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Koiuta	By : dragonslover1 Category: Naruto > Het - Male/Female Views: 1149 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Disclaimer: I own nothing of Naruto. Masashi Kishimoto does. I am not profiting from this fanfiction.
Koiuta, Love Song
Eight Agonizing Weeks

She never had to make the decision. It had been done for her. No fight, no struggles, no protests. She wanted him to have whatever he wanted, to bend to his will. If it’s what Shino wanted, she would walk barefoot through boiling lava, even if it meant losing her feet.
Because today was all she could give him anymore. That, and the words. . .
“I love you. I love you, Shino.”
She wanted him to know that, too. If he was going to feel pain at their loss, she hoped those words would comfort him. God knows she could give him nothing else, nothing to cling to when she was gone.
And she knew it, regardless of the fact that he hadn’t said the words: he loved her. The way he looked at her, held her stare, swept his gaze over her body as they made love -- it all told her how he felt. For her, about her.
She wouldn’t let herself feel pain around him. He would know if she did; he always seemed to know what she was feeling. So she bit back the pain in her heart, silenced it, boxed it up. Without that pain, she felt satisfaction, love, euphoria. She felt the pleasure caused by him, by his touch and motions.
She learned about him this time, as well. Last time, she had been too tired, too engulfed, too numb afterwards. She hadn’t been able to think, to react or focus. Now, she did. To make up for the lack during the first time, she did so now.
She watched him, saw him, heard him and felt him. He said her name a lot, but only when his mouth was near her ear. He rubbed his hand up and down her side before reaching for her thigh. When he would cup her breast, he would run first his index finer and then thumb over the peak. He angled his thrusts a particular way.
And she also started learning why he did certain things. He would speak to her ear because she always gave a moan when he did; his breath there felt exquisite. He stroked her breast a specific way because it made her cry out. He was angling his thrusts because it felt so much better for her when he did.
When she grew too loud, overwhelmed, he kissed her. When she came, he held her tight against him. It was like being electrocuted in small bursts, from head to toes and toes to head, from the inside out. It left her reeling, moaning, almost whimpering. When at last her body began following orders again, she looked for him.
He was leaning over her, eyes on her, cascading over every part of her in turn. His gaze stopped, lingered over her stomach. Curious, she tried to see what he was seeing. And she saw white, saw his length resting there. On her. Almost framing her navel. A thrill went through her as the dots connected.
He’d pulled out, she realized, before he came. Careful of pregnancy, thoughtful. She wondered if he’d done it the first time, too. She couldn’t remember. But she found herself thinking she would have liked it very much if hadn’t; then she might be pregnant even now. It would be a gift for her, a part of him to take with her when she leaves.
Her heart broke as she thought those words. As though he could sense it, he caught her eyes. Biting her lip, she sat up, wove her arms around his neck.
Trying for an innocent tone, she said, “Now I’m all messy.”
A devilish kind of smile spread on his face. “I can fix that,” he told her. Before she could react, he had gotten off the bed and swept her up in his arms. For a moment he stood there, holding her gaze, and then he looked up, at her hair. “You always let your hair down in the shower, right?”
She smiled. “I thought as much. You like long hair.”
“Yours is very long.”
She laughed. “Yes it is. And yes, I do.”
“Good.” He took two steps and they were in the bathroom -- the bathroom she hadn’t noticed until he already had her in his arms. She marveled at the thought that he had one all to himself, then realized she had no idea how most of the clan’s home was built. Perhaps her room was a guest room only. She had never thought to ask.
And she didn’t think about it again during the next hour or so. This was because he was washing her, touching her, the entire time. At one point her hand came in contact with his hard length, and though it was an accident, it made her want him all over again. It didn’t take much effort on her part to get through to him. They made love in the shower, against the tile. And again, he pulled out before he came (this time she noticed only because she was thinking about it).
After they had cleaned up for the second time, he dried her off with his towel, holding her against him as he did so. Though he didn’t kiss her much, his breath alone was doing what the lack of kisses weren’t. However, she didn’t think she could take him inside again; she was a little on the sore side after just twice with him. Thankfully, she didn’t have to tell him so -- her eyes conveyed the message for her. With apology on its heels.
