Philosophical Zombie

cloudednine — Wed, 20 Apr 2011 03:42:47 GMT

Still alive! Man, the number of times I've had to write those words... Anyway, I have been writing, but only self-indulgent id-fic because all my energy is going into working out how to preserve ten metric tonnes of tomatoes and apples - yes, the self-evident answer to this is chutney, which uses both tomatoes and apples, but I NEVER WANT TO MAKE CHUTNEY AGAIN. It was traumatic, okay?

Possible next project: homemade tomato sauce, but that recipe looks suspiciously like pureed chutney, and I really ought to know better, right? On the other hand, it can't exactly go worse. /jinx

On a more successful note, I used the leftover apple pulp from apple tea jelly to make an apple crumble! How frugal, how economical, how domestic~! I amaze myself.

cloudednine — Sun, 06 Jun 2010 07:33:58 GMT

AHHHHHH Sam Stosur why must you break my heart so often.

cloudednine — Mon, 01 Feb 2010 10:19:07 GMT

I'm back! Safe and sound and happy, but my computer seems to have some sort of virus? My attempts to fix the problem consist of alternately poking and flailing, but until the computer gets sick of the poking and fixes itself, I can't really use the internet, alas. I have to steal my sister's computer whenever she goes out, which is a very unsatisfactory solution for both of us.

Ah, well... I will have to occupy myself by studying! and cooking! and playing sport! and doing other such uncomfortably productive tasks.

On the subject of cooking, I made lemon cordial yesterday that was ten thousand times better than the store-bought stuff, and we have blackberries and fresh honeycomb on the property at the moment. How exciting is that? And when I get my hands on some sweet tofu, I'm going to try my hand at Japanese cooking - especially kitsune udon and inarizushi and, oh, the sweet red bean soup! I nearly forgot, I liked that so much. And! I brought back tea canisters from Japan so now I can buy new tea! I'll have to conduct some intensive and arduous hands-on research to decide what I want to buy...

cloudednine — Sat, 05 Dec 2009 03:11:23 GMT

So. I am:

a) still sick
b) going to Finland in two weeks.

You would think those two things would be mutually exclusive - I wish those two things were mutually exclusive, with being sick the thing that was excluded. But there you have it. I'm going to Finland (and Sweden and Denmark and Russia and then Japan) where I am going to DIE, DIE like the wimpy cold-hating Australian that I am.

I dunno - I really am going to die of cold and exhaustion, but I'm pretty damn excited anyway. I'm going to see ballet in St Petersburg - I could not make this up. BALLET IN ST PETERSBURG. That's something straight off my list of things to do before I die. And not just that - Tivoli Gardens, Christmas in Stockholm, Nothern Lights (maybe! if we're really lucky), and then Japan. Kyoto, Hiroshima, Tokyo... as;lkfasdflk I cannot believe this. It's too good to be true. I wouldn't believe it at all if I didn't already have evidence of my rapidly decreasing bank account. as;dlkfjasdfk SO EXPENSIVE haha. It'll totally be worth it though. <3 <3 <3

Also, this morning my mum was hit in the face by a pine cone dropped by a cockatoo. Geez, speaking of things you couldn't make up...

cloudednine — Wed, 18 Nov 2009 08:31:19 GMT

Eight Deep-Fried Turkey Disaster Videos

You know what really amazes me about this? There are people in this world who want to deep-fry a turkey. I'm pretty sure that breaks some cardinal culinary rule, like: thou shall not attempt to deep-fry any animal larger than a saucepan.

things I like

cloudednine — Sun, 06 Sep 2009 04:56:01 GMT

The time when you come home from a party to a dark, silent house and turn the kitchen light on, put on the kettle, kick off your heels and pad around the kitchen in stockinged feet.

cloudednine — Sat, 05 Sep 2009 05:23:30 GMT

So, I was thinking about Prince of Tennis while I was walking home from my cousin's house, which can be interpreted in two ways:

1) I have Thoughts about Prince of Tennis - particularly re: powerlevels in the anime.

a) As person Ryoma wants to surpass, Nanjiroh is the baseline guide to tennis skill in the series. He's the ultimate goal - the strongest player.

b) Nanjiroh made it to the semi-finals of a Grand Slam tournament in his early twenties then abruptly quit. He made it to the semi-final of one major tournament. He wasn't the super dooper most famous and brilliant player ever to set foot on court in the history of tennis. He was very good, but within a normal definition of 'very good'. This sets the power scale to 'reality'.

c) It therefore makes no in-text sense to have Ryoma win the US Open at age 13. It does not make sense to have Ryoma enter the US Open at thirteen. At some point the power scale has switched from 'reality' to 'fantasy', and Ryoma abruptly accelerates from being a very talented thirteen year old who struggles when he starts playing in a higher age division (ie. against fifteen year olds) to being super dooper most famous etc.

d) You can't change the power scale of a show. Full stop. It'd be like if halfway through Naruto, Konoha suddenly developed nuclear weapons and ginormous space laser cannons. (...or something.) One-on-one fights become irrelevant, Konoha takes over/destroys the world, game over. There's no emotional conclusion.

2) But on the other hand, I was thinking about Prince of Tennis while I was walking home from my cousin's place. Um, why? I haven't watched or read PoT in over a year. But the US Open is on at the moment, and tennis and PoT are inextricably linked for me. In the same way military things and Japanese things make me think of Naruto, and general magic things make me think of Harry Potter. And american football makes me think of Eyeshield 21, of course, but that's because Eyeshield 21 is everything I know about american football.

This in turn made me think that you should be able to measure impact of a fandom by percentage chance that you will be thinking about it at any random point in time. Like, I'm walking home from my cousin's house. Am l thinking about:

a) Naruto
b) Harry Potter
c) another fandom (eg. Prince of Tennis, whatever I last read)
d) something actually relevant to my life (eg. what I'm going to wear out tonight, whether it's safe to cross the street)

And the highly scientific breakdown of the data collected from many hundred imaginary walks would be:

a) 40%
b) 30%
c) 25%
d) 5%

Which scientifically explains why I never know what I'm going to wear out until half an hour before I have to leave. Evidence and conclusion, all in one.

cloudednine — Sun, 30 Aug 2009 12:58:15 GMT

Aaaaaah I'm an idiot. I've been puzzled for ages by the fact that the rich text editor seemed to have disappeared, but I just realised that NoScript was blocking part of the update page. Iiiiiidiot.

Not that I have anything important to post. I am currently:

a) waiting for the Australia/England Twenty20 match to start in England. My household doesn't have pay TV, so I have to follow the ball-by-ball text commentary on cricinfo, eheu. Well, it's charming in its own way.

b) reading my way through the online stories for the Cambridge Latin Course, in an effort to improve the speed of my reading comprehension. I'm learning some neat vocab, too. Furcifer! Pestis! Fur! But I'm a little baffled by the level of violence - a disproportionate percentage of the stories seem to involve people being brutally murdered.

c) drinking Earl Grey tea. With neither milk nor sugar - I've never taken milk in my tea, because I don't like the texture, but I used to take two sugars. I quit a few weeks ago, and at first I craved really sweet tea every night, but that's pretty much history. Hurrah! My teeth will thank me, and as a reward I'll buy myself some China Keemun and Darjeeling and replace my finished stock of Russian Caravan, which I miss. Other possibilities: Monks and rooibos.

But, I confess, I have some Turkish Apple instant tea (is it even a real tea? I doubt it), which comes with premixed sugar, and I still drink that, and it is delicious. 'Nature identical apple flavour', mmm.

EDIT: No, wait, I've got radio commentary through the BBC site. Three cheers for the internet! And what's up with Australia's ridiculously poor luck? They've called the coin toss wrong in, what, six out of the last eight matches?

Review

cloudednine — Thu, 13 Aug 2009 12:00:01 GMT

1/2 Prince (manga) : 1/2 Prince (translated novels)

It is the year 2100 AD. Technological advancements have made possible the existence of virtual reality, and now the long-awaited has arrived – “Second Life”, a virtual reality game with a realism level of 99%. Provoked by her younger twin brother during an argument over the “unfair advantages” that female players have, Feng Lan is determined to beat her brother without using the benefits of her gender by playing a male character… and thus ends up being the first and only transgendered character in the entirety of “Second Life”.

