My hands were shaking as I left the room. I checked the bathroom, my father's trashed bedroom, the hall closet and laundry room, until I came to the alarming conclusion that Kohaku had to be somewhere downstairs.

Downstairs. With my father asleep on the couch.

I almost forgot my attempts at being quiet as I descended the stairs. Thankfully my father hadn't moved and was still snoring loudly. I tiptoed past him to the kitchen and immediately recoiled; the room was absolutely atrocious. There was food covering the floor, as well as a number of empty bottles, and it reeked of pickled plums. The sickly aroma was almost tangible. I held my nose as I stepped over the mess; my foot connected with a bottle and I froze as it collided with a half-filled jar of the plums, but my father did not stir. I let out a breath that I hadn't realized I was holding and continued my search.

"Kohaku?" I whispered, peeking under the table. "Here, kitty. Come on out, it's okay." I checked every inch of the kitchen, checking under the table, the pantry, even some of the cabinets that I knew were impossible for him to open., all the while softly calling his name.

Minutes passed, agonizingly slow. I listened for his familiar meow. but heard nothing. The alarm grew in my stomach as I neared the sliding door leading into the backyard and found it open, just wide enough for, say, a cat to slip through. No doubt my father had gone out for a smoke and forgotten to shut the door all the way. I knew it wasn't on purpose, for if my father had discovered Kohaku on his own accord he would have killed him. Heart pounding in my ears, I pushed the door the rest of the way and ran outside.

"Kohaku!" I circled the perimeter of the house, checking all the bushes, but found no sign of him. "Kohaku!"

With a defeated sigh I stood in the front yard, arms limp at my sides, as the familiar sting of tears branded my eyes. I blinked them back furiously. It was better this way, Kohaku being gone. Maybe someone else would find him and give him the proper care he deserved, rather than being cooped up in a bedroom all day. He didn't need to be around the likes of my father.

As I returned to the back of the house to the sliding door, I was greeted by the disheveled form of my father. My heart dropped to my stomach, but I squared my shoulders and tried my best to look nonchalant as I approached. Had he heard me calling for Kohaku outside?

"What are you doing out here? Get your ass in here and clean this shit up!" He seized me by the hair, ripping one of my buns free from its restraints, with quicker reflexes than I would have expected from someone with a hangover. Pain seared through my scalp as he dragged me inside and slammed the door shut, rattling the door frame.

While I began putting the remnants of food and trash into a large bag, my father grabbed another bottle of sake from the fridge and popped it open. He watched me through bleary, red-rimmed eyes as I cleaned up the floor. Then he seemed to grow bored and padded from the room with slow, shuffling steps. I reached up and, carefully, rearranged my free hair into its bun, wincing at the tenderness in my scalp. That was going to sting for a bit.

For another two hours I cleaned up the kitchen, sweeping and mopping the floor with exceedingly careful detail: if I missed something, he would make me pay for it. Finally, back cussing with aches, I dared to leave the kitchen and aim for the stairs.

"Hey, I'm not done with you yet!" I heard the sound of a bottle being slammed onto the coffee table. "Get back in there and make me something to eat."

I took a deep breath. "There's barely anything left, Dad. Most of it was on the floor."

"Don't you sass me, you ungrateful bitch." He staggered a bit and fell back onto the couch. Without another word I retreated back to the kitchen. Thankfully his tirade hadn't reached the freezer. I grabbed a bag of frozen peas and a cut of steak, and while they cooked on the stove I kept glancing out the window, hoping for a glimpse of Kohaku. But in the gathering dusk, his black pelt was nearly indiscernible. I sighed heavily and looked back at the steak. I could grab anything from the medicine cabinet in the bathroom, end his streak of abuse for good. How many times had I made him food, thinking this? I shook off the thought with a feeling of nausea. As much as I may hate the man, I could never kill him. He was my father, and deep down I still loved him.

"Hurry it up!" he yelled from the living room. I sighed and turned the burners off; I guessed he was having rare steak tonight. I brought him a plate, and when he didn't take it from me I set it down on the table next to his sake and again turned for the stairs. This time, to my relief, he didn't stop me.