They dressed quietly, keeping their hands to themselves, but not their eyes. She saw, more clearly than before, the tiny scars lining him body. Each one was no bigger than the size of a drop of blood, though the scars themselves were almost symmetrical. It resembled, however slightly, a masterpiece of scarred skin. She kept her mouth shut about it, not knowing what he thought.
Before they left, he warned her to avoid his father for a while. She just smiled at him as acknowledgement. She knew, as she watched him go one way and she the other, that this was the last she’d see him. She knew she was going straight back to her room, to pack what little belongings she had. She knew she would visit only the Hokage, to explain her plans. And then, she knew she was going to leave, head for the nearest country, and disappear.
And never tell Shino a thing about it. Silently, her heart shattered further, almost becoming dust in her mind’s eye. She hoped he would forgive her for running. But a future apart was far more appealing to her than a future where she could see him but not touch. And, sadly, it would be safer. She was just. . .removing temptation.
Her words from before returned to her: It’s not like I’m tempting without the promise of delivering.
Now she would neither be tempting nor delivering.
She was a kunoichi, and she told herself as much. She was strong, in control of her emotions -- or at least her expression. When she was stopped and questioned by an old lady of the clan, asked about her pack, she told the lady that she was going to see the Godaime. The pack contained items she wanted to show her.
And the little old lady laughed, patting her on the arm. She said, “Be sure to come back quick. Shino-kun misses you when you’re gone.”
Tasha was infinitely glad the lady was already walking away. Those words were like her own katana cutting through her, tearing her apart. She grimaced visibly, having to push herself onward with much more difficulty.
But what had to be done had to be done.
Tsunade, the Hokage, looked shocked at her wish to leave. “You just applied to be a ninja here,” she argued.
“I have no choice anymore,” Tasha explained. She told the older woman about her chakra jewel, about the danger to her life. About her love for Shino. And finally, about how it was the only option left -- for her to leave.
Tsunade’s eyes were sympathetic then. She allowed Tasha to leave, wished her luck, and apologized.
Though Tasha wondered about the apology, it only lasted a second. Of course Tsunade would apologize. The story was a sad, painful one.
She left in a run, waving goodbye to the entrance’s guards.
From that moment on, things kept happening on a too-fast, too-slow basis. When she was in motion, moving, time was flowing too fast. When she was working, she couldn’t catch up to the second that had just passed. But when she was still, silent, and alone, each and every second was much too slow. She normally slept three or four hours a night, now even less, unable to get to sleep quickly. She stayed up for hours on end, trying to ignore her aching heart, trying to forget the warmth she once knew, trying not to envision silver eyes staring back at her.
On the up side, she learned fast to take advantage of this. She kept running for longer hours, until she was completely exhausted.
Her destination approached rapidly by that point. Southeast, always southeast -- heading for the Land of Water. She’d have to cross by boat eventually, but she didn’t mind. That is, until she’d boarded the ship and discovered she could get seasick. Four days after leaving Konoha, she had reached the Water Country.
From there, she kept her identity a secret -- had been switching names since she left Konoha. She called herself Yue now, claimed her katana and kodachi were nothing more than namesakes. She pretended to be weak, incapable of hard labor. She got a job in small restaurant, where mostly tourists frequented. She practiced a fake life story in her alone time. She kept up fake smiles, fake joy, fake enthusiasm.
Two weeks after she started her job, she noticed the increase of male patrons. When they thought she was out of earshot, they complimented her, called her cute or a babe. Each and every word depressed her, because she could imagine Shino saying those same things. And thinking of Shino reminded her that he wasn’t here, that she’d left him, that she’d lost the love of her life.
Then nature confirmed that she wasn’t pregnant, and the despair around her increased. Each day that passed was harder to live in than the previous. She began thinking, late at night, how much happier she might be, if only she had stayed with him. Even at the risk her life? It was worth it, she decided. To be with Shino, it was worth it.
But even though she made the decision, over and over, to go back, she could never bring herself to do it. Other images came to mind in the mornings, of him enjoying himself without her. A particular scenario played out in her mind, against her will. She would come back, find him, hug him. And he would ask her who she was and why she was hugging him.
And every time she thought of it, pain would come. Severe, blinding. Like her skin was being slowly peeled off. At night, thinking of Shino, longing for him, she would decide to return. But during the daylight hours, haunting thoughts plagued her. How could she go back now? Week after week, the idea came more and more forcefully -- that he would reject her. One way or another, he would reject her. She betrayed him and left; how could he possibly accept her back?
Every day that she was here and he wasn’t coming for her told her enough. Occasionally she did think he was around, would look, but no. It was just her mind, missing him, wanting him. It wasn’t his habit to let her know he was there, just to disappear. He would let her get a glimpse of him first.
And besides, how could she feel him there? She’d purposefully turned off those senses, as much as she could. No seeing through illusions, no sensing others nearby, no reading beneath the expressions she saw. It was the best way to fit her role as an ordinary waitress.
She pretended to be slow, difficult to catch on. Over the next month, more than a few boys confessed to having a crush on her. She turned the phrases up on their sides, pretending to have a lot of trouble understanding. Then, once the boys had spelled it out for her, she pretended to be flustered and flattered. And then she would decline, always the same way: “I don’t like boys. I’m sorry, but I like girls.”
Undoubtedly it gave many of them things to daydream, scenarios to pleasure themselves to. She didn’t care. After all, she was no more than a lesbian waitress at a tourist restaurant, named Yue, with three namesake blades at home.
One boy in particular, Yukito, didn’t want to give up. She tried not to talk to him for any length of time, but it was difficult when she was playing the part of a ditz. He kept claiming that their names, Yukito and Yue, were fated names. Son of the snow and daughter of the moon, he said. White and white. She was thankful that her boss kept her moving, breaking her out of conversations with customers. It helped, not just in keeping arm’s distance from everyone else, but also in helping her keep moving.
Because it was only in moving that it didn’t hurt.
She counted the days against her will, as they passed. She needed no calendar to know what day it was. It was December seventh, fifty-nine days since she’d left Konoha. Yukito was complimenting her, cooing over her work kimono, pointing out how well her jewel matched her eyes. He said he imagined her wearing a white kimono with blue accents of that same shade. She pretended to find it an engrossing idea. Pretended to be that shallow.
And masked the shock as she realized that, once, she had been that shallow. It was strange how love and heartbreak put things into perspective, reminded you of what was important, what was trivial -- and what was painful.
A man at the table beside them spoke up, “Is that boy bothering you, ma’am?”
She smiled at the man. Much as she wanted to agree and have Yukito dragged from here, she shook her head. “No. Yukito-san is a frequent customer.”
“I see him here often,” the man went on, glaring at Yukito. “Is there something between you two? Something you need ended?”
How kind, she thought, going out on a limb like that for an average girl. She took a moment, making it appear as though she were considering it. “No, I don’t think so. I mean, I’m serving him right now, eh, Yukito-san?” She turned the smile on Yukito, who grinned back.
“Yue-chan!” her boss snapped, Juro, the cook. He whacked the spatula in his hand against the counter. “The dishes?” He gestured two plates on the counter, both with heaping helpings on them.
“Oh, pardon me!” she gasped, feigning embarrassment. She nodded to both patrons and hurried over.
When she reached for the plates, Juro leaned in. Quietly, he said, “You need to tell that boy off, for good. He keeps getting in the way.”
“Eh?” was her response. “But he’s nice. He only ever comes here to tell me how good I look, or invite me to parties. He’s not causing trouble.” She kept a confused expression in place, as though she couldn’t understand what Juro meant.
He looked exasperated. He waved her off, saying, “Table four.”
“I know, Juro-san,” she smiled.
Some time later, Yukito remained, though the kindly man had gone. Seven customers remained seated, most eating, two waiting on their orders. Yukito’s table was bare, not even a drink on it. She approached him.
“Juro-san says he doesn’t want seat-warmers,” she commented. With a ditzy smile, she added, “I don’t get what he means, but he always says it when someone is sitting and not ordering.”
Yukito was smiling. “It means I’m a bump on a log,” he explained.
She screwed up her face. “That makes even less sense.”
He laughed outright. “It means I’m taking up space.” He looked at her fondly. “What do you suggest I do?”
She whistled. In actuality, she wanted him to leave. And never return, if such a feat were possible. “Mm. . . Juro-san has something. . .what was it called? Sweet and cold and frozen. . .”
“Ice cream?”
“That was it! You could order that,” she offered. “The ice cream.”
“What flavors do you have?”
He was flirting, she realized. Shamelessly. But as long as she kept having to play the part, then. . . “Strawberry, chocolate, blueberry, vanilla, banana, and cookie dough,” she listed.
“Blueberry,” he nodded. “Because it matches your eyes.”
She was too exhausted with the man to point out that blueberries were much darker than her eyes. She went to Juro with the order. Almost immediately the dish was set before Yukito and he ate it slowly, watching her.
She had made two more passes around the small area when she heard the door open. Recited lines fell from her lips as she turned to greet the customer. “Hello, and welcome to -- Shino!” Her voice sharpened at the last word, almost strangled.
Because there he was, just as she knew him. Covered head to toe, of course, hands in coat pockets. All at once her kunoichi training surged up, each sense zeroing in on him. It was like staring in the face of your worst nightmare, come to life -- only her nightmare also happened to be her vision of Heaven. In the next two seconds, a multitude of things happened.
He looked at her, pulled his sunglasses off. She took a step back, hand finding the counter beside her, needing the support. She was aware of the entire restaurant’s seven patrons looking their way, and Juro as well. Nearby, Yukito stabbed his spoon into the dish of ice cream.
And Shino said, “Eight weeks.”
She glanced away. “I know that.”
“You left without saying anything!” he snapped.
She flinched; she’d never seen him mad before. Even that day he’d saved her from rape or worse, he’d been quietly calm. Sure, his aura had written a different story, but his words and demeanor were under complete control. In the face of his anger, she didn’t know what to say. Her heart thudded painfully, tearing through all the clumsy stitching she’d been holding it together with. Her lip trembled.
Yukito surged to his feet, took up a place in front of her. He had guts, she admitted, standing before a Jounin-level ninja (even if he didn’t know that fact) who also happened to be much taller than he was. “I don’t know who you are, but you’ll leave Yue-chan alone!” he shot back.
Shino’s gaze slid to the new man, then back to her. She saw betrayal in his eyes, added to the riot that was his aura now.
She choked on a laugh, waving her hands back and forth. “Yukito-san’s not. . .just no.”
Shino took a step closer to Yukito, towering over him. Yukito was already wavering, though he stood his ground. Shino said, “Get out of the way.”
She could see a bloody end to this if she didn’t stop it. She shoved Yukito aside, saying, “Okay, Yukito-san, your point is made. Off you go. Go on.” She tried to shoo him.
“Hey, hey!” Juro bellowed, slapping his spatula repeatedly. He was no small man, almost as tall as Shino, and much broader from years of excess. He had saved poor, defenseless Yue many times in the past weeks, though usually by figuratively throwing his weight around. He came around the counter now, hell bent on stopping whatever was about to start.
If the remaining six patrons weren’t fully paying attention before, they were now.
Yukito reached for her. Shino noticed. Before anyone else could react, he had the smaller man by the collar.
“I will end you,” he snarled.
“There’s no need for that, darling,” she rushed out, grasping both of his hands. She had never seen this ferocity in him before. It scared her.
“Darling?” Yukito repeated, shaking but still focused.
Shino had his arms around her in an instant. She replied to Yukito, “Yes.”
“But you’re a lesbian,” Yukito said, the words almost a question.
She rolled her eyes, looked up at Shino. Now there was confusion added to his expression.
“I don’t care who’s with who,” Juro said, reaching them. He pointed his spatula at Shino. “You, no harassing my waitresses!”
“I’m your only waitress,” she pointed out.
“You, don’t talk back,” he said to her. “And you,” he pointed at Yukito, “sit back down and eat or pay and leave.”
Shino ignored him. Most everyone did. He said, “Do you know how long eight weeks is?”
“Fifty-nine days,” she snapped back, indignant. “One-thousand, two-hundred, ninety-eight hours. Give or take.” She pushed herself back. “And you waited that long.”
“No, I didn’t,” he shot back, and she could hear him fighting for control. “I went after you. Do you know how hard you were to track?”
She sighed harshly. “I made it that way on purpose. And I should’ve kept moving.” She looked away.
“What --” He broke off, fuming. “You wanted me to never find you again?!”
“Exactly!” Why she was so angry was a mystery. The whole situation was out of control.
“Why?” he demanded. “What did I do, huh?! Say the wrong thing, ask the wrong question?! Was I little too rough and you decided to leave rather than tell me about it?!”
Her face burned, eyes going wide. “I really don’t think this is the time to be talking about this,” she bit out.
“Fine, let’s go.” He pulled her closer again.
Both Yukito and Juro protested -- well, so did she, but her reason was that she didn’t want to be dragged around, regardless of who did it. She spun, getting out of the grasp. “Don’t manhandle me!” she snapped.
He closed the space between them in one step and kissed her. A rough, deep kiss, at that; she had less than an instant to react, and then his tongue was sweeping through her mouth. Suddenly she forgot why she was mad, why she’d been fighting. For the sake of fighting itself? She gave a weak moan, realizing then how much she’d been missing him.
Yukito and Juro both came at them, not knowing that Shino was a ninja giving them extra courage. And Shino had to break the kiss to react, a fact that was clearly pissing him off. He shoved Yukito with one hand, sending the smaller man sprawling back. He flipped over the table, toppling it, his ice cream soaring to smash against a wall. Juro was backhanded with the other arm, felling him.
She did a double-take at the mayhem, which increased when the patrons all stood up. Someone yelled, and then everyone was moving.
She hit Shino on the arm. “All you’re doing is causing chaos!” she snapped. She gave him a disapproving look.
“You did the exact same thing,” he shot back, returning her glare. “I’ve been going insane!”
“I can see that,” she ground out. “Look, go outside. I’ll meet you there in a minute. And then we can talk. All night, if you want, huh? Is that acceptable?”
“Don’t patronize me,” he told her. Then he seemed to think it over, glancing at a recovering Yukito and what appeared to be an unconscious Juro. The patrons all froze in place, eyes on the couple. He finally returned his gaze to her, then replaced his sunglasses. “Thirty seconds.” He headed for the door.
“More than I need,” she all but sighed. With effort, she righted the table, steadied Yukito, and woke up Juro.
“What was all that?” Yukito asked, gesturing the door.
“That was Shino, my boyfriend,” she answered. The façade she’d been using up till now was dropped.
He was surprised. “You said you were a lesbian.”
“Yeah, well, I lied.” She nodded towards the door. “And he’s a super awesome ninja.”
“So this is one of those crazy ex-boyfriend things?” Juro said.
“No.” She shook her head. “We’re in love. I just had to leave for a while.”
“Without him,” Juro pointed out.
“Without his knowledge,” she agreed with difficulty. And then she smiled. “But he came for me anyway.”
“Yue-chan,” Juro started, “if he’s bothering you. . .”
“My name is Tasha,” she clarified. “And now I have to go.” She patted him on the arm. “Thanks for taking care of me all this time.”
Juro looked like he didn’t know what to say. Yukito, however, had no such qualm. He burst out, “You can’t go back to that beast!”
“Oh, you’re just saying that cause he pushed you over,” she chided. “Quit being such a bitch.”
“You -- I thought you were meek!”
“Everything I told you about myself? Yeah, it was all lies. Both of you,” she clarified. She gave them both a salute. “Sorry, but you’ll have to find a new waitress, and a new object of affection.”
“But. . .” Yukito looked lost. “You were so cute before.”
“That’s changed?” She tossed him a smirk. “For the best, I guess.”
- - -
Note: A kodachi is the same thing as a katana, but with a shorter blade. Think longsword-shortsword. I know I described Tasha’s weapons as three katana, but in fact, I always envisioned the two at her sides to be kodachi. I just didn’t know the names for them were different.
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Koiuta