Hello Readers :)
Is anyone still reading this? Sorry this was an exceptionally long delay this time. Life has been unbelievable chaotic lately, what with exams, graduation and moving (just to name a few things). Unfortunately I've smacked into some pretty heavy writers block with this story so I apologise profusely for making you all wait so long for such a lame chapter. If I could I'd hand out cookies to help ease the disappointment.
I was walking down the main hallway in my meager little apartment, a rather routine action, but there was something off about it. The normal, worn wood flooring and pale, slightly scuffed walls had strangely been painted black and red in a completely disorganized splashing of colour. It was as though who ever had the inspiration to paint had just said fuck brushes and just randomly threw paint at any available surface. That was odd. Considering the amount of rent I had to pay for this stupid place you'd think they'd have been a bit more professional. Admittedly I was a little jealous that I had missed out on the sporadic painting spree. Although it was an absolute mess it did look like it had been a lot of fun. Why black and red though? Did the landlord come across some free excess paint somewhere? If that were the case wouldn't he have painted the place that creepy asylum green or battleship grey? Those were the typical colours that excess free paint tended to come in right? Maybe the landlord was just trying to encourage vampires to move in or something.
As I continued walking down the surprisingly long hallway I bumped into a girl with curly, brown hair and mischievous hazel eyes wearing a bright, purple sundress decorated with little white flowers. She skipped happily towards me a wide, jubilant smile on her pudgy little face.
The hell…?
This was definitely weird. Who was this girl? Had I accidentally walked into someone else's home? Staring in confusion at the bouncing, energetic little girl, completely at a loss for what she was even doing in my apartment, recognition kicked in like a rubber-band snapping in my brain. It was Michelle Palmer, a girl I hadn't seen since the fifth grade. That only made her appearance and apparent lack of aging all the more bizarre.
"Michelle?" I questioned in puzzlement. "What are you doing in here?"
The little girl that I knew as Michelle clasped her hands behind her back and began rocking on the balls of her feet, the wide goofy grin on her face stretching even wider. "I live here…duh," she playfully answered sticking her tongue out at me childishly.
I knew I had several memory gaps, some as a result of being heavily inebriated on more than one occasion, but I was fairly confident I didn't have a ten-year old girl as a roommate. "Uhh…what the…no…," I incoherently sputtered.
"You're going to be late for work Amanda!" Michelle abruptly shouted.
Turning my head to the left I saw the digital clock on my stove glowing an eerily bright 7:30am. An overwhelming sense of panic followed by a feeling of dread suddenly flared through ever nerve in my body. Crap. It was already 7:30? I had to be at work by 8:00 and I was still in my pajamas apparently. If I got ready in the next three minutes and raced out the door I might just get there in time to be late instead of very late.
Needing to get dressed quickly I raced frantically down the disturbingly long hallway in search of my room. What should have been a simple, well-practiced journey inexplicably morphed into an unending, twisting maze. Knowing that I was rapidly running out of time I began desperately throwing open doors hoping I'd randomly stumble across the one I wanted. Strangely every door I tried either opened into some place completely unexpected, like the super-market, or was filled with people I didn't recognize.
Deciding that the logical thing to do would be to just buy some clothes on my lunch break I dashed for the front door closet in search of my shoes. This time I was able to find the closet easily, but where the heck were my shoes? I quickly searched through the haphazard pile of shoes that seemed to have been carelessly tossed in the closet but could only find un-matching left pairs. What the hell is going on?
Agitation began to swell within me. How was I going to make it to work if I couldn't even find my damn shoes? It wasn't like working in that office was my dream job, but I didn't want to be fired just because I couldn't get there. As the shadowy tendrils of dread began to squeeze at my heart a new plan came bubbling to the surface of my thoughts. I'd just call in sick.
