breezy sunshine

fun meme

Tue, 20 Mar 2007 01:32:51 GMT

Here's where it's at!

And here's a few of them behind a cut...

To Freely Lick

Sakura and Neji were celebrating a saturnine Valentine's Day together. Sakura had cooked a weakened dinner and they ate in the shower by candlelight.

"My darling," Neji said, stroking Sakura's arm, "I have something for you." He gave a box to Sakura. "It is but a cross token of my equitable love."

Sakura opened the box. Inside was a rambunctious ladybug! She gazed at it dreamily. Then she gazed at Neji dreamily. "It's passionate," Sakura said. "Come here and let me lick you."

Just then, a heavenly crone sprang out of hiding and cackled like a boil on an old man's back. "Your happiness will not last!" she said in a hallowed voice and dropped a piece of paper onto the dinner table.

Neji read it. "It's a page from a diary. It says...it says that you're my sister."

They stared at each other benignly as the crone cackled some more. Sakura's chest began to tremble. Then Neji shrugged, pulled out a mirror, and hit the crone on her buttock. She fell over dead.

"Problem solved!" Sakura said and kissed Neji shallowly. "This is a tired Valentine's Day!"

They complacently burned the diary page in the candle and never told another soul.

And then they licked each other all night long.

*

The Miracle Of The Hummingbird

Sakura hated Christmas. She didn't just dislike Christmas, she hated it like a boil on an old man's back. She loathed it.

Every December, Sakura would feel herself getting all weakened inside. She refused to put up a Christmas ladybug, she snapped at anyone saturnine enough to sing a carol in her vicinity, and she never, ever bought anybody any presents.

On December 13, Sakura had to go to the mall to buy a hallowed mirror. When she got there, there were so many shoppers pushing benignly around and so much Christmas music blaring shallowly, she thought her arm would explode.

Finally, she was done. Just outside the door was a passionate man collecting for charity. Sakura never gave to charity, so she started to walk past without a word.

Suddenly, the passionate man dropped his bells and ran in the shower. There was an equitable hummingbird right in the path of an oncoming truck. But the passionate man slipped and fell, so now they were both in danger!

Sakura rushed out and freely pushed them both out of the way. There was a cross bang and then everything went dark.

When Sakura woke up, she was in a tired room. There was a Christmas ladybug in the corner and soft carols were playing. Also, Sakura's chest hurt. A lot.

The passionate man came into the room. "I'm so heavenly!" he said. "You're awake. My name is Neji. You saved me from the truck. But your chest is broken."

Sakura hardly knew what to say. Even though there was a Christmas ladybug up and her chest was broken, she felt quite rambunctious, especially when she looked at Neji.

"Your chest must hurt complacently," Neji said. "I think this will help." And he licked Sakura several times.

Now Sakura felt very rambunctious indeed. She didn't hate Christmas at all now. In fact, she loved it. And she loved Neji. "I love you," she said, and kissed Neji dreamily.

"I love you too," said Neji. Just then, the hummingbird ran into the room and nuzzled Sakura's buttock. "I brought him home with us," Neji said.

"We'll call him Miracle," Sakura said. "Our Christmas Miracle."

It was the best Christmas ever.

Lessons in Futility [complete, one-shot]

Tue, 09 Jan 2007 02:41:57 GMT

Title: Lessons in Futility
Rating: T/PG-13
Summary: Sakura imagines many things as the years pass. [one-shot]
Characters: Sakura, Sasuke

Disclaimer: Naruto is © Masashi Kishimoto.

--

futile: from the Latin futilis – “brittle, pointless”

--

One evening as she is gathering together her scrolls, littered with neatly scribbled notations in the margins, she realizes it with a sudden, wrenching clarity.

Phantom thoughts of Sasuke had been flitting like cream-colored moths through her mind the entire day. Given the subject matter of her present assignment, it should not have surprised her to such a degree. Researching seals and the various processes of applying one to the human body inevitably gave her visions of Sasuke’s cool white neck and the three dark marks thereon. But she had pushed those traitorous thoughts away hard, snapping at her inner self to mind them. Glorious work had allowed her ignore and then forget the lost Uchiha for a time.

Sakura recognizes this familiar ‘epiphany’: she feels nothing like love for Sasuke. In all honesty she wishes to spit the taste of his name from her mouth and be done with it. But every time this realization drags itself back up from the depths of her consciousness, it feels as newly minted as a golden coin.

Later on in the evening Sakura makes her way to the Hokage’s office to report her self-instruction on body seals. Dying beams of sunset paints her skin orange and red through the windows of the empty hallways. Silence reigns save for a faint echoing of footsteps.

The massive doors to Tsunade’s office creak as she opens them, sending a sharp thrill racing down her spine. Sakura blinks and enters the room to make her report. After she is done she asks her mentor to teach her a jutsu for life.

Tsunade says nothing as her green glass eyes glitter in the sunset.

“Please,” Sakura asks, her voice weaving through the quiet as another thread of fate.

She is fifteen years old.

--

It is only moments later that Sakura finds herself confronting Sasuke, in the desert of all places.

(In her imaginations Sakura always figured that Naruto and Sai and she would find Sasuke in the lush coolness of a forest, his words slithering through the air to a background of softly running water. The day would be cloudy, the woods would thus be dark, and Sasuke would attack them, and they would defeat him.

Sasuke would curse and writhe in his bonds. Sakura would slap him for his traitorous and hateful words. Naruto would clench his fists open and closed, fiery red chakra painting his features with uncharacteristically cold violence. Sai would say something off-color, and it would fall flat on their exhausted ears.

They would take Sasuke back to Konoha and things would turn out all right.)

But this is reality, complete with sand and sun and unrelenting heat.

Sakura squints in the too-bright light and waits for Naruto to charge their fallen friend. They are fifty meters ahead of her position and throwing words that are likely sharper than the kunai at their sides, though Sakura cannot hear them. Sweat drips along her jawline.

Then without warning Sasuke is in front of her, displacing sand and emanating murderous intent, his enhanced form of Chidori crackling and singing and heading for her directly for her abdomen.

In the lifetime between two indecipherable thoughts Sakura tastes black bitterness and longing.

Not moving, Sakura allows the Uchiha to make contact, and a pained scream bellows forth from her chapped lips. She almost smiles as he hesitates with his burning fist ensconced in her viscera. Without thought she grasps his arm, channeling her frugally stored chakra into her hands so that she can crush the bones of his arm into dust. Her muscles tense, readying to contract.

