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tampered2006-10-08 02:33 pm
sciencedaughter.livejournal.com) wrote in tampered2006-10-08 02:33 pm
Log; Complete
When; Friday, October 6th, late afternoon
Rating; PG-13
Characters; Nemu {![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sciencedaughter} & Kimimaro {ossuarybouquet}
Summary; Under Orochimaru's orders, Kimimaro goes to kidnap Nemu for experimentation on a shinigami.
Log;
Nemu walked slowly up the stairs to her apartment, her footsteps soft and barely audible. She did most things in that manner. Slowly and softly. Without Mayuri-sama present, she had no one ordering her about, no one sending her off somewhere, no one telling her to fetch this, do this, handle this... she missed it. In this City she had no purpose, only wandering aimlessly, collecting data, and obeying the Captains. Yet at the same time she felt... strange. Free? Was that what it was? But she didn't know, because she had never been free. Would never be free, for she would always be Mayuri-sama's creation. His most perfect creation. His most disappointing experiment. And while she wanted his direction, she was afraid to admit that maybe she didn't want him. But such thoughts were not becoming of a creation, so she set them aside, instead reaching out for the door of her apartment. But she paused, hand hovering over the doorknob, something setting her nerves on end. She felt... something. She'd been on edge for the past week or so, almost as if she were being followed. But she saw no one, heard no one. And she could think of no reason anyone would wish her followed. But nonetheless, she froze, eyes darting around the seemingly empty hall of building five.
For a ninja of his caliber, detection never, ever came before he was well and ready to allow it; not even his ailment could take that skill away, and Kimimaro had been keeping an eye on this particular shinigami for well over a week. However, it was only recently that he'd gathered enough information on her background and possible powers to approach and actually follow--he'd no doubt that had held some risks, but at the present time what gambles he'd taken had come to fruition, as he'd known they would. Life and death hardly mattered anymore just at the moment, and he was embroiled in something much lesser.
Accordingly, he flashed out of the shadows in a blur of white and the grey-lined kimono he'd chosen specifically for this task, approaching the wary shinigami with enough speed to warrant a defense, but not enough to create openings for a counter-attack; his target did carry some danger on hand, those strange and unknown powers, and there was no way Kimimaro would allow carelessness to fail him this mission.
Her eyes, keen eyes crafted by a keen builder, caught the blur as it detached itself from its hiding place, coming at her with speeds she did not often see in humans. But if it was one thing this City had taught her it was that the humans of her world were nothing compared to the humans of others. Strange things, wondrous things, all that needed to be studied... but she was allowing her quick mind to run off from the situation. It was with unwavering focus that her lips formed the quiet and quick wording of a kidou, bringing her arms up in front of her to shield herself for the coming impact, for there was no course of action other than collision imminent. A bit of a blue shimmer materialized before her, a shield of sorts. Not a strong one, those required more preparation, more time, but enough, she calculated, to deflect this attack. Who was attacking, or what, was of yet unknown. But that mattered not until she had time to analyze, which was not now.
Kimimaro had expected something like the shield of energy that bloomed forth from the girl's hands to cover her upper torso, but he was hardly the sort of ninja (were there such sorts?) who plowed their way to the target like a particularly stubborn animal. Instead, scant moments before the bones that had bones that had already sprouted in bristling profusion from his arms and hands could make contact with the energy she held, he curved and slid his body in such a way that he avoided it entirely--except for his left hand, which intentionally dragged its weaponry through her defense, spraying dagger-like shards of bone everywhere. Kimimaro had already landed behind the girl, using her as a sort of shield against his own attack--but it was no time to be complacent, and so a split second later he'd run the bones in his right hand through her right shoulder, because incapacitation and not kill was key, here.
