Previously known as AnitaThePapermaster, now referred to as Prince-Malice.
The following is a work of fiction, all ownership of the characters belongs to Masashi Kishimoto and I am making no profit from the creation of this story. This is the only time during this fanfic that I will be acknowledging the fact but be aware, it remains.
WARNINGS: The following contains; Slash, Language, Sex, Personality Interpretation, Alternate Universes, and Awesomeness.
Mischief and the Rotten Boat
Allow me to begin by stating that I am genuinely unsure of when this illustrious undertaking began. In fact, whether the beginning could be considered the moment I heard that battery-acid voice or rather, when I took my first post-womb breath of stale air... I knew not.
A good place to start perhaps, that instant when my arm trembled against the weight of a fat duffle bag, the salt of the ocean air coated thick in my mouth. There was nothing like a shriveled boat dock beneath your feet to keep you moving forward.
"Hey you! With the red hair!"
Not yet, I haven't quite recalled the beginning, remember?
So I'm walking along this dock because that's all there was, the roads were a ways off and any shop I could have any immediate need for was a few strides away, a few creaky steps on water swollen planks… Not intimidating whatsoever.
It was possible that to the veteran fisherman, the last worry on the mind was the ground giving out beneath your feet, condemning you to a long soak in the world's finest body of water. The ocean, as most refer to it as.
"I know you can hear me Red! Come here!"
It's as if my recollections refused to organize themselves, that's not until later in the story… not until after the storm.
For instance, right now it is as sunny as a waitress on her first day. The waves play a tune as they slap against rocks as if they had always intended to get somewhere. Somber they could never quite make it.
Alas, I digress; the peculiarity of dock life was not due to any lack of experience on my part, I had been visiting such areas since I was eye level with my father's knees because of the love my siblings held for the place. No, it was in fact the disturbing clenching in my gut when it sunk in that my feet were never really grounded and I could consider myself as one of the millions that possess a shred of fear for the deep blue.
"It's going to rain soon, you should get inside."
The voice rang over a sales stand piled high with every sort of fish, peaking over from the bounty was a set of emerald eyes and jutting blonde pigtails.
"Impossible." I retorted plainly, trying to ignore the barrier of dead ocean dwellers between my sister and I. "There's not a cloud in sight."
The woman I found myself related to upon birth was named Temari, as boisterous as she was short.
"Aye but the ocean is livid; that, my sweet, is a sure sign of a brewing storm just off the surf." I blinked and glanced back to watch the screaming waves.
"Gaara are you listening to me?"
"Yeah I heard you, do you need help packing up for the day?"
"That sounds perfect, hand me the tarp."
Temari was my senior by ten long years and my oldest sibling. She was one of the reasons I now resided on an aged boat dock in what some refer to as a house and others as a shack… Perhaps shack was not the appropriate word… with electricity, running water and accessible cable (if they ever thought to access it) it was more of a small, shoreline sized home.
Perfect for a couple trying to dig their feet into a fisherman's business; which is what they were. By 'they' I am of course referring to Temari and her much, much younger husband, Shikamaru Nara. I felt the additional 'much' was necessary due to the fact that I am an entire year older than her brilliant beau. And finally, I say 'brilliant' because once he and she hitched, the man had a sure fire plan to kick-starting the lifestyle change that was required for the blonde to accomplish her dream.
That dream being a house on a boat dock attached to a fish stand. It was that same fish stand that she stood at day by day, the one that was adored by many tourists and native born folk alike. In spite of its popularity, the booth never lay empty because of my older brother, Kankuro. A fisherman who when others were splurging on their first car, was saving up for that one dream boat. He sometimes called her Salamander and never sailed her while sober because, as he insisted, that's not how fishing worked.
As of yet his plan had not backfired.
Between the two of them and my lazy yet clever brother-in-law, our father could never tread on the dreams of successful business in the fishing industry and therefore, was forced to keep his mouth closed while he was still alive. That's the lovely part; the other however, is that comfy little half-house that is a blessing for any newly-wed couple with a dream.
As of a week prior that incoming storm, the shack (there I go again) housed four, all of whom were very appreciative of their privacy whether it be to consummate a recent marriage, to drink in grave solidarity, or in my case, close my eyes and imagine myself as far away from the churning seas as possible.
