Ninth Meeting
Their favorite barbecue place was located only a block away from the office, hidden below some stairs. Only those who frequented the area knew about the place, its existence hidden behind a giant advertisement that read "Grand Open 50%-30%!" in large, black letters that had been there since the mall opened three years prior. Shikamaru was sure it was illegal to have a highly flammable restaurant in the basement of a giant shopping center, but the food was delicious enough for him to forget sometimes.
The restaurant was small and familiar; they'd been going there since their high school days when they'd been first introduced to it by their favorite teacher, Asuma, before and after (and sometimes during) Ino's various diets, even for Chouji's bachelor party, which consisted mainly of drinking and eating as much barbecued meat as possible. It held a lot of memories for Shikamaru, warm moments from a time when he was still young and stupid and the only thing that mattered besides spending time with his friends was trying to graduate from school.
When Shikamaru turned to look back at Temari, she didn't seem too impressed with her mouth pressed into a thin line. Not that he cared. He wasn't trying to impress the girl. No. He was only mildly concerned that she wouldn't enjoy the food, that she'd be disappointed—
He shook himself and made it a point to glare at her, which earned him a scowl in return.
The interior was just as Shikamaru remembered; wooden furnishings, metal contraptions hanging overhead to filter out the smoke from the barbecue booths along the walls, rickety old benches, and young university student workers. The menus were still painted on the walls—though the prices were up a few hundred yen—and Shikamaru felt like he was back in high school, treating his friends out to an after school snack. Ino would always sit beside him as Chouji took up the other side of the booth, insisting he needed all the space he could get in order to truly enjoy the feast.
Shikamaru slid into his usual seat, Chouji doing the same across from him. Temari stood by and considered her options before sighing in defeat as she settled beside Shikamaru.
Temari and he were silent, awkwardly looking elsewhere instead of at each other. Temari glanced around the restaurant trying to figure out what she would order. Shikamaru pretended to consider a few of the yakitori specials despite knowin it would be Chouji's choice in the end. He peeked at the blonde girl from the corner of his eyes and found himself almost smiling.
Chouji was staring at Temari and Shikamaru couldn't fail to notice. A worry line formed between the man's dark red eyebrows, a finger scratching his chin in contemplation.
Temari must have felt the gaze because she shifted in her seat and cocked her head in question. "Yes?"
"You look really familiar," Chouji began. He shook his head. "I just can't place where I've seen you before."
She shrugged and went back to deciding her dish, giving Shikamaru the chance to observe her without being accused of being in love.
Now that Chouji said it, she did look familiar. There was something about the set of her jaw, the color of her eyes, and he was sure he couldn't forget such a glimpse of her cleavage. He'd seen her before; he was sure of it.
"Did you go to Tokyo U?" Shikamaru asked her.
She shook her head. A smirk was pulling at the corner of her lips, completing her image of a self-satisfied woman. "Kansai."
He placed his hands on the table and drummed a rhythm with his long fingers but still the memory didn't come to him. It was going to bug him forever until he figured it out.
Chouji seemed to have moved on from the interrogation, yelling an "Excuse me!" to one of the waitresses as she hurried past them. When the woman returned to their table, the redhead quickly rattled off his choice of meats.
With their order gone to the back kitchen Chouji turned to his friend. "I suppose you don't want to spend the night at our place, right? I know Ino would want to see you—"
"No thanks," Shikamaru cut in. "No offense, but that might not be the greatest idea right now."
Temari was watching between them, her fingers running along the edge of the dark table following a long streak of damaged wood. But she didn't say anything and Shikamaru couldn't help but release a sigh of relief. He had to give it to her: she might have been the most positively annoying woman on the face of the planet, but at the very least, she was perceptive.
Thankfully, it didn't take long for the first plate of meat to arrive, followed by a mountain of lettuce, side dishes, and bowls of rice. Chouji set straight to work, using metal tongs to place the meat on the sizzling grill in the middle of the table, throwing some slices of onion on the side.
"So why Fukuoka?" Chouji asked, probably in an effort to distract himself from the cooking meat. He was ever so impatient at the sight of food, and there was nothing more frustrating for him than sizzling meat still too raw to consume.
"My brothers live there," Temari answered.
Chouji was momentarily unavailable as he flipped the meat to get both sides cooked to medium-rare perfection, so Shikamaru took the mantle of interrogator.
