The dinner table was oddly silent. Void of voices, merely the sound of metal utensils scraping against ceramic plates could be heard. It wasn't necessarily an uncomfortable silence…more of a threatening one. Each person at the table was worried over something, and none could work up the guts to actually say something about it.

Kiba pushed around his mashed potatoes, building them up into a volcano, and then smashing them down into a yellow, buttery, overly-salted field of mush. Every now and then he glanced up at Nhamo, his toes curling into the soft fur of Akamaru, lying beneath the table. Her nose was red and swollen, and it had been bleeding when she'd come home…that wasn't it though. It was probably nothing, a training mishap. No, what worried him was her glazed, dreamy sort of look as she twirled her fork, and also that she hadn't eaten a bite.

Nhamo was always hungry.

Kankuro continued to pile food onto his plate. It wasn't Nhamo's silence that bothered him. He was used to her being cold towards him, either ignoring him or giving him icy glares every time he so much as breathed. What unnerved him was that he'd seen (through the window closest him, but conveniently out of Kiba's line of sight) her walking towards the house with a boy. He'd looked away, glanced back, and found her rushing up the walkway cradling a possibly broken nose.

He wasn't worried for her well-being. Kankuro was quite certain Nhamo could take care of herself; he was wondering whether or not he should mention the boy to Kiba.

Something told him that doing so would make Nhamo hate him more than she already did.

Nhamo was, of course, absorbed with alternating thoughts of Kenji and their failed kiss and the ultimate dilemma of her being completely useless as a ninja. The way she say it, she'd exhausted all possibilities. A dog familiar was out of the question, her Genjutsu techniques were fairly lame, her Taijutsu was choppy and awkward…and even though she'd gotten the chakra string technique to work (though she'd gotten pretty tangled up with trying it with more than one string per hand, she could work that out later) her aim sucked. She'd hit only one bulls eyes throughout the whole day.

And the majority of her day had been spent flinging kunai after kunai at a target.

She heaved a great sigh, picking at the slab of meat in front of her half heartedly. The whole deal with Kenji…it made her chest ache to think about it for some reason, as though she were about to heave and puke. It was kind of like nerves…but so much worse. Had he even been trying to kiss her? She flushed a bright red at the thought, dropping her fork and twisting her hands together in her lap.

If he had been trying to kiss her, he'd probably be angry that she'd messed it up. For by now Nhamo was convinced that the collision had been her fault. She hadn't known what she was doing.

In no way could she ever imagine that Kenji hadn't known what he was doing.

He always seemed to know what he was doing.

"How was your day Nhamo?" Kiba finally decided that he couldn't take the oppressive silence any longer, and therefore he broke it, speaking gently to his daughter in the kind of parental way that foretold his inability to know what to say.

Nhamo shrugged, not even bothering to look up form her plate, where she was mixing the majority of her food together to form a kind of undesirable slop, pushing it around on her plate, molding it like clay.

Kiba had no response to this, his throat constricted as he wracked his mind for what to say, but only managing to mentally curse over and over. This was the kind of thing he needed a woman around for! He knew Nhamo was getting near …"that" age, and just because he was gay didn't mean he knew how to handle female puberty.

It had been bad enough when he'd had to buy her bras. The sex talk had been fine, but that had been when she was eight, she hadn't been mature enough to be embarrassed.

"Did…anything interesting happen?"

By now Kankuro was listening intently, though he attempted to mask it by continuing to eat. He wondered if Nhamo would mention the boy…he couldn't help but find himself curious about it.

"Yes!" Kiba jumped at the sudden outburst from a previously mellow Nhamo. Kankuro managed to choke on the milk he'd just drank, spitting it back up into his cup. Nhamo was now grinning lopsidedly.

"Watch!" She stood, chair screeching backwards as she picked up her unused steak knife, testing the heft briefly before bulleting it into the opposite wall. Kankuro and Kiba exchanged raised brows, looking back at the girl.

"Wait…" Kankuro's eyes narrowed, and then widened and he couldn't help but smile as he watched the incredibly thin line of blue light that stretched from the hilt of the knife to Nhamo's hand. She curled her fingers around it and tugged, bringing the knife back towards her, where she caught it easily, beaming.

Kenji's dinner was as silent as Nhamo's had been, but for different reasons. His father demanded serenity, calm, all of that, at his dinner table. Something about digestion. Kenji took this opportunity to watch his parents. He'd once heard that more successful marriages happened between shinobi and non-shinobi than between two shinobi. His parents were a prime example of this. Most of his dual-shinobi parented peers had domestic problems; Malvika's problems with her father, Shikago constantly torn between Sand and Leaf, and Choni, whose parents sent mixed messages about weight, appearance, and over all attitude.

