Sword of God -- A Naruto Fanfiction

| 36 | Dance of the Weasel

The duo had arrived in Tanzaku Gai, a major town of production near the heart of Fire Country yet far away from the rib cage, the security force of the country and second place in economics and business to the Capital.

Almost instantly the first course of action detailing the illustrious plan to capture — cough, retrieve — Tsunade Senju had been for the mission leader to dash off to "get intel", accompanied by a perverted giggle.

Thus, leaving Naruto all alone in the hotel room and in essence imparting him with the fact that the Toad Sage is easily swayed by the charms of the opposite gender.

A childish adult... he reflected. How awfully pathetic. Such a nuisance shouldn't be caring for others...

The old man had told him to stay within the suite, a reason concerning the local festival happening at the moment.

Naruto had never liked festivals. Or celebrations. Or anything where a large group assembled and he was barred from killing them like the "bloodthirsty demon" he was.

That is the sole reason why the duo had booked — well, Naruto on the behalf of them — two luxurious rooms. Who would willingly spend sleepless nights with a perverted old man in the same room?

Nobody, which is also why Naruto had deigned to continue his studies on the nature of chakra, a subject most intriguing and depthly.

A sudden knocking reached his ears, the sound captivated his attention.

His ears perked up, his concentration shifting to the rising issue as the persistent knocker raps on the door, the sound leading him to believe that the knuckle was being used.

Jiraiya said he wouldn't be home till eleven, he mused. Now it's ten.

He walks to the door, taking precautions to ensure that no sounds were being made.

And judging by character, he wouldn't leave the bar early either. He would rather leave late.

Weighing the scales in his head, one side tips under, leaving a course of action to be determined.

What if it's an intruder? An assailant? I wouldn't put it past some shinobi to attempt an assassination, especially since Hokage-Jiji's attention is focused on the village.

Cautiously, he calls forth his chakra as he readies it to turn the possible intruder's mind into his psychotic playground, dense black energy swirling around his right hand like a mist.

His left hand inched closer and closer towards the incessant knocking before it jolted forward, grasping ahold of the doorknob to make it swing open, hitting the wall with an audible crash.

He winced. Lucky the other people are enjoying themselves outside and not in to hear the ruckus.

If he had expected rogue ninja who had hustled to Fire Country to claim the petty bounty on his head, then he had been mistaken.

Lo and behold, Itachi Uchiha. A tall, lean man with a pale complexion, long jet-black hair pulled back in a low ponytail and bangs framing his face.

He wore a black cloak adorned with red fluffy cloaks, and a slashed forehead protector.

Tall and imposing, he loomed over Naruto by roughly a head, his Sharingan activated, a luminescent, blood-red iris with a single ring and three tomoe (commas) lazily orbiting the unchanged pupil.

Must not stare into his eyes... Naruto reminded himself, despair formed as a chasm in his heart, a bottomless pit as he realised it is wasn't a social call.