(Author's Note: Please remember to review, if you're reading! Have a question, or a comment? Liked what you read? Didn't like what you read? Thought it could be improved? Then, by all means, tell me! Warnings and disclaimers apply to all chapters. Special thanks to Ruby Love, who originally beta'ed this chapter.)

And the Beat Goes On
Chapter 36: Clear My Head

First, there was the unmistakable sound of metal scraping metal. Then, there was more unidentifiable noise, screeching and screaming from all directions. Sensation and disorientation followed hot on the noise's heels, and over and over, head over heels went the vehicle. The metal banged against the asphalt, squealed against more metal. Paint was stripped away.

Surprisingly, Iruka could think of nothing. He could see everything - the flying metal, the shattering glass, and the occasional red that was blood - sweep across his vision, but nothing registered. It was blurry.

He didn't feel sick, except because they were going over and over, like they were on some sort of twisted roller coaster. He didn't feel scared, or worried, because he could hear Konohamaru screaming, somewhere in the melee - or maybe that was him? The blood wasn't making him squeamish like it should have - was it his, or someone else's?

And then, the ride stopped, screeching to a halt, suddenly, throwing his head back against the seat. He thought he might have heard his neck snap, but he couldn't tell. The air was too confused with noise.

The seatbelt was cutting into him, and the entire world seemed upside down. The windshield seemed to be gone, replaced by dirt and turf. It was funny; he didn't remember the glass shattering, flying out at them from all directions.

If he glanced sideways, to the right, he could see that the glass of the window clung painfully to the frame of the car. If he glanced to his left, he could just vaguely see what he thought might be Kakashi, lying across the steering wheel, like some sort of broken doll.

There was more noise now. Sirens run in his ears, and echoed in the air. There was not a second's silence, and he couldn't breathe, because when he inhaled, there was smoke and dust and pain. He coughed, but nothing came.

The noise was dizzying, spinning all around him - brakes, tires screeching, horns and sirens, and yelling, yelling, yelling! There were people yelling, in voices he didn't think he'd ever recognize, and now, burning; the sound of everything being too, too hot.

There was screaming again, which might have been him, and then, he could see someone's leg, covered in a dusty brown pant leg, spattered with black. This person was yelling now, but it was as if he was speaking in some foreign language. A face, marred with soot and ash, came close to the window and said something over the noise, but he didn't hear it.

He closed his eyes, and screamed, though there still was no noise, no breath, and metal was painstakingly wrenched open, pried apart. It screamed and squealed at its torture, and at last, gave in.

Hands were there now, in front of him, moving and blurring all together, making him sick with their frantic movement. A knife, pressed against him, and the fibres of his being were sawed away. The seatbelt frayed, then let go, and those hands began to pull him free.

The hands were attached to people, and they were moving him toward a white vehicle, with flashing lights. He tried to tell himself that he didn't hurt. His bruises screamed otherwise, and he shut his eyes, trying to forget. He still couldn't breathe.

He wanted to look back, and he wanted to see Konohamaru and Kakashi getting out of that car, but when he turned about, there were people in the way. He wanted to scream at them, but he was too senseless, too breathless to do anything more than be herded along to the ambulance. He was shaking now; badly. He wanted to fall down. He wanted to gag. All he could taste was ash, and burning human hair. He stumbled.

There was blood on his forehead, and glass stuck in his arm. He didn't care. He just didn't care. He shook, and he sat there and he looked back toward the wreck, waiting for Kakashi and Konohamaru.

He couldn't see. There were still people in the way. There were people all about him-talking to him, asking him things, asking each other things. Someone draped a blanket about him, and went away.

There was still no Kakashi, and there was still no Konohamaru. He waited, and he waited, but still no one emerged from that wreck. With every passing second, he felt more and more like throwing up, and could taste the ash in the air. It became sharper and sharper, until it was tainted with the unmistakable scent of copper and human blood.

That stayed with him, even as the rest of the world blanked out, and became stark white. He could taste it in the very lack of substance behind his eyes.

He woke up, and everything was still very, very white. Everything smelled sterile; it stunk of sanitizers and antiseptics. The scent of blood and ash pervaded even that overriding odour. It blended, and it made him gag.

