A Kind of Magic
Disclaimer:I don't own Naruto. This story is inspired by the tales of a sweet little thief, loosely based on a novel by Megumi Tachikawa.
Author's Note:Enjoy the sweet adventures of a new thief, a phantom named, Tanuki.
Summary: Midori experiences her first run-in with extortion after she loses tickets to the play she promised to take Kakashi to and the person who finds them gives her a very difficult time.
Chapter Eight: The Magician and the Musical
Her ponytail fluttered in the wind like a billowing streamer as she glided away on a large white plume. Lips pulled into a mischievous grin, she said, "Better luck next time!"
She had managed to escape again, and he'd never understand how she was so good at doing so. The elusive thief had seemed an easy capture when he'd first agreed to take on the assignment. He should have never underestimated her for she was proving with each new caper that she was quite capable.
Her skills were something to be admired despite their peculiar whimsical qualities.
Sighing, he decided it was best to ponder her unique characteristics at a more appropriate time. Just because she had gotten away again didn't mean it was time to call it quits for the evening. It was wiser to do some investigating and seek out clues if she left any behind.
Komachi looked to him attentively as he spoke in an instructive voice. "Let's split up to cover more ground and check for any possible indications of her whereabouts."
She nodded and set out, careful to scan every inch of the premises. Eyes narrowed in focus, they caught a glimpse of a small pouch settled nearby on the floor. She crouched low to the ground to examine the pouch and its contents. It contained a collection of shuriken and two protruding tickets which caused for closer inspection. She paused suddenly and brought the tickets to her face so that she could make out the writing through the dim lighting.
They were for Icha Icha Paradise: The Musical.
If Saint Tanuki had dropped them, they would be very useful to her in the near future. She had already calculated that she could possibly use them for leverage or at least perhaps gain some kind of indication as to the thief's identity. If all else failed, she could invite Kakashi to accompany her. She highly doubted that he would turn down such an offer. She knew what a fan he was of the Icha Icha series.
"Did you find anything?" Kakashi asked, appearing suddenly at her side.
"No," she lied, "nothing over here."
-Backstage at the Konoha Theater-
Jhai hastily crossed the room to find his teammate. She seemed to be enjoying their volunteer work as stagehands more than he was, and he had been the one to convince her of the promising good time they would have. He shifted over slightly, careful to avoid stepping over a cluster of random props, and treaded toward the young woman in his view.
She gave a bright smile when he approached. He couldn't help himself but to grin as he scratched the back of his neck. "Having fun?"
"I am," she admitted, "stagehands are very important to the show, more so than I realized. It has been a wonderful experience thus far."
The pair turned to stare as a newcomer impressed upon their conversation by accidentally stumbling between them. The young man managed to regain his balance and composure as he faced them. "I'm very sorry," he said. "I've had nothing but bad luck lately."
Both stared in awe when they realized it was the famous actor Kazuhiko Nakamura. Kazuhiko was quite popular for his motion picture roles as well as his emergence in Broadway. He was most famous for his role as the lead actor in the touring play Icha Icha Paradise: The Musical. The play had gone on to be a film of which he also starred. The motion picture had jump-started his career, but he still preferred to tour with the play's troupe, and that tour had finally brought him to Konohagakure.
"Where are my manners? I'm Nakamura Kazuhiko, but please call me Kazuhiko," he said, extending his hand out first to Jhai and then to Hotaru in a formal shake. The two teammates returned the introduction by listing their names aloud, both noting his modesty despite the stardom.
"I'm sorry for your stroke of bad luck Kazuhiko-sama," said Hotaru with genuine concern. "I am sure it will come to pass soon enough."
"I don't know about that," he frowned. Kazuhiko moved to grab three chairs and set them in a triangular arrangement. He took a seat in the middle chair and motioned for Hotaru and Jhai to take the others. They both obliged. "I can't even get on stage this week. I've never gotten stage fright, but every time I'm out there, I become afraid and run off. I can't memorize my lines at all. I've forgotten them completely. If this continues, I'm going to ruin the play's opening night and my career."
"Is it nerves?" asked Hotaru.
Kazuhiko shrugged. "I don't think so. You see, I've lost my good luck charm—rather, it's been stolen from me. It's a signed first edition Icha Icha Paradise novel that my mentor gave me before he died. It's very special to me because he wrote a goodbye message to me on the inside of the front cover."
"Where was it stolen?" Jhai leaned forward in his seat, eager to hear the answer. He hadn't mentioned his knowledge of Midori's heroic moonlighting yet to either her or Hotaru, but he suspected that this could very well be her next assignment. Judging by Hotaru's concerned features, he had assumed correctly.
"It went missing at my 'Come, Come: An Actor's Journey' book signing at Mariko's Books. I was closing up the signing when a young girl approached me. She was Naomi Kuwabara, the daughter of this theater's owner. She begged me to sign her copy of my novel, and I couldn't refuse. I left to go get another pen, but when I returned she was gone and so was my good luck charm." Kazuhiko shook his head, still in disbelief that he'd let his charm be taken from him. He should have kept a keener eye on it instead of taking it for granted that it wouldn't be stolen. "Without it, I will single-handedly ruin opening night for this play."
