Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto
Chapter 13: Artist Sensei
"Okay, kids. Everyone settle down." Umino Iruka used his most innocent tone among his young, charismatic students wandering about. Heads of the academy's children shuffled amongst themselves in the large classroom, quite chatty in the morning. Their sensei scratched the back of his head casually. It was always terrible to get their attention, but what more could be expected for the buddings of Konoha's next generation? "Please, eyes on me!"
All of the children slowly but surely followed his instruction. The noisy voices began to drown themselves out, and the sensei was met by the pleasant, young, innocent faces of the Hidden Village's progeny. Iruka enjoyed his job. ANBU wasn't for him, neither were any of the other classes of prestige: the Interrogation Squad or the Medical Staff. No, more than anything, he delighted in being a teacher for the smallest bearers of the village's future, and seeing them through the Ninja Academy with the uprising they needed to become strong for the next Hokage. To him, an academy sensei was just as important a role as what anyone like Ibiki did.
"Now let's get started." He declared. "Can any of you remember what we talked about yesterday? If so, raise your hand." A few small arms shot up, some faster than others. So among them, Iruka selected the most rebellious and recognizable of the cluster. "Yes, Konohamaru. What did we do?"
"We talked about what we each wanted to do when we grow up!" The boy answered vigorously. His smile was missing a tooth, but brimming with confidence as always. "Me," he brushed his arm lively over the scarf that he wore around his neck and adjusted a pair of goggles on his forehead similar to the pair that Naruto, his idol/rival, once wore. "I'm gonna be the next Hokage! Not because I was related to grandpa, but because I'm gonna become just that strong. Everyone knows that!"
Hanabi, the murky-eyed prodigy of the Hyuuga clan, lightly scoffed at his cliché as she sat next to him. "Why would you be talking about becoming someone as great as that?" She inquired, not to sound snobbish, but to know. "You can't conjure up a single shadow clone of yourself. Hokage is more than a title, you know. Hokage is a leader that spends years of hard work to master hundreds of different jutsu. I doubt you know one."
Her hotheaded classmate fell easily into offense about this, and blushed angrily. "Hey, shut up! I can too do a jutsu!"
"No, you can't," she calmly replied. "You only think you can."
"Oh YEAH? It just so happens that I've been working on perfecting the Fourth Hokage's legendary Rasengan Jutsu. How'd you like to get hit by that, ne?"
"According to my father, that jutsu hasn't been perfected by even the man who made it. What exactly are you looking to prove, Konohamaru-kun?" The way she looked when she asked this bore no less innocence than a newborn kitten, but by now the boy she questioned was beaming.
"What? That does it! Feel the awesome wrath of the Soon-To-Be Sixth Hokage, Sarutobi Konohamaru! This one's gonna sting!" He adjusted his palm towards the ground in an attempt to conglomerate all of his chakra into the center to create what he hoped would be at least half of something that Naruto could. That's all he asked for: half of what a Rasengan should look like.
HaaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAA!" With his mouth wide open in a blatantly obnoxious kamehame shout, he thrusted his open palm at the young and witty girl, confident fires in his eyes. Her eyes didn't blink.
"Wind element jutsu are about more than just throwing air at an opponent, I believe, Konohamaru-kun," she made the taunt confidential to her sensei, who was currently holding a hand to his forehead in chagrin. "Try developing a steady-base chakra stream before trying to destroy your classmates."
"Hmph," Konohamaru shrugged his shoulders childishly with his arms in cross position. "When we're older and tougher, then you'll see. Hyuuga-chan." He made a face at the girl, who crinkled a slight one of her own.
"Okay, okay, that's enough you two." Iruka spoke up to interrupt the two exceptionally young love birds engaged in their daily rivaling squabbles. At least they had no problem maturing with the kind of attitude that all kids grew up with. Rivalries were typically good things, inspiring ninjas to grow stronger for the sake of surpassing their competitors, but ultimately leading to the safety of their village.
…At least that's what happens with most ninjas. The ones that don't otherwise become twisted and evil. Criminals and outcasts, thirsty for power, respect, and above everything that evidently mattered, fear.
