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On The Cusp	By : Okami-Rayne Category: Naruto > Yaoi - Male/Male > Shikamaru/Neji Views: 2208 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: NARUTO and its respective characters were created and are owned by Masashi Kishimoto. No copyright infringement intended. I make no money from this story.

Chapter List
- 13
- 14
- 15
ON THE CUSP

by Okami Rayne

Chapter Fourteen

The whisper of delicate feet and the rustle of women's yukatas fell like brushstrokes around the edges of a deep and abiding silence. One of HOTARU's most expensive luxuries. Manufactured peace. Customers paid a pretty price for it and the ryokan staff preserved it with optimum care and attention to detail. They were women trained in the art of meandering their way so eloquently that all they disturbed was the faint clouds of incense smoke cleansing the corridors.

They floated across the polished wooden floors on dainty feet, seen but barely heard.

How like a Hyūga household…

Neji's lip twitched at the thought.

He passed through a soft beam of light, morning gold streaming in through the shoji panels to bathe the corridors of the ryokan in a soft patina glow.

Somehow, it seemed warmer than a Hyūga household.

Neji inclined his head to a passing girl. The young woman blushed, cupped a steaming mug of coffee firmer in her hands and bowed low, her feet moving in quick and efficient little steps.

The aroma of coffee wafted behind her.

Neji's mind strayed with the scent, wrapping its thoughts around Shikamaru.

Let go…

Neji let out a long breath, shaking his head. He passed through a veil of incense and pulled deep on the thick scent of smoky rose, letting it swirl through his senses.

He could still smell the coffee.

Damn this.

Figuring that a shift in movement would elicit a shift of mind, he changed direction and passed along one of the adjacent hallways. It led away from the luxury suites, out through a bamboo garden, beneath a tree-covered walkway and past a large conference room that doubled as a venue for social conventions and catering.

Neji slowed his pace, picking up on footfalls.

The doors to the room swung open behind a server carrying a stack of white lacquered plates. The puff of air from the closing doors struck Neji with the rich smells of the morning buffet.

His stomach threatened a growl.

Later. Locate the lobby.

He made to continue down the hallway but paused mid-stride, instincts coming alive in a heartbeat.

Something's wrong...

A burst of sound beyond the doors had Neji hopping back seconds before the door flew open again. Avoiding the collision didn't lessen the impact of watching Kiba crash through the doors, smash into the fusuma wall and drop in a dazed and deadweight heap on the ground.

Neji stood dumbfounded.

What on earth?

He didn't get the chance to step forward.

The doors swung open again.

Naruto and Sakura came stumbling out in a tangle of limbs, grappling for possession of something black, shiny and square-shaped that passed back and forth between Naruto's hands like a hot potato.

Sakura screeched in his ear. "NARUTO!"

Neji winced at the volume.

He watched them crash into the fusuma wall beside Kiba with Naruto taking most of the impact. To Neji's amazement, the Uzumaki laughed. Refusing to surrender whatever Sakura was after, the Jinchūriki bent over to clutch the mystery object to his stomach. The pink-haired kunoichi all but climbed up his back in an attempt to reach around and snatch it back.

"Give me that camera!" she yelled.

Kiba groaned on the floor. "I can't feel my face…"

Naruto just laughed harder. "You should see it."

Kiba glared up through a swollen eye, ringed in purple and blackening fast. "Laugh it up, lovebird. I'm gonna slam-dunk your face and kick your ass up to meet it…"

Naruto grinned. "Bring it! You already look like the butt-end of ugly."

Neji shook his head and glanced over his shoulder. Backpedalling risked crossing paths with Shikamaru, especially if the Nara and his teammates were going to start gravitating towards food. Sighing, he glanced back at the scene, eyes widening when Sakura raised her fist.

He didn't have time to step in.

She slammed her knuckles into Naruto's thigh so hard the limb went dead. The Uzumaki yelled a high note worthy of a choirboy and his knee buckled. But rather than give up, he clutched the item tighter against his stomach, laughing.

Neji didn't see what was so amusing.

Further down the hallway, a cluster of staff looked on in shock, hands fluttering to mouths and throats.

Wonderful…

Neji frowned, taking a second to analyse the situation. While Kiba and Naruto were repeat offenders in the delinquent department – no matter the venue – for Sakura to hop onto the bandwagon in such a dignified environment suggested she'd been victimized.

With a camera?

Suddenly, Neji didn't want to know – or get involved. He should have walked on by without a backward glance. And if his militant sense of control hadn't demanded he bring order to the chaos, he'd have stepped over Kiba, moved past the scrabbling teammates and left them to their lunacy. God, just witnessing the drama made him feel guilty by association.

Sakura swung again and Naruto yelped like a kicked dog.

The ryokan staff let out a collective gasp.

Neji sighed. He worked to cover up his own embarrassment at the scene by closing off his expression and letting his voice drop to the cold tone of censure.

"What are you doing?" he demanded.

Naruto squinted up through the sunny flop of his hair, beaming. "Neji!"

Not sure how to respond to the excitement in Naruto's tone and unable to return it, Neji transferred his cool gaze onto Kiba. "Get up, Inuzuka. This is a ryokan not a roughhouse."

"Thought I smelled a sour mood headin' this way," Kiba chuckled, not bothering to look up. "This nose upgrade is gonna take some getting used to."

"Get up."

"Wanna give a guy a hand?" The dog-nin rolled his head back to glance upside-down at Neji. "Or you could just keep standin' there while I lose feeling on the floor."

Neji made no move to assist him.

Kiba bristled at the stoic glare. "What? Would that be bowing too low for His Hyūga Highness?"

Neji's eyes glinted like polished steel and his lips tilted upward at one corner in a cruel smirk. "It's certainly a long way down to reach your level."

"Or maybe bending down might break the stick shoved up your ass?"

"For someone who's lost feeling in their face, you're doing a remarkable job with your mouth, Inuzuka."

Kiba's sneer curled just shy of a snarl. "Bite me, Hyūga."

"Hey guys don't be like that," Naruto frowned, tucking his shoulder to his jaw to keep Sakura from getting him in a chokehold. "Sakura-chan!"

"ARGH!" Sakura flicked her hair back with a growl, slender arms and legs crabbed around Naruto in a piggyback vice. "Give me that camera!" she hissed.

"No way!" Naruto argued, making a simultaneous effort to breathe, talk and not get wrestled to the ground by the fuming kunoichi. "It's not your camera. It's Kiba's!"

"Don't lie." Kiba made a face too innocent to be believed. "It's Shino's."

"I don't care who it belongs to!" Sakura roared. "What's on it belongs to ME!"

"Not just you," Kiba cut in from the floor. He raised his hands and made a heart shape with fingers and thumbs, framing Sakura's face as he pretended to angle for a shot. "You and Hibari can frame it for the kids."

Neji arched a mental eyebrow.

Sakura flushed to the roots of her hair, aqua-tinged eyes rounding in horror.

"Hibari? Wait. WHAT?" Naruto jerked his head up, exposing his neck for Sakura's chokehold.

She locked his throat into the crook of her elbow, hissing in his ear. "Give me that camera RIGHT now!"

"What's Kiba mean about Hibari?" Naruto choked out.

Neji closed his eyes and rubbed at the bridge of his nose.

Congratulations, Tsubasa…you came here for peace and you've just started a war…

Further along the hallway, the cluster of startled staff parted their whispering ranks into two single lines along the corridor, making way for a man the size of a summoned behemoth.

Kiba let out a warning whistle but didn't budge from the floor. "Head's up. Here comes the brick shithouse."

Neji glanced up, about to snap out a heated reply until he followed Kiba's gaze.

The scowl dropped from his face and his eyes widened.

The ryokan's security man was built like an ox on steroids. And he looked like one. His huge bald head rounded down into two chins, one decorated with a thin plait of golden beard. A thick ruby winked blood-like in one earlobe and a circular barbell glinted from the pierced septum of his nose. His flat face looked like it had met with the business end of a frying-pan – which might have been down to headbutts or horrible genes – and sat atop a bull neck strung with bulging tendons and veins that pulsed like cables.

"Whoa. He looks wired," Kiba observed. "Have fun with that one, Neji."

"Get up."

"I ain't moving my ass just to get it handed to me."

Neji shot him a withering look. "Move."

Kiba swept his arm out in invitation. "After you, Highness."

Neji let out a long breath and held up a hand to the approaching guard to assure him that despite Naruto turning black and blue under Sakura's fists, everything was under control. But the ox-man's tawny brows drew together like thunderbolts above his deep-set and squinting eyes. Eyes that swept their stormy gaze over the scene before zeroing in on the Hyūga.

Neji stiffened when the man kept advancing.

Kiba gave a growly chuckle. "Oh yeah, that really convinced him," the dog-nin noted from the ground, flashing sharp canines in a grin. "He's gonna eat you up and shit you out, Hyūga."

"Shut up, Inuzuka." Neji held the guard's gaze, calculating the likelihood of resolving things peacefully. The man was a shinobi. Neji could tell from the way he balanced his bulk, in perfect control of some serious weight that he undoubtedly knew how to throw around.

Kiba hummed a dirge in time with the man's heavy steps.

Neji shot him an exasperated look.

Clearly, the dog-nin had every intention of sitting this one out. As for Naruto and Sakura, they remained oblivious to the approaching goliath and continued to bicker and battle over possession of the camera and what was on it.

This left Neji fielding the massive, muscular cannonball.

Just his luck.

"Fate's a bitch that doesn't pull her punches..."

Hn. So it would seem, Nara.

The paragon of calm, Neji stepped around Kiba and made to come between the guard and the tussling teammates. No sooner had he taken a pace towards the approaching bull than a plume of smoke fired over the bald man's shoulder, stopping him short.

"Kids grabbing you by the horns, Oushi?" a relaxed baritone called, breaking blithely into the tension. "Or are you finding fun ways to work off the pounds?"

The huge man turned towards the speaker, squinting. Then his thunderous expression broke into a smile that saved his face from ugliness. "You know these punks?"

Punks?

