Click.
Click.
"Something's botherin' you," Ai Wei said abruptly as Shikamaru thought of his next move. Once again, they were seated on opposite sides of each other, a shogi board between them. They were in the shogi hall this time, today too chilly to be outside. There was a storm blowing down in the east, sending cold winds their way.
"Perceptive," Shikamaru muttered as he shifted a piece to the left.
"Tell me."
"... It's nothing. Just something my dad said a long time ago."
"Oh yeah? What?"
There was no harm in telling her. "He told me that Sasori wasn't a well-known martial artist outside of Akatsuki." Click. "He couldn't have not known about his reputation as Akasuna no Sasori. He lied to me. But why?"
Ai Wei's subsequent silence was surprisingly thoughtful. "Maybe he knew."
"Knew?" Shikamaru echoed, the gears in his own mind turning.
"Yeah. All that stuff you told me about him. How he's not evil anymore. Maybe your dad already knew and accepted that he was already different at that point. It wasn't anyone else's business, so he didn't make a fuss out of it." Ai Wei twirled a general in her hand. "If anything you said about him is true, your dad was a smart guy, Shika. He gave Sasori a chance by keeping his yap shut."
Click.
Click.
"I win," Ai Wei smugly declared.
Shikamaru scoffed. "Again."
"Gladly."
Sasori had learned to stop trusting people a long time ago. There were exceptions, of course, like Deidara, but everyone else he held at arm's length. He sometimes wondered what could have brought him to open his heart to her like he had, but he realized eventually that it was because she didn't play the game like he was used to. She did not play to extend her own lifespan at the expense of everything else, she played only to live and enjoy her life to the fullest.
To her, life was transient.
In the several months that he had known her, she had made herself more trustworthy to him than anyone else had ever been. He remembered the way Chiyo had fed him with lies, teaching him how to kill, how to slaughter—how to exist. The lives he had crushed in his palm, all the blood he had spilled... In the end, it had amounted to nothing. His victims had been nothing but a means to an end.
To what end?
It was something he asked himself every now and again.
There was none. He'd learned that years ago, yet he still pondered, still searched for a different answer that might soothe his bitter soul. While he might have enjoyed the occasional power trip that came with his former position, at the end of the day, it had boiled down to the most primal instinct of self-preservation and survival. He had killed and murdered his way to living another day. And then he'd use that day to ensure the next, and the cycle would repeat itself.
That isn't living, Deidara's harsh voice echoed in his ear, Living isn't the same as existing.
But who was he to know the difference, when he hadn't started to really live until he'd met her? For almost thirty years of his life, he had done nothing but exist. His life had been devoid of the inherent human need joy and fulfillment, and the meaningless, yet significant eccentricities that came with living. Thirty years gone—filled with only blood, agendas that were not truly his own, and an endless stream of deceit and delusions.
You're wrong, he whispered back, A brat like you wouldn't know anything about planning ahead. And even then, I was lucky to live to see another day.
Why was it, then, that someone so young like her had lived more than he had?
He'd need an eternity to make up for all the moments he had missed.
It was his vision of withstanding time that had led him this far. He would have been dead by his own poison-coated blade years ago had he not deluded himself into the possibility of there being something to look forward to after life had ended. After his controllers were gone, and his strings had been cut, and he would be free to roam the earth.
But in the end, he was mortal. Would never be anything but.
It's so simple, Deidara murmured, There's no thinking involved, no plans, or agendas, or webs of lies you have to spin. Just live.
When Sasori's eyes opened, she was gone and he was staring into nothing but darkness.
He released a quiet breath into the night.
Working with Sai was an... experience. It was also one that Sasori did not care for in the slightest. His new partner had proven to be nothing but an annoyance, always buzzing around him like a fruit fly around the ripest watermelon. He wasn't the type to fill gaps with meaningless conversation, which Sasori was glad for, but the ink-haired boy sometimes attempted to 'bond' with him through 'acceptable social means'.
Sai, Sasori had concluded a long time ago, was an absolute idiot when it came to functioning as a human being.
Not that he had much room to talk, but the point still stood.
