Capricious (adj.):

Given to sudden and unaccountable changes of mood or behavior.


What the Hell! Where are Senji and Yua! Why even have a lookout if they aren't going to do their job!

Without my eyes I could still comprehend my surroundings, but only to a certain extent. I began feeling around my environment. Extending my chakra almost like tongues, I felt around, trying to make sense of this. There was only one person here to hurt me.

Curling my core tightly -with perfect muscle control, might I add, thank you Ayumi- I wound up and kicked the assailant with all my strength in one flowing movement. I felt their lower ribs encase my foot as it impacted their gut. Yuck. My attacker turned their wrist the moment my foot thrust into their abdomen and grabbed my ankle, forcing my body to just hang at their whim.

And now my body was dangling over open air.

Dropping and falling like a rag doll jarred my neck. The impact dulled my senses momentarily as I blinked from beneath the darkness of my blindfold. I felt like a teddy bear being held by one leg by a sadistic little kid.

Maybe my attack was pointless, but now they weren't able to hold that kunai to my throat. Rule number 1: get yourself out of the most fatal situation even at the risk of losing less important appendages. My right leg was this fight's casualty since it currently felt like it was being pulled from its socket.

My scarf and t-shirt fell over my face like a babushka, I grabbed at the fabric to cover my bound up chest as well as I could. There was nothing preventing me from speaking, so, being the idiot I am, I snapped, "Who the fuck do you think you are!"

Of course, I got no response, not that I was really expecting one. I was just frustrated and needed to let it out verbally like I always did. I prayed they wouldn't just drop me right now. That would really, truly suck. I could definitely survive the fall, but I narrowly survived therapy for my hands. I did not want to repeat that kind of misery with my ankles. Anko would destroy me.

I flailed like an unsuspecting fish on a hook being hoisted out of the water by a meager fishing line. Thrashing and twisting about, I tried grabbing at the assailant but failed miserably. They twisted my ankle, slowly twirling me around like a flower between their fingers. It was dizzying. Their iron grip left me unmoving as their captive.

In a frustratingly quiet manner, the individual placed me back on the tree branch, quickly taking control of my arms before I could throw the kunai between my knuckles. Calloused hands manipulated the knives from my grip. If they just killed me now I'd be better off. I was not going to be the person who failed the simplest melon mission just because some jerk wanted to screw things up. That would be completely ridiculous.

Heavy cloth draped over me as their body crouched over mine, trapping my ankles with their knees. Warm air from their breaths puffed gently against my lips. My heart sped up rapidly. Now it was time to panic.

My eyes were still useless; something was tied tightly around my head. I threw it around, trying to shake my blindfold free.

Then something weird happened. One at a time, the person picked up my hands and brought them close to their face. Close enough that I could feel their warm breath passing their lips. I could feel the heat of their skin radiating to my wrists. My fingers twitched nervously.

I reached out with my fingertips when they picked up my left hand. My index finger brushed against a nose, then the soft spot under their eye. The twitch of eyelashes fluttered against my skin. Before I could tear out their eyeballs with my nails, they pinned my hand next to my head and took up the other, twisting and turning and bending it at will like a kitten would play with a piece of string.

My wrists were healed up completely; only scars remained from where the metatarsals once stuck out of my skin.

They brought my hand closer to their face, examining the damage, I imagined. Perhaps trying to figure out how I got them, or if they would cause me pain. The scars were pretty interesting to look at, I thought, but not interesting enough to kidnap a Konoha shinobi and want to face the consequences.

The scars told the exact story. One deep colorless dimple left by each of his fingertips.

Normally, I wrapped them so no one could see my weakened hands, but I was stupid and assumed nothing would go wrong during a silly melon caravan mission. Last time I'd ever make that mistake.

Their intent concern with my distorted appendages was beginning to get on my nerves. Tightening my lips I snarled, "They don't hurt, you know."

Ignoring me completely, they continued turning my hands one at a time. In an almost delicate way, they pressed a fingertip into one of the deep, scarred divots. Almost immeasurably, their emotions shifted into something dark. My chest tightened, the apprehension was choking. They brought my hand so close that I could feel their breath heating my skin again.

Lips touched one of the scars on my wrist, repeating the same action four more times for each dimple. My mouth went dry. What the Hell is going on?

They mimicked this bizarre behavior with one hand then the other, finally gently pinning them both above my head with one of their own larger hands, leaning over me, adjusting their weight so they were balanced on my knees to prevent my escape.

Hovering only slightly above my face, for a split second I thought they were going to kiss me. They shifted their weight forword a little. I struggled to get away. To them I must have looked like a mouse with its tail caught in a trap.

As they moved closer, I pinned the side of my face to the tree, pressing the abrasive surface into the soft curve of my cheek. Using one hand, they squeezed my wrists to the point of pain. Swallowing hard I considered my chances of coming out of this unscathed.

Okay. So I'm in a tree, some unknown distance above the ground. Leaping away and hoping for the best would be a bad idea. But, I needed to get out. All of my limbs were compromised. Without my fingers I couldn't manipulate their pressure points. All of my training with capoeira training seemed useless in this situation. My abdomen was the only body part that my kidnapper didn't pay attention to, but that wasn't helpful. There was nothing I could do now. I'd have to wait until their body shifted again so I could pirouette out of their hold by pushing through the weakness of their knees or the area above their hip. Behind the knee was an important point in the body, if twisted the right way, you could force your way out of a very bad situation by catching hold of their legs with one of your own.

His unoccupied hand forced my face forword painfully, pressing his fingers into the side of my cheek as I strained to keep myself still. Screaming vertebrae in my cervical spine warned me to follow the enemy's lead to forgo paralysis. My heart hammered in my chest.

Achingly slow, their finger grazed over the roughed up skin on the side of my face, sending a stinging sensation down my neck. I flinched away from the pain. Their touch lightened somewhat, but continued easing nearer. My opportunity to escape was getting closer. I could feel their breath on my lips. My face tightened with anticipation. Ugh, I'm such an idiot. Never show weakness!

In my head I thought he was about to do something truly awful to me. It would start with a kiss, then end with my body irreparably damaged in ways I could never fix. This was my greatest fear on assassinations with Ayumi. I'd gotten myself out of far more suggestive situations in the past, but not entirely unscathed. Goosebumps trailed up and down my arms and my stomach turned to iron ore at the memories.

Hovering mere millimeters away from my lips, their head bowed, pressing their brow to mine tenderly. They slid a hand behind my neck to hold the familiar pose.

My heart stilled.

A cold, hard ball of emotion made itself home in my throat, but I wouldn't cry. I spilled enough tears for him. I was in the grips of an Akatsuki member. A killer.

It was odd. I couldn't help remembering the last time he pressed his forehead to mine so gently. That was the day he ruined my life. All of the memories from the past five years trickled through the crevices in my brain, feeding my fury. Every time I had to rebreak my hands, every time I had to kill someone. It would be illogical to let this happen. Once upon a time in fairytale land, he was worth my heartache. Not anymore. I was too strong to let him tear me down again.

His skin pressed ever so gently to mine was beginning to rehatch a long dead emotion within my heart. So, I did the least logical thing. I attacked.