Lemons
I don't know if I could stand
another hand upon you
All I know is that I should......
She is so young and unnecessarily lovely when I first see her, that suddenly everything fits into perspective and it all makes sense. So it feels like I should gather It up, It being all of the strands of jealously and anger and sadness. And braiding Them together let Them lock Themselves in a box and be put away. Somewhere They will extinguish one another before I will forget my pretense at self control and be drawn to Them, empty fingers longing for satisfaction. It is obvious that he and she are made for each other.
Since the sort of split with Kakashi my hands have felt empty, and nothing has been able to fill them. No food. No hobby. No understanding. No Asuma. I sit and worry and wonder why the air passes through them and escapes in slices between the fingers. I lie in bed at night awake, palms up and open, fingers just barely curling around something that's not really there, but feels as if it's sucking the life out of me.
And I can only dream of him and his body that was like my bread then, and the taste of his lips, and the strong smell of cinnamon that hid like a defiant child in the crevices of his body that I liked to search. And his living silver hair that swam like silk ribbons through my fingers. But I don't ever dare to say his name. Not even to whisper it. Not even in conversation to Asuma who believes I am finally firmly satisfied with my life. Who thought enough to buy me a charm bracelet sparkling with little dangling cat faces.
By the third day it all became too much. I left for Tanzaku Town to the market in search of those perfect little round grapes, because they're all I can think of that might serve as some connection. And like the speaking of the devil's name I see her. There she is.
It's uncommon. The way she looks and the way she's dressed. In a dress that is cut lower than most of the village elders would approve in front, and clings like a paper seal in back. And her hips are round and expand smoother, wider than I remember. Legs used to parting, I think at first. Then bite it back.
At first glance she's too short. And the spiky messy array of her hair is off putting. This much is easy to say. But there's just something about her. Some radiation emanating from her bones that cuts into your empty space. I see the length of her neck, and the curve of her spine. I see her mouth, how it's made like a clock to turn up at just the right time and smile a smile that must be as piercing as they eyes. Which are the murky color, grey-gold, of a hazel nut almost. But is more like aged champagne. Is more like broken bottles dyed by sunset and filled with dreams scrawled on papers sealed, and sent off on the river.
I see that her energy is taking over the area and my God she's a beautiful woman. I turn away instantly and bury my eyes in the display of grapes. I try to deny it, but I can see that everyone else in the market is looking at her too. Is watching her, and weighing her, and whispering. And she moves over to the fruit and starts picking up the lemons one by one. Her hands are large and strong and wide. The knuckles are big and the caramel colored nail beds look delectable. I can't bring myself to not hate her. I can't bring myself to look away.
Her skin glows like polished china. She has that air about her. She is an entity. And it all makes sense that he....that she picks up the lemon and bites into it, skin and all, the yellow bursting wide open and seeming to paint her face in sunshine.
The juices squirt everywhere and down her chin, and I see her head tilt back, and the laughter that comes out of it seems five times too big for her. She says "Yep, that's a good one." She takes the bitten into lemon to the vendor and three more and pays for them while his diluted eyes are transfixed on her breasts through the slit in her dress.
And I know that I should turn away, duck my head and fade into the grapes. But even when she's done paying, and turns around to go. Even when our eyes meet I continue to stare back just as the vendor stares at her back as if her shoulder blades were made of precious metals.
"Kurenai!" Anko exclaims loudly, and as she comes towards me I find it in myself to force a smile. I half hope that she will wrap me in an awkward hug so that some of her light will transpose onto me, and half hope that she will hug me so that I can force a kunai between her shoulder blades.
"Anko." I say fighting a grimace. And she doesn't hug me. But she does touch my arm briefly. The light stays with her, it doesn't move to me. It must be a sign.
She is still smiling widely at me. And she looks like Him. I can see Him all over her. I am beginning to feel sick again. I reach for a pound of grapes.
"How are you?" asks Anko, waving around the hand that holds the lemons, the injured lemon still spurting juice. She licks it off her fingers. I watch her tongue and wonder if she.....no. "Fine, Anko. I'm....I'm good." I say. Be happy. Act natural. Act happy. Be natural. I smile.
I rip off one of those little plastic bags and put some grapes into it. "You sure?" asks Anko. I pause. What is she getting at? Does she know after all? Did he tell her? I look into her eyes. She' s still smiling. "Yes...." I say.
"Oh!" she laughs. "I thought you'd be a little miffed. About the mission and all. You know having to drop in and fill my position on such a short notice. If you ask me you're way better at this kind of thing anyway so I don't know why Lady Tsunade didn't choose you to begin with. You know...this...espionage stuff..." Anko grins.
Espionage? I must have been zoned out when Tsunade was detailing that little part. Nevertheless I don't show any surprise to Anko. She flips those rowdy bangs of hers and the light goes out and then back in to her.
"It's no problem since you're sick." I say. Anko tilts her head back and laughs again, and heads turn but she doesn't seem to notice. "Yeah, man." she says and leans in to elbow me conspiratorially, winking one dream gold eye.
"Sick." she laughs.
And her grin spreads so wide that it might envelope both of us. I wonder briefly what it might be like to be trapped inside her mouth behind that wide white grin. He seems to like it there.
"You're not sick?" I ask. "Oh yeah." she says and waves it away with her hand again, making the lemons spit. "Just not the kind of sick you're thinking of I just need leave time."
Well, how many kinds of sick are there? "I'm confused." I confess. "Well," she says and looks up at me from under those dye purple bangs. And then she does something odd. Something I will never be able to erase from my mind.
She reaches down and pulls the material of her dress taut against her midriff. And at first I don't get it. But then....I understand. Then, I see it. The slight bulge of her stomach. Small, but round and firm and protruding and THERE. The grin has reached the limits of wide and brightness. "Two months in, baby." she says.
I turn away and throw up.
WHAM BAM THANK YOU MA'AM! There you have it !Twisting and turning is our little plot muahahaha hehehe. Aren't you excited??? Review as usual, plz.
