Pain.
It hurts, it hurts so much and I can't breathe, I can't breathe!
No air, so much pain, why can't I breathe?
What's happening to me?
...
"Mari, you have got to publish this. It's amazing!"
I feel myself blush as Tori continues to gush about my work. I didn't expect a reaction like this. I've never shared my work before, but I made an exception for my last story. It's a tale I wanted to share with my friends. It's also one that doesn't offer a view into my inner angst and issues. I don't write many of those anymore, but I still burn a page or two every once in a while. This is just a story, though.
According to Tori, it's also one of the greatest literary works of our age! Of course, Tori has a tendency to exaggerate. Still, everyone else also think it's good. Maybe even good enough to publish. Wouldn't that be something?
Even so, I feel uncharacteristically shy. The idea of strangers reading my work makes me uncomfortable. Not in the least because most of it is blatantly copied, even if no one here knows the original. The idea of publishing makes me feel like a fraud.
So I shrug.
"You're being too modest," Shiro informs me, stoic as ever.
"It's not that special," I protest because it really isn't. It's fun, but not to enough to get a reaction like this. Sure, it holds emotional value to me, but it doesn't to them.
Tori scoffs, letting me know exactly how much she disagrees with my opinion.
"Not that special, she says. It's a brilliant! A work of art!"
My cheeks burn. She's being ridiculous.
"It's just a story," I say.
"Yes, and Hokage-sama is just a man." This time it's Renji who refutes my protest, rolling his eyes so forcefully I'm surprised they don't fall straight out of their sockets.
"But–"
"No buts," Tori interrupts me. "You're going to find an editor, you're going to publish, and then you're going to become famous across Konoha as the most amazing author ever!"
The others all nod in agreement. Maybe I shouldn't have given in and let them read it. I just didn't expect any of them to be so enthusiastic. Or forceful.
In hindsight, I really should have.
"Just don't forget about us little people when you become famous," Rukia teases with a smile.
"Like I'd let her. I'm going to milk your fame for all it's worth, living on your coattails while you haul in the cash," Renji says with an insufferable smirk.
"A plaque stating that the famous Mari buys her clothes from me would do wonders for my business," Shiro delivers deadpan, looking at me with far too amused eyes.
"Ooh, we could start a new line. Fantastic Fabrics, inspired and endorsed by Takahashi Mariko herself," Rukia plays along without missing a beat. I have to grin at their ridiculousness.
Tori's hand smacking down the table draws all our attention back to her and the satisfied expression she's wearing.
"Then it's settled. You're going to take this to a publisher even if we have to drag you there by the hair," she declares, because why should my own opinion about this matter in any way?
"Guys, really–" I try one last time but of course they don't let me finish.
"It would be better to tie her up. We have a cousin who's a ninja, he can make sure she won't be able to wriggle free." Because naturally Renji would say that. And naturally Rukia gives a cheerful nod of agreement.
"Excellent, that makes everything easier," Tori says. She's bright, enthusiastic, and utterly determined. This is going to happen no matter what.
Seriously, why do I even try?
I let out a defeated sigh and throw up my hands in surrender.
"Fine, I'll do it."
Rukia pats me on the head as if I'm an obedient pet.
"Good girl."
I laugh and push her hand away.
"You guys are such assholes," I tell them all with a grin.
"You love us anyway," Shiro quips with a twitch of his lips, his version of a smile. The uncharacteristic confession startles me, but then have to smile back. It's true, I do love them.
A loud squeal prevents anything else that could've been said and then I'm being embraced so fast it seems Tori moved with ninja speed.
"You won't regret this, you'll see!" Tori's loud voice so near my ears makes me wince, even as I continue to smile.
"I already do." My dry retort makes Renji and Rukia chuckle, while Tori pulls back just enough to aim a pout my way.
Honestly, all this for a modified version of the Lion King.
"I changed my mind," I blurt, nervousness at an all time high. I'm going to be sick.
"Too late." Rukia is much too cheerful. Why did Shiro have to give her the day off? I could've escaped Renji, but his sister is another matter entirely. Vows of future revenge don't work on her.
"No, seriously, I don't want to do this! I like writing, I don't like the idea of random strangers judging it." My protests are ignored completely, the two siblings keeping a firm hold on both my arms as they continue dragging me forward.
"Too bad, you don't get a choice," Renji informs me with a smirk that makes my hand itch with the desire to smack it right off his face. Unfortunately, I can't. Their grip is iron clad.
Despite my protests and struggles, I'm dragged inside the building. I curse my lack of muscles with all my heart.
The man behind the desk stares at us like the bizarre sight we are.
"Hello, sir. We have an appointment to the name of Takahashi Mariko," Rukia says with a cheerful smile, ignoring my continuing struggles to escape. The man gives us another long look, before he lowers his gaze and opens a planner.
