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When Temari heard Asuma had passed away, she had to find a quiet corner to sit down.
Not to cry. Never to cry.
But she sat for an hour, just breathing steadily, just not-thinking, just letting everything wash past her.
She didn't know him well, of course. It wasn't as if they had ever worked together.
At the end of the one hour she got up and went into the storeroom in their house and dug through the boxes in storage.
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Shikamaru signed for the item and took the small courier package into his bedroom.
It had been sent by express delivery; she had paid for it herself.
When he tore the box open he almost smiled, despite the lump in his throat.
Placing the object on his table, he wrote a short thank-you note to send to Temari tomorrow.
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Chouji came to pass Shikamaru the books he had asked to borrow. When he got into the shadow-nin's room, Chouji could still smell the acrid scent of cigarettes lingering in the small space. He could also see the black ashtray that held all the cigarette butts.
It hadn't been there yesterday.
"Temari?" Chouji asked as Shikamaru stacked the books neatly on a shelf.
Shikamaru handed him the previous stack he borrowed from the Akamichi family library. "Temari."
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