She squeezes, almost gently, and twists.

Sasuke screams and lurches back, his shattered arm bathed in blood. Shiny white bone protrudes grotesquely from the cool white skin, and Sakura laughs weakly as she falls into the sand. She can hear Naruto and Sai attacking Sasuke, but she does not concentrate on their battle. Instead she grasps, fumbling in herself for that life-saving reserve, that jutsu that Tsunade was so reluctant to teach her.

Her hands are so cold and numb she can hardly form the seals.

(She is sixteen years old.)

--

Sakura has not seen Sasuke for many months. It is as if he is a phantom lurking in the dark night, waiting to encounter her as she gets a glass of water from the tap at three in the morning.

(She imagines that when she sees him next they will sit in the same room, maybe at a table where she can see his eyes and his expression rather than simply tracing the wood grain on the tabletop. He will sneer unattractively while she collects her words in her mouth until their flavor is correct.

Then he will say, “You said you loved me, would do anything for me.”

The words will curdle to acid on her tongue. She spits them out. “I did. I would have.”

“Liar.”

He will spit in her face, and she will not be hurt. She does not feel anything like love for the man in front of her. She will not.)

Each morning she waits for Tsunade to allow her access to visit Sasuke that she might see if the scene in her mind will play out as she thinks. She ignores the searching glances her mentor takes, ignores the way Naruto will timidly stroke her forearm when they sit together at the Ichiraku. She ignores Sai just because it is second nature.

One day, shortly after her birthday, Ino asks Sakura almost tentatively when she will be able to visit Sasuke.

“I don’t know,” she answers her friend. “I don’t know.”

“Do you want to visit him at all?” the blond questions, stopping and gripping Sakura’s shoulder tightly. Sakura feels a clenching deep within her gut.

She pictures the way his throat twisted and corded as he screamed so long ago when she mangled his arm. “I have to,” she replies, her voice carrying down the hallway. “It’s him.”

(She is seventeen years old.)

--

Their long overdue reunion did not play out as she thought it would.

Tsunade tells her at the end of a graveyard shift at the hospital that Sasuke has finally been released from his re-conditioning and confinement. Sakura nods and gives her mentor a reply that she cannot remember two seconds later.

“Sakura,” Tsunade calls. Sakura turns and regards the older woman silently. “He is not the boy you knew. Don’t delude yourself.”

She nods. “Don’t worry. I’m not the girl he knew, either.”

It is chill and silent as she winds her way down the streets to the Uchiha compound. Years have passed since she loitered near the gates, childishly hoping to catch a glimpse of her beloved Sasuke. Paint is flaking from the gate and weeds mar the pathway. The area sends out ripples of sad and lonely absence.

Sakura waits tiredly for Sasuke to answer her hollow sounding knocks. She is almost surprised that he answers the door, but then again, he is not the boy she knew.

Without a word he motions for her to come inside, and she does so just the same. A quick grimace twists her lips she catches a glimpse of his maimed arm.

“Why are you here?” he spits out after serving her a cup of lukewarm tea.

Sakura takes a sip and licks her lips, trying to erase the stale taste of the tea from her tongue. “I had to see you.”

He does not deign to reply and instead drinks his own tea. They stay this way for a while, drinking cooling tea, fumbling for words they will not say to each other.

Sakura lays her hand on the table, splaying her fingers on the wood. Sasuke watches her fingers as they lay unmoving on the tabletop. After a few moments he moves his scarred arm and crooked fingers so that they rest gently upon hers, and Sakura knows in that gesture how much Sasuke has changed.

“What will you do now?” she finds herself asking, unable to move her eyes away from the image of their touching fingers.

He withdraws his hand awkwardly and stands. “I will live, I suppose.”

(She imagines that he is speaking truly. She will return another evening to drink stale tea and speak of nothing.

Sakura establishes a routine of only visiting him at night. When she comes they sit outside, side by side. Sometimes she brings sake pilfered from Tsunade’s vast stock, and they drink it in sips to chase away the memories and the things they will not say.

One night, just as she stands to leave, he will grasp her hand. Slowly, seeming to gauge her reaction, Sasuke will bring her wrist to lips cold lips until they warm to her body temperature.

She will turn and trail her fingers to his throat, feeling the rapid pulse and the ridges of his trachea as he breathes.)

“Sasuke.”

“Yes?”

“When you left before,” she says softly. “You thanked me. I just wanted to tell you that you’re welcome. That is why I came.”

Sasuke nods and walks her to the door and closes the door once she leaves. The night is even more chill than before. As she makes her way to her apartment, the sun begins to peak on the horizon and spill onto the streets.

(She is eighteen years old.)

--
--
--

My first Naruto fic. I posted it on ff.net prior to Drinking from the Mnemosyne, but didn't get it onto my LJ until now. I'm not too sure about it. It could be taken as either a pairing or not. I personally didn't plan on it being a pairing, but who knows?

Drinking from the Mnemosyne, 2nd installment

Tue, 09 Jan 2007 02:23:43 GMT

Title: Drinking from the Mnemosyne
Rating: T/PG-13
Summary: Life is measured in minutes which you never forget. [Neji, Sakura]
Characters: Sakura, Neji, Naruto, Tsunade, Genma, Ino

Disclaimer: Naruto is © Masashi Kishimoto.

--

Theme: #19 - Crazy

--

It is six o’clock in the evening, the sun is setting, and Sakura feels more than just a little restless. Normally on her half-days—rare as they are she does have a routine with them—she goes home, eats lunch, naps, and then spends the rest of the evening playing catch up with laundry or housecleaning. Occasionally she orders take-out and flips on her neglected black-and-white television. But sometimes she goes stir-crazy within the confines of her small apartment, and it seems that today is one of those days.

It helps that she finished her laundry the day before in a fit of energy and laziness keeps her from scrubbing the tiny tiled shower.

Having nothing pressing that she is willing to do, Sakura slowly searches her closet, looking for an outfit to wear. She figures that Ino will be more than willing to sit with her at the bar and drunkenly ogle men. Although, Sakura will not really be the drunken one, not with the tolerance she has built up over the years under Tsunade’s tutelage.

Sakura cannot recall the number of times that her mentor has decided to turn her quiz on anatomy into a drinking game when she reported late into the evening. Calling the resulting hangover a factor to show how much more she needed to study, Tsunade would give Sakura a recipe for a hangover remedy with a wistful glint in her eyes. Protesting that the alcohol would damage her brain, Sakura had not expected her mentor to laugh and wave her away.

