Chapter 5: Neophyte
"She's to do this by herself. There will be absolutely no aid given to her, no matter what happens," Itachi's voice projected over the training field. He was excited, Sika decided, with that strange undertone to his voice. The Akatsuki leader cast a sideways glance at Hidan, who stood leaning up against the building.
"What?" The immortal man asked, irritated, "you have no faith in me, seriously."
His leader didn't reply.
Kisame would officiate, and as he stepped up, he spoke to both parties. "This fight will have no hindrances. If you have it on your person, use it. Do either of you have any issues with the rules?"
Kisame turned to his partner, Itachi shook his head, he had no problem.
Kisame then turned to his student, and he cast her a look she couldn't read. Sika chewed her cheek, her eyes flicking over her competition, her teacher standing between them, and the spectators on the shaded porch nearby. It was noon and the summer sun was heating up.
"I'm not betting on this shit with you, you bastard," she heard Hidan speak in a poor attempt to be quiet.
"You're insufferable," the older immortal muttered.
She'd been too cocky, Sika decided, wayyyy too cocky.
Glancing down at her shadow and then back up at her opponent, she decided it was too late now. "Fine with me."
"Begin!" Kisame bellowed, jumping back from the soggy ground of the training field and landing with a thump not far away from his peers.
Immediately, Sika grabbed for her katana holstered on her back, drawing it swiftly to knock down a group of kunai knives thrown at her torso. They were a distraction though, as soon as her eyes focused on the projectiles, Itachi moved. No sooner had she knocked the knives away, Itachi was there.
He was so fast, Sika couldn't believe it. He was there, and then he wasn't again, only to reappear behind her. His elbow came down between her shoulder blades, she went down, redirecting the strike she'd prepared towards his legs, but Itachi was faster yet still, and landed a kick that she was barely able to block. He sent her flying, but using chakra she was able to stop herself short of crashing and got on her feet.
Don't look at his eyes, don't look at his eyes, don't look at his eyes, Sika repeated over and over, don't look at his eyes, keeping her own eyes low.
Sika found a place on his chest and focused. There, she'd hit him there.
She drew two things from the split second they'd been engaged. One, Itachi was fast. Faster than she was. Two, she couldn't fight him with taijutsu. He could hit her harder than she could counter, and even if it wouldn't hurt for long, it was a good way to lose.
As quick as she could, Sika wove hand signs and pulled her chakra. She felt it tug deep inside of her, her training hadn't left her with much left over to use in this fight, and it wasn't a good sort of tug. From the ground, a quiet sucking omitted from the soil, and under her feet Sika could feel the grassy mush turning to mud. She and Kisame had been using this training ground for weeks and it was pretty much water logged. Plenty of water to use for her jutsu.
From the earth behind her sprung a fluid, clear serpent. It roared as it cut through the air, spraying mist behind it as it searched for its target.
Not to be underestimated, Itachi threw from his mouth a grand fireball. Sika was sure her dragon could swallow it, fizzle it out like nothing. After that she could reform the head or cast another, but when the two collided head on, both attacks burst. The resulting explosion had Sika covering her eyes, the brightness over shone the roar and hiss that followed. When she looked back at her opponent, the battle field was covered in a thin and quickly dissipating mist.
This was unplanned, but okay. Let's roll with it.
Sika decided to rush him, disregarding her previous thought, unsure if that decision was good or bad. She wove hand signs, creating three clones of herself that split off from the path of the original. When the visibility returned, however, the clones were not in place. All three clones were even with her opponent, the original plan had been to attack him from all sides, but now or never.
Her clones closed in, but with his red eyes spinning, Itachi knew that the original wasn't with them. These were academy grade clones, they were practically transparent anyway. In the time it took for him to analyze, Sika neared the Akatsuki leader with her blade drawn once again.
She could feel her heartbeat in her throat. Her pulse rung so loudly in her ears she couldn't hear anything besides the rushing of blood. She screamed when she came down on him, unable to hold it in any longer. The excitement, the adrenaline, the terror, all fighting for just one second of feeling.
"Take him down, Sika," something inside her was shouting over her own voice, "Make every movement count."
She could do that. She would do that.
She swung, the blade of her katana and split him in half, her left foot planting firmly into the mud, her right sliding, guiding her blade with her weight. No sooner had her blade cleared the man's body did it disappear in a cloud of smoke.
A clone.
He'd had the same idea.
She turned just in time to block another hit to her back. His fist connected with her forearm as she grabbed for his wrist. She didn't have enough power to throw him, but as she tore her arm she'd used to block away, she pulled him towards her and used the leverage to reel back and mule kick him with both feet in the chest.
She ended up scrambling to the ground, barely juggling her sword in a way that didn't remove her flesh from her thigh. When she stood up and spun around several feet away, the Akatsuki leader was hunched over and breathing a little ragged.
"Kill him, do it Sika!" The voice from earlier shouted. That was Hidan's voice, she realized. He was cheering for her. That was a little harsh, she thought, but he was right. She should attack Itachi while he was recovering.
She wove hand signs again and this time she could feel water welling where chakra was made. Her cheeks puffed, her throat stretched and finally her chest expanded, and she spat out a ball of water that quickly morphed its way into the shape of a shark.
The liquid monster bore its teeth at its adversary, it's aim straight and true and heading for Itachi. The air smelt heavily like a storm was brewing, and both of their cloths were moist already. When the shark bomb exploded, Itachi should have been knocked back, he should have taken on water and damage. Instead, in a puff of white smoke, Sika's shark hit nothing more than a tree branch. The replacement jutsu.
Itachi appeared next to her, so fast Sika didn't even have time to turn her head to look. The last thing she saw before she went sliding across the muddy ground was the leader's foot about an inch from her face. Her blade fell from her hand.
When she opened her eyes, determined to stand and fight still, Itachi was standing over here, a hand sign held on his left hand and her katana in her left. He'd cut her to pieces or incinerate her if she moved. She wasn't sure how well she'd heal from either of those.
She swallowed hard.
"Do you surrender?" Kisame called.
Sika's eyes glanced in every direction. He was faster than her, before she could make a sign or go for a weapon, she probably wouldn't have a hand. God, he was so fast. They hadn't been fighting for fifteen minutes, and she was already out of options. He'd countered every attack she'd thrown at him, and the only hit she did land had been in a desperate to get away. He was only a bit winded, and he was most certainly holding out on her.
