[Fanfiction][Naruto] Chapter 19: Whisper-sown Seeds
Title: Sunergos
Chapter 19: Whisper-sown Seeds
Series: Naruto
Characters: Neji, Hinata, Sakura, Naruto, Sasuke, Hiashi, OC Hyuuga clan members
Word Count: 7810 @__@
Sunergos 19: Whisper-sown Seeds
What with the heat that had engulfed the room, it was easy to forget that they were actually nearing the later days of autumn. An open window served as a reminder, as it let through the whispering glibness of the approaching winter, of snow even, to a more experienced nose. Elsewhere in the vicinity, the most stoic of the Hyuuga could not help but sniff in appreciation-apples, they noted, and not the slightest bit burnt.
Hinata-sama had been trying her hand on pies, but the crusts have been giving her a bit of trouble. Her cousins, half-willing recipients of her resulting work, assured her that taste had nothing to do with presentation. Let the top crust be lopsided, deformed, or scorched, they said, but she knew they were just being nice. (It never occurred to her that being nice back involved stopping her generosity-they couldn't really say no to the heiress, no matter their personal feelings.) After the failure of the pumpkin pies and the coconut pies, her forbearance paid off. She hit gold with the apple crumb.
The recipes were a great help. They had kept her hands busy, her mind free but not enough for her thoughts to wander too far or too deeply. There was a certain detachment that had descended on her, and she had clung to it-never mind the amount of flour, sugar, and coal she had consumed the past week. Hinata was usually a frugal, conscientious child, but no one thought to question the change. The branch members prudently melted out of her way, when she wasn't in the kitchenette she had commandeered.
The week of absent thinking had cooled her head. Hinata valued friendship, but she did not cling, not when the other party had obviously rejected her. Her father was the only person she'd ever still try with, noone else, not really. She understood enough that Sakura was acting as she thought necessary and right. Whatever her reasons, she said something about not wanting to use Hinata. There was a time when Hinata would have let her, but she guessed, a little startled at the realization, that she had gone pretty far from that lonely, despairing hunger to be accepted.
As she had told the mednin, however, Sakura didn't need to tell her to consider Uchiha Sasuke fair and square. She was comfortable enough with him, enough that she found her initial fear of him quite laughable now. He had a sense of humor, too, a little dark, a little sardonic. He was reasonable, and once she had gotten used to him, they did not bother each other with their silences.
The best part of the deal was that they didn't have to pretend they were destined to fall madly in love with each other.
It was during the evening before he left to fulfill the second task levied by her family that she realized this. She didn't supply him any information this time, and because she wasn't told anything, she didn't ask. She had volunteered to supervise the academy students with their after school activities. He had accompanied her.
"You're good with children," he had observed suddenly.
"So I've been told," she had responded, her eyes crinkling. "I like them."
"I'll give you time to get used to it," he said after a long pause.
With a flash of insight, she blurted out, "And how many years would you need?"
Sasuke had actually thrown back his head and laughed. At which point, she couldn't help but join sheepishly.
"Neither of our families have rules about that, at least," he had said drily. "And the old farts wouldn't meddle that far."
"So," Hinata had ventured hesitantly. "You're really sure about this then, Sasuke-san?"
"I have a week to come to a decision." He had looked at her. "So do you."
"I'm pretty much decided," she said quietly, if perhaps, not honestly.
He had snorted, but had allowed her brave words to lie unmolested.
"I think we should both tie our loose ends, though," she added seriously. "I don't think I enjoy being hated after all."
"It comes with the name?" he suggested sardonically.
"I mean, by people I consider my friends."
"..."
"I'm not suggesting you let them decide for you. It's just that I've learned that people aren't so expendable as to trade one for another. Or I can't, anyway. I'm not making any sense, am I?"
"I have a week," he had pointed out again, as if that obviously settled it.
Hinata had sighed, but eventually shook her head and smiled. "Shall we shake hands on that? Final answer in a week?"
They had shaken hands in the playground.
Her reasoning didn't really change since then, a week later. Her answer what was what it was because she had no real reason to say otherwise. She had a feeling this was similar to his reasoning, too, only it wasn't that he had no reason not to, but that it was the easier course.
She was more comfortable with the decision now, and she felt she could truly say it, when the time came to declare the decision. Despite what he told her, she didn't think she needed that amount of time to get used to the idea that their duty was to produce competent successors. It happened sometimes, when the hereditary leaders of a clan fell short of expectations, as with princes and princesses, the effort was shifted to finding the appropriate consort to offset the shortcomings. She had known from the start she was expected to marry a prodigious individual, produce and nurture an heir that was all she wasn't. So really, the idea of having children with a shinobi she didn't know well-or for that matter, Uchiha Sasuke-wasn't at all foreign. It just took a little effort to imagine. . .
She scrunched up her face, conjuring the taciturn jounin in the kitchenette. He would be neat and methodical, would have all the ingredients properly lined up in small bowls, in the order they would be used. The trash can would be beside him for easy access. (That much she knew from stories. Perhaps, he wasn't really as anal as they say.)
Things would be different if he had a little assistant with him. Hinata imagined a little boy with black hair and pale skin into the picture. He'll be just tall enough to rest his chin on the surface of the counter top, to see the project unfold. He waits eagerly for his father's next assignment, but then suddenly he gets impatient and reaches for the nearest bowl. The senior catches the bowl of eggs before they tilt over and a calloused hand with its signature armband would pat the duck butt indulgently. The boy latches on to him, burying his face on his father's shirt, and patting the counter top insistently, till the other relents and hoists him to sit atop their work station.
He helps with the kneading, sort of, smearing lines of white on his father's face. The elder retaliates, of course, running a palm down the toddler's face. The boy laughs and turns to include her in their snug circle, his smiling eyes the cloudless skies' blue.
Hinata started, knocking aside an empty canister with her sudden movement. It tottered a couple of rounds before tilting, spraying a handful of baking soda in the air. In the split-second she had, she sighted the quizzical blue stare beyond the settling dust, and then her eyes squeezed shut as she was succumbed to a long series of sneezes.
"Hullo," he said. "Are you okay?"
"I think so," she managed, after the sneezing passed. "Yes?"
"Oh." He seemed uneasy, like she was about to go berserk. "That's good to hear. The last time I tried to do the choking-rescue-thing, I became wanted for the attempted murder of a Snow country governor."
They were silent as she cleaned up the mess her flailing had created, as she scooped up the spilled powder with a wash cloth and dusted it over the sink. Her heart still thundered in her ears at the surprise of seeing blue eyes both in her mind's eye and in reality. She focused on the damp of the cloth and the coolness of the powder, and eventually, her pulse slowed. Now, that she had ran out of mess to clean up, the quiet turned awkward.
"I figured it out," Naruto announced, just as she was about to open her mouth.
"What did you figure out, Naruto-kun?" she asked after a bit. He had shuffled beside her while she was recovering from her surprise and was now doodling randomly on the granite with a finger.
"Why I was upset. 'Bout you and Sasuke, I mean." He was quite matter-of-fact. "I was jealous."
Hinata thought she may have misheard him.
"You see, Sasuke isn't the type to make friends. He's never really cool with people other than me or Sakura-chan. I guess it felt like he outgrew me or something."
"I think," Hinata said after a thoughtful pause. "It only speaks to how reliant he was on you two, since he never had to try before. With me, he sort of had to?"
"Yeah." Naruto shrugged. "It's not like he even told us."
"He didn't tell me either,” Hinata said sheepishly. “I just gathered. I don’t think he means to exclude you or anything, just that he doesn’t know how to say it.” She smiled tentatively. “I only know because I’m like that sometimes.”
“Well, there’s you, too, I guess,” Naruto said moodily. “Say, we’re pretty tight, aren’t we, Hinata-chan?”
The Hyuuga nodded slowly, unsure of where Naruto was leading the conversation.
“Then suddenly you’re tight with Sasuke.” He scratched the side of his mouth, smearing baking powder on his face and chin. “It’s kind of weird, don’t you think?”
Stymied, the dark-haired girl nodded again.
“It’s like, how do I say it, we’re eating out at Ichiraku’s and he takes my spot even though he knows it’s always been my spot. It’s a sucky analogy but you get it?”
“But we’re still friends, right?” Hinata finally blurted out, wide-eyed. “I mean…”
Equally wide-eyed, Naruto stared at her. “Well, yeah.” He scratched behind his ear this time, powdering his hair and neck at the movement. “I mean, unless you don’t want to be anymore since I’ve been a big jerk about this.”
“I’ll forgive you,” Hinata replied with a straight face. “Eventually.”
The taller ninja squirmed, ran a hand through his hair, and hung an arm on the girl’s shoulder in casual camaraderie. “… You’re not really serious about that ‘eventually,’ are you?” he asked with a forced chuckle.
“I might get a better offer,” Hinata said, uncharacteristically bold. “Till death do us part?”
Naruto laughed then, impulsively throwing his other hand around her and thumping her back. He kissed her just below her right eye. “For luck,” he explained with an impish grin. “You are eventually marrying Sasuke.”
Hinata sneezed.
“…marrying Sasuke.”
She sneezed again.
“Damn, whatever the icicle’s done to you, you’re a riot. And synchronized.”
“Baking powder,” she said. Then, “Would you like some apple crumb? I’ve been told they were edible.”
