POSITIVE
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'Cause I'm only human
And I bleed when I fall down
I'm only human
And I crash and I break down
Your words in my head, knives in my heart
You build me up and then I fall apart
'Cause I'm only human
[Christina Perri - Human]
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("Come on, girl, get on your knees! On your knees!")
Mihana groaned as she pulled her knees closer to her chest and patted her mouth dry, using a tissue. In her free hand, she held a mug with steaming sencha tea, she led to her lips. Hoping, it would wash away the foul, sour taste from her tongue, she carefully sipped on the hot drink; however, only burned her gums trying. The heat made her eyes tear.
"Fuck!", she growled, as she spat back the swallow back into the mug and poured some of the tea over her lap because she covered her mouth making a galvanic move. "Fuck!"
Mihana bent over to put the mug onto the table she sat in front of and wiped her hand at the cushion of the sofa.
(Stop moving, you little bitch! Just bear it as I did bear my younger brother's death! He died in that battle back then, you know. And it is your father's fault!")
Next, to the mug, there was a white piece of plastic lying on the table. Looking at it made Mihana's eyes filled with fresh tears. She just couldn't stop the bouncing of her right leg.
"Two minutes," she mumbled, casting a quick glance at the clock on the wall. The minute hand jumped from three to four. Mihana gulped, and this time, the heat in her stomach had nothing to do with steaming sencha tea that burned her gums. "Half-time."
Maybe it didn't happen anything. Maybe I was lucky...
Suddenly, she laughed – loud, strident, and crying. "Lucky!," she shouted into the empty apartment. "Lucky!"
("You know, Sweetheart, we had a lot to swallow back then, when you father betrayed us, and you guys from Konoha stabbed our backs! So, today – today you're going to swallow; swallow everything we give you, got it?!")
"Lucky...," Now her voice was only a hoarse whisper. "Screw it!"
She used the back of her hand, she wiped away her tears to cast another brief look on the clock. The minute hand pointed to seven now. Suddenly, Mihana felt cold and within a heartbeat, her mouth drained. Like hypnotised, she stared at the second hand which crawled the face stroke by stroke for two more rounds, before her eyes broke away from the clock and slowly dropped them to the table.
The blood rushed through her ears, and as she finally seized for the white piece of plastic, the room around her started to falter. The bookshelf in the left corner of her eye jumped up and down; the flower vase on the windowsill at the other side of the room spun around so fast that its colourful pattern blurred, turned grey, and ugly. The ground beneath her feet quaked.
Then, just as her fingertips brushed the plastic, Mihana suddenly flinched and froze: the door's Ding-ding-dong! cut through her empty thoughts, and for the blink of an eye, she felt like she was waking up from a bad dream. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before she withdrew her hand and stood up.
("Does it hurt? Good!")
The numbness in her limbs reminded her of a morning after three nights sleeping on the frozen forest soil.
("Blame your father! It's all your father's fault!")
The white piece of plastic remained untouched on the table, next to the mug with steaming sencha tea, as Mihana left the living room and stepped into the hall. At the door, she crouched down and peered through the keyhole. She saw white clothing; a stained apron with a blue-plaid dish-towel.
"Who is it?," she asked standing up.
"Ichiraku Teuchi! I have some noodle soup!"
Using her right hand, Mihana cast for the key in the pocket of her dressing gown, pulled it out, and unlocked the door.
"Mihana-san," Ichiraku said smiling and suggested a bow. He carried a plastic bag; inside, loomed the shadow of a cup. "This morning, I received a message from your father. He told me, you're sick and asked me to bring you a serving of our Special Ramen."
Mihana smiled back. "I had no idea your restaurant was doing delivery now."
"Oh, we don't. However, I can make an exception for the Hokage." Holding the bag at its knotted handles, he passed it to Mihana. An envelope clung to the rustling plastic; her name was on it, written in her father's handwriting. "I hope you're feeling better already?"
"Yes," Mihana answered after some hesitation and took the bag. "I think, I'm back on duty tomorrow."
"Well, then I hope, my soup helps to bring back your spirits!"
She forced a laugh. "I am certain about that. My father swears on its vitalising powers. Thank you very much for making an exception."
