[Edited for general format and errors at 11:02 9/11/07
Title: Pitter-Patter
Word Count: 1,025
We worry about what a child will become tomorrow, yet we forget that he is someone today
-Stacia Tauscher
She watches the small child amble down the dark hallway in the odd, half-wobbling way that most infants walk after their first nine months of life, her soft brown eyes following his every hesitant, experimental step and judging him quite harshly.
'Come on,' she commands him, her eyes narrowing and the death-grip she's had on her biceps tightening even more, if that were possible: 'Don't fall down ag-'
With a small baby-noise, the child does the exact opposite of what she mentally willed him not to do, and begins to crawl on his hands and knees yet again, causing her to curse underneath her breath. 'Dammit,' she whines,fists bunching at her sides as a small spark of anger came to life in her chest. 'Stop doing that...!'
As if sensing her presence, the child turns and peers into the darkness. She stands stock still in front of him, hoping that the he doesn't see her; pressing her back into the cool stone and drawing her mask back down her face in a rather feeble attempt to resemble a statue. A full minute passes with neither of them moving, until, with another baby-noise the child seems to nod (not to her, not to her; no) and stands using the wall for support.
'Oh gods, thank you,' she begins, letting out a small sigh a relief 'He was just standing up.'
When she looks at him again, he brief sigh turns into another low curse as the babe begins to walk towards her with his arms outstretched, as if he were walking into the arms of his moth--.
'Ohshit,' she panics, distinctly remembering that this exact scenario was high on the list of things the Third Hokage did not want to happen. 'Nononono.'
The child makes a small, barely audible mewling noise. She tries to sink into the stone, half-realizing that her imminent execution was her own fault for taking on the mission in the first place. Children weren't her specialty in the least, and here was one of the most important...'Crap...He's getting...' She never signed on for something like this! She wasn't a mother at all! She was barely even twenty, for crying out loud! Who in the hell did the Third think he was for putting her int his position!
'Nyeeeeaaaahhh...!'
...And yet, when the child stumbles and falls to the ground, knocking his forehead against the hard stone and beginning to cry, she unconsciously runs towards him and sweeps him up into her arms; pressing his face into the crook of her neck where the hard leather of her armor was the most malleable."Ssssh," she croons into his soft hair, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet as the child wails into her jugular like a banshee, "Ssssh...It's going to be alright now, little one...Ssssh...I've got you now."
The babe nuzzles her neck like an animal would, spreading tears and mucus everywhere. The crying doesn't let up, and slowly, she begins to grow more and more terrified at how far she's going; at how much she's endangering her career by simply being near this child.
Then, he hiccups, gentle and low like a whisper, and small, pudgy hands with equally small and pudgy fingers reach up past the part of her face that her mask covers and find her skin, poking and tracing the curve of her jawline like a blind man memorizing the edges of a painting he did not understand but wanted to so badly.
'...Wait, no...Don't...'
He comes to the cool ceramic of the mask, his fingers dumbly tripping over the smooth-rough edges of the material and the strange, raised spiral design that make up the whiskers and the mouth, his hands drawing back when he feels the wolf's teeth as if the thing had somehow bit him. Inwardly, she cringes as the babe inhales and begins to cry again; wailing louder now than before, his face shoved into her neck as if it were his lifeline; his safety.
She wonders, for a moment, what that means in the grand scheme of foxes and humans, but dismisses the thought just as quickly as it emerges, closing her eyes and slowly counting to ten to cope with how...painful holding a crying child was. '...Oh gods, what...what now?'
She does the only thing she knows how to do with children, and begins to rock him back and forth in her arms like the center of a steady metronome, her gentle ministrations calming him down enough after a few minutes; but...even though he stops crying, and even though he relaxes somewhat, something...something doesn't feel right, still.
Children weren't...They weren't supposed to be so still when they felt safe, were they?
'Wait...Shit, wait
It hits her all at once, like a punch to the gut or a kunai to the back; her anominity...
Her badge of office..
What she's worked her entire life to achieve...
'Oh Gods...'
It scares him.
It's...It's the mask.'
Throwing her mask to the floor so that it clatters all-too loudly in the dark and helps mask the soft, whimpered sniffling the child, she collapses to her knees and just...just holds him. "Little one..." she whispers, understanding the severity of the events that have just transpired and feeling that much worse for analyzing a...a human being (not a fox, not a target; a child, for gods sake) so detachedly, "Little one, I'm sorry..."
He makes a noise somewhere between a cough and a sniffle, looking up at her with wide, bright blue eyes so clear she can see her face in them. She smiles into his gaze, small tears gathering at the corner of her eyes, and presses her forehead against his own, causing him to reach out and feel her face again.
"...M-Momma."
She closes her eyes, the tears finally falling as her heart swells with pride, and for the first time in her life ...for the first time in her life Uzumaki Yuugao sees her nephew as a boy, and not a monster.
XXX
- Fin
XXX
Whenever Naruto saw someone wearing an ANBU Mask, he somehow felt intrinsically at peace with the world.