*and now for something more chuunin*
"You!"
"Me."
The bout in the arena below raged on ... but to those up on that level and in that section of the stands it seemed muted.
Momoichi Zabuza was suddenly acutely aware that he was still a 'guest' of the Leaf, and as such, as a show of good will, had given his sword to the Hokage for safekeeping.
The nagging in the back of his mind as he'd watched the Gennin teams that had managed to get past the first and second stage of the Chuunin exam suddenly crystallized, clear as day.
"So, what do you call yourself these days?"
The Mist-nin unlatched the hitai-ite that held his jacket's collar together. A long scar ran from hairline to jaw on the left side of his face, making it seem like he had a permanent grimace that was neither smirk nor snarl but something in-between. Another ran along the opposite side of his face, from nose to the jawline, just below the ear. Yet another lay across that brow. A score of smaller, partially faded ones was scattered across the remaining expanse of exposed skin.
"Katsu. It fits."
"You're then next of the Mizukage's pet assassins to come after me, then?"
"No."
"Oh? Out for some vengance of your own?"
"Actually, I think the old bastard wants us to kill one-another, and the Leaf to finish my students after that," Katsu relatched the jacket's collar. "Believe me or not, but I'm not here for anything as simple as revenge."
"When has revenge ever been simple?" the former member of the Seven Swords of the Hidden Mist asked rethorically. "Enough of this crap. What do you want?"
"I still owe you, 'Devil of the Hidden Mist'," Katsu's eyes narrowed. "Do something for me, and I'll consider us ... somewhat even."
"I don't work for the Mist," the masked swordsman snorted.
"Not for the Mist, call it a ... personal recompense," retorted the Mist-nin. He turned, looking at Zabuza over one shoulder. "Walk with me."
The nukenin hesitated, weighed his options, and followed the grey garbed man into the bowels of the arena.
They walked in silence, each on edge and both well aware of that, until they stopped.
Katsu knocked on the plain door, cocked his head to the side, then made to enter.
"Hold it," the other man said, voice coldly calm. "Here. Now. What do you want."
"I want you to meet one of my students," the scar-faced shinobi's eyes narrowed in what Zabuza supposed was a wry smile. The door opened.
Momoichi Zabuza was not a man easily startled or surprised.
He'd seen the Mist-nin team this 'Katsu' had supposedly taught - a full kunoichi team was unusual in and of itself. One taijutsu and weapons artist that looked far too vivacious for a Mist-gennin. One medic-nin ... one _Mizuno_ medic-nin, and he knew what that meant, even if his sources of information said that there had been some sort of split in their ranks.
And one generalist with a focus on taijutsu, who was swathed in bandaged, head to toe, underneath a black bodystocking.
Who had rid herself of the bandages now, and was staring at him with an intense, amber-eyed gaze.
"This, is Hoshigaki Mako," the Mist-jounin said. "I need you to teach her how to fight one of the Seven Swordsmen. For obvious reasons."
Zabuza shook himself out of the shark-skin induced stupor.
"Couldn't _you_ do that, or did you foget everything you've ever learned somehow?" the nukenin asked.
"Ah," Katsu smiled, this time over the rim of the hitai-ite latch. "But I want her to survive and _win_."
*snippage*
---
*headdesk**headdesk**headdesk* Damn you people. I didn't even like Naruto very much. Don't. Didn't. Don't.
Yes, I know Zabu didn't have his bigass sword at graduation, and that he got it later. It's meant to be a sarcastic aside.
-Griever
caution, runaway muse!
When tact is required, use brute force. When force is required, use greater force.
When the greatest force is required, use your head. Surprise is everything. - The Book of Cataclysm
"You!"
"Me."
The bout in the arena below raged on ... but to those up on that level and in that section of the stands it seemed muted.
Momoichi Zabuza was suddenly acutely aware that he was still a 'guest' of the Leaf, and as such, as a show of good will, had given his sword to the Hokage for safekeeping.
The nagging in the back of his mind as he'd watched the Gennin teams that had managed to get past the first and second stage of the Chuunin exam suddenly crystallized, clear as day.
"So, what do you call yourself these days?"
The Mist-nin unlatched the hitai-ite that held his jacket's collar together. A long scar ran from hairline to jaw on the left side of his face, making it seem like he had a permanent grimace that was neither smirk nor snarl but something in-between. Another ran along the opposite side of his face, from nose to the jawline, just below the ear. Yet another lay across that brow. A score of smaller, partially faded ones was scattered across the remaining expanse of exposed skin.
"Katsu. It fits."
"You're then next of the Mizukage's pet assassins to come after me, then?"
"No."
"Oh? Out for some vengance of your own?"
"Actually, I think the old bastard wants us to kill one-another, and the Leaf to finish my students after that," Katsu relatched the jacket's collar. "Believe me or not, but I'm not here for anything as simple as revenge."
"When has revenge ever been simple?" the former member of the Seven Swords of the Hidden Mist asked rethorically. "Enough of this crap. What do you want?"
"I still owe you, 'Devil of the Hidden Mist'," Katsu's eyes narrowed. "Do something for me, and I'll consider us ... somewhat even."
"I don't work for the Mist," the masked swordsman snorted.
"Not for the Mist, call it a ... personal recompense," retorted the Mist-nin. He turned, looking at Zabuza over one shoulder. "Walk with me."
The nukenin hesitated, weighed his options, and followed the grey garbed man into the bowels of the arena.
They walked in silence, each on edge and both well aware of that, until they stopped.
Katsu knocked on the plain door, cocked his head to the side, then made to enter.
"Hold it," the other man said, voice coldly calm. "Here. Now. What do you want."
"I want you to meet one of my students," the scar-faced shinobi's eyes narrowed in what Zabuza supposed was a wry smile. The door opened.
Momoichi Zabuza was not a man easily startled or surprised.
He'd seen the Mist-nin team this 'Katsu' had supposedly taught - a full kunoichi team was unusual in and of itself. One taijutsu and weapons artist that looked far too vivacious for a Mist-gennin. One medic-nin ... one _Mizuno_ medic-nin, and he knew what that meant, even if his sources of information said that there had been some sort of split in their ranks.
And one generalist with a focus on taijutsu, who was swathed in bandaged, head to toe, underneath a black bodystocking.
Who had rid herself of the bandages now, and was staring at him with an intense, amber-eyed gaze.
"This, is Hoshigaki Mako," the Mist-jounin said. "I need you to teach her how to fight one of the Seven Swordsmen. For obvious reasons."
Zabuza shook himself out of the shark-skin induced stupor.
"Couldn't _you_ do that, or did you foget everything you've ever learned somehow?" the nukenin asked.
"Ah," Katsu smiled, this time over the rim of the hitai-ite latch. "But I want her to survive and _win_."
*snippage*
---
*headdesk**headdesk**headdesk* Damn you people. I didn't even like Naruto very much. Don't. Didn't. Don't.
Yes, I know Zabu didn't have his bigass sword at graduation, and that he got it later. It's meant to be a sarcastic aside.
-Griever
caution, runaway muse!
When tact is required, use brute force. When force is required, use greater force.
When the greatest force is required, use your head. Surprise is everything. - The Book of Cataclysm