Drabble Post of Doom
These are all the drabbles I wrote for my drabble meme, plus one for Sintari I wrote a few weeks ago because she needed entertainment. LJ gets exclusive rights to them until the weekend because I'm too lazy to post them anywhere else for a while. Enjoy.
Word Count: 346
Not Exactly What He’d Expected
When Sasuke had told him that he had learned more than fighting techniques in Sound, then licked his lips, Naruto hadn't known whether to be disgusted by the images that produced (like Sasuke in a schoolgirl outfit while frenching Orochimaru) or kind of turned on (hey, schoolgirl outfit). It had been therefore with some uncertainty that he had asked Sasuke to show him what he had learned. Not for any particularly good reason- the sex was excellent already- but still, he was seventeen and curious and not particularly adverse to variety in the bedroom, so what could it hurt? Well, him maybe if Sasuke turned out to be into S & M, but the healing factor thing had to be helpful sometime outside of battle.
Naruto had been ready for anything. This wasn't anything.
"Uh... Sasuke?"
"What?"
"... what are you doing?"
Sasuke rolled his eyes. "What I'd told you I'd do. Showing you what I learned in Sound."
"You're sewing."
Sasuke snorted. "Thanks for stating the obvious, moron." With his eyes narrowed, he then made a very neat stitch in the... whatever the hell he was making.
Naruto couldn't help but feel he was missing some vital piece of information. "Why are you sewing?"
"Because there weren't any tailors in Sound and I had to learn to make my own clothes."
"So that's it?" Disappointed didn't even begin to describe how he felt. He'd been willing to do S & M, damn it, and this is what he got?
Sasuke scowled at him. "What, can you do this?"
"No, but-"
"Then shut up. I need to concentrate."
Grumbling, Naruto stalked out of the room. His focus now uninterrupted, Sasuke leaned over and made another stitch. He hadn't minded showing Naruto his hobby, but he was glad the blond had left, all the same. It was hard enough already to sew the ruffles into the schoolgirl skirt just right, and he'd need every ounce of his attention on this task if he was going to have it ready by the time Naruto got back home tonight.
Word Count: 536
Cross Species Mating Practices
Usually, Kidoumaru didn't go for the tall, solemn types, but the glasses were cool and besides that, anyone who stopped some jackass from messing up a spider's web had to be at least somewhat decent. It was with that thought in mind that the Sound-nin sidled up beside the stranger (who was sipping on some tea and staring at the counter top) and offered to buy him a real drink.
The stranger said no, but at least didn't protest when Kidoumaru sat beside him. A one-sided conversation went on for several minutes, the stranger grunting periodically to Kidoumaru's chatter, but the man didn't seem adverse to his company, and on impulse Kidoumaru decided to take a chance, just for the hell of it. The stranger was a bit quiet for his tastes, but shit, in a town like this he was practically a godsend. "Any particular reason you're sitting alone in this crappy bar drinking ginsing?"
The stranger turned to look at him. His brow was furrowed slightly, though the glasses made his eyes unreadable. "I have business in the market tomorrow morning. This is all there is to do." He had not yet commented on Kidoumaru's arms, had barely even glanced at them, though unlike everyone else this seemed to be because of indifference instead of fear. Another point in his favor. Associating with people who were scared of him could be entertaining but also grated on Kidoumaru's nerves real fast.
Kidoumaru grinned. "I don't know about that." His grin shifted into a leer. "I can think of a couple things."
The stranger looked down into his cup of tea, and then his posture shifted. He pushed the tea away. "Show me."
--*--
The stranger stared down at the table with a puzzled air. "When you told me we were heading towards your room at the inn, I admit I'd assumed we were going to do something of a different nature." He then moved his pawn forward one space. It was a wasted effort, they both knew. The game was almost over.
Kidoumaru blinked. "Like what?" He moved his rook to check the stranger's king.
The stranger frowned. "Like sex, I suppose. I am working apart from my usual co-workers, and I have always had some curiosity about the 'one-night stand.' I had thought this a good opportunity to assuage that." He moved his king away from the rook's line of fire. Straight into a corner.
Kidoumaru smirked. "Oh, don't worry, the night is young yet." He moved his rook again. "Check mate."
The stranger stared at him, no longer paying the least attention to the game. "If you did bring me back here with that intent, why are we playing chess?"
After sending one last contemplative glance towards the chessboard, with a move of his arm Kidoumaru swept the game pieces onto the floor and crawled over the table to grab the stranger's coat by its lapels and pulled him close. Said stranger's expression didn't shift in the least, reinforcing Kidoumaru's first impression of the man. The blush was interesting though. Most interesting.
Kidoumaru was grinning as he ran one finger down the stranger's cheek and whispered in his ear. "Foreplay. What else?"
Word Count: 605
A Forever Losing Battle
Tayuya had turned her back and started to walk away before Kin even registered the pain in her legs. She had just felt something wet and heavy dribbling down her thighs and looked to see two kunai, one for each limb, both deep in the meat about a foot above the knee. Tayuya had very precise aim. Better than hers.
It had been raining for some time, had started hours before their spar, and it was mud that rushed up to meet her as she collapsed to her knees. It wasn't only her legs that hurt- Tayuya had broken at least two of her ribs and blacked one eye before she got tired of the one-sided battle- but the fight had barely gone on for five minutes, far too short a time, so Kin gritted her teeth and pulled.
She managed, just barely, to get one out, but the other was stubborn, and she was tired, and it was raining, and she could just barely see Tayuya now through the seemingly never ending downpour, and she was still walking away, hadn't even acknowledged her victory, and-
"Get back here!" Kin struggled to her feet, only stumbling once. Her vision darkened, but her legs held. Barely. "Get back here! We're not finished yet!"
Tayuya stopped. Then she turned. Though her eyes were the brightest green Kin had ever seen, now they were dark and unreadable. "This fight was over before it started, bitch. You're weak, and not worth my time."
Kin shook. It was partly from the agony in her legs and ribs, and partly from the anger of being dismissed so easily and the humiliation of the same, and maybe just a little from fear, but still she shook. Her grip on the kunai, still dripping her own blood, didn't falter. "You're running back to Orochimaru-sama? Fine, I don't care. Go home, kid. I should've known you were too young to actually know what it means to finish what you started."
Tayuya's face contorted in an all-too familiar expression of complete fury. She pulled another kunai out of her belt, her only one left- the elite bodyguards of Orochimaru were not much for the common weapons- and shifted her feet. "You cunt, I should rip your fucking throat out for that."
"You're welcome to try." Kin didn't really care that what she had said was practically suicide. She was tired of being left behind in the mud, so pathetic that her opponents didn't even bother sticking around to gloat. She hadn't followed Orochimaru just to be discarded as easily as she had been by her family. If she was going to lose- and she was- it wasn't going to happen without Tayuya looking her at least once in the eye.
Tayuya frowned at her words, the scowl momentarily leaving her face. Kin couldn't be sure if it was because of the dizziness from the blood loss or just Tayuya's speed that caused the younger Sound-nin to blur in front of her. When Kin next heard Tayuya's voice, it was behind her. And the next thing she felt was the heat of Tayuya at her back and the sharp edge of a blade at her throat.
"You're an idiot." Tayuya stated the words factually, with none of her usual scorn. "You will never be able to win against me. You're too weak."
Kin didn't let herself flinch, though her shaking increased and her kunai dropped to the dirt. Blood continued to run down her legs, and the ground around her was stained a watery red. "If I'm so weak, why'd you come back?"
Tayuya didn't reply.
Word Count: 376
Broken Promise
Naruto wouldn't look at her. "I'm sorry, Sakura-chan. I'm so sorry. I couldn't," and it was here that his voice shook, though before it hadn't wavered. "I couldn't-"
He still wasn't looking at her, but that was alright. Sakura didn't particularly want to look at Naruto at that moment either. She didn't think she could. Her eyes were riveted elsewhere.
Even in death, Sasuke was beautiful, his face made up of delicate lines and carefully sculpted edges. He had always looked older than he was and that had remained true through his adolescence, his features far more mature than they should have been. A stranger gazing at the Uchiha's corpse would have seen the body of a young man easily into his twenties, would never have guessed that they were looking upon a boy just weeks past his sixteenth birthday. His face hadn't lost any of its intensity, even now, his brow still furrowed and his mouth still curled in a scowl.
