SHINE A LIGHT

Part Two: The Spaces Inbetween

It wasn’t enough.

He had tried training (which he had never been very good at by himself; his eyes kept straying back to the house—specifically, its kitchen).  He had tried rearranging his shinobi equipment and cleaning it until it shone in preparation for his coming mission; he had even gone to his mother to plead for an errand or two to occupy his time (she had told him cheerfully that nothing needed to be done and promptly shoved some delicious-smelling concoction under his nose).  It did no good telling himself that he had already partaken of a fairly large breakfast not too long ago or trying to imagine Ino’s face when she found out.  Even the thought that this had been one of Asuma-sensei’s dying wishes for him failed to quell the growing sense of emptiness in his large stomach, a thought that created a tremor in his heart which took more than a few seconds to go away.

It was ten in the morning and Akimichi Chouji was hungry.

Having decided that the sensation was just unbearable—did other people, he wondered, feel the splitting pain he felt when his stomach cried out for more?—he sighed, trudging over to the front door to pull on his shoes.  He must, of course, go see Shikamaru—each time he consciously ended a diet (as opposed to the times he would have about three okonomiyakis in his mouth at once before he came back to earth and heard Ino’s shrieking) he went to see Shikamaru.  It was a ritual that they had been implementing for years; Shikamaru, Chouji reasoned, was his best friend.  Shikamaru would always be his best friend.  Each time Chouji had broken off a diet—even that time when they were still in the academy that he had shown up at Shikamaru’s house in tears, sobbing about how he just couldn’t do it, that he would never be able to get anyone to like him—Shikamaru had looked him square in the eye and said, “So what?”  So what if you’re fat?  Either way, it doesn’t change who you are.

It was with this warm glow in his chest that Chouji descended upon the Nara house, a leftover box of that morning’s breakfast clutched under his arm (it was unlikely with his mother, but the dark thought had crossed his mind that Shikamaru wouldn’t have anything in his house to eat—and Shikamaru liked Chouji’s mother’s cooking).  The door was opened by Shikaku, who nodded wordlessly toward his son’s room—in which Chouji found Shikamaru sitting hunched over on the side of the bed, looking for all the world like he had just woken up.

Shikamaru looked up at him groggily, his unbound hair covering most of his face.  “Chouji…?”

Chouji grinned and tossed him the box.  “Morning, Shikamaru!”

“... Ummm.  Yeah.”  Shikamaru peeled the lid off and raised his eyebrows at Chouji.  “Already?”

Chouji gave him a disapproving look.  “You want some or not?”

Shikamaru made a noncommittal noise and nonetheless took the pair of chopsticks Chouji handed him, breaking them apart as Chouji settled onto his bed on the other side of the sizable box, leaning against the wall.  The two ate in silence for a few minutes, Shikamaru with noticeably less zest than his best friend, before Chouji, pausing to breathe, spared the Nara boy an inquisitive glance.  He hadn’t really expected him to still be asleep—it wasn’t too late, sure, but Shikamaru wasn’t one to laze around in bed for hours (he generally found much more interesting places to do it).  His eyes, however, peculiarly dead-looking and underlined in purple, spoke revealingly of sleep deprivation.  “You okay, Shikamaru?”

“Fine.”  Shikamaru didn’t bother to look up, pushing his food around the container with a solitary chopstick.  “You know… Ino would probably date you if you were skinny.”

Chouji frowned at him, almost forgetting to swallow in his shock.  “I don’t want to date Ino.”

Shikamaru glanced his way then—a short, dull look that could not have been more expressionless had he tried.  “Yeah, I know.”  He swallowed another bite of Chouji’s breakfast before setting his chopsticks done and leaning against the wall as Chouji was doing.  “I’m just saying.”

Chouji’s frown intensified as he looked at Shikamaru in profile; with his hair loose and his eyes so heavy-lidded and stoic, he looked so un-Shikamaru-like that he couldn’t help feeling a chill.  He reminded Chouji of someone, but he couldn’t think… “Why would you bring that up?”

