[CLOSED Backlog] - Before They Were Pirate Lords, Part 1
Character(s): Tenten [Light Blue] and Kisame [Sky Blue]
Date: Mid-Spring 1657
Setting: Random town in China; blacksmith's shop
Summary: A chance meeting forges the foundation for a possibly EPIC reunion
Warning(s): PG/PG-13
Heavy boots thumped against the floor of the smithy as she wordlessly paced, waiting for her swords to be made. The soft fabric of her robes hidden under a layer of armor ruffled and shifted while she walked to and fro from one side of the room to the other. And she could tell that the blacksmith's patience was beginning to grow thin with her movements. Usually the model of patience, there was no denying the nervousness that Tenten felt. It had been years since the young woman had stepped foot back into China; not since that night when her mother had breathed her last words to her fleeing daughter. But that was only one side of the problem. It was not common for women to even find interest in the smithing arts let alone one appearing in such a place to have special Chinese swords made for them. But swords were necessary. Though a pirate of Singapore now, she could not run from the heritage of her mother. Remembering one's history meant everything. Because, as her mother used to say, without a past there could be no future.
Reaching up a gloved hand, she adjusted the helmet on her head, finding comfort in the bulky armor that covered her feminine features. To any other, she would simply be a young boy running an errand for his captain or lord. And she would say no word to contest that assumption. The less she spoke, the better.
It was of some assistance that he could withstand the heat, no doubt, with the excessive armor, thick layered clothing and skins to properly garb a young warrior. His niche was majestic in this case, even for an outsider.
Kisame was sitting outside boredly without a dagger or blade in the tattered sheath at his side, which he refused to upgrade or mend. The bench was rickety and old and there was not much support- or that he would trust from kindling- so he balanced his feet with a tense strength. It wouldn't do to fall so unceremoniously.
The sound of tattering feet and the jingling of welded metal drumming over boots or empty sheaths, just as his own, was beginning to annoy him; It was out of sync from the loud hammering of smithery materials on cooking metal, it was giving him a head ache.
It was only a child in there, but he was still tempted to glove the boy and kindly ask him to seal himself from waring his own patience thin- he was only waiting for repairs for his own two swords, but it seemed to be taking far longer than he would have hoped.
He had time constraints, he would over view production of the ship, have cargo and other stocks placed in, a crew- but those orders had all been met. But it wouldn't do to not be at the plank at the opportune moment. It was... striking him with a mild worry. Kisame had to be back there at the end of the weekend. Or else he would have to pay. However, the swords under repair were very important to him and there was nothing but the best to keep them refined or otherwise influenced by hammerne.
The tropical weather she was accustomed to, often times with the added layer of light armor weighing down her shoulders. Even being in the presence of men where women were not normally allowed to go was something Tenten had done on several occasions since joining her father on the open seas. But this place and all that it represented...it brought on a whole different weight on her nerves. Here, there was a likely chance that she would be recognized. Working as a server in her mother's Tea House, the girl had come across many travelers in her day, sailors and merchants from all over the country and the Pacific in particular because of the sea port located on the edge of town. Any one of them could be able to recall the young girl with the odango hair and be able to pull her face out from the distant memories of their past despite the years of age, dirt, and grime that clung to it now. So she had to be careful about who saw her.
And it was with that reasoning that she felt uneased when the stranger eyed her from the tattered bench in the corner of the room. Tenten had encountered all manner of men while working alongside her father, and so was a bit cautious of this man. His stature, even as he sat slumped over his legs, told of one who could command a dangerous power should he have need of it, a threat to all those who stood to oppose him.
And that would include me as well if I continue this pacing, she added as a caution to herself.
Stilling, she turned her attention to the finished swords hanging on the walls, all marked with the intricate design of their creator. This man was said to be the best craftsman in the land, that was why she had risked everything to come here and nowhere else for the swords of her ancestors. And Tenten could only assume that was the reason he was there as well for there were places located all along the coastal towns where one could reforge their weaponry. As if as an afterthought, she turned to curiously glance at the foreigner once more out the corner of her eye.
He has the look of a pirate, the young girl thought, But that could simply be my paranoia.
Paranoia always voiced a constant suspicion which marched hand in hand with many a loving and coinciding reaction- the two applying being basic human nature. There was always truth in them, and there would always be falsity. There was probably, with the growing population in the world, another man, who looked, spoke, sat and was as Kisame, but was an honest man, earning an honest living despite the suspicion due to the size and aura that thwarted any camouflage to settle into society.
Kisame was not so much a cruel person, but he had sailed under pirate colours since his mother had died when he was very young and when his sister had fallen ill. His father was never someone to coddle or be affectionate, but he raised him in his own image; Blood thirsty, an added ventrical which was drained and desperate for a pulmonary valve to offer some form of feed. Yet it was simply the thought of a twisted and writhing body below that made him starve, the only quenching being a killed notch under his belt. He was also amused, casual; He would have to be to ward off wary and decent eyes. Being anything but ordinary while around stuck up guards or other means of law enforcement would not do well for him.
The man ran a hand through his dark, but not colourless, hair. He was pleased to realize that the obnoxious pacing had ceased, though it only had him think of rising to join the young boy, seeing no threat with him. He pushed to his feet, listening to the snapping and creaking of worn wood and stepped inside, his unbroken in boots making a loud clacking as he stepped over the flattened planks. He eyed the boy again and then the man behind the far sided and unsanded counter, sighing.
He needed his swords. He admitted to himself, they were weaknesses.
Tenten's own insecurities had her gripping the sword hilt that she was examining more tightly than intended. It was not often that she walked about freely without a weapon to protect her, a wanting sense of security that dated back to that night when all her future was changed, when she was set free of the bonds that the Chinese society had placed on her since birth. But the sheer size of this man (nearly a foot above her own head) was enough to bring a level of caution.
Freedom was a strange thing. She had spent all her younger days dreaming of the day where it would become available to her, but once the time had finally come, the then nine year old girl was at a loss of what to do next. It had never occurred that such a dream could be achieved. And now that she had tasted it, tasted the sweet flavor of freedom that came with piracy, Tenten knew that she would die before losing it again. Appreciation for the chance to choose your own destiny; her father had taught her that much before crossing over to join Davy Jones at the bottom of the sea.
Watching a moment more while the large man eased up off of a bench that seemed to be on its last leg of life, she adjusted her helmet one more time before turning her attention back to the sword hanging with the other finished products of the craftsman's collection. They were not quite exactly the type of style she would have preferred and too bulky for her stature. But the forger had assured Tenten that the swords he was making for her would be a good fit, said it was his job to know without asking for particulars.
Kisame didn't care much to recognize the other occupants of the room, but did nothing to remain aloof as it was true; He wanted them to know he was here, he wanted them to see him. It would be foolish for a man, his size, to hide and blend into the shadows. Kisame was not a ninja, nor a petty thief. He was a pirate as well as a bandit (pertaining to the on-land situations). He was even intending on silencing the old forger, behind that counter and earning his pay by diligently hammering away for the nameless faces who came near him.
