#only likes the boonie and beanie hats

[gomzdrawfr]

been meaning to do this

[bodybeyondstories]

Growth Notes - Sky's the Limit

Dwayne doesn't like house calls, but he will put away his therapist hat for a weekend to visit Sky, an old flame who's been through some big changes. Meeting his ex's new partner on the way, he realizes this syndrome may be having some weird knock-on effects.

Other stories in this series: Omar | Trevor

MaleTF // ass growth // dick growth // growth // size difference

---

The only other occupant of the nondescript gas station convenience store was a girl behind the counter with jet black hair pulled into a ponytail in the back of a trucker hat. She glanced at me with mild interest as I walked in, her gaze a halo of lavender-gold eyeshadow framed with expertly sharp wings, resting in my direction just long enough to hold space for one, and only one, question.

“This is the third to last stop of the 84 bus line, right? Near the mountain access road?”

“Probably…?” she offered, softening the blow of nonchalance by shifting the intonation at the last minute and following it up with a half smile that could possibly be read as encouraging.

“Cool, great, thanks,” I said, turning awkwardly to busy my eyes with something as hers settled back on the phone that lay flat on the counter.

I double checked the text from Arun earlier that day. They had indeed said to take the 84 bus line almost all the way to the end, out to the boonies where the loosely defined mountain roads start appearing and they had said to meet them at the Come Again convenience store with the half-lit neon sign. So here I was, my phone barely in service, adjusting my backpack every few minutes and looking at random knick knacks hoping I was in the right place. Next to the gag nametags (they did have a Dwayne, which I appreciated) were what looked like self-produced postcards and flipbooks of the local cryptid sightings, large shadowy figures out of focus and out of range in the forest. This was normal paraphernalia in spots like these, but they had become more common as more men had become afflicted with this ‘macro syndrome.’ And in my line of work, they actually provide useful data. Maybe there’s a higher proportion of cases in the area, maybe they’re just drawn here because a protected forest may provide safer havens and more privacy than more highly populated spots. In one, someone was silhouetted by the sunset, leaning against what looked like a juvenile oak, with a massive hand wrapped halfway around the trunk, naked except for the tattered remains of denim shorts hanging off their waist. In another, blurrier one taken at night, a figure is turned toward the camera with what might be surprise, their body language leaning more strongly towards flight than fight, their half crouch and wide hips registering a familiarity that I could almost place. Could it be…

“Dwayne!” I was snapped back to reality by a jarring slap against my shoulder, throwing me off balance and almost sending me toppling into the display. “Oh, I’m so sorry, dude. Forget my own strength sometimes,” the figure continued with a chuckle.

The voice I recognized, and as I got my bearings I could confirm that it was indeed Arun’s beaming smile and signature thick mustache over pouty, full lips. I had met them a couple times but mainly knew them through social media. They were the partner of my ex boyfriend, Sky, and they were picking me up to take me deeper into the mountains to the cabin they shared. For months, Sky had been trying to convince me to come up for a weekend getaway out of town, and I had finally relented, figuring I could call it a writing retreat and maybe get some work done. Worried I would get lost on my own, Arun was to be my chauffeur from the very fringe of town to the house somewhere in the woods, and now here they were, in the flesh. Golden yellow beanie matched by glittery gold eyeliner, contrasting with a bulky work jacket and noticeably oversized pants. It didn’t seem Arun’s style from what I remembered, but they were in the mountains now, and I guessed they had to look the part. They also seemed much wider than the figure that I had maintained in my mind’s eye, enveloping me in a big bear hug that threatened to lift me off the ground.

“So good to see you,” they said. “And sorry for being late, my supply runs always take longer than I expect and I was counting on the bus being delayed per usual. Hope you weren’t waiting too long.”

“Nah, he just got here,” said the attendant with renewed interest. “We’ve been chattin’ it up. How’s my dearest Sky?”

“A handful, as always,” said Arun with a friendly nudge into my side, one I was ready for this time. “I see you’ve met Lacy,” they said to me. “Our next door neighbor.”

“By next door they mean like five miles,” Lacy said to me. “By the way, thanks again for the help with our roof. Sasha is making Sky one of her famous sweet potato pies. Finished the big brick oven just to scale it up.”

“Oh he loves those, he’ll be so happy,” said Arun, clapping his hands together in delight.

“The roof? Are you and Sky into contracting these days?” I offered, trying to ingratiate myself into the conversation. 

“Not exactly,” said Arun. “Sasha has all the know how, but Sky is…pretty useful for big projects.”

“Both of you are, you’re a dream team! You should go into business.”

“Hmmm, we’ll see,” said Arun with a nervous laugh. “Still dealing with a lot of adjustments on the property.” 

—

Once Lacy and Arun had eventually finished shooting the shit, Arun ushered me out of the convenience store and into a pickup truck parked out front. It looked only several years old, with a decent amount of rust around the edges and mud sprayed along the side, albeit with some newer looking reinforcements around the body. “You should see the chassis,” Arun mentioned. “Got it reinforced by a guy who works with monster trucks, the suspension on this thing is phenomenal.”

It was another hour of driving before we would reach the cabin, for a while on the county road that the bus dropped me off on, then some less than well maintained backroads through the woods. It was scenic to say the least, as we climbed slowly up into the foothills, late afternoon sun lighting up the autumn-toned valley in the distance and casting auspicious shadows over some small, sleepy town. The trees had reached that point where they painted waves of reds, oranges, and golds across the landscape and had just started to let go of their leaves as if cut neatly by the chill that sharpened the air. I had regretted putting this trip off for so long, but it looked like I had accidentally picked the right time in the season to pop in. On top of that, Arun was an eager conversationalist, filling the space between us with the very prominent, and very endearing, lisp that ran under his soft voice.