“Hey, did Shino give you these apples?” The blond jounin was suddenly grave. “’Cause I’m not touching it.”
After Hinata assured him no, he proceeded to tell her about his recent mission with her old teammate, in between generous mouthfuls of the pastry and yelps of “hot!” and “this is soooo good!” His friend nodded quietly with a smile, but was uncharacteristically only half listening. Hinata was distracted by a newborn notion, busy with turning over a discovery that was too tantalizing to be frightening. Amazing, she thought, that it didn’t take much for this boy to intrude upon her rosy imaginings when once upon a time, she would have never dared----never mind it being a sacrilege or a corruption of the greater world order, her mind wouldn’t have even made the connections.
But there it was. In it was a kitchen in disarray, a wooden floor tracked with tiny footprints of floor, and a dark-haired child with eyes of startling blue.
It wasn’t so foreign either, was it, she mused to herself.
In this manner, she marveled, and so the day progressed into afternoon.
###
It wasn’t typical for a family council to be called at midday. Neji had once given a short but extensive exposition to the piddling few Hyuuga genins on why scheduled councils were called when they were, with both the official and hidden reasons, but was in a good enough mood not to mention the root cause: the Hyuuga elders had a hidden streak of theatricality. Candle-lit meetings an hour before daylight allowed the younger nins time for audience before they left for missions at dawn, while the elders often had no need of that much sleep. (There were other colorful comments that alluded to their vanity, but Hanabi phrased those observations best.)
Also atypical was how the full assembly of every available Hyuuga was already gathered in the dark room, the fire pit and the collection of bodies making the freezing cellar a stifling pit, uncomplaining with their white-eyed stoic, but murmuring questions. Even with impromptu meetings, it was the supplicant that first came into the room, standing in the darkness and blinded by the fire, projecting his worst anxieties on the swirling shadows made by the placid, ordered arrival of his kinsmen.
Neji stormed into the gathering with iron purpose, sedately reflecting the quick, unreadable glances of his various relations. Despite the odd timing of the meeting, more people than usual were in attendance, some even forgoing lunches or siestas. He had made no secret of his investigation, only of his results. See, he had learned from Maito Gai and his old cellmates. Neji, too, could squeeze every last bit of melodrama from a given situation, if necessary, if it would give him the reaction he needed. Years of unwilling practice proved he could craft a performance as well as any of the ancient prunes fancying themselves in control of the clan.
“We shall start now,” he announced as soon as he reached his appointed place.
“Hinata-sama has not come,” observed one of the aforementioned dried fruits.
“And she will not. We will begin.”
His uncle, Hiashi nodded his approval.
“I assume, you will be discussing issues pertinent to Hinata-sama,” Hanatarou pointed out delicately. “Then perhaps, she should be present to defend herself, if need be?”
“She shall not need to,” Neji responded in a voice that boded no argument. “There are certain truths you might be less inclined to reveal in her presence, for fear of giving offense.”
“Are you implying the threat to Hinata-sama is among us?”
“I do not presume to possess the wisdom to judge the guilt of any one in this room, but I will get to the bottom of this, even if I need to dredge this pit for evidence.”
He motioned for one of the ceremonial guards to bring for him a sheaf of old documents to the elders.
“This was found among Hinata-sama’s belongings, something she was given when she came of age.”
“Neji-sama,” came the diffident response from one of the younger council members. “This is a pillow book. Er, a book of---”
“Erotic poetry meant to instruct a young woman of her responsibilities as a wife,” Neji finished. “That is exactly what I thought when Hanabi-sama first called my attention to what she called the swirly box.”
He held up a decorative box to the assembly. Even in the low light, most of the family could make out the opaline whorls on the dark, glossy surface.
“I thought it a legacy left behind by Hinata-sama’s esteemed mother, and did not pursue it, until lately. My kinsmen, I have additional information that pointed to the fact that there is a possibility that this is not merely a pillow book, but a contract. A few direct inquiries revealed that this is not in fact the emblem of the Ginta family, from whence Hiashi-sama’s beloved wife was born. The pillow book was hand-carved from volcanic rock only mined on the mountains ringing the northwestern border of the Lightning country.”
The room was silent, save for the crackling of firewood.
“What else was agreed upon when my father’s body was given in exchange for fleeting peace?” Neji continued, implacable and inexorable. “What is the agreement bound upon Hinata-sama's body?"
It was a masssively self-assured woman that spoke to break the clawing tension in the room. "You better be prepared to give proof to support your allegations,” she warned Neji, a bit too insolently. “It is a serious thing to accuse this council of selling the next head of the clan to the enemy. Explain--"
"There will be enough of this," the head of the family interrupted. "It appears my nephew has uncovered truths that link the current events with our worst fears. So be it.
"Eighteen years ago, it was agreed that a male heir of the Sanada family shall be given as consort to my daughter as an expression of good will, unless the Sanada child is called to greater service."
"Hiashi-sama--!!" protested one of the older members.
"What service is this?" the woman, Maram, after a moment’s falter, asked in a more respectful tone.
"A candidate for Raikage. In this case, the Hyuuga child will become consort and be given to the Cloud nins. This agreement was writ in both their bodies."
Neji was shaking. "With all due respect,” he grounded out, not at all conveying any sort of respect whatsoever. “I fail to understand why my father died to keep Hiashi-sama from falling into the hands of Cloud but at the same stroke gave away his heir and the same Hyuuga secrets.”
"It is not that simple, boy," said a wizened old man who rarely spoke. "Gaining a member of the Sanada family on goodwill is far too good a prospect to simply ignore. Hinata-sama was bound to Kasuga's fourth son and the incumbent head of Sanada was a formidable kunoichi that took over the family at a young age without any sign of weakening to her male relatives. The possibility of Hinata-sama having to join him in Cloud was very remote."
"If you believe the chance so remote, why was Hinata-sama being shoved to every possible man of power since she was seventeen?"
"Because she is my child," Hiashi said. There was no other explanation to make and none other in the assembly dared to ask him to elaborate.
It was Hanatarou who spoke after the nervous pause. "The second child, Sanada Meiro's brother died. The council urged Hiashi-sama to seek an appropriate husband for Hinata-sama, to champion her."
"And you found such a person on one Uchiha Sasuke."
"His pedigree and reputation rivals that of the Sanada boy. In this case, his ruthless campaign as a missing nin comes with an infamy and prodigy that very few can deny."
"And if Sasuke doesn't feel like championing anybody?"
"Tomoe Meiro is the head of the Sanada clan and a candidate for the Raikage ascendency race. It is not likely to be necessary."
"Unless this Meiro is immortal, I can't see it as being impossible."
"How is this pertinent to the investigation on Hinata-sama's safety?" asked Maram, the youngest member, obviously shocked by all she has heard.
"If Hinata-sama is a possble asset to a possible candidate for the Raikage ascendency, we cannot dismiss the possibility of Bloodshanks wanting her as leverage or, failing that, out of the way."
Hiashi looked at Neji. "The pillow book also contains instructions on how to unseal the Anahata gate, but both parties must be present. Hanabi has gone abroad to investigate the nature of the Anahata gate seal."
Neji retuned the look, unperturbed. "I will analyze the agreement,” he said.
He departed from the council as brusquely and unceremoniously as he came, trailed by the irate questions, warnings, and prognostications of the council members. He ignored most of them, intent on the answer that was beginning to unveil before him.
###
The sun was hovering over the horizon when Sasuke arrived from his hush-hush mission. Weather in general didn’t bother him, but it was with some relief he welcomed the milder conditions of Konoha. Even he, at the height of the snowstorm he had to pass through, thought that he’d never be warm again.
He was not the type to let his thoughts wander so far that he would forget his bearings---not these days at least. The nature of the curse seal was such that he became vigilant over the years, that he had to make sure he had the least chance of being caught by surprise as possible. That evening, he didn’t find himself waking the routine walk to the assignment center. He detoured and found himself standing at her door.
It shouldn’t have been a problem, but see, he had already knocked.
Her father opened the door for him, but merely trained a long, weighing look on the jounin before nodding in greeting and letting him through. Sasuke made his way up the narrow rickety stairway to her room, while her father melted back into the kitchen to his cooking, instead of inviting him for dinner or asking about how his vegetable garden was faring in the colder than normal weather.
When she didn’t answer his knocks, he merely let himself in. As he did not sustain bodily injury within the next few seconds, he assumed she was simply that much engrossed in her studies and had chosen to ignore him.
Sakura, being the braniac that she was, had perhaps discovered an alternative way to study. Her head was buried in a mound of scrolls and books, her light snoring loud in the silent room. Her window was open to let the chilly gusts of wind in and her pink, likely uncombed, hair shifted once in a while as a result. A thin rivulet of drool meandered down her chin, into her arm, and into the open book she used as a pillow.
Perhaps, it was her coloring that made it seem like she was so easy to crush and damage. Her hair was suggestive of limp blooms, a little more than weeds that were easy to trample, defenseless. It was difficult for him to keep in mind that she wasn’t, because she was once as weak as she now only seemed to be; he once had to protect her constantly. It was strange how little habits that were adopted during ones formative years remain with oneself forever, became near immutable and impossible to break, even after passing through the life-altering flames of hell. It wasn’t because he didn’t respect her. It was merely instinct, muscle memory.
