That took me way too long, considering how crappy it is XD;;; I'm working on way too much at once, and not really finishing anything XD the second half of that fic about Kotone's dad, and one about Risu, and the Nezumis XD both for "Odds and Ends"
um... XD hmmm... things to mention:
- this is really sick, but I nearly named the chapter before the one before this one "one fish, two fish, nuke nin blue fish" XDDD I love kisame.
- Fadz: the 'similar mental age' thing? XD Oh my god, you have no idea XDDDDD there's a really good example of that, but it's alot later XDDD
- ok, to reiterate the Kakashi thing, hopefully in a way that actually makes sense XD As I see it, Zabuza could have ended the whole Tazuna thing really easily. I mean, Haku, by Zabuza's own admission, was stronger than he was, and Zabuza doesn't seem the type not to use everything he has at his disposal. So, I guess there'd have to be a reason for not just having Haku take out Tazuna, Kakashi, whoever, as easily as he 'killed' Zabuza. Nobody noticed him there before then, so he definitely could have XD So, there'd have to be something in it for Zabuza; some benifite to fighting Kakashi himself, and Having Haku observe. If Zabuza's ultimate goal was to kill the mizukage, and the Mizukage was Uchiha Madara, the only way to 'practice' fighting a sharingan user, and figure out how to defeat it (er... have Haku figure it out XD) would be to fight Kakashi, since he didn't seem to know about Sasuke, and let's face it XDD Itachi'd kill him (Not to mention Kisame XDDDD) So...um... yeah XD;; There's my crackpot theory, anyways.
-OH! XD and here's a big thing. If Uchiha Madara is the Mizukage, Tsubasa couldn't possibly be his blood nephew. Nobukane's told me that they're not related by blood at all; Hachidaime just kinda took Tsubasa under his wing because he had a great deal of potential, and so Tsubasa considers him family. Yeah XD the manga keeps throwing us curveballs.
So, um... yeah! Please read, please enjoy, and please review! XD;; sorry for all the OOCness. I'm really sorry I'm so bad to Raiga here. D: XD;;; Mur, I fail.
Naruto: Masashi Kishimoto
Aoyama Naoko and Tsubasa: Nobukane
This wasn't like him.
The kunoichi sighed, tearing her aimless gaze away from the endless gray sky overhead when an icy drop of rain fell between her eyes. She scanned the blurry edges of the training field for movement, but saw nothing but the same still firs and carpet of translucent slush. Kotone grit her teeth, and let a sharp breath out from between them.
He was never late like this.
In the time she'd studied under Ogakuzu Misao, he had never once failed to appear in the clearing at whatever prearranged time; not once.
With an impatient growl, the nineteen year old began to pace the tree line absently, watching as one section shifted into her failing eyes' focus, and another part out again. She thanked whatever merciful gods were listening that it had grown no worse over the years. No disease, no danger of blindness: just a need for glasses she continued to neglect. A fact her teacher had prodded her about on more than one occasion. Perhaps when I'm old, like you, Sensei. She'd replied, with a sly grin. Misao had just laughed.
She huffed, as no sign of the man's approach, or intent to meet with her, made itself known.
The rain began to fall harder.
She circled, and muttered complaints and curses to herself as the freezing droplets of water beat down; crystalizing almost instantly to whatever it was they fell upon: the needles of the evergreens, the now wet snow, her hair, her eyelashes, the tiny gaps left by the metal mesh. She ignored the rain running from her soaking hair, plastering it to her face, and the way the katabira; the weapons in her sleeves; and small, round earrings felt cold against her skin.
This was becoming eerily familiar.
You're certainly full of surprises, little one.
Her path deviated, and slipped through a gap in the trees. The kunoichi sighed at the temporary respite from the icy downpour, only to step back into it a while later. The streets were deserted, save for the tiny shape; figure broken up by the rain from above, and glancing off the pavement from below; as it darted into one of the countless identical alleyways. Street children.
Something inside her constricted; she paid it no mind.
The way to the all but deserted Kaguya district was cold, and uneventful; each step fading into the next as the rain flooded her hearing, and boxing her in to a confining patch of visibility in all the watery confusion.
