(Author's Note: Remember: if you're reading, please review! Warnings and disclaimers apply to all chapters. Chapter 41 will contain new content. Special thanks to Ruby Love, who originally beta'd this chapter.)

And the Beat Goes On
Chapter 40: Patchwork

Missing a day of school was one of those fine things, in Naruto's personal opinion. Missing a day of school to try and kick the shit out of some other school in a sport he knew he was good at was one of those imperatives in his life. Missing a day of school and having a chance to make out with Sasuke, while performing the aforementioned imperative of kicking some rival school's ass was, in the blond's humble opinion, a little slice of heaven.

Sure, they were dirty and sweaty. Sure, their uniforms had grass stains, and mud all over, and sure, their hair was plastered to their foreheads from the drenching rain. But, Naruto could get around all of that. So, there they were, in the locker room, by themselves and they had both made sure that the camera Genma-sensei kept in there was turned off. It seemed like it was going to be a good time.

Until, of course, they remembered they hadn't taken off their cleats yet. They remembered how dangerous said footwear could be, when Sasuke nearly caught Naruto in the face. They stopped, and they stared at each other for a moment, before Naruto said, "Maybe we need to take off our shoes."

With that, he pushed away from Sasuke and began to unlace his shoes. Sasuke looked like he was going to sulk for a moment or two, before he followed suit. As luck would have it, in their momentary pause, somebody walked into the locker room. Genma-sensei gave them a strange look, before he continued walking to his office. "Haven't you two left yet?" he asked, shuffling through some files before disappearing into the office.

The door shut and locked behind him. The two students stared after the teacher. Then, Naruto turned to Sasuke and said, in a low whisper, "Let's get out of here."

Sasuke nodded, and huffed, standing up. "I had no idea he was such a lecher," he grumbled, tugging his jersey over his head and changing into a t-shirt.

Naruto did the same. "Well, you know. He doesn't have a girlfriend, or whatever, so -"

Sasuke paused, half-way out of his shorts, and gave Naruto a look that clearly said, "Oh, you don't know?"

"Genma-sensei's not getting any 'cause Hayate-sensei's got . . .whatever the hell he's got," the older boy said, then quickly turned his attention back to his pants.
Naruto looked dumbstruck for a moment or two, before he glanced toward the office door. "They're together?" he hissed, his eyes narrowing as he glared at Sasuke.

The dark-haired boy shrugged, and started throwing things back into his gym bag. "That's what I've heard," he said, voice falling back to its regular monotone.

Naruto rolled his eyes. "That's what you've heard," he grumbled. "That is so reassuring."

Sasuke shrugged and closed the bag, the sound the zipper was making echoing, or seeming to, in the empty room. "I've also heard that Hayate-sensei's got AIDS."

Naruto stopped, pausing in the middle of his action. "Really? That's horrible," he said, and he looked down at his feet.

He frowned in thought. He knew the disease was something that homosexuals were more susceptible to, but he had never thought that it would affect somebody he knew personally, let alone a teacher. He thought about Iruka, and then, about Kakashi. Either one of them could have had it, and never known, and infected the other. It didn't matter so much to Kakashi now, but Iruka. . .what about Iruka? Iruka could have it. Iruka could be dying.

He glanced over at Sasuke, somewhat worriedly, and then, thought about Gaara, and then, his thoughts were thrown back to his dead mother, and what she had died of. He supposed it was so very easy to get sick. Why was something that was so good also so very dangerous for them?

Sasuke was glaring at him now, somewhat nervously. Naruto wondered why, then remembered he was probably staring, and shook himself free of his stupor. "Er. . .sorry," he mumbled, putting a hand behind his head.

Sasuke looked down in an instant. "You spaced out," he said, almost softly.

Naruto muttered another apology, and then, tossed his gym bag over his shoulder. "Ready to go?" he asked, turning about and making a move to go toward the door.

"Sure," Sasuke replied, following suit, and walking by him to the door, and then, out of it, into the hall. Naruto marvelled at the way Sasuke changed roles so easily, slipping from leader to follower, and back again in a few seconds.

