Chap release time. Special thanks to chakrawizard555 for editing *_* Thanks man!
Itachi woke up extremely early in the morning, as was his custom. At 5:30, while the dew was still fresh on the leaves in the garden, he alighted from bed and sauntered over to the window to catch a view of the light mist that had settled over the small town of Aoran, which consisted almost entirely of dismal buildings of varying height standing gloomily side by side, the streets between them deserted and bare. The sun was hidden somewhere in the sky behind a thick veil of gray, its bright rays having not yet broken through. He then turned his keen, dark eyes downwards towards the bright and beautiful garden on the grounds of the inn. The flowers were gorgeous and diverse in color, and Itachi quirked a smile as he imagined Mitsuki fussing and cooing over the exquisite blossoms.
Itachi’s eyes rested on the small pond which sat at the center of the garden. The water was so clear and serene, he could see a small, scaly fin or some semblance of a gill below its smooth surface, even from the second floor window of the inn. A school of fish swam beneath its surface, one of which leaped out of the water, twisting almost acrobatically in midair before falling back into the depths with a loud ‘thunk’, small ripples spreading out from its landing point. Itachi’s smile deepened at the pleasant view. It was only then that he noticed someone dressed in a red, long-sleeved kimono standing beside the water in what was undoubtedly a battle stance, a long sword drawn and stretched out over the pond. The person stood with his back towards the window from which Itachi observed him but, judging from his spiky, tawny hair and a small glimpse of a thin beard, the Uchiha guessed that it was his roommate Himura. He turned towards the other bed in the room and found that it was vacant, the comforter a scattered mess, thus confirming his suspicion.
It was no secret that Sarutobi Himura was the best swordsman amongst the ANBU, his skill in the art having earned him the intriguing epithet, the Angel of Death. Itachi himself had gone on only one other mission with Himura—the Hikari affair, during which he had caught a glimpse of Himura’s talent with a blade when he clashed with their foe and fellow swordsman Tenkaku. He found the Sarutobi mildly impressive, which was saying something, considering that Itachi had only ever learned to respect and admire the skills of the legendary Uchiha Shisui. So, out of a small desire for entertainment, his boredom mingled with curiosity, Itachi turned his eyes back to the window, peering at the Sarutobi’s training with eyes narrowed in concentration and gleaming with expectation.
For a few seconds, Himura remained ramrod straight, sword drawn and suspended horizontally over the small pond in the Odara Inn garden, standing so still that one might have thought him a imposing statue decorating the grounds. Just when Itachi’s interest had begun to fade, and his boredom held sway over his curiosity, Himura’s weapon suddenly donned a remarkable coat of chakra. Itachi watched the blade with rapt attention, his eyes fixed on the chakra surrounding it. The aura was a shocking six feet in length and stretched as wide as the steel rod of Himura’s sword, taking on the shape of a large, thin sickle, the curved head of its ethereal blade directed at the pond below. His sword seemed to be sheathed in a much oversized scabbard of transparent blue chakra.
Himura swung his blade to the left and, much to Itachi’s shock, all the surrounding leaves and trees were inclined in the same direction by a strong gust of wind which seemed to have come from nowhere; even the pond was stirred and some of the water overflowed its bank. The same thing happened when Himura swung the blade to the right; the leaves and trees and the water was forcefully pushed in the same direction as the weapon. Then, the Sarutobi lifted his chakra-coated sword and slammed it into the pool.
The effect was astounding.
There was a violent splash which sent stinging droplets of water across the surrounding garden as the sword bore down on the pond, a squall so powerful that its liquid contents were divided cleanly in half, some narrow stretch of dry ground visible beneath and flanked on both sides by a duo of tall, swollen heaps of water, which sprayed and splattered as they stood on opposite sides of the pool. The garden also felt the effects of the technique as the wind pushed against the earth, flattening the grass which grew upon it, and causing the trees and trimmed bushes all around it to stoop downwards, as if paying obeisance to the divided waters, the chakra-coated sword, and Sarutobi Himura.
While everything around Himura bowed to him in submission, Itachi watched on—eyes widened and brows raised—from the recess of the mullioned window, on the sill of which he rested his hands. The spectacle continued for the next few seconds, ending abruptly when Himura sheathed his blade in one lightning-quick motion. In a brief moment, the aura of chakra around him vanished, the wind mellowed, the garden calmed, the pool became smooth and sedate, and all was quiet and silent once more. Itachi was in the process of analyzing the technique displayed when he heard a sharp knock at the door.
“Open up. Itachi, Himura.” someone called from outside the room. It was Hoji’s soft and gentle voice, but it was a bit lower and more of a lazy drawl than usual. Itachi sauntered over to the door and swung it open. The medical-nin leaned tiredly against the door frame, dressed in shorts and a tight fitting T shirt, his hair a shaggy mess, his eyes dim and sunken with dark circles beneath them. Clearly, he had not gotten enough sleep.
“Shiko,” Hoji said, pausing to yawn and smack his lips, “Shiko wants to see us.”
