To sealy1204: Thank you, you make me blush! :3
This is a long chapter which is part of the reason it is late. I have hinted once about Shika's background but now it's finally here. This chapter concentrates on his POV instead of Ino's. I didn't plan it that way but it happened, so... I hope you will all enjoy it! ^_^
-X-
Gaara tilted his head, his pale eyes following the pacing of his sister. Temari didn't know the value of silence and passivity; she didn't believe in shutting off the devastating rising storm inside her the way he did. She was the lion who revealed fangs and claws whenever provoked. Temari hated to lose. She thought she could disturb the earth's axle if it meant for her to reach her goals. She was the lion who could defeat Hercules. She paced and she exploded with each step.
For the first time, she wasn't a lion.
She was the sheep and she didn't have fangs. Shadows quivered around her and she was hurt. She was a bleeding sheep pacing with pained hisses and a broken heart.
Shifting on the unmade bed of her motel room, Gaara leaned against the headboard. He didn't know she knew until now how much she cared for Shikamaru Nara. Surprise still twisted her lips in an expression of destruction and despair.
For once, she wasn't the destroyer.
"I will take care of this."
Her body carved in and she stopped moving in the middle of the room. Breathing hard, Temari turned abruptly towards him and he caught a glimpse of fear narrowing her eyes. He could almost see the winds intensifying in the glare she gave him. He remained calm, knowing the act all too well. There was still a shapeless hesitation in her movements as she neared him. Somehow, she still feared him the way he feared her pacing and loudmouth.
"I'm your big sister. I changed your diapers, so I can and will fix this on my own. I'm not powerless, Gaara. I'm not a stray cat. I'm independent and adult. Stay out of this."
"I'm your brother," he replied curtly, his fingers purposely brushing his reddish hair out of his eyes.
Her eyes flickered over the tattoo on his forehead. He watched the gulp forming in her throat. Just as calmly, he watched from his body the flashes of bloodied children staying clear of his path transforming her expression. She paled, hissing through pinched lips. He thought of the anger which used to run acid and cold in his veins when he felt the world was closing in on him, shutting him off from Kankuro and her. He hoped she remembered the times she couldn't change his diapers because he was at war against the world and she was just one more casualty. He watched her green eyes widened slightly, until meeting his cold orbs. He cared enough for her to let the darkness inside take over once more despise his promise. He cared enough to let her know, if there was any other bloodied children on his path, it would be for her.
"Gaara..." Her voice trailed off and he smirked.
"Don't worry, Tem."
He rose from the bed and passed her without another word. If Temari hated to lose, Gaara hated it more than she did. He simply never let it happen even if that meant letting the monster of his younger years roar for the first time in years.
-X-
Roaring Perfection
by Clementive
-X-
Shikamaru Nara was too aware of the plastic chair beneath him. He was too aware of the honks and fast cars that hurried pushing against one another to reach the highroad. His fingers drummed the familiar tune of remembering on his thighs. It rose from his soul, his shadows. He took that road when he wrecked his father car. He took that road when Neji and Chouji almost died.
"You are pale, Shikamaru."
He snapped back to reality focusing on the pale tiles. His paintings were scattered on Mei's desk as she pulled them out of his portfolio with trained careful hands.
Others' paintings intimated him just as Mei Terumi did. Every time he walked in the gallery, his art felt foolish, his portfolio, heavier. He blamed it on the pressure of the city, the pressure of being seen, exposed and dissected. The pressure of the highroad. Unlike the capital, Konoha didn't have as many artists, as many critics who took the time to ask for an explanation, feelings and methods. In Konoha, art was straightforward, not a lifestyle as it was here.
Mei's art gallery was a merciless theatre of artists climbing and falling. At each visit, he looked for the shadows that snaked beneath each hung paintings to distract himself. They told secrets of blotched emotions and tentatives of growing beyond a world that didn't change fast enough to match the streaks of paint.
He started seeing shadows in them, the first time he walked in. He remembered the unexperienced jerks of his wrist as he drew for the first time. He remembered the weight of his clipped fingers. The shadows of the speeding bus were fluid then, but carved in the movements of an awakening city. He came back for weeks, concentrating on the shadows that outlived the living and revealed the obstacles they willed to drown with each step. Mei would watch him out of the corner of her eyes before requesting to see his sketches. She would call them sloppy but he never opened his College admission letters after his first visit here. He didn't want open them after the accident and the art gallery gave him a reason not to.
The shadows found him here and they destroyed him on the other side of the street.
"You aren't evolving, Shikamaru. Not the way, I want you too. You are still sloppy."
He shrugged, but his fingers twitched for a cigarette. He never replied whenever she called on his laziness because he knew it was useless and troublesome to argue with Mei. She could name his flaws with a smile on her face, with words bouncing of cheerfulness while others frown and pretend to have only his best interests at heart. It was her joy and honesty that led his hand to thicker shadows when his fingers weren't clipped anymore, when Neji and Chouji survived the night and were declared stable. He found darkness within the soul that rang only true to monsters and fallen people. Whenever she smiled and told me that she could kill him if he didn't come back with more paintings, he would draw with precision, his hands never slow or sloppy.
Shikamaru discovered the first time he drew a criminal that some shadows were shared and inescapable. He discovered how they speed under one's skin, tasting of alcohol and blood.
Yet, he never showed her the portraits of the monsters, trapped in shadows. There were his, theirs and hers and he could never show those paintings knowing so.
Shikamaru flinched when her stopped on her portrait. Mei Terumi traced the edge of Ino's face, her breath caught in her throat. He shifted uncomfortable with the idea of sharing this side of Ino. He hated the idea of having her exposed with thick shadows circling her bones to someone else. He liked to think he was the only one who could see beyond them and dissipate them with blue paint.
"This shouldn't be there, I'm sorry-"
She slapped his hand away, her eyebrows furrowed as her usual smile graced her lips.
"Shut up or I will kill you," her smile slid off her face as quickly as it appeared, her finger suddenly pointed towards him. "This goes as the main theme of your exhibit. Paint two more..."
Her glance returned to the painting, green and triumphant. A stubborn coldness crept under his skin and he was faced with Ino and her hand finally closing around a milkshake and the Ino who refused the idea of being a prom queen with the way she saw her body. Those two Ino's were pressed against his sides and he could barely breathe.
He hated the idea of sharing shadows. He hated the idea of sharing her and naming her monster alongside his.
"Paint her without shadows," Mei continued tossing his other paintings aside. "I want to see what she looks like without those things curling on her face."
"I have to ask the model before you can hang this. I'm not sure she will-"
"But you want to paint her without them, don't you?" She laced her fingers together, cocking her head on the side and her auburn bangs bounced around her. "It's different from your usual style, Shikamaru. This is less careless, less random. Those shadows are purposeful, etched on her soul. You want to paint her just as much as I want to hang her here."
"It's not that simple," he ran a hand through his hair thinking of wheels and screeching tyres. "Ino doesn't like to be exposed."
'I don't like to be exposed.'
"Shikamaru, you have talent. Don't make me question whether or not you have balls. Now, shut up and paint or I will seriously consider killing you for trying to hide this from me."
-X-
Hinata Hyuuga sighed, gnawing at her lower lip to as she locked the door of the decoration shop. Slowly, she turned towards the rain, her fingers fighting the resistance of her umbrella, before she stepped onto the side-walk. The cold water snaked down her ankles and she headed home, her eyes piercing the shower of rain to find her path.
It didn't come as naturally, now that she couldn't follow Naruto and his brightness. She would ache to find him on her path even if she willed herself to stop. He was with another; she needed to accept it. It wasn't her path anymore and it would never be theirs.
The memory seared in her mind. If she hadn't been meek, she would have talked to him. If she hadn't been weak, she would have fight for him. Instead, she let him go and every time she watched him, it was as if she were on the other side of a window. She could see him but curtains always veiled her presence.
"Hinata! Wait!"
She froze, choking on her memories when the umbrella was taken from her hands. Out of reflex, she wrapped her arms around herself, but the rain never hit her shoulders. She looked up at a grinning Kiba and she yelped. He let rain poured down his face and soaked his leather jacket still holding the umbrella above her head.
"Kiba, what are you-?" The rest of her question died on her lips when he laughed, his dark glance gleaming with mischief.
It sounded like a roar and the voices inside her head ceased. He shook his head, water dripping down his neck. The splashes of water echoed weakly around them; they were alone with him vibrant and her, petrified. Alone with her laboured breathing and his laughter. She looked down at his red cowboy boots, her face heating.
"What are you doing here?"
For a short moment, she wondered if the rain drowned the sound of her voice because he didn't answer immediately. She knew the would often tune her out as it could speak louder than she.
"What does it look like, Hina? I'm escorting you home under this torrential rain. I'm sorry, Akamaru couldn't come. He hates the rain, you know. He says it screws up his sense of smell."
Hinata flushed, willing her arms to part from her body. She wished she could stand as straight as him under the rain and not care about the coldness of the drops. She wished she could hold that umbrella above Naruto's head.
"Com'on, Hina. If I start walking, you will get soaked and then I will have no other choice but to use this umbrella as my own. I don't want this to become my style."
His dark glance didn't flinch over her reddening face. It found her eyes as if it were the more natural thing in the world.
"I don't mind getting soaked," it surprised her how easily it came to her without a shutter or hesitation.
