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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
- 2
- 3
- 4
ON THE CUSP

by Okami Rayne

Chapter Three

Shikamaru walked the path like a prisoner on a long road to a slow death. And Chōji walked right beside him with a bounce in his step, all that was missing was a heel-click and a random burst of song.

"Great," Shikamaru sighed and jammed one hand into the pockets of his black slacks, shooting Chōji a half-hearted glare. "You're really enjoying this…"

"More than," Chōji grinned, eyes crinkled with mirth. "I get to be in a position where I know exactly what's going on and you're clueless. It's awesome."

Shikamaru's lip kicked up at one corner. "Sure."

True, he may have been ignorant to Ino's scheming, but he wasn't clueless by a long shot.

Even now, halfway on the road to wherever this 'surprise' was supposed to be taking place, he already had a pretty good indication of what the options were narrowing down to. There were several places he'd pinned Ino's predictability on. Soon enough the possibilities would whittle down to one point.

Yeah, purgatory.

And he was sure the Gods were laughing. He just hoped that the hell from last year would win him some universal favours with the powers that be this time around.

I won't even get to sleep through this one…

With that in mind, his current lack of proper sleep was really starting to take its toll. Even if he wasn't someone who naturally enjoyed and craved sleep as much as he did, the fact remained that he needed it. He needed the mindless blackout for his damned sanity given the rate at which his brain churned.

I'm gonna do my time, then crawl into a bed…

Chōji chuckled again, indulging in his friend's private suffering as if reading Shikamaru's mind. "You're freaking out, aren't you?"

Shikamaru smirked, flexing his fingers to work some blood back into the numb digits. They were hooked around the strap of a drawstring bag slung over his shoulder, carrying the cargo of Ino's gifts. He hefted the weight of the baggage and felt one corner of a wrapped present dig into his spine.

"I'm committing this day to memory. Just so you know."

Chōji countered the dry comment with a grin. "You'll forgive me."

"Don't bet on it."

A petty scoreboard had drawn itself up in the shadow-nin's mind – embarrassingly close to the kind Ino kept on him and Chōji. However, rather than a game of "You Owe Me", Shikamaru had decided on a defensive counter. He'd begun keeping a tally on all the reasons why he'd have a valid excuse not to owe anyone a damn thing in the near future.

This game was called "I'll Remember This".

And just as he was about to enlighten his friend to the ground rules, a fierce shout ricocheted down the sidewalk in a pitch that grazed Shikamaru's brain like a shuriken skimming across the inside of his skull.

"SHIKAMARU!"

The shadow-nin paused, hearing the sharp crack of high-heeled sandals echoing off the stone. He glanced up and a flurry of purple drew his eye to the approaching figure wrapped in indigo and lilac. He kept his face a blank canvas despite the grunt of amusement that caught low in his throat.

What the hell is she doing?

Waving around a long ribbon of what looked like a scarf or obi sash, Ino streamlined her way towards them, the flaxen whip of her high ponytail lashing on the breeze. Shikamaru blinked, taking a moment to admire the fact that she could actually run in shoes probably designed for crippling women.

Torture and Interrogation could use those…

Ino hobbled the last few paces with a scowl.

"That was stupid," Shikamaru noted.

"Argh! I can't believe you!" Ino threw out a hand to Chōji's arm to steady herself, knees bent, balancing on one leg at a time to take the weight off each abused foot as she glared up from under her bangs at the shadow-nin. "I spent ages finding those and you treat them like hand-me-downs! Which they aren't because you've never worn them!"

Shikamaru glanced at her feet, frowning at the grooves the thin straps had cut into the skin across the high arch of her foot. "Am I supposed to know what the hell you're talking about?"

Ino snapped her fingers to draw his attention back up, wobbling on one leg. "Kiba. He's wearing your clothes."

"I know."

"The ones I picked out for you."

Shikamaru stared at her blankly, not sure whether opening his mouth was wise at this point. He silently assessed the look on her face. For some inane reason, unknown to the workings of his male mind, she was bringing this up for a purpose other than to be troublesome.

Rolling a shoulder, Shikamaru sighed, settling a straight-faced look on her.

Ino's mouth dropped open a little at his lack of response and she tightened her grip on Chōji's arm as she straightened up indignantly, her nails curling into the fabric of his sleeve a little too aggressively.

"Well fine, be a jerk." She snapped her foot back down with a sharp click of the heel. "No one values anything I get them anyway."

Shikamaru arched a brow at that.

Where the hell had that come from? Before he could let the question hook him into a deadlock with her, Chōji came between them in words.

"Almost thought you weren't gonna make it, Ino." Chōji nudged her lightly.

Ino took a moment to respond, her eyes sharp as razors on Shikamaru, looking to cut a guilty expression into the unconcerned canvas of his face. Then she blinked – and the fuse of glowing hurt in her eyes cut out in an instant, replaced by a softer spark as she snapped back from her irritation with a slow smile.

"Oh come on." Ino waved a hand airily, batting away the tension. "Like I'd let him figure it out."

Shikamaru squinted in confusion, thrown by this dramatic pendulum swing. He searched her face uncertainly for a moment before taking the easy route and accepting the exit offered.

"Figure it out?" he echoed, hopping onto the topic-shift.

Ino smiled a saccharine grin, the kind Shikamaru knew well enough to have him backing up a pace as she waved around the long purple sash in her hand. She wrapped the ends around her fists, pulling the fabric taut in a threatening snap.

"You owe me."

Shikamaru levelled a dubious glare on the sash in her hands. Ino arched a winged brow, lips parted and tongue poised at the tip of an argument she'd no doubt win. He heard the challenge in the silence. She was daring him to give her an excuse to list-off all the reasons just why he owed her. All the little events she'd been gathering like precious little shuriken, sharp and sure and ready to let fly.

Shit.

Shikamaru resigned himself by slotting one hand back into his pocket, slouching away from her with a sigh. "Whatever."

The second he closed his eyes, his guard dropped.

In that same second, Ino pounced.

Instinctively, Neji knew where to look.

Intuition guided him to a place he hadn't visited in months.

She will be here…

The sinuous lines of the pathway turned in smooth but controlled curves throughout the meditative gardens of the Hyūga residence. Neji glided along the pale stone with the same slow, effortless grace as the highbred koi fish, a rainbow school of pureblood carp that circled the shallow and serene ponds in figure eights.

