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i. Northern Kingdoms, 1205
Kisame ate alone.
(He always ate alone.)
He ate quickly, tearing at the cool flesh of the fish, fingers slipping, oily. He devoured and devoured, spitting out bones as fast as he could swallow. His sword still dripping by his side, he ate faster, watching the horizon sliver and wobble, and come together at last. It pulsed, then alternated more quickly until the blue sky bled in the night sky, blinking.
Kisame narrowed his eyes to slits, pressure building at the back of his skull. The cadavers of the monsters at his feet flickered, lush green underneath.
He smelled burnt wood and blood.
He didn't smell burnt wood, only blood.
Before he could hear the voice, Kisame threw away the rest of his fish, swallowing quickly. Wiping his hands on his pants, he stood up.
He hesitated, the back of his neck prickling, the threat of the woman's voice licking at the shell of his ear.
When he turned his back to the sky, the world was once more whole, heavy with warm colours. The sun set, the clouds reset to their original positions, and Kisame walked like he hadn't come close to slipping between a grass that was streaked with blood and one that was lush, untouched, far away, in another world.
Kisame shook his head. He couldn't think about that now, how it didn't fit. 'Another timeline,' he immediately banished the thought.
Instead, he nudged with his boots at the decapitated head's of the vampires. They would bring back 100 gold coins each. Yes, everything was in their rightful places; they still were witchers, and the creatures were still dead.
Their horses still neighed faintly, gleaming black and red eyes.
Kisame's boots still dug in blood and guts, softening mud as he pushed through the low hanging branches of the creaking trees.
Suigetsu was still retching, his hand clawing at the bark of the tree where he was leaning.
Everything was right.
'In this world,' he added inadvertently, and his mouth filled with blood. His head pounded.
He looked once more over his shoulder at the sky.
Everything was still right.
With controlled intakes, Kisame broke an annoying branch off and leaned over a tree, waiting for Suigetsu to finish. The boy had done a better job than he had expected for a first-timer. His sword drew unnecessary arcs in the air, and he was sloppy, but he almost always hit true while taking minimum damage.
"You did better than expected," Kisame said, amused, when the retching finally receded.
Suigetsu raised a pale face toward him, his own fish teeth digging in his white lips. His pupils were dilated, vibrating. With his leather body armour, he almost looked like a ghoul. Kisame grinned.
"F-fuck," Suigetsu said weakly and wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand.
"You shouldn't curse at your age. I told you to eat before drinking your vial. These vials are much more potent than at School."
"You ate after," Suigetsu said roughly and pushed himself off the tree. He took a tentative step, blinking fast.
"I always eat alone," Kisame said evenly. "Now, let's hurry. I want to sleep in a warm bed tonight."
Suigetsu grimaced and followed him on wobbly legs, pausing momentarily when his stomach hurt.
Calmly, Kisame looked over the corpses, his hands on his hips.
Suigetsu's senses were still sharper than usual, enhanced by the vials. He covered his nose and mouth. Fresh kills stank, he had never noticed with the vials at the School.
"Do we all strap them to the horses?" Suigetsu asked in a squeaky voice muffled by his hand.
Kisame grinned, his face darkening, pulling at shadows in the setting sun. His skin gleamed with sweat, pale blue, turned grey in the warmer light.
"No need to burden ourselves. The teeth will do."
Suigetsu wrinkled his nose, hesitating.
"How much will we get for the three of them?"
"It's not about the reward," Kisame purred and glanced down the head nearest him. His smile stretched, revealing all his teeth.
"It isn't?"
Suigetsu frowned, looking back at his mentor.
Kisame's grin slit his face, brutal, his shark face stiffening with the scent of blood.
"Fuck, you're creepy," Suigetsu said lightly and sat on his heels, matching his movements to his mentor.
"Language," Kisame said lightly and kept working on the teeth.
Faintly, he wondered what they ate last before they turned. He felt Suigetsu's glance on him.
"Well? What is it about if not the reward?"
Kisame didn't reply. Soon Suigetsu would learn, he thought.
It was about the churned teeth, rolled teeth, and the present that unfolded. Wasn't it always the same? To pull teeth. To watch them rot. To kill. Wasn't it always the same, death?
Bloodied teeth.
Uselessly walking a world full of monsters, killing and breathing, until a monster killed them.
To bite or be bitten.