“Sorry if I’m talking your ear off,” they said, their eyes scanning the winding curves ahead of us. “It’s just we never get visitors out here. And Sky is such a homebody, he’s always so nervous about leaving the property or venturing out any farther than Lacy and Sasha’s. I’m hoping to drag him out somewhere while the weather’s still nice. Need to get the truck upgraded again before that. Always adjusting for that l’il dude,” they laughed. “But in the meantime, we have you!” They patted my leg in appreciation, smothering my thigh. I couldn’t help but notice their hands were huge. While the left was steering, the right was nimbly working the gear shift, but I didn’t think they could both fit together on the wheel, which looked dwarfed by just a few fingers. I didn’t remember noticing that in the past, but I had only met them in passing a few times.

“So it seems like you two are doing pretty well,” I said. “Not that I was concerned or anything, it’s just I work with a lot of folks who have Sky’s condition and it can really strain relationships.”

“Well that’s one way to put it,” said Arun, their eyes lilting briefly among the clouds, “but yeah, we’re doing great! We’re really making it work, adjusting to his needs, growing through it all. Pun intended.” Their bright smile in my direction.

Not that I was concerned about how my ex was doing for any nefarious reasons. I was genuinely happy to see things going so well with Arun. When Sky and I had ended things years ago, it had been amicable. I was drowning in grad school and he was trying to get his art career off the ground, and we just couldn’t find a way to fit the pieces together. We decided to take a ‘break’ that ended up lasting indefinitely, but we kept in touch. Of course I missed him, I still miss him. When things were going well, it was like sparks flying, and when they weren’t…they weren’t. When Arun came into the picture, it seemed like they provided the grounding force in Sky’s life that he really needed, and I was happy to see it. So when Sky first texted me about his diagnosis, I immediately began to worry about things potentially falling apart.

I try to be careful around the ethics of providing any sort of unofficial counseling, especially for a condition that so little is still known about, but I cared about him, so of course I talked through the changes with him, what to expect, connections to resources and support groups. I also just enjoyed having an excuse to reconnect. We had drifted apart for years and I got to become reacquainted with the life he had built. And like always, some things have a knack for staying the same.

“You know how much he enjoyed being a l’il guy,” Arun reminisced.

“Yeah, he was always really good at being 5’6”.”

“So good at being 5’6”!” We both laughed. “And I mean he’s still a l’il guy. He’s my l’il guy. Just…in some ways and not others.”

I had known some of the highlights of Sky’s growth based on our previous conversations, but Arun used our time together to fill me in on their more in depth story.

“There was kind of the predictable denial phase,” they said. “Sky kept downplaying things or mentioning how his posture was really improving through yoga or he was just gaining some weight, but I was like no, you’re definitely bigger. Like all around. This one time we were out with some friends singing karaoke and the seat of his pants just blew out right there on stage. And by then none of his clothes reached down near his ankles anymore so it was hard to keep denying it. He was pretty embarrassed about it.”

“Did he finish the–”

“Of course he finished the song,” Arun sighed with an exasperated roll of their eyes.

Sky had reached out to me shortly after being diagnosed, when, according to him, he suddenly found himself rising slightly above Arun’s six foot frame. Judging by the text conversations between me and Sky, Arun seemed to think it was cool but their partner was acutely annoyed. 

“For a while it was neat because we could kinda split a wardrobe,” Arun said. “But Sky’s not a fan of my fashion sense. He kept wanting to adjust things or buy me things that were actually just for him. Then eventually, well…he was starting to stretch out even my roomier stuff. So we start getting creative, adjusting things, sewing new pieces. There are some great resources out there for how to size up your wardrobe. But also, after a while, he just wasn’t really going out as much. I think our friends were a little weird about it, you must know how people can get freaked out, but he didn’t want to address it directly. Just poured himself deeper into work.”

“Yeah, I remember him mentioning that,” I said. “Focusing more on his studio work.”

“Mmhm! Well eventually we had to move the studio into my place, since his old apartment was kind of a hovel. Not that I was complaining. It was getting past time for us to at least experiment with cohabitation. We were practically already there. And I had someone to clean the tops of the shelves. And the door frames. And the air vents…”

“I remember feeling too cozy in Sky’s old place,” I laughed. “But when did you move out here? I haven’t heard much from him in a while, he kind of disappeared.”

“Hmm, maybe after the third or fourth renovation? Sometimes he would kind of get…stuck moving around the house, and got pretty self-conscious about it. In the city, you only have so much room to make room, ya know, and I think he started feeling pretty cramped. One time the door frame caught around his hips and I had to shove him through. But then it just crumbled around him. Plaster everywhere, it was a whole thing.”

“...Huh.”

“I thought it was hilarious but he seemed pretty upset about. Which I get. I was planning on overhauling that entire part of the house anyways, but we figured we could officially move in together somewhere new. And get some space from all the hustle and bustle and attention. I make enough to support us and I can work from anywhere, so we were flexible, and my former boss was trying to get rid of this property out in the middle of nowhere. It was fate!”

