(Author's Note: New chapter! Chapter 42 should be coming in about two weeks. If you read, please remember to review! Warnings and disclaimers apply to all chapters.
Special thanks to Ruby Love for beta'ing.
Thanks to the people who reviewed Chapter 40 the first time around: Yit-ha, Melrose Stormhaven, Maskoftime, Crimson Anjel, The Spore Whore, Kasumi, cabbagehobbit, and Yami no Tenshi.
And now, on with the fic!)
And the Beat Goes On
Chapter 41: Guilt-Trip
Iruka had definitely never expected his step-sister to actually know where he lived. But, nevertheless, there she was, standing in his garden. He shifted nervously. "Anko?" he asked, a little apprehensive of her presence there. "What are you doing here?"
He tried to laugh, but it was a choked little sound, and he hated how it sounded. It let her know he was nervous. She shrugged a bit, and he noted now that she seemed to be a little more subdued, though her clothes were still just as horrific as ever.
He wanted nothing more in that moment than for her to go away. She and he had never seen eye to eye, and he was wary of her. She seemed to be far too relaxed, far too uncaring. He was the nervous fish, tiptoeing around this waiting shark. She was watching him, waiting for him to fumble again.
Was she here about Konohamaru? He hoped not. The boy was three months dead. She had to have known about the little boy's death before now. Other family members would have told her, wouldn't they? Unless, of course, she hadn't been in contact with anyone until now. He hoped she wasn't here about Konohamaru. He didn't want to speak of that. . .
But why else would she suddenly appear in his backyard? Why else, why else indeed. She had no motives to come and see him. His heart sunk in his chest. He didn't want to speak about Konohamaru, not even now. He'd tried so very hard to remove himself from the event, to put himself back in the reality he existed in, and tried to smile and tried to forget. He tried so very hard to be like his Naruto. Naruto had been upset, he knew. Naruto had been upset by a lot of things in his life, and somehow, Iruka rarely, if ever, saw the tears. Naruto seemed overt in his emotions, but he kept all his pain somewhere in the shadows of the night. He kept his pain in his memories, no doubt, and when he locked those away and focussed on the here and the now, he could wear a smile.
He wondered if that was what Anko did. Her personality was a mask, a raucous cry for attention, and somehow, now that he understood Naruto, it seemed to fit his stepsister in a way that he had never noticed before. Perhaps he shouldn't view her with such distaste.
Brown eyes met brown eyes. Anko's eyes looked so dull and dead. He wondered at that, and somehow, it made him want to wince. She looked away suddenly, violently, as if she couldn't hold his gaze. It was strange. She had always been the more domineering of them.
Her eyes were moving now, scanning the garden, faster and faster. She knew he was watching her, and she didn't dare glance back at him. Her arms were folded across her chest, and her entire posture suggested she felt endangered. "Konohamaru's not here?" she said finally, and her voice was very loud, as if she were trying to mask something.
He gave her a blank look when she glanced back at him, waiting for his response, and then, he shook his head. Very slowly, he shook his head, left, and then right, and he let his gaze fall toward the ground. He didn't dare look up at her.
"It's true then," she said, and then, there was a thick, awkward silence that fell across them, like a heavy curtain falling between them. All the sound was suddenly and unforgivingly blocked out.
Somewhere, possibly in the ancient oak tree, a bird was calling. The pond's pump was filtering water, and the sound of running water was ever present. It all seemed to be distorted in Iruka's ears, muffled and far away. He was removed from the entire situation, and he wished he could hear the calming sounds more clearly than he could hear that high-pitched screaming and the buckling and breaking of metal. He wished he had been knocked unconscious when they first started rolling. He wished he'd woke up with all of his memories burned, and destroyed by the fire that had consumed the vehicle. He wished he didn't remember anything of this place, of that accident.
He glanced up at her, and realized that he'd bit his lip. Then, without really giving himself time to take in her expression, he looked back at the ground, at the emotionless stones in his patio. How did they manage to stay so stoic? "Yeah," he said, slowly, trying very hard to make the words stay tucked away inside him, but also recognizing them that they needed to come out, "it's true."
The heavy curtain continued to be there between them. Even if she couldn't quite make out the words because of the barrier, she would still understand. She would still understand. She wasn't a monster. She had some sort of human intuition. She would understand what he meant, even without the words. After all, words were merely symbols for concepts. He would never have to repeat what he said.