"Good luck charms are a myth. All you need is what's in here," said Jhai as he pointed to the left side of his chest. At first, it seemed he was metaphorically pointing to his heart until he reached inside his jacket and revealed a Japanese Oakblue butterfly perched upon his finger. "A mythical butterfly."
Oakblue wings expanded and fluttered as shimmering dust fell from them. The dust whirled in a spiral of glistening powder, tickling the skin of Kazuhiko in a magical touch.
Kazuhiko stared at him incredulously. He couldn't be serious, or so he thought he wasn't until the young man used the same finger with the butterfly to wipe away a tear. It was an interesting sort of pep talk, something he hadn't seen or heard before, but he would have much preferred something more normal than peculiar. He considered inching his chair closer to the young woman to at least place some distance between him and the insect lover.
Hotaru placed a comforting hand to his wrist. "Perhaps your understudy can take your place on stage if you are unable to perform."
"I can't allow my alternate to go on for me during opening night. That would ruin me," he said in defeat. This troublesome predicament had put his career at risk.
She looked contemplative for a moment, tilting her head slightly as if it promoted more circulation and cognitive reasoning. "I have a strong feeling that you will get your charm back, Kazuhiko-sama," she said at last, patting him gently at the shoulder.
Gazing into those periwinkle eyes, Kazuhiko felt overwhelmed with a sense of ease. He would keep faith in the young woman's words. It was better than the worrying and constant fretting he had been doing. It didn't hurt to believe.
-Yamanaka Flower Shop, Late Afternoon-
"It's absolutely imperative that you get that book back," explained Hotaru as she watched Midori sweep remnant leaves into a dustpan.
The auburn-haired woman used her to sleeve to brush the beaded sweat gathered at her forehead after her task was completed. A smile overtook her face suddenly as her hand reached into the front flap of her mint-green apron.
"It just so happens that," Midori trailed off as she tugged out a paper to display. "I've got tickets to the play this Friday night!"
Wordlessly, Hotaru only stared. What Midori had meant to produce from the front flap of her apron certainly wasn't what she currently held in her hand. Instead, she held a shinobi assessment report from her last C-Rank mission she had attended. Red marks splashed across the paper in constructive notes for improvement, many of which were perhaps a little too harsh of criticisms. Midori had received a deplorable letter grade in her performance.
Eyes widened as she realized that what she currently held in her hand were not the tickets, but her last mission's assessment report. She had meant to force the abomination of a report down the shredder in Ino's office, but had forgotten to do so. That wasn't even the worst part of it.
Frantically, she shoved both hands into her apron's front pockets, brushing them carefully through in search of the tickets. When they could not find their target, her hands dipped into her kunai holster and the pouches at her waist.
"I can't believe this," she exclaimed. She rifled through her regular pant pocket, praying that she would find them there. Turning the pocket inside-out revealed nothing but small clusters of lint. She then ran to the register, unlocked the drawer where personal belongings were contained and removed her knapsack. Panicked, she turned the sack inside-out as well and dumped its contents onto the counter of the register in a heap of miscellaneous items.
"Is something wrong?" Hotaru asked, approaching to help Midori sort the contents of her bag. She bent low to the floor to pluck a compact mirror that had fallen during the chaotic investigation and returned it to the knapsack.
"This is a disaster! I lost the tickets!" Midori began inspecting her wallet carefully, looking into every fold and compartment. She shook it recklessly when it didn't produce the tickets. "Do you know how hard these tickets are to come by?" Her eyes began to water from the distress, making them appear misty.
"I had no idea you were such a fan of Icha Icha Paradise, Midori-chan. I never would have suspected you," Hotaru speculated, placing a hand to her chin as she gazed dubiously at her friend's frenetic search efforts. The newly surfaced information had certainly come as a shock; she'd have to adjust her schema of Midori in order to accept it.
Heaping everything back into her knapsack and returning it to the personal belongings drawer, she collapsed atop the countertop and hung over it miserably. "They're not for me," she explained in a groan.
"They're not?" Hotaru asked, bewildered. She could feel the muscles of her brow tighten into a crease. Things were becoming increasingly more confusing with each second.
Midori shook her head and looked up from her strange slumped position as her hands continued to dangle over the counter, woozily swaying. "Remember yesterday I told you that I had the most humiliating accident of my life on Saturday?"
Hotaru nodded her confirmation. "Yes, I remember."
"Well I was doing a flower run, delivering this extravagant arrangement to the Hokage's office for some seminar when I ran into Hatake. It was in the Hokage's office when I'd just asked Tsunade to assign me a Sensei to tutor me for the Jounin exams since Takuto-Sensei won't be back from his mission for a few weeks." Midori peeled herself from the countertop, suddenly becoming very animated in her facial expressions and hand gestures.