Neji might have been offended if his attention hadn't redirected from the insult towards the Jōnin leaning casually against the wall, cigarette in hand. The Hyūga's eyes widened fractionally in surprise.

"Senpai..."

By now, Naruto and Sakura had stopped attacking each other long enough to realise they'd come under the threat of a greater authority. Feigning a friendly hug, Sakura held her piggyback position, arms wrapped like vines around Naruto's neck, smiling sweetly as she all but strangled him with her display of "affection".

Naruto's eyes bugged out and sweat beaded on his face though he flicked a thumb's up, managing a pained grin. "Heh…hey…sensei…"

Asuma's lip quirked, smoke streaming from his nose. "Yeah, I know them."

Oushi made a disgruntled sound and looked over at Neji, eyes narrowed. "How well you know 'em?"

"Well enough to know that that one will have you quadriplegic from 64 hits in less than 24 seconds."

Uncertain whether or not Asuma was joking, Oushi did a double take, giving Neji a head-to-toe assessment. He frowned, hesitated, then reached into the pocket of his huge haori jacket and pulled out a pair of glasses. He examined the lenses, fogged them with his breath and wiped them clean with the corner of his obi belt.

Neji stared without expression, not sure how to react.

He could practically feel Kiba holding in his laughter but resisted kicking the dog-nin while he was down.

Ignoring the incredulous stares, Oushi settled the horn-rimmed specs on the end of his nose, magnifying his small eyes into two massive spheres. Blinking, he looked at Neji again and jerked his head a fraction in shock.

"Ah…a Hyūga, huh? Swell." Oushi hawked a noisy cough, rattling phlegm as if ready to spit. "Back me up, Sarutobi?"

Asuma grinned around his cigarette, a flash of white in his tan face. "Nah."

"Old time's sake."

"It's a bygone age for you, buddy."

"Hey, I got some ninjutsu left in me," Oushi grumbled and plucked his glasses off, losing interest in a fight where the outcome rested on moving faster than a Hyūga's fists.

He stepped away from Neji.

"You used to be fun, Sarutobi."

"I joined the ball-and-chain ranks of responsibility," Asuma teased, smiling.

"Yeah so did I," Oushi grunted and held up his hand to indicate the gold wedding band suffocating his finger.

Neji watched them exchange a laugh before Oushi rolled his weight on down the corridors, puffing out his chest to impress the waif-like women who flowed around him like water, meandering silently about their business.

"Thank you, senpai," Neji said, glancing back at Asuma, more grateful for the fact that he could now drop this problem in the other Jōnin's lap and be on his way.

"No problem." Asuma took a deep pull on his cigarette, the amusement in his eyes sobering fast. "Seen Kotetsu or Izumo around?"

Neji managed not to look surprised and shook his head. "Not here."

"Right. Shikamaru?"

Neji almost hesitated. "Yes. I don't believe he's checked out yet."

Asuma looked away, exhaling a lungful of smoke downwards rather than up, his eyes following the drifting plume. Neji frowned, but didn't get the chance to pick apart the Sarutobi's expression; Asuma's introspective look lasted no more than a few seconds – there and gone with the smoke.

"He's a pretty elusive teacher…"

So it certainly seemed.

"Well, I guess I'll leave this in your capable hands," Asuma smirked, nodding towards the Chūnin trio who had picked up from where they'd left off.

Neji shot the older Jōnin a strained look, about to speak.

Asuma waved over his head, already turning to saunter back down the way he'd come, rumbling out a chuckle and a cloud of smoke. "Ball-and-chain, Neji."

Neji's eye twitched. He could feel the reins of his patience pulling in a tug-of-war game between the hand of control and the hand that wanted to reach out and hit something. Or someone.

Naruto let out a squawk. "SAKURA-CHAN!"

Neji turned sharply, drawing his arm out in a controlled slash. "That's enough."

"Oi, oi, Hyūga," Kiba piped up from the floor. "I wanna see who wins."

"Coward!" Naruto coughed out, flailing the camera at the dog-nin. "You're the one who took it!"

"No shit I took it." Kiba rocked to his feet, bumping into Neji's rigid back. He jerked his head over the Jōnin's shoulder and stabbed a finger towards his bruised eye, glaring at Naruto. "I just took it straight in the face."

Neji turned his head a fraction. "Unless you want another fist in your face, I suggest you get off me. Now."

Kiba sneered, leaning in to hook his head around Neji's shoulder until their gazes levelled, baring his teeth in a deliberate grin. "You're just a bucket of blazing sunshine aren't you, Hyūga?"

"Which would undoubtedly make you my rainy day."

"So what'cha gonna do about it?"

Their gazes fixed in a deadlock.

Tension bubbled up to the brink.

And Neji felt an old familiar violence singing through his veins.

Naruto flicked his hands up. "Hey guys?"

Kiba froze mid-growl, turning his head at the same time as Neji.

"WHAT?" They snarled in unison.

A click sounded.

The camera flash exploded in a bright burst, reflecting off Neji's hitai-ate to rebound the light directly into Naruto's eyeballs. All three males jerked their heads back.

Kiba yowled and cupped his eyes. "The FUCK!"

"Naruto, you idiot!" Sakura shouted, safe behind his yellow spikes. "That's dangerous for Inuzuka eyes!"

Naruto tucked the camera under his shirt, laughing. "But it shut them up!" He squinted and leaned in towards the stock-still Jōnin. "Plus, check out Neji's face!"

Neji couldn't even formulate a retort.

He wasn't even sure he was still looking in the right direction.

Naruto's face had vanished into a bright block of light - which meant he was likely to miss if he took a swing at the fool. A 'blinding stroke of luck' didn't apply here and he doubted he'd strike lucky and somehow hit Kiba instead.

"Whoa, Neji, you okay? You look totally spaced out."

Spaced out? Was Naruto even clued in?

I am going to kill you.

Frowning, Neji continued to blink owlishly, trying to banish the floating dots from his vision, his opal eyes rounded so wide it looked like he'd just taken a hallucinogen.

No, that would feel liberating and possibly like flying…

All he felt now was the severe urge to maim.

And Naruto was oblivious. "Kakashi-sensei's always goin' on about resolving conflict by using peaceful means and hey, this method works!"

I know another method that works…

Although 'peaceful means' didn't enter into it.

As Neji continued to blink at the box of colour hanging in mid-air, he considered applying the red mist of madness to this peace-free method. Maybe then he wouldn't be held accountable for his actions. Maybe if he murdered Naruto and Kiba he'd be confirming what Tsunade already assumed about his mental stability.

If anything, he could plead insanity at the trial.

Breathe…

Neji drew a steady breath. He curbed the urge to deck or damage either Chūnin and commended himself on keeping his composure. Fate had presented him with yet another opportunity to lose it.

A few more blinks and the world came back into focus.

Sakura had managed to wrestle one of Naruto's arms behind his back, threatening a fracture. She was shouting something about Kiba possessing sensitive 'tapetum lucidum' thrown in with some medical spiel about overexposure being painful to his eyes.

Neji glanced over his shoulder.

Kiba wasn't listening to a word, oblivious to Sakura's explanation of his clan's ocular genetics. Back turned, the Inuzuka had his hands cupped over his face, head thrown back like he was trying to keep his abused eyeballs from falling out his skull.

"Sonova…right in the fucking eyes…"

Naruto summed up the extent of his sympathy in two words. "Drama queen."

"You just blinded me you jackass!"

"You'll be okay in a few minutes, Kiba," Sakura promised.

"I'm gonna end up lookin' like Shino with those stupid shades."

"Kiba, you'll be fine," Sakura slapped her hand over Naruto's mouth to cut off his next wisecrack. "I've seen this before with Inuzuka shinobi who got too close to a flash bomb. The retained retinal image in your eyes will take a little longer to fade out but it'll go."

Naruto wrestled his mouth free with a twist of his head. "Oh come on it was a camera flash!"

Kiba growled over his shoulder. "I'm in pain here."

So am I, Neji thought. It was painful – holding back his fist when all he wanted to do was swing it.

"Anyway, aren't Hyūga eyes more sensitive?" Naruto argued, squinting at Neji with a wince. "Hey, you feeling okay, Neji?"

I'm feeling homicidal…

"I'm fine."

"Oh sure, play it strong, Hyūga." Kiba snorted towards the ceiling, tipping his head back further with hands still cupped over his eyes. "Never mind me seein' dots and stars, you should be seein' black holes and supernovas."

"No." Neji rubbed at his eyes, breathing deep. "Unlike you, I don't have tapeta lucida."

Kiba's head shot up. "What the fuck is tapeta lucida?"

"Sounds pretty bad to me," Naruto needled, grinning at Kiba's rigid back. "Like a disease."

"Stop it," Sakura growled. "It's the plural form."

Kiba whirled around. "Plural form of WHAT?"

"A disease."

"Shut up!" Sakura whacked Naruto upside the back of the head then turned her attention onto a squinting Kiba. "Tapetum lucidum, Kiba, weren't you listening? Ugh. Some Inuzuka shinobi possess this layer of tissue behind or within the retina of both eyes. Like dogs and cats. Just like these animals, your eyes can be sensitive to shifts in light."

Kiba's head came up with a hint of excitement. "You tellin' me I got some nifty dōjutsu I don't even know about?"

"No," Neji broke in. "Just enhanced night vision."

"Way to piss on my parade, Hyūga," Kiba drawled, visibly deflating.

Sakura rolled her eyes, offering the only vote of sympathy disguised as praise. "If it makes you feel better Kiba, you'll have that pretty golden eye-shine in your pictures."

"Hear that, lovebird?" Kiba grinned, eyebrows bobbing above his cupped palms. "Pretty."

"Hyūga eyes are cooler," Naruto laughed, mouth moving faster than his brain, "So Neji's prettier."

Neji went utterly still. "What did you say?"

Naruto blanched.

Kiba whistled lowly. "Shit, I wish I could see his face…"

Kiba would have been sorely disappointed.

Neji's expression was stone cold, his voice a deep cavernous echo. "What did you call me?"

