#if there's something I can thank kishi for is that he never tried to make it look believable | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

the-darklings · 4 years

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—𝒃𝒆 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒎𝒚 𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒔 𝒓𝒆𝒎𝒆𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓'𝒅;

—PART XV. | BE ALL MY SINS REMEMBER’D

pairing: john wick x f!reader x santino d’antonio

word count: 20k+ (the longest yeah boi ever)

summary: “One day you will thank me for this.”

warnings: PTSD, unhealthy coping mechanisms, self-destructive behaviour (aka your girl is absolutely going through it but it will get better), angst, swearing, some suggestive stuff happens in this one.

notes: might have taken 3 weeks & lots of rage but WELCOME TO CHICAGO PART 1!

children of ares series: 01 | …. | 13 | 14 | . . | 16 |

gif credit (x)

“Father, please—”

“Quiet.”

He doesn’t raise his voice. That’s the worst thing. He doesn’t have to. One word and it’s like the air has been sucked out of the room.

You look towards Gianna but she looks only at her father, her expression blank.

Cassian is tense as a bowstring next to her. There is conflict in his expression but he is Camorra. He is sworn in and regardless of the friendship you’ve built—

“You will depart this household at once,” Giovanni says and steps closer towards you. His eyes are pitch-black. “Let’s see how long you last, viper. Your protection that was so kindly bestowed upon you by my son is hereby terminated.”

“Father, I can vouch—”

“I said quiet,” he speaks again, colder this time, and Santino’s mouth snaps shut at once. “You have done plenty already. I’ve just about had enough of your decadence, boy.”

Then, Giovanni D’Antonio’s head slants towards you again and he regards you like he’s considering whether it would be easier to kill you here and now or later.

“Hector.”

A dark shadow moves from behind the Camorra head, always the obedient dog, and halts at his side. Step is staring at the floor, stricken. Julian’s eyes are full of sadness, his shoulders curved downwards. Dario’s lips are pressed into an unhappy line, his knuckles popping from under his skin. None of them move or interfere. They know better than that. They are Giovanni’s men. They owe no loyalty to you.

“Yes, capo?”

“Get her out of my sight.”

Hector moves without hesitation. You don’t try to fight him when he grips your forearm, his cool rings pressing into the flesh of your skin.

Your eyes find Santino’s across the room. His jaw is clenched so tightly you can almost hear the grind of his teeth but he’s silent.

Something crumbles in your chest.

You had hoped that maybe—

“Move it, sweetheart.”

You turn to go.

“If you take so much as another step, Santino,” Giovanni’s merciless, soft voice reaches your ears and you almost halt. “The consequences that will follow will be of your own making.”

Silence greets every echoing step after that and no one tries to stop you.

Alone.

Again.

[NEW YORK CITY, 3.5 YEARS AGO]

Your eyes crack open and for a moment all you can see is blurred, muted colours above you.

The Continental room ceiling greets you like an old friend.

The sour odour of herbs and old sweat mixes in the air when you try to inhale and your face scrunches in disgust.

Your skin feels dirty and cold to the touch. You’ve spent the last several hours on the floor no doubt sweating out the toxins in your body while going through several fits.

Wrong dosage. Again.

Trying and failing to roll onto your side, you huff a weak breath. Your throat feels raw and dry and you ignore the painful cramping of your stomach.

The elixir wasn’t clear enough again. You’ve spent almost two days trying to distil it till it was clear enough to mix and used the best alcohol you could find in the city—

Shit.

It doesn’t matter, you think and close your eyes again. You’re still delirious but there’s always tomorrow.

Welcome back, Kishi murmurs lovingly into your ear the moment darkness appears behind your eyelids.

Your nightmares begin moments later.

You heave painfully, your shoulders curving harshly as you gasp for breath.

Wrong fucking dosage.

And too many zootoxins. Goddamn viper venom. Goddamn stupid chemistry. Acetylcholinesterases must be having a field day ravaging through your body as you stay curled pathetically over the toilet, losing whatever little water you had consumed in the last several hours.

Pathetic, Kishi hums from beside you, his ghostly hands caressing your hair soothingly. No wonder he left you. No wonder he doesn’t love you.

“Shut up.”

You suppose the blood you see should concern you.

It doesn’t.

You’ve kept the dress you wore to his wedding.

It still smells like him.

It torments you as much as it gives you comfort.

Foxglove is a remarkably beautiful flower.

It’s also a rather deadly, beautiful flower.

Cardiac glycoside.

Interesting.

You scribble a new formula, your brain aching but still functional after your last failure.

Too obvious? Perhaps. It lacks finesse, sure.

But you don’t care much for finesse anymore.

You just want results. And you will get them. Even if it means bleeding yourself and this world dry to get them.

You hate so beautifully, Kishi compliments with a sigh, his dark eyes glimmering in the low light.

You simply prepare yourself for another count of agony.

Such is the price to pay for power.

The dress doesn’t even smell like him anymore. It’s been months.

You still like to pretend that it does.

John.

You turn the viper ring on your hand.

John.

He’s not coming back, Kishi tells you from beside you and you both ignore how his throat spills blood. He doesn’t care about you. No one does.

“I know.”

His rough fingers caress your cheek.

You might be crying but you can’t be sure.

You’re at the bottom of the pit and there is nothing but darkness and quiet here.

Even if you wanted to get up. You don’t think you can.

You don’t want to, either.

Easier…

Easier to let things wither and die.

But I’m with you. I will never leave you, little viper. I will hate you forever.

Kishi rolls over, his fingers wrapping around your throat, his mouth a sneer, and his eyes dark. His throat is open, gushing, and red rains everywhere.

His hands tighten around your throat.

You don’t try to stop him.

Freezing water splashes against your face and body.

You wake up with a strangled scream, scrambling across the dirty floor.

A puddle of sick lays not too far from you and you blink away the wooziness, trying to locate a weapon. Your heart sits in your throat as you attempt to find the culprit, too, and your eyebrows knit when your eyes snag onto two men standing before you.

“Oh, good. You’re still alive,” Winston drawls, a hint of coldness lacing his scornful tone. “Saves us the trouble of cleaning up.”

Charon says nothing but the bucket in his hand paints him as the guilty party.

You try to wipe the water from your eyes but it takes several tries to lift your hands to your face due to muscle weakness.

“What—”

A weak croak and you pause, forcing your unused vocal cords to work.

Winston looks away as if he can’t bear the sight of you and approaches the window, pulling back the curtains with a swift jerk. Light explodes across the room and you flinch, ducking your head down as you block it with your palm.

“What are you…doing here?” you finally force out, your throat sore and blood stinging your tongue.

Ulcers from the chemicals. Great.

“Considering that no one has heard from you in days, and you won’t let anyone inside without a threat of violence,” the manager explains, every word as icy as the last. “That left me with little choice but to check on you myself by forced entry. Do you plan to waste away here forever?”

The window opens with a crack and you shoot a glare towards Charon who moves around the room calmly. He opens doors and windows, letting the room air and you scowl at them both, still curled on the floor.

Your body aches and your muscles feel shaky with exhaustion. You haven’t left your room in days though. How funny it is that you feel more exhausted now than when you used to do jobs back to back with little sleep and danger around every corner.

“Get showered and dressed,” Winston instructs sternly, glancing at you only briefly and something in your stomach twists. Are you truly that repulsive to him that— “I expect you downstairs in ten minutes. Charon, handle the rest.”

“Certainly, sir.”

Winston only manages a handful of steps before your choked words stop him dead, “You’re not my father. Don’t order me around.”

With your head bowed, you imagine your glare is even more vicious when he eventually does look back at you. His own expression is cool, composed as always, and he hums thoughtfully.

“No, I’m not,” he agrees easily, his expression as hard as his voice. “And be glad for it. Because I reassure you that if you were, I would not be putting up with this behaviour. Ten minutes, dear.”

Then he’s gone, and the distant clank of his shoes fades down the corridor.

You wish that didn’t sting but it does.

The first sip scorches through your throat and you choke down a mouthful, pulling the glass away from your lips with a grimace.

“What the hell is this?”

“Bruichladdich.”

Ignoring the agony in your mouth, you scowl at the man before you, and force yourself to take another sip. Winston’s frown deepens as he watches you shrewdly over his glasses. You don’t care much for it. With how strong this drink is, it will probably knock you out with a few more sips and that’s the goal. Better than whatever the hell this is.

Intervention, little viper, Kishi speaks from beside you and this time you almost jump for a different reason. Kishi and his torture belong in the pit with the rest of you. Not here.

The lounge is suspiciously empty as you and Winston sit facing each other on twin leather sofas. In fact, only Charon lingers by the bar and you know that Continental lounge is rarely this quiet.

“May I ask what it is, exactly, that you’ve been doing as of late?”

The question is restrained but something simmers in that gaze as he pins you under his heavy scrutiny.

“Working.”

Winston’s eyebrows jump. “Oh! Working. Is that what you call it?” he wonders coolly. “Because from where I’m sitting, it looks to me like you’re just poisoning yourself repeatedly.”

Scoffing, you lower the glass and ignore the frailness of your own grip. Your longer than usual nails tap against the glass and you force yourself to swallow over the pain in your mouth. Your tongue keeps poking at the little wound inside your cheek and a sting of copper follows swiftly after.

Your hands are as cold as your feet. Your hair still damp from a quick wash in the sink—because there is no way you could have forced yourself to shower today of all days—sits around your head like a crown of black ice.

Just like when I drowned you over and over again, Kishi recalls happily and you grit your teeth, turning to face the fireplace and soaking in its warmth.

“That’s how Mithridatism works, Winston,” you inform him, your voice still a husky, raw mess and you swallow another mouthful even though the drink goes down like a hot knife. Better to feel this pain. Something to ground you. “It doesn’t happen overnight.”

“Oh, I’m perfectly aware of how it works,” the man barely waits long enough for you to finish before speaking and you fall silent. “It’s an art of discipline and brilliance. Given a different set of circumstances, I might have even praised you on your foresight. However, given how idiotically reckless you are being that can wait.”

Your grip on the glass tightens and you drag your attention back towards him.

“Why am I here?”

“It’s your birthday,” he says tightly, his eyes flashing. “But you had no idea, did you?”

Oh.

No—no, you didn’t.

Time has become…nothing.

A stream of existing and not existing. Of being lost, adrift.

You miss the sun.

You miss the dream that you could belong. That you could be a part of something and have companionship and trust.

You miss him.

John. Your John.

You miss him so much it makes you feel sick with longing for something that will never be yours again. He’s happy. Happy without you.

“I know what I’m doing.”

Quiet, hollow words. You both know that.

“You’re killing yourself.”

There it is. The thing he’s been trying to avoid voicing out loud.

His words devour everything. Even Charon goes quiet behind the bar and you stare at the manager blankly.

Raising your trembling hand, you drown another gulp of your drink before placing the glass on the table and standing unsteadily to your feet.

“No one would care anyway.”

You step past him.

“You have no idea how wrong you are,” he calls after you, his mild words full of something you don’t dare to class as concern. Not from a man like him. “Don’t let it consume you,” he adds, quieter, when you fail to respond.

You don’t reply to that, either.

Nor do you believe him.

You find flowers in your room the next day. You had planned to get them for research into a potential paralyser formula that’s been knocking around your mind for a while now.

There is no note attached to them.

But you don’t need it to know where they came from.

You suppose it should make you happy.

But there is nothing inside your chest.

Some nights it feels like your bones are made out of all the nightmares living underneath your skin.

Some nights you think you will swim.

Other nights you think you will drown.

And you know all about drowning.

Humming weakly, you shake the vial in your hand till the liquid inside goes from dark blue to red.

Finally.

It’s a potent, haunting sort of colour. Thick and striking as it rolls in the confines of the glass it’s encased in. It reminds you of—

Just like when you tore my throat out, Kishi mutters in wonder, leaning his face closer as he squints at the vial. Shoulder to shoulder. Your only companion. I bled red just like it.

He’s still bleeding. He hasn’t stopped bleeding. He will never stop bleeding.

And you can still taste it in your mouth. Except you’re no longer sure if it’s his blood or yours.

Toying with the pencil between your fingers, you roughly cross out Baba Yaga and write Kishi on top of the crumpled sheet of paper instead.

Then you tilt your head back and drown it whole.

There is everything and then there is nothing.

Distant voices. Urgent. Hands on you. Shaking, pulling.

Then nothing again.

“—cannot go on like this—”

“—there is nothing you can do, sir—”

“—dead soon—called—only option—”

“—use her—can’t—he will not—”

“He will.”

You wake up bathed in sunlight.

It almost makes you cry because for a moment you can’t help but think that you’re dead.

A faint rustle of paper reaches you, and you slant your head weakly.

Winston sits on an expensive leather armchair, his legs crossed and pen between his fingers.

This isn’t the hospital wing that lives beneath the ground floor of the hotel.

You know this room.

You just can’t believe the man next to you is sitting here with you.

“I wasn’t trying to kill myself,” is the first thing to leave your mouth. A half-forced whisper on your tender throat. “I wasn’t.”

It’s true.

But you have no idea how to convince him of it.

The air seems thick with a thousand unsaid things and Winston lowers the newspaper from his face, taking off his glasses and placing both on his lap.

His expression is empty as he examines you.

You curl further into the clean, crisp sheets around you as the silence continues. An IV is attached to your arm and you cringe at the sight of it. Your skin is suddenly so itchy you want to tear it away from you but know better than to try.

“I know you weren’t,” the man voices, at last, his words steady. “You were punishing yourself instead. That’s what this is about, isn’t it? You believe that you’re not good enough—that you are deserving of pain. Better to make yourself hurt than to let anyone else do it. Am I wrong?”

Your eyes sting but you don’t speak, staring at his gleaming shoes.

“Are you hoping that you will drown everything else out?” he questions but it’s not accusatory. If anything he sounds like he’s trying to engage with you in a way no one has before. “Never give someone else the power to destroy you. Hurting yourself will not erase what happened to you at Tokyo nor will it bring Jonathan back,” he continues, his voice grim after several moments of deafening silence between you.

You flinch at the name, your eyes closing in shame as moisture clings to your lashes.

Curtains flutter in the slight breeze.

Why did he bring you here?

“You will be staying here from now on.”

Your eyes fly open and your head snaps to him as panic fills your veins. “No—you—you can’t kick me out,” you mumble thickly, trying to rise, your fingers tangling between the sheets. You try and fail. “I pay for my stay. I—I haven’t broken any rules. You—”

Please, don’t throw me out. Please. I have nowhere else to go.

Winston’s expression creases. “I am not throwing you out,” he pacifies quietly but a shadow seems to have settled across his weathered features. “You are welcome to come back whenever you can afford it again.”

Your eyebrows furrow, and noting your confusion the man continues with a twist of his lips that would be biting normally, “When was the last time you picked up a contract, dear? It’s been months. Viggo Tarasov never gave you much to begin with and now…well. Your account ran dry two weeks ago. You likely have another two weeks at best before the Russian comes looking for you. He will expect you to pay up. It’s rather good that you already have your next job lined up though.”

That gives you a pause.

“What?”

Some of your panic has retreated but in its place blooms unease.

Winston tuts and stands to his feet. The newspaper is still in his hand and he slips his glasses into his pocket.

The look he gives you next makes you feel like you will have no choice but to comply with whatever he says next.

“You already know where you are,” he tells you knowingly, his eyebrow arching slightly. “Your employer is ready to see you.”

Santino D’Antonio hasn’t changed since the last time you saw him.

Which was before John and his wife. Before the wedding.

It was the night you decided to take a leap and hope for the best with your decision to come back to New York. Not like you could stay in Rome. Not with Camorra protection null and void.

Not with Tarasov demanding payment as usual.

Last time you saw him, Santino offered you to go to Paris with him. His own version of an apology. For not doing more to stop Giovanni. But no one could. The entire room could have stood in defence of you and it still won’t have changed a damn thing.

Last time you saw him, he had taken your hand in his and with that familiar arrogance and burning eyes and kissed your knuckles, asking only one question, “Come away with me, cara mia?”

You had refused him then.

And you would still refuse him now.

You will always refuse him because he’s not John.

That thought makes something deep down ache.

The Italian rises when he sees you emerge onto the terrace.

Your arm is hooked around Winston’s as you walk. Normally, you might have commented on how seeing the manager of all the people here is hilarious. You know that there is no love lost between the two so the fact that they have gone through the trouble of collaborating on this…

Do they really think you’re that helpless?

A lost cause?

You don’t have enough energy to ask.

Every step closer is a metamorphosis of expressions though.

Santino seems to go through a thousand emotions in those several seconds it takes you to cut across the terrace. Your steps are shaky, your muscles aching, and you’re sweating.

A tart bitterness still coats your tongue and your grip on Winston tightens.

The older man presses closer—just a touch—but the silent comfort that gives you is immeasurable. Surprising.

Ares stands behind Santino and her expression is stoic as she takes you in. Unlike Santino, her emotions are guarded.

They both look ready for a funeral. The atmosphere that greets you is near suffocating.

You sit down awkwardly, practically falling into your seat as Winston sits down beside you. Santino is the only one left standing but he seems frozen in place.

You see his fingers flex, his Camorra ring gleaming in the golden rays of the sun when he finally lowers himself in the seat opposite to you.

It’s too late for lunch but too early for dinner. Wine and fresh coffee are always present on the heir’s table though—this you know to be an absolute that never changes.

“Ciao, cara mia. A pleasure to see you as always.”

You blink. Right.

“Santino.”

Those brilliant green eyes narrow.

“What’s wrong with your vo—”

Winston clears his throat loudly and Santino falls quiet, frowning deeply. He tugs a napkin free and drops it on his lap carelessly, peering at you.

The tension is thick enough to cut with a knife but you simply stare at the table.

“I have a job offer for you, bella,” the man begins amiably, folding his fingers on the pristine tablecloth before reaching for a glass of wine beside him. He’s frustrated, angry even. The cords of his neck are tense and the subtle clenching of his jaw betrays him. The way he taps his fingers repeatedly against the table and doesn’t seem to notice even more so. “One that I think you will find most beneficial.”

New York is so damn noisy. The traffic reaches you even up here. It’s a serenade of concrete, shouting, rushing people, laughter, arguing—

“Bella? Are you listening to me?”

You blink again, squinting at him. “Sorry,” you mutter shortly, ignoring the way Winston is dead silent, Ares is glaring at some distant point over your head, and Santino is gripping the wine glass so hard you can almost hear the cracking glass from where you sit. “It’s been a rough few days. What,” you exhale, your voice raspy and try again, “What exactly did you want?”

The Italian’s head slants, his demanding gaze drilling into you with enough intensity to keep you focused for at least a second.

“A job,” he repeats, slower this time, his voice colder, too. “I will require you in Chicago in two weeks time. In peak condition. Which you are currently not,” he adds the last part with such deliberate slowness that your bristle, something flickering in your gut.

It lasts only a second before fizzling out.

Yet between the rays of the sun blinding you both, it’s hard to miss the way he latches onto that brief moment. His navy suit accents the severe curve of his shoulders and the unmissable tension there.

“Not interested.”

A furnace, a volcano—Santino D’Antonio looks ready to shatter this world under his too-expensive shoe. Something whispers to you that it’s not anger directed at you, however.

Winston speaks before the Camorra heir can. “You need this job. It’s not a question of want or preference, I’m afraid.”

But you don’t want it.

Santino is just another reminder. A stark reminder that you don’t belong anywhere.

John didn’t want you, Camorra didn’t want you, Tarasov only needs you as long as you’re making him money, Winston is just doing his duty as the overseer of New York.

You belong in the pit with Kishi who seems absent for once.

Maybe it’s the brightness of the sun. He fears the light as much as you do now.

“It’s an undercover mission,” Santino endeavours to explain even though his voice is strained, deepening his accent. “Information gathering only. There are several individuals who have been, ah, causing problems for our trade as of late shall we say. It will be low risk, clean exit but no loose ends. What say you?”

He’s lying.

That’s for one.

Your eyes meet his stare and he leans closer like that can somehow keep your attention on him by doing that.

He’s lying.

So he either thinks you’re an idiot or he’s being purposely misleading due to Winston’s presence here. There is something else going on that he doesn’t want the manager of the Continental to know.

That calculating glimmer in his eyes is telling enough.

“No.”

You’re tired.

Downright, bone-weary type of exhausted.

Swaying, you stand to your feet.

“Tarasov is going to hunt you down—”

You don’t let Winston finish, turning to go. “I don’t care.”

A loud scrape of a chair fills the air and loud footsteps stalk after you. Deliberate. Furious. You ignore them, continuing on your way albeit sluggishly.

“And what are you going to do, hm?” Santino hisses from behind you, his fury spilling over. “Will you go cry a bit more about how your precious Johnathan left you? Will you just give up and go lock yourself away again?”

Your feet halt but you don’t turn around.

“D’Antonio.”

Winston’s warning is icy but Santino doesn’t heed it. That fire rages in him too brightly, scorching everything in its path. “When have you become such a coward, I wonder, hm? I knew a fighter, a tornado of a woman, now you can’t even look people in the eyes. Pity. To think that you have given up so easily—”

Fire doesn’t frighten you—it never has.

It’s a second, a breath, a heartbeat—

A blade stills against the curve of that elegant neck, and you stand face to face, seething when your eyes meet. It’s an echo from years ago, of your first meeting, and just like then Santino D’Antonio leans into danger, into the cold promise of death, into you and smirks. “Ah, there she is,” he purrs, enraptured, his voice a silky caress. “Are you going to kill me, cara mia?”

“I’m considering it.”

He raises his hand casually, stopping the guards who are no doubt ready to do their jobs and remove the threat—remove you.

“Yet you know that you cannot,” he dismisses, his voice still silky, smug. “For if you do the wrath of Camorra will rain down upon you till there is nothing left. Besides, it might be in bad taste to kill your host and friend, no?”

Friend?

You lean closer and Santino’s lips part at the proximity.

“I’m not staying here.”

His eyebrow cocks up and despite the residual anger you feel radiating from him, he still manages to sound effortlessly pompous when he speaks next. “You can’t afford to go back to the Continental,” he points out sharply and tilts his head, unruffled despite the bite of the blade against his pulse. “But if you prefer to sleep with the scum of this city then, by all means, be my guest.”

He’s right.

You have nothing. No home, no safe space to call your own, just nothing. John was your home once but he’s gone now, too.

For one hateful moment, you consider slicing Santino’s throat open just to have a quick out. But the truth is that you can’t.

He’s helped you too many times.

He helped John. He helped you. He gave you security when no one else could. He offered his hand despite everything—despite the fact that you still refuse to warm his bed to this day in spite of his clear eagerness for it. He keeps helping without pushing you.

For that alone, you know you owe him.

Ripping the blade away from his neck, you spin on your heels and stagger away, your skin damp with sweat.

Blood is rushing loudly in your ears and your tongue feels dry and bloated in your mouth as you stumble into the apartment. You manage a few steps before slumping against the wall, your breathing laboured. Wiping clumsily over your face, you take a moment to appreciate the suffocating silence your departure has left behind.

You linger just long enough to hear Santino’s clear, bitter command that rings like a death knell across the terrace.

“Postpone everything. We are staying in New York till this is sorted.”

You’re holding on.

But barely.

Just barely.

Maybe not even at all.

Winston leaves twenty minutes later.

He stops by the guest room you have claimed as your own and watches your prone figure on the bed.

You don’t turn to him, don’t say anything, either. You want to be angry that he’s as good as threw you out. That he’s forced you into this situation. That you found your clothes moved into the sleek closet behind you but not your solutions or poisons.

They don’t trust you.

They might believe the fact that you weren’t trying to end your life, but they don’t trust you not to do more harm.

The anger you felt only minutes ago in Santino’s presence has fizzled out and died. Darkness has cocooned you in its embrace once again even though something restless still scratches under your skin as always.

Even now, there is no peace.

“Let me come home.”

You don’t realise your slip up till you hear the older man exhale; a weary, ragged sound. You wonder what he must be thinking. If there’s some code he has to follow in a situation like this.

Home.

What sentiment.

What’s the protocol for this?

“Your death will not be on my hands,” he says at last, cruel and kind all at once. “One day you will thank me for this.”

And then he leaves.

Ares knocks on your door by the time dinner rolls around.

You don’t answer.

She comes in anyway. Her stare as hard and uncompromising as always, and the dour expression on her face only makes you blink and press your cheek back into the pillow.

Dinner?

You don’t move.

She signs again.

Sits on your bed and repeats it.

And again.

You don’t move.

Eventually, she leaves and you’re relieved that she’s gone.

A distant, angry voice sounds from somewhere in the apartment several minutes later but it cuts out quickly.

Somehow the silence that follows is even louder.

You could leave. You should.

But there is nothing for you out there but death.

No weapons, no solutions, and a weak body.

You won’t last a day.

For one foolish, pathetic moment you consider calling John just to see if his number is still the same. If maybe—

You curl under the covers and sink deeper into the dark.

Ares comes to call you for breakfast the next day.

You pretend that you’re asleep.

She brings you a tray of food and leaves it on the table.

You don’t touch it.

You pick at some of the food eventually.

But you don’t leave your room, spending endless hours curled under the covers, thinking.

Let Tarasov come.

It’s finally perfect. The poison you’ve created just for him. Just a touch more lethality and it will be ready.

You can’t wait to see him erode into nothing.

When he is dead—and one day he will be—you will delight in every second of dizzying triumph that will follow the stilling of that dark heart.

One day, he will die with terror in his heart that wears your name.

John. John. John.

Kishi has been absent for so long that you’re surprised to see his grinning face appear in your nightmares.

Hello, viper. I’ve missed you so dearly.

He cups your cheeks, grinning wider, wider—

His face morphs. Raven hair. Dark, thoughtful eyes that you love—

John leans forward and sinks his teeth into your neck.

Blood spills down your chest.

Your scream is silent.

Hands try to hold you down as you trash, your skin slick with sweat, and clothes sticking to your skin.

“Wake up,” a voice urges. “Open your eyes!”

You do. A scream climbs up your throat but you force it down, your eyes frantically seeking the figure above you.

A familiar pair of green eyes stare down at you. Wild with an emotion you have no name for.

His fingers hold you by the forearms but his grip relaxes when he sees you’re lucid.

Gasping for breath, you twist from underneath the covers, shaking his arms off and dash for the bathroom. Your knees crack against the gleaming tiles and the content of your stomach empties itself in a brutal lurch. Next several moments are full of your suffering. Tears sting your eyes from the pain, and you bite your lip, your limbs still twitching as your stomach rolls.

You feel him hovering behind you.

“Cara mia?” there is a question in that breathless address but you ignore him. “Are you well enough to stand, at least?”

He sounds frustrated but his voice is still calm—just barely.

Footsteps draw closer to where you lay half slumped over the toilet, your eyes closed.

You feel so drained that even tears won’t come. The skin of your neck feels dirty and torn. Faint traces of the feverish nightmare still cut into you and you shiver.

Hot fingers settle on your shoulder, light and cautious, and you snarl, jerking away from the touch. “Don’t touch me!”

“You’re unwell,” Santino shoots back tightly, his eyes blazing and body rigid. He’s clad in only a clean, white shirt and trousers but you don’t care to ask what the time is. “What is happening? Is it the poison? Did you take something—”

“Shut up and get out!”

