#keeping the kyuubi's chakra in check all day!! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jjgrace42 · 3 years ago

Text

Samsaric - Chapter 8

Read on AO3

First Chapter — Previous Chapter — Next Chapter

Excogitate

[Excogitate - verb 1: to think out, devise, or invent 2: to study intently and carefully in order to grasp or comprehend fully]

By the time Bekko had called for the match to stop, I had already done far too much damage.

“Matte!”

“I’m sorry, Shino-kun! Hold still. Hold still!” I put my hands on his shoulders to stop his pained writhing so that I could get a good look at the injury I’d inflicted. “Oh, Kami. I’m sorry. Alright, don’t move for a—“

“Uzumaki! Move away from your classmate. You’ve done more than enough damage!” Tough, beefy fingers gripped my shoulder hard enough to bruise and threw me back. A yelp tore itself from my throat and I scrambled to my feet. Bekko knelt over Shino as the boy whined, his arm bent at an angle that it really shouldn’t be going. “Shit. Uzumaki! Get your ass inside! This cost you twenty points! You’re to remain inside and you have an hour detention after class is over!”

I stared, my hands jerking so nervously that I had to shove them into my pockets to suffocate the echo of Shino’s arm breaking beneath my fingers. But then Bekko snapped at me again and I nodded, turning and moving inside. Just before the door closed behind me, I heard him yelling for Sasuke to go to the front of the building and ask for help from one of the chunin. The entrance clicked closed behind me and I forced myself to take a shaky breath.

Good job.

I twisted my lips at the convoluted mixture of pride and disgust in his voice. I didn’t mean to. I just . . . didn’t mean to. I pressed my lips together and swallowed in a poor attempt to regain the ability to breathe properly. I’ll have to make it up to him. Fuck! I was supposed to become friends with him, not break his bones!

Get over yourself. So you managed to damage a pathetic little human. Big deal.

Shut up. I shoved myself off the wall and then made my way back to the classroom. “It’ll probably take a while for them to finish,” I murmured aloud to myself in the empty room as I closed the door. A glance at the clock told me that there was still almost an hour and a half left of the Academy for the day. “Might as well get some personal training in. I think I’m almost ready to start Level 1 fuuinjutsu training.” With that said, I sat at my desk and dug out my sealing scroll. A simple burst of my chakra was all that was needed to unseal my fuuinjutsu supplies across the table. As I began practicing seal quadrants in my notebook, Kurama rumbled with displeasure in the back of my head.

Wrong.

I paused, gaze flicking across the work I’d just done. The Kyuubi had a habit of occasionally pointing out mistakes I made when studying seal work. The most of an explanation I had gotten for why a chakra demon knew so much about a human form of written jutsu was that he had been contained by Uzumaki before. And if my clan was known for anything, they were known for fuuinjutsu.

What is it? What did I do wrong?

Check your balancing in the third and fourth quadrants.

I dragged my gaze over the seal. I don’t . . . . Oh. I repeated the directional sequence and that would cause a doubling effect and destabilize the seal, right?

The door opened and chattering flooded the room. “Rai!” Naruto scrambled up the stairs and threw himself against my side. “Are you okay?”

I laughed and curled my arm around him. “Of course I’m okay. It’s Shino I’m worried about.”

“What was that, Mirai?” a smaller voice asked. I glanced up to find Sasuke standing just by our row. “You . . . didn’t seem like you for a second.”

“I got . . . distracted,” I answered, trying to be reassuring and knowing I was failing. “It won’t happen again.” I reached out and ruffled Sasuke’s hair.

“Remind me not to get on your bad side,” Shikamaru mumbled, climbing into his seat.

I glanced back at him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—“

“Attention, please!” Bekko called. “Uzumaki, you’ve done enough damage today. Please keep your hands off my students."

I turned back around and met his gaze. What are you going to do? the Kyuubi asked, voice echoing in the back of my head. Show your throat and he’ll bite it. Choose carefully.

Show my . . . . Oh. I swallowed, understanding exactly what Kurama was trying to say. I smiled thinly at our sensei. “Oh, my apologies. I’ll be sure to give you my full attention. After all, I need you to teach me how to be a shinobi, don’t I?”

His expression didn’t change, but it did manage to gain a chillier aura. “I would appreciate it if you would be quiet.”

“I’m sure you would.” I scooted my chair forward and let Sasuke by.

Bekko’s jaw tightened. “I would like everyone to gather up their things. You are dismissed for the day. Uzumaki, stay for your detention.”

Naruto glanced at me. “Rai?”

I smiled and reached down, collecting his things into his bag. “Go with Sasuke-kun, okay? I have some training to do after school. I’ll be there to pick you up no later than nine, alright, sweetheart? I’ll see you later.” I glanced at Sasuke as he joined my brother in the aisle. “You too.” I held Naruto’s bag out for him.

The two of them nodded and scrambled down the stairs. I nodded to Shikamaru and Choji as they passed. Then I turned my attention to the chunin that was moving to stand in front of my desk. As the door closed behind my last classmate he dropped a stack of paper in front of me. “Let me know when you finish all of this, Uzumaki.” Then he moved back towards the front of the room.

I pulled the papers towards me, picked up my pen, and began reading.

Two boats on opposite banks of a river start moving towards each other. They first pass each other 1400 meters from one bank. They each continue to the opposite bank, immediately turn around and start back to the other bank. When they pass each other a second time, they are 600 meters from the other bank. We assume that each boat travels at a constant speed all along the journey. Find the width of the river?

I glanced over the problem again. Of course. No six-year-old would be able to do it, though maybe that was the point. I looked up at Bekko and he offered me a thin-lipped smile. I smiled in return and then began sketching out the problem.

— — — — —

“Tonbo-san?” I stopped at the edge of the training ground. “Konichiwa.”

He turned his bandaged head towards me and nodded. “Uzumaki-san. I’m glad to see that you made it. We’ll begin by training your chakra sensitivity.” He tapped his foot against the ground where he was standing in the center of the clearing. “Stand here and put on this blindfold. I will go to another part of the training ground and raise my chakra slowly. As soon as you can, identify where I am. Understand?”

I took the cloth, rubbing my fingers across the rough material. “Got it.” As I tied the blindfold on, I turned my attention to Kurama. Any tips?

Chakra sensing is not an active skill. It’s passive. Relate it more to your meditation than physical exercise. To be a proper sensor, you’ll have to learn to keep a level head, even in battle. Relaxation is the key.

I wrinkled my nose against the thick blindfold. Wow. That was . . . actually help—

“Begin.”

I straightened and furrowed my brow, searching for—

Fool. Did you not listen to a word I said?

Oops. I let my shoulders relax, though I kept my defensive posture. I took a deep breath and simply was. Something sparked to my left. I whirled towards it, arm coming up to point. It was the familiar chill that I associated with the man. I must have gotten it right because it disappeared and reappeared behind me. Four positions later, the energy source disappeared again. This time, however, I didn’t feel it reappear immediately.

I took a deep breath and blew it out through my nose. Something cold shivered to my left, quieter than before. I pointed.

Sense. Pivot. Point.

“Good job. I wasn’t expecting improvement on our test, let alone to this level.”

I reached up and untied my blindfold. “That was good?”

He hummed in response. “Do you meditate often?”

“I do.”

“That would be why, then. Let’s exercise your reflexes.”

I handed the blindfold back and settled into my stance. “So why are reflexes considered something you specialize in?”

He tilted his head to the side. “You will have to react quickly upon sensing chakra. Chakra sensing and lightning reflexes make for an excellent solo shinobi.”

“How so?”

“Think about it.” He began moving away from me again. “For instance, light bombs are a good choice. Blind the enemy. Unlike them, you can fight without sight and take them down before they can see again.”

“Oh.” I nodded. “Makes sense.”

“Good. Begin.”

The air whistled and the first smooth rock snapped against my cheek. I bit down on my exclamation of pain before it could escape. I ducked the next strike.

Remain level headed in battle. Learn it now so you don’t have to do monotonous re-training later. I thought you could use the reminder since you flesh bags seem so poorly equipped for learning.

Kurama’s voice made me fumble my next dodge and I hissed through my teeth as pain stung my elbow. He was right, though. Thanks.

Another deep breath and I rolled to the side to avoid the barrage of an entire handful of stones. My foot slipped awkwardly against the grass and I felt the muscles in my ankle pull. It jerked my head to the side and the air whipped right by my ear as I barely avoided the stone. But when the next rock found its mark, I felt my heart rate jump wildly again.

I stepped backwards and took another deep breath. I needed something to focus on, something to keep my attention from wandering and my anxiety from skyrocketing. I breathed in deeply through my nose, crouching to avoid another hit. The chill of Tonbo’s chakra washed over me like an ice bath and I rolled to the side. My own energy hummed contentedly beneath my skin, soothing my nerves as I dodged yet again.

“Good job,” Tonbo murmured, lowering his hand. “We’re going to do some chakra exercises. The more aware of your own energy you are, the better your sensing abilities will be.” He held up a rock the size of his fist. “You’re going to learn how to pick this up with only your chakra.”

— — — — —

I spat the foul slime from my mouth, coughing. Gross. What is that? I don’t think that was blood. I dragging my wrist over my mouth and grimaced at the giant caterpillar lying dead at my feet.

That’s poison.

“Wh— Oh, gross! That’s even worse!” I spat again, trying to make sure I didn’t swallow any, as I fumbled for my canteen. I swished water around in my mouth and then spat it out. I’m not gonna die now, right?

You didn’t ingest it and none of it made it to your bloodstream. You’ll be fine. Besides, with me and your Uzumaki genes, you have more of a tolerance for poisons.

I kicked the creature aside, feeling my shoulders sag with tiredness. I glanced up at the darkening sky past the tree tops. “It’s getting late,” I murmured to myself. Then I readjusted my backpack, cleaned the blood off my kunai by wiping it on my pants, and slipped the weapon back into its pouch. Making it back to the fence was easy, though climbing over the tall structure was a little more tiring than it was when I’d done it over an hour before.

I let my feet take me in the direction I knew was towards the Uchiha Compound. Rubbing my eyes, I yawned. It wasn’t even nine yet and I was already exhausted. The day had really taken a lot out of me. If I had wondered at all if my introverted tendencies had followed me into this life, I didn’t have to wonder any more. Meeting all these new people had drained me more than my hour in Training Ground 44.

Energy began pricking at my skin when I entered the compound, heading straight for the Clan Head’s house. I knocked and waited, suppressing a desperate yawn. The door slid aside and I heard Shisui before I saw him completely.

“Naruto and Sasuke are having mochi. You can come in and— What the hell happened to you?”

I blinked and glanced down at myself. Bruises stained my visible skin, though I knew they would be gone by morning, and blood was smeared across my clothes. I guess I really didn’t look that great. “Uh, nothing much. Just training.”

“Just training,” he echoed back at me. “Why don’t I believe you?”

“I’m not sure. Can I come in?” I shoved my hands in my pockets, smiling up at him. The Uchiha eyed me for a moment before nodding and stepping aside. I stepped in through the doorway and then toed off my shoes. “Do you think we could come up with a time for you to teach me henge?” I asked, following him farther into the house.

“I would suggest now, but you look exhaus—“

“That works!” I interrupted with a grin, bouncing forward as we entered the kitchen. “Konichiwa, Nato, Sasuke-kun.” I knew I should probably wash my hands first, but the mochi looked too good to resist. I leaned over and selected one, popping it into my mouth.

“Hi, Rai!” Naruto greeted. “Teme and I played Ninja and we watched Itachi and Shisui spar and then I helped Teme’s mom make—“

I laughed and leaned over, planting a kiss on Naruto’s forehead. “Hold on, and don’t forget to breathe. You can tell me all about it on our way home, okay?”

He seemed hesitant for a moment but then he nodded, content. I turned to face Shisui expectantly and he sighed, motioning to me as he headed into the main room. Itachi was sitting on the couch reading and he didn’t look up as we entered. “Good evening, Mirai-chan.”

“Good evening,” I greeted in return. Shisui sat down seiza in the middle of the room and I did the same.

“The seals for this jutsu are simple. Dog, boar, and then ram.” He showed me the signs as he said them. “The hardest part of this jutsu is actually in visualization. The signs guide the molding of the chakra, but you have to focus on what they’re molding it into. For example.” He flashed through the hand signs again and chakra seared against my system. “Henge.”

To my left, Itachi had lowered his book and was watching us. I frowned, studying the form Shisui had taken. “Kami, do I really look that beat up right now?” I asked, staring at the battered and bruised redhead he’d shifted into.

“Yes,” Itachi murmured. “You should probably be resting instead of training more.” He glanced a little too sharply at Shisui.

I ignored his last point. “Alright.” I closed my eyes to focus on the form I wanted. Blond hair, bright blue eyes, whisker marked cheeks the same as mine. I slowly formed the hand signs, feeling my boiling chakra drawing together. “Henge.” The molded chakra then just . . . vanished. I opened my eyes, frowning. “Wait, what—“

“That was way too much chakra for that technique,” Shisui said, back to normal. He shook his head and got to his feet. “But Tachi-chan’s right. You need to get some rest. Stop by later this week and I’ll help you out with your bo staff again, okay? I get back from my next mission Wednesday night.”

I sighed, climbing to my feet. “Alright.” I turned towards the kitchen.

“Oh, and Mirai?”

I glanced back.

“Don’t think I don’t want an explanation at one point about that poor Aburame kid, alright?”

I flushed. “Right.” Then I moved forward. “Nato, you ready to go?”

“Yep!” He jumped to his feet, snatching up his backpack, and followed me to the door. As we got our shoes on, he started babbling about their game of Ninja. I took his hand as we went outside and headed down the road. We were about halfway home when he switched to describing Shisui and Itachi’s spar. He stopped mid-description. “Rai?”

“Hmm? What is it, Nato?"

“I think Bekko-sensei hates us, dattebayo. I don’t like him. He’s really mean to you.” His fingers tightened around mine and he frowned. “He’s an ass.”

“Naruto!” I gasped, trying not to laugh. “Don’t use that word.”

“But it’s true!” he protested.

I sighed, grinning. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

— — — — —

“I brought some homemade onigiri if you’d like some,” I offered, holding up the open bento box. “I have konbu and ikura.”

Choji brightened. “Konbu, please.”

I smiled and picked one out, giving it to him. Then I glanced at Sasuke. “Do you want one?”

He shook his head. “Kaasan made me a big breakfast this morning. Thanks.”

I nodded and then turned my attention to the brunet who had finally made it up the stairs. “Konbu or ikura onigiri, Shikamaru-kun?”

The Nara yawned obnoxiously, slipping into his seat. Then he stared at me before dragging his gaze lazily to the bento box. “Ikura.” He said it as if that word alone took too much effort.

I handed him the food. “I brought a shogi board. We can play during lunch.” When he didn’t respond, I took that as agreement and smiled.

“Uzumaki, I would appreciate it if you would stop distracting your classmates.”

I felt my smile thin and I turned in my seat. “My apologies, Bekko-sensei. I’m paying attention, now.” I closed up my bento box and slipped it back into my bag. Then I made a show of folding my hands on the desk and leaning forward in rapt attention. His expression curled into a sneer and he turned away.

“Today we’ll begin unlocking your chakra.”

My hand shot up before I was even really able to think about it. His gaze snapped to me. “Bekko-sensei, I’ve already unlocked my chakra.”

He glanced across the other students and then his sharp stare narrowed in on me. “Then I’m sure you can keep yourself from distracting your classmates while they try to do the same.”

I arched an eyebrow and just offered him a thin smile. Then I crossed my legs and closed my eyes, choosing to work on my henge while he taught. I pinched off a small amount of chakra. Dog, boar, ram. Under my breath, I mumbled, “Henge.”

My chakra dissipated and I sighed. Too much. Resting my hands on my thighs, I took a deep breath and selected another small bit of chakra. Then I kept carefully shaving it down more and more. “Henge,” I murmured.

Nothing.

Again.

“Henge.”

Nothing.

Again.

“Henge.”

Nothing.

I grit my teeth and forced myself to relax. I pinched off a tiny amount of chakra in comparison to what I normally would grab. Dog, boar, ram. “Henge.” Instead of dissipating, my chakra held and I felt a shift along my skin. I had to suppress the odd shudder that itched along my spine.

“Whoa! Rai, that’s super cool!”

I opened my eyes and glanced down. Then I titled my head to the side, studying the new angle I had of Naruto’s body. “Huh.”

“Uzumaki.”

I glanced up to find Bekko watching me somewhat warily. “Yes, Sensei?” I asked, smiling sweetly and wondering if it looked the same as it did when Naruto smiled. It probably didn’t. Naruto always seemed to beam when he smiled and my own was nowhere near as warm or friendly as his.

“I said do not distract your classmates. Five points.”

With a sigh, I released the jutsu. That part was easy, since my hold had been slipping since the moment I’d started the technique. I pressed my lips together and glanced out the window. “Would I be allowed to work on my fuuinjutsu?”

“Distracting.”

“What can I do, then?”

“Sit there and be quiet so as not to impede the learning of your peers.” Then he returned to his lecture about the chakra pathways.

I bit my lip and Kurama sighed in the back of my mind. Whatever you’re thinking, it’s probably stupid and reckless.

You’d be for it, then?

Of course.

I reached down and double checked that all my things were in my bag. Then I got to my feet and tapped Naruto’s shoulder to get him to move forward. “Right,” I said with a sigh, slinging my bag over my shoulder and pushing in my chair. “I’ll be back later, then.” I started down the stairs.

“Where do you think you’re going, Uzumaki?”

“Out. You obviously don’t want me to do anything but stagnate, so I’m going to find something productive to do with my time.” I reached the door and turned to face him. “Take as many points away as you want. That’s obviously what you were trying to do anyway.” I slid open the door and then left it open behind me as I moved down the hall.

I had to grit my teeth as I left the building and felt Naruto’s chakra getting more and more distant. When his energy disappeared completely, I took a deep breath and focused on relaxing the tension from my shoulders as I turned towards my destination.

The guards looked up as I approached and the one on the left said, “Name and business.”

“Uzumaki Mirai.” I bowed respectfully. “I’m here to check in on Shino-kun’s health. I’m one of his classmates.”

The man stared at me for a moment and I wondered if all Aburame wore shades to hide their eyes from the rest of the world. But then he stepped forward and pushed open the gate for me. “Straight in. It’s the large house right ahead.”

“Thank you.” I stepped through the gates and glanced around the compound for a moment as I approached the front house. I jogged up the steps and then knocked politely on the doorframe.

After a few seconds, the door slide open and I found myself staring up at the man that could only be Shino’s father. “Can I help you?” the man asked flatly.

“I’m Uzumaki Mirai.” I bowed, hoping that maybe I wouldn’t see the disgust or disappointment that probably crossed his face. “I was wondering if I could check on Shino-kun’s health. And apologize for the accident yesterday.” When I straightened, I found that the man was watching me with something that might be able to be construed as amusement, but it was hard to tell past his sunglasses.

“Aburame Shibi,” he said in return, bowing his head. “And of course. Come inside.”

I stepped over the threshold and toed off my shoes, leaving them respectfully by the door. Then I followed the man down the hall and he stopped by another door. Shibi knocked. “Shino, you have a visitor.” Then he slid the door open and stepped aside. “Tea, Uzumaki-san?”

I looked up. “That would be nice. Arigato.” Then I stepped through the doorway into Shino’s room. “Konichiwa, Shino-kun.”

The boy looked up at him from his spot reclining in his bed. “Uzumaki-san,” he greeted. “This is a surprise.”

“Not a terrible one, I hope,” I said moving forward. I paused in the middle of the room and then bowed at the waist. “I’d like to apologize for yesterday and the injury that my reckless fighting caused you.”

“It’s . . . fine,” he said awkwardly. And though I couldn’t see his eyes because of his glasses, he tilted his head down to stare at his cast. “It’s a problem. But you fight well. If you promise not to break my arm a second time, then we should spar again once I’m better.”

A smile curled my lips at that. “Sounds like a plan. Oh! I, uh, brought you something.” I slung off my backpack and dug through it for a moment. Then I withdrew the wooden bento box and set it on his bed. “I made you melonpan.”

Shino shifted, awkwardly pushing himself up with one arm. Then he reached out and opened the box. “Arigato.”

“They’re unlocking chakra in class today. Thought you’d probably want to know that.”

Shino glanced up at me and, around a mouthful of melonpan, said, “Shouldn’t you be at the Academy?”

“I’ve already unlocked my chakra, so this was more important. How long do you have to wear the cast?”

“Two weeks. I was told that I can return to the Academy tomorrow, however.” He nodded to the chair in front of his desk. “You can take a seat.”

I nudged my backpack aside and pulled the chair near the bed. “Do you like shogi?”

He just nodded.

“Do you want to play?”

Another nod.

I grinned and then dug my shogi board out of my backpack. “Great!”

— — — — —

“Any particular reason for why you’re not at the Academy, Mirai-chan?”

I jumped in surprise, whipping around with a squeak. “Tachi-chan!”

He sighed at the name. “Well?”

I shoved my hands in my pockets. “People were unlocking chakra today and our sensei wouldn’t let me practice anything else. So instead I visited Shino-kun to apologize and make sure he was okay.”

“Was he?”

“Hai. We played shogi.” Then I smiled smugly. “I won.” I glanced in the direction of the Tower. “I’m gonna head back and wait in the yard until lunch break.”

“Which is in an hour,” he pointed out. “How does Ichiraku sound?”

“Really?” I squinted at him. “Are you paying?”

“I suppose.”

“Great! Then let’s go!” I grabbed ahold of his sleeve and started skipping in the opposite direction.

Itachi sighed and turned his arm so he was gripping my wrist. “Hold on,” he murmured.

