I noticed I've been slacking. Due to this fact, I have 1) not updated for almost four months, and 2) really gotten lazy with my chapters. This one's only about 1641--VERY low for what I'm accustomed to. I've had a lot more things on my plate than have been easy to handle, but nonetheless, I have been slacking.
This chapter is somewhat heartfelt. It's definitely my favorite so far, despite the sloppy parts in the middle (you can probably point them out), but I hope you enjoy it all the less.
Also, while writing this chapter, I've come to realize that the reason girls like chick ficks so much is because the guys in the movies are unrealistically compassionate. Girls are compassionate, so I think that's why there is such a strong attraction to "sensitive" guys. I think Iruka, in general, is a pretty sensitive guy, so it works for this particular situation. Even though it is a bit sappy,I still like it because it's unrealistic.
So, here it is, in all its glory--Chapter 6.
Chapter 6
So Much Peace in Here
The worn harbor eyed the approaching couple with a sense of wonder and curiosity, wondering what it was and whatever it was that held these two together. There was one man in particular who, standing at the gangway on the portside of the small ship, eyed their coming, assuming that this was where they wanted to be. They were on their way back to the Fire Nation, probably on their way home because of the holiday conclusion at hand. She seemed a bit unfamiliar with a few things, however; the way she floated behind the man, and how she seemed to be lost, looking around for something she could not find. Keeping her gaze constantly nowhere while he looked ahead, she wore the inevitably obvious disguise that something wasn't right with either her situation or who the man was that she followed.
They came closer to the gangway, and as they were almost upon it, the young man with the raccoon tan about his face slowed and looked back, waiting for the young woman to catch her pace near his side. They then came up to the man who'd been observing them with intent.
"Good afternoon, sir," Iruka said plainly. The ticket man nodded slowly in reply, greeted the girl with the wandering gaze. Iruka then fumbled around in his pocket and after what seemed quite a while, he pulled from it two slips of paper indicating their destination. He checked them a final time before presenting them to the ticket man, who routinely received them and ripped them in half. Stepping aside and ushering them up the gangway, he wished them a wonderful trip.
Iruka nodded in thanks. He could have at least offered to help with the load.
So up they went into the ship, assuming their previous positions in this small caravan they piloted. The man at the entrance watched them, and before the couple entered the ship, he called up to them one last comment and word of advice.
"You're just going to have to help yourself out sometimes. Don't always expect someone to help you."
Iruka heard; all that was his reply was rolling his eyes, but the man behind them knew just what he was thinking. And he watched them depart into the belly of the ship.
The man cackled, commented indirectly to the next people approaching him. "I'm just a regular old jackass, aren't I?"
The trip wouldn't be too long, so only a minimally-sized cabin was provided. There was a bathroom, shared by about eight rooms' residents, down the hallway, and the living conditions were livable enough. Neither spoke a word.
Iruka stumbled into the room with his load and immediately dumped it to the small, open floor below. It was nice to have that off his shoulders. With a comical sigh and laugh of relief, he crashed onto the bed and closed his eyes.
Katana stood by, eyeing the pile of belongings carelessly strewn across the ground. Then, almost dutifully, she knelt and began assigning the cargo a new destination in the over-bed cabinets. When Iruka observed this, he scolded himself for being lazy and left the bed to help her with a task he'd blindly assigned her.
"Sorry," he began, uncomfortable with the silence. "I didn't mean for you to pick up after me—"
"No, it's okay. I'm used to it." She continued with her task, as if Iruka hadn't said a word.
"No, I mean it. Just sit back and I'll get it all put away—it's mostly my stuff anyway, and I need to learn to not be so lazy."
"No, really, it's okay—I'm fine, I can do it—"
Iruka felt fairly awkward, trying to take something from her, even though she struggled with it. She kept diligent in her chore, but eventually, they both were incorporated into the work, and she didn't fight it anymore. Iruka received what she would pick up and put it away in the small storage unit above the bed, and when all was finished, he sat back down. Still standing, Katana avoided his gaze.
Ugh. I'm so inconsiderate, he told himself, and immediately stood and offered is seat on the bed. She probably wasn't all too comfortable with him just yet, anyway.
He stood with a grunt and gestured to the bed. "I don't need to be sitting—"
"No, it's not like I've really done anything too strenuous today. You've done all the work, so you should be sitting. I'm just fine right here."