Itachi nodded silently and Hoji took his leave, dragging his bare feet down the hall to Shiko’s room. He watched the weary figure retreat from the room with mild sympathy. The medical-nin had probably worried himself all night and, thus, neglected to sleep. At least, that was Itachi’s guess, but considering that he was a genius amongst the members his clan, he was probably right. The Uchiha went over to the window and called out to Himura, passing on Hoji’s message to the Sarutobi, who nodded and began heading upstairs.
The two roommates immediately ambled down the hall to Room 37, where they were welcomed in by Hoji, who was still but a shadow of his usual jocund self. The actual owners of this room, Tenzo and Shiko, were also present. The latter was reposed on his bed in boxer shorts and a vest, his long hair loosened and scattered around his head, his eyes wide, vacant and turned towards the ceiling, and his lips quivering as he muttered something to himself, while the former was in a sky-blue yukata, leaning against the wall nearest the window. Half of his broad frame was illuminated by the dull morning light streaming from the window, which cast a feeble shadow over the other half of his being.
Sato was seated at the foot of Shiko’s bed, clad in white robes, looking nearly as haggard as Hoji. However, it was not due to anxiety and lack of sleep, but simply because he was very much not a morning person and particularly enjoyed his slumber. His eyes were conspicuously bloodshot, in contrast to their typical pure whiteness. He was rocking back-and-forth, desperately fighting the temptation to drift off to sleep and collapse on the floor right then and
there, a sight which Itachi actually found quite amusing. He wanted to chuckle, but now was not the time.
Shiko rose from the bed and his deep-set, grey, almond-shaped eyes settled on the two shinobi who had just entered the room. “You’re both here.” he drawled as he ran his eyes across the faces of his assembled subordinates. “Anyways, I wanted to discuss our game plan for the mission. Today is all about info gathering. We’ll be hitting the streets of Aoran and interviewing people about Akakuma. What they know, what they’ve heard, whatever they can tell us, whether rumor or fact, is of great importance. I will personally be interviewing Kato and will also head down to the local hospital to inspect the corpses of the Chunnin that were killed. Hoji,” he turned to the sleepy Senju, “I might need you there to give a medical-nin’s opinion, so come by at about 2:30 in the afternoon. We’ll meet at the Yaku Restaurant at 3:00 PM to discuss our findings.”
“Yaku Restaurant? Where’s that?” inquired Tenzo.
“I saw it while I was on my morning walk. It's just down the street from here. Can’t miss it.” replied Shiko.
“Anyways, you’re all dismissed.”
They all slowly filed out of the room until only Tenzo and Shiko remained, heading back to their own lodgings to prepare themselves for the task of the new day.
To Be Continued.
Itachi woke up extremely early in the morning, as was his custom. At 5:30, while the dew was still fresh on the leaves in the garden, he alighted from bed and sauntered over to the window to catch a view of the light mist that had settled over the small town of Aoran, which consisted almost entirely of dismal buildings of varying height standing gloomily side by side, the streets between them deserted and bare. The sun was hidden somewhere in the sky behind a thick veil of gray, its bright rays having not yet broken through. He then turned his keen, dark eyes downwards towards the bright and beautiful garden on the grounds of the inn. The flowers were gorgeous and diverse in color, and Itachi quirked a smile as he imagined Mitsuki fussing and cooing over the exquisite blossoms.
Itachi’s eyes rested on the small pond which sat at the center of the garden. The water was so clear and serene, he could see a small, scaly fin or some semblance of a gill below its smooth surface, even from the second floor window of the inn. A school of fish swam beneath its surface, one of which leaped out of the water, twisting almost acrobatically in midair before falling back into the depths with a loud ‘thunk’, small ripples spreading out from its landing point. Itachi’s smile deepened at the pleasant view. It was only then that he noticed someone dressed in a red, long-sleeved kimono standing beside the water in what was undoubtedly a battle stance, a long sword drawn and stretched out over the pond. The person stood with his back towards the window from which Itachi observed him but, judging from his spiky, tawny hair and a small glimpse of a thin beard, the Uchiha guessed that it was his roommate Himura. He turned towards the other bed in the room and found that it was vacant, the comforter a scattered mess, thus confirming his suspicion.
It was no secret that Sarutobi Himura was the best swordsman amongst the ANBU, his skill in the art having earned him the intriguing epithet, the Angel of Death. Itachi himself had gone on only one other mission with Himura—the Hikari affair, during which he had caught a glimpse of Himura’s talent with a blade when he clashed with their foe and fellow swordsman Tenkaku. He found the Sarutobi mildly impressive, which was saying something, considering that Itachi had only ever learned to respect and admire the skills of the legendary Uchiha Shisui. So, out of a small desire for entertainment, his boredom mingled with curiosity, Itachi turned his eyes back to the window, peering at the Sarutobi’s training with eyes narrowed in concentration and gleaming with expectation.
