meme fic part 1
Drabbles (part 1) from this meme post ages ago:
For fujiko1601: Ino | in the flower shop, off-duty ninja-style
By the end of the morning, three people have come into the Yamanaka flower shop. The first is old lady Masuyo-who-lives-down-the-street, who comes in every two days for fresh lilies-even as the door swings closed, Ino is already picking up the slender bouquet she prepares in advance. “I hope your day’s going well so far,” she says, and secretly wishes she could’ve made it to the final round of the chuunin exams instead of Shikamaru so she could fob this job onto him with excuses to train. He’d like it: no practice, no expectations, nothing but to sit at the desk and look ordinary.
On second thought, he’d be horrible. He wouldn’t bother to sit upright when he could lie down, and he couldn’t charm anyone for his life.
“My old bones are creaking.” But old lady Masuyo looks inordinately pleased. “That means it’ll rain later today, you know. About time, my garden needs its water.”
“Yes,” Ino agrees. It’s always good to agree with customers. “It’s been very harsh on the flowers.”
“If you’re taking proper care of them, they should be fine.” There’s something in old lady Masuyo’s voice saying, And I hope that even though you’re such a little young girl you’ll know that much at least. Ino bears it and smiles. Even her eyebrows don’t twitch. So maybe Masuyo can be condescending, but she’s also a regular customer-and anyway, Ino could do with some practice at controlling her facial muscles. She stays outwardly placid and beaming, even at Masuyo’s back.
The second customer she orders off without remorse. The pesky four-year-old Akio uses the flower shop as-“Out,” Ino repeats flatly to his pleading face. “Go play hide-and-seek somewhere else.” She might’ve been kinder to him once, but all chances of that flew out the window when he opened a sack of potting soil and knocked over a row of orchids.
“Sister’s going to find me though,” he mumbles, looking crestfallen that he hadn’t been able to sneak in unnoticed. Really now, Ino thinks, he doesn’t think I pay attention to the bell on the door?
“There’s a garbage can across the street. Or else I’ll make you.” Ino can pull a glare like nothing else.
Two Akio-free hours later, the bell tinkles. Ino’s mood suddenly lifts considerably. Aihara Taiki lives in one of the smaller settlements about a day’s travel from Konoha; he’s a good listener, quiet and kind and full of wry humor. He comes to Konoha every month to buy supplies for his town, and always remembers to stop by, buy a bouquet, and say hello. “Taiki-san,” she trills. “Flowers for your mother again?”
“Yes, please, Ino-san,” he says, leaning against the counter. “By the way, is your father in the back?”
She raises her eyebrow as she smooths out wrapping paper. “He’s in his office,” she replies. “Something odd the matter?”
“Ah, just-“ he drums his fingers on the counter. “There’s a bunch of weeds which just invaded my garden, and I can’t figure them out. I was wondering if your father could recommend something-they keep choking up the flowers.”
“I see.” Ino purses her lips and glances down at Taiki’s hand, rough and callused, marked with old scars healed over-for the skin remembers as much as the mind does. “Go on back, he could definitely hear you out and help.” He will. Yamanaka Inoichi runs a low-key, but efficient, information network; it’s easier, quieter, safer for people to innocently buy flowers than to relay suspicions to Konoha’s on-duty ninja.
Taiki nods, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Thanks, Ino-san,” he calls out as he goes into the back.
Ino pulls out a pair of scissors for pruning and thinks that maybe she’ll drag Chouji and Shikamaru out to train in the afternoon. Some of the shop’s customers have lately been muttering about weeds more and more. Damn pesky, but with work a ninja can manage to root them out. They just need to know where they are.
She palms a few notes into her pocket to buy Chouji a packet of chips later, and snips off a petunia’s disease-mottled leaves.
For helike: Itachi, Shisui, Shizuka | the BLANKET OF DOOM
“What luck!” Shisui spreads his hands out gleefully. “Good to be working with you again, Falcon.”