In the company of many friends and allies, Feng Lan, now under the alias Prince, begins to make “his” name known throughout the world of “Second Life”. Yet reality and virtual reality soon begin to collide; with real-life friends and family becoming in-game enemies and in-game companions appearing as new real-world acquaintances, Feng Lan strives to keep her identity a secret from the world… and from those closest to her. With one problem following on the heels of another, what will the conclusion of the Prince Revolution be like? - (http://halfprince.wordpress.com/introduction/)

Let me say it upfront: I love genderbending. Disguises, genderswitch, general bisexuality... I love it all. But often I love it more for what it could be than what it is. When faced with blatant issues of gender and sexuality, lots of authors seem to panic and revert to 'me Tarzan, you Jane' type dynamics.

Say I have a strong female character disguised as a man; how do I signal the entrance of a love interest in the story? Well, he'll save her from danger, of course! Or he'll be specifically signposted as being more powerful than her, or he'll suspicious and intimidating... If a woman is at all masculine, the male love interest has to be more masculine than her.

Which - fine, whatever, if that's what rocks your boat. 1/2 Prince rocks my boat, and here's why:

1. FEMINISM

“I want to kill monsters to my heart’s content, using all kinds of crazy methods and moves, without anyone calling me a violent woman.

“I want to swear and cuss while killing and whenever I’m pissed or annoyed, without anyone saying that it isn’t ladylike.

“I want to be able to laugh after hearing an off-color joke, maybe even add my own retort. I don’t want to be forced to pretend I don’t get it, just to prove how pure and innocent I am, but I don’t want to be called a vulgar woman either.” - (1/2 Prince, chapter 2)

2. Strong female characters

So, having been given an extremely handsome virtual male body, what does Feng Lan do?

a) Get into trouble.
b) Fall in love.
c) Recruit allies, defeat her enemies and become the leader of a city.

While there may be a dash of a) in there, the correct answer is in fact c). This makes me so happy.

3. Non-stereotypical love interest

The love interest is a sweet, romantic bard who fell in love with Feng Lan despite thinking she's a guy.

"I'll care for him, share his pain and support him from the back! I promise! Prince, you are my dearest love!"

Gender role reversal, mmm. As yet, Feng Lan doesn't return his feelings (she's too busy french kissing the girls, I kid you not) but I have HIGH HOPES.

Short version: virtual reality, gender bending, feminism = things I like.

cloudednine — Mon, 27 Jul 2009 04:19:36 GMT

I'm feeling crazy anxious at the moment and I don't know why. It's okay when I stop and breathe deeply and talk to myself firmly about acknowledging irrational feelings and staying positive, but as soon as I turn my attention to anything else it sneaks back up on me, and next thing I know it feels like there's an anvil sitting on my chest. I'm constantly stressed and constantly scared.

I just want to shake myself and say calm the fuck down. Seriously, is there anything to be scared of? Pull yourself together.

Naruto 455

cloudednine — Sat, 11 Jul 2009 05:46:40 GMT

AHHHHH why can I not be coherent about these chapters I DON'T KNOW they just keep pushing all my buttons. Buttons pushed this chapter:

plot holes turn out not to be plot holes!
bad guys act intelligently and competently!
politics!
focus on adults!

I think the focus on adults is one of the main reasons why each chapter reduces me to incoherent flailing at the moment. I've always been more interested in the adults in Naruto - the Chuunin exam arc was one of my favourites, because I was fascinated by the examiners. I love it when the world of Naruto is fleshed out, so for me that arc was the point where I made the mental switch between 'pretty Japanese-style country populated by superpowered kids' to 'actual world with politics and economy and adults going about their own lives'.

I am bizarrely, possibly obsessively interested in the everyday lives of Naruto ninjas. How much do they earn for missions? Who pays for all those hospital stays? What's the ratio of genin to chuunin to jounin? What's the ratio of ninja to civilians in Konoha? How do you get promoted to jounin? What do the ANBU actually do? How is the Hokage chosen? - a recent chapter gave us the answer to the last question, and it made me SO HAPPY.

I know a lot of people have complained about the sudden turn the series took from 'dumb strong kid wants to be Hokage, can he overcome his enemies?!' to 'dumb strong kid wants to be Hokage, realises that an economy based on war makes true peace impossible, can he find a solution to the great moral question of his age?!' and I can see their point, but personally? I like this new Naruto so much more.

cloudednine — Fri, 10 Jul 2009 05:35:36 GMT

Yeah, so, the white shirt and white knitted vest the Australian cricketers wear really does it for me. 'Charmingly old-fashioned' may not sound like the highest praise on earth, but it is a sure-fire way to my heart.

cloudednine — Mon, 06 Jul 2009 12:46:55 GMT

Three and a half things about the Wimbledon final:

1. I know it's predictable, but I along with half the known world find Wimbledon utterly charming. The way the umpires wear blazers, the way the linespeople wear shirt and tie, the way I stayed up til 3am last night watching the 'gentlemen's singles' final... it's all so wonderfully old-fashioned. And even the grass surface itself is so much more attractive than the surfaces at any of the other grand slams. I mean, the Oz Open is my home tournament, but even I admit that Rebound Ace is butt ugly.

2. I had no idea who was going to win. 14-all (14-all!) in the fifth set and I had no idea who was going to win, Federer and Roddick were so evenly matched. In the end, although Roddick was playing out of his skin, Federer was the better player. But man, I felt sorry for Roddick. He played so electrifyingly well, and it just wasn't enough.

3. Shallow things: I love that Federer's wife doesn't look like a model. She looks like a normal, attractive woman. And apparently I do find Federer attractive, but I seem to forget when Nadal is playing, because it is a fact universally accepted that Nadal is unbelievably smoking hot. Seriously.

3a. I only saw the last point of the boy's singles final, but when Kuznetsov won, he looked up and around at the stands with the most wonderful expression. I could see him thinking, 'I cannot believe this is real. I cannot believe this is happening to me,' and he had an utterly lovely smile, and it made me so happy for him.

(format borrowed from copperbadge )

Fic: Rest for the Weary, chapter five

cloudednine — Tue, 23 Jun 2009 05:36:14 GMT

Title: Rest for the Weary, chapter five
Fandom: Naruto/Harry Potter crossover
Wordcount: c.3000
A/N: Rocks fall, everyone dies. Ha, I wish. Nothing happens in this chapter, but I had to get Harry back into Konoha somehow.

And so Harry found himself back in Konoha. Although he had not entirely anticipated the circumstances of his arrival (under armed guard, surrounded by dead bodies), he still thought it was better than wandering around the countryside, no matter how picturesque it had been. For one thing, he reckoned he had a pretty fair chance of getting a hot meal and dry bed tonight, which really all anyone could ask for from life.

Ah, he thought, as he caught Sarutobi’s hands flickering through discrete signs, and the answering alertness on the parts of the guards stationed around the nondescript building they were delivering the bodies too. That is, assuming I’m not in jail by tonight. I doubt shinobi jails are any more pleasant than our own.

He could hardly turn back at this point, though, and so he grinned and bore it - metaphorically, at least. He figured grinning like a loony wasn't going to help his cause at this point, so he limited himself to a polite smile.

As they walked from there towards the monument, with extra armed guards who just happened to be walking in the same direction, Harry asked Sarutobi, "So, am I going to get in trouble? Is it illegal for me to be here or something?"

Sarutobi took another draw on his cigarette, then let the smoke out slowly. "Depends on what you intend to do."

"I'm on holiday," Harry said, and Sarutobi glanced at him. "What? I can't get a minute's peace at home. I went to the beach for a week and some idiots tried to sneak a bomb onto the room service cart. Thought they were James Bond or something." Harry grinned a little at the memory.

"What about your war?"

"Over," Harry said, waving the concern away. "And about time too. Some people just never know when to give up."

"And you're here looking for them?"

"What?"

"The people who won’t give up."

"I said I'm on holiday," Harry said impatiently. "For god's sake, you're as bad as Hermione. I'm not working, I have no intention of working, I haven't had a break in five fucking years. Is that so unreasonable?"

Sarutobi made a noncommittal noise around his cigarette, and Harry resisted the urge to hit him. Bad idea, hitting ninjas. He'd already worked that much out.

"So, what brings you to Konoha?" the blonde girl asked from Harry's other side - what was her name? Yamanaka.

"Oh, I have a message to deliver." At the girl's artful look of confusion, Harry sighed. "Long story, seriously. It's just a favour for a guy I met."

