Happy birthday, Karasu! I'm very, very sorry for the long delay, but if you've been reading my livejournal, you'll understand why this chapter took so long to write and publish.
To celebrate Karasu's birthday, I have posted a list of 10 of Karasu's quirks on my livejournal. Feel free to check it out.
Disclaimer: Kishimoto is ruining the series.
"Karasu, are you done sweeping the kitchen?"
"Yes, o-kaasan!"
"Then bring in the tatami from outside and put them back. It's almost eleven-o-clock!" As I finished replacing the tatami mats in the living room, a soft knock alerted me to a presence at the door.
"O-kaasan, someone's here!"
"Open the door and invite him in! Shinju, is the toshidana properly arranged?" I scrambled to the doorway as best as I could in my kimono, nearly knocking over the kadomatsu in the entryway as I slipped on the newly-polished wooden floor. Regaining my balance, I wrenched the door open.
"Kakashi! You're just in time! We were just about to begin eating the toshikoshi-soba!" I ushered Kakashi inside, carefully lifting the shide on the shimenawa that fluttered around the Copy Ninja's face.
"Sorry, sorry! It's just that a whole flock of evil-looking geezers outside my apartment complex were waving their hands in mystic patterns. Since it's New Year's Eve, it's important to clean everything for the coming of the New Year; therefore, I had to write some sutras to purify my apartment from evil influences, just in case-"
"Kakashi, m'boy, is that you?" My father boomed as he stepped into the entryway.
"Happy Omisaka, ojisan." Kakashi bowed low, his gesture mirrored in my father's muscular figure.
"I swear, every time I see you, you grow even taller. You're already almost as tall as I am!" My father slapped Kakashi's shoulder and laughed loudly, unaware of the sudden flash of pain in Kakashi's eye.
"O-tousan, Kakashi has a wound on that shoulder!"
"Ah, I'm sorry, I didn't know. Shitsureishimashita."
"Don't worry about it." Casting me a grateful smile, Kakashi followed my father into the kitchen, where my mother and sister were already waiting with a pot of noodles.
"Happy Omisoka, obasan, Shinju-san."
"Kakashi, you're too skinny! You're already taller than I am, and you eat so little! Shinju, give Kakashi a double portion!" As my mother shepherded Kakashi onto a zabuton, my sister turned as bright red as my mother's kimono and busied herself with dividing the toshikoshi-soba between five bowls.
"Would you like tempura with your noodles, Kakashi-san?"
"No, thank you, scallions will be fine." Bobbing his head in thanks to my sister, Kakashi took the bowl from Shinju, accidentally brushing his hands against her trembling ones in the process. My sister flushed even darker, if that was possible; I arched an eyebrow at her behavior and received a scowl in return.
"Nesshin-kun, we should eat quickly if we want to arrive at the shrine before they begin ringing the bells."
"Ah, yes. You are as astute as you are lovely, my dear Junsui-chan!"
"O-tousan…" My sister groaned, her eyes flicking towards the amused Copy Ninja.
"Humor your senile father a little, Shinju-chan. Very well then, itadakimasu!" My father's mutter was echoed and followed by the clacking of chopsticks against bowls as we began to devour the noodles.
"Right, all of you hurry along to the front door while I get the camera. It's already eleven-thirty." When the last noodle disappeared with a slurp, my mother ushered us off our zabuton while she piled the bowls in the sink.
"Are you excited for the new year, Karasu?"
"Yeah! We get to start everything over again with a clean slate. Cleaning the whole house makes me tired, though." I rubbed my shoulders, wincing slightly.
"Although it is exhausting, it's important that the house is spotless in order to welcome the New Year, Karasu-chan," My father lectured as he tightened his shoes.
"It's good training, as well." Kakashi grinned.
"The bells will begin ringing any minute now!" My mother appeared, a camera swinging from her hand. Scurrying out the door, we waited for my father to lock the front entrance. The small click of the key was drowned out by a deep, mellow ringing; the sound had barely died away before the bell was struck again.
"They began ringing the bells! Hurry up, all of you!" Picking up the hem of her kimono, my mother began to run, her geta clacking against the ground.
"I don't get why we have to go so early. Since they have to ring the bells 108 times, it always takes longer than an hour for them to finish," Shinju grumbled, but she clutched her kimono and hurried after my father's vanishing figure.
"Come on, Karasu! Just channel your chakra through your shoes; it will be good practice and make you go faster!" Dust swirled around Kakashi's feet as he focused his energy and began to sprint. Copying him, I stumbled along behind him, struggling to run with awkward wooden clogs strapped to my feet.
"Ow!" The road was crusted with ice; I slipped and fell. Landing on my hands and knees, I bit my lip as a sharp pain seared through my palms.
"Karasu, are you okay?" Kakashi turned back and knelt before me, carefully pulling up the hem of my kimono in order to examine my knees.
"I just scraped my palms, but that's nothing a chuunin can't handle, right?"
"Did you try channeling chakra through your geta? It will help you keep your balance."
