Character(s): Tenten, Aburame Shino; brief mentions of Mitarashi Anko, Maito Gai, Rock Lee, Hyuuga Neji, Uchiha Madara
Pairing(s): Shino/Tenten
Warning(s): Implied character death, possibly spoiler-ish things
Disclaimer: I own nothing but these words.
Note: Written for the ShinoTen FC fanfic contest held over at NarutoForums. Takes place in the same timeline of 'Seasons of Love' somewhere between 'Autumn' and 'Winter'
Dedicated to: All you ShinoTen fans out there!
Useless Fact One: [From Wiki] Winter Solstice Festival/Mid-Winter Festival [ 冬至(dōngzhì) ] - Have Tangyuan and Jiuniang and perform ancestor worship; Feast day, family gatherings, also named "Chinese Thanksgiving"
Useless Fact Two: Ancestor - 1. a person from whom one is descended; forebear; progenitor; 2. an object, idea, style, or occurrence serving as a prototype, forerunner, or inspiration to a later one; 3. a person who serves as an influence or model for another; one from whom mental, artistic, spiritual, etc., descent is claimed

'I want to become a full Jounin...'

The voice -- her voice -- echoed in Tenten's mind like the soft whispers of a forgotten lover as she knelt down on the patch of grass. An old remnant of a memory that had been haunting her steps for days now. And held with it every single ounce of determination that her team had been known for. With good reason. Having an instructor like Maito Gai guiding her every step since graduating from the Academy, it was hard not to have big goals. And the aspiration to move up through the ranks to become one of the elite Jounin of the village was a very ambitious goal indeed. Especially when it required seeking out the aid and experience of Mitarashi Anko to balance out her skill levels.

Never in her wildest dreams did Tenten expect to grow fond of the overzealous kunoichi. Or that she would miss her this much.

Then again, none of them had expected Madara to rise out of the ashes of his defeat with what remained of the Akatsuki faction and the whole of Orochimaru's remnant army from Oto. That the Kage alliances would fall to pieces at the first mention of old issues and lingering resentment between the villages. Pride was a fickle thing among shinobi, after all. And yet it meant everything to the integrity of their cause. But in sight of a common enemy, everyone was forced to swallow their pride and fears. After all, arguments and disagreements did not seem so important the moment the bijuu were introduced into the game.

But no one had been prepared to face up against the tailed-beasts. And Anko was only the most recent among thousands of casualties they had suffered.

Wordlessly, the young woman slid the small bowl across the grave marker, placing it right over the village symbol that was etched in the stone. Guihua jiuniang. Not exactly the other's favorite dish to eat while she had been alive. But then again, it was no secret that Anko was more fond of food that were served on tiny sticks. All the same, though the elder had been a fairly picky eater and despite the fact that there had not been a day that the young kunoichi did not see her teacher nibbling on a dango of some sort, she had never turned down an offer to taste something new.

Bold and daring as she was, Tenten had expected no less.

The road to improvement had been difficult, as expected. The veteran kunoichi was certainly not the sort to go easy or hold Tenten's hand throughout the course of their training like Gai had. Far from it. To place them side by side of each other was like comparing night with day, although the extreme methods of learning that Anko practiced were similar to the challenges that the original Green Beast of Konoha tended to set for both himself and his students. A fact that had done well to prepare her for the Tokubetsu Jounin's training regiments. For that alone, the kunoichi had been thankful of her good fortune. That is, if it could be called that.

Smiling at that thought, she placed a plate of tangyuan balls beside the bowl. Each one carefully skewered and balanced on toothpicks for easy eating. Not the traditional way to serve them, granted. And the texture had not been quite the same without the soup to soften the outer surface a bit more. But Anko had once said she preferred them that way. And for her, the kunoichi was willing to make this one exception.

"Just the way you like it," she murmured softly.

"She always did have... unconventional tastes."

The soft rustle of grass under his feet had alerted her of the shinobi's presence before he ever uttered a word. After all, in times of war, it was often a fatal thing to be caught at unawares. Still, the kunoichi had not been overly concerned, The cemetery of the honored dead was a well protected section of the village, located in clear view of the Hokage Tower. Anyone who dared to target the hallowed grounds would have been stopped long before they ever reached it.