They left the village the next day, under heavy snow, their hoods low over their eyes. Their mounts neighed, pushing through snow and sharp winds. The medallion of the School of the Shark gleamed dully under their chin.
They almost looked human, and their purse was heavy. And that what most worried Kisame. Their departure from the village had been hasty.
Suigetsu was impulsive and careless in both his words and manners; they had left the village quicker than expected because of the boy could not hold his tongue. They had been lucky to escape with the price money from their kills.
"I said I was sorry," Suigetsu grumbled.
"This is the second time..." Kisame trailed off, his voice light and polite. "I don't want to hear a word from you now. Thank you."
Suigetsu nodded slowly, his lips curling over his pointy teeth. He shifted on his saddle, and Kisame closed his eyes, gritting his teeth.
Shortly after, Suigetsu was nearly bouncing off his horse with febrile energy, watching his mentor with sparkling eyes.
"Can I have your sword?"
"Are you a full-pledged witcher yet?"
"No, but can I-"
"No," Kisame flatly cut him off and smiled.
He already regretted not killing the boy earlier. Suigetsu slowed him down, he liked to think, but the truth was Kisame never truly was in a hurry to somewhere. He followed monsters, collected money; there was nothing else to his life.
It aggravated Kisame, Suigetsu's presence, and his sword at the tip of his fingertips. He should kill the boy and be once more alone, feeling his teeth, counting them. Undisturbed.
Kisame glanced at him.
His head low, Suigetsu grunted and didn't say another word until they reached the next village. Kisame told himself that was why he let Suigetsu survive. Silence.
The inn Kisame chose was slightly outside of the village, hidden by silver cracked trees whipped by the winter wind. Inside, they were the only witchers, but the other customers ranged from petty criminals to halflings who couldn't find a bed elsewhere.
The innkeeper asked no question.
As Kisame paid the chubby man, he swiftly grabbed Suigetsu's hand before it could touch his sword. He focused on a spot over the innkeeper's head. He sighed deeply, squeezing the wrist until Suigetsu gasped and swore.
Bored, the innkeeper lifted his gaze, then turned away to serve another customer.
"I asked you not to touch my sword, boy," Kisame said lightly, and he smiled wide, more teeth, more animal than man.
"And I told you I wanted it," Suigetsu struggled against him, baring his teeth. "The sword they gave me is useless!"
Kisame shifted his weight, still grinning, as he always did when he was particularly annoyed and in a murderous mood. He should be roaming the realms alone, he decided. He would kill the boy in the morning.
"Please, don't make me cut off your sword hand," Kisame said and licked his lips.
Suigetsu tried to wriggle his hand free, cursing heavily. The innkeeper grunted and droned on with the menu of the evening to a nearby customer, still ignoring them. Kisame's eyes flickered across the room; no one was paying any heed to them.
"We'll eat dinner in our room," Kisame said loudly to the innkeeper, his eyes boring through Suigetsu. His grin didn't waver.
Without missing a beat, the innkeeper noted his order and bowed his shaven head.
"Why are you always so weird about eating-" Suigetsu grimaced and bending his knees. His face turned red then pale from the pain. "God! Fine! Release me, I won't trying touching it anymore."
After a moment of hesitation, Kisame released him and added a copper coin on the counter.
"Just one ale."
"HEY!"
Kisame glanced over his shoulder, his smile stretching, crooked. He was going to kill that boy now. Instead, he frowned, his fingers wiggling, sparkling with restless magic.
Suigetsu was standing in the middle of the communal room, a drunken man towering over him. The man wore unmarked black robes, over a muddied soldier's uniform.
The innkeeper sighed and disappeared from the stiffening room.
Nonchalantly, Kisame touched the sword strapped to his back, the shark medallion sliding across his chest.
Suigetsu took a step back, his arms stretched out. He looked down at the ale dripping down his chest and swore again.
The knight laughed broadly, his friends already raising to their feet at their table. Kisame briefly closed his eyes. He wondered whether murdering them would quench his need to murder the boy. It used to, he thought wildly.
It used to be enough, wielding the sword, counting teeth, and then... Then, he glimpsed at a torn sky, and a voice offered him company.
His hand slowly wrapped around the pommel of his long sword.
"I didn't see you, beast," the knight now said, waving his empty cup around.
His face was blotched, red and oily, his hair sticking to his skull.
"Then, you should apologize." Kisame said casually, almost purring.
