Fish Bird

Fish Bird

By Acacia-Brown

A/N: Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, especially Zrina, it makes my jawdrop everytime I read a review from you on this...seriously, you're too good. *wibbles*

Chapter 5: Twisting Lines

++++++++

Naruto trudged heavily down the stairs, yawning. He’s in a bad mood this morning, hair in delightful disarray as he slams against the hallway wall, shoulder taking the brunt of the impact. He grunts, scowling heatedly, and then jumps down the last few steps.

He had no sleep after that… none at all. After the… dream if that’s what you would call it.

//More like a Nightmare //

Naruto thinks, stretching long limber arms over his head, fingers curling into streams of morning sunlight. The funny thing is that he can still feel parts of it- the indents on his skin from Sasuke’s fingertips, and his lips feel slightly tender this morning, rubbed raw and bitten.

But he knows, flushing, that this is entirely impossible. It’s his imagination being more then slightly overactive. And yet it’s nagging away at the back of his mind, and he stops before he opens the door, and peers into the hanging mirror to check there isn’t a black mark around his eye from where Sasuke recoiled his fist and struck him.

But there’s nothing.

Wide cornflower blue eyes peer anxiously back at him, blinking lashes and knowing full well he’s staring his own ignorant innocence right in the face. He lets out a long sigh, and his stomach recoils somewhat as relief floods through him in a tide. It’s beyond absurd to think that Sasuke would actually… it’s not… what he means is… he’s so asexual!

He finds himself looking worriedly over his shoulder, as if by thinking these thoughts the Uchiha can hear him. But he shakes it off, frowning:

// Something’s are just ridiculous, he can’t read your thoughts Naruto. //

In a few minutes he finds himself shuffling blearily around his kitchen, hands following an automatic routine; and presently is seated, bowl of cereal and glass of milk nearby. He’d been trying to break the habit of eating ramen for breakfast (or every meal, solidly,) when he had started spending the nights over a Sakura’s apartment. She had told him somewhat bluntly it is true, that if he continued to do it, she’d shove his chopsticks up certain unmentionable orifices, and that they’d never ever have sex again.

// She could be pretty scary when she wanted to be… //

He still sneaked a few every once in a while, hoping that she wouldn’t find out (she always did, and sometimes he wondered if Sakura could honestly read minds.)

Naruto looks glumly at his food. He doesn’t feel much like eating (not even ramen!) He doesn’t feel like doing anything much really. His stomach is churning away like old dusty coals in a furnace, bringing old heat back up to the boil again.

He feels… what does he feel? It’s a good question.

Angry, nervous, Insanely Infuriated?

Maybe, and perhaps foremost, disappointed.

Because he so badly wanted to avoid this.

Naruto rubs a closed fist over his eyes, and feel somewhat strained. There’s no dignity in this, no dignity at all. But he won’t- he can’t forgive Sasuke for what he’s done and said, it’s beyond his morality to pretend it never happened. He’s rammed the nail straight in and now the point is sticking out between his shoulder blades, jarring, bloody, sudden and painful every time he moves.

Unenthusiastically he swirls his spoon about the cereal bowl, watching the contents glob, reform and cluster. He looks at his glass of milk (yes glass, not carton, try not to faint) and he still feels listless, like limp salad left out in the sun to curl and brown about the edges. It’s an admission of defeat as he pushes away from the table and takes the bowl over to the windowsill and pours the glass of milk into Virginia’s plant pot. He murmurs a muted: “Good morning and how are you?” to her. She looks prickly today he thinks, spines almost quivering in the early morning light; Naruto supposes she must feel the tension and sighs heavily.

// Stupid Jerk //

and then a smaller voice:

// He called me a monster…//

Naruto braces his hands against the sides of the kitchen counter and looks down into the soap-suds of the basin. His distorted image frowns up at him. His whisker like scars seem to be etched deeper then ever into his skin, little linear discolorations, all jagged and wry.

What had he thought when he was younger? That these were the marks left by some savage beast? The thing that had left him and devoured his parents? Naruto finds himself laughing, although there’s nothing remotely humorous to laugh at. It’s the foxes outward claim on the vessel he is contained in, somewhere inside of him, in this universally close space of atoms, molecules, cells, tissues and organs that make up his body: an infinite chasm with impenetrable walls and hooked iron spikes exists, keeping this creature in.

Part of him hates it, part of him excepts it, and another piece just doesn’t seem to care.

As long as he keeps it subdued and under control, no one will mind. As long as it doesn’t get loose they won’t be afraid of him. He used to have nightmares, a long, long time ago about what would happen if the fox got loose while he was sleeping, how it happened to Gaara. What if he woke up one morning amongst blood, rubble and chaos and it would all be his fault?

What if he had killed everybody in his sleep?

What if he found Sakura lying next to him, her neck broken in half because… because…

What if…?

Naruto shudders at the memory, runs his cold fingers over his hot eye sockets and finds himself exhaling loudly.

// It’s not going to happen, so don’t worry about it. //

He’s come a long way since then- nothing is going to pop out unexpectedly. He finds himself pouring the dirty water down the drain, watching as the last swirls of liquid are sucked down into the dark mouth of the plug-hole.