She was thankful for the wall of glacial raindrops keeping the foreboding homes of slaughtered bloodline users from her sight. The threat of angry souls had made her nervous before hand, but her sensei's stories from his childhood... The thought of the Kaguya's deaths- their execution- made her stomach lurch now. Her frozen fingers fumbled clumsily for the good luck charms in her sleeve. She withdrew the three-coloured cat, and held it tight; calming.
The house was difficult to find in the rain, or perhaps the search only felt longer. The prying eyes she was sure she was imagining- the ones she felt the trinket might keep at bay- were unnerving in the dismal weather.
"Sensei?" There was no answer as she knocked against the splintered wood door. She bit her lip, and pushed it open tentatively.
It was dark inside.
"Sensei!" Kotone called with more volume, cringing at the chilled puddle she was leaving on the once-nice floors.
There was no reply.
Her brow furrowed, and her pace quickened, as she threw back the sliding door, and let her compromised eyes take in the room. Her pulse slowed, and relief crept in where the dread had persisted. This was the wrong house; everything looked different.
Except that it wasn't.
Everything was there; the chairs she remembered, every shelf, book she couldn't hope to read, and potted plant- No doubt one of Kiku's- was exactly as she remembered it; the places, however, had been swapped. The entire room, which was disturbingly tidy- Zabuza tidy- had been completely rearranged.
Kotone scrunched up her face, disapprovingly, creeping towards a large floor rug that had been in the hallway not long ago. Sharpened fingernails plucked at the corner of the faded carpet, and the kunoichi bent to peer at the raised edge-
"Hikyuu?!"
She jumped, and whirled around on her heel. A dark, tall figure pulled himself from the storm. "Raiga?" The surprise kept her from editing the rude tone, or adding the proper honorific. "What the fuck are you doing here?"
She could see his outline clearly now, and there was no mistaking the voice. She flicked a switch on the nearby wall as she stepped forward, and his features sprang to life in the light.
Kotone took a step away.
There was no drunken rose to his face, and though his eyes were reddened, the scent of liquor did not accompany the swordsman.
He was sober; he was smiling; And for some reason she couldn't quite fathom, this made her blood run cold.
It occurred to her then that she was effectively cornered.
The grin couldn't quite be called 'happy' but she had no word in her vocabulary to accurately describe whatever it was across the man's face. It was manic; a sick, uncontrolled sort of mirthless glee. The bright drops gathered in his eyes, ready to spill over, had nothing to do with the rain. Crying...? The man was hysterical. That wasn't quite the right word... She bit her lip, and resigned herself to calling it 'happiness' however warped it was.
"Kotone," His smile took on a look of gruesome sympathy as he extended one hand. On instinct, the kunoichi froze as he rested it on her shoulder. "I'm so sorry..."
It was the look in his aquamarine eyes that gave her the answer she sought. Her voice faded to a weak whisper. "N...No..." Raiga's smile broadened impossibly, eyes distant.
There was only one thing that made Kurosuki Raiga that happy...
"No!" Training and conditioning forgotten, she shoved him away. "Where is he!?" Her voice had was pushing the limits of dignity- she was much too close to panic for anyone else to hear.
Death.
She barely registered the other voice from the doorframe, and the sudden chivalrous hand on her shoulder again, leading her outside.
"I'm dreadfully sorry. We've been trying to find you for a while now... I'm dreadfully sorry..." She registered numbly that it was Tsubasa rambling apology, shepherding her back out into the rain. "I was hoping to find you before he did." There was a bit of venom in his gallant tone. "It's terrible that you had to hear that way. Ideally, it should have been Momochi who broke the news, I know, but he's otherwise...occupied, at the moment..." She nodded weakly, not really taking in any of it.
The rain was freezing more quickly now, as the temperature had dropped. The chill was dulled, as was the sting of ice as the wind whipped it through the air; grazing her cheek, or glancing off; It didn't matter. Tsubasa was still rambling, though she found herself unable to understand him.
Shut up... Just shut up. Her mind pleaded, cursing whatever babbling it was she was unable to decipher.
