time is never time enough

Then the fight began.

If the cloak of death had blanketed them like an icy fog, then the Akatsuki's poison felt like a scalpel, picking her apart bit by bit. Ino couldn't allow this fight to go on for long. She had to get help before she stopped breathing. Had to warn the others before the scorpion in their midst could sting anyone else.

"Higan...bana-san..."

Higanbana's hands were already weaving signs, so Ino gave up on words for the moment. Instead, she reached for that connection again, a hasty hand grabbing at the air, no time for finesse, because if this was going to work at all then it had to be now, while Ino's body still held out.

Genjutsu would have to do for now. Something to distract the kage bunshin, or throw off her aim. Hare, Dragon, Dog, Snake. As she felt the ground rumble, Ino wove her own signs as quickly as her stiff muscles would move. The warmth of their connection enveloped her again, only this time, something laced it, a prickling like static electricity.

If Higanbana could tell that Ino was in danger, if she had a plan for the Akatsuki in their midst, Ino couldn't find it.

Down the channel that linked their minds, Ino shoved a wordless message of danger directly behind Higanbana. The real threat wasn't the two shinobi before her (Ino would laugh at the irony if she could). No, whatever justsu Higanbana wove, it should strike stood behind her. That was her true mark.

Higanbana looked over her shoulder, but the movement—it was all wrong. Her head snapped to the side before returning to face them just as abruptly. When Higanbana dropped her arms, the movement there was also far too sudden. And didn't she already weave those hand signs?

Her jutsu was strong, even in this state, although it was certainly one of the only things that she could do - the limits of her body would be catching up to her fast, if the opponent before her did not. She, at the very least, had the sense to understand the immediacy of the threats, to catalogue them in order of priority and to determine that what was before her was where her focus should lie.

She did seem confused, though…

Both of them did, in fact, the young kunoichi gasping out the name of their proctor, though her eyes slid in and out of focus, as though chasing a figure in the fog - or a ghost, some mirage beyond the veil of her own genjutsu that she could not determine from reality.

A rough grunt. Everything needed to be a double-edged sword for them, didn't it. These Konoha nin could not be uncomplicated in their competence.

The sweeping motions of the woman shivered in response, as though her anticipation to recoil and retaliate were so immensely great that she had no recourse but to release the bunched tension in her body - but the jerky movements of her hand seals drew his attention to narrow focus, and he grunted, shifting Hiruko's bulk and weight to leap away from the ground.

Seals for an Earth jutsu - ?

But the shiver did not stop, entirely, her joints popping and tremoring out of sync with one another and with the movements of her breath - no longer a steady rhythm but one disjointed, connected to a heart that stuttered and fluttered, bird wings against a bear trap - and her whole body lifted, the loll of her head over her shoulder draping inky black hair in a curtain. The vibrations that Sasori had assumed were from her jutsu in preparation intensified in their volume, but he felt nothing under his feet -

It was her throat, not a croak, but an ululation, that she did not seem to be in control of.

At least Deidara had an ounce of sense to sup on. 

Sasori remained silent as he stepped through into the cave, feeling the sensation of its mystique prickle against the core of his chakra in his chest. He could, he thought, take solace in the knowledge that the fool boy Tobi would need to wait outside for as long as Sasori needed to investigate the workings of the cave - only one within, wasn't it? 

An eternity for the eternal. It was a pretty thought, and it was all that kept him going as the soles of his sandals crunched against the ground, taking in the gentle slope of cool cavern rock down in a spiral towards a glistening pool of the most turquoise water he had ever seen. 

Until the reverberations of Tobi's voice echoed around him, filling the space vibrantly, followed by the SLAM - !! of the door behind them. Where briefly its immensity was incalculable, now it became vividly claustrophobic. 

Sasori halted, turning his head to consider the man before him, part curiosity, mostly unbridled irritation – and he had to wonder: was this fool such a vacuum of chakra that the cave did not acknowledge him? 