"Hatake, jerk that he is, waltzes into her office like some big shot. Lady Tsunade says that she's found the perfect candidate for me and tells me to turn around. Well, I guess I turned too abruptly because I smacked right into him with the arrangement in my arms. All of the water from the vase spilled over his novel and drenched it. It was completely humiliating!" Midori buried her face in her arms, slumping back over the countertop as if she were trying to abstain from reliving the nightmare.
"How fortunate," smiled Hotaru.
Head lifted up, Midori's eyes went wide. "Fortunate? That's not lucky at all! Do you know what else happened?" Midori didn't wait for Hotaru to respond, and instead continued. "So, after we clean everything up and see that his book is ruined, he walks me out of the Hokage's office. I promised him I'd buy him a new one, but since the acting troupe is in town, all of the stores are totally sold out of them."
Producing a clone of Kakashi, she began to reenact the scene. In a voice similar to Kakashi's but overdramatic in its delivery, she said, "You know, I'd really like to see the 'Icha Icha Paradise Musical' opening night. Let's make a deal, Niwa."
"Are you asking me to treat you? Don't you know that those tickets are impossible to get? Opening night is this Friday and that's blackmail!" Midori waved her arms at the Kakashi clone in astonishment, but mostly in frustration. The clone wasn't even remotely fazed by her actions.
"I guess you'd like to remain a chunin for the rest of your shinobi career then. Besides, blackmail is such an ugly word. I prefer the term extortion or clever use of leverage," the clone said. His smug smile could be interpreted through the way his visible eye crinkled.
"No, no! It would be my pleasure to treat you to the play. Really, I mean it!" Midori then released the jutsu and spoke normally again. "Can you believe him? He said that it was the only way he'd even consider taking me as a student after all the trouble I'd caused for him by ruining his damn book!"
"So you two are going out on a date," Hotaru pointed out with excitement in her lavender orbs. "I bet you're so thrilled for Friday night, especially considering this is your first date with anyone."
"Are you insane?" Midori demanded. "Didn't you hear what I said? He's blackmailing me. Those tickets are completely sold out! I was lucky enough to bribe Ebisu to give them to me. I had to give him all of this month's and last month's salary, and I had to give him my prized Ichigo Rush manga collection!"
Her face suddenly fell at the remembrance of her dilemma. Her hands lowered from making gestures to drooping back over the counter as she pressed her cheek miserably to the cool surface. It pulled at her skin, stretching her features as she groaned. "And now, I've lost the tickets and can't replace them. What do I do Hotaru-chan?"
"There, there," consoled Hotaru as she patted Midori gently on the back.
-The Following Day, Village's Square-
Fussily, the young woman moved onto the next group of people and asked them the same question she had been asking everyone she saw that day. Every member of the group shook their head and she frowned in disappointment. Her face brightened when she spotted four familiar faces. She approached them immediately to ask them the same, but they all had the unchanged answer. No one had found the misplaced tickets.
"It's a shame that you lost them," said Tenten as she applied a fresh coat of lip gloss. She returned the tube back to Ino who tucked it back into her purse. The blonde seemed too concerned with her cosmetic products to make a clear response.
"I doubt that you'll get another set of tickets so close to opening night," agreed Sakura with an apologetic expression. She was right, of course. Everyone in the village had been more than thrilled that the acting troupe had finally made its way to Konohagakure. It was their chance to finally see Kazuhiko Nakamura perform.
Sakura began to say more but Midori hushed her as she peered beyond the girl's muscular shoulder. "They might hear you!" Kakashi and Gai had appeared from around the corner, a flash of silver and an explosion of green walking side by side.
As expected, both men approached. "Don't forget about Friday, and I promise you'll pass the Jounin Exam with flying colors," Kakashi called out before continuing on their path in leisure strides. Midori, forcing a smile, lifted her hand in an uncomfortable wave until they disappeared.
"Midori-chan has promised Kakashi-san that she would take him, you see," Hotaru explained to the other girls. Lit up faces seemed to beam enthusiastically.
"You're going with Kakashi-Sensei? I thought you two were always fighting, and he's training you for the Jounin Exams?" asked Sakura, lifting her eyebrows in a suggestive pink arch.
"It's not like that at all, I swear! I can explain, really." Midori chuckled nervously. She began to back away from the group, but that only prompted them to leer closer.
"Sure you can," Sakura and Ino both said in unison.
"What does it matter," Midori sighed, "I've already lost the tickets." Defeated, she hung her head low. Hotaru scooped her friend in an embrace and tenderly stroked her back in an effort to comfort her.
Komachi shifted in her crouched position and set an arm down to dangle at her side. The hand lazily removed two tickets from her pocket. She gazed at them, thinking back to Saint Tanuki carelessly leaving them behind at the scene of the last caper. Head lifted up in a startling realization, she murmured, "Could Midori be…?"
Her heart skipped a beat.
