authored by finish line

eighth wonder of his world

»:«

chapter 1. the lake of konoha

In the splendour of Konoha's Lake I'd wait,
keeping an eye for your arrival with my fate.
I'd lie myself among the field of pretty anemones,
and please come to me and kiss my face.
As my eyes watch the sun continue to set,
I promise you my waiting will never ever end.

Uchiha Sasuke raised an elegant, ebony-coloured eyebrow upon reading the short stanza of the poem he had seen beautifully scribbled upon a torn piece of paper. The pages of the book he got from one of the numerous shelves of Konoha Gakuen's library flanked the note containing the poem.

Throwing a quizzical look at the boy with black hair tied up who sat beside him, he called, "Ooi, Nara."

Nara Shikamaru's hand, which was leafing through a page of the book he was reading, stopped in midair as he paused and looked to his side. He lifted his eyebrows lazily and, sighing, closed the book he held. Sasuke frowned when his close friend yawned and stretched.

"Troublesome," muttered Shikamaru. His arms were still stretching upwards when he voiced out, "What is it now, Sasuke? Didn't find anything that might help you in the English project given by Takada-sensei?"

"No, it's not that," replied Sasuke, handing the piece of paper to the resident genius of Konoha Gakuen. "I'm wondering if you recognise whose penmanship that is. It seems to me that it's a girl's."

Shikamaru let his hand support his head through holding up his chin, his elbow propped on the table.

"In the splendour of Konoha's Lake I'd wait . . . ," read Shikamaru in a lazy tone. "The paper used isn't too old in my perspective. Why do you ask, anyway?"

The Uchiha's eyes settled on the paper in Shikamaru's hand. As Shikamaru had already asked, he also wondered in deep questioning why he was asking whose handwriting that was. In his opinion, the penmanship drove him in. It was simply intriguing. The way the hiragana, katakana, and kanji were written was impeccably beautiful. It almost radiated off something mysterious—something that made the concise poem even more enigmatic than it appeared to be.

"I'm asking you if you recognise the penmanship, slothful genius," replied Sasuke, placing a soupcon of sarcasm at the name he called his friend. He leaned at the back of the chair he sat on and folded his arms, now looking at the boy sitting beside him. "I wasn't asking you how old the paper is. Neither did I ask you to respond me with a question of your own."

Shikamaru shrugged. "I was just as curious as you are inquisitive of who the writer is," he explained. He set the paper atop the closed book he had been reading and, once again, propped his head with his hand. "You were never interested in useless and dull things as poems before, Sasuke, why curious now about a piece of paper? Troublesome."

The other black-haired lad could only narrow his obsidian-coloured eyes in annoyance. If Shikamaru was not going to answer, he could care less. It was not as if he was thoroughly curious about the identity of the poet of the short stanza.

"Besides, you wouldn't want to know who wrote it anyway," interjected Shikamaru, before Sasuke could utter despicable words. "And, by the way, you can't use this poem in our project. It's Japanese. English is troublesome, don't you think?"

"Ah, hn."

At that specific moment, Sasuke pondered on what Shikamaru meant by his former statement. He did not want to appear meddlesome because he was certain he was not that kind of person and would never ever be that. However, in one corner of his mind sprouted a question that somehow made a little sense.

What was the problem with asking and knowing? What did Shikamaru mean by him not wanting to know who wrote the poem? Could he have known who the poet was?

Later, after he was able to gather a few internationally acknowledged English poems, he secretly snatched the note away from Shikamaru, who had fallen asleep in the library. He stood up from his seat and stared at his friend drearily, pocketed the paper, and left his friend and the library before lunch break could even end.

»:«

"OOI, TEME!"

Sasuke's right eye twitched as he continued fumbling with his pencil and eraser. He ignored the loud complaints as his blond (and loud) best friend bumped onto many students upon the process of advancing towards him.

I'd lie myself among the field of pretty anemones . . .

