A story once told...[open]
Dec 22, 2012 2:19:30 GMT -8
Post by purple on Dec 22, 2012 2:19:30 GMT -8
Suzuka was up too late again.
She knew full well she had to be up early the next morning, had things to do and people to see, but here she was, strolling around aimlessly. It was hard to up and switch tasks these days, once she was doing something. Even something that would save her time and energy just felt like a huge endeavor once she nestled into a comfort zone, and tonight felt nice—not too hot, not too cold, just the temperature to melt into and not totally exist. She couldn’t entirely feel herself, and that was okay.
Life lately had been feeling particularly monotonous—wake up too early, eat, work, eat, sit, sleep. It would be one thing if she were just sort of floating through it without a care, but she was acutely aware of the crushing lack of variety. She’d begun to withdraw more lately, despite trying hard not to—she regretted that, and was starting to grow angry at herself. Stuck between feeling hopeless and feeling shameful, these last couple weeks had not been easy ones. Knowing she had reasons—trauma, stress, depression—did not make her feel any more worthy of the colorlessness blotting her life. But tonight was okay—okay was about where she peaked as of late, so okay tonight was as much as she could have hoped for.
Her eyes took in the scenery around her, coolly surveying the silhouettes of busy shinobi against the starlit sky. Keeping the village going, protecting their fellow ninja, responding to booty calls—truly, each and every one of these people moved with great purpose. Every now and then, one of them would blot out a small group of stars from her vision, making it seem like it was blinking in and out of existence. If there was one thing she was thankful for, one thing left in this village, it was the natural beauty it had. Sure, it’d gotten some serious nicks and scratches in the wake of war running its course, but this sky felt immortal to her—vibrant, shimmering—her own little light show. Well, as much of a light show as she needed, at least.
As she continued walking, however, she noticed a shinobi with skin maybe just a bit less bronzed than her own, her face framed with striking blond hair. In her hands were a box, and though Suzuka couldn’t quite see the decal on it, a familiar feeling welled inside her gut—the day she became a real ninja. Her mother had held her back for several years—the sheer excitement she felt was enough to tattoo that box into her mind, right next to the memory of ripping it open after a few stunned seconds and putting it on her forehead. That didn’t last long though—between the band and her hair, her forehead felt sweaty and generally unpleasant, and when she looked at herself later that night, her hair had scrunched up under it oddly and made her look weird. From then, it was usually a neck protector instead of a forehead protector for her, sometimes tied a bit more tightly in the style of a choker, sometime resting a bit more loosely like a large necklace, like it was tonight.
Of course, when she was asked, she explained that she could more easily move her forehead out of harm’s way than her neck, and that it was much easier to conceal something around her neck if she needed to on the fly for some reason. Bullshit, surely—but good bullshit.
Soon, though, Suzuka found herself lightly jolted out of her thoughts when the younger shinobi jumped off of her rooftop spot and landed not far from where Suzuka was. The glazed look in her eyes was replaced by focus on the girl falling from above, and though there was only one quick movement involved, Suzuka could tell the girl was quick on her feet. She began walking in the same direction Suzuka had, and the Chuunin couldn’t help wondering how the girl had managed to have the patience (and why she had the patience) to not put her protector on yet. That wasn’t any of Suzuka’s business, though. Not sure if the girl had heard her walking quietly a couple meters away (she, too, seemed to be in her thoughts), Suzuka spoke up and warmly voiced the only appropriate thing that came to mind: “Congratulations.” She smiled, reserved but genuine.