A/N: Omg here it is! As promised. Hope you all enjoy!


Chapter 1

My heart is aching for something and I don't know what. Purpose, maybe? Honor? Family? Love? Maybe even all? All I know is that I feel empty and lost. I'm just going through the motions of everyday; sometimes I can't even remember what I did the whole day, and try as I might, I can't recall anything at all.

Sometimes, I even forget how old I am. When someone asks, I have to check the calendar and actually count the years I've been alive.

Most of the time, the number feels unreal and I'm always at a loss.


Tenten was staring at the blank document in silence, fingers hovering over the keyboard yet nothing was being written down.

"Miss?"

She blinked. God, what day is it today again?

She glanced at the bottom right corner of her screen, the date imprinting itself inside her mind.

January 19, 2018.

Yes, of course. New Years was just two weeks ago, where she drank herself to a stupor in the privacy of her spacious loft apartment. Tenten mentally beat herself up for forgetting.

A small movement caught itself in the corner of her vision. She raised her eyes to see the striking orange pigtails of her secretary, Moegi, her hand raised and waving in an effort to get noticed.

Tenten blinked at her, once, and asked, "Yes?"

She noticed how her secretary bit her lip in apprehension before saying, "Its past down time now, Miss Tenten."

Tenten cocked her head to the side, spying the clock just past Moegi's head. Correction: it was thirty minutes past down time, Tenten thought to herself.

"It appears so," said Tenten, nodding. Closing the word document and shutting off her laptop, she told Moegi, "You shouldn't have waited for me, you know."

When she saw her secretary flush and open her mouth to retort, Tenten beat her to it.

"You can slack off once in a while. I don't mind and I certainly won't tell." She gave a small smile, placing her laptop in her bag and zipping it shut.

She straightened her back and rolled her neck, after which, she finally faced the young woman, whose mouth was agape and a loss for words, prompting a chuckle from her lips.

The sound must've set the gears in her head working again as Moegi frantically shook her head, a blush on her face.

But her voice was firm and just the right amount of rebuking when she said, "I'm under orders from the Big Man himself to kick you out of the office if you're still here thirty minutes past five."

"Here I thought that I was your direct supervisor, and that you must only take orders from me," Tenten sighed theatrically as she opened her office door. She gestured for her secretary to go first before going out herself and locking the door behind her.

When she turned around, Moegi already had her bag in hand and her cubicle lights off and she was giving her a sheepish smile.

"Sorry boss, but you're not exactly the one giving my paycheck."

Tenten rolled her eyes and waved her off mumbling, "Technicalities."

Bags on hand and ready to go, both women started towards the elevator whilst going over their schedule come Monday.

Her workplace only covered eight floors of the building, with each floor having a single department head. In her drudgery, the department head of this floor was herself. Not that it was a bad thing, per se. On the contrary, the work atmosphere's good, the benefits were good and the pay was great. It's just that, the way the floors were designed, the department head's office is always the farthest from the elevator, in such a way that she will have to pass by everyone in her floor to and fro her office.

Normally, she was fine with it. She loved talking with her colleagues and taking part with the occasional coffee break gossip. Only with the few who were brave enough to do so with their boss, of course.

But now, she wanted to be left alone more often than not, and she sometimes dreaded the walk between her office and the elevator. The past few weeks had left her feeling a bit down.

So much so that the head honcho of the company gave specific orders to not let herself be overworked. The thought almost made her scowl, if not for the few stragglers remaining to finish up their work giving their farewells, she would have. She gave them nods, a few smiles and empty threats of this better not be an everyday thing, instead.

Gods, she needed a drink.

"Are you going straight home, Miss Ten?"

I'm going to drink myself silly. At a bar this time. Drinking at home is not worth the mess it makes.

It took a while before Moegi's words registered and Tenten shook her head slightly at her inattentiveness. They were already outside the building.

"Yeah, I need to clean some stuff out before dinner." The lie easily left her lips and Tenten chose not to dwell on it. "You?"

The goofy smile and the subsequent flush prompted a raised eyebrow.

"I got a date today, remember?" She beamed.

Tenten wanted to face palm. How could she forget? Her secretary had squealed so much that Tenten nearly threw her office doors out of its hinges when the man in question asked her out over the phone.

A stern glare and a brief reprimand about office hours not being the time for personal matters resulted after the congratulations.

"Right, right." Really, she should be more heedful of others' affairs. "With the video-game maker, right?"

"Programmer, and yes!" Moegi squealed again and Tenten almost cringed, but gave a supportive smile instead.

"Well, the bus that will take you out of here is about to leave soon so I suggest you hurry home and prepare then."

Moegi hissed a curse and ran towards the bus stop just a scant few meters off from the building. After successfully boarding, Tenten could see her through the window, standing and waving goodbye. She gave a small smile and a raised hand back.