The good-looking eighteen-year-old senior of Konoha Gakuen inwardly scoffed. It was autumn, and anemones were supposed to appear in early spring. But then again, he considered the fact that the writer could have written it during spring. There were many possibilities. He even considered the idea of the student (he assumed) having her mind living in springtime.

"Teme!"

Still, the boy ignored his vociferous best friend, but gave the blond boy a snide glare before resuming what he was doing—playing with his writing materials. His thoughts drifted towards the poem for the second time among those minutes.

and please come to me and kiss my face.

It was tender. The person, who wrote the short stanza and presumably a girl, might have been desperate enough by just thinking of that. To whomever the poet was dedicating the poem for, he would have to note that that person should be quite careful. The girl was getting highly delirious.

"TEME!"

"What do you want, Dobe?"

Sasuke finally snapped. He harshly looked up and glared with utmost intensity, not missing the way the atmosphere in the classroom turned gloomy and cold . . . not missing how his classmates suddenly gulped in the intimidation he radiated off.

Unfortunately for Sasuke, Uzumaki Naruto was not the type of person to be easily overawed by his arrogant looks and browbeating glares. Maybe that character was what earned Naruto the 'I am the Uchiha Sasuke's Best Friend' award of idiocy given by the (equally) idiotic students of the school population. Not that Sasuke was concerned about that.

"Our group has thought of an aaawesooome activity this coming Saturday right after our classes!" cried Naruto, evidently excited. He slammed both of his palms atop Sasuke's desk and grinned from ear to ear that the said grin almost split his face crosswise.

Sasuke's eyes narrowed. "Be sure that what you have to say is something important, otherwise I'd have to kill you personally," he threatened, his glare turning fiercer than ever. Mess up with Uchiha Sasuke and he would be sure as hell that his glares would be enough to be the cause of your death.

"Gah, Teme, you're actually the one who gave Lazybones this amazing idea!" shouted Naruto, enough to make the students within one-kilometre radius wince.

"Tone down, Dobe," hissed Sasuke. He already had his hands balled into fists (ready to punch the lights out of his best friend) and his veins were almost visible along his neck and temple. "Your face is already enough annoyance to me. Don't add up your loud, freaking voice in my already overflowing list of annoying annoyances."

The blond idiot merely rolled his eyes. "As I was saying, you were the one who gave Lazybones this freaking awesome idea!"

"How was I supposed to be the one who—"

"Ah, right!" interpolated Naruto before posing into a thinking stance, his index finger on his forehead. "He said something about a poem you saw and . . . . Yeah, that! We are mountain hiking through Mount Konoha until we reach the lake situated somewhere in there!"

If Sasuke were to share the truth, he thought it was not a bad idea at all. He could try to see if there, once they reached the lake, would be the person who wrote the poem he had seen. It was not that he was excited to find the person; it was that he would like to see if that person even existed.

He did not want to acknowledge the reality that the poem and its poet might be able to change the course of his life.

Naruto sat down on the chair behind the desk of Sasuke's seatmate. "Anyway, Teme," he started, "did you know that I and Hinata-chan actually got together just yesterday? I mean, wasn't that awesome? BELIEVE I—"

"You shut up, Dobe, or I'll cut your tongue," Sasuke intervened followed by a light punch on the boy's cheek. "I never want to hear what you've done to that poor Hyuuga heiress to make her fall in love with you."

"Heh. Try me, you dumb ass." Naruto snorted before rolling his cerulean-coloured eyes. "What else? Let's see. Then there's this teacher who got kicked out of school 'cause he—"

keeping an eye for your arrival with my fate.

Sasuke's thoughts wandered back to the poem. It was inscrutable—he was never this enthralled with a simple poem before. Every poem, he believed, comes with an underlying message. He wondered what message this short poem could possess.

"—then the student who committed suicide last month—"

As my eyes watch the sun continue to set . . .

By the time Sasuke came to that specific line, he was certain that the poet wrote the poem while watching the sunset. On the other hand, perhaps, for so many times he could think, there would be another clandestine implication.