"Who is the message for?" Sarutobi asked, regaining control of the conversation. Harry caught out of the corner of his eye the approving look Sarutobi sent at Yamanaka. "Maybe we can direct you."

What was it with ninjas and interrogations? It was starting to get on Harry’s nerves. On principle, he said vaguely, “Oh, that’s okay. I think I know where to go.”

"You don’t sound very sure," the fat kid said, and Harry mentally awarded him a point. There was no weight on that comment – it was as casual an observation as anyone could hope for.

He still wasn’t in the mood to reward it, though. "I’ll be okay," he said, looking up and around. He didn’t recognise the area, and he wondered where he was being taken. Changing the subject, he said, "So, please tell me we don't have to climb those stairs."

His escort took their eyes off him, looking ahead at the thousands of zig-zagging stairs that led up the side of the mountain that overlooked Konoha.

Sarutobi chuckled. "Well, normally we would, but as it happens we have good timing. We're going in here." He gestured to the large building in front of them. It was round, and red, with the sign for 'Fire' emblazoned on a sign near the top, and Harry was pretty sure he'd seen it on his sightseeing tour last time.

Which reminded him, he'd better not let on that he'd been in Konoha before, if they were going to make such a fuss about it. God, what had been written on his papers? Had he said he was a local? No, no, Harry chided himself. What was the use in panicking? No one seemed inclined to kill him so far, and why would they be, anyway? He was just a friendly traveller, boosting their economy by spending his hard earned cash on souvenirs and fast food.

With this sort of mental encouragement, he managed to get himself into an appropriately confident mood by the time they arrived outside a large, heavy double door, ready to segue into injured innocence at any moment.

"Names?" one of the masked door guards asked.

"Sarutobi Asuma-jounin with guest," Sarutobi replied crisply. They had left the two teenagers outside.

The door guard who had spoken paused, then nodded. "You're expected. Please go ahead."

"Thank you," Sarutobi said, and pushed open one of the doors, holding it open for Harry. Harry glanced around the room as he walked in. It was obviously a working office. There were various desks set up, most covered in piles of papers and pens, but no one sat at them. The room was empty except for four more masked guards and a beautiful, blonde young woman.

It took Harry a moment to place the face as the one that overlooked the city on their big mountain monument, just because she looked so damn young. The way people talked, he’d been expecting a middle-aged woman.

She also had really big breasts - not that Harry would be distracted by anything so petty about a possible enemy. Making sure that his eyes were kept firmly above neck level, he followed Sarutobi into the room.

The Hokage looked relaxed, but the look she gave him was assessing. "Good afternoon," she said. "I don't believe we've met before."

"No, ma'am," Harry said politely. "My name's Potter Harry. It's an honour."

"So, you're an old friend of Asuma's?" she asked, and Harry tilted his head slightly.

"Um, that might be stretching the relationship a bit. We ran into each other once, about five years ago."

"Oh, is that so? It's impressive you recognised each other after so long."

"Ah, yeah," Harry said, who hadn't recognised Sarutobi at all. "Right."

"And what a coincidence that you would run in to each other like that!"

"Yeah," Harry said, since there was really no other possible answer. "It was, I guess. I don't really know many ninjas."

"Oh? Which ones do you know?" the Hokage asked. Harry wasn't enjoying himself much. This felt way too much like an interrogation for his sakes, and those masks were creeping him out. He felt very strongly that the only people who hid their faces were those who had something to hide – and he wasn’t talking acne.

"I met a guy in Star Country called, um, Enzaki? But I think he was at least partially retired, because he was running an inn."

The Hokage steepled her fingers together. "I see."

The silence stretched out ominously, but Harry really didn't know what she expected him to say. "Um, I'm sorry, but why am I here? I only came to Konoha to drop off a message. It won't take more than ten minutes, then I can leave."

"A message," the Hokage said, and it wasn't a question.

"Yes," Harry replied, with a little more snap than he intended.

"Your papers," she snapped in reply, holding out her hand imperiously.

Harry stared at it. "Yeah. Well. About that."

The Hokage arched one aristocratic eyebrow. “Do you mean to tell me that you have entered Konoha with the proper authorisation?”

Harry mentally apologised for what he was about to do, then dobbed Sarutobi in without the slightest hesitation. “He invited me,” he said, pointing at the jounin.

“Yes, I’ll be speaking to him about that.”

Harry felt a little guilty when Sarutobi winced – but not very. Dog eat dog and all that. Instead, he spread his hands in broad appeal and asked, “What do you want me to do? I don’t want to make trouble.”

The Hokage leaned her chin on her hand and looked Harry over. He suddenly had the strong impression that she wasn’t sure what to do with him herself. “And what do you plan to do after you leave Konoha?” she asked.

Harry shrugged. “Eh, who knows. I go where the wind takes me.”

“How romantic,” the Hokage said dryly. “You’ll forgive me if I’m not reassured.”

“Of course,” Harry assured her. “I never hold a grudge.” As the temperature of the surrounding air fell sharply, Harry decided that that might have been a bit flippant. “What I meant to say was,” he said, holding his hands up in conciliation, “that I’m having trouble seeing a way out of this mess. You don’t want me to stay, you don’t want me to go… I mean, you’ve gotta choose one.”

Without thought, he had fallen back on a boyish persona – opening his eyes wider, pitching his voice higher, slouching a little like he hadn’t grown into his body yet. It wasn’t hard – his teenage years weren’t that far behind him.

He wasn’t sure whether it was working, because the Hokage’s eyes were rock steady, and all joking aside, they were beginning to make Harry really uncomfortable. He mentally revised upwards his estimation of her – he had known, of course, that she was crazy strong, but he now put her down in the small and exclusive category of ‘crazy strong and dangerous’, filed under the broader category of ‘people who aren’t your friend but haven’t tried to kill you yet’.

“To be honest, Potter-san,” the Hokage said, leaning her chin on her hand, “I think you’re lying to me, and the only reason I can see that someone would enter Konoha, lying about their background, lying about their motivations-”

“I’m not lying!” At the resounding silence that followed, Harry took a deep breath and said in a more measured tone, “I’m not lying. I have spoken nothing but the truth since I entered Konoha, and I understand your concerns, but I am offended that you have accused me of lying without any proof.”

As if she had been waiting for this, the Hokage smiled thinly and swivelled a piece of paper on her desk around, pushing it across towards Harry. He walked forward, aware of Sarutobi at his back, the masked ninjas in front, and feeling the intensity of their attention as a physical weight.

He looked down at the piece of paper. It was a photo of him entering Konoha, dated a month ago. Harry inspected it, then glanced up at the Hokage. “Well?”

“And how do you explain this?”

“I visited Konoha last month,” Harry said, and shrugged. “I stayed at the Blue Swallow. They probably have records. And, yes,” he said, holding up a hand to forestall the Hokage when she opened her mouth to speak, “I didn’t have any papers so I forged some to get in, but I didn’t do anything bad.”

“I don’t know where you come from, kid,” the Hokage snapped, dropping the forced politeness, “but around here forging papers is something bad.”

“I’m not from around here,” Harry said instantly, defensively, “and I didn’t have any papers and I don’t know anyone. How else was I supposed to get in?”

The Hokage rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. I hate arrogant little shits like you.” (“Hey,” Harry objected very quietly.) “Authorised papers mean that you have permission to enter our village. If you don’t have papers, you can stay the hell out. Is that clear?”

“Crystal,” Harry promised.

The Hokage looked at him. “Potter, has it occurred to you yet that you could be executed for this? You have no papers, after all. Odds are you’re probably a spy.”

“I’m not a spy,” Harry sighed. “But yes, I’m aware I’m in a dangerous situation.”

The Hokage rubbed the bridge of her nose. “And does that worry you?”

“Of course,” Harry answered, surprised. “I’d like to get this cleared up as soon as possible.”

She looked past Harry, at Sarutobi standing behind him. “Is he crazy, or just stupid?” she asked.

Harry glanced back at him as Sarutobi replied, his pleasant baritone sounding rueful, “Just a little crazy, I think. His teammates were like this too, from what I remember.”

Harry was feeling more than a little lost. “…I’m sorry?” he said. “I’m not really following.”

The Hokage sighed heavily, and some of the tension left the room. She leaned forward on her desk. “Let me guess. You were a ridiculously talented ninja as a boy, promoted early, probably stronger than most people you know.”

