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19 June 2012 @ 07:45 pm
[fanfic - HBD, Karin!] périodicité (sk)  
Title: périodicité
By: Kanae (Goth-Punk88 @ ff.net)
Rating: K+
Word Count: 2.817
Author's Notes: Made for our "Karin's birthday week" over at the Ice&Spice FC @ NF ♥ I... don't even know what this is, or where it came from, and it's possibly one of the cheesiest pieces I've written for SK. But I kind of regret nothing lol - Oh and that novice drawing at the top of the fic? yup, mine's. guilty as charged orz
Summary: June 20 has never been an ordinary day for one Uzumaki Karin.

périodicité (periodicity)
"recurrence at regular intervals of time."


périodicité;

by Kanae


“Don’t look so down, darling. This is a great chance for you.”
“…Yeah… a great chance to make a fool of myself, you mean.”

A twinkling laugh, a delicate hand warmly lands over a girl’s head and

.
.
.

At twelve, there aren’t many things that Karin has done or that she wishes to do. She is just an ordinary girl from an ordinary family living in an ordinary village; there is nothing special about her, nothing out of the norm, nothing that makes her stand out—if one ignores her flagrant red hair, that is.

But that is just what her father seems to have wanted to do all along.

You’re going out? Don’t forget to put your hood on, Karin, he would say, whenever Karin had to wander away from the immediate realms of their home. Why, papa? She used to ask, when she was no more than a little girl; but that was an habit that slowly but surely withered and died as she began to grow up—as she started to grow aware enough to notice the wary air her father’s kind, wise red eyes acquired as the reminder left his lips.

As she grew older, Karin learnt to recognize it for what it truly was: more a warning than an advice; and she began to grow more jittery as result, more worn at the seams.

Her red hair was her only outstanding trait, the only thing that made her different—without it, Karin may as well fade into the scenery.

She may as well not exist.
.
.
.

—and ruffles her hair.
“Now, now, don’t be like that. I have a good feeling about this, you know?”
“…What do you mean, mama?”

A secretive smile highlighted by

.
.
.

At thirteen, Karin nearly dies.

And then she is saved—saved by a striking boy with a rich voice and eyes that warm her up to the core the moment he smiles—at her, for her—and suddenly, Karin does not feel so ordinary anymore.

There is something different about you, her mother tells her once with a knowing smile, ever since you came back from Konoha.
Karin jumps in her seat, awkward denial bubbling up in her throat and evaporating the moment her mother laughs, I like it. You look prettier, Karin.

She does not know about that—can’t see any difference as she looks at herself in the mirror, self-consciously pulling on some strands of red hair and squinting at her reflection.

What she does know, though—what she can’t forget, is

See ya, he had said, and it takes Karin a surprising amount of time to realize that, for the first time since she could remember, there was something she wanted.

Wanted for herself; not for her parents, not for those she cares about. Something that was completely hers, in all its staggering intensity and youthful hope.

See ya, he had said, and until then Karin had never quite known how good it felt to feel alive.
.
.
.

—by amber eyes that seem to spark.
“Ara~ I wonder if I should tell you. It is a safely guarded secret, you see.”
“I will keep it! I promise, I won’t tell anybody, mama!”

A chuckle, “Alright, alright! Since you insist, I'll tell you. It—”

.
.
.

At fourteen, Karin breathes her last breath.

There is no blood—not hers—involved, nor are there any wounds—not physical ones—or any white walls or tunnels and gates of light—no light, only dark—only smoke—only the smell of burnt flesh and intest

There is, however, anguish. An agony so great that Karin bit her lip until it bled, fisted her palms until her nails left permanent crescent-moon shaped scars in the contours of her skin, new batches added to already cracked life lines.

There are silent, chocked sobs that made her throat burn and her sight blur until she has ran out of tears.

And there is also horror; a burning, paralyzing sort of horror that reaches its peak and fades into a mute but perpetual tune stringing the chords of her being as she comes back and stares at the corpses of her father and mother, unrecognizable masses of ashes retching of burnt blood and bodily fluids that make a pile of vile crawl its way up to her tongue.

And then, there is he—sidestepping the man with ominous dark chakra and extending a hand towards her, onyx eyes boring into her own with the same might with which the understanding in his chakra drove her horror away.

You staying here will amount to nothing, but you leaving just might, he says. Come, Karin, he calls.

She takes his hand, and there is hope.
.
.
.

“—It is said that one too many women in our family have found their fate in the lands of Konohagakure.”
“Their… fate?”

Her voice curls up around the edges, as if it were a spell.
“You will understand in—”

.
.
.

At fifteen, Karin has shed her skin.

There are now sharp edges where there used to be soft contours; angry frowns where there used to be kindness, smirks where there used to be smiles; buoyancy where there once was shame, barriers in what once were vast landscapes—and there are also scars.

Tell-tale scars of the Karin she used to be and new, revolting ones from the Karin she has become. She hides the latter and denies the former; pretends they’re long gone, never aching, never hurting anymore.

Yet, he sees them all. As if she wore them on her sleeve.

“Say, Sasuke, since we’re alone how about we—”
“I have to leave soon, Karin.”

