A.N: Well, I'm back and here's chapter two of Ink Child... Sorry for the long wait but, I've not been very inspired of late. Even this chapter I feel is quite forced. I want to thank everyone who reviewed; your words have really encouraged me! Thanks a bunch. Have a cookie all of you (:::) ! When I first posted this story, I did it on a whim, a leap of faith really. It had been sitting on my computer for awhile and I just wanted to see how people would react to it. I'm really happy because all the feedback has been positive.
Enjoy the read, and sorry for the rubbish chapter. It certainly wasn't worth the wait...
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto... I sure wish I did though... Can we pretend that airplanes in the night sky are like shooting stars, I could really use a wish right now, wish right nooOow...
Ink child
Chapter 2: The Weaver and the Naked Child
"Pick one, knit two and drop"
The ancient weaver sings
The naked child in the corner sat
"Pick one, knit two and drop"
The needles clap one together-
Applaud the weaver's art
The child naked in the corner
Shrinks - vulnerable and weak
It's hard to tell the colour of-
The weaver's clothes and work,
Some view it black, some other's white
Conscience depicts the shade...
!
He hadn't moved from the kitchen since the first raindrop had fallen- he simply stood there transfixed by Precipitations symphonic wailing. By now her melody had picked up tempo- her gentle crying turn into violently raucous sobbing. As he looked out the nearest window- which so happened to be the door that led to the back yard- he swore he could see Precipitation's silhouette across the sky. She stood there, shoulders crouched, her long tendrils of hair splaying across the sky as clouds with fists tightly clenched by her sides- teardrops literally pouring from her endless eyes. She was a beautiful yet heart wrenching sight at the same time.
Really... a faceless gorgeous woman in the sky, he thought. He smiled;nowadays it seemed his musings were getting the best of him. As a child his imagination had been wild and vivid- he had assumed it would have been subdued as he got older, perhaps not.
Still staring at the sky and the rain which by now was pelting down on the earth so hard it sounded like tiny flies making full force kamikaze dives towards the world- Precipitation's symphony evolved into an unpleasant cacophony of noise.
It was at times like this when he was younger that his older sister would sit him on her lap as they both stared out the window together. She would then continue her story about the three sisters Weather.
It was a well known fact that Precipitation cried a lot- she couldn't help it with her big heart and all- but sometimes her sadness became so hysterically morose that, for a blind moment her cries became less cleansing and redeeming- turning more reproachful and punishing. Her tears- the rain- were like whips beating the people angrily begging them to repent. It seemed even she with her endless love and abundant kindness could not understand the wickedness and complexity of the human ways. Why everyone could not work towards happiness was beyond her. It was at this time when her thoughts became so negative, so morbid, that she, Precipitation- the bearer of the world's pain- briefly went insane, for she was always on the brink of insanity, and lashed out her frustration...
He chuckled at the memory; his older sister really enjoyed personifying the weather, because if he remembered correctly the majority of her bedtime stories revolved around the three sisters Weather. And as he looked out his window he could kind of see why the weather had appealed to his sister...
!
Almost immediately as Neji Hyuga walked into the house he knew something was amiss.
A four storey house, it wasn't too extravagant- in fact it looked like any other house on the street, only subtle hints about the house might suggest the family was a little better off than the average family in the neighbourhood. The subtle snub appearing in the form of their designer garden, their pure gold doorbell, the smaller apartment at the side which housed their resident house cleaners and the slight upturn of all the features of the house- the house itself seeming to smirk slightly.
It was around midday; school had let out maybe two hours or so, give or take. He had been kept back because of a Student Council Meeting- of which he was the secretary (only the Head boy or girl could be president of the Student Council, a small fact that irked Neji slightly)- which had dragged on longer than intended. Usually when he came home he could sense, almost physically feel, her presence- that timid mousy presence that seemed determined to try to shirk away from him, trying its hardest to be swallowed by the earth- but, today it was different... The house had felt quite empty as soon as he walked through the door. Sure, there was the hustle and bustle of the house help but their meagre existences didn't count- at least, not in Neji's book.
She was supposed to be at home by now.
It did normally take her a while to get home; after all she did have to make that several mile long journey back home on foot (after he had bribed their chauffer to stop picking her up from school). But, even so she had always come home after an hour- an hour and a half at the latest- early enough to not arouse his father's suspicion. It had been two hours... surely she would have made her way home by now; she wasn't part of any sports groups- she was physically retarded, no hand-eye co-ordination whatsoever- so she couldn't have been at a practice. She wasn't a member of any committee or group of any kind- she was far too shy and self-conscious for that- so couldn't have been at a meeting so... where was she?
Dropping his messenger bag at the foot of the stairs, he quickly thundered up them- eager to check her room, eager to prove his intuition wrong. But even as he treaded up the stairs he knew he was right- the signs were everywhere. Her bag was nowhere in sight, she usually had it sprawled somewhere in the hallway, hastily opened halfway. Her shoes- those scruffy beat up white-turned-greyish brown trainers she insisted on wearing- were not chucked carelessly by the stair case. The subtle scent of her that lingered on the walls (for she always touched the walls she walked by, almost as if they were guiding her, supporting her... as if she were blind) was stale from not being renewed by her touch.
Shoving her bedroom door open he half expected to see her but, instead his eyes met with her unkempt room- her empty unkempt room. With her clothes scattered about and the remnants of her piggy bank scattered haphazardly on the wooden floor, it was all clear to Neji.
She had run away.
The members of the house help muttered silently under the breaths to one another, however they made sure not to breathe a word whenever the young master was around. Usually being around him was like walking on eggshells, however today- they were probably safer had they been bounding up and down a field of landmines. However they could not deny the fact that there was an excitement abuzz all round the house and try as they might they could not suppress. Hinata, the young Madame of the house had run away. To where? Only God knew but, she was gone. It was only a matter of time before the dark well hidden secrets of the household would come tumbling out, they supposed...
And Neji knew this too but as he spoke on the phone to his father that night- for his father was away in Paris on business trip- he lied, (he needed to delay the inevitable) and said that Hinata was fine, happy and safe even though he himself doubted his words. He sealed his tall tale by telling his father that Hinata was too tired to speak, and as he hung up the phone, he all but prayed that Hinata would turn up tomorrow.
If not... he didn't want to think about it
!
...The weaver knits (a people pleaser)
And ugly cloth is beautiful sown
The child naked in the corner-
Fidgets- wary of the weaver's song
The child stands up on shaky feet
Finding within a renewed strength
The weaver frets, but panic subsides-
And the innocent child is swiftly clothed
At first the weaver's cloth feels snug-
But the child is still quite wary
For although clothed, the child is still naked
Simply a naked child, just hastily covered
And then the clothes begin to prick
The naked child then cries with pain-
And the weaver sings its ancient song
"Pick one, knit two and drop."
The weaver knits; the child suffers
Suffocating in the prickly cotton
The weaver smiles at its crafty work
At the Truth tangled in its web of lies
"Pick one, knit two and drop;
Will my lies ever stop?
Who says the truth shall set you free
When the truth itself is caught?
Tell a lie then, tell another-
For Truth is naked and exposed
Why leave yourself so vulnerable?
Take comfort in your deception!"
!
Hinata's face still burned from the event of a few moments ago.
One minute she had been taking off her wet clothes, spreading the sopping clothes on the radiator so that they could dry, and then the next she was being ogled by the annoyed black haired boy who had opened the house door for her.
It felt like ages as she watched helplessly paralysed to the spot as his dark eyes roamed her body. She wrapped her arms her body now at the thought. She was so stupid! Why hadn't she done something! Any other girl would have. She should've slapped him; she should've yelled at him, thrown something at him, she should've turned around for Pete's sake! Anything to make him stop staring. But...
She hadn't ...why...
