Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“You’re very very beautiful you know,” the man said as he closed the checkbook over his credit card and handed it to the waiter, all without looking at him. Instead, he was making intense eye contact with Hyuga Hinata, his purple gaze an all-encompassing river of adoration––or lust––she couldn’t be sure.

Between them, two candles flickered romantically. Mulled wine was served in hearty ceramic mugs beside their expansive feast of roasted duck, pomme potatoes, and parmesan-encrusted kale. The feast was scarcely eaten, only picked at; evidence of a lively conversation. 

“I’d love to take you out again,” he said and grabbed her hand across the table. He rubbed circles into her palm with his thumb. 

“R-r-really?” Hinata asked, blushing despite herself. “S-suigetsu, I’d be h-honored.”

It was mostly true; she would be honored. She liked Suigetsu. She liked that he opened car doors for her and pulled out her chair before she sat down. She liked that he knew what wines paired with what meats. She liked his ensemble of dark suits and golden watches––a different one for each date. They’d been on four, by the way, and he always asked if she would like to see him again after each one. 

She liked getting dressed for him. Her sister helped her pick out which dresses usually, and they were all sexy in a way that suited her. Long-sleeved in light colors, heavy fabric showing only slivers, suggestions, of her skin, modest numbers that still showed her curves, and square heels that made it easy for her to walk in. If she stumbled, Suigetsu was always an arm to grab. He was a comfortable presence whose time she enjoyed more than other men she’d dated. 

It had been a while since she’d actually dated someone she liked. It had been over a year since her last relationship–– a tumultuous one full of varying shades of pain and drama, half of which she blamed her teenaged brain. Though a couple of years had passed since she was a teenager, it was December and her 22nd birthday was quickly approaching. She felt far older just by knowing what month it was. 

She didn’t like thinking about those days and often felt a darkness close over her with the thought of the color of her ex’s eyes. Sometimes she would glance upon this or that and would find herself thinking, that’s just like his eyes , and then she would get angry at herself for thinking it. It was just that thinking about his eyes pulled other thoughts from the very corners of her brain that she thought she had packed away neatly. Never far from the eyes was the touch that followed a look––one that made her cheeks tinge pink. 

They tinged pink here. Suigetsu’s lips pulled into a smile, misinterpreting her reaction, but Hinata didn’t mind the assumption. He reached across the table to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear, his hand just hovering there just long enough for it to be considered inappropriate, but short enough that she couldn’t say anything about it. Hinata let her head fall into his palm just as he was taking it away. The gesture was sweet, and she could tell he liked it. 

“Are you free Saturday?” 

“Hm, S-Saturday? No, I’ve got m-meetings,” Hinata said dreamily, her gaze full of Suigetsu’s perfect teeth and dimpled chin.

“Meetings on a Saturday? What work do you have, woman?” His hand was traveling. In an instant, she felt his palm on her thigh.

“F-family affairs,” Hinata said languidly, feeling her body turn to liquid at his touch. Without meaning to, her body jerked forward. It had been a while since she felt this way.  “S-surely you understand?”

“Of course,” he said. “How about Sunday? We could go to the aquarium.”

“T-that sounds l-lovely,” Hinata said as he drew closer. “I w-would enjoy that.”

Nothing happened after that. Suigetsu dropped Hinata off at home for the very first time, jumping out of the car to open the door for her. 

When she got out, they both stopped to stare at the Hyuga Estate, though Hinata herself wouldn’t necessarily call it that. It was an above-average-sized home with beautiful facades, a garden, and a pool, but that was it, really. She’d seen bigger. That didn’t stop Suigetsu from gaping open-mouth as he drove past the shining gates, up the circle driveway, and around the bend of a bubbling porcelain fountain. 

Hinata watched a figure flicker in the third-floor windows and sighed. Suigetsu probably didn’t notice, but a camera in the doorway had turned in their direction with an almost indiscernible swivel of its small head. Hinata turned her head to look at her date, but instead, he was looking at the Christmas lights that had started to accumulate on the bare-leaf trees in their front yard.

“S-Suigetsu?” She called his attention and he snapped his head back to look at her as if startled. 

"Sorry,” he shook his head to clear his thoughts. “If you don’t mind me asking...what do your parents do again?”

“My m-mother ran her father’s b-business until she died,” Hinata thought of her mother’s slender, manicured hands as she stacked cash as wide as honeydew melon and stuck it into a silver currency counter. The machine whirled quietly, and every once in a while, Aoki would stick her hand in, take out a stack of crisp yen, and slap them against the granite kitchen countertops. 

“Oh,” Suigetsu looked startled and a little embarrassed. It was cold out so the two of them stood close together, huddling for warmth. He put his arm around her thick fur coat and when their eyes met, he asked if she was okay. She nodded. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Hina.”

Hm. Hina . That was new. She leaned into his touch, feeling the curve of his arm against her back. It was warm there. “It’s o-o-okay,” Hinata said. “Y-years ago. A-anyway, my father is almost r-retired. He’s a s-surgeon.”

Once, on vacation, she’d opened the front door of their island vacation home to see a dead dog lying on their porch. She thought it was some type of household hound, but when her cousin Neji reached the door after her gasp, he shook his head and said it was just a coyote. Her father had been standing behind them when she opened the door, saying nothing. He silently picked up the animal and brought it into his office.

“Children, come.” He’d said. Neji and Hinata were a pair of silent footsteps after him. Hanabi had been too young at the time. Hinata stood at his right, and Neji stood at his left as he took a medical-grade scalpel to tear open the dog’s stomach. It was a clean, bloodless, cut that snipped away stitches someone had placed there earlier. “Who wants to do the honors?”

“Me!” Neji said eagerly. 

“Y-you did it l-last time,” Hinata said quietly, unenthusiastically, but with a tinge of curious yearning in her voice. 

Hiashi handed his daughter the glove and she put it on over her small hand. Then, she reached into the animal––cold by now––and pulled out a bloody, heavily wrapped pound of cocaine. Then she pulled out the second. Then, astonishingly, a third. She proudly stacked them on top of her father’s desk. 

“Ah,” Suigetsu said as if he were trying not to say that explains it! Hinata watched the figure in the window begin to pace. She stifled the urge to roll her eyes, instead choosing to turn her body into Suigetsu’s warmth. She borrowed her head under his chin, taking in his deep scent of hospital-grade cleaning supplies and pine-sol. This had been her first warning. She really wished he had smelled like anything else. Even in this second, she couldn’t pretend. She hated him for it. 

He wrapped his arms around her tighter, giving her a big squeeze. When he lowered his mouth to hers, she returned the kiss naturally. It was pleasant. He was a good kisser. He was good at a lot of the things he’d done with her. 

When they parted, the curtains on the third for twitched with finality. Hinata rolled her eyes this time and bid the man goodbye. 

-:-

The kitchen was warm when she entered it. Neji, Tenten, Kiba, and Ino were there talking loudly about their weekend plans that involved skiing off of a mountain somewhere north. They were set to leave Saturday after the Affair and were all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed about it. It wasn’t like they didn’t travel often––they did. They were just eager for the competition of it all. They’d invited Hinata of course, but she’d declined, knowing that she’d probably be in a depressed sort of mood. She was right. 

“Hey baby, how was it?” Ino called. She was sitting on the counter licking chocolate off a spoon. Beside her, Tenten was icing a three-tier chocolate cake and Kiba was going in after her, dutifully adding rose petals per her instruction. Ino and Kiba were Hinata’s best friends in the world, so they were sure to greet her after any date, especially one like this. Tenten, too, was one of Hinata’s closest friends, but she was also Neji’s girlfriend, which made her more like family. 

Hinata made a gesture that they all intuitively knew to mean to “say no more.” She pulled up four fingers, and then wiped the back of her hand across her mouth as if to wipe away invisible crumbs. Typically, this gesture meant “ be careful, someone is listening.” Everyone stood still for a millisecond before they continued with their movements like nothing had happened. 

“I-it was g-great,” Hinata said, smiling. She dropped her coat onto the floor in the middle of the kitchen. “I’m r-really starting to like Suigetsu...” She grabbed a frying pan off the stove that had leftover raspberry compote in it. She guessed it had gone into the cake. 

“ Ah!” She cried as if she were pretending to stumble over something and fall. Then without even a moment to blink, she raised the frying pan over her head and slammed it down upon the fur coat. It made a resounding TWANK noise against the tiled floor. 

“Okay,” she breathed.  “We c-can talk now.” Everyone was trying to act like they weren’t sending her pitying looks. She ignored them as she bent to peer into her coat’s hair. Its mink fur was now stained with compost, and her slender fingers became sticky as she combed through it. “It s-should be right....” she continued to pick at the jacket. “here!”

Triumphant, Hinata pulled out the tiniest piece of technology. It was a black ball, shaped like a bug, and hidden amongst the thick fur of her coat. It had happened after Suigetsu asked about her mom. She was sure he already knew that she was dead, but was just looking for one last chance to touch her. She scoffed softly to herself. Asshole.

Kiba whisted. “Damn, that’s a small wire,” he grabbed it from her palm to examine it, its tiny wires exposed after Hinata had brutally murdered it, along with her favorite coat, with Tenten’s used frying pan. “He put this on you just now?”

“Y-yeah,” Hinata jumped onto the counter into a sit. Neji rubbed her shoulder comfortingly and looked proud. “H-he asked about m-my parents' work, t-then l-looked all sad when I t-told him my mother d-died.”

“That’s very audacious,” Tenten snorted as she continued frosting. “Good riddance.”

“I wish he could die under mysterious circumstances,” Ino said. 

“It’s t-too soon,” Hinata looked at her fingernails. They had been painted cream but were now stained red from the compote that remained on the floor. “It w-would be suspicious. He was an a-awful spy, anyway. The man practically s-smelled like a sanitation unit.”

“It still sucks,” Tenten said empathetically. “I mean...it seemed like you really liked him.”

Hinata shrugged, not meeting any of their eyes. “I did like him.” She took the bug from Kiba and tossed it into the trash. “I like them all, at least a little.”

They all collapsed into silence. Ino took out her phone, Kiba continued placing petals on the cake, Tenten took yet another baked good out of the oven, and Neji began mixing a bowl of dry ingredients into a bowl of wet ingredients. They were all preparing desserts for the Affair on Saturday.

After a few minutes of pointed sulking, Hinata finally jumped down from the counter. She pulled down the hem of her wool sweater dress and was getting ready to pull an apron over it when soft, even-paced steps padded toward them. Every single one of them stopped what they were doing. 

Hanabi walked in first. She was a young, sullen face of almost 16 years, with tear-stained cheeks, holding on to the arm of an elder, who waddled in on swollen feet. His long black robe fell to the ground around him, and he clutched onto Hanabi like she were the only thing tethering her to the ground. 

Immediately, everyone dropped into a bow, Tenten, Kiba, and Ino going as far as to touch their knees to the ground. Hinata and Neji bent deeply at the waist, withdrawing their eyes sharply, “Grandfather Miroku,” they addressed in unison, Hinata without even stuttering.

“Neji, my boy,” Miroku said gently. Slowly, Neji lifted to face him. The old man put a scarred, wrinkled hand on his face. “My son...your father...has died in prison.”

-:-

It was always the same dream. Him running through a wide-open field with his chubby nine-year-old legs chasing a golden soccer ball. It was golden because of the time of day. It was golden hour. He had hated that shit ever since.

The dream started off fine. He ran after the ball. There was almost nothing in his way. He could see the goalpost as it once stood on the Uchiha grounds, a pearly white structure that he and his brother practiced with mercilessly from day in to day out. Only this time, he was utterly and completely alone. 

He ran drills. Up and down and up the court. He passed the ball between his legs. He avoided the goal post entirely until something, always something urgent, something he could not deny, called him forward toward it. His body moved as if gravitationally pulled. He didn’t want to. He didn’t want to because he knew what would come after. But despite his wants, he still moved his foot back, and then sent it pushing forward, all of his energy into the tip of his sneaker, sending the golden soccer ball spiraling into the goal. When it struck: POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP!

Gunfire erupted all around the Uchiha compound, relentless and loud. POP! POP! POOOOP POOOP PEEEEP PEEP PEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP! Sasuke woke with a violent jerk and sweat on his brow. He swung his arm in a wide arch, capturing his alarm clock in his grip, and catapulted it into the ground. 

Silence. 

The dream was a memory and he wanted the memory in the ground. He got out of bed with heavy shoulders, feeling like he had been struck by one of the bullets, though that hadn’t even happened in real life. He stepped over the damaged technology and got ready for his day. He had to buy a new alarm clock. Again.

The drive to the office was uneventful. Sasuke dressed in dark business-casual wear that was simultaneously nondescript and stylish, dressing in a dark green turtleneck under his gray peacoat to combat the cold. On the expressway, snow flurries brushed the glass of his window and melted upon contact. Traffic was slow. He glared at the weather and the line of cars in front of him.

Downtown, Sasuke tossed his keys to the valet. Normally, he’d park it himself for safety reasons, but he was feeling lazy today after that nightmare. When he looked in the mirror after brushing his teeth, his eyes were ringed red. It was pathetic. He thought he was pitiful. He thought that he should have other feelings instead of the fear that crawled at his insides like the legs of a thousand tiny spiders. Itchy, itching, breaking through is his skin. He wanted to wake up furious, but even in vengeance, there was great fear. 

Not that he would ever admit that to anyone, not even himself. 

The Uchiha walked through the glass doors of an office building that looked like all of the other office buildings in the area. It was a normal, modern, glass monstrosity of about 50 stories. Security officers greeted him from behind their tall desks, and at the gated entry, as was routine, he briefly flashed his laminated litigation lawyer badge at the scanner. It beeped and the transparent gates opened. He always thought those things were funny. Four-foot-high plastic doors would never be enough to stop his entry, but he entertained it because he had to. 

He got into the last elevator on the right and hit the floor 12  button with the pad of his thumb. These elevators had flatscreen TVs attached to the walls, God knows why, and the busy screen drew his attention. On it, a mugshot of none other than Hyuga Hizashi appeared. The sight of it sent a wild feeling through Sasuke’s body.

Publicly, he was a well-known businessman turned convict; privately, however, Sasuke knew more about his activities than the average citizen. The screen showed a grainy video of the Hyuga walking away from the courtroom in a bright orange jumpsuit. Below it, the caption read: 

BREAKING: FORMER BUSINESS TYCOON, HYUGA HIZASHI, MURDERED IN FEDERAL PRISON. STORY STILL UNFOLDING AS INVESTIGATORS EXPLORE POTENTIAL MOB-RELATED INFLUENCES.

“Hm,” Sasuke hummed. The elevator dinged on the 12th floor. He stepped off, took out a tiny pocket knife, and gently stabbed the tip of his finger so that a red dot of blood sputtered out. He wiped it across a small square of tile that was exactly 37 tiles off the ground, and 6 tiles left of the elevator, before stepping back into it. 

A computerized voice rang out once the doors closed: “Hello, CROW. Please enter the password.”

Sasuke typed in the 40-digit password with robot-like fluidity using the elevator buttons as guides, as the elevator began to sink back down into the building. He grabbed his mask from his briefcase and slid it over his face once the metal box dipped below the ground floor, and the lights shut off. He looked up at the screen before he did so, and Hizashi’s frozen face stared down at him hauntingly. 

His mask was shaped like a crow’s head and its beak jutted out from his nose. The elevator doors slid open, but before he stepped off he carefully evaluated the positionality of the tripwire––which changed every hour––and casually jumped over it. After that, he took off his jacket, finally able to be comfortable. 

He typed in one last password, did one final hand scan, and walked into ANBU Headquarters to report for duty. 

“Yooo, finally!” A large body suddenly interrupted his vision. Sasuke crouched to duck the fist that eagerly came towards his face, and grabbed Fox’s shoulder, pushing him away. His shocking trickster mask set him apart, but Sasuke would know Naruto anywhere, mask or not. Fox didn’t stumble at all from the push––he never really missed a beat––and slung an arm around Crow’s shoulder instead. “You hear the news?”

“What news?”

Fox pivoted their bodies so that they were both looking at one of several screens across the room. On the one bottom left, the news story about the Hyuga was on display. The updated headline said: KNOWN AKATSUKI MEMBER HIDAN ALLEGEDLY USED SHANK TO STAB HYUGA IN NECK

Akatsuki. Sasuke felt his heart stutter at the name. He felt sudden, intense, intrigue as he fixed his eyes on the screen. Hidan’s mugshot flashed on the television next and he struck a sinister smile at the camera. Beside him, Fox was muttering “Fuck those guys.” 

Next to the TV displaying Hidan’s face, someone had pulled up Hidan’s file in jest. Mouse was jeering at his arrest report, listing things like, “Possession of six pounds of heroin,” “aggravated assault and battery,” “vehicular manslaughter,” and again, “possession with intent to sell.”

“It’s perplexing,” Sasuke muttered quietly. Fox ignored him, already knowing of his borderline obsession with the gang. The obsession had started the first time he watched one of them drive away from him in one of their dramatic long coats. Asshole put six bullets through Sasuke’s window. He was lucky to be alive. “How is Hidan locked up but they still can’t find these guys' headquarters?”

“Well, we can’t find them either,” Pig walked up to them then, her pink locks pulled away from her mask and into an elaborate bun. She had a heavily stuffed folder in her arms. 

Sasuke was of the opinion that ANBU had never really tried, never having a reason to, but he kept this to himself. They were a network of spies and assassins, taking on missions when they were paid to do so, and occasionally taking on some government work...when the price was right. Few people even knew they existed, few people ever needed to. 

To ANBU operatives, the Akatsuki’s activities were just another form of daily entertainment. Sure, they kept watch and gathered intel when they could, but they had no personal beef with the mafia, and it wasn’t protocol to start wars where they weren’t needed. In any case, the Akatsuki had piqued the interest of a few ANBU who wanted to know how they were operating on such a large level, but not making any noises around the city. Besides Hidan’s obviously loud personality, there was rarely a peep from the Akatsuki. No one really knew who was a part of it. No one knew what their goal was.

Sasuke was one of the interested ANBU, though he tried to keep his curiosity to himself. The thing was...when he’d almost gotten shot two years ago, on a mission he had been informed had nothing to do with the Akatsuki in the first place, he swore he saw a tattoo of an Uchiha fan on the leg of one of the running assailants. 

The curiosity itched and dug into his skin like an open wound, and Sasuke scratched until it festered into obsession. Itachi hadn’t been seen or heard from since the massacre, but a week before the tragedy, he’d come home with a new tattoo. At almost nine, Sasuke watched in awe as Itachi told him not to tell their parents. “It’s nice, right?” Itachi said, lifting his pant leg to reveal his calf, still shiny with ink. “It’s like what they would do back in the day.” He was a teenager of 15 years, bright, talented, and eager to make a difference. “Branding. Loyalty. Uchiha forever.”

“Uchiha forever,” Sasuke responded seriously, knocking his smaller fist against his brother’s. 

“You listening, Crow?” Pig elbowed him and cocked her head to the side inquisitive. “Are you okay? You’re not usually so...”

“Out of it,” Fox supplied, putting one finger in the air. “You’re out of it, dude. You wanna get some ramen after this, on me?”

“You don’t have any money,” Pig crossed her arms over her chest. “Remember? You lost it all in a bet you had no business making with fucking Owl of all people. Owl! Seriously, his name is fucking owl.”

“What?” Fox growled, “Are owls supposed to be smart or somethin’?”

Sasuke rubbed his head, “Yeah, stupid,” he muttered. “They’re wise.”

“Whatever,” Fox said. “Anyway, Crow, you’re not going to believe this mission we got, you wanna do the honors, Pig?”

Pig shook her head, not interested in showing as much excitement as Fox was. “I don’t care. Ox doesn’t want me on the field for this one so I’m lousy fucking backup.” She said that to say: “you tell him.”

Fox pulled up his tablet; on its screen was an image of a picturesque home and a large plot of land. Sasuke recognized it immediately.

 “We’re going to the palace itself,” Fox was grinning beneath his mask. 

It was the Hyuga estate. Excellent , Sasuke thought. Excellent. 

Chapter Text

Hinata gripped Hanabi’s arm tightly as they walked slowly down the middle of the street, protected on both sides by darkly clad Family members. Likely, over 200 of them had arrived or traveled down to Konoha for this occasion. 

Cars honked in disdain, but the party of 200+ ignored them. It was a silent sort of movement to the chapel. The streets were congested and they were holding up traffic for blocks and blocks and blocks. But this was their culture, how else to mourn if not loudly among the family who you love and trusted?

A few centimeters back, a shiny black hearse cruised just behind the main family, its sides flanked by syndicate members clothed in dark apparel with grim looks on their faces. Many wore sunglasses. As the car drove forward, they put their hands on every part of the vehicle they could reach, walking slowly as the car passed long stretches of street until it reached the 7th block of the journey––a pilgrimage––to Hyuga Hizashi’s final resting place. 

In front of them all as Hizashi’s sole offspring, Neji walked alone. Unmarried to Tenten, not even she was allowed to walk with him; instead, she fell back beside their other close friends, among the Family members who held their hands on their vehicle, unwilling to let go until his body was laid to rest. The fear was that if the vehicle of transference was uncovered, unprotected by those who could be trusted the most, the spirit of the dead would leave this Earth too soon, forever to search for their final resting place.

Personally, Hinata thought that was bullshit, especially considering that their mother hadn’t gotten the same treatment. Her crimes were less than Hizashi’s, but she was a woman, and taking your own life was an original sin. It was not a part of the Hyuga Code of Honor. In fact, it was distinctively dishonorable, and so, Hiashi cremated their mother in private. The Family was not allowed to talk about Aoki Tanaka Hyuga, less you wanted a bloody mouth or salt in a wound. Hinata had seen punishments doled out, but of course, had never received one herself. 

In front of Neji, Hiashi stood in a solemn line with elders and Uncles who were the confidants to Hiashi, his brothers in arms, and lower-level bosses of the syndicate. They too were protected by a barrier of Family members who blocked off the street and made wide gestures suggesting drivers move around them. Just three more blocks to go.

At their mother's funeral, the priest was a close friend of Hiashi’s. He said a quiet prayer over her ashes. Hinata cried into Neji’s shoulder, and Hanabi quietly shook with her mouth in a wavering line. No one else had been invited––not even the elders. Not even Grandfather Reishi Tanaka, though Hinata had the suspicion that he did not want to attend. 

 Now, Hanabi stifled a sob, her skinny shoulder blades trembling beside Hinata. Hinata draped her shawl over her sister’s shoulders and rubbed her arms in an attempt to quell her sobs. It had been a shock when Hizashi was sent to prison after getting into a bar fight––resulting in murder––almost four years ago. The sentencing sent Hanabi into a spiral.

“It’s only ten years,” their father said, which had been a miracle in itself. Probably the only amount of time they could buy, having shaved off the rest of the sentencing through various acts of extortion, bribery, and blackmail. Walking free would send the city into flames, considering the entire act was caught on camera. Civilians needed to have some type of faith that their elected officials cared about systems of law and order. “Good behavior and he’ll be out in five.”

Hinata wasn’t sure why the whole thing affected Hanabi so much. Hizashi was an asshole. He was also a drunk, and he could also be blamed for their mother’s death, though Hanabi probably didn’t know that. Hanabi had only been 12 at the time, so she probably just wasn’t equipped to deal with such a close loss, especially after their mother had passed only a year earlier. 

But really, who knew? It was probably all the rapid change. Hinata held Hanabi close to her body but had her eyes on Neji––whom she was really concerned about. 

The small city of Family members entered the chapel. The First Family all filed into the building first, followed by a concession of the lesser Family holding up the casket and carrying it to the pulpit in a long, solemn, row. Once Hizashi’s body was in a resting position, Hiashi took in front of the church next to Neji, followed by Hinata and Hanabi, followed by elders, Uncles, and everyone else. The line was so long that it went back out the front door of the chapel and led into the cemetery. As was custom, people who came to pay their respects to the great Hyuga Hizashi must bow to every Family member on their way to view the body. Only then could the funeral begin. 

People started entering the hall, and the chapel windows glowed a harsh red light across the Hyuga’s stark attire. Hinata shielded her eyes from the reflections, focusing on the rows and rows of pews that slowly started to be filled as people began to pay their respects to the line of grieving Family. They bowed the lowest when they stepped in front of Neji and the First Family, almost to their knees, their foreheads brushing the ground. Hinata had watched many ponytails sweep up dust particles this way. When they stood back up, it was customary for Hinata to nod her head in acknowledgment, then they would move on to Hanabi who was beside her, and repeat the same progress until they ended with Grandfather Miroku who led the line. 

When Neji first heard the news, his expression was indiscernible. Tenten had reacted more than he had, clinging to Neji’s side as if to hold him up when she looked like the person who needed holding. Hinata knew it was no use. Neji’s soft gasp of disbelief was about the only emotion she knew would come from him. 

Neji loved his dad. He loved him less when he was drunk, which was often, especially after Hanabi and Hinata’s mother died. Which meant that Neji didn’t get many opportunities to love his dad at all. In prison, Hizashi sent letters, many of them hateful sermons about the wrongs his twin brother had done to him after assuming the status of Father, which he’d risen to position almost thirty years ago. These letters only went to Neji, but he’d shared one or two with Hinata, so he’d have a witness to their destruction. 

Hizashi had been an eloquent guy. His role in the Family was one of communication. This, of course, was before he became a drunk. You must keep mentioning this because it was truly the cause of his downfall. He was a great orator. He could convince almost anyone to do anything. He was so good at it, he thought he would almost certainly be named the Father. 

The thing was, Hiashi was loved more. He was firstborn, stronger, more cunning (and more vile), and simply more loved . Hiashi didn’t have to convince anyone in the Family to love him like Hizashi had to, he was simply loved because it was who he was. More than that, he was respected. He was a man that respect fell on as if compulsory. He compelled respect, so really, Hizashi never had a chance. 

Neji, God bless him, was different. He compelled respect, too. He was a prodigy. Hinata thought Hizashi was actually jealous of him for it. When he thought that everyone was sleeping or gone out, he would lay a flat hand upon Neji’s flesh, inflaming the skin. Don’t worry, it didn’t last long. Soon Neji grew stronger and more sure of his body, and that ended a little after the drinking began. 

More bodies filled the pews. Hinata hadn’t been aware that she had bowed her head almost 100 times by now. With one arm wrapped around Hanabi, she bowed her head reflexively, and when she looked up in acknowledgment, she was staring into eyes as green as the gulf, just north of city limits. 

Fuck , she thought suddenly, alarmed. Suna Gaara was staring at her with a long, blank stare. He had a ghost of a smile on his face like he was smug. He probably was. Hizashi had been jailed nearly four years ago for killing Gaara’s uncle Baki, and now Hizashi would be six feet under right there with him. If it wasn’t for carefully drawn treaties and almost a century of historied collaboration, Hizashi might’ve drunken his way, and his Family, into a legendary gang war with Suna.

Their relationship still wasn’t great after that. It was more than just big for Gaara and his people to show up here, it was necessary. Not doing so would be the biggest disrespect of them all, and Hiashi wouldn’t take lightly to it. Still, the sight of Garra sent chills down her spine as he looked her up and down. She suddenly felt the blood rush to her face as she noticed the action, suddenly anxious about the low skirt of her black dress. 

“Hinata,” Garra said quietly as neither of them dared look away. Not even Hinata as her ears went red. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

You’re not , she thought. Instead, she smiled, tightening her grip on Hanabi, and said, “T-thank you, Gaara. I hope the Family is good.”

“The Family is great and will continue to be,” Gaara said evenly, his eyes mischievous and unkind. It was like he was trying to hide a smirk. “God willing.”

“God willing,” Hinata replied. 

Hinata let herself breathe once he moved on. She was able to keep composure even when Temari was next, a similar ironic look in her eyes as she bowed to her. Temari had never scared Hinata though, even with her sharp fans, and Hinata thanked her for supporting their Family. Kankuro, who was the size of Gaara twice, leered over her in a less-respectful way, but he was the known Suna knucklehead, and Hinata was confident that one day, his cocky smile would be knocked from his face. 

She watched the Sunas fill in another couple of rows. Their whole family didn’t come, but a good number piled in, so Hinata knew their relationship was on the mend. She chanced a glance at her father, who looked wholly unaffected by their attendance.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” a low, smooth voice startled her, and she turned her attention back to the person in front of her. He was taller than her, with spiky black hair, and a beautiful face––truly that was the only way to describe him. His eyes were black onyx and they held her gaze in an intense stare. “May the Family be blessed for the rest of time.”

In exchange, she looked deeply into his face for an inappropriate length of time. Did she know him? She swore she could place him, but didn’t at all know where. Someone cleared their throat suddenly, and Hinata realized she’d been holding up the line, looking into the eyes of this stranger. Even Hanabi nudged her confusedly, as the line of people suddenly halted at Hinata. 

Hinata shook her head in an effort to clear her thoughts. “G-god willing,” she replied in bewilderment, bowing her head. The stranger moved on and bowed to her sister, who sent a strange look at Hinata when she thought the man was not looking.

As she continued accepting the respects of hundreds of people, enough to fill the chapel to its doors and spill outside onto the pavement––she watched this stranger shake hands with her father boldly, move on to speak to the elders and sit in one of the only remaining seats in the foremost back pew. He smiled at her when he caught her gaze, and it sent chills down her spine. 

God willing. 

-:-

      three weeks later

-:-

“L-let’s go,” Hinata slammed the car door and Neji pulled off quietly. “Sorry it took so long, Father forgot we were going. I just got the new key.”

“How could he forget?” Neji questioned, bemused. It was rare for Hiashi to forget even the simplest of tasks if he were the one doling them out––especially to the likes of Neji or Hinata. Neji turned out of their driveway, heading south towards Katō Park. 

“It’s v-very busy,” Hinata said. There had been lots of meetings since Hizashi’s death, especially those with Suna.  She snapped on her seatbelt over her casual dress of slim Nike yoga pants, an oversized green hoodie, and running shoes. Her hair was pushed back from her face into a slick ponytail––not unlike Neji’s––so that she had full access to a range of vision. She had learned from a young age to be alert to her surroundings, else she might pay a steep price. 

She was armed, too. It was a rule. Especially on these runs. 

Neji was wearing a similar ensemble of dark athleisure. He shifted gears confidently as they left the gates of the Estate. “Uncle usually doesn’t forget things like this.”

Neji was the only person in the Family to call Hiashi “Uncle.” It was mainly out of respect for his actual father, Hizashi, though many assumed that after his death, Neji would switch to the honorary title everyone else deferred to. Hiashi said it was not necessary, for he and Neji had a specific bond that they would honor and maintain. 

The Uncles, other bosses, who had their own Families, could be called father by their underlings if they pleased, but these underlings were still taught who the real Father was. The whole thing was a complex network of politics, politeness, and etiquette. And even though Hinata had been born into the divine complexities that were the Hyuga Syndicate, she could never wrap her brain around the paternal system of respect. 

For instance, if she were to ever take her Father’s place, she would cringe to be called “Mother.” It just sounded sick. When Aoki was living, she was simply called, “The Lady.” Whatever. 

“Father usually doesn’t h-have this much going on,” Hinata replied, in defense of the man. Nearing his mid-50s and in charge of over almost one thousand men spread through Konoha, Japan, and a few countries overseas, he had more than enough on his plate to keep him full and preoccupied. The Uncles were always reliable and knew how to keep their Families under control, reporting to Hiashi and Hiashi only, but the shift in attention with Suna was causing a strain. There was something new and more dangerous in the air. 

“Gaara’s on his ass,” Neji rolled down the window and cool air streamed into the vehicle. He extended his arms, flashing the four-fingered gesture of quiet, and pulled his car into a stop in a driveway.  “Uncles are on his ass, too, though he won’t admit it. They want revenge

––I’m worried.”

“Worried about what?”

Hinata slid out of the vehicle. Choji was outside smoking a cigarette, his free left hand hovering over his waist where his handgun likely rested under his thick coat. He nodded his respect to both of them, muttering gruffly, “Ino is here.”

“Great, thanks Choji,” Hinata replied quietly. Neji was close behind her, and she tipped her head to hear his response. Together, they entered Yamanaka Flowers, their dark bodies clashing elegantly with the explosion of fauna and colors that greeted them once indoors. The humid air made Hinata’s skin feel luxurious as she navigated giant heads of roses, tall spindly branches of Birds of Paradises, and raunchy bunches of purple carnations.

Briefly, Neji disappeared from sight amongst the foliage and Hinata followed his swift footsteps, bounding familiarly off of the brown and cream checkered linoleum. Somewhere above her, a fan blew, filling the shop with white noise and blowing her bangs into her forehead. 

She’d loved this flower shop since she was a child, and could remember spending hours chasing Ino through tall heads of lilies, carrying dirt in her palms from room to room. Her father would sit for long hours in the greenhouse with Uncle Inoichi, the sweet musky scent of men and fresh marijuana spilling out of the doorway while they spoke in low tones.

 Sometimes, Aoki would come to gossip with Ino’s mother, or they’d sit at their husband’s feet sending money through feeders or harvesting buds of marijuana by trimming the large leaves with pocket knives. Once they were finished, Ino’s mother would roll a fat blunt for them all to enjoy, and Ino and Hinata would sit behind the doorway, inhaling deeply in search of a childish contact high. At the Yamanka’s, laughter and movement always seemed to be in abundance.

The Yamanakas had provided the flowers for the funeral, covering Hizashi’s casket head to toe with Carnations of different hues of purple and blue. Hinata ran her hand over the petals, watching his lifeless face stare back at hers, a mirror of her father's. The sight of death on her father’s face scared her, so she could not imagine how Neji felt looking at his uncle every day. She caught up to him at the back, where he meticulously moved pots out of the walkway with a mild shake of his head. 

“I’m worried,” Neji said once he finished moving pots so that they could finally reach the back door. It was covered in charts listing various watering cycles, plant nutrients, and shipment information. He took a clipboard off the back of the door and flipped until he reached a printed graph with shipments written on it, humming quietly when he examined who had come by last. Once satisfied, he unlocked the door, gesturing Hinata forward. “––tension with Akatsuki will escalate and put us in a bad position. We can’t afford to lose Suna right now.”

“We won’t,” Hinata said, maybe too confidently, because Neji looked up from the second clipboard he’d grabbed––the one next to a lone magazine clip––to stare at her blankly. His eyebrows lifted, how do you know ?

“J-just guessing,” Hinata said, turning her head to look away. She focused on a pair of pink rubber gloves that sat on top of a safe. She walked towards it, trying to hide her burning cheeks. 

Okay. This was how she knew: She knew because she knew that the Suna honor code was so incredibly similar to their own that any apparent difference led to spirited conversations. She knew the honor code because she knew Gaara. She knew Gaara well, or at least she had five years ago.

She thought of all the hours they had spent together in the quiet of his bedroom, leafing through records and smoking weed until they couldn’t move from whatever position they had fallen into. At 17 and 18, they didn’t have the Family obligations they did now. Suna and Hyuga both believed in their studies as high schoolers, and though the post-secondary-education route was not necessarily promoted, they wouldn’t deny them that, either. Besides the weekly training with syndicate members they had to attend, they truly were free to just be kids. But only for a little while.