Sasuke… Sasuke never really says anything unless each thought has been weighed, calculated and measured against a long list of possible outcomes, gains and losses. Very rarely does he ever act on impulse, Naruto thinks, taking a step back and glowering at the ceiling. Not ever. He’s never had a moment of passion when half unguarded words come tumbling from his mouth, mingled with fear, simplicity and truth. Everything’s evaluated, preordained and edited. It’s like talking to some self-processed machine, utterly inhuman, inevitably frustrating and totally pointless.

It makes what he said worse, because if it was an act of senseless anger it would be much easier to forgive, but the fact is- the fact is simple: it is not a random slip of the tongue.

Naruto shakes his head, still scowling, and makes his way towards the door. He opens it, meaning to leave for work, the unappealing call of paperwork is looming ahead, and he can see that old hag grinning at him from behind piles and piles of things he’s neglected to do.

He hasn’t set out breakfast for Sasuke.

For a while he considers whether or not he should bother. Sasuke is ill after all, even if he is the world’s biggest Pain In The Ass- a small sneaky smile trails up the side of Naruto’s expressive mouth as he thinks about it.

//Sure, why not give him breakfast//

And he pulls open the cupboard and fetches out the cereal box, a china bowl, a spoon, the milk and then- his hand lingers for a moment over what seems to be white sugar bowl. But one can swear that his blue eyes are sparkling too merrily for this to be the entire truth. He carefully sprinkles a spoonful of it quite liberally all over the cornflakes, reasoning to himself that the Uchiha is probably too busy sulking anyway to eat this.

Probably.

// Damned if I do, damned if I don’t. //

Might as well get caught red handed, trousers down and ass-raped for something he has done, than something he hasn’t done on purpose, right? That’s the general idea anyway.

Naruto walks out his front door whistling, slamming it loudly behind him. Before he leaves he checks the house boundaries, and it seems to be as if he’s feeling for an invisible line that runs along the perimeter of the building. As everything seems to be in order he turns briskly about, shows a wide satisfied grin that reveals the sharp top tips of his canines glinting in the morning light, and he laughs, arms up over his head, before he seemingly just… disappears.

+++++++

The door slams hard shut, and Sasuke Uchiha take time to reflect that this time the idiot didn’t even take the time to yell a hurried “Goodbye.”

Not that it matters, nothing matters of that element anymore, not to him anyway.

He’s been reasoning with himself since the day before yesterday, exactly what he’s got to do… but the problem is he just doesn’t know how to do it. Normally, if he were able to use Chakra, this job, this mission he had set himself would have already been completed. Minus the paper work. But now, instead of a fallen tree blocking his path, someone has relocated mount Fuji. And he doesn’t even know where to start climbing.

He has to… the objective is to….

Again, Sasuke opens his mouth and tries with the delicate slip of his tongue to form a word. Although the thought registers, something actively prevents him from annunciating it. The syllables are swallowed violently and it’s like he’s fighting with a burning moth inside his head and throat. He grits his teeth and snarls in fury, trying hopelessly to grind the words from between his molars. But all that comes forth is a wrenched cry, like someone in anguish, which he supposes to an extent he is. The black things on his wrist and the one dead centre of his chest pulse, and burn coldly into his flesh and he hisses at the dull pain. Sasuke can feel himself flooding with a self-hatred of his body and it’s limitations, and forces himself to stand up.

For a start he can begin with exploring the whole apartment undisturbed now that Naruto will be gone for a few hours. The idea of a task lightens Sasuke’s mood somewhat, reducing the odd collision of thoughts and memories inside his mind. Reducing everything into pieces, like a jigsaw puzzle, something that he can assemble and disassemble with the view of a clear logical outline. It takes the human element out of it, and it’s something he can handle, easier then breathing and twice as natural.

He begins by opening the door and stepping lightly out into the hallway. The boards creak underneath his weight, and he winces at the noise despite the lack of anyone else around to hear it. It’s out of habit that he treads lightly, as if every movement is being followed and tracked by some invisible eye.

He moves methodically, trying in turn each door handle and cautiously looking inside. Sasuke is more than surprised to discover that Naruto’s room is unlocked and unprotected from his invasion… he doesn’t know why he’s slightly perturbed by this. Because he expected resistance maybe? Some concern, to keep objects from his clearly prying nature? But there’s no such barrier.

The second cause for surprise is at how small the room is, it must be half the size of the one he’s sleeping in, and as untidy and cluttered as he’d imagine it to be. There are empty bowls on the floor as well as comics sprinkled liberally every few feet; a t-shirt sprawled in a puddle of absent material, forlorn and miserable in the middle of the floor. Sasuke has to try hard not to squash the impulse to march straight in there and clean it all up, to give himself piece of mind. He can feel it gnawing away in the back of his skull even as he forces himself to concentrate on things above floor level.

But this doesn’t help: inevitably, Naruto’s room is filled with what Sasuke can only describe as nostalgia. There are… pictures everywhere, not always in frames, but sort of scattered about here, there and everywhere and subconsciously his expression changes to become something very ugly.

It’s a weird thing, Sasuke thinks absently as he steps artfully across the floor, feet finding spaces between the comics and scattered socks. He doesn’t quite know why he’s possessed by an interminable desire to search around here in the first place. He wouldn’t like to think he was nosy (Sasuke dear, you are in denial here,) it’s more like an objective: know your enemy and you can never be caught off guard.

