Dragon Blood Oil:  Kidnap, Not Quite

Disclaimer:  I do not own Naruto.  I do not see the point in spending any more time on a disclaimer.

Note from the author:  First of all I'd like to thank all the people who had the graciousness to review.  I really love all of the reviews, even the not-so-great ones. 

For this chapter I have decided to change scenes entirely.  I'd like to welcome all of you to Earth Country.  Welcome to the Village of the hidden Leaf.

18 year old anbu, Hitake Kakashi fell from his bed around midnight. The confident shinobi gazed around his lightless bedroom for the source of what woke him up.  Piles of clothes, assorted weapons, books (Explaining Girls, Justice, Honor, Betrayal), and leftover food were scattered over his floor, along with the bed sheets he has kicked off during some strange dream.  Posters hung on the walls, some peeling by the corners (Self-help:  Get a girlfriend now!  Be a better shinobi, master the Sharrigan!    The code of the Shinobi, Progeny: The Next Big Bang).

Kakashi heard something just before the door swung open.  Light from the hall streamed in, momentarily blinding the crouching anbu.    Kakashi recovered quickly, he rolled across the floor on finely hewn reflexes, grabbing a kunai from one of the various shuriken holsters.

In the doorway a large man's figure was silhouetted.  The strange man leaned in the doorway lazily, as if he expected this reaction.  He smelt of beer.  Kakashi didn't recognize him at all. 

"What are you doing in my house?"

"I've come to collect my fair trade of goods," said the man simply.  He seemed to be waiting for something.  He wasn't a slave trader.  They generally knew better then to prey on shinobi. 

Kakashi did not beak out of his fighting stance.  There was no way he could trust this man.

 "Put that down boy, you won't need it now," The relaxed man beckoned at the kunai Kakashi had hidden in the palm of his hand. 

Kakashi felt an overwhelming urge to obey.  His mind whispered, put it down….  No!  Put it down…  His fingers twitched to drop the kunai.  What kind of mind fuck was this man using?  What jutsu was this?  I am not going down without a fight!!!!

"Well if you insist on being difficult…"

"Tell me who you are!"  He forced the words out of his mouth.  A spy?  An assassin?  Then why prey on a lone anbu?

His body moved on its own now.  It rose from crouching stance, his body jerking from a mental battle with a strange jutsu.  Kakashi did the only thing he could think of, used the sharrigan, (not that it would do much).  The man in the doorway made a strange motion and Kakashi's body stopped moving entirely.  Arg!  No he couldn't even copy the jutsu he just witnessed!

Shelf his pride, that's the answer!  Call for help!  By this point his mouth would no longer obey its master.  Kakashi watched fearlessly as the man entered the room.  His normal and sharrigan eye fallowed every movement.  The man tapped a point on the Anbu's neck. Darkness swallowed him.

Kakashi body never hit the floor.  The Watcher caught it before it had a chance.  Watcher stared at the boy caustically.  Kakashi was wearing only boxers and a facemask.  This was what he came all this way to find?  This overconfident fool?  Pathetic.  This mission was doomed from the start.  Kami, why me?!

The Watcher hoisted the boy over his shoulder potato sack style and walked to a horse drawn cart waiting outside.  The boy was too light; he had gone some time without food, thought the Watcher.  The rug salesman dropped his limp cargo into the back of the cart with a few articles of clothing he gathered before leaving. 

Now, stop two.

Umino Iruka slept right through the Watcher's entry, the Watcher's walk through the kitchenette, and the Watcher's walk up the creaking stairs.  In fact Iruka didn't wake up until the Watcher stood next to his bed.

"Now this is pathetic, wake up boy!"  Iruka shot straight up.  He whirled around wildly until the Watcher grabbed an arm.  "Stop hyperventilating, calm down, get dressed, pretend I'm not here," Iruka stood puzzled as a man in the loose robes of a wind country dweller flicked on the lights.

"Who are you?"  He bent to pull off his pajamas, blushing.  The older man averted his eyes.  Iruka dove into a dresser searching for clean clothes.

"I buy things," the man turned back around.  "I sell things.  Call me Watcher," Watcher stuck out a gnarled hand.  Iruka paused and hurriedly shook before rushing into the next scattered pile of clothes.

"Umino Iruka," as if he didn't know that already.  Iruka buckled his chunin vest and pulled his hair into a ponytail.  "How do I know you're not going to kill me?"

"You don't, but that's not your concern," Iruka felt compelled to obey Watcher's orders.  Something about this man made him uneasy.  He knew he was being manipulated.  "Besides, if I wanted to kill you I would have done it a long time ago, perhaps while you slept,"

Wonderful, this man thinks I'm an idiot.  Let's try a different question then.

"Where are we going?"  Perhaps his first questions should have been "why".

"To Wind Country, I hate all these trees, they make me feel claustrophobic, you know what that means, right?"  Iruka nodded.  "As for your 2nd question.  I can't tell you yet, so don't ask again," 

Ok, fine.  The Sand people were allies right now, though that could change at the drop of a hat. 

"I'm ready," Iruka faced the Watcher.

"No you are not,"

"Wait, how long is this gonna take?"

"A few weeks, give or take a month," A month?!  What the hell was going on here? 

