Master plans need master lighters.

[Juicy !]

School was boring. Fact. There should be a law to ban how boring and utterly annoying it is to wake up at six to get to the institution on time, then have to sit through six hours of drone lectures from the teachers. Or how every singly one of those so called teachers just expects everyone in the class to get what they're ranting about, especially when they get off on a random tangent then go back to the topic. It's not fair to fail a kid when he doesn't get what you're talking about and has the attention span of a two-year old. Period. School is one of those things that is meant for ditching. It's meant to make you not want to go, just so the staff can have something to do and get you in trouble to stick you in detention. Well, Kiba was over it. Hell, the Inuzuka had been over it since freshman (make that third grade) year. It wasn't that hard to tell you were boring when your class consisted of nap time for half the population (or was it just him and shikamaru?) Either way, teachers need to learn how to do their jobs better.

Since school is of no interest, Kiba obviously has to tap into his more.. inventive side. The one-track mind that needs to find something interesting or it will shut down. So what were the brunettes interests? Causing destruction, going to parties, meeting girls, and doing everything in his power to have a good time. Hell, he tried to spit fire once with vodka because he had a need for all of the above. It was not very hard to miss the fact that the tattoo-faced boy had certain agendas for every occasion. At parties it was: Girls, booze, girls, then more booze, then a little bit of anything he could get his hands on. When it was hanging out anywhere it involved girls, booze, fun, and everything he could get his hands on (that didn't cost too much, that is). However, school.. school was always a different story. Or not at all. When it came to school Kiba's one-track mind focused on his few interests, and wanted to make the most out of it. He wanted to ditch the excruciatingly, painfully boring class and go cause destruction or get some girls. Today he just happened to have an ingenious idea.

It's one thing to have sex in a classroom, bathroom, or whatever. Even another to just ditch class for the hell of it. It's even okay to figure out which chemicals in chemistry won't mix. All of the above fell under the best interests a man could have (yes, Kiba qualified himself as a very brawny, hot hunk of sexberry pie). Though when the devious thoughts end up mixing together, you end up with three smoke bombs and a few bad intentions. Bad intentions, of course, involving the female form and all of it's glory. In other words: Hot naked chicks running. Was it so hard to ask for such a thing outside of porn? It shouldn't have been. Which is why the dog-boy was standing outside of the girls locker room, near the last ten minutes of class when they'd be changing and showering and doing whatever they do in there; only, hopefully they'd be naked. With a sharp grin and a few bad thoughts Kiba pulled out the three smoke bombs, and got ready to throw them in and light them. Or, well, the other way around since he would have to light them first. Reaching into his left, inside jacket pocket of his uniform (otherwise known as the drug pocket) he found nothing. That couldn't be accurate, though, he though, no, swore he remembered his. He always brought it.

It only occurred to Kiba in that moment that it was a potential problem he forgot the lighter. Not only that, but he didn't have matches, or any other kind of fire-making device with him. His chocolate brown eyes looked towards the three smoke bombs as if they were the embodiment of all evil, ruining the plans he had. What could have only been described as a puppy-dog pout reigned over his face as he hit his head repeatedly against the wall. ”Fuck. My. God. Damn. Life.” If such a saying could be repeated a thousand times, now would be the only time it would. Finally, sticking his head to the wall he sighed, gradually letting his body slide to the floor until his ass hit the tile. Why, oh why, was life this cruel to him. If something didn't happen soon, the kid was sure the universe hated him. Forever and an eternity.

[¡El Bandito!]

Once, someone had garnered unto Haruka the words of wisdom that if you were going to skip, you had better get the fuck off campus, or you were just begging to be caught by someone and stuck in detention, have parents called, the whole shebang.

So, when Haruka had skipped class that period, she made sure to high-tail her ass off campus and off the radar of any of the particularly vindictive administrators she might have pissed off that week by being out of uniform with her ridiculous hair (though she wasn't the only one, she would argue - why the fuck could all those juniors have weird ass hair colors if she couldn't? Pink hair? Come on.), too-tight shirts (she maintained that they had fit when she bought them, and that they could pay for the new ones they wanted to her to wear so bad) and faceful of metal (earrings were okay, so why wasn't anything else?). A whole period of sitting on the swings at the nearby city park and leering at the parents with kids too young to be enrolled in Kindergarten yet... now THAT should be a class. More than once, she smirked at a vaguely distraught-looking parent, conveying a silent 'yeah, this is what your kid will look like in twelve years if you're not careful, and probably even if you are.' Really, she decided as she finally trudged back onto campus, she should make that a habit. It was like a public service.

What Haruka hadn't anticipated on her return to campus was being ten minutes early. It was a little unnerving; even as she made her first few steps onto campus paranoia set in when she couldn't quickly merge into a huge crowd of people rushing to their next class like the sheeple they were. The best idea, she concluded, was to find a place where there wouldn't be people likely to be patrolling the halls.

As she looked around, she saw the gym, and it occurred to her that the gym teacher would be too busy putting equipment away to notice anyone hanging out in the hallway by the locker rooms.

Flipping her cigarette butt onto the sidewalk for no reason other than to piss the Janitor and/or the administrator who found it off, she strutted inside like she owned the place, as per usual. If you were going to skip, you may as well own up to it, right?

