Okay, yea, I know, I have like three other stories that I'm actually updating right now and yadda yadday yadda. BUT. Inspiration doesn't call often, and when it does, you freakin' listen.

Ahem. Anyways. This shall focus on the intricate bonds of people – building, breaking, maintaining, et cetera, et cetera. Based on the lovely little quote. Let's find out what direction it shall take, shall we?

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto. Or the quote. That's by Friedrich Nietzsche.

And those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music. -Friedrich Nietzche.

xxxxxxx

She was always more introverted, quieter, maybe a little more self-conscious. He was always the instigator of their misadventures, louder (if not obnoxious) and uncaring to what others thought. They complimented each other perfectly, as best friends should, and balanced each other out to equilibrium. Naruto by himself was overwhelming, and Sakura by herself wasn't very good company. Sure, on the flipside, Naruto had Gaara and Sakura had Ino, but first and foremost they had each other – next door neighbors, siblings, best friends.

When they were kids, Naruto would come up with a scheme guaranteed to get them in trouble before dinnertime. Sakura would be the willing accomplice and perhaps the voice of reason, though more often than not Naruto had convinced her to throw caution to the wind. Sometimes their parents found out and they'd be punished, but mostly they'd remain ignorant of what utter mischief their children were getting up to.

It was the thrill of the thing that made it so addicting to Sakura, the whole fear of being caught that made her agree to Naruto's wild schemes.

And then the first day of middle school came around. It was the first time they'd be separated for the entire day – their elementary school had been small, with one classroom per grade. But middle school – eight teachers, eight classes, and only one with Sakura?

Naruto didn't think things could get worse.

Unfortunately, he thought wrong.

Naruto wasn't very book smart. He was excellent in math, but he just scraped average marks in everything else. His personality more than made up for this – at least, that's what other people said.

All those other people obviously hadn't been to a modern-day American middle-school.

His short stature made him a wimp. His prowess in math made him a know-it-all. His unwillingness to take people's crap made him a douchebag, and the scars on his cheeks made him a freak.

He put on a smile for Sakura at lunch – she disentangled herself from a group of girls to come sit with him. "Hey!" she greeted cheerily. "Are you okay?"

Good as Naruto was at putting on a smile, Sakura could still see through his armor. "I'm fine!" he said, grinning. "Just starving."

And Sakura accepted that, because Naruto had his appetite, and he'd talk to her about it when he needed to. He always did; Naruto wasn't good at keeping things in. "Anyway," she said, "How's it been?"

Naruto shrugged. "Alright, I guess. How about you?"

Sakura grinned. "It's been great! There's this girl, Ino – I'll have to introduce you to her. Actually, she reminds me of you a little. But – hey, did you have Anko for English?"

And so the conversation turned, and Naruto was able to enjoy his forty five minutes of lunch.

By the end of the school day, he was a complete and utter wreck.

He had gotten into a fight with some black-haired boy, and it had not ended well. Both of them were hurting, but the other boy had had his friends behind him – Naruto was alone, bloody, and frustrated.

He was used to being alone, mostly, though – he lived with his godfather who wasn't very social, and he had Sakura – that was all he needed. But still – he was hurting. He punched a wall in his eleven-year-old rage and sunk against it, fighting back tears.

He was like that when Sakura found him. "Naruto?" she said, kneeling next to him. "What's wrong?"

"N-nothing," he said, fighting to speak past the lump in his throat. "I'm fine." He had to be strong for Sakura – he was supposed to protect her from bullies, like in kindergarten. Not the other way around.

She poked him on the forehead, hard. "No, you're not," she said, softly. "Just tell me what's wrong, okay?"

And Naruto found himself telling her everything.

When he was done, Sakura was frowning in concentration. Oh no, he thought, she's not gonna be my friend anymore cause I'm not cool and –

"It doesn't matter what they say," she said quietly. "They don't know you. Right? And today, my homeroom teacher gave us a quote – Those who were seen dancing were thought insane by those who couldn't hear the music – or something like that." She paused, as if considering her words. "And I guess that maybe they don't hear the music. But you do, and that's what makes you better. You always hear the music and dance to it…that's what makes you you. Don't let that change."

Sometimes, people have a way of saying exactly the words you need to hear – especially those who are closest to you. This, Naruto would think in retrospect, was one of those times. Surprisingly deep words from an eleven-year-old, but then again, Sakura was always a little more introspective.