For a few seconds, Himura remained ramrod straight, sword drawn and suspended horizontally over the small pond in the Odara Inn garden, standing so still that one might have thought him a imposing statue decorating the grounds. Just when Itachi’s interest had begun to fade, and his boredom held sway over his curiosity, Himura’s weapon suddenly donned a remarkable coat of chakra. Itachi watched the blade with rapt attention, his eyes fixed on the chakra surrounding it. The aura was a shocking six feet in length and stretched as wide as the steel rod of Himura’s sword, taking on the shape of a large, thin sickle, the curved head of its ethereal blade directed at the pond below. His sword seemed to be sheathed in a much oversized scabbard of transparent blue chakra.
Himura swung his blade to the left and, much to Itachi’s shock, all the surrounding leaves and trees were inclined in the same direction by a strong gust of wind which seemed to have come from nowhere; even the pond was stirred and some of the water overflowed its bank. The same thing happened when Himura swung the blade to the right; the leaves and trees and the water was forcefully pushed in the same direction as the weapon. Then, the Sarutobi lifted his chakra-coated sword and slammed it into the pool.
The effect was astounding.
There was a violent splash which sent stinging droplets of water across the surrounding garden as the sword bore down on the pond, a squall so powerful that its liquid contents were divided cleanly in half, some narrow stretch of dry ground visible beneath and flanked on both sides by a duo of tall, swollen heaps of water, which sprayed and splattered as they stood on opposite sides of the pool. The garden also felt the effects of the technique as the wind pushed against the earth, flattening the grass which grew upon it, and causing the trees and trimmed bushes all around it to stoop downwards, as if paying obeisance to the divided waters, the chakra-coated sword, and Sarutobi Himura.
While everything around Himura bowed to him in submission, Itachi watched on—eyes widened and brows raised—from the recess of the mullioned window, on the sill of which he rested his hands. The spectacle continued for the next few seconds, ending abruptly when Himura sheathed his blade in one lightning-quick motion. In a brief moment, the aura of chakra around him vanished, the wind mellowed, the garden calmed, the pool became smooth and sedate, and all was quiet and silent once more. Itachi was in the process of analyzing the technique displayed when he heard a sharp knock at the door.
“Open up. Itachi, Himura.” someone called from outside the room. It was Hoji’s soft and gentle voice, but it was a bit lower and more of a lazy drawl than usual. Itachi sauntered over to the door and swung it open. The medical-nin leaned tiredly against the door frame, dressed in shorts and a tight fitting T shirt, his hair a shaggy mess, his eyes dim and sunken with dark circles beneath them. Clearly, he had not gotten enough sleep.
“Shiko,” Hoji said, pausing to yawn and smack his lips, “Shiko wants to see us.”
Itachi nodded silently and Hoji took his leave, dragging his bare feet down the hall to Shiko’s room. He watched the weary figure retreat from the room with mild sympathy. The medical-nin had probably worried himself all night and, thus, neglected to sleep. At least, that was Itachi’s guess, but considering that he was a genius amongst the members his clan, he was probably right. The Uchiha went over to the window and called out to Himura, passing on Hoji’s message to the Sarutobi, who nodded and began heading upstairs.
The two roommates immediately ambled down the hall to Room 37, where they were welcomed in by Hoji, who was still but a shadow of his usual jocund self. The actual owners of this room, Tenzo and Shiko, were also present. The latter was reposed on his bed in boxer shorts and a vest, his long hair loosened and scattered around his head, his eyes wide, vacant and turned towards the ceiling, and his lips quivering as he muttered something to himself, while the former was in a sky-blue yukata, leaning against the wall nearest the window. Half of his broad frame was illuminated by the dull morning light streaming from the window, which cast a feeble shadow over the other half of his being.
Sato was seated at the foot of Shiko’s bed, clad in white robes, looking nearly as haggard as Hoji. However, it was not due to anxiety and lack of sleep, but simply because he was very much not a morning person and particularly enjoyed his slumber. His eyes were conspicuously bloodshot, in contrast to their typical pure whiteness. He was rocking back-and-forth, desperately fighting the temptation to drift off to sleep and collapse on the floor right then and
there, a sight which Itachi actually found quite amusing. He wanted to chuckle, but now was not the time.
Shiko rose from the bed and his deep-set, grey, almond-shaped eyes settled on the two shinobi who had just entered the room. “You’re both here.” he drawled as he ran his eyes across the faces of his assembled subordinates. “Anyways, I wanted to discuss our game plan for the mission. Today is all about info gathering. We’ll be hitting the streets of Aoran and interviewing people about Akakuma. What they know, what they’ve heard, whatever they can tell us, whether rumor or fact, is of great importance. I will personally be interviewing Kato and will also head down to the local hospital to inspect the corpses of the Chunnin that were killed. Hoji,” he turned to the sleepy Senju, “I might need you there to give a medical-nin’s opinion, so come by at about 2:30 in the afternoon. We’ll meet at the Yaku Restaurant at 3:00 PM to discuss our findings.”
“Yaku Restaurant? Where’s that?” inquired Tenzo.
“I saw it while I was on my morning walk. It's just down the street from here. Can’t miss it.” replied Shiko.
“Anyways, you’re all dismissed.”
They all slowly filed out of the room until only Tenzo and Shiko remained, heading back to their own lodgings to prepare themselves for the task of the new day.
To Be Continued.
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