Some of these fish were older than the most seasoned Hyūga elders.

In these gardens, time felt less temporal and transient than it did within the cold, high walls of the Hyūga compound and the busy village beyond its walls. Even the path Neji walked suffered few cracks, lightly scuffed by the sweep of sandaled feet.

He'd walked it barefoot as a child; trying to find the imprints of his father's footsteps.

A dull ache pulled across his chest.

The irony wasn't lost on him, but it felt less bitter than it had two weeks ago. The ghost he'd chased after as a child served as a stern warning now. He would not walk his father's path. He'd tread on hot coals, walk wires and traipse trails littered with thorns before he pressed the soles of his feet into the ghost of Hizashi's shoes.

I will find the freedom you yearned for…but I will do it my way…

Neji blinked slowly, breathing deep against the sorrow that had finally subsided from a sharp, abrasive hurt into a dulled and heavy sadness held deep in his chest. It's where he kept and guarded the memory of his father, precious and private and beyond the reach of the rage that had once tainted it.

Now it was a lonely ache of loss, but one he'd rather have felt than denied.

Neji raised a hand, fingertips skimming the hitai-ate across his brow.

His father's headband, the only thing he'd rescued at 4 AM fourteen years ago.

Hizashi had left little behind.

Just me…

The hollow tap of a bamboo dripper drew Neji's gaze back from the past and across to one of the many stone water basins stationed along the path. Large stone lanterns stood like age-old sentinels, guarding the pavilion up ahead. It was surrounded by a bamboo grove and Neji wove between the thick, durable culms like a lion between yellowed cage bars.

He didn't need his Byakugan to locate who he was looking for.

She'd probably sensed him already.

Exhaling a quiet sigh, Neji stepped up onto the porch of the pavilion, shifting his weight to keep the old wood from creaking as he approached the shoji door, pressing his palm flat to the panel.

He let a pause signal his presence before sliding it back.

Lavender eyes turned up towards him through the fall of long blue-black strands.

Neji's jaw tensed. He remained standing at the threshold, afternoon sunlight filtering over his shoulder, turning motes of dust to silver and gold sparks that drifted idly in the old room like tiny fireflies.

"I didn't know where to go…" the kunoichi whispered quietly, lowering her eyes to her hands, folded neatly atop her lap. "It's quiet here."

She knelt formally in the empty room, in counsel with her conscience. She wasn't the only one. Neji's conscience was already turning about the situation in uncomfortable circles.

How am I supposed to protect both of you…and from each other?

Neji let out a long breath through his nose. "Hinata-sama…"

"I did it…" Hinata's fingers twisted and twined on her lap, then settled rigidly into a tight grip. "I finally…I held it together…"

Neji remained silent, watching the nervous, conflicted fidgeting, concern pinching the very corners of his eyes as his focus settled on her hands. They were thinly bandaged, the skin at the backs of her fingers raw from chakra burn.

"I don't ever want to do it again."

He had suspected such words from her, but the tone in which they were delivered trembled in a bitter, shaking whisper. He stepped out of his sandals and stepped into the room. Hinata kept her eyes on her hands; it was only when Neji crouched down in front of her that she raised her palms to cup her eyes.

"No," Neji said.

She corrected herself quickly, looping strands of black behind her ears instead. But her chin remained several notches below the mark Neji had instructed her to hold it at.

"Raise your head, Hinata-sama."

"She is my sister…" Hinata breathed the words out furtively, as if the information were forbidden and the sentiment frowned upon. "I didn't mean to hurt her...I just...she wouldn't stop…"

"Raise your head," Neji echoed tonelessly.

Hinata's fingers clenched into fists, the heels of her hands pressed hard against her thighs, elbows locked and arms tense enough to snap. "I hurt her…"

"Raise your head."

She did. Her chin came up as quickly as her eyes, lavender-hued pools brimming with hurt and shame. "I hurt her and they were proud…"

Neji drew his shoulders back, holding them rigid. The muscles at the hinge of his jaw bunched in a quick flex as he controlled his expression. "I know."

Hinata flinched, wounded by his curt reply. "You said I needed the will to p-protect people…"

"Sibling rivalry is inevitable in our clan. The will to protect has nothing to do with it." He paused here, pushing back the ghost of his father's image as it flickered in his mind' s eye before guttering out like a dead flame. "It is about the will to survive. You must accept this. Hanabi accepted it years ago."

"But I can't."

"You'll have to."

Hinata shook her head, her eyes firing up with a rare flash of conviction and unshakeable determination. "I want to change it."

Neji pressed his lips to smother a grim smile.

Naruto's lasting impression…

And with the thought of lasting impressions, came the memory of one carved raw into the tender muscle of his heart. A beat later it hit his head, Shikamaru's words drawling out in a rough murmur in his memories.

"Your 'lasting' impression. More like a parting gift at this point."

"I will change it, Neji…" Hinata whispered.

Neji's eyes hardened from their momentary glaze, his focus swinging back onto his cousin as he slammed a mental door on the memory, finding his voice after swallowing hard.

"You are not in the position to change anything," Neji reminded, his voice gaining an edge to cut through her reluctance to listen. "When you are in the position to defy the elders, then you can seek to bring about these changes, until then your hands are tied. Accept it."

"You didn't," she whispered.

Neji blinked, pulling his head back a fraction.

Hinata resolutely held his stare.

Neji didn't answer for a long moment and the silence betrayed the tension he managed to keep from his guarded face. He smoothed his voice to the same neutral stillness.

"That is entirely different, Hinata-sama."

Hinata smiled weakly. It was the kind of sad, wry smile she'd settled on him during the Chūnin exams. The kind she wore when she appealed to one of her greatest strengths – her empathy. Unfortunately, Neji had no use for a strength that would expose a weakness and right now he needed her to be strong.

"Understand this," Neji warned, leaning in without aggression. "You hold the keys to the cage of our clan's destructive traditions. You are the Branch House's hope."

"But you are—"

"No," he cut her off with a stern look. "I am nothing more than a paper tiger in this clan. You cannot afford to take the same risks that I do."

"It's more than taking risks," Hinata challenged without raising her voice or changing her tone, watching him with that earnest concern that filled her eyes with sincerity so severe he had to look away for a moment. "Hitaro-sama and our grandfather…they're watching you and—"

"You do not need to worry about me," Neji interjected flatly. "I know what I'm doing."

