Orientation Day
When Mortola spotted Miria it did not take her two seconds to throw her into the kitchen for her daily duties. The feat at hand was lunch. Maids whizzed past, plates clanked, wooden spoons knocked against each other. The gossip brought back from the grounds when the maids rendezvoused with the men travelled from lips to ears, normally she was amused by none of it. Too much would be going through her mind for her to bother about who kissed who and who confessed his love to who. All those things were secondary and not her business to care for.
This morning was different though, her ears were eager to pick up a few things that she cared for very much indeed … A few things only the maids who had black-jacketed husbands or lovers would come to know and then spread the news to the womanly brigade that was busy on all chores imaginable. Zabuza had only been here a day, or technically less than 24 hours, and he had already murdered a man. Miria could not blame him, according to the story, the man was ordered to kill him and Zabuza … very elaborately evaded the shot of a gun. All the men, as she heard, were morbidly afraid of him. Some feared him more than they feared Capricorn. He was already becoming the figure of unworldly horrors without much effort at all.
Lunch was still underway. Steam ascended from the pots, olive oil sizzled when slices of garlic were effortlessly thrown into it. The sound of knives clattering against wooden boards drowned all efforts of establishing conversation. Capricorn's meal was taken to him and prepared exclusively from the rest. Now it was the men who were, in their own right, slaving away out in the sun and had to be fed. Women all around her rushed to meet the task at hand. Taking advantage of the fact that Mortola was overwhelmed by the amount of work that had to be done, Miria slithered her way to Resa's side, and started working on whatever it was the blonde was busy with. Resa pushed a small piece of paper before Miria and quickly retreated it to her palm. Miria's grey eyes had already registered the few words scribbled on it.
I hear he's a monster. Everyone fears him; men and woman alike.
Miria looked at her friend with a smug expression and let out a huff,
"You think?" she whispered. It was only then, as Miria picked up a chopping board and knife, that Resa spotted a few splatters of red on her dress. Instantly she was alarmed. Her hands let go of everything she held, but Miria shook her head quickly,
"Don't worry," She looked at her friend with a frown, then back to search for Mortola. "Not now, I'll tell you all about it later."
Resa's eyes held many, many questions. Unfortunately, her means of communication was not a very subtle one and if the work was interrupted at such a rush hour Mortola would have another excuse to descend upon them with colorful punishment.
She nodded, and both woman returned to work quickly, yet silently.
Miria was still reeling from the idea that she may have been killed that very morning. As she stirred pots and threw pans around the only thing she thought of was the massive blade as it flew towards her. Had it collided with her it would have opened her body and left it with a huge gaping hole, and her eyes would have be rendered dull and lifeless. Hadn't it been for the man who pushed her away and got injured in her stead …
Whichever way one wanted to go about it, it was a fact clear as day that Basta had pushed her out of harm's way … and ultimately saved her life. Saved her life.
What was she to make of that?! Her knuckles went white as her grip tightened on the handles of a large pot. With the help of towels, lest she burn her hands, she heaved the thing up and set it away from the fire and on the serving trolley. What was she to make of that?! The man saved her life. Before his deed everything was simpler. Yes, she enjoyed protection from harassment because his eyes were on her. Yes, she enjoyed little acts of mischief he allowed her to pull off in his presence. Yes, she enjoyed a form of trust no maid has ever been entitled to and yes, she enjoyed little privileges one reaped from trying to be close to someone who has never had anyone come close to them before … Yes, she had acknowledged all that and yes, for the reason of him having kidnapped her she ignored every one of those things he had given her … But now …
Now she fought with her conscience that refused to ignore the fact that his first instinct had been to push her to safety …
When faced with a large lump of sharpened steel flying straight to you one's first instincts are run to safety. Forget everyone and everything and run to safety. Miria only expected that much from a black jacket that was used to committing murder and theft and cruelties on his master's behalf. Yet Basta's first move was to extend an open palm and thrust away, then leap for safety,
She kept glancing in Resa's direction. The need to tell her what had happened was unbearable. Would she ever believe her? Well … she couldn't expect any less from Resa; her friend had always believed her. But what would her reaction be when she finds out that Basta … The Basta had saved her life? Miria was itching to tell her …
Oh and yes, she narrowed her eyes vehemently as she picked up a knife and stabbed into a poor, sinless potato. She had much to discuss with the slippery fire-eater as well.
