Drabbles for 31_days: Sterility (Bleach) & Reverse Psych (Naruto)
Made this one on time. Hmm... It was GN day again today. (Gad, I nearly slept several times. -__-) I managed to write a part of this, though, and finished it a few minutes ago.
It's Bleach and it's on Hitsugaya. It's written in a style different from how that one shot was written--gah, what's it's title again? Heh. My own fic and I can't recall. Arg. Anyway... Not that bad. I'm kinda fond of the unspoken commiseration between Hitsugaya and Matsumoto. ^^;; But that's just me.
September 15 / Your eyes closed
started:12:15 091505
The room was small, painfully quadrangular. With white walls, white sheets, and white linoleum, it looked sanitary to the point of offensiveness-yes, he was a slob as a kid, so what? The smell of disinfectant wafted from elsewhere, further accentuating the aseptic feel of the hospital. It all seemed so sterile, so unanimated.
So dead.
There were flowers, of course, and other little trinkets to soften the severity of standard-issue furnishing. Division Four, despite the disproportionately small budget and respect given to them, had housekeeping responsibilities on top of their healthcare ones. They were good in making things homey and warm. (He secretly thought Unohana motherly, he had to admit.) This room, however, suffered from its sole occupant. Its white walls remained static and cold, because there was no human energy to bring colors and voices and feelings.
She wasn’t like a doll, not with its airbrushed cheeks on a porcelain face. There were circles under her eyes, the color of a banana you stuck in your pocket early that morning when you peel it in the afternoon, mottled and mushed. Her skin practically blended with the environment. A breathing cadaver then.
Of course, she was hardly even breathing. The machines kept her suspended in life, but no, they didn’t make her eyes open. There weren’t instructions for that in their operating manual.
He was standing there now, taking his leave, but did that prove his cling to life was more tenacious than hers? She was supposed to be more stubborn than him, more optimistic, more earnest. But she was also failed by the two-three, counting him-people she trusted most, and maybe that sort of thing tended to loosen your grip on things. At least, two of those people were definitely sorry. Of course, that didn’t make a difference, because the unapologetic one was the one who mattered most to her, the one that broke her.
“Taichou.” A voice, hushed as people usually assume in places like hospitals and mortuaries, came from the doorway. “We’re leaving.”
Hitsugaya turned and acknowledged his vice-captain-no, he wasn’t the only one teeming with questions, twisting with unsaid things, proud and strong and pained. “We’ll meet the others at the gateway,” he said, an idiotic statement, probably, to indicate he was in charge. He had his childish moments. So what?
He glanced a last time at his childhood friend as he exited out the sterile room.
Her eyes were still closed.
~September 15, 2005 (23:58)
Bleach / Hitsugaya / drabble
Day / Theme: September 15 / Your eyes closed
Started: 091505 12:15 Finished: 23:58
Word Count: 405
---
This next one I'm posting is a one-shot written for September 9. This is the drabble I said I didn't finish last Friday, being too sleepy.
It's senseless fluff but I like it.
-__-;; Believe me, it's uncharacteristic of me to write this stuff, especially on SasuSaku @__@.
...
...
...I can't help it, if I like it.
^^;;;
September 9 / The new exotic ~~unposted~~
Naruto / Sakura / drabble / SasuSaku
started: 11:32 090905
Konohagakure no sato, as with every other place, had its own mysteries. One of those mysteries involved the visage of the White Fang’s sole child, Hatake Kakashi. Nobody could ever quite attest to seeing the Copy Ninja’s face----nobody living, at least. Another mystery was regarding the parentage of Naruto, the almost-surely-many-people-fear-definitely-soon-to-be incumbent Rokudaime Hokage. The Yondaime couldn’t have just plucked him out of nowhere to seal in the Kyuubi in his navel. Who gave birth the night the Yondaime Hokage died? Who was Naruto’s mother? And another mystery, strangely related yet again to the old Team 7, was the marriage of Uchiha Sasuke to Haruno Sakura.
There were two minds on the issue: one, Sasuke wasn’t worthy of Sakura, and two, Sakura wasn’t worthy of Sasuke. The debate on worth aside, the marriage was made known one day by the wind’s whisper (whoo whoo whoo), which steadily grew louder and persistent (WHOA WHOA WHOA), and eventually lambasted the whole village like a tornado(WHA?! WHA?! WHA?!). There was not a semblance of wooing, no scandalously gushy proposal. One day, somebody made an offhand remark about Sakura not taking her usual path home, and then suddenly everybody noticed that, as a matter of fact, she wasn’t leaving from the Haruno home every morning either.