All she got in the end for her numerous protests was a command to drink more water and to attend Shizune on rounds through the intensive care unit of the hospital.

Shaking her head in familiar aggravation, Sakura snatches an outfit that was only a slight variation from her old chunin skirt and top. After donning the familiar clothes and applying a cursory amount of makeup, she leaves for Ino’s house.

Her blonde friend is mildly surprised by Sakura’s appearance on her doorstep. “Is someone wanting to get laid?” she questions half-jokingly.

“I figured I needed to follow the buddy system,” Sakura counters, proud that her voice does not come completely out as an unattractive squawk. “Or are you otherwise engaged?”

Ino huffs and drops the bag of chips she had been holding. “Of course I’ll come! I have to give the guys something nice to look at, forehead-girl. Just let me put on my sexy new outfit!”
--

“And so, men are animals,” Ino finishes while throwing back yet another toss of sake. She scans the room with bleary blue eyes, a small frown settling on her lips.

Sakura bites her tongue, but the words still slip out. “I don’t think you’re being fair.”

“What?” The blonde whips her head to glare at Sakura. “So it’s not beast-like at all when a guy grabs your ass and says ‘Hey, let’s fuck in the closet’ two minutes after you meet him? I’m not a piece of meat, you know!”

Thankful that Ino words come out as a slurred hiss rather than a screech, Sakura waves her hands. “No, it is! I just think that you’re exaggerating.”

“Hmph.”

“Anyway, I don’t think Kiba was really that crude, right?” She thinks. “A closet?”

“Would I lie to you about my sex life?” Ino says with an arrogant tone.

Sakura rolls her eyes, annoyed that her plans for the evening are being painfully shot down. It is just her luck for Ino to flout her sexual escapades with that challenging tone of voice, especially when Sakura simply wants to have a good time. It’s little wonder that Ino is able to maintain her good girl image with her parents, considering the tales she tells Sakura whenever they hang out together.

It’s not as if Sakura is a nun. Ino just seems to think that Sakura does not know just exactly what that nebulous act called sex is.

“Maybe we should call it a night,” she suggests. Ino stretches in her seat and shakes her head.

“No... Let’s go visit them,” Ino says after a moment. She points to a corner on the far side of the bar, making Sakura turn in her seat to see who exactly she is pointing at. Ino has pointed to Genma and some older jonin that Sakura has seen enough times in Tsunade’s office to recognize their faces but not their names.

She shakes her head. “Ino, no, I think I’m going to go ho-.”

“-GENMA! Over here!”

For a moment, all Sakura can do is wince as her left ear rings. Then there is a hand on her shoulder placed in a too familiar way and Ino is smiling like a cat that got the cream. Spiked cream.

“Hey ladies,” Genma drawls around the senbon firmly planted in his mouth. “You called?”

Ino stands up and juts out her chest just a touch too directly. “How ‘bout we join you? Sakura told me she’s been dying to meet your friends.”

“Sure thing.”

Sakura kicks Ino in the ankle as she vacates her chair. “Actually, I-”

Interrupting her again, Ino smirks and trills, “Thanks, Genma! You’re a pal!”

Within five seconds Sakura has been herded across the room and forcefully—she thought Ino was drunk, damn it, how is this happening?—plunked down by Ino in a vinyl seat booth. Another round of drinks is ordered, and Sakura finds herself relaxing after a bit. In between the questions put to her by the older jonin, Sakura pierces Ino with a glare that is only partly show. Saving face and all that.

It is nice to just be part of the atmosphere, laughing and drinking and not caring.

The topics of the group’s conversation jump around like Naruto when he hears the word ramen. Ino laughs and squeals much like a pig, to Sakura’s personal delight, as the jokes Genma and she throw back and forth get more and more risqué. Running a hand through her loose hair, Sakura looks around during a rare lull in the conversation and spots Neji Hyuga making his way towards their table.

Aoba, one jonin Sakura finally has found a name for, follows her line of sight and waves Neji over to their table. She figures that it is not unusual for Neji to join the others for drinks, as they do not comment on it.

“Sakura, move your ass so Neji can sit down,” Ino commands, waving her drink in hand. Some of it spills on to Genma, but he simply laughs it off. Sakura wonders when Ino and Neji became such friends. Probably once the liquor started flowing. Not that any alcohol influence is needed. Neji is looking particularly handsome this evening.

Sakura slides over, now squeezed tightly between Ino and Neji. His white trailing sleeve puddles against her thigh, and she can feel the night’s chill in the cloth. A faint scent of dried sweat tickles her nose, and she turns slightly towards the Hyuga prodigy. Her hand twitches with repressed desire to rub the cool cloth between her fingers.

“Did you just finish training?” she asks as way to politely acknowledge his rather close presence.

Neji places a hand on the tabletop and takes the drink that Genma slides to him before answering. “Yes.”

“Were you training with Rock Lee?”

“I trained alone,” he replies. “The others are on a mission.”

His colorless eyes meet hers for a moment, and Sakura cannot make herself look away. Neji shifts slightly, his calf lightly rubbing her own, and she blinks before turning away and berating herself for staring so blatantly. His leg moves again against her own, and she clenches her dish of sake to her lips to prevent a highly nervous laugh from escaping.

She has to resist the urge to stare at him. His leg does not move from beside her own the entire night. In fact, it moves too often for Sakura to think it is anything but intentional.

--

“Ha! We made you blush again!” Ino squawks. She forces another cup of sake into Sakura’s hand. “Drink it!”

“Like it’s that hard with my coloring,” she mutters.

Sakura sighs and downs the drink without protesting; it’s not like this drinking game will end up with her becoming so very drunk. Thanks be for that at least, she thinks. It is more likely that she will have to drag Ino home in the next half hour to save the blonde from the hangover from hell. The night’s events, along with the alcohol, have tired her out, and all she wants to do is go home and shower and collapse onto her futon face-first.

She thinks idly of leaving Ino to get home by herself for dragging her to this table and instead settles on staying, as Neji’s leg is still entwined with her own.

Genma, as if reading her mind, says that he is calling it a night. Soon after Aoba and his jonin colleagues depart, leaving the table to Ino, Sakura, Neji on their cramped side of the booth.

Sakura nudges her blonde friend. “I guess it’s time to go, Ino. Can you walk?”

