This chapter is way too long ;w; xD I'm terribly sorry.
I'm sorry this took such a long time xDD I was working on two one shots for that 'breathe again: odds and ends" thing I have up xD It took alot longer than I expected, but I kind of wanted to get those done before I submitted this because Gyouten's..um...'parenting' is called into question here xD
Anyways, again, this one's Unbeta'd xD so I aoplogize for any and all mistakes.
Uh... Maneki Neko are these little good luck charm thingies that are little waving cats. What they represent has to do with the colour. Mi-ke cats (which are orange, white and black) bring good luck, while red ones bring good health, and black ones are supposed to ward off evil spirits, and demons and whatnot n.n There are more, (pink is love, green academic acheivement, etc) but these are the three mentionned xD
Oh xD and to Jane the flipper: According to Nobukane, yeah, Tsubasa IS really feminine-looking xDD
So... I apologize for the crappiness here xD thank you all who've read this, or reviewed it, and I hope you enjoy this chapter too
Disclaimer: Naruto belongs to Masashi Kishimoto, and both Aoyama Naoko and Tsubasa belong to Nobukane
Creaking paces over newly bloodied steps brought Ogakuzu out into the dim evening fog, that had dissipated over the course of the day. A bird was chirping somewhere in the faint glow of sunset, out of place amongst the area's gloomy air, and desolate structure.
Dewy grass was cold against bare, sandalled toes as he cut across it, to the idle figure laying a short ways away, head bowed wearily. "It's not as bad as it feels." He stopped, a small ways away, and smiled despite her failure to reply. "He didn't take much, but having even a little taken like that feels dreadful. I wouldn't try moulding any, but you're not going to faint, and you certainly aren't going to die. Just wait, you'll perk up soon enough."
She was shivering, arms clutched tightly across her chest to preserve heat, and put pressure on the gash along her forearm, that was still oozing blood lazily, through the half-sealed wound. The ninja swordsmen were secretive by nature, and it was rare that Kisame reveal anything of the kind about himself, or Samehada, so naturally, their newest member would have been completely in the dark, let alone an outsider. But he had been with the group through many years, and many of Samehada's wielders, and knew well enough what the weapon was capable of. To have one's chakra stolen felt very much like dying. The warmth and strength were sapped simultaneously, and the victim was left virtually helpless.
Again she said nothing, as he sat down beside her, a gesture that apparently went unappreciated. Shamed thoroughly, the girl simply turned away. "Hey, don't feel bad." The older man eased, with a smile she couldn't quite read. "They attack each other all the time. You held your own against Risu well enough, and that's usually how the rows go. One decisive hit, and the whole thing dies down."
Kotone nodded briefly, and the swordsman grinned, dropping his voice to a mischievous hush that did not suite his age by any means. "Kurosuki blind sided Momochi on his first day with us. He was out cold for an hour."
"What?" Her eyes flew open, as she turned, gaping at the other. He smiled at his success, and her distraction, and nodded.
"Mhmm. Took us quite a while to convince Raiga he hadn't killed him. He was beside himself. But he's always beside himself... Odd man, Raiga. Only drinks when we all get together like that. He's happy when he's drunk- Says it's the only way he can stand us. He's very different..." The last part was an absent mutter, more to himself than to the kunoichi, who had indeed regained a bit of colour in her cheeks.
"When he's sober?"
Ogakuzu shook his head. "From one minute to another. Anyways, he may have gotten Zabuza once, But then it never happened again; same with you. You now know to avoid Samehada. I doubt he'll ever pull anything like that again anyways... Kisame is usually more civil. Besides..." He sighed. "Don't worry yourself with keeping up with that man. There's no shame in defeat. We may be the seven strongest in the village, and I don't doubt your worth, but there's an enormous discrepancy between that man, and the rest of us. Hoshigaki Kisame is an anomaly. It was two against one, anyways. Three if you count Risu."
"Yeah." She admitted with a glum firmness. She quirked an eyebrow at the last bit, but chose to ignore it, for the time being. "But I'm going to have to go back to work tomorrow. With Naoko. Who'll spend the next long while laughing, and telling everyone how I got my ass handed to me by her sensei."
Ogakuzu nodded, still agreeable, and still baffling. She studied his face, noting that he was probably taking the opportunity to do the same. Bright green eyes, much keener than she'd have imagined with a man that age, were fixed on her intently. The lines around his eyes were prominent, mouth less so, and he seemed in excellent condition for a man of his age. She'd have placed him in his late fifties, at the least.