Iruka suddenly lost hope of winning this fight, but still he prodded. "No, I'm okay. You really—"
"No, it's okay, thank you."
He grew slightly impatient with this, yet kept his self-control from rampancy and thought more on her resistance. "I'm not going to sit anyway. I, uh, was just running upstairs to see if I can get something for me—us, to eat. You must be famished, and all this worry probably doesn't help at all. I'll be back with something for us in a bit." Nervously, he turned through the door, pulled it closed behind him, only realizing his rudeness before he was locked from her and his mistake couldn't be corrected. He then peered back into the room at her, kept his gaze for a minute, thinking about her.
She turned to see him again. "Yes?"
With a gentle smile and sigh, "Do you want to come with me? I didn't mean to keep you here."
It must have worked on her mind for a moment, for she only looked at him a moment, then finally refused the invitation, embarrassed. "I'm fine, thank you. I'll just be here when you return. And—" Iruka looked back into the room one last time, looked back at her. Again she lowered her face, nervously appointing her manners. "Thank you, again."
A final smile from him, and he shut the door. She watched as her sight of Iruka diminished and the listened for the click that signaled her being alone in the room. For a moment, she knew not what to do with herself, was only left to herself to relax and ponder. Nothing really to worry about. Nothing really to do for anyone else but herself. She almost smiled giddily at the thought that she only really had to worry about herself, and she wasn't necessarily a high-maintenance being.
But what about Iruka-san? He's off doing something for me, isn't there something I can be doing for him? With this thought, she began to turn down the sheets on the bed and ready it for his weary body to retire there.
Iruka, on the other hand, was concerned about how she was feeling. As he stood in line at the kitchen, he began wondering about how she would take to a sleeping arrangement that night. He knew she would refuse the bed and that she would rather he slept in it, so it was likely that they would both end up on the floor that night. He sighed at the dilemma. She's been treated so poorly her whole life that she thinks she doesn't deserve anything.
But I'll show her she's really worth something, somehow. I'll treat her well. It won't be easy to change her mind.
Iruka finally came back to the world around him and found himself staring into a pair of all-too-perturbed eyes. The woman glared wearily at him as he signaled the number two with his hand, and she provided him with two bowls of . . . something. Some sort of soup with beef or something or the other. Whatever. He smiled and thanked her for her apparent trouble as she provided him with two pairs of chopsticks, then turned and went on his way downstairs with the two bowls in his hands. Knowing my luck, he grinned, I'll trip and go a-sailing down these stairs. That would be good.
He finally came to the room, only to remember he was locked out, so he resorted to kicking the door with his feet to let her know he'd returned and needed a bit of help getting back into the room. After doing so, she promptly answered the door and ushered him in.
"Thank you, very much," she thanked him before e even really handed her the bowl. When he did, she held it and kept standing there. He was waiting for her to sit down so he would know what to do. But, as he expected, she waited for him to take action before she dare do anything. He then sighed and slid to the floor, his back resting against the wall. She sat opposite of him and faced to the side, to which he moved over and sat against the bed in order to face her. This took her quite by surprise, but to hide her uncertainty and confusion, she began to eat, this action also taken by Iruka. He made a face.
"You'd think they'd have to apply some sort of health code to this food," he jested. She only kept eating, only allowed a trace of a smile through which he could hardly see.
"It's food, anyway," she replied, took another bite. "I've never really had anything like this before."
"Nor I. I wonder if this is even really beef, but it's really not too bad."
She seized up at the thought, watched as he took another bite. A smile peered through on his face as he looked back down. A feeling of comfort and reassurance came over her at this, and she relaxed enough to smile herself.
He set his bowl to the floor and stretched. "I'm tired. It'll be nice to finally sleep in my own bed tomorrow night."
"I made up the bed for you. I knew you would probably be—you must be tired. Why don't you get some sleep?" Her concern for his wellness was apparent; that, or she was used to treating people this way.
"Naw, thank you anyway, but I'll be okay just . . . on the floor. Why don't you sleep in the bed tonight? You could sleep better in there, anyway. I'm used to sleeping on the floor."
She didn't sound too disappointed, but her persistence was still quite apparent as she insisted that he sleep in the bed because he'd been working all day. He then countered her attack by insisting that she was the lady and that she deserved anything before him. At this comment, she shrank back a bit and looked to the ground. "I insist. I don't need it." Emotion suddenly took control of her voice. She set her bowl down and drew her knees into her chest. As if by instinct, Iruka leaned over closer to her to hear what was on her mind.
