Title: Think
Author: Dorku no Renkinjutsushi
Rating: PG-13
Fandom/Pairing: Naruto, TemariIno
Disclaimer: Naruto is not my property. I'm just letting the girls out for a lark.
Warnings: Yuri. Suggestions of child abuse.
Summary: Oh gods, she thinks.
Temari's afraid of the dark. It's a fear that's been a long time coming, evolving and changing year by year as she's grown up. First, there were the fears of losing Mommy. Then the fears for Kankurou. Then the fears of Gaara. The fears gather around her bed every night, a flock of ghosts that refuse to leave. Temari thrashes and turns in her bed, bedclothes wrapping around her tan skin like chains.
(Ino's breasts are soft beneath her hands. Too soft, she thinks.)
Temari's afraid of the alleys. When she was little, her father warned her never to go down them alone. Her mother warned her never to go down them at all, because horrible things happen to little girls who go down alleyways. But Temari's first mission as a spy included alleyways and men, and that did more to scare her away than her parents' warnings. At night, thrashing in bed, Temari dreams of alleyways like prison cells.
(The bricks against her skin are harsh and sharp. Reality, she thinks.)
Temari's afraid of men. She has been afraid of them ever since she was five and one of her father's bodyguards dragged her down the hall to punish her for misbehaving. While her father's men were stronger than her, Temari was the model of perfect behavior. She only started acting out the day she reached forward and killed a man, disjointing his nose and then ramming the cartilage through his brain. Men haunt her nights, though, strong, flat bodies crushing hers between them, teasing at the places that are hers.
(Ino's hair is a whisper against her shoulders. Pleasure, she thinks.)
Temari's afraid of metal. She's felt its sharp sting far too frequently, from the day her ears were first pierced to the day she willingly submitted to letting her spy-handler pierce her nipples. She's felt the icy burn of knives dancing across her skin much too frequently to actually enjoy it, and that alone sets her apart from most of the spy-nin. Her training as a weapon is a liability in this game, and she knows it. Knives dance along her skin, burning like hell and freezing like ice as she dreams.
(Ino's lips are warm beneath hers. Oh gods, she thinks.)
Most of all, Temari's afraid of herself. She's afraid of the strength that lies at her very fingertips, enough to slay a million men. She's afraid of the emotionless mask she's so effortlessly created and warn, hiding herself from the world at large. She's afraid of her loyalty to her village, her family, and her teammates. She's afraid of her own damn emotions, weaknesses that are dangerous in a shinobi-tool as perfectly crafted as she is.
(Ino's dying gasp is a tickle of butterfly wings against her cheek. What a waste, she thinks.)
(She was beautiful, and definitely caught her attentions. It's a pity she had to die, she thinks.)