Her family would expect her to mind. They would hold the umbrella the way Kiba did, never letting one drop hit her. Her family would expect her to break at the slightest drop running down her pale skin. They would call her fragile. Kiba only smirked, jerking the umbrella away from her and she yelped. The rain drenched her clothes in an abrupt cascade. Her teeth chattered, but his laughter rose, warm and amused. She stared up at the heavy clouds covering the sky, water dripping down her neck, drenching her pale shirt.
Then, the umbrella appeared in her field of vision and she almost protested.
"I know you can handle anything, Hina."
He took a step towards her, his glance never leaving her face. For the first time in a while, she didn't feel hopeless, fragile and shy. She felt strong with rain pouring down on her. She wanted to step outside her cocoon of comfort once again and leave him behind with the umbrella. She didn't. Too shy, frozen to the core, pinned by his dark glance.
"I don't need you to walk me home, Kiba," she said softly instead.
It didn't sound as strong as she would hope it to be. She still wasn't as strong as she would hope to be. She still wasn't Sakura Haruno.
"I know, but Akamaru won't let me go home if I don't. That dog really cares for you, Hina."
She realized he still hadn't begun walking. He stilled under the rain for her, waiting, hoping for things she knew she didn't deserve to give him. His white shirt was plastered on the skin of his chest and she would have bet his jacket was ruined. Yet, he wouldn't look or walk away.
"Kiba, I-"
"Com'on, Hinata, don't scold me. I'm just Akamaru's humble servant with hormones torturing me into telling you how beautifully strong you are."
She started walking, breathing hard while fighting the heat rising up her neck. She almost wished for silence to chase him away. She almost wished for Naruto to swap places with him. Almost, because Naruto had called her weird once. Then, he had called her stubborn. However, he had never called her strong. She remembered him taking things from her hands and fixing them himself in chemistry. She remembered him fighting her fights and telling her to let him handle things.
She hid behind him like she hid from the rest of the world every day. Things didn't change.
It hurt but she kept dragging those memories wherever she went. Kiba had the power to revive them and twist them. Every time, she felt both defenceless and strong. Kiba was near her, but she felt like she stood a thousands miles away from him in a pool of still waters tying her down to her old ways. Shaking, she stepped in the rain and he waited for her, pausing in his track with his body turned towards her so he could watch her turn softly with her arms outstretched. He didn't stop her just as she knew he wouldn't. Her tears stung at the corner of her eyes and he still waited.
"Y-you should go."
Her arms fell back into place around her and the rain was the only thing that hid her weakness. Somehow, she didn't want him to reconsider calling her strong. Somehow, she didn't want him to realize how broken and lost she was even after the two years Naruto and Sakura have become an official couple.
The rain crashed down on her body and she wanted to lie down because it had always been easier to give up and hear others call her weak.
"You know even if you can stand under that rain, Hinata. It doesn't mean you have to," Kiba pinched his earlobe, his wrist spinning her pale umbrella.
"What if I want to?"
"I will wait."
His smile was gone when he answered her and she almost missed it. She smiled pathetically, telling herself no one would ever be that patient. She fought with herself to utter the words that she hoped would set him free and leave her behind.
"It's not fair that you stand in the rain when you are holding my umbrella. Go home, Kiba," she said, smiling sadly and she wondered if it seemed like a grimace.
He didn't bulge.
"I'm walking you home, Hinata, because if I don't, I will start looking for an excuse to touch you."
She never knew which one of them stepped towards the other. Before she realized it, she could see the faintest irregularity on the tattoos on his cheeks. She could see the determination setting his jaw.
"The second reason I'm standing in the rain," Kiba continued letting her scrutinize him with his brown bangs falling in his eyes, "is because it clears my head. That's the only thing that keeps me from kissing you and telling you over and over how Naruto is an idiot. Because you don't want any of that from me. Not yet."
He smirked and she knew she would let him take her home because she wanted to share a path. For once, she didn't want to follow anyone. She wanted to have someone next to her, smiling and holding an umbrella over her head while talking about fake Mexican dishes and ruined red cowboy boots.
Mortified and thrilled, Hinata reached her porch. Then, she watched his back and the hunched for of his shoulders. She was stunned to feel her heart contracted at the thought of being behind him because she hid and he roared. It would be so easy for him to forget her presence.
She knew she would never roar, never raise her voice in the fist of anger everyone wouldn't let her handle on her own.
She closed the door behind her muttering to herself that they were worlds apart and he would carry on and find his own Sakura Haruno. She would never shine and speak up the way he did. She would never be free of the pain compressing her chest.
-X-
Shikamaru couldn't let her go.
He couldn't lose her to his shadows.
He was afraid if his fingers stopped trailing up and down her arms, Ino would fragment, dissipate and see the struggle of her portraits in him. She had many faces, his features morphed whenever he ran his thumb over her cheeks. In his mind, she was faces, layers of paint and shadows.
