#yoshino's thread

[vinodiriso]

“Did you put flowers on Grandpas grave today, grandma?” - Shikadai

July 15th: Shikaku's birthday!!

YOSHINO. 愛

Yoshino ruffled her grandson's thick, black hair till both Shikadai and her ended up giggling. He was the prettiest and most intelligent child she had ever laid eyes on, her heart grew ten sizes larger the moment his parents graced her with the gift of seeing Shikadai for the first time.

The sweet, naive Fujiko, Yoshino's mother-in-law, (rest her soul) had a saying that sounded innocent on her lips yet carried some deeper, more disturbing meaning: "the only thing a Nara's mother can give her son are her eyes". Yoshino's chocolate brown eyes graced Shikamaru's face when he was born, and so did Temari's magnificent turquoise gems set into Shikadai's small visage.

But they didn't let history repeat itself, neither Shikadai's parents, nor his grandma: Yoshino had let the Yukinohana wipe itself from Shikamaru's blood along with her disease, but Temari's tragedy-forged strength together with her caring and most empathetic sides carried over into her magnificent, little man. And so did Yoshino's tales, whispered at Shikadai's bedside hurriedly, terrified she would eventually lose them all, because she was starting to lose a few.

Stories of her tribe, Yukinohana memoirs, Kokuyouseki remembrances, Ainai's noble lineage— and other stories. Stories of a more recent past, a past most warm, the gentlest, the sweetest, the fondest. Stories of a dashing young captain leading a newly founded squadron whose 'simple' objective was winning a war on the brink of loss, of his courage, of his well-earned authority, of his brilliant mind, of his arrogance and how it nearly cost him everything. She told Shikadai that the same young man happened to gradually fall in love with his executive officer, a troubled, standoffish young woman who was desperately in love with him, she told Shikadai of how they ended up getting married despite his family opposing their union, of how they governed in perfect harmony and collaboration and how the fruit of their bond ripened into one of the greatest shinobi of his generation.

Shikadai loved the stories of that young man. He loved hearing the stories of his grandfather. To the point that his tiny, little, 4-years-old brain retained that useless piece of information: July 15th. His grandfather's birthday.

"Not yet, my most darling boy. Shall we do it together?"

[vinodiriso]

“Yoshino! I’m home! Care to explain to me why there is a moustache drawn on my face??”

"what am I supposed to know about this whole thing?~"

[vinodiriso]

@suturedninja, from here.

YOSHINO. 愛

Many within the Nara community were still upset over Yoshino's nomination as the clan head regent, mainly because she was not a trueborn Nara and not even originally from Konoha. It would have been upsetting to her, if it sometimes didn't prove outright comical: she walked the dirt paths shaded by thousand-years-old trees like she had grown up there in their sacred forest.

'Shikaku chose you, almost two decades ago, as his companion: as his father, I was against it, you were not a good match, but you served the clan well. You must continue to serve, Yoshino, for your late husband's legacy... and your own.'

It was no surprise, then, that Yoshino's instincts picked up on an invisible threat in the pollen-filled air as soon as she set foot in the forest. Both Neka and Katsumi, members of the Nara Guard Corps, halted slightly behind Yoshino as she stopped abruptly mid-walk. She ordered Neka to bring as many jounin she could from the Hokage Palace and Katsumi to alert both the Inuzuka and Aburame clan heads: they would need their best trackers on the job. Why? Because she had no reasons to believe she could get out of this fight alive.

Seeing the missing-nin as he treaded silently out of the shadows made her gulp, her forehead sticky with sweat. He had covered his face up enough not to be recognizable to most shinobi, but Yoshino had an incredibly detailed description provided to her, by her son himself. The warning that followed as soon as Shikamaru had finished listing his most prominent features ringed in her ears:

'NEVER approach. You see him going north, you go south. I don't care, he can slaughter up whoever he wants, I am not letting him get my mother!'

Yoshino's stare hardened after Kakuzu uttered his threat, her posture shifting to a more defensive position, the scabbard on her back tilting forward ever so slightly as the twin dao's handles peaked over her left shoulder (Shikamaru insisted she would always be armed whenever venturing in the forest, whether alone or accompanied by her Guard).

