Chapter 6 Meeting An Odd Child

I do not own Naruto

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Kisame Hoshigaki is severely disgruntled when he learns that there will be no training today. He is even more upset when he learns his shisho is blowing off training for a visit to a brothel. He is completely annoyed when he is told that he is to be joining his teacher's visit.

He is wholly pissed when, after all of this nonsense, he is stuck in a room and told to wait.

So when the knock comes and a husky voice politely inquires if a cup of tea would please him and he affirms, he is not exactly in the mood to see a well-dressed brat step through, see his appearance, and freeze.

He scowls at the girl. Of course, the little thing would be scared of his looks, his strangely coloured skin and blade-like teeth. This is exactly what I need, he thinks sarcastically, a little whore's daughter to step in and act all horrified, maybe call for help because a demon got into their shitty brothel. This soft looking little girl wouldn't last a second on the streets or in the field, with her silky looking hair and clean civilian hands that have calluses and ...scars... on the... knuckles…

Kisame looks up, meets coal-black eyes, and is instantly perplexed.

"My fucking God, you're beautiful," the brat's husky voice breathes out.

Suddenly there is a rush of movement and the tea is on the table and a brat's fearless hands in his face. He makes a startling choking noise, thrown off by the words, and then the girl, who can't be older than six, is in his personal space. Her chubby hands are running over his cheekbones, the ends of her fingers rubbing his skin. They stay there for only a few seconds before they are moving up into his hair, and she makes the strangest cooing noise when she touches it, digging her small hands into the blue locks gently and making odd sounds between her sudden blabbering.

"Oh my God, oh my fucking God! Look at you!" A cheery squeak," You're all… young and stuff! And here I am, with the great honour of touching the Hoshigaki Kisame! I would fucking cream my jeans if my body had any hormones." She laughs at her own words and continues, "Sweet bundles of baby kittens, you are precious. What are you, twelve? Thirteen? And already tall as a fucking oak tree, hah! You gotta be shittin' me! How—Atckhh!" and finally she makes a gurgling, choking noise.

A hand is wrapped around the back of the girl's kimono, tugging her away, and he can breathe again. Kisame is appalled by the woman's silent and abrupt entry; so quiet even he could not hear it. This newcomer was no simple whore. He looks up and catches the eye of another woman with salt and pepper hair pulled tight into the style of a geisha, she painted crimson mouth turned into a polite smile and her hazel eyes sparkling. It is her aged hand that is wrapped tightly around the child's clothes, and the little girl suddenly looks very, very nervous.

"Okaa-sama, no, I just was greeting this young gentleman—" the sweating child tries to explain, eyes darting frantically to him, their dark depths practically begging for help.

He's too shocked to do anything right now, not that he would anyway.

"One moment please, young sir," the elderly matron says in a sweet, venomous voice, dragging the brat away. The brat was valiantly attempting to wriggle out of her clothing to getaway. The two disappear out the door, which is slid shut behind them, and Kisame is left alone to stare at his cup of steaming tea in pure bewilderment.

Then, from behind his screen, he can hear them again. This whole thing seems to have turned into some strange kabuki theatre. He expected an uncomfortable visit, maybe having to receive 'The Talk' from shisho. Probably a version with far too many sword euphemisms. Perhaps he was going to sit here until his teacher... finished, and then they would train. In one horrible scenario, his teacher might have forced him into a room with one of the girls. He did not expect 'inadvertently listening in on a brat's punishment' to be on the schedule.

"No Okaa-sama! Have mercy, mercy!" the child's voice cries out, and it is followed by the sound of something solid hitting soft flesh several times in rapid succession, followed by a keening wail.

Kisame winces and shifts in his seated place in sympathy. He knows the sound of a good swatting when he hears it. Maybe the little whore's daughter could survive a day or two on the streets…

Suddenly the door slides open again, and there the matron is with her arms crossed, standing tall and imposing behind the kneeling figure of the kid. In a single smooth motion the child is bowing, her voice smooth and clear when he knows for a fact that she had gotten some not-so-nice corporal punishment not seconds before.

"Please forgive me, sir. I was shown the error of my ways. I endeavour to better entertain you in the future," she intones apologetically.

Satisfied, the matron nods and goes to leave, but not before sending steely eyes towards the—probably—faux repentant child.

The door slides closed and the kid zips back up, sending a disgusted look at the closed screen, her nose wrinkled and eyes narrowed.