Within moments of forming the idea I heard the sound of feathered wings cutting through the air, the unexpected noise growing louder with every flap. A hoarse, cawing voice echoed through the apartment as a great black crow with glowing red eyes came into view, a rectangular object grasped in its grey claws. As the giant black bird flew over me it released another loud cry before dropping the object into my hands.
As I grasped the item before it could unceremoniously smack me in the face I immediately recognized it as a cellphone and instinctively held it to my ear.
"Amanda where are you baby-girl?" a choked male voice questioned. The sound slightly muffled by someone softly crying.
"I'm just at my apartment." I tried to reply, but my response went unheard as I continued to listen to the familiar voices coming through the phone.
"Do you think she's still alive?"
"I have to believe that she is. The police haven't found a body so there is still hope."
Recognizing the voices as those belonging to my parents I watched in ever mounting confusion as the large, black crow that had brought me the phone slowly began to morph into something that looked like the character Itachi Uchiha from Naruto. Without explanation I suddenly found myself in a weirdly tiled hospital. Oh this cannot bode well. Feeling embarrassed at being out in public in my pajamas I barely noticed the three individuals, dressed from head to toe in white, approaching me. There was something oddly familiar about them. When they were close enough the one in the middle pulled down his surgical mask revealing the stoic face of Gaara.
"We'll have to reschedule the memory scan," he lazily explained with a sigh.
Reschedule the what now? What the heck was he talking about, and why was he dressed in surgeon's clothes? Was Doctor-Gaara part of a new story arch? Wait…why was a cartoon character even talking to me?
"The doctor isn't ready," the single female added. Removing her own mask revealed the unusually stern face of Temari.
More cartoon characters? Perhaps this was a hospital staffed entirely by people who had an uncanny resemblance to characters from Naruto. Although that would admittedly be rather awesome, it still didn't explain my reason for being here.
Unsurprisingly the feisty, blond woman's explanation for the apparent delay did nothing to alleviate my steadily growing confusion. What doctor? I knew could be a bit absent-minded and I was probably in the running for the title of Procrastination Queen but I was pretty confident I didn't have any recent appointments with a doctor, specialist or otherwise.
As I feebly tried to make sense out of what was going on I nearly jumped out of my skin at the sound of a door opening with such force that it smacked against the opposite wall. Wearing a pair of yellow dish gloves a shirtless, blood spattered Kisame leapt into the room. A pair of large, chunky safety goggles covering the majority of his face. In one hand was a cordless power drill in the other was a hacksaw.
"Yes he is!" he shouted with exhilaration, pulling the trigger on the power drill. "Let's do this!"
Oh, I so don't think so. There was absolutely no way I was going to let a psychotic Kisame drill around in my head with an actual drill. How was this crazy man even a physician? As far as I knew the terrifying shark-man didn't even fit under the category of 'mad scientist' much less an actual form of medical doctor. Ignoring the sand sibling's abnormally calm behavior at the crazy doctor's presence I turned to run but found that my legs would no longer work properly. I could see nothing physically wrong but all my movements suddenly felt like I was trying to run through molasses.
"Get back here!" Kisame sternly called.
Panic began to race along my nerves like wildfire as the mad-doctor Kisame started chasing after me with alarming speed, power drill whirling menacingly with every stride.
Damn it all! Come on work legs ...work! I frantically pleaded, desperately willing the muscles to move my adrenaline flooded body forward.
…
My eyes snapped open abruptly as I clumsily jerked myself into a seated position with a panic induced flailing of limbs. Frantically I scanned the surrounding forest desperately searching for any sign of that blue faced psychopath before it finally clicked in my sleep-muddled brain that it had just been a dream, a rather bizarre vivid dream that had rapidly been boarding on a nightmare.
What the hell was that? The giant, blue shark-man was already horrifying enough on his own without having to picture him as some sort of psychotic, back-alley surgeon. As I continued to gain consciousness parts of my peculiar dream began to fade away, forgotten before I could even think what they might have meant, leaving me with a number of nonsensical images and a slightly panicked feeling.
