| Clearer Skies Ahead [Genma and Rina] | [Dec. 23rd, 2010|10:34 pm] |
[Backdated: Takes place three and a half years ago, in mid-September, two days after Lightning Strikes Twice.]
Stumbling out the door of Intelligence into the chill night air, Rina was surprised to see the sky still dark. There was something about those windowless debriefing rooms, the dark eyes and cold metal words picking you apart, that made it feel like nations would rise and fall while you were in there.
But no, it had only been a couple of hours. If she were lucky, none of her insomniac family would be awake, and she’d be able to sneak in and leave them a note without actually confronting anyone. Taking the coward’s route, she darted on aching feet through the winding side streets and back alleys of Konoha, fetching up behind a row of tumbledown shops and planting her palms against the smooth brick of one of the more solid buildings. With a twist of chakra that she didn’t really have to spare, she scampered painfully up the wall and through the darkened third story window, layers of intricate seals parting like the gauzy drapes to welcome her home.
The bed, with its plump pillows and softly flowered bedsheets, looked impossibly welcoming, but she still wasn’t quite ready to handle the well-meaning worry and stifling concern she was sure to encounter in the morning. So, with a pang of regret, she changed out of her disgusting and tattered uniform and turned instead towards the writing desk, penning her family a quick note for them to find when they woke.
Reluctantly bypassing the shower as well, since the noise would certainly wake them up, Rina crept down the two flights of creaky stairs, stepping with a careful lightness of foot shared only by ninja and chronically disobedient little girls. Glancing around the corner and seeing no lights in the main room of the bookshop, she finally released the nervous breath she’d been holding, and ventured through the lintel out into the open.
Only to meet the startled brown eyes of her little sister Mikari, hair looped up in pigtails and bent over a thick dusty book in the alcove under the stairs, where — of course — the light couldn’t escape to disturb their sleeping mother and brother. Twin guilty stares met, and then Mikari’s eyes widened further in pleased surprise, limbs tensing to run towards her battered, but obviously alive, older sister.
Unable to help it, Rina flinched.
Freezing in place, Mikari finally looked at her, perceptive gaze scanning over the protective wrap of her arms, the shadows around her eyes, the bruises and scrapes and multiple bandages. Without a word, Mikari nodded slowly, the depth of her relief carefully hidden, and gestured towards the door.
Impossibly grateful, Rina flashed her as much of a smile as she could manage — where did Mikari come from anyway, in this family that can’t even see the noses in front of our faces? — then let her legs carry her past a table piled high with musty scrolls, leaving the note stacked precariously atop them, and out the front door. Leaning against the familiar dark wood and trying to convince her heartbeat to slow, Rina was left with only one question:
Where do I go now? |
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