She was sober for once. It was strange to see her completely and utterly subdued like she was, after all the times he'd seen her so drunken, so high, and so rowdy by nature. Now, she was standing there, with her face pulled down by the weight of gravity, by the weight of the years that proved she was no longer a teenager. She must have been getting close to thirty, he realized, and he felt a faint bit of shock when he found he could make out the lines in her face, despite all the make-up she had applied, desperately trying to hide them. It was strange. He had resigned himself to the fact that he would get older, and eventually, die, but he had never thought about her aging. It was as if he had thought she would remain as she was forever, always seventeen, always Anko.
Poor Anko, he thought, poor Anko. She had always tried so very hard to be grown up, or at least, her version of grown up. She had worn more make-up in high school than most movie stars, and she had dressed in a scandalous fashion, somehow convinced that having sex appeal, and having sex, somehow made you an adult.
And now, here she was, all grown up and trying desperately to hide it. She didn't want the world to know that she wasn't seventeen anymore. She had always partied hard, and drank and smoked, and now, the wear and the tear showed on her. She wanted that lifestyle for herself, and she kept it, but it was slowly pulling her apart at the seams, slowly making her older than anyone else she probably knew. She wore make-up, she dressed strange, and she still partied as if she was seventeen, as if to hold on to her youth, but she was so old because of it. Poor Anko. He could only imagine her when she was fifty, still clawing desperately at the days of her youth, and she would not go peacefully into old age. All he could think was that she had resigned herself to a fate of plastic surgery and younger men. She would always try to fool them into thinking that she was younger than she really was.
"Thank you," she said presently, and her tone was clipped, curt, and somewhere deep down, hurt. "I'll be going now."
She had nothing more to say to him, and on some level, that hurt a bit. They were supposedly family, weren't they? And on some level, he didn't care because that was Anko, and this kind of thing was all he could expect from her.
And somehow, he got the feeling she blamed him. Perhaps it was the fact that he had been in charge of Konohamaru when the accident happened. Perhaps she felt that he should have somehow prevented it, somehow miraculously saved Konohamaru. Perhaps she thought he should have never let the little boy get in that car. But whatever she thought, she hadn't been there, and he doubted that she would have done any of those things she expected him to do to save the little boy. And yet, she blamed him.
Perhaps he deserved it. Perhaps he should have tried a little harder to keep Konohamaru safe, but one simply couldn't live one's life in perpetual paranoia that oneself, or others around oneself were going to die. How was he to know that letting Konohamaru get in the car that day would prove fatal? How was that death his fault? How was the car accident his fault? But he felt it was.
He stood there in the garden, thinking, and there was a few moments between the initial slam of the back door, and the roar of an engine. He could only presume that was Anko's car that had been sitting in the driveway, and that Anko was now in said car, driving away. He didn't budge.
He stood there, and he thought. He thought about himself, and he thought about her, and he thought about Konohamaru and Kakashi. He thought, and he thought for quite a while, and he tried to get to the root of why he felt so goddamned guilty when he knew it couldn't have been helped. He wondered if he would have felt guilty today if Anko hadn't blamed him. He wondered if he would have felt guilty for all the tomorrows that existed in his future. He was no saviour. He couldn't see the future and there was no way he could have prevented what had happened. There was no use in feeling guilty for it, but he blamed himself, even if Anko didn't. He blamed himself for letting them die.
He tended to blame himself for things that he had no control over. He blamed himself when his parents had split up. It had been his fault. It hadn't really been his fault, but at the time, he'd truly believed it was his fault. It was his fault every time his father hit his mother, and it was his fault that they divorced.
It had also been his fault that his mother remarried. It was his fault, and he deserved a stepsister such as Anko. It was his fault when she got teased, and it was his fault when the other kids came down on her, because, somehow, he couldn't protect her. She didn't want to be protected, though.
He blamed himself all the time for students who failed his course. It didn't matter if they cut classes all the time, or if they simply didn't apply themselves. It was still his fault, and in the end, somehow, he was at fault. He was the teacher after all, and if a student flunked, it was just further proof of his own incompetence.
The sound of the car engine died away and he stood there, feeling empty and forsaken. The bird in the tree had flown away now. The water was still running, though. He happened to glance down at the pond, and there was a flash of something metallic as the sun hit the water's surface. He winced, and looked away. "What the. . ."
He crouched down near the edge of the pond, and looked down into the depths. There, lying on the bottom of the liner, and starting to be drowned in algae, was a circular gold band. It was a ring. He frowned. How the hell had a ring managed to get into his pond?
Nevertheless, he reached in, and he fished it out, plucking it from the depths of the increasingly murky water. Some of the braver fish swam up to his hand curiously, then darted away. He pulled his hand out of the water and opened his palm. He stared at the ring, and raised an eyebrow.