Kenji turned his chopsticks over between his fingers, picking through his rice. His father was a ninja, an ANBU, his mask resting on a hook nailed into the wall not far off. His mother was just that; a home-maker. She was a small, slender woman with a gentle face and mild (meaning none whatsoever) personality. She was like a glass doll.

Nhamo wasn't a glass doll.

His brow furrowed as he chewed slowly. Nhamo was the most unfeminine girl he knew, when it came to demeanor and actions, and that was part of what intrigued him about her. How she could be so confident in herself, but not at all confident in her abilities…it shouldn't work like that.

"Uchiha Malvika! Come out of your room this instant!"

Sasuke's voice thundered on the other side of her door. Malvika attempted to ignore this, burying her head beneath her pillow, breathing in the heavy, musky scent of bed sheets that hadn't been changed in ages. She mumbled something against her mattress, knowing that he wouldn't be able to hear her, but not really caring very much.

"Damn it child! If you do not out of there in the next fifteen seconds I will break this door down!"

"I dare you!"

She had sat up quite suddenly, blonde hair sticking out in all directions, blue eyes wide, her voice ripping from her throat without her control, "I fucking dare you old man."

There was a loud crash, the crack of splitting wood and the door flew in, ripped to bits by a level kick from Sasuke, whose face was coated with fury. Quickly he strode to the bed where, instead of shrinking away in fear as she normal would, Malvika sat upright, staring back at him with purely defiantly black eyes, though something strange seemed to be happening. And Sasuke knew exactly what it was.

He took the child by the collar of her jacket, shaking her violently, his face mere inches from hers, Sharingan very suddenly spinning into existence.

"I know that voice." He hissed, staring at her, spit flying from his mouth. She grinned in a malicious way, sharpened canines making in appearance, "Get OUT of my daughter you stupid fox!"

"You wouldn't dare hurt me." Came the Kyuubi's response in Mal's voice. Her emotion…the sadness that had corrupted her soul made it possibly for the Kyuubi's being to trickle through her body. It had happened before, once or twice, when Malvika was so overcome with emotion that she couldn't control what lurked inside her own mind.

"Wouldn't I?" Sasuke asked, fingers curling against his palm to form a fist, still gripping Malvika's collar tightly, "If I kill her, you die too."

"Killing your own? My, my, you are Uchiha Itachi's brother." The Kyuubi replied smoothly, deftly slipping away, leaving Malvika to fall limply against her father, breathing slowing to a regular pace, fingers instinctively curling to grip Sasuke's sleeve. The man sighed in relief, grinning wryly, stroking his daughter's hair gently. The Kyuubi hadn't called his bluff. Good.

"Nice." A voice spoke rather coolly from the doorway; Sasuke glanced over his shoulder at Naruto, and frowned lightly.

"What?"

"You should've let me handle it." Naruto's voice was icy, his gaze fierce, unforgiving.

"You're still mad for what happened to her." Sasuke observed dryly, upper lip curling slightly, "I apologized, damn it."

"You apologized to me."

"Right." Sasuke sighed, settling himself into a sitting position, perched on Mal's bed. Her grip on his sleeve remained; her head and shoulders resting on his lap, he continued to gently brush blonde back from her forehead. She mumbled something, still asleep. "Sorry Mal." Sasuke finally muttered, leaning forward to brush his lips against her forehead before peering through his dark bangs at his husband, "Happy?"

Naruto simply smirked.

"Now that." Kiba grinned widely, pointing towards a vase that rested atop the coffee table. Nhamo was more than happy to oblige, flicking her fingers in a now well practiced way, soon adding the vase to the miscellaneous collection of junk near her feet. They'd long ago retired to the living room, Nhamo standing in front of the couch, where Kiba lounged. Kankuro had earlier excused himself from dinner, disappearing into Kiba's room for an extended amount of time. Not that the girl really cared. This was perfect, she was demonstrating her new ability to an obviously impressed father, who was sure to punctuate each triumph she had with a loud 'whoop' and a round of applause, during which Nhamo would bow.

"I have to say Nhamo, this is kind of funny." Kiba grinned wolfishly, lacing his fingers together behind his head and leaning back into the cushion of the couch.

"What about it's funny?" Nhamo asked, experimenting with three strings from each hand, causing objects to dance about her feet at her whim. It was a sort of sick pleasure to be able to control the things. She liked it.

"I think I know." Kankuro now stood at the doorway, holding a bundle of something in his arms. Nhamo didn't even look at him. She'd perfecting the art of ignoring the man. There was a brief pause before Kankuro sighed, "I have something for you Nhamo."