"Hm..." He interrupted her scrutinizing. "You don't look much like your father, do you?"
"You knew my father?"
"Vaguely... He was tall like you, you've that in common... and you've got his eyes."
"Do I?"
"You don't know?"
The kunoichi smiled weakly. "I... I remember he wore glasses... But I can never really remember him looking at me. Not enough to see the colour..." The dark haired girl trailed off, trying to summon up his image in her head. Bleary pieces, all well enough on their own, but didn't nearly fit together. Not enough to form a decent memory, anyways.
"Well then," He stood, ignoring the wet patches the dampened grass had left on his clothing. "We should get that arm of yours fixed up. And that netting."
"What do you care?" Her tone was wary, and she followed suite, standing, though a fair ways away.
His smile, frighteningly genuine, never wavered. Smirks, and false grins she could deal with, but this man was odd. He was being...pleasant? She bit her lip, the odd twinge of unfamiliarity making her hesitant. "I know that Kusari Katabira's maker." He explained. "I can't bear to see it damaged when it could be fixed so easily. Come with me," He turned, disappearing around a corner.
Kotone blinked, frowning. Strangers were... well, strange. Odd for an interrogator, she knew. But this was different; a specific piece of information, a confession, yes, that she could do. Analyse someone's behaviour, see what makes them tick...? Sure. But relating to someone she knew nothing about? She winced, and against her better judgement, satisfied the compulsion to follow him.
True to his statement, she could indeed feel her strength returning, little by little.
She trotted after, catching sight, and following at a considerable distance. "Why is this place so empty?" In spite of herself, the question entered the dark, ominous night. It had been driving her mad since she'd set foot in the place. An evil clung to the houses overgrown with ivy, cracked windows, and rotting shingles. Their village was crowded, and housing nearly impossible to find... so why would this immense area be left abandoned?
"Oh," He chuckled, keeping his gait. "You didn't know? The locals believe that this place...well... haunted."
"H...haunted?" She was very glad that he wasn't looking, because she'd gone quite pale all of a sudden. The desolate atmosphere, and ghastly aura the place seemed to give off did nothing to disprove this. "Why... Why do they say that?" He was silent, and a prod of 'sir?' was necessary.
"This is the old Kaguya compound." He explained, his gaze trailing over the cracked and mottled stone walls, a bit too fondly. "A long time ago... well, long before you were born, they were chased out of the village. Slaughtered. Mostly here. Check some of the rooms, they're virtually untouched. The bloodstains are still there." His tone had turned grave, a bitter whisper- but he amended it to his usual cheer. "But that's just superstition, of course. There's no such thing as-" Kotone was suddenly walking quite a bit closer, hands now gripping her arms much more tightly, eyes flickering around the deserted pathways with a dull gleam of dread. "Um... are you all right?" She nodded, though it was far from convincing. She was much too busy hiding from the ghosts to care.
"You're scared, aren't you?" He asked in an amused disbelief. "All the dangerous crap you do as a jonin, and you're afraid of ghosts?"
"You can't kill a ghost." She answered simply.
"Ahh... I see."
They reached the edge of the compound in record time, Kotone driving the pace quicker and quicker until the left him behind, sprinting headlong into the village's more populated street, and finally relaxing a bit. Ogakuzu just shook his head, and continued at his more leisurely speed.
The streets were empty, save the odd scuffle of a homeless child between alleyways, or a worker drifting home late. Both Ogakuzu and Kotone watched a dangerously scrawny little boy scamper past, a listless pang of something she'd rather ignore burning in her chest... and the mark on her lower back.
"I'm curious... What was it in Risu's 'bitch' comment that angered you?"
"Because I'm not," She muttered indignantly, and perhaps, he noted, a tad disheartened. "I'm not Zabuza's anything."
Green eyes widened, and a pale eyebrow arched. "That was it?"
"Well, yeah... 'bitch' implies..." She made a face. "Subservience. He doesn't own me or anything. Mizukage Sama does."
Ogakuzu stopped dead. Something about the casual tone with which she'd said this caught him off guard. "And you're alright with that."
"Of course. I just do what he tells me. "
"Why?"
"What?"
"Why?" He repeated calmly, head tilted. "Why just follow orders? Do you ever decide things yourself?"
"Well... not really, no..." He watched with a knowing nod as she stumbled for an appropriate answer, only to fail miserably. "Ninja just do. It's our duty, isn't it?"