Sasuke had found no peace in death. Sakura wasn't surprised. Being murdered by the boy he had once called his best friend- and it was murder, no matter the specifics of the battle- having his insides torn out bare-handed by a former comrade, was not a peaceful way to die.
Beside her, Naruto was still staring at the ground. "Sakura-chan..."
Sakura felt her hands clench. "You broke your promise to me, Naruto."
Naruto flinched. Sakura ignored it. "You told me that that you save Sasuke. You promised me. Is this your idea of what it means to save someone?"
"Orochimaru had already gotten to him, Sakura-chan. Sasuke..." and it was now that Naruto finally looked at her. His eyes were red, though the chakra of the Nine-Tails demon no longer ran through him. "Sasuke's been dead a long time.
"You're right. I failed you. All I could do for you was avenge his death. I'm sorry I couldn't do more. But there," his voice cracked, "there wasn't anything left."
Sakura closed her eyes. She didn't want to listen to Naruto anymore, but he continued talking regardless, his voice now rift was desperation. "Sakura-chan... I know you hate me, right now. But... I just hope that one day you can forgive me."
Sakura didn't reply.
Word Count: 760
One-Sided Dichotomy
Dosu was in the process of re-wrapping his face after taking a shower when the door to the room he shared with his team opened without warning. Dosu, feeling irritated- he'd told Zaku a thousand times to knock before coming in, but the idiot never listened- turned to snap out a sarcastic retort, but stopped cold when he saw who was standing in the threshold.
The elite bodyguards of Orochimaru-sama didn't often venture into the wing of Sound Village which housed the regular soldiers. They resided closer to the throne room, in order to be able to attend on their lord whenever they were needed. Dosu hadn't spoken to any of them personally before except the dark-skinned spider-nin who occasionally walked past the training grounds and offered unwanted critiques to his team. Dosu had barely even seen this one. Rumors persisted as to the role of the pale-haired, painted boy among his comrades. Some said he led the elite cell. The daring, noting his delicate features and slight build, snickered about sexual favors and what Orochimaru-sama did with his bodyguards behind closed doors.
Looking into Sakon's eyes now, Dosu knew that without a question that those rumors were a load of bullshit. Catamites didn't examine you as if trying to think of the best way to kill you without getting any blood on their clothes.
This room was Dosu's domain. The whole wing was far more his territory than the elite's, so even with Sakon's superior rank he should have had the advantage, but with his face exposed and the elite's beauty making him even more aware than usual of his scars, Dosu didn't feel anything but vulnerable. "What are you doing here?"
Sakon frowned and stepped inside, his gaze shifting from Dosu to look around the room, his eyes lingering on the ratty furniture, the dirty floor, the holes in the walls. Dosu restrained the urge to flinch, reminding himself with an effort that whatever the elite's rank now, he probably hadn't any nobler origins than Dosu, rumors of a bloodline limit or not. "This is where you live?"
Sakon's tone was empty of scorn, but Dosu still scowled, making his scars pull painfully. "Yes."
It was a little too late that Dosu registered the insolence in his voice, and as he watched the elite's delicately arched eyebrow raise, Dosu reminded himself that Sakon was well within his rights to kill him on impulse. The benefits of rank.
The weak had to succumb to the strong or die. This was the way of the world, and Dosu didn't want to die here, in his room, but it was with his team in mind that he bowed, his gaze towards the floor. "I apologize for my disrespect. Your presence surprised me, Sakon-sama."
Sakon didn't reply, but just walked over to stand in front of Dosu, close enough to touch. It was pure reflex that when the elite reached out to grasp his lowered head by the chin, Dosu grabbed his wrist. "Please. Don't."
Sakon frowned. Dosu held his breath, but instead of getting angry all the elite did was smirk. "You are interesting." He looked down at his wrist, and Dosu loosened his grip. Sakon turned away, and went back to the door.
Dosu felt the tension begin to leave his shoulders, but at the last moment the elite turned and looked at him again. "Your team is leaving for Konoha tonight to enter the Chuunin Exams. Start getting together your supplies."
Dosu blinked his one good eye. "Ah... thank you."
The elite nodded and moved to go. It was with the last vestiges of his courage that Dosu asked, "Orochimaru-sama sent you to tell me this?"
It was with his back turned that Sakon shook his head. "I came of my own volition." He looked over one shoulder, his smirk still gracing his flawless, beautiful features. It was almost enough to make Dosu feel resentment, that the elite was so perfect when he was so flawed, but he had lived a life too long and too hard to not know that a delicate face could be far more disastrous than one covered in scars. "Your genin cell is weak. But you might have some potential. Maybe."
Then he was gone. Dosu stood a long time in the poor lighting, his face uncovered. His scars burned from the unaccustomed exposure, but Dosu knew it was all in his head, a crutch. If he was ever going to become as strong as the elite, he couldn't allow himself that weakness forever.
Word Count: 517
Beyond His Grasp
It really would have been more appropriate if everything hurt, but it didn't. Greed wished it did. Pain would have been vastly preferably to this weakness.
Not that he liked pain all that much. Even back when he had had his healing factor, those few seconds before it took over had never been fun. But still, at least pain was something. Weakness was an absence. Where his strength, his well of power had once been was nothing. And Greed hated nothing more than anything, because it wasn't anything at all.
He couldn't leave. They had tied him up and left him in this pit, and even though the bonds were only leather, he couldn't break them. Not now. And it was all that bitch's fault.
It was Envy who had led him here, but Envy was only a puppet. He hadn't been the one to come up with the idea to trick him, the rogue sin who'd gotten sick of following orders, and truss him up to rot for all eternity. The idea had been all Dante's. The ideas were always Dante's.
They had been lovers once. Maybe. At least, that was what Dante had told him when he had first woken up over eighty years ago. But Greed didn't remember. Lovers once or not- and he had always doubted it, as Dante had never looked on him with anything resembling affection- he hadn't been anything more than a toy to her in the fifty years she had commanded him. Or maybe a guard dog, that after going feral, had to be put down before it bit the hand of its owner.
Greed wanted to kill her. Before he had been content with simply being away from her, living his own life, but now he wanted to kill her. Nothing too fancy. Keeping her around long enough to gloat was a recipe for getting screwed, but wrapping a clawed hand around her throat- his armored form had been ugly as, well, sin, but god damn did he miss his claws sometimes- and breaking her neck, well... that would be satisfying.
If- no. Not if, when, when he got out of here, he was going to track her down. It might take another decade to escape, maybe a century, but the bitch was almost immortal and Greed had no doubt she'd still be around and causing trouble for the rest of the world in her pursuit of the Philosopher's Stone. She'd be relatively easy to find. And once he found her...
The seal made Greed's entire form burn with weakness and had for the past ten years. Greed had forgotten what the sky looked like, what food tasted like. On occasion he wondered that if he were human instead of just an imitation, whether he'd be insane by now instead of just tired.
Still, even with the weakness, the thought of his revenge was enough to make him smile. With luck, it might even be enough to get him through this without giving up. It had to be. Greed had nothing else, and that burned most of all.
Word Count: 675
Another Kind of Strength
The burning in her chest was spreading. Sakura had spent long hours studying the workings of the human body, and she knew what the burning meant.
If she had all her chakra reserve, if by some miracle what she was feeling wasn't the failing of her heart from a hand going through her chest, then she might have been able to heal the damage. She wasn't the Godaime Hokage's protege for nothing. But she didn't have any chakra left, having spent an hour regenerating Naruto's leg, only to have him go back out and die skewered on Sasuke's sword, his blood leaking out of him as Sakura watched from a distance, his blue eyes fading (why hadn't he used the Kyuubi? Why? He could've won, could've killed-), his life leaking out of him-
But the hand hadn't missed her heart. Kabuto, for all his brutal uses of his talent, was a medic-nin as well. And he didn't miss.
Sakura coughed and felt the blood dribble down her chin. Sign of internal damage, the analytical part of her brain noted. Had to be treated within the hour or doomed to be lethal.
She would have laughed, except she knew that all that would come up was more blood.