After winding along some side road of a side road, we rolled onto a patch of gravel that looked like it served as a makeshift parking lot, pulling up next to a shiny new 4x4 utility vehicle. The cabin was on the other side of a clearing, and turned out to be much more than the glorified shack that I had pictured in my head. Arun hadn’t mentioned much about what they do for work, beyond the fact that it’s some sort of cushy consulting gig that lets them work from the comfort of what looked to be a two-story glamping experience that apparently they could afford. It was a picturesque, stately log cabin that looked like it was designed to catch the soft light of the setting sun, partially covered in vines and partially under construction. What looked to be the newest addition was a big sliding barn door along the side that ran most of the way to the roof, capped by a small balcony with a handful of houseplants and late season herbs.

I hopped out of the truck, stretching my arms over my head to elicit some satisfying pops from my back and shoulders, taking in my surroundings. The ground was a carpet of partially decomposed leaf litter and humus, a colorful expanse marked by strangely shaped depressions spaced evenly across the scene.

Arun had taken off his jacket and begun to unload the storage totes, crates, and bags full of stuff, as well as what looked like some carpentry and construction materials, that over-filled the truck bed. With this haul, one would think we were preparing for societal collapse and had to hunker down until the summer months. I was impressed by how effortlessly they seemed to be throwing things around, balancing a stack of crates in one hand as they hoisted some two by fours in the other. But I was blown away by the image of Arun in a tank top. They were a wall of muscle across their chest and back, pecs, traps, and lats bunching and flexing visibly as they moved. They looked like a career bodybuilder, exploding with striated, pumped musculature, the straps of their tank top holding on for dear life across the shelf of pecs. But attached to their boulder shoulders was what confirmed my initial suspicions: their arms were massive. Not just a crescendo of muscularity like the rest of their body, but disproportionately extensive. In the few times we had met, I didn’t remember them looking like they had the strength and wingspan to lift their truck and start benching it like a toy.

“Like I said, we’re always adjusting, growing through it all,” said Arun, acknowledging the fact that I was dumb staring. “Can you grab this one?” they asked, pushing a crate towards me. “I think it’s just produce, shouldn’t be too heavy.” 

I was only mildly offended as I lugged my single crate full of wholesale groceries, watching their wide lats and massive traps hold several times any weight that I could ever hope to move, as they half-walked, half-waddled towards the cabin, dropping off the first load near a cellar entrance. On the way, we passed by a spiral staircase in the middle of the clearing that led to seemingly nowhere. Just a wooden platform with some plain railings about twenty feet off the ground. We got everything unloaded after one more trip, not that I was all that much help, but Arun still showed their appreciation with a hefty pat on the back. Thankfully, they remembered to hold back this time and not send me careening into the side of the house.

“Hey, babe!” Arun called, using their dinner plate sized hands as a makeshift megaphone. “I’m back. Lacy sends her love.” They moved toward the wooden structure, muttering “He’s probably taking a nap” as they lumbered up the steps. 

Not knowing what else to do, I figured I might as well start moseying up with Arun, since even though they looked like they were going nowhere, they seemed like they knew where they were going. But I was caught off guard by the slight drop of my foot into another one of those weird depressions in the leaf litter. I studied it again for a few seconds, the shape of it right on the tip of my tongue, brought forward in my mind by the sound of leaves and twigs crunching en masse, the light periodic thump against the ground getting closer and closer behind me. It was like a really, really big…footprint.

“Finally,” bellowed a familiar voice. “You’re home.”

I turned, with disbelief and intense recognition, to see Sky coming around the corner of the cabin, rubbing sleep out of his eye and stretching his arms wide with a deep, satisfying yawn, letting one hand casually graze the vines training off the balcony as he made his way over to Arun.

My eyes went through the checklist of my usual mental image of Sky. His hair was an undercut with a messy bun on top and dyed its usual lavender, though the roots had really grown out. His nails were painted a charcoal gray, fiddling with the straps of a tight fitting tank top cropped right below his nipples. The curves of his hips swished back and forth with all too familiar gait that said he was excited but didn’t want to reveal that too strongly, under a short skirt that looked to be made of large pieces of fabric sewn together with some skill, elastic run through for a waistband. It was just what I expected to see from Sky chilling out in some cabin in the woods. I just hadn’t been planning on him being almost as tall as the cabin itself.

Suddenly the platform, with Arun waiting patiently for their beau, made a lot more sense. Sky crossed the space between them with a handful of steps, walking up to the platform where Arun was just above eye level. They leaned down to place their huge hands on either side of Sky’s face, giving him a series of tender kisses wherever they could reach.

“Hey, bug. You get into trouble without me?” Arun asked. 

Sky nuzzled his face into Arun’s slabs of pectoral muscle, but with the size difference it looked like him shoving his large head against Arun’s entire torso. “I really missed you. You know I get nervous without you. It can be scary out here alone. And also…” he bit his lip and tightened his grip on the railing, threatening to crush the wood in his hands without even trying, before Arun shot him a stern look that said that accident had already occurred in the past. “And also,” Sky continued, “I need that–”

“I know, I know,” Arun cooed, holding Sky’s head against their chest with those massive arms. “But look, we have a guest!” He swept a hand towards me, watching this surreal dynamic from the ground.

“Oh! Dwayne, it’s so good to see you,” exclaimed Sky, realizing, as he stepped closer to me, that I was right at the height of his prodigious package tenuously wrapped in what looked like some sort of makeshift jockstrap. His cheeks blushed as he tried to cover his manhood and still failed with both hands. I remember him being decently hung but it seemed like his junk really took off faster than the rest of him. “Sorry, it’s usually just me and Arun,” he said, crouching down for an awkward hug. Quickly realizing his chest was too broad to even attempt, I settled on wrapping my arms around his neck, my face brushing against the familiar expanse of warm stubble along his cheek. He smelled just like I remembered. Instead of breaking the embrace, I felt the ground leave my feet and with a whoosh of air and suddenly I was up on the platform with Arun before I fully realized what had happened.

