He likes to watch her, her warm-ups in the pale morning light, the grass dewy and slippery beneath her feet. He sits cross-legged and slowly breathing, while she moves through katas, with the sinuous grace of a dancer, stretching sleep tightened muscles. Arms raised above her head, spine arching as her supple back bends, long line of her neck curved. He pretends to meditate, as she dances in the morning light.
Tenten was as much of an ankle biting street kid as Naruto, but few know this. She was issued her own one roomed government apartment at the age of 12 as a newly minted genin, but before that; living in the orphanage was too confining for one as filled with vibrating energy as her. She would sneak out and skitter across the roof tops, sleeping on the sun-warmed concrete of Konohas slums.
The music was deafening and Neji wished he was anywhere else but this fucking gig, why was the floor so sticky? People were elbowing him in the ribs, no regard for his personal space. The music thrummed in his bones, and he felt a tension-headache blooming. Lights flashed obnoxiously in his face and disorientated him further as he made his way away from the stage (leave Naruto and Lee in the mosh pit, they could get whiplash for all he cared), until he felt his something bump into his chest,
“Oh shit sorry!” her white teeth gleamed up at him, tendrils of hair plastered charmingly to her skin, she wiggled around his frozen body and sashayed onto the dancefloor.
Maybe he could stay a little while longer.
He spent so much time with her, that eventually he learned to read all of her facial expressions, down to the smallest pull of muscle, and quirk of an eyebrow. His byakugan allowed him to see many things, unfortunately for the stoic young man, his talent for reading body language involved more than just the obvious, he noticed everything. Her hips tilting and swaying when she was aroused, her eyes dilating, her breath quickening, hair standing on end. And although he would never mention it, they were teenagers after all and nobody was free from the torment of hormones, but this happened often. Not just when she sparred with him, bodys close and adrenaline pumping, but on long boring missions too, Tenten was an easily excitable creature.
Inside that bubble of water, Tenten had had a lot of time to think. Trapped as she was, suspended and vision blurred, she could make out the forms of her sensei, fighting to free them all. She knew Neji and Lee would be fine, their superior lung capacity would buy them a precious few more minutes than she had left, the battle being over in time to save them. The beating of her heart loud in her ears, the building pressure of her veins behind her eyes, she knew she was going to die, water rushing into her lungs, as sharp as blades.
“call me back to the water”
Return to being ninja, to knives in the dark, throats slit to the bone and retribution as swift and silent as the night. She wasn’t a powerhouse like the other Konoha 12, but she was quick, muscled and wiry and used to working silently in the shadows. Her body was lithe and slender, she was completely unremarkable. She flicked the blood off her katana with a motion of her wrist and disappeared.
Neji Hyuga was dead, and the battle raged on. Neji Hyuga was dead, a fist sized hole where his heart should be, blood leaking from his mouth, nose and ears, his skin already cold and clammy. Lee is weeping openly, Naruto clutches Hinata. And they are sad, but they are alive, and Neji is not, and Tenten suddenly hates them all. She looks away, afraid they will see it on her face, that day she cracks a tooth with the effort of keeping herself composed.
And then his funeral, and she is regulated to the back, and Naruto and Hinata grieve loudly and publicly enough for her, so that day she breaks her thumb in her fist with the effort of keeping composed, and on and on it goes.
“naked in the cold sun, breathing life like fire”
Man against man
She didn’t really get along with Ino at the best of times, but for once she found herself sharing bench with the younger blond. Pressed together, hands gripping each other’s in a sweaty death-grip they both watched open mouthed as the combined team practise raged on.
A shirtless and rather bored looking Shikamaru dodged a gentle fist to the throat from a shirtless and rather irritated looking Neji.
Tenten couldn’t believe her luck.
The teams had all gathered, watching starry explosions in the sky, wearing the slightly musty formal attire from the back of the wardrobe, they all gazed upwards, mouths a little open, breath misting into the sky like prayers. They watched the flowers of fire bloom, and Tenten watched them.
Her kit-set family, forged like all good blades; in the white hot fire of reckless fight and flight.
Gold rained down upon her little family and she smiled, turning her own gaze towards heaven.
Okay, she pants, she seals herself, nerves cut off, muscles pumped full of electricity, teeth grit and fitted together. Sealed. She takes a look back towards her team, what may or may not be left of them in the muddy/bloody/puddled field beneath where she is perched. She draws two sai from the sheathe on her back, twirling them into comfortable grip, fitted like gloves, she is sealed.
Now to death she flies, all brutality and efficiency, slicing tendons and ligaments, destroying the levers of the body and bringing her enemy down. One after another, a hilt of her sai smashes the nasal bone into the brain, a nick in the groin of the femoral artery. Bleed out and die, she is spite and fury.
The training fields have become her home away from home, where her newly formed team takes its first tentative steps towards trust and family. Lee is utterly unformed, pulses of energy dancing off in every direction just waiting to be harnessed and channelled into focused excellence.
Neji is all control, brutality and poise, only 12 and already deadly, and even to Tenten as open as she is, he is a little frightening. The pale emptiness of his eyes reflects nothing, she can’t see herself in them, in him. He is impenetrable.
She, she is already soul deep in her own creation, one bound to earth who seeks to fly. And not the chakra infused leaps and bounds of temporary escape, she means to truly fly. So she turns to ink and paper, to immateriality, space time manipulation. Already she carries oceans at her back, tons of finely forged steel weighs nothing more than the paper of her scroll.
Then she forgoes paper all together, ink her only medium (watching Sai watching people), directly onto her skin, wrapping around her arms like snakes. With her blood she calls forth a whole arsenal.
And eventually, her back. Ink black as void on her golden skin, from the base of her skull to the tail of her spine, two black wings. Ready to unfurl, hidden in the nowhere she carries inside her, where all summons live.
Ready to fly.
Doin the cockroach
“Holy shit Shino!” unexpectedly and somewhat unfortunately, Tenten awoke in their shared tent to hundreds of kikai swarming inside her sleeping bag.
Being a trained and disciplined kunoichi meant that rather than standing up and shaking the tickling little bastards off her bare legs, she merely lay still, drawing a kunai and pointing it threatening in a sleepy Shinos diection as he scrambled to call his insects back into the cavities of his body.
And if they never talked about it again, that was fine.
And if Shino didn’t mention the arousing sensory overload of information about the feel and temperature and smell of Tentens skin he received from his returning kikai, that too was fine.
Tenten was not a reckless young woman, nor was she spiteful or petty, but like most hormonal ninja teenagers, she was prone to making regrettable decisions when tensions got too high.
And it was in this way, holed up in some god forsaken cave, she was hate-fucking Kakashi-sensei.
Yanking down the fabric of his mask, she didn’t even bother looking at his face before kissing him, hard and bruising. He gripped her thighs with powerful hands and ripped her netted stockings, pushing aside her underwear and his own.
She gasped and he panted, her back against the rough rock floor of the cave, his hot mouth breathing hard into the nape of her neck.
His thrusts were sharp and short, and Tenten moved to wiggle her hand between them to stroke at the apex of her sex, Kakashi gruffly battered her hand out of the way and firmly circled the sensitive flesh with his own hands.
She arched her back, hoping to clench down on him so hard it hurt. He pulled her hair down from its buns and she fisted his in a punishing grip.
Maybe she was a little reckless.
She smiled through kiss bruised lips.