That being said, Kisame did not recognize the young man next to, and below, him, though he was rather curious about the foreign design of clothing, seeing as how this was the Oriental china, so near the ports of open water. Kisame had yet to take in sights as he had just started to grow independent from his own fathers demise, however... it wasn't so much of a bad thing;
The less he had seen among the world, the less people have seen of him. His name was not black listed or spotted on or under any flag or flat of papyrus. It was a rather calming gesture.
With a thick and unsure accent, being that his Chinese was limited and fairly broken with the typical English he was used to, he pressed both hands on the counter, leaning his upper body over. "I need my swords done. Now. Clean them, replace the old files and re-band the sheath. I will not be waiting for hours on end." Mainly because he didn't want to, nor did he have the time.
Tenten listened to the boom of the stranger's voice, thick with an accent she was only faintly familiar with but unable to place. And while the curious side of her conscious would have the girl riffling through long pages of memories stored deep within her mind, there would be no point in indulging such a notion. In this sort of lifestyle, there would always be men both foreign and familiar; there would always be bits and pieces of languages that would trigger an image from long ago or perhaps from yesterday that Tenten would never be able to pin-point. Because that was the life that they lived as pirates, nothing but nameless faces and broken memories of events that made up the timeline of her existence; that was the life she lived as being one among them.
Keeping that in mind, she glanced at the man once more, his patience seeming to grow shorter by the second if his demands were any indication. He was not a face among the pirates she had met in her short career, and he did not seem to be the sort of character that could be easily forgotten. So that meant that he was among the new generation of pirates exploring the seven seas, future leaders of the Brethren Court...like her. And to be a Brethren leader, she would have to possess the courage to face anything. And that meant finding the disposition to exchange words with this man.
"Patience." Softly she cleared her throat, adjusting her voice and tone to a lower range so she would at least pass for a young lad. Turning her head just slightly in his direction to address the tall man, gloved hands still hovering near the steel blade of the broadsword, she continued on coolly. "The care and mending of weapons cannot be rushed, not if you care for your swords as much as I believe that you do."
At the pale sound of a flowering voice, Kisame turned his sun coloured eyes to the speaker, but did not with his head. He let out an aggravated sigh, pushing off of the counter to turn his entire body, making eye contact with the smith before the young warrior in front of him. "Four days." He said with a frown. "It's been FOUR days! For a routine upgrade and refinery that I could have completed myself in half of one, if I had the materials."
Each and every day, Kisame had been pushed aside- he had paid upfront because he needed few or no breadcrumbs that would return to him- for another customer. And every day, Kisame had found his curing blades more and more at a loss. He loved his blades and wouldn't leave with out them, but the frustration and pain it took to deal with the fact that his tarnished and stained swords were going to be neglected once again. As they were now. Each day Kisame had returned to the smithary, only to find the two of them still lain over each other on the far end of the room.
Eyes the color of freshly turned soil under their boots remained firm as they met with those of the foreigner. Though the better part of her common sense was screaming for Tenten to simply back down and disappear into the shadows of obscurity once more before things got out of hand, the girl's pride and spirit would not allow for it. She had started something, so it would only seem fit that she finished it.
Tenten, you truly are your father's daughter, the pirate girl thought wryly.
"Weapon maintenance is taken rather seriously here, and from the look of you, there are many leagues between you and your home." She continued without fail or falter, doing well to keep the tone of her voice calmed and even. Maintaining the boyish octave was getting to be easier the longer she used it, though it was still difficult to manage. Tenten's voice was not meant to function this low and out of range of her feminine vocal chords. But she fought through it and continued on as best as she could. "Has it ever occurred to you that perhaps, he is unsure how to mend your weapon and is simply waiting until he has the proper time to give it adequate attention?"
That fact, she knew to be true, had been a witness to it in her own village many years prior when things had not been so tragic. The local forger had been so careful with his work and his customers were so patient with their wares, trusting that the length of time it took was telling of his level of artistry and craftsmanship; something a novice like this stranger obviously did not understand. "If you value your time so much, might I suggest procuring the required materials so that maintenance and repairs will no longer be such an inconvenience."
The man twitched with such a naive proclamation, but didn't feel the need to explain himself to someone so small (the lads voice wavered and squeaked- too young for the opinion to matter). But for the first insult, which he would consider the words as such, Kisame looked up and down at the boy, noting pudgy and cheeks and pink lips, far too young, before retorting "I've paid good money to have him MAKE the time and adequate attention." He would fight back, if he had to.
Kisame was from a place where fighting was in his blood, he was nomadic and was born on the peaks of savagery; Kill or be killed, walk on or be left behind... There was no time for the forgery to take over a week. 'Smiths of all types would work diligently for their meat and hydration fill and the materials were not often supplied to meet the requirements. The smiths worked to be of use, and if they were not, much like many native tribes of northern descent, they were left alone; Being nothing but a nuisance.
Even after Kisame was taken by his father, the materials were often made on the ship with loot they had pillaged, elsewhere.
Kisame was in a rush, which he had told the man- which he recalled sharing that he would take his business elsewhere if it would not be completed due to his schedule- was a weeks span. He expected there to be some work put in, rather than idling by as a new comer- a young, pretty face- who ordered just that very day, was tended to.
It infuriated him. Especially as now the boy, who was a generous half foot shorter than his shoulders, was lecturing him about patience.
It was not that she was lecturing them, although as Tenten thought over her exact words, perhaps she was unintentionally. She was simply trying to explain the possible reasons as to why the care of his weapons seemed to be taking so long. The smiths in this part of the country were thorough with their work and were familiar with time constraints pertaining to their customers as they had travelers stopping by for routine repairs all year round because of the seaport just on the edge of town. "Then perhaps he simply did not understand your request."
"Your grasp of the language is impressive, I'll admit, though broken at best." With a cough, she cleared her throat once more, feeling a lump slowly bubble every now and then from the extensive use of the lower tones of her vocal range. Naruto had gone through the same stage in his growth not too long ago, squeaking and wavering erratically until it evened out to that of a young man, so Tenten was not too concerned about how that would appear. It did, however, annoy her to no end in having to adjust her voice ever few minutes. How did boys deal with the frustration, she would never understand. "And that is not to say that there is a possibility that you are not using the right form. In this village alone there are at least five different dialects of Chinese."
Working in her mother's tea house, she had been exposed to at least that many dialects of the Chinese language on a daily basis and had to learn them to be able to serve the customers. And that was not taking into account the other languages that foreigners brought with them through their travels.
The other languages would be his own, so if anything the forger was neglecting his yearning to share his proper language- which he mastered quite easily. "Well you understood me." He replied with a frown and crossing of the arms, eyes shutting with the next slam of steel hammer on a piece of metal.
"And he understood just fine. Days ago." When there was money involved. It was more than agitating that he was pushed aside, even today, he had come to check up on the progress and was expecting just a few of the splinters of metal to be replaced from his smaller sword which he kept on person like a dagger. However there was nothing, and his main sword, the one he took pleasure from wielding was simply sitting BELOW the hand held blade. It was insulting.