She was laying in the mud, panting hard and shaking in excited fear.
He was towering over her, his face void of emotion as usual.
"I don't," Sika insisted. There had to be something. All couldn't be lost.
"What could you possibly do?" The Akatsuki leader spoke levely. Sika couldn't answer him.
"Do you surrender, Sika?" Kisame asked again.
The word had to be forced out of her mouth, but it came. "Yes."
Sika lay her head back, grinding her hair into the mud and covered her eyes with her hands. This was unbelievable. There was no way she'd be accepted if she couldn't even last fifteen minutes. She couldn't see Itachi's face and she didn't want to.
"You will meet me in my office in two hours," came Itachi's empty voice. Sika nodded instead of replying. She heard Itachi's footsteps leaving through the sloppy ground, and someone else approached her.
"That was pathetic."
Sika groaned. "Please just leave me here to die, would you?"
"No can do," Hidan rejected, "we're leaving right after you and red eyes get done with your little chat."
Sika groaned again and moved her hands away from her eyes. The silver haired man stood above her, hands on his hips and a grin set on his features. He extended a hand to her. "Your face is caked with mud."
Sika took his hand and let him help to pull her to her feet. She still had some lingering soreness from being kicked, and chakra exhaustion probably wasn't far off, but she could stand and begin to pull clumps of mud from her hair.
Kakuzu still stood against the wall. It was kind of hard to tell what he was feeling because of the mask he wore, but his eyes were hard and judgmental. They regarded each other for just a moment before the emerald eyed man huffed. He turned his back to his partner and to Sika, walking away and disappearing back into the house.
"Never mind that jackass, he's just pissed because he lost a bet," Hidan insisted, wiping some mud off of his hand and on to his pants.
"I thought you weren't gonna wager on me," Sika asked, furrowing her eyebrows in confusion.
"I didn't. Kisame bet with him though, he bet a hundred bucks that you wouldn't be able to land three hits, and you only hit him once," Hidan informed, "Kisame was pissed."
"Kisame bet on me? Really?" Sika asked in disbelief. Her teacher had really had that much faith in her against someone like Itachi?
Hidan rolled his eyes and shifted his weight to his left, "Yeah, and he's going to hell for it. Money is a sin no matter how you look at it. Hey, remind me, I've got a book for you about lesser sins."
"Yeah, sure, okay, hey, have you seen my katana?" The tawny haired girl asked in a hurry. She clutched for the sheath, finding it still strapped to her but the blade missing.
It was Hidan's turn to look surprised. "Yeah, Itachi look it, but-"
Sika revolved face and ran, sprinting the last few feet before jumping up on to the porch and taking off through the house. She didn't care if she was tracking mud everywhere, she needed to find her teacher. She ran to his room first, her feet pounding on the ancient hardwood floors, but when he wasn't there, or in the kitchen, the drawing room, or the sun room, she knew immediately where he'd gone.
Panting even harder than she had after the fight, Sika's feet finally came to rest outside Itachi's door. She doubled over, putting her hands on her knees to catch her breathe. She could see the mud covering the back of her legs and she could feel it hardening in her hair and on her cloths. She was also covered in sweat, she realized, as it beaded down her forehead. She stood up, putting her hands on the small of her back for extra support, and breathed in deep. She was able to stand when she rasped on the wood frame of rice paper door, her chest no longer heaving.
"Enter," Itachi droned. Sika slid open the door.
"You are an hour and forty five minutes early," the Uchiha spoke, looking up from the low tea table that previously doubled as a desk. All of the leaders paperwork had been packed up and assumably put in the black leather bag near the door. Sika nearly tripped over it as she stepped into the room. Today, the leader was using the tea table for its intended purpose.
Kisame sat with him, a cup of tea in front of him as well. Samehada leaned on a wall not far away, and each of the men donned their red clouded cloak.
"I know, and I know I'm muddy, and gross, and whatever," she stammered, "but I need to talk to Kisame."
The leader's gaze flicked from her to his partner and then back to her. "Ah."
"What is it?" The blue skinned men asked, not particularly surprised or annoyed. She'd thought he'd be annoyed.
"I came to ask you a question," she confessed, a certain urgency to her voice, "Hidan told me about-oh, whatever. Did you really think I could do it? Did you really think that?"
Kisame sat back and thought long and hard what he was going to say. It was very clear to him that Sika had not only misinterpreted the bet as something other than a mindless chance at making money, but she'd also looked way too far into it. He knew a little about her, he knew she was an orphan, and he knew what it was like to think your teacher cared and believed in you. Despite whatever it did to her feelings Kisame had to tell her the truth, but he might sugar coat it just a little.
"Well," he drawled, "It was just a bet, not a reflection on you. Besides, it won't affect your consideration to the group."
"I see," She swallowed hard. She directed her attention down at her hands, resting on her thighs. She got it now. He hadn't had faith in her after all.
Kisame had to stop again and think. He hadn't meant to kill her confidence, "I've already told you what I think. No one expected you to win in a fight with Itachi anyway."
Of course not. Sika knew that. She drew in a sharp breath and held it a moment before she exhaled slowly.
"Tell me," Itachi began, picking up the coat tails of their conversation, "what is your goal, Sika?"
"My goal?" She mocked, looking up again. It was her turn to think. "I don't suppose I have one."
"I understood that your goal was to find your father. That isn't true?" Itachi questioned.
"Well, yes, I want to find him. I always have, but that's a different kind of bar to reach," Sika tried to explain, but she found it difficult. If she never achieved that goal, would it be upsetting? If she was going to be perfectly honest with herself, her father had always seemed like a far off fantasy land. Like he was unreachable. Even now, with hired help, it didn't seem like a reality.
Itachi continued. "People who join Akatsuki must be willing to give up their time, to give up their personal lives. I am, first and foremost, a member of Akatsuki. I am a shinobi, an Uchiha and a man second. Do you understand what I'm saying?"
Sika nodded. Itachi demanded devotion above all else.
"Being a member of this organization asks you to disregard your own self and act for the whole. You might be asked to do things that is against your moral code. You might be asked to commit a sin in your religion. Do you still follow me?" Itachi asked, unmoving.
"I do," Sika agreed.
