Gaara isn’t often called in to deal with matters from the Engineering Department. Except for approving or vetoing certain village-sized projects, he doesn’t have much to do with them outside of paperwork.
Certainly not in person. Not anymore.
After the first incident–in which he was called in at three in the morning and all he did was stand around looking imposing as two engineers yelled, fought, cried on each other, then came to an agreement in the span of two hours. True, that first incident led to the village’s first successful hydroponics program, and later aquaponics program, but not as a result of anything Gaara himself did–he’s learned to use proxies since then.
But the young engineer standing in front of him looks like he won’t accept a proxy or no for an answer. Even if he’s nervously curling into himself.
Gaara doesn’t take offense. If he’s remembering correctly, this is one of the recent genin graduates. The one who had been slated for the Puppet Corps until Kankurou found out that he’d rather make puppets than fight with them, and so had shunted him into Engineering where he’d be happier surrounded by machines than people.
“Fukiya, correct?” Gaara asks, smiling to himself when the genin straightens at his name.
“Yes, Kazekage-sama!” Fukiya says, bows low, straightens back up, all in one enthusiastic movement.
“And you’re sure this isn’t just Yokume and Gosan arguing again?” He asks, just to confirm. He’s already standing away from his desk, gesturing for Fukiya to lead the way. Jinzo only raises his eyebrows instead of squinting angrily, so Gaara knows he’s not scheduled for anything else at the moment.
“Not this time, Kazekage-sama,” Fukiya says, sounding far less nervous the deeper into the building they go. The Engineering Department is underground. Deep underground.
“Was Baki unavailable?” It’s not that Gaara is trying to get out of it–he likes being involved in his village–but this is an unusual situation.
“We already called Baki-sama, Kazekage-sama, and he’s actually there now. But he said to go get you, Kazekage-sama.”
An unusual situation indeed.
They come to a stop outside a set of massive double doors. Fukiya glances around, looks sheepish when he catches Gaara’s eye, then enters a series of numbers into the keypad. A much smaller door opens up for them to enter through.
The first thing Gaara sees is Baki’s face, smirking. Then is Yokume and Gosan, eagerly shouting upwards. When he follows their line of sight, he sees a massive orb made of metal and glass…
… and what looks to be a small child inside it, happily fiddling with the wires of what he knows to be the Engineering Department’s ultimate pet project.
—
(Yodo doesn’t remember her biological parents and she doesn’t really care. As far as she’s concerned, they didn’t want her, so she doesn’t want them.
She doesn’t need them, either. She didn’t need them before, when she was just one of many Suna orphans running around the village, and she definitely doesn’t need them now that she has a family that loves her and actually wants her.
And plus, Father is the Kazekage and Mother is one of the most badass people in the world–Yodo’s not even exaggerating. Why would she care about some random strangers she’s never even met?)
—
The child is five years old, unbelievably smart, and–according to the engineers on the night shift–a stealth prodigy. Gaara will believe the first two, but given the way the little girl knows some of the engineers by name, he’s highly skeptical of the last one.
Both Yokume and Gosan are on the verge of tears, which isn’t an atypical state of being for them. But usually it’s over non-human matters.
“You can’t have a five year old working for the Engineering Department,” Gaara says, choosing to be the voice of reason here.
“Can she even read?” Baki asks, looking far too amused by the situation.
“I can hear just fine,” the little girl says, dangling from the catwalk, knees hooked around the railing.
She seems confident in her stability, but Gaara would rather not risk it. He sends a platform of sand up towards her and, after a couple of curious nudges, she switches perches.
“And I can read…” she continues, voice high and piping and offended.
“… most things,” she admits in a mutter after a moment’s silence, sand platform bringing her closer. “Math is easier, okay?”
Baki snorts.
Yokume and Gosan check on the orb, simultaneously gushing and arguing about the changes the child has made while Fukiya trails after them like an eager student.
“What’s your name?” Gaara asks, because for all that she knows the night shift engineer’s names, they don’t seem to know hers.
