Naruto Fan Fiction ❯ Fly ❯ Fly ( Chapter 1 )
[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]
By: Fairia13 
Of moonlit musings and midnight meanderings....
Anime/Manga: Naruto Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance | Type: One Shot | Uploaded On: 01.29.2005 | Pages: 4 | Words: 3.5K | Visits: 835 | Status: Completed
Of moonlit musings and midnight meanderings....
Anime/Manga: Naruto Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance | Type: One Shot | Uploaded On: 01.29.2005 | Pages: 4 | Words: 3.5K | Visits: 835 | Status: Completed
In a moment,Everything can change.Feel the wind on your shoulders…For a minute,All the world can wait.Let go of your yesterday….
The wind was beautiful tonight. The moon rose, full and bright, to hang in the night sky and illuminate all the shadows as the breeze danced across his shoulders, carrying the scent of summer rain and night blossoms with it. Trees, green and bursting with life at the height of summer spread as far as the eye could see, glinting silver in the moonlight.
So different from his native land, where the air was arid and dry and dust clogged your senses until all you could see, taste, smell and feel was dust and hot, merciless sun. Until all you could hear was the wind rage across the landscape.
It was like absolution.
One thing was much like the other, he realized. His past: arid and barren. Himself: hollowed, gutted, as barren and empty as his native land. She had brought the trees to him, had seen the demons hidden within and had still sought to remove him from the relentless sunlight and hang a moon in the sky to cast everything in an ethereal glow. She had been the water that had quenched his thirst, the summer rain for a dusty soul that was old and jaded far before it’s time.
“Come fly with me.” She had said, laughing, on that hot summer night so long ago.
She had been on a mission, a diplomatic one, and her teammates had relieved her of her guard shift. She had found him sitting on a rooftop - “Lurking,” she would later claim - and had sat next to him for a time.
“I’m restless.” She said, leaping to her feet, “Come fly with me.”
“Why?” He had asked.
“Why not?” She responded, smiling a little smile as she twirled precariously close to the ledge.
“You can’t fly.” He responded sourly, a little perturbed at her attitude. Didn’t she know he was a killer, cold-hearted and mentally unstable?
Apparently not.
“Yes I can.” She said, turning to him and extending her hand. Her smile was secretive, as if she knew something that he didn’t, something perfectly obvious that he should see.
He supposed that he had accepted her hand for that reason alone; the fact that she looked as if she knew something wonderful and she wanted him to see it too.
No one had ever looked at him like that.
So he had reached out and tentatively grasped her hand, the first contact he had had with anyone in years. She had laughingly pulled him to his feet and had leapt from building to building, roof to roof, still grasping his hand until they reached the edge of the village. They had stood on that wall, the two of them, directly above the oblivious guards.
“Follow me.” She had whispered, still smiling.
And with that, had altogether too merrily for his tastes, she leapt off the wall and had hit the ground running.
She had lead him on a merry chase that night, simply running and laughing. In and out of canyons and gullies they had run, climbing plateaus vertically just because they could. The whole time she smiled, grinning like a run was the best thing in the world.
“Why are we doing this?” He had called at one point, wondering what her purpose was. Was she leading him into an ambush?
“Why?” She had called back over her shoulder, her hair glinting silver in the moonlight. She lifter her face to the wind she created as she ran, closing her eyes and smiling. “Because the wind in your hair is the best feeling in the world.”
They had eventually returned to the village, again directly over the heads of the oblivious gaurds, and had eventually wound up on that same rooftop. They two had sat, panting, and watched the sunrise. She had left then, to go to her room and sleep for a bit, but as she left she leaned down to whisper in his ear.
Soft words, like a whisper of breeze.
But they were life-altering.
“Thank you.”
They hadn’t gotten to run together before the mission ended and she had to return home, but some months later he had gone to her village, letter in hand to be delivered to the hokage. Afterwards he had wandered, aimlessly, simply taking in all of the greenery and moisture in the air.
It hadn’t lasted long.
Naruto had found him, on his way to meeting Lee on the training grounds.
“Oi! Oi, Garaa, come spar with us!”
