Author's Note: Sending a huge wave of gratitude to my reviewers, followers, and other readers who have favorited Toxic! Thank you Akatsuki Wolf Rider, Anzai, Dawn Summer, Tobi-Is-Fluffy-Chan, and WhisperInTheRain for reviewing the last chapter. Your feedback encourages me to update faster, and I hope to keep you entertained while I spin my little tale.


Chapter 2: Farewell


{Part I}

.

.

.

"Leave the village?" Aiko stood before the desk of the Third Hokage, feeling utterly defeated. "How much time do I have?"

Hiruzen exhaled, puffing smoke from his tobacco pipe. "Until tomorrow." Aiko touched the edge of her right eye, caging her gaze as she stared at her superior, brow furrowed in confusion. After serving the village for seven years, how could Hiruzen forsake her? Ash circulated around the confined room. Hiruzen placed his pipe on its tray and bent forward, bridging his fingers together, hands shadowing the liver spots on his cheek. "What troubles you? I expected you to jump at the opportunity to leave."

"I didn't want to leave permanently." Aiko flattened her eyes. "And, with Iwagakure—"

"Wait." Hiruzen interrupted her, raising one of his wrinkled hands, pressing the other on the scroll. "Your departure will not be permanent. I am sending you on an important mission."

Surprise knocked Aiko upside the head. "A mission?" Her stare ducked to the desk, intent on the scroll, and Hiruzen pushed the document towards her. Unfurling the fragile paper, Aiko skimmed the contents, reading in silence until she realized what the mission entailed. "The Sunagakure Medical Corps wants to hire me as an instructor." Heart brittle against her ribs, she browsed her responsibilities, expectations, and limitations. Astonishment spread across her lips. "Am I qualified?"

Hiruzen shrugged—hardly a satisfactory response—and replied, "This message arrived from Captain Yura, who witnessed your performance in the Takigakure Chunin Exams a couple weeks ago. Apparently, he was impressed by your mastery of basic medical techniques and has requested your assistance in the Sunagakure Medical Corps for the next two months." He glanced at the wispy spiral of smoke that rose from the tip of his pipe, took note of the orange glimmer within the chamber, and spoke again. "While you are in Sunagakure, I will continue my negotiations with Iwagakure."

Reminded of her unstable situation, Aiko frowned. "Will Sunagakure allow an outsider, especially a high risk ninja like me, into their village?" She rolled up the scroll and handed it back to Hiruzen. "What if Iwagakure targets Sunagakure after I leave Konoha?"

Hiruzen lifted his palm, refusing the scroll. "Unlikely. Yura has insisted that he will supervise you."

Aiko tilted her head, bangs skimming her eyebrows, mouth askew with skepticism. "He will?"

Hiruzen nodded. "He is renowned as an honorable and powerful shinobi, and should be able to keep you out of trouble."

Although she doubted that anyone had that ability, Aiko relented. She slipped the scroll into her pouch, accepting her mission, and replied, "Very well. I leave in the morning, then?" Hiruzen nodded. Walking towards the door, Aiko stopped when her shoes touched the threshold, ponytail leaping across her spine as she glanced over her shoulder. Words swelled in her throat, but an abrupt surge of guilt paralyzed her tongue.

Hiruzen noticed her hesitation. "Rest tonight and do not worry about the issue with Iwagakure. As the Third Hokage of this village, I have the power to handle it."

Fingers closing around the cold handle, Aiko murmured, "Of course."

.

.

.

{Part II}

.

.

.

She knew that she would never see Hiruzen Sarutobi again.

As soon as she entered the unlit Academy halls, a painful throb erupted in her left eye. Aiko cringed. She clasped her palm over her eye, lips contorted in pain, and curled against the cool stone wall. She listened to the repetitive patter of raindrops on the rooftop and wondered if she would ever return to Konohagakure after she finished her mission. The pouch attached to her lower back felt heavier with the scroll, which burdened her conscience.

Hiruzen had gone to great lengths to ensure her safety, but she was running out of time.

Aiko shut her eyes. "Damn it."

When the pain subsided, Aiko peeked into the moonlit classrooms. The desks glimmered with a blue sheen and Aiko remembered when she occupied those benches. Crammed into a corner, pens neatly arranged, she had once recited the rules of shinobi conduct in unison with her peers.

However, in the depths of her heart, she did not embrace the shinobi philosophies as truths.