“You need—”

“I don’t need you!” you scream; a raw, awful thing that leaves you gasping. You want to claw at your own skin but can’t—shouldn’t. “I don’t need anyone,” you add in a broken, quiet whisper and it’s like that awful hotel room all over again.

His expression darkens, strains. For the first time, Santino D’Antonio looks unsure of what to do. It’s like that finely honed arrogance with which he carries himself has abandoned him. Here, in this cold, dark bathroom he simply glares down at you.

“Very well, bella,” he says, his words biting, low. “Wallow in your misery alone if you must. But we are eating breakfast together.”

The last part isn’t up for negotiation.

A brief spark of anger ignites, nothing more than a tiny ember. Egoistical prick.

No response greets him.

He lingers for a few, expectant moments but you don’t move. The only dialogue between you is your shallow breaths and the weight of his overbearing regard.

Go, leave. Everyone always does.

You don’t feel yourself drift away.

The next morning, it’s the blinding sun that awakens you once more.

You’re back in your bed.

At first, you think that last night was a bizarre dream until you rub your face, and catch a whiff of vinous scent staining your skin.

Santino.

There is a feeling—

It flees as everything else does now—too fast for you to grasp onto it.

You don’t get up for breakfast.

You don’t get up the entire day.

Or the day after that.

It’s been at least a year and a half since Tokyo.

Yet it still feels like you’re drowning.

Maybe you’ll never stop.

“I hope you’re hungry.”

Your eyes crack open and you lick your cracked lips, turning towards the doorway.

It’s the first time you’ve seen him inside this room aside from that night when he woke you up from your nightmares.

He’s been sending in Ares to deliver you food and water, to try and engage.

“What?” you mumble, blinking sluggishly.

Santino stalks into the room and aggression lines his every step. He’s trying to control it, keep calm, and his hands buried inside his pockets say a lot. Behind him, Ares walks in with a tray of food. She moves closer towards you and places it on the bed before sitting down at the foot of it, the tray now between you.

Much to your surprise, the heir of Camorra does the same.

He looks beyond uncomfortable, his mind clearly somewhere else, but Ares starts first by picking up a mango slice from one of the many plates, and placing it inside her mouth. She chews slowly and stares at you expectantly as she does.

She’s clad in dark burgundy today as is Santino and you know that colour holds a special significance at Camorra but you can’t think of one right now.

They’re both not used to this, you realise distantly, making an effort for someone.

This is weakness. This is something that’s ruthlessly crushed and disposed of at Camorra. Such...inability would never be tolerated.

Yet they’re trying.

Santino is scowling at a wall but he’s chewing his fruit obediently. Ares is doing the same.

It’s awkward.

No one speaks.

And yet—

Your fingers stretch towards the strawberries.

Santino’s eyes snap to your hand, focusing on the motion and you still briefly before pinching one between your fingers. Your head barely lifts from your pillow but you bring it to your lips, nibbling on it cautiously.

It’s delicious. Sweet and zesty taste explodes against your tongue the moment you bite down on it. It’s taken days for the wounds inside your mouth to close but now the full extent of your taste receptors seems to have come back.

No one speaks but the tension in the room seems to ease a touch as you continue nibbling away.

You manage three strawberries that morning.

Every single one of them feels like scarlet, gushing victory.

For the first time in months, you don’t taste blood in your mouth.

You only taste the sweetness of life.

It’s hours later, long after they’ve both left, that information crawls up from the back of your mind.

An heir apparent and his right hand wearing burgundy outside of Camorra duties. No deaths, no coronation, no birthday or births to warrant that very deliberate choice of dress code.

This is something else.

Burgundy they wore in a show of favour, companionship, respectful implication that they consider you an equal and are seeking an alliance.

All while you laid in bed with greasy hair, dark circles under your eyes, stale breath and vacant eyes.

Something deep down flutters at that. You try to grasp onto that spark with whatever little strength you still have left but it’s so hard.

Everything is so hard now.

Warmth.

Your nose presses into it, curling against it and you sigh faintly. There is something so comforting about having someone else in the bed with you—

Your eyes snap open and you scramble backwards, your legs tangling in the sheets.

Santino lays on the other side of the bed, one hand resting behind his head. He’s relaxed, his clothes immaculate as always—pale blue, cotton shirt and trousers, no doubt all designer—and Rolex gleaming around his wrist as he taps his fingers on his chest in a careless rhythm. His eyes drag slowly from the spot he was observing on the ceiling to you, and a slight smirk curves his lips.

A spark again and it flares enough to work your tongue.

“What are you doing here?”

He blinks at the sharpness of your question and you don’t miss the trace of surprise in those green depths.

“This is my home, cara,” he says pleasantly, his voice a lovely roll of syllables, and you’ve forgotten how effortlessly charming he can be. “I am resting.”

“Get out.”

It’s hardly a demand. It sounds more like a strangled, detached whisper.

His eyes roll at that, effortlessly dismissive and condescending.

“Hm. No.”

You claw deeper to dig out that ember of your old self back. The one who would have sliced his skin for using that tone. Thrown him off the bed without warning and threatened him for good measure, too. If only to see that smug gleam in his eyes after. Listen to him throw a deliberate, heated comment about how attractive you are when angry while his eyes drag over your figure with obvious desire.

The same dance.

Always trying to get under your skin.

Even now.

“Get out.”

His eyes spark. Eager. Coaxing.

He sits up unhurriedly, his chin lowering as he looks you right in the eye.

“Make me.”

A deliberate challenge. Everything since you’ve come here has been deliberate. From his actions to his words. He’s trying to get a reaction. Even more so than he used to before. Before it was about him and his ego. Now you have no idea what he’s trying to achieve with his goading.

“What are you doing?” you demand even though it sounds faint and takes more effort than it’s worth. “Trying to piss me off on purpose?”

He leans closer and your eyes narrow when you come face-to-face. This is the closest he’s been to you in months. Since Rome. Since before whatever little control you had got buried with your heart at John’s wedding.

“Yes, cara, indeed I am,” he admits easily, shameless as always, facing you unflinchingly because it’s who he is. He never shies away and expects the same from you. “Be angry with me. Rage, yell, scream till your lungs give out. Anything is better than this.”

A knot forms in your chest at his angry, disgusted hiss at the end. At the way he waits, agog—waits for that fire to rise up and match his own.

Play with me, come on, those eyes say and you stare at him flatly, your mouth tilting downwards.

“What do you know about it?” you breathe quietly, and there is a muted sort of rage there. It prickles your skin, and your fingers knot in the sheets beneath your palms. “Poor little D’Antonio with his mean daddy who won’t shower him in praise. You have it so hard. Mansions and cars and a mountain of wealth. Freedom to do whatever you want.”

If he wants to play this game, you will indulge him.

His expression smoothens, growing colder at your words, and he leans back a touch, his chin tilting. The moment of almost ends and the cool, collected heir is all that’s left.

“So quick to pass judgment, cara mia,” he points out softly, icily. Still, his eyes drag over your weary features and there is determination there. “Join me for breakfast.”

“Why?”

His lips curve and he leans forward without warning again, his breath tickling against your ear. “Because I asked nicely and I rarely do that, no?”

You shove him back with your hand and he hums, seemingly entertained.

“Asshole.”

He stands to his feet, not a stitch out of place, and stretches to his full height, glancing at you before offering you his hand.

You ignore it, pulling the covers back yourself as you stumble to your feet, trying to find your balance.

“Better,” you hear him acknowledge, and flip him off without looking back as you stride towards the bathroom on shaky legs.

His chuckle sounds immediately, pleased, and you make sure to slam the door shut extra loud behind you.

You didn’t have to get up. You didn’t even think you had it in you to do so.

You cup your hands around that ember inside your chest protectively and soak in its warmth.

Just for a little while.

“You’ve gotten worse.”

Stabbing a fork into the fluffy pancake on your plate, you don’t answer.

The sun is bearing down on you both, warming your neck as you sip on your juice without engaging him. It tastes good. Freshly squeezed and organic no doubt—only the best for the Italian prince.

Santino exhales forcefully. He’s not used to being ignored and he doesn’t like it.

Good.

“You weren’t like this when you were staying with us,” he tries again and you ignore the resentment you can hear coating his words. “He did this to you.”

Your head lifts, your mouth a hard line, and find Santino half leaning across the small table towards you. He always does that you realise suddenly. Like he’s being dragged closer by an invisible rope.

He’s right though. Even if you hate the fact that he is.

Camorra for all its awful brutality and endless ambition had been a safe haven. It had been routine and focus and purpose. Most days you were so busy you had no time to think about anything else. You were hunted and wanted to change that.

So you shed your skin—the skin that was soft because you hadn’t realised just how much John had shielded you from before—and became a hunter yourself.

The Hunt had been a poetic slaughter—a baptism of blood.

Giovanni D'Antonio allowed you space under his roof because you had been relentless. So relentless to return the favour that with time he might have even offered you a place in his ranks and tried to buy you out from the Russian.

Camorra had been a twisted hope of belonging somewhere.

It had been friendship and hope.

Had.

“Why burgundy?” you ask him instead because it’s been plaguing you. “I have no position of power for you to seek an alliance with me.”

He blinks, exhaling, and then his mouth quirks. His features soften a touch and you ignore the fact that he appears beyond pleased with you.

“You remembered.”

Only because his family and the endless list of traditions and laws infused into the very foundation upon which that empire of blood and bones stands is fascinating. You’ve always been eager for knowledge because that’s what keeps you alive and both heirs had obliged you happily.

Many things they kept from you because you were still seen as an outsider but it hadn’t mattered.

Santino never lacked enthusiasm when it came to you wanting to know more about Camorra.

Because he’s proud of his family. Because he’s proud of his position in it. Because if he’s capable of love you think that Camorra might be the only thing he truly loves.

But articulating all that seems exhausting so you offer him a half-hearted shrug in response.

Still, this seems to have brightened his previously foul mood and he rests his chin on his folded fingers, his elbows digging into the table as he peers at you. His ring glints in the sunlight, momentarily distracting you.

“My intention is exactly what you think it was,” he reveals calmly. “I need you to come with me to Chicago, cara mia. This job is rather important to me personally.”

“Important enough to lie Winston about it.”

His smile is slow coming this time around and all teeth. A sinful, wicked soul residing inside a shell of a man with golden skin, dark curls and piercing eyes. Handsome, dangerous package. A temptation very few have resisted, you know as much.

“Perhaps,” he purrs gently and you force yourself to lower your eyes back to your food. “But I need someone like you. An individual who can deliver and be discreet about it. Besides what Winston doesn’t know, won’t hurt him, no?”

I need you.

You wonder if he’s realised that he’s said it twice in a span of less than five minutes. There is no emphasis on words or deliberate pauses. No indication at all that he’s said them on purpose. In fact, he appears entirely focused on your conversation, his voice smooth and steady.

“What is it?”

He seems even more pleased with your show of interest.

“It wasn’t entirely a lie, bella,” he says breezily, leaning back in his seat as his hands lower back onto the table. “It is undercover. Every five years operational managers from our world meet for a conference of sorts. Everything from food to clothing to weaponry is discussed. Hands are shaken, deals are struck, ah you know how it goes, cara, no? This year this very special event is being held in Chicago. We will attend it.”

You stare at him as you chew and swallow before forcing another bite of pancake into your mouth. You feel full already but you’ve only eaten half of one. You can—need—to eat more. Easier to do so with this distraction, with those eyes tracking every bite you take.

“You need me to kill someone.”

Not a question and those round, pleasant features draw into something remote, downright chilling. In that look, you see something else, something bloodthirsty. It makes you remember the words you associated with his name before your first meeting.

Charming. Power-hungry. Not to be trusted.

Fitting even now.

No, looking at him right now, it’s more fitting than ever.

“Yes,” he admits lightly with a pleasant little hum but his eyes rage. “And I want him to suffer.”

Interesting.

“I could go in alone—”

“No. You will never make it. This is a High Table related event and the security there will be unlike anything you have ever encountered,” he rebukes, and his words wash over you with the intent that tells you he’s been waiting for this moment for a while. “My name is your ticket inside. But most importantly Continental style rules apply. No bloodshed. It’s neutral ground for trading. No one can know it was you or the consequences will be...severe.”

There is more he’s not telling you.

“What do I get in return?”

Santino D'Antonio raises the espresso cup to his mouth and watches you over the rim like he’s already won. “1.5 million USD, cara mia. Agree and it’s yours. You have till twilight to decide.”

Charon stands beside Winston as the manager goes through the documents in front of him.

The concierge notices you first, his glasses reflecting the warm glow of the fireplace as you approach.

Winston’s attention follows several seconds later and the man straightens when he sees you, slipping his glasses off as you halt before him.

You haven’t seen him in days. Almost two weeks, in fact.

He takes you in with a critical eye before gesturing to the unoccupied seat opposite to him.

Slipping smoothly into the space you both observe each other for several moments.

“So,” Winston begins, his tone loaded. “Is signor D’Antonio dead or did you finally grow weary of his company?”

That almost makes you smile.

“Neither.”

A twitch of his expression but it’s so slight that you can’t quite read it.

“Yet here you are,” he notes calmly and something lingers in his tone, in his gaze, too. “Out and about. Looking better as well.”

Do you?

You don’t feel like it but you haven’t been feeling much of anything lately.

“I need access to my room,” you decide to cut to the chase and tap your fingers against the table as your eyes slide around the room. Few pairs of eyes skitter away under your attention. Good. This is the legacy of your bloodshed. “I need to prepare.”

Winston exhales and his regard changes. “You agreed then?”

You don’t look at them but you can tell both men are tracking your every breath. “In theory.”

You don’t elaborate further because Winston knows better than anyone that business and confidentiality are key.

“Wonderful. Though I would take this moment to remind you what kind of man you are dealing with.”

Your eyes slide back to him and you do smile this time even if it feels hollow. “You mean the very same one you threw me at?”

Winston’s expression doesn’t so much as shift. “Do you expect me to apologise? Because I have no intention of doing so,” he voices curtly and you don’t feel surprised by his words. “I took a gamble that paid off. But Santino D’Antonio is vain, bloodthirsty and arrogant. You would be wise not to trust him.”

Typical Winston. Always three steps ahead of everyone else.

A small scoff escapes you at his words and you lean back into the comfortable, plush seat. “Believe me,” you state coolly and tap your foot against the floor, once and then again. It takes a lot of energy—just like this entire trip has with your weak muscles and heavy head—but you force yourself to do it anyway. “He’s at the very bottom of the list of people I would ever trust. I know what he is.”

Just as monstrous as the rest of you. Maybe even more so.

But you’re not here seriously considering his offer because he asked nicely or offered you a mountain of money that will feed Tarasov’s greed.

You’re here due to the unspoken thing you can’t help but wonder if he’s even aware of.

The initial two-week deadline is up in less than two hours and yet he’s made no other preparations. Has taken no extra precautionary measures in case his plan backfires and you don’t agree. Despite how he keeps stressing that this job is so important to him, he’s waiting on you.

In Camorra, there is no such thing as “irreplaceable”. If someone is unavailable or incapable other options are sought out with startling ease.

He believes that you will do it.

It’s not about his need for you.

It’s that belief.

It…

It makes you want to fight, too, and you don’t know why but you want to at least try.

Winston takes a sip of his drink, considering you and bobs his head once. “Good. It’s still better than being alone.”

He reaches into his suit jacket and takes out a keycard, sliding it across the smooth mahogany table. Something in your chest ceases at the sight of it, at the fact that he’s had it on him this whole time.

“You figured that I will agree.”

It’s not a question but he still replies with a calm, “Not at all. I hoped that you won’t disappoint, of course,” he notes and there is a brief glimmer of a smile before it’s gone. “And you haven’t.”

You’re both quiet for several moments after that. Charon says nothing as always.

Your unsteady fingers wrap around the card eventually, and you stand with a nod in their direction, straightening.

“Charon. Winston.”

The older man salutes you with his martini. “Bonus fortuna.”

You turn to go and wonder what it means that men like Winston and Santino D’Antonio have more faith in you than you do.

LaGuardia airport appears in your sights half an hour later.

Santino’s men greet you at the entrance of the airport.

Private check-in, private everything. Security is nonexistent when you’re flying with a man of such power and influence.

Ares greets you outside the private jet and you watch a slight grin transform her steely expression into something a bit more cordial.

He is waiting for you inside. Good to be working with you again, pretty viper.

She goes slower than usual so you catch everything, and you appreciate it because you’re still learning ASL. Not to mention the fact that it feels like your brain is just barely functioning.

“Likewise.”

Climbing up the stairs, you nod at the flight attendant who beams back you when you pass her to get inside.

Even the vast, luxurious space can’t seem to contain Santino D’Antonio and his larger than life presence. Every line crisp and tidy, he hardly looks any different than usual. But tinted shades hide his eyes as he stares out of the window. Those long, graceful fingers tap restlessly against the table and you take him in for several stolen seconds.

His head snaps in your direction when you enter the plane and he stills at the sight of you.

You can’t see his eyes as you approach but feel the intensity of his regard all the same. “1.5 mil was it?”

You both know it’s not about the money. It never has been with you. But it’s easier to pretend that it is. If only because that’s safe and familiar.

Santino slips off his sunglasses with a slight chuckle, looking up at you from beneath his lashes as you plop down tiredly in the seat opposite to the heir. It’s like sitting down on a cloud.

He folds the shades and hooks them on his shirt pocket with practised ease. He seems to have a penchant for making every little gesture appear effortlessly elegant and pretentious at the same time.

That little quirk of his lips remains though.

“Indeed it was, cara mia,” he says and extends his hand towards you. “A deal is a deal.”

You grasp his warm hand in yours with the intention of shaking it but as always Santino acts on his own accord. He lifts your palm to his lips and kisses your knuckles instead, his heated breath tickling your skin as he peers at you. That ghost of a smirk is softer this time, and you pull your hand back with a roll of your eyes.

He considers you for a moment before glancing over your shoulder and nodding only once. Behind you, the crew prepares for take-off.

“How long were you going to wait for me?”

Santino’s head slants in thought but his expression is serious. The switch surprises you somewhat but you wait, ignoring the fatigue in your bones.

Ares passes you both with a wave and two guards behind her, heading towards the back of the plane without so much as a backwards glance and you blink.

Deliberate again. Clearly, Santino has something he wants to discuss in private.

He appears deep in thought, going between looking out of the window and you as the jet leaves the ground below. It’s a smooth and trouble-free take off because Santino always hires professionals of the highest degree. Certain things are routine with this man and there is a certain degree of comfort to be found in that.

“You lied to me.”

It’s been long enough that his voice startles you and your muscles tense, your mind immediately flying to all the weapons you have on you.

He seems to notice the way your body locks up just for a moment before relaxing again and his gaze darkens.

“What?”

“When I check in after you left Rome,” he begins and you suddenly understand what this is about. “You told me that you were back at the Continental safe and well. Working.”

You did.

“I wasn’t lying,” you retort tightly, guarded. “I was working.”

“Oh? Is that so? Work.”

Ignoring the scorn in his voice, you give him a fair warning, “If we are to do this job together,” you state icily, a warning ringing through your words. “Then you don’t ask me anything. Better yet, don’t talk about the past at all.”

That dangerous flame licks across his features, tightening his expression. For a prolonged, charged moment you simply survey one another. He saw it after all. How terrible it can be.

He doesn’t speak for the rest of the flight to Chicago.

The presidential suite is as grand as all other places Santino usually stays at.

The spacious, high-ceilinged room is located on the top floor of the hotel, overlooking over the beautiful ravine that is Lake Michigan.

The sleek, white walls somehow manage to add dimension to an already large square footage by still remaining welcoming. Decorated tastefully with glossy cabinets, lavish loveseat and colourful armchairs to not detract from the massive canopy bed sitting in the furthest corner of the room. The velvety covers and plush cream pillows have never seemed more inviting and your eyes linger on it the longest.

There’s just enough bold colour sprinkled through the room to remove the clinical factor such bright space might bring to mind, and you peek an adjoined en-suite bathroom hiding behind one of the doors you walk by.

It’s curious how despite Santino’s life back in Italy being rooted in tradition whenever he stays anywhere else, he always chooses modern, contemporary designs.

This is the height of luxury—a welcoming card, cuvee white brut champagne, fresh fruit and chocolates already laid out in a neat manner—and behind the connecting door to your right lies this room’s twin image.

“We can discuss further details tomorrow, bella,” Santino says but doesn’t look at you as he does so. “You should rest.”

You wonder if he can tell that you’re standing upright by sheer will alone. There is a tremble in your knees as you move and your steps are heavier than usual.

You’ve grown weak.

The muscle that has been forged through years of brutal training has softened and diminished.

When did you allow yourself to become this?

When did you let Kishi win?

Never give someone else the power to destroy you.

But you have done exactly that. No matter how much you’ve been trying to dress it up, this fact still stands.

You have been punishing yourself.

It should make you feel something, you imagine. Furious, upset, determined, sad.

Anything at all.

Instead, you just feel tired.

Tired and cold, and like something has been raked right out of you, leaving a hole behind that might never be filled. A hole that you can pour happiness and hope and sadness into and it still won’t matter. Because nothing can fill what’s bottomless. Nothing can fix something like that.

You want to try but—

But you’re not sure if you’re strong enough.

Nodding your head, you head towards the bed without a word.

Santino slams the door to his half of the suite with enough force to rattle the hinges.

Water slides down your throat, scratching and tearing at your vocal cords as you choke on your screams.

You’re jerked back by the hair and Kishi smiles, caressing your cheek with stiff, cold fingers.

Your hands are dirty, viper, he hums lovingly and grabs you by the back of your neck, you are dirty. Time to get you clean.

You jolt into wakefulness as hands drag you forward abruptly and your forehead connects with a solid chest instead.

“Calm, shh, you are awake,” a voice urges with gentle but instant fingers digging into your shoulder blades. The comfort of that touch is so familiar that deep down it makes you gush with agony, some distant loss you can’t name. “You’re safe.”

Safe.

“John,” you sob, blindly clinging to that warmth, to silent strength there. “John.”

The figure freezes, tenses. A few shallow breaths follow and then a hand settles on the top of your head. Those muscles relax gradually and careful fingers stroke your hair. Soothing. Slow.

“Don’t—don’t leave,” you beg weakly and cling tighter, tighter because you love him so much and it hurts— “Please don’t leave m-me.”

That grip tightens and holds you closer, cocooning you in warmth. For once, the ever-present chill in your soul seems to ebb, fade just a little.

“I won’t, amore,” he reassures softly. “I won’t.”

You believe him.

You dreamt of John last night.

Of comfort and him staying. Fingers smoothing over your hair in that achingly familiar manner he used to touch you with when it was just you two alone. When you managed to mangle that iron-like willpower of his by leaning into him, seeking him out.

Remembering that warmth makes you both devastated and happy. It’s like a soothing balm against wounds that refuse to heal. But it’s also a knife cutting deeper and deeper.

You swore to yourself that you would let go but—

That, too, is hard.

A folder slides across the table surface and towards you, hitting your hands and you jump in your seat, rigid.

Ares shoots you an apologetic look as she goes to stand in the corner of the private breakfast room, clasping her hands in front of her, and you squint at the folder, forcing yourself back into reality.

“What’s this?”

“That, cara mia, is information about your target,” Santino explains over the rim of his espresso but his tone remains dispassionate. There’s something odd about him today but you don’t care enough to ask him. “Read it carefully.”

Opening the manila folder, you move several pieces of paper aside, blinking at the pictures of a stern-faced man. They’re black and white but they reveal a male who looks no more than five years older than Santino, his features handsome in a hard, rugged sort of way. His short hair is either brown or black and though all photos are too far away to be able to tell for sure, his eyes appear dark, too. Brown or hazel if you had to make a guess.

He’s handsome, but there is something about his features that makes you think of Tarasov. Makes you think of enough charm to get by but preference for brutality instead.

His face tells you that trusting this man would be unwise.

“Who is he and why do you want him dead?” you question after a moment of analysing the pictures.

Rafael Conte

A part of you can’t help but wonder what this man has done to evoke the wrath of the Camorra heir. Though, as always, it likely has something to do with greed and egos.

Santino doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he spreads jam across his toast but there is something…violent about the way he drags the blade across the perfectly toasted surface. Something about the way his hair is unstyled today and a few messy, loose strands fall into his eyes. Something about the way his movements are jerkier than usual, less refined.

He’s back in a full three-piece this morning but a voice at the back of your mind whispers armour. Because this is different from those two weeks you spent at the penthouse. He rarely wore a suit at all during that time. There was something more open and casual about him then.

“Oh, you aren’t killing this man,” he finally speaks and you frown minutely at the way he lowers the butterknife back onto his plate a little too loudly, then sighs, and looks up at you with forced calmness. “We will be using him to get to your actual target. We need to be very careful about what we do here, cara mia. This man can lead us to the man he serves, and it’s him that I need you to dispose of.”

Still frowning, you look back towards the pictures. Santino’s attention lingers on your face but you ignore it.

“Why wait this long?”

“What do you mean?”

Your head slants and you regard him with a knowing, calculated look. Santino doesn’t answer you, however, he simply stares back, and the look in his eyes challenging. You know he wants you to engage and so you do. After yesterday, after that fleeting memory of warmth, you feel like you have the strength to do so.

“Why wait for some obscure event with a ridiculous level of security when you could get rid of this man on a Tuesday afternoon while sipping lemonade in your parlour?”

Because that’s easy and clean. Because he won’t have to lift a finger and get needed results unless—

“Tell me, bella,” Santino begins, interrupting your racing thoughts and his index finger traces the rim of his cup lazily. “Have you heard of an organisation called the Black Dragon?”

Your tongue works quicker than your mind. “John—”

The words die in your throat; a feeble, pathetic crumbling of syllables.

The temperature inside the bright, sunny room seems to fall by several degrees.

Santino’s fingers are still, his attention focused on his cup. His toast remains untouched.

Forcing down the lump in your throat down, you force out a strained, “He’s told me about them before. Private organisation. Janitors of the High Table, right?”

“Indeed,” he intones coolly in reply and taps his fingers again, more agitated this time. “We are here to kill its current leader. A man by the name of Andre Boutin. The issue, however, is that if you search for a definition to word ‘paranoid’ in the dictionary that man’s name will be under it.”

He lifts the cup back to his lips again but those bright viridescent depths zero in on you. A shadow lingers across his features, and once again you can’t help but feel like he’s not being completely honest with you—there is more to this than he’s letting on.

“He never leaves his secret little lair unless the High Table forces his hand,” Santino continues and cuts a neat piece of his toast before biting into it. It doesn’t surprise you that like a true, refined heir he chews and swallows before speaking again. “Hm, but he will have to attend this event. Signor Rafael is his right-hand man. Aside from the standard proceedings, there will be…exclusive invitations into certain circles. We are to get Rafael’s attention and penetrate his. That’s the only way to get to Boutin, bella, and it’s crucial we do so. Tomorrow will be our only chance.”

“No traces?”

His eyes narrow and he nods his head once, dead serious. “None, not even a whisper of one,” he says solemnly, his heir ring tapping against the ceramic of the cup once, twice. “You are to be beautiful but harmless. I know Rafael personally. I will get you close enough.”