“Sometimes it’s easier to talk this way,” said Arun, noticing my slight disorientation, “but you gotta warn people dude, remember?”

In my line of work, I felt like I had seen it all, but it was immediately obvious that Sky was one of the more extreme cases, which explained the inconsistent behavior and strange disappearance months ago. In the event that someone grows past a certain threshold, they’re deemed a significant risk to civil society, whether through infrastructural damage or social disruption, and some health agency comes and picks them up for ‘further treatment’, though it’s never been clear what that means. We’re technically supposed to report the risk of this happening, but I’m not a snitch. And besides, sometimes things get too hot and they take an extended vacation or just…disappear into the woods.

I’d known Sky had the syndrome since he was first diagnosed, and of course we’d spoken about his developments over time, but it was still surreal standing on that platform and getting a good look at him in the flesh. He was still the same, shy, anxious twink but it was like someone clicked the Scale function and started scrolling up. He had the exact same mannerisms as we caught up about life, just magnified, leaning his elbows on the platform and resting his chin in his palms as he gazed intently at me with those big, deep brown, thoughtful pools of his eyes. Things hadn’t worked out between us, but it had been an amicable split, and there was still some mutual attraction there. This was complicated by the realization that, like his dick, his perky bubble butt that I used to be obsessed with had ballooned cartoonishly with his growing body, two planets defying gravity and threatening to take out whoever’s in the path of the swish of his hips. As he bent down to pick up our things and bring them in the cabin, I could have passed out into Arun’s strong embrace right then and there.

Arun worked their magic with a grill and a camp stove, whipping up a feast in the waning hours of daylight. “I was thinking ramen!” they exclaimed, as if they weren’t already stirring the noodles around what could only be described as a cauldron. Sky sat cross legged with an entire platter spread across a tabletop in his lap, practically inhaling a meal that could’ve fed a family of five.

“It’s kind of hard for me to cook,” he said, with an apologetic squint in his eyes. “But we’re working on some bigger equipment, right?”

“One project of many,” said Arun, with sage-like grace. “But I like taking care of you,” they said, with a loving pat to Sky’s round buns covering the ground. I wondered how much of Arun’s day to day just consisted of keeping Sky content, in more ways than one. But they seemed genuinely happy keeping their partner satisfied, leaning against one expansive hip as they ate from their own plate.

As dusk progressed to night, we hung out by the fire. Sky laid on his side with his massive head on Arun’s lap, hips forming a small hill in the darkness. He gave the appearance of trying to cuddle up as close as possible to his partner, even though they were comically mismatched for the task. Nonetheless, Arun gave lazy caresses along Sky’s ears and cheeks, interspersed with a kiss here and there.

“When I was in town, I passed by that new club, Bamboo,” said Arun. “Have you been?”

“Ugh I don’t get out anymore,” I said. “But I heard they have sufficiently messy circuit parties.”

“Sufficiently messy is our thing, we should go sometime!”

“You remember what happened last time,” said Sky, stifling a yawn.

“Yeah, yeah, but anything is possible with some good ol’ fashioned communication and planning,” said Arun, showing an impressive dedication to steadfast optimism. “But maybe somewhere less crowded. Like the beach?”

“Hmm,” he perked up. “Maybe,” earning an approving peck from his partner.

—

The interior of the cabin had been majorly renovated to remove most of the second floor, leaving a single multi use sitting room + office space + bedroom in a cozy loft with a private balcony. This weekend, it was a guest room for yours truly, though according to Arun I was their first guest in this place. “First of many,” they hoped. It overlooked the open space of the rest of the house, which was dominated by an expansive bed covered in a sea of sheets, blankets, and quilts. Sky, who apparently still insisted on being little spoon, looked adorable curled up against Arun, completely dwarfing him except for those huge arms wrapped snugly around his chest.

I fell asleep thinking about the beach. Sky and I had loved taking trips there when we were together. He always seemed at peace with the lapping of the waves, toes dug into the warm sand, salt flecked wind coming off the water. I just loved seeing his bubble butt in a wet speedo. And of course, seeing him happy.

I dreamt of waking up on a lazy afternoon during one of our beach days, my sun kissed skin touching an open book whose words I couldn’t make out. I turned to my left, expecting to see Sky but only seeing an empty towel. Over here, said his disembodied voice, but my head on a swivel, I couldn’t seem to find him. No, over here, again. Looking out to the sea, I could just discern his figure out in the water, walking slowly in toward the shore. The sun hanging low in the sky, his silhouette only gradually seemed to be getting closer, but did seem to be growing much, much bigger. As his body emerged from the water and I could make out more of his features, I saw that he was naked, pendulous dick swinging down towards his knees, the globes of his ass eclipsing the Sun as it fell slowly to the horizon and he rose higher and higher in the sky. As he reached the shore, I could feel his foot falls reverberating across the beach. I missed you, he bellowed, taking up my entire field of vision, one gargantuan hand reaching down and–

I woke in the early morning, coming back to reality with the aftershocks of the dream still bouncing around my head. Strangely, I could still feel the reverberation of the foot falls on the beach, realizing it was something along the outside wall. I ignored it for a bit, hoping to catch some more sleep, before an especially strong vibration shook the bed.

“Ooo, be careful. I don’t want to wake Dwayne,” I heard Sky outside, trying to whisper.