Was it because the way he had stared at her made her feel like one of the many beautiful paintings she had seen? Was it because his eyes seemed to hold the same awe one had when staring at something divine? What he had seen, held a deeper meaning to her, a meaning he probably didn't even know of but the way he stared at her... it made her feel accepted, loved, invaluable.
By no means was she happy that he had peeked at her, nor was she grateful for the fact he had stared at her near naked body for so long- her feminine dignity and pride felt slightly wounded- she was embarrassed as hell.
Snapping from her daze she quickly wore the clothes he had given her- she quickly pulled them on; just in case he decided he wanted a second showing. Once she had pulled on the clothes, she calmed her beating heart. Making sure that the long sleeves covered her arm and that her hair shrouded her neck, she steeped out of the door only to see a closed fist.
Sasuke was becoming impatient again... For fuck's sake he had just walked in on the girl while she was nearly naked- shouldn't that have been some incentive for her to hurry her ass up! He felt his ears heat up slightly at the thought...He felt bad now, he felt somewhat guilty- he probably shouldn't have walked into the room without knocking.
Oh well, what was done was done. No use crying over spilt milk, as... people who liked using proverbs would say. Freaks that they were, Sasuke snubbed inwardly.
He didn't care that he was being insensitive, he was tired, Itachi still hadn't comeback and God dammit she was taking forever. Facing the door again, he lifted he arm before fisting his hand ready to knock on the door. That is until his fist almost met with a pale face.
Putting his hand down sheepishly, he noted that she had covered herself up pretty well. None of her tattoos could be seen. Nodding toward her, he had no intention about talking about what had happened earlier and he hoped to God that she wasn't the confrontational type. With his resolve set, he made toward the stairs before he felt a hand tugging him back.
Aww, hell she was confrontational type. God surely hated him.
Turning back to the girl, he waited expectantly for her to talk.
"I..." she paused, taking the initiative because he really didn't want to hear her sobbing a soppy life story filled with rants about the plight of women and what not, Sasuke quickly cut in with a sharp, Sorry, even though he didn't sound sorry at all.
She stared at him for a moment in confusion before she spoke again, "Ehh... Thanks?" Nodding his head again Sasuke made towards the stairs before once again he felt the familiar tug on his shirt. Feeling agitated her turned back. "What!" he barked at her. He apologized what did she want now?
"Umm..." she began slightly taken back by his harshness, "Look Sasuke?" she asked uncertainly. He nodded albeit exasperatedly, "Could you please not... What I mean to say is don't...I would." From the look on Sasuke's face she could tell that she was rambling. Closing her eyes she quickly blurted out, "Please Sasuke! Don't tell anyone about what you saw! Especially not Kurenai..."
He stared at her wide- eyed. Was she mad, as if he would tell anyone let alone his older sister. If Kurenai found out what he had done he was going to die... she'd kill him. Noticing the confused look on his face, she bent her head low as if ashamed and continued quietly.
"Please don't tell anyone about my... my ink paintings."
He was shocked but he said nothing. Nodding his head, he walked toward the stairs and this time she made no move to stop him. Together they walked down the stairs and into the kitchen where Kurenai was waiting patiently for them. And as she offered them both a cup of hot chocolate, Sasuke couldn't help but become curious about the secrecy that surrounded the girl.
What was so special about her tattoos that she had to hide them?
!
Mr. Ben Gibbles- even he had to scoff at own his name- was more of a mouse than a man but, it was to be expected with a name like his. After all his parents had named him after the rat from the Thriller movie called "Ben";and they had legally changed their surname to "Gibbles" following the death of their most prized possession- their pet zebra mouse Mr. Gibbles (while they were alive both his parents had had a queer interest- more-like obsession- with the rodent-y creatures, heaven knew why), after being compared to the tiny rodents for so long, Mr. Ben Gibbles couldn't stand them.
But back to the crux of the matter...