"I expected as much." Much to the kunoichi's surprise, he seemed disappointed. This puzzled her, as that answer had always won approving nods from others who'd asked; teachers, superiors, that sort of thing. He just shook his head, pushing a few loose strands of white blond hair back with the rest, where it was tied at the base of his skull. "You know... a friend of mine's daughter loves Ikebana."
If Kotone had heard, at any point, a more irrelevant remark, it wasn't coming to mind.
"Adores plants. Problem is, not many flowers grown in this country, and keeping foreign ones are expensive." Senility had definitely set in, as he continued to expand on the inconsequential talk of flowers. "She does what she can with the few we get in the summer, yes, but mostly, she just reads about them. A lot of them have meanings, and what not, things associated with them. Camellias are graciousness...Ivy is fidelity... Momo blossoms represent grace, and feminine beauty-"
"Pffffffffffft!" The anticipated bust of laughter was clumsy, and more relaxed than anything he'd heard the girl say, up until then. She tried to calm herself, straining to gather up the scattered scraps of her dignity; she bit her lip against the chuckles at her partner's rather unfortunate name, and the conflicting ideas it presented.
"So you have your father's teeth as well." He commented, as another howl of laughter bared her pointed canines. She just nodded, breath finally calming, her professional composure in giggling ruins, at her feet.
"Baika, are interesting as well. For example," He started again. "Plum blossoms are seen as a symbol of spring, in some places. In others, they represent tenacity, and overcoming hardships; they bloom in the snow, when all the other plants have wilted." Ogakuzu had slowed his pace; the kunoichi in front of him only beginning to decelerate, as something in his words clicked into place. "So imagine my surprise; finding a little girl named 'Ume' frozen in an alleyway, and yet somehow still breathing. Quite the coincidence, don't you think?"
Kotone stopped dead, pale eyes- her father's eyes- wide in unfettered shock.
"It was you." She mumbled, turning slowly to face the still smiling green eyed man. "The day that... well when..." She stopped herself, both of them knowing the terrible event in question. "It was you who saved me." He nodded, flashing an impish little grin, and bowed, hands folded behind his back in their country's fashion.
"Ogakuzu Misao: referee of the final genin exam. Pleased to make your acquaintance."
vvvvvvvv
"Toukou!" Misao cupped his hands around his mouth, the name drawn out as he called into the stairwell behind the counter. "Come one, Kajiya, I know you're in here; the fire's lit!"
Despite his calls, the tiny shop he'd led her to- a smithy, as it happened- seemed empty. Unlike the majority of the country's structures, made either of the local cheap, soft wood or dreary concrete, the forge was made of brick, in case of fire. a counter lay in front of two doors, one to the left, and closed, the other slightly ajar and leading down an orange-lit flight of steps.
Up on the walls, to either side, lay shelves and shelves of honed metal. Kunai glinted red in the far away firelight, a spark of brightness running along the sharpened edge of each shuriken as she swayed anxiously in place. More unusual weapons were presented as well, and Kotone's eyes passed admiringly over each. "An armoury, senpai?"
He nodded. "My teammate runs the place." He chuckled at the girl's startled reaction, and felt an explanation was in order. "I was a genin once too, you know. Back in the days before the system you know was put into place. Kajiya, Hinageshi chan, and I were quite the team. Until...well..." The much older jonin put a hand to his chin thoughtfully. "On one of our missions together... I was knocked out." He started slowly, hesitating. "When I woke up, in the hospital... Hinageshi... She was dead, and Kajiya couldn't fight anymore. He decided to stay as close to the shinobi career as he could, without a actually being one. He knew a fair bit about weapons, and went into the business of making them."
The kunoichi cocked her head to the side, flinching at the thought of his teammate's predicament."Why did he have to give up fighting?" She whispered, eyes wide in what was a great deal too much uneasiness.
"You'll see." He replied hurriedly, as an uneven thumping was heard from behind the closed door.
"Keep your nets out!" Someone, another older man it seemed, called gruffly from the other side. Another thump, and the door swung open, a figure hopping into the store. Kajiya was an older man, hair darker than Misao's and flecked starkly with grey and white. He was hunched over a wooden crutch -end blackened and charred from being used as a poker- jammed under one arm. Kotone bit her lip, eyes trailing down his side. One sturdy leg stepped, and then the hop and clatter of wood against stone as his support acted on behalf of the leg that would have occupied his folded up pant leg.