After his meeting with Capricorn, Zabuza left to find Basta who had the wonderful task of showing him around the village. Across the afternoon Zabuza seemed very bored and completely unimpressed with what he saw. Especially when it came to the maids, Zabuza simply scoffed and cut that tour short.
The man named Capricorn was a mystery, and what he aspired for was an even bigger mystery. The demon found himself at a loss. Why hire him to work for him as a henchmen, if all that entitled was scaring locals and collecting money, occasionally girls from them?
Oh f*** you Capricorn.
"Are we done?" He drawled to his sullen, black haired companion. Basta turned with eyes narrowed till they were no more than slits.
"I'm not really enjoying this any more than you are." He hissed, between gritted teeth.
"Well then let's agree to a hush-hush between you and me and end this misery." Zabuza scoffed back at him, hands pocketed nonchalantly. Basta on the other hand glared,
"I think you fail to understand." He started, panting furiously. He jabbed a finger to the direction of the ground. Zabuza stared at him with a dull expression as he went on in his rant. "This is Capricorn's land. Capricorn's orders are to be followed. That's why you were hired was it not?!" Zabuza smirked, "Yes … I was hired. Hired people are not always keen to please the masters as their little puppy dogs are."
Basta's eyes flared with anger, which seemed to be a source of amusement to the larger, taller tan man. He chuckled deep in his throat, then emitted a soft sigh. "I will go on my own exploratory round thank you. You can go and lick your wounds in some corner-"
That was it; that was the last straw.
Basta's knife swung at Zabuza's face who pulled back leisurely, seemingly not surprised by the sudden attempt to cut off his nose. He continued casually, while men stopped eyes wide and horrified, all anticipating that Basta would be halved before their very eyes. "-over there like a good doggy."
Basta himself was still with dread and morbid surprise at his own hand that flung his precious knife at the strange man's bandaged face. He was quivering in his place but he dared not move, wondering if his own knife would now be used to slit his own throat like the idiot who was shot by his own gun.
Nothing happened.
Zabuza simply walked off with a shrug and mildly friendly, most certainly mocking wave. One could even say some men's shoulders slumped with disappointed, until Basta glared daggers at them and they 'returned' back to their duties. A dead Basta would've been such celebratory news … to some.
He was left alone, staring at the large back of the figure who walked off and disappeared into one of the narrower streets. Then his eyes slowly looked down and stared at his hand, still holding the knife. His knife. His precious knife that scared so many before. The knife that instilled fear in people's hearts, gained him authority and power, now useless. What was a knife to a large head-cleaving blade like that monster now carried around? What fear could he reap to gain power and a little control and perhaps a shred of respect? His knife was rendered harmless, a useless little piece of junk …
Just like him.
He threw away it in his frustration, and it thudded dangerously close to a man's head who did not waste time whimpering away.
This was one incredible empire … in more laughable ways than one. A hmph, in the form of a scoff, left his bandaged lips as he walked through the streets of what had been once an inhabited town, as Basta graciously explained to him. There used to be people here once, bakers baked and coffee shops housed customers lazily looking out the window, children running here and there. It could've been a nice little village, an escape from the big cities every now and then. Zabuza turned to his right, through a narrow alleyway, recalling how Basta told him this village became what it was now.
Did such men still exist? The likes of Capricorn? Who just pointed a pale, dead-looking finger at something they would like to possess and an army of less intelligent, strongly built men would go and grab it for them? Wasn't that the stuff of fiction? Or the long lost past? It was beyond him really … Even in the ninja world, self-proclaimed tyrants do not just takeover villages and make them into an empire of slavery and be let be because of fear. It made no sense … Yet again, if his men were not intelligent then one cannot say the same for Capricorn. He chose a village so high up in the hills and fields, so far away from any real authority and preyed on the fears of the innocent to keep it standing.
