[drabble] Custom Made: SasuNaru
Custom Made
SasuNaru, kinda
Challenge: Civilians
Shopping for friends who hate you has never been more difficult. Possible spoilers, since it is post season 1. For naruto100's weekly challenge.
246 words
Rokou blinks, slowly-shinobi don’t often buy from him, they prefer tools custom-made. “Is it for you?”
“What?” the kid looks surprised, but he has one of those faces made for surprise, like a puppy. “Oh. No. Yes? Maybe. Why?”
“A weapon must fit its owner’s personality,” Rokou leans on his cane; monsoon season is coming to Rain early, and his joints ache from the humidity. “Or else they won’t work together. Who are you looking for?”
For a second, Rokou knows the blond’s going to leave; tension crouches in every inch of the teen’s skin.
Uncomfortable seconds pass-he can hear the kid thinking.
“Something…fast,” the kid’s eyes wander over the display cases-not seeing, but avoiding Rokou’s eyes, mood shifted messily.
“So fast you can’t even see it striking. Wicked sharp. And…” the kid’s fingers drum on the gigantic zanbatou obsessively, but he doesn’t pick it up again.
“Double-edged.”
Shinobi pay well--when they bother to pay at all--and this is a business. Everything’s for sale. Rokou shows the boy around.
“Sweet! ,” the kid handles the exquisite blade badly. “These sell well? Yeah? Awesome! It’s perfect!”
The kid pulls out two packets of bills-less than the katana’s worth, but too much for an opening bid. More than Rokou sees cash on a weekly basis. They’re all dirty, and bloodstained on the left corner.
“You’ve got the weapon. Now,” the kid grins wolfishly, easily. “Sell me the buyer, to match the personality.”
***
Defend me from my friends; I can defend myself from my enemies.
- Marchal Villars
***
A/N: Instead of writing a drabble, I write a short story. Guh. I must learn this thing called ‘control’ one of these days.
SasuNaru, kinda
Challenge: Civilians
Shopping for friends who hate you has never been more difficult. Possible spoilers, since it is post season 1. For naruto100's weekly challenge.
246 words
Rokou blinks, slowly-shinobi don’t often buy from him, they prefer tools custom-made. “Is it for you?”
“What?” the kid looks surprised, but he has one of those faces made for surprise, like a puppy. “Oh. No. Yes? Maybe. Why?”
“A weapon must fit its owner’s personality,” Rokou leans on his cane; monsoon season is coming to Rain early, and his joints ache from the humidity. “Or else they won’t work together. Who are you looking for?”
For a second, Rokou knows the blond’s going to leave; tension crouches in every inch of the teen’s skin.
Uncomfortable seconds pass-he can hear the kid thinking.
“Something…fast,” the kid’s eyes wander over the display cases-not seeing, but avoiding Rokou’s eyes, mood shifted messily.
“So fast you can’t even see it striking. Wicked sharp. And…” the kid’s fingers drum on the gigantic zanbatou obsessively, but he doesn’t pick it up again.
“Double-edged.”
Shinobi pay well--when they bother to pay at all--and this is a business. Everything’s for sale. Rokou shows the boy around.
“Sweet! ,” the kid handles the exquisite blade badly. “These sell well? Yeah? Awesome! It’s perfect!”
The kid pulls out two packets of bills-less than the katana’s worth, but too much for an opening bid. More than Rokou sees cash on a weekly basis. They’re all dirty, and bloodstained on the left corner.
“You’ve got the weapon. Now,” the kid grins wolfishly, easily. “Sell me the buyer, to match the personality.”
***
Defend me from my friends; I can defend myself from my enemies.
- Marchal Villars
***
A/N: Instead of writing a drabble, I write a short story. Guh. I must learn this thing called ‘control’ one of these days.