In These Bodies We Will Die.
Chapter One.
Sealed Hearts and Saints.
[Seal my heart and break my pride]
Hyuuga Harumi sat primly on her cushion, her legs curled up neatly beneath her body as she cradled her cup of tea in her long fingered hands. Her long, black hair was neatly curled and wound up around her head into an intricate pattern, her almond shaped, white eyes were accented with just the barest amount of shadow, and her kimono was immaculate as always.
All this to greet her husband on his return home.
She had been waiting for several hours, knowing only that he would be returning that night. She had finished and refilled her tea cup several times and made a new pot of tea so that it could be hot when he returned, not that he would be having any. She liked it when she was sitting in their home with a steaming cup of tea in her hands when he came in.
The rattle of the door announced his arrival, tired, if the amount of noise he was making was any indication. There was a moment of quiet as he removed his shoes and then the nearly silent sound of his footsteps as he walked into the family room, or what would serve as a family room in any other house. He stopped in the doorway and looked down at her when he appeared.
He was disheveled, long hair usually pulled back in a high ponytail now falling loose, clothes a mess of tears and dirt, blood splatters on his bone white armor, exhaustion etched onto every plane of his handsome face. He gazed at her but it was as if he didn't see her and for a moment she wondered if he even knew she was there. Then he greeted her in his customary detatched monotone.
"Harumi." Almost as an afterthought he added, "Tadaima."
"Okaerinasai," she replied in her culturedly soft voice. "How was your mission?" she asked, as was her custom.
"Fine," he replied as always.
"You were gone longer than expected," she noted as usual.
"We ran into a few problems along the way," he supplied unhelpfully, the same words he always said.
"I am happy you are safe," she lied.
"I am glad to be home." He did the same.
He approached her, bending to take her hand and kiss it while staying far enough away that she would not be contaminated with the filth of battle on his body but she could not escape the smell of blood. From where she sat she could see open wounds on his arms, as if he had been clawed. But he took her hand all the same, brought it to that mouth that she had told herself she loved once. That was all she had ever loved about him, his body. That was all he was good for and that was all she was good for. That was their purpose, to create others like themselves. Their bodies were the extent of the relationship they had with each other.
Of course, their bodies were also what undermined their purpose.
As he turned to go, placing one hand on a small table gently as if he was about to fall over, not that she had ever seen him even sway before, she took a small breath and broke their tradition for once, for the one thing that they both loved, the one thing that was more than their purely physical relationship.
"Hisoka started at the Academy three days ago."
"Yes, I suppose he did," her husband answered absently.
She chided herself. Of course he knew the day the Academy started every year. She did not need to fear saying more because when she turned her head slightly to say something more, he was already gone, as silently as the ghosts that she sometimes feared haunted their house, the ghosts of what love they had before they had been forced together.
[I guess there's gotta be a break in the monotony]
Four years later.
Hyuuga Hisoka was a quiet child by nature. He was mild mannered and polite, always willing to allow others to go before him in line or to get something for someone if they asked. He was a branch Hyuuga and did not wear his hitae-ate on his forehead to hide the mark that he had been given on his second birthday, instead choosing to wear it on arm like he had seen some of the chunin do. He was an average student, neither in the top third of the class nor in the bottom third but rather in the comfortable middle. He passed through his Academy years without much fuss and was the third member of his team to even out his two fiery teammates, third ranked Yamanaka Izo and second to last ranked Mochizuki Naoko. At least, that's what he thought, although he didn't really enjoy his position; namely, sitting between Izo and Naoko as they shouted insults at each other around his body while they waited for their sensei to come pick them up.
They were the very last team to be picked up.
"Dead last," Izo said.
"I'm no' the dead las'," Naoko shouted, her temper already flaring, "Third ra'e!"
"You're as good as dead last, loser!" Izo shot back.
"Moron!"
"Twit!"
"Stupid face!"
"Hag!"
"Princess!"
"Troll!"
"Faerie!"
"Guys," Hisoka said placatingly, holding up his hands when they both turned burning eyes of rage on him, fists half raised. He patted them both on the shoulders. "I think that maybe we should stop fighting. What if sensei comes in and sees us?"
"Too late for that," a voice that was decidedly older than twelve stated. Izo and Naoko immediately shut up and three heads swiveled to the door to see a man leaning there, lighter held up to his face as he lit a cigarette, took a drag, and blew out luxuriously. "As amusing as it is to see the team I'm going to be with for, at the very least, the next six months argue with each other... it's not."
"Nara-sensei?" Izo asked, sounding as if he wanted this slouched, tired sounding man to be anyone but their teacher.
"Yamanaka Izo," the man answered, "Mochizuki Naoko, and Hyuuga Hisoka?" When all three students nodded mutely he sighed, took another drag on his cigarette, muttered something that sounded suspiciously like "troublesome" and waved them over his direction. "We may as well get going. We're not getting any younger."
He turned on his heel and shuffled out of the room. The three newly-graduated students glanced at each other for a moment before hopping off the desks they had been perched on and running after him. He had barely gone four steps before they reached him and they followed his slowly, lazy pace all the way to...
"A barbeque restaurant?" Izo whispered, aghast at the very idea of being seen in such a place of over-eating.
Naoko rolled her eyes and gave him a firm shove between the shoulder blades through the door that their sensei had vanished through just moments before. She followed quickly and Hisoka took a moment to look around and make sure that none of his family was around to see him enter such a disreputable establishment before also making his way swiftly through the doors and joining his new team.
Nara-sensei ordered without looking at the menu and without consulting any of his team. Izo was fidgeting in his seat and trying to avoid touching anything other than the required air and even then making a valiant effort. Naoko sat in the corner near the window and was staring out, already bored. Hisoka tried to keep his head down just in case someone saw him. His mother had always taught him to be very conscious of where and when people saw you, that one's reputation was everything. Never be too much or too little, be just in the middle, normal.
When the food came, Naoko tucked in, Nara-sensei lit another cigarette and ate in the slow manner that was fast becoming familiar to the genin, Izo turned green, and Hisoka tentatively took a piece of meat, hungry despite his trepidation and wanting to get something before Naoko consumed it all.
"So," Nara-sensei said, alternately taking bites of food and inhaling lungfuls of smoke, "Why don't you all tell me a little about yourselves. I've already read your files but I'd like to see if you surprise me."
"We 'ave files?" Naoko asked around a mouthful of meat. Izo would have made a snappy comeback but he was too busy fanning himself with the menu and trying to keep his perfect blonde hair from touching the back of the booth.
"Everyone has a file, Mochizuki," Nara-sensei explained patiently. "Tell me something about you... anything."
Naoko swallowed her mouthful of food and looked thoughtful, an expression curiously out of place on her face. "Well," she began, "Oi live wi' me da and ma and I've got three sisters and five brothers and oi really, really want ta become a chunin so oi can 'elp take care of 'em, ya know?"
"I couldn't understand you around your ridiculous slur," Izo muttered halfheartedly. Hisoka thought that perhaps he wasn't lying.
"Yamanaka, you next," Nara-sensei said before Naoko could say anything else.
"My name is Yamanka Izo," he began.
"Yeah, we got tha' much," Naoko spat as she crammed more food into her already overloaded mouth.
He treated her to his best glare, which she had grown immune to over the years of being in the same class as him, and went on. "I live with my mother and father and I have one older sister who is a jounin and I wish the hitae-ate came in different colors. Blue doesn't go with my wardrobe."
"Princess," Naoko coughed indiscreetly.
"Hyuuga," Nara-sensei said, pointing his cigarette toward Hisoka.
"Oh... well," Hisoka fumbled. "I live with my mother and I don't have any siblings and I just want to be a chunin... I suppose."