Such a thing was difficult when the walls rattled from each asthmatic breath the wind let loose upon it.
"NO! DOWN HERE! YOU'RE LOOKING THE WRONG WAY FELLA!"
Why was I here again? It was easy to forget. With two years of college down and still unable to decide what it was in life I wished to further pursue, I had come to the decision to take a year off and just think about what it is I truly wanted. Some could say it was a spiritual journey, others, nothing more than a change of scenery. Either way, when Temari heard of my search for a temporary living space, she dusted off the welcome mat and set me up on a cot that wasn't quite horrible.
I will take this opportunity to note that Kankuro snores, something like the sound of a pig at the slaughter.
Between him and the wind any hopes for sleep vanished.
And then came the rain.
The next morning I ventured out in the torrents, eyeing each boat as it rocked under the slapping downpour. Fourteen hours of nonstop rain, I cursed my sister's accurate reading of the waves. And now, clad in a heavy plastic overcoat and hood, I made my way slowly down the way, hand grasped on a soggy rail. It took triple the usual time to get to the pub; walking in I could already recognize a handful of faces from the tight community that was the boat docks.
The thin brunette with her hair brushed back offered a smile and a seat. "A pint I guess." I requested, hanging my coat on a rack by the door. That's how small this town was; they still had public coat racks. "That best be of root beer." I rolled my eyes and offered a grimace (it was nearer a smile than my usual placid expression) "Ay, how about whatever you think settles well." I would not be twenty-one for another half year and Shizune, a new-found friend and neighbor of my sister, was well aware of it.
But it never hurt to try.
I ended up with a tall mug of hot cider in my hands, each sip thawing my insides in just the right way.
"Thank you."
The woman smiled and settled herself against the counter, small breasts perking up a bit at the extra support. "Don't reckon you'll be wantin' anythin' else with that?" Her eyes slipped closed and her accent inviting, Shizune was calm in comparison to the other inhabitants of the region and perhaps that's why I felt close to comfortable in her presence.
"I don't suppose you have almonds?"
"Aye! I'll bet we do, wait a bit."
She walked off.
Now, as I had mentioned already, a number of people that laughed and drank whiskey just behind where I sat I was familiar with. Though, the loudest of the bunch was a man with snow white hair that trailed down his back. Skin thick from the salty air and one nasty wart beneath a wrinkled eye, the old man known only as Jiraiya had sailed the open waters for four decades yet no one really knew why.
Only ever fishing for his own dinner, the man and his boat were rarely apart; he ate, slept, and fraternized on it, surprising his lot of friends when he walked the fifteen paces to the pub for a pint.
Perhaps it had something to do with the rain…
"Aha! I've slept a fortnight on deck in an angry hurricane, this is nothing more than a drizzle compared to the storms I've seen!" I resisted the urge to roll my eyes; it seemed to be nothing but a waste of energy. "But be warned, whether a tinkle or a doozey, it's not safe to be stirring up sea waters." His voice was bellowing, impossible to ignore; yet every sailor was the same, boasting about some endeavor or knowledge that nobody could ever vouch for.
"Here you are, Gaara." A small bowl of toasted almonds set before me, I fished for my wallet. "Don't worry about it, your sis cuts me a mean deal on herrin', so fill up and don't be shy, boy." I nodded my thanks and dropped a five in her tip jar, causing her to give me that strange look that reminded me of a mother I never had.
"You see, when the ocean is churned, it's almost like a crawfish broil… all the veggies and junk no one wants gets swept up to the surface," "What're you implying?" The silver-haired companion beside him noted nonchalantly, setting his mug down. Jiraiya looked back and forth with suspicion, to be honest a bit of curiosity spiked within me.
"Sea devils."
And then laughter bound off the walls and glass shattered, Shizune was at attention quick as ever. "Mr. Jiraiya! There will be none of that in this establishment, if you and your friends don't calm ye selves, I'm going to have to ask that you leave." For the first time of the night, I openly stared at the group, Jiraiya on his feet and mug nothing but a pile of shards on the floor where he had thrown it in a fit of rage.