Itachi just gives him the gimlet eye. He doesn’t look half as enthusiastic, but then again, he never looks particularly enthusiastic about anything. Shisui’s used to it by now; he remembers telling Uchiha Mikoto once that her eldest had two faces, the expressionless one and the glaring one-“But he’s clearly missing something, where’s the adoring face for me?” Afterwards he’d found the tips of his kunai broken off cleanly.
Really, Shisui thinks, Itachi is too unkind-cool enough for Shisui to choose to hang out with him, but he plainly can’t take a compliment. Probably too many phony compliments from freaky Uchiha Inabi, who as far as Shisui is concerned has the worst fashion sense ever. He’s called Inabi a drowned ferret before.
… Well, he certainly looks like one.
The door creaks open. Shizuka stalks in; sees them; stops short. “Never mind,” she declares, “I’m going back to request a reassignment.”
“Shizuka!” Shisui gives her a puppy dog look. Come on, come on-damn. She’s so used to it that she doesn’t even acknowledge his facial expression. “I already told you I didn’t mean it-“
Shizuka rolls her eyes. “Oh yes, and your wonderful timing. Intent doesn’t excuse the result.”
Itachi looks bemused. “Shisui did pay the fumigation costs…”
“Well, of course, thank him for messing around in headquarters! Itachi, I’m glad that you preferred not to get fried to a crisp and moved out of the way, but Shisui is just irresponsible.”
“Hey, hey, I’m allowed to behave differently when I’m on missions and when I’m off,” Shisui protests. “It was just a blanket-“
“-a blanket which was doused in poison, its combustion resulting in a poisonous haze, so obviously it was just a blanket,” Itachi murmurs. Maybe Itachi doesn’t have many different faces, but he doesn’t need to; his eyes show enough, and right now Shisui wants to sulk. Itachi’s having fun at Shisui’s expense, and one time is already too much. There are many better sources of amusement than himself-I am a poor, poor sod, Shisui sighs to himself.
Shizuka looks cross. “I was in the hospital for two days. Waste of my time, you airhead.”
“Maybe it just shows you’re destined to be stuck with us always,” he chirps instead, but he can see the tides turning on him and quickly starts calculating the distance to the door in his head. He can definitely do it if he just shifts over here a bit-
And as Shizuka hisses and starts forward, he pulls his trademark Shunshin and gets the hell out of there, because a ticked-off Shizuka inevitably means spontaneous blow-ups.
Itachi’ll survive; he always does. So Shisui grins and trips off to the mission desk. The secretary on duty right now adores mochi, and he’s always been able to get a free snack.
For scarlet_pencil: Shikamaru & Naruto | cloud-watching
Despite his long absence from the village, Naruto could guess well enough at Shikamaru’s usual places: a bar tucked in the corner of the street next to the Academy, the games shop which smelled of cigar smoke and tangerines, the gently rolling hill where he spent his time staring up into the sky, as if he could float along as lazily as the clouds seemed to roll by.
“That one looks like a tree,” he said, and flopped down, wrinkling his nose at the thin trail of smoke which hung in a crooked spiral around Shikamaru’s mouth.
Shikamaru glanced over at him, shifting his cigarette to the side. “I think it’s a stag,” was the reply. “More antlers than branches. And that one looks like a bowl of ramen,” he continued, indicating one cloud off to the right.
“Oh come on, that one isn’t even big enough!”
“Fine. A bowl of ramen after you’ve devastated it.” Shikamaru’s eyes were still half-closed, but now his mouth was curving up at the corners. The spiral of smoke blurred and wavered as his cigarette changed position.
“Nah,” Naruto said; he stretched out and dug his heels into the ground. “More like your bowl of ramen. That I’m going to eat anyway.”
“Don’t even try.”
Naruto snickered and let his head fall back on the palms of his hands, left elbow sticking out and poking Shikamaru’s shoulder. He remembered, as an Academy student skipping class, the times he and Kiba and Chouji had rough-housed around, leaving Shikamaru to lie in the grass and gaze upwards, wrapped up in the bubble of his own mind. Naruto had always tried to be loud to get attention from others, for only then could he hope that people knew he was there-he had found Shikamaru, lazy and yielding and unwilling to step forth, a “nice kid,” but alien nonetheless to his own perception of the world as one which demanded the loudest of audible expression in return for any sign of acknowledgment.
