Just wanted to say I have not forgotten about my other story Gaining Limit. My computer quit working and I was so upset cuz I lost about 700 words I HAD to take a brake. But don't worry I will finish it. The only thing I have left to do on chapter four is editing. But every time I start I get frustrated cuz it was so much better before. -gurr- Ultimately deciding it was best to set Gaining Limits aside for a bit, I wrote three (therapeutic) stories. Here is the start of one. Hope you enjoy.
Customary Disclaimer: I do not own Kakashi or Iruka... yet. I am getting closer. I almost caught Iruka yesterday, but it was just a shadow clone. -sigh-
Sereni-Tea
"I wont be coming back"
The bitter vow had followed him once more into his dreams. Leaving the worn and frayed teacher to spring from unrest and gasp into the lonely dark.
Steadying himself the shinobi rose from his restless bed-prison and set about making late night tea. A habit that had now almost become compulsory.
Mechanically the small kettle was filled, set on the stove and the restless sensei puled out an old wooded box.
The teacher loved tea. He had tasted and savored many eclectic verities from around the world. Most in his more exotic collection were gifts from a long lost shinobi. Despite the close connection between painful memories of loss and the tea; the sensei couldn't lose his love for both. The more he missed the silver haired shinobi the more he found himself drawn to a cup of tea.
He reveled in the warmth it gave his hands.
Holding a cup of tea was as close as he was ever going to get to holding the hands of his lover. This is all he had left.
"I love you..."
There was no kiss that night.
"... and goodbye."
Only cold moon light and simple farewells.
And he was gone.
Swallowed by shadow and duty.
A vigorous shriek crescendoed in mocked anguish and the sensei responded by numbly pouring the hot water into a small dark cup. After selecting a rare tea from the box the teacher cupped the ceramic dish allowing the liquid to warm him from outside in. He loved how it seeped into him. Almost scalding his palms but more importantly filling his chilled muscles and bones with heat. He let it ride up his arms. Whispering comfort through vapor and steam, edging closer to warming his soul. But never quiet reaching.
And so the teacher sat. Drinking in the night but never moving his cup. His calm stoicism freezing what the tea heated.
An hour before he had to be at work, the teacher rose, dumped out the cold tea and prepared for the day.
He took a hot shower. Tho the heat seamed to last longer, it never warmed him like the tea did.
He dressed and gathered his papers, tests and books.
He was just going threw the motions. And he couldn't find it in himself to care.
A gentle knock registered from somewhere in his dazed thoughts. Walking over the teacher slowly answered the door... and promptly crumpled to the ground.
He was not the type to cry, sob and lose control of his emotions. But what else were you suppose to do; when every broken dream and every shattered wish, stood alive and well on your door step?
He felt warm arms wrap around him. Holding him in, holding him together. And for once the cold was gone. Driven off by the source of what gave the tea its warmth.
"I missed you too."
I am so happy you took the time to read my little chapter. Thank you. Now -eagerly rubs hands together- what do you think? Comments are very much appreciated.