He barely made it out the door before it swung shut again. It was a heavy door, and he had to put most of his weight behind it. Sasuke was waiting in the hall for him, impatiently. "Hurry up, slow poke," he said, though his tone, and his eyes held a note of something more than teasing.

Naruto stuck his tongue out at him. "Yessir," he said, and walked away from the door as it banged shut. He jogged part of the way down the hall, to where Sasuke was standing, and then, by him, toward their lockers. "Race ya there!" he called, and darted off.
Sasuke grit his teeth, but gave in to the chase nonetheless. He went a different route than Naruto, figuring he knew the faster way to their lockers. His feet pounded across the floor, down two flights of stairs, to the other end of the basement hall, and up another set of stairs, taking them two or three at a time.

He shot around a corner, and ran smack-dab into Naruto. "Ow!" the blond complained loudly, stumbling backward and rubbing his nose.

Sasuke refrained from whining, wincing or rubbing his nose. Instead, he settled for glaring at the other boy. "Dobe!" he barked. "What the hell are you doing over here? Your locker's that way."

He pointed to accentuate his point, and he jabbed his finger in the general direction that Naruto had obviously come from. The blond glowered at him from behind his hands. "I was there, and then I thought I lost you, so I came back to see if I could find you, your bitchiness."

Sasuke grumbled and crossed his arms. Naruto grinned broadly. "But," he chirped brightly, "I found you and that means, I won!"

"You did not," Sasuke shot back, growling. He really was a sore loser.

"I did so!" Naruto cheered, sticking out his tongue, childishly. Gods, how he loved to provoke Sasuke.

The older boy did something incredibly childish. He pushed Naruto. Naruto stumbled backward into a locker, and looked a bit stunned. Then, he growled and shoved Sasuke back. So, a war began and they pushed each other back and forth for several minutes, before they were locked in a bit of a stalemate. They grinned at each other. "Okay, teme, we'll have another race," the blond said.

"Sure," Sasuke replied. "This time, I get a head start."

Naruto shook his head. "Oh, no, no, no. No head starts, Uchiha. That's like. . .cheating."

"Are you saying you're a cheater, Uzumaki?"

They glared at each other for a moment or two, and then, still smirking, they let go of each other, at the same instance in time, and dashed off down the hall. Sometimes, their ability to read the other's motions was somewhat scary.

They were neck in neck most of the way down the hall, and to the locker. Sasuke won out at the last second, somehow managing to summon energy that Naruto didn't have after playing soccer like he was being chased by hell hounds all day. And so, Sasuke pulled away from him, just a bit, enough to beat him to the locker, but not enough that Naruto couldn't reach out, grab the back of his shirt, and drag him down.
They landed in a clumsy heap in front of the locker, limbs all tangled up, and twisted in strange ways that limbs are probably better off not twisting. They lay there, dazed for a moment or two, before Sasuke winced, and tried to extract himself from the mess. Naruto was a bit of a deadweight, and really didn't help the process much.

The blond finally came back to himself, and sat up, rolling off of Sasuke. The dark-haired boy sat up, able to breathe at last, without feeling as if there were a leaden weight trying to crush him. "Ugh, Naruto," he grumbled, "you are such a klutz."

He shot the blond a glare, who grinned back at him sheepishly. "Aha, sorry. Are you okay?"

Naruto crawled a bit closer to the other boy, putting a hand gently to one pale cheek. Sasuke jerked away from the touch and started to get up. "I am just fine," he growled, angrily. Naruto had done a fine job in pissing him off.

He didn't fail to notice that Sasuke was limping a bit, probably as a result from the incident in the pool two nights ago. The dark-haired boy growled and opened Naruto's locker, and started rooting through it. "What do you need out of here?" he asked, with a growl.

"Uh," Naruto replied.

"Binder?"

"No. . ."

"Coat?"

"No. . ."

And so, it went on, this book, that book, until Sasuke slammed the locker shut, screaming, "Do you need anything out of here!"

The blond thought for a moment, then shook his head, and grinned. "Nope."

Sasuke growled, and locked the locker, then walked away, toward the doors near the music room. Naruto stared after him, then started to run. "Hey, hey, Sasuke! Wait up!"

He caught Sasuke, because the older boy was still limping a bit. He smiled winningly. "I'm really sorry," he said. "Let me walk you home."