Hinata's response was more effective than any words could have been. She simply tracked her gaze to his chest, her eyes lingering meaningfully on key nodes in his tenketsu before she glanced back up again.

Her subtle point didn't stop it from being sharp.

Neji sucked in a tight breath. "Regardless of whatever I may have done in the past, it doesn't change what I must do now. Or what you must do."

Hinata regarded him quietly, a mix of childlike fragility and budding strength warring over her face. "And what must I do?"

Neji's lips framed a sad smile, a strange, almost reflective opacity touching his eyes as he breathed out his reply. "Whatever is necessary."

"How exactly is this necessary?"

"It is, be quiet."

"I'll remember this…" Shikamaru growled, his face pinching in discomfort as he squinted beneath the sash banded across his eyes. "Troublesome."

"I can't believe you're still wearing black," Ino scolded, turning a circle around him to tug the edges of the fabric down firmly over the bridge of his nose. "This sash is the only colour on you."

"It's bright purple," Shikamaru growled.

Chōji chuckled. "And it's shiny."

Shikamaru smacked Ino's hands away, scowling at the scratch of the wiry, glittery fibres threaded into the weave, prickling against his lashes and eyelids. He hooked his thumbs under the hem to loosen its cinch around his head.

A palm clipped his shoulder in a slap. "Stop peeking!"

"Are you joking?" Shikamaru turned in the direction of Ino's voice, stabbing a finger to the blindfold banded around his skull. "You wrapped this stupid thing around my head three times. I can't see a damn thing."

"That's gotta be true." Chōji's hand clamped on the shadow-nin's shoulder and turned him a few degrees to his left until he was facing Ino. "There you go, buddy."

Shikamaru turned his head back towards Chōji, his expression inscrutable beneath the sash –not that he needed a half-masked scowl to translate how unimpressed he was with the entire situation and his best friend's part in it. Again.

"It almost suits you, Shika," Chōji laughed.

Shikamaru bristled like a cactus, the spiky ends of his hair shuddering as he prickled at the abbreviation of his name. "Seriously, don't call me that."

Ino giggled, crooning in Shikamaru's ear. "Aww, is the grumpy, zombie-eyed Shikamaru blushing under there? Red goes well with purple."

"Don't even try it. You both cut team and I'm gonna remember it."

He heard Chōji heft the bag he'd taken off the shadow-nin. "Uh, we're all part of the same team."

"I'm starting my own team and neither of you are in it."

"Oh relax, slacker. Okay, Chōji!" A loud smack signalled Ino clapping her hands. "Spin him!"

Shikamaru turned his head sharply. "Wait. What?"

"Just go with the flow!" Ino encouraged.

Shikamaru didn't have a chance to fight the flow before it hit him. Chōji whacked a hand onto his shoulder and twirled him on the spot like a spinning top.

"Hey!" Shikamaru threw his arms out to steady himself, staggering sideways into Ino.

The kunoichi huffed in annoyance, grabbed the ends of the sash wrapped around his head and didn't give him a chance to catch his balance. She turned him around a few more times like a dog on a lead.

"Keep spinning!"

Like he really had a choice.

Surrendering to the stupidity of the moment, Shikamaru sighed and allowed her to rotate him a few more times, each turn getting faster and faster until he couldn't distinguish one loop from another. And to his sudden surprise, the dizzying sensation of losing all sense of direction and equilibrium felt unexpectedly…good.

Very good.

Even his headache gave up the game because it momentarily stopped pounding, leaving his mind semi-weightless.

Perspective vanished.

For a crazy, uncontrolled moment, the thoughts stopped cramming in his skull and washed out into a fuzzy blur he had no hope of focusing on. Everything became an indistinct, unintelligible rush without an anchor to ground him or a thread of stability to latch onto.

And in this harmless kid's-play spin, his immaculate grip on his thoughts slipped.

And that's when it happened.

Sudden, inexplicable fear reared up inside him.

It kicked his gut so hard that bile hit the back of his throat.

Fuck…

"Knock it off!" he growled suddenly, throwing his arms out to push Ino away, almost landing on his ass in the process.

A large hand gripped his shoulder, holding him steady even as the black void continued to spin around his skull, feeling like the world he couldn't see was still rotating in a vicious orbit as he swayed blindly on the spot.

Ino snickered. "So, any idea which way you're facing?"

"Am I even standing up?" Shikamaru grumbled shakily, gripping his head to keep his focus on his brain rather than the unexpected boom of his heart, adrenaline subsiding along with the fear as he came back to his senses.

Luckily, neither Chōji nor Ino picked up on anything.

Because there's nothing to pick up on. Settle down, get a grip, idiot.

Shikamaru curbed the adrenaline jittering through his limbs by channelling it into irritation, scratching at the high ridge of his cheek, focusing on the chafing itch of the material banded across his eyes.

"Now you're set for the surprise." Ino pressed her hands to his back, shoving him in a direction he couldn't name, the sharp rap of her heels drilling into his head. "Have fun guessing."

Shikamaru snorted, more concerned with putting one foot in front of the other and not falling flat on his face. "Now I'm not sure I wanna know."

He had a feeling Ino and Chōji were exchanging glances, maybe even high-fiving. Unable to fight the urge to smile, Shikamaru sighed, slouching back into the push of the troublesome hands steering him along the road – exerting minimal effort.

Ino tugged the sash around his head. "Lazy."

"I'm relaxing while I can."

"Good plan, genius," Ino said with mock warning, shoving him hard onto Chōji who took over steering their blindfolded friend. "Chōji's supposed to be dragging you, not me."

Not possessing the energy to fight the inevitable, Shikamaru stuck his hands in his pockets and trusted Chōji not to walk him into a lamppost.

Hn. Go with the flow…

A black cat crossed Asuma's path.

While he'd never been prone to superstition, he couldn't help but pause and take stock when Kakashi's ninken loped past him, wandering after the feline without chasing it. The dog's stalk was lazy, it's head ducked down, ears forward and its thin tail waving around like an antenna looking for a signal.

And then the dog tuned into something more interesting.

It drew up short to scent the air and glance across the street. Asuma followed the animal's gaze over to the two Jōnin standing just outside one of the Shogi Houses.

Perfect.

His lips cut up in a smirk around his cigarette.

Kakashi leaned to one side, shoulder propped against one of the paint-flecked pillars supporting the awning of the porch. The copy-nin's gaze had settled just to the side of the green-clad ninja gesticulating at him with gusto, pontificating prose about honourable rivalry and the perennial spirit of Youth.

