Chapter no. : 4
Chapter title: Actions Speak Louder than Words
Story rating: M
BETAed: Beta'ed by Ryukai MJ :3
Disclaimer: Me no own Naruto. I mean, come on - how stupid are you? If I did own Naruto , it would contain much swearing, blood, sex and rock'n'roll. And Yaoi. Don't forget the luffly yaoi. But since I don't own it, I have to settle for entertaining you guys with my stories and OCs - which is fine by me.
Warnings: Would put some, but (one) I can't be arsed, and (two) I doubt I could traumatise you further... or could I...?
Review count upon update: 9
Word count upon update: 12,905
Notes: I merged chapters four and five as I felt this story was dragging on a bit. I'm still not sure about this story - I don't really like it :S


It was just after the sun dipped down below the horizon when Tsukiko waved Kiba goodbye on the street as he entered the Kage's dwellings. It wasn't because it was night time, and therefore it was the traditional time to sleep; actually, it was temperature. In Suna, as soon as the burning-hot sun set, the temperature plummeted to near-freezing. Kiba wasn't used to such cold. In Konoha, it was pretty damn warm twenty-four-seven.

So as soon as he was led to his living quarters by the silent attendant, he dived onto the bed and wrapped himself in the many blankets that had been placed beside his futon. Akamaru dived at the bundle his master was in and nosed around, trying to find an opening. Kiba relented his hold on the covers and allowed his dog to cuddle with him, shivering in the cool air.

"Gods be damned, it's cold…" he mumbled, holding onto Akamaru with a death grip, who whined low in his throat. "Okay, boy, we'll leave a little sooner than planned, yeah? I just gotta do one more thing…"


Across the village, hours later, Kankuro's eyes snapped open, and he woke from a tumultuous sleep. For a moment or two, he lay still, letting the nightmare roll away into the deep recesses of his mind, where it would lie dormant until the next time he closed his eyes.

There was movement to his left. He lazily rolled his head on the hard pillow to meet the twinkling green eyes of a small black kitten who was padding across the mattress with trotting steps. It leapt at him, landing on his chest and squeaking at him. No, it didn't 'meow' – it was too young, so it merely squeaked, despite its hardest efforts. Kankuro raised a hand and the kitten nuzzled it excitedly, eyes closing and a purr instantly flying from its throat.

"What's wrong, little guy?" he asked. "No point in nuzzling that hand – I slept on it, so it's dead."

At least, that's what he kept telling himself.

"'Hoy," his roommate called suddenly from his doorway. "There's someone at the door. And where did you put my smokes?"

"You ran out, remember?" Kankuro muttered, shifting the kitten into his arms and sitting up.

"Yeah, and you said you'd buy me more."

"And I told you I had a shit day yesterday – I didn't remember, sorry," the Sabaku snapped. "Have mine. They're on the counter." He stood up just as there was a frustrated-sounding 'bang' at the door, followed by a strange whine. "If that's who I fuckin' think it is…"

"Smelt a bit canine to me, 'Neki," his roommate commented; Kankuro didn't seem fazed by the strange name.

"Fuck."

Kankuro strode to the front door of his ground floor apartment, ignoring the fact he was dressed only in his underwear, and unlocked it, pulling the door open and finding his stare locked with a gaze of deepest brown, which belonged to – as he suspected and feared – Kiba Inuzuka. The dog-nin's eyes widened, as if shocked about seeing Kankuro.

He sighed. "What?"

"Good morning to you too," the younger reply with a large grin. "Who's your friend?"

The kitten in his arms wriggled deeper into the crook of his elbow and gave a little hiss.

"Not a morning person, either."

"Inuzuka, what are you doing here? And how did you get here?"

"Just checking up on you and… I walked here? Well, Akamaru walked here, I just-"

"I meant how did you find out I lived here?"

"Tsukiko. She said her brother lived with you and she gave me the address."

Kankuro rubbed his eyes tiredly.

"Sleep well?"

"Oh… beautifully."

"I can tell."

"'Hoy, Maneki-chan, who is it?" a voice from within the apartment called.

"'Maneki-chan?'" Kiba repeated. "Who's Man-…?"