Both Kiba and Nhamo stared at him with identical looks of surprise.

"On one condition." He hastily added, and Nhamo scowled, allowing her captives to drop to the ground as she folded her arms over her chest, "Two conditions actually. You have to promise to take good care of it." Nhamo rolled her eyes, "And you have to start talking to me."

The silence stretched, Kiba smirked at his daughter, who was scowling. Her naturally curious and slightly greedy nature was combating her stubbornness. He was quite interested to see which would win. Finally she sighed.

"Fine. Whatever. What is it?"

Kankuro grinned, joining Kiba on the couch, pulling the bundle apart to reveal a lifeless…puppet, "This is Karasu. He's one of several puppets I use to fight with." He noticed the confusion etched across Nhamo's face and smile. At least the hostility was gone, "See, I use chakra strings to control him. I can teach you all about it. He's old, but still one of my favorites." He paused, stroking Karasu's theoretically wooden surface, "What do you say? Kiba tells me you don't have a specialty yet. Generally the puppet armies are a Suna thing. But I think we can make an exception."

Nhamo stood for a moment, staring at the puppet. And then, quite suddenly, she smiled, falling forward to hug Kankuro tightly about the neck, "ThankyouThankyouThankyou!" She breathed against his neck, squeezing him tightly. Kankuro appeared rather frightened for a moment, the possibility that she was trying to strangle him crossing his mind before he smiled, patting her awkwardly on the back.

"You're welcome. Come on; let's go out back, I'll teach you all about him."

Kiba smiled knowingly as Kankuro, hand on Nhamo's shoulder, led the girl outside.

"Mother?"

Dinner was long over, and Kenji found his mother in the kitchen, dutifully putting away clean dishes. Her dark hair was secured back in a practical braid, her understanding eyes immediately seeing the stress on her son's face. Wiping her hands with a towel, Keiko smiled gently, "Yes Kenji?"

The Hyuuga shifted a bit, brushing his fingers through his own long hair, "Erm…there's this girl…and…what's a good kind of 'I'm sorry present' for a girl?"

Keiko raised an eyebrow, leaning against the kitchen table, folding her arms over her stomach, "Depends on what you're sorry for." Kenji shifted uncomfortably and her eyes narrowed, "What did you do Kenji? I hope you didn't hurt this girl's feelings."

"Erm…I might have broken her nose." He replied, obviously embarrassed, gaze drawn to the floor, which was suddenly extremely interesting. He didn't catch the obviously surprised expression his mother had taken on.

"Training?"

"No…" More shifting, and finally, a confession, "I tried to kiss her, alright? And I didn't know how, and we kind of…collided. I don't think she even wanted to kiss me…and I just want her to know I'm sorry." And he really didn't want for her to be angry. As lovable and kind as she was when happy…when angry she was enough to make small children, as well as some older ones, wet themselves.

There was a brief pause before Kenji scowled as his mother, who had suddenly begun shaking with a violent burst of laughter.

"Roku-kun, what are you doing in there?"

Malvika hid a yawn, knocking softly on her brother's door. She was decked out in over-large pajamas, eyes only half-open. She was exhausted, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't drown out the rustling and creaking noises coming from her brother's room.

"Nothing." Was his soft reply as there was more rustling, and the sound of pages turning in a book, "Go back to bed."

"Look Roku, if your jerking off, just tell me so I can go to sleep in peace." She replied, not really thinking about was she was saying, yawning once more, scratching the back of her head. To her surprise the door suddenly snapped open and she found herself face to face with an angered Roku, his Sharingan connecting with her dazed eyes. His eyes were tired though, dark shadows lining them.

"Fuck off Mal. I'm actually learning something."

"Whatever." She replied, obviously not impressed, "Well, I have to explain Kyuubi to Choni and Shikago tomorrow and hope they understand and don't run screaming like little girls." She replied, quirking a brow. Roku's eyes darted across her face before he sighed, eyes dulling to onyx.

"Fine." He mumbled, "I'll keep it down."

"Thanks." She replied, grinning leaning forward to kiss her brother's cheek, "Good night Roku."

"Good night." He muttered as she turned to walk back down the hallways a few paces to her own room, "Hey Mal?" He called after her, and she paused, turning back towards him, "You're my best friend. You know that, right?" She smiled.

"I was beginning to wonder. But yeah, I know."

He nodded and she returned the gesture, slipping into her room. Roku retreated back into his own, running his fingers through his hair, leaning against his door as it closed.

"I'm sorry Malvika." He whispered beneath his breath, eyes darting briefly to the diary of Itachi, "But I'm going to need the Mangekyou."