"You're against being blended but fully embrace being part of a fruit salad?"
This wasn't the first, nor the last, time that he would be helping someone with their hair. It was, unfortunately, a role assigned to him by the other guys because of their ability to perceive his appearance. He didn't question the role, but didn't believe that it fit, necessarily. Thankfully, they avoided asking him questions pertaining to clothing.
"... try a middle part. It's sticking up too much on one side."
A pause.
"Do you have a comb?" He sounded like he couldn't believe he was even asking that.
"What?" Shikamaru scrunched his nose with distracted confusion as he wrestled what was becoming a less and less fruitful (ha) venture. Clearly it looked about as awkward as it felt.
Exasperated, the Nara shook his head, arms falling to his sides in defeat, his shoulder-length hair flaring out in what one could only describe as 'bedhead'. "Carrying shit around that you don't really use all the time is such a pain..."
"Just-- I dunno, fix it. I can't see what I'm doing anyway." Shikamaru presented his unruly hair, likely looking for a miracle at this point.
Well. That was interesting. Glyphs and transformations were somewhat warded in this sanctum for the security of the crystals. Letting anyone walk in here looking like an ordinary elf is a good way to get stabbed. Especially since his work was controversial among some of the other magisters.
All this to say he wasn’t completely surprised at the way whatever magic this creature used was disrupted by the anguish. He could see the outline of something else under the cloak it was using. But it wasn’t really his business to ask too many questions, much to Rommath’s annoyance to his dismissiveness.
The fun little light show however was quite unusual. His vision had the small speckles of black and red that comes from a sudden exposure. He’s never seen mana act like that. It was hard to look away but it came with a consequence for his curiosity. Perhaps it would have been better to have handed over a wyrm core to start with. Nausea was a wave later but he certainly wasn’t going to let anyone see him weakened by an arcane explosion. It wasn’t so different from the flash of arcane mages and sin’dorei can force from their bodies in a dire battle.
“You should reapply your disguise quickly. Before someone walks in here. My kin are on edge enough with everything going on. Another oddity is bound to get you arrested or killed.” He spoke without much shift in his ever calm tone. His eyes shut calmly until his side effect left and the static like dispersing of the arcane in the air faded. After a deep breath he opens his eyes to look at the creature. “If you are unable, I have a study in my sanctum on the lower level that no one may enter but me.”
Yes he probably should report this. But what’s the fun in that? Those short tempered paladins would put this thing down before he could ask any questions.
For what had fully intended to be a mischievous prod into the inner workings of a place that an outsider like Jin clearly had no business in, now, was something a little more serious. Perhaps it was in part how unserious this pale elf was about the baubles he so casually handled. Usually, one got a good gauge of the things they were dealing with, and, admittedly, Jin came to the sharp realization that such reliance had put him in a peculiar situation.
The power this plane dealt in, mana, as he had come to know, was similar to what Jin was familiar with, but by no means was it the same. The strange energy buzzed in his ribcage, made his eyes water incessantly. It made for a poor disguise when the clothing on one's back wept.
Despite his discomfort, Jin flashed a charmed look up at this researcher, by the looks of it, smiling sweet if not with a bit of a quiver. "My, my, what a... gracious host I've stumbled upon." An antenna twitched, catching the faint noise of approaching footsteps. Time was short. Jin had to accept that some degree of compromise was necessary lest he wind up in far less entertaining trouble, not when he felt so... unusual.
"Then you'll be so kind as to --" Jin winced as his senses contorted the stimuli of the absorbed crystal into something more familiar. Watery eyes turned to a salivating mouth, the buzzing now more of a pulsing surge of adrenaline. What in the ever living fuck... "-- carry me?" It may not have been what he intended to say, but a quiet, undisturbed place was too alluring an offer to pass up.
Anderson had been in the midst of a text chat with Moira when the door to the shop finally opened again. He glanced up as the ghoul passed him, keeping his face carefully neutral as she waved, positively twittering over the modification to her features. He only offered her a nod as he replied, “God be with you, child.”
Flirting happened more often than he cared for, but many people wanted what they couldn't have, whether they knew it or not.
But Jin's voice accompanying her came as another surprise, and he watched as the mothfiend followed her out into the moonlight. He was coming along after all? That was a relief. As capable as Anderson was, there would only be foul tempers all around if he'd had to resort to violence.
He got to his feet and pocketed his phone before handing the bagged bottle of wine over to Jin. Whether he intended to stow it inside the shop or take it with them was up to him, but enough time had already been spent.
“Father Anderson,” he introduced himself. “Shall we go?”
Emboldened, with another giggle the ghoul blew a kiss at the handsome priest before scurrying off where the shadows of the alleys swallowed her up. By the time she made her exit, Jin had properly moved from the front of the apothecary to tread barefoot through the garden where Father Anderson had patiently waited.
