Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.

Notes: CobaltHeart likes this pairing so I thought I'd try it out, though I couldn't figure out how to link them in any other way then this ;

Illusion

They sat together almost every night, have been sitting together for almost a year, they never spoke to each other, never any need too. The light barely touching their booth creating an illusion of two friends having drinks, when it was two people sitting in silence content knowing another person is feeling the same.

Both only twenty-seven years of age and both seen more death and blood then most, though he enjoyed his work of causing pain and making people scream until they spilled ever last bit of information he wanted. He enjoyed causing fear among the masses but when the darkness settles and he goes to his empty home he remembers what it's like to be human. He hates it.

While she only wants to help people. The great fear gnawing at her every morning she wakes, ever day she leave the village gates, every moment she's awake, will she die today. All her life she was told 'ninja's aren't scared of death,' but she is, does that make her weak? It wasn't just death she was worried about, it's everything that makes her human. If she loves then she feels, if she's kind then she hurts. Her emotions always get the best of her and yet she knows she's only human, she knows it when she lay's in her cold small bed and she's all alone.

And that's how they both ended up where they were. In a small dim booth not wanting to be in the light or in the dark, with another person delaying having to go back to their dark homes with their cold beds.

Yet one night when the air was hot and dry causing her black hair to stick to her face and shoulders and making him sweat, little beads falling from the side of his face and on to his dark blur shirt making small wet drop imprints, the silence was suffocating.

Her crimson coloured eyes staring intensely at the man sitting across from her, her eyes traced the many scars on his bold head as though they were re telling the story of the many battles he had fought in. While he barely gave her a glance he could feel her eyes roaming over him in a sad way, almost begging him, to break the silence. He wouldn't, he didn't want to be the first to break it.

Another hour, the air drying her eyes causing her to blink plenty of times, she couldn't take it anymore, "Ibiki," she whispered almost fearful of what was going to happen now she had spoken his name. She got nothing in reply, "Why don't we speak?" Her voice sound weak and pathetic to both of them.

She when he didn't reply that time she gave up settling back into drinking her sake while looking at the brown wooden table almost wishing that she had never spoken in the first place.

Ibiki couldn't understand why after all this time Kurenai had felt the need to talk, he turned down the dimly light dirt road leading to his apartment, they had never needed to talk before.

He stopped as he saw the little building shrouded in darkness, no a single light was on, and that small twinge of loneliness caused him to slow his steps, still he walked towards his dark home.

The next time he went to sit in their booth he saw it was empty causing him to wonder if she was going to come at all. He ordered two bottles of sake and sat back waiting to see the black hair woman. He didn't wait long as he saw her walk into through the door wearing her usual red and white dress telling him she had just gotten back from a mission.

She came and sat down at their booth without speaking and Ibiki felt yet another twinge. Her hand reaching for the bottle of sake Ibiki moved swiftly and pulled it out of her reach.

Her eyes wide and unsure as to what happened and slightly confused. Ibiki cursed himself hoping that he wasn't making the wrong choice.

He held out the sake, "Would you like me to pour you some?" he grunted out with his rough voice, he watched as a smile grew on her face, he made the right choice.

"Yes, I would like that very much," a said to him in a clear voice, not a shaking voice or a weak one. A ghost of a smile appeared on his own lips.

To every one else they looked like friends chatting away without a care and once it was just an illusion but it's not anymore, instead the silent nights and the fear of returning to dark houses and cold beds became less real and more of an illusion in itself.

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Written by Jessica