Dancing On Glass and Other Stories
.
Author's Note: I had begun these shortly after finishing my fic/novella Coushander, and then they were set aside for a long time and untouched. I feel like now is the right time to post them. There are ten in total. The one-shots are extra fluff about the couples inside Cou. Most of them are brief, except for Cou and Matty's. They are each snap-shots in various frames of time.
1. Takeshi/Sayoe (Coushander and Saru-Shin's parents…aka, Sakumo's grandfather.)
2. Kano/Rion (…Unrequited love…)
3. Takato/Yukie (General Mishaps from a Shy Man to a Pretty Girl)
4. Dalzen/Chinatsu (No explanation required.)
5. Akeno/Sanada (Because it's a sea story, dammit. Akeno was featured in 'Victory'.)
6. Keiko/Teal (Young, crazy love.)
7. Coushander & Matsuko (THE BIRTH OF SAKUMO. YESH.)
8. Rinsano/Nora (Two lonely people. YESH.)
9. Kosaka/Misao (Because Kosaka was just as weird as Cou. Let's face it.)
10. Harou/Arisu (Because I love Harou, okay?)
.
Disclaimer: Basically everyone aforementioned are my OCs and belong to me. Yet alas, Sakumo, Jiraiya, and all canon characters in Naruto are not mine. Thank you fanfiction dot net.
Genre: Romance/Humor, Odd one-shots. Nothing mature.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
1. Another Mischief
.
She held her son's small hand as they walked home that afternoon, cooling slightly with the clouds and trees of generous shade. Paired with maple, oak, and pine, young poplar boughs swayed downward on both sides of the lane, their leaves clapping gently like a distant audience of a theater somewhere in some romantic, large city like Tanzaku. A dream, for her, existing only as such deep in the night. They had just come from Midori town, the market, and were walking home. She noticed her young son's eyes watching for birds, squirrels, and any other critters climbing the jungle of limbs. Her eyes focused on the old path. She wasn't feeling well at all.
She had given birth a few short days ago. Another son. Another mischief. Another Takeshi. Another Hatake. And she smiled lightly, thinking of that man, her husband. She looked down at her boy holding her hand, "Thank you for carrying that bag," she said. The boy, five years old with her own almond black-brown eyes, looked up and offered a quick, warm smile. He seemed to sense her distress. He was very sensitive toward her and toward nature in general. In many ways, he was a much like her…except a handful, just like his father. The young boy could even drive his own father crazy from time to time. "Would you mind putting it all away when we get home?" she asked him.
He shook his head. No, he didn't mind. Glad he said nothing, the momentary silence offered her some peace. She had been awfully tired of the past week, and more so now. Oh, the silence, she reveled. She would take a long rest before supper.
The little signpost came into view at last, hidden among the poplar and pines—their turn off was near. Gladder still, she soon stopped and the familiar swirl of turmoil clenched her stomach and her nerves—as they had approached the narrow path through the trees she gasped as she saw an old white mattress and an under support lying in the grass, tossed vicariously against the trunk of an old and weary maple. They stopped and stared at this strange sight and her hand released slowly form her five year old; "Good God!" She felt faint—blank thoughts racing in her mind until one prevailed above the rest, "Oh no…No….No! What's gone on! What's he done!" Fearfully, she raced down the path—her son followed the steady jog. On either side of the fences, their fields still stood as normal. Their house in the distance, normal, yet she ran for it.
As they stepped onto the old wooden porch, they were greeted with silence. Sayoe's thoughts reached a fever; what else was missing, who was at home, why such quiet…Her baby! Her new baby…! Without waiting for her other child, she raced inside, looking, listening—her heart throbbing painfully as she looked—"Takeshi…?" she uttered at first meekly. "Takeshi!" She panicked, "Takeshi!"
"Dearest, what's the matter?" said a lazy-sounding voice from the small dining room. He had a head covered by a borrowed grey newspaper as she entered in further, her black eyes wide and circular—"Takeshi, were we robbed? What's happened? What's going on! Oh my poor child! Where is Coushander! Is he safe?!"
"…What…?" his thin lips grinned.
"TAKESHI!" she stammered, "What's going on! What have you done! Where is my baby!"
"Sleeping! In his crib!" he answered her exclamations simply.
She stood there for a moment, her sore little body suddenly quivering, ready to spring to the boys' room in a rush of madness but her strength had faded. Her oldest son, knowing now there was no danger, or at least very little, put away the groceries silently, eagerly listening to the wild scene. And then at last, she began to cry. And she cried heavily, burying her face in her palms, her frame convulsing slightly and shaking. Takeshi glanced at his son in the kitchen with a peculiar air and he came over to his wife, put his arms around her, and held her gently. Sayoe cried harder before the spell finally lessened and dissipated into the queer silence it shattered.
