Disclaimer: I think we all know by now that I don't own Naruto, and I'm only doing this as a fan-made, non-profit project for fun and writing critique. Please support the Naruto franchise by buying volumes of the manga and watching the anime. We don't want Masashi to feel like we don't love him.

(Long intro incoming.)

INTRODUCTION: Okay, a lot of clarifying is going to happen in this chapter. And I mean a lot. (Okay, maybe not that much.) I've already gotten a shit-ton of messages from people pointing out issues or things they don't understand, half of which I already know (and would rather not hear about again :3) and a few things that I didn't realize I hadn't covered, the latter of which were not as confusing, and can be easily taken care of in future updates). So let me tell you what we WILL be covering today! If you care.

After a few chapter updates, I suddenly realized I hadn't clarified much of Shikamaru's problems, other than the fact that he's clinically depressed. But having just that is BORING, right~? I was kind of disappointed that no one expressed a need to know the full story behind Shikamaru. I feel like he's the least popular, and he shouldn't be. Another problem that was mentioned to me by my friend (who was the only person to mention this) was that she thought Shikamaru was too mature. When he started out in the Naruto manga, he was smart, but he was very childish, and still had a lot of things to learn, not really hitting maturity hard until Asuma died. The Shikamaru in this story has from the get-go been far more similar to the Shikamaru after Asuma dies and he gets his revenge. You know, the Shikamaru that told Naruto to stop sulking when Jiraiya died. However, in this chapter, you will see that rather than progressing into maturity like the original Shika, he is beginning to regress into childishness. Actually, rather I should say, he is regressing from calm, cool, and mysterious to fearful and unsure. Which is always fun in my book.

Another thing that's going to happen? Some explanation on Sasuke's social life coupled with the entrance of Sakura! Some people have pointed out to me something I already knew about beforehand; that Sasuke should not be that popular with the ladies considering he's a cross-dresser. While technically that's not true, considering that most women nowadays jump all over gay/transgender/transsexual men, for the sake of the story which deals completely with rational reasons for everything, I'm going to use Sakura's entrance into the story as a full-time character as a crutch to explain why he's so beloved.

Somebody called to my attention also that a list I'd made earlier in the intro of one chapter, a list that told what character-expo chapters I was going to do next, ended up being violated. Well, you guys should already know my planning sucks. That very same person also reminded me of something else … (By the way, if you're reading this, you can't review anonymously. I couldn't respond to your questions and it pissed me off. I lahv you. :3) In the future, I will be trying to more rapidly introduce characters, including: Gai-sensei! (whom the aforementioned person reminded me of), Kankuro, Gaara, Lee, Temari, Neji, and Akatsuki. Neji probably won't come in until after Lee, and will be accompanied by Tenten, I'm sure. Same with Gai. I've already started developing some ideas for introducing Deidara and Hidan, so be patient. The Akatsuki will become integral, and will help move the plot along.

My last note: I hope the story will take a supernatural turn, what do you think? Let me know in a PM. Sorry for the long intro—let's get right down to the nitty-gritty now, alright? (Also, the beginning of the chap is a bit crap, but bear with it.) Enjoy.

(XXX)

"Hey, Shika …" Kiba started suddenly. He hesitated with a sip of his drink, looking out over the mall's food court.

Dark eyebrows twitched downwards at this nickname, but other than that, Kiba received patient silence.

"Well, you know, you seem like a pretty well-adjusted guy … you know, by society's standards." This time only one brow arched in response. "I'm just …" Kiba sighed. "Still wondering why you're spending your time with freak-shows like us."

Shikamaru knew what he meant by "us." He leaned back in his chair and, since Kiba was already claiming the whole floor of the food court with his nervous gaze, Shikamaru turned sharp eyes to the ceiling, braving the fluorescent lights. "… That's not something I want to talk about in a public place."

"Like you'd talk about it even if we were somewhere private."

Looking back down, Shikamaru found Kiba's piercing stare upon him, his brooding mouth occupied by his straw. Though he entertained the thought of denying this, Shikamaru wasn't dumb enough to actually try.

And if they were already friends, then … why did keeping his secrets matter so much?

"The walls have ears, and there are some things I don't want them hearing." As he looked around, Shikamaru's gaze drew to Kiba's attention the quiet stares of several other groups of children. They'd already been singled out and made fun of once on their way to the food court, by some kids who still held a grudge against Kiba for being … whatever he was. The wounded expression that beset him suited his wolfish appearance.

"Well, yeah, but … Come on, it can't be that bad. With head-cases like me, Naruto, and Sasuke, we've heard it all, right?" he shrugged. "Can't get much worse. I mean, it's not like you're gonna tell me you can see ghosts or some shit. Well, I mean, you could, but then that'd just be ..."

Giving him an unreadable look, Shikamaru said, "True, I guess."

"Then spill it!" Kiba said with an excited look.

"Seriously, though, not here," the lazy boy groaned. "We've had enough trouble without some Konoha preps thinking we're crazier than we already are."

"What's this about being crazy?" a sweet voice said in approach. Both boys turned and met with shining, green eyes and a friendly smile.

They stared uncomprehendingly for a while until Kiba snapped and cried, "Oh, you're that one chick! You were in my old biology class. Um …" Kiba said dumbly, grasping for a name.

"Haruno," she said. "Haruno Sakura."

That name was dreadfully familiar. Like a demon from hell, memories of her rained down in a scalding torrent of past awkward hallway encounters, long-gone insults towards his popularity and lineage, and the never-failing locker door slammed on his fingers in a drive-by attempt to annoy. These little bits of memories were fractured, scattered throughout his brain, but in all of them he could see her long pink hair swaying as she left him in each bad memory with a smirk.

He couldn't remember much about her with his fragmented memory, but most of what he did was bad. Like the young group of girls that had always surrounded her, like a protective ring, safely transporting her to and from each minor act of heckling—like an unbreakable confidence.

However, right now, there was nobody around her.

"You look … different," Kiba noted, pushing aside his bad feelings in order to give her a once-over. She still looked the same as when he'd seen her, with her girlish smile, wide forehead, and thin figure. But something was missing …

"You cut your hair?" When he noticed, Shikamaru's eyes widened a fraction.

"That's what's different," Kiba murmured, remembering the accursed hair-flips she used to give with every entrance and exit.

There was a twinge of uneasiness in the way Sakura playfully fluffed the ends of her pink locks in response. "You like?"

"You've always had long hair, though," he said, unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

"Well," she said with a hard swallow, "Guess it was time for a change."

In the moment before large tears welled up in her eyes, Kiba saw that something else was missing, something from her eyes, sadness replacing it for the sake of filling the hole left behind.

"You two were handing out fliers a couple weeks ago," she managed after regaining a little of her composure, her eyes cast at the floor. Shikamaru and Kiba shared a dark glance. "Do you … still happen to have one?"