He’s known- or he did know Naruto, for a long time. But, though few of their encounters so far have shaken him… he feels the blonde haired idiot has some hold on him: an invisible grip on his arm that no matter what he does he just can’t shake off. It keeps him awake, wondering and puzzling over it, teeth grinding in annoyance.

After testing the drawers any sort of secrecy spell, he rifles through each one in turn. It’s not too pleasant (Naruto’s underwear, he believes, isn’t fit for anything with eyes,) but there are only inconsequential clothes here, and rather puzzlingly a fork. Sasuke firmly shuts them all, with a self-satisfied ‘I knew it’ look bobbing curvaceously on his lips. It’s about the closest thing to a flirt he can form and he’s not even aware when he’s doing it or what on earth the look is.

//There must be something //

Sasuke thinks, something interesting… where are the ‘naughty’ magazines? The porn? The condoms? The alcohol? Something like that. He expects it from Naruto, as he peers speculatively under the bed- hastily withdrawing his head and wishing he hadn’t looked.

There are dust bunnies the size of a small type of terrier under there… along with a moth eaten and clearly mutating fuzzy orange slipper.

// God knows what possessed him to wear that….//

Sasuke pushes himself back on his haunches, glancing speculatively at the wardrobe, head tilted to the side like a calculating bird.

// …Why leave the job unfinished?//

It’s simple old stained oak panelling, pushed firm against the wall, with small, iron loop handles: an antique minimalist look. Sasuke’s eyebrows rise up his brow without command: it’s oddly… tasteful for Naruto. He is instantly suspicious. He moves an outstretched finger towards one handle, but millimetres away from the cold corrugated iron… the air prickles slightly.

He lets his mind probe… something surges down his arms, rippling down the flesh and through the skin, until it’s stopped, sucked into a spinning black orb and then away into nothingness with a sickening swoon of faltering energy. Sasuke snarls, teeth grinding back, narrowly missing his tongue. He pre-supposed in his irritation that Naruto, being an idiot, will not have thought of protecting whatever is in said closet. On this point he is of course, proved wonderfully wrong. As his fingers make contact, the wardrobe seems to slip back into the wall, sensing intrusion without permission and it’s defences are riled.

Something bitter and chalky billows over Sasuke, forming a choking, suffocating cloud. There seems to be an endless supply of it, and he’s coughing and sneezing inside the swirling veil as it clings and settles onto every surface it can find.

He catches sight of himself in the mirror opposite.

// And now I’m a giant snowman //

During his sneezing fit, eyes watering, he watches the wardrobe slide casually out of the wall again. As Sasuke stretches out his hands, he registers the fact that his body is covered in a particularly sugary layer of frosting. Naruto’s choice of protection ward is most definitely not without personal humour.

// Dumb idiot… What’s he got to hide anyway//

A change of clothes later, Sasuke is suitably annoyed not to give a damn what the hell the apartment looks like after he’s done with it. He’s decided to leave Naruto’s room well and truly alone however, after the chalk covering the floor started to clump together to form several rude words along the politest version of: ‘Got you good, Nosy GIT!’ He couldn’t quite get all the chalk out of his hair. To his great annoyance, the more he washed it the more it seemed to stick. But he’s hoping (more accurately, wishing for a miracle,) that the grey streak isn’t that noticeable.

Sasuke resumes exactly what he was doing before Naruto’s room attacked him, (Sasuke point-blank refuses to acknowledge even the slightest hint of amusement,) but now he doesn’t bother with subtly. He slams open doors and twists handles in a most unforgiving manner, yanking open the door to Naruto’s bathroom most fiercely.

He begins mercilessly poking around, opening up cupboards and bottle lids, knocking things aside in the medicine cabinet. The only things present a few aspirin, several years over their sell by date, so Sasuke bins them. If he takes those he thinks he’ll probably pass out… stupid fox. There’s also a tube of orange toothpaste, an orange toothbrush, an orange razor, a bottle of orange cough mixture and a half empty bottle of – thankfully not orange- sleeping tablets. Sasuke has to stare, vaguely bewildered and eyebrows raised, before he can quite register the ubiquitous colour.

He finds himself staring at the bottle of sleeping tablets for a long time, until he pulls it down and shakes it about a bit. The bottle looks quite new, and is a high dosage. It’s obviously used quite often. He puts it back, frowning, not knowing if he’s slightly disappointed or not. He didn’t really expect to find a bottle of chloroform, poison or (heaven help him) Viagra. But there’s nothing really unusual at all about… well, any of it. His hunger is slightly lessoned by the fact that the finds a bag full of make up under the sink and decides to reserve judgment when he thinks about whatever possible use Naruto could ever have for it. It’s too… weird for his brain to compute the idea of him wearing it.

Sasuke spends most of the morning and early afternoon thoroughly exploring every nook and cranny of Naruto’s apartment that he can find, and it is much more dangerous then it would seem to be.