It was at the last second that Nemu realized her error. She had not expected such reaction time, such speed, from a mere human, used to, as she was, to the mortals of her own world. Even as the bones, (and she saw that was what they were), grazed the kidou shield she was tensing muscles to pivot, heels beginning to turn, knowing the attacker was behind her, but she only managed to position it so that the attack would not hit bone or the vital tendon that controlled her fingers. Part of her knowledge included being able to manipulate attacks to fit her situation, so that at least she could avoid the full extent of damage. She was glad that Mayuri-sama had built her to endure much pain, much damage, before her body shut down. It gave her the element of surprise in that her enemies usually did not expect such high-pain tolerance from one with such a frail appearance as she. She did not wince when the bone material pierced the muscle she had maneuvered into position, cleanly throwing herself forward and off of the impalation. She twisted to the side as she retreated down the hall, firing off a blazing red kidou blast from her left hand, the power shining briefly in her palm before letting fly in the attacker's direction. It was now that she finally got a good look. Young, he seemed, yet with the hair color of an elder, but eyes that held no emotions. The bones that sprouted from his body seemed to be natural extensions of himself, his weapons. She would be on the watch for those. And yet she did not speak, did not question his arrival, nor his motives. Such conversations were useless here.
Had he not fought Kurogane and experienced the same subtle deflection, albeit in a different manner, Kimimaro might have been tempted--even if just for a moment--to dismiss what he could feel was a near-miss as blind luck. However, these creatures who called themselves gods of death were not to be trifled with, this much he'd learned. When Nemu twisted away and flung back her attack, he'd already regrown the shattered bones and brought them up before his face like a shield.
Belying that intention, he took to the air again; and this time, he took the more unconventional route--the bones made a strange screeching noise as they flew apart against the energy in the traveling blast as he forced them against it, giving him just enough momentum to flip over and back to face his opponent--the bones in his knees, pristine, flew like rain.
She saw the bones ejecting themselves from his skin, projectiles coming at her fast. She threw herself back, swatting the last of the edge of the cloud of bones away with the back of her hand, only allowing one to slice her, a small cut across her forearm behind the white gauntlet that covered the backs of her hands. She skid to a halt and abruptly changed directions, zigzagging left and right back down the way she'd come. But she was forced to a halt again as the young human's speed brought him before her once more. A flicker of emotion, the slightest slip of surprise, before her face once again regained its calm exterior. She almost reached to her side, feeling for the zanpakutou all ranked shinigami carried. But... she did not carry hers. Mayuri-sama did not allow it. "That was only for your rank, Nemu. You will not carry it. I forbid it. And it wasn't until now that she realized it might be because she was better able to defend herself with the weapon. But she couldn't dwell on that, and she reached forward, clutching with her fingers on both hands to the fabric at the boy's shoulders.
"Way of Destruction 64." She whispered softly. "Shakkahou." The reiatsu gathered in her palms, preparing to shoot out a strong blast directly into the skin.
Kimimaro felt the sheer heat of the energy radiating from her palms against his shoulders, accepted the inevitability of the attack calmly--and the opportunity: next moment he exposed his ribcage, unheeding of the damage it did to his clothing, and intent on what it could deal to his opponent. At such close proximity, the shinigami was impaled at several points. Not sufficient, however, and he closed his eyes and shifted--his collarbones shot out and through her hands, still clamped on him.
Nemu felt the bones beneath her hands shifting, felt them move as if by the young boy's will, but she did not remove her hands, only let a flinch cross her features as the bones of the rib cage, sharp and eerie white, cut through the black fabric and pale skin on her forearms, cleanly piercing through. The tips of the bones now stained with her blood, false as that blood may have been, it was red nonetheless. She finished the incantation just as her hands fell prey to the bones as well, locking them in place as she fired off the kidou that burned fast and strong, a searing beam of heat and reiatsu that could sheer through walls, and human bone. Though she was beginning to see that the bones of this young man were anything but ordinary. Most bones would not be shaped as such, be sharp, be weapons. And they seemed heavier, denser, than the usual that belonged to Mayuri-sama's experimental subjects. But she trusted in the kidou nonetheless, for the demon arts were the only weapons Mayuri-sama allowed her, and up to this point, they had served her well.
The force of the blast, while not sufficient to break through the layer of bone under his skin, nevertheless seared his nerves and skin, splintered his defense enough that the pain wracked his body like fire. Kimimaro, normally unmovable in battle, recoiled a little from the touch--caught himself and moved forward instead, driving his bones further into his opponent.