Remembering the earlier conversation between her colleagues, her lips meshed into a bitter smile. Iruka had identified her greatest shortcoming, her uncompromising independence, but he misunderstood her motivations. She needed to be independent. Cradling her elbows in her hands, Aiko wondered if she would be missed by her comrades. Iruka, Mizuki, and Kotetsu would be delighted by her departure. Though he would never admit it, Hiruzen probably would not mind, either. Aiko supposed that Hana and Izumo, her closest friends, would—

Her thoughts derailed.

She had forgotten about Izumo.

Tightening her ponytail, Aiko sprung for the exit.

.

.

.

{Part III}

.

.

.

At least the rain had stopped.

Returning to her apartment from her summons, Aiko shut her door and, as she slung her gear onto the kitchen table, heard a knock behind her. She untied her ponytail and combed apart the damp strands of hair with her fingers. Smoothing out her rumpled dress, she pulled on the handle. Izumo stood in the corridor, bags hanging under his eyes, shoulders slumped in exhaustion. Aiko welcomed him inside. "I had forgotten that you were coming over."

Izumo shrugged. "Did Lord Hokage keep you for a while?" He took a seat in her kitchen, and glanced at the tabletop where Aiko had strewn her needles, bandages, and vials. She puttered on the opposite side of the room, around the counter. Splashing water into an empty kettle, Aiko placed it on the stove, and tweaked a knob; the burner coughed up a blaze. Izumo urged her to speak. "What did he decide?"

Back turned to him, Aiko reached for the tea in her cabinet, propped on tiptoes. "He's sending me on a mission to Sunagakure for two months."

Izumo raised his eyebrows. "Two months? What does he want you to do?"

Aiko took out a pair of empty mugs. "I'll be working for the Sunagakure Medical Corps."

Izumo frowned. "I don't think that's a good idea." Surprised by his negative response, Aiko leaned against the counter, folding her arms over her chest, expecting an explanation. Planting his elbow on the table, Izumo knocked aside a stack of senbon needles, which rolled into the bandages and orange vials, and snapped open his palms. "Are you accepting this mission so you can rifle through the archives in Sunagakure?"

The kettle simmered, and Aiko fiddled with the stove knob. "Perhaps." She hooked his attention with a wink. "You shouldn't worry so much."

"I have plenty of reasons to worry," Izumo muttered. "Remember what happened when you infiltrated the archives here a couple years ago?"

Aiko recalled the incident with little difficulty. Breaking the rules established by the elders, who prohibited her from reading the clan records, she snuck into the private Konohagakure Archives to conduct her private research. For almost half a year, Aiko raided the locked cabinets and perused the bookshelves where loose papers had been feverishly crammed into the cracks, and studied forbidden scrolls until Iruka caught her. She mused, "After that hard-ass turned me in, I spent days with the interrogation force, but it wasn't too bad."

"Yeah, because they let you off easy." Izumo drummed his fingers on the table. "You need to be more careful."

Water boiled and the kettle whistled, spewing whiffs of steam from under the cover, which quaked over the volcanic liquid. Aiko turned off the stove. "I'll be fine." She poured molten water into each of the mugs, tea bags floating to the surface, and brought the steaming drinks to the table. Sitting across from Izumo, who peered at her with a hard stare, Aiko waved her hand. "Stop looking at me like that. No one will catch me."

Pushing aside his drink, Izumo said, "You need to take your situation more seriously. I understand that you like to research, and you think your trespassing is harmless, but you are going to get into trouble." Testing the temperature of her tea, Aiko cheeped when it seared her tongue. Izumo gave her a withering glance. "The ninja in Sunagakure are far stricter than us. Risking your safety for the sake of curiosity is foolish."

Aiko put aside her tea and peeled off her purple gloves. "I'm conducting research to keep myself safe."

Narrowing his eyes, Izumo tightened his jaw, straining the strip of fabric on his chin. "Safe from what?" Aiko went silent at his sharp tone. Softening his voice to a gentle murmur, Izumo insisted that he wanted to know, and the young woman reclined in her chair. After a moment of solemn contemplation, Aiko tapped her fingernails against her cheekbones, drawing his attention to her eyes. The gesture confused Izumo. He asked, "Iwagakure?"

"Not quite," Aiko murmured, tangled hair framing her face. "I'm going to lose my eyesight."