"Why?" The word came out in a whisper. Sakura's chest- what remained of it- felt too tight to draw breath.
Kabuto looked at her. His hair fell loose around his shoulders and he had lost his glasses at the beginning of their fight, but despite that his eyes remained focused. The glasses had most likely been a hoax. Something to fool the opponent. Sakura had to admit to their ingenuity. She had been surprised when the Sound-nin had failed to hesitate when his glasses fell to the ground, cracked neatly in half at the nose piece. That surprise was the reason that there was a cut on her forehead that continually leaked blood into her left eye.
His hand was still in her chest as he responded calmly, "Why what, Sakura?"
His reply, so empty of anything, be it cruelty or satisfaction or, hell forbid it, compassion, made the words pour out of her, her voice growing weaker and weaker with each word she spoke to the man with even less humanity than his immortal master. "Why would you betray Konoha and join Orochimaru? Why would you help him destroy the village that used to be your home? Who do you think you are, to do this to us?"
His gaze was steady as he met her eyes. "Konoha was never my home. As for who I am.. ?" He smiled. "I am the man who is helping to bring about the downfall of the most powerful shinobi village in the world. Anything else about me you have no right to know, Sakura. Even if you are about to die."
Sakura closed her eyes. She couldn't feel anything anymore. "That's good. I wouldn't... want to..."
Kabuto frowned. "What?"
It was then that he looked down and noticed the kunai shoved below his ribs. His eyes widened. The cough that followed was flecked red. "You shouldn't... have the strength to do that after your heart is gone."
Sakura smiled, and pulled out the kunai. Blood splayed, and the Sound-nin fell to his knees, his eyes already gone dull. "I don't have the strength... to do a lot of things, Kabuto-san. But getting just this little revenge for what you did to me, and my comrades... that I can do."
Sakura's smile didn't waver as she collapsed on top of the man who had killed her. Her heart was gone, yes. But Naruto was dead, Kakashi was dead, and Sasuke wasn't the boy she had loved anymore, and maybe never had been. Her heart had died with them, and it was from pain, long festered within her from the long ago betrayal of her innocence and the years of despair that followed, that she had drawn her strength. Love was stronger than hate. But hate was all she had left.
Word Count: 406
The Meaning of Genius
Kidoumaru read a lot of books. Most of them were from Orochimaru-sama's personal library, history books on the various wars, strategy texts written by the greatest generals of their era, that sort of thing. Orochimaru-sama approved, of course; Kidoumaru was the only one of the Sound Five who had shown the least interest in the large scale side of battle, in how to wage a full-fledged war against entire villages instead of small skirmishes with only a few opponents.
Even more importantly, Kidoumaru knew how to apply the knowledge he acquired. Not really much opportunity to do so in a cell of only five people (or six, though not officially), but he played strategy games frequently, chess or shouji or go. And he always won. This pleased Orochimaru-sama even more, so much that one evening when Kidoumaru was twelve, after beating Kabuto at chess for the first time, he had overheard his master telling the medic-nin that he planned for Kidoumaru to be moved from the bodyguard unit to the command tower after he reached his majority. The word 'genius' had come up more than once.
Kidoumaru had been pleased, at first, though the thought of leaving his team made him twinge a little. Still... Orochimaru-sama used the word 'genius' when referring to Kimimaro as well.
Kidoumaru hadn't used to focus purely on practical readings. Sometimes he had sneaked down to the civilian village closest to Sound Village and bought novels. Mysteries, adventure... it hadn't matter. Sometimes it felt better to read something mindless, something that didn't require him to think. It was after a few months of reading the insipid, unrealistic civilian books about love, battle, and everything else a civilian couldn't possibly understand like a shinobi could that Kidoumaru had realized something. Civilian authors only used the word 'genius' when referring to the intellect. For fighters... 'talent' at best. Never genius. And it was always implied that 'genius' would win over 'talent.'
It was then that Kidoumaru threw all his novels away. Before, he had found the pure fancy, the unrealistic plots and always happy endings to be a comfort, an escape from real life. But the idea that a genius would always win over 'talent'... that was intolerable.
No matter how much smarter Kidoumaru was than his comrades, it didn't matter when it came to fighting talent. For a shinobi, talent was always better than genius. He had scars enough to know that.
Note: This drabble takes place in theninjakitty's Reverberations universe, where Tayuya and Jiroubou (and maybe the rest of the Sound Four) don't die and drag Chouji with them to Sound, make him think Shikamaru is dead, and he turns out if not evil, then a lot more cynical than he used to be.
Word Count: 755
Not What He Once Was
Chouji was rubbing some lotion into his hands, for the skin always cracked these days with the jutsus he used, when Tayuya walked into the common room carrying several bottles. It was without further ado that she dropped them on the low table in front of the couch and turned around to rummage around in the dish cabinets. Chouji was instantly wary and put down the lotion, one hand reaching for a kunai strapped to his thigh. This situation was unfamiliar, and Chouji had learned that unfamiliar was rarely a good thing here. "Tayuya, what are you doing?"
Tayuya didn't bother to stop pulling out glasses as she curtly replied, "Shut up." Chouji did, but his fingers remained wrapped around the kunai's hilt.
It was then that Jiroubou walked in, though he stopped dead with a puzzled look as he caught sight of Tayuya. Reflexively Chouji felt himself relax. If Jiroubou didn't know what was going on as well, than maybe it would be alright.
"Tayuya, what are you-"
Tayuya walked back over to the table and dropped the glasses- shot glasses, Chouji noted with some curiosity and not a little bit of paranoia- next to the bottles. One of the glasses broke in half. Tayuya didn't pay it any attention, just seated herself down at the couch and started pouring the contents of the bottles into the shot glasses.
Jiroubou and Chouji watched this silently, though Jiroubou sent Chouji an inquiring look, to which Chouji could only respond with a helpless shrug.
It was after a good eight shot glasses were full of liquids that ranged the whole color spectrum that Tayuya leaned back against the couch cushions and regarded the two male nin. They stared back at her, uncomprehending, which soon elicited a scowl from their female comrade. "What the fuck are you two fat asses waiting for? Sit down and pick up a drink."
Jiroubou did so immediately, seating himself on Tayuya's left, though the look he sent the glasses was dubious at best. Chouji remained standing. "What is this stuff, Tayuya?"
Tayuya snorted derisively. "Alcohol, you idiot. What else would it be? I managed to get five different kinds, so choose your poison. The freak and the rainbow twins won't be back from their mission for several days and we don't have any work to do, so this is the perfect time to get shitfaced without Orochimaru-sama tearing any of us a new one."
Jiroubou was the first to pick up a glass, one full of a clear liquid. He took a sip cautiously and made a face. "Vodka. Can't we cut this stuff with something, Tayuya? This tastes like shit."
Tayuya rolled her eyes. "We're trying to get drunk, you fat bastard. What would be the point of cutting it?"
Chouji didn't move from his position behind the couch. Drinking. He was barely fourteen, and Tayuya and Jiroubou were a bare year older, and yet here they were, with five bottles of hard drinks that had apparently been no trouble at all to acquire and every intention to consume them. He half expected his father to walk in, his face growing disappointed as he gazed upon the spectacle, his head shaking as he said, "Chouji, I really expected better of you."
But this wasn't Leaf, him trying out beer with the rest of the genin on Team 10, hiding in Ino's room feeling a little guilty and a little grown up at the same time. And this wasn't Team 10, with Ino egging him on and Shikamaru muttering about how stupid this was. And he wasn't a child anymore, to think sipping beer would help make him an adult. His childhood had died a year ago, along with his best friend.
He was a missing-nin now, a criminal, not a loser genin who no one expected to get anywhere. He had killed people, some of whom hadn't deserved it. He had nightmares of things he had done, atrocities, that he hadn't even known were possible a year ago. If the alcohol could make that go away, for just a little while...
Tayuya was glaring at him now, noting his reluctance. "Hey, butterfly bitch. You wimping out on us?"
Chouji shook his head. Then he stuck out his hand. "Give me a shot of the strongest stuff you have."
The glass she handed to him was accompanied by an amused smirk, but as the burning liquid slid down his throat and settled in his stomach, Chouji couldn't bring himself to care.