"No," Shikamaru said flatly, causing her to go rigid. Staring in surprise, Kiba had to wonder what beef Shikamaru had with the girl before them.

"But," Kiba saved, "I can give you the phone number that's on the flier. Shika, paper and pen."

"I don't have any."

"Well go get some," Kiba said, glancing over at Sakura for a moment.

"Where am I supposed to find that kind of thing?"

"I don't know, go buy it or something."

Sighing, Shikamaru stood and stretched out his hunched back and shoulders, popping his neck. He left, presumably to go find writing utensils.

"If it's too much trouble—" Sakura called to Shikamaru.

"It's fine," Kiba interrupted. "He's lazy, but he'll live." He gestured to an empty seat. "Sit down."

Turning glittering green eyes on Kiba before nervously eyeing the chair, she made some kind of noise in response and sat down, resting her fidgeting fingers on the table. Both of them watched her hands shake and pick at each other on the tabletop, lost for words. Talking with her, when their exchanges went so poorly in the past, did not come naturally to Kiba. In fact, under normal circumstances, he would have sent her away with a glare and preferably never talked to her again. He's always assumed he would be the polar opposite of a person like her. But seeing her now, they clearly had one thing in common.

When her movements kick-started his nerves, unable to find the words to command her to stop, he placed a large tan hand over her small white fingers, afraid for a moment that his would crush them. Misunderstanding his intentions, her eyes filled once more and as she hung her head in crying, clutched his hand in hers. Only a simple explanation could have enlightened her to his true intentions, and kept them apart, just like they'd been all this time. Almost completely unknowing of each other, so much so that he could hardly remember anything but her face, hair, and the trifling things she'd done.

But he let her imagination run with the concept that he might be trying to comfort her, consciously unknowing himself why the only thing he could think to do was try and stop her trembling hands from moving.

(XXX)

A few days earlier, Sakura had been sitting at her desk after school, closing her green eyes against the onslaught of anger that accompanied that annoying voice.

"Hey, bill-board brow. Waiting for Sasuke again?"

Somehow she managed to summon enough control over herself to respond calmly and with a struggling smile, "Yes, I am."

Ever since Sakura had taken Sasuke to the nurse's office to make sure he wasn't ill, he'd nearly disappeared off the face of the Earth. Weeks had rolled by and she hadn't even caught a glimpse of him, which had to be impossible, because they had several classes together. She decided to come super early to the first class they had together in the day, and wait for him, all the while thoughts spinning around in her head. Had she been too forward with him? Did he hate her? Yeah, he definitely had to. No one could like someone pushy like her, forcing him to go to the nurse's office with her.

She had to will down the knot in her throat. She was always suppressing herself like this.

Actually, if she had someone to blame, it was the very same person she was waiting for and thinking about. Before she met Sasuke, she was popular, well-loved, and had no shortage of ways to take out her boiling emotions. After all, if you're at the top of the food chain, what does it matter if you break a few eggs below you? You can slam a few lockers in students' faces, knock their lunch off the table, step on them just a li-ttle. Just that much could help relieve the tension of a day.

Though, Sakura was also aware that her current situation was not his fault. Sasuke was fairly popular, and caught the eye of many ladies—though they'd rather die than admit it. Many girls set heartfelt wishes on him despite his skirt, who chased him down and asked him for advice on girly things, like what outfits are the cutest and what makeup goes best with a certain shirt. Not like Sasuke ever bothered to reply to these insulting inquiries.

The reason Sakura in particular admired Sasuke was because he was indisputably masculine and amazing, unimpeded by choice of dress. He talked like a man, acted like a man, and though he was admittedly feminine, he still looked like a man, too. His voice was deep and soothing, he was great at sports (when he could be convinced to "waste time" playing them, as he put it) and he could probably bench-press more than anyone in school. And on top of all that, he was an ace student. Those onyx eyes viewed the world with such a dark intensity, as if either pulling everything into him, or pushing it away. He had incredible control over himself and the atmosphere around him. Sakura wanted to be like that. She wanted to be as smart as he was, as talented, as graceful, like a shining star. He was everything she wished she could live up to.

Pulling herself out of the depths of her thoughts, Sakura's smile immediately shifted to a glare, aimed at the person who'd been bothering her. "You're waiting for him too, aren't you, Ino-pig?"

The saucy blonde flipped her hair, looking down on Sakura with barely-disguised malice in her bright blue eyes. The shape of her face, her skin, everything was perfect. The exact opposite of the oddly-proportioned girl Sakura had turned out to be, with her shocking pink hair and wide brow. "As if. I already have a man, so why bother waiting for another?"

Sakura shrugged, feeling an overwhelming surge of weary hopelessness. She hated dealing with Ino. That blonde bitch would sometimes follow her around several classes, pestering her, bullying her, and making fun of her. To some extent, Sakura believed she deserved it for the similar unkind things she'd done to other people. Ino had always been popular, but kind. Everybody loved how pretty, sociable, talented, and amazing she was. In fact, Sakura might have tried so hard to join the in-crowd because she was jealous of Ino.

But there were some people even Ino held a grudge against.

"Of course, I guess he's not a man if he's practically a woman on the inside," Ino said with a smirk, knowing just how to get under Sakura's skin.

The red-hot shock from those words forced Sakura out of her seat. With unbelievably cold eyes she ground out, "Take it back."

She remembered the day Sasuke saved her from her selfishness. Once in the lunchroom, she had poured a carton of milk all over a young, ugly girl's head, smashed the carton down on top of her skull, and poured the girl's food down her own shirt. Her entourage had been in tow, laughing it up alongside her, until as they were walking away, Sasuke, who happened to be passing by, tossed his water bottle at her feet while she was too busy giggling to notice. She stepped on the water bottle, tripped, and landed flat on her back on the floor. He loomed over her, spat out something like "worthless" and dumped his own food garbage on top of her before leaving the lunchroom.

The humiliation had been brutal, but it had also awakened something in her. A feeling that she hadn't felt in a long time—one that reminded her of who she really was, and showed her the awful person she was trying to be. From that day on, she'd sworn to change everything, even her hair. Now she sometimes had trouble remembering what life had been like on the "greener" side of the grass. But then again, for her, those times were easily forgettable—unimportant. So remembering them didn't matter.

Sasuke had strength. Honor. Integrity. Everything Sakura wanted to have.

So, that's why she had no choice.

"Take back what you said about Sasuke."

The only thing she could see was her own rage, swimming in front of her eyes at high frequencies, like red strings vibrating over and over. So mad over such a small thing, such a difference from that hopelessness she had just been feeling. Being made to feel like there was something wrong with Sasuke, something wrong with admiring him, for being concerned about his well-being. Like somehow, he was inferior.

Like somehow, Sakura was inferior because of it.

Sometimes I think I hurt you the most, Ino.

"I said, take it back."

"Why don't you make me?" Ino sneered.

