Author: Sly Omi
Disclaimer: As pertaining to all chapters herein: I, Omi, do solemnly swear that I do not, have not, and will not ever own any claim to copyrights of Naruto, either in manga or anime form, or any merchandise thereof. I am writing this for fun, not with the intention to make money.
Pairing: KibaNaruKiba
Warning: You are reading this of your own free will. If yaoi or shounen-ai offends your sensibilites, turn back now. Failure to comply with this might result in your tender sensibilities being mortally offended, or incurring mental trauma on your behalf. Failure to comply with this also means that it's your own fault should that happen - you're the one who wasn't reading the warning.

Naruto once wrote Kiba a poem – or what he thought was a poem – for Valentine's day, because he saw a show on TV where the man read the woman a poem and the woman had hugged him. Then she'd kissed him. He thought if he did the same thing, maybe Kiba would hug him. Kiba probably woulddn't kiss him, but then kissing was icky so Naruto didn't blame him. Kiba was a better bet for hugs than a lot of other people, except maybe Chouji, but Naruto wasn't sure Shikamaru would let Chouji hug him and he wasn't sure that Chouji would hug him without Shikamaru's approval.

So he'd written a poem. Sort of. He'd started it, anyway. Given up about two lines in and started again. Got to the point where he was almost finished before throwing it out. He spent about five minutes glaring at a blank piece of paper on the third try before throwing his arms up in disgust.

What was Kiba going to want with a poem from the kid everybody hated, anyway? It wasn't like he and Kiba were friends. But it got cold in the house and he'd never been hugged that he could remember and he really wanted one, so maybe it couldn't hurt.

Naruto turned on old, barely working radio in his kitchen. Songs came through, commercials for shuriken polish and cleaner and air fresheners and soaps. People talking. He switched through stations, looking for something that didn't suck. He came across a talk show, another talk show, and a radio drama. And paused.

" – tell me what I have to do," said a man.

"Yusuke, no. You can't do anything – it won't work," said a woman.

There was a heavy sigh and the sound of footsteps. A hand on a knob, the door opening. But it didn't close. The man's voice was sad, tired. Cold maybe.

"I would have done anything to make you mine."

"I know. But I can't let you throw your life away for a dream."

Naruto turned off the radio, thinking rapidly. Maybe ... He ran back to the table, grabbed his pen, and started writing.

Kiba was confused. He turned the folded paper over and over in his hands, frowning. The handwriting his name was written in wasn't familiar. He didn't think any of the girls in his class would send him a note, either, one liners or not.

I would do anything to make you mine.

He looked at the calendar. It wasn't his birthday. It wasn't Valentine's day. So who would be sending him love notes?