Rapidly blinking eyes still blurry from sleep a grassy clearing surrounded by thick trees, their branches heavy with leaves, slowly came into focus. For a moment I stared blankly at the unkempt blades of grass, my brain still groggy from sleep, unable to fathom a reason to explain the presence of such abundant plant life. Where the heck am I?
Slowly the previous day's events were coming to the forefront of my memory. Immediately I felt a pang of guilt over the two sand shinobi who had been killed by Kisame because of my idiotic, not to mention unnecessary, attempt to stop Itachi. The fact that I had, however briefly, thought that I could somehow convince the Uchiha to stop murdering people had been truly moronic indeed. The irony of it all was that Itachi may not have actually been killing anyone, making my feeble, misguided attempt to stop the raven-haired shinobi utterly useless.
One could argue that my heart was in the right place, but good intentions won't bring back the dead.
If I hadn't been so foolish those two may not have died. It was a cruel twist of fate that they would have to be the ones to pay for my idiocy.
As bad as I felt they were now gone, and no amount of grieving or guilt on my part would bring them back. Watching characters die was a hell of a lot easier to deal with when this was just a cartoon.
Now that the rush of panic fueled adrenaline had subsided I attempted to gather my bearings by looking around the surprisingly lush vegetation that surrounded me, my neck violently protesting at the sudden movement after having been kinked in one position while I had slept. I winced in pain as I attempt to slowly stretch my stiff muscles. The lyrical chirping of songbirds overhead seemed almost mocking as I struggled against the pain that was begging me not to move my neck. The sore, tired muscles in the rest of my body soon joined in the protest.
Sleeping on the cold, hard forest floor obviously hadn't done me any favours. How the characters in this world managed to sleep outdoors routinely and not have kinked spines that resembled roller-coaster was beyond me.
Then again, I never was a big fan of camping.
It was strange how such abundant greenery could thrive this close to a desert. I was no geologist or whatever scientist studies this type of crap, but I would think that the vegetation or lack thereof would have changed more gradually. Then again, this was the Naruto universe…things didn't always have to make sense.
As the songbirds overhead continued with their melodic tweeting, completely unfazed by my presence, I came to the startling realization that I was alone. Despite the fact that there were no obvious signs of either Kisame or Itachi I wasn't about to throw confetti and start dancing around in celebration of my newly acquired freedom. They were out there somewhere, and if I made any attempt to escape Kisame just might make good on his threat to break my legs. Where would I go anyway? Trying to track back through the desert, alone and unaided, would be suicide.
Besides, even if I decided to pull an encore for moronic shit to do, it's not like the Akatsuki didn't have me under constant surveillance thanks to Zetsu. What was I going to do, somehow loose the two-toned espionage expert? Right…and while I'm at it why don't I just pull a griffon out of my ass and fly off to the Sherbet kingdom.
Perhaps if I had been some kind of super-powered bad-ass this animated world that I found myself inconceivably trapped in wouldn't have been so woefully dreadful; however, being someone who made the regular civilians here look like elite-ANBU soldier's quickly sucked the fun out of it.
Deciding that a slow, casual survey of the immediate surrounding area would not instantly set off alarms that I was 'trying to escape' I carefully lifted myself off the ground and took a cautious step towards the nearest treeline. Relief flooded through me when nothing lunged out at me for moving away from the tree trunk that I had been sleeping against. God this world is making me paranoid. Then again, given the insane murdering powers of nearly everyone on this planet perhaps being paranoid was rightly justified.
Attempting to keep a calm, regular pace I made my way further into the lush, over-grown thicket, the thick, green vegetation instantly making movement difficult. This wasn't the type of forest that I was used to, where previously made 'nature trails' cut a well-worn path between the trees. Young trees didn't dominate the landscape, their older more robust ancestors never having been cut down for timber. From the look of things not a single logging truck had every scarred this landscape.