Naruto gulped around a nervous grin that looked more like a grimace. He ducked his head as if expecting a kick. Sakura delivered it straight to his ass, her knee ramming up.

Naruto's eyes flew wide. "OW! Why!"

"I just saved you," she growled.

"By a hairsbreadth," Neji uttered.

"Ain't gonna save you from the pain you've got coming from me." Kiba jabbed his chin in Naruto's direction, peering through the cracks in his fingers. "You better hope and pray I stop seeing dancin' dots and shinin' stars."

"Wuss," Naruto grumbled, earning himself another earful of medical lingo from Sakura that went straight over his head.

"Seriously," Kiba growled, wiping at the inner corners of his eyes with a scowl. "If you've screwed up my tappus looda—

"Tapeta lucida," Sakura sighed.

"Yeah that. If you've messed up my eyes I'm gonna make it so you can't find your own ass in the dark with a map."

"How's that even—"

"Both of you be quiet!" Neji snarled, not appreciating the little bright dots still floating and fading from his own vision. He slashed his arm out again in warning. "Naruto, hand over that blasted camera and give it a rest for one day. You're fortunate to have been invited to this ryokan and I doubt Shikamaru or Ino would appreciate their guests behaving like animals."

"That's not a compliment, Kiba," Naruto snickered.

Kiba flipped him off.

"Naruto," Neji warned.

Relentlessly stubborn, the Uzumaki refused to give up the camera but also failed to put up much of a fight in his own defence, unwilling to provoke Sakura further with her fist still raised above his head.

"Impossible," Neji sighed, the fight going out of him in one hot rush of air.

"So you saw Shikamaru, huh?" Kiba asked.

Neji froze inside, keeping his gaze fixed on Naruto and Sakura to keep from appearing startled. "What?"

"Shikamaru," Kiba repeated, pressing his fingers gingerly around his refocusing eyes before draping one hand over them like a sunshade. "You saw him?"

Neji gave a neutral tip of his head. "Naruto mentioned it was his birthday. I was passing by and thought it appropriate to wish him."

"At this hour? Bet he thanked you for that cockle-doodle-doo," Kiba snickered, listing toward Neji for a moment, his nostrils flaring in a quick sniff. "You smell like him."

Neji's heart stuttered in shock.

STILL…?

Impossible. He'd stood under the hot spray until his skin had flushed raw. He'd walked through a cloud of incense for Gods' sake. He'd been sure to avoid the risk of detection by any nose – be it ninken or Inuzuka.

Then it struck him. Kiba's earlier words.

"This nose upgrade is gonna take some getting used to."

Neji bit down on a curse.

What an inappropriate time for Kiba's rite of passage into his own power. God, he didn't even want to think about what the dog-nin might have picked up on if Shikamaru had been standing there.

"Smell like him?" Neji echoed, trying to sound offended.

"Yeah, Ma calls it the perks and quirks of Inuzuka puberty. I call it my ticket to Tokujō." Kiba cut a sharp grin, tapping his nose. "My nose is sharper than any ninken's right now."

Fuck…

"Congratulations," Neji uttered beneath his breath, finding it hard to pull air into his lungs. "How polite of you to use it to invade my personal space."

Kiba ignored the warning in Neji's smooth voice and leaned in closer, his rough drawl gaining an edge. "If you're in the personal space of my buddies, Hyūga, it's only polite that I make sure you're shaking their hands instead'a smashing in their heads, yeah?"

Neji shot the Inuzuka a razor glare but caught himself just in time.

Calm down.

White eyes chilled into icy pools, the coldness setting his features into a granite mask. It was all he could do to keep from lashing out. Two weeks ago, he'd have done so immediately, in words, if not in action.

Kiba was probably hoping for that.

They'd almost gone for each other's throats twice in Hanegakure. And ever the dog with a bone to pick, Kiba hadn't let go of what Neji had done the night he'd smashed his chakra-laced fist into Shikamaru's skull.

Regret tore across Neji's heart like a hot, jagged blade…and memory bled cold.

Neji sucked in a breath.

Stop…calm down…

Neji exhaled a steady sigh through his nose, expression unchanging.

Kiba shook his head in something like disgust and leaned back against the fusuma wall, adopting a casual stance. He held Neji's gaze, lips pulling back into a baiting and too-bright smile. The glint of savage humour in his eyes gleamed with threat.

No surprise there.

There was no forgiving and forgetting with the Inuzuka – at least not where Neji was concerned. The dog-nin still gnawed over what the Jōnin had gone to Hinata three years ago during the Chūnin exams…and considering what he'd recently done to Shikamaru on their last mission…

This is the last thing I need…

And the first thing he should have seen coming.

Just because Naruto's heart opened the floodgates on forgiveness and the other Chūnin respected Shikamaru enough to follow his lead and trust his judgement, Kiba hadn't fully given up his own instincts on Neji's odd behaviour during the mission.

Can I really blame him for that?

It didn't help that by nature Neji and Kiba gelled with the grace of two grains going against each other. Egos got rubbed up the wrong way almost every time. They were dominant breeds set too far apart to seek or share common ground.

The only thing they shared was a common goal: to protect Konoha.

As comrades, this goal had always been enough to tentatively unite them in the past. But now there was a clear line between Neji's past and his present. And with his altered perspective over the past few weeks, he couldn't help but see Kiba's aggression towards him in a different light.

Understanding his own rage had changed everything.

Kiba's anger wasn't black and tainted like Neji's had been. It was red and instinctive, bold as the slash of his tattoos. It wasn't free of pride or power or even pettiness, but on the whole it was fuelled by something stronger and surer.

Something that until two weeks ago Neji had forgotten he possessed.

Protectiveness…

The kind that went beyond defending a village's populace or preserving the values held and handed down by the generations within its walls. It was the kind of protectiveness that attached itself to people, not to a population or a particular clan. It wasn't about duty or honour or codes of conduct.

It was about bonds.

Bonds wrapped up in this innate protectiveness and the urge to act on it for the sake of family and friends. Neji knew all about action. He'd just never had that kind of motive.

He'd only ever felt it once: for his father.

And he'd thought it had died with Hizashi…until Shikamaru.

The will to protect…

The same will flickering in Kiba's eyes.

Neji turned his gaze away.

Once again, he'd been blind to a truth he hadn't stopped to consider. It was a painfully hypocritical hindsight. The realisation that despite every cutting remark he'd ever made about the Inuzuka's wild and unbridled behaviour, out of the two of them, Kiba had always been the more human.

Neji's lip twitched in a wry smile.

So blind…to so much…I think I win on the irony front, Nara…

Shikamaru had given him back more than the heart he thought had stopped feeling when his father's had stopped beating. The Nara had pulled the shadows away from his eyes, allowing him to see the world – and the people in it – in those shades of colour that had begun to fade to grey.

"You once called me a stone cold bastard," Neji said.

Kiba arched a brow. "That's random."

"Relevant," Neji corrected, shaking his head. "You weren't wrong."

Kiba's brows lifted in surprise before dropping into a frown.

"I wasn't wrong?" the dog-nin echoed sarcastically. "You're worse than Shino. Why can't you just say 'you were right' instead of—" He cut off, turning his head a little more. "Wait, what is this? An apology?"

"No." Neji turned to face Kiba head on. "An overdue acknowledgement."

Kiba rocked his head to one side, looking at Neji sideways. "Yeah right."

Neji didn't recant his words or his actions, he just waited.

Acknowledgement meant recognition and respect – things that he'd only ever manufactured around Kiba for the sake of civility. But for the first time, there was nothing contrived or cold in his words or in his gaze.

No arrogance, no aggression, no alpha male faceoff.

Kiba frowned harder, as if a natural order had just been violated. Maybe it had. He'd issued a threat to Neji with his earlier words and Neji had responded by offering a truce.

A truce signed in respect.

As predicted, Kiba reacted like a baffled animal. Blinking fast, his head tilted further to the side in a way that suggested he was trying to examine the whole situation from a different angle.

"You've gotta be shitting me, right?"

Neji shook his head.

Unsatisfied, Kiba leaned in, his aura bold and invasive.

Neji knew he was trying to trigger a reaction and made no move to adopt the role of rival, tempting as it was. He hadn't expected Kiba to make this easy. Even so, he'd aimed to make a point here – hopefully a turning point – and there was no going back. He needed to move forward, especially with comrades he'd almost come to blows with in the past.

This needs to stop.

He and Kiba were always on the knife's edge of a violent confrontation.

Whether or not this moment tipped them over that edge was resting squarely on Kiba's shoulders. But judging from the furrow digging into the dog-nin's forehead it was a weight the other ninja didn't seem comfortable carrying alone. They'd always shared the load of their joint animosity towards each other.

But Neji had let it go.

Would Kiba keep dragging it with him into never-ending next times?

The dog-nin appeared to be debating this behind narrowed eyes, his tongue pressed against a sharp fang. He remained leaning in, drawing out the tension just to see if anything in Neji would snap or buckle.

The Hyūga checked his control ruthlessly.

I'll have enough fighting to do soon enough…this ends here…

Cementing this into his mind, Neji held his concrete position. Only he held it without the condescending air that normally chilled his face and turned his eyes to ice. It wasn't about pride this time – it was about integrity and intention.

Kiba must have sensed it as strongly as if he'd smelt it.

He leaned back a bit.

And then, for the first time, both shinobi held their ground without looking to shake or knock the other off their own turf. Respect might have held some tentative footing between them but it didn't get a firm toehold, hovering in and out of Kiba's eyes in wary flickers.

But it was enough.

"Well it's a cold day in hell," the Inuzuka muttered, backing off a step. "You're actually serious."

Neji let out a silent breath. "I don't make jokes."

Kiba hummed a low 'hn' in his throat, a faint smile failing to disguise the suspicion narrowing his eyes. But rather than sniff out the cause for Neji's change in attitude, Kiba shrugged it off like a wolf giving up the hunt – though Neji sensed the questions were howling around in his head.

The Inuzuka's smile stretched into a grin. "Good thing I didn't make a bet on this moment. Shikamaru would'a won."