In the stillness where he felt the leaves of grass pressing against his skin-it was, perhaps, a strange place to ground yourself as an entity in the world. But Naruto didn’t need noise anymore, and so he lay there, side by side with Shikamaru, and said nothing.
For shaitanah: Suigetsu | omnomnom all the ways it matters
He shoved the spoon into his mouth upside-down, upending yogurt on his tongue and letting it melt. “You’re a bloody stick,” he said around the utensil, and slowly drew it out; the sharp points of his teeth left behind shallow markings in the plastic. “The girls are making eyes, even the waiter stopped by to ogle, and you don’t even bother smiling at them.”
Sasuke didn’t smile. “It’s a waste of time.”
“So you think,” Suigetsu muttered, pushing his chair back and balancing on the back legs. “I suppose it’s more satisfying to bludgeon what you need out of people than to flirt with them?” Also, Orochimaru stole your libido, but I guess you don’t like to spread that news around.
“Or electrocute them,” Sasuke allowed. His face shifted with amusement.
“Or string them up, with their guts-right on a line, and topped with a lime-“ Suigetsu stopped. “You can’t possibly find that objectionable,” he said accusingly at Sasuke’s raised eyebrows. “You’ve seen enough dead bodies in your life. It’s just a little ditty.”
“Lime juice on guts?”
“Oh yes,” Suigetsu commented. “It’s a very special sort of flavor, you should try it.”
“It’s unfortunate they don’t have gut-and-lime flavored yogurt then,” Sasuke said levelly.
Suigetsu grinned and brought the front legs of his chair down with a slam. “The real thing’s the best,” he said. “I’ll introduce you to it properly some time.”
Apparently I cannot write actual drabbles, because they just start growing; you can tell where I forced myself to stop, because I have the feeling that most of the endings are rather awkward. Oh well. >_< All the non-Naruto prompts will be up in part 2 once I get around to writing them. XD;;
For fujiko1601: Ino | in the flower shop, off-duty ninja-style
By the end of the morning, three people have come into the Yamanaka flower shop. The first is old lady Masuyo-who-lives-down-the-street, who comes in every two days for fresh lilies-even as the door swings closed, Ino is already picking up the slender bouquet she prepares in advance. “I hope your day’s going well so far,” she says, and secretly wishes she could’ve made it to the final round of the chuunin exams instead of Shikamaru so she could fob this job onto him with excuses to train. He’d like it: no practice, no expectations, nothing but to sit at the desk and look ordinary.
On second thought, he’d be horrible. He wouldn’t bother to sit upright when he could lie down, and he couldn’t charm anyone for his life.
“My old bones are creaking.” But old lady Masuyo looks inordinately pleased. “That means it’ll rain later today, you know. About time, my garden needs its water.”
“Yes,” Ino agrees. It’s always good to agree with customers. “It’s been very harsh on the flowers.”
“If you’re taking proper care of them, they should be fine.” There’s something in old lady Masuyo’s voice saying, And I hope that even though you’re such a little young girl you’ll know that much at least. Ino bears it and smiles. Even her eyebrows don’t twitch. So maybe Masuyo can be condescending, but she’s also a regular customer-and anyway, Ino could do with some practice at controlling her facial muscles. She stays outwardly placid and beaming, even at Masuyo’s back.
The second customer she orders off without remorse. The pesky four-year-old Akio uses the flower shop as-“Out,” Ino repeats flatly to his pleading face. “Go play hide-and-seek somewhere else.” She might’ve been kinder to him once, but all chances of that flew out the window when he opened a sack of potting soil and knocked over a row of orchids.
“Sister’s going to find me though,” he mumbles, looking crestfallen that he hadn’t been able to sneak in unnoticed. Really now, Ino thinks, he doesn’t think I pay attention to the bell on the door?
“There’s a garbage can across the street. Or else I’ll make you.” Ino can pull a glare like nothing else.
