst. But every now and again the old man created things with the sorts of transcendent qualities she thought were truly breathtaking.
Stayed this long from her schedule, she lingered and took a sidelong glance toward the mirror that sat atop her badly-painted dresser. The girl cringed miserably at the sight of herself. Working outside like she did for long hours, along with her practical clothes and subsistence diet made her look sinewy and boyish. She searched her reflection desperately for anything, anything at all, a careful observer might accept as femininity but soon gave up in frustration.
She startled then at the thundering of hard-soled footsteps that galloped past her door as her army of brothers, Jimon, Aito, Ryuunosuke, Gengo and Chuuya all stampeded to the kitchen.
Damn it, she thought and scowled, too late!
Mari shut her eyes, close to tears now but determined not to succumb to disproportionate emotion and all the unrelated questions it always raised about the unfairness of life.
A part of her knew very well that such questions were irrelevant in a land where many wanted for food and shelter, and the streets were crowded with orphans, mendicants and criminals. As things stood in this cursed place, she had more advantages that most; and more, probably, than she deserved.
Assailed by gloom, she emerged from her room, paced down a short, narrow hallway lined with doors, and into the crowded kitchen which was a whirl of bobbing, black-haired heads, frantic expressions, sharp elbows and straining voices. Her Mother, an oasis of zen-like calm amidst the storm, ladled out bowls of meal and glasses of milk or water. Dad had gone to work much earlier, having risen long before sunrise to go out with the fishing boats.
"Good morning, sweetheart," Mom greeted Mari without looking.
It always amazed the lone daughter how she could notice her arrival over the melee every morning like that and still manage to be cheerful.
Mari grunted noncommittally. "'Morning," she mumbled as was per usual, kneed and elbowed her way toward her to receive her rations, then wolfed down her breakfast standing up. The small table was already over-occupied by her brothers plus the babies, Fumio and Fushashi, who were Mom's sister Makiko's, and were 'visiting' indefinitely for some reason.
In a flash, the four oldest, Jimon, Aito, Gengo and Ryuunoske all finished their breakfasts then rose as one with great urgency and bolted. Mom stopped them with a word then made them all return, kiss her cheek and promise to be safe before she allowed them on their way.
With the kitchen much quieter now after their unexpected departures, and relatively empty but for Mom, Chuuya and the two always-astonished-looking infants, Mari sat down at the table. There wasn't much point anymore. She had only a couple of spoonfuls left, but still it seemed a shame to waste the opportunity.
"Where'd they all run off to?" the girl asked as she traded gestures and happy faces with the babies.
Mom scooped up the bowls the boys had left behind and carried them to the sink. "Down by the bridge," she said with a begrudging acceptance that seemed vaguely ominous somehow. "They've all taken jobs working on the new construction."
Her daughter swallowed her last bite slowly as she gauged her parent's tone. "Isn't that good?"
The woman shrugged. "I suppose so, it's not like we don't need the money," she offered worriedly. "But I still don't like it. It's dangerous work and there're a lot of bad people in that part of town too."
Mari nodded and gulped down her water, then was taken aback as she noticed Chuuya stare up at her from his meal then quickly look away. "Don't worry, Mom," she offered. "I mean there are four of them…they'll look after each other."
Her Mother nodded. "You're right, honey," she acknowledged readily. "I just wish your brothers were…I don't know, more thoughtful…had more common sense. I don't know." One of the babies, Fumio, Mari thought, made a burbling sound which drew the woman at once to tend to him. "You know, Mari, there's a lot of places in this world where kids your age and theirs' don't work at all. They go to school. I wish it was like that here."
Mari nodded. I guess everyone wishes for something.
Again Chuuya glanced at her.
Ugh, Mari thought, now even more severely annoyed. He's up to something…again. The girl's eyes narrowed in aggravation as she stared at him coolly, intent now on catching him in the act.
Her younger brother looked nothing like her, being short, slightly pudgy, with flat black hair, and with a big head that was almost completely round in shape like a bowling ball.
When the boy looked at her again, Mari bugged her eyes and jerked forward as if she was going to come over the table and choke him, which she'd done often enough. Chuuya flinched and startled, grinned cockily as if it hadn't bothered him, then went back to quietly finishing his breakfast.
Little weirdo, Mari considered sourly and breathed a disgruntled sigh. There's just no way he's related to me.
Though she still had another hour or so before she was supposed to help their neighbor, Ando-san, strip and repaint his boat, Mari felt compelled to go. The girl rose, kissed her mother goodbye, exchanged threatening glances with Chuuya then made her way toward the door.
Her footsteps carried her into the small common room, passing by the door to the basement as she went. A long breath escaped her as she slowed then gradually stopped.