And perhaps, that was it---why did she let him? The usual contempt he associated with her was as strong as ever, but whereas before she irritated him with her mediocrity and normalcy and helplessness, those conditions no longer existed. She seemed to instinctively want to hide behind him and Naruto all the time, out of fear, out of some desire to be their safety net should they step beyond bounds their society set. He wanted to rip away her meek façade of martyrdom----she was the best in what she did, she was at least half as bat-shit crazy as he was, and it had been years since she might have really died without either their help. It was far healthier to protect a town (or the world, for that matter), and he had gotten that message loud and clear. She didn’t need to stand still on his account. She didn’t need to keep babysitting him.
He wasn’t delusional to think it would be easy to just float away from each other. It had been too safe with her, and human nature, she would say, would always yearn for the easier track. Change was difficult. The very idea of being shut out of her life was strangely enraging. And that was Sakura in his head---a few parts contemptible, another few exasperating, another part infuriating, and the rest a chameleon of an inseparable mess of emotions. Knots tangled to such a degree were much safer to cut out, rather than unravel. It would be healthy for both of them; in a calmer mind frame, she would approve of it.
He decided finally to pick her up from the chair and move her to her bed. She was cold like death and for a moment he forgot to breathe. He couldn’t lie; he was wary of her startling and fatally wounding him in self-defense. If he woke her up, she’d probably insist on resuming her studies. If she were in already bed, she might find the effort of getting up troublesome and an effective deterrent. Naturally, he expected her to wake during the course of the transfer; he was just banking on her not waking up immediately from sheer exhaustion.
By the time he pulled the blankets about her, she had opened her eyes to stare at him curiously---she had done as much for him before. Why must she think it so strange? There was still quite a bit of sleep on her face, like she wasn’t really making an effort to distinguish between dream and reality.
“Yo,” she said.
He nodded in response.
“Long time no see, Sasuke-kun.”
“Aa.”
And they were quiet again as she drifted in and out of her doze.
“I like the fur lining on your hoodie,” she said languorously. “Didn’t think you the type, but it does fit your pale beauty.”
He would have rolled his eyes. It was amazing how forward the little twit had become over the years. She wouldn’t have had the guts to call him beautiful to his face when they were twelve years old.
“But back to business. How can I help you?”
Why must it always be her helping him?
“I’m going to get married,” he said.
“I heard that might be,” she replied after a while. He was beginning to think she had fallen back to sleep again. “So why are you telling me?”
“…?”
“We’ve avoided each other for a quite some time, you know. Just surprised you came all the way here, after such a long trip, just to tell me that. You must have had less sleep than me.”
“It’s the sort of thing friends do.”
She blinked several times, as if to moisten her eyes, and then she lifted her head to look at him. “Thank you,” she said simply. “Congratulations.”
He nodded and she slid back to her pillows. “Hinata-chan has the aptitude.” Her words were slurring once again. “I can teach her the basics for now, but then eventually, she’ll be able to tackle a level two.”
“And beyond that?”
“…Let’s just say, I am at the cusp of a… breakthrough,” she murmured with great effort. “Once we hammer down... protocol. No need for me… Come running. Odd hours. Niiigh…”
Sakura started to snore at that point.
The sun was low in the sky when Sasuke left through her window.
###
That information existed in neatly collated and deciphered batches was a convenience not often found in real life. Thus, missions involving the confiscation---even better, the clandestine replication----of such treasure troves were considered among the riskiest and most expensive in the business. In fact, if any collection did exist, it wasn’t generally advertised by the select few who owned and controlled it.
That was the irony of Neji’s mission that started with merely escorting his cousin about the village. Even within the village walls, it was a given to treat the information in their archives as suspect and with a grain of salt. There could always be something omitted or unaccounted for. A true investigation did not rely solely on documents but on arduous field work and keen reconnaissance. They were by no means invaluable, of course, but they were merely guiding points.
Missions relied on both the clients’ pay and the village’s collective resources. The manpower relegated to missions that served individuals and certain clans, as opposed to the interests of the entirety, were sometimes classified as less important. This tendency has gotten arguably better over the decades-the village took care of its own fiercely and drew strength in this tight-knit solidarity, but as with anything there were chinks.
The Hyuuga clan was granted two Class A missions that quarter, in addition to having two jounins pulled out of the active rosters indefinitely (and as it turned out, a jounin-functioning chuunin, as well). Considering how those two Class A missions occupied another jounin for weeks at a time, the Hyuuga were definitely pulling all strings to have their problem taken care of as smoothly and quietly as possible, while retaining the stoic dignity of their name.
Neji considered how much the village government knew about the problem. He was now given free rein to peruse the information that Tenten had needed to smuggle to him weeks ago. He hadn’t, didn’t expect to find anything new, but the cold storage pods that snaked underneath bits of the village bedrock afforded him the privacy to, if not fall to pieces, shudder within his skin, shriek within his skull.
For the first time in ten years, he doubted the truths behind his father’s death.
It was only natural that even a person like Neji, who for that brief first years of his life was so loved, would refuse to believe that a parent had chosen an ultimately selfish desire over his own child. For years, he nursed his hatred of the main family on the belief that his father was forced to die for his brother, as he could not believe his father would willingly just go when he had a son to raise. And after he was told the truth, even now, in the secret corners of his mind, he had could not accept the fact that his father took the lone avenue for escape and left him behind, left him in that same elegantly-wrought cage all of them sought to escape.
That his uncle had humbled himself years ago to explain the intentions of his father when he took Hiashi’s place in the exchange, one cadaver for another, spoke of Hiashi’s belief on the matter. Hizashi’s exodus may have led to the path of the dead, but it was a path dearly chosen and bought. That sacrifice rippled through his family in ways that extended beyond Neji himself. The brotherly bond between the twins, entwined as it was with a hatred borne by their fates, was something Neji would never be privy to. The Spartan treatment of the Hyuuga heiress was no doubt testament to this. Beyond the unfathomable mask he wore as the Hyuuga head, what resentments did Hiashi bore his brother? His daughter? His self?
Many a man had lamented Neji’s being borne of the wrong father. It seemed some of these men had seen a way around this problem.
“You asked what will happen should Uchiha Sasuke refuse to champion our heiress,” Hanatarou had said in his annoying, superior way. He had accosted Neji on a seemingly empty hallway in the mansion. “There is any number of individuals, who fit the bill of prodigious ninja in our village---surely, the succession of tragedies, albeit deeply unfortunate, have steered to surface such distinctive individuals. However, less than a handful will truly be able to place our heiress’s best interests, and therefore the clan’s, to heart. “
The man, for once, did not balk under Neji’s steely expression. His unflinching look hinted on an honest, quiet hope that made the jounin remain to listen to the rest of what he had to say.
“There is precedence. The general public may frown upon such an affront to their sensibilities, but they will accept it as part of our clan’s eccentricities.
“Therefore, Hyuuga Neji, in the name of our family do I ask you to weigh your options well and see beyond what is merely tangible, as your father had before you. Perhaps, you will find he did not abandon you without guidance, after all.”
To have such a tantalizing possibility dangled in front of his face… there was no space for Neji to even know what he was thinking. The bitterness that had subsided for years, congealed, multiplied, took form and fisted in his heart. It overrode the logical order of his thoughts and distracted him from focusing on the problem at hand. First, the possibility of lifting the bird seal curse on forehead, and now this?
It was very easy, rationally-speaking, to choose what step to take next. Challenging Sasuke to take his place as Hinata-sama’s suitor (and later her betrothed and eventual husband), to pre-empt the slight chance of her being claimed by Sanada Kasuga’s fourth son, would not solve anything. There was still the question of Hinata-sama’s safety: was Bloodshanks a fluke, a lone man who took a chance? Or was he a tiny cog in larger machinations? That question remained, and the answers suggested by the information he had collated was not comforting.
(And yet another question, one he was man enough to confess he was not prepared to answer yet: given the possibilities, what did he want? Must one enter a room just because its door was unlocked? Or a better analogy, would a song bird fly away, if its golden cage was left open? Did it recognize those bars served as protection as well and would that deter him from embracing the clear skies and seeking passage to the sun itself just because nothing stood to stop him from trying?)
The lone tendril of doubt that was seeded in his heart steadily vined its way up Neji’s brain, with the insidiousness and tenacious permanence of a weed.
It was impossible to ignore.
###
Some people might accuse Uzumaki Naruto of being superstitious, but more would claim that to be impossible---he didn’t have enough forethought to base decisions on a thought-out idea, irrational or not. Still, there had to be something lucky about the way he kept running a finger across his lower lip when he wasn’t paying attention. Once or twice, he even caught his tongue doing the odd, searching touch, as if expecting the remnants of a sweet there, like dried bean paste from that rice cake the street sweeper shared with him this morning, before he had to rush off with the Garlic Guy.
Well. He didn’t expect to feel that much better.
Up until the time he spent creeping through the holy halls of Hyuuga (he couldn’t help it; nobody was nice enough to lead the way) and finally finding the kitchenette after getting lost twice, he didn’t now what he was going to say. Then, she was there, and it was far too much trouble to get lost again. He decided talk to her, trust whatever came out of his mouth, and resolved not to leave till everything was fine again.
It all came out in the open, how he felt suddenly unneeded by two of his closest friends, how he felt lost, thinking his place in their lives had been replaced.