Two Akio-free hours later, the bell tinkles. Ino’s mood suddenly lifts considerably. Aihara Taiki lives in one of the smaller settlements about a day’s travel from Konoha; he’s a good listener, quiet and kind and full of wry humor. He comes to Konoha every month to buy supplies for his town, and always remembers to stop by, buy a bouquet, and say hello. “Taiki-san,” she trills. “Flowers for your mother again?”
“Yes, please, Ino-san,” he says, leaning against the counter. “By the way, is your father in the back?”
She raises her eyebrow as she smooths out wrapping paper. “He’s in his office,” she replies. “Something odd the matter?”
“Ah, just-“ he drums his fingers on the counter. “There’s a bunch of weeds which just invaded my garden, and I can’t figure them out. I was wondering if your father could recommend something-they keep choking up the flowers.”
“I see.” Ino purses her lips and glances down at Taiki’s hand, rough and callused, marked with old scars healed over-for the skin remembers as much as the mind does. “Go on back, he could definitely hear you out and help.” He will. Yamanaka Inoichi runs a low-key, but efficient, information network; it’s easier, quieter, safer for people to innocently buy flowers than to relay suspicions to Konoha’s on-duty ninja.
Taiki nods, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Thanks, Ino-san,” he calls out as he goes into the back.
Ino pulls out a pair of scissors for pruning and thinks that maybe she’ll drag Chouji and Shikamaru out to train in the afternoon. Some of the shop’s customers have lately been muttering about weeds more and more. Damn pesky, but with work a ninja can manage to root them out. They just need to know where they are.
She palms a few notes into her pocket to buy Chouji a packet of chips later, and snips off a petunia’s disease-mottled leaves.
For helike: Itachi, Shisui, Shizuka | the BLANKET OF DOOM
“What luck!” Shisui spreads his hands out gleefully. “Good to be working with you again, Falcon.”
Itachi just gives him the gimlet eye. He doesn’t look half as enthusiastic, but then again, he never looks particularly enthusiastic about anything. Shisui’s used to it by now; he remembers telling Uchiha Mikoto once that her eldest had two faces, the expressionless one and the glaring one-“But he’s clearly missing something, where’s the adoring face for me?” Afterwards he’d found the tips of his kunai broken off cleanly.
Really, Shisui thinks, Itachi is too unkind-cool enough for Shisui to choose to hang out with him, but he plainly can’t take a compliment. Probably too many phony compliments from freaky Uchiha Inabi, who as far as Shisui is concerned has the worst fashion sense ever. He’s called Inabi a drowned ferret before.
… Well, he certainly looks like one.
The door creaks open. Shizuka stalks in; sees them; stops short. “Never mind,” she declares, “I’m going back to request a reassignment.”
“Shizuka!” Shisui gives her a puppy dog look. Come on, come on-damn. She’s so used to it that she doesn’t even acknowledge his facial expression. “I already told you I didn’t mean it-“
Shizuka rolls her eyes. “Oh yes, and your wonderful timing. Intent doesn’t excuse the result.”
Itachi looks bemused. “Shisui did pay the fumigation costs…”
“Well, of course, thank him for messing around in headquarters! Itachi, I’m glad that you preferred not to get fried to a crisp and moved out of the way, but Shisui is just irresponsible.”
“Hey, hey, I’m allowed to behave differently when I’m on missions and when I’m off,” Shisui protests. “It was just a blanket-“
“-a blanket which was doused in poison, its combustion resulting in a poisonous haze, so obviously it was just a blanket,” Itachi murmurs. Maybe Itachi doesn’t have many different faces, but he doesn’t need to; his eyes show enough, and right now Shisui wants to sulk. Itachi’s having fun at Shisui’s expense, and one time is already too much. There are many better sources of amusement than himself-I am a poor, poor sod, Shisui sighs to himself.
Shizuka looks cross. “I was in the hospital for two days. Waste of my time, you airhead.”