"—then there's this dog that was seen—"

I promise you my waiting will never ever end.

The person the dedication was for was too lucky to be offered such a poem and—

"—then—"

"I said shut the hell up or I'll cut your tongue," hissed Sasuke with a snarl. "That or you'll shut up and leave this classroom right away?"

—Sasuke did not understand why he even wished it were dedicated for him.

»:«

The vast mahogany door grated open, revealing the black-haired young Uchiha walking in.

"Okaerinasai, Sasuke-bocchama," said the house cleaners in unison who lined up to greet the young lad. They all bowed simultaneously to the young master and waited for his usual and dull response.

"Hn."

Before Sasuke could even take a step from the base of the stairs, his mother appeared from behind him, tackling him into a strangulating embrace. Uchiha Mikoto and Fugaku were not home for the past month, dealing with business matters that were of vast significance.

"Okaeri, Sasu-chaaan," greeted his beautiful mother, smiling up at him. The eighteen-year-old lad turned around and gave his mother a small smile.

"I must say the same, Okaasan," replied Sasuke. He wrapped a hesitating arm around his mother's shoulders and said, "Okaeri."

Mikoto merely smiled and hooked her arm around Sasuke's, accompanying him into walking up the stairs to his room.

"I notice you sound so stiff with me, my son," she noted, nodding her head to herself. "I want you to change that right away. I keep on telling you just that, but you never seem to do something about it."

His mother lightly punched Sasuke on the shoulder when he sighed in exasperation.

"Anyway, how was school? Do you have any girl who you can finally introduce to us? You're eighteen already, after all." Mikoto looked at her son with hope evident in her dark orbs. She squeezed her son's arm and waited expectantly. "Your brother doesn't bring any girl home and you do not, too. I'm now worried I might not have grandchildren in the end."

The lad shook his head (which shattered his mother's high hopes) and turned the doorknob of his room, entering with the beautiful woman. He placed his school bag on his bed and unbuttoned his gakuran. He knew the fact that his mother's eyes were following his every motion but did not care, minding his own business. Unexpectedly he stopped, pursing his lips.

The mother knew at once that Sasuke had something to say.

"Eh, what is it, Sasu-chan?" asked Mikoto. She approached her son and sat with him on his bed before motherly wrapping an arm around Sasuke's shoulders. "Is there any problem? Tell me, I might be of help."

"Okaasan, this Saturday . . . ," started Sasuke, searching for the right words. "I can't go to the business meeting this Saturday after my classes. My friends invited me over for some mountain hiking."

Mikoto smiled in understanding. "And you want me to tell your father?"

Sasuke could just look at his mother silently. He had not seen his mother after a long month, but he would greet her home with a favour that would surely lead to facing his father's irritation about him unable to appear in their company's vital meeting. He was, after all, the chosen heir to the business after his brother had betrayed him and left him the troublesome job. Nevertheless, he did not loathe his brother at all.

"I'm wondering if . . . it's okay with you, okaasan," he stated. 'I know otousan is too much to handle when angered, so I guess . . . it will be fine with me even if you don't. I could always cancel—"

The dark-haired woman shook her head with a genuine smile. "No, no, go on and bond with your friends," she said, leaning her head to her son's shoulder. "I know you're just forced to accept the order of Fugaku-kun. I honestly think that he has to loosen up a bit anyway."

"Hn, thanks, okaasan," said Sasuke. He gingerly unlatched his mother's arm from around his shoulder and stood up. "I shall be able to repay you soon."

Mikoto smiled. 'You don't have to, Sasuke,' she said, standing up as well. 'And Sasuke?'

Said young lad looked at his mother from over his shoulder. He raised an eyebrow and waited.

"In the next five days, I and your otousan will leave to the gasshuukoku to visit the comatose daughter of a family friend," explained Mikoto. "I do hope that you'll be good with Ita-kun, okay? I don't want to hear that you've engaged into another playful (as you refer it with) and physical fight with your brother. You're already eighteen and he's twenty-three and for Kami's sake, you're now adults."