Hinata-chan felt so much like Hinata-chan today, that Naruto knew nothing was going to change, after all. They’d still talk for hours about random things, hang out over bowls of ramen and make fun of her funny family customs, maybe have missions together once her assassin problem got taken care of. It was all so normal that he couldn’t remember why had made such a big deal about it. Why, being able to make fun of Sasuke with Hinata was such a load off his shoulders that it felt like…. Well, it’s like when you eat something that disagrees with your belly and you have rip-roaring stomachache? And you’re on the move and there’s no bathroom, and it’ll be a bad idea to just find a bush and let it rip, ‘cause getting killed while taking a dump is just wrong, and after holding it in for forever, you finally get to a safe place and you’re beside yourself finding a toilet and you pull down your pants and bear down even before the door slams shut?
Holey moley, but it was that feeling.
Hinata-chan couldn’t join him for an early supper at the Ichiraku’s that evening.
“Not tonight, sonny,” the sentry had told him with an odd catch in his gruff voice. Funny, Naruto had always thought the guy detested him and now he was getting touchy-feely? “Hinata-sama has a set engagement for tonight.”
What did piss him off was how the doorkeeper knew what Hinata-chan herself didn’t know, but he was distracted from his snit by a light tap on his shoulder.
“Why don’t you give him my share?” Hinata had said with a wry smile. “Hino-san, why don’t you split it, set my share aside, and I’ll come by for it later? Sometimes, I don’t get enough to eat in these functions.”
“A midnight snack!” Naruto exclaimed, smashing his fist on a palm. “That’s awesome, but I have a mission early tomorrow and Baba said she’ll rip me a new one if I oversleep again.” The blond ninja frowned. “She said I’m more of an embarrassment than that grabby, lightning kid… what grabby lightning kid?”
That bit was disappointing, but the general tenor of his mood upon leaving the Hyuuga sector was high, euphoric. So euphoric, in fact, that he felt like could talk to Sasuke now and it won’t degenerate into a contest of killing each other more creatively. He decided that he was far less likely to try if both of them had steaming bowls of ramen before them. That sealed the deal as far as Naruto was concerned; he ordered several varieties of flavor to go. Sasuke ate like a dieting girl sometimes, so he’d probably only pick a flavor or two randomly. Naruto would get to keep the rest.
The Uchiha sector was deserted---it usually was---but Sasuke was supposed to have returned that day. Naruto had even checked first with the village gate-watchers, who told him that Sasuke had arrived home that morning. He figured Sasuke would have gone for debriefing first. Some missions were so involved that people have been locked up for days, working with specialists to analyze data or events, but that couldn’t be the case this time, could it? The blond ninja must have looked so down in the dumps that an ANBU appeared to speak to him.
“Your boyfriend came home four hours ago, puttered around his mausoleum for a bit, and went to Missions Assignment.”
Naruto ought to have beaten the bastard black and blue for that jibe, but his hands were full. He considered that thank you enough for the kindly informant and so walked around aimlessly for a bit.
He sat down in somebody’s garden set (not in the ghost-infested Uchihaville, of course) and ate a bowl and a half of ramen before figuring he should go to Sakura’s place.
“Hey, Mister Haru… no…” Naruto’s cheerful greeting sputtered to a stop when the Haruno’s door opened to the homicidal face of Sakura’s father. “Uh, I, erm, just wanted to see if Sakura-chan wanted some ramen. If it’s a bad time I’ll just… leave.”
Sakura’s father seemed to work his jaw for a good minute before answering.
“Good,” he said quietly. “She might eat that.”
That was Naruto’s first warning that something was wrong. His mood was still happy, but now tempered with caution. Sakura, after all, was not unknown to deal with negative emotion by pummeling some unlucky idiot who aggravated her further.
He didn’t want to be that idiot.
The second bad sign was when he found himself unharmed minutes after entering her dark room without knocking. (The door was ajar and he didn’t exactly have an available fist to use.)
He figured out where she was in the darkness by the sound of successive hiccups.
“Oh, there you are, Sa-”
“Don’t take another step!” she cried out. “Some asshat left my rolling chair in the middle of the doorway where anybody can just trip and break their neck. S-sorry it’s dark. I was trying to study and I kicked my lamp to bits now, so I can’t study anymore. And if you spill anything in my room, I’ll make you lick it! With bleach!”
Her genin cellmate froze instantly, well-learned from previous threats left unheeded. He zeroed in on the sound of his friend’s voice, however, and whatever body injury he’d receive for his impertinence, he couldn’t let this pass.
“You’re crying,” he snarled, instantly furious. So that’s where his missing friend had been, here, making their friend cry. Only one person could reduce Sakura to tears she could not stop when she needed to. Sakura had not cried in front of them for years now. She wouldn’t have been caught dead.
“I-I know!” she said miserably. “It’s the stupidest thing, and I can’t stop!”
“Sakura-chan-”
“Don’t say it! Don’t. Just don’t.” Naruto’s eyes had adjusted enough that she could make out her shape, sitting on the floor near her desk, nestled by what look liked piles of books and documents. “I know. I know, I know, I know! I’m a hypocrite. I’m so full of myself that I thought it was impossible. I thought we were enough for him, Naruto. I thought he wouldn’t---he’d never---give in to what they want, that he’d just pretend to go on and pull out of it and entrap them in their own schemes!
“I focused on getting him out of the trouble he’d land in, when he rebelled. But he didn’t, and now, now… I don’t know! I didn’t think he could decide like this so quickly. I’m just, I’m just---I’m a horrible person, Naruto. There are---there are no words---”
Naruto stared at her through the stack of ramen, taken aback that she seemed to be intent on pulling out her hair, mop-like in the semi-darkness. “I think I know what you feel, Sakura-chan,” he said uncertainly. “But Sasuke and Hinata-chan… even if they marry, it’s not like… they’ll still be our friends, you know?”
“I don’t want to be friends with Sasuke,” the mednin snapped. “And don’t give me that rigmarole about being the stupidest girl in the world! I am so sick and tired of hearing Ino, tell me that I have to be pathologic to even like that ba-ass-motherfu---him. I was perfectly fine! It was perfectly fine the way it was. I mean, he was just there. He was always supposed to be there, and we could be friends. I mean, we were, but what rights do I have now, Naruto?
“Tell me, what rights do I have? To call myself his friend when I didn’t think even for a moment that if he doesn’t get over his aversion to human contact, his line would end with him? What sort of friend am I, Naruto? I, who can wish, had wished, a friend to just stay static and unwell and just--just fucked up the way he is, just because I want to keep him leashed to me?”
Naruto let her self-directed diatribe hang in the air for a moment. It was so ironic how he thought her a goddess at that moment, when she had always been the sort who bloomed oh-so-beautifully when she was happy and everything was well in her minutely-ordered world. But the fury of emotions made her usually pale cheeks vivid, and the pink of her hair seemed silver-blue under the sliver of streetlight that flickered on from outside the shuttered window her desk faced. She looked at him with all her despair, the tears in her eyes pearled white by the rising moon. The vision struck him like a blow to his chest.
“Do you love him?” he finally asked.
She hissed for a breath in between sobs, then spoke angrily. “Why?” she demanded. “Don’t you?”
“I’m asking you.”
She stopped, wiping her face with a knuckle, and stared down on her cluttered floor.
“I’m asking you,” he repeated quietly when she still didn’t answer.
“… I do love him.”
“Then,” he said with an explosive sigh, as if he were the one in pain. “You’ll do something about this.”
She looked up at the shaking challenge in his voice. “Yes,” she said, steel returning to hers. “I’ll be fine tomorrow.”
He disagreed and the set of his jaw gave it away.
“It’s a good thing,” she insisted. “I need to get this all out. I’d be fine tomorrow. But for now…” Her voice wavered again, teetered on the verge of a wail. “But for tonight, it should be fine, right? If I think of this as something at the scale of the end of the world, you won’t think less of me? It’s okay, right, Naruto?”
Naruto was speechless, unable to interrupt the mixed-up, contradictory monologue, but unable to take more of it without leaving there and then and murdering somebody. All he could be was be his usual self, and see how she would be tomorrow. Because for all his anger, for all his hurt, what he learned the past few weeks stayed true. He couldn’t go around demanding people to change their feelings to suit his understanding of the world. So even if he had been right about Sakura, if Hinata was settled with Sasuke, and Sasuke was settled with Hinata, what right had he to decide Sasuke belonged to Sakura?
(Or that Sakura belonged to him when she clearly wanted to belong to someone else?)
He pushed all that away for the moment and stepped carefully around the scattered scrolls on the floor. He asked her to make room for his bowls, because he couldn’t feel his arms anymore. Startled, she did as she was told, and allowed him to badger her into eating a bowl of ramen, assuring her that he’d stay at least half an hour after, long enough for the food she ingested to go down all the way to her stomach, as she always scolded him about. The rest of the night would be hers to study or sleep, whatever she wanted.
Sakura in turn waited till her friend was too far to hear her, before she resumed her crying, coiled up under the covers, now in her bed.
When Naruto left the Haruno home, he looked up and saw the dardnest thing.
There was no moon.
01112011 0037
Egads. The last bit was finally encoded/re-written. Thank you “Like A Star” radio station in Pandora for setting up the mood so well.
It’s not that bad. (Yes, I keep telling myself that.) I think that’s really the only way for Hinata to move away from her current trajectory. I think it’s the hero worship thing she has with Naruto that she’d need to get over with eventually.