It almost made up for the thought of being trapped together in here with him, with no known mechanism for escape. 

As though in emphasis, his head tilted, not a fluid motion, but a tic to one side, incremental and sharp. 

Whether a man tried or not had as little effect on the outcome as whether he wore black or blue, he found, if the inherent value was not there to begin with. He did not say this aloud, and instead of replying proper he made a humming noise that was as much mechanical whirr as it was something organic borne of thought. 

"I'll bet that your instructors told you to come here, didn't they? The heat makes for quite the punishment if you aren't prepared for it." 

He did not say, either, that proper chakra control would allow one to regulate their own heat, if needed. Too advanced a concept for someone who struggled staying upright and aloft, and too mundane to come from the mouth of one who had no need for such things any longer. 

When he finally did move, it was with steps that squelched rubber against slick stone path, skirting along the edge of the pool, circular to simultaneously make it feel that much larger and that much smaller. The ridge of Hiruko's tail, coiled beneath the cloak, scraped a delicate rhythm, and he released that same humming sound. 

It was not an ideal environment for him to be in, strictly. It was not as though Hiruko had not received the absolute best varnish and water repellant coating that he could manage to concoct, although the water seeping into the cracks and joints as it always would was annoying. He had treated his creations for the harsh wind and the brush of sands, to stand the test of time against the harshest aggressors that nature could offer.

But there was an appeal to a maelstrom of this calibre, and when he lifted his gaze to the heavy clouds that roiled and churned through the lash of rain, he lifted the tail to shield Hiruko's face and waited for the flash of light to streak across the sky.

There.

The crack of thunder that ripped through the air rumbled in his chest and stirred a chuckle for him as he navigated his way through the field, dragging the corpse along behind him.

Well, it had been a corpse. It had taken the careful work of stripping, draining, cleaning, reassembling until it looked even remotely presentable as something that could sit beside his art.

In truth, it was more of an experiment. Less a real piece that he cared to carry through to the end, and more a piece of scrap that he'd managed to find offhand, to test a theory that he'd never quite been able to.

The steps were soft, and if he were not so trained to be cautious - paranoid - Sasori might not have heard them, let alone acknowledged them with the sharp look over his shoulder.

Each step turned the crunch of gravel into the crack of glass until the air around them shattered, filament scattering through the high mountain sky and refracting the darkness around them in the pool of blood red lilies. Though Hiruko's body remained still, seemingly unruffled, the tail twitched and flicked this way and that for a moment as the footsteps approached them through the sea of dead flowers.

"Impress you."

The words were nearly spat as he turned, a grunt of disdain tearing from his throat. It was not a calculated and detached reaction that found his chakra channeling down his fingertips and to every inch of Hiruko, the strings moving his mechanisms from merely motion to martial clicking and whirring to life quietly - it was as close to a gut reaction as someone like Sasori could make.

Death to death.

Enough of this farce.

Whether the girl would choose to allow herself to die here would be to her discretion - the poison would find its rot seeping into her every nerve and fibre in its course, and when all this was done he would have a pair of golden Yamanaka dolls for his shelf.

By now, watching the cloak in front of her proved easier than navigating the terrain on her own. Ino did indeed plan to keep him in her sight for as long as her blurring vision held out.

None of the creatures Higanbana had mentioned had crossed their paths, and Higanbana herself had vanished at some point. Maybe surviving the trip to the summit with an Akatsuki member was part of Ino's test, then.

Liquid fire spreading from the cut on her abdomen. Another step forward.

The Akatsuki continues to trudge along, leaving her a trail of dust-clouded air and venomous words, words that Ino wished she had the breath to reply to. As that cloak drifted further and further out of sight, Ino took the anger she so desperately wanted to vent and sent it to her legs.

Dry mouth. Tingling in her fingertips. Another step forward.

If this uncanny creep was Ino's test, then she'd pass it, all right. She wasn't dying here. She refused to, not until she could show them exactly what she was made of.

