#if you EVER get a chance to try the rogue river blue fucking take it

[pierogipete]

day 9: 2103 words

total: 18500 words

drove to a cheese shop 90 mins away from me bc my friend works there and bought some wensleydale (my favorite, its like if cheescake were a cheese (ik that sounds stupid but trust me the honey lemon wensleydale is fuckingbomb) )

finished up kims conflict, next up is to send kim and porsche on a road trip of their own where only a little trauma happens ;)

[krispydefendorpolice]

Once Upon A Miraculous - Part 2

Ok before we even get into the story here’s yet another warning to think twice before you continue. Jason dies. He dies in a gruesome, traumatizing event and even though I think I went over it very lightly I still think it’s pretty fucking graphic. I’m the writer and I. Had. To. Fucking. Stop. And take a break before I could continue with the story.

Violence and the results it can have on the body ahead. Madness from the pit and angst from hurt feeling of being replaced ahead. For the last time. You’ve all been warned so read at your own risk.

I’m going to trust that you all know your headspace well enough and for those that choose to read anyways? Thank you for going on this journey with me. I hope the falls between here and the end are worth the river journey and the lake we reach at the end (yes those are f*ing metaphors. I’m feeling philosophical at the moment)

Previous Masterpost list

————————————

“It’s me Nettie. I’m alive”

****************************

Jason was 14 years old when he met the Batman. He came across an unwatched batmobile. The tires on it could be sold for more than the average car and he had the tools on him.

One last check and he got to work. He was already thinking about the things he could buy for himself and his street siblings that he forgot the number one rule. Always keep a lookout.

The Batman caught him red handed with three wheels off and the fourth half done. After being forced to return the wheels to the car Jason was taken to the underground batcave. He met Alfred and the unmasked Batman. Bruce “fucking billionaire” Wayne.

Less than a month later he’s living in the manor and has been “adopted”. He doesn’t trust it. Rich men don’t want son’s and there are too many kids with stories about the horrors that “nice family’s” hide behind closed doors. But he’s got a roof over his head and food in his stomach. If Wayne thinks that will be enough to buy him he’s going to find out how wrong he was.

Jason starts small at first. If he can just get the man angry enough to throw him out he won’t have to worry about being brought back. Setting all the alarms in the house and making them unfixable was a bit of a challenge. Seeing Bruce’s face when he changed the passwords was brilliant.

It continued that way for a few months until Bruce finally decided if Jason was gonna be a little shit he could learn to fight better instead. Jason decided that if he was going to learn to fight he would take over the abandoned Robin role too.

Dick was not happy. The first time Jason got to meet the man was after he was seen as Robin. He came to the manor and yelled at Bruce, saying he had no right to give his costume and name to someone else. Jason listened from the second story.

As angry as the two men got neither came to blows over it. Dick ended the fight by storming out and he put the older hero on radio silence for months after but neither had any injuries from their disagreement. If Jason had ever even looked at his old man funny as a kid he would have a black eye and welts on his back to show for it.

Maybe Bruce could be trusted after all?

****************************

At 15 years old Bruce is engaged to Selina Kyle. Their on again off again thing as hero and thief where they danced around each other had been driving Jason and Alfred batty. It was nice to see them actually settle into their thing as each challenged the other and kept them on their toes.

When Selina said she was going to be spending the summer with the daughter of an old schoolmate of hers Jason didn’t think much of it. He knew she had a legit degree she used to assess the potential spoils of her criminal activities.

He arrived at Wayne Enterprises a little early for their lunch meeting. Bruce had told him they’d meet in the lobby so after greeting the receptionists he looked for a place to sit. In one of the chairs facing the doors a small girl looked up at the windows before going back to her book and writing something. No she was probably drawing with long pencil strokes like that.

Curious he walked over to see if he could look at her drawing. He could see what looked like an image of the stained glass windows on the page but the lines through them gave it a softer, almost flowing shape. Which was weird cause glass wouldn’t follow those lines.

“What are you drawing?” He found himself asking her.

She jumped so he’d obviously surprised her. His thoughts were captured by her bright blue eyes. In the light coming from those stained glass windows she’d been admiring they almost seemed to glow.

She said she was designing a dress while she waited for her guardian and the fiancé to return. This must be Selina’s friends daughter.

Lunch was a fun affair where the girl shared she would be designing costumes for Jagged stone to wear during his concert tour this summer. She would stay with Selina in Gotham from Monday to Thursday while she designed and created clothes she would fly to whatever city Jagged was playing in from Thursday to Sunday to be on hand during the concerts for any costume repairs that would be needed.

Bruce volunteered Jason to show Marinette around the city since it wouldn’t be safe for her to be alone. Jason agrees because it’s summer break and he likes the Marinette he talked stained glass windows with and wonders what other beauty she will see in his dark city.

**

He is breathless by the beauty she sees all around her. The joy and happiness she shines as easily as she breathes. Everyone she meets becomes a new friend. Even the tamer of the Rogues and the Siren’s who meet her are enthralled by her smile and her charm.

Kissing her was a completely spontaneous action. He had thought about it for weeks by then but she had said there was a guy back home she sort of still had a crush on though she wasn’t happy with how they wanted to deal with the liar situation. So he was resigned to keeping his budding feelings to himself so that he could see her happy.

It had been the night of the last concert. Jagged had Marinette come on stage where he officially introduced her as his designer and the creator of all the tour costumes to the world. She had beamed with a smile so wide that when she threw herself into Jason’s arms after walking off stage he had just pulled back and placed a kiss on her lips.

He froze when he realized what he did. Marinette had stood on her tiptoe to start their second kiss.

For a week they were blissfully happy and free with their affection. Multiple paparazzi got pictures of them holding hands, kissing each other or just cuddling when they were waiting. Jasonette and the Sunshine of Gotham blew up on social media.

Saying goodbye to her was a really hard thing to do. So Jason went shopping for something he could give her to remember him by. They had decided they would try a long distance thing but he was afraid it wouldn’t be enough. If they did fall apart from distance he wanted something she could use to always fondly remember the summer fling they had.

It was perfect. He knew it might be impractical but he was convinced that it would be the perfect gift for her someday.

************************

They made it work. They had talked everyday and he spent every chance he could in France with her. He met her parents and they met Bruce as well. Marinette had her school situation resolved following her return.

He was proud of her for sticking up for herself when all her classmates seemed ready to abandon the liar just because Marinette had a connection they could use again. Nathaniel, Rose and Juleka were all artsy like Marinette and he could see how their creative energies inspired each other and themselves.

He was a week away from his departure to spend the summer in France with Marinette and her family when it happened. A false lead led to his capture by the Joker.

(Begin Angst)

The first break hurt but it was bearable. He had broken bones before. His bio dad had broken them frequently when he was still alive. The fifth hurt as bad. He also had a concussion and several burns at that time as well.

What felt like days, weeks, years... minutes?, passed in a haze as he jerked with every new hit. He was a mess from vomit, blood, piss and shit when his body couldn’t follow his commands any longer.

He held to the belief that Batman would come for him. That his father could still save him.

When the Joker left, Jason was lying on the concrete floor looking at the bomb countdown. He knew he had to get out of there, he pushed his battered body past the point he could feel pain and struggled to the door. He pulled on it but it wouldn’t open. The rattle of chains on the other side told him why.

He collapsed to the floor, tears streaming as he watched the numbers countdown.

10, 9, 8...

I’m sorry Alfred.

7, 6, 5,...

I’m sorry Bruce.

4, 3,...

I’m sorry Nettie.

2, 1,

I love...

(End Angst)

He was only 16. He would never see 17.

***************************

It was dark. It was small. It was hard to breathe. He was in some kind of box. He screamed and hit the walls around him trying to get out, trying to find some air.

It surprised him when cold pieces fell from above him. It had a new smell. He focused his determination on that spot. More of the new thing came down into his cage. He pushed it away from him and continued. There. Briefly a breath of clean, fresh air.

With new determination he pushed harder towards the life giving air. He was able to pull his head and shoulders out of the box. He rested for a moment swallowing greedy gulps of air into his starved lungs. When he was able to continue he pulled himself from the ground and looked around. As far as his eye could see were stones standing from the ground around him and beyond those trees and underbrush fading into shadows.

He picked a direction at random and began to walk.

**

It was familiar. Grab an item, run. The actions came without conscious memory. The streets were cold but he was big enough to scare off the worst of the predators. There were a few small people, kids, that came to him for protection from the bigger people. He did what he could but it never seemed to be enough he thought, as he stood over another small, broken body.

“I can give you a way to protect them.”

He looked up. She was beautiful but her eyes were cold. Empty and unfeeling. But she had promised to give him a way to protect the little ones. He was willing to try anything for that power.

What was his name? How old was he? He didn’t know.

****************************************

Jason.

He remembered his name as he lunged from the sickly green waters that Talia had led him to. He remembered Bruce, his father, but he didn’t save him from the Joker. He remembered the Jokers laughter ringing in his ears as he stood over another broken child on the streets. And the new shadow following the shape of the Batman when he was an amnesiac wandering the streets of Gotham.

He had been REPLACED!! He fumed. The anger and resentment over Bruces inability to save him, to avenge him and his replacing him as if Jason meant nothing, festered and boiled in his mind.

When he left the League of Shadows his only plan was to go back to Gotham and get revenge for his own death and to hurt his so called father as badly as he could. If Jason meant so little to him then he would show how little Bruce meant to him.

**

(Mild violence ahead)

Their first reunion was in a fight over drug dealers selling heroin to kids. Jason looked directly at the bat, pulled his gun and shot the dealers in the forehead.

(Violence over)

“These are my streets now. I won’t tolerate kids getting hurt on my watch.”

He disappeared before Batman could restrain him.

For weeks they danced around. Batman trying to catch him and Jason using every trick he learned from the Bat himself to avoid him.

Blood flowed freely from the wicked and the corrupt. He was a villain in his own right bringing judgement and execution down upon the criminals of Gotham.

Batman always appealed to the better side of him, to stop his madness. Didn’t he understand that part died? The child that trusted in heroes to protect the innocent died at the hands of a monster. A monster that his father couldn’t chase away.

The RedHood was risen from the pits and unleashed upon the evil of Gotham.

He was 18 years old.

******************************

Months of their back and forth dynamic between RedHood and Batman passed. The Batman couldn’t arrest the RedHood but the RedHood couldn’t stop tweaking his cape to get a reaction.

Didn’t he care? Wasn’t he going to stop him? He was doing everything wrong so why wouldn’t Bruce do the same for him that he did for all the other criminals in Gotham?

It was when Jason had the Joker at the business end of a gun that he got his answers.

“Don’t do it Hood,” Bruce pleaded. “It will change you beyond what you can come back from if you do.”

“I’ve already killed, B,” his words caught as he gasped, fighting back tears of rage. “My hands are dripping in blood.

He laughed madly then, “‘Yet who would have thought the old man to have had so much blood in him?’ Who knew that bitch knew what she was talking about.”

“It’s the madness that’s done it Hood. You’ve barely held control before. But you’re fighting the killing urge and directing it to those that do deserve it.”

“And yes,” he interrupted before Jason could argue, “no one deserves it more than Joker for what he’s done to you. But if you do it then the madness will win. Please I can’t lose my son again,” he begged.

“WHY DOES THAT MATTER NOW?!” Jason screamed. “He killed me. I was dead in the ground and you let him walk. WHY COULDN’T YOU KILL HIM?! AM I THAT MEANINGLESS TO YOU!?!!”

