[Fic] Ways to Kill the Dying
May. 5th, 2011 12:19 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
suchacharmerWay to Kill the Dying: Unfortunately, the living are sometimes prone to dying.
Category: Drabbles
Status: Complete
Rating: PG
Notes: This is a collection of vignettes that vaguely connect to form a story of loss.
***
Come on, we all know I’m not Kishimoto, don’t we?
Eighty-Eight
Five years ago, there were eighty-eight students between Iruka’s three classes. He didn't remember all of their names now. So many students passed in and out of his possession that he couldn’twouldn’tdidn’t make any attempts to remember after they graduated. Some stuck, some didn’t. That was the way of things.
Two days ago, he remembered one abruptly. He caught the name on a KIA report passed from Aoba to Genma and all of a sudden remembered the ruddy-haired Chido that sat near the back, close to the window. A daydreamer eager, perhaps, for lunch break.
His abrupt flash of memory led him down to the log registrar, where every shinobi to pass through the Academy was kept on record. Name, birth date, death date. He went down with the registry list from the graduating class with eighty-eight kids in it and meticulously searched the logs until he found each and every single one of them.
Four lost to drowning. Thirteen to exploding tags. Eight to kunai. Five to poison. Twelve to shuriken. Eighteen to jutsu. Three to themselves.
More than half dead. It made Iruka consider early retirement.
Precipice
When Naruto was a kid, he wanted nothing more than to fly.
Before he dreamed of becoming Hokage and before he had dreams about Sasuke and Akatsuki bastards, he would have given anything to wake up on morning and discover he had wings.
It wasn’t even about his destination. There were plenty of natural wonders in the world that probably looked spectacular from the air, but Naruto had an imagination for that.
No, it wasn’t about that. It was about once, just once, jumping without falling.
On odd mornings when the sky is clear and the sun is out and streaming through the window that he keeps forgetting to clean, Naruto can’t help but remember that he can’t fly. Subsequently, he wonders when the hell he’s going to grow-up.
Origami
Kurenai knew Hinata was a shy girl the moment she saw her. She recognized the slump in her posture, the way she seemed to curl into herself effortlessly. She had no idea how beautiful she would become one day.
But, no matter how shy Hinata was, she had a heart like none Kurenai had ever seen before. She was effortlessly kind. No matter how beautiful she became over the years, Kurenai had the sneaking suspicion that she had drawn Kiba in before that, when she told him how much she liked his dog. Hinata never seemed to notice. Or, if she had, never made a sound. Hinata was not good with words.
Two days after Hidan took Asuma away from her, she woke up bleary-eyed to the sight of seven paper cranes on her window sill in shades of purple.
Intrigued more than words could express, Kurenai picked up one of the little cranes by the wing, dangled it between her fingers.
At the same time, she placed a hand over her stomach, the one that wanted to crumple the crane into dust, and wondered what exactly it was about dark-haired girls with big eyes.
Bleach
The stitches broke while Raido was bending over to take something out of the fridge. Genma told him to sit down and let him take care of dinner, but all Raido had done was declare that he’d had more than his fair share of sitting over the past four days. The logic had worked until Genma noticed the blood blooming across the white t-shirt he wore.
It had happened before. Genma had done it too. Sitting still for that long nearly killed him every time. He dutifully took Raido to the hospital, let Skaura-chan re-stitch his wound, took him home, and put him to bed with a cross-word puzzle.
Back in the kitchen, he took the bleach out from under the sink and poured some over the stain on Raido’s favorite knock-around shirt. He watched the chemicals in the bleach eat through the blood. It would have been simpler to throw it out, but he preferred to watch the stain disappear, like going backwards in time.
Maybe, if he watched long enough, it would be like it had never happened at all.
Miracle
Ino has never seen anything like this.
As a ninja, she’s always known that miracles are born of blood more than pretty words and happy accidents, but this, her screams, she’s never envisioned pain so bad that you just had to scream your lungs out until your throat constricts from the raw burn of it.
Kurenai has her hand in a vice so tight it suffocating. It’s her left hand that suffers because Kurenai’s left hand has Kiba’s right hand in the same kind of death lock as she screams and cries and clutches the bulge of her stomach so tight Ino’s afraid she’ll crush the baby. The right one is free to stroke in a comfort she can’t give as Sakura coaxes and cajoles, the sound vaguely like a purr so out of place she could slap her for it.
Through the haze of this bloody little miracle of life, Ino locks eyes with Shikamaru, the quiet man in the corner who came on a promise that smells of that bittersweet and horribly familiar cigarette smoke when he kisses her, and feels the sweat drip off her brow from the apocalyptic tension ready to snap in this tiny hospital room where a baby who will never know his father is about to be born. And Kurenai screams and Kiba grimaces and Ino swears she’s going to vomit because Oh Kami, oh fuck no, Shikamaru, no, she doesn’t want a baby if it could end like this.
Dancing
Neji knows how to dance.
Every traditional dance under the sun is included in Neji’s repertoire. He remembers having dance lessons as young as six and has a feeling that they started before that.
Neji hates dancing-because when the Hyuuga clan throws a soiree to boast their failing political clout, Neji does exactly what’s expected of him. He finds the prettiest girls without partners and offers them his arm for a dance. Over and over again, so that no one is left out. That won’t do at all.
There are plenty of things that won’t do in the mighty Hyuuga clan. Things that just aren’t traditional. Like asking Kankuro to dance. That won’t do at all.