Shikamaru paused, as if he were actually considering.  “I don’t know.”  He sighed and ran a hand through his hair.  “I’m tired.”

Chouji raised his eyebrows.  “Late night?”

“More like an early morning.”  Shikamaru rubbed one of his shoulders, trying to get the kinks out of it.  “I had to take a note over to Naruto’s house at the crack of dawn, which got way more complicated than it needed to be…”

Chouji returned his gaze to the food at a subtle encouragement from his stomach.  Shikamaru was beginning to seem more like himself.  “‘Complicated’?”

“Mmm…”  Shikamaru rubbed his eyes.  “Kiba and Hinata showed up out of nowhere when I was coming out of the Hokage’s office and Ino flagged us down when we passed her house… I don’t even know where that Sai guy came from…”  He shrugged.  “And then… you know… Naruto.”

Chouji chuckled.  “So you came back home and slept?”

“Tried.”  That distant look had returned to his eye—Chouji watched him carefully—before he sighed and got to his feet, tying some of his hair into a knot at the back of his head.  “Might as well get up, I guess.”  He looked over his shoulder at Chouji.  “Don’t you and Ino have a mission today?”

Chouji nodded, hastily packing the remainder of their breakfast into the box.  Ino again… “Did she tell you that?”

“She mentioned it.”  Shikamaru sighed again—a sound that was less annoyance and more frustrated exhaustion than Chouji could say he was used to—and rubbed the back of his head as he swept his perceptive eyes over the box Chouji was tucking under his arm.  “You’re going?”

“… Yeah.  That mission…”  Chouji got to his feet, scratching his head and smiling as he tried not to meet Shikamaru’s eyes.  “I’ve got to get home and start packing if I’m gonna have time for lunch.”

“… Is it big?”

Chouji spared a glance at him.  Shikamaru was still staring out the window.  “Huh?”

“The mission.  Is it a big one?”

“Oh… oh, no, not at all—just an escort job—we should be back tomorrow afternoon at the latest.”

Shikamaru smiled—so faintly Chouji almost missed it.  “That’s good.”

The smile Chouji returned was troubled.  “… Shikamaru?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you…?”  Chouji shifted the box under his arm, his gaze happening to fall on Shikamaru’s bedside clock—it was time he left.  He felt strange.  He had always relied so strongly on Shikamaru’s strength for simply being himself, and now… “Is there anything you want me to tell her?  Ino?”

“No.”  Shikamaru’s tone had gone flat.  “She can take care of herself.”

Chouji nodded uncertainly—his eyes swept over Shikamaru’s strange pallor, the fiercely disinterested expression playing about his face—and the overwhelming feeling that he should say something was overturned only by the fact that he didn’t know what to say.  “… Okay, well, I guess I’ll… I’ll see you later, Shikamaru.”

Shikamaru didn’t move.  “Yeah.”

And so Chouji left.

It was only when he was nearly home that he stopped short for realization of whom it was Shikamaru had reminded him of—he stumbled and almost dropped his box under the sudden revelation that the person his best friend had so resembled was none other than Uchiha Sasuke.

+

“I don’t really like him, you know.”  Ino gave Hinata her sunniest, most reassuring smile, leaning against the tree in the academy backyard that the Hyuuga girl had finally caught up to her by.  “You don’t have to worry about that.”

For the first couple of minutes Hinata had followed the blonde silently, waiting for her rage to slowly diminish—and as her footsteps became lighter and her fists less clenched the Yamanaka girl had become aware of the pale, dark-haired shadow trailing dutifully behind her.  It was annoying, on some level, that such blatant relief could wash over the other girl’s face at the simple knowledge that some other girl had no romantic interest in the boy of her dreams—how long had Hinata harbored this obsessive crush on Naruto without saying so much as a word to him?  How long would she continue to watch him without confronting him, without telling him how she really felt…?