She seems to be content on the platform, even though it’s hovering close enough to the ground that she could disembark if she wanted to. She doesn’t answer for a moment, busy testing the pliability of the sand–it’s as pliable as he wills it to be. He lets her shape it as she wants and holds it still when she decides she’s satisfied with it. She appears to be building a model of Suna.
“The matron at the orphanage use to call me Yodo,” she says finally, possibly unused to someone patiently waiting for her to answer.
“Used to?”
Yodo wrinkles her nose in disgust, “I don’t go there anymore. Too many voices, it’s annoying. I come here instead.”
Gaara can feel his brow furrowing in confusion, hopes it doesn’t come off as irritated. His people are no longer scared of him, but he knows he’s still an intimidating figure. “For how long?”
Yodo huffs, as if she’s the one who should be annoyed by all these questions, “Almost four days,” she says.
Which isn’t as long as Gaara had feared, but definitely long enough that this should have been brought to someone’s attention earlier. Either as a missing child’s case or as an intruder in the Engineering Department–four days is too long.
“You’re not going to make me go back, are you?” Yodo asks him, blue eyes wide and staring into his.
Gaara doesn’t know what his face looks like now, but whatever it is, it makes Baki actually, audibly laugh.
—
(The Council talks about her as Father’s successor as if it’s a position she should be honored to have, instead of something they’re trying to force onto her.
She doesn’t know why they even think she’d want it–but then again, the only council member she’s ever spoken to is Councilor Odo who still thinks Mother is some kind of interloper or the most conspicuous spy ever.
She understands their reasoning, at least: Yodo may not be one by blood, but she’s still a scion of the desert. They don’t want her to end up like Temari-oba, married away in a different land and essentially lost to Suna.
No, Yodo doesn’t want to be Kazekage. But in this matter, she keeps quiet. As soon as she rejects it, they’ll turn to Shinki; and for all that he thinks he should be the next Kazekage, Yodo doesn’t think he actually wants to be, either.
Yodo can be a good sister.)
—
Yodo concedes to leave the Engineering workshop only when Gaara promises not to bring her back to the orphanage. She also demands dango, but after two years of raising a child, he knows better than to give her sweets without any substantial food to temper it.
They agree on takoyaki, which Yodo deems similar enough in shape to dango as to be acceptable, and which Gaara knows won’t lead to a sugar high and crash.
Between the Engineering Department and his office, Yodo sneaks her hand into his. He looks at her in surprise–it took Araya nearly a year to feel comfortable enough with him to do the same–and she begins to withdraw it, but he curls his fingers around hers and she smiles brightly up at him.
They pass by others at work. The administrative building is quite large, houses other departments besides Engineering, and someone must have sent word ahead because Jinzo is waiting for the two of them in Gaara’s office with a familiar looking set of forms.
“Another one?” he asks, almost as amused as Baki had been.
Gaara shrugs because he has no argument. Has nothing he’d want to argue against.
“Shall I have a runner go fetch Nara-san and Araya?” Jinzo asks, already flaring his chakra to summon one of the genin whose sole purpose is to do whatever he tells them apparently.
“And dango!” Yodo says, swinging their conjoined hands.
“Takoyaki,” Gaara corrects, considers for a moment, “And maybe some dango, too.”
Yodo cheers while Jinzo sends a second runner for the food and a third to prepare some drinks.
Gaara goes to sit at his desk. Rather than sit at the more comfortable couch, Yodo clambers onto the desk–taking care to avoid touching any of the paperwork, while she turns her head this way and that.
“Will this let me work in the Engineering Department?” Yodo asks, watching him write her name but not understanding the rest.
“One day, if you still want to, then you can,” Gaara answers, filling in the rest of the forms–his name, Shikako’s name, Yodo’s again. “This means that, if you want, you never have to go back to the orphanage.”
She looks up at him and in her eyes he sees maybe something like hope.
—
(Yodo thinks in terms of music. In tone and rhythm, tempo and frequency. She thinks of melodies and harmonies, instruments and voices fitting together into one cohesive song.
Machines are like that, too. Different components coming together to make something better and stronger than they are alone.