Something cold settled into her stomach, as it knotted itself. Not disgust, or distain, but a deep terror, induced not so much by the sight as the concept. Not able to fight....? She pictured herself in the same situation, and felt a shiver down her spine, contemplating how close she'd come to being rendered useless a few years earlier. Without really meaning to, she'd begun to trace the still clear lines torn into her skin under the ruined metal mesh.
He'd limped around the counter to face her, and grabbed her injured arm with no explanation, frowning and muttering as he examined the damage. "How did you do this!?" He demanded, turning with a sigh before being answered. "Take it off; I'll mend it for you. Now as for the bleeding..." Kajiya turned, hopping towards the open door leading to the forge, and raised his tone, calling for someone who was apparently lingering down there. There was a murmur, low voices her brain immediately assessed as male. A couple of higher sounds- female, more than one- shushed them with a nervous giggle, and the pounding of footsteps on stone steps- two pairs, was heard. She took a moment to raise an eyebrow at the analytical compulsion her auditory training had left her.
A girl, her own age, or perhaps a touch older, was the first to poke her head around the doorframe. Dark, straight hair that might match the few coloured strands Kajiya had left fell down her back, deep brown eyes glinting orange in the firelight. Her smiling face was red, and streaked with soot and she pulled heavy leather gloves off of sweaty hands before smudging the ashes on her cheek.
She was pretty, with large, cheery eyes, and a defined bone structure common amongst their people. But Kotone's attention was elsewhere, on things her shinobi mind deemed much more significant. Her focus were the strong shoulders that were uncommon amongst civilians, the heavy, blackened apron that marked her as proficient in her father's profession. Most villagers in the city, women especially, were small, malnourished and feeble. As a worker, however, she looked strong and this somehow put the kunoichi at ease. Of course wouldn't be as strong as a she was, or any ninja, but among normal humans, a blacksmith's strength was still nothing to be sneezed at.
The second thing that caught her eye were the colourful arrangements out of place in corners, and between weapon displays. Vases, and shallow basins full of paper flowers, and ones that were currently in season made the place look almost cheery. Some were really just twists of packing tissue, coloured expertly with chalk. A bowl of water lilies was closest to her, and a tiny smile pulled at the corner of her mouth. Local flowers, pressed and preserved carefully, hung on the walls in metal frames that she must have made. White, and deep pink Baika were common, and the Ume girl eyed them for a long moment.
Pressed peach blossoms almost incited another giggling fit.
"This is my daughter, Kiku," Kajiya interrupted her distraction, and she bowed quickly, hands folded behind her back as was their custom. Kiku, not military, bowed more gracefully, and without a ninja's sharp curtness. Of course, there had been another set of footsteps, and the second figure emerged from the fire's shadows and stairwell. Kotone's eyes went wide. "And this is-"
"Shinju?"
Sure enough, the tiny, pink clad medic hopped up the stone steps after the metalworker, delicate face and dark skin unmistakable. She brushed a lock of perfectly straight, jet black hair behind one ear, and glanced behind herself nervously. Were Kotone particularly interested in the party downstairs, she might have pursued this odd behaviour further. "Hello,"
"What the hell are you doing here?" Kotone's dark eyebrows were quirked, eyeing the other's sudden baffled expression, and faltering stance.
"Me?" She asked softly. "I...um..I well...Surgical grade scalpels!" She blurted with a sudden look of triumphant glee.
"Wha?"
"Um...I mean..." Her usual calm had returned, and she smoothed out the front of her clothing. "The chakra scalpel technique isn't right for every injury." She explained. "We medic nin need tangible ones too. I get them here, the quality is fantastic." She nodded approvingly at Kajiya and his daughter, who smiled. Shinju's bow, however, directed her attention to the orange red splotches gathering on the floor beneath the other kunoichi, and her smile faded. "What's wrong with your arm?"
"Nothing." Misao elbowed her in the ribs, with a paternal glare. Kotone muttered something, and reluctantly offered her forearm to the older girl, who at once began fussing over the severity, and neglect of immediate treatment. "Take off the fishnetting, I need to fix this."
"And I need to repair that?" Kajiya reminded.
The eighteen year old shook her head, and the two repeated themselves. "Can't I keep it on?" The two shook their heads, and her stomach knotted.
"You're wearing something under it, right?" Shinju was gazing at the torn flesh anxiously, as though it had a quickly diminishing expiry date.