Itachi took a sip of his tea and paused for a moment. His eyes focused down on the steaming cup between his hands.
"You didn't give me much time to consider your skills. I did notice your tactical reasoning is all over the place. Also, your slow, you lack implosion, not to mention, you didn't know when to give up," Itachi scolded her in a condemning tone that had Sika ducking her head in shame. From his side, he pulled her katana, now free of mud, and lay it gently in the table in front of him. "But you held on longer than I originally thought. I suppose it'd be a waste of resources to reject you."
Immediately Sika's head snapped up. She couldn't tell if he was being positive or condescending.
"You know, she did learn B ranked ninjutsu without prior training. I think if she had more time, she would have been better. After all, she's used to sparring with me," Kisame spoke carefully and quietly. He was sticking his neck out for her. Sika couldn't believe her ears. Itachi seemed to consider that. He sighed and focused on his cup again, leaving the room silent for a few moments.
"I suppose there will be more time for more training. From the little I've seen, I don't think that your job won't be that hard for you."
Sika sat still, her gaze still focused on the Akatsuki leader. She waited for the rejection or the acceptance. With his tone and the apparent emotional range of a teaspoon, Sika wasn't exactly sure what to make of his words. The trio shared a sort of uncomfortable silence. Itachi, who thought he'd been very clear, intern waited for her response.
"Sika," Kisame spoke, clearly the only one aware of what was going on, "he just let you in."
"Oh!" She exclaimed, her eyes lighting up and her shoulders straightening, "oh, my god, thank you so much!"
"You're most welcome," the black haired man droned, "I have a folder for you, contained is a list of rules, a list of formal policies and a paper with a summoning seal that you're required to tattoo somewhere on your body. The back of the earlobe is a very popular place. I have here a summoning contract."
From his cloak, Itachi produced a hunter green scroll, decorated with golden accents and sealed with a bit of purple wax. Quickly and quietly, he peeled the wax from the page and unwound it. The scroll rolled off of the table and on to the floor, each rust colored, brown name staining it page to leave behind life as they knew it to become another watchdog in the pack. Sika tried not to think about how many names on this list no longer belonged to anyone living. The scroll had almost undone itself by the time a blank space appeared.
"You sign your in blood," Itachi instructed, and motioned Sika over. The girl stood up, wandered over, and knelt down on an unoccupied seat at the table. She grabbed her sword and sliced one finger open on the sharp edge.
Sika prided herself on her calligraphy skills. She'd learned while growing up to write elegantly, and her name was the nicest looking on the list.
"Do you have any other questions?" Itachi asked, raising a fist up to his mouth to stifle a cough.
"Just one, if you don't mind," Sika replied, sticking her bleeding finger into her mouth, "what is the purpose of this organization? Er, rather, what are we hoping to achieve?"
That seemed to disturb Itachi a little. Alright, so this was a personal question.
"Akatsuki was created in order to protect those precious to us," he began carefully. He stopped short, set his jaw on edge for a moment and then continued in a vague sort of tone, "if the world improves because of our efforts, then that's a plus too."
He had someone he was looking out for. That was pretty noble of him.
"I had you figured all wrong," Sika confessed, smiling if only slightly.
"Most people do."
Five hours down the road, the traditional Japanese palace was nothing but a memory. She'd slung her backpack on her back and trotted after Kakuzu and Hidan, following them back up the road they'd came and out of town.
The walking wasn't bad and the scenery was nice, for being in the land of lighting that is. Usually the violent storms that were the namesake of the country destroyed everything in their path, but this area was surprisingly nice. Any long snapped off trees became a home for plants and animals, and the drainage ditches flowed into vast, sparkling lakes.
Her traveling partners had been quiet. Kakuzu lead the group with his eyes focused south. He figured they'd reach grass country in a week, maybe ten days, and he was intent on making it there on time.
Hidan didn't much seem to care. He was busy looking around to, studying the landscape and observing it in quiet judgement. Sika wasn't sure what to make of that.
"You know, I've been thinking," Hidan began after a particularly long silence.
"Oh no," Sika snickered, earning her an irritated glare.
"Shut up and let me talk," Hidan continued anyway. "I think you could have beat red eyes if you'd been trained worth a shit."
"Kisame trained me for my affinity. Itachi has a fire affinity right? I should have-" Sika tried to explain but was cut off.
"No, that's not what I mean," Hidan interrupted, He'd attracted Kakuzu's attention now. "I mean he didn't train you to fight. You did drills. He trained you to spar. Nobody ever got hurt when you trained, right? That's the issue."
"Is that why you were screaming-Er, encouraging me loudly to kill Itachi?" Sika asked, wincing as she stepped on a particularly sharp rock.
"What are you talking about?" The male Jashinist asked, looking back at her confused.
"That wasn't you? I swear to god I heard your voice," Sika pressed.
"Nobody said anything while you guys fought," he looked very serious for a moment and then he scoffed, smirking, "bastard would have bit my head off if I had, and then I would have had to kick his ass."
Sika furrowed her eyebrows. She'd been sure that was Hidan's voice.
"Anyway, we're off topic. I'm gonna teach you to kick everybody's ass in one hit," Hidan's smirk widened.
"One hit?" Sika mocked, the voice seemingly forgotten.
"Yeah. All you gotta do is draw a prayer circle and get a little of the enemy's blood. Stab yourself somewhere vital and it's all over," he could see stars in his little convert's eyes.
"Did you design it?" Sika asked, jogging up closer to him.
"Nah, I found it in some old scripture book. Works pretty well though."
Sika mulled that over. Kill her enemy in one hit? Kill somebody in just one move? That sounded too good to be true. Yeah, okay, she had to stab herself, but it wasn't like she wasn't suicidal to begin with.
"Oh, shit, Sika," Hidan exclaimed suddenly, looking over at her, " It's probably a good idea for you to make an offering as soon as possible. Or else you won't be able to keep your immortality. We can test the jutsu out in the next town."
"Okay," she replied. Honestly though, she'd have to think about that one. She wasn't used to this immortality thing, and she still wasn't sure if she wanted to be.
The trio stopped at the first sign of civilization they stumbled upon somewhere deep in the land of hot water. Civilization meant people, Hidan insisted, and people meant sacrifices.
He was going to show her his technique as soon as night fell (they needed cover), but first they needed to get settled into their hotel.
