whatever tomorrow brings

[hdcbandas-deactivated20220807]

[vermilioncross]

Journeying into a New World

[sylvannymphe-blog]

The fact that he is following her has got to be a good sign. She has no patience whatsoever, so she’s glad she doesn’t have to call back to him. Being a child of the shore doesn’t make her any less eager to reach the water’s edge as she positively flies down the steps and into the sand. The sand dunes block their view of the ocean, but the sound of it is already quite loud.

It’s very normal to Kayla. It’s the lullaby that sings her to sleep every night when her parents are too busy to come and kiss her goodnight. It’s her music when she’s alone in the house and she is too short to reach the record player or the radio. The ocean is her one and only constant companion, her best friend. Everyone else leaves, But the ocean is constant and yet always changing.

The sun is very bright today, and it glares off the sand blindingly. She’s too preoccupied with running in the sand, huffing and puffing from the effort, to look back at her new companion. The boardwalk over the dunes is just ahead, and she reminds herself of this as she dashes forward on stubby legs, kicking up beautiful white sand that contrasts against her dark hair.

They’re over the boardwalk and back into the impossibly fine sand quicker than she’d like. But now she is nearly there, and she finds herself in the wet sand that borders the surf with its comforting spray and salty smell of the sea. There are sea shells underfoot and she dances around them somewhat gracefully, twirling happily and letting a peal of bubbly laughter mix with the crashing of the waves. Her sundress is a nuisance now, as she has already determined that she will be getting wet.

She stills suddenly, letting the surf wash over her bare feet and cleanse her legs of the sand sticking to them, a bright and happy smile dominating her features. She’d like to throw off her dress and jump in, since she was wearing her bathing suit underneath. (As would any sensible ocean-reared child.)

But as for that, she supposed it was time to acquaint herself with this boy. After all, she had heard so much about Uchiha Sasuke-san.

She turned to look at him then, quickly locating his dark hair and clothing on the brilliantly white beach, watching him for a minute in interest, unable to find anything to say. She had never been that good at first meetings, anyway, They may have been introduced earlier, but it was not the same as meeting for the first time.

[vermilioncross]

Rinako flies across the sand with a sure-footedness that catches Sasuke by surprise.She hadn’t seemed so confident earlier in the comfort of her living room, but under the summer sun with the rush of the waves nearby she seems careless. She twirls around the rocks and seashells, her dress billowing around her, and doesn’t bother to look over her shoulder to check that he’s following her. She is a thing of single purpose, her destination the ocean.

His stomach tightens in envy. Sasuke never feels so free. At eleven-years-old he already has a job, a planned future. Were he a romantic like his brother, he might even go as far as to say that his destiny is carved in stone.

“It’s impossible to escape fate.” Itachi says one day. They’re in the elder Uchiha’s room at the time, Sasuke laying on the floor as he pursues one of the academy textbooks and Itachi sitting at his desk. The words are said without preamble, and Sasuke looks up in surprise, concerned at the look in Itachi’s eye.

He didn’t understand the look at the time, but he understood what Itachi meant. Like so many of their Clan, they are probably destined to live short lives and die brutal and bloody.  The knowledge is like a weight on his chest, suffocating him whenever he thinks about it.

Itachi tells him not to think about it. He says that shinobi should be selfless. A shinobi should be willing to lay down his life for people he doesn’t even know. Shisui, were he still here, would only laugh loudly, a twisted smile on his face. They say jump. We say: where’s the cliff? It hurts to think of his uncle, so far away and so many years gone.

The girl’s laughter breaks him from his thoughts. He glances up sharply, surprised to find her staring at him at the edge of the shore. The waves are rolling over her (bare) feet. She wiggles her toes, and Sasuke fights the urge to kick off his sandals and dip his feet into the water. It wasn’t easy running through the sand with them on, but he doesn’t feel prepared for the unexpected with them off.

