Author's Note:Any Japanese-esque stuff you don't understand is probably at the references at the end, provided by a wide variety of sources. I appreciate everyone's patience with this update, and I'm happy to say I know exactly how I'm going to end JLT: I know you'll love it :)

Also, I'm highly disappointed that no one called me out on misspelling Kisame's surname this entire time. I feel like a complete loser. Oh, and if there's any grammar error's and the like, just ignore it and pretend I'm perfect at writing. If any of you are actually interested enough to be curious about what happened with Katsu, well, I'm happy you actually care enough to wonder. That'll be explained in a later chapter, as will a few other things.

I would like to specifically thank three different people:

1) My very good friend Maria, who has been here for me to either advise or listen to my ramblings about this fanfic. She's writing a very lovely original story of her own, to which I will provide a link to in my next chapter if anyone's interested.

2) Riley Killer, who has been there since the beginning and who's reviews always, always motivate me to update. Speaking of which, doll, I read your own update and haven't grabbed a chance to review, but I will soon. It was awesome, but thoroughly frustrating.

3) Triggerspec, because when I looked back at your last review I couldn't help but laugh. Don't worry, I'm sure you're not missing all that much. Maybe I'll go back at one point and comment on some things.

By the way, the following quote is my own, regardless of similarities it might hold, and is my own personal philosophy.

Enjoy.

There is no good or evil…

Only perspective.

She is looking down at the man looking up, neither understanding, nor misunderstanding the positions they take. Maybe, if perhaps they had conceded earlier, the positions might've been on equal footing. Maybe there would have been three others beside them, a picture of pacifying tranquility. Maybe there would have been a conjoined pair from the king and queen, and a three of hearts rather than the two of spades.

But that's not what happened, is it?

The door slammed suddenly, dragging Saya out of her mid-afternoon nap and sufficiently jarring her into a state of confusion. She heard not-so distant grumbles, a careless curse or two, and then another slam. Groaning, she threw an arm over her eyes to shield them from the glaring sunlight that dipped in from a surprisingly large window on her right.

The hotel room she currently occupied was relatively clean, a jewel in the scum of the usual places she'd been in as of late. There was even a TV shoved into one corner, its old antennae bent and crooked as was the lone picture on the far wall. It smelt strongly, almost overwhelmingly, of tea leaves and mint, compliments of the medicine shop downstairs. With another groan she lifted herself up and lightly rubbed the sleep from her eyes, taking slow, easy breaths in order to dispel what she could of her dreams.

Another loud clang, this time followed by shattering glass, finally caught enough of her attention. "Oi, Okama, what's with all the noise?" The drowsiness was still too evident in her voice to make the comment as biting as she'd intended, but she was graced with an almost immediate answer from the partially hidden hall.

"Shut up and go back to sleep," said the man from the hallway, cursing under his breath again as he hopped over what appeared to be a broken vase on the wood floor.

"Who could sleep when you're making all this racket?" She watched as he sucked on his teeth, an all too familiar gesture now, and turned to her with a hand on his hip.

"Tsk, it's not my fault this room is so cheap."

"Maybe it's not so much the room's shabbiness as it is you're inability to do anything quietly," she muttered throwing herself back onto her side.

Sho was not a patient man. In fact, when it came to Saya, he had no patience whatsoever. Her lackadaisical behavior and careless nature rubbed his own straightforward demeanor the wrong way. And while he was not so even-tempered, he was forgiving even less. So when the sarcastic quips slid out of Saya's mouth, as they so often did, it was only natural that he should make a scene out of it...if not completely blow the whole situation out of proportion.

"Excuse me? Me, not quiet? You have no room to talk, Ms. Akaname," he said, referring to her boisterous rant and singing from a few nights ago, pointing at her and then twitching when he saw she wasn't listening in the least. "You better straighten out your drinking before Uchiha-san and Hoshigaki-san get here, otherwise they'll know something's up, and I'm not going to be the one covering for you."

"Shotaro, if I was drunk, you'd know it," she said blandly, sighing through a huff.

"I've told you over and over again, baka-onna, my name is not Shotaro, it's Sho. Just Sho." He stomped over to a worn out dresser near the window, snatching what was a thickly woven scarf that nearly slid off the dulled edge. With nimble fingers, he tied it around his neck in a heap, adjusting it slightly before peeking one eye at Saya's form. She appeared at peace, her eyes closed gently against smooth skin and thin-fingered hands cushioning her head. Grinning wickedly, he yanked the string to open the blinds, showering her in a field of gold arrays, blindingly brilliant for the time of day. He kept his back to her, snickering at what he imagined her face would look like.