There was rain- and then, suddenly, there wasn't; though the sound against the roof still betrayed the weather outside of their destination. Tsubasa had released her, and was striding ahead down the hallway of their normal haunt; Raiga had vanished somewhere along the way. Voices from the main room- incidentally, the only one she'd ever really seen- caught her attention as she followed the blond.
"Honestly, boy; if you can't control your men, something will have to change in the tracker division. Like the captain of the unit, for example."
"Six of my best trackers have disappeared. Are you suggesting that they've all defected?" There was a pause, before a biting edge found it's way into the other's tone. "With all due respect, of course."
Even in her stupor, the speech was unmistakable on both parts.
She was not let down, as she stepped into the occupied room, the two men standing across from each other almost comfortingly familiar. Risu was hunched over in a corner with a cigarette, and a single player game of cards.
Kotone sighed, and gladly let instinct and training flood her mind, and overtake all else as she analyzed the conversation. The kage was seated in one of the once-sunny armchairs, the younger man standing opposite; posture unyielding. The backward nature of shinobi disputes also stirred another odd bit of observation.
Their faces were flawlessly indifferent; they were furious.
The older man's face contorted as though to spit back a reply, but he hesitated. "You said six?" He demanded warily.
"Yes. I'm certain."
"Nezumi's missing." It wasn't a question His voice had dropped to something of a hiss. . "Risu..." He drawled dangerously."Isn't that the boy you were going to train as your successor? My, my... This isn't reflecting very well on your family, is it, rat?"
Risu froze, as he snapped a card in place, his cigarette strained by his now clenched teeth. "Yes..." He growled.
Kotone inclined her head, as some unspoken covenant passed between the two. She watched with a dulled interest as Risu swallowed some unvoiced dread, eyes wide, and nodded shakily. "Understood, Mizukage Sama. I'll find him."
"You had better." The kage acknowledged as The Nezumi clan leader fled. "If he's not back by this time tomorrow, he's Zabuza's unit's problem."
She knew they'd been noticed long before Risu pushed past him in his escape, but it was only now that the Kage and Demon acknowledged her, and Tsubasa's presence. The water shadow nodded to them both, and then across the room; she'd seen the thing out of the corner of her eye, and had done her best not to look. It wasn't there. It couldn't be there.
Because if it was there, this was real.
"That's yours now, Kotone." Hachidaime's face seemed insincere in it's sympathy, and she kept her own face still with surprising ease as she lost her battle against her eyes, and caught her reflection in the weapon leaning against the far wall's polished surface. The weapon that was rightfully her's now.
Except she didn't want it.
It was Misao Sensei's. It had to be Misao sensei's; It would always be. Her hands curled tighter around the tiny cat figurine. She opened her palm, and sighed as she traced it's smile with her thumb before letting it fall back to the pocket of her sleeve.
"I hate seeing this place empty; dead."
Kiyoshi's owner was dead; it needed another.
She nodded resolutely meeting her leader's obsidian eyes, and strode to claim her inheritance- her responsibility to the village, it's leader, and it's people.
"We'll need you to assume your late teacher's duties with the genin exams." She nodded blankly, fingers hovering a fraction of an inch from the polished surface. It was cold when she finally pressed the tips to the blade, her nails clicking softly against the metal.
A fleck of something not reflected stood out against the room's likeness, and the metal's cold grey. Lips parted slightly as she exhaled, fogging up the bright mirror surface as she examined it. It was a russet smudge, nestled in the groove between two of Kiyoshi's murderous teeth; it flaked away when her free hand traced a sharpened index nail across it. Something was amiss.
She couldn't identify the substance, but she knew what it was. She knew the look, the feel, the smell it brought to mind... It shouldn't have been there. Whatever it was should not have been there.
"I found him late last night, at home. The medics said his heart simply gave out on him." She heard the kind of breath given through a smile as the kage continued. "He went...peacefully. Of course, his body was destroyed as quickly as possible; standard procedure. You understand."