No longer obscured by dancing wisplight or the shadows of the rafters, his figure was defined under the sharp glare of moonlight. He was a slender individual with an air of grace and refinement about him. But where the form of something human nearly fit his mold, notions of more flitted from within the layers of a most gaudy, deeply purple coat with bright cyan patterns resembling the mimicry of eyes one found in the animal kingdom, a guise to ward off predators. Sometimes, they seemed to move. An equally cyan laurel of sorts split from his forehead and curled around, fitted, but ethereal in the way the little fronds shivered in the soft wind. His fingertips were blackened, nails uncomfortably sharp. But what was perhaps the most damning of these strange collection of features were his eyes. His sclera were dark, irises some piercingly bright color that made the juxtaposition all the more apparent.
Tainted at best, inhuman, undoubtedly. "Huiyan Jingyi. Jin is fine. Ambassador if you must." He returned the introduction, collecting the priest's offering with a surprised please. It was no century-old wine coveted by the noble class, but it was more than the Vatican had done for him in ages. Charming. But a little cheap favor would not have been enough for Jin to dive into the political nightmare of the Vatican... Intrigue, on the other hand, was.
A priest, an Iscariot no less, with discretion was a rare treat. The price of a dimple... the bar of expectations was in hell. How fortunate for this father.
"I suppose so, Iscariot." Graceful steps strode through the refreshment of the garden and beyond where the cobble streets met the perimeter of what he called home. For a moment, he paused, glancing down the length of the block one way, then the other before a short, bemused scoff puffed out.
"Am I correct to also suppose the Vatican sent no form of transport?" Par for the course, truly. So stingy of late. With a curl of disgust, Jin turned his head away from the dirty streets, repulsed at the thought of walking, like some beggar summoned to the palace of a king. "Poor thing, sent to do errands without even the courtesy of a taxi. Do you always have to go by foot?"
"Jin, can I sit on your back and have you fly over Konoha for a bit? Why? Because the air is crispy and fresh today, I'd like to experience it from above. Also because it's fun."
A large, spindly hand pinched at a ridiculously dainty teacup, sipping the small offering of sweet tea within. Naturally, all eyes moved to Shino per his request. With a practiced grace of a too-large creature in a miniature world, the mothfiend set the cup down in the grass.
"It is my pleasure to oblige." Jin hummed softly, towering over his small summoner. "I will not question your confidence." Shifting forms in such a massive way was certainly taxing, but thankfully did not need further sustaining after all was said and done.
Unflinching, Jin scored with a sharp circle with a vertical line with a claw-like finger on the center of his palm, purplish blood spilling.
"Palm to mine." Jin instructed. An important lesson, and a brisk fly above Konoha. Idyllic as it came.
Kakashi tsks at him, irritated but unable to put his finger on why. He should excuse himself from the conversation- no one likes an argumentative prick, after all, and he knows between the two of them there won't be a happy resolution, but he'd just told him he'd walk him home, and leaving is a worse admission of weakness than arguing.
To him, anyway. He is aware he may have some emotional issues that need to be worked on. He is not doing that.
"Worse? Again, compared to whom?" Kakashi shakes his head. His skillset is such that most missions kind of bore him, he hardly thinks that's worse. "Genin are shinobi, Iruka. They will die in a war just as quickly as a chuunin, or a jounin- in fact, they die a lot faster." Ask him how he knows. "They die because they're unprepared, because they're coddled. Because adults don't take them seriously, so they don't take themselves seriously. I don't think that children understand quite what they're getting into when they graduate, but once they've become genin they are no longer children. They're soldiers."
If there ever was a moment that Iruka wished to eat those words before he ever spoke them into existence, now would be the time. What Kakashi said was nothing new. It was just a sharply defined illustration of what was expected, the way things were. At some point or another, a shinobi had to know how to defend themselves. If they did not, they died. They could not be coddled and killed with kindness. Iruka knew that his problem was personal, and perhaps even a sign of a systemic weakness that neither served him, the village, or the children he taught. But it felt rotten all the same to unwittingly stray into the spotlight of everything he was not. What if he got a student killed, unprepared because he did not have the stomach to break them in?
A glum expression fell over Iruka like a cloud. "...R.. right." He managed to meagerly reply. In all honesty, he wanted to throw up, but even that provoked a nagging thought that such thinking too, was just another evidence that his soft heart did not do anyone any favors, including himself.
His shoulders sagged, eyes trained on the dirt path ahead. Home never felt further. "Than me, Hatake. I'm saying that you have it worse than me." The smile that quirked into the corner of his mouth was not a happy one, something resigned and a little frustrated, at himself, at someone as highly decorated as Kakashi for rubbing his nose in it. "But I suppose I may just have to continue to disappoint. It doesn't feel right to me. We're not just soldiers-- we're human too. I'm not saying to coddle them, but..." He wished had more and better words. He wished he was as articulate.
"...maybe you're right. Maybe it's that kind of thinking that will just get them killed."
"Someone" has stocked Zabuza's fridge, making sure he has an arrangement of various vegetables and fruit. This completely anonymous benefactor, has also gotten him a pack of senbei. In his fridge, there's a container of corn soup, a small bowl of sunomono, and a plate of grilled eel. The rice is in the rice cooker.