She lazily opened her eyes and stared squarely at him, clearly not amused.

"Shotaro..."she drawled. There was a brief pause and a muted shuffle, something that sounded hauntingly familiar. "I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but it looks like your scarf's on fire."

He looked back around to her, puzzled, "What?"

"I said your scarf is on fire," she turned over, facing away from him as the sharp, smoky scent of burning tickled his nostrils. He looked down to find that the end of his scarf was indeed set aflame, albeit a very small one, and climbing quickly up the folds of fabric. With a strangled cry, he bat it out with fluttering fingers, a frustrated and vile sneer being directed at Saya's guilty back.

When the flame was out, he inspected the damage and with a relived sigh, he noted that his accessory would live. "I'm pretty sure Hoshigaki-san said that you were only to use that seal in emergencies," Sho referred to the simple twisted pattern residing on the inside of Saya's wrist.

"I'm not so weak as to rely on that for a simple Katon, Shotaro."

"It's Sho."

This had been a habit they'd quickly dipped into not long after Saya had been left in Sho's care. Had it already been seven months since her departure from the pair of Shuten-dōji?

"…the hell?"

Sho looked from between his partner to the three across from him in utter disbelief, his eyes blinking with heavy lashes. "W-what is this all about? What do you mean I have to…to babysit this…ugh!" He threw his arms up in a heave of exaggerated breaths, turning to glare at Sasori with burning hatred, despite the ragged and intimidating puppet he wore. "You're joking. This is a joke, isn't it?"

"No, it's not. And it's an order from the top, so get over it," Kisame shrugged, letting his gaze drop from the flamboyantly dressed Sho to Saya, who stood not far off his right. In a manner of speaking, Sho's wardrobe had doubled in its ostentatious array. The netting he'd wore still clung to his lean muscle underneath his Akatsuki cloak; however, the cloak itself looked as if it had been completely remodeled, the sleeves dipping into long, wide cuffs along the wrists, and the buttons along the middle replaced with purple gems. The collar flared outwards, allowing the large, glittering necklace Sho was wearing to stand out against his rather pallid skin.

It seemed as though since the contract had been made, and now that he was in public, Sho had decided to also apply a heavy sheen of make-up. Shimmering purple eye shadow surrounded each of his eyes, and if not for the shade of the purple, they might've seemed like bruises. Fake gold eyelashes danced as he blinked, still speechless from the news Kisame threw upon him. His lips, too, were coated with a liquid bronze, matching the copious earrings adorning each of his ears, though, some looked like they held small rubies and sapphires as well.

"When I said I wouldn't mind abdicating for a smaller position, I sure as hell didn't mean chaperoning this idiot," he continued. "I thought maybe collecting profit, keeping thugs in line...things like that. Why does she even need to be watched anyway? She's a grown-ass woman."

"Bite your tongue," Sasori growled. "Don't question your superiors when tasked with something you dislike. Or would you prefer to be fully removed from performing services for Akatsuki?" The hunched puppet eyed him inquisitively, waiting for some rebuttal.

"I-" Sho started, but deliberated to settle over a softer, calmer tone. "You better not expect me to pay for her living expenses and get docked pay."

"You won't," Itachi stated, "Sayuri will be given a calculated sum that she can utilize as she likes. And you will be traveling, taking stock of our associations and contacts. Sayuri will merely be shadowing you."

"Tch, shadows aren't nearly as chatty," Sho muttered.

"You have no idea, gaki," Kisame grinned, duly noting that Saya seemed to puff up with indigence. "And you know it's the truth, onna, so don't you start."

"You're acting entirely too friendly, Hoshigaki," she shook her head, rubbing the side of her face with an open palm.

Seven months...that would make her battle with Katsu a little less than two years ago. Itachi, Kisame and Saya had reported back to Pein not long after, handing over the sealed jinchuuriki and taking yet another assignment. They'd visited a few other stations, giving orders and recording the news each contact had to report. Well, Saya more or less just followed them around like a lost puppy, much to her distaste. After the first two stops she'd decided she needed to find a new hobby, something that didn't end up with her kicking some idiot's shins or yanking out their hair because they assumed way too much concerning her presence with the other two men. Instead, she found herself making a quick ryo or two performing odd jobs, considering they were usually in a single place for at least a handful of days.

