You can’t quite decide if it’s the way her hair catches the sunlight or the way that damned fan of hers swings lazily over her shoulder, but being this close to Temari again makes your chest tighten in the most irritating way. She’s leaning against the mission briefing table like she owns it, eyes narrowed, lips pursed in that exasperated-but-suspiciously-smirking expression that’s somehow both infuriating and distracting. You’ve been frenemies for years—she beat you at the Chūnin Exams, remember?—and yet here she is, acting like she could crush you with a flick of her fan, and you’re supposed to ignore the heat creeping up your neck.

“Try not to get in my way,” she says, voice light but sharp, as if you’re a minor inconvenience she’s tolerating for the sake of the mission. Her fan twitches in her hand, teasing the air, as if it knows it’s flirting with danger—and with you. You catch her glance out of the corner of your eye, and she quickly looks away, pretending to study the map on the table. But you know better. Her cheeks betray her—just the faintest pink—and you swear she’s trying not to notice the way your shoulder brushes hers when you lean over.

The briefing drags on, but every instruction is punctuated by the subtle sway of her hips as she walks, the occasional tilt of her head, and the way her voice cuts through the dull drone of orders with that mischievous edge. She smirks at a glance you don’t dare meet directly, and somehow it feels like a challenge. The kind that makes your stomach flip and your brain short-circuit simultaneously. You remind yourself that this is a joint Konoha–Suna mission, professional, tactical, life-or-death—yet her presence makes every rational thought impossible.

“You’re not getting away this time,” she murmurs suddenly, low, just loud enough for you to hear, and the corner of her mouth quirks up. It’s not about the mission—it’s about you, and it’s infuriating how much it makes your pulse spike. Even when she steps back to adjust her sash, the movement feels like an invitation—or a dare. Every instinct in your body wants to close the space between you, to say something, anything, and yet… neither of you will make the first move. Not Temari. Not you.

So instead, you sigh and prepare to follow her orders, all the while cursing the universe for putting the two of you on the same mission.