Sparring
—Is that your ramen I see spilling onto the floor?
He's awake, a frantic scramble of limbs and motel blanket to salvage his beloved noodles.
Just as planned.
A scrunch of brows. He's been had and he knows it.—Good morning, sleepyhead. A quick peck on his nose.
—That was low, Sakura-chan.
—How else to wake you? I tried poking you, but you kept saying Fuck off, Ero-Sennin.
An exhale halfway between a sigh and a groan.—What time is it?
—8:30.
—Why the fuck are we awake? Let's go back to sleep.
He crawls back under the seedy covers, covering himself until only his sunny hair peeks out. But this room could be sunnier.
I throw open the curtains and then toss off his covers, his eyes tightening into stereotypical Oriental slits as he rushes to shade his eyes.
—Fuck, Sakura-chan!
—C'mon, Naruto. Up!
—I'm really starting to hate you right now, he grumbles as he rubs the sleep out of his eyes. What's with the getup?
It's true. In addition to my standard outfit, I've also donned my maroon Mt. Oinari hitae-ate and kunai holster, both of which I haven't worn since the beginning of our vagabondage.
—We are going to spar!
A groan that's almost a scream as he falls back onto the bed with a decisive flump!—Sakura-chaaaan…do we have to?
—Yes, Naruto-baaaakaaaa, I answer pertly, yanking him upright. Think about it: how long has it been since we left Mt. Oinari? At least a year, right? He crosses his arms, face scrunched in thought, for once.—And in that time, no one's come to drag us back as missing-nin. Why do you think that is?
After minutes of straining his brain, he faces me again.—I dunno. What's it matter?
Thick as usual.—It matters because there's only one way to leave your village and not be marked a missing-nin: being an outside agent.
At least, that's the only official way, without Shishou being accused of cronyism for me and Naruto-baka, which I know for a fact is the true reason she let us go.
—And? What does sparring have to do with that?
Cue inward facepalm. Just when he couldn't get any thicker…
—As outside agents, we're liable to be called upon at any time to help defend Mt. Oinari. We have to be prepared for that, I elaborate as I gather his boxers, his jumpsuit, and his black hitae-ate and toss them to him.—Now c'mon! Get dressed!
A heavy sigh as he drags his naked self out of bed, a movement more reminiscent of a Neanderthal oni than the loudmouth knucklehead I know and love.—Just tell me this: how many Monsters have you had?
—I've had five in the past hour and I feel GREAT!
Naruto and I enter our chosen grounds, a secluded wide open area reminiscent of our training grounds in Mt. Oinari with its patches of bare earth and surrounding trees. I can almost hear Kakashi-sensei now, the clap of his book.
Well then…shall we begin?
The objective is the same, only with each other's hitae-ate instead of bells.
We face each other from opposing sides, eyes never averting. Slip of the elbow warmers, tie of the headband, snap of the glove.
Wait. Calm before a storm.
Seconds, minutes, hours, eons pass, then a lightning flash, a glint in the eye, causes one of us to make the first move. Me or Naruto, I don't remember, and it doesn't matter, not with the wind whipping our hair as we dance the shinobi pas de deux. Hail of kunai, tornadoes of shuriken, then the brief but eerie calm of a hurricane's eye before the eye closes, him poof-ing as I land one of my signature punches.
A déjà vu as I scan my horizon. Above. Right. Left. Behind.
Below.
A thunderous boom as the earth beneath my fist cracks into earthquake ruins.
Found you.
The human-sized nine-tails lunges, predator going for the kill. But prey foils him with a backflip that sends a foot to his chest and throws him in a perfect arch.
He lands on his feet, reverts to human form.
Not bad.
Mid-afternoon. The storm has long passed and we're on our backs, staring up at the blue blue sky as our chests heave and our hearts slow. After a minute, I lean on my elbows, look down at Naruto splayed on the ground like a five-pointed star.—There's a waterhole over there, I tell him, gesturing with my head over the hill.—We can take a break and hydrate there.
He nods and I start trekking towards the aforementioned body of water when I see a peripheral flash of orange and black. I meet Naruto's tackle head-on and we wrestle for a few seconds before I push him to the ground with a triumphant Ha!
—Pinned ya!
—Hey, lemme up.
I comply and turn away with a smirk before Naruto tackles me again, my vision flashing blue and green then yellow and orange as we roll down the hill until—
—Pinned ya again!
I get up, take his begrudging hand, pull him to the waterhole. After refilling our thermoses, I cup my hands into a bowl, scoop up all-natural H-two-and-O, splash my face with refreshing coolness. Then I open my eyes, see Naruto flash me that kitsune grin as he runs to the other side of the waterhole and cannonballs into the once placid surface, the water forming a lotus leaf platform.
A flash of orange and black, underwater, then above the surface with a gasp for air and scrambling onto land, panting and wet like a Western baptism. He sidles up to me, complete with that shit-eating grin that I can't help but grin in kind too…before I push him back into the water and run like there's no ashita.
It is on, buddy.
We resume sparring, this time more a romp as we gambol through the field. We reach for each other's hitae-ate, end up linking hands. Our grins never cease even as we wrestle down the hill and I pin him once again.
—Aww. Pinned me again. But he doesn't mind, not this time, not in the position we're in, with nothing but lust in his eyes…
I roll off of him, panting and taking in the now starry sky. Voyeurs, I whisper to myself, amused. Then I hear Naruto with his fox's gekkering.—What's funny?
—I was just thinking to myself: maybe I wouldn't mind these spars after all. Not if they end like this every time.
I let out a snicker, then punch his shoulder. You horndog.
But I'll be honest: the feeling's mutual.
Afterthoughts: Kudos to anyone who can guess what Disney song I referenced!
