Ink-stained fingers...

[fic] Four Hikaru no Go drabbles

2008-12-14T18:15:16Z

These were written during the chats for round five of blind_go ; we did a lot of drabbles challenges. Funtimes!!

Three gen, one very mild yaoi (they don't even kiss, haha XD).

Title: Do-over
Fandom: Hikaru no Go
Genre: gen, drama, angst
Rating: G
Wordcount: 100
Characters: Hikaru, Sai (in absentia)
Summary: Hikaru wants a do-over. Prompted by murinae with "if I could do it all over again ... I'd ..."
~

I remember when I was little. Before go, before Sai. I used to call for a do-over when I messed up.

He’s gone, and it’s my fault. If I could have a do-over, I'd let him play all the games, till he reaches the Hand of God.

Then I realise he'd hate that, because he likes—liked to watch me play, and he wanted me to play. He was a better person than me for that.

He was a better person than me in a lot of ways, really, but I can’t tell him. He’s gone.

...I want a do-over.

==============

Title: Losing Side
Fandom: Hikaru no Go
Genre: gen, humour
Rating: G
Wordcount: 100
Characters: Hikaru, Akira
Summary: Betting isn't for the uninformed, but who's really the loser here? Prompt was from verloren1983, "bet."
~

“Why am I doing this again? I don’t even like soccer!”

“Don't be such a spoilsport.”

“And we aren't even old enough to be betting!”

“That's why Kurata's placing our bets for us.”

“Something tells me this is going to end poorly.”

“Only if you bet against the winners. Who'd you bet against?”

“Gamba Osaka, whoever they are.”

“...Touya, they won the championship last year!”

“Well, I didn’t know that, did I? I told you I don’t know anything about the J League standings!”

“Ha, sucker.”

“Shut up, Shindou.”

“Ow! Touya~!”

“Hmph.”

“Touya? Where’re you going? Don’t be like that!”

==============

Title: Hiding
Fandom: Hikaru no Go
Genre: gen, romance, yaoi
Rating: G
Wordcount: 100
Characters: Hikaru, Akira
Summary: Shindou knows how to hide. Prompt was from aishuu, "imagine a perfect hideaway."
~

Touya never played hide and seek as a child; he was too busy with go. He has the feeling, though, that Shindou played a lot of it. The way he can never find Shindou when he doesn’t want to be found makes him think so, anyway.

But hidden away from the world here, with Shindou pressed close to him, their fingers entwined and Shindou’s face tucked into his neck, Touya can’t help but be glad for Shindou’s apparent skill at hiding.

It isn’t quite perfect, but Touya thinks it’s as close as he’ll ever come, at least in real life.

==============

Title: Turning Pages
Fandom: Hikaru no Go
Genre: gen, angst, drama
Rating: G
Wordcount: 100
Characters: Hikaru, Sai (in absentia)
Summary: Hikaru would turn the pages again if Sai would just come back. Prompt was from therhoda, "take a character and well have them find something."
~

It had been a while since Hikaru had cleaned under his bed, so the profusion of Go Weekly he found under there wasn’t really a surprise.

What was a surprise was when he realised that they were the issues that included the kifu of Touya Meijin’s that Sai had spent ages poring over. Hikaru remembered getting irritated with him because Sai hadn’t been able to turn the pages, and he’d kept bugging Hikaru to do it. He’d whined the whole time he’d been turning pages.

Really, turning pages would have been a small price to pay to keep Sai around.

For oceanica!

2008-09-15T01:51:19Z

Icons! For oceanica! Enjoy! <3

Art credit goes to shi_chan06.

[02] Naruto icons

AND

[origific] Protocol (non-canon, first incarnation)

2008-04-08T04:53:47Z

Title: Protocol
Author: caitlin_chan with input, help, and ideas from she_universe
Genre: gen, drama
Wordcount: 4327
Rating: PG-14
Warning: Language, mostly. Lots. Sam has a potty mouth~ Also, several mentions of whores
Notes: this is the first (and incomplete) incarnation of what she_universe and I have dubbed the Protocol Universe, or Proverse. The final version of this fic, and all other associated fics will eventually be posted at the comm, proverse (because it's this big collaboration project we've decided to do, haha). In which Sam and Derek eventually end up together. XD BTW, there's nothing up at proverse right now, so... well, if you want to look at the new layout, go ahead, but that's all there is. XD

Sam puts down his empty glass and slides it across the bar to the bartender, shaking his head when asked if he wants a refill. He pats his pocket to make sure he hasn’t lost his damnable tie and leaves enough cash on the bar to pay for his drinks, and a tip. There’s a line-up out the doors to get into the Marquee tonight, so Sam decides to leave out the door in the basement and heads down the stairs.

The basement area has been almost entirely closed off but for the washrooms and a door that’s technically employees only. Nobody is down there to see Sam use it, though, so he isn’t worried. He makes sure his wallet is tucked securely into his pocket and then crosses the room and pushes the door open. Or rather, he tries to, but the door only bounces a little on its hinges. Sam can easily make it bounce off of the bricks even when drunk, so he kicks the door a few times and tries again, but it still won’t open.

“Oi!” he calls through the door, pounding it once with a fist. “Get your arse away from this door before I kick it open and grind you into the alley wall!”

There’s a muffled thump from low down, and Sam tries the door again; it opens easily, and he steps out into the alleyway. He can still hear the music from upstairs, but the air is crisp and cold and smells of the sea and snow, though it’s almost April, and he takes a deep breath.

Turning at a noise behind him, Sam comes chin-to-forehead with some kid he’s never seen before glaring at him. Well, not that much of a kid, but he’s probably nineteen at best, and a short nineteen at that. The brat takes a half a step back and then sets his jaw and straightens up. Sam raises an eyebrow. The kid looks thoroughly ravished, his hair mussed and fancy shirt wrinkled, though his tight pants are done up and his belt is buckled, so he gets some credit in Sam’s mental tally for that.

“Was that you pounding on the door?” the brat asks, one hand rubbing lightly at his neck, where a few darks marks are visible.

Sam clenches a fist at the lazy smile and self-satisfied expression, his hand practically itching to punch the kid good and hard.

So he does.

He feels vindicated for all of half a minute, as the brat holds a hand to his likely-smarting cheek, glaring up at him because Sam has a good six inches on the kid. Then the fucking brat punches him back, sinking a fist in Sam’s gut with a superior smirk. Sam’s breath hisses out through his teeth and he steps back, clutching his stomach. The kid can’t aim worth shit, but it still hurts like hell.

“What was that for, you asswipe?” the brat demands, rubbing his cheek.

“Are you some kind of half-wit?!” Sam resists the urge to throttle him. “Hanging out back here all alone?”

Squaring his shoulders, the brat attempts to look down his nose while having to look up to meet Sam’s gaze. “It’s none of your business, and what’s it to you anyway?”

Sam runs a hand through his hair. “I’m just trying to knock some sense into you. For Chrissakes, you practically scream ‘jump me!’” Sam adds with a snort, and then he drops quickly to the ground and sweeps the kid’s feet out from under him. “Do yourself a favour and go the hell home, and don’t punch strangers who’re bigger than you.”

Sam turns and leaves the alleyway, heading home to his apartment on Harvard Street. Stupid fucking kid... He jams his hands into his pockets and tries to find something else to think about other than the kid he’s probably going to end up seeing in the Herald as a swarming victim.

His long legs and loping stride have Sam home inside of half an hour, and he waves at the old widow across the street that took it upon herself to half-adopt him when he moved in. She’s watering her plants in the front window and she waves back cheerily.

Sam lets himself in to his main floor apartment and puts on some water to boil for a quick cup of tea on his way to wash up and change for bed. Just one more workday, and then it’ll be the weekend. He turns on his bedroom light, all he needs to move easily about his apartment. He’ll have to remember to get some groceries and call his mum, and—the ringing of the phone interrupts his thoughts, and he goes back to the kitchen to pick up the cordless phone from the charger.

“Hello?”

“Sam, hi, it’s Emily from across the road.”

Sam frowns. “Is everything all right, Mrs. P.?”

“Oh, I’m fine, hun, but I was just heading to bed and noticed you have a whore on your deck.”

“A who—wait, what?”

“A young man in very tight pants. He certainly looks like a whore, wearing pants like that.”

Sam thumps his head against the wall he’s leaning on and tries very hard not to swear aloud.

“He didn’t knock loud enough for me to hear him, I guess. And don’t worry, I don’t know any whores.” Sam doesn’t think he knows any whores, anyway, and the brat seemed far to naïve to be one, unless he’s just that new to the profession. “Thanks for telling me.”

“You’re welcome, Sam. You get yourself to bed soon, now.”

“I will. Night, Mrs. P.”

“Good night, hun.”

Hanging up the phone with a growl, Sam stalks across the kitchen and wrenches his front door open. The brat whips his head around, looking rather like a deer in headlights.

“I told you to go home, not follow me home. You aren’t a damn dog, are you?”

“How’d you know I was here? I never knocked.”

“My neighbour called to say I had a whore on my deck.”

The brat flushes and sputters angrily, then tries to push his way into the apartment. Sam blocks him easily.

“Go home!”

Rebuffed and shifting slightly from foot to foot, the kid looks away. “I can’t.”

“Why the hell not?”

He mutters something inaudible, and Sam frowns.

“What?”

“My wallet and cell phone got stolen.”

“Let me guess—the chick you were necking lifted them?”

The kid clears his throat. “Prick, actually.”

Sam sighs heavily. “You’re one dumb shit, you know that?”

“How was I supposed to know he’d take them!” he says petulantly, and Sam tries not to punch him. Again.

Glancing across the street, Sam can see Mrs. P. watching him—probably making sure this person at his door isn’t going to jump him or something—so he steps back and waves his arm. “Fine, come in and you can use my phone.”

The kid steps quickly into the apartment, chafing at his arms a little, and Sam grabs his shoulder; it’s cool under his hand.

“Shoes off here,” he commands, and then points to his kitchen table. “Have a seat.”

The kettle is whistling by this point, so Sam steps over and turns off the burner. The kid sits down, his shoulders hunched and his arms tightly crossed—unsurprising, considering the cold March night and his state of dress. He didn’t have a jacket on in the alleyway, either.

“Hey, kid—”

“Derek. Not ‘kid,’” he says with a shiver.

“Derek. I’m Sam. Tea?”

“What?” Derek furrows his brow, and Sam holds up the kettle.

“D’you want some tea?”

“…Uh, sure.”

Sam gets a second mug from the cupboard and drops a teabag in each, adding the water. “The phone is on the wall, so call your folks so you can get outta my hair.”

“I can’t.”

“What?”

“I don’t know their number. It was on my cell phone.”

Plunking a mug down on the table in front of Derek, Sam groans again. “You don’t know your parents’—your own phone number.”

“I’ve never had to dial it from memory, so why would I bother to remember it?”

“I’ve got no words for you, kid,” Sam says, then downs half his tea in one go, wincing only slightly at the heat.

“It’s Derek.”

“Well, look them up in the phone book then, kid.”

“We’re probably unlisted.” The kid—Derek—wraps his hands around the mug, his shoulders drooping slightly, and takes a slow pull of his tea.

“Jesus H. Christ. You’re unbelievable. Are you even legal?”

“I’m nineteen,” Derek shoots back defensively, taking another sip of tea.

Sam snorts. “When, last week?”

“...Yesterday. Hey, you aren’t that much older than me!”

Sam chokes on his mouthful of tea and coughs a bit to clear his airway. “Jesus. I’m twenty-three, kid, and even when I was nineteen I wasn’t as dense as you.”

Derek scowls at him over his mug as he takes another drink, though the expression seems half-hearted, and then rubs his eyes.

Sam drains the last of his tea with a sigh, and then stands. “Look, you sit here and try to remember your folks’ phone number. I’m getting changed – I have work in the morning.”

He puts his cup in the kitchen sink and then goes to his bedroom. Despite being stuffed in his pocket for several hours, his tie is salvageable without ironing for tomorrow, so Sam tosses is across the top of his dresser. He changes into flannel pants and an old tee, then goes and washes up in the bathroom and returns to the kitchen. He stops short when he sees Derek.

The brat has his head pillowed on his crossed arms; his eyes are closed and to all appearances he is asleep. Sam sighs and shakes his head, and crosses the kitchen and moves the mug from the table to the sink. Derek doesn’t stir at the noise, so Sam gets an extra blanket from his linen closet and drapes it over the kid’s shoulders, and then takes himself off to bed.

Sam wakes to the sun on his face, streaming through the curtains he forgot to close the night before.

Wait, sun?!

Shooting a glance as his alarm clock, he explodes from his bed in a flurry of movement and curses, including telling his alarm to go hell for not waking him. He dresses quickly, then darts into the washroom to brush his teeth and run a comb through his hair as he tightens his tie. Coming out from the bathroom, he sees the brat has moved himself to the chesterfield, and kicks him off as he passes by.

“Shit!”

Good, the brat is awake. Sam shoves some paper into his briefcase and grabs an apple off the counter; if he hurries he can make the next bus before the rush hour ends and will only be half an hour late.

“What the hell was that for, Sam? I was sleeping! I already got woken up once this morning!”

Sam pauses, and his hand tightens on the bottle of Coke he’s in the process of pulling out of the fridge.

“Did you turn off my alarm?”

“It was loud,” Derek snaps, “and I was still tired!”

“For Chrissakes, you stupid shit, I have that alarm set for a reason! I have to work! I’m going to be late thanks to you!”

“Well, have fun.” The brat moves in to the space Sam vacated to poke through the fridge.

“Yeah, sure,” Sam says, then grabs the kid by his shirt collar and pulls him away from the fridge, kicking it closed. “Stay out of my food. Call your parents or someone, I don’t even care any more, then get out of my place. If you steal anything or break anything I will hunt you down. Lock the goddamn door—it locks from the inside, you don’t need a key—and don’t let it hit you on the way out.”

Checking his pockets quickly, Sam confirms the presence of his wallet, cell phone, keys, and bus pass, and then shoves his feet into his shoes and tugs on his jacket. He fires one more glare at the brat for good measure, and then takes off for the bus. The little voice in the back of his mind tells him that this day is going to suck serious balls, and Sam tells it to shut up.

Sam hates it when that little voice is right. He was an hour late even though he got the right bus because of an accident, and his boss reamed him out in front of his whole team, and then things just went downhill from there. He’s beyond glad to be out of there for the weekend.

On the bus heading home—two hours later than usual—Sam sighs and mentally thanks all that is presumably holy for the week finally being over. He tightens his grip on the pole and touches his forehead to the cool, yellow-painted metal for a moment, then pulls back, rocking on his feet with the motion of the bus. Watching out the window for the synagogue, he sees it coming up, though someone else requests the stop before he does.

Sam squeezes through the people to get off the bus and walks the short distance to his apartment in a couple of minutes, dodging teenagers and university students already out for the night, a few of them already well on their way to completely tanked. Fumbling in his pocket for his keys, Sam switches his briefcase to his left hand and gets the door open with a bit more trouble than usual, something he attributes to his mounting headache.

His shoes he leaves at the door, and the jacket is tossed over the back of one of his kitchen chairs. Heading to his room to change, Sam’s jaw drops and for a moment he can’t believe what he’s seeing: books are off their shelves and strewn on the sea chest he uses for a coffee table, the floor, and the chesterfield. If he ever sees that goddamn kid again, Sam is going to garrotte him with a fucking shoelace or something. Sam yanks violently at his tie, then pushes his bedroom door open and pauses. His closet door hangs open, and there are several shirts scattered across the floor.

“Jesus H. Christ. Fucking kid...”

Sam crosses to his closet; from the mess it looks like the kid didn’t find anything to suit his tastes. Just as well. Sam reaches for where his favourite green shirt always hangs, but it isn’t there. He scans the floor: no green shirt. He knows it was in his closet this morning, because he remembers seeing it. Straw, meet camel’s back.

“That fucking brat!”

Snarling, Sam strips out of his work clothes and pulls on a pair of jeans and a blue cable knit sweater his mum made him for Christmas. He hangs up the clothes the brat left on his floor; spitting every curse he knows the entire time, then goes back into the living room and surveys the mess. Fuck this shit, he’ll deal with it after he gets something to eat and takes his pills. In the kitchen, Sam opens and closes cupboards as he looks at what he has to cook; he needs groceries, but he has some spaghetti, so he take sit out and fills a pot with water. There should be some sauce in the freezer—Sam turns as his apartment door opens, and Derek walks in.

Wearing his shirt.

“This area is really dull when I don’t have any money to do anything,” the kid comments casually as he comes in and sits down at the kitchen table, putting his shod feet up on one of the other chairs.

Sam gapes at him for a moment, then slams the package of spaghetti down on the counter.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing taking my fucking clothes and leaving my apartment a mess?! Get your goddamn>I> feet off my goddamn chair and put your own goddamn clothes back on!” Sam looms over Derek where he sits at the table, his superior height overshadowed by his anger and the volume of his voice.

Derek recoils a little and reflexively pulls his feet off the chair. “I didn’t think it’d be such a big deal, it’s just some clothes—”

“They’re my goddamn clothes—how did you even get those pants to fit you? No, I don’t want to know. Just put your own back on before I deck you again.” Sam stomps away and puts the pot of water on to boil for the pasta and retrieves the frozen sauce from the freezer.

The brat glares at him, then kicks his shoes into the entryway and goes into the living room and picks his clothes—which Sam hadn’t noticed—up from the floor at the end chesterfield where they were only partially visible unless one was looking at that specific spot. He strips off Sam’s clothes standing half in the kitchen, and Sam groans, rubbing his forehead with one hand.

“Jesus, have you no manners?”

“What, we’re both guys. Are you gay or something?” Derek snipes at him.

“Close; I’m bi.”

“I would have thought you’d enjoy the view then, but if it offends you, you can close your eyes.”

It doesn’t offend me, you fucktard, but you’re changing in my kitchen, Sam wants to snap, but instead says, “Well, you’re not really my type. You’re too young, aside from the fact that you look like a whore.”

“Whatever.” Derek pulls his shirt on, but doesn’t bother to button it up. “How long until the food is ready?”

“It’s my supper, not yours!”

“Come on, I haven’t eaten all day. I stayed out of your food this morning!”

“Oh, for the love of—fine! If you’ll just shut up, then I’ll feed you, okay?” Sam presses the heels of his hands against his temples. “Can you do that? Just shut up for a while?”

The kid shrugs and sits down on the chesterfield. Of course he wouldn’t offer to help. Why would he? Argh. Sam takes a deep breath and adds the pasta to the now-boiling water and shoves the container of frozen sauce in the microwave to heat it up. He stirs the noodles and watches the sauce and soon enough, supper is ready.

“Kid, food.” Derek gets up off the chesterfield and comes over to the table; Sam points. “Sit and eat. No talking,” he adds before the kid can say anything. “My head hurts to much too listen to you right now.”

Sam grabs his prescription off the top of the fridge, then sits down and starts in on his first real meal of the day. Thankfully, Derek stays quiet the entire time, and Sam is grateful for the silence. By the time he’s done, he feels a little bit less like punching the kid in the face, which is an improvement. Rising from his chair, Sam takes his plate and Derek’s to the sink and then gets him the cordless phone.

“Call someone. Call your family, your friends, I don’t care. Just call someone.”

Derek’s expression turns exaggeratedly sad and lost. “Call someone? Who do I call? Who am I? I must have amnesia or something.”

Sam forces himself to put the phone on the table instead of hitting the brat with it. “Don’t dick around with me, kid.”

“Kid? Is that my name?”

Moving to the sink, Sam turns on the hot water to fill the sink for dishes. “Fucking call someone. I am not dealing with this any more!”

“How do I call someone? Do you know the number I can call?” Derek’s voice is syrupy-sweet forced innocence, and Sam growls low in his throat, then turns on his heel.

“Are you fucking ten?! I don’t care if you want to run away from home or whatever, but you aren’t fucking doing it here!” Sam is shouting now, wet hands gesticulating wildly. “What, have you got some big problem?! A rich, snotty brat like you? Didn’t get everything you wanted from Mummy and Daddy so you run away and don’t call them to try and get them all worried?”

Derek’s face goes blank and his hand clenches around the phone on the table.

“You didn’t get you car? Or your motorcycle? Well let me tell you something, kid! Grow the fuck up!”

Sam turns back to the sink, panting slightly, and turns off the tap. It’s been running hot all this times and he plunges his hands into the burning water. The pain helps him centre himself, and he hears the quiet beeping of the phone being dialled. Lying little shit. Doesn’t know his number, Sam’s rosy red arse.

“Miles?” Derek’s voice is soft and steely. “I need you to pick me up.”

Sam glances over his shoulder as he hears the chair skid on the kitchen floor; the kid is walking over to him, eyes on the floor.

“I’m in Halifax; this man will give you directions,” he says, and then holds out the phone to Sam.

Sam takes it without thinking, and Derek walks out the front door without even putting on his shoes. Shaking his head slightly, Sam puts the phone to his ear.

“Who is this?”

“Could you tell me where Master Frederick is?” asks a tired, older male’s voice, apparently this ‘Miles.’

“Wha – who?”

“Master Frederick; I was just speaking with him.”

“Uh, right... master. Whatever.”

Sam gives the old man directions in a daze, rattling off street names and turns and his civic number automatically, and then hangs up the phone. He puts the cordless on the counter and dries the water from his hands, and crosses the room to open his front door.

Derek is standing on the deck, his shirt still unbuttoned and fluttering in the cold north wind, and leaning on the deck railing. He doesn’t look at Sam when Sam opens the door and clears his throat.

“Kid. Derek.”

Derek cocks his head slightly, just enough that Sam can see he’s listening.

“Derek, get back in here.”

The kid’s gaze flicks in his direction just long enough for Sam to make eye contact.

“I will not have someone who looks like a whore standing out on my deck.”

Derek doesn’t move.

“...Button your shirt and come back inside. It’s cold out.”

Sam turns to go back into the kitchen, pausing to see if Derek is coming; he is, so Sam moves out of the way. Derek comes in and sits back down at the kitchen table, his head bowed and his hands tightly clasped on the table in front of him. He’s shivering.

Sam fills the kettle with cold water and puts it on to boil, then moves across the kitchen to the living room and picks up the blanket that Derek used last night. He drops it nonchalantly on the kid’s head and goes to his cupboard for mugs and teabags. Sam can see Derek looking at him strangely in his peripheral vision as he takes the blanket off his head and wraps it around his shoulders, but forces himself not to meet the brat’s eyes.

Sam stands at the stove, watching the kettle as it heats; watched pots do boil, after all, and this way he can pretend Derek isn’t in the room. Whatever it was Sam said that set the kid off, he doesn’t feel like discussing it. The kettle boils and he adds the water to each mug, concentrating on the mundane task as he pokes the teabags around in the water for a couple of minutes and then fishes them out with a spoon. When he turns with both mugs in hand, Derek is staring at the tabletop again, his brow furrowed slightly. He glances up quickly as Sam puts one of the mugs in front of him, then wraps his hands around it and begins staring into his tea. Sam sits down with his own cup in hand, sipping at it slowly, then takes a deep breath.

“Kid—Derek. I shouldn’t have said all that shit. It’s hard to keep my temper with a migraine, but that doesn’t an excuse what I said. So I just wanted you to know, I’m sorry.”