"Indeed you do. Sato-san is expecting you. He's down the hallway, second door on your right."
Because of course people in Konoha don't ask questions when confronted with a sight like this. They just gossip about it later.
"Thank you for your help," Rukia says while she and Renji bow, forcing me down with them.
"I'm going to dye your hair a neon green," I hiss at her, already planning on how to do it. My best bet is to steal Renji's spare key to her place without him noticing and switch her brand of shampoo with a bottle filled with dye while she's at work. Then I just need to unobtrusively return Renji's key.
As for Renji, I'll think of a suitable revenge for him later.
"I'm fabulous enough to make that work," Rukia replies as though wearing any form of neon isn't one of her worst nightmares. Renji chuckles like the asshole he is. They resume forcefully marching me along.
As we reach our destination, I give in to the inevitable. Naturally, both Rukia and Renji notice. They share a much too smug look.
Renji knocks, waits for permission to enter, opens the door, and pushes me inside. With enough force that I almost fall over but I manage to turn it into a spin just in time, turning around so I face the door. The last I see of my oh so supportive friends is them cheerfully waving me on before they shut the door in my face, locking me in. I have no doubt they'll be guarding the exit to make sure I don't escape.
Taking a fortifying breath, I turn around and meet the gaze of an older man. He looks deeply unimpressed. Understandable, given at my unconventional entrance. Or maybe it's my lack of manners.
"Takahashi Mariko, I presume?" He sounds only a little disapproving. Too bad.
Swallowing my groan, I bow. I'm here now, might as well see it through. I'll never hear the end of it if I don't.
Seriously though, I send out one copy. I didn't actually expect it to inspire an interest like this.
My very own book is displayed behind the window. I'm so choked up I almost cry.
"I love you guys, you're the best," I manage to get out, overwhelmed in the best of ways.
Renji bumps my shoulder gently.
"We know," he says with a warm grin.
"What would you do without us?" Rukia winks. She makes her green hair look fabulous, she really does. I'm so glad that I decided to go with a darker shade than neon. Her meddling is part of what led to this wonderful moment in time. Punishing her for it with neon would've been the height of injustice.
"Live a sad and dull life," Shiro answers the rhetorical question in his usual deadpan way. I chuckle.
"Enough chitchat, we have a book to buy!" Tori exclaims, bright and bubbly.
"Why do we have to buy it? You should give us a copy. We worked hard enough for it," Renji says, making Rukia roll her eyes in the way only her brother can inspire.
"We're being supportive. Besides, with Mari signing it, it'll be worth a fortune in the future. You can always sell it later and make back your money. Cheapskate."
"I'm not a cheapskate." Renji's denial is both expected and ignored.
"I'm going to display it above the counter and make everyone who enters bask in the brilliance that is the Lion Lord," Tori announces, making me feel even more mushy and warm.
"Less talking, more buying," Shiro orders, getting things back on track. Rukia nods in agreement.
"He's right, we're blocking the entrance."
"Then let's go!" With that, Tori hooks an arm through Renji's and drags him into the store. Rukia follows along at a more sedate pace.
I look through the window a moment longer. Look at the cover of my book. My book that's being sold in a real bookstore. Because people think it's good enough for that.
I feel overwhelmed in the best of ways all over again.
Shiro's hand comes to rest on my shoulder, making me turn my gaze towards him. He's giving me as soft a look as he is capable of.
"Daisuke would be proud," he says. The sentiment warms me further, even as it also causes a stab of grief. I still miss Daisuke. Miss his kindness and endless patience. But it's no longer as painful as it used to be. After two years, his loss has become a scar instead of an open wound. Still, hearing Shiro say this makes me feel bittersweet.
It's the good kind of bittersweet.
I raise my own hand and give his a gentle squeeze.
"Thanks, Shiro," I say softly.
"You're welcome," he returns, voice just as soft and one corner of his lips a fraction higher than the other. His version of a warm smile.
I have the best friends ever.
"I can't believe you quit." Tori is actually hurt. Which is ridiculous, I haven't done anything to deserve that kind of response.
"I didn't quit, I'm just working part-time now," I deny. She's overreacting.
"You quit!" she accuses again.
"I did not," I deny again, starting to get annoyed by her reaction.
"Yes, you did."
"Did not."
"Did too."
"Did– you know what, I'm not doing this," I decide. If I don't, this will drag on forever.
Tori pouts and crosses her arms, still looking at me like I just murdered a puppy. I'm not liking the guilt this inspires, not one bit. There's nothing for me to be guilty about!
"You're overreacting, Tori. She'll still be here every day. Just not as much as before," Renji supports me as he continues setting the tables.
"Thank you!" I exclaim, happy for his back up.