Sometimes there are problems–sometimes gears shift out of place and software doesn’t match up. Sometimes the drums go too fast and the strings screech instead of hum–but they can be troubleshot, they can be fixed. Music and creation and life are always open to additions and adjustments.
This is what family means to her.)
~
A/N: I really thought I’d be able to get this in before midnight Ah, well, I guess this is just a very early post then.
I’ll post these three up on ao3 later
(Also, I don’t know if anyone noticed but Yodo is meant to be neuroatypical.)
Kankurou will never say this out loud–and definitely not where Temari might hear him–but this is all her fault. (No, really.)
See, if she hadn’t faffed off to Leaf in order to marry into some other clan instead of telling that sleepy-eyed weirdo to marry into their clan then he and Gaara wouldn’t have been left trying to figure out what the hell to do when someone randomly tells them that hey, one of your ancestors somewhere along the line apparently had an illegitimate child, because we’ve found a kid who can use Magnet Release. Also, he’s an orphan–have fun dealing with this!
Technically, it should be Kankurou’s responsibility given that he’s older and clan leadership is passed down in birth order. But they’re called the Kazekage clan after all, and, well, Gaara is the Kazekage. It only makes sense for Kankurou to let the more qualified brother handle it.
And it’s not like Kankurou’s the one adopting an army of small children. (To be fair, there’s only two of them and Araya is a fairly mellow kid. Yodo’s the one who could put the entire Puppet Corps through the wringer, especially when she’s high on sugar from whatever sweets given to her by a certain someone who shall remain nameless. It would’ve been hilarious… if he hadn’t been tapped for babysitting duties that same day and realized he stabbed himself in the foot.)
So passing the buck it is.
He at least goes to pick up the kid–because Gaara does have an entire hidden village to run and, admittedly, Kankurou will be this kid’s clan head even if he won’t be this kid’s Father (the very idea of it makes him shudder; ugh, fatherhood, he can barely stand being an uncle)–and takes a nice, quiet solo journey to some tiny town in the middle of nowhere.
Gaara did offer to send some chuunin with him, but like hell was Kankurou going to put up with a bunch of brats just to pick up another brat. Never mind that most chuunin are about his age or even older. (And plus, it gives him some time to work on his playwriting without wind of it getting back to Sparky.)
He kinda has an idea of what he’s expecting of the kid–even though, beyond him having Magnet Release and being an orphan, the report didn’t include much. Not even a name which, what the hell, he’s going to bust someone’s balls for this. He doesn’t approve of shoddy work when it means he’s going into a situation blind. (Been there, done that, got the irritating friendships with Leaf nin to prove it.)
As it is, he ends up being completely wrong and, somehow, spot on. He maybe should have made Gaara come–or Sparky, even, given that despite having no blood relation and not even having met each other yet, this kid would fit in perfectly with her horde of hell-raisers. How someone could get into so much trouble in the boondocks is beyond him–but hell if Kankurou isn’t a little bit impressed.
—
(Shinki doesn’t mean for bad things to happen to the people around him, they just do. His first Mother had said that the things he could do weren’t bad, just powerful; all he had to do was learn how to control them.
But even with her own talents with metal–hidden in plain sight as the town’s blacksmith–she still looked at his ability with wariness and no small amount of fear.
He can’t remember what happened to his biological father, only that he disappeared one day and never came back.
That’s what Shinki used to think, anyway.)
—
The kid is nine years old and if Kankurou hadn’t grown up with the poster child for stoicism, he’d admit that the kid’s got a pretty good poker face. As it is, he can tell the kid’s about as nervous as Sparky in front of an audience older than Academy age–and, also, hiding something.
But despite being admittedly nosy, Kankurou stays silent on that matter; because he knows what subtlety is, unlike some people.
The shinobi dispatched from the nearest outpost meets Kankurou in the village and gives a rundown of the situation which for some reason wasn’t included in the original report.
