Wow…it still amazes me the amount of feedback I get after updates…you guys rock mah socks. Thank ye kindly. Hee-hee! Again, my apologies for the cliffhanger…:snickers:
Alrighty then, on we go!
Chapter 10: Who you Gonna Call? GHOST BUSTERS!
Ah love. Such a wonderful thing, no? So wonderful, in fact, that bohemian poets young and old have dedicated their lives to describing it, that suave crooners and hard rockers alike sing of it, that novelists weave intricate tales of its many faces, chock full of seduction and intrigue and innocence and betrayal.
Shikamaru did not know much about love. He was not a poet or a singer or a novelist. Whenever his friends talked about relationships, the talk often veered in a rather naughty direction—teenage boys have a habit of speaking with their hormones' voices—and Shikamaru, whether out of laziness or embarrassment, listened while pretending not to listen, and never ventured any comments of his own, though he learned quite a bit about the pubescent mentality of the male brain. Horrifyingly enough, he found his own brain gallivanting off into the forbidden territory his peers not-so-secretly invaded, something that happened at a much greater frequency now than ever before. Why, right at this very moment his rogue thought processes were treating him to a very pleasant fantasy about giving the object of his—dare I say—desire a bona-fide tonsil-hockey kiss, the same kind of kiss that usually precedes questionable…behaviors. The fantasy was so realistic that he could even feel the coolness of her cherry-red lips pressed against his…
Cerulean is an interesting color, Shikamaru noted as he studied the pair of eyes that stared directly into his. Not blue, but...blue…like…the sky? Yeah, that's it. Sky. Where the clouds are. I like clouds…and I like Ino. I like Ino a lot. And I'm kissing her. Right now. Really kissing her. Yup. That's what I'm doing. That's…WHAT?
Reality can be such a cruel thing. Shikamaru enjoyed a few more pain-free moments before it slapped him silly—and we aren't talking little baby slaps here, either.
It even smiled at him before striking.
"Sheekawawu."
Oh bugger.
His mouth was still glued to hers. He had the decency to remove it.
"Y—yes?"
The frightening smile appeared.
"I'm going to kill you."
Gulp.
Sweet mother…
The frightening smile became even more frightening, gobbling up her face and leaving a deranged, psychopathic vampire-woman in its wake. All of Shikamaru's instincts told him to run, and run fast, but his body seemed to be against said action, much to his chagrin.
And then the side of his face went numb, and tiny stars danced around nauseatingly in front of his eyes.
Ino left him there in the snow and got to her feet, limbs like limp noodles, head a tad woozy, and glared at the crowd that had gathered to witness the spectacle. Never mind that she had just been kissed by the person she was falling in love with, and that, after the initial shock wore off, she discovered the experience wasn't as unpleasant as she might have expected. To tell the truth, she wouldn't be all that adverse to a repeat performance.
No, there was a principle involved, here. She hadn't exactly consented to the kiss beforehand (though Shikamaru really hadn't, either) and she would have preferred it to occur at a place other than out in front of all of their friends. Add that to the fact that their first kiss could have come straight out of a horridly predictable friends-who-are-just-friends-but-becoming-lovers romantic comedy, and the result equaled a very irritated Ino.
Sakura opened her mouth in an attempt to calm her, but she closed it when Ino gave her a look that said, 'not now, or I'll bite your head off.' No one moved as she stormed past them to the house, and the sound of the door slamming echoed like a gunshot.
Gaara, who had not yet escaped from his snow straight-jacket, turned his head to where Shikamaru lie, winced, and then looked up at Kakashi. "That is why I don't bother with women. How the hell is a guy supposed to know what's going to make a girl snap before getting the crap beat out of him?"
The silvery-haired man gave a derisive snort. "Most of the time, it all boils down to dumb luck, my friend. Although," he stole a quick glance at Anko and smirked, "the chase is part of the fun."
Sensing eyes on her, the Special Jounin peeked over her shoulder, one eyebrow cocked. "Think leering at me is going to switch on my hormones, big guy?" She tried to sound aloof, though her body was in fact responding accordingly to the attention. Kakashi did not need to know how attracted she was to him, however—if mere eye contact resulted in her being in this state, she had no idea what would happen when he kicked the charm into full gear. Jerk. I'm not about to let you seduce me so easily!
"See what I mean?" whispered Kakashi to Gaara in the manner of one conspirator to another. To Anko, he said, "I was unaware that admiring the qualities of a lovely lady such as you is considered leering nowadays. Whether or not your hormones respond is one of those coincidental factors that I have no control over."
Anko's mouth twitched. Of all times for him to provoke her, he had to pick now, when every member of the party save Ino could eavesdrop. Quite a bit of history existed between her and Kakashi, and she had been victim to his tricks before. Well, she refused to take the bait now. Squatting down so that their faces were level with each other, she smiled a sugary sweet smile and said in a voice dripping with venom, "I'm on to you, boyo, and I'll remind you that there are factors to this little game I can control, so you'd better be careful where you tread." As a final measure, she patted his cheek a bit softer than a slap, but hard enough to sting, winking at Gaara as she straightened and trundled off to the house for a shower.