And five years later, when asked, Naruto would say that this moment was the moment he fell in love with Sakura Haruno.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

That was the quote Naruto lived by – it was what fueled his charm, you could say. Eventually he did make friends in middle school – a certain moody red-haired boy, a lazyass genius, some kid who was rarely without his dog, and even a friendly rivalry with the boy he had gotten into a fight with. Life was, in a word, going good – he and Sakura were as close as ever and she was still in the dark about his affection for her, Sakura wasn't hardcore interested in any guys at the moment, Gaara wasn't about to kill someone, Sasuke hadn't gone completely over the edge it was summer – yea, life was going great.

It was one such lazy summer afternoon. Sakura and Naruto were lounging in his room, too lethargic to do anything. Sakura had a pool, and so did Kiba, but it was too hot outside to do even swim.

"I really hate it when Gaara goes on vacation," Naruto mumbled for the umpteenth time. Sakura had to agree. When days got this hot due to heat waves and the like, Gaara's basement was the place to be. It was cold and wonderful and had every gaming system known to mankind. From Halo to COD to Smash Bros. to Rock Band; no one was ever bored.

But, he and his siblings had to go visit their father out west – some sort of warped custody agreement, from what everyone understood. It was hard on Gaara, and bothersome for the rest of them, especially Naruto. He worried about Gaara – try as he might to come off as indifferent and cold, he felt – perhaps a little too much.

He'll be fine, Naruto reminded himself, and brushed those thoughts away. In the meantime, he had a mission: Operation Think of Something to Do Today.

"Ever feel like Phineas and Ferb?" Naruto asked with a grin. He was leaning against his bed, hands laced behind his head. Sakura sat across from him, legs crossed, leaning against a dresser.

She grinned. "I guess. Except our misadventures continue into the school year."

"Well of course," Naruto said, stretching his legs out. "But…hm…what day is today?"

"Friday." The reply was instant, and Sakura tilted her head. Naruto always came up with his most insane schemes on Fridays. No one knew why, but Shikamaru said it was something to do with the weekend time VS pent-up cabin fever.

"Hmm…well – nah, can't do that without Gaara – what say you to…road trip?" Naruto sat up now, waiting Sakura's answer.

"Where?" she asked offhandedly, "I mean – "

"Doesn't matter," Naruto replied instantly, ideas already forming. "Wherever the car decides to take us."

That was a good enough answer for Sakura.

Thirty minutes later both teens had cleared it with their parental figures, grabbed their wallets and assorted food (Naruto got unexplainably hungry when he drove – it was one of those phenomena that appear every so often) and were off in Naruto's Mustang. It was his pride and joy, and he treated it like it was his child.

Sakura named it Bucephalus.

So caution to the wind, music blaring, they were off.

Xxxxxxxxxxxx

Ten P.M found them sitting on the hood of Naruto's car staring up at the stars. Gaara could point out all the constellations and had once tried to show them, but Sakura preferred to remain ignorant on this one topic, if only so she could appreciate the sight with a simple mind.

And it was amazing. Down in the more populated areas, you never saw this much of the stars – thrown all over the place, scattered like diamonds. She sighed contentedly. "Alright – today was a success," she said, grinning at Naruto, "Though I'm not sure how I feel about the lack of running from the authorities."

Naruto grinned. "I'll make up for it when Gaara gets back, I promise," he said, leaning back. "Just you wait." His eyes flickered over to her. She was staring at the stars with such…rapture? Appreciation? He could only wish to be on the receiving end of such a look.

He shook his head to rid himself of the thoughts. He wasn't a realist or a pessimist by nature, but where Sakura was concerned he needed to be. Much as he'd love to try and start something with her…much as he loved that idea…he didn't want to risk anything and wind up destroying the beautiful thing between them.

You had something like they had – the connection – once in a lifetime, if that. It wasn't something you just threw away, or even risked.

Sakura was his soul mate, there was no doubt about that in Naruto's mind.

Even if Sakura didn't know it yet.

XxxxxxxxxX

Gaara no Sabaku shut his eyes and turned the volume of his iPod up a few notches, drowning out the sounds of his siblings.

Annoying…

He didn't understand why they had to travel nearly halfway across the goddamn country to visit the piece of filth that happened to procreate with their mother. Temari was nearly twenty and Kankuro was eighteen. Legally adults. He was right behind them; legally, he was the only one still underage. There should be no way that their father could force them all into a custody agreement.

Technically it's till your eighteen, Kankuro had said. Gaara didn't miss the implication of his words: Waiting around for Little Gaara, again. Watching him fuck up our lives, again.

Temari, to her credit, didn't blame him.

Aloud.

But it didn't matter – he blamed himself and took care of that problem.

Some people complained about their militant fathers. Gaara would tell them to shut up and actually try living with a father who was in the military. It was a wonder that none of them had been committed yet.

No one dares argue with the Colonel.