It was very quiet. There was the soft beeping of some machine, but beyond that, silence reigned supreme. He wondered for a second if he was dead. The sun was shining outside, and the sky was very, very blue. But he was inhaling and it hurt.
He remembered the seatbelt, and he laid his hand lightly over his chest, wincing, and felt the abrasions. He settled back against his pillow, and closed his eyes, trying to remember that he had to breathe, despite the terrible pain it caused him.

He drifted, for a long while, in and out of sleep, and back and forth across conscious states. Some nameless people in white came and went, but he didn't pay them any mind. They didn't ask any questions, so neither did he. He didn't want to ask the question he needed an answer to. The words, the thoughts made his mouth go dry.

He waited in silence.

Footsteps came to him very late in the afternoon, or he thought it was the late afternoon. That gait belonged to Naruto. The blond was alone, because there were no more footfalls behind him, or in front of him.

He cracked open an eye as the door cracked open. There was Naruto, peeking in, like a scared child, timid and unsure. "Iruka," he said, so, so softly, and it broke Iruka's heart because his Naruto was not quiet.

The blond boy shuffled in, empty-handed and alone. "Naruto," the brunet mumbled, closing his eye again.

The blond shuffled into the room, and shut the door behind him. He scuttled over to the bed and sat down. "How are you, Iruka?" he asked, his tone still muted.

The brunet shrugged. "Okay, I suppose," he murmured.

He wasn't hungry for talk. He didn't want to discuss all his pains. He wanted to know what had happened back there. He wanted to know where Kakashi and Konohamaru were. He bit his tongue, and forced the words not to come. He didn't think he could bear it if Naruto had to tell him.

"Iruka," Naruto mumbled, and put his head down on the brunet's blanket.

Iruka reached down and stroked the boy's golden locks. They were rough and tumbled, but he didn't mind. They were just like Naruto. They were loud, obnoxious and they didn't lay down when they were told to. He smiled a bit, though it seemed to crack his head in two.

Naruto wasn't looking at him, which was not a good thing. He tried to just be happy that Naruto was there. He was not alone. He could feel the blond's warmth and he wanted to hug him, just to make sure he was really there.

"Have they told you yet?"
The blond's voice made Iruka's waning smile evaporate. It was harsh, and it grated on the air, like broken shards, poking and prodding, pushing in and staying imbedded. Iruka didn't like that tone. In fact, it scared him a bit. It warned, and it foreshadowed things to come.

"No," he replied, feeling breathless with anticipation, and sick with nervousness.

He faltered, his hand getting tangled in Naruto's locks, and he was shaking so badly he could barely pull them free. He didn't want to hurt Naruto.

He was trapped now, a prisoner of adrenaline and his own fear. He dreaded what Naruto had to say to him. The blond delayed, rolling his head, so that his face was trapped between blanket and himself, cutting himself off from the atmosphere most human beings needed to survive.

"Iruka," Naruto mumbled again, and trailed off.

Iruka wanted to shake him now, and scream at him to tell him what was going on. What had they not told him yet?

"They're dead," Naruto mumbled, so softly, Iruka thought he'd misheard him.

The breath was thumped out of him by those words, and his heart stopped, for a split second, then resumed thumping at a furious pace, fuelling his raging thoughts.

"Dead?" was all he could manage, strangled under the meaning of the word; the real meaning of the word.

Naruto nodded, and the lines of his face were clear cut. Iruka had the insight to know that this wasn't one of Naruto's sick jokes. "Dead," he repeated, the sound of his own voice dull and dusty.

Naruto pursed his lips, and sat up just a bit. "Kakashi-sensei was dead before they got there."

Iruka closed his eyes and started to shake his head. He couldn't wrap his mind around the concept. Kakashi, though he'd been easy going and lazy, had been full of life, and he simply couldn't imagine lying beside the corpse of that vibrant man. They'd spoken, just that morning, and he simply couldn't not be there, not going to talk ever again. It was impossible.

"And Konohamaru," Naruto droned.

"No," the brunet said, and shook his head, fighting to keep the tears at bay. "No, just no. There's no way. . ."

"I'm sorry, Iruka! I'm so sorry," Naruto was saying, and Iruka could hear the apologetic, pathetic tone that pervaded the teenager's voice, and how it trembled.
"No, no, no. . .I was talking to him, and now. . ."