"She likes me," Kakashi decided after his errant prey moved out of earshot.
"That's fabulous. Once you're married, I hope you have five billion babies that are just as obnoxious," Gaara told him. "Now, if you don't mind, I'm losing all the feeling in my limbs. Get the hell off."
Being no masochist, the Jounin obliged. "Sorry, sorry. Wouldn't want your Excellency to freeze to death."
Through an immense display of will-power, the Sand-nin managed to keep his temper leashed. "Are you trying to be funny?"
"Yes. Is it working?"
"No. Give us another."
"I'm not that stupid, Sandman."
Before he could receive a reply, Sharingan Kakashi performed one of his infamous vanishing acts, no trace of his presence left behind other than a small pile of leaves.
"Showoff," Gaara muttered.
Once the swelling in his cheek began to go down, Shikamaru took the time to ponder over the disaster he had made of his first kiss. From what he'd heard, kisses were not supposed to be violent affairs, neither were they to be the result of poor balance, however the dark-haired boy never did things normally, even when he had all of the books in front of him. How would he manage to wheedle out of impossible situations, otherwise?
Yet his tactical skill had failed him miserably today. In his daydreams—when laziness did not hinder them—Shikamaru was the dashing rogue who swept his heroine off her feet and left her breathless with his unprecedented competence in the art of kissing—these daydreams never went very far, mind, as Shikamaru usually shook himself out of them when he realized how ridiculous they were.
The reality?
Oh, he swept her off her feet, all right. Into a nice pile of snow—the most unreliable substance ever—and earned an egg on his cheek for his efforts. The kiss itself hadn't been too bad—if one overlooked the fact that their mouths were not so much joined as they were smashed together, which left little room for enjoyment.
All of this had occurred three hours ago, and Ino still wasn't speaking to him. She had locked herself in their room, refusing to come out no matter who rapped on the door. Sakura finally herded everyone away, claiming that Ino would emerge when she calmed down enough to hold civil conversation. Quite convenient for the blonde, who did not have to worry about being tormented by their charming friends as long as she remained in isolation. Shikamaru, having no sanctuary to barricade himself in, was instead treated to the gibes in her place.
"Man, she really decked you!" Naruto snickered, pointing out the obvious with something akin to savage glee on his fox-like face.
"I never would have guessed," Shikamaru replied, voice dry as sandpaper.
"It was a valiant effort, though," commended Lee, eyes twinkling as he patted him on the back. "You get credit for being brave."
"Gee, thanks, Lee. You have no idea how comforting that is."
"Cheer up," Sasuke told him with an ironic grin. "At least you still have all of your teeth, right?"
Shikamaru did not bother responding.
"Knock it off, you guys," Sakura chided, cuffing Naruto on the back of his head before she set two large bowls of trail-mix on the coffee table. "The poor kid's had enough of an ordeal today as it is." She plopped next to her boyfriend on the couch, giggling when he made a face at her.
"I'm not made of titanium alloy," he muttered, rubbing at his head.
Gaara, GameBoy in hand, snorted. "That was a big word, Naruto. I'm amazed you know what titanium alloy is."
Shikamaru sighed while a round of verbal sparring began, grateful for the change in subject matter. His store of witty remarks seemed to have been misplaced amidst all the chaos, leaving him incapable of defending himself for extended periods. He remained where he was for a moment or two, quietly slipping off of his seat and moving down the hall when he was sure that everyone's attention was no longer on him.
A rattling noise to his left made him pause, eyebrows raised. Apparently, the broom closet had acquired some live occupants—and very rowdy ones, at that. From the amount of breathy giggles that filtered through the door, Shikamaru concluded that he would rather not stick around to listen—his cheeks had long since flared—and continued on to his destination. Once there, he took a few deep breaths, nervous all of a sudden, and drummed his fingertips against the wooden surface of the bedroom door.
"Ino?" He called softly. "Come on, Ino. Open up. We're going to have to talk sooner or later."
Silence.
"Ino please let me in."
Nothing.
"I'll stand here all night. You'll get hungry, and then you'll have to come out. I know you. Your stomach's gonna be growling soon, and you get sick if you don't eat."
"That's not fair!"
Shikamaru smiled."Exactly. Now quit being a spoiled brat and let me in." If that doesn't send her flying—
He had nothing to worry about. The door swung open and Ino stood there, hands balled into fists. "I am not a spoiled brat!" She hissed, yanking him into the room and kicking the door closed with her heel. "How dare you—"
"Say such a thing, yeah, yeah," he interrupted, sitting cross-legged on the edge of the bed, the smile never having left his face. "But it worked, didn't it?"
Ino blinked at him, flummoxed. He tricked me. That sneaky little— "I hate you."