Bleary eyed, I rolled out of bed, stumbling to the balcony. Looking down, Sky was crouched on all fours, bracing himself against the wall with one hand. He was naked, his massive bubble butt arched behind him as he rocked slowly back and forth. My half-asleep mind thought he was just doing stretches, but I caught myself before announcing my presence and reassuring him that I was already awake. His soft moans sounded unmistakably familiar, the exact sound he used to make when I would…oh.

Arun’s head was completely enveloped in Sky’s ass cheeks as, I now assumed, they were eating him out for breakfast. I could only see their ripped torso and muscle butt, also totally nude, coordinating their entire body for an olympic size rim job. Their arms were covered in a sheen of sweat as their hands gripped the underside of each cheek, sinking into Sky’s jiggly booty, and occasionally giving him an energetic slap (full strength this time).

“Are you ready?” Sky whispered, then an unintelligible, muffled response from Arun deep in his cheeks.

I was about to tip toe back inside to give them some privacy when I noticed what Sky was waiting on. I don’t think I had fully registered the appendage attached to Arun’s crotch because I didn’t know what to make of it, but I quickly realized why they had worn such baggy pants yesterday. Their dick looked like it could rival Sky’s leaking monster oozing a puddle of precum on the ground. As I watched, it had progressed past the semi hard log resting against Arun’s shins, appearing to inflate as it grew and grew, crawling along the ground before, miraculously, lifting itself into the air several feet in front of Arun.

“Almost there,” said Arun, after pulling their head out of Sky’s cheeks, taking thirsty gulps of air. They started to take deep, intentional breaths, their face contorting in concentration as their monster cock reached full hardness, pulsing and twitching against Sky’s taint. “You ready?” they asked, waddling backwards to position their heavy dick at Sky’s waiting hole.

“Please, it’s been so long,” said Sky.

“It’s been like two days,” chuckled Arun, before plunging their unbelievable tool into their partner, eliciting a deep moan of pleasure from Sky. If they had had any more concern about waking their guest, it was long gone, lost in the grunts and groans of what sounded like mind blowing wake up sex. Arun settled into a rhythm of powerful thrusts, using their monstrously long arms to move Sky up and down their pole, Sky moving in tandem as he rocked back and forth on his partner’s dick. Sky’s own massive member slapped against the bottom of his sternum with a wet thwack as his beach ball sized nuts distended toward the ground. He settled into an even deeper arch as Arun apparently hit the spot, both of them building toward monumental orgasm. As Sky painted the wall with what must have been gallons of cum, Arun seemed to do the same to his insides, jizz leaking out of Sky’s hole as Arun continued pumping in orgasmic bliss.

Sky cooed as Arun slowly pulled out, taking small steps back in order to reveal foot after foot of unimaginable dick to the morning air. I was still having trouble mentally processing the image. Sky having become a literal giant I think I had successfully wrapped my head around, that wasn’t my first rodeo, but for some reason my brain rejected the unreality of what looked like several feet of schlong extending from Arun’s crotch. Sky shivered as Arun’s massive head popped out of his hole, Arun’s dick audibly slamming against the ground as they leaned back in to rest their head on Sky’s gargantuan booty, breathing heavy with exhaustion. Sky leaned his head back with a final post-coital aftershock of pleasure, sighing deeply into the morning mist and letting his eyes dance in the swirls and eddies, before landing on me, frozen in rapt fascination.

“Oh! Uh. G’morning,” he said, cheeks red as the sunrise.

[silverfootstepswrites]

Butterfly [17]

summary Time’s a strange fellow...

“You’re kidding,” Ino said into her ear.

Sakura’s phone sat propped up in a neon blue cradle. The bunny ears stuck up behind it. With the bluetooth earbud stuck in her right ear, she didn’t have to worry about cords getting tangled up with her arms when she moved around. She couldn’t count the number of times she had ripped her earbuds out as she worked out. Wireless earbuds were on at the top of her list of favorite presents she had ever received. 

Sakura lifted her head to see Ino frowning at her from the screen. She looked back down at the ground, staring between her fisted hands. All her weight bearing down on her forearms, she swiveled her hips from side to side. Her core tightening and straining with the effort. 

“I’m not,” Sakura replied. Letting out a sigh, she collapsed onto her mat to catch her breath. 

“Didn’t you say you come from the boonies? What is there even to do out there?” Ino demanded. 

Sakura rose to her knees. She adjusted the phone cradle to angle the camera toward her face. 

Ino sat at her kitchen table, a bowl of cereal in front of her. The orange tail of her cat waved around behind her as it strutted around the counters. 

“Hi, Maron-chan!” Sakura called. The cat meowed at the sound of its name. 

Ino crunched through another mouthful of cereal. 

“You know, sometimes I think you like my cat better than you like me,” Ino grumbled.

“Oh yeah. Definitely,” Sakura replied without hesitation. Ino gave her a flat look.

“You should come visit me, Ino-chan. Take a break from the city,” Sakura then suggested. She looked away to take a sip of her water. Ino’s spoon clicked against the side of the bowl. More crunching as she chewed.

“Dream on, country bumpkin. Tokyo or bust,” answered Ino. And then she spat as her long hair got caught in her mouth. Sakura snickered at her. She got back in a plank position, ignoring the burning in her core muscles. There was a thump that made her raise her head again. Ino had her foot up on the table now. She had bright purple strips overlapping together. They covered the sole of her foot before the ran up to cover most of her ankles. 

“By the way, thanks for introducing me to this stuff. I actually don’t feel like dying now,” Ino said through a mouthful of cereal. 

