Sakura/Mizu boys? Maybe Sakura is a changeling that has to deal with the Mizu Fae?
Sakura ties back her hair,shoulders relaxing for the first time in days. She knows itâscounterproductiveâarenât the weekends for relaxing and the weekdays forworkâbut she does not feel safe in her home. Sheâs put up as many safeguards asshe can, but it is nothing like the workshop where she is an apprentice.Despite a decade of gathering all sorts of metal odds and ends, there just isnâtas much iron at home as there is here.
How can her home possibly compare to an actual smithy?
Tenten, the master of the smithy, is away on vacation and shetrusts Sakura well enough to handle the welding without her. Sakura is a goodemployee, able to create whimsical works from titanium steel, which is quite astubborn metal. So Tenten lets Sakuraâs quirks slide; hell, sheherself thinks of the smithy as her home too. She has no room for pointingfingers.
Sakura moves toward the forge, picking up the heavy pail of cokeleft over from Fridayâs fire and hauling it to the cold forge. Picking up the dayâsnewspaper, Sakura pulls out the crossword puzzle and crumples the rest andbegins the tedious process of lighting the forge. She has a knack for it,though she would never admit it [too many memories of gaunt, bony fingersdigging into coal, raking through it as the need to live boils over and burnsout anything and everything else]. The flames grow as she blows gently upon thecoals, coke, and paper, burning away the horrible memories that sear at her.
Fire entrances her, leaves her content and incapable of thinkingof the darker things that lurk in her past. [Fire features as her most pleasantmemories of that time; triumph, relief, victory, satisfaction, warmth. It all came from the fire andeven now it gives her those same feelings. The worst times were cold and wetand constantly, always aching. This is different. Better.]
She watches for a full minute, making sure that the fire is stokedwell enough to go on its own before stepping away, leaving it to heat enough towork metal. Sakura shrugs off her jacket, knowing full well that it is about toget quite toasty. She weaves through the forge, deftly avoiding the sheets ofuntouched metal, the incomplete projects, and the finished ones ready forconsignment. Some of the work is commissioned by individuals, others by thesmall businesses in and around the sleepy town. There is more clutter thanusual in the smithy because Sakura doesnât really deal with customersface-to-face and their deliverer, Kiba, is away to visit his sister inveterinary school.
Sakura heads to the little break room off to the side and stepsin, pulling open the mini-fridge. She grabs the quart of milk, placing it onthe laminate counter as she rustles through the cabinets for a clean cup. Allshe comes up with are a porcelain beer stein depicting the Hyuga coat of arms(Neji went through a phase of âHyuga superiorityâ and Tenten thought it wasfucking hilarious and refused to let him forget it ever) and a metal goblet.
Sakura examines the metal goblet, checking the bottom for a makerâs mark.There is a chicken scrawl of âNUâ and Sakura sighs, replacing the goblet into the cabinet. She isnâtgoing to risk one of Narutoâs poorly constructed forays into metal-working.Naruto is a master of calligraphy, but a genius in blacksmithing he is not.
The Hyuga beer stein it is then.
She opens the milk and pours it into the mug, just going throughthe motions. When it hits the glass with a sickening plop, Sakura snaps back toattention, staring down into the stein.
The milk is soured, rancid even.
Sakura swallows against her suddenly dry throat, strugglingagainst her spiraling thoughts. âYou are fine,â she tellsherself through gritted teeth. âYou are working yourself up over nothing atall. Itâs spoiled milk. Everyoneâs been out of town except you; itâs just outof date. Check the label and confirm it for yourself.â
The speaking her anxieties aloud thing wasnât her idea;she learned it in psychotherapy. Over time, it feels natural and, even as shespeaks, Sakura feels her looming fears be put to rest. Still, her hands shakeas Sakura lifts the milk to look it over. It takes a few moments to figure findthe label and read it, her hands shaking too much.
What she sees leaves her dizzy, breathless.
The date isnât for another seven days.
The milk falls from her hands, chunks hitting the floor andreleasing a foul smell through the kitchenette and break room. Sakura stumblesaway, heedless, groping at the chain around her neck as she draws out the ironbell she keeps on her person at all times. She isnât given achance to contemplate and mire herself in her thoughts as the bells above thedoor ring before cutting off abruptly.
Sakura whirls, hand clutching at the metal closest to her. Herfingers wrap around something and she tightens her grip on it, hoping itâll weigh herdown and keep her grounded.
A lithe man stands in the doorway, hair so dark it looks blue inthe firelight. She has misjudged a bit. He is not Fae, but he is not humaneither, no more than she is. There is something in the tilt of his eyes, theethereal beauty shining in his face, that warns Sakura of his inhumanness.There is also the fact that Sakura knows him from Before.
[Cold dampness seeping into bones. She doesnât rememberwhat it is to be warm, to feel, to be human. There is movement near her and shereaches out, wet slippery fingers reaching for the pale, outstretched hand. Heâsbeen here longer, made wild by his surroundings, a fine webbing among hisfingers. She doesnât hesitate, wrapping her fingers in his. And then, painful,overflowing warmth.]
Sakura laughs, ignoring the hysterical notes that underpin it. âEt tu, Haku?They finally got to you?â
He tilts his head as he watches her, a slight frown weighing downhis lips. âIâve been at Court for years now,â Haku says. âI did not run likeyou did.â
âI wasnât afforded the sameprotections you received,â Sakura nearly snarls, remembering broken promises,swords, and sharp teeth and sharper smiles. âI did not catch their attentionsin that manner.â
âYou didnât complete theTrials,â Haku says, as if it is a simple thing.
âAnd whose fault was that?âSakura snaps, not satisfied by the way he flinches. She feels hollowed out andlow. âI made my choice; I broke free!â
âThat isnât how it works,â Hakusays, shaking his head slowly. âYou know it isnât.â
âI am human!â Sakura almostshouts, face flushing red with the force of the lie. âI am not Fae! I make myown rules. I walked out of the Trials and made it out of the Courts, all ofthem, unbroken!â
âA new round of Trials beginssoon,â Haku says. âYou have been called upon by the Faerie King to return.â
âI will not,â Sakura hisses. âIam human.â
âYou are changeling,â Haku sayshotly. âA changeling of the moon as I am of the sun. You must fulfill yourduty.â
Sakura flings the metal in her hand his way, aiming for Hakuâs head. Heducks out of the way but overcorrects, hitting a large wire frame rooster. Itis apparently made of iron as the skin of Hakuâs cheek burns upon contact. Heglares balefully at Sakura before disappearing to the tinkling of bells. Sakurabites the inside of her cheek until it bleeds, the iron in her mouth remindingher that she is not like him. Even if she is a changeling of the moon, shestarted as human.
He was born Fae, forced to fit the confines of humanness until itchafed too much and he absconded to the Court and to the Trials.
She makes her way toward the metal she threw, curious as to whatit is. She finds it fallen beneath an obviously dented letter K.
When Sakura sees it, she lets out a strangled mix of a sob and alaugh.
She would need an arsenal of horseshoes to ward off the evils ofCourt now.
From the looksof things, a bounty of luck would be necessary to survive the coming days.
