What is This Feeling? Interlude 1: Mother
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chuunin_archiveTitle: What is This Feeling?
Interlude 1: Mother
A: Kushina B: Minato
Rating: G (I no, right?)
Summary: Two encounters with a mother figure. Too much love can hurt sometimes.
They are small, btw. It’s ambiguous, so whatever, but still they are young. (You don’t need to read the rest of the story to understand this, but it would make me happy.)
Just some short little filler while I get my act together for the rest of the story. I realized earlier that I had no idea what the point of the story was. I had my prompt but then it turned into something bigger and I had no idea what to do with it for a while. BUT NOW I KNOW!! And I have been so caught up thinking about the future of this that I have neglected what is going on RIGHT NOW. So, essentially, I wrote you guys some filler to keep you busy!! And it’s not crappy filler, either. IT’S CANON. THINK ABOUT IT.
Part A:
Kushina stared in awe at the writhing paper clip. She was sure she would never be able to do that. She could barely make her own limbs move gracefully; how would she make something entirely ‘other’ do something she could barely manage?
“It’s like this, Kushina;” the woman holding the clip whispered, “you reach for the crackling, crumbling, flowing parts in you, and you bring them together in the paperclip.” The candlelight wavered as her breath passed by it, casting a flickering pattern of breathing light in the dark room.
Kushina breathed deeply and closed her eyes. She could feel the paperclip in her long fingers hum as she focused her chakras. She could tell the metal was perfect, but that wasn’t enough. She didn’t think she had any crackling, crumbling, flowing parts- just awkward parts waiting to grow into themselves. Still she tried.
‘Icecream,’ Kushina thought, ‘with nuts and- it breaks like a mirror. Cleanly into pieces. But it’s icecream so it goes right back into itself.’
She focused on the paperclip again, imagining it was like soft-serve ice cream bending out of the serving machine and being thick with nuts and sprinkles. She could feel the humming in the paperclip change, become smoother, and was encouraged. She held onto the idea a little longer and then thought of the mirror breaking-
“That’s it!” the woman whispered excitedly. “Kushina, you broke it!!”
Kushina looked down and saw that the paper clip had broken cleanly into small pieces on the table, scattered about like bits of moth and mote. She grinned widely and looked up at her mother. Her mother grinned back. Finally, there was progress!
Kushina wished she could show her father.
Part B:
Minato stared in resignation at his front door. He wanted to train, but Father was away and Mother was ill and needed taking care of. If she got worse he doubted that his own attention would be enough.
Minato crept inside as quietly as his training had enabled him to do. He had no idea where his mother was, right off, but the door to the garden closet was open, so that seemed like a good place to start.
He was right; Mother was in there, sitting in her folding garden chair, covered in a thick, dusty coat of cold, sluggish sunlight. He was tempted to shake her awake and put her to bed properly, but she looked too peaceful to disturb. Instead he brought her the blankets from the closet and her warmest pair of slippers for when she woke up.
She stirred when he flicked the blankets over her as softly as gravity allowed but did not show any signs of waking until he turned to leave the room. He felt her hand on his wrist as softly as the brush of the cobwebs in the forest- only present enough to exist- and was surprised again at how well she had fooled him into thinking she was asleep.
When he turned to look at her she was just looking at him, expressionless with the blankets hiding parts of her face. For a moment he was afraid that the neighbor-girl had snitched on him again and he was in trouble, or maybe she had heard about the kid he tripped, or the rude things he had said to the counter-girls in the market, but she only smiled at him with the love he had always known from her. The love that was as soft as the light falling on her now.
He bent close to her and hugged her as fiercely as his pride would allow and buried his face in her neck for a moment. Her hair tickled his face and her skin molded to the shape of his lips- he tried to commit it to memory, knowing he could only ever hold for his own if he kept it like a secret.
Minato hoped that he wouldn’t need that memory to sustain him anytime soon.
Interlude 1: Mother
A: Kushina B: Minato
Rating: G (I no, right?)
Summary: Two encounters with a mother figure. Too much love can hurt sometimes.
They are small, btw. It’s ambiguous, so whatever, but still they are young. (You don’t need to read the rest of the story to understand this, but it would make me happy.)
Just some short little filler while I get my act together for the rest of the story. I realized earlier that I had no idea what the point of the story was. I had my prompt but then it turned into something bigger and I had no idea what to do with it for a while. BUT NOW I KNOW!! And I have been so caught up thinking about the future of this that I have neglected what is going on RIGHT NOW. So, essentially, I wrote you guys some filler to keep you busy!! And it’s not crappy filler, either. IT’S CANON. THINK ABOUT IT.
Part A:
Kushina stared in awe at the writhing paper clip. She was sure she would never be able to do that. She could barely make her own limbs move gracefully; how would she make something entirely ‘other’ do something she could barely manage?
“It’s like this, Kushina;” the woman holding the clip whispered, “you reach for the crackling, crumbling, flowing parts in you, and you bring them together in the paperclip.” The candlelight wavered as her breath passed by it, casting a flickering pattern of breathing light in the dark room.
Kushina breathed deeply and closed her eyes. She could feel the paperclip in her long fingers hum as she focused her chakras. She could tell the metal was perfect, but that wasn’t enough. She didn’t think she had any crackling, crumbling, flowing parts- just awkward parts waiting to grow into themselves. Still she tried.
‘Icecream,’ Kushina thought, ‘with nuts and- it breaks like a mirror. Cleanly into pieces. But it’s icecream so it goes right back into itself.’
She focused on the paperclip again, imagining it was like soft-serve ice cream bending out of the serving machine and being thick with nuts and sprinkles. She could feel the humming in the paperclip change, become smoother, and was encouraged. She held onto the idea a little longer and then thought of the mirror breaking-
“That’s it!” the woman whispered excitedly. “Kushina, you broke it!!”
Kushina looked down and saw that the paper clip had broken cleanly into small pieces on the table, scattered about like bits of moth and mote. She grinned widely and looked up at her mother. Her mother grinned back. Finally, there was progress!
Kushina wished she could show her father.
Part B:
Minato stared in resignation at his front door. He wanted to train, but Father was away and Mother was ill and needed taking care of. If she got worse he doubted that his own attention would be enough.
Minato crept inside as quietly as his training had enabled him to do. He had no idea where his mother was, right off, but the door to the garden closet was open, so that seemed like a good place to start.
He was right; Mother was in there, sitting in her folding garden chair, covered in a thick, dusty coat of cold, sluggish sunlight. He was tempted to shake her awake and put her to bed properly, but she looked too peaceful to disturb. Instead he brought her the blankets from the closet and her warmest pair of slippers for when she woke up.
She stirred when he flicked the blankets over her as softly as gravity allowed but did not show any signs of waking until he turned to leave the room. He felt her hand on his wrist as softly as the brush of the cobwebs in the forest- only present enough to exist- and was surprised again at how well she had fooled him into thinking she was asleep.
When he turned to look at her she was just looking at him, expressionless with the blankets hiding parts of her face. For a moment he was afraid that the neighbor-girl had snitched on him again and he was in trouble, or maybe she had heard about the kid he tripped, or the rude things he had said to the counter-girls in the market, but she only smiled at him with the love he had always known from her. The love that was as soft as the light falling on her now.
He bent close to her and hugged her as fiercely as his pride would allow and buried his face in her neck for a moment. Her hair tickled his face and her skin molded to the shape of his lips- he tried to commit it to memory, knowing he could only ever hold for his own if he kept it like a secret.
Minato hoped that he wouldn’t need that memory to sustain him anytime soon.
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