1. Smile, And They'll All Be Fooled
Land of Snow. Present time.
Sitting still, Maemi ignored the scrawny rat sniffing around for leftover scraps in the room's corner. The scent of salty sweat, makeup powder and cheap perfume heavily filled the air. Behind the room's closed door, the inn's loud noises were muffled. She'd been undercover for two months now and last night, she'd finally been notified about her target's likely passage at the inn. Meaning that she'd finally be out of this town. She barely recognized the woman's reflection in the filthy mirror. Dark freckles were splattered randomly across her cheeks – a feature she'd inherited from her mother. Her genitor's velvet-wrapped voice echoed in her mind. Smile, child. And they'll all be fooled.
The wooden door suddenly opened. As the inn's loudness disrupted the staff room's quietness, Trine's head popped into the door's open gap. Out of breath, the petite waitress pushed a strand of frizzling hair behind her ear. "The stage is all yours," she announced brightly.
In the mirror's reflection, Maemi's smile was barely a curve of the lips. "Thank you, Trine. I'll be there in a second."
Fanning herself with one of the inn's menus, Trine leaned in the doorframe. "The upcoming storm's bringing in a lot of customers," she added excitedly. "The inn's packed to the brim. Iko said that he'd booked all of the rooms for the night. You'll surely have a big audience for your last representation."
Before she could reply with a random politeness, Trine stilled at the sound of glass shattering on the floor behind her. Sharp insults quickly followed. Without losing a second, the blond waitress rushed back to attend her tables.
Brushing a dark strand of hair out of her face, Maemi proceeded to meticulously apply a thin line of silver eyeliner on her eyelids. As a final touch, she gave herself a last spritz of perfume on her collarbones, the cheap perfume's scent almost burning her eyes. In three sips, she gulped down the tea that she'd heavily sweetened with honey. A soft sigh escaped her lips.
It's time.
...
Outside, the snowstorm's violent winds were rattling across the inn's round windows. The northern lands weren't merciful and as the only inn for miles around, The Three Arrows incarnated the sole salvation of many travelers.
Sucking in their belly, the inn's waitresses were navigating between tables. Trays full of beverages were balancing in their experimented hands, tall glasses lightly clinking together. The air reeked of the persistent scent of alcohol, heavy breath and transpiration. Sticky spots of alcohol randomly splattered across the wooden floor clung desperately to the soles of her high heels as she was making her way up to the stage. Passing by a noisy table, the young woman swiftly dodged the wandering hands of a lecherous customer. Some of the inn's regulars cheered as she climbed on the modest stage.
She sat on the cushioned stool, her gaze trailing briefly on tonight's crowd. There were a lot of unknow faces among the rowdy bunch of customers. On her lips, an empty smile was hiding her disappointment. Her target hadn't showed up yet. Adjusting the lute's cords, she took a deep breath. The crowd's loud chattering evaporated at the back of her mind as her fingers slipped across the instrument's tight strands. The song's lyrics left her lips in meek, enchanting tones. Her pleasant voice had been proved useful in order to fool her targets. Who'd suspect a crowd entertainer of being a skilled assassin? But her mother had never acknowledged the usefulness of her gift. You're too soft, she'd often reproached her. You won't survive in this cruel world. You're not made to be a shinobi.
Her fingers suddenly flinched, and she almost missed a chord. Maemi inhaled sharply. Focus. If her integration into Konoha's most skilled assassin division had proved one thing, it was that she wasn't soft.
When the song ended, a round of applause broke the inn's cacophony. Behind the bar, the inn's owner, Iko, raised a glass to salute her performance. She curtly smiled back at him. They had the perfect agreement. In exchange of a room to stay, she'd sing every other night on his bar's modest stage to attract clients. And tonight, she'd perform her final representation.
Once the crowd's applauses subsided, she chose to play a couple of northern songs. It'd always raise the spirit of the locals and make the beer flows to Iko's utter satisfaction.
...
Three hours later, she'd given up.
Scanning the crowd for the eight time, she still wasn't able to spot her mission's target. She swallowed a sigh. Konoha's old councilmen wouldn't be too happy about the mission's outcome. Slightly paranoid, they were always afraid about the eventuality of someone spilling out the village's secrets, big conspiracies and unexpected attacks. As a member of the Lonely Hearts – an all-female division specialized in silent assassinations, she'd often be called in order to quietly dispose of potential threats against the village's prosperity. Among her division sisters, she'd earned the nickname of The Siren. Since no man could possibly resist the deathly call of her voice.
Taking a step back, she avoided colliding with a staggering man barely able to hold his mug upright. Attending her tables, Trine's blond hair were frizzling with the air's humidity. At one of the tables, an old man cheered loudly after he put down a winning hand of cards, gathering the pot of cents from the table's center. As she was passing by the inn's bar to go upstairs, Iko called out to her by sliding an empty glass on the counter.
"Thirsty, little bird?"
Maemi rolled her eyes at the ridicule nickname he'd insisted on giving her after he'd heard her sing for the first time. She didn't feel like a bird. A caged one, at most.
"I think I'll call it a night," she politely declined. "I'll start to pack my things upstairs."
She hadn't brought a lot of personal items for the mission. It all fitted into a single bag. Since her target hadn't showed up, she'd planned to eat some cold leftovers while she'd be writing her mission's report.
"It's on the house," the man insisted, already pouring a good amount of translucent alcohol into her glass. "After this performance, you deserve it. The folks are loving it. You'll be sincerely missed."
She caved in. Sitting on one of the bar's stools, she took a sip of her drink, silently enjoying the alcohol's burn. Iko hastened to serve a couple who'd come up to the counter. Maemi sighed. The moment she'd step a toe back in the village, the Council wouldn't wait to assign her another target. She'd already given four years of her life to the division, and each year had slowly eaten up a small part of her soul. To lure their target to a certain death, every smile had to be perfectly calculated. A skillful illusion. Many of her division sisters weren't able to make it that far. Too often they'd get lost amongst the lies and the deception.
Swirling her glass, she imagined that the alcohol's ripples were actually raging waves of the ocean. In a year, she'd be done with her contract, and she'd have enough money set aside to peacefully retire by the sea. It was the thought she'd been holding on to these last months.
Short of breath, one of the waitresses dropped her empty tray on the bar, before slamming a customer's order against the counter. Trapped in a revealing low-neck, Salome's voluminous chest was rising up with each breath.
"Where's Callie?" Iko asked, frowning. Focused, he poured an uneven amount of alcohol in a bunch of glasses. "She's late."
A crimson shade was tinting the woman's round cheeks as she started to fill her tray with bowls of nuts, napkins, utensils and glasses. "Callie isn't coming. She's sick," Salome replied. "We don't have anyone to cover the tables five to eleven."
Iko sighed. "What about Nina?"
This time, it was Salome's turn to sigh desperately, getting a strand of brown hair out of her face. Working fast, the waitress almost knock over a row of glasses. "Nina's stuck at home. The storm is hitting hard near the village's border. Plus, she's babysitting her sister's kids since she couldn't-"
"Alright," Iko intervened calmly, trying to soothe the waitress's rising anxiety. His gaze trailed over Trine's petite form at the back of the inn, obviously overwhelmed by the amount of tables to cover. The man scratched his cheek absently, grunting. "I'll find a solution. Maybe if I close the bar's section, we'll be able to-"
"I'll do it."
Two pairs of eyes turned to her. Drinking down the last sips of her drink, Maemi put down the glass on the bar's counter. She internally sighed. Maybe she'd miss this place a bit, after all.
"Really? You'd be a life saver, little bird," Iko praised her proposition as if she'd been sent by the gods themselves. "Of course, I'll compensate you for it and-"
Shaking her head negatively, she smiled to him. Maybe the closest thing to a real smile she'd offered to anyone these last months. "There's no need. You've already given me a lot."
The man's kind eyes trailed over her expression for a second, before he nodded. "Thank you."
Iko went to the other end of the bar, where Trine had disposed of the content of her tray, piling up empty bowls, glasses and used utensils on the counter.
Picking up her tray, full again, Salome threw her a quick glance. "You've got experience?"
Maemi recalled some of her memories. She'd posed as a waitress for a couple of missions over the years. And after four years in the division, she'd already dealt with a fair share of jerks. It wouldn't be too hard to deal with a handful of difficult customers. Lifting the corner of her lips, she smiled innocently.