"With the Ketsuekigan," Izumo felt his heart sink, "or in general?"

Crossing one leg over the other, Aiko replied, "Both. As far as I know, Iwagakure has no cure for this degenerative condition. Their attention to the issue has been," she paused, considering the most appropriate word, "lacking. I've studied the ocular kekkai genkai here, the Sharingan and Byakugan, and neither of them seems to have the same dangers as the Ketsuekigan. I've scoured medical texts, as well, and none of them contain any insightful records on the disease, whatever it might be." Breathing in as deeply as she could, Aiko concluded, "I must leave Konohagakure to conduct my research."

Izumo knotted his fingers in his hair. "How much time do you have left?"

"Given the frequency and intensity of my pain," Aiko mused, "probably a few years before the symptoms become devastating."

Crumpling his mouth into a frown, Izumo demanded, "Why haven't you told anyone? I'm sure that Hana would have assisted you with the research, gone through the private archives to keep you out of trouble. We have a strong Medical Corps, too. I doubt they would have turned you away." He studied her expression, which remained stoic under the dim kitchen light. Aiko cupped her warm mug, sipped at the peppermint tea, and shrugged. "Come on," Izumo reached across the table, placed his calloused hands against hers, wrapping his fingers around her knuckles, "when you return, let us help you, all right?"

Touched by the kind gesture, Aiko smiled. "We'll see." Izumo leveled her composure with a stern look, and she broke into a laugh. "You know," she pulled her fingers out of his grasp and ran her knuckles under her eyes, "I will miss you, Izumo."

Standing, legs of his chair scraping across the floor, Izumo shook his head. "When you return, we'll have to make up for two months of lost time." He slipped his finger under her chin, tilting up her gaze, and Aiko glanced away. Chasing her flirtatious eyes, Izumo knelt in front of the flighty young woman, chuckling at her antics. "Don't be difficult," he murmured, voice gravelly and earnest, "show me how much you're going to miss me."

He did not have to ask twice.

Grabbing the collar of his vest, Aiko yanked Izumo between her knees. His taunting mouth collided with her lips, which curled into a smile, and her touches ran unchecked through his hair. He groaned, palms sliding up her thighs, under the slits of her dress. Cradling his face in her hands, Aiko studied the contours of his lips with hers, kissing him until his taste intoxicated her. Her mind spun out of control. Thrown off balance, she gripped his shoulders for stability. Izumo clutched her close, and her fingers tumbled to his chest.

Hands weighing against his heart, Aiko withdrew. "There," she whispered, giving him a playful, affectionate shove, "now, off you go."

"Very well." Izumo rose from his stooped position. "I'll see you soon."

When he crossed the kitchen and his fingers brushed the door handle, a twinge of loneliness gripped Aiko. The feeling only worsened as Izumo took a final look at her, lowering his eyelids and lifting his chin, offering an unspoken farewell. Unable to form a coherent sentence, Aiko unfurled her fingers in front of her face like playing cards, veiling the sorrow in her smile, and waved. Izumo did not detect her despair, and departed.

Tugging her knees against her erratic heart, Aiko glanced at his untouched tea, where the steam had withered into a thin film.

.

.

.

{Part IV}

.

.

.

Aiko did not intend to see Izumo again.

Between packing, cleaning, and undressing, Aiko had little time to rest. She lay sprawled on her back, hardly conscious of the world, as the sun crept over violet hilltops. The refreshing scent of wet earth filtered through the crack in her window, rousing her from a vague dream, and she rolled onto her side. Aiko admired the morning dew that glistened in the grass and on the roads. Slinging her legs out of bed, she pulled on a fresh dress and vest, hopped into her purple sandals, and heaved her backpack over her shoulders.

With her mission scroll in hand, Aiko headed toward the Konohagakure border.

When she reached the gate, however, a familiar voice called out to her. "Aiko!" She turned around. Genma jogged over to her, backpack jostled by his movements, bottom of his bandanna headband lined with sweat. He stopped beside the curious young woman, explaining, "Lord Hokage sent me to escort you partway. My mission route diverges from yours a few miles before you reach Hiroshi Bridge where you plan to meet Captain Yura."

Aiko did not mind his company, nodding at the sentries when she departed with Genma, whose hand ricocheted off his brow. "At least I'll know that I'm heading the right way. Where are you going?"