The man stopped himself short, and for a second, struggled to pull himself together, before falling all apart again. The tears came freely at last, and flowed. He choked and he sobbed, and he wheezed, but none of it would breathe life into a corpse.

He sniffed, loudly, and through his tears, managed to say, "And Konohamaru?"

He looked up at Naruto, who had no words to say, and no consolation to offer any longer. He was in silent tears himself, and was so choked with them, his voice had been drowned.

"I'm sorry!" he cried at last, his voice ragged, as if it had been dragged over a bed of nails. "I'm so sorry, Iruka!"

The blond scrubbed at his eyes, and then, took a deep, shaky breath. "Konohamaru. . .He died on the operating table. There was glass, inside his head, and. . ."

Iruka shook his head. "Don't say any more."

"Iruka," Naruto started.

"Shh. Not a word."

The blond obeyed and fell silent. He wrapped his arms about Iruka's neck, and nestled his head in the crook of the older man's shoulder. Iruka stroked the golden tresses lightly, and found them to be slightly comforting. Naruto was still here, and Naruto was still strong, like the sunshine outside the window.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Naruto had not wanted to leave Iruka there, in the hospital, but he'd been forced to obey the codes and rules of the establishment. Visiting hours were long past over when they'd finally asked him to leave. He'd gone, rather quietly for who he was, and he'd left Iruka there, in the darkness, in sorrow.

He managed to catch a ride on one of the city buses, and he went from one end of town to the other, watching the lamp lights flicker by, and then be swallowed up by dark again. It was like the endless cycle of day and night. The day broke with new light and was just as quickly replaced with shadows. Then, the day broke again, with the same brilliance. It made him feel dreadful inside to think that time went on forever like this, even when Konohamaru and Kakashi were gone. The same would happen when he passed on. He couldn't even begin to contemplate dying.

He shivered despite the fact that the heater was on, and the vehicle warm. He wrapped his arms about himself, and tried to stave off the bitter chill of his thoughts. In his mind, death was dark, cold and dreary. It had to be, because life was bright, warm and vibrant. At least, life was like that most of the time.

He got off at his stop, and walked the rest of the way to Sasuke's house. Iruka had made him promise not to spend the night alone. Naruto didn't know if he would be able to handle going home until Iruka was back. The big house would be too quiet, and empty. Every crack of the floorboards would be too loud and remind him that death had visited.

The door was unlocked. There were lights on in the house, and it reminded him that people lived here. He didn't bother to knock. He simply breezed right into the house. He took off his shoes at the front door, and shut out the night behind him.

Sasuke had been waiting for him. The other boy made that fairly obvious with how readily he got up, and sauntered toward the door, though he tried to hide it. Naruto didn't say anything. Nor did Granny Uchiha, who had been sitting on the sofa with her great-grandson, though it was clear by the way her eyes darted in their direction that she wanted to.

"Would you like some dinner?" Sasuke asked, jamming his hands into his pockets.

Naruto shook his head, and hung up his coat in the closet. "No thanks," he mumbled. "I'm not really that hungry."

He brushed by the other boy, and went upstairs. He wanted to be alone right then, but he couldn't be because this was not his home. He heard Sasuke following him.

He paid no heed. He went into Sasuke's bedroom, finding it the next best thing to his own room, and a sort of cold comfort. At least everything here was familiar.

The door shut now, clicking and locking, and all the light was blocked out of the room, except for the sliver where it crept between the door and the floor. The mattress springs squeaked when Sasuke sat down on the bed.

"What happened?" he asked.

He reached out to touch the blond's hair, to pet him, but Naruto jerked viciously away. He wasn't going to show Sasuke how weak he was. He didn't need to be coddled, and tonight, stroking his hair was strictly reserved for Iruka.

He shrugged, and remained silent, looking into the shadows, trying to discern black from black. Sasuke reached out for him again, and again, he tugged away. "Is Iruka-sensei okay?" the dark-haired boy asked him.

"Yes," Naruto mumbled, burying his head in the covers. "Just a few bruises and such."

"Kakashi-sensei?"
Naruto bit his lip. "He's dead."

That statement shut Sasuke up, but only for a second or two. "Konohamaru?" came the voice, almost timidly. That was nonsense. Sasuke was afraid of nothing.

"Dead too," Naruto replied, steeling his voice, trying to keep it cold.

Sasuke was silent. Neither one of them had anything to say for what seemed like eternity. Naruto watched the shadows play across the walls, and he felt tears prick at his eyes. Tonight seemed too dark to be real, as if the world would never light up again.

"Naruto. . ."

Sasuke was hesitant about the move he made next, but he made it anyway, only to be swatted away like a fly. Naruto grumbled. He didn't want pity. He didn't want sympathy. He didn't even want affection. He wanted to beat something up. Why the hell was everything so unfair!

"Leave me alone," he muttered, turning over and drawing the tangled blankets about himself. He struggled to hold back a sob.

Sasuke chewed his lip, watching Naruto struggle with the demons of life and death. He wanted to help, but how could he? He was still fighting to accept the truths and realities he'd been given as an eight-year old boy. He offered no solace. He wasn't an example of how you could win over the demons, of how you could defeat them and triumph.

"Naruto," he said, and tried to touch the other boy again.

"Fuck off, Sasuke!" the blond yelled, sitting up suddenly, nearly catching the older boy in the face with his foot. "I don't want to talk about it!"

He glared at Sasuke. "And don't you dare tell me that I should talk about it! You never talk about your problems!"

Sasuke scowled, but said nothing. If there was one thing he hated, it was being criticized about keeping quiet. So what if he liked to keep himself and his emotions confined to four walls? He was safer this way. Nobody was supposed to be able to pick him apart if he didn't say anything.

"If you talk, I'll listen," he muttered at last, the words coming out as more of a threat than a promise.

Naruto snorted. "That's the way it's always worked. I talk, talk, talk and never shut up, and you never, ever open up! I feel like I don't even know you!"

Naruto turned his back on the older boy, huffing and crossing his arms. He caught a glimpse of Sasuke's expression just before he faced the shadows again, and he felt a self-satisfied smirk creep over his lips and force them up.

Sasuke looked a bit like he'd had the wind knocked out of him. His face was tense, and his lips were drawn tightly together, making them appear thinner than they were. "You're right," he said finally. "You don't know me."

"And if I don't know you, how can you know me?" Naruto grumbled, not daring to turn around now.

"Naruto," Sasuke started, in that chiding tone of his that Naruto had come to despise.

He whipped around again, jabbing his finger into Sasuke's face. "No! Don't you even start with me! You don't know me, so how can you pretend to understand me! You don't even know what it's like to be alone!"

Sasuke's eyes narrowed dangerously. "I don't know?" he asked.

Naruto didn't back down. "You're always prancing about saying, 'Leave me alone, leave me alone!' You wouldn't be saying that if you knew what it was like!"

"Maybe you wouldn't seek affection like you do, you moron, if you knew that people are just out to hurt you!"

They scuffled, for a bit, yelling and trying to prove that their situation was worse than the other's, until Naruto hollered, "You don't know what it's like to lose everything you ever had!"

Sasuke stopped dead at that, and backed off, slinking away into the shadows to brood. Naruto sat up, shaking out his hair, smirking, despite his black eye. He'd hit a nerve and he knew it. Silence pervaded the room.

When Sasuke's voice cut through the darkness, it was almost as thick and heavy as the shadows in Naruto's mind. "My parents. . ."

The wound was open fresh now, and Naruto could see Sasuke's back turned to him, hunched slightly, indicating Sasuke's desire to escape the world right then. Naruto tried to think of something to say, but any sympathy he had was all dried up.

Sasuke didn't say anything more, and they sat in the shadows for such a long, long time.

- - - - - - - - - -

Sasuke remembered standing out in the cold, in the snow. He remembered standing there, in his short-sleeved pyjamas and just watching, waiting, with eyes half-filled with tears for someone to tell him this was all a joke. He waited for the car to come up the road in the snowy night, and turn into the driveway. He waited for his parents to come back.

The shadows died away, and the dawn came creeping. An eternity had passed, to an eight-year-old at least, and when Sasuke dragged himself inside the house, cold, hungry and tired, he was something else.

He had caught a terrible cold, but it had been worth it.