"What do they do?" To be honest, Shikamaru couldn't believe it had taken him so long to ask.
She placed a grain of rice on her tongue and he watched it disappear into her mouth, transfixed. He had to mentally kick himself to stop staring when she said, "They work at a company."
"What company?"
Another grain of rice. The pinkness of her tongue almost made all the blood in his body rush to his face. "Suna Enterprises."
He whistled. Suna Enterprises was one of Nara Inc.'s competitions and was controlled by a man with offices all over the world. He'd heard from his old man that the president was ruthless, that getting a job at Suna Enterprises held the same prestige as snagging a job any Fortune 500 company. Being Nara Inc.'s future president, Shikamaru had read up on all the other family-owned powerhouses in Japan, but there was very little he could remember about Suna Enterprises. It was an enigma, even in the business hemisphere of the Japanese world.
Well, now he was sure that she had never worked for his family. But he still couldn't shake off the feeling that he knew her. The familiarity of her eyes, the cockiness in the tilt of her head, the overconfident smile. He felt like he recognized them all.
Shikamaru was interrupted by Chouji's loud, "Finally!" The three then ate in silence, although it was occasionally punctuated by the sounds of Chouji's smacking lips and slurps of melon soda.
It was a little strange, sitting across his now-married best friend. He felt oddly at peace and comfortable in that moment, even though there was a perfect stranger sharing it with them. He'd been rather bitter about the whole marriage since the engagement, resentment bubbling in his stomach, hatred settling in his veins. Not that he really hated Chouji, or even Ino, because he couldn't. But now, as he used his chopsticks to place the last piece of beef in Chouji's empty rice bowl, he knew that things would return to the way they were and that he could honestly say he was happy for his friends.
After Chouji paid the bill the three of them stood outside in the shade of the large shopping mall. Temari smoothed her skirt across her legs as Chouji and Shikamaru hovered a little away, their voices low.
"You sure I can't convince you to stay with us?" Chouji placed a large hand on Shikamaru's shoulder and squeezed.
"I'm alright, don't worry about me."
Chouji nodded. "That won't convince Ino, though."
"Tell her I'm happy for her. For both of you."
They parted ways, Chouji holding on for a moment longer than what was probably deemed socially acceptable. But Shikamaru didn't mind at all. When they parted, Chouji gave Temari a deep bow before turning away and walking back to Nara Inc.'s headquarters.
Shikamaru led the way to one of the only hotels he knew, geared towards foreign businessmen and women that frequented the area. Temari followed him easily, falling into step with him, ignoring the glares they received from other businessmen due to Temari's luggage taking up quite a bit of the sidewalk.
It wasn't until he passed by a convenience store window that he stopped. A man, eating his cup of instant noodles, was reading a magazine with a very interesting cover.
"What is it?" Temari asked. He could feel her glare at the back of his head but the words failed him.
Because there she was, right smack dab on the cover of a magazine. Glaring right back at him, clad in a dark blue suit beside two other boys dressed just like her. She looked a little younger, her hair a little shorter, her eyes more guarded. There was another picture of a man placed directly beside hers, with his blonde hair gelled back against his head and a frightening smile on his face.
"Suna Enterprises' Sabaku Temari to Wed Weapons Genius Hidan—Japanese Business Takes Over the World" read the headline, and Shikamaru almost banged his head against the glass in realization of his stupidity.
"What are you even looking at?" Temari asked. In their reflection he could see her head trying to peek over his shoulder. He would have laughed if he could but he was still too stunned to say a word.
He turned. Temari took a few steps back, staring at him expectantly.
"You're Sabaku Temari."
She rolled her eyes. "I know."
"You're the Sabaku Temari. From Suna Enterprises."
Her eyes widened slightly, the only indication that she was surprised. "What's your point?"
"You should have said something! You knew all along who I was!"
"You should have asked," she accused. "And I didn't know all along—just after your pathetic attempt at suicide."
"And you're getting married." He wasn't even sure why he was so upset, so insulted. Maybe it was a pride thing. He thought he was a pretty clever man. He knew that, because he had a MENSA certificate sitting in his room back at his parents' house that proved it. But it took him—what, four days?—to figure out that the woman he was traveling with was the infamous daughter of one of Japanese business's most successful entrepreneurs.
