daifukumochiin

[daifukumochiin]

Summary: Sasuke's orderly life at elite Sairiumu Academy is disrupted by the arrival of Hinata, a timid transfer student whose obvious crush on him, a young man dedicated to his craft and his current relationship, stirs unease. (Initial SasuSaku with SasuHina endgame, modern Norse myth AU, high school, angst, romance, photography, postmodern-ish fic). Rated T

LIGHTS,

BOWS, and

MISTLETOES

an entry for SasuHina Month 2024, Day 27 : Forget and Remember

(for @peachy-hina, since December)

ffnet: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/14369143/1/Lights-Bows-and-Mistletoes

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57030778

Part 2: Bows

go to Chapter List>

Dear Mother and Sister, farewell!

Your Nanna may go to her Balder. Our lives were so closely interwoven

That even in death we are mated–

—Cornelia Steketee Hulst, Balder's Death

x

It was Hanabi‘s thirteenth birthday at the Byakugan Estate.  Hinata, sixteen, dressed in a modest but stylish Buon Giorno Armani ensemble, watched her sister return to the stage donning her third ball gown for the evening as the servants wheeled in a trolley carrying a three-tier cake adorned with fresh flowers and pink diamonds. The sisters had invited their friends, and their parents had invited business partners' relatives. They all sang the "Happy Birthday" song. As soon as the final notes lingered, the lights were dimmed, giving eminence to the pink cake’s warmly glowing candles. Hanabi leaned forward and blew them out. There was applause. A server passed by with peach-scented flutes. Hinata stepped a foot forward to hug Hanabi. But just before then, it happened.

It wasn’t gradual, no. Mercilessly and brutally, memories swooped up from within her with a skull-splitting ache. She howled at the pain, at images of resplendent faraway places she had never seen in her present life which had only known lofty opulence, of persons dear and yet unknown in the now, of home called Breidablik, of Hodor’s terrified face with a bow in hand who, being blind, could only imagine that something had gone horribly wrong; of Loki’s grin just before he disappeared in a mist. And herself, Nanna, with dearest Baldur, an arrow stuck to his chest, laying bloodied in her arms, the light in his eyes, in the strands of his hair fizzing out, the early morning glow of his complexion fading.

The cry that tore her throat was raw. The ugly force of it doubled her over, and she crumpled to the floor, clutching her chest tight as she strove breath over the sharp, frosted pieces of what shattered there. She wasn’t amid Aesir anymore—albeit her present parents and their friends were still powerful people over here in lowly Midgard—and when she came to look at her hands, they were clean, her nails coated in Funny Bunny just for her human sister’s birthday. Her wailing reverberated through the halls, but it could never fill the sunk hole that caved in from the surface formerly paved and appearing solidly passable by her forgetfulness, absorbed by the affairs of her human life.

The day after the incident, news outlets buzzed with stories about the first Byakugan Princess causing a scene at her sister’s birthday party. Online speculation ran wild—some suggesting that, because she didn’t usually stand out, she’d gone to extremes for attention, bratty and inelegant. Doctors and experts weighed in with a barrage of diagnoses: schizotypal personality disorder, schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, depression, delusional disorder… mainly, that she had a sickness of the mind. Her mother had ordered for her library to be cleared up of all the fiction books fearing the fairytales had instigated this somewhat. But they all missed that hers was a sickness of the heart, a matter striking at the very depths of her soul. 

There couldn’t be anything lonelier: she had come back to life, only to forget about Baldur for a long, long time; she finally remembered him, but he was nowhere to be found.

Struck with a malaise that doesn’t even know where to begin searching, Hinata, once Nanna, had never known the comfort of sleep again. Because even in dreams, Baldur wasn't there.

go to Chapter List>

[daifukumochiin]

May Colle Part 2, now up for grabs in the file archives✨

[daifukumochiin]

May Colle Part 2, now up for grabs in the file archives✨

[daifukumochiin]

May Colle Part 2, now up for grabs in the file archives✨

[daifukumochiin]

May Colle Part 2, now up for grabs in the file archives✨

[daifukumochiin]

May Colle Part 2, now up for grabs in the file archives✨

[daifukumochiin]

May Colle Part 2, now up for grabs in the file archives✨ Pinterest Board: https://pin.it/6TfJqFj4s

[daifukumochiin]

To my digital sticker club members, part 2 for May colle is still in the works. I apologize for the delay. I just really had to release Part 1 of LBM last month😽 I'll catch up in the next few days and release the June colle, and lastly the July colle. What is this, you ask... ? It's exactly what you think it is😉

[daifukumochiin]

LIGHTS,

BOWS, and

MISTLETOES

|CHAPTER LIST|

Summary: Sasuke's orderly life at elite Sairiumu Academy is disrupted by the arrival of Hinata, a timid transfer student whose obvious crush on him, a young man dedicated to his craft and his current relationship, stirs unease. (Initial SasuSaku with SasuHina endgame, modern Norse myth AU, high school, angst, romance, photography, postmodern-ish fic). Rated T @sasuhinamonth

🟢 Part 1: Lights

i ii iii iv v vi vii viii ix 🟢 Part 2: Bows 🟢 Part 3: Mistletoes

ffnet: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/14369143/1/Lights-Bows-and-Mistletoes

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57030778

[daifukumochiin]

Aaaand that’s a wrap for Part 1!

What is Hinata’s real identity and what is she after?

Will Sasuke be able to finish Inuwashi just in time for the Kage Jin?

Find out when I resume uploading Part 2 starting September 1.

Until then, see ya!

