Murasaki Daidai no Iro Chapter 1, a naruto fanfic

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Murasaki Daidai no Iro

紫橙の色

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Translation:

Murasaki: purple

Daidai: Golden or Orange color (term used before being influenced by English words)

Iro: color

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Disclaimer: Masashi Kishimoto has reserved rights over Naruto®. This story is only a fan work without any pretense for lucrative points.

Warning: this story is…weird.

"Ah…"

Was everything a young Japanese journalist could utter when he felt the center of his gravity being twisted apart.

Sigh…

Was everything that he could react when he comprehended that when his foot had slipped out from the muddy path, he was falling into an endless pit.

Scattered papers flew dancing in the sky. His camera. Some of his belongings. Tilting together in a remote globe away from his ocular sense. Out of his grasp.

His eyelids closed.

His heart…prepared for the worst.

Hazed petals of air brushed his velvet milky skin, a flurry tunnel guiding to black stage.

Cold ribbons leaned, involving, moisturizing and enveloping him into safe cocoon, embracing motherly to his oblivion.

A heavy pang and he knew no more.

"Better?"

…smell of old oak and fresh pine.

"Don't move yet, you were unconscious for three hours."

A sudden dizziness.

"Luckily I was nearby, or you would be washed ashore through the stream. The river is especially violent on those days."

His dilated graphite eyes tried to focus towards the source of human sound.

Huh…blond.

"Where am I?"

A gradual revealing of clean teeth was presented. Young appearance…spiky hair.

The sun graced his daily rays warmly stroking that healthy skin, coloring it into an almost brilliant bronze cotton.

"My house. Don't move so much, you need to rest for now."

His ordinary orange yukata rose and dropped in steady serene motions, in tune with nature. Blending with the lush green forest decorating from behind.

"Thanks. But I'm already feeling better, I should go."

The antique floor made by bamboo leaves shuffled in response, exhaling his domicile aroma that lacked on his daily concrete life. The dizziness morphed into throbbing sensation.

"You don't look well. Stay a little bit more, I wouldn't mind."

"No. I don't want to impose so much."

The dampened white t-shirt, at standing, pooled droplets falling gingerly to the ground. Natural light warmed the fabric hesitantly, drying unhurriedly.

The wooden floor creaked, sustaining his weight concentrated on his foot.

"I don't find you bothersome at all. Don't worry about it. Stay a little, until you're better at least."

"I—"

Wobbly sounds on the ground.

"Aaaaah…see? I told you that it'd better if you lie down! C'mon. Put your head on the pillow. I'll bring you some blankets if you want."

His fingertips searched for a metallic smell from his soggy dark strands.

A crimson liquid played on his palm, consistent liquid deliberated his state.

"Eh? You got a concussion? I'll bandage you."

Soft aroma of bamboo stepped hurriedly away from him. Energetic. Goofy.

"From what I saw, it doesn't seem that we'd need to stitch the wound. But you got dangerously hit near your Cerebellum. Maybe that's why you was out of cold in an instant."

A fluffy vibration shifted the dried peels of rice inside the pillow. It slowly accommodated the new visitor, encircling around until it found a relieved position.

"You're a doctor?"

"No." The boxes positioned on the top of the cabinets tried to reach towards his owner. More constant rhythmical bumping echoed on the ground. "But I've read it on the book."

The pillow readjusted again, the pebbles inside stirring in growing apprehension.

"Oh."

"Don't worry about it, I'm not going to do anything extraordinary or anything that would open your skull, I'm just going to use some gauzes." The breeze undulated in pleasant mint exhales through the room. "Ah, found it."

White, slowly bridged ribbons of warm tenderness wrapped around the dark strands of hair, securely obstructing the throbbing pain sipping off. There was a quiet hum unwrapping in the atmosphere, heating in dizzying rays on his cold body.

"Thanks. I appreciate your help."

Another tentative of secure creaking on the floor, an embarrassed shuffling of fabric.

"You welcome. Huh…"

"So, where's the nearest railroad or town from here?"

The yukata sat in a dull pound, sketching the drums of his heart.

"Well…sorta…30 km, or more…"

"…what?"

The toes of his milky skin twirled back from his previous position, the friction generating an annoyed yank.

"You're quite…away from what you consider as 'civilization'. Sorry."