Don't turn around, Mari thought. Just don't, you've got stuff to do. But her mind was drawn down into the basement and the strange, wounded boy recuperating there.
Haku…even his name's weird. Her dark eyes rolled as she frowned and canted her head to the side. Just what is it about him anyway, his looks? The question made her even more aggravated with herself for the way this strange stranger occupied her thoughts. Hardly! she answered herself firmly, with that hair and face, he looks like a girl! A moment passed. And even HE'S prettier than me, she added darkly.
His personality? she went on as she crossed her arms. Oh, yeah, right, he hardly has two words to say to anyone. Plus, he's like an international fugitive too!
Being a ninja, and hanging out with Zabuza freakin' Momochi...what kind of life is that? He's got to be crazy or something!
Despite her train of thought and fighting every inclination, she spun toward the basement door, then turned away, then turned back again. Still…
Mari cursed herself every step of the way, feeling like a hooked fish, as she went to the door and opened it, then paced down the stairs. A quick visit, and that's it, Mari commanded herself sternly, just to see how he's doing.
The unexpected sight that awaited her froze her in mid-stride. She fell back wide-eyed against the wall with her hands clutched close to her chin, then split the air with a sharp cry!
Uncle Maceo startled and grimaced at her in alarm from where he stood behind the seated Haku, with scissors poised to shear off a ribbon of the boy's lustrous, long hair close to the scalp. Haku's features rose into a calm, questioning expression while Maceo's eyes went wide and his face reddened apoplectically.
"Girl!" Maceo bellowed angrily as he waved his arm at her, "what was THAT for!?"
Mari raced down the rest of the stairs then drew up to him, grabbed his thick wrist and disarmed him of the scissors. "What do you think you're doing?!" she piped disparagingly.
Her Uncle stepped back and sputtered. "What do you mean?" he protested as he put his hands on his hips. "What does it look like I'm doing?! I'm going to give him a haircut."
The girl looked at him, and Maceo frowned as he read the expression.
"Hey!" her Uncle growled and pointed proudly into his chest, "I'm a doctor; I'm an artist! But you're going to stand there and suggest that I'm unqualified to cut hair?"
Mari's raised eyebrow was answer enough.
The older man cussed incoherently in reply then, after he'd gathered himself, barked out: "Fine! Since you're the expert, you do it!"
He then paced off, pounded up the stairs and was gone.
Silence descended as Mari turned back to Haku whose delicately-featured face seemed pensive.
"It was my idea, I'm afraid," the wounded ninja confessed quietly. Dressed in the taller Jimon's cast off clothes, he seemed more like a vagabond than the fearsome Demon of the Hidden Mist's apprentice. Beneath the baggy, soft, grey fabric, Mari could see the fresh white bandages over one side of his chest.
"What was?" she asked distantly.
"A haircut," Haku explained, twiddling his fingers idly. "It is what those fleeing justice do, isn't it – change the way they appear?"
Mari nodded then smiled smartly as she brought up one of her Uncle's sculptures: a hideous, anthropomorphic creature with doorknob eyes, and rusty bolts, nails and wire for hair. "This can't be what you had in mind though, right?"
The boy's dark eyes rose. "No…I suppose not," he said, paused for breath, then asked: "would you mind?"
The girl blinked. "Sure," she replied blandly and forced an indifferent shrug.
It took her a few minutes of rummaging for her to find a brush and comb then, taking her place behind Haku, Mari held up a length of his hair. "Wow," she said more jealously than she'd intended as she ran her fingers down it, "your hair's really nice, like silk."
"Thanks," Haku replied simply, and Mari could tell from the inflection that he hadn't thought much about it before.
"I wish mine was like this," she grumbled while she brushed and combed his hair with a professional's diligence. "Mine's like a broom – a used broom at that."
Haku nodded slightly but said nothing. Only after the silence was completely unbearable did he look up at her and offer tentatively: "oh."
Mari frowned, grabbed the top of his head and twisted it sharply to face straight ahead. Raising up her instruments, she began slowly at first, to take snips of his hair.
As a client, he was practically perfect. He held perfectly still and responded just right when she tilted his head left, right, up or down. He didn't even flinch when she purposefully came close to nicking his ear.
"It seems like you've done this before," the boy offered matter-of-factly.
"Sure," she said in a matching tone. "I trim my dad, all my brothers and some of our neighbors."
Haku hummed agreeably and again fell silent.
"I guess you just don't talk much, do you?" asserted Mari, whose piercing eyes narrowed.
"Hmm?" he replied. "I'm sorry. I'm rather lost in thought."
"Ok," the girl reluctantly accepted as her scissors and comb continued in harmonious coordination, with the sounds of their actions flowing like music. She vowed not to ask, but did so anyway: "what about?"
