Well! This is my first non-humer, so read and review! Will be part of a slightly longer story, but it shouldn't go over a few chapters.
I don't own Naruto!
Some inspiration credited to my brother
The Boxer
Dingdingding!
"GO!"
The crowd screamed and hooted, stomping their feet. Smashed cans and crumpled popcorn cartons landed on the dirty tarp of the ring's mat. The two boxers hopped and bobbed, skirting each other, gloves raised to their chins, sweat plastering their hair down.
"And here we go for ROOOUND 7!" the announcer bellowed, throwing his arms wide. The crowd roared; the ground shook as they jumped and smashed their feet into the cheap particleboard floor.
Kankuro blinked sweat from his stinging eyes. His opponent was panting and wheezing, his left eye swollen almost shut. He bounced on the balls of his feet, skittering around the other guy, bandaged fists raised.
"COME ON SUBAKU!" someone screamed from the crowd.
Asuma lunged in, swinging wildly. Kankuro jumped back, taking two of the hits on his upraised arms, leaving the third to swing wide. The crowd jeered and bellowed.
Kankuro's arm shot out, his fist smashing his opponent on the jawbone. Asuma bellowed in rage and pain and reeled back. Kankuro pounded his fists relentlessly. Left. Right. Left. Right.
The crowd went wild, screaming, stamping, throwing things. Asuma stumbled backwards, falling against the ropes. Kankuro skipped back, fists raised, the blood from Asuma's face dripping from his knuckles.
Asuma groped for the ropes, slipped, and fell onto the dirty tarp mat, heaving breaths, the blood pouring from his face onto his black beard. The official swung into the ring.
"ONE!" he yelled, his voice hoarse from shouting. The crowd shouted and roared, frenetic.
"TWO!" Kankuro wiped his forehead with a sweaty forearm. He winced in pain as he dragged across a cut over his eye.
"THREE!" Asuma was struggling, pawing at the ropes, trying to drag himself to his feet. Blood dripped from his beard onto the tarp. A smashed beer can hit Kankuro in the shoulder; he let it glance off. The crowd was on its feet, their screams and shouts filling the dark room.
"FOUR!" Asuma slipped, his sweaty chest hitting the mat with a slap. The crowd jeered.
"Get up and finish what you started!" someone yelled. Kankuro let his fists drop, tilting his head back and breathing heavily. He ached from a hundred fist wounds, his hair was matted to his head with sweat. His right eye was swelling slightly, though Asuma had never been one to land a good punch to the face.
"FIVE!" Asuma clawed the tarp of the mat helplessly. The crowd's stomping was sending vibrations up Kankuro's spine. He closed his eyes and let the noise wash over him.
"SIX!" Two crumpled popcorn cartons and a half-empty paper cup of beer landed on the mat; the half-cup of beer hit Asuma, spilling over his back, sending the crowd jeering and laughing.
"SEVEN!" Kankuro frowned. He never liked it when the crowd got like this; now they were chanting something, he couldn't make it out.
"Go Sabaku!" a woman's voice shrieked. That would be Temari, he thought with a slight smile. That must mean Asuma won't be getting up again tonight.
"EIGHT!" Kankuro tasted blood and wiped at his nose experimentally; a stream of bright red blood streaked across his soiled bandages. Asuma was lying still now, his face screwed up in pain. The jeering of the crowd seemed to be crushing down on his bruised shoulders.
"NINE!" They were stomping in time now. Kankuro paused to try and make out what they were saying. He still couldn't; the boxing underground wasn't known for particularly articulate fans.
"TEEEEEEEN! KANKURO NO SABAKU IS THE WINNER!" the official yelled with all his might, head thrown back. The crowd erupted into a roaring mass. Kankuro opened his eyes and squinted through the smoky darkness, blinking salty sweat away as the official grabbed his fist and raised it up in triumph.
"KAN-KU-RO! KAN-KU-RO!" they chanted, stomping their feet. Kankuro blinked wearily as the official shook his fist in the air. His shoulders were groaning for the blissfully unaware man to stop.
"Kankuro no Sabaku wins!" he was shouting hoarsely, barely audible over the crowd. "Kankuro wins! Asuma is defeated!"
Kankuro pulled his fist away and wiped sweat from his face. He nodded to the official, who beamed at him and scurried over the ropes again. Kankuro trudged to his corner wearily, his right eye starting to swell in earnest.
