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“Gifts and Curses” by fuyuko

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Story notes: Haha, this is part of my current obsession with song stories. I edited this much less than my previous few stories, so I hope this doesn't come off as being another "wordy" creation again. Enjoy!!
Chapter notes: Disclaimer: Naruto is the property of Masashi Kishimoto. No money is being made from the writing of this story and no copyright/trademark infringement is intended.
[Song] Disclaimer: “Gifts and Curses” and Yellowcard do no belong to me and no copyright/trademark infringement is intended.
/ is the lyrics of the song
Her jaded green eyes sparked with childish longing held only for him shone upon the enlightened face.

He avoided them. It was too hazardous to be whirled into another unforced feeling of contentment.

He had his almost unattainable goal to attempt. Would he give up what was called petty revenge in exchange for a blissful, unmoving life in this diminutive village?

/Mary belongs to the words of a song.
/I try to be strong for her, try not to be wrong for her.
/But she will not wait for me anymore, anymore.
/Why did I say all those things before I was sure?

He had so much he wanted to show her, a lot to tell her. Secrets left veiled and bottled up excruciatingly for years. He sought urgently to just be able to simply open his wintry, chain laced heart for her. But it was rigid. This was not a field in which he was skilled in. He was never told of anything of this. He was utterly perplexed and oblivious as to what should come next.

He did his best already. Wasn’t it enough? Did she see him? Did she see what he desired her to see? Did she see how he was trying so hard to protect her from the cruelties of the world, from physical pain? From emotional hurt by blocking out and rejecting her every agonizing request to spend time together?

He was at loss for words, completely tongue tied and unsure of himself. His position in life was unstable now, his formerly always organized thoughts suddenly jumbled, running into eachother contradicting.

/[She is the one], but I have a purpose,
/[She is the one], and I have to fight this,
/[She is the one], the villain I can't knock down.

He required so frantically to tell her how much she was ruining his life. Yet, she wasn’t. It was entirely opposing. Arguments firing endlessly back and forth like darting fish in his cluttered mind.

She was corrupting his once straightforward goal. But it was a pleasant type of obliteration. He was glad that she was included in his life, and yet he knew in the back of his nagging mind that she was the reason why he started to reconcile on this eased life. She was the motive why he couldn’t bring himself to detest any further.

/I see your face with every punch I take,
/and every bone I break, it's all for you.
/And my worst pains are words I cannot say,
/still I will always fight on for you.

He could live his free existence this way forever. Defending her. And with each adversary life stolen dexterously, he knew he was doing this for her, wasn’t he? It wasn’t against the world; it wasn’t against God, was it?

Was he knowingly controlled by her? Her silky cherry blossom colored hair, the florid, light fragrance that drifted about her, the lime eyes that glimmered specially for him.

Was he possessed only by her outer shell, uncaring about the inner part of her?

Wasn’t she just like those other raving lunatics?

But somehow, she was eccentrically different. She was set apart, and yet similar all alike. It was hard to express into merely spoken words, and nothing could be made of this reflection. He longed to be with her, yet denied it. He wanted to resolve for now, and not think of the future.

/Mary's alive in the bright New York sky,
/the city lights shine for her, above them I cry for her.
/Everything's small on the ground below, down below.
/What if I fall, then where would I go, would she know?

Albeit, he could not face waking up each day repeating to himself how he lost his ambition because of a silly girl.

He would be contented to someday settle down with her, but with an uncompleted undertaking at hand, he could not appreciate the splendor of waking each morning to a dawning face. He yearned to know what she looked like when she slept. He coveted to know if she could cook. He ached to know if she would readily do anything for him, just like he would tacitly do for her.

He would willingly die for her.

Openly cry for her.

Happily suffer for her.

Endlessly endure for her.

It was all he would exchange for only a glimmer second of glee. For a slight of depleted energy that was his joy. He would do anything for an uncomplicated, fleeting minute of even faux delight.

/[She is the one], all that I wanted,
/[She is the one], and I will be haunted,
/[She is the one], this gift is my curse for now.

All he required was an effortless one thing. Simple. One that supported the foundation and all bases of human life, wasn’t it?

So basic, and so sought after, yet never caught. He was like those old sailors, foolishly sailing after the fountain of youth. He was seeking cheerfulness, the one thing that no human has ever been able to accomplish.

How idiotic.

He could almost feel her radiating warmth now, as he stood outside her wooden, brightly lit home, unknown. He could almost picture her painted face, a dazzling smile fitting perfectly on her glowing, molded face. He could almost feel her skin skimming against his comfortably as she set to hug him again.

He would never be able to tell her how much he enjoyed her forced embraces. How it seemed like he loathed her with distaste, how he seemed to despise each contact.

He wanted to claim how blind she could be, and yet she kept persevering against all the bay keeping winds he threw at her. How she seemed to be able to thaw a frostbitten heart. How she innocently wormed her way into a place in his filled mind.

/I see your face with every punch I take,
/and every bone I break, it's all for you.
/And my worst pains are words I cannot say.
/Still I will always fight on for you.

Leaning casually against the side of her house, hands jammed carelessly into his pockets as he rethought in the biting, bitter wind of winter, his weighty breath visible through the air. Determined, obsidian eyes stared harshly at the grimy dirt ground.

He was strong.

Physically capable of any challenge.

Mentally prepared for anything.

He was the closest thing to perfection in a ninja anyone could ask for. And that was what he thrived off. Without the minute praises of a regular parent, he lacked too much.

But this.

To be emotionally ready?

This was something he had not expected, something he had never trained for. Would he be able to tell her of his planned confession?

He repeated each line with delicate care, wanting to make this thoughtless moment as faultless as could be. He knew that the outcome, good or bad, would forever be carved into his clouded mind. It would be the day his whole life took turn, like an hourglass running out of the last grains of fine sand. It would be the day he would either anticipate his much chased after bliss, or the day when he would be forever thrown into infinite depression.

/I see your face with every punch I take,
/and every bone I break, it's all for you.
/And my worst pains are words I cannot say.
/Still I will always fight on for you.
/Fight on for you...
/Fight on for you...

She was debasing his once undemanding aspiration. But it was a satisfying type of demolition. He was pleased that she was incorporated in his life, and yet he knew in the back of his distressing mind that she was the raison d'être why he started to reconcile on this relaxed life. She was the rationale why he couldn’t bring himself to abhor any further.

But it wasn’t necessarily terrible either.

- owari -
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