"I'm leaving soon," the wounded ninja explained. "So I'm trying to decide where it is I should go."
Mari's mouth fell open and her snipping scissors went quiet. "Don't be stupid," she countered curtly as she brushed the lengths of fallen hair from his pale neck and slender back. "You're not nearly strong enough."
The boy shrugged. "I'm strong enough to manage, I think," he ventured in a maddeningly carefree lilt. "Even if I'm not, I suppose I'll have to be. I cannot stay here."
"Oh, yeah? Why's that?" the girl asked, in what was almost an accusation. "Got somewhere better to go?"
"No, that isn't it," Haku answered plainly. "There are many reasons I should go, the greatest of which is that I will be sought for. But more immediately, your family does not wish me to stay." He turned to look at her once her scissors had stilled. His calm, grey eyes rose. "I assumed you knew."
"Knew what?" Mari frowned and shook her head. "What are you talking about?"
"I heard them talking, your mother and father, I mean," Haku told her. "I didn't mean to overhear, but it's hard not to in this house…especially when you're the one being discussed. Your Father said, 'this isn't a boarding house, a hospital or orphanage, and there are already a lot of mouths to feed.' He's right, too: two adults, seven boys of varying ages, one girl and two infants, if I've counted right.
"They're going to feed me first, dinner then breakfast before they ask me to go." His lips turned up into a fleeting, disarming smile. "Really, it's a very generous gesture. As it is, I'm already indebted to all of you for everything you've done for me."
Mari's brow tensed. "Forget it," she muttered. "No big deal."
While she finished up, the girl looked him over with a cold, clinical eye as she made sure everything was satisfactory, then picked up a wood-framed mirror that was cracked in one corner.
"What do you think?" she blurted, as she held it up before him. "Do you like it?"
Haku looked at his reflection inscrutably and again Mari seemed put-off. "It feels so different," he said uncertainly. "It's much cooler."
"That's not what I asked you!" she said back crossly, left her scissors, comb and brush on her uncle's workbench, then left in a huff.
Haku
Haku watched Mari go, weighed by the feeling that he'd unintentionally upset her somehow. He tracked the girl's thudding footsteps over the creaky floorboards above as she passed into what he presumed was the living room, and then out the door which rattled shut when she slammed it.
"What a truly puzzling person," he murmured to himself then rose gingerly to his feet. Dizziness attacked for a moment and he swayed but soon adjusted. Blood throbbed in his head and around his tender wound. When the sensation eased, he took up the cracked mirror and held it out before him.
Mari really had done a nice job. His new haircut was substantially shorter, but still hung down to his shoulders and looked very natural. "Huh," he said as he turned his head left then right, taking note of the considerable change. "Yes," he decided, "I think I do like it."
For almost an hour, the recovering ninja perused the artist Maceo's basement workshop, but then got bored. Idle browsing and inactivity were not things he was accustomed to, nor could he endure them very easily.
All at once this dingy basement, with its short, high windows, bizarre artworks, and oppressive smells of pigments, turpentine and mold seemed to close in; with its very substance hanging heavily on the ninja's weakened and wracked post-operative body.
"How has it come to this?!" hissed Haku intensely as he began to pace back and forth in restless discontentment. The boy raised a hand to his face in a tormented gesture. You know how, he answered then took a deep breath to try and calm down.
This is pointless, he admitted as he tried to focus, and you're wasting time. Since, for whatever reason, you've decided to live, you're going to need to get your strength back. You're on your own now, and it won't be long until the ANBU come looking for you.
'On your own,' the thought repeated direly in his mind. After so many years spent in Zabuza's company and service, the idea seemed quite absurd. How foolish, how stupid, he considered with wry, humorless grin, that you believed it could never come to this -- that Zabuza would be around forever, that his sword would surely cut down any threat, like…like… As Haku fumbled for an apt analogy, his eyes settled on the stray strands of his own cut hair that clung to his borrowed clothes. No, not like that, he concluded dismissively.
The boy tried to laugh but couldn't. It wasn't that funny. Even if it was, laughter now with his master dead, and his own failure as the principle cause seemed wholly inappropriate. He shut his eyes and felt his hands flex unconsciously. You're wasting time, he prodded himself.
Pushing aside some of the basement's furnishings and artifacts, he cleared out some space and took his place right in the center. He gathered his concentration and inhaled deeply then, standing straight with his feet together and his hands raised palm to palm, chanted a blessing and opened his spirit to the movements he was about to perform.
Haku allowed his hands to lower to where they came to rest naturally by his sides then, with an effortlessness achieved through long practice, began to move through his routine.
