To Guest #1 (my favourite NejiTen fangirl): NejiTen interaction is always the best, hahaha. :D Thank you for your review, dear! :)
To Guest #2 (the one complaining about the lack of ShikaIno physical contact and how my minor characters outcast ShikaIno): Did you write what you wanted in your review? I suppose so, right? Then, why shouldn't I do the same?
To Guest #3 (the GaaIno fan who joined me in my fangirling quest): I have plans to write them, as a matter of fact. MUAHAHAHA! Thank you for your review, dear! ^_^ (I'm also both happy and sad to finish this ahaha. :P)
To K: Oh my god! It has been such a while, dear! :D Thank you for your review and enjoy! ^_^
SURPRISE FOR MILA: Here is a sexist Shikamaru just for you, Mila. ;) (You thought I had forgotten, yes? Hahaha. Think again, dear! ;)) Congratulations again for your paper and your scholarship! :D
-X-
Whirling Imperfection
by Clementive
-X-
They both enjoyed war, blows and bullets as both a game and reality.
Tenten Morino's thumbs rolled on her gamepad, controlling the shivers running down her spine. She could feel her father's eyes on her, a dark flicker of brutality that turned her blood cold and her palms moist. The explosions blunted on the television, she called herself paranoid. Ibiki Morino's smirk had nothing to do with her, it was about Sasuke. The way he thrusted the gamepad in her hands the moment she stepped in the house didn't mean he knew. She decided, it was also about Sasuke. Her nerves bolted nonetheless, his character chasing hers relentlessly on screen, slicing through her other soldiers in precise jolts of the thumb. He was closing in. The fictional world of the game unfolded in front of her characters and she wished she was the one holding the gun, sprinting and dodging onto the screen.
"Anything on your mind, kid? You play like shit."
She smiled feebly, her father's glance piercing through her, his lips frozen in a straight line. She shifted uneasily, shaking her head. She didn't trust her voice, her throat tightening. Her character missed the exit. Her character turned into a bloody smear on the screen, 'game over' flashing through it.
"You sure there's nothing on your mind?" His voice dropped a tone and she wheeled back in halting motion, her eyes searching for her mother's silhouette in the entrance of the kitchen.
"Just tired." Tenten said quickly, her voice squeaky and small in the pulsating tension that surrounded them.
"Let's play another game."
His order whirled her back towards the screen. She hesitated when he chose the most violent game. She didn't know what to do of her jolting fingers, as her character ran along fortifications on the screen, climbing where heads were blown off and explosions and fire, all too familiar for her to escape.
"You're putting my name to shame, you punk," Ibiki Morino growled leaning forward with his eyes narrowed to slits. "Even your uncle plays better than this."
Triggers couldn't contain her fingers, her palms moistened without the roughness and weight of her gun. She wanted to slow the whirling sensations, let go of the overbearing sensation of her own skin. She wanted to taste every parcel of fire and bullets, holding on to her one answer. To the letter she had sent to the agency.
"You know, kid, I would think that you are hiding something from me. Your game is so bad," his cool eyes flicked to the side and her thumbs slowed imperceptibly on the gamepad, frozen and brisk, "For your own good you should just spill it before I destroy you."
She clenched her teeth having seen her father handle prisoners before. She had admitted to damaging the car when he had erupted from his interrogation room. Ibiki carried, played and skewed truths in ways that they became unbearable, heavy at the back of suspects' throat. She noticed it for the first time, the forced stillness that trapped him. He clenched his fists and he held back with her and her mother. He knew the weight of words, more than she did; they were engraved in his skin, peeled from him in his screams. Her eyes stopped on his bandana that covered his whole head.
"You know there are cameras around the house, don't you? I work for the government, kid, each website you visit, I know. Each sheet of paper you print, I know. I know everything," he muttered darkly and her fingers stopped moving."Your mother knows everything, too."
"I don't want to play, anymore," she squeaked, twisting out of her seat.
"SIT DOWN!"
