Welcome Back

The walk home back from the hospital wasn’t an easy one. He stunk of sake even as his armor was soaked in the blood of the ogre, and the looks people gave him – a mixture of fear and contempt – didn’t make the ordeal any easier. He filed a report with the questioning authorities; a couple chunin, who brought on their best tough act they could muster in the presence of what they perceived as another monstrous leader. Was he about to become another foreboding tale for future Kage to demonstrate to their citizens how good they had it?

The village was calm and quiet. Not even a gust of wind would help drown out the echoes of his steps as he made his way home. His stomach turned in knots; how would he be able to face her?

Making his way home, he stood at the door for a minute, before grabbing the key and turning it inside the lock, opening the door quietly as he could to avoid waking her up. He took soft steps, as soft as his armor allowed, and walked into the house.

Seldom did he feel like the right thing had been done. His hands were meant to destroy, and what little he created came through destruction. When cooking, he would cut and dice, slice and part, apply heat or serve cold. When smithing, he would melt and mold, fray and hammer. Whether coated in fat, refuse or blood, his hands had always been a means of destruction. Except when he held her.

Two years ago, on the fateful night at an abandoned outpost, he carried her frail frame through the great oak doors of the relic by the sea. Then his hands saved, perhaps for the first time. Carrying her to the village and taking her under his wing to help her rehabilitate, to have a place to stay, he had developed a fatherly relation with her. Then, why did it feel so wrong?

He had promised her he would be home earlier today, perhaps having felt that’s what she wanted to hear. But the day – no, his own mind – plotted against him, poisoning his thoughts with doubt and conspiracy, while he poisoned his body with sake to calm the nerves. By the time he was supposed to leave, he could only bear to walk to the Drunken Kage, to make justice to its name. What deranged thoughts might’ve gone through his sober head, that this lass, or rather, this woman, would be interested in him.

It was not for lack of trying. Though unable to realize it at first, he had seen what he felt were signs. Nevertheless, he was never sure of what they could be, and he would resume being morose and taciturn. Even the way she acted, turning his house into a home, had always been seen as a means of thanking the man, not as a means of showing affection. What use could he be to her? He was a wanted man, whether he liked it or not. He could not afford to put her under any unnecessary risks. For whatever reason, this devolved into the creation of the twins; surely, that’s what he was missing in his life, that made him feel this much anguish. But that served only to exacerbate his unhealthy mental condition, when the clones reflected every doubt and fear he had.

And now, here he was. Drenched in his sweat, smeared with foreign blood, a broken man looking at the beacon of hope he refused to face so far. The house was, of course, immaculate, save for his intrusion now. The smell of a delicacy floated in the air, a meal he missed due to his own stubbornness. And Aura, sightltess, yet a sight for his sore eye. His hand hesitantly moved to his face to remove the eyepatch, as he did so often, to be able to see her with his two eyes. She got up after a gasp – maybe surprise, maybe he woke her up, and moved towards him, with open arms. He did not understand.

She makes her way to him quickly, and with open arms, offers him solace, and a sense of belonging. The redhead wants to recoil, ashamed of himself, of how he felt, yet his feet move forward, and his strong arms slowly wrap around her frame as he lowers his head to her shoulder, looking behind her. When did the house become so blurry?

“I…” Never one for words, or rather, one who detested speech, he now had so much he wanted to tell her. How cruel, then, that words would escape him in his time of need. Instead, he allowed his hands to rest against her, holding her closer to him, feeling her warmth and scent play with his senses, and he lowered his head to hide it against her shoulder. How long had it been since he had felt this?

What could even be this?

Intimacy?

Affection?

He dared not think it.

“I’m sorry” was all he could muster.

In her arms, he felt safe.

It was a feeling he cherished.

Seldom did he feel weak. However, his only security was the swiftness of his strikes, the brutality of his impact, and the sharpness of his tools. Born of a relaxed violence, the mindset was one of murder at any time.