And so he had. She had been there, training in taijutsu with Konaha’s “Beautiful Green Beast,” also know of as Rock Lee. He and Naruto had simply watched for a while as the two dueled. What he had most noticed was that the smile never left her face. It didn’t matter if she was beating or being beaten, she smiled.
What inspired such happiness?
He had stayed in the village that night. Naruto had asked him what he planned to do as they all ate dinner at the ramen shop and when he had merely shrugged, the blonde-haired chuunin had insisted that he stay with him.
Garaa had been stunned. Didn’t this boy know that he would murder him in his sleep, if his village was to be believed? That he was the story told to small children to frighten them into obedience?
“Behave, or Garaa of the Sand will come get you!”
Apparently not.
“I’m noticing a pattern…” He had thought to himself as the three of them had smiled at him over their bowls.
So he had accompanied Naruto back to his home, and when Naruto had finally fallen asleep, he had found himself on the roof once more.
“Do you always lurk on rooftops?” She had asked when she came up next to him a little later.
“I’m not lurking.” Had been his response.
“Oh really?” She had sounded far too amused for his liking. “What would you call it then?”
“I am merely observing.” He had stated haughtily. He hadn’t even realized how he sounded until she turned to him with laughter in her eyes.
“Come fly with me.” She had whispered. There was no coy or mysterious smile, but he had grasped her outstretched hand anyway. They had run through the forest, around trees and through them, leaping from branch to branch and stopping in a meadow.
He didn’t know why she had stopped, not at first.
“Look,” She had whispered.
Interested, wanting to know what she saw, he turned around, scanning the meadow.
“What?” He had asked, somewhat sulkily. “It’s just a meadow.”
She had looked at him and smiled, the stars reflecting in her eyes. “The flowers glow.” She had said.
And so they did.
She had spent hours there that night, patiently showing him what she saw that he didn’t. The way the moonlight leant a sheen of silver to the leaves and made the night blossoms glow. The way the wind tasted and smelled.
“You can see it, but its black-and-white to you.” She had said. “You can feel the wind, but you can’t appreciate it.”
And so it had begun. Every time their path crossed, they spent time looking.
In the end, that had been what saved him.
The final battle with Orochimaru had been a bloody one. He had used every trick he possessed, suffocating his enemies with sand, crushing them slowly or quickly, striking fear into them.
After all, he was the boogeyman.
In the end, Orochimaru had been defeated and the missing nin rounded up to be dealt with as the Hokage’s saw fit.
But the looks he had seen… fear. From his comrades as well as enemies. Trepidation over the consequences of sending him into a blood frenzy. Nervousness had rolled off of them in waves.
She had found him after that last battle, sitting next to a pond hidden in the forest.
“Garaa?” She had called, hesitantly. “Garaa, why are you here? The celebration is in the village.”
“It is best that I’m here.” He had responded. “I’m not wanted there.”
“What do you mean? Why wouldn’t you be?” She had asked.
He swung around to face her, suddenly angry. “Did you not see?” He hissed at her, “Were you not there? I killed them. Crushed them, suffocated them, broke their bones one by one and allowed their agonized cries to escape the sand’s confines solely because I knew it would terrify their team-mates!”
She had sat next to him, pensive, and stared at the water.
“I know.” She said quietly. “I heard, and saw.”
“Then why are you here?” He had seethed, furious. Sand whipped out of the gourd slung across his back and surrounded the girl, wrapping around her and lifting her so she looked him in the eye as he leapt up.
“Do you not know?” He raged, “Do you not comprehend? I could crush you in an instant, or I could draw it our for days! I can heap sand on top of you and let you slowly suffocate, and no one would ever know where you’re buried.” Slowly, warningly, the sand had tightened around her.
“I know.” She gasped. “I understand.”
He moved closer, face to face, his breath hot on her cheek. “Then why are you here?” He whispered, low and heavy, into her ear.
“Because… because you are my friend.” She replied softly. “And I love you.”
She fell to the ground in a heap, sand piled in mounds around her as he had looked on, shocked.
“Garaa…” She had whispered, looking up at him with tears shining in her bright green eyes.
He had run. For the second time in his life he had run, tears blinding him as he ran, mortified at himself and his actions, shocked at her words.
No one could love a killer.
