pacific
Asuma

a brief interlude of something odd
i look past myself.

"You know, Asuma," Kakashi spoke up out of nowhere. "If you really have nothing better to do than hang out here, maybe you should do this paperwork for me."

"Huh?" I opened my eyes to find myself face-down on the familiar battle-scarred brown pleather of the jounin lounge's couch. I must have dozed off without realizing it. Dreams of the sea, dreams of days in smoky temples and friends I hadn't seen in years faded from my mind's eye too slowly, blurring in my dull brain, and I had to blink, blink again and get my bearings. It wasn't quick like I should be when I wake up. Shinobi must always wake like a pinprick, ever alert, says the manual we memorize at the Academy.

I was lying on the couch in the breakroom. The vending machine's familiar hum welcomed me back from sleep. The room's lone tiny window had grown dark, and I no longer heard busy daytime office noises from down the hall. I scooted myself into a more upright position on the overstuffed and overly worn couch. With a yawn, I attempted to rub away the upholstery marks I was sure were pressed on my mug. "Ugh. What time is it?"

"Too late for normal people to be here," Kakashi remarked, his visible eye trained on the paperwork he was busy filling out.

Seated at the table in the middle of the starkly furnished lounge, my co-worker was processing a stack of paperwork (had he put it all off until the last minute again?) with only a cheap flourescent desk lamp for light. The artificial glow of the lamp dyed him a rather disagreeable sallow tone. His vest was slung over the back of his chair and the effect was really strange. It's weird, only a bit of Kakashi's skin is ever exposed: the part of his face not covered by mask, forehead protector, or drooping hair; and the pale ghostly tips of his fingers. Even so, somehow at the moment he seemed quite naked, as though seeing Hatake Kakashi without his protective vest was something that just should not be.

He looked so much thinner than usual, without his vest on. I wondered what he eats like, how often he sleeps. From what I know, it's not much or often. Over the years he has often given me the impression of someone who is existing on his last thread, in more ways than one. Kakashi has never been one to take much time or slack for his own comfort. Poor punctuality tendencies aside, he's a soldier in ways I never will be. He's ten times the killer I am, cold-blooded and almost entirely emotionless. And by that I don't mean that he's monotone and never shows emotion. It's more like he never shows his real emotions. Kakashi is detached from us all and incredibly skilled at maintaining that.

Now he was busily writing as though it were his sole purpose in life. The scratches and taps of his black ballpoint pen on the paper punctuated just how silent the head office building was now.

"I was waiting until the meeting with the elders was over..." I trailed off by way of explanation. As if I needed to explain to him why I was here, defend myself for hanging out in a common area.

"He's already gone home," Kakashi informed me, knowing who I was waiting for somehow without me even mentioning the name.

"I thought as much," I replied. I had just been entertaining the idea of talking to him for a minute, but I had missed him, I guess. Well. Better luck next time.

Kakashi ran his fingers through his impossibly white hair, scratching his head. When he spoke, his tone was distant. "He left something for you."

"Hm?" I grunted, already having started feeling around in my pocket for my pack of cigarettes.

"In the refrigerator. A messenger brought it from his office."

Smoke momentarily postponed, I stood and went to the fridge in the corner, with not a little trepidation. I felt totally unsure what to expect. What would he have sent to me, and why would he bother? When did he have time to think about me?

Upon opening the door, I spied it. A plastic tupperware container with an office sticky note, lemon yellow. On the small square of paper, the characters for my name had been written in old-fashioned hand. The old man's ancient script was painstaking and steady as ever.

I popped the lid off, wondering what was inside. A peek into the plastic box revealed, of all things, a hefty serving of casserole. Potatoes au gratin to be exact. Sliced potatoes and ham, drowned in cheese and a little milk and butter and oven-browned to perfection.

I snorted, staring in disbelief at the potatoes arranged carefully in the plastic box. "Crazy old man."

"Human heart?" the silver-haired jounin at the table behind me drawled.

"Nah," I told him. "Potatoes, actually." I slapped the ancient and crusty microwave open-- in the jounin lounge, almost everything is ancient and crusty, you know-- and inserted my meal. "Want some?"

"Maybe," Kakashi admitted, turning a page. "I'll give it a look when it comes out. But incidentally, I was hoping it was something more interesting."

I laughed half-heartedly. Oh, Kakashi. "No such luck, then."

