Chapter 23: A Thirst Quenched
Only the operatives who had been in the secret meeting knew about Omoi's arrival; the agents on external patrol duty were still unaware. They wouldn't think twice about seeing Takumi enter. That was D's order, meant to maintain a natural facade. But this protocol had backfired, resulting in her brother—the one sent to infiltrate the Academy in secret—being spotted by the very person they were trying to manipulate.
"...Fine. Follow me," Samui said, her voice tight. She placed the cleaning rag on the counter and turned toward the stairs.
Takumi followed without a word.
"Hey, Sis?" Omoi, who was roughly Takumi's age, scratched his head in confusion. Why was she going upstairs with that customer? He hadn't gotten a clear look at the boy's face and just assumed he was a patron. Shrugging, he picked up the rag Samui had discarded and began diligently wiping down the tables, standing on his toes to reach the higher surfaces.
Upstairs, Samui's hand trembled slightly as she pushed open the door to the small staff lounge. She quickly masked the motion, stepping aside to let Takumi enter first. The room was spartan: a low table, a few folded futons in the corner by the window. The afternoon light streamed in, casting a hazy, warm glow that did nothing to melt the ice forming in Samui's chest.
Takumi sat casually on a cushion, his slender fingers tapping a slow rhythm on the wooden table. He looked at Samui, his gaze appraising. "Since we're here, let's not waste time. Show me a kenjutsu scroll. Something practical and straightforward. If it's not to my liking, I suppose I'll just have to come back again."
He was a lion, opening his mouth wide without a hint of shame. If he could extract benefits, he would take everything he could get. He knew powerful Lightning Release techniques existed, but they demanded chakra reserves he couldn't yet explain and would draw immediate suspicion. Swordsmanship, however, was different. Basic sword forms were inconspicuous, their origins difficult to trace.
"Fine," Samui nodded, her voice clipped. The ninjutsu given to Takumi would be funded from the village's operational budget. She asked him to wait and soon returned with another scroll. Kumogakure's expertise wasn't limited to Lightning Release; their shinobi were also renowned swordsmen. The line between a sword and a blade was blurry in the shinobi world. Killer Bee's mastery of the eight-sword style had nearly overwhelmed Sasuke, forcing him to rely on his Mangekyo.
Takumi took the scroll, but his eyes didn't linger on it. Instead, they drifted to Samui's face, then trailed down, pausing at the slender column of her neck and the generous curve of her bust.
Samui felt the weight of that gaze. Her face remained an impassive mask, but the chill in her eyes deepened. She was intimately familiar with the look in Takumi's eyes. As a spy, she had encountered all types. It was a look of... possession.
Her short blonde hair shifted as she took a slow breath, her heart thudding heavily against her ribs.
Takumi's eyes lingered on her face for a moment before drifting lower, to the hem of her skirt. He studied her long, shapely legs, and a spark of genuine, calculating interest flickered in his otherwise calm demeanor.
What expression would she make, he wondered, this woman of forced composure, if she were pushed to do something she truly despised?
"Miss Samui," Takumi began, a slow smile gracing his lips, his tone deceptively light. "Your brother is so young. He has such a bright future ahead of him. It would be a true tragedy if something... unforeseen... were to happen to him, wouldn't it?"
Samui's expression didn't change, but a flicker of raw alarm in her eyes betrayed her. She was a woman of immense self-control, but her brother was her one, undeniable vulnerability.
"Don't be nervous," Takumi continued smoothly. "I simply wish for Miss Samui's sincerity to be... absolute."
The air in the room grew thick and heavy. Sunlight continued to pool on the low table, powerless against the tension that had congealed around them.
Samui hesitated, her gaze finally lowering. Her fingers, almost of their own volition, clenched the fabric of her skirt. If she refused him, he could go straight to D. At worst, he could report this entire safehouse to Konoha's authorities. None of them would escape the ensuing purge.
What choice did she have?
Even if she told D, he would likely see it as her own failure for being so careless. She had created this leverage for Takumi herself.
Where his gaze rested, Samui felt as if she were being pricked by a dozen fine needles. Her fingers tightened, then slowly, reluctantly, loosened their grip. She said nothing, her face a frozen lake of feigned indifference, but a faint, helpless blush began to creep up her neck.
Takumi's smile widened. In his mind, Samui's work for Kumo made her complicit. This was merely... collecting a debt.
The pupil of his left eye shifted from onyx to a vibrant crimson, a single black tomoe spinning into existence.
One-Tomoe Sharingan.
And his right eye, which had remained dormant until now, also began to bleed into scarlet, a strange chakra stirring deep within his brain, flowing towards the dormant ocular nerves. He could feel it, a thin membrane away from fully awakening.
Kumogakure wanted his body. The Uchiha wanted his loyalty. He was caught between these pressures, with the drumbeats of a world war growing louder in the background. And the simmering anger from Uchiha Hazuki's condescending treatment today found a small, vicious outlet.
A forced fruit might not be sweet, but it could certainly quench a thirst.
Even during the most arduous training, one had to find moments of... diversion.
"Yes," Takumi said, his voice pulling her from her thoughts. He straightened up, a boy still shorter than her, yet he commanded the room. "I am... satisfied with your sincerity. It makes me more certain than ever of my desire to return to Kumo. However..."
Just as she thought he would press further, he stopped her. The absurdity of the situation was not lost on him.
"That will be all for today. I do hope you'll be more... circumspect with your words in the future, Miss Samui." He tucked the scroll casually into his jacket and stood to leave. "Otherwise, if someone were to get the wrong idea, you might find yourself being taken advantage of for a very long time."
It wasn't prudent to push Samui too far right now. He would need to extract more from her later. This was enough for the moment. She appeared to be only fifteen or so, while D was a hardened operative in his thirties. When picking a target, one always started with the softer option.
The door closed behind him with a soft, definitive click.
Samui stood frozen for a long moment, her shoulders trembling slightly. Finally, her hands fell away from her skirt, and she leaned back weakly against a cabinet, a flush of humiliation now fully coloring her otherwise elegant cheeks.
"At least... he didn't actually see anything," she whispered to the empty room, letting out a deep, shuddering sigh filled with self-recrimination. If only she could go back to that moment before she had spoken carelessly in front of D. Then Takumi's venom might be directed at someone else.
A few minutes later, brisk footsteps sounded outside. "Sis?" Omoi's voice called out.
Samui's head snapped up. She smoothed her expression, erasing all traces of her turmoil, and turned to face her brother's innocent, questioning face.
Omoi looked confused. The guest had left, and his sister had stayed up here alone. Was she tired?
Samui knelt, her heart aching as she stroked his soft, golden hair. She looked into his guileless eyes, her own gaze filled with a bittersweet mix of tenderness and resolve.
If this was what it took to protect her brother's future, it was a price she was willing to pay. It was all for her only family.
(End of Chapter)
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