LIGHTS,

BOWS, and

MISTLETOES

|CHAPTER LIST|

Summary: Sasuke's orderly life at elite Sairiumu Academy is disrupted by the arrival of Hinata, a timid transfer student whose obvious crush on him, a young man dedicated to his craft and his current relationship, stirs unease. (Initial SasuSaku with SasuHina endgame, modern Norse myth AU, high school, angst, romance, photography, postmodern-ish fic). Rated T @sasuhinamonth

🟢 Part 1: Lights

i ii iii iv v vi vii viii ix 🟢 Part 2: Bows 🟢 Part 3: Mistletoes

ffnet: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/14369143/1/Lights-Bows-and-Mistletoes

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57030778

[daifukumochiin]

Summary: Sasuke's orderly life at elite Sairiumu Academy is disrupted by the arrival of Hinata, a timid transfer student whose obvious crush on him, a young man dedicated to his craft and his current relationship, stirs unease. (Initial SasuSaku with SasuHina endgame, modern Norse myth AU, high school, angst, romance, photography, postmodern-ish fic). Rated T

LIGHTS,

BOWS, and

MISTLETOES

an entry for SasuHina Month 2024, Day 27 : Forget and Remember

(for peachy-hina, since December)

ffnet: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/14369143/1/Lights-Bows-and-Mistletoes

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57030778

Part 1: Lights

go to Chapter List>

ix

The first camera he ever took a picture with was an old Nikon F3 that his father owned. Sasuke could still remember the clarity of that day, the sting of the cold, the freshness of dazzling sunlight that had only emerged from weeks of relentless snowfall that had buried Metro Konoha under a thick, unyielding blanket of white.

After loading their groceries in the car, his father drove up to a nearby playground where the sun directly hit and pulled out his camera bag to capture the neighborhood buried in snow.

"Come here, Sasuke," his father called. Bundled in layers of wool and down, Sasuke got out of the car, each breath a puff of steam that irritated his eyes. The sunlight burned bright and he couldn’t see very well while squinted.

His father’s imposing figure in a heavy coat knelt before him, shielding him from the sun, and placed the camera in his small gloved hands. He guided Sasuke’s fingers over the shutter button and instructed him where to look.

After steadying the camera against Sasuke’s stomach, he pressed Sasuke’s finger over the shutter button, capturing a shot of the picket fencing.

“See that? Now you try,” said his father. “Take a pretty picture. It’s not always like this around here.”

As soon as his father let go, Sasuke, driven by childlike curiosity, decided to move to a spot near the trees, captivated by the crepuscular rays and the golden glint of the sun sharply outlining their dark bodies. He showed the picture he had taken to his father, who, in turn, was pleasantly surprised.

“You’ve got a good eye!” his father said, ruffling Sasuke’s hair. The smile on his father's face, stretching from ear to ear, was warmer and brighter than anything Sasuke had ever known. Obeying his father brought pure joy, and the seed of a dream took root in his tiny heart as his toes curled with glee inside his boots.

They spent the morning wandering the snow-covered landscape, taking pictures of icicles, snow-laden branches, the sky, and the blue shadows. Even when hunger struck, his father’s praise kept him full and content against the cold; even as the tip of his nose and the delicate skin of his cheeks began to burn, the click of the shutter sent a thrill through his tiny frame that felt impossible to contain, making the time forgotten as though the adventure would never end.

One photo grew into a collection. The more photos he took, the more recognition he brought home, and Sasuke bore it with pride whenever his father showed friends the magazines that featured his works.

The great loop of Sasuke's reward and fulfillment revolved around showing his father his shots, chasing after elusive childhood sensations from that early memory. Until it all came crashing down in middle school—until it all came crashing down in middle school, when Sasuke, with grades slipping, boldly declared during a parent-teacher meeting that he didn’t need that much schooling, anyway; he was destined to be a photographer. His natural talent and skill were widely acknowledged, with his father, he believed, at the forefront of those who supported him.

How wrong, how naive he had been; his father had long since changed.

Sasuke never expected to wind up in a similar situation again: his perpetually busy parents sitting with him at the Sairiumu’s counselor’s office. Since he remained tight-lipped and refused to justify his actions, the result was a three-week suspension.

“This is a first. Care to explain?” His father’s tone was steady, almost clinical, as they drove to Sasuke’s shared apartment with Sakura.

A first? Sasuke didn’t respond; the last thing his father needed to hear was how the Photography Club was involved in all this. If his father was referring to the aggression, who could’ve predicted he’d be this desperate too?

In a way, his father pursued his notion of northernness and when he achieved something resembling it, had since been more driven to get closer to it, fully expecting his sons to follow in his steps.

“Didn’t you have karate classes? Was assaulting people all they ever taught their students?” his father said, frustration edging his voice.

Sasuke clenched his fists. He’d asked for those karate classes to avoid disrupting their lives with the stalking and other distressing situations he faced.

“Dear, it must’ve just been the stress,” his mother interjected, trying to diffuse the tension.

His parents left their sons to their own devices but supported each other unconditionally; his father's word was law, and his mother made sure it was carried out.

“As you’ve said, Sasuke hasn’t acted like this before,” his mother added gently. “Take this time to really rest, okay?” She rubbed his cheek, trying to soothe his sulking.

Before they left, his father said, “Don’t you dare pull something like this again. Now I have to go smooth things over with the folks at Iwa Mining Corp. and clean up this mess you’ve made… And don’t be carrying on this way around Chairman Haruno’s daughter. She’s the only good thing you’ve got going for you. All you do is play with your cameras with no business acumen whatsoever.”

He spent the next few days holed up in his bedroom editing photos. By then, a video of his attack on Morio had gone viral, racking up over 150 million views on FikTok. A meme of his furious face had spread like wildfire which equally made him a hot topic for being a looker in full-on rage.

Small-time tabloids and fake accounts quickly jumped in to spread malicious rumors about him. Everything spun out of control so fast that he didn’t have time to process it. Calls kept pouring in, but Sasuke refused to answer, not even from Neji. What followed was a spiral into a grand abyss. His only solace came from Sakura’s reassurances that she’d make things right, as he clung tight to her like Kandata to the single silvery thread of a spider lowered from paradise to hell.