When the bus was out of sight, Tenten's mood turned somber.

Yes. A drink sounded good.


When she arrived at the classy pub, it was only about nine in the evening. She had dropped her work things at home and took a shower, ate dinner on the way, taking only some few essentials in a small shoulder bag.

She wasn't an alcoholic. The only time she ever really drank was during her college days, and even then it was mostly due to peer pressure and an aching need to feel less awkward around other people in parties. It didn't have its designated effect, seeing as rather than making her more outgoing, it did nothing but heighten her alcohol tolerance.

She really wasn't, up to present, a socialite. She had trouble connecting with other people, and thus she had little in way of friends. But the alcohol helps. Most of the time.

At present though, she was way beyond her collegiate self, and has accepted the fact that she was, and forever will be, awkward and introverted. She had always functioned well enough on her own, and despite the pangs of loneliness at times, she was fine with it. Be that as it may, it didn't explain the glass of vodka she was nursing and the imprint her ass was making on the bar stool two hours after her arrival.

Tonight, similar to the one she had two weeks ago, the alcohol was there to numb. To make her forget.

I never hear from you these days, but I'm doing fine.

Tenten closed her eyes as the words flashed through her mind in black ink and she downed the remaining liquid in her glass, savoring the burn it made down her throat and the warmth that settled on her stomach.

Raucous cheers were made by a group near the back of the pub and the clinking of glass echoed noisily above the idle chatter of the pub's regular patrons. Honestly, the reason why she chose this place despite its rather pricy menu was because the college crowd could not otherwise afford it.

Breaking away from her thoughts, she focused her glower on the noisy group. There were about six to eight people clustered together, and judging their choice of corporate suits, not college students at all despite her initial misgivings.

One would think that people who looked to be in their late twenties and early thirties would be more discreet in their affairs. The group was still focused in their merriment, and from what Tenten could glean from the fervent pat on the backs and nudging elbows, they were congratulating a particular person whose back was turned towards her, letting her unable to see that person's face. She noted the long hair though.

With a last glare, she turned to her empty glass again, debating whether or not to order another glass of vodka. Or a shot of tequila.

How are you? I hope you're doing well. I heard from–

"Excuse me? Another round please? Thank you." The sound of glass hitting hard wood broke her reverie and Tenten snapped her head towards the man with a baritone voice.

It took her a second to realize that it was the same man that was being congratulated by the noisy group. The man with the long hair.

"Lost that round, did you?" The bartender quipped whilst taking the empty tankards and preparing new ones to be filled.

"Yeah," the long haired man confirmed. "I was never really good at making bets."

The bartender chuckled but did not reply. The man sat on the bar stool, back on the counter and facing the room. He didn't seem upset, seemingly undeterred by the fact that he, as mentioned, lost a bet and had to pay for a rather expensive round of beer.

As a matter of fact, he seemed rather at ease, something Tenten envied. She noted the aristocratic nose, the high cheekbones. His suit seemed to be tailored with how it fabulously fits his sinewy build.

Suddenly conscious of the fact that she was unabashedly checking someone out, she lifted her gaze and made the mistake of looking at his eyes, a shockingly pale lavender color, which had locked on her own.

She felt heat crawling up her face at being caught staring, and she spied an arrogant smirk forming on his. And thus, when faced in an awkward situation with a, conceited she thought, stranger, Tenten scowled, faced her empty glass again, and ignored him.

Or she tried to at least. The thing about being embarrassed was that no matter how much you wanted the floor to swallow you whole, it won't.

The particular thing about Tenten being embarrassed was that she became hyperaware of her surroundings, making her more embarrassed. She just wanted to drink her sorrows away, damn it.

From the corner of her eye, Tenten could see him shift on the stool, facing the counter instead. She duly noted that only one stool separated them.

In resignation, she raised a hand for the other bartender, the one who kept track of her drinks and not the one who was refilling the tankards. "Tequila, please."

She could see him observe her but paid him no heed. The hesitance of the bartender with her order taking her attention and a frown was forming on her lips.

"Are you sure Miss? You already had a lot to drink since you came," the bartender seemed genuinely concerned, her red brows furrowed, and it was only then that Tenten noticed the dark skinned woman had such piercing gold eyes. Pinning the observation for later, her mind was resolute and quickly losing its haze. She was sobering up, she mentally cursed.

"Yes, I'm sure." Her answer was terse and, a little, rude. Tenten took a deep breath and offered the woman a weak smile, "Besides, I'll be leaving soon. It will be my last."

The bartender stared at her warily before acquiescing to her request. Soon enough, her glass was taken away and was replaced by a shot of the golden brown liquid.

With a sigh, chin on her palm and elbow on the counter, Tenten swirled the liquid in the glass in her other hand, staring as if in a trance.