“Right? It really helped with my knee a lot last year,” Sakura agreed. She had been skeptical about the odd-looking tape at first. But she had used it to support her ankles, her calves, even her shoulders. When Ino had mentioned how much her feet ached, Sakura hadn’t hesitated to share her secret. Sakura preferred using beige so that it was invisible under her tights. But she wasn’t surprised that Ino would choose the flashiest color available. 

Letting out a deep breath, she dipped her hips from side to side. Back and forth. Feeling her stomach muscles flexing and straining. Ino’s spoon clinked against the bowl a few more times. And then her chair scraped across the floor. The water ran as she washed her bowl and spoon, leaving them to dry in the dishwasher. When Ino returned, Sakura was back on the floor, huffing. 

As Sakura lifted herself up, her arms and shoulders flexed. Ino let out a whistle.

“Look who’s still ja-a-aaaacked. Even though you’re retiiiiired,” Ino sang. Sakura laughed. 

“Gotta stay in shape,” Sakura said. 

“To fight off those haters. Ooh, girl, look at those Ronda Rousey arms,” Ino gushed, fanning herself like a Southern belle. Sakura could only laugh harder. 

“Anyway, the Tokyo Ballet School’s been reaching out to us for guest teachers. Maybe I’ll put my name in,” Ino suddenly told her, examining her nails. 

“Cool,” Sakura answered.

“But I’m not visiting you in the boonies. You come up to Tokyo,” Ino stipulated.

“Less cool,” amended Sakura.

She glanced down at her watch. Sighing, she slapped her hands against her thighs once. 

“Alright, I gotta go, Ino-chan," Sakura announced. She picked her phone up with one hand and the bunny-shaped cradle with the other. 

"Yeah," Ino sighed, "Guess I should start getting ready for tomorrow. Let's talk soon."

"Good night, Ino-chan."

"Have a good day, Sakura."

Sakura ended the call. She turned off her earbud and pocketed it. It took her a minute to pack everything into her bag. After a last swig from her water bottle, she hoisted her gear onto her shoulder. She pushed the door open with her hip, out into the morning air. It was already warm, promising another hot day.

Konoha had never had its own gym. Or a ballet studio. Growing up, she had biked to the town over to train. But that was one of the inevitable things about growing up in a small town like Konoha. In nice weather, the bike rides had been a pleasant extra workout. And in the winter, there was always someone willing to give her a lift. 

Sakura didn't remember what had happened to her old bike. Maybe they'd sold it or given it to a neighbor's kid. Whatever the case, it was gone. So one of the first things Sakura had done after moving back to Konoha was buy a new bike. It was mint green with a little basket in the front. She tossed her water bottle and keys into it whenever she rode around. 

She could have easily driven. There was nothing wrong with the car she had inherited from her parents. But it seemed like a waste to drag it out of the driveway. And with the mostly unpaved roads in town, it was actually easier to navigate with a bike than a car.

By the time she got to the rink, it was only 9 am, and she was already sweating. Minato greeted her from behind the counter, still in his pajamas. The rink wouldn't open for another hour, but he was looking through the receipts from the last week. 

Although Sakura hogged the rink most evenings, apparently the place was still attracting customers. Part of it, she knew, had to do with the knowledge that she skated here. That alone attracted some curious folk. It was also because in the mornings and early afternoons, Minato taught a beginner's skate class. Business really picked up in the summer when kids (and their parents) would do anything to stay out of the heat. 

She spent an easy hour on the ice, partly to cool off and partly to run through Haku's routine a few more times. The changes they had made would ensure him a higher technical score. But artistry had always been Haku's weak point. She made a few adjustments to some parts of the step sequence. Moved some of the elements around. She kept note of it in her phone, typing between tries.

And at the end of the hour, she sent all her changes to Haku in a big text. Then, she headed home to shower. She biked past Naruto on his jog and rang her bell at him a few times. He waved in return.

Wet hair wrapped in a towel, Sakura stood in her room. Hands on her hips. Staring into the depths of her closet. 

Her closet had always been divided into two sections: athletic wear and anything else. As the years went on, and she started to gain popularity, companies had taken notice of her too. It started off with little accessories. Socks. A hat. But then she started receiving bigger boxes. Shirt and pants. Full tracksuits. Backpacks and sneakers. 

When he was a teen, Haku had been roughly the same size as her. She had given him a lot of the extras. Ripped jeans and flannel shirts were some of his favorites. Beanies, too. He always dressed in layers, which he claimed made him look bigger. Which, she supposed, made sense given how slight he was. Even as an adult.

During her career, she had either been on the ice or traveling to be on the ice. Unfortunately, this meant that as a grown woman, Sakura owned joggers in every color and print imaginable. She had long and short leggings. The kind with mesh and the kind with patterns. Not to even begin to mention the moisture-wicking shirts. She had them in every brand and every style. Long-sleeved, sleeveless, cropped. She also had enough fancy sports bras to not have to do laundry for months. 

Pushed to the left side of her closet were her work clothes. She had a few blouses, skirts, and slacks that she rotated. 

There should have been, she thought, something in-between. Because it seemed that women in Japan favored airy blouses and cardigans. Cute skirts in pastels seemed to be an added bonus. 

"Well," Sakura said out loud. Like that would do anything. 

In the end, she headed out in sneakers and a t-shirt. And since it was hot, she wore shorts, too. Just in case anyone recognized her, she completed the look with a snapback and rose-colored sunglasses. With her bright hair tucked into the hat, she thought, it wouldn't be as easy to recognize her. 

