cp11

Chapter 11: Woes of Feeling Validated

'Getting married is like trading the adoration of many for the sarcasm of one.'

The marriage was progressing as well as could be expected considering the wife-to-be had decided the groom was as useful as the dirt between her toes, and the husband-to-be had decreed that she was the worst sort of slut.

Did that stop either one of them from tying the knot anyway?

Absolutely not.

Yori was twisting and twirling through the crowd, making sure everything was functioning as planned and not as Shingi had planned (also, she'd checked thrice. Where the fuck was the salmon? That was literally the only thing she'd told Shingi to organise!)

She'd had to tell the prostitutes from Mama Clucky's brothel that there would be no lesbian orgies required—the blushing was legendary. She didn't know where all that blood had come from, but by god, this was just ridiculous and so help her, when this was over, Shingi was dead—and then had to turn away the body-shaming society (no, she didn't get it either).

Then the ice sculpture came through the door, and all hell broke loose while the bride and groom exchanged vows.

Well, actually, exchanging vows might be the wrong thing to say.

Karura-sama, clothed in swathes of gold-embroidered finery with three different brightly coloured sequined shawls draped over her hair, across her shoulders and around her waist, dripping with silver beads and pieces of glass worked into it, wearing jewellery inlaid with rubies and blood opals wound around her head, her neck, her wrists and from her ears in resplendent luxury, and with rich browny-orange henna patterns twirling and swirling from her fingertips to her elbows, from her shin to her toes, on her left check and swirling and twisting down her throat…

She was magnificent.

The makeup artist Shingi had picked out had outdone herself, because Karura-sama was probably the most beautiful person Yori had ever seen—her eyes had smoky grey powder dusting the upper eyelid, pitch black kohl rimming her suddenly large striking indigo eyes, and a dash of shimmering barely-there chocolate brown lip gloss—

She wrenched her eyes away from the bride, wondering how Rasa-sama could grumble about marrying her when she was just about perfection.

But the point that Yori was trying to make, before she got so thoroughly distracted, was that the ceremony was very similar to Rose's culture, where there was a human at the front who read something in a language that not many people understood, then prayed to a god that most believed in in a rudimentary sense, and then the bride and groom parted ways, until the reception.

Of course, from what she could remember, it had been Arabic in Rose's world, but right now it was in one of the tribe's ancient languages. She thought it might've been the fourth tribe of the fifteen tribes that founded Sunagakure no Sato, but she'd never been very good with history, or politics, or geography, or maths, or science, or art, or—

You get the picture.

But yes, while the sermon was going on as the bride tried to look suitably bashful and the groom tried to look suitably constipated (but all both of them managed to convey was screw-you-too-prick!), the ice sculpture arrived.

The stupidity of even having a six hundred pound ice sculpture of a swan of all creatures, was that it was a fucking desert. Which meant that the minute it was taken out of its chakra-padded container, it melted.

It.

Melted.

On the wedding cake.

Yori watched it, as if in slow motion, her eyes widening in horror, her jaw dropping and her tears welling, as the cake that she spent the better half of the entire budget getting made for over ten thousand people just…just get soggy from an ice sculpture that she hadn't ordered.

May God protect Nae-chan, because Yori was coming for her.

Sasori watched Female desperately try to mop up the water as it came crashing down discreetly, and scoffed.

Idiot.

What did she think would happen to an ice sculpture in the middle of the desert?

He nearly turned away, but someone (he was almost certain it was Komushi, but he couldn't prove it) backed into him and, owing to how tired and sleep-deprived and just about done with the world he was, he stumbled backwards and heard her muttering to herself.

"—and when I get a hold of her neck, I'll twist it like a chicken, and she'll squawk but I won't care, because fuck this water—"

Sasori…Sasori didn't know what to think about this.

"We're going to screw now, right?" Karura said, lolling her head back and trying to stay out of the sun. For all that she was a kamikaze, being pregnant made the sun just that much less bearable.

Rasa turned to her, his eyes raking over her prone, ripe body, and he grinned. "That's the plan."

Karura grinned back, energy seeping into her in anticipation.

And with them married, they could procreate like rabbits, while Yori had to suffer at the hands of clean up.

"I got three clients! Are you proud of me Yori-tan?" Shingi drawled, a twinkling light shining in her smoky eyes.

Yori was too busy muttering to answer politely, so she just said, "Great, congratulations. Couldn't've done it better myself."

Shingi continued rambling on about her sexcapades while Yori instructed the helpers in a harried manner, hoping that someone would smother Shingi with a pillow.

"Yori-chan!" yelled a voice, and even before turning, Yori regretted being alive.

"P-Papa, please do-don't—" she tried, but the man continued running towards her anyway, and he slipped on the icy water and crashed into the mahshi stall at 20 ms-1, ruining any and every salvageable part of this night by squashing the mostly unharmed mahshi under his knees and feet as he got up off the floor.

Yori was crying internally. It was like a haemorrhage, only more painful.

"Yori-chan!" he exclaimed again, brushing himself off. "You'll never guess what brilliant thing papa just did!"

The dread in the pit of Yori's gut was building up.

"P-papa?" she asked, afraid of the answer.

Papa Shin patted himself on the back a couple of times before brandishing a deadly-looking viper in Yori's face, its tongue flicking out and spewing venom angrily.