Roaring chakra charged through my veins and the world around me dashed by. I caught my breath when we stopped, ignoring the boiling beneath my skin. “Whoa. I don’t think I liked that very much.” I pressed my hand against my twisting stomach and followed him to the bar. As I hopped up on a stool, Itachi cleared his throat.

“I want to help you.”

I glanced at him. “What?”

Teuchi looked towards us. “Your regular, Mirai-chan?”

“Hai. Please.”

“One vegetable ramen,” Itachi requested. When Teuchi nodded and turned away, Itachi turned to me again. “I’ve already agreed to help you with your taijutsu. But I’d like to help you with other things.”

“Other things?”

“Shinobi are not made solely from fighting. They are body and mind as a whole.”

I straightened. “Why? Why do you want to help me?”

“I talked to Shisui and he told me the reasoning you gave him to convince him to teach you.”

“Oh.” I cleared my throat. “Alright, then. I’d love for you to help me with that. How are you planning to do that?”

He reached into his kunai pouch and pulled out a scroll. “Here.”

I took it and unrolled it. Then I blinked, staring at the writing inside. “Wow. Uh, I’m not planning on being a politician, you know.”

“I know. But believe me when I say that political knowledge goes a long way. You’ll have to be able to pack a physical punch, but you also need to know how to manipulate and deceive.”

I nodded and rolled up the scroll. “Got it. Thank you.” I licked my lips as Teuchi set five bowls of fresh ramen in front of me. “Itadakimasu!” I dug in. I’d finished three bowls by the time Itachi sat back, setting his chopsticks across his empty bowl. “So you’re just gonna give me scrolls?”

“Hardly, Mirai-chan. But this is a good place to start, I think. And if you come over after the Academy, then I can help you more with your taijutsu.”

I wrinkled my nose, pulling my fifth bowl closer. “It’d be later than right after the Academy. I probably got detention again. Which is fine, I guess. Bekko-sensei seemed determined to give it to me no matter what.”

Itachi frowned minutely. “Are you having issues with your sensei?”

“Nothing I can’t handle. For now, at least.” I finished my last bowl and set my chopsticks across the top. “We’ll see how long it takes my patience to run out.” I began digging out my wallet.

“Just be sure not to do anything impulsive,” he told me, putting out a hand to stop me. Then he withdrew his own ryo and set them on the counter. “Arigato, Teuchi-san. If this would work better, we could do some taijutsu work now at the Academy while you continue to avoid your sensei.”

I hopped down from the seat with a grin. “That’d be perfect.” I tucked my hands into my pockets, ignoring the looks thrown my way as I followed him out onto the street. “I figured henge out.”

“So soon?” He didn’t sound surprised.

“Well, I only got it once. Haven’t tried it again. And I wasn’t able to hold it very long. But since it’s an actual transformation, not an illusion, it doesn’t require a level of chakra control that’s beyond me yet.”

“So you haven’t figured it out. You haven’t mastered a technique until it’s perfect every time.” He produced some dango from out of nowhere and offered some of it to me. “How is your water-walking?”

I stared at the dango for a long moment before taking it. Where’d he been keeping that? After murmuring my thanks, I said, “Getting better, but it’s difficult. I definitely understand the concept, but it’s not constant like tree-walking. It requires . . . .” I frowned, not really sure what the word I was looking for was.

“Flexibility?” Itachi offered up, putting a hand on my shoulder. And then before I could respond, the world around us bent as we shunshined. The earth slammed to a stop under me and I stumbled, lungs trying to crawl up my throat. He didn’t sound particularly apologetic when he said, “Sorry.”

I managed a weak glare. “A warning is always nice,” I rasped out. Kurama snorted in amusement and I made a face at the sound. Upon realizing that Itachi was watching me in amusement, I straightened and cleared my throat. Turning and leading the way into the front yard of the Academy, I said, “So, where should we start?” I dropped my bag to the ground and stepped away from it.

“Show me your stance again.”

I settled into my stance, adjusting according to what he had told me last time. I looked up at him to find him frowning. “Is . . . something wrong?”

“No, not at all.” He moved forward and began gently nudging my hands and feet to slightly adjust my positioning. As he did so, it began to feel a bit more natural and easier to rest into. “Where did you learn this stance, Mirai?”

“Here and there.” I couldn’t exactly say I learned it in a past life. “I’ve seen a lot of the ANBU spar, so I guess I pulled a lot of things from them. Why?”

“There are elements to it that I haven’t seen before. It’s a strong stance, just . . . unfamiliar.” He put a hand on my back to have me straighten a bit. “How’s that feel?”

“Huh. Better, actually. How’d you do that?”

“Your stance was good, but kept you too tense. Slight adjustments—mostly in your knees and hips—allow for a more even distribution of your weight so that you won’t tire from it. Relax out of it.”

I straightened out of the stance, focusing partially on the warm glow of Naruto’s chakra off to my right. I let that familiar feeling wash over me and then honed my attention back in on Itachi.

“Now, enter the stance again.”

“Again?”

“The stance is useless if you need me to adjust it ever time. You need to be able to remember the changes I’ve made and keep those adjustments yourself.”

“Right.” It was difficult to remember everything he’d done, and though the stance I settled into felt familiar, parts of it still felt wrong. Itachi moved forward and tapped my right elbow a bit closer to better protect my midsection. Then he shifted my knees back a little so they were over my feet. After a couple more adjustments, he stepped back. I looked down at myself to try to remember everything he’d done.

“And relax,” he ordered. When I’d done so, he said, “Again.” He paced around me, adjusting a couple things. “Better. Relax. Again. Good. Elbow in. Relax. Again. Keep your shoulders loose. Relax. Again.”

Naruto’s chakra, and the energy surrounding his, began to stir excitedly. As I relaxed out of the stance again at his direction, I said, “I think it’s lunch break.”

“Ah. I should probably go before Sasuke sees me and insists on leaving school.” Itachi smiled faintly and bowed his head. “You have a lot of potential, Mirai-chan. I can see why you’re so desperate to learn.”

“Thank you for your help, Tachi-chan.”

He sighed. “You’re insufferable.” Then he disappeared in a shunshin.

My chakra coils flinched back at the sudden rush of energy. I turned towards the tree I’d sat at the day before and sat down, pulling out Naruto’s bento box. I had that and the shogi board out when I heard him.

“Rai!”

“Nato! Come eat your food.” I managed to pull up a smile for the people accompanying him. “I brought my shogi board. As promised. Up for a game?”

Shikamaru didn’t answer immediately, but he did sit down across from me and immediately move a knight. Then he pulled out his bento. “Where did you go?” he asked.

“I went to visit Shino-kun. We played shogi. He’s very good.”

“Was he okay?” Choji asked worriedly. “It looked like it hurt.”

“He said he’ll be back tomorrow. And he looked like he was in a good mood.” I shrugged. “So yeah, I think he’s okay.”

The five of us fell into a comfortable silence, with even Naruto quiet as he devoured his food. It was only broken once when Choji shyly asked if he could have some more of the onigiri from earlier, to which I was happy to comply. My game with Shikamaru was close and for a moment it looked like he was going to win. Until.

“Uzumaki!”

Shikamaru jumped in alarm, sending his bishop flying off the board instead of moving to where he wanted it. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

“That’s fine.” I picked up the piece and handed it back to him, glancing towards the front door of the Academy. Bekko stood there, arms crossed as he glowered. “I’ll be back, Nato.” With a ruffle of his hair, I turned and headed for the Academy door. “Hai, Bekko-sensei?”

He frowned down at me, arms crossed tightly on his chest. “We’re going to speak with the Hokage.”

That . . . was not what I had expected. “Sorry?”

“You have been disrespectful, disorderly, and disruptive. I simply cannot have you threatening the learning of more deserving students. Come with me.” That said, he turned and started up the stairs, leaving hot ash over my skin.

In alarm, I realized that hot ash was his chakra. And that I was feeling his chakra twist and writhe angrily, defenses around it dropped by his emotions. Well, if this was a battle he thought he would win, then he was sorely mistaken. I jogged after him, my steps a little lighter than they had been before. Naruto’s chakra disappeared when we entered the building—it hurt less than it had the day before—and Bekko marched right up to the desk outside the Hokage’s office. “I would like to speak to the Hokage, please.”

The chunin at the desk looked up. Her gaze flicked to me for just a moment before she nodded. “Hokage-sama is in a meeting at the moment. You can speak with him after he’s done.” She returned to her paperwork.

As we moved to wait, I mused, “You know, the Hokage won’t side with you.”

He didn’t look at me, but when I relaxed I could feel the way his chakra twitched at my words.

“We have an understanding, now. So it really would be better if you didn’t even try.”

The chunin at the desk got up with a stack of paperwork and moved to the door. She knocked. After a moment, the old man’s familiar voice called, “Enter.”

She pushed her way inside and I could hear her—both her voice and chakra—as she said, “Here’s the report you asked for, Hokage-sama. And Korudo-san and Uzumaki-chan are here to see you.”

“Are they, now? Go ahead and send them in.”

I straightened. When the chunin stepped out, she waved us inside. “Go ahead,” she murmured. “He’s meeting with Mitarashi-san at the moment, but has said you can speak with him now.”

Bekko led the way, nodding slightly to the chunin as he passed her. I paced evenly after him, listening curiously to the faint whispers of a new chakra I hadn’t ever heard before. When I stepped into the office, I found myself staring at a purple-haired kunoichi that was chewing on a dango stick.

Oh.

Anko.

She squinted at me and seemed to be getting ready to say something but was easily interrupted before she even began.

“Ah, Bekko-san,” Hiruzen said, smiling as the door closed. “Is there a problem?”

“Hokage-sama, I cannot teach this child. She’s is a disruption in the classroom and today even had the audacity to leave the Academy in the middle of a lecture about—“

“Hokage-sama,” I interrupted easily, hands folded behind my back. “Could I share my perspective?”

He glanced towards me and I felt Bekko’s chakra seethe. Could no one else hear that? The Hokage nodded. “Very well. What is it you have to say about the situation, Mirai-chan?”

“Bekko-sensei is presumably a very accomplished teacher, I would think it best to move him to a class that doesn’t contain myself or my brother, considering the bias he seems to have against us. And I would, of course, hate for that bias to affect my progress as a shinobi.”

Bekko’s chakra choked and Anko’s own distant energy uncurled in curiosity. The Hokage frowned. “Bias, Mirai-chan?”

“Hai.” I smiled cooly and let my gaze flick momentarily to my father’s portrait. “Bias.”

“I see.” The Hokage cleared his throat and pulled out his pipe. “Hmm. Bekko-san, I’d like you to return to your class. Send Naruto-kun up here, along with his and Mirai-chan’s belongings, please. Anko, if you could go downstairs, I believe Kakashi is waiting to meet with me to receive a mission. Bring him up here, please.”

“Hai, Hokage-sama,” Bekko said. He threw a sharp look in my direction before turning and leaving, his angry energy leaving with him.

Anko shrugged and flicked away the dango skewer. It bounced off the wall and landed in the trashcan. “Sure thing.”

When the door closed behind her, subtle chakra flared around the walls of the room. “How did you find out?” the Hokage asked curiously. He didn’t seem surprised, or even worried. Just interested.

Without an invitation, I strolled over to the couch that sat under the window and took a seat. “The seal appears when I mold chakra.” I cut my gaze to him. “This doesn’t change anything. I still get to train but I still get to stay with Naruto.”

He smiled, but with his eyes shadowed beneath his Kage hat I couldn’t quite tell if it was genuine. “Of course. How was your first session with Tonbo?”

“Helpful.” I listened to the way the chakra in the walls dissipated. “I’m already sensing better.”

“And as I understand it, you’ve already gathered some teachers of your own, have you not? Shisui-kun and Itachi-kun seem very fond of you, and I hear that you managed to drag Yanagikage in via a bet.”

“Hmm,” I responded disinterestedly, habitually tracing out the patterns of a storage seal on the couch cushion. Distantly, I felt Naruto’s chakra spark against my senses as it reappeared. “Are you going to replace Bekko-sensei?”

“I will see what I can do. There is a very promising young chunin that could replace him, but I’m not sure. I wasn’t planning on making him an independent sensei so soon.”

The door opened. “You asked for me, Hokage-sama?”

My chakra lifted happily and I bounced up from the couch. “Niisan!”

“Pup?” The bewilderment was palpable in his voice and he caught me easily when I threw myself at him in a hug. With one hand resting on the top of my head, he asked, “Is something wrong, Hokage-sama?”

“Just having some issues with the twins’ sensei, that’s all,” Hiruzen said easily. “Naruto will be joining us shortly and neither will be returning to class today. Now, I have some things I would like to discuss with Mirai-chan, so I would be pleased if you could entertain Naruto-kun in the meantime. And possibly review with him the things he’ll be missing from class today? I believe they’re going over the basics of both chakra theory and the Academy taijutsu stance as well as beginning basic conditioning.”

When I looked up, Kakashi was staring at the Hokage. When he just continued to stare, I cleared my throat to prompt him. He glanced at me and then back up. “You want me to . . . teach him?”

“Just for today. I’ll delay your mission, of course. But it would be helpful while I go over some things with Mirai-chan. Could you do that?”

“Um.” He straightened and his hand dropped from my head. “Of course, Hokage-sama.”

The door opened. “Jiji?”

“Ah, Naruto-kun! Come in, come in.”

I grinned at my brother, taking my bag from him and noting it was a little heavier than before. I shouldn’t have expected anything else, of course. He wouldn’t have been able to seal the shogi board and bento boxes back into their scrolls. “Nato, do you think you could hang out with Nissan while I talk to the Hokage?”

He blinked and then looked up at Kakashi. “Wait, but what about school?”

“I’ll go over today’s lesson with you,” Kakashi said, though he paused hesitantly over every word. He put a hand on Naruto’s shoulder. “We should go.”

“Send Anko back in, please,” Hiruzen said. As they left, he gestured to the floor in front of his desk. “I’d like to have a conversation, Mirai-chan. In fact, Mitarashi-san and I were just discussing you and your desire to progress.”

I stepped forward and stopped in front of the desk. “Oh?”

“Hai. Mitarashi-san is one of the few within Konoha’s walls that is proficient in the first few levels of fuuinjutsu. You are interested in that subject, are you not?” He pulled his ashtray across the desk and emptied his pipe into it. Then, with a sigh, he took off his hat and set it aside. “Ah, Anko. Come in, come in.”

I stepped aside so she could stand beside me. When the door closed, I felt that same faint echo of the chakra in the walls. With a frowned, I looked up at her. “You’re willing to teach me?”

She shrugged, already chewing on another empty dango skewer. “Meh, the Hokage promised me that we could have our sessions in a dango shop and that all expenses while we’re there will be comped by the Village. So I couldn’t possibly lose anything by doing this, right?” She frowned deeply and the skewer splintered between her teeth. “Right?”

Shrugging, I said, “Well, I have read that it’s pretty common for beginners in the art of fuuinjutsu to explode seals. But loss of life is negligible in the pursuit of being badass, right?”

She spat out the splinters and then turned a wide, manic grin on me. “Oh, I’m going to enjoy this.”

— — — — —

“Ohayo, Tachi-chan. Can I come in?”

“Mirai-chan. We are just about to start dinner. Would you like to join us?” He stepped aside and let me in.

I waited until I toed off my shoes to respond. “I would, thank you. Is it just you, again?”

“Hai. Tousama is on a mission and Kaasan is working a shift at the hospital. So hai. I hope my own cooking is to your approval.” He waved me forward. “When Hatake-san was waiting for me with Naruto-kun at the Academy, he told me that you were having lessons with Mitarashi-san.”

“Hai. Hokage-sama thought it would be good for my fuuinjutsu studies.” I stepped into the dining area and stopped by Naruto. “How was your day, Nato?” I pressed a kiss against his temple and moved to sit next to him. As he began to happily rant about his day, Itachi dished out a plate for me. Eventually, Naruto followed a rabbit-trail into excited ramblings about his race to the compound with Sasuke. When he claimed he won, Sasuke immediately countered that and the two devolved into an argument. With a sigh, I turned to Itachi.

“Anko is really smart,” I admitted. “But I think I might get fat if I actually eat as much dango as she’s offering me, no matter how much I train.”

“Nonsense. If she’s offering you too much dango, pack it up and bring it to me.” He said it flatly, in the same tone he’d used to invite me inside or tell me that his parents were out. But when I squinted at him, his lips curled just a touch.

“I’ll be sure to.”

The moment dinner was finished, Naruto and Sasuke dragged us outside just in time for them to tumbled to the dirt and start wrestling. With a mild, contented sigh, Itachi sat down on the steps and closed his eyes. When I sat next to him, I could hear his chakra fall into a steady hum. “Tachi-chan?”

His chakra flickered. “Hai?” He opened his eyes and glanced towards me. Something must have showed in my expression, because he said, “I’m meditating. Would you like to join me?”

“Ah.” I sat down and let my hands fall loosely into my lap. I closed my eyes.

When I opened them, I was staring at familiar red fur behind grey bars. “Ohayo, Kyuubi.”

“Brat,” he mumbled, not even budging from his nap. “Leave me alone.”

“Touchy,” I muttered. “Fine. I’ll just go . . . .” I turned towards the doorway that led to the rest of my mindscape, only to hesitate. Except for my first time arriving in my mind, I’d never left this one room. “Explore,” I finished oddly.

Silence greeted me outside Kurama’s room, the lack of sound echoing up and down the empty ANBU hallway. The whispers above my head were quieter than they had been last time, more echoes than distractions. I pressed my hand against the smooth, grey wall. “Left,” I asked myself, “or right?” The decision was made for me when I saw the open door down to my right, the flickering warm light spilling out standing in stark contrast to the passive cool tones in the rest of my mind. I turned and moved towards the door, fingers trailing along the wall. Was that the Record Room? I stepped into the doorway.

The room in front of me was a disaster.

Scattered books and scrolls layered the floor, as if throw out by a tornado. Or maybe Naruto and Sasuke on a bad day. Some loose pages filled the empty gaps in the catastrophe. This was my mind? But just what part of it?

When I moved forward, my foot bumped against something and I looked down to find a scroll half unraveled on the floor. I stooped down and picked it up. When I unrolled it farther, the world spun and my stomach twisted.

“The Hokage is busy.”

When had I gone to the Tower? Without moving, I heard myself say, “But we really need to talk to him. It’s important!”

The desk chunin in front of me looked both annoyed and unconcerned. “He’s in a very important meeting. You can’t speak to him right now.”

“Later?” I heard myself ask again.

“He’s preparing for a journey to Suna tomorrow, so you won’t be able to speak to him until he comes back.”

With a gasp and a desperate wrench of my hands, I closed the scroll and the world tilted for just a moment before returning me to the disastrous ANBU Records Room within my own mind.

Well, then.

This was going to take a little work.

— — — — —

First Chapter — Previous Chapter — Next Chapter

#Samsaric Fanfic #Uzumaki Mirai #Uzumaki Naruto #Uchiha Sasuke #Aburame Shino #Tobitake Tonbo #Mitarashi Anko #Kyuubi no Kitsune #Kurama #Fanfiction #Fanfic #Naruto Fanfiction #Naruto Fanfic

3 notes · View notes

vulcan-highblood · 5 years ago

Text

Group Project

Fandom: Naruto

Rating: G

Pairing: Gen

Summary: Iruka didn't realize that a baby (6-year-old) joining his class was the herald to the end of his pranking days in the Academy. But when their teacher assigns Itachi and Iruka a group project, it becomes clear that Iruka's going to have to learn how to cooperate with the little smarty-pants Uchiha. The only problem is, he's not sure Itachi's willing to cooperate with him.

Read it on AO3

Group Project Sharingan-Stealer Iruka - Part 1

There was a new kid in class, Iruka noted absently as he eased his hand under his desk, pressing a small wad of what looked like chewing gum there, fighting to keep a straight face. At the front of the classroom, Aki-sensei was scribbling on the blackboard and babbling about this… Iruka paused, doing a double take. They were getting a baby in their class!

Okay, not a literal baby, but he might as well be! He was barely half the size of everyone else in the room, with big dark eyes, soft black hair, and chubby baby cheeks. Iruka fought not to laugh - what was this kid doing in their class? They were going to graduate in a few months, why on earth would they be moving this kid into their class now?

“I hope you will all be welcoming to Itachi. We have high hopes for him - for all of you -” here Aki-sensei paused to glare at Iruka, “to pass your upcoming assessment and graduate to Genin-rank.”

Iruka didn’t bother to hide his scowl at that. He’d been held back during the last assessment because of his poor written marks. And his poor practical scores. Also probably because he’d skipped the first half of the test to try and drop water balloons on the ANBU standing outside Hokage Tower. The real trap had actually been trying to corral them into tripping a wire that would send a ink-filled balloon at them from a completely different direction, but, like all the other times he’d tried to pull one over on the ANBU, it hadn’t succeeded.

He had been scolded pretty soundly by two of them, and then frog-marched back to the Academy, only to realize that Aki-sensei hadn’t reminded them about the test the day before, so he hadn’t known to show up on time. Or maybe she had reminded them, and Iruka had slept through it? Anyway, he’d missed most of the graduation exam, and Aki-sensei wasn’t about to let him forget it. Other than harassing him about tests, though, she had precious little to say to him that wasn’t critical and honestly just obnoxious, and Iruka got enough of that at the orphanage, so was it any wonder that he tended to tune her out?

“Hey Iruka,” Mizuki whispered, “check out the new kid. He’s an Uchiha.”

Iruka rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I noticed.” It was hard to miss the fan shape on the kid’s shirt, after all. Did Mizuki really think he was that dumb? He may not be great in school, but he knew the clan crests! At least, the important ones. Mostly. Anyway, Uchiha was an easy crest to recognize because it looked like a fan.

“No, idiot, I mean,” Mizuki shot back with an irritated grimace, “He’s an Uchiha. I heard they’re the ones responsible for… you know.”