She felt the blast stop, felt it dissipate against the boy. And she couldn't help the surprise that crossed her face. What was he? She pulled back from his push forward, ripping her hands from the sharp bones, the twin holes in the center of her palms leaving blood on his clothing. And it was then that she saw what had stopped her kidou. A veritable wall of bone beneath his skin, dense and hard, though cracked and splintered from the reiatsu she had released. It took her a few twists of her arms to free herself fully from his bones, blood dripping slowly from each wound, two on her left arm and three on her right, small punctures that tore neatly through her muscles that screamed in protest of the moves she made. But she bore the pain stoically, stepping back several more paces before she stopped, suddenly ceased moving, arms hanging limp at her side.
"What is it you seek of me?" Nemu finally spoke, her voice even and controlled, though it was barely audible, very softly spoken.
It seemed that nothing short of total incapacitation would allow him to accomplish this mission--Kimimaro didn't retract his bones when the girl tore herself free, watching carefully as she retreated a few steps... and spoke. "My lord desires an audience with you," he replied as quietly. "He did not seem to think you would come willingly."
"I assume he doesn't wish to only speak cordially, if he sent you to bring me to him by force." Her voice was still barely above a whisper, though her shoulders were doing the slightest of heaves as she breathed, trying to slow her heart, her breath, trying to slow the flow of blood and the drip-drip-drip of the red falling to the ground. She tried not to tremble, though she wanted to, wanted to collapse against the wall and heal herself, repair the damaged spirit flesh that cried out in pain as real as that of humans. "Who do you serve?" She asked instead, getting the impression that if she moved an inch, made a bat of an eye, that the fighting would resume and the conversation, tremulous and small, would die.
Kimimaro's eyes caught every telltale sign, each twitch of weakness in the stiff motions of her hands and feet--he wasn't sure of the exact nature of the shinigami, nor the full extent of their powers; surely if they were gods of death, they had power over life itself? He should not be complacent--yet he remained still for the moment, consenting to listen. "My lord Orochimaru-sama is always cordial," he said simply, looking up at her with unwavering eyes. "If the messenger chooses his own methods, any discourtesy is to be attributed to myself alone."
As she listened to the young human's words she was twitching, seemingly as if from weakness, shuddering from fatigue and pain. But each move was her own, testing her motor functions, seeing what remained to her. Her fingers sporadically shivered, her forearms tensing and releasing, hands half-forming fists before falling limp once more. Her eyes were lidded, almost half-attentive, but she did hear each word, watched him for movement.
"I find it strange you would attack beforehand, when it would have been much easier to simply ask if I would agree to an audience first." She said slowly, her right shoulder spasming as she tried to force the nerves to listen to the signals she was sending them.
"This makes me come to the implication that Orochimaru plans something unsavory, that I may wish to not play part in." She knew this man, had been approached by him before. But she had turned down his offer to assist in his research under advice from a captain. She'd heard many tell her the man was evil, but she had been willing to see for herself. After all, she had heard the same whispered of Mayuri-sama, and he was not evil. He was a man of science, and she had originally been drawn to the ninja for the same reason. He had reminded her of her master, her creator. But now this sinister angle revealed itself and she waited for an answer, estimating in her mind how difficult it would be to continue to perform kidou with her right arm operating at only 23% capacity and her left at 67%.
"I fight for Orochimaru-sama; he told me to bring you to him, and I will," Kimimaro responded simply, aware that he was giving his opponent time to recover, but also using the respite to form new strategies based on what he had just learned of her techniques--extrapolating the future exchange, if you will. Also, he was reforming his bone shield, regrowing the bones he'd just used and lost--a natural but still arduous task considering the energy he'd just expended. It was frustrating--some time ago, he would have been able to fight for days without a rest. "Orochimaru-sama had already granted you an audience, which you declined. He thought you might wish to reconsider." Bones sliced cleanly through skin, looming around him and seemingly impenetrable.
"Perhaps if I knew what he wished to speak to me about?" Nemu offered, though she knew it was not good news, nor a kindly ear he offered. She could feel the intent radiating off the boy, could feel his determination, his willpower. It was the look of someone who had dedicated their whole being, their entirety, to one thing, whether that thing be master or ideal. And she recognized it within herself, that same emotion. Dedication. Loyalty. Her right arm gave another spasm, the black fabric of each arm sodden now with blood, though the wounds were in the beginnings of clot.