I closed the door and went about setting the time and tempterature. Behind me, I heard him turn a page. The speed of his writing was even and slow. A glance over my shoulder revealed that the form he was filling out wasn't one I'd had to do. I wondered if it had anything to do with that mess that had happened towards the end of the preliminary fights yesterday, with Uchiha Sasuke going to the hospital under guard by a team of elite Anbu in the high security ward. He hadn't told me anything about it, but I had heard rumors that something was up, that something funny had happened during the second exam, that it might be Orochimaru. And the old man, as usual, was doing nothing about it yet. Typical.

Two and a half minutes later, the air was filled with the gentle aroma of ham and cheese. I dug around in the silverware drawer for actual silverware. It would seem that this drawer contained everything but. Kunai, senbon, ketchup packets, cotton swabs, grape-flavored condoms, a guitar pick, and a very, very old looking pair of ration bars. Typical jounin breakroom fare. I peered down at the ration bars, pondering the rather dated-looking font on the wrappers. "How long have these been in there?"

"Not long," was my masked companion's smooth reply. "And that grape lube on them is--"

"I meant the ration bars," I insisted, holding one up as if I needed proof.

Kakashi snickered as though he found me fun to tease. "You should be at home."

I huffed. "Yeah, yeah, yeah."

Now he sighed and glanced up at me, searchingly. The man is one year younger than me, but sometimes it feels like he's much, much older. The light from the desk lamp at the table shone in such a way that it seemed that the lines of his face were hardened. His skin was drier, his single eye much more tired. He tilted his head and for all the world, looked up at me with the manner of a weary, sad uncle. "Why aren't you home?" he asked, quietly.

"I don't know," I truthfully admitted. I went back to my search, possibly to avoid his keen gaze. In the very, very back of the drawer I found one plastic spork. Bingo. "I was filling out the paperwork for Shikamaru's entry into the finals. I got kind of stuck on the bio, and well..."

Kakashi raised an eyebrow now, regarding me with one steely eye. "Well, like I said, if you insist on staying here, you can always make yourself useful. Write one of mine for me."

I snorted and opened the microwave. Yeah, he'd have to write two, wouldn't he? Uchiha Sasuke and Uzumaki Naruto had both won their matches. Kakashi's team was really something else. "No, thanks. 'ppreciate the offer, though."

The tupperware was hot, too hot. You can never tell with this microwave. It decides for itself when it wants to work and to what extent. I've done a bowl of rice for four minutes and it's still cold. Popcorn is just impossible, you either get a bag full of seeds or a bag full of ashy mess. I unrolled my sleeve and pulled my hand inside to give my fingers a little protection from the searing plastic. "Yeowch. Ow. Owowow--" here I successfully deposited my cargo onto the table-- "Ahh."

The silver shock of hair at the table shook once in mild disapproval. "You're a baby."

"I know," I told him, shaking my fingers to cool them. "I know." I am indeed, the baby of the family, the second son of the second wife and the youngest of a handful of kids. Maybe this is where our differences lie. While I was coddled as the baby of the family, Kakashi's always had it rough. All the terrible shit happens to Kakashi. I can't remember when he didn't wear a mask over the bottom of his face. I can't remember him ever mentioning his mother. I can't remember him ever being normal or having relationships or laughing without that weary, dark note in the back of his throat.

I jabbed the spork into the potatoes. "Dinner is served."

Kakashi sniffed the air. "Doesn't smell too bad, actually."

"Course not," I told him. "It's my mom's recipe. It was her fa--"

There was a pause, and we both realized. One of those little invisible lines that exist between friends had been crossed. A subject had just been mentioned which had never been mentioned between us before. But we both pretended we hadn't noticed, plowing on ahead bravely and blunderingly, like only two socially inept men who consider themselves sort-of close buddies can do.

"--vorite thing to make for us," I finished, feeling my voice trail off.

"Oh?" Was all he said, with all the slickness he could muster.

"Yeah," I told him, with a sheepish smile. I thumbed the spork's plastic handle thoughfully. "We used to eat this all the time. Before."

"I see," Kakashi replied. I guess something in my voice or manner plucked Kakashi's attention. He paused in his writing, but the pen was still poised in the air above his papers. His gaze has the feel of an x-ray machine, equipped with the ability to see right through me. Even with just one eye, he misses nothing.

He straightened from his paperwork, dutiful all of a sudden. "In that case, I'll try some," he sighed.

So I took a big bite and slid the plastic container his way. Then I looked away out of practiced habit. He doesn't like it when people watch him eat. "Sure," I said, forcing myself to sound bright. "Eat up, man."