Neji hates dancing because he keeps finding it harder and harder to smile like he’s interested.
He doesn’t bother in his spare time.
Category: Drabbles
Status: Complete
Rating: PG
Notes: This is a collection of vignettes that vaguely connect to form a story of loss.
***
Come on, we all know I’m not Kishimoto, don’t we?
Eighty-Eight
Five years ago, there were eighty-eight students between Iruka’s three classes. He didn't remember all of their names now. So many students passed in and out of his possession that he couldn’twouldn’tdidn’t make any attempts to remember after they graduated. Some stuck, some didn’t. That was the way of things.
Two days ago, he remembered one abruptly. He caught the name on a KIA report passed from Aoba to Genma and all of a sudden remembered the ruddy-haired Chido that sat near the back, close to the window. A daydreamer eager, perhaps, for lunch break.
His abrupt flash of memory led him down to the log registrar, where every shinobi to pass through the Academy was kept on record. Name, birth date, death date. He went down with the registry list from the graduating class with eighty-eight kids in it and meticulously searched the logs until he found each and every single one of them.
Four lost to drowning. Thirteen to exploding tags. Eight to kunai. Five to poison. Twelve to shuriken. Eighteen to jutsu. Three to themselves.
More than half dead. It made Iruka consider early retirement.
Precipice
When Naruto was a kid, he wanted nothing more than to fly.
Before he dreamed of becoming Hokage and before he had dreams about Sasuke and Akatsuki bastards, he would have given anything to wake up on morning and discover he had wings.
It wasn’t even about his destination. There were plenty of natural wonders in the world that probably looked spectacular from the air, but Naruto had an imagination for that.
No, it wasn’t about that. It was about once, just once, jumping without falling.
On odd mornings when the sky is clear and the sun is out and streaming through the window that he keeps forgetting to clean, Naruto can’t help but remember that he can’t fly. Subsequently, he wonders when the hell he’s going to grow-up.
Origami
Kurenai knew Hinata was a shy girl the moment she saw her. She recognized the slump in her posture, the way she seemed to curl into herself effortlessly. She had no idea how beautiful she would become one day.
But, no matter how shy Hinata was, she had a heart like none Kurenai had ever seen before. She was effortlessly kind. No matter how beautiful she became over the years, Kurenai had the sneaking suspicion that she had drawn Kiba in before that, when she told him how much she liked his dog. Hinata never seemed to notice. Or, if she had, never made a sound. Hinata was not good with words.
Two days after Hidan took Asuma away from her, she woke up bleary-eyed to the sight of seven paper cranes on her window sill in shades of purple.
Intrigued more than words could express, Kurenai picked up one of the little cranes by the wing, dangled it between her fingers.
At the same time, she placed a hand over her stomach, the one that wanted to crumple the crane into dust, and wondered what exactly it was about dark-haired girls with big eyes.
Bleach
The stitches broke while Raido was bending over to take something out of the fridge. Genma told him to sit down and let him take care of dinner, but all Raido had done was declare that he’d had more than his fair share of sitting over the past four days. The logic had worked until Genma noticed the blood blooming across the white t-shirt he wore.
It had happened before. Genma had done it too. Sitting still for that long nearly killed him every time. He dutifully took Raido to the hospital, let Skaura-chan re-stitch his wound, took him home, and put him to bed with a cross-word puzzle.
Back in the kitchen, he took the bleach out from under the sink and poured some over the stain on Raido’s favorite knock-around shirt. He watched the chemicals in the bleach eat through the blood. It would have been simpler to throw it out, but he preferred to watch the stain disappear, like going backwards in time.
Maybe, if he watched long enough, it would be like it had never happened at all.
Miracle
Ino has never seen anything like this.
As a ninja, she’s always known that miracles are born of blood more than pretty words and happy accidents, but this, her screams, she’s never envisioned pain so bad that you just had to scream your lungs out until your throat constricts from the raw burn of it.
Kurenai has her hand in a vice so tight it suffocating. It’s her left hand that suffers because Kurenai’s left hand has Kiba’s right hand in the same kind of death lock as she screams and cries and clutches the bulge of her stomach so tight Ino’s afraid she’ll crush the baby. The right one is free to stroke in a comfort she can’t give as Sakura coaxes and cajoles, the sound vaguely like a purr so out of place she could slap her for it.
Through the haze of this bloody little miracle of life, Ino locks eyes with Shikamaru, the quiet man in the corner who came on a promise that smells of that bittersweet and horribly familiar cigarette smoke when he kisses her, and feels the sweat drip off her brow from the apocalyptic tension ready to snap in this tiny hospital room where a baby who will never know his father is about to be born. And Kurenai screams and Kiba grimaces and Ino swears she’s going to vomit because Oh Kami, oh fuck no, Shikamaru, no, she doesn’t want a baby if it could end like this.
Dancing
Neji knows how to dance.
Every traditional dance under the sun is included in Neji’s repertoire. He remembers having dance lessons as young as six and has a feeling that they started before that.
Neji hates dancing-because when the Hyuuga clan throws a soiree to boast their failing political clout, Neji does exactly what’s expected of him. He finds the prettiest girls without partners and offers them his arm for a dance. Over and over again, so that no one is left out. That won’t do at all.
There are plenty of things that won’t do in the mighty Hyuuga clan. Things that just aren’t traditional. Like asking Kankuro to dance. That won’t do at all.
Neji hates dancing because he keeps finding it harder and harder to smile like he’s interested.
He doesn’t bother in his spare time.
