Kuzuryu Ashiko (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sekihan) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
sunshineverse2014-04-14 07:46 pm
sekihan) wrote in sunshineverse2014-04-14 07:46 pm
Entry tags:
closed
Who: Ashiko and Itachi
Where: An inconspicuous little village in the Land of Rice
When: April 15
Notes: A friendly encounter. Sort of. Mostly, he's just happy she's alive.
'Perhaps you should take it easy, Ashiko-sama,' a few of the lower-ranked servants had suggested, meek and worried. 'It was such a stressful situation. You deserve a rest.'
Honestly. It was as though they didn't know her at all.
Ashiko could never be happy cooling her heels, even if the alternative was being away from her master's side. Since the caravan debacle he had elected to keep a low profile, which meant that Ashiko's little errands resumed, with more frequency than ever before. Otogakure had no shortage of skilled medical ninja, not the least of which was her esteemed Danna-sama, so it wasn't as though she was even on the mend; she had been patched up as good as new by the day after their return, and had only her own bruised pride to pain her.
She didn't care that Orochimaru had stabbed a person through her, really; she was upset that she had hindered her master to the point that he had even had to do such a thing in the first place. It was a similar sentiment that had kept her from using her scroll to make contact with any Konoha shinobi. How exactly did one broach such a strained social situation? 'My master and I are in good health, I hope that none of you were fatally poisoned after we defended ourselves from your highly unwarranted attack,' seemed ill-put.
But even Ashiko could nurse a grudge, if one on behalf of her master.
The woman sighed softly and ducked into the inn and tavern that would be her lodgings for the night, sliding into the last available booth and leaning back against the old, lacquered wood tiredly. She was in the pink of health, but the weather and the long hours she had chosen to undertake had worn her out for the day.
Where: An inconspicuous little village in the Land of Rice
When: April 15
Notes: A friendly encounter. Sort of. Mostly, he's just happy she's alive.
'Perhaps you should take it easy, Ashiko-sama,' a few of the lower-ranked servants had suggested, meek and worried. 'It was such a stressful situation. You deserve a rest.'
Honestly. It was as though they didn't know her at all.
Ashiko could never be happy cooling her heels, even if the alternative was being away from her master's side. Since the caravan debacle he had elected to keep a low profile, which meant that Ashiko's little errands resumed, with more frequency than ever before. Otogakure had no shortage of skilled medical ninja, not the least of which was her esteemed Danna-sama, so it wasn't as though she was even on the mend; she had been patched up as good as new by the day after their return, and had only her own bruised pride to pain her.
She didn't care that Orochimaru had stabbed a person through her, really; she was upset that she had hindered her master to the point that he had even had to do such a thing in the first place. It was a similar sentiment that had kept her from using her scroll to make contact with any Konoha shinobi. How exactly did one broach such a strained social situation? 'My master and I are in good health, I hope that none of you were fatally poisoned after we defended ourselves from your highly unwarranted attack,' seemed ill-put.
But even Ashiko could nurse a grudge, if one on behalf of her master.
The woman sighed softly and ducked into the inn and tavern that would be her lodgings for the night, sliding into the last available booth and leaning back against the old, lacquered wood tiredly. She was in the pink of health, but the weather and the long hours she had chosen to undertake had worn her out for the day.
no subject
She took over loosening the tie, extricating it in the quick and painless way that only a life time of fussing with fluffy, curly, rebellious hair could properly teach. She wound it around two fingers so as not to lose it in the gloom of the evening, and carefully drew her fingers through his hair once, twice, three times before using the comb. It was, perhaps surprisingly, just as functional as it was decorative, and helped her take care of the smaller knots her fingers missed.
A little more forward than she would be under normal circumstances, yes. But this wasn't normal, by any stretch of the word, and was probably the last chance she would ever have.
no subject
Itachi had to resist the urge to grab her hands. As a rule, people didn't touch his hair. When he felt hands on his hair, normally someone was trying to get a strong enough hold to yank. Itachi made himself still, slightly disturbed that his reaction, which should have been instantaneous when she touched him, had been slow enough to stop. Itachi tried to push the tension out of his body.
The sensation of Ashiko's fingers through his hair sent chills down his spine. It wasn't comforting, as when Shisui was persuaded into helping Itachi with his hair, but it wasn't really alarming either. It was a curiously sharp awareness of Ashiko's hands and even her body behind him. All the things she could to, standing behind him to close to his neck with his hair in her hands, melted away before he could really contemplate them.
It had to be a conditioned reaction to someone brushing his hair, because he could feel himself relaxing.
no subject
Instead she was thinking, vaguely, of how silky his hair was, and how jealous she was of that, and of a little boy with similarly silky hair from years and years ago. She severed that last line of thought immediately, before the old grief could creep back in, and leaned up on her tiptoes with her forearms braced against his shoulders for balance as she divided his hair.
The braiding was firm and almost mechanical, but not tight enough to hurt his scalp over time. She pinched the end and wound the tie around it, before breathing out a decidedly rude word he was likely surprised that she even knew when it snapped.
"Sorry," she murmured, adjusting her fingers so that her work wouldn't go to waste as she delved into a sleeve with her free hand. The replacement tie was a dark purple and soaked in the faint, sweet scent of daffodils and jasmine—the current bottle of perfume she was working her way through.
no subject
She could kill him right now.
Itachi flinched as the hair tie snapped. And supressed a laugh that Ashiko would swear like that. She was probably more accomplished than he was.
Itachi smelled the perfume on the tie she'd given him as he pulled the braid over his shoulder. It was neat and even, all the way down. A good braid, but Ashiko had immensely graceful hands, didn't she? It wasn't any wonder her braid had come out even better than Itachi's braids did.
Itachi turned and gave the woman a deep bow. It made him dizzy, and he stayed where he was, uncertain what he wanted to thank her for, and knowing he should thank her for nothing. He should come up with a blade in hand and gut her. Yank her to him and stab her.
"One day...." Itachi stopped not knowing where the nebulous thought was even going as he pulled himself up, taller than her and yet somehow oddly powerless in this moment. He was stripped of his personas, and Uchiha Itachi would never have anything to do with Ashiko, unless to kill her.
Itachi realized he had never said a permanent goodbye to anyone he'd really cared for before. How exactly were you supposed to sum up a farewell like that into a few simple words? The regrets, well wishes, wistfulness of everything.
"Practice your swimming," Itachi said instead of many other things he could have said, wanted to say, didn't dare say. He turned and walked away, grabbing up his pack and settling it on his shoulders. He would be in Konoha in a few days. Oddly, it seemed very far away right now.