"Fuckin' bitch." she spits venomously, ignoring him.

Kisame can't take this anymore.

"What?"

"What do mean what?" she replies haughtily, turning to face him.

Kisame's eyes flash, and he locks eyes with the brat again. He is flustered and off-balance, and he knows that can lead to nothing good.

"I mean," he grits out between clenched teeth, "What the hell just happened? Why did any of that happen? Why did you touch me? Who the hell are you?"

The girl's gaze is surprisingly cool for a moment, and it reminds him of the looks he sees older jounin give the fresh genin. It is boring, detached, and dismissive. It is infuriating.

"I'm a liar. But most people just call me Ryuishi," she says.

He is momentarily taken aback by the bluntness of her words, then notices that she answered exactly none of his questions, and finally wonders about the truth of the statement. Can a liar be a liar if the very first thing they tell you about themselves is that single fact? It does explain all the compliments before, but it is no skin off his back if that is the case. It seems the whole episode cost her skin off of hers. Either way, it does not explain the lack of fear, the insistent touches.

"So the whole thing was a show for the old lady?" He guesses, confused.

Ahe snorts and scoots closer, away from the door, nearer to him. He is still confused.

"No, not really. I guess I was just really excited to see you, especially since you're… well, just look at you. So cute and young and adorable."

"I'm older than you. And you just admitted to being a liar," he grouses, eyeing her warily, "I hate liars."

The girl shrugs and makes an unconcerned face. "Even liars can't lie all the time. That would be exhausting. You just have to figure out when they're telling the truth and when they're not." She holds up a finger for a moment and then points it at him. "Hint: this time, I was not."

She pauses for a moment before a fox's smile stretches across her face.

"Lying, that is. I wasn't lying."

He doubts that. It does not seem to matter though, so he picks up his tea and gives it a sniff, unable to detect anything poisonous about it. It smells simply of strong oolong, nothing more. He would have preferred some sugar in it, but he will deal with what he was given. Kisame decides to ignore her and just-drinks his tea. He takes a sip—

"Can I play with your hair?"

—and promptly chokes on it, coughing and sputtering liquid all over the table. Still hacking, he viciously wipes away the liquid around his mouth and swivels around to look at the kid. She is sitting still, watching him calmly, a tiny smile curling the side of her lips upward. She is every image of a miniature hostess. He glares at her.

"You did that on purpose, you brat!"

"Yes. But I also want to play with your hair. I am an innocent, adorable, naive six-year-old. I have found interest in your wild blue locks, and desire to delight myself by playing with your fucking hair. Will you indulge the cutesy whims of a child?"

"Adorable? Now I know you're a liar," he scoffs out.

"Okay, maybe not adorable. I still wanna play with your hair though."

Kisame groans dramatically and goes to stare mournfully into his cup of tea, trying to find answers in the opaque green liquid. Why did his shisho bring him here? Why is this brat so annoying? What does she want with him? Why is she sitting so close?

"Look," he begins forcefully. "I know you don't want to do that. I get that you have to put on a good show for the matron, but no you can't touch my hair. I bet you don't even want to touch it, anyways. So you can go back to whatever whore's kids do, and tell your boss that the scary shark kid sent you away—"

There's a tiny hand in his mouth.

It tastes like salt and bitter herbs.

His expression must be a thing of beauty, because her look is triumphant, her smile smug and victorious.

"Ok, first things first ROH hiu kecil, you have some options here. " Her fingers wriggle a little across his tongue, but he is too astounded to do little more than a gag. "You can choose to see my hand in your mouth as an attack and treat it as such. You can chomp my hand off with those crazy fucking teeth of yours and I can live my entire shitty life without the use of this limb. You won't get in trouble, because you're a genin, a valuable asset to the village, while I am nothing more than an akasenko, a whore's kid, a civilian. You can be just like any other low-level shinobi."

She pauses there and looks him in the eyes, the smile slipping off her face. There is saliva dripping down her wrist. Her eyes are sharp for a kid, they are bright and much too observant.

"Or, you can believe that I chose not to attack you. You can choose to believe that I stuck my hand in the mouth of a 'scary shark kid', the most dangerous-looking physical feature you have, to show him that his skin colour, his eyes, his knife-like teeth mean nothing to me. You can choose to believe that I am giving a stranger the ability to take this hand away from me forever, with no cost to them, to prove I can think for my god damned self."