“Mm?” Ino looks at her fuzzily. In the two minutes since her male entertainment left Ino has turned into dead weight. “Walk? Yeah.”

Sakura raises her brow skeptically and turns to Neji with an aggrieved expression, forcing herself to not look directly into his very interesting eyes. “Can you help me get her home?”

The dark haired man nods and takes one of Ino’s arms to help her from the seat. Sakura holds back a pout when his leg moves, leaving her own slightly chilled. Goosebumps run along her arms.

Sakura thanks him, suddenly a little shy, and takes the other arm. Ino is halfway able to walk home, but every now and then on the ten minute way both Neji and Sakura have to lend her their hand for balance. They get Ino to her house without too much trouble, not counting the random, less-than-subtle catcall Ino gives Neji before closing the door.

Now alone together in the street with Neji, Sakura feels even shyer. She does not know the man at all other from office gossip, stories from Naruto, and that one return trip form Suna after the Akatsuki attack. She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and thinks about what she should say. He just stands there looking at her most expectantly, which begins to annoy her as the seconds tick by.

“Well, thanks for your help,” she says primly, beginning down the street in the direction of her apartment. “Goodnight.” She is not too surprised when Neji walks after her and makes his pace match hers.

Sakura looks at him. “You don’t have to walk me home.”

“Who said I was?” he asks near a full minute later.

Sakura frowns in mock exaggerated thought. “I could have sworn that the Hyuga estate is on the opposite side of town. So, if you’re not walking me home—without my permission, I might add—then where are you going?” she questions with a grin. “Meeting someone special?”

Neji glances at her. “You could say that.”

“Oh.” Sakura stops for a second, wondering whether or not if she is reading too much into an seemingly innocent statement, and then catches up as he continues walking. “Well, I guess I can let you escort me home since it’s on the way.”

Neji makes a sound in agreement. They continue their way to her apartment complex in relative silence, save for the few directional cues she speaks aloud. During the walk she cannot help but wonder why he is gracing her with his attention. She also wonders the reasons he had for sitting through that ridiculous drinking game Ino had proposed. Sakura herself could not have escaped, having been trapped by the surrounding bodies, but Neji could have left.

But then his very nice leg would have also left, and Sakura is glad that he stayed.

He does not seem to her the type of person to sit around telling jokes and drinking sake and laughing. Had she seen him laugh once during the night? Her memory deserts her, and Sakura settles with a negative. She turns her face to watch the taller man at her side, her head tilting as she studies him.

She concludes that Neji is rather like Sasuke in regard to his social expression. The thought brings only a small twinge pain, as anything relating to her former teammate does. Some days Sasuke’s memory is nothing except a memory, but there are those few days where it is painful even to look at Kakashi without her chest constricting painfully.

Finally realizing that she is once again staring at Neji, and sure that he is aware of her vivid green gaze, Sakura pulls her eyes away and clears her throat quietly. She can see her apartment door from where they are and thus debates on whether to invite Neji in for a drink would be too awkwardly tense or not. They really do not know each other at all.

“This is my complex,” she lets out softly. “Do you want a glass of water or anything?”

Neji stands there with his arms at his sides, watching her as she becomes more and more disconcerted. Eventually he nods and politely follows her to her door. Sakura bites her lip to keep from laughing at the nervousness in her stomach. Once inside she smiles and shows him the faded couch.

“I’ll be just a minute Don’t get lost in here.”

“Hn.”

Sakura takes the pitcher of water from her refrigerator and pours the chilled water into two glasses before returning to her modest living room. Neji is standing over her cluttered desk, his fingers trailing over the page of one of her numerous medical textbooks. She places the glasses on the coffee table. The clinking of the glass on wood causes him to turn and look at her.

“I wondered for a while why there aren’t more Hyuga medic-nin,” Sakura says as she motions for him to sit down. Hopefully this topic is something he can discuss, and if not, she understands the secrecy the Hyuga maintain regarding anything related to their bloodline limit. “With your ability to see chakra pathways--Is there a reason?”

Neji sits and sweeps his hair back over his shoulder, reminding her of Ino. She hides her amused smile into her water before looking at him for a response.

“There are few medic-nin from the Hyuga clan because we cannot risk the byakugan.”

“I see,” Sakura replies, though his explanation does not satisfy her curiosity. She relaxes into her seat across from Neji, barely holding back a yawn. “How is Hinata? Is her arm healing well?”

“Yes. She is well.”

Sakura smiles. “I’m glad. She came to the hospital in a bad state. Naruto was such a pest the entire time.”

“That is not unnatural.”

“Tell me about it,” she lets out with a laugh that is a bit too loud. Inwardly wincing, Sakura searches for another topic to broach with the relative stranger sitting on her dilapidated couch. “So.”

Oh great, she thinks, that is a great way to initiate conversation. He’ll nod again and when you start spouting nonsensical questions he’ll really know that you’re a social idiot. All you need now is a giant tattoo on your giant forehead.

Neji nods during her inner tirade and places his barely touched beverage on the coffee table. “Thank you for the water.”

Sakura blinks hurriedly, surprised by his abrupt move to leave. “Oh. Well, thanks again for helping me with Ino. She’s a handful when she’s drunk.” They walk to the door.

The door opens noiselessly, letting in a draft of chill air. Neji lingers in the doorway, and she stands there with her hand on the brass handle. Another bout of nervousness assaults her stomach. Sakura mentally kicks herself for being so; it’s not like they are on a date or anything even resembling that. He just felt up her leg with his own all night. Well, she may be reading too much into it, as it her wont.

He could have mistaken her leg for the table leg for all she knows. She hates that she gets this way around men, especially attractive ones. A sigh almost makes its way past her lips.

“Goodnight, Neji.”

“Yes. Goodnight,” he replies, still hovering in her doorway. Sakura fidgets, waiting for him to walk off. Neji looks her straight in the eyes with his own colorless ones, and she swallows reflexively. He nods. Again.

He turns and starts down the stairs leading from her complex. Sakura bites her tongue before stepping from her portal and quietly calls his name. Neji stops and half-turns to face Sakura.

“Um, would you like to have dinner sometime?” she asks weakly, wondering where in the world this impulse is coming from. She wishes she could blame it on the alcohol. She wishes she could blame it on his eyes and his face. She wishes it isn’t because she is completely insane and over-analyzing or all of the above.

“When?” he asks without missing a beat, startling her out of another inner rant.

Sakura taps her lips with a finger and mentally reviews her schedule. “How about Tuesday? Just come here around seven. I’ll, uh, cook something.”