"I'm sorry," he said, though she knew he wasn't. "Sit over here." Patting the spot near him, he beckoned to her. "Let's talk about why you hate me."
The tone of voice he used reminded her of the way their Academy teachers talked, adults addressing ignorant children who didn't know better, and it infuriated her. Who does he think he is? He's making me look like the bad guy! I'll show him! So what did she do?
Sat down next to him, of course, glaring out of the corner of her eye every now and then so he understood how irritated she was. "Well? What should I say? 'Oh, I'm so happy you knocked me over and stole my first kiss in front of everyone! Next time, we should make out on stage in an amphitheater!' How's that?"
Shikamaru studied her. "Sounds like fun," he replied blandly. "Although instead of an amphitheater, make it an arena. We'll bring in more money."
The blonde girl gaped, thrown off guard by such a forward answer. Was Shikamaru flirting with her?
The shocked expression she wore made him laugh out loud, and it was not long before she joined in.
"I guess I set myself up for that one," she admitted once the laughter died down.
"Mm," Shikamaru agreed, flopping onto his back with his hands clasped over his stomach. Sloe-black eyes fixed upon her. "You know, my face is running out of places for you to hit. You're going to have to be more creative next time."
Now that he had drawn attention to it, the lump on the side of his cheek became the only thing Ino could focus on. Damn…I didn't think I slugged him that hard. "Oh Shika, I'm sorry."
"I've heard that before."
Ino bristled. "So my apology isn't good enough for you? I really am sorry!"
"I know," he quickly held up his hands as a sign of peace. "I know. I was only kidding."
Again. He made me look like a melodramatic ninny again, she realized with shame, averting her tear-filled eyes. Is this really the type of person I am? Flying off the handle over every little thing, hurting the people I love the most? I'll bet he hates me for sure now. The tears began to spill down her face, though she made no move to check them.
Shikamaru, who had not expected the abrupt shift in her emotions, began to panic. His mother was notorious for her mood-swings, happy one moment and hysterical the next, however it was his father's job to deal with her in those instances, and Shikamaru could usually escape without so much as a scratch.
I have a new appreciation for what you put yourself through, Dad, he thought giddily as he sat back up and pulled her into his arms, hyper-aware of the way his heart thrashed around like a caged bird. I swore I'd never wind up like you, and then I went and made the same mistake of falling in love with the wrong girl. "What's this? There's nothing to cry about, silly. I'm fine!"
"No you're n—not," came the muffled reply. "I p—punched you and I s—shouldn't have!" Jerking out of his hold, she looked up at him, face red and puffy. "Why are you always so nice to me? I was horrible to you, and you act like nothing happened! I know this afternoon wasn't your fault, but I still blamed you anyway. Doesn't that make you angry?"
He remained silent for some time, face unreadable. "Well…I could waste energy and start stumping through the house muttering to myself about how stupid I am, but…I'd be even more stupid to get mad at you for being yourself. Maybe you do overreact more than you should," he shrugged, "so what? You always cool off eventually." And I'd never ask you to change, not for the world. He added silently. Though I'll probably regret that later…
Ino could hardly believe what she was hearing. She'd spent most of her adolescence doing whatever possible to catch Sasuke's eye, growing out her hair because she knew—or thought she knew—that he liked long hair on girls, almost severing her ties with Sakura, her best friend, for good, something she still regretted to this day. Shikamaru was different. He basically just told her she did not have to alter her personality or her looks around him, because he liked her the way she was. Hadn't she been dreaming for a person like him to come along, one who would accept her, flaws and all?
Of course, Shikamaru did not think his simple words would illicit another storm of weeping, and would have reconsidered opening his mouth at all if he had any idea. She's going to be the death of me… "Ino! Stop crying! There's nothing to—" When she wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face against the nape, he froze. "—cry about."
"Shut up," whispered Ino in exasperated good humor, "and hold me."
So he did.
Neither noticed the pairs of eyes that peeked through the tiny opening in the doorway, or the snickers accompanying them. They did notice the snide, "Aw, i'nt that adowabwe? They made up!" comment, and jumped apart as if touching each other burned. Sasuke, Lee, and Naruto flashed innocent grins before bolting, footsteps like a stampede dashing across the floor. Ino and Shikamaru exchanged a look.
"Shall we?" asked Ino, rising from the bed.
"Let's," said Shikamaru, also getting to his feet.
Kakashi and Anko were having a grand old time in the broom closet.
He had accosted her soon after she finished with her shower—a most unfair move, as she had nothing on but a towel and could not do much in the way of resistance or else the towel would have fallen off—and she could tell instantly that he was in high-class hunter mode.
The last time she saw this phenomenon, she wound up in a very compromising position, with not even a towel to protect her.
Oh no…not good…not good at all…was what her brain shouted; however her traitorous body seemed to feel otherwise. Carnal instinct often overrode reason whenever she got close to him, the calm part of her noted as his level, almost lazy gaze stared her down.