"Can't you two just put aside your differences and make nice for a day? Half a day? Come on, just humor your teacher."
"But Iruka-sensei." Hanabi protested gently. "Is Sarutobi-kun not the one that antagonizes himself by taking offense to anyone who tries to feed him constructive advice?"
"Th-that is not true!" Konohamaru debated, still beaming brightly. Hanabi sighed.
"Heh, now now, we all know how witty you can be, Hanabi. That's probably why you might find that others mistake your words. They never know when you're picking on them or if you're just trying to give them advice." Iruka scratched his cheek lightly and gave her a friendly smile.
She wasn't quite satisfied. "But…but I…"
"There, now. We'll talk more on it later, okay, Hanabi?" The girl looked at him with an unreadable expression, but reluctantly nodded once to him anyway. "Konohamaru," Iruka turned his attention to the boy that she was just scuffling with, "Can you mind yourself for that long? Come on now, your private tutor and I have hard enough time just keeping watch on you after school hours. Could you please treat your classmates with the same respect they treat you?"
"You mean the snobby back-stabbing kind? Sure, no problem!" He huffed and crossed his arms again.
His teacher could have possibly facepalmed himself, but for the sake of the students and his own sanity, reserved as much irritation to himself as possible. "Okay, now that that's settled…" he grumbled to himself, "after snack time today, I've got someone special to introduce all of you to. He's a student teacher that came to help with art session today. So could everyone please put on their best attitudes and welcome him as warmly as I hope you will? Including you, Konohamaru?" He leered especially carefully on the class ruffian, who gave him an exasperated face.
"Hah…hai, sensei…"
"Excellent!" Iruka clapped with content. "Now, can any of you remember anything about our Second Hokage?"
Hands shot up. Iruka picked one. It was Udon. With a voice smothered by congestion, he straightened his glasses, sniffed messily, and stood up. "Our Second Hokage was the one who founded the Ninja Academy?"
"Okay, good!" Iruka gave him an assuring smile and pointed out another student. "And he is the brother of what man? Ikura, do you know?"
"Wasn't it…the First Hokage?"
"Uh-huh," He pointed to another student, "Who was famous for…?"
"Mmmmm…I forget… Sorry…"
"That's just fine," Iruka insisted, bent on keeping his young student's esteem up. "This isn't for a grade; I'm just testing you guys on what you know. Can't send you off to the Chunin Exams without you knowing whose honor and village you're fighting for, can we?" He laughed lightly, and then picked on another student. "How about you? What can you tell me about the First Hokage? It's a free shot, you can just tell me anything from what he did to what color armor he wore."
"Uh-um…red…?" The timid voice squeaked.
"…Okay, progress! Anyone else?"
And the lessons at the Ninja Academy pretty much went like that. Fairly easy questions met with fairly basic answers, rewarded with appraising smiles and comments by their loving sensei. Sometimes they would have brain sessions where they got candy for answering questions right, or winning games when the class got split into two teams. Lunch and snack times so that the kids didn't starve their little stomachs, and naptime in the afternoons. Luxuries that many chunin reminisce over. Unfortunately, the world for them wasn't offered up as kindly. Thinking back to how simple life had once been was pretty much the only way any adult could relax in the hard line of employment they worked in. But for some of them, even back then life wasn't as sugarcoated as the Second Hokage tried to make it. Especially if they had come from other villages with stricter policies and rules.
Either way, nostalgia was pretty much a part of culture in the ninja world.
These students – the students that Iruka took great care to look after – could consider themselves the lucky ones.
The morning turned into the afternoon before anyone knew it. The day blew over rather swiftly for the children and their sensei. And now it was snack time. Some of the kids brought their own small meals from their parents if they didn't appreciate the food that Iruka kept for them (or if they were occasionally allergic to it, much like Udon), others just trusted and indulged on whatever treats the classroom had. It had always been a most anticipated part of their daily life, but today, a new reason came over the other.
A student teacher was coming. Older kids could hardly care, but to the younglings, it was almost like a new member stepping into their little social family. Only question was: who was that person like?
