Fandom Redemption [Closed] [Graverobber141/arbus]

[Graverobber141]

On some level, Sakura's words registered in Satoru's mind: the part deep inside him that knew the logical faults in his compulsions, yet wasn't emotion the definition of irrational? He wish he didn't know, that he was shrouded in a cape of ignorance, blind to his own hypocrisy, because then everything would be so simple, the answer so clear, and he wouldn't be this conflicted.

He had asked his sensei a similar question on that basis, about war, as a young boy who did not yet understand the world; he wanted to know why people were so intent on causing each other harm, and why couldn't they just stop? And in the simplest way he could answer his student, who was still incapable of grasping the full extent of that question, whose answer seemed so simple, Takeshi had merely stated, 'Because we're only human.'

"Were it so easy," he muttered, after a long stretch of silence, spent with his eyes studying the pieces on the board. Once more he took her turn for her, taking advantage of the opening he had created, and forcing his own side into a tight spot. Another pause, his finger tapping the grid, before he informed her, "You have checkmate in three turns."

Leaning back in his chair, his gaze swept over her, before wandering off to look at nothing in particular, unable to meet her eyes. "Thank you for answering my question, and indulging me in this." His hand swept over the makeshift shogi set, before gripping the edge of the cloth, intending to fold it up for transportation, because he wanted to get out of this room that felt suddenly too small. But he hesitated, and with a frustrated sigh, merely flipped one of the pieces over with a flick of his finger. She had opened up to him, searched for some connection, and for that, he found he couldn't just walk away.

He finally forced his gaze back onto her, and stated the following as if it were fact, outlined in the logic she had just spoken to him: "You seem so concerned about his happiness, but what about your own? It works both ways; you can't absolve him of his sins on the basis of his hurt, while torturing yourself with your own, completely invalidating your own pain. At some point, you need to forgive yourself. Recognize the fact that you're only human."

 

[arbus]

She observed him, the way his body grew tense and his fingers restless. His mind seemed peculiar to her, the way it played against him, the way he moved the shogi pieces almost unconsciously. She folded her hands on the table in front of her and studied the board. The overturned shogi piece lay on the table like an exclamation mark.

"I'm still working on that", she confessed, suddenly calm in the face of his agitation. He appeared like a caged animal to her, and for the first time, very clearly, she was able to see behind his smooth facade. Why it had crumbled, she did not know. It was interesting, though, a puzzle to be solved; maybe the answer would give the vague hunch, swimming in the back of her mind like mist, a more substantial form. "Loving another person is always easier than loving yourself."

She picked up the overturned piece.

"Would you mind if we continued this another time, Satoru? I'm terribly tired."

 

[Graverobber141]

It was almost like a relief to be freed of the conversation, and Satoru grasped the opportunity, chastising himself for the stupidity of indulging his curiosity. Ignorance was bliss; he would have been much happier skewering the Uchiha without the thought of what mess he would leave behind. But now, with that damning knowledge--No. Cycles and revolving pain aside, this was something he had to do, because doing nothing was somehow worse, would mean that Takeshi died for nothing.

It doesn't change a thing, he once again told himself, repeating that mantra over and over again, as if he could just think it enough, it would become his belief.

Letting go a sigh, he forced his trademarked smirk upon his lips, the half-hearted expression failing to reach his eyes, as he stated, "Well, we did tire each other out in that little sparring match earlier, didn't we? Think I'll retire for that night as well. Since it's a little cramped in here, I'll be camped outdoors." Because he wanted desperately to get as far away from everybody as possible, to give himself time to clear his thoughts, steady his resolve.

Standing, his knuckles rapped roughly against the table top, and he hesitated for a moment, trapped in place, as he felt a compulsion to tell her: "If things were different, I like to think we would've been friends." And with that, offering her an oddly soft, sad smile, he was gone, footsteps quiet as he exited, though the sound of metal clanging softly against metal could be heard, as his finger played with the aged headband strapped to the sheath of his sword.

 

[arbus]

Sakura sat for a long time, staring at the door, his words rolling in her head like a boulder set off by the careless fall of a foot. It did not sit right with her, his last words; they were too much like an apology, an epilogue.

To what? she wondered, and her mind reeled in something she did not yet recognize as the onset of fear. Her fingers brushed over the rough cloth. He had left behind his shogi set, even though a moment earlier, he had made as if too wrap it up and take it with him. He had been preoccupied, wrapped up in thoughts she only wished she could read. As she rose to her feet, she suddenly felt the tingling sensation in the back of her neck; enemy.

But had he not be open with her, not just in his words, but in the display of his emotions? She did not think of him as an enemy, no; she thought of him as a danger, the way a kindled explosion tag was dangerous. Her fingers moved efficiently as they tidied up the shogi pieces, wrapping them in the cloth and storing them away on a shelf for him to retrieve in the morning. Only when she had washed the cups, she retired, not without passing Sasuke's room. She listened at his door for a moment. There was an urge to open it, to lay eyes on his sleeping frame (to crawl into bed next to him, hide underneath the blanket against his warmth) but no, what a stupid unbidden thought. She walked on.