In this chosen millisecond, his ears finally captured and turned up the volume to listen the vibration of each cicadas singing near this antique house. The sudden attention of his surroundings, like plucking out cotton mounds from his senses made his body stagger once more.

"Since it's…already late, maybe you should change your clothes, or you'll get a cold. You physique is slightly like mine, so I can lend you some clothes."

"No no…there's no need, I…" His head again demanded some attention, his fingers tangled between the black threads on the head.

A silent squeak from beneath the host legs approached, other fingertips combing his dark hair mindfully.

"Hm…I bet you're having a headache now. Ah! I think I have some pills somewhere, I think they hadn't reach the expiry date…" A trail of orange tapping escaped from his grasp as rumbled boxes around.

"I'm fine. Just explain it to me how do I go to the nearest town and contact anyone possible."

Clattering, moving, worrying, goofy glassy bottles encountered each other, some stumbled on the ground.

"Just let me find the pills sooomeeewheeeeeereeee…"

"I do not want to impose so much."

"Hmmm…ah! Here."

What irony. Red pill.

"There's no need to—"

"C'mon, it's fine."

Their perspective tilted, for a second or so.

The only grayscale picture felt unnaturally foreign from place. Hours reflecting the offer.

Vivid and animate copy from the sky peered expectantly the answer. Grains of sand slithering in each passing minute.

"Alright." Soft alabaster color surrounded the crimson color. "Thanks. Do you have water for it?"

"Yeah! Follow me."

Brown sounds fell to the ground and was surrounded by green motioned kindness. The steps found an ancient well. Copper disk pulled, fatigued, in turns the heavy bucket full of water. An object dove inside and assembled some of its moisture.

"Here. Be careful on not breaking it."

Cerulean. Azure. It could almost be believed that this utensil sucked the perfect color of a cloudless sky and imprinted, pure, unadulterated around the cup. Each line was perfectly symmetric without any sign of inexperienced or unsure shape. It opened and finished elegantly, politely, the traditional Japanese courtesy, stunning but modest. Fine drawings adorned the clean concentrated heaven, complimenting and concluding into a perfect state. A true work of art.

"It's beautiful." Sincere whisper of wonder.

"Yeah! My grandpa did it!" The sun-kissed body relaxed to be sustained by the old well, the brilliant hue replicating on the inanimate object.

"Who's your grandfather?"

"Uzumaki. Uzumaki Shinichi."

Uzumaki Shinichi: the legendary artist in ceramics. All his works reflect a touching aura that was long forgotten in our technology era. Though a man from few words and fewer appearances on media, journalists jokingly speculate whether he indeed is a living being on this realm or is something descended from heavens to replicate such breathtaking creations…

The constant surrounding, muffled its buzzing, contracting until leaked through the seams.

"I've booked an interview with him one year ago. Where—"

"Ah no! You're the reporter that grandpa kept talking about all over those pasts months! I tried to contact you but nobody in your agency responded. I wonder if I got the wrong telephone number…"

"So, where's your—"

"Huh…he's not here. Anymore. I mean…" The gentle pressure in the ambiance blew in bitter condolences. "He had…passed away four months ago."

Unwords. Unturn. Unfair.

The natural course of time.

"…I see. I'm sorry." At reaching the final point, his elegant lips rotated the cold ceramic feel, drinking the pine smell of greenery forest. His onyx eyes blinked twice.

"It's refreshing."

"…huh? Really? It's just water."

"It's good." His throat quickly extracted its liquid in good amount of gulps, emptying the cup entirely.

"I'll bring you some clothes. While you change yourself, I'll fix something for dinner, is that fine for you?"

"Yes. Thank you."

His monotone pupils after the settling of our warm sun, could capture only monotone scenario. His hearing senses heightened in effort compensation, colorful sounds painting crusty, smooth, red or blue fragrance filling in the air.

Used on his metropolis ambience, concrete walls and smell of stillness, his core started to identify the closest touch with a human being and Nature.

The mansion was built from traditional Japanese architecture, the firmness of all four sides were produced not by unknown hands in mass, neither its concept was designed by brains from known firms. Earth essence and homely embrace pulsated alive in currents of nightly breeze. The building didn't shook up fragile from the howling, neither repelled the chilly breath, standing up steadfastly in fatherly grip, protecting his small organisms, welcoming the necessary interventions.