The “close, personal friends” of the two were blase about the whole business. Oh, the cake was freaking awesome, Naruto said. Kakashi chuckled himself breathless. The Hyuugas sniffed impatiently, as if to say everybody knew, so why ask? The Godaime praised the fine sake, and Jiraiya-sama the couturiere. Shikamaru the strategist sighed pityingly. Ino fainted. Chouji recited the menu. Konomaharu, honorable grandson, transformed into a physically embellished Sakura wearing her wedding kimono. Rock Lee and Maito Gai broke down into tears of commiserating joy. Kiba howled his-well, you get the idea.
The more logical people, however, immediately came upon an answer: Sasuke needed a wife to preserve his line, and Sakura was probably the only woman the asocial jounin knew enough to even consider marrying. Upon hearing this theory, Sakura grudgingly conceded that the statement was true. She was practically the only female Sasuke was on speaking terms with.
Of course, based on her own experience with the reticent ninja, she knew Sasuke didn’t consistently base his decisions on logic. Au contraire, the mednin thought smugly, many of Sasuke’s major decisions in life were actually governed by powerful, long-lasting emotions. (For example, defecting from Konohagakure no Sato fifteen years ago.)
Outwardly, Sasuke was his same distant self. They walked in the streets nearly a foot a part. He very rarely touched her, and only spoke to her of the most rudimentary of issues. He barely even looked at her. Sakura took it all in stride, and few people were able to gather enough guts to demand why she let herself be treated so atrociously.
Inner Sakura often giggled at seeing the sheer effort those worried faces belied just to keep mum. She knew it was a little mean; they were only worried for her. Though the Sasuke at home was quite different, it was hard to offer explanations. Telling people the lone Uchiha liked coming up behind her to silently cuddle her or nuzzle her neck would be met with pitying doubt. Describing the Avenger as being decidedly affectionate and puppy-like in attention giving/seeking would probably receive hoots of laughter. (Not to mention the said man would most likely go up in flames upon hearing such stories about his private life.)
Sasuke probably knew of his reputation as a cold bastard, and he became bolder in his... well, his passes. He began playing with her, teasing her even outside the house, as long as he was sure nobody was looking. In an empty lounge in the mission assignment center, for example, he would close their distance with a rough pull, hold her to him from behind with steel grip, and nibble on an earlobe surreptitiously. A tiny creak of a footstep from a room away, and suddenly he would be on the other side of the room, acting as if Sakura didn’t even exist.
Okay, so it irritated her. (Why, yes, it was super embarrassing to be seen hyperventilating over a pile of musty old medical records.) Sakura, however, bless her devious mind, had certain ideas on how to remedy the problem.
She turned it into a game of sorts, a competition between husband and wife on who dared to stay in the dangerous position the longest, who dared move away last. At first, she had a winning streak, reminding the sharingan wielder of the hideous strength hidden in her slim arms as she held him to her with an arm or lips (or teeth or tongue) mere slivers of a second before somebody came into the room, impishly smirking his smirk as she leapt away. She never mentioned it, though, not even in the privacy of their home.
Sasuke has always been a little too competitive for his own good. Within a month, he was winning the unspoken game. Suddenly, she was pulling away, cheeks reddened, when a battalion of genins were on the verge of bursting into a scroll room. Suddenly, he was the one who refused to let go when she mumbled in warning about a group of apprentice mednins about to come back from lunch break.
One day, he didn’t pull away at all.
It was at Kakashi’s pad. They were having a mini-reuninon----something about somebody’s pet’s birthday. Naruto and the sensei had just stepped out to gather victuals (aka greasy packages from the nearby fast-food store), when Sasuke, in his usual offhand manner, began a light, lingering, and perfectly wholesome little make-out session.
Apparently, Naruto didn’t think it light, lingering, or perfectly wholesome. He shrieked bloody murder at the sight of his two old team mates kissing in the kitchen (or in his more graphic terms, “sucking each others guts out in public, dammit!”)
Kakashi did his best to comfort the poor, disturbed blond.
“I’m missing something here,” Naruto later growled as he sulked over a barely-touched bowl of take-out ramen.
“I’m not,” drawled the silver-haired bachelor, flipping through an old volume of the Icha Icha series. “Once you’ve watched a few, it’s fairly predictable what they do. Or rather, what they’d do next. And why.”
“You’re a pervert,” the other accused.
“A very observant pervert,” the unrepentant man corrected.
Seemingly deaf to the discussion in front of him, Sasuke was smirking through the kiss that he absently bestowed on his wife’s cheek.
Sakura, meanwhile, was having a hell of a time keeping a smirk off her face as she studiously chewed on a mouthful of yakisoba, girlishly bashful and gleefully triumphant.
~September 11, 2005 (9:09pm)
Naruto / Sakura / one-shot / SasuSaku
Day / Theme: September 9 / the new exotic ---UNPOSTED in 31_days---
Started: 23:32 090905 Finished: 21:09 091105
Word Count: 1125
I'm sleepy now. Tomorrow, I have orientation day. Eheh. At least, there'll be free coffee.