“Why are you still with me?” Sasuke lay on his side, a cocktail of dread and self-loathing coursing through him after a wave of clarity set in, leaving him utterly spent from exertion, drenched in sweat reeking of canned beer.

"What sort of a question is that?" Sakura smiled.  “Of course, it’s because I love you.”

He wanted to believe her words, to trust that her love was genuine; he truly did. But deep down, doubt gnawed at him. Yet, letting go was not an option—that was not his prerogative. Easing his grip on the silver thread would unleash a terrible hell. Sakura was fully capable of it. Even worse, he could end up dragging down his family and their economic prospects with him.

When she looked into his eyes, he wondered what she saw—whether she truly saw into him or was merely looking at him. Either way, he found no reprieve. He'll remain as convincing as long as he possibly can, partly as a matter of survival, and mostly because he's allowing her to break his heart still.

“I need to go take a shower.” Sakura kissed his right temple and slipped off the bed.

As Sasuke watched her, his eyes lingered on the small tattoo just below the curve of her left breast. She had several tattoos, and this tiny plant had always been there ever since he first saw her naked, but he had never thought to ask about it.

Sakura glanced back with a knowing smile. "Why are you looking at me like that? Thinking of doing it again?"

She crawled back to him, planting soft kisses along his neck and up to his lips. He let his hand slide from her back to gently caress beneath her breast.

"What’s this tattoo? This one?" Sasuke emphasized by tracing it with his thumb.

Sakura giggled. "Why the sudden curiosity?"

"Just wondering…"

"Remember I had cancer when I was a kid? That was in my medication. And I thought it looked cute, so…”

Thoughts of a younger Sakura battling a fatal illness never failed to squeeze his heart to the point of physical pain. Yet, oddly enough, Sasuke was feeling less of that pain than he used to. Perhaps, he’d grown numb; perhaps he’d become heartless—perhaps he had always been. Perhaps that was the reason why he was being punished.

“It’s a mistletoe,” she said.

Suddenly, Hinata’s words from the rooftop came back to him, seizing the hair ends of his arms with the ghost trail of an icy draft. He didn’t believe in superstitions: scientifically, mistletoes are parasitic plants with medicinal properties, but there was no mention of any superstition, in any culture, of mistletoes being bad luck. In fact, they were believed to be the opposite.But at that moment, Sasuke felt a sense of foreboding, as if Sakura's mistletoe tattoo held the same warning as Hinata's words.

His running suspicion came confirmed when in the middle of the night, after Sakura fell asleep, and he’d gone to wash himself, a notification popped off on her phone, her screen scorching bright on her dresser in their dim room.

Normally, there’s an unspoken rule between them not to meddle with each other's mobile devices—Sakura meddled with his phone often to make sure only pictures of her were in his gallery, but he never did. But that night, Sasuke couldn’t resist.

Hey, you awake? I can't sleep. I need you... you're all I can think about.

It came from someone named M.

Mmm…

Like the way her lips formed preparing for the next vowel just before she rolled up her car window the evening, she left him out in the rain down Hashirama’s bridge.

Sakura Haruno was by no means a terrible archer, but during the archery inter-high tournament that spring, she was faced off with Karin Uzumaki, an old rival, who with just a mere smirk, ticked Sakura off like no other. Everything else went red for her during the finals except the target. She stretched her bow aiming for her last shot and let go prematurely.

She kept her smile for the cameras but when it was only her in the car with Sasuke trying to get through Konoha’s rush hour traffic, she kept to herself until they reached Hashirama’s bridge. Then, without preamble, she grabbed her bow case, got out of the car, pushed her way through the dense traffic to reach the bridge railings, and threw her equipment into the river below.

"Sakura!"

"Let's break up."

"Wait," said Sasuke. "How is any of this my fault? Let's first get back to the car."

"You're a genius–figure it out! All you've done was bore me, you know that?! I'd rather be anywhere right now than next to you!"

Never one to be honest with himself, he couldn't comfort her and lacked the right words to say. But someone else had the emotional vocabulary, and Sakura knew just the right guy. Because, even as the rain began to fall, she demanded that he leave, and reached for her phone to call the person on her mind who could offer what he couldn't.

Suddenly, while Sasuke zoned out at the letter M on Sakura’s screen, the phone was snatched from his hand.

“I don’t remember giving you permission.” Sakura glared at him, the screen light harsh against the slight contours of her face. Then she went to the toilet bringing her phone, and stayed there for over an hour. 

As before, Sasuke did the only way he’d ever known to cope. Seeing the bright moonlight filtering in through the window curtains, Sasuke grabbed his trusty Sony A7 II, attached an art lens to it, and went out onto the balcony.

When he checked his shots, a figure flitted through his vision on the streets below, looking up to him discreetly were she not exposed by a nearby streetlamp.

Hasn't she learned anything even after seeing him act his worst? He is no kind, gentle Baldur from Norse myth. And unlike Baldur, he didn't inhabit a fictional, perfect world like Breidablik. 

In the real world, you fight tooth and nail for your dreams, chasing a reckless pursuit that you can almost taste but never quite reach. You could die with no one to have your back—not friends, fathers, mothers, or brothers.

“Are you having fun? Are you having a pleasant time?”

If she were to ask that now, he’d answer: “Does it really matter?”

She wore the same white one-piece dress beneath a lavender cardigan that she had on when they first met. 

From that encounter, Sasuke had learned two things: first, Hinata Hyuuga was hauntingly beautiful in the rain.

“My lord! My lord!”

She chased him desperately through the crowd, losing her umbrella as she fought to catch up. He didn’t stop or even glance back.