There was a clatter of feet in the house, and the clamour of Naruto's voice, then the squealing of the hinges opening. The door creaked, and smashed against the doorframe. Iruka winced. Naruto was so rough on things. "Oy!" the blond called to him, his feet pattering over the patio stones. "What've you got there, Iruka?"
Sasuke was right behind the blond, his feet slapping the stones as well. He stopped just slightly behind Naruto, his face set in a frown, and he held his arm against his face, trying to block the sunlight from his eyes.
Iruka offered the ring in Naruto's direction. "I found this in the pond," he said, and watched as the blond froze, and all the colour drained out of his face. He looked utterly horrified.
'Ah-ha,' Iruka thought, trying his very best to fight the triumphant smirk spreading across his face. 'Here's the culprit.'
"Do you know where this came from?" he asked, trying very valiantly to sound unsuspecting, but Naruto's face was a dead giveaway. Of course the blond knew where the ring had come from. He'd probably thrown it in the pond himself.
"N-no," Naruto spluttered, "I've never seen it before in my life."
He was lying, and it was painfully obvious. He looked like a trapped rabbit, who had run out of places to run. Sasuke was still standing right behind him, and he looked like the fox who had just caught the rabbit.
The brunet teen had been eyeing the ring up until this point, though he hadn't said anything. Now, he looked at it, and pointed. He said, in a low, calm tone, "Isn't that the ring you gave me, Naruto?"
The blond had run right into the fox and really was now stuck between the hunter and that other damned predator. He hissed a warning and smacked Sasuke, who turned his attention away from the ring to glare at him. "Why the hell did you throw it in the pond?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
"You're the one who gave it back to me!" Naruto yelled, his face turning red, with embarrassment and anger. He was frustrated now. The entire situation was too much for him to handle. He could only handle one predator at a time.
"You didn't have to throw it in the pond," Sasuke hissed, seemingly upset by Naruto's course of action. It didn't really make sense, considering he'd given it back to Naruto, but then again, Sasuke rarely made much sense.
"I was mad at you!"
"You could have returned it and got a refund," Sasuke retorted, looking decidedly cynical.
Naruto stuck his tongue out, unable to refute that logic. Sasuke smirked, and added a dig, saying, "Weren't you worried that Iruka would find out how you got the money to pay for that?"
The blond paled at least ten shades, until he was whiter than the sheets on Iruka's bed. The brunet man's eye twitched. He'd wondered why there was money missing, and now, he had solid evidence against the teenage boy.
"What are you talking about?" Naruto squeaked, trying to laugh and sounding terribly nervous and pitchy.
Sasuke seemed to realize then that Iruka was standing right there in front of them, holding the ring. He glanced at the teacher, and realized that he'd probably just cost Naruto his life. Iruka looked horrifically angry right then and there.
"Naruto," the brunet teacher said, his left eye twitching uncontrollably, "do tell me how you got the money to pay for this."
"Uh," Naruto said, tugging at the collar of his shirt. "Well, you see. . ."
"Would this have anything to do with my credit card and my missing money?" Iruka asked, his voice bordering on furious, but somehow not angry.
Naruto made a small noise of fear, then ducked behind Sasuke, and bolted into the house. The door slammed shut behind him with such force that it bounced open a couple times more, before finally staying shut.
Sasuke sighed, then turned to Iruka. "I'll pay you back, Iruka-sensei," he said, sounding exasperated.
Iruka shook his head. "Thank you for the offer, Sasuke, but Naruto needs to learn his lesson out of this."
He walked by the teenager, and was about to open the door when Sasuke said, sounding somewhat less cold than he normally did, "He did it because he felt bad about not being able to get me anything he thought was worthwhile."
Iruka paused, and glanced back over his shoulder. He had known perfectly well that was why Naruto did it; the blond had mentioned wanting to buy Sasuke the ring before he'd done it. Still, he tried to sound as if he hadn't known. "Oh?"
Sasuke had his back to him, so he couldn't see his expression. There was somehow a note of guilt in Sasuke's voice, something that was regretful. Iruka wondered why Sasuke, of all people, felt guilty.
"Just. . .let it go, Iruka-sensei," Sasuke said, and he sounded almost as if he were making a plea, "I'll pay for it. It's my fault anyway."
Iruka raised an eyebrow at that. To date, he hadn't thought that Sasuke was the type of person to accept blame for things that he knew were beyond his control. From hearing Naruto's rants about Sasuke, he had always assumed that Sasuke was someone who laid the blame on other people, even when it was his own fault.
"Please," Sasuke whispered, and Iruka had to strain to hear the breathless admission. Uchiha Sasuke never said please.
Slightly shocked, all the brunet teacher could say was, "All right."
"Don't tell Naruto," Sasuke said, and his voice was shaking somewhat. It unnerved the teacher.