Neji blinked. "Oh?"

"Yeah, the other day I said you were like a pissy tiger with stripes that weren't gonna change."

"Hn. And what did he say?"

"Other than 'troublesome'?" Kiba hooked his thumbs into the waist of his jeans, shrugging. "He said you were human like everyone else."

Neji's heart throbbed in his chest.

He managed a weak smirk, feigning nonchalance he didn't feel. "How uncreative of him."

"He's one lazy bastard, right?" Kiba laughed.

Naruto's yell startled them both. "MAKE HER STOP!"

Neji and Kiba glanced down at the wrestling teammates who'd tumbled further along the corridor. They'd taken their tussle to the ground and Sakura sat astride her victim with fists raised, threatening brain haemorrhage to the tortured Uzumaki. Naruto had adopted a foetal-position but was still shaking with laughter rather than fear.

Neji arched a brow, finally somewhat amused.

Kiba barked a laugh and clapped Neji on the shoulder, turning to head over and crouch down beside Naruto all in the same movement. He patted the back of his hand mockingly against the Uzumaki's whiskered cheek.

"I was gonna kick your ass, but now I just kinda feel sorry for you."

Naruto unfurled himself with a growl, about to reply. Sakura took the opportunity to hook his arms back, only to have her plan foiled by Kiba. The dog-nin saw the opening and took it. He snatched the camera from under Naruto's shirt, jumped back and whistled a shrill note.

A loud bark warned Neji of an incoming.

He looked up just as Akamaru rounded the corner at the end of the corridor.

The bounding mass of white fur skidded to a halt beside Kiba, who vaulted onto his trusty mutt with a wild whoop, hitching his ride. "Wey hey, buddy! Right on time!"

"KIBA!" Sakura roared.

Laughing like the devil in jeans, Kiba held up the camera and saluted the fuming Sakura and slack-jawed Naruto with a wild grin. "Animal reflexes, baby."

Sakura shoved off Naruto with a growl.

Kiba flexed his thighs and Akamaru bolted down the corridor like a bronco, a single bound carrying master and mutt straight over a woman balancing plates. She spun about with a startled shriek, rattling china.

"KIBA!" Sakura yelled after him.

Kiba deigned her with a backward wave.

Neji had to admire the quick exit, that is, if Kiba had actually planned it that way.

Fists balled at her sides, Sakura vibrated on the spot, strands of pink quivering above her shoulders. Naruto took the opportunity to crawl across towards Neji, pressing his finger to his lips when the Hyūga glanced down, arching a brow with a "you've-got-to-be-joking" expression.

Sakura whipped around, ready to vent her wrath. "NARUTO!"

The Uzumaki bounded up behind Neji and grabbed the Jōnin's shoulders, displaying no shame whatsoever in commandeering the Hyūga as his human shield.

"Naruto," Neji gritted out, turning his head to glare over his shoulder.

Sakura's gaze hit on Neji's exposed jaw and she halted mid-step, her expression changing. Her fist loosened as she stalked over, stabbing a finger over Neji's shoulder towards Naruto's ducked head.

"You're going to be late for Kakashi and Yamato-sensei," she scolded, switching from harbinger of brain-haemorrhages to responsible teammate. "No slacking!"

Neji shot her a questioning look.

Naruto, however, didn't question his good fortune. Hands still planted on Neji's shoulders, he pivoted the Hyūga around by degrees, unwilling to give up his 'bodyguard' until he'd orbited out of Sakura's reach.

For Gods' sake…

Preserving what precious little remained of his patience, Neji allowed himself to be rotated with a longsuffering breath streaming through his nose. The muscles in his jaw ticked with every fractional turn of his body until Naruto stopped, patted him on the shoulders and zipped off down the corridor in Kiba's wake.

Sakura waited until the Uzumaki turned the corner before speaking. "Neji, what happened?"

"Happened?"

Sakura brushed her fingertips across her jaw. "Those bruises, you've got chakra burn too."

Neji rolled his shoulders in a slow grind, feeling his defences rising up. His expression smoothed out into unreadable stillness.

"Sparring," he said, ignoring the dubious look Sakura fixed him with.

"You want me to heal it?"

"No…thank you."

Sakura pressed her lips, the tense line of her mouth pulling into a faint smile. "I figured you got back safe. How're you doing?"

He nodded. "I'm well."

"The brodifacoum should be working its way out by now."

"It is."

"Any side-effects?"

"None."

"That's good." She paused, doubt clouding the relief in her eyes. "When I heard you'd signed up to go back to Hanegakure, I didn't know whether…" she trailed off, biting her lip.

Neji could almost hear the buzz of her nerves.

"Whether?" he prompted quietly.

"Are you angry?" she asked.

Neji blinked, tucking his chin back. "Angry?"

The kunoichi nodded, searching his expression in a futile effort. "I just…I thought that's why you left so soon after you got back."

"That wasn't my reason."

"Neji, we never had time to explain. It all happened so fast and then it—"

Neji raised a palm to cut her short. "Don't." He mellowed his tones at her wide-eyed look. "There's nothing to explain, Sakura."

And certainly nothing he wished to discuss. Explanations always led to re-evaluations. He had no intention of allowing his mind to regurgitate that painful experience just to have the 'how' and 'why' of it fed back to him all over again.

It had been necessary.

The fact was bitter and unpalatable…but no less the truth…and that simple, painful truth was all he needed to know. A bitter pill his pride still couldn't swallow. But another part of him had understood and accepted that this bitter pill had purged him of a poison far more toxic and lethal than the brodifacoum.

"It was necessary."

"But Shikamaru didn't wan—"

"It was necessary, Sakura."

Sakura gave him a look that managed to combine regret with relief, though she sounded guilty for feeling either. Her voice was a whisper. "I'm so sorry it happened that way."

Neji offered a faint smile. "Don't be."

If there was any other way it could have happened, then just like Shikamaru, he didn't ever want to know.

The firefly winked at him, the thin gold leaf wings painted into delicate points. Shikamaru studied the purple symbol marking the door of Ino's luxury suite, not having noticed the intricate detail the night before.

He stood for a long moment, following the design.

A bag sat by his feet, the drawstring loose enough to reveal the shiny plastic of the Magic 8 ball bulging from the opening. It's fortune-telling navel peered up at Shikamaru like a Buddha's belly eager for a rub without the promise of good luck.

Is Ino gonna grill me?

Shikamaru nudged it with his foot, watched the ink slosh and the dice roll.

CANNOT PREDICT NOW.

He smirked.

How predictable. Too bad he couldn't apply this ambiguity to his own answers. He already knew Ino would demand an explanation from him. Maybe she'd use the Magic 8 Ball method on his skull and hope something rattled loose and surfaced from the murky waters in his mind.

Though come to think of it, things felt clearer to him now.

Much clearer.

He hadn't expected that. If anything he'd expected his head to have gone into a tailspin after last night. For some trigger to have blown in the back of his brain and splattered one hell of a mess over everything he'd been trying to scrape back into order.

Instead he felt stronger, steadier.

Like he'd stopped running long enough to catch his breath.

For all the running he'd been doing, he felt like he'd finally gained some ground; the kind that wouldn't give way beneath his feet if he inched his mental steps too far in Neji's direction. Maybe one day he'd be strong enough to take the memories out of their mental frames and hold them without feeling that yawning sense of loss.

One day…

He wasn't quite there yet. But for the first time, he believed that maybe, someday, he could be.

One day…

But not today.

Now that he'd stopped running and the dust had settled, he felt more aware of his surroundings and the people in it. He'd have called it an epiphany, but didn't like the drama attached to the word.

Better get ready for some drama…

Ino had probably saved up a load of it in her arsenal of "You Owe Me".

Before Shikamaru could contemplate how many ways to avoid taking flak, he heard the approaching whisper of footsteps across the polished floors. Turning his head, he spied a young staff member approaching, checking doors.

He offered a polite nod when she stopped beside him.

The woman flicked her eyes from him to the door. "This is your room?"

He shrugged. It might as well have been. "Sure."

She bowed and held out a small silver tray filled with flowers and topped with a small receipt booklet. It was wedged artfully in the centre. "Your bill, Yamanaka-san."

Shikamaru arched a brow. "Huh?"

She straightened up quickly, checking the receipt. "You booked several spa treatments yesterday."

Hn. Figures.

Shikamaru bit down on his tongue to keep from smiling. "Right. What did I book in for again?"

The woman frowned and checked the receipt, a cross between confusion and embarrassment registering on her face. She wouldn't look him in the eye.

Oh great.

Why the hell had he even asked?

"Never mind," he said. "How much does it total?"

The woman pressed her lips and handed him the booklet, staring at the floor with a bright shade of pink tinting her cheeks.

Shit...

Shikamaru flipped open the cover and made a point of skimming straight over the list of spa treatments – though he was pretty sure he spied the words "goddess" and "honey bath" thrown in there. Then he saw the whopping grand total. His brows shot up, the corners of his mouth pulling into a wince. Well shit, this would sure set Ino back on a few shiny spending sprees.

"Yamanaka-san?" the woman asked. "Is something wrong?"

"No." Shikamaru shook his head, though his frown said otherwise.

It wasn't the price that puzzled him, it was the fact that Ino hadn't put her name down. He guessed it might have had something to do with that moron who had been eyeing her up the other night at the party.

His frown turned a tad darker.

"Sir?" the woman pressed.

Shikamaru hummed distractedly and crouched down to rummage around in his duffle-bag, tugging out a worn leather wallet branded with the Nara symbol. Taking the ryō needed to cover the bill – which completely cleaned him out – he stood, took the receipt and slipped the payment into the booklet, handing it back.

"Thanks."

The woman had gone red, her entire face a mottled lobster shade. She offered him a lotus-looking flower, bowed politely and whispered off along the corridor.

Shikamaru waited until she turned the corner.

Then he glanced down to re-read the receipt resting in his bandaged hand and grimaced.

Hn. That explains it...