“My lord!”

She caught his sleeve.

Sasuke stared at her, puzzled. Who calls out to anyone like that in this day and age? He glanced around, half-expecting to see a period drama crew, as she looked like she belonged on a film set. Then she smiled—this petite, otherworldly girl—and the dark chasm in his heart stirred, causing a shift. 

Without warning, she swooped in and embraced him, rendering him immobile, his mind all white noise and void of thought.

With much affection, she looked up to him, her face wet with rain, her hair damp and her white dress clinging to her skin. 

“Dearest, I found you.”

Second, Sasuke discovered that a pathetic weakness residing in him quivered at her tender voice calling him “dearest”. 

It revealed his hideous desire to be found. Like waiting for pure light to come in the midst of an expanse cold, spacious, severe, pale, and remote. Like a castaway that had swam for miles and hours, struck with the singular desire of laying eyes on that shore and just finally, finally resting there. 

But he was just a young man in the world, and as any human, he was bound to be skeptical. Who else would so freely offer affection on the side of the road if not one of those girls who made a living by sleeping around?

Sasuke pushed her away. “Try someone else,” he said. “I’m in a really bad mood.” The girl, visibly perplexed by this action, fainted. 

“Hey.” Sasuke shook her urgently. “Hey!”

Her shoulders felt awfully frail against his grasp as she stayed limp in his arms almost as if even the raindrops could bruise her collarbones. 

When he took her to the hospital, they were unable to find any ID on her, so Sasuke left his number, hoping to be contacted if she regained consciousness. The next day, he learned she was awake, but she had already gone home by the time he arrived.

Since then, she never left his mind. He marveled at how a mere stranger could affect him so intensely, even though he had just broken up with Sakura. When he and Sakura got back together, it became clear to Sasuke that if he ever encountered that girl again, he would have to conquer the part of him that had almost yielded to her.

Then, as if a temptation of fate, she walked into their classroom, clad in the school uniform, and introduced herself as the new transfer student.

“I’m Hinata Hyuuga. Seventeen. Nice to meet you all.”

After taking a bow, her gaze swept across the room and landed on him. Sasuke wondered if she had come to save him—and if she could. go to Chapter List>

[daifukumochiin]

"Help me and my family escape this raging war in order to survive."

My name is Eyad Sami.

I have been married to Amal Mahmoud for thirteen years, and we have four children: Sami, Mohammad, Sarah, and Saad. We are from Palestine, specifically the Gaza Strip, which has been under siege for over eighteen years.

Now, we no longer have a home, and my family lives in a refugee school in the Al-Zaytoun area of northern Gaza, while I live in a tent in Deir al-Balah. I haven't seen my children or my wife for over eight months. My children and wife are suffering from continuous bombing, lack of resources to live in peace, and a shortage of food and water. Here, I am enduring severe psychological and physical pressures due to my inability to be with them and meet their needs.

I ask anyone who reads my story to look upon us with compassion and help me raise even a small amount of money so that we can leave this country and find a safe place to live. We seek a country that offers us safety and a decent life, far from wars, genocide, and lack of security. We need shelter, food, water, education, and healthcare for me and my family.

My previous account was verified by many people, but unfortunately, it was banned, and I had to create a new account. Please share my new account and help my family reach a larger audience for support and assistance.

🙏🙏

Thank you

🌹🕊️🕊️🌹

My account vetted by @90-ghost

and vetted by

@northgazaupdates

Link vetted

[daifukumochiin]

@staff There’s no way to report stuff like this. Maybe it’s time for a bit of an update don’t you think?😫🫶🏻✨ Look at it. What did the AI even do? That’s just reathahorvitz1987blog essentially reposting and then claiming the art as theirs.

Thank you @overflowingbuckethat for bringing this to my attention.

@/reathahorvitz1987blog took my Ghost Face art through an AI generator and posted it on their account (also using the same tags I used for some reason). Their account is full of AI generated images that I assume are also taken from other artists.

I’d just like to make this be known through this post: Please don’t use my work for AI and please credit me and my work properly. This is basic courtesy for all artists.

[daifukumochiin]

Summary: Sasuke's orderly life at elite Sairiumu Academy is disrupted by the arrival of Hinata, a timid transfer student whose obvious crush on him, a young man dedicated to his craft and his current relationship, stirs unease. (Initial SasuSaku with SasuHina endgame, modern Norse myth AU, high school, angst, romance, photography, postmodern-ish fic). Rated T

LIGHTS,

BOWS, and

MISTLETOES

an entry for SasuHina Month 2024, Day 27 : Forget and Remember

(for peachy-hina, since December)

ffnet: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/14369143/1/Lights-Bows-and-Mistletoes

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57030778

Part 1: Lights

go to Chapter List>

viii

Northernness. 

In Surprised by Joy, C.S. Lewis called that instant among a few which he met while reading the opening lines to "Tegner’s Drapa"–

–immediately lifting him into huge regions of the northern sky, and desiring intensely something that couldn’t be described, “except that it is cold, spacious, severe, pale, and remote.”

Sasuke had it all figured out during his presentation: the longing for an unattainable, imaginary world; an unsatisfied desire more desirable than any other satisfaction. The “cold, spacious, severe, pale, and remote” in Konoha. He had the color schemes prepared, the mood boards where the rest could take inspiration—he had the full vision.

But, a thing about artistic vision is how it would often only truly show itself in the mind of one, akin to a prophet's commission destined to be shared with a skeptical crowd. Once the candle is lit—the vision spoken, its flame cast upon awaiting wicks—is either one of two outcomes: an empowered mob, or a frustrated artist.

Sasuke stood in the darkened room, the glow of his presentation casting long shadows between him and the rest of the club. The pause hung heavy in the air, their bleary irises reflecting the projected screen, dull and unmoved. He burned with a fierce, solitary flame, yet the rest couldn’t catch fire.