Danzo had made it clear that Sasori and Sai were to work as a unit, but the younger male was making it awfully hard to do so. Sasori didn't trust Sai in the least, especially not with his life. The fact that Sai was an eerily excellent eccedentesiast just made him all the more wary of him.
"What do you think?"
Sasori turned to Yugao, who was looking at him with a smirk, hands on her hips. Wind blowing through their hair, Sasori leaned back against the wooden post, vaguely aware of the purple-haired woman beside him turning her hip so that she, too, faced the horizon.
The sun rose every day, from east to west.
"For me," Yugao continued as the sun rose higher over the hills. "It's a reminder that there's something to look forward to, even in our darkest times."
Yugao made for good company. It was too bad that they would be parting ways to do their own things now. Sasori straightened. "You don't strike me as the sentimental type," he commented offhandedly as they made their way back downtown.
"I'm not." He wasn't deaf, nor was he blind—he heard the terseness in her voice, and could see the string around her neck, one that undoubtedly had a pendant attached to it, tucked beneath her clothing. "At least, I try not to be anymore."
Sai was at the town gates, waiting for them. Or, rather, waiting for Sasori. Normally, the red-haired man abhorred to keep others waiting, but he found that the black-haired soldier was an exception.
"You're late," Sai said in a clipped tone as Yugao slunk away, leaving Sasori to eye his partner rather impassively.
"My apologies," he replied bitingly, before adding with no little amount of sarcasm, "I got lost on the road of life."
Sai narrowed his eyes, for once not smiling. "Danzo-sama wishes for you to cease your amorous meetings with Taro Hair."
Danzo can go shove it. He and Yugao were nothing more than acquaintances, certainly not lovers in any sort of way. He only met with her each day to see the dawn simply to pass the time; it'd become a tradition of sorts, in the few weeks he had spent here.
"My 'amorous meetings', as you've put it, have done nothing to affect my performance."
Their backs stiff, the two males garnered minimal attention as they walked through the streets. "Regardless," Sai told him, no inflection in his voice, "You will cease the meetings, or risk earning Danzo-sama's further ire."
I was wondering when the old man was going to make a move. Sasori made no reply to Sai's demand, choosing instead to glower at the dirt path ahead of him. Someone like Danzo... He was the type to utterly crush a human being and rebuild them in order to suit his own interests. Absolute control—Sasori had been waiting to become a victim of this treatment. And now the war hawk was finally closing in on him.
It made his skin prickle in alarm.
Sai removed a scroll from his sleeve, unrolling it and passing one half of it to Sasori to they could read it together. "We've spent the last two weeks training. Tomorrow, we will begin to undertake missions, ranking from B to S."
If there was one thing universal in the world, it was mission rankings. And assuming things hadn't changed since he'd last undertaken missions in Suna, Sasori knew that D and C ranks still existed. It didn't seem, however, they were viable ranks during wartime. It was to be expected, he supposed. In fact, this was a vaguely familiar thing—he wasn't young enough to have not fought in the tail end of the Suna-Konoha trade war, when Suna's economy had been at its lowest. His first ever mission had been a B rank, his late uncle, Ebizo, leading the squad.
The training that Sai had brought up had been nothing more than a refresher course. They trained within secured grounds, striking always to kill, and nothing more. If you couldn't defend a fatal blow, then it was simply too bad. Danzo made sure to handpick those who he thought were to be on par with Sasori without his monster arm. Good thing, too, or they would have all been dead, and Danzo would have been a very, very angry man.
Most times, they trained in the dark, conducting assassinations on those who were unable to cough up their taxes.
Sasori's lip curled in disgust as he thought of the countless people he and Sai had murdered over something so meager as that. It was almost an insult to his pride and skills—his latest victims had been untrained and unimportant; merely cannon fodder of the crudest kind.
The deep sense of guilt and regret that came with taking human lives was more difficult to shake off this time around, clinging to him like a spider to a fly.
"And today?" Sasori prompted.
Sai snapped the scroll shut and bared his teeth at his partner in a faux smile. "We'll be seeing Danzo-sama at five o'clock to receive our mission briefing. For now, get some rest."