"Whatever you are looking for, it belongs to the Nara Clan now..." she snarled, glowering at the towering figure in front of her. Her legs were shaking from fear, but she had to keep courage in her heart: the whole village depended on her right now.

"And I know what you are looking for, nukenin. My son did a thorough job. You will never find him. We will keep him contained here for the next thousand generations. You will fail and we are gonna rip those dead hearts of yours out one by one. That if you don't turn around and leave Konoha forever."

[vinodiriso]

Shikaku walked through the door of his family home and slipped off his shoes. He smelt something cooking in the kitchen and could hear his wife humming to herself. Smiling, he decided to sneak in, walking behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist.

“I’m home.” He whispered, kissing her on the cheek

@shikaku-the-nara || impromptu asks I cherish immensely

YOSHINO. 愛

It had been a really good day. Spring had been extending her motherly arms all around Konoha: the cherry trees were blossoming under the tepid sunlight, the birds were singing their love songs longing for a mate, tiny little heads of faws were starting to fleck the treeline with a gentle hue of brown.

Spring was a good season also because, historically, chakra virus was down low: it was easier for her to maintain her chakra levels steady, her joints hurt less, training came easier and her head almost never throbbed with pain.

To celebrate what a good day it had been, Yoshino chose to treat herself to few of her favourite plates: spicy braised bamboo shots, yuan xiao and jiaozi. She had been cooking for hours, humming a sweet tune from her childhood, when she ended up inhaling Shikaku's scent as her little frame was enveloped in his strong arms.

A tiny, terrified shriek exploded into an heartfelt laughter, fear melting into joy: she was not expecting him that early!

"Hey there, you," Yoshino greeted her husband with a kiss on his cheek, turning her face slightly, "how was your day, honey?"

[vinodiriso]

"Yoshino, do you want to train with me? I'll ask my parents to give you free food next time you visit the restaurant."

@kcgarashi || impromptu asks I cherish immensely! (always accepting)

YOSHINO. 愛

Yoshino arched a quizzical brow at Rera as she was putting her hair up in a messy bun to relieve her sweaty neck. Working out intensely was necessary to beat the chakra virus, to keep her muscles plump and sturdy and to tighten her leash on chakra production within her body.

She was used to being watched by some other ninjas using the training range, nonetheless she was taken aback after realising her audience was little Rera herself.

"Hey, -pant pant- I am always game," she managed to say despite the shortness of breath, "no need -pant pant- to bribe me. Let's make it interesting -pant pant- though: how about a bet, prodigy?"

[vinodiriso]

TsuTsu to ShiShi | It was late, the night cold, only the warmth of the two girls' bodies keeping them from binding together like a tongue on a pole as they stood stubbornly by one another. Tsume exhales as evidence of winter shows up before her face. She shouldn't feel like this. Shouldn't let the tears swell up in her eyes. With a pitiful excuse of clearing her throat. "Let's go Shishi. Can't be out here any longer." Taloned fingers entwining themselves with Yoshino's snow pale hands.

@natsukusaka || impromptu asks I cherish immensely.

YOSHINO. 愛

Some would have said that Yoshino was the strong one of the duo, for Yoshino rarely ever cried, seemed like nothing could touch her and had a heart as heavy as stone, hard to touch for whomever was. Unempathetic, judging, unfeeling, cruel --- many people would have spat this kind of comments about Yoshino if they didn’t know her truly.

Yet Tsume did know Yoshino like the back of her hand, and likewise Yoshino could read Tsume’s very soul. That intimate connection they shared allowed the Yukinohana to state that no, she was not the strong one; it was Tsume. Tsume had a heart which could feel, a heart which could suffer. Yoshino’s heart was ice wrapped in barbed wire, the sole idea of suffering haunted her. She could not suffer more. She didn’t want to suffer more.

Losing Haru like that was too much. Haru gave her life to protect them and the V.I.P they were escorting and neither Tsume nor Yoshino had done anything to prevent it. Sakumo-sensei’s heart broke when Yoshino told him the news, Tsume’s duty was to deal with the Hyuuga (as the heiress of a noble clan herself). They all cried at her funeral, the Hyuuga, Tsume, Sakumo, everyone but Yoshino. Yoshino could not. Yoshino’s grief could not be expressed through words or actions or reactions.

Her hazel eyes moved to the taller girl, but she couldn’t really see her. Closing her eyes a second too long, Yoshino inhaled the brisk, wintry air that pushed their clothes: she was shivering, Tsume was too, but Haru could not be cold anymore. Or rather, she would be COLD FOREVER now. The needles piercing her heart dug deeper, at every beat it seemed like her organ dripped with flesh blood filling her stomach, sickening her, immobilizing her.

“Tsume! Yoshino! Stop being so stubborn, you two! Just apologize, Tsutsu! And you too, Yoshino! You guys are miserable because you have argued, but instead of moving on, you linger in your pettiness! Ugh! Impossible people!”

“Ah...” the kunoichi inhaled to reply to her friend. She wanted to tell the Inuzuka that she would have stayed there a bit longer, torturing herself, blaming herself for Haru’s death, shouting at herself for being a weak little shit unable to protect those dear to her --- this before a realization hit her. If she had let Tsume alone, Tsume too would have thought the same stuff.

That’s something Haru would have never let happen without doing something to prevent it. Leaving a companion to rot in guilt and abandon was not Haru’s style. Yoshino was not as nice or caring as Haru, but it was her Tsume they were talking about: her Tsutsu needed her. And Shishi needed her Tsutsu. Her best friend was doing her best not to cry (prideful, stubborn thing that she was!), but those tears were there, whether Tsume let them out or not. Yoshino had to show Tsume she wasn’t alone --- and hopefully, convince herself of that too. That Yoshino wasn’t alone. That Yoshino wasn’t wretched and done for without her springy flower.

“Alright. Let’s go home, Tsutsu.”

[vinodiriso]

Smooches Shishi's cheek, hand cradling the other. "G'night~"

@peepingtoad || impromptu asks I cherish immensely.

YOSHINO. 愛

Yoshino was already on the highroad to Morpheus’ realm, heavy eyelids drooping over her doe-like gaze. She was exhausted and the only thing she craved was to crawl in her bed held by Jiraiya’s strong arms and getting softly cradled to sleep.

When she felt his lips on her cheek, she had the powerful urge to turn her face just an inch for him to meet her mouth. Of course, the urge passed and left her wanting to kick herself for her stupidity. She would have done so, but she was so tired.

“’Night, Jira-chan...”

[vinodiriso]

@natsukusaka​ || shibi & yoshino, not plotted, but God knows.

YOSHINO. 愛

It was one of those autumn morning where the sun shines bright but, no matter how much one bathes in its light, it just never gets warm. Yoshino enveloped herself tighter in the woolen cloak she was wearing, her hair, left free for once to help her feeling warmer, had a fresh scent of honey and lavender. The cold temperature of the breeze cut through their cheeks: Yoshino’s face, indeed, was red already.

Like all her mornings, it started in Konoha Cemetery. Only recently, though, the first stop of her day would have become her husband’s grave. Flowers and scented herbs handpicked from the Nara forest by the lady herself were laid across his stone, and again, her slender digits traced the name carved into the granite. “Hi, honey. I hope you are okay, darling, wherever you are. The clan is faring well... it’s a little hard, I am not going to lie, everyone misses you so much. Shikamaru has tons of work and he is never home... reminds me of someone, haha! If you care to know, I am okay, honey. It’s tough, but I am getting on. I have to. For your inheritance, right?”

Yoshino stayed by Shikaku’s grave for a little longer, shuddering in her cape and rubbing her hands together in the vain hope she could have gotten warmer. The sky was still lead gray, but the Nara head didn’t care too much for it: she liked those ashen days, it was the right tint to paint her melancholy.

As she turned, she noticed a familiar figure. Tall, wrapped in his neutral coat, the direction of his gaze was impossible for Yoshino to tell. Shibi was an unsought ally in the Konoha Heads Council after Yoshino’s appointment as the temporary leader: while she knew she could count on the support of Tsume, her best friend and life-chosen-sister, and Chouza, one of the few men who could brag the title of Shikaku’s true friend, Shibi’s allegiance to her cause kept on proving a hefty aid.

“Good morning, Aburame-san,” Yoshino greeted him, politely. “I shouldn’t be surprised to see you here. Those of our generation left have many people to visit in this place, don’t we?”