It's over.
Those words wouldn't leave a bitter taste in her mouth if the ending hadn't come painted in blood and tears. It's not like she was ever emotionally invested, anyway. She never tried to be, never desired to be, and is, quite frankly, glad of that. It would be a shame to be one of those who bare trails heavy with longing and regret staining their faces, staining that age-old shinobi rule that forbade them show emotion. For creatures that were supposed to live by the code, they did a lot of work defying it at times.
But there's somehow bile in her throat, and even though Tenten could really care less about the body of that traitor; the body of the man who was treated with more love than he ever deserved, she swallows grimly past the lump in her throat, and stares with dry eyes as more than one of her comrades dissolves into tears.
Sakura is silent, and for that Tenten offers her begrudging respect. Those bright green eyes are moistened with grief, but she does not sob. Tenten has never been able to decide what she thinks of Sakura's desperate attachment to Sasuke, even after he time and time again trampled on her feelings; maliciously, even. Tenten likes to think she'd tell any guy [even Hyuuga Neji himself, pretentious bastard] who tried to manipulate her like that just where he could stick his bullshit… but she doesn't know. Doesn't want to know, honestly, and the part of her that is just a little bit too sadistic for her own good is glad that Sakura has to deal with it and not she.
By all rights, Sakura is acknowledged as the stronger one.
Naruto, on the other hand…
Nobody is quite sure what to do. It was always the one thing they dreaded, the one thing that held everyone back. Even if they didn't care about Sasuke, there was still Naruto. Naruto who loved and lived and breathed those he found close to him, even when they were traitorous, murderous, vengeful backstabbing bastards who never cared about him—or so Tenten likes to believe. She is frank with her emotions, sharp and blunt at the same time. Nobody who gave a shit, even a little one, about someone else would inflict so much pain on them without remorse.
Tenten never liked Sasuke, but in his time as a traitor, she eventually grew to hate him. How dare he take so much from a village who only wanted to help him?
From a blonde, scruffy kid, whose only wish was to have his friend back?
That blonde kid was unabashedly sobbing his eyes out right now. Sasuke's remains [pitiful as they were] had already been cleared. There was nothing left of him but the sadness of his once-peers, and just like Sasuke's presence had been when he was alive, that was nearly suffocating.
All of them were surprised when Naruto managed to quell his response. When the final blow hit, there were no great sobs, or horrendous screams, or anything significantly emotional to mark the passing of Sasuke's soul into the next. Dark, unbelieving silence had taken the battlefield. Was it really the end, they all wondered. Could he really be dead—finally?
And it wasn't until Sasuke's body was long gone and only those closest to Naruto were standing in a semicircle around him, some crying, some merely dropping their chins and their eyes and breathing with constricted chests. Nobody moved, in the group. Not even Sakura. Everyone merely stood there as Naruto's sobs echoed across the hauntingly empty battlefield.
If anyone were looking at Tenten, they would see her offering the most blasé reaction possible, given the events at hand. She is staring noncommittally at her hands, which are held up before her like something of great importance. Her head is down, but there is no sorrow in her eyes, merely acceptance. Thankfully, everyone's eyes are either on the ground or Naruto, and so she does not have to worry about being reamed by some grief-stricken shinobi for incorrect emotional response… even though they, technically, would be considered the 'incorrect' one. Somehow, she doesn't think anyone is going to congratulate her for offering little-to-no reaction at the death of one of Konoha's biggest burdens since the Kyuubi no Youkai.
There is a reason why she is examining her palms with passing disinterest. She's not quite ready to come to terms with this reason, and so this isn't so much a discovery as a distraction.
Palms up, she stretches her fingers and spreads them wide, inspecting marred and calloused fingertips and the worn insides of her gloves. Her hands turn at the wrists and the backs appear, and her fingers are similarly flexed a second time. This time, she observes the chipped way her nails lay, eternally dirty and never quite feminine. There are scars on her knuckles and the skin is brown from sun. They are strong hands, bound in tired leather gloves that she will need to replace soon, and Tenten sighs as those hands curl into fists.