He disappeared into the trees, and Sasori couldn't help but roll his eyes.
But the annoyance (and spy) was gone, so until five, time was all he had. Almost effortlessly, he jumped onto a nearby rooftop, travelling through town and faking indifference when he couldn't help but wonder what Sai was doing at the orphanage when he neared it and felt his chaka signature there. He'd followed Sai once (the boy was still none the wiser—fool), but had found nothing that would compromise him or perhaps the townspeople. He didn't give a rat's ass about Danzo's safety, and most of the ROOT and ANBU soldiers were questionable as a general.
The brat's business was his own. Deidara might have had more patience, but—unlike her—Sasori knew when to keep his nose out of someone else's business, especially when that someone was an enemy he didn't want to have. Sai might have been young, but it was clear he would not hesitate to put him down if things went south. If Sasori let down his guard for even a minute, Sai would have his head. Besides, it was pretty clear that whatever business Sai had with the orphanage matron, it was personal. And, in his experience, he found that people who had personal things to protect bit harder than average rabbit.
He landed on a rooftop overlooking Rootbell Town's little market district, watching the skittish citizens go about their day. The brooch he now always carried in his pants pocket felt a little heavier than usual, and he ghosted his hand over it without thinking.
Rootbell Town... He swept his gaze across the township unflinchingly. How disgusting. This place couldn't even be called a town, from the way Danzo had run it down. Sighing through his nose, he moved on.
"Oi!"
Sasori's eyes shifted to where the voice had come from. It was that boy again—the crippled one with the crutch that had almost caused a scene the day he had arrived. His sickly, freckled face was turned upward at him.
"Yes, you!" the boy yelled, even though Sasori hadn't said anything.
The red-haired man let out an irritated sigh. "What is it you want, brat?"
The brat grinned at him foxily, a bead of sweat that trickled down his temple the only thing betraying his nervousness. He was in the presence of a notorious killer and he knew it. Or, at the very least, he knew how dangerous Sasori was. "D-don't you know it's rude to talk like this when you're so high up and I'm so far down?"
"I don't care for your country bumpkin etiquette."
"Hey! We're not bumpkins!"
"Don't try to deny it. You risk looking more foolish than you already do." Indulging in vindictive amusement, he sat down on the edge of the roof, letting one leg dangle over the ledge. "I'll ask again—what do you want?" A chilly wind blew through the street, accompanying Sasori's steely inquiry.
"I..." The boy looked down, as if couldn't bear to even say the words. "I just wanted to thank you. For not being like the rest of them, I mean... I really misjudged you..."
You wouldn't be saying those words if you knew who I really am... Sasori heaved another sigh. "Really? Is that all?" You're playing in my court now, kid. "If you really are so thankful, then I suppose you wouldn't be opposed to doing me a favor?"
"Huh?" The crippled bumpkin blinked. "What kind of favor...?" His eyes gleamed with a newfound wariness, one that Sasori approved of. Finally, he was beginning to understand.
Apologies for not being as benign as you assumed, Sasori thought, that virulent humor bubbling up inside him again. "It's simple. What I want from you is information."
"Information?"
"What are you, a parrot?"
"Hey! My name's Ryu, and I'm definitely not a parrot!"
"Then answer properly!" Sasori scowled. "Do not test my patience."
Ryu grumbled. "What kind of information?"
It was here Sasori finally jumped down to face Ryu. It irked him slightly that the teenage boy had a few inches over him, but he pushed that thought aside. As the clouds overshadowed the rising sun briefly, a vengeful glimmer entered his brown eyes, sending a shiver down Ryu's spine. "Information about this town, about Danzo... About the ANBU." Everything I could have gotten from Sai if he weren't such a brainwashed doll. And Yugao is guilty of being almost obsessively loyal to the ANBU commander. She wouldn't divulge anything helpful. He paused. "And perhaps the location of a wood merchant while you're at it."
The boy deliberated his demands. Then he said, "I think we'll have to talk to my grandmother. She knows a lot more than me about everything, especially the town and Danzo. But there's a lumber yard up north of town, almost at the base of the White Fang."