A distant nostalgia…

The field outside projected enormous sinuous shadows swaying by the wind, alive, lush trees circulated around the house in a shielding dome, the forest growing up in liberated freedom, preserving their thoughts in the accounts of eras.

He wondered, since this mansion lived so long in peaceful neighboring with nature, it acquired his character and scent, sensation of moss and the tatami located under his feet had a distant recall from mother earth.

His mouth caught up tinkering of kitchen utensils along with blazing sound of burbling liquid. Organized in clean plates, placed on a wooden table, enjoyable food was savored silently between them. Until,

"I'm sorry that you'd have to eat such things without rice. It's been a while since I'd gone to the town to restock those things."

"No, the food is delicious. But why won't you visit nearby town from time to time?"

Worn chopsticks contemplated upside the porcelain bowl.

"I used to go with my grandfather whenever he went there to visit an acquaintance or buy anything necessary for our living. But, since now I don't have any money to do so and I don't have any attachment with anyone in the town, I thought it'd be worthless to do so."

Freshly cooked vegetables were devoured instantly in the blink of his eye. The polite rhythmical munching copied the slow pace of old candle lights kindling inside the room.

"Don't you have any ability to use it as a living? Didn't your grandfather teach you anything about ceramics?"

"Yeah, he did. But…I'm not ready…" Slight stained utensils were gathered and piled up, placing it in the kitchen counter. The guest's plates followed courteously behind.

"Since I've made you waste your time coming here to interview my grandpa who'd already passed away, maybe I'd let you see his workplace as an apologize offering, what do you think?" Cold water washed each remnants of dinner, clattering organized the clean dishes.

"Really? It'd be an honor."

Fuzz golden illumination expanded in lit circle revealing paddles, knives, potter wheels and many unfinished works. There was also an aged furnace sheltering thousands of different emotions, blue-grey loneliness, yellow-green greetings, calm reddish clay glazing different masterpieces with unearthly framing.

The current philosophy of society infested his point as all those works could purchased for high values, pragmatic fortunes running in sold hearts. He pushed aside this thought.

In a darker corner, emanated inexperienced nervousness by green hands. Nevertheless, even though it lacked years of labor dedication, each finished product could express his feelings, uncertainty.

"Cool huh? All my grandfather works are here. It's so beautiful…the first thing I do in every morning is to polish all of them and admire a little. I'd never get tired looking at them."

"Yes…your grandfather was the greatest talented potter of our era. The whole country will grieve when they know the loss of such eminent figure."

"Thanks for such kind words…I bet he'd appreciate such compliments…"

A flash of sapphire hue blinked and contrasted inside the lit dimmed room. Was the brilliant color resurfacing from the young blond or from the perfect cup?

A tanned hand moved the constricted fire to observe his elegant position, long and slender form stood in silent aristocratic pride.

"Hey, my clothes did fit well in you. I'm glad."

"…Hn. Thank you."

"You're welcome. Oh, I guess it's time to sleep huh? I'll show you the way."

However, unlike his expectations, their leafy steps tracked a path made by minuscule stones, until it lead into some humble open air pagoda, hand-made structure carefully constructed upon caring hands. He wondered again.

"Sorry. Since my grandpa departure I prefer sleeping here. If you prefer, you could rest inside my house, though it wouldn't be comfortable to sleep alone inside such isolated place…in my opinion."

"It's fine. It's been a while since I've slept in such kind of places."

"Then I'm glad." Something fluffy pushed his straight column to lie on ground.

His vision tilted upwards to gaze towards the infinite painting, clearance void of color though filled with bright splotches of white.

"The sky is so dark. In the city, it was always sort of reddish or grayish color. And the stars are so bright. I can't see them in the urban area."

"Hm…? Really? So boring. I've always liked to observe the stars."

Which contact felt closely between humanity and God? The surface of life on our feet or the brush of essential elements surrounding and feeding ambrosia in our veins?

"Say, you're a journalist right?"

"So…?"

"Maybe you could tell about exciting stories in your career. Or anything thrilling that happened with you."

"Oh…no. I can't remember anything worthy to mention."