And then the mountainside leveled out, sloping back down and out of sight. She'd made it. Ino drew the puzzle piece from her pocket and squeezed it tight as she took stock of the peak. The relief brings a new flush of anger with it, seizing her with the urge to hurl the puzzle piece at that tail with all her strength.

But no, not yet. Patience, like Higanbana said. She'd wait until the right moment, until she had enough strength to make her outrage count.

"Made it," she breathed. Then, louder, "You creep. Don't think I won't pay you back for this."

As if to slap the device away, she swung her arm, then abruptly stopped. No, the burn wasn't just her temper flaring or her ego protesting—the tiny cut to her torso seared worse than its size would suggest.

Like a scorpion, that tail carried toxin.

Ino couldn't heal herself, but she clapped a hand over the wound anyway, mind torn between taking stock of her symptoms, and following the conversation in front of her.

Akatsuki. Another word that hit home.

"Then, Higanbana-san..." Ino suppressed a shiver before continuing. "Why shouldn't we capture him right now?!"

Higanbana sighs in response. "Unfortunately little flower, certain rules prevent us from interfering unless its life and death." "Rrrrgh..." she wants to object so much stronger, but that's her superior (and her blood). "Then...! Then let me at least go and find the mountaintop on my own!" "If you wish to try you may, but do be warned Yamanaka Ino, all manner of creatures wander these forests at night." A raven overhead splits in two, a half going to each of you as if saying that whatever occurs from this moment on, the consequences are yours to bear.

Tightly, tightly, Ino clenched her fists—to suppress the spreading pain, to make sure it didn't show, to give herself a second to lament her two terrible options. She couldn't even tell what she'd been stuck with.

Sweat was already beading on her forehead, and the ache spreads with every breath, but the absolute last thing Ino wanted was to show it.

He was not concerned for time, of course, any more than he was concerned for whatever traps had been purported to be located along every path they might have taken. Sasori was of the cautious sort, being acquainted with traps himself, but the respect he paid for the traps lain along the mountain amounted to nearly the respect he displayed for the proctors, and he remained unbothered by their existence.

Even more amusing, then, that with his entire lack of careful step, not a single one had sprung.

Glancing over his shoulder, Sasori shook his head. Needing a familial relation to pass even the simplest of tasks was an embarrassing thing for a shinobi, and yet the Leaf seemed to function wholly on this type of nepotic caste.

"Slowing down again? The top is just within sight."

If she could even see that far ahead of her by this point.

The air would be thinning as well, something that a shinobi of the Sand would already have been used to if it was something he required, but a spoiled Konoha child would have little experience with the hardships of nature.

"I said I wasn't dying here with you." And she meant it, even as the strange clacking sets her teeth on edge. "But I'll die before I let that happen."

Through her whirling options and her hand inching toward her weapons, Ino has yet another question:I'm talking with a person, but is this a body that I'm looking at?

With a flutter of wings you notice how the conspiracy of Ravens begins to move almost strategically in a circle, as if blocking something from your sight before Higanbana appears with little flourish, a hand outstretched as her favourite raven comes to perch atop it, an explanation as to how she's been watching you for so long. She does not say anything yet, but you can see that her hair has recently been redyed raven black, as if trying to hide something she failed to previously

Ino's eyes flickered to confirm the woman's identity before fully drawing out a senbon.

"Higanbana-san. Would you mind not stepping in for a second?"

She nods her agreement, hands flashing through a flurry of handsigns in preparation

Then, to the one who'd just threatened her, she flicked the senbon. Not directly at him (her anger hasn't completely blinded her) but close enough to make his cloak flutter ever so slightly as the needle sinks into into a nearby tree.

"I'm not fighting you. I'm not stupid enough to do that. But you must be, to make that kind of threat in front of two people with Yamanaka blood."

He drew the appendage into a sway, the dance of a hooded cobra, to intimidate, to distract, to hypnotize – if she were as clever as she seemed to believe herself, she would rip her attention from the movement of it, to focus on the movements of its conductor underneath and to prepare herself as necessary for whatever the main body would do. 

