Downfall

"Can you explain what went wrong, sister?"

Temari gulped as she tried to come up with a suitable explanation. Her nerves were shot and her energy was gone. What was she supposed to say? Was there a right answer that he was waiting for? "I'm not sure, Gaara. It just didn't go right."

The Kazekage scrunched his non-existent eyebrows together. "Temari, I know for a fact that you are at least ten times stronger than those ninja were. So why did you lose to them?"

"I told you, I don't know!" Temari said, raising her voice to her brother - something that has never happened. "Maybe I just had a bad flipping day!"

Gaara stood up, slamming his palms on his desk. It had been years since she had been afraid of him, but the anger in his eyes was certainly alarming. "If it was just an off day, then this wouldn't be the fifth mission this week that should have been far too easy, but you failed!"

"Gaara…"

"You were sloppy," he recited, without having to look at the report, "distracted, and ill-looking. Tell me the truth, sister."

Temari crossed her arms, defensively. She had never lied to either of her brothers before, and it was making her feel sick. "Maybe I've caught some bug. I'm sure I'll shake it off soon."

"Of course you did." Kankuro's voice came from the door. "Is that why the shinobi in charge of the mission claims that you smelled like alcohol?"

Gaara's jaw dropped. He moved his gaze from his brother to his sister. The look of hurt, of betrayal, was too much for Temari. It was her baby brother. If it had been anybody else… Her eyes began to feel wet. "Is this true, Temari?"

"I was out drinking the night before?" Temari admitted. To her, there was nothing to be ashamed of. She deserved a night out. "I didn't like the hangover that I had the next morning, so I had a few cans before I left."

"You told us that you had your drinking problem under control!" Kankuro roared.

Temari frowned. "It's not a problem, and I do have it under control. I'm not some fucking drunk, Kankuro!"

"Stop." Gaara said sternly and loudly. His deep voice and his tone commanded attention. He spoke gently when he opened his mouth again. "Please leave, Temari."

"Gaara, let's just-″

"Please leave my office, Temari." Gaara said in his usual monotone. But Temari knew him better than most. She could hear the deep pain in his voice; the hurt that it dripped with. Holding her head high, she turned and left the building. She walked through the streets with as much pride as she could.

She ignored the villagers that were trying to be friendly. She passed quickly by the shops she usually stopped by on her way home. She didn't really feel like talking to anyone. With each step closer to home, the more her throat stung as the lump crawled it's way up.

Soon, her actions began to feel mechanical. Unlock from door. Put shoes by enterance. Take of jacket. Walk into kitchen. Get glass out of cupboard. Get bottle from fridge. Pour. Drink. Forget. Forget the pain and the weight of the world. Let the alcohol make you go numb.


"Babysit?"

Kurenai nodded. "Kakashi had important meetings and Konohamoru's on a mission."

Shikamaru rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm busy too, Kurenai-sensei. I have piles of vital paperwork for the exams that has to be done by morning."

"She loves you, and you babysit her all the time. She'll be fine." Kurenai persuaded. "I'll pick her up as soon as I get back, first thing in the morning."

Shikamaru looked down at the three-year-old who was holding her mother's hand. Shikamaru felt the corners of his lips lift up. Her smile was contagious. "Sure, Kurenai-sensei. Maybe having her around will make doing paperwork bearable."

"Shika!" The child let go of her mother's hand and ran over to Shikamaru, clinging to his leg. She laughed saying goodbye to her mother. Together they made their way to Shikamaru's apartment. Halfway there, Mirai started complaining, so Shikamaru carried her.

He set her down on the carpet and brought out the toybox that he kept kidden (what would people think?) unless Mirai was there. "Play out here, Mirai. Shika has a lot of work to do."

Mirai nodded, but looked around confused. "Aunt Tem." She said, struggling to express her thoughts verbally. "Where Aunt Tem?"

Shikamaru swallowed the lump that appeared in his throat. "She's not here right now, Mirai."

Miarai didn't like his answer, and frowned, whining, "No! Play Aunt Tem!"

Shikamaru exhaled. He glanced down the hall at his home office, growing disheartened at the sight of the stacks of papers with a very short deadline. He couldn't keep arguing with a toddler. Especially about… "Mirai, Temari isn't here. She's three days away. She can't play with you, alright?"

"Shika!" She tugged on his shirt sleeve and handed him a can of Play-Dough. She smiled, expecting him to start making things with it. When he put it down, she whined again, "No! Shika!"

"I can't play, Mirai." He reinstated. "I have so much paperwork that even if I don't eat or sleep, I'll be crunched to get it all done. So please behave,"

She sniffled; the first sign. "No Shika and no Aunt Tem?"

Then, full-blown tears.

She cried and cried. Shikamaru didn't know what was wrong with her. She was normally fairly-well behaved for him. He itched for a smoke, but couldn't do that in front of Mirai. He was her role model. He tried to calm her down, but he could barely hear himself over her cries. Between his relationship, the near-impossible workload, and the screaming child – Shikamaru had enough.

"Mirai, shut up!"

His lungs constricted and he couldn't breathe. The pain in his shoulder and chest – which he had been ignoring – magnified a hundred-fold. He fell onto his knees, clutching his chest. This wasn't normal. He tried to think through the pain. Right before he blacked out, he looked up at the terrified Mirai (had he screamed in pain when he fell?) and gave her an order.

"Go! Run outside and yell, 'help'! Go Mirai!"