The closet in the dusty unused room at the end of the hall, for example, should-never-be-opened-EVER, because when it is the clutter descends like a waterfall all over and on top of said opener. Or rather, victim. Sasuke spent the better half of an hour wiggling and dragging himself out by his elbows to save himself from being crushed to death- all the time wondering how the hell Naruto had got all that stuff in there in the first place. There are also sharp objects in the coat and umbrella stand where he was sure he was going to loose an eye, as well as some sort of carnivorous, blood thirsty bat living in the broom cupboard the size of a -and Sasuke will swear this on his life- a baby elephant.

By the end of it all he’s furious with Naruto and even more so with himself because he’s exhausted and hungry, and he’s betting after yesterday that there won’t be any nicely prepared food for him, barely edible or otherwise.

As he ambles, hands in pockets down the stairs, dignity still intact… somehow: his stomach revolts at how absurdly normal the whole set up is. It’s so goddamned complacent, so homely, so fitting in, and he hates it. He hates it with every solid fibre of his being, which is saying a lot because it takes a lot for Sasuke to hate something: he’s lazy to an extent. He works on impulses of brilliant focused concentration on something that consumes him and just doesn’t give a damn about the rest.

He pushes open the door to the kitchen with one hand and stands in the archway, naturally eyeing up the place were he had thrown the ramen bowl at Naruto. For a moment he can see the idiot now, looking up at him, blue cornflower eyes reflecting something very close to terror as Sasuke had bent down close to him. It had occurred to Sasuke then and there, as he whispered those two words in that tone laced with venom, that Naruto wasn’t, really, very unlike the rest of them. Naruto had held Sasuke at arms length, not because he chose to but because he didn’t know what else to do. He was, in short, afraid of him.

Sasuke finds himself smiling again, the expression that is anything but a smile. Fear can be manipulated, channelled and warped into things that control and master a person. He considers for a moment what he could do to Naruto with it, and his mind wanders, eyes scanning the room, vision falling on the bowl of cereal as his stomach gives a particularly loud growl.

As he moves towards it, ravenous despite his resolve not to eat anything the idiot has had a hand in making, he finds it odd. It’s too nice a gesture, far too nice, considering everything. His hand hovers over the spoon as he sits down, craning over the bowl and scrutinizing it from all sides. But he can detect nothing wrong with it from it’s general appearance, golden cornflakes sprinkled with a generous helping of sugar. He takes the carton of milk, checks the sell-by-date, which seems fine, and eyes still narrowed he pours the milk over the cornflakes.

The cornflakes act as anyone would expect them to. Nothing explodes, it doesn’t change colour or start to smell like dead rotting fish- and that’s something. Knowing Naruto… anything could happen.

He dips the spoon in, waiting…. Absolutely nothing.

He opens his mouth, pink tongue dipped and curved as the spoon goes in and he tastes the cold metal and then… and then…

He wretches, gags and spits back into the bowl again.

Ample helpings of salt. Not sugar.

// Freakin’… Hilarious //

Sasuke Uchiha thinks he might very well be sick now, and if he is, he’s jolly well going to do it all over the idiot’s bed.

+++++++++


Naruto walks towards his desk, peering over the huge pile of papers he’s cradling in his arms. He blows blonde trails of hair out of his eyes and snaps irately:

“Why is there a giant needle on my desk? There’s a giant needle on my desk!!!! GIANT NEEDLE! I have to do paper work people. Paper work! Why do none of you understand this simple fact?!”

He shouts the last part, slamming the wobbling stacks down on one corner as Ino wanders over and picks up said evil needle. He glowers at her as she sticks it into her long blond hair and blinks her wide eyes at him.

“Hair ornament,” she states flatly, looking him up and down as if she suspects he just might have something contagious. Naruto snorts at her, slamming behind the desk, and makes a fuss about something else: muttering and scowling at anything and everything within ten meters.

Ino turns to the closest person behind her which happens to be Neji and asks “Is he okay?” to which Neji gives her a pained please-don’t-ask-me look, replying “he’s

been like that all morning.” Neji moves promptly off before Ino can say anything else. She puts both hands on her slim hips, and her mind clicks and whirrs into a meddling mode. Her sensibilities tell her that approaching Naruto at this point in time would be encroaching on a subject knows as Suicide, especially since he seems to be oozing a black cloud of ill-will over the surrounding area. All passing Jounin scuttle past looking wary.

Pushing her light blonde fringe from her eyes, she moves gracefully around the area and walks down the hall. She waves at Hinata who walks out of an adjacent room- followed closely by Neji, who is regarding the shy girl with a curiously soft look. Ino finds herself grinning, thinking that if Kiba doesn’t hurry up soon he’s going to have some serious competition on his hands.

She beckons Hinata to her, and waves Neji off with a dismissing hand movement- which is something because Neji can look quite foreboding in full ANBU get up. But he seems to take little notice of it, and walks collectedly past Ino after saying something to Hinata, who looks surprised and then a little confused.

“Your cousin,” Ino says, mouth milky pink and half-cynical, half-smiling as she says it, “is rather formidable, isn’t he?”

Hinata looks embarrassed as she bites her lip and tries to nod and shake her head at the same time. She looks, again, utterly confused afterwards. They stand in the corridor for a minute chatting, until Ino grabs Hinata by the collar when no one is looking and drags her into a nearby cupboard, where she hisses: “What the hell is wrong with Uzumaki?” Hinata looks stressed, although neither can really see as the cupboard door closes in on them. She’s stuck in the dark with a mop poking into her back and a bucket stuck on one foot.