It was a rare time of joy and ease they would never get back, and it was part of what made their relationship with each other so simple. Hinata often snuck into his room late into the evenings and they’d stay up together watching comedies and eating snacks. They gave each other hand-poked tattoos and played video games, and they rarely ever mentioned their families. Not even after they’d stolen liquor from the corner store, and drank until the bottles were done. They knew how to hide their secrets because the secrets were their birthrights.

 They had learned to love quietly in that sunset room, but one day the love had turned bad. One day something ruptured. It became a rotten, dirty thing. 

Hinata knelt to her knees and turned the combination of the safe, pushing her tongue against her teeth in concentration. When it finally clicked open, she shifted the store banks to the side until she found a slender key hidden amongst a stack of old receipts. She replaced it and pocketed the old one before slamming the door shut. 

Neji called her an optimist and she ignored him. They went through the back door and into the courtyard, where they found Ino sitting in a hot tub with Shikamaru. Shikamaru was the son of an Uncle who lived in a different city. He moved to Konoha for undergrad before dropping out and joining the Syndicate full-time.  Generally, though, he tried to stay out of things. 

“Little cold for the jacuzzi, don’t you t-think?” Hinata teased when she saw Ino’s face turn red after being caught. It was almost winter, after all. 

Ino got up, shivering almost immediately when her bare skin hit the freezing air. Her swimsuit was a tiny piece of purple fabric. “Sorry,” she said apologetically, though after a few seconds had passed she no longer looked it. “Do you guys need help?”

“Ignore us,” Neji rolled his eyes and Hinata followed, lifting her eyebrows suggestively at the pair of relaxing young adults. No wonder Choji was outside alone nursing his cigarette. He was probably sick of the two of them. 

At the third greenhouse, Neji unlocked the door with a code on a keypad. The smell of marijuana wafted to greet their nostrils. Hinata touched the blooming plants as she passed, noting that some were budding and others were nearing harvest, their buds practically exploding with giant masses of weed that weighed the branches down by their sheer girth. 

There was a storage closet in the back, which Hinata unlocked with a different key from before. Once unlocked, she knelt in front of it. 

Neji handed her the backpack he’d been carrying, and she took out a screwdriver, which she used to remove two bolts and a turnplate, the mechanisms that held the lock in place. 

Neji was anxiously tapping his foot beside her so she made quick work of replacing the lock with a new one, using a copy of the same key they’d put in the safe. Once inside, Hinata deposited the copied key between the weathered pages of a farmer’s almanac that rested on a shelf. Before it, was yet another large safe which Hinata patted good-naturedly and called “ol’ faithful.”

They completed this process every time there was big activity in the Estate. Today just seemed exceptional because they were moving goods. Hiashi Hyuga was into safety, and though he was the keeper of many safes, this one was one of the more important, best-hidden ones. Hinata opened this safe with ease, trying not to squish Neji’s tapping foot with her fist. “Could you s-stop?”

“Sorry,” he grumbled. “We just have another drop to make today and––”

“I know, I know,” Hinata said. “Y-you have a date with Tenten. Just give me the b-bag. I’ll hurry up.” 

Hinata took the bag, put on a pair of nitrile gloves she’d stored in the pocket of her hoodie earlier that day, and traded two bricks of cocaine for a thick stack of 100s, an envelope with Hiashi’s name on it, and a flash drive. The flash drive she put in her bra so that she could feel it against her skin at all times. She would pass it along to her father later, though she would not tell him where she’d routinely chosen to hide it. It just felt safer that way. 

“D-done,” she stood, dusting off her pants with finality. 

When they walked back through the courtyard, passed Ino and Shikamaru in the hot tub, passed the back room with the safe, passed the towering monstera leaves, and finally passed the dozen pink peonies, Hinata watched an employee wrap the flowers up for a woman with equally pink hair. Only then did Hinata feel the depths of her loneliness cross over her shoulders and render her exhausted. 

“These are gorgeous,” the pink-haired woman said. Hinata felt the sound of the woman’s voice scratch at the thing in her brain that traditionally gave her warnings. She filed this information away for later. “I’ll definitely be coming back.”

-:-

Neji drove past Katō Park with his fingers tapping on the steering wheel. Hinata guessed it was a hot date, the way he was acting. He and Tenten had only been dating about three and a half months at that point, but they’d spent many long years in flirtation, and even longer ones as best friends. It was easy the way Tenten had slipped into their family, behaving like an additional cousin or sibling who knew just what buttons to push and what buttons to avoid. Hinata liked her a lot, and even more so liked knowing that love was a real and tangible thing. If Neji and Tenten could cross the rivers of friendship into something new and exciting and scary as a committed relationship, Hinata hoped that there was hope for her too. 

The streets passed in a long gray line. There was nothing much worth noting east of Yamanaka Flowers. They passed funeral home, corner store, laundromat, shrine, take-out, loan agency, and not much else in a stream of flashing buildings. It began to snow for the fourth time that week, leaving snowflakes to melt upon contact with the windshield. None of the snow had stuck yet. 

She laid her head against the cool window. There were so many things about herself she thought were hard to love. For one thing, she was boring. For another, she spent too much time helping with the Family. For the third, she was just too squeamish. Who would want to date a woman who stuttered every time she spoke out of nervous PTSD? Who would want a woman who jumped out of her skin every time her flesh was so much as brushed?

Not to mention...she felt absolutely ruined after her damned relationship with Gaara Suna at 19-years-old. Every time she went on a date with a guy, she couldn’t sleep for hours afterward, dreading the thought of it getting too serious. Because after that what would happen? He’d try to plant spyware on her? Or worse––he’d actually turn out to be a good guy. He’d want to meet her family. He’d want to meet her father . He’d want her to move out of the Estate, get an apartment with him, and start pumping her with babies. She’d have to become a nurse or something to provide for her new family, forget her past, and lie to her husband about the family business! She might even not be able to leave the Hyuga business and would operate living a dual life, sneaking away at night to––

“––Hinata.” Neji had stopped the car. They were pulled over in front of yet another laundromat. This one had a yellow  awning, and in big block letters proclaimed “SCRUB DADDY.” Hinata recognized it immediately. She’d always hated its name. 

“Huh?” Hinata muttered awkwardly. She hadn’t heard a word he’d said. 

“I said, there’s a new guy at Scrub Daddy. Uncle wants us to check up on him, see how he's doing.”

“Oh,” Hinata said. She peered out of the window across the street. A tall figure dressed in black was leaning against one of the glass windows of the laundromat, his features hidden from view. He was shielded from the snow. Behind him, the lights from the facility glowed from within and the windows were fogged. She could just see a few bodies milling about, washing their delicates. “He’s running it?”

“He has shifts,” Neji said. “He’s new. You know how Uncle is.”

Hinata said nothing. She watched as the new guy noticed them and kicked himself off the wall, taking long, confident steps towards the vehicle. When he finally got to the window, he took the hood of his hoodie off and Hinata stifled a gasp when they locked eyes.

It was the same man from the funeral three weeks ago. His dark eyes stared at her piercingly as if they were deciding what to make of her, and Hinata could not look away. The exchange only lasted a millisecond, but when he finally flickered his gaze to her cousin, she could feel the breath she was holding leave her chest. 

Cursing herself, she felt her ears heat. She looked away and out of her window, choosing to stare at a competing laundromat next door. This one had plants in the windows, their long-reaching leaves smashing up against the foggy glass. Maybe we should get plants too , Hinata thought, looks more peaceful in there . 

Ten years ago this block was hot, dangerous, and in the middle of a trite territory war. Hizashi held position at Scrub Daddy, standing tall and proud at the entrance every day and directing business in the back, behind the rows of hanging clothes where they conducted high-quality dry cleaning for fur coats and duvets and stuff like that. The back had paneled wood and dozens of homemaker signs like “God is Watching Over You!” displayed in little golden frames. Past the panels was a small room full of ammunition, alcohol, and sweaty men. 

They’d won the war with a long string of bullets and nights setting various properties on fire. The block became quiet again. Hizashi returned to more important locations. Scrub Daddy became a casual stronghold and a centerpiece for pushing hard drugs.  

“How’d you manage that?” Neji was saying to the newcomer, who was leaning back casually away from the car. He made eye contact with Hinata again, a slow smirk coming across his face when he caught her curious gaze. Hinata tried not to look away again, besides, Neji’s disbelieving tone had piqued her interest. 

“I’m charismatic,” the guy said. He spoke in a low, smooth voice that raised the hairs on the back of Hinata’s neck. “People want to talk to me, but they want drugs more. Here.”

He reached into the backpack that had been hanging low against his back, and pulled out a couple of thickly rubber-banded bills. Snow began to pile into his hair and he shook it out, sending cold droplets into Neji’s face. Neji frowned and took the money, undoing the rubber bands and counting quickly. 

“Shenji’s been in the back bagging this shit,” he said. “We’ll need to re-up soon.”

“Hm,” Neji hummed. He handed the money to Hinata without looking at her. He was far too busy sizing up this new person. To her, he said, “Count this again?” To the man, he said, “Shenji...that blonde guy?”

The man nodded. Hinata counted quickly, moving the bills between her hands with practiced accuracy. She handed the bulk of the cash back to Neji.

“That’s 5K,” she said. The smaller pile she dutifully rolled and rubber-banded, then reached across Neji to hand it to the man. She was nervous, but she also wanted to be assertive for some reason. She wanted to show him that she did more than count money when asked. “T-this...is your profit.”

He took it, sliding his hand over hers. Hinata tried not to jump at the unexpected contact, but he quickly withdrew, smoothly putting the money into his pocket. “When can we re-up?”

“I’ll be by tomorrow,” Neji said. He kept looking at the man as if he were trying to figure out where to place him, and he looked annoyed. “Hang tight. Don’t be too fucking flashy with it, either.”

“Who said I’m flashy?” the man replied dryly, already taking steps away from them. He shoved his hands into his pockets, “I just handle my business.”

Neji didn’t dignify him with a response. Hinata rolled her eyes at the overwhelmingly masculine tone of the conversation. As Neji pulled off with a puff of aggravated smoke off his Mustang, Hinata questioned, “how long has he been with the Family?”

“Not long enough to trust him,” Neji muttered, and so she thought better of asking for his name.

Chapter Text

“Permission to enter zone six.” Sasuke spoke into a nondescript phone, his mask already covering the tired expanse of his face. 

“Your name?” A voice came through the phone clearly, though it seemed tinged by slight annoyance. 

Sasuke ignored the annoyance for now. “Crow,” he said. “From...Konoha Unit 9.”

“Ah,” the voice said. There was a long pause and Sasuke could hear speedy typing coming from the other end of the phone. They were checking cameras, making sure he wasn’t being followed, and registering his BMW. “Permission granted. Enter through door three. An associate will meet you and bring you directly to your team.”

Sasuke muttered his thanks and pulled into a sleek tunnel. After driving 6 yards or so, a metal door slid open, and he drove farther into the darkness until he came upon something that looked like a parking garage. He followed the yellow arrows leading him to so-called “door 3” navigating his car up a floor and passing what looked like a crew of Nascar workers who were quickly removing steaming tires off of a fucked-up convertible.

His new headquarters was two and a half hours away from Konoha, making it a real pain in the ass to get there. He guessed they did that on purpose. It wouldn’t be permissible if he was seen walking into a random downtown building by his new boss when the Hyugas already seemed inherently suspicious of him. Neji Hyuga looked like he was eager to run him over with his Mustang if Sasuke so much as twitched the wrong way, leaving Sasuke to wonder if he remembered him after all.

In any case, his new assignment was to one of the bigger operational ANBU stations, sitting tight and hidden in the cozy countryside. Mostly, they did intelligence work and training here, but it also aided in distancing agents from the locations of their missions. It also meant Sasuke wouldn’t be checking in with his full team as often, which was a blessing in some ways, and a curse in others. He likely would not return to this location for several more weeks, and only if he could manage to sneak away without making the Hyugas suspicious. 

He got out of his car, thinking about the strange unnamed Hyuga who sat beside Neji in his Mustang, counting money confidently, and handing him his cut. She was obviously of importance, otherwise, she wouldn’t have reached over Neji like that––she was definitely more than just a passenger-seat girlfriend or something. That couldn’t be right, they looked related. 

He’d bowed to her at the funeral, her striking eyes giving him pause until he shook his head and moved on. So, she was family. She was at the front of the chapel, after all. Perhaps she was a sister or a cousin, someone not as central to the Hyuga Syndicate, but knowledgeable and present nonetheless. In the car, her energy had been placid, but that didn’t mean she was unaffected. 

The major clans liked to keep the identities of the Family members private, so it was hard to know exactly who that woman in the car was and what her relationship to the clan was. Sasuke could remember a similar disposition among the Uchiha. He’d spent most of his childhood in the shadows of his older brother, father, and uncles, watching them step up to make dangerous and enduring decisions. He’d sit beside the koi pond in their garden, watching men speak quietly amongst themselves while holding their weapons close to their bodies. 

The day he was playing soccer alone on the field was the day he’d looked up from his ball and saw two sets of Hyuga eyes staring back at him from the outdoor patio where his father sometimes drank liquor. Hyuga Hizashi and a young Neji stood anxiously, their faces taut. Sasuke watched Fugaku exchange a few terse words with them, his expression drawn and strange. Then, he went inside with Hizashi, leaving Neji to sit alone in the glaring sun.

Sasuke went up to him. “Who are you?”

“Hyuga Neji,” the boy, only a year or two older than him, replied. “Who’re you?”

"Uchiha Sasuke. What are you doing here?” 

Neji shrugged his shoulders, “I don’t know and I don’t think it’s any of your business.”

“It doesn’t seem like it’s your business either, since you don’t even know,” Sasuke retorted. “Anyway, it’s my house so I think I deserve to know.”

“You’re just a stupid kid,” Neji said, rolling his eye like he was that much older than him. 

“You can’t call me stupid when your dad is asking my dad for help. He wouldn’t need help if he was strong like my family,” Sasuke was puffing up his chest and crossing his arms. He didn’t know what he was talking about and was making assumptions, but one thing Fugaku had always taught him was that a man didn’t look down at his feet in front of an opponent unless he was submitting to him, and Hizashi Hyuga had done just that. “So I think you should watch your mouth, Hyuga.”

Then Neji lunged at him, swinging his tiny fists in a big arch over his head and aiming for Sasuke’s gut. He didn’t land anything, because Itachi caught the boy around the stomach and threw him hard onto the ground. He’d been standing in the doorway watching the entire exchange. 

Neji coughed on the ground, withering noiselessly as he attempted to get back on his feet. He was winded.

“That’s not fair,” Sasuke cried to his brother. “I could’ve taken him!”

“You could’ve, but you needn't,” said Itachi. “He is not welcome here, and any further disputes would cause problems I can’t explain to you right now.”

He turned to Neji, who was brushing grass off his pants. Hizashi reappeared on the patio, looking pale. He gestured for Neji to come, and they disappeared back through the house, exiting the compound in a silent, brisk walk.

“What was that even about? We hate the Hyugas, right ‘tachi?”

“Right, little brother,” Itachi smiled down at him, the sun eclipsing the top of his head making him seem like some sort of divine entity. “But you don’t need to worry about that right now. Go play.”

Sasuke went back to his lonely game of soccer. Shortly after that, the gunfire started.

“Welcome, Crow,” an associate said kindly, and Sasuke cleared his mind. He didn’t have time to daydream. 

He walked through a pair of glass sliding doors, reminiscent of a hospital or airport entryway, to greet the associate. She was holding a set of folders tightly against her chest and walked swiftly in front of him after he nodded. Her mask was some sort of gerbil.

“I am Hamster,” she said, essentially confirming his suspicion. “We’re very excited to have you join us here at Unit 7. Have you visited us before?”

“I haven’t,” Sasuke said, following her into a glass elevator. She hit the button for the 8th floor. “I’ve heard it's like the Pentagon of ANBU.”

Hamster giggled, though Sasuke didn’t know what was funny. “We offer plenty of services here, but we’re fairly specific to intelligence and tech needs. Your previous unit is the true innovator!”

Sasuke shrugged. It didn’t really matter to him; they were all the same agency. 

“Slow elevator,” he commented idly. It would’ve been less effort to take the stairs.

Hamster giggled yet again. No wonder she was called Hamster and was stuck doing baseless administrative work. “We’re really big fans of you over here, Crow. The work you did taking down the Orochimaru trafficking ring was––”

The elevator doors finally slid open, and Pig greeted them wearing her typical ensemble of a tight pink tank-top and a fitted Nike tennis skirt. Her hair was loose around her face this time, falling in waves around her mask. “I’ll take it from here, thank you Hamster.”

She escorted Sasuke away swiftly, glaring impassively at Hamster as she did so, muttering about her being annoying.

“When’d you get here?” Sasuke asked as the two of them took a turn down a long, glaringly white, hallway. His whole team had been relocated, but Pig was the only one who had to live there full time. 

“Couple days ago,” Pig replied. She opened a door to a room that was covered from floor to ceiling with computer screens. There were a couple of agents typing up reports or coding, and the sound of quickly moving fingers filled the room. “My new apartment is cute, smaller than my old place, but nice. You should come by and see it before you leave.”

Sasuke hummed but didn’t reply. Pig didn’t seem bothered, she opened another door, leading to a small room that she scanned her hand to open. “My office for now,” she said quietly. 

The view was nice, and Sasuke told her such, trying to be kind. It had big windows and a view of the valley, and in the distance, snow-capped mountains lined the skyline. The sun was hanging low in the sky and clouds slowly reached to cover it. She had a nice ergonomic chair, and a desk covered in equal parts with screens. This would be her first big mission with her offsite and in charge. The only person who was above her in decision-making was Ox, her mentor, who was already there, sitting at Pig’s desk. 

Fox was sitting on top of the desk, making jokes with Ox. He’d gotten in a day before, telling the Hyugas that he was leaving town to care for a sick auntie for a weekend. Sasuke had told them nothing, and just took the rest of the day off. This was likely the last time they would be able to get away without drawing attention. 

“What’s up, Crow?” He called, sliding off the desk. 

Ox turned to him too, her blonde hair sliding off her shoulder to land in a stream down her back as she stood to greet them. “Finally. Crow, Fox, welcome. This will be your last rendezvous in a long while. Pig, go ahead and tell them what you’ve uncovered.”

Sasuke could tell that Pig was secretly delighted by Ox's very mild compliment. Hidden between orders, she’d admitted that Pig had been diligent enough to uncover something that had once been deeply hidden. It was a compliment Pig would’ve been obnoxiously boastful about a few years ago, when their former team lead, Dog, would pat her head good-naturedly to show his pride. 

But Dog was no more, and Ox had stepped in where hard decisions mattered. This was one of them. 

Pig composed herself and keyed in a few things on her portable keyboard. Behind them, the wall lit with color as she projected a photo of an auto repair garage. It was about as normal as an auto-repair garage could get, except it sported a neon red sign at the top proclaiming: “Foreign Car Hospital.”

“Car repair for rich people,” Fox said. His eyes looked like he was smiling under the mask. 

Pig tapped a key and the image changed. Next was some sort of closet, lined with all types of various tools and car parts. There was a service door at the back of it. She tapped yet another key, and the door was open to reveal the lowlights of a bar. 

Sasuke said nothing, but his eyes caught a detail...the shape of a logo on a far away bottle. His eyes widened suddenly, “How did you––”

“I don’t get it,” Fox blurted, crossing his arms. “There’s tons of hidden speakeasies in town.”

“Yes, but are they all owned by the Akatsuki ?” Pig questioned, confirming Sasuke’s suspicion. Very subtly, there was a bottle of liquor that had the dark cloud of Akatsuki printed on it. “I found this place one day when investigating this garage for fun. There’s been coverage about all these carjackings happening in town. Real nice cars. Ferraris and shit.”

“Uh uh,” Fox said. “I’m following.”

“Well, police have been finding the cars later, absolutely gutted. You would think whoever’s stealing luxury vehicles would want to keep them, no? So I look up a list of places that sell and install foreign car parts. This place comes up as, maybe, the third or fourth Google result. It seemed inherently shady because what do we know about Maiko avenue?”

“Not quite the neighborhood for Porsches,” Sasuke humored her, already connecting the dots that Sakura had strung across the wall. 

“So, I pulled their business records, tax documents, whatever. Seems like business is going well. Maybe too well. I started thinking that maybe they’re stealing these cars, scrapping them for parts, and selling them back to a bunch of rich idiots. A basic scam. I started compiling a report so that I could send a tip to the police--”

“A normal Friday night for Pig, then?” Fox teased. 

“Fuck off,” Pig sent him a mean look. “It’s because of this you have an in! Anyway, I was still curious so I asked the guys in tech to hack into one of their security cameras, you know, to have a peek at who’s coming in and out. The cameras? Completely unhackable, at least by those guys. But it made me think––are basic criminals really going through that effort? What are they really hiding?”

At that point, Pig could tell she was losing them, so she hurried to finish her story. “Anyway, I went there myself one morning while on my run and located some cameras next door that might pick up something. I watched the footage later––it wasn’t great, just showed the edge of one of the driveways––-and saw this car pull off around 3 am. I ran the plates. Car was registered to a Maru Sanin, so at first, I figured they were stolen, but––”

“Orochimaru’s plates?” Fox seemed to realize this at the same time as Sasuke, and they both looked at each other, startled, before quickly looking away. Orochimaru was long incarcerated, but that mission they’d worked together over three years ago as rookies had set the tone for the rest of their careers. 

“Yeah,” Pig said quietly. “I knew it sounded familiar. I didn’t do anything with that information for a while, but the whole thing seemed weird. It’s mighty specific to use an imprisoned trafficking tycoon’s stolen plates so...I dug up Orochimaru’s file.”

“Pig...” Fox said, almost reaching for her but stopping himself. It must’ve been emotionally intense for Pig to put herself through that. That was one of the most painful missions of their lives. Just seeing Orochimaru’s face in the news had given Pig panic attacks for weeks. It wasn’t something that was ideal for an agent. They all had to go to therapy and take wellness exams just to be deemed fit to go back into the field. 

Pig waved him off, clearing her throat to continue: “Anyway, to wrap this up, I found that he’d once been in the Akatsuki. That connection seemed too important to ignore. So...” here, she sent Ox a sideways glance, though surely Ox already knew what would come next. “I sent my private contact to the garage, just to check it out. He was able to gain access to the club that’s inside after taking in a damaged bmw, and he pretty much confirmed it. I found one of Akatsuki’s secret clubs. It’s the only one we know of so far.”

Sasuke felt the edges of his vision blackout like he’d suddenly been submerged in pitch-black water. A shiver went up his spine and he knew, inherently, that he was closer than he’d ever been to finding his brother. 

But he didn’t have time for those thoughts, he could think them later when more information was known and he could process in the quiet of his studio apartment. Now, Fox was asking a stupid question, saying “What does this have to do with the Hyugas though?”

“It has everything to do with the Hyugas,” Sasuke grunted. “Don’t you remember? Akatsuki killed one of their own a couple of weeks ago. They’re going to want this information.”

Ox was nodding, pleased. “Exactly, and because you know something so secret, they’ll want you both closer to Hiashi. Remember, this is a retrieval mission. Your goal is to find the Byakugan File. Only then, can the Hyugas be taken down. You’d do well to remember that, Fox.”

“Yes sir,” Fox said, lowering his head. “But how do we tell Hiashi we came across this information?”

“That should be simple,” Sasuke said, suddenly resigned. Suddenly excited. Suddenly terrified. Intent like this hasn’t pulsed through his veins since Orochimaru, and they all knew how that ended. “I need to tell them who I am.”

“That’s a terrible plan!” Pig exclaimed, outraged. “That isn’t--that’s not--that doesn’t even make sense!”

But Ox was nodding again. “No, Pig, think again. An Uchiha is the most likely to know where the Akatsuki is. His brother is one of them, after all.”

Two masked heads swiveled to look at him. Pig was waving her hands from side-to-side, and an unrelenting gesture of no. “No, no, no. You’ll never be able to return to--”

“If this is successful, I’ll retire,” Sasuke said placidly. “If it fails, well...”

“It won’t fail,” Fox said. “I won’t let it. 

-:-

“So, Sasuke, I didn’t know you were suicidal,” Naruto said, already red in the face from all the sake they’d been drinking. They were sitting at a roadside bar, a real hole-in-the-wall, that served oozing bowls of steaming ramen. A few dozen yards away, the countryside spread out wide and far, and groups of brown cows sang in the distance. The sun was quickly making its descent below the sprawling mountaintops. The ground was lightly dusted with snow from a few days before.

“I’m not suicidal,” Sasuke said flatly. “I just want the Hyugas dead.”

Sakura hiccuped beside him, also red in the face. She was sitting on the other side of him. “Good thing we’re not cops, that statement is a lawsuit.”

“Not really, considering...” 

"That’s true,” Sakura agreed placidly, Sasuke didn’t need to say more. “Because the cops were in the Uchiha pockets too, right?”

“You’re drunk, so I’ll ignore that comment.”

“Yeah, yeah, low blow Sakura,” Naruto rallied. Then he turned back to Sasuke. “Why do you hate the Hyugas so much anyways?”

“Enough of this,” Sasuke made to stand from the bar. “I’m going to--”

“No, no, stay, we’ll stop,” Sakura grabbed his arm and pulled him into a sit. “Sorry, sorry. This whole thing is just intense and convoluted. I didn’t even expect the O-Orochimaru piece...”

She started hiccupping here. So much for a well-endowed and greatly feared agent; she was practically leaking tears over her rice dish. Sasuke sighed and sat back down, placing a heavy hand on her shoulder. Above them, red and green holiday decorations flashed gently.

“It’s okay to miss Kakashi, Sakura,” Sasuke said quietly. From his other side, Naruto stood up to wrap an arm around the weeping pinkette. He, too, had a heavy look eclipsing his gaze, and when he looked up, it was into the fields to grass and not his teammates. 

Honestly speaking, this was why Sasuke hated drinking with them. They always had to bring up Kakashi and get emotional about their futures. With his free hand, he finished his small cup of sake, at least to catch up with them. Sakura was shaking her head, saying “I didn’t want it to be true.”

“What?”

“The foreign car thing,” she admitted, whispering. She was making a small cocoon of herself, folding her arms against the bar and burying her head into them. The chef ignored them. He worked at Unit 7 in administration part-time. He was a  former full-time agent who liked the countryside too much to leave it. Sasuke remembered Ox recommending the shop, but of course, she didn’t say who he actually was. “I knew...I knew you wouldn’t let it go, Sasuke.”

His grip on the cup tightened, but he chose not to say anything mean. Instead, he poured more into it and drank until he felt his ears turn warm. A cold breeze wove its way past them, and the sun disappeared from view. 

He quickly finished the bottle, slamming it hard on the table when he was done. This was the first time he’d seen stars this bright in years. There were no clouds, no light pollution, and the darkness covered every corner. 

“It doesn’t matter,” he said, glaring into her tear-speckled face. “It’s a part of the mission now.”

-:-

All things considered, it was a nice apartment. It had a full kitchen next to its only room, where Sakura had laid her full mattress (no bed frame), a small desk (scattered with papers, sticky notes, and a lonely-looking desk lamp), and a growing pile of clothing (next to the door.) 

Of course, there were other things of note: a loaded rifle bedside, for one, which she’d blushed about and said she’d put it in the closet across from her tiny yellow tiled bathroom. (She later forgot to do that entirely.) A bucket of magazines and clips, glinting in the light. A flour jar that held three knives and a pistol. She was much too nervous to pretend to be normal. 

The rifle was nothing but a muted distraction after Sasuke laid her down that night. He hated that it had become a habit. It was a bad one, an awful one even, because Sakura wanted more from him than he could ever give. She knew that. 

Still, she was his friend, his teammate, and he truly hated to see her hurting. But...he had needs. And she was willing to fulfill them. 

After they enjoyed their hesitant routine of rugged, quiet, sex, Sasuke rolled off of her warm and trembling body to lay on his back. Next to the rifle was a dilapidated carton of cigarettes from which Sasuke shook one out and lit using the lighter that sat beside the bucket of clips. 

“I gotta go back south tonight,” he said, and then after a pause: “I thought you stopped smoking?”

“I know that,” Sakura replied, still slightly out of breath after orgasming. She got up slowly to grab a towel from her bathroom, flipping the switch and bathing the small room in brilliant yellow light. She ignored the cigarette question. “Want me to cry about it?”

“I think you’ve done enough crying today, Haruno,” Sasuke said as he ashed the cigarette. 

Sakura walked out of her bathroom and threw the used rag at his face. She had great aim, but Sasuke had better reflexes. He caught it with his free hand and discarded it next to the rifle. “You can be so mean sometimes, you know?”

He watched her naked body as she walked into the kitchen, flipping on more lights as if she were scared of the dark. She had a nice body, lean and plush where it needed to be and soft in places that were unexpected for an agent of her caliber. It was no question that Sakura was beautiful, and that perhaps Sasuke was a lucky man. Sometimes he thought of a normal life he could’ve had, had he met Sakura at a normal place, like a college campus or a supermarket. 

Instead, they’d both been orphans, along with Naruto, who were desperate for something to live for. ANBU had informants everywhere, in schools, at places of worship, within the government––and something about each of them had piqued their interest. Sasuke got tested in foster care, Naruto had a coach as an agent who saw his potential, and Sakura’s mentor had picked her up off the street after she’d witnessed her get away with pickpocketing ten men all on the same train car.  

At 14, Sasuke’s foster mother said he had a meeting with a very important person. The person was an agent and he invited Sasuke to a very special school. The rest was history, really. He graduated accelerated high school, completed college in two years, and was on the field after that. With every test he passed with genius-level capability, he was reminded of the days on the Uchiha compound, where the elders would walk around calling him a prodigy. 

He guessed it was a good thing he could use those good skills for something. 

“You want chicken? I’ve got leftovers,” Sakura called. “Beer, too.”

Sasuke grunted to confirm, drawing out another cigarette from the carton. Yeah, Sakura could be a good wife. She was kind and compassionate. Her place was a bit messy, but who had time to clean? To that note, she was an excellent worker: thoughtful, smart, and not afraid to stand up for herself. She was good at fucking him and liked being thrown around. She could be nurturing too, if she wanted to be. If they had kids, they’d be attractive and dramatically smart, and they both would do anything to protect and provide for them. He could make a life with her.

He slid an arm around her waist and she smiled, turning a cute pink color as she sat down on her bed, a plate of greasy fried chicken between them. She held out two green glass bottles slick with sweat, “Open these?”

He sat up and opened the bottles with his teeth because she liked to watch him do it. She did this thing where she sometimes pretended to be weak or incapable so that he could do whatever it was for her. He didn’t know if he liked that about her or not. He drank the beer, and Sakura watched his adam's apple move. He could tell her eyes on him had turned ravenous once more. 

Sakura had always loved him, and it scared him because he didn’t think himself capable of such a feeling. When they were younger, the love was more volatile, but as adults, she pretended like she had buried it away somewhere and thrown away the key. Sasuke knew what it meant to run his fingers down her thighs, but he did it anyway. 

They ate the chicken in silence for a while, getting their fingers nice and greasy as they tore the skin from the bone. Once the plate was only the remains, Sakura carried it back to the kitchen and Sasuke watched her do it, his eyes heavy and lidded with lust. 

It’s good that we can fuck for hours, he thought, as Sakura climbed on top of him, her scarred hands anchored to each of his shoulders as she began to move with him inside her.

This way, she could not ask any questions about his feelings or inflict any doubt on the mission. 

She didn’t need to know his true goal. He didn’t want her to fuck up his plans. 

Chapter Text

Hanabi was busy making plenty of noise as she ripped aluminum foil off the heads of baked dishes. They lined the table by the dozens, all different assortments of desserts: rich triple chocolate cakes, glistening apple pies, banana pudding, lightly dusted powdered donuts (for the elders who had a taste) made from scratch and deep-fried, creme Brulee made just right, and mochi resting in a bowl on top of buckets of dry ice. 

Hinata was inclined to ignore her. She set upon the long table a stack of indigo china along with small, golden forks. After that, she surveyed the spread appreciatively. There was something for everyone––they’d made sure of that.

Hanabi huffed again, a frustrated teenage sound that begged attention, and slammed something down upon the table. This time, Hinata turned to raise an eyebrow at her brimming sister, who had her arms crossed in front of her mint green crewneck. Her hair was in a messy bun, and she was wearing leggings and a pair of slippers––a stark contrast to Hinata’s ensemble of sleek, black dress which fell an inch or so below her knee with a slight slit up the thigh, and hugged the rest of her body like a glove. It had a square neckline and thin straps which caused her freckled shoulders to acquire dozens of goosebumps, but she could do nothing about the temperature. Her father liked it cold. 

So she’d worn a light purple shawl, which hung loosely around her body as she did this and that in preparation. Her feet, too, were enclosed in slippers, but she’d gone to dinner an hour before, and Hanabi had not, so her square-heeled Valentino’s sat overturned and forgotten in the doorway. Her hair was curled gently around her delicately painted face. Hanabi stared into it with an intentionally disdainful glower. 

Hinata laid her hands out flat in front of her, trying to stop Hanabi’s bubbling temper from erupting. “You think I want to--”

“Why can’t I join yet? I’m basically a fucking adult!” 

“H-Hanabi,” Hinata frowned at her tone. She straightened from beside the china she’d been arranging. “You’re 15. You know how Father feels about this. Besides...if you actually had to go, you’d know why I don’t want to.”

Hanabi glared at her. She had always been a grumpy, angry child, taken to throwing tantrums and picking fights with Hinata and Neji. When they finally grew out of being egged on, the younger Hyuga turned to schoolmates and neighbors to lay her frustrations on. She loved the thrill of throwing her fists back, angling her body, and flinging all of her force behind one calculated punch. She liked to fight. She always had, especially after Aoki had gone and left the Earth. 

“You don’t want to because you don’t really have anything to do with Family Business,” Hanabi said meanly. 

This wasn’t true, but Hinata couldn’t fault Hanabi for thinking as much. Because Hanabi was underaged, Father had forbidden Hinata from talking to her about the Syndicate. It didn’t help that Hanabi liked to fight so much, there was no telling what she would get into once she was allowed to be a part of anything. Hinata lived in constant fear of the day Hanabi turned 18. 

No, it was good she couldn’t join the Affair right now. She needed to stay away as long as possible. Perhaps Hinata could change her mind within the limited span of three years, and convince Hanabi to go to college somewhere far away from Konoha altogether. 

When Hanabi was a child, she was intentionally shielded by their mother. Aoki had seen what the Syndicate had done to her other child: walking in while Hiashi's stoic form stood over Neji and Hinata with their hands shoved inside of an animal carcass, teaching them the difference between a pound, an ounce, and an immediate jail sentence. She wanted Hanabi to have no part in it, so she put her foot down when Hiashi came to retrieve Hanabi for what would be her first lesson in the trade. 

Whenever Aoki sat down to brush her hand over Hinata’s bangs, she thought about how the small girl was probably a lost cause. It was too late for her. She knew too much, and she was already prone to saying the right things to the right people at the right time. Even with Hinata’s shy nature, it was concerning that a child knew just what to say to get what she needed.