He was through with waiting now. He had realized, standing out there in the cold, that he had been waiting all his life. When he asked Itachi to help him with his homework, or to play a game with him like the elder brothers' of his friends did, the answer was always, "Later." And he had waited for this elusive 'later' to come.

He had waited for his parents, all the time, to recognize that he had done well on his report card, by his own standards, or that he had achieved a good grade on the test. When he played any sport, he always waited for them to tell him he had done a good job, scoring the winning goal like he always did.

Instead, all he had ever garnered was a long suffering sigh, and a defeated comment that usually stung his ears. "Why can't you be like your brother?"

He had never been much like Itachi. He had been loud, whining and attention-seeking. He had clung to his mother's skirt, and he hid from relatives, until he thought he could impress them by doing something better than Itachi, or something special. But as his father had always said of him, his only specialty was making a nuisance of himself.

He waited so long for them to recognize him. But as he stood there, in the night, forgotten and waiting, he realized that they never would recognize him, just like they never were coming home. And he was through waiting for them.

He was still waiting for them, in a way. He never opened up to people, and he never stopped striving to be just like Itachi. He was always trying, so very hard, to impress them, even though they would never see him. He still struggled to be something he could never be, all for corpses.

His blood relatives forsook him, and left him to Itachi, who still replied only, "Later." He'd learned by now that "later" would never come. All people were to him were pain and misery, self-absorbed and arrogant, and so, he showed them just how they were, and became them. When he made someone feel inferior, or when he ignored someone and it made them mad, he had won the game. He had made them feel just how he felt inside.

He had been alone, no matter what Naruto thought. He knew what it was like, but he had been on the other side of the fence too. Parents were supposed to love their children no matter what. He'd been left with a choice: to be alone, and unhurt, or to try and loan what he could to people who did not care a scrap for him. He chose to stand alone, because that was what Itachi did. Itachi was always right.
Sasuke remembered all of that, as he sat there in the shadows and nursed unhealed wounds. He didn't know if Naruto was still awake at this point, so he addressed the darkness instead. "I want out," he said.

Naruto was still awake, and he showed it now by stirring, slightly. "Out?" he asked, his voice groggy and sleep-smeared.

Sasuke said nothing, and the shadows all around him seemed to stir to life, as Naruto sat up. "I want out," he repeated, his voice falling to a softer pitch, because he'd woken the shadows, and disturbed the darkness.

"You want out," Naruto repeated, brazenly, obviously not catching their meaning.

There was a pause. "Out of what?"

The shadows stopped. Sasuke didn't feel hidden in them any longer, but so exposed. Naruto was looking right at him, his eyes piercing and too bright in that impenetrable darkness. "I want out of this. Out of you and me."

It took Naruto what seemed like more than a minute to understand, and he said, "Oh," in a winded way when he did.

The bed springs squeaked and Naruto got up, slowly, so that the bed covers shifted, and the sheets came with him. "You want out."

Sasuke didn't bother to nod, or to reaffirm the statement. Instead, he looked at the floor. He watched Naruto's feet come toward him, slowly, steadily, and increasingly unsure of where to fall.

"It's over then," was the blond's next statement, and it was not a question.

The footsteps were sure again, and Naruto was gone, closing the door behind him.

- - - - - - - - -

Naruto didn't expect anyone to be up when he went to leave the house. He expected to slip off into the night and be done with it, just like that. Things would go back to the way they always had been. He would hate Sasuke, and Sasuke would go right on being perfect and acting better than everyone else.

He was, instead, apprehended, by the old Uchiha woman. She was standing at the bottom of the stairs, glaring up at him in that especially creepy way that Uchihas seem to have. "Where do you think you're going, young man?" she asked.
Her voice sounded frail, and thin in the night. It was a weary voice, one that was tired. She was old, older now in the night it seemed and she trembled with her age, walking bent under the weight of many long years.

She stood firm, however, without her cane now and she looked up at him. Her eyes were sunken deep into her wrinkled face. Her lips were drawn in a thin line, and she looked so severe, so like Sasuke, that she scared him.

"I'm going home," he said, trying not to let any sort of apprehension seep into his voice.

She caught the tiniest note in his tone, and set on him like a rabid dog. "What did you say to him?" she asked, her voice wicked and sharp now.