The Bingo book she retrieved from her bag, in the privacy of the room she slept in, was brand-new. It smelled of ink and parchment, and she smiled a bit at the memory of her departure from the Hokage Tower that evening. Kakashi-sensei was not one for showing much emotion; it was the little things that gave him away, things she and Naruto had come to learn over the years. The Bingo book (the ANBU issue, highly confidential and theoretically illegal in her hands) was his way of telling her to watch out for herself. She cracked the cover open, her fingers gliding over the index. She did not know Satoru's last name, only assumed he was a missing nin. Then she remembered the Sand hitai-ate, and she leaved through the pages until she found the section she was looking for: Sand shinobi, all categories.

 

[Graverobber141]

**********​

Sunagakure, Eleven Years Ago

"A secret mission, and you're leaving your team behind, not even going to tell us where you're going, or why?" The dark-haired child (he was growing, though, wasn't he? not really a boy anymore) glowered over the shogi board, and huffed, pushing a piece forward, failing to realize that he had stumbled into his sensei's trap. "I want to go with you, Takeshi-sensei."

The scarred man seated cross-legged across the table dryly coughed a breath of air that might have been a chuckle with more exertion, running a few fingers along the scruff on his jawline, amber eyes lifting to take stock of his student's furious, determined expression. "And you think you're ready for an S-ranked mission?"

"I'm ready," he declared, standing up as if to add force to the statement, grey eyes sparking the intent of a storm.

No, still very much so a child.

Takeshi grunted roughly, before advancing one of his pieces, taking one of his student's to corner his King. Checkmate. "Then tell me your mistake."

Taken aback, the boy fell onto his knees, studying the board closely; his gaze raced over the grid, and Takeshi could practically see the gears turning in his head as he tried to puzzle out where exactly he went wrong.

"There is no room for mistakes on missions like this, boy," Takeshi finally grumbled, perhaps too harshly, he realized, watching as the child deflated, his brows pulling together in indignation. Exhaling through his nose, Takeshi's stone-like features broke, softening in one of those rare moments, and more gently, he reminded his student, "Patience, Satoru. Your time will come."

Satoru looked away then, his hair falling into his face, and suddenly all the determination and antagonism had fled from his body. "It's just..."

Takeshi inclined his head, watching the boy closely.

"...If something were to happened to you, and I weren't there..."

"Hm," the sound rumbled in Takeshi's throat. Now he understood. Shifting his jaw, the swordsman reached out, placing his hand against the boy's shoulder. "Satoru."

Grey eyes peered up at him, full of fear and doubt at the possibilities of what the next few days would hold; Satoru was too clever not to have seen the change in atmosphere in the village, to know that something was happening in secrecy.

"Whatever happens, I will see you on the other side," Takeshi stated with resolve, the same words his own sensei had uttered to him before each battle they rushed into together, until the day he hadn't seen her once the dust had settled, and only then had he realized the full extent of what the statement had meant; one day, when his time came, he would see her again, left watching and waiting.

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

Konohagakure, A Few Days Later

There was a certain calmness that always overcame Takeshi while looming on the precipice of battle. His breathing would slow, become steady, and he would become highly perceptive of the world around him, the slightest shift of the person standing next to him, the way the angled sun cast shadows at his feet, the slight breeze rustling through clothing, and he would take in all this information, silent and waiting; patient.

His mind was clear, as he had already run through what he must do a thousand times before this moment, and he would let his body move from memory when the time came.

In the distance, a bird cawed, and he could hear the shocked murmuring of the crowd as they discussed the last of the Uchiha's amazing display of the chidori. A wind tugged at the ANBU robe he wore: a disguise he had donned to be here, where he would be able to join the fighting as soon as it started. Divide and conquer. His goal was to keep the Leaf Jonin busy, to give Gaara time to transform.

And when the chaos started, he moved with precision and speed.

A Konoha Chunin standing in front of him started to rush forward, yet was stopped as Takeshi summoned his chakra, forming a blade of wind within his right hand, which was impaled through the Chunin's chest. The wound had purposely missed vital organs, but the threat of blood loss would keep the enemy out of the fight. Then Takeshi was on the move, discarding his robe and mask, drawing forth his chokuto with a metallic slink. Practically a blur among the crowd, he sought out his target and struck.

The wind picked up as he infused his chakra within his sword and flung it forward, sending the blade slicing through the air, before it embedded itself into a pillar upholding the roof of the stands; the move was meant to catch Hatake Kakashi's attention, and jumping to stand in his way, separate him from the rest of the group, Takeshi retrieved his weapon.

"The Copycat Ninja of Konoha; it will be an honor to test my skills against yours," Takeshi greeted his opponent, going as far to even present him with a bow, before sliding back to create distance, twirling his blade around in his grip to ready it.

