Naruto Fan Fiction ❯ To My Downfall ❯ To My Downfall ( Chapter 1 )

Disclaimer: Naruto belongs to Kishimoto Masashi.

Warning: Major fluff.

Author's Note: The idea sprouted when I was studying for my exam, typed down in an hour or so. Comments and critiques will be gladly accepted, a good-luck message and a review will be a grander help though *g*

 

. . .

 

TO MY DOWNFALL

 

By Silbi

 

She's twenty now, so what's so wrong with this?

 

That you're still fourteen years older than she is. Based solely on that fact, you shouldn't be pining for her.

 

He sighs as he strokes the soft pink tuft resting on his chest, small, yet curvaceous body curling on his side, shoulders rising up and down in tune with his breath.

 

The Three Shinobi Sins - woman, sake, and money. Never has he imagined he'd be the one to violate - the sinfully gorgeous body on his bed that night, so warm on the lemon-scented sheets.

 

Never have I ever... he thinks.

 

Never has he calculated the possibility that she'd agree on his offer he offhandedly made. Five hours every night and nothing more.

 

She had insisted on agreeing with strings attached - so every night after that night came the lemon-scented softener, the strawberry shampoo, and lastly the pink slippers strewn under his bed. He really doesn't want to know what she'll be bringing next... love fern?

 

Preferably no living things, or else it'll be harder for him to disentangle himself from her stringy web.

 

He remembers the day when he came late on a mission and everyone eyed him funnily because his quick-washed hair gave off something different... strawberries. One that people recognized as a particular kunoichi's trademark, who passed by him with a catlike grin on her way out of the ANBU office - she gave a last victorious sway of her hips as she went through the double-doors - several freshmen suffered from instant nosebleeding and he, though affected and amused because she did it only for the hell of it, muttered curses. Damn her and her shampoo next to his generic one.

 

"You're gonna lead me to my downfall, girl," he whispers.

 

She smiles, not bothering to confirm her sleepy state. Her finger draws soothing circles on his abdomen, and he draws a deep breath.

 

It means she's leaving. The five hours allotted have almost run out.

 

It's like running endlessly, every night they are five hours closer to whatever is waiting at the end of the road - is it chaos, understanding, or perhaps chaos in understanding? He doesn't like to think of it, and neither does she - they allow themselves comfort in each other's company, for eighteen thousand seconds are long enough to keep it at bay.

 

He allowed himself five hours, and those five hours he'll take.

 

Ten minutes later she gets up from the bed and reaches under the bed for her sandals. After tying them around the ankles neatly she jumps out of his window - she pulls such a stunt just because she knew it annoys the hell out of him - and lands almost without a sound on the grass.

 

When the sounds of her footsteps are no longer audible, he throws an exasperated arm to the vacant spot on his side.

 

It is still warm.

 

. . .