Sasuke doesn’t feel prepared for anything right now, actually. He feels exactly like he should feel if he were normal: awkward and unsure in the face of speaking to a girl. Which is ridiculous. He’s already spoken to her already. That was back in the house though, with adult eyes watching over their interactions, and being free of the grown-ups has turned the tables. He opens his mouth and immediately closes it, tongue tied.

Rinako is still staring at him. Her bright blue eyes flash like the water and Sasuke looks into them cluelessly. They’ve come to a stalemate.

[medicamen-deactivated20150516]

πάθος

[medicamen-deactivated20150516]

Kabuto watches Sasuke struggle to stand and holds back a laugh. He helps pull him up when Sasuke wraps his fingers around  Kabuto’s wrist, though, and moves to throw Sasuke’s arm over his shoulders to better support him. Let it never be said that Kabuto didn’t know how to take care of his patients.

“Come on.” Kabuto begins leading Sasuke to an open room, walking at a slow, easy pace that the other shinobi could keep up with. There will be blood on his scrubs from this, but Kabuto doesn’t care. He’s got many other pairs and it might come out in the wash. Sasuke is a heavy weight, a line of heat against his side. They reach an open room and Kabuto walks Sasuke to the bed, pushing him down gently until he’s sitting. “Strip off your armor and shirt,” Kabuto says, “I’m going to need to look at those wounds.”

He closes the door to the room for privacy; he has a feeling the Uchiha wouldn’t want anyone seeing him vulnerable. Kabuto can relate. In fact, he can relate all too well, and debates pulling the shades down over the small window on the door, but decides against it. Then Sasuke would feel trapped, boxed in.

It makes his head spin, sometimes, how much he notices and calculates. But that’s the life of a spy, isn’t it? And Kabuto was the best. 

[vermilioncross]

  There’s more to Kabuto than looks would suggest. Not that Sasuke thinks he’s weak. He’s an average build, lanky but muscled, and his eyes have a look that say he isn’t the type to be prone to mercy. A man who would sooner slit a man’s throat than attempt to stitch it back together if he were bleeding out. So Sasuke isn’t expecting the gentle way Kabuto slings his arm over his shoulder and supports all of his dead weight with ease. It’s the kindness of the gesture that shocks him.

“Come on.” The medic-nin steers Sasuke into an open room, someone managing to balance the weight of an extra man and turn the doorknob all at once.

Do you do this a lot? He means to say the words aloud, but his lips tremble around the letters and comes out as a series of shaky breaths. If he had the energy to be a bit more melodramatic, Sasuke would start saying prayers. More people die in the whitewashed world of hospital rooms than they do on the field. It was Shisui who told him that.

“Strip off your armour and shirt,” Kabuto commands. “I’m going to need to see those wounds.”

Sasuke nods and reaches up to undo the fastenings of his chestplate. It does up just behind his shoulder and the lacerations on his stomach burn when he stretches that far, but he pushes past the pain just like a true shinobi and unbuckles it quickly enough. His fingers are shaking. Dimly, he realizes that Kabuto has closed the door, but it doesn’t really register as he wraps his fingers around the hem of his shirt and pulls it up over his head, exposing his wounds.

[vermilioncross]

//

Sorry for the week long absence, folks! Work's been a little hectic and I just didn't have a lot of spare time on my hands. I plan on fixing things up on my blog and at least starting replies today though. 

[t-o-k-i-d-o-k-i]

[medicamen-deactivated20150516]

πάθος

[medicamen-deactivated20150516]

Kabuto raises his eyebrows, unfazed. Oh, so the little Uchiha boy wanted to play tough, did he? Sasuke wasn’t too badly injured—they looked like knife wounds from someone unskilled with knives—and Kabuto could easily heal him. Hell, if he was feeling vindictive, he could give him stitches with no anesthetic. Unfortunately for his patients, what Kabuto had said before Sasuke spat at him was about the extent of whatever bedside manner he had. Kabuto steps to the side, moving away from Sasuke’s shove, and watches him as he walks toward the ER’s front desk.