@__@ And now, to work on tonight's 31_days piece.
Chapter 19: Whisper-sown Seeds
Series: Naruto
Characters: Neji, Hinata, Sakura, Naruto, Sasuke, Hiashi, OC Hyuuga clan members
Word Count: 7810 @__@
Sunergos 19: Whisper-sown Seeds
What with the heat that had engulfed the room, it was easy to forget that they were actually nearing the later days of autumn. An open window served as a reminder, as it let through the whispering glibness of the approaching winter, of snow even, to a more experienced nose. Elsewhere in the vicinity, the most stoic of the Hyuuga could not help but sniff in appreciation-apples, they noted, and not the slightest bit burnt.
Hinata-sama had been trying her hand on pies, but the crusts have been giving her a bit of trouble. Her cousins, half-willing recipients of her resulting work, assured her that taste had nothing to do with presentation. Let the top crust be lopsided, deformed, or scorched, they said, but she knew they were just being nice. (It never occurred to her that being nice back involved stopping her generosity-they couldn't really say no to the heiress, no matter their personal feelings.) After the failure of the pumpkin pies and the coconut pies, her forbearance paid off. She hit gold with the apple crumb.
The recipes were a great help. They had kept her hands busy, her mind free but not enough for her thoughts to wander too far or too deeply. There was a certain detachment that had descended on her, and she had clung to it-never mind the amount of flour, sugar, and coal she had consumed the past week. Hinata was usually a frugal, conscientious child, but no one thought to question the change. The branch members prudently melted out of her way, when she wasn't in the kitchenette she had commandeered.
The week of absent thinking had cooled her head. Hinata valued friendship, but she did not cling, not when the other party had obviously rejected her. Her father was the only person she'd ever still try with, noone else, not really. She understood enough that Sakura was acting as she thought necessary and right. Whatever her reasons, she said something about not wanting to use Hinata. There was a time when Hinata would have let her, but she guessed, a little startled at the realization, that she had gone pretty far from that lonely, despairing hunger to be accepted.
As she had told the mednin, however, Sakura didn't need to tell her to consider Uchiha Sasuke fair and square. She was comfortable enough with him, enough that she found her initial fear of him quite laughable now. He had a sense of humor, too, a little dark, a little sardonic. He was reasonable, and once she had gotten used to him, they did not bother each other with their silences.
The best part of the deal was that they didn't have to pretend they were destined to fall madly in love with each other.
It was during the evening before he left to fulfill the second task levied by her family that she realized this. She didn't supply him any information this time, and because she wasn't told anything, she didn't ask. She had volunteered to supervise the academy students with their after school activities. He had accompanied her.
"You're good with children," he had observed suddenly.
"So I've been told," she had responded, her eyes crinkling. "I like them."
"I'll give you time to get used to it," he said after a long pause.
With a flash of insight, she blurted out, "And how many years would you need?"
Sasuke had actually thrown back his head and laughed. At which point, she couldn't help but join sheepishly.
"Neither of our families have rules about that, at least," he had said drily. "And the old farts wouldn't meddle that far."
"So," Hinata had ventured hesitantly. "You're really sure about this then, Sasuke-san?"
"I have a week to come to a decision." He had looked at her. "So do you."
"I'm pretty much decided," she said quietly, if perhaps, not honestly.
He had snorted, but had allowed her brave words to lie unmolested.
"I think we should both tie our loose ends, though," she added seriously. "I don't think I enjoy being hated after all."
"It comes with the name?" he suggested sardonically.
"I mean, by people I consider my friends."
"..."
"I'm not suggesting you let them decide for you. It's just that I've learned that people aren't so expendable as to trade one for another. Or I can't, anyway. I'm not making any sense, am I?"
"I have a week," he had pointed out again, as if that obviously settled it.
Hinata had sighed, but eventually shook her head and smiled. "Shall we shake hands on that? Final answer in a week?"
They had shaken hands in the playground.
Her reasoning didn't really change since then, a week later. Her answer what was what it was because she had no real reason to say otherwise. She had a feeling this was similar to his reasoning, too, only it wasn't that he had no reason not to, but that it was the easier course.
She was more comfortable with the decision now, and she felt she could truly say it, when the time came to declare the decision. Despite what he told her, she didn't think she needed that amount of time to get used to the idea that their duty was to produce competent successors. It happened sometimes, when the hereditary leaders of a clan fell short of expectations, as with princes and princesses, the effort was shifted to finding the appropriate consort to offset the shortcomings. She had known from the start she was expected to marry a prodigious individual, produce and nurture an heir that was all she wasn't. So really, the idea of having children with a shinobi she didn't know well-or for that matter, Uchiha Sasuke-wasn't at all foreign. It just took a little effort to imagine. . .
She scrunched up her face, conjuring the taciturn jounin in the kitchenette. He would be neat and methodical, would have all the ingredients properly lined up in small bowls, in the order they would be used. The trash can would be beside him for easy access. (That much she knew from stories. Perhaps, he wasn't really as anal as they say.)
Things would be different if he had a little assistant with him. Hinata imagined a little boy with black hair and pale skin into the picture. He'll be just tall enough to rest his chin on the surface of the counter top, to see the project unfold. He waits eagerly for his father's next assignment, but then suddenly he gets impatient and reaches for the nearest bowl. The senior catches the bowl of eggs before they tilt over and a calloused hand with its signature armband would pat the duck butt indulgently. The boy latches on to him, burying his face on his father's shirt, and patting the counter top insistently, till the other relents and hoists him to sit atop their work station.
He helps with the kneading, sort of, smearing lines of white on his father's face. The elder retaliates, of course, running a palm down the toddler's face. The boy laughs and turns to include her in their snug circle, his smiling eyes the cloudless skies' blue.
Hinata started, knocking aside an empty canister with her sudden movement. It tottered a couple of rounds before tilting, spraying a handful of baking soda in the air. In the split-second she had, she sighted the quizzical blue stare beyond the settling dust, and then her eyes squeezed shut as she was succumbed to a long series of sneezes.
"Hullo," he said. "Are you okay?"
"I think so," she managed, after the sneezing passed. "Yes?"
"Oh." He seemed uneasy, like she was about to go berserk. "That's good to hear. The last time I tried to do the choking-rescue-thing, I became wanted for the attempted murder of a Snow country governor."
They were silent as she cleaned up the mess her flailing had created, as she scooped up the spilled powder with a wash cloth and dusted it over the sink. Her heart still thundered in her ears at the surprise of seeing blue eyes both in her mind's eye and in reality. She focused on the damp of the cloth and the coolness of the powder, and eventually, her pulse slowed. Now, that she had ran out of mess to clean up, the quiet turned awkward.
"I figured it out," Naruto announced, just as she was about to open her mouth.
"What did you figure out, Naruto-kun?" she asked after a bit. He had shuffled beside her while she was recovering from her surprise and was now doodling randomly on the granite with a finger.
"Why I was upset. 'Bout you and Sasuke, I mean." He was quite matter-of-fact. "I was jealous."
Hinata thought she may have misheard him.
"You see, Sasuke isn't the type to make friends. He's never really cool with people other than me or Sakura-chan. I guess it felt like he outgrew me or something."
"I think," Hinata said after a thoughtful pause. "It only speaks to how reliant he was on you two, since he never had to try before. With me, he sort of had to?"
"Yeah." Naruto shrugged. "It's not like he even told us."
"He didn't tell me either,” Hinata said sheepishly. “I just gathered. I don’t think he means to exclude you or anything, just that he doesn’t know how to say it.” She smiled tentatively. “I only know because I’m like that sometimes.”
“Well, there’s you, too, I guess,” Naruto said moodily. “Say, we’re pretty tight, aren’t we, Hinata-chan?”
The Hyuuga nodded slowly, unsure of where Naruto was leading the conversation.
“Then suddenly you’re tight with Sasuke.” He scratched the side of his mouth, smearing baking powder on his face and chin. “It’s kind of weird, don’t you think?”
Stymied, the dark-haired girl nodded again.
“It’s like, how do I say it, we’re eating out at Ichiraku’s and he takes my spot even though he knows it’s always been my spot. It’s a sucky analogy but you get it?”
“But we’re still friends, right?” Hinata finally blurted out, wide-eyed. “I mean…”
Equally wide-eyed, Naruto stared at her. “Well, yeah.” He scratched behind his ear this time, powdering his hair and neck at the movement. “I mean, unless you don’t want to be anymore since I’ve been a big jerk about this.”
“I’ll forgive you,” Hinata replied with a straight face. “Eventually.”
The taller ninja squirmed, ran a hand through his hair, and hung an arm on the girl’s shoulder in casual camaraderie. “… You’re not really serious about that ‘eventually,’ are you?” he asked with a forced chuckle.
“I might get a better offer,” Hinata said, uncharacteristically bold. “Till death do us part?”
Naruto laughed then, impulsively throwing his other hand around her and thumping her back. He kissed her just below her right eye. “For luck,” he explained with an impish grin. “You are eventually marrying Sasuke.”
Hinata sneezed.
“…marrying Sasuke.”
She sneezed again.
“Damn, whatever the icicle’s done to you, you’re a riot. And synchronized.”
“Baking powder,” she said. Then, “Would you like some apple crumb? I’ve been told they were edible.”
“Hey, did Shino give you these apples?” The blond jounin was suddenly grave. “’Cause I’m not touching it.”