Kakashi nodded listlessly, his visible eye drooped in a pained kind of patience.

Asuma chuckled quietly, walking over to the ninken to scratch the sharp triangle of its ear. The dog leaned into the attention with a pleased squint, thumping it's tail. Kakashi turned his head a little at the movement and the lazy grey of his iris slid sharply to the corner of his eye, locking onto Asuma.

The Sarutobi winked.

Kakashi's eye remained as deadpan as could be. Then the masked-nin raised the side of his palm to his temple in greeting, effectively knocking Gai's attention onto Asuma.

"Asuma!" Gai beamed, swivelling dramatically to flick a thumb's up. "I've thrown down the gauntlet at my rival's feet! And it's all thanks to you, my wily adviser!"

Asuma's eyes widened.

Kakashi lowered his hand, his visible eyebrow sketching upward oh-so-slowly.

"Oh? All thanks to you, is it?" The silver-haired Jōnin queried, voice lazy and gaze fierce.

"A shogi game seemed like a good idea," Asuma defended with open palms, waving a hand towards the poster still pinned to the glass. "You might even get some money out of it."

Kakashi cocked his head, the wild shock of silver-hair canting even more to one side. "Because I'm sure you were thinking of my good fortune when you suggested it."

Asuma bit down hard on his cigarette to keep from grinning. "Of course I was."

"Of course," Kakashi drawled, his easy tones lilted with that airy, musical timbre that always contained a knife's edge of sarcasm.

Asuma smirked, cocked a leg and gave a mocking half bow.

Kakashi rolled his eye, but the corner crinkled a little in amusement.

Fortunately, their shared sense of humour had solidified an understated and easy friendship between them, one that had held strong since the first time they'd met. It had also helped keep things steady when the rivalry between Sakura and Ino had been at its most contentious.

Gai, oblivious to their subtle repartee, sliced his palm flat across the air as if rolling out a scroll for Kakashi to sign in blood. "What do you say, Kakashi? Are you up for the challenge?"

"Of course he is," Asuma assured, still scratching the ninken's ear. "Just look at his face, he's thrilled."

Kakashi's expression flattened to a slit-eyed stare.

Gai leaned in, examining his rival's lidded eye with a pout of suspicion.

Asuma chuckled, smoke curling from the corners of his mouth to exaggerate the stretch of his grin. "That's his poker face, just watch out for it during the game."

"Of course! Always so hip and cool!" Gai clapped Kakashi hard on the back.

Kakashi rolled his shoulder with a grunt.

Asuma laughed, the rumble of amusement earning him a sedate glare from the copy-nin as Kakashi shook his head. Taking pity on the Hatake, Asuma feigned a look of sudden remembrance.

"By the way." He turned to Gai. "I think Hyūga's back from that mission in Hanegakure."

"He is?" Gai switched gears in an instant, thick brows jumping up like excited caterpillars. "Of course he is. That's the timely manner of my excellent student. Duty calls, gentlemen!"

Gai's predictability had Asuma puffing out his chest to contain a laugh. Kakashi was less amused, his exasperation betraying itself in a twitch of his eye when the green-clad Jōnin smacked a copy of the competition leaflet to his chest.

"No need to pencil it in! The date's indelible, my friend. Name the time and we'll battle it out 'til our brains sweat!" Gai roared with competitive gumption.

Kakashi looked at him without comment and with possible concern – as if seriously considering the chance that Gai's Youthful Spirit was just a smokescreen for a psychological condition that was probably hard to pronounce.

Asuma smacked his lips to keep from laughing again.

"He'll be there," he assured. "Kakashi never backs out."

"As expected of my rival." Gai grinned with that freaky flash of enamel before he proceeded to leap across the street, startling villagers as he launched his way to the rooftops via handstand springs and impressive acrobatics that looked so exhausting Asuma had to light up another cigarette.

"Your work's done for the day, I take it?" Kakashi sighed with exaggerated pique, crumpling the competition leaflet in his palm.

Asuma pulled in the tobacco like fresh air, sighing with content satisfaction at the mess he'd landed the copy-nin in. "My best day got better. Thanks."

Kakashi watched him quietly through his droopy lid, lazily rubbing his knuckles along his ninken's head as the dog trotted over and sat at his feet. "Best?"

Asuma nodded, watching as Kakashi balanced the scrunched-up paper on his ninja hound's nose. The dog knocked it back into the copy-nin's palm, repeating the process like ball game when Kakashi bounced it back again.

"I take it that means you decided on what you're going to do?" Kakashi asked casually, looking disinterested, his attention on the dog, but Asuma had learned enough to know that Kakashi didn't ask questions he didn't care to know the answers to.

For a long moment, Asuma watched the crumpled paper flick back and forth.

"I did," he said at length. "I have."

Kakashi caught the crumpled ball in his palm, holding it for a beat. "And?"

Asuma plucked his cigarette from his lips, crushing it out against the adjacent pillar with a warm, almost disbelieving smile. "This is the chance I never thought I'd get, Kakashi."

Kakashi watched him with detached curiosity, the dark grey of his eye as sharp as the red one hidden beneath his hitai-ate. "You're going to take it."

"With both hands."

"Good."

"Yeah, though it freaks me out how you knew before I did."

Kakashi blinked innocently, his head tilting. "Did I?"

"Yeah, both at the start and at the finish, you smug bastard."

"Well…" Kakashi's eye curved a little, the fabric of his mask hinting at the chisel of a smile as he hummed. "It's the simple math of life, Asuma."

Asuma chuckled, arching his brows. "Simple, huh? Is that why you're lost on Life's path or whatever you say?"

Kakashi glanced off to the side as if mulling the words over. Then he cut short his ball game, tossed the paper up and caught it in a tight fist, crushing the ruined leaflet into an even smaller knot.

With a flick of his wrist, it sailed through the air and dropped into a nearby trashcan with a tinny echo.

"Aren't we all?" the masked-nin murmured.

Kakashi's ninken cocked its head up at him, its soulful eyes fixed on the silver-haired shinobi with a look so close to concern it surprised Asuma.

Odd…

The Sarutobi frowned, glancing between master and mutt for any hint of what the dog was picking up on. Before he could call the copy-nin up on it, Kakashi turned his head with a jovial hum. His pewter eye brightened with that peculiar cheer that Asuma always thought happened a little too quickly for it to be anything other than just another of the copy-nin's practiced masks.