Sasuke was tipping forward. He was going to fall. Kabuto is close enough to reach him, but doesn’t. He lets Sasuke fall to the ground, smirking at the soft thud his body makes when it hits the floor. Kabuto walks over to Sasuke and leans over him, hands on his hips. “You don’t have to be a little shit about it,” Kabuto says, and kneels down. He doesn’t offer Sasuke a hand.

Uchiha Sasuke… another prodigy, another brooding asshole. Not that Kabuto wasn’t a brooding asshole himself; it takes one to know one, clearly (as Kakashi had said, that was why they’d be so good together) but it also wasn’t like he was going to suddenly be buddy-buddy with someone who insulted him and shoved him aside. And yet…

And yet Kabuto recognized that look in Sasuke’s eyes.

It said fuck it, it said I’m done. He’d probably just returned from an ANBU mission—no, idiot, of course he had: he was in ANBU dress. Once Kabuto had gotten out of ROOT, he’d never looked back. The same went for ANBU, except in some special cases when he was asked to take on a mission. You never really retire from anything when you were a shinobi.

He didn’t feel empathy or commiseration for Sasuke at all. And yet… that look. He’d seen it in Kakashi’s eyes only once (the man was almost as guarded as Kabuto)—it had bothered him then, and it was bothering him now. With a sigh, Kabuto finally holds out a hand to Sasuke. It was better for his professional image to help patients instead of make fun of them, after all. “Well? Are you going to bleed on the floor all day?”

[vermilioncross]

Sasuke expects the man to catch him. He’s a nurse, after all—at least the pale green scrubs seem to imply that he is—and it isn’t good practice to let patients injure themselves whilst in the hospital. No one moves to help him though. He wobbles dangerously, throwing a hand out towards a wall that’s too far away to reach, and falls to the ground like a willow tree in a storm. 

The impact doesn’t register. Two days of steady “hunting” have left Sasuke exhausted right down to the bones. He squeezes his eyes tight against the bright ceiling lights and briefly considers letting himself fall into the darkness that keeps trying to tug him down into its depths. So soft, so gentle, so soothing. 

It would serve this dick right if Sasuke passed out right then and there. The fact that he doesn’t know if this stranger can be trusted is the only thing that makes him open his eyes again. 

The man is hovering over him, hands on hips, exasperation painted all over his face. 

Guilt twists Sasuke’s stomach, and then the doctor speaks: “You don’t have to be a little shit about it.” 

You’re an asshole. The words lack the heat required to make them an insult. Sasuke doesn’t have the energy for being rude right now. He doesn’t even have the energy to get himself off the floor. He tries, planting one hand firmly on the tiles and trying to heave himself to his feet, but the world just begins to spin again. 

“Well? Are you going to bleed on the floor all day?” Despite his words, the man holds out a hand, silver eyebrow raising in challenge. 

Sasuke doesn’t hesitate. He hates accepting help, but he hates being vulnerable way more. Clumsy fingers wrap around the doctor’s wrist. “Just get me to an emergency room or something.” 

[naruto-konohagakure-deactivated]

[thelordofsharingan]

Uchiha Sasuke

[sasukeuchiha-eternalmangekyou]

[vermilioncross]

Journeying into a New World

[sylvannymphe-blog]

Kayla did not expect to be addressed. That was not on her current agenda. He hadn’t acknowledged her earlier when his brother had sat her in front of him, and now he chose to do so? She had no idea what to say, her mouth opening and then closing with no words coming out in between.

Said doll did, in fact, have a name. It was simply Rin, like her name, but how was she supposed to explain that without interrupting her mommy and Itachi? She blinked, once, twice, and then three times, and finally managed to answer the dark-haired boy. “H-Her name is Rin." She hugged the doll tighter, discarding the brush beside her.