Word Count: 284
Familiar Stranger
Even when they had been comrades, Naruto and Sasuke had never really gotten along. There had been rare moments when they understood each other completely, had fought with a comfortable synchronization without a word being said, but those times were far and few between. As Naruto stared at Sasuke now, his old friend's skin disfigured by the seal of the monster Sasuke had accepted as his teacher and the Uchiha's eyes glowing red and malevolent, he couldn't read him at all.
Sasuke's stance before had always shifted, just a little, before he struck. Now he moved without warning, Naruto barely getting a kunai up in time to block. Sasuke had used to frown when his attacks were deflected. Now his expression didn't change, remaining focused and intense in a way that Naruto couldn't help but be unnerved by.
It was only while fighting him, really, truly fighting him, with no holding back, that Naruto realized how much Sasuke had changed in the three years since their parting, even if his appearance had not. Sasuke had grown up and away from Naruto, had turned into a person that Naruto didn't know or really want to know. When he gazed into Sasuke's eyes now, he was looking at a stranger, except worse. Naruto had learned how to kill the unknown shinobi he faced without hesitation, even without prior awareness of how they fought. This enemy- Sasuke- was someone he couldn't defeat. Not without losing in an entirely different but infinitely more important way.
But as Naruto felt Orochimaru's Kusanagi- Sasuke's weapon, now- bite into his shoulder, as he met the Uchiha's eyes and saw nothing there, Naruto knew that his opponent did not feel the same.
Word Count: 638
Monstrous Talent
Around Konohagakure, the word Jiraiya heard most to describe Orochimaru was 'genius,' often when their team was passing by while going to report to the mission desk or on their way to eat. No one even bothered to be circumspect about it, retired shinobi speaking in the loud voices of the partially deaf about how nice it was to see that the new generation wasn't a complete waste of time. Or mothers stage-whispering about the potential of Sarutobi's protege as a provider, both for the village and his eventual family (that one always made Jiraiya want to laugh almost as much as it made him want to cry). Or active shinobi (and they were the worst), the veterans, usually, talking about how that though the Sandaime was young yet, he'd need a successor one day, and it was always good to plan for the future, especially with the war with Cloud and Mist that had no end in sight.
Orochimaru always pretended he didn't hear, his gaze not moving from the road, though Tsunade would giggle at some of the comments, though she snickered the loudest about the ones regarding marriage. They were only sixteen, after all, and somehow it was hard to imagine Orochimaru even dating, much less getting married. Jiraiya spent the time resisting the urge to glare and grinding his teeth. Ten years of being overlooked in favor of Orochimaru, who was boring and kind of creepy and spent most of his time reading academic journals, really grated on his nerves.
But the 'genius' comments weren't the worst. Those were only irritating, and Jiraiya had learned to live with them. It was those few times after missions, the bad ones, the assignments when they came back covered in blood and guts and various other bodily fluids, Jiraiya puking in the bushes and Tsunade washing her hands until they were rubbed raw and Orochimaru's eyes unreadable, that the comments on the street took a different turn. 'Not human' came up more than once, 'monster' as well. But 'demon...' that was their favorite.
Like with the whispers of 'genius' and 'most talented shinobi of his generation,' Orochimaru pretended not to hear, but Jiraiya saw the way his hands shook and his eyes darkened. Tsunade tried to rationalize it, saying people were scared by Orochimaru's lack of reaction, by how he could kill twenty shinobi in a night and not act any different than if he had spent the evening in the library. By how he fought as no one else could, defeated those thought near invincible and come back soaked in their remains. People feared what they didn't understand and what was beyond their control.
It didn't keep Jiraiya from wanting to hunt the whisperers down and beating them within an inch of their lives. He had even does so once, tracked down a particularly gossipy chuunin and breaking both his arms before issuing one or two choice death threats, but he hadn't felt better afterwards and the rumors hadn't stopped, so that was the last time he bothered.
He wondered how people could think that, that Orochimaru was a demon, something not human at all. What kind of demon could get a head cold from washing his hair in a glacier-melted stream and spend the rest of the day sneezing? What kind of demon would sulk for three days because a book he wanted had been bought by someone else? What demon would care what people said about him on the street?
Jiraiya knew with absolute certainty that Orochimaru was nothing close to a demon. Orochimaru was a genius, yes- even Jiraiya would admit that if pushed- but he was also nerd, and a teacher's pet, and... well... what were the chances of a demon being such a total wuss when it came to girls, anyway?
Note: Yes, gelfling gets two. Don't ask why.
Word Count: 512
Never Good Enough
Kadaj's hands twitched whenever he wasn't holding something. He disguised this habit by gesturing wildly while he talked, but Yazoo wasn't anything close to fooled. He did wonder why the hand gestures were being so much more dramatic than usual, though.
"These bikes aren't near good enough!"
At that, Loz, who was the best at mechanics and was currently fine-tuning the steering on his own bike, glanced at Yazoo for a translation. Yazoo shrugged. He didn't really know what Kadaj was talking about either.
As was the habit, Loz, who didn't care as much about looking foolish as Yazoo did, was the one to ask the obvious question. "What's wrong with them?"
At that, Kadaj glared, making Loz flinch. As was the habit, Yazoo, who was as smart as Kadaj if not more so and could argue more convincingly than Loz, placed a placating hand on their younger brother's shoulder. "The bikes work fine, Kadaj."
Kadaj snorted, and with a characteristic flash of distemper kicked his bike, scratching the paint. Out of the corner of his eye, Yazoo witnessed Loz reach out as if to stop their younger brother, but Yazoo shook his head, silently telling Loz to back down. A scratched bike wasn't anything to worry about. Better that Kadaj took his anger out on a bike rather than one of them.
Kadaj was frowning down at the scratch on his bike- as if the mark had appeared of its own volition just to spite him- when he replied frostily, "They aren't fast enough. Nii-san's bike has to be twice as good."
Somehow, Yazoo doubted this. They had taken the bikes a month ago from a small band of robbers who had attacked them- their corpses now rotted somewhere a few hundred miles from Midgar- and Loz had rebuilt their engines twice. The bikes hadn't been bad to begin with, either.
On top of that, they had never seen their rogue elder brother's bike, so who knew if it was any good or not, but Yazoo knew better than to argue with Kadaj when he was in a mood.
It was in his most soothing voice that Yazoo said, "We'll go into town tomorrow and buy new parts, Kadaj."
It was on reflex that Yazoo held his breath as Kadaj considered this, and only released the air out of his lungs after their younger brother nodded decisively. "Very well. We'll leave first thing tomorrow morning."
He then stalked into the cabin they had appropriated for the night (abandoned, but they would have used it either way) and shut the door. For a moment, Yazoo stared after him, and it was with an effort that he wrenched his eyes away to meet Loz's puzzled gaze. "We shouldn't go in for a while, until he calms down."
Loz nodded in agreement, relief starkly spreading across his features. Yazoo felt the same, though he could mask his emotions much better than Loz. He hoped the Reunion would happen soon. Maybe then Kadaj would finally find the peace that had eluded him for so long.
Word Count: 298
I Will Always Protect You
When Ishida fought, he fought alone, for he could never release his true power when the one he was fighting for might be in the line of fire. He fought alone, for he couldn't bear to see the look of helplessness on Orihime's face that so often graced her features whenever she witnessed Ichigo in battle, the expression that said she would never be anything but something to protect to him. He fought alone, because he wouldn't allow himself to rely on anyone else for help, knowing they wouldn't succeed and be devastated by their failure. He fought alone, because when he fought, it wasn't for himself.
When Tatsuki fought, it was with Orihime watching, for she knew that as long as Orihime trusted her, she wouldn't let herself fall. She fought with Orihime watching because it was only for Orihime that she hurt someone outside her martial arts practice, for Orihime was the only one worth protecting. She fought with Orihime watching because she needed Orihime to know she was strong and would always look out for her. She fought with Orihime watching, because when she fought, it wasn't for herself.
When Orihime fought, it was where no one could see, because she didn't want her friends to know of her strength. She fought where no one could see, because she knew her friends needed someone to protect in order to feel strong. She fought where no one could see, because most of her battles went on inside her heart, and those were battles she needed to win alone. She fought where no one else could see, because when she fought, it was for herself. It was when she lost that it was for someone else, and it was in that way that she protected her friends.
