Chapter eight : The Fire Country
Chihiko climbed up the side of the mountain range that bordered the expansive village, a natural enclosure to shut out intruders.
"It's better than the barnyard fence back home," she quietly mused, smiling dryly as her hands and feet worked in tandem to deftly scale the crumbling, rocky surface, thinking back to the rickety gate that barely fortified her hometown.
It seemed to trail on for ages, the top ridge of the crag always so far in front of her, at least thirty feet away if not more. Her hand bandages were already soaked in sweat, and the insides of her legs were now becoming irritated from the strap of her thigh holster, red and sore and inflamed. With every movement she made, the feelings of discomfort elevated in lunging bounds, from mere annoyance to now unbearable pain. Her calves were cramped from the long two day journey through the forest, and now every thread of strength was dwindling from her body like an unraveling spool of yarn.
"Stupid me, I thought this was going to be the easy part," Chihiko growled to herself, pulling herself up another section of the mountain, gazing up towards the peak, the blistering wind doing nothing to cool her off; instead it attempted to pluck her off the rock face, dashing about her in forceful gusts.
As she placed her foot into a tiny, feeble looking crevice, it suddenly fell through, sending her legs flailing, scrambling for another safe-hold. The chunk of rock that had crumbled off clattered down towards the base of the mountain. Each time it crashed against the cliff it became less of a rock and more of a pebble, bits of it being chewed away quickly until it was no more then a grain. Chihiko thought grimly about how the very same thing would happen to her bones if she had the misfortune to fall.
Pushing with her legs and pulling with all of her upper body, Chihiko finally grasped the upper rim of the cliff. She gave a short cry, so out of breath that her lungs seemed to be the size of golf balls, and then hurled herself up, skillfully rolling into an upright crouching position on the summit. She was a graceful creature; slumping onto the top of the mountain like a sack of vegetables just wouldn't be right.
Chihiko ignored the immense amounts of perspiration that was spilling off of her face and focused on the view that lay before her.
In all her life, she had only really known the Waterfall village, and it had seemed quaint and nice and charming. There wasn't really anything wrong with it, per sé, but there was ample room for improvement. Buildings were in shambles and their weapons supply was always sparse as most of the residents were farmers, not shinobi.
Everything that spilled out beyond the crest of the great mountain range, however, seemed to contrast all that Chihiko knew. The tops of the buildings seemed to rival those of the very rocks she stood on, and each one was brilliant and shining, with banners and flags waving in the gentle breeze, coloring the wind like paint on a canvas. Signs of all shapes and sizes dotted the multitudes of shops and houses, so that everything seemed accessorized and dolled up.
As her eyes took in the magnanimous view, Chihiko held her breath in awe as she saw the opposite side of village, at the towering mountain that had been fashioned into a natural monument. Etched into the rock and granite were the faces of what Chihiko took to be Konoha's previous Hokages. There were four male faces, their jawbones strong and bold like the mountain itself, and on the farthest right hand side was a female, who seemed just as powerful, if not a little intimidating. It must have taken dozens of months and men to carve those stony portraits, and Chihiko's village leader, who she held in the highest esteem, now seemed very small and very powerless.
And then all the people! Even from up high on the cliffs, Chihiko could see the dizzying number of citizens that lived in Konoha, all bustling around, moving like a cloud of energy through the streets. The entirety of Waterfall's population would have only filled the tiniest corner of the Leaf Village, and Chihiko suddenly felt her face pale-over with doubt; with such a huge village before her, it would take her forever to locate her target, and even if she managed to do that, would she even be much of a match for him? An establishment of this size, so powerfully huge and magnificent must harbor some equally mighty warriors. Would Chihiko even stand a chance?
The powerful, granite faces of the Hokages loomed at her disapprovingly, and Chihiko began to regret ever setting foot near the village. She clutched herself, arms crossed over her chest, hands grasping her knobby elbows.
They must all be punished, Chihiko, for what they did to me…what they are still doing to you…you must do it…for us…
A vivid, concentrated spasm rocked her body and Chihiko nearly tumbled off the ridge she was standing on, feet trembling within her boots. She caught herself just in time, remembering the small, falling rock from before; a spill down these cliffs would almost certainly prove fatal. The intense seizure coupled with her already thriving fatigue forced her onto her knees.
