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Generic Title: Catch-22 (a)

Title: Cards

Set: WAR

Pair: SasuNaruSasu implied.

Author: darkenedmoonlightflame

Summary: 9th theme: Ace of Hearts. (It was goodbye, but no one wanted to be the first to say such a morbid word.)

Rating: K+, for language and theme.

Word Count: 520.

Disclaimer: I do not own either Naruto or the 1000 Themes, and do not claim to. However, everything else, AKA: the writing, (some if not all of) the (theme-guided) plot, any poetic interpretation, et cetera, IS MINE.

(A/N: Another one that I like. (And yes, I did kind of want that 'cliché-ish feel' at the end.) I wonder if the ones I like are any good at all…

(Note: One away from finishing this theme set! (smiles, cheers)

(Note: I'm sure this will leave many with questions. Ask away.

(So, presenting, Catch-22, Part Nine.)

Catch-22 (a)

March 30th, 2007

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Nine, Ace of Hearts—Cards—

Tomorrow, it would begin. For tonight, there was laughter. Wine and scotch to forget—but only in miniscule amounts, as the pilots had to remain sober for just a bit longer than the rest—were smuggled into the campsite. On the velvety-green table, a battered deck of cards was distributed among five men. The cards were patterned: blue diamonds in even succession—the 'chips' were mismatched, and the men were boisterous. It was almost as though they didn't recognize the date, didn't recognize what tomorrow was to be.

It was likely that they didn't want to.

"So much for the 'Greatest Battle', hmm, boys?" The shaggy brunette waved a dismissive hand in the air, snorting derisively. The whiskey flagon in his other hand was nearly empty, and as he hiccuped again, it tipped to one side and spilled a bit. The soldier didn't pay it any mind, instead ranting: "I think the only thing great about it is that it'll be over quick, ne?" His licked his cracked lips, and took another sip, tossing his head back to swallow.

"Yes, Kiba-sei." The neatly-groomed man in the corner had finished polishing his sunglasses, and as he donned them once more, he murmured, "Yes."

Smoothly, a third interjected: "'Yes', what, Shino-kun? Sure, it'll be fast. But did those irresponsible fools have to resort to this?" He was the oldest, and although his tone was heated, he remained the most sensible. Resetting his spiky dark brown ponytail, he added, "Two pairs: fives and twos, gentlemen."

"Shit!" The blond-haired, blue-eyed male swore, tossing down his cards. "I'm out. Iruka-sensei, why do you always get the good stuff?" The aforementioned man, Iruka, absentmindedly rubbed at the scar on the bridge of his nose, grinning sheepishly.

"Royal flush. And no, dobe, this isn't some kind of conspiracy. You're just lousy at poker." As an afterthought, the smug, dark-eyed teenager tacked on, "Usuratonkachi." Nonchalantly, he displayed the cards and raked the incompatible bits—A chess piece, a dollar bill, ten ramen cups in various states of emptiness, a crystallized butterfly, pretzels, a wad of tape, nearly twenty I-O-U papers…—towards himself.

"SASUKE-TEME!!! You're so rude!"

"And here I thought that you liked it rough."

"Why, you…! I'm gonna—"

Regardless of the strange conversational topic, at one point or another, they all smiled in unison.

And really, they were very good at pretending. It was a nice enough game of cards, one that was presently rather popular among the ranks. But their untroubled manner seemed slightly off. It didn't disguise anything—nervousness, apprehension, fear—as originally desired. For now, that was okay. The five men hadn't gotten all suited up yet; casual slacks and loosely-if-not-at-all-collared shirts were a normal sight among them. Tomorrow, it would be all about protective clothing and metallic bits and transmitting devices and pilot's gear.

Tomorrow, the maybe-suicidal missions would commence.

But that was tomorrow. For now, talk was light-hearted. It was goodbye, but no one wanted to be the first to say such a morbid word. Abruptly Sasuke advised, "Try again, Naruto. But this time, let the cards fall where they may."

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