I'm sure even the greatest men were somewhat apprehensive when they were planning to overcome some of the more monumental feats that arrived upon their doorsteps.

I'm sure David was slightly worried before he faced off against Goliath with nothing more then a rock and a stone. Thomas More before he stood on the trial that could save him or sentence him to death, Brutus as he stood with his mates before they were to kill Caesar, and even Harry S Truman before he made the call to drop the bomb.

It's more then reasonable to feel some kind of fear, or hesitation, even for those men who are revered as heroes of they're own accord. It doesn't have to be much; it didn't even have to matter. What matters even in the slightest bit is that when a large instrument of fear and fate and came and knocked on their doors. They let just alittle bit seep between the cracks.

I on the other hand, could say I was in a similar position.

As I turned the door and stepped inside my one room apartment, I noticed several dead give away signs about the lion that slept in my den. The noxious smell of vodka all around the room. Ino's favorite drink when I ran out of win. She loved smell when it mixed with the expensive perfume I buy her when we go out. Even if it was repulsive.

Her, or in this case my keys were still atop the counter, perched above the European imported heels I had bought her for her birthday. Both shoes sloppily slapped up against the entrance way before the wooden flooring.

I could even hear the sound of her hiccupping and slurred laughter reverberating against the white painted walls of my home.

As I walked closer, the mess grew more and more vivid and erratic. A scattered skirt, a discarded blouse, a soaked sock draped across the magazine rack, and a dirty bra hanging from my lamp. All things led towards the couch in the center of the room, a makeshift trail of clothing that led to the culprit who planned to gracefully steal my sanity, and piece.

Low and behold, there she sat, damn near unconscious and wearing one of my night shirts. The prideful, baroness of Konoha U. Ms.Yamanaka Ino, herself.

"Shikamaru!" she mumbled excitedly. "I'm glad you made it home, baby. I've something I wanted to talk to you about." Her words were harder then usual to decipher. I was alittle relieved to see that her usual chatterbox nature had been slowed down a bit, so words weren't coming out of her mouth one after another like a human machine gun. But I suppose the price to pay was the clarity of each one, because this was drunken slurring and broken English.

Drunk Ino talk, per say.

"There's uh… This thing. This thing I wanted to ask you."

What the hell are you doing on my couch? I think that's a much better question.

"Can...Can you believe the crap they put me through at that good for nothing school!" she said with some more lovely slurring. Her skin a bright red, to show how flustered she was from all the drinking. It somewhat explained why she had on nothing more then a long Tee shirt, and a pair of panties.

If at least that much, I wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt without letting my eyes wander.

"They told me, I couldn't have the spot. Took it, robbed it, flushed the whole thing down the Godamn toilet. It's gone, and as long as they let that bitch Tenten have it, then I don't even care. None at all, no worry, completely fine."

You don't look find, drunkard.

"What was that? Did you say something mean, you big….mean."

"No, but you must be insane if you think I'm going to let you sleep half naked on my couch." Being drunk didn't even matter.

"Why not!?" she bumbled with another shot of vodka in her hand. "I've slept naked with you before, this is just a step before that one."

I couldn't help but cover my face with my palm. Ino was by no means a cute drunk, in fact she was just a bit slower and more rowdy then she was when she was sober. However, she only goes this far gone when something was seriously bothering her.

I shrugged, with a slight blush on my face from the prior comment and how loud she'd said it. I was sure the damn neighbor would have came knocking on my door by now. Still, I walked to the kitchen in the far edge of the room opening up the black refrigerator and grabbing a bottle of water out the side of the door.

"Oi, Shikamaru!" she yelled while I was in the kitchen. "Let me stay over here tonight, I don't want to go home." She asked. "Huh? Why are you blushing, baby?"

Why the hell are you talking so loud? Do you want me to have to explain to the landlord again?

"He actually laughed about it last time, and that doesn't matter for right now."

You're drunk; you barely even know where you are.

"On your couch, ready for you to come over here."

Ugh… I'd had enough of this.

"No." I grumbled as I tossed the ice cold bottle at her lap. "Unlike you, I've got a boatload of work to do."

"Please" she pleaded. "I promise I won't be a bother."

You're half naked, and drunk on my couch. I think you're more towards the nuisance category.

"It was hot, and I spilled something on my clothes. Might have been something I drank."

"No!" I said with the best frown I could give her. "No means no!"