"What was that?" she asked herself, faint and lightheaded, arms too tingly to settle.
Her vision was blurry, hazy almost, as if everything was masked with a beige veneer. She hastily rubbed her eyes as a pins-and-needles sensation slowly worked its way down her body, finally exiting through toes.
Only when she knew she had full control over her limbs did Chihiko open her eyes struggle back up on her feet. She felt as if the ache in her biceps and calves had tripled, and Chihiko longed for a warm bath and rest, exhaustion festering in her skin and bones.
"I'm not even in the village yet…I don't even know where the inns are…" Chihiko noted to herself as her breathes steadied from ragged gasps to controlled exhalations. Her heart was still thudding beneath her breast, so frantic that it could nearly be seen thumping against her skin, but at least she wasn't at risk of plummeting down the mountain, bashing up against the rocks like a rotting carcass being tossed away. A breath of fresh energy was already mounting within her, a phenomenon some referred to as "Second Wind".
"Need to take things one step at a time…"
By "one step", Chihiko of course meant "one leap", and she soon kicked off from her spot, cascading down the rock and crags like a stream weaving through the crevices of a fragmented and old stone. She moved like a creature, like a mountain goat that seems to act without fear or hesitation, its delicate hoofs bounding off the boulders like four rubber bouncing ball. By focusing her chakra into her boots, there was never a moment in which she might have slipped off a wet or unstable stone as she descended down the rock face, wind whipping past her as she sped down, movements elegant and effortless.
In no time at all Chihiko reached the other side of the mountain. When her feet touched the grassy knoll far outside the village gate, a spell of seriousness swept over her, for she knew her mission was finally beginning. There beyond the patches of grass was the start of a pebbled road that led through the gate and into the village. It was at those cobbles that Chihiko leered.
This was it. She could turn back now, return to the world she knew, had been accustomed to, and forget all of this as if it were some bad dream.
It would be easy; no one would blame her. No one had to know what really happened.
We'll be friends…always…
As quickly as it had come, the moment of weakness left Chihiko at the remembrance of those few words, the last that she had said to Zaku. She had come here for him, for the memory of him. She couldn't leave now, not when she'd hardly even begun.
Nodding to herself, Chihiko adamantly marched for the open gate, noting how sturdy it looked, admiring the fine craftwork that had been used. Strong ropes that looked as if they could hold fast in the most turbulent of storms secured the solid logs together tightly. The entire structure was about 15 feet higher then the Waterfall's gate, and several times more reliable.
As she neared the entrance to Konoha, two guards, both dressed in warm suits came into view just beyond the open threshold, both seated at a covered booth, not looking concerned at all. Instead, at least to Chihiko, they seemed nonchalant and disinterested. Was Konoha so powerful that they didn't even care if foreigners arrived in their village uninvited? Had supremacy lead them into arrogance?
Chihiko knew she could advantage of this; if they didn't see her as a threat, it would make infiltrating the village easier then she had ever expected. The Waterfall village was distrusting of all others; a foreigner, no matter how friendly they appeared to be, would never get in without a surge of questions and a healthy dose of interrogation.
She walked closer, making herself calm, small, and uninteresting. True invisibility, through the use of some manner of Genjutsu, was not possible at this time; her trek up and down the mountain had drained her tremendously. At this point she probably couldn't successfully hold the illusion. Instead, in lieu of such tiresome ninja arts, the white-haired girl relied on a kind of fiercely held modesty that simply made her unnoticed. By composing herself in such a manner, she could deflect attention completely. It was a common trick that she used in crowded rooms and busy streets to avoid being seen.
Closer, closer yet, and soon she was upon the two guards, walking quietly along. One of them was resting his feet on the booth's desk, the other absorbed in some periodical. Chihiko tried not to eye them curiously, plastering her vision on the road in front of her, her boots clicking on the well-made stone road that was at least twenty feet across. She stole a glance at the watchmen, and then found that she was still safe; they still hadn't noticed her. Gripping her hands, she passed by, quickening her pace just by a little. The booth was soon behind her. She walked faster yet, becoming inpatient.