It was annoying, that was all.

“Oh!” Hinata’s face turned a bright red that was, Ino realized, as unsolicited as the abject relief that was still lifting the corners of her mouth into a smile.  “Oh… I—I don’t… I mean—”

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Ino said dismissively, a chuckle that was not unkind escaping her lips as she waved away the Hyuuga girl’s concerns.  “We all know about it.”

Hinata looked horrified.  “‘All’…?”

“... Oh.  Except for him, of course.  Naruto’s not all that bright.”  Ino couldn’t help but wince.  Perhaps her reassurances weren’t quite as gentle as she had attempted to make them.  “But really… really,” she said firmly, capturing Hinata’s hesitant gaze, “I don’t like him like that.  He’s a great shinobi and everything, and… and he’s gotten pretty…”  Hot.  Sexy.  Unbelievably gorgeous.  “… okay-looking, but… you know… you guys’ll end up together, I’m sure.”  She gave Hinata a look that was almost serious.  “Working in a flower shop for your whole life gives you this whole sixth sense about romance, you know?  And with you guys… I can tell.  You’re meant to be together.  I swear it.”

Hinata’s shoulders hunched even further as she dropped to her knees, letting out a long, shaky sigh that was either of intense relief or weary trepidation.  Ino hadn’t thought it was possible for someone to look so insecure.  “I… that’s…”  Hinata shook her head slowly.  “T-Thank you, but… for Naruto-kun and I… s-something like that isn’t—“

“Of course it’s possible,” Ino said abruptly, crossing her arms over her ample chest (though not as ample, she couldn’t help but notice, as Hinata’s—if she had a gift like that she wouldn’t spend all of her time in sweatshirts).  “You just have to have a little faith in yourself, and in him.  A little guts, a little courage.”  She grinned.  “This is the reason why kunoichi have to work twice as hard, right?”

“I…”  Hinata blushed, looking as if she wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that.  “It’s just that N-Naruto-kun has… he has so much to worry about nowadays, and… to burden him with something else, I couldn’t—”

“HINATA!”

The Hyuuga girl couldn’t help but jump and let out a little ‘eep’ of surprise as Ino dropped to her kneeds and grabbed her arm.  Her eyes were a steely blue—although her features were fairer and more delicate Hinata couldn’t help but liken her to a certain other blue-eyed blond.  “I-Ino… san…?”

“Never think of yourself as a burden,” Ino said almost harshly, her grip tightening on the other kunoichi’s forearm.  “Not to a guy.  Not to anyone else.”

Hinata stared at her, the similarities between Naruto and the girl standing in front of her having not quite disappeared.  “… I…”

Ino’s eyes narrowed.  “Say ‘yes’.”

“Yes,” Hinata whispered, and Ino released her; rubbing her arm absently, Hinata continued to watch Ino with pale, troubled eyes.  It was hardly a new sentiment—Kiba had been telling her the same thing every other week for the last three years—but coming from another kunoichi, a girl with the very same hopes and dreams… it was a new and not unwelcome feeling.  She had never really had friends at the academy due to both her intimidating position as heir to the Hyuuga main house and her extreme shyness, so to be smiled at like this—for Ino’s intense stare had metamorphosed into a cheerful grin—was… well, it was definitely different.  Hinata found herself smiling back—it was small and awkward, but a smile nonetheless.

“There you go!”  Ino laughed and clapped Hinata on the back.  “You just have to learn to have a little more self-confidence.”

“… Yes.”  Hinata’s eyes dropped to the ground, the smile still playing about her lips.  “That was what… what I l-liked about him in the f-first place.  He always had so much confidence in himself, no matter what people said about him.”

 “… That’s cool.”  Ino’s grin had sagged a little, eyeing Hinata almost quizzically.  “Liking someone because of their personality, I mean.  I guess you’re a little different than me, but show me a hot guy and I’m just… gone.”  She laughed self-consciously and rubbed the back of her head.  “That’s bad, isn’t it?”