She nodded, hearing but not comprehending, still transfixed by the mysteriously familiar stain, and the seemingly involuntary movement of her hand. Her body fought desperately with her foggy consciousness; Instinct pleading her to see the truth her stupor wouldn't permit her to fathom. It raised, ghostly motions of it's own accord bringing it to Kiyoshi's sharpened side. Her finger was drawn across one of the many sharpened points, and a cold sting split the tactile skin. She watched the shallow gash ooze deep red, near-purple, and followed the droplet with her eyes as it dribbled lamely over the edge, seeping impossible upside down to be cradled between two notches of the killing edge. The bloodstain sat idly in the crevice identical to the splotch above it; a crimson that would soon turn copper brown.
This was wrong. There was blood on Sensei's weapon. Why was there blood on Sensei's weapon...? Her hand curled back, fingers pressed to palm, as she held the cut to the unbroken skin in reflex, abandoning all disjointed thought of this riddle; thoughts wandering aimless.
Her reflection was odd, and she blinked. The person facing her did the same. The expression was blank; she couldn't read it. And yet it was her own. She wasn't sure what it was she should have been seeing, anyways.
There was something off about her insides that she was unable to put a name to. It was as though her shoulders and legs had been hollowed out, and filled with something cold, and less dense than whatever it was it replaced. Something that crawled and shuddered of it's own accord as she moved; limbs and joints weak and useless, too light to be of any good; head light, and stomach seeming to have dropped into her other organs. It was odd.
She didn't like it.
Her expression changed as another mirrored image caught her now-wide eyes. At least surprise she could name. Zabuza was eyeing her strangely, over their kage's temporary throne, standing just close enough for her defective eyes to see his features sharply. Because he was certain she wouldn't see, or perhaps because he knew she could? He was frowning, head inclined, with his usual closed posture and crossed arms. His expression was untellable as well, but this came as no surprise. His thoughts had always been a mystery to her, his mind unknowable. He was the only one who vexed her this way, and she supposed it must have been caused by familiarity. She knew him to well to ever know him the way she knew her enemies.
She turned, fingers leaving foggy prints as she pulled them away. His expression, without the mirror's mediation, was quite normal. His usual indifference, which lacked whatever it was she had imagined seeing in those dark eyes.
"Kotone," Hachidaime's authoritative bark brought her back to the waking world. "Go home; rest. We can be without our lead interrogator for one day, I should think."
"With all due respect sir, I'm fine." She protested immediately. Her voice came out level without really trying to make it that way.
"Take the day off." He repeated, almost...slyly? "I insist."
"Sir, I'm fine to work. Please."
His smile vanished. "Ume." Surprise again. His expression and tone had darkened, and she suddenly felt quite small, reminded again of the icy substance that was making her feel so weak. "As one of this village's tools, your body belongs to your kage. If I say it needs rest, it will rest despite whatever it's mind may think is best for it. You have no say in the matter. Do I make myself clear? "
The startled kunoichi bowed hurriedly. "Of course, Mizukage Sama. I apologize." She let out a long breath, and took the weapon that was now her own away from the wall. There was a strip of cloth like the one her sensei had used to keep it on his back on the floor, caught beneath the shortest blunt end of the rectangular sword, and shepulled it free. Her hands remembered the way he'd fastened it, and repeated the actions mechanically.
"Mizukage Sama," Tsubasa started, though she once again found herself unable to concentrate. "Surely we can spare the Oinin captain for a day as well? She really shouldn't be left alone at a time like this-"
"Absolutely not. I can't lost two unit leaders today." The kage snapped.
"Tsubasa San, I'mfine." Hikyuu hissed, without really thinking. He ignored her.
"Zabuza San should stay with her-"
"I'm fine." It was a genuine snarl now.
"Then at least let me walk you home..."
She grit her teeth, and tensed, deciding to ignore the excessively gallant ninja, and get out of the room before he could offer any more knightly 'help.'
Her hands were too weak, and the cold filling the hollow plagued her even more severely as she tied Kiyoshi into place. It was as though the icy rain outside had seeped through her skin to her very core. Perhaps it had.
She just wanted the stupid, nameless feeling to go away. She felt sick. It was making her restless.