“Bandits, most likely,” the chuunin says with a shrug, not bothering to temper his volume. Normally, surrounded by civilians, it wouldn’t matter, but from the small twitches on the kid’s face Kankurou can tell, even without the clan blood limit, he’s not just a normal civilian. “Tried to ransack the blacksmith’s shop, maybe to get supplies, and didn’t realize she was still in the forge. She put up a hell of a fight, though.”
Ah, shit. Poor kid, being forced to relive his mother’s last moments from the voice of an disinterested chuunin. But pity never helped anyone.
“Bandits?” Kankurou barks at the chuunin instead, edging it in a way that he usually doesn’t. Pity doesn’t help, but anger can, “This area is part of your outpost’s territory isn’t it? Were you just letting them run rampant?”
The chuunin straightens up at attention, suddenly faced with a superior officer not just a fellow shinobi. “No, sir. I mean, yes sir–I mean.”
“Spit it out,” Kankurou says, maybe amping it up because it’s possible there’s the smallest hint of a smile on the kid’s face.
“We’ve been gathering intel on them, trying to triangulate their base of operations. It wasn’t until the attack yesterday that we got enough to pinpoint it. We were going to do some more recon before requesting a team. But the, uh, witness seemed like a more important matter,” the chuunin reports, belatedly adding, “sir.”
“A team?” Kankurou scoffs, he’s a puppeteer–The Puppeteer what with being head of the corps, now–he’s basically a team all by himself. And besides, “Why do you need a team when you’ve got two scions of the desert?” he asks the chuunin, then nods in the kid’s direction, “Hey brat, you interested in getting revenge?”
What? Kankurou never said he was good with kids.
—
(A part of Shinki used to think that becoming a shinobi was inevitable. That even his first Mother knew it, too, despite not sending him to Suna when he turned six.
She had taught him what tricks she had learned from her own mother, and other things she had picked up or made up along the way. She had taught him about weapons and about tools, about the difference and similarities between them. About how neither could harm him–not so long as they were made of metal and sang like adrenaline in his blood.
He thinks she was preparing him for a future without her. He’s never sure whether or not he should be grateful for that.)
—
The bandits are a bunch of clichés–a group of twenty or so men all unwashed and rowdy, hiding in a cave. Kankurou is honestly a little embarrassed on their behalves. Or, you know, he would be if they weren’t the assholes responsible for murdering an unknown clan member and leaving the kid–Shinki, as he had huffed in response to being called brat–orphaned.
Okay, maybe Kankurou got a little attached. But he’s a good kid; keeping pace and falling in line and not at all rebelling and pulling some kind of bullshit impossible plan from out of nowhere that somehow miraculously works. (No doubt Sparky will ruin that given a few months, but he can appreciate it while it lasts.)
They meet up with another chuunin not far from the cave–who startles at seeing the head of the Puppet Corps and a nine year old accompanying his teammate, but maintains a sense of professionalism nonetheless.
“There’s two exits–this one’s the main one, big enough for horses and a cart, though I’ve only spotted two so far. The other one is around the southeast side of the mountain, pretty narrow, almost missed it, probably an emergency escape route.”
Unfortunately, cliché and filthy didn’t mean stupid.
“You two stay here, wait for the signal before you join us,” Kankurou says, “Us two will go through the other entrance. Catch them off guard, make sure none of them get away.”
“Uh, sir?” asks the first chuunin, nervously, “What’s the signal?”
Kankurou barely manages not to roll his eyes. Shinki and the other chuunin don’t bother refraining.
“The sounds of screaming, probably” Kankurou says deadpan, enjoying the way the chuunin flinches.
“Let’s go, kid,” he continues, before they waste more time on inanities.
The emergency exit is narrow enough that the three of them–Karasu included–have to go single file. The few traps are easily disarmed and Shinki’s silent nature thankfully extends to stealth.
Somehow, even though he’s on Kankurou’s six, the kid spots the bandits first.
Well, a specific bandit.
“That’s him,” Shinki murmurs, angry but still quiet, not stupid enough to give away their position.
Kankurou doesn’t need clarification–given the bandages hastily wrapped around the bandit’s torso and beginning to bleed through red, it’s obvious who he is.