The life of a swordsman was never predictable. Structure and expectations were checked at the door, and one became an instrument at the hand of the Mizukage for the benefit of the Land of Water and her people. If only it were so idyllic. If only Zabuza returned after what was an endless stream of bloodshed and violence feeling satisfied and proud. Quite the contrary, really.
Numb steps soldiered on through the threshold of his small apartment, and the moment that infamous blade left the magnetic holster on his back and was set to rest against the wall, the exhaustion hit him like a rogue wave. He almost missed how strange it was to not come be coughing through the layers of dust his little rathole accumulated when he was gone. Wearily, Zabuza came to lean against the wall, head cocked and brows furrowed deeply. It was not just the cleaniness. A deliberate bowl of fresh fruit greeted him, the smell of warm, comforting rice wetting his starved body. And for a very long time, he stood there, in part too weary to start his momentum again, in part in disbelief. His face had contorted into something exceedingly vexed, but just as much... .. moved, in some way.
Within the hour, Zabuza was sprawled on his couch with an over indulgence of foods one could scarcely dream about in the endless mire of battle and travel. On occasion, a grateful Kiri citizen would feed a swordsman if they could, but one could not rely on such generosity. So to say he perhaps had let his craving for something filling and tasty get the better of him was... Accurate. Bits of crumbled senbei left flakes around his mouth, empty bowls, and Zabuza found his head falling back onto the cushions.
Briefly, the thought of such a bounty being poisonous crossed his mind, and he made a face. "Fuck it..." He grumbled. It tasted damned good, he was a bit over full, but nothing that would make the impending coma any less sweeter. If he didn't wake up, he was going to die in the blissful embrace of delectables.
And Zabuza was not long for the world, as soft, rumbling snores filled the room shortly.
Isana turned slightly, though navigating in the tight space wasn't easy. Still, she managed to turn just enough so that her back was facing the opening of the small cave. This meant at least her face was protected from any potential sandstorm, and Jin would be shielded from most of it too, thanks to being covered by her body.
"This would have been a great time for me to have a summon," Isana said, thinking out loud. If she had something that could completely block the opening, it would have been even safer for them. Isana made a mental note for the future that gaining a summon could be useful in many situations.
She listened intently to the storm picking up outside. At one point it would be best to close her eyes, but for now, she kept looking down at the moth in her hands. Her curiosity only grew, the more time she spent with him.
"A Heavenly Trial," Isana said, trying to get a feeling of the concept as she spoke it out loud. It was foreign to her; she wasn't a religious person and this was not part of her culture. She wondered if Jin believed this was a test from some God.
"I don't know about that. This is the Land of Wind, after all. It's only natural for sandstorms to happen sometimes," she says, hoping to reassure him. She hoped it didn't sound dismissive of whatever he had tried to tell him.
It was strange after all; how Jin had known this would happen, without any warning. Fascinating, Isana thought. He seems connected to nature in a different way than me.
Lethargic wings fluttered once, then fell to rest in the safety of the sanctuary Isana had made of her flesh and bone. And while dark in this slim opening, the glow of Jin's wings proved to be more than just bioluminescence; it was enough to light the small pocket they shared with slow, undulating pulses.
Jin was quiet for a time as the wind and stinging sands hissed against the smooth sandstone about them. If there was any desire to engage the denizen of the desert on the nature of sandstorms, he did not speak on it. It was a human's every right to believe as they did. To demand one to bend to the whims of another without precedent or right was poor form. And he had no such burning fervor that itched to preach.
'Do your people in the sands contract often?' Jin pulsed quietly, the patterns of light seeming to be the vector this time to speak without words. It was certainly more clear this time around. Time would tell if it would be without negative affect. For now, however, there was time to shed, and while knowledgeable of a deep many things... admittedly, the desert was not a place he often ventured.
Not unless he had explicit purpose.
As focused as she was on the reptile and the boy, Suraya noticed the chilled air about the same time Haku's eyes fixed on a then-unknown factor. If she hadn't caught the man's scent already around the camp, she might have reacted more aggressively to the blade wielding shinobi who leaped out of the darkness beyond the firelight.
Given the state of her— a bloodied beast too close to the younger human— she couldn't blame him for his reaction.
The blow would have been a killing one had she not moved with Haku's pushing. She ducked and her jaws snapped, teeth closing on the executioner's blade with a grating of metal. She was surprised to have to take another step back from the force, but she made no move to wrench the blade away from the man. She only held it in place, keeping it from moving again until Haku could explain things.
“I assume this is your companion?” She asked Haku, mumbling around the sword.
The resonant clang of steel meeting bone cut into the muggy air of the night. From what had started as a sudden eruption of movement and breach of peace at the quiet campsite, just as quickly came to a sudden stillness. Every flex of muscle the reptilian 'threat' was charted by calculated eyes. But the deadlock of concentration was disrupted as Haku gathered himself out of the reeds, mud streaked across his face. Zabuza's grip loosened. And when Haku stumbled, his decision was made, dropping to a knee to steady the boy.