The hope that I'd somehow missed Kohaku in my search extinguished when I entered my room and, again, found him gone. I dropped heavily onto my bed. I'd only sat there for a few moments when the doorbell sounded downstairs. I raced to the window, saw the familiar red of Shikamaru's van, and felt my heart plummet to my stomach.

Oh, no.

The doorbell rang again. "Tenten!" my father yelled. "Hurry up and get that!"

I practically sprinted down the stairs and opened the door halfway, trying to keep my father from view. Shikamaru stood on the doorstep, one hand shoved into the pocket of his baggy jeans, the other holding a book.

"Found this in the backseat, figured it was yours," he said, extending it to me. "You're the only one of us who actually reads willingly."

I took it from him and smiled. "Thanks. I'll see you later." He looked ready to say something else, but I had no choice but to shut the door in his face. I stood by the door, rooted to the spot by my father's glare. Only after he heard the sound of Shikamaru's van driving away did he stand up from the couch, and I braced myself for what was to come.

"Come here." When I obeyed, he reached forward and grabbed me roughly by the arm. I winced as his fingernails dug into my skin. "Who was that?" he demanded.

"No one," I said, "just someone from school. He brought me a book I forgot."

"He said you left it in his car," Dad said, narrowing his eyes. "You been whoring around with guys again, huh? Lying to my face!"

"No, Dad-" Before I could finish, his slap cracked across my face, and it was only his hand wrapped tightly around my forearm that kept me on my feet.

"What have I told you about lying to me?" he yelled, and struck the other side. Both of my cheeks smarted as my eyes watered, but I didn't cry. Crying was for the weak, he always said, and it only made him more angry. He stared at me for a long moment, then released me with a rough shove that almost sent me to the floor. I wasted no time in heading back up the stairs to the safety of my room.

My cheeks throbbed with pain as I investigated the damage in the mirror. They were red and sore, but hopefully wouldn't bruise. I could explain one, but two was a stretch. I left the room long enough to retrieve a cold washcloth from the bathroom in an attempt to reduce the swelling.

One of these days, I thought as I pressed the cloth to my skin, wincing a bit. One of these days I'm going to come home and find him dead on the floor from an overdose, or alcohol poisoning. If he was going to die, it would be on his own terms, not mine. He could drink and medicate and smoke himself to death if he wanted. I couldn't stop him anymore.

By morning the pain in my cheeks had reduced to a dull ache. One of them had bruised, though very faintly. I did my best to cover it up with what little makeup I owned before leaving the house. The walk to school only took me about forty-five minutes, but the increasingly cold mornings were doing very little by means of making it more pleasurable. I pulled my hoodie closer around me and shoved my hands deep into the pockets.

It seemed that, with each passing second, I missed Kohaku more and more. He was all I could think about as I sat through my morning classes, struggling to focus on what Mr. Hatake was writing on the board. It was getting colder-what if he froze to death, or was hit by a car? By the time lunch rolled around, I had a headache that could have split concrete. As I walked to the table, I spied the long brown-haired head of Neji seated beside Hinata, and it was the first thing that cheered me up since crawling out of bed. I claimed the remaining seat beside him with a heavy sigh.

"You okay, Tenten?" Kiba asked around a mouthful of jerky. "You look seriously beat."

"I'm fine, just didn't sleep that well. Headache." I rubbed my forehead. There was a rattling sound, and I found myself staring at a bottle of ibuprofen.

"Here," Neji said. His face seemed gentler today, not as guarded. It was a much better look for him.

"Thanks." I smiled at him gratefully and unscrewed the cap. After a few moments of chatter, I noticed Shikamaru eyeing me every now and then. He was never much for words to begin with, but he was oddly quiet. I figured that I'd probably hurt his feelings with my treatment of him yesterday night. When the dismissal bell trilled I waited for him to return from dumping his leftover food.