"Well, yeah, but..." She hissed, and pulled her other arm from her yukata's sleeve, glancing hesitantly at the room's other occupants, before unzipping the metal mesh, monochromatic harlequin patterned film of cloth sticking to her bloodied skin as she peeled it off. Always conscious of the others's eyes on her, training partner's occasional mention of his disdain for scars ringing in her ears, she flinched as she handed the mess of wire and fabric to the blacksmith, and surrendered her wound once more to the medic.
Kiku gasped, and she knew that the girl had caught sight of the disgusting, jagged lines torn into the pale skin of her back, still dark, and clear. It was foolish to worry about something so trivial, especially given Kajiya's company. They were well sealed, and were in no danger of reopening, and so they posed no threat. Still, though, her heart sank, as she glanced down at the patches of scar tissue weaving across her chest above, and below the sarashi binding her breasts flat, cris crossing behind them, and continuing down. They were hideous, but worst still, as Zabuza had pointed out, a constant reminder of her foolishness.
She was stupid, and the marks proved it. He knew it, she knew it, and now, they did too.
"So it is true, then." She bit her lip, upon hearing Misao breathe this. Not accusingly, but oddly interested. The girl turned away as much as she could manage, with Shinju's hand pumping medical chakra into the damaged tissue, which tingled, and burned as it shifted itself back into place. She heard the two smiths scurry downstairs to take care of the damaged work, but that still left the three of them, and that was two too many for Kotone's liking.
She yanked the pale blue cloth back over herself the moment Shinju's grasp released the now seamless patch of flawed skin, and hurried from the shop with a quick, but sincere thanks the moment the security-inducing metal netting was returned to her hands.
Misao called out a meeting place for the next day: a training field that was thankfully outside of the Kaguya quarter, and his only sign that she'd heard was her appearance there the next day.
He'd wasted no time in explaining his intentions. He was soon to retire, needed an apprentice who would one day take his place in the group, and she had been nominated. She said nothing, and stared at him blankly for a long moment. Misao knew the look well, and had long since considered it the ANBU equivalent of shock. But slowly, she'd nodded her head, and he delved directly into training his new student.
"First of all," He explained, smiling, and untying the bandages that kept the oversized sword to his back. "This is Kiyoshi." He let her examine the serrated edge, and scarlet thread wrapped hilt, the girl tracing the odd golden yellow strand that had been braided in somehow. But he stopped her when she moved to pick it up, and test the weight for herself. "Woah, woah, woah, hold it. First things first." His smile brightened, and he lifted the thing- which was roughly her own size- over his shoulder. "The most important thing to know about a weapon isn't how to use it, but how your opponent will react when you do use it. You have to know the counters before you can counter the counters. Got it?" She said nothing, still eyeing him warily, calculatingly. "In other words... I'm just going to kick your ass with this thing until you figure out how to stop me."
"Wait; what?" His grin was misleading, and the realisation sunk in a second too late. Kotone gaped, and threw herself out of the way as he brought the edge down where she had been sitting a fraction of a second earlier.
"What, you were waiting for me to say go?" He chuckled, raising the blade again. "There's no 'go' in a fight, kid." Kotone's only response was to spring immediately to her feet, and ready her stance. She jumped out of the way as he brought it down again, and was taken aback by the speed with which the sixty year old moved with the impractical weapon. She was faster, though and dodged, and flipped out of the way, albeit with more difficulty than she'd have imagined. It was after a long while that she felt herself falter, and the sweeping flash of metal struck her in the abdomen, sending her sprawling back across the training ring. She grit her teeth, waiting for the spray of blood and flesh, and splitting pain that being slashed in half would inevitably cause.
"Wha?" She sat up, and noted with a relieved sigh that she was, in fact, in one piece, and completely unharmed.
Misao ran a finger down the flat edge of the blade, and smiled. "Did I mention that this end is blunted?"
Kotone, smiled, before really realising that she had. "No, you hadn't."
"That's enough for now. I'm old, I need a break." The man dropped to a cross legged sit with a vigour that disproved the statement. Kotone's hands curled in the grass between her fingers, and her gaze turned skywards. It was awkward, now. When he was instructing her, there was a clear purpose in their talking, but now... She made a face. She was no good at this. Usually that didn't bother her. Usually she could go home, and speak with her... What was he now, anyways? He'd taken to training alone, he was almost never in the house... Well... Whatever he was.
Say something... Say something... There were two things she'd stowed at the back of her mind; questions she'd like him to answer. One was a bit personal, and she decided to confront this later, and opted for the first.