She didn't complete the thought verbally because inside she already knew what remained to be said. Her mouth formed a straight and determined line. There was a new course of action she would take from this point forward, and it would lead her to the capture of an absentminded thief.
-Konohagakure Training Field, Afternoon-
He was late, as always, and now that he had finally arrived he had busied himself by speaking with Captain Yamato and Naruto. It would take him even more time to finally make his way over to her and initiate the lessons she so desperately needed in order to pass the upcoming exams. She frowned at the thought, wondering what excuse he would make this time, but she already knew he'd mention something along the lines of becoming lost on life's path and such.
Scanning the training field, she noticed some of that year's other jounin hopefuls as they worked zealously to improve their level of jutsu. She would be wise to do the same.
She could choose to work on her strong points or her weakness. Taijutsu was her Achilles heel, her downfall. While she was agile and an expert in precision when it came to hurling kunai or shuriken, she failed at hand-to-hand combat. She didn't have the strength or the constitution for unarmed fighting. Her lack of ability in the area had convinced her to steer clear of that type of attack strategy and to only rely on long-distance battle methods. She'd become a very good aim as a result, but would likely never excel in a close-range match.
As a shinobi, this could be a detrimental failing indeed, but she didn't like to dwell on it. Her focus was of better use elsewhere. There were ways to compensate for her flaws.
Glancing over at each target, she carefully calculated each future throw of her kunai and readied herself for the feat. She afforded herself a calming breath to clear her mind and then cart-wheeled into a magnificent leap.
Spinning to give herself a more proper angle for the flurry she was prepared to unleash, she realized at last where she had lost the tickets when her hands could not find her primary shuriken pouch. She had left them in the pouch she dropped on the last heist she pulled. After her thoughts crystallized, she reached into her kunai holster, drew the blades and released a throw.
Four kunai soared from her hands, followed by a second angled throw. The last group hit the primary one and deflected them into their rightful targets. Her hands deftly threw six more, each in different directions before again deflecting them with a second group. They successfully connected with their targets and she moved onto the next ones.
Where were the tickets now? Still lost or had they been found by someone? She could always return to the scene and perhaps retrace her steps. There was a possibility she could recover the tickets still.
Her right hand moved to her kunai holster, each fingertip slipped itself into the ring of a handle and drew them out. The left hand captured three shuriken that she would use to change the course of direction of the kunai once she had thrown them.
Fingers twisted, spun the kunai and shuriken to the proper degree of an angle, and she pitched them with impressive force as they split through the air. She repeated the action flawlessly seven more times until every target was hit, even the ones located out of her line of vision.
She then stuck her landing with perfect balance, huffing slightly from the exertion of her movements.
"Incredible form," Sakura complimented, stepping out from behind the tree she had watched Midori from. "I had no idea you were so agile and acrobatic. Not to mention what a fantastic aim you are."
Recognition flashed through Midori's sapphire eyes. She had gotten carried away in her thoughts and demonstrated too much mastery in her aim. She hadn't meant to do so.
"Oh, I got lucky. It was just a finger twist and split is all," she said, trying to make little of the situation. She had worked hard to suppress certain abilities for fear of being connected too closely with her alter ego. She couldn't afford for anyone to catch on and make the comparison because it would follow that she'd become a suspect. If anyone ever looked into it further, they would find her out and put an end to her charade.
"That's more than thirty lucky shots in a row then," commented Sakura as she tossed over a towel. Midori caught the towel and pressed it to her forehead, dabbing at the sweat that had collected there. When she looked up, she noticed Komachi was present. The blonde had situated herself at Sakura's side, silently watching her with accusing eyes.
'She has to be Saint Tanuki to move so gracefully and efficiently like that,' thought Komachi as she continued to assess Midori's movements. The young woman had seemed startled to see her in the audience. Her confident skin was she shed, and she slipped back into her usual self-conscious one—notably suspicious behavior.
Komachi's attention was then drawn elsewhere as she turned to watch an orange clad shinobi hand a package to Kakashi. As soon as the package was in Kakashi's hands, it exploded in a shower of confetti. A note floated down from the glittering shower.
Tonight I will enter the Kuwabara Residence for Kazuhiko's book.
-St. Tanuki
"Kakashi-Sensei, let me read it," begged Naruto as he began to reach for the note, but Kakashi had successfully evaded the twitchy fingers. Komachi's eyes drifted back over to Midori. The young woman had also been watching intently, but was pretending to be occupied in wiping more sweat from her forehead.
"I think I'm going to call it a day," Midori said when Sakura asked how much longer she would train. The young woman had taken a few steps forward, but fell back when someone tugged her gently. She whirled around to face the intruder.
"Where do you think you're going?" Kakashi asked.
"You were late, and now I have a prior engagement," Midori replied indignantly.
Not wanting to interfere, Sakura made a quiet exit. Komachi had disappeared too it seemed.