"You're kidding me…nothing interesting to say? I mean, you must have met thousands of different people. Hundred of different stories. Millions of different occurrences to tell! You don't remember anything about it?"

"It's not that there was anything worthy to catch my attention. To tell the truth, I've never wanted to spend this profession anyways."

"Huh? Then, why you're journalist anyway?"

Crickets cranked.

"My father is a journalist. My mother is too. The whole family are journalists."

The roaming sky recalled his opinion about simple duotone contrasts in his life.

"My brother…is one. Too."

"Huh…"

Blue flickered in night.

"That's silly."

His eyelids covered the only spots of color, preparing his slumber.

"I suppose it is."

It was probably nine am. So it was time for breakfast. September, days of hot dry inferno with thundering rain to bother him in certain occasions. Maybe it'd better to put an umbrella in his case. White t-shirt or casual suit…?

Until his white milky skin touched the humid earthly air, healthy leaves falling in cascades around his delicate traces, wind shuffling the natural foliage dome.

"Good morning!" An orange voice called up, energizing his static lying position.

"Good morning."

His voice thawed the grey remnants of impersonality from the day before.

"Hey, can you help me out weeding the vegetation here? If it's not going to be bothersome from your part."

Resonated a cheerful request for a city bug like him.

"Don't worry about it."

His knees crouched searching for strays to pluck out, a different type of concentration that he encountered in passage of his years. Vision squinted, aiming focused on the assigned work.

"Oh no! Your leg is covered with earth! Hey, take a step back or you'll get dirtier."

Startled shuffling of pebbles backwards.

"Sorry for staining your yukata."

"Don't worry about it, that's not exactly the problem here. I mean, you would mind having cakes of mud on your body, wouldn't you?"

Said the muddy color glanced back to his usual impeccable conduct, hesitant fearfully to be cleared off. However, they were the first signs of shade apart from his monotone life.

"It's fine. Besides, while doing those kinds of work you're bound to get all filthy sooner or later."

The sun sparkled omnipresent heating their exhilarating efforts, beads of sweat spent in satisfying proud results. Rays sheathing its greedy ground couldn't outdo the same shining vivid gems on the tanned face.

"Thanks! If you wouldn't mind then, help me out digging here then."

Dirt was roamed, pushed, pulled, softened in manual toil, the fruits of their labor picked to satiate their spent energies.

Brown scent couldn't feel lonesome anymore; copper, orange and olive stains dyed his cotton yukata with smug accomplishment, blocking his previous monochrome soul.

"Hey, do you have some water for me? I'm kinda thirsty."

The sun-kissed fingertips passed the perfect cup onwards. "Here. Be careful with it, though."

Ah. Stream of life irrigated the dried heart, his entire being soaked rapidly like a sponge. Soft and chilly.

"Thank you." His dark grey hue admired the Japanese cup once again. "I've never seen such beautiful ceramic pottery before. It's truly a masterpiece."

"Yeah. My grandfather also adored to gaze in his last bedtimes. You know, in the past year, he almost didn't create anything in his attic, that place almost got cobwebs and accumulated dust everywhere. Then, suddenly, before he passed away, four months ago, he restarted to build cups like crazy, many failed experiments and attempts, trying to reach this type of color. When he finally succeeded to make this cup, he destroyed all the rest and called it his final work, drew all the ornaments and gave it to me."

His ivory hands lifted the object, leveling to compare the strong imprinted hue covering his eyesight. The same unlimited color, the horizon, the living being and the inorganic masterpiece.

"Then you better take good care of it. Why are you bringing it everywhere you go?"

The sky dimmed a little.

"He said to me, to use it all the times, cherish and utilize it whenever I could. Protect it."

Request or order?

"I see."

Words couldn't make any kind of expression, therefore, food resumed the younger boy routine, cutting and cooking simmering fragrance spreading the room. Their bodies were pulsating in such narrowed concentration that they failed to count the blistering sun circulating until she brightened directly up on their skies, on her full strength.

They couldn't mind anymore, the initial awkwardness and foreigners was substituted by companionable clattering of picking vegetables to munch.

"Bored?" The mint flavor infested his gaze, azure hue.

"A little. Don't you ever get bored doing nothing in this place?"

"I have some books. Whenever I end my activities and have some free time, my grandfather made me read as many books as possible."