"I should, eh?" the knight shouted, exposing rotten teeth, then turned toward his companions: "Hey, should I apologize to the mermen?"
Suigetsu flushed angrily, balling his fists at his sides. Each School of witchers instilled careful mutations in their pupils. As Kisame and Suigetsu both came from the School of the Shark, their genes had mutated with one of a shark.
Kisame was amused that the boy cared as much about being called human. The School truly sheltered its pupils now.
He shrugged off his cloak, grinning more widely now. Those who noticed the medallion, kept talking among themselves.
"We aren't-" Suigetsu began through his teeth.
"Suigetsu, stay level-headed, please," Kisame cut him off and stood between the knight and his apprentice. He lowered his voice, towering over the man: "I apologize for his behaviour."
He clasped Suigetsu's shoulder in a vicious grip and forced him to take a step back.
"Yeh, fish steak," the knight slurred, nodding to himself. "We want no trouble, don't we, fellas?"
The other knights laughed loudly, sitting back down. The rest of the communal area resumed their discussion, hands letting go of weapons and releasing building up magic.
The knight raised his glass demanding more ale before slamming his cup on the counter. Stone-faced, the innkeeper reappeared and filled it.
Kisame approached the knight and leaned back against the counter. His elbow brushed against the knight's.
Suigetsu was glaring at him, his sword still unsheathed.
"I believe it's your turn to apologize for your rudeness and spilling your ale over my apprentice," Kisame said, watching out the corner of his eyes, the innkeeper sighed and retreated once more.
"Fuck off," the knight snorted and drank.
Clumsily, he tried to walk back to his table, but Kisame's hand closed around his arm. He felt the rounded flesh, the bone, and his smile bit. He tightened his grip, watching the man's face shifted from surprise to horror to pain.
"Let go, you freak!" the knight cried out, his eyes wildly rolling in their sockets.
"Now, that's not very pleasant," Kisame grinned and increased the strength of his hold, playing with the resistance of the bone.
The man screamed in pain, trying to stumble back. His drink spilled down his cup and arm.
"Apologize," Kisame ordered light and smiling.
"Fine, fine, I'm sorry!"
With a swift motion of his wrist, Kisame broke his forearm before releasing him. The knight stumbled back, screaming, only caught by his friends.
"I accept your apology," Kisame said evenly and gestured for the innkeeper. "Send hot water for a bath and the food."
Without another word, Kisame grabbed the key on the counter and pushed a grinning Suigetsu in front of him. They made their ways up the stairs, followed by screams and curses. Kisame kept pushing Suigetsu up the stairs, in front of him.
Below, the knights were crying out and swearing, but none of them dared go after a witcher.
Once Kisame closed the door of their rooms, Suigetsu glared at him.
"Why don't you just kill them? Why do you have to lick their boots first?"
"I don't lick anyone's boots. I was taught manners. I choose to use them unlike you. How are you going to do this trade if you can't keep your cool whenever someone mentions your appearance?"
"We clean the world from monsters, but we're called mermen. Can't we be angry?" Suigetsu breathed heavily, his eyes slanted, fierce.
"We're monsters," Kisame said with a shrug, and his beady eyes gleaming, hard jewels.
"What?" Suigetsu blinked.
"We're monsters," Kisame repeated and his lips twisted in a vicious grin. "Monsters kill. Monsters sleep with one eye open. This is what's required of us. We don't need to be angry. We only need to be hungry."
Suigetsu shook his head, but he took a step back. He felt like his mentor's face was peeling, revealing another face underneath. He felt he had a multitude of faces, but one grin. One cruel grin. Haunted teeth.
"You make no sense," Suigetsu choked out, shaking his head again. "Whatever! You speak like a good-for-nothing nobleman anyway. I'm done listening to you."
'And this is why I should be alone,' Kisame thought soberly. He truly needed to get rid of the boy.
"When you'll have done this trade for as long as I have," Kisame started smoothly, but there was a stiffness to him that made Suigetsu freeze. "Yes, maybe then... Maybe you'll consider how easy it is to kill humans. We have no remorse, no regret, we're just hungry. Like those knights? I'll kill them once we've found out whether the governor has a job for us here. Don't you ever wait between meals?"
Kisame's tongue poked out of his mouth, feeling the curves and angles of his smooth teeth.
There was a sharp knock on the door, and Kisame told the maids to enter in an even voice.