“I COULDN’T!” Bruce yelled back. “If I killed him I wouldn’t be able to stop killing. It wouldn’t just be the Joker that died, it would be every criminal in Gotham who dared step out of line. I wanted to. I still want to. He took my son from me but I know that once I start I won’t be able to stop. I’m sorry that I’m so weak, but I couldn’t.”

The Batman, no Bruce Wayne, stood before him, head bowed in defeat as he admitted to his greatest shame.

Jason looked away before dropping the gun and walking away. He knew Bruce would take the Joker back to Arkham so he just needed to get away and think.

**

They worked to build their relationships anew. He couldn’t be the son Bruce remembered anymore, too much had changed, but he could be the son he was today. He could do what he could for the Replacement and make sure the kid didn’t get himself killed on the streets. The girl that joined them got the same measure of protection though she was better able to defend herself.

When he finally let go of thoughts of revenge he could think about a time when a stray spark of living Sunshine found its way to cold, grey Gotham. He finally looked up news of Marinette to see how she was doing. He broke down and cried when her wedding announcement to the son of a Parisian fashion house was the first thing to pop up.

Selina, Bruce and Alfred all encouraged him to take a trip to France anyways to get some closure, to say goodbye. But he refused, the smile in her eyes as she looked at her new husband in the picture convinced him that she was happy. And that was all he ever wanted for her, even if it couldn’t be him giving the her the world.

He was 19 years old when he made peace with his past.

****************************

He was 20 years old when news of the villain Hawkmoth and his defeat hit the international press. He was livid to realize that his beloved Nettie had been in so much danger just living in a city that should have been safe. That the Justice League had done nothing when the citizens pleaded for help.

It felt like the period after his revival in the pit as he stormed the halls of the WatchTower. His vision was in various shades of red and his thoughts just kept turning back to how Marinette might have been killed in one of the villain’s monster attacks. Hell, she probably did die once or twice only to be revived by the hero’s magic.

If he ever got to meet LadyBug he would shower her in appreciation for defending the city his Nettie lived in.

The door crashed and nearly fell off the hinges when he threw it open and stormed through into the Leagues council room.

“RedHood,” Batman said calmly as he stalked up to the table.

Slamming his hands down and leaning over the collected heroes he asked what he’d wanted to since the news broke.

“Who. Screwed. Up?”

“When footage of the attacks first reached the League, investigations were done. No lasting damage was left from the attacks so it was written off as a publicity stunt and subsequent messages were ignored,” Batman explained. “It was a phone operator that fielded these calls. They went based off the assessment done by the League and deleted them.”

“She could have died B. I was dead and couldn’t do anything but you should have been keeping an eye on her. You know what she means to me.”

Batman nodded, “I should have. The messages never reached me but I should have been keeping a watch on her regardless of that.”

“You’re going to make amends to those heroes for ignoring them,” Jason stated. “All of you are,” he added, including the other heroes in the room in his statement.

“Yes,” Batman agreed.

Jason jerked his head in a nod and left the room. Going back to the cave where he can do his own check and make sure Marinette was safe.

********************************

It wasn’t just the League that failed Marinette. Jason knew he was as much to blame. If he had gone to Paris? If he had seen her? If he had told her he was alive? Would she have suffered under Hawkmoth? If, if, if.

News of the divorce of up and coming fashion designer MDC and the son of the fashion mogul and former villain Adrian Agreste hit airwaves like lightning. In the beginning people claimed it was Marinette who left because of Hawkmoth’s identity. Adrian was fast to shut that down and own that he was the one to ask for the divorce for personal reasons. With what seemed to be an amicable break up the world turned its attention to the next sound bite.

He’d failed her again. Jason just sat by his empty grave as he cried when he learns about it. He argues with Alfred and Selina when they bring up him visiting Paris afterwards. This time Bruce supports his decision. He doesn’t approve and lets Jason know it, but he supports him.

Returning to the cave after patrol, Jason was the last to arrive. He didn’t know why everyone was gathered by the computer so he went to take a look. He didn’t hear what Alfred said as he walked over. Momentarily blinded by the helmet as he removed it, he froze when he finally saw what, no who, had his family’s attention.

She had grown since their first meeting, not in height but in maturity. She had traded the fun pigtails for an elegant braid, and jeans for a sundress obviously of her own design.

“Hi, Monsieur Alfred introduced the others but I haven’t gotten your name yet. I am Marinette Dupain-Cheng,” she introduces herself as if she were meeting a stranger for the first time.

It hurt his heart that she would do that with him, though he realizes why she did. She didn’t know. She couldn’t know that it was him under the mask.

The words wouldn’t come though when he tried to find them and tell her. He finally settled for showing her, hoping she would believe her eyes.

After she gasped in reaction to his reveal he thought maybe his approach was a bit boneheaded after all. Nothing to do but go forward from there though.

“It’s me Nettie. I’m alive.”

Marinette teared up but instead of breaking down and crying she ran to him and jumped into his arms. Burying her face in his neck she just murmured “You’re alive” over and over.

“Yeah,” he admitted. He held her as tightly as he dared. A little worried he might hurt her by accident.

When she pulled away he reluctantly let her go but it was worth it.

She gave him the biggest smile and he saw it again.

He was 21 years old and the sun was shining in cold, grey Gotham once more.

————————————

So I really got into the structure I used for the first chapter and exuded to use the same for this one. They end at different ages because Jason’s a few months older and this happened in that in between time (the real reason is sections were getting too busy so I add another year to his story. How do I rationalize it? Well birthdays are a thing so there you go).

I hope everyone enjoyed this wild ride. I do plan to do an epilogue chapter but that will have to wait until next weekend. Anyone have any ideas you can send it to me.

@pepelachanel @mellownieice @kris-pines04 @zebrabaker @two-faced-biatch @vixen-uchiha @mandy984 @shamefullove @mycupisbroken @dawnwave16 @abrx2002 @mochinek0 @tbehartoo @fertileleaf @thanks-captain-obvious @ravennightingaleandavatempus @hinata3487 @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @hypnosharkrebeldreamer @zalladane @dast218 @miraculous786 @18-fandoms-unite-08 @moonlightstar64 @mooshoon @ladybug182 @iggy-of-fans @legendaryneckjudgestudent @megawhitleycalderonpaganus @finallyaniguana @tog84 @mystery-5-5 @evil-elf16

[celticfeather]

Chapter 1: https://celticfeather.tumblr.com/post/188433697686/akatsuki-fic-campfires

Cannibals Chapter 3: The Lineage of Izanagi

-Uchiha Itachi-

Something particularly loveless prodded Itachi awake.

"You're the last watch till dawn," Kakuzu said. Itachi activated his sharingan as he woke, his dark eyes shifting to red. He could see Kakuzu's green ones were dilated near-sightlessly in the blackness.

Itachi rose and leapt up their chosen watchman's tree. The sharingan allowed him to see a wider spectrum of visible light than a normal human, and what should have been the black jungle night gained a strange ultraviolet tinge, a whitish-purple color somewhere between neon and dark that his language could not well describe. The stars and chakras shined different, coldly-bright, minty colors too. But he saw no glows of enemy shinobi in the night, just the gentle silver chakra silhouettes of sleeping birds and insects, and the three ninja below him. He let his sharingan fade. In an hour it had become bright enough for ordinary humans to see.

He alighted between the three ninja sleeping on the ground to no response. So much for Kisame's 'I only half sleep' claim.

Unsure of the best way to wake them, Itachi announced at normal volume, "It's dawn."

They rose quickly and quietly, professional in every mercenary sense of the word. For a troupe of cantankerous rogues, Itachi was surprised no one complained. He supposed that would resume once they decided they were no longer being hunted.

"No sign of the enemy since I've been awake," Itachi reported.

"Time to get the hell out of the land of Lightning. Anyone gotta take a piss, now's the time," Kakuzu said. After a short moment, the four ninja oriented themselves against the eastern dawn, and began leaping through the trees.

"Where's Zetsu when you need him?" Deidara muttered as they ran. "He'd say what Pain wants us to do about this."

"You don't need Pain or his pet mushroom. You have me," Kakuzu said.

"Yeah? And who made you second in command?"

"I'm the one who actually talks with our contractors. So naturally, I have our mission intel, and there's no reason to stop work."

"Hmpf," Deidara said.

"Since you fucked up the least, Kisame, I'll let you pick what you do." Kakuzu said. "You want to fix this Raikage incident, or make some money?"

Kisame looked at Itachi for his opinion. Itachi merely raised his eyebrows in reply.

"Make money," Kisame answered. Good. Itachi wanted to be away from this disaster.

"Great. You two go to this shithole village and kill their patriarch. When you're done with that, some pirates could use a lesson in not leaving witnesses." Kakuzu tossed a scroll to Kisame and one to Itachi, who each caught them deftly. Kakuzu then looked at Deidara.

"Deidara, you and Sasori will fix your fuck up. We don't want the Cloud or Mist investigating the Akatsuki. Blame it on different terrorists."

"How do we do that?"

"Doesn't matter," Kakuzu said.

Deidara frowned. But his calmness suggested he thought Sasori would know how to fix it.

They were soon over the border of the Land of Frost, where they said the brief goodbyes of stiff men. Itachi and Kisame continued west. Deidara went north. Kakuzu south. They stopped at a collection point on the way to get Kisame a new robe and gear, and began their ascent to the next mission's village in the afternoon.

They stopped along a river to prepare. The mint-colored alpine meltwater cooled the air in a low dense pocket from the beating sun. Itachi opened the scroll of mission intel and familiarized himself with the details. "Small town. Better we don't make a stir."

Kisame grunted in acknowledgement and stepped towards the river, swinging Samehada off his shoulder. He summoned a large deep-blue shark along the bank. It opened its mouth, and Kisame pressed the wrapped Samehada inside its white-fleshed throat. The two ninja being armed to the teeth was useful for intimidation, but a hindrance to infiltration. As if it was a loyal horse, Kisame patted the magical shark once on the muzzle once it closed its jaws around Samehada.

"You ever touch a shark before, Itachi? Try it."

Like he had been invited to partake in the most dangerous petting zoo, Itachi wet his feet at the bank where the shark, high as his hips, swayed half submerged. He thought the shark would look at him, or at least acknowledge him, but its circular black eyes didn't waver. With a slowness Itachi hoped the fish would interpret as respect, he brushed his palm against its exposed gray flank.

"It feels like sandpaper."

Kisame smiled. "Shark skin is actually made of dentin, the same material as teeth."

Because they need more of that, Itachi thought. He removed his hand, and deeming its duty done, the huge probably-sentient carnivore disappeared with a puff of mist to the realm Kisame had summoned it from.

"It's not easy to make a summoning contract with a shark, you know. Ninja tend to not come back," Kisame said.

"I thought you said sharks don't like how people taste."

"Oh, the sage sharks of Koraru Depths make exceptions for arrogant Mist chunin. You don't taste that bad."

He sent Kisame a reproachful look at his choice of pronouns, but Itachi's face was something of a resting scowl, so Kisame seemed not to notice.

To appear like a traveler of the civilian sort, Itachi untied his shuriken packs and the ninja headband. They kept their robes, no one yet recognized the red clouds as unique. He thought living in the forest on the run gave him enough of a convincingly rough appearance. Lifting his gaze from the water's reflection, he regarded his partner.

"Do I pass for a trader?"

"You look fine. It's your voice that's the problem."

"My voice?"

"I don't know how much you know about the Hidden Mist, but there we have a caste system, and the Hoshigaki belong to a certain caste. And people like me can tell by your dialect, Itachi, that you come from a noble family, and there's not a chance in hell you're a traveling merchant."