Word Count: 346
Not Exactly What He’d Expected
When Sasuke had told him that he had learned more than fighting techniques in Sound, then licked his lips, Naruto hadn't known whether to be disgusted by the images that produced (like Sasuke in a schoolgirl outfit while frenching Orochimaru) or kind of turned on (hey, schoolgirl outfit). It had been therefore with some uncertainty that he had asked Sasuke to show him what he had learned. Not for any particularly good reason- the sex was excellent already- but still, he was seventeen and curious and not particularly adverse to variety in the bedroom, so what could it hurt? Well, him maybe if Sasuke turned out to be into S & M, but the healing factor thing had to be helpful sometime outside of battle.
Naruto had been ready for anything. This wasn't anything.
"Uh... Sasuke?"
"What?"
"... what are you doing?"
Sasuke rolled his eyes. "What I'd told you I'd do. Showing you what I learned in Sound."
"You're sewing."
Sasuke snorted. "Thanks for stating the obvious, moron." With his eyes narrowed, he then made a very neat stitch in the... whatever the hell he was making.
Naruto couldn't help but feel he was missing some vital piece of information. "Why are you sewing?"
"Because there weren't any tailors in Sound and I had to learn to make my own clothes."
"So that's it?" Disappointed didn't even begin to describe how he felt. He'd been willing to do S & M, damn it, and this is what he got?
Sasuke scowled at him. "What, can you do this?"
"No, but-"
"Then shut up. I need to concentrate."
Grumbling, Naruto stalked out of the room. His focus now uninterrupted, Sasuke leaned over and made another stitch. He hadn't minded showing Naruto his hobby, but he was glad the blond had left, all the same. It was hard enough already to sew the ruffles into the schoolgirl skirt just right, and he'd need every ounce of his attention on this task if he was going to have it ready by the time Naruto got back home tonight.
Word Count: 536
Cross Species Mating Practices
Usually, Kidoumaru didn't go for the tall, solemn types, but the glasses were cool and besides that, anyone who stopped some jackass from messing up a spider's web had to be at least somewhat decent. It was with that thought in mind that the Sound-nin sidled up beside the stranger (who was sipping on some tea and staring at the counter top) and offered to buy him a real drink.
The stranger said no, but at least didn't protest when Kidoumaru sat beside him. A one-sided conversation went on for several minutes, the stranger grunting periodically to Kidoumaru's chatter, but the man didn't seem adverse to his company, and on impulse Kidoumaru decided to take a chance, just for the hell of it. The stranger was a bit quiet for his tastes, but shit, in a town like this he was practically a godsend. "Any particular reason you're sitting alone in this crappy bar drinking ginsing?"
The stranger turned to look at him. His brow was furrowed slightly, though the glasses made his eyes unreadable. "I have business in the market tomorrow morning. This is all there is to do." He had not yet commented on Kidoumaru's arms, had barely even glanced at them, though unlike everyone else this seemed to be because of indifference instead of fear. Another point in his favor. Associating with people who were scared of him could be entertaining but also grated on Kidoumaru's nerves real fast.
Kidoumaru grinned. "I don't know about that." His grin shifted into a leer. "I can think of a couple things."
The stranger looked down into his cup of tea, and then his posture shifted. He pushed the tea away. "Show me."
--*--
The stranger stared down at the table with a puzzled air. "When you told me we were heading towards your room at the inn, I admit I'd assumed we were going to do something of a different nature." He then moved his pawn forward one space. It was a wasted effort, they both knew. The game was almost over.
Kidoumaru blinked. "Like what?" He moved his rook to check the stranger's king.
The stranger frowned. "Like sex, I suppose. I am working apart from my usual co-workers, and I have always had some curiosity about the 'one-night stand.' I had thought this a good opportunity to assuage that." He moved his king away from the rook's line of fire. Straight into a corner.
Kidoumaru smirked. "Oh, don't worry, the night is young yet." He moved his rook again. "Check mate."
The stranger stared at him, no longer paying the least attention to the game. "If you did bring me back here with that intent, why are we playing chess?"
After sending one last contemplative glance towards the chessboard, with a move of his arm Kidoumaru swept the game pieces onto the floor and crawled over the table to grab the stranger's coat by its lapels and pulled him close. Said stranger's expression didn't shift in the least, reinforcing Kidoumaru's first impression of the man. The blush was interesting though. Most interesting.
Kidoumaru was grinning as he ran one finger down the stranger's cheek and whispered in his ear. "Foreplay. What else?"
Word Count: 605
A Forever Losing Battle
Tayuya had turned her back and started to walk away before Kin even registered the pain in her legs. She had just felt something wet and heavy dribbling down her thighs and looked to see two kunai, one for each limb, both deep in the meat about a foot above the knee. Tayuya had very precise aim. Better than hers.
It had been raining for some time, had started hours before their spar, and it was mud that rushed up to meet her as she collapsed to her knees. It wasn't only her legs that hurt- Tayuya had broken at least two of her ribs and blacked one eye before she got tired of the one-sided battle- but the fight had barely gone on for five minutes, far too short a time, so Kin gritted her teeth and pulled.
She managed, just barely, to get one out, but the other was stubborn, and she was tired, and it was raining, and she could just barely see Tayuya now through the seemingly never ending downpour, and she was still walking away, hadn't even acknowledged her victory, and-
"Get back here!" Kin struggled to her feet, only stumbling once. Her vision darkened, but her legs held. Barely. "Get back here! We're not finished yet!"
Tayuya stopped. Then she turned. Though her eyes were the brightest green Kin had ever seen, now they were dark and unreadable. "This fight was over before it started, bitch. You're weak, and not worth my time."
Kin shook. It was partly from the agony in her legs and ribs, and partly from the anger of being dismissed so easily and the humiliation of the same, and maybe just a little from fear, but still she shook. Her grip on the kunai, still dripping her own blood, didn't falter. "You're running back to Orochimaru-sama? Fine, I don't care. Go home, kid. I should've known you were too young to actually know what it means to finish what you started."
Tayuya's face contorted in an all-too familiar expression of complete fury. She pulled another kunai out of her belt, her only one left- the elite bodyguards of Orochimaru were not much for the common weapons- and shifted her feet. "You cunt, I should rip your fucking throat out for that."
"You're welcome to try." Kin didn't really care that what she had said was practically suicide. She was tired of being left behind in the mud, so pathetic that her opponents didn't even bother sticking around to gloat. She hadn't followed Orochimaru just to be discarded as easily as she had been by her family. If she was going to lose- and she was- it wasn't going to happen without Tayuya looking her at least once in the eye.
Tayuya frowned at her words, the scowl momentarily leaving her face. Kin couldn't be sure if it was because of the dizziness from the blood loss or just Tayuya's speed that caused the younger Sound-nin to blur in front of her. When Kin next heard Tayuya's voice, it was behind her. And the next thing she felt was the heat of Tayuya at her back and the sharp edge of a blade at her throat.
"You're an idiot." Tayuya stated the words factually, with none of her usual scorn. "You will never be able to win against me. You're too weak."
Kin didn't let herself flinch, though her shaking increased and her kunai dropped to the dirt. Blood continued to run down her legs, and the ground around her was stained a watery red. "If I'm so weak, why'd you come back?"
Tayuya didn't reply.
Word Count: 376
Broken Promise
Naruto wouldn't look at her. "I'm sorry, Sakura-chan. I'm so sorry. I couldn't," and it was here that his voice shook, though before it hadn't wavered. "I couldn't-"
He still wasn't looking at her, but that was alright. Sakura didn't particularly want to look at Naruto at that moment either. She didn't think she could. Her eyes were riveted elsewhere.
Even in death, Sasuke was beautiful, his face made up of delicate lines and carefully sculpted edges. He had always looked older than he was and that had remained true through his adolescence, his features far more mature than they should have been. A stranger gazing at the Uchiha's corpse would have seen the body of a young man easily into his twenties, would never have guessed that they were looking upon a boy just weeks past his sixteenth birthday. His face hadn't lost any of its intensity, even now, his brow still furrowed and his mouth still curled in a scowl.