Harry blinked. “Actually, yeah. I mean, no, not at all, because I’m not a ninja, and how many times do I have to say it? But I can see what you’re getting at.”

“Right. And I bet you break rules left right and centre, and you’re just good enough to get away with it.”

“…Yeah. Usually. I’ve been arrested a couple of times, but they let me go.”

The Hokage nodded, looking vindicated. “Uh huh. And so when you see that something is forbidden by law in a foreign country, you’re first response isn’t, ‘I’m in somebody else’s home so I’d better respect their rules’, it’s ‘how annoying. How can I get around it?’”

Harry didn’t reply.

The Hokage apparently took his silence for agreement, as she nodded slightly. “Well, I’m not unreasonable,” she said, in a calmer tone. “Since you didn’t cause any trouble last time, I’ll let you have a temporary visa, but,” holding up a hand to forestall Harry’s comment, “on the condition that you remain under constant supervision.”

She looked past Harry again and said, “Asuma, I think you can take responsibility for that, under the circumstances.”

“Yes, Hokage-sama,” Sarutobi murmured, with only the faintest hint of chagrin.

“And you have my full and unreserved permission to kill Potter if he tries anything.”

Harry was glad that Sarutobi at least hesitated, but all the jounin said was, “I’ll certainly try, Hokage-sama.”

“Good. Now you can both get lost, and tell the admins to get their arses back in here.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Sarutobi said, and Harry was so damn happy to follow him out.

“You can pick up your visa tomorrow morning, Potter,” the harpy called after them. “And don’t make me regret this.”

“No, ma’am,” he called back over his shoulder, and hurried after Sarutobi out into the hallway.

They walked in silence out through the corridors, Harry too lost in thought to be bothered by the open stares they were getting from uniformed ninjas who inhabited the building. When they exited, though, the fresh air and sunlight shook him out of his reverie.

He turned to Sarutobi and demanded, “How could you not have warned me?!”

Sarutobi gave him a dry look. “What, that you were breaking the law?”

“No, that the Hokage was so freaking scary! My god, she puts McGonagall to shame, and believe me, McGonagall is not a woman I ever want to cross.”

Sarutobi was smiling faintly.

Harry sighed and shoved his hands into his pockets. “Anyway, what now? Do I have to go to jail or something until I get my visa?”

“Well, if you’re so keen on it…” Sarutobi trailed off, still smirking as he lit a new cigarette and took a drag. He was looking much more relaxed now. “No, there’s no need for that. You can stay at my place if you like.”

Harry looked at him. “…thanks,” he said suspiciously. “That’s awfully generous of you.”

“I am an awfully generous person – seriously, I’ve got to keep you under twenty-four hour watch anyway. I may as well do it in comfort.”

“And you’re not worried I’ll, you know, strangle you while you sleep?”

“Right back at you, kiddo,” Sarutobi said around his cigarette, and Harry pulled a horrified face at the nickname.

“Are you joking? How old do you think I am?”

Sarutobi looked him over thoughtfully, and guessed, “Sixteen?”

“Sixteen?! – oh, you arsehole,” he grumbled when he saw the way Sarutobi’s lips were quirking. “I was older than that the first time I met you.”

“If you say so,” Sarutobi murmured, and turned, completely unaffected by Harry’s glare. “Come on, I’ll show you where I live.”

Fic: Second Chances, chapter five

cloudednine — Fri, 19 Jun 2009 04:28:14 GMT

Editing now, which is always depressing. It wasn't until I reread this chapter that I realised the tone change is drastic enough to give you whiplash. Also, I've been spelling Tsukuyomi wrong, thank goodness I checked, and at one point it went from afternoon to night in the space of three minutes - hopefully fixed now. And in other editing news, I completely forgot that Madara had been the Mizukage. I'm going to have to rewrite part of Human Endeavour to somehow make that fit. Maybe- I dunno. More research is called for.

Anyway, still not studying, here's a chapter of Second Chances, revived from the dead! (Why did I choose such a boring name, seriously?) All comments and criticism will be met with streamers and party favours, ie. please.

Title: Second Chances, chapter five
Fandom: Harry Potter/Naruto crossover
Wordcount: c.5000
Rating: M for violence and swearing

“Mama. Mother. Hermione.”

“Uh, yeah, definitely,” Hermione said absently, not looking up from her book. Harry sighed, and jumped up onto the desk, sitting cross-legged on the desk in front of her. After a minute, Hermione glanced up briefly, then sat up straight and stared.

“Harry!” she hissed, and looked quickly around the quiet room to make sure nobody was watching. There were only a few people around, and the only sound was the rustle of pages turning and the scritch of pen on paper. “This is a library.”

Harry smiled at her, and made a show of settling more comfortably. “It's lunch time,” he said.

Hermione snapped the book shut with a thud, which did get the attention of the other scholars. Harry waved apologetically at the dark looks and jumped down off the table as Hermione rose, gathering up her papers and pens. They skulked out of the room under the weight of disapproving silence, but as soon as the door closed behind them Hermione punched him in the arm.

“You brat, act your age,” she said, but stretched out her arms above her head and sighed. “Well, I guess I had been sitting still for a while. Where's Ron?”

“He went ahead to order and save us a table. And watch the punches, hey? You'll get pulled up for child abuse.”

Hermione grinned at him. Harry had pulled the short straw this week – Ron and Hermione were both under different variations of an advanced Henge technique, masquerading as a married couple in their early thirties. Harry, unfortunately, got to be their son. For reasons Hermione had speculated about at length, people found groups of three adults much more suspicious than two – even more threatening than a large group of six or seven.

Well, whatever the cause, a couple with a child was the least noticeable grouping of three people they had hit upon. (A teenage older sister with two young brothers was best for eliciting sympathy and free food, though.)

Harry stuck his tongue out at Hermione and slipped his hand into hers. “Mama,” he whined, making his voice as high-pitched and annoying as possible. “I want ice cream.”

“You brat,” Hermione muttered under her breath – they were walking past some occupied offices. “I'll pinch you, see if I won't.”

“Child abuse,” Harry reminded her.

They kept bickering lightly as they exited the library and headed down the road to the BBQ house Ron had taken a fancy to. If nothing else, it provided good cover. Ron raised an eyebrow when they arrived holding hands, though.

“Hello, honey,” he said to Hermione, and to Harry, “good job, kiddo.”

Harry's eyebrow twitched, but he smiled at Ron, perhaps showing a bit more teeth than necessary.

“Did you order for us?” Hermione asked, heading off the impending argument.

“Yeah, it'll be here soon.”

They filled the minutes until the meat arrived with small talk. Harry had long since decided that the easiest way of staying in character as a child was to keep his mouth shut, and so he stared out the window as Ron and Hermione discussed the weather and a funny old woman Ron had run into that morning.

After the meat had arrived, though, Harry dropped his hands under the table and put up a few discrete anti-eavesdropping charms. Well, genjutsu, technically, since they required handseals, but they were similar enough to standard charms that it made no difference. Any one who tried to listen in would suddenly find some other conversation fascinating and feel compelled to listen in on that one. Anything they did manage to overhear would be impossible to remember – it would slip through their memory like water through a sieve.

“What's wrong?” Ron asked, keeping his body language relaxed, as if they were still discussing the weather.

“I got a message from Konoha this morning,” Harry said.

“I didn't know that,” Hermione said accusingly. “You should have got me earlier.”

Harry shrugged. “It's nothing urgent, I think, and it was addressed to me. He wants me to go back. Apparently there's some problem with my family.”

“What sort of problem?”

“No idea, but it's probably political. Knowing that guy,” Harry added dryly.

“Huh,” Ron said, and lifted a piece of meat of the barbecue in the centre of the table and nibbled on it. “The meat's ready.”

“That takes me back,” Hermione said absently as she neatly scissored a piece of meat with her chopsticks and popped it in her mouth.

“Yeah,” Ron said nostalgically. “It hasn't been that long, I guess, but...”

“Well, two years,” Harry said, but sighed. “I don't particularly want to go back yet.”

“I wonder how... our former team-mate's doing?” Hermione mused. “I guess he's still in the same line of work.” She suddenly snorted. “Can you imagine him taking a genin team?”

Ron snickered behind his hand. “Any kid with him as a teacher would be scarred for life.”

“I can't imagine it myself,” Harry admitted. “But they'll probably move him out of ANBU at some point, so they can get full value out of his reputation.”