But he knew that she was not half so clever as she needed to be, even to stay alive. 

WHAM - !! 

Regardless of where her gaze fell, or for how long, after the moment of tense silence that followed her words, echoed only by the continued rattling chuckle, the full weight of Hiruko's tail slammed down at an angle from her shoulder and chest to drop her to the ground. 

Sasori made no move to step in closer, and simply allowed the tail to continue its extension, the serpentine twine along the length of her body, where the glistening tip nicked and strayed against the exposed skin. 

"And one of them is worthless." He did not bother to glance at the other, the tip of Hiruko's tail hovering against the girl's cheek almost thoughtfully. Hiruko's eyes widened for a moment, more a threat display than narrowing by degrees, and the silence of the forest echoed around them for a long moment. 

Then, the tail wrapped itself around the girl's hips and forcibly dragged her back to standing, before swaying back to its position, coiled and retracted within his shell. 

His forward momentum continued, shuffling gait against the scattered detritus of the forest floor. Here, he allowed his gaze to rest upon the lady who fancied herself death, and his voice lowered in pitch, a grating rumble that held a promise. 

There are boons to birthrite, the mind arts of a Yamanaka can only be overcome with the mind arts of another. So as you focus, the mirror shatters once again allowing you to look properly around the cavern, while you are unable to move beyond the circle of spider lilies that surround you. You notice that Higanbana has left her position and now stands close to you, without the mask and the harps you're able to properly focus on her. And it is through that focus that you understand the reason she was able to use Nara Arts despite the lack of almost commonplace black hair. "You shouldn't be awake little Heiress~ Training the mind is important for all of us after all." The way she says it is familial almost, and yet you notice a fox almost sneakily coming to rest against your legs. "Patience Ino, all will be revealed soon enough~" Yet as the dream calls you once more, you notice her dress is replaced with a sleeveless vest, a noticeable mark on her right shoulder, denoting her as ANBU, current or former you cannot tell.

Who is that woman to Ino and Shikamaru?

In reality (or so Ino believed) a raven swooped in close to to adorn Ino with one of those eerily beautiful symbols of death. As if determined to leave her not a single good moment, the hulking shinobi strikes it down. Which begged another question, as she watched the bird fall: just how low would they go?

Biting down her anger, Ino took in a deep, deep breath. The sharp scent of leaves and earth pricked her nose and filled her lungs. Making the Tiger sign, squeezing her hands tight, Ino felt for that connection between herself and...Higanbana, right? At the same time, Ino couldn't stop walking, or she'd be completely left behind.

The connection welled up to meet her, reminding Ino of her father, of the days he'd let her practice her fledgling arts on his own mind. Higanbana's walls are much the same, gently repelling Ino's touch without rejecting her.

While you feel yourself connect with her mind, while the connection is warm you can feel her amusement at you trying to figure out what the object is as she gentle guides you away. For a moment you catch a glimpse of something that amused her, the image of what looks like an Uchiha and is DEFINITELY Neji covered in glitter. "Nice try little flower~" Higanbana does not close off the connection, yet you can feel the walls come up, as if telling you to try harder if you want to get ahead. After all, flower seeds are fluid, they flow with the wind.

Ino's own sputtery, startled half-laugh caused her to break her own concentration. She wanted to hear more from Higanbana, all the more given her only other choice of company. That deep, rumbling voice only seemed to speak up for the cruelest reasons.

While it was clear that this arena was built for the children to stumble about in, buffeted about by padded guard rails to guide them along the path to launch them forward into real danger without any of the experience to harden them, there was something else here that was keeping the girl not merely safe, but protected. 

His eyes narrowed in amusement as she floundered about, the need for connection driving her forward so much as to overwrite her own caution in the real world surroundings - and what connection was it that she sought, that was being proffered with such indelicacy? 

A raven appears to replace the once you so rudely dispersed earlier, flying back and forth in an irregular pattern with a hint of almost... annoyance, yet she does not speak. Merely watching, waiting to see how you respond to the question posed to you by the young Heiress. 