Say, Ino. Do you remember …

With a mighty heave, Sakura picked up a chair and swung it at that perfect, porcelain face.

When we used to be friends?

(XXX)

Every time something big happened in their friendship, the cherry blossoms were blooming. In fact, they'd met under the swaying branches of a sakura tree that divided the miles between their houses in perfect symmetry. Chasing a brown bunny up the hill that led to the stunning natural landmark, Sakura never expected to find the first friend she'd ever had.

Even back then, Ino's eight-year-old face was already picture perfect. That face, smiling at Sakura in surprise as they both came up the hill at the same time from opposite sides—that face was the first thing Sakura always saw. They'd both caught sight of the bunny fleeing, and only after a few minutes of running did Sakura realize, that she had someone beside her, laughing as they ran, and that she herself was laughing too. They never caught the rabbit, but they pinky-promised that they would meet up the next day under the sakura tree, to look for rabbits again. Only the next day, when they discarded the thought of chasing rabbits for playing together, did they learn each other's names.

The next spring, Ino taught Sakura about flowers.

Gently, Ino drew a small purple flower from the earth, and showed it to Sakura. "… And this flower is called a 'cosmo.'" She tucked the stem in her now shoulder-length blonde hair, smiling at Sakura. "I bet it looks pretty on me, doesn't it?"

With a giggle, Sakura said, "It really does! You sure know a lot about flowers, Ino."

"My family runs a flower-shop in town, so I've learned a ton of cool things about flowers!" She began plucking other small flowers from the grass. "Like, this flower is—" She stilled as she caught a glimpse of Sakura's face. "What's wrong?"

"Well, it's just …" With her arms around her knees, pulling them close to her chest, Sakura's expression was sullen. She stared at the colorful petals swaying among the green grass. "Ino always looks really pretty, and has a lot of friends. Compared to you, I'm …" She hid her face behind her knees.

Ino stared at her friend for a moment, then searched the grass around them until she found a bud, plucking it from the earth. She held it out for Sakura to see. "Look."

Sakura tentatively raised her head and looked at the bud in Ino's hand.

"Sakura-chan, right now you're like this bud. You haven't matured enough yet to bloom, and so you stay hidden in your shell. But as spring comes for the cherry blossoms," she turned and looked at the sakura tree close behind them. Sakura's gaze followed. "You too will bloom. And when you do …" She gave Sakura a radiant smile. "You'll be more beautiful than all the other flowers."

With the encouragement of those words, Sakura passed blissfully through two more springs.

Then, at age eleven, while playing hide and seek with Ino and a couple friends she'd invited, Sakura, who'd successfully stayed hidden even when everyone else was found, changed her hiding spot, managing to sneak behind the sakura tree. Everyone had congregated close by, and were chatting amongst themselves, presumably contemplating their next move. Stifling a storm of giggles that threatened to bubble out of her throat, Sakura planned to jump out and surprise them, saying "I won!"

But when she was about to do so, she heard one of them say her name. Listening close to catch what they were saying, she pressed herself against the tree and dared to peek out just a bit.

"She's just so annoying!" one girl was saying. "And how ugly can you get? That forehead is so wide, and her face is so stupid."

"We should just let her hide, and ditch her," another girl snickered.

"Hey, that's my friend you're talking about," Ino snapped. "There's nothing wrong with Sakura."

"Well, you need a new friend, Ino," the first girl said. "Sakura has to go. Now come on, let's go do something else."

Everyone began walking away, except for Ino, who stayed behind, standing in place for a few moments. Then she turned and walked towards the tree, leaning around it to look at Sakura, who was now sitting with her back against the trunk.

"It's okay, Sakura. They're just idiots. I still think you're the best."

That's true, Sakura had thought to herself, and took comfort in those words. But somewhere in the pit of her stomach, she wondered why the thoughts of others felt so much more important.

Three more springs passed, and the day when the tree was at its brightest, Sakura and Ino had their first fight, a petty squabble over a handsome boy.

"I know you're pretty and popular, so it can't be helped that he would notice you," Sakura said. Her eyes filled with rage. "But you knew that I like him, and yet you still asked him out."

"I knew you would act like this, so that's why I didn't tell you," Ino countered.

"So how long were you planning to keep it hidden?" Sakura yelled. "What do you take me for, an idiot?"

"You're certainly acting like an idiot right now!"

Sakura forgot about that boy in a few weeks. But she never forgot how angry she was at Ino. For being perfect, for being popular—for being wanted. A month later at school, she met the sleazy boy who promised to help her get what she wanted.

The next spring was when everything ended. Sakura and Ino sat beneath the sakura tree, and Ino had only just finished telling Sakura how busy and distant she was lately, asking her why she was so cold, wondering if she'd done something wrong. With a shrug, Sakura replied, "I have new friends. I just don't have time for you anymore." And for a while, she savored the bitter, wounded look Ino wore as she left the hill for the last time.

Once after that, reminiscent, Sakura visited the hill again to see if Ino still hung out there since they'd stopped talking. She had vague, buried wishes of patching things up.

She stopped in front of the hill, only to find that the tree had been cut down.

For a split second, Sakura wondered why seeing it made her sad.

(XXX)

Shikamaru watched Chouji pace in circles around the floor, arms filled with random food he was munching on anxiously. He'd never seen the chubby man so deathly pale before. Leaning his chin on his elbow, Shikamaru listened to the hospital secretary droning in his ear, feigning indifference. "Mhm. Yes, I understand. Alright. Thank you very much." He hung up and stood, stretching his stiff muscles.

Immediately, Chouji attacked him. "What'd they say? Is Ino alright?"

"She's got a slight concussion, but is recuperating well, so you can go ahead and visit her at the hospital," Shikamaru said. He took the food items from Chouji's arms one by one. "Now stop eating. If you don't quit, you'll probably get nervous and throw up when you see her in a hospital bed."

"Oh God," Chouji moaned, grasping for his food, which Shikamaru moved just out of his reach. "In a hospital bed. I hadn't even imagined …!"

Patting him on the back, his friend said, "Then don't imagine it."

"You have to come with me, Shikamaru!" Chouji begged. "I need emotional support!"

"I already told you, Chouji, I have something to do tonight," Shikamaru said. He walked into the kitchen with Chouji's food, and began putting everything away.

Chouji followed him. "Can't you just cancel it? Ino's in the hospital, for God's sake. What if I get there and she's in a coma? What if she has brain damage? If that happens, what am I supposed to do without you there?"

"You'll deal with it," Shikamaru said finality. "You have to start dealing with stressful situations on your own. That means without me," he slapped Chouji's hand as he reached toward the cupboard, "and your food."

Glaring, Chouji said hotly, "Well, it's not like you're doing anything more important."

Eyes sharpening, the sharp-browed boy countered, "I told you, I have plans."