Prop up Heaven to Regulate the Triple Burner, he thought as the familiar motions brought back comfortable memories. By which you mean the chakra centers in the upper, middle and lower portions of your body. Step with your left foot so your feet are shoulder-width apart, pressing into the ground with your heels and gripping the ground with your toes. Your tongue touches the upper palate. Breathe through your nose. Inhale slowly as you raise both hands together, palms facing upwards…
He could remember so clearly, how patient his master, Zabuza, had been with him – adjusting his posture, correcting his breath and hand positions with his obsessive attention to detail. Warmed by the reminiscence, he proceeded to the next section -- Draw the Bow to the Left and Right.
Already the injured ninja could feel his internal energy begin to flow, though it had been sharply disrupted by the near-fatal wound he'd suffered at the hands of the leaf-ninja, Kakashi. Slowly, he reached his arms out then back, up and then down as he transitioned smoothly from stance to stance. The sensation of chakra returning to the abandoned reaches of his body thrilled him, but at the same time let him know how far he'd fallen from the height of his powers.
A creak on the stair drew Haku's attention, but he ignored it and completed the form. This was nothing to worry about. Anyone capable of harming him, even in his current, woefully-depleted state, would not have made so much racket. The people he really had to worry about he would have to sense by their energies, for they could pass through the world without so much as a whisper.
"May I help you," Haku offered the visitor with a sigh, then turned, knowing already that it was the youngest boy, Chuuya, who waited there.
Mari's brother stared blankly then wet his lips while Haku looked up at him with feet together and hands clasped at his narrow waist.
"It's really you, isn't it," gasped Chuuya in almost religious awe as he slowly stumbled his way down the stairs as if he'd forgotten how to walk. "H…Haku…you're really Haku!"
The ninja winced slightly at being identified so bluntly. "At this point, I suppose I can't deny it," the ninja's voice issued smoothly.
The little boy's breath raced, then he sank to his knees and bowed his forehead to the floor three times in quick succession. "Master!" he cried, near to tears, "it is my honor to meet you!"
Haku cringed at this declaration. "The last thing I deserve is respects like this," he said. "Please stand up."
The boy clambered to his bare feet, an act his clumsiness made seem incredibly difficult. Once there, he wriggled and fidgeted.
"Chuuya, isn't it?" Haku ventured at which the newcomer nodded briskly. "How did you know who I was?"
The boy's cow eyes widened. "I saw through the window when Mari brought you here," he reported. "I…I know everything about you!"
The bandaged boy blinked. "Is that so?"
"Oh, yeah!" cried Chuuya. "Like how you and Zabuza almost killed the Mizukage and took over the place. And…and all those fights you had with the ANBU, bandits and rival ninja gangs! That's so cool!"
Haku looked at him, not knowing what to think, except: "There are many who would disagree with you about that…a great many."
"Man," the boy piped, his voice laden with emotion. "I've never met a real-life ninja before. This is the greatest thing that's ever happened to me, ever!"
"Well," Haku smiled awkwardly, "I'm glad you feel that way."
The little visitor grinned and his spherical head bobbed up and down in a comical, yet hypnotic, motion. "Hey!" he squeaked suddenly. "What were you doing just now? Was that some secret ninja stuff?"
"That?" answered Haku. "No, it's a form I learned a long time ago called The Eight-Section Brocade, but it's not at all secret. In fact, it's pretty widely known."
"What's it for?"
"To help me heal," Haku explained off-handedly, and then in greater detail: "Its series of movements are designed to develop the flow of chakra and distribute it evenly throughout the body." His eyes wandered upward as he thought. "It's also good for the organs and helps to regulate the various bodily activities."
"Wow," the boy intoned with slow gravity, as if Haku had just dispensed to him the holiest sutra. "What's chakra?"
The ninja looked at Chuuya with such surprise that the boy shrank away shyly. "I'm sorry," Haku told him. "I just thought, from what your sister mentioned about your interest in ninjutsu, that you would know all about it."
The boy's expression wriggled as he fought desperately for some explanation. The older boy smiled charitably and rescued him. "Chakra is an energy possessed by all living things. Its components are physical, mental and spiritual in nature and can, with diligent training and practice, be harnessed to perform any number of feats."
"Oh!" Chuuya cried excitedly. "You mean jutsu!"
"That's right," said Haku with a nod. "There're jutsu released by hand-seals, but using chakra also allows ninja to run at great speeds or jump high into treetops or up onto roofs. It's also how my master, Zabuza was able to control his zanbato. I trust you understand that no amount of physical strength alone would have been enough to manage a weapon that big – a blade so long and heavy that they call it a horse-cutter."