Tori's pout becomes even more pronounced. Someone her age shouldn't be able to look that childish. She's older than me, for god's sake.
"You abandoned me. How could you?" she demands like I stabbed her in the back.
"Then why the hell did you agree? You're the owner, you could've said no," I point out more sharply than intended, but seriously, this is ridiculous.
"I didn't think you were being serious!" Tori retorts like it's supposed to be a valid argument.
"I brought over a new contract for you to approve! How did that not seem serious?" I counter incredulously. Did she think I waded through the battlefield that is Konoha's legal administration just for fun?
"I thought it was a joke!"
Apparently she did. I open my mouth to point out the absurdity of that statement but Renji speaks before I can.
"Ladies, you do realize we almost have to open, right? Now is not the best time to argue about this."
I sigh and bring up a hand to rub my eyes. He's right of course. I just hadn't expected Tori to react like this.
"I thought you wanted me to write more stories," I say while lowering my hand.
"Not if it means abandoning the Dancing Dragon!" Tori shoots back with a glare. As always, it's surprisingly intimidating. Tori isn't the type to glare, but when she does, she does it with as much conviction as she does everything else.
"I'm not abandoning anything or anyone!" I exclaim, fed up with this entire situation. "I just need more time to write! I've told you how hard my editor is pushing me! And may I point out that I wouldn't even be in this situation if it wasn't for you pressuring me to publish in the first place!"
Tori wilts, all her anger gone and her eyes becoming glassy. Oh shit.
"Stop, don't be like that," I plead. If there's one thing I can't handle, it's tears.
Tori sniffles.
"Look, I don't want to quit, but I don't have the time to both work here the entire day and still write enough to satisfy the demon from hell," I try, starting to feel a little frantic.
Her lips tremble.
"I'd have to stop meeting the others, no more free time, nothing but writing. I enjoy writing, it shouldn't be a chore."
A sob breaks through.
"Not that I don't enjoy working here, I do!" I blabber, officially in panic mode. "It's why I don't want to quit! Just, work a little less?"
Oh shit, oh shit, there's actual tears now.
Renji lets out an annoyed sigh before I can continue my blabbering. He marches over with a determined expression and halts next to a sniffling Tori.
He smacks the back of her head. Not hard enough to hurt but certainly hard enough to be felt.
"You're not only being selfish, you're being childish. Now get up and put on the water. We've got customers waiting," he orders without a shred of compassion. Tori turns a wounded and utterly betrayed look his way, eyes still glassy with tears. I'm so jealous of the way Renji ignores it with ease, going back to work instead.
His reaction makes Tori sigh. The sound is long, loud, and so mournful that it seems like she's just been told her entire family has died.
"Fine. Fine! But you better be the best part-time waitress to ever exist," she warns with a fierce glare and an accusing finger aimed my way. As always, Renji's peculiar brand of affection works wonders.
I smile, relieved we've managed to sort this out.
"That I can do." I enjoy being a waitress after all.
It lets me interact with the insanity that is Konoha's population in a fun and stress free way.
"I have to admit, I would've guessed you'd enjoy the Lion Lord more. It's more popular with boys than the Little Mermaid," I say as I lean on the counter. Coal black eyes look back at me from a placid expression.
"I found the tale of a girl determined to see her dreams come true no matter the personal sacrifice, no matter that she would be alone in a strange and unknown land, both touching and inspiring."
"And it has nothing to do with the cute and fluffy love story I somehow managed to write," I say dryly to the hidden romantic in front of me.
"Of course not," he denies as calmly as he does everything else.
Shisui laughs and gracefully bumps the shoulder of the younger boy sitting next to him. He gives me a mischievous look.
"Don't believe him, Mari-chan. I caught him crying his eyes out after he finished the wedding scene."
Everyone who knows Itachi even a little would know that Shisui is lying through his teeth. Doesn't make it any less amusing.
"I didn't cry."
I never would've been able to detect the hint of indignity hidden beneath Itachi's placid reply without Shiro's long friendship. It makes me grin.
"Of course not," I say patronizingly and resist the urge to mess up his hair. Itachi is ridiculously cute. After he gets through puberty, he's going to be one hell of a heart breaker.
It's unbelievably horrifying that a boy of eleven is already a ninja. Shisui being a shinobi at fourteen is only a little less so. But I've learned to live with this awful reality by now. Not like I can do anything about it.
"More tea?" I offer innocently. Shisui chuckles, while Itachi's expression remains placid as ever. He's definitely not pouting, nope, not at all.
These two kids are my favorite customers.
I've published four stories. I still can't believe it. Four. Stories. And they're popular! So popular I'd be able to quit working at the Dancing Dragon and still earn enough to make a living! Though it would be a poor one. But who cares! I could if I want to!