"Yeah, I've heard about your 'plans,'" Chouji made quotation marks in the air with his fingers. "You're only planning on hanging out with some kid from your therapy group, right? You see him every fuckin' week. Your friend's in the hospital. I think you've mixed up your priorities."

Shikamaru's eyes narrowed even further. To him, the air felt electric in a way Chouji could never understand. "This isn't simply 'hanging out.' It's something I've been putting off, that I can't put off anymore."

"Man, you're always so fuckin' cryptic," Chouji said. "It's hard to believe you when you don't even tell me what's going on."

"There are some things only crazy people understand," Shikamaru said, patting Chouji on the shoulder as he walked past him. "Unfortunately, you're not crazy enough. Besides, the first person Ino should see is you. You're her boyfriend—she needs you, not me."

"But you're her friend. She needs you too," Chouji argued.

"Yes," Shikamaru held up a finger, "But at a later date. Since you're her boyfriend, she trusts you. Which means, she's more likely to tell you how she got in the hospital in the first place."

"Why wouldn't she?"

Shikamaru's eyes were dark. "Because apparently, it was bad enough that the secretary said it was information she couldn't give me over the phone."

Leaving Chouji to stunned silence, Shikamaru sauntered into the living room and plopped down on the couch. Frowning, he stood up and removed the cushion, then picked up a thin, laminated book with a flexible black cover. There were no markings to indicate what was inside, or what the book was for. Flipping it open, he saw pictures of …

He flipped through the photos in surprise. "My parents?"

The photos had to be recent, because he wasn't in any of them, and they mostly consisted of photos from one family reunion. He looked up at Chouji with an expression that said, "Do you know anything about this?"

Chouji shifted nervously. "Somebody dropped this off in our mail-slot after the mailman had already come. You were gone, so I decided to check it, and saw all the pictures in there." Rubbing the back of his neck, his eyes shifted to the far wall. "I know you're not crazy about your folks, so when you came home, I panicked and shoved it under the seat cushions."

Turning back to the book, Shikamaru looked through pictures of smiling relatives, colorfully-decorated holiday dinner tables, and friendly hugs. For a moment, he wondered angrily if this was his mother's way of showing off that they didn't need him, trying to goad him into coming back. However, after looking closely at a few photos, he realized that something was wrong.

He pulled out his wallet, and plucked a worn picture from the folds. Surrounded by family, on his fourteenth birthday, nobody was looking at the camera, rather laughing at Shikamaru. His mother had pulled a birthday hat over his head at a jaunty angle while he leaned on his elbow, brooding at the pink cake in front of him, which was decorated with flowers. This was the last picture Shikamaru could remember having taken with his family.

He held it up to one of the photos in the book and compared. Then he turned the page and held another photo in comparison. After going through a few more pictures, he realized, I was right.

Compared to his birthday photo, every picture in the laminated black book was strangely grim. Even though all the décor in the background was cheery, and everyone posed like they were having a great time, Shikamaru found that every smile was forced, every muscle was tense, and everyone looked tired.

After turning over a certain page, a white scrap of paper fell from the book and onto the floor. He picked it up to take a look. Scrawled in a familiar mess that could only be his father's hand-writing, the note read, 'We're not the same without you.'

"The old man's getting sentimental," Shikamaru muttered, throwing the note and the book on the kitchen counter. Not like he didn't appreciate the gesture, or miss his father—and his mother, for that matter—but the time had long since passed when he could live comfortably with them. In fact, he'd already forgiven his mother, and wanted to make amends with her.

But, now there were other reasons why he could not return.

Shikamaru looked up as Chouji began gathering together the things he planned to take to Ino. Leaning against the counter, nervously rubbing his neck and looking at the far wall, he muttered, "You really have to leave this early?"

Chouji sent him another hot glare. "And you really have to hang out with your buddy at a time like this?"

For a moment, Shikamaru didn't say anything, and Chouji took it as defeat, turning back to his collection of items. He was startled when he heard Shikamaru hiss from across the room, "What the fuck is your problem with me?"

"What the fuck is your problem?" Chouji snapped. "It's not enough that you want to neglect Ino for one of your new fucked-up friends—" Shikamaru twitched at that, "—but now you want to keep me away longer, too?"

"I'm asking you to stay, because you know what goes on in this house," Shikamaru said darkly.

Blanching, Chouji tried to brush off the comment by scoffing, "Is that why you're meeting with this kid? What are you gonna tell him, then? You really think he's going to believe you?"

Eyes narrowing in a mixture of pain and anger, with his jaw working, Shikamaru said, "You know what? Fine. A person like you, with no worries or sin, wouldn't have to be concerned about this kind of thing." He turned and picked up the photo book again, a token that once long ago, his family hadn't believed in him either.

"Fine," Chouji ground out. He angrily grabbing up the things he'd collected, shoved them into his book-bag, and threw it over his shoulder as he stormed out of their apartment, slamming the door behind him.

Scratching his head, Shikamaru wondered why their friendship had come to this. Their argument wasn't just out of the blue, provoked purely by emotions—surely they were both being emotional, but this fight had been in the makings for a long time. Ever since Shikamaru had started therapy, and began taking time to hang out with Kiba, Chouji had become easily angered, judgmental, and defensive when confronted about these recent bad habits. Normally, Shikamaru might be a little more sympathetic, under the assumption that he was just not spending enough time with the person he called his best friend, but it seemed like whenever Chouji made negative comments, it was always associated towards Shikamaru not being available to do something for him. Like, "Nobody was there to help me when I had to make brownies for the party," or "I can't believe I had to do that history assignment all by myself! How am I supposed to understand the material without you?" Not like Shikamaru particularly minded being needed, but it felt like Chouji never really wanted Shikamaru to spend time with him, rather he just wanted his friend to do things for him.

Maybe, Shikamaru thought as he moved back to the couch and laid down, that was why he'd recently taken to hanging out with Kiba so much. When they hung out, they just … hung out. Sometimes it was at the mall, sometimes it was at the park, or at the therapy sessions, but no matter what, they did normal things that friends do. They talked, played games, and over all just lazed around. Kiba reminded him that he was still a kid, and had the right to be one, without having to worry about bills or life in general. And most of all, Kiba was interested in learning about Shikamaru's troubled past. Except for Kiba, everyone in his life had either not believed him when he tried to plead his case regarding his criminal history, or didn't know a thing and just laid back waiting for him to tell them. Nobody really wanted to know, or cared when they heard.

That's why this was important to Shikamaru. He'd forgotten what it felt like to have any worth other than his paycheck. So even though he agreed that it was selfish to put off taking care of Ino, he wanted to do this one thing for himself.

That's why …

He perked his ears and turned around as he heard the sound of something scraping on wood behind him. The only thing directly behind him was a small end-table pushed up against the wall with a lamp on top of it that Ino had given them as a housewarming gift.

Was it his imagination, or had the lamp moved a few inches?

