XII

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Arc XII Chapter 13

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Asami and Kakashi. Two jonin. Two former ANBU. Two former ANBU Captains. Two veterans. Their kunai interlocked in a tight grip. Blade met blade. Metal met metal.

 

“...” Asami’s lips formed a smile, her kunai slowly cutting through his kunai, her chakra slowly grinding through his chakra. Her purple plasma shone with the brilliance of a star, invincible. As usual, it was the strength of her chakra to prevail, despite his most sincere efforts. Kakashi fought. He fought. His chakra fought. “Kakashi, you appear to be hard pressed, unless I am mistaken~.” Her taunt proved ineffectual, eliciting no reaction from her experienced enemy.

 

“... ... ...” Kakashi gritted his teeth, much less in a talkative mood. What a shame. “...”

 

Hers and his stares interlocked. Their eyes crossed, purple, dark grey and the red shade of his sole legendary sharingan. Kakashi ... The wielder of the infamous sharingan ...

 

He had removed his eye patch, revealing his prized treasure, his sharingan. A prized treasure it was. It was given to him by his fallen comrade in arms. It was a beautiful eye. A deep, crimson shade. Three proud black tomoe. It was a mature sharingan. It was ripe. Full of power. Unless her eyes deceived her, his eye even had awakened what was considered forbidden. It showed traces of a power familiar. The unmistakable powers of the mangekyou slumbered within it.  

 

Not that such a meagre power would save him. His mastery of his eye was found subpar.  Admirable, yet falling short of her expectations. Such facts had not escaped the keenness of her instinct. His sharingan was found lacking in so many aspects, but what else could be expected of a mere pretender, made the heir of a legacy not his own.

 

It showed. Unlike her, Kakashi was never born an Uchiha, but rather chosen by the vagrancies of fate. Even so, the eye rejected him. The eye defied him even after all these years. The sharingan refused to obey one not of her blood. The eye strained his stamina. The eye strained his chakra reserves.

 

Asami giggled, deigning to offer a rare instance of praise. Her curiosity, her interest in his sharingan had not escaped Kakashi. “A sharingan ... Such a rare sight these days …”

 

Kakashi narrowed his eyes. “A rare sight indeed ... Yet you hardly seem surprised.”

 

Asami giggled, armed with a beaming grin. “How true~. Well, let's say, they are a sight that I have grown accustomed to. I am certainly no stranger to the allure they hold. Not when the butcher of the Uchiha clan walks among us.” Her words lingered, producing the desired effect, even when more was said than strictly necessary.

 

Kakashi narrowed his eyes. “Him ... I understand.”  

 

This was her opportunity. Asami doubled her efforts, her chakra flaring up, invigorating the purple coat of heated plasma surrounding her kunai.

 

“...” Kakashi’s eyes widened. His body reacted now that it was already too late ...

 

The clattering sound of wood gave Asami pause. It was a sound that she had come to know throughout the years, once reminiscent of Sunagakure. It was the puppeteers and their puppets. The creaking, clicking, groaning, grinding cacophony of moving jaws and joints. They were coming for her, and they were closing in.

 

Asami glanced sideways, spotting a pair of puppets approaching her, their wooden frames and inhuman nature covered by a set of long coats.

 

The puppets deployed their blades, directly extending from their arms, prepared to cut her down and quite likely laced with deadly poison. Par for the course for any puppeteer of renown. Of course, it was the old woman who commanded them. It was her pulling the strings from behind the scenes, her chakra threads skilfully controlling her creations. Two puppets, both clad in matching black fur lined robes. Two nameless wooden husks without defining features beyond the simplest of contours. They looked and felt like the cheapest of cheap mass production models. Because they were.

 

The old woman noticed her stare. Her gaze hardened. “Take this! You Akatsuki bastards should never have messed with Sunagakure! Old though I am, I will show you why I was once hailed as the greatest puppeteer under the desert sun!”

 

Asami disengaged instantly, evading. Obviously, being bisected alive was a thought she was hardly eager to entertain, nor was the poison coating their blades. Their blades missed, their sharp edges cutting the air, passing directly before her eyes. It was a close call. Closer than she would have liked to admit.

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Pain’s gaze wandered across the dark expanse of the cave, targeting a certain flickering silhouette, a certain shark toothed companion. Kisame had returned from his mission with modest success, much to their leader’s apparent displeasure. His monotone, lifeless voice betrayed his thinly veiled irritation and short temper. Pain had never been one to tolerate failure. “Kisame ... You have returned earlier than expected ... What happened? Were you defeated?” 

 

Kisame grinned, uncaring of the accusations levelled against him. “They were strong. Far stronger than expected.”  

 

Pain nodded. “I see ... How disappointing. Not that it matters, though. The ritual is proceeding smoothly. The essence of the One Tail will be sealed soon at this rate.” Streams of extracted chakra were extracted from the Kazekage’s body, only to be devoured by the giant Gedo Mazo Statue.

 

Kisame smiled. “And what about our little princess? Hope they don't cause you too much trouble, Asami. You know what a stubborn bunch you Konoha-nin are.”

 

“...” Asami ignored Kisame, her eyes closed, her hands forming a seal. Her attention was spread rather thin at the present moment, with little room to spare. The sealing ritual, the fight against Kakashi and his companions, processing the stolen essence of the One Tail, all of these demanded her attention. “...”

 

“No response ...” Kisame flashed his teeth. “You wound me, Asami.” 

 

“... ... ...” Asami maintained her silence. No reaction, whatsoever.

 

Kisame shrugged his shoulders, slightly disappointed. “Oh, well, I guess our little princess has her hands full at the moment. Nothing we can do. How are things going on her end, Zetsu?” His gaze shifted.

 

“...” Ever the dutiful scout and subordinate, Zetsu obliged to report, his considerably more perceptive black half speaking. “The enemy outnumbers her five to one, yet they appear to be equally matched. Thus far, at least. I predict that her superior skill and ability will allow her to slowly gain the upper hand. In my opinion, their defeat is only a matter of time.”

  

“Impressive”, Kisame commented. “Wouldn't you agree, Itachi?

 

 “... ... ...” Itachi, however, was silent.

 

Meanwhile, Pain agreed. “I am pleased to hear so, though I recommend you to hurry, Asami. Time is of the essence.”

 

Asami furrowed her eyebrow, the majority of her attention still dedicated to the ongoing battle, remote as it might be. “How so? The fight is far from over.”

 

Pain conceded, “Such might be true. Unfortunately, though, the jutsu is already reaching its limits. You are consuming his chakra at an alarming rate. I don't expect his body to last much longer. You are on the clock, Asami.” 

 

“... ... ...” Asami clicked her tongue, her consternation showing. “I understand ... I will see what I can do.”

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