There's a reason Disney is such a cash cow. Was a cash cow? Whatever, not important. What's important is that I've published four stories!
"To four stories!" I exclaim. We all clink our cups together and throw them back once more.
"See, I told you. I knew you'd be amazing," Tori giggles, well over tipsy. I laugh loudly, the sake already having effect on me as well. I feel so very bubbly. Because I have four stories!
"I'm awesome!" I cheer, and get agreements from the entire table. I love these guys so much.
"Just think, five years ago you couldn't even write your own name," Shiro teases. His flushed cheeks are the only indication of how drunk he already is.
His remark makes Rukia cackle loudly, while Renji lets out a hilarious little giggle.
"And now I'm a famous author! Suck on that you stupid kanji!" Victory is sweet.
I refill our cups and lift mine in another toast.
"To victory!" I crow. The others all lift their cups before we empty them yet again. This evening is worth the upcoming hangover. I feel at home in a way I hadn't thought could ever be possible again. Except it's possible! I'm here with my friends, and we're having fun and we're celebrating and I love these guys so much. And I have four stories!
Life is wonderful.
I stare down the alley. Blink a few times. Rub my eyes to make sure I'm not seeing things. But no, the kid is still slumped next to the dumpster. He's either trying to hide ineffectively, or he just doesn't care about being seen.
I try to convince myself that he's simply out too late, that he lost track of time while playing. Seeing as the kid looks like he's planning to stay here for the foreseeable future, this doesn't work. I have a bad feeling about this.
What on earth is Uzumaki Naruto doing out here so late?
I should move on. This has nothing to do with me. If I leave right now, I can put this entire thing behind me and keep on blissfully ignoring the fact that I'm living in a fictional world. I've long since made peace with living in a dictatorship ruled by magical ninja, but the fictional part is something I still do my best not to think about too deeply.
A roar erupts from the alley. No stomach should ever sound like that but especially not that of a child. Which means my conscience won't allow me to leave. Damn.
"Kid, what are you doing here?" I call out. The blonde lets out a startled yelp, before he scrambles to his feet and hides behind the dumpster. A small whiskered face pokes out from the side, bright blue eyes narrowed with suspicion.
He's almost painfully cute.
"What're you doing here?" He also sounds much too accusing. I'm not the one hiding behind a dumpster.
I raise an unimpressed brow.
"I'm walking home. Shouldn't you be doing that as well?"
His eyes narrow further until they're nothing but barely opened slits.
"Why do you care?" That really shouldn't sound as heartbreaking as it does.
"Call it being a decent human being," I manage to return lightly instead of grimacing because of all the discomforting feels. "Empathy for strangers and all that."
For some reason, my answer only serves to make him even more suspicious, and thus, even more cute. Be still my heart.
"You talk funny."
That's what the kid decides to focus on? To be fair, my accent is still pretty strong even after all these years. Still, really not the important issue here.
"Indeed I do. Now are you going to tell me what you're doing here or what?" I demand, refocusing on the matter at hand.
"None of your business!" he yells back, petulant in the way only children can be. I roll my eyes. He's going to make this as difficult as possible, isn't he?
"Maybe, but I'm here anyway. So I'll ask again, what are you doing here?"
I wonder how many times I'm going to have to repeat myself.
"What's empathy mean?" he returns instead of answering my question, because why should he make this easy in any way?
"The ability to both imagine and understand what someone other than yourself is feeling," I explain. "You know, caring about other people's feelings," I elaborate at his still puzzled look.
The kid scoffs, derisive and way too bitter for someone so tiny.
"Like you care."
Because of course it's not enough to break my heart, he has to go and stomp on the pieces as well.
"Yeah, well, I do. Now answer the damn question." Was that too harsh?
"I don't want to!"
Apparently not. I sigh and resist the urge to rub my eyes.
"Look, kid, I'm just worried. You're way too young to be out here this late. So I'll ask one last time. What are you doing here, and shouldn't you be getting home?"
Vivid eyes go wide with disbelief before they fill with tears. Oh no. No, I'm not dealing with a crying child, no way, absolutely not.
God, please don't let him cry.
"Liar!" he screams, the reaction as unexpected as it is bewildering. Before I can even attempt to regain my wits, he bolts, running by me so fast I have no chance of stopping him. Of course I'm still too shocked to even try.
As I watch his disappearing back, I can only wonder one thing.
What the hell just happened?
The next morning, I see a tuft of hair poke out from behind the dumpster. Even dirty, the color is unmistakable.
No way. Why on earth is the brat back?
I step closer so I can look behind the dumpster. When I do, the entire situation becomes even more bewildering. It also becomes horrifying. Because the kid is sleeping. In an alley.
What the ever loving hell?