He stared at it, etching the lamp and its position into his mind with short, jerky movements of his eyes, and felt the apprehension slowly die down inside of him. He turned back around and looked at the far wall, breathing a sigh of relief.

Then the hairs on the back of his neck stood up as he heard the scrape behind him once more. He whipped around to find the lamp was now on the edge of the table, slowly tipping over as if somebody were pushing it.

He scrambled over the back of the couch just as the lamp started falling and managed to catch it, tentatively placing the fixture back in its place. He ran a hand through his hair, eyes darting around the room, as if he would actually see something. He still had a half an hour before Kiba was supposed to meet him, and already there were abnormal things happening.

"Maybe I should get a drink," Shikamaru muttered to himself. Maybe some water would calm his nerves. He backed up towards the kitchen counter, keeping his eyes on everything he could in the room, not wanting to look away. When he ran into the counter, he reluctantly turned around and grabbed himself a glass from the cupboard, filling it with water. He glanced over at the fridge, thinking maybe he should get something to eat, too, and eventually grabbed a plate, went to the fridge, and got out some leftovers. As he heated them up in the microwave he gave the room another once-over warily, straining his ears to hear anything unusual. The only thing he heard was the beeping of the microwave to tell him his food was ready.

Taking the plate from the microwave, he grabbed himself some silverware and allowed himself to relax a little. Just thirty minutes. He only had to wait that long, and then Kiba would show up, and these bad feelings and weird happenings would cease. He picked up his glass of water and turned his back on the counter, making his way towards the couch.

As soon as he turned away, a pair of hands from behind sent him toppling to the floor. His glass hit the floor with a sound thud, spilling water all over the carpet, and his plate sent food sprawling under the couch. He jumped to his feet and spun around, searching the walls frantically.

Where…?!

Something hit him in the back of the head, forcing him to his knees again, and landed with a thump next to him. He looked over and saw it was the photo book. Grabbing it quickly, he staggered to his feet and without even bothering to grab his hoodie, ran out of the apartment, shutting and locking it tight. He slid down the railing of the stairs leading up to his floor and pulled out his cell, texting Kiba furiously.

Change of plans—we're meeting at my parents' house. Don't come to the apartment. I'll explain later.

Then he gave him the address, sent the message, and quickly pocketed his phone as he ran down the street.

(XXX)

Kiba pulled up in front of the apartment complex on a stunningly bright-pink bike that Hana had given him as a joke his last birthday after the whole subject of sexuality was a little less tender. He looked up at the building and remarked to himself with unease that it was a pretty slummy place. Not that Kiba minded—Shikamaru had already warned him that their apartment was a little trashy. But looking at the complex now, he was gradually becoming worried for his friend. By the looks of the place, it probably wasn't very well-maintained, and if this was the best he could afford, what was Shikamaru's financial situation like?

Shaking these thoughts from his head, he looked for a bike rack. Shikamaru had said there should be one nearby. However, after looking for about five minutes, he couldn't seem to find it, so he just chained it to a post and started up the stairs.

He dug his phone out of his pocket, planning to call his mother, who asked him to check in once he got to Shikamaru's house. Shikamaru had been over once for dinner and somehow left a bad impression on her, and apparently now she thought he was some type of maniac. She'd asked that Kiba call when he got there, and call when he left, which she ordered would be after exactly two hours spent at his friend's house. He thought to himself bitterly that it was a fine time for her to be playing 'mommy' now after how neurotic she'd been for a while after he was attacked, but he'd agreed in the end.

When he pulled the red and black-skinned phone from his pocket, he nearly accidentally ripped off the keychain he'd affixed to it. On the end of it, there was a little worn-out plastic Rottweiler. This was another present he received as a joke from his sister, which she claimed would make him look more rough-and-tumble. He always swore he would throw it away, but for some reason, he couldn't bring himself to do it. Maybe that was because she also claimed that it was the keychain their father had gotten for her when she first started going to school and needed a duplicate of the house key.

He moved to turn on the phone, but then stopped himself and shoved it back in his pocket with a cocky smirk, thinking, Forget the old bat, then! Do her some good to get a little worried once in a while!

He plodded up one flight of steps and looked for Shikamaru's apartment door. He said it was on the second floor, the first door on the right. He found it when he saw a mailbox next to the first door with Shikamaru's name on it.

He leaned forward to look at the label, muttering to himself, "Akimichi Chouji, eh? So he has a roommate?"

Shrugging, Kiba rapped on the door quickly and then shifted his weight to one foot as he stood waiting. He sniffed, the smell of some kind of food coming from inside. This ignited his hopes that Shikamaru would treat him to some dinner, seeing as how his stomach was rumbling pitifully.

However, no sound came from inside. Even when he listened closely, Kiba could not hear any footsteps approaching the door.

Nobody's in? That can't be right. I know I have the right time …

He began to pull his phone back out to confirm that he hadn't made a mistake, when he saw the door swing open. However, nobody was standing in the doorway. No one seemed to be there at all. And also, there was a broken lamp lying on the floor just inside.

"No way," Kiba said. "Did somebody break in?" Panicking, he turned the door handle from the outside to check the lock.

Huh?

The handle turned smoothly, and the lock was fully intact. There were only a few scratches on the side of the door where the lock would be able to click into place, but that only meant the door had been well-used. Nothing was damaged, or seemed out of place.

Confused, Kiba crept into the doorway, and looked around the corner into the room. The overhead light was on, but it was flickering. And standing beneath it, in the middle of the room, was a dark-skinned woman with pinkish-red hair standing there in scuffed-up jeans with her back turned to the door. Even though she was a ways away, he could hear her breathing heavily. Her body was unearthly still.

His eyes swept over the rest of the room, but he couldn't seem to find anybody else but her. But who was she? He knew this was Shikamaru's room, so … She couldn't be Chouji, right? And there was something unnerving about her. Something about the heavy smell in the air that told him something was wrong.

Tentatively and with a pounding heart, he called out to her. "U-um … excuse me, I'm looking for someone …"

She twitched and the light suddenly stopped flickering, burning steadily brighter and brighter as her head slowly turned around. Smoke started to come from the bulb, as if the glass itself were actually burning, making a high-pitched whine as the dark face gradually came farther and farther into view …

Until he met with translucent yellow eyes and a smile dripping blood, and the bulb exploded, sending glass skittering across the room and smoke pouring from the light fixture. Kiba scrambled back against the railing of the balcony outside the room.

He couldn't see anything but bright white for a few moments, blinking his eyes painfully to try and regain his vision. His heart had skipped a beat, and as he lay gasping for breath, the sight of the ceiling told him his vision was finally starting to come back, when he heard a distorted voice—

Come here, little boooy~.

Claw-like fingers dug into the right leg of his jeans and a powerful grip pulled him with one swift yank into the pitch-black room. He yelped and dug into the carpet with his fingernails and tried to drag himself back towards the door, struggling against the hold on his legs that caused him to lose his grip several times. He panted and wheezed, his fingers hurting, clawing his way towards the open door. But no matter how hard he struggled, he was constantly being jerked back towards the unnatural darkness that waited within the apartment, the sound of a laughing woman filling his ears.