The fat woman at the desk had no issues renting her room out to a pair of ninja, but their traveling companion, she said, not a chance.
"I'm sorry, you two can go right ahead but I just can't have her tracking dirt through my halls," the woman said around her cigarette, "Wash your feet off and then you can go up."
Simultaneously, both Akatsuki men turned around to look at Sika's feet. She was pretty dirty to begin with. She'd never showered after he fight with her newfound leader, but her feet were by far the worst. Mud clung to her skin all the way up to her knees, but her soles were completely black.
"Where are your shoes?" Kakuzu demanded.
"I don't have any," Sika replied, sort of sheepish. Really? Had neither of them noticed until now?
Kakuzu groaned and instructed his complaining partner to chaperone her as she tried to scrub the dirt from her skin. He still didn't trust her, even if it was only to sneak around back and use the hotel's hose. The water was clear when it left the nozzle, but by the time it hit the grass it was black.
Satisfied she'd gotten as clean as she could without an actual warm shower, Sika and Hidan went up to find the room.
Hot water country, Sika knew, used to be a ninja village. She'd read about it in Ninja Monthly when it disbanded some years ago and became a tourist trap. She also knew her friend harbored a certain contempt for the country he once called home, because he refused to shut up about it.
Every little thing about everything pissed him off. Sika could even hear him bitching about "the great implications of this" through the bathroom door and over the shower running.
"Seriously, this place is a disgrace. People were meant to destroy. Ninja were meant to kill, not serve sweaty tourists, I mean, that right there in condemning," Hidan ranted, looking disapprovingly out the room's picture window.
"I've heard it all before," Kakuzu grumbled, looking quite pissed off himself, "shut your trap."
"I'm really hungry," Sika offered, hoping one of them would agree to take her to eat just to get away from the other. She had no such luck.
"I'd like to kill the guy that thought this tourist trap shit up. Man, I'd hang him with his own intestines, I'd rip his kidneys out and feed them to him, I'd-"
"Hidan!" Kakuzu bellowed, "enough!"
"Tch! As if you understood!" Hidan hissed, turning back to the window, "your shitty ass village kicked your ass out! Like hell if you understood the principles of what happened here."
Kakuzu looked murderous. He stood up, knife in hand and ready to gut the priest like a trout. Sika noticed. She knew she couldn't stop the emerald eyed man, but maybe she could distract him.
"Kakuzu," she tread carefully, stopping her hand short if touching his shoulder. She liked her fingers, she wanted to keep them.
"What is it?" He growled, turning to face her, knife still bared like a single, metal fang.
"Well uh, I was just wondering if maybe you'd spar with me or something, Kisame said I should-" She should have known better, she decided after narrowly missing the back of his hand as he went to slap her. She was going to say her former teacher wanted her to stay on top of her training. She might not have to spar, this looked like it was going to turn into a real fight.
"What's with you?" she demanded.
"I'm going backwards on this little game of hide and go seek. I don't think you realize how much the opportunity cost of me to go looking for your father is, or rather, how much it's not making me now that Itachi's made this little endeavor free for you. I don't have any extra time to waste on you," the miser barked, his eyes hard and hateful. She was a pest, the bad apple in his barrel. She was like a swarm of locust, except worse.
That was offensive. Sika scoffed. "It's too god damn bad you're stuck with me!"
"I'd like to see both of you pests rot in a hole," he snarled. She could see his face twist in irritation under the mask and his hand clenched into a fist.
"What crawled up your ass and died?" Sika muttered, backing off. She'd sized him up and Sika knew she couldn't take him.
"Sika, let's just go, this old bastard is so senile he'd pick a fight with a rock," Hidan growled crossing the room to take her by the wrist. She tried to struggle free, she didn't need to be drug, but he refused.
"A rock would be more pleasant," kakuzu suggested as Hidan glowered at him, dragging Sika out the door in a death grip. She finally struggled free from his grip in the lobby of the hotel, after nearly falling down a flight of stairs.
They spilled out into the street, her trailing after him as he blazed a path though the people. They stopped at the first food stand they found and bought dinner. It happened to be a fried meat stand and Sika was all for protein. She'd snatched a third skewer of pork out of his hand before he'd even finished with his first.
"Do you even chew?" He asked her dryly, she shook her head and she thought he might have called her a smart ass though a scoff.
"How am I gonna know who's good to sacrifice?" She asked around a bite of food. He took a second to chew before he answered.
"There isn't like, a set thing that lord Jashin looks for in an offering. The object is offering, not even necessarily a sacrifice. Most Jashinists just make item offerings, or they sacrifice an animal. It's all in your intent."
"So then why am I after a person?" She asked, furrowing her eyebrows. She didn't really want to kill anyone if it wasn't her job. Something about killing for religion rubbed her the wrong way. If she killed for Akatsuki, it was on Itachi's hands.
That was a sin, she realized, killing for the equivalent to money. This was getting difficult.
"Because I'm not sure if you'd get to stay alive if you didn't. I was the only immortal. I don't know if human sacrifices are keeping me alive, but I don't want to quit and find out," he huffed, holding up a stick of his meat so she couldn't steal it from him. She'd had four already and he was barely on his second.
"Are you that afraid to die?" She asked brashly. He didn't even flinch.
"No, I'm afraid to piss off my god. You should be too," he replied, casting her a sideways glare.
That was fair, Sika decided, grabbing for the food held above her head. He let her have it and decided to procure them another food source. This time it was eel and then dango further down the street.
"I was thinking maybe I should sacrifice a criminal," Sika mused, munching on the skinny fish. She found a package of barbecue sauce on the side of another stand and drenched it in it. The salt in condiments was no good according to her cheap ass madame, Sika was gonna live this up while she had the chance. Hidan made another face at her.
"Yeah, sure. Just remember we're criminals," he grunted, handing her the rest of his food. He wasn't hungry anymore.
"No, your a criminal," she corrected, taking possession of the food on a stick, "I'm only sort of a criminal."
He rolled his eyes.
They spent the rest of the time until sundown doing laps of the small village. It was centered around an extravagant bath house and had a sizable red light district, something they both wanted to avoid. When night fell, the town glowed, every shop with its own neon, but even then it only lit so much.