The boy's face quivered as he thought furiously. "Would you teach me?" he gushed suddenly, "that stuff you were doing…pleeeeeeeease?!"
Haku looked back at him skeptically. "I suppose I could," the ninja answered after some thought. "It's reasonably easy to learn, but I think you'll be disappointed. It takes a lot of time and dedicated training for chakra to rise to a level where you can apply its use." He looked again at his perspective student; fairly certain the boy hadn't heard much past 'I suppose I could.'"
Chuuya wiped his wide face then beamed at him. "But then I'll be able to run really fast, jump around in the trees and do jutsu?"
"Well, in theory," Haku allowed, "if you train hard, with proper focus, and you don't --."
"Let's get started, right now!"
The ninja frowned and, for a moment, felt that he now knew part of the reason why Mari seemed so on-edge much of the time. Despite that, Haku couldn't help but chuckle. "I see you're enthusiastic enough," he said, then ushered the eager pupil toward the center of the open space. "Now remember," Haku instructed, "the foundation is in the stance, the breath and the attitude of being rooted. Think of your body as a conduit through which energy flows from the earth and up into the heavens."
Some time later, after Chuuya could make it all the way through the short form, the boy looked at Haku and grinned, so pleased with himself he could hardly speak.
"That's very good," his teacher complimented him. "I confess I'm surprised. Your ability to concentrate is much greater than I had thought."
The little boy looked at him. "So...," he began hesitantly. "Do you think I could be a bad-ass ninja…like you?"
Haku shrugged. "I honestly don't know. If I could see the reach of a person's potential just by looking at them, then my master would still be alive and I wouldn't have this," he reported solemnly and gestured at the bandaged wound upon his chest."
Chuuya didn't hear that last part, he seemed to be wrapped up in thoughts of his own. The dark-haired kid gave him a fervent look. "Do something cool!" he cajoled abruptly.
"What?" replied Haku with cool indignation. "Do you really expect me to perform for you? I'm not your pet, you know."
"I'm sorry!" the child prevailed. "I didn't mean anything bad!"
"People dedicate their whole lives to the art of ninjutsu," said Haku, who fixed him with a serious look. "It's not for showing off or impressing others with some ridiculous display."
"Oh, ok," the boy replied gloomily as his face fell.
Haku sighed and reached for one of the wooden joists that hung just over his head. Pinching it between thumb and forefinger, he raised his whole body up off the floor and held himself there. "Is this the kind of thing you had in mind?"
Chuuya's eyes went wide as he clapped and laughed loudly. "Coooool!"
The ninja lowered himself gently. "All right, Chuuya, come here," he said and held his right arm out straight. "You might as well learn something besides 'ninjutsu is cooooool.'" The boy looked at him, rapt with attention as his new teacher continued, "Now, try and pull my arm down. Use all of your strength."
Chuuya's eyes followed along his teacher's outstretched arm, then he gripped the wrist with both hands, pulled hard, then gasped in amazement when it didn't move. His young face grimaced as he returned to the challenge, gripped again and yanked with all his might. But instead of pulling the arm down he pulled himself up!
Haku looked at Chuuya as he swayed at the end of his arm. The boy looked back at him, slightly stunned, but then grinned boldly. I'm not done yet! his expression said. Still hanging on, he swung and bounced but was still unable to achieve his desired result. He swung harder then threw his leg over Haku's upper arm like it was the branch of a tree.
"Chuuya," the ninja interrupted him calmly. "Are you learning anything or just playing around?"
The boy looked back at him. "I…I can't move your arm!" he groaned.
A sign oozed from the young ninja. "That's not the point. Look up at my hand and hold on tight." As the boy did so, Haku shook his arm at which his hand and fingers shook loosely. "The point is that there is no muscular tension."
Mari's brother frowned as his mind worked the problem. "Then how can you keep your arm up like this?"
Haku set him down. "Because physical strength isn't involved."
"Then what…?" Chuuya's face looked puzzled before the obvious answer occurred to him – "Oh, chakra!"
"Correct!" his 'master' confirmed then went on sagely, "Physical strength has limits, which chakra can easily surpass. Now, I don't mean to suggest that muscularity isn't important, because it is. Muscles support the carriage and posture, and maintain the internal organs in proper alignment which is essential for the harmonious flow of energy. But as far as real strength, well, you've seen the difference for yourself."
The boy giggled, smiled wildly at Haku, then hopped up and down. "I'll practice what you showed me, Master Haku, every day!" Chuuya fell into a fit of victorious laughter. "My brother, Jimon, thinks he's sooooo smart," he reported. "He said you're just some gay freak who wears dresses. What does he know?!"
Haku's brow lowered as he shifted and turned slightly away.
