I own nothing.

She's like Ino, but with green eyes and ten times more vibrant and vivid than Ino has ever been. And then, again, she's nothing like Ino, because where Ino is as pale as the moon Temari is gold like the sun. She has the smell of desert spices on her, a thousand different scents Choji knows he'll never be able to identify. He tries anyway.

The word "infatuation" springs to mind. Choji goes over what he knows about "infatuation": foolish, all-encompassing passion. It's a fitting description for a fitting word.

Foolish, all-encompassing passion. Choji knows he's a fool, because she's never so much as looked at him once. Never seen him as him. Temari of the desert places sees Shikamaru's teammate, sees the Leaf chunin, never goes beyond that. Too busy running everywhere, controlling everything, blazing in and out like the sun on its journey over the sky.

Oh, yeah, she'll definitely never notice him. Of this Choji is certain. But in a way, that's alright. He just likes to look at her.

Temari walks by the awning he stands under and she never takes her eyes from straight in front of her. She never even notices that she's being looked at.

Powerful, tall, straight-backed with her shoulders bent a little to the back. She walks like she's never ducked away from danger in her life.

Choji drinks the sake and sighs.

Infatuation's the best word possible to use, because she's made an utter fool out of him.