“Stay here, kid. Any of them slip past me, you take them down, okay?” Like that’ll happen–Kankurou’s been too well trained (tortured by that old hag, more like)–but the kid doesn’t know that. “Let’s go sound that signal, then.”
Of course, Kankurou probably should have figured that the kid’s obedience would run dry at some point, because after only about ten minutes of fighting–most of the bandits incapacitated one way or another–he finds the kid standing over the prone body of a bandit. The specific bandit.
The kid’s shaking, the man is talking, and that’s never boded well.
“… I knew it. Should have known as soon as your mother brought you screaming into the world. Go on, demon, prove me right,” the bandit says, a sneer on his face for all that he’s the one at a disadvantage.
The kid has somehow ended up with a sword–poor quality, probably the bandit’s own weapon–but he shakes like he’s the one whose life is in danger.
“I-I c-can’t do it,” Shinki says, “I can’t.”
Kankurou sighs, waves Karasu closer to loom over the bandit who is finally beginning to look afraid. He puts his other hand on Shinki’s shoulder, turns him around. “Don’t look, kid.”
Shinki closes his eyes, presses close, and doesn’t look.
Neither of them mention it again.
—
(Sometimes, Shinki wishes his first Mother were still alive. Not that he prefers her over Mother–no, he loves this new family fiercely, wouldn’t trade them for the world. Even when he and Araya don’t quite understand each other, or he and Yodo get on each others’ nerves.
Sometimes, he wishes she hadn’t been afraid. Wishes that she had taken the chance to reach out, to be a part of this family.
He thinks she would have loved them, too.)
~
A/N: Kankurou, goddamnit, why can’t you stay on topic?
Technically this part ought to be third if we’re going chronologically, since I feel like Shinki would’ve been the last adopted (which kind of adds to his self-esteem issues re: succession and also his adoption sort of obligated because blood limit) but Kankurou is easier for me to write than Gaara. Which, yeah, spoilers I guess, Yodo’s part will from Gaara’s POV.
Shikako doesn’t notice him at first. Just another face in the crowd of children that flock to her even here in the Ikioi-En; small and eager and easily pleased.
Though he is the smallest and youngest of the group; the most eager to try and help her even after her shadow puppet show is over and his peers drift away.
She doesn’t think he can read yet, much less understand the fuinjutsu of a long dead ancient civilization, but it helps to think aloud while analyzing the recovered chunks of Gelel shrine rubble and, unlike the Sand researcher assigned alongside her for this joint-village mission, he does honestly seem happy to just listen to her talk.
Then again, she treats him to dinner whenever she realizes hours have already passed, sky growing dark, and he has a soba addiction nearly as bad as Naruto’s obsession with ramen.
She should have realized there was more to it than that.
—
(He remembers his first Father a little bit: a large man with gentle hands who tried his best, despite the disease plaguing him. The illness making movement and speech and, eventually, thinking difficult.
It’s why they had moved to the Ikioi-En, hoping the healing springs would cure him. But it didn’t. Instead it left Araya alone, surrounded by strangers who didn’t care.
He doesn’t remember his first Mother at all.)
—
One day, her littlest fan doesn’t show up.
She notices immediately.
She doesn’t think it’s vanity when, after a few hours of distraction and concern, she goes to find him. She knows it’s not when the endeavor turns out to be more difficult than expected, worryingly so.
“His name is Araya, he’s four maybe five years old? Brown hair, green eyes. We eat here like, at least twice a week.” She says to the woman at the soba stand, whose interest waned as soon as it became clear that Shikako wasn’t planning on buying anything.
“Then shouldn’t you know where he is?” She asks, apathetic but not cruel.
Not wrong, either, but Shikako doesn’t appreciate the thought when she’s going out of her mind with worry.
Desperate, she unfurls her chakra sense as far as it can go, even though being so close to where the Gelel shrine used to be and the resulting healing springs is like trying to listen through white noise.
Araya is young, not much chakra to speak of, but familiar after so many weeks researching in the Ikioi-En. The smooth surface of porcelain and polished wood, subtle and beautiful.
