Mysterious Kunoichi (Part 1 of 2 in the MK Series)

Phoenix

The needle pricked my skin and I felt myself tense and relax with each tap the artist gave. My skin burning like a cat had scratched me. I had opted to have her complete the tattoo in one session. She was surprised, but by the look in my eyes, she didn't argue.

The feeling was one of solace. I let the pain wrap me in a soothing blanket of comfort. It may sound sick and sadistic: it was. It was how my mind and body coped with emotions. This world of politics and nin was one of no emotions.

This was all a test. My entire life, a test. A test of the strongest wills. The strongest fighters. The strongest hearts. Who would break first? Who would cripple and crumble under the pressure? Who would come crawling back? Who would tuck tail and run away? Who would turn their back on you? Who could you trust?

She offered me a cigarette and I gladly accepted. She placed it in my mouth and even lit it for me. I thought of Asuma as I took a long drag. The nicotine and tobacco added to the high I was feeling. The woman had warned me that it was going to hurt, especially after I showed her where I wanted the tattoo. My side. From under my breast to my hip. After the shared cigarette break, she continued her artwork, my skin her canvas.

Hours later, I stepped onto her porch, topless, letting the harsh wind whip against my tender flesh. I hissed at the feeling. I held my breast and lifted my arm, allowing the woman to add salve to my body.

"I would use bindings while it heels."

"Yes."

"Here. Apply it at least four times a day. It should heal in a weeks time that way."

"Thank you."

I dug around in my pocket for money and looked at her in question. She shook her head.

"Nothing."

"What?"

"You owe me nothing. Just remember to come back if you want another."

"You can't be serious, this took all night."

"A thank you." She looked at her mantle through the open door, "You brought my son back to me, years ago."

The picture on her mantle was of a man, likely in his early twenties in the photo. He held an ANBU mask in his hand and smiled happily. Light brown hair and soft violet eyes.

"I'll never forget the story. The female Archer that saved his life."

"How did you know it was me?"

"Your name. You told him your name even though you shouldn't have."

I smiled lightly, remembering the event. "Thank you."

"I hope the tattoo offered some help for whatever you're going through."

"A wise woman. It did. Greatly."

I pulled my shirt on and stepped out into the night. The village was still quiet. It was midnight, at least. I made my way to the jonin bar that I knew would be open. It wasn't ideal, I'd know at least one person for sure, but I didn't want to go home. Not yet.

I slinked into the bar like a cat, unnoticed and unwanted. I found a corner stool, near the rear exit and took it. The bar tender greeted me with a knowing look and poured without question. I took a second to scan the bar a noticed a few faces I knew. None I wanted to speak to. I made myself as small as possible as I drowned myself in sake.

"Hime," dammit, "should you really be drinking?"

"Should you really be lecturing me about drinking?"

"Come on!" He stiffly hit my back, causing me to wince, "At least let me join you."

"Gah!" I tried to stay quiet, but the burn from his hit to the fresh tattoo hurt.