Itachi never thought of himself as in an upper class, and caste had been abolished in his land seventy years ago. Kisame's background in the Mist allowed him to perceive things that Itachi never intended to exude. "I see."

"Try gotcha, instead of I see."

"Gotcha."

Itachi pulled a piece of paper from the scroll and unfolded its careful nine-faceted square. A sketch of the man they were paid to kill stared back at them. Taika Hiroki. About sixty years old, leader of the local clan, someone had it out for him. Kisame nodded, having committed his face a last time to memory. Itachi burned the incriminating documents between his fingers.

The pair climbed ancient stairs carved from wood, stone, and roots, along a humid forested mountain crest. Traditional torii winged gates arched over their heads, and the small village soon appeared along a glacial lake between the mountains. A chunin posted at the doorless entrance looked the two travelers up and down. He pulled a root of wild licorice from his teeth before he spoke.

"What brings you to Honomura?"

"We're merchants," Kisame said.

"Here for the festival?"

"Of course."

The guard escorted them in. A minor official who clearly did not get enough visitors gave them each wooden travelers' passes. What a bothersome village.

Itachi felt more endangered in these hamlets. He paradoxically would be less noticed in a large ninja village. It was in these tribal redoubts, where most of the settlement consisted of a single clan, that he knew he was immediately recognized as an outsider. By the introductions they made with petty officials, the pair gleaned that three quarters of the settlement's two-hundred-odd population had the surname Taika, and it would not be easy to find theirs.

But the presence of the foreigners attracted mercifully little attention at the festival. Like moths drawn to the warm haze of paper lanterns, the outlaw pair wandered dazed to the center of the fairgrounds. After weeks in the forest they were transfixed by the live music, the vendors, and best, the greasy scent of real food -not whole animals- which glistened with salt and sauce. They looked at each other with testing eyes that betrayed the same poorly concealed thought.

"How much money do we have," Itachi said.

Kisame checked himself. "I've got eight hundred."

"I have one thousand."

Crap.

"I'll find some more money," Kisame said. Good. They were on the same line of the same page. In less than two minutes, Kisame had stolen a two centimeter wad of cash from a food stand.

Itachi's eyes darted from stand to stand. "What do you want to eat?"

"Do I look picky to you?"

Bristling with treasures —foods on sticks and cups of tea and sake between their knuckles— Itachi and Kisame seated themselves at one of many low tables near the town's stage and began to eat. Soon enough an announcer entered stage center, and introduced an act on the origin of deities.

"How's your knowledge of religion, Itachi?"

"Average."

The play began as they ate, and rusted to art forms, Itachi found himself paying rapt attention. Two actors dressed in white robes, a woman and a spear-wielding man, stepped onto the stage, where white lanterns cast the empty scene in an ethereal fog. Dipping his spear into the water, or rather tapping the stage floor, the man created land, and the white-clouded lanterns slid on the string to be replaced with ones tinted a jungle green.

"Izanami and Izanagi," Itachi whispered to Kisame. "Siblings, but also..." he waved his hand in esoteric explanation.

The creation gods Izanami and Izanagi had several deformed and normative children. First born was Hiruko, stricken with a hunched back, and cast into a river. They had many others, at last birthing Kagutsuchi the fire god. Izanami died giving birth to the flaming infant.

"And with Izanami's end, the world's first death occurred, and with it the age of creation. Intent to amend his wife's unjust fate, Izanagi plunged into the underworld, which then, was not separated from the realm of men," the narrator read.

Izanami wandered through a darkened stage, and stopped short. Behind a veil shined the unmistakable silhouette of his beloved wife.

The curtain lifted, but the woman it revealed was not fair Izanami. The actress's serene white face-paint had become putrefied in death. Children's gasps accented the moment. Fingers curled in shock at his rancid beloved, Izanagi turned away. His wife was enraged at his superficial rejection, and spurred demons after her former lover. Izanagi raced from the underworld, off the stage, where demons in fur-rimmed masks chased him through the audience until Izanagi circled, panting but safe, back onto the stage of the surface world. He pushed a prop-boulder over the cave, forever sealing life from death.

The narrator stepped onto the stage, and a spotlight centered on him, with Izanagi bathing himself in background.

"Izanagi cleansed himself from the underworld in a rushing river. The water that streamed off his face became three new gods:"

The spotlight jumped to greet the new characters in regal dress:

"From one eye sprung the proud moon god, Tsukuyomi."

"From the nose, the mischievous god of sea and storm, Susanoo."

"And from the other eye, artful and enlightened, patron of our village: Amaterasu the sun."

"Amaterasu was by far the most righteous and beautiful of the three new gods," the narrator crooned, and stooped low to leer at her backside. Amaterasu raised her fan to her face, whumphing the announcer without a lapse in grace, and the audience laughed.

The three new gods greeted the world of men -the audience- each with kabuki flourishes that reflected their personalities. He thought Amaterasu made eye contact with him from behind her fan.

"Hm." Kisame smiled slightly and his pupils slid to Itachi.

Itachi sipped his tea. "We might be the most interesting thing that blew into this town in a week."

"You should talk with her."

"I'm not good at flirting."

Kisame snorted. "Just like your knowledge of religion."

"I'm not being modest. I haven't spoken with a girl my age in years. In this town, I'm just a merchant."

"A kind, handsome one."

Itachi was struck that Kisame had called him 'kind.' He did not think Kisame would evaluate someone with that category. Not knowing how to take the compliment, Itachi stared back at the stage. Amaterasu and Susanoo competed over who was a stronger god. Amaterasu had just turned Susanoo's sword into five human beings, versus Susanoo's ability to spring only three from her necklace.

Their low table quaked. Kisame had plunged his cup down so hard and fast that his drink sloshed over the rim. His wide nose wrinkled and the stare Itachi met was battle-urgent.

"There's blood, buckets of it, enough to drain ten men."

Itachi forced his shoulders to relax. They must not act or show awareness of this yet. His eyes scanned the crowd as a cheering arose and the taiko drums beat an excited sinister trot into the space between his ribs. A column of fifteen men and boys carved a path like a wild river through the parade grounds, a coarse wooden platform undulating on the men's shoulders. Atop it glistened a bleeding heap of fresh red muscles and white fascia. It was a dead, skinned, horse.

Kisame squinted. "What the hell?"

"The crimes of Susanoo. Upset with his sister, he flayed the skin off Amaterasu's horse," Itachi explained. He also noted that in these conditions, Kisame could not differentiate human from animal blood.

Susanoo charmingly presented Amaterasu the horse carcass from the audience. Amaterasu strode off the stage in grief and anger, her silken white-red sleeves snapping, and the stage darkened with the egress of the dawn goddess, plunging the realm of men into darkness. Susanoo smirked and laughed, and the loping demons in fur-rimed masks began to howl. String instruments climaxed crescendo and fell, marking the end of the play's chapter. The audience gasped and clapped. The festival night was now without the Sun's guidance, and any kind of crookedness could occur before dawn returned.

The men heaped the horse onto a pyre, and a chunin lit it with a fire jutsu, enflaming a birchwood pile which was small enough that the meat might be cooked rather than carbonized. The village had a dark interpretation of their worship: Itachi thought that the goddess Amaterasu would not appreciate the flaying of another horse in her name. But the villagers seemed to like it.

"The Leaders of the Mist would consider this barbaric," Kisame said, his sly eyes smiling behind his cup.

Itachi matched Kisame's sentiment. No, the great ninja villages did not sacrifice simple horses to gods of sun, but sacrificed men and souls to gods of war. Gods they hailed each time they smithed a kunai, and who licked their lips at each newborn baby.

The next performance started, some students playing taiko drums. It was a banal sight compared to the play. Itachi ate his dango and drank his tea, listened to the music, and watched thick smoke rise from the pyre.

A gang of the village's teens stood by the pyre, the actress for Amaterasu among them. She had removed the headdress and white facepaint, but she still wore Amaterasu's red and white wake-sleeved furisode. One of the group looked at him and Kisame and giggled, as if discussing a dare. Then Amaterasu looked at the two travelers and grabbed a tray. He realized with a start that she was coming towards them. Kisame, who smelled caste like he smelled blood, tugged Itachi's robe, telling him that this is when merchants stood.

She dipped her head in greeting. "Excuse me sirs, my name is Taika Hato. I'm priestess at our temple and actress at the theater. We noticed you're not from around here. Would you like some horse flesh?"

Itachi blinked: the sun goddess Amaterasu had just offered him to eat her horse. He stumbled out a yes.

"And you, sir?"

"Please give me the shoulder, Miss Hato."

"Sure. May I ask your names?"

'Itachi' meant weasel. Weasels were small, ambitious, mean, and hungry. His parents' birth judgement had been imperfect: Itachi had become a man who was calm, sharp, and observant.

"I am Karasu. And this is my companion, Mekajiki. It's very good to meet you, and thank you for the food." Itachi bowed his head and gave himself a name meaning crow, and swordfish for Kisame.

"You're welcome! How was the show?"

"Your performance was stirring. I only hope your next act is soon: if I remember, demons terrorize everyone on earth until Amaterasu comes back," he said, trying his best to exude friendliness, but he had not spoken to anyone he considered a friend in years. He sat down, and with a gesture to the empty space, he invited Hato to join them if she wanted. He noticed Kisame's chin dip near-imperceptibly in approval of his manners.

"You know your religion," she said, taking a seat. "Stick around tomorrow at seven to see me kick Susanoo's butt. What brings you two here?"

"You mean, you can't tell by our dress?" Itachi asked.

"It is odd," she agreed.

Itachi smiled. "We're charcoal burners."

"So you...?"

"We fell trees, burn the logs in an earthen kiln using fire and water style, and then travel from village to village selling the charcoal. Smiths burn it to keep their forges at the correct temperature. It's also used in cooking, fertilizer, detergent, explosives, traditional medicine- even cosmetics. We've got a wagon full of it down the road."

Her look between the two men deduced Itachi was the fire user. "How good is your fire style?"

"Just the basics," he said modestly.

Hato's eyes changed from simply friendly to that of intrigue, and her expression became appraising and hopeful. "For the last act, the village guards cast fire jutsus as tributes to Amaterasu. You should join them."

"I couldn't possibly intrude on your ceremony as an outsider."

"When it comes to this ceremony, I am the authority. Plus, gifts from strangers mean more than gifts from friends, we say."

Itachi nodded. He would make an offering of flame to Amaterasu. And the girl, her representative, smiled with her eyes. "Thank you, Karasu! They'll love it."

Kisame stretched, looked at the two youths, and stood to leave. His gaze alerted Itachi not to expect his return. "I'm going to… get some more sake."

"You don't want to watch your friend perform?" Hato asked.

Kisame grinned and waved. "He's not so impressive."

Hato led Itachi backstage to meet the village's top military brass: a gaggle of four men spanning years fifteen to thirty who passed a ceramic bottle between them. The root-chewing gatekeeper was youngest among them. Hato was received warmly by the soldiers. She introduced Itachi as a pious charcoal merchant, and he was quickly ignored by the men.

For this dangerous and final act of the night, the stage had been stripped bare of its curtains and paper lanterns, and strapping men spilled buckets of water across the hardwood stage. A grinning bucket-spiller splashed the remaining water dregs onto the squealing children in the front row. From the backstage tent, Itachi watched the first four performers submit their offerings, each casting the biggest sun he could into the night sky in honor of Amaterasu. The crowd shrieked and laughed, fire reflecting on their wide scleras. Stepping forward for his turn, Itachi decided he would create a fireball that was the third largest- no need to upstage the locals.