He bristled. Sasuke had wanted to break up, and now, this old bat was accusing him of being the perpetrator? He snarled. "It wasn't me. It was that bastard."

He stalked down the stairs, past her, and was just about to the door when she spoke again. "You know, he's just scared."

Naruto stopped, then sneered, "So what? He can be scared, for all I care."

The old woman sighed. "He's been waiting for someone to do what you've done for a long time now, Naruto."

The blond sneered. "Oh yeah? And you know how? You've been here, what? Three months. And you act like you know everything about him."

The old woman turned about now. "Sasuke's very easy to read. Or was. He was always trying to impress everyone."

She sighed again. "Most people just ignored him. Some of them told him he was a screw up."

Naruto was thoughtful, but only for a split second. "You're head of the clan. Why didn't you do something then?"

She shook her head. "I wasn't head of the clan, then. Sasuke's father was. He was always too preoccupied with Itachi. Itachi is the heir, after all. Sasuke didn't matter."

Silence fell between them. At long last, Naruto mumbled, "What has he been waiting for?"

The old woman shrugged. "Someone to think highly of him. Someone to hate him for being better than they are."

She hobbled off then, ignoring him as she went. She obviously had been up on some late night venture, rather than simply waiting to apprehend him should he try to leave via the stairs.
Naruto scowled and stuffed his feet into his shoes. He grabbed his coat from the closet and left.

He had to walk all the way home, because the buses had stopped running by the time he left. He didn't mind. The cold air chilled him to the bone, and made him icy. He kept his hands buried in his pockets, and he glared at the ground.

So, Sasuke had a superiority complex. Well, who was he to care? He wasn't going to play second fiddle to Sasuke, just so the jerk's head could swell up and he could believe he was cool. Naruto was not one to be pinned down by other people's whims.

He kicked at a rock on the ground. "This day sucks," he grunted, watching the rock start to roll down the hill he was walking down.

He'd go home, and sleep. Tomorrow would be a better day. Tomorrow, he would go see Iruka and. . .

"Fuck," he muttered, and scrubbed at his eyes. There was no use crying now.

He kept walking. He didn't dare look back.

- - - - - - - - -

Naruto had been gone for a long while, and Sasuke didn't mind. He was alone, at last, and he sat, turning the golden band he'd been given over and over in between his thumb and forefinger. The wane light that filtered in through his curtains from outside made it flash and glitter.

Presently, there was a knock at his door, and before he could say anything, his great-grandmother hobbled into the room. "Uchiha Sasuke," she said, "You have made an idiot of yourself."

He looked at her in confusion, and let his eyes drift back to the ring. The old woman blinked, then frowned. "It's even worse than I imagined," she muttered, and shut the door behind her.

She sat down on the bed beside her great-grandson. "I hope you didn't mean to say whatever it was you said to your boy toy," she said.

Sasuke coloured. "Gran," he grumbled, nearly dropping the ring.

Naruto was his 'boy toy'?

The old woman shook her head. "You wanted someone to pay attention to you, and he gave you that. You still bucked him. You really are stupid."

He didn't say anything. She stood up. "I do hope you do what's right for you," she said.
Then she was gone and the door was shut. He sighed heavily, and threw the ring to the bed. "I did," he muttered. "But I'm not sure I did what's right for us."

- - - - - - - - -

Ino glared at the battered apartment door. She scowled at it. Nothing changed however. The door was still battered and worn, and still highly inanimate. She knocked at it, with all the fury she could muster.

The hallway smelled strange, almost as if it were damp, or rotting. She felt choked by the scent, but she knew, once she was inside that apartment, she would need all the air she could get. The door remained steadily shut.

She wanted to know what the hell Temari had been doing with Sakura. Wasn't Temari with her? Honestly, the older girl made little to no sense at the best of times, and now . . .she was acting beyond nonsensical.

"Open up!" the blonde girl hollered, knocking on the door again.

The door pulled back as she drew her hand away and she found herself staring into green eyes. She blinked. "Sakura?" she asked, summoning the nastiest tone she could, to avoid letting Sakura in on her surprise.

"Ino?" the pink-haired girl said, quickly turning to the side, and snarling, "What do you want?"