"He wished for you to aid in his search, did he not?" Kimimaro responded, toneless. His eyes never left Nemu's, although they flickered for a moment before he looked on, assessing her present physical condition--it didn't seem like he had lost too much advantage by way of the small exchange. And before the thought had closed, he had moved, darting in close to the wounded shinigami and letting fly four of the bones at his joints, large and blunt. If she didn't move, they would pin her to the wall; and he was already moving ahead, to the next step of the dance.
She had opened her mouth to reply, to inquire about whether he wanted to have her aid in researching, or her aid in being researched, when she caught his movement, springing back down the hallway once more, arms hanging limp behind her. But instead of going into a defensive position, she simply ran, long, slender legs carrying her fast. She managed to avoid the larger, blunt, bones, slamming into the door that led to the stairs, a flash of pain running up her shoulder, and rushing up them, pelting towards the roof of the building, where she would have more room to maneuver, more room to think, to move. Her blood left small splashes on the hard surfaces of the stairs as she drifted into a shyunpo, the quickest movements capable of shinigami, the flash steps that carried them great distances in shortened times.
It took a few moments, but the stairs were actually easier to negotiate than the narrow hallway; Kimimaro simply leapt from one landing to the next, a whirl of weightless color, feet barely touching the rails. By the time Nemu had managed to reach the last landing, he was nose to nose--bones flew, and riddled the door to the roof--he wasn't about to let her escape.
She screeched to a halt upon finding herself face to face with Kimimaro. She had a split second, and in that second she brought her legs to bear, abruptly dropping low and sweeping in a circular motion, using her left arm as tremulous support, aiming for the backs of his knees. If he dodged, fine, but if she hit she needed the moment it would provide for her to blast the door with a kidou she was already preparing in her battered right palm with an incantation bypass. “Blast Spell 33.” She spoke, “Soukatsui.”, directing her bloodied hand towards the bone-riddled door, the energy escaping in a wide blast of white heat.
He dodged the sweeping attack easily, seeing the beginnings of the motion before she'd even begun to lower her body, and even as she slid away onto the roof below his dodge, he was readying his weaponry--one toe touched the ground before he was swerving, leaping after her in the blink of an eye. His target would not escape if he had to chase her halfway across the city... Doubtful, since she was at least half-incapacitated, or perhaps merely stubborn. He aimed for several critical points at joints and muscle and let fly, bones blade-sharp and maximum density.
Nemu allowed a surge of something a bit like triumph to surge through her as the kidou tore the stalwart door from its hinges and gave her an escape path. She surged forward, leg muscles bunching and sprinting, racing towards the opening even as she knew he would surely be turning and coming after, attacking, never wavering. For she recognized a bit of herself... in this boy. In this human whose loyalty was evident with every blink and movement. And it disturbed her, this recognition. She had almost cleared the doorway when she felt the first impact on her already injured shoulder blade. With a cry, half stifled, she flinched, one foot tripping over the other and sending her into a half-coordinated series of rolls and flips across the concrete roof, feeling one, two, three, more impacts. Each sent her nerves screaming into her brain as she tried to halt her dragging sprawl across the apartment building. She finally managed, hand scrabbling for friction, the skin tearing, ripping. But she halted, back to her attacker. And as her body screamed to move, to go, she shook, trying to will action from muscles and joints that hurt, that burned. She managed to bring herself to one knee, arms hanging limp, unable to rise farther, the kneecap on her left leg broken, perhaps shattered. She turned slowly, to face her attacker. This... she couldn't believe it was going this way. "... What is your name?" She coughed out, her voice no longer calm and even, but tremulous and weak. She didn't know why she asked such a thing, but... it seemed important, somehow.
Kimimaro had followed the shinigami's awkward and uncontrolled tumble across the rooftop with long, flowing strides, and stood almost before her when she spoke--he halted his steps and looked down on her, eyes serene and distant. But he consented to answer: "Kimimaro."
Moments later, Nemu's arms and feet were expertly tied with a few lengths of carefully prepared rope, and Kimimaro had thrown her over his shoulder and left the rooftop--there were no traces of struggle remaining save for the residue bones, blood, and the shattered door.