"Hey, Shika," I said, waving him over. He shoved his hands into his pockets, slouching as always as he walked over. "I'm sorry about last night. I was in the middle of something with my dad." Sort of the truth, right? I lifted my hand to my cheek almost unconsciously and had to force myself to drop it.

"Right." He nodded a bit, but something about his expression gave me the clear indication that he didn't believe me. His eyes dropped to where my hand had been, and they narrowed ever so slightly. "I guess that would explain the bruise, then." I opened my mouth to fumble some lame excuse, but he spoke first. "I drove back around, Tenten, you're on a dead-end street. I saw what he did to you." When I looked bewildered, he rubbed the back of his head with a sigh. "Windows are things, you know."

Suddenly my mouth was painfully dry. Swallowing hard, all I could say was "Oh."

"So, is that's him being 'sick'?" He made air quotes around the word with his fingers. "Sick in the head, you mean."

"Shikamaru-"

"Tenten, the guy beats you. Have you not told anyone about this?" His dark eyes flashed in a way I had never seen. A way that was almost dangerous.

"No, and neither can you," I replied, panic rising in my stomach. "He's all I have left, Shika. He may not be much, but he keeps a roof over my head."

He didn't seem to grasp my last statement, still staring at me in disbelief. "Sasuke doesn't even know?"

I shook my head. Shikamaru pressed a hand to his forehead with a pained expression.

"When did this start? I remember your dad, and he wasn't like this last year."

I looked down. "My mom."

Shikamaru inhaled sharply. "Shit, that's right. I'm sorry." But his tone turned darker. "Tenten, I'm serious. You're not safe there."

"I can't leave him, Shika," I said quietly. "He's my dad."

"You don't owe him anything." The one-minute warning bell sounded, and Shikamaru sighed. "We're not done talking about this. I'll meet you at your locker after school."

"Shikamaru-" I tried to protest, but he was already gone down the hallway. I shouldered my bag with a heavy feeling in the pit of my stomach. Part of me wondered why I wouldn't listen to him, why I refused to just tell the nearest person and be whisked away from my dad forever. But the other corner of my mind, the one that still remembered and loved the person he used to be, couldn't abandon him. It's what my mother would want me to do.

Oh, my mom. As I hurried off to class I pictured her in my mind, exactly the way she was before she died. I had her brown eyes and her hair, thick and dark and unmanageable. She was the only one with enough patience to brush it for me; she knew the struggle. I would fall asleep on her lap halfway through, and I'd wake up in the morning in my bedroom. swathed in a nest of blankets. People always said I looked like her, the older I got. And once she was gone my father couldn't stand the sight of me.

Only a year had passed since then, but it felt like an entire lifetime. After the accident he gave himself over to the bottle, became violent and irritable. I couldn't have friends over anymore, so I warned them away with lies about how he'd developed seizures. No one asked questions, no one stopped by the house.

Now Shikamaru knew. Yet I couldn't deny that I felt more than a little relieved. After months of silence, of hiding bruises and keeping secrets, I could finally talk to someone. And out of everyone, Shikamaru was the only one that I knew would keep it strictly between us. I knew he trusted me, just as much as I trusted him. If I told him I would handle it, he would listen. And if not, I'd make him.

As I entered the classroom, Neji tilted his head and looked at me, and he gave a little nod of acknowledgment before turning to face the front again. Before I realized what I was doing, I passed my desk and claimed the empty one behind him, setting my bag on the ground with a heavy thunk.

"What?" I shrugged when he swiveled around in his chair to give me a comically bewildered stare. "You looked lonely over here."

"I'm honored to have you grace me with your company, then," he returned dryly.

I pressed a hand to my chest, feigning indignation. "Your lack of appreciation hurts."

He rolled his silvery-white eyes and twisted to face the front of the room as the bell rang. He didn't turn around for the rest of the period, but I liked to think that he was, at least a little, glad to have me there. Sure, we didn't know each other that well, but that could always change.

"Did you get a word of that?" I asked him as we left the classroom. "She lost me at 'absolute convergence.'" I shuddered a bit. "Sounds like some illness."