Oh heaven, she thinks after she blurts that out. She just told him she would cook. Sakura prays that Naruto has not been telling all of Konoha how bad of a cook she is. But Neji simply nods and leaves her standing on the landing. After watching his turn the corner, she notices her shivers from the night’s chill. She goes inside and ponders over the night’s new development.

--

The next day, during her thirty minute lunch break, Naruto unexpectantly visits her in a whirlwind of energy and sunny smiles.

“What’s going on?” she asks, fearing that his smile is the result of something that does not bode well for her.

Naruto gives her his cheekiest grin. “Guess.”

She rolls her eyes. “You won a lifetime supply of ramen.”

“Nope. That would be awesome, though.”

“You weren’t peeping in the bathhouses, were you?” she questions shrilly. For a minute there, his expression had reminded her acutely of that pervert Jiraiya.

He backs away and out of the range of her fists. “NO!”

Sakura stretches in her uncomfortable plastic chair and purses her lips in thinly veiled distrust. “I don’t have time for this, Naruto. Just tell me.”

His grin only returns and brightens. “Hinata and I are getting married!”

Sakura gapes. It is the only thing she can do. All rational thought has fled her brain. She imagines that her brain cells are all screaming ‘what?’ in tandem with her. “What? But, I thought,” she sputters. “I thought you said that she said that her father wouldn’t allow it. The Hyuga head!”

Naruto bounces on his toes. “Well, let’s just say that it’s going to happen, okay!”

With that bomb of a message the fox-boy leaves Sakura, and for the rest of the day she pinches herself to make sure she isn’t dreaming. It is so strange to think of Naruto getting married, especially to someone so timid as Hinata. It was a miracle in itself that the two had even begun dating, but Sakura figures that their relationship began the day Naruto noticed exactly how much Hinata had grown.

Or rather, how much her feminine assets had grown. It is sad but true. However his attraction had started, Sakura knows how the blonde truly and obnoxiously loves his soon-to-be wife.

Thoughts of Naruto and Hinata led her of course to think of Neji and their impending dinner date. It seemed too surreal to actually be true to Sakura. Sakura Haruno, on a date with the Neji Hyuga.

“Do I even like him?” she asks aloud without thinking.

She sure liked his leg the other night.

“Who do you like?” Tsunade questions with an interested grin.

Sakura jumps.

--

It is six o’clock in the evening, the sun is setting, and Sakura feels more than just a little restless. She actually feels like a tiger stalking moodily in its cage. The pink-haired woman stirs the pasta she is preparing a few more times to get the noodles that are sticking to the pot and clucks her tongue. Pasta is unbelievably easy to cook, but she still does not trust herself that far.

And it is not as if she can’t cook per se, it is more that she is easily distracted in this particular area. Give her a fractured arm to mend or a report to compose. Anything but cooking. Something invariably goes wrong during the intervals when she must simply wait for the item to cook. For instance, she was waiting for a casserole to bake in the oven a few weeks ago and became engrossed in a journal article, unaware that she forgot to set the timer. About forty-five minutes later she was smelling the unappetizing aroma of burnt vegetables and cheese.

Sakura stirs the sauce simmering on the stove. She thinks of all the conversations she has had with Neji, and she frowns when the number adds up to only a handful. Why is she getting so worked up over him? Sighing deeply, she closes her eyes and thinks.

It would be a bald-faced lie for Sakura to say that she did not find him unreasonably attractive. She dared not to tread the path leading to the question of whether or not she would sleep with him. (She would, but that thought is too much for her brain to handle as it is still recovering from Naruto’s earlier revelation. So it stayed tucked into the shadows for later rumination.) Things were in their infancy, if that. So, he was a nice looking male. Check that. Sakura shakes her head, thinking of her impression of him.

Neji is very formal and serious and, well, tall. He does not talk a lot. His eyes make her stomach dance and not in an entirely pleasing way. Sakura stirs the sauce again, frowning at the resistance at the bottom of the pan.

“I better not burn this,” she mutters to herself. “That would take the cake.”

She wonders if she should treat this as just a friendly dinner and not as some kind of tense romantic situation. Neither she nor Neji had ever said it was a date. It could be maintained that he was coming over for a completely platonic dinner only for her stimulating conversation. But that is complete and utter bull, as she well knows. Neji and she are not friends, merely professional acquaintances. There would be no other reason for a dinner, at her home, unless it is romantically and/or sexually driven.

And she knows it is driven thus. How can she not? Sakura was up half the night before staring at her pores in the mirror. (She has a thing about her pores. Call it an endearing idiosyncrasy.)

Then a thought hits her. Is Neji Hyuga purposely trying to seduce her? The silly context of this thought makes Sakura laugh deep from the belly. “Yeah,” she mutters to herself. “If you count playing footsie and lingering in the doorway as seductive ploys, which I seem to be doing.” She looks around the small apartment suddenly, a little paranoid. “I need to stop talking to myself.”

The pasta is finished cooking, so Sakura strains the water and mixes the sauce a few more times before lowering the temperature. She decides it can simmer a minute or two more. Adding a few adjustments to the table setting, Sakura concludes that it was better for her not to place candles on the table. Neji does not seem the type of man who would appreciate sentimental gestures like that.

Again, for the hundredth time, Sakura wonders why she asked Neji to eat dinner with her. Was it because of the way his eyes had held hers at the bar? Or was it the hesitance in her doorway and the play of the moonlight on his white training uniform? She does not know why, and this bothers her. She is not a spontaneous person, usually.

A knock on her door interrupts her thoughts, and Sakura’s stomach clenches. She goes and opens the door, unsure of what to expect. Would he bring flowers? Probably not, she thinks with detached amusement. It strikes her once more that she has trouble imagining such a reserved person as Neji as being the kind of person to give her flowers.

Smiling a bit too brightly, she greets Neji, who looks as cool as ever. “Evening. Come in?”

Neji steps inside at her invitation. Sakura notes that he is dressed none too different than usual, and this fact lets her relax a little. Then she remembers the sauce simmering on the burner and runs into the kitchen.

“Shit!” Sakura glares death at her pasta sauce. It is edible, but the flavor will be partly liquid charcoal. She hears Neji firmly shut the door.

He comes into the small kitchen, watching her mutter curses at the deviant saucepan. “What’s wrong?”