The... White Fang? Sasori schooled his face into a mask of indifference, though inwardly he was reeling. Did... Hatake leave a legacy here or something? The clouds drifted over the sun, and its rays hits Sasori's eyes for a brief moment, turning his world into a slash of blood red. Then he blinked, and the familiar scene of the grey morning was once again upon him.
"You okay? You blanked out for a sec." Ryu's face obscured his view all of a sudden.
Sasori nudged him away impatiently. "I'm fine. Don't touch me."
"Geez, sorry... jerk..." Ryu pointed at a tall mountain in the distance, one that was significant as it towered the surrounding mountain range. "Anyway, there's a lumberyard up around there somewhere. Just keep White Fang Mountain in sight and you can't miss it." He stroked his chin in thought. "I don't go up there a lot—it's too cold for me, even in the spring and summer—so I don't know if they're still in business. Especially with the state of this town..." He scuffed his worn boot on the dirt pathways. "I can take you to see Baba now, if you want."
There were still hours before the mission briefing.
Sasori nodded shortly. "Tell me about the town as we go."
"Well, okay." They walked side by side, Sasori keeping the pace slow so that Ryu wouldn't have to hobble after him. "Our town wasn't always like this. When I was a kid, it prospered. But then Danzo came, and our money and resources started to dwindle. And then the war started, and... everything's just going downhill faster than it was."
"And the government allowed such a thing to happen?" No wonder things are so shit here. Danzo's obviously been in charge for a long time.
Ryu chuckled resentfully. "Yep. We don't mean shit to them. Ever since we lost our last sheep to that damn epidemic, we haven't had anything to export into the city. Out here, we rely on wool trade and game to keep us going, but this mysterious disease suddenly broke out one day... So many animals were killed. Or had to be in order to stop contamination."
The sun spread its light across the forests and the mountains as a freckle-faced boy continued to wind a tale of corruption and tragedy to a red-haired assassin.
The sky rumbled as the clouds darkened, a gust of wind blowing through Konoha City, sending Rin's unbound hair everywhere. One hand on a broom, she used the other to push strands of hair back from her face, making a note to cut her hair soon. She had always liked it short.
Ding-a-ling!
"Rin-san!" The florist owner and Rin's employer, Yuzuko, poked her head out of the store, one side of her lovely black hair immediately pushed comically upward. She blinked, then beamed, "You should come inside! The gale will do the sweeping for you, hehe."
"Are you sure, Yuzuko-kacho?"
"Yep, yep! It's fine—come in already!" Under her breath, Yuzuko muttered as she looked up at the sky, "What a depressing sight..."
Inside the store, there was a coloring book and color pencils sitting on the corner of the counter, the book's spine pressed against the cash register. Yuzuko placed a stray yellow pencil into the tin container where all the other pencils were before, letting out a small sigh. With the storm that had been raging back and forth since yesterday, business had been slow. Not many people wanted to go outside on a windy day like this, much less for something as frivolous as flowers.
"We don't normally see storms like this during spring," Yuzuko remarked to Rin as the latter woman closed the door, locking it. "Come through the back—I'll get you something hot to drink, Rin-san!"
"O-oh, that's really too much—"
"Nonsense!" The black-haired woman wagged a finger, smiling slyly. "Don't make me pull the boss card on you..."
Rin caved, laughing. "Alright, alright. What do you have in store?"
"Loads! I have tea, hot chocolate, coffee, even cigarettes if you want." She took an imaginary drag, grinning. "They're good for stress relief, my dear!"
"I'll pass on the cigarettes, but coffee does sound nice," Rin opined (because Obito had tried them once, and swore never to touch them again after complaining about how they smelled so terrible). As she followed her new boss to the back room, she took one last glance out of the window, where pieces of paper and other assortments of trash were being swept up and away by the wind, drops of rain starting to fall heavily as well. I hope the weather clears up soon. I don't want to pick up Daichi and Hikari in this weather, but I don't want them to make them wait either. And wasn't Deidara staying in a port town? What if the storm was even wilder near the ocean compared to the city, which was further inland?