All this mothering was happening at a time when Aoki had needed something safe to protect when she had put at risk everything else simply because of her own desires. Hanabi was not yet under Hiashi’s fingernail, and Aoki wanted to keep her that way...just in case.

A paper door slid open and Hanabi and Hinata’s heads snapped in the direction of footfall. Hiashi entered the room dressed in a dark, tailored suit. He looked appreciatively at the spread of desserts and then at his daughters. If he’d heard them bickering, he didn’t say anything about it. They both dipped their heads in a bow.

“I need the room,” was all Hiashi said.

Of course, Hanabi: “But the Affair doesn’t start until––”

Hinata elbowed her in the side, grabbing the crook of her elbow to lead her out first. “O-of course, Father,” Hinata said, pushing Hanabi with her free index finger, knowing that it hurt, and not caring. “I’ll see you later tonight.”

She was so busy prodding her younger sister with nails in an effort to escort her out, that she almost didn’t notice Suna Gaara standing in the doorway. When her shoulder brushed his chest upon her exit, her breath got stuck. She choked and started coughing, completely red in the face.

As she tried to catch her breath, Gaara glared down at her with a perfectly hateful gaze. Despite herself, her shock turned to anger, because she’d done nothing to deserve it. She released Hanabi and opened her mouth to say something, anything to him, when he stepped away abruptly, sliding the door shut. She was so close to the door that it brushed the tip of her nose and she felt the air swoop past with the dismissal.  

“I’ll kill him,” Hanabi said as if it was a fact that could not be contested. Hinata didn’t disagree with the sentiment––if one thing was for certain it was that Gaara had always been bold. 

-:-

When Hinata was 18, Gaara laid her down in a bed of her favorite flowers. Everything felt right when he wrapped his arms around her body and held her tightly against his chest. Sometimes, at night when she could sneak away, she would shake with nightmares. Sometimes, at night, he would too. They learned to love each other that way, in the dark and pushing fear out the space with their hands and shoulders.

There was a moment when it felt like they could last forever. Hinata remembered this vividly; it was in April, and the first signs of true spring had started to dot the ground with the heads of yellow flowers. Hinata had spent an hour and a half on the train, on the way to a restaurant two suburban towns over so that she could not be accidentally seen by anyone in the Family. 

“Hey,” Gaara said when he spotted her walking towards their table. He got up like he always did, and slid his hand under her sweater to lay it flat against the skin of her back. She melted into his touch, their bodies molding together for a few warm seconds. He breathed in the scent of her hair. It was always like they were meeting for the first time over and over again, the two of them. “I was worried.”

Gaara was always worried. It had taken Hinata the better part of the year to learn this about him because he liked to hide it. His appearance was intimidating––all the edges, dark clothes, and scathing looks––but really, it was armor. When they sat down to eat, weariness rested on the skin of his face like a mask. 

“N-no need to be, I’m here,” Hinata assured. She pulled her laptop out of her bag and immediately started pulling up a webpage to show him. When she looked up from the screen, he still looked wary. “What’s going on?”

His expression changed minutely, and Hinata knew intrinsically that they were entering the taboo part of their relationship. The thing they tried so hard to ignore. She reached across the table to clasp his hand, but he moved it back and looked away. 

“Listen,” he said in a low tone, his eyes were distracted; he was staring out the window of the cafe. Across the street, a group of teens walked rowdily out of a record store. A couple in the rear were holding hands, their heads bent close together in conspiracy. “I um...I...my father...”

He trailed off. Hinata’s hand felt lonely and cold on the table, and he made no movement to grab it. His eyes darkened and his jaw tensed. He was working the bone there, and she could see his skin tightening and loosening with the action. It was here when Gaara looked the most dangerous; looked every part Suna, and every part determined. It was how he looked before he was about to start a fight. 

Hinata had only seen Gaara fight a handful of times, at concerts or raves, but never in the context of the Suna Syndicate. It happened when men got too close to her, or when they shoved passed him rudely. He’d straighten up his back and send his left fist flying, blackening an eye until it no longer opened. He could be ruthless if it meant respect. He didn’t let anyone get away with treating him poorly. It was something Hinata admired about him, but sometimes when they’d meet up after spending days apart, he’d show up bruised with cuts across his face. His hands would be calloused and his eyes haunted. When she would ask what had happened he’d give her a taunt, distanced look, and say “family stuff.”

So the conversation would be closed just like that, middle of the chapter, with no hopes of finishing. Hinata learned to love him that way, and he learned to love her, even when she showed up with her own unfinished pages, even when he had questions he’d have to cast into the night because there would be no answer coming from Hinata’s loyal mouth. 

Gaara grabbed her hand suddenly, and Hinata looked up. He was looking into her face now, though his expression had scarcely changed. With his hand, Hinata felt its familiar roughness and she squeezed it supportively. Finally, he cleared his voice again and said, “My father...he’s sick. I don’t know if you’ve heard...”

The Families talked and rumors spread, but whenever Hinata heard the name Suna on her father’s tongue she left the room. She shook her head, “I-I didn’t know, Gaara. I’m so sorry.”

Gaara leaned back, taking his hand with him again. He was sighing and rubbing his temples. When he turned his head, she noticed his neck was dark with bruises that suggested he’d been choked. “Yeah well,” he didn’t acknowledge what she’d said. “The Family is worried. It’s uh, it’s...reasonable. My father agrees. He wants to...name me Father.”

Hinata’s stomach dropped: “What?” and she recoiled slightly before immediately blurting out, without thinking, “Not Kankuro?! Isn’t he older?”

Gaara sent her a sharp look. It was unlike them to name their family members, and it was strange hearing his name on her tongue. She immediately looked away, embarrassed and upset. She felt heat begin to rise to her face, her breath increasing. If Gaara was going to be a Father, well that just... 

What would that mean for the two of them?

“I’m almost 19,” Gaara said. “I know we don’t talk about this stuff but...I make a lot of decisions already on behalf of the Family. I’m prepared to do this.”

Hinata just blinked at him uneasily. She had thought they were the same––she didn’t know that he’d been an active member so young. She was shocked to find out that he’d been so active for so long that he could just become a Father! Just like that! For a long, terrifying moment, she felt scared of him.

She didn’t know anything about him.

She pushed that thought to the back of her head like it was spoiled milk and quickly turned the screen of her laptop to Gaara, pointing. She began to talk quickly as if she were reciting a script, “W-well, you don’t have to be prepared to d-do anything, Gaara! There’s so m-much more to life than our families. To our lives. I thought we were g-going to try to do this together? Y-you were so excited about this program and––”

“Hinata––”

She ignored him, frantically letting the information burst from her lips without stopping, “you can get scholarships if y-your family won’t support you! I’ve been looking at apartments in Iwa too, and I honestly t-think we could work with a studio if you’re willing to s-sacrifice space. I want to––”

“––Hinata,” Gaara tried again. He was slowly shaking his head, his head of red hair spilling into his eyes as he did so. 

“––tattoo professionally as I start my studies, m-maybe to make some income? I’m g-good at it, though I guess I’m n-not supposed to talk about what I do for the Family. Though y-you already broke that rule tonight, d-didn’t you?” she laughed hysterically, here. “Anyway, I r-really think that if you wanted to do this, to go to college, with me, you could. Y-you don’t have to live the w-way we’ve grown up. Look, I even started the app––”

Gaara slammed her laptop with a thud, and the sound rang out through the cafe. He was glowering at her at this point, his eyes narrow and angry as he looked down at her, “don’t pretend to know how I’ve grown up, Hinata. Don’t pretend to know anything about me at all.”

Hinata flinched as if she had been hit. 

“Do you think I want to do this with my life? Seriously think about it,” Gaara spat at her. He was looking away again, staring across the street. His hands were fisted at his sides. 

Hinata looked down. Her laptop was shut so hard that it opened itself back up slightly from the force. The screen was cracked in the upper-righthand corner. She opened it up to inspect, pointedly ignoring her boyfriend, and touched a piece of the broken glass. A dot of blood appeared on her finger in response and she drew her hand back.

“You can be so fucking naïve sometimes,” he grunted unhappily. They were silent for a few long beats as a waitress served them cups of coffee and asked if they wanted to order anything else. Red in the face, Hinata told her no as Gaara poured packet after packet of sugar into his mug. 

“And y-you can be mean,” Hinata muttered, her eyes downcast. She knew their plans for college were just dreams. She knew, logically, that they would not happen, but she’d wanted to believe that the two of them could share a life outside of family politics. Now, it was all but impossible. 

“I’m sorry,” Gaara said in a low voice. He reached across the table and grabbed both of her hands. Hesitantly, she looked up and into his eyes and saw the true remorse that lived there.  “I’m really, really sorry, Hinata.”

“Do you think...do you think w-we can still be together?” Hinata whispered this, as if she already knew the answer, but wanted to ask it anyway. “With you in charge, m-maybe things can be different?”

He nodded and brought her knuckles to his lips, kissing her hands gently. Hinata placed her hand against his cheek as he said, “Yeah, you’re right. Maybe things can change.”

Then, as if under a spell, both of their phones started vibrating against the table. Gaara answered his quickly, standing from the table, barking: “What Temari?”

On Hinata’s screen, her father’s name appeared. Fear jumped to her throat––he never called her. Had She and Gaara been seen?  

“Where are you?” Hiashi’s voice ran through the line clearly. Hinata watched Gaara walk quickly out of the exit and down the street, stopping just once outside of the record store. He gave her a long piercing look, before turning away to speak into his phone. 

 “I need you to get home right now. I’m sending a car,” Hiashi continued without waiting for her response. As Hiashi continued to talk, she started to realize that she and Gaara would not be returning to their conversation any time soon. Gaara’s uncle was in the hospital, and Hinata’s uncle had been the one to put him there.

-:-

It was strange when Hinata realized that Gaara wasn’t at the official Affair. Stranger even, that the dark-haired man from the laundromat was, and he was sitting in the frontmost position in the room, looking pensive. 

From her spot next to her father’s seat, she’d looked around for Gaara while pretending not to, shielding her eyes when they caught the stare of an Uncle or Family member. The Affairs happened every few weeks––called by the Father when intensive decisions had to be made. They were closed meetings; only elders, Uncles, and higher-ups were allowed to attend. You had to be extremely special to be invited to the Hyuga Estate. 

The meetings took place in the traditional part of the Estate, where wooden floors and paper doors dominated the west wing of the manor. Across the room, elders milled about indulging in the spread of sweet treats that was customary for an affair. Behind them, a paper door was wide open, casting the room alight with the sun’s glow and a sharp breeze from the interior garden. Neji was there in his stark suit and looked ready to close it, but he was waiting for Hiashi to finish his cigar. Hiashi was smoking beside the frozen koi pond, backlit against the setting sun, his features posed in thought and unmoved by the cold. He looked across the way mildly, watching a Hyuga cousin at the opposite door as he collected cellphones in a basket, an automatic rifle strapped to his back.

Hinata felt the breeze on her back and she pulled her shawl tighter around her bare shoulders. She wished she could escape to the east wing, the modern side of the manor where her room was, and trade her strappy dress for a thick wooly sweater, but it was customary to dress up. She, especially, had to look the part. 

Her seat was a little to her father’s left, on a raised platform that sat in front of dozens of cushioned floor placements. Beside her sat an Uncle, usually Inoichi, the closest to him, and then her father sat at the top. Directly to Hiashi’s right was a seat that was symbolically left unfilled, where Hizashi used to sit, and next to that, Neji’s placement. 

Hiashi coughed loudly from the garden, and Hinata turned her head slightly to watch him put the cigar out. He entered slowly through the door, and Neji nudged it closed with a quiet tap. Hinata bowed as he took his seat in the middle, and after her, the rest of the Uncles and higher-ups did too. They took their seats, leaving their plates of sweet desserts to the sides of the room. There was to be no eating or drinking during the actual Affair. 

Which brought Hinata back to the dark-haired man from before, who sat centerfold with a blonde man she’d never seen before. She appraised them both, trying to recall their names, but coming up blank each time. It was strange that these two, whose names she did not even know, appear at the Affair when they were so new. She cocked her head to the side as she watched them idly. 

The dark-haired one looked back, his mouth in a thin, unemotional line. His eyes were like two pieces of coal as they watched her watch him. She was impassive in the face of his gaze because she sat where she felt most powerful. Anywhere else, she’d probably scurry away like a drenched mouse and hide her face. She’d been raised to sit there, whether she liked it or not.

“Welcome, Family,” Hiashi called after everyone had seated. “May our days be blessed with fortune, and our nights be protected and virtuous.”

“God willing,” everyone replied, as was customary. The two new guys remained silent. This was their first Affair. 

Hiashi stood, which was unusual, and walked a few paces so that he was standing next to Neji. Choosing to remain seated beside Hiashi’s standing figure, Neji looked small and boyish as his uncle placed a hand on his shoulder. “Before we start,” Hiashi began. “I would like to make a brief announcement. We buried my brother a few weeks ago, may he rest in peace––”

“––God willing,” everyone called again. Hinata did too, but her voice cracked and she wasn’t sure why. She watched her father and cousin closely. Neji was a mirror of her father because he’d been a mirror of his own. As he aged into his young adulthood, his jaw took on the sharp edge of the Hyuga patriarch. His features were a dangerous mix of delicate and severe. 

“––and this is our first Affair with him in the ground. This seat has been left vacant since his imprisonment because we thought we’d get him back.” Hiashi paused, though Hinata secretly thought it was more for dramatic effect than emotional processing. Still, she cast her eyes to the ground to pay her respects. Her father, to his theatrical credit, took his glass of sake––he was the only one allowed to eat or drink––and cast it towards the ground like an offering. It made a semi-circle around Neji’s seated position.

There was still drink left in the cup. Hiashi held it out to Neji and Hinata felt the breath stall in her throat, looking up quickly to catch the shock on Neji’s face before it flickered away into a hidden place. The new men in the front were forgotten as Neji turned to Hiashi, extending his hand to take the glass. 

“But we are not getting him back,” Hiashi said. “For that reason, I am forced to fill his position––his seat. I extend an invitation to my nephew, son of Hizashi Hyuga, Neji Hyuga. Neji, will you sit with me?”

Everyone was quiet, barely breathing, as they witnessed this rare movement of power. The Hyuga Syndicate was a tight-knit group, but it had little room for upward mobility unless you had proven yourself to be someone phenomenal. Even more, you had to prove yourself to be loyal. You’d have to almost die three times with the Hyuga name sealed up inside of you, in order to do what Neji would do.  

Neji stood, holding the glass tightly in his grip. His face was hard as concrete, serious, and unmoving. “I will.”

“Will you do us the honors of becoming an Uncle? Will you promise to protect and serve the Hyuga with your blood and virtue?”

“I will,” Neji said. “I promise.”

“Then I welcome you to drink,” Hiashi said. “And join me as an advisor during this Affair, and all of the Affairs after.”

Neji kneeled ceremoniously and drank from the cup of sake Hiashi had given him. Hinata watched him silently, as they all did, taking in his serious face, his mournful gaze, and the proud smile that began to work its way across his lips. “I accept this position. May I make the Family proud.”

“God willing!” Everyone cheered, jubilant and energized with the news, throwing their fists into the air. Hinata hoped that her call was the loudest. Embarrassingly, she felt moisture build around her eyes as she watched her cousin ascend the platform to sit next to her father. He crossed his legs when he sat on the cushion, looking quietly proud as he looked out into the small crowd of seated Family, taking in his new position. His eyes passed over each and every person, stopping for a long pause, on the dark-haired man in the middle. 

“Excellent,” Hiashi said, as he too finally took his seat. He held out his cup, and someone quickly rushed to refill it. “Now. On to the next order of business tonight. It might come as a shock to many of you, and I can’t blame you. I was surprised, myself,” he prefaced as he took a drink. His eyes looked curiously mischievous as he looked down at them. “We have an Uchiha among us. One of the last of his kind––and he would like to join our ranks officially. Shall we hear him out?”

Hinata’s head snapped to the dark-haired man as outraged cries filled the room, its tenor echoing noisily against the walls, as the majority-man room loudly disagreed. They were crying things like “traitor! ” and “Uchiha scum! ” Hiashi let them rally as he sat, quietly drinking his alcohol, observing everything.

Finally, an Uncle from the West Port Docks said, “Why would we welcome an Uchiha? Especially one who would seek solace with his own family’s sworn enemy?”

The dark-haired man was looking at her again as he listened to the outrage, his eyes slowly and curiously sliding from her, down the line to Neji, and then back to her again like the gaze of a hungry snake. She felt a sudden heat as he smiled tightly and said, “With all due respect, I have no family. They were all murdered when I was nine. I only want revenge.”

Hinata’s heat turned to chills. 

-:-

Sasuke shouldn’t be surprised, all things considered. It was the Hyuga way to throw him to their dogs, and for all their yapping they were quite a fearsome crowd. 

He felt Naruto––going by Shenji––shift beside him in discomfort. They were in the belly of their beast with no way out, and Sasuke had put them there. At least Naruto had not used his true identity, so once this was over he could escape to a new city and take other missions elsewhere. Sasuke had no such future, and he hadn’t counted on it, either. 

Hiashi did not look moved by Sasuke’s proclamation. If anything, he looked like he expected it. Neji, on the other hand, had shifted with agitation in his sparkling new seat. Sasuke laughed to think Neji was affected by an Uchiha’s sudden presence overshadowing his meager ascension in the Hyuga hierarchy. Sasuke wondered if he remembered him yet.

Another movement caught his eye, too. The woman from the car. Now Sasuke could finally place her as she sat with folded knees on an indigo silk cushion. She’d moved to subtly cover her mouth with her hand in surprise, her shawl falling from her shoulder and landing below her on the hardwood floor with a cloud of sunlit dust. It was such a demure gesture for the daughter of a kingpin, Sasuke almost did not recognize her as such. But now that she sat in front of him with her light eyes blinking rapidly and filling with what looked like a twisted sort of empathy, he knew exactly who she was. 

They’d played together as children once in a very neutral place. The Konoha Science Museum. They’d dipped under the heads of giant plastic tyrannosauruses as their fathers discussed important business on rest benches. Sasuke and Hinata were all chubby fingers and reaching palms inside of the dinosaur park, at barely 9-years-old chattering with each other easily without the knowledge of a war on their shoulders. It had been avoided, that war, after Hiashi and Fugaku put aside their differences while their children played easily. A treaty had been drawn and shaken on. They would still be enemies, yes, but enemies with hard, drawn boundaries. It was the polite thing to do, especially because the Hyuga owed the Uchiha a great deal. 

“I knew who you were when you found Kiba and asked Tsume to vouch for you,” Hiashi said quietly, thoughtfully. “And I wondered what your goal was. I chose to wait and see.”

Sasuke didn’t bother to look surprised––this mission had always been a liability, given his former status within these networks. It seemed to him he was meant to be caught, and ANBU had accounted for his adaptability in the face of danger. Besides, his issue as an agent had always been that he was hard to forget. There was something about his face. 

It’s why he’d always preferred the assassin tract, but repeatedly, he’d been denied. Eventually, he had to just get over it and keep working. 

Kiba had been his and Naruto’s into the Hyugas. He owed a steep favor to someone in ANBU and took Sasuke and Naruto under his wing no question. Idiot’s fate would come to him fast, but it wasn’t any of the Uchiha’s business what happened to him. He shouldn’t have been gambling with operatives, now his life hung in limbo, though he scarcely knew it when he offered the pair to his mother. ANBU don’t make themselves known, even when they need a strong favor––they were convincing and terrifying enough on their own.

 Sasuke inclined his head to where the man was sitting with his mother, Tsume, a higher-up with a tight frown etched across her face. She didn’t look at him at all and she didn’t look pleased. 

“So tell me, Sasuke Uchiha son of Fugaku Uchiha, what is your goal, and why have you come to us?”

Sasuke lifted his head, his eyes meeting with Hiash’s pale ones. “I want to make a name for myself: I want to make a lot of money,” he said. “And like I said; I want revenge. I’m going to find my brother...and kill him.”

He let the words settle into the room. It was so quiet, he could hear Naruto’s breathing beside him, and he hadn’t moved an inch this whole time. 

“And what makes you think we want to help you get those things?” Neji spoke up, perhaps out of turn, because everyone looked at him strangely. Too big for his comfy seat, Sasuke thought mildly, humorously. 

“Because you all want revenge too,” Sasuke said. “And I can help you get it.”

-:-

“That was intense,” Ino muttered quietly. The two of them were leaning against the walls of the interior garden, both bundled in heavy fur coats. They were smoking a blunt Ino had rolled directly after the Affair. With one hand she held a plate of lemon pound cake, in the other the blunt that smoked easily between her long acrylic nails.

“Yeah,” Hinata agreed, pieces of crumbling donut falling out of her mouth as she spoke. The two of them giggled to distract from the stress that usually came after a long meeting, and Hinata wiped her face. She peered through the doors and saw men gathered around the table as Sasuke and Shenji stood back, observing their new operational home. 

When Sasuke delivered insight on the Akatsuki, all bets were off. Everyone wanted blood, and they wanted it fast. Even Neji’s stubborn look slid off his face after the Uchiha relayed the news. He was no outsider to rage, he just hid it better than most. 

So it had been decided: Hiashi would keep the new boys close to him, and they would report directly to him at the Estate. Hinata knew that this meant he did not at all trust them, but they were too valuable to be let loose into the world. A new, intriguing game was leveling out the playing field, and the Hyugas had found their way into the middle of it. They loved every second of it.

They would be seeking out the Akatsuki to avenge Hizashi’s death. An eye for an eye, let the whole world go blind. 

The thought of it rendered her exhausted, and she wished for her bed only a few dozen steps away from the interior garden. But she couldn’t leave yet––it would be considered rude for her to leave while guests were still outfitting the meeting room and gardens, and her father had already disappeared elsewhere for the night. It was up to her and Neji to see their guests safely out of the Estate. 

“They’re kinda hot though,” Ino was saying as she passed Hinata the blunt, a sweet and musky scent entering the air between us. “Like, good eye candy. You’re lucky they’ll be stationed here, eh?”

“I guess,” Hinata said agreeably, just barely catching the end of Ino’s conversation––Ino mostly liked to talk to hear her own voice. Hinata wanted to go inside, but smoking wasn’t allowed in the Affair room, and she really needed to feel calm so that she could entertain conversations with the elders. They, too, liked to talk. Still, she was freezing and her bare legs were exposed to a wind that had just turned sharper; the sun had just dipped past the clouds. “I d-dunno. It’s kinda weird t-they just showed u-up here, right?”

Ino shrugged. “Kiba’s always taking in strays,” she brushed off her coat and told Hinata she could have the rest of the blunt before she passed it to her. “Dogs and people, you know? He’s got a big heart.”

“Sure, sure,” Hinata agreed again, taking the rest of the weed. She was so damn tired she would let Ino say anything at that point, just to end the conversation. “Where a-are you going?”

“Shika’s tonight,” Ino said, pulling a mink head wrap from her large Chanel bag. She fitted it over her straight blonde head, looking like she’d just stepped out of a Russian film. “We’re doing karaoke, wanna come?”

“You know I c-can’t leave,” Hinata said. Not that she’d wanted to, anyway. “Go have f-fun. I’ll see you tomorrow for the initiation?”

“You know I never miss a party,” Ino smiled brilliantly and kissed both of Hinata’s cheeks before she disappeared back through the Affair room. Hinata watched Shikamaru stand from his place on the floor and loop his arm around hers. Together, they collected their phones and disappeared from view. 

Hinata sighed once she was alone, and sat dutifully on the little wooden bench beside the koi pond. Every once in a while, she cast her eye inside of the room to see who had cleared out of the space. Neji was accepting congratulations beside the dessert table, shaking a dozen hands with a broad smile across his face. Hinata would have to congratulate him later, once everyone cleared the room.

Behind her, she heard a wooden door slide open from another room. That was unusual for the west wing. The only other rooms with access to the interior garden were her father’s office, the sauna, and a small empty room for Syndicate guests of honor. Behind her was her father’s office, so she didn’t startle immediately. She simply straightened her back and turned to greet him, saying “Fath––” 

The words died on her tongue as she came face-to-face with Gaara, who apparently had never left. So he hadn’t been invited to the Affair , Hinata thought to herself, curious and alert, but there was still business to attend to. 

Hinata cleared her throat, standing abruptly. Gaara closed the door to the office behind him, and before it shut, she watched her father turn off the lights and walk away. Not seeing his daughter in the garden, he had unknowingly left her alone with the man who’d broken her.

Hinata didn’t want to talk to him, but Gaara grabbed her wrist before she could so much as think to walk away. His green eyes were heavy with something she scarcely recognized, glowing with power as his position as head of Suna became bigger and more great as the years passed. The years had been kind to him: his form filling out so he was not just bones, his jaw sharpening, and his face broadening handsomely. Hinata remembered when he was a stupid teenager, just skin and bones after his Uncle was killed; remembered when he leaned her over his bed with his hands on her neck, pushing her face into the mattress as he demanded some type of respect for a role that had nothing to do with her. 

They’d played that game for a couple of months––him becoming increasingly mean and bitter, and her submitting to his anger as if by hurting her, she could bring back his favorite Uncle. She’d never met Baki, but she knew that Gaara was enamored with him for as long as she knew Gaara. Baki was like a father to him, and because his actual father was mean and terrible, Gaara had needed Baki more than he had needed anyone else. Baki had saved his life.

For four long months, he’d fucked her like he hated her, throwing her around and striking her in the face when he looked down at her, as if he didn’t like what he saw. He'd leave trails of bruises on her skin that she would not notice until morning. He’d see them too, but he never said sorry, he never said anything at all. 

They broke up one night when Gaara’s anger turned Hinata into a fearful ball of tears. He tried to say he was sorry for his yelling, but Hinata could not see past the red in his face and all that she had been doing to get him to love her again. So, as they lay in bed holding each other, she did the only thing she thought she could: she threatened to tell the Hyuga Syndicate everything. Gaara’s face quickly turned to ugly fury, “you’ll start a fucking war.”

“Why would it s-start a war if you’ve done nothing wrong?” Hinata challenged. They were eye to eye and Gaara’s free hand twitched at his side. His left hand was already gripping the back of her head. 

“You’re a fucking bitch,” he growled. He gave a final harsh tug of her hair, retching her violently away from him, and letting her fall back onto the bed as he stood. “A waste of fucking time and space. Get the fuck out! Get the fuck out my house!” He started to throw her clothes at her, her belt buckle hitting her square in the lip and cutting it. She tasted iron as she scrambled up to slide on her panties, leaving her bra which sat in a corner, and sliding her blouse over her shoulders. 

Gaara pushed her out of the room, throwing her backpack at her head. She covered her bleeding mouth with one hand as she rushed down the stairs. He called her a slut over and over again, hurdling words at her back like daggers. She slipped down the stairs in her haste. 

“If I ever fucking see you again, I’ll fucking kill you,” he shut the door on her as she stood on the porch, a mess of blood and tears on her upper lip. Because she loved him, she would take what he’d done to the grave. She didn’t want her father to have him killed. That was her problem, her fatal flaw: her soft heart.

Hinata felt her heart stagger in her chest as she blinked rapidly, taking in her position. Gaara’s hands that had gripped her wrists had loosened and she yanked them out, staggering slightly from the gesture. She looked over her shoulder and into the room, but someone had shut the door, due to the cold she presumed. They stood in a small pool of light that came from a lantern next to the pond but were otherwise in near darkness. Idly, in her panic, Hinata realized that Gaara had been speaking to her: apologizing. 

Hinata registered that she had been saying words back without understanding what was being said, words tumbling out of her like: “Please stop, Gaara. Please leave me alone. Not right now, not here.” A blubbering mess of exhausted panic and push away as she stepped back while he kept moving forward.

The door slid open again, casting the garden in a rectangle of golden light as voices wafted out to greet them, and then closed it again. Unable to move from her stalemate with Gaara, Hinata assumed with anguish that someone had seen them deep in conversation and had chosen to give them privacy. Perhaps, from the gaze of a passive onlooker, their stances in the dim light of the garden could’ve looked intimate.

Hinata tasted sour in the air. Gaara kept speaking, but she wasn’t hearing any of it, her mind replaying images of his bedroom behind her eyelids. She was grateful when a new person’s voice cut the air with its sound, rendering Gaara silent with an almost audacious tone of authority. 

“I think she asked you to leave. Multiple times. As a direct hand of Hyuga Hiashi, I will have no choice but to physically remove you.”

Uchiha Sasuke stood before the both of them, his eyes a startling constellation of provocation. His stance said I’ll fuck you up , his eyes said, I dare you.

Chapter Text

Hinata met Gaara for the first time at a concert when she was 16. She was alone. It was the first time she had ever been to a big show by herself, and she was attempting to manipulate a random man into buying her some “liquid courage”––as Ino called it. 

Unfortunately, Ino had declined the concert invitation, choosing instead to go on a date with a boy who did not care for her––but that was a different story entirely. Hinata was left to toy with her ripped sleeves beside the bar, sending woeful looks at any of-aged-looking man who walked past her. It was useless, though, because she was no Ino.

She was no bombshell blonde who could pass for older with just a blink of her glued-on lashes. At other parties, Hinata would stand to the side, alone for only about three minutes, while Ino walked around the bar like a pacing tiger. She’d always get a bite, and she’d cheerfully carry two or three fruity drinks back to where Hinata was standing by herself. Sometimes Hinata would time her. Ino’s record? 45 seconds.

In any case, every single man ignored her as she pouted and blinked at them in what she thought was an Ino-like way. Looking back on it, it was embarrassing, but she’d only wanted to feel less alone. Even just one drink would be enough to shake the anxiety off of her shoulders to let herself enjoy the night.

 Unfortunately, she faced the stares of pitying older women, as men looked over and through her: her awkward teenage-ness was an indisputable fact. At the time, her hair was growing out of an awkward childhood bob which was still fairly unflattering, and she still held all of her baby fat in her pink cheeks. To combat it, she’d taken to drawing on big, heavy streaks of eyeliner to mimic a cat-eye and grew out her bangs to frame her face. This really only succeeded in making her eyes look larger and her face rounder, but she hadn’t been aware of this mistake until years later. At this point, she was just a kid in a band tee, long-sleeved torn mesh undershirt, and a short and flirty tennis skirt.

That’s not to say that Hinata was not cute, she was very cute––she just could not, by any means, pass for grown . She was about to give up on her search for liquid courage, when she watched a redhead man, who she’d later learn was Gaara, walk up to the bar and casually grab two tall cans of cold beer from the counter. He handed one to her, saying nothing, and walked back into the crowd.

Obviously, she followed him. She wanted to give him her thanks in earnest; otherwise, she’d feel too guilty to move on. “I w-want to pay y-you back!” She yelled to his back as he slipped between bodies in the crowd. He was gunning for the stage, not looking back. “I d-didn’t want it for––for free!” 

Out of breath, Hinata finally caught him as his body angled dangerously and intentionally over the barricade while a security guard pushed him back. His shoulder bumped into her chest and they both stumbled. Gaara finally turned and gave her a blank stare as Hinata repeated, completely red in the face:  “I can p-pay you back.”

It was here where Hinata got her first good look at him, and her breath caught in her throat. He was not that much taller than her, but somehow he seemed to tower over her. His face looked tired but very young at the same time, with dark rings lining his lower lashes, making his skin a startling alabaster. His skin was clear though, and bright as if he were glowing. Even more so, he had these piercing green eyes that looked over her curiously, drinking in her image. She gulped at his gaze, and it was here that Hinata noticed that instead of a pair of red eyebrows to match his shocking hair, he had a tattoo. It said love. 

His face against the overhead lights of the venue spoke of implicit danger that for once in her life, she ignored. 

“F-for the drink,” Hinata insisted, jolting when she realized she’d been staring and gesturing with her arm extended. She awkwardly held up the unopened can of beer so that he could see what she was talking about. “I w-wasn’t looking for a h-handout I’m just um...u-underaged...”

He snorted, surprising her. An amused look fitted his mouth as he turned to face the stage, where the opening act was strumming the first chords of a song. The screams around them started dying with the first notes of music, so he leaned closer to her, their heads almost touching as he said frankly: “I stole those. Don’t even worry about it––shit’s disgusting.”

He wasn’t holding any can, so he must’ve discarded it. He inclined his head, and Hinata opened hers to do her own experimenting under his watchful gaze. She felt hot as she turned the can over in her hands in the muted light of the front stage, trying to ignore the shoulders that began to press on both of them. When the sour liquid touched her tongue, she immediately made a face. She and Ino usually tried to score fruity beverages, wines, or shots they could rush down the throat. Beer was uncharted territory, and now she knew why. 

Still, she pretended she liked it, taking long and enduring gulps and trying not to make a face. The boy watched her curiously, looking as if he didn’t believe the show she was putting on. Somehow, they were shoulder-to-shoulder, their hands gripping the partition between their bodies, the press walk, and the stage. He leaned closer so that she could hear him, his breath warm against her temples. 

“I’m not exactly of age, either. Seriously, don’t worry about it, I’ve stolen better drinks.”

Hinata took a long pause to respond, which she was using to process the fact that she was suddenly, overwhelmingly attracted to him. Between the sip and his admission, she had the tingling realization that he was incredibly hot. He was wearing dark clothes, black pants, and a tight-fitting band-tee that was almost identical to hers. Truthfully, he did look rather tired, but upon further inspection, he’d also lined dark kohl around his eyes. His hair looked like a forest fire with subtle curls taking hold of his roots. More than that, she assumed he was normal, and she liked that about him, this normalcy. 

“Ah,” she said as she made herself drink the rest of the IPA. His eyes were on her as she chugged it, and the crowd squished their bodies even closer together as people tried to make their way closer to the stage. The main act would go on soon. “W-well...t-thanks. My name is Hinata, what’s y-yours?”

-:-

As you have probably surmised by now, that normalcy was a lie. Hinata found this out later, one night during the very beginning of their relationship, after the two of them kissed for the second or third time, their greasy fingers on each other’s skin, pulling their bodies close together with a want so strong it almost seemed completely foreign to their bodies. Still, they welcomed the feeling like it was an estranged family member who just needed a place to rest their feet. They’d both been raised that way, after all. 

They had just pulled over after picking up food from a drive-thru. Before that, they had attempted to see a movie, but they had quickly grown bored with the plot and left with the idea of marijuana and junk food on their brains. Of course, they had more on their brains than just those things, but they were too nervous to admit that their bodies were full of a specific sort of tension whenever they looked at each other. The darkness of the movie theater became a question of their positions, and if they were sitting too close, and...could they get closer?

So they kissed in Gaara’s car, which was a really cool vintage convertible situation that Hinata didn’t care enough to ask the name of. They kissed for a long time and were starting to enjoy getting to know each other’s bodies. After a few minutes had passed of just their mouths moving together in a slow dance, Gaara began to reach over to Hinata’s side of the car to pull her closer. She was enthusiastic, pleased, and nervous––so nervous that she accidentally knocked over a styrofoam cup full of soda while she was grabbing for the corner of his shirt. 

He was more than nice about it, he hadn’t even jumped in surprise. Gaara said it was fine and directed her to the napkins in the glove compartment. She was red and sick to her stomach, having spilled cold cola all over his crotch. When she reached inside to pull out a stack of napkins, a golden medallion engraved with the shape of a gourd fell to the ground with a heavy thud. Hinata registered the symbol almost immediately and quickly looked at him, her eyes as wide as saucers.