His feet explored further the long corridors of bamboo taste until it rested towards a worn out and decant room.

Different from the huge bedroom with simple and scarce decorations, the library had full rows filled with many types of different books, thin, thick, tall, short, new or old, though some were scattered across the floor, open wide and messy.

"Sorry for the chaos here. Pick anything you want."

"And that's where you picked all the information about medicine stuff, vegetation and other sorts. Though you've never done in practical field."

"Well, they're good to pass the time." The cubicle barely rumbled to welcome his old friend.

"Why are you reading here? It's not good for eyesight. It's dark."

The ground shuffled befuddled.

"Huh? And where do you suggest reading then?"

"Where else? Outside." His long fingers laced many tomes and slid the handle.

"Well…I've never done that before."

Scattering his inside world.

His memories admitted that it's been long that he spent time idly reading enjoyable occurrences. Without the worrisome of future, inhaling the present.

The sunset breeze fluttered the tip of grass below them, tickling smoothly the natural passage of time. Clock seemed to be such a useless utensil now.

Moonlight folded the last readable words as both began to prepare the dinner. As a participating guest, alabaster hands cope up to generate filling aroma, terms of acquaint affableness evolved to appreciated friendship.

"You know, since your grandfather taught his pottery skills, you're interested in this field, you could continue his legacy. The world of art would feel extremely grateful if you could do so."

"I would want to. I mean…" He glazed over the teal cup. "I wanted to continue his idea. He created the day. I'm trying now the color of sunset sky…dark violet mixed with reddish orange…it's a good challenge. Though I've never succeeded making those colors."

"It's a good objective. But why won't you start publishing your works in Japan? Starting your career."

There was a tentative gathering of words.

"Like I've said. I'm not ready. I mean…mine are far too ordinary compared to my grandfather. It's even pitiful."

Living beside a gigantic shadow…He could understand that.

"Don't demoralize yourself so much because of that. Of course your works will be infinitely worse than Uzumaki Shinichi. Your grandfather pieces were accumulation of long years of experiences, trials and fails among with few successes, if you fathom that short years of tentative tries will cover over thirty years of his you're utterly wrong. He had his trail of path. So will you."

The bowl kept struggling to grip tight on the tanned palm until it relaxed in contemplation and realization.

"You're right. Well, now that you're mentioning…"

"Then, I hope you'll have good results being published around our country from now on. Green products may obstruct sometimes, but you could at least sell it for a cheaper price for your living."

Movable dishes cleared up the end of their dinner in sultry gratitude as the fresh water splattered to remove their usual dirt.

Crisp branches exhaled their blooming expanded air, the warmhearted pouring silky eucalypt to his lungs, though his skin finally didn't feel unfamiliarity in the outset. Little stones adorned around his walk, however, the small sounds of sustain didn't bother his urban body from the uneven sensation.

The night fell on his eyes, the stars reminded now unshed tears of sorrow happiness.

"Hm…hey, how about the soccer world cup? Did Japan win the competition?"

"No…they didn't even manage to enter the qualifying match."

"Whaaat? So sad, why?"

"They lost against Brazil. Among other countries."

"…oh. Then, who won? Brazil?"

"No. Italy, they won the championship accumulating four titles."

"Tsc. Lame. Then, what about the royalty of our emperor? Is it true that we're going to have an empress for the first time in Japan history?"

"Who knows. The parliament didn't approve neither denied for now."

"Is USA continuing to invade Iraq till now?"

"Yes, though some people are asking the troops to return to their homeland. The war is stretching longer than they estimated."

"Hm…then, how about, how about…"

A yawn.

"Eh? Sorry, am I bothering you too much?"

"Honestly? Yes."

A blew of sulking air.

"But it's been long that I'm being the briefcast man." His throat bubbled some delighted brushes. "So, might as well do my profession for now."

"Hm…nah, I'll bother you tomorrow. It's time to sleep."

"Good night then."

"Yeah. G'night."

…

"You know. It's the first time that I realized. Nothing is pitch black. Every object, even in the darkest places, have their unique colored shadowed. Nothing is monotone. And even their forms have casts of different tones, gradient colors from organic shapes."

Nothing is made by only black and white.

"I guess. That's what makes out life interesting right?"

"Yeah…"

Sounds of flowing singing from the crickets. Fragrance from the wind. The earth never felt so close to his forlorn son.