"That style of towel looks ravishing on you," he drawled, bracing himself on the doorframe of the bathroom—her only means of escape. The two of them—with the exception of Ino, who had locked herself in her room and showed no signs of coming out—were alone in the house, since everyone else was outside still, giving Kakashi the perfect opportunity to strike, and of course he took advantage of it.
Anko's eyebrow twitched. Bastard. "Why, thank you," she said demurely, staring back at him through her lashes. "Though I believe the terrycloth accentuates my curves better." Turning her back on him, she allowed the towel to slide off, pulling another from the rack nearby and wrapping it about her. "What do you think?" she asked over her shoulder, the picture of feminine virtuousness. Eat that, Hatake.
His expression remained a smooth mask. "I'd need to see more of a variety before I can form a solid opinion. A nude shade, perhaps?" He suggested, as earnest as a salesperson. You can't beat me at this game, Mitarashi, though it's so much fun to see you try. He grinned, and her composure began to splinter.
Damn it! This has got to end, now, or I'm cooked. Closing the scant distance between them, she jammed her finger against his rock-hard chest. "Look, I know what you're doing, Kakashi, and it's not going to work—" Whatever else she meant to say was cut off by the insistent pair of lips that captured hers.
"On the contrary," he said cheerfully once he released her, "it already has."
Mouth opening and closing, Anko glared, slapped him, and then threw herself at him, caution abandoned to the wind.
Naturally, everyone chose that moment to return to the house, and since the force of impact had sent them both sprawling into the hall, they had no choice but to find someplace to hide—which brings us back to the broom closet.
There is a certain thrill involved in risk-taking, which would explain why people nowadays do foolish things like throwing themselves out of airplanes or jumping off of cliffs with bungee cords. At any time, someone could have opened the closet in search of a broom—the proper objects to live in a broom closet—which would have been awkward indeed, however nothing of the sort happened. Some kind of ruckus seemed to be going on in the family room that involved quite a bit of shouting and throwing of random objects, leaving Kakashi and Anko in the clear—at least for the present.
Sakura became suspicious when her former sensei and his violet-haired companion had been missing for over an hour. It was nearing dinner time, and she knew they hadn't eaten earlier. Decorum stated that she should find them before everyone else sat down to eat, so she grudgingly began to search the house, ignoring the urge to join the game of euchre her friends engaged in around the kitchen table.
"I didn't even invite them here to begin with," she grumbled, poking her head under her bed. "Typical Kakashi…"
"Sakura-chan? What are you doing? Did you drop something?"
Startled, the pink-haired girl misjudged the distance between her head and the metal mattress-frame, her skull receiving a solid crack when she tried to get up. "Ouch!" she yelped, aggravated and in pain.
Naruto's eyes became like saucers. "I'm sorry!" He exclaimed, putting his hands on her shoulders as he sank down next to her. "I'm really, really sorry! I didn't mean to…I just…I didn't know where you were, so I came to look for you, and…yeah…" He trailed off when her piercing emerald eyes bored into his blue ones.
"Don't," she started to snap, but bit back her temper when she saw the pitiful look he gave her, "do that again, okay?" She finished in a more gentle tone.
"Right," nodded Naruto fervently. "So, uh…why were you under the bed, again?"
Head still throbbing, Sakura allowed him to help her stand. "Kakashi and Anko disappeared, and I was running out of places to look. Do you have any idea where they could be?"
"Hmm," Naruto scrunched his face in thought. "Did you try the broom closet?"
The broom closet? She stared blankly for a moment. "No, as a matter of fact, I didn't. What would they be doing in there, though?"
Naruto grinned, impish. "The same thing they'd be doing under our bed, I'd imagine."
At her folly, Sakura blushed scarlet. "Oh. Good point."
Chuckling, the blonde kissed her forehead and towed her out of the room. "Come on. Let's catch our delinquent guests."
They stopped in front of the closet, straining to hear over the din pouring out of the kitchen.
"Ow, Kakashi, watch it!" A feminine voice gasped.
"Oops," a male voice replied. "Sorry."
Giggles.
Naruto looked at Sakura.
Sakura looked at Naruto.
Both burst out laughing, at which point the discourse in the closet ceased.
"Sounds like you two are having fun," Naruto intoned dryly.
They heard arguing then.
"You do it!"
"No, you!"
"You're closer!"
"Oh, fine."
The door opened a crack, and Kakashi's head appeared. "Yo."
Sakura raised an eyebrow. "Yo to you, too." She attempted to peer around him to get a better look, but it was so dark that she couldn't see anything save the outline of Anko's hair. "Dinner's almost ready."
"Great! We'll be there in a minute," Kakashi told her before his head disappeared and the door closed.
More giggles.
"Well…that settles that," guffawed Naruto, already leading his girlfriend back to the kitchen and the game of euchre.