Rating; PG-13
Characters; Nemu {
sciencedaughter} & Kimimaro {ossuarybouquet}Summary; Under Orochimaru's orders, Kimimaro goes to kidnap Nemu for experimentation on a shinigami.
Log;
Nemu walked slowly up the stairs to her apartment, her footsteps soft and barely audible. She did most things in that manner. Slowly and softly. Without Mayuri-sama present, she had no one ordering her about, no one sending her off somewhere, no one telling her to fetch this, do this, handle this... she missed it. In this City she had no purpose, only wandering aimlessly, collecting data, and obeying the Captains. Yet at the same time she felt... strange. Free? Was that what it was? But she didn't know, because she had never been free. Would never be free, for she would always be Mayuri-sama's creation. His most perfect creation. His most disappointing experiment. And while she wanted his direction, she was afraid to admit that maybe she didn't want him. But such thoughts were not becoming of a creation, so she set them aside, instead reaching out for the door of her apartment. But she paused, hand hovering over the doorknob, something setting her nerves on end. She felt... something. She'd been on edge for the past week or so, almost as if she were being followed. But she saw no one, heard no one. And she could think of no reason anyone would wish her followed. But nonetheless, she froze, eyes darting around the seemingly empty hall of building five.
For a ninja of his caliber, detection never, ever came before he was well and ready to allow it; not even his ailment could take that skill away, and Kimimaro had been keeping an eye on this particular shinigami for well over a week. However, it was only recently that he'd gathered enough information on her background and possible powers to approach and actually follow--he'd no doubt that had held some risks, but at the present time what gambles he'd taken had come to fruition, as he'd known they would. Life and death hardly mattered anymore just at the moment, and he was embroiled in something much lesser.
Accordingly, he flashed out of the shadows in a blur of white and the grey-lined kimono he'd chosen specifically for this task, approaching the wary shinigami with enough speed to warrant a defense, but not enough to create openings for a counter-attack; his target did carry some danger on hand, those strange and unknown powers, and there was no way Kimimaro would allow carelessness to fail him this mission.
Her eyes, keen eyes crafted by a keen builder, caught the blur as it detached itself from its hiding place, coming at her with speeds she did not often see in humans. But if it was one thing this City had taught her it was that the humans of her world were nothing compared to the humans of others. Strange things, wondrous things, all that needed to be studied... but she was allowing her quick mind to run off from the situation. It was with unwavering focus that her lips formed the quiet and quick wording of a kidou, bringing her arms up in front of her to shield herself for the coming impact, for there was no course of action other than collision imminent. A bit of a blue shimmer materialized before her, a shield of sorts. Not a strong one, those required more preparation, more time, but enough, she calculated, to deflect this attack. Who was attacking, or what, was of yet unknown. But that mattered not until she had time to analyze, which was not now.
Kimimaro had expected something like the shield of energy that bloomed forth from the girl's hands to cover her upper torso, but he was hardly the sort of ninja (were there such sorts?) who plowed their way to the target like a particularly stubborn animal. Instead, scant moments before the bones that had bones that had already sprouted in bristling profusion from his arms and hands could make contact with the energy she held, he curved and slid his body in such a way that he avoided it entirely--except for his left hand, which intentionally dragged its weaponry through her defense, spraying dagger-like shards of bone everywhere. Kimimaro had already landed behind the girl, using her as a sort of shield against his own attack--but it was no time to be complacent, and so a split second later he'd run the bones in his right hand through her right shoulder, because incapacitation and not kill was key, here.