She shivered as she stepped out into the downpour, the cold outside matching the feeling inside. She clutched the cat tighter, and ran.
She just wanted it to go away...
vvvvvvvvvvvvvv
"So where did you find her?" The kage was only half interested, and inspected the raindrops leaking through the shattered window as he spoke.
Tsubasa cringed. "I... actually didn't. Raiga san got there before I did."
The rain outside recaptured control of the room, as silence filled the gaps between each drop. Quiet enough to hear the rush of fabric screaming in protest as Zabuza's grip on his upper arm tightened; knuckles turning pale as the skin strained against the clenched tendons. He turned after a long moment, spinning towards the doorway fiercely, and striding towards it with an equal, icy, ardor.
"And just where do you think you're going?" Hachidaime's amusement was sadistic as the demon froze in place. "I have a fair bit of work for you yet." He drummed his fingers impatiently against the arm of the chair, sneering at the younger man. "Quite frankly, I find your division pathetic as of late. They're weak. Naturally, those five...six positions will have to be filled; the recruits' training is being intensified to speed things along, and weed out the losers. Kasumi Hiraku is looking after them today. I'd also like you to oversee it personally for the rest of the day."
"The rest of the day..?" Tsubasa echoed, turning to face the taller, more sturdily built man again.
Zabuza smiled bitterly, fists clenching again before muttering a falsely-submissive reply, and excusing himself as he left.
Not yet... Soon...
He halted again,at the sound of groaning furniture, and unsteady footsteps. One... a pause that was far too long, and a quick hobbling stride before another strong one. He risked a glance over his shoulder as the kage made his way towards the nephew he held no resemblance to, and was rewarded with a confirmation of his suspicion.
Ogakuzu Misao was dead, six of his best men had vanished without a trace, and Hachidaime Mizukage was limping.
In the world of shinobi, there was no such thing as a coincidence.
vvvvvvvvvvvvv
Zabuza growled, the sound low and guttural, meant as much to vent his own frustration at being trapped with an idiot for so long- an entire roomful of idiots, not a promising soul in the bunch- as it was to warn anyone who might try to keep him in the training facility a moment longer.
Of course, it did little good, and a cry from down the hall halted him; the village joke scurried to catch up. Here to meet her brother, no doubt.
Dark, sleek hair fell back into a neat, straight curtain as she skidded to a stop beside him. Shinju was nearly as unusual as he was, in appearance, though not nearly as frightening. Her face was unusually round, and soft- she lacked the sharp jaw, nose and cheekbones that at least kept him looking vaguely local. His skin tone had earned more than one accusation of 'foreigner' in his lifetime, but his teeth and pointed features said otherwise. The near constant cloud cover had bred a fairly pale population, and though she was without her brother's apricot complexion, or Kotone's more drastic pallor, she was still of the water country in appearance, though she was far below their average height.
But it was her eyes that made her unusual. They were round, and gentle, and kind; they didn't belong on any ninja.
They were troubled, now though, and regarding him expectantly. "Has Hatsuka turned up?" She whispered. He shook his head. How they even knew each other was beyond him, and didn't interest, or concern him in the slightest. Shinju's face fell.
"You've heard about Misao Senpai, naturally." He nodded, and she sighed, as he was perplexed once more. Why did she know, let alone care if Ogakuzu had kicked the bucket? "It's... not adding up." Shinju muttered, accusingly; testing, gauging his reaction.
"How so?" He raised a thin eyebrow wryly, and her face grew serious.
"I've... I've seen charts, and records, and... well, nobody I've asked ever looked at him after he died... Zabuza Senpai," She began, her tone thought polite was strained, and even threatening. He was nearly caught off guard. "If I know anything, it's this: there was nothing wrong with that man's heart." She kept the eye contact steadily until he, much to her surprise, nodded again.
"I don't think so either."
"But how...?"