It was some months before he saw her again. He had once more been delivering a message to Kohana’s hokage, and had once more been waylaid in his wanderings, this time by Lee, who predictably enough drug him out to training with the other two, then dinner.
That night, when Naruto was asleep in his bed, snoring like a bear with a head cold, Garaa had left.
She had been sitting on her rooftop, knees against her chest, watching the moon hang in the sky. She had managed to act as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred between them all day, but he knew better.
He smile, once so radiant, was dimmer.
“Come with me?” He had asked as he approached her.
And they had smiled as she took his hand.
Looking back, he recalled, that had truly been the beginning. He had left the next day, but they saw one another on missions, and before long he was visiting Kohana simply to train with Naruto and Lee, and to be by her side ad run in the moonlight with her.
He smiled and looked up at the moon, hanging heavy in the night sky.
It had been a night much like this when he finally took her.
The moon was full, high in the sky, surrounded by a smattering of stars. They were once again in their meadow - as he came to call it - sitting by the pond’s edge and watching stars as the night blossoms glowed around them and the silver-edged leaves swayed on their branches. The air had been filled with their perfume, and carried just a hint of a summer rain off on the horizon.
“I’m sorry.” He whispered.
“For what?” She asked idly.
“For what I said. For what I did. I was wrong.” He said, lowly, ashamed at his lapse. “I should have told you then.”
In response, she had moved closer, until her hip was against his, their shoulders touching.
“I know.” She had replied, putting her arm around him and laying her head on his shoulder.
If asked later, he would never know precisely what prompted him to kiss her. The best he could figure was that at that moment he hadn’t been entirely in control of his body, because he certainly would never have entertained the idea of being privileged enough to press his lips to hers in a chaste kiss.
The kiss, though it started as chaste, quickly became something more. Hungry, searching, both of them reaching for something that they couldn’t quite grasp. Both of them seeking reassurance, affirmation that they were indeed painfully, gloriously alive.
And when it was done, they both lay together, panting, wide-eyed and amazed and slightly giddy.
The next morning had been awkward, he recalled.
Though she had fallen asleep in his arms, comfortable and sated and safe, he hadn’t slept. The fact that he never slept was, in his opinion, a moot point, because even if he did sleep, he certainly wouldn’t have that night.
“I love you.” She had whispered to him.
But no matter what she cried that night, in the morning she had woken and turned sleepy jade-hued eyes on him - and then promptly turned six shades of red. She had shot up and, much to his dismay, as he sought to avoid her lunge they had collided, the top of her head striking his chin painfully.
“Owww…” She had whimpered, cringing and rubbing her sore cranium, as he sat back, not so much shocked by the pain but by the fact that the sand had not reacted and shielded him. Looking over he saw her, sitting flustered on the ground, running a hand through her mussed hair and looking flushed and flustered and entirely too kissable and he did the unthinkable.
He laughed.
She looked over as if to ask what was so funny, then she seemed to give up fighting the smile that was turning the corners of her mouth and laughed with him.
Garaa turned, looking out across the trees glinting silver in the moonlight. The village where he now lived was peaceful in the darkest hours of night, but he knew it would be bustling slightly before sunrise.
There had been no hesitation on his part about where he wanted to live. He was more than happy to leave the Sand and settle in the Leaf, them with their characteristic exuberance for all things living and peaceful ways, with their bustle and smiles and laughter.
There had been no hesitation on his decision either. He knew precisely whom he wanted to spend the rest of his days with, to laugh and love and cry with. To live and grow and change with. To raise a family and, in turn watch them grow and live and thrive with. He knew exactly whom he wanted to grow old and die with.
No, the only hesitation had been in the asking. He was, after all, a killer; the Sand’s personal one-man execution squad, as it was. He harbored a demon within that did not allow him to sleep, that kept him away from most normal people and made his entire village terrified of him. His differences had made him an outcast, forced to live apart from most everyone since he had been six. It had made him the target of numerous assignation attempts, and though not a single one of them had worked, he was afraid that she would be used against him.
Was it wrong to ask her? Selfish perhaps?
He had approached Naruto and Lee on the subject and, interestingly enough, Naruto had been the one to give him his answer.
“Do you love her?” Naruto asked, eyeing him speculatively.
“Yes.” Garaa had replied.