"I tried! It's just so hard to run while wearing heavy wooden clogs!" I had to yell in order to make myself heard above the steady ringing of the bell. Kakashi glanced down the road towards the bright patch in the dark sky that indicated the location of the shrine, and then glanced back at me. Involuntarily, I began to shiver violently as the cold wind sliced through the heavy silken garment I wore.
"Here." He turned his back to me and extended his arms expectantly.
"What?"
"Piggyback ride."
"Are you sure?"
"I thought you loved these." Swiveling, he creased his eye.
"I do! I still do! It's just that… am I too heavy for you?"
"You? Too heavy?" Kakashi snorted. "I'm in ANBU, remember? I can handle an eleven-year old, no sweat." I hesitatingly stepped forward, let him hook his arms around my legs, and wrapped my arms around his neck.
"Your hands are cold. Are you ready?"
"Yeah. Thank you very much, Kakashi." I pressed my face against the back of his neck, my shivers slowing as his warmth seeped through the fabric of his mask.
"No problem. Hang on tight, now."
***
The stone suddenly crumbled to bits beneath my frozen fingers. Suppressing a yelp, I slid ten feet down the cliff face before managing to regain a hold on the icy rock. I pressed my face against the stone, trembling as I listened carefully. The only sounds I heard were my shuddering gasps, the hiss of the icy wind, and the scraping of pebbles against rock as they fell toward the heaving ocean hundreds of feet below. The noises were quickly swallowed by the roiling sea of thick, muffling clouds that swirled around me.
An'ya's aerie, located on a towering mountain in the middle of the ocean, was sheltered from the rest of the world by stormy weather patterns and a fierce, choppy ocean. Below the nest, bushes, grasses, and scrawny trees grew in increasingly thick patches as the altitude decreased. The plant life receded into a pebbly beach made of rocks that washed up from the sea. As the altitude increased, the dense shrubbery gradually morphed into a wide assortment of ferns, mosses, and lichens. Thousands of years, rain, wind, and seismic activity had shaped the mountain into a rocky landscape of caves, ridges, cliffs, and hidden pockets. It was one of the hidden pockets that I was looking for.
After catching my breath, I resumed climbing, digging my numb fingers and feet into miniscule crevices in the rock that I could barely see in the pre-dawn light that was further dimmed by the clouds that pressed in on me. Even with chakra, the ascent was difficult; the fierce winter winds that threatened to pluck me off the cliff face and toss me into the water didn't make things easier. Finally, after slipping perilously more than once, I reached up and felt the smooth top of the cliff. I pulled myself over and collapsed in a heap on the ground, gasping as the scarcity of oxygen made the world spin around me. My back muscles were on fire, my arms aching. I dimly recalled Kakashi climbing mountains with one hand tied behind his back, no chakra-
No, don't think about him. I squeezed my eyes shut, shuddering as I felt a sharp stab in my chest. Even now, even after six weeks, I still felt a deep, almost physical pain when I thought about Kakashi. Why was that? Why couldn't my heart learn its lesson, that love meant pain, and just let go? Why did it even have to fall in love with Kakashi and get me into this mess in the first place?
A particularly fierce current of air reminded me of my mission. Opening my eyes, I slowly stood and slipped into a thin fissure between two rocks. I followed the narrow, rough trail that winded through the clouds and towards the top of the mountain; it suddenly widened into a relatively flat, boulder-walled area. In the middle, fed by a cascading waterfall and surrounded by a thick carpet of mosses and ferns, was a secluded pond. Scarves of thick fog shrouded the frozen surface.
Clambering onto the nearest boulder, I settled myself in a crossed-leg position and closed my eyes. I took a deep breath that nearly turned into a strangled wheeze; the scarcity of oxygen and the freezing temperature of the air drove a knife through my lungs. I forced myself to concentrate on the rough boulders beneath my fingers, on the frosty wind tugging on my clothes and hair. Bit by bit, I was able to breathe slowly and evenly without gasping for air. I gradually opened my eyes to see the ocean of clouds tinted red, orange, and yellow, the colors of an icy fire. Far out in the sea, a storm brewed, a dark, roiling smudge against the brightening sky.
Kakashi cracked one eye open slowly, wincing at the sudden burst of light from the rising sun. I laughed softly before continuing my description of the newborn morning.
My slow breaths began to speed up into choking gasps. This was no good. I couldn't concentrate. Sliding off the boulder, I quickly broke the ice crusting the lake's surface, stripped off my clothes, and dove into the water.
The icy water ripped all the breath from my lungs. I pushed my face through the mirror-like surface, shivering violently. Far above me, masked by another layer of vapors, the peak of the mountain was permanently crusted with ice. Melted ice cascaded down the sides of the mountain in the form of waterfalls and rivers and collected in pools like the pond I was currently swimming in. Repressing a violent shudder, I ducked my face back underwater and opened my eyes. Little minnows darted through the crystal-clear water, their scales flashing in the dim light. Swimming along the bottom with them, I made my way towards the white cloud of icy foam being churned by the waterfall. Undoing my ponytail, I rested beneath the frothing cascade of frigid water, my hair spreading like tendrils of ink beneath the surface. I closed my eyes, focusing on the relentless drumming of water against my skin, on the dull roar of pounding water in my ears.