Unease settled at the basement of his gut, lounging there, and crossed its legs. His fingers, clutching the wireless clicker, felt cold and alien, as if they no longer belonged to him. He loosened his tie and signaled for the lights to be switched back on.

“Questions?” Sasuke reached for his water flask. Funny, he thought as he took a sip, how it gave an impression of offering himself to a hoard of wild beasts ready to pounce without due reverence whatsoever. 

Click. Click. Click—their responses registered as a monotonous clicking noise in his mind; all clicks and no illumination. Barely a single one had lights flashing off in their imagination, their cranial apertures set to f/22 with shutter speeds at 1/1000, and their ISO sensitivity low. 

He took a breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. Creation is a brutal endeavor: fail to hold the fort—the sense of preservation toward the vision—and he’ll be torn to pieces; fall short of winning the Kage Jin and it would be his fall to take alone. 

"Fine," he exhaled. "I'll take you on. One. By. One." 

In the months that would follow, he’d find himself worn thin, hunched over his desk, eyes bloodshot and fingers sore from endless editing as he pushed forward with the vision singularly, just to fill in the gaps, and somewhere down that road, his natural demise. But even then, all he could really think about was winning the Kage Jin.

Last weekend, my friends and I couldn't enjoy our usual club because the DJ changed, and the vibe was off. We went bar hopping all night, but none of the places felt right. Is that it?

“Somewhat.” 

So-so. Kinda. 

At first, Sasuke had more patience. 

Who could blame Sasuke's club members for all their privilege? Northernness to Sasuke lies on the other side of the fence that is winning the Kage Jin whereas to them, photography is just a hobby and the club is for extracurricular credits. They didn’t have fathers who threatened to disown them or shatter their equipment should they choose to pursue photography professionally after high school. 

“How’s everything so far?” Neji asked during brunch at the school’s dining hall. His uni exams weren't until November, so Sasuke understood that when he was invited to join Neji for meals, it was purely a club matter.

“The theme was decided last week,” Sasuke replied, forking a pea.

“Oh, really? What is it?”

“Northernness. C.S. Lewis…” As he spoke, he closely watched Neji’s subtle reactions.

Neji paused from slicing his steak, considering. “Interesting. Though spare me the details. The theme is only as strong as its execution.”

Sasuke nodded. “We’ve had a few meetings since then and I’ve already set up teams for various assignments.”

“Good,” commended Neji. “I was introduced to a gallery chain owner from Hoshigakure the other day. I think he’ll find you interesting, so I’ve set up a meeting this weekend.”

“What time?”

“Sunday afternoon. Just clear it out. It’s a party attended by other patrons of art. Get Sakura to join you.”

“I think she’ll be busy with the Student Council.”

“I’ll just call you then.”

When he had been at the end of his rope, it was Neji who offered an extension. Parties and meeting new people were his least favorite things to do on a weekend, but Neji taught him networking was important if he were to make his future decisions right.

2. Isn't it too vague? How are we gonna incorporate pictures from the archives if you're hellbent on following a theme?

Sasuke carefully laid with gloved hands a set of old pictures that he had taken out from the archives on the light table where a few selected members gathered around.

“I’m thinking of a sub-collection that draws inspiration from these events,” said Sasuke. “The history, the pioneering spirit, a deep-seated longing for the extraordinary, and the pursuit of awe and wonder transcending the mundane—we’re bringing these essences into the present.”

“But how are we supposed to do that without just copying old pictures?” asked Kiba, a sophomore from another class.

Sasuke’s eyes narrowed slightly. “We’re not copying. We’re reinterpreting. Look”—he tapped his finger on a photo—“What’s being built here?”

“The subway?”

“Ah, is that the Hashirama Bridge?!” Another member, Ino, pointed gleefully at a different photo.

The rest followed her excitement as they identified other notable structures in Metro Konoha during their earliest stages. 

“Think about the vision and effort that went into these structures,” said Sasuke. “Find modern equivalents or create scenes that evoke the same sense of achievement and significance. Reign in that energy visually.”

Then Kiba raised his hand. “The city’s expanding the subway and construction is currently going on. That might be a good place to start. The only problem we’d have is if it’s gonna be okay. Some places might need permits or things like that.”

“Leave that to me,” replied Sasuke. “I’ll contact Neji whenever.”

Days later Neji invited him again to brunch.

“The assignment you gave Inuzuka and his team was interesting. When I told grandfather, he insisted he’d have more stories to tell about how things were back then.” Neji chuckled and wiped his mouth with a table napkin.

Sasuke couldn’t swallow the partridge, so he had to down it with water first. “About that… I’ve decided I won’t be using their shots.”

“I see,” said Neji. “It was that bad, huh?”

“Well… not really.”

“Just say it as is. No one’s gonna hear about it. And I doubt anyone would fault you even if they did. You’re aiming to win, aren't you?”

3. So… wintry vibes? How the heck does that work? Konoha's vibe is just not it.

There are plenty of ways to capture the cold and remote right out the warm, sunny corners of Metro Konoha: early mornings; late nights; foggy mists; the bay after rainy afternoons; excerpts of nostalgia that could be replicated in the studio, and the lights manipulated among a plethora of non-CGI tools they could use for effects.

Determined to prove his point to the rest of the cynical lot, he rode the train to school at 4:30 AM and scoured the campus for interesting shots. Looking up from the school grounds, the silhouette of birds flitting among the intricate details of the roofline, gave him the idea to venture up to the school rooftop for a closer look.