"All right then," he replied slowly.
Sasuke held out his hand, expectantly. Iruka's face must have been a mask of confusion, and then, he understood that Sasuke wanted the ring. He let the door fall shut and went to deposit the little golden band in Sasuke's hand.
"Thank you," the teenager said softly, and Iruka wasn't quite sure just what to say.
- - - - - - - - -
The air in the gymnasium was heavy and humid. It settled on Naruto's shoulders, and weighed down. It was thick, and he almost couldn't filter it through his airways. His lungs felt as if they were on fire, and he wondered if this was what it felt like to be choked. His head was throbbing now, from the dizzying heat, and from the lack of heat in combination. He wanted to sit down and rest for a long, long time.
Sweat dripped down onto his nose, and he wrinkled his nose in distaste at the slimy feeling. His hair was starting to droop down into his eyes, and he kept trying to blow it out of his face, so that he could see across the court. He didn't want to get smashed in the face with the birdie.
He glanced over at Sasuke. The older boy was just as overheated as he was, obviously, but he didn't seem to mind the fact that his hair was sticking to the back of his neck. He was completely focussed on the other side of the net, locked in a glaring war with his brother. Naruto sighed, and shook his head.
This was most definitely the stupidest match that had ever been played in the history of history. Not only were the players from the same school, Naruto and Sasuke were in a separate division from Itachi and Orochimaru. Or were supposed to be, at least. Somehow, through some dumb stroke of bad luck, they'd ended up playing each other in the final match. Naruto knew now that they were going to be handed a very painful defeat.
Sasuke had been very pleased with Naruto's newfound ability throughout the matches they'd played so far. Of course, he hadn't come out and said anything, but if those sly glances and the occasional brush of his arm against the blond's when he'd played a particularly good set meant anything, than Sasuke was a very happy boy, and there would be lots of congratulatory sex later. Unless, of course, they lost this match.
This was the penultimate match, Sasuke's dream match. He was ready to show Itachi just what he was worth, and he was going to smash the birdie into Orochimaru's face if he could manage. Of course, if they lost, it would be blamed on Naruto, and not Sasuke. Naruto wondered how Sasuke was never at fault for anything. It annoyed him to no end.
The match started. Naruto could barely keep up with the level the other side was playing on. Orochimaru, that damned snake in the grass, obviously had left out a few key techniques when he'd helped Naruto bring up his game. The blond grit his teeth.
Itachi played with such ease it scared him just a bit. The elder Uchiha brother had a blank look on his face for the entirety of the match, and every one of his swings were precisely calculated before the birdie was even back on his side of the net. It seemed almost like Orochimaru was getting a free ride, until he got hold of the birdie and smashed it back across the net with stunning force.
Sasuke was trying desperately to keep up, but even he couldn't match the other side. He kept glaring at Naruto, trying to blame the blond for all his fumbles and all his clumsiness, and he wondered how he let Sasuke away with his selfish desire never to be wrong.
While he was thinking, Naruto managed to trip over an untied shoelace and did a very graceful face plant into the floor. The match was stopped, if only for a moment, and when Naruto glanced up from the floor, he knew that the game was over. If it hadn't been over before, it most definitely was now. There was no hope of congratulatory sex.
The match finished, and, almost needless to say, Orochimaru and Itachi walked away with the title. Sasuke looked mad enough to snap his racquet over his knee, but somehow managed to restrain himself. He stormed off the court, possibly to save face, but left Naruto in the dust.
"Told ya he was hard to please," Orochimaru said, somehow having appeared behind Naruto.
The blond jumped, then turned around, jabbing a finger in the elder teen's direction. "You!" he growled.
Orochimaru gave him a look that told him he was curious. "Me?" he asked, pointing to himself, and managing to look somehow smug, underneath the curiosity.
Naruto snarled. "Yes, you, you jerk. You didn't teach me half of what you know!"
Orochimaru wriggled his eyebrows. "I didn't teach you even one millionth of what I know, Naruto."
The blond's eye twitched. "Stop with the innuendo, you freakin' perv!"
Orochimaru gave him a wide grin. "Why should I? It's so much fun."
Naruto clenched his fists and ground his teeth some more. Then, he turned to stalk off the court. There was no use in trying to talk to Orochimaru. He was a pervert, and nothing but. Orochimaru followed him, though, persistent in talking.
"You know, Sasuke would be a very happy boy if you knew even ten things that I know."
Naruto glanced sideways at him, doing his very best not to look too curious. "Yeah? And what the hell would you teach me?"
"Lots of things," Orochimaru said, with a smirk. He didn't dare look at the blond. His tone was teasing.