I hesitate. Part of me wants to keep walking, wants to just ignore this entire situation. Except I can't leave him here, he's only wearing a shirt and shorts for god's sake. Doesn't the kid realize he's going to get sick?
I crouch down and gently poke his shoulder. It makes him snort and mumble something indecipherable, but he remains asleep.
Seeing him up close only reinforces the homeless urchin act he has going one. His clothes are dirty and he smells like he hasn't showered in days. Both of which can be explained by him sleeping in a damn alley of all things.
Does he sleep here regularly? No, impossible. This is Naruto, the hero of that comic my brother liked so much. The main character wouldn't be homeless. Not when he's not even six years old. Right?
...It does sound like a tragic origin story.
No, that wouldn't happen here. Konoha is many things, a lot of them horrifying when thought about too deeply, but never let it be said that it doesn't care for children in its own unique way. Kids can wander the streets without fear of, well, anything. Serious accidents are magically prevented, courtesy of passing ninja keeping an eye on them. It's one of the unspoken rules of this world.
Except this fact doesn't take into account that Naruto is a main character. By definition, he's an exception to the rules. Maybe even to the rules of childcare.
I've never hated the fact that I haven't read the comic as much as I do right now. Really, it's sheer luck that I even know enough to recognise the kid as the main character.
Then again, living in Konoha, it's kind of impossible not to know about the brat. Or to know that he's special.
Right now, he's just a child.
I gather my courage and shake him softly by the shoulder. It feels disturbingly thin.
The kid frowns and slowly opens those vivid eyes. He blinks up at me owlishly, before bright blue widens to an impossible size.
"AAARGH!"
His scream makes me wince and release my grip, reeling back as I try to escape the assault on my hearing.
"Good morning to you too," I snap with a scowl, rubbing my ringing ears.
The kid curls into a ball. Damn it, children shouldn't ever look so scared.
I do my best to even out my expression, not wanting to frighten him further, and I make sure my voice is calm and steady.
"Why were you sleeping here?" I don't have much hope that he'll answer me but the question still needs to be asked.
I'm right, the kid keeps quiet. I feel my own eyes narrow as blue orbs flicker to the side.
"Don't even think about it," I warn. I might've been too shocked last night, but I'm not right now. If he tries to run, I'll catch him.
The kid scowls.
"What're you doing here?"
Of course he doesn't answer my question, that would make things far too easy.
"Answer my question and I'll answer yours," I try to bribe. It doesn't work, just earns me a suspicious glare. It's completely unfair how cute he makes that look.
"I don't want to!"
If I didn't think he'd take the opportunity to run for it, I would rub my eyes with annoyance.
"Okay, let me guess. You ran away from home." That's the only possibility not involving child abuse that makes even a lick of sense. I'm really hoping I'm right about this.
His deepening scowl is answer enough. Bingo.
Thank god.
"Kid, you need to go back. People are going to be worried sick," I tell him, so grateful that the brat isn't homeless. I don't think my heart could've survived that.
Except blue eyes fill with tears. Head it off, head it off!
"Whatever the argument's about, I'm sure they didn't mean it," I gamble desperately. Anything to prevent him from crying.
I fail. Tears start falling without restraint. A strangled noise escapes me.
The kid sniffles and lowers his head while hugging his knees close. It's not an exaggeration to say that this is a physically painful sight.
"No one cares about me."
My heart shatters.
"That's not true," I try to comfort but it only serves to make his head snap up so he can subject me to a furious glare. Combined with his tears, his expression should be classified as a lethal weapon.
"Yes it is! No one does! You don't either! And I don't care, I don't need them, I don't need anyone. So leave me alone!"
Dear god, I think part of me has actually died.
This will not stand.
"Where's your home? Never mind, you're not going to answer. But you're an orphan, right?"
The flinch that result in feels like a knife between the ribs.
"So, the orphanage," I conclude, valiantly doing my best to ignore the systematic demise of my heart.
The kid somehow manages to curl into himself even more. I sigh and stand up, looking down at him as I debate on what to do. Well, there's really only one possible course of action. Tori will just have to forgive my lateness.
I swoop down and pick up the brat, making sure to keep his arms and knees bound by my embrace.
"What the– let go of me! You crazy old lady, put me down!"
Old? I'm twenty-five, thank you very much.
"You're kind of rude, you know that?" I tell him as I continue to ignore his protests and struggles. I start the long walk to the orphanage, located on the other side of the village. It isn't easy, he's a slippery one. He's also much too thin. Children are supposed to be soft and chubby, not thin and scrawny.
What the hell are they feeding him? For that matter, how on earth did he manage to run away in the first place?
"Let me get this straight. You didn't notice that he was gone for an entire day?"
Sayuki, the matron of the orphanage, scowls, taking offense at my words. It's completely intended that way. What kind of caretaker doesn't realize that one of her charges has disappeared for an entire day?
