Moonlight
Kakashi
Oh man, for the love of Orochimaru's lacy pantywaist, she is hot on my heels. Chasing me like silent paparazzi. When I turn my head, she's gone with the wind.
The cherry blossoms bloom early this year, and everywhere I go, I see her. No avoiding or hiding away.
The alcohol stinks my blood and here I am, hormones raging, heart pounding, hands restless, body like an empty shell yearning for casual love. My heart is also hollowed out; the hermit crab has left for a cleaner habitat, mine is crowded with filthy remnants of erratic flings. The blasé love which taunts me from one night stands disparate so quickly, two hours later, I am prowling on the streets, feeling all scratched-out like one of those un-won lottery card. I hate the loneliness I never wished to experience. It is the kind of loneliness whereby the season's festival in full fledge, and people are flocking from all directions but a part of you feels empty. This is one of the silent killers jutsu can never land a fatal blow on.
This is quite the single life I lead. The lonely path I embark since everyone died out on me. I hate the loneliness; the bane of being a sole survivor. The only pride I allow myself is when one of my students excels in his/her skills. Even a hint of it, my heart will be singing all day. Everyone assumes that I'm this aloof snowman, emotions never openly displayed. So they judge me, like we're in a judicial court. And they judge me, denounce me guilty, a sinner like Pa.
What kind of sensei, am I? This question annoys of the hell out of me.
One of a kind.
Oh yeah, I can always take on an Asuma-personality and behave like him. When Kunerai's on a mission, he swaggers to a bar, like a showy top-notch wanker, grabs the hottest girl he can find, and then whisks her off to any flashing neon-light love hotel populating the red light district in a bounty hunter- way.
Like Sasuke's flaming arse I am like that. I have my morals and ninja codes.
Well, most of the time.
So as I stride across the street, hands in my pocket, damn hot girl dangling off my other arm like she's the latest handbag, I can see her from the corner of my eye. Her shoulder length pink hair is sticking from the corner of the wall, each strand dyed neon in the waning moonlight, swaying and mockingly beckoning me. I can practically smell the almond scent emitting from her, dimming the surroundings till I see nothing but the little head from the corner.
My new arm accessory is talking dirty into my ear, things we can do at her apartment, how much of a good lover she assumes I am. Her voice is like a buzz in the deafening night. She must have picked a few techniques from Make-Out Tactics, because she imagines half-walking in those million inch long heels and half-groping my legs with her own will turn me on. She thinks these naughty things will make me horny, so we can have sex standing up in public, behind some nuclear waste-free garbage bins and the next morning she will be hooked into the phone, boasting of her expeditions and tigress prowess with the son of suicidal 'White Fang' or maybe the ex-ANBU with the special sharingan eye, she will nickname me. Eh, no. If I wanted an experienced whore, I could always get a couple of recommendations from the self-acclaimed legendary sannin.
I stop in my tracks, whip my head to glance at the corner of the street. The little head is no more there. Or maybe a pint too much has caused the illusion. By now, the girl is moaning, making low animal noises. She doesn't realize she is making a fool of herself. She is throwing herself at me like I'm this dirty old man who will foolishly take her as a mistress.
I get pickled after giant slugs of sake. My head's spinning. Not in the clearest frame of mind.
A while ago she is saying, I am so bored. And you are so hot, my brain's on fire. Her brightly colored western cocktail is swirling like any vortex in a storm. The stem of the glass clinks inconsistently with Japanese infused techno beat. I want to tell her that her parents will cry if she sleeps with men when she is lonely. There is a constant stream of cigar smoke consuming oxygen like compressed effervescent- not a place for nice girls like her. But on autopilot, I snake my sleeved arm through her slender waist and say Come on. A smile lights up her heavily made-up face. She grins like a kid. The twilight in the bar hides our identity which makes me relieved. For if Gai happens to catch me, he will go tsking for Konoha village. What the hell is the matter with me? I feel abused. I am an adult, a full timer on manhood tablets, and yet fearing this certified professional tskker. It's really appalling.
I ask her How much? She gives me a blank look, hands stop swinging mine. So I try again. How much? Her brows wrinkles. How much for what? I don't wish to say it so directly, but I do anyway. How much for you to get laid? It is starting to sound like one of those god-damn nursery rhymes where the lyrics are annoying repetitive and dictating. Listen, you. I. Am. Not. One. Of. Them. Her tongue lolls comically around as she enunciates each word. I look at her snow white skin, so translucent they gleam even in the dark, thinking that she belongs to the category of older girls who fucked for money to buy imported make-up, first-grade collagen, hand-painted kimonos and twenty-thousand yen perfumed sand baths. Her eyes are unblinking. Her lips don't quiver or pout like when I was chatting her up by the bar counter. She is looking at me like my late Pa did whenever he thought he was taking me in hand. Sorry, I say, taking hold of her hand once again. There is an appealing purity to this game they call sex. She says she is twenty-three, like hell she is. I am a shameless philander of mobile love, it irks me I can't be bothered to put a stop to my addiction.
