His hand snatched hers away from him and he bent her wrist back in an angle what would’ve been extremely painful for a human. His eyes went wide in his anger and he bent her hand back a little further until he heard the joint pop loudly. “Look at yourself, Hana.” He growled, stepping up so that he was right in her face. “You’re not human. You can’t even feel something that would have a human on their knees, begging for mercy. My only flaw is that I’m incomplete, yes. I am not empty - I have emotions. That’s what makes me imperfect. I admit my flaws, Hana. Which is obviously something you can’t do.”
A sharp twist had the girl spinning around so that her back was facing him and her arm was locked behind her. He held her still with a hand on her shoulder and forced her to look into the mirror on his wall. “Before you go screaming out someone’s flaws, you must first face reality and accept your own.”
// get out omg
With the sun slowly rising in the horizon, Karura fixed her hair and smoothed out the wrinkles in her dress— looking for anything in her person that might suggest that she wasn’t tending to the plants all morning. Nothing? None? No evidence of other things or of her companion who left mere seconds ago in a flurry of hurried kisses and whispered goodbyes?
Finally satisfied with her appearance, she went through her small shoulder bag to make sure that she didn’t forget anything. But, instead of finding something missing, Karura stumbled upon something that she had never seen before— a small old brown book with tattered edges. She flipped it around, waiting for it to seem more and more familiar but her mind drew a blank.
She quickly browsed through the pages, in case it was left for her— in case it was a message wrapped up in a shell that wasn’t incriminating. Her initial scan showed a small flower pressed between the pages. It was a very small Japanese rose— one she had given him only yesterday. Karura couldn’t remember when she started slipping him small flowers or why she continued to do so since they always ended up back with her— it wasn’t as if he could keep the flowers. Especially ones, so rare, that pointed an accusing finger towards this greenhouse.
She opened the page wide enough to read in the low light of the rising sun.
I don’t love you as if you were the salt-rose, topaz,
or arrow of carnations that propagate fire:
Such symbols of love: the rose, the gem and the burning flame were never meant for them. Never to color their world in that shade of red. Never to bask under the light of the sun.
I love you as certain dark things are loved,
secretly, between the shadow and the soul.
In utmost secrecy. Looking only when no one else is looking. Meeting only in dark corners and when the world is asleep. Mouthing out words because whispers scream too loudly in their ears. And of hurried kisses and frantic hands. Of secrets they keep from others and the want to close their eyes as well.
I love you as the plant that doesn’t bloom and carries
hidden within itself the light of those flowers,
They both have to walk away, staring past one another in the streets. Looking through mirrors or the reflection of a shined silverware to catch a glimpse of someone dear.
and thanks to your love, darkly in my body
lives the dense fragrance that rises from the earth.
She’d always have a hard time suppressing a smile that threatened to shine in her face at the flash of familiar red hair. She’d always have to stay silent, lest she hum to happily or smile too much without reason.
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,
I love you simply, without problems or pride:
I love you in this way because I don’t know any other way of loving
but this, in which there is no I or you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand
so close that when you close your eyes, I fall asleep.
Suddenly, Karura could still feel the press of his lips on her skin, the taste of his kisses, and the soft voice that whispered in her ear. Suddenly, there was a feel of a gentle hand curled up against hers, closing the book without her wanting to. Suddenly, she needs to look at the mirror once more to clean away the dark blush on her cheeks and the smile that wouldn’t fade.
Perhaps, afterwards, when the sun has fully risen, she’ll bring a small pot of flowers home and stop by the bakery for a cake. Hopefully, it will give her enough time for the smile to fade away before she returns home to her family and tell them of the many plants she’s tended to today.
//I had a 10 minute deliberation on whether to press the submit button or not. ;A; I hope it turned out alright… and yes, someone is excited for this.
The poem— bold and italicized— is
Sonnet 17 (100 Love Sonnets, 1960) by Pablo Neruda— translated
// Oh my god. Wowowow. Wow. Holy crap this is gorgeous and fantastic and omg I love it so much. I read it like three times before I could even close my gaping mouth. I’m so terribly excited for this!
Ugh shut up already, Shino is the one who will be Hokage.
madara is very excited to see his boyfriend (◡‿◡✿)
oh god can madara and hashirama pls keep their fangirling to themselves ugh