Hey there, my wonderful readers! This story is indeed a request (for akatsukixsinger285), so I'll give you some short info on the OC after the disclaimer.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Naruto, nor anything affiliated with the manga/anime, nor do I gain profit by producing this written delicacy of utter delight. The poem I use in this is written by Willa Cather and is entitled The Tavern.
Let's see… Your name is Amaya; you are muy inteligente with an IQ of over 200, a chῡnin, and you have a unique kekkei genkai that allows you to bend and manipulate the earth.
A teenage girl stared off into the sky, daydreaming of a different world: a world with happiness, with peace and understanding. She was happy, though she knew it wasn't real. She savored the moments each day she spent in her imaginary universe. When she came back to reality, it always hit her with full force, but she endured. There was no other way to be with him.
She was lying in a field filled with golden daffodils waving in the wind, waiting. She was waiting for him to return – her love – though, it was only one way; she feared he wouldn't return.
IN the tavern of my heart
Many a one has sat before,
Drunk red wine and sung a stave,
And, departing, come no more.
He left on a team mission five days ago, and was expected back the day before. There was emptiness, coldness, she felt as a breeze blew through the meadow that resonating from deep within her. There was something missing without him. The two did not talk much, she merely sat with him as he watched the clouds; sometimes she watched them too, others she watched him. Today, she sat with her legs against her chest staring longingly at the place he normally laid.
"You're here." The voice was familiar: monotonous. She knew not whether it was a statement or a question.
"Yeah…" was the girl's soft reply. He was finally home, back with her. Yet, the warmth she usually felt did not return; there was something different.
"Are you all right, Amaya?" he asked.
She wasn't.
"I'm fine." She flashed him a fake smile, a well-practiced act that tore at her heart. She hated to pretend, but reality was much too difficult to bear. Shikamaru's eyes met hers, but she couldn't tell whether he believed her or not. "Really," she pressed.
He sighed and sat beside her.
When the night was cold without,
And the ravens croaked of storm,
They have sat them at my hearth,
Telling me my house was warm.
I missed you.
She couldn't say it.
She couldn't admit to herself that she loved him. Temari was her best friend – how could she admit it? It had taken so long to get a friend, someone who listens. But, even so, Amaya couldn't tell her. Tell her what her mind was aching for her to scream. Instead, she said,
"Temari's come to visit."
She could have sworn she saw him glance at her. "Tsunade is letting her stay at one of the temporary apartments." Amaya handed the boy a piece of paper with an address scrawled upon it. She wished she didn't have to give it to him; it was like giving away a piece of her heart. A piece ripped from her chest by the pen she wrote it with.
Shikarmaru's eyes showed something the girl could not quite understand. Surprise? Questioning? It didn't matter. "I'll go see her then." He started to walk away.
"Shikamaru."
He turned around. "Yeah?"
Please don't leave me. "You should hurry; it looks like rain is coming."
As the lute and cup went round,
They have rhymed me well in lay;
When the hunt was on at morn,
Each, departing, went his way.
The sky was growing black, and winds were starting to pick up in the distance. Wintriness was slowly creeping toward the village from the surrounding mountains. Amaya shivered, the coldness surrounding her heart was now consuming her from the outside as well.
"You should go too."
She nodded. "I will, in a minute."
Shikamaru looked at the girl a moment, staring off into nowhere and longing on her face, before leaving himself. She watched him go, the feeling of wanting to be near him growing stronger with every step he took. She stood, knowing that even if her best friend loved him, at least he would be around more often.
Rain began to drizzle from the sky as Amaya made her way to the restaurant. Temari had left a note on her table, instructing where she and Shikamaru had gone for dinner. Not sure if she would interrupt anything, Amaya approached the restaurant cautiously, trying not to be seen. It was nearing dark – the storm clouds only making it darker – and the winds were stronger now, bring droplets of water with each gust.
The restaurant had a lone window, surrounded by worn bricks, and aged wooden door. Temari and Shikamaru were sitting beside the window, talking. Amaya stopped to watch them. Temari was gesturing with her hands, seeming to tell a story, as Shikamaru listened politely. Then he smiled.
A real smile.
Something Amaya could never do.
On the walls, in compliment,
Some would scrawl a verse or two,
Some have hung a willow branch,
Or a wreath of corn-flowers blue.
She felt the pain rip at her, break her into pieces. She was angry. Angry at herself for letting down her guard, opening up – even if just a minute amount – and most of all: falling in love. She broke a promise to herself, the promise not to feel. She did not cry nor love, until Shikamaru came into her life. He didn't try to make her talk, like everyone else after she came to Konoha. A girl of eight, no parents or brothers or sisters. No family.
She told the villagers she fell on her journey, that's where the bruises came from. That it was hard to get to Konoha. That she had nightmares and clenched onto herself in her sleep, that's why they looked like handprints.
No one knew the truth.
She was crying now, the rain was falling with her tears, mixing as they flowed together into the mud. The dark. The dark was closing in on her; she could feel the familiar pressure of fear in her chest. Today, she pushed it down, deep down and turned it into more anger.
She made her way to a forgotten flower field slowly being overgrown by forest life. In the middle stood a lone tree meant to offer shade for the florists. It reached into the sky, its branches beckoning Amaya into their grasp.
She looked at the tree bark, fingertips slowly making their way across her mother's name.
Ah! my friend, when thou dost go,
Leave no wreath of flowers for me;
Not pale daffodils nor rue,
Violets nor rosemary.
Her thoughts returned to Shikamaru.
Using all the chakra she could, Amaya bent the earth before her until it was a semblance of two people, side-by-side. The rain was starting to cool her skin – turn it to ice – but she need not care. She had no will, for the world was too painful for her to bear.
Having exhausted most of her energy and chakra, she fell to her knees before the statues: Temari and Shikamaru. Two lovers now immortalized by her own hands.
Her hands.
Amaya clawed at them, scraped her nails down their rough surfaces. If she was going to feel pain, she wanted to cause it. She wanted control. Her frozen flesh began to meld with the hot blood that ran down from her fingertips.
Someone stopped her hands. "Amaya, stop."
Amaya looked at the tree.
The tree being swallowed by the dark.
And herself being swallowed by the ice.
"Mom?"
She too, was consumed by darkness.
Spill the wine upon the lamps,
Tread the fire, and bar the door;
So despoil the wretched place,
None will come forevermore.