Derek raises his eyes from his mug, meeting Sam’s gaze, and then looks back down.

Sam grimaces a little. Well, he couldn’t have seriously expected it would be that easy. Nothing else with this kid had been that easy, after all, except getting pissed off. He drinks his tea, watching Derek surreptitiously. He’s still staring at his tea, even though he’s shaking a little under the blanket he put around his shoulders.

Finally, when Sam has nearly finished his tea, Derek takes a drink. It isn’t an acceptance of Sam’s apology, but at least he’s doing something besides sitting there in silence. Drinking the last mouthful of tea, Sam puts his mug in the sink and starts tidying up the mess in his living room. He’s not going to make a snide remark about the mess. He’s not. Sam bites his lip to stifle a sigh and a grumble and moves around in near silence until a knock on his door interrupts the quiet and he goes to answer it.

Sam opens the door to an old man in a dark suit who couldn’t be anyone but Miles, but when he turns to tell the kid, he’s already there putting his shoes on. A word from Derek sends Miles back to the car in the driveway—Sam resists the urge to whistle; it’s a nice car—and he steps past Sam without a word and crosses the deck.

Derek pauses on the top step and shoots a quick glance back over his shoulder and nods at Sam.

“Thanks.”

[fic] Politics

2008-02-20T01:38:24Z

Title: Politics
Fandom: Naruto
Genre: gen, family (?), drama
Rating: PG 13 for strong language and sexual innuendo
Wordcount: 1676
Characters: Temari, Kankurou, Gaara, Okita (Wind Country daimyo, OC)
Summary: Temari's never been a diplomat, but Gaara sends her to the daimyo's council anyway, much to her dismay. But Gaara has his reasons, and they're good ones.

Thanks to tonko_ni for help, and to oceanica for help and giving me the inspiration and the idea for the final scene in this thread. :D

Diplomacy had never been one of her strong points, Temari knew. Having trained since childhood for the male-dominated job of ninja, she had learnt at a young age to be as blunt and brash as her male peers, and nothing at all like the civilian girls in the public school. Sunagakure had never had enough kunoichi candidates to have the sex-specific classes in seduction and the like that Konohagakure had. She would have learnt some measure of diplomacy had those classes been offered.

This in mind, she wasn’t sure what Gaara had been thinking when he had sent her to the capital for the council with the lord of the country.

“You’ll be representing Suna at the daimyo’s council this year, Temari,” he’d said after accepting her most recent mission report. “You leave in two days for the capital.”

“What? Send Kankurou, not me, this is his thing – he’s better at the manipulating-people schtick than both of us, you know that,” she had protested.

“I need Kankurou here.”

“Oh... all right, all right. But I hate going to the capital.”

“I’m aware of that.”

She’d sighed. “It’s a good thing I love you, little brother.”

“Indeed.” The corner of Gaara’s mouth had twitched upwards, ever so slightly, and Temari hadn’t been able to suppress a smile of her own.

Now, kneeling at a low table and dressed in a stiff, formal kimono that she hated for how it restricted her movement, it was all she could to do to keep the polite, blank smile on her face as she dealt with the lord.

“Okita-sama, I don’t think you quite understand what I’m saying here. My village cannot sustain itself on the current budget even with more commissions from the capital.” Temari made a conscious effort to ease her grip on the fan in her hand before the wood could crack. The small fan was the closest she could come to bringing any sort of weaponry into the council chambers, and she didn’t want to break it on the first day. She’d feel even more naked without it.

Okita, a rather large and rotund man with a perpetually red face, accepted a sheet of paper from one of his advisers and skimmed it with calculating eyes. “I see that Suna is behind on its taxes, Temari-san.” His sneering emphasis on the honorific left her trying not to curl her lip, even as he continued to speak. “If your village were to pay what is owed, I could perhaps consider increasing your budget...”

“Without commissions—the commissions you keep sending to Konoha—we have no way of acquiring the capital to pay these taxes.”

“Surely you could take a loan out from another village—perhaps even Konoha. They are your allies, after all, my girl,” he said, condescension clear in his tone.

Temari resisted the urge to repeatedly hit her head on the council room table as everything went downhill from there.

Dear Gaara,

Okita is reluctant to increase our budget, as expected, and even though we met for hours today, nothing really got accomplished. He wants us to pay the back taxes we owe, but doesn’t want to give us more missions to facilitate it. He thinks we can just get a loan from Konoha or something, and doesn’t listen when I tell him it isn’t that easy. We’re shinobi: we kill people, we don’t pull money out of our asses.

He’s a moron, and his advisors are just as dense.

Oh, by the way, fuck you with something hard and sandpaper-y for making me do this.

Love,

Temari

The second day of the budget discussions didn’t go much better than the first, much to Temari’s dismay.

“Temari-san, I can’t see why we should send our business to your village instead of to Konoha. Frankly, it’s cheaper to send our commissions to them. However, if the Kazekage were to begin charging the same as or less than Konoha for equivalent work, I’m sure I would be able to send more commissions to Suna.”

“We charge more because we get less business, and need to make up the deficit. The economy of our village has an effect on the country’s economy as a whole – especially considering that Suna is the most heavily taxed city in the country,” Temari said earnestly, fingers tightening on the small fan. She wanted her fan.

“The port cities have much higher taxes than your village, my dear, so I don’t know what point you think you’re making.” Okita waved a hand dismissively.

Temari hissed quietly through her clenched teeth. “The port cities have a tourist industry and a high transient population – something Suna lacks entirely due to the very nature of its existence as what is essentially a military base – and higher populations. Per capita, Suna is the most heavily taxed city in this country.”

“Now, now,” Okita said, hands raised in a placating gesture, “there’s no need to get upset, sweetheart—”

“Okita-sama,” Temari interrupted, “let me explain this in very simple terms. We, as a village, need money to support ourselves because we have no agriculture and no way to provide for ourselves due to our location. We are part of this country’s military force. If you do not want to increase our funding, that’s fine, but don’t expect us to have any personnel to spare for support next time the country is attacked if we have to send out everyone available on missions for the income required to keep our village alive.”

Okita paled slightly, then cleared his throat and regained his composure. “Your village leader wouldn’t be so foolish as to ignore a request for back-up from his lord, I should hope. Suna is loyal to me.”

Temari stood abruptly, slamming her hands down on the table as she did so. “Suna is loyal to its Kazekage, my brother, not you, Okita-sama."

~~Tem~~ Dear Temari,

How are you? I hope this letter finds you ~~mission ready~~ well. It is hot and dry here, as usual, and we are expecting a sandstorm in the next day or two. I have been ~~guarding~~ taking care of your plants; the spider plant was approximately one-third drier than the recommended soil dampness, so I added fifteen millilitres of water to achieve the recommended levels.

Okita is a ~~civilian~~ stubborn man, but I know that you will be able to convince him that your statements are accurate, and that the village does need this budget increase to keep functioning at optimum efficiency. I have confidence in you.

~~Gaa~~ Your brother,

Gaara

Hey Temari,

Gaara’s been reading all those old etiquette books again; he’s trying to figure out how to be less socially retarded, I guess. I told him to just write like he was talking to you, but somehow I don’t think he did, not with the amount of time he spent writing that little note. What’d we do to deserve a weird little brother like him, anyways?

I’m joking, I’m joking. Please don’t hurt me when you get back.

At any rate, Okita’s an elitist bastard, and an idiot, but I bet you figured that out already. I’ve never had any luck with him – he’d pretend like he was listening to me, then just turn around and send me off with the same budget as before. I hope you have better luck than I did, sis.

Love ya,

Kankurou

“Doesn’t the Kazekage usually send his brother, Kankurou-san, as his representative to this council?” Okita asked as they returned from their lunch break on the third day of negotiations, Temari’s fourth day in the capital.

Temari blinked, taken aback, and then nodded. “Yes, my brother Kankurou is usually the one sent, but Gaa–” she paused and corrected herself, “Kazekage-sama had another task for him, so he sent me instead.”

“That’s unfortunate.”

Temari gritted her teeth and made her tone as syrupy-sweet as she could manage with her growing irritation. “I realise you’re more used to discussing this with Kankurou, Okita-sama, but it really couldn’t be avoided. I’m sorry if this has caused you some sort of inconvenience—”

“It’d just be nice to have someone who knows what they’re talking about,” he interrupted.

“...Pardon?”

“You’re a girl,” Okita said, as if he was explaining something very obvious to a very small child.

“I am,” Temari bit out sharply, her hand tightening on her fan, “a jounin of Sunagakure; you would do well to remember that. My sex has nothing to do with these discussions.”

Okita shook his head. “Not so. Everyone knows that females have no place in discussions of finances. I’m quite certain that the ‘skills’ that got you your rank have nothing to do with actual prowess as a warrior,” he added with derision. “It’s hardly worth my time to talk to a slip of a girl like you about such matters as these.”

Temari twitched, and the wood of the fan in her grasp splintered.

“Hey, Gaara, what’s that?” Kankurou asked as he entered his brother’s office.

Gaara sat at his desk, a faintly amused expression on his face as he read over the papers in his hands.

“It’s Temari’s last missive before she comes home.”

“Oh yeah?” Kankurou crossed the room to peer over Gaara’s shoulder. “How’d things go?”

“She got the village the budget increase we’ve been after.”

“How’d she manage that? Even I couldn’t get that oaf to agree with me when I went the last couple years.”

“I know,” Gaara replied as he pulled something out of the small stack of papers and handed it to Kankurou.

It was a photo of what had been a beautiful, opulent mansion, but was now severely damaged, and the front garden had been ripped to shreds. The attached headline read “Freak Windstorm Damages Daimyo’s Home, Cause Unknown.” At the bottom of the clipping, in a surprisingly big space unmarred by newspaper ink, there was something written in Temari’s distinctive scrawl.

Dear Gaara,
Bastard totally deserved it. You ever send me here again, I’ll kill you.
Or something.
Love,

Temari

Vampirates! icons and LJ moodtheme

2008-02-11T21:29:09Z

All art is from the fabulously awesome webcomic, Vampirates!, by helltown. I shrunk/cropped/removed speech bubbles and stuff like that.

Enjoy~!

[02] Vampirates! icons
[01] Vampirates! base
[01] Vampirates! custom LJ moodtheme

Icons! Base!

...Y'all are probably really here for the moodtheme. Here's a preview~!

Full preview HERE.

And HERE you can download the full ZIP file. Please credit caitlin_chan or inkntendinitis. ^_^ Also, comments if you download would be appreciated, but I'm not going to freak if you don't.

It's teeny weeny, so I didn't want to put it on something like MegaUpload, but I can't get to my school webspace from my dorm because it's stupid and messed up. If MegaUpload doesn't work for anyone, let me know and I'll upload it somewhere else.

Expect more icons at a later date, once my brain is no longer mush from class.

[fic] NaNo07 novel, currently untitled (5/?) (v1.0)

2007-12-08T02:21:28Z

Fandom: Naruto
Genre: AU, gen, friendship, sports (?)
Rating: PG13 for language
Wordcount: 3842 for this chapter
Notes: Yes, another chapter today. atom0001, this is for you and your patience with me and my consistent delays. XD

Previous parts:
Game One
Game Two
Game Three
Game Four

Game Five

It was last period on Monday, and Naruto had PAL/CaLM in the gym – it was one of the PAL days – so he decided to grill Sakura about what she’d discovered as far as the girls’ hockey team went while they were stretching for a warm-up. Mitarashi may have been a psycho, but she was a psycho who knew that a good stretch was important, thankfully, or Naruto was sure that his class would have ended up with a lot of pulled muscles, since most of them didn’t seem to know the difference between or the importance of a warm-up and a cool-down.

Pushing on Sakura’s shoulders as she tried to touch her head to the floor between her spread legs, Naruto resisted the urge to tickle her silly – that would end up with the both of them in a lot of pain, he figured: himself for doing it to her and her for trying to get away from him while practically doing the splits.

“Hey, Sakura, how did finding out about the girls’ hockey team go? Do you know who the coach is?” Naruto asked quietly, trying not to attract Ms. Mitarashi’s attention or disturb anyone else.

“There wasn’t much to find out, unfortunately. There isn’t a coach yet; Principal Tsunade used to do it, but the school board doesn’t want her to any more – apparently the only reason they have a coach for the guys’ team is because when they hired Coach Maito he was very enthusiastic about taking on some of the school teams, but they have to have at least one female coach for the female sports teams, according to some law or rule or dickhead on the board or something.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, but I guess it makes sense. If someone gets hurt, a lot of people would be uncomfortable with having a male coach do first aid or taking a look at it, even, especially if it’s somewhere like their ribs or something.”

“Huh, I guess so. I’d never really thought of it that way, before,” Naruto mused, pushing a little harder on the teacher’s count, until Sakura hissed slightly.

“Well, you don’t exactly have to worry about anyone seeing your chest or anything, do you? Guys won’t get in trouble for indecent exposure if they whip their shirts off, at least not most places or most times.”

Sakura sat up slowly as Ms. Mitarashi called for them to switch places, and Naruto sat down on the floor and stretched his legs out as far as they would go. Sakura stood up and moved behind him and put her hands on his shoulders and pushed down.

“So, do you think they’re going to find a coach for you guys?” Naruto’s voice was slightly muffled by the fact that he had his face only a few centimetres from the floor – he was more flexible at the waist than Sakura, though he couldn’t stretch his legs apart as far.

“Well, I sure hope so. I want to play, damn it, and I’ll be pissed if they can’t find a coach.”

“A coach for what, Miss Haruno?” Asked a voice from behind them, and Sakura eeped. She hadn’t realised that Ms. Mitarashi had come up behind them while they were talking.

“A coach for the girls’ hockey team,” Naruto piped up before Sakura said anything.

Ms. Mitarashi got a contemplative look on her face. “There’s no coach, huh? Old Tsunade can’t do it any more?”

“The school board won’t let her, actually,” Sakura put in.

“She must be pissed about that. Anyway, you two need to stop talking.”

“Yes ma’am, “ Naruto and Sakura replied in unison.

“In fact,” Ms. Mitarashi added ominously, and then shouted, “YOU ALL NEED TO STOP TALKING!”

The class quailed, and silence fell over them like rocks on their heads.

“All right, punishment push-ups! Everyone down on the floor in the push-up position!”

“Yes, ma’am," the class chorused as they got down on the floor.

One of the guys raised his hand, the wrist of which was in a cast, but never got a chance to speak before Ms. Mitarashi barked at him.

“Yes, Aberman, I know you can’t do push-ups. Do sit-ups instead!”

“Yes, ma’am.”

********************************************************************

Wednesday came much faster than Naruto had thought it would. He’d spent the days since Coach Maito had given him the tryouts date alternately feeling like the tryouts were never going to come, and that they were going to come too fast. He’d even dreamt about sleeping through them, though there was no way that that would have happened. No way, no how was Naruto going to miss the hockey tryouts.

Naruto arrived at the rink a good half an hour before tryouts were scheduled to start on Wednesday. He hadn’t been to that rink before because it wasn’t the one nearest his apartment, so he’d wanted to make sure he’d be more than on time. He went in and hovered around the entrance and watched the people on the ice while he waited for some of his friends to show up. Sasuke was the first to show, and he joined Naruto in watching one of the city's Bantam teams practising for a few minutes before he jerked his head towards one side of the rink.

“Come on, changing rooms are that way. We’re in number six, and we should probably gear up before the Zamboni clears the ice. These guys are almost done.”

Naruto nodded and grinned anticipatorily. “Yeah! Oh man, I’m so excited, I can’t wait for us all to get on the team together! That’ll be awesome!”

Sasuke snorted. “We may not all make it, dumb ass.”

“No way! We totally will! We made a promise: together or not at all,” Naruto reminded him, hands waving excitedly, as they walked around the outside of the boards and the bleachers to get to the changing rooms. “And I’m not a dumb ass, bastard!”

Sasuke caught one flailing hand inches from his face and raised an eyebrow at Naruto, who grinned, unrepentant.

“We’re right here,” Sasuke said, gesturing towards a door marked with a number six, black permanent marker on chipped light blue paint.

He pushed the door open, Naruto following behind, and went in. There wasn’t anyone else there yet, so the pair claimed the end of the bench closest to the showers and plopped their gear down. They started getting changed, Naruto chattering rapidly at Sasuke, who nodded every so often – he was actually paying attention to his loquacious blond friend, even if it didn’t really look like it.

Before they had finished getting into their gear, the door opened to admit a bunch of other people. Among them were Chouji, Kiba, Shikamaru, and Shino, who all came over to snag the section of bench next to their friends, and a few people that Naruto and Sasuke had seen in their classes though neither really knew any of them all that well. The noise level in the room got progressively higher as more people entered and chatted as they changed.

Finally, everyone in the room had their gear on, but before anyone could ask just what the hell they were supposed to do now that they were dressed, the door swung open and Coach Maito came in, dressed in green as usual, and talking very loudly and enthusiastically, also as usual.

“What a wonderful turn out here for these tryouts! Such youthful, eager faces! Come! To the ice to get the tryouts started. Try your best, everyone!”

With these words, Coach Maito pulled the door open and stood there looking excruciatingly happy and he waved them all out the door. Sasuke was muttering something under his breath, probably cursing at Kakashi again, and Naruto snickered, earning himself a venomous glare.

The group of prospective team members tromped out of the changing room and down the hall a little bit until they found the gap in the bleachers that lead to the players’ bench and then everyone was finding places for water bottles in the box and muddling about without really being sure what they should be doing. Naruto and Sasuke both moved out onto the ice next to the box to give the others a little bit more space to move in, and Sasuke started counting, wondering how many people were there for the tryouts.

Besides himself and Naruto and the rest of their friends, who all together numbered six, there was a total of twenty people there for tryouts in a various assortment of jerseys, some of professional teams and some obviously from other amateur teams. Sasuke wasn’t sure how many positions were open, but he had to admit to himself that he hoped for enough for all of them to get on the team. Naruto was right; they had made a promise. Looking around, Sasuke realised that the other players’ bench was full of people wearing green and brown jerseys. They must be the returning members of the school team.

There were eleven returning players, including one goalie; the Captain’s “C” was on the chest of the guy sitting closest to them, his long brown hair tied tightly back and a calculating look on his face. Sitting next to him and bearing the "A" of the Alternate Captain was a boy with his black hair in the same unflattering bowl cut as Coach Gai’s and a smile on his face; he was talking into the ear of the Captain who was nodding every once in a while, apparently agreeing with whatever the Alternate Captain was saying and occasionally saying something back.

The rest of the team already had their helmets on, making it difficult to see their faces, but the goalie was a big guy, and Sasuke wondered if Shikamaru’s relatively smaller size would be considered a handicap to him. The entire team was looking at them, Sasuke thought; though it was harder to tell if the helmeted members were, he thought they were. Probably sizing them up and trying to figure out their potential as teammates.

Gai came up behind them, calling loudly for those trying out to get onto the ice and warm up a little with a few laps around the rink. Naruto flashed Sasuke a grin and then skated away, completely at home on his skates, and though Sasuke could see he was a little awkward with all the gear, he didn’t think anyone but their friends and possibly the coach or the captains would notice, since no one knew how Naruto skated or played.

Naruto grinned under his helmet at the feeling of the air rushing past his face as he skated around the rink.

It felt great, even though he was a little bit off balance with all the equipment on; he’d never skated in hockey gear before, so he hoped it wouldn’t affect his abilities too much. He’d have to get use to it, though, since he’d be skating in it a lot more with any luck at all. He knew he was good, but he wasn’t sure how good anyone else was, or how many spots on the team were open. Looking at the school jersey-wearing players in the other players’ box, though, he noted that there were only eleven of them there, including the goalie. That meant there would be at best eight spots open for regular players and one for another goalie, depending on how many players total Coach Maito would want to run the team with. The NHL allowed eighteen players and two goalies, but, Naruto knew, the International Ice Hockey Federation allowed teams to have twenty players and two goalies. He had no idea which guidelines the provincial school sports association followed.

Turning his attention back to Coach Maito, Naruto turned and began skating backwards in response to the shouted instructions, watching over his shoulder to make sure he didn’t bang into anyone. When he skated past the occupied players’ bench he noticed the narrowed eyes of the team captain following him, his gaze on Naruto's jersey and gear, and his lip curled slightly into a sneer. Naruto frowned under his helmet and took a second to glance down at himself.

The scruffy old Habs jersey of Shino’s brother covered equally used shoulder pads, and though he couldn’t see his legs very well, he knew that that part of him was just as obviously wearing well-used equipment. His stick was equally battered, with the painted name of the company nearly worn off from use. A mental shake of his head and a sigh, and then he set his shoulders and pushed his legs harder. It shouldn’t matter that he looked scruffy at tryouts as long as he played well, though Coach Maito didn’t seem to care what anyone was wearing, looking at them all the same way. Naruto would just have to show that snobby captain that the look of his equipment didn’t matter.

Coach Maito called at them to stop, and waved them all over to the centre of the ice.

“You,” he said, pointing at Shikamaru, wearing his bulky goalie pads, “can go and take the net, and I’ll have everyone take shots on you.”

The group nodded in unison; that made sense, in Naruto's opinion. It would allow the coach to judge Shikamaru’s abilities while seeing how everyone else was at some basic stickhandling and taking shots on goal.

The sounds of skates hitting ice from behind them drew Naruto’s attention back to the occupied players’ box. The team was coming out onto the ice, the Captain and Alternate Captain, their helmets now on and the Captain’s tied-back hair trailing out from under his. They were each holding a blue milk crate full of pucks, which they set down with a loud thunk just next to Coach Maito as the people trying out moved aside to let them through so that they could put the undoubtedly heavy crates of vulcanized rubber down.

Shikamaru skated down to the goalie crease while Coach Maito lined everyone up to take their shots on goal – potential team members in front, with the returning players behind them. This, Naruto assumed, was because it gave the returning players an opportunity to evaluate the people who could and would be ending up on the team with them. He wondered if the opinions of the returning members would be taken into account when Coach Maito made the selections. He wasn't sure if he wanted them to count or not.

Standing in line in front of Sasuke, Naruto shifted nervously on his skates, watching those ahead of him go. Kiba, Shino, and Chouji were all in front of him, and though Naruto knew that they all regularly scored on Shikamaru despite his skill – they’d been playing together so long that things almost always turned out even, or very damn near even – he couldn’t help but be nervous for them. Watching the first guy, someone Naruto didn’t know, skate down the ice, he didn’t realise he was holding his breathe until he let it out in a whoosh when Shikamaru made an easy glove save.

Kiba was next in line, and Naruto grinned as he watched him score – he didn’t think it would too adversely affect Shikamaru’s chances of getting on the team, especially since he was the only goalie trying out. Not to mention the fact that Naruto was fairly sure that he and the others would be the only ones who had anything even remotely resembling an easy time scoring on Shikamaru. Three more guys Naruto didn’t know went and didn’t succeed, and then it was Shino’s turn. Shikamaru managed a stick-save for Shino’s shot, but just barely.

Two more guys that Naruto had seen around but didn’t really know went, one of them nearly managing to score, and the other failing pretty spectacularly – he shot wide and totally missed the net, so Shikamaru had to do nothing at all. Chouji was next, and scored relatively easily. Naruto had a sneaking suspicion that Shikamaru was taking it easy on the other guys trying out because he was feeling lazy, or else he doubted that two of them would have managed to score, but Naruto wouldn’t hold it against him. Much, that is.