“Wrong? Wrong… why should anything be… wrong?”

She is a hopeless liar and they both know it. Ino smiles like a cat cornering it’s prey and leans in a little closer.

“I know when Shikamaru’s keeping a secret from me. I know when Kiba’s in on the secret and for some reason I’m still clueless. I also know, Hinata, when you know something, and I don’t. One thing, which you are all going to ridiculous lengths to cover up! Naruto’s been acting weird ever since he came back from that last mission, and to be frank Shikamaru has too… he keeps talking about Naruto all the time, and yet he refuses to tell me why! He thinks I don’t know anything! HA!”

Ino gives a loud derisive laugh and ploughs on, her eyes glinting:

“I know the Hokage’s in on the whole thing, and that Iruka doesn’t know why Naruto spent two hours and forty five minutes in there with her and a council of elders being quizzed about whatever the hell it is.”

She crosses her arms and sits on another upturned bucket, narrowing her eyes accusatorily. The look gives Shikamaru shivers whenever he sees it, because it’s Ino being at her bossiest. Hinata quails somewhat and shrinks as far back into the corner as she can manage. She likes Ino, she really does, but she isn’t half a handful at the best of times and she’s been particularly crabby ever since Sakura left. Even though she acts like she doesn’t miss her.

“Who did they bring back with them, Hinata, on that mission? Who was the extra passenger? Why was that ward all blocked off in Kohona hospital for the entirety of two weeks? And medical-nin had to be escorted down with ANBU guard? Who are they keeping all locked up? What are they hiding? Hmmm? What? Tell me!”

Hinata is quite sure that if she doesn’t answer the question, Ino will simply crack her mind open anyway and read the information that is in there. She finds her hands scrabbling madly by the handle; she only found out by accident anyway! She’d rather die then betray Kiba’s trust in her.

She is, however, saved from Ino’s thorough inquisition when the cupboard door is tugged open and Shikamaru is revealed- Kiba peering curiously over his shoulder, sipping coffee.

“I thought I detected your high pitched shrieking tones,” Shikamaru says, looking down, one eyebrow raised. Ino looks disappointed and a terrorised-looking Hinata scrambles towards Kiba as fast as she can. “What on earth are you two doing?”

“Talking…” both Ino and Hinata say haltingly.

Kiba and Shikamaru exchange looks… “In the broom closet?”

//Women… //

Ino dusts dirt from her forearms and doesn’t answer, sniffing disdainfully as she rises from the up-turned bucket with surprising dignity. “Why aren’t you working?”

“I was working. Your voice just grinds so gratingly on my nerves I find it impossible to do anything, until I’ve found you to tell you once and for all to just shut up.”

“Go on, be rude, how very unsurprising and thoughtful of you, just come out here and yell at me in front of everyone? You have no respect for me at all do you?”

“Ino, that is a gross understatement. I have a healthy respect for you which is why I try to keep as far away as possible from you at all times. And as far as shouting goes, we all know it’s usually the other way around. I can’t ever hope to be half as annoying as you are.”

Ino’s chest swells as she crosses her arms and leans back a fraction. Tossing long blonde hair over her shoulder, mouth down and scowling, she licks her lips and prepares to spit back hellfire at the man who stands lazily in front of her. Dusky, angular, somewhat teasing, hands in pockets and spine slouched.

“Should we… stop them?” Hinata asks, whispering into Kiba’s ear by standing on tiptoe.

“Whatever for?” he responds. Without looking, Hinata knows Kiba to be smiling. She can hear it in his tone of voice: “It’s just getting to the good part!”

True to Kiba’s thoughts, Ino did look as though she was about to rip Shikamaru Nara limb from limb in her fury with her bare hands. But she was, sadly for Kiba, stopped- as Iruka who happened to chance walking down the hallway at this point spied the up-and-coming commotion and had the sense to break it up.

“Oh no!” he told them, irately shooing them back down the corridor again and through into one of the many office rooms.

“You guys are not doing that again, not after last time. I still haven’t regained hearing in one of my ears thanks to you lot.”

He looks pointedly at Ino, who seems to pretend not to hear him, merely sticking her nose stubbornly in the air. Kiba looks thoroughly disappointed.

It’s an odd thing to know that you’re a higher rank then your former teacher; it’s even odder to know it, and yet for the fact not to matter: they all stand there for a full ten minutes and receive the scolding full on from their former academy teacher. This is until Iruka, confident that they’ve been berated enough, suddenly seems as though he’s lost something. He peers at them, although he’s about the same height as Kiba and Shikamaru:

“Where is Naruto?” he asks suspiciously, as though someone is hiding him beneath their shoe. “If he’s not here causing trouble with you… then where is he causing trouble?”

Iruka is giving them the exact same look of last month when he found Naruto sprawled unconscious on the sidewalk with toe imprints on his forehead. The sort of, “I-don’t-believe-it-what-have-you-done-now?” expression.

“He’s doing paperwork.” Ino says placidly, sniffing disdainfully as Iruka gives a small snort of laughter.

“No really, where is he?” he enquires again. Naruto hates paperwork- he has to be dragged in by the ankles kicking and screaming before he’ll consider doing it.

