Naruto Fan Fiction ❯ Jyuuken ❯ Baby Steps ( Chapter 7 )

Awwright, I- in my in-finite wisdom- have decided to make this a short chapter, purely because of the difficulty I've been having in writing it. I'd liken it to…trying to get a straight answer out of an indecisive politician. It happens, but not often, and it doesn't necessarily tell the truth.
…I feel like I just said something really profound just then.

Disclaimer: If I owned Naruto (id est, if I was Kishimoto Masashi) I wouldn't be writing this. Particularly not at this time, in this freezing room, with light pockets and a cold.

 

The process of recovery was…gradual, but it wasn't exactly surprising that his total expected recovery time exceeded two weeks. His lungs seemed to be working well- but, when in doubt, take extra care. And he was now only a few days away from being released into the larger world.

His physical condition hadn't degraded much during his stay, but the staff apparently thought it prudent to bore him with physiotherapy anyway. Still, he was much more interested in doing something other than lying in a bed. Since his options on this matter were somewhat limited, he basically sat in a chair all day instead, staring out the window and watching people go about their business- sometimes to the people's unease.

He also read from a selection of brand new books, bought as a kind of celebratory gift for not dying, he guessed. They were certainly…varied. There wasn't really much similarity between the books, apart from that they had, maybe, been purchased at the same store. There was a thick hardcover on the history of Konoha, a much slimmer book filled with pictures of exotic and local wildlife, an omnibus of famous people- slightly out-of-date, a copy of “Taijutsu For Dummies,” and a very thin one printed on large, thin pages that he was given to understand was called a “magazine.” It was probably of the type favoured by girls, since most of it was pink. The last thing, which had been hiding at the bottom of the bag they had come in and was probably best not described as a book, was a large, folded poster. It was a sort of local advertising pamphlet for the people in the village, mostly to do with special sale offers.

Overall, the books were tedious, the magazine was perplexing, and the pamphlet, while possibly useful to someone not confined to a hospital room, was pointless to him.

He read through them all anyway. It wasn't like he had anything else to do in-between visits from Hinata and Sakura.

Outside the window had been catching his attention more recently. He'd seen enough blank white walls and books for a good while, so he spent a great deal of time watching the village…happen. Ninja dashed from building to building, townsfolk did ordinary things, which mystified Kimimaro somewhat -having been nothing but a tool of war his entire life- and children played. They were the more interesting to watch. Even though they were just doing children-like things, like running around, and bleeding, and trying to use Jutsu they were just a bit too inexperienced to use properly -simple, childhood games.

Kimimaro envied them a bit. So carefree- doing whatever they got into their heads to do. So…free…

Kimimaro's train of thought, imagining himself playing amongst the children (despite the incredible awkwardness), came to a screeching halt as he felt two explosions of Chakra somewhere above him.

The two opposing forces had been growing in hostility steadily for a while, but Kimimaro hadn't taken notice of them until that moment, because it was suddenly so different. Two people were about to kill each other. Two shinobi were going to face one another, each focusing only on the enmity they felt towards the other, and use techniques- which knew no purpose but to kill- against their target.

In morbid fascination, Kimimaro watched the Ninjutsu escalate in force as though he could see through the ceiling and be there himself. He watched the two enemies launch themselves, and watched as a third presence suddenly appeared and disrupted the fight, causing both Jutsu to discharge against the building harmlessly.

After the plaster stopped raining down on him, he brushed the dust out of his hair, eyebrows, eyelashes, and off his face, never looking away from the ceiling.

What was this emotion? Apprehension, disappointment, panic, contempt, exhilaration, revelation, cold approval…What was it?

 

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Apprehension ended up being a surprising fit, in retrospect, but that was only if he used it out-of-context. If he used it at all.

At that moment, all things considered, he was much more interested in being…quiet. And subtle. And…not there. Distaste aside, he had chosen to sleep in his bed, where he was now firmly awake and troubled. He was even masking his chakra in the hope that they wouldn't notice him.

Truth be told, it wouldn't matter a great deal if they did notice him, since they were no match for him- but they could make things…complicated.

After all, they were the Sound Four, Orochimaru's most powerful soldiers. And they knew him.

Fortunately, they also “knew” that he was dead, as did their master. Their presence in the village was suspicious, but probably not related to him since they were currently engaged in combat with a single shinobi. The same one that had been fighting on the roof earlier that day.

Tempting as it was to look out the window and see who it was, that was probably not the best idea. So, he remained hidden until the fight dissipated. Even then he didn't look out the window, at the defeated Konoha shinobi. Who seemed to have a Cursed Seal of his own.

 

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When Hinata walked through the village the next morning, she had a feeling that something was amiss. It was normal to see shinobi dashing around the village, but there hadn't been so much clamour since the Oto no Gakure invasion.

Whatever had happened, they were trying to keep it quiet.

Once inside the hospital, she started hearing snippets of conversations. Something about Uchiha Sasuke.

She reached Kimimaro's door, pausing for a few seconds before knocking for reasons which still eluded her.

`G-good morning…' she noticed something out of place when he turned to look at her, `…Kimimaro-kun...'

It didn't take long to figure out what it was.

`Good morning,' said a somewhat unfamiliar Kimimaro. The face was right, the expression was right, the body was right; but the hair was different. During the time she had known him, he hadn't exactly neglected his hair, nor did he pay it any particular attention. But this was the first time she had seen it shorter than usual. It no longer reached his shoulders, instead, it terminated suddenly just past his chin- even, all the way around. The red clasps that had held tufts of long hair were absent, and his familiar zig-zag part had been replaced by a straight one. The room lay bare of any instruments he could have used to cut his hair, innocent of a means to the change.

Frivolity being absent from his select repertoire of personality traits, he didn't ask her what was wrong, since he could make an educated guess. Instead, he wanted to confirm his suspicions about the fuss around the village.

The information Hinata was able to supply him with was…disappointing, based on his reaction. But it was enough of a clue for him to have a hunch about what was going on behind the scenes. Although, given his situation, that didn't really change things other than his perceptions- nor was he any more inclined to involve himself if he could avoid it.

Changing the subject timidly, Hinata offered Kimimaro an apple. The apparently random things she brought him from time to time mystified him, but no more so than it mystified Hinata herself. She didn't know what people wanted as a present, even less so if they were male.

She was relieved when he took the apple with only minimal perplexed blinking.

Sakura did not appear at all that day.