"Well the Jounin Exam is only a short time away. You need to quit putting off your training. I'll bet you haven't even studied a single book." He bent low to collect a large pile of textbooks he'd left at his feet and let them slide heavily into her arms.
She struggled to balance them but collapsed under their pressure. Grumbling, she produced a scroll from her pocket, bit her thumb, and sealed the textbooks into it. She scrunched the scroll back up and secured it within the safe compartments of her garment.
"At least you know how to do that much," Kakashi surmised. "Now, how about a test?"
"A test?" she croaked, eyes widening. She was a horrible test taker, which was the biggest reason she was still only a chunin ranked ninja.
"That's right," he said as he removed a single bell and tied it at his waist. "You're goal is to obtain this bell within the next two hours. You are to come at me with the intent to kill."
"That seems kind of harsh," Midori said, skeptical of this type of examination. He ignored her and produced his favorite adult novel. The action immediately unsettled her. He never took her seriously, not as Saint Tanuki and not as Midori. "Seriously?"
"Seriously," he repeated. His gaze never lifted from the pages of his book.
The young woman braced herself, adopting a taijutsu position although she knew it was her weakest form. It was the exact reason why she had chosen to approach that way. It would be good practice and he could possibly give her pointers.
She would soon come to realize it was a mistake to attempt to take Kakashi head on. She would have been wiser in choosing a less direct approach. Strong arms imprisoned her almost instantly after she pivoted to attack.
Biting back the curses reserved for only him, she struggled within his grasp. Panicked breaths fled from her lungs as she twisted in a failed attempt at escaping. He shoved her forward abruptly and she staggered back into her wavering taijutsu stance. He had done so effortlessly, like she was barely a challenge or not even a challenge at all.
"Round two," he said mockingly as he turned the page of his book.
Swaying in her stance, she prepared herself physically and mentally for the next attempt. Again, she tried to take the bell from his waist but failed to even get close to it. He was just too unbelievably fast for her, too superior.
He had managed to get behind her and knock her off balance so that she leaned forward in an almost fall. Her right leg caught and supported her from losing her equilibrium as her eyes hastily searched their visual field for him. She couldn't find him.
"Kunoichi shouldn't wear such revealing clothing," his voice reached from behind her, "I can see your panties." There was no mistaking the hints of amusement in his tone. Though she was thoroughly embarrassed of his remark, she whirled around, kunai drawn. She forgot herself for a moment when she made eye contact with him. Weapon neglected, her free hand lifted and drew back in a spontaneous effort to slap him, but he seized it before it could make impact. "Trying to punish me?"
She averted his gaze. "You are so arrogant, Hatake."
He gently yanked at her wrist, knocking her off balance so that her body collided into his well-built chest. She felt the pages of a book press against her back as he held her there and her eyes widened in surprise. His mouth loomed dangerously close to her, the cloth of his mask brushing against the rim of her ear. "You're energetic as usual."
Desperately, she wrenched herself from the imprisonment. "You read too many adult novels. They've made you perverted."
It was impossible to tell for certain that beneath his despicably obscure mask his lips had curved into the hints of a derisive smile, but somehow she just knew.
He shrugged and pushed her away. "Try again. I might suggest you ambush me."
Annoyance flickered within her topaz eyes. "Well, I certainly lost the element of surprise because now you're expecting it."
'If I were Saint Tanuki,' she thought, 'this wouldn't be so difficult.' Chastised by her own thinking, she slumped forward in defeat. She groaned mournfully.
Midori remained evermore beneath the monstrously dark shadow casted upon her by her own alter ego. Though they were one and the same, she knew as the original she could never surpass her superior second self. As the original, she was dutifully meek and subservient. While as the phantom, she was unwaveringly fearless and daring. They were two components of one whole, but so entirely diverse in their framework and structure that the idea of being a singular apparatus was nearly unfathomable.
Then there were always those daunting questions of who was the true original, those constant inflictions of which part was the real self. Was she, Midori Niwa, the impersonated or the impersonator? Did a true self exist, and if so, did the false self have the capabilities of overpowering it?
"Let's take a break," Kakashi offered, jolting her from her reflection. His book was already put away as he began to walk towards the shade.
"I don't want to give up," she replied, "I know I'm a mediocre ninja, but I can do better."
A hand fell upon her head, patting it. Startled, she looked up at the sudden contact. His only visible eye crinkled into a smile, and she couldn't help but think that every smile he made was at least mildly condescending in its intention. Did he look down on her?
"Let's try the survival exercise another time. There was a sixty percent chance of failure, and I could already predict which statistic you were headed towards. How about a quick survey instead?"
His hand glided down to the small of her back as he guided her towards an expanse of shade. She took a seat and rested her back against the support of a tree. "Let's start with introductions. Tell me about yourself. You can begin with your name, your likes and dislikes, and your dream."
Warmth spread through her face despite the coolness of the shade. "Could you go first? I don't know what to say."