Nara frowned deeply as if Hisoka had said something that really, truly bothered him.
"Where's your da?" Naoko asked.
"He doesn't have one, obviously," Izo said, smacking her.
"'Ow do you not 'ave a da?" Naoko asked curiously.
"I – I don't know where my father is, well, I do know but he's just not around ever and so it's like I only live with my mother," Hisoka answered.
"Where's your father all the time?" Izo asked, curious in spite of his critique of Naoko's behavior.
"Missions," Hisoka answered. That was what his mother always told him. Hisoka had only seen his father a handful of times since he entered the Academy. He remembered vaguely that his father had been around when he was younger but all of his memories were fuzzy, of someone tall and strong with a quiet laugh. His mother always insisted that his father was someone average, of no importance, but Hisoka wondered sometimes.
"I think that's enough," Nara-sensei said.
"Tell us about you, Nara-sensei," Izo said.
Nara-sensei sighed and leaned back in the chair, snuffing out his cigarette directly on the table and flicking the butt into the coals of their table grill. "Firstly, I would prefer if you called me Shikamaru-sensei rather than Nara-sensei." When the students nodded he went on. "Secondly, I live by myself but sometimes I visit my mother and father. I don't have any siblings, and I like being a teaching jounin."
"No dreams, Shikamaru-sensei?" Hisoka asked quietly.
Shikamaru raised an eyebrow at the Hyuuga. "I'm past that point in my life. I am where I will say and I like where I am." Hisoka looked away swiftly as if embarrassed to have asked a personal question.
"There's no more food!" Naoko announced as she swiftly snatched up the last bit of meat and stuffed it in her mouth.
"That means it's time to go," Shikamaru said, ushering his students out of the booth and leaving enough money to cover the food, that Naoko had eaten most of, and a tip. "Meet me at training ground three tomorrow morning promptly at seven o'clock and come ready to begin training." Izo groaned.
As the students walked away, going back to their homes, Shikamaru noted their dynamic silently. Naoko and Izo leaned on each other, smacking and hitting each other and arguing but getting along for the most part. It was certainly not the worst rivalry he had ever seen. Hisoka walked slightly off the side, glancing around nervously and every once in a while turning to his teammates as if to suggest that they calm down. The Hyuuga kept his hands at his side, not even moving them while speaking like most people.
Shikamaru felt the need for another cigarette coming on.
[The saints can't help me now]
The door to his apartment was open when he walked up the steps, there was no elevator. He glanced at the smeared blood on the wall, as if someone had grabbed the door frame as they went in and tripped on their way. He nudged the door open gently, snuffing out his cigarette and holding up his hands to show that he had no weapons as he walked into his own home. When he saw that there was no one in the living room he followed the blood drips on the hardwood floor, it had once been carpet but had been stained red so many times that Shikamaru gave in and had it replaced, to the kitchen where he found the intruder sitting on the floor, leaning against the cabinets.
"Tadaima," Shikamaru said quietly as he walked in. The man on the floor jerked his head around, breath quickening the rise and fall of his chest as he paused in pulling on the bandages he was wrapping around his forearm. There was a tense moment when Shikamaru just stood there with his hands in the air and the man just watched him.
"Okaeri," the man finally breathed out. Shikamaru glanced around and saw the grotesque, snarling panther mask lying on the floor beside the man, within easy reach but carelessly left to roll on its side.
Convinced that he wouldn't be disemboweled if he went any closer, Shikamaru stepped into his kitchen and knelt beside the man, checking him over for injuries with his eyes. The man hadn't been in the apartment long, he had only bandaged his forearm and there were dozens of injuries scattered across his torso and arms and a lengthy cut on his leg. His shirt was torn to shreds and would be easier to rip off rather than trying to take it off; his armor lay on the ground, gouged but not pierced.
"Shit," Shikamaru muttered. "You've got to stop doing this to yourself."