"What makes you think that? Of course you do." Hoping he sounded genuinely concerned, he allowed her to continue. When she said nothing, he asked, "Why do you feel that way?"
Face buried in her knees, she took a deep, shaky breath. Her body trembled, and though he couldn't see her face, he knew she was probably uneasy and emotional about this. So, as gently and reassuringly as he could, he balanced on the balls of his feet and leaned in to touch her back. She tensed at this and he took his hand away to let her regain herself.
Surprisingly, it was only a short moment more before she brought herself out of the depths of her sorrowful soul. She sat up and looked forward, not at him, but forward, nonetheless, instead of down below where she should be. "I guess I just didn't really have the most nurturing father. But there were people who loved me. Hana was always there for me and practically cared for me from the day I was born."
Hmmm. A bit of insight to her past. "What about your mother?"
"She died. Giving birth to me." Though she asserted this point, Iruka didn't feel this was very true or that she believed it much, either. "But father and Hana insisted that I looked more like him, anyway. He always tells me there's not much of her in me."
Iruka smiled. "I knew my parents only till I was still fairly young. They both left me when a demon attacked our village. They were killed in an attempt to stop it. I used to be very bitter about their leaving me at so young an age, but I've grown to accept it more and more. It's helped to make me who I am today."
She questioned him even with her look. "What do you mean?"
"Well," he grunted as he stretched, "it's helped me to learn faster how to care for myself and how to . . . really, just to find who I really am. I think what truly makes people who they are is the problems they face and how they decide to handle them and learn from them. That's why some of us never really grow; we never get the chance to."
To her surprise, she whole-heartedly agreed with him. She'd known this all along, but she couldn't quite persuade herself that she'd really taken this information to heart. Looking back, she regretted not really trying to grow from her situation rather than fester in her pity and feel sorry for herself. "I think I could have done better, then. I haven't really been too strong with my situation."
"You aren't alone," he laughed. "I'm not exactly a selfless person. I think I've learned to be a little self-centered.
"But you're not—"
Iruka looked up when she didn't continue. She sighed, and silence ensued, enveloping the room and persuading them to think on this situation. How could their flaws be worked out to help the other? Katana looked over Iruka, over the bed and through the small window revealing a saddening sky under the looming fall of night. Soon they would sleep, but where? Trying to forget this issue, she changed their topic of conversation.
"As much as I won't miss home, I'm going to miss a few things. I'll miss Hana and Inori. I'll miss the atmosphere."
Hearing her talk of her home allowed Iruka to think back on his home and how he missed it. He missed his classes, his small apartment, and even that blasted Naruto kid. "I'll be glad to finally get there again. I miss it, but I wanted to get away from it so much."
She secluded a laugh with a tweak at the corners of her mouth. Another period of silence began, yet she didn't want to break it.
Iruka felt differently. "So is there really anything you're interested in? Did you have a job, or anything?"
"Not really. Just tended to whoever needed anything."
"I'm a school teacher at the ninja academy in Konoha village. I put up with a lot of demands from snotty little kids, and sometimes I can get really sick of them, but then I understand them. I was that way once, always wanting attention and what not. I missed out on having parents to give me attention, so I went around begging for it and acting like a stupid little fool everywhere I went. Was there anything you even wanted to do? Anything you had on your mind to keep you going? Something to think about when you considered your future?"
"Nothing, really . . . but Hana always told me I had a thing for caring for people." The mood in the room suddenly changed as Iruka listened more closely to her as she spoke about herself. She relaxed a bit, continued with a smile hidden in her eyes. "When Inori was born, I was the one who took care of her. My father didn't want much to do with her care, and Hana admitted that babies weren't necessarily in her field. So it was I who took care of her. I bathed her, I clothed her, I held her through the night when she cried."
"What about her mother? Where was she all this time?"
Katana's expression slackened into a more disappointed appearance. "Who knows? Father had a thing for not caring much about people, or the consequences of choices he made, or what he did that would hurt other people. He was a selfish person." Iruka noted the sudden change in her tone of voice as she freely expressed her opinions about a once forbidden topic. Did she really think so lowly of her father, yet was restrained from ill-speaking until she was finally freed?
Not like it was a bad thing. She was opinionated, very forward, unafraid to express what was on her mind. In other words, she was too big for the cage she'd been living in all her life. She was tied from herself while living with her father all those years. There were stakes holding her back from expressing herself, developing her abilities. How could someone so strong be kept so dormant?
Already he was learning so much about her. He wondered if she thought likewise.
Iruka understood when he saw Katana yawn. He, too, was quite tired. Never did he stand from the floor, though. And she, like he, remained. There was a lack of trust between the two for her to be comfortable enough to sleep in the same bed with him, so it was either he or she who would sleep in the bed. Iruka knew he wouldn't win this one, so without much left on his mind or anything to say, he reclined on the floor, mumbled to himself about how he needed to rest, and wished Katana a good night.
It was the first time in a while she'd felt so at ease with someone as strange to her as this Iruka figure. He, too, came across as so relaxed in their conversation—a relaxation that grew even more lax as it continued. In that time, she learned a lot about someone she'd have to learn more of. Such a daunting task couldn't be made easier with anyone besides this increasingly lovable fellow.
She looked at the rising and falling of his chest and tried to decide whether or not he was really asleep by now. By the depth and frequency of breaths, she concluded he was not yet asleep, but simply worn to the point of deep relaxation. He was awake, but fairly unaware of that fact. She, too, was tired, and envied him for the state he was in, but the extent of her comfort would only allow her to lean back against the wall and allow her eyes to flutter to a close. Even until the last moment of light before blackness, she could only think of and see him, try to imagine what the upcoming weeks, months, maybe years would bring. With Iruka. Maybe things wouldn't be so bad. She relaxed about it, and it was at that point when she relaxed that she actually fell into a deep, undisturbed slumber.
For a good part of the night, he just laid there with his eyes closed and listened to whatever was around him. His thoughts piloted him at this time, and with the time he was provided, he allowed himself to recall what he'd learned in the conversation he shared with his newly-wed companion. She was something entirely different than what he expected.
Before he realized he'd actually sunken away to a good three hours of sleep, he heard a thrashing of rain pounding the side of the ship, the thunder and wind driving passengers from the open air into their cabins until the watery threat had receded or they landed in port. He allowed a slit of blue, sad light enter his eyelids for a moment. Gazing out the window from his position on the floor, he pondered on the situation. Pondered, and remained silent for longer than his attention would normally keep him. He then looked back to where Katana was seated and saw that she had curled up on the floor in the shadow of the bed she'd turned down for him. For a moment, he felt slightly ungrateful, but forgot the thought and sat up, rolled onto the balls of his feet and stood up. The numbness from sleep wore off quickly, and he walked the short distance to her and just looked.
There was something particularly captivating about this sight. Something was . . . beautiful about it. The way her dark hair flipped in unintended directions about her head, covered the floor and swept over her shoulder just across her sleeping face. The light hit her face so it accented her eyebrows, opening up her sullen face into a sort of cloudy hope that might be what lay ahead of her. She was so peaceful. There was no turmoil, only the simple pleasures that inhabited her dreams.
He did not want to move her. He wanted to remember this for a long time. If I am to remember Katana, this woman, my wife, this is how I want to remember her.
Always. I never want to forget.
For just a moment more, he remained captivated by the serene splendor. His eyes welled for a moment. Swallowing hard, he leaned down, and gently picked her up. She fit so perfectly there in his arms, and he almost didn't want to let go, but he willingly laid her body on the bed and allowed her to naturally assume a comfortable position. He delicately brushed the hair from her face, and in one last gesture to express his overwhelming emotion, he bent down closer to her face. He waited there a moment.
With only slight hesitation, he kissed her forehead.
He didn't want to leave her for sleep. Not now. He couldn't. To ease this fear, he walked around to the other side of the bed and sat down, gazed out the window. I hope she trusts me enough to know I don't want to violate her, or hurt her . . .
I just want to be with her.
In the light cast by a saddened sky, a tear flickered as it slowly descended to the corner of his mouth.
What would happen after this night? If she chooses to leave, I may recover, but I would never forget . . . all we've been through. It's only been a short while, but all I've learned . . .
So much toil outside . . .
So much peace in her . . .
Yes, there is a sort of pun in the end. The chapter title is "So Much Peace in Here." The last line of the chapter is, "So Much Peace in her . . ." So sappy! I love it like strawberry waffles from IHOP!