"Speaking of life," Kakashi began, making sure he had redirected Asuma's attention, "If Naruto's increased hyperactivity is anything to go by, I'm sure you have a couple of birthdays to celebrate today."

"Where the hell does the time go?" His words betrayed no overt sentiment for his students, but he knew it carried in his voice either way.

Kakashi watched him, the half-moon crescent of his eye softening a little. "One can forget how young they are."

Asuma frowned a little, not wanting to think about that. "Well, one thing hasn't changed. They're still a pricey pack, especially Ino and Chōji."

"You were the one who decided on the foolhardy tactic of "rewarding them gets results"."

Asuma snorted, wondering why and how he'd ever decided that would be a brilliant idea. Kakashi's silence positively rang with 'I-told-you-so".

Conceding the point, he shot the copy-nin a sideways glance. "Alright then smartass, what do you use to pull rank with your lot? Porn?"

Kakashi tipped his head in mock consideration. "Well, best never to rule out a dramatic, shock tactic. Though I have Chidori for that."

"Yeah, and as a result your hair is a dramatic, shock tactic." Asuma glanced at the silvery, standing-on-end strands. "I think the static from all the lightning has done some damage."

Kakashi smiled beneath the mask, genuine laughter brightening his eye. "Says the man who's growing a bush on his face. Does Kurenai prune it for you? How romantic."

Asuma flushed then laughed hoarsely, rolling his eyes as he scratched at his jaw. "Right. Hair growth aside, I've lost all credibility as an intimidating sensei."

Kakashi patted his Jōnin vest without expression. "My heart bleeds for you, Asuma."

"Well thanks for the support," Asuma drawled.

"You don't need it."

Asuma shrugged, examining the end of his cigarette before his eyes slid to the poster on the window. "I might need that cash prize by the end of the day."

"Yeah." Kakashi's mask puffed with a breathy chuckle. "Too bad you suck at Shogi."

The fact that Shikamaru hadn't seen it coming had little to do with the blindfold.

The second Chōji stopped steering him and hit the breaks on their little journey the shadow-nin braced himself for whatever was coming next. But when Ino's fingers hooked into the sash, loosening the knot and unwinding the material from around his head, he had a feeling he'd miscalculated her predictability.

It's too quiet…

Except for the babble and bubble of what sounded like water.

The air felt humid.

The Hot Springs?

When the fabric fell away from his face he scrunched his nose against the lingering tickle and then cracked his eyes open.

They flew wide in surprise.

"Ta da!" Ino swept her arm towards the ornate, latticed entrance to one of Konoha's most expensive ryokans.

'HOTARU'

Meaning 'firefly', the name of the luxury inn was accentuated by tiny little bulbs that twinkled delicately in the trees planted outside the entrance. The courtyard was filled with blood red Japanese maples and their sharp, star-like leaves rustled in welcome, scarlet bodies shivering in the breeze.

Shikamaru stared, unable to process a response as he dissected all the reasons why 1) Ino would have selected this place 2) how the hell she could afford it and 3) why he felt uncomfortable at the thought that she'd done it out of consideration for his crappy mood over the past two weeks.

Ino angled her head around his shoulder, grinning. "Well?"

The shadow-nin blinked once, then again, slower. "A ryokan."

"A luxury ryokan," Ino amended, her grin turning a little crooked, almost uncertain.

Shikamaru looked across at her. "Why?"

"I told you. You needed some birthday spoiling."

"But this is—"

"Quiet, peaceful, relaxing, boring," Ino enumerated on her fingers, sighing dramatically as she hung off his arm like a tortured soul. "However will you handle this year's torture?"

Shikamaru smiled a little, shrugging her off. "More like however will you handle it?"

Ino scoffed, waving a hand and using the same motion to drape the sash around her neck. "I guess I'll just get my ungrateful friend to book me in for a massage or spar session, because arranging this was soooo stressful and all."

Shikamaru smirked, having suspected as much. "Right."

Chōji chuckled, herding both of them with a light push. "Come on, I'm starving. I wasn't lying about the good food."

"Oh yeah? How do you know?"

"Ino had me approve the menu."

Shikamaru chuckled quietly. "Figures."

Stepping inside the entrance, they were immediately received by a group of elegantly dressed women, wrapped in silks of purple and red. One was noticeably older than the others. The manager, Shikamaru assumed. The greeting was a courteous bow, but there was something relaxed about the formality.

"Ino-chan, Ino-chan," the old woman greeted, taking Ino's hand with familiarity and fondness, squeezing the kunoichi's fingers. "Thank you so much."

Ino blinked quickly, her blue eyes tensing before she gave a high little laugh that both Chōji and Shikamaru recognised as the nervous prelude to her forced airs and graces. The shadow-nin arched a brow, suddenly a little more suspicious as to what Ino had done to win such high favour with the old woman. Favour that he soon learned included three superior tatami suites and catered meals with enough courses to have Chōji starry-eyed with anticipation. Added to this special treatment was the news that the ryokan had fully catered for a list of guests that Ino had drawn up earlier in the week.

How the hell did she pull this off?

As two attendants led him and Chōji into the lobby area, Shikamaru did a quick scan of the elegant, traditional furnishings. The interior design prided itself on mahogany colours with rich ebonies, deep reds and hints of royal purple that created a molasses-like sunset feel, which would deepen mysteriously and magnetically in the evening.

"Pretty amazing, huh?" Chōji said, taking it in with a smile. "She went all out."

Shikamaru tipped his head.

No kidding…

Interspersed with the rich feel of lavishness were the subtle, delicate hints of fireflies scattered about, whether in symbols, paintings, tiny glass and mosaic pieces that caught the light or intricate carvings in the wood.

Hn. Shiny.

There was no doubt about the luxury of the place or the excellent quality of service. No sooner had Shikamaru taken a seat than tea was being poured and sweets served up.

It was awkward only because it was foreign.

The attendants were friendly enough to indicate that there was no pressure to adhere to the etiquette the place demanded. Shikamaru wasn't sure whether that was Ino tipping the scales in their favour or whether the staff were always this obliging to guests.

Weird.

"Thank you." He inclined his head to the attendant and looked across at Chōji, lowering his voice. "How the hell can she afford this?"

