#can you believe they made a closer by nin for women?

[roley-poley-foley]

Good news: Closer by Nine Inch Nails by Halocene

[luthienne]

Hi dear, do you have any good words on emotional courage?

hi my love, you can check out this post and this post; here are a few more:

“I know a lot about pain… and I know it is bad for people, eats away the spirit, but how about courage, what is it for if not to use when needed?”

Martha Gellhorn, Selected Letters 

“This is in the end the only kind of courage that is required of us: the courage to face the strangest, most unusual, most inexplicable experiences that can meet us.”

Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet 

“You don’t realize it, perhaps, but you are turning these delusions and illusions of the past into criminal things. Relinquish everything. Stay in bed until you feel so shock full of energy, hope, courage that you bounce out of abed. You can only aid the world–if you still believe the world needs our individual aid–by retaining your faith in life. Your body may be weak, but I know you still have wings.”

Henry Miller, A Literate Passion: Letters of Anaïs Nin and Henry Miller

“I… want to inherit the witch in my women ancestors—the willfulness, the passion, ay, the passion where all good art comes from as women, the perseverance, the survivor skills, the courage, the strength of las mujeres bravas, peleoneras, necias, berrrinchudas. I want to be una brava, una peleonera, necia, nerrinchuda. I want to be bad if bad means I must go against society—el Papá, el Pápa, the boyfriend, lover, husband, girlfriend, comadres—and listen to my own heart, that incredible witch’s broom that will take me where I need to go.”

Sandra Cisneros, A House of My Own

“I wanted you to see what real courage is, instead of getting the idea that courage is a man with a gun in his hand. It’s when you know you’re licked before you begin, but you begin anyway and see it through no matter what.”

Harper Lee, To Kill a Mockingbird

“Many people seem to think it foolish, even superstitious, to believe that the world could still change for the better. And it is true that in winter it is sometimes so bitingly cold that one is tempted to say, ‘What do I care if there is a summer; its warmth is no help to me now.’ Yes, evil often seems to surpass good. But then, in spite of us, and without our permission, there comes at last an end to the bitter frosts. One morning the wind turns, and there is a thaw. And so I must still have hope.”

Vincent van Gogh, The Letters of Vincent van Gogh

“In the winter I am writing about, there was much darkness. Darkness of nature, darkness of event, darkness of the spirit. The sprawling darkness of not knowing. We speak of the light of reason. I would speak here of the darkness of the world, and the light of———. But I don’t know what to call it. Maybe hope. Maybe faith, but not a shaped faith—only, say, a gesture, or a continuum of gestures. But probably it is closer to hope, that is more active, and far messier than faith must be. Faith, as I imagine it, is tensile, and cool, and has no need of words. Hope, I know is a fighter and a screamer.”

Mary Oliver, Winter Hours: Prose, Poems, and Prose Poems

“There is always some miracle left; and though miracles do not happen, they might happen. Who knows? Perhaps our intelligence, our instinct, our senses, in spite of their daylight clearness, are leading us astray. Perhaps the one thing needful is just that unreasoning courage which follows hope’s will-o’-the-wisp as it burns…”

Jens Peter Jacobsen, Niels Lyhne

“But if the deepest loss, […] / can be, not just survived, but made into the matter / of hope, made into song, not into a hatchet / to cut off the offending parts, made into poems / then blessed be the end of things, the loss of whatever / secures us blindly and mutely to our lives.”

Julia Alvarez, The Other Side/El Otro Lado

“I run / stumbling, expectant. / Impatience is hopelessly / desperate. Hope / takes time.”

Marie Ponsot, Springing: New and Selected Poems

“How lightly we learn to hold hope, / as if it were an animal that could turn around / and bite your hand. And still we carry it / the way a mother would, carefully, / from one day to the next.”

Danusha Laméris, The Moons of August

“Do not get lost in a sea of despair. Be hopeful, be optimistic. Our struggle is not the struggle of a day, a week, a month, or a year, it is the struggle of a lifetime. Never, ever be afraid to make some noise and get in good trouble, necessary trouble.”

Representative John Lewis

“Where does such a force come from? What does it mean? A voice very faint, and inside me, offers a possibility: how shall there be redemption and resurrection unless there has been a great sorrow? And isn’t struggle and rising the real work of our lives?”

Mary Oliver, Winter Hours: Prose, Poems, and Prose Poems

“Don’t forget that apparent impossibility of something is the first sign of its naturalness—in a different world, obviously.

Marina Tsvetaeva, from a letter to Anatoly Steiger

“Grieve. Have / hope.”

Jorie Graham, Swarm

John Berryman, “The Heart is Strange”

“Skin had hope, that what’s skin does. / Heals over the scarred place, makes a road.”

Naomi Shihab Nye, “Two Countries”

“I am quite troubled in the depths of my soul. But that will pass,”

George Sand, in a letter to Gustave Flaubert

“Let’s dance a little before we go home to hell.”

Muriel Rukeyser, A Muriel Rukeyser Reader

Hélène Cixous, Hyperdream (tr. Beverly Bie Brahic)

“That most moments were substantially the same did not detract at all from the possibility that the next moment might be utterly different.”

Marilynne Robinson, Housekeeping

Ada Limón, “Dead Stars”

“Listen, everyone has a chance. Is it spring, is it morning? Are there trees near you, and does your own soul need comforting? Quick, then — open the door and fly on your heavy feet…”

Mary Oliver, New and Selected Poems

“Get to the bottom of this intensity and have faith in what is most horrible, instead of fighting it off—it reveals itself for those who can trust it, in spite of its overwhelming and dire appearance, as a kind of initiation. By way of loss, by way of such vast and immeasurable experiences of loss, we are quite powerfully introduced to the whole.”

Rainer Maria Rilke, from a letter to Countess Alexandrine Schwerin, June 16, 1922

“…only one thing is urgently needed: to attach oneself with unconditional purpose somewhere to nature, to what is strong, striving and bright, and to move forward without guile, even if that means in the least important, daily matters. Each time we tackle something with joy, each time we open our eyes toward a yet untouched distance we transform not only this and the next moment, but we also rearrange and gradually assimilate the past inside of us.”

Rainer Maria Rilke, from a letter to Adelheid von der Marwitz, September 11, 1919

“Continue to believe that with your feeling and with your work you take part in what is the greatest. The more strongly you cultivate this belief inside of you, the more it will give rise to reality and world.”

Rainer Maria Rilke, from a letter to Elisabeth Freiin Schenk zu Schweinsberg, September 23, 1908

“…I have known with certainty that the worst things, and even despair, are only a kind of abundance and an onslaught of existence that one decision of the heart could turn into its opposite. Where things become truly difficult and unbearable, we find ourselves in a place already very close to its transformation.”

Rainer Maria Rilke, from a letter to Anita Forrer, February 14, 1920

“…he says, it will be all right.

“It is not the saying of an oracle or a prophet. They are words you might speak to a child ... and somehow I am comforted. He does not mean that it does not hurt. He does not mean that we are not frightened. Only that: we are here. This is what it means to swim in the tide, to walk the earth and feel it touch your feet. This is what it means to be alive.”

Madeline Miller, Circe

“Right then she knows herself even less than she knows the sea. Her courage comes from not knowing herself, but going ahead nevertheless. Not knowing yourself is inevitable, and not knowing yourself demands courage.

Clarice Lispector, Complete Stories; “The Waters of the World”

“Recovery (which includes return and renewal of health) is a re-gaining—regaining of a clear view. I do not say “seeing things as they are” and involve myself with the philosophers, though I might venture to say “seeing things as we are (or were) meant to see them”—as things apart from ourselves. We need, in any case, to clean our windows; so that the things seen clearly may be freed from the drab blur of triteness or familiarity—from possessiveness. Of all faces those of our familiares are the ones both most difficult to play fantastic tricks with, and most difficult really to see with fresh attention, perceiving their likeness and unlikeness: that they are faces, and yet unique faces.”

J.R.R. Tolkien, from his essay On Fairy-Stories

Camille Norton, Corruption: Poems

“Keep busy with survival. Imitate the trees. Learn to lose in order to recover, and remember that nothing stays the same for long, not even pain, psychic pain. Sit it out. Let it all pass. Let it go.”

May Sarton, Journal of a Solitude

“I have the fervour of myself for a presence / and my own spirit for light; / and my spirit with its loss / knows this; though small against the black, / small against the formless rocks, / hell must break before I am lost;”

H.D. from Collected Poems; “Eurydice”

Denise Levertov, “Epilogue”

“The days go numb, the wind / sucks the world from your senses like withered leaves. // Through the empty branches the sky remains. / It is what you have. / Be earth now, and evensong. / Be the ground lying under that sky. / Be modest now, like a thing / ripened until it is real…”

Rainer Maria Rilke, from Rilke’s Book of Hours (tr. Anita Barrows, Joanna Macy)

“I know your sorrow and I know that for the likes of us there is not ease for the heart to be had from words of reason and that in the very assurance of sorrow’s fading there is more sorrow. So I offer you only my deeply affectionate and compassionate thoughts and wish for you only that the strange thing may never fail you, whatever it is, that gives us the strength to live on and on with our wounds.”

Samuel Beckett’s words of consolation to his friend, Alan Schneider

“What matters is not to allow my whole life to be dominated by what is going on inside me. That has to be kept subordinate one way or another. What I mean is: one must not let oneself be completely disabled by just one thing, however bad; don’t let it impede the great stream of life that flows through you. I have the feeling of something secret deep inside me that no one knows about.”

Etty Hillesum, from a diary entry featured in An Interrupted Life

“You have been told that, even like a chain, you are as weak as your weakest link. / This is but half the truth. You are also as strong as your strongest link. / To measure you by your smallest deed is to reckon the power of the ocean by the frailty of its foam. / To judge you by your failures is to cast blame upon the seasons for their inconstancy.”

Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet

“Try to keep what is beautiful to you and what you can use for today and now — You must not let things you cannot help destroy you —”

Georgia O’Keeffe, from Georgia O’Keeffe: Art and Letters

“What we love, shapely and pure, / is not to be held, / but to be believed in.”

Mary Oliver, from Evidence; “Swans”

“In time of the crises of the spirit, we are aware of all our need, our need for each other and our need for ourselves. We call up, with all the strength of summoning we have, our fullness. And then we turn; for it is a turning that we have prepared; and act. The time of turning may be very long. It may hardly exist.”

Muriel Rukeyser, from A Muriel Rukeyser Reader, “The Life of Poetry”

“To be hopeful in bad times is not just foolishly romantic. It is based on the fact that human history is a history not only of cruelty, but also of compassion, sacrifice, courage, kindness. What we choose to emphasize in this complex history will determine our lives. If we see only the worst, it destroys our capacity to do something. If we remember those times and places—and there are so many—where people have behaved magnificently, this gives us the energy to act, and at least the possibility of sending this spinning top of a world in a different direction. And if we do act, in however small a way, we don’t have to wait for some grand utopian future. The future is an infinite succession of presents, and to live now as we think human beings should live, in defiance of all that is bad around us, is itself a marvelous victory.” 

Howard Zinn, A Power Governments Cannot Suppress

“But don’t lose heart, dear ones—don’t lose heart. Don’t let it make you bitter. Try to understand. Try to understand. The world’s already bitter enough, we got to try to be better than the world.”

James Baldwin, from Another Country

“You do not have to be good. / You do not have to walk on your knees / for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting. / You only have to let the soft animal of your body / love what it loves. / Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine. / Meanwhile, the world goes on.”

Mary Oliver, “Wild Geese”

[ladykissingfish]

Under the Mistletoe with the Akatsuki // Part Eight // Kakuzu

What is with this group and wasting their free time doing such inane and pointless things? The old guy can think of at least 50 other activities (the majority of which involve making money) that everyone could be doing, rather than lining up to kiss each under a little green plant. When it’s his turn in the spotlight, he tries as hard as he can to back out of his “obligation” ... but Pein (and Kakuzu’s own persistent partner, Hidan) insist that Kakuzu participate. Kakuzu sighs and nods; he’s smart enough to know when he’s been defeated. However, Pein should know that Kakuzu will be adding a little extra money to his paycheck that week, for “hazard pay”.