Itachi mounted the stage as the penultimate performer left. His eye caught on Hato staring at him encouragingly, she flashed a thumbs-up, and he was bolstered with a better idea. Halting just one step onto the stage, Itachi faced profile, and his chest swelled like a bird. He blew, and his fire bloomed a deep ferrous red sparking with trace elements, and the chakra fireball sprinted across the stage in the shape of a stallion. Mane flaring, embers sparking from its light hooves, the fleet, shrieking horse appeared and faded in a vacuum roar. He returned backstage to raucous applause. When the soldiers' mouths gaped wide enough to catch frogs, a quiet grin cut Itachi's lips.

It hadn't been larger than yours, he thought.

Hato linked arms with him and led him through the festival crowds. She would introduce him to people and he would forget their names. Villagers welcomed him like a hero and plied him with sake. A kind old lady handed him a skewer with cubes of horseflesh. Any friend of Amaterasu was a friend of theirs. He was happy. Kisame was gone, the mission was something for tomorrow, Hato was a nice girl, and he could pretend to be normal for a night. Her attention made him feel pleasantly male, that he wasn't strange, isolated, murderous or evil.

She had showed him around the small town and they found themselves walking along the cold, white-graveled shores of the glacier lake. The gentle summer alpine night glowed cobalt blue, lightened by a huge low moon, whose coolness was relieving compared to the warm and dark frenzy of the blood festival.

"Actress and priestess," Itachi said as they strolled. "One's devout, and old people would say the other is sinful. I haven't met a person who's been both."

She smiled. "Each coin has two sides, and the same goes for you. Where'd a merchant learn ninjutsu like that?"

"The road is dangerous… and," he whispered like sharing a secret, "Sometimes really boring."

"Hah! Can't be less interesting than here."

"Did you know, that was a curse you'd tell your enemies in the old days? 'May you live in interesting times'?"

"Sounds menacing when you say it. Can you do other ninja tricks?"

In a heartbeat, he threw three kunai in a perfect line along a slender birch, each resonating a deep thunk that merged into one. A white and gold moth fluttered impaled on the center knife. She gasped.

But when he looked back at her, her face seemed uncomfortable. The throw was well above chunin level, above most jounin. Itachi knew he should not be careless in his desire to impress her by throwing beyond the abilities of a merchant. But somehow, the throw had not pleased her.

"Is something wrong, Hato?"

"What I liked about your fire jutsu wasn't its killing power; it wasn't a weapon, it was art."

"Art..."

"It's like how you and Mekajiki use fire and water style to make charcoal. Your fire style painted Amaterasu's horse, and it was beautiful. Performance is art, and it makes people happy."

Itachi regurgitated what he knew of art. "Do you think art is a single rapturous instant, or eternal?"

"Weird question. Art isn't a period of time, but a place. It transports you somewhere you've never been before, to some feeling you've never felt before"

"Hm," Itachi pondered. He thought that was a better philosophy than that of either Deidara or Sasori. He wondered how mad they would be if he answered like that, and decided he would next time they asked his opinion. Which would probably be never.

She smiled at him. "I've got a stupid dream. Wanna hear it?"

"I'd love to."

"I dream to lead a group someday that practices more peaceful uses to ninjutsu than war. Even if it was just a traveling circus of theater artists, and all we accomplished was making some villagers laugh."

"You've already got a talent for performance. The road is dangerous, but train and surround yourself with others like you, and only a fool would rob you."

She smiled sadly. "Dad wants me to marry a prince in the next village."

"Bring the prince along."

The actress said nothing and skipped a stone over the lake. It failed after two stops, and she made a noise of embarrassment. Itachi picked up a small flat stone and also skipped it badly. Ripples in the lake reflected the moonbeams like bobbing driftwood.

"It's late," Itachi said after a while.

"Do you have somewhere to stay?"

Itachi did not answer right away. She said, "Stay the night at my house."

Itachi bowed. "That's very generous of you. I would be happy to stay overnight in your stable, and my partner as well, if possible."

There was a sly shift of her eyes, lids heavy around her big, black pupils. "I think he'll have found an inn by now. But that shouldn't stop you."

Hato escorted him across flagstones that shone silver in the moonlight. Carrying their shoes, opening a sliding door with the utmost care, the two tiptoeing teens entered her sub-clan's complex and slipped into her bedroom.

Itachi set his shoes along the wall, wondering to what extent he should undress himself. When he turned around, Hato had knelt on her white futon. With her eyes trained at him, she slowly loosened the belt of her furisode to bare her chest. Itachi did the same. He reached to kiss her, she kissed him back. He shed the rest of his clothes, then did the same for her. He leaned into her. This is what people did.

He shuddered at the unfamiliarity when her weak hands touched his neck, they were warm and soft, hot as death-blood. He banished the rising memories, memories from the last time he did this, no, from the last time he thought he did this with Izumi that terrible night. Their bodies fit together like hot white ivory, and like smoke and steam, a very un-normal man tried his best to do this very normal thing.

Author's Note;

Heyo, thanks for supporting this fic. I plan to post Chapter 4 around Friday Nov 23. This will be a long dramatic fic with probably about 10-15 chapters this length, and I have a lot of progress made already.

Let me know your thoughts. And thanks of course to thanks again to beta myochiikurin!

Steadfast,

Kelto

Follow on FF or Ao3

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13409132/1/Campfires

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21019778/chapters/49992863

[shadows-echoes]

The Logic of Emotion - Pt. 4

Pairing: Connor RK800 x fem!reader

Summary:  Connor’s just trying to complete his mission but he keeps running into the emotional roadblocks of those around him. You’ve been assigned to the deviancy investigation along with Hank and Connor, but you’re starting to ask questions no one seems interested in listening to. The investigation becomes more difficult for everyone involved as it progresses, and for vastly different reasons.

Warnings: Swearing.

Word Count: 3.4k

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 5 // Part 6 // Part 7 // Part 8 // Masterlist

As much as Connor might vehemently try to deny it, he was edging towards that seemingly inevitable cliff of deviancy. There had been moments, snapshots in the past where he had demonstrated unadulterated humanity- likely without realizing it. Only tonight had been different. Tonight, Connor had made a distinct, conscious choice knowing full well of the repercussions it might create.

Tonight, the deviant hunter had let two deviants go free.

After a long investigation, some rather hilarious charges to Hank’s credit card, and a drawn-out fight, Connor had allowed two deviant Traci models -ones who had killed someone through self-defense- run. 

Connor had them at gunpoint and trapped. 

And then he lowered his weapon.

The girls were gone in an instant. 

Connor had stared after them, half shocked at himself, at what he had done, but he didn’t seem to regret it. Confusion and worry had filled you as you eyed Connor with apprehension. Hank, on the other hand, merely shrugged off the whole situation and made light of it.

At least, that’s what Hank had done before he brought booze into the equation.

He’d driven out to some park and perched himself on top of a bench, a bottle of something alcoholic in hand.

Now you stood with the river behind you and an icy railing digging into your back, a few meters from the bench Hank sat atop while Connor paced between you. Your arms were folded across your chest in testament to both your mood and in a feeble attempt to conserve some heat against the freezing wind and light snowfall.

Slowly, your mind was dragged back to reality, your eyes pulling up from the white, sparkling ground to land on Connor.

“We’re not making any progress on this investigation,” Connor states with some degree of frustration, crossing his arms over his chest. “They’re all different models, produced at different times, in different places…”

“Well, there must be some link,” Hank supplies, oh so insightfully.

Withholding something between a huff and a sigh, you forcibly unclench your jaw. “There’s a link.”

The speed with which Connor stops pacing and snaps his whole body towards you is nearly amusing. “What is it?”

Your lips purse as you glance between the android designed to hunt deviants and your lieutenant. How did neither of them see it? Were they both so wrapped up in the mechanics of the investigation to notice? Too blinded by the dichotomy between humans and androids to see what was right in front of them? How could they look directly at the causes of deviancy you had so far encountered, recorded, and substantiated, and then directly overlook what was staring them in the face? The most obvious answer? The simplest one?

“Each deviant we’ve seen has been abused, forced to endure something they didn’t want to experience, forced to comply to some program they didn’t want to adhere to, or all of the above,” you point out flatly. “They were denied free will.”

Connor stares at you, his blue LED flickering as examines your hypothesis. “Many deviants do show signs of PTSD and trauma,” he concedes, “but why would only certain androids be affected? Not all androids who show those signs deviate.”

“Human error,” you inform with a shrug. “Or- android error, I guess. Inevitable variables? There’s only so much of that shit a person can take before they finally snap.” 

Well, it was that or…

“Or?”

You blink back at his intrigued, awaiting expression.

You hadn’t meant to say that part out loud.

Or.

Or the androids were rigged to become deviant. 

It was the only other possibility, and yet it made you sound like a crackpot theorist in need of a tinfoil hat. Why Cyberlife would want their “products” to go rogue, you hadn’t the faintest idea. But if it wasn’t actually a virus then it had to be something already in their code which led to two possibilities. The first was that Cyberlife overlooked a big fat variable in the programming of hundreds of models over the last few months. Unlikely. The second option was that Cyberlife intentionally incorporated a possibility of deviation in their androids. Equally as unlikely but it would explain most of the existing questions -while adding a whole bunch of new ones-. 

Ugh. It felt like all you could get your hands on through this investigation was one-fourth of a giant puzzle with no side-pieces. You knew there was more to all of this just as you knew it was out of reach. It was maddening.

“Those two girls,” Hank comments, sounding deep in thought, his eyes looking somewhere far away. “They just wanted to be together. They really seemed... in love.”

Being forced into prostitution is evil enough. Being forced into it and having to sit idly by when the person you love is assaulted? Half of you wished the deviants had given that man a slower death- the other half was just surprised they hadn’t burned the Eden Club straight to the ground.

“You seem troubled, Lieutenant,” Connor observes. “I didn’t think machines could have such an effect on you.”

Hank takes a long swig of his drink before setting it down on the bench and strolling up to Connor with a gleam in his eyes.

“What about you?” Hank asks, staring Connor down. “You look human, you sound human, but what are you really?”

“I’m whatever you want me to be, Lieutenant,” Connor replies diplomatically. “Your partner, your buddy to drink with, or just a machine designed to accomplish a task.”

“You could have shot those two girls but you didn’t. Why didn’t you shoot, Connor?” Hank pushes- and punctuates the question with a heavy shove to Connor’s shoulder, sending the android stumbling backwards. “Hm? Some scruple suddenly enter into your program?”

Pushing off the railing, you slowly approach to stand by Connor’s side. You knew that somewhere, deep, deep -like Marianas Trench deep- down, Hank has a good heart. But even on a good day, the man had some issues. Today was not a good day. With the amount of alcohol he’d consumed in such a short time in combination with his mood, you were unsure how unpredictable he could get.

As genuinely curious as you were about Connor’s reasoning, there were better ways of accessing that information than through… whatever the hell Hank was doing.

“No. I just decided not to shoot,” Connor explains, hints of defensiveness coloring his tone. “That’s all.”

It’s not the most informative of answers. Quite honestly, on any other occasion you would have loved to talk to Connor about it, to understand, to determine where he stood and how his mind worked. 

But tonight was not any other occasion.

Hank’s hand darts behind his back and, before you could blink, he pulls out his gun, aiming it squarely at Connor’s forehead.

