Warning: Fear not, this fic has no spoilers and is rated T for suspense and mature themes. However, it is a character drama, thus younger readers and the action-oriented will likely find it a bit boring.

Author's Note: This fanfic is set sometime between the Invasion of Konoha and Sasuke Retrieval story arcs.

Disclaimer: Obviously I am not Kishimoto-san, and alas, I do not have permission to write this. I would be grateful if you didn't press charges. Thank you.

Distracting and a Great Bother
(part one)

I desperately sprinted down the last length of path that led to the river, broke out from the trees, and fell to kneel in the cool grass. The burning need to escape had driven me to the shaded quiet of the river a short distance behind my house. It was not any actual danger or threat that had forced me out, but my work. Too much of it, in fact. With freelance artists, it was either feast or famine. I was in a feast of commissions that had lasted for months and promised to last that much longer, but the sheer volume of paid work left me no time or energy for my own projects. The money was great, yet I felt aimless and empty. In the few spare moments I could find for myself, I would have the barest glimmer of inspiration for a new scroll or painting...but the image would shimmer and vanish before I could grasp it. Invariably I would be left alone to stare down at the accusing blankness of my drawing paper.

With a sigh, I rubbed my hands over my face and forced myself to calm down. I took a deep breath of the cool evening air. The sun was low on the horizon behind me and cast long shadows of myself and the trees across the grass and onto the river. The water sparkled in between the black fingers, dancing and whirling in the light. An insect skimmed the surface, the ripples of its passing disturbing the symphony for a moment before being caught within. Oh...apparently I can still appreciate such simple beauty. Perhaps work hasn't sucked all the artistic passion from me after all. I almost laughed with relief.

A fish suddenly leaped from the water to snap up the insect, diving back in with a splash. I yelped in surprise and clapped my hands over my mouth. The spray had glinted in mid-air like jewels before the green curtain of the river and distant shore. It would make a magnificent scroll, if I could only lock the image inside! I fervently began to memorize the moment when something rather odd distracted my attention.

A large round object was jutting out of the river's shallows, beached on a sandbar. It had definitely not been there when I had taken my last break earlier today. And trash in this section of the river was actually quite rare. No doubt it was some form of jetsam that had been washed up and was now waiting for the river to rise again to reclaim it. Then with a gasp of dismay, I remembered the leaping fish--but the image was lost.

Distracted by trash. Typical. I looked with longing back to where the fish had hovered for that brief moment in the air, then turned away with a sigh. The vision of simple beauty had plopped back into the river's depths along with the fish. Grumbling at my lack of focus, I trudged towards the sandbar, my geta crunching on the gravel and dirt that formed the riverbank.

I reached the sandbar and stepped out on it. I studied the object as I neared and made a sour face. It really was rather large and thus likely heavy as well. Wonderful. Distracting and a great bother. In fact it strongly resembled an enormous gourd. It had some sort of rope or belt wrapped around the narrow section, and attached to that was a hand and arm--I froze in mid-step and could only stare. With growing horror, my eyes moved down to see a small, muddy body lying facedown on the sand, the torso barely out of the water.

It's a kid! With a strangled cry, I threw myself forward to sprint the remaining distance and fell to my knees next to them. "Hey! Are you alive?!" With relief I saw the child's face was not buried in the sand, but turned to the side towards the gigantic gourd. They can breathe! There's still a chance! I grabbed the narrow shoulders and heaved, rolling them over onto their back. I could see no visible wounds. Judging from the waterlogged clothes and short red hair, it was a boy, and one who had barely begun his teenage growth spurt. Much too young to die! Trembling with shock, I touched his neck for a pulse and gave a joyous gasp when I found it steady, if slow, beneath by fingers. Even with the river mud and detritus upon him, he had a strange beauty. I patted his cheeks with both hands and leaned close over him.

"Hey! Are you conscious? Hello!"

No response.

I brushed the sandy mud off his face with my hands, hoping the stimulation would help him awaken. "You're quite a mess--particularly around the eyes--but at least you're alive." I frowned when I realized the black smudges of his eyes would not come off like the rest of the mud. A closer look revealed they were darkly bruised, though not swollen. Perhaps it had happened in the process of him ending up in the river and then on my bank. I moved to brush off his forehead and paused in surprise. A dark red kanji hovered above his left eye...the word for "love". Unusual choice for a boy! I placed my palm flat on his chest and gave him a gentle shake. "And you're much too young to have a tattoo!"

His eyes snapped open and instantly locked on my face. I froze.

He did not move, smile, or even blink. He only stared.

Facing that flat, emotionless gaze, I felt my easy grin fade away. Beneath my splayed right hand, I could feel his chest barely rise and fall as he breathed in an even rhythm. This is wrong. This isn't how a kid who almost drowned reacts upon awakening to rediscover life. My heart began to pound.

His blank eyes were pale blue. And as they held me frozen where I knelt on the sand, they somehow became...menacing.

The sounds and scents of the river vanished from my awareness as everything was lost to that malevolent glare. I had been so worried for his life that the telltale cut and make of his clothes had barely registered in my frantic mind. But even if I had been oblivious to them, the coldly unwavering eyes told me enough.

He is a shinobi. He can kill me.

I slowly sat back, lifting my hand away from his chest, our mutual stare never breaking. This was more than wrong. It was bad, bad, very bad! It felt as if I was facing down a vicious beast. My breath came faster and faster as adrenaline shot through my system. Show fear to a predator and they will strike you down. I took a breath. To run would invite a pursuit, and what chance would a normal woman have against a shinobi? I swallowed, forced myself to blink, and made my choice.

"Glad to see you're still alive!" I gave him a quick, polite bow from where I knelt beside him. "I am Minami. Artist, single, blood type B, but my age will have to remain a secret." I sat back to give him a warm smile while brutally ignoring the terror within. "And who might you be?"

He did not move, not even so much as to blink or raise his head from the sand. Only those pernicious eyes glittered in the evening light.

I waited a moment. I'm already in the thick of it. Why stop here? "All right, then," and with a small laugh, "I dub you 'Ai-kun' for that tattoo on your forehead." Did his eye just twitch, or did I imagine it?

I stood up, refusing to be affected by the slight tremor in my limbs. "You really are a mess, Ai-kun. You and your clothes both need a good washing. My house is quite nearby--" I nearly choked. Caught up in my own act, my overactive artistic nature had neatly ruined the chance for escape. But he seems as if he really does need help...and a moment ago you were in fear for your life! I berated myself inwardly. In fact, you still are! What are you doing?! Voice light, I quipped down to him, "I didn't see any obvious injuries on you, but if you need to, you can recuperate at my house." I mentally screamed.

I took a step back to give him room and saw that he turned his head to follow me.

I blinked again. So he can move. Is that good or bad? Either way, my heart refused to stop pounding. I brushed the sand off my legs to give myself a moment to calm down. It didn't succeed. "Can you get up?" I asked. "I hope so, as I don't think I'm strong enough to carry you far at all." I think he twitched again.

My implication worked; he finally moved. Slowly, he sat upright. I smiled, stepped close again, and bent to hold out my hand. His eyes flicked down for a brief moment, then back up to my face. I continued to smile, refusing to cave in to the terror and run. A test for the both of us, Ai-kun.

His gaze never leaving me, he reached back with his left hand to grip the belt around the giant gourd and pulled it across the sand towards him. Then finally, cautiously, he grasped my hand. His touch felt slightly cool on my own flushed skin. His hand was still smaller than mine, but the grip was strong. Very strong! My heart lurched at his voluntary contact and I hid my gasp by stepping back and pulling him to his feet. The gourd apparently was heavy, his grip on it jerked us off-balance. We staggered into the water, and I threw my left arm around him to steady us both.

His head barely reached my shoulders. Through his drenched clothes I could feel the hard tension in his body. His frame was slight, but I could not mistake the muscle under my arm or pressed against my side. And it was as I stood there, waiting, with the water dripping from him back into the river and my breath caught in my throat, that I realized the truth. You're terrified of him, and you like it!

The blood drained from my face as my mind went berserk. That's why you keep baiting him! Giving him a foolish girly nickname, inviting him to touch you, standing here pressed against him! It's no wonder you subconsciously invited him home! You sick little deviant, you're waiting for him to attack you! You want him to do it!

I leaped away from him as if I'd been burned, my feet slipping inside my wet geta and sending me sprawling onto the sand. I scrambled upright and out of arm's reach. Trembling, I held the back of my wrist against my mouth and stared.

He stared back, unmoving. But his eyes seemed slightly different. They were no longer menacing. Now...they seemed angry.

My heart lurched again, but this time I knew it wasn't only because of terror. "I--I'm sorry, Ai-kun," I stammered out. "It's not you, it's me." I swallowed. "It's definitely me."

(completed 1-1-07, last tweaked 3-28-07)