“I don’t know,” Iruka replied, frowning. “Responsible for what? They’re the military police, I’m sure they have a lot of responsibilities.”

Mizuki glanced back and forth like he was going to tell Iruka a secret, and then whispered very loudly, “They’re the ones who caused the Kyuubi attack.”

Whispers rippled across the room as eyes turned to land on the new baby in their class. They didn’t have any Uchiha kids in their year, or hadn’t, but Iruka had seen a couple of Uchihas around the academy in some of the lower classes. They didn’t seem like the sort of people to be letting nine-tailed demon foxes loose in the village, but what did Iruka know? The Uchihas mostly stuck to their own compound, except when they were in school, and Iruka couldn’t recall ever meeting one outside of school. He scowled down at the kid. If his family was responsible for that night… Iruka swallowed hard. It had been two years since that night, but sometimes his throat still burned like he’d never stopped screaming.

Slowly, he forced his eyes away from the tiny kid in the front row. What his family had done wasn’t his business, anyway. As long as he didn’t bother Iruka, he didn’t have a problem with the little kid.

Itachi Uchiha was starting to get on Iruka’s nerves. It wasn’t like the kid was

trying

to annoy him necessarily. At least, that didn’t seem to be his intent. But his very existence felt like a splinter stuck under Iruka’s skin that he couldn’t seem to dislodge, setting him on edge. And then,

then

he’d started to actively get a rise out of Iruka. It wasn’t just the way that this

tiny baby child

had waltzed into their classroom and

immediately

risen to the top of the class in test scores, or even the way he managed to

always

master everything in their practical skills work. It wasn’t even the way he was

always

raising his hand in class to answer questions, or

worse,

ask

questions, which would lead Aki-sensei on a tangent when Iruka just wanted to

go outside

and not sit at a desk and listen to a boring teacher blather on about boring rules. No, the thing that made Iruka genuinely irritated was the fact that Itachi kept

ratting him out.

It had started on the very first day. After Mizuki had made his not-so-subtle announcement about the Uchiha clan and their supposed connection to the disaster from two years ago, Itachi had taken a moment to turn and glance back at the rest of the room, his gaze sweeping over the class before frowning at Iruka. Or, more specifically, the ‘gum’ under Iruka’s desk. Then, he raised his hand.

“Yes, Itachi?” Aki-sensei said, pausing mid-lecture. “You have a question?”

“Not exactly,” Itachi answered, his dark eyes drifting back over his shoulder to peer at Iruka. “Are exploding tags allowed in this classroom?”

Iruka was going to strangle him. He’d planned this out to the letter, and now this tiny kid was going to ruin it? He gripped his pencil so hard it almost broke, widening his eyes at the little Uchiha as if to say “don’t you dare,” but the little kid seemed totally unmoved.

“No,” Aki-sensei said, her eyes drifting from Itachi up to where he was staring: Iruka’s desk. “They are not. Iruka?”

Desperately, Iruka tried to salvage the situation, lifting his hands in the air. “Look, I don’t have an exploding tag, my hands are empty-”

“He was sticking it under his desk while you were writing on the chalkboard,” Itachi interrupted. “I saw him hide it under the gum.”

“It’s not an exploding tag!” Iruka barked back, irritated.

“Oh?” Suddenly, Aki-sensei was across the room, standing beside his desk. One of her eyes twitched as she stared down at Iruka, a dangerous gleam in her stare. “And if it’s not an exploding tag, then what is it?”

… he should have seen that one coming. Iruka glared furiously at Itachi, who had already turned around in his seat and didn’t seem to notice the enraged look Iruka was tossing in his direction. If Iruka knew how to radiate a killing intent, he would have, because what was this kid’s deal? It wasn’t like he was going to be personally affected by a little stink-bomb, especially not one as weak as the one Iruka had thrown together this morning by modifying a stolen exploding tag from the training grounds. It was set to go off at a specific trigger, specifically exposure to chakra, which would probably be when Aki-sensei peeled the gum off the desk at the end of class, because he’d used some chakra to stick it right at the edges, and Aki-sensei wasn’t one for finesse, so knowing her, she’d just blast the whole thing with chakra to peel it off, and then… boom! The room would be filled with the smell of rotten eggs. It wouldn’t have bothered anyone else, just smelled up the room and probably also Aki-sensei. To match her stinking personality, because she hated Iruka and never bothered to hide her disdain, so why should anyone care if she smelled as stinky as her attitude?

“...it’s just a stink-tag,” Iruka groused.

Aki-sensei scowled down at him, folding her arms over her chest. “If it’s just a…” she made a small confused face, “…stink-tag…” she shook her head at the unfamiliar phrase before continuing, “then, I suppose you know how to remove it without setting it off?”

Iruka nodded slowly, his mind already spinning as he re-evaluated his options. He fought to keep his expression neutral as an idea occurred to him. Really, Itachi had brought this on himself with his meddling. If he hadn’t said anything, the only person who would have been affected was Aki-sensei and her nasty attitude.

Aki-sensei was watching him with her sharp gaze. “Honestly, Iruka, sometimes I wonder why you even bother coming to class at all,” she snapped, “if all you’re going to do is make trouble, you might as well not be here.”

Iruka agreed, in a general sense. He didn’t want to be in Aki-sensei’s classroom any more than she wanted him there. But he wanted to become a ninja, a great ninja, like his parents, and that meant he had to graduate from Ninja Academy, even if it meant putting up with mean people like Aki-sensei. “Yes, sensei,” was all he said, reaching under his desk and minding his own chakra, making sure to keep it well away from the ‘gum’, peeling the sticky substance away from the desk to reveal the small tag he’d altered that morning. Then, with a smirk, he turned to face the front of the classroom, and shouted, “Hey, Itachi! Catch!” and pushed a tiny bit of his chakra into the tag as he threw it at Itachi’s head. The tag exploded before it reached the kid, really almost as it left Iruka’s hand, but it was the thought that counted, Iruka decided. The odorous smoke trailed across the room, covering mostly Iruka and Aki-sensei, but also quickly filling the entire classroom with a horrible stench.

Despite the urge to gag, Iruka had to admit the tag had worked well. Next time, he’d have to figure out a detonation timer, or distance trigger for it. It worked basically the same as a regular exploding tag, but with less concussive force and more smell, so he was fairly confident he could get it to work. He grinned, even as Aki-sensei grabbed his shoulder and shook him hard, scolding him about whatever. He wasn’t listening. Instead, as their classroom was being evacuated, amidst the coughing, choking, and streaming eyes, Iruka caught Itachi’s cool, dark gaze, and winked at him. The Uchiha looked away. Heh. Score 1: Umino Iruka.

Iruka’s detention after school to air out the classroom and scrub it top-to-bottom was worth it, he decided. Maybe next time Itachi would think twice before selling him out.

…he did not.

~~*~~

In the weeks that followed, Iruka discovered a few new facts about Uchiha Itachi.

Fact one: Itachi was a rules guy.

He didn’t particularly care what the retaliation would be, if he saw Iruka breaking a rule, he would say something and it would suck. Iruka was usually able to get away with a few pranks here and there just because Aki-sensei couldn’t prove it was him, but with Itachi’s eagle-eyes following him everywhere, it seemed like he was getting detentions nonstop. At this point, Aki-sensei had taken to making Iruka stand in the corner of the classroom and stare at the wall for a few hours after every prank. Then she had the audacity to get mad when Iruka would come in the next day without his homework! He was an older kid in the orphanage, he had chores to do, and he was spending detention staring at a wall! Maybe if she let him do his homework instead of standing around doing nothing, he’d actually be able to finish it! Not that he bothered saying as much - she would have just accused him of making excuses.

Another fact about Uchiha Itachi: He was a genius.

It was more than just how good at everything in school he was, he was also good at catching Iruka when Iruka was trying to pull a prank. He was better at that than his teachers, even! In a way, Itachi reminded Iruka of the ANBU around Hokage Tower, able to somehow spot every trap he was setting up and avoiding every piece of it as if it was nothing. Itachi seemed capable of effortlessly noticing, dismantling, and alerting the adults whenever Iruka tried to pull something, and he took it as a personal challenge. Iruka stopped caring so much about pranking Aki-sensei, who at this point had taken to ignoring him all over again. Instead, he started trying to get Itachi.

A lot of the classic pranks didn’t pan out, and Itachi just reported him to Aki-sensei, who had him stand in a corner until after dinnertime, which usually meant he’d get back to the orphanage late and have nothing to eat and still an hour or two of chores before lights-out. So after a few failed attempts, Iruka moved on from that, but he didn’t give up on the idea. As much as it sucked to go without dinner for a night here and there, he had Itachi’s attention, and he felt like maybe this was a prime way to practice his ANBU traps without alerting any actual ANBU to his early attempts. As he took his time coming up with new pranks, part of Iruka even wondered if Itachi might be enjoying himself, too. It was hard to tell.

This tied into fact three about Uchiha Itachi: He reacted to basically everything in a calm, methodical, mild manner.

Since he never seemed to respond to anything, his lack of reaction to the pranks seemed fairly normal to Iruka. Itachi never seemed especially surprised or angry, and he only really smiled when he was talking about his baby brother, Sasuke. But Iruka thought that maybe Itachi enjoyed the challenge of spotting his pranks, of reporting him to Aki-sensei, almost as much as Iruka enjoyed trying to think up new ways to get him. If he didn’t, then why would he keep doing it? Surely it was easier to just let Iruka do what he wanted.

Things continued on in this way for about a month. Iruka would set a trap, Itachi would spot it and report him to Aki-sensei, Aki-sensei would make him stand in the corner, and Iruka wouldn’t turn in his homework the next day. It became almost routine, until Aki-sensei told the class they would be doing a group homework project. Instantly, everyone started trying to grab their friends and pair up - but Aki-sensei cut them off, saying that everyone would be drawing names from a bag, instead. Starting at the front of the room, she had the students pass the bag to the student beside them, writing down the student pairs on the blackboard as they went.

At least, that’s what she did until Itachi fished out the name of his partner and read it aloud. “Umino Iruka.”

Whispers danced across the classroom. A few of the more dedicated students in the front rows whispered variations on “ouch,” and “tough break!” and “glad I’m not you!” to Itachi, who, as usual, didn’t seem to react at all.

Pressing his lips together to keep from yelling at the other kids about how he was glad he wasn’t them, Iruka clenched his fists. He knew he wasn’t a good student. He knew nobody wanted to be paired up with him when it had to do with studying. He knew that. But it still hurt to hear them say it.

Aki-sensei, meanwhile, was standing at the blackboard, her chalk hovering over the spot where she should have been writing Iruka’s name next to Itachi’s, verifying them as homework partners for the project. Instead, she was frowning. “I don’t normally do this,” she said, “But, if you’d like, Itachi, you can pick a different partner.”

Iruka felt his stomach clench. If he’d like? Of course he’d like! No one wanted to be paired up with Iruka for homework, even Mizuki had scooted over to ask someone else to be his partner before Aki-sensei had brought out the name bag. Iruka stared down at his desk, willing his face to stay neutral, not to show emotion. It didn’t matter. He wasn’t going to work on this project anyway, so it didn’t matter that no one wanted him. They were right not to want him, it’s not like he wanted to work on this project with anyone anyway.

“No,” came Itachi’s soft, measured voice, “I’m fine with Iruka.”

Iruka hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath until it escaped in a whoosh. His head jumped up and he stared at Itachi, baffled. Why would Itachi agree to work with him if he had another choice? If it hadn’t been Itachi, Iruka was pretty sure that Aki-sensei wouldn’t have offered, but she liked Itachi, and hated Iruka. She looked even more shocked than Iruka, still standing in front of the blackboard, chalk in hand, the space next to Itachi’s name still blank.

“You’re sure,” Aki-sensei said, reluctance clear from her tone of voice.

“I am,” Itachi answered, passing the bag of names to the student to his right. “My partner is Iruka.”

And despite the fact that Iruka couldn’t stand Itachi, he felt a small bloom of something warm in his chest. Itachi hadn’t tossed him aside, even though literally everyone else in the class wouldn’t work with him unless they were forced. But Itachi had not only not been forced to work with Iruka, he’d chosen to work with Iruka even when given the alternative - encouraged to take the alternative!

Iruka, who had up to this moment intended to do nothing on the project, found himself wondering if he could clear up some time after school to work with Itachi. He’d probably miss dinner again, the orphanage was pretty strict about mealtimes. But he wanted to do something to show Itachi that he was glad not to be tossed aside, for once. It felt nice. He knew, intellectually, that Itachi hadn’t specifically requested Iruka, but after two years of being avoided, ignored, and actively rejected by most of his classmates when it came to academics… well, he didn’t want to give Itachi a reason to reject him next time.

Slowly, painfully, Aki-sensei turned and wrote Iruka’s name on the board next to Itachi’s, making a face like she’d taken a big bite of raw lemon, rind and all. Iruka grinned. He’d show her. He and Itachi would make a great team.

~~*~~

“Hey! Itachi!” Iruka called, chasing him down after class let out. “Hey,” he puffed, slowing to a walk, moving more sedately than usual to account for Itachi’s shorter legs. “When do you want to start on that project?”

Itachi blinked, turning to look up at Iruka. “What do you mean?”

Iruka frowned. “The group project. The homework assignment. The one Aki-sensei assigned today?”

A hint of red dusted Itachi’s cheeks, and his eyes dropped away from Iruka’s to gaze ahead. “Oh. I’m sorry. I wasn’t planning on working with you at all.”

Iruka felt his chest clench sharply at the words, and he froze in place, his feet seeming rooted to the ground. “What?”

Itachi stopped too, turning to look at Iruka with a vaguely baffled expression. “You never do your homework,” he explained slowly, “and I’m perfectly capable of finishing the project on my own. You don’t need to do anything.”

Iruka felt his face growing hot. “Just because I don’t turn in my homework doesn’t mean I can’t do it!” he protested. “This is a group project! I can help!”

Turning, Itachi continued walking. “I have no way of knowing that based on your current record.” He waved a hand dismissively as he continued, “It’s fine, Iruka. I’ll take care of the project, and we’ll both get a good grade for once.”

Iruka gaped at his receding figure, unable to find words amidst the maelstrom of emotions clutching him. All he could do was stand there and watch as Itachi walked off, probably heading home to his mom and his dad and his brother and all of the other things that Iruka didn’t have that Itachi probably took for granted. He didn’t need Itachi’s help to get a good grade for once, he just needed time. Furious, Iruka spun on his heel, stomping toward the orphanage with so much force that his feet were hurting by the time he arrived.

He got there in time for dinner after all, only to find that he wasn’t hungry.

~~*~~

The next morning dawned bright and early, and Iruka was peeved. It was the weekend, and usually he used his free time to dream up a prank or two for the following week, gather supplies, and run a few preliminary tests to make sure everything worked out the way he expected. Instead, as he lay on his lumpy futon in a room too full of kids that nobody wanted, he grappled with the fact that he wanted to do his homework.

He wanted to do it. He wanted to prove to Itachi that he could do it, that just because he didn’t usually do his homework didn’t mean he couldn’t. He had a copy of the instructions, how hard could it be to just do it?

Several hours later, one bout of frustrated tears, an ink-filled water balloon and some angry shouting later, Iruka realized that homework was a lot harder to finish than he’d anticipated. It wasn’t his fault that he didn’t have any reference materials! He’d lost library permission for probably the rest of his life after using one of the library books in a prank that had gone vastly underappreciated, so he couldn’t look up any of the information he needed. And he didn’t have the money for notebooks, he always borrowed paper from Aki-sensei when they needed an extra sheet of paper, so he didn’t have any notes from class to look over, either. Even his prank supplies came by way of his sticky fingers, and he had a feeling that if he tried to steal reference books from the bookstore they might not like that, so much.

So, he’d cried a little, filled a water balloon with ink, snuck out, and dropped the ink bomb onto an unsuspecting passer-by on their way into Hokage Tower. Of course, the ANBU on duty weren’t entirely pleased, though one of them did tell the Chunin who’d been entering that he needed to be more aware of his surroundings, if someone like Iruka could surprise him like that. Iruka took a bit of offense at that - he was pretty good at hiding and catching people off guard, the ANBU were just even better at noticing things.

After the angry Chunin had marched off to wash the ink from his hair and the ANBU on Iruka’s left had finally let him stand up instead of holding him folded over at a 90-degree angle to ensure his apology appeared more or less sincere, Iruka turned to leave. He didn’t feel any better, and his homework still wasn’t even close to finished. He dug into his pocket, pulling out the assignment and glaring balefully at it. Maybe he could hide in the back of one of the bigger bookstores and try to read a few books before they kicked him out?

“Hey kid,” said one of the ANBU who had made him apologize to the ink-covered Chunin, “What’cha got there?” The other ANBU elbowed them in the side and hissed something, but it was too low for Iruka to hear.

“...homework,” Iruka answered the first ANBU, ignoring the second. “But I can’t go to the library, and I don’t have any books or paper at the orphanage.”

“What about your textbook?” the ANBU asked, cocking their head to the side in a manner that implied genuine curiosity.

“When I’m in class I just borrow one of the classroom books, but after I… uh…” Iruka shuffled his feet awkwardly. “Anyway, I’m not allowed to take the textbook out of the classrooms anymore.”

The second ANBU snorted at this, and the first ANBU turned to look at them with what Iruka imagined was a withering stare, although the mask did somewhat disrupt the effect. After a moment, the first ANBU turned back to Iruka. “Lemme see what you’ve got to work on,” said the ANBU, extending a hand. They unrolled the assignment, straightening up a little as they read. “Oh, well, you’re in luck, kiddo. This is a group project, so you can probably just share materials with your partner.”

Iruka wanted to sink into the ground. He swallowed hard, willing himself to lift his eyes to meet the dark space behind the bright white ANBU mask. “My partner doesn’t want to work with me,” he said, his face heating as he explained. “He said that, since I never turn in my homework, he’ll just do it all himself. But I don’t want him to do all the work! I can do it! I just wish he’d given me a chance…” Iruka said, trailing off. He swallowed hard, feeling a prickling at his eyes. Oh no, no, he was not going to cry in front of these ANBU.

“Hmm,” said the ANBU, considering the scroll. “I bet if you asked Sandaime-sama, he might let you use some of his reference books.”

Now it was the second ANBU’s turn to stare pointedly at the first. The first ANBU did not seem affected whatsoever by this reaction.

Iruka blinked, considering the suggestion. Usually, he only visited the third Hokage when he was invited over for tea, about once a month. He’d never considered asking for anything else, or stopping by when it wasn’t their monthly tea time. “You think he would let me do my homework up there?” Iruka asked, pointing to Hokage Tower.

The ANBU nodded slowly. “What do you say we head on up together and find out?”

“This is ridiculous,” the second ANBU protested, “I’m sure the Hokage is-”

“Deeply invested in the education of our new generation of shinobi, yes, I agree,” the first ANBU interrupted sharply. “It can’t hurt to ask.”

The second ANBU sighed, and returned to their post at the door. “Fine. You go on up. But for the record? I think this is-”

“Thank you for your opinion,” the first ANBU interrupted again, one hand on Iruka’s shoulder as he guided him through the door. “I’ll be back out shortly.”

The second ANBU huffed, but said nothing more.

Iruka and the ANBU walked in silence for a few moments before Iruka felt compelled to say, “You didn’t have to interrupt ANBU-san back there. I know nobody wants me around.” He forced a grin even as his stomach twisted uncomfortably. He glanced up at the ANBU, whose grip on his shoulder had tightened incrementally at the words. “I’m a nuisance. Everybody says it, it’s no secret.”

“You’re a kid,” the ANBU replied, their grip loosening slightly as they continued walking, “All kids are nuisances at one time or another. Nothing to worry about.”

Iruka had a feeling most people would disagree with that assessment, but he liked the thought that maybe it was okay to be a nuisance, at least sometimes. He’d never felt that way before, or at least, no one had ever bothered to say as much to him. “Do you really think the Hokage will let me use his books to finish my homework?”

“I don’t know,” the ANBU said honestly, “but it’s worth asking.”

Iruka nodded, and the two of them continued down the corridor in comfortable silence.

~~*~~

As it turned out, the Hokage was not only willing to let Iruka use his books, he also told him that if he ever needed reference materials, he should go to the Sarutobi residence and request access to the clan library.

“You’re welcome to use those resources any time you need them,” the Hokage told him seriously, “...so long as you don’t draw funny moustaches on all of the pictures in the scrolls,” he added with a twinkle of amusement in his eyes.

Iruka agreed, face heating as he realized the Hokage had heard about how Iruka had ended up with a probably-lifetime ban from the community library. After the two of them looked over Iruka’s assignment together, the Hokage sent him off to the Sarutobi residence with a list of four or five references to find and bring back. “We’ll work together,” he said. “I’ll do my paperwork, and you can do your homework. When we’re done, we can have lunch together.”

Accustomed to a five-finger-discount lunch on the typical weekend, Iruka brightened considerably at the idea of a hot meal. “Great! Thanks!”

“If you wouldn’t mind accompanying Iruka to the Sarutobi compound, ANBU-san?” the Hokage asked, turning to raise an eyebrow in the direction of the ANBU that had brought Iruka up to his office.

The ANBU bowed. “Yes sir.”

Iruka grinned as he followed the ANBU back down the stairs and across the village towards the Sarutobi compound, clenching his fist tight around the assignment. He’d show Itachi! He’d walk into the Academy on Monday with the best homework assignment of the whole class!

~~*~~

When Monday rolled around, Iruka strolled into the classroom like he owned it. Grinning wide, he walked right up to Aki-sensei’s desk and set his assignment beside the small pile of assignments that several other students had dropped off on their way into class.

Aki-sensei glanced down, her nose wrinkling slightly as she looked at Iruka’s submission. “What is this?” she asked, lifting her eyes to stare at Iruka with suspicion.

“My homework,” Iruka replied belligerently.