You’re moving before you think about it. Moving to knock the gun out of Hank’s hand, to grab it, to stand in front of Connor, to something-

But you don’t get the chance.

Without looking, without taking his eyes off of Hank, Connor’s arm shoots out in front of you, keeping you half a foot behind him. Your eyes drop from the dark gun shining under the streetlights, to the hand steadily hovering over your abdomen, then up to the face it’s paired with.

Snowflakes lightly dusted Connor’s dark hair and jacket, blew across the face that was pointedly ignoring your incredulity and shock.

Hank, ever the detective, fails to miss Connor’s actions as well. With narrowed eyes and a tilt to his head, he glances between the hand, your face, and Connor’s.

The river at your back sounded louder than before.

“Hank, what the fuck are you doing?” you bark, recovering from your gaping long enough to give him a wide-eyed glare.

“I could kill him and he’d just come back as if nothing happened,” Hank states begrudgingly. From the emotion in his voice, he could’ve just as easily been remarking on the weather conditions. “But are you afraid to die, Connor?”

To Connor’s credit, he appears incredibly calm with having a gun shoved in his face, as cool as a cucumber. If his posture was anything to go by, he could have been giving some speech about national security. His head was held high enough, and his shoulders were straight and pushed back, but his facial expressions betrayed him- if only by miniscule degrees.

“I would certainly find it… regrettable to be interrupted before I can finish this investigation,” he admits.

Wholly unimpressed, Hank inches the barrel of the gun closer to Connor’s forehead. “What will happen if I pull this trigger? Hm?”

“For starters, you’ll get a black eye and you’ll lose your gun,” you snap, bristling.

Hank rolls his eyes. “Nothing?” he prods. “Oblivion? Android heaven?”

“I doubt there’s a heaven for android’s,” Connor notes.

Something between a grin and a sneer crosses Hank’s expression. “Having existential doubts, Connor? Sure you’re not a-”

You jump forwards in a quick gamble and manage to pry the gun out of Hank’s hand by twisting his wrist and arm before he even notices you moving. He gives an indignant bark of surprise, but Hank puts up less resistance than you’d imagined he would. He probably only pulled the gun to get a reaction in the first place, you knew. Well, goddamn, he was certainly going to get one- even if it wasn’t from who he intended.

“You want to get drunk every night-” you fume, indignantly pointing the handle of the gun at Hank’s chest in lieu of an accusatory finger, “-that’s your business! You want to talk about existentialism and the meaninglessness of life?! I’m game. But what you don’t fucking do is pull your gun on people!”

“People?” Hank quotes, matching your raised volume and arching a cynical eyebrow. “Connor’s an android, Y/N! Or have you somehow managed to forget-”

“Does it look like I fucking care what he is?” you loudly interrupt, far from being done. “Did I not just mention that one of the triggers to deviancy seems to-”

“I am not a deviant.”

“-be assholes? Have you been so spitefully disinterested for this entire investigation that you’ve missed the blatantly obvious fact that androids- deviants- are more than they appear? And, frankly, I don’t care if Connor was some lagging computer from the nineties with only internet explorer, you don’t pull your gun unless there’s a threat! Certainly not because you’re having a temper tantrum and trying to make a point!”

Snapping your jaw shut, you clench your teeth together in a dull effort to prevent yourself from saying anything you’d later regret. Your glaring eyes are still locked on Hank, however.

He stares at back you, gaping, the umbrage and anger in his eyes mixing with the slightest hints of fear and shock. Hank had no idea how to respond; you did not have outbursts. It was practically a known fact around the station: you always kept a level head. Sure, you got angry occasionally, perhaps furious on a few bad cases, but you always managed to keep your shit together, always remained outwardly stable enough to get the job done. 

You, on the other hand, did not understand how Hank –or half the goddamn population for that matter- could be so blind. There had been a few instances when you were younger in which you had treated androids as commodities, but much to your own chagrin you’d felt horrible after each time. There was simply too much empathy in you. It took effort to be rude to others, so why bother when you were so naturally inclined to do the opposite anyway? Besides, why the fuck should anyone be hateful just because they have the option?

Even so, your investigation into deviancy had opened your eyes to a whole new extent. Androids- deviants had emotions. Or, they thought they had emotions. And with reality being as subjective as it is, “thought” was more than enough for you.

They could love. They could hate. And they wanted free will.

It was enough.

The silence dragged on. When Hank did not, or could not, immediately snap something back, you turn on your heels with something between an annoyed scoff and an indignant huff and march away. A part of you wanted to stay, to try and make him see, to make sure he didn’t try anything stupid -again-, but you couldn’t.

“Hey!” Hank growls, belatedly calling after you once you’re halfway to the car parked beside his. “Give me back my gun!”

“Ask me after you’ve been sober for a week,” you hurl over your shoulder, a scowl twisting your lips.

He grunts something but you’re too far away to hear what it is or care. Ignoring it all the same, you climb into your old car and force your nails to stop digging painfully into your palms.

Damn him.

Maybe androids were just machines. Maybe you were delusional in your empathy. Maybe you were making a fool of yourself. Maybe you were risking your job and reputation and prison for nothing.

But maybe you weren’t. And that possibility was enough to maintain your conviction.

As you turn the keys in the ignition of your old, beat-up car, the passenger-side door opens and Connor peeks down at you. Answering the unvoiced question, you silently tell him to get in with a small jerk of your head. On the few occasions the three of you used two cars, Connor would, more often than not, ride with you since you didn’t actively hold any serious disdain for him since the beginning. Sure, there were a few times you’d wanted to rip him a new one -mostly, and practically only, after he left you to fall- but you never thought about actually blowing his brains out.

Hank had probably told him to get lost. Or Connor didn’t feel like hanging around in the darkened, snow-covered playground with Hank. Either way, Connor got in the car and you started driving as soon as his door closed.

You drove in heavy silence, slowly easing the tension out of your body. You almost succeed, too.

“Lieutenant Anderson was right, you know,” Connor tentatively volunteers. “Even if he had shot me, I would have come back.”

Hands tightening around the steering wheel, you glare out the windshield. “That’s not the point,” you grind out bitterly. “And even if you did come back, I still would’ve had to watch you die in the first place.”

And you had done that once already, after an interrogation gone wrong. You were in no hurry to do it again, certainly not now that… now that you’d consider Connor a friend. It just wasn’t something you were eager to witness.

The next four blocks are spent driving in silence.

“Emotions are a complication,” Connor observes. 

Surprisingly, it sounded less like a reminder and more of a statement of contemplation.

An unamused laugh threatens to pass your lips.“Listen, I’m, like, the last person who’d vouch for emotions because you’re right, they are complications and half the time they suck. But there is…” you trail off, trying to find the right words. “Sometimes there is logic in having emotions. Without them, you’re just… objective.”

A machine.

Connor glances at you intently, his brows ever so slightly furrowed. “And you think objectivity is a bad thing?”

“I think it can be a great thing,” you admit, “but a lot of morality is derived from empathy. Emotions can help draw the line between right and wrong. I mean, they’re just as likely to drive someone from one to the other, but… they’re important.”

When Connor doesn’t retort, you sneak a peek at him. He was sitting normally -that is to say, not ramrod straight-, almost at ease, but as he eyed the passing lights, you got the impression he wasn’t really seeing them.

In the window, there was a faint reflection of a flickering yellow circle.

-

“Would you give me my gun back, already?” Hank not-so-kindly asks from his seat across from your desk.

It was a question you’d been waiting for all morning. The only two things that surprised you was the fact that Hank had actually shown up on time this morning -not sometime around lunch- and that he’d waited for so long before asking for it. A time which conveniently coincided with Connor’s trip to the evidence room.

With no small amount of dragging reluctance, you pull the weapon from the top drawer of your desk and slide it across the surface of your desk and onto his. Appeased, Hank picks up the gun- only to shoot you an exceptionally exasperated look.

He doesn’t say a word, just clenches his jaw and holds out an expectant hand.

“Hey, had you not noticed then you really shouldn’t have this,” you defend in an equally flat tone as you hand over the corresponding magazine. Okay, so maybe you weren’t entirely over what happened last night.

Hank snatches the magazine from your outstretched hand and loads it into the gun, giving it a quick look over for further tampering. “I might be slightly hungover but I’m not stupid,” he retorts.

“Can you blame me for checking?” you ask, biting back a small grin.

“Oh, screw you,” he scoffs. As unamused by the cheap jab as may have been, the comment held no real weight, no true ire. The light, as-per-usual banter managed to pull a corner of your lips upwards ever so slightly.

At least some things never change.

Not wanting to push your luck at this particular moment with this particular situation, you leave the conversation as is and turn back to your screen to continue reading. Still convinced that the link between deviants and what caused them was a lack of free choice paired with being pushed over that metaphorical edge -and some questionable programming by Cyberlife-, you’d been going over all the old files. Most of them you had read already, but there could be-

“You really care about him, don’t you?”

Slowly, your eyes shift from the screen to the man across from you. Hank was leaning back in his chair, a considering look on his face as he carefully observed you- despite the fact both of you knew it wasn’t a question he had vocalized, but a statement.

“Don’t mistake moral decency for care,” you state evenly, keeping your expression as much of a blank mask as Hank’s.

Where was he going with this? Why?

Hank hums, unimpressed and steadfast in the face of your answer. Seemingly content to wait you out, a game you had no intention of participating in, you turn back to your screen and ignore him.

“He cares about you too, you know,” Hank points out. It’s said like it was something obvious, something you should have noticed for yourself by now- but you can feel his stare and the words sound too much like bait for you to do anything but keep reading.

“He says he’s not deviant,” you remind, shrugging.

There’s the faintest of scoffs from across your desk, then, “but we both know he’s changed.”

That does manage to snag your attention. Pausing, you look up at Hank, at his plain expression and the small amount of worry right beneath the surface. Despite his actions the night before and his initial reaction to Connor, you knew Hank had grown fond of him. You both had.

“He’s adamant about completing his mission,” you note carefully, “but yeah.”

Connor had certainly evolved from being the cookie-cutter style android sent by Cyberlife that he had been when you first met. However, he was also far from being a deviant too. He would have to defy orders and programming, ignore or stop the self-scans he does every so often for that to happen.

Neither you nor Hank had apologized for your behavior the night before; both of you could have done things differently. But looking at him now, the two of you seemed to come to some sort of silent agreement: to look out for the android should he ever cross that big red line into foreign, half-hostile territory. Into deviancy.

-

A/N: I’ve passed over some scenes (e.g. the Eden Club, interrogations) because I think everyone has seen/played the game by now. While these scenes would be a lot of fun to write, we all know them already and they don’t necessarily add too much to this story so I’ve left out their details. But I’m posting these parts for you guys! So what do you think? Should I keep to the gameplay and write more of the scripted scenes or should this storyline deviate a small bit ;) ? Let me know what you think!

Again, thank you all for the support and comments. You guys rock! <3

Tags: @aya-fay @mamamemequeen @layinglonely @robin-rokossovsky  @simplysaying @superanonymousreader @aririna1412 @marinettelafayette @purpstraw @tinycyberhacker @lunarlexycon @littlemsrantsalot  @bibbo-boggerns @lost-and-found-jc @avispate @audiblehush @grievance-s @i-resent-this-hellsite @kylobien @fuckthatfeeling @fandomfreakgod 

[taylorsmiththeauthor]

An Empath, A Psychic, & A Human; first chapter

I’ve decided to take some advice from the tumblr writing community and build my empire, so to speak. So here is my first post about writing, despite the fact that I’ve been on this website for over a year lol. Feel free to check out my wattpad, @Real_Taylor_Smith. I’ve also just put up instagram where I’ll be posting news, extra content, and excerpts as well as here! It’s @real.tay.smith and soon I’ll have a website up. A little heads up, this story has a fair amount of foul language, so be warned. Until then, happy reading!