“Yeah, but this is off the subject. What are you going to do?” Ron asked.

Harry picked up another piece of meat, but didn't immediately eat it. “I guess... I'll go back. If it turned out to be something serious and I wasn't there, I wouldn't be able to forgive myself. There's no need for you guys to come, though.”

“Hey,” Ron protested, but Hermione said matter-of-factly,

“Good. I want to finish my research here, and then in Kamiyama. I think I'm really on to something.”

“Don't tell me about it. Please,” Ron muttered, and Hermione scowled at him. Although her research had started out as a simple search for materials for wands, when that proved futile it had soon degenerated into an academic study on the manipulation of chakra through handseals compared to foci.

Honestly, even Harry found it difficult to get excited about it. He had been perfectly content to leave research behind when he graduated from Hogwarts, and had no desire to take it up again now. He and Ron usually entertained themselves, and they all met up for meals to compare stories.

“Well, I'll be safer in Konoha than Hermione will be here, so why don't you stay with her?” Harry suggested to Ron. “I'll rejoin you guys once I've sorted out my family mess.”

Ron looked reluctant, but agreed, and so Harry set out after lunch for Konoha. It was strange to think that it had been almost two years. The holiday had done them all good. For the first few months, they had approached it with the grim practicality they approached missions, but as they realised that there was no pressing objective, they had all relaxed. It was... fun, to be able to choose your destination on a whim. It was fun to create different characters at each town, to briefly get involved in the lives of ordinary people.

While Hermione was conducting her research, Harry and Ron had made a bit of a name for themselves – well, not as themselves, as such, but they'd cleared out a few gangs of bandits and low-ranked missing-nin under false names. It was useful to have a reputation to trade on when you needed it, but mostly it was just fun. There were some really strong guys out there, and if you were pretending to be freelance ninja yourselves, you were almost expected to pick fights with them, just to see who was stronger.

The answer was Harry and Ron, always, but they'd had some close calls. And about half the time, when they were fighting decent guys, they'd beaten their opponents up, kicked them out of town and left them alive and cursing. That was a luxury you didn't get on missions. If someone saw you, you killed them, and you just tried not to think about the state of your soul.

When the scenery began to change into the dense woods and rolling hills of the countryside that surrounded and hid Konoha, Harry found his heart lifting. He'd never really felt attached to Fire Country or the Hidden Leaf before, but this felt suspiciously like coming home.

Once inside Konoha, Harry paused at the turn off to the Uchiha District. He had intended to go speak to Dumbledore first, but being so close, he wondered if he shouldn't have a poke around and see what he could find out for himself.

In the end, it was more a whim than anything that took him towards his ancestral home. He kind of wanted to see how everything had changed - maybe whether anything had changed. It really didn't feel like they'd been away for long at all.

This part didn't feel much like coming home, but it did feel amazingly familiar to walk under the arch and onto the land that was officially designated Uchiha territory. It was late afternoon, almost dusk, and he admired the deep golden sunlight as it lit up the district that was his by blood-right. As he continued to walk, though, something began to niggle at him. He couldn't quite put it his finger on it, but there was definitely something wrong here.

He stopped, and looked around, forcing himself to consider the situation with shinobi eyes. There were none of the telltale signs of danger - no flaring chakra, no killing intent, no glints of light off metal, no sound of suppressed breathing. Everything was quiet.

Everything was silent. Between one heartbeat and the next Harry slid into the frame of mind required for business. He considered briefly going for help, but if the Uchiha district had been attacked then the military police would have been as well, and he couldn't exactly walk up to ANBU headquarters and say 'Yo, give me a hand.'

Instead, he advanced warily into the district. There was still nothing out of place - no fires, no broken windows. Nothing to suggest a battle, and he began to relax, wondering if he was overreacting. Maybe there was some big event on?

Those thoughts were wiped clear when he turned the next corner. Although he knew as soon as he saw the crumpled figure, he still had that same, ingrained human reaction - that can't be a person. The body looked deceptively harmless, like a doll thrown carelessly onto the road by a young giant's hand. The only sign of violence was the few clean lines of blood that marked death by fast sword.

As Harry approached the body, its face resolved into that of a woman. He saw that it was his father's cousin. She had run the bakery on the corner and had once scolded him for disrespect, then given him a free currant bun to make up for it.

In the implacably slow world Harry was inhabiting, her slack face didn't surprise him. He felt as if he had walked this street a thousand times before. He was walking in one of his nightmares, where the past melded with the present and he walked in the company of enemies and ghosts. It was the closest he had felt to the Wizarding World in eight years - as if just around the corner he would see a black robe and green light, or the body of a friend, and he couldn't decide whether he wanted it or feared it more.

Harry kept walking. There was still no sign of danger, which he was vaguely thankful of, because he wasn't sure that he was in any state to fight. Without thought, as if his destination was preordained, his feet led him towards his parents' house.

The house was dark, and he approached it calmly, with only a faint prickle down the back of his neck reminding him that he was very lightly armed and walking into a place that was dark, cramped and could well contain an ambush.

The house itself was empty, and he walked silently along the narrow path to the dojo and slid the door open. His father was holding his mother, head fallen forward, hair shadowing his face. Her pale face caught the light, and Harry wondered distantly how they had died. Had Fugaku been trying to protect his wife when the sword slid home? Had he died as he rocked her, lost in grief? Or had the killers arranged them like this, in a mocking parody of a loving embrace?

Harry could have sworn he was alone in the room, but a dark figure abruptly loomed out of the shadows. Harry stepped back, then relaxed when he saw it was Itachi.

"Who did this?" Harry asked. "What's going on?"

"I did it," Itachi replied. Harry couldn't see his face in the shadows caused by the late afternoon sun. All he could see was Itachi's slowly revolving Sharingan.

"Don't be ridiculous," Harry retorted, but he felt goosebumps rise on his arms, and a very clear voice at the back of his head was saying, you're only lightly armed. "Do you know who's behind this?"

"I wanted to test my capacity," Itachi said. "You're the last one."

Harry's hand was moving slowly back for a storage scroll. He had his own Sharingan activated, but he said, "Bullshit. I don't know what you're trying to pull, but you may as well-"

"Tsukuyomi."

The world dissolved in red and black, and Harry barely bit back a scream as Fugaku was suddenly right there, alive with red eyes and weapon drawn.

"Itachi!" Fugaku roared, and then staggered, as clean steel appeared through his chest.

Cousin Azuko was carrying four bags of groceries, looking cross, when suddenly her head was rolling across the floor.

Uncle Sado was reaching for the bottle of sake when he slumped forward-

- Keiko was shouting at her children, and lived long enough to see them die -

- Haruhiko was sleeping with Keisuke's wife -

- Keisuke was half way home from work -

- Takane was doing the dishes, and dropped the soapy plate as the tanto crunched through the base of her skull -

- Mikoto opened the door and smiled. "Itachi! Welcome home - we didn't expect you until -"

Harry reeled as the world spun around him, red with blood and black with shadows, and suddenly Fugaku was right there in front of him, with red eyes and weapon drawn. "Itachi!" Fugaku roared -

"Oh god," Harry whispered, as he watching all his hundreds of relatives begin to die again. "Itachi."

He wasn't sure how long he spent trapped in Itachi's illusion, fighting against shadows and running from death scene to death scene. It felt like ten thousand years, and when the world resolved itself back into Itachi's eyes, he felt as if he had died every one of those deaths himself.

His knees gave way beneath him, which was probably the only thing that saved him as Itachi's tanto whistled above his head. He managed to catch the second stroke on a kunai, though, then forced Itachi to block himself by throwing the kunai hard at his stomach.

That won Harry enough space to pull himself back to his feet, and he steadied himself on the wall, desperately trying to pull his shattered mind back together. He saw Itachi's next attack coming and deflected it with another kunai. This time, instead of throwing it, he slid it fast down the blade towards Itachi's hand, and although Itachi pulled back nearly as quickly he only escaped with a long shallow gash across his knuckles.

That steadied Harry a little. Even if he had just survived something very close to hell, even if he felt more beaten and weary than he had felt in years, even if his brother was freakishly, terrifyingly strong for a thirteen year old, Harry was still faster. He could work with that.