It was at the last second that Nemu realized her error. She had not expected such reaction time, such speed, from a mere human, used to, as she was, to the mortals of her own world. Even as the bones, (and she saw that was what they were), grazed the kidou shield she was tensing muscles to pivot, heels beginning to turn, knowing the attacker was behind her, but she only managed to position it so that the attack would not hit bone or the vital tendon that controlled her fingers. Part of her knowledge included being able to manipulate attacks to fit her situation, so that at least she could avoid the full extent of damage. She was glad that Mayuri-sama had built her to endure much pain, much damage, before her body shut down. It gave her the element of surprise in that her enemies usually did not expect such high-pain tolerance from one with such a frail appearance as she. She did not wince when the bone material pierced the muscle she had maneuvered into position, cleanly throwing herself forward and off of the impalation. She twisted to the side as she retreated down the hall, firing off a blazing red kidou blast from her left hand, the power shining briefly in her palm before letting fly in the attacker's direction. It was now that she finally got a good look. Young, he seemed, yet with the hair color of an elder, but eyes that held no emotions. The bones that sprouted from his body seemed to be natural extensions of himself, his weapons. She would be on the watch for those. And yet she did not speak, did not question his arrival, nor his motives. Such conversations were useless here.
Had he not fought Kurogane and experienced the same subtle deflection, albeit in a different manner, Kimimaro might have been tempted--even if just for a moment--to dismiss what he could feel was a near-miss as blind luck. However, these creatures who called themselves gods of death were not to be trifled with, this much he'd learned. When Nemu twisted away and flung back her attack, he'd already regrown the shattered bones and brought them up before his face like a shield.
Belying that intention, he took to the air again; and this time, he took the more unconventional route--the bones made a strange screeching noise as they flew apart against the energy in the traveling blast as he forced them against it, giving him just enough momentum to flip over and back to face his opponent--the bones in his knees, pristine, flew like rain.
She saw the bones ejecting themselves from his skin, projectiles coming at her fast. She threw herself back, swatting the last of the edge of the cloud of bones away with the back of her hand, only allowing one to slice her, a small cut across her forearm behind the white gauntlet that covered the backs of her hands. She skid to a halt and abruptly changed directions, zigzagging left and right back down the way she'd come. But she was forced to a halt again as the young human's speed brought him before her once more. A flicker of emotion, the slightest slip of surprise, before her face once again regained its calm exterior. She almost reached to her side, feeling for the zanpakutou all ranked shinigami carried. But... she did not carry hers. Mayuri-sama did not allow it. "That was only for your rank, Nemu. You will not carry it. I forbid it. And it wasn't until now that she realized it might be because she was better able to defend herself with the weapon. But she couldn't dwell on that, and she reached forward, clutching with her fingers on both hands to the fabric at the boy's shoulders.
"Way of Destruction 64." She whispered softly. "Shakkahou." The reiatsu gathered in her palms, preparing to shoot out a strong blast directly into the skin.
Kimimaro felt the sheer heat of the energy radiating from her palms against his shoulders, accepted the inevitability of the attack calmly--and the opportunity: next moment he exposed his ribcage, unheeding of the damage it did to his clothing, and intent on what it could deal to his opponent. At such close proximity, the shinigami was impaled at several points. Not sufficient, however, and he closed his eyes and shifted--his collarbones shot out and through her hands, still clamped on him.
Nemu felt the bones beneath her hands shifting, felt them move as if by the young boy's will, but she did not remove her hands, only let a flinch cross her features as the bones of the rib cage, sharp and eerie white, cut through the black fabric and pale skin on her forearms, cleanly piercing through. The tips of the bones now stained with her blood, false as that blood may have been, it was red nonetheless. She finished the incantation just as her hands fell prey to the bones as well, locking them in place as she fired off the kidou that burned fast and strong, a searing beam of heat and reiatsu that could sheer through walls, and human bone. Though she was beginning to see that the bones of this young man were anything but ordinary. Most bones would not be shaped as such, be sharp, be weapons. And they seemed heavier, denser, than the usual that belonged to Mayuri-sama's experimental subjects. But she trusted in the kidou nonetheless, for the demon arts were the only weapons Mayuri-sama allowed her, and up to this point, they had served her well.
The force of the blast, while not sufficient to break through the layer of bone under his skin, nevertheless seared his nerves and skin, splintered his defense enough that the pain wracked his body like fire. Kimimaro, normally unmovable in battle, recoiled a little from the touch--caught himself and moved forward instead, driving his bones further into his opponent.
She felt the blast stop, felt it dissipate against the boy. And she couldn't help the surprise that crossed her face. What was he? She pulled back from his push forward, ripping her hands from the sharp bones, the twin holes in the center of her palms leaving blood on his clothing. And it was then that she saw what had stopped her kidou. A veritable wall of bone beneath his skin, dense and hard, though cracked and splintered from the reiatsu she had released. It took her a few twists of her arms to free herself fully from his bones, blood dripping slowly from each wound, two on her left arm and three on her right, small punctures that tore neatly through her muscles that screamed in protest of the moves she made. But she bore the pain stoically, stepping back several more paces before she stopped, suddenly ceased moving, arms hanging limp at her side.
"What is it you seek of me?" Nemu finally spoke, her voice even and controlled, though it was barely audible, very softly spoken.
It seemed that nothing short of total incapacitation would allow him to accomplish this mission--Kimimaro didn't retract his bones when the girl tore herself free, watching carefully as she retreated a few steps... and spoke. "My lord desires an audience with you," he replied as quietly. "He did not seem to think you would come willingly."
"I assume he doesn't wish to only speak cordially, if he sent you to bring me to him by force." Her voice was still barely above a whisper, though her shoulders were doing the slightest of heaves as she breathed, trying to slow her heart, her breath, trying to slow the flow of blood and the drip-drip-drip of the red falling to the ground. She tried not to tremble, though she wanted to, wanted to collapse against the wall and heal herself, repair the damaged spirit flesh that cried out in pain as real as that of humans. "Who do you serve?" She asked instead, getting the impression that if she moved an inch, made a bat of an eye, that the fighting would resume and the conversation, tremulous and small, would die.
Kimimaro's eyes caught every telltale sign, each twitch of weakness in the stiff motions of her hands and feet--he wasn't sure of the exact nature of the shinigami, nor the full extent of their powers; surely if they were gods of death, they had power over life itself? He should not be complacent--yet he remained still for the moment, consenting to listen. "My lord Orochimaru-sama is always cordial," he said simply, looking up at her with unwavering eyes. "If the messenger chooses his own methods, any discourtesy is to be attributed to myself alone."
As she listened to the young human's words she was twitching, seemingly as if from weakness, shuddering from fatigue and pain. But each move was her own, testing her motor functions, seeing what remained to her. Her fingers sporadically shivered, her forearms tensing and releasing, hands half-forming fists before falling limp once more. Her eyes were lidded, almost half-attentive, but she did hear each word, watched him for movement.
"I find it strange you would attack beforehand, when it would have been much easier to simply ask if I would agree to an audience first." She said slowly, her right shoulder spasming as she tried to force the nerves to listen to the signals she was sending them.
"This makes me come to the implication that Orochimaru plans something unsavory, that I may wish to not play part in." She knew this man, had been approached by him before. But she had turned down his offer to assist in his research under advice from a captain. She'd heard many tell her the man was evil, but she had been willing to see for herself. After all, she had heard the same whispered of Mayuri-sama, and he was not evil. He was a man of science, and she had originally been drawn to the ninja for the same reason. He had reminded her of her master, her creator. But now this sinister angle revealed itself and she waited for an answer, estimating in her mind how difficult it would be to continue to perform kidou with her right arm operating at only 23% capacity and her left at 67%.
"I fight for Orochimaru-sama; he told me to bring you to him, and I will," Kimimaro responded simply, aware that he was giving his opponent time to recover, but also using the respite to form new strategies based on what he had just learned of her techniques--extrapolating the future exchange, if you will. Also, he was reforming his bone shield, regrowing the bones he'd just used and lost--a natural but still arduous task considering the energy he'd just expended. It was frustrating--some time ago, he would have been able to fight for days without a rest. "Orochimaru-sama had already granted you an audience, which you declined. He thought you might wish to reconsider." Bones sliced cleanly through skin, looming around him and seemingly impenetrable.
"Perhaps if I knew what he wished to speak to me about?" Nemu offered, though she knew it was not good news, nor a kindly ear he offered. She could feel the intent radiating off the boy, could feel his determination, his willpower. It was the look of someone who had dedicated their whole being, their entirety, to one thing, whether that thing be master or ideal. And she recognized it within herself, that same emotion. Dedication. Loyalty. Her right arm gave another spasm, the black fabric of each arm sodden now with blood, though the wounds were in the beginnings of clot.
"He wished for you to aid in his search, did he not?" Kimimaro responded, toneless. His eyes never left Nemu's, although they flickered for a moment before he looked on, assessing her present physical condition--it didn't seem like he had lost too much advantage by way of the small exchange. And before the thought had closed, he had moved, darting in close to the wounded shinigami and letting fly four of the bones at his joints, large and blunt. If she didn't move, they would pin her to the wall; and he was already moving ahead, to the next step of the dance.
She had opened her mouth to reply, to inquire about whether he wanted to have her aid in researching, or her aid in being researched, when she caught his movement, springing back down the hallway once more, arms hanging limp behind her. But instead of going into a defensive position, she simply ran, long, slender legs carrying her fast. She managed to avoid the larger, blunt, bones, slamming into the door that led to the stairs, a flash of pain running up her shoulder, and rushing up them, pelting towards the roof of the building, where she would have more room to maneuver, more room to think, to move. Her blood left small splashes on the hard surfaces of the stairs as she drifted into a shyunpo, the quickest movements capable of shinigami, the flash steps that carried them great distances in shortened times.
It took a few moments, but the stairs were actually easier to negotiate than the narrow hallway; Kimimaro simply leapt from one landing to the next, a whirl of weightless color, feet barely touching the rails. By the time Nemu had managed to reach the last landing, he was nose to nose--bones flew, and riddled the door to the roof--he wasn't about to let her escape.
She screeched to a halt upon finding herself face to face with Kimimaro. She had a split second, and in that second she brought her legs to bear, abruptly dropping low and sweeping in a circular motion, using her left arm as tremulous support, aiming for the backs of his knees. If he dodged, fine, but if she hit she needed the moment it would provide for her to blast the door with a kidou she was already preparing in her battered right palm with an incantation bypass. “Blast Spell 33.” She spoke, “Soukatsui.”, directing her bloodied hand towards the bone-riddled door, the energy escaping in a wide blast of white heat.
He dodged the sweeping attack easily, seeing the beginnings of the motion before she'd even begun to lower her body, and even as she slid away onto the roof below his dodge, he was readying his weaponry--one toe touched the ground before he was swerving, leaping after her in the blink of an eye. His target would not escape if he had to chase her halfway across the city... Doubtful, since she was at least half-incapacitated, or perhaps merely stubborn. He aimed for several critical points at joints and muscle and let fly, bones blade-sharp and maximum density.
Nemu allowed a surge of something a bit like triumph to surge through her as the kidou tore the stalwart door from its hinges and gave her an escape path. She surged forward, leg muscles bunching and sprinting, racing towards the opening even as she knew he would surely be turning and coming after, attacking, never wavering. For she recognized a bit of herself... in this boy. In this human whose loyalty was evident with every blink and movement. And it disturbed her, this recognition. She had almost cleared the doorway when she felt the first impact on her already injured shoulder blade. With a cry, half stifled, she flinched, one foot tripping over the other and sending her into a half-coordinated series of rolls and flips across the concrete roof, feeling one, two, three, more impacts. Each sent her nerves screaming into her brain as she tried to halt her dragging sprawl across the apartment building. She finally managed, hand scrabbling for friction, the skin tearing, ripping. But she halted, back to her attacker. And as her body screamed to move, to go, she shook, trying to will action from muscles and joints that hurt, that burned. She managed to bring herself to one knee, arms hanging limp, unable to rise farther, the kneecap on her left leg broken, perhaps shattered. She turned slowly, to face her attacker. This... she couldn't believe it was going this way. "... What is your name?" She coughed out, her voice no longer calm and even, but tremulous and weak. She didn't know why she asked such a thing, but... it seemed important, somehow.
Kimimaro had followed the shinigami's awkward and uncontrolled tumble across the rooftop with long, flowing strides, and stood almost before her when she spoke--he halted his steps and looked down on her, eyes serene and distant. But he consented to answer: "Kimimaro."
Moments later, Nemu's arms and feet were expertly tied with a few lengths of carefully prepared rope, and Kimimaro had thrown her over his shoulder and left the rooftop--there were no traces of struggle remaining save for the residue bones, blood, and the shattered door.