 

[arbus]

Kakashi spun, seconds before the loud crack of crumbling cement filled the air. He raised an arm to shield his face from the dust and debris, registering wind and strength and a whiff of familiarity.

"Copycat", Kakashi repeated with a light chuckle. His one, visible eye flew along the pillar, resting on the crevice for a moment and then past it. The roof would not hold if the pillar gave out. The people -- some of them shinobi, mostly civilians -- would be crashed in their sleep. Evacuation was needed, now, but Gai was engaged in a fight with three Sand shinobi and had his back to him. The intruder's strategy to separate them had been executed perfectly. His attention, divided for that brief moment, fell back onto the man, who apparently had selected him as his opponent, and only now did he take him in; the unshaven, weatherbeaten face, the intense look of amber eyes. "That's a new one. I like it."

A chokuto; wind-style user, older than the average shinobi and looking the part -- bearing his scars proudly. Sand hitai-ate. His fingers tightened around the kunai in his hand. He wished for his tanto now, standard weaponry on every ANBU but optional for Jonin. It would hold itself better against the precision that was attainable with a sword that length, and better too against the force that his opponent was able to execute.

"The pleasure is all mine", he said, lifting his hand to push the askew hitai-ate back, revealing the carefully spinning tomoe of his sharingan. His pose suggested ease, were it not for the tension, easily missed, in his shoulders, in the way he moved a little circle around the other man, keeping the carefully created distance. "I always wondered what the Swordsman of the Sand was up to nowadays. Nothing good, I see."

 

[Graverobber141]

An amused grunt roughly fell from Takeshi's lips at the use of his title. His eyes remained carefully focused on his opponent, watching his movements like a hawk, his head turning to keep him within his vision, and when he started to exit it, he also began circling; two wolves dancing around each other, baring fangs, but there was a level of respect present as well, two soldiers of comparable skill facing each other across the battlefield.

"You're old enough to know by now that this is simply the game we shinobi must play, aren't you, boy?" Takeshi stated, the words scolding, yet there was a hidden, almost playfulness behind them, as if he were teasing Kakashi. "I am merely serving my village, as you are yours."

That eye is dangerous, Takeshi mused, already beginning to formulate a method on dealing with the situation; he would simply need to be quick enough to keep Kakashi one step behind, even if he could see what was coming. Huffing, he formed the hand sign of the serpent around the grip of his sword, letting wind chakra flood through his muscles to enhance his speed. "I hope you're paying attention, because we're about to move quickly."

As promised, he darted forward a moment later, slicing with his chokuto at Kakashi's midsection, while quickly forming another sign with his free hand, summoning a burst of razor-sharp wind, sent lower toward the Konoha Jonin's left leg.

 

[arbus]

Quick was an understatement.

Kakashi shifted his weight onto the balls of his feet, fell backwards and caught himself with bent knees. The blade scraped the material of his flak vest, and he squatted, strain building quickly in his thigh muscles but ready for the jump to avoid the second stab. He back-flipped, brought distance between them once again. His hands formed seals of their own, too quick for any but the expert eye to discern, and slammed the palms of his hands to the ground. The concrete floor burst as an earthen pillar erupted from beneath, an obstacle between them that bumped against the top of the roof, stabilizing it just in time as the marred pillar collapsed with a loud crash.

Using the slowly settling dust to his advantage, Kakashi formed another hand sign and leaped out of immediate proximity. Accompanied by the chirping of a thousand birds, his kage bunshin moved swiftly around the pillar, sharingan widened and spinning wildly as it went for the killing strike, aiming for the heart.

 

[Graverobber141]

Takeshi expected nothing less from the famed ninja of the Leaf; Kakashi was able to keep stride with his own speed, a feat that was no laughing matter.

Sliding back automatically as the pillar rose--secretly glad that his opponent took the opportunity to support the structure, even if he had caused the damage; casualties were not something he took lightly--Takeshi kept his senses peeled, raising his sword defensively, coiling his muscles.

He heard it, that distinct chipper, and he was thankful that Kakashi had taught his student the same trick, because he recognized the chidori before it had a chance to claim his life. Quickly and dexterously forming a few hand signs around the handle of his chokuto, ending with the serpent, he sent a gale of wind outward around him, throwing the lightning-wielding bunshin backwards in a cloud of smoke, before he was once more moving, channeling his chakra into his blade as he snapped it up defensively, eyes searching for the real Kakashi.

 

[arbus]

Kakashi‘s strategy unfolded like a particularly beautiful piece of origami; he shimmered into view behind Takeshi just as the Swordsman‘s wind jutsu started to subside — damn, he was quick — hands flittering through another array of signs, pulling chakra from his core and spitting it out in an orb of fire. The flames caught on to the subsiding draft and grew, licking at the air greedily as they reached for Takeshi‘s skin.