Sakura was still trying to decide whether or not she wanted to skewer them for behaving like irresponsible teenagers, or to ignore what she had just witnessed. After much contemplation, she chose to ignore it.
Later that evening, everyone gathered in the family room, where a large fire crackled in the hearth, to talk and enjoy each other's company. If anyone noticed how close Kakashi and Anko had gotten recently, they did not say a word, but rather kept their opinions to themselves. Shikamaru and Ino, too, seemed to have come to an understanding over that afternoon's events, and appeared quite friendly with one another, her legs draped across his lap.
Yes, everything was as it should be, our lovebirds—all of them—content. Even the storm that raged outside could do nothing to dampen their spirits. They were all inside, after all, in a dry, cozy cabin with a fire, so what was a little snow?
And then the power went out.
"Lovely," Sasuke deadpanned, the first to speak.
"Dude, I can't see the screen anymore!" Gaara protested, Link a tiny black blob on the GameBoy. The fire provided the only light in the house, and it wasn't much.
"Why don't you turn it off, then," Sakura suggested. "It won't kill you to become a part of the group for a little while."
"You know, this is the perfect night for a ghost story," Lee commented as the GameBoy sailed past his face.
Ino paled. "Ghost stories? I don't know…"
"Aw, don't be a wimp," Kakashi chided. "Anybody got a good one?"
Shikamaru rolled his eyes. Oh brother…ghosts aren't real…
Somehow, Naruto acquired a flashlight, which he flicked on right beneath his chin, the light reflecting eerily off his contorted features. "I'VE COME TO GET YOU! BWAH-HA-HA-HA!"
Anko, Sakura, and Ino screamed.
"Naruto, you jerk!" Sakura gave him a shove, heart pounding. The flashlight flew out of his grasp and spun in a circle on the floor, briefly illuminating all of the residents of the house, most of which were laughing.
"Well, there's the one about the sinkhole near the Hokage monument," Lee picked up the thread of conversation again.
"Heard it," Sasuke said. "Everybody knows that one."
"What about the strangled kid by the clover field?" Anko put in, bringing an amused smile to her silver-haired couch-mate's face.
"I remember when I was little, my friends dressed me up and stuck me out in the middle of that field to scare the girls they dared to go there."
The Special Jounin's jaw dropped. "That was you?" She cried, indignant. "I had nightmares for weeks!"
Amidst laughter, Kakashi affected his most pious appearance. "My dear Anko, I am not at fault here. If you must blame someone, blame Genma and Asuma. They were such evil children—" He could not finish his sentence, being under attack by a well-aimed pillow.
Ino, who had grown more apprehensive at the mention of ghosts, shifted a bit closer to Shikamaru, so that he was within grabbing distance. "I hate ghost stories," she whispered, foot jiggling, a nervous habit.
"I don't like them much, either," Shikamaru admitted, stilling the foot with a hand. Mischievous, he reached out and tugged on a lock of her hair. "I thought you weren't afraid of anything."
He referred to their days as Genins, of course, when she had appointed herself the leader of their team and strutted about like a peacock basking in the limelight. When it came to actual fighting, however, she often blurted out a nonsense excuse and fled, especially if she knew her opponent could crush her in a matter of seconds.
Now, years after the fact, it was quite funny, really.
"Hush," she retorted. "I've gotten better, and you know it."
"I suppose," he replied, grinning.
Sakura, silent for some time, could no longer keep quiet. "I know a story. It takes place in this very house."
Conversation in the room stopped, and all eyes fixed on her, the merry crackle of the fire magnified by the sudden stillness. When she was sure that no one would interrupt, she began to narrate in hushed tones, the way that her father did whenever he told this story.
"About a hundred years ago, a man who owned a tarnished black violin traveled from town to town, playing on street corners, in pubs, anyplace he could stand where the music would carry. People came from miles around to hear his violin, the sound different to every individual. Some said it reminded them of a woman weeping, others claimed the violin sang to them in the voices of loved-ones beyond the grave. No matter where he played, the man always attracted a crowd, and the people loved him as they feared his haunting violin.
"And they were right to fear, for the violin had a personality of its own, one that was full of malice. The man never stayed behind after a performance, but stole away to a place where he would be completely alone, because the violin toyed with his thoughts once the music faded, enveloping his mind with darkness. The violin needed blood, transferring its lust to the man who lived for his music. Day after day, the man fought to remain in control of his inhuman urges, and with each day that passed, he grew weaker. You see, he traveled because he did not want to form attachments, did not want to develop a fondness that would keep him rooted in one place. If he did, the nefarious spirit of the violin would triumph. But every human yearns for a place to call his own, and eventually the man, even though he tried to resist, fell in love."
Sakura looked around at her friends, all of whom stared back at her, riveted, even Gaara, though he feigned disinterestedness, and rather badly, at that. Pleased, she continued.