All ideas of normalcy had gone out the window.

Gaara was no idiot, and neither was she. He punched the button on his steering wheel to stop the radio. She put her hand on the handle of the door. Gaara grabbed her other wrist quickly, tightly, and she felt her bones rock against his grip. “You shouldn’t know what that means,” he said about the medallion. His voice was more a question than a threat. “Tell me how you know.”

Hinata gulped. His grip on her wrist tightened. Neji had her location on his phone. In her contacts, there were a dozen people she could call, mutter one singular word to, and have them come find her faster than Gaara could get away. Inside her boots, she’d hidden knives. Her pulse quickened as she thought of possible escape routes. The roof was down, so she could jump up and run down the road. He wasn’t letting go, but she had a free hand, so she could grab the knife and––

“Hinata,” Gaara said. He sounded desperate this time, his tone mournful and he wasn’t breaking eye contact. Hinata could see how fast his heart must’ve been beating with how quickly his breath was coming to and from him. “I need to know. Please.”

Hinata took a long time to answer. She was quickly recalling everything she had ever been taught about the Suna Syndicate.

Suna: A large south-side clan, composed of the country's best extortionists and fighters. Weapons were their specialty, but they trafficked a little of everything. They had about two-thousand members across the globe. Their headquarters were located in the south Konoha neighborhood of Hibiya, making their presence a point of contention among the Hyugas; however, they also had a hub of desert-based operations that made them true heavy-hitters. The Suna and the Hyuga had a long history that was not without violence, but they had settled on a treaty to keep them both in check almost fifty years ago. Currently, a disturbance between these two superpowers could cause a big enough disruption to the international crime sphere to knock the black market off its feet and crash entirely, so they chose to become long-term allies. 

That didn’t mean that a Hyuga heir and a Suna prodigy’s relationship would be possible. It would be disastrous, any way you spun it. So much power required careful and constructed rules and boundaries. This union would violate every single one. 

  She swallowed her thumb poised over her emergency contact as she said, “My n-name is Hyuga Hinata. My father--my biological father--is Hiashi.”

Gaara stared at her with no reaction. Then he dropped his head into his hands and whispered, “oh fuck.”

-:-

“Why do they have this?” Naruto asked under his breath, picking through an enchanting if not overbearing display of various desserts and treats. “This is enough to feed a goddamn village!”

Sasuke didn’t respond, erring on the side of grace in the face of his new position in the Hyuga Syndicate. It was about twenty minutes after the Affair, and the room was still busy with members as they chatted energetically and congregated around Neji to congratulate him on his new role. For the most part, they avoided Sasuke, looking at him with poorly-hidden scorn as they navigated in wide circles around his body as if he had plague. 

That meant that they had common sense. Sasuke didn’t feel bothered about it––if anything, it made him feel more confident in Hiashi and the people he surrounded himself with. When he would undoubtedly be given a mission, he knew he would be surrounded by a group of thoughtful and intentional people. Except for Inuzuka Kiba, the poor idiot walking up to them with two glasses of shining, dark liquor, he thought they were all sharp people. 

Kiba was scratching the triangular tattoos on his cheeks, a designation Sasuke figured belonged to a specific subset of Syndicate members. Tsume, his mother, and Hana, his sister, had matching ones. He filed this information away for later as Kiba handed them the drinks, saying: “You could’ve told me you were Sasuke fucking Uchiha, you know.”

Naruto outright laughed, Sasuke rolled his eyes. He was already bored of the Inuzuka’s simple thought process, his weaknesses showing more and more clearly the longer he spoke to them. 

“And why would I have told you that?” Sasuke drawled, looking over at him. Kiba wore dark slacks, a navy hoodie, and a blazer over it. It seemed that he didn’t care very much for decorum. “If I were in your position and you were me, I would’ve killed you for sport.”

Naruto nudged him hard in the side but Sasuke didn’t care, he already had Hiashi’s attention. And why wouldn't he? Before this point, it had only been rumored that there were any Uchiha left, and now one of them knocks on a Hyua’s door with evidence that a second one exists. Even better, it just so happened that the second one was a part of the gang that killed one of their own. Sasuke had made it so that they needed him, and all he’d asked for was clemency. 

Kiba was stuttering out something drunk and unimportant, combating Sasuke’s response with something like “Nah man, you don’t even know me. I’m cool, I’m cool I would never kill you dude,” and had already lost Sasuke’s attention. 

Instead, his focus was drawn to the interior garden. Someone was complaining about the cold, so they were sliding the door closed. In the split second between its closure and Sasuke’s attention, he saw Hyuga Hinata standing in the frigid cold, her mouth in a thin line as none other than Suna Gaara held her wrists in his grasp. Now this is curious , he thought, as alarm bells rang off inside his head. The Suna leader hadn’t even been at the Affair––why should he be hounding the Hyuga princess?

The door gently slid closed. Naruto caught Sasuke’s keen gaze as the garden went out of view. As Kiba continued to chatter, Naruto elbowed Sasuke again, saying: “dude, whatever it is, let it go.”

Of course, Sasuke ignored him, slipping out of the room like a quiet wind. The door barely made a sound as he closed it. In front of him, Hinata was weeping silently, asking Gaara to leave, as he took angry strides in front of her, saying over and over, I’m sorry Hinata . How the fuck else can I prove to you how sorry I am?

Hinata was asking Gaara repeatedly to leave her alone. In the time since he’d seen her in her seat, she’d acquired a heavy fur coat that fell to her calves. Between her fingers was an extinguished blunt. Her face looked pink and delicately made in the lowlight of the lone lantern, and the light cast the shadow of her long eyelashes across her cheeks. 

Protecting his daughter would put Sasuke in a good position with Hiashi, and Sasuke needed to build trust as quickly as possible. He’d start with the princess. 

When he stepped up, Hinata’s eyes shined with relief so great, that he felt angry. Something terrible must’ve happened between the two of them, and Suna Gaara was not to be trusted. Not that he ever had been. The Uchihas may have hated the Hyugas, but they hated the Sunas more. They’d never even attempted peace––they simply dealt with them when they needed to be dealt with. A lot of those situations ended with blood. 

He stepped between them, his dark gaze on Gaara. “I think she asked you to leave,” Sasuke said, his voice low.  “Multiple times. As a direct hand of Hyuga Hiashi, I will have no choice but to physically remove you.”

Gaara snapped his head to look at him, his eyes glowing against the light like he was some sort of lizard. Idly, Sasuke wondered if he had talons too, as Gaara made a big show of widening his shoulders and lifting his chin. When he opened his mouth, a couple of shiny teeth were revealed. He was showing off the fact that he’d lost teeth somehow, and had enough money to replace them with solid gold. If Gaara had been allowed to have a gun in here, Sasuke imagined that that gesture was the same as pulling out his weapon. 

The Uchiha didn’t feel bothered. Even when Gaara said, “I don’t think you know who you’re talking to. Since you seem to have just gotten here, I'll let it slide. Go inside, this isn’t your business.” He turned his back on him. If Sasuke was another man...

“No,” Hinata said, startling them both. “He’s...he’s right. I asked you to leave. G-Gaara, this is Hyuga property. Y-you have a lot of n-nerve approaching m-me like this.”

Sasuke raised an eyebrow at this casual display of timid power. He should’ve known that the Hyuga heir was no stranger to authority, and it seemed that Sasuke's presence helped her unearth some confidence. Her expression was closed as she looked at Gaara, her mouth an unwavering fine line. 

She spoke quietly to Gaara, “I d-didn’t tell my father the first time because....whatever. But there will always be an opportunity. P-please see y-your way out,” then, she turned her amethyst gaze to Sasuke, appearing as if she were looking through him and into the rooms of the estate. She was like an unblinking, pink, ghost in the garden. She fumbled, for a moment, with a lighter and relit the blunt between her fingers as if she was trying to take the attention from her strained expression to her fluttering hands. It worked, and Sasuke watched as she gestured, saying:  “Uchiha-san, can you make sure he finds the door?”

Ah, an order. That was unexpected. Apparently, it was a surprise to Gaara too, who snapped his head to look at her with a violent, hateful expression on his face that caught even Sasuke off guard. But when Gaara saw the stubborn fix of Hinata’s lips, he said nothing and simply turned to walk out of the garden. 

Sasuke followed him out. Honestly speaking, he did not yet know his way around the Estate, so when he and Gaara exited the Affair room, he asked a lower clan member to take Gaara the rest of the way. Sasuke stood in the doorway and watched until their backs disappeared from view.

Then, he reflected on the quiet power of a woman scorned. Hyuga Hinata might make things interesting here. From his position at the interior doorway, he watched her enter the Affair room with a polite smile on her lips as if nothing had happened. She immediately was swept into a conversation with an Elder, which she appeared to be enjoying. As she turned, Sasuke saw patches of red climb the skin of the back of her long neck––the only evidence of her exertion at the moment. When the Elder moved on and Hinata caught him looking at her, she gave him a slow, hesitant smile that didn’t show her teeth or reach her eyes. 

And yet, Sasuke almost believed it. She would make an excellent spy.

-:-

Hinata slept soundly through the night without any disturbances or even any dreams. She was grateful for it. Even more so, grateful for the liquor she’d consumed with Neji and Tenten after everyone finally left. They sat by the fire pit, drinking entire bottles as they picked through the desserts that remained. Hinata warmed her hands near the flames, chewing on the last slice of apple pie.

“Suna Gaara was here,” she had spoken quietly with a neutral tone, testing the waters. Tenten and Neji didn’t know anything about her and Gaara’s relationship––very few did. And she wanted to keep it that way. Still, she needed to know why he was at the Estate with her father.

“Yeah,” Neji responded casually, his words slurring a little from the abundance of celebratory alcohol. Drunkenness to the point of slurring was unusual for him, and Hinata reminded herself to let him enjoy it. “Suna’s got the same beef with Akatsuki as we do. They’re tryin’ to do somethin’ about it. Lucky, I guess, Uchiha showed up.”

“W-why didn’t he just come to the Affair?” She’d egged on, despite her want for one night free of politics. After this, no more questions, for real this time. 

“You want Suna knowing our secrets? They’re allies, not blood.”

Hinata only hummed in response. Non-Hyuga members had come to Affairs before, and a Suna would not be so unusual, especially when an Uchiha’s dark gaze eclipsed the room in hunger. Hinata could tell that he was hungry--and that hunger scared her.

Maybe because in some ways, she was often hungry, too.

In any case, she went to sleep drunk and woke up with a clear mind. Her body was tired but that didn’t matter because she had a full day ahead of her. The initiation. 

Her room had a balcony facing the driveway and she stepped out briefly to watch black cars begin to pull in to park. Servants were carrying baskets of flowers off the bed of a dusty green pick-up truck from Yamanaka Flowers, and groundskeepers were clearing the stairs of the snow that had fallen sometime between Hinata’s sleep and her wake. Initiations at this level were always a big deal. For stoic Hyugas, they liked to show out.

Hinata imagined that acquiring one of the last Uchihas was a cause for loud celebration. She pictured the hard jaw, soft-featured Uchiha who had wandered into the interior garden to help her, kneeling in front of her Father, being asked to forget the names of his ancestors. 

Hinata went back inside, her arms red from the cold. It seemed like no one cared to speak of the Uchiha’s dark childhood, though he practically paraded it in their faces like a badge of honor. What was he doing here? This hurting man. 

Causing trouble , she thought mildly. It was what men did: they caused problems. That was one philosophy Aoki specifically parroted as she braided Hinata’s hair or instructed her baking. Aoki always tried to do normal things with Hinata, like taking her to museums or signing her up for dance classes. Hinata would never be a man, of course, but even she had the potential to start something she couldn’t finish. Aoki made sure she knew that.

Maybe if Aoki hadn’t killed herself before Hinata’s first big relationship, it wouldn’t have wound up the way it did. But how could Hinata blame her, when more problems––caused by men––had led Aoki to a bathroom medicine cabinet?

“ Ah, ” Hinata sighed, pressing her cold fingertips to her temples. Flashes of images––the clawfoot tub in her parent’s bathroom, the pool of yellow pills, her mother’s long red fingernails––crowded her mind in a violent rotation. She shook her head hard. Drank water from her glass on the bedside table. Sat on the edge of her sprawling canopy bed.

Her phone beeped. It was noon already, and she was running late. Quickly, Hinata dressed in slim black jeans, and a wooly cream-colored crewneck sweater that was a bit too cropped for her liking. She tucked her feet into warm socks and bunny slippers, and noticed then, that her hands were shaking. 

Well, there were a number of reasons why that would become an issue. On her way to the studio, she stopped at the kitchen. Hanabi was standing there, staring out the back window at the lawn where a big white tent was going up. More workers were there, waiting to line the tent with tall heaters. 

“Bit excessive,” Hanabi commented snidely. She was still in her sleepwear of short shorts and a large T-shirt, though she looked better rested than Hinata. She was pensively eating a bowl of fruit. 

“I agree,” Hinata said in a rushed way as she grabbed an orange juice and leftover turkey sandwich from the fridge. Through the window, she glimpsed men stringing lights and carrying tables. No one else did initiations like them. Most syndicates chose bars, hotel rooms, or strip clubs––maybe they’d even go abroad. But no, Hyuga did things in a more closed circle. An invitation to celebrate at the Estate was worth a lot of money.

She left the kitchen quietly, trodding down the hallways while eating, trying to get the shaking to leave her body. She was about a quarter-way through her food when she reached the North wing of the Estate, and with her free hand she yanked her keys free from her jeans to unlock the door to the studio.

And bumped right into Uchiha Sasuke, who looked over her with coy, sleek eyes. He stood against the wall next to the double-glass doors, whose interior curtains hid the inside of the room from view. His eyebrow quirked up almost immediately as Hinata began to turn pink. 

“This is your job?” He asked, his voice mild, but still Hinata tasted the hints of his disbelief in the air. 

She wasn’t surprised at the question, and when she replied it was with patience: “Why w-wouldn’t it be?”

Sasuke shrugged, he didn’t have an answer. “Well. You’re late.”

Hinata struggled to keep her expression neutral as she finished unlocking the door. Well, that was rude. Late to her own home? Mentally, she scoffed at his audacity, cataloging the coy expression on his face as he walked through the double doors casually. 

  The studio wasn’t as big as the double doors suggested and looked more like a small closet or deep pantry. Hinata kept the doors open to make it seem more spacious, then she opened the curtains of the small window that looked out at the garden where the dry leaves of hibernating plants tapped against the windows. She allowed herself to wish for spring as she busied herself with setting up materials. Her hands had stopped shaking and she was glad for it.

“Y-you can sit there,” she pointed to a pale green Scandinavian chair with birch legs. He sat, looking like a plot of ink against the cream-colored walls and light tones. Hinata had designed the studio herself, choosing bright art, hanging plants, and minimalist furniture to decorate the space. Most people were surprised when they first walked in. 

She could feel Sasuke’s gaze on her as she worked, opening drawers and placing witch hazel, razors, and needles onto her work table. While she fiddled with her printer and looked for her scissors, his voice sliced through the silence .

“What do you think of me joining your Syndicate?”

Hinata found the scissors and cut through the transfer paper with precise hands. She found the question funny, and even laughed a bit. She turned around and held it up so that he could see it: the caged bird seal of the Hyuga. “I d-don’t think it matters what I think.”

The seal had a long history within their clan, leading back to when their ancestors were ninja who aided the imperial court, their espionage a subtle brush of wind in the quiet of the night. Now, every new high-level initiate was to receive this tattoo as a symbol of their life-long loyalty to the clan. Hinata had been trained to give tattoos at a young age, starting with a single needle handpoke while her uncle oversaw the gentle pokes into the flesh of her arm. She’d given herself her own seal. Then, she gave one to Neji. She was 12 years old when she first used a machine.

“Why not?” The Uchiha said slyly, his eyebrows lifted. “Are you not the Hyuga princess?”

“I-I’m no princess,” Hinata placed the stencil flat on the massage table. She patted the space beside it, and Sasuke slowly moved to sit. “I’m just the d-daughter of a powerful man. Where do you want this?”

“I have a choice?” 

“O-of course,” Hinata wanted to roll her eyes, but didn’t. She cast her eyes shyly to the side as he lifted his shirt over his head, exposing hardened and scarred skin, rippling muscles. 

He pointed to a spot on his back, right where the collar of his shirt would rest below his neck. “There,” he said quietly

His face had become devoid of emotion, a far-away look in his eye as if he had suddenly been overcome by memory. Hinata gave him his privacy and moved to his back. She placed the cool binding agent to his skin and ignored the shiver that went through his arms. Gently, Hinata placed the purple stencil against his skin. His back was remarkably soft, unlike the rest of him.

She told him to look in the mirror to make sure it looked right to him. When he said it was fine, she instructed him to lay on his stomach. She started the tattoo into the silence. 

Hinata did tattoos for everyone in the Syndicate––whatever designs they wanted, for fun––but initiation tattoos were different. She wasn’t allowed to play any music. Only their speaking voices were allowed.

She stretched the skin of his back and let the machine pack the customary green ink into his body. The Uchiha was relaxed now and the pain didn’t seem to be affecting him. Hinata wondered if he had any other tattoos as she pulled a long, straight line atop the nudge of his spine.

She worked with her hair pulled back from her face in a low bun, standing with her upper body posed precariously over his body, both hands working the skin of his back. He turned his head to the side, surprising her as his eyes met hers with an intensity that alarmed her. They were dark embers, encompassing, and they seemed to lure her in.

She pulled away and refilled the needle with ink, taking a necessary deep breath. For some reason, this session had taken all of the air from the room, leaving her with none. Most sessions went quickly, perfunctory. This wasn’t like that.

“You haven't answered my question,” Sasuke said. Hinata was posed over him again, and she realized, idly, how vulnerable of a position he had put himself in by choosing this placement.

She began another long line with the machine in her right hand, stretching the skin with her left index finger and thumb. She concentrated, grateful that the man could not see the concerned set of her face. Should she be honest?

What did he want from her?

“I think...” she said, not taking her eye off of the line and how his skin was taking the ink like soil to water. He had good skin for tattooing. “...t-that these are dangerous times and there are dangerous m-men playing dangerous games.”

“Hm,” he hummed with the sound of the coil machine. It was loud and easily filled the silence of his pause. When Hinata looked at him, his eyes were closed. “And do you think I am a dangerous man, princess?”

Hinata tried not to dig the needle into his skin at the nickname, holding the machine tight and steady in her grip. She could easily scar him for it or make him bleed, but she was better than that. No one had ever equated her position to such a frilly title. Besides, she preferred to be no one at all.

“I d-don’t know what sort of man you are, Uchiha Sasuke,” Hinata said quietly.

Chapter Text

Sasuke’s back burned as if his skin was trying to reject the tattoo. 

He resisted the urge to scratch the itch or to dig his nails into his skin. He resisted the urge to think of his family, his mother and father, and brother. In the back of his head, he watched their faces twist with disgust as he allowed the ink to settle in his skin.

The tattoo hadn’t hurt too bad. Burdened with a tattoo machine, the Hyuga princess was gentle and quick with her work, finishing the piece in only 25 minutes. She patched him up quickly with a piece of saran wrap and tape, and instructed him on how to care for it in that low, almost meek, tone of hers. 

Naruto stood at the door, waiting for his turn. He hadn’t yet become the boisterous, friendly character Sasuke knew he had the potential to be. It was too soon for that. They still had to figure out the politics of the place. 

Sasuke knew that his last name had given him an elevated status within the Syndicate and that his ascension, and in turn Naruto’s, was incredibly unusual. He knew that because Hiashi had said it himself, but also because other Syndicate members had been giving him snide looks all day: looking as if they wanted to fight, but could not. 

He also knew that there would be a great party in the yards and throughout the Estate in his honor. Hiashi was showing off, had to be, and on purpose. He was showing the world that he had the last Uchiha under his thumb––and he was warning Sasuke, threatening him, now that the whole world knew it. 

He was making it so that Sasuke could never betray him and live. Sasuke was sure that the news would reach every corner of Konoha, every alley, every pool lounge, every bar. The people who needed to know would know. He was making Sasuke a spectacle, belittling him, and calling him his bitch. 

After Hinata sat Naruto in the chair, she told Sasuke that he was free to roam the gardens or grab something to eat from the kitchens until the Initiation started. Sasuke dipped out of the room like a shadow and walked slowly around the Estate, memorizing every step, dent in the wall, and exit.

It was certainly an Estate: three floors tall and three wings wide, it was one of the central holdings of the Syndicate. It was every bit as luxurious as you could imagine––floor-length windows that showed picturesque gardens, even in winter, a pool and firepit entertainment area, two kitchens, multiple bathrooms, and various sprawling empty rooms. 

Sasuke ventured as far as the east wing before anyone spoke to him. The switch to a traditional style of interior design was more subtle than abrupt, the doors turning to paper as if they were natural. This side of the Estate was much quieter, with fewer servants moving around. It seemed that no one came to this wing without reason. 

He passed what he remembered was the Affair room and continued on. This wing, he knew, was looped around a large plot of garden, with all the inner doors looking into the other. Casually, he turned the sharp corner to see what the rest of the rooms looked like. 

And ran right into Hiashi Hyuga’s office. He had the paper doors open, both inner and out, and a sharp breeze came in from the garden. Incense waned in the air as Hiashi sat at his desk––a beacon of technology in the middle of a traditional tea room. When Hiashi saw him, he didn’t look surprised. He waved him inside. 

“Sit,” the older man said. His hair was in a low ponytail at his back. Between his fingers was a cigar, which he extinguished as Sasuke stepped across the threshold. 

Sasuke bowed low, keeping his expression neutral as he did a quick scan of the room. A sliding paper door, so it could not be locked. But surely Hiashi was not stupid enough to leave his office open when so many worked and visited the Estate?

Sasuke sat in a leather chair in front of the desk, looking straight into the Hyuga’s face as he said, “My apologies. I thought I’d familiarize myself with the Estate since I’ll be working here. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“Hm,” Hiashi said. He didn’t make any sort of expression. “You did not interrupt. It’s your day, after all.”

Sasuke bowed his head again, saying nothing. 

He made mental notes of other things. A locked laptop on the desk. A safe. A closet that looked out of place. A camera––no, three cameras, all red-lighted and blinking. 

Hiashi moved slowly as if relishing in every movement he made, as he reached for his crystal glass of dark liquor. He made a big show by setting a glass in front of Sasuke, and pouring him his share. He stared at him hard as he handed it to him, not bothering to speak until Sasuke accepted it.

“Do you know why the Uchiha and the Hyuga have fought for so long?”

The question startled Sasuke, but of course, he did not show it. The truth was, he didn’t know. The Uchiha Clan did not care to talk about the history of rivalries, they just cared to win. To come out on top. The Hyugas would always be their enemies simply because they were Hyuga. 

“No, sir, I don’t.”

Hiashi hummed again. He gestured to Sasuke’s glass with his own, and Sasuke took the cue. It was respectful to drink together, after all. 

“Well, it goes back to the Age of the Shinobi. The story, I imagine, is controversial. If you had a father to ask, I’m sure he’d tell you something different.”

Sasuke didn’t let his grimace show, this quiet punch to the gut. He kept looking at Hiashi, his eyes stony mirrors. Whatever look Hiashi gave him, he would reflect. 

“But you were raised in a Syndicate, and so you know how these things go. Don’t you, Sasuke?”

Sasuke kept his gaze steady, hot furry beginning to build in his throat. He heard the gunshots ring across the field as his foot connected with a soccer ball. Itachi wrapped his arms around his middle as he dived, their bodies colliding with dirt. Hizashi Hyuga, walking out of the compound with young Neji at his side, flickered through his memory like flame. 

He took a drink, letting the liquid be the fire down his throat instead of his words. His gaze was neutral, he said, “Yes, sir.”

Hiashi nodded, satisfied. He continued his story, leaning back in his chair, exposing his throat and chest, unafraid. Sasuke thought of all the ways he could kill him in that position, assassinate him, with the glass cup cold in his palm. His new tattoo burned like it did not belong there.

“During the Age of the Shinobi, the Uchiha and the Hyuga were some of the most important clans. They both had genetic gifts, which made them better at espionage. For a period of time, they worked for the same Noble: the Hokage and Lord of the land. 

One day the Hokage sent the most powerful of both clans on separate missions, at the same time. They were both to kill a group of mercenaries, who had put a price on the Hokage’s head. The Hyuga shinobi completed the mission quickly and quietly, returning with the head of the target. Nothing more, nothing less. The Uchiha returned much later, with three.”

Sasuke felt his jaw begin to tick, and he willed himself to relax. He took another sip.

“The Hokage was horrified that the Uchiha had disobeyed his order, taking more than was asked, and for what? Glory? Pride? Worse, even the Uchiha had taken the head of a spy that he was meant to rendezvous with. In his bag, he carried the head of a lowly Hyuga, whom the Hokage had stationed with the mercenaries for months. 

The Hyuga were rightfully furious, the Hokage, embarrassed, but the Uchiha did not seem to care. They defended their young. They told the Hokage ‘The Hyuga was nothing but a traitor! Our boy got rid of an extra problem!’ They could not know how wrong they were, you understand?”

Sasuke realized that Hiashi was waiting for a response. He said, “I do.”

“But the Hokage had asked for one thing. One task and the Uchiha had gone and done more. Because of this error, the imperial court was becoming undone. The Hyuga wanted revenge, and the Uchiha refused to atone for what they had done. The Hokage refused to be a part of the scandal, having already punished the Uchihas in his own way. So, the Hyugas took matters into their own hands, starting the first Great Shinobi War.”

Sasuke said nothing. 

“So that we are clear,” Hiashi said, as he re-lit his cigar. Smoke curled around the two of them, covering their serious faces in fragrant clouds. “The error was that the Uchihas did more than were asked and ruined relationships, undid cities, and cast the imperial court in flames because of their pride. Hyuga––we don’t do things for pride, we don’t need to. We only do what is needed.”

“I understand, Hyuga-sama,” Sasuke said gravely, his face a mask, his fists knotted at his side in tight fury. “I will know my place here.”

“Good,” Hiashi said. He blew out smoke and stood to his full height, looking down at Sasuke whose face was a catalog of calm. “I’m glad we are on the same page. I’ll see you at your Initiation.”

Dismissed, Sasuke exited the office, exited the wing, exited the building. He walked outside and stared into the tree line that sat yards away, near the edge of the Estate. He bit hard into his hand so that he would not yell. This would be the only sign of his distress, his anger. There was no room for more than that. 

Besides, there was a mission to focus on. 

-:-

After tattooing, Hinata’s muscles always felt tight, no matter the length of time she did it. When she was finished with Shenji, she went back into her room and changed clothes for the Initiation, shedding her sweater like it was a second skin.

Her knuckles were red. Sasuke’s session had been needlessly intense, but Shenji’s had been easy, like bringing an animal to water. She liked the bright-eyed blonde who seemed to laugh easily, joyously. She wondered why he and Sasuke had come to the Hyugas together. 

Some sort of bond , she mused. Shenji had gotten his tattoo on his arm, so Hinata had more time to look into his face when he wasn’t paying attention. At certain periods, stretches where the silence was due to concentration, Shenji had a reserved, sad look in his eye. 

Hinata asked about his family, lightly drilling a green line into his arm. He said he didn’t have one. Ah , Hinata thought. An orphan bond.

She felt a little bad about thinking it, but the circumstances were just so weird. Musing over the two tattoos and how different the two men were, she got dressed for the second time that day. She chose, again, a black dress, this one was longer and suede, down to her ankles, with off-the-shoulder sleeves. 

She met Hanabi in the hallway. Initiations were the only syndicate-related meeting she was allowed to go to, and for good reason. Hanabi needed to know who was coming in, and coming out of the Estate. She needed to know who her father’s most trusted men were. 

She wore a green babydoll dress with a square neckline and puffy sleeves. Always a drama queen , Hinata mused. She suggested Hanabi wear a sweater because the Affair room was always drafty, but Hanabi ignored her.

“I heard the new hires are cute,” she said, and the sisters walked down the stairs, arm-in-arm.

“Where’d y-you hear that from?” Hinata intoned dryly, already knowing the answer. Ino, of course.

“Ino,” Hanabi confirmed. “She tells me more than you do.”

“They’re m-much older than you so I didn’t think it mattered how a-attractive they are,” Hinata said instead. With her free hand, she held her dress up as they walked to the west wing, careful not to let the suede attract dust. 

“So...you agree,” Hanabi said in a conspiratorial tone, “they’re attractive?”

Hinata flushed and let Hanabi’s question meet the silent sweep of her hair as she took it out of its coiled bun she had been wearing for the better part of the day. The result was what mattered––gentle, dark waves cascading around her shoulders. She allowed herself, just for a moment, the image of Sasuke’s back and how his muscles moved when he took off his shirt. The soft skin of Shenji’s arm as she wrapped the bandages around it. The quiet mystery that settled around both of their shoulders, the Uchiha more illustrious than the other man.

Hanabi took Hinata’s blushing face as a yes. Hinata buried the feelings deep inside of herself, because she couldn’t afford to want anything more than she already had. She wanted her basic needs met, that was it that was all. Seeing Gaara yesterday had shaken her to her core, and though she hadn’t dreamed of him like she thought she would, all day she remembered his touch in flashes. Sometimes the memories were good, like him pressing a daisy into her nose, and laughing. And sometimes they were horrifying. 

Hanabi slid open the Affair door with glee, practically leaping over the threshold. Hinata took a more measured approach, stepping casually onto the tatami floor mats and taking in the space. A half-full room. Neji and Tenten were seated up front, Ino and Shikamaru standing beside the door leading to the garden. Shenji and Sasuke sat in suits, in front of Hiashi’s navy cushion, with their legs crossed. 

Their expressions were of rose-colored calm. They looked like they were meditating.

For initiations, Hinata sat with everyone else in the audience, and she took her seat quietly between Kiba and Hanabi, carefully folding her dress around her. Kiba greeted her with a hug, his expression sour as he looked at the initiates. Hinata poked him, raising an eyebrow in question. 

Kiba simply shook his head. Today he wore a proper suit and tie. Perhaps Tsume had hounded him for his last Affair’s clothing. Hinata could not say she blamed the mother. 

“Y-you don’t like them?” Hinata asked, whispering. “I-I thought you b-brought them in.”

Hana sat down beside her brother with a burst of disgruntled air. She crossed her legs––she was wearing a pantsuit of sorts––and frowned at the Hyuga. Her cheek tattoo that Hizashi had done years before he died looked red and angry against her skin today. “Of course, we don’t like them!” She exclaimed. She slapped her hand hard across the back of Kiba’s head and he jerked forward, holding the back of his skull. His hair had flattened. 

“Damn Hana, I get it,” he whined, turning a bit red as people turned around to look at the noise. 

Hana crossed her arms, huffing, and leaned over Kiba to whisper to Hinata: “What? I mean, do you trust those guys? Especially that Uchiha! I almost shit myself after mom told me she was asking for clemency on Kiba’s behalf. I mean––” she looked like she was about to hit him again, but changed her mind. “––what the fuck?”

Hinata leaned towards her in a conspiratory way, looking up at Kiba with comically-large eyes, “I m-mean, Kiba, w-why did you vouch for t-them?”

Everyone was curious, but Hinata was as close to the source as she thought she would get. If anyone could get something out of Kiba, it was her. This information felt precious and important to know. But instead of succumbing to Hinata’s wide eyes, Kiba looked away, a twist to his lips. He was being stubborn, and Hinata’s subtle charm would not work here.

She pulled away as Tsume took her seat beside Hana, completing their row. Her lips were twisted in a thin line and frown lines rose into her forehead, joining the brown hairs at her hairline.

Hinata folded this interaction away for later as her father stepped up and welcomed everyone to the Estate. He thanked Hinata for giving the ceremonial tattoos, said a few words about the history of the Syndicate and its place in Shinobi history, and began the drinking ritual. 

Neji poured Sake into four cups as he stood proudly beside Hiashi, his movements deft and calculated as he handled the small porcelin cups. The audience watched with an almost indifferent reverence until the room shifted as their eyes fell on the Inuzukas. 

 Quietly, Tsume rose from her spot to join Hiashi centerfold. Kiba made no movement as everyone processed this new information. Neji gave her two cups. 

“Tsume, because you vouched on behalf of your son, Shenji will be your charge. He will report directly to you.”

“Yes, Father,” Tsume bowed deeply, her eyes steel and serious. She stood tall and unwavering in her dark gray tunic dress and long-sleeved knit sweater. Her face was a constellation of duty. Hinata looked quickly at Shenji, who still hadn’t moved an inch. 

“Uchiha Sasuke will report directly to me and no one else,” Hiashi said. Nobody said anything, but no one moved, either. It was rare that anyone under an Uncle or Aunt’s status would report directly to Hiashi. Extremely rare. It never happened. 

That honor was only given to his own blood, his own children, and nephew. The fact that an Uchiha would join this caste left a bad taste in Hinata’s mouth. Hiashi did not trust this boy at all. No one did. So why should he be allowed to be here at all?

Revenge was always the answer. Hinata bit her lip and tasted the blood. When Hizashi died and they went to collect his body from the prison, they saw his face was bulbous; undone. When her mother was quietly dressed before her cremation, her face had been at peace, so no one thought to avenge her. But Karma was a God Hinata bowed to. She left fruits on Karma’s altar. Her hands fisted at her sides as Hiashi handed Sasuke a cup. 

They drank in unison. Tsume and Shenji were a mirrored action that Hinata ignored. She watched the Uchiha’s Adam's apple move as he drank the liquor. Her father’s expression did not change. 

Shenji had to be told what to do next, but Sasuke wordlessly exchanged cups with Hiashi’s, his eyes steadily meeting the patriarch’s gaze. After a beat of tense silence, Hiashi and his new charge drank together from each other's cups, finishing the alcohol.

Hinata could practically taste the liquor going down their throats, and her breathing briefly stalled. She sucked in air, her shoulders tight with the knowledge of what was passing, and what else would come in response. Uchiha Sasuke was theirs now, but did they belong to him, too?

Hiashi’s bellowing voice rang out above the heads of the two initiates:  “May your days be blessed with fortune, and your nights be protected and virtuous.”

“God willing,” they called. 

The Family received their new members in silence. 

-:-

“You w-wanted to see me?” Hinata slid her father’s office door closed and stood with her hands behind her back. He sat at his desk, sipping more sake as soft music curled out of his surround-sound speakers. 

“Sit,” he gestured to the chair in front of his desk. He pulled out a tin, and from that, a plump cigar. “My daughter, tell me: what did you think of the initiation?”

Hinata sat, observing her father. His expression was casual, his face fairly open. Meetings with him never felt stifling...however, they were almost always formal. She only sat in his office when he needed something from her. Usually, he’d smoke a cigar and give her an order. He was lighting it now. 

The smoke that filled the room was so familiar, Hinata almost relaxed. She didn’t though; she remembered herself and the question, “I t-thought it was...peculiar,” she answered honestly. “It was...less j-joyful than a normal initiation.”

Hiashi hummed and smoke curled out from his mouth. “Are initiations meant to be joyful?”