Lightening was weak against wind; wind was weak against fire. A diversion in form of his kage bunshin — taking into account the fact that his opponent must have witnessed the chidori mere minutes ago — and then, attack.

The drawback: Kakashi had to withdraw once again, feet dancing lightly over uneven, shattered ground, as not to be pulled into his own jutsu which, fueled by Takeshi‘s wind jutsu, was rapidly expanding, taking to the wooden roof and the balustrade. It was hot againt his skin, the high points of his cheeks glowing in the heat as sweat formed under his arms and the low of his back. Somewhere in the distance, over the roar of the vicious fire, he heard Gai‘s firm voice shouting commands of evacuation.

 

[Graverobber141]

There was little time to react, but Takeshi's mind was already racing, his muscles already moving, as the fire raged toward him, its flames fed by the gust of wind he had summoned moments before; this Kakashi was a clever one. With a grunt, the scarred man skidded backwards, buying himself a few split seconds, as he threw his sword through the fire. The chokuto howled through the air, the spreading blaze eating away at the wind chakra-infused blade, and as it parted through the flames, carrying them with it, the weapon spiraled on a path straight toward Kakashi.

Then the inferno was upon Takeshi.

Forming a few hands signs, feeling pain start to speed throughout his burnt body during these few moments spent in the brunt of the hellfire, he brought forth another forceful gale of wind directed downward, the flooring beneath his feet gave away, and then he was falling, racing the flames that trailed after him in the wake of the wind-style jutsu. He hit the next level below first, danced on his feet to change direction, and then was darting toward the outside wall, forming the same set of hand signs, breaking through with another hurricane-like burst of wind.

Feet clinging to the outside wall of the arena, Takeshi peered upward, recalling his sword back to his outstretch hand with a summoning of the wind that naturally wanted to cling to it. Yet he hesitated to advance, because out here, with the sounds of battle around him, he was becoming aware of a dawning fact: They were losing. That last move of Kakashi's had also left its mark upon Takeshi; a nasty burn was evident against part of his face, and he could already feel how he was slowing down, his chakra running low.

"Check," he muttered, thinking of the boy he had left behind.

 

[arbus]

The outline of a body appeared over the balustrade, edges sharp against the blazing fire that greedily ate all that nurtured it. It hauled itself over the railing, following the path the chokuto had taken seconds before, then vanished in the shadow thrown onto the outside wall by another building, only to appear again in full. Kakashi was drenched, water sizzling and evaporating from him in small wafts. Face and hands blackened from grime, the ugly stench of burnt hair in his trail, he made directly for Takeshi, kunai at the ready.

Drawing nearer, the gaping cut in his flak vest became visible, blackened and impossible to tell if there was a wound, but Kakashi knew — the skin under the grime cauterized and tender, and each step hurt but the pain was far away, buried under adrenaline and the enorphines of a good fight. Both eyes sharp with intent as he pressed his advantage, throwing himself into the Swordsman‘s path, aiming to get past his defences, past the line of his sword to slice his own blade across his throat.

 

[Graverobber141]

"Persistent," Takeshi grumbled, the utterance more of an annoyed praise than an insult, though by the time the word fell from his mouth, the two were already re-engaged in a blur of motion.

Tucking his chin down to guard his neck, the swordsman realized he couldn't rely on his weapon of choice to save him in this situation, as the figure neared far too quickly for him to use the reach his chokuto provided him. Repositioning his body, dunking downward slightly, the kunai stabbed deeply into where his shoulder met his collar instead of its intended target, warm blood seeping through his vest, the smell and feeling almost intoxicating to the old soldier.

Jerking out his off-hand, he sought to grab Kakashi's arm, grip tight, holding him near, even if it dug the blade deeper into him, as he pushed off the wall of the arena in a backflip, letting go of his hold on the Leaf Jonin as he did so, intending to send him flying through the air.

While falling, Takeshi's hands danced around each other to form a few hand seals, ending on that prominent sign of the serpent (risky, considering his opponent's use of the fire style, but he needed to end this quickly), as he concentrated a gust of forceful wind, sending it rushing down on Kakashi, threatening to barrel him into the approaching ground of the arena.

 

[arbus]

Underestimating Takeshi's tolerance for pain, his readiness to sacrifice his body's wellbeing -- many shinobi had a low treshold, absurdly, and could not bear the thought of injury, much like any civilian -- Kakashi was too sluggish to avoid the hold, and in the next moment he was sent flying, feeling his body thrust with a strength he also had not reckoned with. His fingers slipped from the bloody handle of the kunai; sticky with blood themselves, as he gathered his chakra to steer the fall.

The Sharingan widened and spun, spun -- he saw the signs, the snake, the wind, a nanosecond before it happened -- and only that allowed him to react in time, form the necessary seals even in mid-fall, and he reciprocated with another burst of fire, smaller, less brutal and greedy.