"Not now, Shikamaru," the man said tiredly.
"Neji –"
"Not now," he hissed, as much from anger as from the pain of Shikamaru suddenly brushing a finger over an X shaped wound on his bicep.
"Well let's get your shirt off and see what else we have going on. As soon as you're bandaged up we'll get you in bed and you can report to the Hokage tomorrow," he said soothingly.
"I need to report today," Neji murmured as Shikamaru ripped the rest of the thin shirt off with his hands, not daring to use anything that could be considered a weapon around his friend.
"Sh," Shikamaru said as if speaking to a child. "You can do it tomorrow. The Hokage will understand. I assume your mission was successful?" His missions always were. Unsuccessful Anbu missions generally resulted in death.
Neji nodded mutely, leaning his head back against the cabinet. His eyes were half closed and he only barely flinched when Shikamaru started to ease the strips of fabric off his back and began to test the skin around the wounds on his chest.
"There are less injuries than usual," Shikamaru said with forced cheerfulness. His only indication that Neji thought it was was funny was the slightly deeper exhalation of air in his even breathing pattern. "Do you have any on your back?"
"No," Neji answered. If he had been any more awake he would have been offended by that question. No one got behind Hyuuga Neji long enough to wound him.
Shikamaru managed to bandage all of the injuries that he could see, work Neji out of his pants and into a sleeping yukata, tying it around the waist and not bothering to try to get the older man to put his arms into it, it never ended up staying all the way on anyway, and situated him on a futon and left him. Neji watched him until he was out of the room like he always did. It had been years since Neji had fallen asleep while Shikamaru was in the room.
The teaching jounin sighed as he went back to his kitchen and saw the mess that had been made. With an annoyed grunt he went about cleaning up, mopping up blood and throwing torn fabric away and making sure that nothing stained. He knew that Neji would be up in precisely four hours and he would be hungry. Upon finding his fridge bare of anything even remotely edible, he gathered his already bone weary self and walked down to the market to find something.
"Shikamaru!"
And of course the one person he didn't want to see at that moment would find him. He turned to Ino without bothering to make a cheerful face. "What?"
"I heard you got Izo," she said excitedly.
"Yes, Izo," he muttered. "Your cousin is... a tad dramatic."
She just laughed and flicked her hair over her shoulder, settling her basket of goods more firmly on her hip. "He's my second cousin, you know, and he can be. He really is a good kid though, he tries hard."
"When it doesn't involve dirt, mud, grass, germs, breaking nails, or physicality in any form or fashion," Shikamaru answered sarcastically.
She laughed again. "And you have him figured out already."
"Look, Ino," he said, glancing around. "I really need to hurry and get back so I just need to be leaving you and –"
"Back to what?"
He winced. "I have a friend over and I came out to get stuff for dinner."
"Oh?" she said, suddenly intrigued. Shikamaru did not just have friends over. "Who? Do I know him?"
"No," he answered, "You don't know him."
She quirked an eyebrow, unconvinced. He didn't change his answer, instead excusing himself rather ungraciously from her presence and hurrying to gather the rest of his dinner necessities before anyone else saw him and tried to talk to him. Shikamaru generally didn't shop when there was chance someone he knew would be around.
He opened the door quietly and made his way to the kitchen, quickly whipping up dinner and being thoroughly glad that he hadn't completely ignored all those times his mother tried to teach him how to cook. He never made anything for himself but he liked to be able to give Neji something satisfying and nice when he got back from his missions. He glanced at the clock and saw that he had five more minutes before Neji woke up, which meant that he had fifteen more minutes when Neji went to take his ten minute shower and then another five added to that while Neji dressed himself. So twenty minutes before he had to be ready.
Sometimes it was a blessing that Neji acted like a robot.
Exactly twenty minutes later he wasn't surprised when a thin, battle scarred hand reached around him and swiped an onion from one of the plates. Seconds later, out of his peripheral vision, he watched Neji lift himself up onto the counter and sit in the corner between the vertical and horizontal counters, twirling the onion between his fingers.