“But Itachi already submitted your homework,” Aki-sensei said, glancing at the dark-haired, dark-eyed boy who was in his usual front row seat, staring at them like Iruka had grown a second head overnight.

“He submitted his version,” Iruka clarified with a grin, feeling almost excited. “This is my version.”

Now Aki-sensei looked downright worried as she picked up his assignment using only the very tips of her fingers. “Is that so?” she sneered. “So if I open this, it will contain your research project, and not, say, a stink bomb?”

Iruka scowled. “No, there’s no stink bomb.”

“Some kind of dead animal?” Aki-sensei prodded.

How uncreative! As if Iruka would do something so obvious. “Of course not,” he scoffed, insulted by the very idea.

“Of course not,” Aki-sensei repeated, her eyes narrowed. She didn’t seem particularly convinced. “What did you do to this?” she finally demanded. “Where’s the punchline?”

“There is no punchline,” Iruka said, the sick feeling crawling back into his stomach as more and more students were walking into class, dropping their assignments on the desk, and heading to their seats. What was the big deal with his homework? Why did she have such a problem with it?

“Right,” Aki-sensei scoffed. “Well, I suppose, if there’s no prank, then you won’t mind if I do this,” she said, crushing the paper between her palms before throwing it into the wastepaper bin.

“No!” Iruka cried, taking an involuntary step forward.

“Iruka,” Aki-sensei said sharply, “This was a group project. I will only accept one submission for the assignment. Did you really think I would take yours over Itachi’s?”

Iruka felt like he’d been hollowed out from the inside as he shook his head weakly. Of course not. Nothing he did would ever measure up to Itachi. Why had he even tried?

“Take your seat, Iruka,” Aki-sensei said sharply, “You’re holding up the class.”

Numbly, Iruka shuffled to the back of the classroom, sinking into his chair and staring ahead without really seeing anything. He didn’t fall asleep, but by the time classes were finished for the day he still hadn’t managed to focus long enough to recall a single thing from Aki-sensei’s lecture.

He moved like he was in a fog, slipping his worn school bag over his shoulder and shuffling out the door, barely able to remember to keep putting one foot in front of the other. What was the point? Why should he try at all, if it wasn’t even going to make a difference in the end?

He kept trudging his way across town, and was nearly back to the orphanage when he heard someone calling his name.

“Iruka! Iruka!”

He turned, expecting maybe Mizuki, or Anko, or one of the other orphans who stayed in the orphanage and just wanted some company as they headed in together. Instead, he saw Itachi jogging towards him, holding a crumpled piece of paper. Iruka’s heart sank. Perfect. The last person he wanted to see after today. Why was he here? What was he doing with an old paper, and why was he chasing after Iruka, waving it around like a flag?

“What do you want?” Iruka demanded, hating that he was losing to a kid half his age, half his size, and twice as good as him at literally everything.

“I wanted to apologize,” Itachi answered, not even a little winded from his run. Showoff.

“Apologize for what?” Iruka asked, frowning a little. For being so perfect at everything?

“I underestimated you, Umino Iruka,” Itachi said, his little face drawn into a look so serious that it just ended up looking cute. For a moment, Iruka almost forgot how much he couldn’t stand the kid.

“...how so?” Iruka finally asked, sticking his hands into his pockets and staring down at this nuisance of a kid. Well. Nuisance to Iruka, anyway. He wasn’t surprised that he’d been underestimated, that was pretty much his entire life story at this point.

“This is really good work,” Itachi explained, still with that adorable serious look on his face. He extended the crumpled paper in Iruka’s direction, at which point Iruka finally realized that it wasn’t any old crumpled paper.

It was Iruka’s homework paper. The one he’d slaved over for hours. The one he’d spent almost the entire weekend in the Hokage’s office working on. The homework that Aki-sensei had crumpled up and thrown out without even bothering to look at it. “Give me that!” he snapped, his fingers closing around the paper, tugging it out of Itachi’s grasp.

The kid let it go without a fuss. “It’s really excellent work,” he said. “If you submitted work like that every day, you could probably be near the top of the class.”

“If I had time to submit work like that, maybe,” Iruka snapped back. “Some of us don’t have that luxury.” he jerked his head in the direction of the orphanage. “I have to go feed some kids and clean the bathrooms now, so…”

Itachi tilted his head, a confused look crossing his features. “You feed kids? Are they your siblings?”

Iruka laughed at that. “Nah, but they don’t have anyone else to feed them,” he answered, thinking of little Nanako with the big brown eyes and frizzy black hair who hated vegetables, of Haru, who should be able to eat on his own now but still made a huge mess when he did, and even … Naruto … the living embodiment of his parents’ killer. It was awkward, sometimes, being that close to the vessel of a monster, but he was still a kid. It was weird, but Iruka didn’t mind it, not the way some people did.

“Oh,” Itachi looked surprised. “I feed my brother, sometimes. When mom and dad aren’t home.”

Iruka considered Itachi. “Sasuke, right? Your little brother?”

An actual smile bloomed across Itachi’s face at that. “Yeah,” he said. “Sasuke.”

“Cool,” Iruka said awkwardly, crumpling the homework assignment back into a ball and shoving it into his pocket. “Well, I’m going to go… feed. Kids.”

“Okay,” Itachi said, nodding. “Oh, and Iruka?” he added, just before Iruka turned to walk away.

“Yeah?” Iruka asked, feeling his shoulders stiffen almost involuntarily. “What?”

“Next time we have a group project…” Itachi’s gaze wandered, resting on the orphanage, the trees, the sky, anything but Iruka, “Maybe we could work together?”

Iruka felt something inside him melt at that, the tension he’d been carrying all day finally loosening as he felt a small smile tug at the corners of his mouth. “Sure,” he said cautiously. “Thanks.”

Itachi nodded once to acknowledge he’d heard before turning around and gliding away, most likely heading for the Uchiha compound.

Iruka watched him go, not quite sure how to feel. Relieved that Itachi had acknowledged his effort? Frustrated that he hadn’t trusted him to do the work in the first place? Annoyed that Itachi was the one who got to decide whether or not they’d work together on a group project in the future? With a sigh, he decided it wasn’t worth worrying about. He had bathrooms to clean and toddlers to feed. Whatever else was going on in his life, he could worry about it later.

As he turned to face the orphanage, he frowned, considering the new homework Aki-Sensei had assigned today, crumpled up in his school bag. Maybe, after dinner, after his chores, he would head over to the Sarutobi library for an hour or two and see if he could at least get some of it finished by nightfall. Sure, it might be lights-out by the time he got back to the orphanage, but Iruka had gotten pretty good at sneaking past wards, and he was pretty sure he’d have no problem sneaking back into the orphanage after lights-out.

That decided, Iruka grinned and marched up the front steps of the orphanage. This time, it wasn’t a group project, so Aki-sensei would have to accept his assignment. He couldn’t wait to see the look on her face when he handed it in.

#umino iruka #uchiha itachi #iruka fic #sharingan stealer iruka #itachi fic

11 notes · View notes

lukeswerrthing · 6 years ago

Text

Misplaced Blossom, prologue

Sakura registers pain first, above all else. Then comes the rush of sounds; the rustle of leaves, the chirping of birds and insects, the whistle of the wind in a forest. Her senses fight for balance as she breathes a lungful of dirt and air, trying to ground herself. She’s lying on a forest clearing, the crushed plants, rocks and gnarled roots pressing painfully into her side. Judging from the general peace of her surroundings, there are no humans around. Secure she’s safe from enemies, Sakura’s inspection turns inwards. She quickly assesses her physical state, finding her ribs bruised, her leg and pelvis broken and her left shoulder a pulverized lump. There are stinging cuts and welts on her skin, but nothing deep.

Groaning, she tries to lever herself up and nearly faints when her world spins. Putting most of her weight on her right arm, she manages to scoot closer to the tree half a foot behind her. Leaning against its sturdy bulk, Sakura frees her one useful limb to do some damage control. As the world around her is frighteningly foreign, she tries to keep her healing to the minimum. A denizen of Konoha, trees are her most welcome and recognized habitat. A forest is her element. This forest, though, is as alien to her as an underwater reef. The trees look nothing like the ones she is used to, the leaves of the bushes around her are odd and large. Even the birds above her head, flying as they hunt for food, give calls she’s never heard. Their coloring, black with white tipped wings, is strange. The brief flash of something that looks like a squirrel stuns her as she registers its too long ears, red tail and elongated face.

Quick, not wanting to be caught motionless and helpless, she heals her most pressing wounds. Her ribs are unbroken, only uncomfortable. The mild concussion, she heals; a head-injury, even a tiny one, can prove fatal if left unchecked. Her pelvis and leg are her next concern, as they ground her like a bird without wings. The breaks are clean and easy to heal, allowing Sakura to use her body’s natural system to strengthen her bone. Her shoulder proves to be the most difficult wound, forcing Sakura to go into somewhat of a concentrated trance as she struggles to find the shards of her shattered bone and bring the together. To keep her chakra stores from getting too low, she merely pieces it back together, something a patchwork job. Her Shishou would have her head at the sloppy handiwork, but out in the field without her team and in an unknown land… perhaps Tsunade will forgive the rushed procedure. She leaves the surface cuts as they are, merely healing the lowest layer of skin to keep from bleeding and infection. Already her wounds are attracting bugs and she’ll need to clean up soon.

Sakura doesn’t know exactly how she got here, and her memories of the events before now are fuzzy. Standing with only a slight wince at her movements, she studies her surroundings with a clearer mind.

This forest is definitely unknown to her. The trees are tall and ancient, their girth and considerable size is astounding. Something about them gives Sakura the creeps. It’s as though they have a life of their own, brimful with more energy than she’s ever seen. Unlike at home, this forest seems to be more alive, almost indecently so. She shakes off the feeling of paranoia, fighting the urge to level the field around her. Fortunately, her pack is on her back and she’s mission-armed. She even has her summoning scrolls and medic-jutsu scrolls on her belt. Though severely depleted by her crude healing, her chakra is a strong, steady, comforting hum beneath her skin. She focuses her attention to the forest itself, waiting. After her rise from the forest floor, the animals nearest had fallen silent; as per usual in the presence of a moving predator her size. On a wider inspection, the rest of the wildlife around her is undisturbed and active. There doesn’t seem to be many people around these parts. There is a faint sense of something lying beneath the foliage, a power not unlike the wild, pervasive, yet natural chakra of a bijuu. It’s as though the Kyuubi itself lies sleeping in the Earth beneath her feet. It’s a disturbing feeling that has Sakura prowling forward restlessly. She needs to find a river, a place to wash her wounds in peace. A quick look upwards serves nothing but foliage, so she takes to the treetops. The break in the leaves allows for a better view if the sky. Checking, she registers the late hour by the position of the sun and orients herself.

Several miles south saw a break in the forest and the possibility of a village. It’s at least half a day’s travel from where she stands. She can’t see a river, so she assumes that a place with people would be her best bet. Sighing, she drops down a few feet to land among the heavier, sturdier bottom branches of the tree. It groans, like a living thing, and spooks Sakura almost out of her skin. Deciding this forest is too horribly alive for her peace of mind, she takes to running toward the safety of the tree-less venture down south. If possible, humans mean a place to clean up, rest and orientation. Perhaps even a map and an explanation.

She runs past sunset, using the shadows to remain concealed among the boughs. There’s almost nothing around her except wildlife, but her stealth training is a precaution Kakashi had beaten into her during her genin years. In a foreign land, among oddly moving trees, Sakura’s guard is in overdrive. Her energy is waning, and Sakura considers hunting for food. She doesn’t trust the fruits or leaves around her, but hunting would require a fire to cook her meal. In this forest, a fire doesn’t seem to bright an idea. The niggling feeling that one of the trees wouldn’t take kindly to her using its branches as kindling is a fantasy she’s rather not confirm.

Suddenly, among the darkness of the forest, she spots a break in the trees. A break outlined by the bright, red light of a campfire. Sakura slows down, keeping her steps light and silent as she slows to inspect this strange occurrence. She can detect the presence of something that could be human, so she drops down to a lower level of the thicker, winder branches closer to ground-level. She circles the clearing, inspecting it from different angles before drawing closer. Her wariness is rewarded by the presence of one human male, sitting close to his smokeless fire, gently cooking something that could be either a cat or a hare. She takes the time to observe him, inspecting his weapons, his large pack, long black cloak, and dark features. He looks tall, rakish-like, similar to Kakashi’s build. His shoulders are broad, well-muscled, and there’s a look of a warrior about him. If she had to guess his age, she would place him between mid to late thirties. His dark hair is long, hanging around his gaunt face in thin strands. Though he appears to be relaxing, she can see the wariness and alertness of his features. From the way he constantly inspects his surroundings, he’s either picked up on her presence or naturally on guard.

In an unhappy forest like this one, one would have to be a fool to relax.

Sakura decides to observe him. He should be falling asleep soon and if he leaves any of that hare, she quietly muses stealing it. Perhaps searching his pack would at least present field rations or a map of some kind. The large sword at his side gives her pause and she muses that perhaps she ought to move on. A lone warrior isn’t something she ought to be messing with, especially in her current state. A gust of wind could knock her down; a stranger like this could pose a real threat. Still, as civilization is probably a ways away and she’s losing energy fast… vandalizing a warrior’s pack sounds much better than a continuing trek through this ungodly forest in the dark of night. Darkness is a shinobi’s greatest friend, but she’s not sure she can brave it alone in her state.

Perhaps, should worst come to pass, she could approach him as a friendly party and kindly request directions. He doesn’t seem the friendly type, but there’s something about this man that makes her want to trust him. Sakura blames Naruto for making her so gullible to strangers. If she dies here, she’ll haunt him. Chains and all.

Settling down among the higher branches hidden in shadows, Sakura keeps her attention dispersed. Something tells her that, should she focus solely on the man below, he’ll notice her regard. As the nights deepens, the warrior finishes his dinner and hunkers down to rest. He’s irritatingly alert and Sakura wishes he were more incompetent. Remembering herself, she takes off her pack and fishes around. Almost exclaiming in joy, she finds several week’s worth of field rations. She nearly hits herself for not checking the contents of her own things; she would have checked the strangers pack before her own if he had fallen asleep earlier. As it is, she quietly open a protein bar and crunches into it in silence. Noticing the warrior has finally drifted off to sleep, she hovers uncertainly. Should she go down? Now that her appetite is settled, she’s starting to feel sleepy herself. The concussion’s lingering effects have made her drowsy after settling down and she finds herself hard-pressed to remain awake. Sleeping in a tree has never been her favorite practice when camping out in the field, but going down to the ground is out of the question. Having inspected her surroundings, the man clearly traveled on the ground and no living being Sakura’s size wandered around the treetops. If anything, the moss on all of the branches is insultingly undisturbed. A Konoha forest is not a forest if its branches aren’t well traveled by the ninja’s going about their business. The people of these parts clearly prefer to travel exclusively on foot on the ground; much like Sand or Mist ninja, who couldn’t be bothered to hop along the branches like the Leaf or Rock ninja did.

Being somewhat cautious, Sakura decides against tying herself to the tree. Though she would normally do this to avoid a nasty spill, she’s too wary of her surroundings to risk an extra second of stillness in exchange for safety from a fall. If she’s caught unawares, she needs to move fast. So she simply settles down with her pack against her lower back, keeping somewhat out of sight from the warrior beneath.

Sakura next awakens with a jolt to the aggressive sound of an arrowhead sinking into tree bark too close for comfort. She sits upright, hastening to find an escape route. With a sick feeling, she realizes that last night… the tree limb she’d been sitting on had been facing north-west. She’d still had the strange warrior in view. Now, she’s facing completely north as the sky breaks with dawn, completely hidden and unable to see the warrior. The shaking arrow is entirely on the other side of the tree instead of in her skull.

That’s one heck of a warning shot.

Wondering how the tree had twisted, probably saving her life, Sakura hesitantly stands. The wide shape of the tree keeps her mostly hidden, but an icy voice below barks a command. Sakura can’t quite catch what the warrior said, but it didn’t sound friendly. Kicking herself internally for her folly in failing to notice he’d woken up, she makes up her mind. Perhaps if she shows herself as harmlessly as possible, he’ll let her off the hook. In the hands of a fellow shinobi, there would have been no warning shot. A kunai to the jugular would have been her only alarm, so Sakura decides to trust that oddly lenient warning shot as her chance that perhaps she can walk away alive from his.

Hands cautiously raised, Sakura peers around the tree trunk.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Whatever had been watching him since last night clearly hadn’t been interested in theft or threat. The sense of being watched had put Aragorn on edge, and he’d half-slept to keep from being attacked entirely unawares. As dawn began to break and light filtered through the clearing, Aragorn decided it best to draw the creature out. He wanted to spies of Sauron on his tail with his plans to meet the ring bearer, so it was best to cut to the chase. Trusting his instincts, despite the fact he couldn’t see the creature, he shot at a tree in the north side of the clearing. As the arrow buried deep into the bark, there was a soft rustle among the leaves.

“Show yourself!” he orders in a growl, another arrow already firmly pointed at the direction of the noise. He’d missed by aiming too low, but it’s as good a warning shot as any.

It’s astonishing when a human hand appears, pale in the morning gloom. It’s followed by a pink head, the wildly colorful hair framing a pale face with wide green eyes. For a moment, Aragorn wonders if he’s awoken a forest fairy, spirit or God. It’s feminine features are uncommonly pretty, an almost elven face made up of colors that would put a spring field of flowers to shame. It peers out at him from behind a tree, holding up both hands as if to plead for mercy. Still, he’s never heard of a God with hair as pink as a cosmos, or with eyes as green as leaves. It shocks him even more when, as he gestures for it to come down from its perch, the creature vaults down from the forest gloom to land before him. Instead of breaking a leg from such a high jump, it lands poised like a cat, standing gracefully before him.

Though it wears a heavy black cloak, the creature still holds its hands up. Due to this, the cloak parts enough to he can study it with greater detail. It’s dressed entirely in black, with armor covering its chest and protective gauntlets over its forearms and wrists. It wears a pair of sturdy boots and, to his surprise, appears to have a feminine figure. It’s slim, almost frail, with heavy lashes around almond-shaped eyes. Despite all his travels, he’s never quite seen anything like it. It’s watching him warily, and he wonders if it’s a warrior or mercenary of some sort. Clearly, it’s human, but there was nothing human about it’s colorful hair or it’s ability to jump from high places. How had it gotten into the trees anyway? However, it’s disheveled state is what draws his curiosity even more. There are a series of cuts littering the little visible skin, and worse, he can see how she clearly favors her left leg and curls in slightly as if her ribcage is in pain. There’s a bruise on it’s exposed forehead as well, marring the pale skin like an ugly brand.

“Who are you? Who sent you?” he asks in a demanding tone. The creature’s brows come down in what appears to be puzzlement. “Where did you come from? Why are you spying on me?”

Looking more and more confused, the creature shakes its head, then rubs its ears. Aragorn wonders if perhaps it does not speak in Common. He tries the same questions in different languages, even making a poor attempt at Dwarven. It shakes its head again, its expression growing horrified.

It then speaks to him, in a high, female voice. He’d expected a singing voice, perhaps a seduction technique. Instead, its voice is human, simply speaking in an arrangement of sounds he’d never heard before. Even the accent is foreign to him, and he realizes its repeating the same sounds over and over. Perhaps it’s a chant or spell? He tightens his hold on his bow, aiming squarely at her chest. At this threatening gesture, the creature instantly grows silent. It’s staring intently at his chest and Aragorn recognizes a fighter’s attempt to gauge and preempt his attacks. His grip on the bow is taut, and just before he lets the arrow loose, the creature’s head snaps to his left over his shoulder. Hissing something in a low voice, it suddenly jumps away, back up onto a tree limb above. In his surprise, Aragorn shoots and stares in disbelief when the creature catches the shaft between two fingers mere inches from its face. It glances down at him with an eyebrow raised almost challengingly. Then, to his surprise, his previous arrow embedded in the tree falls suddenly. The arrow in the creature’s hand flips and it sends it back, the tip burying itself in the ground between his feet. In a whirl of leaves, the creature is gone.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sakura stares at the strange man as he snaps at her. He’s made a variety of sounds, which she supposes must be different dialects or languages, but she doesn’t understand him. Distressed, she tries to talk herself.

“Who are you? What is this place?” she repeats various times, hoping perhaps that his vast knowledge of languages would include hers. The five Nations had all one common tongue, so Sakura had never been versed in any languages apart from her own. When he suddenly grows more hostile, she instantly stops talking, staring warily at his chest. At this distance, her reaction time may not be enough to dodge or catch the arrow before it hits her. Worse, as he’s aiming toward her torso, it’s likely that, even if she dodges, she’ll get struck by the bolt.

The wind carries a hint of unwashed human somewhere south and the hushed sound of voices. Her gaze snaps to look for this advancing threat as her senses register the presence of more people. Something tells her that she wouldn’t like being caught between the warrior and more people, especially since she can’t even communicate properly with him!

Deciding it best to turn tail (and get some distance from those damn arrows), Sakura jumps back onto her tree. The sound of the bow snapping gives her enough time to snatch the missile, giving the warrior a cold look. He might have had the upper hand with that weapon at a closer distance, but being so far made it more or less pointless against her. Points for trying, though. In thanks for the trees protection of her, Sakura gently heals the wound made by the previous arrow. As the bark grows, it pushes the weapon out, leaving only an unblemished surface. To prove her point in the uselessness of his weapon now, she tosses his arrow right back at his feet. The warrior stares at the discarded arrow at his feet in surprise before looking back up.

She’s already gone. Three feet to the south and moving, she grins and she munches down on the remains of his dinner. It’s cold, but Sakura takes all the protein she can get. Spitting out the hare bones, she continues her trek toward her previous goal. As her meeting with the warrior had proved useful, she hadn’t taken his pack as well as his breakfast. Her ignorance of the local language would prove a problem, and worse, it showed exactly how far from home she was.