"Earlier... What did you mean "two against one?"
"Samehada." Misao's mouth was pressed into a thin line, as he considered how exactly to word this. "It's... sentient. It's alive."
Kotone's eyes widened, as she sat up straighter. Alarm caused her brow to furrow, then her eyebrows arched quizzically as she processed this impossibility. "Alive?"
"Yes." He inclined his head thoughtfully. "I've never really heard it explained, but I've been around for a while, and I've seen several people use it. It's some sort of... blood pact, with the sword. They're joined, somehow. Symbiotic almost. Samehada eats chakra, and Kisame- like all the other users- has an unbelievable chakra reservoir. I don't believe that this is a coincidence."
"Is that why...?"
"Why he looks like a shark?" Misao blinked baldly. "Well, his sensei did, and that one's sensei did, so... I'd assume that was the reason. It's a big deal, when one of the swordsmen dies. The place needs to be filled, especially with Samehada. It will only accept a new master after the last one has died-"
"Wait, wait, wait...!" Kotone interrupted hurriedly. "Does that mean that if Hoshigaki Senpai dies... Naoko's going to turn blue?"
Misao shook his head. "I don't think he plans on passing it on to Aoyama. He says it's 'not her thing'." Kotone nodded, and another silence settled between the teacher and his student. He dismissed her, and set another meeting time, which she kept. She refused to return to the supposedly haunted quarter, and so he continued to use the training ring.
Oddly, Zabuza seemed to be spending more and more of his free time training at the Kaguya grounds instead of at home. When he asked the Kunoichi, she informed him with a sigh that they hadn't spoken since he'd first dragged her to their meeting. Misao frowned, and crossed his arms across is chest. "Well that's not good." Her ability to feign indifference was impressive, so he insisted, and she insisted that she couldn't care less. He had simply sighed, and dismissed her for the day again, and let her return to her duties at the interrogations department.
The boy was sullen, and always of a foul temper when the senior ninja came across him practising or simply loitering in the shadows of the Kaguya clan's ruins. Zabuza would glare, and slink of wordlessly to some other abandoned corner of the compound.
A week since they'd begun training, Misao began to notice a considerable improvement. He'd failed to strike a solid blow, and she'd nearly gotten the weapon from his hands on a number of occasions. "I've got something for you," He announced, after calling a break.
The girl quirked an eyebrow, dark hair sliding over her shoulder as she tilted her head. She'd grown less awkward, speaking to the man. He was as kind as he was strange, and once she got over his unusual cheeriness that would usually have disqualified him completely from Kotone's mind as any sort of fighter.
He reached into his sleeve pocket, and withdrew something, tossing it to her. She caught it in one hand, and examined it carefully, turning it in her grasp. The dreary light that filtered through the fog and grey clouds glinted off the red paint of the tiny ceramic figure she held. It was a cat, smiling, hand caught in mid-wave. "This is... Thank you!"
He smiled. "It's nothing. They weren't expensive at all. I found them in a little stall on a mission a few days ago... thought they might help."
"Help?"
He leaned over, and dropped two more small, glossy cats into her hand. One was orange, black and white, and other a solid jet black. The maneki neko grinned up at her eerily, but her smile was genuine. She closed her hands around the dark one, and held it to her chest, tucking the others into her sleeve. With the black cat's protection, she felt safe following to the ghostly sector, though she still gazed warily at every shadow. Though, even without the ominous atmosphere, and the shades she swore she felt flitting about the dreary streets where they'd met ruin... perhaps she'd still have clutched at the cat.
She couldn't understand it; never before had any teacher really seemed to care if she succeeded. A gift of any kind was unthinkable, yet alone something so... thoughtful? Was that the right word? She opened her hand, and eyed the thing lovingly once more, before grasping it tight again, now smiling. The useless trinket's powers seemed to hold the phantoms at bay, and she could breath easily.
She recognized the large, traditionally crafted home that she'd been led to on her first meeting with the swordsmen. Rickety steps groaned in protest as they climbed, and stepped inside. He continued down the hall when she ducked into the first room, darting to keep up and trail his path through the unfamiliar building. "Someone else here?" Misao called when a dull creaking from elsewhere on the first floor met their honed ears. The lack of a response was answer in itself, and as he'd expected, Kubikiri Hocho lay deserted against the wall outside one door.