As she made her way to the locker room door, she found that she was not the only one with this idea in mind, apparently: there was another kid waiting outside the locker room, slumped to the floor with his head in his arms. The nosy part of her wanted to know why the hell he was here, but the part of her that didn't give a fuck, well... no deviation from standard procedure there.

And, as per usual, that part won out. Flopping the over-filled black backpack onto the floor with a rather loud thud, she pulled a pack of cigarettes from the front pocket and pulled out a fresh one, sticking it behind her ear to replace the one she had smoked on her way back to campus.

[Juicy !]

The devastating news from his eyes to his brain told Kiba the plan of action was not going to happen. Not today, anyway. There was always a bright side, but if that meant waiting for tomorrow, oh, just fuck it. There'd be no point. It was too past the time and like hell he would save the little bombs for later. If anything was going to happen, it would be today. Today. There was no excuses for tomorrow, since, well, by there there'd be a new plan. A new plan that didn't involve not having a fucking lighter. The most depressing part was simply: He forgot the key ingredient. No one could make their way without that one thing that pulled it together. Cooks don't forget wasabi with sushi, musicians didn't forget the instruments, and chemists don't suddenly forget they needed to add acid so it won't blow up in your face. It was a fact of life, and this, here, just sucked.

Aside from being a total fail (and reminding himself of this every second that passed on the clock), he truthfully didn't think about even being caught. He didn't need to be caught ditching, again. Nor did he need another call to his mother (Monsters in the closet? No, a gun to the face would be less frightening that his mother. Period.) Every second he heard the tiny 'tick' on the clock, Kiba knew he was closer and closer to just being a compete and utter fail; maybe even a fail with a few detentions.. or a suspension, depending on how it would go with the oh-so-asshole of a principal. Life sucks.

Though, truthfully, the loud sound a heavy backpack hitting the floor would be his savior. Who would have guessed, no? It was always the one thing you'd never expect to be the one to save your ass. For others it would be looking in the one place they wouldn't have, for Kiba, it'd be finding something to take the boredom out of his day to wreak some havoc. At first, the brunette boy thought it was a teacher trying to scare the shit out of him to make him admit he was supposed to be in class (even though it was painfully obvious) With a frightened look of potential death, the boy slowly raised his head, gazing from toe to head. His heart pounded for a few seconds knowing what may be in store. However, not everything was as bad as it seemed. If he wasn't up against a wall, he may have jumped a few meters back, but not today. Not today. For who was it? A chick with an agenda. No not really, it was a brightly adorned girl who seemed to be happy to interrupt his mourning period.

Sighing relief, Kiba pushed his hand through his hair, then raised it as if to exclaim his dellema. ”Christ, don't scare me like that. I thought you were a suit coming to drag me away!”To Make things simple and short with the suit being the teachers/administrators and the dragging away meaning the long drawn-out process of having to call his mother and explain the situation then getting detentions assigned to him. Though taking another look, the dog-lover realized just who it was. Though he only remembers meeting a few times here and there, he remembered her name, and who in the hell she was. That was a start for him. In remembrance, for that matter, it clicked in his mind that she was Haruka, the number one chick badass. In his second look he also saw the cigarette in her ear, as he contemplated asking if he could bum one. Though, of course taking a few seconds of staring at the white-papered cigarette, Kiba realized what you light them with. Something flammable. Or that evokes a flame. Either description worked, honestly.

Ginning, the boy looked at her with pleading eyes (the famous puppy dog pout., or whatever rendition Kiba had of it,) He finally spoke up, ”You by chance wana cause some destruction? Maybe help out by giving me a lighter?” His pout turned into his trademark Kiba grin, as he held up the stink/smoke bombs of life. ”You'd be my hero for life. Hell, it'll be an event my grandchildren will still be in debt to you for.” Period. He wanted this. No, he needed this. It was either this or throw them in Kankuro's car. This was better. Way better. It needed to be done.

[¡El Bandito!]

There were times when Haruka would complain that there was not nearly enough anarchy, rebellion, and overall chaos going on at this school.

Where the hell was this guy when she was saying all these things?

"What kind of destruction, you skittish bastard?" she asked with a rather malevolent grin spreading across her face. Never mind she hardly knew the guy, the fact that he had jumped feet in the air when she had dropped her backpack was fuckin' funny. If you did get caught skipping, the best way to get out of it was to keep your shit together and act like you just had a free period or something, rather than acting like you were actually guilty of something... oh how much these underclassmen still had to learn.

But, she realized, she honestly didn't care what the answer to her question was. "Pfff, fuck it," she added after a moment, kneeling down and pulling the lighter from the front pocket of her backpack. "This better be good, though." It was an idle threat, of course - what could she do to him? Rat him out for being out of class? No, it was honestly more of an ironic empty threat than anything else, this short chick (no matter how her reputation might have proceeded her among the younger students) threatening the Junior with... something. What could she do, get him ostracized from his circle of friends? Pfff. Like she cared about that kind of shit even if she could. People took this whole high school thing far too seriously.

She handed him over the lighter - it was a cheap thing, something she had just picked up from the gas station with a pack of cigarettes and not really something she would miss if it was confiscated - and leaned her back against the wall, watching to see what Kiba did with feigned indifference. As much as she tried to act like she was too cool to care, there was just something about a little calamity after a skipped period that Haruka just couldn't resist.