He stared at her as if he'd never really seen her before. Which he didn't, he supposed, because he'd been too wrapped up in his own self-pity to notice her. But now that he looked at her, really looked at her, he could see the poise with which she held herself, the strength in her voice, the smugness of her upturned nose. She'd been trained by her father, and he'd trained her well.
"Come on," she ordered, taking his wrist in her only free hand. "Let's talk."
They sat in an abandoned school bus. The sun had set as he followed Temari blindly through Osaka before they came to a deserted field of old school buses. With a strength he was surprised to find she possessed, she chucked her suitcase over a fence before climbing after it, her nimble body only slightly hindered by her tiny skirt. He was lucky she didn't catch him looking as she swung one leg over the other side and gracefully leaped for the ground. He'd followed after her, groaning about how troublesome it was to trespass abandoned fields, but she didn't seem to listen to him as she found a school bus and pried the door open.
And there they were, sitting on opposite seats, her legs aglow in the moonlight filtering through the grimy windows. She watched him carefully as he shifted uncomfortably under her scrutiny.
"I'm going to Fukuoka to meet Hidan," she began.
"You've never met him?"
She shrugged. "I mean, I'm sure we've met sometime. Some ball or something, maybe."
He narrowed his eyes at her. "Have we ever met before?"
"No." He knew she wasn't lying because she said it easily, airily, as if she'd thought about the possibility before.
"Then why are you marrying him?"
She suddenly couldn't look at him. She turned to face the back of the seat in front of her. There were a bunch of inked marking etched on the ripped leather. "My father suggested I should."
He scoffed. "I thought arranged marriages didn't happen anymore."
She looked at him pointedly. "Business transactions still do."
He didn't say anything. She was right. Marriages were nothing but contracts between two people, and arranged marriages nothing but contracts between two families. There was probably a good reason for her to sign her life away. Maybe Suna Enterprises was going bankrupt. Maybe it was Janshin Weapons. Maybe both companies had an intention to control every competitive market they could. Maybe not.
Temari looked out the window, the outline of her face illuminated by the pale light of the moon. Her nose sloped down delicately, her blonde hair appeared almost white, and her puckered lips seemed to greet the coming night.
He wanted to touch her. It was the most illogical thing he had ever felt and yet the impulse was stronger than he could bear. He wanted his fingers to run through her hair; he wanted his lips to touch her skin; he wanted her body to give beneath his.
"You want to kiss me, don't you?" She startled him out of his musings, watching him from the corner of her eyes.
"Do you read minds, now?"
She shrugged. "I don't have to read your mind to know. It's written all over your face."
He mentally took note to rearrange his features the next time she blinked. "Well, I don't."
Temari stared out the window, towards where Hidan would be waiting for his future bride. "I would let you, you know."
Shikamaru gulped, her words ringing in his ears. He watched her, waiting for her to move, to laugh, to wave the words away with her hands and say, "It was a joke." But there was nothing, only an expectant silence.
He needed no other incentive. He crawled out of his seat and propped his knee on her leather-covered bench, pausing only to see if she would react. But she waited patiently, eyes still gazing out into the night. Carefully, he took her face in his hands, long fingers cupping her chin as he turned her. She followed him willingly, eyes downcast, dark blonde lashes resting against sunburned cheeks. He'd never seen her so close and he swore on everything he knew that he had never seen a woman more beautiful than her.
Not even Ino.
Shikamaru inched closer, slowly, taking in every freckle that dusted her cheeks, the small mole under her left eye, the tiniest scar above her eyebrow, the perfect curve and bow of her lips. He memorized every inch of her skin; committed the smell of her to his memory.
And just as he pressed his lips against her soft, giving mouth, her eyes flew open to stare into his, as if daring him to continue, daring him to move away.
He didn't back down. He could see the stars.
AN: I know I should apologize 'cause I said I'd update but I was busy trying to graduate from college (or uni, as some of you may call it). I would promise more frequent updates but I'm tired of breaking promises. So I won't make any.
Please review! As always, they are greatly appreciated and I weep to myself at night as I read them, honored and full of joy at your words.
(I'm also very aware of the GLARING error in the previous chapter but I can't edit it out anymore without re-uploading everything and possibly mucking everything up. So my baaad)