"His wife was a kind woman, very beautiful, and she loved the man with all her heart. He built this house for her in the mountains, because she enjoyed the atmosphere and the animals that made their homes nearby. She never asked her husband why he insisted she stay away after he played his violin, though she could not help but worry. His health had slowly begun to deteriorate, and his temper, normally mild and caring, turned bestial. He threw tantrums over the smallest of things, ranting and raving, though he did not hurt her. He never hurt her.
"Then one day, when her husband had gone off to visit the doctor in town, the woman went into the attic, where she knew he kept the violin. As soon as she rested her fingertips against the wood, she felt coldness deep in her bones, and a dry rasp whispered in her ears, and she understood why her husband had changed. The violin needed to be destroyed. It was a thing of evil, an evil that now possessed her husband. Without a second thought, she dashed the violin upon the ground, where it shattered into pieces.
"The man returned soon after, and he seemed more restless and agitated than usual. He ate the dinner his wife prepared without so much as a word to her, his eyes continually straying to the fireplace. Something was wrong. The fire burned brighter than it should have, the flames like talons cleaving the air. What did you put in the fire, he asked his wife. Nothing, she replied, only the wood you brought home yesterday. But she did not look at him when she spoke, and he knew she was lying, knew what served as kindling to the ravenous flames. The violin. His beloved violin. His abhorrent violin.
"Before she died, her husband's hands stained with her blood, his wife lovingly caressed his cheek, her own face a mask of pain, and slipped away, his name frozen for eternity on her lips.
"The spell of the violin was broken. The man, seeing what he had done, howled in anguish, and his cries echoed like the baying of a wolf. No one knows what happened to the man, only that he was found a few days later lying in a pool of dried blood, his hands cut off. They say he still wanders to this day, searching for his hands, and that the spirit of the violin lingers near the attic, waiting for a new victim to ensnare. You can even hear it play, ever so softly, if you listen hard enough."
As if to provide the final accompaniment, the fire in the hearth gave a loud 'POP,' making everyone jump, including Sakura.
"Well, now that you've sufficiently scared the crap out of all of us, I think I'm going to bed," said Shikamaru once he found his voice. Raising a questioning eyebrow at Ino, who clutched him so tightly he believed his circulation would be cut off, she nodded and stood up with him, though did not relinquish her hold on his arm.
"Swell idea, Lee," Naruto grumbled, the hair on the back of his neck raised. "Oh, let's tell ghost stories! I'm lucky if I get two winks of sleep…"
"Bah," Gaara scoffed. "There's no such thing as ghosts. 'Ooo! An evil violin!' Whatever." Rolling over on his side, he put an end to his stint as 'part of the group' and went to sleep.
"He's got the right of it," Kakashi motioned to the lump that was the Sand-nin. "I've had enough excitement for one day. Why don't we all turn in for the night?"
"Part of that excitement you brought on yourself," Sasuke pointed out drowsily.
Kakashi ignored him; Anko winked at the dark-haired Uchiha.
When Naruto and Sakura, who fumbled their way in the pitch black to their room, were settled in bed, Naruto turned to his girlfriend and asked, "Was all that stuff true? About the house, and the violin, and…the hands?"
She giggled, snuggling next to him under the blankets. "I have no idea. My dad used to gather us around when it was really stormy out and tell that one, but he probably made it up. He loves getting a rise out of me and my mom. It's like a game to him." A yawn so large made her jaw creak. "Go—od night, f—ox."
"'Night, Sakura-chan," he whispered into her hair, holding her a bit tighter for security. One never knew if a ghost would appear, after all.
Ino swore left and right that she heard a violin. She'd been able to tune it out for the first hour or so, but after three hours of lying with her eyes closed, convinced that if she opened them she'd find a handless homicidal maniac floating at her bedside, she'd had enough.
"Shika."
He twitched slightly.
"Shiiikaaa," her lips were at his ear.
Another twitch, followed by a swipe. Damn bugs…
"Shika!"
"AUGH!"
He sat bolt upright. Twisted his head to the side. The little blonde devil glared at him as if she were the one who'd been traumatized. How kind.
"What, Ino?" The words were measured, calm.
"Are you angry?"
Shikamaru sighed. Not four in the morning, and the circus had already come to town. "What's the matter?" Clever ploy, to bypass accusations with an 'I care more about your problems' question, and use body language to prove sincerity.
It worked.
"I heard the violin."
Cue in the dancing elephants.
Determined to salvage the rest of the night, Shikamaru allowed his body to fall back to its previous position. "Go to sleep, Ino," he mumbled, coherency abandoned.
"Shika!"
Pretend like I can't hear…
"Shika!" She hissed.
Don't move, remain as stone…
Ino tried one last tactic. After years of friendship, she memorized each of his ticklish spots, and could locate them at will.
"AUGH!"
Once again, Shikamaru propelled himself from the mattress, a slight tingle beneath his ribcage where he'd been poked. Breathing heavily, he stared at Ino, trying very hard to defeat the urge to launch her through a wall.
