Mistress Of Tigers

Sharing Stories and an Old Informant

I pouted as we jumped through the trees. “Really, sensei?” Mashiro sighed.

“He stole my meat. It is like a rare treat for me that I haven’t eaten in years.”

“It’s just meat,” Juro growled, arms crossed as he sat on Kyo.

“Take back your blasphemous words!” I accused.

“You are really bipolar, aren’t you?” Kei asked. I proceeded to trip him and watched him fall face first into a tree limb. “Sensei!” he cried, glaring at me, Mashiro and Tsubaki joining in though, instead of angry, Tsubaki sounded like she was scolding a child and Mashiro sounded exasperated.

“Sorry, my foot did it automatically,” I said, smiling sheepishly.

“Sad thing is how much we believe that. I’m surprised Kakashi-san isn’t in the hospital.”

“Well, he only teases me when it comes to-“

“Children present,” Mashiro interrupted, rolling his eyes.

“So, eventually you are all going to do it,” I said, shrugging. “Do you want me to heal your face?”

“No,” growled Kei, rubbing his red cheek gently.

“Well, Tsubaki could kiss the wounds and make them better, but it will take a lot of kisses to fix his face,” Mashiro said, smirking. I snorted in my efforts to hold back my laughter. Kei lunged at Mashiro, but I held him back by the collar of his shirt and jacket. He swung in my grip, trying to attack Mashiro.

“Kei, I will slam your face into more tree bark if you do not quit,” I said.

He froze immediately and I smiled. I set him down on his feet and he huffed. “Weirdoes.”

“Juro, do not judge the personalities of others,” Eriko scolded Juro.

“It’s okay, we are used to it and I am sure sensei is as well,” Tsubaki sighed.

“Right you are, my little flower, but sometimes my quirks got me put into matches that ended with me in a lot of pain, since I had a few things to train with but don’t like. Like the curse mark, I never went through the second phase, so it is still quite painful, especially if near the person who gave me such a gift,” I said, shrugging.

“Something with the name curse automatically means it isn’t a gift,” Juro stated.

“Not necessarily. A curse, if used correctly, can be molded into a gift. Kekkei Genkai are curses, for they are burdens most of the time and leave the user’s life in danger for reasons of others wanting the power or the Kekkei Genkai is dangerous to one’s health, like the Sharingan can be if you get the Mangekyo,” I said, not looking at anyone.

I sighed. “Right, formation and go,” I said, jerking my chin up. Everyone fell into step with me at the back. I listened and sniffed at the air. I soon heard a whistle. “Kyo, protect Juro,” I commanded. “Tsubaki, you protect Eriko. Boys, you are with me,” I said, smirking as I easily caught the kunai knife before it stabbed me. “So, who are you?” I called out loudly.

“Just a mere traveler,” I heard.

“Yeah, right. Like I believe you are a traveler of any kind. You are a mercenary, who are you after?” I asked, glaring at the man before me. He had dark black hair with dark eyes and a tattoo that traced over his left eye and ended at his jaw. He wore a thick black scarf, a collared, tight, and sleeveless shirt. He wore gloves that reached past mid-upper arm. His left arm sported a red dragon. He had on regular pants with a brown leather belt that held his sword. His boots matched the rest of his clothes.