Third Meeting

Things did change, even if vending machines in train stations did not. Old stores had closed and new ones had taken their place, leaving Shikamaru very confused when he stepped out into the sunlight, only to be pummeled with rain.

"Great," he mumbled darkly, staring at the clouds that had gathered above. "Just great. Why don't you send down some lightening while you're at it?"

A flash of light filled the sky, thunder following a few seconds later.

Life could not get any worse.

He started for the corner, intent on finding his way around a city he'd once fancied himself familiar with. Then, just as the light turned green, signaling he could walk, he felt the back of his knees give and fell to the ground.

"This is all your fault!"

He rolled over on the pavement to find himself staring up into eyes he thought he'd left back in the station. The woman hovered over him, her features contorted in anger, a snarl pulling her lips back to reveal a row of brilliantly white teeth. She was soaked from head to toe, the white shirt she wore revealing far more than Shikamaru wanted to see.

"The train's left! Now get up and find a way to get me to the next station, or so help me, I will get you closer to your death wish."

"How is this my fault?"

She growled. "The one time I decide to be a caring, good citizen and check to make sure you were alright and going to make it back on the train, Life decides it doesn't give a fuck and makes the train leave. That's why."

"No one told you to check up on me. This is your own fault."

The woman wiped the back of her hand across her forehead. "I don't give a fuck if it's the fucking pope's fault, you are getting me to the station in Osaka."

Shikamaru struggled to his feet, wincing at the pain caused by hitting the cement. He ignored the woman's glaring and took one look at his watch before grabbing her hand and pulling her down the street. He spotted a cab and ran for it, pulling the woman along, her distaste evident in the string of curses that spewed out of her mouth.

Reaching the cab, he wrenched the door open and forced her inside, ignoring the driver's exclaims against their wet nature. He moved in beside her and directed the taxi forward.

The taxi did not move. Instead, the driver took out a set of prayer beads and began a steady chant.

"No," the woman said. She tapped the driver on his shoulder, interrupting him mid-chant. The man looked at her in his rearview mirror and shook his beads, starting his prayer again. She plucked them right out of his hands and pointed at the wheel. "Drive," she ordered.

The man sighed, started the car, and began to drive.

At 20 miles per hour.

Shikamaru could feel the woman shaking beside him. It was either because she was finally starting to feel the cold from the rain or because she was just about ready to punch the driver.

"What are you doing?" she screeched, startling the driver.

The driver did not look at her as he answered, "Driving!"

"I can walk backwards faster than this. Hurry up! I have a train to catch!"

"You won't catch the train," the driver said simply, speeding up to 22 miles.

The woman was fuming; her hair, which had been lying flat due to the water, was standing on end, infused with anger. Shikamaru was sure it was sending out electricity and that tendrils of smoke were rising out of her nose. And had her eyes just turned red?

Holy shit, he was sitting next to the Anti-Christ.

"Stop the car," he ordered.

The driver looked back at him. "What?"

"Just stop the car."

They pulled up to the sidewalk. Shikamaru got out, went around the car, and opened the driver's seat, stepping in and forcing the driver to tumble into the passenger's seat.

"Sir, what're you—"

"We're going to catch that train."

The woman leaned back, a smirk on her face just as Shikamaru pressed on the gas pedal and sped down the street, way above the speed limit. The driver beside him, with his once-handsome face lined with wrinkles, was trembling in his seat, holding on to the handle above the window for dear life.

Street after street flew past them until they were on the highway, racing at a speed that was sure to get them thrown into jail without a moment's hesitation. Without a cop in sight, it finally seemed as things were starting to look up.

It was luck that made them get to Osaka in a short amount of time. Shikamaru slid into a parking spot in front of the station and jumped out, the woman quickly following suit, ignoring the calls of the taxi driver who demanded his fare. They ran up the steps and into the building, coming to a halt when they saw the train was waiting patiently at the platform.

"Oh, that's good," the woman said, clearly relieved, her breathing only slightly irregular.

Shikamaru was about to respond when a hand pulled him down from his collar. The driver glared at him, anger twisting his mouth.

"Give me my money, you sneaky—"

"Here," Shikamaru said, reaching for his wallet and taking out a few bills.