Itachi approached more warily this time, and Harry used the time to think, keeping his eyes on Itachi's torso. Harry had the edge in speed, but Itachi was better armed and probably didn't feel like he'd been trampled by a herd of elephants. Harry could use fire-based ninjutsu, but Itachi could probably use it better, though Harry wasn't sure. Genjutsu was useless for both of them. The only advantage Harry had was that Itachi didn't know he had the Mangekyo Sharingan, but Harry didn't have the chakra to use it more than once.

As he had many, many times over the last eight years, Harry wished with all his heart for a wand. It was only a fleeting wish, though, because then there were two swords coming at Harry from opposite sides. Harry looked through the genjutsu, and then the one behind, and then on a hunch looked even deeper and saw through the third. It was purely out of instinct that he threw up a few genjutsu of his own - half-hearted things, which had Harry trying this attack or that attack. Harry didn't put much power into them. Instead, he waited until a bare second before Itachi had broken the last one, and threw all his weight behind his favourite genjutsu, an illusion that showed the subject whatever they expected to see.

That did catch Itachi for a moment, and he leapt back warily. Harry took the chance to escape out the door, heading for Dumbledore and assistance.

He ducked - there was no thought involved. His body moved of its own volition, and Itachi's sword sliced through his hair, scoring a line of pain across his scalp. He was back in the room, and Itachi was right fucking there.

As Itachi's weight changed to pull back - and the world was moving more slowly than Harry had ever seen before, and even the smallest twitch of the smallest muscle in Itachi's leg was lit up in Harry's vision like lightening - Harry drove a kunai through his wrist, snapping the tendon, and just ducked out of the way as the tanto fell. Three kunai used, two remaining. Harry blocked Itachi's left-handed kunai strike with kunai number four, then used his own left hand to send three shuriken singing towards Itachi's head. Itachi moved out of the way easily, slid out of the paths of the chakra strings Harry had attached to them, and Harry hit him with his best Fire Dragon technique, focusing it so intently that it was barely the diameter of an orange and blue flames flickered at the core. Even with all his control, the heat was intense. It hit Harry like a physical impact, and his eyes automatically tracked the beads of sweat which began to roll down Itachi's face as he dodged. Itachi's eyes flickered up to Harry's in preparation for another genjutsu, but Harry was ready this time.

Tsukuyomi, he mouthed, feeling the burn of eyes pushing beyond their natural limits, and Itachi froze, eyes glazing over.

Behind Harry, Itachi's tanto finally clattered to the floor.

The chakra drain of Tsukuyomi was so immense that Harry felt as if he was falling, even as his feet remained steady on the wooden floor. Only three seconds passed for him; two breaths and Itachi was staggering back, and in Harry's mind rested the visual transcript of the three days he had just spent torturing his brother.

He finally understood why the Uchihas were so obsessive about mental training, but that understanding was only a brief flash of distraction through a mind that had only one purpose. Itachi only took one step backwards as he staggered, but Harry was there. He didn't mess around this time. He had used more chakra in the past three minutes than he had in the previous three months, and he wasn't quite sure how much more he could call on before he killed himself, but Harry had never believed in playing it safe. He hit Itachi with his very best genjutsu, backed by nearly all the chakra he had left.

For a moment he thought Itachi was going to throw the genjutsu off - because it simulated an environment exactly the same as the real one, it was hard to make it stick. It was a fiendishly difficult little trick, but Harry had never regretted the countless hours he had devoted to it, and he had no cause to regret them now as Itachi faltered. Harry was aware in the corner of his mind which was holding the jutsu that Itachi believed that Harry had lunged for him with a kunai, and Itachi was now countering, but none of those messages were reaching Itachi's limbs. Itachi had already been stumbling, and without conscious control of his body he fell heavily against the wall.

Unfortunately, the pain of hitting the wall woke him from the technique, but that was okay. Harry hadn't been waiting around to see what would happen. By the time Itachi's eyes flew open in shock, Harry had him bound to the wall with ropes of chakra, near impossible to break, had cut the tendons in his remaining good wrist and was disarming him - fast, and thoroughly.

When he was done, Harry back away a few steps and sat down hard.

Itachi looked down at him. His Sharingan had faded to black, and Harry suddenly realised that his own Sharingan had deactivated as well. He was out of chakra. He'd gambled his strength on that last move, and it had worked, and now he just had to hope that reinforcements showed up before he couldn't hold Itachi any longer.

"Sasuke..." Itachi said quietly.

"Yeah," Harry replied. It was hard, but he controlled the anger that was rising over his mission focus enough to keep his tone equally quiet as he said, "Aniki."

"You've become strong," Itachi said, voice as unreadable as ever. Harry wondered if he'd even noticed that his blood was trickling down the wall.

"I've always been strong," he said, baring his teeth in an unfriendly smile. "You, on the other hand, have never been stupid before."

"I have often been stupid," Itachi said.

"Shut the fuck up." And so much for controlling his temper - Harry breathed deeply. His head ached so much he could barely think - his heart hurt so much he could barely think. "Who did this?"

"I did," Itachi said.

"Bull-fucking-shit," Harry said, resorting to profanity when eloquence failed him. "I couldn't take out the entire clan by myself, and I'm not the one tied to the wall here."

Itachi made no reply. Christ, Harry had neither the strength nor the objectivity required for an interrogation, and it was his brother, god, his family-

He pulled himself back together with sheer force of will. "I'm prepared to accept that you... condoned this," he said, the words sour in his mouth. "Perhaps you even took part in this. Who else was involved?"

Itachi remained silent.

"I said, who- no, fuck that. Why?" He looked up at Itachi in silent, uncomprehending appeal. "How could you? Do you understand what you've done?"

"I have done what was necessary."

"Who decided it was necessary? Were you ordered to do this?"

Itachi's eyes said yes. Not obviously, not blatantly, but Harry was no slouch as a Legilimens, even without a wand.

"Was it someone from Konoha?"

Itachi looked away, which mean Harry couldn't read him but was a confession in itself. Seized by a sudden, horrible premonition, Harry whispered, "Was it the Hokage?"

There was no reply. Harry couldn't breathe, but at last Itachi looked back at him. "No," he said softly. "Not directly." And it was true. Harry's heart started beating again, and with it came the guilt that he had doubted Dumbledore, but he pushed it away.

"Who, then," he said, leaning more of his weight on his hands. He was almost at his limit. He couldn't even get any threat into his voice, and when Itachi didn't reply, he gave up on getting answers.

Instead he said, "You know, you've done something unforgivable," and his voice was low and rough with emotion. The words made no impact on Itachi's inscrutable face. Harry looked at him, ran his eyes over that young, pale skin - Itachi probably didn't even need to shave. Prompted by that thought, Harry said softly, "You're resolved. You think you're a man, made older than your years by pain and experience. You think you've made the only choice available to you, and chosen freely to bear the sin of killing your own parents."

There was no reaction of Itachi's face, but Harry saw all the confirmation he needed in Itachi's eyes. Harry breathed out slowly. "You're wrong," he said, the weight of experience making the words heavy. "No matter how resolved you are now, you will regret this day for the rest of your life. The pain of regret... you won't be able to escape it. You won't be able to turn back from your path." He paused, tasting the words, letting them fall with all the weight of a curse. "You've done something that can never be undone."

Like stones into still water, the words were swallowed by the silence. There was still no sound of discovery, or pursuit. Itachi was as pale as a ghost, though Harry suspected that was from blood loss rather than emotional disturbance.

Eventually, Itachi said, "My duty is not done yet."

Harry smiled cynically. "You'll forgive me if I'm not inclined to let you kill me."

Itachi shook his head slightly, then closed his eyes as if at sudden pain. "No," he said softly. "My... associate is still in Konoha. He won't leave without me."

"Good," Harry said. "We'll catch him too."

"No," Itachi said insistently. "You mustn't. He will destroy you."

Harry tilted his head. "He'll destroy all of Konoha?"

"Yes," Itachi said. The lines in his face were more deeply engraved than ever. He looked drawn and in pain. "With pleasure."

"Konoha is not that weak-"

"This man is that strong," Itachi said, and at the very least Harry believed that Itachi believed it.

"His name?" Harry asked softly, but Itachi only shook his head. Harry pressed, "If he is a threat to Konoha, then Konoha should know."

"They won't believe you," Itachi said faintly.

"At least they'll be warned."