HUMAN

The air in the truck was tense.

No one had really been sure of what we were supposed to fight. The best that had been offered to us were a few blurry pictures of a massive scaly beast with wings, and audio of a terrible scream that seemed to come from the beast. The world quickly claimed that a dragon had somehow come to be – and we were supposed to fight it.

I glanced around me at the faces. They were all of my friends who had signed up to be in reserves, which was part-time military. We all had our reasons; money, benefits, looking good on applications, or whatever. We wanted to serve from the comfort of our homeland, not fight dragons in downtown Toronto, the biggest city in Canada and seventh most populated in the continent.

I took out a picture I always kept in my pocket near my heart; a photo of my girlfriend. It was one of my favourite photos of her, because it captured her almost completely. She was standing on top of a crazy old Mayan ruin, overlooking an ancient plaza, the jungle, and a large river. She grinned at the camera, hands on her hips, smile lines crinkled around her blue eyes, blonde hair escaping from her bun pinned back with a hairpin made by locals. She looked incredibly happy and in awe of the place she was standing on. That had been taken about two years ago on her last March break trip of high school when she went to Belize with the school. I liked to carry the photo in my uniform, remember that she was waiting for me back home.

“Alright pansies, listen up!”

The sharp command from our sergeant had me scrambling to put the photo away as he stood up and handed out new pictures.

“Now I can’t say that I’ve ever fought dragons before, nor have I been taught the protocol, so I don’t really know what to do. But that’s fine because there is one thing I do know – it is our duty to keep this place safe. Toronto has yet to be fully evacuated and the beast is not contained. We still have no idea where the hell it came from or what the hell it is, but we gotta stop it.”

A photo came around to me and I looked at it, my heart plunging into my feet. The thing gripped the top of the CN Tower, green leathery wings spread wide, head open in a snarl, mouth full of jagged teeth. The thing looked huge, at least the size of a T-Rex. I passed the picture.

“Because we have no idea where this fucker is going to go, we’ve set up a perimeter along the Harbour Front, Bloor St, Bathurst, and Don Valley. We’ve got about fifty platoons stationed around to stop wherever this thing decides to go. We’ll be down on King, by the Princess of Wales Theatre. We’ll be there soon so start your praying, because we’ve got a one in fifty chance of being stuck with this beast.”

I looked over to my left and met eyes with one of my oldest friends, Donovan. He, another friend of ours, and myself all joined together. The other friend, Kaiah, was exceedingly lucky as her family had all gone to another city for a funeral. So, Donovan and I were about to face a dragon.

“What’re the odds it has a video-game weak spot?” Donovan asked quietly, “Like, a soft spot on its belly?”

I shrugged, “With your luck, no.”

“Don’t speak of my bad luck, because then we will have to face the damn thing.”

“Knock on wood I guess.”

“Everything near is us metal, so we’re all fucked then.”

We laughed quietly, the impending doom still very much a real threat. We talked for a little bit but soon fell silent and felt the seconds tick past. Far too soon, the sergeant stood up.

“File out in formation!”

We followed, hopping out of the truck and getting into two straight lines, facing east where the monster would be. To my left was the theatre, and I vaguely remembered going to see a play with Hazel. The Curious Incident of the Dog in The Nighttime, I think. Now, all the signs read Hamilton, which I knew Hazel had been dying to see. She said I would like it, but she felt bad because she had already promised Mackenzie she would take her because she was already a huge fan. I smiled, grateful for the memory.

However, I was violently ripped back to reality when I heard a screech. The videos didn’t capture it. Nothing could.

It was as if a T-Rex and a lion roared while someone scraped their nails against a chalkboard and it shook us to our core. I didn’t pray nor did I believe in a god, but I found myself asking that it wouldn’t be us, please let it not be us.

“And just what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

My back straightened automatically and I opened my mouth to make an explanation, but it wasn’t me the sergeant was talking to – two weird civilians had wandered into the area.

One of them was Hazel.

She wore a long white dress with bronze breastplates, shoulder pads, arm guards, and gladiator boots. Her dress was styled like an Ancient Greek chiton,  and the blonde hair piled up on her head sported a style from the same period. From her back sprouted a massive pair of dove wings, the feathers an opal-esque shade, shining dozens of colours, the edges of the wings covered in bronze. At her hip was a woven belt on which hung several drawstring pouches and a dagger.

The person beside her was dressed just as weirdly, but very differently. Their entire outfit was made of brown leather and bronze plates, and it kind of looked like a rogue from D&D. Like, 90% of the pants were extremely tall leather boots with straps and holsters for knives and other things. The top was a green tunic that went just above their elbows and brushed the top of the boots, under which seemed to be brown hide. They had a brown cloak on top with a hood, a green cloth pulled up over their nose, the same pine green as their eyes. They had a mask on their face seemed to be made of moss, covering the area around their eyes. Little flowers sprouted from it as well as small branches with blossoms out the top, making it look like they had antlers. From what little I could see of them, I could tell they had dark brown skin and a very thick afro. I had no clue whether it was a guy or a girl.

“We’re ordering you to evacuate the area,” Hazel said calmly, arms crossed and hip out to the side. That meant she didn’t want any fooling around.

“Except for you, there aren’t any civilians downtown.”

“As far as we’re concerned, you are civilians.”

“Hey, Crybaby, aren’t they militia?” The other asked.

Hazel looked at them and then at the platoon before turning back to her partner, “No, this is the reserve force, it’s part-time military. Civilians, technically.”

“Oh shit, right. Is that thing you were worried about…?”

“Yes.” Hazel spoke curtly and it seemed like she glanced at me, but it was so fast I couldn’t tell.

“We are official military,” the sergeant said angrily, “and you’re civilians! You need to leave immediately, or I will remove you by force, which I do not wish to do.”

“Just try it,” the partner scoffed, but Hazel shot them a look and they rolled their eyes, maintaining quiet.

“I apologize, but you are unfit to deal with this problem,” Hazel said cooly, “We are, however, very well-versed in dealing with wyverns.”

“And just what the fuck is a wyvern?” The sergeant spat.

“What you’re planning to fight,” the partner said, “and my pal here knows that it’s going to be coming this way, so you better get a fucking move on.”

“How in the hell do you know this?” The sergeant asked, seeming to be unsure.

“Classified.” They spoke in unison.

“So please just leave it to us and get your soldiers out of here,” Hazel said, seeming to be losing her patience.

“I can’t do that!” The sergeant was losing his too, “You’re just a couple of wackos who’ll get yourselves killed and land me in a world of trouble.”

“Quite the opposite, I assure you.” Hazel glared at the sergeant and her partner narrowed their eyes, which made him apprehensive.

“Who the fuck are these people?” Donovan asked beside me.

“You serious?” I said, turning to him, “That’s Hazel, I can’t tell who the other is though because of the mask.”

“What?” Donovan asked, looking at them, “How do you know it’s Hazel? She’s wearing a mask too. And what’s with the wings?”

I opened my mouth when another screech ripped through the air.

“You have three minutes before the wyvern gets here,” Hazel warned, danger in her tone, “So either you let us do our jobs or you die and make it a lot harder for us. But one thing is for sure, we will do what we need to do to take this thing down.”

The sergeant shifted, “Well just because you wear weird clothes and know what this is doesn’t mean that you can defeat it.”

“Look, man,” the partner spoke, “we can’t do anymore than is allowed for the situation so how about this – let me fight your best fighter. Whomever wins can kill the beast, old honour style.”

“That’s ridiculous,” the sergeant scoffed.

“Well, your attitude calls for it.”

“Appy,” Hazel warned, “be careful.”

“But you’ll ref, right?” The partner asked, “Fae rules and all?”

Hazel sighed, “Yes, I’ll ref.”

“Great. So good sir, get your best fighter.”

The sergeant scowled but turned to us, “Jackson! Front and centre!”

We all watched as Tyler Jackson, a big muscular prick of a guy, stepped forward with a grin. He was proud and self-centred, and by far the best fighter we had. He had yet to be beaten in hand-to-hand, even from the sergeant. The small person didn’t stand a chance.

“What’re the rules?” Tyler asked, “And do I get a prize?”

“If you lose, you live. If you win, you die with honour. Pick a blade.” The small person didn’t seem to give a shit that Tyler was twice their size.

Tyler grinned and pulled a knife from his pocket. He was deadly with it, and everyone had at least one scar from it.

“Let no blood be spilled,” Hazel said as she and the sergeant stepped back to give the pair space, “Appy, I’m serious.”

“You’re no fun,” the partner complained.

“Where’s your blade?” Tyler teased.

The partner, evidently called Appy for some reason, reached for a bronze armband on their upper arm and pulled it off, glowing as it extended into a massive broadsword. Appy grinned like a maniac and Tyler looked scared shitless.

“Appy,” Hazel warned.

Appy sighed and the sword shrank down to a dagger, “Just wanted to scare the guy,” they complained.

“Make it quick, let no blood be spilled, and may the winner have the honour of defeating the Wyvern. It hath been spoken, thus let it be.” Hazel raised her arms as she spoke, saying it like a chant. A heavy weight settled in, as if the words themselves really carried a spell.

As soon as Hazel finished speaking, Appy lunged for Tyler, but he saw it and dodged. Yet Appy was too fast. They caught him by the middle and flipped him over, causing the blade to fly from his hand. He made an oof as he hit the ground, the wind knocked from him. Appy sat on his chest and pinned his arms with one hand, the other holding a knife to his throat.

“One...two...three. And that’s match. We shall fight the wyvern,” Hazel announced, glancing at the street beyond them, “and just in time. You need to take your soldiers and leave, get as far away from here as possible. But if you see the wyvern, freeze – they like a moving target.”

“What the hell is that?” The sergeant barked, “There had to be some trick!”

“No, trick, I assure you,” Appy said as they got off of Tyler, turning their back to him, “I just guess that military training doesn’t match up to a Knight’s.”

Tyler was enraged, and it was obvious. He had never lost a fight, especially not to someone so weird and small. He snatched his blade from the ground and thrust up on his knees, aiming for Appy’s side.

Appy sidestepped easily and sliced their blade across Tyler’s arm, causing him to cry out in pain and drop his blade.

“That’s one angry dude,” Appy said as they slid their dagger, now an armband, back into place.

“I said no bloodshed,” Hazel huffed as she knelt down next to Tyler and pulled out a roll of gauze.

“The fight was over!” Appy argued, “Besides, he was wanting to give me a scar, everyone in this damn platoon has one from him. Thought I would return the favour.”

“God, you’re like a dumbass Batman villain,” Hazel complained to Tyler as she bandaged his wound, “With less honour than the Joker, you piece of shit.”

“How did you know I was thinking that?” Tyler asked, scared, “You psychic?”

“Term is telepathic,” Hazel said matter-of-factly, “I’m psychic, Appy’s an empath. Now that that’s cleared up, leave.”

The sergeant bristled at the last word as he had watched everything unfold.

“Just because you won one fight-”

“I’m sorry,” Appy snarled, suddenly rounding on the sergeant, pulling their blade out and holding it dangerously close to his face, “Do you not understand basic combat rules, let alone fae? I won, so you leave. You can’t break a deal, or the fae will fuck you up, if I don’t get to you first. Feel fear.”