After Hinata assured him no, he proceeded to tell her about his recent mission with her old teammate, in between generous mouthfuls of the pastry and yelps of “hot!” and “this is soooo good!” His friend nodded quietly with a smile, but was uncharacteristically only half listening. Hinata was distracted by a newborn notion, busy with turning over a discovery that was too tantalizing to be frightening. Amazing, she thought, that it didn’t take much for this boy to intrude upon her rosy imaginings when once upon a time, she would have never dared----never mind it being a sacrilege or a corruption of the greater world order, her mind wouldn’t have even made the connections.
But there it was. In it was a kitchen in disarray, a wooden floor tracked with tiny footprints of floor, and a dark-haired child with eyes of startling blue.
It wasn’t so foreign either, was it, she mused to herself.
In this manner, she marveled, and so the day progressed into afternoon.
###
It wasn’t typical for a family council to be called at midday. Neji had once given a short but extensive exposition to the piddling few Hyuuga genins on why scheduled councils were called when they were, with both the official and hidden reasons, but was in a good enough mood not to mention the root cause: the Hyuuga elders had a hidden streak of theatricality. Candle-lit meetings an hour before daylight allowed the younger nins time for audience before they left for missions at dawn, while the elders often had no need of that much sleep. (There were other colorful comments that alluded to their vanity, but Hanabi phrased those observations best.)
Also atypical was how the full assembly of every available Hyuuga was already gathered in the dark room, the fire pit and the collection of bodies making the freezing cellar a stifling pit, uncomplaining with their white-eyed stoic, but murmuring questions. Even with impromptu meetings, it was the supplicant that first came into the room, standing in the darkness and blinded by the fire, projecting his worst anxieties on the swirling shadows made by the placid, ordered arrival of his kinsmen.
Neji stormed into the gathering with iron purpose, sedately reflecting the quick, unreadable glances of his various relations. Despite the odd timing of the meeting, more people than usual were in attendance, some even forgoing lunches or siestas. He had made no secret of his investigation, only of his results. See, he had learned from Maito Gai and his old cellmates. Neji, too, could squeeze every last bit of melodrama from a given situation, if necessary, if it would give him the reaction he needed. Years of unwilling practice proved he could craft a performance as well as any of the ancient prunes fancying themselves in control of the clan.
“We shall start now,” he announced as soon as he reached his appointed place.
“Hinata-sama has not come,” observed one of the aforementioned dried fruits.
“And she will not. We will begin.”
His uncle, Hiashi nodded his approval.
“I assume, you will be discussing issues pertinent to Hinata-sama,” Hanatarou pointed out delicately. “Then perhaps, she should be present to defend herself, if need be?”
“She shall not need to,” Neji responded in a voice that boded no argument. “There are certain truths you might be less inclined to reveal in her presence, for fear of giving offense.”
“Are you implying the threat to Hinata-sama is among us?”
“I do not presume to possess the wisdom to judge the guilt of any one in this room, but I will get to the bottom of this, even if I need to dredge this pit for evidence.”
He motioned for one of the ceremonial guards to bring for him a sheaf of old documents to the elders.
“This was found among Hinata-sama’s belongings, something she was given when she came of age.”
“Neji-sama,” came the diffident response from one of the younger council members. “This is a pillow book. Er, a book of---”
“Erotic poetry meant to instruct a young woman of her responsibilities as a wife,” Neji finished. “That is exactly what I thought when Hanabi-sama first called my attention to what she called the swirly box.”
He held up a decorative box to the assembly. Even in the low light, most of the family could make out the opaline whorls on the dark, glossy surface.
“I thought it a legacy left behind by Hinata-sama’s esteemed mother, and did not pursue it, until lately. My kinsmen, I have additional information that pointed to the fact that there is a possibility that this is not merely a pillow book, but a contract. A few direct inquiries revealed that this is not in fact the emblem of the Ginta family, from whence Hiashi-sama’s beloved wife was born. The pillow book was hand-carved from volcanic rock only mined on the mountains ringing the northwestern border of the Lightning country.”
The room was silent, save for the crackling of firewood.
“What else was agreed upon when my father’s body was given in exchange for fleeting peace?” Neji continued, implacable and inexorable. “What is the agreement bound upon Hinata-sama's body?"
It was a masssively self-assured woman that spoke to break the clawing tension in the room. "You better be prepared to give proof to support your allegations,” she warned Neji, a bit too insolently. “It is a serious thing to accuse this council of selling the next head of the clan to the enemy. Explain--"
"There will be enough of this," the head of the family interrupted. "It appears my nephew has uncovered truths that link the current events with our worst fears. So be it.
"Eighteen years ago, it was agreed that a male heir of the Sanada family shall be given as consort to my daughter as an expression of good will, unless the Sanada child is called to greater service."
"Hiashi-sama--!!" protested one of the older members.
"What service is this?" the woman, Maram, after a moment’s falter, asked in a more respectful tone.
"A candidate for Raikage. In this case, the Hyuuga child will become consort and be given to the Cloud nins. This agreement was writ in both their bodies."
Neji was shaking. "With all due respect,” he grounded out, not at all conveying any sort of respect whatsoever. “I fail to understand why my father died to keep Hiashi-sama from falling into the hands of Cloud but at the same stroke gave away his heir and the same Hyuuga secrets.”
"It is not that simple, boy," said a wizened old man who rarely spoke. "Gaining a member of the Sanada family on goodwill is far too good a prospect to simply ignore. Hinata-sama was bound to Kasuga's fourth son and the incumbent head of Sanada was a formidable kunoichi that took over the family at a young age without any sign of weakening to her male relatives. The possibility of Hinata-sama having to join him in Cloud was very remote."
"If you believe the chance so remote, why was Hinata-sama being shoved to every possible man of power since she was seventeen?"
"Because she is my child," Hiashi said. There was no other explanation to make and none other in the assembly dared to ask him to elaborate.
It was Hanatarou who spoke after the nervous pause. "The second child, Sanada Meiro's brother died. The council urged Hiashi-sama to seek an appropriate husband for Hinata-sama, to champion her."
"And you found such a person on one Uchiha Sasuke."
"His pedigree and reputation rivals that of the Sanada boy. In this case, his ruthless campaign as a missing nin comes with an infamy and prodigy that very few can deny."
"And if Sasuke doesn't feel like championing anybody?"
"Tomoe Meiro is the head of the Sanada clan and a candidate for the Raikage ascendency race. It is not likely to be necessary."
"Unless this Meiro is immortal, I can't see it as being impossible."
"How is this pertinent to the investigation on Hinata-sama's safety?" asked Maram, the youngest member, obviously shocked by all she has heard.
"If Hinata-sama is a possble asset to a possible candidate for the Raikage ascendency, we cannot dismiss the possibility of Bloodshanks wanting her as leverage or, failing that, out of the way."
Hiashi looked at Neji. "The pillow book also contains instructions on how to unseal the Anahata gate, but both parties must be present. Hanabi has gone abroad to investigate the nature of the Anahata gate seal."
Neji retuned the look, unperturbed. "I will analyze the agreement,” he said.
He departed from the council as brusquely and unceremoniously as he came, trailed by the irate questions, warnings, and prognostications of the council members. He ignored most of them, intent on the answer that was beginning to unveil before him.
###
The sun was hovering over the horizon when Sasuke arrived from his hush-hush mission. Weather in general didn’t bother him, but it was with some relief he welcomed the milder conditions of Konoha. Even he, at the height of the snowstorm he had to pass through, thought that he’d never be warm again.
He was not the type to let his thoughts wander so far that he would forget his bearings---not these days at least. The nature of the curse seal was such that he became vigilant over the years, that he had to make sure he had the least chance of being caught by surprise as possible. That evening, he didn’t find himself waking the routine walk to the assignment center. He detoured and found himself standing at her door.
It shouldn’t have been a problem, but see, he had already knocked.
Her father opened the door for him, but merely trained a long, weighing look on the jounin before nodding in greeting and letting him through. Sasuke made his way up the narrow rickety stairway to her room, while her father melted back into the kitchen to his cooking, instead of inviting him for dinner or asking about how his vegetable garden was faring in the colder than normal weather.
When she didn’t answer his knocks, he merely let himself in. As he did not sustain bodily injury within the next few seconds, he assumed she was simply that much engrossed in her studies and had chosen to ignore him.
Sakura, being the braniac that she was, had perhaps discovered an alternative way to study. Her head was buried in a mound of scrolls and books, her light snoring loud in the silent room. Her window was open to let the chilly gusts of wind in and her pink, likely uncombed, hair shifted once in a while as a result. A thin rivulet of drool meandered down her chin, into her arm, and into the open book she used as a pillow.
Perhaps, it was her coloring that made it seem like she was so easy to crush and damage. Her hair was suggestive of limp blooms, a little more than weeds that were easy to trample, defenseless. It was difficult for him to keep in mind that she wasn’t, because she was once as weak as she now only seemed to be; he once had to protect her constantly. It was strange how little habits that were adopted during ones formative years remain with oneself forever, became near immutable and impossible to break, even after passing through the life-altering flames of hell. It wasn’t because he didn’t respect her. It was merely instinct, muscle memory.