He passed through Omni Glow Hall, one of Sairiumu’s oldest buildings, up a flight of stairs, and entered a dim, musty corridor lined with aged wood and old leather book covers. The air ran thick with the stench of persistent grime that no amount of upkeep could completely remove. To get to the rooftop, he pushed through an ancient twin door, gripping slightly on the coarse brass handles with grotesques set on their swirled parts. Despite their age and infrequent use, the well-oiled hinges moved smoothly. A gust of wind greeted Sasuke's face, followed by the sound of flapping wings, a sound one too many. He nearly snapped a photo by what he saw, his breath caught and his forefinger twitching on the shutter button, overwhelmed by the impulse to capture the scene and yet withholding from that desire.

Hinata Hyuuga stood on the rooftop with a lost look in her eyes, her hand extended as mourning doves gathered to feed from it. They surrounded her, from her head to foot—a swirling flock—which, while to an onlooker might seem ominous, a whirlpool of unknown diseases, didn't trouble her—not even batting an eyelash.

When she noticed Sasuke standing there, her eyes widened slightly before she quickly lowered her gaze, a soft blush tinting her cheeks. Her fingers trembled just a bit as she tried to keep her hand steady for the doves.

“G-good morning…” she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. As she made a small, nervous bow with her head, the doves fluttered briefly and then perched back not long after.

“Good morning,” he replied with measured calm. He wasn't about to be found out. Some guilt; partly something else.

“What are you doing here?”

“Just looking around." He slipped his hands into his pockets and let his gaze drift to a random spot in the skyline. "What about you?”

“Feeding the birds… as you can see.”

“Right… Do you mind if I take a picture?”

“O-of the birds?” The sun was barely out and he could hardly see the expression she was making.

“Of the birds.”

“Oh. Go ahead… They're too occupied to care.”

Sasuke clicked the camera. Adjusted the center. Clicked again. Adjusted. Clicked a third time. True to Hinata’s words, the birds remained unbothered, even with the flash.

While scanning the shots he took, he said out of nowhere: “Thanks to the Norse myth book you left the other day, I’ve figured out what the club’s going to do for this year’s Inuwashi.”

“Inuwashi?”

“The club’s yearly publication. It's a candidate for the Kage-Jin—”

Sasuke fell silent for a moment, leaving Hinata waiting for him to continue. He wondered what she thought about the theme, about Northernness. If she would intuitively comprehend what he wanted; if she'd asked the right questions; if her pictures would enthrall him unexpectedly like her qualifying exhibition entry...

When he didn’t speak, Hinata asked, “Do you like it here? Are you having a pleasant time?"

Sasuke snapped out of his trance and took a few more shots, adjusting the camera settings with a practiced hand. “About the club or Sairiumu in general? I haven’t thought about it. Don’t ask weird questions.” As he spoke, he tilted the camera slightly, capturing a subtle glimpse of the top of Hinata’s head in the shot.

“Stay away from mistletoes,” she said.

Sasuke raised a brow at her odd statement. “What about them?”

“They’re bad for you.”

Sasuke smirked. No wonder Neji said all those things about her—he finally understood: she's a Norse myth otaku. This explains the disturbing things she had said and done to him so far. A tinge of relief swept over him now knowing that she's just this kind of crazy, who just thought that maybe, maybe he's—

“Like Baldur?" He could almost laugh, but he couldn't risk looking uncool. "Getting too much into Norse myth is bad for you,” he said, smiling crookedly as he turned to leave.

Hardly anything about him is like Baldur.

4. C.S. Lewis? Wasn’t he prehistoric? Wouldn’t that be too outdated and out of touch?

She’s just… She’s just so,

Has anyone in the studio met someone like her before?

Who in their right mind would think that? Norse myth? And they say C.S. Lewis is prehistoric.

While it couldn’t be denied that he has a beautiful face and a goodly overall appearance—which brought him trouble that could last a lifetime—but, had he been anything like Baldur—the Norse god of light and radiance, joy and purity, peace and forgiveness—he would've just dismissed the uninspiring submissions of his club members with a smile. He'd put in a kind word and tell them to try again. 

But Sasuke? He huffed and bristled like a mad horse and his dissatisfaction towards his members only grew.

“I apologize for that. You caught me at a bad time.” Sasuke rubbed his forehead, feeling the tension building up. One of the very few freshmen he had allowed to work on Inuwashi was just leaving his office in tears when Neji walked in.

Neji watched the freshman leave. “What happened?” He locked the door behind him.

Sasuke sighed, leaning back in his chair. “I tried to be constructive, but...”

“But it had been another subpar submission.” Neji nodded understandingly. “Don’t take it to heart. I trust I placed the perfect man for the job. You’ll make it happen for this club. They don’t have to understand now, but they will when the time comes and you’ve got a Kage Jin trophy displayed here…”

When Neji looked around his office, his gaze stopped at the framed picture of a quarter of a head and mourning doves above it hanging on the wall.

“Yours?” With Neji, it was almost a statement and he had to ask just in case.

Sasuke smirked and nodded, the event from earlier immediately forgotten.

“Fascinating.” Neji approached the picture to scrutinize it further. “I like the mysterious dark, inky shades, and gray contrasts, the almost smoky buildup of flapping mourning doves caught in a motion blur...” 

The picture never failed to draw compliments from visitors. Sasuke had developed a technique to achieve the quality of a traditional darkroom print out of a digital photo. So far, no one had asked about the head—whose head it was. Unconsciously, Sasuke made a habit of staring at her in a way that he couldn't in the classroom over fear of suspicion. The what-ifs and could-have-been left him with a continuous pang of regret and he feared the day that she might break into his office, perhaps through the glass window, open his chest, and discover the things he'd speak to no one: he couldn’t push away the thought that Hinata would have had more interest in Northernness than the rest of his club members put together. 

“Hey, do you think—” Sasuke paused.

Would Neji?

No, Neji would be strongly against it.

“What?”

“Nothing,” replied Sasuke.

