Author: Qaddafi the Ripper
Summary: Join Shark-chan and Weasel-chan in their random, humorous, bloody, and occasionally sexy adventures as they try to cope on the measly salaries provided by Akatsuki.
Disclaimer: "Sexy" is still in the summary, so you can still assume I'm not Kishimoto.
Part Two: Adventures in Nail Polish! Because by now we've all wondered why.
A multitude towered before him. There was a seemingly endless number of different sizes, different brands, different shapes, and, most importantly and most challenging, different colors.
Kisame frowned in intense concentration. Then he held his right hand out in front of him as a comparison. To his dismay, he still couldn't tell the difference between the twenty different shades of purple nail-polish. Not to mention the purple-red combination, the purple-blue combination, the blue-purple combination (and there was a significant difference between those two, according to Deidara, who could always be counted on to know these things), the dark purple, the light purple, the lavender (again, two very different colors, or so said Deidara), and the purple with green in it (1).
As a warrior, a ninja, and a man, Kisame disliked having to admit defeat. But reality was something that couldn't be changed and Kisame liked to think he was mature enough to recognize his short-comings and do something about them. Or at least know where to get help.
He turned to his partner. "Which shade is it we want again, Itachi-san?" he asked.
Itachi sighed. "We want shade number 13 of purple by Colours for Real Men (2). It's the same shade we always get."
Kisame searched the display of nail-polish for a few minutes before locating the appropriate one in the largest bottle available. Nail-polish went quickly when shared between two people, after all. He held up his hand next to it and squinted. It did look like the same color as he currently had on, but so did every other bottle on display. He was forced to conclude that nail-polish color was one thing he would never understand. Fortunately, Akatsuki had paired him up with Itachi, who understood these things almost as well as Deidara did. Otherwise, he'd be permanently out of uniform.
He glanced at the price on the bottle and cringed. As he did every time on these little shopping ventures, Kisame considered the possibility of wearing shoes with closed toes. Then he wouldn't have to paint his toenails and no one would be the wiser. Unfortunately, Akatsuki strongly recommended zori, which he was very attached to in any case. So he supposed it was a moot issue. At least Akatsuki was decent enough to give refunds for money spent on uniform and weapons purchase and upkeep.
When he finally paid for his purchase, the lady smiled and told him it was cute that he was shopping with his girlfriend. Kisame smiled back and thanked her properly, mentally wondering what she was talking about. The only person anywhere near him was Itachi, who was debating whether or not to get nail-polish remover. (They did end up getting the nail-polish remover too, since they had a tendency to get blood under their nails, so they had to thoroughly remove the nail-polish currently on before applying any new layers. Itachi also said that not removing the old first was bad for the nails.)
As they slowly walked out of the store and back to the inn they were staying at that night, a passer-by called out that they made a cute couple. Kisame frowned, but he supposed the person must have mistaken Itachi for a girl. A somewhat understandable mistake; the long Akatsuki cloaks they both wore obscured most of their body shapes. But if that was all, how come Itachi got wolf-whistles and indecent propositions and Kisame didn't?
Maybe his features, which he knew were unlike anyone else's who wasn't from Hidden Mist, drove off potential admirers. He contemplated this as they continued to walk.
His thoughts were interrupted, however, when a clearly drunk man sauntered up to them. "Hey, babe," he addressed Itachi. The form of address made Itachi's eyebrow twitch ever so slightly. It was one of the few ways you could tell Itachi was starting to get angry. Kisame shifted a little further away from his partner. "Why don'cha ditch that loser--" he gestured vaguely towards Kisame "--and have some with a real man instead?"
"Go away," Itachi said in his flattest tone. Kisame took another step away.
"Aww, c'mon. I've got some real hot lovin' jus' fer you." The man leered blearily, so drunk that he didn't even notice the shuriken to his gut until he was already lying on the ground. He managed one last, pitiful moan before he died.
Kisame grinned and delicately stepped past, making sure he didn't get any blood on him. Itachi retrieved his shuriken, and the rest of the walk back to the inn had no more bad pick-up lines.
They were staying at a rather grungy inn that night. Places like this, which they frequented far too often, made Kisame consider getting a part-time job on the side. Poverty just wasn't his thing. Or maybe he could shake down some little kids for their lunch money.