The younger's eyes had widened once again, this time considerably. Akamaru, beside him, made a confused noise in the back of his throat.

"What?" Kankuro asked, bored, looking over his shoulder at his roommate.

"…Is… that cat… smoking?" Kiba stuttered.

His eyes had found a green and white patched cat balanced perfectly on its hind legs, a cigarette held somehow in its paw; the cat stared cockily up at the Inuzuka with bright yellow eyes, inhaling on the white stick and exhaling a cloud slowly, never breaking eye contact. The hairs on the back of Kiba's neck stood on end.

"Hm…? Yeah. That's Kei. Now-"

"But… Tsukiko said her brother was called 'Kei'… why would you name your cat after him and teach it how to smo-?"

"I am Tsuki's brother. Jesus, dogs are slow…" the cat muttered.

Kiba fell silent.

"Great," Kankuro muttered, shaking his head. "You've created a story that needs to be told – now I have to invite him in. Thank you so much, Kei-chan!"

"I bathe in your sarcasm happily, Maneki-chan," Kei, the cat, said with a smile. "C'mon in, dog-breath. A friend of Tsuki's is a friend of mine."

"This isn't your apartment." Kankuro's tone was pure death.

"I'm your roommate!" Kei protested as he put his cigarette out, frowning and crossing his… paws.

"Do you pay rent?"

"…No."

"Bills?"

"…No."

"Contribute to food?"

"…No."

"And who buys your catnip?"

"…You. But that's out of the goodness of your heart!"

The puppeteer snorted. "Right…" He opened the door wider, a silent invitation to Kiba, who took it quickly lest the invitation be withdrawn. Kankuro glanced at the back of the shinobi and sighed for what seemed like the millionth time that morning. "Damn, I need coffee."

"Er…" the cat mumbled sheepishly.

"You better not have drunk all the coffee. You shouldn't even be drinking it! You know what the vet said."

"Ugh, don't mention that horrible cretin again!" Kei shuddered, his patchwork fur rippling. "He stuck fingers where no fingers should be stuck!"

"You didn't think so when you were human…" Kankuro replied as he disappeared into the kitchen.

"Yeah, well, that's different. As a human, it's sexual and pleasurable. Unless that damned fool's into bestiality, it wasn't sexual, and therefore wasn't nice at all." Kei leapt up onto the dead-looking sofa and stared Kiba in the eye. "You gunna stand there all day? Park your ass down here and I'll explain all."

"I'm being told to sit down… by a talking, smoking cat…"

"Strange world, isn't it?"


"Where's my coffee, you bastard?"

There was no reply from Kankuro. In fact, there hadn't been a sound from Kankuro since he had gone into the kitchen – and that was ten or so minutes ago.

That wasn't wasted time, though. In those ten minutes Kiba had learnt a few things. Things like… how Kankuro did actually like cats (his whole apartment being near-flooded with felines kind of alluded to that), or that he smoked (the sofa stunk of it… or was that just Kei?), or how despite coming from the richest family in Suna he lived in quite possibly the sparsest of living quarters, or how he came to own Kei…

The talking, chain-smoking, coffee-addicted, gay cat, Kei.

My God, that's the weirdest shit ever, Kiba thought. Only Kankuro could draw those types of characters in…

It seemed that Kei actually was a human after all; he had to be, if he was Tsukiko's twin brother, to be honest. But, Kei explained, that in the womb, Tsukiko had stolen all the logical brain cells, as just over four years ago, Kei managed to piss an old woman off, who coincidentally knew quite some advance, old jutsus and therefore turned him into a cat. She then popped her clogs some time after, but still the jutsu stayed. Tough cheese.

So, he was stuck as a cat. Luckily, he could speak and had been fortunately granted opposable thumbs, but with becoming a feline came certain downfalls; like the visits to the vet, the need to keep personal hygiene via the tongue, the hairballs…

Not only that, but the human-turned-cat was positively infatuated with Kankuro.

No, that's some weird shit, Kiba added.

"You're not supposed to have coffee, aren't you?" the dog-nin asked.

"Who are ya, my mother? Shut your yapper, bitch-face," the cat snapped.