Hinata smiled gracefully as if accepting a challenge, “They a-re meant to h-honor the family. I am, o-of course, excited for the dinner a-afterwards.”

Hiashi gave her a rare upward twist of the lips, a small smile that looked more like a grimace. He continued to smoke and said, “Of course, you are right about it being peculiar. You know I don’t trust those boys or their reasons for being here.”

“Y-you would be a fool to,” Hinata said, letting the words slip off her tongue like she was testing poison on her mouth. She’s been testing the limits of her and her father’s relationship; seeing what she could get away with saying and what she could not. More than that, though, she was testing herself. She needed to know what her place was here. 

Hiashi chuckled, and Hinata let herself exhale minutely from relief. “I suppose I would,” he said. “And that’s what brings you here. Shenji. I want you to watch him, get close to him. The Uchiha...” he paused, thinking. “I’m not sure if you can crack the Uchiha, he is trained to be like us, you see.”

Hinata nodded. She did see. Hiashi didn’t think she could get anything out of him, and the acknowledgment of that made her stomach hurt. It’s not that he was wrong––it’s just that she wished she wasn’t cast aside so easily. 

“Shenji will be easier,” Hiashi confirmed, as if speaking to himself. “the boy seems simple. Figure out where he’s from, where he came from, and how he knows the Uchiha.”

“O-orphanage,” Hinata said, her eyes bright with the thought of already having information for her father. “He t-told me this afternoon. They w-ere both in foster care as children, t-that’s where they met.”

“Hm,” Hiashi’s face didn’t change with the information. He put out the cigar, “just keep digging.”

-

Chapter Text

The party was just about the most dramatic thing Sasuke had ever seen. 

When Uchiha’s got initiated they got a stiff drink and a new weapon. Perhaps a delicious meal. Sometimes a boat––it really depended on who you were––but the celebration almost never amounted to this bullshit. 

He and Naruto stood in the middle of a giant tent as snow gently floated down from the starless night sky, dusting the ground in a layer of fine white powder. Brilliant, tall heaters were interspersed between seats covered in flowing white fabric beside cocktail tables that held glass vases of vibrant, out-of-season lilies. Fairy lights hung down from the top of the tent, circling them all in golden, twinkling lights. To enter, you had to part the strings to be separated from the dark cold of outside. 

It was like the Hyuga had put themselves in a giant fucking snowglobe and were enjoying it. Everyone wore formal attire and they floated around laughing, talking, and drinking like all of this was perfectly normal. 

Sasuke was annoyed and he wanted to leave. Naruto, to his credit, looked to be enjoying himself. He had quickly familiarized himself with the buffet at the back of the tent and left Sasuke to stew by himself. With a plate full of teriyaki chicken, Naruto began to work the room, stopping at table after table, shaking hands with elders and children alike. 

Sasuke sighed and shoved his growing irritation further down his throat. He was a good spy. He was good at his job. He needed to act like it. 

So when the youngest Hyuga, arm-in-arm with the blonde-haired girl he’d seen at his first Affair approached him, he tried not to show his disdain on his face. Instead, he made his expression pleasant––not quite smiling, but certainly not frowning, either. 

“Congratulations on joining the Family,” the youngest Hyuga said. She was petite with a mischievous smile that made her features look sharp and elfish. “I’m Hanabi.”

Sasuke shook her hand and then Ino’s as she introduced herself. They were both staring at him as if they wanted something, so Sasuke said, “It’s a pleasure to meet you both. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you around.”

“Of course you will, I live here,” Hanabi said. “And Ino’s always around. She’s Hinata’s best friend!”

“I am not always around,” Ino hissed to Hanabi, as if this statement had deeply wounded her. “I have a life––”

“–– and a boyfriend.” Hanabi supplied. Sasuke idly realized that the teenager was attempting to flirt with him. He looked for an excuse to be removed from this conversation. Across the tent, Naruto was chatting with Hinata, their heads close together near the bar.

Hm. Sasuke turned back to the pair in front of him. Ino and Hanabi were arguing amongst themselves as if they were the sisters, and Sasuke figured they might as well be, since the Syndicate was one big family in the Hyuga eyes. Out of the corner of his eye, another man was approaching, looking tired and used to the dynamic playing out before him. 

“I’m Shikamaru,” the guy said as he inserted himself beside the arguing girls. He didn’t extend his hand to shake. “Sorry about these two. They often forget that there are other people living and breathing in their orbit.”

Sasuke cracked an easy smile; he needed an ally. “Finally, a normal person. It’s good to meet you.”

Shikamaru outright laughed, a sound that must’ve been rare because both girls stopped bickering to stare at him, then at Sasuke, twin looks of contempt staining their faces. Quickly, Shikamaru turned his back and walked away from them, and Sasuke caught the hint to follow. 

They both went to the bar, which Sasuke noticed with a strange feeling, Naruto and Hinata had vacated. He did a sweep of the room as Shikamaru put in his order, and found Naruto on the dance floor. Hinata was nowhere in sight––not that it mattered. It was Naruto he had to keep an eye on. 

“I’ll have cognac,” Sasuke said to the bartender, another Hyuga, from the looks of him. There were so many of them, everywhere, and they were all doing different things. No wonder it was such an impenetrable, tight-knit group: most of them were related. 

“It’s probably pretty freaky, this place,” Shikamaru said as if reading his mind. Sasuke made no reaction, but he filed Shikamaru’s observative nature in mind for later. That could be dangerous. “You’ll get used to it though.”

Sasuke tested his words, running them together in his head before speaking them, “It’s not so different from when I was a kid. What about you? Did you grow up with them?”

Shikamaru’s eyebrows lifted at the question, but he didn’t look upset. If anything, he seemed to genuinely reflect, saying: “I guess I did. Kids aren’t usually involved here, you’ll learn we have a strict honor code, but my pops would tell me stuff. Prepare me. It wasn’t so disorienting when I was initiated.”

He flashed his arm and his tattoo peaked from the sleeve of his button-down. He’d gotten it on his wrist, the lines joining together over the bone. “Hinata did this a few years ago, back when she’d just started tattooing the Family officially. It was cool to have someone my age to talk to about the process. You probably understand it better––they were all born into it. Not like me.”

Somewhere between question and statement, Sasuke asked: “You had a choice?” 

Shikamaru seemed to take a beat to look at him, really look at him like he was a person rather than some foreign opponent. If he’d had any specific feelings about him, Shikamaru didn’t let them show. Instead, he took a long drink of his own brown drink, shaking his head, “Yeah, I got a choice. Bastards like you––you make me reconsider.”

Somehow, Sasuke managed to not be offended because it didn’t seem like Shikamaru was aiming to hurt him. There was a subtle honesty in the way he said his words; a careful consideration of their effect. He would be one to watch, indeed. 

“Why is that?”

Shikamaru shrugged his shoulders, his body casual as he leaned back with his arm anchored to the bar to balance him. “I mean...you’re here, but your family is not. We all know that, and still, you willingly come.” Shikamaru made a circle in the air with his drink-heavy hand, “Shits a circle. You ever heard of a karmic cycle?”

“Yeah...” Sasuke said, spotting some strange movement across the tent where the Hyuga princess fluttered in and out of his line of sight like a mirage. “I don’t believe in all that, but it's a cute fantasy I’m sure.”

“Hope I didn’t offend....”

“Not at all,” the Uchiha’s response was brisk, comfortable. “We’re standing in the exact same place, at the end of the day.”

“I’d like to believe that,” Shikamaru finished his drink and shoved his hands into his pockets. He was walking away before he’d finished the sentence. “See you around, Uchiha. I’m sure we’ll be working together soon.”

-:-

“So you’ve gotten my dear friend drunk,” Sasuke observed, his eyes passing over Naruto’s sleepy smiling mouth, to Hinata’s pink but somewhat sullen expression. The two of them were sitting at a table next to the dance floor, Naruto slurring slightly with his eyes folding shut, and Hinata nursing a martini, an endearing expression on her otherwise shy face. 

Sasuke had glimpsed them, again, from the other side of the room. He was intrigued. He mostly wondered what about Naruto had made the Hyuga princess so curious when she had scarcely said three words to him after his tattoo. 

Her eyes widened at the accusation, but she covered her shock with a snort. “I-I think he g-got that way himself actually.”

“Hm,” Sasuke took a seat in the only empty chair between Naruto and Hinata, stealing Naruto’s half-full glass of some heavy liquor. After tasting it, Sasuke noted quietly that it was rum. “Well, he’s never been able to turn down a drink from a pretty girl.”

Flirting always loosened them. If Sasuke was ever suspicious, it would be remiss of him to let it show. He prodded in different ways, leaning forward with his chin propped under his arm, gazing deeply into the Hyuga princess’s face, looking for a fissure, a crack in her act.

She only reacted with the coloring of her way, cheeks warming significantly with blush. “P-please, Uchiha-san,” she said politely, demurely. “I o-only showed him where the bar was after he a-asked.”

“Just call me Sasuke,” he responded, rolling his eyes. He was disappointed he had gotten nothing out of her. She was tougher than he thought. “I’m not much of an Uchiha anymore, now that I drink with you Hyugas.”

Hinata raised a thin eyebrow but said nothing. She sipped from her martini glass, her eyes flickering between him and the dance floor. He watched her take turns between looking at him and now-snoozing Naruto, and looking at her sister, cousins, and friends. It seemed that she cared a great deal for them, the way her expression softened in an expression that didn’t seem possible. To Sasuke, she had already seemed soft––how was it feasible that she could become more so?

She was much more layered than he thought. He reflected on earlier in the night when she had laughed open-mouthed with Naruto as she pointed out what looked like different features of the Estate. She had cozied up to him quickly and it made Sasuke suspicious. 

Then, surprising him completely, Hinata said, “And y-yet you don’t trust us.”

So, she was sharp as well. Too sharp. How could he expect anything different from the daughter of Hiashi, who was a well-sharpened sword created by an ancient beast? The Hyugas had been beasts for centuries, and this was no different. Sasuke thought of his ANBU training with a pang to his chest, wishing for a moment that instead of it he could’ve simply existed as an Uchiha. Maybe that way he could’ve been the type of ruthless that curled around the shoulders of the Hyuga party, carrying their arrogance in their mouths, at their feet, and spread across their chests. If he had gotten the opportunity to be trained by Uchiha, he would bare his teeth with his storied power, leaving no survivors of his wrath. 

Instead, he was an agent, and his ability was a quiet knife-to-target in the dark. He would be good to remember that, but something about this Syndicate was sending him spiraling into thoughts about what could’ve been. He breathed quietly to himself, reorienting and remembering his goals. Remembering the gunfire. Remembering why he was here in the belly of this beast. 

When he smiled at her, it was with all of his hate shoved into the back of his throat. He flashed his teeth like a warning, knowing he looked every bit like an Uchiha warlord at that moment. “Can you blame me? Do you trust me, Hyuga princess?”

If Hinata had not been so polite, she would’ve rolled her eyes. Instead, she lowered them, shaking her head minutely, “it doesn’t work like t-that. You haven’t g-given us a reason to, yet.”

Ah. Us. It would always be us and you until he had given them reason to trust him with more. Information, no matter its contents, could never be as important and significant as action. Sasuke would have to prove it with his body. 

He decided to move on, prodding her with his eyes as if trying to unearth some hidden secret from within her. They spent a few casual moments in silence. Sasuke continued to drink, his eyes flinting around the room as he filed away the information for ANBU later. The initiation itself had been a treasure-trove of knowledge that ANBU could sell to the highest bidder without pause.

Hinata, to her credit, did not seem uncomfortable with the silence. She only seemed tired, which was fair enough, considering she had tattooed two bodies and had been up for hours the night before. It seemed to Sasuke that the life of a Hyuga daughter was one of social obligation. 

“So do you only tattoo sigils or do you have other interests?” he ventured, his curiosity curling around him like a snake. 

Hinata looked up as if surprised that he had more to say to her, “Sigils are one of my Family o-obligations,” she said. One of them , Sasuke noted. What are the rest? “But Father allows me to do whatever else I want. I started l-learning the Yakuza style on my own at 15...now Family members travel to see me. S-some even come from o-out of the country.”

“Sounds intense, you must be good at it,” Sasuke said, curious to see her reaction. 

She lowered her eyes humbly, picking the skin at her fingernails. “It’s...an honor, for sure.”

Sasuke used this opportunity to look her over fully. Her placid features seemed wrapped in fog as if he wasn’t allowed to discern her completely. She had this unintentionally mysterious energy about her that obscured some of the true intentions on her face, rendering her mostly meek. But that couldn’t be true, not from what he’d witnessed when he watched her order Suna Gaara away. 

Her body was rarely hidden at social events like these, unlike her facial expressions, though he was sure that that was on purpose. When alone, or tattooing, she had covered her body modestly and walked more confidently with air under her feet. At events, sure she hadn’t shied away, but she certainly wasn’t basking in the attention, either. 

Though she did look good in all of the sleek dresses she wore that seemed to perfectly mold to her body, her hair always just the right amount of casual, her lips usually pursed in an unassuming pink or gloss and parted slightly––agreeably, always. When she spoke to Naruto she fluttered her eyelashes––real ones––which cast her in a favorable, honest light. Natural. When she laughed it was with hesitant, titillating sounds that reminded him of the wings of a hummingbird. 

Surely, the woman was not all soft giggles, halting speech, and tattoo needles. She was the oldest daughter of Hyuga Hiashi, and something much more to Suna Gaara. She was sitting in front of Uchiha Sasuke and his attention was trapped inside of her thick veil of intrigue, whether he liked it––or was doing it on purpose––or not.

In his calculations, lasting no more than twenty-five seconds, he had noticed a flaw in her ensemble. 

“Are you allowed to get tattoos yourself?” He asked blandly, emotionlessly. “I’ve never seen a tattooer without any.”

It was true; her arms, chest, legs, were all a bare expanse of cream-colored skin, except for her sigil on her right arm. Her lips quirked curiously, but Sasuke could see the resistance. When her cheeks had gone cherry, she said, “Of c-course I’m a-allowed. D-d...do you think me some sort of over protected child?”

Her tone dipped with a tinge of offense at the end, but her face continued to be quietly composed. She was certainly raised a Hyuga, that was no question. When Sasuke looked away, he was glad to see the expression crack, her eyebrows lifting in exasperation, or annoyance, or shame. He couldn't be sure.

“Apologies,” he said without remorse. A server placed another drink beside his empty glass, and he thought he could perhaps get used to being shackled to the Hyuga Estate. “I overstepped. I was only curious about your work ethic.”

“M-my appearance has n-nothing to d-do with my work ethic or my s-skills!” This, it seemed, she could not hold in. Her face was fully red now––he had upset her. Silently, he reveled in this discovery; she was as prideful as anyone else. 

Sasuke responded casually, “I didn’t say that.”

Her expression said he might as well have. She carefully tucked her hair behind her ears, exposing them to be just as red as her cheeks. Sasuke wondered if she was used to being questioned in this way. Still, she hadn’t left for, perhaps, what would be a better conversation. She didn’t look all that interested in joining the crowds of dancing people. 

A noise made them both jump. Naruto groaned in his seat, peeling his eyes open, though his eyelids seemed to try to reject the action. Sasuke and Hinata both had forgotten that he was even there. He stared at the both of them slowly, head bobbing from side to side before he belched and said, “Where’s the bathroom?”

Hinata told him, the color sliding from her face as she calmed. Sasuke noted this new fact, too: she liked having something to do. She liked being helpful.

Naruto walked away with a small smile. Bastard isn’t even drunk , Sasuke thought with contempt. Playing drunk, he’d probably get way more information from wandering around the Estate than Sasuke did earlier that day. All he’d gotten was threatened.  

But it was Sasuke who sat with the princess now, and it was the princess who had not left her seat. Surely she sat with him for a reason. 

“W-whatever you t-think about me,” she started again quietly, her lavender eyes focused on the newly-placed mixed drink that she stirred idly with a miniature straw. “It’s...probably wrong.”

Sasuke didn’t care for her tone. He diverted once more: “So you do have tattoos.”

Hinata’s expression told him she thought him somewhat daft, but perhaps that is what she wanted him to believe. Simply, she leaned back in her chair and said, “O-of course, Uchi ...Sasuke , I have tattoos.”

Huh. For a brief, startling moment, Sasuke began to imagine what these tattoos might be, and where, considering none of them were visible to him. He briefly (very very briefly) found himself lost in the thought of the small of her back...when her bare shoulder turned and exposed the back of her neck, he thought of the skin that fell beyond; out of sight. He thought of saturated and colorful lines gracing the curve of a hip, a thigh, a waist swirling in large strokes around her body in ways that were unknowable to him.

She must’ve noticed him staring because she coughed hard into her hand to distract herself, moving uncomfortably as if she were about to leave at long last. Sasuke played it off, shifting his gaze. He cursed himself for being distracted by random and misplaced urges. Perhaps he should visit Sakura soon.

Neji appeared at their table. He bent at the waist, kissing Hinata on the cheek as his eyes, very quickly, flickered between her and Sasuke’s sitting positions. When he straightened, he smiled a thin smile and said, “Hinata, mind if I borrow him for a moment?”

Hinata raised her eyebrows as if the question had caught her off guard, “O-of course. I mean, he’s not very much mine to give is he?”

Neji made no comment. Sasuke rolled his eyes, if Neji wanted to treat him like some sort of object, then fine. It didn’t matter to him as long as he did his job. Still, Sasuke lifted his mouth into a smirk and said: “Yes, you may borrow me.”

For the second time that evening, Hinata gave a small snort of laughter. He wondered why she did that, why she acted like she was trying to contain outward expressions of joy. It sounded like it hurt. 

If Neji looked annoyed he didn’t show it, he simply turned and walked away. Sasuke nodded to Hinata, her eyes following him curiously as he stood and walked out of the tent behind the Hyuga ass. 

Neji led him to the Affair room, where to his surprise Shikamaru sat alone on the floor with half of his body leaning out of the doorway, conspicuously (and lazily) blowing cigarette smoke into the interior garden. He nodded to Sasuke, and Sasuke understood that their one and only conversation had since rendered them acquaintances. 

Neji shed his suit jacket and placed it carefully onto the coat rack. Then he said, “Tomorrow we go to the Akatsuki speakeasy. Our goal is to find enough information to locate the rest of them. Here's the plan...”

-:-

Sasuke found the whole thing boring if he was being honest. He thought that the Hyuga would at least want to kick some ass, but no, it was just another information scouting extravaganza. 

“At least you look well-rested,” Shikamaru said to him when they rendezvoused at a car garage near Katō Park. They met up at 11 pm the next evening to pick up their cars, luxury vehicles imported from all over the world. Shikamaru would take Hiashi’s old Rolls Royce, while Sasuke would begrudgingly ride in Neji’s Maserati. He wasn’t allowed his own, and besides, it would look gaudy for all three to have rides. 

“I tried,” Sasuke answered offhandedly. He had gotten back to his studio at almost 5 in the morning, exhausted and unfortunately unbearably unsettled. He called Sakura on a burner phone that he disposed of the next morning, and in a low tone asked her what she was doing. 

The phone sex had not been satisfying, Sakura half-awake, him half-asleep, it was a waste of time. After they hung up awkwardly, he forced himself to eat a plate of leftovers, drank the rest of his whisky, and fell into a fitful sleep until like clockwork, his nightmares woke him up.

So yeah, he fucking tried. 

At the garage Neji doled out their weapons like a parent giving out snacks, looking clear-headed, stone cold, and boring. Sasuke immediately gave his back, shaking his head.

“What?” Neji practically barked it at him, but Sasuke didn’t flinch. “Not good enough for you?”

“I didn’t say that,” Sasuke said patiently, smiling pleasantly in Neji’s face knowing that it only pissed him off. “I just don’t think it would be wise to walk into a known, affiliated speakeasy with three pistols. Don't think that seems suspicious?” 

Shikamaru agreed, saying, “yeah, he’s right, Neji. We’d be better off with knives or something. Our fists. Metal will just cause problems.”

Sasuke guided them through the next few steps, directing them down long stretches of highway and ironing out the details of the plan with Neji as his car took sleek turns onto side streets until they finally reached the dark caverns of Maiko avenue. Sasuke could practically smell the stink of it through his windows, its odor surrounding the neighborhood in heavy smog, like a cloud over their heads. 

This was a fish market neighborhood. They were near the ports. The streets were slick with melting snow, reflecting the blinking lights of liquor stores and strip clubs. Wrinkling his nose, Sasuke instructed Neji to pull up to the Foreign Car Hospital. It was a little building, nudged between two tall apartments. It looked like it had just been dropped there by a mightier being who had gotten confused about the concept of urban planning.

Neji pulled into one of the only open parking spots, and Shikamaru parked the Royce behind them. In the rearview mirror, Sasuke could see him drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, somehow bored already. After a few minutes, a heavy thud echoed around them as a young man rocked his fist against the metal of the Maserati, whistling. Sasuke rolled down his window. 

The man looked about twenty, with acne populating around the canyon of his cheek. His pimples glowed as he popped his head into the vehicle, unconcerned with personal space. He was nondescript, brown-haired, brown-eyed, and young. Perhaps some sort of lackey. His expression was disapproving, “What can I do for you gents at this time of night, eh?”

Sasuke recalled the immaculately organized details of Sakura’s report, siphoning an answer with a confident smile, “Engine trouble. Keeps making a funny sound when it starts up––thought we’d check it out since we were in the neighborhood.”

“Hm,” the man made no expression. “Well, pop the trunk will you?” Then he turned to Shikamaru’s car in the back, opening his mouth to exclaim something when Sasuke stopped him with a hand that demanded authority. 

“He’s with us,” he informed the man.

“Oh yeah? And where are you upstanding gentlemen headed to, so late in these beautiful bitches?” He said, referring to the car.

Neji made a face as he popped the hood of his car with a click. Sasuke ignored him, easily taking control of the situation with friendly banter. Neji didn’t understand how quickly this thing could go south. 

“We’re on our way to Pearl’s Palace ,” Sasuke said, making his tone casual.  “You ever been there, man?  There’s a girl I’m in love with there, she always performs early ‘cause I asked her to. I don’t want her touched too much, you understand.”

“Oh yeah?” The mechanic said again, his tone lifting. Sasuke imagined he had started to think about Pearl’s Palace and all the wonders that lived inside. It was a nautical-themed strip club that was fairly exclusive, and very expensive. Some of the women even danced in giant fish tanks, slipping their bikinis over their heads as their hair floated in waves around their torsos. “Who’s your girl?”

Naruto liked going there a lot, and for once Sasuke was grateful for those excursions. Sasuke watched the man dip under the hood of the car as he responded, “Her name is Star. She’s got all this beautiful strawberry blonde hair and huge tits, perfectly round like fuckin’ balloons. That’s not it though, you should see the way she throws her––”

Neji was sending him a disgusted look when the kid shut the hood in a slam, a business card enclosed between his fingers. Sakura had given it to him last time they met, saying that she only had one. Sasuke only had one chance to get into the speakeasy, so he had to do whatever he could to gain the trust of whoever was working the front. 

“Sounds sexy,” the mechanic said, smirking now.  “You should bring her around here next time, this spots better for a nightcap, if you know what I’m saying.”

Sasuke inclined his head, signaling Neji. They both got out of the car. “Good to know,” Sasuke said, smiling a dirty, wide smile at the man, who looked hungry at the thought of this made-up stripper. “We’re first-timers. I didn’t know what the vibes were.”

“We always welcome women,” he said. He walked around the car towards the supply room Sasuke remembered from Sakura’s pictures. When the man stopped in front of the door, he threw an inquisitive look over his shoulders at Neji and Shikamaru.  “Your friends are kind of quiet, eh?”

“They’re nervous,” Sasuke said, patting Neji hard on the shoulder as he looked at the man with a quickly growing frown. “You know how it is when you’ve never been with a whore. I thought I’d get ‘em a drink, and take them to meet my lady.”

“She’s our lady tonight,” Shikamaru said as if he were in on the joke. At least he had better social skills than Neji.

The man laughed and opened the door. Sasuke walked through looking back at Neji, his eyes a stiff warning. Sasuke wasn’t going to let Neji’s stiff morals or whatever ruin his chance. 

Chapter Text

The speakeasy opened up like the mouth of a cave. 

Sasuke felt the nefarious energy of the dark bar scrub his insides raw. There was a DJ who played low drums in rapid staccato rhythms, featuring oozing flutes and low singing like whispers or ritual chants laid over a saxophone. If he didn’t feel that his life was immediately in danger the second he’d stepped over the threshold, he might have called this place sexy.

It was certainly not a place for a woman, or the imaginary stripper Star, though, that was for sure. 

To his left, Neji’s face became a casual mask of intrigue, his jaw relaxed for once, his contact lens-bound eyes curious and open. Sasuke had never seen him make such an expression and was grateful that he at least knew how to conduct himself in a place like this. Shikamaru, walking to his right, was much the same––though his bored expression remained, it wouldn’t be a detriment. 

As planned, Shikamaru asked after a bathroom, Neji chatted with club go-ers, and Sasuke sat at the bar, his fingers aching as if he’d suddenly gotten the urge to throw a punch. He felt antsy, though he didn’t let his movements show it. Right across the bar counter was a small framed photo of a red cloud. He knew he was in the right place. 

Mentally, he made a list of all of the known Akatsuki Members. There was imprisoned Hidan and rumored Itachi. Everyone else had mostly escaped the spotlight and lived their days in secrecy. ANBU at least knew that they had a headquarters somewhere besides this speakeasy, a cloud symbol, and a reputation. It wasn’t enough, and it angered Sasuke that the agency had been too lazy––too cash motivated––to care about gathering intelligence. 

If they did, he’d be in an entirely different situation. 

The club was sleepy without much foot traffic, but Sasuke could see how quickly things started to shift as the clock slowly eased past midnight. More and more men started gliding through the maintenance doors, their arms and legs and torsos swept for weapons. They slid into booths with bottle service, their heavy-gemmed rings glinting against the low-hanging purple lights. Women had started to appear wearing booty shorts and morsels of fabric for tops, their long necks bent as they wrote down orders, whispering in the ears of men who Sasuke slowly started to recognize the longer he sat still.

A Senator with a golden tooth, there. An actor who’d just won a big award, here. A big-wig defense lawyer that once paid ANBU a six-figured check for a hard-hitting tip against the plaintiff just purchased one of the best brands of whisky they had.

If Sasuke thought hard enough, he could see this man's face. He would know that this man had represented Hizashi, and it was for Hizashi’s case that he had requested the Agency’s help. He would write this fact down, store it inside, and save it for later. It was not something he could simply explain to Hiashi––nor did he want to––but it did cast the speakeasy in an uncomfortable, dangerous sort of energy.

For a moment, he mulled over telling Neji as he sipped his second whisky for the night. He made a decision when he decided that the lawyer recognizing Neji would jeopardize the mission––and their safety. When Neji stood beside him, ordering another drink, Sasuke leaned close to him, saying casually: “...I could be wrong, I don’t pay much attention to these kinds of things but...isn’t that the man who defended your father?”

He phrased it like a question but he knew the answer with the subtle tightening of the Hyuga’s jaw.  Neji gave a quick glance around the club, his eyes landing on the man in question, then stiffened, relaxed, all in one breath. “Noted,” he said curtly, perhaps gratefully, though nothing ever reached his eyes. “Focus on the mission.”

With that, Neji returned to his task mingling amongst clubgoers. Sasuke returned to his drink, sipping, and began to think about Orochimaru. It seemed obvious by now that this had been one of his old, undiscovered digs that had been passed down––or stolen––by the Akatsuki. The dark aesthetics were telling of Orochimaru's style: dark floor, low ceiling, and a sick, pulsing energy. 

Sasuke didn’t have time to dwell on it, besides, the bartender was sliding a drink across the counter. It clanked with his empty glasses. Sasuke looked up, an eyebrow raised, “I didn’t order this.”

But got no response. The bartender was deep on the floor, handing trays of champagne to one of the bottle girls. The bar was mostly empty, save for him. When he grabbed the drink, he sniffed it carefully. That was when he realized that there was 5000 yen stuck to the bottom of it.

Carefully, Sasuke unstuck the cash and looked it over. It didn’t look like anything out of the ordinary; slightly wrinkled and soft to his fingertips with age––so used, it almost felt like cloth. It could’ve accidentally been stuck to the bottom, tip money fallen to the wayside. But Sasuke didn’t believe in coincidences. ANBU, and the Uchihas, had taught him that.

He pocketed the bill and set the glass, untouched besides that, back onto the counter. He looked over his shoulders to search for his partners––Neji on the perimeter, scoping out the exits, and Shikamaru was still nowhere in sight, just as they planned. 

As easily the night had started, just as quickly did it unravel. As Sasuke was finishing tucking the bill into his pants pocket, he saw the slip of a pale ankle as it rushed into a back room. A tattoo lined the surface of the visible skin and an inky drawing of the handle of a fan vanished from view as that tattoo entered a room. 

A fan. Sasuke felt his blood run cold, then hot. A fan. The fan. The Uchiha fan tattoo. 

Without thinking––his years of training forgotten and his mission completely discarded from thought and mind––he charged after this figure heading straight for the room he had seen it disappear through his mind screaming at him the fan, the fan, the fan, the fan, the fan–– he dared not to think about the name Itachi for fear that if uttered he would summon him and all of his fears, or hopes, would come true.

He slipped by the first round of guards, but when he got close to the door, a man in a long dark robe appeared from the shadows and pushed him hard. His skull cracked against the wall with a whip.

Sasuke remembered himself suddenly like he was being pushed back into his body after his head was snapped back with a heavy punch. There was a PUH! sound, which he realized was the air leaving his mouth after the fist had attempted to carve a hole into his mouth.

He tasted blood and remembered he was an agent. One of the best, actually, so he felt his body relax as he calculated his next moves. He let his neck crumple over, his chin hitting his chest like he had briefly lost consciousness. 

“Who the fuck are you, yeah?” The man was saying as he gripped one of Sasuke’s shoulders. Sasuke registered that this was another Akatsuki member. He filed some information away: Blond-haired, blue-eyed, fairly short with a medium build. Fast and good with his hands. 

Now that he had him in a vulnerable position, Sasuke delivered a crisp blow across the man's face, knocking him to the ground. He crumbled like dominos, his legs going slack from the surprise. Sasuke kicked him a couple of times in the ribs, saying “that’s for Hyuga Hizashi.”

Behind him, the door that the fan tattoo had gone into seemed to glow with temptation, but Sasuke caught the eye of Shikamaru across the bar. He looked alarmed at the situation Sasuke had found himself in, but that was it. When he nodded his head, it was to confirm that he had gotten what they’d come for. 

Neji, closest to him, ducked into the corner with Sasuke, took one look at the blonde-haired man on the ground, and kicked him hard in the ribs. 

Well shit , Sasuke thought, momentarily impressed. Then, the Hyuga boy did something even crazier. 

He walked out of the open, pulled a gun from his pants, and released three shots into the air. 

The music, the conversation, the glass clinking––all this stopped as Neji took in his surroundings. By that point, he had scooped the place out, asked pointed questions to unassuming guests, and chatted politely, if not flirtatiously, with the bottle girls. By that point, he knew who was in charge there. 

“Long live Hizashi Hyuga!” Neji yelled into the quiet, his gun smoking at his side. Sasuke covered Neji’s back quickly, his eyes on the blonde-haired man on the ground who twitched minutely. Sasuke saw his eyes open, and so he unbuttoned his shirt and showed him the handgun he had expertly concealed within the folds of his undergarments. He may have told Neji and Shikamaru not to bring theirs––he hadn’t trusted them or their skills completely––but he certainly was not going to hold himself to that same standard. It appeared that Neji hadn’t, either. 

Sasuke pointed the gun at the man, kneeling so that he could hold it under his quivering jaw. “What is your name?”

“Fuck you!” The man sneered. He reared back and launched his head forward, but Sasuke dodged the headbutting attempt. 

“––This club now belongs to the Hyuga Syndicate. You all have two minutes to vacate the premises––” Neji was saying. In the front, Shikamaru was smashing bottles and yelling backup commands. Row after row of liquor fell into a puddle on the floor, the liquid pools reflecting back the flashing purple lights of the club. It looked like how Sasuke imagined the River Styx.

People started running for the doors as terrorized noises filled the room.

“Are there more of you here?” Sasuke asked, nudging the gun further under the man’s chin. The metal was cold against his skin. 

“I said fuck. you.” the Akatsuki member spit at him. This is where Sasuke realized that he was much, much more dangerous than he had originally thought and that he had made an error in processing. The man didn’t give a fuck about his life. The blonde man basically absorbed the gun into his throat as he made an effort to scratch Sasuke’s eyeballs out. With icy shock, Sasuke realized that he was willing to literally die trying .

Sasuke's fingers itched on the trigger when hot, wet, pain seared across his upper right thigh. The man under him giggled with his mouth open, his teeth covered in blood. Fuck, Sasuke thought in mild panic. He could feel the sudden wetness of his pants. Had this man hit an artery? When he looked down he saw the knife curled around the man's fingers, his blood glinting sickening marron in the light.

“For fucks sake,” Sasuke bemoaned, quite unlike himself, and shot the Akatsuki member in the throat. He just wished he knew his name. The smell of smoke entered the air as Sasuke tore his gun away.

At the sound of the second gunshot, the clubgoer’s screams rose. They were quite literally terrorizing this establishment––but what did it matter; Neji was proclaiming (over, and over again) that this was a Hyuga club now.

No sooner than Sasuke had killed a man, Neji was pulling him up to his feet and worried at the slice in Sasuke’s leg. He gave Sasuke a quick, unfiltered look of alarm that seemed to say, are you fucking kidding me?  

As soon as Neji secured an arm around Sasuke’s waist someone started yelling “Fire! Fire! ” Above them, the ceiling sprinklers activated as behind them smoke curled out of the glowing door that Sasuke had so badly wanted to enter. All thoughts of the Uchiha fan and his brother were gone as Hyuga Neji ran Sasuke out of the club, leaving a body behind in the puddles. 

Despite the pain, Sasuke had his bloody gun posed and ready behind Neji, and Neji had his ablaze in front of them. Shikamaru flanked their sides as they quickly entered the garage. The Maserati was long gone, so they piled into the Royce, laying Sasuke in the backseat of the vehicle. Neji took off his button-down shirt without a second thought and fashioned it like a tourniquet around Sasuke’s leg while Shikamaru drove quickly and urgently down the street.

About three blocks away, they saw smoke billowing into the air casting the night in hot, orange light. Sasuke watched from the backseat, dull with pain, thinking that he had been right, after all. There was someone else in that back room. Someone who had started the fire.

He took the 5000 yen from his pocket and put it into the gun holder around his stomach. He had a strong feeling he would need it later.

-:-

Hinata began skinning the body of a fox, working quickly to distract herself from the rush of thoughts that pressed against her frontal lobe. Her gloved hands were soaked in red, which was a needful distraction indeed. 

The morning had been hard. She sat in meetings with her Father and Uncles from other parts of the country, who openly demeaned her and made fun of her stutter, not knowing that she was Hiashi’s eldest child. They always assumed it was Neji, and that Hinata was mere help. 