Iruka clapped his hands soundly, his eyes closed cheerfully. "Okay, did everyone have a good eat?" A few yes's broke through here and there, and about by this time, all of the tiny students had departed from their separated group tables and practically curled together in a great ball in the middle of the floor; customary procedure for events like story time.
The sight always made their sensei smile. Pretty much all but the most cold-hearted of bastards would, or so was the thought. "Remember the manners your good sensei has taught you. When he comes here, I want all of you to say hello, try not to make him feel awkward. Okay?"
"Yeah," They agreed in a slightly disorganized unison, but their young eyes and minds were fixed entirely on the doorway to the right of the amiable man. The air around them fell silent. Even the sporty young Konohamaru held his breath in.
Iruka seemed to keep them waiting a bit longer, almost as if he wanted to hold every ounce of the suspense in as much as he could for young students – what some of them might call a 'cruel act of humanity' on them, if only they knew how to express the action other than "that's mean". Finally he turned his head and called, "You can come in now."
He sat on his chair in the middle, one leg over his lap, crossing his arms as he continued to survey the many curious faces with their jaws hanging slightly out in awe as the door slowly creaked open. The fingers of a hand wrapped over the edge of the doorframe were the first things that they spotted while they kept as much of their fledgling attention as Kami would allow. The hinges made a sound that none of them ever thought it could. A faint screech. The door was softly, fully opened, and a sandaled foot stepped in, followed by the rest of a lean figure.
Hanabi was to jump on being the first to cordially greet her new sensei, but upon sight of his appearance, the words were lost to her.
None of the class blinked as the soft and gracious patter of the shinobi shoes progressed towards the center of the chalkboard.
"…Hmm…how can I say this..? To make my first impression on this particular group…" The voice, oily smooth, seemed to mutter his syllables out in a sweet, melodious flow as the owner continued his advance toward his invitee. "You are all…" Everyone waited for it. "…Such a serious-looking bunch, hm."
The tightly occupied spot of academy students seemed to topple over itself. "And…that's it?" Konahamaru replied dumbly.
A white and toothy grin helped answer that. "And that's it." His appearance was as followed. Long, shining blond hair, a perfectly trim body entrapped in a fishnet shirt with a matching sash around his waist and dark pants, legplates securing his calves, and an everlastingly impish smile marking his effeminate expression.
"Aheh!" Iruka gave a chuckle and stood up from his seat to shake his new colleague's hand. "And my impression on you is that you're a man of few words." They proceeded to shake hands, and instantly, a shiver crept up his spine. There was something weird about the feel of the other man's hand. Like something was gaping on the palm. A scar perhaps?
"Oh no, Iruka-sempai," he politely disagreed as he let go. He lightly brushed a long bang of blonde hair away from his eye. His revealing gray eye shone coldly with confidence. "Contrarily, I'm a man of many words…hm." It shifted to the cluster of curious onlookers and narrowed while a cunning smirk drew slowly across his mouth. "Only that…they won't need that many words until they graduate from the academy…I'm right, yeah?"
"Well, uh, yes, I suppose." Iruka scratched again. "There's really no need to call me sempai, now. As I see it, you're a colleague of mine, just like I am of you."
"Hm…well I don't have any intention of desisting humility. It is, after all, quite uncommon nowadays."
"Well, that's more of a…glass half-empty point of view, but you're welcome to it. Rest assured though, you won't be disappointed by this group." He nodded with not so much as a glint of negativity in his eye. It actually made his partner scowl a little but not so to the point where he noticed. "Everyone, I'd like you to meet—"
"Sakka-sempai. Mm." He interrupted, initially cancelling the entire honour of the preamble.
Some of the students hearing the name tried very hard to wrap their minds around the name he gave. Ironically, Hanabi was the one that was trying the hardest.
'Sakka…sempai…?' She played the name in her thoughts over and over while she gazed up at the young, long-haired man with uncertainty. He was surveying the group silently with almost inwardly wild eyes. 'Artist… It sounds so weird to have as a name...' Her natural Hyuuga awareness gage instantly shot up into the red area as she gasped quietly on noticing that his eyes had stopped on her. And stayed on her for as long as she continued to stare. She instinctively averted her own eyes and tilted her head down to avoid his piercing stare. '…All the same…why do I sense…that this man is very prestigious…?'