“Do you trust her?” Naruto had asked, still eyeing him.
“Yes.” Garaa replied, wondering where this was heading.
“Then trust her to know her own heart, and to understand the possible repercussions. Don’t let
her attitude fool you; she’s not stupid. She knows who you are, who we are, and she accepts us anyway. Trust that.”
He did. The knowledge had bolstered him, but had not made the asking any easier. He had approached her mother first, her mother knew her better than any other and, though it had taken time to get used to her daughter’s stranger acquaintances, she had eventually done so. Slowly, very slowly, he had earned her respect, had broken through the nervous fear and had come to discover a gentle and caring woman.
She was very much like her daughter.
She had listened to him, very patiently, as he searched for the words he needed to explain how her daughter was his everything, and in the end, had supported him when he spoke to her father.
Her father had been less than enthusiastic. With the disappearance of the Uchiha and the
realization the Naruto was a good friend and nothing more, he had hoped for a more…normal union for his only child. However, he too knew Garaa for what he was and, more importantly, who he was and in the end had supported him as well.
A noise behind him disturbed his musings and Garaa turned to see his wife approaching him. She smiled as she approached, and the moonlight turned her pale pink hair gilded silver.
“Garaa.” She said.
“Sakura.” He replied.
“What are you doing?” She asked.
“Looking.” He replied.
She giggled, hand over her mouth as she stepped up next to him. “Lurking you mean.”
“I do not lurk, I observe.” He replied stiffly, but smiled nonetheless as he wrapped her in his arms, rubbing her bare shoulders briskly.
“You’re chilly.” He observed. “You should go back inside.”
“Not yet.” She said, leaning back against him and lacing the fingers of her left hand with his laying on her right shoulder. “It’s a beautiful night.”
“It is.” He murmured, reached around her expanding waistline and resting his hand on her stomach. Beneath his hand, their child moved restlessly. He smiled, the feeling of awe that washed over him every time he felt the movement humbling him.
“Three more months.” He murmured reassuringly as she sighed, his thought turning to their young son, asleep in his bed. Dark red hair, big blue eyes and his mother’s smile. He hoped that this child would be as fortunate as to inherit such a beautiful smile.
“We’ll fly again soon.” He murmured, burying his nose in her hair and kissing the crown of her head.
In response she tipped her head back at him and smiled.
Fly…
Forget about the reasons why you can’t in life,
And start to try.
Because it’s your time.
Time to fly…
Converting /tmp/phpBM77QD to /dev/stdout
The wind was beautiful tonight. The moon rose, full and bright, to hang in the night sky and illuminate all the shadows as the breeze danced across his shoulders, carrying the scent of summer rain and night blossoms with it. Trees, green and bursting with life at the height of summer spread as far as the eye could see, glinting silver in the moonlight.
So different from his native land, where the air was arid and dry and dust clogged your senses until all you could see, taste, smell and feel was dust and hot, merciless sun. Until all you could hear was the wind rage across the landscape.
It was like absolution.
One thing was much like the other, he realized. His past: arid and barren. Himself: hollowed, gutted, as barren and empty as his native land. She had brought the trees to him, had seen the demons hidden within and had still sought to remove him from the relentless sunlight and hang a moon in the sky to cast everything in an ethereal glow. She had been the water that had quenched his thirst, the summer rain for a dusty soul that was old and jaded far before it’s time.
“Come fly with me.” She had said, laughing, on that hot summer night so long ago.
She had been on a mission, a diplomatic one, and her teammates had relieved her of her guard shift. She had found him sitting on a rooftop - “Lurking,” she would later claim - and had sat next to him for a time.
“I’m restless.” She said, leaping to her feet, “Come fly with me.”
“Why?” He had asked.
“Why not?” She responded, smiling a little smile as she twirled precariously close to the ledge.
“You can’t fly.” He responded sourly, a little perturbed at her attitude. Didn’t she know he was a killer, cold-hearted and mentally unstable?
Apparently not.
“Yes I can.” She said, turning to him and extending her hand. Her smile was secretive, as if she knew something that he didn’t, something perfectly obvious that he should see.
He supposed that he had accepted her hand for that reason alone; the fact that she looked as if she knew something wonderful and she wanted him to see it too.