Growling under her breath, she wonders what the hell happened to bring her here.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Aragorn stares blandly at the spot once occupied by the creature. Clearly, it had to have been a spirit or a fairy, nothing he’d ever seen moved that fast. Sensing he is alone once more, unable to hear it moving about, he simply sets to picking up his belongings and set off. With mild surprise, he realizes the hare he’d left to eat for breakfast is gone. Deciding perhaps a fox or wolf got to it during the night, he simply packs up and disguises all trappings of a human encampment. Should anyone stumble onto this place, they’d never find the remains of his stay. As he recovers his pack, he thinks over his encounter with the creature with greater care. Something didn’t quite sit right with him when it had spoken, and he belatedly realizes what it is. When he’d spoken, everything he had said had been a question. And when it had responded, despite the foreign words, he could have sworn that before it paused and started anew, the last word held a slight intonation. A lower, then higher note, if you will, one he commonly recognized across all the languages he had ever learnt.

The creature had been asking him a question.

As he walks south towards Bree, his brows knit in confusion. Whatever it had been saying, it had not been a chant as he had first assumed. Like himself, it had been asking him a question; repeating it over and over… perhaps in hope he’d know what it was trying to say. In his experience, spirits and fairies didn’t bother with most mortals. Engrossed in his thoughts, it takes Aragorn a while to notice something strange in the forest. This deep, apart from the clearing behind him, the trees should be crowding around him like hostile sardines. Instead, as if pushed by an invisible hand, the trees toward the south seemed to be gone. His path to Bree is near clear-cut, as though one of the Gods had gently pushed the foliage aside. Senses going into high alert, he reaches subtly for his sword, glancing about. There are no tracks besides those of the forest, but this sudden space is making him uneasy. He’d crossed this path before between the Shire and Bree, and the forest had always been densely populated by old, somewhat belligerent trees and shrubs. He’d heard many a tale of the Old Forest simply swallowing travelers, and in this small outcropping of trees, the sentient magic of those ancient woods had grown in influence. He keeps his blade sheathed, to keep the looming behemoths appeased, but something is amiss. As he walks with deliberate slowness, he begins to hear the murmur of voices. His head snaps in that direction and he’s alarmed to note that… the creature had done the same earlier. It had looked over his shoulder, southward. The creature had noticed, and so fled, that they were not alone in the forest. Wanting to kick himself for not noticing sooner, Aragorn flees to the nearest copse of trees. To his bewilderment, the trees don’t get any closer the further he walks. Alarmed, Aragorn stops dead in his tracks.

Just as three scavengers walk around the bend ahead, all of them spotting him as he spots them. Their mouths open into ungainly smiles, delighted at the prospect of a lonesome traveler. Suspecting that the woods may have lead the men here, he curses softly under his breath. He shouldn’t have shot the tree back in the clearing… Deciding to stall for time, he calls to the scavengers. As long as they don’t draw any weapons, Aragorn prefers to use words. He knows that his skills would far outmatch them, but he’s never liked fighting against Men.

“Ho, there, travelers. Could you kindly direct me to Bree?” The men laugh raucously, as Aragorn stands with his left hand outstretched. Behind him, his left hand gently loosens his sword in its sheath. “I’ve not much money and I could use a place to rest.”

“No’ much money, ‘e says.” One of the scavengers mocks, grinning widely. The others chuckle maliciously, and Aragorn resists the urge to unsheathe his sword threateningly. They converge on him, knives drawn, and he falls back. As the first of them lunges, Aragorn swiftly dodges and brings out his sword in one clean move. The men hesitate at the sight of an elven blade, but the price of such a treasure incites them to attack even more ferociously. Aragorn parries the second man’s knife and kicks the third in the knee, spinning to keep all three of them in his line of sight. The men are used to fighting as a team and they constantly move about as they attack, making Aragorn rely heavily on his footwork to avoid a surprise. When an opening presents itself, he manages to duck into the first scavenger’s defenses, burying his blade hilt-deep even as he grimaces apologetically. The feeling of movement behind him makes him turn, already drawing his blade out of the body in one clean swipe.

But for naught.

Behind him stands the forest spirit, cloaked and holding the two remaining scavengers as though they are dolls. One of the men lays on the floor, his neck savaged, his head kept aloft by the creature’s hand it his hair. The other hangs almost a foot in the air, wriggling wildly in its hold. The spirit looks back at him, green eyes vivid and fierce. There seems to be a question in them as it presents him with the third and only living scavenger. Like a cat presenting its owner with a near-dead bird or mouse, asking for permission to kill it. Aragorn nods, then wonders if a nod means the same thing to the creature as it does to him. He starts and stares when the spirit simply uses one finger to the side of the man’s head to tilt and casually break his neck.

It then seems to sigh and drops both men. It turns fully to him, with Aragorn wondering if it will now kill him too. The trees around him seem to gather, as though gleefully expecting his demise. Instead, the creature claps its hands together, as though saying “that’s that!” and simply vanishes in a swirl of leaves. The Rangers stares about, startled and confused, but decides it would perhaps be best to get out of these woods. The trees seem particularly bloodthirsty this time, and if that creature lives here, he’d rather not remain about like a sitting duck. He’s a week early to when Gandalf told him he’d arrive at the Prancing Pony with the hobbits, but making due haste wouldn’t hurt anyone. So, Aragorn beats a hasty retreat from the haunted woods and their frightening battle God.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sakura watches from her hiding spot in the canopy above. Since that morning, the woods around her seemed to have taken an odd liking to her. After all, her sleeping tree had taken an arrow for her. Perhaps because when she moved about their branches, she was polite, avoiding thin branches, bee hives, bird’s nests and butterfly cocoons. The trees sentience still bothers her, considering she had actually witnessed them actively corner the warrior below. Worse, she can feel the branches and boughs bend, as though hiding her from the stranger’s prying eyes. Her forests were her home, but this is a little beyond her limitations of understanding. She is glad they’d grown fond of her. She hated to think what they would do to her if she angered them like the dark warrior now running at a loping pace. Choosing to keep him in her sights, Sakura touches each near branch in thanks, and scuttles off before she thinks too hard about it.

It seems there’s civilization ahead, and perhaps she can find answers there.

#Misplaced Blossom #fanfiction #crossover #Naruto #Lord of the Rings #LotR #story

2 notes · View notes

blackkatmagic · 7 years ago

Text

Minato/Nagato Prompts

Minato/Nagato:

· Minato and Nagato on the same genin team. We know literally nothing about Minato’s teammates, so who’s to say Nagato couldn’t have been one of them in a world where the Ame trio followed Jiraiya back to Konoha?

· How about Minato/Nagato coffee shop AU. Where the original Akatsuki own the coffee shop Minato likes to frequent. Mutual pining and maybe Kushina does something to make Minato make a move, probably something horribly embarrassing but effective at getting him to move his ass cause she is getting sick of all the pining and good friends help each other ya know.

· May I request young Minato/Nagato and how Minato falls for him?? Modern au maybe

· Nagato/minato where both boys compete for there sensies attention even though they have long sense grown out of genin days they resort to nothing short of pretween pettiness

· Minato/Nagato, where they both met as being Jiraiya's students?

· I think a Minato/Nagato arranged marriage where Kushina is Pissed (up to you the reason why) until she learns that Minato's betrothed is a long lost cousin and also Minato reminds her that she's been pining over Mikoto for a while now and as Mikoto is one of the bodyguards assigned to the procession this is Kushina's perfect chance. Also when Minato lays eyes on Nagato there's an "oh. he's hot." moment as well as affection that this powerful man he's going to be married to is *shy*.

· Minato/Nagato. Minato has a type, okay? It seems to mostly be "Do they have red hair and are an Uzumaki? Yes? then they're a 100/10". He had a crush on Kushina when they were kids, and now her cousin shows up, and HOT DAMN! How is a simple man like Minato supposed to not fall head over heels for this guy? He covers all the bases. Pretty? Check. Nice? Check. Really strong? Double check! And if Nagato's heart nearly stopped when he first saw Minato because HOLY COW, well, no one needs to know?

· minato/nagato nagato accidentally resurrects the yondaime after his fight w naruto (from the chakra imprint or w/e it was minato left on the kyuubi's seal that naruto triggered when he tried to remove the seal)

· Minato/Nagato, teenage crush please! Canon setting or any AU you fancy.

· How about nagato/minato? With kushina and konan all but locking them in a closest cause their both too damn nervous

· Minato/Nagato where Minato's a single dad at a parent-teacher night and Nagato's a teacher

· Nagato/Minato, lawyers. Nagato is from Europe, Minato is from the US, and they discover they both had the same professor, who taught at more than one university over the course of his career. Maybe they meet over merger negotiations, or it's Konan vs. Minato in U.S. court and she's convinced Nagato to come to the states with her because he's been working too hard?

· Minato/Nagato where Minato chooses a mission to Ame bc Jiraya's drunken ramblings, and ends up a) charming Nagato into a more sustainable and sensible world betterment program (government, education, health care, etc.) b) gets there before the Hanzo/Root thing (timeline? what is that?)

· I keep thinking Minato/Nagato at an ice rink would be super cute?

· Minato/Nagato "you're too quiet during sex so my goal today is to make you scream"

Minato/Nagato ATLA AU

#prompt list #to writing #my writing #minanaga #nagato #minato

42 notes · View notes

arrowsbane · 7 years ago

Text

Chase the Sky (Into the Ocean)

Rating: T

Wordcount: 2409

Prompt: Prompt 3: Witches and Wizards (non-Harry Potter) for @sumigakure

Notes: AU. Took the concept of non-HP Witch/Wizards and ran with the idea of magic being innate and fueled by nature/mixing humans with myths.

Also for @satire-please, because they love Iruka as much as I do, and Otters are cute. <3

Summary: Umino Iruka is born with salt in his veins and the sound of the ocean in his heart. The current drags him down, it does not let him go. Because what belongs to the sea, must return to the sea. The breathing underwater is new though. [FFN | AO3]

Umino Iruka is born with salt in his veins and the sound of the ocean in his heart.

He grows up in a landlocked country, in a dry forested village where the only water to be found is in rivers and lakes. There is no salty tang on the evening air, there is no push and pull of the tide. The water is still and lifeless.

He fights for a village that was cousin to his homeland and wields flame and earth as his teachers insist; but still his heritage pulls through, and he holds his head high when the chakra paper his Jonin-sensei hands him turns into a sodden pulp. He may live amongst fire and leaves, but he is of sea and sky and the endless reach of the horizon. There is no shame in this.

He makes genin, and he thinks his parents would have been proud. So he pushes harder. The memory of his mother’s smile and his father's’ laughter at his back. He makes chunin, and winds up teaching academy students. He doesn’t care what Mizuki says (and there’s jealousy in his old friend’s voice), or the teasing he gets from Izumo and Kotetsu – as far as he cares, corralling a herd of baby ninja is a serious job, and it’s one he’s proud to do.

Hell, he can catch Naruto. Considering how the boy can outwit ANBU on his good days, that’s certainly something to brag about over drinks down at the bar on a Friday night. Okay, so it might have something to do with how he stole one of the boys’ shirts once and regularly bribes his summons with anchovies, but nobody needs to know that.

Water twists and bends to his will, always the push and pull. The muscles in his legs snap taut, his arms raising up so he’s stood in a basic stance. It’s his last resort, it’s what most people think happens when you combine the Nara bloodline with the insanely strong water-nature.

They’re wrong. It’s got nothing to do with the Nara, and everything to do with why the Umino clan was to Uzushio, as the Uchiha are to Konoha.

The current drags him down, down, down. Away from the enemy, away from death. Away from fire and lightning, away from the cold steel and the bite of a katana. He tastes salt in his mouth and kicks furiously at the riptide. It does not let him go.

Because what belongs to the sea, must return to the sea.

The breathing underwater is new though.

One week previously…

Iruka rolls out of bed just as the sun peeks over the horizon. He’s always been a ridiculously early riser, something that his summons are most certainly not. There’s a stubborn whine coming from inside the cover of a stolen pillow, and Iruka smirks.

“Sango.” He says, eyeing the oddly-shaped piece of bedding, “Up.”

“Go ‘way,” comes a petulant female voice. Iruka rolls his eyes, picking up a fresh change of clothes and heading into the bathroom to clean his teeth, ignoring the chirping whines that echo from the bedroom.

The old showerhead shudders as he turns the water on, and then hot water sprays from the nozzle, drenching him. After a few minutes, his trained hearing detects a scuffle coming from outside of the room, and then a thud of something distinctly not wood hitting the floor. There’s the familiar clicking of claws on tile, and a streak of brown as Sango happily dives into the shower, twisting herself around his ankles. It’s only habit that keeps him from tripping over her.

“I thought you were still sleeping?” He teases the she-otter, and receives a grumble in reply as she pushes against his ankle.

“Can we have tuna for breakfast?” Sango asks, ignoring his jab over her laziness.

“You had tuna for dinner,” He grumbles, rinsing the last of the scent-less conditioner from his hair, and reaching blindly for the towel before turning off the shower. Sango grumbles again over the loss of the water.

“So?”

“So not everybody lives on fish.” Iruka reminds her, thinking about his lesson plans for the day.

“Heathens,” is her simplistic reply. In Sango’s mind, anybody who dislikes seafood is an enemy and not to be trusted. It’s rather common for her clan. Iruka ignores her, squeezing the water from his hair with the towel.

“So can we?” The only response she gets is a towel dropped on her head.

He winds up cooking omelet and grilled salmon. The kettle whistles sharply, and he pours a cupful of hot water, mixing in the matcha powder to make green tea. Paper rustles as Sango emerges from where she was rooting around in the empty salmon container – because even though he’s given her an otter-sized portion, she still wants to be thorough. She’s got a silver scale stuck to her nose and he’s not going to be the one to tell her.

Grade books, check. Lesson plans, check. Bento? Headband in place? Check and check. Insane otter companion? Wait…

“Sango, what are you doing in my bag?” The sow smiles cheerfully up at him.

“What does it look like?” She says, “I’m coming with you.”

Iruka sighs heavily, and gives her a look. No, just no.

“This isn’t a negotiation,” She declares imperiously, and for a second Iruka can see her mother’s temperament shining through. It really isn’t worth it. There’s a reason otter’s have a similar reputation to the kitsune.

He sighs, and hauls the bag onto his shoulder – otter and all – before locking the window behind him, and leaping onto the roof of the neighboring building. Tiny otter squeals of delight come from the satchel, and he can’t help but smile at Sango’s childishness.

He lands on the roof of the academy, sliding down the side of the building using very precise chakra control and unlocks the classroom window from the outside.

Doors are for civilians.

And boring people.

“Do not,” Iruka tells her firmly, as he sets the bag down on the floor, “terrorize my students.”

“Not even a little bit?” And goddamn, she’s not a dog, how is she pulling off the puppy-dog face. He sighs (a common occurrence for him), and rubs at his face.

“Nothing I can be blamed for,” he concedes, checking the desk and surrounding area for traps, just in case a certain orange-loving pre-teen had visited in the night. Satisfied that everything is safe, or at the very least not going to leave him covered in itching powder, Iruka opens the classroom door for the day and settles into his morning routine.

While Sango entertains herself by inspecting his students as they walk through the door – The responses varying between: “I didn’t know you had summons Iruka-sensei?” and “Holy crap. A talking otter!” That kid was practically asking to be bitten, - he unpacks his bag for the day, shuffling through the papers to find the homework he’ll be handing back. Absently, he opens a drawer to put his bento away, and then reconsiders. Iruka unscrews the cap of his ink, and dips the tip of his brush in it, painting a careful preservation seal across the top of the bento. Naruto can be vicious when he’s bored, and Iruka never wants to end up with a mouthful of mealworms ever again.

It’d taken him a while, but eventually he’d managed to recreate the seal his mother used to ink onto the family bentos to keep the food fresh and pristine.

(Even now, painting the circle of kanji reminds him of his mother’s smile, and the way his father used to ruffle his hair on the way out the door in the morning.

And okay, so the first dozen tries at recreating the seal on his lunchbox had failed; including one spectacular explosion that had led to there being fragments of sushi all over the kitchen. He’d had to summon an entire romp of Otters to sniff out the tiny pieces, so his apartment wouldn’t end up stinking of rotten fish. The downside was that the little pests had declared rice and nori to be acceptable, and frequently demand sushi whenever he called on them.

If they weren’t family…

Well, that’s the whole reason he wound up contracting them anyway, isn’t it?)

After his parents died, Iruka had almost drowned in the loneliness that came from living in a house empty of everything but memories. The room his parents had slept in was untouched, the door still flung open from where his mother had quickly rushed out to grab her battlegear.

A year later, and the only reason he’d even gone in there was because he’d torn a shirt, and needed the repair kit that lived in the nightstand on the right side of the bed. He hadn’t meant to, but his fingers had brushed over the slim scroll that sat next to the kit – trimmed with a delicate blue border of waves, in which otters happily frolicked. The same scroll that Ikkaku had fashioned to teach him how to summon only days before the Kyuubi had ruined everything. Tears well up, and he pulls the scroll from the drawer and cradles it to his chest.

Iruka’s tiny trembling hands break the wax seal and unwind the vellum, to reveal the summoning kanji. Even though it’s marked for Tadahiro, his father’s companion, Iruka knows that with his small reserves he’ll probably end up with one of the male otter’s pups.

It’d be worth it though. For even a tiny piece of what used to be.

He lays the scroll flat on the floor, bites his thumb and channels a spike of chakra into the seal. Smoke poofs into being, clearing to reveal a familiar face. Dark eyes blink up at him from a furry face, and paper rustles as a tail thumps in greeting.

“Hey Sango,” Iruka says, smiling sadly, recognizing the otter as his childhood playmate. The adolescent sow shuffles forwards, and clambers into his lap, pressing her snout into the crook of his neck.

“Iru-chan.” Iruka tastes salt on his lips, and he realizes he’s crying.

But for the first time in a year, they’re happy tears.

The call for the mission comes as he’s finishing up for the week at the Academy, and so Iruka heads on home to swap out his teaching bag with his go-bag. Sango isn’t too happy about being dismissed to the summoning realm, but she knows the drill as well as him.

Within an hour, he’s got his assignment and is sprinting out of the village gates.

He doesn’t know it yet, but he’s heading straight into a trap.

C-ranks. Why is it always C-ranks? Iruka wonders, dodging the blow of a katana.

Turns out, there’s more than a few ex-kiri nin with a grudge to bear, and Iruka’s the poor sap who got the wrong end of the stick.

He dodges the explosive tags, and the shuriken, but he doesn’t dodge the blow to the gut and skids back ever-closer to the cliff-edge. There’s a shout from his right, and then all Iruka knows is bright light and too-much-sound, and he’s falling, falling, falling.

Iruka hits the water in a painful crash, and it knocks the breath from his lungs. Somewhere above, he imagines he hears a crow of victory before the laws of physics take over and he sinks beneath the waves.

Because what belongs to the sea, must return to the sea.

The breathing underwater is new though.

Iruka wakes up to the strange sensation of being weightless, his eyes open to see the dazzling effect that sunlight creates when it passes through water. The reef could never have been so beautiful until now.

The reef.

He flails and panics, desperately holding his breath and why is he not drowning before reality sinks in and Iruka accepts that strange is relative in the world of very obvious ninja. The Uchiha breathe fire with an ease that makes the stories of them being descended from a dragon seem possible, the Shodaime talked to trees, the Niidaime and Yondaime could both teleport.

There’s whispers that magic was known, not just known, but used and channeled into great feats of ingenuity in Uzushiogakure before it was destroyed - that magic augmented the Uzumaki seals beyond anything an ordinary human could do. In retrospect, breathing underwater, while extremely handy, is not such a big thing.

A shoal of tiny orange and white fish swim across his field of vision, and Iruka blinks, watching the reef come to life around him. It’s like a kaleidoscope of color as fish of all kinds surf the currents.

A nudge at his forearm has him looking down to see a pufferfish cozying up to his side. Tentatively, Iruka opens his fist and lifts his palm to the fish, rubbing his fingers across the soft spines. The small spiny fish releases a string of bubbles, and he gets the distinct feeling that it is happy.

Iruka returns home to Konoha, with a new skillset under his belt, and spends his evenings with a raft of Otters in the hotsprings. Chitters and squeals of delight about, as his non-human family realize that now he can play even more game with them.

Iruka finds himself taking more missions to water country than anywhere else, the knowledge that he is safe below the Ocean’s surface kept a sure secret. It’s his secret. His, and only his.

It’s another three months or so before the reason clicks into place inside his head. Iruka wants nothing more than to smack his head repeatedly against the old wooden desk. Because of course, that’s it. What’s in a name? Apparently everything, goddammit.

Umino.

Of the Sea.

The first Umino was bound to the Ocean by blood and by magic.

That’s why the water-affinity is so strong, that’s why the sea has been calling to him since before he could remember. It’s why he can breathe under water, why he learnt to swim before he could walk – and Iruka vaguely remembers his father sitting in an overlarge bathtub with him, a hand under his infant belly while his mother watched curiously.

It makes sense.

It feels right.

Konoha is his home, is the fire in his soul and the strength in his bones; but the Ocean is the salt in his veins and its current is the beat of his heart.

Two worlds. Both are his.

There’s old magic in nature, and there’s magic in the clans. Name aside, who would ever expect a ninja from fire country to be so strongly tied to the sea?

‘Yeah’, Iruka thinks, stroking a hand over Sango’s fur that night, ‘I can work with that.’

Possibly TBC… who knows.