Sakura gestures to the sauce, then turns to dig into the fridge for some milk. Milk might subdue the burnt flavor. “I’m not the best cook,” she says with her head in the fridge. “But don’t worry, I can treat you if you get sick!”

“I doubt that will happen,” he replies with a half-smirk.

Sakura blushes as she realizes he had been watching her go through the refrigerator. She wonders if he was checking her out or not, and thought sends a thrill up her spine. Act like an adult, she mentally berates herself. You’re twenty-two for heaven’s sake! It’s not like guys never look at you, and you know it. And he was totally looking!

Grinning a bit widely, she moves toward her table. “Um, if you want to sit down, we can eat.”

Neji nods and follows her to the table. They sit and fix their plates in total quiet. Sakura takes a bite and tastes the flavor of the sauce. It isn’t exactly unappetizing, she figures, but it isn’t something which she would pay for to eat. Oh well.

“Do you play poker?” she asks once the sound of their cutlery scraping against the dishes begins to bother her. What is his point in being silent?

“What?”

“Well, I ask because you have the face for it.”

“Is that a compliment?” he questions with a strange expression.

Sakura’s cheeks gain a slight pink tinge. “Yes. I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to insult you or anything.” She begins to blush even harder as the moment lingers. Then she remembers about Naruto and Hinata.

“Ah! What do think about Hinata’s engagement?”

Neji visibly starts, and Sakura winces, thinking suddenly that maybe it was supposed to be secret and that Naruto was a stupid idiot for yelling it to her at the hospital. Gossip and viruses are the top two things spread in a hospital. Everyone knows that.

Then Neji is speaking. “It is impressive that Naruto was able to gain the consent of my uncle, considering the circumstances.”

“I had thought that they had been denied once before,” Sakura said with a hint of question in her tone.

“Yes. I don’t know how this changed.” He meets her eyes. “I have not approached Hinata about it other than to congratulate her.”

Sakura takes a sip of her drink and studies Neji’s expression, little as it is. “You think something seems off about it?”

He seems to hesitate, and Sakura hastens to reassure him that their conversation will not be repeated. “Hinata is the heir. By being allowed to wed someone like Naruto, who has no family or influence, it does not bode well to me.”

She muses over his words for a moment. “Maybe it was allowed because Naruto is going to be Hokage one day.” Intercepting Neji’s skeptical look, she explains herself. “I used to think that he was such an annoyance. I thought he was nothing and nobody. But now...”

Sakura smiles at Neji, her face and voice full of conviction. “I really think that he’ll be named Hokage. Maybe your uncle realizes this. I mean, it is no secret that Tsunade favors Naruto. Even the Council knows it. So maybe he gave them permission on the future assumption that with his status as Hokage, Naruto will give even more power and influence to the Hyuga clan. Especially since Hinata is heir.”

Neji’s brow furrows in thought. “It is possible. Naruto is full of tricks and surprises.”

Sakura feels much more comfortable in his presence now, for some reason she cannot fathom. Maybe it is the realization that they are both concerned about the same people. She rests her hand in her chin and watches Neji think about her words. He seems absorbed in the things tumbling through his mind.

“I feel sorry for her, though,” she lets outs. The corners of her mouth quirk up. “If their children are anything like Naruto, Hinata will have her work cut out for her.”

Neji chuckles at this after a second, and then he catches Sakura staring at him for it. He raises a brow in question. “Yes?”

“I’m sorry,” she lets out, feeling the redness creeping upon her skin. She should just get used to the feeling, she guesses. “I was thinking the other night that I had never heard you laugh, and then you did just a second ago. It was nice.”

“Hn.”

The phrase tumbles off her tongue before she can catch it. “They say laughter is the best medicine.”

Neji shrugs fluidly. “I suppose.”

She tucks her hair behind her ear and continues eating. Now Sakura is even more confused as to how she views the man sitting across from her. All she can really focus on is wondering if Neji is trying to start something with her and if she even wants that at all. Asking him bluntly will not be the best approach. Unless it is.

Soon enough they were finished eating. Sakura clears the dishes while Neji investigates her bookshelf, rather than her desk. She knows he would find that the two contained the same subject matter—medicine and scientific journals. After the dishes are placed to soak in the sink, Sakura joins him in the living room.

“I hope you enjoyed the food, even though it was sub-par,” she says apologetically. “My mother would be ashamed of me.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Neji states. “Food is food.”

“Ha! We’re of a like mind.” She grins. “So I suppose you’d even eat burnt toast after scraping the black off?”

He wrinkles his nose slightly, causing Sakura to giggle, albeit nervously. But she stops as his eyes settle on to her own. All she can do now is try to breathe normally because the uncomfortable stomach flips are back.

Oh no, she thinks, this is definitely not a platonic vibe in the air.

Sakura breaks eye contact and licks her lips. She senses Neji move forward, and she feels the question in his movement. Turning back to face him, she looks at his nose so she can concentrate. Neji slides his hand upwards along her arm to rest at the shoulder. His touch remains there, gentle and light.

“What are we doing?” she wants to ask. “Is this even a date? Do you like me, or something?” The questions pile upon her tongue, pushing forth impatiently to be uttered. Eventually she settles for a smile, though the muscles in her cheeks pull uncomfortably. She settles on pushing him towards some sort of action.

“Well, I guess this is it, right? Unless you want me to burn some more food for your enjoyment?”

Neji steps even closer, his voice sounding unnaturally muted. “Do you want me to leave?”

“I don’t know,” she whispers in truthful uncertainty, meeting his eyes. She wants to know what his intentions are before he does, damn it all. This confusion is starting to make her angry. She is the type of person who wants to know all the facts and now.

She pauses and asks with more than a hint of a challenge, “Are you going to kiss me before you go?”

Neji’s expression is both hard and easy to read; however, she is not really watching it but anticipating his movement. The way he kisses her is surprisingly chaste, simply lips pressed together for a second. Then he takes her mouth by force and kisses her like she never expected him to. It is near to bruising while still being enjoyable (his tongue especially; he is doing magical things with it), and there is some lingering sense of repressed emotion in the way he caresses her cheek.

Sakura finds it funny that she can split herself so by enjoying him as well as thinking about how different he is from her previous estimations. She is very good at multitasking. Except when cooking.

A laugh bubbles in her throat and Neji breaks their kiss. Sakura waves her hand, licking her slightly bruised lips. No fair. “Sorry. It’s not you. I just had a stupid thought.”