No one had ever looked at him like that.
So he had reached out and tentatively grasped her hand, the first contact he had had with anyone in years. She had laughingly pulled him to his feet and had leapt from building to building, roof to roof, still grasping his hand until they reached the edge of the village. They had stood on that wall, the two of them, directly above the oblivious guards.
“Follow me.” She had whispered, still smiling.
And with that, had altogether too merrily for his tastes, she leapt off the wall and had hit the ground running.
She had lead him on a merry chase that night, simply running and laughing. In and out of canyons and gullies they had run, climbing plateaus vertically just because they could. The whole time she smiled, grinning like a run was the best thing in the world.
“Why are we doing this?” He had called at one point, wondering what her purpose was. Was she leading him into an ambush?
“Why?” She had called back over her shoulder, her hair glinting silver in the moonlight. She lifter her face to the wind she created as she ran, closing her eyes and smiling. “Because the wind in your hair is the best feeling in the world.”
They had eventually returned to the village, again directly over the heads of the oblivious gaurds, and had eventually wound up on that same rooftop. They two had sat, panting, and watched the sunrise. She had left then, to go to her room and sleep for a bit, but as she left she leaned down to whisper in his ear.
Soft words, like a whisper of breeze.
But they were life-altering.
“Thank you.”
They hadn’t gotten to run together before the mission ended and she had to return home, but some months later he had gone to her village, letter in hand to be delivered to the hokage. Afterwards he had wandered, aimlessly, simply taking in all of the greenery and moisture in the air.
It hadn’t lasted long.
Naruto had found him, on his way to meeting Lee on the training grounds.
“Oi! Oi, Garaa, come spar with us!”
And so he had. She had been there, training in taijutsu with Konaha’s “Beautiful Green Beast,” also know of as Rock Lee. He and Naruto had simply watched for a while as the two dueled. What he had most noticed was that the smile never left her face. It didn’t matter if she was beating or being beaten, she smiled.
What inspired such happiness?
He had stayed in the village that night. Naruto had asked him what he planned to do as they all ate dinner at the ramen shop and when he had merely shrugged, the blonde-haired chuunin had insisted that he stay with him.
Garaa had been stunned. Didn’t this boy know that he would murder him in his sleep, if his village was to be believed? That he was the story told to small children to frighten them into obedience?
“Behave, or Garaa of the Sand will come get you!”
Apparently not.
“I’m noticing a pattern…” He had thought to himself as the three of them had smiled at him over their bowls.
So he had accompanied Naruto back to his home, and when Naruto had finally fallen asleep, he had found himself on the roof once more.
“Do you always lurk on rooftops?” She had asked when she came up next to him a little later.
“I’m not lurking.” Had been his response.
“Oh really?” She had sounded far too amused for his liking. “What would you call it then?”
“I am merely observing.” He had stated haughtily. He hadn’t even realized how he sounded until she turned to him with laughter in her eyes.
“Come fly with me.” She had whispered. There was no coy or mysterious smile, but he had grasped her outstretched hand anyway. They had run through the forest, around trees and through them, leaping from branch to branch and stopping in a meadow.
He didn’t know why she had stopped, not at first.
“Look,” She had whispered.
Interested, wanting to know what she saw, he turned around, scanning the meadow.
“What?” He had asked, somewhat sulkily. “It’s just a meadow.”
She had looked at him and smiled, the stars reflecting in her eyes. “The flowers glow.” She had said.
And so they did.
She had spent hours there that night, patiently showing him what she saw that he didn’t. The way the moonlight leant a sheen of silver to the leaves and made the night blossoms glow. The way the wind tasted and smelled.
“You can see it, but its black-and-white to you.” She had said. “You can feel the wind, but you can’t appreciate it.”
And so it had begun. Every time their path crossed, they spent time looking.
In the end, that had been what saved him.
The final battle with Orochimaru had been a bloody one. He had used every trick he possessed, suffocating his enemies with sand, crushing them slowly or quickly, striking fear into them.
After all, he was the boogeyman.
In the end, Orochimaru had been defeated and the missing nin rounded up to be dealt with as the Hokage’s saw fit.
But the looks he had seen… fear. From his comrades as well as enemies. Trepidation over the consequences of sending him into a blood frenzy. Nervousness had rolled off of them in waves.