He took two quick bites, and slid the box back to me. "It's good," he murmured. His eye seemed to be gazing at something a million miles away.

I wonder what kind of food Kakashi's mother used to make. I wonder what she was like. I have never ever heard about her existence, just about his father. I remember seeing his father before. He was kind of hard to miss, what with the fame and the stand-up white hair and all. His death had been hard to miss, too. It had left a giant scar in Kakashi's life, that was for sure. Everyone who has been openly important to Kakashi seems to have left him with a giant scar.

I stuffed another bite in my mouth and nodded weakly. "Yeah, it is, huh?"

I wonder if it's inconsiderate for me to be offering Kakashi some of my dead mother's potatoes. If it's rude to Kakashi for me to have my own father right there and not go talk to him. If, when viewed through Kakashi's keen eye, I am a total prick.

Kakashi grabbed another bite as I glanced away for him. "It's good," he repeated. We both sat and chewed slowly, thoughtfully contemplating potato, cheese, milk, ham.

"Yeah." I accepted the tupperware from him again and smiled down at the contents.

There's something weird about things like this. Just a smell or a taste of something can back things you thought you had forgotten or buried away. I've smelled my grandma's perfume on a passing lady, or I can hear my uncle's drawl as I walk past the tea shops, see my brother when I see a kid-- the kid laughing. Sometimes when the old men are sitting out smoking their pipes in the evening sun the memories rush back like a flash flood, and I am small again, and full of many dreams.

I wonder about it sometimes. Not often. I don't think about this kind of stuff often. But every once in a long, long while, the thought crosses my mind. If they could see me now, from whereever they are, what would they think of me? Would they be ashamed? What would they say to me after all of the foolish things I've said and done?

"Asuma," Kakashi said, stabbing into my thoughts. "Why aren't you home?" The fact that he would repeat the same question again belied the fact it was bothering him for some reason. He'd only ask if he were less than fifty percent certain as to why I wasn't home. Any more than fifty percent and he wouldn't bother to ask, he'd guess. And he's always right when he guesses with me.

"I can't sleep," I laughed, through the potatoes. What a retarded excuse. I felt like a total fool. That's just not usual, for me. I sleep whenever, wherever. And I don't wake up easily. That's my nature. Things don't get to me. I'm just boring old me and I plod my way through, simple as that.

I rubbed my face, feeling chagrin. "I couldn't sleep at all. But I fell asleep on that damn, dirty, sticky couch." Face-down, too. Face-down on the couch that (if rumors are true) has probably seen more illicit action than any other horizontal surface in the village. Eww.

I sure as hell felt stupid being the one who was having trouble sleeping. My kids were all fine, for god's sake. Rock Lee, Hinata Hyuuga, Uchiha Sasuke, they were all in the hospital and damaged and full of tubes and needles and pain. They or their teachers should be the ones who were affected, not me. Why should it bother me? It didn't have anything to do with me. Was I being a drama queen? Where the hell did I get off being an ass like I was today?

"Happens to the best of us," he informed me, picking his pen back up and avoiding my gaze. "Little insomnia is nothing to make a big deal about."

I couldn't stop chuckling. "I don't understand anything," I admitted, to no one in particular. I don't know why the hell I'm here, why the old man gave me potatoes, why he let her go into battle, why I said the things I said back then. I don't know anymore why I do what I do. I used to think I knew, but now... Now I just do it. I don't think much about it, and I don't make extra effort or anything. I don't go for heroics. I just try and get my own ass through and be fine with just that. I just follow along and go with the flow and hope the tide doesn't swallow the things that are me up in the process.

Kakashi sighed, in a way only Kakashi can. It's a sigh of darkness and exhaustion held at the brink, a sigh of pity and sympathy and a desire to understand mixed with inability to relate all in one exhale.

"You shouldn't be here, Asuma." He was apparently out of patience with the baby for now. "Go be normal. Go out and make some friends or something. Get yourself laid."

"No," I said, just as stubborn as I was twelve years ago. And I passed him the potatoes.

"Aha. There you are," Gai broke in, appearing in green spandex splendor at the doorway. He must have been tired, because he didn't punctuate this statement with the usual "my eternal rival."

I looked up, and Kakashi did too. "Ah. Good. I'm saved from Happy Family Nostalgia Time."

I flinched at this, feeling embarrassment at the sting in his words. I am indeed a total fool.