#sumigakure halloween event 2017 #sumigakure halloween event 2017: prompt 3 #sumiagkure

25 notes · View notes

luna-orlha · 8 years ago

Text

Title: A Thousand Times Good Night Fandom: Naruto Genre: Angst ; Hurt/Comfort ; Romance Ship: Kakashi/Sakura Characters: Hatake Kakashi, Haruno Sakura, Yamato Tenzo, Namikaze Minato, Hatake Sakumo Word count: 6862 Triggers(s): Depression Rating: M Additional Tags: reincarnation, immortality, soulmates Summary: He is cursed to walk the world until the end of time and she is cursed to die forever before 21 until one of them can break the curse. He tries and tries, then he finally succeeds. Suggested Soundtrack: https://youtu.be/-o1GhagfY7E

Ao3

Kakashi scrubs his arm in the sink. There is rage burning beneath his skin and self-loathing curdling at the base of his throat.

You were supposed to protect her.

He scrubs, trying to remove the non-existent blood off his arm. His lungs are heaving as he scrubs harder, flecks of blood edging under his nails, bits of skin peeling off where the sponge has scoured it off. How many more times did he have to go through this? How many more times did he have to watch her die? To fall in love with her again and lose her?

The words that he can never voice out sit at the base of his throat like acid.

He’s so tired, so very tired and the worst part is that he can’t even end it.

Kakashi slides down the wall, slamming his head against the blue tiles with an exhausted heave. His henge wavers and with a twist of his chakra, he dispels the henge that he had been wearing for a better part of the decade. He still looks like himself when his family was still alive, when Sakura was still alive, when he was still killable, he still looks the same as he did two kami damned hundred years ago. Kakashi palms his face, feeling the scar that runs across his eye.

Funny how his original self has the same identical wound, except with the curse, his eye never did get destroyed. The sharingan eye wasn’t an add-on Kakashi had wanted.

Not then, not now.

He had been here before Konoha was founded, he had been here during the clan wars where the Uchihas fought, he had been here when the tailed beasts roamed the lands. The Uchihas had never been the kindest clans, proud and arrogant. Like he was, like he is.

In the forest, he had been so arrogant of his own skills to get her out alive, that he never once considered that Sakura would have thrown herself in front of him. That Sakura, that Rin, in this lifetime was far more reckless and uncaring of her own damn life.

“You will regret the day you broke your vows. I curse you. I curse you, Hatake – to walk the earth until she can live past twenty-one, and you-” Blood spilling down her face as she smiles. “-Hatake Sakura, I curse you to always die before twenty-one.” She laughs, in spite of the seal sucks her into it.

He picks up the lamp and swings it with a loud scream, slamming it repeatedly into the wall.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Tears pour down Kakashi’s face.

Stupid, stupid, stupid man. You deserve to walk the earth alone until you’re the only one left. So stupid!

-/-/-/-

He’s sitting in the bar, chugging down the sake when Minato takes a seat beside him.

“Don’t think I didn’t know you’ve henged yourself to look older,” Minato says.

Kakashi only grunts. It’s not a henge when it’s your actual damned self, he bites back the thoughts and slams the cup down onto the table. Kakashi raises the bottle at the bartender, but Minato waves off the new bottle.

“You’re done,” Minato tells him. “You’re thirteen, you shouldn’t be drinking.”

“Olddd enoough to kill, old enough to drrink-”

“Not about the legalities, more about your growing body.”

Kakashi hasn’t been thirteen in a damn long time or even had someone that cared for him this way.

Sakura did, his traitorous mind reminds himself. Rin, Tsutsuji, Renge, Sakura. The girl with pink hair.

He lets his head plonk onto the cold marble top, too tired to push Minato away as Minato slings him across his shoulder. “How in kami’s name is your henge this solid?” Minato grunts. Kakashi only chuckles, letting Minato drag him only. The fuzziness dragging down until he can’t keep his eyes open anymore.

-/-/-/-

He wakes up and sees Tsutsuji braiding her pink hair beside him. Her lips twist in concentration as she reaches the bottom edges.

“Good morning love.” He presses his lips on the small of her back and she yips like he knows she would.

“Mou! Sakumo! I told you to stop that. Look at my braid now!” she huffs but doesn’t stop him from pressing kisses up her spine.

He feels the call of their bond stronger with each day. It’s almost time.

He runs his hands through her fine hair, unravelling the plait then deftly braiding it in the way he knows she loves. Tens and tens of reincarnations later and her favorite style has stayed the same all these times.

“I love you,” he says.

She cups his face, her green eyes scrutinizing his. “What’s wrong sweetheart?”

“I just love you very much.” He tucks his face in the crook of her neck.

Tsutsuji combs his hair with her hands, slinging her arm around his waist. “And I love you too, Sakumo,” she tells him, his name is a soft whisper on the wind.

He pretends that his arms are not shaking. This time, this lifetime, he will protect her and they will be free. She will be free.

-/-/-/-

The dust motes are dancing in a light beam through the window when Kakashi wakes up. His head complains as he pushes himself up.

Minato is sitting at the table, going through his paperwork. This scene is becoming a regular occurrence ever since Rin’s death - him getting dragged back by Minato, then waking up in his office as Minato works himself to death.

Oh. He’s not the only one grieving. Of course Minato would grieve too. He, too, lost two teammates, Kakashi realises. Pressing his hand to his eyes, he tries to stop the throbbing in his head. Minato’s grief is not the same as his. It’ll never be the same as his. Two hundred odd years later and he’s still trying to break the curse; two hundred odd years later and he’s still falling in love with the same woman.

Some nights Kakashi hates Sakura so much. He hates her for putting him through this, for not listening to him, for putting herself in stupid risks. Some nights, Kakashi only remembers the warmth of her head in the crook of his arm, her feet tangled with his, the weight of her body on his, the sound of her soul singing next to his.

That… is probably the only good thing that came out of this whole shithole.

Kakashi sighs and Minato looks up, raising an eyebrow.

“You alright?” Minato asks, his pen pauses in mid-writing.

Kakashi stares blankly at him, at the blond man that he knew as a baby. He was called Sakumo then, or was he? With him changing his name every few decades, it’s hard to keep track. Before Sakumo, he was Hatake Kousaku. Yes, that sounds right.

“Kakashi?” Minato pushes to his feet and walks over to him slowly and carefully. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” He hates it when anyone tries to treat him gently like he’s glass. Kakashi is strong like metal. Tempered by the wind and rain, folded over and over again like the metal they use for katanas. Kakashi doesn’t remind himself of how easily his chakra tanto had broken in the second shinobi war.

“You were gone for five consecutive anbu missions and then I was notified that you were using a henge to get wasted at a bar again. That’s not fine, Kakashi.”

Kakashi shakes off Minato’s hand. He is made of metal, strong and cold. He has withstood tens and tens of Sakura’s deaths.

But not one by your hand, his mind snidely quips.

“I will be,” he insists.

Then he feels it. There’s a small fire, burning and lighting the hollow feeling in his chest, calling his soul to hers. It’s Sakura again. Kakashi pulls a terse breath, the tight line on his shoulders melting. Another rebirth, another attempt.

Are you going to kill her again, Friend-killer?

No! I’m not a friend-killer!

He remembers Rin impaled on his arm, her smile as her eyes closed, the blood dribbling from her lips.

“Rin!”

Kakashi forces himself to take slow breaths, uncaring for Minato’s concerned eyes. He’s been doing something wrong all this time. Letting himself create a clone to match Sakura’s reincarnation age, using a henge. Maybe he shouldn’t be a friend or a lover. Part of him clenches as Kakashi rolls the idea in his mind. To hold himself aloof from her, to not appreciate the brief moments he had with her.

Yes, he can do it. He will do it if it will save her.

-/-/-/-

Kakashi can feel Kurama’s chakra pressing down on him as he leaps from roof to roof. After all the years of being sealed in a prison, he could guess that Kurama had the right to be angry, furious even, but still in his worst moments, there never had been that underlying strand of insanity.

He leaps closer to the towering fox, hoping to reach out in some way.

“My baby!” The woman sobs. “She’s not breathing. Akito, baby-”

Kakashi halts in his steps and jumps down, cursing his bleeding heart. With what limited medical diagnostic skill he has, he checks the baby. Chakra corruption, the civilian baby hadn’t stood a chance, not without a shinobi-

His thoughts falters, gaping at the sudden withdrawal. Cold fear clamps on him as he reaches out to his bond.

Sakura!

Sakura was born to a civilian family, she wouldn’t have-

He takes a wavering step towards where Sakura’s soul beckons for him and tilts his head to Kurama, to Minato jumping back and forth to stop the destruction.

Minato will be fine, his mind urges him. Minato is the Yellow Flash of Konoha, the fourth Hokage. He will be fine.

Yea, why would he worry for Minato? The man’s like a cockroach.

Kakashi continues jumping frantically to where Sakura’s soul beats, further and further away from Kurama, never once looking back.

-/-/-/-

Minato? Minato! He wakes with a gasp. Kakashi can still smell the smoke and dust even three days after the Kyuubi attack. Kurama hadn’t been this violent the last time he saw him. He leans his head against his knees with a sigh, but the Kurama he met back then hadn’t been locked away for years.

What was the point of being the oldest ninja ever to walk the earth if he couldn’t so much as save his precious people? Everyone that he had grown to love had passed by him. Tsunade left, Dan died, Sakura died, Tobirama died, Hashirama died, Izuna died.

How pathetic. Kakashi remembers the little blond boy when he was called Sakumo. He had practically raised Minato and Minato in turn, after his untimely ‘demise’ tried to do same for him as Kakashi.

Everyone died without him. Why is it never him?

“Hatake!”

The breath in his chest stills.

“Hatake! Hatake Noroyoshi.” He turns to see the angry pink haired woman glaring at him. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Hatake!” The brown haired boy shakes him. Namiashi Raidou, he thinks, is his name.

“Namiashi?” he chokes out. Yes, there weren’t enough lodgings to go around after the attack so he was put to share a tent with Namiashi.

“Are you back?” Raidou asks. “You stopped breathing there for several minutes.”

“Yes,” he says through clenched teeth. He doesn’t explain and Raidou doesn’t ask.

The barely-chuunin boy, instead hands him six onigiris and a small bowl of miso soup. “I got breakfast, figured you’d want them hot. Plus we need to fall in in about an hour.”

Wordlessly, Kakashi bites into the onigiri. The sour taste of the umeboshi fills his mouth.

“Sakuuura! Umeboshi filling again?” he whines. “Your umeboshi is so sour!”

The pink-haired woman pinches his cheek. “I’d like to see you try to make umeboshi.”

“But honnney! I don’t like umeboshi!”

“But I do. And I’m the one cooking, so there.”

Minato just died and he’s sitting here thinking about Sakura. Obito was right after all. He is self-centered.

-/-/-/-

Kakashi tries not to think of the little four year-old girl with pink hair. He dodges the Kumo-nin’s blade, striking shurikens out of the air with his own.

He remembers seeing Sakura flinching at the older girls’ words. Sakura had never been afraid of words.

Twisting his body in mid-air, Kakashi flashes through his hand seals, summoning his all-time favourite chidori.

It had taken him in his Anbu uniform staring at the bullies to shoo them away and even then Sakura hadn’t been able to properly vocalise her thanks. It bothered him. Sakura without him around is different. She smiles less and laughs less.. Where had the fiery personality that Sakura always had, gone to?

He slips. The Kumo-nin’s face blooms into a gloating sneer as the chakra coated blade slides through Kakashi’s chest and out his back. Fatal, or would have been fatal had it not been for the curse. Kakashi chokes, using the shinobi’s momentarily lapse in concentration to pierce the chidori through his stomach.

120.

“Taichou!” He hears Yamato yell, landing beside him and flipping him over, trying desperately to channel medical chakra into his chest. “Taichou!”

80.

I’ll be fine, he wants to say, but his heart has stopped beating. It’ll mend and restart in a minute. Except his lungs have stopped working and there’s no air to speak. Yamato is crying and he tries to lift his hand to ruffle his hair but he can’t.

60.

“Did he-” Genma starts and stops. “We have to-”

Kakashi hears the leaves crunching beside him and his anbu mask is peeled off.

20.

“Of course he wears his mask under his anbu mask,” Raidou laughs with a sob. “You know, we should just check if he has fish lips under that.”

Genma chokes back a half laugh. “You never know he might just come back to life just to-”

The chakra in his body circulates, shocking his heart back to life, and Kakashi opens his eyes with a gasp.

“By the kage!” Raidou swears, his kunai is half raised when Kakashi jerks awake.

“What in the kami’s name was that!? You were dead!” Genma grabs onto him and pats him down. “What the fuck?”

“I see I’m preferred to be dead,” Kakashi wheezes out.

“But you were dead!” Genma presses his finger on Kakashi’s veins.

“Well?” Raidou asks.

“Well… He is definitely alive,” Genma says reluctantly, releasing his wrist. “You were dead! He was, wasn’t he?”

“Well clearly I’m not.” He hasn’t died this close to anyone for a very long time, not since Tobirama and Tobirama was hardly a standard to set by. Would he have to kill them to protect his secret? Kakashi fiddles with his kunai pouch in pretense of re-arming himself with the used blades. They were… are his friends. He can’t, he won’t kill them just because it is easier for him.

“The blade shredded your heart.” Yamato stares at him. “Unless there was a proper med-nin here, there was no chance of your survival at all. You should have died.”

And I wish I did, Kakashi doesn’t say. It’s not like he’s going to succeed anyway, not after the last hundred and one attempts on his life. It was how he as Sakumo had walked through the fields of dead casually and how he had brought his team back whole each time. Instead, he straightens his armor and looks at the dead shinobi with a curl of his lips.

“Are you going to tell?” he asks the three, heart beating loudly in his ears.

There is a pause, a shift of cloth, and Genma hooks his neck with an arm. “Are you stupid? Of course not.”

-/-/-/-

“Don’t do this, Tsutsuji. Please,” Sakumo begs though he knows it would be futile. Sakura has never been one to sit on the sidelines. She is brazen and bright like the sun, never faltering in the face of danger. Truly, he loves her for that but he can’t lose her, not when they are only two years away from the curse from being broken.

Tsutsuji, like all Sakura’s reincarnations, doesn’t give in. Wordlessly, she packs her mission bag and places her hand on his cheek. “Sakumo, I love you but you act like I’m not a capable ninja myself.” She kisses him and holds him tight. “It’s only two weeks, sweetheart. I’m an A rank ninja of my own right. I can handle an S rank mission.”

Sakumo hugs her fiercely, presses a kiss into her pink hair. “I love you,” he says in a strangled voice, knowing that it’ll probably be the last time he is saying that to her. He feels it in his bones, the tightening around his throat.

“I love you too.” She smiles fondly at him, strokes his cheek then turns. “I’ll be back before you know it!”

He watches her swing her pack over her shoulders, watches her back fade into the distance and knows that he’s not going to let her die. Not this time.

-/-/-/-

Sakumo cuts the first ninja down, his chakra sabre is a white streak in the darkness. He stands there panting, blood dripping down his sabre. He should be full of anger or grief, but he can’t find anything in him to dredge up. Her pink hair spills across the cold rock, her eyes gazing up, unseeing.

He’s failed again.

Sakumo chuckles. His shoulders shaking as his chuckles grow into a hollow laugh.

Again and again and again.

Somewhere in him knows that it was a hopeless quest to begin with. How long has he been trying? He can’t remember. He can’t remember his original name. The only thing that has stayed the same through the hundred of years has been his family name.

There are no more emotions left in him. Loving a woman and having her die over and over again; he has done this for over two hundred years, he can’t do this another time.

He drops in front of her body, closing her eyes, and presses a kiss on her bloodied temple. “Good night, sleep well.”

-/-/-/-

“Kakashi, you are going to take Team seven and you will pass them.” Hiruzen gives him a piercing stare.

Hiruzen giving him a straight-out order. Regardless of it being forty years later, Kakashi still can’t get over the inside joke. He’s getting old reminiscing things that happened decades ago. The sky is slowly flushed with streaks of red, painting the rooftops with a lucent glow. He has walked past every resident in this village, watched them grow from diapers to walking sticks. Is it fate that keeps bringing Sakura and him together, despite of him avoiding her like a plague? He hadn’t sought Sakura out when he stumbled upon her crying in the flower field, he hadn’t asked to be on the team that watched over Sakura, Naruto and the two clan heirs playing in the field.

“Only if they pass my test,” Kakashi says, pretending to read his Icha Icha.

“Hatake Kakashi, you will pass them.”

“Only if they pass my test,” he repeats, not backing down to Hiruzen’s rising killer intent. Tobirama had a stronger and heavier killer intent, but even Tobirama’s was no match to hers.

“If you fail them-” Hiruzen purses his lips then amends his words. “If you fail Minato’s son, you’ll doom him to the genin corps or worse, as an academy dropout. Kakashi, you don’t want to do that, do you?”

Personally, Kakashi thinks that that would be kinder to Naruto. Naruto can be apprenticed to someone who can give him one on one instruction, someone that is far kinder and more patient than he’ll ever be. Naruto could use that. He had seen the blond kid’s work and katas and it is a catastrophe.

“Only if they pass my test,” Kakashi insists and shunshins away in a flurry of leaves. Only if they pass my test, he promises to himself. And no one has.

Team seven passes his test against all odds.

-/-/-/-

This is fate, isn’t it? It hadn’t been the broody boy or the hyper kid that helped the team to pass, it had to be Sakura. Sakura, that he had been determined to let her languish in the genin corps, has spoilt all his plans again.

“Renge, which part of the word stealth do you not understand?” Kama groans.

“It wasn’t my fault that the daimyo was there! Him trying to seduce me and groping me wasn’t part of the plan!” she snipes back, throwing clothes at him. “Quickly now.”

Kama sighs, stripping and putting the clothes on. Then stops in horror at the butterflies embroidered on the edge. Not that he has an issue with crossdressers, he just isn’t one. “Renge… this is a crossdresser outfit.” He turns to Renge with a whine.

Kakashi sighs at the pink haired girl, in spite of the thump of joy of seeing her look at him. He’ll ignore her, make her as useless as possible so that the only job she can do will be as a paperwork ninja. That’s safe, she’ll be safe and sound in the village.

-/-/-/-

Naruto and Sasuke were supposed to protect Sakura in the Forest of the Death, instead they fell apart. Sakura had been close to death, far too close for his liking.

So it begins, he thinks. The start of the shinigami calling for Sakura, the battle for her life. Kakashi looks up into the twilight sky. The tiny prickles of stars spilling across its dark canvas. The view of the sky never changes. He shifts his attention to the tug of their bond as Sakura creeps closer and stares up the building at him. Her green eyes are almost as dark as Obito’s in the shadows. Kakashi tries not think of the little dark haired boy chasing after Konoha’s infamous sennin or the little blond boy that Minato had entrusted to him, that he failed to protect, too.

Why does he always fail to protect?

His heart trembles at losing Sakura again, at the possibility of the gaping emptiness where her bond resides. As long as he continues to refuse to train her, she’ll be useless as a shinobi and her only choice will be to stay in the village.

“Kakashi-sensei,” she says, sitting beside him.

Kakashi can feel the thrum of their bond beneath his skin, their souls mixing with their close approximate and he wonders if she can feel their bond like he can. It takes all his self-control to not sling his arms around her and press his cheek into her hair. He can’t. He won’t. He won’t fall in love with her again just to lose her again. Despite his determination, Kakashi knows it’s a futile effort, just like the way he first met Sakura in their very first life. He had been lost and helpless since their first meeting, Her brash attitude in spite of her station, her compassionate heart regardless of how the others had stomped over it carelessly.

She shuffles beside him and he continues to pretend ignoring her.

“Kakashi-sensei,” Sakura repeats, this time turning to face the sky. “I asked Tsunade-sama to teach me.”

No, he wants to scream. Tsunade is a front line medic and that means Sakura would be, too. She is supposed to be safe in the village where her worst wound would be a papercut. She is supposed to be so useless that she would be grounded.

She fidgets when he doesn’t reply, her head bowed, legs kicking against the wall. “I just… you know- want to be useful.” Her voice cracks at the last word.

Kakashi laughs inwardly at his foolishness. Sakura had always been a front liner in every reincarnation, what in kami’s name did he think he could change this lifetime? He remembers her watching her back over and over again. He remembers Sakura wielding the naginata in their first lifetime. He fell in love with her because she never backed down, never afraid to put herself out there. She wouldn’t be Sakura if she allowed herself to be a kept woman, to be useless.

“I’m not saying that you-”

“Sakura, it’s okay,” he tells her. “I was a bad teacher anyway. Godaime would be a good teacher for you.” Kakashi can already see it. Little Rin all grown up, past her miserable thirteen years.

He pulls his arm out of Rin’s torso, holding her bloodied body. He was supposed to protect her not kill her! How had he failed so miserably? Hadn’t he been getting her steadily older? Why? Why did she do this?

Her pink hair spills across his shoulder as he shifts to hold her across his arms. He takes a tremulous breath. “Good night, sleep well,” he whispers. Kakashi doesn’t cry. Not yet at least and not until a whole month later.

“You’ll be a great medic. ” He ruffles her hair and she sighs in relief.

-/-/-/-

Kakashi regrets many things. He regrets killing Rin, not going to Kurama that night. He regrets being late to save Tsutsuji and walking away from Renge that night. His nightmares are filled with the memory of him walking away from Renge that would become her last night. Kakashi occasionally regrets letting Hashirama persuade him to join Konoha, but of all the things that he regrets, he regrets not mercy-killing Obito that day the most. A decision that haunts him through the last decade. How much pain Obito must have endured under that rock. Contrary to what Minato insists, Kakashi knows that he was not an adolescent filled with guilt that lead to his teammate’s death. He was apathetic and Kakashi can not forgive himself for that.

He dodges a flying rock, sending a chidori and missing Obito. Whirling around, he catches Obito’s chains in time, tugging it towards him.

“Why am I not surprised you’re working on the traitor’s side,” Obito sneers. “After all you betrayed your own master, didn’t you Hatake Kakashi?” His lips curl upwards, smug and triumphant. “Or should I say, Hatake Masahiro?”