She puts her glasses back on and crosses her arms with a frown, moving away from him. “Why did you even bother coming, then?”

Sasuke says nothing, then. He says nothing, and Karin straightens, her back suddenly assaulted by gooseflesh; could he—?

Could he have possibly known? Known how before his unexpected arrival, Karin had been hounded by her memories. Seeing familiar faces in the nameless prisoners of the base, ghosts come back to haunt her and pull her down with them to the depths of hell—a hell made of nothing but flames and guilt of mistakes she is not sure she would take back, even if she could.

“…I had business here, is all.” His voice reaches out to her through the haze of her thoughts, pulling her back with nonchalant words that seemed devoid of any meaning.

But as she turns and her eyes meet his, Karin sees.
.
.
.

“—in due time, Karin.”
“Still, mama… it just isn’t fair.”
“What isn’t, dear?”
“… I wanted to spend my birthday with you and papa.”

Her smile

.
.
.

At sixteen, Karin falls.

She falls from a great, great height at appalling speed; she hasn’t even had time to acknowledge the abysm before she has hit rock bottom, her goals and dreams spilling through her open chest and pooling on the ground alongside everything she knows.

Alongside everything she once held dear. Everyone she relied on. The one she trusted.

Now, there was no one left.

No one left but the roaming, empty carcass of the boy she once loved; the boy who taught her what it felt like to be alive, the boy who gave her hope and helped her find meaning back when she had lost her way, the boy who helped her to be reborn from her ashes into someone better; someone stronger, someone capable of standing up for herself and for him, too. The boy who flared her will and her drive with a single touch, with a single look, with the simplest of words—

I need you

“So much for that,” Karin mutters to no one, her back pressed against the cold walls of a cell and her fingers absentmindedly tracing the ghost of the wound that had taken her heart out for good.

And then it comes. An almost unnoticeable flicker—too subtle to be perceived, but too longed for to be ignored.

No… I’ve had enough, Sasuke but her withered heart is trying to beat again, and it makes up her mind for her.

“…So much for this,” Karin murmurs to herself—and then she is on her feet again, her inner eye tracing his every move.
.
.
.

—melts.
“Cheer up, love. There will be many birthdays left for us to celebrate together.”
“… You promise?”

Her gaze softens.
“I promise.”

.
.
.

At seventeen, Karin kisses him.

She impulsively crashes her lips against his, her arms thrown around his neck in a desperate attempt to hold onto him—to anchor him down before his essence could have the chance to fade into pitch black darkness again, to feel him before he could have the chance to waste his life—her life, their future—chasing phantoms all the way to the death.

When the impromptu kiss ends, Karin sees him—the him she knows, the him she loves—flickering across his eyes for the briefest of moments, and she hears her name resounding in her ears even though he has not uttered a single sound.

She smiles ruefully; trembling eyes boring into his—and then wordlessly lets him go.

She has given him a reason, but the choice is his to make.
.
.
.

“Ha, so it was about a boy, I knew it!”
“Shh, mama! I don’t want papa to hear! And… it’s not like I’m ever going to see him again, anyway….”

Her mother has to hide her smile, “Actually, Karin… something tells me you just might.”

.
.
.

At eighteen, Sasuke kisses her back.

It is not nearly as passionate as her—their—first kiss had been; there is no desperation, no adrenaline—but there is craving all the same, waving through the serenity threading over her through the gentle pressure of his fingertips over the nape of her neck, enveloping her like a makeshift cloak and warming her down to her very core.

And Karin feels her very essence quiver under it—under the warmth and the way her heart seemed to want to leave her and jump into him instead, to claim the home it has always longed for; the home it has always fought for.

The home it belonged to.

As he kisses her, sunrays clumsily dancing upon her lips, Karin feels like she would vaporize into him if Sasuke were to take a single breath.
.
.
.

“How do you know?”
“Because, that’s how fate works, Karin.”

.
.
.

At nineteen, Karin smiles.

“Itachi,” she says, and Sasuke looks up to her, startled. “The name… Itachi. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”

Sasuke parts his lips—once, twice—but no sound comes out and soon enough he gives up altogether, lowering his eyes to stare at the bundle in his arms. It stares back at him, impossibly red eyes widened with innocent curiosity, pink tongue sticking out from underneath rosy lips.

“Are you sure, Karin?” he whispers after what seemed like an eternity, and Karin’s smile only widens.

“Yeah.”

And as she sees them—as she sees Sasuke hold their baby as if he were holding the whole, wide world in the crook of his arms—Karin remembers her mother with such vivid clarity that she catches a breath of her perfume. The memory—the vision is bittersweet, and it makes Karin’s throat clog, because she recognizes that look.

It was the way her mother used to look at her father and her, eyes brimming with love and pride, unspoken but ever-present, never changing. Karin had not been able to understand it, then

But she did, now. And the understanding squeezed her heart in a way that was both, wonderful and terrible. To think it took her this long to finally understand, once and for all, what it all meant.

To understand who her mother truly was, what her mother felt, what her mother desired for her—and how her mother hurt.