"I don't need your help, Uzumaki," he growled, making motions to walk around the blond and away. Naruto clamped his hands down on his shoulders and held him firmly in place.

"I've told you before, you don't have to be so cold. Now, just drop the bastard act, and let me walk with you."

Sasuke snorted, then looked away. "Fine," he sneered, relenting at last. "But you don't need to hold my hand or anything dumb like that."

"Why not?" Naruto asked, doing his best to look innocent. "I want to hold you hand." Sasuke glowered. "People will stare. They'll have questions."

"So?" Naruto retorted. "Let them stare!"

He waved his arms about wildly, and nearly hit Iruka in the face as the teacher walked out of the music room. "Naruto!" the brunet man barked, and the blond teen spun about to face him, apparently startled by the teacher's sudden appearance.

"Iruka!" he cried, blinking. "When did you get here?"

"Just in time for you to nearly hit me in the face," the teacher grumbled, giving the blond a dark, but humorous look.

The teacher was loaded down with books and binders, but he was managing. He had his car keys in his hand. He glanced back over his shoulder as he walked away. "Did you want a ride home?" he asked Naruto, smiling.

"I'd love that, Iruka!" the blond cheered, but glanced at Sasuke. "But I was going to walk Sasuke-teme here home first. He hurt his leg during the game."

Iruka's gaze shifted to Sasuke, and he gave him a sympathetic look. The other teen shot Naruto a sizzling glare. "Why did you lie?" his eyes hissed. Naruto laughed, a little nervously.

"Sasuke could come home with us, if he wants," Iruka told Naruto. "I was going to order out for dinner, if that's all right with you."

"Sure!" Naruto cried. "That sounds great! What do you say, Sasuke? Wanna come over for dinner?"

Sasuke debated the pros and cons of that, but realizing that he would probably just go home to a night of homework, his brother and Orochimaru, going home with Naruto sounded like a pleasant alternative. "Sure," he said, with a shrug, and a nonchalant look.

"Great!" Naruto exclaimed, grabbing Sasuke by the arm and dragging him outside, toward the car. "Last one to the car's a rotten egg!" he yelled, childishly, glancing back at Iruka as the door to the building fell closed.

The teacher shook his head in amusement. Naruto smiled broadly. The sun was shining brightly, and it looked like things were going his way again.
- - - - - - - - - - -

"Short Stuff's not home yet?"

Itachi grunted, something that was probably supposed to mean either yes or no, though one could rarely tell what he meant at all. "No, huhn? Well, I guess that means you and I are here alone."

Itachi still said nothing. Orochimaru turned away from the window, looking back at the teen on the bed. He was sorting through various offers of admission from various universities. He had two things going for him, really, to the universities. One, he had money, and two, he had excellent grades. Itachi rarely scored less than one hundred on anything he did. Orochimaru knew he wouldn't stand a chance against Itachi. He wasn't even going to try for university.

"So?" he asked the stoic boy, who didn't even dare look up from his papers. "What do you want for dinner?"

Itachi shrugged. "Not all that hungry," he replied, and went back to poring over the papers.

Orochimaru snorted. "Fine, be that way," he grumbled, and headed out of the room.

Itachi glanced up as the door shut, and then, he looked back at the blurry words on the page. He sighed heavily, then moved away from the mass of papers, sliding down, down, down, off the bed, onto the floor. He crossed his legs, and he sat there, hidden from view by the bed. He pushed his head back against the mattress, and closed his eyes.

He had been sure Orochimaru was going to catch on. He was glad he was somehow able to keep himself reigned in, under control. It would have been very messy if Orochimaru discovered his secrets. Everything would be messy if anybody found out his secrets. He felt a bit shaky now, and he wasn't sure if it was adrenaline, sprouted from fear, in his veins, or the drugs. He couldn't dare let this slip to anyone.

A few minutes later, the telephone was ringing, and Itachi just barely registered the noise in his head and made sense of it. Everything was foggy. Everything seemed to be ten times removed, and he was just sitting in a vast well of nothingness.