Her favorite thus far had been assisting a bakery owner with menial tasks, like sweeping up loose flour and taking out the trash. The smells that came wafting out of that place were mouthwatering, and the older woman was quite agreeable with her free smiles and kind conversations. As was the younger woman who worked there part-time, though, she wasn't nearly as forthcoming as the woman, Mrs. Yui. In fact the young woman, more of a girl in actuality, said absolutely nothing the entire time Saya had been present. She'd strongly reminded Saya of Yin, with her blank expression and slow, precise movements. Mrs. Yui had told her that the young girl hadn't a family, and that she'd come to work at the bakery at a very young age in order to provide for herself. In fact, Mrs. Yui was contemplating handing over the store to her, as she had no children of her own and was getting a little too old for the work. Regardless, that village in Vegetable Country had been incredibly peaceful.

It was hard to imagine that Akatsuki had spies even in such a quiet place like that.

All the while they'd been traveling Saya had gotten into the routine of sparring with both Kisame as well as Itachi. It had taken some teasing and meddling on her part to finally get the Uchiha to acquiesce, but it had been well worth the effort. Because to be perfectly honest, while Saya had known that Uchiha's were a force to be reckoned with, particularly because the nature of their bloodline, she had no idea just how gifted the young shinobi actually was. It was no wonder that he was classed so high in the Bingo book, and she swiftly found that, as experienced as she was, she was no match for the likes of him. It made her wonder just how much he'd been holding back the whole time she'd been in his acquaintance. And though she probably should have been, she found that the knowledge of his expertise, at such a young age, didn't trample on her pride as a shinobi at all.

She enjoyed their combat exercises, and the use of her katanas was as refreshing as slipping on a favorite pair of boots. She often found she could hold her ground when it came to swordsmanship against Hoshigaki, but anything beyond that and she was at a major disadvantage, considering her handicap. Even after her battle with Katsu, Hoshigaki had decided to leave the branded seal on her wrist, saying nothing when she questioned him about it. The only thing she could get out of him was a stern warning that she should only utilize it in dire emergencies, because he had no intention of becoming her chakra bank. She had smirked at that, the warning a distant echo of what he'd told her when she'd fought against Jushiro back when they'd been traveling to Omashu.

It was a funny thing...Hoshigaki, that is. When Saya'd first made his acquaintance on that stretch of beach, she'd immediately pinned him as just a bundle of muscle, though his status in the Bingo book had said otherwise: She'd taken it upon herself to look up all the Akatsuki members in the Imatsura Clan's library before they'd left the compound, deeming it a fairly intelligent idea considering she didn't really know too much about any single one of them. The library was a stockpile of greatly valued information, as well as utterly useless details that not even Saya could say she could exploit. The provided information on Akatsuki had been pathetically scarce, which truly said something about the secrecy it currently resided behind, but she'd been able to pick up on tidbits of details so she had a better idea of who the criminal organization comprised of and when it had approximately appeared...it seemed Katsu had been gathering a lot of information under the table according to his records, just as she'd presumed. She briefly wondered who he made deals with, and what they gained in stead of this information other than a twisted form of political asylum.

The material on Akatsuki was a vague historical documentation involving the previous ninja war and something about Amegakure, and that there'd been sightings of scattered cloaked members, which was basically what she'd already known (And if you happen to be wondering just how our beloved Saya might know such things, then that would be a very good question, wouldn't it?). A small list of names, not nearly adding up to all the men she'd noticed in the cavern, were scrawled on the documents, one of them being Hoshigaki himself. There wasn't any personal information on any one of them on the file, so she'd had to sift through stacks of records in order to find their individual criminal records. She skimmed over one on a man called 'Kakuzu' from Takigakure, then another on a man from Yugakure, though there wasn't much on the latter. Of course Itachi's name was listed, as was another man's from Konoha. When she'd quickly glanced over said man's picture she felt a frigid shiver tickle the back of her neck, and even rubbing it couldn't completely wipe away the feeling that seemed to slither down her spine. She'd saved Hoshigaki's for last, it being nearly as thick as that of the man from Takigakure:

Name: Hoshigaki Kisame

Alias: Kirigakure no Kaijin

Gender: M

DOB: March 18th

Age: 24

She'd paused and blinked, looking over the listed age once more just to make sure she'd read it right. That fish-face...he'd completely lied right to her face, saying he was thirty! It was at this revelation that a bleak thought entered her mind. Ugh, that means I'm actually older than him.

She continued with lethargic limbs.

Village: Kirigakure

Clan: N/A

Rank: S

Listed Positions:

Cypher Division

Seven Swordsmen of the Mist

A few other bits and pieces followed, mostly just documentation of his targets and some assignments, and then big, bold, and red was: MISSING NIN.

She curiously thought of what her file might contain.

She had committed what she'd read to memory, easily storing away the data for later usage, whatever that usage might evoke. It didn't reveal too much to her, but honestly she hadn't been expecting anything from the endeavor.

So it was safe to say that from the time she'd spent with both men on their travels, she'd come to know more about Uchiha Itachi and Hoshigaki Kisame than the majority of the shinobi in possession of either of their files. That wasn't to say she knew everything there was to know about the two of them, but she'd garnered enough for her liking.

And just what might that entail, do you wonder?

Nothing of worthy consequence.

Saya hadn't concluded much of anything concerning the details of their past, nor what they might aspire for the future. She knew nothing of their families, what might have caused the Uchiha genocide, or the reason for Hoshigaki's defection.

But...

Hoshigaki, she came to recognize, highly enjoyed crab, and especially anything with shrimp. On most occasions, when they'd stop at a place serving sea food, he would order tempura or sashimi, something Saya had poked fun at him for, much to his indifference.

"Ne, Hoshigaki, you really are a shark, aren't you?" Saya asked asked listlessly, cupping the side of her face and leaning lowly onto the table. A steaming plate filled with a blend of rice and fried tempura sat in front of the mentioned shinobi, another plate soon following it to sit before Itachi. His plate was loaded with mochi and dango, with a smaller bowl of soba. She made a face at his food, looking up at the man before lowering her gaze to eye the amass of sweet food.

"You are stranger than you look, Uchiha," she murmured. Too engrossed with his food selection, she missed the twitch of his lips as be broke apart his chop sticks, inclining his head minutely before beginning to eat. The young man serving them slid a bowl in her view, the smell of imoni heavy in her empty stomach. It was a bit out of place, and hadn't been on the menu, but she'd requested it all the same and the cook had been in a good enough mood to comply. She lazily picked up her own pair of chop sticks, the server quickly catching on that none of them were about to communicate their thanks to him. He muttered something under his breath before shoving the serving platter under his arm and stalking away moodily.

In mid-chew, Saya began talking to them, asking if they could take the west road out of the village so she could visit the temple she'd heard about from the locals.

"Don't talk with yer mouth full," Kisame butted in, not even looking up from the table. She shot him a caustic look, snapping her jaw shut and chewing what was left in large, laborious bites. Then, in a moment that spoke volumes of her rebellious nature, she stuck her tongue, slathered with saliva and potato, out at him. A tendon in his jaw ticked as he closed his eyes, ignoring her completely inane display that drew slight attention to their table. She watched his reaction from behind half-lidded eyes, slurping back up the goop, swallowing it daintily, and stabbing yet another morsel. What no one really noticed, however, was a brief bit of it landed elsewhere besides around her bowl.

"Do you always have to act half your age?" He growled at her.

"Do you always have to be so serious?" She countered.

"Have you two not learned how to get along yet?" Both Kisame and Saya eyed Itachi warily as he finished off a stick of dango and washed it down with tea.

"Eh, you..."Saya made a motion at her face whilst looking at him.

"Nani?"

"Some food, you know," she continued, her cheek obviously being chewed roughly on. Kisame rolled his eyes at her and continued with his dinner. Without having to be told much more, Itachi caught on and grabbed a napkin, wiping the residue of glaze from around his lips, though, that wasn't nearly what Saya was trying not to laugh at, because to her mortification, a chunk of potato had landed right in his hair.

"Careful, onna, you might bite a hole through your cheek," Kisame commented solemnly, though was chuckling inwardly. As if his warning had undone the last lingering remnants of her self-control, Saya choked on her bubbling laughter, and in the process knocked over her soup, still scalding, right into her lap. With a shriek, she jumped up, jostling the table enough to shift all the dinnerware, Itachi steadying it with a firm grasp.

"Shimata!" She hissed, snatching up napkins to wipe off the food from her lap.

"Baka."

"Kusotare."

"Cursing doesn't make you any more alluring, you know."

"And who said I was trying to be alluring!"

Itachi intervened...again.

"Urusai."

Saya grumbled but sat back down, balling the soiled towels and shoving them to a corner of the table, watching as the slight burns reddened her usually dark skin. An awkward silence descended upon them.

"...so about that temple."

It was safe to say that, in an effort of slight spite against the stoic Uchiha, Saya left the food in his hair go unmentioned.

She smiled at the memory, nudging the covers at the end of the bed with a toe, blatantly disregarding Sho's fit as he swiftly sped out the room and slammed the door, lumbering back down the hall. She was once again alone in the room, the soft hum of the heater buzzing and filling the otherwise silent estate.

Yeah, she'd noticed a lot of things about them.

She watched as Kisame perused the collection of oils, plucking two small glass bottles from the shelf and moving on to the uchiko along the far wall. She observed his hands curiously, cocking her head to the side like some kind of drowsy bird. The pair currently resided in a weaponsmith's shop, Saya had caught sight of her traveling companion whilst she'd been gambling with two older men from around the corner. With a heavy coin purse (Because when the gambling actually had some mathematical or cognitive purpose, she had no problem- only when it came to luck did Saya fall short) she'd trailed after him, wondering what he was up to so early in the afternoon. She would have assumed that he'd still be on the job they were commissioned for, considering it was with a rather bawdy yakuza boss according to Hoshigaki himself.

He had noticed her right away, telling her to follow him as they made their way into the shopping district of the city. He had doffed the cloak and resolved to wear a collarless, sleeveless uwagi with thickly stitched edges, a simple, cheap obi tightened it around his waist. He wore his usual black combat pants and standard Akatsuki shoes, though, he'd omitted carrying around his sword, but that most certainly didn't mean he was unarmed. Despite his discreet attire, he looked anything but safe. The flock of civilians they'd passed had either gawked, showed open terror, or nervously avoided meeting gazes with the massive shinobi, glancing dubiously at the slighter woman dallying behind him.

"What are you doing?" She stepped next to him as he shook a small container, making a silent disapproval of what was inside.

"Getting you something to clean your blades with."

She refrained from showing her surprise, opting for fidgeting with the beads around her neck instead. She inspected some of the labels on the shelf, reaching for a jar just past his large hand and in the process brushing just slightly with his arm.

"The best one is probably this, I've used it a couple of times before," she remarked, handing it to him as he slowly trailed his eyes from where their hands met to where hers were now, awaiting his retrieval. He took a quick look at the words along the side, nodding and placing it in the crook of his elbow along with the rest of his items. They casually examined the rest of the small store, making idle conversation about weapon maintenance and the like. The owner smirked softly as they left, Kisame holding open the door above Saya's head, and another, wan man balked as he passed by them upon entering.

Now this next part Saya didn't remember, because of course, she wasn't there to witness it.

As the door clicked shut, the lanky man rubbed the back of his head, cringing at the thought of what a woman like that must be doing in the company of a monster. The guy must've been a shinobi, though he wore no head-guard that would have associated him with such a group. The man voiced his concerns to the owner, sliding his purchases onto the counter.

"I feel bad for the lady," he continued, "I mean, what the heck was that guy fed as a child? He's huge! And did you see his teeth? He must be from Kiri, that's the only place I've ever heard of having people like that. That village is something wicked, from what people have told me. I wouldn't be surprised if she ended up in a ditch somewhere."

"Oh?" The owner voiced, tapping the price that was scrawled on a receipt. "I wouldn't say that."

"Nande?" The man shuffled, digging through his wallet for the amounted ryo. The shopkeeper smirked again, taking the money and handing back change. He thought back to his previous patrons, how they stood beside one another as they discussed weaponry in easy tones, not even acknowledging him as they checked out.

Then he thought of their exit.

And to the gossiping man's complete bewilderment, he replied in a sigh.

"Just a feeling."

Saya had drifted back asleep, focusing in and out on consciousness as a slight winter chill drifted in from the cracked window. Bleary-eyed, she looked up at the ceiling and dreamily watched the paint patterns shifted into different designs before her eyes. Her eyes fluttered shut.

"So where did you get the necklace?"

Saya lounged across a stone bench, watching the Uchiha as he read through a file she cared little about. They were in a niche along the road, a small rock garden hidden along the enclosure and most likely the efforts of the resident of a cabin not far off into the pasture behind them. Kisame stood, shirtlessly performing katas with Samehada as he worked out the kinks of the boredom that accompanied languid travel. The Uchiha didn't answer, but Saya had grown accustomed to such responses.

"Maybe a gift from a sibling?" She went on, referring to the strange accessory strung around Itachi's neck. He did not seem bothered by her inquisitive guesses, in fact, he didn't even look up from the papers he held. "Or perhaps it was from a friend, like those ones you have in, what is it called? You know, that place you go when you're just a kid." She paused, furrowing her brows in thought.

"Academy," Kisame answered without resting from his exercises.

"Oh yeah, Academy," she exclaimed, pounding a fist in one hand. "Was it from a friend from your Academy days? Wait, did you even attend one, or was the Uchiha clan private in their child-rearing?"

"I attended the Academy," Itachi said, lifting up a page to refer to one underneath and then flipping it over altogether.

"Ne, but did you have a lot of friends?" She draped her arms over the edge of her seat, rolling into a sitting position and slipping the tie from her hair. It fell down past her waist, collecting into her lap as she combed through it with her fingers. "Or maybe you had a strict family, yeah? Like in one of those dramas those girls read all the time, or in that terrible novel Ichi-Ichi-san had his nose in." She took a look at her hair and frowned.

"Or maybe it was from a lover?" The silence this time seemed tense, uncomfortably so to Saya's reckoning. She carefully lifted her head to where he sat, and seeing that he still ignored her, sighed. "Or maybe not." A tangle had caught in her hair, and she tugged with what she could to loosen it.

In her efforts, Itachi stood from his own bench and tucked the report away in the bag at his side, folding it neatly and then buttoning up his cloak. With terribly silent steps, he left the clearing and headed off in the direction of a lake they'd seen along their way down.

"You pissed him off," Kisame muttered, finishing with a set of swings and starting another. Saya threw a look over her shoulder, dropping her hands into her lap with an exasperated sigh.

"I know," she admitted. "I figured I would before I started questioning him, but..." She trailed off, though it didn't elicit a reaction from him. He continued with his swings, a few trails of sweat beading down his face.

"But you just enjoy pissing people off, don't you?"

"No, or haven't you noticed?" She stood from the seat and walked off in the direction Itachi had gone, leaving Kisame to pause questioningly in her wake. "You!" She called backwards without meeting his gaze, "Just you, Hoshigaki."He watched as she disappeared and shook his head, turning back to his katas.

She reached the lake's shoreline, small waves lapping against the rocky soil and freshwater reeds. The dense scent of lake water swam around her, the only whisper of fall being the slight change of leaf color adorning the trees. Itachi sat on a boulder just a few paces before her, its base submerged into the water that his feet dipped into motionlessly. She took a few seconds to watch him before walking into the water herself and taking a place beside him, folding her fingers in her lap and waiting.

Waiting for what, she didn't know. It was a tense silence that fell between them: He didn't seem to find her worth the effort of acknowledging, and she simply couldn't find any words to give him. This wasn't a normal thing for her, asyou readers might have surmised, as Saya usually had the uncanny knack for producing easy conversation. However, she merely lifted her hand, stiffly, in what looked like an attempt to pat him on the knee, though, she froze in the movement and instead dropped it onto the stone.

"Gomen, Itachi-san..."she began slowly, awkwardly, "I didn't mean anything by asking you those questions."

"Hn. Don't worry about it."

"Yeah...so," she drew out a breath, lifting her resting hand to finally tap him gently on the shoulder rather than the leg, looking in the opposite direction. "So I just wanted to say that and...and-"

"It's fine, Sayuri," he said, his frigid posture melting into a something less severe. "I'm not offended."

She immediately swiveled her face to his, narrowing her eyes as she intently peered into his. And just like that, Saya was released from whatever had held her.

"Oh thank the heavens!" She heaved, slapping her forehead, "I thought you were just trying to brush me off, but I guess you're being pretty honest, huh?"

"Hn."

"Don't you Hn me. I may not act it, but I am most definitely your senior," she joked, sweeping her eyes across the lakeside. "Though, I wonder...who will die first?" She watched as the sun began to dip below the far-off hillside, the tantalizing colors of dusk tainting the water a deep, runny red.

"You, if you continue to pester those who outmatch you."

She swung back around to him, grinning from ear to ear.

"You think? What wouldn't I give to meet my end at the hands of Uchiha Itachi." She watched his glacial features attempt to chill her blood, but really, she just couldn't find it in her to frown. "Ne, Itachi-san, how old are you?"

"I'm sure my file informed you exactly how old I am."

"Tsk," she crossed her arms across her abdomen, looking high into the sky. "Figures. You know everything, don't you? Hey, tell me the answer to this riddle," she exclaimed, swinging her head back down.

"I'd rather not."

"Oh, come on Itachi-san, it's just a riddle."

"I think not."

She watched him expectantly, blinking with heavy lashes. Saya swung her legs around and crossed them, cupping her chin and tilting her head to the side as she waited. Even someone like Uchiha Itachi had to wonder.

"What?"

"Well...aren't you going to disappear?"

He continued to stare at her, his expression unchanging despite the obvious question in the depths of his deep, onyx eyes. "You know," she goaded, sliding her head further to the side with an obtuse smile. "You think not, therefore you are not? Or haven't you heard that joke before?" He gave her a look that spoke volumes.

"I'll take that as a no, then." Her eyes, for a very small moment, darted to the area along his throat. He noticed the action though, and as she rolled her eyes to the water in an attempt to mask her curiosity, his lips twitched just as they had in the restaurant.

"You should act your age, Imatsura."

"And you should act yours every once in a while, Itachi."

When they made it back to the rock garden, Saya a few steps ahead of the Uchiha, they found Kisame had finished with his practice and was retrieving his cloak. He rubbed the back of his neck, working out the tense muscle that had built up over the position he'd taken up for the past half hour, greeting the pair with a noncommittal nod of the head.

Just as he was sliding his arms into the finely-made Akatsuki coat, Saya made a rather unfeminine grunt whilst in the process tussling with the ends of her hair, the knot she'd been playing with earlier still very much intact.

"I should just chop it all off," she hissed, running the tangle between two fingers before her face. Itachi said nothing and collected his own cloak, donning it and taking off down the unused road. She heaved a sigh of frustration, jumping a bit when she suddenly felt a hand on her head, mussing what little she'd gotten managed. She looked up and found that the calloused but startlingly gentle hand belonged to Kisame, and without looking to her, he told her, "It's fine the way it is."

"But cutting it would make everything so much easier," she whined. He mussed it up some more, and she had to wrestle his hand off of her head, ducking under his arm as he pass by her. She gave his back a lazy glare, the expression dropping at his next few words.

"Don't cut it."

"What's it matter to you?" She raised a brow, patting down the mass destruction he'd created out of her thick locks. Then with deft hands, she twisted it back up into a quick twist, tying it into place. He hadn't much moved from his spot with his slow pace, so she easily overtook him with a few long strides, her head held up in mock indignation. Somehow he seemed taller to her, almost at a towering height compared even to her own lithe stature.

Kisame watched as she passed by him, and in an single, fluid movement he snatched the hairpiece from her hair and let it tumble down her back.

Much better.

His lips quirked as she halted in heated astonishment, her eyes wide in a rare moment of incredulity. As he strolled along, his partner just within eyesight ahead of them, he counted silently to himself.

Three, two, one...

"Hoshigaki, I want my band back."

"You don't always get what you want, onna."

"Hage!"

"Wench."He said easily, carelessly. His tone was almost affectionate, and it made Saya nearly trip

"K-Kusotare!"

Her face nearly hurt, her smile so terrible that it had to have originated from some wicked creature. Quelling whatever it was that heated her veins, she pushed her face deep into the quilt, curling her fingers around the edges of the blanket.

However, the time came that both Itachi and Kisame were ordered to pursue their original jinchuuriki targets, and Saya was explicitly told she was not to accompany them. Kisame and Itachi, as well as Akasuna no Sasori, were to persuade some terrorist bomber out in Iwa to join, the permanent replacement to Sasori's previous partner, to which Sho had just been a temporary one. After this, they were to locate and apprehend their assigned mark, only occasionally checking up on both Sho and herself, just to make sure they didn't get into any trouble.

She laughed to herself, the sound muffled and muted against the bed pressed against her lips, saliva dampening the fabric beneath her. Deciding that sleep was utterly out of her reach, Saya sat up and scratched her head, dangling her legs over the side and then slipping off altogether onto the cold floor. She padded her way over to the dresser Sho had stood at, retrieving a pair of thick, wool socks to slide onto her feet before securing her boots tightly, yanking the laces into neat bows.