“No really,” Shikamaru states back, nodding his head towards the direction Naruto is working in. Iruka peers around the corner sceptically, wondering if it’s some sort of elaborate joke, and then asks genuinely: “What’s wrong with him?”

“Lots of things,” says Kiba, sipping his coffee in the same way you would take a sip of cola at the cinema and reach for your tub of popcorn. “Where do I start? He likes to dance when he thinks nobodies watching, mostly in the kitchen and he forgets to close the blinds, and he has a mole on his left hip which I keep telling him to get checked out because it could be cancerous, but will he listen? No! He says that’s only if it’s hairy, and it doesn’t count if it’s a weird shape. And I say it does but he doesn’t believe me, personally I think it’s because it looks exactly like a-”

… But Kiba never gets to finish saying exactly what Naruto’s mole looks like because Shikamaru, for dignities sake, claps his hand over the his mouth. He gives a very strained smile and concludes with as much composure as possible: “We’ll go talk to him, don’t worry.” Which is a feat because Kiba, stopped in mid sentence, has yet to draw breath and begins to turn slowly purple.

Iruka looks disbelievingly at them for a minute but seems to think the better of it, because he turns to leave only adding “I’ll be back to check,” in rather ominous tones. Shikamaru removes his hand and lets Kiba slide to the floor in a dizzy pile to resume breathing again, eyes spinning whilst Ino taps her feet, looking accusatorily at all three of them.

“Well?” she asks: “Shikamaru Nara, aren’t you going to explain to me what’s going on?”

Shikamaru stretches and links his fingers behind his head, his look no longer playful but somewhat business like. “Nothings going on,” he says very simply just as a muffled cry of anger drifts out of the room behind them.

“He sounds like a strangled crow,” Kiba comments from his pile on the floor.

Ino raises both of her long pale eyebrows over her dewy eyes, and she plants her hands on her hips. “And tell me why I’m supposed to believe that Shikamaru, give me one good reason?”

“Because I’m not going to tell you.” Shikamaru replies, rolling his eyes. “Why do insist poking your nose in everywhere, Ino? Especially when it’s not wanted. It’s got nothing to do with you.”

“Nothing to do with me?” Ino protests looking somewhat hurt and then angry, “he’s my best friends boyfriend- of course it has something to do with me you huge great lump of an excuse for a human being!”

“And that’s why!” Hinata suddenly interjects, and then looks startled at her own boldness for speaking so loudly. They all stare at her and Kiba jumps to his feet.

“Erh… what I mean is… it’s well…” she bites her lips, and forefingers and thumb come together as she blushes furiously. “He’s upset because he hasn’t got a letter from Sakura yet.”

//The lies, Hinata, the lies…. //

“It’s been over three weeks you know,” Kiba finishes for her, and stands protectively in front of Hinata, shielding her from Ino’s accusatory glare. “They parted and, well, it wasn’t on unfriendly terms but he wanted a bit more than what he got.”

“Oh,” Ino suddenly breathes out very slowly and seems relieved, “is that all it is? I thought he was having an affair or something from the way you guys were carrying on. I mean, he’s acting like he’s had a lovers spat or something along those lines.”

Shikamaru and Kiba exchange fast uncomfortable looks of // I really hope not. //

“Why don’t we,” Hinata suggests, soft fingers curling around Kiba’s elbow and pushing them down so she can side step and move in front of him, “go see if he has any mail from Sakura? He’s bound to get letters because it’s a mercenary mission into a neutral zone and she’s just helping treat the casualties brought about by that flood. He might even be able to gain visiting access if he applies early enough. Do you want to come with, Ino?”

Ino raises her hands behind her head, links her fingers and pushes back, unclenching the knot in her spine and making her seem about two inches higher. She can’t disguise the look of relief that passes over her milky pink lips as she gives a small start of laughter.

“Yeah, I think that would be a great idea.”

Hinata smiles, walking forwards and taking her by the arm. As they walk off down the corridor together both boys can distinctly hear Hinata saying, “Maybe we could write her letter too?”

“I have no idea how she does it,” Kiba says, smiling fondly after the Hyuga girl- his eyes half closed, watching until they disappear around a corner.

“It’s called tact,” his friend states somewhat bluntly, hands still in pockets.

“Well I ain’t got none of that,” Kiba agrees with a wolfish grin. “I was just gonna sit and watch whilst your girlfriend ripped you limb from limb.”

“She not my girlfriend,” Shikamaru tells him and his tone is sharp as he turns about and begins walking towards the room Naruto is occupying. Funny muttering sounds are leaking out and drifting down the hallway.

Kiba bounces up and down behind him, “You still fancy her though,” and he can almost see Shikamaru rolling his eyes through the back of his head. “Had it not have been for Iruka, you guys would have totally gone for each other. It would have been great to watch,” he adds somewhat remorsefully.

He is ignored.

In a great display of courage Shikamaru approaches the desk that wobbles heavily with pile upon pile of paper. The mountains tremble somewhat, shielding their occupant securely from view. Both he and Kiba can feel the bad mood spooling behind it, oozing and trickling, swelling against a high-fastened wall and pounding to get out.

