#narutofanfics

A Shikadai point of view from Byakuya Gang Arc to Chunnin Exams.

DARK SHADOWS - GAASHIJI FANFIC

A DEUSA PERDIDA RETORNA | Por Kiyohime

EM BREVE NO SOCIAL SPIRIT.

****Warning: This fanfic explores the aftermath of war in a character’s life. It explores things like loss, death, and sorrow. If those are topics you don’t like to read about then this story is not for you.**** "I never thought I'd understand your logic, Old Man...." Narrowed brown eyes peered down at the grave. 'Shikaku Nara.' It read. Shikamaru's bottom lip quivered as he glanced at the name, two trails of tears flowing down his visage as he meditated on the memory of his father. "...Heh..." He sobbed, a smirk crossing his face as he attempted to hold back incoming tears, wiping away the ones that managed to escape. "...I'm sure if you were here...I'd never hear the end of it..." A trembling chuckle attempted to drown out a heavy sob. "Drinking a beer...cracking up because you found out your son is falling in love with a woman scarier than mom..." He stated with a melancholic laugh. "After years and years of my comments about why you married mom...heh...yeah...life thinks it's funny like that..." He said as a quivering smirk made the effort to hide a segment of the sorrow on his face.

Ps: pls, i want sasuke and naruto fanfics or itachi OR SAKURA idk just wveryone that isnt smut, 18+, bc i do not want to ruin my streak of not reading it for 6 months that is all

So, eventually I hope that all these jagged bits of KakaIru story my brain spits out will align themselves into one perfectly plotted whole. Right now, I believe that the premise goes like this:

Iruka has a secret admirer, who corresponds with him by leaving flowers on his desk. The actual message is in the meaning of the flowers and while I'm not sure yet when Iruka works out who leaves the flowers, and how he'll react, they do come in handy when he's captured and imprisoned on a mission.

Make sense? Maybe not.

***

A couple of spindly, greyish-green stalks, two feet tall and with their base buried in a deep green ceramic pot, the thing had no redeeming features, not even decent spikes, though Iruka thought it might be distantly related to a cactus.  It inhabited a corner of his desk one morning as he came to work, the now familiar note of red crepe by its side.  And Iruka sighed, decided to read up on the meaning of cacti in the evening and finally took the sad specimen home with him.

For the next few months the pot took up a quiet corner in Iruka's living room, ignored and neglected – in as much as Iruka could neglect any living thing.  He never found out the name and meaning of the spindly plant and even forgot to associate it with his secret admirer.

Two nights before Iruka left on his mission, the unprepossessing, lanky plant, half-forgotten in its corner on the windowsill taught Iruka a lesson. It flowered.

The white bloom, made up of thousands of smaller petals, lasted for just one night.  But watching it slowly open as the sun sank and night darkened over Konoha was one experience Iruka would not soon forget. Just as he would remember the flower's sweet scent and how it lingered in his home as he left.