"Takigakure," Genma replied, toying with the toothpick under his tongue, "not looking forward to it."

Traveling along the forested path, Aiko and Genma chatted about their missions. While he only wanted to go home, she could not wait to get away from Konohagakure. Preferring to keep quiet at various points in the conversation, Aiko concealed her feelings behind a cool front. She thought often of Izumo, conscience scorched with guilt, wishing that their situation was different. Skipping over a mud puddle, Aiko looked at Genma when he fanned his hand in her face.

"Hey, did you sleep at all? Your eyes look like road maps."

"Just had a long night," Aiko replied, "and I wanted to make sure my apartment was spotless before I left for the next couple months."

Genma nodded and, for a while, they hiked without speaking. Dodging the roots that snaked throughout the ground, Aiko focused on her plans. Becoming independent from her village would be difficult, but she doubted that Konohagakure would miss a lowly chunin like her. The soles of her sandals grinded across a rock, kicking it off the high embankment, into the roaring waters of a river below the path. Upon hearing the splash, Genma looked at Aiko.

"Are you nervous about going to Sunagakure?"

"Somewhat. I've never been to a desert before and, to be honest, I'm not terribly interested in that kind of landscape."

Hands behind his head, Genma murmured, "Can't say I blame you. There's no place like home." They reached an intersection where signs directed ninja to outposts across the country. Skimming the symbols on the old wooden post, Genma sighed. "This is where we split up. You take a left and keep going east until you reach Hiroshi Bridge." The kunoichi stepped onto her section of the road, strolling a few paces down the path. Genma watched her, eyes heavily lidded and wary, then bid her goodbye. "Keep your chin up," he murmured, turning onto his path, "and, if you need anything, give us a holler." Genma launched himself down the road.

When she wheeled around to return the sentiment, Aiko discovered that she was alone, and sighed.

.

.

.

{Part V}

.

.

.

Gripping the straps on her backpack, the chunin traveled on her own, remembering the night she had stumbled into Konohagakure. She recalled the blood on her clammy palms, which she clutched against her stomach, covering a deep, violent gash. Even with her intensive medical training, the young teenager could not lessen the bleeding. Her legs wobbled under a terrible burden. Delirious from the pain, visions of her previous imprisonment flashed through her mind, and she collapsed. Stricken, she lay on the road, remembering how she had been trapped in the belly of a village that had swallowed her whole. She had rotted in its bowels, locked inside the underground laboratories, desperate for liberation.

Before she could die, however, a member of the ANBU Black Ops had found her. He stood over her lifeless body. Tribal swirls marked his mask, shock of silver hair bursting out from behind his porcelain cover, and he touched her cheek with his frigid gloved hands. Slipping his fingers onto her neck, he had checked her pulse, lifted her off the cold ground, and carried her to the hospital.

Although she was thankful for the assistance she received in Konohagakure, Aiko would escape.

Securing her independence was imperative but, if she became too wounded to protect herself, she would be unable to complete her ambitions. She knew that she needed to be careful. Focusing on the hard path that lay sprawled before her, Aiko peered at the pebbles, which shrank into dirt and rolled into hard grains of sand, developing into the desert landscape that she had no desire to see. She pondered her circumstances for many lonely miles. When she arrived at the outskirts of the forest, the trees had petered off into shrubs, opening into a dusty echoing canyon.

No longer protected by the cool shade of the trees, Aiko stood in a furnace, surrounded by orange rock. Skin prickling from the intense heat, she caught sight of her meeting spot. Hiroshi Bridge curved over the canyon, stretching across the broad split in the earth, where a river once coursed, into the dry endless desert. Aiko approached the crimson bridge, feet scraping a withered patch of grass, and her spirits plummeted. The hostility of the landscape would only intensify. Shielding her gaze with her hand, she looked for Captain Yura, expecting him to be nearby.

Her instincts heightened when she noticed a distant figure.

A man in billowing khaki robes stood on Hiroshi Bridge, towering over the posts. Despite his stiff posture, his limbs were long and willowy. His goatee bristled in the breeze, ebony hair flapping over his right eye, which had sunken deep into its socket. Tentative, Aiko approached the tall ninja, concerned for his health. She raised a hand and the man tensed. His hollow cheeks swelled with a greeting, tone quiet and dismal. "Aiko, I presume?"

"Yes. Are you Captain Yura?"

