Shen had found her that night, a few miles away off from the Kinkou hideout. Her skin was pale then, paler than usual with eyes that drooped, breaths that were short, body bruised and bloody. She did not remember much that night other than strong arms picking her gingerly off the muddy forest ground and noting a somewhat concerned spark pass momentarily through the glowing irises.
It took almost two weeks for Akali to fully recover. Bed-ridden, she refused to speak no matter how many times Shen would enter her quarters, seating himself cross-legged beside her futon where she would sit as well, never laying down. Her amber eyes would always be downcast, as if replaying a horrible memory over and over, trying to analyse, to understand, to see what she had misunderstood that night. Not once did she speak to him, or anyone else. So Shen would sit there silently, never speaking either until his duties called to him.
Seeing the man she used to train under once more, the man who had tortured and tormented her so, the kunoichi remained on the defensive as opposed to the offensive as she had done many, many months ago. Amber eyes were apprehensive, the spark of caution flickering as fingers gingerly rested upon the wrapped hilts of her weapons upon her sides. She knew of his capability and his speed, she would rather not incite any violence from him, at least, until she felt confident enough to take him on once more.
She, however, laughed at his response, a laugh that was carefree and amused, easily hiding the bitter truth behind his word, or at least, part of it. “Your assumptions are amusing. You could not be any more wrong than you are now. Who are you to speak of the nature of our ranks when you have no idea where we even are. Hilarious,” she mocked in return.
Akali was not looking for a fight. She was almost sorry she had even crossed paths with him. She was, in fact, quite a ways away from the Order of Shadows, neither was she close to the Kinkou, which had her feeling relieved. Unfortunately, that meant that help would not be available to her as it did the last time they had met. And pride would not allow her to retreat. So instead, she casually started pacing, circling the Master of Shadows, trying to appear somewhat intimidating and in control.
The voices of vengeance were tugging upon her chest, telling her to strike, yet the voice of reason was tugging upon the strands of her being to flee.
She could almost feel the murderous aura radiating from the man before her.