The boy's ebullience drained as he took notice. "Y -- you aren't…right?" he muttered gravely.
Haku frowned slightly. "A wise man once said: 'questions are a prison for others; answers – a prison for one's self.'" He looked back at Chuuya and appraised his wondering, discomfited expression. "But I can see you're desperate for an answer. And even though I haven't known you very long, you are my 'student' so I suppose I should be honest.
"No, I'm not gay but can understand why some, like Jimon, would think that I am. As for my preference in clothing, I'm afraid that part's true," he explained unrepentantly. "I could explain why, but I doubt it would satisfy you."
"If what I've said makes any difference to you, Chuuya, you're free to go just as you are to stay. But, to tell you the truth…if anyone's answers to those kinds of questions bother you, then I consider you unworthy to learn the mysteries of ninjutsu and suggest that you go, forgetting all I've shown you."
Chuuya sucked in his lips while he considered. From the look on his face it seemed as if it was most difficult and complicated problem he had ever come to grips with, and maybe it was. At last he looked up at Haku and said seriously, "It doesn't bother me."
The young ninja's expression softened with relief, more than he would have guessed. "Well then, since I've answered your question," said Haku cleverly. "You must answer one of mine."
The boy nodded. "Ok," he forced himself to accept, but still obviously felt that this was unfair somehow.
"What is the name of the form I just taught you, as well as the names of all of its sections?"
Chuuya's mouth fell open in sudden alarm as he found himself put on the spot. His eyes roved in thought. "Um…the form is called Ba Duan Jin, The Eight Section Brocade. There's the opening and closing bows," he began tentatively and started to rock nervously back and forth. "The first part's called 'Prop up Heaven to Regulate the Triple Warmer'. The second part is…is 'Draw the Bow to the Left and Right', and then 'Raise One Arm to Regulate the Spleen and Stomach', and then 'Look Backwards to Regulate the Four,' no wait, 'Five Strains and Seven Impairments', and then 'Sway the Head and Buttocks to Eliminate the Heart-Fire', and then 'Touch the Toes to Reinforce the Kidneys', and then 'Clench the Fist and Stare with Anger to Develop Strength and Power', and then 'Rise and Fall on the Toes to Resist Disease'."
Chuuya rolled his tongue around the inside of his cheek as he counted on his fingers, mouthing the words as he counted to himself. "Yeah!" he cried excitedly, "that's it – all eight!"
A smile dawned over Haku's face as he nodded. "Not bad," he offered cheerily, "not bad at all."
Toru
Just as the sun was setting, the weary ANBU Pack-Leader slouched into the patio of an open-air bar called The Junk and joined the rest of his hunter-ninjas at a corner table. He had to shake his head a moment at the name which could be interpreted any number of different ways but was intended, based on the tacky nautical theme, to refer to the type of flat-bottomed sailing vessel.
"Alright, team," he called out, taking note that their meals had already arrived. The aromas made his stomach growl like an idling diesel engine. "What'd you get, anything?"
Aya shook her head uneasily while Orimi reported, "Nothing here, Chief. There's no hospital, just a couple of clinics and there was no sign that Haku had ever showed up at either of them."
Toru turned his attention toward Eiji who gave him a pained look, then turned his thumb down and blew a raspberry. That was his standard version of a summarized report. "I see," the Pack-Leader said. Yukimasa, shaken from some intense reverie, opened his mouth to speak but Toru cut him off. "Let me guess," the burly man said. "The gravediggers don't get paid unless they bury something, which is why they put Haku's coffin in the ground even though it was obvious there was no body in it."
'Masa nodded and took another drink while Orimi grinned wryly. "Your ninja powers are truly astounding," she offered with theatrical grace.
"Yup," quipped Toru, "just like my ass." The man looked around to observe the effect of his joke but found only forced, uncomfortable grins…even from Eiji, who would normally hit a softball like that one out of the park. Toru had suspected from the general vibe he was getting that something was up; now he was sure of it.
Orimi looked up from her meal of beer and boiled fish, intent on changing the subject. "How'd it go with the old man, Chief?" she inquired conversationally, brushing a stray strand of brown hair from her forehead.
Her boss signaled the proprietor, a slack-faced man who was still uncertain about letting a team of ANBU stay in his boarding rooms, then fell into a chair. "He busted my chops pretty good," replied Toru tiredly as he rubbed his bristly face.
"He did what?!" Eiji, whose transparent demeanor was clearly preoccupied, snapped toward him. "Just who the hell does he think he is? Huh, big-shot bridge-builder," he sneered. "If he said half a word I didn't like to me, I'd stomp him so flat you could see through him!"
Toru cracked his neck. "I know, young buck," he replied easily but with emphasis, "that's why I didn't send you."