Sneering at the landscape as it flew by, Gaara transferred his headphones from his ears to his neck. "When are we gonna be there?" he asked from the backseat.

He smirked to himself as he saw Kankuro visibly twitch. It wasn't that Gaara really wanted to know, or cared either way; actually, he was rather indifferent on the subject. But it was hot outside and the car's air conditioner was busted. Such created the perfect conditions for a favorite game of Gaara's, one called Push Kankuro's Buttons. Temari knew what he was getting at, but didn't say anything. Gaara knew why. For once, she wasn't the one being annoyed, and in all honesty?

It was just so damn amusing.

Although Temari was the one driving, Kankuro was the one who responded. "When we get there!" he snarled at Gaara.

"Knock it off, Gaara," Temari said. No matter how amusing it was, she had to bring them to their father's house in one piece. If Kankuro tried to throttle Gaara and by some chance didn't get killed in turn, there'd be a problem.

"When's that?" Gaara prodded, ignoring his sister,

"Gaara," Temari said sharply, glancing in the rearview mirror. Gaara's facial expression didn't change when he snapped, "What?"

Temari didn't even bother justifying that with a response. She said something to Kankuro, quietly, but Gaara wasn't listening anyway. His foul mood wasn't abated in the slightest. Scowling at his iPod, he turned on the fastest, loudest song, jacked up a volume, and shut his eyes for his own benefit.

The world just needed to fuck itself.

The next time he opened his eyes they were pulling up to a house that really was more of a mansion. Well, a half-mansion. It was big, required both a maid and a butler, had four levels to it, and was outfitted with a yard that probably cost just as much to maintain as the mortgage.

That is, if the Colonel even had a mortgage.

As they pulled up Gaara took off his headphones and stretched his arms, cursing the heat. He'd get sunburn, for sure.

The butler – a guy named Baki – greeted them as they got out of the car and took Temari's bag. Gaara didn't understand why Temari needed three duffle bags for a two week trip; there was this wonderful invention called the washing machine, he had explained.

Temari hadn't appreciated it and muttered something about boys being stupid.

He and Kankuro shouldered their single, considerably smaller bags and followed Baki up the stone pathway (God forbid one touched Master Sabaku's manicured lawn) and the manservant explained, "Master Sabaku is out -"

Gaara heard no more than that. Leave it to his father to be out the day his children arrive.

Gaara hated everything about Suna. It was an uppity, rich-kid town smack-dab in the middle of a dessert and all suburbs. He scowled as he heard, in the distance (there was at least three freakin' acres between houses here, let alone the land around it) two people screaming at each other. He was about to turn on his iPod again when Temari got his attention.

"Gaara," Temari called his name in a way that made Gaara think she had been trying to get his attention for a while. "Did you get that? He's," there was no question as to what 'he' meant, "Going to be here at eight for dinner. We're going someplace formal, so wear a shirt with sleeves, okay?"

She began walking up the stairs after that, and Gaara glared at her back as he followed her. Sleeves his ass. She just didn't want their father to find out how much of a freak he was.

Not that it'd matter. Gaara had always been the favorite punching bag.

Gaara and his siblings climbed their way up the French staircase to their bedrooms. They were all lavish, like every other room in the damned house. When he was younger, Gaara used to think it was pretty neat, sleeping in a bed that could easily fit ten people.

Now the primness of it all made him hate it even more.

He didn't even bother to unpack. After throwing his bag onto the bed, Gaara glanced around the room. As usual, the caged-animal feeling began creeping up on him – he couldn't stand it, began to grow antsy, felt cornered.

He was outta there before the feeling could even fully settle in.

Xxxxxxxxxx

Temari hefted down on the bed belly-up, eagle-spread on a mattress that probably cost half of what she paid for her car. She shut her eyes against the onslaught of weariness that seemed to assault her whenever she sat down.

She hated this. Coming here was probably the worst thing for her – for all of them. But they were resilient, had always been. She could remember being fifteen and worrying if they were going to eat that night, worrying if her little brother was going to commit suicide, worrying if their father was going to come home drunk again or not. She could remember the first time she was actually hit – probably age twelve – and the first time she hit back – probably age fourteen.

She remembered holding her brothers in her arms that one night, when their father had come home with three other men and sent them upstairs with the instruction to 'don't come out whatever the fuck you hear.'

She was sixteen when she held Gaara as blood flowed from too many places on him and she didn't know if it was their father or self-inflicted. She remembered at how she couldn't tell if Gaara was crying or not but she remembered how she didn't – wouldn't allow herself to – cry. Because crying would mean that she had broken and if she was broken then he would win.

And she'd be damned before she'd let him win.

Xxxxxxx

As always, let me know your thoughts.