"I caught the snake, Yori-chan! Papa did good, yes he did!" he exclaimed, and it struck Yori, in the part of her mind that wasn't hysterical with fright, that maybe drunk Papa was better than sober Papa.

"Nee-chan," Nae said, her head popping out from behind the door. "Is there any cake left?"

The snake was a large animal.

Yori was certain that if Mama Haruka would've been alive, she'd have realised what was coming next easily.

As it stood, Yori gave way to a dead faint.

Large animals were scary.

"Nee-chan?" Nae blinked at her curiously, before Shingi finally broke off from her rather graphic description of anal sex with a camel-herder, and gasped dramatically.

"Yori-tan, Shingi's big breasts will save you!" she exclaimed rather proudly, bending down to rub herself onto Yori's fainted form.

From across the room, Yashamaru's danger senses were tingling, and he turned slowly to come face-to-face with Shingi's breasts.

As it turns out, Shingi needs glasses, but is too stubborn to get them, leading to all sorts of delightful shenanigans.

Yashamaru held onto consciousness admirably as the Kazekage's Sea Snake hissed, wondering when the clammy human would realise its offspring had fainted.

Even the snake was a better father…

Shingi smushed Yashamaru's sputtering face into her breasts, declaring, "Don't go into the light, Yori-tan!"

Yori, whose existence was filled with dead faints, promptly woke up without her father being any the wiser, after Nae poked her with a conveniently located iron rod. "W-Wha?" she said, trying to regain her bearings, only to see the snake and faint once more.

Nae was on poking duty again.

Meanwhile, Yashamaru's muffled cries were silenced by a woman who had a very low appreciation for personal space, and an even lower neckline.

This, it must be said, is the closest Yashamaru had ever come to losing his virginity, and probably the closest he ever would come to losing his virginity.

Such is the mental scarring Shingi provides.

Yashamaru was a younger brother of a sister whose mood might as well have been a seesaw, and as such, his threshold on this elusive 'dignity' and 'self-respect' were tenuous at best.

Luckily, he'd found a kindred spirit.

Yori had been transported to the backroom after Shingi had realised that Yashamaru wasn't, in fact, the wedding organiser, and had promptly given him her address with a wink.

Yashamaru had let it burn.

As he stared at his impromptu patient, he became aware that she was actually quite beautiful, if you were into the childish, innocent gimmick. Yashamaru himself preferred pretty girls who retained a certain innocence, and he was contemplating getting to know Yori better when she woke up—

The door burst open and there, standing in all her fishing pole, sour-faced cackling glory, was Chiyo-sama.

"Is that my granddaughter-in-law? Ooh, breasts developing nicely!" she said, cackling, and then she blinked and growled. "I have to get the wedding dress adjusted again! Nice going!"

She glared at the unconscious girl. "You're lucky my grandson wants to fuck you senseless! I want the kid named after me for this!"

Without so much as a glance back, she zapped away, clucking madly.

Yashamaru decided that Yori was far too much trouble, and nicely went back into his protective snail shell.

The rumours spread like wildfire for the next three months, enough time for Yori to restock her cushion supply (they kept getting stolen, and she felt a tad bit giddy—though she had no idea why—when she remembered it was Sasori-san doing the stealing. Of course, he could kill her at any time, but it couldn't be helped that she was getting used to the fact that everyone could kill her at any time).

Also, enough time for Sasori to acquire an entire room full of cushions and other personal items that smelled vaguely of tomatoes and vanilla.

Also, enough time for Sasori to develop a strange sense of peace whenever he caught a whiff of the smell.

Also, enough time for Papa Shin to acquire certain ideas that he really shouldn't have been exposed to.

"Yori-chan! Look at what Papa did!" he said proudly, hiccupping drunkenly.

Yori was being a productive member of society, and so didn't turn away from the broom she was using until after she'd swept the dust into a neat pile. "W-What is it, papa?"

He brandished a piece of paper into her face, and Yori blinked unintelligently at it. Reading had definitelybeen the hardest thing she'd had to manage in this new life.

She traced the letters on the flyer papa had in his hand and…

"Papa," she whispered in strangled horror. "Why d-do you have a flyer for-for…"

Papa Shin had created a flyer and distributed it all over Suna, enlisting every hormonal specimen of the male sex with ample booze money's help to turn his unwed daughter into a 'true woman', whatever that meant.

Yori was afraid of going outside now, which was just another addition on a very long list of issues she had with the world.

Papa Shin was happily contemplating the booze.

Yori fainted. Again.

Sasori was on his way to the missions desk with the most bored expression on his face in the history of bored faces, when he noticed a flyer on the ground.

Littering was the second-most irritating act on the planet, the first being reserved for people who weren't on time. Sasori's eyes narrowed.

He could've bent down and picked it up, of course, but using chakra strings was much less physically strenuous, so he did just that, and then skimmed over the text (riddled with spelling mistakes, honestly, proof readers existed for a reason) before his eyes landed on a picture of Female, nervously looking away from the camera.

He read the text again.

She wanted to get married? And she was asking for anyone'shelp?

Forget the war. Sasori had flyers to find and burn.

And no, he wasn't completely sure why, but since when did he care about reasons for his whims?

Of course, he doesn't get them all in time. And so, Yori gets exposed to many a dunderheads trying to woo her. ;) Soooo, how was the chappie? Review please?