The ninja startled slightly and Toru could see a flicker of hurt. The Pack-Leader grumbled, having forgotten how young his subordinate really was. By Mist Village standards, Eiji was a veteran. He was an ANBU, and had lasted this long, hadn't he?
By Toru's standards however, he fresh out of the womb and still had much to learn -- like how not to take professional criticism personally. The Pack-Leader rolled his eyes and thought. Ah, crap, now I got to soften the blow after I already hit him. "Of course," he added lightly, "if I was really smart, I'd have sent Aya. A pretty face would have gotten a lot better results."
His mention of her name failed utterly to draw the girl's attention, which made Toru even surer that there was something going on. Whatever it was, he'd have to 'put the skunk on the table' as the saying went, then kill it, fillet it and serve it up before it started to go bad. Gossip, politics, secrets and soap-opera bullshit were the death of any team, and he wouldn't have it.
"In any case, Eiji," Toru leaned forward and explained in his best paternal-sounding voice, "us ANBU are few and far between. So it doesn't do us any good going around making enemies. We've already got plenty of those."
Eiji's brow furrowed attentively as he nodded.
Toru sat back, content that he'd rescued the young man's surprisingly-delicate feelings, then casually looked around.
Even this far from shore, he could smell the sea and feel the breeze as it drifted past The Junk's painted, concrete columns and through its open wood trellises. The islands of the Hidden Mist Village really were beautiful sometimes, he mused.
"Did you learn anything at least?" Orimi asked him.
"Yep," Toru said with a smile as his beer arrived, then took a gulp.
Whatever it was his team was keeping from him, Toru realized, they all knew about it. Eiji and Aya were on the edge of their seats, trying desperately to keep it from their thoughts. Yukimasa hid it better, but only because he was prone to bouts of distant thought anyway, so his reticence didn't seem that unusual. Orimi, as he might have guessed, concealed her preoccupation almost perfectly.
The Pack-Leader cleared his throat. "Well," he began, "if there was some deep, dark conspiracy between the Leaf Village and Zabuza and/or Haku, Tazuna sure doesn't know about it. Him and his grandkid were both as surprised that Haku's still alive as we were."
All four ninja nodded with varying degrees of interest.
"Ok," said the big man firmly and flatly. "What's going on?"
Eiji's eyes swiveled furtively, but it was Orimi who broke the news. "Somebody came looking for you, Chief."
Toru gazed at her with disbelief. "Looking for me?" he parroted. "Who?"
The kunoichi turned the question over to Eiji who frowned direly before he replied: "Some ugly bastard," he reported vaguely with a shake of his head, "said his name was Chrissie Ramen…or something."
The big man's head fell back as he broke out in relieved, uproarious laughter. "Oh, yeah?" he snorted and pushed back his black, thick-framed glasses. "Chrissie Ramen, huh, with the skinny arms right?" He laughed again until something dawned on him and his mirth faded. "Wait a sec'," he intoned gravely and leaned toward the young ninja. "Krishaney Rahaman?" Toru clarified emphatically, "big, scary-lookin' m-f…big, bushy, black 'stache?"
Eiji's eyes lit and he nodded earnestly. "Yeah, that's the guy!"
Toru scowled and drew his palm back to pound the table as a curse formed on his lips. It took a fraction of a second for decorum and discipline to rein him in. "That's bad," he ended up saying.
"What?" Eiji guessed, "you owe him money or something?"
Orimi elbowed him, then turned back to Toru. "So tell us already," she insisted. "Who is this guy?"
The ANBU Pack-Leader frowned. "He's the Mizukage's new right hand; came on right after Zabuza's coup. Now, I don't know where the 'Kage found this guy. Maybe he dug him out of some cave or dragged him up from the bottom of the ocean or something. Wherever he came from, he's his personal bodyguard, messenger, and leg-breaker now. I actually met him once right before our team got formed."
"Hmph," snorted Eiji doubtfully. "Is this guy really that bad?"
The others groaned and shook their heads.
"No, no, hold on…," asserted Toru as he restored order. "That's a good question."
"Yeah," the young ninja retorted as he turned on the group. "Just think about all the wanna-be bad-asses who piss their pants when we show up."
"Exactly," agreed Toru. "But remember the flip-side of that coin. There's also people who don't look like much who can kill ya six ways before you hit the ground. Keep that in mind with Haku. Don't let his young age, school-girl face and skinny arms, fool you into forgetting that the little bastard can kick like a mule and bite like a croc-odile." A smile split the man's unshaven face. "But having said all that, team, nobody knows for sure if Rahaman is the real deal or not. So far, nobody's had the guts to test him."