And then she realized that the conversation had stopped, and that both adults were watching she and Sasuke. She wanted to hide but knew she couldn’t, so instead she put Rin to the side, in the nearest chair, and wobbled to her feet, trying not to pull her own hair in the process of getting her feet on the floor. 

She noticed immediately that the boy probably had six inches to a foot of height on her. This made her scowl, as a ten year old is prone to do. They were across the room from each other and she could already tell he had the advantage. Still, her curiosity having the better of her and with the idea of listening to the adults talk already boring her in the back of her head, she found her courage and moved forward. 

“‘Kaa-san, can me and Sasuke-san go down to the beach?" She hardly even glanced at her mother, eyes trained on the boy in front of her and concentrating on not falling down. The girl was notoriously clumsy,

She didn’t know if Sasuke had seen the beach before, but she figured anywhere was better than in here. She made it across the room and the rug without falling on her face, much to her elation, and found herself at the taller boy’s side. She listened for her mother’s approval, and then she didn’t hesitate. Feet that were carefully picking their way across the room a moment ago now raced toward the hallway, not waiting to hear if the boy was following. She forgot to excuse herself in her haste, and felt a pang of regret instantaneously. 

Skidding to a stop in the doorway, she flailed her arms to catch her balance and latched onto the doorway, turning to look behind her.

"Well? Come on! Aren’tcha gonna come, Sasuke-san? You can put your stuff in my room, if you want!"

All shyness forgotten as the prospect of playing in the waves brightened her mood, she practically bounced in her place. Boy, was poor Sasuke in for it now. Shy Kayla was gone and in her place was the ball of energy known for exhausting brothers and dads and keeping moms up till all hours of the night.

[vermilioncross]

Sasuke blinks back at the girl, uncertain he's heard her correctly. Did she intentionally name the doll after herself? They have the same jet black hair and her outfit almost looks like an exact replica of the dolls--lace and frills and skirts that seem to billow and fall everywhere. He's willing to bet that their eyes will match as well, but he doesn't get a chance to verify that this fact because as soon as he asks that question Rinako presses the doll's face into her chest as if she thinks Sasuke might snatch it away. He shakes his head sharply. Like he'd want her stupid toy. 

Rinako scowls at him as if she's read his thoughts and gets to her feet. Sasuke tilts his head, a beginnings of interest shining in his eyes. He doesn't think this girl is a fighter. Her mother certainly isn't one. Are they a family like Haruno Sakura's perhaps? It isn't common for ordinary citizens to have shinobi children, but it does happen from time to time. Interest peaked, he studies Rinako, noting the careful way she moves and her seeming distrust of him. 

“‘Kaa-san, can me and Sasuke-san go down to the beach?"

Expect the unexpected. That's the shinobi way. Fugaku is always saying that, always beating into his second son the importance of never being caught off guard, but Sasuke still hasn't grasped the concept that words can land blows as easily as fists. Rinako's question seems to come out of nowhere and Sasuke's expression of cool indifference slips away in favor of bemusement. Wasn't she just glaring at him seconds ago? 

Sasuke turns to Itachi for assurance and quickly regrets it. Itachi has both of his eyebrows raised. For anyone else it wouldn't be a bad thing, but Itachi isn't just anyone. The slightest upturn of his lips can mean endless joy and the tiniest wrinkle by his eye is the promise of a storm. Itachi is subtle, quiet, crafty, and compassionate. He's all the things that Fugaku constantly harps about and that Sasuke usually admires. Except that right now Itachi is doing his equivalent of laughing himself silly over the situation his little brother is in. Sasuke's lips twist in response. 

No matter. He turns his attention back to Rinako. She's moved closer to him while he was preoccupied with the silent conversation with his brother, and the look in her eyes has transformed from distrust into a curiosity that matches his own. He assesses the situation carefully. Even if she is a shinobi he's certain he can handle her. Not because she's a child. Children, Sasuke knows, can be the most dangerous of opponents; no one suspects them until it's too late. No, it's the fact that he's been training non-stop for a year now that gives him confidence. Sasuke graduated top of his class and has been hailed a genius. This girl doesn't look like she's seen a fight in her life. He nods, resolute. 