Itachi swallowed, and let his head fall back against the wall. He'd lost a lot of blood. Harry looked him over with a professional's eye, and judged that he needed medical attention fast if he was going to survive. He didn't move, though. Finally, Itachi whispered, eyes closed, "Uchiha Madara."

The name meant nothing to Harry, and with Itachi's eyes closed he had no way of knowing whether it was the truth, but he tucked it away in his mind anyway. "Where will you go, if I release you?" he asked.

"I will go with him," Itachi said. "I will watch him. I will serve Konoha as best I can."

There was still no sound outside, and Harry cursed Konoha's guards for fools and incompetents. He was starting to see double. The constant drain of maintaining the chakra bonds that held Itachi to the wall had reduced Harry's strength below nothing. He had less than a minute before he passed out from chakra exhaustion, and when he did the bonds would disappear as well. Acceding to the inevitable, he released the bonds.

Itachi's arms fell to his sides, but he made no attempt to stop the blood still seeping from his wrists and his ankles. He stood and looked at Harry, and Harry told him conversationally, "If I ever see you again, I'll kill you. No - if you ever set foot within a hundred miles of Konoha again, I'll kill you. Do you get it? From the minute you step outside this room, you are no brother of mine."

Itachi didn't acknowledge the threat. He looked away and began to limp towards the door, straight past Harry without so much as a glance down at him, holding his broken body together with chakra. Harry didn't watch him go.

The limping footsteps paused at the door behind him, though, and Harry tensed. No attack came, and he looked back over his shoulder.

Itachi was silhouetted in the doorway by the faint moonlight outside - night had fallen. He was looking back at Harry, and he looked like a stranger for the first time tonight. He looked nothing like the brother Harry had grown up with. "Sasuke," he said, and all Harry could read in that voice was pain and exhaustion. "I never intended to kill you."

And then he stepped out of the room. Harry watched him across the porch, gingerly down the steps, and along the path until he disappeared into the shadows. Then he let out his breath explosively and fell back, so he was lying flat, staring at the ceiling. It was an interesting sensation. He was right on the verge of fainting from exhaustion, but with no further drain on his chakra, he seemed to be maintaining consciousness somehow.

"As if you could," he told the absent Itachi. There was thankfully no reply. Harry watched the pale moonlight cast on the ceiling by the open door, and at some point, without realising it, he passed out.

cloudednine — Thu, 18 Jun 2009 14:02:18 GMT

Astoundingly, in the last week I've finished chapters of Rest for the Weary, Second Chances, the epic Naruto timetravel thing I'm calling Human Endeavour and one of my original projects. It's like the amount I write increases exponentially - I write when I'm sick, and I write when I'm supposed to be studying, so when I'm sick and supposed to be studying I get S x S = lots?

Or alternatively, I've spent the last six days in bed and our internet was gone for two of them (WOE) and I'm going stir crazy over here adslfkj; STIR CRAZY.

Naruto, fic

cloudednine — Fri, 12 Jun 2009 13:28:53 GMT

I know I'm flailing about Naruto a lot at the moment, but I'm just so happy with it. I was very meh about the whole Pein arc, and this new arc is suddenly so unreservedly awesome that it's like falling in love all over again. Naruto 451 = love. Now, if only Bleach would do the same..

Anyway, this fic is unrelated, except by fandom. Untitled feminist genderswitch, ahoy!

Fandom: Naruto
Characters: Haruno Sakuma (Sakura); Yamanaka Iori (Ino)
A/N: Because I am on a feminist kick at the moment, and it occurred to me that series wide genderswitch never really addresses the social implications. In other words, if being a ninja was a female-dominated profession, would it also be a low-status profession?

Haruno Sakuma, age 8
"Hey, Dad," Sakuma said, wriggling on his chair and looking over the dining table at his father. The table was still a little high for him to eat comfortably, but he'd only just grown out of the special cushion he used to use, so he didn't want to complain. Instead he folded his arms on the table and rested his chin on them.

"Yes, son?" Haruno Tousei replied, having watched this manouvering with amusement. "You comfy there?"

"Yeah," Sakuma said, and turned his head so the entire entire side rested on his arms. It made his Dad look weird, and he smiled. "Guess what?"

"What?"

"No, you've gotta guess."

His father made a show of deep thought, tapping his lips with a finger. Tousei was a stocky man, whose round, smooth face and easy kindness belied thinning hair and a sharp mind. Sometimes other kids teased Sakuma about having an old man for a father, especially ninja kids, but Sakuma ignored them. Half of them didn't even have dads.

"Let me see," Tousei said. "You're hungry?"

Sakuma rolled his eyes. "No," he sighed, then had to correct himself. "Well, yeah, but guess again?"

"I don't know. I think I may need some hints."

Sakuma straightened up, leaning forward over the table. "I'm gonna be a ninja!"

Tousei laughed. Sakuma loved his dad's laugh - it was light and merry, and it made Sakuma want to laugh as well. "A ninja? Why would you want to be a ninja?"

"Ninjas are cool! Iori's gonna be a ninja," Sakuma told him.

Tousei was shaking his head, but still smiling. "Wouldn't you rather be a policeman, or a samurai?"

"No," Sakuma said, smile fading. He could tell when his father wasn't taking him seriously, and he hated it. "I want to be a ninja. I want to go to the Academy next year."

Tousei's smile faded slightly as well. "Sakuma..." but he was interrupted by his wife, making her triumphant entrance with dinner.

"Here we go!" she announced as she placed the dishes in the centre of the table. "Sorry about the wait. The meat wasn't quite ready. Isn't Mama silly?" she asked Sakuma, ruffling his hair.

"Mum," he complained. "Don't do that."

Etsumi laughed, and took her seat at the table. "All right! Itadakimasu."

"Itadakimasu," father and son murmured, and Etsumi reached out to begin serving.

"How much do you want, sweetheart?" she asked Sakuma.

"Um, two slices," he said. "But no broccoli."

"Ooh, you must have worked up an appetite today," Etsumi said as she loaded two slices of meat and a large helping of vegetables, including broccoli, onto Sakuma's plate. "What were you up to?"

Sakuma pulled a face at the vegetables, but said, "I got full marks on my history test."

"Well done, sweetheart! You studied so hard for that."

"Good job," Tousei echoed, leaning over and clapping Sakuma on the shoulder. "You're taking after your old man, eh?"

"As if you ever got full marks at school, you reprobrate," Etsumi said tartly. "Sakuma is definitely as hard-working as his mother."

Sakuma took a big bite of carrot, flushed with pleasure. When he'd chewed and swallowed, he said, "And, I was playing with Iori and the other kids after school, and I want to be a ninja."

"A ninja!" Etsumi said. "My goodness. Does Iori want to be a ninja?"

"Yeah, and he got given practice kunai for his birthday. Can I go to the Academy next year?"

Etsumi's smile had slipped at the kunai, and now she determinedly took a mouthful of potato. While she was chewing, Tousei said, "Sakuma, I think you already know this, but you're a very bright boy. You could do anything - you could get work in the capital. You could go to university."

"But I want to be a ninja!" Sakuma interrupted.

"Sweetheart," Etsumi said gently, "being a ninja is a very worthwhile career. You know Tamae-san from down the road is a ninja, and she works so hard. But you're only eight, and who knows what sort of things you'll enjoy by the time you're eighteen. You could be an engineer, or a doctor! Wouldn't you like to wear a white coat and stethoscope?" she teased. "Think how proud I would be to be able to say, 'my son, the doctor'."

Sakuma scowled down at his plate. "Natsuki-chan goes to the Academy, and her parents are proud," he muttered.

"Of course they're proud!" Etsumi said instantly, "And I hear she's doing very well, too. But Natsuki-chan was never the top of her class, sweetheart, and she's a girl."

"Iori's not a girl."

Sakuma watched as his mum and dad exchanged glances over his head. It was Tousei who said, "Iori seems like a nice boy, but he comes from a ninja clan. He's just following in the family footsteps."

Sakuma bit down on a piece of broccoli absently, processing this new piece of information. "Do I have to be a salary man?"

His parents both chuckled. "Of course not, kiddo," Tousei said. "You can be anything you want to be."

"Like a ninja?"

They stopped smiling. "Oh, Sakuma," his mother sighed. "If you want to be a ninja when you're older, we won't be able to stop you, but you're much too young to be making decisions now."

"Why," Sakuma said, having suddenly thought of a really good idea, "can't I go to the Academy now and then decide later? I might decide I want to go to university after all."