As I haphazardly trailed my way through the abundant greenery, silently praying to anything that was listening that I wouldn't be in desperate need of some Benadryl later due to an ungodly amount of bug bites, I soon came across a cloak-less Itachi calmly perched on the low, thick branch of a tree. Since he had made no obvious attempt to conceal himself I could only conclude that he had intended for me to spot him. The missing-Leaf shinobi's attire was similar to that which other Akatsuki members wore consisting of, a mesh shirt, which was mostly hidden by a blue, V-neck shirt, a sash that was tied around his waist, and pair of blue pants. One hand was draped casually over a bent knee as he stared off into the distance, appearing to the entire world as though he were completely unaware of my presence.
"You're awake," he apathetically stated not bothering to so much as tilt his head in my direction.
It was entirely unsettling how the raven-haired Sharingan wielder could be so easily aware of my every move without even having to look at me. I nodded once in reply, despite the fact that he was unlikely to physically see such a movement from his current position, as I continued to sweep my gaze over the wooded area that had surrounded our makeshift campsite searching for the blue skinned shark-man.
Finding no trace of the tallest Akatsuki member I felt a growing sense of unease begin to lick along my nerves at the idea of being alone with Itachi. Not that my alone time with Kisame had been a picnic, in fact I would rather erase the memory from my mind entirely, but there was something about the Uchiha that was just…unnerving. Though he wasn't exactly cruel he wasn't altogether kind either, and I had the distinct impression that I was likely to embarrass myself horribly, no doubt showing off my stupidity to its fullest potential, while I was in the company of this particular shinobi.
Itachi just had this aura about him that made me feel stupid and insignificant while being around him. Well, more so than anyone else anyway. Maybe it was the whole prodigy thing.
"Unless I'm sleepwalking with my eyes open it's a pretty safe assumption that I'm awake," I replied back in a dry, cynical tone.
The raven-haired Uchiha continued to remain completely uninterested in my presence, his vision focused on the seemingly never-ending sea of trees ahead. For the entire world he appeared as though he couldn't care less whether I stayed where I was or immediately starting dashing like a lunatic in the other direction.
"Hn"
Other than the singular noncommittal sound, a popular response among the Uchiha brothers, he gave no further acknowledgement to my current proximity. In the show Itachi's aloofness and rarely spoken words made the character seem dangerous and cunning, now it was just annoying. I couldn't believe that I was actually finding myself wondering where Kisame was and hoping that he'd return. The giant shark-man was a colossal ass-hole but at least he was entertaining.
"So are you actually going to be taking me somewhere, or should I just get used to calling myself jungle-girl from now on?"
Slowly he turned to face me, one eyebrow slightly arched on his otherwise stoic face. His impassive charcoal eyes burned into me for several uncomfortable seconds before he gracefully leapt from his resting place to land a few feet in front of me.
Hadn't I repeatedly emphasized that I was physically useless in this cartoon universe already, so why the scrambled-eggs on fuck toast was I continuing to make such contemptuous remarks?
Still holding my gaze he lifted an arm and pointed in the direction to his right. "Head that way," he ordered in his characteristic monotone. Moving in the opposite direction he fluidly crouched next to a tree to retrieve something resting at its base. With an expert fluttering of material the classic Akatsuki cloak was once again draped over his shoulders.
Well this was certainly new. I think this may have been the first time I had the pleasure of traveling with a character from this universe without being flung over a shoulder like a sack of rice. Not that trekking through this overgrowth was exceptionally delightful, but it was nice to be taken somewhere without being reduced to the category of luggage for a change.
We continued trudging through the thick forest, in complete silence, for what felt like hours. Perhaps some meaningless small talk would have helped me to forget the growing ache in my feet, but Itachi wasn't exactly known for being a great conversationalist and I couldn't think of anything to say to the phlegmatic shinobi. What could we have talked about anyway? How his covert operation to spy on the Akatsuki for the leaf was going, or how his secret schemes regarding his younger brother Sasuke were coming along?
