Repression

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The girl opened her eyes, faint rays of sunshine disturbing her sleep. With a groan, she rolled over on her rough hay mattress, pushing herself up with chubby hands. A roughspun blanket fell from her shoulders and pooled around her waist as she rubbed at her eyes.

"Moh, Yachiru, I thought I told you to get up already."

A young woman stood on the other side of the room, a basket balanced on her hip. Her wavy brown hair was pulled back away from her face and covered by a tattered bandana. The blue of her kimono complemented her peachy pale skin, setting off her black, black eyes beautifully.

"Mama," the girl said with a poorly stifled yawn. "I'm tired."

The woman laughed gently, the action revealing a charming gap between her two front teeth. "I warned you not to stay up so late. This is your punishment. Now, get up! You don't want to miss your papa, do you?"

Yachiru perked up, exhaustion forgotten, and flung herself from the bed. She pulled her overlong sleep clothes over her head and began rummaging through another basket next to the creaky bed. Her mother chuckled and stepped out through the only door, letting light into the one roomed building. The girl struggled in her haste to put on a green shirt and semi clean pants, tripping over herself several times. She ran a hand through the mop of curls on her head, finger catching futilely on knots as she tried to make herself presentable without a mirror. Giving up with a sigh, she trudged out of the hut and into the sunlight, squinting as her eyes adjusted. There, across the way, stood her mother. She was looking up at a shadowed figure, expression forlornly resigned.

She always looked like that when saying goodbye to papa.

The grass tickled the bottoms of Yachiru's bare feet as she crossed the clearing, her pace slowing as she grew nearer to her parents. Her father wore black, as always, his body concealed by an all encompassing cloak. The face Yachiru had never seen was hidden beneath a veiled hat, the thick, gauzy fabric obscuring his features perfectly.

Sometimes, in Yachiru's most private nightmares, her father took off the hat and had no face at all underneath.

"Ah, there she is," his voice was deep and soothing, bringing up memories of bedtime stories and half botched lullabies. "My little princess."

Yachiru reached up and tugged at her father's sleeve. "Papa, do you have to go? Can't you stay a little longer?"

He chuckled, placing his gloved left hand on her head and undoing all the work she'd done to tame her curls. "Sorry, princess, I have to go. I'll bring you back a present."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

"Oh?" Her mother sidled up to her husband, a theatrical pout on her lips. "And what about me? Don't I get a present?"

"Of course," her father said with an audible smile. "Whatever you want, Rin."

🐶🐶🐶

Hanako stared up at the dark ceiling, mind carefully blank.

Nope. Nuhuh. Not thinking about it. That is a problem for another day. Future Hanako can deal with it. Present Hanako is going to the kitchen!

Dragging herself out of bed, not unlike the Yachiru in her dreams, she slowly made her way through the silent tower. Her team had made it to the tower with a day to spare, so all that was left to do was wait. There were other teams there, too, of course—Gaara's was one, the trio from Kumo was another—and they were all stuck in the tower together until the third day was done. Luckily, it seemed like everyone—sans Gaara, of course—was asleep, so she'd probably have the kitchen to herself. Dawn wasn't for another couple of hours, and she needed some time to collect her thoughts before she faced anyone.

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