#chiariuchiha

It wasn’t unusual for one or the other to disappear without warning or explanation. Two lives tethered by an invisible string, yet still often pulled in opposite directions.

He was certain there was a heavy amount of skill attributed to getting all those little juice filled pockets out of the fruit. Stroking it definitely didn’t work.

Of course it was a skill she possessed. He was pretty convinced that Chiari could do anything.

The pomegranate could wait. If she was back, he needed to see her. In the fridge the bowl went, as the flower is tucked behind his ear.

Shikamaru shifted his weight slightly, hands sinking into his pockets as his eyes followed her motion — that subtle turn, the faint flicker of suspicion behind her otherwise calm demeanor. A typical shinobi read. She wasn’t some random traveler, that much was clear.

“Lost?” he echoed, a quiet hum of amusement slipping past his lips. “Not quite. I don’t really do lost.”

He tilted his head just a little, studying her like a puzzle he hadn’t yet decided was worth solving. “Though I could say the same thing about you. Most people don’t walk through this area unless they’re trying not to be seen.”

His tone wasn’t accusatory — more observant, testing. The faintest ghost of a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as his gaze dropped briefly to her posture, her stance, then returned to her eyes.

“That habit doesn’t come from civilian life… Guessing you already know that.”

A beat of silence followed before he exhaled softly through his nose. “If you’re not who I’m supposed to meet, then that’s my drag of a day — but you’re definitely not the average ‘wrong person’.”

I had a wonderful commission opportunity from @chiariuchiha to draw her OC, Uchiha Chiari, who's seriously badass! I really like how the rendering came out. Charlie, thanks so much for commissioning me and I can't wait to learn more about Chiari as we write together. 🥰 Naruto, the series & its characters is © of Kishimoto Masashi.

This pleasant morning of soft breezes and clouded sunshine grew impeccably awkward.

The wind fills the silence between the two of them as they both stare in mild confusion at one another.

Zetsu looks down at his hands, then the upper part of his chest and arms.

“I could… not be white?”

It was as much of a suggestion as it was a true possibility.

“I could be purple. Or blue or pink?”

Even with her poised stance and all the readiness to strike like a pissed viper, the Zetsu clone remains content in his half buried state in the ground.

“Whatever color it is you need me to be in order for you to hurt yourself, I’ll do it.

If you could break one of your limbs… or even just a wrist or an ankle, that’ll be fine. Or if you want to ram your face into my fist a few times, I think that would be okay.

Considering there’s a summoning circle, I thought I’d ask.” She stared rather blankly at her. “Is it with the child? I.. could offer some tips?” Considering she raised three children on her own.

Silence falls despite the prompt for an answer, cerulean eyes looking down at the small ceramic cup of tea between her hands. It was easy to agree to the stranger's words, but there was more to it than just a simple yes. Talk of the sea felt like reminiscing an old friend, a lover even, that ever-present force had always been a constant body in her memories. She couldn't imagine her life without it.

"You would be correct," Kasumi finally breaks from her thoughts as she sips the steaming tea cautiously, eyes shifting to focus back on the woman across the table from her, "It is as you say it is--the beginning and the end, all consuming and regurgitating. The sea is neither friend nor foe, only something akin to a god that must be appeased through trial and error."