Depletion of chakra started to become an issue; he recognized it in the suspended response of his muscles, the ache that was building in his forehead, a dull throbbing behind Obito's eye. He fell, and somersaulted as he landed on the ground, the grass tickling the skin of his hands. The flames above his head ate away at the jutsu, but not much more. He sprang to his feet, legs still steady, lungs and heart and muscles still sturdy and battle-ready: He drew the shuriken from his pouch, and a moment later it was like a hailstorm closing in on Takeshi. The Sharingan was locked onto him, his target, and his movements were a blur as he pressed ever forward, towards the other, again.

Somewhere in the distance, a dome collapsed, and a fight was over and a life lost -- Kakashi didn't know it yet, but his Hokage had just given his life for the sake of the village.

 

[Graverobber141]

Out of the corner of his vision, Takeshi saw figures retreating from the rooftop where his Kazekage had been battling with the Hokage, and at that sight, a feeling of disgust curled within his stomach, and though he did not realize it completely in that moment, he had an inkling that his village, his people, had been played, used like pawns upon a shogi board, and tossed aside as a sacrificial move to accomplish someone else's ambitions.

Skidding across the ground as he landed, sandals kicking up dirt, he felt the jutsu he used to maintain his speed falter, and the strain it put upon his body begin to set it. His own chakra was nearly gone, expended in that last burst of wind, which his opponent had countered with a ball of fire. Around him, he noticed his side's numbers were thinning, and the realization that they had lost, to an extent he feared he did not understand, started to seek in.

"Checkmate," he muttered, almost as an apology to someone who wasn't there.

Lifting his sword to deflect what of the shuriken he could, several digging into his arm and chest, he watched the Jonin come toward him and waited.

Patience.

With the last of his chakra, he summoned one last burst of wind, though this one was weaker, defensive instead of offensive, seeking to throw Kakashi off-balance, and give him time dance away.

"It's over," Takeshi grunted, coming to a stop. Surrounded by the fallen, his comrades and his enemies, and the still alive Leaf shinobi cleaning up the battlefield, he knew he had no chance to escape, and with that knowledge, had no desire to cause more chaos. Holding his sword before him, he dropped the weapon, letting it fall into the grass, sunlight reflecting across the blade. Taking a step back, he kneeled, bowing his head to accept whatever fate would be decided for him, as he declared, "I surrender, Hatake Kakashi."

I will see you on the other side, he thought, and wondered absently if Satoru had yet to discover where he went wrong during their last shogi match.

 

[arbus]

Takeshi's jutsu had the intended effect -- Kakashi shifted his weight, avoiding the gush of wind just in time, feet one-two-one-two steps on the ground; first a trip than a firm stance as both soles found solid ground. For a moment, his brain was not able to process what his eyes took in, what the Sharingan displayed as the truth. Then, his focus crumbled, and the impressions rushed his mind.

The battlefield that was his village, littered with bodies, either dead or heavily wounded. From afar, a howl that was loss, and frantic whispers spreading through the ranks of the remaining Konoha shinobi. Against all instincts, his eyes shifted away from his opponent to flicker towards the sprouting woods above the Hokage Mansion. Even from here, he could see dozens of little, masked dots. ANBU, and so many of them. Kakashi took it all in and knew what it meant.

He approached and stooped to take hold of the chokuto. His fingers caressed the blade for a moment, then he tossed it into the air to catch it at the handle, and with a firm grip on it, he extended the other hand to touch Takeshi's shoulder.

"I will take good care of it", he promised, "It was truly an honor to meet the Swordsman of the Sand in battle, Takeshi-san." Then the paper seal in the palm of his hand -- retrieved from his pouch before taking the sword into his possession -- activated against Takeshi's shoulder, binding him by way of paralysis, and Kakashi moved swiftly to catch the other's body, prodding it up with his free hand, before it could it the ground. In a whirl of green, Gai landed next to him.

"The Hokage is dead, Rival", he announced in a grave voice, his face for once bitterly earnest, hurt written across his features more openly than Kakashi would ever allow.

"I know", he replied, pulled his hitai-ate down and turned his head, offering Takeshi a glimpse into his own sadness as he looked at him with his single, grey eye. The price of betrayal, he thought, like a foreboding, and turned to face the battlefield once more.

 

[Graverobber141]

Suna, A Few Weeks Later

“I figured it out, Takeshi-sensei!”

Tilting his head in a curious manner, Takeshi spared his student a glance, as he reached for his money pouch to pay the vendor. “Is that so, boy? Then enlighten me.”

Satoru grinned widely, holding up a single shogi piece: a pawn. “You used the king’s gambit strategy, baiting me with valuable pieces, while you positioned one pawn to corner my king right under my nose.”

A smile, easily missed, graced Takeshi’s lips, and the scarred warrior turned his attention to the woman behind the counter to hide it, handing over a few bills in exchange for two sticks of dango. “Correct.” You’re learning fast, boy, growing right before my eyes.