And the light scent of wild grass and rain water was a fairly helpful give away too.

"Well, if we were all conventional, nothing interesting would happen."

"That would depend on your definition of interesting."

The corner of her lips quirked at the comment, a bit of amusement showing in how her expression smoothed and softened from her normally neutral disposition. But as subtly as it had appeared, it was gone just as quickly. Now was not the time for smiles and euphoria, the kunoichi thought as she lit a few sticks of incense. Although Anko would surely disagree with the idea, there was no time for grief when other more pressing matters loomed over her doorstep. And besides, it simply did not seem fair -- did not seem right -- to find some small amount of joy in life. Not now, in any case. Not when they were all fighting for survival. For the right to continue existing.

This had not been the first loss she had suffered in her short life. Indeed, Tenten was very familiar with death. Especially since the start of this war against Akatsuki and what remained of Orochimaru's forces in the broken Sound Village. In fact, for a time, it seemed like a weekly occurrence with how poorly the troops were organized. How uncoordinated the alliances were designed. But it had been years since the pain of it had hurt this much. Had been this unbearable.

"I did not expect you to be here."

"...She's as much family as Gai-sensei, Lee, and Neji are..." she said softly. And with a steady exhale of breath, Tenten extinguished the flickering flames at the end of the long stems of incense, leaving behind the glowing embers and sooty-grey ash while wisps of smoke coiled with a strong sting of scent. "...Maybe even more so."

No word of acknowledgment came while she closed her eyes in silent prayer. None still as the kunoichi bowed her head respectfully afterwards and placed the thin stalks into the provided tray of gravel and cinders. Not that she expected such from Shino, even given their years together both on the professional and personal sense. It was not in the shinobi's nature to speak when he had nothing to contribute. Or when he felt a response was unnecessary. But that did not mean Tenten could not feel the weight of his eyes pressing against her back. Or see the questioning quirk of the other's brow at her statement.

"Anko was a kunoichi, like me," the young woman explained further, "Everything she and those of her generation did helped to pave the way for us to do better... for me to do better."

"Forces are set to march out to Suna early tomorrow morning. I assumed..."

"...We have a dinner planned for tonight, like usual. What we do til then is our business." At the thought, the kunoichi's gaze slowly dropped to the swirling vapors of the incense, her vision moving out of focus while another image faded in to take its place. It was hard to believe, especially with how well she had taken to their strange and inexplicable dynamics. But it had only been two years ago when Team Gai's squad of a family all agreed to add her in as a new honorary member, if not as a permanent fixture. Had deemed it a right and worthy choice to invite Anko to join in their annual dinners on Winter Solstice. After all, although comprised of orphans, they were still a family.

And her induction into it had only strengthened that feeling of belonging.

"What about you?"

"Earlier. Hinata insisted on having lunch together after training."

Practical, the kunoichi mused. Something that would appeal to the Aburame's more logical mind-set while appeasing to Kiba's straight forward and rambunctious nature. No doubt they all would be tired and famished after a long morning filled with last minute practice, especially with how hard they all battled and trained since the start of the war. -- Better than you were the day before, better than the enemy always. -- A smart move on the Hyuuga's part. Then again, after nearly twelve years of fighting alongside the both of them as a team and learning their tendencies by heart, Tenten had expected no less.

So preoccupied with the concept and organization of the idea, she had not taken notice of Shino shifting around to kneel down beside her. Not until a single white lotus came into view from the left corner of her eye as he placed it gently beside the food offerings. Which quickly snapped the kunoichi out of her dazed reverie. And then she became very aware of the other's warm presence. So very close. And, for lack of a better word to use in describing it, so very intimate for one of the Aburame. It was not like him to act in such a way. Aburame Shino was a man who preferred to hide himself and his emotions from the world. And indeed, anything beyond the privacy of closed doors was considered very open by clan standards.

"I... meant to give it to you sooner."