You’re special, Karin. She would tell her sometimes, her eyes half-lidded and afflicted by thoughts she would never get the chance to say aloud. One day, you will realize that.

She realized it, now; what it meant to love to her roots, what it meant to be a woman.

An Uzumaki woman.

“… Thank you, Karin.”

“Idiot,” she shakes her head, weakly, traitorous tears prickling at the corners of her eyes and threatening to spill. “That... should be my line.”
.
.
.

“They will be here soon,”
“Who will be here soon, mama?”
“It could be anyone,”
she finally replies, and her hold is steady as she combs through Karin’s hair, “we have long since lost any care for their identities, Karin. What matters is… what their presence means.”
“And what is that?”

Her silence provides the only answer; and Karin wishes it weren’t enough.

.
.
.

At twenty, Karin celebrates her birthday for the first time in seven years.

And it starts with a soft but firm admittance whispered as she caresses the baby’s nose, all too aware of the pleasant weight of Sasuke’s gaze, of the feelings swirling in his chakra.

Hearing them is unexpected, however—and her widened eyes snap to his only to find his lips beginning to curve, his own hand coming to caress her cheek in much the same way she was doing to their son.

“W—what was that about?”

She asks; some habits are hard to break, and her awkward way of fighting down her embarrassment seemed to be as persistent as ever.

Sasuke doesn’t seem to mind, though. If anything, his smile seems to morph into an amused smirk as he shrugs, noncommittally. “I just felt like saying it, is all.”

“Dumbass,” she mutters, hoping the darkness will hide the way her cheeks have warmed up like bonfires, so reminiscent of her prepubescent days when all she could do was dream she would one day lay with Sasuke the way she does now. “...You didn't need to.”

“I know, Karin,” and this time he is positively smiling, suddenly mutating back into the Sasuke that had stolen her heart so many years ago. “But it still felt good to say it.”

Karin says nothing in response; simply snuggles closer to him, eyes on the baby as he opens his eyes and blinks, his little hands curling and uncurling up into the air.

“He is going to be strong,” Sasuke assesses, and Karin would have mocked him by how ridiculous it was that he sounds that proud of Itachi when the baby hasn’t even said his first word yet, weren’t it because she felt the same way.

He was going to be strong. A little piece of herself and Sasuke—a memento of those who had given their life up for them; a torch for those who had granted them the chance to live this moment.

To live this happiness.

“Happy birthday, Itachi,” she whispers, and squeezes Sasuke’s hand. “I love you.”

The words feel dusty, and unknown—but familiar.

She knew them, once.

She has known them all along.
.
.
.

I'm sorry, Karin.

Were the last words her mother told her, before her father ushered her out of the house and prompted her to run—run as far as she could, away from them—and forced her to leave them to die.

To survive.

Those words used to hunt Karin down in those nights when sleep refused to lend her its hand, the eerie walls of Orochimaru’s hideout caving in on her and Sasuke’s steady chakra being her only relief, her only shield.

Yet, what haunted her weren’t the words themselves, but their meaning; Karin had instinctively known then, just as clear as she knows now, that her mother was not apologizing for forcing her to forsake them and live on.

No, that was not it—that was not the kind of woman her mother had been.

Instead, she had apologized for something else entirely.

For the unsaid.

“What are you thinking about, Karin?”

Her lips curl upward as he takes the seat by her side, repentances fading away into the evening sky.

“Nothing,” she replies, threading her fingers through his and gazing back to their children, who were laughing and running together through the backyard, a lively mixture of reds and blacks; the Uchiha and Uzumaki crests proudly etched on their backs, on their hearts.

“Nothing at all.”
.
.
.

"You will be fine."

And through the tears and the pain and the loneliness and the longing and the hardships and the fear, Karin should have known better.

Her mother was always right.


-
end.


I... seriously don't know where all this came from; my best guess: Uzumaki feelings. Uzumaki feelings everywhere. lol I tried to play with the different facets of Karin, and how she grows into each one of them; plus SK, of course.

The stuff I wrote here is not quite how I see things going, though; to do that I would have had to write about 395749574 vignettes per year, rather than only one lol so I went for rushed versions of a couple of scenarios I had thought about.

Oh and while I did not state it in the fic: every vignette takes place on Karin's birthday, so the baby was born on June 20, too.

Anyway, hopefully it wasn't that terrible! ♥
 
 
I'm : cheerfulcheerful
Listening to: never let me go - florence + the machine
 
 
 
elleloveslellelovesl on June 21st, 2012 10:19 pm (UTC)
beautiful <3
Kanaekanae_mizuhito on June 22nd, 2012 02:00 am (UTC)
you're a sweetheart gg, thank youuu <33
evil, crazy bitch. d.d.s.: NARUTO. and my bass down lowpulselines on June 28th, 2012 05:59 pm (UTC)
oh, god this is just so.... so pretty, so perfectly them. I love how you write Karin, it's poignant yet casual.

also this is lena/grotesqueries
Kanaekanae_mizuhito on June 29th, 2012 06:03 am (UTC)
aww thank you, lena! I'm really happy you found it 'poignant yet casual' haha ! ♥ thank you for taking the time to comment!