Her promised letter had yet to arrive, but Rin blamed the unexpected wild weather, not her friend. Assuming that the post office over there was even open, the movement of boats ferrying the mail back and forth from the mainland to the eastern archipelagos would undoubtedly be halted for the safety of the seamen.
In her mind, she liked to think that Deidara had already written a letter to her, and was just waiting for the right time to send it off.
As Yuzuko smoked her cigarette and Rin drank her hot coffee in the back room of the florist shop, others in Konoha were hiding out inside, too, unwilling to be caught up in the blowy storm.
In the local school, Hanabi was looking out the window, her brows furrowed as the rain poured, hitting the land harshly. Droplets of water ran down the window pane, Hanabi's eyes following their paths. They split off into intricate branches before disappearing past the windowsill. Despite her seeming calmness, her grip on her pencil was tight and terse.
"Hyuuga-chan," her teacher simpered from the front, her snake-like eyes shining spitefully behind her glasses. "I would advise you to keep your eyes on your paper, and perhaps you might land yourself in the top range."
Ah, right. It was her first exam—Koizumi-sensei had no idea of Hanabi's intellect, considering she didn't bother putting much effort into entering class discussions and frequently skipped out on doing homework.
"I'm already done."
"Don't show off, Hyuuga-chan. There's no way you can be done—the exam started fifteen minutes ago."
Hanabi harrumphed, blowing a strand of hair out of her face. "Like I said, I'm done, sensei."
The teacher's condescending smile twitched. "If you insist, then waste your time."
As her classmates used the remaining forty-five minutes to try and do as much of their exam as possible, Hanabi thought of her cousin, Neji. Once again, he had been spirited away somewhere. Except, this time, it wasn't of his own free will. That fact made her bite her lip, uneasy. Shizune said that Neji had been taken. Kidnapped. But who would do such a thing? The general public didn't even know of Neji's existence, meaning that the person responsible had to wield some substantial power in Konoha City to get their hands on the Zetsu boy. But who?
Why do I even care?
The question she asked herself sucked all the warmth from her cheeks, her ears suddenly feeling hot with an emotion she didn't want to face. She could hear her heart pounding between her ears, as if the organ had switched places with her brain.
She recalled the terrible way she had treated him—she'd been younger then, and had followed the example from members of the Main Family. But Neji had been strong, surpassing the low expectations that her father had placed on all Branch Family members. And that had further ostracized him from the clan...
But what could she do now?
For now, she simply double-checked her answers, the wind beating against the window as her heart sunk in uncertainty.
In a similarly structured classroom, Moegi's pen flew across her exam paper, fully immersed in her own work. If she looked out the window, she would be able to see a series of restaurants across the wide streets, where people were loitering around in an effort to escape the downpour.
It was there that Chihiro stood with her mentor, Kisame, underneath the overhanging tarp of a noodle shop, both of them wrapped up in winter clothing. It was a chilly start to spring, and the storm wasn't exactly helping with that.
"Mou, I haven't seen rain like this ages," Chihiro murmured.
Kisame grunted in agreement. "We used to get rain like this all the time in Kirigakure, though. It was cold, wet, and all around pretty miserable."
Chihiro offered a weak smile. "I'll bet. Thanks for taking me to lunch today, Kisame-sensei."
"Che! Don't sweat it, kid." Kisame rubbed the back of his neck, huffing. "Even I'm sick of the bland and boring lunches they serve at the centre..."
"Your order, sir!" the ramen chef called from across the counter, handing them their meals. They thanked him, and settled down in a cozy corner of the small restaurant. Above their table, a watercolor painting of a fearsome samurai warrior watched over them, his blade half-drawn from his sheathe and ready to face even the most fiercest of opponents. Chihiro glanced at it more than once, feeling the warrior's fiery eyes boring holes into the back of her neck.
"Isn't it cool?" It seemed that since Kisame and Chihiro were his only customers for the afternoon, the chef was up to having a chat. A cleaning rag in one hand, he gestured to the painting. "It's only a reproduction, though—the real painting is in some fancy museum somewhere, I bet."
