Her eyes beheld his generous offer to a walk. She might have appeared hesitant, staring for a good while at him. Would accepting his offer mean more than just a walk? To follow him once more down a dark alley way, would it lead to her final destruction. Hadn’t he promised something like that years ago? The next time they met, he’d show her the path of nihilistic annihilation. Did Souseiki still hold good to his word? Or was this some trick to drag her back into a world she did not want to be in? A world where her constant companion was the guilt of the past. Those two darling faces that Souseiki had begun to know were the very ones she had been trying to run away from. Kotaza felt that she would go mad if she looked at either Yukimi or Yoku. It wasn’t something she was ready to test. They were the echoes of her shaded mistakes. But, Souseiki was the tester. Although he said less, his challenges resounded in a form much larger than she could resist. She felt her delicate hands sweep through the crook of his arm and latching ever so gently to him.
The pair seemed so deceivingly sweet, side by side, arm in arm in such a delicate manner. Her shimmer eyes were sweeping the streets with anticipation for a trap. She was playing so nicely into his hands. The pace was different than their other games. This pattern wasn’t like the usual Souseiki. He had refined his game over the last eight years. The Nara was reserved as he told his small tale. Much like their mother, the twins had met the wandering shinobi on a fateful night in the very veins of Susukino. The irony was not lost on her. However, one word in his tale stuck out. It came up from behind, thrusting a blade into that pale and defenseless body of her’s. Sennin. Sennin? Sennin! He, the deranged dipsomaniac, was Sennin of Cloud!? How did this happen? What in the world had been going on in this village that the Raikage would turn to Souseiki, of all people, to become Sennin? No wonder her children had been tricked into trusting him. A Sennin was a respectable ninja of the village, someone for everyone to look up to.
She just let herself calm down to hear the rest of the story. Now she knew exactly what she’d be up against. The maniac who had ascended to the throne of a hero. Ha, it was disgusting. Twisted was the better word for it, and Kotaza now knew why she hated this village so much. There were rarely any ninja of Kumogakure no Sato that could be trusted. She picked through every single man that had used her, every single one that had lied, and the ones that broke her heart by leaving (be it their own choice or another’s). Souseiki had managed to bedazzle her son with his skills. Her emerald eyes glanced coldly at his blade. Careful, all your running in the dark and you might just end up impaled on my sword. The words were a fine echo of the past. She winced at his jab, although he played an oblivious fool; she did not know her own children. The complete stranger that guided her through Souseiki could pick her daughter out of a crowd of girls, while Kotaza would be none the wiser if she took the wrong child home.
Where he took her wasn’t a usual spot for the two. To say the least, it was alarming. Did he exchange his penchant for noir scenes and obscure dives, and traded them in for the more sophisticated taste of Cloud’s elite. Sad to say, she liked the duplicitous Nanjirou better, not the one that pulled out a chair for her. The soft shades of pink, the flowery aroma, and those vile carnations, it was a trap, but Kotaza had realize too late. Plainly glancing over the menu, Kotaza wasn’t interested in tea time. It didn’t seem like Souseiki was either. Her misplaced attention was finally drawn to his face, which held a wide grin. It was too late to run.
She was horrified to turn around. That adorable little tap on her shoulder. If she turned around, she was finished. The muscles in her body bade her to resist her instinct to look, so Kotaza fought tooth and nail to turn around with a smile. It was like pulling a cat from a piece of furniture, her nails sunk so deep into the arm of the chair, Kotaza was sure she was stuck. Oh, how she wanted to just reach across the table and strangle that blonde haired fool. With a creaking turn, the chestnut haired Nara finally gazed upon her daughter for the first time in eight years. Nothing was so heartbreaking to her.
Those amethyst eyes of innocence, that celestial crown of white locks, and a beaming smile. As the girl tackled her mother and proudly exclaimed her excitement to Souseiki, Kotaza whispered, “my god, Kira…” Yukimi could not of heard it over her talking and perhaps Souseiki had not seen it, but she was sure that the jade eyed Nanjirou was watching her intently. He was probably rolling in his excitement at the nightmare he created. A hurricane of guilt threatened to burst her heart into a raining shower of blood and muscular chunks. She so perfectly reflected him, oddball appearance and all. That kaleidoscope picture of beauty. All she could see was a rewinding image of him, slowly falling to the ground, covered in arrows of jealousy. His limp body being dragged away. She never said goodbye. She didn’t even feel guilty at the time, but now Yukimi recalled it all.
Her hands mechanically guided themselves around Yukimi, pulling her in gently. She smelled like the soft scent of chrysanthemums in the rain. A scent that reminded her of the Nara Estate. Kotaza let the remorse of her past devour her, until she felt a streak of water threaten its way down her dry cheek. Quickly she freed a hand and wiped it away. “Ah, forgive me. I was overwhelmed. Look how beautiful you’ve become and how grown up you are. I hope your grandfather, and Souseiki,” she sent a small glare his way, “have been taking care of you. I enjoyed your letters while I was away.” Small talk, generic conversation at its finest. Kotaza was rather good at it all. She had the acting skills to reflect genuine joy to see her daughter.
“Tell me, where’s Yoku?”
