Note: Though you make thing that my grammar is atrocious, this is how the story is meant to be. It's a specific style of writing, and one that I'm not entirely comfortable with. But oh well. Enjoy! (I hope)
Standard disclaimers apply.
Portraits--
One day they just were.
Neither of them really understood the mechanics of it all. In one moment the street was empty and then there was him and then there was and they saw only each other. Their feet knew how to walk when their legs didn't and their lips knew how to kiss when their brains couldn't think. It was good and raw and there was an emptiness that didn't seem so empty anymore.
"You need this," he whispered.
"So do you."
"I know."
--
Like most good love stories they fell deeply in love.
It was an odd thing to comprehend the meaning behind why. She was young and he was seasoned, but it was nothing like the whispers thought it to be. When she said 'sensei' it was teasing and affectionate and so wrong but a thousand times right. And people talked but it was lost to them because people didn't understand because there was no way anyone but them could really know.
"You're his student," they said.
"Not since I was a child."
"You are a child."
"Not after all of the things I've seen."
--
The first night she didn't come home was also the last.
Sitting in his apartment felt normal, like she had always been there. He lounged on the bed pondering this and watching her as she unpacked her belongings. They went into the spaces that were empty like they were the pieces that had been missing for years. And he wondered if maybe he had left room for her before he knew there would ever be a her or a them or even an 'us' or a 'we'.
He hid his smile behind his folded arms, so unlike the mask that usually concealed his feelings from the world. But she was there and she was staying and he imagined there wouldn't be much use for masks anymore. At least not with her. He would put them away somewhere no one would look.
"What are you thinking about?" she asked.
"My underwear drawer."
"Me too."
--
She trades her name for his.
They didn't bother with the frivolities of a ceremony. Ninja lived secretly and their lives were their own except sometimes they weren't. And she was happy relieved excited about the future because now she had hers and it was so real.
And she supposed not many people would notice the difference because an H was an H no matter how you looked at it.
Who really cared about initials anyway?
--
He comes back from a mission injured.
Days of hospital stays and surgeries and worry come and go until they both end up home together where they feel like life has been on pause waiting for the right moment to begin again.
And she can't see enough. She needs to feel and he needs to feel and they both need like there won't be another tomorrow. He knows and she knows that it was too too too close and there almost wasn't going to be another tomorrow.
All of the emotion comes in gasps and groans and half-spoken affections in the heat of the moment. And when it's over there's something that wasn't there before. And it's impossible to say, but they both know.
"This could be good," he nods, pulling her closer.
"It will be."
--
What used to be two has become four.
A little boy pokes his head over the side of the bed, trying to get a better look at this new thing called a 'sister'. He doesn't understand why it's such a big deal because girls are boring and he would rather be playing outside with his practice kunai like all the other will-be ninjas.
But Mommy is tired and Daddy has that face he makes like he does when he's done something right.
His grubby three-year-old hand tugs impatiently at the blanket and he is lifted for a better look.
"Her hair is white," he says, reaching out to touch it.
"Funny how that happens," is the reply.
He pushes pink strands out of his eyes.
--
He doesn't come back.
A boy watches from the branches of a tree as a familiar name is carved into stone. He supposes that everyone dies, but he never expected so soon. He is angry and sad and he still couldn't throw a shuriken properly.
But she claims he is his father's son and she knows he'll do proud things just like him. She's crying but he pretends he doesn't see it because he wants to cry and she seems sad enough for both of them.
He wipes at the tears that fall.
--
One morning he is waiting for her.
She wakes feeling unlike she's felt in years and the bones that usually ache don't ache anymore and the wrinkles are gone and she can see like she hasn't seen in years. She can see him.
He raises his hand in greeting and she is running to him and kissing him and feeling him. She is remembering him. He missed everything and he's sorry but she doesn't care anymore and they are together and that's how good love stories end.
"Together, right?"
"Yeah, together."
Finis--
Note: I'm still quite iffy with this story because it's not how I usually write. And as my introduction to this fandom… /shakes head. They'll be better next time. And the time after that too.
It's a fanfiction sin to read without reviewing.