Sasuke smirked even though his face almost contorted into a sheepish smile. "I don't think we can promise that, okaasan," he said before pecking on his mother's cheek and lightly pushing her out of his room.

"Sasuke-kun!" called Mikoto in a reprimanding tone once she was right outside the door. "We'll be gone for a whole month—"

"Again?" came Sasuke's voice from the other side of the closed door. There was a frown glued with the tone of his voice.

There was a sigh before Sasuke heard his mother's voice saying, "Yes, your otousan and I still have other appointments to attend to. So promise me that this house will not be blown apart just because of your monstrous jokey fights with your brother. I shall tell the same to Ita-kun."

Sasuke could only sigh as he pulled down his black sweatshirt.

»:«

"Ugh, why did it have to rain last night?" questioned Inuzuka Kiba as he strained not to slide upon the slippery slope. He got a grip over a nearby tree and pulled himself up, panting right after doing so. "And please remind me why we're here again?"

Naruto growled, also struggling not to slip.

"It's—itai!" he groaned, feeling his chin meet the muddy ground. Before he could ever slide completely down and down, he grasped a nearby object, which happened to be a sapling.

His weight was quite enough to uproot the small tree that he could guarantee his heart jumped up to his throat, knocking the breath out of him. The blond boy's eyes widened in horror when he saw that the soil holding the sapling eroded rather quickly.

"Would anyone help me from here?" he asked, his voice trembling. He looked around for his friends but they hardly even gave him attention. "Uh, guys?"

"Tch," muttered both Sasuke and Hyuuga Neji, turning their backs to their blond companion. They looked at each other upon knowing they had the same thoughts and looked away with an egotistical frown. Able to witness the exchange of looks between the two swollen-headed boys, Naruto rolled his eyes and convinced himself that the two were not free from personal vanity.

"Ooi! Guys! Help me up!" he cried again, when no one else looked over his shoulder to look at him.

"Silence, Naruto," drawled Shikamaru as he and the rest moved on, leaving Naruto struggling behind. "We're almost there. You're being troublesome, you know that?"

It was Saturday, the day the group decided to visit the lake of Konoha—a place only a few ever visit. Right at the base of the mountain of the same place was a huge mansion (although it was quite nothing compared to the Uchihas') —the only building in there—where they found a man who could help them with directions. The old man, who courteously aided them with the directions, assured them that within an hour of walking, they would reach the lake risk-free.

Kiba and Neji, who were at the front of the hiking group, shoved aside the low-slung branches and leaves of the trees hindering their ways. Sasuke, on the other hand, turned around to get to his best friend. He extended out a hand, which Naruto gratefully accepted.

"Annoying idiot, we're there," he said with a frown. When Naruto had finally stood up straight, he immediately pocketed the hand he had extended.

"Yeah, yeah," said Naruto, a slice of disdain apparent in his voice. "Thanks anywa—"

Naruto did not continue what he had to say.

Sasuke raised an eyebrow, curious about Naruto's sudden silence. He looked back over his shoulder, but seeing only a few, turned his whole body around.

"ALL RIGHT!" yelled Kiba in victory. "Isn't this just what real beauty is? WE DID IT, YOU GUYS!"

One of the prettiest landscapes Sasuke had ever seen stood in front of him. The lake was clear and yet instead of being blue, it was green. Amber and golden and wine-red-coloured leaves were scattered everywhere, a sign of an early autumn. Floating on the wide lake were some of these leaves, floating like thousands of orange gondolas. The sunlight had reflected through the lake that it gave a very beautiful effect for the scene.

"Kami-sama!" cried Naruto. He ran towards Kiba and looked around, turning his whole body. He ran around the place and inhaled the cold breeze, taking in the beauty. "I SHOULD BRING HINATA-CHAN HERE SOMEDAY!"