Down one of the grungy side alleyways between a bar and a brothel, the Jashinists cruised for the right person to meet their need. They hadn't gone into the red light district, but this narrow passage was on its border. Hidan wasn't really concerned with finding her criminal like she'd wanted, any punk that fell out of these buildings would do. Smoke billowed out the windows to his right and the obnoxious noises to his left was driving him nuts. The sooner they got out of here the better.
A door up ahead swung open and a man about their age stepped out to smoke a cigarette. His mop of black hairs shielding his features from view. He didn't even look up at them. His shirt was off and the soft glow of pink lights cast out into the alley. That room let out of a brothel, and as they passed, Sika could plainly see a naked woman sitting up on the room's bed, her head in her hands.
Maybe a criminal wasn't what she should be looking for. Maybe she should be looking fur sinners instead. That girl had sold herself for sex, against her will but she'd still done it, and this man had bought. Sika wasn't sure if buying send was as bad as selling it in the eyes of her lord, but in her eyes, he was more guilty than her.
Sika nudged her partner in crime. He looked over at her from the corner of his eye, and without further conversation, Sika turned and blasted the stranger with a swift punch to his jugular. He didn't exactly go flying, but it was enough to knock him to the ground and out his cigarette.
"What the hell?" He shouted horsely, causing her to jump him, covering his mouth and pinching his nose in attempt to deprive him of air. He thrashed, trying desperately to kick, slap, hit, bite, whatever it took to get her off of him.
Sika decided to straddle him, using either of her knees to pin down his biceps, but his lower arms still seized, punching her wherever he could gain ground. The leg, the hip, the side, a particularly hard blow to the stomach winded her, but not enough for her to give up.
"Don't kill him right away!" Hidan shouted, standing back from them.
Sika swore and took her hand off his mouth. Immediately, the man started screaming, so she was forced to remove her hand from his nose to cover his mouth.
The whore in the hotel room was looking at them through tear stained eyes. Hidan stood beyond the door, unable to see in the room and unable to be seen. Sika looked up, eyes searching for an object to subdue the man with when their gaze meet. Something passed between them, something knowing and concerned. Sika's attention flicked down as the man tried to club her with a closed fist, she clicked her tongue in annoyance and moved to pin his hand to the ground and gave his face a rough shove. When she looked up again, the girl was collecting her robe from the ground, quietly excusing herself and disappearing behind the closed door.
Good, Sika thought, less interference.
"God damn it," Hidan swore, looking behind him, "somebody's coming."
So, without help, Sika drug the man inside the room by his hair and Hidan shut the door behind him.
"Okay," Hidan began, pulling his pike from his cloak. He cast it out, the metal spear unnesting from itself and locking into place. "Here, draw a rosary circle with your blood."
He handed her the pike but she rejected it in favor of unsheathing her sword. It was sort of difficult to maneuver the blade with the man screaming and struggling. She'd threw her meager weight around, but it hadn't been enough to stop him from freaking out. Eventually Hidan just out right clubbed him with a closed fist, knocking him down to a whining mess on the floor. Both people towering over him held weapons, and the man was sure he knew what they intended to do with them. He submitted, his fear having got the best of him for a moment.
Sika stood still, looking over her arm thoughtfully before she just decided to slice down from her shoulder to her elbow in a single straight line, unable to use her wrists since Kakuzu's threads still covered them.
She'd thought about doing that for so long.
Blood ran from her vein, painting her arm a dark crimson that ran in tendrils down to the floor where it pooled, stray droplets landing on her soon to be victims neck and unclothed back. Under the strange lighting, her blood looked almost black. Her blade was so sharp she hadn't even felt it, but it stung in the open air.
Thinking it easier to use her foot than her hand, the bottoms of her bare feet drug through the puddle and spread her life force in to a lopsided circle. The triangle was better shaped though, all sides perfectly equal.
"Oh god, oh lord, please," the man lying at her feet whimpered, "please don't kill me, I'll do whatever you want. Anything!"
Looking down at this man, Sika couldn't help but feel a little conflicted. It was too late for him, she wasn't going to go back on this just because something inside her felt off. If she was going to be honest with herself, she didn't feel guilty or even the least bit bad for him. She thought maybe the feeling in the pit of her stomach was hesitance, but then, she realized, it was excitement.
Her next move was to cut the man's cheek. He shrieked, his head snapping sideways and tried in vain to get away. He shot up, getting quickly to his feet but Sika still had a strong grip on his hair and with a hard yank she had him bent over with her sword on the back of his neck, threatening to end his worthless life where he stood.
"If you scream, I'll kill you. If you move, I'll kill you," her voice was cold and harsh. The man whimpered louder, his nose beginning to run. His chest heaved, hyperventilating, and then Sika realized he was crying.
It perked her interest, but she didn't have any second thoughts. Slowly, she moved the edge away from his neck and swiveled her sword from between her thumb and pointer finger to angle it downward pointing the opposite way and freeing up her thumb to swipe across the man's cheek to bring his blood to her lips.
Hidan loomed nearby, watching her intently but unwilling to hold her hand. She'd been listening, that much was clear, she never even so much as looked at him for reassurance.
She marveled as her skin bloomed black under the rose colored lighting, outlining her bones. She touched herself, but her skin didn't feel any different. Her hands highlighted each of the tiny bones in each of her fingers. She could see her ribs, and for once it wasn't because she was skinny.
A surge excitement overtook her. The usual calm lull of her mind was gone, replaced by the prickling feeling of murderous intent. This man was weeping, praying to his heathen God and begging her for his life but it all fell on deaf ears. She literally couldn't hear him over her pulse beating loud. A smile crept on to her face and she licked her lips, her breath coming in hard. She sucked in air and held it. Swiveling her wrist and raising the honed edge above her head, she turned her aim to herself.
Kill him. Kill him. Kill him, kill him, kill him!
Her body forced her to exhale when the sword finally lodged itself in her abdomen. Pain bubbled to the surface, following her blood as it flowed out over her skin. It soaked her bandeau, running over the curve of her breasts and down her stomach until it soaked into her shorts. Sika's voice caught in her throat. It hadn't even gone all the way though.
He knees locked on their own as her hand fell from the man's hair. She could see him, writhing in pain on the ground and clutching his chest as if he'd been the one stabbed. She couldn't even hear her blood pump anymore, only silence. Had she struck her own heart?
