The acrimonious nature Sho had acquired over the years, mordant and shrew, had caused him to behave rather cat like. In fact, he very much would resemble some sort of feline if he had the eyes or the tail. And because of that, many of his gestures and tones were very feminine.

Sho had lived a very sheltered life up until he was twelve. Most of what he had experienced was prodigal, and extravagant. After all, his parents had been nobles, very wealthy nobles, who were held in extreme regard.

Sho got just about whatever he wanted. He was an only child, and the apple of his father and mothers eyes. Besides that, Sho had always had a way with words. He had an efficacious aura that seemed to persuade even the most opposing party of what he wanted.

However, he had come to realize soon after his easy life was torn from him that money was the reason behind all this, and once it was gone, his effect was no more. Shortly after Sho's twelfth birthday, his parents were assassinated, and their money swindled by far relatives when Sho was left defenseless.

He was thrown onto the gritty streets of the ghetto, completely unprepared and disregarded.

His relatives were in fact hoping he would disappear, so he could not come back to reclaim his title when he would come of age.

His life, after that, was a constant, unyielding flow of desultory events and circumstances, all erratic and all terrible.

After two long years of this, and a culmination of all the starvation and murder he had witnessed and experienced, he had learned not only how to fight, but how to fight well.

He simply had to, or otherwise, he would die.

He also picked up a healthy knowledge of genjustu and ninjutsu from various gangs and hoodlums.

Sho had strived to move forward, he had yearned a place in the world, an acknowledged place like he had once had. He strove to rise in status through his own hard work. In fact, he worked so hard, he actually acquired some very powerful techniques, and had become quite the handyman in the slums. Handyman, meaning an assassin, more or less.

However, towards the end of those two years, he was still stuck where he had began. He was not all-powerful, he was not of-age, and he was definitely not out of the ghetto.

And that is when he stumbled upon Akatsuki.

He craved a cogent voice once again, one strong enough to move mountains and steal the clouds away from the vast blue sky.

And of course, Akatsuki was authentic. It was real. It was there.

And he wanted it.

Sho wanted to rise in the world. And he had, to an extent. It had been another two years since he joined Akatsuki, but he was still where he was when he began, albeit with a little more jingle in his pockets and a fuller belly.

But he had become stronger as well.

Akatsuki was just a stepping stone to his place of greatness, greatness that far exceeded a silly noble house.

And he was just a few steps away.

Perhaps this is why he would come to hate our beloved Saya so much. Because she had had it all, everything he had dreamed of: And she had let it slip through her fingers. She had completely wasted it.

Or so he would come to think.

/

Already it had been a week.

One whole week of carnage and spine tearing pain.

Saya had dealt with the convulsions. Saya had overcome the memories. Saya even overcame the consistently visiting Uchiha, who had dropped off food wordlessly as she watched from the shadows. After the first three days, Saya began to attempt to distract herself through basic training. She began lunges, sit-ups, push-ups, crunches, and a few other chakra meditating techniques. Finally, she was able to accomplish almost one thousand of each before dying (Figuratively, of course).

It had seemed like eternity, plus a day or two. But now a week had finally passed, and Saya was, to but it in her own terms, 'Sick to death' of lying around and wallowing in her own misery. So tired, in fact, she decided to explore one day after those seven hellish 24-hour cycles, in hopeful thoughts of finding a training room of some sort. Quietly, she closed the door behind her. She had had enough of the basics. She was actually surprised with herself that she was progressing so easily. At this, she mentally cringed. Somehow, she knew this was going to bite her in the ass somewhere along the line. Some type of backlash was bound to happen: It had been way too easy. Shrugging and disregarding the thought, she crept down the hallways, hugging the walls and peering around corners in caution to any lurking Akatsuki baddies.

After about twenty minutes of creeping, she frowned and crossed her arms. Okay, she wasn't any physicist, but there was no way these halls could be that long or maze-like. She didn't remember there being this many passage ways, no way-no how. Sighing, she dropped her arms in defeat.

"You win Uchiha. Now please, relieve me of this damned genjutsu." She said tiredly. And just like that, the spiraling hallways shimmered and vanished, leaving her right back where she started, and in front of her door. To her left, Itachi lounged against the wall, his arms crossed as he silently glared at her. She sheepishly grinned.

"Ne, Uchiha-san. Long time no see?" She laughed humorlessly, glancing back the door and wishing she was once again behind it. Shaking away her regrets, she straightened up and looked at the wall opposite of him.