Their faces drawn, they curtsied and carried the steaming buckets of water inside. Slowly, they filled the bath in the next room. Once their task was done, they exited the room without another word.
"We're just hungry," Suigetsu repeated sarcastically, and it occurred to him he had rarely seen his mentor eat. They always ate separately, Kisame going through his food fast, loud, his eyes half-closed.
"That's right," Kisame now nodded and stood up, towering over him. "You should wash up first. We've imposed our grim on everyone for long enough, no?"
Suigetsu pinched his lips and closed the door after him.
Kisame cocked his head to the side, listening for any sign of trouble. As monsters did.
When the maid came back with the food, he ate alone, quick, and uncomfortable, and oh-so-hungry.
But the voice came through: 'Eat with us!'
His teeth hurt.
A beat, another sky, wind that rushed and carried death: 'I forgive you.'
He finished eating alone with torn insides, and a mind full of blood.
As monsters did.
During the night, Kisame had changed his mind again about the boy. He had left him alone for the rest of the night, morose, his anger boiling, but never erupting.
Suigetsu would live another day. As monsters did.
In front of the inn, Kisame stretched in the golden glow of the morning. The governor had left them a note for them summoning them to his manor. Snow had softened across the road, dripping down the roofs of the houses crammed at the entrance of the village.
Kisame thought it was an excellent day to hunt and kill. Before he could mention it to a grumbling Suigetsu, his body swayed back from the impact of a hooded figure bumping back into him.
"My lady!" someone yelled.
Kisame grinned, looking down at the hooded figure
He smelled blood.
But there was only darkness. He stretched upward, downward, ever shifting, the weight against him outgrowing, swallowing him. The green of her dress underneath her cloak pierced through him.
He dropped.
He jumped across.
Far. Far. Farrrr.
(In a parallel world.)
ii. England, 1944
Kisame startled awake, disoriented, and grabbed Suigetsu's hand.
('They were only vivid dreams', Kisame often told himself.
Only dreams that could devour more than he could chew.)
Trees and mountains rushed by the window, the movement of the train rattling him awake. Slowly, Kisame turned his head toward the young recruit.
The muscles of his forearm corded as he tightened his hold. For the briefest moment, his arm was blue. He squeezed harder. It turned back to olive-skin.
Wildly, he looked around him.
There was a soft murmur rumbling against his skin, melting away with the growling speed of the train.
"Shit!" Suigetsu shouted, his nails digging into Kisame's hand to free himself. He flailed his other arm, his uniform twisted, too big for him.
Kisame breathed heavily, watching him. Somehow, he remembered recruiting him because he saw himself in him. He forgot why.
"I asked you nicely... Don't touch my sword," he grinned and considered snapping the boy's wrist.
"What are you talking about?" Suigetsu cried out in pain. "You don't have a sword!"
Kisame blinked and let go of Suigetsu's hand. The boy stumbled back.
"A bit harsh on your fucking subordinate, aren't yah, Captain?" Hidan grinned from across the aisle, a cigarette pinched between his lips. "By the grace of the Lord, make it stop wailing."
"HEY!" Suigetsu shouted, red-faced, holding his arm to his chest.
"Control your thing, Captain," Hidan added viciously.
"Suigetsu, please sit down," Kisame said mechanically. "Hidan, mind your own business."
Hidan smirked at Suigetsu and shuffled the cards for Kakuzu. The older man grunted, arm crossed. Mirroring each other, they both leaned back on their seat. The other soldiers soon gathered around them, smoking and betting.
Kisame shifted his gaze to the sparser trees. They were drawing closer and closer to the front, farther from the sea.
"I meant my riffle," Kisame said smoothly, speaking to no one. "We'll reach the front soon."
Some of his men laughed broadly while others cursed. Money exchanged hands. Both Kakuzu and Hidan smirked.
No one thought of dying.
(Yet.)
They all thought of killing, with fear or duty or apathy.
Kisame leaned back against his seat, his hand rolling back until his gaze levelled with their bags packed carelessly. His hand fell on his rifle. He probed his teeth with his tongue, the gum sensitive. A metallic stench still filled his mouth.
Suigetsu, still pouting, slouched in the seat in front of him. Kisame froze, his arm tensing, stopping his hand before he could reach his mouth and feel his jaw.