Pein

Nagato was more interested in Kakuzu joining his group than any of the others. Immortality, money-sense, expertise and wisdom ... this is the man who survived the wars of the past. This is the man who survived the mighty Hashirama, God of all shinobi. Still, Nagato is no fool; he realizes that Kakuzu’s number one priority in life isn’t the Akatsuki, but money. Kakuzu would probably (and had likely thought about) betray them all in exchange for a tidy sum. So Nagato (as Pein) works to keep Kakuzu content enough to remain loyal, including making him the group’s treasurer and giving him complete control over everyone’s finances. And Kakuzu remains highly useful; strategizing, completing missions twice as fast (and ten times as efficient) as his younger teammates. Pein approaches Kakuzu and gives him a light kiss on the forehead, before returning to his room. He reminds himself to speak to Kakuzu later; he has some ideas about weapons he’d like to procure for the group, and needs to see if it would be financially feasible to do so.

Konan

Kakuzu genuinely likes Konan, and appreciates her company. Many men of Kakuzu’s generation were raised on the belief system that women were solely meant to be wives, child-bearers, and home-makers; to call a female a ninja was deemed unthinkable. But Kakuzu was a rarity in that he never saw this as being the case; man or woman, one’s inner strength was all that mattered in regards to being a shinobi. He’s spoken with Konan at length about her childhood, and the trauma she endured, and he knows that this little blue-haired lady is a sight tougher than a LOT of people (and Kakuzu’s met quite a few in his long life). Konan walks up to him and he smiles; it’s rare for Kakuzu to smile, but Konan brings it out of him. “Good evening, Kakuzu-san. I think it’s my turn.” He nods, and slips off his mask so that his lips are exposed. He leans down and very, very gently kisses her cheek. Her blushing skin is soft and her smile is beautiful as she thanks him and steps away, to let the next person go.

Kisame

Nobody knows this about Kakuzu (and he fears he would be mocked if they did), but the old guy puts a lot of emphasis on the idea of exercise. Five hearts is a lot of responsibility, and staying healthy is how Kakuzu intends to keep living forever. So every night, when the others are asleep and after he’s done with his reading, he’ll spend some time in his room exercising. One night Kisame passed by his open door and saw him using a pair of heavy books as make-shift weights. The next evening Kisame came to Kakuzu’s room with a set of real barbells , which he casually gave to Kakuzu with the admonition not to overdo it. Kakuzu greatly appreciated the gesture (and the unspoken support), and the two have been good friends ever since. But ... a kiss between them would just be too strange, so Kisame comes up with a better option: an arm-wrestling match, Kisame grabs the kitchen table and two chairs and sets them up under the mistletoe. Of course the rest of the Akatsuki gathers to watch, hooting and hollering and placing bets on who will win. Kisame and Kakuzu are both fairly evenly matched, so that challenge goes on for a while. Finally, with a final grunt of exertion, Kakuzu is able to slam Kisame’s hand into the table. Everyone claps, and Kisame laughs and tells Kakuzu that he’s “one tough son of a bitch”; high compliment coming from a man who was half-shark.

Itachi

Out of all the members of the Akatsuki, Itachi was by far the least problematic of the younger ones. Quiet, thoughtful, quick and efficient in completing missions. And polite; always forthcoming with “please” and “thank you”, and never failing to use honorifics with the others, even though some of them (ie Deidara and Hidan) don’t show him that same respect back. One time Kakuzu had caught a cold that stubbornly hung on for several days. Itachi came to his room every day with a cup of congestion-easing tea, something that Kakuzu didn’t ask for, but greatly appreciated nonetheless. Itachi comes up to him and nods. “Kakuzu-san.” “Itachi-san.” Itachi leans up and gives him a light kiss to the cheek, and Kakuzu is struck by a particular urge — to hug this kid. Something about him, perhaps everything about him, seems like a cry for parental love and affection. Kakuzu resists this odd impulse, but Itachi seems to sense that it’s something he wanted, because he leans over again and very briefly puts his arms around the older man. “Thank you,” he murmurs, before walking away. Kakuzu watches him go, slightly shaking his head.

Tobi

Tobi gives Kakuzu an uneasy feeling deep within his heart(s). Running around, speaking loudly, eating nothing but candy and sweets, acting like a complete fool — it’s an act. Kakuzu has never been more convinced of anything in his life. The only question is, why is Tobi putting on this act? To deceive them all into a false sense of security, before striking? Kakuzu has hunted bounties a good deal of his life, and a lot of the more difficult ones to catch have acted EXACTLY the way Tobi does, in order to throw off potential bounty hunters. Kakuzu learned to see through them, the same way he sees through Tobi. But to tip one’s hand and give away what you know is unthinkable in the chase and capture game, so Kakuzu never lets on what he actually believes. “Oh boy Kakuzu-san; does Tobi get a kissy now?!” Kakuzu nods, and Tobi slides his mask halfway off (Kakuzu notes the lines on the side of his face; accident, most likely. Possibly a disfiguring one) and the strange glint of his eye. Before Tobi can act, Kakuzu puts a hand on his face and kisses his forehead. “There. Now go.” Tobi slides the mask back on and hurries away with his usual chatter and giggling, and Kakuzu reminds himself to loom through the bingo book later for bounties with visible scarring on the left side of the face.

Zetsu

Five hearts means more blood needed to sustain said hearts. More blood means a stronger scent. A stronger scent means ... Kakuzu smells delicious to someone like Zetsu. Zetsu approaches him and looks around quickly; the two are alone. His brain runs through every possible scenario in which he could successfully kill and eat Kakuzu. He’s victorious in a few ... but most end with him mutilated by the man’s tentacles, and having to face the wrath of Pein on top of everything else. So he simply sighs, flicks out his tongue to taste the saltiness of Kakuzu’s cheek, and walks away again. Just that one taste was almost enough to make zetsu throw restraint to the wind and eat his fill, so he leaves before he can do anything he’ll regret. Kakuzu wipes off his cheek in mild disgust ... in a group full of freaks, Zetsu certainly seemed to take the cake.

Deidara

Kakuzu still remembers the day they brought this kid into the group. And that’s exactly what he was; a kid. Barely 15 years old, with a powerful “gift”, and full of anger at a village he felt betrayed him in not trying to understand his unique sense of ‘art’. Fast forward several years later and Deidara had changed, and most of that change was the better. Kakuzu could only surmise that the kid matured due to the constant council and guidance of his older and wiser partner Sasori; Kakuzu feels mildly jealous that Sasori was able to reign some measure of improvement over HIS young partner, but Kakuzu couldn’t do a thing with Hidan. Still, though, even Sasori hadn’t been able to completely tame the kid, as evidenced by Deidara managing to get BOTH arms blown off in a tussle with some Konoha nin. Kakuzu had been tasked with sewing his new arms back on, but to the kids credit, despite his painful the procedure had been, he didn’t utter a sound. Had even thanked Kakuzu, twice, afterwards. Deidara walks up to him and looks almost shy; 19 years old now and still with the face of a child. Kakuzu leans down and kisses the kid’s forehead, again noting his soft and smooth — and LONG — his hair was. It sways as Deidara walks away, and Kakuzu wonders how much he could get for those luscious locks, from the right buyer.

Sasori

Respect. Out of all the words that Kakuzu could use to describe how he felt about Sasori, Respect was at the top of the list. And the funny thing was, Kakuzu hadn’t even met the REAL Sasori until almost a year of being in the Akatsuki. The two had been sent on a mission, and at night, near the campfire, a soft metal sound made Kakuzu turn his head. It was a small, slender redhead, emerging from the being that Kakuzu had THOUGHT was a real person. The two had looked at each other for a while, and then started a game of cards as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. As time went on, the two became closer. They both shared an interest in/knowledge of medical jutsu and procedures, and would often come to one another with questions or with articles on different medicines. Kakuzu nods at him as he walks up, and Sasori does the same. He thinks about it, bends down and kisses Sasori’s left cheek, and Sasori smiles at him, bidding him a quiet Good Evening before going back to his room.

Hidan

“Hey old fuck; you’ve been dying to get your hands on my sexy body all day, haven’t ya, pervert?” Kakuzu would roll his eyes at Hidan’s comment, but at this point, he’s ridiculously used to the things his partner says and does. As he looks at Hidan’s face, he wonders, and not for the first time, whether this is a punishment of sorts. Gaining five hearts and creating a kind of immortality only came for Kakuzu at the end of a long and bloody road, one paved with the unwilling sacrifices of other people. Was it Fate, that the Gods had put THIS man, this loud, overbearing, foul-mouthed heathen, into his path? And as the one person who just might be immortal, too? Hidan often joked about “When all these other assholes bite the big one, me and you might as well get married, bastard.” But what in the world was he saying? Surely he was joking; why would someone as young and attractive as Hidan want to be with Kakuzu? Kakuzu who was heaven knows how many times Hidan’s age, and — “So we gonna slobber each other or what?” “You’ve got a big mouth, brat. Learn to shut up once in a while.” “MAKE me shut up, fuck-face.” So Kakuzu grabs Hidan around the waist, tilts him back, and sinks into his lips. Kakuzu’s mouth is rough and scarred but Hidan’s is smooth and soft, and the contrast creates a dizzying effect for both men. Hidan grasps Kakuzu’s shoulders tighter, leaving slight nail-prints in Kakuzu’s flesh. Their lips are touching but in this moment it feels like everything is touching, even their very souls (if either of them still had one, that is). When Kakuzu finally breaks the kiss and pulls Hidan back up, the white-haired immortal seems fairly disorientated ... but that doesn’t stop his mouth. “You’re an even bigger pervert than I thought, old fuck. Who the hell said you could stick your tongue in my mouth?? And why —” Kakuzu suddenly reaches out and grabs Hidan’s face with both hands, this time pulling him forward into a very soft, closed-mouth kiss. “Better?” Instead of a smartass answer, Hidan simply nods; and now he’s smiling as he walks away. If he were to turn around at any point, he’d surely gasp; because Kakuzu’s smile was even bigger than Hidan’s own. “Stupid kid,” Kakuzu mutters to himself, still smiling as he makes his way back to his room.

[chattegeorgiana]

I ran out of space, I still thought Sakura would finally move on from Sasuke because it made sense for her to and because despite her weirdly not believable behavior, she was smart enough to realize she should move on from him. I was scrolling thru your blog and found that it might be due to cultural differences of how men/women in Japan view marriage though, but my point is when I really stopped to look at the story, her being hung up on Sasuke made less sense and I started liking her again lol

Haha, it’s okay, we can take it from here.

Well, yes, at least she is showing acknowledging in the war arc when that nin comes with a letter, that Sasuke is really not that great of a guy, though. And who could blame her. By the morale code she went given she was a Konoha nin, he wasn’t a great guy. But you see, that’s the problem here. If she would’ve been more involved in Sasuke’s path, like Naruto was, she probably wouldn’t have this view. She would have conflicting ones. What if Sakura knew the information Naruto knew? And this is where SS also lacks, imo.  If Kishi really wanted to go down the SS path, he could’ve involved her more into his narrative from the Uchiha clan massacre perspective. This one here is a big missed opportunity imo. I’ve always said it. Because of my SS background, one of the problems I saw was that. Because if you remember, back when she tells him this revenge won’t bring anyone happiness, despite being a child at that time, she does say something really good. Because it didn’t. Killing Itachi didn’t bring Sasuke happiness. On the contrary. Just more misery and mind torture given the newly arised moral questions in his head.  And if Kishi would’ve wanted to play well the SS card, he could’ve had her in that subplot. But he didn’t. On the contrary, she’s more involved in subplots regarding Naruto. His jinchuuriki state, his loss of master, his dream and whatnot. For a pairing that wasn’t intended to happen, Kishimoto sure put a lot of development in it. And for one that was intended to, he surely let a lot of plot holes in it. And yes, seeing her in different instances regarding Naruto, she seemed to move. Of course, it wouldn’t have been that easy because there were still her lingering feelings for Sasuke. Those had to be resolved. Loving Sasuke was always part of Sakura’s character. No question there. It was just that said love seemed to fade, and another one bloomed. But then, of course, Kishi killed it off because market decisions dictated so. It would make her a terrible woman, apparently, if she moved on from Sasuke to Naruto. Despite the fact that Sasuke did hurt her, and Naruto was really shown to be there next to her, supporting her, at all times. Many people take Sakura’s confession as fake. While yes, it has elements you could call fake - like her denying her feelings for Sasuke, the others were true. And she didn’t just switch to Naruto from Sasuke, like Kishi stated that it would’ve been.  It was all gradual, slowly built. From now standing her in her way - to wanting to kill her said love for Naruto’s sake. And in between all the history they shared together. So no, it wasn’t sudden nor fake. But alas.