The very person she was talking to herself about continued to stare. 'Those eyes. No mistaking that tint. A Hyuuga. I've studied up on their Kekkei Genkai…but this,' his eye dilated with apprehension. '…is my first time seeing one in person.'
"And are you native to this village, Sakka-san?" Iruka asked him formally, tearing him from his thoughts.
He instantly turned away to face him and answer his question. "Ah, no. You could say I'm somewhat of a…pilgrim. I emigrated from the Land of Snow just a month or so back. And arrived here no more than two days ago…hm."
Iruka whistled lightly, showing his interest. "Wow, you really settle down quick."
"I don't know exactly how long I'll be teaching. Honestly, I was originally planning to act more as an aide to you…assuming you were so attached to these guys that you didn't feel like leaving them, huh."
"I'm fine with it. Don't get me wrong, I love my class, but sometimes I'll have people like Ebisu substitute when I have to go off on an urgent mission. We're used to it."
One of the younger kids, a girl no less, who had obviously not paid much attention to the conversation, instantly drove down the middle of their conversation like a wedge and asked the newcomer that Dreaded Question of Fate:
"Ne! Sakka-sensei, Sakka-sensei! Are you a boy or a girl?"
The room dropped twenty degrees in two seconds. Under this circumstance, Udon and Moegi actually turned out to be the wisest thinkers of the bunch. Without taking their dinner plate-sized eyes away from the blatantly perturbed sub, the poor creatures broke off from the large, slightly misshapen pyramid of young peers, made a slow, cautious, backwards military crawl away from the front of the room to beneath the table farthest back, and there crouched in fetal position to await Armageddon.
Deidara was strenuously trying to bridle his contempt with undoubtedly every ounce of chakra. Physically, mentally, and spiritually. While at it, his reserved few shreds of sanity lasted just enough so that he could do some inward psychiatry to repair the dangerous state of mind that a three-year-old had single-handedly grabbed him by his groin and hurled him into.
"I'm…a boy." He seethed out through a pair of comically-sharp fangs. All the while, he repeated a phrase in his head, 'They're just words, they can't hurt me, they're just words, they can't hurt me…'
"Really…? Oh." A young boy jumped into the conflict to fan the flames of war. While saying what followed, he blushed a pink tint over his face with only the innocence of a toddler. "…I was just about to tell you…you actually look kinda pretty."
"…I'm still a boy." The artist hung his head in sheer disdain. With the suddenness of a gunshot, the entire class roared with laughter over the deal, whether it was directly at him, or what the last kid had said, it was equally horrible.
Hanabi covered her mouth to resist breaking a smile open, but even with all those hours of meditation, her concentrated efforts couldn't fully suppress her giggles.
"Hey now, come on, that's an inappropriate question!" Iruka struggled to make his voice clear over all the screaming others, but it was hardly effective. Realizing this, he it was all he could do to turn and flash his colleague a shamed and sheepish smile. 'So much for the introduction I was shooting for…'
A sizeable raincloud had long-since formed over Deidara's head, soaking him in heavy rain. His eyes were completely shaded in to mark his chagrin. He was chained up in a cave. A cave filled with mocking, jeering, conniving little demon children. Screw first impressions. Fuck sociology.
'…I wonder of Sasori wouldn't be willing to build me a puppet to lock myself away inside too…?' The thought wasn't exaggerated. As much as he would love blowing these gremlins of Hell back to the fiery depths from whence they sprang, that wasn't his mission.
…But that wouldn't stop him from wishing so incredibly bad that it was his mission.
"Just hand me the attendance clipboard, un." He muttered. 'Some of the names just might make it to my personal 'People to Kill' list.' Every other Akatsuki had one. In order to have your name on something that personal, that confidential, you'd have to do something pretty bad.
Questioning Deidara's sexuality was pretty bad. On the positive side, your cremation would be free of charge.
When the laughing dimmed down, Iruka swallowed his pity and informed them, "He's going to be our assistant for Arts and Crafts time. How does that sound?"
"I dunno, but he talks funny, sensei!" One of them shouted.
