[bleach][naruto] Writing dump?
Well, I'm tired of homework and about to become very pwned by a hurricane named Wilma Flintstone, so here I have two little bits of hastily scribbled writing for you. The first is a Tenten piece I conceived while I was sulking-- I'm actually thinking of writing a longer fic about her, but I've likely jinxed myself with that prediction. The second is another Hinamori ficbit that's been dwelling in the recesses of my brain for...oh, three months?
Norm
When Tenten was five and had nothing to do, she studied her hands. They were almost incongruous with the rest of a human body, she thought, with skinny things branching off of them and really, no other part of her body was so...well, wiggly and flexible and;
when Tenten was seven, she discovered that she could touch the inside of her wrist with the thumb of the same hand- her mother screamed when she found her daughter on her floor with her hand bent inward at a sharp angle to her arm and Tenten merely blinked and straightened it out with a pop;
so when Tenten was eight, she entered the Academy with the knowledge that she was indeed strange, and expected her talents to be out of place, but it later turned out that long-skinny fingers were perfect to wrap around the handle of a kunai and double-jointed wrists made the shuriken spin just so and land dead center in the target with a thump that drew eyes from across the courtyard. What she would through her life find becoming only more true, as she grew, was that what was strange for a girl was the norm for a shinobi-- and helpful, and useful, and generally pretty nice.
When Tenten was an ageless girl-woman-child (age not truly mattering to the ninja who could die at young ages and become killers younger still) fighting alongside a demon, a very unique master of hard work, an avenger, a freed pawn of fate, and a village at some time or another, she mused that she was never really all that strange or unique anymore, even as she flicked her wrists back to a right angle and worked her hands into a whirlwind, in context.
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Fit to be Tied [working title, ahaha]
Matsumoto-san stretched from her position draped over the side of a couch, and the vice-captains present turned away. Whether it was due to the painful-sounding cracking of a joint or the opportune movement of clothing that the light blush across Hisagi-san's face would suggest was anyone's guess, and Momo wasn't truly up to picking one.
Neither was she up for the sudden question. "Hinamori, why do you wear your hair like that?"
The assorted vices were gathered and arranged haphazardly across the typical meeting room in various stages of polite disinterest or boredom. While captains' meetings were punctual, official, and far more dull, their vice-captains didn't truly bother with the guise of a meeting on some days. Truly, it was a place to dump the vice-captains while they were waiting for their superiors to finish whatever mess of bureaucracy was up for debate at the moment, and today was one of those times where No One Really Cared, so it seemed to her. After all, not even half had bothered to attend, and Abarai-kun was snoring somewhat indelicately.
Kira-kun nodded. "Ah, right; Hinamori-kun always used to wear her hair in..." He gestured vaguely to the side of his head.
"Pigtails?" she supplied, picking at the hem of her hakama. She, at least, was kneeling on the tatami, legs folded primly. "Um, my hair grew too long for that."
Matsumoto-san blinked. "Ah, but you still could. Was it such a bother?" she queried. "Or do you just think it got in the way too much?"
Momo hesitated, eyeing her colleague. Matsumoto-san's shimmering waves of hair looked remarkably untangled, and she shrugged. "No more than yours would, but it's more practical."
Of course, Tobiume had informed her helpfully when she'd become a ranked officer, hair was very flammable and the most prudent course of action would have been to cut it off entirely. She'd tied it up into a ponytail once, but the best way she could keep her hair long and not get caught in her own shikai was a bun.
Matsumoto raised one shoulder in a half-shrug with a yawn. "It makes you look more mature, anyway."
Momo did hope no one caught sight of the pink skittering across her cheeks then. As if on cue, the door to the adjoining room flew open, and the captains of Soul Society's Gotei 13 flowed out; after Kuchiki-taichou had unceremoniously knocked his subordinate awake and she'd waved to Hitsugaya-kun, she caught warm brown eyes behind lenses and scrambled to her feet.
Aizen-taichou smiled and placed a hand on her head, and her mind finished that train of thought for her. Another convenient reason as to why she kept her hair up was that Aizen-taichou had once mentioned that it was like a beautiful secret-- since her hair was always in a bun, it was startling that her hair was so pretty and long when it was down.