She finds it, small and wavering and feverish, surrounded by other signatures which feel sickly, too. She runs, as fast as she can–uses shunshin when that proves to be too slow–and barely skids to a stop in front of a small clinic, one of many that have cropped up around the healing springs.
The medic startles, goes for a kunai–the Ikioi-En is almost an off-shoot of Sand, the healing springs and attached clinics shinobi-monitored if not outrightly controlled–but relaxes when he notices who she is. She’s the only Konoha shinobi here not on medical leave, and somewhat famous besides.
“Araya?” she asks, too keyed up to ask a proper question, honing in on his chakra flickering ever so precariously like a candle in the wind.
The medic rolls his eyes, beckons her to follow him to the back where, on one of the cots, Araya is curled up. Shikako drops to the floor next to it, hands glowing green with a diagnostic jutsu.
“It’s just a cold,” the medic says, “He probably caught it from one of our other patients. He’ll be fine in a few days.”
Her jutsu tells her the same, but she still keeps a hand on Araya’s hot and clammy forehead. He leans into it, no doubt seeking some relief against the fever.
“It’s gonna be annoying taking care of him, though,” the medic mutters, loud enough for Shikako to hear him and shoot a glare in his direction.
“Isn’t that your job?” she grits through her teeth.
He looks far less intimidated than she’d prefer. “No. I run a clinic, not an orphanage.”
Immediately the fight goes out of her–that answers her other question.
—
(Araya wears a mask, feels more comfortable with a barrier between him and the rest of the world. Likes knowing that something as basic as his appearance is a secret for him and his family.
He also likes how all it takes to disappear in the village is to remove it. Easily becoming just another face in the crowd, a stranger nobody can find.
Except for Mother.)
—
The next couple of days Shikako takes off from researching–she’s ranking leader on this mission, she’s allowed to do that; and even if she wasn’t allowed, she’d do it anyway–and spends it watching over Araya.
They’re kicked out of the clinic on the second day–the medic none too happy with her loitering. Thankfully, the inn that she’s been staying at provides an extra futon when she asks; the owner also allows Shikako use of the kitchen.
It takes four days for his fever to break, her journals and errant thoughts keeping her company until then. She plans then hesitates, writes letters that she doesn’t send.
Shikako has never thought of herself as particularly maternal. Taking care of people is a necessity not something that gives her enjoyment. But Araya is all alone in the world, and when has she ever let that stand?
When he’s awake and lucid, she asks him a very important question. He says yes–eager and easily pleased.
When he’s well enough to travel, they go to Sand to make it official.
—
(He’s been with Mother and Father for long enough that he barely thinks about his early years. It’s mostly a distant memory, but something he can remind himself of easily by simply looking in a mirror and unmasking himself.
Mother found some information about his first Father, and every year on the day he passed they light a stick of incense for him.
He’s no longer hungry and alone and constantly sad. There’s so much life around him now, noise and smiles and gentle touches. Araya is happy being a part of this family, and he thinks his first Father would be happy for him, too.)
~
A/N: *SCREAMING* Okay, so, I swear to god I was going to post all three of their parts together in one singular Dreaming of S(haring the World) but it is getting TOO LONG, so here’s Araya’s part so I can post something before midnight. I will definitely be posting at least one part tomorrow if not both Yodo’s and Shinki’s.
The feels weren’t as expansive as I thought it would be since apparently ~plotty things~ like how the NGSS got adopted in the first place wanted to be written instead. Even though feels would have been easier…
Ah, well, you know Lee. If there’s something that can be done 100% he’s somehow going to find a way to do it 200% 😀
Thanks! I didn’t think I’d like writing for next gen as much as I have, because I thought I’d have to stick to the utter bullshit Kishimoto saddled us with in Ch700, but then I realized: this is FANFICTION. More than that, this is FANFICTION of fanfiction. I can basically do whatever feels right to me and make everyone about four hundred times happier than they are in canon.
Sometimes, happiness comes in unconventional family structures.
