Bad Actors
The air in the stage area of the onsen was ripe, so many chakra signatures and even more scents and smells that made bile rise in the back of his throat. You, on the other hand, appeared blissfully unaware, at least he hoped you were. Eyeing the stage and seats with great interest, your head cocked to the side and hands crossed over your chest; it seems you had no idea what this place was used for whatsoever.
Kisame almost gagged when you planted your hands on the railing adjacent to the stage. Despite the two of you only being at it for ten minutes now, he suddenly no longer wanted to explore. He was slowly walking in your direction, as every single time he did you had a knack for subconsciously putting as much distance in between the two of you as possible. Maybe, once you were done staring at the stage, innocently imagining the plays that would never be acted out upon it, you would get the hint and move on.
But it seemed he was out of luck. You hopped up onto a table and then onto the stage, somehow faster than Kisame could even process it. From your perch you could see all the bar chairs, the booths, even the bar itself, everything was perfectly aligned to stare at the stage. To stare at you. Briefly, an intrusive thought of the eyes of your future husband, those of all of his warriors, of your family… your fathers eyes, and even those of the Akatsuki members as well. It was like a hot flash searing through your spine. However, you steel yourself away just as fast. The nightmares could come for you under the guise of darkness, when you cannot fight your loneliness. For now, you take a deep breath and gracefully start to mime out the only scene from a book you had memorized.
Your strange movements are not missed by the equally strange man accompanying you. Perhaps that is why he doesn't stop or distract you. Kisame watches, dangerously distracted now, impossibly curious of your moves.
Suddenly, the smells are drowned out, he smells rain. You drop to kneel on the stage, swirling your fingers daintily as if in a small pond, as if there really was one in front of you. He can feel a chill in the air. Your face contorts, eyes looking up to the sky, eyebrows crumpled together, lips open as if searching the sky for a kiss. Above all else, your character looks conflicted, ripe with longing, he hears your thoughts despite the soundlessness of it all.
The mood shifts, you stand up and turn to the side, posture stiff and expression stoic. You look resigned, not happy, but as if you know your fate. In your mind you see the setting all around you. You’re standing at the edge of a cliff, the rock is a deep red-ish brown, trees and a great lake sit below you.At your feet is the calm, shallow pond, leading off of the cliff and turning into a wild waterfall. You can feel the cold water dripping from the fingertips you just dipped. His eyes deceive him, watching an otherworldly breeze ruffle the delicate fabric of a dress you aren’t even wearing.
The moon is full and finally in position, he sees the reflection just barely in your eyes. Light seems to pour down from the heavens, filling the pool and overflowing it quickly. You step into the shower of cold light, the feeling engulfs you. A deep breath escapes you, Kisame breaths in, not realizing he was holding it. The scene, the chakra he was finally making out, it smelled… Your body wavers, the last drops of light dripping from the now dim ball of light in the sky, you shine. Stepping over to the edge of the stage, you stare down at the cliff, the water no longer flowing, the pond now dry. Slowly, you extend a hand-
“What was that?” The man asks hastily, too eager to know despite your show not being over yet.
Flinching at his sudden words, having forgotten he was there, “It's a scene from a book, I always wondered how it would be acted out…” You start to fiddle with the sleeves of the shirt someone had put out for you, far too long, but perfect for you to distract yourself from your embarrassment with.
Kisame had never been much of a reader, he had never even thought about reading anything besides orders and missions before. Especially not for his own enjoyment. However, he has an inexplicable seed of regret hidden somewhere deep. He had never seen a play before either, but you had ignited something strange in him, something that has plagued him his entire life. Curiosity. He wants to see more, whether it is you or the character he had just glimpsed. Kisame wants to know just who you were a moment ago, she was just so, purely… Captivating.
You look down at your feet, there’s a strange look in his eye that makes you nervous. He seems to be entranced, dark navy eyes focused but looking through you, his pointed teeth clearly holding the inside of his lip. You turn yourself away, as if to hide. “It's from a book called The Birth of the Goddess.” He has never heard of it, he wants to though.
“Was performing something your father had you tutored for?” He meant it to be innocent, a compliment, he meant it to bring out fond memories of your father. He doesn’t know why, but now he sees the Goddess is gone and he has upset you. The way your chin whipped in his direction, your eyes glare at him with disdain, but it is clear that you aren’t seeing the man standing right in front of you.
“No.” You say it pointedly. He fucked up again. He doesn’t know why the thought of your father makes you so angry, they were informed you were a beloved and spoiled child. Though he can clearly tell your anger isn’t with him. Despite this, his thoughts rush in. Kisame is briefly a teenager again, walking through his village, already a decorated ninja. However, that, and his terrifying looks and reputation do not prevent the civilians of the village looking at him as a monster. That’s all he’ll ever be, he takes a step back from the stage, it was his fate to be demon, he was just-
His thoughts are interrupted, you had relaxed now and were moving to get off the stage from the side with stairs. You misstep though, too busy looking at the floor far below you. You step too close to the edge, you overcorrect and throw off your balance. You start to fall. He is there before you could even scream.
One strong arm wraps around you, the hand on his other arm grips your wrist. Your free arm flails briefly before wrapping around his neck, you let out a sharp groan of pain. He briefly thinks you must have twisted your ankle. But an ever so small “Please, let go,” as he puts you down reminds him that he isn’t the hero here. When his fist relaxes and your wrist is exposed again the red is already blooming, he has given you another bruise. It would be no different than the one on your cheek-- He is no different than the man that gave you that bruise on your cheek. He is a monster.
You back as far away from him as possible, back hitting the stage then inching alongside the border and away. Your eyes bore into his, there is fear there. There is true and utter hate. You are a terrified, domestic animal with no way to defend yourself and you know it. Why does he care?
“I’m…” He struggles for the words, knowing that no matter what way he puts it, it will never sound sincere so long as you are their- his- hostage. He hangs his head and lets out a deep sigh, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you, I-”
“Just shut up!” You all but yell. Hatred drips from your very soul and manifests in your tone. Your words-- your strong tone startles him. Despite being a bird in a cage, despite having your wings clipped, and the cage being shaken over, and over, and over again; you still have your beak.
That crazed, angry look in your eyes dissipates. Silence fills the room. He has no idea what to do, no idea if you’ll try to escape, fight him, or what- you have proven yourself impossibly unpredictable. He stands still and gives you the chance to make the first move.
Surprisingly, you shake out your wrist and run your hands through your hair. Smoothing out those shiny strands. You let out a short breath through your lips, as if to ground yourself and cut the awkward air all at the same time. You turn and make your way to the employees-only area behind the stage. He for a moment was not going to follow. But when you stop and look back at him he gets the hint and continues behind you, though both of you know you only allow it because you have no choice.
Still, the illusion of choice is something you are growing to appreciate from both Itachi and now Kisame. Despite the latter making you wholly uncomfortable.
The employee area is even more fanciful, and quickly steals the thoughts of your captors away. You immediately wish you had been back here first. Costumes and fabrics have been left behind, clearly to be used when the place was rented for certain activities. You knew vaguely what these clothes were but it was entirely more innocent than reality.
You were careful of your wrist picking through the pile of clothing on the back of a chair, daydreaming of the scene you had acted out before. You really could put on an entire play here if you wanted.
“If you find something you like that fits Just take it. Kakuzu won't pay for clothing for you and Itachi only has so much he can spare.” He is leaning haphazardly against the door frame, partially because he couldn't stand fully upright in this room. Light leaks in behind him so you can't see his expression but he can see your grimace from a mile away.
In reality that look was just a farce, you really were excited to find these fabrics. The clothing themselves could be done up more modestly with robe covers but there were also traditional clothing and robes you already knew would fit. Maybe if you dressed more flashy you would be a more noticeable target for the people tailing you.
You had gone through a couple of piles in silence, some time passing and the light from the doorway had taken on more of a golden hew. Having made a decently sized pile of your own “borrowed” clothing you were walking back to look through. On your way, while debating how desperate taking these clothes looked and if it would reflect badly on you, you weren't paying attention in the dim light and accidently knocked into a clothing railing. The railing knocked into a massive, sturdy sign leaning against the wall. A heavy one, taller than you, meant to hang out on the hillside when the brothel is in town.
You can see it falling in slow motion, it's so fast you hardly have time to brace yourself. You close your eyes tightly and crouch to cover your head, waiting for impact.
Though the impact never occurs. You're hesitant to open your eyes as you heard and felt nothing at all. Well not necessarily nothing. There was a warmth near you that just about had you convinced that you had momentarily blacked out from the impact and the warmth was from the pool of blood you were laying in.
But you had to open your eyes eventually… When you do you are met with a sheepish, sharp grin. Kisame is so close but not touching you that you can feel his body heat, the little back room you're in feels way too small. He's standing over you, hands pressed against the wall above your head. You're so caught up in the apologetic look in his fierce eyes that you nearly miss the massive sign he caught on his back.
How could someone of his size and demeanor move so quickly and so silently, you hadn't even heard it hit his back. You had known he was strong and fast, but if all members of the Akatsuki were like him you felt as though they really did live up to the panic their name caused. You also felt suspiciously safe.
“You're a bit clumsy aren't you?” He huffs, still able to crack jokes with such a big weight in his back. You space out looking at him, wondering what sort of feeling it was that was blooming in your chest. Your wrist, which was throbbing just a moment before now felt more limber without you even moving it. You had assumed he had grabbed you thinking you were trying to pull a fast one on him. However, it seemed everything he did had no ulterior motive. It seemed he was trying to be helpful, and not only that, to prevent you from getting hurt.
Was he nice?
Of course not. You swallowed what little thanks you could drum up for him quickly. Scooting away from him to stand up as he pushed the sign back against the wall and scooped up the pile of clothing you had claimed. The words of the other man, Hidan, rang in your ears; that they had to deliver you in working order. Kisame was just making good on that order.
You can’t trust him, Itachi, or any of them. Especially because you know that they're all crazy. Kakuzu had proven that, same with Hidan. You never wanted to see that guy again. Ever.
“Thanks for saving her Kisame, I can't have the next disciple of Jashin dying on us too early.” The silver haired freak is standing mimicking Kisame in the doorway, you felt a lot warmer when it was the indigo haired man. Kisame sneers back, approaching way to close behind you. Your discomfort is overshadowed by that strange feeling again. An instantly calming feeling that reminds you of Itachi. You don't search for a name for it.
“Come on,” Hidan's slightly whiny tone gets you. “I'm sore, let's take a bath before dumbass Itachi and the Old Man get back.”
You only follow after Kisame nods that you will be safe. That's it- safe.