[Naruto] fic - Obito drabble, Ikebana drabble
Obito drabble
Obito dies sightless.
Rin removes Kakashi’s eye first so that the transplant will be as quick as possible. Looking into the empty, bloody socket on his teammate’s--his friend’s face, Obito wants to be sick. But 500 pounds of crushing rock smother the heaving of his lungs and stomach, and he has to focus on just keeping breathing because he’s a ninja, dammit, and Kakashi is getting his eye.
He wants Kakashi to look at him one last time, but Kakashi is slumped against the rock pinning him down, face tight with pain while Rin works, and Obito bets one last time that the reason he wears a mask is so that no one can see how he bites his lips to pieces. His last view of Kakashi is going to be this: the other’s profile hidden to the nose by a mask and an empty eye socket bisected by a deep wound. If it wasn’t for that shock of silver hair, Obito wouldn’t recognize him.
“It’s time,” Rin says, pale and wide-eyed but firm. When she places her palms on the side on his face, her hands are warm and steady.
“Kakashi,” Obito wheezes and stops. He’s dying and he wants to say something important and meaningful and he wants to say everything he’s thinking and feeling because he’ll never have another chance, and it’s too much--
“Obito,” Kakashi groans, head lolling towards him like that empty eye socket is trying to get a better look. “Obito, I--”
“I’m sorry,” Rin says, “but the eye is starting to hemorrhage.” And then there is only sharp, sharp pain and he wants it to be over, he wants to be at home in bed with the covers tucked high around him or on the practice fields sitting in the tall grass that itches his ankles while the team takes a break to eat lunch or at that dango shop Rin likes so much where he can take the excuse of the booth being small to squeeze in to Rin’s side. He wants it to be over. He wants to be dead.
It’s dark now, a black more deep than the night or the Uchiha cloak or the back of his eyelids. He’s still alive. He can feel the rock crushing his chest and the hard stone beneath his head. He can hear Rin say “Hold still” but it’s so far away and he hopes she doesn’t mean him, he hopes he isn’t screwing this up because everything feels still and he can’t move anything no matter how hard he strains. It’s like all of his muscles have been disconnected. Only screaming pain remains, and he just wants to float away.
“Obito?” There’s warmth on his arm. A hand. Rin. “Obito, it was a success. You’ve saved Kakashi twice now.” A hand grabs his in a hard grip. Too bony and large to be Rin’s. Kakashi.
“Obito?” His voice is fierce where Rin’s wavered. “You’ll always be with me, in this eye. I’ll never forget you.”
“You’re our teammate,” Rin agrees, choking on the words.
Obito dies in pain but with the smallest of smiles.
*
Ikebana
Besides once arranging coded messages in a flower shop window in Lightning Country in order to communicate with a paranoid contact, Kakashi has never seen the purpose of flower arrangements, not for birthdays or first dates or gravestones.
He’s seen plenty of arrangements over the years, even knows a little of ikebana from when he was four years old and the Academy was desperate to find something to teach him, even the kunochi arts, before the war got so bad a five year old genin was still a genin and needed in the field. Still, this might be the most interested in flowers he’s been in his life.
“It really catches your eye, doesn’t it,” Ino says cheerfully, stepping out of the shop. There’s a glint in her eye that says she’s scented a sale, but Kakashi can’t pull himself away.
It’s bright. Gaudy. Happy. Cheesy. Undeniable.
It’s a half-sphere of canary yellow carnations with two sunflowers for wide black eyes and a length of black pipe cleaner all arranged into a smiling face.
“Your ikebana teacher would prune you,” Kakashi says, speaking from experience. Ino’s face freezes in a smiling grimace and it’s good to know that Miwaka-sensei is still teaching.
It gets him in a twenty percent discount, so perhaps those classes weren’t a waste after all.
*
Some days Naruto wonders if he’s ever going to catch up. He’s been training with Lee on straight taijutsu, and he still can’t beat the other boy without using his Kyuubi-enhanced endurance to wear him down first. It makes him wonder--quietly, never out loud--if Jiraiya-sensei was right and he can’t beat Sasuke without using the bijuu.
And that--that’s not how Naruto wants to fight Sasuke, with his mind clouded with anger, using a power that’s not his own, because how will he ever get through to Sasuke if that’s the case?
Questions for another day because Naruto aches all over and after a cup of instant ramen, he’s going to bed. He’ll do laundry in the morning when his calves aren’t threatening to tear away from the rest of his legs.
Except sleep will have to wait because someone has broken into his apartment and left the most awesome flower arrangement Naruto has ever seen sitting on his bed with a small note poking out of the side.