"I understand just fine, but that is only because I know five different dialects and am accustomed to speaking with those who struggle with the language. Chinese is not the easiest tongue to learn as you, no doubt, would understand." Finally finding the initiative to turn her eyes away from the finished swords hanging along the walls, Tenten glanced over the stranger's shoulder at the forger as he pounded a burning sliver of metal placed against the anvil, more than likely what was to become one half of her set of twin swords. He continued to work peacefully in ignorant bliss, not a twitch or a tick of acknowledgement that they were discussing his negligence. Obviously, he could not understand a single word being spoken otherwise his pride would have retaliated at their show of disrespect concerning his services. "Here they speak several variations of Min. You are speaking a mixture of the Wu, which is a northern dialect, and the Hakka tongues, spoken more fluently the further inland you travel. You would have better luck with your order using the Standard Mandarin."
That had been the tongue Tenten learned to rely upon by default, not trusting to the off chance that she would come across a pocket of people sharing a different dialect than those villages that surrounded them. The Chinese were nothing if not a bit rebellious if their different tongues were any comment on that. "Perhaps he misunderstood what you were trying to say. I've seen men come in and out through the smithies so often with extravagant ideas, and money is thrown about so carelessly these days. It is sometimes difficult to know what is truly required of their services."
Kisame stared back at the boy; it was obvious then, that he had very limited Chinese. He didn't know the regions or form of dialect, he spoke the Chinese he learned from one of the sailors on his fathers ship not long ago. "Then how about you tell the man that I've expected him to have my work done within another two days."
It enraged him, really to think that he had to depend on the boy, but it was better than having to hire a translator when he was planning on stealing the ship and crew that were working on his order; They all seemed to have understood him properly. Even the black smith here understood him initially. Condescending.
Though it sounded like a request, the tone in which the question had been proposed left no room for discussion; she would be translating the order and charged with making sure that it was put through. And if the stranger’s order was still not fulfilled within the time he demanded, it would then be on her head just as much as it was the forger’s.
Tenten was accustomed to such threats made on her life, so her reaction was less than that of the usual hysterics. If anything, she was more annoyed at being told what to do rather than just being asked. But despite that (and the frown that had settled on her lips from the booming “request”), she still took cool and clean strides towards the counter, motioning with a heavy-gloved hand for the smith’s attention so that she could whisper and discuss the order in the man’s ears.
“He apologizes for the misunderstanding,” she recited in return, “He will have the weapons fixed within the allotted time and has offered to give you a discount for inconveniencing you.”
Kisame frowned and tsked- now that was rather patronizing, even though he was getting his way- giving a begrudged glare at the young man. He was not angry anymore, more so self defeated, which was enraging in its own right. Money talked when you couldn't, it seemed; The virtue of the forger was strangely kind and Kismae decided not to trust that it was on good faith that he was offering a refund. It was probably due to the witness as well as the ongoing threat; He was sure.
But then again, he was also skeptical. Oh well. "Good." he said, eyes relaxing into a simple stare down at the boy, blank in expression. He couldn't actually be expecting a notion of thanks- Kisame couldn't do that.
Tenten frowned in return, though perhaps not for the reason he might have assumed. It was never really an expectation of hers to receive a word of appreciation in return for her services. Such things were never expected and would have only appeared odd (and perhaps viewed as a sign of weakness as well) for a person of his stature and obvious reputation.
No, her expression was more aimed towards the forger. Because indeed, he had understood the order fine enough (men tended to understand fairly well when money was involved, no matter what language they knew). But as the stranger had no doubt suspected, his order had been placed at the bottom of the list, even after the ones that were placed only hours before her arrival. It was obvious; the man did not welcome foreigners with open arms, especially when they came barging in barking orders as he had described Kisame doing. Understandable. But there was a job to be done and it should have been done, professionally with no personal or emotional attachments.
Only with a few words of negotiation, an offer to pay extra than what had been initially paid (and a very eerily calm threat of injury to every nerve in the man’s body so that he could no longer breathe properly let alone work again), did he finally agree to start working on foreign blades. And they say pirates are the ones with no respect. Tch, easier to criticize others, I suppose.
Nimble fingers slipping out a few coins from her coin purse, Tenten placed them gently on the counter beside him. “Here. The money he promised to return.”
Kisame frowned and looked at the boy with an arched brow. "I don't need your money, kid." He felt very little of himself at the temptation of taking from someone who had helped him, despite the fact that he wanted to break his neck; It was almost mocking to watch the child give him a few purse coins- said purse being very detailed and delicate, which was a strange thing for a boy to have on him- but Kisame said nothing of it nor did he attempt to take the small cuts of metal on the worn counter.
"But it is not my money. It is yours." And with that, she slid the coins closer, intent on her mission until he would accept them. "The forger said that he would give you a discount. This is it."
It was perhaps idealistic of her to even believe that he would accept such an excuse, especially when he had obviously seen Tenten take the money from her own pockets (so much for trying to be discreet). And perhaps it was foolish of her to think that his pride would let a 'boy' compensate for another's mistake and poor conduct. It had been wrong to deny service to the stranger, and a small part of her still believed in honor, even among pirates. So Tenten did what she believed was the right thing to do, such was the innocence that the young girl still possessed.
"....I dont call for charity; He owes the money." He frowned, fingering the coins before sliding them back, leering almost childishly. "Not you."
He pulled his hand back and sent a threatening glare at the forger who was very interested by the two of them. He deserved to die for daring to thwart his efforts of completing a self set deadline. However said deadline, if breeched, would only cause him to honestly pay. Kisame did not have the money to pay for slaves, which he found were very convenient, a ship as well as the stock which fueled it. He had the money for forgery and a small bribe for the occasional mans favor. But that was all.
Kisame did not plan on sailing with an empty pocket or an empty sheathe; it was all he could do to keep from throttling the smug old man. "And I'd warn you to stay clear of rising my temper. Take your money boy and stow it away."
Her eyes followed his gaze, easily sliding to regard the blacksmith with contained loathing. It amazed Tenten at times the amont of emotion a simple look could contain, even while the rest of the body showed no outwards sign. Patience and control, others would call it. Years left to a stifling existence of social tradition, she would correct them. Both were very trivial matters in the grand scheme of things now that she was free of that burden. But still, the man's actions had been shameful, both to others of his profession and to his the people he was to represent. It would have been nothing less than what he deserved should the stranger find out the truth. But death was unnecessary, even for the misconduct of the blacksmith.
Locking on to the golden gleams of the stranger's eyes instead, she slid the coins towards him once more, insistent. "Then take it as payment for your troubles. I've no grand use for them and will not take the coins back."
For a moment longer, her eyes were fixed and unmoving, glinting with a resolve that even he could understand and perhaps respect in return. And then the moment was gone, ending with Tenten stepping away from the counter with a tap of her boot before he could contest it further.
Kisame wanted to contest it further, but such opportunity was stolen from the fray of the mildly stretched rope of tension, ending with him a few coins richer. He tapped the counter again and drew the forgers attention, certain to have his words across; and if he could not understand(which he doubted furiously) his body language and razor teeth certainly did.
Although the words had ended and the message had been translated over again, Kisame still could not fathom how neglectful such a man he was. It infuriated him, again, and then over once more; He should simply over come the barricade of the counter- which he was sure the defensive word fit for this select smith- and show him how truly rushed he was.