Satoru beamed as his sensei turned to face him, kneeling down so that they were eye-level. Offered one of the skewers, the grey-eyed boy gladly accepted, immediately biting down one of the sweets as if he hadn’t eaten for days.

“Do you know what that means, boy?” Takeshi asked.

Satoru swallowed down another dango, before looking at the older man curiously, eyebrow and head cocked questioningly.

“In the right circumstances, a pawn can take down a king,” Takeshi stated, before patting the boy’s head. Standing to his full height, he placed his hand on Satoru’s shoulder. “Come now, you still have a lot to learn.”

KOKORO SATORU​

Age: 23
Registration ID: 060117
Date of Birth: October 25th
Blood Type: O Negative
Height: 179 cm
Weight: 83.1 kg

Village: Sunagakure
Rank: Jonin
Sensei: Minamato Takeshi (KIA—Five Kage Summit)
Teammates: Igarashi Shiori (long range specialist, puppeteer, Jonin rank); Sato Kioshi (sensor, tracker, trained in medical ninjustsu, Jonin rank)

Academy Graduation Age: N/A (Did not attend; was personally trained by Minamato Takeshi)
Chunin Exam Age: 13
Jonin Age: 17
ANBU Age: N/A

Criminal Rank: S-Rank
Status: Active
Organization: N/A
Affiliations: Intel suggests his father was Korkoro Gin (deceased); no knowledge if contact with family or birth village has been attempted
Wanted For: Defection
*Disappeared shortly after conclusion of Fourth Shinobi War; no intel of current whereabouts
*Wanted alive
*Low priority; reports state someone matching his description has been collecting bounties for more dangerous criminals posing a threat to Suna

Known Elements: Wind
Notable Weapons: Chokuto inherited from Minomato Takeshi, passed down for generations within the Minamato clan; blade is chakra-infused.
Skilled Jutsu:
*Focus on wind-style jutsu, combined with skilled swordsmanship
*Speed is enhanced with wind-chakra
*Weapons are infused with chakra

 

[arbus]

Drip drip drip drip drip drip

Suigetsu had no idea what all the fuss was even about. Well, yes, his skin did look smooth as a newborn's ass and what kind of miracle that was, with the way he went around scowling like that. There, even in his sleep. This should leave lines in his face, wrinkles, but one day he'd wake up and find himself looking like that breed of dogs, those with the ah the overlapping skin come on what's it called

Suigetsu wrinkled his nose in frustration, almost touching Sasuke's. His face hovered inches above the other's pale features, close enough to study the dark lashes and -- hey not even the onset of a pimple, how's that even fair -- and he must be dog tired if he did not yet attempt to slice Suigetsu's throat.

Ah! Shar-Pei, that's the name of the wrinkly dog breed. Suigetsu snorted at the notion that Uchiha Sasuke would one day resemble a Shar-Pei -- they must be the most undignified dogs walking the face of the earth.

drip drip drip drip drip drip drip drip

His hair was still wet from the tank, the strands hanging from both sides of his face, pearls of water hitting Sasuke's cheeks and forehead. Of course, he, Suigestu, did not have to worry about such a mundane thing as wrinkles. His body consisted to ninety-nine percent of water (no matter how vehemently Karin denied it, he knew it for a fact) so he would never grow old and look ... well, old. His brother had been wrinkle-free up until the day he died, and he had been almost in his mid-twenties!

Suigetsu sighed and sat up. He was perched on the rim of the Uchiha's bed, which was extremely uncomfortable, but the bedstead was just so small there wasn't any more space. He really wondered how on earth Karin intended to fit in it, too. But of course all that chit-chat in front of his form, floating in the water and considered unconscious by her and the pink-haired love-interest, had been nothing but idle talk. She would never actually sneak into bed with Sasuke. Much as she'd never up and leave to find him and convince him to

Suigetsu gagged.

make love to her oh my kami let's change the direction of those thoughts, quick. Anyway, the fury just didn't have the nerve. But now the Uchiha was here and had nearly fried him (not nice), and that really irked Suigetsu, who was, of course, a very nice guy (if he wanted to be). So he didn't see how he'd deserve such a treatment from someone he considered an ally.

Unceremoniously he poked Sasuke in the ribs. "Oi, sleeping beauty, wake up!"

 

[Graverobber141]

A sharp, violently passive aggressive hn ripped itself from Sasuke's throat as he was rudely pulled from his deep, black slumber, one of those that stretched within an abyss of empty thought and submission to exhaustion. Charcoal eyes snapping open groggily, brows lowering in annoyance, as that not-so-subtle and usual scowl of his took over his features, Sasuke shot Suigetsu a look that could have cut.

"Suigetsu," he muttered, sitting up in bed.

With the low, warm flames from the fire causing shadows to dance across his pale face, Sasuke ran a few fingers through his hair, before settling his gaze on his intruder. And with the haze of being unceremoniously drug from the waters of his unconscious clearing from his mind, he registered who exactly that intruder was: Suigetsu, who seemed well enough to drag himself into Sasuke's room, to the edge of his bed, just to wake him and annoy him. A relief he hadn't really been expecting washed through Sasuke's mind, that scowl of his diminished in firmness, and he was looking away, as if trying to hide the fact that he did, indeed, care about his former teammate's wellbeing.