Hinata’s eyebrows furrowed.  “You mean you don’t like… I mean…”  She blushed a little, feeling Ino’s eyes lock onto her.  “There isn’t anyone you have f-feelings for… that you don’t like just for his looks…?”

“I guess not.”  Ino chuckled uncertainly.  She looked as though she wasn’t sure whether to downplay the situation or not.  “There have been so many guys I’ve liked that you’d think there would be somebody, but I… I just haven’t clicked with anyone… I guess.”  She looked moodily at the ground.  “Maybe I should just give up my ideas about the perfect romance.”

Hinata shrugged hesitantly, once again not entirely sure what to say.  A short silence passed between them before Ino sighed and got to her feet, making a show of brushing off her clothes as she did so.  “… Well!  I’ve got a mission this afternoon, and it’s probably getting close to lunch time.  I was supposed to meet Chouji in town.”

Hinata nodded slowly, her eyes downcast.  “Oh.”

“Do you want to come, too?”

“… I…”  The Hyuuga girl blinked up at her uncertainly, wide-eyed.  “I-I don’t…”

“Come on.”  Ino grinned and extended a hand.  “Chouji’s supposed to be on a diet, but I bet he’s broken it by now, so I’m sure he’ll pay for us.  What have you got to lose?”

Hinata’s hesitated for only a moment more before she took Ino’s hand and got to her feet.  “… Okay.”  She still had questions—what Ino thought the relationship between Naruto and Sakura was, for instance, or perhaps even something unbelievably bold in terms of how to go about capturing Naruto’s heart—but she was hungry, and her queries could always be answered another time.  For there would be another time.  She would, Hinata realized with a certainty she hadn’t often felt, see Ino again, and soon.

+

As Chouji and Shikamaru teetered on the edge of an upset in their friendship and Ino and Hinata began one anew Sakura found herself alone, sitting on the edge of a bridge she had not had occasion to visit for nearly three years.

She couldn’t go home.  That had become glaringly obvious the instant she had stepped foot on her street; a few more glancing memories of the previous night had flashed before her eyes and a sudden, violent fear of being boxed in had left her turning away abruptly, walking swiftly down a side street to escape the unnerving fear that one of her parents would somehow spot her.  She no longer had the ambiguous cover of night, and having to confront them in the light would undoubtedly rid her of both her conviction and the inability to see things from their side…

Sakura sighed and tossed a leaf into the stream, watching her reflection distort slowly in the path of its ripples.  This wasn’t fair.  She wasn’t used to this.

For three years she had done nothing much but train, only occasionally seeing Ino or Kakashi-sensei or one of the other shinobi she knew.  The absence of both Naruto and Sasuke in her life since she was twelve had rid her of the interpersonal relationships with people her own age that other young shinobi usually developed, lacking as she did anything concrete in the way of teammates.  It hadn’t been lonely, exactly—there hadn’t been time for that—but the slight jealousy that she had felt whenever Ino complained about Chouji’s eating habits or Shikamaru’s laziness was evident, perhaps, of the fact that she had been affected by it more than she let herself accept.  In any case, she hadn’t had to worry about issues with her parents or friends up until this point simply because it hadn’t been an issue—but now that Naruto was back…

Ever since the Uzumaki boy’s return to Konoha she had kept her analysis of what she felt about him at bay.  Of his character she was certain—Naruto was brave, selfless, passionate, and any convictions she herself held, she could freely admit, paled in the face of his stark determination.  As a teammate he was unmatchable.  But her opinion of Naruto as a person, as her friend… that she found herself shying away from even as she touched upon it.  For so long, even in their absence, Naruto had been goofy and annoying, stationary but definitely a side character, while Sasuke had been cool yet aloof, her elusive Prince Charming—to even think about changing her fundamental impressions of either of them was more than she could handle at the moment.

