To Ten: Thank you for your lovely reviews! :DD I'm glad you're enjoying this one. *big hug*

Enjoy! This is the last chapter :)

NEJI

"Neji would have hated how formal it was," Tenten said softly the night of his funeral, and Shikamaru rolled away from her, deflated, frustrated.

He shared her with a ghost.

His lips were raw, cracked, from kissing her. Her touch, the rhythm of her body still hummed against his, etched in his skin.

He ran a hand over his face and glanced sideways at her.

Tenten didn't bother to readjust her kimono. She was dressed in the shadows of the trees. Silk and hair spilled around her. His hands shook, gripping at strands of grass. She had crossed her kimono right over left.

Like a corpse.

Like Neji.

"I thought I wouldn't want to look at the sky anymore," she said and squinted briefly, tilting her head farther back.

Shikamaru sat up and shook the loose grass out of his hair and kimono. 'I shouldn't have come,' he thought.

There was no moon, no stars.

"It's always there," Shikamaru grunted, uncharitable, talking mostly to himself.

It was always there, the sky dividing Neji and Shikamaru over her. Light and shadows. Birds and clouds. He simply couldn't help chasing him too, across the shape of her face tilted up. Across stars and the bluest sky that faded.

Neji died, and the sky was extinguished.

"It should be falling," Tenten still sighed.

Her lips barely moved.

Her chest barely heaved.

Shikamaru paused, hand on the ground, eyes on her. She looked peaceful.

His anger twisted and boiled inside him.

'She's not saying goodbye,' he thought and next to anger, there was terror lodged in his heart. 'I should have won.'

("I wanted to win against him," he admits, days later, and avoids her gaze.

Tenten sharpens, gaze and face, half-rising from the bed.

"You said, you didn't care," she says icily.

He avoids her hands.

"Shika..." she snaps.

Her soul is steel. Her body is iron. She would never bend, never admit, which one has won her heart first. Which one she loves most. She is both weapon and amour, sharp edges that don't give in. They cut and cut.

Through his heart, they cut and cut.

His feet meet the floor, and he is up. And he is gone.

Neji still haunts him.

Neji still haunts them.)

The darkness deepened, the shadows of the trees stretching past him, but she remained in open field. With trembling fingers, Shikamaru patted himself down until he found the package of cigarettes.

"Can I have one?"

Shikamaru startled.

As always, he hadn't seen her move or approach him until she was crouching next to him. Tenten smiled, amused, but her smile never reached her eyes.

She reached forward and took the unlit cigarette dangling from his lips.

"Light it," she said her lips pressed against the cigarette.

She shoved his knee.

"Come on!"

He gripped her wrist.

"No."

("It's you, you know? It's only you that's haunted."

She always finds him so easily that he wants to laugh. And cry. And rage. He closes his eyes. She runs her fingers through his hair.

"You need to stop it with that big brain of yours," she mutters, indestructible steel. "Stop it."

Her hand moves to his neck.

"Stop shadowboxing with him. Let him rest."

He huffs, his heart pounding. 'Is this what I've been doing?'

"Troublesome woman.")

"Troublesome woman."

Shikamaru took his cigarette back.

Tenten shrugged and flopped back on the grass.

"Lazy-ass," she puffed out her cheeks.

Her hand sought his. It tugged at it. Reassure me. Comfort me. There were times when there were unsuspected cracks to her, deep and small, and she looked human and dishevelled and sad.

Shikamaru lied back next to her, ashes dusting his chest. He flickered his cigarette to the side, then stubbed it out after a moment of hesitation.

One of his arm moved to support his head, the other snaked underneath hers.

He closed his eyes, matching his breathing to hers. And he waited. He waited for her to shift and fidget again.

For her to point up and say, "Don't tell me you don't see it, Nara! It's the exact same shape!" again.

For her to elbow him again, until he agreed.

He waited for her to live again.

("I guess it's until death do us part, huh?")

Cultural note: The bit about kimono folding is true. Corpses have their kimono folded the right side over the left one for funerals, while (living) people fold theirs, left over right side.

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