"In case it escaped your notice, we have a great number of children under our care," she says, so very prim and proper way.
It's true, the orphanage is filled to bursting. Every adult I've seen is run ragged by an unholy amount of children. It would be easy to lose track of one in this madness.
It's no excuse.
"He was sleeping on the streets! A five year old! What kind of orphanage are you running here?" I can't believe she's actually trying to excuse this.
"I'm five-and-a-half!" the brat protests loudly from where he's standing next to me. I give him a deadpan look before I return to condemning Sayuki with my glare. Her own scowl deepens in return.
"He always runs away, and he always comes back when he gets hungry. We have neither the time nor the manpower to search for him every time he decides to throw a temper tantrum."
"You don't have the– What the hell do you think orphanages are for? It's to take care of kids who can't take care of themselves! If you aren't doing that, you aren't doing your job right." Seriously, it isn't complicated. If she doesn't have the manpower, she should just hire some ninja to search for the kid. Prices have lowered enough for that to be easy even if she's on a tight budget. That's ignoring the fact that ninja would probably do it for free, given that the brat is the only thing standing between the Kyuubi rampaging.
"I can so take care of myself!" Both Sayuki and I ignore the brat. Sayuki lifts her chin imperiously.
"If it offends you so much, then you adopt him and take care of him instead." It's a challenge, pure and simple.
It takes the wind out of my sails, my shoulders slumping with defeat. I bring up a hand to rub my eyes. Yeah, that's not going to happen.
"I'm really not the maternal type," I mutter. The thought of being responsible for a child like that is terrifying. I hadn't even been able to keep my pet hamster alive. Me plus a kid would equal disaster.
"Then stop telling me how to do my job." Her command is cutting and final. I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose, before I look down at the brat. He's still pouting petulantly.
I sigh. I've been doing that much too often today.
Crouching down in front of the brat, I give him my most serious look.
"Brat. Stop running away. It's not healthy," I order, no matter that I don't have any hope of him obeying.
"Why do you care?" This time there's something desperate hidden underneath his words. Something that tugs at my heartstrings yet again.
"Because you're a child." It really isn't more complicated than that. "You deserve to be happy and safe."
Again, tears fill his eyes. Why do I keep making this kid cry? It's horrifying.
Releasing another sigh, I lift a hand to ruffle his hair, ignoring the dirt and grime. He freezes beneath my touch.
"You be good now.?" With those words, I stand up and walk out of the office, resolutely not looking back.
I've had enough distressing feels for one day.
"I can't believe you were late because of the demon brat," Renji repeats yet again while scowling my way. I valiantly keep on ignoring him.
"Leave her alone, I think it's sweet." At least Tori is being supportive.
"Sweet? You know what it did, how can you–"
"He's a five year old child. What was I supposed to do, just leave him there?" I snap, fed up with his behavior. Yes, I understand why, but damn it all, Naruto is not the Kyuubi. He's a child. Children aren't supposed to live on the streets. It's as simple as that.
"Yes!" Renji yells back, vicious and hateful in a way only this topic can inspire. "Maybe he would've done us all a favor and died."
I stare. I can't believe he just said that.
"Renji..." Tori is just as shocked as I am.
Very carefully, I put down the kettle I'd been washing. I'm afraid I might throw it at his head otherwise.
"I'm going to overlook that because I know you've been through more than anyone should," I say in what is an even voice through the greatest of efforts. "But Renji, I swear, if you ever say that again, if you ever again wish for the death of an innocent child, I will stab you in the balls with a rusted knife. Do I make myself clear?"
Renji looks so conflicted, as if part of him can't believe he said that either. But also as if part of him completely means it. After a few tense moments, he gives a curt nod.
The silence that follows is heavy and strained.
It's going to be a long day.
"...Why are you back?" I demand slowly, unable to believe what I'm seeing.
The brat shuffles his feet. Not even a week and he's already back in the exact same alley. At least he looks clean this time. Though he still refuses to answer. He just keeps standing there instead, looking like a hopeful puppy.
But it's neither too late in the evening nor too early in the morning. I'm not responsible for this. I'm not.
Nodding to myself, I spin on my heel and keep on walking. I make it three houses past, before I stop, let out a loud groan, and stomp back to the alley.
Stupid conscience.
The brat is still standing in the exact same spot, looking so forlorn he just might as well stab me in the back. I'm sure it would be less painful. Fortunately for my health, he perks up at my return.
I cross my arms and scowl down at him, letting him know exactly how annoyed I am to do this.
"Did you run away again?" That's the most important thing here.
He hesitates and shuffles his feet some more. Why does he have to be so damn cute? This would be so much less painful if he wasn't.