"YOU, child, hm!" Deidara pointed two digits fiercely down at the talker as if he were Judge Death himself. "What…is your name?"
"I'm Konohamaru! Get used to hearing it around here, you hear?"
His new mentor rolled his eyes and turned his head to follow a small, capricious huff. Hanabi again crossed his line of sight, being the source of the impulsive scoff. He smirked with slight interest. "…So I see. …Hm."
Konohamaru tried to continue his monologue of grandeur. "Yeah, I may not seem like it on the outside, but on the inside I'm actually really—"
"KAY! CLIPBOARD!" He could have made the boy screech with the volume he cut him off with. Iruka handed it over to him, happily, but a bit perplexed. The group of tiny kids watched as the newly-acquainted stranger's eyes trimmed the page, searching the name. They gleamed distinctly when he found out what his last name was. His expression started alive.
"? Sarutobi Konohamaru?"
"That's right!"
"Relative of the Third Hokage, I presume?"
"Right!"
"Well Konohamaru, I actually happen to be quite an admirer of his work! Did you know that he trained one of the most dangerous, most feared men in the world of shinobi, hm?"
"The boy's skin started to go pale. "I…uuh…I mean…"
"How is he?" Deidara, now masquerading as a captive fan of Sarutobi Hokage, pretended to work around eagerly. "Is he around? Can you introduce me at some point?"
By now, Konohamaru's spirits had sunk like a stone through water. He slowly sat down again, depression visible on his face.
"Uhm…Sakka." Iruka whispered into his ear. Deidara leaned in, his lip furrowed with dumb and open curiosity. "The Sandaime Hokage…well…" He broke it with a sorrowful tone. "…He passed recently, and we make a point of not mentioning anything about it around Konohamaru. You can understand, right?"
Deidara frowned and looked away. "Ah yes, of course…how very, very awful."
On the inside, he was smiling. He knew about it, of course. Why else would he have brought it up? Maybe there was some fun to be had here in the Hidden Leaf after all. …Just a little.
"Anyways!" Iruka spoke up to the class, "I think it's about time to pack it in for today. Please come in tomorrow with bright smiling faces, because Sakka-sensei is officially going to be a part of our group talks. We'll probably spend the first half of the day introducing each other." He turned; hand on hip, back to the new student teacher. "Anything you want to add before we say good-bye today?"
The blond young man nodded and took a step forward. Looking down at the class, he caught a few distrustful leers, but shrugged them off his shoulder and said what he was going to say:
"Let's make knowing each other a healthy, positive, and wonderful experience. Yeah."
Deidara, the S – Class international terrorist and demolitions expert of a batshit-twisted criminal organization had successfully infiltrated the vulnerable budding area of Konoha's flourishing vine. And none of these idiots suspected a thing.
A familiar young woman sat comfortably on a porch, lapping happily on her customary favorite grab-it-and-go treat: a stick of dango dumplings rolled and marinated in sweet sauce. After that close scuffle with Uchiha Itachi, it was nice to see the day end on a good note. In spite of everything, a single sweet tongue-tingling sensation was all that it took to relight and rekindle the world of Mitarashi Anko. Her favorite words to live by have always been "Enjoy the little things".
It was a bright orange dusk in the Hidden Leaf Village, and many of the denizens and tourists were already starting to turn in. Bit by bit, the crowds were clearing. And it was her favorite part of the day. Just quiet time between her and her one true love: sweets.
She sat in the same place for several minutes. Nothing out of the ordinary was happening. Konoha was falling asleep. She was almost disappointed.
Almost.
But after Akatsuki forces brushing so close, so…near them? It was like watching an atomic bomb explode in the near distance and wipe out everything around your house except your house. No way in Hell could that have been it. Orochimaru was in that organization. They're too good for that.
She realized that her pondering over the matter had left her paused and neglecting a perfectly good snack, and she couldn't have that. She was about to chew off the third dumpling off of the stack when she realized something cliché that all good ninjas realize.
It was too quiet.
She slowly sat up, from the porch, half hidden between a misty dark and an orange light by the impressive structure over her. The orange paper lanterns hanging down over the proceeding alleyway drifted silently with a light gust of wind passing through them. Still holding her snack in one hand, she turned and looked down one direction.
