Title:

Condition

--o-o--( ) --o-o--

I shake, still feeling the wind biting through my fingers. I force myself into a sitting position, set my arm down onto the glass table.

He sits as if he has trouble doing so - his posture is stiff, stern, even. He frowns and places his fingers to mine.

I jerk back as if his fingers has jolts of electricity. I don't know if it's a trauma reaction or just astonishment at how cold his grip is, but whatever the reason, I'm suddenly three feet away, my chair pushed far away from him.

"I'm - sorry," I manage, the words coming out jerkily. I take his hand again, avoiding his expression.

Something about him is ominous, almost, forecasting dark weather.

"I'll begin on the count of three," he directs, his voice sounding hollow to my ears.

"One."

"Two."

I shiver on his count of three.

And then a terrible pain shoots up my radius, and my muscles clench tightly, cramping. There's fire in his eyes, a slash of eyebrows, gritted teeth. His hair falls down fluidly between his eyes.

I bite my tongue and it bleeds automatically. I taste metal.

Nothing has happened so far, it appears. Our hands are interlocked in the middle - fused, almost -

He squeezes so tightly I'm afraid my bones will break.

He refuses to give up. He's unlike anyone else. He won't budge.

Tears start in my eyes. How can I explain to him - that it hurts, that I've never experienced so much pain? My hand feels like a dead wing, wrung and wrinkled and limp.

I've never said his name aloud before.

The word feels strange on my tongue. "Sasuke - "

This isn't a test of strength, I want to scream. It's not crushing your opponent's will. It's about determination! It's about not backing down -

Our eyes meet for a brief second.

Everything is lost. I don't know what it is, it's like yin and yang, black and white, horizontal and vertical, vertical, vertical...

I can't move.

And in that instant, my arm falls to the table.

I jerk back my hand from his, the tears falling freely now. I don't want to talk to him. I don't want to be near him.

"Good job," I almost spit out. The headband is insignificant. I rush out the door.

Rain falls harder.

--o-o--( ) --o-o--

I can't describe it. It's like coming out of the cold, seeing a marvelous lighted cottage ahead. Stumble to the door and knock. The door opens. And it's like getting the door slammed into your face.

Losing is insignificant, even. The pride that I'd aligned to never being beaten before is foolish.

I'd just experienced something far, far more expansive.

Hate. Revulsion. Enmity. I'd felt all of these things in a flash.

What is it, I wonder, flinging off the sodden rain coat, that's in his gaze? Everything about it repels me.

How can he bear to be so cold, so unmoving? The way his fingers lack warmth, the way he unmercifully does whatever is in his power to crush the good things in his opponent.

I want to shrink away from him. I want to scream and twist the truth, but reality is reality.

I can't be on the same planet as him, even. He is a creature altogether different from being human.

I tremble, drawing the covers closer to my face.

It's just a one time thing, I tell myself. I'll avoid him at all costs from this day onward. I won't even acknowledge his presence.

That was the first day of meeting Sasuke Uchiha.

It wasn't the last.

--o-o--( ) --o-o--

one month later

Kiba scowls angrily. "That's not fair! I thought we had a mission today!"

"It's canceled," stipulates Kurenai, but there's something like sympathy in her eyes. "Training is finished. The rest of the day is free."

Kiba's response is a kick to a tree. "This isn't what is was supposed to be!"

I agree. We've had nothing to do in the past three days but part time training. It's living a shadow of a ninja. There's no meaning.

I lug the knapsack of weapons onto my back, departing after exchanged farewells.

My mind is heavy, my thoughts worrisome.

I've been categorized as the shy girl again. My thirst for arm-wrestling has diminished, even disappeared entirely. Something defeated its purpose. Competition wasn't appealing to me anymore.

I make my way through the crowd, glimpsing the blinding sunlight reflecting off of headbands.

I wince, and look down. Mine is gone. I had to accept it.

And then I bump into someone. "Sorry - " I don't bother to look up.

"Watch where you're going."

I glance upwards - but it's a mistake.

It's him.

I freeze, deer caught in headlights.

"I haven't seen you around," he says slowly, his dark eyes taking in my expression. Not taking in - more like judging, inwardly smirking, anticipating my next move.

I can't move.

"I still have your headband," he continues, his chin set.

He's a whole head taller than me. He's intimidating. Words fail to surface.

He pauses, and I choose this moment to push through the crowd. I have a feeling, an instinct - get away fast.

Too late.

His hand wraps around my wrist.

I turn around and snatch my wrist away. His eyes widen imperceptibly.

And I speak, voicing something, anything -

"I don't know what's wrong with you!" I burst out. He doesn't move. Can't he see I'm upset, confused? "I - you - just leave me alone!"

I can't stand him.

And then, suddenly, like a dam bursting - "Talk, you jerk!"

I don't know why. Tears come to my eyes. I can't talk to him.

I cast my gaze away and run through the crowd. But not before I see a hint of a smirk on his lips.

It's called love at first sight, Hinata.

Duh :)

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