"Give me that," the woman said, plucking a few hundred yen out of his hand. "I'm thirsty and my wallet is with my things. Thanks." She waltzed away, the smirk she had on the car still permanently glued to her face.

Shikamaru sighed and reached for more money, stuffing it into the small hands of the driver. "Sorry."

The driver harrumphed and let him go to count the money. Shikamaru took the chance to walk away and settle on a bench, content to get both greedy, religious driver and maddening woman away from him.

When he heard the train start again, Shikamaru released a sigh he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He leaned further back into his seat, at peace for the first time that day. It was already late, and if he left soon, he could catch a local train to Nara.

That's when he heard it.

"ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?"

It was so startling, Shikamaru had to look around to find the source, although he had a sneaking suspicion of who had said it (her voice was just so distinct and hard to ignore). Finding the woman from the train standing at one end of the platform, hands in the air, and a departing train just leaving the station, Shikamaru felt every good feeling drain out of his body and disappear into the air.

"This is absolutely ridiculous! I turn around for one fucking second to buy water—this son of a bitch tries to sell me a bottle for six hundred yen—" at this, she pointed accusingly at a store owner who looked sheepishly away, trying to hide behind his magazine stand, "—and the fucking train leaves? Unbelievable!"

A station attendant walked up cautiously to the woman, who was still wet and definitely cold, judging from her chest area that Shikmaru just couldn't help but notice.

"Ma'am—"

"I'm twenty-six years old, I'm not a fucking 'ma'am!'"

"Miss," the lady corrected herself, "is there a problem?"

The woman was as red as a tomato, convincing Shikamaru she was part fruit and that was why she looked somewhat foreign. "No, I just scream and yell at shit when I'm giddy as fuck. Yes, I have a fucking problem. I'm supposed to be on that train that just left and all my stuff is on there!"

The lady bowed her head in apology. "I'm terribly sorry for the trouble. I will go ahead and phone the conductor and ask for him to remove your things and leave them in the next station in Hiroshima."

"No."

"Excuse me?"

Shikamaru had no idea why he grinned at this. He'd known the woman for a grand total of a few hours, didn't know her name, was almost positive she was everything he should avoid in a human, and he was somehow mildly entertained by the fact that he knew what kind of person she was. It came as no surprise that she was not thrilled with the situation and that she was going to let the station attendant know just how un-thrilled she was.

"I said no. I want you to phone the conductor and tell him to send my luggage on a train that's coming back to Osaka. I'll be here til the morning and I expect my things to be right fucking here bright and fucking early."

The lady looked uncomfortable as she nodded. Shikamaru almost laughed. "Is there a number where I can reach you?"

The woman scowled and thought for a moment, forefinger resting on her lower lip. Her eyes searched the station and found his. Cursing his luck, he slid down his seat, hoping she hadn't actually noticed him.

A few seconds later, he heard her voice, "Yo, what's your number?"

He tilted his head to see her standing over the chair. "What?"

"What's your phone number?"

Shikamaru was silent. There was no way he was going to give his number away, but looking at her again, he figured he had absolutely no say in the matter.

He told the station lady, who jotted it down diligently and nodded. "Thank you," she said, and turned back to the woman. "I'll have your things here for you tomorrow. What's your name?"

"Temari. Great." The woman looked at Shikamaru pointedly. "Well, don't just sit there. Let's go."

He had no way of explaining the panic that crept into his voice, "Where are we going?"

"We're going to a hotel. You've suddenly earned yourself the privilege of accompanying me to Fukuoka."

Truly, there were no good forces in the world, for if there were, Shikamaru would not be in such a situation, and with such a woman at that.


"We are not staying here."

Shikamaru did not bother to look at her as he started up the stairs. He'd stopped at a love hotel, sign bright and neon and as vulgar as the establishment proclaimed itself reading Heavenly Kiss. Although the building itself was plain and inconspicuous, there was no kidding himself on what would be waiting inside. "Yes, we are. I'm the one with the money."

"You little—"

"Women should not indulge in such language. It's unbecoming."

He didn't get to find out if Temari, as she was called, was readying herself for a retort because at that moment, he opened the front door and stepped inside.

The lobby was almost completely empty, save for a panel where a selection of rooms could be found. A black-and-white sign with rates stood by a counter with a machine.