When she tried to grab at his torso, he unconsciously kicked at her. He heard a grunt in response, accompanied by a loose grip. He wasted no time in taking advantage of the situation and scrambled towards the door, nearly making it out before she grabbed onto his foot again. However, he managed to get a hold on the wall of the doorway before she could reel him back in and she ripped off his shoe instead.

He shot to his feet, darted out the door, and slammed it shut just as he saw her shadowed figure lunge for him. She bounced off the door, and when he heard her hit the floor with a yowl, he sprang for the steps, tripping down the third one and rolling to the bottom, where he immediately jumped to his feet again and ran for his bike. As he hastily unchained it, his fingers fumbling with the lock, he saw that his fingernails were cracked and bleeding, and felt a thick wet line trickle down the side of his face, which he hoped to God was just sweat.

He managed to get the bike unchained and hopped onto it, pedaling madly away without looking back. He struggled to get his phone out of his pocket, the only thought in his mind that he needed to call the police, or call Shikamaru, or just do something. He turned the phone on and to his surprise, there was a text message from Shikamaru, from about ten minutes before Kiba had arrived at the apartment.

It read, Change of plans—we're meeting at my parents' house. Don't come to the apartment. I'll explain later. Here's the address.

The police could wait, Kiba decided as he shifted his course towards the destination Shikamaru had detailed. He had a feeling Shikamaru's explanation would have something to do with the things he'd just experienced.

(XXX)

"It's rare of you to come visit, Shikamaru," Yoshino said as she laid out dinner with a tight expression. "You sure you can't eat dinner with us?"

Groaning inwardly, Shikamaru wondered if his mother really even missed him at all. "I already told you, I can't today. I couldn't meet my friend at the apartment, so I figured I'd meet him here and drop in at the same time. Kill two birds with one stone."

The dishes clattered roughly on the table. "Hmph. He's pretty late, though, don't you think? Maybe he didn't get the message, and is at your apartment right now?"

Shikamaru's face went so ghostly white at this notion that Shikaku stood from his place at the dinner table and put a hand on Shikamaru's shoulder, gently guiding him into the adjacent seat.

"Come on. We'll treat him to dinner when he gets here too, so you can take your time and relax as well."

He said Shikamaru could relax, but all the young man could think about is the possibility that Kiba really had gone to the apartment, and what might have happened to him there.

Yoshino took no notice of his state, and with an air of satisfaction declared, "I'm still finishing up with some of the cooking. Go ahead and start eating what's already here." Then she walked into the kitchen with her head held high.

As soon as she was gone, Shikaku tapped Shikamaru's hand, snapping him out of his reverie. "I see you brought the photos with you."

Finally remembering what was in his hand, Shikamaru looked down at the little black book. "Ah … yeah."

His father looked at him expectantly. "And you got my note?"

Shikamaru nodded dumbly, but didn't say anything.

"Shikamaru." His son didn't respond. "Don't you think it's about time you came home? I think your mother is at the place where she can apologize, so let's work this out."

Sighing, Shikamaru leaned his head on his hand and rubbed one of his temples. "I … I would like to. I really would, old man. I mean, I don't even want an apology anymore. I think I'm ready to say sorry myself. I've been ready for a long time."

Shikaku put a hand over his and squeezed it. "Then why didn't you tell us?"

Looking his father in the eyes for the first time in nearly a year, Shikamaru answered, "I wanted to be able to say that I didn't need anyone."

"Why?"

"Because the more people I bring into my life, the deeper the hole gets, until everyone will suffer."

"You're exaggerating—" Shikaku began to say, but he was cut off by the sound of heavy beating on the door. Both father and son sprang from their seats and looked at each other. Yoshino came into the dining room, asking, "What the hell is that noise?"

Running quickly to the door, Shikamaru threw it open, and saw Kiba standing there, shaking, pale, with blood spatters on his shirt and red lines running down the side of his face.

"Kiba, what—?"

Shikamaru saw Kiba's eyes roll back in his head and his knees give out, and caught him quickly, pulling him gently into the house and shutting the door, then lowered him to the floor. By the way he was panting and wheezing, losing all control over his breath, Shikamaru knew Kiba was having another panic attack. Tears were rolling down that tan face and he grasped weakly at Shikamaru's shirt. He had to get Kiba under control, or the man might have a heart attack.

Yoshino walked into the room as "Shikamaru, was it your friend at the door—?" She covered her mouth and gave a small shriek when she saw the bloodied teen shaking in Shikamaru's arms.

Running in after hearing her cry, Shikaku asked, "What's going on?!"

"Be quiet," Shikamaru hissed at the both of them. He looked at his mother, who was trembling. "Go get the first aid kit and a wet wash-cloth."

"No! No, we have to call an ambulance!" she pleaded with a shaky voice.

"Don't," Shikamaru insisted. "Just do what I asked. You have to trust me—I'll deal with it."

For what felt like the first time ever, Yoshino actually looked to her husband for guidance, even though she usually brazenly made her own decisions and pushed him until he was passive and agreed with everything she said. But this time, when he nodded to her in assurance, she listened to him, and wordlessly ran to get the first-aid kit.

Shikaku knelt down by his son as the young man he'd considered his lazy, mellow son for so many years cradle Kiba and rock him back and forth like one would a child, whispering, "Breathe in; breathe out. It's alright, I'm here."

Quickly his mother returned with the kit, just as Kiba began to suck in each lungful of air at a regular pace. Carefully, Shikamaru helped his friend over to the couch, and after Kiba was seated Shikamaru took the kit from his mother, sat on the coffee table in front of the couch, and went to work on the side of Kiba's face with the wash-cloth.

"Mom, this is my friend Inuzuka Kiba," to whom he said, "Are you dizzy or faint?"

Swallowing hard a few times, Kiba responded in a gravelly voice, "No. Not right now." He winced as Shikamaru found the source of the bleeding and gently dabbed at the cut on his head.

"Good." Observing the wound, Shikamaru decided to pull out the gauze and bandages. The cut didn't seem to be very deep, but a simple band-aid definitely wasn't going to cover it. He began applying the gauze and wrapping a bandage around Kiba's head while continuing to question him. "Are you hurting anywhere else?"

Kiba paused again, waiting until Shikamaru was finished, then held out his fingers for him to see.

"God, Kiba," Shikamaru breathed, voice faltering as he grasped his friend's hands, looking at the blood seeping out of the nail beds. "What the hell happened to your fingers? What happened you your head?"

"I dunno what happened to my head. Must've happened when the—" Kiba suddenly paused, sharp eyes flickering between Shikamaru's parents, who were staring at him with horrified concern. When Shikamaru looked at him questioningly, he hung his head and said simply, "The walls have ears."