“Naruto?” Shikamaru asks, hoping his voice does not sound overly cautious. He has not as of yet dared to put his hands on the desk, having a looming fear of them being smashed by a bad tempered fist. There is a grunt from somewhere in the paper pile and a few sheets move in a seething mass of white, but apart from that nothing. Shikamaru swallows and licks his lips and looks imploring at Kiba, who sighs dramatically.

// Icebreaker here I come. //

Kiba takes a swallow and a gulp like a deep-sea diver about to embark on a long airless plunge, sticks his head right in amongst the piles and shouts:

“TROUBLE IN PARASIDE MY GOOD FRIEND?”

It takes courage because they all know what will happen next. There is an enraged yell from somewhere in the mass of paper as it seems Kiba was expelling right into Naruto ear, there is a thick thump, from which the flashing vision of a fist can be seen, and a yelping Kiba falls backwards, rubbing his nose which sports an ink splotch at the tip.

Shikamaru seizes the chance to dodge around the edge of the desk, the commotion causing the papers to spill like a white tide over the floor, and suddenly the air is filled with a tumultuous confusion of dancing white papers like Lilly petals swirling and dashing on eddies.

Naruto stands, looking outraged and thoroughly angry as he catches sight of Shikamaru around the corner of his desk, laughing at him and the mess. In blind anger he moves at him, guided only by his feet, and this is the moment Kiba has been waiting for. He jumps up and over the desk, batting papers from the air, seizes Naruto about the middle and sends him crashing to the floor (unfortunately) on top of Shikamaru. They all lie there, breathing heavily, absolutely breathless, uncomfortable and covered in paper cuts.

“Good afternoon Uzumaki,” Kiba says into Naruto’s shoulder. His hands are on some bodies upper thighs and he wiggles them experimentally. Shikamaru twists to knee him in the chest.

“You guys,” Naruto hisses in his best I-am-so-pissed-at-both-of-you-right-now-you-just-wouldn’t-believe-it voice “I am seeing stars.”

“I can’t feel my feet…” Shikamaru says in a half wondering voice, “so I can’t really help you there.” A solitary piece of paper flutters over-head and settles neatly on his face.

“Oh bollocks.” They hear him mutter from beneath inky scrawled handwriting. “Naruto, you filled this out all wrong.”

“I-DON’T-CARE-ANYMORE!” Naruto announces fiercely, turning a sentence into a grossly over-syllabled word; meanwhile trying to wriggle out of Kiba’s pinning grasp. The wolfish boy’s arms are still linked like a vice around his hips as if he’s never ever letting go.

“What is it anyway?” Kiba muffles, now talking into the blonde haired youths stomach.

“A form of some sort.” Shikamaru (with effort) reaches up and picks it from atop his nose and blinkingly inspects it.

“Don’t look!” Naruto shouts; he kicks at Kiba harder but those arms must be held on by something stronger then superglue because he doesn’t yield in the slightest. If anything the grip gets tighter and they all get more tangled up as Naruto reaches forwards, sprawled flat on his stomach like a lame cow with a huge limpet stuck to it’s back. Shikamaru meanwhile leans back, trying to read the whatever-it-is underneath the combined body weight.

He wonders vaguely, if he’s ruptured his spleen.

They all wiggle for a moment longer before it turns into a full-fisted brawl, and it’s a very odd sight to behold. Choji ambles in halfway through to pick up something he’s left behind: in the confusion nobody notices and in the shouting nobody hears his exclamation of “What in hell?” before he turns promptly and marches straight back out the way he came again, shouting after Ino: “He’s doing it again!”

“It’s an ANBU form!” Shikamaru shouts down to Kiba after another minute of struggling. Naruto slumps down, sweating and swearing into the hard wooden tiles. It’s entirely too much activity for Shikamaru: he’s going to skive the rest of the day off, find a tree to sit under and go to sleep.

“A what?” Kiba asks, and he sits straight up from his waist, relinquishing his super-human grip and snatching the paper out of Shikamaru’s hands.

“You told us you weren’t going to…”he says in an accusatory tone of voice. “You talked to Kakashi-sensei about it and he said you just weren’t cut out for this sort of thing! They‘re looking for a much more violent type then you are… Naruto… Naruto? Are you listening?”

“Yeah well,” the blonde snarls from the floor, one arm draped over his blue eyes so they can only see his mouth, twisted back into an expression of inner revulsion. “Maybe you guys don’t know me as well as you think you do.”

Kiba blanches, “You know bullshit makes me sick- Maru, what the hell is he talking about?”

Shikamaru kneads his forehead with his knuckles and lets out a long sigh. This is entirely too bothersome for his liking- all he really wants to do is watch the clouds pass over-head and maybe doze off for a while, but he knows it’s not an option. It’s not integrity that’s calling him to act; it’s a friend, and a close one at that.

“Naruto Uzumaki,” he says in an even, patient voice, “what did he say to you?”

“Didn’t say anything,” comes the muffled, awkwardly stubborn reply.

“Who said what?” Kiba asks, looking confused.

He is again ignored. Shikamaru’s not playing this game, he’s not a fan of having his time wasted by entirely pointless things that take up his energy. “Naruto, either you tell me or I’m never treating you to ramen again.”

There’s a pause.

“Ever.” For extra effect.

Then a quick silence.

“What happened, Naruto?”

