Samehada
Just A Starving Writer
Disclaimer: Standard disclaimer applies.
Author's Plea: I've had these drabbles sitting on my jump drive forever. Decided I might as well post them... Maybe picking up this drabble series will inspire my muse? Maybe... Enjoy if you can.
Part 2.
The Akatsuki members had managed to flee without seeming the least bit cowardly. She wondered what their secret was; whenever she tried to mimic Uchiha Itachi's nonchalant "We're done here" it never sounded quite as good.
Still, she couldn't say she blamed them for leaving. Once she'd gained possession of Kisame's sword, the entire balance of the battle had shifted. The Akatsuki as a whole and the Uchiha-Hoshigaki cell in specific weren't interested in a pyrrhic victory especially when the entire encounter was unplanned and without particular purpose.
However, the Akatsuki hadn't just left; they'd left the damn sword as well. It wasn't right for them to abandon such an apparently powerful weapon to their enemy, but the blue toned nin had merely grinned wryly and wished her luck before taking his leave.
Luck… the bastard had probably been glad to get rid of the damned sword. It was ridiculously heavy, difficult to carry, and –most importantly—taller than her. While she'd never really given a thought to her height, the sword stood a good seven inches over her head and made her look childish.
If she hadn't been persuaded to take it back to Konoha for inspection and possible duplication (at a more manageable level, of course), she would have thrown it far away and been done with the damned thing.
She'd tried to pass it off to the other members of her impromptu crew, but they looked at the hilt warily and refused. She knew they had more experience fighting the former Kiri-nin, but they weren't ready to speak about it.
The queasy feeling in her stomach told her she probably would regret knowing once she did discover the sword's history.