"That sounds...interesting." 

Sasuke hesitates on his wording. If Itachi wasn't listening, he might have said "fun", but when other Clan members are around he can't let his mask of maturity slip. Despite the fact that he's not even a teenager, he's a ninja and is expected to act like one. Ninja do not play. They don't have fun. Rinako's words have a pull that he can't resist, though. The scent of fresh sea breeze already tickles his nose. Just the promise of sand on his skin has him curling his toes. Maybe just this once. 

Without waiting for further approval, Rinkao races down the hallway. "Well?" she calls. "Aren’tcha gonna come, Sasuke-san?" 

Sasuke blinks in surprise, sharing one last meaningful look with his brother before following after the girl. She doesn't wait for him. He chases after her discomboberated voice, following it through a hallway out down a tiny staircase and into the Sakyū-jō sunshine. The rolling and crashing of the ocean can already be heard, but it must be in the distance because he can't see it. All he sees is the shining waterfall of Rinako's black hair. 

"How far is it?" 

Hitched breath. Pounding footsteps. Neither of them stops; Sasuke doesn't ask a second time. The green grass turns into brownish sand and Rinako tosses off her sandals with a practiced move, twirling in spot: arms out, head tipped back, skirts billowing out like a cloud. A flock of gulls fly overhead, screaming. The waves lap onto the beach. Somewhere deep down Sasuke admits to himself that it really is just as pretty as he imagined it would be. Even more so, actually. 

[t-o-k-i-d-o-k-i]

[vermilioncross]

// Heads up that if you're tagging me in a post the dash has to be left out! 

[medicamen-deactivated20150516]

πάθος

It was nearing the end of Kabuto’s shift, thank goodness. Not that he didn’t love working at the hospital, of course not, but ten hour plus shifts grated on a person. He pushes his bangs out of his eyes and adjusts his glasses (which he could technically not need anymore if he really bothered to take two minutes to fix his eyesight) on his nose, leaning on one of the counters near the front of Konoha’s hospital. He’d finished with the two surgeries he’d had overnight, and now he was on the average shift—to take in whatever stragglers wandered in to the ER instead of going to the front.

After leaving ANBU (more like after dragging himself out of ROOT, while Danzo kicked and screamed), the hospital seemed like the most logical option. Medical ninjutsu had always been Kabuto’s specialty besides spying (he liked to think he was the best spy he knew) and what better place to do it than in a village with many shinobi that were constantly getting roughed up?

Kakashi had left him a note up at the front desk asking about dinner the next night. Kabuto had initially ignored it, but, yawning, pulls the piece of paper out of his pocket for lack of anything better to do and rereadsKakashi’s scrawl. tomorrow, nine, pick you up. Well, it was tomorrow now, though it was about seven in the morning. Kabuto could probably get in a decent amount of sleep before nine.

The ER doors open—Kabuto isn’t sure whether to rejoice or roll his eyes—and in walks Uchiha Sasuke, covered in blood. Kabuto blinks, staring. “Hello?" Kabuto says. Sasuke looks lost. He’s holding his hands out in front of himself numbly, blood dripping from them. This is odd, it’s not like what Kabuto knows of the boy at all. 

"Sasuke," Kabuto says, walking towards him and keeping his body language relaxed and neutral. “Are you alright? Come with me, I’ll take care of those injuries."

[vermilioncross]

It’s been a long night. The blood caked on Sasuke’s hands (not all of which is his) and the wound on his stomach bear testimony to this. He presses down on the laceration and let’s out a hiss through clenched teeth. Fucking damn that burns. Did that blade have poison on it? It’s doubtful as his target wasn’t a shinobi and he attacked her in her own kitchen, causing her to use a steak knife in self-defense, but the slight suspicion in the back of his mind drives him towards the hospital as soon as he re-enters the village.