Hiashi liked Hinata to attend meetings. He thought her presence was important and he thought her tendency for quiet was strength. These men, of course, had not gotten off easily after boldly making comments, their chests thrown out with humor and their mouths falling open. They had gotten beaten quite badly, and they trembled when they bowed before Hinata with their apologies.

To Hinata’s credit, she did not enjoy their repentance any more than she enjoyed being bullied by men who thought their genders superior. If they had known she existed and was in such a position, they would’ve simply whispered their insults over drinks when Hiashi was not in the room. 

When she was young, Hiashi always told her that her weaknesses could be strengths if she used them correctly. To him, her stutter was nothing short of one of her biggest gifts. He knew that she possessed skill and intellect far beyond the average man––they just wouldn’t believe it to be true because she stumbled over her vowels. He sat her down one day when she was eight and said, “they will think you are incapable, but you will know you are not.”

This “gift”––nothing more than a symptom of Complex PTSD––did indeed make her better at deceiving people, but that was only because people were ableist, discriminatory assholes at their core. When she stuttered, they were either annoyed or endeared, neither of which allowed them to take her seriously. She had gotten a lot of information out of people, this way. 

It helped, she supposed, that people thought she was beautiful. She took after Aoki, with her moon-shaped face, button nose, and long dark trendles of hair that fell down her back. Hiashi had seen this and used it, often sending her on tasks that involved men of certain status when she was old enough. He never wanted her to engage with them in sexual ways––that would be too far and too demeaning, nothing that would befit a Hyuga daughter––but he did want her to date them. He wanted her to hold them just far enough and just close enough, that they sought more from her. They were willing to trade their deepest secrets to touch her. 

She never allowed it. Especially after Gaara. Not that her father knew about that. 

Still, all the talk about her stutter had drudged up the grimy reasons why she had one in the first place. When she was seven she’d been kidnapped. There was a man with more power than a Hyuga running the city, and he was known for trafficking the things that the Hyuga had for decades, refused to: humans. 

Hinata remembered walking home from school by herself one day. She can’t remember why––maybe her mother was sick. But then, why wouldn’t a servant get her? Maybe she had stupidly decided to go by herself. Who knows. She had spent years wondering over the hows and whys of the situation, but there would never be an answer to satisfy her.

At the time she wore her hair in pigtails. She remembered what she had on: a Pooh-Bear-themed yellow dress with a pink long-sleeved shirt underneath it, black and white striped socks, and a pair of dirty sneakers. She remembered passing the supermarket at the strip mall near her school when a man in a parked van swept her into the back seat, shoved a cloth into her mouth, and drove off. The world went black. Hinata did not remember what happened after that.

But they kidnapped the wrong child. She knew that she had been recovered within five hours. She knew that no real harm had come to her body that she, or anyone else, could discern. She also knew, when watching the news, that a man named Kabuto had been brutally murdered and left in a public pool. There were no suspects. Even then, young Hinata had known that the Hyuga had gotten their revenge––in fact, they celebrated it, loudly cheering “We ran that snake bitch out of Konoha!” They drank long into the night while Hinata sat swaddled by her mother in her bedroom. They peered down at the yard as the men drank and partied. Hinata was unable to speak. 

Hinata knew that for years, people on the internet would speculate about where kingpin Orochimaru had disappeared to. For years, no one heard from him. It was like magic–– poof, he was gone. Then, about five years ago, he’d reappeared. Hinata had gotten the biggest headache of her life when she saw the news that day. At the time, she didn't know why. 

Now he was gone, again, but her stutter remained. She remembered the news from that day too––two years ago he was captured by federal agents or something. He was put away in the pen . How she had wished and wished, when the news covered every television screen around, that with his capture and institutionalization, her stutter would die, too. 

If anything, it acted as a gruesome reminder of an event she had only a speck of memory of. 

A throat cleared from the doorway, and Hinata almost sliced her palm with her knife. She fumbled for a moment before dropping it into a metal pan and looking up. A clang sound resonated against the walls of the otherwise completely silent room. Neji and Sasuke stood in the doorway, Sasuke leaning heavily onto Neji’s side as he held a hand to his right thigh. They made a peculiar pair: Neji, shirtless, and Sasuke, covered in blood.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Neji said, sounding genuine and tired. “He got stabbed. Can you fix him up?”

“Of course,” Hinata said, immediately springing to action. She only allowed herself to feel alarmed for a palmful of seconds.

She quickly discarded her gloves into the metal tray with the knife and grabbed a folding chair from the closet. She then went to Sasuke’s other side, sliding his free arm around her shoulder. Together, she and Neji walked him over. She tried to ignore the feeling of his warm breath on her cheek. When they moved to sit him down, their cheeks brushed and Hinata felt dampness there. 

“Get me a clean towel and the bag from under the table and you can go,” Hinata said while she made quick work of washing her hands and putting on a fresh pair of gloves. She kneeled before the Uchiha, whose face at that point had gone white, and undid the clumsy tie of Neji’s discarded shirt. How quickly she forgot that in action, her stutter fell away with her panic. 

The wound was bright red and gushing, Sasuke's skin looked jagged and purple underneath the blood. Hinata prodded the skin lightly, nodding. “It’s not deep. You’re lucky,” she looked up at him then, their eyes meeting for a long second. His were filled with muted pain, though there was something else, some other feeling swirled within his dark gaze. Hinata looked away, feeling, for some reason, out of breath. She cleared her throat. “––Whoever did this didn’t hit an artery. You’ll just need stitches.”

Neji placed the bag beside Hinata’s kneeling form, made a face, and promptly left the room. Hinata laughed quietly to herself as she grabbed a small plastic bin and a bottle of saline. She held the bin under his thigh, then looked back up at him, “this is going to hurt, but probably not more than being stabbed.”

Sasuke let a short chuckle escape before hissing in pain as Hinata squirted the solution on his bleeding thigh. To distract himself he said, “What’s with Hyuga?”

Hinata continued to irrigate the wound, not even seeming surprised at the question. “He hates blood.”

Now, Sasuke outright laughed. Hinata finished cleaning the wound, changed gloves, and started to stitch him up without preamble. She was quick at her job; making fast work of patching Sasuke up again, and she didn’t bother to ask what happened. She’d likely hear about it later.

Possibly to distract himself from the pain, Sasuke nodded to her work table where the remains of a half-cut open fox lay, “What’s with that?”

“Taxidermy,” Hinata said as she stuck the needle through his skin. “S-sometimes we put drugs or m-money inside before we send it off.”

“Sometimes?” Sasuke rose an eyebrow.

“Most times,” Hinata confirmed with a twist of her lips. “Okay––every time. We s-send things inside...every time.”

They lapsed into silence as Hinata finished her last few stitches. Sasuke’s skin was red and taunt, beginning to yellow already when she pulled the final thread and wrapped a bandage and gauze around his leg. When she stood and got rid of her third pair of gloves for the evening he looked at her for a long moment, his eyebrow still raised. 

Self-consciously, her cheeks colored as she busied herself disposing of the various bio-hazards that had amassed. “Wh...what?”

“Nothing–––you’re just interesting, Hyuga,” Sasuke made to stand, but put pressure on his right leg and faltered. Hinata caught his arm, dropping the bin and the bandages in her haste. They locked eyes for another long moment, and Hinata became glaringly aware, once again, of how close their bodies were. She breathed slowly as she guided him back into the chair, her hand a solid weight on what appeared to be a very toned bicep. 

“W-why do you say that?” She asked after she ducked down to pick up the things she’d dropped, so she would not have to look at him or think about how her body felt when she did. It was a feeling she hadn’t felt in a while, and she would like to keep it that way. 

“You have a lot of unexpected talents.”

That could be true. Hinata said nothing as she disposed of the items, her face inflamed as if the compliment––or touching him––embarrassed her. 

This time, Sasuke smartly remained seated but he leaned back, seeming to look her up and down with his eyes. She suddenly felt self-conscious in her uniform of plain black leggings and a crew-neck sweatshirt she’d saved from high school. Was it too tight around her stomach? Were her leggings too sheer?

“What I wanna know is,” Sasuke started, his voice eclipsing in her ears as if he were a siren. “Have you ever done a full-body tattoo?”

Hinata’s eyebrows lifted in surprise at the question as she returned to her station with the fox. “S-sure I have. Why do you ask?”

“Thinking of doing my back,” he said. 

“Trying to s-show off, Uchiha?”

She had this surprising bite that always caught him off guard when she chose to use it. He smirked in response, “Trying to stay alive. I have plans.”

Everyone knew that the more tattoos you had, the more dangerous you were perceived to be. Especially in a city like Konoha. Hinata nodded, slightly and inconceivably pleased by the answer. “I can...I can work on something for you if t-that’s what you're asking.”

“It is,” Sasuke said. He began to unbutton his shirt, citing the heat as his reasoning, though Hinata found it rather cold. It had to be, to keep the fox intact. Though she assumed his brush with a sliced artery was reason enough to have elevated vitals, Hinata looked away politely, focused on skinning her animal. “I’d appreciate that, maybe we can sit down and talk ideas one day.”

“Sure,” she said. She didn’t look at him. 

A moment of silence passed until Sasuke asked if Hinata had any painkillers. She gasped as if she felt stupid for not providing them, though Sasuke waved off her apologies. Slipping off her gloves once more, she dug into a bag asking if narcotics were okay or if he would like something less intense. Surprising her again, Sasuke said that Tylenol was fine.

When she gave it to him her sweater had come up around her back after digging around for it, exposing a slither of tattooed skin. Sasuke looked at it in such an obvious way that she turned red and straightened quickly, handing him his pills with an outstretched hand.

Sasuke ignored the hand, “Can I see?”

“That’s...that’s...uh...I–”

“Nevermind,” the Uchiha said. He leaned back, accepting the pills and dry swallowing them without a drink. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“I’m not un-uncomfortable!” She blurted, though she truly was and she was not sure why she lied. It was possible that Hinata had a complex, just like she had one with her stutter, that made her want to prove herself to near-strangers. Besides, last night Sasuke had questioned her abilities. Why not show him that she could take the pain she doled out regularly, as well as do a good fucking job taking it?

She turned around and lifted the back of her shirt, exposing her back and wincing a little with embarrassment when she realized he could see her bra strap. Her tattoo started mid and central back, right below the line of where a sleeveless dress would show her skin. It was completely covered in black and red ink, all the way down and dipping below where her leggings started.  

For a long, enduring moment, Sasuke said nothing as he stared at the tattoo. It featured a kimono-clad woman holding a knife between her teeth as flowers bloomed on either side of her figure. Her hair fell in long trendles around her, and it looked to loop around the other side of her body and dip below Hinata’s pants line. Above the figure's head, scales like a dragon tail flickered around the woman’s neck. The scales, too, seemed to come from somewhere else not being shown to him.

Hinata lowered her sweatshirt as if she were ending a show and quickly dusted off the sides of the garment with her hands. When Sasuke said nothing, she walked back to her station but couldn’t continue her work. Her hands were shaking. 

“My uh...m-my mother was an artist though she n-never called herself one. She drew the design,” Hinata said quietly to fill the silence. She was too scared of what she had revealed to him and too scared of what she was now revealing. “I found it in her sketchbook after she d-died. I was 15.”

Sasuke said nothing. Hinata continued, “My uncle was the o-one who taught me to tattoo. Hizashi. I had wanted him to give me my first big piece b-but...”

“He went to prison,” Sasuke supplied.

“Yes, he did,” she said. “But by that p-point, I didn’t want h-him to do it anyway. It would’ve been dishonorable,” she said this with zeal, her words laced with anger despite herself. She cleared her throat uncomfortably. Her hand still shook when she held the knife so she gave up for the night and began to pack the animal away in a bag so that she might freeze it for later. “A f-friend of mine, we went to school together, learned to tattoo with me. Well, not with me, but w-we did skill s-sharing. I mean––I––”

“You taught this friend how to tattoo, didn’t you?”

Hinata blushed humbly, “Only a f-few things. I got this done only a couple of y-years ago, after––” she cleared her throat again, stopping herself. Garra’s image bloomed in her mind and she shook it away quickly. Sasuke’s sitting form filled her line of sight suddenly. He was reclining, his gaze intently watching her. His legs were open wide, his head back slightly, he looked as if he could be watching an interesting film. 

With frustration, she jammed the fox into the bag and sealed it. Why was she saying all this stuff? Why was she having to stop herself? “––After a p-particularly hard year. The drawing comforted me. It was a story my mother used to tell us about a woman who caught the Last Great Dragon, before setting him free. She caught him to s-show the people, the men, her strength. She let him go to show her compassion.”

“I know that story,” Sasuke said. “My mom used to tell it to me. When the dragon didn’t attack her after she let it free the men were shocked. Instead, the dragon left her gifts––pots of jewels and silk.”

Finally, Hinata looked up at him, her eyes wild with surprise. “N-not many people know that story,” she said. She looked pink and delighted––and somewhat embarrassed. 

Sasuke seemed to drink the look on her face in as if it was the first glass of water he’d had all day, then he shrugged casually, saying “My mother told us all kinds of stories.”

“I’m––I’m sure.”

“It’s a beautiful tattoo, Hinata” Sasuke said kindly, honestly. His tone was even when he said her name, his tongue exploring the syllables against his mouth, making contact with the roof of it when he pronounced the “na” and “ta” sounds. It was a pleasant rhythm when he said it. He began to stand, his right leg heavy and awkward at the same time. The pain echoed in response. “Hopefully I get to see the front of it one day.”

Hinata cracked an awkward smile as if she didn’t know what to say or think about the idea of exposing that to him, but then she paused, her face serious and somewhat concerned as she said “Actually––y-you might...”

Sasuke quirked an eyebrow, his expression an interesting juxtaposition of curious and confused. He was keeping a smirk from filling his features, “what do you mean?”

“Um,” Hinata blundered awkwardly with the fox and the bag and the gloves. She shook her head, holding up her hands “Not like––n-not l-like th-that!”

“Like what, Hyuga princess?” He seemed to delight in seeing her flustered. 

Her hands flew as if she were trying to figure out what to say, “nevermind!” she said with a huff, turning her back abruptly as she hauled the fox off the table. “I–-um, I was j-just saying that we have a job to do next w-week. At a b-bathhouse.”

“Sounds...steamy,” Sasuke said. 

Hinata began dragging the bagged fox behind her, walking right past him, not even meeting his eyes, “Um...ok. Se-see you then, Sasuke!”

She could feel his eyes on her as she walked away. She screwed her eyes shut, sick with humiliation. 

Chapter Text

Sasuke woke to dreams where money slid out of his pockets while his father whispered into his ears with his hands on his shoulders. He was eight years old. In front of him, 5000 yen bills spread out on the table. His father pressed his hands into the surface, his ring-clad knuckles and age-speckled fingers insistent on something. He kept gesturing, over and over again, running his hands, his yellowed fingernails, over the old, delicate-looking currency. He spoke in whispers Sasuke did not understand.

When he opened his eyes, it was to stare at Sakura’s back as she pulled a sports bra over her shoulders. Hesitant winter light spilled in from the windows above her bed, casting the shadows of tree branches over her cream-colored walls. She pulled her hair into a ponytail with a flick of her wrists, saying simply, “You must’ve been tired. You’re usually up before me.”

He’d gotten a rare weekend free from the Syndicate, in which Hiashi likely felt bad about his leg wound while simultaneously reveling in the accomplishment of taking an Akatsuki club and killing one of their members. Sasuke later found out that the guy's name had been Deidara, a serial terrorist that had been on the federal most-wanted list for half a decade. 

It was a trick of the light when he looked at Sakura and saw a flicker of ink against her back, an image of a woman with a knife held in her mouth. He rolled over, closing his eyes, and saw the red of his eyelids stare back at him. His body hurt. The image of money gathered around the red spots and he idly reached into his pants pockets to feel the edge of the worn 5000-yen bill. 

“Merry Christmas by the way,” she said after Sasuke said nothing. She moved around her apartment like water, adjusting different items as she ran into them. Something hit him in his chest. A gift. 

“Yeah, yeah, Merry Christmas,” he replied, turning the gift around with deft fingers. It was wrapped in newspaper. He sat up and looked at her for the first time that morning, “you didn’t have to get me anything.”

Sakura rolled her eyes, waltzing into the kitchen as pink stains began to color her cheeks. She hid behind an open cabinet. “I know,” she said. “Want coffee?”

"Sure,” Sasuke said. He was frowning, thinking deeply about something, and holding the unopened gift in his palms. “If Deidara had been on a federal wanted list for years, why didn’t they go to ANBU for help?”

“I dunno,” Sakura was chewing on something absently, her words coming out muffled. “Maybe they didn’t have the budget?”

“So...they didn’t have the budget to catch him, but they had one for fixing all the infrastructural damages he caused?”

“Sasuke,” he heard her sigh from within her small kitchen. The noises of her moving things around ceased suddenly. Agitated energy filled the studio. “It’s Christmas––can we not talk about work for one day?”

“Work is why I’m here,” he responded without pause.

“Okay well, can we not talk about work for two hours? Look at what’s in front of you for once!” Sakura exited the kitchen, now wearing a silk red robe he hadn’t noticed she’d put on. She held two steaming cups of coffee in either hand. Her features were arranged in anger...or hurt.

Sasuke looked down at his half-opened gift. He nudged it open as he frowned, his hands stopping suddenly. “Sakura I––”

“Don’t, Sasuke,” she muttered. Now she looked down too, into the depths of the coffee. “I know I’m not-––I know. Just let me pretend for one day. I don’t get to pretend very often, okay?”

“I know,” he said. He looked around the apartment for what felt like the first time since he’d arrived. He got there the night before, near midnight when Sakura led him to her bed without so much as turning on the lights. I want to be held , he remembered her asking, while you fuck me.

Sasuke realized his grave error after it was too late. Now that it was morning and he could look around the apartment with clarity, rather than the lust-ridden haze that transfixed him last night. He noticed a few key things: her desk was clear, her guns were tucked away, and her laundry was done. 

Had she...cleaned up for him? He finished unwrapping the gift to reveal a small gold chain with a tiny fan attached––it mimicked the Uchiha insignia with minute detail. If he wore it around his neck, the charm would disappear around his collar. 

He was stunned, staring at the chain with wide eyes in a way that was so unlike his usual demeanor that Sakura ducked back into the kitchen, leaving his cup of coffee on the floor beside him. He held it gingerly between his fingers. Cleared his throat. Cleared it again and said, “I––uh-–thank you, Sakura.”

He could pretend for her. Just for a little while.

-:-

 As they later found out, if Sasuke went into the office, Sakura had to, too. 

She scanned her card, her fingerprints, and her retinas with a red-faced frown as Sasuke trailed behind her, his face a mask within his literal mask. In their expressions, there was no hint at what they had spent hours doing on a Christmas morning after Sakura had all but guilt-tripped him into staying. 

Coffee gone cold and cigarettes smoked down to ash, Sakura collected her discarded robe from the floor with a sullen pout when she realized it was time to go.

When they entered her office, Ox was already there, looking through mountain piles of material. Without pause, Sasuke launched into story, describing the dynamics of the Hyuga Syndicate while Sakura took steady notes on her tablet. He described the layout of the Estate, the secretiveness of the Affair, and the initiation process with a light tongue––offering this information like it meant nothing to him. Until...

“Well, what about this daughter?” Ox said impatiently when Sasuke finished his report. “Does she have a role in the day-to-day?”

When Sasuke paused––his speech halted against his will––he felt Sakura’s eyes on him. They seemed to dissect the pause and the hesitance like they wanted to pry open the tongue and spill the secrets onto the ground for her and Ox to behold.

But he had no secrets, and he didn’t know why he paused. Perhaps, his only error was being attracted to Hinata––which he hadn’t allowed himself to admit until this point. It was easy to be attracted to her and her quiet enduring power, her rosy cheeks, and the slow and sure way she chose her words. It was easy to see why someone could glimpse the art on her back and want to see more.

Sakura was still staring. Sasuke made up for his pause by pretending to be in thought and saying, “Not that I’ve noticed, but I haven’t gotten to interact with her. The only thing I know for sure is that she does initiation tattoos.”

The urge to lie had snuck out of him so easily that he almost believed himself. He’d have to process this later when two sets of eyes weren’t focused on his intelligence report. 

Ox didn’t doubt him, or at least, didn’t show it outwardly. “Okay fine. Tell us about the Foreign Car Garage.”

Sasuke launched into story once again, and once again left out a detail featuring the glass of liquor, and the yen, and the Uchiha fan tattoo. It wasn’t unusual that he left out details of reports, choosing to obscure them until he figured out what to do or acquire more substantial information, but it was odd that he was doing it seemingly for no reason. At least, in the Hyuga Princess’s case. He felt like he wanted to keep her private like she was a puzzle he wanted to figure out himself. Once he did, ANBU could delight in all the information they wanted. 

The Uchiha was good at his job, so almost no one questioned him after Sakura closed her tablet and Ox stood to leave the room. Ox gave him a couple of stern pats on his back, telling him to “hang in there” and “not to lose his head.”

He did not tell her, or Sakura for that matter, that he already felt as if he was losing it. Being thrust into a world so much like the one he’d been raised in for the first nine years of his young life was seriously fucking with his head. His dreams had been worse than normal, often clawing him back to sleep and flinging him into a darkness so robust he’d wake with his heart leaping from his chest.

He saw the Hyuga’s eyes and was reminded of the gunshots. When he stepped onto the tatami mats of the Affair room, his throat constricted with memory.

Here was one: His father sitting at a dining table, a silver ink pen in hand as his mother shucked peas into a dish. He was seven. The doors were open to the acres of land that existed behind their home; the compound felt compacted by sun. Sasuke reveled in it as he sat still beside his father. He was explaining something. 

“There is an ancient scratching technique we use,” Fugaku was saying. Incense filled the air and Sasuke felt himself sit taller, tracing the smoke’s path with his gaze. “to send each other messages. It dates back to the Time of the Shinobi. I want you to learn it.”

Sasuke watched with wide eyes as his father flipped the pen over and exposed the silver edge of a small knife. Before them lay several pieces of paper. With small, meticulous movements, Fugaku began to scratch the paper, each line so different yet so small, that Sasuke could barely see them.  

“Only the blood know this,” his father continued, the scratching making soft noises of paper being sliced. It comforted Sasuke and he rested his chubby cheek upon his hand, his eyelashes catching sun as they fluttered with interest.

“The blood?”

Fugaku nodded, “Yes. We who are born Uchiha. Not everyone who is in the Uchiha Syndicate is of Uchiha blood, and so not everyone in the Uchiha Syndicate is 100% trustworthy. It is the blood, and only the blood, you trust with your life.”

“Okay,” Sasuke said. His finger rubbed the marked grooves now in the paper. “I’ll only trust scratches from you and ‘tachi.”

“And mommy,” Mikoto hummed, noncommittally preparing food. “I know how to scratch, too. And you came from me .”

Fugaku said nothing, but a small smile intoned his features. They all settled in nicely around the wooden table, their chairs padded with deep red cushions, their glasses cool with iced juices. Fugaku was a rare picture of soft edges as he taught his youngest son how to decode the markings, introducing him to an entire universe of symbols and secret alphabets. The blood would carry Sasuke forward, the code would show him the way.

Sasuke jolted out of memory when Sakura asked to find dinner after the meeting––a task she said might not reach fruition given the holiday. “Ox told me that Ramen Shack is probably open,” she said as she logged out of her various interfaces and locked them with long streams of numbers. “I liked their broth––you know? The fish one with all the garlic and scallions? Honestly, I feel like you can’t get broth that good in Konoha, one good thing about being here, I guess––”

She was talking a lot because she was nervous. After Sasuke received the gift, they’d had sex again––the gratuitous and indulgent kind that left the muscles aching after––but he hadn’t put on the necklace. Not even after they’d showered and finally eaten. He hadn’t put it on after they pulled their shoes on, hanging their masks inside of their jackets. He did not leave with it on. 

Instead, he pocketed it, thanking her. His tone was kind and gracious, appreciative, even. But he didn’t know what to make of the gift or of their relationship, and Sakura evidently did not know what to make of his blase response. 

And perhaps, also their relationship.

“Ramen Shack is fine,” he assured her distractedly. “I’ll meet you there. I need to pick up a new hoister and some clips.”

This much was true: he wanted a holster that fit tighter around his chest––but there was something else he wanted to do before that. 

-:-

“Nuh-uh.” Tenten chastised as she took in Hinata’s downcast facial expression. “We don't have time for that today.”

They were in the kitchen preparing Christmas dinner; busy seasoning, baking, frying, and tossing various foods around. The whole kitchen smelled like rosemary, lemon, garlic, and butter, but the tantalizing smells were not enough to distract Hinata from her own forlorn thoughts. Christmas was just about her least favorite holiday.

It did not help that her birthday fell two days later. She thought grumpily about turning 21 and how instead of resting like she wanted, her father had given her a job to do. 

“Sorry,” she grumbled as she pulled her fist out of the inside of a whole chicken. She began to fill the hole with stuffing. Beside her, Hanabi was slicing onions, her lips twisted and just as sour. 

“Don’t be sorry,” Hanabi countered as she pressed the knife down so hard it made a sound. Hinata winced, poor knife . Then she picked it up and pointed it at Tenten saying, “ You don’t understand what it’s like.”

Tenten raised both eyebrows, her hands gravitating to her hips as she swiveled, “ I don’t understand? Me? The resident orphan of the Syndicate?”

“Hey now, I think there’s room for multiple resident orphans, don’t ya think?”

Their heads swiveled to see Shenji standing in the doorway, a smile fixed on his face. He was assigned a post at the Estate for Christmas, which typically meant that he’d be doing nothing at all. Those who were closest, or directly under Hiashi merely waited around for orders, acted as security, and had the luxury of eating good food. 

Shenji had that great luxury today: joining them for Christmas dinner. Traditionally, Hinata, Hanabi, and Tenten rolled up their sleeves to create something delicious, covering their meals with garnish, butter, and savory ingredients. It started as a small thing between Hinata and Hanabi that they quickly folded Tenten into, once they learned that she liked to cook and usually spent holidays alone. 

Holidays had been Aoki’s thing. It was the only thing she commanded over their father––often forcing him to have off days to spend with his children. She’d decorate the halls with string lights and garland, and spent hours picking the perfect batch of Christmas trees to distribute throughout the Estate. She’d sequester help from Hinata and Hanabi, asking them their opinions on ornaments and their placements, color schemes, and lighting arrangements. 

“Only if you help cook,” Tenten chided, rolling her eyes. “These two are being fucking depressing like they’re the only people here with dead moms.”

If possible, Hinata’s face soured more and Hanabi’s knife came upon the cutting board as if she were trying to slice it in half. But then Hinata remembered her task and felt her frown slide off of her face with ease. When she smiled, it was with pointed hesitancy, “Y-you’re welcome to join...if you want.”

“Sure,” Shenji said enthusiastically. He dropped his bag on the floor, washed his hand, and stood in front of Hinata like an excited puppy. He was pretty cute, after all. Just like Hanabi had said last week, both men were attractive in their own right.

Shenji had an open face and eyes that mimicked the sky on its best day. Sasuke was a much more gothic handsome, his shoulders proud and stiff, his eyes dark and enduring, the bridge of his long straight nose. His face was angular, and he tilted his head ever so slightly when he spoke to her. He was a heart-stopping alternative to Shenji, who was readily tying an apron around his waist.

He stood in front of Hinata, a smile gracing his features, “what do you want me to do, boss?”

Her cheeks went red. She directed him to an additional chopping board and they stood side-by-side as he smashed garlic with the side of a knife. Every once in a while, his arm brushed hers and he looked down at her, smiling apologetically.

“He has Golden Retriever energy,” Ino had told her last week after she’d seen Hinata and him talking after his initiation. Suggestively, she said, “He could be good for you.”

“Y-you know I’m not looking,” Hinata replied, red-faced. They stood together in the bathroom. This was after Hinata’s charged conversation with Sasuke. When he walked away from her, she seemed to deflate in her chair––all the air leaving her body as if she’d been holding it the whole time, and had just popped. 

If Ino had seen her speaking to Sasuke, Hinata wondered what Ino would say. Instead, Ino rolled her eyes. She brushed her lipstick across her mouth, smacking her lips together a couple of times before saying, “You’re going to be 21 next week. You’re going to have to get over what happened with Gaara someday.”

Ino was one of the few people who knew, and still, Hinata had not told her about him approaching her at the Affair. Hinata wrapped her arms around her bare shoulders, shaking her head. “Of c-course I will,” she agreed. She was anxious but she kept her tone stern, “b-but Ino...I have...I have to do it on my own time. “

“Yeaaaah,” Ino agreed, nodding her head facetiously, “and why not rebound? It doesn’t have to be a serious relationship or anything.” She tossed her hair, some of it hitting Hinata in the face.  “I mean, you had the guy trailing after you all night. Everyone noticed!”

“I’ll t-think about it,” Hinata conceded. Once again, she was saying anything to diffuse the conversation.

 Her long conversation with Shenji (over many drinks) had been overly casual; getting to know him, where he came from and where he planned to go. His responses had been normal. When asked where he came from, he said West Konoha (poor). When asked where he wanted to be he said East Konoha (wealthy). When asked about his education he said he barely had any. When asked about what he did before this he said, strangely, weed cultivation. 

Hinata said, “t-that’s oddly specific..”

He shrugged, “I really like weed. I got an opportunity to work on a farm out in the country last year, so I took it.”

Hinata asked, “U-Uchiha, too?”

Shenji shook his head, “Nah, I think he was doing other shit.” Vague. “The farm I worked at got shut down, so I came back to Konoha and crashed on his couch. One thing led to another, and now we’re here.”

“A-and by ‘one thing leading’...y-you mean the Akatsuki tip?”

“I guess,” Shenji scratched his cheek awkwardly. “I mean, we just needed money. You’ve never been poor before, have you?”

She changed the subject. 

Now Shenji was making casual banter, riddling her cheeks bright pink as he made fun of his own cutting skills, talking about how he couldn’t season a dish well if his life was on the line. Spices were an enigma to him, and herbs were entire constellations of confusion. 

“Here you go,” he said when he finished with his garlic. Hinata instructed him to cover the chicken with it so that the meat would suck in its flavor. He leaned over as he placed each handful, his tongue sticking out in concentration.

He is definitely cute , Hinata decided as she watched him, her eyes keen on the earnest look on his face. When she thought of Shenji, she thought of Sasuke too for whatever reason, and how his heavy gaze routinely disarmed her.

Though Shenji made her feel safe in some ways, she still did not trust him and could not break through his shining exterior. But when she looked at Sasuke, and a cold warning shot through her belly, she knew––like she knew the back of her hand––that all of their interactions were real. 

When she spoke to Shenji, there was nothing there. No passion, no proclivities, no motivations. But when she spoke to Sasuke, the room filled with tepid heat as if he were made of a fog that was meant to obscure.

Perhaps her father had her studying the wrong man, after all. 

-:-

“Hey,” Sakura sounded relieved after Sasuke entered her apartment well after midnight. She stood abruptly from her desk, her eyes heavy with tired, her hair sticking out in multiple directions as if she had been forcing herself awake. “What happened to you? I was waiting at Ramen Shack for like, an hour.”

She sounded angry, which was fair. Sasuke had all but ditched her––getting lost in his work within the labs and equipment rooms for so long that time had slipped away from him completely. 

“Yeah, sorry,” Sasuke said quietly as he shrugged off his boots and jacket and placed them into a corner that he frequently claimed. “I was going to leave, but Ox asked me to draw a blueprint sketch of the Hyuga Estate and the Foreign Car Garage.”

He was lying, but he did sketch the blueprints for alibi and filed them away for later use.

“That took you five hours?” Sakura’s eyebrows rose into her hairline. 

Sasuke just looked at her with a long, impatient look that said are you my keeper now? The blurring lines of their relationship had her asking questions that, months ago, would not have come from her mouth. They were teammates second, agents first. And agents mostly liked to work alone.

She was undeterred, “Don’t look at me like that. I mean––we had plans!”

“Plans change,” Sasuke said, his voice low and edging on annoyance. A headache was blooming over his temporal lobe. In the lab, he slid the yen under a telescope, watching as scratch marks slowly appeared under the lens. He recorded the markings in his journal superstitiously, as if possessed by the action. 

Luckily, he’d chosen an empty lab. A quiet spot with no windows and no people. He looked and looked and looked. He checked and double-checked the bill. He rubbed it in his hands. He looked down at his notebook and back at the bill, making sure that every single marking matched up. 

He wasn’t making it up. These were Uchiha scratches.

He broke into a sweat, trying to think himself into remembrance. What did a sideways slash denote? What about the character that looked like an upside-down cross? What of the circle, the wide-open u shape, the left-angled dash?

He thought briefly that he’d have a stroke trying to translate this message. As his memory deepened, his emotions tsunamied. He thought of his mother’s touch on the back of his head, his father’s stern voice as he gave instruction, leaning over Sasuke as he pointed to a mistake here or there. He thought of his brother who smiled as he watched his learning, saying “You’ll be the best of us yet, little brother.”

So no, it wasn’t possible for Sasuke to meet Sakura for dinner. It didn’t matter to him that it was Christmas––he’d just unlocked one of the most important and secretive joys of his life. As he translated, it was like a mother tongue had been returned to him and the loss of it––the loss of his parents and his brother––left a heavy feeling settling in the pits of his stomach. 

He translated the message as his head pounded, his synapses firing rapidly with memory, plans, and...hope.

It took him three hours to piece together the code. When he wrote it down in his journal, he nodded quietly to himself, tore the page into tiny pieces, and burned it on the steel table. His forehead was beaded with sweat, his hands were shaking. He had never felt so out of control of his body in his entire lifetime. 

He left the lab in a daze. He went to the gym. He worked out for three hours without stopping, his mind racing. 

Sakura was tapping her foot with agitation in front of him, though her dominating expression was hurt. Her mouth trembled. Her stance was unsure as she looked at him. 

Then the moment passed: her expression fell away from her face, masking into one of professionalism. When Sasuke had ditched her, the lines that they had slowly started to erase with time and loneliness redrew themselves. There was a boundary, and it was back in the place where it belonged. 

“You’re right,” Sakura agreed, her tone neutral. She allowed a tight expression, but that was all. “I shouldn’t have assumed and I’m sorry.”

“No need to apologize,” Sasuke said professionally. He, too, wore a tight expression when they looked at each other. He went to gather his things, his movements sharp and unapologetic as he grabbed his bag and slung it across his shoulders. “I should’ve been more straightforward.”

“You were clear enough today. That’s all that is necessary.”

Sasuke nodded, grateful that Sakura was skilled enough to say two things at once. He put on his shoes quickly and quietly. When his hand wrapped around the doorknob, Sakura surprised him:

She let him go. She said nothing as she shut the door behind her with a solid, confident, click. 

Sasuke drove back to Konoha in silence. When he drove, he did not think of what had just ended between him and Sakura. He did not think of his Holiday with ANBU at all. He simply repeated numbers in his head in a long stream, barely taking his eyes off the road or allowing any distracting thoughts. He had successfully uncoded the scratches, and he was left with a series of numbers. 

21.89328, -35.03072: 01.02 12:00

Coordinates. In a few of short days, Sasuke would reunite with his brother. And no one could know about it. 

