Momochi Solitude ch. 4

Thank God for Bread

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto or any of it's characters. However, Asami, Eiji and the nameless mentor are mine.

Momochi Zabuza, or rather Ken, was one meticulous man. At 6:00 am he was out of the futon, 6:15 he was out of the shower and 6:20 he was out of the smithy. He had planned on going to the market place and getting himself a quick breakfast before his first day at work started.

Work.

Other than picking up a scroll and doing exactly what it said, he never worked before. Work was associated with missions, or what one can call military work. Never any civilian-sort of work. It was a novel feeling indeed, living with a master, receiving orders from one person only; no higher ups in the matter. It was all too intimate, too close. Then again, the old man was really something. As soon as he recognized a sword, he saw through it to the soul of the wielder. That admirable ability of his though, Zabuza noted, could turn into something quite dangerous. What if he manages to find out that Ken is actually the Demon of the Hidden Mist himself? Zabuza could see that the old man was quite capable of such a thing. He was smart and perceptive and soon, he would realize.

Walking down the street Zabuza rubbed his hands together. Today was a little colder than yesterday, and he was not used to having his face out in the open all the time. Something warm and nice would do, he thought. He needed a good breakfast to be able to make it through the day without the hot nature of his new job killing him. After all, being a smith was a rather demanding job. Only three hours at it yesterday and he felt like a grilled shishamo, with his scars tingling and stinging as if his skin was crumpling on the grill. Wonderful images you are filling your head with before breakfast eh? He scoffed at himself. A small sigh escaped his lips when he neared the bustling streets of the market. Even at this time of the day, it was already filled with life. Most of the people walking around at this time of day were shinobi and fishermen. The fishermen were grabbing a quick bite before their fishing trips and the shinobi needed a quick bite before receiving new orders to have someone murdered, spied upon or the likes. Now the actual food-hunting won't take long. Looking around he spotted some natto, hmmm, no he wasn't in the mood for beans today. Some grilled fish … no he ate fish yesterday. Yesterday's charity girl, hmmm, no- He froze,

Yesterday's charity girl.

What was she doing here? Why must they meet in the same place at the same time just the next day? He huffed slightly, he didn't care either way. Or did he … ? Zabuza narrowed his eyes, something peculiar on her back caught his full attention. Nuibari? His eyes widened ever so slightly, she was from the Seven? The next Nuibari? A girl? She really must be something, defeating all odds and entering the seven, Nuibari's wielder to be exact. Oh, he ran a finger along his jaw line, should he tell the old man he wondered, what he would say … hmmm, he would definitely be able to tell her inside out … But why was he bothered? He shouldn't be, he should be bothered with his own stomach at the moment. The smell of freshly baked bread filled his nostrils. Turning, he found a stall filled to the brim with all colors of bread. Bread wasn't filling though, he'd take one and then go look for a proper meal. He popped some coins in a basket, picked up a small rounded piece of bread and moved on, looking for something else. One bite filled his mouth with the juice of a cherry tomato, and the succulent ooze of melted mozzarella. He moaned softly, it was too good to be true. Just to think, fifty years ago they had limited knowledge concerning cheese and butter. It almost made life seem impossible. Literally barbecues couldn't have existed; they used butter like there was no tomorrow. If it was one thing Zabuza cared more about than his sword, it was his stomach. On days that he could afford such luxuries however, and being in the shinobi business succeeded in making that a rarity.

"Oh, Job-san."

Zabuza turned with a raised eyebrow, the last of the bun hanging from his mouth. He chewed it in and with it still puffing up his cheek he muttered, "Job-san?"

"Well, yes," Asami smiled, "I don't know your name, and I can only remember you had no job, and that you are big … " She struggled to keep in a giggle; his face was hilarious. He was almost going to start growling at her like a hungry, angered wolf, whom she tried to pet. She continued past him, there was a stall to her left that she was quite eager to reach. "I see you're from the bread-generation."

His eyebrows traveled further up his brow, "Bread-generation?"

"You eat bread in the morning," she explained simply.

Zabuza frowned, more curious about the stall she lead him to rather than her. It was just perfect … "There's something wrong with eating bread in the morning?" He murmured passively, eyes glued to the soy-based soup, the noodles and the peculiar looking tempura.

"Oh no, it's just I like my old-fashioned breakfast. If I were to have bread it would either be a disastrous morning or a quick lunch," Asami realized he wasn't paying much attention to her as he was the food, picking out his wallet he was already ordering a bowl. This stall's manager left two or three stools on the side but most of his customers ate standing. He would take out a ladle and scoop two full ladles of soup, then slide in the noodles, and finally finish off with a just-fried vegetable sort of tempura. She didn't really know what it was but it was rather delicious.

"Well then let's hope you never have to eat bread."