Mr Ben Gibbles was more of a mouse than a man, even in his own appearance. His thin angular face, was only emphasized by the large square glasses he wore on the bridge of his nose. His beady eyes were framed by thick, fuzzy (like mould) eyebrows that seemed to be drawn down in a constant sombre scowl. Above his mammoth like brows were thin wrinkles caused probably by his constant frowning. His mouth pursed together thinly but once relaxed stretched out to nearly engulf his whole face. His teeth however, were not bucked- he was nearly certain he would have killed himself if they had- but straight and white, so that when he smiled- with that large mouth of his- he almost resembled a coconut that had been freshly cracked opened- the creamy flesh within it gleaming enticingly. In fact out of all his features his teeth were the only things he was proud of. He was short and stout and his back slightly stooped over- but only subtly, one wouldn't notice unless they were paying particular attention to him. Luckily not many people did.
Even his behaviour was a bit ratty, so to speak. He enjoyed staying in the shadows away from people and their prying eyes. He liked to horde things, he was selfish with his possessions. And, he always seemed to have to watch his tail for fear that it might be cut off...
It was a dark and dreary night; the godforsaken rain was pelting against his bedroom window so thunderously that Ben was having a rough time falling asleep. Scampering down the hall of his dank apartment, he scuttled into the kitchen before raiding the fridge for something to eat. That was his remedy for a sleepless night- nothing made one feel sleepy more than a satisfyingly full stomach.
Pulling out the necessary ingredients, he made himself a sandwich, slapping on some cheese -irony - on to his sandwich. Opening his wide mouth, he generously took a bite of the sandwich, relishing the feeling of having food in his mouth, before his face quickly twisted in disgust at the rancid taste of said food. Something had gone off...
Swallowing the bit of sandwich in his mouth, no use in letting food go to waste, he thought, Ben Gibbles opened the sandwich up, and soon he saw the culprit behind the foul taste in his mouth. The ham. It was beginning to get mouldy... much like his eyebrows.
Feeling a movement from his bowels, Ben hastily dropped the sandwich letting it drop carelessly on the floor before silently scurrying into his bathroom. Dropping his pyjama trousers so that they hung round his ankles, he plopped himself down on the toilet seat ready to deposit his load when he noticed something was off. Feeling a presence beside him, he slowly turned his head to his left.
...Fuck...
Slowly he moved his head forward and blinked his eyes close. Maybe ham had been worse than he thought- not only was it messing with his bowels but maybe also his mind. Yes, that's it. The gun he thought was pointing at his head was only a rancid ham induced hallucination. Feeling relieved at his revelation, Ben let out a sigh before opening his eyes. Turning his head to the left once again he made to confirm his assumption. He gulped... The gun was still there, still pointing at his head, still mocking him...
Bravely the mouse man lifted his eyes to follow the body of the gun, to the hand that held it, up an arm before finally his eyes landed on the face of his assassin.
He felt his blood run cold. Those red eyes... He thought he'd never see them again. Opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water, he blinked a few times before finding his voice. "Hey Itachi," he cursed inwardly as his voice trembled beneath the stoic man's gaze, "What brings you to old Ben's house at this late hour? And how-" he chuckled nervously as the gun remained trained on him, "didjy'a get in? You didn't have to sneak about you know, we're old friends... I woulda let you in!" Even he could tell how fake his voice sounded, surely Itachi could as well. Itachi's eyes curtly flickered to the open bathroom window, which explained how he got in and the slight draft Gibbles was feeling, despite the fact that he was slowly begin to seat under the heated glare of the gun.
There was an awkward silence before Itachi cleared his throat and began to speak. "Don't give me that bull Gibbles, you know exactly why I'm here. After all, I remember specifically seeing you run after I caught you reporting back to your real friends."
Suddenly the sound of breaking glass resounded in the bathroom, soon accompanied by a cruching sound as more unwelcome guests forced their way into the mouse man's home. The discomfort deep in his stomach was forgotten as he stared at the new figures that entered his now cramped bathroom.
Staring at their menacing faces, Ben was thankful that he was still on the toilet seat because he had just shitted himself...