And perhaps, that was it---why did she let him? The usual contempt he associated with her was as strong as ever, but whereas before she irritated him with her mediocrity and normalcy and helplessness, those conditions no longer existed. She seemed to instinctively want to hide behind him and Naruto all the time, out of fear, out of some desire to be their safety net should they step beyond bounds their society set. He wanted to rip away her meek façade of martyrdom----she was the best in what she did, she was at least half as bat-shit crazy as he was, and it had been years since she might have really died without either their help. It was far healthier to protect a town (or the world, for that matter), and he had gotten that message loud and clear. She didn’t need to stand still on his account. She didn’t need to keep babysitting him.
He wasn’t delusional to think it would be easy to just float away from each other. It had been too safe with her, and human nature, she would say, would always yearn for the easier track. Change was difficult. The very idea of being shut out of her life was strangely enraging. And that was Sakura in his head---a few parts contemptible, another few exasperating, another part infuriating, and the rest a chameleon of an inseparable mess of emotions. Knots tangled to such a degree were much safer to cut out, rather than unravel. It would be healthy for both of them; in a calmer mind frame, she would approve of it.
He decided finally to pick her up from the chair and move her to her bed. She was cold like death and for a moment he forgot to breathe. He couldn’t lie; he was wary of her startling and fatally wounding him in self-defense. If he woke her up, she’d probably insist on resuming her studies. If she were in already bed, she might find the effort of getting up troublesome and an effective deterrent. Naturally, he expected her to wake during the course of the transfer; he was just banking on her not waking up immediately from sheer exhaustion.
By the time he pulled the blankets about her, she had opened her eyes to stare at him curiously---she had done as much for him before. Why must she think it so strange? There was still quite a bit of sleep on her face, like she wasn’t really making an effort to distinguish between dream and reality.
“Yo,” she said.
He nodded in response.
“Long time no see, Sasuke-kun.”
“Aa.”
And they were quiet again as she drifted in and out of her doze.
“I like the fur lining on your hoodie,” she said languorously. “Didn’t think you the type, but it does fit your pale beauty.”
He would have rolled his eyes. It was amazing how forward the little twit had become over the years. She wouldn’t have had the guts to call him beautiful to his face when they were twelve years old.
“But back to business. How can I help you?”
Why must it always be her helping him?
“I’m going to get married,” he said.
“I heard that might be,” she replied after a while. He was beginning to think she had fallen back to sleep again. “So why are you telling me?”
“…?”
“We’ve avoided each other for a quite some time, you know. Just surprised you came all the way here, after such a long trip, just to tell me that. You must have had less sleep than me.”
“It’s the sort of thing friends do.”
She blinked several times, as if to moisten her eyes, and then she lifted her head to look at him. “Thank you,” she said simply. “Congratulations.”
He nodded and she slid back to her pillows. “Hinata-chan has the aptitude.” Her words were slurring once again. “I can teach her the basics for now, but then eventually, she’ll be able to tackle a level two.”
“And beyond that?”
“…Let’s just say, I am at the cusp of a… breakthrough,” she murmured with great effort. “Once we hammer down... protocol. No need for me… Come running. Odd hours. Niiigh…”
Sakura started to snore at that point.
The sun was low in the sky when Sasuke left through her window.
###
That information existed in neatly collated and deciphered batches was a convenience not often found in real life. Thus, missions involving the confiscation---even better, the clandestine replication----of such treasure troves were considered among the riskiest and most expensive in the business. In fact, if any collection did exist, it wasn’t generally advertised by the select few who owned and controlled it.
That was the irony of Neji’s mission that started with merely escorting his cousin about the village. Even within the village walls, it was a given to treat the information in their archives as suspect and with a grain of salt. There could always be something omitted or unaccounted for. A true investigation did not rely solely on documents but on arduous field work and keen reconnaissance. They were by no means invaluable, of course, but they were merely guiding points.
Missions relied on both the clients’ pay and the village’s collective resources. The manpower relegated to missions that served individuals and certain clans, as opposed to the interests of the entirety, were sometimes classified as less important. This tendency has gotten arguably better over the decades-the village took care of its own fiercely and drew strength in this tight-knit solidarity, but as with anything there were chinks.
The Hyuuga clan was granted two Class A missions that quarter, in addition to having two jounins pulled out of the active rosters indefinitely (and as it turned out, a jounin-functioning chuunin, as well). Considering how those two Class A missions occupied another jounin for weeks at a time, the Hyuuga were definitely pulling all strings to have their problem taken care of as smoothly and quietly as possible, while retaining the stoic dignity of their name.
Neji considered how much the village government knew about the problem. He was now given free rein to peruse the information that Tenten had needed to smuggle to him weeks ago. He hadn’t, didn’t expect to find anything new, but the cold storage pods that snaked underneath bits of the village bedrock afforded him the privacy to, if not fall to pieces, shudder within his skin, shriek within his skull.
For the first time in ten years, he doubted the truths behind his father’s death.
It was only natural that even a person like Neji, who for that brief first years of his life was so loved, would refuse to believe that a parent had chosen an ultimately selfish desire over his own child. For years, he nursed his hatred of the main family on the belief that his father was forced to die for his brother, as he could not believe his father would willingly just go when he had a son to raise. And after he was told the truth, even now, in the secret corners of his mind, he had could not accept the fact that his father took the lone avenue for escape and left him behind, left him in that same elegantly-wrought cage all of them sought to escape.
That his uncle had humbled himself years ago to explain the intentions of his father when he took Hiashi’s place in the exchange, one cadaver for another, spoke of Hiashi’s belief on the matter. Hizashi’s exodus may have led to the path of the dead, but it was a path dearly chosen and bought. That sacrifice rippled through his family in ways that extended beyond Neji himself. The brotherly bond between the twins, entwined as it was with a hatred borne by their fates, was something Neji would never be privy to. The Spartan treatment of the Hyuuga heiress was no doubt testament to this. Beyond the unfathomable mask he wore as the Hyuuga head, what resentments did Hiashi bore his brother? His daughter? His self?
Many a man had lamented Neji’s being borne of the wrong father. It seemed some of these men had seen a way around this problem.
“You asked what will happen should Uchiha Sasuke refuse to champion our heiress,” Hanatarou had said in his annoying, superior way. He had accosted Neji on a seemingly empty hallway in the mansion. “There is any number of individuals, who fit the bill of prodigious ninja in our village---surely, the succession of tragedies, albeit deeply unfortunate, have steered to surface such distinctive individuals. However, less than a handful will truly be able to place our heiress’s best interests, and therefore the clan’s, to heart. “
The man, for once, did not balk under Neji’s steely expression. His unflinching look hinted on an honest, quiet hope that made the jounin remain to listen to the rest of what he had to say.
“There is precedence. The general public may frown upon such an affront to their sensibilities, but they will accept it as part of our clan’s eccentricities.
“Therefore, Hyuuga Neji, in the name of our family do I ask you to weigh your options well and see beyond what is merely tangible, as your father had before you. Perhaps, you will find he did not abandon you without guidance, after all.”
To have such a tantalizing possibility dangled in front of his face… there was no space for Neji to even know what he was thinking. The bitterness that had subsided for years, congealed, multiplied, took form and fisted in his heart. It overrode the logical order of his thoughts and distracted him from focusing on the problem at hand. First, the possibility of lifting the bird seal curse on forehead, and now this?
It was very easy, rationally-speaking, to choose what step to take next. Challenging Sasuke to take his place as Hinata-sama’s suitor (and later her betrothed and eventual husband), to pre-empt the slight chance of her being claimed by Sanada Kasuga’s fourth son, would not solve anything. There was still the question of Hinata-sama’s safety: was Bloodshanks a fluke, a lone man who took a chance? Or was he a tiny cog in larger machinations? That question remained, and the answers suggested by the information he had collated was not comforting.
(And yet another question, one he was man enough to confess he was not prepared to answer yet: given the possibilities, what did he want? Must one enter a room just because its door was unlocked? Or a better analogy, would a song bird fly away, if its golden cage was left open? Did it recognize those bars served as protection as well and would that deter him from embracing the clear skies and seeking passage to the sun itself just because nothing stood to stop him from trying?)
The lone tendril of doubt that was seeded in his heart steadily vined its way up Neji’s brain, with the insidiousness and tenacious permanence of a weed.
It was impossible to ignore.
###
Some people might accuse Uzumaki Naruto of being superstitious, but more would claim that to be impossible---he didn’t have enough forethought to base decisions on a thought-out idea, irrational or not. Still, there had to be something lucky about the way he kept running a finger across his lower lip when he wasn’t paying attention. Once or twice, he even caught his tongue doing the odd, searching touch, as if expecting the remnants of a sweet there, like dried bean paste from that rice cake the street sweeper shared with him this morning, before he had to rush off with the Garlic Guy.
Well. He didn’t expect to feel that much better.
Up until the time he spent creeping through the holy halls of Hyuuga (he couldn’t help it; nobody was nice enough to lead the way) and finally finding the kitchenette after getting lost twice, he didn’t now what he was going to say. Then, she was there, and it was far too much trouble to get lost again. He decided talk to her, trust whatever came out of his mouth, and resolved not to leave till everything was fine again.
It all came out in the open, how he felt suddenly unneeded by two of his closest friends, how he felt lost, thinking his place in their lives had been replaced.
Hinata-chan felt so much like Hinata-chan today, that Naruto knew nothing was going to change, after all. They’d still talk for hours about random things, hang out over bowls of ramen and make fun of her funny family customs, maybe have missions together once her assassin problem got taken care of. It was all so normal that he couldn’t remember why had made such a big deal about it. Why, being able to make fun of Sasuke with Hinata was such a load off his shoulders that it felt like…. Well, it’s like when you eat something that disagrees with your belly and you have rip-roaring stomachache? And you’re on the move and there’s no bathroom, and it’ll be a bad idea to just find a bush and let it rip, ‘cause getting killed while taking a dump is just wrong, and after holding it in for forever, you finally get to a safe place and you’re beside yourself finding a toilet and you pull down your pants and bear down even before the door slams shut?
Holey moley, but it was that feeling.
Hinata-chan couldn’t join him for an early supper at the Ichiraku’s that evening.
“Not tonight, sonny,” the sentry had told him with an odd catch in his gruff voice. Funny, Naruto had always thought the guy detested him and now he was getting touchy-feely? “Hinata-sama has a set engagement for tonight.”
What did piss him off was how the doorkeeper knew what Hinata-chan herself didn’t know, but he was distracted from his snit by a light tap on his shoulder.
“Why don’t you give him my share?” Hinata had said with a wry smile. “Hino-san, why don’t you split it, set my share aside, and I’ll come by for it later? Sometimes, I don’t get enough to eat in these functions.”
“A midnight snack!” Naruto exclaimed, smashing his fist on a palm. “That’s awesome, but I have a mission early tomorrow and Baba said she’ll rip me a new one if I oversleep again.” The blond ninja frowned. “She said I’m more of an embarrassment than that grabby, lightning kid… what grabby lightning kid?”
That bit was disappointing, but the general tenor of his mood upon leaving the Hyuuga sector was high, euphoric. So euphoric, in fact, that he felt like could talk to Sasuke now and it won’t degenerate into a contest of killing each other more creatively. He decided that he was far less likely to try if both of them had steaming bowls of ramen before them. That sealed the deal as far as Naruto was concerned; he ordered several varieties of flavor to go. Sasuke ate like a dieting girl sometimes, so he’d probably only pick a flavor or two randomly. Naruto would get to keep the rest.
The Uchiha sector was deserted---it usually was---but Sasuke was supposed to have returned that day. Naruto had even checked first with the village gate-watchers, who told him that Sasuke had arrived home that morning. He figured Sasuke would have gone for debriefing first. Some missions were so involved that people have been locked up for days, working with specialists to analyze data or events, but that couldn’t be the case this time, could it? The blond ninja must have looked so down in the dumps that an ANBU appeared to speak to him.
“Your boyfriend came home four hours ago, puttered around his mausoleum for a bit, and went to Missions Assignment.”
Naruto ought to have beaten the bastard black and blue for that jibe, but his hands were full. He considered that thank you enough for the kindly informant and so walked around aimlessly for a bit.
He sat down in somebody’s garden set (not in the ghost-infested Uchihaville, of course) and ate a bowl and a half of ramen before figuring he should go to Sakura’s place.
“Hey, Mister Haru… no…” Naruto’s cheerful greeting sputtered to a stop when the Haruno’s door opened to the homicidal face of Sakura’s father. “Uh, I, erm, just wanted to see if Sakura-chan wanted some ramen. If it’s a bad time I’ll just… leave.”
Sakura’s father seemed to work his jaw for a good minute before answering.
“Good,” he said quietly. “She might eat that.”
That was Naruto’s first warning that something was wrong. His mood was still happy, but now tempered with caution. Sakura, after all, was not unknown to deal with negative emotion by pummeling some unlucky idiot who aggravated her further.
He didn’t want to be that idiot.
The second bad sign was when he found himself unharmed minutes after entering her dark room without knocking. (The door was ajar and he didn’t exactly have an available fist to use.)
He figured out where she was in the darkness by the sound of successive hiccups.
“Oh, there you are, Sa-”
“Don’t take another step!” she cried out. “Some asshat left my rolling chair in the middle of the doorway where anybody can just trip and break their neck. S-sorry it’s dark. I was trying to study and I kicked my lamp to bits now, so I can’t study anymore. And if you spill anything in my room, I’ll make you lick it! With bleach!”
Her genin cellmate froze instantly, well-learned from previous threats left unheeded. He zeroed in on the sound of his friend’s voice, however, and whatever body injury he’d receive for his impertinence, he couldn’t let this pass.
“You’re crying,” he snarled, instantly furious. So that’s where his missing friend had been, here, making their friend cry. Only one person could reduce Sakura to tears she could not stop when she needed to. Sakura had not cried in front of them for years now. She wouldn’t have been caught dead.
“I-I know!” she said miserably. “It’s the stupidest thing, and I can’t stop!”
“Sakura-chan-”
“Don’t say it! Don’t. Just don’t.” Naruto’s eyes had adjusted enough that she could make out her shape, sitting on the floor near her desk, nestled by what look liked piles of books and documents. “I know. I know, I know, I know! I’m a hypocrite. I’m so full of myself that I thought it was impossible. I thought we were enough for him, Naruto. I thought he wouldn’t---he’d never---give in to what they want, that he’d just pretend to go on and pull out of it and entrap them in their own schemes!
“I focused on getting him out of the trouble he’d land in, when he rebelled. But he didn’t, and now, now… I don’t know! I didn’t think he could decide like this so quickly. I’m just, I’m just---I’m a horrible person, Naruto. There are---there are no words---”
Naruto stared at her through the stack of ramen, taken aback that she seemed to be intent on pulling out her hair, mop-like in the semi-darkness. “I think I know what you feel, Sakura-chan,” he said uncertainly. “But Sasuke and Hinata-chan… even if they marry, it’s not like… they’ll still be our friends, you know?”
“I don’t want to be friends with Sasuke,” the mednin snapped. “And don’t give me that rigmarole about being the stupidest girl in the world! I am so sick and tired of hearing Ino, tell me that I have to be pathologic to even like that ba-ass-motherfu---him. I was perfectly fine! It was perfectly fine the way it was. I mean, he was just there. He was always supposed to be there, and we could be friends. I mean, we were, but what rights do I have now, Naruto?
“Tell me, what rights do I have? To call myself his friend when I didn’t think even for a moment that if he doesn’t get over his aversion to human contact, his line would end with him? What sort of friend am I, Naruto? I, who can wish, had wished, a friend to just stay static and unwell and just--just fucked up the way he is, just because I want to keep him leashed to me?”
Naruto let her self-directed diatribe hang in the air for a moment. It was so ironic how he thought her a goddess at that moment, when she had always been the sort who bloomed oh-so-beautifully when she was happy and everything was well in her minutely-ordered world. But the fury of emotions made her usually pale cheeks vivid, and the pink of her hair seemed silver-blue under the sliver of streetlight that flickered on from outside the shuttered window her desk faced. She looked at him with all her despair, the tears in her eyes pearled white by the rising moon. The vision struck him like a blow to his chest.
“Do you love him?” he finally asked.
She hissed for a breath in between sobs, then spoke angrily. “Why?” she demanded. “Don’t you?”
“I’m asking you.”
She stopped, wiping her face with a knuckle, and stared down on her cluttered floor.
“I’m asking you,” he repeated quietly when she still didn’t answer.
“… I do love him.”
“Then,” he said with an explosive sigh, as if he were the one in pain. “You’ll do something about this.”
She looked up at the shaking challenge in his voice. “Yes,” she said, steel returning to hers. “I’ll be fine tomorrow.”
He disagreed and the set of his jaw gave it away.
“It’s a good thing,” she insisted. “I need to get this all out. I’d be fine tomorrow. But for now…” Her voice wavered again, teetered on the verge of a wail. “But for tonight, it should be fine, right? If I think of this as something at the scale of the end of the world, you won’t think less of me? It’s okay, right, Naruto?”
Naruto was speechless, unable to interrupt the mixed-up, contradictory monologue, but unable to take more of it without leaving there and then and murdering somebody. All he could be was be his usual self, and see how she would be tomorrow. Because for all his anger, for all his hurt, what he learned the past few weeks stayed true. He couldn’t go around demanding people to change their feelings to suit his understanding of the world. So even if he had been right about Sakura, if Hinata was settled with Sasuke, and Sasuke was settled with Hinata, what right had he to decide Sasuke belonged to Sakura?
(Or that Sakura belonged to him when she clearly wanted to belong to someone else?)
He pushed all that away for the moment and stepped carefully around the scattered scrolls on the floor. He asked her to make room for his bowls, because he couldn’t feel his arms anymore. Startled, she did as she was told, and allowed him to badger her into eating a bowl of ramen, assuring her that he’d stay at least half an hour after, long enough for the food she ingested to go down all the way to her stomach, as she always scolded him about. The rest of the night would be hers to study or sleep, whatever she wanted.
Sakura in turn waited till her friend was too far to hear her, before she resumed her crying, coiled up under the covers, now in her bed.
When Naruto left the Haruno home, he looked up and saw the dardnest thing.
There was no moon.
01112011 0037
Egads. The last bit was finally encoded/re-written. Thank you “Like A Star” radio station in Pandora for setting up the mood so well.
It’s not that bad. (Yes, I keep telling myself that.) I think that’s really the only way for Hinata to move away from her current trajectory. I think it’s the hero worship thing she has with Naruto that she’d need to get over with eventually.
@__@ And now, to work on tonight's 31_days piece.