"…What happened?" the five year old heard her ask tentatively as Takeshi still held her on to her slender frame.
"…I bought you something," he grinned readily. His blue-grey eyes sparkled a bit in the way his eldest son's did when getting into all kinds of trouble. The newborn had Takeshi's eyes, as well as his looks. But both brothers shared peculiar silver hair—Ryouma's a little more white in tone; that trait had been straight from Takeshi's grandfather. Ryouma had even won little red stripes on either side of his eyes.
Sayoe's thin black brow raised in another dose of frightful shock. And rightfully so. "…What?"
Takeshi winked at his older boy—Ryouma began to smile.
Meanwhile his wife was at a loss for words, but Takeshi supplied suavely, "I'm so sorry to scare you my dear—it was not my intention to do so. I wanted to buy it before you had the baby, but I needed more time to save up the money…"
"—Hatake Takeshi—" she stammered, "You…you didn't buy…!"
"Oh but I did," he continued to grin his inimitable silly grin.
Again, for a moment, she was utterly speechless—"But! Oh Takeshi, you didn't!"
"Take a rest my dear. I want you to sleep easy from now on."
"…Crazy fool!" she called him and wanted to pull away but he wouldn't let her while she continued to rail, "How could you afford such a thing! Takeshi you shouldn't have, not for me, oh Takeshi!"
"Relax sweetheart! It's all paid for. I don't owe them a single acorn, I promise."
She made a noise and rolled her eyes as he tried to lead her to their bedroom. "But, how!"
"Come, come and see."
Again, she held her ground, "Not until you tell me how…"
"I didn't sell the farm exactly. I didn't sell our boys. See? We still have the old clock in the kitchen. I just sold everything else," he teased. But her pale white face was still very pale. "Relax," he said to her willowy form. "I've wanted to give you this for a while," he said quietly, "And it just took me longer than expected. Come and see our new bedroom. I even put our old sheets on it." He tugged her forward and she reluctantly followed him. Takeshi did the honor of pushing the door open for her to see a clean white mattress, covered by the same old blue flowered sheets.
Ryouma looked on too, having done his duty under such wicked intrigue. He wanted to burst out, "It's so tall and big!" but he kept quiet, smiling in the same proud manner as his father.
Takeshi held her firmly by the shoulders so she would not faint without his strong hands to hold her up. "So do you like it? You should lay on it. Then you can see how you like it."
The child would have jumped on it for her sake, but he held still behind the two of them, looking on with hungry eyes instead. "You…You didn't have to…" Sayoe murmured emotionally.
"You would have really continued sleeping on a rock?" her husband asked incredulously, smiling slyly under his charcoal hair: "Ryouma," for he knew the boy was behind him, "Go get your mother some rocks. She misses the old set already."
"No…no…" said Sayoe, "It's just…such…a surprise…" Ryouma heard a tearful smile in her voice and she looked up at her husband gratefully.
"I'm glad," Takeshi consented with a loving smile, staring his wife's pretty face. "You feel tired even in my arms—sit down," he enticed.
"…I'm afraid I'll break it." He guided her toward the new mattress, sitting there on the floor in a frame. "Well, if it does break," he said factually, "We can take it back to the store. For I bought it in a store, not off a man or wagon, or mail…or possum."
She cried at his childish humor just as she sat down on the plush but firm top, "A store…" she repeated in awe.
"Yes," he smiled proudly. "That mysterious, large place with doors that respectable people enter in and out of." Looking back at his eldest son he winked again, happy he bought her such a fine thing. He could also tell his boy was itching to try it too so Takeshi told him, "Go check on your brother."
Ryouma frowned mildly but did as he was told, trotting next door to his closet size room he would now have to share with his wailing baby brother.
"So do you like it?" Takeshi asked her with a smile.
"Oh…" she felt the softness over the sheets. "It's flawless."
"Mihure helped me bring it in," said her husband. He referred to their close neighbors. Takeshi walked over and sat on the opposite side. "The man told me it'd be good for a long time. You'll be…in your late fifties before this thing goes, and I'll prolly be almost dead."
"Takeshi," she said scornfully, disapproving of his humor.
He grinned, "So do you like it, really?"
"Yes," she nodded her head, wiping her tears with her sleeve. "Yes. Thank you," she said softly.
"You're welcome."
A second later, the two saw their little boy enter back into their room. "Um, can you guys look at Coushander now? Please? I think he needs something changed..."
Oddly feeling refreshed, Sayoe got up with a smile and headed for the little room. "Can we keep him outside or something?" Ryouma wondered aloud, "Seriously!"
.
.
.
.