Roaring triumphantly, the Water Dragon swallowed me whole, its fangs glistening as they closed around me. I was helpless, unable to resist the water's pummeling; as the pounding died down, an arm wrapped around my waist, yanked my limp body out of the water, and slammed me against the tree. I wearily cracked my eyes open to meet Kakashi's Sharingan.
Clutching my head, I sank beneath the surface, trying in vain to shake the memories out. In the last six weeks, no matter how hard I tried to not think about Kakashi, no matter how hard I tried to destroy my feelings for him, despite my vow to let him go, tears continued to flow down my cheeks. During the day, it was torture, a nearly impossible feat to mask my pain, to hide behind an emotionless facade. At night, I continued to cry myself to sleep, pressing my hands against my mouth lest I alerted An'ya and her children. Even sleep offered me no comfort; I was haunted by dreams of Kakashi's face, by dreams of my past with him, by dreams of our argument and his rage.
Kakashi and I hadn't argued for years. We'd had the occasional friendly quarrel, but nothing like this. The only time we'd really fought was when I was still enrolled in the Ninja Academy, over some stupid reason long forgotten. He'd always been kind, gentle, sweet; the fact that he'd employed the Sharingan against me showed just how angry he was. How could I ever hope to approach him again, how could I ever hope to get along with him once more?
His fury not only terrified me, but wounded me deeply as well. How could I describe the feeling of being hated by the very person whom I would unhesitatingly die for? How could I describe the pain of being rejected by the very person whom I yearned to hold in my arms?
I'd tried so hard to kill my feelings for him, to wipe my heart clean. But my love for him was a stubborn, persisting stain that wouldn't fade no matter how hard I scrubbed at it. I'd promised to myself so many times that I would let him go, that I would forget about the past and start over.
But I couldn't do it.
Because the truth was, with his tender care and guidance, Kakashi was the one who had helped me grow and develop into the person I was today; he was the one who helped me spread my wings and fly. Without the scarecrow, the crow felt insignificant, small and helpless. With the loss of its wings, the crow felt lost, unable to escape the thick, pressing clouds of grief that threatened to suffocate it.
Pulling myself out of the water, I wiped my body dry, shivering despite the weak, yellow rays of sunlight. I pulled on my clothes with numb, trembling fingers; as I squeezed the water out of my hair, the gleaming of pure yellow caught my gaze. Slowly, as if in a trance, I knelt and picked up the unsheathed tanto, my eyes fixed on the design of mahogany crows on the pine handle.
It must have somehow gotten unsheathed when I took off my clothes. As I bent to pick up the sheath, a lock of my hair fell over my shoulder. I froze, unable to tear away my gaze from the contrast of black and yellow.
It's Omisoka, New Year's Eve, the perfect time to start over.
Cutting her hair was a female's way to express a desire to sever her bonds with the past, to start anew with a fresh slate.
Surely cutting my hair today of all days would be the perfect way to symbolize my decision to separate myself from Kakashi, to let go of my love for him, to let go of my past with him.
I gathered my hair in my left hand and raised the tanto's blade with my right.
Just a quick jerk of the arm, a quick flexing of the shoulder… and it'll be gone forever.
Swallowing, I pressed the razor edge against my hair, closing my eyes.
Let go.
My hands trembled.
Start over.
I was gasping now, taking shuddering breaths.
Sever your bonds with him.
The blade clattered against the rocks as I pressed my hands against my face. A low, animal-like moan seeped through my lips; salt water seeped through my clenched eyelids. I pressed my forehead against the ground and my mouth against my knees, rocking as the thin barriers holding back my anguish broke and disintegrated.
To sever my bonds with Kakashi would be to sever the web tying me to my pain, my anguish, my grief. To sever myself from the past would let me start over, to begin again. To sever myself from my painful, unrequited love would free me from this never-ending ache in my chest.
But I couldn't do it.
The next chapter may take a very long time. I'm sorry, but school takes first priority to FM. Please review, and thanks for reading!
Terms:
Kadomatsu- a traditional Japanese decoration of the New Year placed in pairs in front of homes
Shide- zig-zag paper streamer often attached to shimenawa
Shimenawa- length of braided rice straw rope
Shitsureishimashita- I'm sorry
Zabuton- cushion
Toshikoshi-soba- Noodles eaten to welcome the New Year; can also be toshikoshi-udon.
Ojisan- uncle (it is common in Japan for people to refer to others whom they are close to, but not necessarily relatives, by terms of relation/endearment. For example, young children may call an older girl "big sister")
Obasan- aunt
Geta- wooden clogs
Buddhists believe that humans are plagued by 108 different passions/desires. The bell is rung once for each desire in order to drive them out.