Insert standard disclaimer here. Warning: You are now entering an emo filled zone. If you don't understand this metaphor, then please go grow some brain cells.

There is a monster on the loose. It comes from nowhere, stalking silently in the shadows, and one day, one day soon, it can extend a dusk-coated arm, and drag its victims from the place of the sunlight, to a place of no return, no second chances, where one wrong glance means everything.

You don't come out from a monster's lair.

Monsters only have one victim. Lives are spent, and sometimes wasted, searching and seeking for the true victim. Some hunt on instinct, some find victims that are the easiest to catch, or the most difficult. It is a long and challenging hunt, but if there is ever the slightest glimmer of success, the demons cheer and roar with triumph. A lose comes hard and does not fade; monsters never forget their marks.

And now she had been marked for eternity.

If she tries to fight, to push away the claws that drag her, it fights back. Not with steel or sharp claws, but with words that hold a promise and a trust that binds her, binds her, binds her, until they are the same being. Until she doesn't pull back in fear, but rushes forward and embraces these new feelings.

Monsters like this never let go.

And she isn't alone. More monsters lurk, staking out their own targets, carefully marked and claimed by a series of twisted laws and codes. And if she sees one in the tiniest corner of her eye, they look away, because she is marked, and so they cannot touch her. It doesn't stop the callous looks, or the whistles through sharp fangs.

It's an invasion of demons.

Only once did the invasion cease. The monster stampeded out, and the town seemed strange without their constant presence. Their soon to be victims exchanged glances on the streets. Something was missing. It was unsettling, the eerie quiet, without the constant threat of lurking demons.

One demon lost all human traces and fled into the night.

When the monsters returned, the routine continued without end. Long looks that were only out of the corner of eyes became obvious and blatant. The stakes were high; losing a victim was out of the question. The meaning of monster was losing definition, and the victims, the eternally doomed, were growing bolder, stepping into shadows, meeting gazes, growing, everyday with confidence and strength.

Things had to be controlled.

And without warning, another monster fell, permanently, succumbing to the icy talons of death. The other monsters mourned in their own way of silent grieving. The victim was lost without the beast that had become a daily part of life. A well kept secret is revealed. And it scares the others. The stakes have more than tripled. Those with a victim show no quarter and those that still hunt scramble to find the one they have searched so hard for.

One bad hand can spell death, and a master bluff can make or break everything.

The monster that has marked her is different, yet accepted. They are all strange, but they stay close, as the numbers grow smaller. Those that have been marked no longer hang their heads; to have a mark is a sign of status. Slowly a change is happening.

The line between willful and resistant is fading.

Some can't remember when they noticed that monsters had appeared from the darkness. And she is beginning to forget, because it

He.

is becoming important, and has a meaning, not just a badge of pride. Years have past since she was staked out, and the features of monster that were always so carefully masked in darkness are being brought forward into the sunlight. She has plucked him from the shadows and will not let him return. Not without her.

So much has changed since then.

And one day, he takes her back with him. Back into the dark realms of silent shadows and echoing sighs. She sits, timid and nervous, as his friends and family watch her. She can't look them in the eye, even though he sits far too comfortably next to her, almost enjoying the sick spectacle. She bitches him out for it later as they amble down the street, a significant distance between them. He walks closer to the trees, trying to slip under the treetops were there is shade and only dark light. He stops suddenly, and she hears his footsteps break off without warning.

He has fallen behind and she stops to grab him, before he falls back to his own world.

She cocks her head at him, and her eyebrows furrow together, not in anger, but calm confusion that say, "Come on! I'm right here, so keep going!" He looks down at his feet, and her annoyance grows, because something is wrong with him, and he's hiding it and keeping her in the dark.

The shadows can't hold her forever, because there must always be sunshine.

And she walks back to him, and gives him a tiny shove, not to be mean, but to make sure that things are alright with him, and that he can pull through, can still be pulled from out of the darkness. And he gives her the tiniest smile imaginable, just to be reassuring, just so she knows that he hasn't fallen into the pit yet.

But everyone walks so close to the edge. And as different as he is from everyone else, he can't help drawing close to it. Even when there is so much to lose.

So she just keeps him close to her, but still with a distance, because there are those that will say he is still a monster, even as tame as he is. But she can keep him safe like no one else, keep him safe on their missions together, and push him away from the ANBU that so desperately hunts him, a new monster on the horizon, no mercy or release.

But the monsters are a careful and patient race. They may be impulsive, but when things matter, they take time and care to make sure they are done with flawless perfection. And he has waited longer than any of them. Seven years since the day she was marked, and now comes the deathblow, one unusually warm night.

They walk together on the bridge. They aren't totally alone, but the nearest people are back at the village and they left that a few miles back. He offers her his jacket and she snuggles down, ignoring her elders' voices that she shouldn't be alone with a monster, a demon.

For just one precious moment, all those voices of the past and present are silent. All that remains is the future.

With tentative, oddly warm fingers, he slips his hand into hers. She doesn't pull away, and he begins drifting closer and closer to her side, while she pretends not to notice. It's not frenzied or hasty, but it's the beginning of a spark that has waited for nearly a decade and at the moment, it's perfect. She tugs his hand and pulls him to the ground, attacking his hair, and squealing when he discovers she's ticklish. After the game is over, five elastics lay snapped on the ground, and she leans comfortably on his chest.

"Temari…" His breath tickles her ear and very gently, she nips the side of his face, and reclines even more into his chest. He's no monster; never was, never will be, not while she's there. She punches him, as sleep starts to take over. Darkness surrounds her, but his arms are stronger than any shield, and the true monsters can't touch them.

"Temari, do you believe in monsters?"

"Shut up, Shika."