If he himself was, though, Zabuza thought to himself, a man of authority in this country, he would not turn a blind eye to many burnings and kidnappings with an obvious culprit. If he hadn't power he would demand it from his higher ups, but to let such a being do as he please for that long was unforgivable, had he the required set of morals …
His face twisted in mild disgust, this was all too reminiscent of Gato.
If Gato had this sort of power than Zabuza could definitely imagine a village filled with his own thug army and slave empire of women. Speaking of which that was one aspect of this village he could not even stomach …
Kidnap women and girls to have them do century old chores for a bunch of filthy, backward men?! What kind of blasphemy is that?! Gender-roles seemed to be overemphasized in this village and it disgusted him. Was it because he came from a place where women rose to become kages? Where men dreamed of hand-made bentos and winning fair maiden's heart fair and square? Heh … he had had one before … a 'fair maiden' if one could call a kunoichi that. But he was 17, and being proud ninja neither he nor she admitted it.
Two years later she died.
It was funny how annoyed he was at everything here. If one saw him now one would think he was a pious, moral gentleman, and he wasn't. He knew he wasn't. He was still the murderous, blood spilling amoral ninja. Just a blood-spilling amoral ninja with some standards.
He found himself in a small deserted square with a large, old tree in the very center of it. The windows of the buildings all around were dusty and cracked, dark and quite ominous. A single swing hung from one of the branches, stopping a good way above the ground. A single swing … Zabuza sighed. Children eh?
Children were not so better off in the ninja world, not in his days anyway. His world was harsh, built and maintained by and for adults. Children found it hard to survive. But that was twenty years ago, when he was a child himself, and Kiri was the harshest of villages those days. Now things changed. They were much better. Not perfect … but much much better.
This village was situated amongst beautiful hills and forests, but all he saw was destruction and emptiness. That was because he was traversing the grounds … He looked up at the roofs of the buildings …
Why not?
Miria and Resa were left to clean up the kitchen, after the lunch service was over. A handful of maids had to be taken to the church to clean it up, some stayed back, and some had other chores to do. Mortola had some job, Miria didn't care what it was, but she was thankful she was gone. Now Resa took the opportunity to scribble as many questions as she possibly can, starting with the blood on Miria's dress.
Miria smoothed her dress, a thumb ran over the dried blood droplets. "It's not mine." She sighed. Resa blinked in confusion, and Miria dunked yet another pot in soapy water.
"It's Basta's."
There was a heavy silence, and it had nothing to do with Resa's inability to speak. Again the tip of the pencil scratched against paper, rapidly. Miria took one look at the question before she sighed again.
What happened?
"Capricorn … failed to specify to our new friend when he was expected in the morning." Resa's eyes grew wider, and wider with every word. Miria just scoffed, "And our new friend was angry when he was awoken from his slumber."
This time Resa did not have to write her next question, Miria knew what it was going to be and answered it with a shrug, as if it meant nothing to her.
"He threw his sword at us."
Poor Resa, her mouth fell open in shock. Her friend almost got killed that very morning. It took her a few seconds before she could move again. Weak fingers reached for the pencil, but dropped it as soon as they picked it up, and she threw herself against Miria, wrapping her in a tight hug. Miria did not really know how to receive this sudden gesture. She knew why it happened, she knew what it was for, but she was still … shocked at the whole affair. As if the person who experienced that morning and herself were two different people. She returned it slowly after a while, then pulled back before anyone accused them of slacking.
Are you ok?!
Miria chuckled softly, shaking her head. "Do I look like I am not? I am in one piece Resa. That is more than I can ask for with a sword that size being thrown at me." She knew Resa hadn't seen it in person, but the rumors gave her a good idea of the size of that thing. The man himself did not show during lunch, who knows where he could've been. Mortola was angry, barking at any who might've seen him. "Tell that hulk of muscle he gets his meals like everyone else! If he ain't here his stomach will be left empty!" She had screeched.