"Then food-,"

"Don't worry about food.  Worry about your health.  Take clothes…  Clothes and…   Oh yeah, and as much weaponry as you can carry.  At least enough for two," Iruka didn't like the sound of this.  What was going on here?  He was sneaking out at 1:30 A.M. (he glanced at the clock); with a man he knew nothing about, who was telling him he would be gone for a month.

"You know any dragon legends?"

"Of course," Iruka threw a bunch of clothes and kunai into a backpack.  Awkwardly, he tied on a shuriken holster with the other hand.

"Ever wanted to meet one?"

"No," he said quickly.  Quite frankly Iruka wanted nothing to do with the fire breathing leviathans of legend.

"Well, then I would prepare to be scared shitless," Iruka stopped dead in his packing.  He could've turned back, but he was too far into it now.  "Don't stop boy," It seemed like Watcher read his mind.  "I'll have to do to you what I did to your comrade,"

"What?  Who?"  Another chunin perhaps?  Iruka tied the pack shut. 

"Talk later, move now," Watcher gave the boy a shove towards an open window.  "Go.  Now.  Time's up,"

On the street below, in the waxy light of a streetlamp stood a wooden farmer's cart.  A pair of marking less ebony horses waited hitched to the front.  They were untied, but waited quietly.  In the front end of the cart was a long bench which sat elevated above the rear.  On it rested a long coiled black whip next to a bottle of cheap wine.  Iruka had an ominous feeling.  He pushed it aside; it was too late for that.  In the back of the cart were piles and roles of rugs, all types, oriental, knitted, doormats, Persian, anything.  Mixed in with them flew bits of straw.  The whole ensemble creaked.  It looked ludicrous sitting there in the middle of Leaf Village.

"Good gods boy, what are you waiting for?  Jump!"  Iruka sprung from the window.  For a brief moment wind rushed past his face, then he landed nimbly on the rough wooden bench.  The horses didn't even flinch.  Watcher sat right there next to him, Iruka hadn't seen him jump.

"Get in the back kid.  You can get some sleep before we get there.  Long trip,"

Iruka flopped off the bench and into the rear of the cart.  Dust and bits of hay flew out from under him when he landed.  It itched his throat and eyes.  He felt so sleepy all of a sudden, unbearably so.  He rubbed his eyes.  Watcher clucked at the horses. 

Sooo tired…  No!  It's what he wants…  Mentally Iruka shook himself.  He leaned against the side of the cart yawning.

"Hey, wazzat?"  There was something underneath the bench.  Someone.   Iruka rubbed his eyes.  His vision was so fuzzy.  "Waz he doin'?"

"Sleep, kid," came the Watcher's voice.

"He's sleepin there?  It doesn't, not seem fair.  He gets ta- gets to stretch out.  Nofair…  He's only wearin' 'is  b-boxers.  Ha ha.  This is, it's weird or sumptin'…  Nofair…," Iruka's eyes closed.  His breathing evened into that of sleep.

Watcher smiled as Iruka's babbling subsided.  The boy had been awfully resistant to his jutsu, but an idiot if anything.  This is what he was bringing.  Guardians?  Ha, an overconfident fool and an idiot with no sense of self-preservation.  This mission was doomed from the start.  The Watcher lifted the wine bottle to his lips and glanced back to check his merchandise.

The boys were ok.  They'd wake in a few hours. The nan turned his attention to the great ebony horses. 

"Go on, get us outa this stinking hellhole," They walked to the gates, avoiding the light of streetlamps hooves echoing in the empty street.

The huge wooden gates swung open before their small procession. 

"Who goes there?!"  A voice called from the watch tower above the dark gates.  Watcher ignored the sentry's call. 

"Go on, go through the gate," he whispered to the horses.  They listened.

"Stop!" yelled Hayate.  He swung down from his post, the light inside it flicked on.  Watcher did a quick jutsu in the dim light.

"Sleep now, kid.  Get some rest," Suddenly Hayate felt unbearably sleepy.  Sooo tired…

Wham!  The gates slammed shut behind the cart. 

There were no more obstacles.  Two weeks was up.  He had found his quarries.  Time favored him.  

Watcher urged the horses into a gallop.  Muscles bunched and twisted in their haunches, hooves pounded on the dirt road.  Konohagakure became again "Village of the Hidden Leaf", as it vanished into a swirl of leaves.

Naito Kiseki- you are one of the only people to review more then once.  You wanted me to introduce other characters so here's a few more!  These guys are fun to write about.

Dan Inverse- To answer both of your questions, Jezebel's lineage is quite complicated.  Her mother was a mortal woman, *makes note, and her father was a demi-god.  His parents were a dragon god (in human form, obviously) and another mortal woman.  So Jezzy is ¼ dragon god.  Is this too complicated?  It does get explained later because she doesn't know it either.  Your other question, well, I don't rightly know.  I apologize, won't happen again.

TuRkEy R EvIl- Thank you!  Review again please?!

Autophage- Chapter three wasn't really a chapter.  I'll try to work on literary device, but it's rather difficult for me.  Do you think I should do a little more with personification?  Chapter 2 was a bit hurried; I think I wrote that random bit of idiocy in there because I felt that the reader might want to be introduced to the characters they already know.  Like the leaf shinobi.

Will – Thank you.  Come again.

If anyone has any questions, comments, or even flames about this story I encourage you to please, please review.  I would love to make my writing better so constructive criticism is always helpful.