Tenten held up her hands, slowly leaning back against the couch as if he were pointing a gun at her. Ibiki narrowed his eyes at her, his nostrils flared and his brutal playfulness had deserted his face. He threw his gamepad on the sofa before turning towards her, an arm carelessly hanging on the back of the couch. Beneath his weight, the broken spring screeched.
"Do you think I don't know what happens in my own goddamn house, kid?" His mouth twitched, the scars appearing slimmer below his cheekbone.
She knew if she didn't blink and give short answers, the truth wouldn't hurt as much. Her father had a way to make people talk more than necessary. He could dive in and ruin every belief. He could wreck truths and make them lies.
"Do you seriously think you could send admission form to the agency without my finding out? We do not lie in this house, Tenten. Do you hear me? This family is about truth and whatever bloody nonsense your mother reads about in the parenting books she had me read when she was pregnant with you."
"I wanted to tell you after I got accepted."
"That's not an excuse."
She winced thinking of the answer she had wanted for so long, but it was as blunted, as distant as the same time she held a gun, the first time she bought on. The first time she twisted herself in her father's enlarged coat and the picture her mother snapped, smirking. She wanted to smirk now and tell herself it was the end of the search; she had wanted this. Meeting her father's jolting, cold stare she couldn't be certain. She couldn't guess with so much at stake.
"Your mother frowned and I married the woman so she would never frown. Do you understand that?"
"Is mom ever scared of what you can do?" Tenten blurted out, her eyes on the screen.
His voice resonated through her as a mere whisper pushed back by the thought of posting the admission letter. Hoping, always hoping that she would fit, that every brutal strike she held back made sense. Made her faithful to her deepest yearnings.
"What?" Ibiki barked, his hand picking at the fabric of the couch.
They never lied to one another. She felt squeamish just at the thought of it, her movements jerkier than usual because she couldn't fit in a picture of their family without the harshness of the truth that bound them together, the intrepid mention of his work, the past hanging over their heads. When she turned to him, he was in black and white squealing over the rawness of him; it was like any move she had seen, with the silence thick and ticking, their gestures registered and expected.
"You know... You killed and used to torture people."
"Who the hell told you that?" He blinked but he didn't miss a beat.
"I read your reports."
"Goddamn kid! I hid those for a reason!" Ibiki briskly ran a hand on his head crushing the fabric that hid the scars on his head.
"I'm sorry," she repeated in the silence that followed.
There was only scars and silence between them, raw hints of the savagery they didn't mind.
"I could drive you to a convent so you can marry your mother's God instead. You are terrible at following orders, kid. You will have a rough time at the academy." Her father smirked, chuckling darkly to himself.
'So, did you,' Tenten thought, leaning against his shoulder. She had seen those reports too.
As they stared at one another, she felt her mother hovering around the living room, a cold presence arranging them back into a reality they couldn't fit in. They pretended to for her, for the teachers that laughed nervously fanning themselves whenever her father came to pick her up. She didn't care about fitting the way she once did. Her thumbs absentmindedly rolled back on the gamepad, her mind focused on killing, red still smearing the screen. Game over.
She heard herself and her father exhale as nothing had changed. Nothing did, in fact, they were still the same, they would live on and know the difference between game and reality; count the cadavers and know how many bullets and force of their weapons warranted a peaceful slumber when the streets were agitated.
They would know. They would kill. That was all that mattered. The truth before pain, as her father always said.
"Another game?"
"Yup."
-X-
Hinata Hyuuga was never ready.
She wasn't ready to let go and hold in calm hands the invitation of her Naruto's wedding. She wasn't ready to read it, her family's cool eyes searching her face. Nor was she ready for Tenten's cheery voice to invite her over.
She didn't want to be ready.
Hinata was tired of being angry and sad, forced into the world of her friends who had a happy ending. They had learned to let it go and she hadn't. She wanted to pry their eyes and hands off her skin. She wanted to remain behind, to trail sickly and chase ghosts that swallowed her whole.
She was tired of everyone naming her weakness, waving her over because they thought she would sever and shatter at the slightest tremor snaking up her defence. Her chin quivered and she wondered what it would change if she did. If she let go, sever and refuse to get up. What would it change now that Naruto had sent her an invitation to his wedding, mentioning her as Kiba's plus one? What would it change now that she was filtering Kiba's calls, his lips still searing through her?
