The two things I am playing with belong to Kishimoto and Colin Meloy, respectively
Naruto: not mine (duck)
The Decemberists: not mine (duck)
The Crane Wife: not mine (duck)
The story: mine(goose)So here begins a set of independent one-shots. They are not tied together, unless specified. Seeing as that The Decemberists have replaced The Squirrel Nut Zippers as my favorite modern (modern being a relative term since I have been around since the early 80's) band, I've been seriously digging The Crane Wife. It is, by far, their best album. So, instead of song pieces, I'm taking the premise of the song and making a series of Naruto/Hinata fictions. They might be flash fictions (you might know them as drabbles) others could be multi page pieces. I know at least one or two will be POV introspections that I've become attached to. Again, I'm writing out ideas I'd like to see. Not really doing this for anybody else's approval. Reviews are not expected. However, you, dear readers, will do as you wish. It is worth noting that generally any fan written fiction is an alternate universe. These are things we want to see, want to happen, want to, etc. Naruto is fun because it's not done yet. We can pretend in the fullest sense that we are creating and shaping the lineage of the story. Writing 'Part II' was great when it wasn't being written. We pioneered ideas. We flew high. Now the cold (and in the current arc, horrible) reality sets in. Sasuke is going to be repentant and saved, or some such design (note this was written several weeks ago). The focus of the series is becoming increasingly non-Naruto centric. The fans have spoken, in their native languages, what they desire. I still hold hope. I still cling to my own foolish ideals. So with that I present to you:
The Crane Wife, as told in ten parts.
Shankhill Brothers
Little did Yondaime know what his sealing would produce. Little did the village know that even the strongest of dams can break. Little did Hinata know that his rage would be contagious. Little would Naruto know about mercy.
Its chakra was bleeding out at night. Subtly influencing those it wanted to influence. Those that would stick by it, thick and thin. Pinkie was first, then the rest of his friends. The red chakra made them slightly drunk. All craving its power. Whether or not they knew of it, they now needed it. His little army of addicted minions. Each minor transformation was exquisite. They all began exhibiting traits of it. And he was sublimely unaware. He just relished the new found attention of his friends. Sakura was being especially friendly. Having been around him the longest (besides she knew what was happening, she just wasn't stopping it), she sought out his affections. She knew she would have to share him, since the quiet one was getting increasingly aggressive.
Hinata was being affected the most by its pull. Her inner desires for the boy were being preyed upon. She never felt so . . . alive. One day she found the two in the aftereffects of their . . . sessions. She was angry. He was hers. She would have to lay claim. Just then Sakura appeared in front of her. That fight was long and exhilarating. In the end, Hinata knew what had happened. Sakura's explaination of Kyuubi, its nightly leak, everything. Hinata was angry, only now at the village. She decided to do something about it.
So it began. The nightly visits. Naruto never knew such a good time. In the afterglow of their trysts, he would sleep. And she would whisper. The Kyuubi was smirking. This one understood. The pink one was content to be the den mother. She was already bearing his child. But this one, he didn't realize his gentle (as if the great demon was gentle) manipulations affected her so. The town would burn.
Five years later civilians whispered nightly warnings. 'Beware, little ones, you better shut your windows tight. The Shankhill Brothers are sharping their cleavers and their knives.' The land of fire swore fealty to the ravaging Hyuuga. They never acknowledged her counterpart. At least if they could help it. She was a brutal mistress. Her eyes gained a slight red tint. She never trimmed her nails, and her teeth had elongated. He wore a brilliant smile, the sort of deranged smile that warned of fun. Their victims all wore the same expression. Abject fear and the faint smell of soiling oneself.
Because everybody knows, if you don't mind your mother's words,
The Shankhill Butchers want to catch you awake.
Author's Note:
Again, these aren't meant to be in-depth, multilayered fictions. These are what they are. I want them to be as long as the song's themselves. The actual song The Crane Wife (parts one two and three) obviously will take more than fifteen minutes to read. I got inspiration for this one from Purple Moon. Hinata's Little Black Book is humorous and weird. I always hated 'Naruto snaps and vows revenge' fictions. The idea is a good one, since it's shown that it would take a lot to make him snap, but most are poorly written. While I don't claim to be the greatest of writers, I know that it can be well written. Purple Moon comes the closest.
I will not use this area for ranting. Instead, I've built a forum and will continue posting them there.