“I never thought you’d find mourning doves interesting.”

“Me either.”

5. Are you saying we only start taking pictures in the winter? That's stupid and I'd totally hate it if we're shooting outdoors.

To set a wintry precedent, an atmosphere that would seal in the illusion for everything else that would follow, Sasuke proposed scheduling an outdoor shoot for the first few pages of Inuwashi. None of Konoha's mountains, not even in the winter, would compare to the snowy mountain ranges of the place he had in mind. 

"Yukigakure," he revealed. 

The idea was met with enthusiasm from the club members. They envisioned a cheerful trip to luxurious ski resorts and exclusive hot springs. Sasuke looked forward to the peril, to northern lights and white nights—something Hinata would've had better insights into, having come from there. But none of it would happen the way anyone in the Photography Club, including Sasuke, pictured it. 

6. Shouldn't we take a vote? I'm not saying 'Northernness' or whatever you just presented is a bad idea, but others might have suggestions that the majority would like to explore.

Morio, the vice president, posed a question during Sasuke’s theme presentation that echoed until the Photography Club’s falling out. But Sasuke didn’t have the foresight then. All he recognized was that Morio had the wrong notion about why Neji chose him, why Northernness would make Inuwashi stand out, why he was convinced he knew best, and thus answered Morio in this manner:

“Do you know why you’re not the club president? It’s because you don’t have what it takes to be where I am.”

Truth be told, Morio had always rubbed Sasuke the wrong way. As a member of the Student Council alongside Sakura and others, and with his family’s ownership of an S&Lee 500 mining corporation, Morio had the background and skills that made him a strong diplomat. This greatly contrasted with Sasuke’s solitary approach. He was a competent photographer and had a knack for connecting with others, making him a strong candidate for club president if it had been up to the members’ vote. In contrast, Sasuke preferred to stay cooped up in his office, often discarding other people's photos that he didn’t like in the bin.

Morio had all the right cards. The least Sasuke could have done was temper his response. No egos would have been bruised, and he might have avoided much trouble. Because, months later, when the time came for the review of the first draft of Inuwashi, Morio voiced out an honest observation:

“Most of these pictures are yours, Sasuke.”

“It’s the material that matters," Sasuke retorted. "You can’t argue with the quality. This is a winning piece in progress.”

Morio laughed dismissively. “You’re not running a club. This is a one-man show.”

Sasuke’s temper flared, and he slammed his fist on the table. "Don’t like it? Then leave. This is getting old."

He should've noticed it then—the odd spill of malice in the studio; how nobody was on his side.

“Guess we just don’t have that special something like you do,” Morio said with a suspiciously casual tone. As he rose from his seat to leave, more movement rippled around the table, and Sasuke watched in shock as his core members began to slip away, one by one.

He stewed over the betrayal all evening. If his former team members chose not to return, perhaps he never needed them. The new recruits, though still green and needing more training, could take over the simpler tasks. Besides, there was no rule in the Kage Jin’s guidelines explicitly stipulating that contributions had to come from multiple people. If it came down to it, Sasuke would manage on his own.

The following day, Sasuke arrived at the studio to find all his files and work in progress wiped out from his office computer, his cloud access hacked, and all saved progress vanished. Fortunately, Sasuke had learned to take basic precautions early on. He backed up his work and club files on an external drive he carried to school, and on a second drive he updated regularly from his home PC.

There was no doubt to Sasuke about who was behind the sabotage. When he spotted Morio talking to the girls in the classroom, his rage flared beyond control. Eyes darkened by anger, Sasuke lunged at him, gripping his collar, and delivered a swift, decisive punch to his jaw—all in front of Hinata. The shock on her face briefly registered at the back of his mind, slicing through his anger like a shard of ice. 

He clenched his jaw, feeling the sting of the aftermath on his knuckles.

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[daifukumochiin]

Hi! Love your stories, but did you remove your fics from ffnet?

Yes, I did.

I haven't uploaded to my ff.net account in over a year, anyway. All my new work went on to my AO3.

Don't worry. They are not gone. They are just on my AO3 Account.

I have locked them to restricted users after there were some bot/AI scrapper issues recently.

[daifukumochiin]

Yay! Thank you for waiting Peachy-hina🙈 I had some rework done from the draft you saw last December, and the latest chapter I've uploaded is the second to the last chapter of Part 1. I've only intended to write short chapters coz but see how it turned out. It grown into a 7k+ words of build up😆 Since the next chapter is the last one for Part 1, I will finally reveal what happened at Hashirama's Bridge. Please look forward to it😽😗🙌

LIGHTS,

BOWS, and

MISTLETOES

|CHAPTER LIST|

Summary: Sasuke's orderly life at elite Sairiumu Academy is disrupted by the arrival of Hinata, a timid transfer student whose obvious crush on him, a young man dedicated to his craft and his current relationship, stirs unease. (Initial SasuSaku with SasuHina endgame, modern Norse myth AU, high school, angst, romance, photography). Rated T @sasuhinamonth

🟢 Part 1: Lights

i ii iii iv v vi 🟢 Part 2: Bows 🟢 Part 3: Mistletoes

ffnet: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/14369143/1/Lights-Bows-and-Mistletoes

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57030778

[daifukumochiin]

Summary: Sasuke's orderly life at elite Sairiumu Academy is disrupted by the arrival of Hinata, a timid transfer student whose obvious crush on him, a young man dedicated to his craft and his current relationship, stirs unease. (Initial SasuSaku with SasuHina endgame, modern Norse myth AU, high school, angst, romance, photography, postmodern-ish fic). Rated T

LIGHTS,

BOWS, and

MISTLETOES

an entry for SasuHina Month 2024, Day 27 : Forget and Remember

(for peachy-hina, since December)

@sasuhinamonth

ffnet: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/14369143/1/Lights-Bows-and-Mistletoes

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57030778

Part 1: Lights

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vii

As it turned out, there weren't many Hyuuga families in Metro Konoha including Neji's family of three, formed from the union of a self-made millionaire and the scion of the long-term mayor of Metro Konoha. As a result, the private investigator Sasuke had hired had managed to call back earlier than expected.