"Y-yeah..." Haku mumbled weakly, taking a moment to catch his breath. "She's ... She's nice, Zabuza. It's . It's ok."
Cold eyes glinted back to the bloodied maw of the beast whose teeth currently held his blade. She had spoken, intelligent. In the very least there was more than met the eye of his original assumption. "...pleasure." He replied tersely towards the spinosarus, skeptical, but not immovable. In the very least he was willing to suspend his belief, perhaps riding on the relief that Haku was just a bit muddy rather than the pile of gore some feet away. ... A crocodile?
Instinctively, Zabuza shepherded Haku back to the warmth and light of the campfire, a little rigid, taking it in.
"S.. sorry.." Haku said as loud as he could muster but it really didn't make it all too far beyond Zabuza's imposing frame as he was made to sit. So, rather then let him try again, Zabuza echoed the message, louder.
Kiba's hissed as his cock spread Shino apart, deliciously slick with sensation. And once seated, he could not help but quiver how well his arousal was taken, how every small movement made him twitch and throb until his hips rutted on their own accord, grinding, cyclical, and slow. Shino felt amazing, a temptation that Kiba had known would be impossible to resist once indulged. Whatever foreplay he had teased evaporated under a fervent, punctuated grunt, caving to a more carnal pace.
The fingers delicately brushing the rim of Shino's sunglasses twitched, hungry, sore with temptation. He loved the way his companion looked at him with those mystifying eyes, something almost otherworldly, strange, and undeniably Shino. So when Shino freed his lip from his grounding punishment, a little moan escaped. Lured by promises of soothing and commitment, Kiba came to hover over Shino properly, the slick slap of his thrusts seeking satiation. His sorely tempted fingers slipped, tracing down Shino's arm, to his wrist, to his hand, entwining not just their pinkies, but their fingers as well.
His grip tightened, eyes nearly rolling back. "So..." He exhaled raggedly in a poor attempt to be casual. "You say you wanna kiss me... hnn..hna... Make it--shhn.. all better?" But the look in his eye, his body language, Kiba as a whole was anything but casual. It might as well have been an earnest request, to be kissed, to be wanted. As though that somehow were still something on his mind, being balls deep in Shino already...
As Kiba moves, cock dragging so deliciously against his sweet spot, sultry gaze on him, Shino struggles with the urge to crane his head back and lose himself in the sensations. It takes a lot of willpower to keep his head up, eyes open - muscles twitching with every little wave of pleasure. He grips Kiba's hand as a futile attempt to keep his focus, threatening to slip with every moan out of Kiba's mouth and every throb making his cock drip.
Jaw hung open, brows twitching, Shino clumsily meets his partner's thrusts, knees raising to lean on Kiba's sides. He huffs and grunts, so pent-up from all the teasing - worryingly so! Kiba isn't going all out and Shino already feels overwhelmed.
"Hahh- c-come here.. Kh-" His hand caresses its way past Kiba's face to take a firm hold of the back of his neck, thumb pressing just under his ear. Shino pulls him down and meets him halfway, mouth open and hungry, messy, teeth clacking against Kiba's. The taste of iron fills his mouth but Shino is too far gone to be bothered by it. Especially not when a perfectly angled thrust hits his spot dead on, ripping a moan from his throat followed by a muffled curse into Kiba's mouth.
Shino pulls away a few centimeters to gasp, nails digging into Kiba's neck and dragging down his muscled back, so attractive, "K- Kiba, hah... If I cum first- d- don't stop-!" His abdomen tingles, cock heavy and leaking quite generously over his abs, which is bound to happen when one's prostate gets so stimulated. Shino tries to kiss Kiba again, drunk with pleasure, clumsy, pushing his face into his partner's and nudging his sunglasses. "I'm messed up-!" He groans, "and... 's your fault... Hn good..!"
Watching Shino struggle to keep his promise made Kiba's cock ache, a sensation he made sure to pass along as his pace built to something steady, relentless. He was all to eager to meet Shino's sloppy, open-mouthed kisses that became more swallowed moans than pure contact. And he needed to hear more. The way Kiba chased those gasps and curses was intentional, every sound going straight down to his raging erection that swelled in the slick of Shino's insides.
The scoring pain down his back, however, elicited something between a whimper and growl. For half a beat, Kiba's paced slowed, allowing him to truly appreciate the beauty of Shino spread beneath him, so close to the edge. A wicked sort of grin twitched into the corner of Kiba's mouth as a hand smoothed its way down his partner's tightly wrapped thigh, to his waist, then curled around that weeping, pleading cock.
"I want you to come first." Kiba rolled his hips at a slow, deliberate pace again now that his eye was on the prize. He started to pump Shino's engorged cock with a bit of admiration to its size and just how much there was for him to toy with. How easy it was for him to bring a thumb to that sensitive underside and rub the pre cum of Shino's dick in large, circular motions.