"Are yah going to shoot me?" Suigetsu asked darkly. He extended his wrist, wincing, before looking up at him again. His purple eyes sparkled with mischief. "You said, you would next time I tried touching it."
"Maybe," Kisame said, his usual light tone, more tired, more clipped.
His stomach rumbled.
Suigetsu shrugged and pointed at the remains of his lunch.
"Are you gonna eat that?"
The pot of coffee still steamed faintly, reflecting his face upside-down. The sandwich next to hit was half-eaten, and Kisame could pinpoint the moment its taste curdled like ashes in his mouth and he heard her voice.
Kisame shook his head, and it was as if a drop broke his reflection in the coffee. He muddied, his jaw outgrowing sharp teeth.
He was so hungry.
(But he always ate alone.)
The train stopped at an English village near the sea. His men spread in big tents set up by previous platoons, while Kisame joined the other officers over a map to discuss the landings and future strategies.
He clenched his jaw. It hurt enough to unhinge. Enough to snap. Enough to devour the world, the map, the plan, and D-Day. Enough to watch the sky rip and fall.
It hurt enough to welcome the voice, and be haunted by the rain, and 'I forgive... I forgive you'.
Kisame closed his eyes briefly as his superior officers gave their orders.
'I forgive you.'
He clenched his fists, his gaze on the parcel of beach that would be his to take.
Monsters didn't want forgiveness.
(They also couldn't earn peace.)
At night, the camp was still buzzing with activity. On the beach, men patrolled, smoked and laughed.
Kisame stood away from his men, smoking their cigarettes, one after the other. He watched the sea. His stomach tight, rumbling. He wished he was a shark.
Instinctively, he saw flashes of blood and blue skin, and he thought it would suit him better than a soldier's uniform.
'I forgive you.'
He didn't care. A shark wouldn't.
'I forgive you.'
He saw flashes of long hair suspended in the air after a blow. Broken branches, soaked and darkened grass.
He didn't care. A shark couldn't.
'I forgive you.'
Why. Why. Why. His whole being screamed. The sky was smooth, dull, made of oppressive dark clouds that roamed freely. He felt the brush of a hand on his sleeve, and he hissed at wind that whispered: 'I forgive you.'
Everywhere was empty space, darkness, no matter where he turned to seek her. His chest heaved, his boots sank in the sand of the beach. He walked, he smoked, always pursued by the pressure of her, her croaking voice.
Her dying breath.
Kisame turned sharply, icy sweat gathering at the nape of his neck. Who was she to forgive him? He wanted to shout. Who was she to break the sky, to seek him across worlds, to push him across with the faintest touch?
Kisame wiped at his face. He wanted to be alone. He wanted to kill and count teeth with a prodding tongue when he smiled over cadavers.
He butted his cigarette with his heel, still breathing heavily. His spiky dark hair fell in his eyes. The sand quivered and rolled down the heap of sand. He startled, looking up at the darkened shadow of another officer above ground. She blinked in surprise, then smiled, rising her cup of coffee in a salute. Her uniform floated around her frame, unmarked with ranks and her name.
She drank.
Kisame didn't salute back, he spun on his heels and start to walk away.
"Do you want some?" she asked after him, unperturbed.
He froze.
That voice.
'I forgive you.'
'Eat with us!'
(It sent him back.
It sent him forward.
He vanished in that world.
Onto the next.
Alone.)
iii. New Tokyo, 3094
Kisame's head clouded, and his steps slowed in the middle of the purple district.
He swallowed his mouthful of his protein bar.
He blinked until the lights were once more vibrant.
Shaking his head, Kisame resumed his walk. The streets of New Tokyo parted for him, crowded now that the scorching sun had set. Only those with expensive sunsuits could venture outside during the day, so the city had grown into a nocturne beast; tall buildings lit until sunrise, solar panels masked in the ambient light, and street vendors yelling over food and entertainment.
Time slugged, slipped, and Kisame slowed again before he could reach the next corner.
He blinked, deaf and blind momentarily.
Again.
He let go of the protein bar he had bought. He hissed, turning around, his legs heavy. He was on another street, the red lights of the red district, pulsing.
Disoriented, Kisame looked behind him. The crowd was laughing, androids, robots and humans, all indistinct faces bleeding into one another.
There was no one chasing him.
It happened more and more frequently now. Kisame would stop moving somewhere and wake up into another room, in another district, in the middle another task.