Kisame turned his attention to the young man aside, sitting down on the rickety bench outside, deciding to contain his anger meant removing himself from the current setting. Though it was only a few steps away; Only the lack of the rotton man made his breathing more fluoent and temperate, positively. "What's your name then, boy?" He asked, glancing over, noting the length of the garbed childs legs; the slim figure and pudgy and feminine complection beneath the helmet.
There was no mournful regret or apprehension about the loss of a few coins; Tenten really had no use for them in general. Supplies and rations for their trip was paid for with the money set aside from their discovered treasures and it was only on rare occasions that she felt the need to buy things for herself with the shares she had earned on such adventures (save for the more than occasional trip to bars and tea houses). The rest generally was kept out of sight and out of reach of the crew.
All thoughts on the matter disappeared however with the foreigner's question. She should have been prepared for it, had suspected it was coming. It was only a matter of time before he would ask for her name after all. Straightening up her back to add a little to her height, Tenten quickly replied with the first name that came to mind in answer to the stranger's question, one that would be easy to remember and respond to for the duration of their meeting.
"Tian," she replied easily and without falter, clearing her throat once more to clear out the awkward lump in her vocal chords, "And you are?"
Kisame pondered about answering 'Tian', whom he found having a strange name to his native dialect, however he wasn't sure if he would give it so freely- despite the payment, which was unrelated.
He gave the child a toothed grin, which came natural to him, and his still born sister(so it seemed, the small spook had been so even before birth); But neither his parents-both passed now- had that wicked grin, that shark like maw or the predatorial eyes; Even for someone born from a snide thief who wielded assassins and blood like it was wine.
Opening the cavern of razors, Kisame contemplated, words on the tip of his tongue before smirking. "Kisame." He said, offering the lad that much; His name was strangely native for these parts- or a close neighbor- despite origin. But it didn't matter. His name did nothing to reflect on him personally (seeing as how he lacked all languages but Danish, English and the minuscule level of Chinese; As lectured by the boy set in front of him, the berserk man had no idea what the Japanese definition listed). 'What's in a name?' was a moronic philosophers question.
Tenten's eyes narrowed just a fraction at Kisame's grin, seeming too cheerful to be genuine or true. She was very suspicious of such expressions. They had always made her believe that the owner was up to no good, which, considering the reputation that this foreigner had, might not have been too far off. It was no safe bet that he had even given her his true name, let alone held true intentions to go alone with that toothy grin.
However, he had not given Tenten any reason to distrust either. If anything, the situation and encounter would mark him as a victim, unintentional and unknowingly because of his limited knowledge of the region and the language. And so it was with that, that she gave Kisame a polite bow of her head in greeting. "It is good to meet you, Kisame-san."
Straightening up once more, she adjusted the armor. "And what brings you here to China?"
Kisame shrugged, once again thinking onto what his answer should be; He could easilly tell the child to push off for being nosy, but it was also delightful to him to think that a child would not be able to piece together what his true intentions were. Besides, all he was doing was "Gathering a ship and crew." before sailing, he would have repairs to his precious swords, and to them a guarantee of refinity, but seeing as how the forger was negligent; he would look to be sure that they would simply be held firmly into the hilt.
Shutting his eyes for a moment after answering her- or rather Him- he breathed in and out, settling his thoughts as though it was a labor. He turned to the short lad and gave him another once over, scrutiny in his stare; How could a boy so young but old enough to enter changes be with such wide hips and lengthy legs- It was terrifying for Kisame to think that there were boys being spawned into the world such as that. Pretty... all but teases to siren.
"And you?" Although he did not doubt that Tian's origin was China, he did think that he was not living here for a permanent basis. Who dressed in such armor when walking the streets on a daily basis?
Tenten tried her best to not fidget under his scrutiny, though could not stop the initial reaction to take a step back from his stare. A little distance would be good, more would be better. She supposed the looks and lingering glances that Kisame kept giving her were innocent. But they were enough to alarm the warning beacons in her head. Because the more he examined, the more he noted of her, the easier it would become for him to piece together her true identity.
Stepping around the foreigner, she began pacing around the length of the smithy once more, giving her idle thoughts something else to focus on as well as lessening a chance for Kisame to look closer at her boyish face. “Only to find a weapon worthy of wielding in battle.” To emphasize her reasoning, she lifted a heavily-gloved hand to examine another blade hanging on the far wall, looking almost interested. Deep down, Tenten wondered if she should still be doing business with such a moral-less blacksmith.
"You'd wear such bulky and warrior envious armor to a mear smith? What's your problem boy?" He chuckled, once noticing Tian's timidity of his wandering eyes. He was not so much perverse as would be thought with such a wide grin and flaming eyes; He was rather inverted, but it was always fun to play on the naive and innocent thoughts until they became morbid. Voicing one of his thoughts, he chuckled at the expression. "Are you afraid that some lord will find you attractive and bid you his bride? What a surprise on wedding night- HM?"
Again his native accent slipped out, chuckling once more. He found it more than amusing to see such a grotesquely feminine boy- but ventured no further to poke fun at the femininity.
"Or do you simply think that there would be enemies ready to thwart you at the instant entry of such a place?" Kisame had every right to think that Tian had never been to a smithing complex before. "Or... is it simply because you wanted to look tough? You do look like a fool for someone so young to be prancing about in such heavy and hot armor."
Kisame himself wore no armor, just the leather belt and straps that kept his nomadic shirt and pants together- boots before patched more often than nought. He would have to get a new pair before he left. And maybe a hat. He hated having such a dry crisp to his hair under such heat. It was deplorable- the chill from Denmark was always much nicer than the dust of China.
Kisame wasnt considering such a small 'man' to have anywhere important to go or fight with the lack of age under his belt. Kisame could be not too much older than the boy- maybe half a decade- but it was decent enough to know the waters with more experience.
He was poking fun at her expense, and gaining substantial ground with it as well to which Tenten could not help but frown even more at the notion. The implications with Kisame's tauntings could not be more true. There was no hiding the feminine charms of her face and legs. But that was not all uncommon among young men who were still growing into their skin. What mattered was that he could not see the curves of her chest hidden under the heavy leather and iron, the long waves of hair crammed into her helmet, or more importantly the lack of bulge in her pelvic region. There would be a lot of questions and a lot of explanations should those features be discovered.
Settling on a irritated tolerance for his mocking, she chose to simply ignore the emotions that came afterwards with a heavy sigh. To react in rage or denial would only give him what he wanted. And Tenten was not about to give this foreigner the satisfaction. "Believe what you will, good sir. I've a feeling nothing I say will change your opinion of me on the matter."
"My captain runs a tight schedule, and I will use every moment we are on land to get what I need. I've neither the time nor the patience to spare for impractical ideals such as changing my garments." She turned on the balls of her heels, continuing her slow strides along the angle of the wall. "One should not have to change for the sake of convenience."
"As for the armour, it's quite comfortable once you've grown accustomed to the weight." Hands clasped behind her back, Tenten carefully studied the various weapons hanging in the smith shop. They were plain, yet to be adorned with intricate designs unlike the collection that what the blacksmith had shown her previously when she had made the decision to place her order with him. But they had the potential to become so with a careful eye and a steady hand, a talent that the young woman lacked the resources for. On a wooden ship in the middle of the ocean, learning and maintaining the smithing arts was out of the question and an impossibility. "Wearing it for days on end out at sea have allotted that small advantage over my enemies."