“We’re not…” the words come slowly and with some difficulty, lying on top and underneath him, both Kiba and Shikamaru can feel Naruto tense, every muscle in his body seems to clench as he sucks in air. “I’m not really speaking to him.”

“Really?”

“No,” Naruto says, and his voice is rather distant as his memory travels backwards, seeming to hitch and replay over and over again. “Not until he apologises.”

“Oh…” says Kiba helpfully, “so you guys will never speak again then?”

Once again the penalty for stupidity is to be kicked painfully in the ribs. “What’s he apologising for?” Shikamaru asks curiously as Kiba writhes around for a bit, thoroughly winded.

“It was- I was… It’s stupid really.”

“Stupid enough to make you mad?”

“Maybe… I don’t know. Silly thing is most of it… all of it’s probably true anyway. I thought maybe I was hiding things from myself or hiding in things and I just hadn’t realised. I’m an idiot, I’m just too stupid to see it.” He removes the hand from his face and they see in his expression, something that makes them worried, a self-defeating look that slips down the sliding slope into nothingness and despair. They hang on tender-hooks now they can see him falling closer inch by inch.

“You can’t change people I guess, they’ll always stay the same… no matter how much you… how much or how hard you try…”

“Oh Gawd.” Kiba snorts and he punches Naruto hard on the shoulder so his head slams forcefully into the floor. “You sound just like Neji!”

“You’re being ridiculous, listen, how do you think you got here anyway? By luck? If it was then you sure as hell used up all the luck there is in the world because through all logical thinking now, you really should be dead.” Both Shikamaru and Kiba shake Naruto firmly by the shoulders as if trying to dislodge his brain and smash some sense into it. “Stuff whatever Sasuke says, do you hear? He doesn’t even have to stay with you much longer, you heard Tsunade! Another month and if he’s not dead then he’s clear to be moved and Kakashi will be back and everything will be back to normal again!”

“We can only hope he dies…” mutters Shikamaru, looking dreamily up at the ceiling. Kiba shivers and counts on his fingers, “One bad Karma, two bad karma, three bad karma four. Five bad karma, six bad karma, seven bad karma more….” It’s a nervous habit.

It’s weird, Naruto thinks, to have your two best friends simultaneously trying to cheer you up in two dynamically different ways. Like paint and glue it sticks and coats him until he’s fighting down something in his throat and biting his tongue hard to stop himself from saying something stupid. Whatever Sasuke says, he’s not alone… he’s just not. Not now, not ever. Never ever again.

“Naruto?” the voice from above, it’s Kiba and he sounds worried, “You’re not…you know…crying are you?”

“No,” Naruto says entirely too defensively to be believed, as he takes a extended shuddering breath in, “of course I’m not.”

“You’re a damned girl.” Kiba mutters, his hands still firmly putting pressure on his shoulders and somewhere behind them Shikamaru collapses into a limp lump on the floor and closes his eyes scattering sheets like snowflakes. (Damn it got messy in here.)

Naruto raises his arm from his eyes which are dry and a clear unyielding innocent blue, and knees Kiba in a certain unmentionable place who gives a small “Oh!” before collapsing all over Naruto’s left shoulder and moans that he wants to die.

“Whose crying now?” he mutters, grinning.

++++++++++

Sasuke Uchiha freezes as the front door clangs open. His heart begins to beat marginally faster as he bids a sudden and hasty retreat into the nearest bathroom and wishes that the air didn’t seem so thick.

He turns on the taps and sticks his pale hands under, watching as the substance goes swirling down the drains and yet more seeps back up to the surface again like a molten eruption. He bites down savagely on his lower lip, his mind feels a little hazy and slightly disorientated but his thoughts are as keen as ever. He’s spent the day searching for a way out and he thinks now he just might have found one, but it’ll be no good if the idiot just walks in here and sees him like this because… because….

Sasuke tenses as he hears footsteps on the stairs, and strains to listen for how many: if it’s Naruto and co. he’s in big trouble, but Naruto himself, by himself, he can handle. For a moment the footsteps dwindle and then stop. Sasuke wills them to continue: “We’re not talking,” he mutters, “You’re angry with me, just leave me the hell alone.”

And for a while nothing happens and Sasuke wonders why Naruto just doesn’t keep on walking until he realises by looking at the medicine cabinet that shit it’s not his bathroom.

At the same time he moves to the door to lock it shut it’s shouldered open, and the blonde tresses framing that bold face with remarkably pure blue eyes moves in, mouth frowning, displeased. “Get the hell out!” form on his lips before he registers… and then halts, and does so completely, because he suddenly panics, and falls back against the door which swings shut behind him, clicking solidly closed.

“Sasuke,” he says on the out breath, in tones below a whisper, “what the hell happened?”

The Uchiha looks down at the basin. The white tiles are covered in thick clots of deep crimson, and little pools of blood slide in carmine rivulets down the sides, and the water is turned a deep pink.

He gives a smile, the sort you might see from a snake before it bites you: slow, unfathomable and infinitely dangerous, inky black eyes impossibly dark and somewhat devouring. Naruto presses his spine back flat against the door.

“…Are you sure you want to know?”

The question hangs.

++++

Plot starts to pick up from here on out- chapter ends with a cliff hanger, sorry!

Thank you for all your support!

Acacia