She had found him after that last battle, sitting next to a pond hidden in the forest.
“Garaa?” She had called, hesitantly. “Garaa, why are you here? The celebration is in the village.”
“It is best that I’m here.” He had responded. “I’m not wanted there.”
“What do you mean? Why wouldn’t you be?” She had asked.
He swung around to face her, suddenly angry. “Did you not see?” He hissed at her, “Were you not there? I killed them. Crushed them, suffocated them, broke their bones one by one and allowed their agonized cries to escape the sand’s confines solely because I knew it would terrify their team-mates!”
She had sat next to him, pensive, and stared at the water.
“I know.” She said quietly. “I heard, and saw.”
“Then why are you here?” He had seethed, furious. Sand whipped out of the gourd slung across his back and surrounded the girl, wrapping around her and lifting her so she looked him in the eye as he leapt up.
“Do you not know?” He raged, “Do you not comprehend? I could crush you in an instant, or I could draw it our for days! I can heap sand on top of you and let you slowly suffocate, and no one would ever know where you’re buried.” Slowly, warningly, the sand had tightened around her.
“I know.” She gasped. “I understand.”
He moved closer, face to face, his breath hot on her cheek. “Then why are you here?” He whispered, low and heavy, into her ear.
“Because… because you are my friend.” She replied softly. “And I love you.”
She fell to the ground in a heap, sand piled in mounds around her as he had looked on, shocked.
“Garaa…” She had whispered, looking up at him with tears shining in her bright green eyes.
He had run. For the second time in his life he had run, tears blinding him as he ran, mortified at himself and his actions, shocked at her words.
No one could love a killer.
It was some months before he saw her again. He had once more been delivering a message to Kohana’s hokage, and had once more been waylaid in his wanderings, this time by Lee, who predictably enough drug him out to training with the other two, then dinner.
That night, when Naruto was asleep in his bed, snoring like a bear with a head cold, Garaa had left.
She had been sitting on her rooftop, knees against her chest, watching the moon hang in the sky. She had managed to act as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred between them all day, but he knew better.
He smile, once so radiant, was dimmer.
“Come with me?” He had asked as he approached her.
And they had smiled as she took his hand.
Looking back, he recalled, that had truly been the beginning. He had left the next day, but they saw one another on missions, and before long he was visiting Kohana simply to train with Naruto and Lee, and to be by her side ad run in the moonlight with her.
He smiled and looked up at the moon, hanging heavy in the night sky.
It had been a night much like this when he finally took her.
The moon was full, high in the sky, surrounded by a smattering of stars. They were once again in their meadow - as he came to call it - sitting by the pond’s edge and watching stars as the night blossoms glowed around them and the silver-edged leaves swayed on their branches. The air had been filled with their perfume, and carried just a hint of a summer rain off on the horizon.
“I’m sorry.” He whispered.
“For what?” She asked idly.
“For what I said. For what I did. I was wrong.” He said, lowly, ashamed at his lapse. “I should have told you then.”
In response, she had moved closer, until her hip was against his, their shoulders touching.
“I know.” She had replied, putting her arm around him and laying her head on his shoulder.
If asked later, he would never know precisely what prompted him to kiss her. The best he could figure was that at that moment he hadn’t been entirely in control of his body, because he certainly would never have entertained the idea of being privileged enough to press his lips to hers in a chaste kiss.
The kiss, though it started as chaste, quickly became something more. Hungry, searching, both of them reaching for something that they couldn’t quite grasp. Both of them seeking reassurance, affirmation that they were indeed painfully, gloriously alive.
And when it was done, they both lay together, panting, wide-eyed and amazed and slightly giddy.
The next morning had been awkward, he recalled.
Though she had fallen asleep in his arms, comfortable and sated and safe, he hadn’t slept. The fact that he never slept was, in his opinion, a moot point, because even if he did sleep, he certainly wouldn’t have that night.
“I love you.” She had whispered to him.
But no matter what she cried that night, in the morning she had woken and turned sleepy jade-hued eyes on him - and then promptly turned six shades of red. She had shot up and, much to his dismay, as he sought to avoid her lunge they had collided, the top of her head striking his chin painfully.