And Sasuke…

She frowned and leaned her head on her hand, grabbing a fistful of hair in her frustration.  Sasuke was perhaps even more difficult to think about, considering she could not freely imagine a Sasuke that she wasn’t infatuated with.  She had, after all, spent something like the last seven years of her life watching him wistfully from afar.  But now, after he had been gone for so long and—the thought still caused a definite pang in her chest—rejected Konoha and everyone in it with such finality, it was hard to think of Sasuke as quite the same boy she had fallen for all those years ago.  Seeing him at Orochimaru’s lair, she thought suddenly, was what had made her realize it—that things would not, could not possibly go back to the way they had been even were they eventually able to bring him back home.  She gripped the sides of the bridge hard as she unknowingly glared into the water; his uncaring eyes as he looked at her, the casual way he had called her name… he had always been cold to her, yes, but she had never before gotten the impression that he truly didn’t care about her one way or the other.  After three years his only reaction to her presence had been an indifferent “Oh, it’s Sakura”—and after Naruto had shown up, he hadn’t paid any attention to her at all…

“Oh, shi—AKAMARU!”

Sakura had barely looked up before receiving a faceful of tongue; the impact nearly flung her off the bridge before she steadied herself and got out of range of the massive white beast that was now whining and licking at her outstretched hands.  The attention was not entirely unwanted; she was laughing as Kiba landed in a crouching position on the bridge beside them, his face the very picture of exasperation.  “Goddamn, Akamaru, don’t jump on people like that.  You’re not that little anymore, you know?”

Sakura curbed her giggles as she reached out to pat Akamaru on his vast head.  “He forgets a lot, huh?”

“You have no idea,” Kiba muttered before swinging himself onto the ground beside her.  “So what’s up?  Naruto get tired of your company?”

Sakura’s expression soured as she regarded him severely—Kiba stared insolently back, not giving an inch—before she sighed and crossed her arms over her chest.  “Don’t be a jerk.  And you know he wouldn’t say anything even if he did.  I was just… walking.  Thinking.”  She paused.  “Old memories, I guess.”

Kiba gave a short bark of a laugh.  “Okay, I get it.  I won’t ask.”  Kiba had been part of the team that had originally gone to retrieve Sasuke; he had almost died in the process.  He knew, like all of them, that it was a bit of a touchy subject for both Naruto and Sakura; she remembered how right after Sasuke and, consequently, Naruto had left they had all treated her as if she were made of glass, as if the slightest reminder of either of them would break her into pieces…

Well, that was old news; it didn’t matter anymore.  And she had been busy with training.

“You weren’t following me, were you?” she asked Kiba sternly.  She wasn’t sure why he and Ino weren’t better friends; they seemed to share a morbid curiosity in issues that decidedly weren’t their business.

Kiba snorted.  “God, no.  You’re not that interesting.  I was just wandering around and saw you sitting here and… you know.”  He fidgeted for a moment before turning his expectant gaze back on her.  “You didn’t seriously sleep with Naruto, did you?”

“No!” Sakura exclaimed, one of her fists curling.  She could feel her face reddening.  “You… you ass!  You don’t just ask people questions like that in public!”  She lowered her voice.  “I… I had a bad night, so I went over to Naruto’s and he said I could stay.”  She didn’t happen to mention that her going over to Naruto’s apartment wasn’t exactly a common practice.

Kiba frowned at her.  “That’s it?”

“Yes,” she said forcefully, and turned away, the blush still not quite banished from her face.  Naruto hadn’t been making things up about her, had he?  I’ll have his ass if he has been—

“Well, would you?”

Sakura looked Kiba’s way again, noting—suspiciously—that he had relocated to the other side of the bridge and was scratching Akamaru’s neck in a facsimile of carelessness.  “Theoretically,” he added, seeing her face.  “If the time were right, and… you know…”

Sakura’s eyes narrowed.  “Would I what?”

Kiba couldn’t quite prevent a feral twitch from widening his grin.  “Sleep with Naruto.”