What could she say? Perhaps that she didn't know which self was the true self and incessantly struggled with her identity, that she liked to transform into her superior secondary self while she disliked returning to her original skin, and that her dream was to end the war brewing within her and discover who she was supposed to be.
"Sure," he replied off-handedly. "My name is Hatake Kakashi, but of course you know that already. My likes and dislikes are none of your business. My hobbies are none of your business, and I don't have a dream."
'Well that was informative,' she thought sarcastically.
There were those impenetrable walls he put up, painted in an ambiguous shade of grey. No amount of prodding would knock them down; they were too tall. No amount of digging would get her around them either; they were too stable in their foundation. And no amount of wishing them away would remove them. He was a cold being, seemingly alive on the outside, but almost lifeless within.
Wasn't there anything he was passionate about other than reading the musings of a perverted Sannin?
"Is your hobby pursuing Saint Tanuki?" she inquired, almost surprised at her own brazen audacity. She stubbornly wanted to draw it out of him, to pull something lucid and tangible from the cold fog of ambiguity. "I hear you've declined several missions so that you could go after her every time you get a calling card. Is that perhaps your dream—to catch her?"
"That's none of your business," he said. "It's not very lady-like to pry, but I suppose you're not very feminine to begin with." His usual unruffled tone had a cold edge to it as he spoke. She may have offended him, but couldn't seem to be capable of dropping the subject now that they were on it.
"I really want to know," she insisted, perhaps a little too assertively. Her eyes widened at the boldness of her manners, and she dropped the subject instantly, switching back to the first initial focus. "My name is Niwa Midori. I like flowers. I dislike being on constant flower delivery duty at the shop and going on difficult missions. My hobbies are gardening and making intricate flower arrangements. My dream is to figure out who I am because I haven't quite gotten around to it."
She left out the part where she also really disliked arrogant jounin like him for the sake of peace, but regretted it somewhat. She would have felt justified in putting him down slightly since he had spent most of their sparring session belittling her.
"How is it that you don't know who you are?" Kakashi asked. He was skeptical in his inquiry.
"I'm adopted," she stated flatly. "I do love my parents very much, but to know who I am, I need to know who and where I come from. The Niwas found me with no indication of what clan or hidden village I may have once belonged to, and I was too young to recall any of it."
"Do you dislike Konoha?" he asked.
She lifted her knees to her chest, hugging them. "Konoha is my home and always will be," she said, "but I can't help but feel that I need to unravel the mystery of my origin."
"I see," he said quietly. He was contemplating something, but she couldn't determine what it was. He was too vague, too closed-off. She could never predict very much with him.
"Mind if I speak with Niwa-san for a moment?" Komachi's voice called to them, causing them to turn their heads and watch as she approached from their rear.
"Another time," replied Kakashi. "We're in the middle of training."
"That's what taking a break is called these days? This is very important," Komachi insisted. Her features were solemn and tight.
Midori rose abruptly, hands brushing off any debris from her attire. "I mentioned I had a prior engagement that I need to tend to soon, so perhaps we can call it a day for training?"
"Very well," Kakashi conceded. "I do expect you to read the textbooks I gave you from cover to cover."
When Kakashi had vanished at last, Midori asked, "What did you need, Komachi-san?"
A hand dipped into her pocket, drawing out the edges of two tickets until they were completely unsheathed. She extended them out towards her company. "Here, they're yours aren't they?" Midori made no effort to reply. She wisely chose silence instead and waited for Komachi to elaborate on her actions. "Would you like to know where I got them? I found them actually."
She forced herself to composure, perhaps stiffening too much during her efforts. "Thank you, but those aren't mine."
"Oh, they're not?" she challenged. "I suppose I'll keep them for myself then."
Mortified, all Midori could do was maintain silence. What could she possibly say to that? She'd give herself away and play into Komachi's hands like a mouse in the claws of a cat. She refused to become the prey, even if it meant sacrificing the tickets.
"Kakashi is a big fan of Icha Icha Paradise, isn't he? I'm sure he'd be happy to join me when I ask him to the play's opening night."
She had to bite down on the inside of her cheeks to keep from speaking. The urge was strong, but the presence of pain silenced her. She couldn't afford to give into this. She wouldn't do it.
"Well, goodbye now," Komachi grinned.
Midori watched as she turned her muscular back to her and disappear into the thicket of trees. She was potentially relishing every delicious moment of it. In fact, she certainly was enjoying her small victory over her. The war brewing between the two had just begun, and this was a battle with many more ahead.
Of all the kunoichi in Konoha to find those tickets, it had to be Komachi. Such a thing would naturally follow after the broken strap of her getas. She should have been more cautious, more aware of the tickets and left them at home rather than keep them in a shuriken pouch.
Nothing could be done about that now. There was no use dwelling on the what-ifs. She had to deal with the present and weigh out her current options.