"My profession. You know why I did that? I chose it…"

"…?"

"Because, if I was going to choose something else, it'd be my sign of defeat. I couldn't have that. Not at that time."

"…that's silly."

Chuckling.

"Yes, it is."

His eyelids closed, no longer to block stray thoughts, but to greet it in sweet resignation.

"I've always wanted to be a photographer."

"That'd be much more cooler. Since you're sensitive to colors and shapes, I think you'd be made for this profession."

"…Thank you."

His stressed muscles gave way to relaxing oxygen.

"You know, it's time that I should contact someone. I'm afraid that everyone will get worried if I don't give any notice for such long time."

"…"

The pair of miniature sky reflected on the black night.

"You're right."

Light illuminated his closed eyes. Warm rays remembered that it was daytime. Chimed the usual sounds of natural ambience, waking his drowsy senses entirely.

The chores was repeated diligently as a part of his regular day and once again, he didn't have any unusual feelings on doing it so. Though the companionable silence morphed into animated chat.

When they realized that the entire field was sparkling done, the bright sunshine was already settling in the divisible line between air and earth.

"I wonder, if I let this pot being only bathed by sunset everyday, will it acquire the color that I want achieve on it?"

Naïve hands lifted the raw material towards the bleeding star.

"Does it matter at all? In the end, I bet you'd only feel satisfied if you accomplish this color by yourself."

"Hm…yeah." The clay cup rested on the orange fabric lap. "I realized…I think I like the sunset because…" Smoldering blue gaze acquired orange mixture.

"It's the only instant when day and night will kiss each other as departure and arrival gesture."

The onyx eyes, also swarmed by warm color, savored the statement in quiet consideration.

"Hm…hey, do you have some water here? I'm getting thirsty again." His ivory hand cupped his throat.

"Sure." He offered the indigo cup.

The long fingertips enveloped the surface; however it finally felt the slippery compound and slipped through his flesh. Cerulean. Azure. Escaping from secure borderlines of human hands and running to the impending end as the gravity of Earth called the inevitably cruel finishing moment, calling to reunite ties and melt together. Touching the tip of the ground until it couldn't be quenched before every surface was filled with verve, decomposing into many pieces scattering all over, the cup wanted to lie down and feel. Crumbled, dispersed, fractured the prison of the same colored soul, his transparent blood sipping as throbbing remain.

"Ah."

"It broke."

"I'm s—"

"No…don't worry about it. Accident happens, right?"

"I apologize. I'll p—no, I'll try to compensate it…anyhow, somehow…"

"Don't worry about it."

Droplets of water trickled on the tatami, the liquid invading till the seams of their toes.

"You're right."

"Huh?"

"The water. It is refreshing."

"…Indeed."

"I should clean up this now…"

"No. Maybe we should step outside or the pieces will wound our feet."

"…right."

They paused to finally observe and match their gazes.

"Huh…I should help you up on the cle—"

"No no…there's no need. You should go now, or it'll get to dark when you reach the nearby town."

"Really…? I don't wan—"

"No problem here. You see…it was a pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise." He reached on his pocket and fished his business card. "Here. Contact me anytime you want."

"Hm…? Uchiha Sasuke? Uchiha, as in the typical ninja surname and Sasuke, the famous name from Japanese folklore?"

"Yes. That ones. I guess that you'll remember well my name."

"Heh. I guess." The blond man guarded with care the small piece of paper.

"And yours?"

"My name? Uzumaki Naruto."

"Huh? Uzumaki, whirpool and Naruto, fishcake?"

"It's not my fault…my grandfather used to tell me that my mother was a ramen-addict."

"I see." He turned his back at last to give another friendly gaze and spoke. "I'll see you soon, I guess."

"Yeah…but not now."

"Very well…not now."

And their lives moved so on.

Author notes: Sorry sorry. Yeah, this story…huh, it's pretty weird.

Eh…and to anyone who'll say: this fic was yawny…I'll totally fully agree. XD

Think of…huh, I dunno, the Oriental style of telling a story. Where what truly counts as important moment is the pausing and rest, not the action. It sorta frustrated me a little in the course of writing this thing, I've wanted to build phrases without verb but I kept on failing…ah, sad.