It's Bleach and it's on Hitsugaya. It's written in a style different from how that one shot was written--gah, what's it's title again? Heh. My own fic and I can't recall. Arg. Anyway... Not that bad. I'm kinda fond of the unspoken commiseration between Hitsugaya and Matsumoto. ^^;; But that's just me.
September 15 / Your eyes closed
started:12:15 091505
The room was small, painfully quadrangular. With white walls, white sheets, and white linoleum, it looked sanitary to the point of offensiveness-yes, he was a slob as a kid, so what? The smell of disinfectant wafted from elsewhere, further accentuating the aseptic feel of the hospital. It all seemed so sterile, so unanimated.
So dead.
There were flowers, of course, and other little trinkets to soften the severity of standard-issue furnishing. Division Four, despite the disproportionately small budget and respect given to them, had housekeeping responsibilities on top of their healthcare ones. They were good in making things homey and warm. (He secretly thought Unohana motherly, he had to admit.) This room, however, suffered from its sole occupant. Its white walls remained static and cold, because there was no human energy to bring colors and voices and feelings.
She wasn’t like a doll, not with its airbrushed cheeks on a porcelain face. There were circles under her eyes, the color of a banana you stuck in your pocket early that morning when you peel it in the afternoon, mottled and mushed. Her skin practically blended with the environment. A breathing cadaver then.
Of course, she was hardly even breathing. The machines kept her suspended in life, but no, they didn’t make her eyes open. There weren’t instructions for that in their operating manual.
He was standing there now, taking his leave, but did that prove his cling to life was more tenacious than hers? She was supposed to be more stubborn than him, more optimistic, more earnest. But she was also failed by the two-three, counting him-people she trusted most, and maybe that sort of thing tended to loosen your grip on things. At least, two of those people were definitely sorry. Of course, that didn’t make a difference, because the unapologetic one was the one who mattered most to her, the one that broke her.
“Taichou.” A voice, hushed as people usually assume in places like hospitals and mortuaries, came from the doorway. “We’re leaving.”
Hitsugaya turned and acknowledged his vice-captain-no, he wasn’t the only one teeming with questions, twisting with unsaid things, proud and strong and pained. “We’ll meet the others at the gateway,” he said, an idiotic statement, probably, to indicate he was in charge. He had his childish moments. So what?
He glanced a last time at his childhood friend as he exited out the sterile room.
Her eyes were still closed.
~September 15, 2005 (23:58)
Bleach / Hitsugaya / drabble
Day / Theme: September 15 / Your eyes closed
Started: 091505 12:15 Finished: 23:58
Word Count: 405
---
This next one I'm posting is a one-shot written for September 9. This is the drabble I said I didn't finish last Friday, being too sleepy.
It's senseless fluff but I like it.
-__-;; Believe me, it's uncharacteristic of me to write this stuff, especially on SasuSaku @__@.
...
...
...I can't help it, if I like it.
^^;;;
September 9 / The new exotic ~~unposted~~
Naruto / Sakura / drabble / SasuSaku
started: 11:32 090905
Konohagakure no sato, as with every other place, had its own mysteries. One of those mysteries involved the visage of the White Fang’s sole child, Hatake Kakashi. Nobody could ever quite attest to seeing the Copy Ninja’s face----nobody living, at least. Another mystery was regarding the parentage of Naruto, the almost-surely-many-people-fear-definitely-soon-to-be incumbent Rokudaime Hokage. The Yondaime couldn’t have just plucked him out of nowhere to seal in the Kyuubi in his navel. Who gave birth the night the Yondaime Hokage died? Who was Naruto’s mother? And another mystery, strangely related yet again to the old Team 7, was the marriage of Uchiha Sasuke to Haruno Sakura.
There were two minds on the issue: one, Sasuke wasn’t worthy of Sakura, and two, Sakura wasn’t worthy of Sasuke. The debate on worth aside, the marriage was made known one day by the wind’s whisper (whoo whoo whoo), which steadily grew louder and persistent (WHOA WHOA WHOA), and eventually lambasted the whole village like a tornado(WHA?! WHA?! WHA?!). There was not a semblance of wooing, no scandalously gushy proposal. One day, somebody made an offhand remark about Sakura not taking her usual path home, and then suddenly everybody noticed that, as a matter of fact, she wasn’t leaving from the Haruno home every morning either.
The “close, personal friends” of the two were blase about the whole business. Oh, the cake was freaking awesome, Naruto said. Kakashi chuckled himself breathless. The Hyuugas sniffed impatiently, as if to say everybody knew, so why ask? The Godaime praised the fine sake, and Jiraiya-sama the couturiere. Shikamaru the strategist sighed pityingly. Ino fainted. Chouji recited the menu. Konomaharu, honorable grandson, transformed into a physically embellished Sakura wearing her wedding kimono. Rock Lee and Maito Gai broke down into tears of commiserating joy. Kiba howled his-well, you get the idea.
