Like her father, Shinako had no talent for fire jutsu.

She had seen the Chunin down by the docks, and by the sand pits at the construction site; anywhere flame retardant to stop their wild sparks from catching and intruding upon their actual lives. Fire was fantasy to them, with tales of dazzling jutsu used by the greatest shinobi of the leaf in times of war. It seemed, these days, that every young man in the village wanted to march off, inhale deeply, and see their foes consumed by an inferno.

*Madness...wasteful and destructive day-dreams.*

Inhaling and sighing deeply, Shinako smelled smoke. Casting her eye a little bit further down the walk, she spied a lone, balding man three benches away, staring absent-mindedly into the distance. The young woman's eyes lingered a little bit too long, and in that peculiar way the man must have felt it, as a few moments later he turned to look at Shinako.

The new genin deftly loosed her hair from its binding and turned her head, forming an impromptu curtain between herself and the stranger. She blushed, but not with embarrassment. No, at this particular moment it was something more akin to anger that gripped her.

She thought of the boys setting things on fire, and of the cigarette between the balding man's lips. Lastly she thought of her father, heaving his chest, as though trying to catch that same fire in his lungs, to defeat the last of his great enemies: the cancer that was eating him alive.

Shinako had pulled out one of her longer kimonos to visit today, a dull blue trimmed in vibrant violet, falling to her ankles and past her wrists, far different from the ones she wore in training. All of her cousins had told her how brave she was being in the face of this tragedy, and that there was nothing to be done but wait.

*You're the model daughter, Shinako. It's so good of you to take care of him like this. Why give up such a promising career in medicine to roll around with those rough-necks...*

The words of her relatives replayed slowly in the echoing cavern of her mind as she tried in vain to empty it. Her father mostly slept these days, and had not spoken without difficulty in three months. However, she tried to remember their last conversation. The last good day, the doctors called it wistfully, always remarking on how nobody ever recognizes its coming until it has long gone.

*There are no more good days...*

Shinako hung her head, not so much from the previous thought, but at having given in to it in the first place. The sun beat down happily on the scene. She had long-since learned that one could not expect nature to care about the troubles of everyday people.

A single tear rolled down Shinako's cheek, and she quickly wiped it away with her sleeve as she had done so many times before.

507/507 Words

Shinako was pulled from her reverie by a man speaking to her. His initial words were harsh and confusing, immediately drawing her suspicion. With scarcely a thought, her shadow slid from under the bench to place itself between herself and the newcomer. Looking up, she saw that he was injured.

With hair and eyes so dark, and such pale skin, the man could be some relative of hers come late to pay his respects to an elder, but his second question, after sitting rather unceremoniously beside her, cleared up any suspicions of that. He was roughly the same age as Shinako, and had he not reacted so strongly to her tears, she might have thought that he was flirting.

Checking her face with her hand and making sure that all tears had been wiped away, Shinako turned to the stranger and offered a smile.

"Oh, I don't mean to be...It's not that...It's just..."

After attempting to start the same sentence three times, Shinako let her shoulders slump back against the bench just as the young man had. She looked up at the sky as well, as though watching her cares about her normally demure public persona float away. She sighed again.

"My father is inside, dying of cancer, and there is nothing that I can do about it..."

She paused briefly.

"...nothing that anyone can do about it..."

She turned her head slightly to face her companion, basking in how good the sun felt against her upturned neck and face, not quite hot enough to burn. She slid the sandals off of her feet and rested her silky socks against the warmth of the side-walk, noticing that the balding man had gone, leaving her alone on the walk-way with the new stranger. If they were going to share a bench, Shinako figured that she may as well make conversation. She was not busy today, at least.

"I gave up a career in medicine, not that it would helped, but all of my relatives remind me anyway of how useless I am in the face of my father's illness."

Shinako's voice sounded agitated. She used a tone that she would scarcely think of letting slip in front of a more well-known person. She wasn't that kind of girl. Her anger had always made people uncomfortable, and so she had hidden it away all of her life. Something about talking with this stranger was oddly freeing. She sat forward once more, balling her fingers into fists and shaking her head angrily, lest more tears come rolling forth.

"It's all so overwhelming, you know? Up in that waiting room I just wanted to scream out! I wanted to tell them all how unwanted this attention is! I wanted to lash out and throw every back-handed compliment back in their snide faces! I wanted!"

Shinako's voice faltered slightly as she lost steam again, reclining once more and looking down the side-walk at where the smoking man had been. She spoke her words as though into the thin air, with no intention of them ever reaching ears, sympathetic or otherwise.

"I wanted him to just...get better..."

Shinako's sleeve dabbed at her eye again as a preemtive measure against the water-works she could already feel winning the battle against her own resolve. She was mentally exhausted from three-plus hours of doctor's visits and converstations with every aunt, uncle, and whoever-thrice-removed that had heard of the illness. Pursing her lips and regaining some of her usual composure, Shinako turned back to the stranger and decided that she didn't want to talk about herself or her father any more.

With a casual gesture of her slender hand and wrist, she indicated the bandages that wrapped the man's torso.

