Summary: For Sasuke, it's just another town. Only more people. What makes Konoha different? And what additions to his coven have been kept untold? A very vague summary. . AU with just one OC.
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto! (Only Itachi's heart.)
This ones super short for chapter-separating purposes!!
She hated art. And Kakashi knew it.
Sakari slashes another brush across her canvas. An alarmed classmate stumbles backwards from her. At a dark glance from the tempered girl, they move their own easel a step away.
More importantly, Iruka knew it.
Exhaling and wiping her brow, Sakari rests against a nearby table. It's almost soggy with old paint. Maybe she would switch to the black and white sketch; put off the impression. But that would mean drawing a face.
"Even for people like us, it's a talent." That's what Iruka would always say on those days practically hiding in his house. Sedate and resolute Iruka. What talent? All she did was sketch eyes.
From her forehead, she pushes back her loose bangs and lets out a sigh. She might as well focus on the painting, at the moment there was nothing inhuman to worry about. She spins the short brush between her fingers, light red splattering her wrists.
Unsuspecting Iruka, ignorant of Kakashi's urge to please, leaks word to the wayward-haired man.
"Don't tell me you've wasted another canvas, Satoshi," the class's stern teacher appears in front of her.
Sakari looks up narrowly and half-shrugs.
"It isn't a waste, Miss Shizune!" A nearby student rushes to the art instructor's side. "You see those elaborate lines? Those are the infrastructure of that wooden table over there. She's using a collage of color!"
Shizune squints closer to the splattered canvas. Her hands fall to her waist, and her lips tighten in thought. "Well...I suppose. Get back to work, Satoshi."
With a robotic nod, Sakari pops a lollipop, biting into it with an eerie crunch.
Kakashi slips a quick note to the guidance office, and Sakari finds herself trapped in one extra class.
"That's some painting."
Holding her red candy to the light, Sakari donnes her uniform shrug. She turns her head before again standing beside her slanted easel.
"Again with the silence?" Kisame says cheekily. "I thought we cleared that already."
"Are you even in this class?" she asks. Her drooped hand leans towards her project but hesitates stonily. She flexes her shoulders and finally looks at him. "What do you keep staring at?"
Kisame chuckles. "What's the crime in admiring you?"
"If that's what you were doing," she clicks her tongue, replacing her candy. "It's really more like a stalker's," she hesitates, "vigil."
"Perceptive," he adds, sharp teeth jutting. "But what makes you say that?"
Sakari switches her brush with a pencil. It quivers over the threads of the canvas. Moving her painting from her neighbor's view, Sakari begins to add lighter sketches past her messy brushstrokes. They hear the old door protest at its squeaky opening. Sakari answers simply, "Only a stalker studies reaction. Interaction."
"Or lack of," Kisame snorts. "There must be someone you enjoy consulting with." He catches her wrist, dark eyes caught in mischief. His blue-black spikes bristles as his face moves closer, as if to emphasize his pointed stare.
But at that moment a tall figure slips past the brooding Kisame. Reflexively, he shoves back at the brushing passer-by with irritation. They turn sharply, glaring past white bangs.
Sakari peers toward them, expression tight.
"I expect an apology," a familiarly coarse voice hisses. "Or is that too much to ask from a monstrous oaf like yourself?"
Kisame twists around, growling, and Sakari snatches away her arm. "And who're you supposed to be, big-mouth?"
"Kaguya Kimimaro," he says with a light smirk. "I suggest you commit to memory, as your companion already has."
"So you're buddy-buddy with this big-talker?" Kisame asks Sakari.
She makes no notion, focusing back toward her painting.
"Heh, then that's just fine," Kisame stands up straighter. "You still want to mess, shorty?"
Kimimaro crosses his arms, amused. "Well, if you aren't going to apologize."
"I wouldn't say sorry to any crap on a stick like you!" Kisame booms. His jaw tightens in immediate hatred.
"Assuming you were mentally able."
"That's it!" Kisame charges forward, shoving the silvery boy into the flooded sinks. Kimimaro moves faster and dodges an inch afar. Jolting from a quick foot, he throws a heated punch. Kisame runs to the side, pushing over a easle and earning a scream from a classmate. He tries to knock Kimimaro with his elbow but instead clatters a cup of brushes to the damp floor.
"Enough!" An angry Shizune screams, running between the two teens. "I want the two of you in Sarutobi's office, now!"
It's at that moment that the door opens again, revealing three newcomers, Sarutobi included.
Sakari looks up this time and quickly catches Sasuke's questioning glance.
"I heard yelling, Sasuke!" a thin pink-haired girl squeals from beside him.
Shizune dashes to the doorway, quivering in temper. "Those two! Fighting!"
The deep lines of Sarutobi's mouth curve downward, and he glares at the messy scene. "Alright, the two of you, come with me."
"Sakari was involved," Kimimaro slips cooly, regaining a composure.
Sakari's gaze snaps quickly to him. But before she can open her mouth, Sarutobi thunders. "Then you, as well, come to my office!"
Kisame grunts, before lifting his bag and following the old man. Kimimaro strides his cool stride, and Sakari ensues. She doesn't look as she passes Sasuke, but he can sense her clear annoyance, far across her back.
