4 A.M. drabble. 274 words. House is too full to sleep. ... Not sure where I thought I was going with this. Could be anyone. Could be anything - het or yuri. Use your imaginations until I can figure it out, myself. xD; Suggestions always welcome.
... Is it just me or do I really like gore?
A banana.
The last of my food.
A banana. And whatever water could be found in dirty little creeks.
I could make it last a week.
Because that's what ninjas do. We cope. We survive. We. Are. Bad. Ass.
And that's a load of horse shit.
I love what I do. I have what my mother calls a masculine drive. I need to be useful in a physical and honorable way. I need to be different, unique, above the quintessential meek housewife that my parents always thought I should have been.
But that doesn't mean I like this - fighting thousands of deformed, lumpy white freaks who're trying to tear apart this fragile little working system the ninja villages have in the mud and gore of my fallen comrades. I know very few details about the why of this war. It's not my job to know everything - just go wherever I'm told. I don't mind. I have a strong personality, but I know I'm a follower. All I need to know is that this monstrous army is trying to attack my village, and my Kage ordered me to follow my new commander general into war.
I'm a ninja. I'm a tool of my village. We don't have long life expectancies. I will probably die today.
Without ever getting the chance to be girly, for once, and confess my affection to you. I might be missing my whole lower jaw at sunset, just another part of the scattered organs and limbs. You might not think of me until you're going through corpses, sorting out the Iwa from the Suna or the Konoha.
That… sucks.