Date: Mid-Spring 1657
Setting: Random town in China; blacksmith's shop
Summary: A chance meeting forges the foundation for a possibly EPIC reunion
Warning(s): PG/PG-13
Heavy boots thumped against the floor of the smithy as she wordlessly paced, waiting for her swords to be made. The soft fabric of her robes hidden under a layer of armor ruffled and shifted while she walked to and fro from one side of the room to the other. And she could tell that the blacksmith's patience was beginning to grow thin with her movements. Usually the model of patience, there was no denying the nervousness that Tenten felt. It had been years since the young woman had stepped foot back into China; not since that night when her mother had breathed her last words to her fleeing daughter. But that was only one side of the problem. It was not common for women to even find interest in the smithing arts let alone one appearing in such a place to have special Chinese swords made for them. But swords were necessary. Though a pirate of Singapore now, she could not run from the heritage of her mother. Remembering one's history meant everything. Because, as her mother used to say, without a past there could be no future.
Reaching up a gloved hand, she adjusted the helmet on her head, finding comfort in the bulky armor that covered her feminine features. To any other, she would simply be a young boy running an errand for his captain or lord. And she would say no word to contest that assumption. The less she spoke, the better.
It was of some assistance that he could withstand the heat, no doubt, with the excessive armor, thick layered clothing and skins to properly garb a young warrior. His niche was majestic in this case, even for an outsider.
Kisame was sitting outside boredly without a dagger or blade in the tattered sheath at his side, which he refused to upgrade or mend. The bench was rickety and old and there was not much support- or that he would trust from kindling- so he balanced his feet with a tense strength. It wouldn't do to fall so unceremoniously.
The sound of tattering feet and the jingling of welded metal drumming over boots or empty sheaths, just as his own, was beginning to annoy him; It was out of sync from the loud hammering of smithery materials on cooking metal, it was giving him a head ache.
It was only a child in there, but he was still tempted to glove the boy and kindly ask him to seal himself from waring his own patience thin- he was only waiting for repairs for his own two swords, but it seemed to be taking far longer than he would have hoped.
He had time constraints, he would over view production of the ship, have cargo and other stocks placed in, a crew- but those orders had all been met. But it wouldn't do to not be at the plank at the opportune moment. It was... striking him with a mild worry. Kisame had to be back there at the end of the weekend. Or else he would have to pay. However, the swords under repair were very important to him and there was nothing but the best to keep them refined or otherwise influenced by hammerne.
The tropical weather she was accustomed to, often times with the added layer of light armor weighing down her shoulders. Even being in the presence of men where women were not normally allowed to go was something Tenten had done on several occasions since joining her father on the open seas. But this place and all that it represented...it brought on a whole different weight on her nerves. Here, there was a likely chance that she would be recognized. Working as a server in her mother's Tea House, the girl had come across many travelers in her day, sailors and merchants from all over the country and the Pacific in particular because of the sea port located on the edge of town. Any one of them could be able to recall the young girl with the odango hair and be able to pull her face out from the distant memories of their past despite the years of age, dirt, and grime that clung to it now. So she had to be careful about who saw her.
And it was with that reasoning that she felt uneased when the stranger eyed her from the tattered bench in the corner of the room. Tenten had encountered all manner of men while working alongside her father, and so was a bit cautious of this man. His stature, even as he sat slumped over his legs, told of one who could command a dangerous power should he have need of it, a threat to all those who stood to oppose him.
And that would include me as well if I continue this pacing, she added as a caution to herself.
Stilling, she turned her attention to the finished swords hanging on the walls, all marked with the intricate design of their creator. This man was said to be the best craftsman in the land, that was why she had risked everything to come here and nowhere else for the swords of her ancestors. And Tenten could only assume that was the reason he was there as well for there were places located all along the coastal towns where one could reforge their weaponry. As if as an afterthought, she turned to curiously glance at the foreigner once more out the corner of her eye.
He has the look of a pirate, the young girl thought, But that could simply be my paranoia.
Paranoia always voiced a constant suspicion which marched hand in hand with many a loving and coinciding reaction- the two applying being basic human nature. There was always truth in them, and there would always be falsity. There was probably, with the growing population in the world, another man, who looked, spoke, sat and was as Kisame, but was an honest man, earning an honest living despite the suspicion due to the size and aura that thwarted any camouflage to settle into society.
Kisame was not so much a cruel person, but he had sailed under pirate colours since his mother had died when he was very young and when his sister had fallen ill. His father was never someone to coddle or be affectionate, but he raised him in his own image; Blood thirsty, an added ventrical which was drained and desperate for a pulmonary valve to offer some form of feed. Yet it was simply the thought of a twisted and writhing body below that made him starve, the only quenching being a killed notch under his belt. He was also amused, casual; He would have to be to ward off wary and decent eyes. Being anything but ordinary while around stuck up guards or other means of law enforcement would not do well for him.
The man ran a hand through his dark, but not colourless, hair. He was pleased to realize that the obnoxious pacing had ceased, though it only had him think of rising to join the young boy, seeing no threat with him. He pushed to his feet, listening to the snapping and creaking of worn wood and stepped inside, his unbroken in boots making a loud clacking as he stepped over the flattened planks. He eyed the boy again and then the man behind the far sided and unsanded counter, sighing.
He needed his swords. He admitted to himself, they were weaknesses.
Tenten's own insecurities had her gripping the sword hilt that she was examining more tightly than intended. It was not often that she walked about freely without a weapon to protect her, a wanting sense of security that dated back to that night when all her future was changed, when she was set free of the bonds that the Chinese society had placed on her since birth. But the sheer size of this man (nearly a foot above her own head) was enough to bring a level of caution.
Freedom was a strange thing. She had spent all her younger days dreaming of the day where it would become available to her, but once the time had finally come, the then nine year old girl was at a loss of what to do next. It had never occurred that such a dream could be achieved. And now that she had tasted it, tasted the sweet flavor of freedom that came with piracy, Tenten knew that she would die before losing it again. Appreciation for the chance to choose your own destiny; her father had taught her that much before crossing over to join Davy Jones at the bottom of the sea.
Watching a moment more while the large man eased up off of a bench that seemed to be on its last leg of life, she adjusted her helmet one more time before turning her attention back to the sword hanging with the other finished products of the craftsman's collection. They were not quite exactly the type of style she would have preferred and too bulky for her stature. But the forger had assured Tenten that the swords he was making for her would be a good fit, said it was his job to know without asking for particulars.
Kisame didn't care much to recognize the other occupants of the room, but did nothing to remain aloof as it was true; He wanted them to know he was here, he wanted them to see him. It would be foolish for a man, his size, to hide and blend into the shadows. Kisame was not a ninja, nor a petty thief. He was a pirate as well as a bandit (pertaining to the on-land situations). He was even intending on silencing the old forger, behind that counter and earning his pay by diligently hammering away for the nameless faces who came near him.
That being said, Kisame did not recognize the young man next to, and below, him, though he was rather curious about the foreign design of clothing, seeing as how this was the Oriental china, so near the ports of open water. Kisame had yet to take in sights as he had just started to grow independent from his own fathers demise, however... it wasn't so much of a bad thing;
The less he had seen among the world, the less people have seen of him. His name was not black listed or spotted on or under any flag or flat of papyrus. It was a rather calming gesture.