"Seven rounds, that ain't bad, Sabaku," Baki said, thrusting him onto the low bench and shoving a bottle of water into his hands. He pressed a cold steel plate against Kankuro's swelling eye; he winced in pain and the steel smashed against the new bruise.
"I'd be nicer but Asuma ain't really the kinda guy you should be scared of," he continued. He paused, his tattooed face twisting into a grin.
"Feel okay after that pot-shot?" he asked. Kankuro grunted. His stomach still ached where Asuma had landed a lucky blow early in the round. Kankuro squirted water into his mouth, letting it dribbled down his chin.
Baki moved the steel plate to the side of his head, dark eyes alert, as usual. Kankuro spit his mouth guard out, letting it fall onto his jeans.
"How do I look?" he rasped. Baki chuckled, his tattoo-covered face crinkling.
"Might get some odd looks at work tomorrow," he admitted, slapping a cold towel on Kankuro's eye. "Not as much as him, though."
Kankuro peered at the other end of the ring with his good eye. A limp Asuma was being hauled off by a couple of his buddies. Kankuro sighed.
"I didn't mean that to be a knockout," he said hoarsely. "His wife's gonna kill me."
Baki gave a barking laugh, smudging Vaseline over Kankuro's bruised cheekbone. "Biggest guy in the ring, terror of the fighters, scared of that little lady?" he cackled. "Wait till I tell her! Maybe she can take you on in the grudge match!"
Kankuro grunted, clenching his teeth as Baki's steel plate moved over a new bruise. The crowd was scattering, the roaring and stomping of earlier replaced with talking and shouts of laughter. Someone propped open the exit door, letting the cool night air flow in to the stuffy interior. Kankuro breathed deeply.
"Another bruise?" Baki said cheerfully. "Oh wait! That's your nose! Sorry…" he sniggered, smearing Vaseline over Kankuro's bruises like it was going out of style.
Kankuro groaned.
"I though my family was the only one who made jokes about that," he croaked. Baki tossed him an ice pack.
"Okay, you're all done, kiddo," he said, stretching the ropes open. "See you Thursday?"
"Yup. Thanks, man."
Kankuro dragged himself to his feet, his muscles screaming in protest. He stumbled through the ropes and almost fell off the platform on to a scowling blonde woman with striking blue eyes.
"Some knockout punch," she said testily. "Do you know how many times Kurenai's gonna call me about that tomorrow?"
Kankuro winced as he swung to the ground beside her. She handed him a towel with pursed lips.
"Where's Gaara?" he asked, wiping the sweat from his arms and face. Temari tossed her blonde locks.
"Walked out after Asuma went down," she said, examining her black fingernails. "He doesn't like all the yelling."
Kankuro nodded. His little brother had never liked the crowds. He was impressed that silent little Gaara had even showed up tonight.
"I'll see you at the car, okay?" he said, trudging off to the back room where the boxers usually left their stuff. Temari stalked off in a mass of black leather and blonde hair. He banged open the door to the back room and grabbed his shirt, pulling it over his head.
"Yo Sabaku!" a young man with wild, black hair and red tears tattooed on his face said, snapping him with his towel. "That was some fight there!"
Kankuro winced.
"Thanks, Kiba," he said, stuffing his things into his bag and reaching for his shoes. "You looked good out there too…"
Kiba laughed ruefully, stuffing his towel into his backpack.
"I tell yah," he said, grinning to reveal a missing tooth, "I woulda had him if it didn't take so much to knock that Uzumaki guy out. Yah basically gotta beat him over the head with a sledgehammer! Darn!"
Kankuro straitened painfully from tying his shoes and chuckled.
"Next time," he said. Kiba punched a rotting, unused cabinet, sending it screeching on its hinges.
"I tell yah, Sabaku," he said, shaking his head, "Next time, man!" He swung his backpack over his shoulder and bounced out of the storeroom. Kankuro shuffled after him, froze in his tracks and swore as pain shot up his left side. He had taken too many body shots. But Asuma always fought hard, so it was either get beat up for 12 rounds or knock his lights out and get an earful from his wife Kurenai the next day. Kankuro winced. He wasn't sure which one was worse.
"G'night, Jiraya," he called to the bartender as he pushed open the low door. The white-haired old man looked up and waved from where he had been energetically wiping the counter.
"Nice knockout!" he called in a surprisingly booming voice. "You gonna be here Thursday?"
"Sure will," Kankuro said, stepping out into the cool, night air.