But he never places himself in the firing sight. Never dirties his own hands. Just how desperate is he to see this man dead to do so now? At an event that will have so many eyes from the highest circles of those under the High Table on you no less.

“You mean you need me to act as your whore,” you deadpan and go on before he can interject. “You need me to fool them, pull the wool over their eyes. But what if someone recognises me?”

Santino looks like he’s biting back a sigh and inclines backwards into his seat, staring at you. Those loose curls fall into his eyes and for a moment they distract you. “I would prefer if you did not use such…phrasing, but I suppose in a sense, yes,” he tells you and you stab a piece of melon with extra vigour before placing it between your lips. For the briefest of seconds, the man before you focuses on that tiny little movement before his attention shifts. “I also recognise the, ah, dangers. It does seem likely someone might but I’m not trying to hide you, carissima. You have spent a year with my family. You by my side is no longer a novelty. It might even be expected in certain circles.”

He pauses at that, his lips parting like that realisation is just hitting him, too.

You by his side is nothing new. You by his side. He says it with such ease, such boldness—like it’s as obvious as the sun rising every morning.

A silence that follows those words is different somehow. Almost like you have both become intimately aware of each other’s presence in your lives and all the time you have spent together.

“You don’t want this attached to your name,” you say frankly, at last, forcing casualness into your words. “Only a handful of guards with you. All this secrecy. This goes beyond killing a lackey of the High Table. What did this man do, Santino?”

Because he would never take such a personal risk unless he had no other choice. But that’s also why he needs you. A clean, untraceable kill. Even if people were to suspect him there would be nothing to stick on him personally. Clever, unprincipled bastard.

“That,” the Italian mutters, his voice wooden. “Is of no importance. You are here to kill Andre Boutin and that’s all that matters. Do you think you can you do that for me, bella, hm?”

This is personal. That much you do know.

But something about this challenge fills you with determination to hold onto that warmth from last night.

Maybe wherever John is, his spirit is still looking out for you.

So for now at least, you decide to let the topic go. He does have a point after all. You’re not getting paid to ask questions.

“Sure I can,” you demure slyly and smother your grin against the glass of juice in your hand. Santino blinks, seemingly taken off guard by the unexpected teasing, at your spark of energy. “Anything specific wardrobe wise you want me to wear? Aside from the obvious.”

Something bold yet tantalising enough to make most people in that little get together hate you and want to fuck you in the same breath. Such is Santino D’Antonio’s way. He has to court attention at all times. You cannot be seen as less. When it comes to appearance Santino never spares expense. What a spoiled prick.

His gaze sharpens at your words, and that heat returns as he scrutinises you.

He hums quietly, his eyes dragging over your figure before saying, “Green. Wear something green,” he instructs lightly and when he meets your stare next, you do feel something inside you settle and still. “But I need them to look at you and feel like they can’t breathe.”

Where is the fire that I adore so? Do not tell me that he robbed you of it so completely, cara mia.

He hasn’t.

You had wanted to say that to Santino last night but couldn’t.

John hasn’t—

But hasn’t he?

It’s a destructive cocktail of anger and bitterness and doubt churning deep inside your chest. A part of you misses John with an intensity that shakes your bones; fracturing them and unmaking them with swift, expert proficiency. Another part of you hates him. He let you believe that he loved you but then chose another woman over you the moment a possibility of a normal life came up. Better drop the dead-weight. Better to erase the messed up, traumatised weakling from his life. Be done with it.

No, John hasn’t robbed you of anything.

He gave you a different sort of fire.

A flame of rage and longing all fusing together to create something far more devastating.

But last night…

You’ve almost forgotten what that’s like—being carefree, smiling, doing something so simple yet freeing.

Santino D’Antonio had given you a moment of yourself back without realising it. You’re not quite sure what to do with that knowledge. With the memory of your messy dance and that whisper of wonder in his eyes as he took in your smiling expression.

A knock resonates again your door and your head slants in the direction of the sound. “Come in.”

Ares pokes her head in first before stepping into the room already dressed in a tailored suit. It’s a dark, patterned number mixing black and deep grey tastefully. The black shirt she wears underneath is neatly pressed, and the pin she bears under her throat in an illusion of a tie is of Camorra making. She looks amazing and carries herself like she knows it, too. Dark makeup around her eyes accents the piercing nature of her blue eyes and you click your tongue.

“Trying to outshine me?” you joke but she doesn’t reply, taking in your appearance as well. Smiling, you run a hand down the body of the dress and towards the shimmering skirt. “What do you think?”

Her eyebrows jump up deliberately, staying that way as she signs with her eyes still on you. You fulfilled the brief.

You’ve certainly tried.

Your hair and makeup have all been done by expert hands because you didn’t trust your own. Not right now. Not with muscle weakness and the tremors.

You’re glad that this mission is not an active job that will require fighting your way out of a situation. Right now, you can admit—even only to yourself—that you would be more of a liability than an advantage in a physical fight. You can’t be seen shedding blood at this event and perhaps this is the best kind of job to ease yourself back into things.

That dedication to see an assignment through was bred into you by John, and now that you’re here no matter how empty things might feel, a part of you wants to see it finished no matter what.

It’s refreshing.

Wanting something.

“Where is Santino?” you ask her, turning to go, double-checking all your weapons—what few you could sneak in—are all on you. “I haven’t heard him in his room.”

Ares waits for you by the door as you approach, shrugging. He went ahead. He will meet us there.

“Is Piero with him?”

Ares nods and you both leave the room together, heading down the hallway.

Another security measure. Every invited person is allowed to take but one guard with them. Two, if they come with a plus one which in Santino’s case is you. A measure introduced to appease the inherently paranoid nature of the people attending but also avoid any potential…disagreements. When you have one guard you are far less likely to start making a nuisance of yourself.

A car is waiting for you outside when you and Ares exit the foyer, and you know the venue is only fifteen minutes drive from the hotel. You’ve made sure to analyse the site as much as possible.

A hotel and casino in one, Paradise has served as a hotspot and neutral meeting ground for anyone seeking an audience with Chicago’s Outfit and their Boss. The word is that you either make a deal with them or you don’t leave Paradise alive.

You suppose it’s just your luck that Chicago Outfit and Camorra have a long-running alliance from as early as the bloody 20ties era. Back when Italians have first set their sights on powerhouse cities like New York and Chicago amongst others, waging deadly wars amongst each other for territory.

An enemy of a friend is always good to have, Santino had told you with a secretive little smile and a dangerous air of viciousness thick in the air.

You can’t help but wonder if this has—to some degree—been planned for even longer than you first suspected.

If this gathering only happens once every five years and always in a different city and continent, just how long has Santino waited to put this plan into action?

Chicago. A city ruled by an Italian-American crime syndicate and ties to Camorra.

The Black Dragon. Janitors of the High Table. Trained killers who answer only to their leader and the Table.

You. A mission to kill the current leader Andre Boutin. A man who always hides as if fearing something.

What did this man do?

How do the puzzle pieces fit together?

The car rolls to a stop and you blink out of your stupor, glancing ahead and see Ares turn towards you from the front seat.

Ready?

You bob your head once and inhale deeply, letting the oxygen sit in your lungs for several seconds while she exits the expensive vehicle and opens the door for you. You take her offered hand with a silent squeeze of thanks.

From this moment on, you are no longer you.

Your heels hit the damp pavement and the Vipress steps out.

Ares shadows your side as you trek up the extravagant staircase to the Paradise hotel, ignoring the flurry of snowflakes that settle in your hair. The attendants greet you both, checking your name on the guest list, then weapons, and you’re both ushered inside with polite, stiff nods. Your coat gets taken at the door and you dip your head in a cool, disinterested manner—just enough to appear polite.

Ares is a silent phantom by your side.

The gathering has started already. S will be waiting for you by the staircase to the ballroom. You both need to be seen.

Should we not go straight for the target?

S believes appearing innocuous first is your priority.

Your eyes sweep over several individuals around the foyer who shift at being caught staring, clearly uncomfortable at your signing, and you suppress a remorseless smile. Good.

Santino wasn’t exaggerating though, most people around are unfamiliar to you. These people are the wheels that keep the underworld business rolling but they are not Tarasov or Giovanni. These people are at the top of their own food chain but under the Table, they are specks only.

The grand staircase leads up a level where the hotel rooms are located and downstairs where the ballroom and casino can be found.

Ares moves a step behind you as you descent slowly, taking your time with the gown and the shoes. A dull twinge of weakness still locks your knees and you force yourself to focus on your every move.

Just like the woman behind you warned, Santino waits a little away from the main staircase, chatting with the burly, brown-haired Piero in hushed voices.

He’s striking tonight.

Admittedly, Santino always looks good—he takes special pride in his appearance, you know that much—but today he made an effort and it shows.

The suit he wears is as dark as the richest night, tailored to fit him to perfection, and the light reflects a peculiar shine of the material whenever he moves. His hair is neatly combed and those unruly curls pulled back but you can already see a few rebellious strands trying to free themselves. The white shirt he sports under the suit is blinding and a satin bowtie rests around his throat, pulling the dignified image together.

His black dress shoes might as well be mirrors.

Santino looks like an arcane, sinful dream and you know many recognise the Camorra heir as he stands there with an air of effortless arrogance.

His eyes flicker away for a second, scanning the room and snag on you just as you reach the final step, your dress skirt dragging down the polished marble and falling against your legs as you walk with deliberate slowness towards the heir.

Santino doesn’t have to fake his reaction and that’s good—too many eyes on you.

He stills and you note the slight downwards dip of his shoulders as if whatever oxygen he did have in his lungs has fled.

His lips parted, he watches your approach unblinking and with pulse-pounding sort of intensity. He doesn’t bother masking the raw desire in his regard, either, and there is a nudge of surprise when you feel a flicker of warmth in your chest in response.

You’ve missed this. Being seen by someone. Being desired openly and without shame.

Not pausing, you walk right up to him and wrap your arms around him, resting your nose against the smooth skin of his neck.

Santino goes stiff with surprise and you tilt your head so your lips brush against his ear, “There are eyes on us. Wrap your arms around me right now,” you direct quietly and pull him closer with a smile. “Touch me as if we’re lovers.”

He does.

His right arm snakes around your waist before trailing up your back, his burning fingertips brushing against your bare shoulder blades. His breaths are shallow but he leans in and presses a brief kiss against your shoulder as his hand drags back down the arch of your spine. Slow, wanton. You have to suppress a genuine shiver despite your best efforts to play your own little act.

Pulling back, you remain right against him, meeting his stare and Santino’s eyes wander over your features, guarded.

The reservation is surprising. Is he gauging what he can get away with without you snapping at him?

He gave you a brief, a job to do. You intend to fulfil it. The last thing you need is to be caught as well. That means playing the part to perfection.

“Looking quite handsome, darling,” you tell him with the slightest curl of your mouth. Your fingers skim over the velvety material of his bow tie and you glance at him from under your lashes. “Am I to your liking tonight?”

He licks his bottom lip and his sizeable pause generates amusement deep down that you don’t let anyone see. For once the man with a silver tongue has nothing to say.

“Yes, amore,” he says thickly and his stare doesn’t stray from you. “You are breathtaking.”

Clever bastard.

He might as well be undressing you with his eyes but that’s the point.

The black gown you wear glimmers like a thousand little jewels—and indeed every inch of the light material is stitched with little gems that depending on light reflect silver or dark green. The dual-chrome aspect makes every step you take a visual feast and thin spaghetti straps made out of strings of tiny gems glitter in the light as well. The cut at the back of the dress dips all the way to your lower back and Santino’s fingers press into your skin. Tracing, lingering.

Leaning back slightly, you reach for your clutch, pulling out a silky piece of cloth that matches the reflective green of your dress.

Santino’s hand still rests securely against your lower back, and you peek at him as you place the handkerchief in the otherwise empty suit pocket. With delicate fingers you smooth the pocket square into neat lines, dragging your palm deliberately down his chest after. You stare at each other for several moments, ignoring everyone else around.

Well, not you. You’ve already counted the exits and the guards present with every guest in the nearby vicinity. Taken stock of most of their weapons, too.

Who is the biggest threat? John’s low voice questions in your ear and you take note of that as well. Keep them in your sight.

Santino, on the other hand, looks like he can barely recall where he is.

“Shall we?”

Before he can answer another voice speaks first.

“Santino D’Antonio. It has been a while,” a deep voice calls with an accent you can’t quite place. It almost makes you think French but there is a sprinkling of something else there. “Giovanni couldn’t be bothered to attend himself?”

There is an accusation in that question and you control your expression. Letting surprise show now won’t be in your best interest. You are a shell, a plaything, a snake in the garden.

Still, not many would have the guts to speak like that about Giovanni D’Antonio—and to his son no less.

You only turn towards the owner of the voice after Santino does, and his grip on you tightens briefly before relaxing. You’re still practically hip to hip and behind you, Ares and Piero slip closer; a subtle manoeuvring.

Tucking yourself into Santino’s right side, you give him room to shake hands with the man who comes to a stop before you. He’s taller and broader than you both and that handsome but stern face makes your instincts prickle in real life even more so than the pictures did.

“Rafael,” the Italian greets smoothly, and yet you can hear the subtle contempt in his tone as he drops the man’s hand. “Always a pleasure to see you. Father could not attend. Business with the Triad, I’m afraid.”

You have no idea if that’s true or not but regardless Santino says it with enough conviction that even a priest would believe him.

Your mark doesn’t look convinced though.

Rafael Conte in his immaculate grey two-piece suit eyes Santino with cool disdain that hides behind a ghost of a smile. Clearly, there is no love lost between the two. So much for knowing the man personally.

“I’m sure that’s the case,” he states flatly, and his dark eyes slide towards you. He looks you up and down like a butcher assessing livestock and you work to keep your expression open and friendly, shy even. “Your plus one, I assume.”

“Wonderful, is she not?” Santino poses icily and you have to stop yourself from rolling your eyes.

Rafael’s eyes linger on the skin of your thigh that peaks from between the slit in your dress. Then they drag towards your hips and deep plunge of your neckline before he finally meets your stare. The entire assessment lasts no longer than a scant few seconds but whatever he observes he seems to find lacking.

“Not your usual type,” he intones in deliberate, clipped Italian. “Couldn’t find an attractive model to fuck instead?”

The air crackles with tension as two men stare at each other, silent.

This isn’t going like expected, so reading the situation and its potential deterioration, you decide to gamble, “Actually,” you begin sweetly, in equally deliberate Italian, and Rafael’s attention snaps to you. “Most nights I fuck him so thoroughly that he doesn’t want to leave the bed the next morning. Isn’t that right, Santi?”

You’ve never called him that before and you sense the minute twitch of his muscles in reply.

His fingers sink into your hip firmly but his words are calm, genial. “I have nothing to complain about,” he admits mildly, turning to look at you and you meet his reticent gaze with a slight, coy smile. “You always impress, principessa.”

Turning back towards your mark, you find those inky eyes focused on you and blink innocently.

“This one has a mouth on her,” he says, his words terse and he looks you up and down again. “Might get her into trouble one day.”

Santino smiles but it’s more of a predator baring his teeth in warning as he presses you closer to him. “Ah, it’s a rather delightful mouth I reassure you, and I could never resist a bit of danger, Rafael. You know how it is.”

The muscular man scoffs. “Your lack of self-control is well known, D’Antonio,” he notes briskly, and the sarcastic bite of his deep voice is offset only by the easy smile he flashes you both. It softens his forbidding expression but doesn’t hide the contempt. “I certainly hope you’re here to do some actual business instead of wasting everyone’s time. But do enjoy your evening,” he adds with a purse of his lips.

He brushes past your party without another word, every step purposeful and you can practically hear the grind of Santino’s teeth beside you. Placing your hand on top of his, you pull his attention towards you.

“A dance, darling?”

He doesn’t reply, simply wrapping his arm tighter around your waist and leading you both towards the ballroom where the main event is being held. Behind you, Ares and Piero fall in step behind you.

The room itself is massive and decorated in tasteful greys and silvers—Chicago Outfit’s colours, you recall. A canopy hangs across the ceiling, a million tiny fairy lights creating an illusion of the night sky. Your gaze swings towards the massive dance floor where a glistering chandelier hangs suspended above the already dancing guests. In fact, the vast space is already full of people milling around and chatting business. Champagne, whiskey, bourbon and wine are only a couple of the drinks you spot being poured around the room. Later, when the masks fall away, you know everything from cocaine to ecstasy will be served just as openly.

Across the room, you spot the entrance to the private casino section but know that it won’t be in use till later. After these civilised people do their song and dance of being normal.

Santino cuts straight towards the dancing guests, only giving Ares and a vague tilt of his head to indicate that the plan is now in motion.

The said plan was always to catch Rafael’s attention here. Running into him this early had never been part of your previously discussed play.

A strain weighs across Santino’s face when he pulls you on the dance floor just as the live band finishes playing a song and starts another.

His arm settles around your waist and you step closer towards him, your fingers lacing together.

He settles you into a rhythm smoothly and you spin across the shiny floor with other patrons.

“What was that?”

His quiet, indignant question doesn’t surprise you. He doesn’t look at you as he speaks, his attention remaining on the attendees and you fight back a sigh.

“I was getting his attention,” you murmur in reply, giving his palm a measured squeeze. “Now we’re on his radar. He will watch us twice as often. We will dance and dine and have a great time,” you explain evenly and that familiar focused calm thrums through you. When your eyes meet next, you add a meaningful, “Trust me, I know what I’m doing.”

Hand in hand, you spin in a slow circle and his eyes find yours.

“Trust is not a currency I deal in often, cara mia.”

You part, your palms grazing as you circle each other, and you hold his heavy stare.

“See how this whole trust thing works is that you have to give some away before any can be given back,” you remind him when he pulls you back to him, and this time you stand close enough to smell his cologne and count his eyelashes as they flutter when he fleetingly looks towards your lips. “Isn’t that what friends are for?”

He notices the mocking edge to your words and his eyebrows arch slightly when he draws you closer.

“Are we not friends, bella?”

You give him an honest answer. “Hardly.”

Something flickers across his expression but it’s gone in an instant and his answering smile is uncaring, forced.

“Such a cruel tongue you have.”

Smiling pleasantly, you hum, “I keep it especially sharpened for you.”

This time, the sharpness recedes and something more honest is left in its place as Santino dips you and unlike last night, this time you’re ready for him. Perhaps the awkward practice paid off after all.

The world tilts and then he pulls you back to him, an array of colours blurring your sight, and for the briefest of seconds, all you can see around you is him. Him and the crooked dip of his grin as he peers at you.

“I have missed this,” he admits in the space between you but even over the dancing guests and the music, you hear him. “This you. Could she perhaps be persuaded to stay, hm?”

It would be so easy, you can’t help but think, allowing yourself to tangle in his web. Allowing yourself the privilege of forgetting John and Kishi and Tarasov—of forgetting every dark shadow that haunts you. He almost makes it easy. Easy to breathe and forget. But you now know what it is to be broken apart when you allow someone else to complete you.

Never again.

Never with a man who will no doubt exchange your company for someone else’s soon. Winston had a point. Santino’s favour is bound to come with an expiration date. One day, he will grow bored of you or resentful because he’ll realise that you will never give him what he truly wants.

One day, inevitably, he will let you down. Replace you. Leave.

It’s simply who he is.

Pivoting on your heels, you turn your bodies in a different direction, your steps unfaltering as you move across the floor.

Santino blinks, his silent scrutiny letting up as he squints at you.

“Are you trying to lead, cara mia?”

“Not trying,” you murmur slyly under your breath, a slight smile lingering across the seams of your mouth. “Succeeding.”

The soft set of his lips part and this time his grin shows teeth, dimpling his cheeks. He swiftly pushes your bodies apart, spinning you, and your skirt flares around your legs before he yanks you back to him, your bodies colliding. His arm envelops you immediately, keeping you pressed to him and the warmth of him seeps into you as he watches you through hooded eyes. His thumb caresses the bare skin of your lower back and a shiver crawls down your body as your warm breaths mingle.

You’re out of breath due to acute exhaustion still gnawing at your bones but—

“I could give you anything you want—anything at all. Power, money, jewels, pleasure,” he whispers faintly, leaning closer, and you fight to ignore the sultry drag of those words. “The world. All you need to do is ask.”

With his power—with the power he might still inherit—you imagine he could.

But—

“And what would you want in return? For me to be your pretty, obedient pet?” you whisper back but your voice lacks all the heat his has. Something far more critical twists your words and you meet his gaze, your faces inches apart. “Warming your bed whenever you feel like it until something more exciting comes along? No, I know how this game works, Santino. Men like you collect women and use them to appease your overinflated egos until we’re no longer interesting to you. Then you throw us out like trash. Even though the problem is rarely us but rather your inability to emotionally connect with another human because all you want or care about is fleeting excitement of the chase. Cheap sex on the side. Sorry to disappoint you but I’m no one’s pet.”

His jaw clenches, a ripple of emotions flitting across his features.

“I don’t want a pet.”

Low, wary.

But you push because you don’t believe him. Trust his word even less despite the fact that any and all promises he’s made so far, he’s followed through with.

“Then what is it that you want?”

He stops. You’re the only two unmoving bodies in a sea of movement.

Those vivid green eyes glow with something you have never seen before as he studies you.

It is desire but—

He reaches up and caresses your cheek; nothing more than a whisper of a touch.

“You.”

A breath rushes out of you.

A lump forms in your throat but you don’t move or speak. It’s like you’re both locked in your own private little bubble and the sheer intensity of Santino’s gaze leaves you with no escape. Your muscles seem to have stiffened up with disbelief. He’s always made it clear what he wanted but…

“Santino D’Antonio! It’s good to see you again.”

He exhales and whatever it was that you saw only moments ago is gone, leaving a far more familiar sight of a proud Camorra heir behind.

He turns to greet an unfamiliar man approaching, his grip on you loosening but not dropping entirely, and you remind yourself that you are nothing to him. Nothing more than an object of desire, a trophy to win, a conquest his damn pride won’t allow him to drop till he succeeds.

You hate the fact that for a second—just one—you had believed him.

Your eyes flicker over the crowd, a blur of faces, before a large man next to a bar catches your attention.

Rafael Conte takes a slow sip of his drink that dark stare boring holes into you.

Your lips curl.

Santino does talk business.

He really has covered all his basis and found a legitimate reason to be here—be here and appear unsuspicious as well.

Camorra is one of the wealthiest families in the world and there are plenty of individuals eager to do business with them.

Santino talks—ruthlessness and charm weaving effortlessly—shakes hands and deals business. Number start blurring somewhere in their millions.

You stay by his side through it all. His grip around you is resolute, secure. It’s surprising how natural the fit is, comfortable. Especially because any and all foreign touch since Tokyo makes your skin crawl with disgust. You’ve only ever fit this well beside John but thinking about him now stings terribly so you push the thoughts of him away.

Instead, you focus on your role entirely. Submerge yourself in it so wholly that you can almost believe that’s truly all you are: your job.

A mindless girl who is desperate for any scrap of attention from the powerful, handsome man beside you.

Fingers ghosting over his neck, leaning into him, giggling in his ear and playing with his fingers—you embody the desire you’re supposed to represent. Santino’s replies are rarely verbal but any and all attention from you always seems to distract him, shattering his concentration.

His fingers rub circles against the swell of your hip in response, and other times he wraps his arm around your shoulders. His cool Camorra ring grazing the skin of your arm as he traces random patterns on your skin.

People stare discreetly. You know by this point more than a few have recognised you. No one dares to comment though.

You imagine that to them you look completely caught in each other. Sharing breathing space and suggestive whispers; heat and something carnal, something only lovers could ever fully grasp.

Buying into the rampant tension between you must be easy.

You succeed in your mission.

Two hours in, a waiter approaches a spot where you and Santino sit—you draped over his lap and arms around his neck while he discusses weaponry with some Romanian crime syndicate representatives—and delivers a scrap of paper with a simple message.

Join us for poker and business, D’Antonio. Your plus-one can come along as well.—R

You’re in trouble.

Big, fat trouble.

Not because Santino is gambling three million away—though you imagine losing that won’t be in your best interest—but because this intimate setting is even more intimate than you ever would have suspected.

No guards, for one.

The game itself is between six players—counting Santino—in a small closed-off booth section of the casino. Your game is not the only one ongoing but you doubt this kind of money is being thrown around anywhere else. Every man playing seems to have brought their plus ones as well, including Rafael himself. A tall, stunning woman with glossy black hair, beautiful brown skin and shrewd almond eyes.

The problem is that unlike you, these women don’t have to pretend. Their interest is genuine, and when twenty minutes into the game you notice zippers being unzipped and hands starting to wander, you feel something inside your chest shrivel up.

Santino’s grip on you remains and you find yourself clinging to him for a different reason. At first, you play at being shy, burying your face against his neck. He notices, dragging his long fingers down your leg gradually, trying to calm you, as he considers his cards silently and takes another drag of his cigar. He’s purposely trying not to draw attention to either of you. It both amazes you and gives you a sense of reassurance. Perhaps there are some lows that even he won’t stoop to.

The only issue is that Rafael Conte won’t stop staring at you.

He knows that you’re not too drunk or high enough to stop your hands from exploring. He’s been keeping track of your leisurely sips of champagne the entire evening. If he doesn’t suspect something is not right yet, he will soon. He’s smart. The same chilling, ruthless smart that reminds you of Tarasov.

If you don’t do this…

It all would have been for nothing. Another failure. If Rafael suspects something is amiss, if he thinks that you are here for any other reason other than being Santino’s lover—

You will never get access to Andre Boutin.

Fuck.

Something cold and slippery rolls inside your stomach at the muffled groan a man closest to you lets out, and the woman wrapped around him titters.

I—

You can do it, John reassures you gently, gripping your shoulder but you blink and it’s Santino’s hand on you instead.

Your eyes meet in the dim light and his hooded gaze is solemn, cautious. He, too, can see how this situation is escalating. Either you adapt or retreat.

All this preparation. You can’t help but wonder if he would still force you—

Fuck this.

And John.

And Santino.

And Kishi and Tarasov and every other asshole that’s ever hurt you.

They can all go to hell.

You’re more than this.

You didn’t survive Tokyo and John’s abandonment just to break apart now. To fail yet again.

Enough.

It’s not real, it’s just an act.

Shifting, you practically straddle Santino and feel his breath hitch when your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling his head back for better access. Your lips press against his jaw, neck, your other hand tugging on his bowtie till the silken material comes loose between your fingers.

His pulse pounds against your mouth and you kiss that golden skin, sucking on it, your lips tingling. You’ve never been physically this close to him before and the heat of him envelops you, his free hand sliding up your back and settling against the arch of your neck. Those strong digits sink in, firm and eager, but he doesn’t push you closer until you lean into him further. You’re chest to chest. Your fingernails scratch against his scalp deliberately and a small sigh escapes him, warming the blood in your veins.

“D’Antonio.”

Tugging on his shirt, you undo the first two buttons in a second, peppering eager little kisses against the curve of his collarbone. The scent of his musky his cologne sinks into your senses, making your head swim and your lips part, your tongue swiping against the skin—

Santino’s hand tangles in your hair and he pulls you back, his wild stare pitch black. With your fingers buried in each other’s hair, you gaze at him for a heated moment, and he at you. Reaching out, you let your fingertips lightly trace up his neck, pausing on his adam’s apple. You draw a lazy circle with the tip of your nail and his breaths grow heavier. Leaning even closer, you let your fingers trail up his chin before your thumb settles on his parted lips.