Sasuke had found no peace in death. Sakura wasn't surprised. Being murdered by the boy he had once called his best friend- and it was murder, no matter the specifics of the battle- having his insides torn out bare-handed by a former comrade, was not a peaceful way to die.
Beside her, Naruto was still staring at the ground. "Sakura-chan..."
Sakura felt her hands clench. "You broke your promise to me, Naruto."
Naruto flinched. Sakura ignored it. "You told me that that you save Sasuke. You promised me. Is this your idea of what it means to save someone?"
"Orochimaru had already gotten to him, Sakura-chan. Sasuke..." and it was now that Naruto finally looked at her. His eyes were red, though the chakra of the Nine-Tails demon no longer ran through him. "Sasuke's been dead a long time.
"You're right. I failed you. All I could do for you was avenge his death. I'm sorry I couldn't do more. But there," his voice cracked, "there wasn't anything left."
Sakura closed her eyes. She didn't want to listen to Naruto anymore, but he continued talking regardless, his voice now rift was desperation. "Sakura-chan... I know you hate me, right now. But... I just hope that one day you can forgive me."
Sakura didn't reply.
Word Count: 760
One-Sided Dichotomy
Dosu was in the process of re-wrapping his face after taking a shower when the door to the room he shared with his team opened without warning. Dosu, feeling irritated- he'd told Zaku a thousand times to knock before coming in, but the idiot never listened- turned to snap out a sarcastic retort, but stopped cold when he saw who was standing in the threshold.
The elite bodyguards of Orochimaru-sama didn't often venture into the wing of Sound Village which housed the regular soldiers. They resided closer to the throne room, in order to be able to attend on their lord whenever they were needed. Dosu hadn't spoken to any of them personally before except the dark-skinned spider-nin who occasionally walked past the training grounds and offered unwanted critiques to his team. Dosu had barely even seen this one. Rumors persisted as to the role of the pale-haired, painted boy among his comrades. Some said he led the elite cell. The daring, noting his delicate features and slight build, snickered about sexual favors and what Orochimaru-sama did with his bodyguards behind closed doors.
Looking into Sakon's eyes now, Dosu knew that without a question that those rumors were a load of bullshit. Catamites didn't examine you as if trying to think of the best way to kill you without getting any blood on their clothes.
This room was Dosu's domain. The whole wing was far more his territory than the elite's, so even with Sakon's superior rank he should have had the advantage, but with his face exposed and the elite's beauty making him even more aware than usual of his scars, Dosu didn't feel anything but vulnerable. "What are you doing here?"
Sakon frowned and stepped inside, his gaze shifting from Dosu to look around the room, his eyes lingering on the ratty furniture, the dirty floor, the holes in the walls. Dosu restrained the urge to flinch, reminding himself with an effort that whatever the elite's rank now, he probably hadn't any nobler origins than Dosu, rumors of a bloodline limit or not. "This is where you live?"
Sakon's tone was empty of scorn, but Dosu still scowled, making his scars pull painfully. "Yes."
It was a little too late that Dosu registered the insolence in his voice, and as he watched the elite's delicately arched eyebrow raise, Dosu reminded himself that Sakon was well within his rights to kill him on impulse. The benefits of rank.
The weak had to succumb to the strong or die. This was the way of the world, and Dosu didn't want to die here, in his room, but it was with his team in mind that he bowed, his gaze towards the floor. "I apologize for my disrespect. Your presence surprised me, Sakon-sama."
Sakon didn't reply, but just walked over to stand in front of Dosu, close enough to touch. It was pure reflex that when the elite reached out to grasp his lowered head by the chin, Dosu grabbed his wrist. "Please. Don't."
Sakon frowned. Dosu held his breath, but instead of getting angry all the elite did was smirk. "You are interesting." He looked down at his wrist, and Dosu loosened his grip. Sakon turned away, and went back to the door.
Dosu felt the tension begin to leave his shoulders, but at the last moment the elite turned and looked at him again. "Your team is leaving for Konoha tonight to enter the Chuunin Exams. Start getting together your supplies."
Dosu blinked his one good eye. "Ah... thank you."
The elite nodded and moved to go. It was with the last vestiges of his courage that Dosu asked, "Orochimaru-sama sent you to tell me this?"
It was with his back turned that Sakon shook his head. "I came of my own volition." He looked over one shoulder, his smirk still gracing his flawless, beautiful features. It was almost enough to make Dosu feel resentment, that the elite was so perfect when he was so flawed, but he had lived a life too long and too hard to not know that a delicate face could be far more disastrous than one covered in scars. "Your genin cell is weak. But you might have some potential. Maybe."
Then he was gone. Dosu stood a long time in the poor lighting, his face uncovered. His scars burned from the unaccustomed exposure, but Dosu knew it was all in his head, a crutch. If he was ever going to become as strong as the elite, he couldn't allow himself that weakness forever.
Word Count: 517
Beyond His Grasp
It really would have been more appropriate if everything hurt, but it didn't. Greed wished it did. Pain would have been vastly preferably to this weakness.
Not that he liked pain all that much. Even back when he had had his healing factor, those few seconds before it took over had never been fun. But still, at least pain was something. Weakness was an absence. Where his strength, his well of power had once been was nothing. And Greed hated nothing more than anything, because it wasn't anything at all.
He couldn't leave. They had tied him up and left him in this pit, and even though the bonds were only leather, he couldn't break them. Not now. And it was all that bitch's fault.
It was Envy who had led him here, but Envy was only a puppet. He hadn't been the one to come up with the idea to trick him, the rogue sin who'd gotten sick of following orders, and truss him up to rot for all eternity. The idea had been all Dante's. The ideas were always Dante's.
They had been lovers once. Maybe. At least, that was what Dante had told him when he had first woken up over eighty years ago. But Greed didn't remember. Lovers once or not- and he had always doubted it, as Dante had never looked on him with anything resembling affection- he hadn't been anything more than a toy to her in the fifty years she had commanded him. Or maybe a guard dog, that after going feral, had to be put down before it bit the hand of its owner.
Greed wanted to kill her. Before he had been content with simply being away from her, living his own life, but now he wanted to kill her. Nothing too fancy. Keeping her around long enough to gloat was a recipe for getting screwed, but wrapping a clawed hand around her throat- his armored form had been ugly as, well, sin, but god damn did he miss his claws sometimes- and breaking her neck, well... that would be satisfying.
If- no. Not if, when, when he got out of here, he was going to track her down. It might take another decade to escape, maybe a century, but the bitch was almost immortal and Greed had no doubt she'd still be around and causing trouble for the rest of the world in her pursuit of the Philosopher's Stone. She'd be relatively easy to find. And once he found her...
The seal made Greed's entire form burn with weakness and had for the past ten years. Greed had forgotten what the sky looked like, what food tasted like. On occasion he wondered that if he were human instead of just an imitation, whether he'd be insane by now instead of just tired.
Still, even with the weakness, the thought of his revenge was enough to make him smile. With luck, it might even be enough to get him through this without giving up. It had to be. Greed had nothing else, and that burned most of all.
Word Count: 675
Another Kind of Strength
The burning in her chest was spreading. Sakura had spent long hours studying the workings of the human body, and she knew what the burning meant.
If she had all her chakra reserve, if by some miracle what she was feeling wasn't the failing of her heart from a hand going through her chest, then she might have been able to heal the damage. She wasn't the Godaime Hokage's protege for nothing. But she didn't have any chakra left, having spent an hour regenerating Naruto's leg, only to have him go back out and die skewered on Sasuke's sword, his blood leaking out of him as Sakura watched from a distance, his blue eyes fading (why hadn't he used the Kyuubi? Why? He could've won, could've killed-), his life leaking out of him-
But the hand hadn't missed her heart. Kabuto, for all his brutal uses of his talent, was a medic-nin as well. And he didn't miss.
Sakura coughed and felt the blood dribble down her chin. Sign of internal damage, the analytical part of her brain noted. Had to be treated within the hour or doomed to be lethal.
She would have laughed, except she knew that all that would come up was more blood.
"Why?" The word came out in a whisper. Sakura's chest- what remained of it- felt too tight to draw breath.