What does she see in me? What does little Sakura sees in me? There is a mirror placed in the hallway of the academy entrance. Normally, I would avoid it, because if I look into the slanted reflection, oh man, what I see is my questionable oval face, ruffled hair, a tone darker than the fourth Hokage's and expressionless, heavily lidded eyes. You look sleepy, Gai always tell me in his stern, commander-friendly voice. And he gives me the exasperated hands-in-the-air action, like I'm hopeless and far too anal to be a person. So I reciprocate his act of kindness and frowning at him and acting like I am too caught in my happy daze to engage in a conversation with him. Sometimes, it riffs me so much, I am filled with this overwhelming surge to strangle him and yell Shut the fuck up, you walking eyebrows! Of course, I can't be bothered to cause mayhem like these. Even the sharps sunbeams which blind my eyes don't hide the stranger-like features in the mirror. Iruka once lamented the way people look at you is never the way you see yourself. There is much truth to it. I know that my face is not good-looking. There is a battle scar which mars my features and further punctuates my lack of handsomeness. Yet there are blind people who swoon when I pull down my mask for ramen.
In the bathhouse, the steam rises in humid wisps and blurs my vision. Still, I can clearly see the same sinewy abs and pedoral muscles tauter than ever, almost similar to the ones lined on my bones in good old ANBU days, only significantly larger.
If Ma was still alive, I'm sure she will pester me to get married. In my mind, my inner eyes visualize a petite woman clad in plum blossom kimono for this season, adjusting the collar of my khaki vest, smoothing the creases and unsuccessfully propping up the limp flap of my chest pocket. Although the years have taken her for a ride, she would have aged gracefully. The meanders of crow feet lining her eyes will take on a beam of soft, gentle kindness, a type of feature that can hardly match her huge voice. Look how much you have grown, Kakashi. As if on cue, she will ask. Do you have a girlfriend?
No, Okasan. I will reply, hiding the laugh in my voice.
Or maybe someone you like? She will continue to badger me, persistently tormenting me till the gold mine has fully bled. A lover? You can always confide in Okasan.
No, Okasan. As usual, I am as monotonous as before in my speech. This is so she will not take a wild guess at my tone and make ridiculous deductions like she always will.
You should mingle around more often. Instead of reading those silly novels, Go Go Parrots? Aren't they about mating animals? How vulgar.
Come Come Paradise, Okasan. I will correct her.
Those are bad influence, you know. The next door neighbor's son Takumi read it and he had herpes on his bum. How unfortunate!And she will do humphff-ing like a braying horse.
No, Okasan, you got your facts wrong. He was reading the book while sitting on poison ivy.
She will start tutting. Tutting so much she can start a tutting factory. It's the same.
Then she will ramble on. Eh! How about the nice girl with long wavy hair, like a soap opera actress and sparkling eyes, in the bandage dress. I think she's one of the sensei at the academy, no?
Her sparkling eyes in a bandage dress? I will say and squint my eye for emphasis.
Ma will chide me. Her body in a bandage dress, not her eyes. She's very pretty and seems to suit you. And her hips are voluptuous, excellent for child-bearing.
Kunerai? She is together with Asuma. Practically engaged.
Mr beardy? Oh dear. What a waste. Anyway, I was thinking, you should get married soon.
Okasan, I'm only twenty-eight! In indignant, I will cry out.
About time to start a family. There is this girl, the daughter of one of my mahjong club friend, from sand village. This year, she will be twenty-five. She can cook, she can clean, and she does an exceptionally good job with the cleaning of the toilet... … Ma will drone on and on. And I will nod my head like the dutiful son she expects me to be. I won't be defiant and tell her the cleaning lady at the academy does all of the above and I'm not going to marry her. I am so freakin' glad no one knows about my inner mother complex.
The adolescent girl from the bar is asleep by my side. Turns out that she knew quite a far bit about slamming and banging. I feel guilty; it must have been one of her first time having sex. The rumpled sheets display a red spot tell-tale sign. She said she is a half-virgin. Damn right, she is. Oh man, the day I answer to her parent will be the day I commit suicide. I don't want her lying in my arms. Feels wrong. So wrong to have sexual sex with someone your heart doesn't love. It wasn't even passionate at all, huh. My head's so screwed up thinking about this.
I turn my mind to Sakura. #*!! ! It freaks me out when I realized I have been watching her every movements, memorizing the curves on her body, the intensity in her eyes when she concentrates… I need her like the desert needs water. Perhaps it's not more than a fleeting obsession, a phrase I am currently going through.
If she comes closer to me when there is nobody around, I think I will stuff a rag into her mouth and rape her. Make gentle love to her till the cows come home. And when the herd of cow moon totters their staggering way over, I will climb off her trembling, delicate frame and get Pai-kun to bring death to those bloody cows that shouldn't even be there in the first place. How dare they come without being summoned?
But I can't do all that, no?
Because I am a sensei.
Sex is not love. Sex is not love.
Then why did I fuck the hell out of the girl who is only three year older than Sakura?
Oh yeah, sex is not love.
A/N: I'm so sorry for boring you guys with another lame chapter. I really appreciate all the reviews, I'm sooooo happy you like Mr Smutty story. They really made my gloomy day as bright as sunshine!
The kaka here, in my own opinion is like a doppelganger of Passing Strangers (Greatest naruto ff ever!)'s Kaka. But to me, this is the type of Kakashi I am keen on developing.
Basically, Kaka is hesitant about going all the way or even starting out with Sakura. He doesn't wanna abuse his position as Mr sensei.
Years ago, when I was 14 I had a mini weeny crush on my tuition teacher who was, let's see, I think 27??! He wasn't as hawt as Kaka though… Ahaha.. I wonder how many of you fancied/fancies your male teachers too? (^.^)
Please review!!! (Even if it's horrible.)
PS: There will be more lemonlicious chapters to come. POV is to help u understand their characters better.