A/N: So, my plan was to write a few chapters of a KibaIno story before posting the first one. Of course, i couldn't wait that long. So here it is. Chapter one. It's gonna be darker than what i've written before, with language (warning warning, no whining about it later) and other...darker things. I might raise the rating to M in the future, depending on how things turn out. With that said, i hope there are some KibaIno fans out there who enjoy this!

Summary: AU. With a past she would rather keep forgotten, the future meant little to her. She knew one thing, however: the world was filled with monsters. They were at every blind corner and down every dark alley. She happened to be one of them. KibaIno.

Disclaimer: The only thing that's mine is the plot. Sadness...

Monster Monster

1. In the city of wonder

…ain't gonna play nice…

She kept her hands stuffed in her jacket pocket as she trudged down the street, eyes on everything but nothing in particular. The buildings were all tall and narrow, junky looking and definitely old, with windows so dark that she wondered if they were tinted – and if that was even legal. She decided that it probably wasn't but that no one actually cared, and kept walking.

Loud chatter and booming laughs drifted through an open bar door as a shabbily-dressed man slipped inside. She watched his worn grey trench coat disappear with cold blue eyes, and then flickered her gaze to the two lanterns dangling from the overhang, already lit up though the color of the patch of sky visible was more gray than black. She scowled and looked away from the bar, the welcoming yellow glow filtering through the dusty windows more repulsive than appeasing to her.

She kicked a flattened soda bottle in her path; it tumbled forward in a skewed line, and she drifted a bit to the right to kick it again. This time it landed in a puddle of muck, the exact contents unknown to her. She didn't spare it a second glance as she walked past and reverted once more to listening to the light sound of her footsteps now that the metallic scraping was gone.

Suddenly, the sound of tires skimming over the rough concrete behind her caught her attention, and before she could as much as turn around a horn trumpeted loudly. The duffle bag slung across her back drummed against her shoulder blade when she jumped and cursed.

"Hey, girlie, get your ass out of the street!"

She complied, though grudgingly, and glared at the rusty paint of the old four-door that drove by, windows tinted of course. "Get your ass out of the street, bastard," she muttered under her breath, and stepped down off of the sidewalk with rebellious pleasure.

The solid weight thumping against her back had her subconsciously take one hand out of the kangaroo pocket of her navy jacket and tighten her fist around the thin straps hanging from her right shoulder. Just to make sure it was still there.

She heard snickering from her left and looked over to see two teenage boys sitting on the cracked curb, fingers pointed not-so-conspicuously in her direction. She raised a thin eyebrow and gave them a look. What?

She heard one of them – the one with a mane, drastically in need of a good trim – ask his friend under his breath, "Think she knows what a sidewalk's for?"

"Dumb blonde joke, good one. Losers," she countered, chin up and tone sarcastically sweet turned cold. She tuned out any disgruntled sound of protest that may have come. They were already behind her, and she wasn't looking back. When she was sure that she didn't feel their degrading eyes on the back of her head anymore, she sighed and looked at the sky.

Or as much of the sky she could see.

Surrounded by intimidating towering buildings on both sides seemed to shrink the shadowed street to half its actual size, inducing a sort of claustrophobic discomfort on her. Windows upon windows glinted in the late afternoon sun, its rays pallid under the thick blanket of gloomy clouds. It was about five o'clock, but with the insignificant amount of light reaching the street level it appeared to be about six thirty, almost seven.

At least it doesn't get too windy down here, she thought as she passed under a clothesline strung up a good hundred yards overhead at the tip of the building. Nickel-sized garments blew to and fro in an unfelt gust, and she could almost imagine the crisp coldness. Could almost feel her hair whip around her face, disheveling her bangs and leaving her cheeks colored.

She nearly smiled.

And then her right foot landed in something wet and icy cold, and she swore violently. "Fuck."

She lifted her foot out of the dirt-colored puddle with a grimace and groaned; her jeans were soaked halfway up her shin. She put weight on her foot tentatively and clenched her fists at the squishy, clammy cold feeling. She really felt like punching someone.

"Fucking bastard," she spat at the puddle, and then repeated herself once more in a much more forlorn voice. Angry tears pricked at the corners of her eyes and she dug her fingernails into her palms in revolt. "God dammit."

"Damn, sweet cheeks, you sure got a mouth on you."

She lifted her chin and scrutinized the source of the – to her slight confusion – praising voice. She pursed her lips and shot back a defensive, "What's it to you?" before turning away from the messy brown hair and peculiar tattooed face.

She stopped in her tracks when he spoke again. "Are you crying?"

And she spun around with glinting eyes. "I'm not crying." And she wasn't, and she no longer wanted to, and her eyes were dry and angry. To her utter fury, he was grinning in amusement.

"You've got a temper also, don'tcha?"

"Only for jerks like you."

"Aw, what did I ever do to you?" he pouted and crossed his arms. She couldn't help but notice the toned muscles under the tan skin, defined just enough to catch any girl's eye. Her eyes rested on his for a moment, and she had a good idea of what he wanted from her.

"I'm not for sale," she told him brusquely. His grin was matched by an intrigued glint in his auburn eyes, and her blood almost boiled.

"Who ever said anything about that? I'm hurt, sweet cheeks." He placed a hand over his heart dramatically, but his grin only grew more amused, stretching the inverted red fangs inked into his cheeks.

"Don't. Call me that."

"How's cupcake? Darling? Blon-"

"Screw you," she hissed and flipped her hair over her shoulder as she walked away.

"Wait, I was just kidding!"

She heard him run to catch up to her, and clenched her jaw. Maybe she would get to punch somebody after all. "Can you please just leave me alone?" she asked when he fell into step next to her. She saw him look over at her from the corner of her eye, but she didn't look back.

After a minute of him scrutinizing her, he looked forward and answered. "Well, normally I'm a sucker for girls asking for things politely. But in this case, I don't feel the sincerity. Besides, there's something about you that's caught my attention."

"I already said. I'm not that kind of girl. Go look on some other corner if that's what you want."

"And I already said that that's not what I want. I was just noticing that you look very out of place down here."

She rolled her eyes. "Okay, that's great to know. Am I supposed to be in rags or something?"

"Do you see rags on me?" he asked. "What I mean is that you look like you're lost. Or running away from something," he added, staring pointedly at the bag on her shoulder.

"Oh, and I suppose you care so very much," she replied scathingly, hoisting the bag more firmly over her shoulder.

"Well, I was wondering where you were going, and if you were okay. You know, all those good civilian kinda things."

"Sweet," she said blandly, "but I don't need any sympathy."

"Okay, okay. I wasn't giving you any, don't worry about it."

"Lovely. Goodbye."

"Where are you going?" he asked, not even missing a beat.

"Goodbye," she repeated through clenched teeth.

"Sorry, but I'm heading this way anyway. I might as well be a gentleman and keep you company. So where are you heading?"

"Why do you care?"

He shrugged. "I'm just striking up conversation. And besides, you're making it too much fun to annoy you."

"You flirt like a fourth grader."

He chuckled. "You're too funny, sweet cheeks."

"Don't-"

"Yeah, yeah, sorry. So where-"

"I don't know where I'm going." She looked over at him, and he was raising an eyebrow.

"That's not good. So I was right, you're lost."

"No. I'm not headed anywhere in particular."

His eyebrow got lost under his uneven fringe. "It's going to get dark soon, and it's not good for a young lady such as yourself to wander the streets at night. Then people really will think that you're a prostitute."

She managed to keep herself calm after the last comment. "Which is why I'm looking for a place to stay."

He scratched his chin. "You know, you're kinda confusing. But I have just the place for you," he announced, a proud smile revealing pointy incisors.

"Huh?"

"You need a place to stay the night, right? And I happen to know the perfect place."

"As long as it's not at your house…"

"Please, sweet cheeks. Try apartment complex. Oh and lookie here, we have arrived."

He veered right onto the sidewalk and stopped with a hand on a glass door. "Well, are you coming or what?"

She looked up at the burnt orange bricks and small, iron-enclosed balconies. The windows were all covered with dark curtains. In all, the building looked all but welcoming, but she knew that she did need a place to stay.

With a heavy exhale of "What the hell am I doing?" she followed, rolling her eyes when he held the door open for her.

The lobby was small, since the building was so narrow. The walls were covered in peeling, off-white paint and the floorboards were a dusty brown. The door closed with a creak when the man followed her inside.

"Yo, Tsunade, you have any empty rooms for her?" he asked the busty woman sitting behind a counter against the left wall.

"I don't have much money."

"Don't worry blondie, I've got it covered."

She frowned at him but couldn't dismiss the kind offer, so she looked back at the woman behind the counter. Tsunade had lighter blonde hair in two side ponytails, and her chin was resting on her entwined hands, arms propped up by her elbows. "Good afternoon to you too, Kiba. Room seven's free," she informed them in a bored voice, and blinked her eyes tiredly.

"Perfect, she'll take it for the night."

"You're paying."

"I know, blondie. But maybe if you're so demanding I'll have you chip in a bit."

"You already said you'd pay."

Tsunade sighed. "Can you go away, I have a headache and you're not making it better."

"Whatever," Kiba said cheerfully, taking advantage of being told to leave before paying. "I'm going upstairs. Follow if you want, sweet cheeks."

"Um, thanks? I guess," she said to the older woman before hurrying to catch up to Kiba, who had nicked a key from a rack on the wall and was already climbing the spiral stairs at the back right corner of the lobby.

She caught up when they reached the landing for the second floor. "How much higher?" she asked grumpily when they passed it by and continued climbing, their footsteps almost thunderous on the metal steps.

"Next floor. If you get tired, I'll be happy to carry you."

"If you touch me, I will hurt you."

Kiba shrugged. "Your loss."

He led her down the narrow hallway in silence, and upon reaching room number seven he jammed the key into the lock and turned it with a bit of difficulty. "Damned old doors," he muttered as he wrestled with the sticky bolt, and he let out a grunt when he had to throw his shoulder into the door to get it open.

She raised both eyebrows as the white-washed wood opened with a very pronounced creak to reveal a sparsely furnished, small living room. The smell of pent-up dust filled her nostrils and she frowned.

"Just open some windows and it'll air out soon," Kiba said, noticing her expression.

She eyed the back of a brown leather sofa dubiously, noticing a distinct tear towards the bottom left corner, but ultimately sighed and snatched the key from Kiba's hand. She had one foot over the threshold when he asked her.

"By the way, sweet cheeks, you wouldn't happen to have a name, would you?"

She twirled around and placed a hand on the door, fixing her cerulean eyes on his brown ones, and gave him a humorless smile.

"Sakura," she answered, and closed the door in his tattooed face.