He doesn’t see too many people on his way there. Years of ANBU training have taught Sasuke to be a shadow amongst his own people, and those who do catch a glimpse of him stay far away. It’s well known by now that he’s not the type to pick a fight with. Konoha’s rising red star. Those who look into his eyes never live to do it twice.

Sasuke’s stomach churns uneasily. If he had friends, he might spare a thought as to what they might think of him right now, but he has no one. Itachi and Shisui have long since left the village on their own missions, and Kayla has long since learnt that asking any questions about his life outside of their summer vacations will get her nowhere.

Brooding again, are we?

That little voice in the back of his head carries more scorn than both his father and Itachi could ever manage. It bites into him, leaves marks where no one else can see. Ever since gaining his ninja status Sasuke has become his own worst enemy.

As he ascends the steps of the hospital, he shoves his treacherous thoughts aside and concentrates on how to open the doors without using his hands. Six years of shinobi-hood, four of which were dedicated to specialized training, and he still tried to block her knife by grabbing at it. Luckily it’s a push door. He shoulders it open and walks into the waiting room with his hands held out.

“Sasuke.” The use of his name makes his head snap up, and he studies the speaker with a mix of confusion and curiosity. Silver hair. Glasses. He looks familiar, but Sasuke can’t for the life of him remember from where. Not that it matters. People don’t go the hospital to make friends. “Are you alright? Come with me, I’ll take care of those injuries."

He rolls his eyes at the question, face twisted in a pained scowl. “Is your particular brand of stupid contagious? I just walked into a hospital. Of course I’m not alright.”

Without another word, he shoves the silver-haired man aside and strides towards the front desk. They have to have better people on staff than that imbecile. Despite his conviction, however, world starts to tip and he reaches out, looking for something to latch onto.

[lilfluffy-bro-deactivated201709]

[nardo-pls]

[vermilioncross]

// Look at that young face. Look at it. All scowling and scrunch nosed and wrath filled and crazy eyed and so fucking young. 

[vermilioncross]

Journeying into a New World

[sylvannymphe-blog]

As the Uchiha seemed to turn his attention from her, she relaxed. She also turned to look at Itachi, anticipating an explanation from the teenager.

The eldest Uchiha present turned to look at her mother, who still standing there watching them, wringing her hands with an expression that let you see her inner thoughts. She was still unable to get past how cute they were. She seemed to be shaken out of it when Itachi asked politely, “Yukiko, would it be alright if we came inside?"

Her mother, being the beautiful and polite woman she was, immediately switched into hostess mode. Most of the time, this would have Kayla groaning out loud.  Her mother had a terrible habit of dressing her daughter up like a doll for their guests and having her help serve food and refreshments. Instead of that,  Itachi was ushered in and the two children were left to follow. She scrambled after them, not wanting to be left alone with the young boy.

Itachi followed her mother to the living room after discarding his shoes and observing the proper formalities. She watched him watch his own brother like a hawk, making sure he did the same. It seemed that he was very strict on his brother. It was a bit like he would expect her to be had she not already been a good child in the first place. Kayla always obediently observed each formality like a princess, taught her mannerisms at an early age. She was sure that Sasuke knew his as well. She had caught on, in Itachi’s stories of him, that Sasuke-kun was a defiant child and very headstrong.

Kayla immediately blushed as she followed them into the living area, seeing her dolls in a disarray. (In all actuality, they were neatly put in positions as if they were having tea or doing other household tasks). Without a word from her mother, she began scooping them up and putting them back in her elaborately painted toy chest, smoothing their dresses and hair carefully. She only kept one out. It was nearly as big as her, and it looked like someone had turned her into a doll. It had been a gift from Itachi last summer, and it was her favorite doll.