So, his mouth captured hers. He didn't want to stop and interrupt the giggle rising in her chest as he pressed her against the wall. They stood, intertwined next to his first graffiti. He didn't want to stop holding her against his chest and feel the thumping of her heart and the shivers that became gasps against her lips. He felt her palm against his chest and growled.
She panted, searching his face. He avoided her glance, staring at her parted pink lips instead. His fingers trailed her intake of breath and he watched her frown slightly. He knew she could feel an incomprehensible pressure from him.
His contract with the hospital was over but he was still there. She was eating and growing, the shadow of the Ino of his childhood in a scrub she was more and more reluctant to take off.
"What is wrong?" Ino asked keeping the distance between their heaving chests.
"I made a mistake."
He licked his lips, stepping away from her. He didn't know if he meant the car crash or her portrait. He couldn't tell the untangled shadows apart. Ino crossed her arms over her chest, watching him run both hands in his hair. She didn't comment on the mess.
"Your portrait..."
She narrowed her eyes, her fluttering smile deserting her lips. In a swift motion, she pushed herself from the wall to step in front of him.
"What about it?"
"Mei saw it," he whispered closing his eyes.
"Who the hell is Mei?"
"The owner of the art gallery I told you about. She wants to hang it."
Shikamaru always wondered why before the crash, silence crept. He always wondered about explosion that swallowed sounds and gave in to a ruptured world of glass and clouds the wind couldn't push away. He always wondered about the inward roar that came before the crash.
Ino's blue eyes were unflinching and cold when they met his. There were eyes of a woman who couldn't look at her body without spinning thoughts and sickly tantalizing numbers. The silence thickened, rip him inside because her cheeks weren't flushed with desire anymore. Anger kissed her lips instead of him. Rage nibbled her neck instead of him.
"No," she said lowly her hair slapping his cheek as she walked away.
He caught her arm, his eyes widened at the brutality of her tone. Shikamaru fought to find his breath. Her face said no to too many things. No, I won't unlock that window for you anymore. No, I won't kiss you again. No, I won't let you see this side of me anymore.
"Ino, please stop. Tell me no and I will fix this, troublesome woman. But don't-"
"Oh sure, because you are always so keen to ask my permission before drawing me," she roared, sarcasm drenching her voice. "It's not like you care enough about the human world that is not made of shadows."
His hand fell from her arm as he paled, watching her gulp down the fists of anger pushing her to say more and keep pounding on him with words until he lied on the ground.
"It's not like you care enough."
"Of course, I do," Shikamaru whispered, knowing that he couldn't reach for her at that point.
He never could stop a crash. He never could prevent the windows from exploding, glass raining down on his laps and shoulders as he let the shadows in. He let them feast on him. He broke a finger and his friends almost died.
"Then, stop advertising my body!" She shoved him out of her way and for a moment, she blended with the light of the of the truck coming the other way. "Stop being a Deidara when you promise me you wouldn't be like him!"
After the crash, there was silence.
This time, he didn't have Temari blowing on the clouds above his head.
This time, it hurt more and he didn't want anyone but Ino staring up at the clouds above his head.
-X-
Ino puffed, shaking as her back elevator's wall. She didn't raise her head when a red-haired man stepped in after her. She was focused on avoiding her reflection the four walls and the shadows Shikamaru chose to paint across her face.
"It's on the seventh floor."
"Excuse me?" Her head snapped in the direction of the cool voice.
Calm green eyes gleamed and she felt a shiver ran up her spine.
"The psychiatric ward," he articulated slowly, his pale face revealing nothing. "You seem to be searching for a place where you truly belong and I'm telling you it's on the seventh floor."
She didn't roar, didn't speak up or narrowed her eyes.
Ino hit him with all the anger of the years she had spent shaping her body in a way it would be perfect, but breakable; an uncomfortable shell that couldn't tolerate grease. Breathing hard, Ino watched the blood pour down his nose, her bony fists clench over the pain circling her knuckles.
She stepped back from him, the blood dripping down his chin even with his hand over his nose. His features were frozen in a mixture of awe and pain, the tattoo of on his forehead visible under the dimmed light.
"That was," she harshly panted unclenching her bruised fists as she met her reflected glance next to his head, "in case you were searching for a place where you truly belong."
The doors whooshed open and she stepped outside without glancing back.
"I'm Gaara," he called after her.
-X-
Next chapter, the minor pairing will be NejiTen. ^_^
I don't remember which of you guys asked for a GaaIno scene, but it's finally there. I hope you enjoyed it! ;)
If I reach 200 reviews, I will throw rainbows and cookies at you and the 200th reviewer will get a lovely oneshot, an epilogue or whatever else his or her heart desires. The point is: 200 reviews will make me very happy. :P