The sentence just came out of his mouth as any other and he took no further notice of it. However she on the other hand, she took all the notice in the world of it. Let's hope you never have to eat bread? Did it translate to let's hope you never have a disastrous morning? Or let's hope you have proper lunches? Her eyes were wide wide wide. A little pink hue colored her cheeks, and two finger snapped in front of her,

"Your bowl neechan!" The manager snapped. She gasped, taking it from him and muttering a quick 'oh sorry' bowing her head slightly. She cracked her chopsticks apart and blew over her noodles slightly. From the corner of her eye she could see Job-san licking his bowl clean and asking for another one. The manager was high in spirits seeing that his food was loved, she though slurped on her noodles and chewed slowly, turning to him,

"You got a job congratulations."

Zabuza turned with narrowed eyes at her, "How did you know?"

"You can afford seconds," she stated simply, taking a bite of her tempura.

Zabuza continued raising an eyebrow at her as he received his second bowl, the steam tickling his chin as he held the bowl up to dig in again. Cold wind ruffled his hair and warm soup warmed his face and his hands, but he knew he couldn't enjoy the luxury for long. "So maybe I did," he took a bite of his own tempura, "what difference does it make to you?"

She shrugged, "I don't know … I guess it's nice to know you got a job,"

He snorted, "What are you? My wife?"

Again, he said it and took no further notice of it. However she, she skyrocketed in her head. Wife! He said wife! He didn't say girlfriend, he didn't say girl … he said wife! Wife! Her cheeks flushed, this man … he might be the one …

"Oi Neechan! You done? Put the bowl down and step aside please other people are waiting!"

She blinked confused, "Oh sorry!" She put the empty bowl down and turned to either side of her, the rude brute! He was gone! He just- Just left like that! She frowned, hurrying away from the stall, looking around. Where did he go? She fisted her hands and pouted, Urghhhh …

She didn't even get his name yet!

Zabuza closed the door behind him. His breakfast outings were somehow plagued by that girl. Whenever he went out to eat she was there, causing him to arrive to the safe conclusion that she lived alone. She had no one to cook for her, and being a high-esteemed shinobi he knew how busy it can get as one of the seven. She must be too tired and not bothered in the least to cook anything for herself by the end of her day. Starved for sleep she wouldn't wake up early enough to make breakfast, she probably only woke early enough for a shower.

"Okairi,"

Zabuza jerked up, he was caught completely off-guard by an old man with his arms crossed over his chest. Eiji eyed him pointedly with one raised eyebrow, expecting some sort of answer. The youth blinked, licking his lips and staring back with a blank face at the old man. He pointed at the door with his thumb and muttered, "Went out for breakfast."

"Really?"

Zabuza blinked three times. Why was the old man eyeing him that way and what was with the overly sarcastic tone? He nodded once slowly, "Yea, really … "

"Alright, let me lay some house rules for ya."

House rules? Zabuza could never be more confused. He was sure he came here to work, and he was also sure he did not sign any adoption papers. Were they in his pack? As crazy as his old mentor got, he would never do such a thing. He actually would prefer to keep Zabuza all to himself, hence the fake identity and the death facade. That senile crack-head was always plotting sinister plans and then decorated them with noble excuses, and if Zabuza was sure about one thing, he was not saved out of pure student-master bonds. This was not Konoha and his mentor had no will of fire. Still, this old man was all the more confusing and Zabuza could safely say he's had his enough of anyone above forty.

"I have been cooking breakfast all morning to find your room empty," Eiji started, walking slowly towards Zabuza. "Let me make myself clear. We have breakfast at home, lunch out and dinner at home. Get it? I am using the word 'we' to clear any confusion you might have," the old man narrowed his eyes slightly.

Zabuza frowned dangerously, "We? But-"

"No buts," Eiji cut the younger man off. "We are going to start living together, working together, we will eat together, scrub each other's backs and I have a large delivery," he pointed at some boxes, "Of equipment which I have no where to shove but your room. This leaves only my room for the both of us, understand?"

Zabuza let out a sigh, "I can only afford to pay you for the rent … "

Eiji's eyebrows shot up for a second, mouth open slightly. The little one actually expected him to demand payment for the food he would feed him and the soap he would lend him? No wonder he looked so confused all the while he was talking. The old man moved forward to the frowning youth and cracked his palm against his cheek. His eyes widened so fast and his own palm reached high up stroking the stinging cheek. Zabuza was internally reprimanding himself, he couldn't guard a slap? He was that loose around this man while even around his mentor he kept his guard up. Well … around him it was a necessity. Eiji moved away, putting on his gloves and lighting the fires, chuckling softly and shaking his head. Zabuza raised his eyebrow at the old man, fingers trailing from his cheek bone to his jaw line. He narrowed his eyes when the old man's shot up at him again,

"Why-"

"You didn't return my okairi," Eiji cut him off abruptly. Zabuza tilted his head blurted out,

"Tadaima. Now why-"

"You an orphan kid?" Eiji cut him off a second time. Zabuza was slightly taken aback by the question. This man was too dangerously perceptive. Too much for a mere civilian who was not even a shinobi. First he displays a talent in telling people's personalities through their swords, now he can manage to guess at some life experience accurately in a very peculiar yet fitting timing. He nodded only once,

"Yes,"

"I figured." The old man chuckled, "Come on, get your jacket off and start working, and no more questions," the old man grinned slyly, "you're grounded."