Between Chouji and himself, there was a string of four guys that Naruto didn’t know and was pretty sure he had never seen before, but he watched them all anyway, and one very nearly managed to score while one of the others cut it even closer and the last two were fairly easy saves for Shikamaru. As he realised that it was finally his turn, Naruto took a deep breath, and grinned at Shikamaru, though he probably couldn’t see it from the goalie crease.

Skating up to the bin on the centre line, Naruto flicked a puck out with his stick, not even noticing the one already sitting there waiting for him, and charged down the ice. Skates striking the ice and sending familiar shocks up his legs, Naruto triple-deked and shot and – score! He'd just made it past Shikamaru’s stick into the five-hole. Grinning widely under his helmet and ignoring the grumbles from Shikamaru as Naruto circled the net and skated back towards the line of people, he resisted the urge to pump his fist in the air.

He joined the end of the line just in time to see Sasuke take off down the ice, his speed as impressive as it always was, and manage to ricochet the puck off of the right-hand goalpost and into the net, a tricky shot but one of Sasuke’s favourites. That meant that all of them had gone and only Shino hadn’t managed to score on their friend, and had only just barely been blocked. The last four guys trying out took their shots and none managed to score, though one almost did by pure dumb luck, and then it was time for the returning team member to give it their best shots, the goalie included.

Naruto barely breathed the entire time the returning players were shooting, waiting on tenterhooks to see if each one would score or miss and almost relaxing after the one in front of Kiba went until he remembered that there were more people yet to go. Just when Naruto thought that everyone had gone and had breathed a sigh of relief that Shikamaru had only let one goal in, Sasuke nudged him and he realised that the Captain and Alternate Captain had yet to take their turns. They had remained standing off to the side – probably for the better vantage point – while the rest of the returning team members got in line and Naruto had forgotten that they were even there until the Alternate Captain skated up to the bin of pucks and flicked one out, then paused and charged down the ice towards Shikamaru.

Naruto gaped, and he heard some of the others there for tryouts murmuring behind him – this guy’s speed was incredible! He was faster than Sasuke, even, and Sasuke was one of the faster players Naruto had ever met or seen close to their age. He took his shot and – missed by a mile! ...What? Naruto wasn’t sure he could believe what he was seeing – this guy was the Alternate Captain, but he made ass-tastic shots like that? Naruto knew his speed would be a huge asset, but how could it be a big enough asset to justify having someone who shot so poorly on the team? If he shot this badly, how could he be any good at passing? Naruto sighed; he supposed he would find out the deal behind the Alternate Captain when he made the team, and he had to hope that the guy's passes were better than that shot he had just taken, that was for sure.

Naruto drew in a deep breath as the team captain took his place on the line and snagged himself a puck. He skated a loop around the puck and Naruto found himself wishing the guy would just get it over with before the Captain finally snared the puck with his stick and sped down the ice. He was just a hair faster than Sasuke, though not as fast as his Alternate Captain, and Naruto clenched his fist around his stick as he took his shot – and Shikamaru deflected it! Naruto breathed a sigh of relief as he heard people start to mutter amongst themselves, and turning he saw the returning team members with their heads together in deep conversation.

Naruto gave Shikamaru a wave, which he returned half-heartedly, and turned to look at the coach. Coach Maito looked as exuberant as ever, but this time he seemed particularly focussed and somewhat calculating. He was probably already thinking hard about his choices for the spots on the team, and he rested his chin in one green-gloved hand as he waved at Shikamaru to come back to the group.

Naruto took a deep breath and got ready for the next test of skill.

********************************************************************
So, there’s chapter five. I know it's kinda short-ish. No, you won’t get to see all of the rest of the try outs, sorry. XDD There’s only so many different things I’ve been able to come up with, and I have to save some of them for the practices I’m going to be writing eventually. I can’t use up all my good stuff here. :P

Not that it’s really all my good stuff. I’ve been watching a lot of NHL and whatever other hockey is on TV lately, and I downloaded the first two Mighty Ducks movies for further inspiration. XDD So if you’re familiar with those movies, you will undoubtedly see some things that seem awfully familiar.... Since I was never part of a hockey team and only ever played street hockey or watched others play street or on the ice, I’ve got to use common sense and stuff from other places and what I remember seeing at my grade seven and eight boyfriend’s hockey practices. Which isn’t much, to be completely frank, but I do know how to research. I think I’ll go watch some of the Atom or Bantam games over Christmas break to get more ideas – this is a NaNo novel, but there’s no way I’ll wrap up the whole thing in fifty thousand words. Since I’m, y'know, AT fifty thousand now (since November is over), including a scene that hasn't happened yet that wouldn't let me do anything else until I wrote it. And they’ve only just tried out, and I haven’t even hardly touched on the girls, haha. I have a whole hockey season to get through, yet!! Practices, games, tournaments, perhaps an invitational, maybe a regional tournament or two, and maybe, just maybe, provincials. If I feel like being nice enough to let them get to provincials. :D

…Wow, I have a lot more conflict planned than I realised I did. Well, until now, anyway. I like conflict. :D I also like torturing characters. *cackles madly*
********************************************************************

[fic] NaNo07 novel, currently untitled (4/?) (v1.0)

2007-12-07T22:22:40Z

Fandom: Naruto
Genre: AU, gen, friendship, sports (?)
Rating: PG13 for language
Wordcount: 4014 for this chapter

Previous parts:
Game One
Game Two
Game Three

Game Four

The first few weeks of school passed, and everyone gradually got into a routine. Naruto discovered that Principal Tsunade had had a point about learning to juggle his homework schedule and work – it was a little bit awkward at times, and it certainly took some getting used to. But Iruka had given him some advice, and he thought he had it figured out now.

This particular crisp day, Naruto was going to ask around and try and find out when hockey tryouts were going to be. Neither he nor any of his friends had heard a thing, but they had figured that the tryouts would be happening in the near future, because hockey season was going to start soon. A school can’t have a team without tryouts to fill in its missing members, after all.

Naruto took a slightly earlier bus than usual that morning, and arrived with a little bit of time to go and ask around. Figuring that asking Shizune was probably his best bet as a starting point, he stopped at his locker to gather his things for his first class—PAL/CaLM with Ms. Mitarashi, whom he thought was a bit of a nut job—and then headed up to the main office to talk to Shizune. Happily, the main office was nearly empty, but only because everyone wanting course changes had to go to the vice principal’s office a little ways down the hall to do it.

“Morning, Shizune,” Naruto said cheerfully. It had been a little earlier than usual for him as far as mornings went, but he’d been up long enough to get thoroughly awake.

“Good morning Naruto. How are you today?”

Naruto shrugged. “Eh, pretty good. Same old, really.”

“That’s good to hear. So, is this a social visit or is there something that I can help you with?”

“Actually, I was wondering if you know when the hockey team tryouts are going to be and stuff. Me and my friends want to try out for the teams, but we haven’t really heard anything about them yet.”

Shizune tapped her chin thoughtfully for a moment, and then shook her head. “I’m sorry, I don’t know anything about that. I think you would have to talk to the coach – his office is in the gym. It’s the door near the side door that goes outside, actually. He’s probably there right now, if you want to go see him, because he’s in charge of the Phys Ed department, too; he teaches grade eleven and twelve Phys Ed.”

“Okay, thanks. Uh, what’s his name?”

“Oh, it’s Coach Maito. He’s a little... effusive, but don’t let that put you off. He’s really a very nice man, though I haven’t known him long. This is his first year with us.”

“All right, Shizune, thanks a lot. I’ll go talk to him—” the warning bell for first period rang, and Naruto sighed. “At lunch hour, I guess.”

Shizune laughed, and waved at him as Naruto headed out of the office with a wave of his own and a, “Thanks, see you later!”

Crossing the hallway, he thumped down the stairs to the basement and headed toward his PAL/CaLM classroom, which they used on the days they weren’t in the gym and were scheduled to do the CaLM part of the class. The PAL/CaLM room had been a Home economics classroom at one time, until the school had stopped offering Home Economics. It was a large room, with a higher ceiling that every other classroom, because it was how wheelchairs got into the building. There was a ramp built around two walls from the entrance to the basement level, and a sink, a stove, and fridge still in the room from the Home Economics classes that had been offered until a few years ago. The room was used as a prep room for snacks and things for school functions, and the Occupational Preparation Program and the Resource classes used the room sometimes, as well, though for what Naruto wasn’t sure.

Entering the room, he saw that most of his classmates were already there, so he went and sat in his regular seat behind Sakura. Ms. Mitarashi wasn’t there, though she had been at some point earlier, because her bag and her sweets were on the desk. Nobody touched them; the whole class had learned very early on that anyone who touched Mitarashi’s sweets would not be happy with what happened when she found out.

“You’re almost late, Naruto,” Sakura said, a hint of disapproval in her tone, “Where were you?”

“Pfft, it’s not like Mitarashi’s ever on time. I was in the main office talking to Shizune about hockey tryouts. She doesn’t know when they are; she said I have to talk to the coach about it.”

“Oh yeah? Did you ask about the girls’ team?”

“...Shit, I forgot. Sorry, I can go back and ask her later, if you want.”

Sakura snorted. “Don’t be stupid, I’ll go ask her. If you happen to be going back, feel free, but don’t worry about it. I probably wouldn’t have thought to ask abut the boy’s team.”

“Yeah, you would have,” Naruto said with a grin.

“Okay, fine, I would have. But I didn’t really think that you’d think of it. I mean, you don’t have any need to ask about the girls’ team. I’ll go find out at lunch or something.”

Whatever Naruto was about to say caught in his throat when Ms. Mitarashi came through to door at the top of the ramp and zipped down the ramp wearing roller blades. The class gaped, still not really sure what to make of their teacher, and Ms. Mitarashi laughed raucously at the looks on their faces. She sat down in her chair, pulled her roller blades off, and took a pair of shoes out of her bag and put them on.

“Morning, everyone! Today we’re going to start talking about the wonderful world of the resumé!”

The class groaned, and Ms. Mitarashi grinned, a hint of something decidedly unnerving in her expression.

“Aw, don’t be like that, I’m sure you’ll find it... thrilling. I have videos and everything!”

A shudder ran through the room, and the teacher grinned wider.

********************************************************************

Naruto stood outside the gym door, shifting his bag on his shoulder, as he got ready to go in and talk to the hockey coach. When he had mentioned in the period before lunch to Shino that he was going to talk to the coach during the lunch hour, one of his classmates had snickered and offered a slightly mocking “good luck”. It made Naruto wonder just what that guy had known that he didn’t.

Taking a deep breath, he pulled the heavy wooden door opened and walked into the gym. There were some people playing basketball in one end and some others kicking around a soccer ball in the other, so Naruto walked around the outside edge of the gym to keep out of the way as he headed towards the office on the far wall. The door was closed, but the lights looked like they were on, so Naruto took a deep breath and knocked.

The door flew open, and Naruto nearly fell backwards as the office’s occupant practically hit him in the face with the heavy wooden door. Recovering from his near-miss, Naruto looked up at the man who had answered the door and felt his words stick in his throat. The man who had answered the door was a tall man, and clad entirely in green. A green tracksuit, to be precise. His black hair was a strange, unflattering, bowl cut, and the expression on his face seemed to border on rapture.

“Oh! Who is this new, youthful student knocking on my office door? Are you here to inquire about the wonderful department that is Physical Education? Or perhaps you wish to join one of our fine after school activities here in the gym?!”

“U-um, actually,” Naruto stammered, taken aback by the man’s enthusiasm, “I’m looking for Coach Maito?”

“My dear boy, that is who you see before you! How can I assist a fine youth such as yourself?”

Naruto stared for a moment, caught between shock, horror, and resignation—he wondered if this school was a repository for the nut job teachers—and then rushed onward with his question.

“I just wanted to ask about the tryouts for the boys’ hockey team. Like, when are they going to be and where, and is there a cost or anything?”

“How wonderful to have a student so eager to become a part of our fine school hockey team!” Coach Maito clasped his hands to his chest, gazing up at the gym ceiling even though there wasn’t anything interesting up there except stuck basketballs and soccer balls, and one lone balloon that was hanging from a rafter, long ago deflated. Naruto would swear later that he thought he heard the sound of ocean waves crashing on the shore.

“Um, yeah, I’d like to be on the team, so when are tryouts? And what I am expected to have of my own for equipment?”

“I have yet to schedule the tryouts, but I shall now do so posthaste! I had no idea that there were such interested students! I will schedule the tryouts for next week, on Wednesday! I will have to get need to make the arrangements for the rink downtown, but next Wednesday they will be.”

Naruto scratched his cheek, mildly exasperated by the man’s apparently selective hearing. “Okay, next week. What do I need to bring? Skates and my stick, right, and what else?”

“A stick, and your skates, yes, and of course the rest of your gear and a helmet! We must make sure that everyone is kept as safe as possible, and the weight will help your training~!” The coach tapped his chin thoughtfully, but even this he seemed to do at a higher than normal speed.

“Okay, thanks!” Naruto said quickly, and waved at Coach Maito. “I’ve gotta, uh, go and eat my lunch now, so I’ll see you next Wednesday, yeah? Bye!”

Naruto left as quickly as he could, but trying not to look like he was running away from the odd, tracksuit-clad man. He was going to be Naruto’s coach, after all. He would just have to get used to the man’s oddities.

But it would be easiest in small doses: like making oneself immune to poison.

Naruto stopped at his locker to get his lunch—he hadn’t been lying when he’d said he still had to eat—and then went up to the cafeteria to find his friends. With the rain outside, they would be in the caf, probably by the pop machines at their usual table. Gazing over everyone’s heads as he came into the cafeteria, he spotted the guys and made his way through the veritable maze of tables to plop down with a huge, gusty sigh next to Sasuke.

“I hope you like hockey enough to deal with an absolute nut bar of a coach, guys, or else you may want to just not try out.”

“You found out about tryouts?” Chouji asked before popping a fry into his mouth.

“I was just talking to the coach. He said he’d have to schedule them for next Wednesday since he’d had someone so ‘eager to become part of our fine school hockey team’,” Naruto quoted in his best impression of Coach Maito’s voice, “come and ask him about them.”

Sasuke snorted. “That sounds like Kakashi’s moron friend, Gai. He wears these ridiculous green tracksuits—”

“And has a really bad bowl cut?” Naruto asked in a somewhat higher- than- usual voice.

“...Yes. I didn’t think you’d ever met him; he’s not by the house much.”

“I think I just did,” Naruto replied faintly. “Is his last name ‘Maito’?”

There was dead silence among their group for a moment.

“Oh, fuck no," Sasuke muttered. "Kakashi said Gai’d got a new job this year at one of the schools in this district, but I never thought... he never told me, the bastard.”

Naruto laughed nervously. “Well, now you know?”

Sasuke glared at him. “When I told Kakashi I was going to try out for the hockey team, he never said a word, just nodded. The bastard. I’m going to kill him.”

“This guy can’t be that bad,” Shikamaru said, his tone bored. “I think you’re over-reacting.”

“Say that again once you’ve met him,” Sasuke said dryly, and Naruto nodded in agreement, taking a bite out of his sandwich.

“Well, whatever,” Kiba interrupted the flow of conversation. “Did he say what we need to bring with us to tryouts?”

Naruto swallowed his mouthful of bread and peanut butter and banana. “Yeah; skates and sticks, no duh, and all our pads and helmets, too. I dunno about facemasks or visors or whatever on our helmets, though; he didn't say anything about them.”

“I believe there is legislation requiring the use of facemasks for anyone playing below the professional level.” Shino said, his first words since Naruto had sat down.

Naruto shrugged and took another bite of sandwich. “If you say so,” he replied around his mouthful of food. “So, where are the girls, anyway?”

Kiba shrugged. “Hinata said that they were going to find out about the girls’ hockey team, but I don’t know what’s taking them so long. Maybe they had to go hunt someone down or something.”

Nodding, Naruto chewed and swallowed the last couple of bites of his lunch and then got up. “Hey, uh, Shino, can we go to the library and, uh, look at that English thing we have to do for next week before class?”

“Certainly,” Shino stowed his book in his backpack and got to his feet, nodding to the rest of the group.

“See you guys later!” Naruto said with a wave, and he and Shino walked out of the cafeteria together.

“You wish to talk to me about something that you preferred not to mention in front of the rest. Correct, Naruto?” Shino asked him as they moved through the halls.

“Um, yeah, but how did you know that?”

“You speak more haltingly when you are nervous, and you aren’t a very good liar.”

“Oh. Um, do you think the others noticed?”

Shino reached up and pushed his glasses up his nose with one finger. “I would imagine that Shikamaru and Sasuke both noticed, though I doubt Kiba or Chouji did.”

“Ah. Well, shit...”

“Perhaps we should begin our discussion before we are out of time?”

“Uh, right. Well, I don’t have any hockey pads or a helmet, and I don’t... I can’t afford to buy them right now, especially not new. But don’t tell Sasuke, please. I don’t want him to know.”

“You have spoken to me in confidence, and I would not betray that trust.”

Naruto sighed in relief. “Yeah, right. Thanks, Shino.”

“Somehow, I doubt the point of this conversation was for you to confess your financial difficulties to me.”

“You’re right, it wasn’t. I was wondering... I know your brother played hockey, too, right? I was wondering if you’ve still got any of his old equipment at your place, and if you did, well, would I be able to borrow it?” Naruto rubbed his cheek self consciously, and then added, “Just until I’m able to get my own stuff!”

Shino’s expression hardly changed, merely a slightly raised eyebrow indicating his surprise that Naruto was willingly asking for help in such a matter; it showed just how much he wanted to play, and how much he had grown over the years. There had been a time in the fairly recent past when such a request would never have passed Naruto’s lips.

Shino nodded. “I believe that we still have some of his equipment at our house in storage somewhere. I will inquire with my parents when I return home this afternoon, and then let you know the results of my inquiry. I am almost certain, however, that we did retain his old equipment as back-up or temporary replacement gear.”

Naruto grinned and rubbed the back of his head. “Thanks, man. I really appreciate it. I hope it’s okay with your parents; I’ve never been sure if they, y’know, like me or not.”

Shino almost smiled at that; as it was, the corner of his lip twitched slightly. “My parents think you to be fairly responsible considering your age, if perhaps too impulsive at times. They certainly think better of you than Sakura’s parents, and my mother is quite fond of you.”

“Ha ha, well, that answers that question. Tell them I said thanks for looking and stuff, even if you end up not being able to find it, okay?”

“I will.”

Naruto pulled the library door open and waved Shino in ahead of him and received a nod in return.

“Thanks! Now, let’s get to that English thing. I wasn’t totally making it up when I said I wanted to ask you about it.”

********************************************************************

That evening, Naruto’s phone rang and startled him out of the reading assignment he was doing for his Ancient History class, and he nearly fell off the couch as he scrambled up to answer the phone.

“Hello? Oh, hi, Shino. …No way, you’ve still got it? That’s awesome! Are you sure your parents don’t mind me borrowing it? Aw, tell them ‘thank you’ for me. No, I dunno if it’s going to fit very well, but it’ll be better than nothing and should hold me over until I can get my own gear. I’ll just have to make do.” Naruto paused, his grin changing to a look of surprise. “They don’t have to bring it over now! I can come and get it another day and haul it home on the bus!” He paused again, and the sighed a resigned sigh. “Well, if they’ve already put it in the car and you guys are about to leave, there isn’t much I can do about that. Yeah, I’ll see you in a little bit.”

Naruto hung the phone up and let his head thump against the wall. “They don’t have to go to so much trouble just for me!”

He sighed again, and then took a quick look around his kitchen. It wasn’t too much of a mess; there were only that evening’s supper dishes in his sink, so he wasn’t too worried about coming across to Shino’s parents as a slob. He’d only met them a few times – unlike Kiba’s place, Shino’s wasn’t really within a reasonable walking distance, and everyone always felt like they were intruding when they visited the Aburame household. Shino’s parents were entomologists, and they always had a number of bugs at their house, and sometimes experiments and things going, so it was just easier to go somewhere like Kiba’s, or Sasuke’s. But they really hadn’t had to go to the trouble of bringing the gear over to Naruto’s.

Returning to the living room, Naruto lay back down on the couch with his class readings and tried to pick up where he had left off, but he couldn’t really concentrate on it any more. He was going to be able to try out! He’d gotten a little worried when Coach Maito had said that he was going to need pads and stuff; the only helmet he had didn’t fit him properly any more, and he’d never owned any of the pads, not even the shin pads.

Naruto still couldn’t believe that Shino’s parents were actually driving the gear over, though. It boggled his mind – Iruka and sometimes Kakashi were pretty much the only people who had ever done that sort of thing for him before, going out of their way to help him with something. He hoped that the gear would fit well enough, since the Aburames were going to all this trouble for him, not to mention that he didn’t want to look like a child trying on his parents’ clothes when he was on the ice. But he didn’t remember Shino’s older brother as being that much bigger than Shino, if at all, when he was into hockey in high school, and Naruto and Shino were almost the same size, so he thought it’d be all right, even if the fit wasn’t perfect.

The buzzing of his intercom interrupted his thoughts, and Naruto jumped off the couch and ran over to it, slapping the button that would unlock the security door at the entrance to his building and then heading out into the hall and to the stairs. Halfway down, he met Shino and his parents carrying the gear, and immediately took some of what Shino’s mother – who was in front of her son and husband – was carrying, and then turned and headed back up the stairs to his floor, the Aburames following him.

Opening the door, Naruto let his guests in to his apartment first, and then followed them in.

“Um, you can just dump it here and I’ll find somewhere to put it later; I don’t want to be too much trouble. Thanks so much for letting me borrow this and then bringing it over, I really appreciate it.”

Shino’s mother, smiled at him – Shino didn’t get his indifferent mask from her. “You’re welcome, though it was no trouble at all. You’re a nice boy, Naruto, it’s just a shame that so few people will believe it.”

Naruto flushed and rubbed the back of his neck with one hand, visibly embarrassed. “Thanks, Mrs. Aburame. I don’t hear that much.”

“Just Moriko is fine, dear.”

“Um, okay...”

“Ah, but you probably have homework to do, don’t you?” Moriko said in sudden realisation. “We should probably let you get back to that. Come along, Shino, Shibi dear.”

“Yes, Mother,” Shino said. “See you at school tomorrow, Naruto.”

Shibi merely nodded at the somewhat dumbfounded Naruto.

“Uh, yeah,” he said as he followed them to his door, and slipped on his shoes to walk them out.

“We’ll see ourselves out, Naruto, you go back to your school work,” said Moriko, waving her hand at him. “Do let us know if that equipment fits.”

“Y-yeah, okay, see you tomorrow, Shino!” Naruto replied, taking his shoes off again.

Then the Aburames were gone, leaving a rather confused Naruto in their wake. How could someone as apparently talkative as Moriko was deal with such a silent husband and child – though as he remembered, Shino's brother hadn't been anywhere near as quite as Shino was. Maybe, Naruto thought with a grin, she and Shino's brother were why Shino and his dad were so quiet all the time.