I'm not sure myself what caused it to be, but a few hours later I found myself glancing at relatively the same sight as before. Clothes still leaving marks on the floor, even after they'd been slid around just a bit. Cleaning solvent and alcohol filling the air all around us both. And a slightly more covered, by a blanket from the closet, as well as completely out cold, was Ino.

Someway or another she'd gotten what she wanted in the end it seemed. I wasn't trying to be nice and let her stay here or anything like that; I just got sidetracked by doing other more important things is all.

Finished with the brunt of my work, I made my way towards my own miniature musical corner. Various items I had bought, or had bought for me all around the little backdrop by the sliding glass window which leads to the balcony.

Pictures of my father's concerts, and friends from old hanging in effluencey. All gravitating around the Grand Piano which had been purchased for me the birthday after I first showed I could play it better then the flute.

Around my seventh birthday, after I had finally gotten a hang of playing the recorder. My father wanted to try and educate me on how to follow in his famous footsteps. However, that didn't yield any positive results.

We tried everything, so much so that I grew tired of being drilled in how to play the flute over and over again. So one day, while my old, troublesome teacher wasn't looking I snuck out of the classroom and tried to take a nap on the grand piano which lied in the room two doors down from hers.

It was left open when I found it, so I tried to close it up. Accidentally striking the keys while doing so. For some reason or another, when I started I couldn't stop. Kind of like that answer on a test, when you have no clue which one is right, when I played one note; I played another, and another, and another. It all seemed to fit into place, like it just felt like the right thing.

Sooner or later, that old wench caught wind of my trick and found my hands working their way across those blackened ivory keys.

Leading me all the way down, to where I still have my fingers working my way across those very same keys twelve years later. Only this time it's my future on the line.

Tonight, as I made my way up the steps to the Grand Piano which had never quite left me down. I took the same spot I always did, sitting snack dab in the middle and turning the large music book perched in the middle of the stand.

Grabbing a pack of menthols out of the side of my jacket, I made sure to grab the remote that opened up the window behind me. After all, I didn't want my house smelling anymore like cigarette smoke.

I shuffled through the pages, expecting to hear alittle from my neighbors before I started playing myself. The neighbor to my left was surprisingly enough the first heiress to the Hyuuga family household. The Hyuuga's were a long since established dynasty of power and conquest that dates back to the rural days of Konoha.

Each was known for the wisdom, their virtue, and their inability to be trampled by any of Japan's problems over the years. When World War I happened, the Hyuuga's were there. When the atom bomb dropped, the Hyuuga's were there, and I can't help but think that when it all comes to in end in some troublesome and retarded way, the Hyuuga's will be right there scorning whomever they please.

Hinata Hyuuga was her name I think, but I'm not sure what instrument she plays. I know she has a brother named Neji who is probably the most talented person I'd ever met. The guy is by no means a social butterfly, but he starts on the Football team, excels in the Tennis Court, A well known figure in the Kendo world, and still finds the time to practice in the Cello.

Neji always seemed to be the topic of a conversation about the Hyuuga's, which made sense considering how well he can play. Most of the times when I hear Hinata play; it strikes me as troubled, and complicated. However, I'm never sure what's hers from what's not hers.

Neji doesn't live there, but he visits from time to time, and she often brings company over just about every night. Sometimes it's some dog boy named Kiba, who plays an obnoxiously loud trumpet, or an older student named Shino, who majored in conducting.

Either way, that team they had going over there was definitely more extravagant then what we had going on here. Even with Ino's help.

I finally reached the piece I was looking for,

"Spring" Violin Sonata No. 5. Op 24 – Beethoven.

The piece had been transformed into an easy more balanced version that could be played using one to two pianos. Even if it was originally designed to be played between a violin, and a piano.

With a drag of my cigarette and a shot of rum, I cracked my knuckles and began to play the piece. Streaming hand over the piano keys in the manner of which the sheet had instructed.

A slow, easy listening melody, that represented the coming embrace and breeziness that came with spring. Illustrating ever glowing flowers, or richly nourished orchards which finally cast away their covering petals, and spread out to meet the sun.

It as a peaceful song, one in which you can imagine small creatures playing in the meadow, listening to the brook as it gently moves southward, no more then a couple of feet away from the meadow.

It didn't last for very long.

Around three or four minutes into play, I heard a particular howl from the window behind me. A loud cackle that threw me off rhythm, so much so I stopped playing just to turn my head to meet it.