Why were they as painful; Kiba's attention and Naruto's ignorance?
"Which one?" Hanabi Hyuuga asked showing her two pairs of jeans.
Without opening her mouth, Hinata pointed at the colour she knew her sister preferred. She knew she was being tested. She knew it was all about the right answer and her wrong feelings when it came to her and her shyness.
"Hn. I thought so."
The air conditioner of the shop bounced off her numbness a movement on her right distracting her. Her head snapped in the direction of flowing pink and she exhaled sharply. She watched Sakura and her mother enter the wedding store. Her hand shook around her cup of coffee, Hanabi's toneless rambles receding to another part of the store.
She always delayed confrontations, she let words of apology get lost in the passing time. She hid, pressed herself against thick impenetrable walls. She watched. Tirelessly, Hinata buried every word that made her angry, every action and look that broke her heart. However, Kiba kept digging every truth inside her, he pulled them out for them to see. She kissed him back through a veil of tears before running. Anything but the stillness of truth, the pain that gnawed at her inside. When she didn't move, she thought of hiding and watching Naruto. She thought of the golden boy no one seemed to notice but her.
She hated sharing him with Sakura now. She hated thinking someone else saw him now that he wasn't as clumsy and oblivious as he had once been. She was always ready for a run, if for anything because when it came to Naruto, she thought it was a curse, a wrong of the universe that should be made right in its own time.
The invitation changed everything. There was no turning back from now on, her name associated with Kiba's.
Every time, Sakura Haruno's hands sank into thin veils, so did her heart. Broken. Healing. The whirling numbness surprised her. It hit her, crushed her chest that despite her pain, despite thinking it was unfair to be the stranger yearning for their life, they were happy. Naruto and Sakura's wedding had nothing to do with her.
It had never been about her.
It had never been about the cake, the catering choices, the decorations and the embroidered napkins shaped in doves she helped Sakura pick. Her stomach churned and she glanced away, cold sweat running down her spine.
They had let her go, before she could untangle herself from them.
"Which one?" Hanabi's voice startled her.
Hinata spun on her heels, her fake smile quivering on the corner of her mouth. Her sister held up two set of shirts, watching her warily as if she may break. She wished she could snap but her faintest wishes seemed dull, feebly deserting her. She was tired, her skin cracking at the edges, her anger pounding.
Hinata had given up more times that she could count but she had never felt abandoned, betrayed by the events that didn't align conveniently. 'Fate', she rolled the thought inwardly, embraced it out of habit. She had stood hidden for too long. She had missed her chance. Somehow, she had believed in fate, in never giving up on anyone. Just like Naruto. Yet, she had given up on herself every time he had been concerned.
"I need to go." Hinata picked up her purse, her fingers briskly waving her sister off.
"What?" Hanabi shouted after her, her arms hanging loosely at her side with the clothes she had in her hands grazing the floor. "How am I supposed to go back home? That's ten kilometers! Hinata, you're not being reasonable." Her sister's tone hardened when she noticed Sakura and her mother chatting animately.
Hinata hurried, her mind whirling, her heels clicking deafeningly onto the floor. She pushed past the glassy doors, Hanabi's frozen state, but Sakura's glance stopped in her track. Her mouth twisted ready to give in to a moan. She was already ready for a run, not for a fight.
"Hey! I meant to phone you, Hinata, I loved that cake! What was it orange and chocolate? Was there a touch of rose water?"
Hinata fidgeted avoiding her glance, her cheeks flaming, betraying her. Sakura's excited rambles washed over her and she barely registered the feel of her mother's hand closing around hers. Behind her, the door opened again and she could picture Hanabi hesitating, watching her intently.
"Congratulations," Hinata said quickly, forcing the word out in a way that startled them.
They blinked and she panted imperceptibly. Sakura's lips rounded in silence, the surprise stilling her features.
"I haven't had the chance to congratulate you properly," she kept talking, her words rushed, panicky, her blush intensifying.