"I don't know you, but I hate you," Temari muttered darkly, standing near him. "Hate."

He ignored her as he read the rates, trying to decide. Judging by his watch, they had only a few more hours left before they'd have to make their way back to the station and claim Temari's things. By the hour seemed perfectly alright—

"Sorry dude, but the machines are all broken."

Both Shikamaru and Temari turned to see a young man holding a CLOSED sign. "I'm gonna close for tonight but you guys are welcome to pick a room and pay me and I'll get you a key."

"No, thank you," Temari said quickly, heading for the door.

"What she means is yes, we'll take whatever room." Shikamaru pulled her back by the shirt, the material stretching under his hands. She punched him in the arm, making him wince, as the stranger looked on with amusement.

"Alright. What do you need?"

"Just a few hours."

The stranger smirked, misinterpreting his words. Not that Shikamaru minded; in all honesty, he could hardly bring himself to care.

"Wipe that grin off your face," Temari said. "It's not like that."

"Sure. It's cool. I understand it's awkward, doing this face to face. Usually doesn't happen."

"Pervert." She moved away to wait by the stairs, her smirk having been fully replaced by a scowl that made a tiny little line form between her brows.

The man showed his teeth as he handed Shikamaru his change. "She's hot."

"Is she?" He looked over at Temari, who rolled her eyes and concentrated on the ceiling. Attractive, for sure. She was one of those girls who were easily labeled hot but hardly ever labeled pretty. The complete opposite of Ino. Ino was beautiful, but this girl oozed sex appeal, especially in a still-damp shirt. "She is."

Handing him a key, the man nodded. "Natural blonde?"

"We'll see," Shikamaru whispered.

"Stop whispering about me and let's go. I want to sleep."

He bid his farewell and went after Temari, handing her the key to the room. "Ready?"

"I liked you better when you were mute."

"I thought I was stupid."

"You were both. And deaf."

When he turned the key and opened the door, the red and pink overwhelmed him immediately. He felt as if he'd walked into a gothic elementary school girl's room, the touches of black drowning the room in a dark glow. Or maybe it was the light, which was bright enough to allow people to walk around without bumping into something, but not bright enough to tell whether a woman was a natural blonde.

It was an unusually large room, and while he had no prior experience of love hotel rooms, after setting sight on this one, he was positive he never wanted to experience another love hotel room, period. Hello Kitty in bondage seemed to be the theme of this particular suite, images of the "innocent" kitty plastered over every wall. Even the lamp had the cartoon character assuming a most questionable position.

Temari flopped onto the bed without any hesitation. She spread her arms and breathed, ignoring Shikamaru completely as he stood at the doorway thoroughly disturbed by everything, especially the heart-shaped, velvet drenched bed.

"I'll take the bed," she declared as she rolled over onto her stomach.

He snorted as he sat on one of the chairs, trying very hard not to think about all the things the chair had seen (and participated in) since being put into the room. He watched as she propped herself on one elbow, hair threatening to burst from her ponytail. She raised an eyebrow and lowered the sleeve of her shirt to expose a bare shoulder.

"I know karate," she warned.

It took a lot of self-control to keep from laughing outright. "What does that mean?"

She sat up, shrugged. "Nothing. I'm just saying, I know karate."

"I'm not going to rape you."

"You couldn't, even if you wanted to."

"Trust me, I don't."

"Even if you did, you couldn't."

Oh, for the love of all that was good. He stood, fetched his wallet, and pulled out Ino's picture which he'd kept since their high school graduation. Stomping up to the side of the bed Temari occupied, he flashed it before her, waving it just for good measure.

"See that? She's why I wouldn't want to, ever."

Temari's mouth puckered as her nimble fingers took the picture out of his hands and observed it closer. "Wow, she's extremely pretty." She frowned a moment later, tilting the picture to catch the light. "Too pale and skinny, from what I can tell, though. Skinny girls aren't very attractive—nothing to hold when fucking, you know?"

He knew he was blushing. He felt all the heat rush to his face, flooding him a deep red he was sure she was going to point out and make fun of him for. "She's perfectly fine the way she is."

"Your girlfriend?"

What could he say? She was most definitely not his girlfriend. And if he said she wasn't, the scary woman would just question how much of a creep he was for having a girl's picture in his wallet.