Hidan was there at her side, moving quickly to place her now free hand on the hilt of her katana. Words fell from his lips but she couldn't hear them. He gave the katana a shove, sparking spikes of pain though her, saying something else she still couldn't hear.
He gave it another shove, sending it driving deeper into her skin, in her muscles, deep into her very being. It needed to go all the way through her, she realized.
She wasn't sure if she could do it.
She felt week and the ache radiated through her chest. It stemmed like a vine, twisting around her internal organs and branching out to pulse and throb harder with every passing second. She realized she was panting, her breathing hitching every few seconds in a near strangle. Still, she had to try.
She tightened her grip the best she could and pulled down towards herself. The pressure was unbelievable. The sharp tip of her katana had already found its way down into her gut. She felt blood inside, welling up and filling her abdomen with internal bleeding, she could feel the coolness of the blade rapidly warming via her body heat and she could feel a cry of pain run through her and out her mouth. She was sure it'd sliced her stomach and her lungs, breathing was quickly becoming impossible. Her arms shook wildly, the lack of oxygen in her pounding blood stream was unable to power her movement. With one last fast, rigid movement, she pulled down once in a last hope attempt to finish the job.
Suddenly it breached her, erupting out of her back and splattering blood across the room. The screaming man at her feet was silenced, letting loose a death rattle that gave Hidan goose bumps. He was still, bleeding from a mirror wound inflicted to his chest, beginning above his sternum and existing under his rib cage.
Hidan's eyes flicked over the corpse and rolled him over using his foot. The stranger's eyes rolled back in his head and his mouth fell loose. Death had over taken him on a particularly strange angle. Hidan looked back at the woman, and she was in a completely different state.
Oh, Jashin, she could have moaned. An intense pleasure washed over her like an orgasm, radiating from her chest and drifting to every part of her body. Wave after wave of euphoria wrung the hurt from her body, gifting her the pleasant, joyful, elated bliss she'd longed for. She'd longed for this without knowing it, it felt so intoxicatingly good.
Her belly radiated butterflies, her mouth salivated, and she felt weightless, suspended in time. Her toes curled involuntarily as goosebumps rolled down her person. She shivered, her lips parted ever so slightly and her gaze distant.
Hidan knew what she was feeling. It was all too familiar. He couldn't just let her pass out from blood loss, he decided, and in one swift motion he yanked her katana from her chest. She really did moan that time, her mouth falling open and her pupils dilating wildly. He dropped the sword in favor of catching her as her knees finally gave out and she fell to the floor. He grunted, unsure what to do with her as the inky blankness faded from her skin.
"Sika?" He asked, juggling her to one arm so he could use the free one to turn her head towards him. She didn't respond. He narrowed his eyes.
He decided to drag her to the bed and threw her on it, her limbs uncoordinated moving haphazardly wherever they wished. She was too drunk to control them. Sighing, Hidan ran his hands through his hair. The pink glow of the room was giving him a head ache, and he was thirsty too, so his next decision was to leave the room momentarily, returning at ninja speed with a stolen bottle of pop and some pain killers.
Though this place was a little noisy with tons of nondescript thumping and the occasional loud moan, it was spacious and plush. He took his shoes off and found the light switch, cutting off the pink hues for the soft glow of a lamp near the bed. The carpet was expensive, so was the overly soft mattress, way too high rent for a brothel.
He took a swig of his soda and looked around, rifling through drawers until he found a pen and paper pad with the buildings name on it. It titled itself as a love hotel, not a whore house. Hidan wasn't entirely sure what the difference was.
Sika stirred and he glanced over at her from the empty side of the bed. She's trenches her legs, blinking slowly, her breathing normal again but her eyes still blown wide. He didn't like the way she was looking at him. A small smile crept on to her face, upturning the corners of her mouth and scrunching her eyes. She looked happy, that was all, but it still unnerved him. He had no idea why.
"Why do you look so disgusted?" Her voice came in a croak, deep and dry.
"Fuck if I know," he huffed, turning back to the drawer and the items inside.
"That felt awesome," Sika sighed dreamily, his bad attitude unable to phase her, "I can't even describe how that felt. Like my skin was on fire in an ice bath. It felt like chocolate tastes. Does it always feel like that?"
"Yeah. Every time. You get used to it," he replied, short.
"Oh, no, I hope I don't. That shits better than mushrooms. That might even be better than food." She sighed again, her smile creeping wider. That caught his attention.
"Mushrooms?" He asked, raising his eyebrows.
"Yeah, like, drugs?" She suggested, like it was really a question, " Their a hallucinogen. They're the best because you're so fucked up hours later, you can't even remember your name."
"Why would you want to feel like that?" Hidan blurted, without much thought and without a filter.
"I used to suck cock for a living, are you kidding me?" She snorted and giggled, which spilled into genuine laughter. She held her stomach, the endorphins letting loose all over again and she struggled to get herself under control.
"I used to have this guy," she started, hiccuping a little half giggle, "he came and saw me in the third of every month. He used to grow them and he'd share. It felt sort of like this but really different."
"That doesn't make sense," he pointed out, but she only shrugged, a horribly dumb look crossing her face.
"Come sit by me," she said after a long moment of silence. He was still looking down at the now empty drawer, still feeling a little anxious. He didn't want to tell her no though, that'd be mean. Hidan snorted, that thought struck him strange, why should he care if he was mean to her?
When he finally looked over, she had one hand extended to him in invitation.
He took a deep breathe before he climbed into bed with her, pushing her hand back to keep it to herself. She didn't seem to mind. He tried to stay sitting, but her hand fell on his shoulder and tugged and be let himself fall back on to the mattress, propped up against the headboard. He grabbed his drink off the side table and held it, sipping it leisurely and trying to act as if nothing as amiss.
Her hand drifted out and he eyed it. He'd already tried to keep her off of him, he didn't want her skin on his. He gripped her wrist just as her palm settled on his chest. His entire body tensed, stiffening like a board and his muscles tightening uncomfortably. He lifted her hand from his person as quickly as he could and tried to shove it back in her direction, but she resisted him.
"What are you doing?" He asked her with a certain twang of annoyance, raising the pop bottle to take another drink. It was almost panicking to think she might touch him. And then her words blurted from her still grinning mouth.
"I dunno."