Chōji shrugged, smiling as he reached for a dumpling stick. "We all chipped in."

Shikamaru arched a brow. "Even if you did, it's not enough to cover the kind of accommodation she's booked up in this place."

"Jeez would you relax?" Chōji sighed, frowning a little. "Don't look a gift horse in the mouth, you know?"

Shikamaru leaned back a little, chastened by the look on Chōji's face. "That's not what I'm doing. I just don't see how—"

"Oh quit trying to figure things out," Ino's voice whistled across his head as she leaned over to steal a star-shaped sweet off his plate, popping it into her mouth. "Relax, lazybones."

Shikamaru hooked his thumb around the small tea cup, but made no move to take a sip, his eyes scanning around again as Ino flopped down onto one of the large zabuton cushions. Koto music drifted in the background, the delicate strings plucking out traditional melodies to soothe and soften the atmosphere.

"Wait until you see the rooms," Ino began, tugging off her shoes. "If you can't sleep here, Shikamaru, you won't sleep anywhere ever again. The views are so pretty."

"Pretty…" Shikamaru echoed dryly.

"Well they are," Ino insisted. "They look out onto the gardens and they have the best beds. Futons like clouds. You'll sleep like a baby."

The shadow-nin hesitated then glanced back at her. "You know that old lady?"

Ino examined the red welts her sandal straps had sawed into her feet, ignoring the question. "I can't wait to soak in the onsen." She looked up quickly, flicking her hair back. "Don't freak out Shikamaru, they have private open-aired baths in the rooms too."

Torn between her neat evasion and her unrelated statement, Shikamaru frowned. Chōji beat him to a question he wasn't going to ask and had hoped neither of his teammates would bother with.

"Why would you freak out in an onsen?" the Akimichi asked, chomping on a dumpling.

Shikamaru's chest took a dent as he pulled in a silent but sharp breath.

He glanced away, shrugging. "She's just talking crap."

Ino snorted and looked at both of them as if they were dense. "Uh, hello? You tell me, Chōji. When was the last time Shikamaru stepped into an onsen?"

Chōji tilted his head to one side, pausing mid-chew. "Oh hey, that's a good point. It's been ages. And you used to like going too."

"Yeah, so what happened?" Ino asked, scanning the sweets.

"Nothing happened," Shikamaru replied offhandedly.

He kept his gaze fixed across the room, pretending to admire the garden views through the open shoji doors. His refusal to acknowledge the topic or Ino's curious look was misread as embarrassment.

"Aww." Ino snickered. "I didn't know you were so shy, Shikamaru."

Shyness had nothing to do with it.

Shikamaru's jaw tightened imperceptibly, discomfort churning in the pit of his stomach like a viper. He took a quick sip of the tea, not bothering to cool it with a breath as he swallowed it down, letting it scald along his tongue and down his throat to distract from the nausea in his gut.

"You invited the others here too?" he croaked, swallowing to soothe the burn.

Ino nodded, massaging her foot with a wince. "For the meal, all relaxed and chummy. It's a fifteen course dinner." She shot him a look. "You better be hungry."

Shikamaru was pretty sure he'd lost his appetite altogether.

Get over it, stop acting like a kid.

The shadow-nin set his chin in his palm, elbow pressed to the table as he managed a lopsided smile. "Well I didn't get fed this morning thanks to you."

Ino stuck her tongue out. "Your mom is great. I'll say it again, shall I? I think she loves me and Chōji more than you."

"I think you're right," Shikamaru replied, almost serious but for the amusement in his eyes. "She almost decapitated me today."

Chōji laughed. "That was pretty hilarious despite being scary. No offense."

Shikamaru waved away the comment. "If this place has a bed like a cloud, you're almost forgiven."

"Does that mean you like it here?" Ino fished, watching him through her lashes. She made a face. "Not that you'd ever say it."

Shikamaru shrugged, but his lazy smile said what he wouldn't. It was enough for Ino and she went back to cooing at her abused feet, promising them a pedicure and loving treatment after the upcoming abuse of more shoe torture.

Shikamaru and Chōji exchanged bemused glances.

They didn't have time to poke fun at her before an attendant approached them, bowing with a smile. "We're ready now."

Ino twisted in her seat quickly. "Do you know if erm…the packages arrived okay?"

The attendant looked confused.

Shikamaru quirked a brow, setting his teacup down before it reached his mouth. "What packages?"

Chōji froze, coughed, panicked and shoved Shikamaru out of his seat.

"Chōji!"

Distracted, Shikamaru didn't notice Ino making some weird gesture to the baffled attendant, who must have made sense of whatever the blonde was miming because she gave a little chuckle and a quick nod.

Shikamaru smacked a palm onto the table and glared at Chōji over the low edge. "What the hell was that?"

The Akimichi winced. "Sorry, reflex."

"Reflex my ass," Shikamaru snapped, grabbing the edge and pulling himself back into his seat with a growl.

He didn't get a chance to settle before Ino was looping arms with him and pulling him back up. "Oh quit whining, it was a birthday punch. Don't guys do that?"

"I would never punch Shikamaru," Chōji growled, offended by the thought.

"I'd punch you."

Chōji showed just how unconvinced he was by smiling. "I'd never seriously hurt you, you know that."

Shikamaru's jaw dropped open a little. "No, but you'll shove me out my chair, laugh at my expense and conspire against me with this one," he flicked Ino on the head, effectively freeing his arm but earning himself a punch from her. "Ugh. Troublesome."

Ino gave a smug grin then skipped on ahead, pausing to pull on her shoes in little hops across the floor. "Hurry up you two!"

Shikamaru buried his face into his palm. "I don't have the energy for this."

Chōji patted him on the back, steering him after the Yamanaka. "Hey, come on. She's trying to make this special."

Shikamaru pinched the bridge of his nose, the tips of his fingers digging in hard. "I never asked her to."

"Well yeah, you didn't have to. Isn't that the point?"

Shikamaru hesitated at that, looking across at his friend through the slots in his fingers before he dropped his hand away, sliding it into his pocket. "Yeah."

Chōji smiled, dark eyes earnest with a concern Shikamaru pretended not to notice. "We want you to have a good time. You've been all tired lately. Your brain is working overtime and it's like…I don't know, Shikamaru…it's like you didn't stop after the mission in Hanegakure ended."

Shikamaru immediately stopped walking.

Chōji stopped right beside him, resolute.

Dammit.