Kotone hurried her pace, and Misao slowed his so she pulled ahead, and entered the room first. "Zabuza?" The tall, figure, dark against the faded light spilling in through a dusty, cracked window from the evening outside. He looked up, and stood, from where he'd been leaning. She'd crossed the room to his side, but the young man never made eye contact, and headed for the door as just purposefully. She followed him with her eyes, but made no move to follow as he disappeared into the hallway.
He grimaced behind the cloth wrappings that hid his expression, mouth twitching in frustration. He growled, and snarled when something caught him by the chest, and kept him from fleeing further. "And just where do you think you're going?" Misao was grinning, flattened against the wall, one arm extended to block his escape. Zabuza shoved it away furiously, and so the older man simply caught him by the back of his shirt when he attempted to stomp away again.
"Let me go, old man."
He snapped. Misao just shook his head, smile ever present, bright eyes glinting mischievously. There was something decidedly feline in his student's mannerisms. She'd been wary for an unsettling amount of time, and was only just now beginning to warm up to the idea of her sensei. There was something pitiful, in watching a creature s guarded in her affections be spurned.
"I can't do that." He informed the irate demon calmly. "You do know my unofficial function in this group? I'm the mediator. I keep you all from killing one another during your little spats, remember? If she's to take over my position... I can't have any feuds involving her, and the others; that includes you. Sooo..." His smile widened, and he shoved the boy back into the room, sliding the door shut, and placing himself between the scowling jonin and the exit. "You two will just have to stay here until you work things out, now aren't you?" He was whispering just quietly enough to be discreet, which in mist ninja terms, involved very little volume. The girl staring despondently out the window turned her head to them for a moment, then chose to ignore her sensei, and supposed friend's conspiring. A dull rushing of words she chose not to hear floated by her, and she turned the cat-charm under her gaze again, watching the light move idly.
"Why are you doing this?" The boy hissed with a wary glance in the kunoichi's direction.
"You've always interested me." The older man admitted, to the younger's shock, and apparent disgust.
"I'm not some test subject to be studied." He spat, narrow eyes mirroring his disdain.
"You two are...fascinating. I mean, look at you: you're Mizukage Sama's worst nightmare. A complete partnership." Misao shrugged. "All of our kages, since the exam was first set in place, have been convinced that a situation like yours would breed disastrously weak ninja... and you're two of the strongest in the village."
The boy folded his arms, and grunted, tone and expression angry, indignant. "Partner? You're sadly mistaken, I'm afraid. That girl is nothing to me."
"Is that so?" The older ninja quirked a pale eyebrow, blithe expression never faltering. "I suppose... that's why you didn't help Kotone, earlier? Kisame San could have ended her..."
"It was her fight. She picked it. I'd no right to intervene- even if I had wanted to."
"That's funny..." Zabuza felt his shoulders tense. Ogakuzu was feigning thought, and that never boded well for the one he was arguing with. "Why did you flinch then?"
"Your mind must be going," He asserted. "I did nothing of the kind."
"No, no, I saw you jump, I'm sure of it..." Again, the fake-pensive frown. "When he threw her, you recoiled."
"It was the noise." His words were forceful; hissed through his teeth; each given the force of a nail being driven into solid oak. "That...That pathetic little kunoichi is none of my concern."
"Then why are we whispering? What's it to you if she hears?"
"You're reading too much into this, old man!" His tone was rising in agitation, though he always kept a cap on the amplitude; the kunoichi continued to tune them out, but it took a considerable amount of concentration.
"If you insist..."
"I'm not a child!" The demon interrupted, voice a restrained roar. "I don't need her anymore!"
He calmed quite suddenly in the silence that followed, sobered by the smile slowly creeping back to the blond's face. "But you did need her."
Zabuza's face twitched, half forming words, and then abandoning them when they seemed inadequate. He hesitated for a moment, before speaking again; he kept his voice cold, and level, despite the weight behind the reply he finally selected. "She's useless." In his country, there was no greater insult, and his eyes flashed dangerously; a cold fury in his expression. "Worthless little wretch needs our bastard kage to think for her."
Misao blinked, making sure that the girl hadn't heard. She hadn't looked over, or shouted back at him, but there was a pained look on her face that suggested she'd caught at least part it. A hurt expression she'd have been hasty to mask had she known anyone was watching.
The older man's smile faded, and his usually bright gaze turned reproachful. His voice had dropped from it's whisper; now, he simply moved his lips, and expelled air in a way that issued mere ghosts of words. "Tell me, Zabuza kun: Were your parents ninja?"