"Don't worry about me. I'll manage."
...
While she was dressing up behind the bar, Trine grabbed her attention by tapping her shoulder lightly. "Are you going to be alright with the customers in the corner's booth?" the blond asked in a low whisper. She subtly pointed them out. "Table nine."
Maemi finished tying up the inn's uniform – an unflattering baby-blue apron, and slipped a notepad and a pen in its front pocket. She discreetly threw a glance at the left corner's booth. Dressed in dark coat decorated with red clouds, there wasn't any doubt about their identities. Akatsuki. Four of them. The Bingo Book's pages flipped through her mind. From afar, she tried to discern their faces better. Her gaze landed on one particular face. Kisame Hoshigaki. She stiffened. Old memories she'd long chosen to forget about suddenly poured into her mind, blurring her vision momentarily. Crashing waves, sandcastles and a foggy rain.
She promptly blinked the memories away.
"I think they're nins," Trine added. Her lips twisted into a pout as her blue gaze lingered on another table filled with a noisy group of ninjas from the northern village, known troublemakers. "There's a lot of them, tonight."
Maemi hadn't missed the absence of Kenji, Callie's boyfriend and the inn's bouncer. He'd probably chosen to stay over at his girlfriend's place since she'd fallen sick. Built like an ox, Kenji had to intervene in testosterone-driven fights more than once. Grabbing a serving tray, she briefly glanced at the table of the missing nins, apprehensive. She'd ran across their profile in the Bingo Book. All four of them. They weren't to be taken lightly.
"It'll be fine," Maemi assured her, trying to soothe down the petite waitress's nervousness by adopting Iko's calming tone. "And Iko's here. He won't let things go south."
She nodded. "You're right. I shouldn't worry."
...
Their chakra's signatures were perfectly masked to pass as one of a civilian's. The jashinist was the first to acknowledge her presence at their table. Unbothered, his elbows were resting on the table while his opened coat offered a glimpse of his chiseled abs.
"You're the little singer," the silver-haired man proclaimed. Looking at her, the jashinist's amethyst gaze was shining with a mischievous light. "It's a pretty voice you've got. One that's worthy of my God, I'd say."
Her heart missed a beat. Is he insinuating that I'd make a good sacrifice? Frozen on her lips, her tight smile showed a distant politeness. But in her chest, her heart was beating so loud she feared it might be heard by Kisame, the closest one to her, sitting on the aisle's side. She still hadn't mustered the courage to voluntarily cross his gaze, fearing he might recognize her even if they'd both quite changed over the years. Fortunately, she didn't seem to particularly spark his interest for the moment. Good.
"Cut it out, Hidan," interrupted a low voice. "You're making our waitress uncomfortable."
The jashinist chuckled darkly. "You're ruining all my fun, Itachi."
They weren't even bothering to hide their real name. As if this village, and its people, weren't even considered a potential threat. But after all, they were in such a remote area that news from outside didn't travel much in the modest village. The Akatsuki wasn't as well-known around here.
On Hidan's left, Kakuzu put down the menu he'd been holding. "We'll take a round of beers and the cheapest meal you're serving."
His eyes greener than a summer field were piercing her. The Bingo Book hadn't described them as such a vivid green. Like the shiniest of emeralds. Scratching her throat, she quickly recomposed herself. As she was about to note the order down, the jashinist suddenly slammed his hands on the table. She flinched.
"Oh, to hell with the budget! I won't be starving while we're stuck in this shithole of a town," protested Hidan. "We'll have some meat, darling."
Not hearing any further protests, she closed her notepad. "Right away, gentlemen."
"Oh, we aren't exactly gentlemen," Hidan sneered.
She smiled sweetly. "And I'm not exactly a darling."
Her snarky retort unsettled him for a moment before his lips quirked into a sly smile. Grabbing all of the menus, she swiftly walked away from the table full of S-Class criminals. Crap. She normally wouldn't have to be around such high threat nins, ones that had the capacity to detect the fake play. The blatant lie. She'd be sent after smaller fishes. Minor perpetrators like fugitives, thieves or politicians. Easy targets.
This isn't my day, really.
Halfway through the evening, she'd memorized the inn's menu and specials by heart, turned down an offer for a threesome and thought about shoving a customer's meal up his ass at least three times. As she was refilling his glass of water, Kisame addressed her directly for the first time of the evening.
"You aren't from around here, are you?"
Her gaze briefly landed on him, wary. Play the part, she thought. His half-smirk was showing off the tip of sharp teeth – a peculiar trait she'd heard to be shared amongst the other members of the Seven Swordsmen of the Mist. For a second, she couldn't stop herself from admiring the way his blueish skin reflected the soft inn's lighting. His features had changed over the years; they'd hardened.
Remembering his initial question, the half-truths started to easily slip from her lips. "I'm not," she smiled innocently. "I've been travelling a lot to sing. I'm originally from the Land of Fire. You guys aren't from here either, right?"
His suspicious eyes lingered across her face. It was in a nin's nature to be suspicious of others. If she wasn't careful with her act, she'd probably end up dead in the inn's dumpster. Also, she'd just violated one of Iko's golden rules by asking a personal question to a customer. Shit. But at least, with a bit of chance, he'd stop asking questions about herself.
"We aren't," he replied curtly.
She forced a smile on her lips, acting as natural as possible. "Well, I'll bring out your table's food in a sec-"
A plate shattered loudly on the floor. Maemi snapped her head towards the source of the commotion – and quickly found the reason for the disturbance. At the back of the room, Trine's petite form was trying to get away from a man's tight grip – one of the nins of the northern village's small military force. She couldn't remember his name.
"Get back here, doll," the man snickered. Obviously drunk, he talked loud enough for the whole inn to hear him. "I can't let go of such a pretty thing, can I?"
Way stronger than the petite waitress, the man roughly pulled on Trine's arm to bring her onto his lap. The man's companions laughed at the scene, as intoxicated as him. They'd always drink too much and cause a lot of trouble. Harassing the waitresses seemed to be one of their favorite games.
Trine couldn't force her lips to smile politely anymore, tears prickling the corner of her blue eyes. Maemi almost broke the tray in her hands, clutching to it. Her teeth gritted together. In other circumstances, it'd have been such an easy thing to break the man's fingers. To bring him on his knees, and teach him some manners. But she had her hands tied. She couldn't blow up her cover. Unfortunately, it wasn't an uncommon situation. But tonight, Callie's boyfriend wasn't there to manage the situation. And none of the customers wanted to get tangled with the village's authorities.
Beside her, Salome was holding the water carafe as if the handle was the men's neck.
"Where's Iko?" Maemi murmured to her.
The old man wouldn't let it stand. If you're messing with one of my girls, you're messing with me, he'd always say. And those weren't empty words. He'd broken a guy's nose for grasping Salome's butt, last month. Maemi wasn't sensing his presence in the room.
"He's upstairs talking with the butcher about next month's delivery," the girl replied. She put down the carafe. "I'll go get him."
Trine was wiggling in the man's arms while he was laughing at her unsuccessful attempts to escape his grip. It was nothing but a game, for him. A cruel one. The girl's eyes suddenly locked with hers across the room, full of tears. And suddenly, Maemi couldn't stand it anymore.
"Let go of her, jackass," she shouted from across the room.
A heavy silence embalmed the room. Startled, the man lifted their head in her direction. He revealed a row of yellowish teeth, scoffing. "Care to join us, doll?"
"You're not welcome here anymore," she responded with a stiff voice, the one she'd usually employ as a mission's leader. Concise, calculated and confident. "Leave. I won't ask you twice."
The man's face twisted with derision. Rising up, he roughly pushed Trine off his lap. Not able to catch herself, the girl rudely hit her head against the table's corner. He pulled out a kunai, chuckling as he played with it.
"Or what, doll? You'll throw me out?" he grinned. "Don't you know who I am?"
She froze. To win a fight, you needed to have the upper hand. She didn't have any advantages. No hidden cards. Only empty threats. She relativized. At least, Trine wasn't being molested anymore. She'd just have to wait for Iko to come down. At best, she needed to stall them. In the corner of her gaze, Hidan's body was stretched across the booth as if he was watching a movie at the theater.
"I bet five coins that the guy scares her off," he murmured loudly to his partner, on his right. To support his words, he slipped the coins on the table.