She relaxes her body and makes the final mental preparation.
Stepping forward is the most casual thing she can do right now, and all of the sudden there are no longer eyes on Naruto. Half of them, she's sure, are wondering why one of the giant amalgamated mass of shinobi has stepped away from its post as a mournful sentinel. It's hard to not be cynical when one has lived their life being nothing but an insignificant part of that mass.
Naruto couldn't notice any less—she doesn't expect him to, really. Wishes no one would. Tenten finds comfort in fading behind the scenes. She learns more that way. Learns by not getting involved unless necessary. It's easy to observe when nobody notices you enough to realize that you're watching.
Both arms spread out like a stretch as her feet bring her toward him. Naruto hears footsteps; is only just looking up when his stormy blue eyes are clouded by a fog of white as Tenten pulls him toward her in an act of pure resignation. It takes a moment of coaxing with her hands to draw his head into her shoulder and his body closer to hers. He is taller, but her arms are longer, and so one positions itself at the base of his neck while the other wraps around his back and pulls him toward her in a comforting gesture that is almost forceful. She doesn't know how to be gentle—never has. But Tenten knows when things need to be done. She knows that sometimes there's nobody out there willing to do it, and that most of the time it's because they don't know what to do, or how.
The sentiment is useless now.
Maybe that means Naruto has changed her, too. After all, he somehow compelled her to step away from the crowded safety net of being just another half-rate shinobi in a world of people who would kill her without a second thought. Tenten sniffs a little. She doesn't particularly think she needed changing.
It takes him a moment, but then he's crushing her like she is a pliant body of fluff. Which she is not, so it understandably hurts a little. She regrets her actions infinitesimally as she feels a moisture she's almost positive is not completely salt water leak down her collar as Naruto's face finds its way into the crook of her neck. He's almost crying harder than before, because there's something about being comforted that makes someone more sad than they originally were, if that even makes sense. Tenten has never cried in anyone's arms before, but she has held people before [with the same amount of hesitant reluctance], and without fail, as soon as they were settled in her arms, it felt like the final wall had been broken down. There's safety with others, and as she cradles him, Naruto drops his final thread and loses whatever pathetic composition he was attempting to maintain only seconds ago.
Tenten doesn't really mind. Not really. It's nice to help. Tough love has been bred into her nature, but sometimes… well. Sometimes there needs to be more love than tough, and sometimes one needs to go out of her way to accomplish this.
Her cheek finds a spot against blonde hair that is damp with she-doesn't-want-to-think-what, and Tenten sighs again, just for effect. It's not okay, and it won't be for a long time. As much as she wishes it would, one hug is not going to solve Konoha's problems, or stop the many tear-filled nights that the shattered remnants of Team Seven can look forward to after this point. [Not much different than before, really.] There's a vague sense of closure that Tenten is not sure isn't completely in her mind, hanging on as her own personal, desperate wish that this whole fiasco would finally be over.
There is no chance that Naruto will spend more than five minutes without tears in his eyes for the next three days or so. Everyone is going to be on edge, and she is balefully certain that someone is going to force her into a girl's night at some point, and there will be bad movies, ice cream, and more dreaded tears, because for some reason most women cannot comprehend that watching chick flicks whilst trying to cope with heartbreak is a bad idea.
She is resigned to this.
Because, at last, this chapter is showing some vague signs of coming to an end… One that is long overdue, if anyone were to ask her.
Nobody will. But she's okay with that, too.
A/N: Man, has it been a while. Nothing much to say here. Instead of finishing an essay due tomorrow, I wrote its equal in fanfiction just because I could. I hope you don't mind NaruTen. Then again, it's platonic enough, and I suppose if you didn't like it, you wouldn't be reading this author's note right now. --Judo