He doesn't answer but I'm not going to give in this time. I keep quiet and stare the five year old down. How mature of me. It works, though.
"No," he finally mumbles, so clearly lying that it isn't even funny. I can feel a headache coming on.
"You..." I flail an arm, unable to articulate a response. Seriously? Seriously?
I look up at the sky, praying for strength. When I look down again, I'm sucker punched by an expression filled with a breathtaking amount of hope.
Too. Adorable. It isn't a compliment.
"All right. I can do this," I encourage myself and pick up the brat as his expression changes to one of confusion. At least he doesn't struggle this time. Instead his arms hesitantly come up around my neck in a tentative embrace.
Shut up, heart!
I resolutely start marching towards the orphanage, determined to get him back as soon as possible so I can forget this entire incident ever happened. But of course his stomach starts growling before we get there. At least it isn't an unholy roar this time.
"When is the last time you ate?" I demand. It comes out more sharply than intended, courtesy of the headache that's broken through.
"Dunno. An hour, I guess," he mumbles, vivid eyes observing me with a wary delight. Effortlessly reaching inside my chest and strangling my heart.
I give him an incredulous look. One hour, and his stomach already sounds like that? Just how much does this kid need to eat?
I sigh, exasperated with myself. Screw my weakness for all things cute.
Looking around, I spot a grocery shop nearby. There's some fruit on the stands outside. Good enough.
Walking over, I shift my hold on the brat a little, pick up two apples, and march inside. The gaze of the woman behind the counter flickers rapidly between me and the brat, before she looks at me like I've sprouted two heads. I can't find it within myself to even pretend to care. If she has a problem with me carrying the demon brat, she can go choke on it.
Thankfully, she keeps quiet.
I grab my wallet and manage to pull out enough money after some one-handed fumbling.
"Keep the change," I tell her. It startles her out of her shock and she opens her mouth. Presumably to say something but I don't stay long enough to find out what.
When we're back on the street, I tug at the brat's arm until he lets go of my neck. I push an apple into his hand.
"Eat," I order while resolutely keeping my gaze on the street in front of me instead of the brat. I just know those eyes have turned into lethal weapons once more.
The sound of munching reaches my ears. When the sounds stop, I give him the second apple. He eats that one in silence as well. Honestly, this kid.
He keeps quiet the rest of the way. I'm glad. I just want this entire thing to be over.
Finally, the orphanage comes into view. Not a moment too soon, my back is starting to hurt. Muscled I am not.
I put the brat down and point towards the building.
"Go inside," I order but of course the brat doesn't listen. Instead he aims those lethal weapons my way. He looks desperately hopeful. For what, I don't know, but that doesn't affect the sheer power of his weaponized cuteness. I rub my eyes to escape the view.
"Brat, go inside. And don't leave again."
He doesn't obey, just keeps looking at me. Mortally wounding me without any remorse whatsoever.
I spin on my heel and start walking away. After a few paces, I stop and look over my shoulder.
He's still standing there but now he looks like a puppy. A kicked one.
Just go. Keep on walking, you've done your good deed, now leave.
My feet carry me back. Traitors.
It makes the brat perk up with sucker punching hope. I crouch down in front of him. Up close, the staggering power of his sheer adorableness somehow manages to become even greater.
I put my hand on the top of his head and put enough pressure on it to make him turn around and face the orphanage.
"Go inside," I order again, though not as harshly as before. It's a lot easier to look at his back, the intensity of the assault on my heart lessened by a huge amount.
Messing up his hair on impulse, I stand up and give him a gentle push forward. It makes him stumble a little, before looks over his shoulder with a disbelieving delight that's even more powerful than his kicked puppy mode. I somehow manage to narrow my eyes with warning and point towards the entrance.
"Inside!" I command in a raised voice. The brat finally bolts towards the doors. He opens them, but then he halts and turns to face me again.
He gives me the most breathtaking, most beautiful, most adorable smile in existence. It's like the sun breaking through where before there had only been darkness. My poor heart melts into a puddle of goo.
With the greatest of efforts, I manage another warning glare. For some reason, it makes that sunshine smile grow even brighter. Then he finally slips inside the building and shuts the door. Thank god, now I can finally put this entire thing behind me.
"No. I'm not doing this again."
This time it hasn't even been three days, yet here he is. Standing in the same damn alley and looking like a hopeful puppy once more.
I rub my eyes, desperately praying this is just some hallucination my mind has cooked up. But no, he's still here.
"...This is going to become a thing, isn't it?" It's a rhetorical question. One that makes the brat beam like the sun. I let out a defeated sigh, giving in to the inevitable.
"Fine. But I'm not carrying you, you're way too heavy." I have to set some boundaries, if only to spare my back.
The brat's sunshine smile turns into an affronted expression.