(Later, after all was done and he-- they were gone and little was said, she cut it for practicality's sake and Hitsugaya said in an oddly rough voice that it looked good anyway.)
Bah, humbug. Not happy with these; I'll try to revise them later, when I'm not facing imminent doom and much homework~
Norm
When Tenten was five and had nothing to do, she studied her hands. They were almost incongruous with the rest of a human body, she thought, with skinny things branching off of them and really, no other part of her body was so...well, wiggly and flexible and;
when Tenten was seven, she discovered that she could touch the inside of her wrist with the thumb of the same hand- her mother screamed when she found her daughter on her floor with her hand bent inward at a sharp angle to her arm and Tenten merely blinked and straightened it out with a pop;
so when Tenten was eight, she entered the Academy with the knowledge that she was indeed strange, and expected her talents to be out of place, but it later turned out that long-skinny fingers were perfect to wrap around the handle of a kunai and double-jointed wrists made the shuriken spin just so and land dead center in the target with a thump that drew eyes from across the courtyard. What she would through her life find becoming only more true, as she grew, was that what was strange for a girl was the norm for a shinobi-- and helpful, and useful, and generally pretty nice.
When Tenten was an ageless girl-woman-child (age not truly mattering to the ninja who could die at young ages and become killers younger still) fighting alongside a demon, a very unique master of hard work, an avenger, a freed pawn of fate, and a village at some time or another, she mused that she was never really all that strange or unique anymore, even as she flicked her wrists back to a right angle and worked her hands into a whirlwind, in context.
----------
Fit to be Tied [working title, ahaha]
Matsumoto-san stretched from her position draped over the side of a couch, and the vice-captains present turned away. Whether it was due to the painful-sounding cracking of a joint or the opportune movement of clothing that the light blush across Hisagi-san's face would suggest was anyone's guess, and Momo wasn't truly up to picking one.
Neither was she up for the sudden question. "Hinamori, why do you wear your hair like that?"
The assorted vices were gathered and arranged haphazardly across the typical meeting room in various stages of polite disinterest or boredom. While captains' meetings were punctual, official, and far more dull, their vice-captains didn't truly bother with the guise of a meeting on some days. Truly, it was a place to dump the vice-captains while they were waiting for their superiors to finish whatever mess of bureaucracy was up for debate at the moment, and today was one of those times where No One Really Cared, so it seemed to her. After all, not even half had bothered to attend, and Abarai-kun was snoring somewhat indelicately.
Kira-kun nodded. "Ah, right; Hinamori-kun always used to wear her hair in..." He gestured vaguely to the side of his head.
"Pigtails?" she supplied, picking at the hem of her hakama. She, at least, was kneeling on the tatami, legs folded primly. "Um, my hair grew too long for that."
Matsumoto-san blinked. "Ah, but you still could. Was it such a bother?" she queried. "Or do you just think it got in the way too much?"
Momo hesitated, eyeing her colleague. Matsumoto-san's shimmering waves of hair looked remarkably untangled, and she shrugged. "No more than yours would, but it's more practical."
Of course, Tobiume had informed her helpfully when she'd become a ranked officer, hair was very flammable and the most prudent course of action would have been to cut it off entirely. She'd tied it up into a ponytail once, but the best way she could keep her hair long and not get caught in her own shikai was a bun.
Matsumoto raised one shoulder in a half-shrug with a yawn. "It makes you look more mature, anyway."
Momo did hope no one caught sight of the pink skittering across her cheeks then. As if on cue, the door to the adjoining room flew open, and the captains of Soul Society's Gotei 13 flowed out; after Kuchiki-taichou had unceremoniously knocked his subordinate awake and she'd waved to Hitsugaya-kun, she caught warm brown eyes behind lenses and scrambled to her feet.
Aizen-taichou smiled and placed a hand on her head, and her mind finished that train of thought for her. Another convenient reason as to why she kept her hair up was that Aizen-taichou had once mentioned that it was like a beautiful secret-- since her hair was always in a bun, it was startling that her hair was so pretty and long when it was down.
(Later, after all was done and he-- they were gone and little was said, she cut it for practicality's sake and Hitsugaya said in an oddly rough voice that it looked good anyway.)
Bah, humbug. Not happy with these; I'll try to revise them later, when I'm not facing imminent doom and much homework~