With a thick and unsure accent, being that his Chinese was limited and fairly broken with the typical English he was used to, he pressed both hands on the counter, leaning his upper body over. "I need my swords done. Now. Clean them, replace the old files and re-band the sheath. I will not be waiting for hours on end." Mainly because he didn't want to, nor did he have the time.
Tenten listened to the boom of the stranger's voice, thick with an accent she was only faintly familiar with but unable to place. And while the curious side of her conscious would have the girl riffling through long pages of memories stored deep within her mind, there would be no point in indulging such a notion. In this sort of lifestyle, there would always be men both foreign and familiar; there would always be bits and pieces of languages that would trigger an image from long ago or perhaps from yesterday that Tenten would never be able to pin-point. Because that was the life that they lived as pirates, nothing but nameless faces and broken memories of events that made up the timeline of her existence; that was the life she lived as being one among them.
Keeping that in mind, she glanced at the man once more, his patience seeming to grow shorter by the second if his demands were any indication. He was not a face among the pirates she had met in her short career, and he did not seem to be the sort of character that could be easily forgotten. So that meant that he was among the new generation of pirates exploring the seven seas, future leaders of the Brethren Court...like her. And to be a Brethren leader, she would have to possess the courage to face anything. And that meant finding the disposition to exchange words with this man.
"Patience." Softly she cleared her throat, adjusting her voice and tone to a lower range so she would at least pass for a young lad. Turning her head just slightly in his direction to address the tall man, gloved hands still hovering near the steel blade of the broadsword, she continued on coolly. "The care and mending of weapons cannot be rushed, not if you care for your swords as much as I believe that you do."
At the pale sound of a flowering voice, Kisame turned his sun coloured eyes to the speaker, but did not with his head. He let out an aggravated sigh, pushing off of the counter to turn his entire body, making eye contact with the smith before the young warrior in front of him. "Four days." He said with a frown. "It's been FOUR days! For a routine upgrade and refinery that I could have completed myself in half of one, if I had the materials."
Each and every day, Kisame had been pushed aside- he had paid upfront because he needed few or no breadcrumbs that would return to him- for another customer. And every day, Kisame had found his curing blades more and more at a loss. He loved his blades and wouldn't leave with out them, but the frustration and pain it took to deal with the fact that his tarnished and stained swords were going to be neglected once again. As they were now. Each day Kisame had returned to the smithary, only to find the two of them still lain over each other on the far end of the room.
Eyes the color of freshly turned soil under their boots remained firm as they met with those of the foreigner. Though the better part of her common sense was screaming for Tenten to simply back down and disappear into the shadows of obscurity once more before things got out of hand, the girl's pride and spirit would not allow for it. She had started something, so it would only seem fit that she finished it.
Tenten, you truly are your father's daughter, the pirate girl thought wryly.
"Weapon maintenance is taken rather seriously here, and from the look of you, there are many leagues between you and your home." She continued without fail or falter, doing well to keep the tone of her voice calmed and even. Maintaining the boyish octave was getting to be easier the longer she used it, though it was still difficult to manage. Tenten's voice was not meant to function this low and out of range of her feminine vocal chords. But she fought through it and continued on as best as she could. "Has it ever occurred to you that perhaps, he is unsure how to mend your weapon and is simply waiting until he has the proper time to give it adequate attention?"
That fact, she knew to be true, had been a witness to it in her own village many years prior when things had not been so tragic. The local forger had been so careful with his work and his customers were so patient with their wares, trusting that the length of time it took was telling of his level of artistry and craftsmanship; something a novice like this stranger obviously did not understand. "If you value your time so much, might I suggest procuring the required materials so that maintenance and repairs will no longer be such an inconvenience."
The man twitched with such a naive proclamation, but didn't feel the need to explain himself to someone so small (the lads voice wavered and squeaked- too young for the opinion to matter). But for the first insult, which he would consider the words as such, Kisame looked up and down at the boy, noting pudgy and cheeks and pink lips, far too young, before retorting "I've paid good money to have him MAKE the time and adequate attention." He would fight back, if he had to.
Kisame was from a place where fighting was in his blood, he was nomadic and was born on the peaks of savagery; Kill or be killed, walk on or be left behind... There was no time for the forgery to take over a week. 'Smiths of all types would work diligently for their meat and hydration fill and the materials were not often supplied to meet the requirements. The smiths worked to be of use, and if they were not, much like many native tribes of northern descent, they were left alone; Being nothing but a nuisance.
Even after Kisame was taken by his father, the materials were often made on the ship with loot they had pillaged, elsewhere.
Kisame was in a rush, which he had told the man- which he recalled sharing that he would take his business elsewhere if it would not be completed due to his schedule- was a weeks span. He expected there to be some work put in, rather than idling by as a new comer- a young, pretty face- who ordered just that very day, was tended to.
It infuriated him. Especially as now the boy, who was a generous half foot shorter than his shoulders, was lecturing him about patience.
It was not that she was lecturing them, although as Tenten thought over her exact words, perhaps she was unintentionally. She was simply trying to explain the possible reasons as to why the care of his weapons seemed to be taking so long. The smiths in this part of the country were thorough with their work and were familiar with time constraints pertaining to their customers as they had travelers stopping by for routine repairs all year round because of the seaport just on the edge of town. "Then perhaps he simply did not understand your request."
"Your grasp of the language is impressive, I'll admit, though broken at best." With a cough, she cleared her throat once more, feeling a lump slowly bubble every now and then from the extensive use of the lower tones of her vocal range. Naruto had gone through the same stage in his growth not too long ago, squeaking and wavering erratically until it evened out to that of a young man, so Tenten was not too concerned about how that would appear. It did, however, annoy her to no end in having to adjust her voice ever few minutes. How did boys deal with the frustration, she would never understand. "And that is not to say that there is a possibility that you are not using the right form. In this village alone there are at least five different dialects of Chinese."
Working in her mother's tea house, she had been exposed to at least that many dialects of the Chinese language on a daily basis and had to learn them to be able to serve the customers. And that was not taking into account the other languages that foreigners brought with them through their travels.
The other languages would be his own, so if anything the forger was neglecting his yearning to share his proper language- which he mastered quite easily. "Well you understood me." He replied with a frown and crossing of the arms, eyes shutting with the next slam of steel hammer on a piece of metal.
"And he understood just fine. Days ago." When there was money involved. It was more than agitating that he was pushed aside, even today, he had come to check up on the progress and was expecting just a few of the splinters of metal to be replaced from his smaller sword which he kept on person like a dagger. However there was nothing, and his main sword, the one he took pleasure from wielding was simply sitting BELOW the hand held blade. It was insulting.