"Hey! You!"
The voice from behind startled her; her agitation had made her visible once more.
"I'm talking to you!" the same person called out again, this time a little louder, as if Chihiko hadn't heard him the first time. Gulping, the girl turned around, not too slowly as if to look stupid, but not too quickly to seem on edge. The man who had been reading was now standing up from his folding-chair seat and looking at Chihiko intensely. Despite his uniform, which was neatly pressed and clean, his spiky, chaotic hair and the bandage draped over the bridge of his nose gave him an almost childish appearance.
"Yes? Is there something wrong?" Chihiko responded maturely, trying to seem as charming and eloquent as possible. She was unaccustomed to lying and deceit, but she new that all adults had one weakness: they always believed they knew what children were up to.
"Only that I've been watching this post for three years now, and I've never seen you before," the guard answered, pointing at his chest proudly. Chihiko thought he was acting rather bouffant; seemed to her that he was just a vainglorious watchdog.
"Oh, yes, I'm sorry," Chihiko smiled a warm smile, forcing herself to blush as she sheepishly walked back towards the booth. Unfastening the latch on her leg holster, she pulled out the forged passport, hoping that she could trust Orochinaho's handiwork even if she didn't trust the man himself.
"I suppose this is what you need?"
Flashing the passport knowingly, Chihiko felt a ball of tension building in her. The one guard eyed it over several times, leaning over the front of the desk, scrutinizing it carefully. Perhaps Chihiko had been wrong about their arrogance and trust after all.
"Oi, Kotetsu, give it a rest…" the other guard chimed in, annoyed by all the fidgeting. He pulled his legs off the table casually, letting his sandals slap on the ground noisily. "Interrogating the poor-girl isn't going to make the sun move any faster. She's probably just some messenger from…"
The man paused as he glanced at the passport quickly, flashing a grin at Chihiko, one that made her just a little bit uncomfortable.
"The Waterfall village? Don't see many of you around here. Anyway, she seems candid to me."
"Thank you, I'll only be in the village for a short time," Chihiko slowly exhaled, the knot in her chest loosening just a little and she placed her identification back into the safety of her leg holster. Not wanting to push her luck, she started to turn away as the man closed his eyes, obviously preparing to pile on the charm.
"Well, you have a nice stay," the man answered, straightening the bandanna on his head, "You know, the village is pretty big, and if this is your first time here, you might get lost. I get off in a few, how about a show you arou-"
He opened his eyes again, astonished to find that the girl was suddenly gone, already far into the village. Blinking his eyes, stuck in a sort of bewilderment, the guard slouched back into his chair, legs parted and hands draped languidly to his sides. He turned to look at his colleague only to see that he too was ignoring him as well, nose stuck in his magazine once more.
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Now inside the village, Chihiko put her most inoffensive face on, melding in with the other citizens. When a person offered her a "hello" or a wave, she answered it as if she had known them all her life. After awhile, this sort of behavior started to grow on Chihiko. Even though these people would forget her within minutes, for now, at least in pretend, they were her companions. This sort of masquerade reminded her of the thrill she had experienced when she had met Zaku, and she suddenly realized with a pang of guilt that no one here or anywhere could compare to him. There was nothing in the world that could compare with your first true friend.
Right away, she stopped with the artificial, imitated salutations. She was a visitor, an intruder even, not some permanent resident familiar with these people and the streets they traversed. Even though it made sense to assimilate with those around her while on a mission, Chihiko refused to act as if she knew these people, refused to sully the purity of her bond with the Waterfall village and with Zaku. With an impartial eye, she resumed her search through the town.
Something she noticed immediately was the atmosphere of Konoha. Everyone seemed so friendly and open-armed, so full of vigor, whereas in the Waterfall village everyone seemed to struggle just to make ends meet. The longer she observed her surroundings, the more she came to understand that her home village was a dreary place, a mere stick in the mud when compared to this opulent shinobi metropolis.