Regarding the cultural differences yes, I see what you mean and I did take that into consideration. But you see, that was the thing with Naruto as a manga when it first started. It seemed to go against the status quo. To break barriers, limits and cultural norms.

Take shinobi system for example. I addressed this in an old post of mine. NaruSaku: The Grave, The Silent Vow, The Shinobi World

The status quo is presented to us here. But on their way to becoming ninjas, these are the guys who want to break that status quo. To defy it, to build their own way. Sasuke does that, too. Just differently than Sakura and Naruto.

On the other side in terms of relationships, Kishi also had something else in mind. And we see his authorial intent through Sai and the books he reads. He observes Sakura’s gentleness towards Naruto, her worry, their closeness. There’s even that chapter where he explains the whole -kun and -san honorifics and talks how these should be dropped in order to have a more heartfelt and closer connection. So we as readers see that as an author, Kishi had the intention to break those cultural norms.

But, at the same time Naruto was a brand. And the brand needs to have a market to sell to. And said market, well... you know the story from thereafter. But in my honest opinion, he should’ve stayed true to his own intentions. And he did so until Pein Arc. Maybe it was because of his old editor, Yahagi or so. Can’t recall the name right now. But as a story, Naruto was consistent up to Pein Arc. It turns into a mess right after that. Which coincidentally, is right after Yahagi left.

And even if we take it by cultural norms... said cultural norms say that the girl has unwavering trust in her partner. Well, like we talked in the other post, sadly it’s not the case, since Sakura’s faith in Sasuke crumbles time and time again. It is Naruto the one who builds her trust in Sasuke once again. 

But anyway, like we said before, it is what it is.

[yangssunglasses]

11 + 16, admiration

Thank you for the prompt! I additionally used prompt for Day 3 “secret” from FemslashFeb2020.

Pairing: Tsunade/Mikoto (as far as I know this might be the first fic for this random pair)

Rating: M (non-explicit)

Length: 2k+

Available on: FFN / AO3

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admiration, secret

.

From birth, Uchiha Mikoto was ingrained with a sense of propriety. She was raised to be graceful, controlled, refined in every way, not a hair out of place, a demure smile like a mask hiding her true feelings while she served exquisite cuisine and poured drinks. A perfect yamato nadeshiko in the making.

If she used those skills to poison, cheat, steal and murder, all the better. She was a proud kunoichi of Konoha. Everything that made her an ideal future bride, also made her an effective operative. She took her natural gifts—her charm, her pretty face, the tinkling laugh hiding the mirthless, deadly eyes—and used them, no matter how dirty it made her feel. It was for the village. And for a time she was content with the missions she flawlessly completed.

Until a blonde hurricane descended upon her and swept her off her feet.

Mikoto was planted in the inn deep in the Iwa territory, gathering information about their movements and deployments in the war. Unfortunately, her fellow worker noticed her sending off a coded message. Full of worst premonitions and convinced that it was a matter of days before her cover would be blown, Mikoto sent a request for extraction.

Then the Iwa team came for her in a broad daylight, a day earlier than the fastest Konoha team would show up. She ran, with her life on the line abandoning all pretense of ever being a civilian. In her desperation she blew behind her a grand fireball, the only combat jutsu she knew, and started a fire, hoping it’d slow down the pursuing Iwa-nin.

She almost believed it actually worked when they caught her at the outskirts of the village. A wall of rock grew right in front of her, blocking her only way of escape. She turned around, but the Iwa team surrounded her, coming closer. Mikoto was well and truly cornered. Grim-faced, she pulled a dagger out of her obi, determined to make this her last stand. They would not take her back alive.

The fight was short and brutal, the Iwa-nins overwhelming her with their numbers. The dagger was kicked out of her hand and she fell to her knees in defeat as her long, beautiful hair was grabbed in a painful hold.

“Well, well, well, we’ve found ourselves a Konoha spy. Our torture master will be delighted to meet you, bitch,” the team’s leader told her and chuckled, his fellows laughing along.

Mikoto was stiff with fear, but she still looked up, locking her jaw and refusing to show any weakness. “I’m afraid I have to decline the invitation. Perhaps another time?” she said drily.

“You have a pretty voice. Don’t worry, you will sing for sensei after he burns off that pretty nose and ears!” the man replied with a laugh.

Mikoto couldn’t quite restrain her shudder. She glanced around, searching for some form of escape, but found nothing of use. She swallowed thickly and squeezed her eyes shut. If the help wasn’t coming, then she had no choice… Her tongue found the false tooth filled with a poison capsule. Just one bite and this would be over…

A fist smashed through the stone wall, a green blur shooting towards the Iwa-nin and punching straight through his ribcage. His fingers loosened, freeing Mikoto’s hair from the brutal hold. The man died with a gurgle and slid off the arm of a blonde Konoha kunoichi dressed in a standard uniform. No, not a kunoichi—a shinobi, Mikoto corrected herself. A real combat specialist.

The other two Iwa-ninja reeled in shock at their leader’s sudden demise, then attacked the woman furiously, but she effortlessly batted them away like weak pups. Except that her hits were absolutely lethal, pulverizing her foes in an instant.

The woman then turned to Mikoto with a concerned look in her amber eyes. “You okay?” she asked, scanning her for injuries. She seemed so bright, like the sun shining at noon.

Mikoto’s heart leapt and she nodded shakily. “I… I think so…” she replied.

“Let me check,” the woman decided and knelt next to her. She raised her hand, then halted, realizing it was still dripping with blood. After wiping it on the grass, she lightly put it on Mikoto’s sternum. It lit up with the green chakra of a medical ninjutsu. “Hmm… Broken ribs, give me a minute to fix that…” the woman muttered with a focused look. Mikoto sighed in relief, feeling her injuries disappear.

“All good. Now, let’s get out of here, Princess,” the woman said with a smile and got up. She extended her hand to help Mikoto up. The same hand that impaled an enemy, then healed her just as easily, was small and unbelievably soft to the touch. It felt like a hand of the finest royal lady that never worked a day in her life.

“I’m Mikoto. Thank you for your assistance, shinobi-san. I was sure the extraction team would come tomorrow,” Mikoto said, remembering her manners.

“Good thing that I was closer. And faster than those slowpokes. I’m Tsunade, by the way.”

Mikoto started. “Tsunade-hime of the Sannin?” she asked.

Tsunade laughed. “Between the two of us, you’re the princess. Let’s get going before more rock-faces come this way,” she said and pulled Mikoto along with her.

It took them three days of a grueling travel, narrowly dodging pursuers from Iwa, to get to the nearest Konoha war camp, where Tsunade cheerfully reported her mission’s success, handed Mikoto off to the brass, then skipped off to the medical tent to work her magic. Mikoto stayed behind for a briefing with her controller who would then pass on everything to Konoha.

“Good job, Uchiha. Glad to have you back in one piece,” the man clapped her on the shoulder. “Go get something to eat. You may report back tomorrow morning for your next assignment.”

Dismissed, Mikoto tiredly got up and trudged off. The field rations they had at camp were chunky and disgustingly bland, but filled her stomach. She stared at the empty wrappers, contemplating her next assignment. She knew what that meant—she’d be sent somewhere far away, maybe Kiri border, maybe back to Konoha. Three days ago it wouldn’t have mattered to her, but now her mind was filled with thoughts of blonde hair, amber eyes and that cocky grin. She needed to see Tsunade again before she had to go.

Almost without conscious decision her steps took her to the medical tent. There was a commotion inside. She heard familiar shouting and a person was hurled out of it. Tsunade appeared in the entrance, her stern face twisted in displeasure.

“And don’t come back here or I’ll kill you with my bare hands!” she threatened. The hapless soul that drew her ire scrambled back in fear, then ran.

“Is everything alright? What did she do?” Mikoto asked.

“Oh, they let you out already? Never mind, this was nothing. Just getting rid of an idiot that was going to kill a patient with her incompetence,” Tsunade explained. “Stupid council. This wouldn’t have happened if passing my recommended course was required for field medic certificate.” She looked back into the tent and exhaled. “Damn it, and we need every pair of hands in here.”

Mikoto’s heart thudded in her chest and she jumped on her chance. “Maybe I could help? I may not be a certified medic, but I’m good with a needle and I can administer first aid,” she offered.

Tsunade looked surprised at first, then took her in and grinned. “Wash your hands and you’re in. I need an assistant.”

Mikoto nodded, doing her best not to betray her eagerness for the task.

The work was bloody, long, dirty, thankless and draining. But there was also something refreshing and clean about it that Mikoto liked. In Tsunade’s world, she didn’t have to worry about being perfect. Her worth wasn’t determined by her beauty. There was no subterfuge, just a simple, straightforward goal—to heal as many as she could.

After making a whole round through the medical tent and attending all the injured, Mikoto took Tsunade outside. They sat on a bench and looked up at the stars.

Tsunade rubbed her temples tiredly, loose blonde locks slipping out of her pigtails. “Some of them won’t survive,” she said bleakly, then clenched her fists. “If only I’ve gotten here sooner, then maybe…!”

Mikoto gently took her hand, opened it and then wiped it clean with a warm, wet towel, before doing the same with the other. “Don’t beat yourself over this. You’re not god, you can’t save everyone, Tsunade-hime,” she said softly, dabbing her forehead with the towel.

Tsunade sighed and closed her eyes, relaxing under her touch as Mikoto continued to stroke her temples soothingly. “I know, I know, Princess.”

From up close, Tsunade’s features looked delicate and deceptively fragile, her eyelids smudged with little rest. Mikoto regarded her with admiration, thinking that this woman deserved the royal title bestowed upon her, but not because of her birthright. She was so much more than just a kunoichi, a warrior, a princess or a medic. Mikoto acknowledged to herself that she was merely well-bred, but Tsunade—Tsunade was noble to the very core. Her light was like the sun, shining brightly and pulling everything around into her orbit.

Mikoto chanced a look at Tsunade’s coral lips. They seemed soft and open, welcoming. On impulse, she leaned in and kissed them lightly before quickly pulling away.

Tsunade blinked. “What was that?” she asked in wonder, her tone low and breathy.

Mikoto self-consciously tucked a strand of her raven black hair behind her ear. “I’m sorry, I overstepped. I’m just… grateful. In the time you used to save me, you could have healed many more injured.”

She shouldn’t have done this, she was an Uchiha, Tsunade was a Senju. Even if they weren’t both women, what she’d done was completely improper. There may be peace between their clans now, but centuries of tradition and bad blood didn’t just disappear overnight. Her fate was already decided, a husband and the children she would bear him, but her stubborn Uchiha heart didn’t listen to reason. Tsunade made her feel like no one ever had before and for the first time in her life, Mikoto yearned for something she could never truly have. She didn’t want to be refined, but bold and daring. She wanted to reach for the sun and not get burned.

Tsunade looked at her tenderly and cupped Mikoto’s cheek, stroking it with her thumb. “Don’t be stupid, Princess. You just said I can’t save everyone. I’m glad I came for you.”

Their gazes locked and Mikoto was transfixed. The amber eyes searched her for permission which she gave by tilting her chin up. Tsunade closed the distance and kissed her, gentle and firm. Mikoto was soaring among the clouds. The kiss deepened, eager lips and wet tongues exploring frantically until they parted in a daze, flushed and gasping for breath.

“How long do we have?” Tsunade asked.

“I’m leaving in the morning,” Mikoto told her. Tsunade only nodded. There was no use for sadness and regret. What mattered was the time they had now. She took Mikoto’s hand.

“Come with me,” she said and led her to a private tent, a luxury set aside for one of the Sannin.

There on a simple pallet, Tsunade made love to her, long, slim fingers opening a virginal passage, her expert touch causing Mikoto to see stars again. Mikoto worshipped her body in turn, fingers and tongue tracing fiery patterns on a golden skin and after they were both warm and sated, they fell asleep in each other’s arms.

In the early morning, Mikoto woke up and dressed quietly.

“Thank you,” she whispered and kissed Tsunade on the diamond mark in the middle of her forehead, before slipping out of the tent. She could never speak of this, but she would always treasure that one stolen night with the rightful princess of Konoha. For one night, she was not a kunoichi or an Uchiha, she was just Mikoto, the lover of the most incredible woman in the world.

They never met again, but Mikoto blushed whenever she heard a mention of Tsunade. If asked about it, she always smiled demurely and lowered her gaze.

“I just admire Tsunade-hime so much. I’m quite a fan of hers. Did you know she once saved my life?” she then said. Technically, it was all true. Just not accurate. There were no more questions.

And when her son stabbed her through the heart, Mikoto took her secret to the grave.