Kibra breathed hot into Shino's ear, temples pressed together as he fucked into him. Inside and out, a shared rhythm that gave Kiba the perfect fixation to stave the shuddering need to finish right there and now. But no. He needed Shino's sensitive, orgasmic state to drive into, to destroy every thought other than helpless bliss. The pump of his hand quickened, reveling in the filthy wet sound it made.
"So cum." Kiba insisted with a purr. "Cum for me Sh.. shino~"
Now, Miko never had been the best artist, but her skills were decent enough what she’s drawing could be distinguished. She never had the opportunity to really practice growing up, aside from little doodles of moths when she spotted one, to significant details of a crime scene attached to notes. Simple things. Now.. she wished she had been taught, to become better at a skill she’s lacking. Ah, on well.
Mikoto turned her attention completely onto Jin. She saw the gesture, knew what it meant. Nodding mostly to herself, she crept closer until she was a mere few feet away. She turned the book around so the creature could examine her work. Little details of the wings, limbs. All jotted down into one cohesive picture. “I know I can’t do any better, but I think I captured you nicely enough,” she told him with a soft hum, her eyes bright. Watching his reactions.
“Silk tree..” came the echo. Ah. Never heard of it before, but maybe in older, ancient books held something about it. About the beings, clans, traditions, lost to time. “Do you need a distinction?” She questioned, eyes flickering to Jin’s face. “Or are you, ah.. satisfied, with how you are? Could you change, if you wanted to?”
A clawed finger cut and extracting paper from notebook with exactness, leaving not even an imprint on the page behind. It was made in his likeness, therefore, it was his now. An offering of the heart, no matter the form or mastery of craft was one acceptable by his standards. As to whether or not Mikoto had intended to part with the sketch was not even a thought.
"Satisfied?" Distinction? His attention was split between the offering and Mikoto proper, but ultimately, her questions won over his curiosity. "The form present before you is at equilibrium. I am, admittedly..." He was careful to choose his words, delicately skating around what perhaps was a source of tenuous pride he did not wish to maim.
"... not practiced in shaping my form. Perhaps, if it is a need of the summoner, I would speak differently then." It was safe to say blending in was among his less admirable attributes, as unnatural tall and elongated his figure was. And when it came to human features, there was a notion of a bipedal thing suffocated under the layers and layers of fluff and wings, it was always the face that was most... haunting, he had been told.
Pale, features distorted. His eyes were too large, his nose too narrow, and the split of his mandible-like mouth served as a nail in the coffin on closer observation. Too many hands... too many eyes. A night terror to the unsuspecting.
"I do, sometimes, wish I was not so frightening to children."
The lack of reaction to the blood didn't strike Suraya as concerning. Shinobi of all kinds were more or less used to the sight of such things, weren't they? She nodded at the assurance that the two would mind their surroundings; she didn't doubt they'd do so without her warning, but it never hurt.
“Something this size or a little bigger would do for a meal, if I ate most of the available meat,” she said, setting aside another strip of flesh and scutes.
But at the hesitant request for her scraps, Suraya stopped and looked down at him, gore still dripping from her jaws.
“What do you mean? This is for the both of you. I wouldn’t be so cruel as to bring a whole carcass back to your camp and relegate you to eating whatever I leave behind,” she said. “I’ll be eating whatever you don’t. (I’m just trying to deal with the hide and scales for you first.)”
Haku was caught with open-mouthed silence. Something glistened in his eyes from the flicker of the fire, warbling with a sudden surge of emotion. His fists balled with emotion as Haku struggled to find the words to convey his deep gratitude. It was not even a small kindness easily given. It was a hunt! A full alligator!It would have been cruel, yes, but to fathom that a sentient being that he had known for so little was willing to expend so much on his behalf. Suraya had not even met Zabuza.
Speaking of...
Suddenly, Haku's eyes snapped up, the chill of the air betraying what chakra was hidden in the roll of incoming mist. Immediately, he understood his guardian's intentions, no part of a snap judgement lending kindly to what one would reasonably judge a massive spinosaurous as a threat.
"W-Wait!" He cried out as a figure burst from the swampy glades, blade loathsome and mid-swing to decapitate the beast that had gotten too close and, from the gore of its lips, had found quarry. Pure and utter fury, however, was made hesitant when Haku's voice proved a critical piece of information that did not align with what Zabuza had assumed to be the worst.
Desperate hands pushed at Suraya's leg as though someone his size could move her at all.
"Suraya!"
Konan had taken up the offer, never likely to stay more then two nights in fears of over stepping her welcome. She would always vanish before the sun rose on the second morning, a small gift left in her place be it a bottle of sake, a blended mix of tea or an origami sculpture when she had no money left to spare and no energy to steal from someone who wouldnt miss it.
This small space had become a second choice, when her footsteps where being followed and she didnt wish to lead whoever was watching her to the children she would slink away into the damp corners of Amegakure and find herself at Tsubaki's doorstep.