Shikamaru grunted in understanding, and gestured with a chin at Yoshino. "Alright. Give her your home phone number so she can call your mom and tell her what happened."

"No!" Kiba shouted, then checked himself. "No, please don't. I'll call her."

"And tell her what?" Shikaku asked darkly.

Cowering under Shikaku's rather big shadow, Kiba turned away and shrugged. "She wanted me to check in, so I'll just tell her I got here safely and … when I get home, I'll tell her I crashed my bike while we were hanging out. Or something."

Both of Shikamaru's parents looked like they disapproved, but Shikamaru intervened before they could disagree. "Fine. Give her a call."

Kiba nodded and pulled out his cell phone, dialing his mother's number. She picked up almost immediately, and while he talked to her, Shikamaru pulled his parents aside and spoke quietly to them.

"I need the two of you to move upstairs for a little while, okay?" he whispered.

"Why would we ever?" Yoshino snapped. "The poor boy's hurt!"

"Please," Shikamaru said beseechingly. "If you guys are around, he'll never tell me what happened." He looked to his father, hoping for reinforcement.

"He's probably right, dear," Shikaku said soothingly to his wife, despite the defiant glare he received. "This kid seemed reluctant to say anything in our presence. Let's go upstairs for a while and check back on them in, say, an hour?" He looked at Shikamaru, who nodded with approval.

"How can you go along with this so easily?" Yoshino hissed at Shikaku before turning an accusing gaze on Shikamaru. "And you! You keep being so cryptic, just telling us to 'trust you,' without explaining any of the situation!"

"That's because the last time I tried to explain something serious to you, you didn't believe me, and I ended up in a dirty little apartment with a two-bit job," Shikamaru seethed.

Unexpectedly, his mother shut her mouth at this, even though it was set in a thin line. Shikaku put his arm around her shoulder and led her up the stairs while he had the chance, and Shikamaru returned to Kiba's side just as he hung up, sitting down on the coffee table once more.

"She bought it," Kiba said. His eyes flickered over to the staircase where Shikamaru's parents had just disappeared.

"Don't worry, they're gone," Shikamaru said softly. "If you're still scared they'll hear, you can whisper. Now tell me what happened."

For a second, Shikamaru thought Kiba would cry again. But to his surprise, Kiba quickly regained his composure, and began recounting the night.

"I went to your apartment, and I knocked on the door, but no one came, and as I was about to check your text to make sure I came at the right time, the door swung open, and when I looked inside, the light was flickering and there was this red-headed chick just standing there and I called out to her, and she turned around—"

"Kiba!" Shikamaru said in alarm. "You're hyperventilating. Calm down."

Nodding, Kiba unconsciously grabbed Shikamaru's hand and started to play with those long, white fingers to keep himself focused on something else so he wouldn't panic. "She turned around, and … and the light just blew out. Like, glass went everywhere. I think that might be how my head got cut. And … and I couldn't see anything from the flash, and by the time I could, something grabbed me by the legs and dragged me into the room." Tears started rolling down his cheeks again and he struggled to keep his voice steady as he continued. "I had to crawl across the floor, and it just kept pulling me back, and … I finally kicked it, and it let me go, and … it grabbed me again before I could get out, and … I managed to get away, and I shut the door, and ran off. I only got your text when I turned on my phone to try and call someone."

He suddenly seemed to realize he was grabbing Shikamaru's hand with an iron grip, and forced himself to relax. "I'm sorry … I'm sorry, I didn't know …!" He quickly felt a comforting hand alight on his shoulder.

"This is why I didn't want to talk in public," Shikamaru whispered.

Kiba squeezed his hand harshly again. "Why … why did you invite me to your house in the first place, if you knew this kind of thing was going to happen?"

"I didn't know," Shikamaru said, trying to hide how much Kiba's words stung. "Usually when two people are there at one time, nothing bad happens. But today, my roommate left early, and things started going wrong, and I got scared and had to leave. That's why I tried to text you."

"Are you seriously telling me your apartment is haunted? How can you still live there?"

"It's not the house that's haunted," Shikamaru said, averting his eyes, leaving Kiba to look on in confusion. He didn't quite have the heart to say "I'm haunted." Not yet. Now wasn't the time—Kiba needed to feel safe and recover. "Look, I don't think it's good if I explain while you're upset. Can you wait just a little longer? Maybe a day or two?"

Even though he hesitated, in the end, Kiba nodded. "Yeah … yeah, you're probably right."

"Here, let me get Mom back down here to finish dinner," Shikamaru said, standing up. "You can have something to eat while you get a hold of yourself. In the meantime, I need to make a trip back to the apartment—"

Kiba tackled him, nearly bowling him over, and clung to him desperately, the water-works threatening to start for a third time. "No. No, oh God, no. Don't go back there."

"I don't like it any more than you do, but there are important things there that I can't afford to lose," Shikamaru said, trying to pry himself from Kiba's grasp.

Those tan hands only squeezed tighter and he whimpered like a wounded pup. "And what if I can't afford to lose you?" His grip was vice-like, even though his whole body was shaking. He's just been through pure hell, Shikamaru thought as he turned soft eyes on Kiba's matted hair, so as his friend, he should at least be able to do this much.

"Alright, I won't go," Shikamaru conceded. "But you have to let me go long enough to call my roommate, okay?"

Kiba nodded and stepped back, allowing Shikamaru to pull out his cell phone. He dialed the number just as Yoshino crept down the stairs and asked anxiously, "Is everyone alright?"

Shikaku followed close behind, saying, "Sorry, I tried to stop her, but she slipped past me."

"It's alright," Shikamaru said as the phone rang. "Mom, can you start dinner again? We all need to wind down a little bit."

"Dinner?" Yoshino murmured. Then she put her hands over her mouth. "The stove! I left the stove on!" She dashed into the kitchen, a slew of obscenities ensuing. Shikaku led Kiba into the dining room, who looked over his shoulder warily at Shikamaru, but didn't resist.

Watching them go, Shikamaru's call was on the third ring, and he was beginning to wonder if Chouji would ever pick up. But soon he heard that familiar voice answer the phone irritably, asking, "What? I'm in the middle of my visit with Ino. Which you skipped out on, by the way, so shouldn't you be hanging out with your friend instead of calling me?"

Just barely managing to keep his irritation in check, Shikamaru began to effortlessly make up an intricate lie off the top of his head that would prevent Chouji from going home for the night.