"Speak to him like that again, and I'll lock you out for a week. Without catnip." They both turned to regard Kankuro, who was stood, leaning against the doorframe with a cocked eyebrow and two mugs of steaming coffee in his hands. "As much as I hate to admit this, he's a guest."

"Where were you?" Kei seemed to ignore Kankuro's threat. "Growing the coffee beans yourself?"

And so, Kankuro ignored Kei and walked calmly into the living space, stepping effortlessly around and over cats in his way. The talking cat held out his paws expectantly, but the puppeteer handed one of the mugs to Kiba, who accepted the coffee with surprise.

"Thanks," he mumbled. He watched as Kankuro sat cross-legged on the floor in front of the small couch with slight unease. "Do you-?"

He was about to offer his seat.

"Guest," was all the elder said, before he sipped the black liquid in his mug.

Kei snorted. "And I thought I was a pussy…" The cat slipped off the couch gracefully and, with a low purr rumbling in his throat, swayed up to Kankuro on all fours; he nuzzled the puppeteer's side and crawled onto his lap, slipping onto his back to bare his stomach and clawed at the bottom of Kankuro's coffee. "C'mon, Maneki Neko-chan…"

"If I give you the coffee, will you fuck off?"

"Only to the kitchen…"

The brunet wordlessly handed his mug to Kei as soon as the cat had wriggled upright; the moment the coffee was securely in his paws, Kei was gone.

Kankuro sighed.

"Too soft," Kiba commented, smirking. "Where has the old Kankuro gone?"

"Don't know. Guess he died."

"Like… when you stopped being a ninja?"

"Probably…"

Kiba frowned. "You say it so… casually!"

"For me, it is," Kankuro replied airily, scratching a tabby behind its cheekbone. "If someone like Naruto quit being a shinobi, that wouldn't be so casual. Or even someone like you – you're built and designed to be a nin – it's in your very genes to be a shinobi. Me…?" Kankuro shrugged.

"No, what?"

"…I was made to be a shinobi in a different way. Father had his plans. I was merely a pawn, a back-up if – gods forbid – Gaara should fail. Now that I'm not needed- don't give me that fuckin' look, Inuzuka." He huffed. "The world is – touch wood – in peace." He grabbed a random puppet joint on the floor, which alerted several kittens to it; they pounced on the puppet part without mercy. "The Uchiha is safely back in Konoha, Orochimaru's long gone, Akatsuki is dead and the only trouble we have are caused by tiny rebel groups and they're easily dispatched. I'm not needed. I am, however, needed – and wanted – at Kame-za."

The dog-nin nodded slowly.

"Listen, Kiba." The younger's gaze shot to the puppeteer sharply – Kankuro had never called him by his first name. "…I'm okay with you being here, alright? It's just when you appear out of nowhere, nosing around in my business and trying to change my life for the better, as you call it, that I get…"

"Pissy," Kiba filled in. "I guess I can understand."

"It's like if someone came up to you and told you to give up Akamaru."

The dog-nin made a face.

"Precisely…"

"I guess I was a bit rash… Temari obviously doesn't know the full story, but… yeah…"

They fell into a void of silence.

Kiba suddenly snickered a little. "You know… I kinda didn't recognise you when you opened the door. I mean, it wasn't until yesterday that I found out your hair colour and style, and this morning, you answer the door with no… theatre paint, or whatever you call it, and more than half-naked. I'd say, ninety per-cent naked."

Kankuro looked down at his black boxers and nodded slowly, smirking.

"I can see the dilemma. If you want, I can go get… what do you kids call it? Decent?"

"Hey, don't call me a kid!" The dog-nin huffed indignantly. "And you don't have to go put clothes on. It's your home. Do what you want."

"Okay then."

The elder then hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his underwear and began to shimmy them down his hips.

"Woah, okay, keep your clothes on!" Kiba yelled, laughing and trying to blot out the image of nicely-defined hips and that trail of dark hair leading to… ahem, out of his head. "I didn't mean it like that…"

"But you said I could do what I want, as it's my home."

"Yeah, within reason!" Kiba had to admit that the sight of Kankuro chuckling was a nice one; not that the ex-Suna nin wasn't nice-looking to begin with. "Now, this ain't so bad."

"What, me ninety per-cent naked?"