Orochimaru came thundering back up the stairs, his footsteps muffled by carpet, and he knocked on the door. Itachi didn't have to answer that knocking, because Orochimaru knew this was probably the one place he was always welcome. Well, almost always welcome, at the very least.

"Hey," the older teen said, almost snarling, crouching down beside him. The door was still open behind them, a gaping mouth, ready to devour them whole.

Itachi glanced at him, dully. He hoped he didn't look too far gone. "That was your aunt on the phone," he said, slowly, unsure of the younger boy's expression, "your great-grandmother just died."

"Oh," was all Itachi could seem to find to say. Orochimaru frowned, and studied the younger teen intensely.

"Are you feeling all right?" he asked finally, reaching out to put a hand to his forehead. Itachi jerked away instinctively.

"I'm fine," he growled, then closed his eyes. Orochimaru could leave any time now. Really. He could. Itachi would be perfectly happy if the other boy just went back downstairs.

"Are you sure you don't want dinner?"

He shook his head, and Orochimaru shrugged, then stood. "Well, whatever you say," he replied nonchalantly, and then, he left the room.

Once outside of the room, he frowned and shut the door, slowly. He looked at the floor, giving it a hard glare. He chewed his lip a bit. He knew Itachi was lying to him. The Uchiha heir wasn't feeling well. He had a feeling he knew why, and he was pretty sure this had to do with the little brown paper bag stashed away in the very top cupboard.

"Fuck," he muttered, and tossed a glare at the door, before he stormed downstairs.

He was going to strangle Kabuto when he saw him next. This really was the last thing he needed in his life. He wasn't going to watch Itachi throw everything he had away for some stupid drug addiction. He wasn't going to watch the damned substances destroy another person. He wasn't going to watch Itachi destroy himself. He was tired of being the spectator in this mob of a society that demanded the blood of others.

He swept into the kitchen, and he fished around in the cupboards until he came up with the little paper bag, and then, he threw it into the trash can, cursing it in his head, and hoping to incinerate it with his eyes. Gods, gods, gods, how could Itachi be so stupid? How could he be so blind? How could he be so incredibly willing to throw his entire life down the drain? He wanted to strangle the snotty Uchiha heir.

Huffing, he sat down at the table, and began drumming his fingers on the table. His appetite was doused now too, though by rage, and not anything else.

- - - - - - - -

Play practice was, once again, a nightmare. Tsunade wasn't sure how much longer she could put up with this sort of behaviour, and she most certainly wasn't sure she was going to make it through, at least, not with her sanity intact. She was already tugging at her hair, and the rehearsal had just commenced five minutes ago.
Hinata was late. If that wasn't something altogether unheard of, Tsunade didn't know what was. Hinata, through her upbringing and her own nature, was never, ever late. Tsunade knew the girl had been at school, at the very least, because she was in one of her literature classes during the afternoon. She would have thought the girl would have mentioned any appointments to her.

Ino and Sakura were pointedly not talking to each other, which was incredibly problematic, as Sakura was playing the Nurse, and Ino was playing Lady Capulet. Today was also the day that they would be practising the most humourous scene in the play, which, unfortunately, called for Ino and Sakura to converse.

A third problem was the obvious tension between Sasuke and Gaara. They were avoiding each other as if they suspected each had the plague, and poor Naruto was caught in the middle, trying to be the peacemaker. He was being skewered with glares from both sides. Tsunade, for once in her life, actually pitied the blond brat.

This was going to be a long, long hour and a half.

- - - - - -

Sasuke was, to say the very least, uncomfortable standing beside Gaara, even if Naruto was standing between them. He shifted from foot to foot, dissatisfied with the protection that was placed between himself and Gaara. He didn't think Naruto could stand up to the redhead.

He didn't like being this uncomfortable. He hated feeling insecure. But sure enough, there was the feeling, seizing all his limbs, and binding them together, so that he was just a big bundle of nerves and nervousness. Gaara had torn him apart so very easily. Gaara was something he had to be scared of, and he hated being scared of things. Why was he this pathetic?

He shifted again, and looked down at the ground, at the way his feet moved. Had he always been this pathetic? Yes, he probably had. He was nothing, scrounging in his brother's shadow, blinded by the years of darkness, and Gaara was a vampire, something horrific, something more powerful that swooped down from the rafters and tore at him. He couldn't see that sort of power, but he knew it was there.

Naruto was a flimsy wall of peace between them, trying so very hard to reconcile - though it was hardly reconciling as they had never been friends in the first place - them, and offering them terse smiles that begged them to get along. Really, they both knew Naruto wasn't a wall of peace, but really a wall to separate, to keep the other from getting into the other boy, the weaker boy, the one that wished he could stop his knees from knocking together, and wished that his eyesight wasn't so very gone.

Sasuke wanted to run away. He wanted to get out from underneath the shadows, but he had to cling to the wall, hug that wall so tightly that he was part of it, so that he could be safe, and even then, he was vulnerable. Gaara's cold gaze was on him, even when it wasn't, and he could feel the freeze burrowing into his marrow. He was so pathetic. He probably deserved this. The weak were afraid, and he deserved to be weak, to be afraid.

- - - - - - - - - -

Gaara wasn't exactly sure why he'd come back to society. Maybe it was because the sunny weather had gone away, and everything was grey. Everything was grey in the city, and maybe it was dreary, but at least it stayed the same. The changing seasons came and went, and left him cold. The wind was bitter and the rain was acid.

Whatever the reason, he had returned. He had gone back, turned away, and he had forgotten the rolling expanse of eternal nature into forever, and he went back to the city, where the skyscrapers rose, like perfect teeth, aligned in neat rows, to pierce that the sky. He went back to the city, the perfect example of man trying to destroy nature, to tame her, and to own her.

He had shown up in the dark of the night, and even in the shadows, Temari had recognized him. She had let him in, for some reason also unknown, and they had not spoken to each other. There were no words they needed to speak. Gaara had returned, and that was all. Their relationship had always been one constructed out of silence.

So, he bathed and ate, and he slept in that tiny, crowded apartment, and surprisingly, he didn't feel any claustrophobia. Perhaps the world had been a little too big for him, and he was happy to have it shrunken back down to this small, small place. It was easier to take in, and easier to manage. He had no control over the outside world. Here, he had all the control. Here was his domain.

Temari had put him back in school. She had always been an advocate of education, even if she herself lacked one. She was stuck in the bottom of the working world, and she knew exactly why. She had pushed Kankuro to return to school after he dropped out, but he would have none of it.

Gaara had no goals in life, unlike Kankuro, so he allowed his sister to try to sway him. He didn't care what she did. As long as she wasn't trying to kill him, she could do as she pleased. And that was how he ended up back in Konoha High, back there, with Naruto and Sasuke standing there.

He didn't regret anything he'd done, or anything he'd ever said. He didn't care that he was the reason that Uchiha Sasuke was being so fidgety, so utterly petrified of him and nervous, and concealing it very poorly. He just didn't care.

- - - - - - - -

Sakura and Ino hadn't said anything to each other in two whole days. It was a sad sort of fact that they hadn't spoken, because neither of them could seem to find the words to apologize. "I'm sorry" didn't seem, somehow, to suffice, and neither of them could think of anything more original. There was also the added factor that whoever apologized first would probably accept the blame for the entire mess. Neither one spoke, waiting for the other to spoke. These were the limitations of rivalry that they had come to accept.

The letter from Temari had been something that enlightened them, pissed them off thoroughly and made them want to cry, all at once. It was one of those silly things. It had said, "I broke you two up so I could make you realize just how important you are to each other. . .and so I could screw around with you too." Of course, the actual wording was a lot more flowery, but in the end, that was what the words boiled down to.

As it was now, Sakura was sitting there, thinking. She wanted to say something to Ino, but she knew the first thing she needed to say was, "I'm sorry." She wasn't going to apologize first though, because none of this was her fault. But she had recognized that they needed to get back at Temari, somehow, because it was her who had started this stupid war in the first place. She wanted to come up with some sort of ingenious plan, some sort of revenge tactic, but right now, all she could think of was, "that crazy bitch." It wasn't the most helpful thought in the world.

She glanced at Ino, who had her back turned to her. She was talking to Tsunade, and she was very pointedly ignoring her. Tsunade looked as if she was about to have several veins in her head burst, from pure frustration. Sakura winced, and looked away.