She waited, listening for Sasuke to take a seat, wondering what he would do. When she finished cleaning up her mess, she sat on the rug in a neat pile of skirts. She didn’t speak and instead waited. She was taught that she was to sit and be quiet unless addressed. Brushing her doll’s hair, she watched Itachi, (and his brother, by extension) with curious eyes.

[vermilioncross]

Yukiko ushers them inside—all smiles—but Sasuke doesn't miss the warning glance Itachi shoots him. Behave, it seems to say. He juts out his lower lip in response and scowls, displeased with being scolded when he hasn't done anything. All he did was make Yukiko laugh. That's not a bad thing. Why does Itachi have to be so uptight all the time? It's obvious that whatever they're doing here is just going to be another round of stifling politeness, so he scuffs the toe of his sandal on the wet ground and lollygags, dragging out his last few moments of freedom. 

When he can't possibly wait any longer outside without Itachi coming out to forcefully drag him inside, Sasuke walks up the steps and heaves one final sigh of frustration before going inside. Their house smells like freshly cut flowers and sea breeze. He scrunches his nose, unsure if he likes it or not. Like so much of what he's experienced in this village, it's very different than what he's used to. Itachi gives him another reprimanding look and Sasuke rolls his eyes in return.

You're wearing Father's face again, he wants to say. Itachi seems to be doing that a lot these days. Maybe it's their destiny to end up like Fugaku. He shakes his head at the thought, not wanting to examine it too closely. Their father isn't what Sasuke considers a nice person. 

He slips shoes off and arranges them neatly before wandering inside. The first thing he notices is the walls. They're white just like the ones at his own house, but whereas Mikoto adorns her walls with photos of the family these people have painted vines on theirs. Sasuke traces them with his eyes, hand hovering over the dark green paint, wanting too touch but knowing that he probably shouldn't. Once he realizes what he's doing he clears his throat awkwardly. 

"Pretty."

Immediately after he says it Sasuke kicks himself for choosing such a girly word. If Uncle Shisui were here right now he would never hear the end of it. Sasuke's heart gives a tight squeeze at that thought. It's been over a year since Shisui left for his mission and news of him is getting scarcer by the day. Itachi says that's how war works; Sasuke says he doesn't care. Logic doesn't make him feel any better. Luckily, Yukiko just gives him a smile and murmurs a gentle "thank-you". 

It's only after this exchange that Sasuke notices Rinako. She's sitting on a rug, looking as neat and prim as can be, but the dolly clutched to her chest ruins the effect. He wonders how old she is. Seven? Eight? Maybe younger, if her toy is any indication. It's been years since Sasuke played with anything. Kunai and scrolls have long since replaced teddy bears and shiny toy trucks in his world. Big blue eyes watch him curiously, and he inclines his head in her direction. 

"Hello," his voice is as mild and friendly he can make it. "Does, um, your doll have a name?" 

He's grasping at straws here, desperately searching for something to say, but he's almost certain that little kids like to name their favourite toys. Itachi gave him a stuffed sheep when he was about three or four and it had a name. Sasuke doesn't quite remember it anymore beyond the fact that it started with an "m", but he does recall whispering all his secrets into its chewed ears and pretending it was a friend. Rinako probably does the same thing with this doll.

[theshelvedsannin]

Bookshelves and Buried Secrets

With a weary sigh, Orochimaru rose from his desk. It had been another lifeless day within the dingy walls of Konoha’s library, not that he hadn’t grown accustomed to them by now. At first the Sannin had found an odd sort of comfort in the quiet monotony. It was peaceful at least, and the long days of solitude meant less need to worry about prying villagers who might take rather too keen an interest in his personal affairs. But he was hardly a fan of his own company these days, and by now had come to realize that the prolonged silence could drive even him to distraction.