Ichiraku laughed as well, crossing his arms behind his head. "You're welcome. I feel honoured that the Hokage wants to cheer up his sick daughter with our Ramen."
Mihana nodded her head to say goodbye before she closed the door and locked it again. Merely thinking about spicy soup, soft noodles, and pork made fresh bile shooting into her mouth cavity. She would've vomited in front of Ichiraku's feet if she dared to say a single word. So, she threw up into the umbrella stand next to the door, trying to keep her dark-brown hair from her face. And she cried; cried, while the bile even sprung through her nose.
("Hold her tight, boys, hold her tight. This kitty got claws!")
In the pocket of her dressing gown, she still carried the used tissue. As the urge to vomit finally passed, Mihana pulled it out and wiped her mouth, before she blew her nose. She dried her tears with her shirt's seam.
The carpet beneath her knees was wet: the cup in the bag had dropped, and its cap come off. The air was filled with a nasty cloud of acid, rot, and fresh, spicy soup. Smelling it, Mihana wanted to throw up again, but her stomach didn't want to give more.
She turned around, leaning back and head against the wall and wrapped both arms around her body, while the soup slowly soaked her pyjama pants. Her stomach still contracted painfully.
"Damn it," she whispered. "Damn it, damn it, damn it!"
Every heartbeat vibrated in her fingers; in her head, she heard moans and dirty laughter that refused to mute. To distract herself, she started to list the human body's arteries in alphabetical order: Arteria axillaries, arteria basiliaris, arteria brachialis...
It helped. At least enough to give her the strength for repressing the tears. Her left hand fumbled for the envelope that still stuck to the plastic bag. It dripped, and her name was blurred, hardly readable at all. She opened it anyway and pulled out a card. Right now, she could use some tender words.
On a yellow card, there was that blue kitten with big ears and even bigger saucer eyes printed. Its white paws embraced a red ball of wool, and its mouth held a clinical thermometer. The tail lip was wrapped with a bandage. Poor Kitty, said the font under the picture, get well soon! I think about you!
Mihana opened the dripping card. The ink of the text was blurred as well, but definitely better to read than the name on the envelope.
I tried to do something nice for you, her father had written. I am really sorry I can't visit you myself. Work is endless, you know. Still, I think about you and hope, you're just bouncing back. "I love you – Dad."
Mihana read out loud to herself and waited for the sympathetic magic of these words – I love you – which usually made her smile. However, this time, her lips stayed rigid. Magic had no effect to what was ahead of her.
She stood up sighing, put down the card on the chest of drawers in the hall and returned to the living-room. Meanwhile, the minute hand had turned half of the round. There was no steam ascending from the tea anymore. Only the white piece of plastic, a pregnancy test, still lay as before: the display upside down.
("So, who's next?")
Mihana was convinced to be ready for the feeling that would capture her when she saw the result. She knew it anyway. Still, when she took the white piece of plastic, turned it around and saw the small plus-sign, her legs just gave in. She sank to the ground, and her vision turned black.
Positive, was the next clear thought she remembered. At this time, she had somehow managed to get back on her feet. Her shoulders were trembling, and her heart rushed. Sweat dripped from her forehead.
Under a fresh yellow-green stain on the white wall lay her broken mug; the pieces of the coach-table lay at her feet. Her teeth that clamped her lower lip were the only thing that her from screaming...
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Hello everyone!
Thank you very much for visiting the story and for your patience holding on and read it so far. This is my latest fanfic project as I love to fill blank spaces in stories, and to me, personally, the identity of Konohamru's parents is one of these empty spaces. Creating the character of Sarutobi Mihana, I stumbled across the question what being a woman in the ninja world must be like. Even though Naruto provides some strong and badass female characters, I think, kunoichi do have quite the same problems because of being women as women do in real life: rape, unplanned/unwanted pregnancy, victim-shaming, ignorance etc. I am aware that these are serious topics and I do my best to handle them with care. Writing Only Human, I want to tell the story of a young, independent, and strong woman who tries to find her way and peace, even when she's burdened with the most painful experiences imageable, just as so many women have to every day...