Slowly, very slowly, she came to the realization that the best revenge they had was acting as they were right then and there. They weren't getting back together, not like Temari had expressed a wish for them to do. They were pushing each other away and while it served Temari right for being a meddling psycho, it hurt more than Sakura would ever care to admit.

They were stuck. They could have revenge, and they could go on acting this way, and they could go on fighting and pushing each other away. They could go on pretending not to care at all. They could scream and yell and point at each other, and they could act as if they were enemies, and they could continue this way and have their revenge. Or, they could reconcile and apologize, and then, they wouldn't have their revenge. It was one or the other, and they couldn't have both.

Sighing, she stood up. There was a bit of activity going on. Tsunade must have called everyone to take their places. She didn't know. She was thinking too hard. She needed to be in the here and the now for what she was going to do next.

Ino was still standing with her back to her, where Tsunade had left her when she moved away to bark instructions to other people. She didn't notice the pink-haired teen approaching, and she only saw her at the very last second, from the corner of her eye. She turned about, and Sakura was standing right there, pinning her with a glare. "Ino," she said.

She was going to be the bigger person here. Ino glanced down. She knew the way they were acting was childish, and not at all a way to solve all the problems they had been handed. She knew the silent treatment wouldn't "teach Sakura a lesson", and she knew that not speaking to her was only prolonging the torture of them both.

"Sakura," she said.
They'd been thinking and thinking, and neither one had found any better solution than this. "I'm sorry," they blurted at the same time, and they glanced up from their feet.

They accepted the blame the other placed on them, and blame was nullified. They were forgiven. It didn't matter anymore. They had both hurt, and it was because they had both been blind. They had opened their eyes now, and Temari wasn't going to get them any longer. They weren't going to hurt any longer. They were going to let the other girl soothe away the abrasions they had suffered.

"Ice cream after this is over?" Ino asked, still ashamed and trying to keep her gaze level with Sakura's, without lifting her head. Lifting her head would mean she thought she was haughty, that she was better than Sakura.

The pink-haired girl nodded. "That would be wonderful," she said, a shy, half-smile plucking at her lips.

They might have hugged, and they might have even gone so far as to kiss, but this was not a private place, and those things were meant to be kept behind closed doors. They would have time for those things later.

- - - - - - - - -

Hinata wasn't at all sure she liked Kiba's house. His home was crowded, and dirty, and it gave away much more of an air that it was lived in, unlike her own house, but somehow, somewhere, there was a malice that it contained. The shadows seemed too deep, and every creaking floorboard would give away her presence. There was a monster, somewhere, waiting to swallow her up.

Akamaru was sweet. He was pure white, and he followed her, happily, nipping at her heels, then hopping away, and running ahead of her, then coming back, his pink little tongue lolling from his mouth. He wagged his tail furiously when she scratched behind his floppy ears. He was a sweet puppy.

Kiba had gone upstairs to get the little dog's leash. They were going to take him for a walk. Hinata knew she wasn't terribly instrumental in the parts of the play they were practising today, and she had left school with Kiba. She wanted to spend more time with him. She felt as if she had been lacking in her devotion to him over the past few months, and now, she owed it to him to be with him. He was a scared puppy, and she had to make him feel as if she wasn't going to kick him anymore than she already had. Her ignorance of him had been something she found unforgivable to herself. Wasn't she his girlfriend?

She wished he would come back now. She was beginning to get nervous, standing there in the foyer, and she was waiting for that monster to jump out and get her. Akamaru barked happily and ran after a ball she threw for him. He came trotting back with it, and the house was quiet. The puppy was happy with himself, and he looked smug. She smiled a little bit.

Kiba came clattering down the stairs, noisy as ever, with a red leash held in his hand. Akamaru dropped the ball, and looked at his master, spotting the leash almost instantly. He started to yip excitedly, and bounded over to Kiba.

He paused halfway there, and started to bark, heading back toward the door. Hinata glanced at the dog, then at Kiba, and she winced when she heard a car door slam shut. Kiba's face seemed to bleach, and he looked scared. She glanced back at the door.

The door swung open, and a young woman walked into the house. She looked a lot like Kiba, and she leant down the scratch at Akamaru's ears, even though her arms were full of bags. She glanced up a Kiba. Hinata glanced at him too. He looked relieved.

"It's just you," he muttered, sounding as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders, and he came the rest of the way down the stairs, to stand beside Hinata.

The woman made a face. "And it's just you," she returned, sardonically. "Honestly, what kind of greeting is that, Kiba?"

She brushed by them, giving Hinata a curt nod, but not speaking to her. She looked at Kiba, who shrugged and moved away. He caught Akamaru and put the leash on the puppy, who started barking again, and chasing his tail about in excited circles. He motioned to Hinata to follow, and they went out the door.

They walked part of the way down the street in silence, Akamaru barking at the cars that drove by, and Kiba yanking him back from the edge of the sidewalk. "Stupid mutt," he muttered, tightening his grip on the lead. "He likes to chase cars."

Hinata giggled a little bit, but returned to a more sombre state. They kept walking. It was a nice day, and she was glad she had decided to skip play practice. Sometimes, living in the real world was better than playing in a pretend one. "Kiba?" she asked at last, giving him a sidelong glance.

"Hm?" was his reply, as he tried to stop Akamaru from digging up somebody's flowers.

"Who was that woman?" she asked, trying her best not to sound anything but curious.

"Hm?" Kiba said, turning about to face her, letting Akamaru return to his frantic uprooting of the flora. "Her? She's my sister."

"Oh," she said, and nodded, before turning back.

Kiba yelled a bit at Akamaru and tugged the puppy away from the flowerbed. Akamaru acted as if nothing had happened and went on trotting down the street. She walked beside Kiba. "I didn't know you had a sister," she said.
"Ah, yeah," Kiba said, "she doesn't live at home. Well, didn't. She was living with her boyfriend, but they just broke up. So, she's moving back in."

"Oh, I see," Hinata said, letting her gaze drop to the ground. The sidewalk was disgusting, covered in all sorts of multicoloured spots. She didn't dare to think about what they might have been once upon a time.

"I thought it might have been my mom," the boy continued. They were walking along now, with hardly any interruption. Akamaru seemed to think behaving was a good thing to be doing now.

"Oh?" she said, glancing up again, and absently forcing her forefingers together in nervous habit. Kiba nodded, hearing the unasked question in her voice. "Yeah. Eh. . .my mom's not the most pleasant person right after work. I don't know as though she would have been. . .entirely pleased to meet you."

He was silent, and Hinata was left to speculate on the truth of his words. They might have been true, but they also might have been a bit of a cover. She could only think of one reason that Kiba's mother wouldn't be impressed to meet her, and that was because she was a Hyuuga.

She was well aware that Kiba didn't come from the richest of backgrounds, and that a lot of people who weren't in the best financial situations viewed the Hyuuga family with some contempt. People who were economically depressed often saw the Hyuugas as their oppressors, because they were rich.

Some people, even those who weren't poor, also disliked the Hyuugas because of their wealth and power. Some people resented them for both of these things, and others resented them simply for their wealth, or simply for their sway in all things political. Other people still thought they were snobs, just as all affluent types were stereotyped to be, and hated them for being haughty. Hinata didn't know, but she really didn't think she would cut it as a snob or a haughty heiress. She'd probably failed miserably, like she did at most other things.

Kiba shifted in the silence, and he could only guess that Hinata had caught on to the truth beneath his words. He liked Hinata, and she was a nice girl, but he knew his mother wouldn't be able to get past her stereotyping of people. His mother hated the Hyuugas, partially for having everything she wanted, and partially because she thought all of the Hyuugas were rich snobs. Maybe if it hadn't been painfully obvious what family Hinata belonged to, his mother might have been able to accept her as a person before she learned who she really was.

Hinata's eyes gave her away in an instant, and he knew his mother wouldn't be able to get past that. He knew she would get stuck at those eyes, at that surname and she would brand Hinata the haughty heiress, even when Hinata stumbled over her words, and was painfully shy. The woman wouldn't be able to move beyond her bigotry and meet the person Hinata really was.