The shadow-nin turned on his heel and levelled his friend with a steady gaze, setting his free hand on the Akimichi's shoulder with a firm flex of his fingers. "Don't get all paranoid on me, alright?"

Chōji's brows tugged together sharply. "Shikamaru."

Shikamaru let his lip curve in a lazy mimic of his usual smirk. "I'm fine. Seriously, it's the lack of sleep. I just need a few straight hours of blackout. Hell, you have my permission to punch my lights out by the end of the night, alright?"

Chōji frowned again. "Yeah right."

Shikamaru's smirk softened into a smile. "It's my birthday, so apparently it's expected and it's allowed."

Thankfully, the humour vanquished the tension and there was only the barest falter in Chōji's face before this cheeks dimpled in a grin. "Not like Ino needs an excuse to hit you though."

Shikamaru rolled his eyes with a groan, lazing back into a walk, following after the troublesome Yamanaka as she ran on ahead, slipped into a room further along the broad corridor and slotted the door shut.

Shikamaru arched a brow. "What's the rush?"

Chōji followed behind, chuckling in a foretelling kind of way. "Freaking out yet?"

Shikamaru crossed the tatami flooring with a drag of his feet, glancing over his shoulder as he reached for the sliding door Ino had vanished behind. "Oh great, is that a head's up?"

The door whipped aside without warning.

Shikamaru caught himself against the frame only to be smacked in the face by a party horn that unravelled like a snake's tongue, feathering against his forehead with a noisy trumpeting that sounded like someone blowing their nose.

"SURPRISE!"

The chorus of rowdy cheers was punctuated by another smack in the forehead as Naruto blew out the party horn again, hitting Shikamaru straight on the bull's-eye of the small line furrowed into his brow. The paper tongue curled back in a snap, the mouthpiece pinched between Naruto's teeth as he grinned.

"Happy Birthday!" he muffled around the noisemaker.

"Don't expect special treatment!" Kiba shouted across the room. "I'm just here for the food!"

"Kiba-kun!" Hinata gasped, feeling his shame for him.

Shikamaru barely registered the teasing words flitting about. His attention had abruptly fixed itself onto the ridiculous thing Naruto was wearing on his head.

"Is there a reason you're wearing a road cone?"

Naruto laughed loudly and his whiskered cheeks warmed with good-humoured embarrassment before he jerked his thumb over his shoulder towards the large table.

"Ino kinda insisted."

Shikamaru flicked a glance towards the seated Chūnin, scanning the multi-coloured madness. "You've got to be joking."

Ino caught his gaze and held up one of the ridiculous hats which Sakura framed with her palms like a prize on auction. Both girls grinned tellingly.

Shikamaru chuckled low in his throat, shaking his head. "Not a chance in hell."

The limits of power – at its most sadistic – stretched as far as the imagination.

At least this was Neji's impression, because if the brain possessed no pain receptors or nerve endings, then the Hyūga clan had defied more than just blood with their curse seal – they'd defied biology.

Neji knew this pain.

What started as the barest twinge at his temple shot through into a knifing agony the second he stopped walking. And while the human body had a way of purging itself of the memory of most pains, this was one Neji had never forgotten.

NO…

Before he could pitch into the wall, he slammed the side of his fist into the smooth wood.

NO.

A shudder ran the length of his arm, but he refused to drop as he braced himself against the hot, white flash of agony. But before it could burn into a pit of bubbling lava in his head, the pain stopped.

Gone.

As quickly as it had struck, it vanished like a searing poker pulled out from his skull. Only a phantom pain remained. Sucking in a breath, Neji glanced up through the shiver of his bangs as he panted hard, a cold sweat sheeting across his face. Then his eyes frosted with something colder and his breath rattled in a hiss between his teeth.

Bastard.

Across the courtyard, Hyūga Hitaro stood, two fingers held straight and pressed serenely to his stern, perpetually down-turned mouth. The hand seal was unmistakeable. Neji's eyes flashed, but then Hitaro mockingly curled a finger to leave a single digit pressed to his lips in a gesture of silence.

Neji's eyes narrowed as he straightened up.

He knew the lesson here wasn't about suffering in silence; he'd learned that long before.

This was far more menacing.

This was a reminder.

Hitaro's eyes bore into the young Jōnin and the bleached, bloodless white of the elder's stare turned colder as he watched, waited, warned.

Damn you to hell.

The sinews in Neji's hands pulled as taut as wire, fingers flexing and furling into fists.

If only I could send you there.

His dignity roared out its defiance, claws of fury gouging the inside of his chest, wanting to rip out and riot. Wanting to rage and rule against this chain of control twisting tighter and tauter around him.

No. Not now.

Neji breathed deep, pulling in the air until the rage rippled away. For a moment he became so still he seemed to have calcified on the spot.

Frozen over – until he moved to bow.

And the second he did, something deep inside him cracked a little – as it did every time – invisible beneath the armour of an expressionless mask.

One day, I will trade this mask for another.

And as he bowed to Hitaro, he cauterized the wound in his chest with the conviction of that vow, letting it brand him deeper than the curse seal ever would.

I will break these chains.

Somehow, the chance in hell had happened.

Shikamaru pinned the outcome on the players. They'd all come together to crown him into their stupid ranks and now he sat to one side of the table, his head ducked slightly under the weight of the supersized party hat balanced on the long spikes of his ponytail.

"It's an interesting look for you."

Shikamaru glanced up without raising his head. "Here for the food too, huh?"

"You bet." Asuma looked down at him, head cocked to one side as he hooked his lip over an unlit cigarette, which tilted upwards in a jerk as his smirk turned sharper. "But seeing this is worth it, even if I wasn't here to eat."

Asuma was staring at the hat.

Shikamaru's lashes drooped. "You're supposed to be on my side."

"I am," Asuma assured, taking his seat beside the shadow-nin, smiling at the balloons tied to Shikamaru's chair. "If I wasn't I'd have told you how stupid you look instead."

"Right." Shikamaru straightened up, almost popping the balloons with the point of his hat. He smacked both palms to the table resolutely. "Ino, it's coming off."

"Noooo!" Ino rocked her seat into his, wrapping her arms around his hat to keep it planted on his head.

"Ino, get off. I'm gonna lose it."

"No way! After the trouble I went to?" Ino called in reinforcements. "Chōji!"