Everyone was gone.
She closed her eyes, inhaling and exhaling a slow breath, and slowly turned the other way.
She gasped audibly when she found her face two inches away from another.
"Hi there." He spoke with a calm grin just as soon as she spotted him.
"Wah!" With the sheer instincts she was raised by, her hand holding the sharp-tipped dango stick acted on itself and drove the wooden pick deep into the blade of the man's left shoulder, undoubtedly ripping into a tendon and out.
"…Ow." He didn't cry out in pain or anything of the sort, instead taking the tip of the pick by two fingers and quickly jerking it out with a brief grunt. She didn't know if she was more appalled by how easily he took to doing it, or by how creepish it was of him to just jump out at a lady like that. Either way, her heart had jumped about two beats.
"My God! What do you think you're doing, just springing up out of the ground like that in a silent area like this? Mister, have you no shame?"
"Oh shut up." He replied, coolly running a hand through his silver, neatly-combed hair. "You're the one who ain't got shame, sticking around here near dark while everyone else leaves. Do you have any idea what happens to brash women who do such stupid things?"
"Oh?" She narrowed her eyes. It was difficult for him to tell if she took it as a challenge or an insult. "Then maybe you dunno who I am." She flaunted boldly.
"Hmm…can't say that I…give a shit."
She looked at him coldly, and then continued. "I'm a legitimate jounin of the Hidden Leaf Village. Who do you think's gonna pull something on someone like me?"
"Well, me for instance, if I were in the mood. I was just on my way back from mutilating something that probably didn't deserve to be mutilated, nothing says I wouldn't do the same to a pretty lil' chicky like you."
"You talk pretty tough. Not from around here, are you, guy?"
"Heh. …That obvious, huh?"
She looked him over carefully, first at his enchanting amethyst eyes, then at the fancy purple garb he had wrapped around him, then over his shoulder at his impressive triple-sickle scythe weapon hanging on him by a strong ripcord. After a quick look on that, she also followed his arm down to where he was holding her stick, still with one dango piece clinging to it, now dark red with blood, drops trickling to the dirt ground.
"Mmmmm pretty obvious." She concluded with some easy speculation.
"Well gee, you really are a ninja, aren't you?" He remarked sarcastically, holding the stained wooden point up in front of him. "And you know, where I come from, there's a penalty to pay for spilling the blood of a believer."
She raised her eyebrows at him. "Oh dear. …You're not one of those missionaries, are you?"
He snickered under his breath and replied, "Nah. I'm just here for the good stuff."
"Really?" She flashed an expression born half of mischief, half of flirtation, and as she moved in closer to him, he furrowed his eyebrows in an indignant cringe, but held his ground. "And just…what kind of…good stuff do you crave?" She cooed, moving in to the point where she was right up in his face, drawing his attention with her insinuating stare while she snuck a hand slowly over to his and snatched back her dango stick. With a quick triumphant "ha", she leapt a good few feet away from him and swiftly finished the last dumpling on the stick, despite the blood. Oddly enough, it tasted all the more delicious to her – if she even noticed the difference at all. "Had ya going, didn't I?" She winked at him.
He crinkled his face on sight of her long tongue drawing out of her mouth to lick her lips clean. It was a kinky sort of gesture, for shits yeah, but still he always thought that blood was his thing.
"Hn? You a vampire or something?" He inquired with a sneer.
"Who me?" She looked around herself innocently. Then she jumped high up into the air, and with the grace of a trapeze performer, landed on the wire dangling above holding the paper lanterns. "Not really. Just a sweet, adorable, fun-loving girl raised by a complete psychopath."
He continued to look at her with something of an unreadable expression. "I still say it wouldn't protect you. You could be a scrapper off the streets or some stuck-up pampered princess raised off of her parents' money, and your recklessness will only send you one place in the end: to a cozy grave with your name on it."
"Hmph. Well aren't you a glass half-full." She snorted.
"Hey, don't take my word for it; just ask yourself how invincible you are."
"Oh as if you differ?"