Wandering over to the far side of the library, Orochimaru ran a slender finger along the ageing spines of what appeared to be a section dedicated to the theory of chakra control. His hand hovered there for a moment, then plucked an old leather bound book from the shelf, coughing as he brushed away a thick layer of dust. It must have been years since any of these books had been used. In fact, he was beginning to wonder how he’d kept this job for so long. Konoha was hardly in need of a full-time librarian. Youngsters these days just didn’t seem to have the time (let alone the inclination) to pick up a book, and even young shinobi in training would rely solely on academy tuition rather than fritter away their evenings on extracurricular reading. His brow furrowed. It was out of pity, he supposed. The village had been devastated to lose one of their most prized shinobi to a battle wound, and even before his miraculous ‘recovery’ had often spoken of their wish to see him back in the line of duty.

He sensed by now that they knew of his reluctance to return to the battlefield, though anyone with a shred of decency knew better than to speak of it directly. But the Sannin was nothing if not observant. He was all too aware of their questioning glances, the whispers when he left a room, that revolting look of pity in the eyes of his fellow shinobi. Not that he could blame them of course. In the three years since his injury he had hardly shown willing to resume his shinobi career.

The weakness in his right leg was still real enough to act as a feasible excuse, or at least it would have been had he not… No. He couldn’t think about that now. It was far easier to keep up this façade if he convinced himself of the lie others were forced to believe, and thought about that as little as possible.

Still, there were times when he would forget. Times he would ascend a flight of stairs just a little too quickly, or walk down the street without the slight limp he had so rigorously ingrained into his subconscious. The opposite was also true. More often than not he’d find himself hobbling around is own apartment, only to tut half-heartedly upon realising his own foolishness. It was ridiculous, of course. The injury hadn’t truly affected him in two years now, and yet as far as the villagers knew it plagued him more than ever. Every shinobi is taught how to maintain a false identity, and Orochimaru was no exception. He would keep this up, forever if he had to.

Swallowing roughly, the Sannin returned his attention to tattered book in his hand. The whole library was in dire need of dusting. This was his job after all, and he had dwelt on his thoughts far too long for one day.  

[vermilioncross]

Sasuke's not what anyone would call "bookish". He pursues a good book from time to time--mostly at Itachi's behest--but he never goes looking for something to read on his own accord. Books are something to do when he gets bored, when his parents ground him or Itachi leaves on long missions and he has no one to talk to. So it might be viewed as a little strange when Sasuke shows up at the Konohagakure Library in the middle of a beautiful summer day, but there's no one to really judge. All the other children are probably busy training or playing, and it doesn't seem like it's a hot spot for the village adults either. Sasuke looks down the street both ways just to be sure he isn't being watched before slumping in a undignified heap on the stone steps. 

He made it from the compound into the village, but not without a price. His hands and knees are scraped and bloody from his rooftop adventures, and one of his pant legs is actually torn. Sasuke plays with the stray bits of fabric around the hole and frowns. Mikoto won't be pleased when she sees this. He might not have been invited to the Clan meeting, but she had still dressed him up in his best outfit for the dinner later that evening. On top of that problem, his chakra levels are running low. He didn't have much energy to start with, only being an Academy student with no real experience in needing stamina, and he feels bone tired. 

What would Itachi do in a situation like this? Sasuke racks his brains, trying to remember all the advice his brother would give him whenever they trained together. Always wear the proper gear. Don't handle weapons you don't know how to use. Cold water gets blood stains out. Always double-check that there's a decent supply of water in your knapsack. He runs a hand through his hair in frustration, slicking it back with the sweat that's dribbling down his forehead. None of that stuff matters right now. Whatever it is, Sasuke wasn't listening when he heard it. He makes a mental note to pay more attention to his brother's advice next time. 

Next time won't be good enough if he passes out on the steps though. Maybe there's a shinobi inside who'll know what to do. Clambering to his feet, Sasuke pushes the door to the library open and steps inside. A wave of silence immediately overtakes him. The air smells stale and dusty. 

"Hello?" he calls out. "Is anybody here?"