[fandom-queenliness]

The Breaking Part 4: Nino

This is part 6 of my Burning series, or my Adrien Affair AU (shout out to the anon that mentioned that title), still trying to decide. You can read the rest of it here.

Not gonna lie, I cried writing this. Now I may just be very soft, but it does get pretty emotional. Warning, there are like two swear words, I think. 

Anyway, onto the pain!

The Breaking Part 4: Nino

Nino’s breath left him when Kagami walked out, head held high as she walked over to him and Chloe. He knew it was his turn next, his turn to give Adrien a piece of his mind and yet…

He wasn’t sure if he would survive it.

He wasn’t sure if Adrien would survive it.

Chloe stood, buzzing with nerves and anger. “What did you do?”

“Made him hurt,” Kagami answered. Chloe nodded, joined in their solidarity.

They turned to Nino. “Are you ready?”

Was he ready to end his friendship? Was he ready to make Adrien hurt for what he had done? Was he ready to show all his anger and disappointment?

He glanced down to the phone in his hand, to the text Alya had just sent a minute ago, telling him that Felix had come to the house, to comfort Mari.

Of course he would, Nino thought, he loves her.

He flashed to Adrien’s careful mask as he recounted his crimes, how he hadn’t even told Marinette before broadcasting it to the whole world.

He loves her more than Adrien.

And so do I.

He looked up to the two women and nodded, determination turning him to iron, so he would not falter when he faced his friend. “I’m ready.”

Adrien didn’t call for security. He just stared down at the wakizashi Kagami had given him, not daring to touch it.

He sat behind his desk and stared, knowing that when she saw sense, she would come to collect it herself.

It was only a matter of time before they all saw sense. Marinette would get over her anger and forgive him, seeing that he was so very apologetic, and then the rest would follow. They were his friends, his family. The words Chloe and Kagami and spat were meaningless, born from shock. They would cool down and take them back soon enough. He just had to see Marinette and she would convince them.

She would forgive him, they all would.

Nino nearly walked right out of the office when he saw Adrien smile at him.

His teeth were still a little bloody from Kagami’s punch – she had gleefully recounted her conversation with him – and the smile came off more like a grimace. But the joy in his green eyes made Nino’s blood heat up with anger, remembering Mari’s broken voice.

“Nino, bro, thank god.” Adrien didn’t even suspect him of being angry. Clearly, he had not learned his lesson with Kagami and Chloe. He sagged a little in his chair—in relief.

“Adrien,” he returned softly.

The blonde didn’t even see his heartbroken expression. “Kagami punched me, man! Can you believe it? I mean, I’m not sure I deserve to have my teeth ache for the next three days, do you? I know I got far worse back in the day as Chat Noir, but wow, Kagami was really mad.” He shook his head and shrugged. “Well, it’s not like she won’t apologise later. Anyway, any ideas?”

Nino stared at him. “Ideas?”

“For what to say to Marinette,” Adrien told him as if it was obvious. “You’ve known her since you guys were kids. You must have perfected the art of apologising. So hit me, what do you have?”

“You think I came here… to help you apologise to Marinette?” The words tasted bitter in Nino’s mouth; he could barely believe Adrien. He really didn’t know him anymore. Had he ever?

“Well, why else would you come?” Adrien’s smile faded, turning wary. “You do support me, right?”

He really was a child, Nino realised. Looking at him, with his bruising face and childish expression, he could finally see what he had been ignorant to. A selfish, self-absorbed, arrogant, child. Adrien was blind, he didn’t even see the way Nino couldn’t look him in the eyes.

Nino…?” Adrien asked, standing up slowly. He walked over, tried to hug him, but Nino stepped away, shaking his head.

“I can’t,” he said, even as tears burned his eyes. “I can’t support you Adrien. Not after what you have done.”

Adrien’s expression turned to hurt. As if he had the right to feel like he was the victim in all of this.

“But—but Nino please.” He grabbed Nino’s arm, eyes wide and pleading. “You’re my best friend, you know I would never do anything to hurt Marinette.”

“But you did!” Anger erupted out of him, red hot and vengeful. “You cheated on her, then you lied about it, and then you told the whole damn world. You—you hurt her Adrien. You betrayed her.” He ripped his arm away from him, looking at him in disgust.

 “It was an accident; you can see that!” He protested, still reaching out for him. “I promise to make sure to make up for it, I will, I promise Nino! Please don’t just leave me!”

“You can’t make up for this!” He glared at the blond, outraged by the very idea. “You can’t just think a promise is going to make anyone believe you. You promised to love Marinette, to cherish her, to never hurt her and you did just that. You cheated on her and then told the world about it!”

 “I had to!” Adrien looked close to ripping his hair out. “I had to tell Mark otherwise he would blackmail me, or worse, actually tell the press I was using drugs—”

“THAT DOESN’T CHANGE THAT YOU CHEATED ON HER!” Nino shouted, red blinding his vision. “THAT DOESN’T CHANGE YOU CHOSE SEX OVER YOUR WIFE. THAT DOESN’T CHANGE THAT YOU LIED FOR SIXTEEN MONTHS.”

“It was a mistake!” Adrien bellowed back. He ran a hand through his hair, looking at Nino pleadingly, begging him to understand. But he couldn’t, he just couldn’t. All he knew was that Adrien had hurt Marinette and that it was unacceptable.

“It was an accident, Nino,” he said in a hushed voice. “I was drunk, I was lonely, I was nearly insane—”

“You were weak,” Nino spat. He had been drunk before, he had been lonely before, he had been nearly insane in far worse ways than Adrien could know, and he had never done what he had. “You are weak and a liar and a bastard. You are a terrible husband, father, and friend.”

Anger burned in Adrien’s eyes, dark and horrible. “Don’t try and make this about you!” He seethed, pointing a finger at Nino. “Everyone is trying to make this about them but it’s only about me and Marin—”

“Marinette? Marinette who knew nothing until today? Marinette who was crying her eyes out this morning? Marinette who I have loved since we were children?” Nino crowded into Adrien’s space, making use of his extra height to look down at him. He stumbled back, staring up at Nino in fear.

“Nin—"

“She is the closest thing I have to a sister and you broke her heart,” he hissed. “I have hurt her nearly as much as you because I didn’t see what you were doing. I should have known you were not worthy of her. Looking back all I can see are your faults. Every day since we met was a warning sign and I ignored them.” He clutched at his head, trying to ignore his breaking heart. “You have hurt her since the day you two met and we barely noticed.”

Adrien’s green eyes narrowed in barely disguised defensiveness. “What are you talking about—”

“Remember Lila?” Nino snapped, loathing already building up in his throat. “Remember how you promised to stand by Marinette and then did nothing? How you let everyone believe Lila was telling the truth, how you let Marinette deal with it all on her own? Remember how you let me believe everything Lila said, let me believe that Marinette was a bully? Remember how you didn’t do anything to protect Mari?”

“You forgave me for that!” Adrien yelled back. “You all did! Marinette forgave me, didn’t she? She married me!”

“Because we were blind! Because we couldn’t see how stupid and selfish you were!” Nino shouted, swiping his hand through the air in anger. “You lied to us just as much as Lila!”

Adrien gaped at him, and Nino used his shock to take a pause. He took a breath and tried to calm down, so he didn’t lose his control and do something stupid, like throttle Adrien.

Quietly, Nino told him, “I was too young and foolish to see the true meanings of your actions, the passiveness, and selfishness of them. And even when I got older, I brushed them aside as mistakes, one-offs.” Tears appeared in his eyes, hot and horrible. “I loved you, Adrien, you were my best friend, and you did this.”

“W-were?” His friend crept closer, face wary. “What do you mean, ‘were’? What are you talking about?”

With a broken sigh, Nino said, “After what you have done—” A sob made its way into his throat and choked him off.

Adrien jumped on his weakness and tried to desperately pull him back in. He grabbed Nino’s hand and squeezed reassuringly. It made Nino sick, all he could think about was Marinette and the tears in her eyes.

“I had good reason Nino,” Adrien promised eagerly. “I do, I can tell you all of them—"

Nino held up a hand, shutting his eyes from the image of his best friend trying to justify his affair. The honeyed words died in Adrien’s mouth, surprise and hope made their way into his eyes. He was hopeful, hopeful Nino was forgiving him. As if it was possible. 

Instead, Nino said, “I don’t think we can be friends anymore.”

Relief flooded through him even as his heart broke.

The hope faded from Adrien’s eyes, leaving shock and fear in its wake. He dropped Nino’s hand.

“What?”

Nino looked him in the eye. “You lied to me.”

Adrien reached for him. “I had to.”

Nino took a step back. “You hurt Marinette.”

The blond followed. “I didn’t mean to.”

Nino shook his head. “You don’t respect her. Even as teenagers, you never respected her, not as she deserves. I should have seen it.” More tears welled up and he pressed two hands to his heart. “I should have been there for her when everything was going wrong. When you were too pushy, when you were too passive when you were too cruel.” He levelled a tearful glare at Adrien, matching his furious green gaze. “I should have protected her, but no, she doesn’t need protecting. You just need to be taught a lesson.”

A snarl ripped from Adrien’s mouth, but it sounded more like a whine. “Nino, please stop. Stop, please.”

Rage burned in his veins.

“No.” Nino stalked forward and grabbed Adrien’s collar, lifting him up to his height. “I am not going to stop, because you never did! You didn’t stop when you had the chance, you just kept making mistake after mistake and I never called you out on it.” He dropped Adrien, glowering down at him.

“I hope you satisfied; I hope you are finally, finally satisfied!” he yelled down at his once friend. “I hope you had a blast while you dragged all of us along, ruining our lives in the pursuit of your own pleasure! Your own joy, your own perfect, perfect fucking world.” He shoved Adrien, pushing him back into the window.

He put a hand up in defense. “Nino wait—"

“Oh you just say what you need to say, don’t you?” He seethed. “You just say whatever you can to get everyone to believe you. Do words—do promises—have any meaning to you? Did you mean anything you said to us? TO YOUR FRIENDS?” He put a hand to his chest, right over his hurting heart. “What about your wedding vows? The promise you made to never hurt your family?”

He could barely speak through his tears and rage. Everything hurt so much, it felt like he was ripping himself apart. All he could feel was anger, outrage, betrayal.

It hurt so much.

He wiped away his tears, pointing accusingly at Adrien. “Are you even sorry?! Do you even care? Or do you just see us as things you can crush and leave behind whenever we inconvenience you? Should I just let you do whatever you want, let you treat years of trust and friendship like trash? Treat Marinette like NOTHING?”

Adrien was crying now too, sobbing his heart out, but it was too late, too late for any of it.

“I’m sorry, please Nino, you’re all I have,” he cried out. “I’ll do anything, I’ll walk on glass, I’ll do whatever you want—”

“It’s not what I want!” Nino shouted; voice hoarse. “It’s about what you have done, about everything that lies broken between us. How can I trust you after what you have done?” His voice broke and he sobbed. “How can anyone? How can we go on with our lives after you betrayed everything we thought we knew about you?”

He felt like screaming, screaming for the unfairness of it all. How could the world do this? No, how could Adrien do this, how could he, how could he, how could he?

Adrien scrambled forward, face red and eyes running. He gripped Nino’s arms, forcing him to look at the blond. “Nino, I’ll make everything better,” he said, throat choked with sobs. “I swear, I swear I can. Everything will be alright; I can fix this. Everything can be just as it was. Marinette will forgive me, I know she will, and then you won’t have to be mad!” He was growing hope, his words heavy with it.

“I’ll show Mari how sorry I am and then it’ll be just fine, and then everyone won’t be so angry. Alya will calm down, Kagami and Chloe will apologise, the kids will never have to know!” He smiled wetly at Nino, eyes alight with his fantasies. “I know I hurt Mari, but we can get through this. I’ll make it up to her, to you, to everyone. Everything will go back to normal.”

Nino could only shake his head, pulling his arms away and hugging himself to keep from shaking. “It’s not possible Adrien.”

“Why not?” He demanded. “I can do it, just trust me.”

“I CAN’T!” Nino exploded. “I CAN’T BECAUSE YOU RUINED EVERYTHING.” He breathed raggedly, squeezing his eyes shut. “How can I look at Emma and Hugo without remembering how you ripped their mother apart? How can I look at Marinette and not regret stopping you? How can I look at you and not hate you?”

He opened his eyes and scowled. “This isn’t like before Adrien. It’s not like when we were kids. You aren’t a teenager hurting feeling anymore, you are a grown man, ruining everything. You didn’t just ruin your relationship with your Marinette and her kids, but you ruined the family we all found together.”

Nino heaved, struggling to keep back his tears. “You fucked up, and Miraculous Ladybug can’t wipe it all away. How can anything ever be the same again?”

The words seemed to have gotten through to Adrien, at least slightly, because new tears fell down his cheeks and he started pleading again with vigour. “Please, please don’t leave me. You’re my closest friend please I can’t lose you—”

“You lost me the moment you betrayed my sister,” Nino spat, trying desperately to keep his resolve.

Adrien fell to his knees, green eyes red and welling with tears. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, please, please Nino. I love you, please, I’ll do anything!”

Disgust and loathing exploded behind Nino’s eyes. Adrien should be begging Marinette for forgiveness, not Nino. Nino should never have been here. This never should have been an affair so public everyone knew.

“You disgust me,” he said, relishing how Adrien flinched. “You treat me with more respect than Marinette. Tell me, would you be saying the same things to her, if she was here right now?”

“I would,” Adrien wailed, “I would, Nino, just don’t leave. Please don’t leave me, I can’t do this without you, please—”

“You have always done everything without me,” Nino told him coldly, suddenly empty of emotion. “You never listen to me, at least not when it counts.” His hands tightened into fists. “I hope you finally listened this time Adrien, I hope you realise that I am done with you.”

He walked to the door and pulled it open, desperately trying to ignore Adrien’s pleading and his own heavy, broke heart.

He could hear Adrien’s sobs until the elevator doors closed, and then he broke into his own.

Adrien kneeled in his office, staring at the elevator through blurry tears.

How could Nino do this? He couldn’t believe it, it felt too real, too big for what he had done.

He knelt there for a few more moments, trying to calm his rising hysteria. It would be okay; Marinette was the key to getting Nino back. To get them all back. If he could just get Marinette back, then everyone would come back to him.

He took a deep breath, reassured. What Nino had said wasn’t true, it couldn’t be true. He didn’t regret letting Marinette marry him. He was just angry and confused. He was shocked, the news had been sudden after all.

Slowly, Adrien stood up and walked to his desk for tissues, but his hands shook so much had curled them into fists.

It was fine, it wasn’t real, he reminded himself, ignoring that small little doubt in the back of his mind. Nino was his best friend; he could forgive this.

Adrien wiped away his tears and straightened his back, smoothing his shirt just in case his father came by. Not that Adrien had much contact with him anyway. Even Felix, who didn’t even work at Gabriel got attention from the company’s namesake. From their father.

He picked up a picture from his desk, holding it tenderly as he walked around and sat in his chair. It was of him, Marinette, Alya, and Nino, back in College. He smiled down at it, at the joyful faces on all of them.

His grip tightened on it, and he swore to himself he would fix everything. The words his friends spat at him meant nothing, and everyone would forget when he was done.

Everything would be just fine; he was sure of it. He knew it.

Wiping away his tears, he placed the picture down, telling his aching heart that Nino would come back, they all would.

It would be fine, just like before.

Yikes, that hurt. Anyway, that’s the end of The Breaking parts, next is Alya’s turn, followed by a look at Felix, and then we get back on track and look at the sequels. 

Hope you enjoyed!

[ladyiceflame-blog]

An Inconvenient Wedding:

Chapter Thirteen: The Undeniable Truth

Naruto glowered at the entry to Team Seven’s shared tent, determined to pounce on his sensei the moment he chose to reappear, and demand that this wedding be stopped.  The young genin had taken an instant liking to the high-spirited Frost kunoichi, but after learning of their possible blood ties, mere liking had developed into fiercer protective instincts. “Are you going to stare at that tent-flap all night?” Sasuke demanded, as he stoically endured Sakura’s first-aid.  She’d put a salve on his cut lip, a bandage wrap on his slightly skinned knee, and was currently putting a medicated gauze pad on a small scratch she’d found on his forearm. “Yes!” Naruto returned hotly. “You’ll be waiting all night, then,” Sakura warned.  “He’s going to go to that big party, like all the other adult shinobi.  We’ll be on our own tonight...minding the Daimyo...” Naruto growled in frustration.  “This stinks!  Kaka-sensei needs to know about those scrolls!  And Hinata-chan’s cousin!  Aunty-Priestess-Knockout-sama is in danger, and we can’t let her marry this skeevy guy!” “Did you just call the Lady Ice Flame...‘aunty’?” Sasuke smirked. “Yeah!” Naruto admitted, scratching the back of his head.  “Her mother’s last name was Uzumaki, wasn’t it?!  I’m entitled!” “You can’t know that she’s directly related to you by that fact alone,” Pakkun explained.  “The Uzumaki clan was scattered long ago, and their most dependable genealogy records were destroyed along with Uzushiogakure.” “There were many Uchiha who share a name, but no blood kin.  Hyuga are the same,” Sasuke explained. “I don’t care!” Naruto cut them all off.  “Priestess Knock-out is the only other Uzumaki I’ve ever seen, so I will claim her!  Even if what you say is true.”   There was a small pause for adjusted feelings before Naruto bolted from his cot, and began to put on his shoes, announcing his latest plan: “Time to crash the party!” “No you don’t, pup!” Pakkun barked, and bit onto the toe of his shoe, tugging it out of his hand.  “Kakashi-san told me to keep my eye on all of you, so you’ll be staying right here!” “What if I need to go to the bathroom...?” Naruto asked, eyes narrowed in annoyance. “Then I’ll get a leash, and take you for ‘walkies’....” Pakkun riposted. Sakura laughed.  Even Sasuke hid a chuckle behind a sudden need to cough. Naruto huffed, clearly not amused, and sullenly plopped back down onto his cot.  “Am I the only one who really cares about her around here?!?” “That’s a dumb question, even for you,” Sasuke returned.  “This entire campground cares about her!  Even this Asaito person, for the moment, at least.  Its highly unlikely that he’d do anything to harm her when he wants to marry her tomorrow.” “That’s a valid point, Sasuke,” Sakura concurred, as she moved to sit by Pakkun.  “Miriyume-sama is safe.  Perhaps safer than she’s ever been in her life.  Brides are always the most important guest at a wedding.” “Anyone who dares attack her will be torn apart,” Sasuke added.  “She is the Queen of the Moment, until...” “–Until..?” Naruto pressed. “Until she says her vow, and becomes Asaito’s wife.  Then she is beholden to his wishes.” Sakura shuddered.  Naruto scowled. “Not.  Happening!” the Uzumaki declared. “When is the ceremony supposed to start tomorrow?” Sakura asked. Sasuke shrugged his shoulders. “Then we’d better wake up really early, then, before anyone else does, and talk to Old Man Hokage, the Daimyo, Knock Out-sama’s Mom....anyone who can help us,” Naruto suggested. “Then we should all get some sleep while we can,” Sasuke continued. “What a wonderful idea,” their sensei chirped agreement, as he, quite suddenly, rushed into the tent, causing even Pakkun to jump slightly.  Kakashi was carrying a large, covered platter for some reason. “Kaka-sensei!” Naruto exclaimed, as he recovered from his fallen cot.  “Asaito and his monk are total creeps!  Believe it!  Hinata-chan said that they were sleezing up on one of her cousins!” “‘Sleezing,’ you say....?” Kakashi echoed, setting the tray on a table. “We saw scrolls that listed women from all over,” Sakura chimed in, “Like some kind of kunoichi Bingo Book!” Kakashi arched a silver eyebrow at her mention of that particular, obscure publication.  Anbu’s Most Wanted List was hardly common knowledge.... “Who told you about the Bingo Book?” Kakashi demanded.  Sasuke commandeered his attention with more interesting news: “All of Asaito’s guards are generously paid mercenaries, who are all petrified of their employer...and that monk.” “...and the monk smells of foul magic and unwholesome intent,” Pakkun added. “Sounds like the reconnaissance went well,” Kakashi congratulated.  “So, I believe that you’ve earned this....” lifting the lid from the platter, revealing three bowl of ice cream, topped with the most tantalizing candied apples that the genin had ever encountered. “What is that?!?” Naruto enjoined, already drooling. “A very special dessert from the Land of Frost called, ‘Fire on the Iceberg’,” Kakashi answered, as he blocked Pakkun from sniffing their exact contents.  “I asked the cooking-nin to make it....just for you.” The genin each took a bowl and began to eagerly eat.   Sakura squeeled in unabashed delight.  “These apples are so warm...and cinnamony!  Its like eating an autumn evening by fireplace!” “It does call autumn immediately to mind....” Sasuke agreed, trying to analyze the taste.  “It reminds me a lot of the cider my one cousin...used to make...” Pakkun huffed, and continued to glare at his contracted shinobi, feeling a bit betrayed by the snack-snubbing. “So,” the knucklehead ninja began, after drinking up the melted remnants of his bowl.  His tastebuds probably hadn’t had a chance to even register the flavor.  “How are we going to stop this stupid wedding tomorrow?” “By any means necessary,” Kakashi returned, “But only after we’ve exhausted every diplomatic method first.  Speaking of exhausted....” he allowed himself to slump against his dresser, “I am beat.  I’ll need to sleep a week straight after all of this.  But for now, I’ll have to make do with an old shinobi chakra-hack...” Kakashi made a single shadow clone, causing the original to sway unsteadily on his feet. “Kakashi-sensei!” Sakura chided, finishing her bowl of dessert and moving to his aid.  His obvious fatigue seemed to be having a sympathetic effect on her, she noticed, as she nearly stumbled in her rush to assist.  “You’re pushing yourself too hard!  You’ll run out of chakra if you keep on like this!” “Sakura’s right, sensei,” Sasuke opined, then yawned as he set down his empty bowl.  “A shadow clone will only drain you further.” “Unless the shadow clone does my sleeping for me,” Kakashi countered, as his doppleganger crawled into his cot.  “When I return, I dismiss the clone, and all its acquired rest will transfer to me.  But this is not a technique to use lightly, as there are certain....side-effects.  But desperate times call for desperate measures....” “What are the....” Naruto paused to yawn extravagantly, “...side-effects?” “Shadow clones can’t dream,” Kakashi answered, as he began to collect the bowls, and returned them to the tray. “So?” Naruto countered, as he wearily watched his teacher replace the lid over the dirty dishes.  His eyelids had suddenly become so heavy.... “So,” Pakkun picked up, after realizing that he wasn’t even going to be permitted the courtesy of licking the bowls clean, “A shinobi who cheats sleep like this too many times will go insane.  All living beings need to sleep and dream on a regular basis for a healthy mind.” Sasuke lowered his strangely heavy head in aknowledgement of the facts.  He’d seen his older brother, Itachi, employ this little-spoken of technique before.  It was like playing a game of chicken with one’s sanity.  It had probably contributed to his odd behavior...in the end.  He shuddered, as he pulled his blankets closer and reclined on his cot. “Your clone doesn’t waste time....” the Uchiha commented, over the sound of the Kakashi-clone snoring. “Unlike its creator,” lilted a gentle voice from the tent-flap.  Kurenai-sensei.  “Hiruzen-sama sent me to check in on you, Kakashi-san.”  Her crimson eyes flicked briefly over to his sleeping replica, understanding all too well the implications, then back to him.  “But if you’re in such a dire need of rest, the Hokage will understand, and forgive your absence,” turning to go. “No!” Kakashi protested, perhaps a little too forcefully.  Kurenai stopped in her tracks.  “I am going to this party...” shoving himself away from the dresser, “...and so is Pakkun.” “What?!” the dour pug reacted, pulling away from the covered platter he had become somewhat obsessed about. “I need your sharp nose, old friend,” Kakashi informed, picking him up.  “And you deserve an introduction to Miriyume-sama...” “The Lady Ice Flame?” the ninken clarified.  He’d never been one for attending large gatherings of humans.  They were always so noisy and crowded.  And the smells could get nauseating.  But seeing this Miriyume finally....face-to-face, would certainly make it worth all the ill-ease he would assuredly suffer. “Lucky dog....” Sakura complained weakly, as she slowly collapsed onto her cot.  “...Gets to....go to the...party....” Her voice tapered off like a spent wind-up doll recording, as Naruto and Sasuke unconsciously maintained their competitive natures by trying to out-snore each other. Kurenai was noticeably impressed, openly marveling at the sleeping genin. “My three are still wide awake!  How did you manage this?” Kurenai demanded. “Oh, just a sneaky, Shimogakuran childhood sleep-inducer....” Kakashi replied cryptically, as he doused the light and exited the tent. “So that’s why I didn’t get a bowl of ice-cream....” Pakkun finally factored.  “I thought you forgot about me...” “Never!” Kakashi scolded lightly, giving his best canine friend one of the dog biscuits he always seemed to have on hand.  “And there should be plenty of food at this party, too, if Shimogakurans are in charge.” “Oh, they are,” Kurenai vouched, as she led them to the party.  “Singing, dancing, gaming, and the drinks are flowing like rivers in hurricane season.” “Just like when I first met her,” Kakashi smiled at the memory. Kurenai smiled too.  This was a side of Kakashi that was rarely seen.  In fact, the last time she’d seen it was with his awkward little-boy crush on his sensei’s girlfriend, and eventual wife, Kushina. “You missed the most beautiful Father-Daughter toast,” Kurenai continued.  “The Shimokhan can be a surprisingly eloquent man when he wants to.  He even had the Hokage in tears.” “Its just as well that I wasn’t there.  I couldn’t in good conscious raise a cup in salute to this...arrangement,” Kakashi’s light mood swung to such an immediate darkness that Kurenai flinched in response. “Lord Hiruzen and I are aware of your objection to this marriage, and it didn’t require our mind-reading skills to learn of it, either,” Kurenai whispered.  “And you are not alone in your disapproval. Tonight’s dinner has convinced me that this is a bad match.  My students have also uncovered some....interesting things.” Kakashi’s tired eyes went wide, and he riveted his attention to his colleague. “So you remember what happened at dinner?” “Following some brief confusion, yes.  I managed to sort it all out.  Asaito doesn’t use genjutsu.  At least, not the type that I’m used to.  He seems to manipulate things that go deeper than thoughts.  Something closer to instincts....” “This man is exceedingly dangerous, then,” Pakkun announced.  “Like it or not, you humans are still ultimately motivated by your primal instincts, and no amount of higher intellect can completely smother them.” “Pakkun is right,” Kurenai easily ceded.  “Asaito has a frightening ability to silence the thinking mind through his ‘minor’ dojutsu, and....there’s more....” she tapered off, looking uncomfortable. Kakashi stopped in his tracks, and forced her to do the same with a hand on her shoulder.  They were midway to their destination. “More....?” he prompted. “There is an utter....coldness to Lord Asaito.  Emotionally speaking.  Despite his outward passion and poetic words, there are no real feelings behind anything.  I’ve been around stoic types all my life, Kakashi-san,” giving him a pointed look, “....and despite your aloof manners and flippant attitudes, there is always some underlying, emotional core.  Asaito has nothing,” she shivered.  “Its utterly alien to me.  To humanity.” “So, what are you saying, exactly?” Kakashi pressed. “That this Tsuroyuni Clan seems to produce men of an exceptionally strange quality, and that the Lady Ice Flame may be in for far more that she had bargained for.  Hinata has told me something particularly disturbing.  A member of the Hyuga Clan was recently petitioned by Tsuroyuni for marriage, about five months ago.  Hiashi-sama forbade it immediately, for reasons unknown.  And don’t even get me started on that monk...” They took a moment to watch the silhouettes of the vivacious revelers projected on the drinking yurt’s walls, as they capered across the illuminated folds of rough silk, twenty feet in front of them.  The incongruence between the jubilant scene and their growing sense of dread was stark. “I like her too, Kakashi-san,” Kurenai continued, “Probably not the same way you do,” she gave him a playful nudge, “But we must remember our duty as shinobi.  Konoha’s, and the Hokage’s honor depends on this.” Kakashi emitted a bitter sounding chuckle.  “Duty....honor....  These are hardly new concepts to me.” Too late, Kurenai realized the nerve she’d struck. “Kakashi-san....I didn’t mean—“ ”Let’s go,” the stoic’s stoic cut off her apology, “Its time to pour some whiskey for the Hokage...” and led the way into the yurt. Renara was relieved to be back in the company of her husband’s clan and countrymen...and the hundred-plus who were also celebrating her daughter’s marriage.  She usually shied away from these boisterous affairs, but tonight she welcomed the drunken antics and the wild celebration.  Anything to forget about that arrogant man, and the predatory gleam in his burgundy eyes whenever he looked at Miriyume. She’d tried to talk her daughter out of this, as had Ryuumaru.  Even Matsuko had expressed reservations.  But Miriyume was adamant. Perhaps if Ryuuyuki were still here, he could have talked some sense into her... The Heron Sage-Priestess sighed, as she continued to work on the embroidery for the wedding dress.  Miriyume had always been the wilder one, even before that storm kami had adopted her.  She blamed the Yaseiarashi side. “Are you in need of a drink, Renara-sama?” Hiruzen asked over the latest atonal chorus of a Shimogakuran drinking song. �� “As long as its tea, yes,” she replied.  “I drank my cup of winter whiskey for my husband’s toast, and one a day is still more than enough for my constitution.  Even thirty years of marriage to a Shimogakuran cannot change this.”  She glanced over at her husband, who was dominating the Chakra-Flow arm-wrestling tourney....as ususal.  The long string of people who had lost to him never held any grudges, though, since his generosity in victory left them all with replenished chakra. Hiruzen took a seat beside her, and poured her a cup of green tea from the pot nearby. “Ryuu-kun would never seek to change your ways,” the Hokage continued.  “He has always valued your self control and your sharp mind.  He has said that it makes up for what he generally lacks.” Renara set aside the sewing, and motioned the bartender for another cup.  She then poured her old friend some of her tea. “There are times when its so hard to be the steady voice of reason,” she admitted softly, as she directed their gaze to her daughter, who was caught up in a rather wild card game at another table.  “Like now.”  Her hand trembled with the weight of the teapot. Hiruzen’s sharp sensor abilities quickly picked up on the priestess’s unease, threatening to compromise the levee of her renowned forbearance. “She is so reckless, Hiruzen-kun, with only a pair of doting underclassmen, some fuinjutsu, and a moody, transient kami to keep her in check....” Sarutobi placed a comforting hand on her shaking shoulder.  “Renara-sama....” “...and its been working so far, but I live in dread of the day when she leaps fearlessly into the breech, and even the Sage of the Six Paths can’t reel her back in.”  She capped the confession with a forced chuckle and smile.  “Is tomorrow that day?”  Her soft voice, like the whisper of a dove, nearly broke Hiruzen’s heart.  She had lost her son.  Now, she feared the loss of the daughter.

“As long as I live and breathe, Renara-sama, you will NEVER lose your daughter,” the Hokage vowed solemnly.  “My Will of Fire has always extended to your family, and always shall.”

“And the Unity of Frost forever embraces you, my dear friend,” Renara returned, as she regained her usual regal composure.  “Speaking of unity...”

Hiruzen tracked her eyes over his shoulder, and saw his Leaf jonin. “I was beginning to think that I’d been abandoned,” Hiruzen announced sternly, “But when I remembered what charming company I’d found, I stopped caring,” flirtatiously turning back to the priestess. “Do forgive us, Hokage-sama,” Kurenai returned with a bow for Sarutobi and the Heron Sage, “...Renara-sama.  The genin were all wound-up.” “A little whiskey in warm milk does wonders at bedtime,” Renara offered, as she resumed her embroidery.  “Until they start drinking it on their own...” “I don’t even want to think about Naruto drinking whiskey right now,” Kakashi returned.  “His ramen habit is already too much,” as Kurenai took a seat beside Hiruzen. “Naruto....Uzumaki....?” the sage priestess queried.  “As in the child of Kushina Uzumaki...?” “Yes,” Kakashi returned.  “He’s my student.  You know of him?” “Kushina was my Father’s cousin,” Renara enlightened.  “We are related.” Kakashi turned a flabbergasted eye on Hiruzen.  What other bombs had this man failed to drop on him?!? “It’s a distant relation,” the Hokage defended.  “One I felt was hardly worth mentioning...” “Ugh, another useless card!” Miriyume’s voice suddenly exclaimed in obvious frustration from a large nearby table, as the rest of the card players laughed at her.  “Who shuffled this mess of a deck, dattebizu?!?” “Then again...” Hiruzen amended. “I thought we’d rid her of that word awhile back....” Renara shook her head in amused reproach.  “So childish sounding.” “What are they playing over there?” Kurenai asked, as an attentive bartender handed her a drink of whiskey. “That would be the ‘Bitter Harvest’ table,” the barman answered, handing Kakashi a cup,  “Its based on the cruelties of being a farmer in a country known for its short growing season.” “You made a game out of this?” Kakashi queried, as Pakkun sniffed the contents of the drinking dish, and quickly pulled his crinkled nose away. “A certain level of masochism has crept into our national identity, I guess you could say....” he smiled, before moving onto another group of drinkers. Kakashi set Pakkun on the stool beside Kurenai, and raised his dish in Miriyume’s direction.  “To the righteous struggle,” he toasted from afar.  “May we be ever vigilant,” then drank the vow.  Kurenai did likewise. Renara smiled in quiet sanction of the masked jonin’s obvious feelings for her daughter.  She took comfort in all the eyes that watched over Miriyume.  But this one’s spoke of a stronger conviction then most. She looked to Miriyume, who had just registered Kakashi’s presence, and saw the unmistakable spark.  The one that indicated a powerful resonance between souls.  She could easily sense their chakra natures reaching out toward each other, despite the commotion that engulfed them.  Their affinities craving union in the same manner as magnetic fields.  Just like they had at dinner.  This was why Miriyume’s spiritual core was so haywire, or rather, more haywire than usual. Of all the times to have them cross paths again, why now? Only the God Sage knew...