At this, the sergeant scrambled back, visibly shaken and sweating.

“Appy!” Hazel scolded harshly, “Fear won’t help this, only make him worse. Besides, it’s too late now.”

“Too late?” Someone asked.

“Yeah,” Appy said coolly, “blame these two assholes.” Their head jutted towards the sergeant and Tyler, “If they had only let us do their jobs then y’all’ight’ve lived.”

“No one is going to die,” Hazel assured, taking the sergeant by the arm and picking Tyler up, leading them to where the rest of us were standing. She pushed Tyler off on someone and sharply told the sergeant; “Stay behind this line.” Then she produced a piece of blue chalk from her belt and drew a curved line in front of all of us, chanting quitely all the time. Once she finished, she bent down and kissed it, making the line glow a faint blue. A shimmering wall formed in front of us, Hazel standing on the other side. Then she turned to us, “Don’t move, don’t make a noise, only breathe if you need to. Disobeying any of these will get you and everyone else killed.”

“Crybaby, E.T.A.?” Appy called, a longsword suddenly in their hand as a shriek cut through the air.

“Five. Four. Three. Two. One.”

As soon as Hazel finished saying ‘one’, she pulled something from her pocket, watched by the wyvern as it rounded the corner.

“Oh, we are so fucked.”

[darkdevasofdestruction]

Hoshigaki Kisame

Name:Nami Yuriko Age:21

-Primary role:Medical nin -Secondary:Poison master/Assassin -Kekkei Genkai:Shuts off her vital systems,entering in a coma-like death state while in grave danger. -Iwagakure made her a rogue nin after choosing to save her team mates rather than finishing the mission. -Has fox traits -Best friend:Deidara

---------------------------------------------------

So,this was the end of my career as an Iwagakure ANBU captain.Damn me,with my empathy and compassion...I guess I just might not really be cut out for this Shinobi world.But it's fine.I can survive on my own too.I'm a Poison master and a survivor.Captain Nami on duty...

And I'm a Fox,for Kami's sake.A medical fox.I should be fine on my own.I hope...

~~ Day 5 --

Dear diary. What the fuck have I been doing?Did I really think it'll be okay to stay by myself in a forest,when the Tsuchikage apparently ordered my demise? Godamn you,traitor... Well,I have to run for my life.Ja ne~

--

----

This past months I've been getting along quite well with the guys,especially with Deidara,Kisame and Itachi. Missions were easy peasy lemon squeezy,and as for my medical ninjutsu?Nothing big came up.These guys are pros,after all. That was,until this next mission... Leader-sama paired me up with Kisame to go to the Land of Water to find some important feudal people and assassinate them. Easy enough,right?

Wrong.

-

It's great that Kisame is in his element,having the ground advantage,so it didn't matter me being unfamiliar with these places.And it's great that the Shinobi Village of Kirigakure and the Feudal lords have nothing to o with each other,so they can't really interfere. Assassinating them was piece of cake.Kisame was the tank,staying in front,fighting them effortlessly,while I stayed in the trees,shooting poison needles at them. We make quite a great team,right! As we made our escape,we were cornered by countless Kirigakure ANBU and surprisingly,even the Yondaime Mizukage,Yagura the Sanbi Jinchuriki was here. Well...we're screwed. Kisame even had to transform in his Shark form,but again,since I wasn't stealthed and couldn't go into hiding to start throwing the poison needles,it was difficult for me to fight properly.I'm not strong at taijutsu...but I guess I could work something out. I started punching the ones approaching me,sending them into trees.Maybe they didn't die,but they surely won't wake up too soon.Slice and dice,slice and dice,throw kunais,stab with needles,Kisame is quite exhausted as well,Yagura is in his Version 2,being able to control Isobu the Sanbi Bijuu.Well,that's remarkable,I agree,but NOT IN THIS SITUATION! Okay,Kisame is gravely wounded and Samehada was thrown away. I ran to it,use the Teleportation Jutsu on it,putting it in my utility scroll,despite it attacking me for not being his rightful owner,and summon 15 shadow clones,making them blow themselves up with the explosives bombs that Deidara gave me,in case of danger.Guess he was right,for once. And I might not be too strong ,but in the confusion and smoke,I managed to punch away the Mizukage and drag Kisame away from the battle,leaving the Land of Water for good.But he was unconscious and fatally wounded,so I had to retort to my medical ninjutsu right away. I made a small table to put him on it,grabbed my utility scroll,to get the instruments,and started the operation.It requires a shit ton of chakra,but I will be fine.I have to be,so I can save him. Increase cellular regeneration,use the scalpel,send regular waves of chakra to his chakra points and nervous system,make sure his heart beats regularly,take the poison out of his system,purify the blood,treat the major gashes,check for any possible internal or external hemorrhage,any possible organ alteration or injury,treat the minor scars and bruises,hydrate him as much as possible.I hope taking in account that he has both mammal and fish characteristics was the good thing to do. Gosh...I'm drained of my chakra...this was a lot to do...hours of procedures and tons of chakra drained...but he is waking up.He will be okay... I got the food and water containers from my utility scroll and help him eat and drink a bit. Kisame:What happened? me:Dont force yourself to talk.It might strain the muscles... Kisame:I am fine,thank you,Nami-san. me:Well...they might be strong,but they aren't too smart... Kisame:You got us away from them? me:Yeah...for a while...I guess using countless of confusing decoys really paid off. Kisame:You're a smart fox.Thank you for saving me. me:Any time. Kisame:W-wait a secon...my...my Samehada...I lost it on the battleground...it was taken by them... me:Don't worry,Kisame.I have it.I will give it back when we get to the HQ,okay?Until then,can you walk? Kisame:Thank you,Nami.I owe you. me:Nah,don't fret.I care about you.You are my friend.I would never leave a friend die. Kisame:You really have a precious heart... me:*chuckles*So I've been told... I helped him get up,and surprisingly,he is strong enough,despite just having recovered.He truly has an amazing body... On the other hand,the lack of chakra was taking its toll on me,and while I was trying to walk,I could only hear a faint voice,see black,and lose consciousness,as I hit the hard ground.

---

-?-:She will be fine.She just overused her chakra,that's all.Rest will help her recover. Kakuzu...? -?-:Why didn't you take care of her,um?! Deidara...! -?-:Because...she took care of me... Kisa...me...?! Dei:What do you mean? Kisame:We were ambushed by the ANBU and the Mizukage himself.You know very well she isn't as skilled in close range combat.She is a stealth specialist,while I'm the only one with sword and combat skills. Kakuzu:He is right.There is nobody to blame.No one could expect the Mizukage himself to attack. Kisame:I am sorry,Deidara.I did not mean for Nami to get hurt.. Dei:*sighs* Yeah,I know,I know,sorry.I just hate seeing her like this. Kakuzu:She wasn't hurt,she just overused her chakra.No big deal.Let her rest for now. Dei:Fine... After hearing the door shut,I felt my hand being taken in someone else's,and then a sigh.It was Kisame. Kisame:I doubt you can hear me,but I just want to apologize for not being strong enough,and for having to look after me,even while your life was being endangered.I have to become much....much stronger to be able to look after you...to protect you fro harm's way.And that is just what I will do...everyday....every night...because...Nami...I...care for you.I...never would have imagined that...someone like me...a...monster...like me...could ever deserve such love and compassion from an angel like you.Never has it crossed my mind that I will have someone as perfect as you take care of me,an even risk her own life,for my worthless one.I believed,my whole life,to be a heartless killing machine,capable of no warm emotions.But after all,every Yin has its Yang...and I...Nami...I...love you.And I swear to protect you with everything I have,from now on. And with that,he kissed my hand and left the room quietly.Oh,Kisame...if only I would have been more aware of your real feeling for me,I'd have told you before of my own feelings.

--

A week later,at night,I saw that Kisame hasn't come to dinner.Or any meal today,for what matters. With a sigh,I excused myself and got the dish,going out to bring Kisame some food.He needs a lot of nutriments for his metabolism.He is a big guy,after all. He was outside,training in the rain. me:Bet you love this kind of weather.But that doesn't mean you shouldn't eat the whole day. Kisame:I am quite busy,I apologize.I must- me:Train more.Yeah,I know.But I also know that you must eat as well,in order to get strong. Kisame:I am fine.Please,do not disturb my training. me:I am a medical nin,don't go against my knowledge. Kisame:I did not mean to- me:Kisame.Listen to me.Stay down and eat. Kisame:*sighs*Thank you,Nami-san... I smile as he sat down to eat,breathing heavily too,and finished in a matter of seconds. Kisame:Thank you for the meal. me:Don't sweat it. Kisame:Now,if you do not mind,I will go back to- me:Kisame. Kisame:Yes? His back was facing me,while he was staring absently into the cloudy grey sky. I went in front of him and stood on my tippy toes,trying to reach him.I put my hands on his face,cupping it,making him look me straight in the eyes.He tried to look tough and emotionless,but sorrow was clouding his eyes. me:Kisame.You worry me. Kisame:I am sorry,Nami-san. me:Please...Kisame...I...understand your sorrow.Being shunned for being and looking different.People fearing you.Your own village shunning you for doing what was best for the mission.Being...different in general.But...Kisame...I...heard what you said.Back then,when I was resting after the chakra overuse. His eyes went wide with shock and a tint of purple on his cheekbones.Was he...blushing? me:Kisame...are you...blushing? He turned around fast and jumped away.So that's how you want to play,huh?Fine.Be that way. I conceal my chakra and shot off after him,until I see him and the same river where we met,standing on a rock,with his feet dangling in the water. I jump from the tree and land on the water,right in front of him. me:Don't think you can win at Hide and Seek with me. He looked down with a sad chuckle. Kisame:You were not supposed to hear what I said that day.You are going to be afraid and start being cold.You will not notice the subtle hints anymore.You might distance yourself and stay with your friends more,leaving me alone again.You will fake your nice act,because you are a kind person,but it will be see-through.And...I could not bare to see that happening...You..Nami-san...are my weakness. me:That won't ever happen.And want to know why? Kisame:...why? me:Because I love you,Kisame. Kisame:*shocked*Wh-what....? me:Love isn't a weakness,Kisame.Love and compassion is what makes us stronger.The desire to protect the ones we love.The...power to move on and keep on going...that is...all thanks to love.And Kisame,you aren't my weakness.You are my strength.I saved you that day,because I couldn't ever imagine my life without you in it.Kisame...I love you. And with that,I put my hands on his face and kiss him softly,then put my forehead on his,gazing into his eyes with a warm loving look. me:Don't be afraid of your emotions,Kisame.You are capable of feeling positive emotions too.You are not a monster.You are like me.You're a good person.Kind,compassionate,loyal,brave,strong...You just hide them,because that's the standard of a shinobi.Cold.You do a great job,putting walls around you.But I'm a destroyer.Don't forget that the weird bomber is my best friend.Ahem,regardless... As I look away to smile,Kisame took the opportunity to hug me tightly,putting his chin on my head. Kisame:Thank you,Nami-chan.You are right.Thank you,for showing me that I am not the monster I always thought I was. With that,we stayed in silence,hugging each other,letting the pouring rain fall,creating a wonderful musical harmony that soothed our senses.Kisame...I love you.