He trudged off to the parking lot. A few men in long, black sweatshirts and bandanas passed him without looking at him. He could hear a siren in the distance and the screech of car tires a few blocks down. He glanced up at the buildings that rose around him; all big, old brick buildings, now fallen into disrepair, their windows boarded up or half-pained in dusty, broken glass. A car whizzed past him with a kid leaning out the window shouting something Kankuro couldn't make out. Even though this wasn't a great part of town, people rarely bothered him. Being 6'5'' and almost heavyweight size had its advantages, apparently.
An old, brick red sedan screeched up beside him and honked.
"You getting in or what?" Temari yelled irritably, leaning over to open the door.
"I was coming," Kankuro said halfheartedly, swinging in beside her and slamming the door. Temari floored it and sped off into the cool night. Yellow light from the streetlights slid over them, one after the other after the other.
"You don't look too great," Temari commented, giving him a sidelong glance. Kankuro grimaced and pulled down the mirror on the visor. Sure enough, he sported a black eye, a bruised cheekbone and a cut on his forehead. There was dried blood on his nose from where it had bled earlier.
"Darnit," he said softly, scrubbing at it with his sleeve.
"Cut that out, will you?" Temari snapped. "I'll get it for you later."
"That's okay," Kankuro said.
"Don't be like that," Temari said angrily, "You've got work tomorrow, don't you? I'm not just gonna sit here and let you get fired again."
She made a tight turn around a corner and slammed on the breaks, almost sending them through the windshield. She looked at her brother piercingly.
"How's work going?" she asked.
"Fine," Kankuro lied. "Pretty steady, you know."
Temari gave him one last look before turning off the ignition.
***
Beep
Beep
Beep
Beep
Beep
"Gosh!" Kankuro slammed his fist into the top of his alarm clock. It crunched sickeningly. He sighed, lying back in his bed, his arm across his face. Light from his window was streaming in on the faded carpet; horns were already honking outside, and shouts and bangs floated up through the open window from the other residents of the apartment building.
6:45 already? Darn.
With a groan, Kankuro pulled himself up and swung his legs over the side of his bed, his elbows resting on his knees, his shaggy head drooping. He ached all over from his fight the night before. He could barely see out of his left eye. At least Temari had cleaned up the rest for him last night, but he wasn't optimistic about how his boss was going to take his new shiner.
There was a sharp rapping on his door.
"You up yet?" came Temari's muffled yell.
"Yeah," Kankuro yelled back in a cracking voice.
A few minutes later, he trudged out to the tiny kitchen and fell into a chair, yawning hugely. Gaara was already eating breakfast, staring with intense eyes at a biology book open beside him.
"Brush your hair, yah slob," Temari said with a half-grin, handing him coffee in a Valentine 's Day mug. Kankuro ran a hand through his tousled brown hair, making it stand on end.
"How's the shiner?" he asked drily.
Temari looked from his swollen eye to his un-tucked shirt to his messy hair and sighed deeply.
"Kurenai already called," she said, sitting down beside her two brothers. "Asuma can't go to work today. Proud of yourself? Hm?"
Kankuro set down his mug and buried his face in his hands.
"I told you I didn't mean it," he mumbled.
"Yeah," Temari snapped, "Well, Asuma's gotta go to work too, you know! You could lay off him a bit!"
"He's in the ring by choice," Kankuro sighed, going over the usual litany with his sister. "Nobody's forcing him to fight me, or any of the guys."
"Boxing," Temari said sarcastically. "That ought to help everyone."
"If it's trying to go to work and box or just going to work," Kankuro said testily. "Why do you think we do it?"
Temari checked her watch and rose to her feet sharply.
"I'm going to miss the bus," she said shortly.
Gaara raised his gaze from the book and looked at his siblings unblinkingly.
"I'll take it today," Kankuro said, rising stiffly. "You can take the car."
Temari paused and looked at him shrewdly.
"Are you going to go on Thursday?" she asked.
Kankuro grinned.
"So you are a little interested, eh?" he teased. "Yup. I'm fighting Hidan."
Temari grimaced and blushed at the same time. A slow half-smile spread itself on Gaara's face.
"Wanna come watch?" Kankuro asked, winking at his brother. "I'm sure Hidan wouldn't mind…"
"Shut up!" Temari said, grabbing her purse and turning even redder. "I'm just going to watch you beat the living daylights outa that jerk!"
Kankuro shrugged pointedly. Temari stalked out of the apartment huffily.
"I'm taking the car!" she called as she slammed the door behind her.