"Who is it?" Kisame asked casually.
The chef shrugged. "I don't know," he admitted. "But I like to believe that he wards away evil spirits. Konoha has a rich samurai culture, y'know. I'm not sure about Kiri—" Kisame snorted. "—but samurai have always been part of our history." The ramen chef sighed, digging in his apron pocket and producing a clipped out newspaper article. "They disappeared one day, just after the death of the Fourth Hokage, Namikaze Minato."
"Disappeared?" Chihiro grew wide-eyed. "Like, all of them?"
"Yep. Every single last one of 'em—even the ones in training." He handed the newspaper clipping to Kisame, who took it with eyes gleaming of interest. "Enjoy your meal. Oh, and please return that to me after you finish reading."
"I'll leave it with the bowls," Kisame promised with a sharp-toothed grin.
"Ulp. Right." The chef wisely backed away, leaving them to eat in peace.
"What does it say, Kisame-sensei?" Chihiro asked, dabbing at her mouth with a napkin after a particularly messy mouthful of soup and noodles.
"Nothing much," the shark-man replied honestly as he turned the clipping over to inspect the other side. "Whoever wrote this seems to think that they left out of spite, though. Couldn't take the nation's dishonorable nature, and hid away. It was a great blow to Konoha—it seems the higher-ups tried to cover it up, but to no avail, heh. Not exactly what the people needed after their precious Hokage kicked the bucket." He was willing to bet that if Konohagakure hadn't been still recovering from recent wars with Iwa and Suna, another one would have likely started between Iwa and Konoha.
Wars were fickle like that.
"That's not very nice to say about Naruto's dad, sensei."
Kisame shrugged. "The dead are the dead."
A cold wind blew through the restaurant, subduing the both of them.
"Do you think the samurai will ever come back?" There was a click as Chihiro set her chopsticks down over her empty bowl. She looked up Kisame imploringly, and the man sighed.
"Honestly? They have no reason to. But I will tell you this: I've heard stories of them—they'll never abandon their own. If one of them comes calling, the others will always answer." Kisame picked his teeth, his belly full. "They have a motto—those who break the rules are scum, but those who abandon their comrades are worse than scum."
"Finally, the storm's cleared up!" Konohamaru grinned up at the sky, which had indeed stopped weeping. "We can go home!"
"Yeah." Udon rubbed at his nose. "If you can even call it that."
"Oh, chin up." Moegi shifted her backpack straps. "In my opinion, I'd take the refugee centre over Tsuki-Akatsuki any day."
"And the wilderness, too," the Sarutobi boy piped.
"Yeah, that. Come on, guys, let's go home." Moegi had her umbrella out, prepared to put it up again if the rain decided to start pouring once more.
They splashed in rain puddles as they took the road home, Konohamaru cackling as Moegi shrieked when he nearly drenched her. She started to whack him with her umbrella, and Udon sighed in fond exasperation. Then he noticed something strange.
Namely, Kakashi standing at a street food stand dressed as if he were about to go travelling somewhere.
"Is that Kakashi-san?" It seemed that Moegi had noticed, too, pausing in her abuse of Konohamaru. "Should we go say hi?"
"Why not?" Konohamaru nodded. "We haven't talked to that old pervert in a while, kore!"
"He's not old," Moegi pointed out as the trio approached the last Hatake. "Hi, Kakashi-san!"
The two boys echoed her greetings.
"Yo, Kakashi-san!"
"Hello, Kakashi-san."
"Hm?" Kakashi eye-smiled when he noticed their presence. "If it isn't the three amigos."
"Amigos?" Konohamaru scrunched up his nose in confusion.
"What can I say? I'm well-read." The masked man shrugged languidly. "Maa... You kids just passing by or do you need something?"
"Well, actually, we just came to say hello," Moegi admitted. "But it's always nice to see you. Are you... going somewhere?"
"Ah, you noticed." Kakashi patted her head, making her glance up at him quizzically. "Not much gets past you, ne, Moegi-chan?"
"Hey! We noticed, too, y'know!" Konohamaru protested.