"Ugh, not what I meant! This – us – laughing. Just yesterday, you were telling me to fuck off back home, and now I'm sat on your couch, chatting to you as if we've been buddies for years. Bet you're glad I didn't fuck off, eh?"

"Slightly," Kankuro replied, somewhat cheekily. "As I said, just as long as you don't try and rule my life, I'm okay with you being here."

"I'm not giving up on trying to get you back with your siblings at least, though."

"Wouldn't have expected less of you, Mutt."

Kiba watched idly as the elder scratched his tousled, bed-ruffled hair, silence settling over them. His attention grew, however, when Kankuro made a face, staring at his hand strangely, flexing his fingers. Was it happening? Was Kankuro losing his sense of touch in his hands like Iwao feared? Kiba hoped not. He really hoped not.

"Something wrong?" the Konoha shinobi asked innocently.

The elder jerked out of his daze. "Hm? No… I just slept funny on my arm, so it's still a little… dead."

Two words sprung to the Inuzuka's mind:

'Oh' and 'Fuck'.


"Puppetry is a highly effective and dynamically creative means of exploring the richness of interpersonal communication. By its very nature, puppetry concentrates on the puppet rather than the puppeteer. This provides a safety zone for the puppeteer and allows for exploration of unlimited themes through a safe and non-threatening environment for communication…"

To be quite frank, Kiba didn't quite understand that. Kankuro had said it to him before he had left for his rehearsal at Kame-za, when they had been talking about… things; things like Konoha and Suna's current state (non-politically, of course), and the troubles of having older sisters and (as stated before) Kankuro's love of puppetry. They had spent over four hours ("Was it four hours? Felt like less…") talking like, well, 'old buddies' as Kiba had put it. Honestly, he felt a little bad for the puppeteer; suddenly, someone from his past arrives and starts trying to preach like his older sister, who thinks that Kankuro is being kidnapped and brainwashed by his theatre, when it turns out that the middle Sabaku just… wants to act and be a theatre brat.

Thinking about it, the dog-nin would gladly return to Konoha and tell Temari that Kankuro was quite happy on his own, at the Kame-za – and even risking her wrath – if it wasn't for Iwao.

"I just slept funny on my arm, so it's still a little… dead."

Those words spun around his mind. It's happening, Kiba thought, is it too late?

He sighed heavily, flopping back on the couch, inadvertently and involuntarily sending out a silent invitation to a few cats that they were welcome to sleep on him. He ignored them, rubbing his eyes tiredly, despite the caffeine in his system.

That statement stuck out in his mind… why? The look in Kankuro's eyes when he had said that final speech about puppetry – it was like… a question? An unconscious plea? The younger couldn't tell. Cats were confusing, and Kankuro was one cat-like bastard.

So, he decided to think logically about it. He had to, if he was going to help the Suna male and stay on good terms with him, he was going to have to be strategic. Before, his plan was simply to knock some sense into him and drag his sorry ass straight back to Temari, but that had been before he realised that this was actually serious, and not Kankuro being some wooden assed prick.

Kankuro's whole being was at stake, and the bastard didn't even know it. Or he was lying to himself about it.

"Puppetry explores the richness of interpersonal communication" or something to that degree, Kiba recalled, scowling at the flaky ceiling. He wasn't quite sure what interpersonal meant, but he supposed it was something to do with -…

"'Hoy, whatcha thinkin' of?"

Kiba nearly dislodged all the cats that had settled on top of him in shock, causing them to dig their claws into his skin. He hissed at them, earning a multitude of hisses back.

"Alright, ladies, calm down," Kei muttered as he walked in, cigarette between his lips. He looked at Kiba with questioning yellow eyes. "So, what's causin' those frowns?"

"Just stuff," the dog-nin replied, settling back down.

"Maneki-chan?"

"If you mean Kankuro, then yes."

Kei rolled his eyes. "Kankuro is Maneki-chan. I call him that, 'cause it's short for Maneki Neko."

"The welcoming cat?"

"Mm hm. Well, he is quite welcoming, as you can see." Kei gestured to all the cats around them. "Plus, Tsuki already got dibs on 'Kanky'."

"I see… I think…"

The cat strode over to the couch and hopped onto it, shooing another feline off so he could sit on his chest.

"So, what's got you so confused about him?"

Kiba sighed. "Just something he said before he left and… other things."

"Like…?"

"He…" The nin huffed. "He said something that I'm thinking is cryptic. I don't know if it's a Freudian slip or…"

"What did he say?"

"I can't remember it word for word, but… it was something about puppetry being a safety zone for the puppeteer and something about interpersonal communication… and how in puppetry, it's all about the puppet and not the puppeteer."

"What's so cryptic about that?" Kei asked around his cigarette, arching a furry eyebrow. "He's just explaining how he views puppeteering. And to be honest, it is all about the puppet, especially in the theatre. Even when the puppeteer's on stage, the puppet is the centre of attention; it's what tells the story to the audience. People like Kankuro only direct the puppet to tell the story, and show it how to move and react. The puppeteer's not supposed to be anything, not supposed to feel anything."

Kiba's eyes widened as something clicked. "Not… supposed to feel anything?"

"Kankuro explained it to me once. He said that when he's… fighting with Karasu and the others or when he's doing Bunraku, he feels like he becomes one with his puppets, therefore, if he feels anything, he's not right, or in the zone or whatever you want to call it. He practises it a lot…"

The brunet sat up suddenly, sending all the cats to the floor in a comical heap. It really did click. Kankuro didn't notice his lack of touch because he was almost always connected to a puppet to practise getting into the zone (which then caused his lack of touch). Or maybe Kankuro did know… he did say he was passionate about the theatre, and if he wasn't a nin anymore, then the theatre was all that mattered, and if the theatre was all that mattered, then all Kankuro had was being a puppeteer, and if being a good puppeteer meant giving up his ability to feel, then-!

"Ouch, my head hurts…" the Inuzuka whined, scratching his scalp.

"Your head hurts? What about mine, you fuckin'…!" Kei snapped from the floor, hissing somewhat.

"I don't care, at least you can feel pain!"

With that said (or rather, shouted…), Kiba leapt up from the couch and beckoned Akamaru, rushing out the door.

Kei blinked. "I don't understand dogs sometimes…"


"Step away from me, pathetic spectre! I do not wish to be near your depressive aura any longer!"

"But it is you who makes my aura shine brighter than any star! You cannot leave me!"

"You heard the woman. She does not wish to be around the ethereal shell of a man any longer…"

"One day you shall be like me! Mark my words. Even a fierce warrior like you shall be swamped by fear, and even the most beautiful woman in the world shall doubt herself… this is my oath."

There was silence.

"Good, good, that was good…" Shin-sensei murmured, smiling.

The three actors on stage visibly relaxed, each sighing heavily, yet standing perfectly still on stage.

Iwao was the first to speak. "Damnit, I hate being the ghost…"

"It's an important part, Iwao," Tsukiko soothed. "Without the ghost-!"

"Yeah, yeah, I know, you've said before. But one day, I shall be like you, Kankuro – I shall be the fierce warrior! Mark my words!"

"That'll be the day," the brunet replied with a smirk.

"Break!" someone nearby called.

"Aah, yeah! Great, I'm starvin'!" Iwao smacked his lips, before grimacing. "This make-up may be made from rice, but it don't taste like it."

"Hm…" Kankuro mused as he walked away. "I heard it has lead in it."

Laughter boomed behind him as Tsukiko fell into giggles at Iwao's horrified stare. He smirked silently to himself as he picked up a wet towel offered to him by a theatre attendant and wiped the white and red stage make-up off, sighing at the deliciously cool air that hit his newly-bared skin and near-ripping the long black wig and cap off his head, shaking his hair out.

"'Hoy, Maneki-chan!"

His good mood fell instantly. "Kei."

The cat scampered up to him, cigarette perched between his fangs. "'Hoy. Listen, I lost the dog. Don't kill me."

"…Why would I kill you? He has his own free will. He probably went off exploring or digging holes or whatever."

"Actually…" Kei winced. "We were talking about you and then suddenly, he scarpers! Last thing he said – after throwing me on the floor – was at least I could feel pain! The strange nerve."

Kankuro, beneath the thin layer of white paint left on his skin, paled, green eyes widening. The other two seemed to notice this, as they wandered over, expressions filled with curiosity and worry. The brunet said nothing, just stared out at nothing and everything, mind ticking over thoughts; one particular thought kept popping up:

What is that damn mutt doing?

"Apologise to Shin-sensei and the troupe," Kankuro suddenly said; it was unclear whether he was talking to Kei or Tsukiko or Iwao.

"What? Why? Where're you going?" the only female asked.

"I've got some bones to pick with a certain mutt…"

It all clicked into place in Iwao's mind as he watched the elder puppeteer stride out of the theatre.

Good luck, Kiba-kun, he wished, silently, in his mind.


Kankuro searched all over town, but couldn't find hide nor hair of the dog-nin.

Kiba wasn't at his apartment, wasn't at the Kage's palace, wasn't at the market… he searched down alleys– in fact, he searched practically everywhere, and as the sun set, he gave up. After final scout around the palace, he found out from a guard that Kiba had been there briefly to collect his belongings as well as a messenger bird, but hadn't been seen since midday.

He's gone home, Kankuro decided, as he jutsu'd back to his apartment.

Boy, how he was wrong.

As he opened the door, he was met with the sight of Kei sleeping on top of a snoozing white dog, which was also surrounded by dozing cats who were snuggled into his warm fur in various manners. Kankuro grit his teeth, shutting the door. He was about to call out for the dog-nin, when something else caught his eye.

His couch. Or rather, the lack of his couch.

Oh, he had a sofa, but it wasn't his. It was new. Plain cream, but new. The air smelt fresher too. The wooden floors were clean and the walls looked scrubbed. Puppet parts were tidied into various boxes in the corner and… plants?

Kankuro wandered curiously into the kitchen, to see that it was just as clean as his main room. There were no stained coffee cups lying around, all the cat bowls that weren't in use were sparkling clean and piled on the counter, which in turn looked like brand new marble. He turned quickly and strode into his bedroom. Yes, that too was different. Well, cleaner. Karasu was propped up against the wall, and Kiba…

The dog-nin was curled up on his new-looking bed, asleep. The elder rubbed his eyes, sighing and sliding down the wall.

"What the hell are you doing, mutt?" he mumbled to the air. Idly, he rubbed the stubble on his jaw, eyes gazing out the dark window at the distant lights of nearby apartments and houses. "Damnit…"

There was a groan as Kiba came round; the younger nuzzled the white, puffy covers. "Mn? Mn…" Darkest brown eyes opened and blearily locked onto Kankuro. "Hello K'nkuro…" he mumbled, smiling lazily and stretching, before he tensed, obviously getting a hold of himself and sitting bold upright as if that Uchiha had shoved a wave of chidori up his ass. "Aha, h-hey, Kankuro! How are you? Sorry, guess I was a bit tired…"

"Oh yeah," Kankuro said pleasantly. The Konoha nin couldn't help but shrink back – that tone of voice was really eerie… "I guess it's understandable being tired… after rea-fucking-ranging my whole shitting apartment! What the hell, Inuzuka?"

"It wasn't just me, alright?" Kiba protested. "Tsukiko and Iwao and Kei helped! And all your cats, as freaky as that was. We just… tidied a bit."

"You literally whitewashed my apartment and replaced everything apart from my puppets and scrolls, I bet."

"So? It looked shit."

"Do you live here?"

"Kei does."

Kankuro grinded his teeth. "Let's not get into that argument again, okay?" Green eyes stayed narrowed. "I thought you'd gone home."

"Oh, were you gonna miss me?"

"Don't flatter yourself, dog-breath. So, mind telling me yourself what you and Kei were talking about?"

Kiba blinked. "Uhm…?"

"At least you can feel pain… so, Inuzuka, what did you mean by that?"

"You would know… ah… okay," the dog-nin sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Seems we're not going to beat around the bush…" He stood and moved in front of Kankuro, staring down at the elder for a moment or two, before raising a leg and placing his foot on the other's shoulder, leaning in. Kankuro scowled and grabbed Kiba's ankle. "Oh, can you feel that? And I don't mean in your shoulder."

The Suna male scowled deeper. "I don't know what you mean."

"I thought we weren't beating around the bush."

