Midnight to Morning

She smelled like sand, which wasn't surprising considering she was a sand ninja. Underneath the dusty scent was the metallic tang of blood. Kiba hunched his shoulders forward, his wild eyes stealing a glance at the tall blonde ninja with the large fan strapped to her back. His eyes could see blood, but his nose sure could smell it. A fine dusting of sand darkened her pale skin. "What are you looking at, dog face?" she sneered.

Kiba resisted the urge to look away. "You," he replied. He spun on the bar seat, leaning back against the bar. "Whatcha doing?" He thought she was beautiful, but that was the type of thing Kiba liked to pretend he didn't notice. He had enough trouble keeping his eyes and nose away from the girls in the Leaf Village. He wasn't going to be a player like his father had been. No. When he'd only have one girl and she'd have to be the right one.

This ninja—what was her name again? Telari? Tenika? No, it was Temari. Like a ball of string, wasn't it? Well, whatever it was, she didn't look or smell to be in a good mood. She scowled and came toward him like a hurricane, sandaled feet punished the floor with the force of her approach.

Kiba didn't flinch although he almost wanted to. At the last second she veered away, taking an empty stool beside him. "Give me a beer," she ordered the bartender. The bartender arched an eyebrow. "I'm a sand ninja," she said, with a touch of impatience. "We don't have an age limit." At that the bartender placed a dark bottle in front of her, popping the top off with a bottle opener.

Under the faint scent of blood, Kiba smelled the salt of tears. Ha, he thought, she's been making people bleed and cry. That figures with a ninja like her. I don't know how Shikamaru can keep up . . . He thought about the Nara clan and burst out laughing. There was no way Shikamaru could keep up with a ninja like Temari. And for all his smarts, the thought of keeping up had probably never occurred to him. The best a Nara could do against someone like Temari was survive . . . or run.

Temari's green eyes narrowed. "Something funny?"

Kiba grinned, flashing pointed canines at her. "Not a damn thing, Temari," he said. "Not a damn thing." And then he started laughing again because if he didn't he might get lost in her green eyes. Not that it mattered much, he was already a bit lost in that he was talking to her when he was supposed to be ignoring her. He cleared his throat, laughter subsiding. "Well, nothing except, maybe, you should beware the Three Prohibitions of the Ninja."

"Prohibitions? We don't have any prohibitions in the Sand."

That was unlikely. Kiba was pretty sure they were universal. Maybe no one had told Temari because her father was the old Kazekage and her psycho brother was the new Kazekage and she was a force of nature with a bad attitude and a beautiful body. "The first prohibition is gambling."

Temari scowled. "No one asked you." She took a pull of her beer. Kiba almost burst out laughing again as the alcohol hit her system in a disagreeable way. He'd seen people drink before and it was apparent that Temari was not a drinker.

"The second prohibition is drinking alcohol."

"I happen to like alcohol," Temari answered. She schooled her features and took another drink.

"They say that's how alcohol starts to take hold of you," Kiba said. "You get stupid and say you like it and then, to save face, you keep drinking it until you're hooked."

"I am not hooked."

Kiba launched forward, sniffing her mouth. Temari's face turned bright pink and she shoved him back. Kiba ruffled his own hair and smirked. "You smell like it's your first time drinking." He rubbed a finger against the side of his nose. "I can smell old alcohol pretty easy."

Temari's shoulders hunched forward for a second. Then, seemingly realizing what she'd done, she squared them again. "So what's the third prohibition?"

"Women."

"Women?"

"Yep. A ninja must avoid women."

"Women?" Temari repeated. She arched an eyebrow. "So you're saying . . . what are you saying? Are you violating the third prohibition, Kiba Inuzuka?"

"Me? Heck no. I avoid your kind. Too troublesome—"

There was a glint in Temari's eyes, a mirage shimmer of sorrow, flashing under the surface. She pushed the beer back, reached in her pocket for a few coins to leave on the counter. "Too troublesome," she said. There was a tightness to her voice. As she turned, Kiba could see the tension singing in her shoulders, the quiver of her bottom lip.

For a moment he sat there, stunned at her behavior. Then, like a curious puppy, he went after her.

It was snowing. A fine dusting of white. Later, he would take Akumaru and they'd see how many footprints they could make in the training arena. Maybe if it snowed enough they'd have a snowball fight . . . But for now, he followed the angry trail of footprints, each one a perfect imprint of Temari's sandals.