He didn't want Hinata to meet his mother. He didn't want his mother to meet Hinata, because he was afraid that her steadfast opinions might drive the shy girl away. He didn't want that. He wanted to leave all of the preconceived notions that they might have about each other out of their relationship. He wanted them to be Hinata and Kiba to each other, and nothing more. He wanted them to be human beings, not separated by class, or by stereotypes. He wanted their relationship to be as pure as it could be, not marked by the notion that maybe, just maybe, he wanted to get in with her, just because she was rich.

He didn't want to mess this up.

- - - - - - - -

Neji was a bit apprehensive about walking into that room, even if he didn't show it. His face was, as always, a mask of nothing, a stoic, empty expression taking its coveted seat upon his features.

Beyond that door was something he wanted to see, and something he didn't want to see at the same time. Beyond that door was Tenten, and he wanted to see her, but he didn't want to see her either. Beyond that door was his child, a child that was his and he wanted to see it, but he didn't want to see it either.

But who was he to bow to indecisiveness? He forewent his emotions, pushed past them, just as he pushed past the physical barrier of the door, and walked into the room. It banged shut behind him, forcing him to stay, no matter how much he wanted to bolt. To bolt was to belay his pride.

Tenten was sitting up. Her hair was all across her face, and she looked tired. She looked as if she were in a bit of pain. Actually, she looked like she'd been through hell and back, and now, she was sitting there, in excruciating pain. She should have been lying down. She'd just been cut open, and sown back up again.

She gave him a weak smile, before she flopped back against the pillows and he gave her a strange, searching look. "How are you feeling?" he asked her, and he tried to make his voice less stiff, and less formal that it came out.

She closed her eyes and nodded a little bit. Her smile was trembling at the corners, threatening to fall at any given moment. "I'm all right," she replied, and her voice was very tired and very, very soft. She was subdued.

Something was wrong here, he realized, and he glanced about, searching desperately to place the feeling of misplacement in the room. What was wrong? There was something that definitely wasn't right here, but he couldn't find out what, so he moved closer to her.

He sat down on the very edge of the bed, but refrained from touching her, though he wanted to reach out and brush the hair out of her eyes. She didn't seem to have the strength to do it herself, and he didn't have the strength to be tender and gentle with her. He was silent, and she rested there for a moment or two.
"Is it a -" he started, but she cut him off, giving him a weak smile again.

"A boy," she said, her voice so soft, so subdued. "It was a boy."

He was wary of the way she phrased that. "And?" he asked, glancing about the room, and noting the lack of the child.

She shook her head, and looked down. Her lips were pursed tightly together, and she was looking down. Her eyes were closed. "Intensive care," she murmured softly, very subdued. "He nearly strangled. They don't think he'll live."

He didn't know what to say to that. He had never been a tender person, and now, when he wanted to be supportive most, he was lost on how to do so. So, he sat there, and he folded his hands in his lap. He looked down, at the floor, and he didn't know what to say. He didn't know how to comfort, and he let the tears dribble down her face when he should have wiped them away.

- - - - - - -

There was a car in the driveway when Iruka came home. It looked like a fairly new car, and Iruka was wary of it. He didn't know anybody who drove a car like that, a sports car, decked out in red. He frowned.

He unlocked the door, and he went inside. There had been nothing turned on, and all the lights were off. He wondered why the car was in the driveway. He frowned some more and set down his marking on the table, along with his keys.

He walked to the dining room, around the grand piano, and to the sliding door. The gate to the fence was unlocked, and he made a face. The driver of that car was probably in his backyard and he wanted to know why.

He opened up the slider and walked outside. He had no shoes on, and the grass tickled the bottoms of his feet, sharply. It was almost like stabbing. He ignored it, and he marched outside, toward the pond.

There was a young woman sitting there, looking at the fish in the pond. She had her back turned to him, and he couldn't see her face. Her hair was pulled up in a sort of knot on her head, and she was wearing some pretty strange clothing. He wondered who she was.

"Hello?" he called to her at last, stopping a few feet away from her. He didn't want to get too close to her, just in case she was dangerous.

She turned about at the sound of his voice, and he swore his heart must have stopped when he saw her face. It wasn't a face he had expected to come creeping about this place in a long, long time.

- - - - - -