The more logical people, however, immediately came upon an answer: Sasuke needed a wife to preserve his line, and Sakura was probably the only woman the asocial jounin knew enough to even consider marrying. Upon hearing this theory, Sakura grudgingly conceded that the statement was true. She was practically the only female Sasuke was on speaking terms with.
Of course, based on her own experience with the reticent ninja, she knew Sasuke didn’t consistently base his decisions on logic. Au contraire, the mednin thought smugly, many of Sasuke’s major decisions in life were actually governed by powerful, long-lasting emotions. (For example, defecting from Konohagakure no Sato fifteen years ago.)
Outwardly, Sasuke was his same distant self. They walked in the streets nearly a foot a part. He very rarely touched her, and only spoke to her of the most rudimentary of issues. He barely even looked at her. Sakura took it all in stride, and few people were able to gather enough guts to demand why she let herself be treated so atrociously.
Inner Sakura often giggled at seeing the sheer effort those worried faces belied just to keep mum. She knew it was a little mean; they were only worried for her. Though the Sasuke at home was quite different, it was hard to offer explanations. Telling people the lone Uchiha liked coming up behind her to silently cuddle her or nuzzle her neck would be met with pitying doubt. Describing the Avenger as being decidedly affectionate and puppy-like in attention giving/seeking would probably receive hoots of laughter. (Not to mention the said man would most likely go up in flames upon hearing such stories about his private life.)
Sasuke probably knew of his reputation as a cold bastard, and he became bolder in his... well, his passes. He began playing with her, teasing her even outside the house, as long as he was sure nobody was looking. In an empty lounge in the mission assignment center, for example, he would close their distance with a rough pull, hold her to him from behind with steel grip, and nibble on an earlobe surreptitiously. A tiny creak of a footstep from a room away, and suddenly he would be on the other side of the room, acting as if Sakura didn’t even exist.
Okay, so it irritated her. (Why, yes, it was super embarrassing to be seen hyperventilating over a pile of musty old medical records.) Sakura, however, bless her devious mind, had certain ideas on how to remedy the problem.
She turned it into a game of sorts, a competition between husband and wife on who dared to stay in the dangerous position the longest, who dared move away last. At first, she had a winning streak, reminding the sharingan wielder of the hideous strength hidden in her slim arms as she held him to her with an arm or lips (or teeth or tongue) mere slivers of a second before somebody came into the room, impishly smirking his smirk as she leapt away. She never mentioned it, though, not even in the privacy of their home.
Sasuke has always been a little too competitive for his own good. Within a month, he was winning the unspoken game. Suddenly, she was pulling away, cheeks reddened, when a battalion of genins were on the verge of bursting into a scroll room. Suddenly, he was the one who refused to let go when she mumbled in warning about a group of apprentice mednins about to come back from lunch break.
One day, he didn’t pull away at all.
It was at Kakashi’s pad. They were having a mini-reuninon----something about somebody’s pet’s birthday. Naruto and the sensei had just stepped out to gather victuals (aka greasy packages from the nearby fast-food store), when Sasuke, in his usual offhand manner, began a light, lingering, and perfectly wholesome little make-out session.
Apparently, Naruto didn’t think it light, lingering, or perfectly wholesome. He shrieked bloody murder at the sight of his two old team mates kissing in the kitchen (or in his more graphic terms, “sucking each others guts out in public, dammit!”)
Kakashi did his best to comfort the poor, disturbed blond.
“I’m missing something here,” Naruto later growled as he sulked over a barely-touched bowl of take-out ramen.
“I’m not,” drawled the silver-haired bachelor, flipping through an old volume of the Icha Icha series. “Once you’ve watched a few, it’s fairly predictable what they do. Or rather, what they’d do next. And why.”
“You’re a pervert,” the other accused.
“A very observant pervert,” the unrepentant man corrected.
Seemingly deaf to the discussion in front of him, Sasuke was smirking through the kiss that he absently bestowed on his wife’s cheek.
Sakura, meanwhile, was having a hell of a time keeping a smirk off her face as she studiously chewed on a mouthful of yakisoba, girlishly bashful and gleefully triumphant.
~September 11, 2005 (9:09pm)
Naruto / Sakura / one-shot / SasuSaku
Day / Theme: September 9 / the new exotic ---UNPOSTED in 31_days---
Started: 23:32 090905 Finished: 21:09 091105
Word Count: 1125
I'm sleepy now. Tomorrow, I have orientation day. Eheh. At least, there'll be free coffee.