"I'm not fat!" he exclaims. Apparently he isn't mute anymore.
"True, you're way too scrawny," I agree. "But I'm lazy and don't feel like carrying you across the village. Especially if you're going to keep doing this. I'd break my back."
The brat looks horrified, making me snort.
"Figure of speech. I wouldn't actually break my back." I could potentially develop a hernia, though. So, no carrying the brat back to the orphanage. Not when it's already clear that this is going to become a regular thing.
I hold out a hand for him to take.
"Come on, let's get this over with."
He stares at my hand like he's never seen one before. Or rather, like no one's ever offered one to him.
I force myself to roll my eyes and mentally curse my weakness for all things cute.
"I haven't got all day, brat. Let's go."
He hesitantly comes closer, before his own hand comes up with agonizing slowness. It's like he's expecting me to yank my hand back and say it's all a joke.
Will this kid continue breaking my heart every time we meet? No, I'll built up immunity if I keep being exposed. Of course I will.
When his hand finally grips mine, he melts my heart into a puddle of goo with another sunshine smile. I gently tug him along and start walking.
"Did you have lunch at least?" I ask in an effort to distract myself from all the feels.
"Nope," he cheerfully informs me. Cheeky brat. I give him a halfhearted glare. His answering grin is wide and unrepentant.
"Fine. I'll buy you some dango or something." I won't be buying him unhealthy things all the time, but right now I'm feeling vicious. If the orphanage doesn't want him hyped up on sugar, they should've kept a better eye on him.
His grin grows even larger. Combined with his whiskers, it makes him look incredibly foxy.
I need make sure Renji never sees him like this. Need to make sure he never sees Naruto in general, really.
"Hey, hey, what's your name?" he demands. I blink down at him with confusion, before I mentally go over our previous encounters and realize that I never told him my name. Huh.
"Mary. Well, Mariko, but my friends call me Mary." Everyone does. I'm lucky that my 'official' name makes it seem like my real one is a logical nickname.
The brat stops moving so suddenly I almost don't notice in time. When I look down at him to find out why, I immediately wish I hadn't.
Those eyes. Oh god, stop looking at me like that!
"We're friends?" The desperately hopeful whisper eradicates what remains of my heart.
"Sure, brat, we are," I say in a much too soft voice. I would curse my weakness for all things cute again, except he's giving me a small bashful smile that somehow outshines the sun itself. It makes it impossible to regret my words.
The brat lets go of my hand and surges forward, hugging my leg like he's a particularly stubborn weed.
I give up.
Letting out a sigh, I reach down to ruffle his hair. It's addictive to do so. The wild locks are even softer than they look.
"Come on, Naruto, let's get you home."
The brat jerks up his head and looks at me with impossibly wide eyes, before he beams like the sun.
"Okay, Meiri!" His pronunciation of my name is a lot closer to the real thing than most ever bother.
I finally allow myself to smile back. It actually makes him beam even brighter.
"...You do realize you'll have to let go of me, right?" I ask when he doesn't make a move to stop clinging to my leg.
The brat gains a mischievous look and hugs my leg even tighter.
"No!" he exclaims with a foxy grin. I can't help the rueful twist of my lips. Such a cheeky brat.
I start walking again while dragging my leg along, and by extension, the brat as well. The giggles he lets out in return make me feel all mushy and warm.
Maybe this won't be so bad after all.
...
Subject:
Takahashi Mariko
Personal Information:
Female
Birth Date: 2 May, 30 ME
Konoha native
Father: Takahashi Daisuke (deceased)
Mother: Takahashi Rumiko (deceased)
Civilian upbringing and education
Waitress at tea house, the Dancing Dragon
Author of literary series, Once Upon A Time
(see Personal History)
Distinguishing attributes:
Unique speech pattern, vowels bitten back and consonants drawn out
Permanently damaged chakra system from the Kyuubi Attack
(see Medical Records)
Observation:
Jinchuuriki regularly seeks the subject out. Subject buys the Jinchuuriki food and returns him to the orphanage. No deviation of pattern has been observed so far.
Subject's behavior appear to be motivated by protective feelings towards children in general, and growing affection for the Jinchuuriki in particular. No visible interest in the Jinchuuriki's burden.
(see Observation Log)
Assessment:
Emotional attachment between the subject and the Jinchuuriki will continue to increase. Subject will gain moral authority over the jinchuuriki. Subject will not consciously abuse this authority. Subject will provide a positive social influence on the Jinchuuriki.
(see Threat Assessment)
Conclusion:
Subject poses no immediate threat. No intervention is needed at this time.
AN: This fic is inspired by Dreaming of Sunshine, written by the amazing silverqueen right here on FF. If you haven't read it yet, go do so right now. I promise you won't regret it.
