Categories > Anime/Manga > Naruto
"Rain"
Tsunade raises her sake glass to the sky, feeling the wind course around her, her hair unbound and in disarray. The rain falls on her, making her hair heavy. She raises her glass in offering, in prayers and...
Jiraiya drinks his alcohol like a fish. He sits on top of the Hokage monument, right on top of his stupid student's head actually, and looks up at the stars. He ignores the light drizzle, pours another glass of sake, takes a small sip this time and...
Orochimaru slams his cup down, the pain from his most recent transformation still rushing through his body. He hates the dampness and curses the storm outside. He doesn't need anyone, most certainly doesn't need to remember that...
Her tears were salty, soaking through the shirt. Was it Jiraiya? Orochimaru? Likely Jiraiya because Orochimaru didn't like outward displays of emotions, but, the lips were cold and hard when she needed warmth and gentleness. An hand awkwardly patted her back and she allowed the arms to hold her tightly. The rain dulled everything to grey, but the blood was still shining bright red through everything and she was afraid to close her eyes because she could see it even with them closed, and she was afraid to open them because all she could see was red. She grasped the shirt tighter and pulled them closer.
She was as soft as she looked and he could have had her, he knew, but he didn't. Couldn't, actually, it came from years of knowing her. Knowing that if he took that extra step, no matter how much he wanted too, he would end up destroying everything he held dear. The important things that he knew he needed. And no matter how reckless he was, he didn't dare take that step.
He pushed them together, into his room, ignoring his protest and her complaints about the musty smell, the former loud and painful, the latter quiet and as equally painful. He had never been a healer, that was mostly her job, but he was cold and wet, the rain and blood reaching into him and bringing something up that he didn't want to look into too deeply.
They woke up together, sore and aching.
They never mentioned it ever again.
So, Orochimaru hates the rain, and probably will for as long as he lives. He likes being alone with a glass and a bottle of sake, and his followers know better than to come into his room when there is a storm blowing.
Jiraiya avoids being outside when it's pouring, and searches for a warm place to rest his feet and quench his thirst. If there were pretty ladies around who were more than willing to pour for him and to warm his body, then all for the better.
Tsunade likes the little alcove in the Hokage office, even if she only goes there when it rains. The place smells of the familiar incense her grandfather used and of the tea that clung to Sarutobi sensei's clothes. Tsunade drinks sake in here now, and she raises her glass to the sky.
Tsunade raises her sake glass to the sky, feeling the wind course around her, her hair unbound and in disarray. The rain falls on her, making her hair heavy. She raises her glass in offering, in prayers and...
Jiraiya drinks his alcohol like a fish. He sits on top of the Hokage monument, right on top of his stupid student's head actually, and looks up at the stars. He ignores the light drizzle, pours another glass of sake, takes a small sip this time and...
Orochimaru slams his cup down, the pain from his most recent transformation still rushing through his body. He hates the dampness and curses the storm outside. He doesn't need anyone, most certainly doesn't need to remember that...
Her tears were salty, soaking through the shirt. Was it Jiraiya? Orochimaru? Likely Jiraiya because Orochimaru didn't like outward displays of emotions, but, the lips were cold and hard when she needed warmth and gentleness. An hand awkwardly patted her back and she allowed the arms to hold her tightly. The rain dulled everything to grey, but the blood was still shining bright red through everything and she was afraid to close her eyes because she could see it even with them closed, and she was afraid to open them because all she could see was red. She grasped the shirt tighter and pulled them closer.
She was as soft as she looked and he could have had her, he knew, but he didn't. Couldn't, actually, it came from years of knowing her. Knowing that if he took that extra step, no matter how much he wanted too, he would end up destroying everything he held dear. The important things that he knew he needed. And no matter how reckless he was, he didn't dare take that step.
He pushed them together, into his room, ignoring his protest and her complaints about the musty smell, the former loud and painful, the latter quiet and as equally painful. He had never been a healer, that was mostly her job, but he was cold and wet, the rain and blood reaching into him and bringing something up that he didn't want to look into too deeply.
They woke up together, sore and aching.
They never mentioned it ever again.
So, Orochimaru hates the rain, and probably will for as long as he lives. He likes being alone with a glass and a bottle of sake, and his followers know better than to come into his room when there is a storm blowing.
Jiraiya avoids being outside when it's pouring, and searches for a warm place to rest his feet and quench his thirst. If there were pretty ladies around who were more than willing to pour for him and to warm his body, then all for the better.
Tsunade likes the little alcove in the Hokage office, even if she only goes there when it rains. The place smells of the familiar incense her grandfather used and of the tea that clung to Sarutobi sensei's clothes. Tsunade drinks sake in here now, and she raises her glass to the sky.
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