(XXX)

At Konoha's soccer field, the evening was much brighter. Sakura was sitting on the first row of the bleachers, listening to the enthusiastic cheers of her schoolmates as they ushered the Konoha team on to their first victory of the season. And their only victory, if they kept playing like they had been so far. But thankfully, the team's MVP, who had been financed to study abroad in China for a few months, had finally returned and seemed there to stay. The name the crowd chanted was his alias—"Rock" Lee. Though usually he was the laughing-stock of his peers for his bowl-cut hair, bushy eyebrows, and loud personality, in the game of soccer his powerful legs and immovable spirit were living legends. He could kick the ball clear across the field if he wanted to, the teamwork of the other players revolved around him, and as a goalie he could block any shot without even trying. And above all else, he always supported the rookie players, practicing with them so that when they actually got on the field, he could kick the ball towards them, and be confident that they would score a goal. And whoever Lee was confident in, the other team members were too. All this and he still managed to have a wicked pitching arm in baseball, though that sport was much more of a hobby. Soccer, on the other hand, seemed to be his life.

Sakura knew Lee personally. On the first day of her freshman year, he'd enthusiastically confessed his love for her, claiming he'd admired her since middle school, and asked her to go out with him. Of course she rejected him, because the only thing she knew about him was that he looked kind of ugly, which he seemed to handle well. They continued on with their lives, but periodically over the years they ran into each other and talked. Each time, he confessed to her once more, was rejected, and then they talked about other things together. If Sakura thought about it, she was sure she'd remember several times where his kind words and quiet attention saved her when she was at her lowest, and through these encounters they'd become fairly good friends. Once or twice, she'd gone over to his house to study, and nowadays, she found herself attending some of his soccer games.

She smiled to herself and joined in the tumultuous applause that rose from the bleachers as Lee kicked the ball to a rookie member, who made Konoha's winning goal, and as the team carried the kicker around the field, the crowd shot out of the stands, and everyone made their way towards the two different teams. Sakura sat still and waited as all the people took their time meeting and congratulating the players, until the crowd eventually thinned out, and the Konoha members were getting ready to leave for their victory party.

Lee was shaking hands and speaking happily to all his team members in turn, eventually getting to his coach, Gai-sensei, who he hugged and they both began making a ruckus about "the burning passion of youth" and how it had carried them safely through to another victory. When she laughed out loud at this display, Lee heard her and looked up. She waved at him innocently. He told Gai something, probably asking him to go on ahead, then they parted ways and Lee sauntered over.

"Ah, Sakura-chan," He said, sitting down next to her on the bleachers. "You came to watch the game? Something must be wrong."

She frowned. "What makes you say that?"

"Because you only come watch my games when you want to talk about something serious," Lee said, laughing light-heartedly.

"I can't just support my friend's soccer match?" she said defensively.

"Hai, hai, gomen. Thank you for taking care of me."

Well, what he'd said was partially true, even if Sakura didn't want to admit it. There was something she wanted to talk with him about, because there was something special about their friendship that allowed her to be free with her words and feelings no matter what. Sure, it was annoying having a constant admirer, always asking her out, and trying to catch her eye. But Lee was the only friend she had who had seen the worst of her, and could still claim to love her. Times like these, when she needed a friend the most, he'd always been there for her.

"How was China?" she asked, trying to stave off the inevitable.

"Oh, it was great," Lee said, launching into an enthusiastic explanation of the incredible food, the family he stayed with while he visited, the shopping district, the classes, and how one little old senile Chinese man had tried to pants him the street. And speaking of pants, the mother of the family he'd stayed with made him a beautifully-designed set of dress-clothes, green with gold stitching, intricate patterns, and wide sleeves. He promised to show her sometime.

"Wow, China sounds great," Sakura said genuinely. "You thinking of going back there again?"

Lee smiled. "Maybe someday. But for now, I want to live out the next few years devoting myself to soccer and school in good old Japan."

"Good, I think our team would just give up if they had to go without their MVP any longer," Sakura said.

"They would do fine without me, if they could just be a little more confident in themselves," Lee shrugged. "Anyway, what have you been up to lately? Got any plans for the weekend?"

"Well …" She scratched her head. "You know I'm bipolar. I've … been having trouble with it lately, so Mom's had me put on some stronger meds, and … this weekend, I'll be having my first therapy session."

Lee was shocked. "That bad?"

"The therapy I chose on my own. You know Shikamaru from class 2-C, and Kiba who used to be in 3-C?" Lee nodded. "They both go to the same therapy sessions, and they were passing out fliers around the school and downtown. It's a group therapy session, and it seems to work for them, so I want to try it."

"I apologize," Lee said sympathetically, stretching an arm around her shoulder and hugging her close. She let him, closing her eyes comfortably. "How about when your session is over, we go out for ice cream and you can tell me all about it?"

She sat back up and smiled at him. "That sounds great."

He patted her on the back and stood up. "Hey, speaking of ice cream, you want to come with me to the victory party? Gai-sensei is taking us to a place that is famous for its desserts."

She stood as well. "Nah, it sounds fun, but I have a test tomorrow. I've already stayed late enough as it is."

"I understand. Be careful on your way home, okay?"

"Yeah. Thanks, Lee. Tomorrow I'll give you the details about the weekend."

"Alright. See you then."

"See you."

They waved goodbye and departed, Sakura into studious peace at her house, now that she and Lee had talked, and Lee into the throes of his team's celebration. The sky was free of clouds, and though the future was uncertain, for both Sakura and the soccer team, there were high hopes all around.

Little did Lee know, a demon of his own was lurking, hiding behind the field's bleachers.

(XXX)

Notes: KILL MEEEEEE. I'm soooo so sorry I didn't get this out earlier like I said I would in the notes for Little Wonders! (Speaking of "Little Wonders," that's my relatively new fic starring Naruto, Hinata, Gaara, and Lee, requested by my buddy Skitter160. Please go check it out, and request stories of your own!) I've been struggling with trying to get myself started writing, because once I get started, I have no trouble. But finally, today, I dived right in and gunned it all the way to the finish line. Sorry if the chapter seems a little bit crappy, but one way or another, I just had to get through it.

I really had a hard time writing the "creepy" scenes, because every time I would try, it would be at night, and I would get so creeped out envisioning the scenes that I would feel like even the air around me was out to kill me. Not to mention in the past couple months, I've stayed weekends at a friend's house, who is convinced her house is haunted, and didn't tell me until I got there, and once I got there started telling me all kinds of creepy stories. I've had the heebie-jeebies for what feels like years. So all that was part of what kept me from progressing. I dunno how well the creepy scenes get across as being creepy, but, well, whatever. At least this part of the serial is done and behind us now.

Don't worry, I'm working on my other fics too that I've been promising—like the Bleach and One Piece fics—it's just that everything is coming slow. But if you've been with me for a while, by now you know that. I'm sorry, I really will try to update more often. Now that my classes have started, maybe I'll be motivated to be a little more punctual, since I am forced to be when dealing with school assignments. In any case, I hope you appreciate this chapter, because I've been writing it from about midnight to seven A.M., and I still have homework to do. (I do this all for you! Please don't think I don't love and appreciate every one of you out there! T-T *Bows*)

Thank you so much for taking care of me! Please continue to support me, and rate, favorite, and review!