Canceling or flaking out on Kakashi was not one of those options even though the great risk of being caught flared before her. She couldn't bring herself to think of what would happen if she were to get caught because the thought of taking the easy way out and conceding defeat was much worse. The notion of disappointing him held merit too. He had been so excited about the play, and she had worked too hard to obtain the tickets for her to just give up now.
White knuckles clenched into two tight fists. She wasn't afraid of taking on Komachi's not-so-subtle declaration of rivalry. She wouldn't allow herself to get pushed around, not by her. That may have worked once when they were young, and Komachi could easily push her around, but things were entirely different now. Significantly different.
She may have been the same skeleton in the same skin, only human, but she was stronger. Perhaps in physical strength, tactics, and ingenuity she wasn't superior, but she was the superior mentalist. Even if it meant forcibly creating the very existence of possibilities of triumph, she'd rise above and overcome.
She would prove herself, not just as Saint Tanuki but as Midori Niwa. By proving herself, it would bring her closer to her ambition of discovering just who she was. Her longevity and perseverance had to be passed down, something bestowed through the genes of her lineage, and she believed this so deeply she could feel it in her bones.
Stepping forward in the direction of her home, she set out to prepare herself for the embraced challenge. She would stop the whole world before succumbing and surrendering.
-Konohagakure Stadium-
"You're very determined to capture the Phantom lately," Kakashi speculated as he observed Komachi's anxious pacing. She'd been walking back and forth eagerly awaiting the thief all evening.
"I can't allow a D-rank thief like her to best someone of my status. You should feel the same way," she replied impassively. She typically displayed more emotion than that. Her lack of it proved what a uniquely determined mood she was in that evening. It was almost as if the rivalry with the thief had become something more than a mission, something personal.
He shrugged. "For a D-rank thief, she's eluded the both of us many times," he reminded her before turning to Naomi Kuwabara. The young girl was protectively clutching a book to her chest. Her expression was defiant. She seemed wary and suspicious of every disturbance and movement, including his.
For that reason, they had chosen to relocate to the Konoha Stadium. Izumo and Kotetsu had been left behind at the Kuwabara Residence to await Saint Tanuki, but Kakashi highly doubted that she would fall for the trap they'd set there. She was too clever and too nimble to be caught by such. She'd figure out they had repositioned themselves in the arena soon enough.
"So, Kazuhiko's good luck charm, the autographed first edition Icha Icha Paradise?" he asked, reaching out for the novel, somewhat out of eagerness to protect it from the thief, but more out of selfish desire to hold it within his own hands.
"Back off," Naomi said, "you pervert."
"Pervert?" Kakashi repeated with a sigh. He had heard that recently before. Dejectedly, he withdrew but never took his envious eyes off of the novel. Perhaps one day he could get a hold of an autographed first edition.
Eyes followed every movement carefully from the shadows of the arena's hallways. The group had remained on the field, chatting amongst themselves as they waited for her. They hadn't even bothered themselves with an ambush tactic and had chosen to be out in the open, likely to coax her into a direct physical confrontation.
'Like a mouse in a trap,' she thought to herself, about to take a step forward when her ears caught their conversation and caused her to halt immediately.
"I have tickets to the Icha Icha Paradise play this Friday," said Komachi almost bashfully. Her arms were hidden behind her back and Midori could already guess what they were holding. "Would you like to go with me?"
His only visible eye widened for a moment until it crinkled into a soft smile. "The honor already belongs to Niwa."
Saint Tanuki pressed her back to the cool concrete wall of the corridor. Her hands lifted to the center of her bosom as if to steady to herself. She trembled as her heart pumped vigorously. He had denied the invitation. Of course, he'd done so in his own arrogant way, making it seem like she had won the privilege of taking him out and Komachi was just out of luck. He would.
"Oh," Komachi trailed off, crumpling the fragile material of the tickets in her hand before spitefully slipping them back into her pocket. "I just hope she doesn't flake or cancel for some reason."
"What was that? I didn't hear you because I was reading my book," Kakashi replied. Novel in hand, he leaned against the stadium wall in his usual nonchalant demeanor. He barely lifted his gaze from the text.
"Well, since you don't like to listen to me, I wonder if I should even tell you who Tanuki is," she said coolly. Her uninterested casual tone reflected Kakashi's, proving she had been injured that he neglected her only moments ago.
"What?" Kakashi asked. He was genuinely stunned this time and had managed to lift his gaze from the pages of his adult novel completely. The hand that held the book slowly drifted down to dangle at his side.
Saint Tanuki repressed a gasp as silencing hands touched at her mouth. She could hardly believe what she'd heard. Would her secret be revealed?
Once liberated, the secret would surely ruin whatever friendship or relationship she had with Kakashi. Even if it didn't come to that, she would still never be able to face the jounin again. She would be labeled a criminal and potentially put under the custody of Hozuki Castle with the rest of the lawbreakers.
There was nothing she could do now. All she could do was stare at the mess she had made.
"No," Kakashi said in a stern voice, one that commanded obedience.
"Don't you want to know?" Komachi asked, startled by his sudden harshness.