So this is why the chief is so envious of Konoha…can't say I blame him, she thought to herself as she entered what she took to be one of many market places. Rows upon rows of stalls were already in full-boom, customers lining up for miles to purchase fresh produce and fish, to gaze longingly at expensive clothing and glittering jewelry.
But then with a small smile, Chihiko realized that this sort of thing wasn't really for her, this bustle and hustle didn't suit her very well. She desired peace at the end of the day, the calm of her quiet, if not barren, dojo, the solitude the vacant streets of her village provided. Sure, things were pretty and fascinating and all that, and she was certain there were some who could grow comfortable with such a rampant world, but for Chihiko it was all too much. Already, a faint headache was beginning to swell in her head, the clamor of the busy streets bombarding her senses. This was so new to her; Chihiko hoped she could retain the facade of an acclimated citizen for the remainder of her mission.
One thing Chihiko was grateful for was the fact that she'd chosen to wear her civilian clothes. When she'd first arrived in Konoha, she'd noticed how brilliant the buildings were. Now she realized that the people of this town were just as brightly colored, dressed in all sorts of colors, from pinks to oranges, dark blues to the brightest pastels. With her outfit of happy yellow, even if it was a muted hue, she at least to be just another anybody. Her drab sparring gear would have attracted far too much attention, just as she had presumed.
Now if only this thing offered me some more modesty! Chihiko thought again as she pulled the skirt down as far as it would go, wishing that it were a few inches longer. However, it seemed to be the fashion around here, as she looked at a group of two girls close to her own age standing close to a flower shop, talking loudly about the latest fashions, or who they were seeing, or what they would be doing tonight.
Both of them were wearing skirts just as short as Chihiko's, one of them even shorter, and they didn't seem against showing more then a little bit of skin or wearing glamorous makeup. Perhaps it was customary for the girls of this town to dress as such on an everyday basis, to already be thinking of romance and dating? She pondered this as she passed by the girls, thinking to herself just how anyone could move or fight in such ill-fitting apparel. They would probably be too concerned about chipping a nail to really commit themselves to any sort of battle.
Their actions seemed so inane and ridiculous to Chihiko; shouldn't they be training or on a mission? She glanced back just to check, and affirmed that each of them was wearing a Konoha forehead protector, albeit in different, more "fashionable" ways. One of them even had hers like a headband, using it to keep her shocking pink hair out of her eyes. In the her home village, those qualified to receive a shinobi forehead protector always wore it either across their brow or wrapped around their upper arm, as Chihiko did. This guaranteed that their village's crest would be visible. Only a person who was punching the pink-haired girl on the top of her head would see that she was a citizen of Konoha.
To Chihiko, it seemed like the two girls too much time on their hands, gallivanting about loudly. She felt as thought they should be ashamed of themselves, acting so...so feminine.
Maybe they have too many shinobi; they don't know what to do with them all, Chihiko wondered, as she now noticed that at least one out of every three villagers wore a forehead protector, and of that, several of them were also wearing Chuunin vests. Chihiko was beginning to understand Onoda-sama's urgency to promote her to the esteemed Jounin level.
None of these interesting revelations changed the fact that Chihiko was no where near finding Zaku's murderer. Every face was new to her, every twist and turn of the village was just another piece of a never-ending maze. Should she ask someone for help, or spy for a few days instead? If the men at the front gate or the gabbing kunoichi were any indication of what the sample population was like, perhaps some questioning would lead her in the right direction.
"What am I going to say?" Chihiko sighed, realizing that asking for a boy infested with insects might seem a little suspicious. No, for now at least, staying in the shadows and watching silently seemed to be her best, and wisest, option.
"But first, I think some much-needed rest is in order."
Chihiko's face lit up at the thought of a cozy bed and a nice glass of cold water. The idea was rather cathartic. Immediately she started looking for a hotel or inn that had rooms available.
Walking the streets at a measured pace, the girl realized that finding a place to stay wasn't going to be hard at all. There were countless establishments to choose from, from small, picturesque chalets to beautiful and luxurious villas. However tempting it was to splurge on one of the pricier hotels, Chihiko knew well enough that her ryo had to last the entire duration of her mission, and who knew how long that was going to be.