Yeah, casually bringing up that I knew anything about either of those things would probably not be beneficial to my continued well-being. Then again the only reason why I was still able to suck in oxygen and hadn't been turned into a mutilated pile of human chunks was because of the knowledge I possessed so perhaps Itachi had some suspicion that I might know something. Not that I had any intention of testing that theory. Out of all the Akatsuki members the Sharingan wielder was the least likely to murder me for some sick, twisted pleasure and I wanted to remain on his good side as best as I could. Not that I thought he wouldn't kill me I wasn't that delusional.
As we continued to walk in awkward silence, perhaps only awkward on my part, the temperature and humidity of the forest had risen significantly. My increasingly sweat soaked desert robes began to cling to me uncomfortably, the garments having not been designed for such a damp environment. The warm temperatures did nothing to stop the biting bugs which I swatted at with increasing frustration.
How the hell was Itachi, who was walking ahead of me, completely unaffected? The humidity didn't seem to be having any effect on him and he didn't appear to be the least bit bothered by the abundant insects. Did coming for a different universe make me taste better or something?
"You're wild movements will only attract more of them to you," Itachi's calmly commented in his usual monotone.
Fuck you right in your annoyingly handsome face! He was probably right but my uncomfortable, clingy clothing and itching bug bites had me beyond annoyed with my current situation. Whatever pleasant demeanor I might have had since waking was rapidly be replaced by an ungodly amount of crankiness. Childishly I flipped off the back of his head, no longer caring whether he'd see or understand such a gesture, before resuming my mission to terminate any bug that come within my kill zone. Fuck bugs. Fuck humidity. Fuck nature. Fuck stupid, impossible cartoon universes.
"Took you guys long enough," Kisame sarcastically commented. "What's the matter girlie couldn't pick up the pace?"
"Go fuck yourself!" I viciously snapped.
I was in no mood for the blue shark-man's teasing. I was hot, I was itchy I probably looked like swamp-thing's bride wrapped in damp clothing and I hadn't had breakfast yet so my bitch-meter was definitely in the red. Besides Fishface could blame the Uchiha if we were too damn slow.
My inability to leap through the trees like a squirrel on speed should have come as no surprise, so if getting to this place quickly, where ever the hell it is, was so important Itachi could have damn well carried me. Not that I particularly relished such an idea but these people had the ability to move faster than I could ever hope to and sometimes speed was necessary.
Before my elevated irritation began to subside and I could begin to stress over the ramifications of making such a rude comment to a deadly S-ranked criminal Kisame's great, bulky form was suddenly blocking my path, his significantly taller form towering over my own. Surprised I stumbled backwards only to have the blue-skinned shinobi swiftly snake his arm around me, forcing me closer to him.
"Such activity is better with a partner don't you think?" He whispered teasingly.
Mind rapidly flickering between irritation and terror I pushed uselessly against him in a futile attempt to get some distance between us. Not this again. It was likely that he was only implying a potential sexual relationship between us because he knew it would guarantee him some type of reaction. Unfortunately he was right. Even though I knew this was just a twisted game on his part I couldn't completely stop myself from panicking. Although in reality who knew how selective the shark-man actually was. What would happen if I started showing signs that I might be into it...?
Okay gag. Yup, stopping that train of thought right now.
Kisame held me against him effortlessly, no doubt in a sadistic attempt to maximize my terror, for a few seconds longer before he wordlessly released me as though he had suddenly grown bored. No longer amused with his raunchy game of terrorizing the foreign girl he calmly walked back to where Itachi was now waiting.
"I know you're eager girlie but you're just going to have to wait," he casually commented over his shoulder.
That was it. That was fucking it.
"Hey Uchiha you want to put a leash on your dog?" I ferociously spat. "Maybe you should see about getting him neutered."
Pain unexpectedly flared through my body as I was roughly knocked to the ground, a large hand squeezing my throat. My eyes began to bulge as my lungs struggled to take in enough air. Pathetically I slapped and clawed at the hand that was constricting my windpipe but it only caused its grip on my neck to tighten further.