The address Itachi had messaged her was in a town further up the coast. It  took about half an hour by car. And by the time she parked, it felt like the sun was trying to punish the earth. She fanned herself with one hand as she reread his message. It led her to a narrow building with ivy climbing up the drainpipe. Three stone steps led up to the glass door. A wooden sign hung on the glass that read: Art.

When Sakura pulled the door, a bell tinkled. A blast of cold air baptized her as she stepped inside. 

The interior of the gallery was as narrow as she had expected. But in exchange, it was tall. Sunlight streamed in from the skylights. There was a small table by the entrance. A guestbook sat opened along with a stack of business cards and a glass box with a slot cut into the top. 

"Welcome. Admission is 300 yen," a woman greeted her. 

Sakura dug in her pocket to find change. She dropped it into the glass box and stepped into the gallery. From the signs and pamphlets, Sakura gathered that this was an exhibition for a local artist. Her theme seemed to be paintings of nature. Not a particularly unique concept, but beautiful nonetheless. 

Sakura spotted Itachi towards the back of the gallery. He was wearing glasses. His arms folded across his chest. He tilted his head to one side as he observed a large canvas. 

"I still don't know what you meant by doing you a favor," Sakura said as she settled in next to him. 

Itachi glanced at her, a faint smile on his lips. The frames of his glasses were speckled brown and black in a tortoise shell pattern. 

"Sorry to disrupt your Saturday," he apologized. Sakura shrugged. 

"I wasn't dragged here against my will. No need to be sorry," she answered. He didn't say anything else.  

Sakura leaned in to read the plaque. It read "The Ocean" in kanji. There was no description. No fancy history of when or how it had been created. Just the name under the unframed canvas. 

She had never been one for museums. But she had seen on TV how people were supposed to react. So she looked over the painting, nodding a little. Like she was thinking big, important thoughts. When really she wondered how long it would take to paint something like this.

Itachi pushed something into her hands. She started. Looked down at the tablet she was now holding. Sakura opened the case. The screen woke, glowing softly. Itachi pushed an icon, nudging windows around until he had two apps running at once. 

"You'll need this to do my favor," he told her. 

Sakura looked from him to the huge painting. And then down at the tablet held in her arms. The software he had opened up on the left had some kind of color picker. On the right was a simple document for her to write notes. 

"These are called hex codes. When you see the right color in the picker, write down the code," Itachi instructed her. He leaned over to show her how to drag the selector across the screen. The combination of letters and numbers changed as he moved.

"For example, what color would you say my shirt is?" inquired Itachi. 

Sakura's gaze flickered to his outfit. A thin t-shirt and jeans. 

"It's grey," she replied. And then she looked down at the screen. She pulled the marker to the left. And then up a bit. 

"Sort of... there," she muttered to herself. The box on the top left of the screen displayed a string of numbers and letters. The hex code for that shade of grey.

"Great. So now try it with this," Itachi prompted, gesturing to the painting in front of them. "What color is the ocean to you?"

Sakura blinked a few times. Her eyes roving over the canvas. She stared at the rainbow gradient on the tablet screen. And then she sighed.

“…Are you sure?” Sakura hedged. She ran her finger along the color picker. Cycling through pinks that bled into purple, then blue, then green. 

“I told you. I’m not much of an artist,” she said. 

 “I’m sure,” Itachi replied. Smiling, for some reason when their eyes met. He lifted his gaze back to the painting on the wall. Waves crashing against a cliff, water foaming white when it sprayed against the rocks. 

“What color is the ocean to you?” Itachi asked her again.

"So... you want the color of ....say... the water?" she asked, glancing at Itachi again. He nodded, thumb still on his chin as he watched her. 

Her eyes flickered to the painting. She squinted at the brush strokes that formed the waves. Her pointer finger swiped the colors into the bluish-green range. And then she moved her finger around until the settled on something like a light teal. Her lower lip stuck out. She wrote down the hex code on the right side of the screen, under the word ‘ocean’. But then she adjusted the colors, edging more toward green. She picked about four more shades, jotting those down too.

“Sorry. It’s just… there’s a bunch of colors in the water. Is this too much?” Sakura asked, still writing down the strings of letters and numbers. And when she looked at Itachi again he almost looked like he might cry.

“No. It’s perfect,” he answered.

He didn't speak as she moved on to the grass covering the top of the cliffs.   Next was the sky. Almost gold in some parts, white in others. She found the ochre of the stones in the water. The pastel yellow of the sand on the beach. 

They spent the better part of an hour that way. They cycled through a few paintings in the exhibition. Sakura finding the right colors and recording the hex codes. 

After she recorded the colors of a particularly lush painting, a forest scene with tall trees, Sakura stole a glance at Itachi. 

“One more?” she asked, pointing at a scene comprised of lilacs and pinks. 

To her surprise, Itachi took the tablet from her. He scrolled through the lists she had made. And then he closed the cover of the case. 

“Do you like seafood?” Itachi queried.

“Huh?”

The restaurant Itachi took her to was beyond obscure. If he hadn’t led her straight to the door, she would have missed it a million times over. It was located in a white building, a small purple sign hanging above the door displayed its name. There was little else around besides some apartments and a supermarket down the road. 

It was a tiny place with a handful of tables and chairs. It was spartan but clean. The laminated menus only had a few options. But Sakura barely glanced them over because Itachi had convinced her with two words at the art gallery:

Hyuga Don

It was one of the specialties of this area. A bowl of rice piled high with slices of fresh tuna. Such a simple idea. But that taste lived in a special corner of Sakura’s heart. Out of all the delicious foods she had eaten on her travels, none could ever replace the taste of Hyuga Don. 