Udon shot him a side glance. "Did you really?"
"W-well, I notice now, so..."
Moegi frowned up at Kakashi, who had turned his back on them to collect his order. It was steamed buns. "Don't dodge the question, Kakashi-san!" To her annoyance, Kakashi ignored her and started down the street. The kids followed him, though he didn't look the slightest bit irked at them.
"I was right," Kakashi mused. "Nothing really does get past you..." They must have seemed quite like an odd sight, judging by the curious passing looks that strangers gave them. They were standing right in the middle of the pathway, Kakashi sticking out like a sore thumb with his travel gear and a group of preteens surrounding him.
"Well?" prompted Udon when Kakashi didn't say anything else. "Are you really going somewhere?"
Kakashi passed his hand through his hair. "Normally, I'd tell you to mind your own business, but where I'm going may or may not affect all of us, so... I guess I'll ask you not to involve yourselves in current politics and hope for the best. If the city is raided, then you'll know that I failed." He said all of this while eye-smiling at the children.
"What?!" Three jaws dropped simultaneously like a cash register dinging out.
Moegi was the most flabbergasted out of all of them. "How can you just say something like that and expect us to go away?! This is do or die now!"
"I know." Kakashi was mild with them. "But did you know that someday the sun will expand and engulf this world? Sometimes, we can't control things. And right now, staying put and safe is the best option for you guys. Unless you have no other choice... don't get involved."
"Involved in what, exactly?" Udon pressed.
"You don't have to know until you do," replied Kakashi, breezily, striding away. "Take care! And tell Rin that I'm going to miss her cooking."
He didn't even tell Rin-san? Moegi exchanged a glance with her friends as the silver-haired man became a dot in the distance. That's so weird. Aren't they really close? This must be really important. If he didn't tell Rin-san, I don't think anyone except us has any idea of what he's up to, and that's only because he met us by chance!
"Anyone else get this really bad feeling?" Konohamaru blurted.
"Definitely," Udon and Moegi replied in unison.
Kakashi kept up his smiling facade for a solid minute before he finally relaxed his facial features, his expression becoming dull. He removed something from his jacket pocket. A detailed map of Konohagakure greeted him after unfolding the paper.
I guess it's time for our first rendezvous... Uchiha Kagami-chan.
By morning, the storm had cleared up, but not by much. It had stopped pouring, but the winds were still strong, sending waves slamming onto the docks. Trying not to feel too miserable, Deidara was sitting at the worktable in her room, messing with the mechanics of her prosthetic leg. There were two very, very tiny dents from where Akamaru had bit down on it, but that could be fixed with a little applied heat.
But when she had gotten up earlier than morning, sweating from nightmares, her prosthetic had cramped up somehow. Asuma had given her basic care instructions for the leg, so now she had it set down in front of her, a toolbox within reach.
Using a tiny screwdriver, she fiddled with some screws and cogs, enjoying the lilting, whimsical sound of gears clicking and clacking.
It reminded of the sound that the stage back at Iwa would make when the red curtains unfolded, and the lead songstress made a magnificent entrance complete with lights, music, and artificial fog billowing out toward the audience.
There was a satisfying click that made her smile. That ought to do it. A little more clumsily than she would have liked, she leaned back in her chair, fitting the leg's socket back to the stump of her leg. Then she stood, testing her balance and the leg's endurance. After walking a lap and then two more around her room, she stood at her study table again, staring out the window. Storm's still not letting up, huh...?
In the window, Deidara noticed her own reflection. She blinked in surprise. Her cheeks had filled out once again, and she gingerly graced her finger over the scar beneath her left eye, one half of it hidden by her hair. I almost look... the same as before.
Knuckles rapped upon her door. "Breakfast~!" Tamaki declared on the opposite side. "Come on, Deidara-san, or it'll get cold! Kazebaba-san has made tea for us as well!"
Deidara snorted. "I'm coming, I'm coming, yeah. Stop knocking already, Tamaki-san."
When she opened the door, Tamaki was already gone, and she heard fast-paced footsteps climbing down the stairs.