"There is no violin," he bluntly remarked. "You're imagining things because your brain's on overdrive."
"I'm telling you, I heard a violin!" She insisted, crossing her arms over her chest. "I can't sleep anymore!"
Why me? Shikamaru implored to whoever it was that oversaw the lives of mortals on earth. Why? "And what do you expect me to do about it?"
"I…I don't know!" She spluttered, irritated that he didn't have a clever solution right away. He was Shikamaru, after all, and Shikamaru was supposed to know what to do, being a supreme genius. "Go out there and…make it stop!"
Go out there and make it stop. Charming. "How can I make something that I can't hear stop, huh?"
Wrong thing to say.
Ino appeared as if she were preparing to claw his eyes out. "Nara Shikamaru," –he winced. Whenever females called him by his full name, he knew trouble lurked— "If you don't go out there and stop that…that thing, you're not sleeping in this bed anymore."
And that's final, he added silently, resigned. Ino would remain true to her word if he did not do as she requested, and the prospects for his future sleeping arrangements looked grim indeed. Sharing a bed with Ino, no matter how demanding she could be, was far better than sharing a couch with Sasuke or Lee or Gaara.
"All right, all right," he grumbled, lurching to the door and flinging it open. Inky black darkness greeted him, the kind that makes it difficult to maneuver around in without procuring wounds. Great. Just great—"WAH!"
"YEAUGH!"
"Ghost!" shrieked Ino, who had torn from the room and barreled into Shikamaru, whose heart currently tried its hardest to escape from the confines of his chest.
A wobbling beam of light, held in the hands of Sakura, sliced through the blackness. "Ino? Shika?"
"Yeah," was Shikamaru's disgruntled reply. "Why are you guys up? Don't tell me—"
Naruto, more than a tad jumpy, supplied, "I heard the violin, I'm serious!"
"Me too!" declared Ino. "I've been hearing it all night—"
"Yeah! So have I!"
Shikamaru and Sakura exchanged bemused glances before their little gathering acquired some new members. Kakashi, Anko, and Sasuke bumped and blundered their way down the hall, arms outstretched to feel for potential obstacles.
"So, I take it you guys have a case of the willies too, eh?" Kakashi asked as he neared them. "Anko wouldn't shut up about the damn violin—Oy! Be gentle!"
Though they couldn't really see her face, it was obvious that the Special Jounin directed a scowl at her companion. "Next you're going to accuse me of losing my mind—"
"Hold it!" Sasuke practically shouted, utter exhaustion affecting his mood. "We're not accomplishing anything by bickering, and some of us want to get back to bed," he glared around the circle of people, "so could we please decide on a course of action now, before the entire night's completely wasted? For starters, someone should check out the attic. The sound's most likely coming from there."
Naruto had the grace to appear sheepish on account of his part in disrupting the sleep of others, though not sheepish enough to volunteer himself to investigate. "I think Kakashi should do it. He's the oldest."
"Not by choice," the silvery-haired man protested. "Make Sakura go. It's her house."
"Me?" squeaked the girl in question. "Hell no! I've only been there once, and I swore I'd never go again!"
A soft shushing noise like feet ghosting over loose floorboards echoed above them. Ino uttered a silent scream, and flung herself into Shikamaru's arms. He took the opportunity to voice his opinion.
"How about Gaara and Lee? Carrot-top doesn't believe in ghosts, so he won't be afraid to look, and Thick-Brows is so gung-ho about playing hero that he'll jump at the chance to save the day."
Brilliance personified, that Nara Shikamaru. In the end, his brains proved their worth, even if it took them a while to get things right.
And so it was that Konoha's Green Beast and the Demon of the Sand, once enemies, now reluctant comrades, ventured into the deep unknown, valiantly disregarding their own well-being to dispel the fears of their friends—well, at least one half of the duo convinced himself of that, anyway.
"It's so convenient for them to have me here," Gaara growled, almost missing a step on the way up the old, wooden stairs to the attic. A series of curses later, he continued on, "never mind that I may have my own agenda, and it does not include sniffing about for phantom violins, damn it!"
Lee spared a glance over his shoulder at his brother-in-arms, one brow cocked. "You're not scared, are you, oh mighty one?"
The Sand-nin's eyes narrowed dangerously. "I'll shatter your bones again if you continue to spout crap, so help me—"
"Shh!" ordered Lee, waving a hand to silence his companion. "Listen."
Scrape…scrape…scrape…
Gaara, who experienced a brief moment of alarm, shook his head to clear it of the cobwebs that seemed to have settled there. Stupid…calm down! "A mouse," he commented breezily, "those critters thrive in attics."
Lee still appeared unsure, and held his flashlight a bit higher to expand the diameter of the beam of light it emitted as he labored up the remaining stairs. "Ah, here we are."