He looked up to see if his parents were buying it, but they were exchanging glances again. This time his father spoke, kindly but firmly, "Sakuma, the curriculum at the Academy is very different to normal schools. It's a vocational school, you see. Even if you left the Academy without becoming a ninja, you'd still have to repeat some years before you could go to high school."

"I don't want to go to high school! I want to be a ninja," Sakuma cried.

"Sakuma," Tousei snapped. "Eat your dinner, and don't speak to me in that tone. You're not going to the Academy, and I'll have no more talk of it."

"Why?" Sakuma wailed. He could feel tears welling in his eyes, and he rubbed at them angrily. He wasn't a cry baby anymore. "Why can't I go to the Academy? I want to stay with Iori!"

"Oh, sweetheart," Etsumi breathed, and came round the table. Sakuma turned away from her hug, but didn't try to fight loose. "You know we love you, and only want the best for you. If your heart is set on being an ninja..."

"Mother," Tousei said warningly, but Etsumi ignored him.

"If your heart is really set on being a ninja, we'll support you, okay? You're just too young to make any decisions now. There are so many other jobs around for a brilliant young man like you."

"No," Sakuma said fiercely, but turned towards his mother and clung to her, burying his head against her neck. "I want to be a ninja. I won't forget."

"Of course not," Etsumi said soothingly. "Of course not."

Naruto 450

cloudednine — Wed, 10 Jun 2009 12:59:24 GMT

Without spoilers: so cool. so cool. so cool.

With (major) spoilers:

I mean, okay, look, I'm under no illusions of the literary merit of this manga. Nagato's whole last minute conversion/raising the dead thing was a deus ex machina on a grand scale, and you know what? I didn't even care. I hate it when characters die unnecessarily, ie. Shizune, and Kakashi is still my favourite character so I'm glad he's not dead.

But this latest chapter... asdf;lkjg you would not believe how many of my buttons it hit.

1) Kakashi comes to get Naruto, echoing the end of the Sasuke retrieval arc; there's student-teacher interaction; also, as mentioned above, Kakashi. Yes please thank you.

2) Naruto being acknowledged. That two page spread with everyone cheering him is fan service in the most literal sense of the word. I mean, the desire to see people admit they were wrong about the main character is one of the most basic hooks in writing, and I am such a sucker for it. Man, I'm so happy I'm practically bouncing with glee.

3) Plot twist AHHHHH so cool so cool so cool. If you had asked me what would make a really wicked future AU, I would have said 'Danzou becomes the sixth Hokage' - alternate universe being the operative word there. I never, never thought it would happen in canon. And so now I have this faint but possible hope that Danzou will attack Naruto and it will end up being Naruto+Sakura+Sasuke vs Danzou+Root instead of Naruto vs Sasuke, which I was expecting but not wildly excited about. Haha, how massively, improbably, ridiculously cool would that be? There could be politics! Loyalty! Betrayal! I love this plot twist so so much.

3.1) The representatives of Konoha when appointing a new Hokage: Koharu, Homura, Danzou, unnamed ANBU captain and... Nara Shikaku? That's interesting.

cloudednine — Sun, 31 May 2009 03:10:07 GMT

Anyway, I'm mostly posting this here to prove that I am, in fact, still alive. Hi.

Title: Nice Kitty
Fandom: Naruto
Characters: Raidou, Genma, Naruto
Notes: written for imepic

Uzumaki was staring unabashedly. "Hey, whoa, that's some scar. Where'd you get that?" he asked, and in Raidou's ideal world, lack of common courtesy would be grounds for demotion. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the senbon in Genma's mouth flick up, then down.

"D'you ever do a chase the cat mission when you were a genin?" Genma asked.

Uzumaki's attention swung away from Raidou, towards Genma. "Huh? Uh, yeah, only about a thousand."

Genma nodded. "Well, just keep in mind how lucky you were."

Uzumaki looked at Raidou, then at Genma, then at Raidou again. "What? I don't get it."

Genma's senbon flicked again. He pointed casually. "Poor bastard got clawed. The medics said he was lucky to keep his nose."

Uzumaki's eyes went wide. "No waaay. Are you joking? Is he joking?"

When Uzumaki stared at Raidou, in appeal this time instead of curiosity, Raidou solemnly shook his head. Uzumaki spun away and started running his hands over his face as if amazed it was still there. Raidou could hear him muttering, "I can't believe they made us do such a dangerous mission, huh, I bet it was Kakashi-sensei's idea, probably hoping we'd all have to wear a mask like him-"

Raidou looked at Uzumaki's hunched back, then over at Genma, whose senbon was flickering steadily. Genma caught his eye, and the look they exchanged was eloquent.

cloudednine — Thu, 30 Apr 2009 11:59:32 GMT

"In terms of adultery, in terms of divorce, in terms of grandchildren, yes we are in big trouble as a society because of the sexual revolution. It came out of Virginia Woolf and that crowd (in England in the early 20th century). It's a century-long movement that has happened. In my view, it's a disaster. It has ruined lives. It is ruining our society." - Phillip Jensen, Anglican Dean of Sydney

I- I don't know what to say. Viriginia Woolf?

cloudednine — Sun, 22 Mar 2009 10:47:47 GMT

In my serious case of post-partyitis (hey, I danced from half-seven last night until 2am this morning straight, then had to be back cleaning the hall by nine, if anyone has ever deserved a day of post-partyitis it's me) (also, thank god I don't drink, that would really have made today unpleasant), I've spent the afternoon in bed reading fanfiction for shows I know nothing about.

Not that that makes any difference. This? I actually cackled out loud. Pretty much the entire time, in fact, and we're talking 45 thousand words. This story made me so, so happy.

Drastically Redefining Protocol by rageprufrock

Fandom is Merlin, pairing Arthur/Merlin, which tells me exactly zero but didn't impair my enjoyment one bit. Romance! Bitchiness! Prince falls in love with (male) commoner! Gay marriage! Serious discussion of the political ramifications of previously mentioned gay marriage! Pitch perfect imitations of everything from AP new articles to tabloid articles to a fantastic epilogue in the form of a Vanity Fair article, and oh my god, the story is worth reading just for the multimedia. I writhed in jealousy at the fake NY Times website article - how do people do that? I want to be able to do that. And don't get me started on the photoshop -

cloudednine — Sun, 15 Mar 2009 11:59:37 GMT

Haha, this is awesome. I love this song - the Scared Weird Little Guys are hilarious.

Deadly Animals (Come to Australia)

cloudednine — Fri, 13 Mar 2009 05:06:27 GMT

Mmm, making moussaka for dinner, and it smells so good.

Also, apparently a whole clove is different from a whole clove of garlic. Who knew? Well, Mum, obviously, as she was the one who stopped me from putting 8 whole cloves of garlic into the mince, but it was a perfectly reasonable mistake to make! English is such a confusing language.

cloudednine — Thu, 19 Feb 2009 12:33:42 GMT

This makes me want to learn Classical Chinese. A complement to my Latin, perhaps? Actually, pretty much every post in linguaphiles makes me want to learn a new language.

And on the subject of cool things:

FIREWORK BATTLE!

cloudednine — Wed, 11 Feb 2009 06:04:11 GMT

Okay, this I think should be required reading for all Australians. Look, the bushfires are a disaster on an epic scale, but blaming the firefighters is like blaming the police for not stopping your house from being robbed, and I've seen a lot of sniffing on the news the past few days.

Country firefighters are not professionals. They are builders and teachers and businesspeople and retirees and farmers who give up their time to do a dangerous, exhausting and often unpleasant job. They cut up trees on the roads. They chase livestock. They answer false alarms at the local nursing home in the middle of dinner. They get up for car crashes at 3:30am on a Sunday morning, and they make sure the car doesn't catch on fire with drunken idiots still inside. And yes, they go fight fires, leaving their own homes undefended, and come home hoarse and tired and black with smoke.

Every week, they show up to training, in the heat, in the rain, when anyone sensible is at home watching Monday night TV. They run barbeques and raffles and cater for events, always trying to raise enough to keep the budget in the black. And they're not paid a cent.

Firefighters are volunteers, and it really pisses me off when I hear people implying that they haven't done enough. Yeah, it's good to look for ways to improve, ways to do things better, but blaming firefighters because the fires burnt houses and killed people? That's just not on.

Edited to say, this both proves my point and is cute as all hell.