She didn't pose a threat to him as long as they didn't touch, he decided. He let his body relax with a deep sigh and scowled at her though the low lighting. "You're a real pain in my ass."
"You know, one day, when I gain enough weight, I'm probably gonna be super curvy," Sika said after chewing a bit if her breakfast and swallowing.
"Why does that matter?" Hidan grunted around a mouthful of his own. Kakuzu looked to be ignoring her.
Sika shrugged, taking a sip of water, "I dunno. It's just what media shows me is pretty, and I wanna be pretty."
"Again, why?"
She shot him a dirty look. "Fuck you." She didn't care if it was superficial or culturally perverse, it wasn't shameful to be how she wanted to be no matter how stupid.
"Fuck you too!" He almost shouted back.
"Will you two shut up?" Kakuzu snapped suddenly, slamming his mug of coffee on to the table, "and keep your goddamn voices down!"
They sat in silence for another few moments, forks clinking on plates and avoiding attention despite the attention grabbing black clouded cloaks they wore. The men wore them, Sika was still wearing a bandeau and a pair of shorts. Still no shoes.
She had another shower though, and she'd washed her clothes and poured hydrogen peroxide on them to remove the blood. Hidan thought that was particularly smart, he hadn't known that bloodstains were removable, it could have saved him so many shirts.
"Where are we headed today?" Sika asked, looking up from her near finished food.
"An outpost near by. I'm going to pick up a new set of wanted posters," Kakuzu replied gruffly, handing her his untouched toast. She took it.
"Well, do you suppose I could stay here? I was supposed to uh, get something tattooed on me, I wanted to get that out of the way."
Kakuzu considered that. She'd need a babysitter, but he could kill two birds with one stone that way. "Hidan, don't let her out of your sight."
"Oh whatever! Like she'd run, seriously," the Jashinist complained, narrowing his eyes as his partner unloaded his plate on to their ward's and promptly left. He wasn't gone five minutes when Hidan realized kakuzu had stiffed him with the check.
There was a tattoo parlor in town, but it didn't open until noon. It wasn't hard to waste three hours though, and they were the first inside.
The tattoo artist wore combat boots and ripped jeans. He looked and spoke very western, in fact, Sika thought he might be half. He wasn't anything special in his plain T-shirt, but his art was something to behold. His arms were covered in ink, two sleeves that began at the wrist and went past his shoulders and ended somewhere under his shirt, probably twisting on to his chest and back. He had a number of old military tattoos from before his time and a poem printed on his forearm, Tigers and knives and vines wove together in a colored mess of artistic passion, and he claimed to have done everything below the elbow himself. Sika was confident in him.
"How can I hope you?" He grinned, coming around the counter to meet her as she entered.
"I need this," Sika informed him, pulling a mostly unwrinkled paper out of the Akatsuki folder in her bag. "It's a summoning contract, it has to be perfect."
"I can do that. Have you thought about where?" He asked, taking the page from her.
Actually she had. "I'd like it on my back, as big as you can make it."
"This will take a couple hours to do. Have you ever gotten a tattoo before? The larger they are, the harder they are to care for, and that area is sensitive," the artist reasoned. He didn't want to leave it half done if she petered out.
She grinned. "I can handle it, I'm a shinobi."
He nodded. It wasn't often his first customer was going to shell out that kind of money when they'd just opened, and he had a few hours to kill before his next appointment anyway.
The tattoo artist got on it, taking the paper back to a desk where he used a light table to trace the seal and transfer a much larger vision onto a sheet of transparent paper. He brought a towel back with him.
"If you'll follow me," he said, sweeping his arms to the side in a dramatic 'right this way' fashion, "and if you wouldn't mind, do you suppose you could remove your top?"
Sika, of course, didn't have any reservations about taking her top off. No sooner was she seated on the artist's padded bench at his workstation did she pull the thing completely off.
"Oh, uh, oh," the artist blushed, not expecting her to just strip like that, and snickering, Hidan thought the artist might get a nose bleed. He quickly handed her the towel, and she covered herself with it.
Hidan tried his best to be mature. He really didn't care to look but there was something about a woman's body that made him sort of uncomfortable. It wasn't like any of the priests at the temple ever gave him the birds and the bees speech. It wasn't a big deal, he wanted to act like it wasn't a big deal, but he was glad when she covered up.
"I'm uh, gonna put in the stencil, and I'd like you to uh, okay it," he spoke, his tone unsure and shaking. He was in a hurry to press the paper to her skin, and when he pulled it away, the summoning circle was penciled to her mid back. It would only be partially covered by her bandeau, but Sika wanted the artwork on display. It stretched in a perfectly circular shape from rib to rib, beginning about four inches under his neckline and ended at her mid back. The artist held up a mirror and handed her a second, letting her angle it herself until she got a good look.
It took her a while to decide if she liked it. Chewing her cheek, she debated asking him to remove it and put it on the back of her earlobe, as Itachi suggested. She was worried what people might say, especially her father, if she ever saw him again. In the end though, she decided that if her body was her own, she might as well be comfortable in it.
"It looks great," she said finally, "does it look alright to you, Hidan? The seal?" She asked, looking over her shoulder at him.
"Looks fine," he assured right away, thought he actually hadn't played too close attention. The artist picked up the original and compared them before he spoke again.
"Could I uh, get you to lay on your stomach then, miss? Or, or uh, I suppose you could stay sitting facing away from me, but I uh, I'd like to start," the artist stammered, fumbling with the gun and the ink.
"Is it easier if I lay down?" Sika asked, tucking the towel under her arms.
"Yes," the man answered, pulling on a pair of latex free gloves.
So she complied and Hidan took a seat in an uncomfortable chair nearby.
Sika jumped when the tip touched her skin, the buzzing tattoo gun in skillful hands. His every move was precise, his eyes calculating and his grip firm. He started in a place it wouldn't hurt too much, on her lower back, and she was relieved it didn't hurt. She could compare it to being pinched, and her skin tingled like it was asleep, but it wasn't a good or bad feeling.
The artist did a section at a time, doing the most he could in places it wouldn't hurt so much. It took him a half an hour to do two thirds of the lower portion, leaving a gap around the area of her spine. He was meticulous about it, taking careful swipes with a cool cloth to pull away the ink sitting unused on the surface of her reddening skin. He dabbed the pen into the ink time after time, always resuming where he'd left off until he could avoid going over her spine no longer.