"Alright, alright, I get it!" Orimi huffed impatiently. "So what's he want with you?"
The big man's eyes bugged, seeming even bigger because of the way his thick lenses magnified them. "Hell if I know!"
Eiji chuckled mischievously. "'Seems like overkill just to get you into a proper ANBU uniform."
"Don't hold your breath," Toru replied. "Besides, those damn masks don't fit over my glasses anyway."
Orimi took a sip of her drink then urged, "Come on Chief, take a guess."
"I really don't know," Toru insisted. "I haven't done anything that bad…recently."
Eiji turned suddenly toward Yukimasa. "Hey, 'Masa!" he gusted. "What gives? You haven't said a word this whole time. You gotta know something!"
The ninja's mild face looked up almost in alarm until he smiled tensely and shrugged the question away. "Not me, guys," Yukimasa attested as his face flushed. "I'm as in the dark as anyone!"
The other three hunter-ninja exchanged glances then focused their stares at him.
"Aw, come on, 'Masa," Orimi cajoled. "Don't hold out on us."
The defendant looked around at the jury, but found no sympathetic faces.
"Come on, 'Masa," said Toru firmly. "No one knows the mind of the Mizukage and his bureaucracy better than you, so if you got something figured out then, by all mean, start spittin'."
The ninja's troubled expression fell as he shook his head. "It's nothing, Boss," he mumbled. "It's stupid."
Toru drew himself up. "That's what I assume," he announced. "In case any of you don't know by now, my assumption about each and every one of you is that you're all dumb as posts and can't be trusted – not even to wipe your asses. That will last until you demonstrate to me otherwise. Your being silent when you've got something on your mind ain't gonna get that done. So, that said, for now and from here on out: speak!"
Yukimasa looked up at his leader slowly. "I hate it when you get like this," he seethed, drawing a grin from Eiji and raised eyebrows from Orimi and Aya.
"Good start!" answered Toru, who pounded the table in his enthusiasm. "But quit stallin'." His brow knitted balefully. "Out with it!"
The reluctant ninja's shoulders slumped as he sighed. "The 'Kage's got to be pretty pissed off," he ventured. "Not only did we not get Zabuza, we let a team of Leaf Ninja beat us to him. I don't have to tell you how bad that makes us look." A pall fell over the rest of the team as they considered his report. 'Masa rubbed his chin. "It's going to be that much worse when he finds out Haku's still alive…if he hasn't already."
Toru leaned back then looked away.
"You're right," stated Eiji flatly. "That is stupid. I mean, there's only a handful of ANBU teams to cover all about a thousand miles of coastline and dozens of islands, big and small, scattered over hundreds of miles of ocean! No one could expect --."
"No, Eiji…he's right," Toru muttered sourly. "That's exactly what it is."
"You don't know that, Toru," offered Orimi who patted his arm. "None of us know for sure. 'Masa's only guessing."
"Well Khrishaney Rahaman sure as hell isn't here to deliver my mail!" he barked at her testily then regretted it. "Sorry, Orimi."
"Ok, then," she moved on. "Let's assume worst-case scenario. How bad could it be?"
"Doesn't bear thinking about," the Pack-Leader grumbled and winced. "'Could be censure, reduction in rank, even summary execution."
"Chief!" piped Aya for the first time. "The Mizukage would never do that!"
"He's been through a lot," ventured Toru. "There's no telling where his head's at these days." The Pack-Leader looked around at the rest of his ninja. "Well…team," he began, trying to sound upbeat. "We're not done just yet. We've still got us a bad-guy to catch." Turning toward his young protégé, he asked: "Eiji, where's Rahaman now?"
The young man's expression blanked. "Uh, well," he started, "we kind of ditched him."
"Ditched him?" inquired Toru with more than a trace of concern.
"Yeah, Chief. See, he asked where you were, and…and I guess we kinda freaked, so --."
"It was me, Pack-Leader Yamashite," admitted Aya in her soft voice, at which Toru turned toward her in shock. "I…I told him you were following up on a lead at Durgon Atoll."
"Durgon Atoll?" repeated Toru with disbelief. "That's at least three-hundred miles north. Did he actually buy that?"
"You should've heard her, Chief," said Eiji with a shark-like smile. "She said it with such a straight face, even I believed it."
Toru barked a laugh. "It figures you kids take up all my bad habits and leave the good ones behind." He smiled gently. "Still, Aya, good job! You've bought us some time."
Orimi sat up rigidly. "So what do we do now?"
"Well, first," the Pack-Leader dictated, "we finish our drinks and enjoy a nice meal." He then took in the table with an intense, sweeping look before he continued, "And then we catch and kill us one demon's apprentice."
Writer's note -- How am I doing? What all do you think so far?