Chōji, without even looking over, extended a multi-sized hand across the table to pin his fingers on Shikamaru's shoulders, holding him still. "Ne, we're all suffering together here."

Shikamaru slumped in defeat and smacked his forehead onto the table with a dull thud – leaving Ino to catch his hat so it didn't fall off its ponytail perch.

"Why…?" he groaned.

Asuma blinked lazily, ribbons of smoke curling upwards from his cigarette as he set the pack down, chuckling. "Ah, there's the teamwork I applaud."

Shikamaru slid his hand under his chin to prop his head up, eyeing the cigarette packet.

Asuma slid it out of reach. "Don't even think about it."

"I hate smoking."

"Keep it that way."

"Hypocrite."

Asuma exhaled a thin plume, smirking. "Wearing that hat, I can't take anything you say seriously."

"This sucks."

"Shikamaru," Ino growled, twisting the hat around his ponytail as if she could screw it on and into place. "Quit being a killjoy."

"I'm not feeling the joy."

"Liar," Ino snickered, batting the balloons, which Naruto had decorated by scribbling faces onto them. "You're enjoying the food."

True.

Shikamaru set his elbows on the table and allowed her to manhandle his hat back into place, shaking his head marginally just to be difficult. Despite the irksome accessory, he couldn't deny that the relaxed meal was just the kind of distraction he'd needed – it certainly didn't hurt that the food was every bit the taste-bud treat that Chōji had promised. Everyone was digging in and the dishes kept on coming.

All of the Rookie Nine were present – bar of course, Sasuke.

Gai's team had yet to show.

Shikamaru blinked hard and veered his attention away from where that thought was likely to lead.

He set his focus on those gathered.

The teams sat sporadically, cushioned on comfy chairs that flanked the long table, occasionally swapping seats for new conversation or to orbit the table and reach the different dishes laid out. The dinning room's lighting held like honey, the soft amber of late afternoon sunlight tinted through the shoji doors. Music played unobtrusively and the atmosphere remained easy and informal, lilting with banter, laughter and the occasional rise in noise level - usually when Naruto and Kiba decided to go a verbal round several decibels louder than was polite or necessary to be heard.

On cue, Kiba piped up a little further down the table. "Hey Ino, what's up with these hats?"

Ino waved her chopsticks at Shikamaru. "I knew Shikamaru wouldn't take his stupid hair down, so I had to get measurements and find something that would fit."

Kiba munched on tempura, arching a brow. "You customized the hats because of Shikamaru? But not everyone has stupid hair."

Shikamaru arched a brow. "Who invited you again?"

Kiba chomped his jaws and grinned. Akamaru took the chance to mooch some food off the dog-nin's plate, ducking back down under the table to hide.

Ino rolled her eyes, adjusting her hat. "There was a mistake with the order and the whole bunch ended up like this."

"No bad thing!" Naruto leaned across Ino to flick Shikamaru's hat. "You could always pretend it's for your big brain, Shikamaru."

Kiba snickered. "Yeah, but not everyone has a big brain, do they, Naruto?"

"Shut up, crap-magnet." Naruto's growl morphed into a grin. "Chōji told me what happened!"

"Oh and did he tell you that Shikamaru's pet is frickin' psychotic!" Kiba squawked, stabbing a finger at the shadow-nin, tears almost springing to his eyes at the injustice of it all. "Screw the crapping part, it drew my blood!"

Shino caught Kiba's flailing limb before it could smack him in the face and dislodge his glasses. "If you were behaving like this, that's understandable."

"I wasn't doing anything. It was unprovoked. Shikamaru's bird is messed up."

"You have a bird?" Asuma queried, blowing a smoke ring onto the point of Shikamaru's hat in a hoop game.

"It's not my bird," Shikamaru growled, waving away the smoke. "Passive smoking still counts you know."

Asuma tried to look guilty and failed. "Sorry, I'm really trying, but I still can't take you seriously."

"Dammit," Shikamaru muttered, inching his fingers toward the hat.

"Stop it!" Ino slapped his hand, then beamed suddenly. "Asuma-sensei!" She ducked down to dig around under the table. "I have your hat somewhere!"

Asuma stopped smirking and held up a palm. "No, no. I'm good."

Shikamaru chuckled, shaking his head. "Coward."

"Clever," Asuma corrected, tapping his temple. "I'm not going to be stupid just because you look it. I'll feel sorry for you, not with you."

Shikamaru laughed quietly, making a languid stretch to reach for a fresh pair of chopsticks and some diced sushi. "Good thing I don't give a crap about my image, right?"

Asuma's eyes followed the lazy movement, then strayed further across the room and hit on something that had his response breaking into a deep chuckle.

Shikamaru frowned, propping his elbow on the table as he chewed. "What?"

Asuma smirked and cocked his head in the direction he was looking, bringing his cigarette to his lips with a chuckle. "You sure about that?"

Shikamaru frowned, glanced over the droop of his wrist and stopped chewing.

The sushi caught in his throat.

As sleek as a panther, a woman slipped between two attendants to stand in the doorway. Ebony fabric hugged the strong, generous curves of the kunoichi's body, spilling smooth as ink over long, dancer's legs barely visible through the two slits running either side of her robe.

Shikamaru flicked his eyes up.

His dark, bistre orbs locked with a pair of fierce teal eyes, fringed by thick, flaxen lashes that beat like wings as she shuttered her gaze to the same half-mast as his own.

A spark caught in the air, subtle as a firefly flitting between them.

Smirking, the woman cocked a flared hip against the doorframe and planted a slender hand at the deep curve of her cinched waist, banded with a crimson sash that matched the blood-red varnish on her nails.

Shikamaru filed the details without a word.

His features remained inscrutable, almost bored, but his eyes were engaged, clocking everything.

The woman's smirk cut deeper and her voice purred out low and throaty, amusement rich in it. "Well, I see the slacker-clown finally got a hat." She eyed the length of the jutting cone with a snort. "Awfully symbolic for such a fragile man."

Shikamaru's brow arched lazily. "And there's that mouth, woman, as abrasive as ever."

Temari's hair shimmered as she laughed and the rich but dry sound of her chuckle tickled something at the base of Shikamaru's spine, little grains of attraction that swirled like warm sand tickling his skin.

It forced him to straighten in his seat.

Looking skyward, he let out a longsuffering sigh.

How troublesome…

TBC.

A/N: Yup. Temari is a spanner in the works here, how could I resist that? ;)
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