"You laugh now Kakashi but I've been on the waters for thrice your life, you ain't a man of the sea if you don't fear its devils." The brunette hostess had a broom out and was quickly cleaning the mess, muttering profanities under her breath about adding the cost of the glass to the group's bill.
To be fair it couldn't have cost much.
The man with the heavy wrinkles under his black eyes had created his own metaphorical soap box and didn't hesitate a moment to raise his voice. "I've seen one many a time." More laughter, something entirely expected out of a group of sailors after a few too many drinks.
"One? So you're sayin' it's the same one?" The last of my cider was drained and I found myself staring at the leftover beads collecting on the rim of my glass. "That is exactly…" Another beer in the air, his rapid arm movements spilling torrents of the ale to the floor; Shizune having her work beyond cut out for her.
"What I am saying."
"How many times have you seen this one?" Liquid splashing, chairs scraping, I was near to just rising and walking out of the small pub and not looking back.
I never could tolerate much theatrics.
"More than I have digits. You see he follows me around, wants to snack on my raw flesh."
Jiraiya slipped quickly into the story-teller mode that every sailor possessed, his hands shifting to make the motions of whatever words came from his mouth. "He? Did you just say he?" Kakashi balked, slamming his mug down with an unnecessary crack. "Don't tell me your little water fairy was a little water fairy."
More boisterous laughter, it was beginning to make my head throb. "Hah! Laugh you may, but this was no fairy, those kind are soft and wily; seductresses in a way. Not this one, this one was cruel and cunning, I was a lad when he first charmed himself onto my boat and ever since he's done so again and again, his long tail just draping over the edge like a snake."
I rolled my eyes, swiveling my barstool to openly stare at the scene. Mermaids, this man was talking about mermaids… I had been visiting these sorts of places since I was very young and yet I couldn't recall ever hearing someone talk so intently about a large fish with the upper half of a woman.
Or was it a woman with the lower half of a large fish?
"So this man was a mermaid?" "Not a mermaid, what a ludicrous and overly-mainstreamed term. He was a devil straight from the deepest trench, with skin the color of paper and tiny, yellow eyes." The look in Jiraiya's was one of recollection, focusing on an image that none of us could see. "I'd never seen anything quite like it, thick black hair that hung everywhere like a curtain as he beckoned me back into the sea with him."
Iruka, a mousey man with a large scar painted across his nose piped up. "And then what? This creature of a man seduced you?" Chuckles echoed and the tips of Jiraiya's ears went scarlet, his mouth opening and stuttering out a response.
"T-Trust me, if the thing had tits I'd be a goner."
Every glass went up in the air. "Cheers to Jiraiya's unwavering heterosexuality!"
And that's around the time I tuned out, finishing my almonds and trying to picture a creature of the deep with a snake-like mermaid tail and small gold eyes.
()()()()()()
Just off the start of the largest pier is a small shop referred to as "Tackle and Things". Tackle and Things is just what it sounds like; the most convenient spot to pick up bait, bobbers, line, and then of course, things.
Now you are probably wondering by now what things are, the first time I ever laid eyes on the place I had been almost curious myself. That is, if I could find the effort to be curious over something so meaningless at the moment.
I suppose back then, before I met Naruto, everything was close to meaningless.
Now, things, those would be the type of things that people in the area did not necessarily not want, so much as not need. Little tidbits and hand-me-downs and donated nothings stacked every shelf in the back half of the shop, things such as prescription pill bottles with names marked out in sharpie to lamps without a lamp shade. Although it's true that not much use could be found of such things, that which can be found of use are usually in very small quantities and gone within mere hours.
Pocket knives, socket wrenches, flashlights, and batteries; though never really an even number of the batteries…
I was there for Kankurou, every other day or so I'd buy him a bucket of live shrimp. It never ceased to amaze me (figure of speech, I was hardly ever, truly, amazed) how quick some items came and went, yet others collected dust for months.
At the register, mounted on the wall behind the shop's owner, was the dried out upper half of a monkey stitched poorly to some equally dehydrated fish. I had remembered that mount from when I was too short to see over the counter, though it was no wonder not a single person wanted to buy the poor thing.