"You're not dead." The observation was his way of saying: 'I'm glad you're not dead.' He hadn't wanted to put the swordsman in such a state, but the sudden battle had blurred understanding, and he had acted to protect his companions in the best way he had been able, with the limited information he had on hand.

Clearing his throat, keeping his eyes firmly focused on something besides Suigetsu, because what he was about to say checked his precious ego considerably, he actually offered an apology in a single, hastily uttered word: "Sorry." And then in an attempt not to linger on it, he snapped his eyes back onto the swordsman in question, adding, "You shouldn't have jumped me like that. What the hell where you doing chasing after Ari, anyways?"

 

[arbus]

„Wow, you really are a prodigy. So perceptive.“ Suigetsu was not one to hold grudges — too strenuous, and probably would require a lot of paperwork with his lifestyle — but he was disgruntled nonetheless and made no attempt to hide it. The first step of his revenge for being grilled into a coma — fried salmon did sound delicious, kami he was hungry — was soaking all of Sasuke‘s sheets with the water-glue liquid he had spent the last couple of days in, an especially stinky concoction courtesy of Orochimaru, designed to promote his body‘s natural healing properties.

„For your information, as you ask so nicely“, he put a special kind of intonation on that last word, fitting to the shark‘s grin he flashed his former teammate, „I only chased after that fox because his mother asked me to! All I wanted to do“, here he put his palms flat against his chest, his grin giving way to a look of incredulity, „was reunite the little family.“

Yada yada that I ripped apart in the first place yada yada under threat of my life if I didn‘t bring the little bugger back safe to his (devil of a) mother yada yada yada

Suigetsu smiled sweetly. „So where is the little brat anyway?“

Ari was not in sight; he had, some time ago, snuck under the blanket and was now lying against Sasuke‘s ribs, rolled up and snoring lightly.

„Because what I said earlier still stands, Sasuke!“, Suigetsu jabbed his index finger against Sasuke‘s chest — with the way he sat all groggy and cute, add to that Suigetsu’s righteous indignation, he felt he had a right to do it. „I won‘t allow you to harbor all the power in the world. Leave something for us normal folk, dude. A guy‘s gotta make a living somehow, okay? Just because you‘re wandering around all humble and in rags doesn‘t mean the rest of the world ought to. Times are good for bounty hunting, but to fry the real big fish“, at the pun he shot Sasuke an especially complacent look, „one needs to become more powerful.“ He sniffed. „And apology accepted. I should‘ve probably not attacked without a warning first, but you had me really pissed there for a second.“

 

[Graverobber141]

The finger prodding against his chest, which Sasuke slowly, irritably pushed away, the bodily fluids--Sasuke wanted to gag at that thought, and would now refer to the liquid only as water--Suigetsu was ruining his bed with (hn) and had left dripping down his face (ohkamino), which Sasuke seemed only just now to become aware of, as he lifted his arm to wipe it away, the sudden rude awakening, and now Suigetsu's irking words: all worked wonders to wipe away any regret or guilt lingering in Sasuke's mind about the swordsman's previously critical condition, instead leaving pure irritation in its wake.

His scowl returned in its full glory, settling into his face like an old, grumpy friend. And with a scoff, completely oblivious to the irony and hypocrisy of his next statement, Sasuke grunted, "They're called words, Suigetsu. With how much you like to talk, I'm surprised you're not better at using them."

Huffing, and to avoid another incident, because he was quite sure that if Suigetsu didn't kill him should another fight occur, Sakura would instead, he went on to explain, "I stumbled upon Ari in a cave, and when I learned that he had been separated from his mother, promised to reunite the two. Which I have. They're both in and about the hideout." Sasuke made no attempt to point out the fox's current location, because he was still weary of Suigetsu's intentions, and he had to admit the warmth felt extremely snugly against his side. "By no means am I trying to hoard any power. I'm not that man anymore." It felt good to assert that, even to someone like the walking headache before him. "I was just helping a child in need."

Then his eyes narrowed, and giving Suigetsu a look in warning, one that said he would be happy to chidori the guy a third time should he still pose any threat to the kitsune, he asked, "You wouldn't be planning to use Ari for your own power gain, would you, Suigetsu?"

 

[arbus]

Wow, for a more or less intelligent person like Sasuke, he really had a hard time grasping the concept of apologizing. But Suigetsu was feeling magnanimous, so he offered one of his big, charming let me eat you alive grins in return. „You know me, Sasuke, I love animals. And foxes are my favorites!"