He gave me a look that clearly read 'you have got to be kidding me.' "You didn't pay attention?"

"Oh, no, I did for part of it," I replied. "But then she stopped speaking English, so I tuned out."

"Right." He shook his head, long hair swaying with the movement. "You can copy my notes."

I grinned. "Thanks a ton, you're a lifesaver."

Again with that not-quite smile. I followed him back to our desks, past Sasuke, who stared at me with his black eyes as I sat down and rummaged through my backpack. It was hard to believe that only two days had passed since we last spoken; I couldn't remember a single instance where we had gone without communication for so long, in all the years that we had been friends. Whenever we had an argument, we barely lasted a few hours before one of us gave in and apologized. Normally that was me, but Sasuke was too proud for his own good. Only, this time it wasn't a matter of pride. He made a choice, willingly. End of story.

"Neji," I said suddenly. "Would you mind switching seats with me?"

He arched one eyebrow, but he didn't question me as he gathered his things and made way for me to pass. I sat down heavily, my view of Sasuke now obscured by the sleek blond-haired head of Ino Yamanaka.

"Thanks," I sighed. Neji only nodded silently and bent over to write the outline Mr. Guy scribbling on the board. I felt exceedingly childish, hiding from Sasuke. But the longer I looked at him, the more my stomach was filled with pangs and twists of pain. I was just beginning to write down the notes when Ino turned to me, folding her arms over my notebook unceremoniously.

"Heya, Tenten," she said cheerfully. Her vivid blue eyes studied me closely, to the point where I no longer felt affronted but more so uncomfortable. "So, I notice you and Sasuke aren't so chummy anymore."

"I'm not sure that's any of your business, Ino," I replied numbly. Minimal responses. Calm. Remain calm.

"Oh, wait," Ino said, widening her eyes for emphasis. "He probably figured out that you like him, didn't he? Poor thing." She shook her head. I didn't know who she was referring to, and didn't care.

I blinked at her, stupefied. "What are you talking about? Actually, nevermind, I don't even want to know." I pulled my notebook out from beneath her arms and sat back out of her reach. Once she realized that I was clearly done with the conversation, she huffed a bit and turned back around. I suddenly regretted my change of seating.

After a few moments of trying to focus on the lectures, I gave up and let the notebook drop onto my desk. I glanced over at Neji; if he had heard Ino's and my exchange, he didn't give any sign. He didn't look at me at all for the remainder of the class period, and only when we were dismissed did he hand me his notebook, neatly labeled Calculus.

"Oh, thanks!" I stuffed it into my bag and walked out beside him into the bustling hall. "Well, I've gotta meet Shikamaru. See you Monday!"

"See you." He grabbed the strap of his bag and disappeared into the crowd.

Shikamaru was already waiting for me by the time I reached my locker. "So I've got a condition for you," he said as a greeting, moving aside to allow me to spin my combination.

"Wonderful." I yanked it open. "And what might that be?"

"We're hanging out at Kiba's. You come along, and I promise to keep this between us." He folded his arms expectantly.

I sighed. "Shika, he's already angry enough when I come home late from anything." I shouldered my bag and turned to face him. "It's how he picks his fights with me. And why this condition, of all things?"

"Because you need to stop moping over Sasuke and have some fun," he replied. "We're not happy about this whole thing either, you know."

"Right, sure," I mumbled. "But I really don't think it's a good idea."

He only looked at me, and his eyes narrowed dangerously. "I don't want you in that house any longer than you have to be, Tenten."

I chewed on my lower lip, trying to consider every possible alternative. Now that Kohaku was gone, I didn't have to worry about my dad discovering him. A mixed blessing of sorts, I supposed. But he would surely be angry at me for arriving home late. Who else was going to cook his food?

I reached up to rub my face, and winced when my fingers came into contact with my bruised cheek. Something broke within me, then, and I clenched my jaw and looked at Shikamaru. No matter what I did, my father would find some excuse to give me a beating, and that was just the way it was.

"Okay, I'll come."