"I understand just fine, but that is only because I know five different dialects and am accustomed to speaking with those who struggle with the language. Chinese is not the easiest tongue to learn as you, no doubt, would understand." Finally finding the initiative to turn her eyes away from the finished swords hanging along the walls, Tenten glanced over the stranger's shoulder at the forger as he pounded a burning sliver of metal placed against the anvil, more than likely what was to become one half of her set of twin swords. He continued to work peacefully in ignorant bliss, not a twitch or a tick of acknowledgement that they were discussing his negligence. Obviously, he could not understand a single word being spoken otherwise his pride would have retaliated at their show of disrespect concerning his services. "Here they speak several variations of Min. You are speaking a mixture of the Wu, which is a northern dialect, and the Hakka tongues, spoken more fluently the further inland you travel. You would have better luck with your order using the Standard Mandarin."
That had been the tongue Tenten learned to rely upon by default, not trusting to the off chance that she would come across a pocket of people sharing a different dialect than those villages that surrounded them. The Chinese were nothing if not a bit rebellious if their different tongues were any comment on that. "Perhaps he misunderstood what you were trying to say. I've seen men come in and out through the smithies so often with extravagant ideas, and money is thrown about so carelessly these days. It is sometimes difficult to know what is truly required of their services."
Kisame stared back at the boy; it was obvious then, that he had very limited Chinese. He didn't know the regions or form of dialect, he spoke the Chinese he learned from one of the sailors on his fathers ship not long ago. "Then how about you tell the man that I've expected him to have my work done within another two days."
It enraged him, really to think that he had to depend on the boy, but it was better than having to hire a translator when he was planning on stealing the ship and crew that were working on his order; They all seemed to have understood him properly. Even the black smith here understood him initially. Condescending.
Though it sounded like a request, the tone in which the question had been proposed left no room for discussion; she would be translating the order and charged with making sure that it was put through. And if the stranger’s order was still not fulfilled within the time he demanded, it would then be on her head just as much as it was the forger’s.
Tenten was accustomed to such threats made on her life, so her reaction was less than that of the usual hysterics. If anything, she was more annoyed at being told what to do rather than just being asked. But despite that (and the frown that had settled on her lips from the booming “request”), she still took cool and clean strides towards the counter, motioning with a heavy-gloved hand for the smith’s attention so that she could whisper and discuss the order in the man’s ears.
“He apologizes for the misunderstanding,” she recited in return, “He will have the weapons fixed within the allotted time and has offered to give you a discount for inconveniencing you.”
Kisame frowned and tsked- now that was rather patronizing, even though he was getting his way- giving a begrudged glare at the young man. He was not angry anymore, more so self defeated, which was enraging in its own right. Money talked when you couldn't, it seemed; The virtue of the forger was strangely kind and Kismae decided not to trust that it was on good faith that he was offering a refund. It was probably due to the witness as well as the ongoing threat; He was sure.
But then again, he was also skeptical. Oh well. "Good." he said, eyes relaxing into a simple stare down at the boy, blank in expression. He couldn't actually be expecting a notion of thanks- Kisame couldn't do that.
Tenten frowned in return, though perhaps not for the reason he might have assumed. It was never really an expectation of hers to receive a word of appreciation in return for her services. Such things were never expected and would have only appeared odd (and perhaps viewed as a sign of weakness as well) for a person of his stature and obvious reputation.
No, her expression was more aimed towards the forger. Because indeed, he had understood the order fine enough (men tended to understand fairly well when money was involved, no matter what language they knew). But as the stranger had no doubt suspected, his order had been placed at the bottom of the list, even after the ones that were placed only hours before her arrival. It was obvious; the man did not welcome foreigners with open arms, especially when they came barging in barking orders as he had described Kisame doing. Understandable. But there was a job to be done and it should have been done, professionally with no personal or emotional attachments.
Only with a few words of negotiation, an offer to pay extra than what had been initially paid (and a very eerily calm threat of injury to every nerve in the man’s body so that he could no longer breathe properly let alone work again), did he finally agree to start working on foreign blades. And they say pirates are the ones with no respect. Tch, easier to criticize others, I suppose.
Nimble fingers slipping out a few coins from her coin purse, Tenten placed them gently on the counter beside him. “Here. The money he promised to return.”
Kisame frowned and looked at the boy with an arched brow. "I don't need your money, kid." He felt very little of himself at the temptation of taking from someone who had helped him, despite the fact that he wanted to break his neck; It was almost mocking to watch the child give him a few purse coins- said purse being very detailed and delicate, which was a strange thing for a boy to have on him- but Kisame said nothing of it nor did he attempt to take the small cuts of metal on the worn counter.
"But it is not my money. It is yours." And with that, she slid the coins closer, intent on her mission until he would accept them. "The forger said that he would give you a discount. This is it."
It was perhaps idealistic of her to even believe that he would accept such an excuse, especially when he had obviously seen Tenten take the money from her own pockets (so much for trying to be discreet). And perhaps it was foolish of her to think that his pride would let a 'boy' compensate for another's mistake and poor conduct. It had been wrong to deny service to the stranger, and a small part of her still believed in honor, even among pirates. So Tenten did what she believed was the right thing to do, such was the innocence that the young girl still possessed.
"....I dont call for charity; He owes the money." He frowned, fingering the coins before sliding them back, leering almost childishly. "Not you."
He pulled his hand back and sent a threatening glare at the forger who was very interested by the two of them. He deserved to die for daring to thwart his efforts of completing a self set deadline. However said deadline, if breeched, would only cause him to honestly pay. Kisame did not have the money to pay for slaves, which he found were very convenient, a ship as well as the stock which fueled it. He had the money for forgery and a small bribe for the occasional mans favor. But that was all.
Kisame did not plan on sailing with an empty pocket or an empty sheathe; it was all he could do to keep from throttling the smug old man. "And I'd warn you to stay clear of rising my temper. Take your money boy and stow it away."
Her eyes followed his gaze, easily sliding to regard the blacksmith with contained loathing. It amazed Tenten at times the amont of emotion a simple look could contain, even while the rest of the body showed no outwards sign. Patience and control, others would call it. Years left to a stifling existence of social tradition, she would correct them. Both were very trivial matters in the grand scheme of things now that she was free of that burden. But still, the man's actions had been shameful, both to others of his profession and to his the people he was to represent. It would have been nothing less than what he deserved should the stranger find out the truth. But death was unnecessary, even for the misconduct of the blacksmith.
Locking on to the golden gleams of the stranger's eyes instead, she slid the coins towards him once more, insistent. "Then take it as payment for your troubles. I've no grand use for them and will not take the coins back."
For a moment longer, her eyes were fixed and unmoving, glinting with a resolve that even he could understand and perhaps respect in return. And then the moment was gone, ending with Tenten stepping away from the counter with a tap of her boot before he could contest it further.
Kisame wanted to contest it further, but such opportunity was stolen from the fray of the mildly stretched rope of tension, ending with him a few coins richer. He tapped the counter again and drew the forgers attention, certain to have his words across; and if he could not understand(which he doubted furiously) his body language and razor teeth certainly did.
Although the words had ended and the message had been translated over again, Kisame still could not fathom how neglectful such a man he was. It infuriated him, again, and then over once more; He should simply over come the barricade of the counter- which he was sure the defensive word fit for this select smith- and show him how truly rushed he was.
Kisame turned his attention to the young man aside, sitting down on the rickety bench outside, deciding to contain his anger meant removing himself from the current setting. Though it was only a few steps away; Only the lack of the rotton man made his breathing more fluoent and temperate, positively. "What's your name then, boy?" He asked, glancing over, noting the length of the garbed childs legs; the slim figure and pudgy and feminine complection beneath the helmet.