"The parts where bone is closer to the skin hurts the worst. You haven't been bothered much until now, but it'll probably change. Maybe you, uh, wanna hold your boyfriend's hand?" The artist suggested, leaning back in his chair and taking a minutes rest.
"She's not my girlfriend," Hidan spat, readjusting himself on the hard ass chair. His mood had deteriorated over the course of the half hour, now his face looked sour. He hated waiting around.
"He means," Sika threw him a dirty look, "that we're just friends. And no, I think I'm okay."
The artist shrugged, dipped the tattoo gun back into the ink, and pressed it into the skin. She wasn't expecting the intense burn that ran straight up her spine. Her nerves screamed under the touch and she had to stop it immediately. Sika's eyes blew wide and she gasped, flinching hard. The artist raised his hand quickly so as not to mismark her flesh.
"It hurts," she cried, quickly sitting up to take away the workspace, "I can't uh, I'm religious, I can't experience pain without," she trailed off, unsure.
"I can't leave it half done," the tattoo artist countered.
"I wouldn't want you to," Sika sighed, clutching the towel closer to herself. She ran a hand through her hair, deep in thought. She had to finish this, but she couldn't just not share pain.
"I guess, I dunno, I guess I'll just have to bare it," she decided. There was no other way around it. The Akatsuki came before religion, Itachi made that clear.
Hidan rolled his eyes a silence fell between the artist and his artwork. He'd just sort of thrown himself in to the chair, his legs spread and his arms resting half on the counter nearby and half on the armrests, his head lolled to the side. "Here," he said, straightening himself and leaning over to reach for her.
There was no way he'd let her sin, he'd been trying to prevent it from the very beginning.
"You're way too cocky about this pain thing, you know that?" He huffed, furrowing his eyebrows to set an annoyed sort of look on his face.
"Tell me about it," she huffed back, grinning a little. She took his hand, and settled back down.
He didn't actually want to touch her. In fact, once her hand meet his he wanted to cut it off and throw it back at her, but he left his scythe in the corner of the room where he'd left it and let her keep her hand attached to her wrist. Her hand was warm, but he was sure his was getting cold and he was sure he was starting to sweat. Then the buzzing tattoo gun touched her again, she jumped and gasped again, but this time she tightened her grip on his hand and shut her eyes tightly, gritting her teeth.
"That doesn't hurt," he said very matter of factly, but seconds later he grunted when she dug her fingernails into his palm. That was better.
Well, sort of, he was still super uncomfortable.
Kakuzu sat on the hotel room's bed, sorting through new wanted posters and excel sheets of information and bounties. He'd been back for a few hours, and he was beginning to fear he'd have to go looking for his ward and partner. He'd wanted to move tonight, under the cover of darkness. He was about ready to fold everything up and start looking when the door opened and in walked the two people in question.
"Hey, you old bastard, we're back. Let's order some room service," Hidan was bitching before he was even fully in the room, "And you know what? I'll be damned if either of you two make me sleep in the chair or on the floor, or whatever the fuck again tonight. Seriously."
Kakuzu ignored him.
Sika came in second, her shoulders hunched and she looked sort of pained. He wondered what her problem was but he honestly didn't care.
"Hi, Kakuzu," she greeted, using her palm to wipe something he couldn't see off of her face. It was sweat, he noticed, as she came closer. "Wanna see?"
He grunted sort of noncommitmentally.
"I really like it, whoever designed this seal needs to be commended. It's a work of art," she said, turning around. Her entire back was red, inflamed and irritated, the skin around the ink raised and damaged. She was already beginning to scab with her accelerated healing. It must have been painful to put her sorry excuse of a shirt back on. It looked alright though, no mistakes he could see.
"That seal is hundreds of years old," he commented. She grinned at him over her shoulder. He didn't approve or disapprove of Sika's size and placement choice, neither of the men did, but she couldn't help think Kakuzu was being a little condescending about it.
"It hurts to uh, lean on stuff, like chairs, do you think we really could get room service?" She asked, innocently enough.
He glared at her from his work.
"Please?" She asked, flashing her teeth, "pretty please?"
"We're ordering cheaply," he growled. Room service did sound nice actually.
"As usual," Hidan scoffed from his spot where he glowered out a window. "Anything interesting happen old man?"
"Actually," he replied as Sika lay down on the other side of the bed. She lay on her stomach, her head proper up on her elbows, facing the footboard and her legs folded behind her. He pulled a spread sheet from the bottom of one of his piles.
"Do you know this person, Sika?" He passed her the sheet. She sat up and look at look at it.
On the paper was a photo of a man she'd never seen before. The picture was in black and white, so she couldn't see his hair or eye color, but he had a narrow jaw and high eyebrows. He was older, about her father's age and had her last name attached to his.
"No, I've never seen him before. Is there another Otori family?" She asked. Kakuzu didn't move.
She turned back to the sheet, and read allowed.
"Isao Takano-Otori. From the island of peaches. Aliases include The Land Dealer, The Green Murderer, And The Mist's Bloody Blade. That last one, this guy isn't even from the mist." Sika turned the page over, scanning it for more information but she found none. She handed the paper back to him.
"A bounty was placed on this man's head by a rival political group. I guess he's grabbing up land on the edge of a country in the far north, but he himself lives on an island in the Gold sea. I wouldn't have even bothered if I hadn't seen your last name attached, the bounty is pitiful," Kakuzu scoffed, folding the paper and tucking it into his Akatsuki cloak.
"Are we going there?" Sika asked, leaning over, her eyes as wide as dinner plates.
Kakuzu's face remained covered and his expression could not be read, but he answered evenly. "Yes."
"Would you two quit yammering!" Hidan shouted, "I'm hungry!"
This time Kakuzu's eyes narrowed, "I'll kill him one of these days."
"Not today though, okay?" Sika grinned, "I'm hungry too."
Your title is a reference an awesome fic on a03, called Neophyte, by Fivetail. "It means a person newly converted to a belief" says the dictionary.
If you've got some free time, go check it out. If you like this story, you should go check out my other fic, Dancing in the Dark, which is ended, but its gonna be getting some drabbles in a new folder just for drabbles.
Stay tuned everybody! And please review! I want your words!