Kisame shook his head and walked on.
Neon signs of bars and nightclubs glided over his pale blue skin, flashes of red. Androids sat on the porch of pleasure houses or up their balcony, waving at costumers who couldn't afford the high-end of the street.
An android purred and walked toward him to invite him to take a drink, but he waved his arm where his identity microchip was. After scanning the microchip, the android bowed and retreated immediately before walking toward another potential customer. Convicted criminals couldn't enter most bars and public spaces.
Kisame left the red night district through an alley, his head clearing.
Splashes pattered behind, careful steps, but no smell. Kisame grinned, briefly, exposing his face to the light rain. The kid was so annoying. He reached the next street where Pein's hideout was.
"Come out, boy. I know it's you," he said lightly and looked over his shoulder.
The water throbbed, faint and loud, as if someone was running, then walking. He steeled himself, touching the pommel of his lightkatana. Water poured down his face, his gills quivering.
He frowned, his hair now splattered to his skull. His bionic eye darted from place to place, looking for Suigetsu. The crowd passed him by, never truly noticing him, Suigetsu nowhere to be seen.
There was no one chasing him.
Kisame held his head briefly, before curling his hand away from his face. He wondered if his body modifications were short-circuiting his brain. He should ask Itachi to take a look.
He crossed the street, looking over his shoulder one more time, and disappeared in Pein's hideout.
Pein's underground bar was stiff, too hot, red and purple blending, bodies firmly pressed together. Kisame played with his drink watching the dance floor with disgust. Suigetsu had cleared his first solo assignment, and now he was celebrating with a red-haired that spoke too loudly.
"They grow up so fast, don't they," Konan asked with a smirk and clicked her drink against his before downing her glass.
He didn't drink with her.
Without another word, she spun on her heels and easily fell in step with Pein.
Kisame wanted to grin.
He wanted to kill.
He felt dull, out of shape, out of place, the music pounding against him. His gaze darted across the room, pausing at exposed flesh, skipping over metallic limbs, androids whizzing through the crowd with drinks balanced on a tray.
"Can I sit?" A voice asked from behind, startling him.
Kisame bared his teeth. Usually his face modifications were enough to deter people. Usually people left him alone. He made his gills expanded, but the woman still didn't move.
"No," he said with a dark smile, when he figured she wouldn't leave without an answer.
She sat regardless of his answer, gathering her skirts and purse careful on the stool. Kisame grinned, sharper, turning his head toward her. She was a petite woman, dressed in a flowing green kimono modelled after one of the Old World. From what he could see, she had no body modification.
Kisame almost growled. A prostitute.
"I don't have money. Leave."
She cocked her head to the side, looking straight ahead at the shelves behind the bar. She taped her fingers on the counter, her mouth parting, as if she was counting the bottles put on display. The barmaid android turned toward her and greeted her in a metallic voice.
"I'll have shochu, and he'll have a refill," she said loudly, leaning over the counter, her wrist thrust forward, so the android could scan her microchip.
"Thank you," the android whirred. "A tab has been started under your name."
Kisame's face darkened, and he felt the tip of his canines. Maybe she would do.
"I didn't ask for a refill," he said and smiled, sharp.
"You said, you had no money," she replied smoothly, and she finally turned her eyes to meet his.
Kisame tensed.
Both her eyes had a dull green light beneath the dark of her pupils. Those were high-end bionic eyes, usually reserved for cops and procurers as they could see across patterns, through walls and body modifications. There were rumours they could also read identity microchips from a distance.
Under his robes, Kisame touched the pommel of his lightkatana.
"That's not what I meant," he replied, and his smile was full of venom and teeth. He was hungry.
(And he always ate alone.)
"Oh, I know," she said, and Kisame recognized the steel beneath her smile.
He cocked his head to the side, trying to catch the eye of Konan or Pein, but they were talking with a hooded man with the lustrous skin of a snake.
"Cops don't survive long here," Kisame said slowly, meeting her stare again.
"I'm not a cop," she winked.
"Your eyes..." he let the sentence dangle, his finger resting against the button to light his katana.
"I'm just a very curious woman," she said with a smile, nodding to herself. She gestured, full of quick hands and elongated fingers as she spoke: "I like puzzles, and these help me see patterns better. Hidden codes. Little mysteries."
Kisame licked his lips, wondering if he should flag Kakuzu now. Her eyes alone were worth her a fortune.
