Characters: Kakuzu, Yugito, some random dude
Summary: Kakuzu is possessive, Yugito is not too fond of the consequences
Dust clung to Yugito, stuck to her sweat, probably forming a yellow-brownish layer in the tender folds of skin on the inside of her elbow and between her fingers and toes. They had been separated from Hidan during the skirmish. Yugito recalled the last time she had seen the man, his eyes blithe and wild and his skin already blackened and was not sure if she should hope that he would find them in this village where they had taken shelter. The pub was dingy, but it had been the first place they had come by when they had entered the town. On top of that it was not as blistering hot inside as it was in the streets and she supposed that this was enough to make up for pretty much anything. She spread her hands on the faded polish of the bar, letting the cool seep into tendon and muscle.
Kakuzu moved beside her, a not quite slow, rolling motion running through all of his body as if he was trying to find a more comfortable position, or maybe it was just one of golems stretching within him. His wrappings were firmly in place, but she supposed he would want them down in this weather. They had turned their cloaks inside-out, so while the red clouds remained invisible, his arms were covered, too. Yet she could see the muscle flex beneath the black fabric, indicating that there was something dark and tense in him and maybe a bit of what she guessed might be weariness.
Something caught her eye at the corner of her vision, her body suddenly taut, warrior-reflexes kicking in. A man at the other side of the pub was looking at her directly. She looked at him in turn and then away, not sure if it had been him who had caught her attention. Then she regarded him again. The man raised both eyebrows, broad smile perfectly in place. Again she turned her head, this time away.
“Lady” he called softly. Then louder: “Lady”. A stool scraped over the tiled floor and next it was loud, civilian footsteps that she heard.
She stood up abruptly. “I need to go” she told Kakuzu, knowing that this might become ugly whether he joined in or not. A fact that probably meant, that there was no wrong decision in this just like there was no right one.
Kakuzu huffed, his eyes prickling on her back as she left the inn and positioned herself in the alley before its entrance. There she waited, but not for very long.
“No need to run” the man said, sounding almost apologetic and looking at him Yugito had to wonder if he was an idiot for not seeing that she was a shinobi.
“No” she answered him calmly. “And now go home.” He had stopped approaching her, standing further away from her than one would for normal conversation with his head slightly tilted to one side, both unsure and attentive. “Look, I’m sorry if I upset you.” he tried once.
“Go” she repeated, willing the man to comply.
“Okay” he said once, hands raised slightly in a gesture probably meant to be reassuring. Then again: “Okay.” He took one step backward, still facing her, before he stopped, eyes suddenly becoming much wider than before. Thin, dexterous cord was wrapped around his neck like some black hand, pressing a blade to that spot where his pulse had to be hammering against his skin while other strands of thread seemed to be searching, pushing against skin, but not yet pushing through. Kakuzu was fast, she knew, probably as fast as she was with her much lighter frame, something she had experienced firsthand in fact.
“Stop!” Yugito called and did not know where that special cadence came from. A voice she had last used in Cloud, a thing that possessed that special tremor only to be found in orders. Now standing surprisingly close to her, he yanked his wrappings down, baring his scarred face to than man, thread not only spilling form inside his sleeve, but also from between his lips. The man’s eyes fixed upon Kakuzu’s mangled features and his much-too-calm inverse colored gaze, terror ghosting over his features.
“He was about to go” she said. The cat picked up on her anger, hissing and making small, eerily human tortured-child-noises, that reverberated somewhere deep in the space that her lungs usually used to expand, appalling her with its strangeness.
Kakuzu looked at the man and then at her. A cord applied a bit more force, and Yugito saw it dip a bit deeper into the man’s neck, the knife probably pressing down a bit harder. Skin was tough, she knew, but it was also something that Kakuzu could tear apart, dark fibres penetrating fat and muscle and bone.
“Kakuzu” she said again slowly, trying to sound more pleading or at least less demanding.
A smile pulled at that spot where a normal man’s lips would meet. Wordlessly the cords drew back from the man’s neck, rose with an unnatural swaying slowness and let the blade hang in front of her, for her to take.