"A great number of trackers- most of my strongest trackers- disappear the night a member of the shichinin dies. It was the night after he completed Hikyuu's training; the instant his usefulness was at an end. And Hachidaime is injured; that's more than a bit suspicious." The height difference of nearly a foot made glowering at one another awkward. Shinju knew a little too much for a medic... He sighed, and turned, resuming his path outside. He didn't bother stopping when she called him again, her tone an odd mixture of warning and curiosity.
"If you tell her this... She'll be destroyed."
For the first time that day, he smirked in earnest. "One can only hope."
vvvvvvvvvvvv
The rain had dissipated, and wet snow was occasionally seen falling between drops of liquid ice. It was colder after sunset, and unpleasant in the dark being rained on, but he stayed still outside of the door, with refuge only a doorway away, unmoving and silent. He held his breath as he pressed his ear to the rickety wooden door, careful that his own steady respiration would make it impossible to her the irregular noises from the other side; faint, ragged squeaks; unsteady, shallow breathing.
As much as she'd protested, 'fine' was no way to describe her state. It was something only he could have picked up on : He, Kotone, Tsubasa, and Risu had numbered four, in the same room, and she had failed to throw a fit. He suspected that she had been too dazed to notice.
'Fine' indeed.
He let out a breath, cringing at the pathetic little noises. If she was crying, it would be best to leave her be. To their ninja, being seen in tears was more humiliating than being seen naked. It wasn't something they did, and certainly not something they'd intentionally intruded upon. And besides; he had no idea how to handle weeping. What was he supposed to do?
There was another odd sound as well. Purring? Menou no doubt. If she'd actually had to summon something to comfort herself, perhaps things were a bad as he'd feared. But... No, summoned spirits follow their associate ninja out of respect for their strength, not character; Kotone would never risk weakness around one of her cats.
He let his hand stray to the wobbling, loosened doorknob, and took a breath as he composed his thoughts. Perhaps she'd figured it out herself; realized that she'd been obeying her dearest teacher's murderer, unquestioningly and blindly, for years; and that was the cause of her sorrow. If she didn't know, she soon would; this was, without question, the leverage that he had been waiting for. The little push that would tip the precarious balance of the kunoichi's loyalty in his own favour.
It would be messy, but it was necessary. Shinju was right, he knew full well the shock may cripple her; but she would, in time, heal. And she would want revenge when she did.
He grit his teeth, and pushed the door open. Everything was finally going favourably. Things were finally falling into place.
As long as she wasn't crying. He couldn't handle crying.
Menou was indeed curled by her side as the scene in his living room became clear. Raindrops clung to Kiyoshi, which rested against the wall near her room where Kubikiri hocho kept it company. A dark, scant eyebrow raised as he caught sight of the tiny feline figures now attached to the hilt with red thread. The childishness clashed harshly with the deadly weapon's very sobering presence, and the conflict somehow made him uneasy.
He took a moment to question his roommate's sanity.
She was on the couch, hair down, dripping wet from the shower, and clothes soaked by the rain. She's been out training, that much he could see from the mud and grass stains on her clothes attested to that; as did her battered, bloody knuckles. Her bizarre, checkered netting would have been clogged completely by ice and slush, and would have been unwearable. He knew, to save it from rust, or damage, she'd cleaned it, and could picture it hanging idly over the edge of the bathtub. In it's place, she wore her yukata at it's standard length, she'd bandaged her ankles (Excessively; to the knees, if he knew her as well as he thought he did.), and was finishing by winding a strip of cloth around a bruised hand, breathing shakily, her focus unwavering and dead. She'd complete the wrapping, stare at it, and deeming it insufficient, then unwind the cloth and redo it mechanically. Judging by the blood staining through the cloth in various patches, she'd done this several times already.
She hadn't noticed him, it seemed; and only looked up as Menou nipped at her hand, breaking whatever mesmerizing spell it was her repetitive, aimless movements had ensnared her in.
He felt the uneasiness in his chest uncoil, and slacken as their eyes met: They were clear, and free of any shameful tears that would have complicated his objective. She just stared for a long moment, analyzing; studying; for what he didn't know. His reaction to her state, he imagined.
