Ch.011 Kurenai

[~ 1200 Words]

~ A few days before the Uchiha Massacre.

- - - 🗡️⚓🌀 - - -

Location: Kurenai's apartment, late evening, shortly after Uchiha Haruki left.

The door clicked softly shut.

And Kurenai stood still.

The silence inside her apartment was deafening now, louder than any arguments, louder than any command she'd ever given. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears, echoing with the memory of his mouth on hers—confident, passionate, unapologetic.

She raised trembling fingers to her lips.

Still warm. Still tingling.

"What… did I just do?"

Her voice was barely above a whisper, but her breath caught in her throat.

It had been a mistake, hadn't it? He was younger. A Chunin. An Uchiha.

Her hand slowly dropped to her side. And yet—

Haruki wasn't like other Uchiha.

He wasn't cold, aloof, or hungry for validation the way she remembered so many of them being.

He was warm, maddeningly playful, and so, so present.

The way he looked at her… like she was the only thing in the room worth seeing.

And that kiss.

Kurenai turned, her back pressing against the door as she exhaled sharply. The memory of his arms around her… how gently he had held her, how fiercely he had kissed her—and that forehead kiss—it all came rushing back in a wave that made her knees buckle slightly.

She slid down to sit on the floor, her knees drawn up, her arms wrapped around them. She was breathing too fast.

"He's an Uchiha," she said aloud, trying to anchor herself. "You know better."

But her mind cruelly replayed the softness in his voice, the sincerity in his eyes.

Not all Uchiha were like the rest.

Shisui hadn't been.

Her throat tightened. She had watched Shisui from a distance once. Thoughtful. Noble. A gentle soul in a clan known for its intensity. And he had died—disappeared under suspicious circumstances that no one dared investigate properly.

And now there was Haruki.

A different kind of Uchiha altogether.

He was proud without arrogance. Teasing without cruelty. He listened when she spoke. He saw her. He respected her. And unlike Asuma—who had distanced himself, who always seemed torn between duty and purpose—Haruki gave her his full presence, effortlessly.

That kiss had been real.

Not a whim.

Not a game.

It had meaning.

Her face heated again. Her fingers touched her lips once more—longer this time.

She bit her bottom lip, then groaned and flopped backward on the floor.

After a second, she scrambled up and made her way to her bedroom, pulling herself under the covers and burying her face into her pillow. She gripped it tightly.

"Damn it, Haruki…"

She rolled over to her side. Then over again. Restless. Giddy. Nervous. She had trained to withstand genjutsu and illusions. But what Haruki had done wasn't a technique—it was real. It had shaken something loose inside her. Something long buried. Something hopeful.

And terrifying.

She clutched the pillow to her chest.

"What if he really… could make me happy?"

Her mind screamed against it. He was too young. The village would talk. The clan politics would complicate everything. She was supposed to be smarter than this.

But her heart—

Her heart whispered something else.

And that whisper made her blush like a girl again. Her cheeks burned. Her lips parted with a small, helpless laugh as she screamed softly into her pillow.

"Aahhh—! What am I doing?!"

She rolled again, burying her face.

She wasn't in love. Not yet.

But something had started tonight.

And that something was dangerous… and maybe beautiful.

And Haruki?

He was trouble.

The good kind.

- - - 🗡️⚓🌀 - - -

Scene: Kurenai's Private Training Room

The walls of the training room were lined with scrolls and wooden dummies, but it was the tatami floor that felt like the battlefield now. Light filtered through the tall window slats, striping the space in gold and shadow.

Kurenai breathed steadily, tied her hair up, and dropped into a low stance. She wore her training gear: tight shinobi leggings and a sleeveless crimson top that clung to her body with the sheen of sweat. Haruki, across from her, rolled his shoulder with a lazy smirk in his dark shinobi shirt and bandaged forearms.

"No Genjutsu," she said. "I want your body to think, not your chakra."

Haruki tilted his head, grinning. "I didn't know you thought about my body that much."

She scoffed and dashed in.

Their sparring was fast—fluid. Kurenai was sharper, but Haruki was relentless. He blocked a spinning kick with his forearm and pivoted to catch her wrist. She slipped through like water and struck his ribs with her elbow.

He grunted but smiled. "Was that frustration I felt in that hit? You sure it's not because I ate your miso soup last night?"

"Shut up," she said with a smirk, sweeping his legs.

He landed hard on his back with a thud—but before he could rise, she was already straddling him, knees pinning him to the ground, palms pressed firmly into his chest.

They were both panting—sweaty, flushed, close.

Too close.

Kurenai's breath hitched as she realized where she was. Her face hovered inches from his, her lips parted. She didn't move.

Haruki looked up at her—his voice low, teasing. "So… is this your victory pose, or are we improvising?"

She stared at him, lips trembling. "You're insufferable."

"And you're still on top of me."

A flicker of emotion crossed her face—hesitation, defiance, desire.

"I shouldn't do this," she murmured, almost to herself.

But her body didn't move. Her hands stayed planted against his chest.

And then she leaned down—and kissed him.

It started sharp. Like a release of pressure. But when Haruki responded—hands gripping her hips and pulling her down slightly—it deepened, turned molten. Their mouths moved against each other with hunger, with unspoken things they didn't want to name. Her fingers curled against his collarbone as she moaned softly into his mouth.

After a long moment, she pulled back just an inch, lips still brushing his.

Her breath trembled. "Damn it…"

Haruki's hand slid up to her cheek, thumb grazing her flushed skin. He said nothing.

Kurenai blinked, eyes wide as if waking from something. Then she abruptly rolled off him, sitting with her knees pulled up, back pressed against the wall. She touched her lips with two fingers—then groaned and buried her face into her hands.

Haruki stayed lying on the floor, chest rising and falling, one hand behind his head, the other resting where she had been.

She muttered into her palms, voice muffled and conflicted: "Why did that feel so... good?"

Haruki chuckled from the floor. "Maybe because it was."

Kurenai gave a short scream into her hands and flopped onto her side, cheeks burning, eyes shut.

And though nothing else was said for a while… the silence wasn't awkward.

- - - 🗡️⚓🌀 - - -