Naruto hissed and made his strides longer, walking faster, and farther away from Orochimaru. "I don't have time for this," he growled.
Orochimaru kept pace beside him. He didn't say anything more, though. Once inside the change room, the blond spotted Sasuke, and scurried away from the older teen, to try and schmooze his way back into the Uchiha's good books.
They were just on their way out, with Sasuke storming ahead of him, when Orochimaru caught Naruto by the shoulder. The blond spun around and looked at him, clearly, confused. Orochimaru smiled, and pressed something into the blond's hand, then turned away. Naruto stared after him in confusion, then closed his fist tighter, and heard paper crinkle.
He grit his teeth, then turned about again and stalked out of the room, intent on catching up to Sasuke. He jammed his hands into his pockets angrily, along with the piece of paper. He knew what was on it, without even looking at it. He'd throw it out after play rehearsal.
Back in the locker room, Orochimaru just snickered to himself. Itachi gave him a funny look, but he just shook his head and made him shrug it off.
- - - - - - - -
Hinata was distracted. That much, anybody could see. The girl was naturally cursed to stutter, but she was strange today, as if she were walking about in a sort of daze. Her stuttering was increased tenfold, but only because she kept missing her lines. When she snapped out of her daze, momentarily, to realize that she had missed her line, she would blush, apologize, and stutter out the line, so shakily that Tsunade was worried. The performance night was looming in the not too distant future.
Hinata was deeply worried about her future with Kiba. He had seemed so afraid yesterday, when his sister had come to the door. He had looked as if he was going to die on the spot, and she wondered now, why that was. He didn't want her to meet his mother. Surely, she was going to have to meet his mother eventually, wasn't she?
He had said that his mother wasn't a pleasant person. She wondered what he had meant by that. Did he have something against his mother? Was there something she had done to him that he loathed her for? She couldn't help but wonder. She wanted to know the answers, but she knew better than to prod, especially with someone as explosive as Kiba. It would end with her in tears and him in a foul mood.
She wondered if his mother just wouldn't accept her, for some reason. She knew that lots of people disliked the Hyuugas for their position in the social system. Lots of people hated "old money", or money in general, when they themselves toiled in the dirt of the slimy underbelly of the city. She wondered if Kiba's mother was one of those people.
He certainly didn't live in a pleasant part of town, she knew. He lived in a townhouse, one of the old ones nearer to the downtown core. It hadn't been maintained very well, and even from the outside, looked as though it were falling to pieces. The entire neighbourhood looked as though it was crumbling, falling apart. There was graffiti on the old brick walls, and broken bottles, and other such things all about.
Some of the people, she had noticed, tried to make an effort. There were some nice gardens around, and some of the people tried to scrub the graffiti off the side of the walls, and tried to sweep the glass out of the street. But most of them just didn't care enough. The lawn in front of Kiba's house was choked with weeds, and the flowerbeds near the door had lain dormant for years.
The inside of the house hadn't been much better. It was crowded, and it smelled thickly of smoke, and dogs, and it was musty. It was dark, and almost dank, and an old air conditioner rattled away in the window. She didn't doubt that the upstairs would be boiling. The wallpaper in the kitchen had looked battered, and the floor she'd been standing on had been scratched and worn.
That wasn't to say that Kiba was a bad person. It wasn't to say that any of the Inuzukas were bad people, or that they didn't work for what they had. It just looked as if they didn't have much to show for what they worked for. She supposed it was better than nothing, but it was nothing compared to the Hyuuga manor. She wondered if that was why Kiba was so avidly against her meeting his mother. Was it the gap between their financial situations?
She was sure now that she genuinely cared about him. She hadn't been so sure before that she wasn't just substituting him for Naruto, or trying to use him to get to the blond. She hadn't been sure of her motives at the time. She had thought, for a while, that maybe she'd just been too stunned that he actually wanted her to refuse. Even if that had been the case in the beginning, she knew it wasn't the case now. She liked Kiba.
Still, she couldn't wonder at his reluctance to allow her into his life. Wasn't that what they were trying to do? Weren't they trying to share themselves with each other? She had never really understood relationships. The Hyuuga were not a very close-knit family. She was distant from her younger sister, and it wasn't just because of the age gap between them. It was the way they'd been raised.
Now, she wanted to know what a relationship really was supposed to be. Her parents were so stiff and formal toward each other. It was as if they were complete strangers, who merely shared house and home. She wondered if they'd ever been in love. She wondered more if they'd ever been in love with each other.