"No." He threw the picture on the night table, light catching on the glossy surface, making Ino's smile look as if it were sparkling. "It doesn't matter."

Temari's eyebrows shot up, disappearing into the blunt bangs that covered her forehead. "Oh my God, she's the reason! She dumped you."

"She didn't dump me," he spat back.

"You weren't even in the running? That's even more pathetic."

"She married my best friend."

Temari was silent. It was a good look on her. He wished she'd stay that way forever.

Shikamaru sat back in his chair, head resting on the edge, staring up at the grungy ceiling. Not very romantic for a sex room and even less comfortable for a bedroom. Still, it would have to do. He wanted to go to sleep, wish the entire day away, and hope that when he woke, he'd be in his lavish apartment in Tokyo, doing nothing, Ino's wedding still too far away—or better, not in the picture at all.

He didn't want to think about Ino, actually. He wanted to forget. Forget her wedding, forget the last few years of his life spent pining away after a woman who was in love with someone else.

"Why are you wallowing?"

He opened one eye to see Temari standing on the bed, staring right at him, scowl on her face. In the few seconds it had taken him to fall back into terrible despair, she had unwound her hair, which looked surprisingly sleek as it gathered around her shoulders and framed her face very nicely, softening the harsh edges of her angular face.

"What?"

"Why are you sitting there, feeling sorry for yourself?"

"Did you not hear me? I said that she married my best friend."

"Is she dead?"

"What? No—"

She jumped down and stomped her way up to him. "Then stop wallowing. Stop grieving. She's just a woman. Not even that attractive." She glanced at the picture. "Okay, she's extremely attractive. But way too skinny. Trust me, you want a woman with curves. And she doesn't look like she has any."

"Look—"

"Stop acting like a baby. Look at yourself. You're a mess."

"Who the fuck—"

She grabbed his arm and pulled him up with a force he would have never suspected her of having. Then again, he shouldn't have been surprised. Everything about her reeked "badass" and "trouble." She took his face in her hands and led him to the floor length mirror by the door.

"Look at you. You're a decently attractive man who's like, in high school?"

"I'm twenty-three."

"You haven't even reached twenty-five yet. You've got your whole life ahead of you. Why are you sitting here, crying your little eyes out for a girl you never even had? There are plenty more fish in the sea. Fuck fish, there is plenty of other shit in the sea if you don't want fish. Plastic bottles, seaweed, sunken treasure. Have your fucking pick."

"Is this supposed to make me feel better? Because it isn't working."

She left him for a moment to retrieve the picture from the night table. She handed it to him. "Burn it."

"What?"

"You really are deaf. I said, burn it. Get rid of the picture. Holding on to it will only make you more miserable."

"You don't know what you're talking about."

Temari's eyes—he'd never known someone to have such green eyes—bore straight into his and held him in place with her stare. "Fine," she said, moving away from him, back to the bed she had claimed in her name. "Have it your way. Be miserable. But don't sit here in my space and fill it with your negativity. I can only handle my own pessimism." She threw herself down, drew the covers around her, and turned away from him.

He stared at the lump that was her figure for a long time. Glancing down, he saw he still held Ino's picture, a perfect grin reflecting right back at him, a grin that had never, not once, been for him. Suddenly, full of determination, he went into the bathroom, rummaged for the lighter in his pocket, found it, and set the picture ablaze. With some fascination, he watched as the edges melted away, before throwing it into the sink to burn.

When he came out, Temari's eyes were open. She lifted an eyebrow.

"Feel better?"

"Yeah."

She shrugged, the movement awkward, and closed her eyes. "Told you. What's your name, anyway? You know mine."

"Shikamaru."

"Good night, Shikamaru. And I swear: try anything, and I will fucking break your neck."

He knew she was telling the truth.

When he took his seat again, he sat back and let sleep take him, the ache in his heart lifting just a bit.


AN: Hey everyone! Sorry for such a late update. I'm back at school so I just got time to finish this chapter up and edit it. Please, please, PLEASE review! You have no idea how much it gets me going. And please read my other story, How the Prince Met the Girl.

I apologize for the shameless tooting!

Be back soon with another update! And thank you everyone for your continuous support!