"Feeling better?" Shikamaru ventured.
Neji treated him with a small smile and Shikamaru immediately relaxed fully. "Much." The Anbu leaned over and glanced down at what Shikamaru was making, nodding his approval and twisting around to get plates and bowls from the cabinets. The teaching jounin didn't bother to ask him if he should be moving his torso that much with his injuries. He had learned long ago that Neji knew the bounds of his body better than anyone even if he did sometimes ignore them completely.
"Hungry?" Shikamaru asked.
"Very."
The short answers were normal. That he was getting any answers at all was a good sign. Sometimes when Neji came back from missions he wouldn't talk for days. Those were the bad missions though, generally ones that involved the loss of teammates; they happened much more often than Shikamaru would have liked.
They sat down to eat in relative silence for several minutes until Shikamaru said, "Hisoka is on my genin team."
Neji's head shot up and for a minute Shikamaru thought he saw genuine fear in those white eyes before the expression was swiftly schooled and the Anbu looked back down. "Is he?" he asked as if he were speaking of whether or not it was raining that day, which it was; it had started shortly after Shikamaru returned from the market.
"Yes. He's very quiet."
"All Hyuugas are quiet," Neji pointed out.
"He said he lived with his mother."
Neji glanced up for a moment longer at that, searching Shikamaru's eyes and resting the ends of his chopsticks on the edge of his bowl for a second. For a moment Shikamaru thought he would say "Is that so?" but he was pleasantly, or not so pleasantly, surprised when Neji answered with, "That's to be expected, I suppose."
"When was the last time you saw him?" Shikamaru asked.
"A year or so ago... or was it two years ago..." Neji trailed off, gazing down into his rice.
"I think he misses you," Shikamaru offered. "He didn't say that he didn't have a father, only that his father wasn't home very often."
"I can't go back now. Harumi made that abundantly clear last time." He sounded a little bitter as he took a slightly more forceful stab at his fish than was necessary.
"If you're going to be back for a while you could come to training with me and the genin," Shikamaru suggested, already knowing the answer he would receive.
"I won't be back for more than a day or two."
Shikamaru laid his chopsticks down, suddenly not hungry. "Have you had a psych evaluation lately?"
"Not in the past few years," Neji answered. "Why?"
The Nara shrugged, feeling anything but nonchalant. "I overheard some of the medic nin talking about it when they brought in some paperwork. Apparently there's going to be a big psych evaluation requirement coming up to update the records of the Anbu members. You should check up on when that is going to be before you take any new missions. I think they said it was going to be soon."
"I'm sure the Hokage will tell me when I report."
The younger nin sighed and glanced out the open sliding door. It was raining very hard at that point, pelting down in sheets. He wanted to be annoyed that the training grounds would be muddy tomorrow but all he could think was that rainstorms tended to make Neji nervous and restless. He didn't sleep well during them. When he glanced over, Neji was twirling the chopsticks between his fingers expertly as if they were a pair of senbon.
"You might want to think about it before then," Shikamaru murmured.
"What was that?" Neji asked, glancing up.
"Eat more."
[Author's Note]
Lyrics come from Mumford & Sons – Dust Bowl Dance, Ok Go – Here It Goes Again, and Florence + The Machine – Howl.
A note on names:
Harumi meaning "govern, beauty" in this case.
Hisoka meaning "secret" also a unisex name.
Izo meaning "ice, iron."
Naoko meaning "obedient" (named so for irony's sake, of course).
Alright, that's out of the way. You can draw your own conclusions for my reasons for naming characters if you want and I will assure you that if you tell me why you think I named them such things I will be very amused. Hisoka is the only one whose name really means anything deeper than what can be taken at face value.
So, what do you think?
Edit: 06.08.2011
Edit: 06.10.2011
Edit: 06.18.2011