Now that the rush of the kiss is fading, surprisingly to her regret, Sakura realizes that she wants what he was holding back in their kiss to linger on her lips and cheek before starting anew. His interest in her is strange and exhilarating as well as perplexing. There is something that Sakura feels like she is missing, and she wants it badly enough to wait a little for it.

She does not particularly want to jump into this highly charged situation in her current state of mind (being mostly giddiness and hazy arousal), so she tells him maybe they should say goodnight. Neji agrees with yet another trademark nod. Sakura muses that he had met his quota of spoken words for the day.

As he walks through the doorway and onto the landing, Sakura catches his sleeve and kisses him again, this time on the cheek, for just a moment. The fabric is soft between the pads of her thumb and forefinger as she grips it.

“Goodnight,” Neji lets out, the hint of a smirk on his face.

Sakura smiles thoughtfully at his departing backside. It’s a very nice view. “You, too.”

Once a few minutes have passed, Sakura closes and slumps against the door. This is too much for her poor brain to handle.

--

Four days later Sakura finds a terse letter from Neji in her locker while she is changing into her uniform for her shift at the hospital. Obviously he has no qualms with breaking into her locker. The thought brings a silly grin to her face, though she does not know it.

He writes that he has been assigned a mission of indeterminate length and that once he returns he would like to see her again. Sakura stares at the letter again and again later throughout her lunch break, debating over whether or not she can really say that Neji Hyuga is someone she really wants to entangle herself with.

(Sakura knows how—and where—she wants to entangle herself with Neji, but she shies just a little from the idea of it for now.)

The letter makes a home in her pocket, and she obsessively checks to see if it is still there every morning for the rest of the week before it is accidentally washed into neatly folded pieces when she does her laundry.

She doesn’t mention their date or the letter or the letter’s untimely demise to Ino when she goes to visit one evening around a fortnight later. All she says to her friend is that she thinks she is slowly going crazy.

Ino simply rolls her eyes. “We already knew that, forehead girl.”

--
--
--

So, chapter two is finito. Onward I go.

Drinking from the Mnemosyne, 1st installment

Sun, 17 Dec 2006 21:40:23 GMT

Title: Drinking from the Mnemosyne
Rating: T/PG-13
Summary: Life is measured in minutes which you never forget. [Neji, Sakura]
Characters: Sakura, Neji, Hinata

Disclaimer: Naruto is © Masashi Kishimoto.

--

Theme: #1 - Tired

--

Their first date involved a one-sided drinking game and too much sake.

Their second date she cooked pasta. It was edible, barely.

The third was Naruto and Hinata’s wedding. After that, she stopped counting dates and simply allowed herself to enjoy his presence. It kept some of the loneliness away.

Eventually she began to fall for him, and she thought he did for her. The thought was frightening and exhilarating and made her lose sleep so much that even Naruto noticed.

--

The image from a hanging mirror catches her eye, and she stops for a moment before moving on through the hushed hallway.

Her hair, once so alive and vibrant, has faded with age into the lightest pink of a cherry blossom that one can ever see. On the good days it makes her think longingly of bright dyes and familiar vanity and happy reflections. On the bad it reminds her of her former teacher.

She does not dye her hair.

Sakura shakes her head and feels the creases on her forehead smooth.

--

“It looks right.”

“What does?”

“You, holding a child with Hyuuga eyes.”

“Is that so? Are you trying to tell me something?”

She can almost see the man choose and discard words before he replies. “Maybe.”

“Wow, that answer definitely makes me want to procreate with you.”

“Hn.”

--

She knocks confidently on the door, even though it is only a formality. In this house of all-seeing eyes, formality is valued so much so that its aura has stained the floors dark and cold. A soft and feminine voice calls her in, and when she enters she is only mildly surprised to see him there along with Hinata and her small babe.

“Hinata,” she says, bowing. “Neji.”

“I’m glad you could come, Sakura.” The dark haired woman bites her lip, and Sakura’s heart clenches. The unspoken words hang in the air. Sakura tries to focus, looking at the paleness of Hinata’s skin and the dark smudges of sleeplessness under her milky eyes.

“How could I not?” she replies, coming to sit near the woman. Neji says nothing.

The babe in Hinata’s arms stirs, mewling like a kit.

--

“I think I’ll keep my clothes on, thank you very much.”

He traces a finger along the inner surface of her arm, and she pulls away. “I think not,” he replies.

“Hmph. You pig, thinking only of one thing.”

“Hn.”

“I don’t know if I can stay here if all you’re going to do is grunt and paw at me.”

He grasps her wrist as she moves away. “Stay.”

She looks into his eyes. “For a little while.”

--

Sakura’s throat clenches painfully as the child fusses. Hinata smiles crookedly and leaves the room with her babe in tow. Silence cloaks the room, and eventually, Sakura lets her eyes roam to Neji’s form. She drinks his image in.

It is bittersweet to see him doing the same.

The man is watching her watch him. He does not move a muscle, but he does blink. Once the pain in her throat fades, and she can breathe again, Sakura speaks to him.

“How is she handling the situation?”

His lips twist for a second, then smooth, but she catches it. “She is weak from the birth. She does not sleep well.”

“I hope that she has a nursemaid on hand?” she asks, knowing his answer will state the negative.

“No. She wishes to tend to the child herself.”

Sakura sighs and runs a hand tiredly through her hair. “I’m going to kill Naruto.”

--

“Sometimes I wonder why I sleep with you at all.”

He smirks. “Do you?”

She grins lustily and pulls the sheet up as she sticks her tongue out at him. “You’d be surprised.”

“I doubt it.”

She turns her face away, and the sheet drops to pool at her hips. “Neji.”

“Hm?” he lets out, eyes closed as he drifts on the verge of sleep.

“Nevermind.” She resists the urge to cling.

--

Hinata returns a few minutes later. Sakura turns her face from Neji and tells the other woman to take care of herself, something that the dark haired woman knows full well. She adds that Hinata’s husband will get his own tirade later. Hinata’s round, white eyes move slowly back and forth between Sakura and Neji.

Neji stands suddenly and leaves the room. Sakura does not watch him leave. “I think he needed to use the toilet,” she says coolly.

“Sakura,” Hinata begins, her voice reminiscent of her childhood timidity, “I had hoped that you might reconcile with Neji.”

Sakura thinks of her nights, lying awake and listening to the silence of her apartment. She thinks of the image of Neji lying in her bed as the sun slants in the morning, of his odd bits of paper and an occasional kunai left in her kitchen. She thinks of the way his fingers feel running through her hair and how her body fits against his.