The rain poured from above as she made her way through the streets. Keeping her head low despite there being little to no one around this early in the morning. On the door of the beloved orphanage, a warning had been nailed. Simple and clear, someone was after her and if she kept her presence around the cildren they would be considered collateral. She would knock on the door, the tea shop still closed but her motion was frantic even if polite. Watching over her soulder as she pulled her coat tighter to protect from the weather. As sheheard movemet from behind the door she would fumble on her words. "They are watching the orphanage." Her voice shaking from the icy air and rage within, "They left this on the door, one of the kis could have found this first!"
The tea shop was closed at this hour, but never really. Even when all the staff had cleaned, locked up, and gone home, there was always one who occupied the interior whether it was 'Hagetaka' or a subordinate placed in his stead. Tsubaki was the restless sort, but lately, he haunted the endlessly weeping city of Amegakure. There was never a shortage of need here. As such, there was never a shortage of business opportunities.
He opened the door to the frantic knocks, reaching for the feather-slicked cloak in anticipation to enter the elements. Ah, it was her. The poor girl... Although there was nothing girlish in her rage, nor the ice that spread through it. Calloused fingers took the notice and threat. He turned it over, felt the grain, searched for telltale markers of an organized group behind such a thing. He found nothing. Just a paper, just ink.
"... the least of your worries." Tsubaki commented, something prickling and nostalgic over the woman's priorities. The slightest discomfort a child outweighed the fear of being hunted alive like an animal for their fur. Admittedly, there was something in this game of underworld cat and mouse that Tsubaki derived a certain pleasure from being better than her pursuers.
"You are far more valuable than an orphan." He explained, slipping on his cloak and taking up the well-worn straw hat that was soon in need of replacing in the quick rotting conditions of Amegakure. "If they were any bit smart, they'd take a child or two hostage for your quiet surrender." A good tactic, targeting someone vulnerable to tip the scale.
"How many children are there?"
Unprompted Asks
Status: the way I frothed at the mouth when this came into my inbox??
It started shortly after this strange entanglement of theirs had begun, a combined doting that blurred the boundaries of accomplice and lover.
Like moons orbiting the same planet, they were drawn by that irresistible gravity that was one such Copy Cat shinobi. Now, however, there was no denying the proximal effect they now had on the other. Tenzo felt Gai's pull on him every time he opened his mouth in loud boasts of his rival, the burning sincerity of his atmosphere as it came frictiously close to his own. Until this point, Tenzo had always been the sole commander and chief over his feelings. His long pining towards his childhood friend and savior built walls of solitude and strength. They were walls of safety for the one he held such reverence for.
But they crumbled under the unrelenting force of Gai's presence.
It was like watching a vagabond defile sacred grounds of worship that Tenzo had carefully constructed. To him, it was selfless love; to provide and never ask for anything in return. But where Tenzo respected boundaries, Gai vanquished them, plundering, cast doubt as to whether they were truly boundaries in the first place or merely hesitations Tenzo had disguised his cowardice. And it made him positively restless. It really did not help that Kakashi, their mutual beloved, had been away for an eternity on some godforsaken mission.
Tenzo missed him. They both missed him. And it was a crash of relief and gratitude that washed over him when that weary figure stumbled through the door of the cramped apartment. Their exchange was soft. "Welcome home" and "good to be home" was fresh water in the relentless heat of the desert. He wanted, desperately, to engulf Kakashi's weary form in his arms, drink in his scent, and, if he dared, steal a kiss.
But Tenzo didn't. He… couldn't. The bags beneath Kakashi's eyes were dark and sleepless, and his shoulders sagged in the way that they did when he had exhausted his strength and chakra beyond what was healthy. And if there was anything core to Tenzo, it was never to burden his beloved senpai. So, he guided Kakashi to bed, helped him change out of the grimy uniform and into one of Gai's oversized shirts and joggers. Kakashi was practically asleep before he even hit the pillows. And Tenzo left him to the quiet darkness, slinking out of the bedroom.
It was not long before Gai also returned having spent the majority of the day celebrating Asuma's engagement to Kurenai. Tenzo swore he could hear the staggered, drunken steps of the man as he swayed through the narrow alley leading to the apartment and rose to meet the sweet fool who surely had one too many in honor of his comrade. But even drunk, Tenzo had forgotten just how fast Gai was, finding their bodies colliding at the door as Gai staggered forward when Tenzo unexpectedly opened it. Tenzo had to brace a step backward to prevent the both of them from falling over.
"T-tch… Gai.." He hissed with an urgency to keep it down.
"But dear Yam-- Tenzo! It is a most marvelous occasion that two true souls have found--" Gai was not allowed to continue bellowing when Tenzo covered his mouth.
Tenzo's eyes narrowed, and Gai's brows furrowed, then, sprung up in realization.
"Hmm--HMPH!" Gai exclaimed in muffle. And then it clicked, and he nodded in understanding, broad hand curling over Tenzo's hand to peel it from his mouth. "He's home?" Gai 'whispered' as quietly as possible.
Tenzo nodded. "Asleep." At least hopefully he still was.