"She's not listed under any Hyuuga family here," said the PI, handing Sasuke the files.

The office reeked of cigarettes. Every so often, the door would open, making the bell ring, and a sheepdog would wander in. Sasuke had never hired a private investigator before—this was more up his brother's alley—which made him anxious, knowing that anyone he knew could easily walk into this office and pry into his business.

"Do you mind?" Sasuke gestured to the door.

The PI waved his hand indicating he was free to do so, and Sasuke quickly locked it.

When he returned to the report, Sasuke's mind raced as he scanned the PI's findings. A mix of frustration and curiosity gnawed at him. "What could this mean?"

"Hyuuga is not a common name around here. She must've hailed from somewhere else, another country perhaps—"

"Can you check immigration records?"

"Sure, but it'll cost extra."

Sasuke clicked his tongue in scorn. He'd rather spend it on software or equipment.

"Rich kid like you, why so stingy?" The PI laughed.

"Rich." Sasuke snorted. "Just my old folks."

"Sounds the same to me."

"Is that really the only possibility? That she's here on a visa? But if that's the case, why is her family background confidential? Don't you think there could be other reasons?"

"People can come up with all sorts of things. In one of my past cases, a woman discovered that the lady applying to be her son's babysitter was her husband's illegitimate daughter. At first, when we started digging, we found out she wasn't listed in any family registry. The wife had only gotten suspicious in the first place because the girl had a port wine stain on her forehead that looked just like her husband's. So, we sent in DNA samples. Turned out, she was right.

"Now, in this Hyuuga girl's case, she's studying at Sairiumu and renting an apartment at Hashirama Park for 500,000 ryo a year, all paid in cash. It could be that she got this far with missing documents because Dad—or whoever—could pull the necessary strings. Just not any unsavory gossip that could hurt their reputation. That sort of thing…"

Sasuke stood abruptly, his chair creaking. Goosebumps covered his arms. That must be it. Hinata Hyuuga was a hidden mistress's daughter. No wonder Neji seemed appalled.

"But these are just theories," the PI added, lighting another cigarette. "The truth could be a whole lot different once we try to find out."

Sasuke covered his nose. "I've heard enough."

In the wake of this conclusion, Sasuke felt it justified when the results of the qualifying exhibition came out with no mention of Hinata Hyuuga. Whispers circulated among the recruitment committee about how entry number sixty-seven could have fallen short of the top fifty despite its popularity during the exhibit. But that was all. No complaint has been filed by Hinata either.

It wasn't until Sasuke saw the two together that the intricacies of the truth about their situation truly hit him.

The school had already quieted then, with only a few stragglers lingering as the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the empty pathways. After returning some books to the library, Sasuke circled to the back of the building to take a shortcut to the studio when he heard a familiar voice—Neji's—talking to someone by the plaza with the antique bronze drinking fountain. Curiosity drew him closer. He peered from behind a cypress and realized that the other person had been Hinata.

"Didn't I tell you? There's no place for you here. Go back to Yukigakure—"

Hinata kept her head down, her eyes glued to the granite pavers, silent.

"—Or would you rather I tell the school head how you're actually psychologically ill? You think I can’t see through you? You're not here for school or the photography club. You're here because of Sasuke—leave him alone. Drink your meds and don't leave your room until you start thinking straight. He's not who you think he is, and you're not who you think you are."

Frustrated that Hinata hadn't responded, not with even as much as a glare, Neji spun away with an offended huff and strode off. When Hinata lifted her head, tears dripped down her cheeks, and just as silently as they fell, she tried to wipe them out of her eyes. But they only kept coming, the devastation in her war-torn expression not making a sound. The layers of grief that she tossed with a look to the sky budded only to die at her feet.

For some reason, Sasuke felt cemented to the grass and couldn't walk away pretending that he heard and saw nothing.

So, the day after, when it happened that their paths crossed, that their gazes met—when she made a slight bow and timidly carried on with her pace—Sasuke made a decision. With jaws set and hands balled tight, he called:

"Wait."

Hinata stopped.

"I liked your entry," he said.

Her mouth stayed half-open—it didn't immediately register, it seemed. Gradually, as it did, her eyes widened, her face lit aglow. Her unassuming reaction to just a few simple words caught him stunned and faltering. He glanced elsewhere, his ears burning, his heart pounding loudly.

"Don't stop taking pictures," he urged after clearing his throat, though what he wanted to say was: I think you have something special.

If only their start hadn't been that time at Hashirama's bridge and her stalking, perhaps he would've been interested in working with her.

When he arrived at his office, on his desk was a book that didn't belong to him nor had he borrowed a copy from the library: The Poetic Edda by Jeramy Dodds.

He searched the front and back covers and the edges for any identification to no avail. One of the pages had been dog-eared, and when he opened it, a wild chamomile flower fell off. Highlighted in yellow on the page was the passage:

As though a switch had been turned on, the words transported him back to his research for the qualifying exhibition the previous year, bringing to the fore in vivid recall Longfellow's "Tegner's Drapa" and the bits he'd read off C.S. Lewis's Surprised by Joy; a memory that worked like his would store anything that caught his eye like clockwork, categorized and filed away until he'd found some use.

Line by line, the words connected, popping off; images formed like ant trails in his mind. Realization surged within him like lightning coursing down his veins, gathering into his trembling fists, fingers squeezed near breaking point. Having maxed out all charge storage capacity, he screamed muted air out, emptying his lungs.

He finally found the theme.

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