Hinata thought she would crumble under their widened stares. She thought it was obvious that she had somehow hoped that it been a bad dream, that things would settle back between Naruto and her. But they had never been a 'together' when it came to Naruto and her. They were as unmovable as she had hoped for them to be. She was tired of her fantasy of a prince charming that never woke of his slumber. He had chosen his princess. He had chosen someone else than her.
"I'm happy for you," she breathed out, her voice resonating through the icy emptiness settling inside her.
She walked away, her legs too stiff for her to tumble or run. She closed her arms around her, the last of her raw words bouncing inside her, unable to contain them. Tears stung, her vision swaying, people parting before her.
She wished she could have said she were happy for herself.
The sun blinded her when she stepped outside, the heat rushing against her skin. Hinata wanted to laugh and cry, instead she fumbled with her bag searching for her car keys when Hanabi caught up with her.
"What the... what the hell was that?"
"Get in the car, Hana, please. We are leaving," she muttered, her fingers slipping on the unlock button repeatedly before her car squeaked, lights flashing rapidly.
"Does that mean you're dating this other guy?"
Hinata tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear, chewing on her lip. She didn't know what it meant, but just this once she wanted it to be about her. Only her.
"Get in the car, please," she repeated shakily slipping behind the wheel.
Her breaths came in short gasps, filling the car in the same stunned silence that had frozen Sakura and her mother. 'I'm happy for you,' it became a torturous chant in her head.
"Father won't take him seriously. Who tattoos his cheeks? I mean, ugh. Do you have a tattoo? Is that what this is about, Hina? Did you get a tattoo in College? Do you drink too?"
Her voice nagged her, urging her towards change. Her sister's eyes widened and she wondered what she was seeing, what fault there was life in the way she felt.
"Buckle your seatbelt, please."
"Father won't like your new boyfriend, but as long as he makes you happy..." She shrugged, tugging at her seatbelt.
The engine purred to life, her hands still shaking on the wheel. She turned the fixity of her stare towards her sister.
"He makes me laugh," she whispered and her sister nodded slowly as if she understood.
'He makes me laugh and cry and hurt and heal,' she thought and everything that tortured her quietened. Kiba took her whole and Naruto had always scavengers pieces of her, noticing what he ought to. She felt both relived and sad at the notion of being whole after thinking for many years that she was damaged beyond repair.
She was done waiting.
Her shoulders relaxed, her hands stilling onto the wheel and her feet fell gently onto the gas pedal.
-X-
Ino Yamanaka wrinkled her nose, her purple nail running alongside the ruined collar of Shikamaru's shirt. Despite his size, it shallowed her whole. Her skin dully glowed in the cinder that hung in the air. The curtains pulled over the setting sun made the scene of them surreal. Her bare nudged a brush he had disregarded earlier onto the floor.
She was restless; their relationship spinning out of control while being chaotically slow.
Her fingers left the small holes of the collar ran up her neck before resting against her lips. It all seemed too easy in the heat of his loft, the fan purring clumsily above their heads. They had freedom, they had time, and every time she felt like they were rediscovering one another, half-surprised by the other's presence.
With agitated hands, she tugged at the collar of his shirt, folding her legs under her. Ino couldn't figure out when it was enough whether it was with him, the rhythm of their shared breath matching or in front of her plate. She still wished to scale every aspect of them, weigh herself before exposing her. She looked down at his shirt, frowning at the dry paint and small holes she hadn't noticed before.
"We-"
"No, we aren't going shopping, troublesome woman. I use that shirt for painting," Shikamaru Nara pulled her back against his lean chest, frowning and groaning when she resisted.
Her blond hair slid off her shoulder, grazing his chest as she leaned towards him, her palms pressed against him.
"This is not a fun game," he muttered leaning in to inhale the scent of her neck.
She liked how his face softened whenever he saw her, his hands always reaching for her. She told herself, she didn't need to worry; he wasn't her mirror, he didn't skew her image out of proportion. But she needed to do it on her own. If she were to love him, she needed to love herself first and shrink away form the lens of the camera.
"I'm going back to school."