Chapter Text

Things began to happen very quickly after the Akatsuki club had been taken over and then set on fire. Though it had only been a few days, Uncles and Aunties of the Syndicate appeared in and out of the Estate as if pushed through by a revolving door. 

Hinata had to deal with the bulk of the greeting and organizing, while also sitting in on meetings per her father’s request. The hallway outside of the Affair room was, at times, full of shoes and coats. If she were to step out into the interior garden, she could smell the spicy scent of her father’s cigar smoke floating through the paper doors. 

Shenji was stationed at the front at almost all hours of the day, while Sasuke took the rear and occasionally sat in the back of the Affair room. His position was transitional: wherever he was needed, but mostly, he was additional security to her father. 

When Hinata got a break between meetings, tattooing, and sleeping, she would sneak to the front of the Estate and leave Shenji small plates of food: a peeled orange here, a slice of lemon bread there, a cup of steaming green tea for the cold and late nights.

He slowly began to understand these gestures for something more than mere comradery Slower than she thought. Once, at midnight, when she stepped outside to share a joint with him, he told her a story about the first time he’d smoked weed and had become so anxious that life was a simulation that he jumped into a nearly-frozen lake nearby to “shock my system to restart.”

It only resulted in hypothermia. They laughed quietly with their shoulders rolling, trying not to wake anyone or draw attention to themselves. He touched the small of her back one time, her hand, another. When her cheeks pinkened pleasantly, predictably, he brushed a knuckle across them––surprising them both with the sweetness of that gesture.

“Do you l-like it here?” She found herself asking one day after she’d snuck out from a meeting in search of food for her lowering blood sugar. She escaped outside with two bowls of lukewarm rice, which she had hastily covered in sesame oil, seeds, and bright green onions. Shenji was walking the perimeter, whistling idly, when he spotted her.

Snow crunched under their footfall. It was five days after Christmas and they had gotten 3 inches overnight. The sun was not yet even fully risen. Shenji yawned as he accepted the bowl, his thanks a gracious and enduring smile in her direction. His eyes were piercing blue that always felt striking when turned on her. In these moments Hinata pretended like it was all real. There were parts of her that missed romance. She replayed what Ino had said––repeatedly, now––at the initiation. Move on . You’re grown now. 

“Yeah, it’s cool,” Shenji said with a mouth full of food. “You Hyuga sure know how to live it up.”

That was where interactions typically went sour for her. Whenever she tried to ask a genuine, and perhaps, deep question, his answer was subpar––if not boring. It was like he was set on making perpetual small talk, spinning her question into other questions, or nothing at all. He chose instead to make comments about basic observations which touched on class disparity, but whenever Hinata tried to dig beneath that he would say something like, you wouldn’t understand how it was before .

“I’ve got my first job tonight,” he said, surprising her. “You know...besides this. Wish me luck?”

“O-of course!” She said immediately. “I didn’t know you were g-going out. Who will you be with?”

She tried to recall her father mentioning it, but he hadn’t. Though he told her many things, he didn’t tell her everything, so she thought better of asking Shenji more questions about it outside of that.

“Kiba,” he scratched his cheek as if deep in remembering. “And uh...that guy with the ponytail.”

“Neji?”

“No, I know him,” he shook his head smiling, “obviously. No, it sticks straight up. Lazy guy––”

“O-Oh Shikamaru,” Hinata said. “T-that’s a good group, you will be in good hands. Good luck, S-Shenji-san. A-and please be careful.”

“I’m more careful than you know,” he said cheerfully.

When she was quiet, he gently pushed a piece of hair behind her ear and grinned at her. The incoming sun hit his unbearably white smile just right. He’s been doing this lately, giving her an underwhelming response and surprising her with an overwhelming gesture. 

They ate and then she parted with their bowls stacked and held tightly against her stomach. His response left her feeling off-center. Suspicion grew deeper, its roots encircling her every step until she was back inside, in the warmth, her cheeks just as red. She mulled over this strange gesture as she navigated to the kitchen until her body collided with a solid structure that turned out to be Uchiha Sasuke. 

“Careful there, Hyuga princess,” he said, his voice a lithe and smooth sound that curled around her entire body. He placed his hand under the bowls, steadying them as they clanked against each other in their distress. He was so close. “Where are you going so fast?”

His eyes peered behind her, seemingly looking beyond the front entrance where Shenji paced, before turning back to her. His eyes gave nothing away. She rotated around him, removing his hand from the ceramics, and walking on. “Kitchen,” she said. 

He made her anxious. Both men did. He followed, despite her tone, plucking the bowls out of his hand in an act of extreme, or comical, smug chivalry. “I can see that.”

They hadn’t truly spoken since the night he’d come in with a stab wound and Hinata showed him her back tattoo. That instance of vulnerability, in which she’d let her guard down, embarrassed her deeply. She hadn’t told anyone about it. Instead, she avoided him like a plague. It wasn’t like it was hard to do these days when meetings and security shifts filled their schedules. Hinata could easily go 24 hours without talking to very many people at all.

“I’m not following you for no reason,” he said after their combined long silences. He placed the bowls gently into the sink and then straightened them. “I just don’t have details. We’ve got a job today, don’t we?”

In which I promised to show you more skin , Hinata thought darkly, wincing to herself as she remembered that fateful conversation where she’d exposed herself to his delirious, barely stitched together gaze. Okay, so he wasn’t delirious at all. She just wished he had been.

“I’ll tell y-you in the car,” the words oozed out of her. She had spent the entire morning––which wasn’t a very long time considering it was only 8 am––trying to forget about this damn mission, in which she would be forced to have a conversation with her ex-boyfriend. 

She scratched her skin thinking about Gaara and the hows and whys of secretive, coordinated meetings, and the reason drops offs couldn’t just come to their front door. Too much of a liability , everyone said. Hinata felt as if she was the one taking all the hits. It felt pretty fucking personal. She bit the skin off her thumb and was surprised to see a pearl of blood. Damn. She was more anxious than she thought. 

Sasuke watched her without an expression as she hid her hand behind her back, pressing the bloody tip of her finger into her T-shirt. “We’ll l-leave at 6,” she finally answered. “I’ll drive.”

Sasuke said nothing again, just nodded. Hinata took that as a dismissal, so she gathered her coat and headed for the door with red burning skin. She felt out of sorts like she desperately needed to disappear back into bed. She worried that when she closed her eyes, she’d see Gaara beneath them.

“Oh, Hyuga,” Sasuke called casually as she walked out the door, his voice like a sprite that crawled up your sides and into your ears. “Happy belated birthday.”

Her ears burned. 

-:-

“Seems excessive,” Sasuke was saying, reclining in the passenger seat of a cream-colored G-wagon that he seemed silently impressed by, upon first sighting it. Hinata kept her eyes on the road, driving steadily down the expressway. “Do you Hyugas always go in a circle before getting anything done?”

“P-people watch the Estate. People watch the laundromat, Yamanaka Flowers, a n-number of places. It’s better that retrievals are d-done away from these locations. Meeting points, e-espcially public ones, can be private too.”

She had just finished explaining that they were to pick up materials from Suna and negotiate the terms of their newest deal. Hinata had the Hyuga conditions and asks on the tip of her tongue and it felt heavy with her remembering. The night before, she sat for hours in her father’s dark office, inhaling his smoke, as he detailed their plans for the next couple of weeks. Apparently, taking the Akatsuki club was not enough. 

Everyone, including Suna, wanted to run them out of town for good. 

“Hm,” Sasuke just hummed, his tone seemingly disbelieving. Hinata only wished she had time to tell him about the men who approached her, taking her out on dates just to get into the Estate or plant bugs on her. The fact that she, a mostly hidden Hyuga daughter, had appeared on some of these people’s radars was reason enough to believe that there were eyes on the Hyuga Syndicate. “Whatever. Seems simple enough––we talk to Gaara, exchange our shit, and leave?”

Hinata nodded as images of Gaara filled his brain again. She shook them away frightfully as she skillfully navigated her car through the back alley and parked in a small square of pavement beside a gleaming black Benz. Hinata winced at the sight of it thinking, he’s here . Gaara had bought himself that car towards the end of their relationship and she remembered, with a flash, the feeling of her face being shoved against its cream leather seats. 

She exhaled forcefully, dissipating the images with her breath. She would have to see him soon enough. Sasuke quietly watched her from his seat, an eyebrow raised, but she ignored him. Hopping out of the car with a leap, her ears were hot with anxiety.

In front of them was the bathhouse where they would meet Gaara. It was an incredibly urban-looking building, with gleaming concrete walls painted white, and large windows with white curtains obscuring the rooms inside. They were at the back entrance, where a fake potted Birds of Paradise plant stood in front of modern black text painted on the building to read: THE COMMON BATHHOUSE

 It wasn't her first choice. It wasn’t even her last fucking choice. In fact, Hiashi told her that it was entirely Suna's choice. Apparently, the bathhouse was affiliated with the Suna family, making it one of the safest and most convenient places to do the trade. Gaara chose the location, knowing there was a chance she would be there. Fucking asshole. 

Sasuke was looking at her with both eyebrows raised now. She realized idly that she’d been standing there staring at the wall for a period of time that edged on inappropriate. He said, “Are you okay?”

“O-of course, why wouldn't I be?” The words were forced through teeth and she hoped he hadn’t noticed.

If he did, he didn’t bring it up, instead opening the back door and gesturing her through. The back area was a storage room full of modern gray concrete and bamboo furnishings. An attendant spotted them immediately and ushered them through a set of flapping doors. The lights changed from the bright ultraviolet of working space to a dim hum of relaxation. 

She was an older woman with frizzled orange hair pushed into a bun at the back of her head. Forcefully, she pushed them into a private room with her hands waving wildly. “Quickly! Gaara-sama is here and expecting you. He says he doesn’t have long.”

“Um––d-do you have sep...separate c-changing rooms?” Hinata suddenly felt frantic after being pushed into this weird, luxury locker room where the tiled floor gleamed dark green and the chairs were padded with velvet. The mirror was 10 feet tall and a money tree beside it attempted its height and stopped short at half. 

“No time!”

“––b-but why?”

“This is fine,” Sasuke’s voice cut out patiently. “Thank you, ma’am. We’ll find you when we’re ready for Gaara-sama.” 

The woman closed the door. Hinata stared at Sasuke in complete dismay, turning words over in her mouth as if she were trying to figure out the most polite way to ask him what the fuck?

The room was small and cool. Sasuke reached over and locked the door with a click. “Don’t look at me like that,” he said, though Hinata didn’t know she was making any sort of face other than complete dread. “I’m going to turn around and get undressed, okay? I’m wearing a swimsuit under my clothes. What about you?”

“M-me too,” she answered, turning suddenly as if he had already started disrobing. He hadn’t. To her dismay, when she turned there was yet another tall mirror, which reflected the first one. She could still see him! She wanted to cry.

“Fine, I’ll go first. Close your eyes if you want,” Sasuke said. Hinata wanted to feel grateful but his voice was a smile. She gnashed her eyes shut as she heard clothing rustle. Sasuke’s shirt was a push of air around her shoulders. “How are you so squeamish, Hyuaga princess, if you’re a tattoo artist? Sure you’ve seen more than this.”

His shoes came off, then his pants. She felt him move around her, grabbing the slippers, little maroon piece of plastic, and sliding them on. The hair on her arm rose. “It's...it’s um, different,” she said. “It’s professional. It’s about context.”

“I’m done, you can open your eyes. Besides,” Sasuke said. Hinata did and found herself looking right into the mirror, finding Sasuke’s shirtless, pantless, form standing behind her. His swim trunks were black but relatively normal. Still, her eyes paused for a long moment on his form before she looked away, abruptly turning red. “Is this not professional?” Sasuke asked. 

“T-turn around and close your eyes,” Hinata said instead of answering. Once he did as asked, she made quick work of taking off her blue jeans and sweater, revealing a deep eggplant-colored bikini set that she would not have chosen for herself. After revealing the job and its description to Hanabi and Ino, all of her sacred one-piece suits had miraculously gone missing. She didn’t find out until that morning, almost tearing her room to pieces in her anxiety.

When she looked at herself in the mirror her face was what she noticed first––her cheeks inflamed completely––she looked like a red balloon. She wanted to cover up, but at least her dragon could be seen and the sight of it calmed her. Her dragon tattoo dipped around her stomach with a swirl, its body long and delicate as it wrapped the side of her body to completion on her back. He breathed fire with an open mouth down below her waistline and you could see the fire reach completion at her left thigh. Around the dragon, red flowers bloomed. This tattoo had been the most daring thing Hinata had ever done, and it was because of Gaara that she’d gotten it.

She was at her weakest and she needed to feel brave. Maybe the bikini was good for something. She sucked in a breath.

Then released it hard when she remembered Sasuke was still in the room. He was still as he watched her in the mirror, his gaze on the head of the dragon, right where it lived on the right side of her stomach. When he noticed her looking at him, he tore his gaze away, looking neutrally into her eyes which somehow made her feel even more uneasy. This cool room was suddenly hot, and she barely heard him when he said, “So this is what you meant when you said––”

There was knocking at the door. The old woman. “L-let’s just go.” Hinata said. 

-:-

Gaara sat in a private pool all the way in the back of the room. 

On the way there, they wove their way through showers, individual tubs, and community pools. It wasn’t crowded, but it wasn’t empty either. Hinata surveyed the room as they walked towards the private room, counting each head she saw and noting all of the exits. Despite her disdain for the location, bathhouses were common places to meet and talk. Because you had to wear a swimsuit, there was no possible way you could harness a weapon, or a wire, and get away with it.    

The old woman instructed them through a door at the end of the room. Before Hinata pushed it open, she did one more sweep of the room. Then, her heart got stuck in her throat. Sitting in a hot tub across the room, there was Suigetsu, the white-haired man from over a month ago who had wined and dined her and finally, wired her coat. She felt bile slowly make its way up her throat.

What was he doing there? And could she be sure that he was doing anything at all? She gave his general direction 15 more seconds: He was with a woman with red hair, laughing in a shared hot tub. They were drinking whisky out of small glasses. She was sitting on his lap, facing him as they both threw their heads back and laughed. 

Okay, so he’s on a date , Hinata reasoned with herself as she willed herself to look away. He probably didn’t even see me. 

But Hyuga did not believe in mere coincidence. 

“You okay?” Sasuke asked when he saw Hinata pause with her hand on the door. He noticed too much. His body was a warm radiating hub of energy behind him. Already, they had brushed skin thrice. 

“Yeah I-I just...thought I s-aw someone I know,” she said quietly back. She pushed the door open and there Gaara was. 

He was submerged in the water, leaning back against the wall. Behind him light seeped in from the overhead windows, casting him in a golden glow. He was framed by warm-toned bricks and expansive fern plans, looking more like a serpent in a tropical river than a man. When he spotted Sasuke and Hinata he didn’t rise, he merely beckoned them forward with a hand. 

Hinata stepped into the pool, letting the water calm her hot body. Gaara’s piercing gaze never changed, even after both of them had their separate metamorphosis as the years passed. He hungrily ate in her body, his eyes tracing the lines of her tattoo in every direction that pulled her torso. He hardly looked at Sasuke who had waded into the water after her. 

“I hope Hiashi-san does not intend disrespect,” Gaara began. “I assumed he’d send a higher up.”

Hinata felt her ears flame in anger. She kept her hands still under the water, though she wanted nothing more than to twist them together in her anxiety. “He...he did,” Hinata said. “He sent me.”

“Fair enough,” the Suna king said, gesturing away her words with a hand. “And yet he expects the Uchiha brat to play security.”

“We’re partners,” Hinata spoke for Sasuke, her voice smoothed and without fear. Though she was trembling at the admissions, her words shaking through her stutter had not leaked out of her yet. “Not that t-that’s your business.”

Sasuke sat against the wall behind her, creating a casual distance between himself and Gaara. Hinata was in the middle, for the most part, and took on the energy of negotiation. 

“Partners?” Gaara questioned. He shook a cigarette out of a carton that laid poolside and lit it in a fluid motion, filling the room with heavy tobacco smoke. 

Hinata chose not to elaborate. “T-tell me a-about the shipment.”

“My how you’ve grown,” Gaara said, instead. His tone was as lifeless and as flat as it always had been. His eyes were still on her body. She felt them settle on her breasts and flicker lower and then back up. She watched him do this several times feeling as if she wasn’t able to crawl into her body and protect herself from him. Her skin felt like an open wound––an entire organ of sustained trauma. 

Sasuke made a sound then, an annoying ticking sound like he had clicked his tongue against his teeth. He stood up and the water swirled around his body in ripples. His hand brushed her arms and sparks went up it. He said, “Why don’t we save the pleasantries for our daydreams, huh? She asked about the shipment.”

Gaara smoked idly, cocking his head to the side as if thinking deeply. He didn’t address Sasuke at all when he said, “It was received without problem last week. Payment is being transferred as we speak.”

“D-did the stock level suffice?” Hinata was grateful he let the subject drop without a hiccup. One thing about Gaara was that he knew when to handle business, and how to handle it. Fickle matters could be put on hold until after. 

“It was fine,” he said impassively. “We’ll need the tiger’s share next week if you want weapons next time, though. We’ve heard you have guys who cook it good, maybe even better than those Akatsuki freaks.”

This made her ear twitch. Apparently, Sasuke’s did too: “What exactly do you know about the Akatsuki?”

Gaara put his cigarette out by extinguishing it in a puddle of water beside the pool. “Let’s take this conversation to the steam room.”

-:-

It was dark in the steam room as clouds of moisture filled the room and obscured them all from view. Hinata sat beside Sasuke with a stiff back, feeling his heat for comfort before the next puff would enter and render them all invisible. 

“The payment is complete,” Gaara said from somewhere to the left of her, “by the way. When can I expect the tiger?”

“Tigers aren’t e-easy to come b-by,” Hinata grumbled. This wasn’t what her father told her to negotiate. Tigers were rare. In fact, they’d only ever traded a tiger’s worth in drugs once in their history as a Syndicate. It was when she was kidnapped, and her father needed leverage against Orochimaru. He gave the tiger to the Uchihas in a rare alliance after Hinata had been recovered. It was their way of repaying the debt. At the time, Uchihas had the information that they needed.

“Especially not without the right information,” Sasuke intoned. Hinata wondered if he truly knew what it meant to give a tiger, or if he had been too young at the time to understand.  “Don’t change the subject. Tell us what you know.”

Hinata heard Gaara shift, putting one leg over another. Then there was a sharp metal sound and a small flame within the steam. Gaara’s face was illuminated so briefly, but he vanished into a puff of heavy smoke. Hinata jumped and Sasuke, for just a moment, touched her leg to assure her that he was still there. The smell of tobacco filled the small room. 

“I know very little,” Gaara admitted, though it sounded like he didn’t want to. “A distant cousin went rogue three years ago, just after I was named Father. We didn’t think it mattered––didn’t track him down. He was loyal to my father and angry that we didn’t retaliate after Baki.”

Hinata felt her stomach churn. Surely this cousin did not know what had been done to her after Baki was killed by her uncle. The smell of tobacco began to make her feel sick. Perhaps she would vomit. 

“He thought I was weak for not taking a Hyuga. He said I wasn’t fit to be a Father––I’m sure others agreed, but at the time I was just a stupid kid who was in love with one of them. Maybe if I had more self-respect, I’d be telling a different story.” 

He made one of them sound like the nastiest, most rotten fruit at the bottom of a barrel. Hinata felt her stomach churn again, slapping her fingers over her mouth as if to stop vomit from spewing. She told herself she was brave as she remembered the feeling of his hands shoving her down, his mouth at her ear, his voice laced in anger, and she swallowed it all. She swallowed the vomit back down her throat as more mist covered the room. The wall behind her was warm when she straightened. She was lucky no one could see her cry. 

Sasuke shifted beside her. He had long since moved his hand which had been a surprising small comfort to her, and slammed it against the bench like he was angry. “Why don’t you stick to the story you’re telling now?” He glowered. “It would be good to remember that you are asking us for something, Suna.”

Gaara made no sound, he just blew out smoke. He didn’t acknowledge him, instead speaking in a dry tone: “My cousin was rightfully upset, is all I’m saying, and that’s why I allowed him to get away with leaving. I’m a graceful Father, you see,” his tone was amiable, mocking. “We found out recently that he has joined the Akatsuki. His name is Sasori. We’ve got eyes on him as recently as last week.”

“Does my Father know?” Hinata asked. 

“You’re the first Hyuga to hear it,” Gaara said. “Think of it as a privilege, Hinata, that I trust you so much.”

The words left a weight in the air. Hinata was not sure what her next move was to be. They hadn’t discussed this. This wasn’t in the plan! And him asking for a tiger without preamble was uncalled for––that wasn’t even for her to decide. What game was he fucking playing here?

“We will take our leave now,” Sasuke’s voice came out hard and he wasn’t leaving room for debate. “We have received payment, as you stated earlier. Anything else, we welcome you to discuss with Hiashi-sama.” 

Sasuke grabbed her forearm, quietly saying in her ear, “We’ll leave our clothes. I’ll be behind you. Let’s go.”

Her hair rose at his closeness, the danger of his voice, the feeling of his torso against her. She stood as if compelled, walking quickly towards the door of the steam room.

But when she slid the door open, a figure emerged. They lept into the room with speed Hinata could not comprehend and collapsed an arm against her esophagus. Panic filtered through her, rendering her immobile. A scream hovered in her throat.

“Nobody move,” the person said as one arm held Hinata’s body in place, the other was tight around her neck. She breathed in slow movements, her diaphragm contracting against this man’s arms. His body was cold and wet on her back. “Or I break her neck.”

“Gaara what the fuck is this?” Sasuke asked slowly, his body going completely still. Gaara hadn’t moved an inch from his corner, his green eyes hard as he surveyed the situation. 

The man laughed with a sick lift to his voice. “I’m acting alone––has nothing to do with him.”

Hinata breathed low, her ears placing the voice the more he spoke. “S-suigetsu?” she wheezed in question through his hand. “W-what do you want?”

“A Hyuga prize. Just like the one Orochimaru attempted fourteen years ago,” He tightened his grip around her stomach. 

Nobody moved. Nobody spoke.

“You m-must be confused,” Hinata muttered. She did not struggle, she did not move;  all but going slack within his hold. He held her together, confiscating her motionless body in his grip, her body slippery against his wet one. 

He placed a hand over her mouth to silence her, “I’m not talking to you.”

Hinata bit down on his hand so hard that she tasted iron, her jaw working against the fragile tendons between his thumb and pointer finger. Blood squirted down her hand as he released her in shock. Then, all hell broke loose. 

Chapter Text

Hinata remembered the smell of the van before she lost consciousness. 

The peculiar scent of mothballs and something chemical would have triggered a hefty sneeze if it wasn’t for the terror seizing her muscles. One minute she was outside, walking along the stretch of strip mall businesses––the glistening grocery store, the phone store, the luxury jacuzzi outlet that her cousin suggested was a front every time they passed it together––the next, her sight all whirled into a blur as she was pulled from one reality into another. The sun did not follow her thrashing hands and reddened face. Her cheeks were bulbous and alarmed, looking as if they would fully detach from her body before she even got a chance to scream. 

It was cut short by a cloth over her face. Before falling unconscious she heard voices, startled and excited, “Oh fuck,” they said. “we've got the youngest Hyuga.”

Hinata bit hard enough to cause blood, and did not stop until his hand had torn away from her teeth. She was nothing short of movement, her arms becoming unyielding weapons as she elbowed Suigetsu in the throat before dropping to her feet briefly, to catch her breath. 

Only to find that she was barely breathing at all. Anxiety claimed her waiting form as more steam filled the room like bursts of smoke. She heard grunting above her, but every time she tried to stand, her breath came out stunted like someone was sitting on her chest and pressing their fingers into her lungs. Someone pulled her up with a tight grip. In a flash, a reflection of the door, Gaara’s cat-like eyes looked her over before depositing her on the bench. Then he disappeared back into the steam.

Hinata woke briefly when the van door slid open to reveal a cerulean sky overhead. A white-haired man carried her body like she was a ragdoll, and she played dead as if under a spell her mother had prayed for her. She remembered her words one night: if there is a situation you cannot escape, there’s nothing weak about playing dead. Deceit is its own strength. Remember that from your weary old mother, if you remember anything at all. 

Her head was a glass paperweight as the man carried her. She could not discern where she was, and could barely think through the tight ball of fear that had convalesced inside of her belly. He dropped her to the ground in a dark room. He smelled, strangely, like boiled cabbage.

“Dunno man, shouldn’t we take this one straight to the boss?” he said as he pulled out a handful of shining metal. They clanged together like music. Keys. 

“More dangerous to go back on the road with her. Hyugas will be on the hunt by now.”

“Damn,” the door opened with a squeak as one of the men stepped out of the room. Hinata saw a beam of light from a hallway window, her last look of sky for what would be seven hours, before a hand covered her nose again with the same smelly piece of fabric. A voice tickled her ears as they grabbed her shoulder: “ can’t have you screaming.”

It felt like an invisible hand was being squeezed around her throat. Hinata struggled silently with herself, with her own thoughts as memories rushed through her and rendered her silent and useless in the face of real and pressing danger. 

She tried to calm herself enough to see what was happening around her. She could hear Gaara grunting, but Sasuke was completely silent. Was he okay? Was he harmed? With her head slowly clearing from its own clouds––memories of her kidnapping suddenly surfacing like a serpent from an expansive and unknown sea––she began to feel more like herself again. Her breathing was almost normal, her vision almost clear. She stood on one wobbly foot, intending to re-insert herself in the chaos.

“Just sit down for a second,” Sasuke said as he appeared beside her. He was mostly unscathed besides a few scratches. His eyes appraised her, going up and down her body in a way that somehow did not make her feel self-conscious. He was checking for injury. At the sight of her neck, he frowned largely and looked away. Again he said, “sit, Hyuga.”

She sat. The steam had stopped for the most part. She heard Gaara fumbling around before he found a light switch, and the little wooden box became aglow with orange fluorescents. He was holding the door closed. His bottom lip dripped with blood.

“Sorry about that,” Sasuke said, nodding towards Gaara’s busted lip. “I couldn’t see who I was fighting.”

Gaara said nothing. He and Hinata both knew that that was a damn lie, but it was neither the time nor place to be upset about it. On the floor between the three of them Suigetsu lay flat, his body half-turned, his face hard against the tiled floor. Hinata peered at him from her seat, casually asking “is h-he dead?”

“Just unconscious,” Sasuke said. 

“G-good then. Father will want him back at the Estate for q-questioning.”

“No,” Gaara spoke up then, his gravel tone without room for argument. “ I’ll take him. I arranged this meeting, so I’m responsible. Please just send Hiashi my apologies for such a disruption.”

 Still, he stood by the door as if keeping watch. Hinata suddenly remembered the red-headed woman Suigestsu had been with and wondered if she was still out there, waiting for him to reappear. She wondered if the woman had been in on Suigetsu’s mission this whole time. 

“Absolutely not,” Sasuke grunted. “We don’t even know if we can trust you , Suna. He goes with us.”

“Besides,” Hinata spoke up then, her tone, though halting as she was still regulating her breath, left no room for further discussion. “I know him. I h-have history with him and he attacked me . He said he came for me . It’s my life that was in danger. Father would want to talk to him specifically. G-Gaara...you’re out of line here, as you’ve b-been out of line this entire n-night.”

When she stood, it was supposed to be with conviction, but instead, she stumbled as she was again beseeched by the memory of being trapped in a dark room by herself. She heard voices talking about her child-self from the other side of the door: if we kill her and get it over with, it will set a precedent like never before. Why hold on to the girl if we can make a statement?

Don’t be silly, Kabuto. How rash. It would be more of a statement to sell her off to the highest bidder. Hyuga have many enemies, and we’ve already gotten expensive offers. Now make haste––we don’t have very long. 

Sasuke caught her arm as she began to fall, steadying her by catching her under the armpit. Her breathing had quickened again and she rushed to calm herself. So much for being the one in charge, so much for being capable––she could barely stand up straight! There was no one speaking about her from the interiors of the bathhouse, at least not anymore. Gaara held the door tight and no one could enter if they tried. 

The Uchiha frowned at her as he placed her back onto the bench, twisting his lips as if disappointed, or disgusted with her. “Can you please just fucking sit down?” he practically barked at her. 

Again, she sat. Her head swam with tension and voices as she tried to piece everything together. Suigetsu said he was here on behalf of Orochimaru. Orochimaru had been imprisoned almost five years ago. Was it such a coincidence that Gaara would request a Tiger on the rare occasion of their meeting? But no, Suna wouldn’t dare to jeopardize their relationship with the Hyugas. It wouldn’t make sense. They have the same goals. 

So perhaps Suigetsu had targeted her after she had ghosted him. Before that, of course, he’d been a spy for some other force. Maybe he wasn’t lying––maybe he was here on behalf of the man who had kidnapped her years ago, and Gaara was as innocent as they were all confused. Could Orochimaru be operating from inside prison? If so, why was he out to get her specifically? Had he been wounded over his failure––the failure to eradicate her life as she knew it––for so long that he sought retribution from behind bars? This was obsession––no, madness!

Her head swam as the room pumped more steam, though the lights remained on. It was pulsing. When she turned her head to look at Sasuke, her neck throbbed and she winced. Gaara was still standing by the door, his face a cold mask of rage. None of them had so much as a phone or a weapon. 

“This happened at a location of my selection,” Gaara was the first to speak after a long moment. “So I will exit first and ensure your safe passage. In fact––” he looked deeply uncomfortable here but proceeded nonetheless. “As a tribute to my relationship with the Hyuga, I will bring your weapons here and personally escort you out. Afterward, I will review the security footage to see how scum like him managed to get in. I’ll send it to Hiashi-san as soon as I have it.”

Sasuke’s lip switched. He didn’t trust him, of course, he did not. “That’s not good enough. Clear the bathhouse to ensure we get out with him,” Sasuke barely looked in Suigetsu’s direction but his voice was laced with disdain, “without being noticed. We’ll wait here. In the meantime, you’ll leave us with the pocket pistol you’ve got strapped to your waistband.”

Hinata’s eyes immediately went to Gaara’s waist where there was an almost indiscernible shadow. If possible, Gaara’s expression soured even more. Between his busted lip and his weapon reveal, Sasuke was quickly undoing the pride the Suna held in his chest. Then she looked at Sasuke, who moved casually, confidently, to outstretch his hand, awaiting the weapon. 

He is a little too good , Hinata mused silently, watching the exchange of small powers. Gaara dropped the weapon with a grunt and left the room without a word. Hinata hadn’t even noticed he’d been wearing a weapon. 

Sasuke clicked his tongue and handed Hinata the gun. Then he sat beside her, looking briefly over her bruised neck. His fingers were like ice on her skin as he turned her head this way and that. Once he was satisfied with whatever he was looking for, he removed his hands and sat still. They sat in silence until Gaara gave the all-clear. 

-:-

Sasuke drove back to the Estate and didn’t allow Hinata a word of protest. They were back in their clothes, unwashed smelling like sweat, chlorine, and a little bit of blood. They’d dumped Suigetsu’s body into the trunk like a sack of potatoes, tying his arms and legs together with some rope Gaara had scrounged up from a utility closet. 

“Not my best k-knots,” Hinata had said to him as she kneeled on the tiled floor of the steam room, surprising him again with her wealth of crime-related talents. Then, as if possessed, or hysterical, she made a knot pun in a tiny voice as if she was telling it to herself.

Despite the intensity of the situation, Sasuke could not help but feel warm as he watched the ropes be tightened. She was still wearing a bikini after all, and her body leaned precariously over the unconscious assailant. 

“Hurry up Hyuga,” Gaara barked at her, though his gaze was aimed somewhere above her body, at the wall so that he was purposely not looking at her. “Auntie doesn’t want to keep this place closed too long. It will draw attention.”

“Why don’t you shut the fuck up and go get those securities tapes you promised?” Sasuke intoned impassively. When Gaara slunk away like a guilty toddler, Sasuke turned to Hinata who had risen to a squatted position with her heels planted on the ground. Suigetsu’s hands were clasped together and she held them above his head as if testing their strength. “I don’t like the way he talks to you.”

Hinata shrugged, stood, then dropped Suigetsu’s hands so hard they made a dull thud . She turned without saying a word to pull her clothes back on. She didn’t say anything until they were back in the car, not even when Sasuke demanded to drive. She simply handed the keys over and wrapped her now sweater-clad arms around her torso. 

As they merged onto the expressway, her phone vibrated on top of the dashboard and she gave it an unwelcoming glance when she grabbed it. “He s-sent the security recording.”

“Good.”

“We l-let that redhead woman go.”

“Who?” Sasuke did not remember such a person, though it wounded him to admit it. 

“There was a woman there with Suigetsu. T-they were um...kissing in the h-hot tub when we came in.”

Must’ve been why he hadn’t seen her. Sasuke drummed his fingers on the wheel, thinking. He paused for a moment, sucking all the air from the vehicle into his voice, “Can you tell me about what happened when you were kidnapped? I need to know all of it, including the Tiger deal with the Uchiha.”

Hinata gave him a long, hardened stare that he had not been expecting. Her lashes drooped, and her eyebrows drew together before falling. She took in that same breath, “I-I don’t remember much, but...”

-:-

The Tiger had been a big deal. Sasuke remembered bits and pieces of it. It had happened a year before the Uchiha massacre. 

His father went out of the compound to negotiate it, which was uncommon at the time. Usually, people came to him. Even stranger, he had no entourage. Fugaku had exited the compound a normal man in plain clothes. He returned with millions worth of drugs. He’d soon go on to triple that value. 

The Uchihas had once worked closely together with Orochimaru and his powerful but small organized crime group, years before Sasuke was born. They had a deal that had to do with weapons, dabbling in international sales. Uchiha Madara, the Father at that time, liked Orochimaru because he knew a lot of powerful people from across the globe, and helped connect the Uchiha with them. As Fugaku rose to power under Madara’s tutelage, an overseas deal gone wrong with Orochimaru led to a few years of distrust. Madara swore his faithfulness to Orochimaru, and Fugaku accepted him and their comradery out of respect for his elders. 

The year Sasuke was born, Madara left the clan for good––and Fugaku let him. Madara was old and had been unhappy, sickly, and depressed. He often complained about how things weren’t going how he had planned when he had been Father, and how one of his biggest mistakes was tapping Fugaku, his only nephew, to inherit the title. Madara had not had children of his own, and his brother, Fugaku’s father, had died young from a gunshot wound. 

“I should’ve had sons,” Madara could be heard saying as he wandered the grounds, aimlessly. “But at least Itachi will be the best of all of us.”

Fugaku gave Madara clemency, and they never spoke or heard from him again. Madara’s departure allowed Fugaku to finally sever ties with the Orochimaru group, quietly ghosting their appointments, and proceeding business as usual without him. Orochimaru made him uncomfortable, and what was worse: afraid. 

So when the little Hyuga heiress went missing, all hell broke loose. Except Fugaku knew about the interiors of the Orochimaru group, and he was willing to sell these secrets for something worthy. The Hyuga drug lords sent him the fucking tiger. 

Something akin to a partnership had been established between the long-time rivals. It would not be forgotten. Not until Hizashi showed up on their front steps, and hours later, gunshots erupted. 