"Indeed."

He did not extend a hand. Instead, he assessed Aiko with his restless stare, ruthless in his pursuit of what the chunin perceived to be either imperfection or disloyalty. She felt uncomfortable, but his forbidding expression forced her into silence. Aiko looked at the bridge. Her blood ran cold when she detected another shinobi, whose murderous intent was tangible from where she stood. Aiko turned to warn Yura. "Captain, do you sense-"

Senbon needles hurtled from the opposite end of the bridge.

They struck the renowned sand ninja in his throat.

Stumbling backwards to regain his balance, Yura scowled. Then, he coughed, and fell to his knees, body gripped with a violent convulsion. Understanding the situation, Aiko knelt beside him, placing her fingers in front of her lips. "Those were poisoned." She closed her eyes and, when she reopened them, activated the Ketsuekigan. Her irises were light purple, black pupils ringed with five yellow orbs, which revolved as she studied the wound. "The poison has entered your bloodstream," Aiko commented, scrutinizing him with her kaleidoscope eyes. "Shall I remove it?"

Yura nodded. Aiko plucked out the needles, movements precise and indiscernible, as if she was removing invisible threads from his skin. When he craned his neck, her left hand glowed and she brushed her palm over his injury. From her perspective, the poison resembled black splotches, blemishes in the streams of blood, which appeared blue through her Ketsuekigan lenses. Extracting the toxins with little difficulty, Aiko guided them to the opening of the wound, allowing the poison to splatter on the ground. Yura reeled. Aiko steadied him, concern evident in the creases of her eyes, tone urgent.

"Can you stand, Captain?"

A sickening crunch alerted Aiko to the arrival of their enemy. She whirled around, dark lashes skimming her glare, and discovered a hunched over figure on the bridge. Red clouds rippled on his black cloak. From under the stocks of his bamboo hat, the man peered with enough venom to drop even the most seasoned ninja to the ground. Although his body shape resembled a beetle, his head was human, and he made the young chunin shiver. Flipping open her pouch, Aiko lined her knuckles with senbon, and confronted her opponent. "You are?"

In a brusque voice, the man replied, "Sasori of the Red Sand."

"A pleasure," Aiko remarked, taking a protective stance in front of Yura, "though, your name doesn't ring a bell."

Encased within the shell of Hiruko, the puppeteer hissed, "I'm not surprised that a kid like you doesn't know me." Sasori clanked forward, dragging his burdensome form off the bridge, and glared at the defensive girl. The intensity of his look spurred Yura into action. The captain jumped to his feet and caged Aiko in a tight headlock, bending her forward so fast that her spine cracked. Panic burst through her brain, and she struggled, releasing her needles, attempting to nail Yura with her elbow. He hooked his foot around her ankle.

Aiko crashed hard on her knees, frightened and outraged, but did not allow a single tremble to interrupt her voice. She lifted her chin, glowering at Sasori. "Were you sent by Iwagakure?"

"I don't run errands for worthless villages," Sasori grunted, "I have come for you."

The ninja shuffled nearer, whites of his eyes wide and crazed, form too bizarre to behold. Terror chilled Aiko to her core, but she remained courageous. "What do you want with me? Sunagakure sent for me, and this," she jerked angrily at Yura, who did not loosen his resolute grip, "is not part of the mission I accepted."

Sasori wished he could rub his temples. "You foolish child, I sent for you."

If this was a sick joke, Aiko had missed the punchline. "You?" She crinkled her nose, unleashing her tongue with a fierce snarl. "What do you want?"

Sasori stopped a handful of feet away from her. Although he cared little for her attitude, her pluck amused him. Bending forward to inspect the kunoichi, he studied the unflinching edge of her jaw and the muscles that hardened with anger in her lithe body. Though she probably did not fare well in physical combat, Sasori assumed she was adept as a medical ninja, good at dodging attacks and making subtle advances, and this suited his purposes.

"I have a proposition for you to consider," Sasori murmured, "though, you will accept it."

"We'll see." Aiko flexed her arms, infuriated with Yura, who remained impassive during the exchange. "Name your terms."

Sasori raised his petrifying head, reedy hair rippling up his scalp, and mastered her attention with a blunt demand, "Swear your loyalty to me and work as my informant. If you accept my terms…

"I will give you the independence that you so desperately desire."

.

.

.

{End}