Chapter Text
He watched her work from the other side of the courtyard garden, her hips swaying naturally under her run-of-the-mill waitress uniform. There were some women who didn't need to emphasise what they had to appear sexy; they just were. Haruno Sakura was one of those. And the funny thing was, he didn't think she knew quite the effect she had on men. She probably had some idea, sure, like most pretty girls. But she hadn't that easy, commanding confidence that spoke of a woman who knew her true worth. Yet. When she found it she'd be capable of making men fall to their knees with just a look.
Now, the real question was, what was she doing all the way out here? The Minakami Onsen was quite a way from Konoha - it was a quiet, traditional and professionally run establishment. One that didn't usually cater to nins, and when it did, strictly only ones serving as bodyguards for important political guests. It was partly why he'd first picked the place all those years ago for an R&R stint. He'd had to suppress his titanic chakra and pose as a wealthy merchant from a small country to get in, but the deception had been worth it, and he'd been coming here every year since. With a lifestyle as harsh and volatile as a missing-nin's, it was the only indulgence he allowed himself. Having any kind of predictability was a dangerous thing, and Kisame had no doubt that one day this particular habit of his would end up biting him on the ass. But he'd be damned if he wouldn't enjoy it while he could.
He narrowed his pale eyes at the oblivious kunoichi, was she here for him then? No, it was doubtful. He'd made sure he'd booked last-minute and under the alias he always used. More likely she was here on a different mission. One that required her general identity to be concealed - going by the coloured contacts and hair extensions - but not her actual physical person. He was confident of his own reputation and abilities that he knew she sure as hell wouldn't leave herself in the open if he was the intended target. Unless she was bait. But then, why bother with the disguise? He felt out - very cautiously - for any signs of chakra in the vicinity. Nothing. Not that that meant anything of course; high-level enemy nin could mask their chakra just as well as he. It was an old habit though, and one he was loath to break - you never knew when you’d catch the enemy with their pants down. It just didn’t add up enough to link Sakura’s presence with his arrival. A mere coincidence, then?
Well, he decided, if Konoha wanted to pick a fight he was always more than willing to shed some blood - even on R&R. If it turned out that they were after him, he would wait for them to make the first move. If not, then he'd merely observe and collect information. He wasn’t about to spoil his leave if he didn’t have to.
He shifted his weight to lean against one of the vertical beams that supported the veranda roof and watched the restaurant with arms folded. He'd been using the covered walkway as a shortcut to the baths after checking in, and his eyes had initially slid over the demure little brunette waitress, mildly curious as he hadn't seen her working here before, but as dismissive as he was of most civilians. It wasn't until a bell started ringing at the back of his mind that he paused to take a closer look. The disguise she'd adopted wasn't elaborate, but it was enough that those who didn't know her wouldn't connect the two if they ever saw the real Sakura. But he knew her. The few times they'd crossed paths had burned the feisty, pink-haired kunoichi irreversibly into his brain.
He watched her for a few minutes as she weaved between elegantly-set tables before stopping at a cutlery booth, barely twenty metres and some garden shrubbery between them. She looked older since he'd seen her last, and more confident in herself. She'd filled out nicely too. Very nicely. He grunted in amusement at himself and turned to leave, but just as he did so a young male guest entered the restaurant from the bar. The drink he carried sloshed over the edge of the glass and splattered on the hardwood floor. He walked with the deliberate over exaggerated carefulness that only exceptionally drunk people would think could possibly pass as normal, scanning the room with bleary eyes. He spotted Sakura, a calculating leer appearing on his face as he made a beeline straight for her. Sakura looked up from her position at the cutlery booth and saw him approaching, but tables hemmed her in on three sides, her only line of exit the way the man was coming. Kisame saw her pause, her hands stilling on the cloth she was using to polish the cutlery.
The man reached her booth and leaned his drink arm cockily on the edge opposite Sakura, running his free hand down the creased front of his shirt as he eyed her up and down, then slurred, "Princess, give me two minutes and you'll be screaming my name."
Now, Kisame knew that he himself wasn't exactly the most tactful person in the universe, but even his eyebrows rose slightly at the man's blunt crudeness. He saw the flash of disgust pass across Sakura's face before she responded tartly, "Honey, I could give you two years and I'd still be mute and bored." Despite her calm outer appearance, her whitened knuckles betrayed her true feelings. The man fortunately had no idea that this was a woman who could shatter every bone in his body and turn him into mush with her bare hands, and that she was no doubt reigning in this very desire. Kisame almost felt sorry for him. Almost. The drunkard seemed lost for words now; no doubt his drink-addled brain had assured him that his pick up line was a winner, and the apparent failure had baffled him. He stepped back from the booth, swaying uncertainly with a confused look on his face.
Sakura was still staring him down, jaw set, when a barman came barrelling through the double swing doors to the restaurant and hurried over. After apologising profusely to her for the behaviour of the customer and relieving the drunkard of his glass, he escorted the protesting man firmly by one arm from the restaurant.
Sakura glared murderously after them, then resumed her cutlery-polishing, albeit a little bit more savagely than before. Kisame watched her work for a couple of minutes more before deciding to go have that dip. The customer's remark to Sakura had put images in his brain he really shouldn't dwell on, but he was surprised to find that they were quite difficult to shake. The more distance he put between him and the kunoichi the better.