He’s staring up at you like he has never seen a sight more divine, more sublime, and the heat between you is sweltering.

You’ve forgotten what it is to feel like you’re burning, igniting, coming apart.

“D’Antonio.”

This time his self-restraint doesn’t hold, he jerks you to him till you’re fully on his lap, your foreheads almost touching as you eye each other. His fingers slip from your hair, dragging downwards till he’s grasping the side of your face, his own fingers mapping the shape of your lips as he guides you closer. Like a magnet, you follow his pull. Your mouths hover over each other and the tip of your nose nudges against his cheek, mirroring his eagerness. You grasp onto his hair firmer, those strong strands like silk in your grip. If you pull hard enough, if you kissed him, would he moan—

“D’Antonio, do you mind?”

The haze lifts and you see Santino blink as if snapping himself back to reality, his breaths are laboured, heavy, and you know that you’re hiding him from sight. This slip-up, this moment of hungry eyes and needy touches, is for you alone.

He looks you up and down, as if memorising the sight of you like this—so close to being his—before licking his lips and swallowing as he gathers his composure. His elevated breathing and blown pupils betray him, however. His appearance is dishevelled in that gorgeous, seductive sort of way and a stab of satisfaction follows the realisation that you did this to him.

He slides you carefully to one side and you release your grip on his hair, wrapping both arms around him instead as you smile slightly.

The Italian doesn’t look away from you, giving Rafael only a distracted, “Hm?”

“Make your next play, then feel free to fuck her if you must,” the man drawls, and you focus on Santino and his hair and his eyes because the careless way Rafael speaks about you sets your teeth on edge. Keep calm, keep calm, this is not Kishi. “In fact, after that little display, I’m pretty sure I won’t mind a sampling myself. See if she’s really all mouth.”

Your nails sink into the back of Santino’s shoulders and it takes sizeable effort to keep that bashful smile on your face. The heir finally looks away from you, his attention turning towards your mark, his features hardening.

“Come again?”

Rafael Conte chuckles, a rumble of a sound that unsettles you. “Don’t be shy, D’Antonio,” the man speaks, amused. “You do mine and I’ll do yours. What do you say? Unless mine is not to your liking? I can get another one in here. Two? I’ve heard you’re into that.”

No one else in the room so much as shifts or protests. This is a typical party code for them. Swapping deals, drugs, women, and whatever else they please.

Your skin crawls, those words dousing whatever heat your moment with Santino has managed to awaken in you.

Don’t let him talk about me like that. Don’t let him touch me. Don’t, don’t, please don’t—

Those words burn at the back of your throat and you grit your teeth to hold them in. You can’t risk breaking character like this but—

Kishi grins from the shadowed corner of the enclosed room and you suddenly feel sick.

Santino is quiet for a moment.

You watch his side profile with a halted breath, and another beat of silence follows before a slight smile finally tugs one side of his mouth upwards.

It’s a dangerous, dark thing and your stomach twists into knots.

Please—

“No one touches my woman,” comes his silky, cold declaration and those long fingers rest on the bare skin of your thigh; possessive, protective. “No one.”

The terror and revulsion in your veins ebbs, ebbs, his words echoing—

You don’t care about how untrue they are. That you both know that you’re not his in any sense of the word nor will you ever be.

The conviction, the threat, the protection—those are real.

For the first time since Tokyo, since John, you don’t feel alone.

A peculiar sort of hush falls over everyone at that.

“In fact, hm, why don’t you go and freshen up, principessa?” he suggests and lifts your chin with his index finger so he can look you in the eyes. “I’m almost done here. We can go back to the hotel after. I’ve missed those pretty sounds you make when I’m inside you. Yes?”

He can see it.

And feel it, too.

The way your skin has gone cold and clammy. How a tremor shakes your muscles. How you grip onto him but your eyes keep skipping towards every shadow in the room. How your serene, sensuous demeanour is no doubt splintering right in front of him.

He’s giving you an out.

Your nails sink into him briefly and you force yourself to act, force yourself to continue on.

Cupping the side of his face, you press a lingering kiss to his cheek. There is nothing sexual about it. Only a distinct feeling of gratitude that strums through you with the same intensity your earlier interaction did.

Your eyes flutter close briefly, the tip of your nose pressing into the smell of his aftershave, and you image to everyone else it might look like you’re simply clinging onto him, unwilling to be parted.

Standing on stiff legs, you straighten your spine, and don’t flinch as Santino continues the performance, staring up at you, lowering his cards so he can touch your knee. He rubs a soothing circle there and his lips twitch.

“Don’t take too long now, hm?”

Your hand trembles when you reach for him, and you hope that the darkness of the room helps to mask it. Despite that, you still manage to swipe back unruly strands of his hair that have fallen into his eyes. Like a refined feline, he arches into your touch, a faint smirk appearing, and you rearrange your facial expression into something unassuming.

Trying to speak fails, so you simply dip your head once, and pull away from him. It takes everything you have to keep your footsteps steady and unhurried as you exit the small room.

The world around you splinters.

Pathetic.

Look at you.

“Shut up.”

It’s a choked, weak mess of an exhale. It hurts to talk and you grip the sink harder, your knuckles straining under your skin as you wheeze.

Your frightened eyes reflect in the mirror and you note how your expression crumbles in despair. Just hours ago, you had looked at your reflection in the hotel room mirror and felt beautiful for the first time since Tokyo. Since something was tarnished and stolen away from you.

Now mascara smears under your eyes and your waxen expression betrays you.

You need—

John.

You need John.

I need you. I need you. Where are you?

Kishi sinks his bony fingers into your arm and you flinch, jerking backwards. The incandescent bathroom lights scorch behind your closed eyelids, and you grapple for the running tap, letting the freezing water pour over your hands.

It hurts more, petrifies you more, but it also keeps you lucid, coherent enough to hear the bathroom door opening behind you.

“So—sorry, it’s busy! Could—could you please use—”

“The Vipress.”

You freeze.

You’re trembling but your head tilts upwards, and in the mirror reflection you see Rafael Conte leaning against the bathroom door with his arms folded over his chest.

Those dark eyes narrow and the grin on his face makes you become terribly aware just how unprepared you are for this type of confrontation. He’s taller, stronger, and heavier.

While usually, that would hardly bother you—both John and Cassian have taught you plenty of ways to take down individuals who severely outclass you in a physical sense—that was then.

The husk of a person you have deteriorated to is not as confident in her skills.

How he even found you is beyond you. You didn’t tell anyone where you were going, didn’t bother finding Ares in the crowd of people because she was instructed to mingle and collect information. You purposely didn’t go in the casino bathroom or the one right outside the ballroom. You went through the bother of trekking halfway across the hotel just to find a secluded bathroom far away from the main event.

Just your goddamn luck.

Keeping him in your sight, you straighten.

Where is Santino?

“The viper that never strikes twice. I wondered why D’Antonio would bring you,” the man says after you keep silent and his smile turns more cutting. “But then I realised that this might be something more than just business.”

“This—this is neutral ground,” you force out, trying and failing to keep your voice even. “There is nothing—”

“Shut your fucking mouth,” the man snaps, stepping from the door and you twist around, glaring at him. “Do you think I’m stupid? I know he’s up to something. You will tell me what, or I will send your head back to Viggo Tarasov as a present.”

Your hand flies down but he’s faster.

A pistol appears in front of your face just as your fingers wrap around a blade strapped to your inner thigh.

“I don’t think so,” the man growls and steps closer. “Drop it.”

The water from the tap keeps running noisily, and you try to calculate how quickly he would be able to pull that trigger. Would you be able to throw your blade faster? Or would he react quicker?

Don’t let him corner you, John warns sternly, or you will lose.

You let the blade drop. Rafael marches towards you, shoving the barrel of the pistol under your chin, tilting your head. He glowers at you, the heavy set of his eyebrows pinching. “Why are you here?”

“Get fucked.”

His palm connects with your cheek, a flare of agony numbing the right side of your face. He jerks you closer by the hair, pressing the barrel painfully into your cheek.

“I will blow your fucking brains out, princess,” he warns harshly, and shakes you once, your teeth clenching. “Is D’Antonio really worth dying for? Answer me!”

Your knee drives between his legs and you duck when his grip on your hair loosens, ignoring the painful tear. You strike his arm, the pistol slipping but he grabs it just before it falls, kicking you in the stomach as you slam against the sinks with a loud thud. You gasp in pain, trying to grab onto the edge of the basin to straighten yourself, but your weak muscles struggle to obey and Rafael grabs you by the throat. He slams you into the mirror and then again.

And again.

The mirror cracks and you choke down a sob of pain, everything blurring.

“You know,” the man pants, and his grip on your neck tightens, choking you. “I expected more from John Wick’s partner. His little protege. But you’re pathetic.”

He slams you against the mirror again. “Tell me what D’Antonio is doing here,” he demands, giving you another shake and you feel something wet staining the back of your head. “Tell me or I will drown the truth out of you.”

A handkerchief gets pushed into the sink, trapping the still pouring water, and you let out a whimper of pure terror.

No—no—no—

Rafael grasp you by the back of your neck, and you kick at him but your muscles are frail with exhaustion and panic, failing you when you need them most.

The man hits one of your legs and you crumple, your face flying towards the half-full sink as you let out a sob. No matter how much you struggle or try to push yourself back, you’re not strong enough.

Another brutal shove downwards.

You’re never—

The bathroom door slams open with a deafening bang.

“Get your fucking hands off her.”

A slight chuckle against your neck. “D’Antonio. Slow as always.”

The grip on you loosens and you slump to the floor. Footsteps step over you, but Rafael’s gleaming shoes don’t miss your trembling digits. He steps on them on purpose and you flinch as the sink overflows, spilling water all over the white tile floor.

“I will skin you alive for this.”

You can’t remember ever hearing Santino so furious before.

“Sure you will,” Rafael remarks and the mirth in his voice is clear. “You know my father always told me to never trust you D’Antonio’s. He said that you all have the devil in you. Especially your psychopath father and that frigid bitch you have for a sister. You’re just the leftover people tolerate because they’re scared of your father. After San Diego, I knew my father was right.”

“What’s the matter, old friend,” Santino wonders in Italian, his voice honey and rage all at once. “Can’t handle a bit of competition, hm?”

Your forehead slides across the tiles when you turn your head, a wall of tears blurring your vision as you try to blink them away. Violent shivers wreck your body as water roars in your ears and your body convulses. Blinking, you try to tighten your bruised fingers into a fist. It’s then that your eyes snag onto an object an arm length away from you.

“I sure can. Because I don’t fear weak fuckers like you,” Rafael shoots back coolly and you hear the cocking of the pistol as he aims it at Santino. “I would be lying if I said that I will not enjoy this.”

Santino.

A meeting in a church.

“I always get what I want.”

A favour without a charge.

“I’m not doing this for him but for you.”

An offer of help.

“You can stay with me, cara mia. My home can be your home. It will not be for free but no harm will come to you.”

Burgundy suits.

“I need you.”

Arms around you, something in his eyes you have never seen before—something genuine.

“You.”

You slam into Rafael with full awareness of what this will mean.

“Fear me.”

You plunge the poisoned blade deep into his neck.

. . .

an: can you believe Santino D’Antonio really hit that high this early on and then....just never been able to hit it since lmao. amazing. anyway whooooooooooooo babey!!!! if you read this in one sitting, please pat yourself on the back, soldier. sorry that I didn’t have time to reply to everyone about the last chapter. life has just been a big ‘ol mess as you all know, and I’ve been really busy and blocked so if this chapter reads funny....well then......though, as always, I’m super excited to hear your thoughts. :D

as always you’re all incredible, amazing, and the best so please take care of yourselves! <333

#john wick #john wick x reader #santino d'antonio #santino d'antonio x reader #john wick x you #john wick imagine #john wick fic #santino d'antonio imagine #riccardo scamarcio #fanfic #fic: children of ares

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aprito · 4 years

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hello <3 since i got these asks at the same time i decided to combine my thoughts on them in this post. yet another annoying sjw essay from yours truly on this blog

before i get into these i think i need to preface why im like. i guess overly hyperfocused on a certain unproblematic base (same age au / platonic canon) for them and avoid the ped0philic content like the plague lol

tw for pedophilia ment, rape ment if that makes you squicky. ALSO THIS IS LONG AND RAMBLY

as i’ve mentioned a couple times already, ive been into the ship since i was 12, back when it was very very common to not only post untagged (nsfw) canonverse content of the two in writing and in drawing but also non con and the like, so you can imagine how bad my first impression online was. thinking back on it ...as a child i found it disturbing but didnt really register how problematic it really was?? (i know, but i also lived in the middle of nowhere and had no one explain this to me)

skip to 2014 aka me coming back to naruto at 17ish and i had kinda become hyper aware of the fact that there was an increasing amount of people online who had come forward with explaining how fictional problematic content, mostly pedophilia, had been used to groom them into starting relationships with adullts. it was also a time where a lot of people didnt believe these victims, not registering how common it was for minors to be online friends with adults who had no boundaries and no qualms exposing them such content. not gonna get into my personal life here but i was lucky to not having gone through this myself. like... it kinda was my first time truly realising how fiction can EASILY be used to manipulate others irl (and yes i will not argue this, if you dont think fictional media can form and manipulate people’s opinions on attitudes, countries, cultures and virtues, pick up a book about the effects of propaganda media at least once please)

i, being young, still liking the dynamic but not really the romance, would point this out here and there in the fandom and get into fights with grown adults in their mid 20s who assumed i automatically hated the ship(s) and tried to restrict their freedom of speech or whatever, heard everything from the “age of consent doesnt exist in naruto” to the “sasori looks like a child what does it matter” despite people clearly playing on him being older and experienced. it made me so upset that people were just consuming all this content uncritically and exposing children to it tbh?? not really just sos but a lot of minor/adult ships in naruto in general. and thats where i sat down and thought, i do not want to be a grown adult talking down to children that point out how unsafe the fandom is. theyre absolutely right in drawing these boundaries and calling out adults who defend the uncritical consumption and creation of this content. i do not want to consume or create content that predators could use to groom minors, and i absolutely do want to let younger people in fandom know that i am respecting their comfort zones and want them to have a safe and fun experience. after all, naruto is not an adult show and i think a lot of people forget that!!!! i am not perfect in that regard but its something that i, at the age of 23, am very passionate about and strive towards to.

and i guess thats where same age au was born for me and i have been sticking to it ever since.

so finally we can move to the first question

aside from the fact that we both dont like canon sos, i dont think it would work out even if i wasnt prejudiced to it anyways. in all honesty, 35 year old canon sasori is not a redeemable character to me, given the fact that he’s easily amongst the cruelest villains in naruto (torturing and killing and taxiderming people for his own fun personal gain, never for a goal that served anyone but himself. how do you redeem having over 300 corpses in your backpack that you felt absolutely no remorse for killing). sasori was legit one of the only cruel villains that didnt had someone else pull the strings, which sends a clear message on kishi’s part, who absolutely loves to redeem villains LOL.

being that old, he obviously had already been very manifested in what he believed in, even if it was shakey, to the point where the first crack in that world view (sakura and chiyo protecting each other) immediately had him give up on his life all together. that, in my opinion, is not a man who’s going to know what healthy relationships would look like, regardless of it being romantic or not. 35 year old sasori to me has the same appeal as an expired can of tuna and he’s probably very happy 6 feet under. he’s supposed to be a failed gaara in that sense that he had no one to look out for him and therefore was never going to experience anything but a bad ending in life. its fine that hes dead honestly, it wraps up his short character development the best IMO.

adding to that, seriously, sakura was obviously interested in knowing why he was that way, and called him out for being seriously fucked in the head, but it’s weird to me that people assume she had any interest in actively rehabilitating him, let alone starting a serious romantic relationship with him. sakura who’s not only very, uhm, immature and straight forward when it comes to her romantic viewpoints also, as a big bootlicker, wouldnt soil her standing in the village by starting anything with a disgraced and far too gone criminal like sasori. shipping that version of sasori with sakura intimately is still going to set her up for a huge power imbalance that would be difficult to handle imo, even if she was the one in the fight ultimately exerting her power over him. i would still look at it and think damn she deserves better than having to play therapist for man like that lol.

additionally, even if you ignored all of this, you cant really ignore that sasori had already known her as a child, and that had been his first and most impactful impression of her. i dont think that sasori would look at 35 year old sakura and see her as a grown woman and not the little green girl she was in the fight. plus, you easily fall into predatory comparison territory between the “childish” and “womanly” and i have seen way too often in fic just being boiled down to her now being fuckable. a lot of of ships do this and i would just like to remind yall thats it not normal for adults to want to start relationships with children they have seen grown up or known as a child when they themselves were fully grown adults. therefore, maybe if sakura hadnt met sasori before it would be less of a problem? but that also obviously defeats the point of the dynamic and the reason he died in the first place. so yeah, it sounds kind of doomed especially if you were to make it romantic.

WHICH BRINGS ME TO THE SECOND QUESTION

let me preface this that im not fundamentally against age gaps, even if im not super interested in it. after all, colorblind had a 5 yr age gap (with sakura being 21), even if, say, i wrote similar fics today i probably would make it smaller lol. i think it can be handled well if both parties have enough life experience to deal with it, and the author is cautious of where the age gap starts, i think a 10+ year age gap would be fine in a scenario where the younger party (i guess sakura) was at least 25-27ish, meaning she has completed most of her most formative life stages and probably had been in relationships before, meaning she would be able to handle it without having to fear a huge power imbalance. the older the younger party is the less the age gap is going to matter tbh .TsukiHoshino and AngelOfDeath10 both handle age gaps in their fics really well imo, so i do not mind reading about them.

unfortunately, a lot of people in this fandom think making sakura barely "”””legal””””” (18, not even 20 which is hilarious to me because the source material is obviously japanese) because they both cannot stand her being past her “prime years” of being young fertile and fuckable to much older men as well as thinking a 20 year old is automatically old enough to handle that type of relationship. ive seen a lot of unironic takes that believe it will absolve them of callout posts if they throw around age of consent and “shes 18 now suckers!!!” enough lmfao. absolutely hilarious. aging a minor up without aging the adult down seriously reeks of predatory “cant wait until youre 18″ narratives and thats why i find it similarly disturbing as straight up pedo shipping.

ultimately, sasosaku is and will always be a inherently problematic ship in canon, which is why i think it should always be handled a little more responsibly in fandom spaces, ignoring or outright excusing the main problem factor, which is sasori, isnt going to convince anyone that the dynamic in itself is well written and interesting enough to explore in aus, like giving sasori the redemption most of us wanted him to have by aging him down to a point in time where he was still realistically going to allow being positively influenced, similar to gaara.

so really, what i think is well handled age gap and how most people handle age gap in the naruto fandom are two different worlds at times lol

tl;dr

canon shippers have never been anything but gross when i was younger and i didnt wanna be like that, even if youre “smart”enough to differenate, actual creeps dont really care and might use your content to blur the lines, sasori isnt rly redeemable so romantic canonverse realistically wouldnt make much sense and is still iffy, age gaps are fine if they are handled well, but given that the dynamic doesnt really need the age gap to still work im not that invested on making that an essential part of my shipping experience.

thank you for reading and hope this makes sense!

#nonitxt #meta #another hot take from me #but seriously if you're offended over these #unfollow me lol idc #defending predatory content is not a hill im gonna die on in this life

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blackcloverdatabase · 5 years

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English Translation of Novel 3: Chapter 4 – The Hero Who Disappeared (Part 2 of 2)

Here’s the second half of the final chapter of the Book of Yuno. In short, this chapter features Yuno and Asta being awesome. There’s also a scene showing William and Patry, more Mereoleona, and, finally, Yuno finds an answer to William’s question.

As a brief recap of part 1 (which you can read here if you missed it), this part picks up after Yuno drops the drawing given to him by a young girl named Silka. After examining the drawing more closely, he makes a realization and asks William to show him what’s in his book pouch.

--- The Hero Who Disappeared: Part 2 ---

A few minutes later, at the reception hall,

“Please help me! I’m being chased by evil mages!”

Another play had just begun on stage. Though the number of children gathered around the stage was overwhelmingly smaller than before, the guest seating was completely filled. The cast was drastically changed so that a major accident due to that last play’s fatal casting error would never occur again. The theater staff advertised that there would be a lot of famous people on stage, and it looked like their strategy worked.

While he was thinking, he walked toward the front row of the audience. He tried going around the venue and touching other Magic Knights, but Yuno would be the best new “host” for him after all. Earlier, everything was so sudden that he took on an appearance that would make it easier to escape from Yuno and the others, but now he’s ready. By simply exposing other people to the Original Sin, he can completely takeover their consciousness.

“……Kishi~ There he is.”

He sneered as he spotted Yuno and Bell. As he thought, Yuno was standing guard right below the stage as he did before. He crept up behind Yuno, carefully closing the distance between them as he concealed his presence. Like the other spectators, Yuno was looking up at the stage, so he was able to shorten the distance between them in no time. Once he was close enough to touch him, he reached for his Original Sin Grimoire, but…

“!!”

Yuno nimbly turned around and grabbed his arm, then yelled,

“I’ve caught the host of the Original Sin Grimoire! Surround him!”

Suddenly, the audience and performers moved at once, surrounding Yuno and himself in the blink-of-an-eye.

“Wha-!?”

He involuntarily cried out. To think that a few Magic Knights were hidden within the audience…… No, the entire audience was comprised of Magic Knights. Moreover, they were all people he hasn’t seen before. Either he called over new Magic knights or they’ve changed their faces with magic. All the children that were in the audience have disappeared, so they must be using magic. The one who caused all this must be……

Quickly but meticulously assessing the situation, he clicked his tongue. Yuno looked straight at him and said,

“No need for you to pretend to be a kid anymore, Al…… no, avatar of the Original Sin.”

“……You’ve got me. You’re good at sensing magic, so I tried to stay away from you.”

The avatar, Al, looked bored as he responded, seemingly unworried about his current predicament.

“So, how did you figure me out…… Yuno-niichan?”

He innocently giggled as he asked, continuing to maintain his guise as a child. Yuno hid his irritation, daring to glare at him with cold eyes as he answered,

“……It was Silka’s drawing. You had a book pouch in her drawing, but you don’t receive a grimoire until you’re fifteen. A child like you shouldn’t need a book pouch, right?”

All this from a drawing that made him a bit uneasy.

Of course, Al doesn’t have a book pouch right now. That’s why, at first, Yuno thought it was just a mistake Silka made while she was drawing. Still, it worried Yuno because in the drawing Al gave to Vangeance…… he did not draw a book pouch. He thought that maybe Al forgot to draw it, but if he purposefully didn’t draw it, then that would imply something else entirely.

- Al usually wears a book pouch, but he’s hiding it. –

In other words, Silka included something in her drawing that he didn’t want Yuno to see. He felt as if he got a glimpse of Al’s true intentions. Moreover, the reason Yami felt the Ki of the Original Sin from Vangeance is that he had Al’s drawing with him.

“……Hm~ Good for you. To think you’d get this far just from some small……. stupidly trivial detail. It practically a coincidence. Aah~, this sucks.”

Just as the avatar said, his hypothesis was based on something truly, stupidly trivial. Even so, an ordinary organization wouldn’t mobilize over something like that. Right, a normal organization wouldn’t.

“……Yeah, you’re right. Everyone who excels in magic detection was willing to take my absurd hypothesis seriously, and when they gathered together, they were able to sense your mana.”

As a result of that, they were able to sense the Original Sin’s mana from him.

“In order to trap you, so many people gathered here in such a short period of time. Even if you didn’t come here on your own, we prepared a way lure you out.”

Even knights who had just finished their shifts and knights who were off duty that day came to help. They were all more than happy to cooperate with Yuno, rushing to his aid.

“Everyone was willing to mobilize all for the sake of a single Magic Knight. To resolve a single incident, we are all able to act as one…… This is the organization you made an enemy out of.”

Yuno said this as he looked at each of the Magic Knights who had gathered.

“And, the place where you decided to do your evil deeds is the country where this organization’s members risk their lives to protect…… did you really think we’d let you get away with that?”

‘I love the Magic Knights and this country.’

Those words Yuno uttered earlier that day came flooding back into his brain. While amplifying such feelings inside him, that was the forceful declaration he made to Al.

“………Hmph.”

In the face of Yuno’s overwhelming spirit, the avatar turned his gaze away, feeling ever so slightly overwhelmed. However, as if to hide that fact, he said,

“Ah, I see…… Well, it doesn’t matter to me~ I admit that I was careless. I thought I could wear my book pouch in front of Silka because she’s a kid, but look what happened~ Wow, I really goofed up.”

He joked frivolously before the look in his eyes sharpened.

“If I had known this was going to happen, I would’ve killed her…… I really goofed up.”

Hearing him utter such disturbing words strained the nerves of the Magic Knights who surrounded them. Among them, Yuno responded with eyes just as icy as before.

“By the way, the moment you came here, we created a barrier around the reception hall. Nobody can leave, and nobody outside can see what’s going on in here. Even if other people infected by the Original Sin are here, they won’t even notice what’s going on.”

Right. It was possible that there were other people infected with the Original Sin lurking at this event, so they prepared extra safety measures. Moreover, even if they were protected by the barrier, if a battle suddenly let loose in the reception hall, the citizens would panic. To avoid that, they completely isolated the avatar within a physical and visual barrier.

“Even without that barrier, you’re still surrounded. Give up quietly.”

But, in response to Yuno’s words, the avatar simply put his index finger on his mouth and said,

“Hm~ then, conversely, I don’t have to surrender as long as I break through you people and the barrier, right?

“Huuh!? Are you stupid!? There’s no way you could do that!”

Unperturbed by Bell’s jeers, the avatar lightly surveyed his surroundings.

“I wonder about that? I think I can do it if I try…… after all,”

A wicked glint shone in his eyes.

“I’m the “first” Original Sin, so I can do a lot~”

“Huh……?”

An instant after Yuno stammered,

“Guaaaaaaaaaah……Ah, GAAAAAAAAH!”

All at once, dozens…no, tens of dozens of knights gripped their heads as if they were in pain.

“H-hey! What’s wrong with you! Why’re you suddenly using your magi-ACK!”

“Idiot! Don’t use such large-scale magic in a small place like this!”

Those tens of dozens of knights began attacking their colleagues, as if they lost all sense of self.

“……What!?”

The avatar used Yuno’s agitation as a chance to escape his grasp and lightly hopped onto the stage.

“Ki-shi-shi~ I’ve already broken through the first barrier you set! Your encirclement was too easy to escape~”

“You bastard…… what did you do!?”

“It’s just as you see. I’m just remotely letting their personalities and mana run wild. Well, this is magic that only I, the original, can use. It only affects people with the correct wavelength, but there’s even more of them affected by it than I thought there would be.”

Just as the avatar said, about one-third of the knights who were gathered seemed to be affected by his magic, attacking their surroundings indiscriminately. With the remaining knights working to stop them, it looked just like a free-for-all battle.

“Ki-shi~ Thank you for creating an environment where I can best demonstrate my powers.”