At that, Sasuke watched Neji's face contort into a frown. "Just because you and my adoptive sister are together doesn't mean you can bring her here," threatened the Hyuuga. "Bring Hinata-sama here and I'll be sure as hell to bring you where you duly belong—in Hell."

Pouting, Naruto said, "Give Hinata-chan a chance to be a real human, you dumb ass."

Sasuke averted his attention from the two morons—as he referred them with—fighting. He looked at Kiba who was washing his hands with the cool water of the lake before he felt a hand on his right shoulder.

"Ever since you've read that poem, I know you've already wished then and there to visit this lake," said Shikamaru with a yawn. He withdrew his hands and placed them on his hips. "This is what friends are for, ne? Doing the most troublesome of things. What a drag, actually."

Sasuke smirked. "Yeah, a drag. Still, you and the rest did it. Yeah, thanks for this."

"Hmm."

Shikamaru yawned and sat down on the semi-wet meadow fescue. He leaned back with his arms propping him up from behind, and looked up to the sky, doing his favourite hobby of watching the clouds.

Sasuke looked back again at the lake. He did not know why but he was wondering if the writer of the poem he had seen was somewhere around. It was unfathomable—it was titillating. He wanted to know who wrote it—be it a girl or a boy. Sasuke even had the poem in one of the pockets of the backpack with him.

Then a thought broke into Sasuke's head.

I'd lie myself among the field of pretty anemones,
and please come to me and kiss my face.

Field of pretty anemones, eh? thought Sasuke.

Silently, he walked away from his group of friends and roamed around the meadow. He hesitated at first—but nevertheless did—and entered a forest-like part of the place. It was dark and full with trees that it was almost scary.

He stepped on twigs after twigs and, through the silence, an echo of clicks reverberated. Sasuke halted from walking amidst the many trees and tentatively thought of continuing. He surely wanted to know who the writer of the poem was and for whom he or she dedicated it to, but like a real human, he had emotions dwelling in the base of his heart.

Sasuke could be scared as well. But not too scared as his feet found the will to continue walking.

Finally, after a long, dark way, he found streaks of light at the end, which gradually widened as he neared it. Wincing from the sudden change of surrounding, he stepped out from the dark, and a number of Japanese anemones lying around the area greeted him.

It was impossible and unbelievable. No anemones were supposed to be present at the time of the year.

But right in front of his eyes were the impossible. Moreover, there, amongst the bed of anemones, stood a girl with long pink hair flowing with the breeze, looking up at the sky. She had a powder blue sundress with her that reached just right below the knees, her hands clasped at her back. As though there was magic, an end of a rainbow was right by the girl, somehow illuminating her. The colourful je ne sais quoi of the arc had dissolved upon reaching what seemed to be the middle and continued again from the other side.

"Ooi, you, over there," called Sasuke to catch the girl's attention. He pocketed his hands in his pants and continued, "Aren't you cold by what you're wearing? Summer's way over."

When the pink-haired girl turned around to face him, only one word echoed through his mind.

Tenshi.

. . . to be continued

I wrote your name in the sand, but the tide washed it away.
I wrote your name in the sky, but the wind blew it away.
I wrote your name in my heart, and I wonder why it did stay.

.romaji.

bocchama - a son of a wealthy person

dobe - dead-last

gakuen - academy, campus

gakuran - part of a boy's school uniform, jacket in a school uniform

gasshuukoku - United States of America, federal state

hiragana - the cursive syllabary in Japanese writing

itai - ouch, painful, it hurts

kanji - Japanese writing system that uses pictorial characters based from Chinese ideograms

katakana - characters used for transliterating non-Japanese words

konoha - leaves of a tree

okaasan - mother

okaerinasai / okaeri - welcome home

ooi - hey

otousan - father

sensei - teacher, master, doctor

teme - bastard

tenshi - angel

author's note: Eeep! :) Please share me your thoughts.
authored by finish line