She was used to sleeping in a quaint, yet comfortable bed, so it wasn't like she was going to be disappointed. It was just that the thought of staying in a fancy holiday home was a little exciting to the "country-bumpkin" of a kunoichi.
She stopped at a small inn that stood between a convenience store and a pharmacy. Tilting her head back, she was happy to see the words "Vacancy" glowing green from the neon-sign. A comforting vibe emanated from the abode, and Chihiko felt as though invisible strings were pulling her, inviting her inside.
Chihiko pushed the door in and a musical chime called out, announcing that a customer had entered the main lobby. Since it was empty at the moment, Chihiko took this time to look around the room, which was shaped like a square with sixteen feet on each side, a small hallway leading to the left. There was a table in one corner, a ceramic vase filled with azaleas sitting on it. A larger table was in the other corner; on it were two neat piles of paper, a couple of pens laying next to them.
She found herself satisfied by her decision; the floors were clean and well-scrubbed and several pretty paintings adorned the lightly-worn walls of the hotel. The glass windows were clean and nothing seemed out of place. Some might have called the hotel tacky, but to Chihiko, it was just the place she needed: nothing too fancy, nothing too expensive. It perfectly echoed her room in the Waterfall village with its quality-over-quantity appeal.
Just as she was about to investigate further into the hotel, the pitter-patter of feet upon linoleum tiles came from the dark hallway, slow and steady like an old tortoise. Chihiko waited patiently behind the table with the papers as the owner of the sagging steps finally revealed himself to be young man, much to Chihiko's well-hidden surprise. His movements were made possible through the use of crutches, and it was obvious that walking was a painful ordeal. He was missing his right leg, the stump of it hidden by his pant leg. Not wanting to seem rude, Chihiko smiled genuinely at the attendant as he made his way towards her. He smiled in return, but it was so strained and tired that anyone watching would have said it was a grimace of sadness.
He was dressed in the garb of an average commoner and held himself like one, which made Chihiko feel at ease, for in the streets, the flashy clothing and behavior of most of Konoha's people unnerved her. The young man seemed down-to-earth, with his plain blue kimono jacket and gray pants. If one looked closely, they would notice that hidden in the fabric of his jacket was an elaborate design of vines and flowers, a small detail that pleased Chihiko, although she couldn't figure out why.
"Good morning, good morning," he said, finally reaching the table, panting slightly. He gently plucked the top paper from the stack, "Please excuse the wait, I hope it wasn't too long…I didn't hear the bell at first…need to get that thing fixed one of these days…much too soft."
"Are you the only one here? It must be hard to run a hotel all by yourself," Chihiko said, admiring his earnestness, the way in which he placed a pen in front of her, his thin fingers delicate and caring.
"Well, I make do with what I have, if you know what I mean," he replied truthfully, motioning towards his amputated limb, clucking his tongue, "But yes, it's just me here, Ishiraku of the Gentle-Springs. That's the name of this establishment, although the bathing spring won't be open for a little, not until the weather brightens up. Water's near freezing right now."
He paused, still winded from his trek to the front lobby, leaning up against his one crutch. Chihiko was about to say that cold water wasn't a bother when he spoke up again.
"Now then, I assume you're looking for a place to stay. Guess you must have traveled through the night…I don't get many visitors in the morning. All I need is a little bit of information and we'll get you a room," Ishiraku asked, smiling. Suddenly his smile changed into a deep frown as he seemed to remember something. Pressing a finger to his forehead, the man looked at Chihiko apologetically.
"I forgot I don't have any rooms ready at the moment. You came at an odd time you see and I still need to clean the most recently vacated room. Hard to get all these things tidied up when you're all by your lonesome, you see…I'm really sorry for this inconvenience, ma'am."
"There's no need for the regret," Chihiko said, a little letdown by this revelation. She had been looking forwards to resting up, but she supposed a little wait wouldn't kill her.
"Just give me a half-hour and I'll have a room all straightened up. I'll even throw in a free breakfast for all the trouble. I might not look like much of a cook, but I make a mean tamagoyaki!" he replied, hoping that his offer would appease the girl, "You look tired…come back later and one of our comfy beds will rejuvenate you in no time!"
Chihiko nodded, a little weary, but the man's kindness was infectious and slightly invigorating. As he walked away, his crutches moving quickly, Chihiko could already taste the delicious egg omelet on her tongue. With such good spirits, his cooking was sure to be fantastic. When he had disappeared back into the hallway, Chihiko walked out of the lobby, the bell chiming behind her happily.
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Back in the streets, Chihiko instantly missed the quiet of the Gentle-Springs and the subtle pleasantries of its owner. He reminded her of Hitaishii, and it was then that she realized why Ishiraku's jacket seemed so familiar; it was very similar to the one her teacher wore outside the dojo. Perhaps they had gotten it from the same tailor? Chihiko knew this was a foolish thought. There were probably millions of clothing stores in Konoha and the likelihood that Ishiraku had stumbled into the Waterfall village to purchase his jacket was very slim.
Still, the thought of the hotel owner and Hitaishii being connected in some slight and understated way comforted Chihiko, for there was little in Konoha that reminded her of home.
As the day approached late morning, the activity in the streets only multiplied. Once or twice, Chihiko swore that she had spotted a couple high-level shinobi dotting the corridors, putting her on high-alert. Unlike the talkative kunoichi from before, these fighters seemed much more professional, sporting Chuunin vests and the appropriate black or blue garments that she was accustomed to seeing a shinobi wear.
Spotting another shinobi from the corner of her eye, this one without a vest, Chihiko plunged herself into the thick of the morning crowd. She resented being in such a highly populated area, but the situation called for it. She doubted the guards at the front gate had suspected or reported her, but there had to be at least a few pairs of skeptical eyes in Konoha. If one looked hard enough, they would clearly see that Chihiko was no messenger from the Waterfall village. For one thing, she didn't have any documents on her person to deliver and her actions thus far hadn't been in accordance with her alibi. And of course, if they ran a background check on her passport, her entire cover-up would explode in her face.
Carefully, furtively, she looked ahead into a wind-chime that had several mirrors dangling from it. With the reflective surfaces twisting in several directions, Chihiko was able to glance behind her without directly doing so. Thankfully no one was following her, at least not yet.
At some point, there was going to be a fight, Chihiko just had to be ready for it when it happened.
Chihiko wasn't a naïve youth, she knew nothing stood dormant and peaceful forever, plans were always in motion, even when you couldn't see it for yourself. She had been cautious and wary this entire time, but some things you just couldn't control.
Her entire body was anticipating something, anything, and it was only exhausting her further. At this point, she needed to collect herself, gain her bearings within the confines of privacy. Breathing softly, Chihiko wandered the streets, wondering when her room would be prepared.
Passing by the noisy crowd, avoiding the blurs of human bodies that culminated around her, Chihiko spotted an empty bench on the side of the street. A dull ache resounded in her legs again, reminding her of the colossal strain she was fighting.
"It will only be for a moment…" she spoke aloud, too fatigued to keep her thoughts silent. Chihiko plopped onto the wooden seat and instantly an air of intoxicating relief swept through her worn limbs. How good it felt to finally sit and rest! Hands folded in her lap, Chihiko let her breaths flow freely and slowly, basking in the radiance that immobility provided.
From above, much too high for anyone to immediately spot, a figure crouched on the roof of a huge hospital's northern most wing, covered in a white cloak, his face obscured behind a mask formed into the visage of a cat. Behind him, three others stood. They were all clothed in the same garb, the only difference being the shape of their masks. The first person, presumably the leader of the small squadron, tapped the miniature transmitter that was attached to a collar on his neck, the microphone secured onto the portion of his mask nearest the mouth, secured by a strip of clear tape.
"The target has stopped moving, what are your orders?" he says in a raspy and muffled voice. It is emotionless and uncaring, the voice of an assassin preparing to take down his mark.
A collective murmur was heard from the other end of the radio, and then silence. Finally, a haughty, empowered voice speaks up, seeping with authority.
"Engage."