The man smiled. "Sweetheart, there are morgues filled with bodies of people who thought the way you're thinking right now. I guess what I'm really trying to break to you is…well, you're mortal."
It was no mystery that Anko drew negative energy from being called 'Sweetheart'. She sighed and rolled her eyes detestably. This guy was either being too difficult to reason with or too needy for a half-decent argument. "Look, did you come here to start something? Or do you have someplace else to be?"
"Ah," he slapped his forehead. "You're right, I do. …Still, do you by any chance have a name?"
"Maaaaayybe," she played, crossing her arms, "Also maaaaayybe I don't feel like telling you if I did before you told me yours first."
She watched him pull something tiny out from under his sleeve. "Sorry lady, I don't feel like bending over for someone I don't even know. Jeez, and to think I showed myself just to give you a piece of helpful advice. Tch…" He turned to face away from her and spread his arms out dramatically to emphasize his apparent disappointment. "Just comes to show ya, it's typical of a woman to never listen when someone much stronger than her tries to give a little constructive criticism."
This REALLY got her attention. "You think you're stronger than me, eh? Shall we see who bleeds the most?" She drew out a kunai, anticipating that he would do the same. But all he did was flash her an indifferent look and reveal the tiny object he held. It was a jagged paperclip.
"Even I make a point not to get serious over an atmosphere so subtle." He brushed her off. "I just thought you might ask me on a date if I was nice. Ooooooh well." He started to break off tiny sections of the clip into barbed pieces as he continued speaking. "I do have a cool trick to show you though. I learned it off of watching the movie Daredevil." He had all of the segments of clipping laid out on the back of his hand. "Now pay attention, 'cause I'm only gonna do this once."
Before Anko could respond, he already established his aim at her, and lightly, swiftly brushed his other hand over the shrapnel shards with the sharpest and most delicate of strokes, and they whistled through the air faster than bullets into various places of the wire that she was steadily balanced on. All of the lanterns below her burst aflame at about the exact same time, and the rope instantly gave way.
She flipped harmlessly onto the floor of the alleyway, and looked around just in time to hear him scream the word "Bull's-eye!" and his sadistic laughter echo away.
Amidst the wall of fire now cutting off the path, the purple-robed man had disappeared.
"Huh. Mortal, eh? Wonder where he went…" She scratched the back of her head, briefly wondering for a moment as she put her knife away if she should inform ANBU. She ultimately declined. It was to be her little secret. As she began to walk home, she quickly reverted back to her peace of mind. "I feel kinda bad for letting him get away…but it's not like I've seen the last of him."
"You took the on alias of Sakka? Artist? You're joking."
"Hey, it seemed like a classy idea at the time, Sasori no Danna."
Sasori was busily exploring his former superior's village, learning every nook and cranny he could. A peculiar girl was following him close at his heels. There was no one else in the area, so he was fully able to let his living jutsu trek around with him. Bloody Mari was indeed the girl, give or take with the deadly traps and lack of internal organs. She followed her master with sort of a clatter to her step; a metallic three-clawed instrument like the kind you'd use to grab stuffed animals inside a vending machine resembling her left hand. Metal plates were welded mercilessly around her legs as armor and possibly extra weight to make her taijutsu more powerful and efficient. A torn bright red cape hung out around her rather petite form like moss. As poorly put together as she looked from the neck down, her face was that of an undeniably young and beautiful lady, apart from her lifeless and gloomy expression. From her hung a large and potent necklace of kunai knives.
They were both passing around a couple of decrepit buildings while Sasori and Deidara still argued over a comlink.
"You are teaching at the Leaf Ninja Academy…and your name is 'Artist-sensei'." He tried to sort the outrageous facts in his head.
"Hey, is this coming from the one who decided to use Juuman'okudo, the literal translation of Eternity for his name? That's a bit hypocritical, wouldn't you say?"
"First name Okudo, last name Juuman'."
"You must think you're very clever, un. Do you honestly believe that Orochimaru won't make a connection? From what I hear, you two have known each other too long for that."
"It was sort of a gimme, I admit, and he's welcome to try anything. I'll tell you, it was awfully suspicious that he let me get so close to the girl. You can pretty much infer that the Snake was dangling her out in front of me. Wanting to see what I did. Everything is going just too smoothly for us to believe he doesn't have a clue."