The chuckle turned darker then, a click, a rattling sound from the hollow of Hiruko's throat, and here he did halt his forward progression, turning on the girl abruptly in a manner that would find her tripping over herself to avoid colision. 

"'Counter'?" The clicking rattle sound again, Hiruko's apertures widening in time with his eyes, pinning and dilating, beady and exaggerated at once. He took a step closer to her, and the tail swayed behind him. "You need even the most basic things explained to you, don't you? A waste of such a jutsu, on a mind like that." 

Another step, the brush crunching like glass underfoot. 

"I didn't want to counter it, child. I want to take it." 

It was here, perhaps, that he might have emphasized her situation – the foolishness of so blindly following someone so dangerous into an expanse of alien emptiness, knowing that she could not physically overpower him, and then to prod at him following the revelation that if she were to scream, none would hear it. 

It didn't give them the right to talk to her with such disdain, like she was a stain on their cloak. Ino had much more of a reason to feel disgusted, stuck with someone who'd toy with innocent lives.

"Oh-kay," she scoffed, dropping the fabric, her fingers brushing up against a cold and rigid something. She'd intended for it to be as cutting as his own words, but taking in their new surroundings lessened the bite, and then her only possible ally was already leaving.

"I'm coming, already!" She yelled at that receding, shambling back.

Only...her feet won't move. They won't listen to her. Dread prickling over her skin again, Ino looked down to make sense of it all, finding the familiar sight of two shadows merged.

"Shikama-" the name came out of her mouth on instinct, cut off by the sight that didn't fit the name: one of the proctors, slipping away into the woods, returning Ino's body to her.

"I am not dying here with you," she muttered darkly, stomped after him. As much as she wished to talk about what had just happened, the only pair of ears around clearly didn't care to listen. "And I'm not following you either. I'm only keeping an eye on you until we find Kakashi-sensei and the oth-. Wait."

Well, if she was so determined to die on her own.

Sasori's steps continued forward at the same clip as they had before, unbothered by the way the world around them nearly tremored, something he could only interpret as a childish tantrum from the figure who had wanted his attention so badly, and had not received it. True to his word, he did not look back when he noticed that the girl had halted, despite understanding that it was due to duress of some kind, the panic that welled in her voice as she called out.

"Wait," he mocked in a gruff falsetto, the body language of Hiruko implacable and disinterested in her - no, his attention was at the rustle of the brush nearby, the caw of the bird as it emerged, an omen of death in its own right casting a pall over their trail and arcing downward toward the girl.

The senbon had launched from Hiruko's left arm, tracing after the bird to hear its indignation in harmony with the chuckle that he let out.

As something flies out from underneath the Akatsuki cloak, you suddenly hear the sound of glass shattering. For a moment the entire world seems to shift...

Both of you are frozen in place as the forest around you crumbles away for a moment, placing you in a well lit cavern. It gives you enough time to look around, letting you see the six other teams positioned almost as a clock, each pair surrounded by a sea of vibrant red Spider Lilies. At the center of the clock you spot the proctors... and the missing jounin positioned in a pentagonal space with two spots empty before the cords of the harp echo loudly, reverting the world to the way it was previously. You cannot help but wonder which is real, and which is the illusion...

The laughter grew in volume but did not quite fringe on boisterous, and over the scrap of cloth covering Hiruko's mouth, his eyes took on a wider cast, flicking over the surroundings in contemplative silence beneath the amusement.

They were all of them acquainted with death, in their own manner experts in her call, but Sasori suspected that none of those gathered quite understood what dying felt like. The drain of color, the drop of sound as the dark began to blur about the edges, and the instant he understood that it was the only sensation that was available in this gathering before the treeline he stiffened, his gaze seeking out the cause of it with a flutter for the container in his chest. 

Then the world shifted, not quite a tilt but a displacement – nothing so dramatic as this idiot girl was pretending that it was as her feet slipped from beneath her and her arms on instinct reached out for the nearest point of stability. 