"Kisame," Itachi stated warningly.
"Yeah yeah…she has information…blah blah so we can't kill her," Kisame replied loosening his grip. "I don't see why you don't just use the Sharingan to get what we need and be done with her."
Aww and here I thought Kisame was my friend. Not. Gulping in some much needed air I shot an angry glare at the shark-man which was easily ignored. That was a valid question though. Why hadn't the order been given for Itachi to do just that? The bloodline limit wouldn't exactly be as reliable as something like…say Shockwave's cortical psychic patch for extracting information, but the crafty raven-haired shinobi probably had some way of making it work. Yes, I am aware that Shockwave is just a comic book/cartoon character but living in an animated universe does tend to blur the lines of reality a little bit. Regardless of the reasoning I wasn't too broken up about the lack of such an order. In no way was I eager to have my brains potentially reduced to the consistency of rice pudding.
"Despite her obvious faults the girl has been obedient and the success of such a technique would be rather unpredictable given her lack of chakra," Itachi insipidly commented.
Kisame jerked his head down toward me as though I'd suddenly morphed into a three-headed unicorn that ate jellybeans and farted rainbows. Of course I didn't have chakra. What real world person did? My chakra-networks were slowly coming along, according to the sand physicians, if those crazy scientists were to be trusted, but they weren't quite past the fetal stage of development yet. A fact that was both depressing and alarming. On the one hand it was hard not to feel pathetic when my body was struggling to develop something that an infant had already developed successfully. I'm sure there was some amazing scientific miracle in there or something, but that hardly seemed relevant. On the other hand the idea that my body was adapting itself to this world was downright terrifying. Did my chances of ever returning home decrease the more it developed?
Or would the network simply cease growing and shrivel away like an appendage that was no longer necessary if I somehow managed to tumble through the rabbit hole back to reality.
"What do you mean she's got no chakra? Everything has at least some chakra." Kisame questioned in astonishment as he shifted his perplexed gaze over to Itachi.
"Apparently not," Itachi apathetically responded.
As was typical of the Uchiha my apparent freak-status in this cartoon universe seemed to be inspiring the same amount of emotion as he might get from sweeping his kitchen floor, though who really knew what the dispassionate missing Leaf-nin actually thought.
"Could she be masking her chakra somehow?" Kisame suggested eying me suspiciously.
This conversation was beginning to sound vaguely familiar…
"According to Zetsu's surveillance the sand's medical team had the same hypothesis but were forced to conclude that she simply does not have chakra."
So that cloned plant bastard had been watching me. That explained how Itachi knew of my abnormal quality. From my perspective I still didn't think it was that big of a deal, lacking magical-ninja juice was well…normal, but I wasn't about to openly advertise such an anomaly to anyone I happen to come across.
Not unless I was drunk and decided I wanted to mess with people. Step right up. Watch as this unexplainable freak of nature eats a bag of Doritos. Damn it now I wanted snacks.
"How is that even possible?" Kisame asked his voice laced with obvious confusion as he continued to stare down at me with tiny white eyes as though I were the weirdest thing he'd ever seen.
Nothing but silence answered his question. I certainly wasn't going to answer him. Who knew how they'd respond to the whole I'm from a different dimension thing. I had no way to prove anything other than what I had on me when I woke up in that dank dirt pit and who knew were any of that had ended up. Given my abundant knowledge about this universe they might believe me…or they might just think that I was bat shit crazy.
"You don't know do you?" Kisame continued with almost smug satisfaction as his unusually small eyes turned toward his silent partner.
"Hn"
"Well aren't you a weird one," Kisame commented leering at me with a toothy smirk.
"Said the kettle," I defensively retorted.
He was a gigantic, blue-skinned, shark-man…thing with an obnoxiously large sword that liked to eat chakra and I was the weird one? As far as I was concerned I was normal. It was everyone else in this animated world that was fucking weird.