Oh, anon, you’re adorable. Am I working on prompts right now? Do you know how many prompts I have to fill, still? SO MANY, ANON, SO MANY–and this is literally only for DoS:
Dreaming of S(omething) — anonymous: Shikako/Gaara from Team 7’s POV — anonymous: Gaara/Shikako the morning after/or the moment they themselves realize their relationship is more than “just friends” — anonymous: Dreaming of S(haring the World) aka next gen Sand Sibs raised by Shikaara (and Kankurou) FEELS!
Gambling Away The Past, 5/? — anonymous: deer summon shenanigans
Down Every Road, 4/? — anonymous’ giant list of prompts: 1) enraged/emotional/protective Sasuke (in context of Grass Chuunin Exams) 2-4) Ino, Naruto, and Itachi’s POV of Shikasuke 5) Ino, Naruto, Itachi, and Shikako bonding over being part of the “protect Sasuke” squad 6) Ino, Naruto, and Itachi bonding over being part of the “get Shikako and Sasuke together” squad 7) long distance relationship Shikasuke (via letter writing and unamused summons, no doubt) — anonymous: (Walking Around) Down Every Road aka Shikako and Sasuke planning/dealing with pregnancy.
Hail To The Queen, 5/? — anonymous: sometime in the future, somehow ends up a temporary daimyo for a foreign country
Walking Around ‘verse — anonymous: Sakako and Boruto bonding on a mission gone wrong in Walking Around ‘verse
Kakashi POV Fic (*) — anonymous: Kakashi POV of Shikako – bell test, Wave mission, Chuunin Exams, Sasuke Retrieval, Gelel aftermath, Grass Chuunin Exams, Tokubetsu promotion, etc.
(More) Future Fic (*) — anonymous: Shikako in the epilogue and Boruto the movie. How would she change everything? Kakashi and Shikako scene requested.
anonymous: “There are only four Lucky Seven.” “Well, the other three weren’t very lucky, were they?”
future-tongue: Tsunade and Sasuke bonding fic (Walking Around ‘verse or otherwise)
cadalie: Shikako and Neji’s Revolutionary Crusade of Fuinjutsu and Great Justice
Stars Also Dream, 6/? (aka Jedi Yoshino) — book14reader: the other surviving padawans
I may occasionally write and post other things, but this list above is basically my priority when it comes to writing. I keep trying to chip away at it and then sometimes I’ll write something and end up with more feels or other people will end up with feels and then give me feels and it’s a never-ending circle, anon.
This list also doesn’t include the unprompted things I have in mind for certain series.
Oh, right! I forgot about that! Thanks for the reminder 🙂
I guess that means EVERY child born to a Konoha kunoichi is planned to some extent. (Some poor paper nin in charge of making Kareru’s records laughs hysterically that only Team Seven would find a way to have an unplanned baby.)
I actually have the idea that their usual approach to things would be reversed in the face of Shikako’s pregnancy. Like, Shikako’s cool with just asking her mom what to expect and then just listening to what the medic nin suggests, whereas Sasuke is the one to read ALL of the books and interrogate the medic nin for exact details on EVERYTHING and he’s the one that keeps time for Shikako’s meals/vitamins (because it’s been shown that when she gets into a research groove, Shikako has no idea what time or even, sometimes, day it is).
Shikako takes to hiding, but her stealth is severely reduced due to being massively pregnant. Sasuke tracks her down everywhere in the village, just like “Have you seen Shikako anywhere? It’s three o clock which means she’s supposed to take these vitamins and also eat kale.” (“Sasuke, kale is gross.” “It’s also nutritious.”)
(The Lee swap out evasion technique stopped working after the fourth time, which is unfortunate because he was just getting good at his pregnant waddling. He was going to try to incorporate it into a new taijutsu style.)
I’ll see about filling this prompt properly, anon, but it’ll probably just be more of the same silliness of above. 😀
I suppose no jutsu is 100% full-proof, that’s true; though it’s probably 99.99% since this is Tsunade we’re talking about and it wouldn’t be taught en masse to female Academy students if it hadn’t been thoroughly tested beforehand. It’s also something that is probably checked every time a kunoichi goes to the hospital which, considering who we’re talking about here, would be fairly frequently.