“Plum Harvest!” Matsuko suddenly bellowed out, as he threw down his hand of cards, sending everyone at the table into panicked action. Kunai knives were thrown at a lone shuriken at the center of the table, hanafuda cards went flying, drinks were spilt, all amidst shrieks and laughter. “The pile’s mine, Earthquake!” Gekido insisted. “What pile?” Hyozen asked, indicating the scattered cards.  “You sent it all flying again!” “This always happens with you!” another Frost kunoichi censured the Inuzuka.  “You get so intense!” “I can’t help it!” Gekido was doing a poor job of acting powerless, “I’m just freaky-fast like that!” “You got the freaky part right,” Matsuko laughed, as he refilled people’s drinks. “We’re going to make you play with chopsticks from now on...” another shinobi warned, as he gathered the scattered cards. “And he’ll still win every round,” Miriyume came to the defense of her fleet-fingered team mate, patting his striped cheek softly.  “C’mon, Gek-kun, let’s give the table a chance....” As she nudged him toward the bar counter, the boisterous crowd parted for their beloved kunoichi.  Faces lifted to offer her bright smiles.  Cups and bottles raised at her passage.  Hands moved to touch her silken kimono sleeves, and musicians sharpened their art at her approach.  It was all too easy to see the pride and affection her village had for her. So why had she taken to wandering the world, Kakashi wondered. As Miriyume passed her mother, Renara caught hold of her by the shoulder. “Come here, child,” the Heron Priestess ordered, and laid the embroidery against her back, apparently taking some tailoring measurement. “Mother, haven’t you made enough layers to mummify me with tomorrow?  I won’t be able to move in this dress...let alone marry!” “A mother’s final gift to her daughter is her wedding kimono,” Renara censured.  “You will not deny me!” Miriyume groaned in resignation, looking at the Hokage with a weary expression.  “Greetings, Hokage-sama.  Can you believe this woman?” as Renara began to adjust the ornaments in her mussed coif. “With every fiber of my being, Miri-chan,” Hiruzen answered, amused at her plight. Ice Flame shifted her blue-green eyes to Kurenai and Kakashi.  “Help me,” she pleaded weakly. Kurenai laughed before answering: “When true danger exists, I promise I’ll assist without a moment’s hesitation.  But now is not that time, right Kakashi-san–?” She turned to cue the other jonin, but found him caught up in a strange four-way stare down consisting of himself, Pakkun, Gekido, and Aoseishin.  The Inuzuka was openly scowling. “What’s the matter?” Kakashi broke the tense silence, “Is there a cap limit on ninken?” “Who the heck is this?!” Gekido demanded, leaning in closer to inspect the small forehead protector tied behind the pug’s ears. Aoseishin gave a small bark in support of the question. “My name is Pakkun,” the pug answered, sending both man and dog reeling back to a more respectable distance.  “I am Kakashi-san’s ninken.” “You–“ Gekido was in Kakashi’s face now, “–have a ninken?!  That speaks!?” Aoseishin seemed to be conducting a similar interrogation with his nose on the pug. “Is this a crime?” Kakashi chuckled, crossing his arms over his chest. “No!” the Inuzuka retorted.  “Just...unexpected!  Where was he earlier?” “Napping in the sun on Senkaori Island,” Pakkun answered in Kakashi’s stead, referring to the famed island of dogs.  “Now...who are you, exactly?” Aoseishin answered for them both with a couple of barks. “From the Northern Inuzuka, huh?” Pakkun repeated, studying Gekido’s notched fang stripes.  “I wasn’t aware that their clan had ventured that far abroad.” “I believe that they migrated in the wake of that man’s short stint at the Temple of Fire,” Hiruzen provided, indicating the Shimokhan.  “Along with a certain Sage Priestess errant,” glancing toward Renara.  “I’ve often compared him to a beacon of unyielding light with the power to draw the noblest hearts.” “Or an occasional inferno that threatens to melt the permafrost....” Renara added impishly, as she continued to fuss over Miriyume’s yukata. “So...you summon him?” Gekido was still fixated on Pakkun. “Yes,” Kakashi answered dismissively, as he watched Renara untie Miriyume’s obi. “He’s so tiny!” Gekido finally snapped and snatched up the alarmed pug, grinning like an overexcited kid.  “What are his strengths?” “Sass and insults, you ridiculous man!” Pakkun returned angrily, as he struggled against Gekido’s tight nose-to-nose hold.  “Have you no shame?!” “Not that we’ve been able to find, no,” Miriyume quipped, before grunting in obvious discomfort as her mother tightened the obi under her bustline with a sharp tug.  “Ugh....can’t....breathe....” she groaned dramatically, as she clutched at Hiruzen’s shoulder.  “I think Mother is trying to tourniquet my stomach....” The Hokage blushed at the sudden proximity of Miriyume’s impressive cleavage, now threatening to overcome its confines with every heaving breath she was dragging into her constricted lungs, and averted his eyes. “Or, more likely, Renara-sama is showing concern for her....precious daughter,” Sarutobi offered, biting his lip in self chastisement. Kurenai had to laugh at his ethical plight.  Kakashi was just agog, showing a strange lack of concern for his clearly annoyed ninken. “Unhand me already, you whiskey-steeped lout!” Pakkun barked at the besotted Inuzuka’s affections,  “Your breath is going to make me intoxicated!  Kakashi!  A little help!  Please?” Kakashi turned back toward the overly enamoured Inuzuka, and extended his hand in the manner of a parent silently demanding the relinquish of an ill-gotten toy.  Gekido capitulated with an awkward apology: “Sorry.  I got a little carried away there,” he admitted with a sheepish teheparo gesture. “I never got to see any of the smaller dog breeds up in Shimogakure....” “Understood, Gekido-san,” Kakashi forgave easily.  “Pakkun is dangerously adorable,” scratching him behind his floppy ear. “Much to my eternal sorrow,” Pakkun added, from the safety of Kakashi’s shoulder, as a fleeting wisp of scent caught his attention. Somewhere beneath the malty aroma of the abundant whiskey, and the alluring, earthy-honey smell of an amber perfume, there was a very distinct and telling fragrance on the buxom ginger in the midnight blue yukata beside the Hokage.  He figured Kakashi should know: “It would seem that Kakashi-san is not the only one who is capable of summoning jutsu,” the pug announced, looking directly at Miriyume.  “I can smell the contract you have with a denizen of the Cat Fortress, bosomy lady.” “Pakkun!” Kakashi scolded sharply, as his exposed cheek went scarlet.  Gekido collapsed against the bar in whiskey-fueled laughter. “Do you now?” Miriyume countered coyly, as her mind raced for a way to cover her ninneko’s careless tracks.  She really didn’t want to involve ‘him’ in this mess, but, this little ninken had called her out.... She reached into her brasserie, under her left breast, against her heart, to a place that she reserved for her most prized possession, and produced a cobalt summoning scroll ornamented in gold. Kakashi’s mask conveniently hid his slack jaw, and the trickle of blood from his nostrils. Miriyume held the scroll up to the pug’s nose for inspection.  “Would you like an introduction?” Within the envelope of the woman’s heady, earthy musk, Pakkun’s nose easily found the scent of ‘cat’, but not ‘that cat’.  He was still intrigued. Hiruzen chuckled, as he sipped his tea.  “Go on, Miriyume-chan.  I’d enjoy seeing the ‘noble exile’ again...” Miriyume complied by unfurling the scroll, pricking her finger with a senbon hair ornament, pressing the small wound to the scroll surface, then slapping her hand against the nearby counter top and yelling: “Cold Majesty Summoning!” Following a burst of rolling fog that provided a moment of crisp, cool air, a mighty roar caused all but Renara, Hiruzen and Miriyume to jump away from the bar.  When the mist dissipated, there stood a large, regal white tiger upon the rough-hewn oak. “A tiger-lord?!” Pakkun openly marveled from his perch on Kakashi’s shoulder. “That I am, little ninken,” the immense feline acknowledged in a deep, rumbling voice with an imperious lilt, as he reclined on the bar top, and turned his icy-blue eyes to his summoner.  “To what do I owe this summons, my lady?” “No good reason, Tosho-sama,” Miriyume smiled, as she put an arm over his burly neck, and began to massage one of his ears, which he seemed deeply appreciative of.

Pakkun was impressed.  Ninneko were elusive enough, but the Great Cat Lords were nearly impossible to track down, much less sign into a contract with. “Who is this woman who has made a contract with such a distinguished beast lord?” Pakkun quietly asked his master. “That, my impudent friend, is Miriyume,” Kakashi replied with a wink.  “...and your assignment for the rest of the night.” “Assignment?” the pug echoed. “I need to get some sleep tonight, so I’m putting you on guard duty, until morning,” Kakashi whispered, as they watched her introduce the tiger to Kurenai. “So...this is the kunoichi you found all those years ago in the Land of Frost?” Pakkun connected.  “The one that....” “She is,” the silver-haired jonin cut off, clearly pained by the memories of that day.  “It wasn’t her death that the village was mourning.  It was her brother’s.” “So why didn’t they tell us that?” “Because of their customs,” Kakashi explained.  “I’ll explain it all later, but right now, the important thing is to keep track of her at all times.  Understand?  Asaito’s already tried to corner her once.  I don’t want it happening again.” “Understood,” Pakkun returned glumly, as he watched Miriyume and the grabby Inuzuka salute each other with more of that nose-burning whiskey, drinking it as easily as ice water on a hot day.  “But...she looks like trouble.” “I know....” Kakashi murmured ardently.  “My favorite kind of trouble.”

“Rajin isn’t pleased, Persimmon-chan,” Tosho rumbled in his softest voice, using the moniker his original contract holder had labeled her with.  He was the only one she allowed to use that name. “What’s news-worthy about that?” Miriyume scoffed, as she replaced his summoning scroll in her bra. “Neither am I,” the tiger huffed.  “I made a vow, Miriyume-san, and I intend on keeping it.” “Glad to hear it, Stripes,” Miriyume returned, as she scratched the spot under his chin that his massive paw could never seem to reach, “....because tomorrow’s the big day.” “Forgive me if the fact fails to evoke the proper sense of jubilation on my part...” Prince Tosho grumbled, as he turned his glacial-hued eyes toward the approaching half-blindfolded man carrying the pygmy-sized ninken. “Your offering is appreciated, shinobi of the Hidden Leaf,” the great cat greeted, “But I don’t partake of the flesh of canines.  Moro-sama would never forgive me for eating any of her kin, no matter how....distant.” Kakashi blinked in confused shock, while Pakkun curled up tighter against his chest in horror. “That’s not why I–“ Kakashi began, before Miriyume cuffed the haughty tiger on his ear. “And that’s why I hardly ever call on you anymore!” Ice Flame scolded the 800-pound creature in the same manner she would a common house cat. “I’m sorry,” Miriyume turned back to Kakashi.  “That’s what passes for humor with this overgrown tabby!  He’s actually pretty good company, most of the time.  And an excellent shoji player...” “If only the same could be said for even a fraction of those you call friends....” the tiger continued. “Even if he is a snob!” Miriyume shot back, prompting the tiger to seek other company. “He’s harmless, I promise,” the kunoichi assured, and motioned them closer.  “But he makes me admire the straightforwardness of ninken.  Can I hold him?” referring to Pakkun. Kakashi handed him over, and watched as she placed him on her lap.  Her pale, supple fingers set to immediate work on his folded ears, turning him to instant putty in her hands. “Now, that doesn’t happen too often,” Kakashi informed, as he watched the pug roll over onto his belly with a small pang of envy.  “You must have a way with animals.” “My chakra run-off charms most living things,” she returned, as she began to massage the pug’s paw-pads, which Pakkun had always been rather stingy with.  “Its convincing them to stick around that’s the hard part.” Kakashi heard the note of lament in the casual admission. Was that what had prompted her to accept the proposal of this repugnant man?  A fear of eventual abandonment?  Despite all evidence to the contrary? Kakashi staged a silent aknowledgement of the crowd for the kunoichi holding Pakkun, before stating his case: “Is this small swarm being held against their will...?” She paused in her dog snuggling to give him a measured glare.  “It’s a documented fact that most people tire of me.  Even kidnappers.” “Well,” wedging himself between Miriyume and Aoseishin, who was sitting on the stool beside her, as Gekido sang with a group of musicians on the bar, “...I’m not going anywhere, now that I’ve finally found you again,” Kakashi assured. In that moment, Miriyume felt her swiftly crumbling guard completely slip, and her dojutsu activate.  All faded to silence as past, present and future melded abruptly into one reality, and it prominently featured this enigmatic man seated beside her.  His candid promise echoed across Time and Space itself, as she felt his perfectly complementary essence take firm anchor in her own.   The true power of the Renkingen was to explore all possibilities of various fusions, and to instantly understand the consequences.  Her intuitive eyes had just shown her that this man was everything she needed to realize perfect happiness, in both the mortal and spiritual sense. <How dare you come to me now, when circumstance forbids me to grab hold of you and demand you to stay!> she screamed inwardly, as the man beside her regarded her curiously with his lone eye.   In him alone, she saw all the pieces of the masculine soul that she had always yearned to find in a mate: her first teacher’s wisdom, her father’s strength, her team mates’ compassion, Raijin’s stoic ardor and grace, her brother’s devotion and genius, all wrapped up in one irksome masked gift pack... Her mind also told her about how ridiculously dangerous it would be to have it known that she felt this way.  Dangerous for both her quickly pending marriage, and Kakashi himself.  Asaito was a proud man, and prone to what had been once charitably described as “deranged fits of vengeful pique”.  

And in classic Yaseiarashi fashion, fear only bloomed in her heart when those she loved were at incredible risk.  The thought of him at Asaito’s non-existent mercy could put her in a perilously awkward bind.  No. Asaito’s focus had to remain on her... But that other Yaseiarashi trait....about never denying her true feelings; most importantly, love, was causing an internal war within her.  The fate of international relations was at stake here, along with her sanity.

[sumigakure]

Photogenic

Fanfiction, A03, Original Post

Rating: T, maybe teen plus? Is that a thing?  Words: 2700  Summary:  Halloween party prompt fill. In which Gai dresses as Kakahi and gets all the girls while Genma sulks (but not for too long). Genma/Kakashi pairing implied  Pairing: Genma/Kakashi   Warning: Mild language, Genma warning, implied adult situations  Author’s Note: This is a prompt fill for Sumigakure’s Halloween Event on tumblr. Prompt 10: Halloween Party. It’s not what I planned at all but Genma and Sukea stole the show, so sorry not sorry?

“You can not go as a ninja,” Genma grumbled. “The whole point of Halloween is to be someone different.”

“I’m not just going as any ninja,” Gai said dramatically, spinning in a circle to present his former teammate with a characteristic thumbs up. “I’m a copy of the Copy Ninja.”

For once, Gai had forgone his green jumpsuit in favor of the standard issue jonin blues and green flak vest. The leg weights or leg warmers, Genma was never quite sure which, were missing as well. A matching blue headband slanted over Gai’s left eye while his face hid behind a half mask. Somehow, the jonin had managed to frost his dark hair to silver, and copious amounts of hairspray held it upright. In poor lighting, and with enough alcohol, he might possibly pass for Kakashi. At least, until he opened his mouth.