“Owww…” She had whimpered, cringing and rubbing her sore cranium, as he sat back, not so much shocked by the pain but by the fact that the sand had not reacted and shielded him. Looking over he saw her, sitting flustered on the ground, running a hand through her mussed hair and looking flushed and flustered and entirely too kissable and he did the unthinkable.
He laughed.
She looked over as if to ask what was so funny, then she seemed to give up fighting the smile that was turning the corners of her mouth and laughed with him.
Garaa turned, looking out across the trees glinting silver in the moonlight. The village where he now lived was peaceful in the darkest hours of night, but he knew it would be bustling slightly before sunrise.
There had been no hesitation on his part about where he wanted to live. He was more than happy to leave the Sand and settle in the Leaf, them with their characteristic exuberance for all things living and peaceful ways, with their bustle and smiles and laughter.
There had been no hesitation on his decision either. He knew precisely whom he wanted to spend the rest of his days with, to laugh and love and cry with. To live and grow and change with. To raise a family and, in turn watch them grow and live and thrive with. He knew exactly whom he wanted to grow old and die with.
No, the only hesitation had been in the asking. He was, after all, a killer; the Sand’s personal one-man execution squad, as it was. He harbored a demon within that did not allow him to sleep, that kept him away from most normal people and made his entire village terrified of him. His differences had made him an outcast, forced to live apart from most everyone since he had been six. It had made him the target of numerous assignation attempts, and though not a single one of them had worked, he was afraid that she would be used against him.
Was it wrong to ask her? Selfish perhaps?
He had approached Naruto and Lee on the subject and, interestingly enough, Naruto had been the one to give him his answer.
“Do you love her?” Naruto asked, eyeing him speculatively.
“Yes.” Garaa had replied.
“Do you trust her?” Naruto had asked, still eyeing him.
“Yes.” Garaa replied, wondering where this was heading.
“Then trust her to know her own heart, and to understand the possible repercussions. Don’t let
her attitude fool you; she’s not stupid. She knows who you are, who we are, and she accepts us anyway. Trust that.”
He did. The knowledge had bolstered him, but had not made the asking any easier. He had approached her mother first, her mother knew her better than any other and, though it had taken time to get used to her daughter’s stranger acquaintances, she had eventually done so. Slowly, very slowly, he had earned her respect, had broken through the nervous fear and had come to discover a gentle and caring woman.
She was very much like her daughter.
She had listened to him, very patiently, as he searched for the words he needed to explain how her daughter was his everything, and in the end, had supported him when he spoke to her father.
Her father had been less than enthusiastic. With the disappearance of the Uchiha and the
realization the Naruto was a good friend and nothing more, he had hoped for a more…normal union for his only child. However, he too knew Garaa for what he was and, more importantly, who he was and in the end had supported him as well.
A noise behind him disturbed his musings and Garaa turned to see his wife approaching him. She smiled as she approached, and the moonlight turned her pale pink hair gilded silver.
“Garaa.” She said.
“Sakura.” He replied.
“What are you doing?” She asked.
“Looking.” He replied.
She giggled, hand over her mouth as she stepped up next to him. “Lurking you mean.”
“I do not lurk, I observe.” He replied stiffly, but smiled nonetheless as he wrapped her in his arms, rubbing her bare shoulders briskly.
“You’re chilly.” He observed. “You should go back inside.”
“Not yet.” She said, leaning back against him and lacing the fingers of her left hand with his laying on her right shoulder. “It’s a beautiful night.”
“It is.” He murmured, reached around her expanding waistline and resting his hand on her stomach. Beneath his hand, their child moved restlessly. He smiled, the feeling of awe that washed over him every time he felt the movement humbling him.
“Three more months.” He murmured reassuringly as she sighed, his thought turning to their young son, asleep in his bed. Dark red hair, big blue eyes and his mother’s smile. He hoped that this child would be as fortunate as to inherit such a beautiful smile.
“We’ll fly again soon.” He murmured, burying his nose in her hair and kissing the crown of her head.
In response she tipped her head back at him and smiled.
Fly…
Forget about the reasons why you can’t in life,
And start to try.
Because it’s your time.
Time to fly…
Converting /tmp/phpBM77QD to /dev/stdout