Inner Explosions [A Naruto Fanfic]

Chapter Fifteen, yeah!

Sasuke was fast. I’ll give him that. It’s been a little over two weeks since the food poisoning episode that Itachi and I had. I have to admit, when I woke the next day, I was sure I had dreamed of Sasuke talking to me. I was in my bed, as comfortable as could be, feeling dreamy. Then I saw the silly duck sitting out in the hall, a stressed frown on his features as I’d entered the room, searching for a kitchen to raid.

In the two weeks that had passed, I’d been training really hard to get back into the rhythm of killing things. I was past my former level of skill, and Sasuke and I were currently racing each other to see who was faster. Sasuke was using chakra. I wasn’t. The line where Itachi would declare the winner approached and I pushed chakra into my legs and flew like a bat outta hell.

I was almost a full three seconds ahead of Sasuke, and damn did I feel proud. Sasuke scowled playfully at me as I went back to my training, which included occasionally bombarding their ears with a foul string of curses that had to do with me hitting something by accident, usually my head. I shook my head and went back to target practice, throwing from every angle imaginable accurately until my arms ached and my head spun.

It took me the better part of the night to get to that point, which was ultimately my goal when it came to not using chakra for endurance. As the moon began to set, it was four in the morning and I was tired enough to go inside. I was starting to wonder if I’d placed too much faith in Deidara. Don’t get me wrong, I love the guy, but it had been six weeks, a month and two weeks, after his suicide-type mission and I hadn’t seen hide nor hair of him. I was getting really worried. I walked inside the hideout and grabbed my half-eaten pocky box and some instant ramen.

Three minutes later, the pocky was gone and I was slurping up my noodles happily. It would be another four hours until anyone else got up, unless someone couldn’t sleep, so I basically had the place to myself. I turned the TV on, set the volume to something low but clear, and watched the screen mindlessly for two hours. In that time, I’d finished my noodles and had made several more boxes, which were now steaming around me with that wonderful instant ramen scent. Please note my sarcasm. It’s not that great a smell. It’s okay.

The “Big Day” was coming up. Soon. Like, two days or so, soon. That’s the biggest reason for my strict training regimen. I scarfed down the too-hot noodles and lay on my back. What should I do for two hours? That question was easily answered as a walking fish-stick came into the room. “Fishy!” I cried, glomping it with my arms and legs. The fish-stick froze, then sweatdropped.

“Erm... could you get off, Nayami?” Kisame asked, his face frowning with something like annoyance. I pulled my best pair of puppy dog eyes and pouted. Kisame looked conflicted before he sighed with defeat and allowed me to cling to him as he raided the fridge. He found some really old sushi and a box of seaweed.

“Um, Kisame? Don’t eat the sushi. It’s really old. I’ll make you some fresh stuff, alright?” I said. Kisame gave me a strange look. “I won’t kill you or anything, you can watch.” He shrugged, causing me to fall onto the floor. I gave Kisame a quick death glare and set to work finding sushi ingredients.

An hour later, Kisame had eaten all the sushi I’d made and was now glaring at the TV as it showed people cutting up some sharks. I wanted to laugh at his expression, but I knew if I’d do that, Kisame would leave and my entertainment would be gone. Now I know you’ve got to be asking, how is it possible for Nayami to make sushi when she practically killed all of Akatsuki trying to make toast? Well, the answer is, the toaster has it out for me. I’m able to make food. Decent food. It ain’t great, but it’s edible.

Dawn was coming soon. I felt it deep in my bones and sighed softly as I headed to bed. A low murmur of pain pulsed through my eyes but I ignored it. I slipped into bed and fell asleep, wishing bitterly that my revenge would come sooner.