Kiba seemed to be a warm and open person, at first, but then again, even the most open of books contains secrets within its text. She would have to decipher him, she would have to read his words deeper, and look for his hidden meaning there. Eventually, when she pieced together enough to handle him gently, he would tell her the secrets. He would tell her the real reason he didn't want her to meet his mother. She just had to have faith that he would tell her, and the patience to wait for him to do so. It did no good to pry.
"Hinata!" Tsunade barked, and she jumped to life, startled, her eyes flying wide open.
"Y-yes, Tsunade-sensei?" she stuttered, trying hard to act as if she'd been paying attention, doing her very best not to stutter, even though that often made it worse.
The blonde woman frowned and tapped her foot against the polished floor of the stage. The sound echoed. She was mad. "You missed another line," she snarled.
Hinata bowed her head. "S-sorry, Tsunade-sensei," she whispered, and looked down at her script, her hands trembling. The words bolded in pink hi-lighter wobbled.
Tsunade turned around, her shoes clicking irately. "Take it from the top!" she barked.
- - - - - - - - -
Naruto glanced away from Hinata, turning his attention back to fiddling with the pins in the hem of Sasuke's dress. The dark-haired boy was having some issues breathing, but the only thing really wrong with his costume was the fact that it was too long. He'd been tripping all over it in the previous scene.
"Hinata sure is acting weird today," he commented around the pins in his mouth.
Sasuke made a funny noise, that probably meant he agreed. Naruto couldn't really tell. Sasuke was probably just overreacting again. He could be such a drama queen sometimes. He was complaining that Tsunade had laced the corset too tight. Naruto couldn't see the problem: the garment had achieved the effect they wanted, and also forced Sasuke's voice up a notch or two, because he couldn't breathe properly. Then again, Naruto had never worn a corset in his life. He was quite proud of that fact.
"Going to faint?" he asked dryly, looking up at Sasuke with a cheeky grin.
Sasuke stopped huffing momentarily to glare at him, and tried to kick him in the face. The blond jerked back, forgetting that he was holding two handfuls of Sasuke's hemline in his hands. He nearly pulled Sasuke down. That earned him another glare. Sasuke was now officially pissed at him. He had been before as well, about the badminton match, but now he was extra pissed off. That meant that Naruto had absolutely no chance of getting anything out of him tonight.
Sasuke moved his hand and the light caught something, making in flash, and Naruto was temporarily blinded. Then, he grabbed Sasuke's hand and glared at it. Then, he glared up at Sasuke. "I thought you were going to return it," he hissed, "and get a refund."
Sasuke looked startled for a moment or two, and then, a pinkish tinge crept into his cheeks. "Well, erm. . .It's none of your business." And he pulled his hand out of Naruto's grip viciously.
The blond wasn't sure whether to smile and be smug, or to be angry with Sasuke. After all, Iruka had grounded him for buying the ring and taking the money without permission. But why had Sasuke been allowed to keep the ring? Iruka hadn't mentioned anything about being paid back, so he'd assumed that the teacher was going to return the item. Obviously, that was not the case. "It is so my business," he grumbled, frowning.
Sasuke was back to panting now. Apparently, arguing just took too much breath. Naruto glowered at him for a moment or two, before deciding that with all said and done, he was glad that Sasuke was wearing the ring at least. It didn't make him as elated as he'd thought he'd be, however. Maybe it was because the damned ring had now caused him a huge headache.
Sasuke made a noise, and he glanced to his right, and saw Gaara standing there, eyeing them. It was unnerving, because Naruto had no idea how long the red-head had been watching them. He smiled anyway. It was better to be nice to Gaara than to piss him off and suffer the consequences. Sasuke shuffled a bit closer to him, his leg pressing into Naruto's knee, as if he was searching for security. The blond felt the smile he'd plastered on his lips become a little more genuine.
Gaara turned away, and said nothing. He looked at the stage, and noticed that the scene that was being rehearsed had nearly wrapped up. "We're on next," he said bluntly, and indicated to his fellow actors.
Naruto rose to his feet and turned to follow him. The actors currently on stage were just moving off and now, it really was their turn to rehearse in front of the director. Naruto felt a little bit nervous.
Sasuke stumbled into him, swearing, and still huffing, pulling the skirt of the dress up off the floor so he didn't trip on it any more. "Need a hand?" Naruto asked, almost snidely, earning another glare from Sasuke.
Nevertheless, he felt Sasuke fumble for his hand, and he let the dark-haired teen catch it and smiled lightly when he felt him latch on. Sasuke tried so hard to be independent, but he could be so clingy at times, it was cute.
It was then that he made up his mind what to do about the piece of paper that was hidden in his pocket, burning into his memory. He knew exactly what he wanted to do. He wanted to make sure Sasuke was happy.
