/really, now, I'm back?/

Shinobi Definitions

ii.a. [tsunade.sasuke.orochimaru.kakashi.sasuke]

1. Affinity

-, apparently, was one of the things she shared with Naruto. The Senju clan and the Uzumaki clan of the Land of the Whirlpool were connected by blood. How fitting for the bloodline of the Hokages to be almost royalty. Each end every one of them were linked by either blood or mentorship. Or both, in the case of Uzumaki Naruto. No wonder she didn't have the heart to truly bash his head in whenever he screamed "BAA-CHANNN!" into her ears.

Nah. It was just mercy on her part, Tsunade thought as she looked fondly at the blonde that reminded her of life, hope, and so much more.

2. Best friend

-was Naruto. Or that's what he thought, even though he rarely vocalized it. But apparently not, because he couldn't kill the dobe, and he wasn't the one who had given him the mangekyou. It was his brother, who had led him in a merry, bloody chase around the world, seeking for retribution when in truth there was none. Naruto wasn't his best friend—it was he, the traitor-who-was-not. Once more, he was given a peek into the heart he never thought existed inside his chest.

3. Craving

-for rotten human flesh, that was what Orochimaru longed, lived and toiled for (after all, he never backed down from what was expected from him. except for that one thing that was against his…values if they could be called that. he would never be made leader of the village that forced him to see the rotting corpses of his parents and the indecipherable screams and the long sleepless nights. and had turned him into the closet monster that he was. or perhaps that's a nice thought. after all, why not lead into destruction the village that made me into this? he thought). But the first time he saw her again, his eyes were riveted to the ample bosom, (it was so characteristic of her to have everything in excess) and he appreciated them besides the fact that they weren't rotten flesh at all. As he allowed himself a brief moment of rare hormonal insurgence and admiration, he noted that they were as white as unadulterated porcelain (never mind what actual hell that porcelain went through to get to what it became), and seemed soft to touch.

(and people, he snarled in his mind, contrary to what your insane brainless skulls might propagate, i am NOT gay. thank you.)

4. Deceased

-were they, but he never failed to visit them, every day of his life, and if not, every chance he got. As the rain started to pitter-patter slowly, then quickly, into his bloodstained vest and shoulder and hands and heart, Kakashi wondered when he would stop living for dead people, and when he would start living for himself. He glanced at Hatake Sakumo's name briefly, and the thought reinforced itself. He sighed, gripped the spine of the old book he always carried, but would never dare to open in this sacred place, and said his goodbyes to the people who changed him. For the better perhaps? Yet that made him into an empty shell. When would he stop living for the dead?

A few months later, as Kakashi watched three little kids struggle to be the best while still being together, he had his answer.

He just didn't know it yet.

5. "Email

- is how we are going to communicate with each other, Sasuke-kun!" Was her reassurance that he would still be a part of her life, and Sasuke had just hn-ed. But two weeks later, he hadn't written, she hadn't written. He didn't because it was too impersonal and all that he wanted was her smell, her smile, her brightness, her anger, her frustration, her healing, her. He missed her. Awfully. It wasn't something that written words contracted into the most economic way possible could alleviate, when Sasuke knew that the only solution was her. The dobe had been surprised, the ramen slipping off the spoon while it was halfway into his mouth, when he heard the news, "Sakura-chan hasn't emailed you yet? We've been emailing like, every other day since she left." He had been surprised, too, for he thought that he would've been the first person she contacted.

Later that night he was fiddling with the phone in his hands, decided against it, packed his bags and left.

Imagine how wide her sleepy green eyes became when she saw him at three am the next morning.