Gai blinked his dark lashes. "It is much too dark in here to be writing. That can't be good for the eyes, Hatake Kakashi."

"Eye," Kakashi corrected, turning over another page and starting on a new one.

"Look at that mountain of paperwork-- Happy Family Nostalgia Time?" Mid-scolding, Gai's inexplicably smooth head of hair tilted to one side as he snagged on Kakashi's words. He shifted his eyes from Kakashi to me, quizzical.

"Want some potatoes?" I offered, feeling the intense need to distract. I really didn't need Gai to know what he was talking about. It was only sure to make that little ouch into a big stupid one.

Gai eyed the potatoes in the container. "Those smell good, but they look to be quite high in calories and fat."

"How do you think I maintain my lovely figure?" I tried to joke, with a chuckle. I gave a little pose for effect.

"What's so funny?" a silky voice asked from the doorway. There was Kurenai, her hands folded neatly in front of her. Now she peered into the lounge. "Goodness, it's dark in here."

"Oh, joy," Kakashi intoned. "Are you going to join our merry band, too?"

Kurenai tucked her dark hair behind one ear. Her ruby eyes darted from me to Kakashi to Gai, and back to Kakashi.

To my relief, even after we had sat in the hospital outside Hyuuga Hinata's room all night last night, Kurenai looked okay. Tired, yeah, but okay. The line of her lips was calm, and her shoulders were back to her usual confident posture. The expression on her face was thoughtful as she examined the scene. "I was thinking about it, maybe. Something smells good," she added, entering the room.

"Potatoes," I offered by way of explanation. I am the king of eloquent conversation with the opposite sex.

"They're potatoes from the Hokage," Kakashi informed her. He finished another page and moved it to the 'done' stack.

"Is that all you're eating for dinner?" she asked, peering over Gai's shoulder into the little plastic box.

"Um, yeah," I replied, lamely. I glanced up at her and shrugged. "I think so."

"I'll be right back," she replied, and then she breezed right back out of the door.

"How was the hospital?" Kakashi ventured, turning his attention to Gai and forgetting about poking fun at me.

"They finally kicked us out," Gai replied, rueful. With the flick of one able finger, the overhead lights were turned on. Kakashi blinked and made a hiss when this happened, expressing displeasure at the bright bluish glare now invading our eyes. "Lee is doing better, but he's in a lot of pain for now. He's..." here the man's voice wavered just a bit, "He's been heavily sedated until they can repair the damage to the spinal cord and nervous system."

I blinked down at the potatoes. Finished talking, Gai sank into a chair beside his eternal rival and propped his elbows on the table.

"I'm sorry, Gai." Kakashi offered, for once managing to sound sincere.

"Me too," I added. "Poor kid."

"Not as sorry as I am," Gai said quietly.

The silence that followed pressed down heavily on the three of us gathered there at the table.

It was hard for me to imagine what Gai and his student was going through at the moment, since the fights yesterday. The whole thing seemed a little unreal and bizarre, from Rock Lee's amazing strength and too-wholesome personality to that little monster Gaara and his weird abilities. Kind of hard to get my head around it all, I guess. It was pretty unusual for me to see Gai in any state other than explosive energy. In fact, just the saddened, hollow look on his face was enough to make me feel uncomfortable. Nothing upsets Gai. Nothing gets him down. If something does succeed in getting Gai down, I know things are really getting shitty.

At times Maito Gai is superhuman to me, someone who just appeared from nowhere on our planet and began undertaking shinobi training. He excels at almost everything he does, rocketing through life fueled by frenetic willpower. He doesn't get personal much. I don't know anything about his family or anything. He's like a big green peanut M&M, with a thick shiny sweet candy shell that you can't often see through.

But now, as he sat there before me, without silliness or challenges or dazzling smiles... he just seemed so normal, so human and fallible. Gai's eyes were tired, his mouth grave. He looked in need of a shower and some sleep. By the looks of things he had probably not left the hospital since yesterday. I knew he held himself responsible for his student's injury, and possibly also partially responsible for Hyuuga Neji's behavior during his match as well. I had no idea what to say to him. There probably wasn't anything I could say.

So I slid the tupperware and spork in Gai's direction. "Here, eat."

"Asuma," Gai said, accepting the offer of comfort food with a little smile, "You're a good man."

"He's just adorably simple, isn't he?" Kakashi muttered, his eye on the old mission reports he was now filling out. "A regular teddy bear. Take him somewhere else so I can finish this paperwork."