"So, you guys got a training room or something around here?" Itachi watched her for a moment, seemingly calculating whether or not answering her was appropriate, before walking in the opposite direction. Saya didn't know whether or not that was a 'follow me' or if he was blatantly ignoring her now. After a few steps, though, he glanced over his shoulder, and continued onward, making Saya grin and shadow his footsteps. They walked in total silence, marking the hallways only with the presence of their chakra, and Saya's languid shuffles. After two turns, Itachi stopped outside a pair of doors, decorated mildly with the lines of aged wood and nicks etched into the middle, sloppily spelling out kanji.

'Hidan fucking rocks.'

Saya raised a brow.

"Really?" She asked, sarcasm dripping from her voice as she addressed the scrawl with a pointed finger. But of course, the Uchiha didn't answer. However, he did bow his head, and began to walk once more.

"Do not make trouble." He said quietly, but the threat lingered in his tone. Saya frowned. As he walked out of ear-shot, she mumbled under her breath.

"Fat chance." She grabbed the handle of the door, pushing the slab of wood open. "One way or another, trouble always finds me." Saya slowly entered the threshold, the room beyond much larger than what she had expected. She had no idea the lair underground was so huge, especially if just one room took up this much space. The training grounds before her spanned in length and height rivaling the meeting room in which she had spoken with the Akatsuki leader. There was more than enough room for two of these S-classed men to spar in a full-out exercise, without getting in one another's way. Along the wall behind her was a large assortment of weapons, ranging from simple nun chunk, to sheathed katana. The floor was made of a sturdy rock of some sort, and the walls were brightly lit with unwavering lights.

Saya let out a low whistle.

Akatsuki must be loaded.

Absolutely filthy rich.

She rubbed her chin. Well, then again, all they did was earn money killing. She made a face and hung her arms.

Duh.

Shaking away the pestering thoughts, she strode over to the interesting weapons, shiny and pretty and so asking to be used. She rubbed her hands together and grinned mercilessly.

Oh, this would be fun.

So much fun.

Inwardly sniggering, Saya brushed away past the calling knives and swords, and casually sat near the center of the room. Of course, the knives were pretty, and she would love to grasp them firmly in her palms, swing them, parry, feign. The whole she-bang. But she knew her priorities.

First, and foremost, muscle distribution. Strength. Flexibility. Agility. Then strategy.

She didn't know how long she had left until the solstice, but she guessed she had at least three weeks left. Maybe more.

Saya had stayed in shape throughout the years. How else would she have taken care of herself? Pfft.

Okay, so maybe she didn't take care of herself, but she didn't laze around all day, everyday. She had run errands, albeit easy ones, and stayed on her feet. However, she was still a bit rusty. She'd admit that, grudgingly, but it was still true. So a healthy session or two of hard core training should do the trick. And now that her withdrawal symptoms were slowly fading, she would be able to concentrate more.

She plopped down onto the ground, which was surprisingly soft and it cradled her bottom. Mouth slightly agape, she patted the floor around her, testing out the bounciness of the stone, which really didn't feel like stone.

For a few moments, she had fun playing with the ground, until she suddenly stopped.

"This is silly." She mumbled to herself. With that, she began her exercises.

/

"We're leaving in one day." Kisame looked up from his arm gear, which he had been polishing the blood from.

"Is that so? What about the onna?" He asked. He placed the gear to the side of his seat on the sofa. Itachi sat across from him on a loveseat, both in a common room near both of their temporary dwellings. A simple tea table was between them, two cups of cooled tea in plain cups.

"She will come as well." Kisame raised a brow.

"Yeah? In the shape she's in? Doubtful." He tsked and adjusted his guards back onto his arms, fitting them so they adjusted right.

"If she can sneak around the base, she is fit enough to travel." Itachi folded his fingers and leaned back into the comfort of the chair. The simple moments such as these were becoming more and more of a rarity. It was best to take refuge in such times, for who knew when it would be their last?

"Sneak around the base?" Kisame paused. "Wait, where is the gakI?"

"I left her in the training room yesterday."

"The training room? What's she doing in there?"

"…Training." It wasn't very often that his partner was sarcastic so blatantly, so Kisame couldn't help but chuckle at the Uchiha.

"Maybe I should go check on her, and see if she's stabbed herself with a kunai yet." He sniggered. Itachi didn't respond, only staring thoughtfully at his mug. "I don't get something." Kisame fisted his hand, turning his arm and testing the restraints. He looked up to his partner. "Just what is this King of Hell summon? Why does Leader-sama want it? And why is it that the onna knows it?" He corrected himself. "Just who is she?" Itachi was usually laconic, quiet, and Kisame had gotten used to that. However, he was hoping for some input on his questions.