We missed you during New Year. Well, at least I did.

She had received the letter two weeks ago, it still lay opened on her coffee table. She had taken to reading it every night, that when she closes her eyes she could see his penmanship on the starch white paper.

Before she delved into it further, tequila soon found its way burning down her throat and she relished in it. Nope. Not an alcoholic at all.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

She nearly slipped out of her stool in shock. Her bag, formerly situated on the stool on her left, was not as lucky as she accidentally knocked it off its seat, spilling its minimal contents on the floor.

Muttering a curse, Tenten reached down to pick up her things only for her vision to sway and her knees to buckle. She tried to frantically reach for something to hold on to when the man with the long hair grabbed her by the upper arm and steadied her, guiding her to her seat.

Maybe the bartender was right. She had a lot to drink.

Cupping her face to keep the swaying at bay, she groaned into her hands.

A tall glass of water was shoved under her and when she looked up, the chocolate-skinned bartender gave her a sardonic smile before attending to other customers. Begrudgingly, she took a sip.

"How are you feeling?" asked the long haired man but Tenten merely waved him off as she took another sip.

"Fine, just fine. Thank you for your assistance," she said, not looking at him. He had scooped up her belongings and had placed the on the counter top in front of her.

"Pleasure," was his only reply. He was a lot closer to her now, occupying the stool that once separated them. His body was angled towards her, but he was still facing the counter. Tenten blinked at the progression.

When it became clear that he was neither going to move or say anything else, Tenten nearly barked at him, "Are you waiting for something?"

He turned his face towards her, his surprise only revealed by his sudden blink.

"Actually," his eyes darted around the bar. "My refills are taking an awful lot of time," he said, as if just remembering what he was actually there for.

"Yeah, sorry 'bout that," the chocolate-skinned bartender said from where she was polishing glasswares at the end of the bar. "Beer tank went dry, the other guy had to refill it."

"It'll be quick, please wait for a while," she said, placing the cocktail glass she was polishing down.

She made eye contact with Tenten, to her surprise. The bartender was saying something with her eyes when she glanced pointedly at the man beside her.

Is he bothering you? She seemed to ask.

Tenten risked a glance towards the man. He was no longer looking at her but at the kitchen door to where the other bartender seemed to have disappeared to.

She looked at the woman again, communicating with her eyes.

No, he's not. She conveyed. At least, not yet, she added as an afterthought.

The bartender appeared to have understood as she gave a nod. An unspoken promise of coming to her aid, should the need arises, was made.

She looked at the man beside her again, he was looking at his wrist watch when he noticed her attention on him.

He gave a small quirk of his lips, looking almost polite.

"Penny for your thoughts?" He repeated his earlier question.

Feeling as if she owed him at least a response, Tenten merely shrugged her shoulders.

"Nothing much."

"Didn't seem like it," he was quick to reply. Tenten raised an eyebrow at him.

"You downed that shot of tequila like there was no tomorrow. I assumed you were otherwise had something troubling your mind," he explained.

Tenten said nothing.

"Would talking about it feel cathartic?"

"Are you a therapist?" she shot back.

A look had passed over him. "No," he said. The arrogant smirk he had earlier came back full force.

"But I can, if you want me to be."

Tenten gave a deep sigh and fully turned towards the counter, preparing to leave the place, but the man still didn't seem intent on leaving her be as he placed a hand on her shoulder to stop her.

"I apologize, I didn't mean to offend you," he said.

She glared at him in response, and shrugged off his hand on her shoulder. He raised both hands in surrender.

"You looked as if you needed cheering up and I may have gone the wrong way about it. Again, I'm sorry. I'm not exactly the most adept at comforting people."

"Oh so being an asshole is actually part of your personality?" It was difficult to mistake the sarcasm in her tone. It made him chuckle, nonetheless.

"Fine, I deserved that. Anything else?" he was looking at her like he was enjoying himself.

"Personal space isn't also a thing with you, is it?" Tenten gestured to the lack of space between them as he was leaning towards her, and she was slightly leaning away from him. He actually looked surprised at that, if slightly raised eyebrows were looks of surprise, and leaned back on his stool, restoring the minimum foot of distance between the two stools. Tenten found that she could finally breathe easier now.

"Point taken. Again, apologies," he said with a small, almost polite, smile.

Tenten tilted her head, trying to examine him fully at this new angle. He seemed amused, to say the least, but she was unbothered enough to say: "You know, you actually look like a decent human being in this angle."

Almost like it was a trigger, the man leaned towards her again, close enough that she could smell the tanginess of alcohol and cologne on him. "Am I now?"

With a scowl, Tenten leaned back while pushing him away by his shoulder.

She fished for the click pen she always kept inside her bag, all the while ignoring his raised eyebrows and his little smirk that showed just how interesting he thought the whole thing was.