"It would appear that you have yet again put your paperwork off till the last minute," Gai observed, taking a modest spoonful with the plastic spork. "If you're having trouble, it's your own fault, not his."

"But it is his fault," Kakashi explained. "He's very distracting."

"How is that?" I scratched my messy head and pulled the ashtray over. "I didn't do anything."

Gai elbowed Kakashi as I felt into my pocket for my pack. It's funny, whenever my fingers find that slim cardboard box, I already start to feel better. "Cut it out, Kakashi," my green-suited coworker admonished. "He's keeping you company. You should be thankful."

"I didn't want to be kept company," Kakashi retorted, finishing another page and laying it down neatly on the 'done' stack he had piled up. "I came here to be alone, and it has somehow escalated into Jounin Party Time."

Kakashi is as cuddly as a cactus, as usual. And Gai will always prod him towards other people whether he likes it or not. I smiled at the two and lit up a cigarette.

As I was still sucking the flame into life, I was surprised to see Kurenai appear at the doorway again. She peeked in, almost shyly. The shadows of the darkened hallway played with the deep shades of her hair as she bent her head forward into the room. "A party, now, hm?"

"Hail, Hail, the Gang's All Here," Kakashi announced.

"What have you got there?" I asked, looking over Gai to where she stood. Kurenai was carrying some large grocery bags with her. I kind of wondered how she had managed to get all of that all by herself. Why had she gone shopping all of a sudden, anyway? Was that some kind of girl thing?

"What indeed?" Gai asked, rising from the table in order to help.

"Well," she said, blinking long eyelashes rapidly. Her eyes were keen as she regarded us, her words clear. The sound of her speech was kind of a welcome shift to my ears. She has a nice voice, a pleasant voice.

"It's dinner," she explained. "I went to the deli and I got some hot food. But Kakashi seems to want to be alone, apparently, so I'll just take this and--" With this Kurenai gazed down at her cargo, as though pondering taking it back to her apartment and eating it all by her little self. She opened one of the white plastic bags she had in tow, checking the contents. A delicious aroma wafted from the bag right over to tease our noses.

Kakashi twitched and then surrendered (albeit with sarcasm). "Oh, you might as well stay, Kurenai. We can all do our paperwork together. It'll be great fun."

I grinned. Gai laughed. "Ah, Kurenai-sensei. You are indeed a clever lady." He strode over to her to assist with the bags. "He's hungry, I'm sure. He'll never admit it, though. And I myself am rather famished."

"I know," Kurenai said, her red eyes lifting up to his. Her face softened as she murmured, "You haven't eaten at all since yesterday. I heard at the hospital."

"That's true, I hadn't," Gai answered, smiling gallantly down at her in such a way as only a manly man in spandex can pull off. "You didn't need to go to all this trouble, though, sensei."

"I know," she replied. She nodded to him, warm. "but I was hungry, too." This is was kind of a side of Kurenai I hadn't seen before. A thoughtful side, a shyly generous side. I decided it was rather likeable. I mean, people who notice things that other people need are kind of few and far between, wouldn't you say?

"What did you get?" I asked, helping them to unpack a little from my seated position. I peered into a bag, contemplating. "This is a lot of food." Wouldn't this have been expensive?

Kurenai tucked her hair behind her left ear and passed me a small stack of paper plates. "Not really. Chicken. Salad. Drinks. Some fruit."

Gai clearly approved of the menu. "It all looks very nutritious, too."

"I'll chip in for some," I offered, helpfully. I took out my wallet to give her a couple of bills to cover the cost. God, that chicken smelled so good that I was drooling. "I'm starved."

"You were just chowing down on your potatoes, nostalgia boy." Kakashi reminded me. He moved his paperwork aside in resignation.

"Just potatoes isn't a good dinner," Kurenai pointed out. She nodded to me and pocketed the money in a discreet manner.

"Oh ho," Gai broke in. "Kurenai-sensei seems to know what kind of beer our Asuma likes best." He removed a six-pack of tall cans of my usual brew from one bag.

"Awesome," I chimed in. It looked cold, even. Ten points for Kurenai.

"Lucky guess," she shrugged. But her eyes darted back to my happy smile, and you could tell she was pleased.

Kakashi raised one sleek eyebrow. "Ah. But does she know where he keeps the grape con--"

"Those aren't mine!" I laughed, cutting him off before he could finish. I received a can of beer from Gai's manly hand and rubbed out my smoke. "And you know it."