There was no mournful regret or apprehension about the loss of a few coins; Tenten really had no use for them in general. Supplies and rations for their trip was paid for with the money set aside from their discovered treasures and it was only on rare occasions that she felt the need to buy things for herself with the shares she had earned on such adventures (save for the more than occasional trip to bars and tea houses). The rest generally was kept out of sight and out of reach of the crew.
All thoughts on the matter disappeared however with the foreigner's question. She should have been prepared for it, had suspected it was coming. It was only a matter of time before he would ask for her name after all. Straightening up her back to add a little to her height, Tenten quickly replied with the first name that came to mind in answer to the stranger's question, one that would be easy to remember and respond to for the duration of their meeting.
"Tian," she replied easily and without falter, clearing her throat once more to clear out the awkward lump in her vocal chords, "And you are?"
Kisame pondered about answering 'Tian', whom he found having a strange name to his native dialect, however he wasn't sure if he would give it so freely- despite the payment, which was unrelated.
He gave the child a toothed grin, which came natural to him, and his still born sister(so it seemed, the small spook had been so even before birth); But neither his parents-both passed now- had that wicked grin, that shark like maw or the predatorial eyes; Even for someone born from a snide thief who wielded assassins and blood like it was wine.
Opening the cavern of razors, Kisame contemplated, words on the tip of his tongue before smirking. "Kisame." He said, offering the lad that much; His name was strangely native for these parts- or a close neighbor- despite origin. But it didn't matter. His name did nothing to reflect on him personally (seeing as how he lacked all languages but Danish, English and the minuscule level of Chinese; As lectured by the boy set in front of him, the berserk man had no idea what the Japanese definition listed). 'What's in a name?' was a moronic philosophers question.
Tenten's eyes narrowed just a fraction at Kisame's grin, seeming too cheerful to be genuine or true. She was very suspicious of such expressions. They had always made her believe that the owner was up to no good, which, considering the reputation that this foreigner had, might not have been too far off. It was no safe bet that he had even given her his true name, let alone held true intentions to go alone with that toothy grin.
However, he had not given Tenten any reason to distrust either. If anything, the situation and encounter would mark him as a victim, unintentional and unknowingly because of his limited knowledge of the region and the language. And so it was with that, that she gave Kisame a polite bow of her head in greeting. "It is good to meet you, Kisame-san."
Straightening up once more, she adjusted the armor. "And what brings you here to China?"
Kisame shrugged, once again thinking onto what his answer should be; He could easilly tell the child to push off for being nosy, but it was also delightful to him to think that a child would not be able to piece together what his true intentions were. Besides, all he was doing was "Gathering a ship and crew." before sailing, he would have repairs to his precious swords, and to them a guarantee of refinity, but seeing as how the forger was negligent; he would look to be sure that they would simply be held firmly into the hilt.
Shutting his eyes for a moment after answering her- or rather Him- he breathed in and out, settling his thoughts as though it was a labor. He turned to the short lad and gave him another once over, scrutiny in his stare; How could a boy so young but old enough to enter changes be with such wide hips and lengthy legs- It was terrifying for Kisame to think that there were boys being spawned into the world such as that. Pretty... all but teases to siren.
"And you?" Although he did not doubt that Tian's origin was China, he did think that he was not living here for a permanent basis. Who dressed in such armor when walking the streets on a daily basis?
Tenten tried her best to not fidget under his scrutiny, though could not stop the initial reaction to take a step back from his stare. A little distance would be good, more would be better. She supposed the looks and lingering glances that Kisame kept giving her were innocent. But they were enough to alarm the warning beacons in her head. Because the more he examined, the more he noted of her, the easier it would become for him to piece together her true identity.
Stepping around the foreigner, she began pacing around the length of the smithy once more, giving her idle thoughts something else to focus on as well as lessening a chance for Kisame to look closer at her boyish face. “Only to find a weapon worthy of wielding in battle.” To emphasize her reasoning, she lifted a heavily-gloved hand to examine another blade hanging on the far wall, looking almost interested. Deep down, Tenten wondered if she should still be doing business with such a moral-less blacksmith.
"You'd wear such bulky and warrior envious armor to a mear smith? What's your problem boy?" He chuckled, once noticing Tian's timidity of his wandering eyes. He was not so much perverse as would be thought with such a wide grin and flaming eyes; He was rather inverted, but it was always fun to play on the naive and innocent thoughts until they became morbid. Voicing one of his thoughts, he chuckled at the expression. "Are you afraid that some lord will find you attractive and bid you his bride? What a surprise on wedding night- HM?"
Again his native accent slipped out, chuckling once more. He found it more than amusing to see such a grotesquely feminine boy- but ventured no further to poke fun at the femininity.
"Or do you simply think that there would be enemies ready to thwart you at the instant entry of such a place?" Kisame had every right to think that Tian had never been to a smithing complex before. "Or... is it simply because you wanted to look tough? You do look like a fool for someone so young to be prancing about in such heavy and hot armor."
Kisame himself wore no armor, just the leather belt and straps that kept his nomadic shirt and pants together- boots before patched more often than nought. He would have to get a new pair before he left. And maybe a hat. He hated having such a dry crisp to his hair under such heat. It was deplorable- the chill from Denmark was always much nicer than the dust of China.
Kisame wasnt considering such a small 'man' to have anywhere important to go or fight with the lack of age under his belt. Kisame could be not too much older than the boy- maybe half a decade- but it was decent enough to know the waters with more experience.
He was poking fun at her expense, and gaining substantial ground with it as well to which Tenten could not help but frown even more at the notion. The implications with Kisame's tauntings could not be more true. There was no hiding the feminine charms of her face and legs. But that was not all uncommon among young men who were still growing into their skin. What mattered was that he could not see the curves of her chest hidden under the heavy leather and iron, the long waves of hair crammed into her helmet, or more importantly the lack of bulge in her pelvic region. There would be a lot of questions and a lot of explanations should those features be discovered.
Settling on a irritated tolerance for his mocking, she chose to simply ignore the emotions that came afterwards with a heavy sigh. To react in rage or denial would only give him what he wanted. And Tenten was not about to give this foreigner the satisfaction. "Believe what you will, good sir. I've a feeling nothing I say will change your opinion of me on the matter."
"My captain runs a tight schedule, and I will use every moment we are on land to get what I need. I've neither the time nor the patience to spare for impractical ideals such as changing my garments." She turned on the balls of her heels, continuing her slow strides along the angle of the wall. "One should not have to change for the sake of convenience."
"As for the armour, it's quite comfortable once you've grown accustomed to the weight." Hands clasped behind her back, Tenten carefully studied the various weapons hanging in the smith shop. They were plain, yet to be adorned with intricate designs unlike the collection that what the blacksmith had shown her previously when she had made the decision to place her order with him. But they had the potential to become so with a careful eye and a steady hand, a talent that the young woman lacked the resources for. On a wooden ship in the middle of the ocean, learning and maintaining the smithing arts was out of the question and an impossibility. "Wearing it for days on end out at sea have allotted that small advantage over my enemies."