"Oi!" it shouted. "Start it over!"

An impulsive, imprudent tone that sounded about as innately rude as it did familiar. I scoffed to myself as I hard such a remark, but nonetheless seeing as my rhythm had been so badly mirred before, I had no choice but to comply with this unseen member of my audience.

I began the song once again, slowly starting to play the melody which could cause a veil of spring to arise, however something else nearly stopped me this time. But not a voice or a command from a troublesome person.

But a viola instead.

Without my knowledge, this player tried to emulate my playing, and though they seemed to have a good concept on how the song should be played there was something significantly different about it.

The musician played in fortissimo, a cantabile style with strong and powerful notes, and the sharpest edges I had ever seen.

The graceful spring orchard had been altered. Slowly growing a more stern and solemn meadow. All of the Viola's notes were hit with a stern precision, and clarity. A bold faced strength that seldom drifted out of perfection, but at the same time came off more like "Fall" then it did "Spring".

The Viola took the kindness out of the orchard, and characterized it as if a stronger animal had swooped in and bossed the rest of the orchard to follow its lead. Another smarter animal reducing the beauty of the song, but still leaving a forceful impact on the entire meadow, an impulse that wouldn't soon be forgotten.

The viola was too bossy, but perfect. Its style of music was garish, but this person played in a way that compensated for this fact. Making it sound as lively and joyful, as it was strong.

The impression was something I knew, whomever this person was they were obvious control freaks, which had to have prevalence over anything they played in. The same kind of tone I heard earlier today. A leader, who transformed attitude into superfluous notes and techniques.

A Cantabile Bombshell to say the least.

So, I suppose I'll play along. If they want to play and be the center of attention, then I suppose that's fine with me. The center stage was never a stage I particularly wanted to jump on top of and be on regardless.

It'd always been like that, heads always turning my way and expecting me to want to lead the song in anyway I wanted too. To make me follow through with note after note of perfection, when in all actuality, that's not how I wanted to lead at all. This viola was smart enough to realize that thing that mattered the most was playing the song right and playing it well.

Why? Even of that I wasn't quite sure.

We played note after note, measure after measure. The notes descending from both Allegro to Fortissimo in fashions that might have been alittle unorthodox, but done in good taste as well. Everything was closer to perfect then anything I'd ever done with a partner before, the viola took its powerful lead, and I followed suit without too much griping or even being left behind.

After awhile, we finished the First and second movements, concluding the piece on that note because the viola didn't begin the opening part for the next movement.

In what felt like an instant, the spring fields all around me melted while my fingers rested still on the ivory. The beautiful music caused my whole body to tremble, even if subtly. In awe if nothing more, the Violin Sonata between two instruments became nothing more then the sound of a half asleep drunk woman humming the melody in her sleep.

(Ino liked the song.)

With a cigarette half burnt in my lips, and a shot glass empty, it was almost as if I'd been woken from a really commanding dream. An angry slumber that held me much longer then I would have wanted, even if I felt great the second it was over with.

I didn't ask questions, I didn't need answers. Without thinking at all I turned my back and headed to the window behind me.

It was as if I suddenly, just got it.

They say that a musical experience of a lifetime is a fleeting one. That after there's one good one, the rest will fade in memory, fade in euphoria. But I can honestly say, I was never one to care too much about that. The song itself had now taken a backseat to the reason why I was playing.

But when I rose, from my seat, it was to find that viola player. Not because they could be an asset to me in the upcoming exam weeks, not because I can use a viola in the next exam.

It was so I could play like that, at least one more time.

I opened the glass door, instinctively looking towards Hinata's apartment, expecting to her brother, or one of her friends holding the instrument firmly in their hands. But to my dismay, I spotted nothing of the sort, the only sight greeting me there was an open window. (As they were probably listening to us play.)

So I turned to my right, but shrugged out of shock. Almost despair.

The sight was peculiar, long blonde hair laid pinned up and soaked with vivid moonlight caught in-between the wire like strands of hair. A vivid smile on her chin, as she faced my way. Grasping the eloquent violin in a ready position, I could almost sense the familiar hubris that emanated from this woman's lips.

There stood the voluptuous Temari, eyes barely open as hints of the music still flowing out from her being. It was a sight for sore, grumpy, half awake eyes. Greeted in the night by my Cantabile Bombshell.