She smiled, undeterred, and offered her wrist to him.
"Here, read my identity chip."
She smiled vaguely, and he wondered if this was all a game to her. Her shoulders were relaxed, her chest open, and her eyes, all seeing, blinking, green, in the spinning darkness of them.
He decided he would cut off her head. That was what he usually did to cops.
(That was he did to ninja when ordered to, but he didn't know as much. In New Tokyo, he was another kind of monster. He always was.)
Watching her hungrily, Kisame pressed a finger to her wrist, but her face didn't falter. She didn't flee. She matched his stare, bearing his cold touch.
She hadn't bluffed.
Her informations appeared in yellow at the top corner of his vision, listing numerous high rankings in numerous tournaments in go, chess, video games, and cryptography. Her name was Miru, no last name. 19 years old.
"It could be fake," Kisame said, dry-mouthed, and he couldn't help the savage grin.
He hoped she was a fraud. He was hungry, and she was so near, her heartbeat steady under his finger.
"Can I have my arm back?" Miru asked, and her eyes sparkled.
This was definitely a game to her.
"For now, you live," Kisame cooed and released her.
"I forgive you," Miru laughed, and he stilled, his glass resting against his lips. The clear liquid swayed, gently clicking the ice.
'I forgive you.'
His head spun, worlds folding neatly into one another, the music grew deafening, before growing extinguished and all he saw, was her standing over her stood, in blinding light, elbows against the counter, glass raised.
Neck exposed.
Dead.
But she turned her head toward him, her eyes reluctantly leaving the collection of bottles exposed behind the bar. There was a puzzle there, only she could see. She smiled. Very much alive.
And the bar was there again, with Pein and Konan, and his lightkatana searing his palm.
'I forgive you.'
"What did you say?" Kisame asked, low, dangerously.
"I forgive you..." Miru repeated without missing a beat, the lights in her eyes hypnotizing, "for being so rude. Nothing can hide from my eyes."
She threw back her head and drank, unperturbed. She flagged the android again.
"I see a lonely man," she said simply as the android refilled her glass.
"I'm not a puzzle," Kisame hissed, and for the first time in a very long time, he wasn't smiling or grinning.
He was petrified.
He was entranced.
He was a fish out of the water.
He was a shark out of food, killer instincts honed, but empty waters.
"I said," Miru repeated louder, and she gave away nothing but exposed teeth and warmth. "I see a lonely man, not a puzzle."
She pushed her filled glass against his, clicking them together like Konan had done.
(She did love her patterns.)
"Cheers!"
Miru drank again.
She squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head at the taste of alcohol.
Then, Miru raised her arm to flag the android again, and Kisame gripped her wrist. She turned her head toward him, but she looked at him, gills and tinted skin and erased nose, like she looked at everything, directly, curiously, never afraid.
Kisame forced her arm down, the air knocked out of his lungs.
It had been a very long time, since someone looked at him like he wasn't a monster.
And he thought she was foolish.
(And so was he.)
And he thought he would surely kill her someday. Out of boredom, out of love, out of hatred. He had done it all before.
(He had never been full of love or hatred, never consumed by anything, but duty. Always out, out, out. Out of humanity.)
'I forgive you,' it rippled like an echo, across worlds, filling him.
Without glancing away from her, he told the android to refill her glass.
"I thought you didn't have money," she said, playful.
"I've enough for a drink, but not enough for a lady of the night."
She laughed, her long hair sprawling around her.
"You speak like an aristocrat from the Old World," she told him when her laughter subsided, out of breath, and moments later she was laughing again.
Kisame drank, watching her over his drink. He meant to erase her. He meant to eat, be eaten and swallowed and regurgitated into another world, another dimension, where he was still, always, a monster.
But she didn't stumble.
She didn't slip away.
She leaned in, holding up her hand outstretched, like people used to salute each other in the Old World.
A new game, a clean slate.
An old pattern.
('I forgive you.'
But why, why, why forgive a monster?
He had wanted to know in the very first world they shared.
After he killed her.
After he lost his way.)
"I'm Miru," she said unnecessary with a knowing smile, and he wondered if the rumours were true. If she already knew his name with her eyes.
"Kisame," he replied after a moment hesitation, and he gripped her hand.
Something shivered inside of him.
He didn't slip away.
And for the first time he almost felt human.
(And for the last time, it was because of her.)