As the avatar said this, Yuno could sense invisible tentacles beginning to sprout from his back. They wriggled and writhed like snakes as they grew, swaying eerily as they pointed their heads toward Yuno.

“……Now, become my new host, Yuno-niichan.”

The last battle with the Original Sin had begun.

“Wind Magic: Towering Tornado”

With the activation of Yuno’s magic, he generated a forcefield of wind around the feet of the avatar. From there, a tornado sprung forth into the sky. The avatar leaped to the side to avoid it and sent forth his tentacles from various angles to attack Yuno, but,

“UOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooh!”

At that moment, Asta leaped out from behind Yuno, slashing each of the tentacles that made their way to Yuno. Yuno unleashed a slew of different wind-based spells as Asta used his ability to read Ki to detect and strike the avatar’s invisible tentacles. In the few minutes since the battle had begun, the two were able to hold their ground, but the battle was at a standstill. The other knights were focused on stopping the knights who were rampaging, so Asta and Yuno were the only two who could focus on fighting the avatar…… Moreover, it was impossible to know how long it would take for the others to stop the rampaging knights.

“……What the heck, Asta? Didn’t you transform into an old man?”

To distract himself from such negative thoughts, Yuno joked with Asta as he stood beside him. In response, Asta pointed his sword at the avatar and laughed ferociously.

“I can’t just stay spaced-out in a situation like this! ……. Well, this opponent is gonna be pretty hard to fight.”

As he spoke, sweat dripped from his forehead, as if he were feeling under pressure.

“When I think about how our opponent’s a kid, I feel like I can’t fight at full strength……!”

“……Don’t worry about it. He may look like a kid, but on the inside, he nuts. In that sense, he’s just like you.”

“Are you saying I look like a kid!?”

“So, you’re not going to deny that you’re nuts?”

Their fierce battle with the avatar continued as they bantered. However, as Asta said, he couldn’t help but hold back with each attack, making him unable to land a decisive hit. Yuno, too, only used his weaker spells. Unable to land a decisive blow, they fell into a stalemate. He knew they couldn’t keep on like this. The longer the fight is prolonged, the more casualties will be produced at the hands of the rampaging knights. He understood that, but he couldn’t help but hold back, frustrating Yuno even further.

“Ki-shi-shi~ It looks like you’re getting frustrated there~ ……. Why don’t you take a little break and make a deal with me?”

He said when Yuno and Asta attacked the Original Sin together, stopping their attack dead in its tracks with a single hand. Of course, he was still on high alert, not erasing his tentacles. Yuno also maintained his guard, narrowing his eyes as he asked in turn,

“A deal?”

“Yup. I’ll free all the knights rampaging under my spell right away, and in return…”

As he spoke, he pointed to Yuno and Asta like a kid pointing to the toy they want.

“Give me either your body, Yuno-niichan, or your body, Asta-niichan. In return, I’ll free everyone else here.”

“Are you kidding!? What kind of deal is that!? Those terms are too unfair!”

Asta shouted in response. However, as he viewed the state of the battle being waged between the audience seats, he replied,

“Really~? If the battle continues to drag on, at this rate, those knights will die, and one of them might use magic powerful enough to break the barrier. If that happens, a lot of the townspeople will die!”

Noting Asta’s silence, the Original Sin giggled cheerfully as he continued,

“But, if either of you hands over your body to me, I’ll let them all go free. Isn’t that great!? And then, all you would need to do is find me again. If things go well for you, you’ll even be able to get your body back! Isn’t this an amazing deal!?”

“………”

‘There will surely come a time where you’ll have to make a choice when there is no right answer.’

Yuno could feel Vangeance’s words from earlier reach out from his chest and into his mind. As a Magic Knight, he shouldn’t be making any deals with unfamiliar, dangerous magic tools. He should resume the battle immediately and gallantly stand against him. However, the avatar spoke the truth. If this situation continues, the townspeople are going to get drawn into the battle. Shouldn’t a Magic Knight offer his body to protect the people? He wasn’t sure what the right answer was. Perhaps there would be a clear answer in hindsight, but it’s difficult for anyone to judge what is right when faced with the present. However……

‘Make a decision you can be satisfied with……’

Those words seemed obvious to Yuno. Vangeance, the hero of the Clover Kingdom, imparted such an “obvious” thing onto Yuno as if they were his parting words, as if that was the conclusion he had reached after a long struggle with choices and decisions. In this situation, the choice that would be most satisfying to Yuno would be……

“……I understand. I’ll become your host.”

“Wait! Yuno!? What are you saying!?”

Ignoring Bell’s attempts to restrain him, Yuno stepped forward. The avatar narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

“Hm~, you really plan on giving yourself to me? You didn’t seem all that interested in my deal earlier, though?”

In response, Yuno silently raised his right hand and launch a full-powered “Towering Tornado” toward the sky. This broke through part of the barrier in the sky, forming a hole just large enough for one person to pass through.

“Once you’ve made me your host, escape through there. There are captains outside, but you should be fine if you take a hostage. However, promise me that you will return the hostage unharmed later.”

Bell’s face turned pale as she listened.

‘Is he seriously making a deal with the Original Sin…..?’

“……Hey, Yuno.”

While Bell was frozen in confusion, Asta stared at Yuno’s retreating figure as he spoke.

“Did you come up with an idea?”

Yuno turned his head over his shoulder, pausing briefly before responding.

“I leave the rest to you…… Asta.”

Leaving only those words behind, he slowly walked toward the Original Sin.

“Ki-shi-shi, I don’t really get what happened, but it looks like you’re serious! I’ll be pouring a huge amount of mana into you, so do your best to endure it, ‘kay? It’s going to be so painful, you’ll want to die!”

The tentacles wrapped around Yuno’s defenseless body, and the avatar made a dash toward him. From his chest, he pulled out his white grimoire, the Original Sin, but…

“Just kidding~”

He passed by Yuno, pressing his grimoire onto Asta’s body.

“I decided I don’t want you after all, Yuno-niichan. I’ll use Asta-niichan as my new host instead!”

“Gua…….. Ah, AAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”

Having the Original Sin Grimoire pushed into him, Asta screamed as his body convulsed.

“……Hey, this isn’t what we agreed to!”

Yuno desperately shouted while restrained by the tentacles. The Original Sin lightly tilted his head toward Yuno and smiled.

“Don’t give me that. After all, Yuno-niichan was planning to screw me over, right? You were glaring at me the whole time. Plus, I’m the Original Sin. There’s no way I’d believe the words of someone who set such a massive trap for me.”

He snapped back with disdain. Then, he looked at Asta’s two swords, causing him to say with irritation,

“Plus, those swords…… are not something humans such as yourselves should possess. I’ll take them back.”

Then, he turned back toward Yuno with a smirk.

“I was lying when I said I’d let those knights go. You really shouldn’t make important deals with kids, you know?”

“………!”

With those words, Yuno hung his head down. He made a decision he could be satisfied with. To think that this would be the result of that.

“……This is following my predictions so closely that I’m honestly shocked. Is my plan seriously going that well?”

“……Huh?”

The avatar stammered at the words Yuno said to himself. At that moment,

“That hurt you bastard! What the hell did you do!?”

After getting through the pain, Asta regained consciousness and yelled.

“……Huh? Wait? .....W-why haven’t you been taken over……GAH!”

The avatar lightly tapped his temple in thought as Asta forcibly pulled the Original Sin grimoire out of his chest,

“Oraah!!”

And used all his might to pierce through the grimoire with his large sword. In that instant, the tentacles which were spread throughout the stage vanished, and the knights who were being controlled lost consciousness and fell to the ground.

“……What? Wait? …... But…… why?”

The avatar, too, fell to the ground, his eyes wide with shock, unable to believe what was unfolding around him.

“Oh, I didn’t tell you?”

Yuno approached his miserable figure, informing him as he ruffled Asta’s hair,

“This guy hasn’t had a single drop of mana in him since he was born, so if you try to take over his body using his mana as an intermediary, then you probably won’t succeed. That said, you’re welcome to keep trying…… Well, I guess I didn’t bother explaining that to you earlier since you’re just a kid.”

“D-don’t screw with…… guh.”

The avatar lost consciousness while he was speaking. Seeing that, Yuno sighed deeply in relief before calling out,

“Mimosa, please heal the avatar…… no, Al. Everyone else should help treat the injured…... we’ve won.”

With those words, everyone cheered in victory. Standing upon the stage, Yuno looked just like a hero who led his troops to victory. He didn’t really want all that attention…… but he was happy that there were no casualties.

“Hey, you handsome bastard!”

“……Oof.”

Just as Yuno dropped his guard, Asta punched him in the stomach, making Yuno let out a strange noise. Ignoring the noise Yuno let out, Asta energetically drew even closer to Yuno.

“You offered your body to the Original Sin because you knew that was gonna happen, didn’t you!?”

Yuno answered as he gently rubbed his stomach, wondering if Asta meant for his punch to hurt that much.

“Well, I knew that he was a rather contrary person, so if I made him think that I was up to something, I had a hunch that he would go after you rather than me.”

He thought there was a possibility that he would try to take over Asta, who has no magic, and he believed that, if he created a gap that Asta could exploit, he would destroy the Original Sin. He felt bad for inflicting so much pain on Asta, but Asta is used to that kind of thing, so he was able to make such a decision. As a result, they were able to achieve victory, but Asta seemed dissatisfied.

“That’s fine, but what were you planning to do if that guy actually took your body over!?”

“……Well, if he did that, all you would have needed to do is beat him, right?”

With a slight smile on his face, Yuno put his hand on Asta’s head once more.

“Even if he did take over my body, I have no doubt you would have found a way to beat him…… that’s why I said I would leave the rest to you.”

Yuno’s words left Asta in a daze for a moment, but, before long, he had his usual grin on his face before punching Yuno’s stomach one more time.

“Shut up, you handsome bastard! Don’t think you can persuade me with that!”

“I wasn’t trying to. I was just saying. Stop being so violent.”

They started fooling around as they usually do, but then……

“I’m…… not…… done!”

A voice emanated from the Original Sin grimoire that Asta had stabbed,

“I’M NOT DONE YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEET!!”

Suddenly, a golden eye appeared at the center of the grimoire, and it started moving on its own, tearing its own body to escape from Asta’s sword. It flew up into the sky, followed by a trail of golden light as it headed toward the hole Yuno had opened earlier.

“……Are you kidding me!? I didn’t know it could do that!!”

“Apparently, it can…... but, if it were that easy, it would have done this from the beginning. Most likely, it’s using up the last of its strength, so one more push should defeat it.”

While Yuno and Asta spoke with each other, they followed after the Original Sin using Yuno’s wind magic. As they followed in pursuit, Asta readied his sword, closing his eyes in concentration as he held his sword to his side.

“……UWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH!!”

Pitch-dark magic rose from one half of his body until he was clad in black anti-magic. Then, he launched himself toward the Original Sin.

“Hey, bastard!! You probably don’t want to hear this from me, but you really don’t know when to quit, do you!? Just give up! You probably don’t want to hear that from me, though!!”

“Ki shi~…… I’m not trying to…… survive.”

The Original Sin retorted bitterly as it passed through the hole in the barrier. The eye on the grimoire moved about as it looked down on the capital. Then, suddenly, its magical power began to rise.

“But, I refuse to die alone……. I’ll self-destruct and take the entire city with me……!”

“……Don’t screw with me!! What could you possibly gain by doing that!?”

“Don’t bother, Asta…… it’s not a matter of what he will gain or lose. I’m sure he must have his own reasons for making the decision he has made.”

Yuno called out, having followed behind Asta and the Original Sin. The Original Sin opened its eye and bellowed with deep held resentment.

“Shut up….. Shut up shut up shut up! What could you possibly know about me!? You don’t know what I’ve been through, so don’t talk like you understand me!”

“I don’t…… I really don’t, but you’re the same. You don’t know our circumstances, either…… You don’t know what we can never forgive, nor what we must protect.”

As Yuno spoke, he exchanged looks with Bell, and his body began to draw the mana from his surroundings into him. At the same time, his body became wrapped in pale green light. Before long, a wing of ghostly light sprouted from his left side, and the green light wrapped around his left hand into a crown-like ring.

“Spirit Assimilation: Spirit Dive”

Witnessing such tremendous magical power before his eyes, the Original Sin froze in terror. Even the citizens below looked up at the sky, their mouths agape in blank amazement.

‘This is the culmination of Spirit Magic, reached after an unfathomable amount of effort…!’

The magical power which Yuno was clad in was so overwhelming that it forced such thoughts into the minds of all who saw him, but, even so, Yuno’s expression looked a little sorrowful.

“That’s why, this is what I’ve decided to do…... I’m sorry.”

With those words, he pointed his left hand toward the Original Sin.

“Wind Spirit Magic: Spirit Storm”

“GUUAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!”

A vortex of light exploded forth with a roar, overwhelming both the Original Sin’s mana and its screams as it dispersed into the sky of the royal capital.

‘……It looks like they were able to resolve everything safely.’

Vangeance walked through the plaza, which had regained its peacefulness and liveliness. He wasn’t patrolling. He was simply taking a stroll, wanting to watch the faces of the townspeople and Magic Knights as they enjoyed themselves. He thought that clearing up the turmoil left behind by the attack and explaining things to the townspeople would be an arduous task, but…… things went a lot more smoothly than he was expecting. When he explained that the Original Sin had slipped into the venue, there was a considerable amount of panic, but when he explained that it had been defeated, he raised Yuno and Asta up as heroes, telling the townspeople about the “heroes who fought against the dangerous magic weapon”. With that, the townspeople’s anxieties were completely wiped out and replaced with celebration.

Such propaganda… well, it certainly sounds bad when framed like that, was necessary to reduce the public’s unease. As a result, the trust the Magic Knights lost today was completely restored, and, after repairing the reception hall, he continued the event. He thought about discontinuing the festival, but with the public’s support, he decided to continue as planned. Since it was such a special event, Vangeance decided that he wanted to enjoy the atmosphere of the festival a little, too. And so, he began walking around on his own.

……Well, technically speaking, he wasn’t alone. More precisely, ever since the day he was born, Vangeance has never been alone.

‘So? What are your thoughts after having seen the first Original Sin?’

This question was directed inward toward his other self, Patry, who shared his body.

‘……Hm, it was exactly what I thought it was.’

After a short pause, Patry responded from within Vangeance’s heart. It has been a long time since they became able to communicate through their souls, but it was rare for them to exchange words in public as they were doing now. However, Vangeance wanted to ask Patry as soon as possible.

‘……You mean that it was one of the prototypes of a magic tool you elves made with the humans several hundred years ago?’

Within his heart, he could feel Patry nod his head in silence.

‘……Although, I really couldn’t believe it until I saw it. To think that one of the magic tools we made remained here, completely unbroken. On top of that, it was even revived in modern times…...’

At first, he thought that someone simply made something similar to it and released it into the public. However, as the investigation continued, he noticed more and more similarities between the ancient magic tool they had built and the Original Sin. Moreover, a few days ago, when Charlotte spoke with one of its avatars, that suspicion turned into conviction.

The person who manifested as the avatar of the Original Sin highly resembled Dordt, a younger elf who was involved in the creation of the magic tool. However, Dordt’s soul did not enter the Original Sin. Rather, it seems that his residual thoughts were dwelling within it. At any rate, there was definitively a connection between the two.

Vangeance asked Patry,

‘I just want to verify what I heard before, but, originally, the Original Sin was developed for peaceful purposes, made to increase its owner’s magical power by a small amount, right? I’m sure its original name was also different.’

‘Yeah. Although….’

Vangeance could feel a deep loathing and desire to kill within Patry’s words.

‘Five hundred years ago……we elves were trapped, toyed with, and killed by the humans. Those feelings of rage and anguish from that day must have mixed in with Dordt-san’s other residual thoughts, replacing the intentions that machine was originally built with into something far more vicious. It seems that it took quite a long time.’

He flared with rage before taking a brief moment to think.

‘However…... I don’t know how or why it had revived. It probably reacted to the mana emitted by the reincarnation of myself and the other elves…… At any rate, it certainly wasn’t my intent to revive it.’

‘I understand. That’s why you cooperated with me, right?’

Vangeance understood that the Original Sin was something created by the elves. Recognizing how dangerous it was, he decided to take immediate action, even receiving information about it from Patry. One of the measures he took against it was the creation of this festival. The Original Sin was constantly seeking the strong to use as a host. He judged that, if he created a chance for the Original Sin to come in contact with the Magic Knights, the strongest people in the country, then it would surely make a move. Though, if all he wanted to do was capture it, then it wouldn’t have been necessary to do things in such a roundabout way……

In any case, Vangeance sent words of gratitude into his heart.

‘Thank you for all your help, Patry. You also told me that if the first Original Sin is destroyed, then all its copies, the manuscripts, should disappear… I think we’ll continue the investigation to confirm that, though.’

‘Yeah. Well, that’s also just speculation on my part. I think everything should be fine now, but…...’

Pitch-black emotions began to flow into Patry’s words again.

‘The day when our longstanding desire is fulfilled draws near. Before that day comes, I want any irregularities to be eliminated…… I’m counting on you.’

‘……Yeah, I know.’

With his brief reply, Vangeance felt Patry’s consciousness melt into his heart. He touched his hand to his chest, gently curling his fingers into a fist.

‘The day when our longstanding desire is fulfilled draws near.’

Which means……

“Ah, Captain Vangeance. Thank you for your hard work today.”

Just as dark thoughts threatened to absorb him, he heard someone call out to him from the side. When he turned around, he saw Yuno, Asta, and Bell coming closer to him. He noticed that they were carrying paint brushes. It seemed that Yami’s drawing class was reopened, and they were helping out there. Before he could reply, Yuno began to speak.

“You may have already heard, but Silka was walking through the venue on her own. She is being safeguarded now. Al has also regained consciousness. Apparently, the last thing he remembers is picking up the Original Sin Grimoire in the woods a few weeks ago. Since that moment, his consciousness has been hijacked this entire time.”

“Yes, I’ve heard. They may need psychological care after all that has happened, so I’ve left detailed instructions so that they can be fully supported.”

Hearing this, Bell shouted in admiration.

“As one would expect from Vangeance! You sure work quickly~! By the way, Yuno and I want to go on a date after this, so exempt us from writing this incident’s report! Asta said he’ll write it for us!”

“I never said that! I definitely wouldn’t for a reason like that! And anyway, what the heck is a date!? Would somebody tell me already!?”

Asta hurled back at Bell without a moment’s delay. And so, the four continued their lively exchange for some time. Vangeance watched the other three with a smile as his thoughts from earlier resumed. The reason he lured in the Original Sin the way he did was to stimulate their growth…… especially Yuno’s. He knew the Original Sin was using Al as a host, but he let him go free so that Yuno could catch him. Even he thinks what he did was dangerous. Of course, he kept an eye on things to ensure that no harm would come to the townspeople, but he couldn’t guarantee that no injuries would occur.

However, Vangeance did not have a lot of time left. With the limited amount of time remaining for him, with all the things he still needed to teach Yuno, he had no choice but to make use of this chance. What could be gained by taking this risk was just too great. By resolving this incident, Yuno has become even stronger, and he has garnered even more support from the people.

And, Vangeance was able to entrust to Yuno the thing he couldn’t do. From time to time, a person will need to make a decision they can be satisfied with. It’s truly an obvious thing. It’s not something one usually needs to persuade someone else to do, but……

Even until the very end, Vangeance couldn’t do it.

Patry, the one who has lived together with him since birth, or Julius, the man who showed him how to live his life. He couldn’t decide which one he should choose. Even worse, he’s going to leave the answer to the two of them. He considered himself the worst kind of man there is. That was why he didn’t want Yuno, the squad member who held his highest of hopes, to ever go through this. He wanted Yuno to live his life in a future of his choice, without regret.

That was why, to convey the importance of those words, he told Yuno such an obvious thing. He was a little worried about whether he was able to transmit his feelings to Yuno properly, but……

“……Yuno, now that I think about it, I haven’t told you yet. You did a great job today. I saw how the battle went using Marx’s communication magic. You did a truly magnificent job.”

These words came from the bottom of his heart. He could tell when he watched Yuno battle today. Yuno understood what he wanted to say, and he put it into practice. He was able to make choice after choice without regret and led the way to victory in such a desperate battle.

“I look forward to your future successes…… yes, truly.”

Witnessing Yuno as he was today filled Vangenace with relief, while, at the same time, it made him have selfish expectations for him. Perhaps, no matter how hard things might be in the future, he will lead the world in a positive direction. Perhaps he will be able to bring about the future Vangeance wanted to make, but couldn’t. He wanted to entrust Yuno with such selfish wishes.

“Thank you very much. It’s all thanks to what you told me, Captain.”

Yuno said with a small smile on his face. He was about to elaborate further, but,

“Oh, Asta. Isn’t it almost time for the rehearsal?”

Noelle called out to Asta, interrupting their conversation.

‘Wait, they still plan to continue that play……?’ Yuno thought, with all kinds of implications left unexpressed. Beside him, Asta screamed,

“It’s already time!?”

And hurriedly put the parchment and brush he was holding back on the desk.

“That’s right! Yuno! You’re coming, too! You might be able to land some kind of role if you come right now!”

“No way. I’m heading back to headquarters. I have to write my report and prepare for the next mission.”

“……Oh, really?”

Asta replied with a bit of disappointment in his voice. Yuno wanted to hang around a little longer, too, but there was a mountain of things he had to do. He won’t procrastinate on his duties for personal reasons.

……Also,

“What, Asta? Are you disappointed?”

“H-huh!? Why would I be…… oh?”

With a provoking smile, Yuno continued,

“Don’t look so down…… we’re both running down the same road, so we’ll see each other soon.”

Both were competing to see who would become the Wizard King. As long as they stay true to their promise, Asta and Yuno will meet again and again. And, each time, they’ll be able to feel each other’s growth, which will inspire them to grow even stronger. Yuno and Asta have come this far by continuously repeating this process. From now on, as well, they will continue to lift each other up in this way.

“……Well, I’ve run way ahead of you, though.”

‘And, someday……’

With such powerful feelings, Yuno said forcefully,

“The one who becomes the Wizard King will be me!”

“………”

Provoked by Yuno’s words, Asta cracked a brave smile and bumped fists with him.

“Huh!? Like I said, I wasn’t all that disappointed, and it’s obvious that I’m the one who will become the Wizard King! No matter how far ahead of me you are, I’ll be going beyond my limits and follow behind you, so you better be prepared!

“If all you do is follow behind me, how are you supposed to get ahead of me? As I thought, you’re hopeless. Just aim to be the King of Disappointment instead.”

“The King of Disappointment!?”

When the two started their usual nonsensical banter, Noelle looked a little annoyed, but that was soon followed by a relieved smile as she poked Asta.

“……Hey, let’s go. We’re going to get scolded by Captain Mereoleona if you keep this up.”

“Right! See ya, Yuno!”

With cheerful words and a full smile, Asta ran ahead of Yuno. Yuno smiled a little, too, as he lowered his chin. He thought about saying goodbye to Asta, but……

“ASTAAAAAAA! You were loafing about in a place like this, huh!?”

A lioness stomped forward with each step leaving destruction in its wake. Imitating a lion’s paw, her flame magic took hold of Asta’s head.

“O-ouch! Wait, Ca-captain Mereleona! I think you’re using too much strength! This is the amount of strength you would use if you wanted to crush someone’s head!”

“I’m using just as much strength as I want! For people who don’t show up on time, this amount of strength is just right!”

Mereoleona yelled before gritting her teeth.

“Moreover, what was with that battle earlier!? It’s true that the Original Sin had taken the form of a young child…… but everyone, including you, was far too cowardly! We’re about to launch a surprise attack on the Eye of the Midnight Sun’s hideout, but I can already see it’s going to be rough with you lot!”

“That’s not true, Captain Mereoleona! Asta, well…… he-he did his best!”

Noelle sputtered, practically in a whisper. In response, Mereoleona glared at her and shouted,

“How so!? Especially in the final stages, when he pointlessly activated his anti-magic state, he was totally useless! I bet this is why he lost during the Selection Exam, am I wrong!?”

CRACK!

Something snapped inside of Asta. Most likely, Mereoleona’s words broke Asta’s heart once more. Before long, he was back to acting like a senile old man again, a look of blankness returning to his face.

“……Ah, that’s right…… I…… didn’t get to fight Yuno during the Selection Exam……”

Seeing him like this once again, Noelle began to protest at Mereoleona with tears in her eyes.

“Look! You broke his heart again! What do you plan to do with that!?”

“Wa ha ha! Perfect! After this event is over, I planned on temporarily reopening my hot spring camp, so I’ll take him along, too! Let’s re-forge the spirit of this pathetic greenhorn!”

With the end of that far from quiet conversation, the three of them walked off into the distance. His smile stiff from watching them, Vangeance cracked his mouth open and said with a heavy voice,

“……Is he going to be okay? It looks like he’s about to suffer quite a bit, so is it really alright if we don’t help him?”

“He’ll be okay. Even though he’s like that, he’s still my rival. He’ll be able to overcome any difficulties that stand in his way. “

Yuno spoke without a moment’s hesitation. He would never use the word “rival” unless he meant it, so there was no need to get involved in Asta’s messes.

“……I see, then I guess it’s fine.”

Seeing how Yuno felt, Vangeance had only that to say, though he could sympathize with the conflicting emotions Yuno must be experiencing. Then, he remembered to ask Yuno.

“Come to think of it, they interrupted our conversation earlier, didn’t they? Earlier…... before that young girl from the Black Bulls began speaking to your childhood friend, wasn’t there something you wanted to tell me?"

“Ah, that’s true….”

Yuno’s expression suddenly became serious as he looked Vangeance in the eye.

“I have an answer to your question from earlier…… when you asked whether I would sacrifice my life or the life of another to become the Wizard King.”

“Ah, that was just a hypothetical question, so you don’t really have to-

“I thought about it a lot, and, in the end, I’ve decided that I would sacrifice neither of them.”

Yuno answered, interrupting Vangeance’s words.

‘Come to think of it, he really hates losing,’ Vangeance thought as he questioned Yuno further.

“Okay. Then, what happens next? Would you give up on becoming the Wizard King?”

“No.”

Yuno’s reply was immediate, speaking clearly as he continued to look into Vangeance’s eyes.

“I would find a way to become Wizard King without sacrificing anyone.”

“……..”

The fact that Yuno’s answer completely ignores the point of the question left Vangeance speechless. He wasn’t surprised, per se. Rather, he simply wasn’t expecting to hear such an answer from someone so levelheaded. However……

“……I see. That’s your ‘decision that you can be satisfied with’, right?”

“Yes.”

“Understood. If that’s your answer, then I hope you’ll stand by it…… I’ll be rooting for you.”

As Vangeance responded, he quietly thought to himself,

‘For the sake of his dream, he’s prepared to conjure up a new choice if doesn’t like any of his options, and he has a reliable strength to make that possible. He has shown this time and time again with both his words and his actions. Maybe he truly will be able to build a world…… where everyone can live with a smile on their face.’

However, he knew that entrusting his wishes to Yuno would be too selfish of him. Vangeance was a man who couldn’t make a decision. Without making his choice, he’s going to leave countless debts unpaid and disappear from the world. That’s why he was not in a position to entrust anything to him.

