| One Step. [Closed to Asuma] |
[Jan. 26th, 2009|01:53 am] |
[Takes place after Playing Hero]
Finding a hairdresser willing to cater to ninja was always a tricky proposition; most of them had long been put off by the typical shinobi reflex to any kind of bladed anything. And they seemed to have a freakin' sixth sense for who was and who wasn't a ninja.
Asuma got himself turned out of four places before he found a little backstreet barbershop off Silverbark Square that rated coin higher than personal safety and didn't care about the dirt on his clothes. Ten minutes and one very small flinch later, he lost two month's worth of beard growth and gained a haircut that didn't fall constantly in his eyes. Short in the back, longer on top.
It was a little weird to feel cool air washing over the nape of his neck, and even weirder to find gel-stiffened spikes whenever he dragged a hand over his head, but it looked a damn sight better. Almost neat, in fact. And just for tonight, when he took his oath, he thought he might care about that.
( Which was why buying new shirts came next on the list. ) |
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| Two Step. [Closed to Asuma] |
[Jan. 26th, 2009|02:12 am] |
[Takes place directly after One Step]
Even deep inside the Hokage's palace, midnight brought a kind of atmosphere with it. Shadows lengthened, silences deepened; even the empty hallways looked menacing, as if a hundred assassins' footprints had bled a watermark through the carpet weave.
And that didn't begin to cover the candles.
Brand new sword strapped across his shoulders, Asuma stood in the doorway to the main upstairs office, flanked by two stiff-backed chuunin, and studied the face of the future.
( It had liverspots. ) |
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| Pleased to meet you, won't you lock me in a cage? [Closed to Asuma & Tsume] |
[Jan. 26th, 2009|02:26 am] |
[Takes place the day after Playing Hero, and an hour after One Step / Two Step]
He should have just gone to bed.
Well, first he should have found the right floor, identified his room, hit on any pretty neighbours, and then gone to bed.
But no, he had to be curious. Because anyone who'd seen the gloomy, unappealing staircase leading downwards by the Quartermaster's cubbyhole would definitely head back to check it out later. It was a perfectly normal human compulsion.
( In crazy people. ) |
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| Slow Dancing in a Burning Room [closed to Natsumi and Ibiki] |
[Jan. 26th, 2009|10:50 am] |
[[Set the day after Hit the Mark ends.]]
Late evening dimmed the room to twilight when Natsumi woke in a tangle of sheets and sweat. Her left shoulder throbbed angrily, and the lingering shreds of a dream teased at her mind. It had not been pleasant.
She sat up, bracing herself on her right hand. The clock on her nightstand blinked 18:35 at her; outside the window, the last color was fading from the sky. When she'd tumbled into bed in the small hours of the morning, too exhausted to do more than shed her clothes and brush her teeth, she'd planned to sleep the clock round. But the nightmare had wakened her, and now she wouldn't be able to fall asleep again for hours.
At home, her parents would just now be settling down to a quiet evening, her mother reading aloud by lamplight while her father trimmed hawk-feathers for arrow fletching. Her brother Takeo might have stopped by for dinner, perhaps with his latest conquest on his arm; he'd be telling stories, illustrating the latest news from the village gossip vine with graceful hands and dancing eyes. If Natsumi showed up now, her old place beside her father would be waiting for her...
No. She kicked back the sheets that trapped her legs and stood up, smoothing the crumpled skirt of her sleeping yukata. Even in the dim light, she could see the bruises that bloomed like dark flowers on her right wrist. Those on her throat and shoulder would undoubtedly be worse. If she went home now, barely five days after her induction to ANBU, with the marks of a strangling still fresh on her throat and the memories of a nightmare still haunting her eyes, her mother and Takeo would know they'd been right.
( And Takeo, at least, would never let her forget it. ) |
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