It was certainly an amusing thought, and it wasn’t entirely out of the realm of possibility, at least as far as Shino was concerned. Naruto was pretty sure that Shino’s dad had always been quiet.

Locking the deadbolt behind his departed visitors, Naruto looked down at the hockey equipment now in a pile on the floor and crossed his arms. Now was probably as good a time as any to try it on, and he knew he wasn’t going to get much more of his reading done; he was too excited to concentrate. He’d have to do it on the bus in the morning.

Grinning widely, he pumped his fist in the air and gave a little jump.

“Yes! I have gear! Hockey team, here I come!”

********************************************************************
Yup, that’s chapter four. Introducing Gai, Anko (she was mentioned before but didn’t have any actual “screen time”), and Shino’s parents. I totally made up his mother’s name, since Kishimoto has said nothing about her. I decided to assume she’s alive, because it's more fun that way, and Sasuke and Naruto and Neji already have enough angst for the whole story. XD Kishimoto seems to have this thing about not mentioning people’s parents unless they directly relate to the plot.

Next chapter will be the tryouts! I hope you enjoyed this chapter and are looking forward to the next one!
********************************************************************
Game Five

I meant to get this posted yesterday, but then I got distracted trying to come up with a title for the fic. Again. I ended up looking through the Adopt-a-Title thread on the NaNo forums and making a master list of all the titles. All 2500+ of them. Oops? ^^;;

And after all that, I didn't manage to find one. But I DO have a short list of possible titles. Which is a step in the right direction. But I am indecisive, so... opinions! Which ones do you guys like best? I'm particularly partial to the bolded ones as the novel title, though there's a few that could be chapter titles as well.

Possible titles:

View From the Ice
The Sound of Frozen Ground
Hockey Tape and Bubble Gum
In Between the Lines
Five on Five
If These Sticks Could Talk
The Blade’s Creation
Getting Over Your Crappy Childhood (this will probably end up being a chapter title regardless, but you'll have to wait and see which chapter XD)

So. That's all, folks~!

Some little changes...

2007-12-06T17:35:59Z

LJ has new policies concerning Adult Concepts and Adult Content (viewable here), I've had to flag one of my prior entries as having "Adult Concepts". In summary, this means that anyone under fourteen won't be able to read it, and if you didn't give LJ your birthday when you registered, they might be prompting you for it before they let you view the entry, or something like that anyway.

If you're over the specific age, then you won't see any changes at all, so if this is confusing you, that's probably why. XD

If you don't have an LJ, it'll prompt you to confirm your age as over fourteen for "Adult Concepts"; I assume it's the same for "Adult Content" stuff, but I don't have any entries I can test that with. XD

This means anything I post in the future that talks about sex and whatnot, will either be flagged Adult Concepts (fourteen and over), or Adult Content (eighteen and over).

Just putting it out there.

[poem] Ice on Dead Leaves (v1.0) + critiques from classmates

2007-11-13T18:52:48Z

Title: Ice on Dead Leaves
Author: inkntendinitis aka caitlin_chan
Genre: poetry, general
Rating: G

The tsuba digs into my hip as I kneel here,
but it is a familiar discomfort, and easily tolerable.
My lord, Minamoto no Yoshinaka-sama, is meditating,
and I guard the room, as is my duty.

In the morning I am off to battle, and I have already
prepared myself – my hair is tied and perfumed, my
daisho and armour are cleaned and polished.
I am ready for whatever is needed of me.

I will be sent out as my lord's first captain—
I am always the first on the field, the first to face
death, with my yumi at my side, my daisho in hand.
I will show no mercy and give no quarter.

Nights in the month of Kisaragi are sharp and cold;
my breath mists in the air, tiny clouds of my own making.
There is a thin layer of ice on the dead leaves in the
garden before me: glaze on fine ceramic tea cups.
=============================================
Fifth Creative Writing assignment, to write a persona poem that portrays someone from a different time period; fictional or factual people were both acceptable options.

All critiques are posted verbatim; even grammar/spelling/phrasing errors or awkwardness are preserved for completeness. (Editing someone else's comments = so not cool, yo.) The one thing I edit is that J.P. always signs his name after the "Slainte" and I'm taking that out for privacy's sake.

This is very well detailed. Too bad I don’t know much about this character. My favourite line is the 3rd in the last stanza, it is nice and inventive. Besides that everything else tells me the story and it is definitely unique to say the least. The only thing I would suggest is maybe adding a few more homerun lines, one’s that really get the readers attention, one with a metaphor or something like that.
~J.A.

I loved the title, and I thought your last two lines were fantastic! That being said, however, I found the number and placement of foreign terms in this poem confusing, and for that reason they degraded from the overall impact of the poem on me. For some reason the line that most embodied the persona you were writing about was of a more subtle nature: “I have already prepared myself – my hair is tied and perfumed.” To me, that is a very Oriental aspect of battle preparation, and thus introduces your persona in a very subtle and effective way. Once again, stellar ending, and great poem overall Caitlin!
~B.G.

Cool choice of persona. I don’t know anything about samurai, but you captured the voice I would imagine one to have. The image you close with is beautiful. Fantastic ending. The whole final stanza was definitely my favorite. Use of Japanese words was effective, however the words also served as an impediment for me as a reader—I had difficulty visualizing the piece as a result. Tsuba, daisho, yumi, could all have been swords. Maybe they are? Anyway, great poem!
~J.G.

I like the Medieval Japan imagery in this one. The samurai characterization is done very well. I wish I had a little more background knowledge so I could more easily decipher some of your references, but most are fairly obvious in their specific contexts. I like how you didn’t go over the top with mythological or historical references because I feel those would be unimportant to a common warrior at the time. Good attention to detail on that. Very good job.
~C.H.

I was originally going to say that your use of words that no one would ever know (tsuba, for instance) are not necessary and need to go, but the fact that they’re so connected to the world of this poem tells me that even though the reader may not know what they are, that in itself may be the point. The imagery in the poem is great, but the final stanza is really obscure and to me doesn’t flow at all with the rest of the poem. Still, the language in that particular stanza is great, and I would try integrating the lines into others stanzas and writing a new ending. Nice work!
~C.L.

I felt like you’re ending wasn’t as strong as it could be. It feels like we’re just left hanging. I’m impressed with the words, and the knowledge in this poem, but I’m not sure I’m convinced that this is the voice a soldier like this would use. I loved the reference to ice on dead leaves and how you put it as your title. Good way to capture our attention. I really did like that entire last stanza.
~M.P.

I like you title, it really serves to draw the reader in. I also enjoy all your insertion of Japanese terms, it adds authority and authenticity to your piece. The only suggestion I might voice is about line five. Where you say “I am off to battle” everything else in your poem is so eloquent I feel this line is a weak spot. “off to battle” could almost be off to school or something. I feel it lacks the gravity of the rest of the poem. Anyway only one little thing. Slainte.
~J.P.

Alright, I think this is likely your best poem to date. I feel that you capture the Japanese sound well. The last paragraph especially caught my eye (as a side not, did you consider actually making that bit a haiku?) because of the sudden switch away from the images of combat. This is reminiscent of traditional Japanese form, which is influenced heavily by the switch between material and immaterial matters. A few problems with your Japanese, you don’t need ‘lord Minamoto no Yoshinaka-sama’, its like saying ATM machine. As well, if the title suffix is italicized, the entire name should be.
~N.R.
[Note: I sent the wrong version of this poem to the class, and in this wrong version, the commas in line three (“...my lord, Minamoto no Yoshinaka-sama, is...”) that set off the name were missing, hence the comment about “ATM machine”. I also admit I disagree with his comment that the whole name should be italicised; “Minamoto no Yoshinaka” is a proper noun, while the “-sama” suffix is an honorific, not a proper noun.]

Good description of the atmosphere, but really too much like an anime fanfic to get a poetic grasp of it. This idea really has been played out and maybe cliché isn’t the right word but the idea of the majority of it to anyone who has seen a variety of feudal Japan based films or read books concerning the time frame it really followed the same ideas and plan as it usually does.
~T.R.

[fic] NaNo07 novel, currently untitled (3/?) (v1.0)

2007-11-09T04:51:50Z

Fandom: Naruto
Genre: AU, gen, friendship, sports (?)
Rating: PG13 for language
Wordcount: 5445 for this chapter

Disclaimer: I do not own in part or full any aspect of Naruto. This is the property of Kishimoto Masashi-sensei, his relevant partners and subsidiaries. I do own all original aspects of this fanfiction including but not limited to original characters and plot. This fanfiction has been published at no profit, purely for the enjoyment of the fans and the collective good of the series.

Author’s notes: I am not using Japanese in this fic, not even the suffixes (such as “-chan” and “-kun”) because I have not set the story in Japan, nor in the Naruto world; there is no Fire country or Wind Country in this story. The specific setting is not really important, but if you are really that curious about it, then they’re in Random Small-ish City, Insert Province, Canada (yes, Canada). Anything that would normally be expressed through the suffixes (such as the way one particular character addresses another particular character) will be expressed in other fashions – the way they treat each other and the use, misuse, or abuse of nicknames and/or epithets.

<Insert Witty or At Least Vaguely Interesting Title Here>
A Naruto fanfic written for National Novel Writing Month 2007
by inkntendinitis aka caitlin_chan aka Tsuki Yuuki

Previous games (aka chapters, but I like being vaguely pretentious by changing what I call my parts like this):
Game One
Game Two

Game Three

The first day of school was sunny and warm and all those other picture perfect things, but Naruto was Not Pleased. In fact, he was downright annoyed. The bus had been late, and then it had been full, so he’d had to wait for the next one, and now he was late for the first day opening ceremony- announcement- meeting- assembly thing that everyone his grade was supposed to be at. Opening the back door of the gymnasium as quietly as he could, Naruto slipped in, hoping to avoid everyone noticing him.

It didn’t work.

“Hey, you! In the orange tee shirt!”

The principal was on the stage at the front of the room, standing at the microphone. It was through this microphone that she yelled at poor, late (but not through his own fault) Naruto. Naruto stopped mid- step and hung his head, feeling the day go even further down the toilet than it already had.

“Yes, you! Come see me in my office after the assembly. And if you don’t show, I will find out who you are, so don’t even try to skip it!”

With that, she went back to her previous topic of discussion, and Naruto slunk up to the back row of chairs, his face beet red, amid snickers and pointing fingers and stares from his classmates. He sat down and slouched down in his chair as far as he could go, and wished he could just hide on the floor on turn invisible. Or disguise himself as someone else by some sort of magic trick or something. Yeah, looking like someone else would be good at this point. That would be ideal.

Sadly, thing didn’t work that way, and he continued to hear whispers and giggles and see people craning their necks to look at him or for him for the rest of the assembly, though he did see that a few of those craned necks were his friends. That didn’t bother him so much as the total strangers trying to stare at him like an animal in the zoo.

Naruto sat uncomfortably scrunched down in his chair for the other half an hour of the assembly, his face gradually lessening its red tint, only for his blush to come back full force when he over heard the people in the row of chairs in front of him making fun of him for being late on the first day of school. Naruto resisted the urge to call them on it, not wanting to cause any more commotion during the assembly – he was already in enough trouble as it was, he was sure. The principal had looked pretty annoyed when he came in and interrupted the assembly; though he didn’t think he’d been that loud about it.

The assembly ended with a mass exodus of tenth graders out into the hallways and going to their various classes, and Naruto stood up and slung his bag over his shoulder, heading out of the gymnasium with everyone else and then to the second floor where the main office was. He sat in the chair in front of the secretary’s desk and plopped his backpack into his lap, ignoring the secretary’s raised eyebrow at the very early appearance of someone apparently here for discipline.

The principal breezed into the room, totally ignoring Naruto where he sat in the chair and went into her office in the back corner of the main office.

Naruto raised an eyebrow as she apparently totally ignored him, and sighed heavily. Hopefully the actual meeting wouldn’t turn out with her pretty much ignoring everything he had to say. The principal at his last school had been nice, but the teachers had more than made up for the principal’s kindness. After a few minutes of waiting, a sharp order that Naruto couldn’t quite make out came from the principal’s office, and the secretary looked up and waved at him

“Okay, you can go in now. Don’t be too intimidated, her bark is worse than her bite,” she said wit a smile, and a voice from the office replied.

“Don’t tell them that, Shizune! They’re supposed to live in fear of me!”

The secretary—apparently named Shizune—grinned and tried ineffectually to hide it behind her hand as Naruto went past her desk and to the principal’s office door. This was certainly the strangest principal he had ever met, and he’d only been in the office for ten minutes.

Cautiously, Naruto entered the office and lurked by the door while waiting for some sort of instruction as to what the principal wanted him to do or where she wanted him to sit.

“Come in, brat, and have a seat. Since Shizune spoiled the surprise, I suppose I can tell you that I don’t bite.” The principal was standing and staring out a window that Naruto presumed overlooked the back parking lot and the patch of trees behind the school – the orientation of the window was such that it couldn’t really be looking at anything else. She had long blonde hair tied into pigtails and—Naruto hurriedly redirected his gaze—very large, ahem, assets.

Already confused and not sure if principals were actually allowed to call their students “brat” but not really wanting to call her on it just in case, Naruto entered the office and sat down in the chair in front of the principal’s desk. The name plate on her desk said “Tsunade Kamo”, and Naruto cleared his throat as he set his bag on the floor next to his chair.

“Uh, look, I’m sorry I was late. The busses—”

“Naruto Uzumaki, right?” Principal Kamo interrupted him, her tone dry.

“Yeah—wait, how do you know my name? I didn’t introduce myself yet, and I’m sure I don’t know you.”

She crossed her office and took a seat at her desk, resting her elbows on the desktop and steepling her fingers together. “Your reputation precedes you.”

Naruto’s shoulders slumped. So it was like that, was it? He was going to be mocked and treated like shit—again—because of things he couldn’t control, like the fact that he had no parents or that he’d been ignored since he was small and had, however desperately, turned to making trouble to get attention. He hadn’t done any permanent damage, and he’d always cleaned anything he’d vandalised, so it wasn’t like he had been some sort of holy terror of a child who took no responsibility for anything. He surged to his feet, knocking his chair backwards onto the floor as he did so.

“Listen, you old hag! I’m not going to take this crap here; I’ve had enough of it! And I’m—what the hell is your problem? Why are you laughing? Stop laughing!”

Naruto stood panting, his face red and a hot rage bubbling in his chest as Principal Kamo began to contain her very evident amusement. He clenched his fists so hard that his knuckles turned white and he could feel his nails digging into his palms as the principal wiped a tear of laughter from the corner of her eye.

“That is not what I meant at all, but you have a very good ranting voice.”

Naruto stopped what he had planned to say before it left his lips and his jaw dropped. “W-what?”

“I said, that isn’t what I meant. I know your situation, but I have no intention of ridiculing you or anything similar.”

“Oh.” Dumbstruck, Naruto very calmly and quietly picked up his chair from the floor and sat down again, the wind completely gone out of his sails. He had no idea what to make of this woman at this point, but he thought he should perhaps apologise.

“I’m... I’m sorry for yelling like that. I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions like I did.”

Principal Kamo snorted. “Don’t apologise, you’re just the type of person I’ve been told you are. I was hoping that what I had heard would prove true. So far, it doesn’t seem like you’ll disappoint me.”

Naruto was a little curious at that. “So... what have you heard about me? And from who?”

“I have it from a very reliable source—no, I won’t tell you who yet—that you are loud, brash, frequently impulsive in your actions, and prone to speaking without thinking. As far as my information goes, you are an average student and you tend to not pay overly much attention in class, and were well known for pranks at your old school.”

Naruto slumped down slightly in his seat at the merciless evaluation of his character. He couldn’t very well argue with the truth, could he?

“Besides this, however,” Principal Kamo continued, and Naruto perked up a little in hope, “you’ve displayed loyalty to your friends that many can’t say they have always shown to their families, have accepted everyone who was willing to be your friend as they were, and have displayed an incredible ability to change people for the better just by coming into contact with them.”

By this point, Naruto’s face was again red, but this time in embarrassment. He didn’t have any idea who it was saying these things about him, but he had never expected it. Not at all, considering what people usually had to say about him.

“Um, Ms. Kamo, is there... a point to this? I mean, why are you telling me who I am? I know who I am, and how I am. I know I’m a sucky student, and that I’m loud, and too damn loyal for my own good sometimes.”

“Don’t call me ‘Ms. Kamo’, brat; it makes me feel old. ‘Principal Tsunade’ is fine. And as to why I’m telling you this, well, I thought it might be something you might like to know. God knows your reputation is going to end up spread around here, too, so I thought it might help.”

“Oh.” Naruto’s shoulders slumped again at the prospect of having to deal with more of the bullshit he’d always dealt with. He couldn’t say he was honestly surprised, though he had hoped for things to be a little better in high school.

“As I said before, I’m aware of your situation and of the responsibilities you have due to this situation. Your teachers have also been made aware of it. If you’re having problems, you can talk to any of the faculty or to the guidance counsellor, or if you don’t wan to talk to any of them you can talk to me. I know you may not feel you need help, but balancing the demands of a high school homework schedule, a work schedule, and any extracurricular activities you may pick up might leave you a little... short handed, so to speak.”

“Um, thanks, I guess.”

“It is my responsibility as the principal of this school to see to the welfare of my students, and I felt it was a good idea to talk to you privately. When you came in late, it gave me the perfect reason to call you in without pulling you out of class over the PA.”

“I think I’d have rather been pulled out of class over the PA, thanks,” Naruto grumbled, still annoyed by the reaction he had received from his fellow students at the assembly.”

Principal Tsunade grinned somewhat wickedly. “Well, this way was rather more fun, wasn’t it?”

“Are you sane enough to be running a school? You sure don’t seem it to me.”

She laughed, and then grinned again. “I like you, brat. You have guts.”

“...Thanks?”

“Now get out of here,” she said as she picked up some papers. “You have a class to attend.”

“But—”

“I said get going! Shoo!” Principal Tsunade flapped her hand at him, paying more attention to the paper in her hand than Naruto, so he turned and left the office, closing the door behind him.

Shizune looked impressed. “You know, not many people get away with yelling at Principal Tsunade like that; you must have really impressed her.”

“That’s all well and good, but how does she expect me to go to class if I haven’t got a class schedule? I missed homeroom this morning.”

“Well, I can take care of that for you. Just give me one minute to bring your schedule up and run it off, okay? I’ll write you a late pass, too, so your teacher doesn’t get after you.” Shizune got busy on her computer and Naruto found that he was grinning despite his lingering annoyance.

“Thanks, Miss Shizune.”

“Just Shizune is fine, really. I’m not that much older than you, you know.”

“Um, okay.”

The printer whirred and hummed, and Shizune passed the sheet of paper that it spat out over to Naruto along with a hall pass. It was still warm.

“There you are! The assembly took up first period, so you should be going to your second period class now, okay? We’re on Day One of the cycle.”

Naruto nodded, studying the paper in his hands. “All right, thanks. See you later,” he said with a wave as he headed out of the main office.

The schedule covered the top half of the page, and a small map pf the school covered the bottom. According to the schedule he was meant to be in his Science class, apparently in the lower level of the school. He headed to the stairs across the hall and down to the lower level. The school was only two levels, but the first floor wasn’t really a ground level or traditional first floor, since it was more like a basement in that it was half underground.

He turned left at the bottom of the stairs and went all the way to the far end of the hall, where he nearly missed the door to his math classroom, since it was hidden in a little jig of wall. Naruto pushed opened the door and found himself at the front of the room. He sighed, and the teacher looked over from where he was going over the plan for the semester and the marking scheme on the chalkboard.

“Can I help you with something?”

“Um, I’m supposed to be in this class. Naruto Uzumaki. Principal Tsunade wanted to see me.” Naruto came in and closed the door behind him, scanning the room for as empty seat beside someone he knew, if he knew anyone in the class. He sighed in relief as he spotted Chouji in the back of the room, and stepped in a little further.

“Naruto, is it? Well, you’re late. Do you have a pass?”

The teacher turned towards Naruto and he tried very hard not to stare as the left side of his face became visible. A bumpy, raised scar ran from the bridge of his nose and across his cheek to the lower left side of his jaw. Naruto pulled his gaze away as he handed the blue hall pass to the teacher, and gestured awkwardly to the desks.

“Uh, I’ll just sit down now.”

“Sure, sit where ever you want. I’m Mr. Namiashi, and,” he paused and turned to the table behind him, “here’s a course outline. We’re just going over it now, so take a seat.”

“Thanks,” Naruto said as he took the papers, and he quickly made his way to the back of the room and sat in the empty desk next to Chouji.

Taking out a blue binder – which he had decided would be for Science, Naruto tucked the course outline into the front cover pocket and tried to pay attention. He was going to do his best to actually pay attention in all of his classes this year. He was nearly sixteen, and it was time he started acting like it. Or something like that, anyway; he wasn’t quite sure why, but he just thought it would be good to try and bring his marks up. He hadn’t exactly been at the top of his classes in junior high.

“You didn’t really miss much,” Chouji said in a quiet mutter from his left. “You’re only about ten minutes late – he hasn’t even handed out the textbooks yet.”

“Thanks, Chouji,” Naruto whispered back, disguising his words by bending over the in his seat to get a pencil out if his back pack, and then straightened up.

Mr. Namiashi had started over from the beginning of his explanation for the marking scheme, Naruto figured, because he was talking about the probable dates for the first test, which was already only two weeks away. Sighing, Naruto clicked his mechanical pencil to get some lead and made a couple little notes on his course outline sheet from what was on the board, since it didn’t seem to be on the paper. Mr. Namiashi didn’t talk in a monotone, exactly, but Science wasn’t Naruto’s favourite subject, and the first day classes were always boring. He had a feeling it was going to be a long day.

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The lunch break found Naruto sitting outside at one of the picnic tables in the school yard with his friends. He’d wasn’t entirely sure what to make of his first day – between the crazy principal, his scarred Science teacher, and his slightly psychotic PAL/CaLM teacher, he was sure it was going to be an interesting semester, if nothing else. He had his other two classes after lunch and he wasn’t sure if he should be worried or excited for Ancient History and Science 10.

Naruto had brought his own lunch from home, though most of his friends had bought theirs at the cafeteria, but he was happy with what he had to eat. The fries looked really good, but Hinata had let him have a few of hers, so his curiosity was satisfied, though he had decided he would have to treat himself to them sometimes, because they were really damn tasty. Nobody was really talking; most everyone was eating, though Shino had already finished and was apparently absorbed in the newest book he had picked up, something about the changing ecology of the rainforests and how it affected the insect populations.

Finishing his sandwich, Naruto balled up the plastic wrap that had been around it and got up to take it to the garbage, grabbing a couple of crumpled up chips bags and an empty french fry tray from in front of his friends and dumping it all. Returning to the table, he sat down with his back leaning against the tabletop and stretched out his legs. He began to hum a little, trying to get rid of the tune stuck in his head and grinned when Sakura started singing the words. Ino picked it up next, and then Chouji and Kiba, while Shino also began to hum with Naruto. Sasuke sighed and looked exasperated, and Shikamaru just put his head on the table and muttered something about having troublesome friends.

                So you think you can stone me and spit in my eye-
                So you think you can love me and leave me to die-
                Oh baby- can’t do this to me baby-
                Just gotta get out -just gotta get right outta here-

                Nothing really matters,
                Anyone can see,
                Nothing really matters- nothing really matters to me,

                Any way the wind blows...

Naruto looked up as his friends as they finished singing and burst into laughter, along with Sakura, Ino, and Kiba. Sasuke continued to look exasperated and vaguely annoyed, and Shikamaru didn’t lift his head from the table.

“Oh, man, that was great,” Naruto said with a grin. “We should do that more often. Sasuke, Shikamaru, you should have sung along! Even Shino hummed!”

“No,” said Sasuke and Shikamaru in unison, though Sasuke sounded annoyed while Shikamaru just sounded disinterested.

“You guys are party poopers,” Naruto declared, “Aren’t they, Hinata?”

Hinata blushed a little and ducked her head. “If they don’t want to sing, we shouldn’t make them.”

“Aw, Hinata! I guess you’re right, though. But you have to admit it’d be funny.”

“It would not, dumb ass,” Sasuke said flatly.

“Not a dumb ass, bastard.”

“Okay, enough you two,” Sakura interrupted before it could go any further. “What classes do you have after lunch, Sasuke?”

Sasuke went along with her change of subject, however obvious it was, and glad to be away from the discussion of him singing ridiculous songs for no apparent reason. “I have Science and Art.”

“Hey, who do you have for Science?”

Sasuke pulled his schedule out of his pocket and checked it. “I have a G. Shiranui.”

Naruto wilted. “Oh, that’s a different teacher from me and Chouji. I have no idea what he’s like.”

“Who do you have?”

“We have Namiashi,” Chouji said. “He seems all right so far.”

“Hn.” Sasuke tucked the schedule back into his pocket.

“I have art with you, Sasuke,” said Sakura with a smile. “You have it last period, right?”

“Yeah.”

The end of lunch buzzer going off interrupted the conversation, and the group gathered their things up and threw their garbage out before all heading in their separate directions. Naruto went up to the second floor to Ancient History, and was surprised when he glanced back and saw Hinata going in the same direction.

“Hey, Hinata, do you have Ancient History, too?”

“Yes, is that where you’re going?”

“Yup! I wonder what this Hagane guy is like. I hope he’s not boring or anything, because that would suck a lot.”

“I don’t know; I also hope he’s interesting,” she replied quietly.

At the end of the hall, across from the cafeteria was the classroom they were looking for, and the pair entered together. Looking around, both of their eyes widened at the sheer amount of excellent stuff in the room. Instead of desks, there were six rounds table with chairs around them, and each table was painted differently. One had a few of the Greek gods, another had the Chinese Zodiac, another the regular Zodiac, another had the solar system, one had military emblems and fighter planes, and one had been painted with a yin yang surrounded by different combinations of broken and straight lines.

One wall of the room was lined with glass- fronted cupboards, and each cupboard contained what must have been past projects. A small, scale model of the Parthenon, a short sword that looked like it was actually made of metal, the Arc de Triomphe, the Brandenburg Gates, and numerous things that neither Naruto nor Hinata could recognise. On the top of the cupboard, lay a life- sized battle- axe: eight or ten feet of solid wood and shining metal.

“Welcome to Ancient History,” said a voice to their right, and when they looked, there was a man they assumed was their teacher standing behind a large desk in the corner of the room. “Come on in and have a seat while we wait for the rest of the class to show up.”

Naruto and Hinata nodded in unison and moved further into the room and then took a seat at the table with the yin yang on it, and surveyed their teacher. He was in his late twenties or early thirties, perhaps, with dark eyes and unruly dark hair. His face seemed to be stuck in a perpetual half- grin, and he looked friendly enough, but there was something a little bit... odd about the way he looked at the people coming in. Like he was evaluating them for something.

Shaking his head at the silly notion, Naruto pulled out his red binder and a pen and waited for the rest of the class to show up. It took another five or so minutes for everyone to arrive, and the class was full to the brim, with out a single extra chair. Apparently it was a popular class, so it was either really easy, really interesting, or people were just trying to fill their schedule.

“Okay!” Mr. Hagane’s voice filled the room, and people began to settle down. “Welcome to Ancient History. My name is Kotetsu Hagane, and there are two things we’re going to do in here before I give out you course outlines. First, I need a volunteer.”

The class exchanged glances, a little bit confused. A volunteer? Before even getting their course outlines? A few people shrugged and raised their hands, Naruto among them. Mr. Hagane waved in his general direction, and when Naruto gestured to himself, he nodded.

“All right, you can come over here and stand in the middle of the room.”

A little bit curious and slightly nervous, Naruto got up out of his chair and moved to the centre of the room. A few people exchanged amused glances and grins, and snickered, and he figured that they must recognise him from the morning’s assembly, but he ignored them and stood in front of Mr. Hagane.

“Is here good?”

“That’s fine. Now, your name is...?”

“I’m Naruto Uzumaki.”

“All right.” Mr. Hagane reached out and grabbed Naruto’s arm gently and pulled it up. “Okay, I’m going to make you ten times stronger than you are now. Keep your arm up here, and bend it at the elbow, with your forearm in front of and slightly above your forehead. Yes, good, like that. Now, I want you to look at my feet and copy my stance.”

Mr. Hagane moved next to Naruto and placed his left leg in front of him, bending the knee so that his knee was over his toes. His right leg he stretched back and moved to the right so that his legs were about a shoulder width apart. Naruto copied him, and Mr. Hagane examined his footing and made a few small changes before he stood back.

Naruto felt a little bit of a fool standing there with his arm up and bent in front of his head, but he did as he was bid. He clenched his jaw slightly as he heard snickers and giggles again, but he ignored them as best he could.

“Now, brace your arm as much as you can. Make it as strong as possible, and I’m going to move it.”

Mr. Hagane raised a hand and hooked one finger over Naruto’s wrist, and pulled. Naruto resisted as much as he could, and Mr. Hagane had to add another two fingers before he could make Naruto’s arm move.

“Hey, you’re pretty strong, not bad,” he said as Naruto rolled his shoulder. “Usually I only need one finger, or maybe two, to move people’s arms. I’m impressed.”

“Thanks, Mr. Hagane,” Naruto replied, looking a little self- conscious.

“Okay, put you left arm back up, and draw your right back and make a fist, and keep your first at the level of the waistband of you pants, since you probably don’t have a belt on.”

Mr. Hagane made a few small changes to the positions of Naruto’s arms, and then stepped in front of him and looked him right in the eye.

“All, right. Now, if you look out that window, what’s in that direction?”

“Um, some trees, and houses.”

“Look past those. However many thousands of kilometres away across the Atlantic, what’s there?”

“Ireland and stuff, I think.” Naruto hoped it was okay that he wasn’t entirely sure.

“All right. So look at Ireland. And in Ireland, there’s a hill. And on this hill there’s a cow grazing. It’s a purple cow, and I want you to stare at that cow and don’t look away. Just keep staring at that cow.”

Trying not to snicker at the mental image of a purple cow grazing on a hill in Ireland, Naruto looked out the window and focussed, trying to imagine he was looking at Ireland. Mr. Hagane stepped in front of him, and he felt hands on his arm.

“Keep looking at that purple cow, Naruto; and no matter what I’m doing, don’t take your eyes off of it.”

Mr. Hagane shifted positions and little bit, and then leaned forward and Naruto felt a lot of weight on his arm, but it oddly didn’t feel heavy at all. He stood there and looked at the purple cow on the hill in Ireland and after a minute or two, Mr. Hagane stopped leaning and let go of his arm and stepped back.

“Did everyone see that? I was leaning on Naruto’s arm with everything I had, all my weight, and he didn’t move an inch. You’re ten times stronger than you were five minutes ago, Naruto. Good job. You can go back to your seat now.”

Naruto went back to his seat, a little dumbfounded. He has never realised that focus had that much to do with strength. He knew he always felt like he moved faster and could shoot harder when he was hyper focussed on the game, but he had never thought that maybe he was a little bit faster or a little bit stronger.

“Wow, Hinata, that was so cool!” Naruto exclaimed in an excited whisper once he was back in his seat. “I’ve never felt anything like it! Where’d he learn about that?”

“I don’t know, Naruto, but I wonder what the other thing he wants to do with us is.”

“I hope it’s as cool as that!”

Hinata giggled, and they both turned their attention back to their teacher, curiosity more than peaked for the next thing they were going to be doing. It certainly seemed like it was going to be an interesting year, that was for sure, and neither Hinata nor Naruto had any complaints about that.

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"Kamo" means "sucker" (as in, the Legendary kind :D), and is also an actual Japanese surname, so I though tit was appropriate. Plus I was tired of seeing "Sannin" as Tsunade's surname. XD

Yes, Naruto et al. are singing/humming “Bohemian Rhapsody” by Queen. I figure, if my entire Asian Studies: Martial Arts class can break into this song on the minibus on the way to the Run Against Racism – several of us, including myself, never having seen Wayne’s World, just knowing the song – then Naruto and his friends can, too. I can totally see Naruto being a Queen fan, but maybe that’s just me. Opinions? I tried to make it in character....

I’m totally basing Naruto’s high school off of my old one: East Pictou Rural High, where I went to grades seven through eleven. I’ve described Kotetsu’s classroom pretty much exactly as it was when I arrived for my first Ancient History class with Mr. Fraser; tables, former students’ project, battle- axe, and all. Yes, he had an actual, scale, sharpened battle- axe in his classroom. On top of a cabinet. It fell and took a chunk out of the floor tiles once, when some idiot pushed a desk into the side of the cabinet. XD Is it any wonder that he’s my favourite high school teacher ever?

This thing that I had Kotetsu do with Naruto? It’s completely true; I’ve had it done to me. I was fifteen and pretty skinny and I took as much weight as my about 180 pound teacher could press down on my arm with, around 150 pounds. :D Oh yeah, I felt like I was awesome after that – how could I not? A 120 pound fifteen year old girl not folding under at least 150 pounds of pressure? XD The other thing I have Kotetsu doing with them (though I haven’t put it in this chapter, it will be mentioned later) is equally cool, if all mental and not physical at all.
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Game Four

[fic] NaNo07 novel, currently untitled (2/?) (v1.0)

2007-11-07T04:46:21Z

Fandom: Naruto
Genre: AU, gen, friendship, sports (?)
Rating: PG13 for language
Wordcount: 3832 for this chapter

Disclaimer: I do not own in part or full any aspect of Naruto. This is the property of Kishimoto Masashi-sensei, his relevant partners and subsidiaries. I do own all original aspects of this fanfiction including but not limited to original characters and plot. This fanfiction has been published at no profit, purely for the enjoyment of the fans and the collective good of the series.

Author’s notes: I am not using Japanese in this fic, not even the suffixes (such as “-chan” and “-kun”) because I have not set the story in Japan, nor in the Naruto world; there is no Fire country or Wind Country in this story. The specific setting is not really important, but if you are really that curious about it, then they’re in Random Small-ish City, Insert Province, Canada (yes, Canada). Anything that would normally be expressed through the suffixes (such as the way one particular character addresses another particular character) will be expressed in other fashions – the way they treat each other and the use, misuse, or abuse of nicknames and/or epithets.

<Insert Witty or At Least Vaguely Interesting Title Here>
A Naruto fanfic written for National Novel Writing Month 2007
by inkntendinitis aka caitlin_chan aka Tsuki Yuuki

Previous games (aka chapters, but I like being vaguely pretentious by changing what I call my parts like this):
Game One

Game Two

Back on the pavement the next day, Naruto couldn’t help but notice the almost desperation that everyone was playing with. It was nearly the end of summer vacation – there were only two weeks remaining until school started, until they started their first year of high school, and it was on everyone’s minds. Even if they were trying not to show it, Naruto could tell just by the way they reacted to every mention of school or teachers or studying. They were nervous, even if they didn’t want to admit it, Naruto himself included.

Charging with the ball down the street, Naruto deked left and got past Kiba, flicking his wrists and sending the ball zipping past Shikamaru to get caught in the mesh of the net. He whooped and punched his fist in the air, then winced as the motion pulled on the scabs on his side. Sasuke, coming up behind him, chuckled faintly.

“Careful not to hurt yourself, dumb ass.”

“I’m not a dumb ass, you bastard,” Naruto responded with a grin, wandering over to the side of the road to get a drink from his water bottle, Sasuke following to get his own.

Easing himself down onto the curb, he splashed some water over his hot face, and then took a drink. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Naruto leaned back against the telephone pole behind him.

“Have you thought about this year at all, Sasuke?”

“Sure I have. Why do you ask?” Sasuke squirted some water into his mouth, and then over his face, as Sakura came and sat down next to him.

“Why what?” Sakura interjected.

“Why I am asking him if he’s thought about school,”Naruto answered for Sasuke, and then continued, “I was thinking about trying out for the hockey team.”

“Is that a good idea, Naruto? I mean, can you afford it?” Sakura asked, and Naruto looked pointedly at Sasuke, who had his eyes closed and was wiping his face on his sleeve. Naruto hadn’t shared with Sasuke the specifics of his financial situation. He didn’t want any pity.

“’Course it’s a good idea. It’d be great to get on the ice and play. I mean, ball hockey is great, but nothing beats playing on the ice. And it wouldn’t be a big deal to get equipment; I already have skates, for one. No problem.” Naruto shot Sakura another glance, and then grinned just in time for Sasuke to open his eyes.

“Hm, you’ve got a good idea for once, dumb ass.”

“I thought I did. Hey! Maybe we could all try out! Wouldn’t that be crazy if we all made the team, eh? And I’m not a dumb ass, bastard.”

“The idea has merit; it certainly wouldn’t be impossible for us to all make the team; there was a fairly large graduating class last year, and I’m pretty sure it took around half of the boys’ hockey team with it.” Sasuke shifted his gaze to Sakura. “I don’t know about the girls’ team, though.”

“Well that’d be easy enough to find out about. I’d just have to ask someone, right?” Sakura shrugged, clearly not too concerned, and snagged Naruto’s water bottle to steal a drink.

“Hey! That’s mine!” Naruto exclaimed, but the grab he made to get it back was only half- hearted. “But would your mum want you trying out for the girls’ hockey team? She doesn’t really like you playing all that much, does she?”

Sakura shrugged again, her expression shifting to one more of annoyance than her previous nonchalance. “I don’t really care; I’m sick of her trying to dictate my life. Besides, my dad thinks playing hockey is good for me, so I’ve already got him on my side. It won’t be too hard to just ignore Mum and play anyway. And maybe she’ll change her mind about it if I make the team and she sees I don’t totally suck.”

Sasuke raised an eyebrow and Naruto stole back his water bottle, a slightly incredulous look on his face.

“Oh, fine,” Sakura huffed, “she probably won’t change her mind. But a girl can dream, can’t she?”

Their conversation was interrupted by a voice from across the street.

“What are you guys doing?” Kiba shouted over to them.

“We’re talking about trying out for the school hockey teams,” Naruto called back as he got to his feet. “Me and Sasuke and Sakura are all going to try out, so what do you say?”

“What the hell, it sounds like a good idea to me. Sure, I’ll try out,” Kiba answered as Naruto crossed the street, Sakura and Sasuke close behind him

Shino, Chouji, and Ino nodded and gave murmurs of assent, Shikamaru looked bored and long- suffering, and Hinata looked unsure.

“You’re going to make me try out for this troublesome team, aren’t you?” Shikamaru asked, sounding put- upon.

“Yup!” Naruto said with a cheeky grin, and Chouji nodded.

He sighed, and stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Fine, as long as I can try out for goal keeper. There’s less moving involved.”

That got a laugh from everyone except Hinata, and Shino looked at her.

“Is there something the matter, Hinata?” Shino asked in that calm, quiet way of his that always made one feel like one was being examined under a very thorough microscope.

She reddened slightly as everyone’s attention was suddenly focussed on her, and ducked her head to hide her eyes. “Um, well, I just am not sure if I’m good enough to play on the high school team. I can’t really keep up with you all, so…” Hinata trailed off uncertainly, and blushed some more.

Naruto shook his head. “Of course you’re good enough to try out for the high school team. You may be younger than the rest of us, but it doesn’t matter if you can’t keep up with us when we run because your stick handling is fantastic and if your work on skates is as good as your foot work on the pavement, then that should make up for any speed you might not have.”

Hinata looked up, her expression a little bit less unsure. “Do you really think so, Naruto?”

“Sure I do!” he said enthusiastically. Just cause you can’t run fast doesn’t mean you can’t maybe skate fast, and skating fast isn’t all there is to it, anyways, you know that. Buck up, eh? I’m sure you’ll do fine when you make the team! And I do mean when, Hinata!” Naruto scanned the group. “In fact, I bet we’re all going to make it. We’ll make it together or not at all, hey? How about that?”

Sasuke snorted. “As long as you don’t drag me down, dumb ass.”

Shikamaru shrugged, and Chouji grinned and put in, “I like the sound of that.”

“Let’s go for it!” Kiba pumped a fist into the air, and his dog, Akamaru, barked sharply from where he sat a few feet away.

Shino simply nodded silently, and Hinata gave a short, sharp nod and a determined, if still perhaps slightly unsure, “Yes.”

Sakura and Ino exchanged slightly predatory glances. “I bet my name is higher on the list when we make the team, Ino Pig.”

“I’ll take that bet, Forehead Girl, and I’ll raise it. If my name is higher than yours, then you have to come and do my work at the shop for a week.”

“And if mine is higher than yours, you have to dress like one of those Goth wannabe kids at school: black hair, black lipstick, the whole kit and caboodle.” Sakura grinned wickedly, and Ino glared.

“Hey, hair dye lasts more than a week; that’s not fair!”

“So use temporary dye, then, or that weird spray stuff. As long as your hair is black for a week, you can use whatever you want to dye it. Temporary dye is probably easiest, though.”

Ino crossed her arms across her chest and glared some more. “Fine, I’ll take it. You’re on, Forehead Girl!”

“I can’t wait, Ino Pig,” Sakura replied, planting her hands on her hips and grinning. “This will be fun.”

Sasuke smirked slightly and shook his head. “You two are so competitive.”

“Like you can talk; you’ve had that rivalry with Naruto since you guys were about eight years old,” Shikamaru put in with a snort.

Naruto snickered. “He’s got us there, Sasuke.”

“He’s got you there, maybe; just because you’re a competitive moron who can’t tell when he’s beaten doesn’t mean that I am,” Sasuke responded.

The rest of the group laughed and Sasuke glared as Kiba put in his own two cents, “If Naruto is the only competitive one in your relationship, then I’ll marry my sister.”

Everyone laughed again, and Naruto threw an arm around Sasuke’s shoulders. “You’re not going to fool these guys, you bastard. They know us too well.”

“Get off of me, dumb ass,” Sasuke said, and pushed Naruto’s arm off of his shoulder with a half- hearted snarl.

Naruto laughed again, and took a drink out of his water bottle. “Anyways, I’m getting hungry, so who wants to break for supper, because I know I do.”

Various murmurs and nods of assent answered him and it was unanimously decided to take a break to have supper. Kiba invited everyone over to his house for a barbeque—there was always room at the Inuzuka table for unannounced guests, even eight of them—so they all headed in the direction of the Inuzuka household, Akamaru proudly leading the way home. It was only about a ten minute walk to Kiba’s house, and he pushed the door open with a loud bang and a “MUM! I’m home! And I brought friends for supper!”

Tsume Inuzuka appeared from the pantry, her hands pressing raw ground beef into a patty and with a smear of something on her face. “Kiba, don’t slam the damn door!”

“Sorry, Mum,” he replied, slightly chagrined, “They can stay, right?”

“Well, you’ve invited them haven’t you?” Tsume answered gruffly. “I can’t exactly turn them away, now can I?”

Kiba stammered incoherently in the face of his mother’s apparently severe displeasure, much to the amusement of his friends. After letting her son sweat it for a minute, Tsume laughed.

“You kids are always welcome,” she said to the rest of the group, ignoring Kiba’s glare as he realised that she had fooled him into thinking she was actually annoyed. “Especially you, Naruto.”

Naruto’s face reddened slightly at the extra attention, though he couldn’t help but be a little happy that Tsume seemed to care enough to make sure he knew he wasn’t just being invited because he was part of the group. It was rare that his friends’ parents didn’t mind him coming around; some, like Sakura’s mother, essentially banned him from their household.

“Thanks,” Naruto replied with a somewhat embarrassed grin.

Tsume waved a hand dismissively and then retreated back into the pantry, presumably to continue making hamburger patties.

“You kids go find something to entertain yourselves; Kiba, in twenty minutes you can go out and start up the barbeque for me.”

“Sure, Mum.”

“And try not to pester your sister; she’s reviewing some of her stuff from school to make sure she hasn’t forgotten too much over the summer break.”

“Okay.”

“And let the dogs out into the yard for me.”

Kiba sighed loudly. “All right, Mum!”

“Don’t you take that tone with me, boy,” Tsume’s voice growled, hinting at aggravation and amusement at the same time.

“Sorry, Mum.”

By this point, everyone was snickering quietly—or in Shino’s case, looking straight- faced, and in Sasuke’s, smirking—and were barely able to keep from laughing out right when Kiba turned and they saw the long- suffering look on his face. Kiba glared at them, which only made the situation more amusing, and Naruto and Ino practically collapsed into laughter, Naruto bracing himself on Sasuke’s shoulder as he tried not to fall down. Sasuke appeared equal parts entertained and annoyed, but let Naruto keep leaning on him as the group moved out of the kitchen and went down to the rec room in the basement of the house while Kiba went to let the family dogs out into the yard.

When Naruto got home that night it was nearly midnight and he was ready for bed. He and the rest of the gang had spent the entire evening and night playing in the yard with the dogs and lighting some firework that Tsume had had lying around in the shed. The dogs hadn’t been particularly impressed with them about that, and had gone off to sulk in the corner of the yard, far away from where the group was waving their sparklers around and generally making a lot of noise.

As he unlocked and opened his door, Naruto nearly missed the note that had been stuffed into the crack between the door and the doorframe as it fluttered to the floor. Bending down, he picked it up and then went into his apartment and locked the door behind him. He put his stick away with one hand and unfolded the note with the other; it was from Iruka. Apparently his old teacher had come to visit while he was out, and had asked Naruto to call him in the morning before he went out to play ball hockey with his friends again.

Naruto stuck the note to his fridge so he wouldn’t forget to call Iruka in the morning, and then headed off to have a shower. He made it quick, as he was bone tired, and then sat in his living room listening to music for a little while and then dragged his sorry little butt off to bed.

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The next morning dawned bright and early, like most of the other mornings that summer had, and far earlier than Naruto had planned. He found himself awake far earlier than he actually wanted to be because he’d forgotten to close his curtains when he had gone to bed the night before. Deciding he may as well get up because there was no way he’d get back to sleep after being so thoroughly woken up, he dragged himself out of bed and went into the kitchen to have some breakfast.

He poured himself a glass of milk and a bowl of maple Mini Wheats and sat down at his kitchen table, his body totally awake even if his mind was still somewhat bleary. Eating his cereal, he reviewed his mental schedule for the day. He had to call Iruka, and then he had planned to meet everyone for hockey again at the one- way street just down the road from his apartment building, where they usually met. He didn’t have to work again today; though he kinda wished he could get more hours there wasn’t really anything he could do about, and he'd already tried finding another job, but no one would hire him.

Dumping his dirty glass and bowl into the sink, he went to get dressed before he called Iruka, because he felt weird talking on the phone to one of his elementary school teachers while only wearing his boxers shorts. Surveying his choice of clothes, he realised he had to do laundry, and pulled out a pair of denim cut- offs and an orange tee shirt to put on.

Dressed, Naruto brushed his teeth and combed his hair, which was an absolute disaster—even more so than normal—because he had gone to sleep on it when it was still wet, and then went back out to the kitchen to call Iruka. He dialled the number from memory and leaned against the counter as he waited for his old teacher to pick up the phone. Finally, he did, and Naruto greeted him with a cheerful “Good morning!” and laughed at Iruka’s amused, gently teasing comment about being up early for once in his life.

A few minutes later, Naruto was hanging up the hone with a sense of impending doom. Back to school shopping. Iruka wanted to—and was indeed determined that he was going to—take Naruto back to school shopping. Naruto hated back to school shopping. Shopping he only generally disliked, because it had to be done but was still slightly aggravating, but he absolutely loathed back to school shopping. With a sigh, Naruto resigned himself to his fate and quickly checked the time before calling Sasuke.

“Hey, Sasuke," he paused. "Yeah, I know you just got up. Look, I’m not going to make it today," another pause. "No. Iruka’s decided he has to take me back to school shopping. Today, yeah, in just a little while." He frowned at the phone. "No, I don’t want to go, bastard. Tell the others for me. I’ll try and come by later," Naruto paused again. "Thanks, bye.”

Naruto sighed again, and then went to make a list of everything he needed to buy for school that he knew of. It didn’t take very long, because he still had a number of things left over from the previous year that were usable, chief among them binders and pens. Some people expected that Naruto wouldn’t take care of his things, but that was a bit stupid of them, in his opinion. He didn’t have the money to buy brand new stuff every year – binders were expensive, and why should he bother buying brand new ones every year when a previous year’s binders would be okay as long as he didn’t trash them? He needed a couple more binders because he wouldn’t be able to double up on subjects any more because they were only one and a half inch binders, but still. It saved him buying four binders; this way he only had to buy two, because he could empty them out for second semester.

Tucking his list in his pocket, Naruto made sure to grab his keys and his wallet—a silly, frog- shaped thing that Iruka had given him as a gift for his ninth birthday that he couldn’t bring himself to throw away r even stop using, though it prompted a lot of teasing from his friends on occasion—and left his apartment. He made sure that the door was locked both at the knob and with the dead bolt, and made a mental note to pick up some lube for the dead bolt while he was out, and then headed down to street level to wait for Iruka to arrive.

It was only a few minutes before Iruka’s blue car pulled up to the side of the road and sat there idling as Naruto went around and climbed into the front seat of the car. He buckled in and locked his door as Iruka pulled away from the curb, and then turned to grin at his former teacher.

“Morning, Iruka!”

“Good morning, Naruto,” Iruka replied, his eyes on the road.

“As much as I hate back to school shopping, I have to says thanks for taking me. Dragging it all home on the bus would have been a huge pain, not to mention people always get sour when I get on with a bunch of bags.”

“Well, that’s not just you, Naruto, trust me. But I know what you mean.”

“Yeah. Oh, I want to get this done as fast as possible, is that okay?”

“That’s fine with me, but you do realise that the store will be pretty much wall to wall people, right? It’s what you get for waiting until two weeks before classes start to do your back to school shopping.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I should do it early in the month just like you do, right?”

Naruto’s tone was put upon and long- suffering, but he couldn’t keep a straight face as Iruka chuckled, and he grinned widely. They settled into a comfortable silence as Iruka weaved expertly through the city traffic, heading towards the mall. When they were nearly there, Iruka broke the silence.

“What exactly do you need to pick up, Naruto?”

Naruto thought for a moment before replying. “I need a couple of binders and a new calculator to start, and some more lined paper. Oh, and a pack of pens, and I need something to lubricate my dead bolt with—it’s sticking really bad.”

“Is that it?”

“Mm, I think so. I’ll check my list when we get out of the car; it’s too big of a pain to get to it right now.”

Iruka turned into the mall parking lot, and Naruto groaned when he saw the number of cars already there, and thumped his head against the passenger side window. Iruka stifled a grin. Finding a parking spot, he pulled smoothly into the space and he and Naruto climbed out of the car and locked the doors. Naruto paused, and eyed the busy mall distastefully.

“I feel like I’m going to my execution,” he deadpanned.

Iruka laughed.

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“Put- upon” seems to be one of my new favourite words, haha. I’d never used it so much until started this fic, and now I want to use it all the time. Oh, and the same for "long- suffering".

Also, I had a couple comments/questions about Sasuke’s characterization, so I feel I should address those. I’ve written him less stick-up-the-ass and cold than his canon self because he’s a bit more normal here. His family is still dead and Itachi still did it, but that manga sub-plot was resolved prior to the beginning of this story. Basically, Sasuke acts more normal because his past, while tragic, just isn’t at the same level of tragic as it is in canon due to differences between the canon Narutoverse and this ’verse. This will be covered further later on, but since I was asked, I thought I should perhaps clear it up now.

ALSO: title suggestions would be most welcome. I have no sweet frigging clue. XD
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Game Three

[fic] NaNo07 novel, currently untitled (1/?) (v1.0)

2007-11-05T03:53:23Z

Fandom: Naruto
Genre: AU, gen, friendship, sports (?)
Rating: PG13 for language
Wordcount: 5037 for this chapter

Disclaimer: I do not own in part or full any aspect of Naruto. This is the property of Kishimoto Masashi-sensei, his relevant partners and subsidiaries. I do own all original aspects of this fanfiction including but not limited to original characters and plot. This fanfiction has been published at no profit, purely for the enjoyment of the fans and the collective good of the series.

Author’s notes: I am not using Japanese in this fic, not even the suffixes (such as “-chan” and “-kun”) because I have not set the story in Japan, nor in the Naruto world; there is no Fire country or Wind Country in this story. The specific setting is not really important, but if you are really that curious about it, then they’re in Random Small-ish City, Insert Province, Canada (yes, Canada). Anything that would normally be expressed through the suffixes (such as the way one particular character addresses another particular character) will be expressed in other fashions – the way they treat each other and the use, misuse, or abuse of nicknames and/or epithets.

<Insert Witty or At Least Vaguely Interesting Title Here>
A Naruto fanfic written for National Novel Writing Month 2007
by inkntendinitis aka caitlin_chan aka Tsuki Yuuki

Game One

If there was one thing Naruto hated, it was traffic. Traffic was noisy and smelly and annoying, but worst of all, it stopped the games. Games such as the one he had just been playing, until some cars came by and they all had to break apart and drag their nets out of the street. Naruto couldn’t see his ball, and had a sneaking suspicion that it had been kicked aside and lost in the grass growing up out of the ditch at the edge of the pavement. He sighed, and then glared ineffectually at the cars driving by until they were finally all gone.

“GAME ON!”

There was a flurry of movement as teens with sticks and teens dragging nets spilled back onto the asphalt, and then someone tossed the previously- considered- missing- in- action ball into the midst of the players, and everything non- essential to the playing of the game was shoved to the back of Naruto’s mind and he charged after it.

The clatter and scrape of wood on pavement, the jeers and taunts and shouts, the scuff of cross trainers on the asphalt, the sun beating down on his bare back; they were all perfectly familiar and Naruto’s favourite part of summer. There was nothing like a good game of ball hockey to completely epitomize why Naruto loved summer break. Okay, so they would play well into autumn, and usually all the way through winter right back into spring and the next summer, but still.

A stick somehow finding its way between Naruto’s feet and sending him crashing down to the pavement interrupted his train of thought, and he cursed loudly in pain as he heard his team mates call for a penalty for tripping. The downside to his preference of playing shirtless in the summer was that he often ended up with frequently- nasty cuts and abrasions when the games got a little rough.

Naruto got to his feet and hissed in pain as he prodded at the wide stripe of road rash on his right forearm, and then at the patch on his right side. Neither was too deep, but they both hurt like hell, and he would need to clean them out; he could see the grit in them, and he had hurt himself enough while playing and then ignored it to know that ignoring tended to be a bad idea.

“I’m gonna have to duck out, guys,” Naruto said as he bent to pick up his stick from where he had dropped it. “This mess needs cleaning, and I have work in a couple hours.”

Sakura stepped forward out of the group and pushed the hair out of her eyes. “I’ll come with you. I should get going anyway, and you will probably need help cleaning that; you’re right- handed. Plus that’ll even up the teams.”

“Thanks, Sakura!” Naruto said brightly, and then winced as he brushed his arm against the road rash on his side.

“Get out of here, you dumb ass,” said Sasuke with a smirk, and Naruto scowled.

“I’m not a dumb ass, you bastard!”

Sakura was quick to step between them. “Both of you, shut up; Naruto, I’ll only help you with that if you come on and go.” That said, she grabbed the wrist of his uninjured arm and stomped off up the hill, dragging Naruto and her hockey stick behind her.

“See you later!” Naruto called, waving at his friends before turning around and increasing his speed so that Sakura was no longer virtually dragging him across the pavement. “No need to drag me like that, Sakura! I’m coming!”

“You weren’t walking fast enough. Besides, wouldn’t you rather clean those out before the start to scab over?” Sakura let go of Naruto’s arm and arched an imperious eyebrow in his direction, daring him to disagree. Not that he would.

Naruto made a face; he knew from experience it was far less pleasant to clean out road rash after it had scabbed. “Er, yeah; that’d be nice.”

He shifted his grip on his hockey stick and slung it over his left shoulder, doing his best to ignore the way his side and arm were burning as some of his sweat trickled down into the shredded and bleeding mess that had been his skin. When the pair reached the top of the hill, they waited for the traffic to stop before darting across the road and into the parking lot in front of Naruto’s apartment building. Naruto fished out his keys and opened the security door for Sakura, before following her in and heading to the stairs. Climbing to the third floor, they exited the stairwell and turned left down the hall to Naruto’s apartment. Sakura held his hockey stick while he forced the dead bolt to accept his key and turn, and he made a mental note to get some thing with which he could lubricate the dead bolt.

Naruto’s apartment was small, containing just one bedroom, a living room, kitchen, and bath room, and it wasn’t exactly on the best side of town, but it was home and had been for two years. Naruto had lived at an orphanage until he was fourteen, when he was finally able to begin to go through the court proceedings to declare himself as an emancipated minor – which he completed, halfway through grade nine, and at the age of fifteen Naruto was able to move out of the orphanage and live on his own.

Since at fifteen he could legally be employed, Naruto had started looking for a job shortly before he had his fifteenth birthday. It took him a few weeks to find one and it would have taken longer if the owner of the small Japanese restaurant down the street from him hadn’t had to fire one of his cooks. The man had known Naruto since he was a child and had offered him the job, having heard that he was looking. It was lucky he did, since none of the other places Naruto had applied had even called him back or acknowledged his applications, though most of them had had signs in the windows indicating that they were looking for help. It was just something Naruto had learnt that he would have to deal with, having come from an orphanage where he had a reputation as a troublemaker and in the process of becoming emancipated and moving out to live on his own.

With a sigh, Naruto shook his head to clear it of the old memories and stepped far enough into his apartment to let Sakura get in as well. He stored his hockey stick away in the entry way closet and toed off his shoes before he headed towards the bathroom.

“Make yourself at home while I get the first aid kit, Sakura. There’s some orange juice and water in the fridge if you want a drink.”

“Like you need to tell me that,” Sakura replied with a grin as Naruto turned the corner to the hallway.

He went down the hall to the bathroom and opened the cupboard, pulling out his first aid kit and being careful not to get blood all over the clean towels and everything else when he reached in, and took it back to the kitchen. Sakura was leaning against the counter and pouring herself a glass of juice, and held the jug up toward Naruto when she saw him.

“Want me to pour you a glass while I have it out?”

“Sure, thanks.”

Naruto pulled out two of the chairs at his kitchen table and sat down heavily in one of them, setting the first aid kit down on the table. He prodded carefully at the flesh around the edges of his abrasions, wincing as he felt that it was already bruising, and took his hand away as Sakura plunked a glass of juice down in front of him and sat down in the other chair. She popped the catches on the first aid kit as Naruto downed a third of his glass of juice in one go and then put the glass down to take a deep breath.

“You know,” Sakura remarked as she started cleaning out the scrape on his ribs with antiseptic wipes, “this would happen a lot less if you would wear a shirt while playing, and the road rash would be a lot milder when it did happen.”

“But I don’t like wearing a shirt while I play!” Naruto said with a sharp intake of breath as the stinging wipe touched a particularly painful spot. “It sticks to me and I get the end of my stick caught up in it!”

“It wouldn’t if you wore less baggy shirts,” Sakura commented, pressing harder than was really needed on the spot she was cleaning.

“Ow, Sakura!” Naruto whined, and she poked his side again sharply. “That hurts!”

“I know. Maybe this will convince you to start not being an idiot.”

“Sakura~! That’s not fair!”

“No,” she said a little sharply as she smeared antibiotic ointment on the wound and then taped the gauze down over it, “I suppose it isn’t. After all, even idiots usually have some sort of self preservation instincts.”

Naruto picked at the end of the tape, a frown on his lips, and then took another drink of juice. Sakura sat up and pulled his injured arm gently towards her, turning it so she has better access to the nasty scrape. She looked at Naruto’s face, and sighed, and rubbed her forehead with her forearm.

“It’s just… one of these days you’re going to really hurt yourself. How many times have you been on crutches and in casts and needed stitches now?” She tore open some more antiseptic wipes and started on the scrape on Naruto’s arm.

Naruto grinned sheepishly and scratched the back of his neck with his free left hand. “Um, I dunno. I lost count when I was around ten or eleven, honestly.”

Sakura snorted and shook her head. “You’re just helping my point here, Naruto.”

“It’s not like most of those were even my fault,” he muttered as his gaze shifted to focus on the fridge.

Sakura’s expression softened as she put down the bloody wipes and opened the tube of antibiotic ointment again. “You’re right, and I’m sorry. But there are a lot of people who wouldn’t mind seeing you get hurt, and what will you do if you get hurt and can’t work for a while?”

Naruto sighed and smiled. “It’s a good thing I have you to remind about important stuff like this, Sakura, or else I think I’d be pretty screwed sometimes.” He knocked back the last of his juice as Sakura reached for the tape.

Sakura smiled back as she taped a piece of gauze down over the abrasion on his right forearm. “Leave those on long enough for some scabs to from, and then you can shower to get ready for work, okay?”

“Yes, Doctor Sakura,” Naruto answered with a cheesy grin, and ducked ineffectually as the pink haired girl hit him lightly up the back side of his head,, and then stood as he said, “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome, Naruto.” She packed away the remaining tape, the nearly empty tube of antibiotic ointment, the other gauze squares, and the leftover antiseptic wipes and closed the kit.

Naruto busied himself gathering up the bloody wipes and the wrappers from the gauze and the used antiseptic wipes and then tossed it all in the kitchen garbage can. While Sakura washed her hands at the kitchen sink, Naruto took the first aid kit back to the bathroom and left it out on the counter next to the sink so he wouldn’t forget to redress his road rash after he got out of the shower. Returning to the kitchen, Naruto filled his kettle at the sink and plugged it in.

“Do you want to stay for a while, Sakura? Have some tea or anything? I’m going to make something to eat while I wait for these to scab over a little bit.”

“Nah, I should probably get going home. I didn’t tell Mum who I was playing with because I didn’t want to hear her bitch about it, and it’s almost lunch so everyone will be heading home and she’ll be expecting me home, too.” Sakura sighed heavily, and then put her dirty juice glass in the sink.

“Don’t worry about it Sakura, it’s okay,” Naruto offered with a slightly sad smile. “I know you don’t feel the same way as your mum does, and that’s all that matter. I don’t need your mother’s approval—it would be nice if she would stop hating me, but I don’t need her approval. I do just fine with out it.”

The water in the kettle was nearly boiling, and Naruto opened the cupboard over the middle of the counter and took out a cup of instant noodles, and then pulled the lid back, turning slightly away from Sakura as he did so. Sakura grabbed his left arm and turned him to face her.

“It is not okay, Naruto, and don’t pretend that it is. I know you don’t like it, and I don’t either. I hate it when she talks down about you; at least my dad keeps his opinions to himself unless he thinks I’m doing something dangerous or stupid or whatever, and I don’t think he’s actually even bothered by my friendship with you. Mum is just going to have to accept the fact that you are one of my best friends one of these days. She doesn’t have any problems with Sasuke, so she shouldn’t have any problems with you.”

Naruto flashed a quick grin before he turned and grabber the boiling kettle and then moved slightly to add the water to his noodles. “But Sasuke is the son of the head of a prestigious family, never mind that the rest of them are dead, and he has a guardian in Kakashi. I’m just a trouble maker that no one has ever wanted, living on my own.”

Sakura waited patiently until Naruto had put the kettle down, and then hit him hard on the shoulder. “Don't you say that, Naruto Uzumaki. You know you have friends now, and don’t tell me you’ve forgotten that Iruka wanted to adopt you but the government wouldn’t let him because he’d have been a single parent. Kakashi only gets to take care of Sasuke because it was in Sasuke’s parents’ wills, and because Sasuke’s parents had clout around here.”

“...Sorry, Sakura.” Naruto rubbed his shoulder a little subconsciously. “It’s just... it’s hard, y’know? All the negativity and stuff all the time; it gets a little bit hard to ignore sometimes.”

Sakura sighed a slightly exasperated, long- suffering sigh. “Oh, Naruto, you don’t need to apologise. You deal with it so well—I don’t think I could ever be you and deal with all the shit that you do as well as you do. I have no idea how you do it.”

Naruto shrugged, grinning a little. “Well, I’m not going to let those assholes who hate me win, am I? And if I’m always miserable, then they win; it pisses them off even more if I exist and enjoy myself, instead of just existing.”

Sakura chuckled. “That’s a very good way of thinking, I think. But I really do need to get going—I’ll probably come by and see you at work later with some of the others, okay?”

She walked across the kitchen to the entryway and bent down to put her cross trainers on; Naruto picked up his cup of noodles and took the top off, tossing it in the garbage, and grabbed something to eat with, then followed her across the kitchen. He scooped up a mouthful of noodles and blew on them to cool them as Sakura finished with her sneakers, and then slurped them down. Straightening, Sakura stretched a little and then grabbed her hockey stick from where she had leaned it in the corner between the door and the little closet before she opened the door into the hallway.

“I’ll see you later, Naruto.”

“Bye, Sakura,” Naruto replied around his mouth full of noodles, “and thanks.”

She smiled at him, “No problem,” and then she was gone, and Naruto wandered back to the kitchen to finish eating his noodles.

It didn’t take him very long, and he washed his utensils and tossed the empty paper cup into the garbage when he was done, and then went into his living room to find something to do while he was waiting for his road rash to scab over enough to shower. A magazine he had been reading earlier was sitting on the milk crate coffee table in front of the couch, but he didn’t really feel like reading, so he crossed the room to his stereo and turned it on.

The machine was tuned to the nearby oldies radio station, one of Naruto’s favourite stations; whenever he had gone anywhere in the car with Iruka, starting from the time they met when he was seven, Iruka had always had his car radio tuned to this station. The oldies were as much a part of his childhood as Popsicles or riding bikes were part of anyone else’s, though Naruto had never had a bike until he got a job and bought one when he was nearly sixteen, so it wasn’t precisely part of his childhood so much as it was part of his adolescence.

It was playing a song Naruto knew well, so he sang along as he moved around the living room, looking for something to occupy himself with; his mind was running a little bit too much to simply sit on the couch and listen to music, and he was too restless to sit down and read or anything else that required him to sit still. Finally, he decided that he should probably clean up a little, because his living room was something of a mess.

        And the sign said, “long haired freaky people need not apply”
        So I tucked my hair up under my hat and I went in to ask him why
        He said, “you look like a fine upstanding young man, I think you'll do,”
        So I took off my hat and said, “imagine that, huh, me working for you!”

        Sign, sign, everywhere a sign,
        Blocking out the scenery breaking my mind
        Do this, don't do that, can't you read the sign?

Picking up the pile of a dozen or so CDs from his coffee table, Naruto carried the over to the shelf that contained his stereo and began putting them away. He had his music shelf sorted first by genre and then alphabetically by artist, because it made it so much easier to find things. Some of his friend teased him about it, most notably Sasuke and Shikamaru, but he didn’t really care because they always had trouble finding a specific CD they wanted to listen to, and he never did. So there.

        And the sign said anybody caught trespassing would be shot on sight
        So I jumped on the fence and yelled at the house, “Hey! what gives you the right?
        To put up a fence to keep me out or to keep mother nature in,
        If God was here, he'd tell you to your face, man you're some kinda sinner!”

        Sign, sign, everywhere a sign,
        Blocking out the scenery breaking my mind
        Do this, don't do that, can't you read the sign?

His CDs away, Naruto placed one hand on his hip as he surveyed the room. It wasn’t dirty, but it was definitely cluttered, and Iruka would probably be showing up any day now for his semi-regular visit, so it would be better if he cleaned up. Iruka always got worried when his living room was a mess for some reason—he seemed to think it meant that Naruto was having problems at work or school. For all that he loved Iruka, the man could be something of a major worrywart, and it did get a little aggravating sometimes. Naruto wouldn’t trade Iruka for the world, though.

        Now, hey you Mister! Can't you read? you got to have a shirt and tie to get a seat!
        You can't even watch, no you can't eat, you ain't suppose to be here!
        And the sign said you got to have a membership card to get inside!

        And the sign said, “Everybody welcome, come in, kneel down and pray.”
        But when they passed around the plate at the end of it all,
        didn't have a penny to pay, so I got me a pen and a paper and I made up my own little sign
        I said, “Thank you Lord for thinking about me, I'm alive and doing fine.”

        Sign, sign, everywhere a sign,
        Blocking out the scenery breaking my mind
        Do this, don't do that, can't you read the sign?

Magazines he had finished reading were picked up as the song ended, and the ones he wanted to keep were put away on the bottom of the shelf that had his stereo on it, and the same for the few books he had dragged out the other day while looking for some hockey statistic or other; he couldn’t remember not what he’d been looking for, but he knew he’d though tit was at least sort of important at the time. The books, magazines, and CDs had made up most of the clutter, so the room already looked better than it had four and a half minutes ago when Naruto had started cleaning, but the floor could do with a sweep.

Naruto went to his hall closet and pulled out the dust mop and did a quick, thorough sweep of the room; dust mops were so much faster than regular brooms because they were so much larger, even though one then had to get a regular broom to sweep up the crap that didn’t stick to the dust mop, which Naruto did quickly. He surveyed the room again, rubbing at his eyes as they seemed to have gotten a little bit of dust in them, and then sighed. He was still bored, and still too restless to want to sit down and do nothing.

Carefully, he peeled back the tape on one corner of the gauze on his arm and examined the scrape – the bleeding had stopped, and when he poked at it gently and cautiously, he could tell that some scabs had formed. He just as carefully checked the patch of road rash on his ribs, and upon finding that the one there had also scabbed over some what, he headed off to have his shower and get cleaned up and ready for his shift at two.

In the shower, Naruto washed quickly and was mindful not to scrub so hard at to tear his fresh scabs, though the soap stung madly when it crept into places that hadn’t scabbed over yet. He made a quick job of his hair as well – his water was metered, so he had to be careful not to let it run, or else he would have a higher water bill than what he had budgeted for at the end of the month.

Finishing up, Naruto shut the water off and hopped out of the shower and towelled off, gently patting dry his road rash to avoid as much pain and blood on his towels as possible. When his arm and side were sufficiently dry, he smeared both wounds with antibiotic ointment and then, with a fair amount of awkwardness and a little bit of contortion, taped two new pieces of gauze down over the injuries. That done, he went to his room to get dressed and finish getting ready for work.

Naruto dug out his favourite pair of orange cargo shorts and a black tee shirt and was once again very glad that he didn’t have to wear a uniform for this job. He would have worn one if he was required to, of course, but in his opinion it was vastly preferential to not have to wear a uniform as opposed to it being required that he wear one. He was certainly more comfortable wearing his own clothes to work.

Clean and dressed, Naruto returned to the kitchen to put together a couple of sandwiches to take to work with him to eat on his break, and to fill a water bottle to take with him as well. Two peanut butter and banana sandwiches packed away into a container and a bottle filled with water later, Naruto was ready to leave for work when it was time. He contented himself with reading the magazine he had started the other day until it was time to go, then packed up his lunch and headed out, making sure to lock the door behind him as he went.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

It was around eight o’clock – getting close to the end of his shift – when Naruto heard some very familiar voices coming from the little lobby of the small restaurant where he worked. Since he didn’t have any orders pending and he knew his boss wouldn’t mind, he popped out of the kitchen to say hello. Sakura was there, as was Sasuke, and Kiba, Hinata, Chouji, and Ino were there as well. They were debating rather loudly about something to do with the game from that morning, though Naruto couldn’t quite be sure what because several of them were talking at once. Hinata jumped when Naruto burst in, as loud and exuberant as ever.

“Hey hey, everyone! Tell me who won after I left!”

“My team,” both Kiba and Sasuke said in unison, and then turned to glare at each other.

Ino snorted. “You’re both wrong: nobody won. Neither side scored at all, so it doesn’t matter.”

“We had more shots on goal,” Sasuke said firmly.

“But the ball spent more time on your side of the road,” Kiba retorted.

“Not a chance.”

“You’re as blind as you are stupid!”

“Considering I’m at the top of our class, I guess that means I have perfect eyesight.”

Hinata interrupted quietly before the argument could go any further. “I think the best way to solve this would be to just continue the game tomorrow.”

“I agree with Hinata,” Chouji said around a chip. “Someone is sure to score tomorrow – we can’t go on forever without someone scoring a goal, after all.”

“Yeah!” Naruto exclaimed, and Hinata blushed slightly. “That’s a great idea, Hinata! All those for Hinata’s idea, say aye.”

“Aye!” chimed in five voices, while Kiba and Sasuke just sat there and frowned.

“The ayes have it,” Sakura said, her tone resolute. “Majority rules, and it’s a good idea anyway.”

“Ball hockey isn’t a democracy,” Sasuke said with a hint of amusement in his voice.

“It is when I say it is,” Sakura responded primly, before she and Ino burst into giggles.

Naruto laughed as well, and then turned back towards the kitchen. “I’d love to stay and chat, but this isn’t what I get paid for and I assume you guys are hungry so I should probably get back there and get ready for whatever you order.”

A chorus of “see ya” and “later” rang out behind him, and he distinctly heard Kiba saying “don’t work too hard” before he was back in the kitchen and the noise of the fridges and the fans and other equipment turned the previously clear voices into a low, familiar murmur.

Sure enough, a couple of minutes later, Ayame came back with orders from his friends, and Naruto got started. He’d already taken out most of what he would need before the orders even came in – they almost always ordered the same things, and had for years. There was certainly something to be said for being comfortable in one’s own routine, that was for sure. Naruto sang along with the kitchen radio almost unconsciously as he cooked up his friends orders, and soon enough they were ready and out of the kitchen.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The song in this chapter is “Signs” by the wonderful Canadian group, Five Man Electrical Band, and those are the official lyrics.

Yes, this was full of shameless padding and isn't as good as my usual stuff - it's NaNoWriMo, what did you expect? I have the rest of the year to edit for quality! XD

I haven't written most of these characters extensively before, so thoughts on my characterization would be greatly appreciated - if they're acting OOC, I want to know. ^__^

Just don't expect me to edit this right away - it's almost midnight, and then I'll have 1667 more words to write! XD

Game Two

[poem] Blocked (v1.0) + critiques from classmates

2007-10-30T01:41:33Z

Title: Blocked
Author: inkntendinitis aka caitlin_chan
Genre: poetry, general
Rating: PG for language

Blank, not quite white.
Faintly tan, I suppose—cream?
A hospital room, cheap hotel,
or empty apartment looks
like this, like pages in a blank book
or an empty Word document;
taunting and flaunting blankness
in my face.

What do I do with this blankness?
Chewing my thumb, I fret, worry—
shit, I’m bleeding; I bit through
my skin. It hurts, and the
emptiness still mocks me, still
sneers at me, derides me.
Spotless, clean, unmarked, blank
Not-quite-white.

I crumple it up, throw it away
so it can taunt no longer.
Not blank, the new one
a smear of red from my bleeding
thumb; less daunting, somehow, than
blank not-quite-white. Ah, I know—
my pen touches paper,
and I begin to write.
===============================
Fourth Creative Writing assignment; to write a poem using a comparison of more than five lines.

All critiques are posted verbatim; even grammar/spelling/phrasing errors or awkwardness are preserved for completeness. (Editing someone else's comments = so not cool, yo.) The one thing I edit is that J.P. always signs his name after the "Slainte" and I'm taking that out for privacy's sake.

“Blocked”: critiques from classmates, alphabetical by last name, professor at the bottom

OK, I’m sure every writer can definitely appreciate this one. I like your metaphors and similes in the first stanza, simple but does justice. I like the whole bleeding thumb that makes the paper that’s still blank, not just blank anymore, now its blank with a bloody mark on it. Haha, anyway, the only thing I can think of is possibly when you said crumple it up, maybe make more an indication that there has been more than one piece of paper crumpled up. Because I know that when I am in a writing block I will throw at least 15 pages out. Not good for the environment I know but it happens.
~J.A.

I feel like you may have had trouble starting this poem based on it contents. Just kidding but really liked the descriptions, the comparisons, the talk of colours and how intimidating blank things can be. I am not so sure on the last two lines though, I think they might be a little cliché.
~C.F.

I am starting to pick up a little bit on what everyone’s style of poetry is in this course, and yours has a very unique flavour; its “stream-of-consciousness-esque”, but there’s also a strange simplicity about it that works in a way that I don’t fully understand yet. What I mean is that you’re able to repeat yourself more often (whether through physical words or just with repeating ideas) than other poets would be able to without becoming redundant because of your style. Anyways, about your poem: I think every writer out there (myself included) knows what writer’s block is like. I found it very ironic that the ending of the poem draws you back to the beginning, because in solving your writer’s block you wrote the poem: a never-ending circle. I enjoyed that circular aspect of the poem. Did this actually happen? You must have been fretting pretty seriously to make your thumb bleed. You might want to stop doing that. My one critique in that the subject matter, while archetypically universal, is perhaps a little cliché. If you agree with me then you handicapped yourself right from the get go just through choosing your topic. It’s very possible, however, that this is just my personal opinion and that I’ll get ridiculed in class if I bring it up. We’ll see. Anyways, good job Caitlin!
~B.G.

As a writer I (everyone in the class, I’m assuming) can totally relate to what you’re describing. I like the blank page being compared to a hospital, the motel, and the apartment, but going o to say “like pages in a blank book” seemed a bit redundant. Hope you have a good trip to Ontario!
~J.G.

I like this piece but I had a few problems with the consistency of your metaphor. The literal level, from what I understand is the empty page that is left by writer’s block. I have no problems with this, but rather with lines 5-6. They appear to be the metaphorical meaning when read but are actually much closer to the literal. The removal of these lines could help extend your metaphor a little longer and avoid some confusion at the end. I really like the cyclical nature of this poem. Since it is about writer’s block the ending is essentially the beginning, which I found to have a sense of irony about it. Very clever. Good job.
~C.H.
PS: No alliteration?

I really enjoyed the subtle humour throughout your poem regarding writers block (which I pray to god is what you’re writing about). The third stanza seemed a little forced to me, particularly with the imagery of blood, but at the same time that strong image really stands out after talking about “blankness” so much and intensifies your poem (I guess you could say I’m on the fence with it”. Try working around with that introduction of blood, but other than there’s not much else to fix. You could also try experimenting with the structure to make some really powerful lines stand out. Nice work!
~C.L.

This poem really describes how I felt the other day trying to write my own poem. You really do make the paper sound incredibly intimidating. I hesitated on the ending though, I thought that might have been cliché, like I had heard it a before. Also one small tiny word, I think I was being picky at this point, was the word in the second line “tan”. For some reason I didn’t like this word as you used it. Its not a big problem by any means, again I’m sure I’m just being picky. I did love the last stanza from line 3-6. Those three lines in that stanza were incredible, they really stood out to me.
~M.P.

I can think of very little to say about this piece it is straightforward and not needing much clarification. Your title tells us everything and then the poem simply illustrates that. Good work. Slainte.
~J.P.

Well, you do quite explain the look of a blank page. However, I fee you might have spent too much time on that, at the cost of other content. Though the blood image was an interesting break, I don’t really think the biting the thumb fits into the poem as a whole. All in all, I think there were some interesting images and ideas here, but the actual presentation might have let it down.
~N.R.

Caitlin, I don’t feel this is one of your stronger poems, you kind of really put a lot of emphasis on the black page and it didn’t feel as though the description came naturally. Though this was a rough assignment and I can see how hard it could be. Also, where did the thumb biting come from? That really through me off. You had some really solid ideas through out there, though perhaps you could just work with some wordplay.
~T.R.

Since my prof wrote her comments on a hard copy of the poem and some were about specific things in certain lines, I’ll identify what line and/or word she was talking about when applicable. Any comment I make for clarification will be in [braces].

Lines one and two: [whole lines] – √ good, I like this
Line five: “like pages in a blank book” – don’t need
Line five: [whole line] – [inserted after “like this”] . <--- end stanza here
Line seven: [whole line] – I think this line would be stronger just as “flaunting blankness”...
Line eight: [whole line] – Could cut this line
Line thirteen: “emptiness” – could end here
Line thirteen and fourteen: “still mocks me, still / sneers at me, derides me.” – same thing more or less
Line fifteen: “blank” – I don’t think you need this when you have “unmarked” already
Line seventeen: “it” – referring to a sheet? A computer screen? : )
Stanza three: [whole stanza] - √ : )

As good of a poem as any that I’ve read about writer’s block, Caitlin. Good effort with the similes. I’m not sure the second stanza needs to be quite as long. Could try as a palindrome. Could do even more with similes.

My notes (from the class discussion of the poem:

Whole poem: circular --> good
Whole poem: insert title somewhere?
Lines 20 and 21: [whole lines] – nice idea
Lines three and four: [whole lines] – good
Line five: “like pages in a blank book” – little redundant
Lines five and six: [whole lines] – cut?
Line ten: [thumb chewing] – good
Line 22: “not-quite-white” – pressure?
Line thirteen: “emptiness” --> simile/metaphor instead?
=======

Some may note my new layout - this is for NaNoWriMo for sure, and maybe longer afterwards, it depends on if I feel like changing it. *trudges off grumbling about classmates under her breath*

[fic] [50scenes] The Nature of Grief

2007-10-17T04:06:35Z

Title: The Nature of Grief
Author: inkntendinitis aka caitlin_chan
Genre: drama, gen, friendship
Rating: G
Word count: 323
Characters: Sora, Riku

Sora saw Riku’s reflection in the window before heard his approach, but remained where he was, staring out the window at the island. Riku stepped quietly into Sora’s room and crossed the floor to sit on the bed. Sora turned his head slightly in Riku’s direction, but kept his eyes on the island.

“Your mum called my place,” Riku said, tone soft and even. “Dad told me. I’m sorry.”

Sora said nothing in return, and Riku didn’t know what else to say, so silence descended, thick and heavy. Riku shifted on the bed, moving to sit cross-legged next to Sora and joined him in staring out the window. It was sunset, the red sky reflecting on the calm ocean, but Riku could make out very few details of the island.

“He was the first person to take us to the island,” Sora blurted out, his voice loud in the quiet room. “Do you remember, Riku?”

“Of course I do.” Riku reached out and touched his fingers to the cool glass of the window. “It was just after Mum died.”

“Yeah,” came the murmured response, “you wouldn’t forget. Sorry.”

Riku turned to look at Sora and shook his head. “It’s okay.”

Sora met his friend’s gaze for the first time since he’d arrived, and nodded after a moment. “Thanks for coming over.”

“He was practically my grandfather, too.”

“I wasn’t sure if you’d rather stay home with your dad.”

Riku shook his head. “Dad barely knew him.” He nudged Sora gently with his elbow. “Besides, I’ve left you when you needed me enough for a lifetime. I won’t do it again, and you can hold me to that.”

“Thanks, Riku.”

With a shuddering sigh, Sora leaned over and laid his head on Riku’s shoulder as he started to cry. Riku wrapped an arm around his shoulders and rested his cheek on the top of his head, dampening Sora’s hair as his own tears fell.

==========================

Prompt 011: Cry

Started: 10.09.2007
Completed: 10.11.2007

[fic] Nobody Ever Died of Laughter

2007-10-06T07:35:50Z

Title: Nobody Ever Died of Laughter
Author: inkntendinitis

Genre: drama, general,
Rating: PG
Word count: 1185
Characters: primarily Uzumaki Naruto, mentions of a number of others

I requested Naruto on 20_truths and I wrote this even though I haven't been approved yet. They haven't approved a single claim request since May, so I'm doing it anyway.

1. Naruto is five years old the first time he notices the looks that the other villagers give him. He goes home to his new apartment where everything is too big and too high and too quiet—because at least there were other kids around him at the orphanage, even if they wouldn’t play with him—and spends the next hour standing on a chair he dragged into the bathroom, examining his face in the mirror.

At the end of the hour, he still can’t figure what makes them hate him.

2. Naruto is nine years old when Umino Iruka takes over his class, though he doesn’t know that the teacher Iruka-sensei replaces is leaving because he refuses to continue teaching the Kyuubi vessel.

3. The first thing Iruka-sensei says to Naruto in private is after class on the Friday of his first week. He asks Naruto to stay behind, and then offers to help him with his reading. He doesn’t mention that he knows the reason Naruto can’t read is because his teachers refused to teach him.

4. Of all the things Iruka-sensei has ever taught Naruto, his ability to read is the second most precious to him.

5. The first is what Iruka-sensei taught him about bonds.

6. “The bond between the people important to you ever since birth and the string that binds them becomes thicker and stronger as time goes by.” Naruto lives for these words even more than he lives for his dream of becoming Hokage.

A Hokage is nothing without bonds.

7. The day Sasuke left was one of the top three worst days of Naruto’s life. The day he discovered that the Akatsuki had kidnapped Gaara is another. The day Gaara died would have made it, too, except that Chiyo-baa-sama brought him back. It was still a crappy day, though. The day the Sandaime died is the third.

Some would think it surprising that the day he discovered he held the Kyuubi inside him isn’t one of the three, but his friends know him better. That day was the day he found out why people hated him, but it was also that day he discovered that Iruka-sensei liked him despite his connection to the Kyuubi. That was the day he obtained his first precious person.

8. Naruto is sixteen the day he finally becomes a chuunin, eighteen when he becomes a jounin, and he joins the ANBU at nineteen.

Six months later, he and his teammates Haruno Sakura, Sai, and Hyuuga Neji bring a bloody, unconscious, victorious Uchiha Sasuke back to Konoha. This marks Sasuke’s permanent return to Konoha and the end of the Akatsuki.

9. Naruto is one of those assigned as Sasuke’s guards during his first two years back in Konoha.

Naruto knows it isn’t really necessary. With Itachi dead, Sasuke no longer has a reason to leave the village. Tsunade knows it, too, but she follows the protocol anyway. It ended up being the least she could do to assign as guards people who knew him, though more for their sake than Sasuke’s.

10. The day Sasuke is finally accepted as a full Leaf ninja again is the day Tsunade announces her successor.

Naruto is twenty-one when he discovers he will become the Rokudaime Hokage, and Tsunade gave him the best gift possible.

11. When Naruto finally realised that his dream was actually coming true, he was in the middle of sparring with Sasuke and he sat down right where he stood.

The fact that he sat down in the middle of a pond and ended up soaking wet is something that nobody will ever let him live down.

12. Naruto’s biggest surprise at his inauguration as Hokage was when he entered the office—his office—for the ceremony and found Sabaku no Gaara and both of his siblings there. Everybody had worked to keep it a secret from him, and Naruto teared up a little as the full extent of how much he loved his friends washed him.

Then Lee exploded into excited declarations of all sorts and Naruto couldn’t help but laugh. Lee had apparently been holding it in ever since it was decided to keep Gaara’s trip a secret, and Naruto’s almost surprised he made it.

Almost.

13. Naruto’s first few months as Hokage are full of tests. The Council tests his temper and patience and diplomacy (he has Hinata advise him on that), the villagers test his willingness to protect them, and some of his subordinates test the limits of how much they can get away with ignoring him.

He passes them all with flying colours. The Council learns that he really isn’t as dumb as he seems, the villagers learn that he really will defend them to his death, and his subordinates learn that trying to ignore him will get them the most annoying and dirtiest missions.

Or pranked.

14. Naruto refuses to assign his shinobi missions that may be beyond their capabilities just because he’s angry with the way they’re treating him, because he knows that that won’t help.

Besides, the pranks really are a lot more satisfying.

15. Naruto understands now that no matter how much he hates it and what it stands for, the Hyuuga Clan seal is necessary for the protection of the bloodline limit.

That’s why he immediately approves Hinata’s plan to make the seal mandatory for all Hyuuga Clan members.

16. When Naruto and Gaara decide they need to have a permanent, live-in diplomatic envoy in each other’s villages, Naruto decides to send Aburame Shino and Gaara sends Matsuri, his first student.

The next time Naruto and Gaara meet for trade negotiations and to reaffirm their alliance, they spend all night swapping stories of their adventures with their respective diplomats.

Shino’s kikaichu are apparently very similar to a poisonous breed of beetle found in Suna and have caused several small-scale panics, and Matsuri can’t understand for the life of her the obsession that so many of the toughest shinobi in Konoha seem to have with babies.

17. When Naruto is twenty six, Hatake Kakashi retires from active duty. At forty, he’s been serving Konoha as a chuunin or higher for thirty four years and has lost many of his precious people; Naruto can easily justify granting him his retirement.

It still feels like the end of an era.

18. Naruto sees all his of friends age much faster than he seems to age himself. Tsunade says that the Kyuubi will keep his body young for years and years to come.

19. When Jiraiya dies, Naruto isn’t surprised that Tsunade dies only weeks after him. He was her last love.

He doesn’t cry at their funerals, and doesn’t mope around, because he knows they’d return from the grave just to kick his ass into gear if he did.

20. Naruto never leaves Konoha, not really. Even after his precious people’s grandchildren and great-grandchildren have grown, he only ever leaves for a few months at a time.

For some people, the road begins in Konoha.

For Uzumaki Naruto, Konoha is where the road will always end.

===================

That's that, then. Except for number fifteen, I wrote this whole thing tonight (as well as that Sora/Riku drabble further down) even though I probably should have been doing schoolwork. XD Fifteen just popped into my head and is what spawned this whole spiel. Concrit and all other comments are appreciated. ^__^

[drabble] Dynamics

2007-10-06T06:18:56Z

Title: Dynamics
Author:

inkntendinitis aka caitlin_chan
Genre: romance, lemon-y, yaoi
Rating: R
Pairing: Sora/Riku
Word count: 100
Cut because not everyone wants to read about gay boys and sex. XD Probably NSFW, but not a graphic lemon. Lemon-flavoured, perhaps.

EDIT, 12.03.07: Due to LJ's new Adult Concept/Adult Content policies, I've had to change the settings on this entry.

When Sora and Riku make love, Sora is always in control.

Riku takes him when Sora says; touches him, strokes him, kisses him, gropes him, makes him come when he says.

Riku’s just fine with that.

When Sora tells Riku he can come, he comes.

Sora tells Riku that he’s hot, he’s sexy, he loves him, he wants him; Riku believes him.

Riku says the same things to Sora; Sora believes him.

Their relationship is deeper than many, built on shared experiences and pain and longing and love.

Riku gives Sora all of himself without question.

Sora does the same.

================

Well, that's it. Let me know what you think. ^^ Please.

New prompt table for 50scenes

2007-10-05T18:26:24Z

Changing my prompt table for 50scenes, because I'm absolutely stuck with my original choice of table. New table below!

I think I shall be more successful with this one, as I already have ideas. ^___^

*off to write*

001.	Sleep.	002.	Love.	003.	Pain.	004.	Sand.	005.	Glass.
006.	Church.	007.	Moonlight.	008.	Happiness.	009.	Tears.	010.	Writer's Choice.
011.	Cry.	012.	Silence.	013.	Sun.	014.	Sing.	015.	Twist.
016.	Empty.	017.	Blossom.	018.	Harp.	019.	Control.	020.	Writer's Choice.
021.	Psychotic.	022.	Hope.	023.	Alone.	024.	Viridian.	025.	Gasp.
026.	Smirk.	027.	Piece.	028.	Fly.	029.	Elope.	030.	Writer's Choice.
031.	Moment.	032.	Eternal.	033.	Wish.	034.	Darkness.	035.	Poem.
036.	Sick.	037.	Turbulence.	038.	Malevolence.	039.	Sugar.	040.	Writer's Choice.
041.	Embrace.	042.	Dark Eyes.	043.	Hands.	044.	Youth.	045.	Ignored.
046.	Mistake.	047.	Stars.	048.	Pluto.	049.	Fortune.	050.	Writer's Choice.

Critiques from classmates: "On Siblings" (v1.0)

2007-10-03T04:16:51Z

All critiques are posted verbatim; even grammar/spelling/phrasing errors or awkwardness are preserved for completeness. (Editing someone else's comments = so not cool, yo.) The one thing I edit is that J.P. always signs his name after the "Slainte" and I'm taking that out for privacy's sake.

Note: when I submitted this poem to the class, the title was "Love", because I hadn't had the time or inclination to come up with anything better. XD

“On Siblings” (formerly “Love”): critiques from classmates, alphabetical by last name; professor at the bottom

This was a very enjoyable poem. I liked how the whole poem had nothing to do with love. Then in the last line you find out that really is what it’s all about.
The only thing I do think is that, even though you do have love in the end, maybe since this is supposed to be about the subject maybe talk more about love throughout the poem. That would ruin the whole poem though so I guess leaving it the way it is makes more sense.
~J.A.