Wiping a tear from his eye, Gai happily sighed. "I knew it felt like a home again…"
Gradually, Tenzo extracted himself as Gai's muffler and support, but could not help but to agree…. He found himself strangely feeling the loss of warmth from Gai's toned form almost suffocating his own… Not a new feeling, he knew that much. But it was the sort that left a little ache behind that must have showed on his face, because when Gai lazily sprawled on the couch after such a demanding day, his deep baritone rumbled out to him.
"Come, sit with me." He inelegantly scooched with little success to make a place for Tenzo to join him.
There was something hopelessly endearing the way he peeked behind those full lashes. And Tenzo found himself moving towards the couch, but elected to stand than to try to squish himself into what could hardly be considered space.
Their conversation was painfully boring; idle, quiet, chatter about the day, which was 'fine' the weather, 'good', Asuma was 'happy', Kurenai 'cried', but it did manage to lure Tenzo closer to the couch despite himself. Gai prattled about youth again, his favorite obsession, second only to Kakashi which had Tenzo thick in the throat. Tenzo watched those lips that already started boasting of his rival moved. So animated. He had seen them at work too, lavishing Kakashi's pale body in mumbled kisses only for their ears, a flash of teeth teasing, completely and entirely engrossed. The way Gai guided Kakashi's hand to touch him…
It made Tenzo feel like an outsider looking in. Yearning… to defile. Yes, he knew he was jealous but it was more than just a comparison. It was more like a mirror of strangled wants realized. When Tenzo kissed Kakashi, it was always so chaste and sweet. It was an adornment on every peak and valley, a prayer of worship wrapped in layers of soft cotton to keep every jagged, broken edge far, far from touching Kakashi. Every undesirable part of him, tucked away. Especially now. Now, he stood far too much to lose. But it left him feeling… feeling…
"Eyes like those make me feel you want to eat me alive." Gai chuckled nervously.
He was not wrong. And Tenzo's inability to brush it off made both of them a little embarrassed. And when Gai followed with, "d-do you want to eat me alive?" with the faintest note of concern, Tenzo pressed the flat of his palm against Gai's proud, broad chest to keep him from standing. His fingers curled into the fabric of Gai's ridiculous get up, eyes caught in a dark haze. The space between them evaporated as Tenzo slid into Gai's personal space, knee brushing against the inside of the other shinobi's leg, keeping him spread.
Outside of their little liaisons with Kakashi, such affections between just them two were .. uncertain waters. And after a brief moment of what was Tenzo's last shred of willpower, he caved, crashing into Gai in a wanton storm of desperation.
It startled Gai, of course it did. But his competitive mind was quick to adapt, mirroring the intensity with searing intent that made Tenzo's body shudder. And it flooded him with a surge of feelings he could hardly parse one from another. These were not the chaste kisses he offered Kakashi. They were dark and hungry. The way he tried to pant, but Gai stole his breath, a strong hand brushing past his cheek to pull him down by the neck so Tenzo was practically straddling him.
But just as the urge to bite with intent to leave a mark came, just as his teeth were set to print his need on Gai's toned flesh, Tenzo snapped himself out of it. Embarrassed, he began to withdraw. But Gai was ready for him. With the speed of someone who had danced this strange tango a time or two before Tenzo got cold feet, Gai was not ready to leave the ballroom. He took Tenzo's wrist hostage, made him gasp.
"Did you like that?" Gai murmured in a shout whisper, gentle all the same. Kakashi was sleeping in the other room, after all. Something about the risk of waking him made it all the more devilishly exciting. And it glittered as a rising stake in the dark of Gai's eyes.
It never ceased to astound Tenzo how brutally efficient his companion was. It left him stunned. It made him shiver. Maybe that was why, instead of another apology or deflective excuse, he shook his head. "…I did, but I shouldn't have."
Visibly baffled, Gai's grip started to loosen. Tenzo took it as his ticket out, vent some steam, let the frantic, pacing animal gnaw at its cage a bit before he returned to the house, but just as he started to pull, Gai's grip clamped like iron.
He would not let Tenzo escape this time. Not when it was so crystal clear it was not a matter of affection, but of worthiness. To that, Gai had no qualms in assertion, emboldened by a problem he could fix. "Why shouldn't you?" Gai's thumb caressed over the pulse of Tenzo's wrist, grounding, comforting. Perfectly capable. Perfectly understanding.
Tenzo frowned. "It's.. pretty selfish, don't you think? Taking what I want, just because I w… wa…" The words evaporated before he finished, realization dawning on what had just tumbled out of his mouth.
"I want you to be selfish."
Tenzo's mouth moved, but it was in empty protest. And when he dared look again, Gai's earnestness waited for him. It made him lightheaded. It was like there was nothing but those dark, passionate eyes, swallowing him up, inch by inch. Hard to say who was eating who up at this point, but Tenzo could not find a bone in him that cared, let alone resisted.