The downstairs room was as cozy as it had been last night, Deidara enjoying the warmth that her night clothes had trapped between the fabric and her skin. Kiba was already eating, devouring pancake by pancake in a famished frenzy. Tamaki was tucking in her chair and reaching for the teapot, making idle chatter with the wizened Kazebaba and her fat white tomcat.
The teapot made an interesting sound that reminded Deidara of bubbles. It was almost music to her ears, but she said nothing of it, only giving them a sincere "morning" before taking a seat next to Tamaki (and opposite Kiba, to the latter's annoyance).
"Good morning, Deidara-san," Kazebaba returned her greeting earnestly as she buttered her toast. "I hope you had a nice sleep."
She could still feel the claws ripping through her flesh sometimes. "Yeah." Deidara took a slice of toast from the basket in the middle of the table, buttering it with the same condiment that Kazebaba was eating hers with. It's still warm, she realized with a start. Really, really warm... Do they even have a toaster, though? Discreetly, she glanced around the room. There was no sign that the building even had electricity. And even if it did, the storm outside was wild enough to cut it off. She chalked it up to it just being an unusual morning, and dug in.
The marmalade was delicious, and the bread actually came apart very easily yet somehow retained the crunch. Amazed, she looked at Kazebaba. Her eyes were twinkling knowingly.
Suddenly, she felt naked, and she self-consciously ducked her head a little, her brow lowered in a slight frown as she pretended to absorb herself in examining the crumbs on her plate.
"So," Tamaki tried to start a proper conversation, "Does anyone have any plans for today...?"
A noncommittal grunt from both Deidara and Kiba.
"So that's how it is," the brown-haired girl muttered. "Okay then..." Tough crowd...
"Whatever I'm gonna do," Kiba declared. "I hope I get left alone long enough to do it." His barbed words were obviously directed at Deidara, who rolled her eyes and scoffed.
"Subtle," she said dryly. "If it makes you feel any better, I'm not exactly weeping over your soon-to-be absence, hm."
Akamaru whined, feeling the tension.
Kazebaba smiled, her eyes closing. "Now, now, let's not fight this early in the morning. I do hope you children sort this out soon. Hmm..." She hummed, taking a second slice of toast.
Sort this out? Deidara and Kiba eyed each other from across the table, neither of them hiding their mutual dislike. Yeah, right! The only way I'll ever get some sense into that thick skull of his is if I beat it in, hm!
Kiba pushed his chair back. "Can I be excused? Thanks. Come on, Akamaru, we're going out."
"In this weather?" Tamaki went wide-eyed. "Kiba, you can't!"
"S'fine, Tamaki-chan!" Kiba waved her off. "I won't go far, and I'll be careful. Plus, I have my pal with me." His gaze slid over to Deidara, who looked positively indifferent about the whole exchange. "No thanks to a certain someone."
Deidara bared her teeth in a sneer, making her scorn for him more evident than ever.
"Kazebaba, do something!" pleaded Tamaki.
The old lady was sipping her tea calmly. "Let him go, Tamaki-chan. He'll be back."
"I always am," Kiba added. "See, Tamaki? Even the old lady approves. There's nothing to worry about. Be back soon!"
Tamaki slumped in her chair as the wooden front door opened before slamming shut. "Great..."
Deidara had an eyebrow raised at Kazebaba. "Is it really okay for him to out like that, hm?"
Kazebaba laughed. "Ohohoho... Why, dear, are you worried?"
"Tch! Don't misinterpret my doubt for worry, hm!" Deidara shimmied the hair-tie she had around her wrist to her fingers. Then she tied her hair up into her usual ponytail, leaving the bottom layer of hair down. "I don't have time to be worried about that kid, anyway. I'm going to take things off my schedule." The final alteration to her appearance was pinning her bangs back with two clips she kept in her pajama pants pocket, revealing a cloudy eye with a hideous scar beneath it. With that, she left the table. "Excuse me..."
It was just Tamaki and Kazebaba now.
"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Tamaki asked the old woman.
Kazebaba smiled into her teacup. "I don't know. It all depends on the results it produces, doesn't it?"