A/N: This has been sitting and stewing for far too long, friends. I hope you enjoy it at last. I have so many more ideas to come, and my initial thoughts about the ending have changed. Expect great things, and a few surprises! Enjoy 3

-K

Chapter 8

I Have Sinned

"Shika… you have to come with me right now. It's Yoshino…"

Shikaku took a moment to comprehend his blonde friend's words as the man gripped his upper arm with urgency. As the words sunk into his brain, his eyes widened and his brain raced to every possible conclusion. Has someone hurt her? Did she hurt herself at home, with nobody to take care of her? Had she stopped eating? Did she find another man? None of these conclusions were impossible, but he had to know for sure.

"What happened?" he demanded, his voice icy as steel. He didn't even spare a glance for the woman seated across from him, too focused on the possibilities as guilt bloomed in his heart once again.

"Your son found her this morning…" Inoichi began explaining, and Shikaku's heart nearly stopped.

"She's not… is she…" he stammered, unable to voice the possibility aloud. His voice cracked slightly, but his face was a mask of ice and stone.

"She's alive, Shika, but she's at the hospital. Sakura doesn't know how long she was there, so it's impossible to say what will happen." Inoichi paused for air, his face distraught and his hands shaking as he continued to grip his comrade's arm, "She cut herself, Shika. She cut her own throat from the pain of it all."

Shikaku couldn't stop the sound that ripped itself from his throat as the guilt bubbled over. The molten lava he had felt hours before was replaced with ice, and every part of his body became numb from it. He felt like the very soul had been ripped from his body, and was floating several feet behind him, watching it all.

She cut her own throat from the pain of it all.

The words repeated in his mind over and over, on an endless loop of torment. It was his fault. All his fault. He had done this to her. He had pushed her to this point and she couldn't take it anymore. She would rather die than live with the pain of his betrayal. How could he have thought about being happy when his wife – the woman he had loved for nearly twenty years – had nothing left but pain? He glanced at Temari, not with anger, but with desolation.

This was the end.

The dark-haired shinobi allowed his friend to lift him to his feet and support him as they left the restaurant. He could barely feel his feet touch the floor with each step. He didn't spare a second glance for the woman who had given him hope. He hadn't stopped to think that his wife's hope had been stolen in the process.

Shikaku didn't remember much about the trip to the hospital. He felt like he was floating on clouds, not all there. He was sitting in a waiting area with cushioned benches. His son was there, tears streaming down his face. Inoichi paced up and down the hall, tugging on the end of his long ponytail. The strange part about this particular hallway was that Shikaku had a very clear memory of standing here years ago. His son was there, and so was She. This was the place he had first met her; First spoken aloud in her presence. At the time, he didn't think much about it, since his son was clearly growing close to her. He couldn't help but wonder what she was thinking that day.

The numbness in the scarred ninja's mind was protecting him and allowing him to separate himself from the feelings that were deeper. He knew on some level that this was shock, and it wouldn't last. It did, however, allow him some clarity when it came to his situation. He was able to process things logically and with some distance that he was not able to before.

Temari was refreshing. She was so different from his wife, but similar in some ways as well. The woman's single-minded determination reminded him of Yoshino in her youth. Her fiery temper too, though Yoshino's had evolved since then into a need for absolute control in all things. What he really enjoyed about the blonde Desert ninja was her drive. Yoshino seemed satisfied as a housewife and nothing more. She would never change or evolve or improve. Temari had the drive and the potential to become the best she could be, and to take exactly what she wanted from life.

At the same time, Shikaku made promises to Yoshino and to his son. He promised to be the kind of man who would protect his family and care for them. He promised to do this until death took him. What kind of man was he if he couldn't keep his word? He would be nothing without his word.

It wasn't like he didn't love his wife. He loved her and cherished her more than he cared to admit out loud. The problem was that he wanted them both. He wanted the comfort and familiarity of his wife, and the excitement and potential of Temari. Unfortunately for him, the world did not work in this way, and neither woman would settle for sharing. That he was sure of.

He had to decide. This choice was on him and him alone.

Shikaku was so deep in thought that he didn't notice the operating room light turn off and the double doors swing open. The sound of Sakura speaking did not reach his ears until Inochi shook him forcefully. Suddenly all the sound came rushing in, as if the protective cotton had finally been lifted.

"Shika! Are you even listening? Hey!" Inoichi's voice penetrated the fog, "That's right, focus man. What were you saying, Sakura-chan?"

"Yoshino-san cut deep. It seems to me like she was very serious about ending her life. In most cases, there are hesitation marks around the wound, but there were none whatsoever." Sakura paused, her hard green eyes boring into Shikaku, "I repaired as much as I could, but there will be a scar. That's not my main concern though. If she truly meant to die, I worry she may attempt something like this again."

Shikaku's gut twisted, forcing him to double over and gasp from the agony. He breathed deeply for several moments as the words were processed. He didn't know what to do or what to say. His wife wanted to die and she probably would no matter what he decided. He was supposed to be there and protect her. He was supposed to support her and never hurt her. What kind of man was he?

"I can't believe this…" it was Shikamaru. His face was streaked with tears as he leaned forward with his elbows on his thighs, "She never deserved this…"

With a sudden burst of all-consuming rage, Shikaku leapt from his bench and charged the boy who was the spitting image of himself. He lifted Shikamaru by his collar and slammed him against the wall. While the scarred man's face was screwed up into one of pain and fury, the boy's face remained impassive and his body limp.

"Why do you get to feel angry, Father? What has she ever done to you?"

Shikaku roared before slamming the boy into the wall again, "I DIDN'T ASK FOR THIS TO HAPPEN!"

"You didn't stop it though, did you?" the boy said quietly.

"How can a child understand the complexities of marriage and a lifetime of experiences? How can a child with zero experience with women judge anyone about these things? You do not know, you useless babe. You know absolutely nothing."

With that, Shikaku dropped his son onto the bench and stormed away, unable to stand the hospital anymore. Unable to stand the people around him. Unable to stand himself. He wanted nothing more than to take a knife to his own throat to end this horrible feeling of indecision.

Instead, he ended up at one of several training grounds at the forested outskirts of the village. This particular training ground was a dirt clearing with several wooden posts driven into the hard earth. Each post was cured and hardened with a mix of science and chakra to keep them from being too easily damaged by the force of a Shinobi's training.

Shikaku approached one of the posts, taking a series of deep breaths in an attempt to calm the raging tide within his very soul. He closed his eyes, focusing and concentrating. He needed the calm that came in the midst of battle. He needed the sharp clarity of precision and speed. He needed to think.

His eyes snapped open and he began moving with the grace and speed only a well-honed body could managed. He kept to taijutsu, attacking the post with only his physical might. His skin burned and ached with each strike, but he did not relent. He bombarded the wood with strike after strike, all the while wishing it were his problems and his emotions and his fate. Even as his muscles began to protest and his skin began to bleed, he continued his assault.

With a cry of sheer effort, Shikaku pushed through the pain and suddenly found the calm he was so desperately seeking. It was as if he came outside himself and inhabited a space not entirely on the same plane, like an invisible room filled with fog, but containing every memory and piece of information he had ever retained. He watched his body continue its movements, but in slow motion. His mind observed the scene with cold, calculated clarity. Time seemed to stretch as the possibilities spread before him. He knew this was the place he needed to be to decide. Disconnected, distanced and uninhibited.

The answer became so stunningly obvious at that very moment that he almost laughed. How didn't he see it before? Why had he been so oblivious and self-absorbed?

Decision made, he came back into his body slowly, with his senses returning gradually. As each moment passed, he realized that he had pushed himself farther than he had intended. His muscles screamed, his hands and shins bled freely and a wave of overwhelming exhaustion came over him. He sank to the ground, using the splintered post as a backrest, and promptly fell asleep.

"..aku… up…" a deep, far away voice penetrated the soft darkness. It was comfortable here, with nothing to worry about or to think about or to do. He drifted, ignoring the insistent voice that continued to probe into his cocoon of nothingness. A distant sensation of something being placed in a mouth he wasn't entirely connected to reached him.

Despite his lack of concern for the material world, he was suddenly and harshly yanked back into consciousness as the flavour of berries and the sharp tang of copper exploded in his mouth. He jumped to his feet instantly, instincts and training overriding his delayed brain as he took a defensive position. Then the pain of his abused body registered and he fell to his knees with a groan.

It took a moment for his eyes to focus on the huge man before him. He wore a green-grey breastplate with the Akimichi crest emblazoned on the front in red. His long and unruly red mane was blowing in the wind, and his chubby face squinted at him in concern.

"Shikaku, what happened to you, man?" Chouza's deep bass voice and soft hands were a familiar comfort, but as Shikaku's brain rebooted, so too did his memory.

"I know what I have to do… I'm fine. It'll all be fine…"

With that, he struggled to his feet, pushed his friend aside, and headed to the one place he knew he had to be. The only place that mattered. With the only person that mattered.

Temari had returned to her hotel room after being forced to pay for a breakfast she was unable to eat. She felt utterly empty inside. Everything was finally working out and they were finally going to be together. It was perfect and wonderful and hopeful. Her heart clenched at the memory of the blonde ninja's news.

"She cut herself, Shika. She cut her own throat from the pain of it all."

It echoed and cycled in her mind over and over. The news, the sound Shikaku made, his face. All of it was playing on repeat combined with the conversation they had been having and the plans they had been making. In one instant, it all came crumbling down. She knew without a doubt that he would go back to his wife now.

He had to.

Temari wasn't sure what she was going to do. She had her own choices to make now. She had no idea if news had reached Sunagakure, but even if it had, she had nowhere else to go but home. Despite the urge, there was a part of her heart that hoped Shikaku would come back to her. It was possible that his wife had died, but she knew there was a 50-50 chance that he would hate her and blame her for it. If the woman had survived, it was also a tossup whether he wanted to be there for her, or be angry with her.

Any way it went, their relationship would not be the same. The question was, how hard was she willing to fight? She had done so many questionable and down-right awful things to get this far. She had become a terrible person to get what she wanted, and it still wasn't enough. Maybe it wasn't enough. What was she willing to do? Was there anything that she could do? And could she live with herself if she did?

After several hours of lazy contemplation, a long bubble bath and a short workout, Temari still hadn't come to a reasonable conclusion, nor had she made any decision either way. She decided she would let time tell, since the events of today left most of the decision in Shikaku's hands. She could decide what to do after more information presented itself.

As fate would have it, a knock at the door broke her out of her thoughts, and her heart gave a hopeful leap. Was it him? Did he come back to sweep her off her feet and tell her everything would be okay again? Was he ready to finally leave it all behind and move forward with her? Temari sauntered to the door with a smile plastered on her face. She was sure things would be just fine.

The sound of his cry of agony at the news from this morning replayed in her mind and she faltered. Just for a second, the doubt was back.

As she reached the door and turned the handle, her gut clenched and her chest tightened. This was it. This was the moment. No going back from here.

The door swung open to reveal…

A butler with an envelope clasped in his hand.

"Ma'am, I have a delivery for you."

A letter could mean only one thing…

She snatched the paper from his fingers, smoothing her face into a mask. She nodded to him in thanks, and closed the door before the flood of emotions came crashing through her at full force. She collapsed to the ground, the door to her back, as heaving sobs broke through. She let it happen, and didn't resist the heart crushing sadness for several minutes. She clutched her chest as the pain tore at her. She hated herself for allowing these emotions, but she had nobody to be strong for. By herself, she could let it all go.

When the emotion began to fade slightly, she tore open the letter with shaking fingers, careful not to damage the contents. As her watery eyes located the single sentence scrawled on the page, hot fury replaced the misery nearly instantly.

Princess,

I know what is truly important to me, and I won't forget that again.

Goodbye,

Nara Shikaku

The sheer audacity that this man had astounded her. One sentence, after all that they shared and planned together? He would end it with one sentence?! And in a letter, no less? Did she mean so little to him? Did he think she was a piece of trash to be discarded so carelessly after everything? She understood that they were new and they did not share a long history together, but she deserved to be respected enough to have this conversation face-to-face, and at length. She deserved some say in this decision. She deserved to be allowed to fight for her part in everything.

But she wasn't, and going to him now would only show how very desperate she was. It would only prove to everyone that she was a stupid kid who only wanted to mess up other people's lives. It was over. This was it, and there was nothing she could do. He chose what he thought was "truly important", and for him that meant family and his word. She was nothing to him.

With a concentrated burst of chakra to her hand, she released a wave of sharpened wind energy and shredded the letter into confetti.

Her decision was made for her, and she would have to live with it. She knew in her heart that Shikaku would regret this eventually. He would see what he settled for, but if he came running back, she would not make it easy for him. He deserved that much.

In a moment of clarity, she got to her feet, held her head high, and gathered her belongings. She would return to Sunagakure and to her duty. She would be the best damn Kunoichi the world had ever seen, and she would show the piece of shit that nothing could stop her.

She left Konoha soon after, not even bothering to stop for food before she was leaping through the forest and toward home.

Coming up: Chapter 9 - Winds of the Second Circle

"It says here you are not due back until next week. Explain," the Suna border guard demanded.

"There were some unforeseen circumstances which lead to the breakdown of appropriate relations between the Konoha delegate and myself. I have relieved myself from my duties, as they may no longer be performed at the standards required by the Kazekage." Temari replied, her tone completely void of emotion or depth.

"That's not what I've heard, Princess. From what I've heard, the circumstances were not only foreseen, but premeditated." He stepped around his desk, his eyes flashing menacingly, "Everyone is talking about what happened in Konoha: How you whored yourself around the whole village, fucking anyone that would take you…" He was closer now, his face next to her ear as he whispered the last few words, "You have to be good for that many people to want someone like you…"

Not moving an inch as the filth dripped from his tongue, and her expression unchanged, Temari remained this way for several moments as the nin breathed in her scent. Only when he lifted a hand to touch her did she act, and the speed was something few had the misfortune of witnessing. She twisted her body, reached forward to grab the offending limb, twisted it backwards, and simultaneously grabbed the back of his jacked to push him down into the sand. Grains flew out in every direction as the man's face was swallowed up by the fluid nature of the material. He struggled, but Temari was strong from years of practice with a giant fan. She held him easily as he kicked and writhed under her. Just as he was beginning to lose steam due to lack of oxygen, she pulled him back up by his collar, keeping his wrist held firmly behind his back.

"Spreading rumours is unbecoming of a ninja of Sunagakure, as is sexual assault. Times may have changed since the last Kazekage ruled, but believe me when I say I will not hesitate to kill you if you pull something like that again. Understood?"

He merely spit on her feet, his expression pure, unbridled disgust.