Scanning the long slip of paper, he scowled at the list of beauty treatments and all but blanched at an overpriced workshop: Discover Your Inner Goddess. The shadow-nin suppressed a shudder and stuffed the receipt into his pocket, wincing at the pain in his hand.

Get healed. Get fed. Get back to the grindstone.

He glanced up when a muffled sound carried through from the other side of the door: Chōji's laughter. It was followed by a high giggle that Shikamaru hoped was Ino and not the Akimichi.

Smiling faintly, Shikamaru took a step back and considered his next move.

If anything, it would get his teammates' attention. Taking the flower in his bandaged palm he raised his other hand to the door, rapping out a syllabic beat he knew they'd recognise.

Two distinct double knocks and a single rap.

Knock-Knock. Knock-Knock. Knock.

Translation: Ino-Shika-Chō.

Immediately, he heard the quick brush of feet across the tatami mats followed by the rattle of room keys. Shikamaru switched the flower to his good hand, crouched to sling the knapsack over one shoulder and straightened up just as the door handle turned.

The strong smell of nail varnish had Shikamaru's nose wrinkling.

Slim fingers hooked around the edge of the wood and lilac fingernails caught the light, the polish wet and shiny. A shuffle of feet and the door eased open another inch to reveal half of Ino's face, cast in shadow and framed by the thick fall of her bangs. The golden strands were damp and tangled, streaking lowlights of deep honey through the pale mass. She had a few wayward tendrils clipped up to one side.

"You haven't done that in two years," Ino murmured.

Shikamaru couldn't see her expression clearly, but he could detect a single cerulean eye observing him warily.

He managed a weak smirk, canting his weight onto his right hip with a shrug and slouch. "Surprise."

Ino didn't laugh or smile, but she did open the door. The light from the corridor struck a halo glow about her flaxen head, though Shikamaru knew better than to equate the word 'angelic' with the hellfire rising in those blue eyes.

She scowled at him. "You bailed on us."

Shikamaru pressed his lips, but didn't deny it.

"You didn't come back," Ino added unnecessarily, drumming her nails in an impatient click against the wood, waiting for an apology he wasn't going to give.

"Maybe I figured you'd still be out of it," he muttered.

Ino pulled her head back and her face did a kind of stop-motion animation, running through several expressions in a flash that happened so fast it was impossible to follow. It ended with a blank stare at the floor.

Shikamaru frowned, not sure how to interpret the reaction.

"Did I..." Ino shook off her numb stare and glanced at the small firefly glinting on the door. "Did I say anything to you?"

Shikamaru arched a brow, though at least he could predict where this was heading. He wasn't sure whether to encourage the direction though. His mind flashed forward the image of Ino curled up on the couch, weeping into it as her tears and loose tongue told the tale he knew she'd never have confessed sober.

"Mom was right…no one wants me."

Shikamaru glanced away, gazing along the corridor to keep from settling a concerned look on her face. He swallowed, shaking his head as he debated black truths or white lies.

"Did I?" Ino ground out.

"Yeah."

Ino's nails dug into the door. "Like?"

Shikamaru shrugged. "You wanted to go dancing. You also thought it was fun to pick up where Temari left off in assassinating my character…and you threw several insults and kicks in there, just to be troublesome."

"What? That's it?"

"That's it."

Ino let out a high little laugh, that tremulous, affected one she always made when nervous. "Seriously?"

"…Yeah. What? Didn't meet your quota?"

Ino rolled her eyes, but Shikamaru could sense the relief that shook out in her breath. When she looked back at him, she'd recovered her cattish attitude, blue eyes tapering into an accusatory stare.

"You still didn't come back."

"I'm here now."

"Big effort," Ino muttered.

Shikamaru arched a brow and held up the flower to her.

Her eyes widened in a flash of surprise and then narrowed, searching for the intention behind the gesture. "Is that your apology?"

"It's a flower," he returned.

Ino huffed, plucked the bloom from his hand and stepped away from the threshold, leaving the door ajar. With a swish of purple silk, she tightened the belt on her yukata and padded barefoot back through the foyer into the main guest room, splaying her steps to avoid disturbing the cotton wads shoved between lilac-painted toes.

"Well come on, slacker," she growled over her shoulder, tucking the purple flower behind her ear.

Shikamaru shook his head and shut the door behind him, following after her. He made sure to keep his injured hand tucked into the pocket of his slacks.

Ino heralded her return with a dramatic sigh. "Guess who I found on the doorstep."

Chōji shifted on the couch, reluctant to unglue his eyes from the television screen. But the second Shikamaru stepped through the shoji doors the Akimichi's attention switched faster than a channel flick, tuning into his teammates.

"Hey!" he grinned, hitting mute on the movie. "We were gonna come get you for breakfast."

"Chōji was," Ino corrected.

Shikamaru raised his eyebrows in a 'here we go again' display of resignation. That set the ground rules for Ino's mood, flower or no flower. Judging from experience, she'd remain crabby until she'd eaten.

Great.

Chōji grimaced at Ino's glare and shot Shikamaru an apologetic look, offering his buddy some potato chips in compensation. "You musta slept well, huh?"

The shadow-nin shrugged off the offer for chips with a smile, dodging the question at the same time. "You guys hungry for some real food?"

"My diet re-starts today," Ino announced.

Chōji's stomach took that moment to orchestrate an impressive symphony of gurgles and growls that tapered off into a high pitch whine that sounded like a question.

Shikamaru chuckled quietly.

Ino shot the Akimichi a scandalised look. "Really? After all the cake we polished off last night?"

The Akimichi grinned sheepishly, scratching at a swirl on his cheek.

"You can order a coffee," Shikamaru said. "Negate those calories or whatever your crazy thinking is behind that."

"Wow, you actually remembered," Ino rolled her eyes, rounding the low table. "Well you'll both just have to wait 'til I'm finished."

Shikamaru arched a brow and dipped his shoulder to drop his knapsack beside the lacquered table. The surface was covered with an array – or rather an army – of nail varnish bottles. Ino had divided them into ranks, colour-coded in varying shades of purple.

Shikamaru grunted. "Girly."

Ino sat down on a cushion and shot him a sarcastic look, curling her fingers to blow across her nails. "Good thing you bailed. I'd have got you in your sleep."

"She's not lying," Chōji said, holding up a hand to display a bright lilac thumbnail and a lavender pinky.

Shikamaru's expression flat-lined. "And you're still wearing it."

Ino smirked. "You should see his toenails."

"I don't wanna know…"

"She's kidding," Chōji laughed.

Shikamaru shook his head, making a face.

"Aww, don't worry, Shikamaru," Ino needled. "I'd have painted yours black to match your zombie-dark rings and general jackass moodiness."

"Hn." He sat down opposite Ino and pinched one of the dark purple bottles between forefinger and thumb, twirling it in a lazy spin. "Come to think of it, it'll probably match the rest of my right hand."

Ino flicked her eyes up from her nails. "What?"

Shikamaru sighed, but figured it was time to come clean if he was going to get this healed. He lifted his bandaged fist from his lap and set it with a light tap on the tabletop; the skin was discoloured to the bruised hues of a rotten peach.

Chōji's crisp packet stopped rustling.

Ino's lips parted in an 'O' of surprise, matching the rounding of her eyes.

Chōji spoke first. "What happened?"

What didn't?

Shikamaru shrugged. "I put my fist through a wall."

Chōji frowned. "You what?"

"You idiot!" Ino snapped, shoving onto her knees, wads of cotton and drying polish all but forgotten. "Why would you do something like that?"

"General jackass moodiness," Shikamaru muttered.

"That's not funny," Ino growled and reached across the table, grabbing his wrist to tug and turn the injured hand between her palms. "Is anything broken?"

Shikamaru bit down on a wince. "Not yet."

Ino frowned harder and cupped his swollen fist.

"You idiot," she growled again, softer this time. "Stay still." Pulling in a slow breath, the Yamanaka focused on directing curative chakra to the centre of her palms, flooding it along her fingers.

Shikamaru felt the tingle of nerve endings and the buzz of chakra flowing hot and cold along his arm up to his elbow, looping back down to the ends of his fingers.

Chōji looked on from the couch.

Shikamaru could sense the Akimichi studying him with concern that was hard enough to take from his friend at the best of times, let alone the times when there was a justified cause for it.

"Relax, Chōji."

"Seriously, why?" the Akimichi asked.

Shikamaru pressed his lips. This was the part where the script wrote itself up in his head one lying line at a time. All he had to do was follow it. Let his lips move and the bullshit would flow like breath.

But for the first time in days, he found he couldn't do it.

"Guess it's just been pending," Shikamaru murmured, flexing his fingers between Ino's palms.

"Tell us something we don't know, genius," Ino mumbled, concentrating the green glow towards the centre of Shikamaru's hand. "You've been in a funk ever since you got back from Hanegakure."

Shikamaru didn't even try to argue in his own defence. He glanced at Chōji to find the Akimichi's support weighing in Ino's favour, all communicated in a rueful smile. Shikamaru looked down.

"It's not even like you failed the mission," Ino pointed out, reaching with smudged nails to tug off the bandages. "So what's up with that? Is it because Neji got hurt?"

Shikamaru flinched, a reaction that Ino mistook for his hand feeling sore. She gentled her motions, unravelling the medic tape with care, muttering something like "big baby" beneath her breath.

Chōji spoke up when the shadow-nin failed to answer. "That wasn't your fault, you know."

"I know," Shikamaru replied, not even bothering to dig deep enough to discover whether he truly believed that. It wasn't important right now. "It's not that."

"Then what is it?" Ino asked.

Shikamaru made a fist, grinding the bones to test the pain. Not even a twinge. The bruises and scars on his knuckles had gone. The damage fixed. Clean and simple. Unlike the conversation. Unlike the truth.

"Shikamaru?" Ino pressed, kneeling back. "What's wrong?"

Shikamaru worked his jaw, eyes on the table.

He suddenly wished Asuma were there, wanting nothing more than to just be in his sensei's grounding presence. The tension became thick enough to have the shadow-nin sucking in a breath against the uncomfortable pressure.