The brat is as unrelenting as the oncoming tide, her arm extended fully, her weak little wrist placed placidly between his jagged teeth. Already he can taste blood from the scrapes she got while jamming her hands inside. Her eyes are meeting his unflinchingly, and he narrows his own, momentarily stiffening his jaw and increasing the pressure on her wrist. Her jaw clenches in preparation for the pain, her nostrils flaring, but she does not flail and try to scramble away.

She is standing beside this gamble, ready to pay the toll if her guess is wrong.

There is a long moment, and he opens his mouth and pushes her spit-covered hand out of his mouth with his tongue, watching it fall to her lap.

He immediately goes for his tea, swishing it around his mouth vigorously. She laughs.

"Aw, c'mon, that's hurtful. I don't have that many germs," she chuckles out, discreetly wiping her hand on the bottom of her robes, lightly dabbing at the thin lines of red.

He looks at her again, seeing her in a new light.

"You have got to be the weirdest, stupidest brat I have ever met. Who does that, who is that stupid? I could have just pushed you back and then walked away, what then? What if I did just bite your hand off?" He exclaims after swallowing his fourth mouthful, turning on her with a judgmental expression.

"Well, I would have gotten my fucking answer. Now I get to play with your hair," she remarks, smiling back on her face, hand reaching forward. He snorts and bats it out of the air with ease. He won't be caught off guard again, not by this little brat.

"No, you do not! I never said that."

She drops her hand with a forlorn sigh, looking up at him through squinted coal orbs. Kisame pins them against his own from the corner of his eyes.

"You're bustin' my balls here, kid."

"You have a foul mouth for a six-year-old girl." He pauses. "And I'm older than you."

It is her turn to snort. "I live in a brothel, not a monastery. Forgive me if hookers are a terrible influence."

Kisame, very skillfully, does not choke again. He supposes he will have to get used to things like this if he takes an interest in this brat. And isn't that strange, him taking a liking to her odd ways. Well, more like a forced acceptance. She didn't give him much choice. He decides the best way to deal with this is to ignore her.

"So, what? I play super duper cute baby hostess while yah drink yah shitty tea? Is that's how it's gonna be?" she queries, voice lilting like a cheap thug's.

He enjoys the delicate balance of bitter and smoky on his tongue for a moment, seemingly deep in thought. His small orbs trace the patterns of light that escape through the thin screen, watching dust motes dance in the air. The air is calm and smells like the garden in the square outside. This is a nice brothel, he muses, much better than many in the district. It must cost at least a B-rank for a night, at least. Somehow, the stink of the city is gone and the building fosters an aura of tranquillity and peace.

"Oi! You better not be ignoring me!" She hisses, leaning closer, "I ain't gonna play games with a fucking tween who can't even pop a boner. Listen here, slick—"

The wood panelling is a nice touch, he thinks. It's a nice break from the concrete that is so common in Kiri. He takes another sip of his tea, it is quite good. The ambience of the place must be nice at night, and he imagines that the red lights of the district must settle quite nicely over the soft, warm tones they used to colour the establishment.

"—that's it, I take it back. I don't wanna play with your hair. It's not nice at all, doesn't look soft or fluffy or nothin'. I lied like a lying liar. Yah wanna fuckin fight? 'Cause, genin or not-"

"Oh? Did I hear that right, little girl?"

The two jump at the voice, and Kisame whips his head around to face the gargantuan man standing in the doorway behind them. His form is enormous, and can barely fit through the doorway. Coupled with the giant sword on his back, he cuts an imposing figure.

"Shishou," Kisame greets.

There is a sharp inhale from the girl beside him, and she makes a swift movement away so that there is a respectable distance between the two. Her jaw clenches tight, but there is suddenly a submissive, welcoming smile on her face as she looks at his teacher.

"It is my pleasure to make you acquaintance, sir," she murmurs, a complete one-eighty from her previous nattering, husky tone.

His teacher scoffs and scowls down at the girl, his eyes darting to her hands, taking in the hardened skin there, and the blood on her wrist. He notes that she respectfully does not meet his gaze, and instead bows her head to face the ground.

"Did I or did I not just hear you challenge my student?" He grunts out, letting the girl feel the full weight of his gaze. "Lie and I will send you right here, girl."