However…… no, that’s precisely why,

‘Am I permitted to pray, at least?’

As he dreamed that the future Yuno would forge would overlap with his own ideal world, the disappearing hero raised a question with no answer.

--- The Hero Who Disappeared: The End ---

I’m happy to get a little more information on the whole ‘two souls in one body’ thing. I thought it was especially interesting when the novel described how William could “feel” Patry’s emotions as they fluctuated. Between the dreams of Patry’s memories he would experience as a child and being able to feel Patry’s undoubtedly heavy emotions, it’s amazing he could maintain his own sense of identity. It sounds like the sort of thing that could drive a person insane.

I didn’t realize it when I watched the anime, but it seems he was certain he was going to die. I guess that makes sense. Patry’s victory was supposed to guarantee his death, and unless Julius could find a way to capture Patry safely, he probably thought he would die with Patry if Julius won.

There Yuno goes again, waxing poetic about Asta for a full paragraph. And come back Mereoleona! I’m glad she finally appears in novel 3, but she’s only in this chapter and one other ;A; Hopefully, there’s more of her in novel 4 (whenever that gets announced). Then, Fuegoleon will actually be awake, too. I think we’re due for a chapter, or perhaps even a full novel, featuring the Vermillions!

#Black Clover #Yuno #Asta #william vangeance #mereoleona vermillion #patry #noelle silva #Book of Yuno #my translations

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sasukes-divorce-lawyers · 5 years

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About Sasuke Retsuden...

I understand liking a ship/character and all but... you can't possibly be a Sasuke stan if you love this. You may like this author's version of him, as the author themselves said it's their version and not canon, but for Kami's sake don't argue with people that say he's ooc because he is.

Kishi's Boruto!Sasuke - doesn't blink when his wife is transformed into another dimension by a dangerous enemy (and don't tell me 'he was confident in her abilities, Naruto and Sarada had spent way more time with her and they did get worried, also later he proved he has poor knowledge of her medical skills), clearly sees his wife wants to kiss him - turns away, has a freaking cell phone + messanger hawks - Sakura says he never contacts her, how hard is it to send a freaking message and ask how is she or how his actual child looks like. When he finally comes to the village - goes to Uzumaki family.

Esaka's Sasuke - gets possessive when another guy tries to touch Sakura, wants to give her a ring, says they have this great bond (when in fact they know shit about each other)

How are these two versions supposed to represent the same character/relationship?

I'm not saying Sasuke is some cold and emotionless character, because he isn't, but he just doesn't show much emotion when with Sakura because they don't have an actual bond but their child. He got shocked and hugely worried when Naruto was hit with a metal rod, although he knows damn well Naruto can heal himself in two seconds (like he did), but doesn't blink when the enemy he and Naruto had a hard time fighting transformed Sakura in another dimension.

SS fans love this idea of 'cold boy doesn't show much emotion but he clearly loves this girl and they don't see physical contact as something they need to do' while it's actually that Sakura is obsessed with him(and confirmed in Gaiden that she CHASED after him) and they have no physical contact because Sasuke doesn't WANT IT, not because they don't need it. I agree that physical contacnt isn't the most important thing in marriage/relationship but sorry not sorry if you have a cell phone and don't call your wife in 12+ years you clearly don't miss her.

Sasuke is not afraid of bonding or physical contact, he just doesn't want it with Sakura, hell even he did come to the village he goes to the Uzumaki house first and genuinely cares about Boruto's relationship with his parents, while he let Sarada believe Sakura isn't her real mom and doesn't make much effort, CANON MATERIAL ONLY, to actually bond with her. Sasuke is very clear about his feelings and emotions, as we've seen with Naruto and Itachi, and he isn't afraid to show them, because he doesn't care about what people think of him. Never has he given any mixed signals that would conclude something he doesn't actually feel, if he hates someone or loves someone, he's gonna show it, and not he's not gonna do that every 500 hundred chapters, you just need to pay his character attention.

Wow that was a long one, again, love the book all you want I don't care, but don't make Sasuke seem like something he isn't.

(Btw thanks SS fandom for ridiculous hate comments when I reviewed the book with this same text)

#sasuke #sasuke uchiha #pro sasuke #pro sasuke uchiha #naruto #sasuke retsuden #anti sasuke retsuden #anti sasusaku #anti sss family #anti sasusaku fandom #uchiha sasuke #naruto uzumaki #pro canon #masashi kishimoto

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shikadainara · 4 years

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an in-depth breakdown of b*ruto episode 178

sorry i’m late i was lost on the path of life

tl;dr yeah ok i can have my hopes and dreams about what specifically i would want but. BUT. honestly yeah the episode was more or less what i expected would actually be in it from the preview, so i can’t complain. i still sobbed!!! that’s all i really wanted!!

time to rewatch it! (warning: long post. LOL)

obviously this is nothing new but i still can’t get over how nice the exterior to the nara household is, good for them. i don’t think i noticed the solar panel before? good for them!

i’m entertained at how the episode does open with shikadai tying his hair as he walks, i just think it’s neat. i love how the camera frames it like seeing a nara with their hair down is something forbidden we’re not mean to see

temari has purple slippers i dedicate her commitment to her favorite color. (also i am Just Saying... purple........ the bisexual flag--)

yeahhhh ok so. i get the need for wanting to frame the narrative like this, but this really doesn’t make any sense. shikadai is 12, and is also a chuunin, like... he should know by now that his dad is always kinda a mess on this day of the year, and why that is. and even if he honestly really did just forget, the fact that he’s still asking his dad why he’s not at work while looking at the way his parents are dressed... did this not clue you in or what????

the fact that shikamaru’s up and ready (i really don’t think he gets much sleep on this day, every year...), and it’s shikadai who’s just getting up. i do think it’s cute that we do get to see a tiiiiiny bit of temari’s parenting that doesn’t involve being an out of character irrationally angry woman when she tells shikadai to not come crying to her when he’s late in getting ready, yeah that definitely sounds way more like her lol

temari says she told him about all of this the other day (shikadai blatantly forgot, he tries to pretend he didn’t but she doesn’t press him for it)... that does make me emotional thinking like. she is pretty painfully aware of how hard this is on shikamaru, and days in advance told shikadai about it, to try to make sure he understands what his father is going through........ she really does care about him so, so much.

i said this based off the preview, but... i would like to interpret that temari is purposefully doing the dishes(/rest of house chores) to give him space to grieve.......

the fact that while explaining what today is, shikamaru has to get up, leave the room, and talk while not facing his family, as if he wouldn’t be able to say the words as easily while looking at them........ god. that. that hurts.

tsunade being the one to give this speech kinda feels random? like yeah she was the one that was kage during the war but...? i do feel like it would have been more fitting to have naruto say the speech since the whole entire point of the war was to protect him (and bee) but ????? ok

no one in the uzumaki family talks during this episode which is fine by me LOL. i would assume the memorial is on the day the war ended (which would also make it naruto’s birthday/memorial of the kyuubi invasion) but if it is, it’s never stated. maybe it’s the day the war started, idk

the collection of people up front feels pretty random??? kakashi as the previous hokage, sure, guy i guess because of how important his contribution the war against madara was and also because he is kakashi’s husband, shizune kinda has to be there if tusnade is, but... iruka? like yeah he is vital to the narrative, but to konoha? he is the headmaster of the academy i think now so i guess...? but then? ibiki??? anko??? i say this as someone that REALLY loves anko, she was my favorite character as a kid and i still love her but,,, huh? SHE WAS KNOCKED OUT DURNG THE WHOLE WAR!!??!?

then you see everyone that was in naruto’s class + team guy + sai except hinata is in the crowd. which of course to the narrative, to us the readers, those are the main characters (if you ignore how more or less everyone was super shafted throughout all of part 2) but!!! team guy’s only real connection to the rest of them is that they took the chuunin exams together, and neji and hinata were are cousins. that’s about it. was it that specifically all of these characters made such a contribution to the war compared to every other single shinobi from konoha that lived ??????

shikamaru staring up to the sky did made my heart clench... no matter how different he is now than he was when he was a 12 year old genin...... i do feel like he’s never entirely ditched his true self of just wanting to stare at the clouds all day.... i’m not entirely sure what the intent was here, but i’m sure there’s supposed to be some symbolism here. the sky is actually nearly entirely clear (the way is framed, there’s only a tiny cloud in the corner,) and then he closes his eyes and hums. maybe it’s supposed to be about the closure he gets in this episode...

ok and then here’s ao cool whatever. since i only skim through b*ruto for the characters that i care about i do not really careeeee since i won’t watch again until something interesting happens to said characters that i care about LOL

?? who voiced the receptionist they sound familiar but i can’t place it at all

katasuke is the bitch that made the scientific ninja tool for b*ruto so he could cheat in the exam right

what is ao doing here. is he supposed to be doing something evil. it sure looks that way

... who is the glasses orange scarf guy??? he kinda looks like a mix between udon and ebisu and aoba but i know he’s not any one of them lol

TEMARI AND KARUI STANDING NEXT TO EACH OTHER... i don’t think in any media they’ve ever??? ACTUALLY TALKED TO EACH OTHER???? BUT THEY SHOULD BE CLOSE FOR THE OBVIOUS REASON....... I’LL TAKE THESE CRUMBS THOUGH THANK YOU

OKKKKK admittedly like. in terms of Pleasing Me, Personally, it’s a damned if you do, dammed if you don’t situation like.... they do kinda HAVE to acknowledge that neji died during the war so. i appreciate that hinata like........ cares. i guess. i’ll try to not post the whole rant about why neji’s death was (logistically how he died aside) narratively and thematically absolute bullshit, kishi (i believe) saying that neji died so he could play cupid for naruto and hinata like!!! fuck off with that shit!!! maybe if it wasn’t for the goddamn “naruto-kun’s big warm manly hand” line i would feel a little bit actual sad but no.

WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOSHINO AND CHOUZA HELLO!?!?!?!? COULD YOU REALLY NOT HAVE PUT THEM IN THE CROWD??

ino also has an unnamed mother that the anime made up that i believe was only in like a single episode (and was cameoed in RtN i think?) but she should still be like. Alive. so her too.

MITSUKI PLACING FLOWERS IS SO FUNNY TO ME LIKE YOU DO KNOW YOUR PARENT’S SUBORDINATE/DOUBLE CROSS TRAITOR WHATEVER DID CAUSE THE WAR RIGHT BFIOBU*EHW$

aaand. here’s shikamaru and ino’s conversation. i’m not sure if i can put this into words, but... just... the way that they talk to each other, the weight of 15+ years of sadness about this, the way that they just!! fully know what the other is going through, the way that they’ve known each other for their whole lives and survived through everything together, the way i feel like they’ve avoided talking about this topic as much as possible over the years, hell even during this conversation the way they’re almost bickering to avoid having to directly confront their feelings, but it is unavoidable.......

i also do wonder what their relationship with each other’s parents were while growing up: shikamaru does refer to inoichi as “inoichi-san” here, contrast to how their kids all call each other’s parents just “uncle” or “aunt”

siri play sad naruto flute.

ok since i did go back to rewatch the episode from shippuden right before watching this one for the first time i do wish a liiiittle less of the episode was about this flashback with the same reused footage like i get that they do have to put it in here but Still.

THE FACT THAT SHIKAMARU IS SMILING WHILE RECALLING WHAT HAPPENED, AND THAT THERE’S A LAUGH IN HIS VOICE........ I WANT TO CRY AGAIN

ino saying that it was so unfair how cool they looked in the end, and then giggles...... ino............. this must be so, so painful for her to recall, and yet.........

IT IS SO FUNNY HOW THEY SKIP OVER THE IMAGE OF SASUKE THERE AHAHAHAHA god i hated that so so much i can’t believe that’s manga canon. the line is perfectly fine and makes me cry just DO NOT RELATE IT TO SASUKE!!!! literally the only time they “”interact”” is when ino is introduced and ino just, for lack of a better word, glomps him???? THAT’S IT??? i feel like they might’ve changed it just because, well, you know the endgame pairings. but still. bye sasuke

damn you know what i do kinda wish they didn’t skip over the “get rid of that box before your mother finds it” part i AM curious as to what it was i mean it’s implied it’s something adult related so SP probably couldn’t show that on TV BUT!!!

ok ok all week i tried to not imagine what shikamaru and ino’s conversation would be since i wanted to go all “surprise me!!” BUT??? BUT. SHIKAMARU ASKING INO IF SHE THINKS THAT THEIR FATHERS HONESTLY, TRULY BELIEVED IN THEM?? HE’S BEEN THINKING ABOUT THAT ON EVERY SINGLE DAY THIS YEAR THESE PAST 15+ YEARS, AND SURELY IT’S ALWAYS BEEN AT THE BACK OF HIS MIND ALL THIS TIME!?!?! of course. OF COURSE HE WOULD FEEL THIS WAY!!! HE’D HAVE NO WAY OF KNOWING FOR SURE OR EVER FINDING OUT!!! like of course we as the readers know that shikaku and inoichi absolutely 200% felt that way but... from his perspective... you know what i don’t even think this idea ever crossed my mind HOLD ON THAT IS THE SOUND OF MY HEART SHATTERING--

and then he just... smiles. says that he won’t let that get him down, since it’s not like they’ll ever find out anyways. sure, it’s been 15+ years, he has had to have largely come to terms with everything by now, but...... still....

then he talks about the idea that the day will come and leave everything in the hands of their sons (now looking over at team 10′s turn to place flowers) just like their dads did... it is worded like a question, but showtaro morikubo’s absolute masterful performance does. it does portray a tone like he is absolutely 100% sure that it’ll happen, one day...

i’ve said this before but. i KNOW shikamaru has definitely spent so much time thinking about this. sure it hasn’t ever really been brought up on-screen (yet), but....... i want to see him talking about a direct contrast on what his grand plan through life he thought of by age 12, ending with him passing away by old age. obviously he did a complete 180 on they type of person he wanted as a wife LOL. it is kinda brought up at the start of shikamaru hiden while he visits the grave, says he hasn’t found anyone he’d give his life to protect... (well. now he has a son where if you see the recent chapters he is very, VERY protective of.) but i would like to see this change in his character be directly be brought up and examined

........ that being SAID. i sure hope neither of them actually like. die. i’m GOOD, thank you. they sure as hell can’t until they’re ready to pass things down to their sons, at least. until then, absolutely zero narrative reason to do so, but...... still. we don’t need to make everything an EXACT copy of what happened in naruto you can let them live kthx

they both say “what kind of half-baked response is that!” and then laugh just. I LOVE THEM SO SO MUCH TEAM 10 IS FOREVER

there is some symbolism in how ao walks over from a really dark shadowy area into the light when he decides that he has to pay his respects...

i do like how he does reflect on how he really should have come here earlier, but better late than never i suppose

i was expecting a... more elaborate explanation for how he lived??? especially since he was standing RIGHT NEXT to shikaku and inoichi... he just. happened to survive for whatever reason while every single other person died on impact

that survivor’s guilt does hurt to see

i do like seeing how he chooses to do something with his life, aside from being a shinobi, and live it to the fullest for the sake of everyone that died in the explosion. that’s nice

ino saying “i’m sure are fathers are happy!” AAAAAAAAAAA

IN HINDSIGHT....... I ABSOLUTELY SOULD’VE PREDICTED SOMEONE WOULD DROP A “YOU LOOK SO MUCH LIKE YOUR FATHER” AT SOME POINT IN THE EPISODE...... and. i did kinda chuckle, because like, no shit duh lmao. i’m sure shikamaru heard that all the time as a kid!!! and hell, i’m sure he still gets it from time to time over the years up to this day. BUT LIKE... SHIKAMARU’S FACE. HE LOOKS LIKE THAT, RIGHT NOW, IT’S ACTUALLY SOMETHING HE REALLY, REALLY NEEDED TO HEAR. LET ME CRY

hearing shikamaru say oyaji, and then the way his tone suddenly shifts to something very... quiet and somber? when he says “nara shikaku”..... something about that. man.... also it’s hard to see but there is a sweat drop on his face as he says all of this...

“sometimes, i end up wondering...” don’t lie to yourself. you think about this so, so much........

the flashback where ao says “listen to me calmly” when he says the bomb is coming this way sure reminds me of ino telling shikamaru to stay calm as she tells him that his son has a bomb around his neck

THE ADDED PART OF THE FLASHBACK WITH THEIR VERY LAST MOMENTS...... THE WAY THEY’RE SMILING AND JUST??? BELIEVE IN THEIR KIDS IN THE VERY END. just like how it’s described in shikamaru hiden where the narrative says that shikaku was a shinobi until his very last breaths-- actually, no. in the very end he was a father.......

“THEY BELIEVED IN YOU, WITHOUT A HINT OF DOUBT.”

AAA?A?AAAAAAAAA?A?A?A??A!??!!??!!

INO STARTS TEARING UP BUT I CALL ABSOLUTE BS THAT SHIKAMARU WOULDN’T ALSO JUST BURST ONTO TEARS ON THE SPOT, HE MAY BE 32 WHATEVER YEARS OLD NOW BUT... HE IS STILL SUCH A CRYBABY AT HEART, HIS ENTIRE CIRCLE OF LOVED ONES KNOW THIS.

you know who DID start crying though??? ME

i do wonder, is this the same hillside that shikamaru went to after asuma’s death...? (only in the manga tho, the anime had him on a rooftop instead)

is that??? someone watching them in the back left?? when shikadai finds him? i cannot tell what that is

i am. trying to follow temari’s logic of telling shikadai to go find shikamaru and... not also going with him?? i mean i figured from the preview that, yeah it does look like it’s only the two of them, but... i can’t come up with a reason. not a super big deal but. obviously my heart yearns for that shikatema content that’s ok i can write my own fanfic i guess!!!!

also like...... i imagine it can’t be THAT hard to find him, i’m sure that he only has a small handful of Spots Good For Coping(™) when he just needs to be by himself, that i would Think his wife would know where they are. and said wife would tell shikadai. but idk

after all of this, shikamaru wants to just treat his son to go eat out whatever he wants...!! what a good father

....... now like. the logic of “temari is currently making dinner and that’s why she’s a) not there and b) told shikadai to go fetch is father” would make perfect sense. but... if they’re going out to get food then... no?? shikadai would interject to say so if that was the case..... that makes this all make no sense seriously what the hell is she doing

i do wish that like. shikadai like.... uh. actually learned about more shikaku?? this scene is more brief than i thought it would be idk i felt like it would be part of the middle of the episode and not at the end, oh well. he’ll find out in due time

THAT BEING SAID... STILL. THE ENDING WHERE HE JUST CARES SO SO SO SO MUCH ABOUT SHIKADAI!!!! WONDERING IF HE’S WATCHING HIS BACK!!! I LOVE THEM I LOVE THEMMMMM

not quite sure whatever ao is doing at the end of the episode???? IS IT EVIL??? i mean like that it’s him catching a leaf seems like he’s going against konoha but i mean konoha fucking sucks so. that is not evil i guess LOL

whatever not like i’ll care to actually find out!!!!! anyways let me know when the nara family (or anyone adjacent to them) does anything so i can care LOL

in conclusion. good shit.

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hoe-imaginess · 4 years

Text

replies!

tried to put older ones at the top.

ALSO: I got a lot of requests in the last few weeks and just wanted to post a general reply in reminder that my ASK BOX IS CLOSED! Not accepting any requests right now, sorry! I delete any that come in

i BEEN A YEEHAW BINCH SINCE DAY ONE GORLLL. we stan 4am whataburger in this house

I do!! I used to have gold but it got kinda expensive in comparison to what I was charging for ko-fi’s. If you don’t have that extra $6 a month it’s not worth it boo ):

Ahhh congrats! Sorry I’m so late!! I think it’s always worth it to stick with the original blog since you’ve accumulated followers there, and you never know if they’re going to miss out on the transition to your new one. It takes some time to restructure a blog but it’s definitely worth it to keep the original

the amount of HIM’s in One Piece is unbelievable I whore for everyone

I’m doing ok!!!! I go a little crazy indoors but I’m keeping myself busy <3 my immune system is shit so I’m on utter lock down, but better safe than sorry

@thychi

I keep up sporadically with the manga!! I stopped watching it when I caught up a few months ago, think I ended on Whole Cake? I know what’s happening currently but I haven’t read too into depth in the Wano arc. I usually just... pop into the spoilers tags... to see Law... bc I love him...

@ithecrystaldragonheart

Mito and Hashi are a powerful duo. Mito has a lot of brains cells she has to share with Hashi but that’s ok!!!! I do think Tobirama and Mito would get along too!

Basically tbh he sees one thing out of place and he must destroy

i’D HEARD IT WAS A REALLY BAD CHAPTER. this is a late response but MANGA READERS THAT ONE WEEK... we were all a mess (and no I haven’t watched but I’ve been recommended to do so quite a lot so I’ll hop on it soon!)

Hmm!!!! I actually find a *shorter* first chapter is a good way to hook the reader without making them claw through too much writing to get a sense of what’s going on. Like, if I see a first chapter is reallllly long I sometimes have to do it to em, and scroll a bit to the middle to see what’s going on, and to double check that it’s a fic I want to take the time to read

1300 words isn’t too much though!!! Omg I’ve written much longer first chapters lmao. If you feel weird about it you can maybe find a good place to split that 1300 into two chapters?? But definitely make sure it’s split in a good place. It’s always good to leave the reader wanting more. If you can end on a short cliff hanger or a tense moment, that’s 10/10

That being said it would probably be wise to make the rest of the chapters of a similair average length. I’ve read fics that have shorter or longer chapters and it’s not bad (unless I’m grieving because it’s too short AND I REQUIRE MOREEE) but it might help you with actually planning your plot

I DON’T!!! But I want his ninja dick so bad. Maybe i’ll whip something up for him soon. For the culture

When you sent this a while ago it actually inspired me to pick it up again!! I’m fixing it so it comes up with more accurate (?) results since I think the first one was so messed up. Everyone kept getting Madara sksksks. It’s still in the works but I wanna post it again! They’re super fun to make

AHHHH THANKSSSSS!!!

It’s so hard trying to keep a character that you love IC because... i want him to not be as much of an asshole as he is in canon... so unfortunately I gotta let him be an asshole sometimes. On the other hand, fortunately he’s such a minor guy I get some room to explore w him and I really hope it pays off, so thank you!!!

Girl, eye—someties

did Itachi Uchiha send me this

(i love u too)

RIGHT!!! i would have never guessed. Like, if Kishi could see us... he’d be fucking floored....

Queen!!! I do!!! I don’t have much up rn but I got 234232 Word docs with WIP fics that I hope to post at some point, ty ilysm

https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoSkelly

@any59 ty ty!

Ahhhh!!! thank you!!! It was my biggest project to date <3

(HxH spoilers below vvvvv)

I don’t really think Feitan is... so far removed from his emotions (Like Meruem) that he would really need to change that drastically for someone if he really liked them—that being said, he’s not going to change, either. If by change we mean he’s suddenly as enamored and endearing with them as Meruem is with Komugi... then I don’t think that’s going to happen regardless. We kinda see Feitan being a good and decently considerate comrade to the Troupe, so that would obviously extend to this girl/boy, maybe with a sliver of extra fondness if we’re talking romantically. But otherwise, Feitan seems like a “you get what you get” type of guy, that would inherently be *tender* with someone he liked, but not so tender that he’d have to have a whole philosophical/personality change

Ok now I’m confusing myself aksjdhfkjs. Basically:

Meruem had to like, undergo some existential shit to get where he was Komugi. I think Feitan already has the capacity to care for someone, even if his way of caring isn’t exactly rainbows and butterflies. So it’s not like he has to change. He just has to find the right person that doesn’t 1) get on his nerves and 2) get on his nerves enough that he’s gonna kill them

Feitan is a simple man. You piss him off. You die. You don’t? Ok. He’ll be nice

I did!!!

Thank you for accepting me I’m glad to be here

akjdhfakjshfsj i know this was a serious comment but when i first read it I wanted to laugh asdhfkasjhf the “ap lit” inclusion sent me. What was so horrible about ap lit that this girl thought she was dying? Ap lit will really get you

(But I know!! I’d forgotten I’d taken it that morning! I have one of those cute pill organizers and I thought I’d taken it out but did not...)

Forgive me!!! I felt dumba fterwards hence why I deleted the post. Do not worry! This is the dose I was prescribed. I figured I would get some really manic reactions when trying a new dosage so now I know that’s not gonna work lol

ajkshdfkjshfjksa izuna wants tobirama’s death to be as quick and natural as possible

thank you!!!! I didn’t think you guys would like them so much <3

@blackstrawberrynightmare

It’s been so long since I watched Psycho Pass or even looked into anything about it so pls take my thoughts with a grain of salt but:

I’m gonna say probably not? He’s one of those typical antags that have such strong ideals that... I don’t think even if the corrupt system was taken down he’d be entirely absolved of his ideals, or at the least, of the journey he’s taken in pursuit of those ideals. I don’t think a guy like him could ultimately settle down once the dust clears, and especially not with a lover or a family or anything like that. If he did want to lead a normal life it would probably be in seclusion

Thank you!!!!!!

skjhasjkdfhajkhsd they would never. Only room for one tongue on that body and they’ll fight for their tongue rights

Ahhh yeah my master post is so bad I swear I’m gonna fix it one day—I don’t think I have one of Madara!

I do not ):

@cacauatecacauate thanks for the kind words!! I’m not accepting requests right now though! I am planning on posting more to that story though, just not right now!

(I think this was in response to when I missed your ko-fi about the bakers) thank you! and thanks for supporting!

#replies #hxh spoilers #kinda?

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captnjacksparrow · 3 years

Note

I just got into the fandom and I love it so much. However, there are parts where I just cringe. I’m going to be completely honest when I say I can’t see SS being a thing, a healthy one at that. A rumor said that Sasuke always had feelings for Sakura but he didn’t know how to show them because hatred blinded him. I just... find it utterly bullshit. Hell, even I do ship narusasu, I tried to be open minded and not fall too far off canon or the characters. I don’t understand how Sasuke had those feelings for her when all he did was shown the opposite and it felt genuine. He seem always annoyed and pushes her away. She kept forcing her feelings on him when he makes it clear that he’s not interested. I don’t hate the ship because it’s not my ship but because it’s extremely toxic. It feels one-sided (Sakura’s side) more than anything and it’s makes it hard to believe he had those feelings for her. I mean, on the second episode of season five, she confessed and poured out her heart and he blew it off. I cringed hard and was beyond disappointed because she’s making it about herself. That’s literally how I feel about their damn “relationship”. She made it about her and her only. When he’s hurting, it’s about her. It’s so annoying and it makes me see how self-centered Sakura. When she said she understood Sasuke, I wanted to scream (I nearly did but my family is sleeping and I don’t need a lecture.) She doesn’t know Jackshit about Sasuke besides he’s the only survivor of his decease clan, he’s a loner who cares only about himself, and he’s attractive. She’s just like every other fangirl expect she’s on his team. I’m trying my best not to hate her but Damn she’s really pushing it. Anything that annoyed me was that she made it seem like they were dating, again making it about herself and her feelings. She sent Naruto to get Sasuke for her benefits, so she can keep him. Again, disregarding Sasuke’s feelings and what he wanted. Naruto should’ve said “I’ll bring him back because HE wants too, to keep HIM safe, not for you.” I just can’t with this ship. I’m still wondering why the hell is it even a thing? Also find it beyond pitiful how she stayed with Sasuke in Boruto when he left for 12-13 years?! No note. No checking up. Nothing. Hell, Sarada doesn’t know how her own father looks like or the truth of her mother. Both of them were miserable and I find it absolutely ridiculous when SS shippers still say “they’re in love” or they’re OTP. If that’s what true love looks like (good thing it’s not), then I’d die single. I can’t be the only one who thinks this ship is just as bad as Harley Quinn x Joker.