But of course, Itachi merely narrowed his eyes. He stood from his seat and moved to the door. Kisame sighed, knowing he was hoping for too much. Shrugging it off, he decided it was time to go mess with the onna. It had been a bit too long since their last confrontation, and he needed to work out the cramps in his legs.

/

Saya hefted herself up once again, sweat glistening on her body and dripping from her face. Her clothes were torn and ragged from travel, and she didn't doubt that she was a terrible sight. Still, she continued with her push-ups, going on number two-thousand. She was pushing it, but hey, that's what ninja did. She frowned at that though, giving another push.

Then again, she wasn't a ninja.

Saya had been training, obviously. She had been training, hard, as she had set out to do.

But she was surprised.

Confounded.

Absolutely stunned

She had no idea she would actually…

Well, that she would actually get better.

Because, when she though about it, she realized it would take a good long while for her to strengthen her vapid muscles and deprived system.

But…..

It had been two days, almost, and already she was exceeding. It was weird, but hey, that was just fine. Maybe it was some sort of Akatsuki drug in the air. Like steroid oxygen.

She grinned, pushing up again, this time with only one arm.

Damn, she felt good.

"Look what the cat coughed up."

And instantly, her grin dropped to a frown. She huffed and refused to look up to Hoshigake.

"Ne? Onna, you're lookin a little worse for wear. Whatcha been doing in here, playing janken?" Saya ignored his jibe, making the last few moves in her workout. With that, she flipped onto her back, arms flung outwards, and stared up at the man.

"Good morning, Hoshigake." She drawled. He grinned at her sour attitude, and noted her expression.

"It's midnight, baka."

"Like I would know. We're freakin underground."

"There's a clock on the wall."

"Well, I obviously didn't know that."

"Use your head, onna."

"Only after you use yours. So, basically, I'll never use it"

"You just insulted yourself."

"Yeah, but I insulted you at the same time, so it's all good." Kisame grinned.

"It looks like you're feeling better. All the booze finally drain out of your system?" He casually shifted Samehada off of his back, leaning against it as he watched Saya begin to roll from side to side. He was without his cloak, only in his under gear that was rarely seen.

Saya swayed back and forth on the floor, staring at the ceiling and biting the skin on her thumb. But then she froze, suddenly realizing who was above her. Swiftly, she rolled backwards and hopped up onto her feet, balancing on the balls of her toes and finally leveling herself out. She looked over her shoulder.

"Wouldn't matter if the sake was in or out, I'd still outmaneuver you any day." She grinned.

But of course, Kisame only grinned back at her. He had come to understand that her smart talking wasn't really arrogance, but rather some type of game to her. She enjoyed banter, and that's why she had always poked at him, attempting to start a game of who's more fluent with phrase. It took him a while, but he noticed it in the tone of her voice. There was no flamboyance, only mischief.

"Wanna put that to the test?" He swung his sword horizontally, a battle-ready smirk playing across his features. Saya's eye glinted in the light as she turned her face away from him. Then, spinning around, she took a stance.

"Only if you're ready to fail!" She laughed. Taking that as a yes, Kisame charged her, pulling his blade back, ready to swing.

There was a brief pause between Kisame's initial movement, and his sudden appearance before Saya. Time slowed, for just a mere second, as Saya bent backwards, dodging Kisame's prickly and power-hungry sword. She fell onto her back, and in another second, quickly spun around, swiping her legs underneath his own in attempt to trip him in his attack.

Kisame saw through this, and as time reverted back to its normal passage, he jumped, missing her technique, and shoving his blade down upon her form. A soft smile now forming, Saya flipped back on a handspring and landed neatly a few steps away, only to be barraged with numerous parries and swipes from her opponent. Ducking, turning, and twisting, she sidestepped each one of his strikes, and avoided touching even a breadth of the chakra-stealing Samehada. Sweat flew off of her face and glistened as she pranced around his blows, the smile slowly widening as the adrenaline increased.

Saya never really cared for ninjutsu. It wasn't that she wasn't good at it; it's just that she preferred the physical rush of taijustu over mostly stationary skills. That, and now that her chakra system was screwed up, she didn't have too much energy to spare. That being said, most of her justsu were flashy, and required massive amounts of chakra. Well, more chakra than she had. Regardless, because of the aforementioned preference, Saya resorted to kicks and faints. Spinning around, she backed away from the proximity of the swordsman before jumping forward and aiming her pokes and soft prods to all his major pressure points. However, Kisame noticed what she was doing, and evaded them.