Kurenai's eyes flickered to me and then to Kakashi, and I squirmed under her fiery gaze. Kakashi smirked, enjoying the moment. "Aha, it seems she didn't know."

"You mean the grape condoms in the silverware drawer?" she asked, cool as anything. "Those are Ibiki's."

I just about spit my beer out all over Gai's shining dome of hair. I've really got to work on this timing when drinking thing. I seem to be having trouble with it lately. "Ib-Ibiki's? How..." I couldn't bring myself to finish the question. How the hell does she know that? And why?

The huge grin under Kakashi's mask was visible. Apparently he found this very interesting. And Kurenai just smiled, knowing she had won herself a little ground.

"It was a joke, Asuma," she said, softly. She gave me a paper napkin and sat down beside me at the table. Kakashi reached over me to grab some salad and Gai gave me a plastic fork.

"Oh," I replied, relieved beyond words. Phew. The idea of Kurenai and Ibiki just is like, no. Okay, okay, the idea of just about anyone and Ibiki-- especially in the breakroom-- is just no.

Gai passed me the chicken and I accepted, gratefully. There was quite a bit of food, and it all smelled awesome. Eating with other people is always more enjoyable than eating alone. Food shared with family is most delicious, the saying goes. Perhaps this is kind of what family has become for us.

I used to think when I was younger that my co-workers and I were all the same. It's not true. We're vastly different, different abilities, different personalities, different problems and fears and hopes. I often find myself feeling inadequate when I compare myself to the others. There's nothing I'm an expert at. There's nothing I have that someone else can't already do better.

But maybe at times like this, we are all the same. We all have things that we're dealing with. We all have our pride-- and pain that lies behind that pride. But we are all together, and we are all hungry, and we all need something. And we can all share and we can all laugh a little and listen a little.

Gai munched his salad and chatted with Kakashi. Kakashi nibbled at his chicken and made his usual one-liners. I passed the rest of the potatoes Kurenai's way. As for Kurenai, she was watching me closely, with that look on her face that makes me feel like a goldfish in a bowl. I raked my fingers through my hair and tried to laugh off the self-conscious feeling of her eyes on me.

"Hey, Kurenai?" I ventured. "Thanks for grabbing food." Just potatoes for dinner is kind of lame, after all.

"You're welcome," she murmured in reply, and nodded to me in acceptance. As she looked up, our eyes met briefly, and she offered me one of those fleeting, quiet smiles. A little flash of pearly teeth behind a gentle curve of perfectly painted pink lips, shockingly red eyes meet and touch with yours and then drop away again behind long lashes, hiding from view. And I find I can't really think for a second or two, I'm just taken aback by how nice she looks. How pleasant her face is, and my god, how bad I must look to her in comparison.

But if this was so, Kurenai made no statements to this effect. She simply held a container of fruit salad out to me in one neatly manicured hand. The polish on her fingernails was exactly the color of the raspberries in the container. It looked nice on her, kind of a warm, sweet summery color. "Here, Asuma. Eat."

People are all afraid of something. People are all lonely inside. That's why we do what we do, why we fight, why we keep moving through life. We're trying to erase our fears, find something to take away that loneliness. And time passes and days overlap and bring good and bad changes, and somewhere within that passage of time we try to find the things that are really important to us, the things that really finally give us peace.

But until we really find that peace, all we have is just what makes us feel better, safer, give us a bit of warmth. Some kind of a good feeling that bites back at the coldness, that keeps the darkness at bay. We're always moving on and in a state of becoming, we'll never have a perfect world here. We have to try and find it in our everyday experience.

And so maybe sometimes the best feeling in the world is just some fruit salad in a little plastic deli container, from the hand of a person who took the time to think about your well-being for a moment. Maybe the nicest thing in the world is just sitting there with people that you like and existing for a little while together. Perhaps the most perfect place in the whole world is a place in which people are not perfect, but they're at peace with each other.

"Kakashi, I bet that I can drink more beer than you can."

"Go ahead. I don't care."

"Aha! So! Running away before the challenge even begins, again, eh? You fear my mighty liver, don't you? As well you should!"

"Is someone talking? Did you hear something, Asuma?"

Well. Make that, relatively at peace with each other.

I smiled to myself and sat back in my chair. And Kurenai just looked at me from over her can of beer, her eyes smiling and her rose-stained lips tranquil.