I really liked the end of the poem and the closing line “Yeah, that” as it indicates the inability to use the word live. I also really enjoy the imagery in the beginning as you describe through experiences the relationship between the siblings. I think the line ‘team up against supper” could be clearer and more poignant, as it can be interpreted in a couple of ways (i.e. you eat a lot together, you both don’t like the supper, etc)
~C.F.

You really capture the fickle but unflagging love that exists between siblings. Your content is very accurate, and I can tell that you are writing straight out of personal experience. I can even detect a slight feeling of victim hood emanating from, I guess, the ‘sister’ in this relationship (which I would assume to be you), through lines such as: “Playing happily, only the smallest / amount of bickering. / Until he shoves a handful of snow / down my back.” Even this (which is somewhat of a personal bias) is extremely accurate of a true brother-sister relationship, because both will feel victimized in some way at some time. The spirit of camaraderie was very strong in this poem, and, though some of the content was very violent, the tone lived up to the light and fluffy connotations of the poem. My one suggestion for you would be to somehow strengthen the fourth stanza. The couplet seems flat to me, despite the alliteration, perhaps because of the diction. I would find new words especially for the first line in that couplet; I think that’s the line that’s bothering me. Very well done, Caitlin!
~B.G.

Your poem rocks! This was such a relatable poem (at least for me, as a middle child). “Alliances forgotten” and “An hour later, we’ve forgotten | and we team up against dinner” –these lines hit especially close to home. Snow forts with the bread pans was a really nice image. The only thing that didn’t really work for me was the emboldened text, although I think I see what you’re doing with that.
~J.G.
[Note: We (the class) decided that J.G.’s computer is possessed. As you saw, there was no bold line in the version I posted here, nor was there in the version I sent to the class. When he saved my poem to his computer and then opened it, it randomly bold and increased the font size for one line. I think it was “Until he shoved a handful of snow”, but I could be remembering wrong.]

I was wondering who was going to be the first person to do this one. Guess I know now. Reading through the various titles i noticed that most of the ideas could fall beneath the glow or shadow of “Love”. I’m going to start from the end here i think. I LO- the last line. Very clever line that keeps with the flirtatious nature of the poem. It was interesting how you framed the concept in seemingly unloving situations without making the scenes seem truly hostile or genuinely hate-filled. The back and forth nature, friends to foes, is also a neat twist and the way it seems to unfold over a lengthy period also works. Yeah, that definitely works. Good job.
~C.H.

This is a really unique approach at describing love. When most writers would have gone with the traditional (and mundane) description of adult love, you chose to simplify it with the love between children. Even though that love may be simple, at the same time it’s very complex, because children view the world in such an innocent way. I loved the little scenarios throughout the poem, as they really rang true to my own childhood. I would take out the last two words of “Yeah, that”; while it’s a nice touch with some dry humour I also find it takes away from the punch of the last stanza.
Very nice work!
~C.L.

It really seems like you understand the bond of siblings. I enjoyed the “fling eloquent R-rated insults.” I laughed like crazy over this line, not only is it true, but also it somehow manages to fit together even though it shouldn’t. I do have to say I wasn’t sure of the 4th stanza that is only two lines; this doesn’t fit with the rest of the poem with its longer stanza. I wasn’t sure if I really liked your ending or not, however it is suitable for the way you’ve lead up to it.
~M.P.

[hand written] Cliché – raw winter?
I really like the angle you take in this piece it’s a great way to look at love. Not all sugar coated and hard to choke down its real, you can feel it in this piece. The only thing I might say is in my opinion the last little bit doesn’t seem to work. I think the poem would be just as strong without the lo, lo yeah that bit but maybe that’s just me. Slainte.
~J.P.

This was a really effective piece. I felt it strongly carried the emotion throughout the poem, and was very effective at evoking similar feelings from the reader. I think the real strength of this piece is the sympathetic reaction I experienced while reading it, though that is of course going to be personal to the individual reader. The end of the poem is especially effective at this. The alliteration works much better here as well.
~N.R.

Makes me want to have siblings, but happy I’m an only child at the same time; a fun, easy to read poem written so that it’s fun to read. Well don, I love the description between a brother and sister. To be honest when I read the word love I was expecting a cliché ridden, romance that has been done thirty times before. It caught me off guard and I’m glad it did. Well written, well said and well done. It’s poems like this that make me look like an under achiever.
~T.R.

Since my prof wrote her comments on a hard copy of the poem and some were about specific things in certain lines, I’ll identify what line and/or word she was talking about when applicable. Any comment I make for clarification will be in [braces].

Stanza one: [whole stanza] – are they younger children here, as the second stanza would suggest, or adults?
Line six: [whole line] – I’m not sure you need this line at all
Line seven: “together” – ? [Yes, she really just circled the word and put a question mark above it. XD]
Lines eight and nine: [whole lines] – great!
Line ten: “happily” – watch adverbs, maybe “happy”
Line eleven: “bickering.” – no period
Line twenty: [whole line] – ––––– ? [Yes, a huge line with a question mark at the end was her note. XD]
Line 21: [whole line] – X [This means she didn’t like it very much and thinks it should be cut.]
Line 22: [whole line] – √ [As a checkmark, not the mathematical operator it really is; means she liked it.]
Lines 26, 27, 28: [whole lines] – √ √ : ) [Smiles mean that she really, really liked it.]
Lines 26, 27, 28: [whole lines] – I love the playfulness of the ending

I like this poem of snits[?]. There’s a real vitality + wit in your writing. I think you need to find a way, though, to give us a bit more of an idea of how old the two people are in these snapshot stanzas (which, by the way, more or less work as a structuring device).

[I’m pretty sure the word she wrote is “snit”, but her handwriting is... messy at the best of times. XD]

My notes (from the class discussion of the poem, in my shorthand because I’m evil like that):

Line six: [whole line] – cut? Maybe not, ties w/1st line
Line seven: “together” – cut
Line twenty: “against” – unclear; r.w.
Stanza four: [whole stanza] – needs upgr/+ pressure/maybe cut?
Line 21: [whole line] – weak line, probably cut
Line 22: [whole line] – move to 2nd stanza? Cut? Sonics + image = good... work in s.w. else?
Line 28: [whole line] – takes away fr. 27? Or not? Maj. = not

[poem] Optimum Angle: 20° (v1.0) + critiques from classmates

2007-10-03T03:55:34Z

Title: Optimum Angle: 20°
Author: inkntendinitis aka caitlin_chan
Genre: poetry, general
Rating: G

I flick my wrist,
release my grip,
watch it fly away.
It hits once and—
sinks.

I watch Dad.
One, two, three...
want to be
as good as him...
Seven, and it sinks.

Another one:
smooth, round, flat.
Flick, release, watch:
One, two, three, sink.
Getting better.

Another and another,
I keep flicking, releasing,
Watching them
Sink, sink, sink.
I’ll get it next time.

Last one before we leave:
Perfect oval, fits in the
Palm of my hand.
Finger curls around the edge,
Flick, release, watch.

One, two, three...
It keeps going...
Six, seven, sink.
I grin, look at Dad,
He looks back, smiles.

“Great skips.”
===================
Third Creative Writing assignment; we had three different options and I chose "What was one of the best things that happened to your body when you were a child? (This can be as ordinary as learning how to walk, swim, or skate.)"

Could you guys tell that it was about skipping stones? There was some confusion in class about that... I ended up getting to discuss my poem a bit even though it wasn't my half of the class' turn to get workshopped, because we finished Group A (the smaller group) early, and my prof asked me if I wanted to read my poem. ^^ Lucky!

All critiques are posted verbatim; even grammar/spelling/phrasing errors or awkwardness are preserved for completeness. (Editing someone else's comments = so not cool, yo.) The one thing I edit is that J.P. always signs his name after the "Slainte" and I'm taking that out for privacy's sake.

“Optimum Angle: 20°”: critiques from classmates, alphabetical by last name, professor at the bottom

OK, it took till the very end of this poem for me to realize what it was actually about. I don’t know if that is a horrible thing or not. But when I read it the second time I probably should have known right away. I really do like it though. Especially the last stanza: the success! You gave great description about how to hold the rock throughout the poem. Very good stuff. There really aren’t any thing I can say to critique the poem except for maybe throw in something else, like your getting impatient with yourself or your obsession for getting more than 5 skips- I know I would stay there until I got as many
~J.A.

Good job! I really like the description of the skipping, the movements involved, and the relationship that was established: a girl who looks up to her dad and wants to be like him. I also thought the title was clever because it relates well, and in a sense, explains the poem. The only thing I found confusing was that with the description at the beginning I almost felt like they were fishing instead of rock skipping. The last line was the one that made it clear to me.
~C.F.

One thing I liked about this poem was that it had a very rhythmic and repetitive feel that, despite the high frequency, does not come across as overpowering or overdone. Through your use of counting the skips as well as the type of refrain you use (“Flick, release, watch”) I could really picture you standing there beside your father skipping stones and getting better each time. Once again this week your poem was a ‘feel good’ poem, and that is surprisingly hard to do given the somewhat depressing nature of things at times, so congratulations for that. I liked your title too: “Optimum Angle: 20 Degrees.” Your title really drew me into the poem. I don’t really have any critique for you, positive or negative, but I think that will be alright with you. Great job!
~B.G.

Amazing poem, Caitlin! You describe such a great moment between father and child, and you do it al without using words like rock or stone or lake or water or skipping. Well done! I was confused at first—I was visualizing fly fishing—but eventually it all clicked for me. Sets of three were nice, possibly too much after awhile, but don’t quote me on that. I’m not positive on that. The only line that didn’t really work for me—and again, it feels like this sort of line that I might come around to with time—was the line one. Maybe knowing the age of the child would make “Great skips” work for me?
~J.G.

It took me about a verse and a half and i knew exactly what this was about. The way this poem grows, keeping some aspects of the previous verses, works really well. The words “Perfect oval” seems to foreshadow the ending, at least for me. Not a whole lot to say other than good job and keep up the nice work.
~C.H.

Just like a lot of poems this week, such a simple subject really does require a simple method of telling the story, and you do that here with the way you wrote this poem. It’s such an innocent childhood memory that the small, short stanzas coupled with the description of learning how to skip a rock really work here. I’m wondering if maybe a line or two needs to somewhat address the title; I could pretty much determine what you meant here, but I do think the poem could benefit by addressing the title.
~C.L.

I like the first stanza best. The poem is very smooth to read I found. I like how you ended it; the dialogue really ends it well. I’m not sure that the title is really the best it could be for this poem. Well I have no suggestions really I just found that it could be more affective if it was different somehow. I found it amusing that there are 6 stanzas and then on the seventh the poems ends. Was this intentional? It’s very clever.
~M.P.

First off I really enjoyed your concise lines it made for an enjoyable read. I am slightly confused at to what prompt it is you are expressing. It has great childhood memory written all over it, but perhaps a little more exploration into the physicality of it might help? You have a great memory represented but exploring the body in this memory would take it that much farther. Slainte.
~J.P.

It’s cute, a nice little story. There is some use of repetition to carry the reader through the piece. Not much to say other than that.
~N.R.

Not your best Caitlin, it was simple and you could see the scene you were trying to describe but all in all it didn’t really say anything. You never really took any risks in writing it and it kind of just went on in a predictable manner. I could relate to it and flowed really well though so don’t change the flow, but try and play with the word play a little and spice it up a tad.
~T.R.

Since my prof wrote her comments on a hard copy of the poem and some were about specific things in certain lines, I’ll identify what line and/or word she was talking about when applicable. Any comment I make for clarification will be in [braces].

Title: Optimum Angle: 20° – √ good title
First stanza: [whole stanza] – √ strong
Second stanza: [whole stanza] – I’m liking this, though at this point, I’m not sure if this refers to a kite or a ball, but
maybe that’s okay...
Stanza three: [whole stanza] – √
Stanza four: [whole stanza] – I’m not sure if you need this stanza
Line 24: “Fingers” – my (?)→ [This was written to the left of this line, so the arrow pointed to “Fingers”.]
Stanza seven: [whole stanza] – √
Line 30: “He looks back, smiles.” – [circled the full stop] – try a dash

I like how much compression you’ve achieved here, Caitlin. This is well done, pretty well ‘there’, I think. A few minor quibbles. Nice poem.

[It's very high praise from my prof for her to say that something is "pretty well 'there' ", because she is the self-proclaimed Queen of Cutting (that is, removing lines/words), and edits a LOT.]

[poem] Gate to Hell (v1.0) + critiques from classmates

2007-10-02T01:33:22Z

Title: Gate to Hell
Author: inkntendinitis aka caitlin_chan
Genre: poetry, tragedy
Rating: PG-14

“A warm wind began to blow. Here and there I saw small fires, like elf-fires, smouldering. Nagasaki had been completely destroyed.”

–Yamahata Yosuke

Gate to the Sacred stands alone against the smoke-filled sky
battered (beaten) burnt; colour changing from Sanctified Vermilion
dark dirty desecrated black and grimy gritty grey

invisible to the eye now: shrine of Eight Million Gods
fragile fragmented fiery fractions of ruined lives – see them?
(beautiful?) broken ugly unsightly shattered shards of wood

is that a child’s body, flesh cracked cooked charred?
is it Mother’s carcass corpse cadaver there on the ground?
twisted tangled trapped limbs or maimed mangled melted debris?

scarred splintered shivered stone foundation without its walls
beams pointing protruding (prostrate) to the sky (upon the ground)
the wind wails whispers whimpers winds and weaves through invisible walls

Gate to the Sacred stands alone against the smoke-filled sky
battered (beaten) burnt; colour changing from Sanctified Vermilion
dark dirty desecrated black and grimy gritty grey: Gate to Hell

==========================
My first assignment for Creative Writing class: to find and image and then write the image in a poem, to try and describe it in a poem so that someone reading would be able to picture it in their mind's eye.

It was a really good write, even though the third line of the fourth stanza gave me a hell of a lot of trouble. I spent something like an hour on coming up with that fourth line, and then the_bookwyrm said what about something with wind so it would tie in with my epigraph.

Image one (stanzas one, two, and five)
Image two (stanzas three and four)

The photos I wrote from were taken by Yamahata Yosuke, and were taken in Nagasaki on August 10, 1945, a day after the bomb was dropped. Yamahata was diagnosed with cancer of the duodenum when he was forty-eight, and died before his forty-ninth birthday. The cancer was probably caused by the radiation he absorbed while he was in Nagasaki shooting these photos.

EDIT: meant to note this before, but all critiques will be posted verbatim; even grammar/spelling/phrasing errors or awkwardness is preserved for completeness. (Editing someone else's comments = so not cool, yo.) The one thing I edit is that J.P. always signs his name after the "Slainte" and I'm taking that out for privacy's sake.

“Gate to Hell”: critiques from classmates, alphabetical by last name; professor at the bottom

    The first thing I can say is that this is a horrible image. I hope I never have to see something like that personally in my life.
    On the brighter side of things I liked your use of alliteration. It really helped describe the fire and the destruction the fire caused. I also like the series of questions, making you wonder what really is going on in the picture.
The whole gate to hell makes me wonder. Are the people who are burnt going to the gate to hell, or the gate the heaven? I know that fire can be a representation of hell but am confused if the people who died are good or evil. That may not even have anything to do with it, just a wonder that popped in my head.
~J.A.

I really enjoy the alliteration in this poem because it creates a sort of rhythm. I also really like the repetition of the first and last verses as it adds it makes the poem seem more profound. Also key is that extra phrase “Gateway to Hell” as it helps tie the poem all together, integrates the title and puts the events of the poem in a certain context. The only thing I wasn’t so sure on was the descriptions of the corpses of the mother and child. Although I think they were powerful descriptions I also think that these images and descriptions are becoming a little bit cliché in art and writing that deals with war and disaster.
~C.F.

I liked how you bridged two strings of alliteration in the third line with a ‘b’ sound. That insert prevented me from being overwhelmed by the similar sounds in that instance. In other instances, however, the alliteration was a little too over the top. That being said, the oral potency of the words in your poem when said out loud in a confident voice was very effective in describing the gruesome destruction of an entire Japanese city. In some places I found the brackets excessive and unneeded. I really appreciated the opening quote.   It gave me the perspective to truly see the power of the poem. Good job!
~B.G.

Really graphic and descriptive. I loved all the great synonyms, especially the way they were set up in sort of triplets. In the Bible, isn’t there some association between the devil and the number three? If so, that was a really effective device in your poem.
~J.G.

The quote before the poem was a really nice touch. It helps set the tone before the piece actually begins. The use of alliterative synonyms throughout was the 'it factor' in this poem. I don't know if you learned that technique from another artist or came up with it yourself, but it works. I'm not quite sure the significance of the bracketed words as many seem to follow your established alliteration pattern. Great piece that flows well and creates a chaotic image in the mind's eye. Very nice.
~C.H.

I always enjoy a title that really captures my attention from the moment I read it, and I found that you really hit the target with this title. As I read the poem a few times I enjoyed it more and more each time, and I really have to say that you are a very talented writer. I could completely envision the image you’re describing. I can’t for the life of me remember the technical term for repeating the first letter of a word for three words in a row (such as “grimy gritty grey”) but I find myself a little torn between whether I like it or not. On the one hand it’s good that you kept using it throughout the entire poem, as if you had just used it a few times it would seem unnecessary and really odd, but here it doesn’t seem that way. I guess I like it, as I do find it added a little bit of extra “oomph” to the poem. You might try taking one or two out though, and see if it still works, as I can’t get the feeling of “overuse” out of my head. In any case, very well done!
~C.L.

The alliteration was unexpected. Some places I really liked where the alliteration was placed such as “dark dirty desecrated black and gritty grimy grey”. Other places it wasn’t as affective. The use of the words in the alliteration sometimes didn’t work: “Carcass corpse cadaver”. I noticed the lack of capitals, except on important words, and the lack of punctuation. This was done well for it looks intentional not accidental.
~M.P.

You really do a great job of conveying a completely destroyed landscape. I enjoyed how you ask questions. I also enjoyed how you put descriptors into groups of three for emphasis (well not always three). Further on that note however, I feel you chose words that were close but slightly different for all the trios except for in line 8 perhaps this could be revisited, I felt carcass, corpse, cadaver were much to close unlike the other but perhaps this is just me.
~J.P.

Though the initial feeling of this poem was well conveyed, I felt a number of elements seriously detracted from it. Specifically, the alliteration used often became much more of a detractant than a benefit. Continual use of series of synonyms was very distracting, taking away from the overall affect of the poem. A single well chosen word can have much more effect than an endless barrage of slightly varied images. As well, the use of parenthesized words or lines seemed presumptuous within the poem. It took away from the devastation inherent in the image to be constantly contradicted by what felt like the author’s addendums. While I liked the initial idea of the contradiction between Gate to the Sacred and Gate to Hell, I felt that the style choices in this piece hurt it’s overall effect.
~N.R.

Easily one of the best destructive scenes I’ve ever read. Truly encompasses the reader to ever aspect of a horrific aftermath within the poem itself. The parenthesis confused me quite a bit as they were used numerous times. But all in all a truly great portrayal helps the reader gain a grasp of the terrible event that took place, and you did it splendidly, great work.
~T.R.

Since my prof wrote her comments on a hard copy of the poem and some were about specific things in certain lines, I’ll identify what line and/or word she was talking about when applicable. Any comment I make for clarification will be in [braces].

Line one: great sonics
Line two: “(beaten)” – not needed; “Sanctified Vermillion” – why caps?
Line five: “see them?” – I like this
Line five: [whole line] – okay, now I think you’re overdoing the alliteration.
Line eight: “carcass corpse cadaver” – same thing [that is, overdoing the alliteration]
Line eleven: “(prostrate) to the sky (upon the ground)” – see note below
Stanza five: [whole stanza] – great, see note below

Lots of strong elements here, Caitlin. The alliteration begins to distract, though. The parentheses become distracting, too.
Lovely sound – just try to think about proportion + balance – i.e. how much is too much?
I really like how you’ve handled this poem.
Great start, Caitlin.

Icons!

2007-09-26T04:19:38Z

Mwahaha! An icon post! (Can you guys tell I've been stockpiling stuff to post here? XD)

Thirty icons/bases total:
[21] Naruto
[08]Digimon Adventure 02
[02] Naruto bases

Teasers:

ICONS:

BASES:

I only cropped this from a screencap, so no credit required for this base.

I would ask that you please credit me for this base, as I cropped, resized, and coloured it from this manga page, and it took me several hours. ^^

The Neji icons were mostly made for tonko_ni, but other people can use them, too. They were just made with her in mind. ^_^

I hope you enjoy these icons; comments/constructive criticisms totally welcome. :D

50scenes Prompt table

2007-09-25T13:46:10Z

001.	Worms.	002.	Vow.	003.	Bleed.	004.	Sore.	005.	Redeemer.
006.	Violence.	007.	Sheep.	008.	Temptation.	009.	Spiral.	010.	Writer's Choice.
011.	Change.	012.	Iris.	013.	White.	014.	Sober.	015.	Question.
016.	Salt.	017.	Buried Alive.	018.	Embrace.	019.	Under.	020.	Writer's Choice.
021.	Cage.	022.	Unforgiven.	023.	Meditate.	024.	Dust.	025.	Unaffected.
026.	Trauma.	027.	Seduction.	028.	Drowning.	029.	Vital Signs.	030.	Writer's Choice.
031.	Pixie.	032.	Doll.	033.	System.	034.	Encounter.	035.	Lithium.
036.	Ideal.	037.	Pretense.	038.	Fear.	039.	Facade.	040.	Writer's Choice.
041.	Grief.	042.	Trickster.	043.	Entwined.	044.	Half.	045.	Coarse.
046.	Saliva.	047.	Closer.	048.	December.	049.	Grace.	050.	Writer's Choice.

The prompt table for my claim of Sora/Riku friendship over at 50scenes. Prompts will be updated with links to scenes as they are written.

[poem] On Siblings (v1.0)

2007-09-25T03:26:31Z

Title: On Siblings
Author: inkntendinitis aka caitlin_chan
Genre: poetry, general
Rating: G

Whispered plans and secret alliances
crash down like the lamp we
knocked off the table.
“Wasn’t me!”
“Not my fault!”
Pointing fingers, alliance forgotten.

Sledding together on raw winter nights,
building forts with snow bricks made
in old loaf pans and muffin tins.
Playing happily, only the smallest
amount of bickering.
Until he shoves a handful of snow
down my back.

Older now, and flinging eloquent
R-rated insults.
Mum would kill us, but she’s not home.
He pushes, I hit.
We both stomp away.
An hour later, we’ve forgotten
and team up against supper.

Many fights in many forms:
fists and feet, words and wiles.

More often than we’d ever say—it’s
Talks and teasing and taking on the world,
Sneaking and snickering and soft conversation,
Leaning and laughing and lo—
Lo—

Yeah, that.

============
This was an assignment for my Creative Writing class. We had to write a poem on an abstract concept like love, memory, pain, fear, etc., but we couldn't use the word that defines the abstract concept in the poem, we had to express it through concrete images. I chose sibling love. ^^

I totally didn't write this by drawing on my own relationship with my younger brother. XD Nope, not at all. <<

Constructive criticism and all other comments are made of awesome and win. <3

I'll post the comments I got from my classmates verbatim once I type them up, in case anyone was wondering what they thought. Also, that means I have another record of them in case I lose them or the file gets damaged. ^^