Smile, the note reads in familiar writing. Naruto does.
Obito dies sightless.
Rin removes Kakashi’s eye first so that the transplant will be as quick as possible. Looking into the empty, bloody socket on his teammate’s--his friend’s face, Obito wants to be sick. But 500 pounds of crushing rock smother the heaving of his lungs and stomach, and he has to focus on just keeping breathing because he’s a ninja, dammit, and Kakashi is getting his eye.
He wants Kakashi to look at him one last time, but Kakashi is slumped against the rock pinning him down, face tight with pain while Rin works, and Obito bets one last time that the reason he wears a mask is so that no one can see how he bites his lips to pieces. His last view of Kakashi is going to be this: the other’s profile hidden to the nose by a mask and an empty eye socket bisected by a deep wound. If it wasn’t for that shock of silver hair, Obito wouldn’t recognize him.
“It’s time,” Rin says, pale and wide-eyed but firm. When she places her palms on the side on his face, her hands are warm and steady.
“Kakashi,” Obito wheezes and stops. He’s dying and he wants to say something important and meaningful and he wants to say everything he’s thinking and feeling because he’ll never have another chance, and it’s too much--
“Obito,” Kakashi groans, head lolling towards him like that empty eye socket is trying to get a better look. “Obito, I--”
“I’m sorry,” Rin says, “but the eye is starting to hemorrhage.” And then there is only sharp, sharp pain and he wants it to be over, he wants to be at home in bed with the covers tucked high around him or on the practice fields sitting in the tall grass that itches his ankles while the team takes a break to eat lunch or at that dango shop Rin likes so much where he can take the excuse of the booth being small to squeeze in to Rin’s side. He wants it to be over. He wants to be dead.
It’s dark now, a black more deep than the night or the Uchiha cloak or the back of his eyelids. He’s still alive. He can feel the rock crushing his chest and the hard stone beneath his head. He can hear Rin say “Hold still” but it’s so far away and he hopes she doesn’t mean him, he hopes he isn’t screwing this up because everything feels still and he can’t move anything no matter how hard he strains. It’s like all of his muscles have been disconnected. Only screaming pain remains, and he just wants to float away.
“Obito?” There’s warmth on his arm. A hand. Rin. “Obito, it was a success. You’ve saved Kakashi twice now.” A hand grabs his in a hard grip. Too bony and large to be Rin’s. Kakashi.
“Obito?” His voice is fierce where Rin’s wavered. “You’ll always be with me, in this eye. I’ll never forget you.”
“You’re our teammate,” Rin agrees, choking on the words.
Obito dies in pain but with the smallest of smiles.
*
Ikebana
Besides once arranging coded messages in a flower shop window in Lightning Country in order to communicate with a paranoid contact, Kakashi has never seen the purpose of flower arrangements, not for birthdays or first dates or gravestones.
He’s seen plenty of arrangements over the years, even knows a little of ikebana from when he was four years old and the Academy was desperate to find something to teach him, even the kunochi arts, before the war got so bad a five year old genin was still a genin and needed in the field. Still, this might be the most interested in flowers he’s been in his life.
“It really catches your eye, doesn’t it,” Ino says cheerfully, stepping out of the shop. There’s a glint in her eye that says she’s scented a sale, but Kakashi can’t pull himself away.
It’s bright. Gaudy. Happy. Cheesy. Undeniable.
It’s a half-sphere of canary yellow carnations with two sunflowers for wide black eyes and a length of black pipe cleaner all arranged into a smiling face.
“Your ikebana teacher would prune you,” Kakashi says, speaking from experience. Ino’s face freezes in a smiling grimace and it’s good to know that Miwaka-sensei is still teaching.
It gets him in a twenty percent discount, so perhaps those classes weren’t a waste after all.
*
Some days Naruto wonders if he’s ever going to catch up. He’s been training with Lee on straight taijutsu, and he still can’t beat the other boy without using his Kyuubi-enhanced endurance to wear him down first. It makes him wonder--quietly, never out loud--if Jiraiya-sensei was right and he can’t beat Sasuke without using the bijuu.
And that--that’s not how Naruto wants to fight Sasuke, with his mind clouded with anger, using a power that’s not his own, because how will he ever get through to Sasuke if that’s the case?
Questions for another day because Naruto aches all over and after a cup of instant ramen, he’s going to bed. He’ll do laundry in the morning when his calves aren’t threatening to tear away from the rest of his legs.
Except sleep will have to wait because someone has broken into his apartment and left the most awesome flower arrangement Naruto has ever seen sitting on his bed with a small note poking out of the side.
Smile, the note reads in familiar writing. Naruto does.