With a high kick, she jabbed her foot at Kisame's wrist, but missed as he backed away and took another stance.

"You're faster than before." Kisame commented, grasping Samehada.

"Oh? I thought you were just slower. That's good to know." Her smile turned impish. Kisame was about to continue their spar, but a loud voice interrupted his advance.

"What the fuck is going on in here?" Kisame repressed a sigh as he straightened up to look at Hidan, who stood impatiently at the entrance of the room.

"It's a training room, and they're sweaty. Put two and two together." Sho snapped, placing a hand on his hip as he strode up from behind the Jashinist.

"Eat a dick, Shotaro-teme. Better yet, why don't you grow one, you pussy." Hidan snarled, walking towards the rack of weapons. He glared at both Saya and Kisame. "I'm training with the man-whore, so fuck off." Saya raised a brow and stood limply.

"I guess this means I'm going back to my dungeon." She mumbled, rubbing her head. Kisame threw her a glance. She was different. She acted different. Whether it was from lack of alcohol, he didn't know, but she seemed almost…

Well, she seemed more reasonable than before. At least a little more, anyway.

"Not for long, onna. Leader gave us a mission, and you're coming with us. So clean yourself up and get ready to leave." He swung Samehada onto his back, his excitement dampened by the interruption of the fight.

"Yeah? Where are we going?"

"You'll see soon enough, onna."

"My name is Saya, Hoshigake. Not 'Onna'." Saya sent him a pointed frown. Kisame made his way to the door, not allowing her to see the grin on his face.

"So what?" Saya bristled.

"So call me by my name, Tuna-face." She asked dully. Kisame chortled.

"Ha," He scoffed, turning back to face her, "Let me tell you this, onna. The day I call you by your given name will be the day I actually care what you think." He turned back to the door and waved a hand. "Hope you're ready to wait until Hell freezes over. You've got two hours until we leave." And with that, Kisame left the room, leaving two laughing onlookers and a twitching Saya. Oh, he got the last laugh.

For now.

But in a mere two hours, that would definitely not be the case. If Hoshigake Kisame thought that was the end of this conversation, he was sadly mistaken. Saya was feeling as fit as a flute, which meant she was ready for some major action. In other words, Hoshigake better watch out, 'cause Saya didn't only know how to argue. She also knew how to screw with people, and very, very well.

Saya's twitching eye stilled as thoughts of revenge filled her mind for the verbal slaughter that Kisame enacted in front of two arrogant Akatsuki members, who would most likely hold it to her for quite some time.

Not the greatest second impression.

With a long, drawn-out sigh, Saya followed Kisame's suit, and began her trek back to her room, and hopefully a shower.

"Hey onna, you could blow off some off some of that steam with me!" Hidan smirked at Saya, swinging a small scythe in her direction. It flew in a blink straight at Saya's head.

In another blink, Saya caught the blades pommel, spun around, and chucked it back at the silver-haired man, only for it to embed itself into his chest. Saya didn't bat an eye as she left the room, in search for some clean clothes and a bathroom.

Hidan cursed as he yanked the weapon from his flesh, a squelching noise sounding as it ripped the wound open wider. Sho only sucked his teeth in annoyance as he fingered some kunai and a small dagger, waiting intolerantly for his awaited training session.

So, that's it for this chapter (Obviously). I figure I'll add a fluff scene in the next, just a little fluff. Like reduced fat marshmallow fluff. I'll also send 'em off onto their mission, where they'll encounter some old friends, a hooker with an awesome attitude, and…..well, you'll see.

Oh, and yes. I did make the 'songs' up. Some of them are songs, some are just phrases or rhymes. I'm glad you like 'em.

Oh, and I'm also happy to see people appreciating the way I portray Kisame. Actually, I thought I was doing him a major injustice, and that I had him OOC. Any suggestions are always appreciated. And thanks for all those reviews, guys. Once again, they're the only reason I update.

Hm, I'm adding this even after I updated, but I'm really wondering something and it won't get offa my mind. What do you guys visualize when you think of Saya? If any of y'all happen to be particularly good at drawing, or you're just bored completely outta yer mind to the point of ripping fingernails out, draw me a pretty picture. You know, of Saya. I thought it would be sorta cool. Obviously, you don't have to, but if you're up to the challenge, then hey, knock yourself out. Deviantart is usually the best to upload at, by the way.

Later

~Serb