"So...how did you get injured?"

671/1,178

Shinako's hand moved almost instinctively to her own chest as the young man told her about how he was stabbed. This man, then, must have been a shinobi like her. He seemed uncomfortable, and she bristled at that. Once again her lack of decorum has caused unrest in a social situation. Though he seemed game for a conversation, Shinako knew that her silly girlishness would put her on thin ice with a fellow ninja.

She blushed at being called pretty, even as she silently cursed herself for allowing the stranger to come to know her as 'crying lady'.

"Shinako," she said quietly. Her voice was rich and silky, a true transition from the squeeky trumpet of her girlhood into something truly dulcet."My name is Nara Shinako. I apologize for my silly, girlish tears."

Shinako's eyes met the stranger's intense gaze, seeing only a small glimpse of how they seemed to covet her attention. Brushing the hair on the left side of her face back behind her ear so that she could see and be seen better. She bowed as best she could while seated, deeply and politely. If this man had been in combat, he was most likely of a higher rank than she currently was. She had not been on a single mission yet.

She pondered his question.

"Hmmm...I don't believe that it would be any different if I were more skilled in medical jutsu. This cancer consumes quickly, like fire."

She remembered the scent of the balding man's cigarette, even as the wind had taken its odor from the air. Her father had never smoked, and yet his lungs blackened in his chest. The young man was right. The world had no notion of fairness.

The girl's tears were gone now, having faded to the curiosity of conversation. Her shadow slowly shifted back to its natural orientation, the sun pushing it into place beneath Shinako's seat. She crossed her ankles, adopting a more feminine posture, and one that she was much more accustomed to, as though she were about to sit down with a guest in the garden for tea.

It was then that she became accutely aware of her companion's style of dress. Some part of her had always been aware that he was bare-chested, but the proximity of his arm to hers in that moment made her blush slightly more. She cleared her throat. Her brothers went about the house and the forest in such states of undress, so why should it bother her in this instance? She pushed it from her mind, allowing the natural coloring of her cheeks to die down.

"Really, I didn't mean to distract you from your day, especially as injured as you are. Shouldn't you be in bed resting?"

Shinako's concern was genuine, though her mention of bed-rest may have been a shamelessly transparent attempt at assuaging her guilt at waylaying the attentions of her new conversational partner with such a shameful tactic as tears. Her step-mother had often said that no real man could resist the tears of a woman.

539/1717

Shinako had heard of the Uchiha clan. Or, to put it more accurately, everyone had heard of the Uchiha clan. Their battle prowess had earned their name immortality amongst the shinobi of the leaf village. They specialized in the fire jutsu that Shinako had been imagining all day. She felt slightly embarrassed for her thoughts before remembering that they were private.

Then Tenzo was pushing her shoulder like her brothers used to do when she had had a bad day at school. She laughed playfully then, rolling her eyes as though above that sort of childish antic. In secret she was grateful for the efforts he was making in cheering her up.

He obviously had his own motives, and they weren't exactly subtle. Shinako was used to the male gaze, and recognized the intention behind Tenzo's wandering eyes immediately. She had not yet decided if he was harmless, but she certainly wasn't afraid of a bit of flirting. She also noticed what was perhaps the second invitation to leave with him and dine together. She would ignore those remarks, as well as what she strongly suspected to be innuendo in his remarks about bed. He was certainly very forward.

As his arm lifted, Shinako thought for a moment that it would wrap around her shoulders. In fact, she was almost surprised when it didn't. However, a slight wave of relief washed over her. Her various suitors had long known that she was not the type of girl to rush into anything. There were too many opportunities ahead of her, and too many duties to be neglected in a foolish and irresponsible romance. Such things were the indulgent luxuries of the other girls in the village. Nara girls were expected to be slightly more forward-thinking than all of that. Still, Shinako sometimes wondered if such a life would not be easier.

"All of my relatives have taken their leave. The Nara have many duties to go about in a day, and they could not budget any more time to spend here."

Once again, Shinako blushed, almost ashamed to be honest.

"To be quite candid, I would be lying if I said I was not relieved to see them go. As I mentioned before, they can be..."

Shinako searched for the right word, looking for one that would not sound too delicate or too bitter.

"...demanding." was the one that she finally settled on.

She rubbed at her arms, even though she wasn't cold, lost in thought for just a moment before returning her attention to Tenzo and his penetrating gaze. As a shinobi, his stare was slightly more subtle than a leer, and so it didn't quite raise her ire. It was flattering to her that the young man should find her interesting. Here he sat with a sword wound, professing that she was the most interesting thing going on in his day.

This sentiment was not without a small amount of vanity, in which Shinako did sometimes deign to indulge. She had washed, and combed, and primped, and perfumed before travelling to the hospital to receive her father's well-wishers on his behalf. Throughout life she had always found that it paid off to look one's best in one's saddest moments. It often provided that short boost of confidence needed to get through tough days. Had the doctors not ordered her out, she would still be sitting, 'bravely' clutching her father's hand.