First off, Thanks for this lovely ask @larrycherry04 ❤️❤️❤️❤️ I've always wanted to write about this and your ask is the perfect timing.

Disclaimer: SS shippers, Sakura fans!!! Don’t read this post!!

Me being an SNS shipper, I am just going to write this from a non-SNS perspective. Meaning, I am going to consider Naruto and Sasuke are just friends or rivals.

Bear with my lengthy answer.

Where do I even begin?

A rumor said that Sasuke always had feelings for Sakura but he didn’t know how to show them because hatred blinded him.

I think this rumor is from a light novel called Akatsuki Hiden or whatever shit. But for me, it looks like a pathetic attempt to convince those horny women shippers who would pay any money to read a romance which mirrors their own love life where they desire an ‘unreachable & handsome’ man who has this ‘cool & overbearing’ aura and carries this ‘bad boy badass’ vibe. They would do anything to get the attention from this boy. Until this point is where the reality ends.

What they really wants to happen and fantasize is somehow that handsome man, one day, will look only them and recognize their love and becomes a ‘soft’ guy who would bring the heavens for them and treats her like a princess. That fantasy led them to buy these novels and believe everything while completely disregarding the canon material. And those novels are aimed at these type of women.

You must have been wondering now, ‘I have seen these type of shit somewhere’!!!!!

That’s right.

50 Shades of Grey, Twilight, Beauty and the Beast, 100′s of K-Drama, C-Drama follow this shit romance trope and it’s regrettably fucking popular.

In other words, Don’t believe anything apart from the canonic resources.

Let’s dissect the canon materials about SS.

TEAM 7

This is how it all started

Does anyone see anything positive here????

Well, I am not.

Sakura wanted to impress Sasuke. Since, Naruto always picks fight with Sasuke, she badmouthed Naruto in the hopes that Sasuke will recognize some common ground with her which may develop into a friendship. But she shot her own foot.

[Regardless, I hated her here and she never redeemed herself, for her being completely insensitive & oblivious towards Sasuke’s life, the boy she loves]

Technically, Sasuke should have said ‘You’re Annoying’ towards Naruto for kissing him before the class and tying him up later. Here, Sakura is simply badmouthing another guy. He, somehow, find this very annoying than anything Naruto did earlier.

Sasuke always had feelings for Sakura but he didn’t know how to show them because hatred blinded him.

Am definitely not seeing any feelings here.

ZABUZA ARC

Alright, much later, somehow Sasuke started to integrate into team 7 and started to see them as a Family. No denial here. He started to care about everyone in his team at some point. Which was evident from the way he thought to himself, ‘That was Sakura’s voice... What is Kakashi doing?’

But does it means he hopelessly fell in love with her??? Nope.

It’s just a team camaraderie where he was worried about his teammate. If he has special feelings towards her, he should have said ‘I must go save Sakura’ or something along the line.

But, later in that episode, he went on to die for Naruto and even at his dying moments he didn’t think about Sakura or Team 7. It was all about someone else.

Even seconds before falling into Naruto’s arms, Sasuke was smiling with no regrets.

It was funny very later that after he got up from his temporary death, rather than consoling her like ‘Sakura, Don’t cry. Am alright’ or anything, he was asking ‘Where’s Naruto?’. LOL.

Even much later, when Sakura was asking him about a date, he bluntly said ‘I refuse’.

So, you’re telling me, throughout this arc, a boy blinded with hatred can able to pout, play childish games, train and die for a boy but when it comes to Sakura he can’t show his feelings???

Sorry, I don’t see romance here. Not in this arc.

Whether you agree or not, every parent has their favorite child, every child has their favorite parent. Even within your family, you always have a special person.

For Sasuke, Itachi was that person in his real family. Sakura was not that person in his Team 7 family. It was Naruto.

CHUNIN EXAMS ARC

This arc is where those SS shippers celebrates a lot and I know why. Remember earlier I talked about that shitty 50 Shades of Grey romantic trope??? The following scene vaguely falls under that pattern.

A guy loses his control because of a cursed seal and beats up the guys who hurt one of his teammates which happens to be a girl and calms down after seeing the girl.

That Infamous back hug.

I understand why SS people lose their mind with that scene. And I don’t blame them. I am going to throw their own proof at them.

So, this First databook, tells us that he finally sees both Naruto and Sakura as comrades and his heart softens from the path of revenge, a little bit.

Definitely, Sakura’s tears or love towards him stopped his rampage. But nothing says about whether Sasuke loves her back.

Much later, Sasuke also stops his cursed seal on his own after thinking about worried Sakura and a screaming Naruto (Who don’t know about this seal thingy at that time).

Well, whatever. That databook has another funny fact, that too in the same page.

LOL. Weird!!!! This accidental kiss unravels Sasuke’s heart ❤️❤️???? 🤣🤣🤣

So, influencing Sasuke’s heart can be attributed to both his teammates,according to this databook. Atleast upto this arc. There are no special feelings for Sakura alone, guys.

Proof?

If Sasuke really considers her in a romantic light (this is after that back hug), he doesn’t have to do this at all. Believe me, Love is all about subconsciously or purposefully enjoying or feeling little touches. Those touches can be through eyes, memories or physical. Sakura is delighted with his touch because she loves him but Sasuke just see her as a comrade and keeping his distance but this time very politely.

If Kishi really likes these couple, he doesn’t have to make this scene at all. It’s not just this one instance, he rejected her twice very bluntly before this saying ‘Don’t cling to me!!!’, ‘Sakura, you’re heavy!!!’.

If you say her back hug is a token of romance, then I can say ‘this’ kiss is also a token of romance. You can’t ignore one while keeping the other.

Anyways, at the end of the arc, Orochimaru is the best judge to identify who can change Sasuke’s heart. And that person is not Sakura.

DEPARTURE

she confessed and poured out her heart and he blew it off. I cringed hard and was beyond disappointed because she’s making it about herself. That’s literally how I feel about their damn “relationship”. She made it about her and her only. When he’s hurting, it’s about her. It’s so annoying and it makes me see how self-centered Sakura. When she said she understood Sasuke, I wanted to scream (I nearly did but my family is sleeping and I don’t need a lecture.) She doesn’t know Jackshit about Sasuke besides he’s the only survivor of his decease clan, he’s a loner who cares only about himself, and he’s attractive.

You know what, Larry??? You are 1000% right.

But, atleast, I thought she was genuine in the first part of the proposal, like saying ‘Revenge is not good’.....bla bla.. Because, Revenge will never satisfy a person completely and I agree. Then she took a 180 degree by saying ‘Take me with you, Sasuke-Kun. I’ll make you happy’. This is where I lost it entirely. ‘Alright Bitch, So you really don’t care about his revenge or health. As long as you have the chance to get inside his pants, you are okay with it. So you are okay with Sasuke going to Orochimaru as long as you are with him..... Fucking Shit!!!!’ This is not okay at all.

How did Sasuke respond?

“Why should I have to tell you anything”

“I’m telling you to keep your nose out of my business”

“Stop bothering me over everything I do”

Ummm..... where I come from, this screams ‘Irritation’ to me. Added to it, throughout the whole conversation he never saw her face. There was evidently no pain or anything from his face. On top the cake, here comes the cherry

“You really are...annoying”

This is where he saw her face throughout that painful confession before knocking her out. Umm... When you love someone or atleast feel for someone, you will look in their eyes and speak some farewell words before you leave. Or atleast show some pain??? There’s visibly nothing from Sasuke’s face.

Alright, I know what SS wankers will pull out here. That Databook 2 with some vague words. I am going to throw this at them.

Again, like I acknowledged before, he considers her as a comrade and part of a family. So, her existence also eased his loneliness. But you have to look at the word choice here. “The one that filled his lonely existence was Sakura”. It’s not the ‘Only’ person. Before he left he said ‘Thanks’. Meaning, Thanks for all these days. That’s all between us.

This piece was about the Team 7 picture. So he acknowledges, he was not alone during his genin days because of his companions and Kakashi (so it’s not just Sakura to ease his loneliness). Whatever he said to Sakura was real.

So can we safely confirm “You’re annoying” is real????

But what’s really interesting is the way Sasuke projects himself before Naruto. I am going to refrain myself from attaching all those rollercoaster of emotions flowed throughout the fight in VoTE 1. Otherwise, it will become an SNS post.

However, this particular scene caught my attention.

Ummm.... Initially Sasuke walks without looking at Naruto. Then he looks back and answers him.

Naruto was pretty much asking the same question as Sakura. “Why does it come to this?”

But Sasuke pauses and surprised for a moment and asks him pretty much “Why do you care about me?”

Why couldn’t Sasuke do the same with Sakura???? Kishi can pretty much make a panel or two rather than making some insulting panels.

Anyways, If they throw the databook, then I can also throw the same.

Alright, can someone explain the highlighted sentence for me???? Because I want to confirm whether I have a blurry vision.

Here, Sasuke is trying to punctuate Naruto as a different person from the rest of his companions. ‘his companions as well as that with Naruto’, I mean, Come on!!!! Naruto is also one of your companions along with Sakura. Why differentiate????

‘The village, companions, Naruto,....’ . Again....He is differentiating his home (village), companions (his friends), and Naruto. So who is Naruto for him? What is the need to make exception for Naruto? It’s very clear he is placing Naruto at a high pedestal for some unknown reasons.

Before this Databook dissection, remember I said something about saying Goodbye, ‘ When you love someone or at least feel for someone, you will look into that person’s eyes and speak some farewell words before you leave‘

Sasuke is doing exactly that here in this scene without saying anything.

Am sorry SS shippers, you can scream all you want about Sasuke knocked her out and left her on the bench. But there was no emotional distraught when he left her. Sasuke seemingly spent a longer time staring at Naruto than looking at Sakura when she confessed.

OROCHIMARU HIDEOUT

Well, there is nothing I can say about here for SS. He pretty much saw her and said, “Sakura, huh?”.. And that’s all. He didn’t give two shits about her.

His attention was completely on someone else.

UNDER THE BRIDGE

She sent Naruto to get Sasuke for her benefits, so she can keep him. Again, disregarding Sasuke’s feelings and what he wanted. Naruto should’ve said “I’ll bring him back because HE wants too, to keep HIM safe, not for you.”

Naruto pretty much said the same thing in this arc, Larry. Naruto, in part 1, was happy for Sakura feeling the same about Sasuke as him, that is ‘To bring him back’. And also sad that his crush really loves someone else. But after Sakura gave up on Sasuke and faking her confession, Naruto decided, ‘Alright, I want to save him personally. I don’t care about our promise anymore”.

This is where, SS ship goes into a crazy ride and it’s not a positive one.

Sasuke was on a rampage. He lost the ability to differentiate between his friends and foes. He stabbed Karin. And when he find her alive, he was about to Chidori her.

And then comes the pink princess, full of lies and deceit. And Sasuke being impatient and disgusted with her lies, he does this

Well, in part 1, she had a degree of power to change his heart. But not here. He, instead, got riled up more and even tried to kill her without a warning and that too by not looking at her face. Pathetic!!!!

This scene screams ‘Trust issues’ from both sides.

Did it stop here???

Fucking Shit!!!!!! Is there any people who still ship this nonsense?. If you are a Sakura fan, you should hate her for the lack of trust and backstabbing the person she loves,

If you are a Sasuke fan, errrrmmm.....I have nothing to say. You know what to do.

There is nothing positive here, that can make me ship them. He is killing her like a Mosquito.

If you truly loved someone in the past, even in your darkest moments, you will be honest and you cannot fake before that person.

Proof??

Here, Sasuke had a clear resolve to kill his brother, Itachi. He lived for this moment for about 8 years and immersed himself in Darkness for 3 years with Orochimaru. He could have run away, dodge or look away from Itachi. But Sasuke simply couldn’t!!! You know why?? Sasuke loved Itachi once more than anything in this world. At this moment, he is letting all those defense loose and embracing the moment and see what Itachi was about to do. Because somewhere in his heart he trusts Itachi.

But killing Sakura doesn’t make Sasuke feel anything. She is just another victim like Danzo or Karin or all those Samurais or a fucking mosquito!!!!

So you are telling me that Sasuke had feelings for her but kept it hidden all along and still tried to kill her like a pest???

Give me a fucking break!!!!

And you all know, who changed Sasuke’s heart here in this scene. It was not Sakura. There’s absolutely no reason for Sasuke to listen to that person and what’s more, Sasuke even made a promise (despite being in darkness, he had it in his heart to listen to that person) to destroy Konoha only after killing that person ..

WAR ARC

Well, this is the arc where Sakura behaves like a rabid dog on heat waiting for Sasuke and shamelessly trying to wag her tails. But Sasuke didn’t give two shits about her, not once or twice but multiple times.

MOMENT 1

An explosion was about to kill the whole shinobi alliance and this dude wants to save Jugo, his companion and Naruto, the person who will challenge his Revolution, his rival and the one whom he wants to kill. Why only Naruto??? Why not Naruto and Sakura???

Pink cherry Queen doesn’t even crossed Sasuke’s mind. Because he already threw her away in part 1.

MOMENT 2

Alright Bitch!!! The entire shinobi alliance was dying on the other side of the battlefield. And this asshole is doing a clownshow before Madara just to get inside Sasuke’s pants????

I mean, Come On!!!!

Well, if Sasuke truly likes her, he should be the one to have catched her or atleast should have asked her, ‘are you alright??’

I am sorry, where are the romantic feelings???

MOMENT 3

ROFLLLL🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

For the first time, Kishimoto is trolling those Sakutards through Sasuke’s words, what we, readers were right about all along. He is calling her useless here. And still these fake feminazis trying to ship her with him???

Don’t you guys have any self respect??? If so, this should be the moment to jump out of this trash ship.

MOMENT 4

Geez!!! You are still on this ship?????

He clearly doesn’t want to save her at all. The hawk can clearly lift 3 people. Sasuke is not even making an effort here.

And you are still yapping that he is blinded by darkness???

MOMENT 5

This is the moment SS calls it as ‘eyesmex’... While in reality, he was just looking at her and silently thanking her for helping him out. Do you know what is a real ‘eyesmex’??? I will attach it at the end.

If you guys pull this as true love, then he should have stayed in the same love till the end. But Sasuke has other ideas.

This is the one of the funniest thing in this arc. LOLLLLL

Instead of being relieved that Sakura was saved, Sasuke was wondering about Kakashi’s Susanoo.....and Sharingan.

Do people still think he cares about her????

MOMENT 6

Am cackling here, while dissecting the sorry state of this ship guys 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣!!!! If something good happens to me because of SS , it’s just the way you guys are making me laugh by making a clown out of yourself!!!!

Do you guys know something? There was a man named Itachi. Before massacring his clan, the very first person he killed was his ‘supposed’ Girlfriend, named Izumi. I wouldn’t say Itachi loved her like a lover boy. It was just one sided on her part. He just talks to her when he finds a spare time and considers her a good friend.

Do you know how he killed her?

By putting her in a ‘Tsukuyomi’. And what kind of Tsukuyomi, you ask?

Can you see how he fulfilled her dreams gracefully before he was going to kill her???

Why didn’t Sasuke do this???? Why particularly select a murdering genjutsu????

MOMENT 7

He said it, finally.

He don’t love her at all. There was no hidden feelings. He admitted from his own mouth.

One day later, after the final VoTE battle ends.... After exchanging some intense feelings and even crying tears of happiness with Naruto....

Sasuke tells Sakura, ‘Sorry’....

Ummm.... That’s all???

All those negative shits happened before cannot be solved by just simply saying ‘Sorry’ and ‘Thank you’. If someone has an ounce of self-respect, they should know this is not OKAY at all...🙅🏻‍♀️🙅🏻‍♀️🙅🏻‍♀️🙅🏻‍♀️

Am Sorry, but Sasuke was just being politely blunt, kind of insincere towards Sakura and turned his attention somewhere else in a matter of minutes. He was not even bothered by Sakura’s tears here. Instead staring at someone on his left. Remember I talked about touching the person physically and visually?

Sasuke is subconsciously or purposefully touching someone on his left through his eyes. Definitely it’s not Sakura. You know who it is. Remember SStards’ infamous ‘eyesmex’... I seriously believe this is a perfect example of ‘eyesmex’.

All these intense looks and feeling pain still doesn’t serve Sakura, even after pulled out of darkness. If there is a moment, where SS wants to shine, then this is where it should be. He should have told her, how he missed her all along, how he felt about hurting her, should have wiped her tears and some corny shit. But instead, Sasuke went for a long ass monologue for his friend and talking about sharing his pain.

What about your kween’s pain????

You don’t have to ship SNS. But you should know where Sasuke’s priorities are.

It’s not Sakura.

Sasuke said ‘Sorry’ to Karin too. ‘Thank you’ to Kakashi as well.

And what’s even more pathetic is, still Sakura wants to get inside Sasuke’s pants by accompanying him. Bitch, you can help your village, console your best friend Ino who lost her father, try to surpass Tsunade, improve your skills or whatever... Why bother him???

So, if you really think ‘Thank you’ as a token of love, then I can’t help it but term Sakura as a rabid dog who waits for her master to come home and throw some bones whenever he finds time. Your standards for a romantic love is piss poor and you will suffer just like Sakura in Boruto with just emptiness. All Sasuke did was poke her forehead just like Itachi which symbolizes keeping someone at a distance. He also said the same words to her just like Itachi said to him many times ‘Mata kondo da’ meaning ‘Maybe next time’. And we all knew that next time never came for Sasuke.

Now all we see is a Sasuke as an absentee father in Boruto for which I don’t blame him. He was never a marriage material in the first place. Sakura and the Manga Editors forced him and she is paying for it.

Hell, Sarada doesn’t know how her own father looks like or the truth of her mother. Both of them were miserable and I find it absolutely ridiculous when SS shippers still say “they’re in love” or they’re OTP.

All I want to say to SS shippers is, Your Ship Has Sailed Already. You cannot expect Sasuke to go lovey dovey towards Sakura with a 12 year old daughter around and for fuck’s sake, this is not a romance manga, it’s a battle manga. So stop dreaming about this kind of non-existential romance and pull yourself altogether.

#naruto analysis #ask #sasunaru #sasunarusasu #anti sakura #anti sasusaku

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astoldbygingersnaps · 4 years

Note

Dear author, it's your creepy reader Birk again. 😬 For the Director's Cut, is there anything you are comfortable sharing with us about this line from the Ch 5 finale of "all the stars are closer"??: "It is one of the many mysteries he has regarding his heritage, as he’s never been able to wrap his mind around why his strict, traditional father caused an unfathomable scandal by breaking his childhood betrothal to marry Mikoto." Alternatively,

is there anything else you want readers to know about this latest ch 5?? Either way, thank you so much for writing and sharing your stories with us!!

Let’s Talk About Messy Vulcan Family Dynamics, Baby !

so, first up: fugaku and mikoto! i’ll be one hundred percent honest and say i don’t have a specific or detailed idea of how exactly their courtship started, but i imagine it starting because of fugaku’s duties as the vulcan ambassador to earth. given that mikoto was an incredibly gifted and well-known astrophysicist i i can definitely see fugaku seeking her out for her expertise to resolve some sort of starfleet-related issue and becoming smitten with her in his uptight, emotionally unexpressive way. because of him being Like That, i definitely imagine that mikoto was the pursuer and eventually one thing led to another and they ended up committing to each other.

with the finale of part two, i wanted to make it as clear as possible that in a lot of ways itachi was an unreliable narrator when it came to how he saw fugaku and his marriage to mikoto. at the beginning of the chapter, i wanted to set fugaku up as a colder, almost antagonistic figure because that was how itachi saw him, and as we were in itachi’s perspective we would have to feel biased against him. but by the end i wanted it to be clear that fugaku wasn’t a bad person or a bad husband; he’s just a complicated man pulled in a lot of different directions because of his duties. and that’s a dynamic that will be explored later on, as--mild spoiler alert--the fic doesn’t end when we catch up to the events of the prologue, and we will be seeing what itachi’s post-corvus life on vulcan looks like.

speaking of things we some more of as the fic goes on: We Have To Talk About Sasuke. in a lot of ways, it was super easy to translate the fugaku-mikoto-itachi-sasuke family drama from canon into this au (tho unlike kishimoto i’m not a sexist weirdo, so i really tried to flesh mikoto’s character out and give her a personality of her own) while itachi will always be my #1 son, i have a lot of love for sasuke, and after discussing him so early in part one i was super excited to finally introduce him for real.

i think it’s interesting how in canon it’s clear that even though they both adored each other they were, in a lot of ways, pitted against each other, something that started even before the massacre: sasuke was obviously pressured to be more like itachi, while i bet itachi envied how sasuke was allowed to have more of a childhood and wasn’t pushed into the shinobi life at such an early age. with this fic i wanted to explore that tension between them, because i felt like it was never given a lot of depth or resolved in a way that was productive or cathartic (honestly, the less said about the way kishi ended the itachi + sasuke + danzo + massacre plotline, the better)

for this fic, i think it’s pretty obvious that itachi and sasuke have dealt with their status in vulcan society and their place in the universe in opposite ways: in terms of how they view and interact with the world, itachi is basically just a vulcan, and sasuke is basically just a human. neither one of them has made an effort to fuse the two halves of themselves together, which is something that itachi starts to commit himself to at the end of part two. but as much as they come into conflict, there’s also a deep love between them and a connection as they’re the only two people in the known universe that have this specific hybrid experience. while i don’t think everything has been 100% fixed by the time itachi leaves vulcan, i do think they’re in a place of healing where they can hopefully bring some balance to each other’s lives.

ANYWAY that’s my massive, rambling take that i’ve put way too much thought into! thanks for the ask and sorry for the five paragraph essay lmfao

#birkastan2018 #asks and memes #star trek au #wow this was way too long whoops

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illwork4anime · 4 years

Text

Original Ch1 for Done with Love

@rebuildingkonohaonceagain requested this deleted chapter of done with love - so here it is! Read if you’d like!

Summary: Sakura saves a patient important to Shikamaru, then She and Shikamaru discuss how to get Sasuke back on her own.

I like this take, because it makes fun of Kishi’s Sakura a bit through Shika’s perspective and shows how I’d make her actually a good character instead of a love obsessed bimbo - hence the title “Done with Love’

Chapter 1 – Not Mine

Present Day

Sakura

REDACTED FIRST SCENE BUT SHE IS CAPTURED

10 months, 10 days ago

5:30 PM

Sakura

At some level, I've always felt my life was not mine.

As a child, my life had been lived for my parents, who loved me so fiercely. I'd been a miracle, they said. My mother never said so, but she had always loved kids and wanted several of her own. She'd babysit her friends' children and look at baby clothes just for fun. She volunteered at the children's wing of the hospital too. Only later would I learn my mother was afflicted with a disease rendering her infertile according to the doctors. I was a statistical anomaly and my mother's baby themed extra-curriculars were trying to fill a void that even I couldn't.

As a slightly older child, I'd lived for the sisterhood of Ino. She stood up to bullies for me and told me I was pretty. She was everything I needed and wasn't. Brave, caring, and so effervescent. If anyone truly lived for themselves, it was Ino, and I so desperately wanted to be like her.

Then, in the golden years of the academy, I met Sasuke and unwittingly gave my life to 'love'. More accurately to an unhealthy infatuation with Sasuke. What girl my age hadn't? All it cost was my relationship with my best friend, Ino, and any chance I had to be taken seriously as a ninja. Looking back, what a rip off. Girls do the stupidest things in the name of love. Hear a rumor Sasuke likes long hair? Grow your hair long even though it makes taijutsu practice a nightmare. Hear Sasuke likes delicate hands? Well, better do half hour-long skin treatments in the evening and skip out on kunai target practice whenever possible.

It wasn't until the Chunnin exams that I really realized how much I'd screwed myself. Even then, I'd doubled down on 'loving' Sasuke. When he left us, I clung to my love for him and let it motivate my life. I'd get stronger and work with a legendary Sannin myself and someday, I'd bring him home. He'd see how devoted I was throughout it all and he'd respect me for that until eventually that grew into love. We'd start a family and be together forever.

So misguided, right?

As I sit here in my office at the hospital, trying to fill out my charts from my shift, I can't help but chuckle at my own naivety. That was a dream.

And I am finally awake.

I dip my hand in to my lab coat, tracing the note there. The one I found when I 'woke up'. When I broke into Sasuke's childhood home, mourned him, and left him there with the rest of those broken dreams.

I was done with love. I was done with it running my life and I was ready to live for what I wanted. And what I wanted was my family back – my team 7 home. That meant Naruto no longer reckless and desperate for Sasuke, and for his only to focus to be on becoming Hokage. For Kakashi, to stop sulking around the village, hung up on another failure of a student.

I want to stop Sasuke from hurting my precious people. Mine not his.

But first, I want to go home, eat some takeout, and have a bubble bath because it's been a long day. Only 3 charts stand in my way.

When I finish them, I stretch my hands over my head, trying to straighten the hunch in my back from slaving over paperwork. Gathering the files, I make my way to the hallway.

"Thanks for your help today, Kanna," I hear the new girl, Ami, say to the plump, middle age nurse as they make their way toward me.

"Of course, dear. We'll done." She says with a motherly smile. Kanna notices me and gives a wave. "Ah, Sakura. Headed out for the day?"

I nod. "Sure am. I've got a hot date with some fried rice." I say smiling.

Ami looks disappointed, "Careful now. If you keep dating fried food, you'll end up like me some day." She gestures to her round figure and the comment makes me feel uncomfortable.

"If I end up being half the woman you are, I'd be quite happy with that," I say encouragingly.

"That's very flattering, dear," Kanna replies looking not the least bit flattered. "But take it from me, men taste much better than fried food. Fewer calories too."

Kanna's following wink has Ami and me turning scarlet.

"I – uh," I stutter not quite knowing what to say to that. "I'm not sure I have time for a relationship right now."

"Come now," she dismisses my excuse, "There's more to life than working at the hospital. Plus, it doesn't have to be anything serious! Women have certain needs too, you know."

Ami looks ready to faint. I decide to not so subtly change the subject.

"So, Ami, good first day then?" I say sweetly. Ami nods, smile coming back to her face.

"Yes, its been wonderful. Thank you for asking. Everyone has been really kind and helpful." She said gratefully, "Plus, it's been such a slow day-,"

"No, Ami!" Kanna interjects, "Look what you've done. You've jinxed us all!"

Ami looks surprised again and looks between me and Kanna looking for a clue to what she said wrong.

"Jinxed us?" She squeaks.

"If you learn nothing else today, remember this: never ever say 'its been a slow day'. That's how you get slammed with new intakes and stuck here until 2 am." Kanna scolds back.