- - - - - - - -
TenTen had spent all day in the hospital bed, lying there, watching the routine coming and going of nurses. She had yet to see a doctor, but she supposed that meant she was really all right. She supposed that meant that there wasn't any bad news yet.
The nurses all asked her the same silly questions, and they all seemed quite the same. She didn't wonder if they weren't all clones of the same person, and their hair had simply been dyed - a brunette, a blonde, a red-head, a woman with jet black hair.
Maybe it was the painkillers. One, two, three times, maybe four, they changed the drip, and she watched it with dull eyes, as one empty packet went away, and another one was speared onto the hook. She watched, bored, as the liquid started to seep down the IV tube that crept down into her arm. Then, she would slip into a dreamless sleep, and she wondered when the world had become quite so dark.
It was okay, they told her, to have the painkillers in her blood. They told her it was all right, because she wasn't going to be breastfeeding, and they left the threat of the baby's death in the air. They did not speak of it. They didn't even mention the baby. It was okay, because even if the baby lived, she wouldn't be breastfeeding. She wondered how they knew that. She really wondered how they could make her decisions for her.
The day passed, and now, the afternoon light filtered into the room, dull and humid, like the day outside had probably been. She was itchy and she was hot, but she didn't dare move, in case the screaming pain burned up her middle again. She went back to sleep. The afternoon sunlight continued to filter in, sticky, dull and dying.
It was cooler when she woke, though she knew it was just as humid as before. There was the still the buzz of the ancient fan, one that had been on all afternoon, but she had failed to notice it then. Now, she was really awake. Now, she was no longer caught between consciousness and the world of dreams. Now, it was night outside, and she was an owl, truly awake.
Neji wasn't there. He had been there in her dream, moving, wavering, like some sort of mirage in the late afternoon heat, just before sundown. Maybe he had been there, and she'd thought she'd dreamed it. Maybe he hadn't been there at all. Maybe she really had dreamed it.
Presently, there was the click of shoes on the tiled floor, and she could almost feel, could almost reach out and touch the hurry that drove those flurried footsteps. They hurried right on by, and faded into the night. She felt silly. She had been waiting for those footsteps to hurry to her and bring bad news.
She lay there, wide awake now, and feeling a slow stinging starting in the middle of her again, and slowly, starting to spread outward as all of their painkillers came undone, and evaporated from her blood, leaving her hurt again. She lay there, and she waited for the nurses to come back and change her drip again. She lay there and she waited for Neji to come back, bringing with him comfort and security. She lay there and she waited for someone to come and tell her something, anything.
And presently, someone did come, with slow, unhurried footsteps. The footsteps were heavy, like a man's, and she wondered if this was a doctor coming to see her now. The footsteps were sombre and slow, like a funeral march, and dread twisted inside her stomach. Pain reared up again, and its heat drove the painkillers a little further away, evaporated them a little faster.
There was a doctor, with his slow, slow footsteps, and right behind him, there was a nurse, with quick light footsteps, and she seemed like she was tailgating him, and she was peering over his shoulder, as if she were trying to check to see if it was okay to pass him.
Then, they were standing there, right beside her, and the nurse was holding something that was all wrapped up in blue blankets, wriggling and squirming. She didn't even want to think about it. The nurse smiled at her and she leaned down and passed the blanketed mass to her, and she tried to sit up, only to realize that she couldn't.
And then, everything was real. There was her child, in her arms, screaming and kicking at her and utterly alive. She didn't think she'd ever been more enthralled, more amazed at anything in her life.
- - - - - -
Sakura and Ino walked home from rehearsal, silent, but not angry, for once in what seemed like forever. They were going to drop by the ice cream parlour again, and pester Shikamaru. That was one of Ino's favourite pastimes, and she hadn't done it in weeks. Shikamaru had thought she'd given up.
Somehow, someway, life seemed to be back to normal, back in order. Ino had given up all her normal activities, all her normal day-to-day habits in favour of an obsession, and now, she realized that this wasn't healthy at all. She had dropped all normalcy in her life. She had become strange.
Now, everything was back in order, in the usual disarray. She and Sakura were friends again, and they were going to bother Shikamaru. It was Sakura's turn to buy the ice cream. Ino had treated last time.
The day had been bright, hot and humid, almost scorching, and now, the sun was ducking behind clouds that looked as if they might decide to rain at any given moment. Maybe there would be a thunderstorm. It wasn't that strange of a thing in Konoha on a summer's afternoon. More often than not, there would been a downpour in the evening, after the heat of the day passed, and the sun went down.
The bell dinged as they walked inside the parlour, and Shikamaru sighed when he saw them. He rolled his eyes and muttered something under his breath that could have been, "Troublesome."