Between Sakura’s furious growl as she ran at him, fist raised, and Kiba’s strangled laughter interspersed with shouts of “I was kidding!  Kidding!  Damn, Sakura!”, neither of them seemed to realize that she hadn’t bothered to answer the question.

+

Naruto, for his part, was busily concocting the first cup ramen of the day, standing defiantly in front of the microwave with his arms crossed over his chest.  If he stood still, he thought tersely, if he just stared at his ramen and didn’t move, his stature might somehow cancel out the presence of the boy who was still, still, in his kitchen, lounging in a chair at the table and watching him with doey black eyes.  Naruto’s hands tightened on his arms as he watched the digital numbers on the microwave tick down.  One minute forty seconds… one minute thirty-nine seconds…

“Naruto.”  The abomination spoke and Naruto twitched, his brow furrowing as he stared unblinkingly at the microwave.  “I’m so hungry, Naruto.”

Naruto let out a mumble that sounded vaguely like “fuck you,” but could not have been mistaken as actual conversation; if he spoke to the asshole he would take it as an invitation not to get the hell out.  One minute thirty-one seconds… one minute thirty seconds…

“Is some of that for me?”

Naruto whirled around and bore down on the intruder as if he had just noticed he were there, fists clenched at his sides.  “You—!  Why the hell are you still here?  Go away!”

Sai smiled prettily at him.  “You don’t want that.”

“The hell I don’t!  You never do anything but cause me problems!”  Naruto slammed his fist on the table, angrily but not hard enough to do it any damage, and glared daggers at Sai.  “Leave!”

Sai still stared at him, but the playful air was gone from his gaze; Naruto’s heart dropped into his stomach and he found he could not move away, instead opting to lower himself into a chair next to Sai’s.  He should not have said anything.  He should not have even acknowledged him; it was never any good as soon as Sai got like this…

“I wish you’d tell me what happened last night,” Sai said in a low voice that still salvaged some of his silky tone.

“It wasn’t anything—we didn’t—she just needed—” On seeing the look on Sai’s face Naruto let out a nervous laugh despite himself.  “You’re not actually jealous, are you?”

“Does that surprise you?”  Sai said quietly.

The silence that followed was long and painfully awkward; Sai continued just to look at Naruto while Naruto stared blankly at the table, unsure as to how a statement like that should even make him feel, much less what he actually felt about it.  “L-Listen,” he said finally.  “I’m not good at… at feelings and stuff like that, and I—you—it’s not—nothing happened,” he finished heatedly, seeing Sai’s eyebrows shoot up at his stuttering.  He hated talking to Sai like this, just the two of them; it made him feel stupid and tongue-tied and hot.  He hated his eyes.  “I don’t… I don’t even know why she came over last night, all right?  She just showed up at my door all… all drenched and miserable-looking and… and I kind of felt like I shouldn’t ask questions or anything, so I gave her some dry clothes and let her sleep in my bed and that was it.”  He said this last part in a rush, his eyes on the table again.  “I thought you would have been able to figure that out.  You know, when I was talking to Sakura-chan before.”

“Maybe.”  Naruto saw Sai’s fingers drum the table and lifted his head just enough to see the other shinobi’s face; the usual half-smile was back in place.  “I think I just wanted to hear it from you.”

Naruto gave an aggravated sigh and leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest.  “Jesus.  Do you have to make me feel like… like…”

“Like a husband trying to explain himself to his wife?”  Sai said mildly.

“No!”  Naruto kicked him in the shin under the table and got to his feet, stomping over to the microwave to claim his ramen, which by now had probably gone all soggy and lukewarm and disgusting (it was all that jackass’s fault).  Stirring it furiously in an attempt to make it taste a little better, he chanced a glare over at Sai (whom was now staring innocuously at the ceiling despite the grin that kept threatening to lift the corners of his mouth).  “Ass.  You ass.  Now that you’ve made a total fool of me, can you get the hell out of my apartment?”  He took a sip of ramen and made a face.