Still a bit confused, Tenten turned towards the other in hopes of perhaps gathering some sort of explanation from the way he seemed to carry himself. The meaning behind the young man's comment. To no avail. Because all that she could focus on was the way the sunlight moved with the surface of his shades, shifting with the angle of how they rested in proximity to where she sat. How her own image seemed to stare right back, returning the questioning gaze.

"My condolences," he clarified.

For an instance while Tenten looked hard at the mirrored reflection of herself, she could almost make out the outline of his eyes hidden beneath the dark glass. Could almost read the masked emotion that resided just beneath the surface. Certainly, it would have been a great milestone if she had been able, because everything Shino did, from the way he spoke and the way he conducted himself, was in veiled actions. Subtle hints. Perhaps as a side effect of being both a shinobi and the next heir to the Aburame dynasty. A shinobi's intentions were not meant to be read, after all. And an Aburame's motives were treasured secrets as guarded and protected as the daimyo himself.

Then the moment was gone, replaced by the stilled picture of herself once more. And with it, a truth that the young woman could not face. Not yet. So she turned away.

"...That's not necessary, Shino."

Like a soft breeze, the kunoichi felt his fingers brush over the back of her hand, the tips of his longer and larger fingers lightly curling under her scarred and calloused pinky . And she fought the urge to flinch the tiniest bit at the contact. She did not want his pity. Did not want his sympathy. Because she was not the only one suffering. And by far, was not the worse off in this war.

But it was apparent that he would have none of that. "You mourn her death."

"That... that's an inevitable repercussion."

Tenten had always known -- always expected -- that she would not live well into old age. That she would not die of natural causes. Not if she chose to continue in this profession. Because it was the whole of their world. Encompassed their entire existence. Death held a strong and firm grip in all their lives. And there was no escaping it. A shinobi's main goal was to protect their respective village, often times by any means necessary, yes. But in doing so, they were expected to deal out death as they fought to stall their own. It had been so with her mother, her grandfather, and her uncle. Each one had been taken from this world before their time in service to Konoha. And it would be so with her.

"But a repercussion nonetheless."

"I would rather celebrate the start of her next stage. Not mourn it."

From the corner of her eyes, the kunoichi could see the minute shifts in his posture and the looming shadow of his frame. The way his back sat a bit more straightly than was natural. The small tilt of his head in conjunction to the squaring of the young man's shoulders. All the while fixing her with a questioning gaze. He did not understand.

"Death is just another beginning," she explained. And observed as the fingers from his free hand curled a bit tighter into a loose fist.

He wanted more.

"It's like the seasons," she elaborated, pausing just long enough to brush her fingers along the petals of the white lotus. "Without winter, there can be no spring... without an end, there can't be a new beginning. Or any beginning for that matter."

"The concept of rebirth and renewal."

"Right. So... even though it hurts... I can be content in knowing she's moved on to the next stage in her journey. And then maybe it won't hurt so much." With a quiet inhale of air, the young woman noted how Shino's fingers glided and moved to tighten their grip a little more around her hand in reaction. His reaction to the thought of her being in pain and him being unable to do anything to alleviate it. "She lived a full life as far as I could tell. Longer than some. And died protecting what she cherished most. There wasn't much more she could ask for. That anyone could ask for."

"The average age of shinobi is thirty-five..."

Turning to him, Tenten gave a faint smile, the first for a while during the long stretch of their conversation. "So I was once told."

One that Shino felt inclined to return, if only in his own fashion. A barely notable twitch of his lips. A small breath of amusement. "She was... always rather fond of new adventures."

The kunoichi nodded in agreement, soon finding some semblance comfort in the silence that followed after. If only in the familiarity of the act itself. In the cooling breeze of the season as evening slowly began morphing into night. And in simply watching the stick of incense steadily burn its way down to the stub. With him by her side. His hand protectively resting over hers. And then, with the last wisp of smoke, the embers were snuffed out. Along with their momentary reprieve from the world.

Back to reality. Back to war. To morning that awaited their all too mortal lives fueled by undying loyalties. And the uncertainty of who would return with another stage of their own to begin.

"Do... do you think your father would mind if I came by? After the dinner?"

"...The solstice is a day for feasting and... familial gatherings."

"And... if I... just stayed the night?"

"...I would not wish it any other way."