Perhaps there was something to be said that he was the only immovable in the face of death, but after the long beat of silence after the world settled, all he said as he fixed his furious gaze upon her was, "Let go." 

Two words, with inimitable tone and intention behind them, shimmering incandescent with indignation, irritation, impatience. 

She would right herself and take her time about it, as these Konoha nin did whenever there wasn't someone there to hold their hand, and he had done his share of that with their own leader, hadn't he? His nose wrinkled beneath Hiruko's façade, but he busied himself with the reconnaissance of the area they found themselves in, damp and forested and chillingly quiet. 

It didn't take a genius to know that there would be danger awaiting them underfoot – but if there was a single thing these people could do that would threaten him, he would be surprised. 

A feminine voice echoes from your shadow, sounding impressed, yet the impressed nature sounds like it is almost hard to earn. "Oh? An Akatsuki member? I'm intrigued you entered the village and yet... there is no need for death to embrace you yet." 

The expression under Hiruko's face intensified, and he responded to the voice with a disgusted silence, a dismissal stemming entirely of disrespect as he continued the gentle trudge forward into the forest. 

he is the strongest after all, the most deserving -

he lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding. ducked behind the doors like this, the moment he notices any movement, he will strike. temari's steps have gotten louder as has her breath.

they need to get out.

A tile seemed quite loose; they were both small enough that they could fit through it, should they need to. With a step, she stood on top of one of the desks, balancing on the tip of her toes, as she pushed the tile off the ceiling.

Dust fell away in a cloud, filling her lungs and dusting her hair and clothes. Barely, she choked back a cough, eyes stinging. This was their way out.

She felt eyes boring into her. She looked at the door and saw them, the eyes of a stray cat in an alleyway.

"And what's this in my pocket?" he cooed into the microphone, voice rattling and unmelodic, a scrape against their ears in tandem with Hiruko's dull fingertips against the door as his own hand dug out the key that he had found, stolen from the cloaks in the instructor's lounge.

"A key to unlock any door? Suppose we will find out. Or maybe it will lock-down whatever-is-in-there-"

Faint knocks, a beat at a time with each of his words, until the distinct click of the key in the door punctuated the sentence for them. The implication was clear - now what will you do?

Sasori hummed, a faint little mocking sound as he turned on his heel and moved along the hall to the north, tail clattering against the hall in an echoing loop with every step, until the form of him and the raucous noise simmered out into silence, the oppressiveness of absence.

what is worse than being followed is when suddenly, you aren't. the proctor's footsteps can still be faintly heard outside of the classroom, but gaara has lost track of their third.

the pencil handed to him is held within tiny pinpricks of sand and he dares not face temari in the moment as he contemplates their next move.

isn't he being a little childish? the kazekage should not be faltering this much. "to draw less attention, we need to split up."

The mice we trying to wait him out. It spiked his irritation to an intense degree as he clambered back into Hiruko, felt the security of the fitted plates of its construction wrap around him and the way the world altered through the doll's eyes, pinning the aperture until he was pleased with the amount of moonlight it let in. The scroll in his sleeve still spilled that jutsu from its edges, though the inconvenience it had offered him was minimal at this point.

Would they prefer to die in here, then?

If they would not be the sort of shinobi that their village trained in propriety - power and resilience in all things, intelligence through any situation, not the sort of rank cowardice these children were displaying, the fear that their precious Kazekage-sama had shimmered with at the mere sound of his voice - then he would put them out of their misery.

Hiruko's bulk shimmied out of the trapdoor, tail flicking the door itself upward for a rankling clank and allowing gravity to slam it shut behind him. He coughed once or twice into the microphone, and narrowed his eyes.

"Eenie, meenie, minie…"

Mo.

His gaze settled on the door to his left, toward the east.

Gaara didn't finish his thought, but Temari could assume how the sentence would end. It was strange to have this Gaara, the one who cared about others, rather than the one who cared only for himself.