"I am flattered that you would waste so much effort on a flea like me, sir—" she defers softly, her body language lax.

"—Don't attempt to flatter your way out, or direct my attention elsewhere again. Answer the question," he orders.

Kisame is quiet and accepting, but he does not understand why his teacher is so upset about the girl. She is just a kid, and kids talk crap all the time. It was one thing if a fellow genin, or even if a chunin disregarded him and threatened him. Those would be a slight not only to his skill but his shishou's ability as a teacher. But coming from a civilian? That was no threat to a swordsman's honour. So why was he acting this way?

The girl breathes out a soft sigh and looks up, finally showing her face to his teacher.

"Yes, sir. I did challenge your student to a spar," she admits, her tone remorseful.

He examines her closely and then looks at his student speculatively. His student suddenly feels a little nervous, and shifts in his place, relieving some of the pressure on his legs. He waits in the awkward silence patiently.

"He accepts. Now, in the outer courtyard."

Kisame is aghast. Him against a civilian? It's going to be a slaughter! If he wins, he's a bully, if he refuses, he forfeits and becomes a laughingstock. This whole thing has to be a joke! His mouth is suddenly dry despite the tea.

He does not want to be either of those things.

"Kagami Okaa-sama would be—" she begins, apparently smart enough to realize what a death trap this is.

"Kagami has already entered negotiations with me on the subject of your Mizuage."

The girl chokes on her spit, whipping her head up to look his teacher in the face, throwing away any feigned respect. Her eyes dart around his solid form, desperately searching for any hint of a lie. She is frantic in her observation, trying to snuff out any signal or sign of untruth. When she finds none, her small face is instantly filled with fury. Her hands tighten into fists and tremble at her side. Her tan skin is flushed red, and her jaw is clenched so tight he can hear her teeth creaking. She is openly glaring at the behemoth shinobi, her nostrils flaring and eyes filled with anger.

"You will spar with my student in the outer courtyard, or I will offer her something she cannot refuse." He commands her, his eyes dangerous.

The girl leaps to her feet, hands fisted by her side, and meets his eyes hatefully. She holds them for a long moment before stomping away towards the designated arena.

"Shishou, she's just—" Kisame begins.

His teacher turns on him, his gaze calm and maybe a little bloodthirsty. His grin reveals rows of sharp, pointed teeth and an unbearable smugness.

"Kisame, listen close." he says in a lecturing tone, "That brat's Okiya Mother called me in to pay for an old favour. She says the girl is loud, blunt and too cunning for her good. I thought she was lying. But you know what changed my mind?" he questions.

Kisame gulps. The man's tone does not bode well.

"No sir," he answers.

"About the same time Kagami-san called, I got word from the owner of Kubikiribocho. His student, who is still in the academy, told him about somebody, who fits the girl's description, brutally and efficiently taking down a hostile by tearing their throat out with her teeth. While being caught in a hold. Everybody is confused as to why such a good prospect is not in the Academy, especially with tensions running so high." his sensei tells him.

Kisame almost couldn't believe it. The girl was six!

But…

But the girl's eyes were too observant, and she was completely unafraid to touch him, to engage in conversation with someone who looked like he did. She was quick enough to touch him before he could stop her when she first came in. She was apathetic enough to stick her hand in his mouth and not care about the pain of the cuts later.

Usually, they chose Academy candidates by picking up the tougher ringleaders of the orphans and then mixing them with the clan kids. It's how Kisame himself was chosen. Almost all of the children had a body count before they even began, directly or indirectly.

He supposed this girl was no different.

"I understand, Shishou," he grunts out, crossing his arms.

Then he trails out behind his teacher to fight a six-year-old.

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AN: Kecil hiu ROH (Little shark spirit), in Indonesian. Vague, but there. Also, cannon characters! Yay! Double also, hints that Ryuishi took her pledge to train a bit seriously. But, don't expect it to show much from the next chapter. It's only been about a year, with no teacher or assistance in form.

As for the orphan thing, it seems to me every Kiri nin shown is some kind of crazy orphan. Like, the entire village might be filled with orphans. I think that kids might have run of low things on the streets, under the supervision of older, more experienced people, much how gangs work in third world countries. It would make sense that the academy, which canonically supports bloodsport and encourages violence, would get to pick the cream of the crop.

I would also like to thank my beautiful new soundboard, the Hate Child! Bless their wonderful soul.