He could feel his face burning in Gai's atmosphere as he drew near again. Scorched earth, something brutal, something primal. Right as their lips pressed together, Gai spoke again, now that Tenzo had come irreversibly so close a second time.
"What else do you want to do?"
Abashed beyond any hope of redemption, Tenzo could not stand to look at Gai's eyes anymore, but he could not look away either. He, who was straddling Konoha's Green Beast, snared. His eyes shut half-lidded. Finally, a breathy whisper came at Gai's ear, trembling with need.
"...to fuck."
Gai grinned, sighing with a relief as though he truly never thought this moment would come. "Gladly." He practically purred with embarrassing enthusiasm.
"But you'll have to keep it down..." Tenzo whispered huffily, eyes flashing to the bedroom door where Kakashi was enjoying his much needed rest.
"Oh... I'm not worried about me."
It was a strange thing for it now to be over. When their relationship had started, the figments of an idealized person gradually caved to reality. The aspects of Gai that Iruka claimed to be why he loved him became annoyances and embarrassments. The unstoppable beast and chivalrous partner of his dreams was unchanged. But the longer Iruka devoted his time and heart, the less this fantasy appealed to him. Gai fearlessly charging into the face of every danger meant he seldom was around to spend time together. His poetic ideals of dying for an ultimate cause struck a grim reality of how little seemed to compare to that romancing of death.
But if that had been all, Iruka would have parted ways a long time ago. For just as the empire of fantastical dreams had crumbled, what remained was the subtleties of an earnest soul that was beyond what school boy imaginations Iruka could have had. For at the root of every embarrassing public announcement was an immovable sincerity that has warmed Iruka to the core. Gai's time was never idle, and where it was not devoted to his ideation of death, every waking moment was dedicated to others. To Lee, to his team, to his eternal rival, to Iruka. He was kind. And as their relationship progressed, Iruka found himself falling in love all over, perhaps, falling for real. A little backwards, maybe, out of order, probably. But it did not change the way Iruka's gaze always softened when it came upon Gai, despite the flaws that drove him crazy.
Those flaws, however, in the both of them, led them to where they were now; apart. Iruka had sat on the park bench on his winding route home for hours now, drained, eyes puffy, chest hollow. Maybe, if Iruka had tried harder to understand how important dying for a ultimate cause was to Gai, they would still be together. He wouldn't have shouted at him. Wouldn't have cut him off, wouldn't have been so hurt as to burn the bridge to the most beautiful soul he had ever met. But deep down, Iruka knew that even if he had 'done better' it would have resulted in one of two ways; Iruka would either live with a broken heart knowing that Gai would rather die for him rather than live with him, or be alone. And there was only a matter of time before one would lead to the other.
So logical, yet such a hollow comfort to his violently shaking shoulders as dry sobs racked his body where he had no more tears to give. He still has to get to the school house and arrange for a sick day, but he simply had no strength left. This was what he wanted, right? To break it off, to free them both. It was unfair to keep butting heads and demanding the other to change their fundamental ideals, Iruka knew this. But the way his heart bled now made him wish to take everything back anyway, anything to stop the hemorrhage.
It was over. It was the only way, only shot that either of them could find happiness again. Iruka clung to this thought desperately for the little consolation it gave. Hell, maybe it was doomed from the start, living in two different worlds entirely. A shinobi of the battlefield, hardened and living with the ghosts and trauma of their daily strife versus a shinobi behind a desk whose greatest wound was long since healed with time and given new purpose in the soft confines of a little academy and children. Gai's wounds must reopen often. How could he understand him?
Maybe, someone like Kakashi had been truly beat suited all along.
The thought cut deeper than Iruka anticipated, tears springing anew from some unknown place that he didn't know he had left to give. The eternal rival... The comradery, the understanding they must share. How... Delusional, Iruka had been to even think he could compare to THE Copy Cat. Hell, Green Beast, Copy Cat... He should have gotten a clue from the fact that they both have titles honoring their deeds on the battlefield. 'Sensei'... What a pale comparison. He should have seen it, let himself see it long before. Long before he truly fell in love with Gai, before all this mess.
The evening sun passed into darkness, and Iruka was unmoved. He was drained. It was possible he had drifted asleep at some point, only for the sprinkle of morning dew to rouse him and his stiff body. The sun crested over the ridge of mountain faces all looking far beyond someone as small and insignificant as he was. Mechanically, Iruka rose; he was going to be late. He has failed to get a substitute, and frankly was too tired to think of any alternative other than marching his way to the schoolhouse and handling his duties himself. He might have tried harder to put on a brave face, but when he passed a coworker on the way to his classroom, but his command to his face to smile went entirely unanswered, his glum expression startling his fellow instructor. They asked if he was unwell. Iruka said it was nothing a shinobi couldn't handle.
Surely, heartbreak was not fatal. Even if Iruka felt every bit of vitality had drained from him, he was still alive and breathing.
...
....... And he supposed so long as he had the ability to breathe, there was a future yet. ..... Only.. a future without Gai hardly seemed a future worth living at all. Funny, that.