Itachi leaned back in his seat, elbow resting on the back of the chair beside him. He removed his glasses, tucking them in the front of his shirt. He rubbed the marks they’d left on the bridge of his nose. 

“I stumbled on this place when I moved to Konoha. It’s amazing,” Itachi informed her. 

The owner of the place was an old woman. She took their orders and served them tea poured over ice. As they waited for the food, Sakura snapped a shot of the glasses, condensation slipping down the sides. She fiddled with the saturation and highlights for a while. 

“So do you do this a lot? Go to exhibits and ask people to write down the colors in the paintings?” asked Sakura, looking up from her phone. She set it facedown on the table. 

“Yes to the first part. Not the second,” he replied. And before she could ask him to elaborate, the food arrived.

Sakura grudgingly admitted that this was a darn good donburi. 

“Well, not bad... for an outsider’s pick, anyway,” she then added. “There’s an incredible place in Tsukumi. Remind me to send you the address.” 

They split the bill right down the middle. And then, as they got up, Itachi smiled at her. 

“Thank you. For your help,” Itachi uttered. 

“Yeah. Of course,” she replied. Still unsure as to how, exactly, she had been helpful at all. 

June bled into July. And it was clear that this heat wasn’t going to go away anytime soon. Sometimes, when Sakura needed a break, she snuck into the air conditioned science room to gab with Orochimaru. And he always had cookies or rice crackers to split with her as they chatted between his classes. Sometimes she helped him sort beakers and glass slides as they spoke. 

“The Asian Open Trophy is in Hong Kong this year. I’m thinking of flying out to go watch,” Orochimaru confessed. 

“That’s during summer vacation, Sensei. Why not?” answered Sakura. And then she added, “Why not take your grandson? Does Mitsuki-kun like ice skating?” 

Orochimaru shook his head. “He mostly likes video games.”

“Heathen,” she grumbled, making Orochimaru chuckle. 

As the hot days trickled on, Sakura pulled the old, inflatable pool out of storage. With Naruto’s help, they managed to blow it up and filled it with water from the garden hose before Kushina texted him to come home for dinner. Sakura dunked her feet into it as the sun went down. Cicadas chirping in an endless chorus around her. 

She let out a long sigh. Closed her eyes as she let the muggy air blow over her. 

In the distance, she could hear children’s voices. The crack of a baseball hitting a bat as they squeezed in one last game before going home for the night. 

And then, a deep woof interrupted the peace. 

“Oiiii! You home, Haruno?” a man shouted. 

Sakura ignored him. 

“HARUNO!” he yelled even louder. The dog howled along with him. 

Scowling, Sakura turned onto her side. And just as she considered throwing something over the fence at him, she heard the man let out a muffled “oof”. 

“Shut up, Inuzuka. You’re so irritating,” she heard Shikamaru scold. 

“You kicked me!” Kiba gasped. And she could hear them tussling. 

Sakura watched as a plastic bag came flying over her fence. Followed by Kiba’s body. His huge white dog followed. It bounded across the yard, heading straight for Sakura. 

“Akamaru! No!” Shikamaru called.

But it was too late. The dog came crashing into the inflatable pool. Dousing Sakura as a wave engulfed her. It soaked her to the bone before she could move out of the way. 

Sakura rose onto her elbows, spitting water. She dragged her hand across her face, pulling her hair aside. And when she wiped her eyes, she found Kiba sitting cross-legged in the grass. A sheepish grin on his face. Akamaru sat panting in the pool, his tongue lolling out the side of his mouth. Shikamaru leaned over the fence, grimacing. 

Sakura opened her mouth to say something. Akamaru chose that precise moment to give himself a vigorous shake. Sending more water flying out at her. The tag on his color jingled merrily with the movement.

“Uh.... hey, Haruno,” Kiba said.

“....Hey, Inuzuka,” she replied in a flat voice. 

Like a normal human being, Shikamaru went around to walk through the front door of the house. He smacked Kiba in the back of the head as Sakura wrung her hair and clothes out. And when Kiba glared, Shikamaru hit him several more times with the plastic bag in his hand. 

“Nara, could you get me a towel?” Sakura requested, keeping her voice perfectly level. 

She waited for Shikamaru to walk back into the house. He returned a few moments later with a pink towel from the bathroom. She wiped her face and arms down before she draped it over her hair. 

Sakura got to her feet. And without another word, she went into her house to change. 

“Nara, I’m scared,” she heard Kiba whisper.

“She’s going to end your life,” replied Shikamaru in a solemn voice. 

When she emerged several minutes later, Sakura returned to the backyard. Akamaru was out of the pool now. And when he spotted her scowl, he let out a whine. He lowered his head onto his paws, staring up at her with big, shining eyes. Kiba put his hand in his pocket, still giving that awkward smile.

“Heyyy, you. Feeling better?” he asked her. 

Sakura strode up to him. She shoved him in the chest with her foot and watched him topple backward. Ass-first. Into the pool. 

“Okay. We’re even,” declared Sakura, smirking. She turned to Shikamaru. 

“Drinks?” she suggested. Shikamaru shrugged one shoulder. 

“Inuzuka, you in?” asked Shikamaru. They both looked over at him. Akamaru was licking his face. Kiba pushed Akamaru away, blinking water out of his eyes. 

“Yeah. Sure,” he replied, grinning.