Reluctantly, Shikamaru pulled away holding her in a way he could stare down in her pale eyes. They seemed almost grey in the dimmed living room. He licked his lips, her voice whirling inside him. Now that he had held her and lost himself onto the feeling of her skin, he couldn't think of them apart. Not when they still weren't used to being together. He worried about the difference between them and she worried about the distance.
"This has nothing to do with shopping, then," he ran both his hands in his hair, sitting back up.
Ino shivered from the warmth trail his hands left on her skin. She tucked her bangs behind her ears, watching his warily, her lips set in a firm line. She had expected him to smile, instead he looked as frozen as her father when she had told him. It was as if they hadn't noticed the change, the curves filling him. Ino frowned and looked away, blaming them for getting used to the hollowness of her beauty.
"No. I mean, Shika... I'm not dumb and I..." she pressed her hands against her laps, hardening her features. "I asked Dr Morino for a letter of recommendation. She said I could still get in for this fall."
She was tired of being left behind. If she fell, she wanted to catch herself, not wait for him, Sora Morino or Kurenai to haul her back on her feet.
His ears whistled, his shoulders tensing as she kept talking. Her voice grew high-pitched and broken, falling flatly between them.
"You're going to be a doctor," he said flatly cutting her off.
She bit her lip, watching him shutting himself away. For once, he wasn't gazing up or chasing shadows; he had his eyes closed. She rubbed her arms, warming herself against the feeling of doom that had settled in her stomach.
"A woman shouldn't make more money than a man, Ino. It's unhealthy and troublesome," Shikamaru added tonelessly, turning his head slightly on the side so he could watch her with dull eyes.
Her laughter crossed her lips in a shrill and he winced at the sound. She leaned back against the couch, her sides still shaking. She dug her heels on his thigh, still laughing, until his hands circled her ankles dragging her back against him.
"You are making this about money?" Ino giggled, kissing his nose.
"I'm serious, Ino. What will happen when I can't afford to pay for a... stupid dress or shirt."
"You mean, because I could run away with say," she tapped her chin, smiling wolfishly, "a man who runs a company at our age. Now... how unhealthy and troublesome that would be, troublesome asshole?"
"If you are referring to Gaara..." Shikamaru's mouth twitched, his face darkening.
"I am, in fact. He told me to tell you 'hi' in the most insulting way possible, which obviously I can't considering our state of dress. I think he may still have issues with you. You two should work it out."
"Ino."
Her eyes narrowed, the amusement receding from her face. It glowed, the dusky light licking it hungrily.
"Shikamaru, if you weren't chivalrous and prompted to lighting scented candles, I would slap you for being such a sexist."
He held up his hands, his head rolling back on the back of the couch. Her legs slid back over his thighs as she watched him.
"I just don't want... things to get troublesome." Shikamaru rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding her glance.
"You mean lose me?" She smirked, her fingers teasingly caressing his bicep. "Just say it, Shika, you don't want to lose me to a millionaire."
She glided against him, her head fitting below his chest. When he didn't answer, she playfully smacked his chest, growling impatiently. He winced, catching her hand before she could hit him again.
"Say it, Nara."
"Fine," he mumbled, his hands hesitating in her golden locks, "I don't want to lose you."
Ino reached for his cheek, biting her lip. She also feared the motion that pulled them apart, among worlds that couldn't graze one another. They had to move forward, she reminded herself. They could survive the distance, she knew. She only hoped he knew it too.
Ino pulled him closer, her lips moulding to his.
"Well, then don't," she whispered huskily against his lips.
Everything whirled out of proportion, propelling them into an embrace. It knocked the breath out of her, how they blended in. There were times it wasn't about shadows, a rolling car and the perfection she had to let go of. Ino closed her eyes rocked by the movements of Shikamaru's hands on her skin.
She had never expected a happy ending.
-X-
I hope you have all enjoyed this. ^_^
Next chapter is the end. We are almost there, dears! :D WOOOOHOOO! I have a feeling next chapter will be very long so I may split it in half. Or I may leave some scenes. It all depends on your feedback, I guess.