“Ah.”

--

“Did you see what I left for you on the table?” he asks as she closes the front door and is easing off her sandals.

“No, I obviously just got home.”

“Look.”

She rolls her eyes, then goes to the table. Her mouth opens and closes twice as she takes in the document in front of her. “Is this... Is this your idea of a proposal?”

“Yes.”

“Please tell me that you did not just propose to me by putting a marriage license on the kitchen table.” She backs up until her bottom hits the counter.

“Sakura.”

“Neji.”

His eyes narrow as he takes in the signs her posture is giving him. “What is it?”

--

Hinata moves forward and places a cool hand upon Sakura’s own. The light haired woman sighs and swallows down the lump that had just lodged in her throat. She has not cried since her teacher’s death, has not allowed herself to wallow in self-pity and pain. Turning her face away, she waits for the burning in her throat and eyes to subside.

Hinata squeezes her hand knowingly.

It seems a lifetime before she can meet the other woman’s eyes again, but when she does, everything comes flooding out.

“I was pregnant. Neji didn’t know. I wasn’t far along—four weeks or so. He proposed the night before he left on the mission, before I knew. Before I could tell him.”

Hinata nods as she stops, understanding blazing on her face. “Then your cold was..?”

Sakura nods, weariness and stress tensing her shoulders. “While he was gone on the mission. But, Hinata, I had told him that I wouldn’t marry him.”

She sighs. “I told him no because I was scared. Everyone I love dies on me.”

Hinata moves forword, enveloping her in a loose and comforting embrace. “I think that your love is the greatest thing you can give someone, Sakura. And even though your loved ones died, at least they knew. They died, knowing you loved them.”

Sakura lets the other woman hold her, thinking of a raven-haired boy and of a lonely man. “I just hate that I can’t forget them. Every time I think I have, something makes me remember. I don’t want to burden anyone with that.”

--

“Why are you silent?” he asks. His tone sends a shiver through her heart.

She smiles falsely, hoping against hope that he will take her bluff. “I guess you knew you loved me the minute you saw me holding Hinata’s baby?”

He frowns, not knowing what to make of her words. “Sakura!”

“I can’t marry you!” she snaps. Her green eyes widen at the words as they tumble from her mouth.

Neji says nothing. His entire body stiffens.

Sakura sits down at the table, so very tired and numb and sad. She buries her face in her hands, the heels of her palms bruising her eyes.

“This is because of him, is it not?” Neji finally bites out. Sakura can feel the ice of his words stinging her skin.

“It has to be,” she whispers.

--

She leaves the Hyuuga compound drained of all emotion. It does not surprise her that Neji is in her apartment when she arrives home after a few hours of wandering the streets. Sakura goes to her bedroom, knowing he will follow her, and lies on the bed without turning on the lights.

“What you told Hinata, was it true?” His voice is hoarse. Her heart is hoarse.

“Yes.”

She thinks that he nods his understanding, but she can’t see him in the dark. “I’m sorry, Neji. I’m so sorry.”

“Will you tell me?” he says as he comes to lie by her on the cool duvet, “Why did you say no?”

She turns toward him, reaching out a hand blindly and touching his chest. “I was scared.”

“Are you still?” he asks, pulling her close. She nods into his chest, thinking of her lost loved ones.

“I don’t want to lose you too.”

“You won’t.”

“How can you be sure?”

“You won’t lose me, Sakura.”

She nods again, thinking of Sasuke and Kakashi and the almost nonexistent child that she had barely carried. She buries her face into his chest, wishing the ache in her breast and throat would ease and wishing she could weep for what she had lost.

Instead she breathes in Neji’s scent and bathes in his warmth, slowly feeling her tired body relax into sleep.

--
--
--

(I really don't like ff.net's system for editing a story. It ruins the mood of a story to have blatant dividers, and if you try to put in extra space, it deletes it. Anyway, here's the correct version for my record.

This will be ongoing from the set of prompts I obtained from the 100_situations community. The oncoming stories will be in this universe, mostly relating to Neji/Sakura, past and present. This starts them off, in the middle of their relationship. The others will add on to the plot related in this one. They will not be as disjointed as this part.)

100 situations

Sat, 16 Dec 2006 23:28:33 GMT

100_situations is a commmunity that I did not join. However, I will be using the prompts whenever the fancy strikes me. So here's the table for my reference. I'll update it with links as necessary. I think these will all go for Naruto at the moment, since it's the current crack that I like.

001.	Tired	002.	Back Alley	003.	Sunrise	004.	Late	005.	Son
006.	Hot	007.	Friend	008.	Floor	009.	Cheat	010.	Think
011.	Disgust	012.	Shelter	013.	Borrow	014.	Chair	015.	Alter
016.	Peace	017.	Beach	018.	True	019.	Crazy	020.	Love
021.	New	022.	Beggar	023.	False	024.	Happy	025.	Cancer
026.	Pickpocket	027.	Reverse	028.	Deliver	029.	Arrival	030.	Fall
031.	Knife	032.	Torn	033.	Danger	034.	Neutral	035.	Mate
036.	Fly	037.	Loud	038.	Touch	039.	Seek	040.	Argue
041.	Work	042.	Sink	043.	Nut	044.	Stuck	045.	Animal
046.	Pray	047.	Kill	048.	Light	049.	Cold	050.	Affair
051.	Restaurant	052.	Movie	053.	Wait	054.	Patient	055.	Crime
056.	Choke	057.	Fever	058.	Summer	059.	Eat	060.	Thirst
061.	Chance	062.	Appear	063.	Whisper	064.	Day	065.	Scream
066.	Fail	067.	Confused	068.	Smile	069.	Come	070.	Alone
071.	Fast	072.	Slow	073.	Return	074.	Fire	075.	Positive
076.	Baby	077.	Upset	078.	Kitchen	079.	Winter	080.	Ignorant
081.	Fool	082.	Afraid	083.	Prison	084.	Sex	085.	Hate
086.	Alarm	087.	Genius	088.	Negative	089.	Flood	090.	Bomb
091.	Hospital	092.	Trap	093.	Celebrate	094.	Old	095.	Disappear
096.	Writer‘s Choice.	097.	Writer‘s Choice.	098.	Writer‘s Choice.	099.	Writer‘s Choice.	100.	Writer‘s Choice.

Tue, 07 Nov 2006 05:44:08 GMT

This is my writing journal... Will be posting rather sporadically.