"Ten coins that she cries," outbid Kakuzu.
Hidan nodded. "Deal."
Suddenly, she was plainfully aware of Kisame's silent presence right beside her. Her foot was almost touching the leg that he'd lazily stretched out in the aisle. An idea formed itself into her mind. Their gaze met. There wasn't any of that boyish softness in his dark eyes anymore.
"If you get rid of them, all of your table's food is on the house," she offered to him.
The other nin said something to her from across the room, but she didn't pay him any attention. She couldn't detach her eyes from Kisame's, fully absorbed. The missing-nin didn't take much time to think about her offer. He grinned widely as if she'd just suggested the idea of the year. Cracking his phalanges, he swiftly got up. "Alright, it's finally time to have a little bit of fun."
Across the room, the man's smug smile faltered as Kisame's intimidating form approached him in a straight line, like a shark ready to attack. The man's comrades hesitantly got up to help, but it was a vain attempt. Moments later, the inn's front door violently opened and in a matter of a blink, the men had been thrown out as if they'd been simple bags of trash. She slightly shuddered as she felt the sheer emanations of dangerous strength escaping from Kisame's being, raw and deadly. If he wanted, he could destroy this place with a flick of his wrist. And she wouldn't be able to stop him. None of them, actually.
A deafening silence accompanied the closing of the inn's door, along with an icy gust of wind. One of the inn's regular – an old woman with an indefectible love for Iko's bar, enthusiastically rose her glass of alcohol in the air, whistling.
"That'll give the bastards a good lesson!" she cheered.
In response, the whole room cheered on the missing nin's intervention. Unfazed by the rounds of applauses and enthusiastic shouts, Kisame calmly walked back to his place. Gradually, the room's atmosphere lightened up until it went back to its usual cacophony.
In the aisle, Kisame's tall figure loomed over her, intimidating. They used to be around the same height, but he'd outgrown her by a lot of inches. And she considered herself to be quite tall, a little under six foot. She lifted her chin up to look into his eyes. She couldn't find any glimmer of recognition in his dark gaze. She should have been scared but instead, her whole body warmed up until a light shade of red covered her cheeks. She suddenly followed his gaze that'd locked itself to her left hand. She stiffened, and her heart started to furiously beat into her chest's cavity. Crap, crap, crap.
During the commotion, she'd unconsciously grabbed the nearest weapon – Kisame's table knife. She'd held it along her thigh all this time. She subtly put it in her apron's pocket, but it hadn't escaped Kisame's sharp eyes. Or Itachi's, for that matter.
She kept up with the innocent waitress's act, smiling. "It'd fallen on the ground. I'll bring you another one."
"Come on, guys!" she heard Hidan complain as she was walking away stiffly. "You're really ruining all of my fun tonight."
Kisame hadn't tried to stop her. She was sure of it, now. He didn't remember her. After all, she'd dyed her hair for that mission, she'd lost her childlike plumpness, now lean and slender, and only the freckles remained on her cheeks to betray her, but it was a fairly common trait. Maemi didn't understand why she wasn't feeling relieved. Now a member of one of the most dangerous criminal organizations, he wasn't the boy she once knew. He wouldn't hesitate to get rid of her if she revealed herself to be a threat. But still, a bitter disappointment was weighing her heart down as she walked up to Trine.
Iko had just came down the stairs in Salome's company. Maemi briefly explained the situation while Iko's gaze couldn't detach itself from Trine's nasty bump on the forehead. The man closed the bar section, and insisted on inspecting Trine's wound more closely upstairs. Once the pair had disappeared into the staff's room to fetch Trine's makeup bag, Maemi's shoulders finally relaxed.
For the latest part of the evening, she could feel Kisame's gaze occasionally burning the nape of her neck. It didn't leave her alone the rest of the entire night, always watching. Worse than a hawk scrutinizing its prey from afar. She shuddered. Even if he hadn't recognized her, maybe she'd still messed up with the knife thing. Crap.
She'd have to work really hard to get out of that one. The old memories floated back at the surface of her mind, infiltrating her thoughts. She tried to push them down, but they kept coming up. Sighing, she focused on her work that'd suddenly doubled now that Trine couldn't attend her tables anymore.