“Again?” Shikako says, stepping out from the shadowed cover of the ship, “You don’t get hazard pay for starting a fight with a bunch of civilians.”
Kiba’s hackles don’t quite rise–never against her, not after what they’ve been through–but he does scowl something fierce, “It’s my shore leave, cap'n, I can spend it how I want.”
Akamaru, the traitor, wags his tail at the sight of her, whining a plaintive request to stop this whole disaster in the making.
“And what are you doing bringing Akamaru?” she asks, crouching down to scrub at his ears, “They don’t serve ninken on this rock, and it’s not fair to make him clean up your mess when he can’t even have fun, too.”
Akamaru barks an agreement.
“Get on back inside,” she says to him, head jerking toward the gangway, “I’ll deal with this idiot.”
He goes, claws clacking against the metal of the ramp as he heads back inside the ship.
Shikako stands up, meeting Kiba’s eyes in a familiar way that almost makes him want to bare his throat, “I’m not here to lecture you.”
“Sure feels like it.”
She rolls her eyes, “Come on,” she says, walking away, the tails of her long brown coat flapping behind her, “let’s get drunk and fight some Rooters.”
There’s a difference between being a part of Konoha and being a Rooter: the first is like a pair of shoes, too tight and constantly chafing, blisters forming, and yet unable to take them off.
The second is a knife to the back.
They’re not the same, and of course the latter is far worse, but it’s terribly easy to stab someone if they can’t run away, isn’t it?
On the bucket of bolts that is their ship, there are the following:
Two “reformed” brown coats whose ferry and delivery service may or may not include smuggling contraband.
Two mercenaries for hire who have never so much as killed a single person between them and have accidentally inspired, on more than one occasion, cult followings about their heroic deeds.
One mechanic from a far off moon who swears that no matter how talented she is, the ship is going to crash without a replacement grav unit, she means it this time.
One Organization member who rents the starboard shuttle and might be a high class escort or possibly an assassin, the jury’s still out on that one.
One Teacher of the Will of Fire who knows a suspicious amount about the inner workings of Konoha and is far more connected than a man who has given up his last name should be.
And one ninken who is way too skilled at opening locked doors, that food’s not for you, damnit Akamaru, spit it out.
On a somewhat fairly routine smuggle and ferry, their number goes up by two.
The four core planets of Konoha were Aburame, Akimichi, Hyuuga, and Uchiha.
During the Uprooting, the planet of Uchiha was destroyed, the blame pinned on the rebellion.
Whether they believed it or not, the tragedy galvanized the other three core planets into putting their full power behind bringing a swift end to the war…
… and Root, the jingoist half of what remains of the Senju Administration, filled the gap of the fourth power in Konoha.
“Go get me some passengers,” Shikako commands, waving an imperious hand out towards the town they’ve landed near. It’d be more impressive if she weren’t curled over face down on the table, awkwardly trying to eat porridge without lifting her head.
Regardless, it’s not exactly a new or surprising sight, not after the years of being her XO and the year before that of being her lieutenant. Still funny as hell, but not unexpected.
“Aye, aye, cap'n,” Kiba shoots back, not moving from his seat whatsoever. Akamaru huffs a doggy laugh, nosing upward for some rehydrated meat substance.
“I have to get some parts,” TenTen says, ignoring their captain’s disgraceful posture and petulant groaning, “I think I can make do with the current rotator belt, but the grav unit won’t survive another atmo crossing, captain.”
“And I’m running low on duct tape,” TenTen adds, which, apparently, makes the request of vital importance: the credits are dispensed immediately.
“Lee, go with her. Now everyone leave me alone, I’m trying to eat.”
Four hours later, Naruto returns with a small herd of passengers practically throwing money at him–thankfully, after Kiba already stowed the contraband away, otherwise that’d be a disaster–and Lee and TenTen return with a different grav unit, a crate of duct tape, and a suspiciously posh looking man with suspiciously large luggage looking for a quick and discrete way off the planet who is willing to pay five times the rate. Suspiciously.
“We need the money,” Shikako mutters.
“I’m not saying we don’t,” Kiba argues, “I’m just saying that we definitely don’t need the trouble that comes with it.”
“Oh, now you’re worried about trouble?” she asks, a sardonic eyebrow raised.
“This is a different kind of trouble,” he says, nose wrinkling, “I can smell it.”
“How bad can it be?”
The daughter of the chancellor of the planet Hyuuga is missing.
Kidnapped, all official reports say.
It is a very bad kind of trouble.
A/N: Presenting the brand new ‘verse, Never Lookin’ To Come Back, a FireflyxDoS fusion featuring a Kiba/Shikako relationship that can be romantic or platonic–it’s up to the readers to decide for themselves.
So… the ratio of Kiba/Shikako to worldbuilding perhaps wasn’t the highest it could have been, but I got carried away with trying to adapt the Firefly ‘verse into a fusion with DoS. Which I think is totally an acceptable excuse?