NUMBER 16: purple
The kimono Tenten was wearing was deep purple and flowed to the floor to gather in graceful pools there. Her long brown hair had been tortured into one of the intricate styles of the full-fledged geisha, and makeup had been meticulously applied to pretty but average features. Upon looking into the floor-length mirror, she grinned at the borrowed beauty reflected back at her.
It was one of the less common missions a female had to endure; a mission where a touch of sex appeal was necessary but the type where grace and charm were paramount. Her mission was to disguise herself as a quite well-known geisha and to commit a very public, loud, and messy murder. In doing so, she would figuratively kill two birds with one stone. The geisha, who was actually a missing ninja quite skilled in the arts of poison and disliked by most of the town, would be put under the death sentence and searched by hunter-nin. The man who she would murder, a rich lord who raped several women but was never convicted, would be dead, obviously.
Tenten groaned quietly as she applied the makeup she would need. As easy as the mission had seemed at first glance, she herself knew that there were risks. The real geisha, Sukiko, could show up and blow her cover. Sure, Tsunade had caused her to be sent to a man several miles away, but it was a gamble, like everything else Tsunade did. The rapist, a man called Hikaru, could attack back and prove more of a challenge than suspected, even if she took him by surprise. Also, even if the main plan went well, there was a tiny chance Sukiko wouldn't be acquitted of the murder.
However, Tenten had taken extra steps to ensure that Sukiko wouldn't slip away. The white gloves that particular geisha was so well known for were on her fingers, her hair was so affixed with potions and jutsus and sprays that not a single strand would fall and betray her identity, and her clothing was a piece from Sukiko's own wardrobe. She had dimmed her chakra signature so it looked less like a ninja's, and every other possible care had be taken. A truly exhausting process had been underwent by the kunoichi.
"And chances are it'll still mess up," the brunette grumbled as she cast one more look into the mirror. As much as she looked the spitting image of Sukiko, that didn't change the success prediction of the mission with all aspects executed flawlessly; there was a measly 27% chance she'd have complete success. Damn it all, she thought, she aimed for perfection. And perfection she would have.
A few hours later, she was finishing up pouring Hikaru's fourth saucer of sake, her movements fluid, graceful, and somewhat alluring. Music was being played by another one of the women, who constantly stole glances at Hikaru as if she expected he would hurt her in the open. No, for a dirty, despicable scrap of humanity, he was at least wise enough not to employ such tactics.
Instead, he settled for flirting heavily with her. Once or twice his movements were inappropriate, but Tenten, acting only as Sukiko would, had to allow him to touch her. A bad taste lingered in her mouth; no respectable geisha would allow herself to be touched so by a client, but in Tenten's research, she'd gathered that Sukiko thrived in the attention the male clients paid to her. It took all of Tenten's willpower not to sneer in distaste.
The kunoichi continued to pour saucers of sake at such a rate that it took only a few more minutes for Hikaru to rise, smile genially to his guests and the other geisha, and politely excuse himself, asking Tenten to accompany him to the restroom. He was a bit tipsy, so she steadied him with her hand on his arm. Inside of her head, she was calculating. She'd discovered that one of the maids always walked this hallway at the same time. Before long, she'd come along. She, Tenten decided, would have to see her killing Hikaru. If he yelled, all the better; more witnesses meant less of a chance for the real Sukiko.
A door began to slide open, and Tenten grabbed the long, sharp, tanto–a prettily decorated thing that was exactly in the style of a geisha–and held it at the ready. At the last moment, she sprang forward. Hikaru yelled as Tenten clung to his back, and he swatted at her. Footsteps came quickly, guests probably running to see what was happening. The maid stood in the doorway, watching with an incredulous look on her face as Tenten sliced through Hikaru's throat.
His body fell onto the tatami mats, and she plunged the knife into his heart, just to make sure. Blood drained and the man writhed as the guests came to the door and watched, horror-struck. A woman's shriek, and the other geisha fainted. For everyone else, time was probably moving in slow motion, but for Tenten, nothing had changed. It was just a few more drops of blood on her conscience, a ruined kimono, and a couple of tatami mats that would need to be replaced.
One, two, three seconds. Enough time had gone by for each person to witness and fully comprehend what they thought they saw. Without further ado, Tenten began at a dead sprint out of the house, going by one of the less-used paths to a hidden door. All was silent behind her for a few moments, and then she heard rapid footsteps as someone ran after her. She chuckled darkly; let them try chasing her. She raced against Rock Lee.
Once she was far enough away, she found a small lake and washed her face, destroying all traces of the makeup. A few simple jutsus and a couple of hair ties got her brown locks into their customary buns, and she pulled her spare set of clothes out of her obi and destroyed the ruined kimono with a fire jutsu. It was a pity; the garment was lovely. Then she made her way home.
A little less than a week later, Tsunade summoned her to her office. When she came in, her idol was glancing at a newspaper. "A well-known geisha, Sukiko, was convicted of the murder of Ito Hikaru and executed yesterday," Tsunade informed the younger kunoichi. "What do you take of that news, Tenten?"
"The girl was incredibly foolish to attack such a well-known lord where people could see her, don't you think, Tsunade-sama?"
The long, sharp, tanto–a prettily decorated thing that was exactly in the style of a geisha–is tucked into her pants for training later today.