Had this village really changed Gaara this much? Temari couldn't quite understand it, but she was grateful to whatever had given Gaara life in his heart.

A screech filled her ears. She doubted it was the proctor, then what? Was there a threat undisclosed to them? That would be part of the exam, yes - nin weren't always fully prepared for a mission. It was up to her and Gaara to figure it out.

Something scraped along the floorboards.

Whatever was going on, they had no allies in this. It would always be only Temari and Gaara.

He noted the dimensions for later. Enough for two.

Sasori made no efforts to mask the rattle and creak of the handle, the hinges, the panels of wood as he tugged it open and allowed it to drop softly against the floor after he stepped within.

It might have been used for anything. For something defensible, in the event of emergency, of invasion or natural disaster, things Konoha told its students never to be frightened of, and yet had happened time and again to its people, a land so fecund to be dominated that it was nearly begging.

What he used it for, in those moments, were to clamber out from Hiruko, momentarily, to tinker with the joints of his favorite puppet, to meticulously oil and lubricate the junctures that allowed for silent movement, and those that could be emphasized for greater projection. He checked for flaw and for fault, and when he had satisfied himself, he nearly climbed back in, if not for the sound of footsteps nearby.

His eyes stilled, and the corners of his lips rose in a taut grin.

That proctor woman. Alone, tromping through the halls as though there were nothing for her to be worried for, as though this building had in any way belonged to her the moment after he had come to.

His fingers flexed, reached, upward, outward, his eyes and Hiruko's flat, slack-jawed expressions the only other things peeking from the hole in the floor.

So far, her concentration has been unspoiled. Focused. Ready. But whatever she's been prepared for hasn't shown itself. So for one brief moment, she allows herself to pretend she's on nothing more than a nighttime stroll. That she has the building all to herself. Then again, if that were true, she wouldn't need to focus so hard, right? The contradiction makes her laugh - and then choke, as one (two?) of her charges get far closer than any of the others have dared. That's why she reaches for her hip pouch. It's only because of the sudden show of daring. Nothing more. Honest. For a second, the walls, the doors - they all flicker with something like moonlight. Her once rigid posture is now hunched defensively, and though her eyes are covered, you can tell she's cycling through a few different emotions: alarm, realization, then embarrassment at letting these kids get to her at all. "You little..." she starts to grumble. Then, straightening, she collects herself. "I knew I shouldn't have agreed to this," she sighs. Then, turning her back, she resumes her walk.

letting it out of his sight isn't exactly what he'd like but between the steadily approaching steps and staying in this place watching two forces he was meant to do nothing to...

he looks down the hallway and the staircase seems promising. if not the ground floor then at least lower. there is no way it -

his thoughts stop. walking and thinking of how impossible it would be to remain on the same floor, even to go up a floor only for the reality of it to come to pass is frustrating. a small grunt leaves him and he tries once more.

the result is the same. so now he must go back?

temari isn't far behind but should they really be this bunched up to begin with. last time he had...

he needs her, most certainly. "we shouldn't split off. if we can escape withou-"

would naruto do that?

Serrated steel ground along polished wood floor, not merely gouging indentations, but scraping, screeching, echoing from one space into the next, clattering behind him as Sasori moved through the space and filled it with more than Hiruko's bulk.

The proctor had already moved on, her route constant if not circuitous - she had not traced enough of the space for him to make a complete map of her movements, but her gait remained at a consistent clip - and he took the opportunity while she was absent to familiarize himself with whatever was nearby.

Following the mice would do him no good - they would simply keep pace ahead of him. It was the intelligent predator that moved ahead, and cut off egress.

Lifting his tail from the ground as he continued, Sasori dragged it along the panels on the wall, allowing the clatter of it to echo behind him until he reached a juncture, softly shuffling through the opening and quietly settling himself within to glance around.

He could not help the laugh that escaped him at the sight of the wooden trapdoor on the ground, Hiruko's tail swaying delicately behind him.