"I don't want to know. I don't need to. I just have to catch her," he replied in the same unyielding tone of voice. Naomi even appeared startled by the turn the conversation had taken.
"Good evening," Saint Tanuki's voice beckoned them.
Three heads tilted upward in the direction of the voice. Floating in a collection of bubbles, she seemed to be smiling. She deftly signed and initiated a jutsu that only targeted Komachi and Naomi, carrying them into the air as if by magic. The two young women levitated up to the night sky, just a few yards lower than Saint Tanuki. Both struggled against the jutsu but to no avail.
"Do something!" Komachi commanded the jounin below her. The girl floating beside her shrieked several times and grew louder when the book she guarded lifted from her hold, trailing up to nimble hands of Saint Tanuki.
"I'm afraid it's out of my hands," mused Kakashi, "I don't see her." He was once again buried within the depths of his novel with no hope of giving his attention elsewhere. Saint Tanuki laughed. Perhaps he had stubbornly ignored Komachi out of spite, to annoy her, but perhaps part of it had been to help her out.
"Get your nose out of your book," Komachi demanded, but he still ignored her.
"That's enough levitating for one evening," Saint Tanuki smiled. From her waist pouch she removed a familiar senbon. Its presence caused for Komachi's eyes to widen, startled by the recognition. The needle had been one of her own and the thief had taken it likely to analyze the drug in order to develop immunity to it or an antidote. She also wanted Komachi to be aware she had done so as if she was accepting the unspoken challenge she had initiated.
"Clever girl," Komachi murmured as Saint Tanuki embedded the needle into her own bubble, causing it to burst with great force. A rush of entrapped air being released pushed aggressively towards the two young women like countless invisible hands, breaking the levitation jutsu.
The women plummeted toward the hard surface of the ground, but Kakashi didn't bother to move. He knew that Saint Tanuki may have been a thief, but she was by no means violent. As expected, she signed again and a pile of soft white feathers gathered below, materializing from nothing. The falls were broken, but the brush with death had been enough to make the women dizzy and unable to move. They were disoriented from their buzzing minds.
Finally lifting his gaze, he glanced at Saint Tanuki as she proudly held the first edition Icha Icha Paradise novel in her small hands. "I'll be giving this back to Nakamura-sama," she said and then turned her attention to Naomi. "You may be a big fan of him, but it was wrong of you to steal his good luck charm. I hope that you've learned your lesson."
"You stole Nakamura's book?" Kakashi turned to the girl. Her face was covered by her hands as she cried, apologizing over and over in a strained voice.
"I'll never do anything like that again," she cried hoarsely, "I promise!"
To Komachi, Saint Tanuki gave a slight wave of her hand. Two tickets flashed between her fingertips. "I'll be taking these back as well."
"Get her," Komachi croaked, but Kakashi pretended to return his attention devotedly back to his book. He did sneak a glance at the thief, however.
Their gazes locked briefly. To an onlooker the moment was ephemeral, but to them it spoke eternity. He seemed almost cheerful to give her this rare favor. His visible eye crinkled like a half moon, suggesting there was a smile beneath the mask. Her own lips curved upward in response.
He gave a subtle nod to urge her to continue with her escape. She wondered what had been the reasoning for such resolve. Perhaps he was doing so on a whim to punish Komachi for her behavior or even Naomi for stealing. Nonetheless, it was a generous notion, and one she wouldn't forget.
The shadowed mask over her eyes hinted flecks of a dazzling blue as she stared back at him, partly in astonishment and partly out of appreciation. From smoldering ash into a burn, the sapphires danced like blue fire. Then the flames dimmed under the soft smoke of her mask as she gave a little wave before disappearing into the night.
-Icha Icha Paradise: The Musical, Opening Night-
It was evident that he was very much enjoying himself by the way he intently watched the musical, even going so far as to unsheathe his Sharingan. The copy wheel seemed to jovially spin as it memorized every movement. He was savoring this moment.
"It's so faithful to the book," he commented during the intermission. "The score reflects the deeper meaning of Jiraiya's words and the emotions of the characters."
She couldn't help herself but to smile. He was unusually talkative for someone who rarely revealed his true thoughts. It was extraordinary to see him like this, so deeply enjoying himself that he could hardly disguise his pleasure. She had to admit that she was enjoying her time there as well, despite the fact that she wasn't an Icha Icha fan. It really did almost feel like a date…
Her face flushed at the mere thought.
"Are you blushing?" he asked, eye narrowed to observe the peculiar fashion in which she was currently behaving. His sudden attention startled her and caused her face to grow hotter.
"I'm just warm," she replied. He seemed ready to challenge this, but the lights of the theater dimmed, notifying the audience that the intermission was over. She looked away briefly, not wanting to catch a glimpse of his melting gaze. Her hands wrapped around the cap of a bottle, unfastening it so that she could take several small soothing sips of water.
Sneaking a furtive glance at him, her heart roared inside her, and she smiled.