He scratched his nose and deflated a bit. "Honestly, I don't know about your whole righteous avenger schtick -- I mean, good for you, don't get me wrong, it's cute and all -- it's just, I'd never hurt the little fox, and I think it's demoralizing for you to assume something like that." He gave Sasuke a glance that said: See what you have done. Now I'm demoralized.

"I didn't even intend for him to be here, for heaven's sake! I mean, he just popped up when I summoned the six-tails to ask for a contract. And how was I supposed to know they would panic like that, eh? Eh? That bugger just vamoosed while his mother raised hell!" He scratched the back of his head. "Anyways, I'm glad you found the brat, because she would've bitten my head off. Well, she probably might still want to, anyways, but we had a deal ... if I bring back the brat, she'll let me live. Ta-daa." His grin, impossibly, seemed to widen even more, spreading from ear to ear. "All is well that ends well, right, Sasuke-kun? Now, tell me about that pink-haired girl, does she like fish or something? I want to thank her for saving my ass, after you so carelessly assumed I was some sort of fox-snatching power-hungry monster."

Technically, of course, he fitted all three of those descriptions, but who counted?

 

[Graverobber141]

Sasuke simply stared at Suigetsu, his expression rather unimpressed, apparently indifferent about the alleged demoralization that had occurred. While he admitted he was partly to blame for the damage the both of them had caused each other, he had been acting in self-defense, of course, and he knew that sharp grin of his former partner's well; it hardly inspired confidence in his morality, but he was willing to let Suigetsu have the benefit of the doubt. The swordsman had risked his life for Team Taka a handful of times, after all, which suggested that his bark was a lot worse than his actual bite.

It wasn't until the mention of a certain pink-haired girl, however, that Sasuke's attention perked. Eyes narrowing slightly, he studied Suigetsu, mind mulling over that question, does she like fish?, trying to discern its meaning, because if he had to deal with another swordsman hitting on her--He stopped that train of thought, scolding himself for the irrationality of it, and what right did he have to get miffed about such things, which could or could not be imagined?

"Her name is Sakura," he explained, "and since she's been working endlessly to take care of the both of us, the best thing you can do to thank her is to let her rest."

Yet that thought of the second swordsman was sticking in the back of his mind, clinging like a shadow of paranoia, because something was off about the situation. If Satoru posed a threat to those he cared about, he wanted to know about it and deal with it. After a pause, Sasuke's tone and expression, if possible, became more serious, as he stated, "There's someone who stopped by to see you. Claimed to be a friend of yours by the name of Satoru."

Carefully, he watched for Suigetsu's reaction, not quite sure what he was expecting.

 

[arbus]

Oblivious to Sasuke‘s scrutiny — and his admonitory words — Suigetsu hit his flat hand against his forehead, sprinkling a bit of goo on Sasuke in the process. „Of course, that‘s the name Karin muttered with that vicious expression on her face. Her propensity for talking to herself gets really eery at times, let me tell you. Anyways, do you think that Sakura girl likes baked trout? Or maybe scallops? I have a ton of them in the back pond, they‘re delicious.“ He chattered almost as if talking to himself, and after a (rather short) silence he seemed to come to a conclusion. „I‘m just going to give her both, you think she‘ll like that?“

At Sasuke‘s next words, Suigetsu looked up (almost as if he had forgotten Sasuke was there) and suddenly, there was a sparkle to his eyes that hadn‘t been there a moment before. „Satoru‘s here, you say? Ha!“ The laugh was a short bark, like an exclamation mark, triumphant. „That bastard“, he offered fondly, „I knew he‘d want a rematch. I irked him with the backhanded move last time we fought, you see, I used a new stance, I can show you if you like, re-adjusts your balance and with the right timing throws your opponent off-guard ...“

 

[Graverobber141]

Something relaxed within Sasuke, as he listened to Suigetsu rattle on (endlessly it seemed--Sasuke started to tune out, lost in his own thoughts) about his fellow swordsman. He seemed genuinely pleased that the man was here, which meant Satoru actually was a friend. Sasuke didn't know why he had found the story suspicious, or what had unsettled him about the swordsman's sudden appearance, but having his reason for being here confirmed, and perhaps irresponsibly extending a level, a very low level, of trust to Suigetsu's judgement, Sasuke laid his natural paranoia to rest, even if an undefinable feeling (that look in Satoru's eye when he had reached to touch the chokuto: it had been eerily recognizable) still lingered within his gut.

"Hn," Sasuke grunted, as if to interrupt, raising his hand to wipe away the liquid Suigetsu had once again splashed across his face, giving the swordsman a glare. "If you attempt a rematch without letting your body heal first, I can guarantee that Sakura will kill you for undoing her work." And with having settled his paranoia, at his own mentioning of his traveling companion, Sasuke's seemingly permanent scowl fled from his features, and he considered how it would be rather nice if he and Suigetsu (mostly himself) did something, like cook a nice dinner, to thank her for all her effort. "Grab the trout and scallops instead, and I'll help you prepare it." He paused, tilting his head in thought. "What goes well with trout and scallops?"