(1 – anonymous – more 2.1, Naruto/Shikako, soulmate!AU)
Shikako has always known–even if her parents hadn’t sat her down and explained to her, she would’ve figured it out on her own, spiral seals on her skin containing nothing.
But soulmates are vulnerabilities, any shinobi’s ultimate weakness, and she won’t let herself be used against him.
Naruto learns to read from the words painted beneath long sleeves, short apologies and pleads to stay safe and little notes that make his days less awful.
(2 – anonymous – Shikako, KHR fusion/crossover, unexpected)
The Nara clan have been predominantly Rain types–laziness just one step off from tranquility–action from strategy, strategy from logic, logic from calm.
Storm is passion, chaos and destruction, almost the opposite of Rain.
One day, Shikako will learn to balance the two–or at least, she hopes so, trying not to wince at the wreckage around her.
(3 – @celsiahawthorn – Shikako & Tobirama, Semi-Phenomenal, Nearly Cosmic, Tobirama’s POV)
Tobirama is desperate–no more lost brothers, he prays–final gambit flowing from heart to mind to reality; he will gladly give his life and soul to the Shinigami if Hashirama and the village survive.
Shikako, thankfully, requires less than that, stepping forward, determined and prepared, shadows lashing out and carving an array of seals on the ground.
True, he is a fuinjutsu master, but so is Shikako, standing on the shoulders of giants.
(4 – anonymous – Special Jounin crew, complaining about Shikako)
The first time Shikako gives them the slip, it skips impressive and amusing and goes straight to aggravating and requiring vengeance–morning training with Gai, enough said.
The second time, it becomes a competition that continues through the third, fourth, fifth, sixth…
By attempt thirty eight, it becomes a bitter gruelling necessity.
(5 – anonymous – Shikako, temporary Academy teacher)
“So you’re all, what, eight?” Shikako asks the crowd of small faces staring at her, trying not to break out into hives at all the attention.
“Let’s see,” she mutters to herself, feeling the seconds slip by and the silence grow and the awkward need to fill it with something, anything, “what was I learning when I was eight?”
Needless to say, teaching eight year olds how to draw exploding tags probably wasn’t her best idea–she is never asked to substitute at the Academy ever again.
A/N: I have a sort of idea of what I would want a KHRxDoS fusion to be like, and I wrote a brainstorm for it, but I don’t think I’ll ever actually write it.
Post Word Count: 339, Running Word Count: 2095