He threw a sword at you just for waking him up?! What a monster!
Miria giggled at that, but Resa did not see what was so funny. Especially with the evidence of the encounter still on the skirt of her dress. "Resa my darling, in his world it is not illegal to use arms, much less carry them."
But he was going to kill you!
Miria stared at the word 'kill' for more seconds than usual. Then she turned away, scrubbing with a severe frown. "Oh yea … he was going to kill us." She murmured very softly.
At that moment someone stepped into the kitchen behind them. Resa whirled around first, but sighed with relief at his sight. Hell she even smiled a small tired smile. Dustfinger. She turned to her pencil and paper, etching something quickly. Miria looked at it once, before turning, and scoffed, motioning to Resa to stop. "Oh he doesn't need to know. He was there."
Resa looked up between Dustfinger and Miria. So he knew! She turned again, to write something else, but stopped abruptly. Her eyes caught a fearsome glare directed at a slightly frowning Dustfinger … The other redhead paid no heed, she was a woman of opportunities. Mortola was absent, so she will do as she liked. She dried her hands into her apron and stomped to the fire-eater.
Crack.
Came of the sound of her hand as it swung against his scarred cheek. His cheek went instantly red, and his eyes only very slightly wide.
"Listen you." She started, chest puffed up with anger. Resa was dumbfounded, the pencil fell from her fingers, clattered and rolled away on the dirty kitchen floor. "I don't care what Basta did to you in the past. I don't care what he does to you now. I don't care about all his crimes hell even what he did to me. For that I will get back at him in my own time. But today morning,"
She took a step back, before she slapped him again in her anger.
"He saved my life." She hissed, "So when I ask you to help me, you help me. His wound is not going to be on my conscience. I don't want debts, least of all to a man like him. If he bled to death saving my life all of his past wouldn't have mattered. The end would still have been what it was, and I am woman who cannot live with that."
Dustfinger was speechless, Resa was shocked beyond belief, and Miria was, simply speaking, seething. She held up the soiled part of her dress. "This is his blood on my dress." She huffed, "and I ain't from your world, or any other magical world. I am from this one. I have standards that don't change depending on how much I love or hate someone. If you find another opportunity to murder the man, then by all means go ahead! But do not do it on my conscience."
"But-"
She held a hand, silencing him. "If a black jacket dies I could care less. However, I do not want one to die 'saving' my life. And rest assured," She smirked sardonically, "It won't happen if it ain't Basta."
Miria inhaled deeply, and exhaled slowly. There … it was off her chest finally. She rubbed her eyes together. Good God what was she doing … She turned back to resume her work at the sink, when she stopped, her eyes caught something at the window. Resa held her shoulder, to calm the effects of that morning on her friend. Miria did not move, her mouth slowly forming an 'O'. Resa stared at her, then turned to the window and she too stood in complete surprise. The man staring at them mirrored Miria's exact expression.
Basta.
What time of the day was it? It was a little after lunch, just as Basta trudged out of the church, that he spotted the demon again. He had returned from his little exploration trip then huh? Zabuza walked leisurely past him, up the steps and into the large building. Not five minutes later Basta heard extremely frustrated screeching.
"Where were you?! Do you think you can waltz around as you please?!"
There was silence. Probably he was speaking, then there was a shrill squeak again. "You may be the new favorite! But that doesn't mean you don't follow the rules!" Basta considered his options. On one hand he hated the man with a passion, on another could he afford to pass up the opportunity of seeing Mortola humiliated?
Hmmmm … no. He needed a lift in spirits, and this will do just that.
He walked back up the steps and into shade of the church's roof, the 'conversation' becoming more and more apparent to him. Zabuza was standing, hands in his pockets, staring at the old woman bark and shriek in her disgustingly shrill voice with mild amusement. The old woman kept at it though, intending to establish her authority over the figure towering above her. It was such a comic scene. Basta leaned against one of the many rows of seats and stared at the occurrence, while maids fled and other men made themselves scarce, except for a brave few.