Kankuro said nothing.

"So tell me, what does my ankle feel like?"

Still, he said nothing.

"Talk to me, Kankuro."

"It's not your business."

"I'm making it my business. So tell me. Or…" He suddenly straddled the puppeteer's hips and grabbed his hand, placing it between his own two and applying pressure. "How warm is my skin?" When the other still didn't reply, Kiba let out a hiss of frustration. "Damnit, Kankuro! …Can you feel this?" Kiba squeezed the puppeteer's hand, grinding the bones. "Or this?"

He promptly stuck one of Kankuro's fingers in his mouth, sucking once before clamping his sharp teeth down on the digit. Blood seeped into his mouth, filling his senses with a coppery, yet sweet taste, but he ignored it, sharp eyes always locked with Kankuro's blank green orbs. Their gazes battled for what felt like eternity. He let the finger slip from his mouth, however, when those forest eyes closed wearily.

He suddenly felt his anger and frustration flood from his very bones. He was now feeling incredibly… sad? No, he wasn't sad, per se… he was upset for Kankuro's sake – pity, he supposed – but there was another part of him that was wounded simply because of the elder's predicament.

"Here's what we're gunna do," he murmured. Idly, he licked his lips, tasting that strange blood which didn't taste all that normal. "We're gonna go to Konoha. Tsunade can help – I sent her a message this morning. And Temari and Gaara are still-"

"They can't know," Kankuro cut it, eyes snapping open. "They can't know. Don't tell them."

Kiba noted absent-mindedly that the elder was squeezing his hand in a desperate manner, even though his eyes refused to reveal his emotions.

"Okay, I promise I won't tell them."


Miles and miles away, the busty Hokage was just standing from her desk when there was a loud 'bang' on the glass behind her.

Shizune jumped, as Tsunade whirled around, eyes narrowed as she stared out the now-blotched window; there was a bird-shaped smudge as well as a little white patch below it.

"Just a damn bird," the blonde huffed, rolling her eyes at her aid.

"A messenger bird, look!" Shizune pointed at the window, where there was a large falcon flapping its wings desperately to stay airborne. "It's from Suna. It must be urgent, if they're using that kind of bird."

"Open it… working late, again," Tsunade murmured, sitting back down and watching as the medic-nin opened the window and offered her arm to the bird of prey. "What does it say?"

Shizune unrolled the scroll. "It's from Inuzuka Kiba… oh my, Tsunade, listen – Hokage-sama, not much time to write this, but Kankuro needs help. He's too much of a prick to realise-slash-admit it, but I'm working on it. One of the puppeteers at Kame-za told me of a condition that puppeteers can suffer, where they lose sense of touch. It's said to be like overusing the Sharingan. I'm worried- oh, wait, no. That was crossed out… I think that Kankuro is losing his touch. I'll try to find out as much as I can here, but I think it's too advanced and unspoken of here, but it's to do with a puppeteer's connection with their puppet. I need- no, crossed out again… he needs your help, Hokage-sama. Just don't tell Kazekage-sama or Temari-san – I don't think Kankuro would want them to know, seeing how… uh, scribble… how secretive he's been. Sorry for the short notice – I only just found out this morning! Signed, Inuzuka Kiba."

There was a brief moment of silence.

"I didn't think it possible for one to lose the feeling of touch," Shizune murmured, rereading the somewhat crumpled letter.

"Could be over-sensitising of nerve endings in the hands…" Tsunade replied, frowning, mind ticking. "We'll deal with it in the morning. Surely they can wait that long?"


"How did you find out?"

"Iwao."

"Ah… shoulda known…"

Kiba smiled without emotion, a mere quirking of the lips, as his eyes wandered over Kankuro's weary form. The puppeteer had remained where he was – propped up against the wall – whilst Kiba had migrated the perch on the edge of the futon. The atmosphere had turned somewhat taut and tense as they both thought through what had come out, as well as what they could possibly do in future.

Kankuro, however, refused to meet the younger's eye.

The dog-nin supposed it was to do with pride. Damn Suna-nin. Damn theatre-types. Damn Kankuro.


Demi: Yeah... i'm really not too sure about this story - reassurance, please? -puppypout-