Rather than wearing her usual hakama and light, summer clothes, she now wore forest green, knee-padded combat pants and a simple, black long-sleeved shirt. After shouldering her heavy khaki coat on and pocketing her wallet, she clomped out of the room, eyeing around the walls one last time before locking the door and pocketing the key. She stared at the door across the way for a few minutes, pages of cataloged information flipping at a dashing speed in her mind before brusquely stopping at a single memory. Her eyes lowered, the shadows beneath them particularly dark under the yellow light flickering above her head. A single breath let out a small wisp of puffy breath, the cold sinking into her bones. Both her hands fisted in her jacket pockets, her fingers numbing despite the warmth provided by the thermal material.

Her back ached.

Her breath hitched, but with a rude gesture that mimicked Sho's own teeth sucking, she pushed off the wall and made her way down the hall. As she noiselessly climbed down the narrow stairs, a strained, papery voice addressed her.

"Sayuri, is that you?" Before she even made it to the ground floor, the oppressing scents of herbal remedies assaulted her nose, almost tickling her into a sneeze. The smell made her throat feel slick, and sometimes she felt it stung her eyes, though, she never complained.

"Hai," she answered, looking forward to see an elderly man busily juggling small bushels of something brown and green, the leaves stalky and exotic. Rows of baskets were set up around the room, counters of elixirs and medicines listed under unbelievably cheap prices decorated each corner and stand. The lighting in the room was dim, only an old fashioned, oil lamp hung suspended in one corner where there were no windows, though, the winter clouds let hardly ample light within the quaint shop.

"Oh good, I could use your help at the moment." The owner of the shop, an older man most likely in his late 60's, turned to her with a deep frown etched into his face. He was very much shorter than Saya, whether that had developed with age and the customary hunching over his work, or whether he'd always been of such a height went unknown. He'd told Saya to simply call him Leng-Fan, though, she wondered why he procured such a feminine title.

"Hai. What do you need?"

"An antibiotic that I ordered came in, and I need it delivered to a woman," he dug inside his shirt pocket and handed her the address, "At that street. She's not well enough to travel and her son is out on duty this week."

She nodded to him and took the small paper bag he held out to her, hefting it over her shoulder without raising her face from the paper as she thought of what way she should take to get to the district scribbled down.

"-pain?"

"What?" She looked up tiredly, noticing that Leng-Fan was staring keenly at her.

"I asked if you were in pain again, but that's obvious from the looks of it." He replied knowingly, folding his hands into either sleeve of his apron. "Want me to whip something up for it?" She stared at him without answering, then turned away and tucked the address into her pocket.

"No. I'll be back later." She swung open the door, the little bell dangling from the top chiming to the movement. The sound sent a dull pang through her chest, but it went by without much heed.

"Should I tell that ridiculous boy to meet you at the Okonomiyaki-ya, usual time?" He asked. Leng-Fan had taken it upon himself to constantly ask Saya questions, whether it be about where she and Sho were from, why Sho dressed the way he did, how come Saya wasn't already married, how her health was, what time she ate lunch or dinner, or when the pair expected to up and leave again, as they had a few months ago and then returned not long after. The only thing he never questioned her on was why exactly she and the younger man were hanging around the poorer parts of such a rural village, to which both of them were silently thankful for.

"No, not tonight. Just tell him I'll be in not long after nightfall."

"You shouldn't be out so late with the cold, you'll make yourself worse."

"Thanks for the advice."

"It would be nice if you actually listened to it," he quipped. "Take care."

She threw her hood over her thick braid and stepped out into the snow-laden outside, substantial flurries fluttering from the overcast sky. "Yeah," she said shallowly, "Later."

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References

* Shuten-dōji - an infamous princess-kidnapping, bloodthirsty oni.

*Akaname- a mythological creature often described as a being which appears in untidy bathrooms to lick up the grime and dirt with poisonous saliva.

*Imoni- is a type of thick potato and meat soup eaten traditionally in the autumn.

*Uchiko- a fine powder that helps absorb excess oil: used for cleaning swords.

*Uwagi- a Kimono-like jacket

*Okonomiyaki-ya- restaurants that serve large, savory pancakes made with diced seafood, meat and vegetables. "Okonomiyaki" literally means "cook what you like," and customers get to choose their own favorite ingredients and then cook up their pancakes right at the table. Because the customers choose their own ingredients, Japanese sometimes compare okonomiyaki to pizza, although the similarity really ends there.