Zabuza glared at the old man. He was making no sense, no sense at all. Grounded? Scrub each other's backs? What was next? He scoffed,

Grandchildren?

The heat was unbearable. Zabuza felt his face would melt off every time he banged a piece of metal into shape. The little sparks caused him to squint in fear of anything shooting up at his eyes, and every once in a while he'd get a slight sting on his face, and even though he wore no shirt, he was drenched with sweat. He had a small towel hanging from his neck and every few minutes he would wipe his face and neck, panting and coughing slightly from the smoke. He didn't do well with smoke. It was far too hot here, far too hot. What would Hell be like? God forbid … It's a damn smithy and he can't take it, Hell? Zabuza shook his head, God forbid …

"Ow!" He yelped as something hard hit the back of his head. The door to the furnace closed abruptly causing him to wince and turn, realizing that the old man had slid it shut with a poker.

"You were banging too hard and the thing," he nodded at the furnace, "was too loud you didn't hear me say stop." He bent down frowning at the sword Zabuza had been banging into shape. "The middle is section is thinner than the rest of the blade," he rolled his eyes, "The thickness and thinness of a blade is determined in the layering process using the clay, not now." Raising one eyebrow he considered the youth who was trying to pant discreetly, if such a thing could actually be done, "You're head is elsewhere."

Zabuza growled at him softly with narrowed eyes. It's been a good five hours in an inhumanly hellish environment, his concentration span was bound to shorten. Still … Zabuza frowned at the piece of metal. He was meticulous, and such a mistake he didn't tolerate, no matter the excuse, even from himself. "Won't happen again," he mumbled.

"Good, now get a jacket on and let's go, we have a two hour lunch break and then we must resume another excruciating five hours before we can call it a day." Eiji grinned as he wiped himself off clean and put on a fresh shirt. He normally wore kimono tops with the sleeves rolled up over his shoulders, or any other asian-looking top. Zabuza on the other hand did wipe himself clean with a wet towel but proceeded to put on his sandals and storm out of the house shirtless.

"Good Lord have mercy … " he mumbled as a gush of cold harsh wind passed over his body. Eiji let out a series of hoarse chuckles as he stepped out after him,

"It's only your first day, having trouble with the heat already?"

Zabuza turned quite abruptly at the old man with narrowed eyes, "I have been raised in the frost covered nooks and crannies of good old Kirigakure, I can't withstand temperatures above thirty degrees! It was akin to seventy five in there!" He directed his arm towards the smithy. Eiji threw his head back and laughed wildly,

"Surely you have been to hot springs before? Why even the bath water at home is higher than thirty!"

Zabuza glared at the old man, "If you stay in a hot spring for an hour you are considered crazy. I have been in there," he pointed at the smithy, "for five."

Eiji gripped his knee and continued to laugh his heart out while the youth just glared at him. Though he did feel like breathing fire at the man's face, he was quite admirable to stand like that for long hours without a proper chakura circulatory system. Zabuza turned away to look straight ahead at the road to find … his eyes widened,

Oh dear.

"Job-san?" Asami almost shrieked at his sight, trying to hold back a giggle. The man was dressed with simple bandages wrapped around his torso. That was about it. Eiji had composed himself and now was thoroughly interested in why a beautiful woman who was also one of the respected Seven addressing his apprentice as job-san.

Breakfast eh?

Asami's green eyes were focused at the man's torso, her brow only slightly frowning. She was actually concerned with what was not a naughty thought. "Those bandages are rather sweaty shouldn't you be changing them?" She pointed at the clearly soggy wrappings.

Eiji eyed her for a moment, turning to Zabuza with a look of concern of his own. "She's right Ken, you don't change those you might get a serious infection."

Asami's eyes only slightly widened, finally …

Ken.

She grinned with triumph.

"Is this really necessary?"

Zabuza was grumbling seated on a stool outside of the smithy, that woman tending to his wounds, rubbing them with ointment and wrapping them with a fresh roll of bandages. He had absolutely refused to go back in, hoping they would just leave him alone. Eiji on the other hand shrugged and pulled a stool outside, seating him on it and pulled another one for Asami. She insisted on taking care of his back and he founded rather unnecessary. He knew how to take care of himself and he saw no point in getting his wounds a change of bandages now. He was going to come back after two hours for another gruesome five which would render the current wrappings sweaty again. It made much more sense to tend to them after the night's shower, but who would listen to him?

"Yes it is." She mouthed for the one-hundredth time. "Where did you get all these?"

Zabuza let out a sigh and growled, "I was addressing the old man."

Asami scowled and pressed a bit too hard on one of the healing scabs causing Zabuza to frown and let out a 'Umph'. "Easy!" He snapped.

Eiji rolled his eyes, "Yes it is."

Zabuza glared back at the old man, then at the ground. Why was it that every time he stepped on the streets of Kiri she appeared there? And why did she insist on leeching off him for entertainment or whatever it was her motive of always trailing behind him? "There," she pronounced, patting his back gently, "all done."

"Thank God," he mumbled getting off the stool so fast it almost toppled over. Eiji raised an eyebrow with a hint of a grin on his features, "thank her too," he nodded at Asami.

Zabuza scowled slightly and turned to Asami, nodding his head and muttering a quick 'suman'.

"Arigato guzuimashita," Eiji corrected narrowing his eyes at Zabuza while addressing the rising kunoichi. "Really Asami-sama to think-"

"Drop the -sama please." She only eyed him momentarily before she continued, "I'm sorry I cut you off but drop the -sama please." Eiji raised an eyebrow with slight grin and a puzzled look as she almost shrunk, hunching her shoulders as if she tried to hide away from them. When he didn't respond she ran a few fingers through her dirty blonde locks, clearly embarrassed, "I-" she sighed, "I'm only an innocent girl."

"I wouldn't say innocent seeing as you carry Nuibari on your back." Eiji's grin widened, and though she was slightly caught off guard by his response she giggled sheepishly,

"You can say so."

"Can we get going?" Zabuza jerked his head rudely between the two, attempting to break them off. "If I am to work as a mule for you I should at least get my fuel for it," he grumbled at the old man.

Eiji simply shrugged and turned, leading the way, "well I suppose an orphan such as you didn't become that big without reason."

Asami looked up at Zabuza with slightly wide eyes. An orphan? No wonder he behaved around them like that … He himself was one once upon a time. He must've knew, how hard it was to survive with numb little feet and rags too small on a frail body one cold winter night in Kiri. The fear of being killed by random drunk jounin, and where would the next meal come from … and when it would it be … She herself lost her parents at a tender age, but her grandmother made up for that and more. He however, had no one in a good measure of time, and he must've wished one of the men who ate grilled shishamo at a stall would throw him some, who would be eyeing them with envy from afar.

"But really Ken," Eiji started from over his shoulder, "you seem quite disinterested about the fact that the only female of the seven, wielder of Nuibari has bandaged your back and is walking with you to lunch, and has cast you a rather funny nickname too."

"If she would rather been seen as only human then I will see her so." He replied, without much hesitation. Asami liked that about Ken. He didn't bother turning to the old man, he kept his eyes where he needed them to be and answered like he was relating to someone his own name. It also caused her cheeks to turn slightly pink. He seemed to know exactly what she wanted when she wanted it and gave it to her exactly as she wanted it. For the time being, she needed to feel like she was another creature of this earth walking along minding her own business with friends. He gave her that on a silver platter and she could not be any more grateful.

Asami turned to Eiji, "I understand-" she frowned. Did she really never bother with other people's names? Or did she assume that she knew theirs like they knew hers?

"Eiji," Eiji smiled. She smiled back,

"I understand you run a smithy, Kubikiri Boucho will be retrieved soon and I doubt any one would swing it for a while seeing that Momochi senpai is dead. I thought maybe you could take a look at it, it may need some care coming out from a battle with Konoha's copy ninja."

Eiji was frowning thoughtfully, "Momochi Zabuza is dead?"

She nodded, "Momochi senpai has been dead for a few weeks now, we needed to confirm and I got the report this morning. He is dead." In addition to being in the seven swordsmen, Asami also had to run the ANBU. She was technically captain a short while after Zabuza turned rogue.

Eiji was frowning as he turned back to face the road, "Really … " he sighed. Just yesterday they were talking about the boy, and now he was dead. Of course, Eiji admitted the man was an international criminal and no longer a boy. Somehow though, he was fascinated by the sword and inevitably the wielder.

Zabuza merely snorted, "You don't like the honorifics yourself but you call him senpai even though you never met him before."

Asami frowned deeply eying pebble after pebble as they passed her. She stopped abruptly, turning to face Zabuza,

"How did you know that?"

Sorry for the late update! It was surprisingly hard to write this one, I was stuck on more than one occasion but hey! Now it's up so enjoy. The nameless meant does have a name, but all will come out in due time xD Please R&R and thx Dragonphi10 for the fav!