While Genma had opted for a more tradition costume, he’d gone overboard as usual. Anko had showed him a contouring trick that paled his skin, made his cheekbones more prominent, and drew attention to his hazel eyes. While, make-up wasn’t normally his thing, Genma decided Halloween could be an exception. Both iconic bandana and senbon were missing, which almost never happened, and Genma’s brown hair had been slicked back from his face.

The tokujo toyed with the buttons of his shirt, undoing two, then redoing the lowest. The white fabric hugged his muscles, and the open collar provided a peek at the black choker around his throat. His black pants were tight enough that Genma practically had to shimmy into them, and he wasn’t entirely sure that he could get them back off. But if the night went the way he was planning, that wouldn’t be his problem anyway.

���Kakashi is going to flip when he sees you,” Genma said as he pulled on a deep crimson vest, then a high collared cape. He’d selected one that was short enough to show off his most valuable asset. There would be no point in tight pants if he hid behind a cape. Pearly fangs peeked through Genma’s wine colored lips, and he clicked them together, grinning. These were almost as good as senbon.

Gai paused in the middle of one-legged squats when Genma’s words finally sank home. “You think my eternal rival will challenge me to a contest of flips? We haven’t done that one yet.”

Genma shook his head, not bothering to explain the idiom to the other man. “We’re already late, let’s just go.”

Music reached Genma’s ears long before he found the place the Halloween Party was supposed to be held. Since it had taken him longer to get ready than he’d planned, the room was already full of people. A civilian in an ANBU costume greeted Genma and Gai as soon as they stepped through the door. Genma could tell by the muscle tone of her bared arms that she wasn’t shinobi, but the tightness of her shirt more than made up for that. Perhaps the most surprising thing about her, however, was that she flirted with Gai, rather than Genma. Her hand rested on his arm, and she trilled with laughter over something that Genma was ninety-five percent sure wasn’t funny.

Oh Kami, she really believes it’s Kakashi, Genma realized with a start. He wasn’t about to try and explain the woman’s mistake.

A cursory glance around the room revealed several familiar faces. The hulking mass of werewolf leaning against the wall next to a petite mummy had to be Asuma and Kurenai. Their bodies were far too close for friendship, no matter what they claimed. Anko stood by the drinks, skin green with makeup and red with fake wounds to make her look like a ghoul. At least, Genma thought they were fake; shinobi lead difficult lives, the scars might have been her own. Her outfit, some kind of wrappings that looked like cobwebs, managed to be more revealing than her normal attire.

Extracting Gai from the “ANBU” temporarily, Genma dragged him deeper into the room. As he navigated through the sea of disguised yet recognizable faces, he found himself looking for Kakashi. It wasn’t that Genma had spent extra time getting ready because he thought Kakashi might be here. It definitely wasn’t that Genma wanting the man to see him in something other than his uniform. He just wanted to see the Copy Nin’s face-well his eye-when he saw Gai’s costume. That was all.

Anko grinned at Genma as she handed him a red plastic cup of some sugar laced concoction that was supposed to pass for punch. Her eyes swept over the vampire from head to toe. “You’re almost pretty enough to taste my blood instead of the other way around.”

“Almost,” Genma returned with a chuckle. Though he was rougher than average in the bedroom, he had never understood the woman’s fascination with blood.

Gai huffed in annoyance as he looked at the cup in his hand. “How does my eternal rival manage to drink things?”

“Carefully,” Genma responded absently. His attention was focused on two pretty women who were watching he and Gai from across the room. One was dressed in a skintight, black bodysuit with cat ears nestled in her raven hair, and the other wore a nurse’s outfit like nothing he’d ever seen on a medical nin. If they instituted that uniform, Genma would have allowed himself be injured far more often. “Do you have a preference of the two?” He nodded his chin toward the women while sipping his drink.

Gai’s visible eye moved to the women, then he seemed to realize what Genma was asking. “It’s unfair to pick a favorite. Surely each flower has its own uniqueness.”

To halt the laughter threatening to spill out, Genma drained his cup. Gai certainly didn’t mean flowers in the sense Genma was thinking, but maybe after tonight, he would. The tokujo refilled his cup before leading his friend over to the women. When their eyes drifted past him to Gai, Genma felt a sinking feeling in his gut. Not again.

“You’re the Copy Ninja aren’t you?” Cat giggled as Nurse moved closer to Gai, touching his chest. Gai mumbled some kind of response that sounded vaguely Kakashi-like and the girls laughed again.

“You’re so pretty you don’t even need a costume, do you?” Nurse asked and Genma almost threw up in his mouth.

After ten minutes, he realized that neither woman knew he existed and excused himself to get another drink.

“Aw, are you feeling left out?” Anko purred, moving closer to Genma’s side. “Look at Gai though,” she nodded to where a third woman had joined his harem.

Genma snorted. “How can they really believe he’s Kakashi?” He finished another glass of the fruity, fizzy nonsense Anko was serving.

After sipping her own drink, the woman shrugged. “Because Kakashi isn’t here, and I doubt he would bother with dressing up if he were.”

Anko rolled her eyes, and pointed out some of the better costumes. A painfully pretty “Madara” stood beside a geisha, chatting easily. Near one of the walls, an unfamiliar boy was dressed entirely in brown with his long hair dyed green. Flowers and branches had been worked through it. The best thing Genma could figure was that he was supposed to be a tree. A shock of silver-white hair caught Genma’s attention, and temporarily stopped his heart, but it was only someone pretending to Tobirama, red marks and all.

“Who’s that?” Genma nodded toward a stranger in jeans, a long grey jacket, and a blue scarf wrapped around his neck.

Anko shrugged. “Some kind of photographer, I think. He said something about capturing memories for future generation when he came to get a drink.”

The pair watched the man move around the room, easily snapping pictures of couples and individuals. A few men and women paused and struck up a conversation with him, but he gracefully slid away from mos. Even the damn photographer, who hadn’t bothered with a costume, was getting more attention than Genma.

“I want some consideration too. Dammit, I worked hard on this makeup,” Genma sulked. Anko flashed an amused smiled, but wisely didn’t say anything.

The later it got, the rowdier the party became. Kakashi-Gai had half a dozen women around him and the cute photographer was talking with Tree Boy, and it looked an awful lot like flirting to Genma. They stood nearly as close as Asuma and Kurenai has been earlier. Speaking of that, the werewolf and mummy were slumped together in a corner of the room, making out in clear view of everyone. So much for secrets, Genma thought. In fact, several couples were doing the same thing around the room. That seemed a bad idea, but Genma couldn’t remember why and was too busy pouting to bother with it anyway. The man who always had a lover on his arm didn’t even have a prospective, and Kakashi still hadn’t shown up.

For some reason, probably jealousy, Genma’s hazel eyes kept being drawn back to the photographer. He’d moved away from Tree Boy and was leaning against the wall by himself now. Surprisingly, nobody moved in to exploit his time, though he’d hardly been alone all evening.

“Why don’t you just go talk to him. If you stare any harder-” Anko’s face scrunched up as she tried to figure out what she wanted to say, then she giggled.

Genma’s mouth fell open, and he nearly lost his fangs in shock. Anko was capable of a wide range of sounds, from menacing laughter to the edge of insanity chuckle, but giggles weren’t in her arsenal. “What’s gotten into you?” He was terrified of the answer.

Anko stumbled two steps toward the table and refilled her glass. “I may have spiked the punch, just a little bit.”

“How much is a little bit?” Genma glanced at the massive cauldron sized bowl they’d been filling their glasses from.

Anko giggled again, and Genma felt his stomach drop. “A bottle, or two. Maybe three. No more than four.”

That would explain the behavior happening around the room from the frantic making out and the number of couples stumbling out together. The Madara and Tobirama he’d seen earlier were dancing in way that looked more suited to the bedroom than the dance floor. Genma’s eyes widened as far as they would go when he found his former teammate. Gai and Cat girl were making out against a wall and there was far too much enthusiastic hand movements happening. Genma felt his stomach heave, but maybe that was the effects of the alcohol, he’d certainly drank too much.

Since he’d had enough of being alone with Anko and her poisonous drinks, Genma wandered off after throwing his cup away. The photographer stood alone still, surveying the scene around him with a calm demeanor. He probably hadn’t drank as much as everyone else since he was working. As he walked toward the man, Genma put on his most endearing smile. “Do I know you?” That was terrible as far as pickup lines went, but Genma couldn’t bring himself to care.

“Maybe, maybe not.” Amusement filled the man’s unfamiliar voice. In a rush of overconfidence that was typical of Genma, he pressed closer to the photographer. Close enough for the faint scent of cologne to make his head spin, and to feel the tight muscles in the man’s forearm. “My name’s Sukea, by the way. Can I help you?”

“Do you want to go home with me?” Somehow, the normally smooth lines that were life to Genma fled, and he said the first thing that popped into his mind.

The man laughed, and his dark eyes appraised Genma’s body. While it was slightly uncomfortable, Genma wasn’t intimidated. He hadn’t been cursed with false modesty; he knew he looked good in his costume. “You’re quite forward with someone you’ve just met. You haven’t even offered me a drink yet.”

“Anko spiked the punch,” Genma confided a couple octaves louder than he meant to.

Sukea laughed. “I know, but I think I might need a drink before I let you take me home.”

Genma frowned. Sukea was pretty enough to be tempting, and it didn’t look like Kakashi was going to show up. Why not, whispered the voice that got him in trouble far more often than it helped him. Genma didn’t want all of his hard work on the costume and makeup to be for nothing, after all.

As they turned back toward the table and the drinks, Genma felt a hand ghost across his back then slide lower. Sukea leaned closer to whisper by his ear. “Do you have a pretty boyfriend I need to be worried about? Or girlfriend?”

“Would you be dissuaded if I said yes?” Genma turned back to the man and clicked his fangs together. They weren’t as good as his senbon, but they were fun in a different way. Heat entered the man’s gaze as he followed the movement with dark eyes.

“No,” Sukea chuckled, and it almost sounded familiar. Before Genma could figure out why, the man snaked an arm around his waist and pulled Genma close, pressing their lips together.

Breathlessly, Genma returned the kiss and leaned into Sukea. The hard muscles of the man’s chest met Genma’s, and he groaned in surprise. Another vague thought formed in the back of his mind, something about the fact that this man must work out harder than most shinobi, but Sukea’s skilled fingers caressing Genma’s back chased the thought away.

“I thought you needed a drink,” Genma breathed as they broke apart, his voice trembling slightly. He had been completely unprepared for the kiss, or for the electricity it sparked through his entire body.

“You kiss better than I thought you would,” Sukea growled softly, desire obvious in his voice as he trapped Genma from moving too far away.

Genma chuckled. “Wait until I get you home and show you what else I can do.”

Tugging his hand, Genma led the man from the room. Kakashi doesn’t know what he missed out on, Genma thought as he and Sukea stumbled into his apartment a few minutes later.

The next morning, Genma woke to an empty bed and a pounding headache. Groaning, he tried to recall the previous night, but it came in disconnected snippets. He’d definitely brought Sukea back to his apartment. He vaguely recalled that his fangs had left the man whimpering for more. The pants had been as difficult to get off as Genma feared, but Sukea solved that problem with a kunai. Genma could still see the tatters of black fabric on the floor by the bed, along with the buttons where the man had been impatient to get Genma’s shirt off.

There had been a moment, when they were wrapped around each other that Sukea whispered Genma’s name and he felt a flicker of something inside his chest. There had been multiple times during the night that Genma thought he was figuring something out, but Sukea was a distraction of the best kind and the alcohol made it too difficult for him to remember. Instead, Genma tugged the blankets back around him and fell back to sleep.

It wouldn’t be for another couple of years that Genma saw Sukea again. He, along with Kakashi’s genin, were in trouble for trying to break into the records room. Standing guard outside the Hokage’s office, he saw the man and felt the way that Sukea’s eyes lingered on him.

The hazy memories fit themselves back together like perfect puzzle pieces. The laughter could have only been Kakashi’s, the desperate caress as he whispered Genma’s name now sounded familiar. How it had taken him this long to put two and two together, Genma had no idea. Dark eyes met his, and “Sukea” smiled. Against all odds, Genma blushed and held his silence.

When Genma went back to his apartment later that evening, there was a envelop shoved under the door. A single picture of Genma nestled inside. He was lying in bed, brown hair falling over his eyes, with the sheets tangled around his legs. Though he was obviously undressed beneath the blankets, the photo only exposed his back and arms. It had been captured with just enough light to soften Genma’s features even more than the makeup had. Holding the photograph loosely, the man couldn’t help but laugh. Apparently Kakashi was as good at photography as he was in bed.