Kabuto looked at her. His hair fell loose around his shoulders and he had lost his glasses at the beginning of their fight, but despite that his eyes remained focused. The glasses had most likely been a hoax. Something to fool the opponent. Sakura had to admit to their ingenuity. She had been surprised when the Sound-nin had failed to hesitate when his glasses fell to the ground, cracked neatly in half at the nose piece. That surprise was the reason that there was a cut on her forehead that continually leaked blood into her left eye.
His hand was still in her chest as he responded calmly, "Why what, Sakura?"
His reply, so empty of anything, be it cruelty or satisfaction or, hell forbid it, compassion, made the words pour out of her, her voice growing weaker and weaker with each word she spoke to the man with even less humanity than his immortal master. "Why would you betray Konoha and join Orochimaru? Why would you help him destroy the village that used to be your home? Who do you think you are, to do this to us?"
His gaze was steady as he met her eyes. "Konoha was never my home. As for who I am.. ?" He smiled. "I am the man who is helping to bring about the downfall of the most powerful shinobi village in the world. Anything else about me you have no right to know, Sakura. Even if you are about to die."
Sakura closed her eyes. She couldn't feel anything anymore. "That's good. I wouldn't... want to..."
Kabuto frowned. "What?"
It was then that he looked down and noticed the kunai shoved below his ribs. His eyes widened. The cough that followed was flecked red. "You shouldn't... have the strength to do that after your heart is gone."
Sakura smiled, and pulled out the kunai. Blood splayed, and the Sound-nin fell to his knees, his eyes already gone dull. "I don't have the strength... to do a lot of things, Kabuto-san. But getting just this little revenge for what you did to me, and my comrades... that I can do."
Sakura's smile didn't waver as she collapsed on top of the man who had killed her. Her heart was gone, yes. But Naruto was dead, Kakashi was dead, and Sasuke wasn't the boy she had loved anymore, and maybe never had been. Her heart had died with them, and it was from pain, long festered within her from the long ago betrayal of her innocence and the years of despair that followed, that she had drawn her strength. Love was stronger than hate. But hate was all she had left.
Word Count: 406
The Meaning of Genius
Kidoumaru read a lot of books. Most of them were from Orochimaru-sama's personal library, history books on the various wars, strategy texts written by the greatest generals of their era, that sort of thing. Orochimaru-sama approved, of course; Kidoumaru was the only one of the Sound Five who had shown the least interest in the large scale side of battle, in how to wage a full-fledged war against entire villages instead of small skirmishes with only a few opponents.
Even more importantly, Kidoumaru knew how to apply the knowledge he acquired. Not really much opportunity to do so in a cell of only five people (or six, though not officially), but he played strategy games frequently, chess or shouji or go. And he always won. This pleased Orochimaru-sama even more, so much that one evening when Kidoumaru was twelve, after beating Kabuto at chess for the first time, he had overheard his master telling the medic-nin that he planned for Kidoumaru to be moved from the bodyguard unit to the command tower after he reached his majority. The word 'genius' had come up more than once.
Kidoumaru had been pleased, at first, though the thought of leaving his team made him twinge a little. Still... Orochimaru-sama used the word 'genius' when referring to Kimimaro as well.
Kidoumaru hadn't used to focus purely on practical readings. Sometimes he had sneaked down to the civilian village closest to Sound Village and bought novels. Mysteries, adventure... it hadn't matter. Sometimes it felt better to read something mindless, something that didn't require him to think. It was after a few months of reading the insipid, unrealistic civilian books about love, battle, and everything else a civilian couldn't possibly understand like a shinobi could that Kidoumaru had realized something. Civilian authors only used the word 'genius' when referring to the intellect. For fighters... 'talent' at best. Never genius. And it was always implied that 'genius' would win over 'talent.'
It was then that Kidoumaru threw all his novels away. Before, he had found the pure fancy, the unrealistic plots and always happy endings to be a comfort, an escape from real life. But the idea that a genius would always win over 'talent'... that was intolerable.
No matter how much smarter Kidoumaru was than his comrades, it didn't matter when it came to fighting talent. For a shinobi, talent was always better than genius. He had scars enough to know that.
Note: This drabble takes place in theninjakitty's Reverberations universe, where Tayuya and Jiroubou (and maybe the rest of the Sound Four) don't die and drag Chouji with them to Sound, make him think Shikamaru is dead, and he turns out if not evil, then a lot more cynical than he used to be.
Word Count: 755
Not What He Once Was
Chouji was rubbing some lotion into his hands, for the skin always cracked these days with the jutsus he used, when Tayuya walked into the common room carrying several bottles. It was without further ado that she dropped them on the low table in front of the couch and turned around to rummage around in the dish cabinets. Chouji was instantly wary and put down the lotion, one hand reaching for a kunai strapped to his thigh. This situation was unfamiliar, and Chouji had learned that unfamiliar was rarely a good thing here. "Tayuya, what are you doing?"
Tayuya didn't bother to stop pulling out glasses as she curtly replied, "Shut up." Chouji did, but his fingers remained wrapped around the kunai's hilt.
It was then that Jiroubou walked in, though he stopped dead with a puzzled look as he caught sight of Tayuya. Reflexively Chouji felt himself relax. If Jiroubou didn't know what was going on as well, than maybe it would be alright.
"Tayuya, what are you-"
Tayuya walked back over to the table and dropped the glasses- shot glasses, Chouji noted with some curiosity and not a little bit of paranoia- next to the bottles. One of the glasses broke in half. Tayuya didn't pay it any attention, just seated herself down at the couch and started pouring the contents of the bottles into the shot glasses.
Jiroubou and Chouji watched this silently, though Jiroubou sent Chouji an inquiring look, to which Chouji could only respond with a helpless shrug.
It was after a good eight shot glasses were full of liquids that ranged the whole color spectrum that Tayuya leaned back against the couch cushions and regarded the two male nin. They stared back at her, uncomprehending, which soon elicited a scowl from their female comrade. "What the fuck are you two fat asses waiting for? Sit down and pick up a drink."
Jiroubou did so immediately, seating himself on Tayuya's left, though the look he sent the glasses was dubious at best. Chouji remained standing. "What is this stuff, Tayuya?"
Tayuya snorted derisively. "Alcohol, you idiot. What else would it be? I managed to get five different kinds, so choose your poison. The freak and the rainbow twins won't be back from their mission for several days and we don't have any work to do, so this is the perfect time to get shitfaced without Orochimaru-sama tearing any of us a new one."
Jiroubou was the first to pick up a glass, one full of a clear liquid. He took a sip cautiously and made a face. "Vodka. Can't we cut this stuff with something, Tayuya? This tastes like shit."
Tayuya rolled her eyes. "We're trying to get drunk, you fat bastard. What would be the point of cutting it?"
Chouji didn't move from his position behind the couch. Drinking. He was barely fourteen, and Tayuya and Jiroubou were a bare year older, and yet here they were, with five bottles of hard drinks that had apparently been no trouble at all to acquire and every intention to consume them. He half expected his father to walk in, his face growing disappointed as he gazed upon the spectacle, his head shaking as he said, "Chouji, I really expected better of you."
But this wasn't Leaf, him trying out beer with the rest of the genin on Team 10, hiding in Ino's room feeling a little guilty and a little grown up at the same time. And this wasn't Team 10, with Ino egging him on and Shikamaru muttering about how stupid this was. And he wasn't a child anymore, to think sipping beer would help make him an adult. His childhood had died a year ago, along with his best friend.
He was a missing-nin now, a criminal, not a loser genin who no one expected to get anywhere. He had killed people, some of whom hadn't deserved it. He had nightmares of things he had done, atrocities, that he hadn't even known were possible a year ago. If the alcohol could make that go away, for just a little while...
Tayuya was glaring at him now, noting his reluctance. "Hey, butterfly bitch. You wimping out on us?"
Chouji shook his head. Then he stuck out his hand. "Give me a shot of the strongest stuff you have."
The glass she handed to him was accompanied by an amused smirk, but as the burning liquid slid down his throat and settled in his stomach, Chouji couldn't bring himself to care.
