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What My Mother Said by BattyBigSister

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Story notes: Disclaimer: No rights towards Naruto, both manga and anime, and any related work belong to me in any way. This is a fan-made story, unrelated to the original creators of Naruto, intended purely for the amusement of other fans. No defamation of any sort is intended towards the original manga and anime, its characters and creators or anyone else related to the official Naruto franchise. This work is available for free, on a wholly non-commercial basis, and no profit has been made or is intended to be made by its production and distribution.
"You..." he breathed the word, his eyes half-lidded by pain. Sprawled against the rock, he was panting hard. Dank black hair spilled messily across his thin sweating face. One would have had to have known him well, and often, to spot the recently change in weight under the normally billowing cloak or the way his pale skin had become still more colourless with sickness. Even his partner, usually indivisible from his side, probably couldn't have guessed the difference as quickly as she saw it.

He, in turn, instantly spotted the increased swelling of her stomach as she emerged from the shade of the tiny wood. "I didn't expect to see you again," she whispered, her familiar space unusually serious as her woven straw slippers inched across the sandy soil towards him. The wind blew gently over the open landscape disturbing stray tufts of dishevelled hair, escaped from his ponytail, as he stared up at her. The deep furrows in his face lengthened as he squinted up against the bright sunlight into the dark folds of cheap heavy fabric that made up her kimono and shroud. It was almost impossible to see her face, even had he not been nearly blind.

"Hah," he whispered, derision clear on his face as she knelt beside him, still clothed in shadow in the rocky open plane,"You would not have come this far from your hiding place if you had not sensed my presence."

"I didn't expect you to want to see me," she clarified, ignoring his tone. Pale fingers, darkened from recently working with the earth, traced his face as she lent forward, stroking away the hair that had been stuck to his clammy skin, "You know everything I will want to say, though you will ignore all of it, and you know we will inevitably continue our old argument because of this."

"I didn't want to see you," he agreed, seizing her hand. Her heard her catch her breath as he trembled from the movement, but still he persisted in his clumsy caress, gently rubbing the curve of her wrist, "But I'm weakened. I underestimated the amount of time I have left. If I am to complete my task even the help of someone as weak as you will have to do."

"You make that sound so complimentary," she sighed, sarcasm stoking her tone, but she pulled his questing fingers gently into her lap, stroking them affectionately, "What makes you think I'll help you?"

"You shouldn't," he acquiesced again, his voice seemed almost laced with pity as he said it. His dark eyes traced what little he could see of her face even with his poor vision, as his fingers groped and entwined themselves with hers. "But I know you will. You won't betray me – even if you disagree with me to the end."

This made her laugh. The disillusioned sound rang almost bitterly hollow, even in its obvious amusement. "So cruel, using my feelings – our feelings – like this," she sighed, still chuckling as she clutched his hand tightly in her own, "But you are right, of course." She paused, catching her breath and shaking her head beneath the heavy worn folds of fabric. One hand freed itself from its grip on his and adjusted the cloth slightly as she lent forwards."I suppose I must still love you, anata(1)." And she kissed him.

Chapter end notes: (1) – anata, lit. 'you', but is also often used as a term of address between lovers or by a wife to her husband.
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