Categories > Anime/Manga > Naruto
Softly, Sweetly
In Japan, chocolate-giving on Valentine's Day is reserved exclusively for women to give to the men in their lives. Exactly a month later, on March 14th, White Day is the day when the men reciprocate. This is, as far as I know, a completely unique custom.
This story was originally written for the 2006 Naruto Rabu fanworks exchange at the Livejournal community of the same name. Check it out, it's full of great stories.
Rin has never liked chocolate, really.
Now it's not that she hates it or anything -- it's just that she's always preferred fresh things, like fruit, to sugary confections. Maybe it's the medic in her, but she doesn't understand why people insist on gorging themselves with such rich manmade sweets when they could be having a nice apple, or a pear, or perhaps even some cherries.
Obito gives her chocolate for White Day every year, though, and she eats it anyway.
Chocolate, you see, has a very particular flavor. Warm and sensual -- spreading over the tongue and refusing to be ignored, soft and gentle and so very sweet. It beckons gently, happily sharing its flavor with each and every bite, straightforward and self-assured.
She gives Obito chocolate every year on Valentine's as well, because she knows he likes it; and Sensei too. For Kakashi -- well, she usually leaves a bowl of apples on his doorstep when he's not at home.
Now fruit, you understand, has a particular flavor all its own. Cold and crisp and sharp aganist the tongue; it lingers for only an instant until you take the next bite, and guards itself carefully underneath peels and rinds, stems and leaves. It at once fears the moment you reach the seeds inside, and hopes for it -- hopes that in that moment you will take them, scatter them lovingly on the ground, and coax them to bear new life. No, fruit does not give of itself as easily as chocolate, for it has secrets to hide. But its sweetness is worth the effort.
Five months before Obito dies, he presents Rin with White Day chocolate for the last time. As always, he thrusts the little box at her and blushes and stammers, and she eats one piece, and pronounces it delicious. Then they walk to the training field together.
Five months before Obito dies, Kakashi meets them as they arrive, and wordlessly presses a small bag into Rin's hand when Obito isn't looking. It's full of apple seeds, and the top is tied with a white ribbon bow. Rin saves it to wear in her hair.
In the days that follow after, things come to pass that none of them could have imagined. Blood-red eyes and apple-red blood, the chocolate of Kakashi's dark gaze and the taste of their tears are all fixed forever in Rin's memory; and she realizes that in some way, though they set out on different paths, her two flavors reach for the same end. And she wonders, then, if they ever knew.
When February comes she makes chocolate-covered cherries with her mother, and leaves some in a little bag at the foot of the memorial stone, tied with a white ribbon at the top. The rest are quietly deposited at Kakashi's door.
A month passes. She wakes on White Day morning to the cheerful shine of a cold bright day, the chirp of birds cavorting about the trees outside, and a pair of parcels resting on her windowsill.
One is a small bag full of cherry pits, tied with a red ribbon. The other is a little box of chocolates.
She eats one piece, and pronounces it delicious.
In Japan, chocolate-giving on Valentine's Day is reserved exclusively for women to give to the men in their lives. Exactly a month later, on March 14th, White Day is the day when the men reciprocate. This is, as far as I know, a completely unique custom.
This story was originally written for the 2006 Naruto Rabu fanworks exchange at the Livejournal community of the same name. Check it out, it's full of great stories.
Rin has never liked chocolate, really.
Now it's not that she hates it or anything -- it's just that she's always preferred fresh things, like fruit, to sugary confections. Maybe it's the medic in her, but she doesn't understand why people insist on gorging themselves with such rich manmade sweets when they could be having a nice apple, or a pear, or perhaps even some cherries.
Obito gives her chocolate for White Day every year, though, and she eats it anyway.
Chocolate, you see, has a very particular flavor. Warm and sensual -- spreading over the tongue and refusing to be ignored, soft and gentle and so very sweet. It beckons gently, happily sharing its flavor with each and every bite, straightforward and self-assured.
She gives Obito chocolate every year on Valentine's as well, because she knows he likes it; and Sensei too. For Kakashi -- well, she usually leaves a bowl of apples on his doorstep when he's not at home.
Now fruit, you understand, has a particular flavor all its own. Cold and crisp and sharp aganist the tongue; it lingers for only an instant until you take the next bite, and guards itself carefully underneath peels and rinds, stems and leaves. It at once fears the moment you reach the seeds inside, and hopes for it -- hopes that in that moment you will take them, scatter them lovingly on the ground, and coax them to bear new life. No, fruit does not give of itself as easily as chocolate, for it has secrets to hide. But its sweetness is worth the effort.
Five months before Obito dies, he presents Rin with White Day chocolate for the last time. As always, he thrusts the little box at her and blushes and stammers, and she eats one piece, and pronounces it delicious. Then they walk to the training field together.
Five months before Obito dies, Kakashi meets them as they arrive, and wordlessly presses a small bag into Rin's hand when Obito isn't looking. It's full of apple seeds, and the top is tied with a white ribbon bow. Rin saves it to wear in her hair.
In the days that follow after, things come to pass that none of them could have imagined. Blood-red eyes and apple-red blood, the chocolate of Kakashi's dark gaze and the taste of their tears are all fixed forever in Rin's memory; and she realizes that in some way, though they set out on different paths, her two flavors reach for the same end. And she wonders, then, if they ever knew.
When February comes she makes chocolate-covered cherries with her mother, and leaves some in a little bag at the foot of the memorial stone, tied with a white ribbon at the top. The rest are quietly deposited at Kakashi's door.
A month passes. She wakes on White Day morning to the cheerful shine of a cold bright day, the chirp of birds cavorting about the trees outside, and a pair of parcels resting on her windowsill.
One is a small bag full of cherry pits, tied with a red ribbon. The other is a little box of chocolates.
She eats one piece, and pronounces it delicious.
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