Kisame claimed the bathroom first, letting Itachi raid the kitchen (translation: steal food while the chefs weren't watching, a very advanced ninja technique) this time. When they were both finished, Kisame started on dinner while Itachi pulled out the nail-polish remover. Their policy was that whoever had their bath first got the new coat of polish first (since neither wanted to paint smelly feet). Then they'd switch positions.
He popped some mochi into his mouth and stuck out his right foot (recently relieved of its old nail-polish), and Itachi pulled out the bottle in order to put the new stuff on. Kisame had opened the window earlier, as very few things smelt worse than nail-polish remover. They always had to hope that they didn't need to go sneaking around after dolling themselves up; an enemy could smell them a kilometer or more away.
Before Itachi could start painting, someone knocked loudly on their door. Kisame frowned and griped his sword, just in case. "Who is it?" he called.
The door opened to reveal an irate man in a yukata, looking like he just came from his bath. He glared at Kisame and Itachi fiercely. "What is that horrible smell?" he demanded.
"Nail-polish remover," Itachi told him flatly, voice typically devoid of emotion.
"Well do it somewhere else!" the man snapped. "It's making the whole inn smell!" He snorted. "Why are two men--" Itachi had abandoned his cloak, so his gender was now readily apparent "--painting their toe-nails anyway? That's really gay."
Kisame frowned. "That's not a very nice thing to say, sir. I think any type of make-up can be quite manly, when applied correctly."
"What are you on about, you queer?" the man sneered. "You freaks."
"Excuse me for just one moment, Itachi-san," Kisame said. Mere seconds later, he was sitting back down, their door was closed, and the body had been disposed of in the dumpster in the parking lot. He sighed in content. The scent of blood pleasantly overwhelmed the scent of nail-polish remover.
He presented his right foot to Itachi again. After a moment, Itachi asked, "You really don't think having painted nails is gay?"
"No," Kisame replied with complete honesty. "I saw weirder things in Hidden Mist Village. Some chuunin a few years older than me wore a ball gown with sequins and lacy ribbons on a mission once. After that, nothing seems bad." He paused, then chuckled. "Besides, if people think you're some kind of freaky wimp, then you have an extra advantage. I'm sure you know all about that, Itachi-san."
Itachi frowned. "What do you mean?" Although his voice was still as dull as usual, Kisame thought he sounded a little hurt.
"You're awfully pretty for a guy," he pointed out. "The ponytail doesn't help."
Itachi put the bottle down and fingered his hair somewhat protectively. "I like my hair the way it is," he protested.
"I like it too," Kisame assured him quickly. "But some people, who don't know better because they have no experience with ninja, thinks it makes you girly, and, therefore, wimpy. They've clearly never met a kunoichi." He thought back to some of the formidable females he'd run into in the past, although he did let his mind's eye linger on their breasts.
Itachi's expression lightened ever so slightly. He released his hair and went back to Kisame's feet. Kisame felt vaguely pleased that he'd made Itachi feel better. He remembered what he'd been thinking about earlier. "Itachi-san, do you think I'm good looking?" he asked.
There was a long pause. Finally, Itachi said, "You look very... unique. Which can be a good thing."
"Yes, I like being one of a kind," Kisame agreed. "Well, my siblings looked a lot like me, but I ate them shortly after we were hatched. Mama was ever so proud of me." He wiped away a tear brought on by the memory. Then he mentally reviewed precisely what Itachi had said. "You didn't say whether or not being unique was good in my case," he pointed out.
By now, Itachi had moved onto his left foot. "You're unique in a good way," he assured him. Then he added, so quietly that Kisame could barely hear him, "I think you're good looking."
Kisame smiled happily and leaned back. He decided to be nice and not comment on Itachi's admission. It was a good night, despite the scent of nail-polish remover, which was beginning to drown out the smell of blood. It was, he decided, a good time to be alive, to be a ninja, and to be a villain.
Notes:
1. the purple with green in it is octarine.
2. Colours for Real Men is obviously a British company.
Random Original Character Death Count: 2 this chapter, 5 total
Next time: Adventures in Orochimaru! So many wrong things with that title...