In a matter of seconds, she had the pen in hand, pressed the top so that the ball point shot out of the tip with a decisive click.

Amused, Neji shifted ever closer to her on the bar stool where she sat. Their shoulders brushed and she gave him a pointed look, strategically moving her body away from him and instead, she directly faced him and his leaning form.

He smirked at her and she rolled her eyes at him, reaching for an unused napkin and placing it between them on the bar's counter top.

Pen in hand, she drew something on the unused tissue.

"See this?" She said, looking up from her work and eyeing him for his -minimal- reaction.

"Is it not a circle?" He asked, sarcasm dripping off his tongue and arrogance in the tilt of his chin. She refrained the urge to release a sharp breath and instead turned again to her make-shift paper.

"That," she looked at him pointedly, "is my bubble," she said. Without looking at him, she drew another circle, the sides overlapping the first circle, making a nearly perfect Venn diagram.

"That's your bubble," her eyes found his and she was surprised with how close they were, leaning over the small piece of paper.

"And I take it that this moderately sized oval in the middle is where our common interests lie?" He said, placing an arm on the counter, his hand landing mere centimeters from her own. She refused to budge. Nonetheless, a short laugh came out of her mouth and she rolled her eyes again.

"Very funny," she said. She had the pen touch paper and proceeded to shade out the area where their supposed 'common interests' lay.

With another decisive click, the pen was closed and kept inside her bag.

"Okay, recap."

She gestured towards the first circle, "My bubble."

Pointing at the second circle, "Your bubble," she said.

"Hn."

She ignored his smirk and instead, tapped the shaded area with the tip of a manicured nail.

"And this here," she gave him a sickeningly sweet smile, "is the black hole you'd get sucked into if you ever traverse past my bubble."

She would later deny the chill that came down her spine when she heard the baritone of his laughter. Deep, low, and velvety. Delicious. It made a warmth of a different kind settle on her abdomen and she almost regretted turning him down.

Well, almost.

"Are you serious?" He asked, his face composed and she would've thought she had imagine the moment prior if not for the sly mischief that's unconcealable in his eyes.

"Quite," she said, voice even but her expression was haughty as she regarded him with a raised eyebrow, challenging him.

He smirked at her in return and her gaze was anchored to his lips where his tongue traced the flesh, making it glisten.

He reached for her hand on the table, placing his hand on top of hers.

She looked him in the eye and stared hard.

His smirk did not break at all.

How insufferable.

Was it just her or he's closer than before?

Tenten for sure didn't know, she was too lost in the lavender of his eyes, so peculiar and bottomless. The feel of his breath against her cheek, making goosebumps on her skin, the musky scent of his cologne, so intoxicating her toes curled inside her shoes. She breathed heavily when his nose touched her cheek and as he leaned closer, her eyes fluttered shut and–

"Sorry, for the long wait man. Here's your drinks."

Six tankards unceremoniously hit the hardwood in front of them, Tenten abruptly moved away from him, a curious sense of relief washing over her.

The man fished his wallet from his back pocket and gave the bartender his credit card before turning towards her standing form.

He looked at her pleasantly as if the past few minutes didn't happen. "I haven't had the pleasure of asking for your name?"

Tenten looked at him, his pale eyes, the aristocratic nose, the high cheekbones, and the muscly physique in the custom tailored suit, and all she could think was what a complete dick.

So, with a smirk of her own, "I think your friends are impatient enough as it is."

She glanced at the previously noisy group, whom was looking at their coworker curiously and albeit antsy for their free alcohol. He seemed to notice the same.

Thus, with a shake of his head and a small smile on his face, "Touché," he said.

Giving him a two-fingered salute, Tenten shouldered her bag, ignored her wobbly legs and stepped out of the classy pub and into the cold winter air.

A brief glance at the pub's windows showed the man walking back to his group, two tankards at each hand, the other two followed behind him in the hands of one of his friends. He caught her eye and gave her the smallest of nods and the tiniest smirk.

All she could do was scoff and twitchingly roll her eyes.

Without a backwards glance, she headed towards her apartment, the cold January wind already sobering her up.


When she got to her apartment, took off her shoes, and closed the door behind her, her eyes automatically sought the open letter on the coffee table. Giving out a shaky breath, she mentally scolded her sheer pathetic and headed straight to her bedroom.

Without preamble, she slammed face first onto the soft but firm mattress, uncaring of the dirty clothes she wore or the make-up still on her face, she closed her eyes.

"Tadaima," she whispered before drifting to sleep.

In the furthest corner of her mind, a male voice had answered her.

Okaeri.


A/N: OMG. I can't believe the first chapter is done. This was such a long time in coming. A year, in fact! Hopefully, the difference in writing style is indiscernible. Otherwise, tell me!

HOW WAS IT?