As they stepped onto the landing, the attic, a wide storage area filled to the brim with clutter, stretched before them. A thick layer of dust had settled on every surface; sheets once white, now stained yellow, had been draped over the larger pieces of furniture—Lee uncovered an antique writing-desk and two armchairs, while Gaara found a table, in whose legs had been carved interesting, ornate designs.
"Well…this is definitely an example of your standard attic," Lee admitted, somewhat crestfallen. A tiny part of him hoped for a bit of an adventure, though it certainly did not seem like he would find one presently.
Gaara, on the other hand, harbored no disappointment whatsoever. The attic was cold, and his warm couch and blanket beckoned. "Pointless," he sniffed. "They're all delusional juveniles. I knew we wouldn't find anyth—" He froze.
Nearby, Lee's chortle died in his throat.
Through an open window, the only one in the attic, an icy wind blasted against their faces, scattering dust particles and producing an eerie, whistling cry—but that was not what made their blood run cold.
"WAHHH!" The two chorused in unison, clinging together like terrified children.
"V—v—v—" Lee stuttered.
"Violin," croaked Gaara.
Sea green pupils locked with black.
Somewhere, disembodied hands played a series of notes eerie enough to make skin creep.
"What do we do?" Lee mustered the courage to whisper.
Gaara swallowed. Don't panic…whatever you do… "I have no clue." He admitted, and it was like pulling teeth.
The Green Beast thought long and hard. Gai sensei…If this were you, you wouldn't run away! I know it! You'd stand up like a man! He pictured his beloved sensei, spandex jumpsuit and all, and heard his voice bestowing encouragement. "Lee! You have the power of youth! Do not fear what you cannot see, but forge on ahead! Make me proud, Lee!"
Unholy fire burned in his eyes. "Sensei! I won't let you down!"
Eh? Oh lord…he's mental…thought Gaara as he watched Lee plant his feet and put his fists on his hips. Sensei…HA! The kid's obsessed, I swear…
"Whoever you are, come out and fight like a man, coward!" shouted the dark-haired boy into the inky blackness. "Have you no honor, fiend?"
The Sand-nin rolled his eyes. "You're about as scary as a fuzzy pink bunny," he remarked, shoving the other boy aside. "GET OUT HERE NOW, YA YELLOW-BELLIED BASTARD WANNABE!"
In reply, a violent gust of wind sent random knick-knacks tumbling to the floor with a crash.
"AUGH!"
Gaara scrambled for cover behind an armchair; Lee dove beneath the table. Those eerie notes had gotten louder, closer since the Sand-nin's challenge. Their ghost, apparently, did not take kindly to insult.
"Gaara?" Whispered Lee.
"Yeah?" He whispered back, hair on end.
"I'm not keen on dying in an attic."
A pause. "Me neither."
"Have your flashlight?"
"Yeah."
"Okay. Count of three, we'll shine 'em at the center."
"How's that gonna help?"
"When in darkness, always look to a light to guide your path."
Gaara's tell-tale eye gave a twitch. "Spare me the philosophy lesson," he snapped, then heaved a sigh. "Let's just get this over with."
Lee grinned. "Ready? One, two, three!"
Two beams of light met near the center of the room, casting a soft glow over the spilled items, which included some silverware, a framed picture, a baby doll, and—
Both Gaara and Lee, who shared a similar mindset and found everything about this situation remarkably hilarious all of a sudden, began to giggle hysterically, tears streaming from their eyes.
A tiny music box wrought in the shape of a violin, glazed in a glossy, ebony hue, rested on its side, lid ajar. This particular box was the type designed to play if the lid was open, releasing a catch that caused a small, cylindrical device to turn, emitting a soft, tinkling pre-determined melody.
Everyone gathered around at the foot of the stairs as the two triumphant ghost-busters appeared, carrying their spoil of war. Gaara thrust the music box into Sakura's hands, stated, "There's your ghost, pansies," and made a beeline for his couch, on which he promptly collapsed. Lee paused long enough to smile his Gai-esque smile, and followed.
Sakura gawped at the object she held. "Wow…I completely forgot about this thing. It was my grandfather's."
"Wonderful," said Sasuke. "Mystery solved. Can we go to sleep now?"
"Fabulous idea," Shikamaru nodded, eyelids seeming to weigh a ton each. "And no more ghost stories, eh?"
Nobody voiced any disagreement.
When all of the members of the mountain-house party were safe in their beds—or couches—and fast asleep, a violin began to sing a lilting, mischievous tune, as if it had been the author of a masterful jest.
The music box rested on Sakura's dresser, lid closed.
Hee-hee! Couldn't resist a little bit of spooky fun. What's going to happen next? I really have no idea. This story has already ballooned into something much larger than I originally anticipated, so we'll see where my muse takes me, eh? Oh, and for all of you keeping up with the manga…in the event that a certain heinous thing (you know what I'm talking about) does in fact take place, this story will remain unaltered, even though it's going to hurt like hell writing future chapters..:sniffle: