A/N: This will have some relevance in the Fourth Kiss, so please don't feel like I'm trying to get you lost because I'm being a bitch.
Disclaimer: Did I forget to mention that I don't own this crap?
Second Kiss: "News/Letter"
It lay there innocent and unsuspecting. The little white envelope marred only by the small, neat black kanji that spelled her name on the back of the triangular lip as though the sender was fearful of spoiling the paper's purity if it were written on the front. Odd, Kurenai thought. Letters were commonly addressed on parchment scrolls, the kind that didn't explode of course. Slicing the kunai through the flap Kurenai gingerly unfolded the note, her crimson eyes scanning the short text back and forth memorizing it and proceeded to destroy it upon instruction. Tearing it to bits and piling the paper in a heavy black lacquer ashtray, Kurenai ignited a spark of chakra from her fingertip and watched as the controlled conflagration devoured the note. Glancing at the clock on her nightstand she only had an hour to get ready.
Swallowed up in a taupe tunic, Kurenai pulled a flap of it across her face protecting her skin from the claws of the arctic blast that was attacking Konohagure. The tall, black marble tablet stood proudly nestled in the piling snow, the stars shone overhead like a canopy of gemstones stitched on black velvet each winking at her, and close enough for her to pick like plums. Kurenai caught the names of her kinsmen on the memorial stone wondering how close or distant they were in blood to her. Her eyes fell on one of those names like the snowflakes catching on the indents of the kanji only to melt and slide down like tears on the icy surface. Yuuhi Ruri, her father's older sister and aunt she never knew. How ashamed she was coming from such a violent culture and Kurenai tremored as some agony telegraphed through her thinly stretched nervous system.
"I'm so glad you came."
The words sliced through Kurenai like an exclamatory bullet and she spun facing the voice's owner. Robed in a brown poncho similar to Kurenai's the woman grinned affably, her peachy cupid's bow perked up at the corners. The woman's auburn bob fluttered mutely, the face angles pulled under tickling her feline brown eyes forcing her to blink. Kurenai screwed her eyes downward to the heliotrope kabuki paint slashes under her defined cheekbones; so cowed of those eyes she wanted to spit, as though her self-hate was the acidic venom gathering between her grinding teeth and her cheek. The woman stepped forward closing the distance of many years and millions of tears between them.
"I'm frightened," she admitted. "He won't listen or speak to me. I know you can reach him." Kurenai turned away, the moonbeams feathery glow doing little to comfort her. Her companion's little speech sounded as though she were trying to convince herself rather than the obstinate scarlet-eyed kunoichi.
"Wakatta."
The dry clumped snow and ice crunched underfoot like bones, bleached and exposed to the elements on the desolate frontlines in the grim aftermath of a climactic battle of an unceasing war. A familiar house in sad disrepair emerged from the grey dullness as the two women trudged up the walk single file, Kurenai bringing up the rear. On the porch was a pair of ANBU standing sentry flanking the closed front door, masked and garbed in their skintight black uniforms accentuating every rigid muscle and plane of their hard maleness. The white body armor contained the violence that had been unleashed several hours earlier on dispatch. Raido and Genma Kurenai instantly recognized and acknowledged them with the faintest of nods as the mounted the steps, they mirrored it and allowed the women admittance.
A solitary lamp was lit and its distance to great from that of the front door where Iruka waved them in closing the door softly behind. As barbaric and unseemly as it was no one had removed their boots on account of the frigid temperature of the floor since the thermostat had not been turned on. Sakura lay in a dead slumber on the beat up green sofa, the living room's sole piece of furniture. Her long pink locks dusted the side of the canvas gently as a cloud. Gai with his turtle mask hanging from his belt laid a meaty hand on Kurenai's slim shoulder and smiled bravely. The beautiful beast volunteered on a mission with his old squadron? Tsunade must have been going all-out. A green and red summoning scroll half the size of her armoire stood in the corner of the room, its long white-haired perverted owner walked through the archway and sat on the sofa careful of undisturbing Sakura's sleep. His moan of relief bespoke the rock Sennin's age.
"You two can go in," Jiraya whispered. They left; Jiraya massaged his closed eyes with his thumb and index finger. A silvery trail of carcinogen snaked its way up looping in the air, Asuma leaned against the wall his flak jacket torn and unzipped hanging open. The hand that he smoked with shook like the last leaf on a dying tree, Kurenai saw the crest he wore about his thick, bodybuilder's waist splattered with blood. Embers dropped to the creases of his uniform shirt without his awareness posed a safety threat… until a pair of nimble slender fingers crushed them out. Yuugao in her ANBU uniform dusted the ashes off Sarutobi's chest to keep herself preoccupied, clusters of her lilac hair looked brittle from the frozen oxidized blood caught in it. The intimacy of the woman's actions as well as the closeness of their bodies did not go unnoticed by Kurenai as she paused. At one time she could have been jealous had Asuma the balls to give up the cancer sticks, but that was not what fate had planned. Into a room they entered and Kurenai knew it fairly well… and nearly screamed at what greeted her eyes. Laid out on a futon was Sasuke, unconscious or asleep she did not know, Anko delicately rolled him to the side to inspect the cursed seal on his back with Ibiki hovering over her. The hexing kanji that fanned like a spider web was restrained within the black circle thanks to the anti-evil spell Jiraya invoked held steadfast. Breath laboring like a wolf was the leader of the famous genin triad, Naruto beneath the shuriken duvet his eyes clamped shut ensnared in a nightmare, sweat matting his blonde spikes to the pillow. Like a penitent mother hen sat the Godaime, wisps of her ash blonde hair mussed every which way as she rocked back and forth on the rickety chair.
"Tsunade-sama…" Kurenai's companion pressed a warm hand on the green silk-covered shoulder grasping the attention of the Niidaime's granddaughter.
He knelt on one knee at what she assumed was an attack stance at the foot of his bed, his dog mask nowhere to be seen transfixed on his students. "Kakashi," Kurenai said. He looked up, the absence of his material mask made her wince.
Sakumo.
She doubted his sanity and doubted hers for that matter but nonetheless did what they expected of her.
"It's going to be alright…"
OWARI