Deliberate choice vs plan does seem about right for these two–though it’s probably more societal expectation than familial pressure. Especially since all of her friends were starting to get pregnant/have kids too?
I feel like Yoshino and Shikaku are probably way more liberal than the other parents when it comes to their kids–or at least, Shikako specifically–given their own beginnings and how they’re still a little surprised that their constantly quiet hyper-sensitive child became this grown badass woman.
Like, the “my tiny child wants to go to the Academy even though she probably won’t be able to become a ninja? Sure, whatever she wants” mindset is probably still strong. The twins don’t often want things so when they do (and it’s not actively harming themselves or their family) then Yoshino and Shikaku are probably just like, definitely go for it, I believe in you. Shikaku, in particular, is big on NO PRESSURE mentality for raising his children.
Unexpected periods would be EVEN WORSE as a kunoichi–ugh, having your position given away because your uterus will not stop bleeding. 😡
Yeah, I get that. It’s not ill-willed or anything, just a “what makes me happy might make her happy” kind of thing.
Hahaha, I should have known mentioning it would lead to something. I’ll add it to my list, cadalie, though I’m not really sure how I’ll pull it off. Like the subject matter is serious for obvious reasons, but “Shikako and Neji’s Revolutionary Crusade of Fuinjutsu and Great Justice” just SOUNDS like an amazing title. 😛
Oh, right! I forgot about that! Thanks for the reminder 🙂
I guess that means EVERY child born to a Konoha kunoichi is planned to some extent. (Some poor paper nin in charge of making Kareru’s records laughs hysterically that only Team Seven would find a way to have an unplanned baby.)
I actually have the idea that their usual approach to things would be reversed in the face of Shikako’s pregnancy. Like, Shikako’s cool with just asking her mom what to expect and then just listening to what the medic nin suggests, whereas Sasuke is the one to read ALL of the books and interrogate the medic nin for exact details on EVERYTHING and he’s the one that keeps time for Shikako’s meals/vitamins (because it’s been shown that when she gets into a research groove, Shikako has no idea what time or even, sometimes, day it is).
Shikako takes to hiding, but her stealth is severely reduced due to being massively pregnant. Sasuke tracks her down everywhere in the village, just like “Have you seen Shikako anywhere? It’s three o clock which means she’s supposed to take these vitamins and also eat kale.” (“Sasuke, kale is gross.” “It’s also nutritious.”)
(The Lee swap out evasion technique stopped working after the fourth time, which is unfortunate because he was just getting good at his pregnant waddling. He was going to try to incorporate it into a new taijutsu style.)
I’ll see about filling this prompt properly, anon, but it’ll probably just be more of the same silliness of above. 😀
I suppose no jutsu is 100% full-proof, that’s true; though it’s probably 99.99% since this is Tsunade we’re talking about and it wouldn’t be taught en masse to female Academy students if it hadn’t been thoroughly tested beforehand. It’s also something that is probably checked every time a kunoichi goes to the hospital which, considering who we’re talking about here, would be fairly frequently.
Deliberate choice vs plan does seem about right for these two–though it’s probably more societal expectation than familial pressure. Especially since all of her friends were starting to get pregnant/have kids too?
I feel like Yoshino and Shikaku are probably way more liberal than the other parents when it comes to their kids–or at least, Shikako specifically–given their own beginnings and how they’re still a little surprised that their constantly quiet hyper-sensitive child became this grown badass woman.
Like, the “my tiny child wants to go to the Academy even though she probably won’t be able to become a ninja? Sure, whatever she wants” mindset is probably still strong. The twins don’t often want things so when they do (and it’s not actively harming themselves or their family) then Yoshino and Shikaku are probably just like, definitely go for it, I believe in you. Shikaku, in particular, is big on NO PRESSURE mentality for raising his children.
Ah, well, I guess this is just a very early post then.
JackSGreyson Says 