“Maybe it just shows you’re destined to be stuck with us always,” he chirps instead, but he can see the tides turning on him and quickly starts calculating the distance to the door in his head. He can definitely do it if he just shifts over here a bit-
And as Shizuka hisses and starts forward, he pulls his trademark Shunshin and gets the hell out of there, because a ticked-off Shizuka inevitably means spontaneous blow-ups.
Itachi’ll survive; he always does. So Shisui grins and trips off to the mission desk. The secretary on duty right now adores mochi, and he’s always been able to get a free snack.
For scarlet_pencil: Shikamaru & Naruto | cloud-watching
Despite his long absence from the village, Naruto could guess well enough at Shikamaru’s usual places: a bar tucked in the corner of the street next to the Academy, the games shop which smelled of cigar smoke and tangerines, the gently rolling hill where he spent his time staring up into the sky, as if he could float along as lazily as the clouds seemed to roll by.
“That one looks like a tree,” he said, and flopped down, wrinkling his nose at the thin trail of smoke which hung in a crooked spiral around Shikamaru’s mouth.
Shikamaru glanced over at him, shifting his cigarette to the side. “I think it’s a stag,” was the reply. “More antlers than branches. And that one looks like a bowl of ramen,” he continued, indicating one cloud off to the right.
“Oh come on, that one isn’t even big enough!”
“Fine. A bowl of ramen after you’ve devastated it.” Shikamaru’s eyes were still half-closed, but now his mouth was curving up at the corners. The spiral of smoke blurred and wavered as his cigarette changed position.
“Nah,” Naruto said; he stretched out and dug his heels into the ground. “More like your bowl of ramen. That I’m going to eat anyway.”
“Don’t even try.”
Naruto snickered and let his head fall back on the palms of his hands, left elbow sticking out and poking Shikamaru’s shoulder. He remembered, as an Academy student skipping class, the times he and Kiba and Chouji had rough-housed around, leaving Shikamaru to lie in the grass and gaze upwards, wrapped up in the bubble of his own mind. Naruto had always tried to be loud to get attention from others, for only then could he hope that people knew he was there-he had found Shikamaru, lazy and yielding and unwilling to step forth, a “nice kid,” but alien nonetheless to his own perception of the world as one which demanded the loudest of audible expression in return for any sign of acknowledgment.
In the stillness where he felt the leaves of grass pressing against his skin-it was, perhaps, a strange place to ground yourself as an entity in the world. But Naruto didn’t need noise anymore, and so he lay there, side by side with Shikamaru, and said nothing.
For shaitanah: Suigetsu | omnomnom all the ways it matters
He shoved the spoon into his mouth upside-down, upending yogurt on his tongue and letting it melt. “You’re a bloody stick,” he said around the utensil, and slowly drew it out; the sharp points of his teeth left behind shallow markings in the plastic. “The girls are making eyes, even the waiter stopped by to ogle, and you don’t even bother smiling at them.”
Sasuke didn’t smile. “It’s a waste of time.”
“So you think,” Suigetsu muttered, pushing his chair back and balancing on the back legs. “I suppose it’s more satisfying to bludgeon what you need out of people than to flirt with them?” Also, Orochimaru stole your libido, but I guess you don’t like to spread that news around.
“Or electrocute them,” Sasuke allowed. His face shifted with amusement.
“Or string them up, with their guts-right on a line, and topped with a lime-“ Suigetsu stopped. “You can’t possibly find that objectionable,” he said accusingly at Sasuke’s raised eyebrows. “You’ve seen enough dead bodies in your life. It’s just a little ditty.”
“Lime juice on guts?”
“Oh yes,” Suigetsu commented. “It’s a very special sort of flavor, you should try it.”
“It’s unfortunate they don’t have gut-and-lime flavored yogurt then,” Sasuke said levelly.
Suigetsu grinned and brought the front legs of his chair down with a slam. “The real thing’s the best,” he said. “I’ll introduce you to it properly some time.”
Apparently I cannot write actual drabbles, because they just start growing; you can tell where I forced myself to stop, because I have the feeling that most of the endings are rather awkward. Oh well. >_< All the non-Naruto prompts will be up in part 2 once I get around to writing them. XD;;