"Food is served when I decide to serve it! You don't come in time you don't get any!"
Basta raised an eyebrow, he was waiting for another drastically horrifying experience from the man, this time not to befall him but his old, boney nemesis. Zabuza though, did nothing. He turned in the middle of the bickering and walked back towards the door. "I am still speaking! Where do you think you are going?!"
Zabuza stopped and turned to her, and answered very simply, "The kitchen."
The magpie's eyes bulged, Basta's eyebrows sky-rocketed. "You are not allowed there!" She shrieked, but he was already on his way.
"Why not? I'll just take some ingredients and tools and cook myself." He replied calmly, unawares that this feat he was attempting was attempted by none before him.
No black-jacket was allowed to near the women when they were at work. Of course, many secret meetings occurred all throughout the day, and even Mortola knew that. But none had ever blatantly stepped all over her authority before. If anything it made her shrieks even more unbearable. Going on and on but he ignored her and she was forced to follow helplessly, screaming empty threats. Basta stood motionless for a minute. To the kitchen? What if he almost murders someone there? What if he decides to take a maid to cook for him? What if … ?!
He walked out quickly, he had to warn her.
He couldn't have been more surprise, having heard the entire outburst. She did say some insulting things, and other annoying things, and even entertained the idea of Dirtyfingers killing him! And she did not exactly speak out of love for him but it still left him dumbfounded. No one has ever spoken on behalf like that before … even though it wasn't exactly perfect. He blinked stupidly at her, and she him, while Resa glared and Dustfinger stared silently, somewhat ashamed that Basta of all people should see him slapped, for his sake too.
For a minute Basta forgot what he was here for. Miria was the first to snap.
"What the hell are you here for?!"
She turned away quickly, but not before he caught a hint of red on her cheeks. Heh … she was blushing?! Probably hot from embarrassment. It made him grin smugly. "I saved your life didn't I?" He huffed, chest puffed up like a peacock.
He was just depressed this morning! Why did he get better so quickly?! She turned, glaring with her pretty grey eyes, "And I repaid you didn't I?! We're even!"
Oh Basta didn't know about even. He continued to grin, leaning against the barred window. "I saved your life … and you acknowledge it. " He sighed dreamily. Miria was threw him with a ladle, which hit the bars before it reached him and clattered down to the ground. "Go away!"
The dark haired black-jacket scowled. "No. Aren't you in the least interested why I am here?" He scoffed. She scoffed back, "No, get the hell away from here." Basta's lips twitched with annoyance. He was just feeling a bit better and she had to ruin it. "Stupid maid," he hissed, rolling his eyes. "He's coming."
Miria stopped what she was doing, casting him a side glance. He is coming …? Resa's eyes flitted in alarm, between Miria, Basta and Dustfinger. Dustfinger frowned dangerously, "Why?!" He demanded.
A deep, low voice answered him from behind, "Because … "
Resa looked up, and her breath caught in her throat, staring at the big man that managed to dwarf them all. This was him … She finally saw him at last, but at a much closer proximity than she would've ever liked to. He was a beast. Already a legend, as if Capricorn had read himself a great, large fanged tiger, or a wild, majestic bloodthirsty lion and amused himself by letting it roam around the grounds without a leash. Everyone spoke of him, gossip inflated the stories around him, but very little met him, and even fewer still actually wanted to. And just like a lion, Resa would've appreciated if bars sprung from the ground and kept him at a distance from her.
He stared at her knew face for a second, then his eyes travelled around the room. Miria frowned at him dangerously, but kept silent, while he took two steps into the kitchen, passing Dustfinger. The fire-eater stayed rooted in his spot, not knowing what to expect. Basta glared at him with unmasked hate from the window.
"I need a few things."
Thanks to whoever is still reading this. So much has come up the last year, and I am finally able to write again. I still have in mind to finish this. No character is owned by me but Miria, as of now. More OCs probably to come but it still a little early. I am hoping to update soon, thanks again for anyone who has taken the time to read this!