"Where's Temari?" Ino barked, putting her hands on her hips. She wasn't going to take lip from Sakura, of all people!

"Right here," called a voice, and then, Temari was in the room, dressed only in her nightie. Ino took a second to notice that Sakura was wearing a pair of panties and a too-small t-shirt.

The older blonde girl pushed Sakura back into the apartment and leaned precariously out of the doorway, smirking at Ino. "Hello there, Ino-dear. Is there something the matter?" she asked, her tone too devious for her innocent seeming words.

Ino boiled. "Damn right there's something wrong, you bitch!"

Temari raised an eyebrow, but that was the only indication that Ino's choice of words offended her. "And what do you have a problem with, Ino-dear?" she said, her voice becoming sickly sweet and even more dangerous.

She dug her nails into the doorframe. She waited for Ino to rant, to rave, or to just explode and start screaming. It was only to see fireworks like that, that Temari did what she did. But Ino didn't go off in fireworks.
The younger blonde's eyes narrowed and she hissed, "You know damn well what the problem is Temari. Now, tell me why."

Temari blinked, and pulled back at bit. Ino was staying calm. Perhaps she hadn't calculated the girl as well as she'd thought? She frowned. "Why should I tell you?" she asked, taking a step backward, nudging Sakura's ankle with her own .

The pink-haired girl watched the exchange between Ino and Temari with growing fear and fascination. Part of her wanted to run and hide, but part of her wanted to stay, and see. Why were they fighting? And Ino had asked why. She wanted to know why too.

"Why?" Ino said, and she sounded almost incredulous, as if she was on the verge of hysteria. "You should tell me because I'm your girlfriend, Temari! Isn't that a good enough reason for you?"

Temari regarded the other blonde coolly. "I never said you were my girlfriend, Ino-dear. Did I? I'm sorry to have given you that impression."

Ino stared at her. "Not your girlfriend?" she asked, in a sort of dumbstruck tone, like someone who had been hit.

Temari shook her head. "Not at all. You don't mean very much to me, Ino-dear. I'm sorry to tell you that."

Ino frowned. Her eyes narrowed and she looked, in general, as if a storm had broken out on her face and it swept over her now, in a whirlwind of jealousy and hate. "You whore," she spat, then whirled on her heel and walked away.

Temari looked at the floor for a moment or two, thoughtfully, before she retreated into her abode. The door clicked shut behind her.

Ino continued her final march down that hall, stomping her feet as hard as she could against the old floorboards. They creaked and groaned in protest, but she didn't care. She fought at her tears, so hard she almost choked on them. She closed her eyes tight, and then, she started to run.

She ran hard, and the faster she ran, the more she felt like screaming. She wanted to scream at the world.

She didn't know where the need to scream, or the need to run came from. She didn't care about Temari, but now, she had no one.

She was mad. She hated the world. She hated losing, and she had lost badly this time. The stairs gave way beneath her feet, and things flew by in a flash. All at once, she was at the bottom, she was through the door, and then, she was outside, in the night.
She screamed. She screamed at last, long and loud, and she let the world hear her anger. She howled for a little while, at the moon and the stars, but they paid her no heed. Finally, breathless and with her throat ragged and hoarse, she abandoned her screaming, and sobbed.

She didn't dare stop walking though, and she kept struggling to hold herself in check. She tried to piece herself back together as she went, but she kept breaking down. She kept flicking off her tears with her fingers, and scrubbing her cheeks with her forearm. But the tears still came.

Back in the apartment, Temari was brooding. Sakura could say nothing to her, and had retreated, only a few minutes ago to the bedroom, possibly to find her clothes. Kankuro was lurking somewhere in the shadows, knowing better than to approach his sister after a show like that.

The blonde girl sat on the sofa, chewing furiously at a piece of gum, grinding it between her teeth. She liked to do that when she was angry. She turned on the television, and mindlessly, found some horrible movie on one of the late night channels.

She stared at the movie blankly, more concerned with her thoughts, her actions and her new plan. As the film rolled its credits, a smirk spread across the girl's face. She knew just what she would do next in this little soap opera of hers.

From his hiding place, Kankuro saw that smirk and scurried off to hide. Temari had an idea.

- - - - - - - - -