"Shikamaru," Chōji urged.

Nodding, Shikamaru drew his hand back in a slow drag, pausing to hook nail varnish bottles between his knuckles, swapping their positions with an elegant twist and dip of his fingers.

His teammates watched in silence.

He repeated the motion, rearranging the formation.

"This is what I do," he said at last, his voice quiet enough that Chōji had to get up from the couch and join them at the table.

Ino exchanged a glance with the Akimichi before studying Shikamaru with her head tilted to one side. "What do you mean?" she asked.

"You guys know I play things out like Shogi," Shikamaru clarified, another dance of his fingers creating two arrowhead formations directed at each of his friends. "And when I do, it could be something close to me I'm moving around…" he switched the arrangement into a square. "Or it could be something I don't give a crap about. It's a drag, but I do it. We all play our roles, right?"

Ino gave a sharp nod. "Right."

"You bet," Chōji said.

Shikamaru smiled a little, sensing their undivided attention like lasers tracking his movements. "The mission is like a board. It changes but the game doesn't. Protect our King and capture or compromise our enemy's…" he paused, glancing up. "Right?"

"Sounds about right," Chōji said, looking between Shikamaru and Ino.

Ino frowned, her eyes zeroed in on Shikamaru. "But it's not right, is it?"

"Is it?" Shikamaru's lips twisted bitterly, bistre eyes pressing shut. He passed a hand across his face to rub at his brow. "You guys tell me. You trust me to get it right…maybe I can't always do that. I can't always guarantee that checkmate for our side."

Ino scoffed, puffing up in offence. "Well, duh, Shikamaru. Just because you're super smart, doesn't mean we're 'stupid simple'. I mean seriously."

Shikamaru frowned at the glib response, looking up sharply. "What?"

"We know how the 'game goes' or whatever. That trust thing works two ways you know?" Ino flicked her wrist, waving off his confused glower. "Anyway, that's not what you need to trust us with, is it?"

The shadow-nin glanced between them, eyes narrowed as he searched for whatever answer they assumed he already had. "Isn't it?"

Ino shot him an expectant and exasperated glare.

The Nara gazed back blankly.

Throwing her hands up, Ino sloughed a tortured sigh. She turned her exasperated look onto Chōji, expecting him to take up her point and somehow use it to make a dent in Shikamaru's brain.

Begrudging his own need to know, Shikamaru ground his jaw. "Translation?"

Ever the middleman, Chōji raised his hands to hold off misunderstandings, turning to face Shikamaru. "She means that we get it, Shikamaru."

"I know you get it. I trust you to get it. It's the only way I can do it."

"Oh my god, not the missions!" Ino snapped. "How are you not getting this?"

Shikamaru scowled. "Getting what?"

"That we get you," Chōji said.

Shikamaru drew his head back, body bolting ahead of his brain. Before he could register he'd even reacted, the heel of his hand had braced against the edge of the table, ready to propel him up and away. It happened so suddenly he didn't have time to correct or disguise the movement.

Chōji spoke before he could think to act on it. "And just like Asuma-sensei, we know you're more than who you think you are when you're doing what you do."

"You're way more than that," Ino added, hugging her knees to her chest. "You might be the biggest brain in Konoha, but that's not all you've got."

"Yeah and we've been trying to show you that. Well, remind you."

"But you're not listening or looking beyond your stupid fat head," Ino crabbed her hands into the shadow-nin's trademark 'strategic' pose. "It's like you're spilling your mission mode into everything. Frankly, it's freaking us out."

Yeah, me too…

Shikamaru clenched his jaw to keep from uttering the thought aloud, his breath shaking out quietly. He heard their breaths hitch and cursed himself for even making a sound.

Chōji set his hand on the table, drawing Shikamaru's gaze. "We've been trying to tell you without actually telling you."

"And you still don't get it." Ino sighed. "It's like you're lost in space around your brain. Seriously, what happened to the lazy-ass slacker we know and love to harass?"

Shikamaru stared down at the small bottles he'd arranged on the table, unable to respond with his usual quick riposte. He swallowed uncomfortably, the muscles in his face tense, lips drawn taut.

"Maybe he grew up…" he murmured. "We're not kids anymore."

"Well speak for yourself, old man!" Ino huffed, splaying her hand above her chest. "We just hit seventeen and I'm ready to bask in the flame of my youth, okay?"

Shikamaru smiled a little at that. "You don't do that already?"

Ino struck a pose. "Do you see purple spandex?"

That one earned her a raspy chuckle and Shikamaru brushed his fingers over his lips to quieten the sound, shaking his head. But the response earned him twin grins from his friends.

"See?" Ino wagged a finger at him. "That's what we're talking about. Getting you to laugh has been a mission."

"I laugh," Shikamaru defended.

"Dude, you don't even laugh at the bird," Chōji grinned. "That's not right."

"That bird's not right," Shikamaru argued, smiling.

"Well whatever, you're not exactly a giggly kind of guy," Ino admitted. "But still, it's been scary seeing you go all introvert, especially with your kind of head, it's probably not healthy."

"That's why we want you to know that we're still here, you know?" Chōji added. "Even if you're not really 'getting' that. It's okay."

God, said out loud like this it all seemed so…uncomplicated. But in the catacombs of Shikamaru's mind, the complications risked leading him astray, maybe even leading him down into the shadows of doubt…and the shadows that went into deeper, darker places.

I don't want to hide this…but I…

Chōji's hand touched his shoulder. "Shikamaru?"

The shadow-nin swallowed again, shaking his head. "You're wrong," he husked out. "I know you've both been there. You always are. I know that…I guess it's just been hard to see the difference lately…between who I am and what I do…"

He shrugged as if to say his words were unimportant and unnecessary. He knew they were far from either. And he didn't need to look up to sense his teammates knew it too.

Chōji squeezed his shoulder and he heard Ino shift position.

"Wanna know what'll make it easier when you forget?" she chirped.

Shikamaru nodded without looking up. "Shoot."

Ino didn't answer, not in words anyway. Her pale hand slid across the table and she began to rearrange the bottles Shikamaru was staring at into a different shape, taking her time to pick and place each one. Deliberate, slow.

Shikamaru watched from beneath his lashes, frowning.

After several taps, Ino finished setting up a large circle with a smaller one in the centre. On cue, Chōji reached across to help finish the design, lining up three bottles in the middle to complete the symbol: the number 10 inside a circle.

Shikamaru's eyes widened a little.

He didn't see Chōji and Ino exchange a glance and nod.

They leaned back and dropped their hands to the table, drumming out the same syllabic beat Shikamaru had used when he'd knocked on the door. It drilled home the message they'd created with the symbol and brought to mind all the countless times they'd used it in their Genin days.

Ino-Shika-Chō…

Shikamaru's lips curved gently and he closed his eyes. "I hear you."

An easy silence settled around the table, warm and companionable in a way it hadn't been for weeks. Shikamaru soaked it in and felt the tension crumbling out of him.

Thank you…

The acceptance from his friends settled like unseen hands on his shoulders – keeping a grip on him so he could let go of whatever it was he could never bring himself to say. At least not to them.

Sensei...

Shikamaru's chest tightened.

Someday I'll talk about it…

Breathing deep he slipped his eyes open and found a smile for his friends.

But not today.

"Dammit!"

The drawer of the filing cabinet slammed shut. The resounding clang of metal echoed loud and long through the warren of rooms that dominated the subbasement of the Konoha Archive Library. A cluster of dens filled with a wealth of information and resources dating back to the founding of Konohagakure.

It was the place he'd come to find something, anything.

But he could find nothing.

Not even a damned footnote.

Asuma snarled, bracing his forearm across the cabinet. "Shit…"

He stubbed out his sixth cigarette against the wall and added another stain to pockmarked plaster, the cracked surface streaked with the beginnings of mildew. Snagging a hand back through his hair, the Sarutobi sighed out a plume of smoke into the dust motes swirling under the glare of the lamplight above his head.

Good thing he wasn't claustrophobic.

He'd been holed up in this musty, stuffy, windowless room for the past two hours, scouring filing cabinets, raiding folders for details of mission reports dating back two years. Good thing he'd taken the opportunity to pull rank on Kotetsu and Izumo. As the Hokage's personal gofers, familiar with the cramped layout of the catacombs, they'd granted him access to the lower levels of the archive building.

Asuma growled out another curse.

A couple of rooms down, he heard the low mewl of a cat.

His mind strayed to Kurenai and her earlier words to him.

"You didn't fail anyone..."

Too bad I can't convince myself to believe that.

Pushing away from the cabinet, he turned a slow circle about the huge square table taking up the centre of the room. Boxes were stacked at each corner and lamps sat like spotlights atop the haphazard piles, directing their beams onto the papers and scrolls strewn across the table.

The proverbial haystack without a needle of useful information in sight.

Asuma sighed and let his gaze shift to a long scroll of text that spilled over the edge of the table, lolling like a paper tongue onto the floor: a full listing of Konoha's ninja examinations over the past several years. The rest of the scattered material was a compilation of reports all related to the Chūnin exams two years ago, written by team leaders and accompanying proctors.

Dated, signed-off on and stamped.

Asuma propped a foot on the metal folding chair pulled up to the table, hitched the pant leg of his slacks and braced his arm across his knee. He wasn't giving up that easy. Rolling up the sleeves of his turtleneck, he rolled his wrists to adjust the heavy metal bracelets and hunkered over the table. Tapping a finger onto a stained sheet, he scanned across and along the rows and columns of text.

Two years ago…Chōji and Ino made Chūnin during the first Chūnin biannual exam. It was 6 months after that…that something happened…

He stopped scrolling when he hit the date for the second Chūnin exam held that same year, 6 months later. He double-checked the location. It had been held in Kusagakure at the end of September. Shikamaru had just turned fifteen.

That's right…straight after his birthday he went back to that second exam…

Asuma hadn't seen the point of sending his student along until Tsunade had insisted the young Nara get sufficient invigilator training. She'd wanted Shikamaru stationed as a proctor in the following year's exams that had ended up being held in Suna.

Right, I know that whatever happened to him happened in Kusagakure during those previous exams.

While the questions and possibilities had haunted Asuma for two years, finding answers now felt no different to the attempts he'd made the first time around. Though the first time around, he hadn't been chasing paper trails.

Back then, he'd been chasing a ghost.

Shikamaru just hadn't been there, only a shadow wearing his face.

You fooled everyone…and I let you fool me into thinking I could catch you.

But it was only Shikamaru's shadows he'd been following, led astray in a red-herring kind of chase. And like a fool, he'd fallen for it. Instead of grabbing Shikamaru and demanding answers to his questions, he'd let those questions hang like lifelines, never wanting to think that maybe Shikamaru had been too far gone at the time to reach up and grab them like he always had as a Genin.

Where did you go, kid?

Asuma pressed his eyes shut against the memory.

I should have followed this further, caught you and pulled you back...

Sure, he'd done his own investigating behind the scenes. He'd searched every indirect avenue he could think of to avoid cornering his student. But he'd met with dead-ends that twisted back on themselves. He couldn't get a grip on anything concrete and Shikamaru had offered no signs to direct him.

And the second you came back on your own, I let it go…

Because the relief had been too great…and even stronger than that relief had been Asuma's fear of fucking things up and driving his student back into that void. So for the sake of keeping Shikamaru together in the only way he'd known how, he'd selfishly agreed to bury his questions…and he'd let Shikamaru bury his answers.

You fucking coward, Sarutobi…

And now here he was, back in the paper trail, re-opening the cold case file on his student. And even now, two years on, the answers were still like peas lost in a shell game. Clues constantly vanishing under the sleight of hand movements Shikamaru kept up with his defences.

And I let you pull that crap because I thought that's what you needed…thought that being there for you was enough…God what the hell was I thinking? Too little, too late…every fucking time it matters most.

Guilt sawed through Asuma like a rusty knife, tearing him down the centre. He ground his jaw, curling his fingers into a fist above the reports until his knuckles blanched white.

"You never failed me, sensei. Not once."

Asuma shook his head, letting out a rattled sigh. "Can't bullshit a bullshitter, kid."

And I'm sure as hell not failing you twice.

"First sign of madness," a voice drawled from the doorway.

Jolted from his thoughts, Asuma snapped his head up, squinting past the glare of the lamplight towards to door. He caught a glint of steel – a thin flash of light that tapered down into a pinprick, twinkling like a teardrop at the end of the senbon.

"Talking to yourself," the voice clarified.

Asuma tipped his head, his throat rough and tight. "Genma."

The senbon winked in response, a lone star in the darkness. Shadows cloaked the threshold and spilled into the corridor beyond, swallowing Genma's lean frame into nothing more than a silhouette, making him indiscernible from the black.

"Interesting reading material…" the Shiranui said.

Asuma cracked a lopsided smirk. "Oh yeah, it's riveting stuff."

The senbon winked again. Once. Twice. Then it shot across the room, struck sparks off the chrome of a gooseneck lamp and redirected the beam of light towards a filing cabinet at the other end of the room.

Asuma grunted. "Show off."

Genma stepped out from the shadows, moving over to the cabinet he'd literally highlighted. "Raidō says your brat-pack's all signed up. They've come a long way."

"Yeah."

"Heard Shikamaru turned down the Feudal Lord's offer."

Asuma hummed, reserving comment. Contrary to whatever jokes rippled through the Jōnin ranks about his 'Team 10' pride, he didn't like talking about his students. Kakashi was the only one he exchanged notes with and even then said notes underwent strict edits to avoid too much red pen. If his Team were going to come under anyone's scrutiny then it would be his alone.

Unless I'm drunk and shooting my mouth off…

He winced at the massive blanks in his brain.

What the hell had he said to Kakashi about Shikamaru anyway? He remembered snippets of more sober dialogue, but he was pretty sure that as the saké flowed, so did the unadulterated truth towards the end of the night. What made it more complicated was that Genma had been there during the unadulterated part. And as for the topic of their drunken musings, it could have been anything.

Hell, he could have said anything.

Shit.

Hopefully, they'd all been too wasted to recall much of what had been spilled or sloshed around in slurred conversation. Rubbing at his eyes, Asuma took a moment to regroup his thoughts and focus them back on the information at hand.

Focus.

Both Jōnin settled into their respective tasks and into respectful silence.

Time was marked only by the soft clink of Genma's teeth grinding on steel.

A good hour must have passed by the time Asuma finished scanning the side-op listings. A record that detailed any second-leg missions attached to the Chūnin exams in Kusagakure. It wasn't unusual for that to happen. The Chūnin exams presented ample opportunities for villages to rake in extra ryō by taking on side-op missions offered by Daimyo and bigwigs.

But he could find nothing relating to Shikamaru being assigned a mission.

There has to be something here…

The Sarutobi frowned. He'd breezed over these reports two years ago when he'd first tried to unravel the mystery. What he was doing now was fine-combing the carbon-copy details he'd rushed through at the time.

I missed something…I know I missed something…

He'd never been able to shake the feeling that information had been doctored or omitted from the reports. At the time he'd chalked it up to desperation, grasping at any clue or possibility that would take the edge off feeling so damned useless.

If he'd had someone to blame it might have made it easier.

He'd even grilled the team that had accompanied Shikamaru at the time, but no one had been able to shed light on what had happened. No hour-by-hour account of exactly where Shikamaru had been at all times, but it wasn't like that was expected of Chūnin level shinobi.

The Tokubetsu Jōnin in charge hadn't appreciated the interrogation.

"You expected me to play babysitter to the kid? He didn't even want the damned promotion or the placement to begin with. The hell's your problem, Sarutobi? Empty nest syndrome? Get over it and get the fuck out of my face."

Not feeling heard, Asuma's fist had seen fit to do the talking after that.

And damn he'd had himself one hell of a non-verbal conversation.

The Tokujō had ended up in the hospital and Asuma had earned himself a hot seat that made him think the guy sucking food through a straw had got the better deal.

Tsunade had torn into him like a tigress.

She'd threatened suspension of duty, demotion and a psych-evaluation to boot. But worse than any of this, she'd pulled up enough painful reminders of his heritage to leave him bleeding at the roots of a lost sense of identity he'd never felt at peace with. He'd avoided his father's grave for the full week it had taken him to stop fuming and hurting behind his fierce grins and false smiles.

What made it all so pathetic was that he hadn't gained a damned thing.

No answers from between the bloody gaps in the Tokujō's teeth.

Asuma had been left to draw his own conclusions – which had taken him back to a blank drawing board with nothing but a nauseating gut-feeling. A feeling he couldn't shake but had no solid evidence to support.

Just a loose paper trail of faded-out copies.

But as Asuma engrossed himself in re-reading these carbon-copy reports, he began to pick up the threads of old doubts he'd left unravelled two years ago, feeling them knot into balls of suspicion that rolled around his gut like rocks.

"Shit…" he hissed through his teeth.

Rubbing at the back of his neck, he straightened up from his hunched position and sank down into the chair, scouring his palms across his face, blinking hard to squint and refocus on the faded-out script.

He heard Genma wander over from where the Tokujō had been propped against a cabinet, scribbling notes.

He only looked up when Genma's shadow fell across the table.

The senbon glowed like heated steel between the Shiranui's thin lips, reflecting in his dark eyes. His gaze drifted over the official papers and he regarded Asuma's research with an expression of jaded disinterest he tended to set on most things. But when his eyes hit on the carbon-copies scattered to the side of the table, he shook his head.

"What?" Asuma asked, leaping on the chance to have someone else help him make sense of this mess.

"I didn't see you down here," Genma said, his voice flat, face void of expression.

His impassiveness left Asuma to interpret those words any number of ways. They didn't exactly translate to "I've got your back" but at least they didn't suggest Genma was going to stick a knife in Asuma's unsuspecting spine.

The Sarutobi spread his hands, forcing a grin. "Ah, me, I'm just doing some homework."

Genma shrugged, tucked his notes under his arm and turned to leave.

Asuma sighed, dropping his hands along with the act. "Genma."

His tone stopped the Tokujō short.

But Genma made no move to turn around.

A tense moment ticked between them and Asuma thought it would end with Genma at the door. Instead, the Shiranui glanced over his shoulder. Seeing a very slim window of opportunity, Asuma didn't hesitate to spin the sheet beneath his palm, twisting it to face the other man. He tapped his fingers atop the text.

"You remember this?" Asuma asked.

Genma craned his neck and cocked his head, scanning the information. "Hn. Didn't see that either."

Asuma frowned, watching the other ninja from beneath his brows. "Genma."

The Tokujō shrugged, slotting his hands into his pockets. "You wanna end up on the knife's edge of a demotion again? Be my guest. I'm at peace with my position."

"And your conscience?" Asuma growled. "You at peace with that too?"

Genma stared at the door. He didn't turn, but he didn't walk away either. Asuma took that as a cue to continue and he glanced down at the list of Jōnin that had accompanied the Chūnin candidates that year.

"You were there in Kusagakure two years ago."

"So?"

"So?" Asuma echoed incredulously, leaning back to pluck a cigarette from his pants pocket, dangling it from his lips. "The reports – official and otherwise – all state that our Chūnin got involved in three side-ops running simultaneously in Kusagakure during those exams. That true?"

Genma turned around. "If it's in the official report, then it's true."

Asuma shot him a 'my ass' expression.

Genma didn't blink.

"So explain this." Asuma smacked the back of his hand across the 'official' report. "Some dumb shit who didn't even write down his last name states he participated in all three missions."

Genma's brows drew together in a brief pinch. "What?"

"Yeah," Asuma dug out his lighter and lit the end of his cigarette, eyes glinting like brass chips. "Now unless he was having fun with shadow clones, I don't see how in hell that's possible."

Genma stepped over to re-examine the report, using his senbon as a pointer, eyes following across the script. Asuma waited for him to finish, already prepared for what came next.

"That's not what this report says," Genma argued without modulating his voice, sounding just as bored as he had to begin with. "That Chūnin, Naoki, signed up for one mission. You've been down here too long. Go get some air. You read it wrong."

Asuma raised his eyebrows in challenge and tipped his head towards the faded-out carbon-copy sheets spread to one side. These were always attached to hand-written mission reports, serving as receipts kept in storage – and as backup just in case any reports went "missing".

"I didn't read these wrong," Asuma said on a breath of smoke, reaching across to tap the copies. "From what I can read of these, Naoki wrote out three separate reports detailing his involvement in each mission, but only one of them made it as his official statement. The statement you're reading now."

Despite his long pause, Genma's response was a short, "So?"

Asuma's eyes flashed. He shot to his feet with a growl, palms slamming onto the table, the legs of the metal chair screeching back across the linoleum.

"So it's bullshit!"

Genma's senbon flickered, darting side to side and up and down as his tongue manipulated the metal, like a needle on a Richter scale, measuring the turbulence in Asuma's voice.

"It's official."

"Official bullshit."

"No less official."

"Fuck that, Shiranui. It doesn't add up. Something's not right here."

Genma freed a hand from his pocket and pinched the edge of said 'official bullshit' report between forefinger and thumb, unwilling to leave even a fingerprint on this conspiracy. He held the paper up in Asuma's face.

"You see that big stamp, Sarutobi? The Hokage thinks otherwise."

Asuma smacked the paper aside with a slash of his hand. "I don't give a rat's ass what got the stamp of approval. And even putting that Naoki kid aside, I can't find a single mission report by Shikamaru. Carbon-copy or otherwise."

"Maybe he wasn't on any of those side-op missions."

"Then where was he?"

"Doing what he was supposed to do?" Genma returned, his half-mast gaze matching the bored drone of his words. "Watching the exams and taking mental notes in that photographic brain, instead of writing them down in a report like the rest of us."

"You've got proof he was there?"

"He signed the curfew sheet every morning, noon and night."

"With what? A tick? A nought and fucking cross?"

Genma's expression didn't change. "He signed it."

"Did you ever see him?" Asuma pushed, leaning across when Genma didn't answer, a dangerous edge biting into his voice. "Can you personally verify that he was there?"

Genma sucked on the thin metal, eyes hooded. He said nothing.

Asuma sneered. "Yeah, that's what I thought."

"Just because I didn't see him, doesn't mean he wasn't there."

"And yet not one of you bastards can tell me he was." Asuma crushed out his smoke against the table and took up the paper with the names of supervising Jōnin, fisting it in a crackle that sounded as electric as the tension in his voice. "Not one of you. And that makes two damn day's worth of time in which no one can confidently say where the hell he was."

Not a muscle twitched in Genma's face, but the senbon tipped down. "Did you ask him?"

"The hell do you think?"

Genma turned away from the lamplight and Asuma's inspection, dark hair framing his face in shadow. "I think you should let sleeping dogs lie."

"Oh some dogs are lying alright," Asuma snarled, eyes narrowing. "Never thought you'd be that kind of sonovabitch though."

Genma flicked his eyes up, the senbon following the movement, trained on Asuma's forehead. "Easy, Sarutobi."

"Yeah, that's how everyone likes it, right? Easy, clean, swept under the rug."

"You should know," Genma returned without bite, shrugging. "Or at least you used to. Back in the day when you didn't get involved in other people's personal trouble."

Asuma flinched. Even without the bite, the bluntness of that truth slammed straight into the root of his guilt, twisting it even deeper into his gut. He sucked air against the painful knot and shook his head.

"This is personal to me," he growled.

"It shouldn't be."

"They're my Team."

"Yeah, and if you go down this road, you'll lose them, your rank and your reputation." Genma paused here, like maybe he'd said too much. He kept a neutral expression, holding Asuma's gaze. "These paper trails are piss in the wind, Sarutobi. A dump of dead-ends. I'm advising you now to let this go."

From the look in Genma's eyes, it wasn't advice.

It was a warning.

Asuma's eyes widened and the air rushed out of his lungs. He felt shaken to the core, clammy and dizzy and on the verge of a dangerous reaction – until the shock took hold. It shot cold through his veins, paralysed his limbs.

The silence went on.

The cold sank deeper.

And the rage in his eyes chilled to a wounded look of betrayal.

"Shit," Asuma finally whispered, too gutted to be angry. "What the hell do you know about this, Genma?"

Genma drew a breath and leaned in, looking Asuma dead in the eye. "I know this conversation didn't happen. And if you care about that Nara kid, you'll let this go."

Asuma stared at Genma incomprehensively. "Did you know I'd come here?"

"I told you what I know."

"No, you haven't told me shit."

"But you told me enough."

"What?"

"Sorry, Asuma. I guess I hold my drink better than you do."

Asuma's eyes pinched. He searched the cool slate of the Shiranui's face for signs of the man he'd called his comrade – the man he'd called friend. He didn't know who the hell this stranger was, staring back at him through eyes that belonged behind an ANBU mask.

"Why?" he rasped.

Genma shook his head and for the first time, emotion registered in the barest tightening of his jaw. "I'm telling you, as your friend, to let this go."

Confusion poured through Asuma.

It left him aching and angry but too numb to act.

And Genma simply stood there, that damned senbon ticking from side to side like a clock hand counting seconds while time and silence marched dutifully along, letting go of moments to capture minutes.

Asuma knew all about letting go.

He'd done it all his life until he'd found the things worth holding onto.

And there's no way in hell I'm letting this go…I can't…

Asuma's jaw tightened, the brass hue of his eyes glittering with promise.

Not again.

Genma read the answer in Asuma's face. But the Shiranui didn't look surprised or disappointed. Rather, the Tokujō looked over Asuma's shoulder. He fixed his gaze on a large map pinned above a row of cabinets, one corner peeling off the wall along with the yellowed plaster. It charted the entire Land of Fire and all the lands beyond its borders.

"You're wasting your time, Asuma," Genma murmured.

"Get out," Asuma husked, pressing his hands to the table, bracing himself against the sensation of the world rocking beneath his feet. "Get the fuck outta here before I lose it."

"You'll have more to lose if you don't drop this."

"I'll fucking drop you."

Genma's senbon flew.

It shot past Asuma's cheek, grazed his ear and thudded into the wall behind him.

Asuma snapped his head up, eyes blazing. "Oh that tears it."

He upturned the table so fast and so violently it crashed into the wall and cracked down the centre. Papers sailed, boxes toppled and lamps rolled, beams of light tumbling across floor, glaring off metal cabinets.

Genma reached with both hands to pull his senbons.

Asuma only had one weapon to pull.

And he pulled it faster – with a hiss of screaming metal and a hum of glowing chakra.

The room flashed blue.

By the time the light banked, Asuma had his trench knife drawn horizontally between them. The force of his chakra spun wild along its jagged teeth, extending its reach until the glowing and serrated edge rested a twitch away from Genma's throat.

"You're gonna tell me why," Asuma snarled.

The Shiranui glanced down, his eyes shining blue in the light emanating from the weapon. Lips tight, he raised his chin in an attempt to escape chakra burn, not to be defiant. He didn't even taunt or threaten, just stood there.

Asuma's hand shook. "WHY!"

Genma said nothing, but something flickered across his eyes. It could've been the play of light or a play for time. Something small to keep Asuma guessing. A bluff before the bullshit.

Asuma wanted to believe it was something more.

Regret. Conflict. Hesitation.

But as Genma held his stare, he offered none of these things – just his throat.

In that second Asuma wanted to slit it. Wanted the truth to spill out in a bloody torrent, red and indelible and definite. Something real and concrete. Not the carbon-copy crap he'd been sifting through with desperation and growing dread.

God…how deep does this go?

Or worse than that - how high up? How corrupt or untouchable if Genma was willing to play 'good dog' for the sake of letting the sleeping ones lie.

"Tell me something," Asuma growled.

"I've got nothing to tell."

"Will you still feel that way with my chakra sawing through your throat?"

Genma sighed through his nose, never taking his eyes from Asuma's. "Who's to say? I sure won't be talking, will I?"

"Just screaming," Asuma threatened, his restraint so close to snapping that veins and sinew stood out like wires along his arms, trying to holding him back.

Genma glanced down at the glowing trench knife, then back up. "Do what you have to do."

"Why? Is that what you're doing?"

"Always."

Asuma's jaw shuddered and clenched, his anger warring with his reason. For just a moment he almost leaned in, for just a horrible and hurting moment, he almost let the razor edge of his chakra slit the Tokujō's throat.

FUCK!

Asuma's chakra cut out like a blown fuse.

He spun with a tortured roar, slamming his trench knife through the top of a cabinet to wedge in the cold steel rather than Genma's skull. Had his chakra still been flowing the weapon would've cut right through the metal, bisecting the cabinet like a knife through butter.

He wheeled back towards Genma, eyes fierce, voice shaking. "You stay the hell away from me until I'm done wanting to rip you apart."

Genma gazed for a long moment then turned towards the door. "You won't find any answers here, Asuma."

Asuma stared at Genma's back and felt like a knife was already lodged in his own. Bile crawled up his throat. Squeezing his eyes shut, he jammed shaking hands at his thighs and bowed his head, breathing hard through his nose.

Genma stopped by the door. "Some advice on where you should look from now on? Over your shoulder might be a good place to start."

Asuma's eyes shot open and his head came up, teeth bared.

But Genma was gone.

Just the echo of the Shiranui's words filled the empty doorway.

Bitter, betraying words.

A threat that weighed heavier and heavier on Asuma's head, boring down on him until it hit his gut. And the second it hit him there, the words began to change their meaning...changing it from a threat into something else entirely...something that had his expression crumbling from rage into realisation.

He drew a sharp breath, ignored Genma's warning and took the man's advice.

He looked over his shoulder, eyes rounding in shock.

Well shit.

There it was. The literal needle in the haystack.

Genma's senbon.

It winked at him from the wall, glowing like a thin beacon in the darkness, pointing the way. It had struck a location on the map…and it wasn't Kusagakure.

TBC.
- 13
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- 15
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