Not with her. With her, his relaxation was pure. He yearned for her presence, he ached for her touch. In this moment, his troubled mind flooded with endorphins, and the shame and regret he felt became a cloud of confusion.

By what right did this woman have this effect on the Storm Lord?

Woman. So much of his time he had thought of her as a child, a girl, frail and weak, he refused to see what had been before his eyes all this time: a tough woman, resilient, doing whatever it took to grow. And he had refused to accept this.

Apology accepted, milord, and Noboru’s eyes were pressed shut. How could she forgive him still? Why wasn’t she mad at him? Why did she accept him with his faults and flaws? She pushed his face away from her shoulder, while removing her crown to reveal her beautiful broken eyes. He could not explain how much he liked to gaze upon her naked face, yet she was as beautiful as a full moon against the starry sky. His breath picked up, and surely, she would pick up on that. A cold hand brushed his slick hair away from his face, caressing his cheek. He leans into it, the touch sending a jolt of light through his nerves, and he is glad she can’t distinguish the salt of his sweat from that of the dropped tears. She has a confession to make.

Noboru gazes upon her pools of crystalized ice as she speaks, gazing at him vaguely in the sad but cute way she does, and as she does so she leans in to press her forehead to his. Heat drains from his face, and he feels calm, her voice a lullaby. But how could he mean so much to her?

The confession is profound, and it echoes in his mind, a rippling effect, each new word a drop of rain upon the lake of his mind, she speaks of these being the best years of her life, his lips curl in a weak smile, and brings back particular memories with each new mention, played in slow motion and from the edge of his perception. From everything he had ever done, all the guilt he suppressed and accepted as a part of his vocation, his destructive hands had saved a life.

Their noses touch. Electricity courses through his body as a rampaging bolt of lightning through an Autumn storm, accentuated by her hug and back rubs. Noboru doesn’t know how to let himself feel this, but he can’t break away, couldn’t even if he tried. Instead… he accepts it. His own hands stay on her back, and as she hugs him, he pulls her in close, and he can almost feel the motion of her lips as she speaks, so close they are. When she announces she wants to become a shinobi herself, he can’t act surprised. So far, the emotions have been drained out of him, and he can only feel calm. With a role model such as Noboru, it’s no wonder she too wants to protect others. And she wants to protect him. An inspired sentiment. His beacon of hope called upon him, beseeching him to accept her not as the girl he took in, but as the woman she had become.

For the first time in years, his mind became sharp as a razor, clear as the starry mooned sky she was to him. There is a moment of silence. His hand traveled up her back, holding her to him, while the other stayed on the low of her back. Their lips brush softly as he leans in and whispers “I do”, he presses his lips to hers, cold and yet soft and inviting, in a passionate kiss. He breaks away momentarily, gazing upon her eyes even if she can’t return the gesture. “I held you… us… back, for long enough. If you’ll take me, I’ll be yours. If you give yourself to me, I’ll make you mine.” He closed his eyes and kissed her again, a gentle peck on her lips. What an intoxicating feeling, how it opened up his lungs and vitalized his body. “We’ll grow together. As ninja, as people.”

“I love you, Aura.”

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WC: 762
TWC: 1606

Even in the dark of the room, he could tell her cheeks had color, he could feel the warmth of it against his skin, such was the disparity. The smile she gave him made his heart swell, he felt as though the pieces that tumbled down his broken psyche finally fell back into space, and tonight, after spiraling so close to total loss of control, he finally found stillness within himself, in the arms of the woman he could now freely admit to love. She leans onto him, giggling contently, and soon enough follows a yawn, as if the emotional rollercoaster the two went through in such a tight space of time had been enough to bring the entirety of the day crashing down on the lovers. When she tugs at him, a wide smile on her face and a hand pointing at the bedroom, he just nods at her suggestion. His hand circles her frame and goes under her knee, picking her off the floor with ease, carrying her like a bride to his – no, their bed.

A bride. What a thought.