Quite suddenly, and with no warning, she stood, stepped forward, and caught him completely off guard as she placed her hands flat against his shoulders, and buried her face in the fabric of his shirt. Again, the annoying habit resurfaced; his body responded before his brain could; he held her there, hand settling at her waist, and the small of her back.
This wasn't right. Jonin didn't break down like this.
"How are you feeling?" The question was stupid, and he grimaced as he asked. What did he care? She shouldn't be feeling anything; she was a ninja. But somehow, the picture of misery clinging to him seemed to merit some comfort, despite themore rational bit of mis mind's complaints.
"I...Sick?" She whispered simply; uncertainly. "Sick." She repeated against his shoulder.
She still couldn't put a label to the feeling. It was devouring her, slowly, like a parasite, the numb panic becoming more and more insistent. There was a haunting familiarity- as thought she'd once known it's name, but now it was forgotten; just beyond her reach. She simply wanted to bolt, flee anywhere, but her body felt too weak. She'd tried distracting herself with training, kicking and sparring her own water clones in the frigid rain till near exhaustion- nothing helped. Perhaps... It was a stupid thought. A foolish, pathetic, weak hope that no kunoichi of her caliber should even entertain, but if she couldn't make it go away... perhaps he could.
And so she'd acted impulsively; wanting to be closer to him, like a stupid child. Though it calmed her racing heart, it did nothing to warm her. He was drenched himself, the frozen spikes of hair only just thawing; his skin like ice against her own.
It was like being held by a corpse.
"Kotone..." He started, as he tried- and failed- to ignore her shivering. "Have you ever considered..."
He sighed, grit his teeth, and pushed her away.
"Pull yourself together." Zabuza growled, turning away. "This is unbecoming. You're one of the highest ranking shinobi in our country now. The least you can do is act it."
She let out another shaky breath, and suddenly seemed quite fascinated by her sandals. "You... you're right... I'm sorry."
The demon sheered, and continued, snapping the words viciously. "People die. He was old, that's not something many shinobi get. Quit acting like a weakling- you're only disgracing your sensei."
The kunoichi pushed a strand of raven hair behind her ear, and nodded distractedly. Wordlessly, she walked to the doorway, took Kiyoshi, and disappeared into the storm.
Zabuza stood motionless for an immeasurable moment, before sighing, and falling to the worn sofa. Slumping forward to rest his head in a hand propped up on his knee in defeat. He... HE...the leader of the assassination squad for years... a member of the shinobigatana, with bloodstained hands, and a stony heart... Zabuza the demon ... had choked.
vvvvvvvvvvvvvv
She hadn't intended to come here, but it was where her feet had led her aimless wandering. It took a moment to gather her nerves before she deemed herself ready to step into the armory, but she did. It was empty, and dark. There was an orange glow from the crack beneath the doorway to the staircase, though, and she didn't wait for permission. There were indeed others down in the forge, and she actually scrunched up her face in surprise as she scanned the fire-lit basement.
The blacksmith himself was leaning near the fire, expression grim, and posture infirm against his crutch. His daughter was doubled over, seated on the stairs, head in her hands as her shoulders shook. Kasumi shinju was pacing the floor, eyes downcast, and pace languid.
Their gazes all flickered in her direction, but no one spoke. Kajiya extended an invitation with his eyes, and a nod of his head. Kotone lay Kiyoshi in the center of the room, and settled on a crate of materials the dim light didn't allow her to see the label of; not that she'd be able to read it if it did.
They sat quietly; all but Kiku in dead silence, even when the door opened again. A kunoichi Kotone recognized as Nezumi Momonga stumbled down the stirs, her supposedly missing, unnaturally pale brother in tow. She supported his trembling strides, as he staggered to a corner, and curled upon himself; hugging his legs close as he sat, head pressed to his knees. Rats, both his own, large brown rodents, and Momo's sleeker, white, red eyed companions crawled over him, as though in some vain attempt to revive him.
The rats kept well away from the leopardess.
Only the fire's indifferent crackle, Hatsuka's whimpers and Kiku's sobbing broke the stillness, and Kotone found herself watching the other girl in bleary fascination. As the only civilian in their midst, Kiku could mourn openly. The rest of them were directly forbidden to exhibit any outwards signs of grieving- the mist shinobi had no formal traditions associated with loss.
The cold terror didn't abate; but the feeling changed. It hung in the air now, not simply her bones. It was a shared ailment, and each of them seemed to feel it's grip; numb and lethargic was their anguish as they simply existed simultaneously in the stone room, warmed and lit only by the fire; it had the nerve to carry on as though everything was alright, and Kotone hated it for that. They all did. And somehow, that made it easier to bear. She had no idea why these others were here, and she didn't care. They were all here for the same reason, and that was enough for her.
Kotone sighed, and watched the reflection of the pretentious flame's dance in Kiyoshi's polished surface. They couldn't mourn, but they could certainly sit, and all feel sick together.
vvvvvvvv
"She's gone." The chestnut haired woman whispered, laying a comforting hand on the crouched ninja's shoulder. "Nii san, what happened? Why the hell did you disappear on us?"
The young man looked up. His dark eyes shone with terror, and made him appear much smaller, and younger than he was. "I..." His tone wavered, and their newly appointed leader, still pacing the room as always, adjusted her perfectly straight, jet black bangs, and knelt down as well. The petite kunoichi's tone as soft as always.
"Please, Hatsuka kun."
"I... I had to." He whispered. "You know what Oji san's always saying, Momo chan... How Mizukage sama only keeps us Nezumi safe because we do what he says. He said something might happen to Hari if I said no... I'd never... I'd never want to hurt Misao Senpai...but...you, Mama, Hari..."
The others exchanged looks, as their suspicions were verified. Seeing the usually easygoing, confident tracker nin so...devastated unnerved them all. "We understand, Nii San. Please, just tell us. We're not angry with you." Momonga soothed.
"He got a bunch of us together... the strongest of us, 'cept Kasumi." Their leader winced. "Misao... Ogakuzu Senpai fought back real well. He knocked me out a few seconds in, so I missed most of it, but..." He squeezed his eyes shut, and made himself small again; holding himself in a tight coil. "I woke up sometime later. Everybody was dead... Hachidaime and Ogakuzu Senpai were just staring at each other...There wasn't a mark on him anywhere, I'd swear on anything. They were just looking at each other... and then..."
"Then what?" Breathed the girl on the stairs.
Hatsuka looked up at his fellow 'traitors', pale, and quivering. "Misao Senpai dropped dead."
vvvvvvvvvvvv
"You'll be glad to hear Hatsuka's turned up."
He hadn't even entered the Kage's office, and already he was being spoken to in that sickly sweet, infuriatingly insincere tone he'd grown to loathe. He opened his mouth, and found himself cut off yet again. "Ume's out of the village. I gave her an assassination target in the northern costal area. I thought it'd be best for her- keep her mind off of things and what not."
He scowled. "With all due respect, if everything's being taken care of, why am I here?"
The kage nodded, knowingly, pulling a scroll of mission information from a desk drawer. "I have one for you too, no worries. In the mountains towards the southern region- some enemy ninja were spotted there. I'd like for you to dispose of them." Zabuza nodded, scanning the targets list quickly. He stopped on one line, before narrowing his eyes at the water shadow.
"There's another assignment here. Is this some kind of joke?"
"I'm dead serious, Momochi. While you're in the area, I want that taken care of."
"The target is a child." He spat back, indignantly.
Hachidaime's face twitched, switching rapidly between equally unpleasant expressions. "I can't write this, but," He hissed, choosing a particularly nasty, disgusted glower. "That thing is... a monster. Not just a carrier like all the others. "
The demon's eyes widened, as the words sunk in. "Yes sir," He forced back the smile that threatened to show through his bandages. "Consider it done."
Opportunity was fickle, and rarely presented itself so perfectly more than once, and he wasn't one to let it slip through his fingers. He wasn't one to let this kind of chance go to waste.
Ok, so hopefully the thing with Misao makes sense, Given the whole Madara thing.
Sorry that was so crappy XD;;;;
Anyways! thank you so much for reading n.n I hope you enjoyed it, and have a nice day!