She knew that tomorrow it would be back to her shirts and pants, throwing shiruken and sparring aimlessly with the other genin that had yet to find teams. If she was honest with herself, she was slightly put out of countenance by the prospect of spending another long day around ten and twelve-year-olds, but such was the life of a late-starter like her.

Absentmindedly, Shinako let out another sigh before offering up a half-hearted smile. It was the first time since arriving that she had gone five minutes without looking upward at her father's hospital room window. On some level or another, conscious or otherwise, she was grateful for that.



700/2417

Shinako held her ground as Tenzo moved in closer to smell her. This was a new experience. Many men had shown interest in her before, and even complimented her on her perfume, but not a single one had been brazen enough to lean in and take a whiff. Shinako wasn't sure if the goose-bumps that ran down the back of her neck were from excitement, or some sort of warning sign.

*Dangerous...don't touch,* she thought.

She gave him a side-eyed glance, raising one eyebrow inquisitively.

"Orchid and mint water..."

Something about Uchiha Tenzo's forward manner made her uncomfortable. She had often heard that in the heat of battle the killing intent of a shinobi could be felt in the air almost like a mist; something tangible that just brushed against the skin, as a constant reminder that it was there. It dawned on Shinako that she had never met a Jounin. Was that what she was feeling?

She decided to defuse the situation with a bit of humor.

"...I thought you said that you were a member of the Uchiha family, not the Inuzuka."

Shinako had often seen the Inuzuka sniff things in public with no hint of self-awareness. It was one of their many ways of interfacing with the world around them. Perhaps Tenzo was the same, not afraid to give in to his more animalistic urges, even when in polite company.

Out of either self-consciousness or habit, she knew not which, Shinako quickly scanned the environment for other people who might be passing by or observing. For a young lady to be seen in such proximity to a shirtless man would be scandalous at best, and her family didn't need a scandal just now.

Her search revealed that nobody was around. Even so, she scooted to her right, just to the end of the bench, just to be safe, then, looking back and Tenzo offered a smile and her right hand in a prohibitive gesture.

"Woah, down boy."

She said it in a stern voice as though speaking to a puppy, in the spirit of the previous joke. Shinako hoped that the gesture would be seen for what it was. Not a rebuke or a rejection, but a harmless reminder to maintain some sense of propriety. Perhaps it would help if she could get him talking about himself. She cleared her throat after a slight and delicate laugh.

"Though, being from the Uchiha clan you must be a big, hot-shot shinobi, eh?"

Shinako asked teasingly, though she was genuinely curious. Other than her Chunin teachers in the Academy, she had seldom found occasion to speak to higher ranking ninja, let alone Jounin, who always seemed to be either on a mission or preparing for a mission. They walked about the village brusquely on the way from point A to point B, or conversed behind doors in closed meetings about surgical strikes. If she was honest with herself, the lifestyle fascinated her, despite how dangerous it all seemed.

510/2927

Shinako could see that she had offended her companion. His tone and body language said it all. She looked down at her own bare feet and slipped them quietly into her sandals in case she had to excuse herself from what was quickly becoming an awkward situation.

She tried to hide it, but in her fluster at having crossed a line somewhere she almost completely missed his remarks about the Nara clan. However, she caught in his tone that his words were intended to bite. Her remarks about the Inuzuka and the Uchiha had very clearly touched a nerve or two. By the time the nearly deafening silence struck, Shinako was replaying the conversation in her head again to pinpoint the exact moment that she had irritated Tenzo, and hoping it wasn't simply her staunching of his physical advances. She had very nearly opened her mouth to make an apology and hurry off before Tenzo opened the conversation again.

She noticed the clouds overtaking the sun, and instinctively checked the location of her own shadow as it shrunk in size beneath her. It was becoming almost second nature to manipulate the inky swath. Once again it found its way between her and the man on the other side of the bench. When her speech finaly came, it came abruptly, betraying the fact that she was nervous.

"I am...um...I'm currently a genin, a low level shinobi. I recently graduated from the ninja academy."

Looking over at Tenzo she noticed that he no longer stared at her so intensely, which was a relief. However, the stark change in demeanor still chilled her. She kept speaking just to fill the void that had seemingly developed between them.

"You see, my father was in the Medical Corps, and rose to a pretty high level as only a Chunin. He never advanced beyond that, so if I can make Jounin he will be very proud."

The girl had never been truly ambitious. The life of a shinobi appealed to her as one of honor and service, not of acclaim or domination as was the case with so many throughout history. Having read all of the books about Konohagakure's storied history, Shinako knew the pain and destruction that could be caused by the wills of shinobi when exerted against their fellow man.

Her goals lay more in making sure that those innocents around the world deserving of protection were not harmed by those who would seek to use ninjutsu to subjugate them. Often in her dreams she saw herself as a freedom fighter; as a healer of the sick and protector of the small. Once again she was glad that Tenzo could not read her mind, as her thoughts would surely have embarrassed her more. The life of the shinobi was so often centered on killing.

With a delicate motion of her left hand she swept some stray strands of hair that had become loose back behind her ear, looking at Tenzo plaintively to bail her out of her social faux pas.

Training: