Raidou never wanted much more than a tumble in the hay. He didn't want a tumble in the hay, much, either, but sometimes, when he was cooling his heels in Konoha, between one mission and the next, he'd just feel so tense. Those nights, he'd pull on civvies, and he'd go out clubbing with Genma, 'cause between the two of them, they could catch all the girls they wanted. The girls at the clubs were always easy to pick up; they were easy to drop, too. They didn't want much more than a quick run around with a ninja, 'cause that was exciting to them, thrilling in all the right ways and right places. Civilian girls were dime a dozen, and with Genma around, Raidou could never fail to catch a few.

Too bad Genma wasn't around anymore.

x

Shikaku had never meant to cheat on Yoshino. It wasn't that he'd felt bitter, or that he was tired of her. It was just that, between here and there, this and that, then and now, he'd been caught up by hot skin and slick bodies, and it wasn't so much the sex, 'cause really, sex was nice, but it wasn't all there was to people. It was more of being that close to someone else, of being able to feel their breath hitch against his chest, to feel their eyelashes against his cheek. It was closeness that called for him, that made him linger in bars, drinking too many beers. That's what made him hesitate going home, made him drag his footsteps, because it was hard looking Yoshino in the face, when he smelled of another woman's perfume, and another man's cigarettes.

It was hard looking a dead person in the face.

x

Hana wasn't very brave. Once upon a time, she'd been able to laugh and boast and stand with the best of them. She'd shoved her hands into men, to kill and to heal and to tear and to put back together. She'd laughed a lot, 'cause laughing meant she was brave, and if she was brave, nothing could touch her. She laughed, a lot, and she'd always had someone to laugh with her. Kiba had laughed with her, and Mama had, too. Asuma had laughed, his cigarette dangling from his lips, like kisses dangled from hers, and she laughed with him. She was always brave with Asuma around, because together they were steady and firm, like an unmovable mountain, jutting up from wind-swept plains.

It was hard to brave, though, when Asuma was gone.

x

On a spring day, or maybe an autumn night, Raidou went clubbing, while Shikaku wasted time in a bar, and Hana sat in the dust. The sun was shining, or maybe the moon was setting. Raidou picked up a civilian girl, and Shikaku picked up a beer, and Hana picked up a leaf. Maybe it was green, and maybe it was blood-red, crinkling into burnt brown at the edges. They crushed things, little by little. Raidou crushed a girl's hands between his, and she murmured something in his ear, something wicked and delightful and full of little promises that Raidou would break, one by one. Shikaku crushed a beer can, the aluminum bending and tearing and ripping holes into his hand, little droplets of blood Shikaku would lick up, one by one. Hana crushed a leaf, maybe green and soft and tender, maybe red and dry and brittle, and the pieces fell to the dusty street, covering her feet, one by one.

One by one.

One was such an ugly number.

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