Choji was there, sitting at one of the tables, the one closest to the counter, and he had a half-finished sundae sitting on the counter. He'd been talking to Shikamaru before they'd walked in, and now, he gave them a bit of a wave. Shikamaru just leaned on the counter and sighed again.
Ino gave Choji a nod. She wasn't all that fond of the boy. She wasn't exactly sure how Shikamaru could stand to be friends with him, sometimes. All he ever seemed to think about was food. She had asked Shikamaru about it once, and he had shrugged, mentioning something about it being terribly tedious to explain just why Choji was a good friend. She had persisted, however, and Shikamaru had eventually said, though she was pretty sure he was joking, "He's easy to please. You give him some chips, and all is well."
She hadn't asked after that. Sakura trailed after her into the store, and they walked to the counter. It had just began to rain outside. Thunder clapped in the distance. They all glanced to the window. "Darn," Sakura said, "I hope it stops before we leave."
Ino nodded and Shikamaru sighed again. "You're lucky. You just made it inside."
Ino waved her hand. "It's just a little bit of rain, Shikamaru. It's not that big of a deal."
Thunder rolled nearer to them, and then, it started to rain harder. Ino blinked, and Shikamaru shook his head. "Are you two going to order something?" he asked, curtly, though his tone held no anger or malice.
Ino smirked devilishly, and looked at the menu. "Well, Shikamaru. . ."
The dark-haired boy groaned inwardly. He should have known better than to ask if Ino was going to order anything. She always took so long to decide, and then, when she did, she changed her mind several times before she finally settled on something. He hated it. He knew she did it just to bug him.
"I shouldn't have asked," he grumbled, and glanced at Choji, who was laughing silently at him.
- - - - - - - - -
Naruto ran from the bus stop, holding his hands over his head, as if they might prevent him from getting wet. The rapidly forming puddles nearly swallowed his feet, and water splashed all the way up his legs, all over him. He did his best to ignore it. He tried to ignore the threatening sound of the thunder in the background. He tried to pretend that this wasn't symbolic, because it most likely wasn't.
He was glad to get out of the rain. His clothes were sticking to him, and now, the humidity of the building made him itchy and uncomfortable, but he was glad to be out of the rain. He started jogging up the stairs, ignoring the wet squishing sound his shoes made as he went, trying to keep moving so that he couldn't dwell on his discomfort.
He knocked on the apartment door when he reached the specified number. Then, he waited. The door was worn, and old, and it matched the rest of the building's interior. He fiddled with the sleeves of his t-shirt, trying to stop them from sticking to his skin.
The door creaked open, and Orochimaru stuck his head out into the hallway. He gave Naruto a strange look, then smiled a smirk that made the blond feel a little bit queasy. Was he doing the right thing? He hoped he was.
He went silently into the snake's lair, hoping to learn a thing or two, and he didn't know why, but he wanted to get out of there quickly. He heard the door shut and lock behind him. Was this the way the snake snared all of his victims? He wondered how many victims there had been, how many other people had been in this room, in this same situation. But now, he was here for Sasuke's sake, and somehow, that was supposed to redeem him.
He turned about to face the elder teen. "Okay," he said, sounding almost surly. "Here I am. Teach me."
Orochimaru ignored him though, moving about him, and said something in passing about dinner. Naruto frowned. He didn't like this. He wasn't here for entertainment value. He was here to learn something, quick as he could, and be on his way. He didn't want to stay for dinner and he didn't want to stay in Orochimaru's presence any longer than he had to. There was something slimy about him.
He realized he must have been scowling, because the older teen laughed. "Really, Naruto," he said, with a reproving look. "Don't look so sulky. You want to impress Sasuke, right?"
Naruto wondered just how the bastard knew exactly how to manipulate him. "Yes," he replied, almost reluctantly.
"Do you know how to cook anything beyond instant ramen?"
Naruto shook his head, a little bit embarrassed. The elder teen rolled his eyes. "Really," he commented dryly. "Sasuke's an Uchiha, for crying out loud, Naruto. If you want to impress him, you make fancy cuisine."
Naruto blinked in surprise. "You mean. . .you're teaching me to cook?" he asked, sounding almost incredulous. He could have laughed. Really, he could have laughed hysterically.
Orochimaru raised an eyebrow. "Yes. What did you think I was going to teach you?"
Naruto shook his head and bit his lip. He looked at the floor, plastered on a smile, then looked back up again. "Nothing. I really had no idea what to expect."
"Well then," Orochimaru said, meandering into the kitchenette, with Naruto trailing behind him. "Shall we get started?"
- - - - - - -
(A/N: R&R?)