Kiba knew that Temari liked Shikamaru. It was evident in the way she glowered at him and snapped about what a lazy ass he was. Her visits to the leaf village had, as of lately, started even when she wasn't acting as an ambassador. He also knew that Shikamaru was afraid. The Nara heir had his life planned out or something like that and Temari was like boiling water melting his perfectly sculpted plans. The poor ninja must have finally snapped and ran like the self-proclaimed coward he was.

Kiba could smell Temari's trail even without the visual clues. Against the early winter snow, she smelled hot and angry. He tugged up his fur-lined hood, shoving his hands into his jacket. The trail slowly lost force, the footprints getting scuffed as she started shuffling her feet, swaying. Mingled here and there, he could see small round droplets of melt against the blanket of snow. Tears.

And then there she was. Sitting on a playground swing, facing the stone wall. Both hands clutched the chain on one side and her shoulders shook with her sobs. Anyone else would have stopped. Kiba kept going. "He ran."

Temari's shoulders stilled. She said something, but her voice was thick and choked and she quickly fell silent. She didn't try and repeat herself. Kiba caught the seat of her swing and pulled it back as far as he could. "What are—" Temari managed. Then he was pushing her forward, putting the swing into motion. The swing wobbled, pulled to the left by her hands on the left chain. She quickly grabbed the other side. Kiba pushed her forward again and again.

"Kiba—"

He jumped on the back of the swing, feet on either side of her hips. "Hey Temari, look up," he said. When she looked up, tears streaking her face, she seemed angry. Her mouth was a thin line, her forehead pinched, eyes narrowed. He leaned forward, so all she could see was his face. "Look at the sky," he commanded, tilting his own head up and throwing his shoulders back so she could see the sky unimpeded.

"What am I looking for?" she asked.

"The morning."

The sky was inky black, dotted only with flakes of white, without a trace of dawn.

"It's near midnight." Her breath puffed white and hot, smelling of beer.

"Yeah, but it's not always going to be midnight. Soon it'll be morning." He dropped off the swing, arresting her movement. He pressed his face into her hair, inhaling her scent. "And even if it's storming tomorrow it'll still be tomorrow." His face shifted so it was pressed against the side of her neck, near her ear. He whispered, "If you want, I'll wait here with you. Until morning."

She stilled.

Kiba breathed in and out, his warm breath tickling her ear. Impulsively, he nipped her ear lobe. "What do you say? Wait for morning with me?"

"Or what?"

Kiba chuckled. "Nothing. You can wait with me or I can wait with you or you can leave or you can stay." He kissed her cheek, impulsively. "I'd say it doesn't matter to me, but that's be a lie. I'd like if you waited with me."

Temari was silent. He could see her pulling back, contemplating. "Shikamaru is not interested," she started to say, voice very careful, very neutral. "He said now would be troublesome." Kiba didn't respond. She wasn't really talking to him so much as she was talking to herself. He hopped onto the adjacent swing and started rocking his body back and forth, gaining momentum.

The sound of the swing was loud against the whisper of snow in the night, the hiss of Temari's hot breath. "I hate waiting," she said, and her voice broke a bit.

"Me too," Kiba said. He hopped off the swing and came toward her, one hand extended. "Shikamaru lives in the future."

She lifted her eyes to his. "Yes, he does." She looked away then. "I think I will take you up on your offer of waiting for morning. Just try not to be insufferable."

Kiba, hand still extended, got closer to her and tilted her face back toward his. "I've changed my mind about waiting," he said.

"Oh."

He bit his bottom lip, suppressing a laugh. Someone he didn't think she'd appreciate it. "How about instead of waiting for morning with me, we go and look for it together."

She hesitated, then stood up. "Why the hell the not," she said. She took his hand. Kiba squeezed hers lightly. They started walking, her following his lead at first as he whistled a jaunty tune as they headed out of the village, and then him following her lead as she picked up speed, racing through the dark woods.

When morning broke across the sky they were sitting on the top of a mountain summit. Temari had her head against his shoulder, her breathing broken by the occasional soft snore. Kiba had his arm around her, fingertips playing with the sleeve of her top. She smelled like sand and wind. Beautiful.