"Oh, you don't really believe that, right?" Ami tries to laugh off the mistake. She throws a pleading look to me, like I'll be more reasonable. "That's just an old wives' tale."

I just shrug and say, "I'm sorry, but she's right. Its been scientifically proven. I even had my intern last year do a study and the findings were actually-,"

I was cut off by the slam of doors flying open at the end of the hall. Three nurses pushed a stretcher toward us, voices breaking the quiet.

"Here, take these to the record room," I say shoving my charts into Ami's arms. She looks shocked white. "Kanna, you're with me."

"Yes, ma'am." She says, shooting a mild glare at Ami before following me to commotion.

As I arrive, recognize that woman on the stretcher immediately and suppress the emotional response that spikes up. It's Kurenai-sensei.

I note one nurse is holding hemostatic gauze to her chest while another tries to attach a blood-pressure cuff. The third is driving the stretcher, reporting her heartrate states from the EKG. I turn to him and say, "What are we dealing with here?"

"Haruno-san," He looks relieved, "Puncture wound to the chest, possible internal bleeding in the abdomen. Heart rate is dropping, but doesn't appear to be damaged from the puncture wound."

"Poison?" I ask.

"No, it was a training exercise." He answers. Good, that makes things easier.

"Head to surgical room 5. Kanna, take the puncture wound. Stop the bleeding," I announce and turn to the nurse struggling with the BP cuff, "Get me those BP stats, ASAP."

I don't wait for her confirmation and order administration of an anti-coagulant before pressing a charka gloved hand onto Kurenai's abdomen. It's not good.

There's massive internal hemorrhaging crushing her insides. It thrums with each pump of her heart. Something else as is thrumming as well. A flutter like a hummingbird's wings smothered underneath the blanket of blood.

"Stop the coagulant!" I cry, eyes flying open, "She's pregnant."

Sakura

10:30 pm

While it's not quite 2 am when we finish, the surgery takes me well past the end of my shift. We got Kurenai-sensei stabilized with no harm to her child, but it wasn't easy. I'm dead on my feet, as is the rest of my staff.

I address Kanna as we disrobe out of our PPE, "Let's keep her 3 days for observation. I want to make sure the baby is alright. She appears stable now, but sometimes there's delayed trauma that can terminate."

Kanna nods, "I'll tell the attending right away."

I smile weakly, "Thanks Kanna."

"Now go home! You're late for your date." She says winking. I laugh.

"See, isn't it lucky I don't have some poor guy waiting on me? This is why I don't date." I joke.

This time her smile is full of pity and I regret making the joke at all.

"Haruno-san?" An aid named Daichi calls into the surgical room, head swiveling until he finds me by the sinks. I wave him over.

"There's a young man pacing in the waiting room. Shikamaru Nara, I think. He came in with the patient." He says. Its customary for the attending physician to give an update once patents have stabilized, but as he looks me up and down taking in the exhausted expression on my face and my hunched shoulders, he asks, "Should I send a nurse for an update?"

If she hadn't know Shikamaru personally, she would have readily agreed, but this kind of news was better coming from a friend.

"Not necessary, Daichi," I answer, "Shikamaru's a friend. I'll see to him as soon as I'm finished here."

He nods and leaves.

Kanna elbows me in the side, "Looks like you might have a date after all."

I roll my eyes at her yell, "Go home, Kanna!" over my shoulder as I leave to the waiting room.

When I arrive, Shikamaru is easy to spot. As Daichi said, he's pacing back and forth I the rear of the waiting room, his spiky ponytail bobbing with each turn. I don't think I've ever seen him so worked up.

I call to him as I approach, and it startles him out of his state of worry.

"Sakura!" he says, "Is Kurenai alright? Tell me everything's alright."

I give him my best reassuring smile and say, "Yes, she's stable Shikamaru. It was a tough surgery, but she's a fighter."

People love to hear that their loved ones are 'fighters' I've noticed. It gives them some feeling of control over something that is so often uncontrollable. Shikamaru was no different as he relaxed slightly.

"And the baby?" He asks. This surprises me. How did Shikamaru know this before I did? I may socially live under a rock here at the hospital, but if news like that was public knowledge, then Ino would have called me right away to gossip. Then I remembered Kurenai's chart. The emergency contact listed as Asuma Sarutobi, crossed out with Shikamaru's name and number listed below. Asuma had entrusted Kurenai and her child with Shikamaru, it seemed.

"The baby is also stable," I say and his shoulders finally go slack as he collapses into one of the plastic chairs lining the walls. I slide into the one next to him and continue, "We need to keep her here under observation for a few days. Sometimes there is a delayed response to acute trauma and the child's condition turns for the worse. We're closely monitoring her and the baby to make sure this doesn't happen."

Shikamaru nods, and it seems he's only half listening to my words.

"Can I see her?" He asks, but I shake my head.

"No visitors until morning. I'm sorry, but she needs to rest right now." I say. He just drops his head in his hands and takes a deep breath.

"I really screwed up, Sakura." He whispers. I place a hand on his arm.

"Don't beat yourself up. Everything's fine. Kurenai's fine." I try to reassure him.

He looks up at me, eyes holding a strange reverence I've never seen from him.

"I owe you one, Sakura." He says. Now that she had heard before. She almost says 'its nothing', but it isn't nothing.

"I'll send you this bill later, then, okay?" I say with another soft smile.

"I'm serious," He says, upset by my joking tone. "A life debt. I owe you a life debt."

Coming from someone like Shikamaru, I know he's serious, but that weight behind his words and the look on his face have me shifting uncomfortably in my seat. This is just my job, and I don't keep tallies for wins, loses or debts. The scales never quite even out when I do.

"How about we just start with a drink?" I say lightly. "I think we both could use one."

Shikamaru

10:45 PM

I've never really enjoyed the company of Sakura Haruno. She'd always been lumped into the under-achieving, Sasuke loving fan club that was too much of a headache to pay attention to. Instead, he was force fed all his updates about her from Ino. There was constantly something to be up in arms about but never anything of real importance. Mostly he equated her presents to a fruit fly buzzing around in his periphery. Annoying, but easy to ignore.

He remembered the first time he was impressed with a Sakura related update. After Sasuke left, she had landed an apprentice with the legendary Tsunade herself. Other than that, he hadn't really given her a second thought.

But when he heard her call his name in the waiting room, all the little bits of information jealously relayed through Ino added up to one single emotion – relief. Sakura had made something of herself and Shikamaru didn't know what he would have done had she not been there.

As they entered a late-night food stall with excellent Takoyaki and Sake, he was once again reminded of how little he really knew about Sakura. The old Sakura would have chattered away, filling any silence she could with inconsequential self-centered information which would eventually lead back to Sasuke. But this Sakura wasn't like that at all.

She had been mostly quiet during the walk over, beginning with some additional facts about Kurenai's condition which he only half understood. Then sensing his disengagement with the subject, she asked if he a favorite food stands he like to visit.

Which led them here.

The sake comes first, and I drain one saucer, then two. It steadies my nerves just as he hoped. I feel her eyes on me, but Sakura doesn't comment. Instead, I see her lift her saucer in a 'cheers' motion before draining it as I had. She smiles until her stomach grumbles loudly and she her face goes red.

"Sorry – I haven't eaten since lunch!" She explains. "My shift was supposed to be over at 6:00 and I was going to grab dinner but then, um, you know." I nod sparing her.

"You forget Chouji's my best friend. I'm used to hearing that sounds every hour on the hour."

"I'm not sure being compared to Chouji really makes me feel any better." She says carefully, with a laugh.

"Well, I'd compare you to Ino, but I'd probably get punched for it later." I say and she laughs again.

Our Takoyaki comes, just as I feel myself loosening up a little. It feels like I'm talking to a stranger and I've never been good at small talk. It doesn't seem to matter though, because Sakura is fully fixated on the food in front of her, popping the first Takoyaki in her mouth with a groan.

"This is either the best Takoyaki in the village, or I'm way more famished than I thought" She says.

"Hunger is the best seasoning," I say lamely. She doesn't make fun of me like I expect though.

"Is that another Chouji thing?" She asks, "He might be far wiser than we ever believed."

I chuckle a bit at that. She's kind of funny, and the light-heartedness is exactly what I need right now.

"Please never tell him that. I would totally go to his head and I don't need any more self-confidence on my team." I say.

"Right, I think Ino has enough for all three of you," She says, understanding my reference right away.

I grunt in agreement and take a bite.

She waits until she halfway through her plate before saying, "So, what have you been up to? I haven't seen you in forever."

"Mostly doing paperwork for the Hokage. It appears I'm her lap dog now." I say more sarcastically than bitter. It occurs to me that being the Hokage's apprentice, that's probably something Sakura already knew. Just like she also knows I'm off field work for the next month for bereavement after Asuma's passing.

"I know how that feels," Sakura commiserates. "What does she have you working on?"

This Sakura must also already know but I answer anyway, "Mostly doing analysis on upcoming Chunin. I go over their strengths and weakness, then make recommendations on training routines to help round them out. I also suggest team assignments for mission requests, but I think this is mostly an exercise in mentoring the younger generation."

She makes a thoughtful sound then says, "That doesn't sound like something you'd be very into."

I raise an eyebrow at her and she adds, "Not saying you wouldn't be great at it! Just seems like you wouldn't be into mentoring is all."

I ponder this for a moment and realize Sakura is probably dealing with the same challenges I am, trying to reconcile the lazy, reclusive boy with the person Shikamaru is now.

"I actually like it better than I thought I would." I explain, "Asuma-sensei actually taught me that the next generation is what's worth protecting and shaping them is our duty as Jonin."

"Well, I think he'd be proud of what you're doing her Shikamaru." She says encouragingly. I fiddle with the empty cup in my hand and blanch at the sappiness of it. Somethings haven't changed, I guess.

"What about you?" I change the subject, "how is the hospital?"

I expect her to smile and gush about how great it is working for the Hokage and saving lives, but she doesn't.

"Its…Its good." She finally says. "Its rewarding, but I miss field work and going out with a team, you know? Its just a little lonely training by myself."

"That's right, Naruto's back out with Jiraiya." I suddenly feel a little like an ass for talking so much about my team.

"Yeah, but don't get me wrong, I'm really happy for him." She says, "Its such a great opportunity and he needs to do it."

I nod.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is I wish I got out of the hospital more. I get a lot of flak from the older nurses for not having a social life or a boyfriend." She rambles a little bit, showing some signs of discomfort at having to explain herself.

I have no interest in talking about her dating life so I say, "Do you feel like you've peeked at the hospital then?"

"Exactly!" She looks relieved, "I feel like there's nothing more to learn there, but I'm stuck. I just want to move on to the next chapter like Naruto and…" Sasuke. She doesn't say it but I know that's what she's thinking.

"And I just need to, like, move on," She finishes instead.

I just nodded and take another drink. Its not clear if she's talking about moving on from the hospital or Sasuke at this point. Either way, I'm not good with advice, so I don't say anything. There's a few moments of silence before Sakura turns to me again with a look of excitement that has me instantly on guard. It's the same look Ino has before she forces him to do something reckless and utterly troublesome.

"Do me," Sakura says, her eyes lighting up. I sit up, a blush spreading across my cheeks.

"I'm – um, what?" I stammer.

"Do me," Sakura says with more conviction, "So I can get unstuck and move on."

I tug at my collar a bit, my throat feeling a little tight, "Look I'm sorry if I've sent you some mixed signals here, but I'm not interested in a hook-up and I don't think that's a healthy way for you to 'move on'."

This time Sakura stiffens with a blush.

"What?" she exclaims, and I can see the wheels turning in her mind, going over what she's said again, "No. No, no, no." She said waving her hands in front of her as if clearing the air of an unpleasant smell.

"I meant, analyze me. Like you do for the chunin you mentor." She clarifies, unable to look me in the eye.

"Oh - well, sure." I said quickly, turning into my drink to avoid eye contact as well. Normally I'd be annoyed at a request like this, but anything to change the subject from a drunken hook-up with Sakura Haruno.

"What are your goals?" I ask quickly. She takes a beat to catch up with the misdirection, then responds.

"To bring Sasuke back home," She answers. She doesn't ponder, but that doesn't surprise me. Though a lot has changed, I understand that this fundamental part of who Sakura is probably never will. I imagine that phrase constantly running in the back of her mind until it fades into the subconscious like the sound of your own heartbeat.

"What a surprise," I drawl sarcastically. Her eyes narrow as I've obviously hit a nerve, but she waits for me to continue. "And how do you plan to achieve that goal?"

Her certainty stutters. "Well, I have to get stronger. Strong enough to stand shoulder to shoulder with Naruto and Sasuke. Then we can bring him home together and be a team again."

I want to bang my head against the table at how unrealistic this idea was. This was going to be harder than I thought. Still better than talking about her dating life, I remind myself. Also, somehow this is much better than the niceties and small talk from before.

"Okay, but how will you bring him home?" I reiterate.

"I just told you," She says annoyed.

"No, what you told me is an intention or an idea. I want details. What are your steps to achieving that idea? What's your plan?" I continue.

She sits there for a few seconds, waffling. "Um, I-I'm not sure."

I raise an eyebrow, "I find that hard to believe. You've been obsessing about this for over 2 years."

"I haven't been obsessing, okay? I've been training. That's my plan. I'm getting stronger, so I don't get left behind anymore by them" She replies.

"That's a good first step." I conceded, trying to placate her a little. Last thing I need is her getting too worked up, punching me in the gut and storming off leaving me with the bill. I try a different approach, "When you imaging bringing Sasuke home, what does it look like? What happens?"

Her cheeks turn pink again, and she starts with what I assume is a heavily edited daydream.

"Well, usually there are two scenarios. In one, Sasuke comes home on his own, having escaped Orochimaru after realizing that snake only wanted him as a vessel and that the only real way to defeat Itachi is with me by his side." Her eyes were focused in the distance, far away from reality. "And Naruto! I mean. Not, um, just me by his side. With Team 7 by his side." She corrects.

I struggle to keep from rolling my eyes. I was totally right about the daydream.

"The second, Naruto and I find Sasuke in the sound village. We try to convince him to come home, but he doesn't listen, and we fight. With two against one, we eventually ware him down, and offer him another chance to come home. He realizes he was wrong about cutting his bonds and accepts. Or we just kick his ass and drag him back." She finishes with a self-satisfied smile.

What a fairytale, rose-colored, underdeveloped plan. A fantasy and nothing more. I am in over my head. Telling her as much would certainly land him with a broken bone or two, so he redirected her.

"Okay, let's focus on the second scenario. I think we can both agree that this is the more likely of the two." I start. She looks like she does not agree, but I continues anyway, "There are two things to consider further. How do you get to the start of this encounter and what happens after. Let's start with the start. In this scenario, how do you get to find Sasuke in the sound village?"

"On a retrieval mission from Tsunade-Sama," She answers. Of course, she would pick the most by the book option.

"And who normally goes on retrieval missions for missing-nin?" I ask, not missing a beat.

"Well, that depends on the missing-nin and what skillset is needed" She says stubbornly, but she knows what I'm getting at.

"What rank, Sakura?" I say, not giving her an out this time.

"ANBU black ops. Hunter-nin." She answers, but quickly adds, "But this is different. Tsunade would make an exception. Naruto has the nine-tails and she trained me herself, so-,"

"Even if she wanted to," I cut in, "She couldn't make that exception. The council wouldn't let her."

Sakura doesn't answer, but she frowns telling me she knows this is true.

"If you wanted to get the mission legally, you'd have to be accepted into ANBU and then petition Tsunade to grant you the mission." I explain.

Sakura's mind snagged on one word, "Legally?"

I nod. "That's the only legal way for you to get assigned such a mission. The other option is to defect, become a missing-nin yourself."

"No," She refuses, "that's out of the question." I nod again, unsurprised by her stubborn rejection.

"Then you're looking at one to two years to build up mission requirements to enter the Jonin exams. You have to pass on the first go, a 50% probability given passing rates of the exam. Then, a minimum of 3 years to get noticed for recommendation to ANBU. For those not from a clan and with no kekkei genkai, it's more likely double that. Total, it'd be at least 7 years before you could go after him with the village's approval." I finish.

"I can't wait that long!" She exclaims, "We only have a year left before Orochimaru takes Sasuke as his vessel. It has to be before then."

I raise my hands in a gesture of surrender, "Don't shoot the messenger. I'm just stating the facts here."

"I know," She is quiet a long moment. "I know."

I finish off my drink, pouring another sake for myself and topping off Sakura's. Her plate is finished, and she's fiddling with her chop sticks. I can see she's struggling with what I've laid out. I get it. She didn't want to defect and turn her back on her home, family and friends. Sasuke had nothing to lose when he left Konoha behind, but Sakura had everything.

"I'm not afraid to work for it, but," She trailed off, killing her full glass before continuing. "I want nothing more than to help Naruto bring him back, but I can't throw everything away. I want to be strong enough to put everything I have on the line for the people I love, but I can't. I can't go down the same path as Sasuke without somehow becoming him, or at least letting him control my life again, you know?"

I don't fully get that but nod anyway. I can tell she is feeling the sake now, because her words are more rapid and smear together a little.

I take another long drink from my glass before laying out the plan that I find most optimal.

"There is one more way," I say, not looking at her. "It's still difficult and with the one year time limit, you might be cutting it close. Its not exactly legal either, but if you pulled it off, you wouldn't be labeled a missing-nin."

I glanced at her from the corner of my eye to find her hanging on my every word.

"As you are now, a chunin, it's extremely rare to go on solo missions. Even if you do get one, its only for a day or two and very close to the boarder. For Jonin, however, its not uncommon to have a month-long solo mission in remote countries like Wave or Sound. I'd say about 30% of current A-rank missions meet these criteria." I state.

She nods, "So, what's your point?"

"If you were to make Jonin, and get assigned to one of these, it would be possible to take a," I search for the appropriate word, "- detour to find him. Given the timeframe and location of the mission, that would be easy to cover up by reporting a slightly different version of the events. Say Sasuke ran into you and you had to engage him. At that point, it's required to attempt to bring him back as long as it doesn't jeopardize the primary mission. The only person who would refute you would be Sasuke, but I doubt they'd put much stock into what he has to say." I say.

"Shikamaru, that's brilliant!" Sakura gushed. "I'd be able to bring him back without leaving the village."

"Don't get ahead of yourself. It's not that easy," I try to temper her joy. "There's still a lot of unknowns and things that could go wrong to get there."

Sakura isn't deterred, "As long as I work my hardest, I can get there. Or at least I'll know I did everything I could."

I let out a laugh, "Haven't you heard the phrase 'work smarter not harder'?"

"Yes, and I get the feeling that's your nindou, Shikamaru." She teased.

"Something like that." I mutter, feinting slightly that I'm put out.

"I'll need your help then, Shikamaru." She says with sudden soberness. "If I'm going to pull this off, I need you to help me strategize. To see the obstacles in my way and help me think of ways around them."

"Absolutely not," I say, without hesitation, "This is a fun little exercise, but that's all. You aren't seriously considering it?" I say, but the sinking feeling in my stomach tells me I know full well she is taking every word I've said tonight at face value.

"I am, and I'm not drunk enough to be convinced otherwise." She says, "But you seem to be forgetting something. You owe me a favor." Her grin is positively Cheshire.

"This is a little much –," I protest.

"You said a life debt. This is well within that definition. You are helping me save Sasuke's life." She counters.

"And you are also forgetting something," I remind her, more force behind my words this time. "We've only gone over half the story. These are the events leading up to you confronting Sasuke. What are you going to do afterward? I don't see a lot of positive outcomes here, Sakura."

"Then explain it to me." She says, not backing down.

I sign a longsuffering sigh, knowing I'm going to regret this later. More than I already do.

"Sasuke isn't going to come back to the village by force. Even if you, how did you put it, 'kick his ass and drag him back', as soon as he is well enough, he will leave again. Even if he didn't, you wouldn't be a team again because he will most likely be imprisoned for some time, then on a probationary period as a genin. Probably capped at chunin rank for life."

Sakura carefully considers my words. "You're right."

That surprises me, probably the first time she's agreed with me all night.

Sakura continues, "Unless he comes willingly, there's no point in forcing him back, but I don't care about the probation. Naruto is willing to wait as long as it takes to be a team again. Even if we don't go on missions anymore, we can still be a team. We can still be together."

My initial reaction is to groan. Just sappy. Totally sappy. But, I give it a moment to sink in and think about my own team. They are a family and if I was in Sakura's shoes, I'd probably feel the same.

"Fair enough," I grunt. "What a drag. Persuading him to come back would be ten times harder than using force. It might even be impossible."

"Come on, Shika. Nothing's impossible with your mind on the case." She said a little too sweetly.

"Shika?" I wince, "If you're trying to butter me up, that's not going to work. You were better off your original approach– emotional blackmail."

Even with the duplicitous tone, her smile is genuine. It stops my heart for just a beat. Her cheeks are still rosy from the drink, hair tied back in a messy knot that leaves carefree strands swinging around her face, and her jade eyes sparkle.

I can't remember the last time I'd seen such a look on her, or anyone's face for that matter, directed at me. I'd seen her smile though tears often enough, and though I'd never say it to her face, she is an ugly crier. There was the exhausted but satisfied smile as she left the hospital. Also, a sterile, polite smile she gives to acquaintances or strangers as they passed in the Hokage's office. Even the comforting, professional smile of a doctor reassuringly delivering Kurenai's progress report. Never this.

This is lightning across her face - lighting up with unadulterated excitement and crackling with conspiratorial comradery that bordered on flirtation. Was it her one hundred percent focus on me, the way she was hanging on my every word, or the proximity in the tiny food stand that has me feeling drawn in by her? I strangely want to lean closer and –

"Better than slapping you across the head until you help me!" She says in an innocent, sing song voice. (AN: GOD I HATE THAT LINE. OH WELL)

And there it goes.

"God damn it, Sakura! Don't even joke about that," I say, pulling away from her as much as the seat will allow. She just laughs and waves off the joke.

"One way or another, I know you love to strategize, Shikamaru." She says, mercifully using my full name. "This might be enough of a challenge to catch your interest even without blackmail."

"Don't count on it. You forget how lazy I am, and this sounds like too much work to be bothered." I say brushing her off.

"Humor me here. How would you do it? How would you convince him to come back?" She says, tone coming back to serious again.

I think quietly for a minute. Then another.

"Don't fall asleep on me," She says, impatient.

"I'm thinking, woman," I snap.

"Then think out loud." She replies. I mutter 'troublesome women' under my breathe but comply with her request.

"From Sasuke's perspective, he left for revenge on Itachi, or rather strength to carry out the revenge. He won't want to come home until this is complete. He's made it clear several times that he's discarded his bonds and even Naruto couldn't convince him otherwise. So, any offers to help him will be disregarded."

"Well, obviously," Sakura says with a little too much force. I ignore her tone.

"The easiest course would be to wait until he's completed his revenge and confront him then." I conclude.

"We can't wait that long," Sakura counters, "Naruto will want him home before Orochimaru tries to use him as a vessel."

"Honestly, if I were Sasuke, I'd be planning to kill Orochimaru the second I surpass him, well before Orochimaru tries anything." I say candidly.

"Yes," Sakura gasps, "He wouldn't just turn over. He'd fight."

"Exactly. Sasuke's smart and wouldn't trust Orochimaru to kill Itachi after the body transfer is complete." I add on. "Let's assume this is the case."

"We can't," She interjects, "I want to believe Sasuke could kill Orochimaru, but what if he fails. Naruto would want to be there to help him."

"I don't think that's wise. You'll just be two more people Sasuke is trying to fight." I respond.

Sakura lets out a frustrated huff, "Then why don't we just kill Itachi ourselves?"

Even though I'm sure she said it sarcastically, I dismiss the idea. "I don't think that's an option either. Too big a risk he'd just hate you guys forever and never return home. Even if we framed it on someone else, he would just have a new target."

"What are you trying to say then? That waiting is the only option and I should just give up?" She raises her voice a little too loud and the stall owner shoots a glance our way. I give him a smile back that says 'everything's fine here' and he turns away again.

I lean forward and say quietly, "Yes, that's exactly what I said in the beginning, but you wouldn't accept that."

When this doesn't change her expression, he continues, "There is one more thing I can think of, but you'll never go for it and neither would I."

I wait for her to say something and after a moment she prompts, "Well? Let's hear it!"

"We could offer Naruto as bait if he leaves. You could help lure Itachi to Sasuke since we know Akatsuki is after the nine-tails," I'm practically whispering. This is not something I should even be saying out loud.

"No," she whispers sharply, understanding the gravity of the idea. "How could you even think that?"

"I warned you that you wouldn't like it," I grumble, "I'm just trying to show you how few options you have here, and that the ones left aren't favorable. You will have to get your hands dirty here Sakura. One way or another."

She hisses out a breath, "I know. But I won't give up until I find a way to do this as clean as possible. I won't throw away my future for Sasuke anymore. I don't want to betray the village or Naruto for this."

"I know," I say with a sympathetic look. "I get it, I really do. But until we get more information or think of a way to convince Sasuke to give up his revenge, there's no way forward."

"More information…to convince him," Sakura mumbles, and dips a hand in the pocket of her coat. The pulls a piece of folded paper out, but doesn't open it. She mumbles something under her breath he can't quite catch.

"What was that?" I ask.

"I can do it." Sakura says with resolve. She grabs the paper and gestures with it, "I can get more information to convince him to give it up. I think I have a lead. I just need time,"

"Sakura, as you've said multiple times this evening, we don't have time here." I say sarcastically. That and I'm quite certain there is no new information out there to convince the only man more bull headed than Naruto to abandon his lifelong mission of revenge.

"Okay, fine. Here's the deal," She says, squaring up with me on her stool, "You be my mentor and help me strategize to get into the next Jonin exams. We agreed this was the first step regardless of what we plan to do after the confrontation with Sasuke. While I train, I'll keep looking for more information, for something big enough to convince him to stay. Once I have it, I'll do as you said and slip away during a long solo mission nearby the Sound Village. With whatever 'emotional blackmail' I uncover, I confront him and do my best to convince him to come home." She explains.

It was a terrible, awful plan. There were way to many what-ifs to be reliable. I pick one hole and probe.

"And if you don't find more information to convince him?" I ask, with no confidence that something like that exists.

"Then you win, and we wait Sasuke out. We monitor what he's up to and intercept him after he's finished with Itachi if he doesn't come back on his own." She reasoned. "No harm done if I get a promotion out of it anyway. And it will make it easier to track his movements, should it come to that." She tacks on at the end.

There is a tense moment as I mull over her words. Not like I really had a choice, here. I did owe this woman a life debt.

"Alright, deal." I grumble finally, "Damned if I do, damned if I don't."

Sakura lets out a relieved, heady laugh, and throws her arms around me with so much force, I'm almost knocked off my bar stool.

"Thank you!" She breaths out, pulling back. My cheeks grow warm, surprised by her outburst and the sudden physical contact. "Let's get me promoted!"

"They won't know what hit them," I say sarcastically, trying to make my reluctance known. Then, she's giving me that lightning grin again and I can't help but recognize those words I spoke are true, because I certainly didn't know what hit me either.

#DWL #Deleted chapter #done with love #beginning sucks so just skip to the Shikamaru POV

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