He sneered behind the bandages, and his reply came with less confidence than his insults had. "My father... may have been. I can't be sure."
"So you were raised by your mother." He nodded, and Misao's smile flickered back to life as he let his most earnest question fly. "Did she love you?" He was surprised that he received an answer, and not so much by it's content.
"On some days."
"I doubt she could say as much. You don't 'love' something you plan on sending to the academy to die." Misao's eyes were fixed on his, steadfast, and unwavering. "Ume Gyouten was... also of interest to me. And if I'm not mistaken, that girl wouldd have been taught to follow orders from the time she could stand. I'm amazed she can function at all, without instruction. So you'd have to excuse her a bit of weakness in that regard, hm?"
It was the demon who broke the uncomfortable eye contact, and directed his vexed gaze at the splintered floorboards. "I suppose. Doesn't change the fact: she'd of no use to me. As long as she follows... him... she's my enemy."
"Has she any idea what you're up to? Have you triedjust asking her if she'd help? You might be surprised, she's very... fond of you, you know." The boy let out a softer grunt, kicking absently at the corner of a mat on the floor. Ogakuzu sighed, and felt it would be best to take things into his own hands, again, and shoved the boy farther into the room. "Well? Go on." He encouraged, keeping himself securely between the ninja at odds, and the exit. Zabuza shot him a withering glare from over his shoulder, but wandered over to her corner. The kunoichi turned away more, hissing indignantly at his approach.
"Kotone," She didn't answer, and huddled a bit closer to herself by the windowsill.
"Where have you been?" She muttered without turning. "Missions, I know, I know, but even when you're home... even months ago, you disappear all the time at odd hours."
"I'm busy..." He replied carefully.
"With what?"
"I can't say."
Kotone turned, face a professional calm he recognized all too well. The interesting thing about jonin fighting... The calmer they look, the angrier they are. "You can never say, can you?"
A glance that were it not for his equally stony expression, might have seemed nervous passed over his shoulder, to the man leaning against the door. He was making a face one eyebrow raised in what the boy could only assume was a grim sort of amusement. "I... It has nothing to do with you." He asserted, and stepped nearer. "It's my problem."
"It doesn't have to be. If you want my help... All you need to do is ask..." She closed the distance between them, laying her head on his chest. Without really thinking, his arms encircled her waits and shoulders, holding her securely. It had been far too long since she'd been allowed this proximity, and she'd forgotten how wonderfully safe it felt.
Kotone sighed happily. He wasn't wearing his flak jacket, and she could listen to the steady beat pounding from his rib cage. That wonderful little reminder that beneath the bandages and scowl, he was, in fact, human. "So it is that you have a heart..."
The demon looked up to shoot a warning glare at the third party trespassing on what was, by ninja standards, an incredibly private moment. The older swordsman, sensing the conflict resolved favourably, decided it would be best to leave.
Zabuza bit his lip, the vulnerability of this situation not sitting easily with his training. Still though... This was not the sort of thing kunoichi were supposed to do. The Mizukage's permission was required for a female ninja wishing to consort seriously with any man, let alone another shinobi. Failure to receive such consent was punished harshly... And even if one did ask, it was possible to be denied. In times not so long ago, it wasn't uncommon for the kage to arrange mates amongst his ninja based solely on their strengths and weaknesses.
This wasn't much... A simply embrace, yes, but it was treading close to actual disobedience. Perhaps she was capable of it... "Kotone," He started carefully. "I've been... Well for a long time, I've had this... ambition, you could call it-"
Misao turned suddenly as the door was thrust away to the side violently, and a tired, dishevelled boy in tracker garb stumbled into the room. The two captains jumped away from each other; instantly standing inconspicuously on either side of the room before the green haired assassin could notice. "Zabuza Senpai!" Hiraku panted theatrically, bent over and resting against his knees as he 'struggled' to breathe. His endurance had never been much, and apparently he'd run here full tilt, but that should have been no trouble. "They're dead! Our... Daimyo... his wife and two of... his children! He's gone mad! Stark raving mad!" Kasumi choked out between dramatized gasps.
"Who?" Zabuza demanded sternly, as another young man, also heaving, albeit more genuinely, came to collapse against the doorframe. Nezumi Hatsuka pushed his hair from his panic stricken eyes, to reveal his shock blanched face. His tone was that of the condemned when he spoke next, and the three men bolted immediately from the room to tend to the calamity.
"Hoshigaki Kisame, sir. He's fled the village."