The name seems to reverberate through him, knocking him silly for a brief instant, ice dripping into his core as he registers the name that passed through Obito’s lips. Masahiro.

“We can’t let her kill anymore,” the man tells his older brother.

“Hamura… do you really think killing Mother would be better?” He turns to Masahiro, his purple ringed eyes catching Masahiro’s dark grey ones. “Advise me, Masahiro. Would killing Mother be better?”

Masahiro bows, pressing his forehead against the ground. To ask the son of his master to kill the one he swore fealty would be treason, but how could he let his master continue her rampage?

“Ootsutsuki-sama-” he says carefully, feeling the weight of his words on his tongue. “If you do not stop her, there will be nothing left to save.”

Kakashi swipes at Obito’s feet, only to slide through his dematerialized form. “I’m Hatake Kakashi.” Masahiro is a long forgotten past. Younger, more innocent, naive, all the things that Kakashi isn’t anymore.

“I’ll say. I never thought there would be anyone who lived as long as Zetsu, but then here you are! Masahiro-kun. You don’t really care, do you?” Obito teleports away, reappearing in front of Sakura and Kakashi leaps with a roar.

Sakura, Sakura, Sakura.

He pours more chakra into his feet, begging them to for once be there on time. Not Sakura! Sakura turns and he watches Obito raise the tanto in his hand.

“I can’t cancel the curse, Masahiro. She did something to bind your souls together.” Hagoromo tells him apologetically. Even with all his powers and chakra, a curse laid by his mother is far too powerful for him to remove without severe consequences.

“Then at least let my wife forget.”

“Dear!” Sakura grabs at him, however he pushes away, pressing his head against the ground. He only has her left to protect. He swore to protect her with his life and regardless of whether she was a warrior like he is, the fact that he allowed Ootsutsuki-sama to place the curse on her was inexcusable.

“If she’s cursed to die over and over again, then I don’t want her to remember that,” Masahiro says.

“No, dear, I won’t let you be the only one-”

“Be quiet and let me do the protecting for once,” he tells her. He turns back to Hagoromo. “Please.”

Kakashi feels his sharingan tingling, feels the jerk of chakra as the tomoe spins round and round, morphing into a pinwheel.

“Sakura!” Blood rims his sharingan eye and suddenly, Kakashi is in front of Sakura pushing her away, Obito’s tanto sliding through him.

“Kakashi!”

Kakashi grabs Obito by the wrist, refusing to let him dematerialize again. Kakashi can feel the blade jerk in his chest as Obito struggles to free himself. He calls up the last bit of his chakra channeling into his right arm.The chakra sparks into lightning, as he plunges his chidori into Obito’s chest. Obito gurgles, blood dribbling down his chin. He slumps against Kakashi as the light fades from his eyes.

Obito is finally dead.

One regret crossed out. Kakashi’s legs tremble, folding beneath his weight. The rocks on the ground press into his bloodied shin. He hasn’t planned to die momentarily in front of Sakura. None of her reincarnations had ever taken that well. He grins a bloody smile at Sakura as she scampers over. “Well, that didn’t go as planned,” he says.

She pulls the tanto out, stoppering his wound with her hands. The smell of medical chakra fills the air, Kakashi can feel his body giving out, from the shattered ribs he acquired earlier in the fight, from his chakra exhaustion and the nick on his heart.

“Don’t cry, I’ll be okay,” he tells her, his hand curling around her wrist.

“You’re so stupid! Why didn’t you just let me take the hit! I could have healed myself.” Her tears patter over his face. “I would have been fine.”

“I’ll be okay,” he tries to reassure her but chokes on his blood.

“Please, Kakashi. I need you.” Her chest heaving, the green glow on her hands splutter out as her yin seal runs out of chakra. Sakura turns to the boys, too far to come in time for a chakra infusion even if they had any to spare. “Kami, anyone… please-” She crouches over him, one hand fisting his black shirt. The fight didn’t need her with Sasuke handling the last few Zetsus and Naruto sealing the black Zetsu away.

“Sakura.” Yamato kneels beside her, his hand over hers, gently trying to pry her hands away from his black shirt. “He’ll be okay,” Yamato says the words that Kakashi can’t say because he’s dead for the moment.

“He’s dead,” she tells him with a sob crawling from her throat, her fingers trembling. “He can’t be fine.”

“Sakura-chan…” He trails off, unsure how to explain it. “Kakashi-senpai… he can’t die. It’s a secret so you can’t tell anyone.”

She turns back to Kakashi, looking helplessly at him. “But he’s dead,” she whispers.

“Give him a moment, he comes back after that.”

And Kakashi does but it doesn’t stop Sakura from shrinking away from him.

-/-/-/-

Kakashi knows that Sakura had been trying to talk to him since the war ended. Probably to apologise, he assumes. Sakura’s reaction to him come back to live isn’t atypical, but still, it hurts. Somewhere along the way, the memory of her current reincarnation has been replaced with Rin flinching from him. No matter how many times he apologises to Rin’s grave, it doesn’t help dissipate the weight in his chest.

Sakura is nineteen when she finally corners him or he gives up trying to avoid her, Kakashi isn’t very sure which it is. Her eyes are still as green as he remembers them to be, but there is a new scar running across her clavicle. Yamato had taken over team seven leadership now that he is the Hokage. There is relief that he no longer can hover around Sakura. Yamato has taken care of his team and her well in his absence. Whether she lives or dies, her fate would no longer rest solely on his shoulders.

Sakura steps forward. “Kakashi…”

“Ahh… I think I left my stove on,” Kakashi says, but before he can flicker away, Sakura latches onto his arm.

“Kakashi! Please stop running from me!”

“I wasn’t running, I just left my stove on. It’d be a terrible accident if the building burnt down.” His eyes crease into an exaggerated smile.

She deflates, her grip loosening slightly. “I- I just wanted to apologise,” Sakura says.

“Maa… what are you apologising for?” Kakashi guessed that she had felt sorry for her rejection.

“I didn’t mean- that time when you… when you… died. I didn’t mean to flinch.”

Kakashi chuckles. “It’s fine. It’s nothing.”

“Nothing? You call dying nothing? I thought I had lost you.” Her voice catches in a sob and he automatically reaches out to hold her, before freezing, his arm outstretched then drops back to his side.

Uncertain as to how to respond to her words, Kakashi stays silent. The last few times she had lost him, they had been lovers. It was a simpler and more familiar route for him to comfort her then. This… or rather them being non-lovers isn’t something he knows how to navigate. They are student and teacher - him being an inept teacher, but still. He is not her boyfriend, lover, or husband.

“Kakashi.” She looks up at him, the grip on his sleeve tightening. “I thought that I might have been wrong and I know that there’s an age gap,” Sakura laughs mirthlessly. “But I think… I think I’m in love with you.”

“I… I just feel this calling when I’m close to you, like my heart beating loudly when I’m close and when we touch.” She hurriedly adds on, holding tighter onto him, not wanting to let go. Kakashi stiffens. Unsure of how to respond, he gently removes her small, soft hand from his arm.

Sakura leans to him, her hand resting on his arm. Kakashi can feel a frisson of anticipation sliding down his spine as she steps into his personal space and looks up at him. His eyes drop to her soft, pink lips.

Feeling emboldened from his subtle eye movement, Sakura steps closer and puts a palm on his chest. Her voice is barely a whisper, “I feel like I’m home when I’m with you. Kakashi, do you… do you feel this way too about me?”

Kakashi sharply raises his head to catch her green eyes, his mouth is dry. He can feel the bond calling for her, begging to be rejoined and all he can think of is the number of times she had died in his arms. He pulls air that his lungs do not have, and replies hoarsely, “I’m sorry.” Pulling his arm back, he raises a hand seal and disappears in a flurry of leaves, leaving her alone on the mountain top.

He can taste her hurt and confusion through the bond. Already he regrets his words, but he can’t falter now. There is only two years left before he is free, before they are free.

-/-/-/-

Kakashi sits on a tree beside Sakura’s kitchen window, among the blooming trees. Her twenty-first, finally. The party in her apartment is going on at full volume. In a few minutes, Sakura would finally pass her twenty-first birthday and he would be free of this curse, to finally live or die. For the centuries that he had lived, Kakashi hadn’t planned for what happens next. What does he do now that he’s free? Would she remember? Did he so much as want her to remember?

He swipes a glass of sake from the counter, emptying it and replacing it back from where Naruto had left it.

“Are you not going to come in?” Yamato asks across the half-open window the moment Kakashi stands. Digging his hands into his pockets, Kakashi slouches his shoulders tiredly. He doesn’t reply because even without words Yamato already knows.

“She’d like you to at least wish her happy birthday,” Yamato tries again and opens the window a little wider.

“Tell her I said happy birthday in the case.” Not waiting for a reply, Kakashi wiggles his fingers and leaps off onto the road. He could go and wander, Kakashi muses. He could give the hat to Naruto, now that he is ready to become the Hokage. No need to worry about responsibilities and duties. He remembers the rice fields that his family used to grow, the thatched roofs that leaked constantly.

Kakashi pauses outside his door, staring at the crescent moon. He could leave, find out what happened to his family after they had left. Sliding through his seals, he sinks onto his bed, elbows digging into his thigh as he clasps his head. He thinks about finally seeing their gravestones, seeing people that were only loosely related to him by blood. No, he wouldn’t have anything there either.

The bond hums louder with each passing second into an incandescent crescendo. It’s not the bond, Kakashi realises. It’s the curse that binds them. One to live forever and one to forever die young, never meeting in-between. And as it reaches an almost deafening pitch, the humming shatters, leaving him bereft of something Kakashi isn’t quite sure what except he is free.

Then Sakura slips through his window, her eyes large, dilated and somewhat frantic.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” she says, taking a step towards him. “Why? Why didn’t you tell me about the curse?” Her tone is accusatory and a flare of indignance shoots up.

“Why?” Kakashi throws his words back. “Would you have believed me? No, no you wouldn’t. And that’s fine, that had always been part of you. I wouldn’t force you to believe me as it wouldn’t have made a difference in the long run.” He knows for he had tried that before.

She kneels in front of him, placing a tentative hand on his knee. “Then why did you leave? Why didn’t you stay with me? You know how I felt. Masahiro, tell me.” Sakura lifts his head and peels his mask away, caressing his cheek with a thumb.

His eyes widened at her choice of name. Kakashi hadn’t counted on her remembering. All those deaths, those lifetimes… Yet he couldn’t help the relief loosening his shoulders. She remembered! He wasn’t alone anymore with the weight of the centuries. His lungs rattle, his fingers digging into his sheets. He didn’t need to hide from her anymore.

“I couldn’t-”

His shoulders tremble at his words. “I couldn’t-” He grips her arms, his shoulder shaking more as he tries to force the words out. “I couldn’t lose you again. I loved you so much that I wished I could hate you and stop trying. I loved you for two hundred years, Sakura. Two hundred years.”

“I know,” she whispers and holds him tight.

“I tried so hard. So hard to break free of the curse. Why? Why couldn’t I just leave you be? Why couldn’t I just hate you?”

Sakura cards her hand through his hair, rubbing soothing circles on his back. “Then do you still love me?”

He pulls from her, startled.

“Do you?” she repeats when the silence lengthens.

“For two hundreds years. Always,” Kakashi tells her.

Sakura doesn’t hesitate. She pulls him close, dipping her head down to meet his lips. It’s soft and sweet, full of worship, love and hope. His fingers curl into her hair, her fingers tug at his lapels, holding him close.

They are panting when they draw apart, staring at each other wordlessly. Sakura cups his face and leans her forehead against his.

“Thank you,” she says. “Thank you for setting us free.”

They savour the moment, the giddy feeling of being set free. “So what now?” Kakashi asks, because now that he is no longer bound, he can choose to leave - except he can’t imagine being without her by his side.

“How about we start again?” Sakura laughs. “Hello, I’m Haruno Sakura. I like umeboshi, anko dumplings, my teammates and my friends. I hate anything spicy, traitors and am starting to hate ramen. I sometimes hate Sai too. My hobby is reading and filling out word puzzles.” She pauses at this, tilting towards him. her lips curling upwards, before continuing on quietly. “My dream is to make a particular silver haired shinobi fall in love with me. What about you?”

“Hello, I’m Hatake Kakashi. I like broiled saury, eggplants, my teammates and friends. I hate anything sweet or sour and traitors.” His eyes flicker down to her lips, his thumb rubbing circles on her cheek. “My hobby is following a pink haired kunoichi around and reading Icha Icha. My dream is… is to one day grow old with a particular pink haired kunoichi.”

“Wonder who this pink haired kunoichi is.”

“Wonder who this silver haired shinobi is,” he whispers and captures her lips with his.

#fanfiction #naruto #kakasaku #hatake kakashi #haruno sakura

33 notes · View notes

force-healer · 8 years ago

Text

Summer Thunder

Just a lil Ita/Saku thing I wrote today.

Itachi should never have been in Fire Country. And Sakura should have known better than to enter a cave without checking to see if it was occupied first.

Itachi peered down into his small woven basket, creasing his brow at the small amount of herbs inside. He had been picking the herbs for the better part of the afternoon and the sky was beginning to darken now. The irritation in the back of his throat was getting worse and he feared that he wouldn’t be able to pick enough herbs to last him by the time the sun dipped below the horizon.

He crouched back down to the ground and plucked another herb, grasping its long stem with a fist and yanking it forcefully from the ground, careful to preserve the golden bud at the top. He tossed it into the basket with a sigh.

These herbs only grew in Fire Country, which was a dangerous place for him to be. He was hardly inconspicuous, even without his Akatsuki cloak. He was an Uchiha, after all. One of only two living Uchiha left. His eyes would certainly make him recognizable, but at this point he couldn’t deactivate them because he could hardly see without them.

The tickle in his throat became too much and he coughed into the crook of his arm. When his coughing subsided, he looked down at his bare arm where a few flecks of blood had appeared. With a grimace, he wiped them away. He didn’t have time to deal with this. He needed to collect as many herbs as possible and get back to the Akatsuki hideout before anyone saw him here.

He glanced up at the sky, gauging his location. He had several hours of traveling to do, but luckily no one would notice his absence for a few days. And that was a very good thing because it looked like it would rain soon and he couldn’t travel in his condition in the rain.

Because he hadn’t brought the necessary equipment to set up a rainproof camp, he would have to find a suitable inn to stay in until the rain had cleared. He had planned for this, of course. There was a small town just a few miles west of his location. He wouldn’t be recognized there, and even if he were recognized, no one would ask questions. No one who valued their life, anyway.

A raindrop fell and landed on his cheek – a hot summer rain that was already filling the air with its humidity, already shifting the smell of the earth, the lushness of the forestry. He would need to find cover soon enough if he didn’t want his herbs to be ruined.

Quickly, Itachi covered his basket with a cloth and began making his way toward the small town. He heard a peal of thunder off in the distance and not even a second later he saw a bright flash of lightning that illuminated the woods around him.

This wasn’t good. The rain was moving far too quickly. He’d never make it to town before the rain started pouring down. He needed to find cover quickly before the coming rain destroyed the herbs he’d spent all day picking.

Deftly, he climbed a thick, nearby tree, using its height to scout the area for any substantial cover. The forest offered little by way of cover – whatever protection the trees gave would be rendered useless if the rain was heavy enough – which, by the sounds of the consecutive peals of thunder, it was.

But whatever god was watching over Itachi was merciful that day. He spotted the opening of a cave not too far from his location. It would take only a minute or two to reach. He only hoped it was empty. The last thing he needed was to walk straight into some wild, vicious animal.

He made his way to the cave, mindful of his herbs. Mercifully still, the cave was empty save for what used to be a small fire – now a pile of ash and a few mostly burned sticks. It seemed Itachi wasn’t the first to use this cave.

Resigned to a night in the lap of luxury, Itachi set his basket against the furthest wall of the cave and shrugged his pack off his back. He took a seat on the dusty ground, leaning back against the wall. A moment of rest would do him some good. The heat had become unbearable during the day, but inside the cave was mostly cool and dark, especially now that the sun was setting and the rain had begun to fall in a gentle, almost lilting pattern.

He closed his eyes, enjoying the sounds of the pelting raindrops, the rustling leaves, the thudding footsteps…

No, wait. There shouldn’t be any thudding footsteps.

He opened his eyes, listening carefully as he gazed out through the mouth of the cave. The footsteps were close. He masked his chakra, praying that whoever, whatever was out there would be dim enough to miss the cave, or smart enough to realize he was inside and avoid it altogether.

The rain began to come down harder, falling in thick sheets that obscured his vision of the world outside the cave. It would be easy to lose an enemy in rain like this. But it would be unpleasant and would exacerbate his condition. His best bet was just to wait and hope that those thudding footsteps receded on their own.

But Itachi’s god’s mercy was not limitless. He felt the approaching chakra signature of a shinobi and heard the footsteps come steadily closer, closer. He held his breath, steeling himself for this inevitable fight – another death, either his own or another by his hand.

And then, a moment later, a girl hardly older than his little brother burst through the mouth of the cave, sopping wet and panting.

Startled, Itachi eyed the young girl, watching from the back of the cave as she braced her hand against the stone and caught her breath. She was small and pink-haired, he mused, though he knew better than to underestimate a kunoichi. And what’s more, he recognized her. She was Sasuke’s teammate. Of course it had been Itachi’s prerogative to keep tabs on his little brother after he had defected from Konoha, so he had made certain to learn more about Sasuke’s genin team when the time came. He had been surprised to hear that the kyuubi vessel had been assigned to Sasuke’s team, and that Kakashi – someone Itachi might have considered a friend under different circumstances – had been appointed as their sensei.

It was this pink-haired girl who had flown under Itachi’s radar. She was a civilian born, that much he knew. Unremarkable otherwise. Until recently, when he realized that she had apprenticed with the Hokage. She was a medic-nin now and her name was in the bingo book. She had been the one to kill Sasori all that time ago when Akatsuki had kidnapped the Kazekage.

No, it would definitely not do to underestimate her.

He watched as she shrugged a massive canvas pack off her shoulders and tossed it onto the ground. It looked waterproof, Itachi noticed, and huge. He could only imagine what she was carrying around such a massive bag for.

She pushed her soaking wet bangs out of her face – a face that was definitively annoyed – and shrieked in surprise when she met Itachi’s gaze. She stumbled backwards a few steps, her breathing labored as she assessed this new situation she was in.

“You,” she breathed.

Itachi said nothing and remained motionless, waiting to see what she might do with this precariously changing turn of events. Itachi was a well-known shinobi. His name struck fear in Konoha. He was a murderer, a villain, a man so evil he killed his entire family in one fell swoop. Even if this girl was used to her opponents underestimating her, or her pretty face somehow giving her an edge over men who might hesitate to harm her, she had to have known that such advantages would be nonexistent when it came to a clan killer like Itachi Uchiha.

“You have a lot of nerve showing your face in Fire Country.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. She was right, of course. He had some degree of nerve to come back here, back to the place where was constantly being hunted and hated. And she had a lot of nerve, too, to say something like that right to his face, not knowing what he would do, how he would react.

It wouldn’t take much to kill her. After all, she was already making direct eye contact with him (a mistake she was bound to know she was making).

But maybe she did have a bit of an advantage here. He didn’t want to kill her. He didn’t really want to kill anyone, but he had a specific urge to let her leave here alive. She was Sasuke’s teammate. She must have been important to him. He had already taken so much away from Sasuke. How could he take this, too?

“What the hell are you even doing here?” she demanded. She had taken a fighting stance, her feet spaced apart, bent knees, her hands curled into tight fists. “Where’s shark boy?”

“You don’t have to worry about him,” Itachi answered. He was amused to see the slight shift in her features – a crease between her brow, a new and curious blaze in those bright, jade eyes. “He’s far away from here.”

“Why aren’t you with him?”

He focused more sharply on her now, a little annoyed that she continued to question him. She should be more afraid. She should be running back to Konoha in spite of the rain. But she didn’t look afraid. She only looked angry, and that wasn’t something Itachi could really fault her for. After all, he was the cause of her teammates worst grief, the blight of the bright jewel that was Konoha. He was everything wrong with her idyllic, Will of Fire obsessed village.

“Because I don’t want to travel in the rain,” he answered, slowly as if he were speaking to a small child.

She made a low sound in the back of her throat – a growl that was hardly threatening coming from a cherry blossom.

“I could have a hundred ANBU surrounding this cave in a moment’s notice, you know,” she said. “You have no business being in Fire Country.”

He chuckled – a sound that surprised even him with its cruelness. “If that were true, you’d have already done so by now, because surely you know that you can’t best me in a fight,” he said. “You’ve already made the grave mistake of looking into my eyes, and I know you know what these eyes are capable of.”

She glared at him and crossed her arm with a frustrated huff. But she cast her eyes away from him, looking down at her feet instead. He continued to watch her carefully, because he needed this to play out well in both of their favor. Otherwise, he would have an unfortunate death on his conscious and maybe there would be a renewed interest in the bounty on his head.

“But you are correct that I shouldn’t be here in Fire Country,” he said. She immediately looked back up into his eyes – a foolish, foolish mistake to make twice. She must have had a merciful god looking after her, too. “When the rain clears, I will leave.”

“Aww,” she cooed. “The Akatsuki killer is afraid of a little rain?”

He laughed again, entertained by the absurdity that she would insult him so openly and the irony that his new home was in Rain.

“Don’t laugh at me!”

“Don’t taunt me.”

“You ruined Sasuke-kun’s life,” she said sassily, hands on hips. “I’ll taunt you if I please.”

It took approximately one second for him to cross the short length of the cave, wrap his fingers around the slick column of her throat, and press her back against the cave’s wall. She gasped, but was unable to make much more of a sound as he applied firm pressure against her windpipe – not enough to choke her, but enough to warn her. She brought her hands up to his arms, fruitlessly trying to pull them away. She had wisely decided it would be best to screw her eyes shut, so Itachi didn’t have the satisfaction of seeing her fear.

“What’s your name?” he demanded. He wished he didn’t have to ask, but he had forgotten and it wouldn’t do to address her as kunoichi.

With his Sharingan, he saw her begin to concentrate chakra in her hands. He remembered then that this girl was famous for her chakra control and her ability to utilize it to obtain monstrous strength. If she chose to use such powers now, she could level the cave and destroy his cover, his herbs, and any chance he had of remaining dry.

“Look at me,” he commanded, moving his face close enough to hers that she would have to feel his breath on her face. She opened her eyes and looked down at his chest, wisely avoiding his gaze. Her chakra was growing steadily in her hands, but she seemed to be waiting for the best moment to strike.

He let go of her, letting her slump down the cave wall and catch her breath. She began to shiver, whether from fear or the chill of being soaked to the bone in the chilly darkness of the cave Itachi didn’t know. He crouched down next to her, but refrained from touching her this time because he didn’t want to provoke her to use her strength.

“Tell me your name, kunoichi.”

She curled her body away from him, looking toward the mouth of the cave as she hugged her arms tightly around herself. She was cold. The chakra in her hands dissipated, much to Itachi’s relief, and her features softened.

She then buried her face in her hands and began to cry. Itachi grimaced, wrinkling his nose at the sound of her sobs. It had been a long time since he’d heard a young girl cry. He didn’t make a habit of causing girls to cry. It made him uncomfortable and it was unfitting of a kunoichi.

“Hey,” he said, grabbing her arm and pulling it away from her face so he could see her eyes. “Stop crying—”

Pain exploded in his temple and he staggered backwards, clutching his face. He could feel his eye swelling up already, and a small trickle of blood seeping between his fingers.

She had punched him and he hadn’t seen it coming because she had distracted him with her girlish antics, just like he had known she would. Yet he had let himself fall for it anyway.

But now he was angry and he didn’t need some kunoichi thinking she could pull one over on him like that. With blinding speed, he captured her throat again and pulled her down to the ground, pressing her back into the dust. She squirmed and kicked underneath him, pulling her chakra to her hands again. But this time, he caught her hands and pinned them above her head.

“Listen to me,” he said. “I am not going to hurt you. If I let go of you, will you promise not to attack me?”

“Hell no!” she screamed. “Get the fuck off me and I’ll kick your ass fair and square.”

He let out a huff of amused breath, but tightened his hold on her wrists. She was still avoiding his gaze, but he could easily grab her attention and catch her in a genjutsu if he needed to. He had hoped, however, that he could do this the easy way.

“We can make a deal,” he offered. “We can call a truce. Just until the rain stops.”

“Why should I do that?” she demanded, though she was squirming a little less now, and she subconsciously leaned into him, leeching his warmth. It made Itachi want to let go of her and cross back into the depth of the cave.

It was officially dark now, only scant moonlight through the thick canopy of leaves casting a dim glow into the mouth of the cave. Another loud peal of thunder echoed in the distance and a bright flash of lightning lit up the cave.

“It’s too dangerous to leave the cave right now,” he explained. “So we’re stuck here together.”

“That only makes it easier for me to kill you.”

He had qualms about whether or not she could do that. He wasn’t sure what her skills were like, but she did manage to land a punch on him, so he didn’t want to underestimate her again. “And rob Sasuke of the chance to do that himself?” he asked, hitting a more emotional weakness.

She stopped squirming completely, going limp. She let her head loll to the side as she let out a resigned sigh.

“Why should I trust that you won’t attack me?” she asked, refusing to meet his gaze.

“I need this shelter and I need you to keep those fists of yours from caving the whole thing in,” he said. “If you agree to that, I promise I won’t attack you.”

She clenched her teeth, craning her neck as far away from him as possible. She was caked in dirt now that she had been rolling around on the ground in her damp clothing. It clung in clumps to her hair, marred the paleness of her skin. Even still, it didn’t do much to detract from her pretty, effeminate features. What did Sasuke think of this pink, petulant girl?

“Fine,” she acquiesced. “Now get the fuck off of me.”

Itachi stood up, brushing the dust from his clothes. He thought of extending his arm to help her up, but decided that was too nice and merely walked back to his corner of the cave and sat back down.

“So you’re just going to sit there until the rain stops?”

He cracked open an eye to look at her. She was sitting up now, and had pushed herself against the wall so she could lean back into it. She was watching him, her eyes now focused sharply on his, which would have given him ample opportunity to catch her in a genjutsu, but he had promised not to and she seemed to take him at his word, which was refreshing, but also very stupid.

“That’s the plan.”

She pressed her lips together, her brow furrowed as she let her thoughts wander. Just what was she thinking inside that little pink head? Was she going to tell the Hokage that she ran into the infamous Itachi Uchiha when she returned home? That was fine, Itachi thought, because he’d be long gone by then. Was she planning something nefarious? Would she attack him if he let his guard down? He’d have to keep a careful eye on her.

“You know it’s supposed to rain all night, right?”

He didn’t respond to that, though he wanted to ask why she was caught out in the storm if she had known it was coming.

“What exactly are you doing here in Fire Country?” she asked. “Are you here on Akatsuki business? Does it have something to do with Sasuke-kun?”

He eyed her with disdain because he would gladly send her back out into the rain if she was going to keep up with the incessant questions. “Do you know what curiosity did to the cat?”

She rolled her eyes, shifting her shoulders away from him, back toward the mouth of the cave. It was dark enough now that he could only see her silhouette. He should start a fire (he needed one to fix the herbs for his remedy), but he had nothing to burn.

A heavy silence filled the cave, punctuated only by the relentless downpour of rain and raucous thunder. Every so often the cave lit up entirely with a flash of lightning. It had been a long time since Itachi had weathered a storm like this one.

“Hey, kunoichi.”

She turned her head back toward him. He couldn’t see her face anymore, but he knew he had her attention.

“If you go knock down a tree and get us some dry firewood, I’ll start a fire.”

“I’m not going out there!”

“You’re already wet, though,” he argued.

“I don’t want to be more wet. What if I get struck by lightning?”

“Chances of that are very slim,” he said. “Besides, you’d be able to dry yourself faster by a fire. And it would keep you warm.”

“Why don’t you go do it?”

“Because I don’t have the strength you have. The firewood has to be dry.”

She growled – a sound Itachi found amusing now, and rose to her feet. “I know that,” she said. “I’ll get the damn firewood. But you should know that you’re a piece of shit and I hate you.”

Her gall made him blink in surprise, but she was had already disappeared through the mouth of the cave by the time his mouth had caught up with his brain and he thought to tell her to go fuck herself.

He wasn’t going to waste the opportunity he had without her presence, though. He opened his pack and pulled out his canteen. It was nearly empty now, but he quickly drained the last bit into his mouth before he moved to the mouth of the cave and set it on a rock outside in the rain. He waited patiently for it to be filled as he scanned the landscape for any signs of the kunoichi.

He couldn’t see her, but he could hear the sharp crack of wood nearby – a sound nearly drowned out by the thunder.

When his canteen had been refilled (quickly, thanks to the heavy downpour), he returned to his spot and waited for the girl to return.

A moment later, she returned with a massive tree trunk in hand, dragging it behind her. It was an impressive sight – such a small girl carrying a tree easily three feet in diameter. Once a portion of it was inside the cave, she cracked it open with a fist before breaking it into smaller portions with her hands. She then neatly arranged the wood into a campfire formation by the light of the ever-increasing lightning.

“Stand back,” he warned, prompting another impudent roll of her eyes, even as she retreated back into his corner of the cave.

He cast a fireball jutsu, aiming at the wood she had arranged for him. Once the flames had settled down and the fire was an appropriate size, Itachi let out a tiny sigh of relief. All of the dust the girl had kicked up had begun to irritate his throat again, and now he would be able to brew his medicinal tea.

He grabbed his pack and his basket and moved to sit near the fire, appreciating the warmth and the glow. The girl, too, grabbed her things and moved closer to the fire, sitting across from him and gazing into the flames.

“Thank you,” he said. “For the firewood.”

She looked up at him, surprise obvious in her features. Maybe he shouldn’t have said that.

“You may be a murderer, but at least you have manners,” she said dryly.

“A simple ‘you’re welcome’ would have sufficed,” he said with an equally dry tone.

They were quiet once again, each keeping a wary eye on one another through the flames. After a tense moment, Itachi reached into his pack and pulled out a small metal pot, which he then nestled securely into the fire between two pieces of wood. He felt the girl’s eyes on him as he poured in the water from his canteen, letting the heat boil it.

She cleared her throat and he looked up at her, though it didn’t seem like she wanted his attention. Instead, her gaze was focused on the basket by his feet.

“What is that?” she asked, nodding toward the basket.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re nosy, kunoichi?”

“My name is Sakura.”

He stared at her, unsurprised by the name, but a little caught off guard by her willingness to offer it. His gaze flitted to her pink hair and then her green eyes and then lower, down to the lithe figure beneath those wet, clingy clothes.

“What an unfitting name for a girl so prickly.”

To his bafflement, she laughed – not just a giggle or a huff of amusement, but a full-blown belly laugh. Itachi would be lying to himself if he said he wasn’t at least a little charmed by it. When was the last time someone had laughed like that at something he had said? Laughter that wasn’t sardonic was hard to come by and he’d forgotten just how sweet that sound was.

“That’s new,” she said, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. “As you can imagine, no one’s ever said my name isn’t fitting before. Come to think of it, I’ve never been referred to as prickly, either.”

Another loud peal of thunder rang out, rattling the walls of the cave, the ground beneath them. The girl – Sakura – glanced toward the mouth of the cave, a wistful look on her face. She was still shivering, even in the glow of the fire. In the fire’s hot radiance, Itachi could see her features more clearly now. There were dark circles under her eyes, crow’s feet that shouldn’t be there, and worry lines around her mouth that made her look much older than he knew she was.

He felt guilty suddenly, because it was likely that he was a huge source of pain for her. Sasuke was her teammate and he had defected from Konoha to come find him, and here he was sitting before her. She must have felt conflicted and angry. He couldn’t blame her for her sharp tongue and her vicious attitude.

Again, against his better judgment, Itachi reached into his pack and pulled out his cloak. “Here,” he said, tossing the cloak to her. “You can put this on. It’s warm.”

She gave him an incredulous look, maintaining eye contact with him for far too long to be smart before she dropped her gaze back to the cloak in her hand. She ran her hand over the embroidered red clouds, the white stitching around them.

“I’m not putting this on,” she said.

“That’s fine,” he said. “You can sit on it. Or use it as a pillow.”

Another incredulous look, this time with something that looked suspiciously like pity. But what would give her cause to pity him?

She hesitated for a moment before she shrugged the cloak over her shoulders, slipping her arms into the sleeves that were much too long for her. He imagined that if she were standing, it would be quite a bit too long as well.

And well, he didn’t have to imagine, because she stood up and closed the cloak, all the way from its hem, which brushed the ground to the top of the collar. She then tucked her arms back inside through the sleeves and began rustling around underneath it.

Itachi watched with confused fascination as she seemed to struggle with herself under there.

“Pervert,” she muttered under her breath.

And then a moment later she ejected her wet clothes through the bottom of the cloak. She picked them up and neatly spread them out in front of the fire to dry. Itachi felt a hot blush on his cheek because he could see that she had also taken off her underclothes, which meant that she was completely naked under his cloak.

Though it was unnerving, it also implied some level of trust, which was still foolish on her part, because even though Itachi had no intention of hurting her, she couldn’t have known that. And now she was naked and wearing his cloak and totally unable to fight should it come to that.

But he had promised not to attack her, and she didn’t seem like she was going to attack him, so he supposed everything was fine.

Except that she was naked and that was definitely not fine.

And now he couldn’t take his eyes off her, because he couldn’t remember a time when he had ever been around a naked girl, even if she was an enemy.

She sat back down, bring her knees up to her chest and resting her chin on them. She flicked her gaze up to his, and noticing that he was watching her, she narrowed her eyes slightly.

He returned his attention to the water in the pot, which was now boiling. He pulled the cloth that was covering his basket of herbs and reached in for a handful. Silently, he began to pick the petals off the buds, exposing the core – the part he really needed. He dropped a couple cores into the pot, watching as they unfurled themselves in the water.

“Goldbalm,” Sakura said. “That’s what’s in the basket?”

He looked up at her and nodded before looking back down into the pot.

“That’s a cough suppressant,” she continued. “Are you sick, Itachi?”

He winced, caught off guard by the way she spoke his name. It didn’t have an animosity in it, even though that’s what he deserved. No, she seemed matter-of-fact as she cocked her head and watched him pull the petals off the goldbalm cores. He didn’t answer her, or rather, he didn’t feel that telling her the truth was a wise thing to do. But she was a medic, after all. She would know what the herbs would for. And she had touched him earlier, so maybe she already knew.

And then, as if purely for the intention of betraying him, the tickle in his throat returned and he began to cough. He held up his arm to catch the blood he knew would be there, shielding Sakura and the fire from his germs, his abhorrent disease.

“You’re doing that all wrong,” she said. “If you want to get the most out of the goldbalm, you need to grind up the cores first.”

She pulled her pack closer to her and unzipped on the side pockets. She pulled out of it a mortar and pestle – something he would never have thought to carry around with him. She stood up and skirted the fire to pass the tools to him, which surprised him. She had no reason to offer him her help.

But then again, he had no reason to offer her his.

He took the mortar and pestle from her, ignoring the shock that coursed through him when his fingertip grazed her wrist.

“Those only grow out here in Fire Country,” she speculated. “That’s why you’re here. Gathering herbs.”

He ignored her as he placed several goldbalm cores into the mortar and began to grind them up. He felt her eyes on him as he worked, but he didn’t look up at her.

“I probably shouldn’t be telling you this,” she began, and immediately she had his attention, though he kept his eyes down on his work. “But I saw your medical file. I mean, I was snooping through Uchiha files. It wasn’t just lying around. But I saw it and I know you’re sick.”

“Then why did you ask?” he snapped, then immediately regretted it.

“I just wanted to confirm,” she said quietly. “You know your disease is treatable. Those herbs might be helping with your cough, but they aren’t treating the root cause.”

“I’m not really in a position to be seeking medical assistance.”

“It will be a real shame if Sasuke doesn’t get to you before your illness does.”

“Then let’s pray he comes quickly.”

It was too much to have said and he realized this the moment the last word escaped his lips. He kept his eyes on the mortar and pestle, avoiding Sakura’s gaze even though he could feel her staring at him. She hadn’t returned to her side of the fire yet. Instead, she crouched down next to him and reached into the basket. Without looking up at her face, he let his eyes wander to her hands and watched her peel the petals from the goldbalm core and pass it to him.

After a few minutes of this unsettling teamwork, Itachi had at least a few tablespoons of the goldbalm powder, which he lifted to pour into the pot.

But Sakura’s hand on his wrist stopped him.

“Wait,” she said. “Not like that.”

She reached into her pack again and pulled out a fine mesh bag – one meant for teas and other herbal remedies. She pulled the ribbon, un-cinching it, and held it open for him to pour the powder inside. He gratefully accepted her help and poured the powder inside and watched as she tossed the bag into the pot.

“You don’t have to help me,” he said.

“I’m not helping you. I’m helping Sasuke.”

He couldn’t argue with that. He wondered now if she would still want to tell her Hokage that she had seen the infamous Itachi Uchiha, if she would want to admit that she had helped him in some way.

“It’s hard to look at you,” she said after the silence had weighed heavy for a few moments. “You look so much like him.”

It was hard to look at her, too, because she reminded him so much of Konoha and the life he left behind.

“Don’t look at me, then.”

She pouted and stood up. He could feel her looking down at him, tapping her foot somewhere under that length of cloak as if she were waiting for him to say something. When he said nothing, she returned to her side of the fire, crossed her legs, and sat down.

“Do they know you’re sick?” she asked. “Akatsuki, I mean.”

Again with the questions, he thought. How could one person be so annoying and yet so helpful?

“I suppose you wouldn’t want to answer that,” she said. He thought he detected a hint of a smile in her tone. He chanced a look up at her face and saw that she was indeed smiling, all traces of animosity gone from her.

That was more concerning than anything she had said or done so far. She shouldn’t be smiling or laughing or helping him.

“But shark boy probably knows, doesn’t he?” she continued. “I mean, he’s your partner, right? He’s probably heard you coughing before.”

That was true, Itachi thought. Kisame knew of his disease. There wasn’t much that could be done about that. But on some level, he trusted the shark nin, so he wasn’t too concerned about it.

“I’ve got to say, it’s real harrowing to see the mighty Itachi Uchiha cough,” she said.

Absently, because his thoughts were way too far away now, Itachi pulled the pot from the fire and set it aside to cool and steep.

“Sorry, I must be annoying you.”

She was, but she also kind of wasn’t.

“Don’t get too comfortable around me, kunoichi—”

“Sakura.”

“Please,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “As if I could ever feel comfortable around someone like you. But at the same time, being near you is sort of like being near Sasuke… Except you’re a little nicer.”

She chuckled darkly at her own words and Itachi bristled. Just what did she mean by that?

Another tense moment of silence went by. Sakura shrank further away from the fire, sufficiently warmed now that she had been underneath his cloak for so long. She pulled the sleeves of his cloak around her hands and fisted them as she leaned back into the wall and shut her eyes.

Itachi glanced down at his feet and then back toward the mouth of the cave. The rain was still coming down hard and it was difficult to see much in the darkness. There was nothing left to do now but wait until the storm passed.

He leaned back against the opposite wall, crossing his arms and trying not to let his gaze fall on Sakura.

But like a magnet, he couldn’t draw his gaze away from her for too long. With her eyes closed, he could look at her without her rebuke, so he did. He took in her delicate features, her pale lips, dirty cheeks, and stringy, dirt caked hair. She was a mess, so why did he feel the compulsion to push the errant bangs away from her face and touch the skin of her cheek?

Logically, he knew that part of his draw to her was because she was Sasuke’s teammate. She was a Konoha kunoichi. She was a slice of home, a reminder of why he wore an Akatsuki cloak, why he watched the village from the shadows, why it was so necessary that Sasuke kill him.

And logically he also knew that another reason he was drawn to her was that she was pretty and young and he was a red blooded male who hadn’t had the time or the frame of mind to pursue a young woman before. Not that she was one he could pursue. She just happened to be there.

Yeah, that was it. She just happened to have pretty features, and he just happened to have been unfortunate enough to have never explored his hormones post adolescence. She just happened to be here in this cave with him. Naked underneath his cloak.

Sucking in a shaky breath, he shifted his weight forward and picked up the metal pot, bringing it to his lips.

It tasted sweeter than he remembered, and felt soothing and warm against the irritation in his throat. She had been right – grinding the cores was a much better way to elicit goldbalm’s healing properties.

He sat sipping the tea and watching Sakura, enjoying the warmth of the fire and the fact that he was in his home country – maybe for the last time, depending on how long it took Sasuke to find him. It was strange to be in Sakura’s company and feel so at peace. He shouldn’t feel like this. And she shouldn’t still have her eyes closed while an enemy was sitting right across from her.

But she looked at peace, too, and he wouldn’t be the one to take that from her.

He sat there for a few more minutes as he finished his tea. The sounds of the rain let up a little. He glanced back to the mouth of the cave and saw the sheets of rain ebb away into nothing but a drizzle.

And now that he’d had his tea, he felt better – well enough to return to Akatsuki’s base. Reluctantly, he got to his feet. He collected his things, covered his basket with what left he had of the goldbalm and shrugged his pack back onto his shoulders.

“Sakura,” he said, turning his attention to the one possession he had yet to reclaim. He approached her and noticed that she was asleep, her breathing even and slow.

He could wake her, but it seemed like such a waste. With her asleep he could easily get away from her without having to fight or say goodbye or have any other awkward conversation.

But that meant forgoing his cloak, because even if he was an S-class criminal and a murderer and a missing-nin, he wouldn’t strip her naked and leave her here alone. Instead, he bent down and brushed that strand of hair away from her face. He touched her cheek, which was soft and silky in spite of its current state of ruddiness.

“Thank you for your help, Sakura,” he said softly, watching her chest fall and rise as she slept. “Keep the cloak as a parting gift. And take care of Sasuke for me.”

He stood up straight, extinguished his fire, and gave her one last glance before he ventured back out into the rain.

________________________________________

Exactly one month later, Itachi returned to Fire Country with his basket, a new Akatsuki cloak, and a mortar and pestle tucked away in his pack.

He would be more careful this time. He had checked the weather – there was no sign of rain for the next week. He could pick the herbs to his heart’s content, with ANBU patrols being his only concern, though he had been scouting the area for some time and he knew that ANBU weren’t likely to be around this location until later in the evening.

But to his annoyance, it seemed that there weren’t that many goldbalms to be picked. He was aware they typically grew in the heat of summer, and that fall was rapidly approaching. But still, he had hoped he’d be able to top off his supply before he isolated himself to Rain again.

He picked what little he could, following the path they grew east until it seemed he had reached the cave again. He paused, gazing into its darkness, wondering if there was anything in there today when a piece of blinding white parchment caught his eye.

There, tacked to the cave’s mouth, was a note written in girlish scrawl. “Don’t die yet,” it said. Itachi plucked the note off the wall and stuffed it into his pocket. It must have been Sakura’s doing. Who else would leave a note like this?

Out of curiosity, he wandered into the cave. It looked exactly the same, down to the pile of ashes, though it was maybe a little bigger than before. And on the ground against the back wall was a wicker basket. He sensed a trap, but he couldn’t claim that that was why his heartbeat increased slightly.

He lifted the basket’s lid to find it filled to the brim with goldbalm cores.

#itasaku #itasaku fanfiction #itachi x sakura #itachi #sakura

83 notes · View notes