--

Despite telling him not to beat himself up for me saving him that day,he still hasn't given up his extreme training.At least,this time,I'm always there to make sure he doesn't mistreat himself as he used to.Getting weaker while striving for strength is quite ironic and disappointing,yet possible,if you manage to look over the bodily needs.Oh well.All was well so far. That is,until I was assigned on a solo mission.As for my skill level,it was merely espionage and assassination.A simple biodegradable needle filled with lethal poison that will insta-kill you should be enough to cover my tracks.And the poison in his body won't even be detectable.Isn't that just great? Captain Nami on duty! Just before I left,Kisame kissed my head an hugged me tightly,telling me to be careful.How sweet of him...When he should be taking care of himself.

---

Armed and ready.The target was located.I concealed my chakra all good when I entered the Country of Fire.I really love this kind of environment...so easy to hide...stealthy...sneaky...silent assassinations...so many trees and leaves... Kage Bunshin no Jutsu! Just in case of needing a diversion.To confuse the target.But they can't all look like me...I'll make them look like the Akatsuki members,so the target will be intimidated. *swoosh* The needle finds its way in the neck of the target.He widens his eyes,then falls on the ground,looking dead.That's gotta sting hehe... Just as I smirked and was preparing my poison set,so I could get home,I heard a maniac laugh coming from underneath me,and I saw him.The target that was supposed to be dead. He took the needle from his neck,then jumped to my level,and dropped it in my hand,as I watched him shocked. That particular poison was made with both my and Sasori's forbidden village secrets. He was NOT supposed to be alive.But...how? guy:Nice trick,but we were prepared for an Akatsuki attack,and we got prepared for a Cheap Shot like this.We knew it was going to be you to come,so we made an army full of poison resistant highly-skilled shinobi to kill you.You also have a reaaaaally nice bounty on your head.To think though that the Akatsuki would let such a little,precious member of their organization go on such a difficult mission on her own.Or did they send you solo on purpose?Or perhaps...A suicide mission?

I'm not one to talk much,but I kicked the guy in the face,and started jump-running on all 4s out of there as fast as I could.I wasn't a kitsune for nothing,after all.Swiftly now! The only problem with this kind of fleeing,is that I am fast,but it's a blind race.Meaning that my eyes cannot pay attention to all their surroundings...and I might get ambushed easily. I hoped for the best,but the best wasn't for me to receive,as I felt myself falling on the ground,after a punch in the face from an Otogakure bastard.Godamn,he sure can pack a punch...My nose is bleeding...ouchie... If only I could get away from here...somehow... But I doubt that will happen,since there are way too many Otogakure bastards surrounding me right now.In one word... I'm totally screwed. They started chuckling,and one after another,started using their sound wave jutsus to mess with my senses.My balance was a mess and couldn't stand up,the vibrations were ringing in my head,scrambling my brain...it hurts so much,I can't even think. What can I do to get out of this... This torture is so bad,that tears welled up in my eyes,and I started burying myself in the crater that I formed upon falling,trying to act like a mole would,but with no avail.They kept dragging me by the scruff of my shirt,using the sound waves as a torture method,as they kept laughing at my weakness and vulnerability.I'd laugh at it too,if only I wasn't so frustrated and burning with anger at my own self-pity and uselessness and worthlessness in the organization and the world itself. No wonder the Tsuchikage sent me away.No wonder Leader sent me on this kind of mission. I was useless and had to be disposed of faster than trash. My thoughts of  Self-deprecation continued as I was still being held down while squirming to get out of their grip and flee the scene,when I thought... I have a needle with fake poison in it.Combining it with my coma state like Kekkei Genkai,it will be easy to act dead...if they don't know about it...and if they don't continue to belittle my own corpse...

I started screaming louder,whilst managing to free my right hand from their grip,and I took out the fake poison needle from my belt and shoved it into my neck and activating my Kekkey Genkai at the same time. And with that,I was left hoping for the best outcome.

===

Light... Am I...dead? Did my plan not work? The afterlife actually exists? What about Kisame and the others?Are they okay? Do they know that I died? Will they be okay? Those were the countless questions I was asking myself,until an annoyed voice could be heard behind me.The author of this voice was...well...actually me myself. Well obviously they will be okay without you!They can easily find someone so much better than you! Yeah...I know...No need to remind me,stupid self. You were asking a shit ton of useless rethorical questions.This is not a book,so the reader won't be able to answer to in their mind.It's your own consciousness.Use it for once,dammit. You are way too much of a bitch to want to be this hopeless as to actually talk to you. Then what about your lovy dovy sharky boy?Don't you miss him? What about Kisame?It's doubtless that I miss him and want to check up on him.Why ask? Why don't you check for yourself then? I can do that? Yes,you idiot!Jeez,I never knew my own self was so dumb... Shut up!I didn't know you could look after someone while being dead! Well...maybe you see...because...YOU ARE NOT DEAD?! I'm...not?!But...how?!I-I thought... *facepalms*Just...wake up...and get the hell out of here.I dealt with your idiocy enough... Screw you...

And with that,I managed to slowly flutter my eyes open,trying to get a better idea of my living position at that moment. I was in a familiar blue room that seemed to strike a certain nostalgia in my brain.Why?Because this was Kisame's room. But why am I in his room? How did I get to the HQ? Suddenly,the room opened,and many concerned voices could be heard. Dei:You sent her ALONE on a mission to kill Orochimaru?!Are you mad,yeah?! Pein:We were not aware of that detail of the mission. Dei:Detail?!DETAIL?!It cost Nami her life! Sasori:Shut up,brat.That isn't true.She's alive. Dei:What do you mean,Danna? Sasori:Kisame found her with her own poisoned needle in her neck,but while researching that certain poison,I realized that it was not,in fact,poison.Just...grape juice... Konan:Why would she do that,then?If she wasn't poisoned,then why was she in that that catatonic state? Itachi:Kekkei...Genkai.... Kisame:Itachi-san?You know of her clan's Kekkei Genkai? Itachi:*nods*It allows her to enter in a coma state,shutting of any vital system while at it.She cannot die from it,obviously. Dei:How do you know that,um? Itachi:I do my research. Tobi:Tobi thinks Nami-chan was lucky that Kisame-san found her and saved her.Poor Nami-chan!!!*whines* Dei:Shut up,Tobi!Those bastards messed with her hearing sense enough!You don't have to add up to it,yeah! Kakuzu:It would seem that you are just as noisy. Leader:I know I am at fault for this mission incident,but we are going to track down the requester and hunt him down. Dei:This calls for revenge!Yeah! Sasori:Shut up,brat.Let's get out of here.She needs rest,not noise. Konan:Sasori is right.Although,I believe that Kisame should remain in here. They all nodded in agreement and slowly made their way out of the room,and I heard a loud,aggravated sighs.It was Kisame. Kisa:An once again,I fail to protect you.How could I let something like this happen?!What if you died?Or lost your hearing completely?Or were captured?Or...or...Saint Same-Sama,I do not want to ever imagine those possible apocalyptic scenarios... me:Kisa...You're such a drama queen...with that...sophisticated....vocabulary... Kisa:Nami...!You are awake... me:*smirks*Bad time to be awake?I could pretend to be asleep,while you continue your lovely monologue. Kisa:D-don't do that again... me:It was really sweet though...But you are right...I'm really surprised I don't actually have any kind of injury or long-term trauma from that...incident... Kisa:*sighs*I should have come after you as soon as you left...I knew something was wrong...I could somehow...feel it...the...the terrible malicious evil vibe that I felt while you were away....My heart felt like it were held too tightly...almost squashed...I knew something bad was going to happen to you...and yet... me:You saved me,Kisa-kun. Kisa:E-eh..? me:Tell me,how did I get here? Kisa:I...went after you...Itachi-san conviced me to follow what my heart was screaming for and go in search of you...He thought the mission seemed quite fishy and wanted to make sure you were safe... me:*chuckle*Nice pun there... Kisa:Nami!Please do not laugh at a time like this!I was worried sick and guilty beyond measure! me:I'm sorry,Kisa.But I do appreciate you saving me from those bastards.I do appreciate everything you've one for me thus far,and even more.I love how you are so sweet and kind when it comes to me...How you truly show that you love me with all your heart...looking after me when nobody else did... Kisa:That is the sole purpose of my existence,Nami.To know that you are safe,with me. me:Oh,Kisa-kun....If you continue this lachrymatory speach,I swear I might shed more tears. Kisa:No no no no no!Please do not let your soft cheeks be hosts to the rivers of tears...not anymore...not while I am around. me:You have no idea how much I love you,my dear Shakespearian poet.Thank you for saving me,Kisame.Both from those ninjas,and from the darkness within. Kisa:Do not ever thank me for protecting you,for that is...ahem...*fain blush*what a boyfriend does. My eyes widened in shock at his words as I stared at him with sparkly eyes.He never said 'boyfriend' or 'girlfriend' before.This was a huge step. me:M-my boyfriend...Kisame...You are my boyfriend...YOU ARE SO SWEET,GODAMN IT! Kisa:*scratches his hair**looks away*Ehe...is that so... me:Yes.It is quite so. Kisa:Well,I doubt the taste of fish is any sweet,actually.Either that,or your taste buds have been messed up with. me:Why don't you let me decide that? Kisa:H-huh?How? me:Like this-- In a blink of an eye,I was in front of him,standing on his feet,kissing him softly while my hands were in his hair.I could feel his smile,while deepening the kiss,as his hands snaked around my waste,putting me closer to him,supporting me.Standing like this,chest to chest,forehead to forehead,looking at each others eyes or sharing a passional kiss filled with love and sparks,is what I was thoroughly thrilled to have in my life.My life that I am going to spend with Kisame. All of a sudden though I coul feel something hard poking my abdomen and I muttered his name while biting my lip,then looking down,my eyes were wide in shock,and I jumped back on the bed in surprise at what I saw.

....

Samehada broke out of its bandage-prison and made its way between me and Kisame,looking all spiky and scary.I was being intimidated by the scaley sword that was 'threatening' me,as Kisame's body shook with mirth,looking at my blushing-frightened expression. Kisame:Seems like someone is quite jealous of our lovely relationship.Do not worry,Samehada.I will not neglect you.But I do have a lover now. The sword slowly made its scales smoothen while looking...depressed and deflated,and went back in the closet. me:Wh-what...did just...w-why...b-but...u-uh... Kisame:*chuckle*I must admit,I have not laughed like this in quite a while.Seeing Samehada jealous like that... me:That was indeed weird... Kisame:Why did you get so scared like that though? me:It was a real jumpscare,Kisame!Don't laugh! Kisame:*grin*It was just my sword! me:I wasn't paying attention and it kept poking my abdomen!It was freaky! Kisame:What did you think it was,Nami? me:U-uh...I...w-well...ermh...d-dunno!Kisame,don't ask such silly qustions! He chuckle darkly while smirking with a glint in his eye that I never got the chance to experience before.Just as I thought that,I found myself pinned on the bed,with a smug-faced smirking Kisame dangerously close to my burning red face. me:K-K-KISAME!WH-WHAT DO Y-YOU THINK YOU'RE D-DOING?! Kisame:*puts his finger to my lips*Do not make such a ruckus,or the others might storm back. me:B-b-b-ut....K-kisa...me... Kisame:*whispers*What did you think it was,Nami-chan~? me:...N-nothing... Kisame:Such innocence...I might actually feel bad for tainting it... me:Wh-what d-do y-you mean...? Kisame:Shh...Just enjoy this night...like it is our last... me:Kisa...me...I love you... Kisame:I love you,Nami-chan.As he said that,my face burnt even worse as I was squirming in his embrace,embarrassed to the point of fainting.Although...I must say...seeing both sides of Kisame...Is surely intriguing.I have a lot to discover about him and a lot to look forward to,from this lucky shark.