"We should get moving," Itachi ordered before continuing on his way completely confident that we would follow.
Where were we even going? Were we going to just walk all the way back to the Akatsuki base? Oh what I wouldn't give to have a shower and a good meal, emphasis on good, right now. I was really starting to miss all the foods that had been so familiar my whole life. Not that there was anything wrong with Japanse-style cuisine but sometimes I just wanted a burger and fries.
"Come on girlie."
Grabbing a handful of desert robes Kisame roughly pulled me into the air before effortlessly throwing me over his shoulder, forcing the air out of my lungs as my stomach smacked painfully against him. I don't care how muscular his shoulders were that still hurt. I squirmed in his vice-like grip in a pointless attempt to momentarily get more comfortable, but such a thing wasn't possible in this position. There was only uncomfortable and very uncomfortable.
"Dammit! I can walk you know," I angrily growled.
"Yeah, but you're too fucking slow," Kisame shot back, "and I'd like to get something to eat before nightfall."
Me too! I thought, my stomach grumbling hungrily in agreement.
Continuing with our seemingly unending nature trek through the forest we eventually came upon a wide dirt road. Although it was obviously maintained somehow, the fact that the forest hadn't reclaimed it at all attesting to this, the road was completely deserted. Which was probably for the best, I didn't need to be caught in the middle of a fight again.
Unfortunately Kisame had yet to put me back on my own two feet. He said it was because I was too slow, which is basically true, but I honestly think he was just doing it because the gill-faced jerk got some twisted joy out of pushing my buttons. On the plus side, at least my aching feet could get a break. Too bad I couldn't say the same for my aching stomach. I don't know what was worse, Kisame's shoulder digging into it or the fact that I still hadn't had anything to eat yet.
After a while we finally came across something that I could only describe as a tiny wooden house with a small sign out front marked with letters that I couldn't read. Apparently this little building was like this world's version of a street vendor because shortly after disappearing inside Itachi returned carrying a plate of skewered balls.
Kisame immediately plucked one off the plate and shoved the entire thing into his mouth before reaching for another one. I was going to have to act fast if I wanted anything to eat before Kisame devoured them all. Quickly snatching a skewer off the plate for myself I held the unfamiliar item up and inspected it curiously. I wasn't sure what to make of the impaled slightly doughy-looking balls. They sort of looked like sesame balls, though obviously lacking sesame seeds, so maybe this was the Japanese version? Oh well whatever, they could tell me that it was literally made from boiled garbage at this point and I still might eat it. Yes I was that hungry.
Itachi had grabbed a stick for himself after setting the plate down on the small deck the little shop offered. The raven-haired shinobi ate in silence as he kept an ever watchful eye on the two of us. No doubt making sure that Kisame didn't suddenly try to butcher me horribly until the Akatsuki leader revoked my "Do Not Kill" status.
"You actually going to eat that or just stare at it," Kisame teased.
Narrowing my eyes at the blue-skinned Akatsuki member I took an experimental bite. It was doughy, slightly sweet, but not at all horrible. Definitely better than boiled garbage.
"Will you hurry the fuck up you old fucker!" an annoyingly familiar voice angrily shouted. "That fucking body is starting to fucking smell."
"Deal with it," a gravelly voice sternly snapped. "This one is worth a lot of money, unlike your moronic bloodletting rituals that do nothing but waste time."
With the amount of swearing that would make a drunken sailor blush and the mention of bloodletting rituals and money I had a pretty good idea who was approaching. Given that neither Itachi nor Kisame had made any attempt to hide or go on the defensive they seemed to know who was approaching as well.
Oh god not this foul-mouthed son of a bitch.
Thanks for reading.
Again I apologise for the rather feeble, uninteresting chapter. If I put titles to these this one would be called "A Bunch of Piddling About Where Fuck All Happens."
Here's hoping I can conquer this writer's block.
Until next time….