Word Count: 284
Familiar Stranger
Even when they had been comrades, Naruto and Sasuke had never really gotten along. There had been rare moments when they understood each other completely, had fought with a comfortable synchronization without a word being said, but those times were far and few between. As Naruto stared at Sasuke now, his old friend's skin disfigured by the seal of the monster Sasuke had accepted as his teacher and the Uchiha's eyes glowing red and malevolent, he couldn't read him at all.
Sasuke's stance before had always shifted, just a little, before he struck. Now he moved without warning, Naruto barely getting a kunai up in time to block. Sasuke had used to frown when his attacks were deflected. Now his expression didn't change, remaining focused and intense in a way that Naruto couldn't help but be unnerved by.
It was only while fighting him, really, truly fighting him, with no holding back, that Naruto realized how much Sasuke had changed in the three years since their parting, even if his appearance had not. Sasuke had grown up and away from Naruto, had turned into a person that Naruto didn't know or really want to know. When he gazed into Sasuke's eyes now, he was looking at a stranger, except worse. Naruto had learned how to kill the unknown shinobi he faced without hesitation, even without prior awareness of how they fought. This enemy- Sasuke- was someone he couldn't defeat. Not without losing in an entirely different but infinitely more important way.
But as Naruto felt Orochimaru's Kusanagi- Sasuke's weapon, now- bite into his shoulder, as he met the Uchiha's eyes and saw nothing there, Naruto knew that his opponent did not feel the same.
Word Count: 638
Monstrous Talent
Around Konohagakure, the word Jiraiya heard most to describe Orochimaru was 'genius,' often when their team was passing by while going to report to the mission desk or on their way to eat. No one even bothered to be circumspect about it, retired shinobi speaking in the loud voices of the partially deaf about how nice it was to see that the new generation wasn't a complete waste of time. Or mothers stage-whispering about the potential of Sarutobi's protege as a provider, both for the village and his eventual family (that one always made Jiraiya want to laugh almost as much as it made him want to cry). Or active shinobi (and they were the worst), the veterans, usually, talking about how that though the Sandaime was young yet, he'd need a successor one day, and it was always good to plan for the future, especially with the war with Cloud and Mist that had no end in sight.
Orochimaru always pretended he didn't hear, his gaze not moving from the road, though Tsunade would giggle at some of the comments, though she snickered the loudest about the ones regarding marriage. They were only sixteen, after all, and somehow it was hard to imagine Orochimaru even dating, much less getting married. Jiraiya spent the time resisting the urge to glare and grinding his teeth. Ten years of being overlooked in favor of Orochimaru, who was boring and kind of creepy and spent most of his time reading academic journals, really grated on his nerves.
But the 'genius' comments weren't the worst. Those were only irritating, and Jiraiya had learned to live with them. It was those few times after missions, the bad ones, the assignments when they came back covered in blood and guts and various other bodily fluids, Jiraiya puking in the bushes and Tsunade washing her hands until they were rubbed raw and Orochimaru's eyes unreadable, that the comments on the street took a different turn. 'Not human' came up more than once, 'monster' as well. But 'demon...' that was their favorite.
Like with the whispers of 'genius' and 'most talented shinobi of his generation,' Orochimaru pretended not to hear, but Jiraiya saw the way his hands shook and his eyes darkened. Tsunade tried to rationalize it, saying people were scared by Orochimaru's lack of reaction, by how he could kill twenty shinobi in a night and not act any different than if he had spent the evening in the library. By how he fought as no one else could, defeated those thought near invincible and come back soaked in their remains. People feared what they didn't understand and what was beyond their control.
It didn't keep Jiraiya from wanting to hunt the whisperers down and beating them within an inch of their lives. He had even does so once, tracked down a particularly gossipy chuunin and breaking both his arms before issuing one or two choice death threats, but he hadn't felt better afterwards and the rumors hadn't stopped, so that was the last time he bothered.
He wondered how people could think that, that Orochimaru was a demon, something not human at all. What kind of demon could get a head cold from washing his hair in a glacier-melted stream and spend the rest of the day sneezing? What kind of demon would sulk for three days because a book he wanted had been bought by someone else? What demon would care what people said about him on the street?
Jiraiya knew with absolute certainty that Orochimaru was nothing close to a demon. Orochimaru was a genius, yes- even Jiraiya would admit that if pushed- but he was also nerd, and a teacher's pet, and... well... what were the chances of a demon being such a total wuss when it came to girls, anyway?
Note: Yes, gelfling gets two. Don't ask why.
Word Count: 512
Never Good Enough
Kadaj's hands twitched whenever he wasn't holding something. He disguised this habit by gesturing wildly while he talked, but Yazoo wasn't anything close to fooled. He did wonder why the hand gestures were being so much more dramatic than usual, though.
"These bikes aren't near good enough!"
At that, Loz, who was the best at mechanics and was currently fine-tuning the steering on his own bike, glanced at Yazoo for a translation. Yazoo shrugged. He didn't really know what Kadaj was talking about either.
As was the habit, Loz, who didn't care as much about looking foolish as Yazoo did, was the one to ask the obvious question. "What's wrong with them?"
At that, Kadaj glared, making Loz flinch. As was the habit, Yazoo, who was as smart as Kadaj if not more so and could argue more convincingly than Loz, placed a placating hand on their younger brother's shoulder. "The bikes work fine, Kadaj."
Kadaj snorted, and with a characteristic flash of distemper kicked his bike, scratching the paint. Out of the corner of his eye, Yazoo witnessed Loz reach out as if to stop their younger brother, but Yazoo shook his head, silently telling Loz to back down. A scratched bike wasn't anything to worry about. Better that Kadaj took his anger out on a bike rather than one of them.
Kadaj was frowning down at the scratch on his bike- as if the mark had appeared of its own volition just to spite him- when he replied frostily, "They aren't fast enough. Nii-san's bike has to be twice as good."
Somehow, Yazoo doubted this. They had taken the bikes a month ago from a small band of robbers who had attacked them- their corpses now rotted somewhere a few hundred miles from Midgar- and Loz had rebuilt their engines twice. The bikes hadn't been bad to begin with, either.
On top of that, they had never seen their rogue elder brother's bike, so who knew if it was any good or not, but Yazoo knew better than to argue with Kadaj when he was in a mood.
It was in his most soothing voice that Yazoo said, "We'll go into town tomorrow and buy new parts, Kadaj."
It was on reflex that Yazoo held his breath as Kadaj considered this, and only released the air out of his lungs after their younger brother nodded decisively. "Very well. We'll leave first thing tomorrow morning."
He then stalked into the cabin they had appropriated for the night (abandoned, but they would have used it either way) and shut the door. For a moment, Yazoo stared after him, and it was with an effort that he wrenched his eyes away to meet Loz's puzzled gaze. "We shouldn't go in for a while, until he calms down."
Loz nodded in agreement, relief starkly spreading across his features. Yazoo felt the same, though he could mask his emotions much better than Loz. He hoped the Reunion would happen soon. Maybe then Kadaj would finally find the peace that had eluded him for so long.
Word Count: 298
I Will Always Protect You
When Ishida fought, he fought alone, for he could never release his true power when the one he was fighting for might be in the line of fire. He fought alone, for he couldn't bear to see the look of helplessness on Orihime's face that so often graced her features whenever she witnessed Ichigo in battle, the expression that said she would never be anything but something to protect to him. He fought alone, because he wouldn't allow himself to rely on anyone else for help, knowing they wouldn't succeed and be devastated by their failure. He fought alone, because when he fought, it wasn't for himself.
When Tatsuki fought, it was with Orihime watching, for she knew that as long as Orihime trusted her, she wouldn't let herself fall. She fought with Orihime watching because it was only for Orihime that she hurt someone outside her martial arts practice, for Orihime was the only one worth protecting. She fought with Orihime watching because she needed Orihime to know she was strong and would always look out for her. She fought with Orihime watching, because when she fought, it wasn't for herself.
When Orihime fought, it was where no one could see, because she didn't want her friends to know of her strength. She fought where no one could see, because she knew her friends needed someone to protect in order to feel strong. She fought where no one could see, because most of her battles went on inside her heart, and those were battles she needed to win alone. She fought where no one else could see, because when she fought, it was for herself. It was when she lost that it was for someone else, and it was in that way that she protected her friends.