Who's My Shinobi Soulmate?
Authors Note, and Foreword/Forewarning:
It has been a while since I've actually written a WMSS (Who's My Shinobi Soulmate) fanfiction, three years actually. If you'd like, you can view my earlier works in the search engine, or under my name.
Most of the humor in here is a bit on the PG-13 side, and it may be somewhat offensive to younger folk, I suppose. But I try to keep it civilized, and I don't think it will be a problem.
I do not own any characters from Naruto, nor do I plan on making any money from this fanfiction.
Anyways, you may feel free to comment, or flame if you like. Any suggestions as to parts of the show you'd like to see done will be my pleasure to read, reject, reconsider, rework, reconstitute, and eventually, reincorporate into my future works.
Anyways, on with the show.
Kakashi: “Script format. Oh, yeah. It takes a real genius to prepare something this way. I mean, this has to be the biggest failure in any attempt at writing I’ve seen yet!”
Producer: “Really...? Oh, and I suppose that KakaIru means nothing to you?”
Kakashi: “Oh, by the Gods, don’t go there. If there’s one thing I hate worse than the Olympic “Sport” of Curling, it’s being paired in a KakaIru fanfic.”
Iruka: “Hey, arse. At least you get the top-billing.”
Kakashi: “That’s not the only thing I seem to be getting the top of.”
Producer: “Oh ho!”
Kakashi: “Hey! It’s NOT funny. Have you read some of these?!”
Producer: “No, but it sounds like you are all to familiar with them, aren’t you?”
Kakashi: “Listen, I’m going to level with you here. I know you that you know I’ve read them, just as much as you know that I know that you’ve read them. It’s something that’s happened to all of us. Now, the only way for us to get over it, is to accept that what has been done, in fact, has been done.”
Producer: “All right. I suppose you’ve got a point there, Kakashi. But I’ve come up with a counter-argument.”
Kakashi: “And that is?”
Producer: “...men who love yaoi say; what.”
Kakashi & Iruka: “What?”
Kakashi: “ENOUGH! No more dirty references to dark deeds, and above all, no more innuendos.”
Iruka: “Hee hee, inn-ur-endo.”
Kakashi: “WHAT DID I JUST FRIGGEN’ SAY?”
Iruka: “Al–...alright! *gack* I’m done, I’m– *hack, wheeze*, I’m through with the– *gack*...low-brow humor.
Producer: “I on the other hand, and far from done...this is just way too good to let it die here.
Both: “Please let it die, please let it die.”
Producer: “Nope. I have a better idea.”
Two Weeks Later...
Returning from his second daily helping of Ichiraku, Naruto heads back to his house, his head, heart, and stomach heavy with grief, rejection, and five bowls of miso ramen, respectively. Upon passing a nearby pawn shop, a flickering screen catches his attention.
TV Announcer: “Have you and a loved one ever had an argument about how your unrequited love is both a form of entertainment and annoyance to her?”
Naruto: “Umm....you better believe it, pal.”
TV Announcer: “Have you and a friend ever had a dispute so severe, it ended up in a full-out brawl leading to his defection from your village to gain enough power to defeat his murderous brother?”
Naruto: “Wow, this guy is unbelievable...believe it.”
TV Announcer: “Do you like ramen?”
Naruto: “ Yes, yes, and yes! This has to be some joke!”
TV Announcer: “If you’ve answered; “yes, yes, and yes”, then followed up with a “this has to be some joke”-comment, then either we are watching and listening to your every move...”
TV Announcer: “...Or you’d be the perfect candidate on our show; Who’s My Shinobi Soulmate.”
Naruto: “What? Wait a minute, I’ve seen this before. It’s got to be some kind of rerun...”
*Begins to leave.*
TV Announcer: “Hold your horses, coybow.”
TV Announcer: “Don’t tell me how to live my life, Mom.”
*Awkward Silence. Announcer coughs and regains composure.*
TV Announcer: “This show has it all! The unmatched realism of dating unscripted on television...”
Naruto: “Seen it...”
TV Announcer: “The insanity of resolving personal issues in front of a crowd of millions.”
Naruto: “Done it...”
TV Announcer: “The dry British-wit of a Monty Python skit...”
Naruto: “If you’ve got a point, make it.”
TV Announcer: “Ach...listen, kid.”
Naruto: “...it’s Naruto.”
TV Announcer: “I don’t care, but you better sit down and shut it, ‘else I get angry. And trust me, you won’t like me when I’m angry.”
*Forceful gulp, Naruto complies.*
TV Announcer: “Listen, here is what you are going to do. You’re going to walk down to the training fields like the good little twerp you are...”
TV Announcer: “Got it!?”
TV Announcer: “ANSWER ME!!”
Naruto: “But you said to–”
TV Announcer: “You ever seen the bottom of a lake, kid?”
Naruto: “Yeah, I was twelve, and there was this fight in this Valley, and...”
*Announcer lights a cigarette, takes a long drag of it, and sighs.*
TV Announcer: “Enough of what you’re going to do...”
The Announcer rises out of his seat, his tattered Power Ranger boxers coming into plain view. He angrily looses his tie, and throws it on the desk. He pulls and slams a drawer, revealing his bottle of scotch.
TV Announcer: “Here’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to finish what’s left of my fifth. That’s about...erm, uh...five or six shots. That’s about enough to make the voices...those blessed voices in my head...quiet down.”
*Takes a shot. Naruto sweatdrops.*
TV Announcer: “Hah! You know, it’s been a good fourteen-months since I’ve last violated my parole. What was it? Eighty-six, ‘seven? Aww, who knows, who cares.
*Another drag from his cigarette, ashing it onto the rich, mahogany desk.*
TV Announcer: “Anyway, as I was saying...once I’ve emptied this bottle, and for the next hour and a half that those voices aren’t telling me what I shouldn’t do, I’m going to find you...”
TV Announcer: “No...nuh-uh. Let me FINISH!”
*Announcer slams desk. Naruto sweatdrops, now drenched from perspiration.*
TV Announcer: “I’m going to find you, I will, you see, it’s only a matter of time, my boy. And when I do, I’m going to f—”
The shop keep unplugs the television set, removing the pricetag, and setting the “SOLD” plaque in the window sill. The keep strains as he hands the set to the buyer, and the buyer in turn hands the keep a considerable sum of money. Naruto, still stricken with fear, watches every movement with extreme care. The customer exists.
Sasuke: “Hey, dobe, the one in the television told me to give you these.”
*Hands him a sealed envelope, and Naruto carefully opens it.*
Naruto: “Um..tickets. Tickets to what?”
Sasuke: “The show, I’ve received my own set of tickets, as have most of the Shinobi in this village. I suppose that I’ll see you there, dobe.”
Naruto: “Um...okay, I guess. Yeah...I’ll see you there!”
Naruto: “Why’d you buy that television?”
Sasuke: “Heh, I don’t know. I guess I just like it, I don’t know.
Muffled voices, screams, and loud banging noises can be heard from inside the television.