shigo

“You’re a kitsune?” Naruto sat motionless, staring at Sasuke, the pain of those words ringing in his ears. He was vaguely aware of Jiraiya leaning over and whispering, “Now’s your chance.” Naruto slid off his stool, the hem of his lavender kimono brushing the ground. He slid his arms into their opposite sleeves, holding them out and perpendicular to his body, and bowed low to the Uchiha. Not that Sasuke would know, but Naruto was gracing him with the highest regard someone of his status could bestow upon a lesser person. “I am Lord Kazahaya no Kitsune, great lord of the hidden kitsune village. I am sorry

“Hn, I wonder.” Naruto brought a finger to his lips in a pondering sort of way, his other hand on his hip. His sharp nails had protruded along with his fangs, and the one on his index finger indented his lip slightly; any more pressure and it would surely cut his lip. ‘Well, I guess it’s time to elaborate on my title. I’ll have to tell the Hokage as well, but at least, maybe, they’ll leave me to my task.’ Naruto slowly lowered his hand from his mouth and casually reached into his obi. As his hand searched, he watched the four shinobi before him. They watched him with cautious eyes. “I do not have tw

Naruto's eyes were sightless and his body unmoving as Jiraiya walked Sasuke and a clinging Sakura over to where he and the masked man were standing. He was vaguely aware that those ninja watching Sasuke and the masked man fight had gathered near them as well. "Ah, everyone, you have to meet my companion, here. Everyone, this is-" Naruto was snapped out of his unresponsiveness. Fifteen years of etiquette training and ego stroking had seared into him the need to introduce himself as his title demanded. He really didn't want to, but he thought maybe he could get a little information from the gossip-gals of Konoha if he had a little 'oomph' beh

The kitsune were known for their many tricks and illusions. So it was no great feat for Naruto to cast a glamour upon himself so he could travel to Konoha unimpeded. His short and spiky hair became long, and the color went from that of sunshine to the pale red of early sunset. Beautiful blue eyes faded to a drab gray, and the markings on his cheeks that proclaimed his birthright disappeared altogether. His royal robes were traded for a light, yet formal kimono of lavender silk that complemented his hair and eyes, pale red kitsune prancing across the hem and cuffs. The obi was of glittery silver, and it hid a few things he could defend himself

"Sasu-chan!" (Kiera-dono…) "What is it, Naru-dobe?" (Yes, Kyuubi-sama?) "Will you take me as your bride when we're older?" (I ask that you be my mate.) "Aniki says I'm supposed to marry a strong female to produce heirs." (Kyuubi-sama…) "But I can produce heirs, too!" (Our union will be a strong one…) "Alright, Naru-dobe. I'll take you as my bride." (Hai, Kyuubi-sama…) Sasuke… Uzumaki Naruto opened his eyes slowly, blinking away the last vestiges of sleep. He'd had that dream again, the one with his childhood friend and he promising to marry. It had been occurring regularly as he'd gotten closer to his majority. The time was coming for

'Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house, Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse. The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there. Uchiha Sasuke was nestled all snug in his bed, While visions of killing Itachi danced in his head. Sakura in her nightie and Naruto in his cap Had just themselves settled for a long winter's nap. When out at the gates there arose such a clatter, They sprang from their beds to see what was the matter. Away to the windows they flew like flashes, Tore open the shutters, and threw up the sashes. There in the night, on the new-

Yuki Eiri stood looking out of his office window at the snow heavily falling outside. It was promising to be another cold winter, much as every other winter he had known since he had moved to England when he was young. He momentarily let his mind wander to his younger days at a Shinto shrine in Japan. He couldn't quite remember what his father looked like, but it wasn't as if he wanted to. The bastard hadn't been the best father, and he sure as hell hadn't been the best priest. Shaking his head to rid himself of the memories, Eiri turned from his silent contemplation of the snowy night to his cluttered desk. On it laid the outline for the la