"What should we do?" Deidara's voice was getting apprehensive. "If your suspicions are that high, he's obviously too threatening to overlook."
Sasori exhaled a calm sigh. "…He's probably thinking the same thing about me. …Yet here I walk free, talking to you. This was just my hunch, after all. Until anything happens, I'll continue being the exalted 'Juuman' Okudo'."
"I really don't get you sometimes, hm. Why don't you just slip a knife in while he has his back turned, grab her, and be on your merry way? It's hardly like you to procrastinate like this, Danna."
"…Because you see Deidara," A wicked grin broke around his face. "This little game has me excited. A game of chicken between a snake and a scorpion."
He heard his younger partner chuckle jovially over the link. "My you're a competitive fellow. …But don't expect to blame anyone if you get yourself killed for it."
"How does Konohagakure look? …I've never been."
There was a long pause over the receiver as the puppet master stepped over a few collapsed masses of driftwood. He was now trimming the outskirts of Oto. The sky was closing with twilight, and stars were beginning to take up.
"…Hidan openly kicked our deluxe apartment door down and told us that he met a strange woman while he was walking around, yeah. Didn't say much, just that she…was fine around blood."
"Oh?" Sasori's lazy eyes twinkled lightly. "That's an interesting plot development. Zetsu?"
"He's almost finished preparing the tunnels under Konoha. He's holding his job for the 'Akatsuki Escape Plan' just fine."
"And what about you?"
"Who me?" His voice spoke almost humbly. "If I didn't know you better, I'd say you actually cared, un."
"Haaaaah…"
"Hey, if you're seriously so bored that you've resulted to asking me how my little world is going, you ought to go and check up on Tayuya again. Don't you think? She might be getting a bit lonely cramped up there by herself…"
"Sasori-nii-sama," Bloody Mary, Sasori's freely animate human puppet who had been quiet most of the tour, spoke up in a low monotone to get her master's attention. "There appears to be a chakra signature coming up from the trail we're headed. It's…not quite like anything I've detected before."
"Hmmmmm?" He asked, holding the receiver phone away from his ear.
She pointed with one long talon directly ahead. He followed her artificial finger. His eyes widened with tremendous curiosity upon sight of Tayuya, ambling somewhat weakly from the direction she was headed. His head spinning with alert, Sasori silently and abruptly cued his puppet to disappear. His Number 13 did as she was told without so much as a glance from a lidless eye. Her figure vanished into a whirlwind of dead brown leaves, and a quick scurrying sound carried away. She was unnaturally fast.
"That won't be necessary," he answered his partner rushedly. "It seems as though she's coming to me."
"Yay for irony!" Deidara clapped mildly over his side of the comlink. "Now are you actually gonna talk to her this time, hm? Do you want me to let you know what to say? She is a female after all, and we all know how you can be with fe—"
"I'll buzz you back." He severed the link just as she was coming up to him. She still had the occasional bandage or two wrapped around her, but other than that, most of the initial cuts he gave her during their last fight seem to be healed over. She looked as quarrelsome as ever, wearing a scowl that said everything about how she felt towards seeing him. A silent minute passed by as they walked closer and closer and closer to each other. She acknowledged him with a venomous scowl, he acknowledged her with a deadpanned expression.
Their paths inevitably cut, and their shoulders passed each others'. Tayuya would have been just fine leaving it at that. She had nothing much to say to the douche bag apart from a few well-organized combinations of verbal abuse. In all manner of speaking, she just wanted to avoid another confrontation, at least until she was healed up enough to crush a person's windpipe juuuust about his size with her fist.
But Sasori, in spite of his own introversion, did not let it go as easily.
"…Come scrounging about here often? Tayuya of the North Gate?" His voice bled out in almost a whisper while he still faced the direction he was headed.
Her tread came to a screeching halt, and she snapped her head coldly over her shoulder in almost a flush while he made a paced 180 degree turn to face her. The two stood in front of each other for what seemed to be several minutes, both pairs of solid eyes challenging the other.