“Oh, I don’t know.”  Sai drummed his fingers irritatingly on the table.  “I don’t really have anything else to do today.”

“God.”  Naruto took another sip of ramen before slamming the cup violently on the counter.  “God dammit!”

Sai quirked an eyebrow at him.  “… Lunch out?”

Naruto crossed his arms over his chest and looked away, seething.  “Fuck you.”

+

By the time Shikamaru had emerged from his house, blinking owlishly in the light of day, it was roughly noon and a plaintive whine had commenced somewhere around his upper gut.  It didn’t make sense that he was so hungry, considering he had eaten a good amount of Chouji’s food before his best friend had made his hasty exit, but bodily functions were one thing Shikamaru never cared to think too much about; if he was hungry, he would find something to eat.  As he wandered up to the restaurant that he and his teammates frequented, however, he was not quite prepared to see both of them—and then some—standing outside: Ino berating Chouji about, supposedly, the abandoned diet, as he half-abashedly rubbed the back of his head; Hinata, of all people, at Ino’s side, looking half sorry for Chouji, half delighted at being included; Kiba, standing a little bit away as he swatted Akamaru in the head and told him, assumedly, that he was too big to come inside and not to eat any passing small children; and, closest to him, Sakura, Sai, and Naruto, whose behavior was surprisingly nothing out of the ordinary.  Shikamaru spared a passing glance at Sakura and Naruto, but they didn’t appear to be acting any differently towards each other; in fact, Sakura appeared to be laying into him for something he probably hadn’t done, which he imagined was a pretty common occurrence.  They weren’t particularly his concern, though; what was bothering him at the moment was the precise likelihood that a vast meeting like this would happen twice in the space of half a day.

“What the hell,” he said.

Eight heads, including Akamaru’s, turned his way at the sound of his voice.  Ino brightened and said, “Shikamaru!” as she headed towards him, whereas Chouji managed a small smile, their earlier meeting obviously still weighing on his mind, and the others managed some sort of greeting.  Shikamaru looked in vague amazement at each of them as Ino got hold of his arm and dragged him into the midst of the group.  “Was this planned, or…?”

“Hell no,” Kiba said as he joined them.  “We were hungry.”

“All right,” Shikamaru said, looking around again at everyone assembled, “all right, but—”

“Oh, come on, Shikamaru,” Ino’s voice grated once again in his ear.  She seemed to have completely forgotten their earlier exchange—not that he had expected her to bring it up in front of everyone, but considering her usual high-strung attitude… to everything… it was a little confusing.  Her only real difference in conduct towards him was that she had yet to let go of him, though her grip had slackened and moved a little farther down his arm.  Perhaps she had noticed the discrepancy as well, as she let go of him a little too quickly to be nonchalant.  “Can’t we all happen to meet somewhere to eat lunch?  As friends?”

Shikamaru looked her straight in the eye, then caught Chouji’s eye from behind Hinata, who smiled at him again; this time it was a little bigger, and a little more genuine.  “Yeah.  I guess.”

“Good,” Naruto said darkly.  “I’m fucking hungry.”

Sakura regarded him with raised eyebrows (perhaps forgetting the fact that she had been shouting vulgarities in his apartment that very morning).  “What’s wrong with you?”

“I ruined his ramen,” Sai said sweetly.

There was a communal snort and Kiba, laughing, whacked Sai on the back in a decidedly brotherly fashion.  “Shit, dude, he must like you; you’d be dead now otherwise…”

Kiba earned an unusually violent punch from Naruto at this, which he skirted as he ran into the restaurant, and the rest of the group began to file in after him, talking loudly and being generally chummy.  Shikamaru was the last one in; his gaze, turning from Ino as she went to rejoin Hinata, landed, as it often did, on the sky—today a spotless, sunny blue.  The sun was flying high in the sky, and he lifted a hand to shield his eyes from its light.

This can’t last.