It was beyond ugly.
"Do you really believe that that's what they look like?" I asked, the owner shifting her sea colored eyes to the wall.
Her name was Tsunade, old enough to have helped raise half the sailors living on these docks and yet still looking as young as the first day I was dragged into her shop by an overly excited brother. Not a wrinkle in sight and never a strand of grey in her long straw colored hair that settled evenly over her shoulders.
She had been my self-proclaimed friend for close to fourteen years, always said I had something that made me stand out from the others.
I think what she meant was that I had no friends.
"Of course not, mermaids look just how you'd imagine them; only prettier than the ocean is deep." If I had the energy, I would have called her on how corny she was sounding but the way her voice fell into a sort of song, the way her expression relaxed, she looked right at home.
"You seem to like them. Mermaids, I mean."
The woman had a laugh like ice dropping to the floor; it was cold and sarcastic and caught me off guard. "Like is a word I'm not very fond of, but I'll admit I've a great deal of respect for the damn things." If I could smile it would be then, in fact, I'm sure my face must have twitched because the old bat's eyes lit up like candles in a cellar.
"They're not just a sight to look at; they're mystical, downright magicians. Real ones and I don't mean pulling rabbits out of seashells or whatever the fuck you may have just pictured in your head." She was close, though the image I got was more of pulling a fish out of a seashell rather than a rabbit. "No trivial tricks here, albeit it is likely more than one sailor has lost his inhibitions to a mindless trick such as the figure of a loved one drowning in the ocean."
Her gaze grew hard.
"Sea witches, that's what they are, and they prefer things like plagues and misfortune. The inability to catch even the most pitiful guppy is a curse a sailor may off himself for possessing. Needless to say…" Her voice had thinned out, trailing off as the bell above the shop door rang and in walked a meek girl with long night blue hair.
Tsunade smiled and cast a wave, lowering her voice and leaning close to me.
When had I started to lean in?
"They strike where it hurts the most."
Two fingers reached out and gave me a gentle tap to the heart.
As the woman turned around to weigh my bucket of shrimp, I thumbed a small seashell that lay alone in a wooden box; scrawled on a poorly placed sticker was the price of forty-five cents. Without thinking I put it on the counter, Tsunade's voice still hushed as she spoke.
"It's a shame you can't simply kill the mongrels… although hope was not all lost." I knew by her change of pitch that she possessed that same theatrical trait that anyone who loved the sea shared. "If you catch one," Her hand fell down in a chopping motion, the bucket of shrimp splashing as she dropped it back on the counter. "Just take a knife to its hair. A sea witch can live forever but their hair can never grow back. Chop the hair and you take away its magic…. Permanently."
The smile on her face spoke of great satisfaction, her long manicured fingers punching numbers in the register. "Why do you think most people think they be only legends?" I never even had the chance to open my mouth in reply. "Aye!" Another excited slam, any hopes of being discrete thwarted. "Because with not many a magical mermaid running around, they can't cause hurricanes or curse the loved ones of a sailor it desires. How easy we forget about something if it is no longer a threat to society."
Twenty-two dollars and twelve cents.
I lifted a hand in fair well.
"I have a saddle you might find interest in. It comes with a bit and I'll give it to ya for the steal of forty-seven dollars."
"I think I will pass."
Her painted lips formed a pout of sorts, much too attractive for a woman of her age.
"It's been nice talking to you boy, give your sister a hello for me."
I nodded and reflected on earlier in the pub, Jiraiya had claimed that his mermaid had long waterfalls of obsidian hair…
That would imply that the old man's nemesis of sorts could use magic.
I amused the thought that maybe that's why the man never settled down anywhere.
To some that would have been a horrible curse.
So I trudged home in the rain.
A/N: Chapter one finished! So we don't see any Naruto yet but alas, he shall arrive in time. I already have finished most of this story and will be posting it chapter by chapter probably every five days or so, just to portion it out.
Please feel free to review, I enjoy your thoughts.
And check out my Prompt Blog on Tumblr, the link is in my profile and I accept many prompts from many different fandoms. Check out the approved pairing list before posting your prompt!
Malice out.