-:-

Shenji whistled when he saw the body in the back of Hinata’s G-Wagon. He was wearing all black from head to toe, small guns strapped to his waistband. “I’d help but I’ve got a job.”

“No worries,” Hinata muttered quietly. The three of them were standing in the garage, the fluorescent lights above them casting them in ghastly, white light. 

“Yeah, I’ve got him,” Sasuke said. He clapped Shenji on the back, and they exchanged a short but meaningful look. “Good luck on your mission.”

Sasuke flung Suigetsu across his shoulder, noting that the knots Hinata had tied were still secure. The man groaned slightly, but Sasuke ignored him. He cast a look at Hinata, whose eyes had filled with unexpected zeal. “Where to?”

“F-follow me,” she said. 

Her feet made almost no sound as she walked down the dark hallways of the Estate. Night had fallen, and most of the Family who lived there were sound asleep. When she spotted a guard in the hallway, she gently asked him to call for her father. He could meet her in the theatre. 

Sasuke didn’t know they had a theatre, and he quickly surmised that that was merely a code word for something else entirely. His eyes traced Hinata’s form as she stepped into a small hallway nook that held shelves and hooks beside one of many backdoors.  One might put a raincoat there, or hang their keys. Instead of doing either, Hinata felt along the wall and made 30-seconds' worth of vague gestures with her hand there, until something clicked behind a cookbook. Sasuke watched intently, but couldn’t exactly discern the movements. “Step back,” she said.

Sasuke did, feeling the weight of Suigetsu as he did the motion. There was a 3-foot square of hardwood that acted as the floor of the nook, and it slowly lit open to reveal a staircase. Sasuke tried not to roll his eyes––there was no such drama at the Uchiha Compound. Though, it appeared obvious now that the Hyuga were more heavily monitored than the Uchiha’s ever had been. His presence on the Estate was reason enough, the man on his back mere fuel to the fire. It made good sense why he had been with them for a month and a half and this was his first time stumbling upon what was probably a monumental feature. 

“D-dramatic, I know,” Hinata confirmed as she quickly moved down the stairs. The stairs were long; they were going deep into the ground. She swept her hair back away from her face as she did so, her eyebrows drawn and serious. “Only s-some people k-know about this. We don’t like to talk about it.”

“Yeah, why would you?” Sasuke snorted. He walked down the stairs behind her. They were steep and thin, almost like going down a ladder. When he reached the bottom, he found that he was in yet another hallway, this one surprisingly well-lit. Well designed, even, with sandalwood floors and little benches for sitting. Fucking Hyugas. “Doesn’t seem like something you’d want included in a floor plan.”

Hinata gave a chaste smile, and Sasuke was alarmed by how quickly his brain thought to call her beautiful despite the circumstances. There was a man who had just tried to kill her on his back, after all. But her cheeks were dusted pink with exertion, her hair was pulled away from her face in smart concentration, and her clothes were dark and seemed just right. She held his gaze, and she said “S-Seriously. You’re right about the floor plan. B-before we go any further, I need you to promise me you’ll just follow me. Don’t try to open any doors, don’t go anywhere without me. If you can’t do that, I’ll take him.”

The intensity of the statement made Sasuke sober up. His espionage-oriented brain tingled with this new information. Sasuke likely didn’t even have the clearance to be there, but Hinata trusted him enough to take him. Either that or she was desperate or fearful enough. Regardless, it worked in his favor.. 

The hallway was long and straight with unmarked doors on either side of him. It led in two directions, and Hinata went right. Sasuke stored this information away for later as his mind wandered––how big was this place? Did it span the entire Estate? Was there more to it that reached into the organism that was Konoha? Was it a system of tunnels? Were there more entrances?

His brain felt more and more tingly the more unremarkable doors they passed until finally, Hinata stopped at one. She put in a long stream of numbers as the password, going as far as blocking the screen with her body, obscuring some of the numbers from view. Sasuke had cataloged only: 5-7-3-1-9––

and she caught his eye. She doesn’t trust me completely. Good girl. Her fingers sped up as she angled her body. There were 13 numbers in total. The door slid open. Sasuke was surprised again. They looked like wood, but they were metal, the mechanisms going farther than a simple deadbolt lock. This was something to behold indeed. 

The room itself was unremarkable. Plain white walls, plain tiled floor. No cords, outlets, or anything electronic were visible. There was a chair in the middle and Sasuke didn’t need to be told what the room was for or what he should do with his charge. 

Hinata stepped up after he sat Suigetsu down and readjusted the knots so that he was tied to the chair. As she was just finishing the knots, the door slid open, and Hiashi walked in. He looked tired but unsurprised as he looked upon the man who’d dated his daughter and later left a bug on her jacket. He merely walked slowly, turned to Hinata, and said, “Wake him.”

Hinata slapped him with the soft side of his hand, the casualness of the gesture surprising even Sasuke. When she stepped back, she looked tired. Her hand was red as her face. Suigetsu startled awake, his head trashing as he took in his surroundings: “What the––”

“Quiet,” Sasuke said severely. He grabbed a fistful of the man’s white hair, wrenching his head to the side and then back, watching his neck bulge. “Don’t speak until called.”

“Hold this,” Hiashi said as he stood next to Sasuke. In his hands was a black Glock that glinted against the harsh light. He took the weapon, bowing his head as Hiashi walked up to Suigetsu. Hinata stood beside him, shaking slightly, and trying to hide it. 

“Tell me about what happened,” Hiashi spoke casually as if there wasn’t a hostage in the ground under his house. This ask told Sasuke that Suigestu was going to die.

“I s-saw him in the bathhouse when we first got there. The three of us went into the steam room to discuss the terms of our next trade, and when we finished, I o-opened the d-door and he grabbed me,” Hinata swallowed. Her throat was bruising badly, and it looked painful. Sasuke was overcome with the sudden urge to tell the story for her so that she would not overextend herself. “He t-tried to choke me out, but I got loose. Sasuke and Gaara wrestled him d-down. He said that he...he said he c-came to collect me on behalf of Orochimaru.”

“Orochimaru is in jail,” Hiashi hummed. He was wearing sweatpants and a T-shirt like he had just rolled out of bed. It was curious to see him that way, though it somehow only made him look twice as dangerous. There was nothing casual about the man. “But that doesn’t mean he is incapable. He’s planning something. Boy––” he turned to Suigetsu. “How long have you been working with the Snake?”

Suigetsu blubbered, his voice shook but his words still contained the arrogance of someone who did not know enough to feel scared. “I d-don't know what you mean.”

Hiashi looked at Sasuke plainly. Sasuke looked at the Glock in his hand, and without a second thought, bashed the hilt against the man's mouth. The blood was immediate, and it joined the rest of the dirt on his face. Across the room, Hinata winced minutely. 

Sasuke raised his arm a second time without preamble when the man suddenly said, “I dunno man, seriously! Fuck! Years! I’ve known him since I was a fucking little kid. I saw him get put away, okay? That fucking long.”

“Let’s try to be more polite next time,” Hiashi suggested instead of dignifying Suigestu with a response. “So the Snake contacted you from prison, that much I’ve gathered. But how?”

“I don’t know,” Suigestu whispered, the blood blubbing around his mouth with his speech. 

“What do you mean you don’t know?” 

“I said I don’t know , man!” Suigetsu repeated, his voice cracking with fear. “Someone approached me about three months ago. He said––he said that Orochimaru made n-new friends and t-that he wanted to collect all the t-things that were ‘ rightfully his .’ I said...I said okay, how c-can I help? They wanted me to spy on the Hyuga by getting close to the daughter. When I...when I failed and this bitch ghosted me––”

Sasuke hit him again without preamble, the hilt of the metal getting bloodier by the minute. He didn’t know what came over him, but his muscles jerked in reaction. Hiashi and Hinata did and said nothing. 

“What were they doing with that information?” Hiashi said, instead of addressing Sasuke’s sudden burst of violence.

“I––I don’t know. I sw-wear I don’t know.”

“Why did you go after Hinata today, then?”

“I saw her by chance, I promise,” Suigetsu began to plead for his life here, but it fell on deaf ears. “I hadn’t heard from Orochimaru or that man in weeks . I started to...I started to get scared. When I saw Hinata walk into the bathhouse I thought...I thought if I kidnapped her in Orochimaru’s name...I would be spared. He, or whoever he’s working with, could get information from the source.”

“You’re an idiot,” Hiashi said plainly. “A sad, little idiot. No wonder they gave up on you. Tell me, boy, one last thing. Perhaps you’ll be good for something, this evening. Who is your contact that is connected to Orochimaru?”

“Honest, I don’t know!” Suigetsu was now wailing, big droplets of water falling from his eyes to mix with his dripping snot, and bloody, drooling mouth. “Please let me go! I don’t know! The contact changes every time! Sometimes it’s a woman, sometimes it’s a man. Tall, short, fat, I don’t fucking know man,” he wheezed. “They’re always different. Sometimes they wear these like...these long jackets w-with clouds. That’s all I k-know. T-they just told me Orochimaru is a friend from pr-prison, and that I c-could trust them.”

Akatsuki , Sasuke thought immediately. But he said nothing, not even when Hiashi’s eyes flashed from across the room.

“You are a fool indeed,” Hiashi sighed. He gestured open-handed, and Sasuke place the gun inside his hand. The old man took a moment to take the safety off, then cast his gaze towards his daughter, who stood quietly at the back of the room with her head down. Sasuke had almost forgotten she was there. 

“You two can leave. Get some rest,” Hiashi ordered. “Or go get a drink. I’ll have someone clean up this mess when I’m done. You’ve done good work. Hinata, we’ll check in tomorrow about Suna.”

“Yes Father,” she said, her voice low and devoid of emotion. “I’ll s-send someone down when I leave the theatre.”

“Excellent. Thank you.” Hiashi raised the gun as soon as the door clicked shut.

-:-

“I hate that part,” Hinata said when the two of them reached the ground level. She had rings under her eyes. 

They both stepped outside. Sasuke snuck a cigarette out of his back pocket. He only smoked on special occasions, and this was considered one of them. He offered one to Hinata and she declined. 

The air was crisp and still. Sasuke blew smoke into the night and watched the chill dissipate it. “You’re great on the field,” he said. 

Hinata looked pink in the dark, but she shrugged and said, “S-so are you.”

“Sorry about your neck. It looks painful.”

“It is,” Hinata said. Then: “I’ll...I’ll be okay though.”

“You don’t have to be,” Sasuke said, and was saying something else entirely. This whole day had probably been a giant trigger, having her kidnapper’s name thrown around like grocery-store brand cereal. Sasuke knew it wasn’t casual, he’d been there. 

She smiled at him, “I wish t-that were true, Sasuke.”

They were silent for a few puffs of smoke. Sasuke looked at his phone, then looked at her. When he spoke, he knew that he was doing the wrong thing, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself. He didn’t want to: “Did you know that it’s New Year's Eve?”

“Barely,” Hinata laughed to herself. “Just s-seems like a regular Tuesday to me.”

Sasuke snorted, “If that’s your normal, Hyuga Princess, then I will personally find you a therapist.”

“You assume I don’t already h-have four,” she smiled, her face lighting up ever so slightly. “But there’s only so m-much one can say about these sorts of things.”

“That’s true. I imagine torturing a man in your basement would send a few red flags.”

“Enough to have me c-committed, I’d wager.”

They laughed to themselves about the absurdity of the situation and the conversation, Hinata leaned against the wall, staring at the big moon above them. Her smile faded slowly as the clouds moved to cover its light.

“It’s New Year's,” Sasuke repeated, finally. “Go out with me. I know a place we can go.”

“Sure,” Hinata said. “Why not? I’d like that.”

Chapter Text

“Not at a-all a date,” Hinata found herself saying into the phone. She stood in front of the mirror in her bedroom, kicking books out of the way so that she could get a full picture of her shoes. “We just had a long day. Honestly, Ino, it w-was so––”

“So, let me get this straight, you're not going out for New Year’s with me? You’re going with some random, hot, employee of your dad’s?”

“That’s a strange way to p-put it...” Hinata said, frowning somewhat. Were they not all employees of her father’s? Ino included? She looked down at her outfit for the evening: Dark flared jeans and a cropped turtleneck. Under it, she wore a tank-top, just in case the bar was warmer than expected. When she drank she did tend towards overheating. She put on Hanabi’s platform Doc Martens: though it had been dry the last day or so, she didn’t trust the weather completely, and Hanabi had the most expansive shoe collection in the city. The outfit was more than practical: it was damn near puritan. “But seriously Ino, I have to tell you about what happened. Remember S-Suigetsu––”

An image of him flashed before her eyes. On their first date, they sat in a park between skyscrapers, their heads tilted towards the sky. He’d brought picnic items: A large blanket, a small lemon cake, onigiri, pickled vegetables, cucumber salad, smoked salmon, and fizzy drinks. They had loved to eat together during those four faithful dates they’d been on. Snacking on cuisines of all kinds, their gazes had been a different type of hunger. 

Now Hinata shuttered to remember his bulbous face as she and Sasuke rushed from the theatre, casting their eyes downwards and away. It was only a few hours ago Hinata watched a van depart from the driveway, carrying Suigetsu’s body to an undisclosed location. Watching Sasuke hit him with the butt of her father’s gun was the last thing she would ever see of him and she didn’t even have it in her to think good riddance. 

“Stop thinking about that asshole,” Ino prattled on. She was getting ready for her own outing, on the video call taking rollers out of her hair. She put the camera down and backed away, showing off her outfit: A sleek purple dress with fur around the bodice, and white knee-high go-go boots. “You said it yourself, you never liked him anyways. Sasuke though, this Sasuke.... hmm , I might even be jealous! Now back up, I want to see your fit.”

“Ino that’s not what I’m talking about,” Hinata rubbed her temples, beginning to feel annoyed. All Ino ever did these days was talk over her and assume. Hinata wasn’t sure what the catalyst was, but she knew that it was starting to make her uncomfortable. “T-This is a serious situation...”

“I know, ” Ino rolled her pretty, made-up eyes. She had to pause to glue her mink lashes down and blink into the camera. “That’s why I asked to see your fit. Back up a little. It’s a little conservative, no? You shouldn’t be so covered––I think you either need to ditch the sweater or the jeans. Perhaps a miniskirt?”

“I think I’m g-going to get off the phone.” 

Ino’s face fell, “don’t be like that, Hina. I’m just trying to help, okay? Where are you going with Sasuke? Could y’all perhaps...join Tenten, Neji, and I? Shenji, Shika, and Kiba might join us if their job finishes in time.”

“I can’t do that,” Hinata replied in a clipped tone, which made Ino’s eyebrows raise. “N-not today. It’s wherever Sasuke w-wants to go. I’m in need of some t-time away...S-suigetsu...he––”

“I’m tired of hearing about him!” Ino's face was far from the camera as she turned her body this and that way. “You deserve so much better, okay babe? Now, we’re going to––”

“Right,” Hinata said as she snatched her phone off the table, “S-Sasuke is knocking! I’ve got to go now.” With that, she hung up, silenced her phone, and charged to the door without preamble.

She opened it to see Sasuke leaning against the wall opposite her room. His figure was shocking––he had never ventured upstairs before––but he looked casual, dressed in the same clothes as before except for the edition of a heavy coat and some stocky boots. Both of his hands were full: he was holding helmets. 

Hinata cocked her head to the side at the sight of them, “What's that about?”

“Safety,” he answered snidely. He gave her a once over, taking in her covered limbs, and delicately covered skin, and nodded. “You dressed well for tonight, but you might want a scarf for the ride.”

Her face warmed at what could be a compliment, what could be a practical observation. Then her eyebrows lifted, “You have a motorcycle.”

He nodded, a small smirk working its way onto his face. It made him look younger, despite his already quite young expression. “Some of us have hidden talents too, Hyuga Princess.”

“W-well,” Hinata drank in his expression, only for a moment relishing in the upturn in his mouth, the challenging look in his eyes, “Let’s see them.”

-:-

She felt good against his back. Her body was warm, and it seemed to block the chill that sunk in from the passing wind. He didn’t always ride his bike in the early winter, but the forecast said it would be mostly dry and not very cold, on the fateful New Years' night. He figured he could get a ride in before he’d have to retire the bike for the season. 

He rode smoothly, so as not to startle her. He chose to drive on the safe side as if he was carrying precious cargo. Despite his efforts, or perhaps because of them, Hinata sat casually on the back of the bike, her arms a tangled knot around his stomach. She didn’t seem scared.

When he stopped at the bar he frequented, she hopped off with sleepy confidence the way she always seemed to do things. She was a strange oxymoron of a person, with strange skills, and strange positions, but a generally shy and worrisome exterior. 

“C’mon,” he said, leading her inside without touching her. After popping her helmet onto his bike, her hair falling like silk around her shoulders, she followed. Her eyes were bright as she took in the neon sign across the top, and an amused look flashed across her normally-reserved face: “ ‘Friendly’s ?”

“What?”

“Doesn’t s-seem like a place you would go...”

“You calling me mean?” Sasuke held the door open for her.

“I’m n-not calling you nice, is all. You work for my father, after all.”

“And what does that make you?” the room opened up for them, bodies packed inside under Christmas lights and mistletoe. It smelled sour, like beer and gingerbread cookies. The people seemed to swarm them, so he placed a hand on her lower back and steered them towards the bar. 

She didn’t shy away from his touch, letting herself be guided in this new and foreign space. She had to look up at him when he spoke, placing her mouth near his neck so that he could hear her as she said: “I’m––I’m irrelevant.”

Once at the bar, Sasuke hailed down a bartender without looking down the counter, instead he rose an eyebrow down at the woman, half of his face glowing red. “How’s that?”

They placed their orders. Sasuke would have a whisky, and Hinata copied him, pointing with the ring finger the most expensive one on the shelf behind the bartender. Sasuke rose his eyebrow again at this, but she shrugged and told him that that was what her dad drank. It tasted good enough. 

Sasuke thought that was an understatement after the drinks had been brought out, placed inside of their hands, and deposited down their throats. The burn was familiar, and it thawed a part of him he had not known was frozen. Hinata, too, seemed to loosen at the core, rolling her head around her shoulders in small circles. She smiled, exposing a small jewel on her left canine, which glinted red in the light. Another small surprise. 

“How’s that?” the Uchiha repeated. He felt the day fall off of him like dirty clothing. There was no use keeping those memories pressed against his cerebral when there would be time to process them later. For fucks sake––it was New Year’s, and he hadn’t had a goddamn break in weeks. And sure, sure , it was irresponsible to bring Hyuga fucking Hinata to one of his favorite haunts, but what were the odds of one of his very few friends showing their faces when Friendly’s was his thing, and no one else’s?

Perhaps the liquor was getting to him. They’d been there ten minutes and had already ordered a third drink each, both guzzling them down like tall glasses of water, washing away the day. The music was pulsating, sleek, and heavy, with the base curling around their bodies as it lulled them to calm. The bodies around them moved, jostled, and screamed but it didn’t matter. They felt unknowable here. 

Sasuke watched Hinata glance at the clock, fanning herself lightly as more bodies created heat in the space. 11:55 pm. A new year was approaching quickly, like a thief with a knife against your neck. She put her drink down and Sasuke could not help but watch, being what and who he was, as she grabbed the edges of her sweater and pulled it over her head. She wore a black tank top underneath, which revealed none of her tattoos. Sasuke found it disappointing when he looked into the cream of her shoulders, its ink absent. But he allowed his eyes to travel, over her chest, processing with slow-blinking eyes, and down to her waist, where he could imagine the curling lines of her tattoos. His heart did a sit-up in his chest and he ignored it. 

She didn’t notice, picking the drink back up casually, and tossing her hair back, exposing her long neck. Her eyes were sleepy when she looked at him but open in ways he had never seen: “I’m irrelevant b-because I’m here out of duty. I’m not making money. I’m not making d-decisions. I exist to s-serve the syndicate.”

Sasuke gestured and sent for more drinks. The clock ticked up. He stared at her hard, really looking at her as if she was becoming more and more real in front of his eyes. “So what does that mean?”

“It means...it m-means that I am made of the very same beast you joined. I’m like a limb, an inexplicable part. I h-have no traits besides b-being a part of the things itself. I’m just...just Hyuga Hinata.”

“If you’re a limb then what am I? A toenail?”

Hinata shook her head, her hair falling around her neck and shoulders in a great mass. Her eyes were serious, sad, and patient as if she was telling a story she already knew the end of. “No, Sasuke. You’re not the thing itself, you could never be.”

“So what am I then?”

The clock struck 12. Cheers erupted. Bodies moved. Confetti fell from the cieling. Hinata put her small hand on his shoulder a smiled a small mournful smile. 

“You are the gun in my hands,” she said. “And I am not me at all.”

-:-

They celebrated the new year by dancing together. It was unexpected, to Sasuke at least, that the Hyuga would do something so...loose. Already, she had shed her top layer and left it in some corner. Already she had drunk more whisky than he thought possible for her small form. She turned from some shy creature to a full-tooth grin in the flashing lights of the bar, and it was endearing to see it all fall away. 

She was not a messy drunk by any means; put together, a little silly, and quite flirty were all things the Uchiha would maybe describe her as. After all, the eldest Hyuga woman had to have some sort of sex appeal, shy or not--it seemed to be a part of the job. Like a spy, she’d been trained for it. Now, she fell into it like it was easy, her eyes lowered, her hair swept back, her arms a reaching signal.

Sasuke, to his credit, had also allowed himself one drunk night where he didn’t have to think of very many things. It was a new year, and he would be meeting up with his long-lost brother in only a few days' time. The thought alone was enough to send a spike of energy and anxiety through him, which he used to propel him into the sea of people. Bodies covered them. 

Hinata was a decent dancer. He would not say that she was good, but she certainly wasn’t the worst. He could tell that she didn’t do it often as he spun her. He found his hands lowering and lowering until they rested on her waist, and she moved in––at first hesitant, but later somewhat more confident––circles around his body.

To be transparent--and the Uchiha was nothing but that during the rare occasions he was under the influence--Hinata essentially calling him a weapon had made him kind of hard. It was an unexpected rush that he credited to hypermasculinity, something he structurally had to unlearn during his days training in espionage. Things like that were symptoms of pride, and that was dangerous in the field.

But he had always been prideful. Pride was a structure of the Uchiha too, and he could not forget his upbringing any more than he could forget his role in the world, in this situation, in his life. But...the statement still made him hard as he looked down into the face of a woman who was essentially his boss, but also not. Who had all of these hidden skills, all of these hidden tattoos, and all of these hidden stories. He was there to bring the Hyuga to its knees––the clan, not her, but she was the thing itself, she had said. She was––

Grinding on him. It had truly been a long day. He remembered the private dressing room, watching her skin slowly come out of its dark baggy clothing, a pocket of plump flesh emerging in a stringed purple bikini. The hard lines of a dragon against her soft and dimpled belly, dipping just below her swimsuit. Now, her tank top rode up, exposing the back part of her tattoo just over her jeans as the music and alcohol flooded through her veins. 

At the end of the day, they were there together, and alone, dancing. Sasuke’s hands were on her jeans as she turned and faced him, her eyes low and mischievous as she slid her arms around his neck. They gyrated, moving their bodies in unison to the music. Hinata leaned her head back and let out a belting lyric to a song Sasuke had not realized was on, her voice lifting, if I had a little, ah, yeah, eh. If I had a little ah, ah––

“––Sasuke?”

A voice interrupted them. Like a flash, Hinata had let him go as if the spell had been broken. Her face colored deeply. She pulled her pants up self-consciously, blinking several times as if she were just waking up. 

The Uchiha wiped his face clear of emotion and was doing a hellofa a better job than his Hyuga companion in acting like a normal human being. He turned to see none other than Haruno Sakura staring at him, her jaw hanging agape. 

Fuck , he thought, the sight of her bringing the alcohol to a head. It quickly raced from his system. He didn’t think he’d see anyone at Friendly’s that he knew. He knew his friends sometimes came but––

He had been stupid. Slightly, and perhaps very noticeably, he stepped around Hinata as if to shield her. Sakura’s jaw collected itself as her eyebrow rose. She stuck her hand out at Hinata, to shake, saying “Hello! I’m a friend of Sasuke’s. I’m Sato Yui.”

One of her many pseudonyms. Sasuke cursed in his head, this was worse than he thought it would be.

Hinata blinked at her, the pinkness leaving her cheeks. She extended her hand too, smiling mildly as she said, “Sato-san, so nice to meet you. I’m Hina.”

Not her full name. Hinata was sharp.

“How do you guys know each other?” Sakura asked in a friendly, bubbling manner. She did look like she was there for fun, dressed in a tiny black dress that meshed perfectly with her curves, and tall white heels that looped around her ankles. Her eyes darted between them in delighted, curious, joy.

“Work,” Hinata smiled, her cheeks flushing. She didn’t say anything else.

Drunk Hinata did not stutter as much, and she was no idiot either. She glanced at them both, before gesturing towards the bar. Then she yelled over the music: “I’m going to go get another drink! You guys want something?”

Sasuke said yes, Sakura declined, raising her own in her hands. Hinata nodded, then she darted between the crowds of people, heading to the bar.

Once she was out of earshot, Sakura turned an alarming red color. She stomped on Sasuke’s foot hard enough for him to wince. “Sasuke–– what the fuck are you doing?!”

He had no answer. She was right to be angry. He was being stupid. He should not have brought Hinata there. 

“We’re not going to talk about this now,” he responded simply. 

“No, not now?” Sakura raged, turning as pink as her hair. “You––you––a fucking Hyuga? One that you––” her voice lowered here, and only a trained ear would be able to make out what she said next, “––one you said you had not gathered any intel on?”

“That’s why I’m here,” Sasuke lied easily. “Like I said. We don’t need to talk right now.”

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

“Of course, I do,” Sasuke assured her. Her eyes were disbelieving if not a little hurt. Sasuke pushed away the memory of their last in-person meeting, in which they vowed to never interact in the same way again. 

“I’ve got it under control, Haruno. Why are you jeopardizing the fucking mission by showing your ass?” And here he let a little bit of annoyance push through his tone, as if bothered by her skepticism, bothered that she would even think to intrude and question him. Gaslighting was an Uchiha skill, but Sasuke did not feel gratified at the hurt and hesitance that crossed his teammate's face. 

He’d have to deal with it later.

Hinata reappeared holding two drinks and a dazed smile. Half of hers was gone already. She smiled prettily at Sakura, adjusting her disheveled tanktop and saying: “And how do you two know each other?”

“College,” Sakura said, her face returning to a friendly glow. Then she patted Sasuke’s shoulder in jest, lifting her tone: “You’re lucky to work with this guy, he’s one of the best.”

Hinata nodded, her smile breaking her face as she said, “I think you’re right, Sato-san. I’m very lucky indeed.”

Sasuke remembered that he was the weapon, and she was the thing itself––but also, that he was irritatingly and dangerously attracted to her.

-:-

Sasuke got to his apartment at 4 am after dropping Hinata back at home at 3:45. His phone began ringing off the hook at 5:45.

He was grateful that he had driven his motorcycle there, so there was no unnecessary talking after a night of drunk mistakes. Unfortunately, there was ample room for necessary touching, which made his skin tingle as Hinata tightened her grip around him. This now-apparent, newfound attraction was shoved back down his throat where it came from. He might be a little tipsy still, but he was no fool. 

Hinata was not one either, that was evident. She hopped off his bike, a polite smile on her lips as she bid him goodnight and vanished into the wings of the Estate. “Thanks s-so much for the adventure,” she had said politely. “And thanks for l-looking out for me today. It won’t go forgotten.”

“Right,” Sasuke said curtly. Already, they were both sobering and full of heavy regret, and it sat on their shoulders like a weight. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

In his apartment, safe and fucking alone, Sasuke couldn’t get the images of her out of his head. You are the gun in my hands , her voice appeared as he stepped into a hot shower. He felt his body react, as images of her figure zipped through his mind. He turned the shower cold, stopping the thoughts and shoving them away, somewhere else, somewhere far, where they belonged. 

He toweled off and sat at his desk, his one light on, shining onto the bare table. He had few objects and saw fewer reasons to have them. His mind drifted, leaving its drunk-and-aroused state to a more practical one as he thought about the day he had had. He made a mental list of events:

Bathouse, Gaara, Tiger, steamroom. Suigestu, Orochimaru, Hinata, Estate. Theatre, Hiashi, Atasuki, Murder. These names...these situations didn’t add up.

He got up to get his laptop and came face-to-face with the scratched yen from what felt like weeks ago. He’d taped it to his wall, and it was the only thing that adorned his apartment. With a pang, he remembered Itachi. Their meeting was only a couple of days away. Perhaps Sasuke could ask Itachi himself what was going on. 

The idea was drunk and worse, naive. Sasuke snatched the yen off the wall and went to get his laptop. His laptop was in his safe, which was in an undisclosed location within the floorboards of his apartment. He traded it with the yen as if banishing the cash from sight. Then, he scanned his retina and put in the code, before pulling out the device. He rarely used it, preferring to do his research in the safety of headquarters, where their IPs and searches were more heavily protected. 

What prison was Orochimaru in? And where was Hidan located? Could the two of them even have consistent enough communication to orchestrate an event like that?  He unlocked his computer with concentrated typing, quickly accessing the databases that were available offsite. They were few and far in between. He pulled up articles on Orochimaru buried deep within the archive, but could not source the name of the prison he was in. All he could source was a report, written years ago, by his mentor. Most of it blackened out and named top-secret, even to him. He’d have to go to headquarters to reach this depth of information. 

Still, he scrolled what little he could see of the file. All of Orochimaru’s medical reports, his citizen identification number, and his dietary restrictions were unblocked parcels of nothing. He scrolled, a headache looming from all the whisky he’d drank until his vision began to blur. He transferred the laptop to his bed--a plain queen-sized fortress with cream sheets and two pillows--and felt his body relax into the foam. He scrolled, even though his head throbbed. 

There was a picture, at the very end, of Orochimaru sitting in his cell, taken as a sort of “wellness check” they used to keep track of an inmate's appearance over time. This one was dated just a few months ago, so the file had been updated and secured again against all odds. 

Orochimaru was certainly in solitary confinement; the cell was small with one bed, one toilet, and one sink all along one wall. Behind him, a tiny window gave a slither of a view of the outside world. Sasuke zoomed in: a desert. 

Sasuke closed his laptop: he wouldn’t get anything more from his search until he went to ANBU and signed on to the servers. He placed a pillow over his stomach, reaching idly for the silver water bottle he kept on his bedside table. His head hammered aggressively. No, no it didn’t make sense. Hidan was not in a desert. He’d been at the Konoha State Penitentiary when he murdered Hyuga Hizashi. 

He needed to get to headquarters immediately. These thoughts would not escape him. 

Sasuke sat up to put on clothes, grabbing his jogging pants and sweater, his holstered gun from its place hanging off his desk chair when his phone started ringing. He hadn’t slept one bit, and it was evident when he answered, glancing just casually at the caller ID before he said: “Can’t sleep either, Hyuga princess?”

“Sasuke you need to come to the Estate right now,” Hinata’s voice came fast and stutter-free. She seemed wide awake. “There’s been a raid. Shenji’s been shot.” 

Chapter Text

“I got him,” Hinata said sternly, her voice a flat-line, her form unwavering as she led Shikamaru to a seat. “Ino, just sit down . I got him.”

They were in a theatre. It was 5:15 am. Half an hour ago, Hanabi had stormed into her room and thrown the blankets off her still-drunk body. Hinata had fallen asleep in her tank top and underwear, smelling like whiskey. She dreamt of Sasuke and the pink-haired girl in the black dress for the single hour she had slept, the pinkette dancing around their bodies, her eyes a pair of magnifying glasses. Who are you? She’d asked.

Hanabi slapped her hard in the face to sober her up, a move she’d likely seen her father do to their uncle one time or another. Hinata winced, her head going dizzy as she clambered out of bed, moaning an uncharacteristic “What the fuuuucc- -”

“There was a raid,” Hanabi explained, face hot. “I heard Shikamaru come in--alone. He’s in bad shape with--”

“Alone?” Here Hinata sprang up, recalling that there had been three of them, not just one. She scurried from bed, grabbing the jeans she’d worn that night and pulling them up her legs. “Is Shikamaru okay?”

Hanabi shrugged, her face was pinked and scared. “I don’t know. They went right to the theatre and I’m not allowed down there, but they called Inoichi and Ino came too, and she just said to go get you.”

She was mostly rambling. Hinata tried to calm her down, leading her to a seat and handing her the cup of water Hinata had set out before she went to sleep--it was supposed to be for her inevitable hangover, but at present, she felt nothing except the slap on her cheek. Hanabi had done her a good one.

Hanabi was likely, and reasonably, traumatized. This had happened years ago when Hizashi was arrested for the murder of Gaara’s uncle. The Estate stood still and quiet, ready for anything. 

When Hinata had assured Hanabi to a reasonable degree (“once I’m done I’ll come back up and tell you everything,”) she bolted down the stairs to the theatre, where she found her father, Inoichi, Ino, and Tsume crowded around Shikamaru who was bleeding out his arm. 

Hinata went to his side and inspected it, moving a worried Ino out of the way. She reeked of vodka, still wearing the purple dress with the feathers or whatever, as she worried over her boyfriend. She was sniffing, saying “some way to start the new year.”

She was also trying to get to Shikamaru, who looked frantic and vaguely nauseous. Hinata quietly said, “I got him, Ino. W-will you please let me take care of him?”

“I don’t think it’s bad,” Shikamaru said once he sat. Hinata began unfolding the torn shirt he’d wrapped around the wound. “I wanted a paramedic to look at it when I dropped off Shenji, but it started to become a hassle and I needed to tell you all what happened.”

The sleep was more than gone from Hinata’s eyes as she inspected his wound, trying not to let his words bristle her more than she already was. Her father was in the room, and so he controlled the conversation. From the closet behind the bar, Hinata pulled an elevated version of a first-aid kit out and sanitized her hands. 

“And Shenji’s condition?” Hiashi asked.

Shikamaru winced, “I’m––I’m not sure, Hyuga-sama. He was shot in the abdomen. It was a raid: cops everywhere. They were arresting Kiba who had gone out––guns blazing––and I managed to load Shenji into the car and take off. I wasn’t followed.

I took him straight to the hospital and he was admitted. They tried to look me over but I didn’t let them. I needed to report to you. I figured it was just a graze,” Nara looked at Hinata expectedly, and she nodded, confirming his suspicion. 

“Just a graze,” she said as she began to soak cotton towels in disinfectant, and dot them against his bleeding arm. He hissed and Hinata ignored him. “You’ll need stitches, though.”

He nodded. The room folded into silence, Hiashi smoking a gracious amount of cigar, taking it into his mouth, and then releasing it all in one great exhale. Ino had acquired coffee from the small bar, a brash attempt at sobering up. Her face was pink with panic. Tsume stood beside her for lack of a better place to stand. Her eyebrows had risen into her hairline in her alarm. Kiba was not accounted for. 

“What do we do about my son?” She ventured to ask, her tone making it seem like her heart lived in her throat, and it pumped uncertainty into her words. Her red eyeshadow began to blend in with the color of her face, and her triangle tattoos that Hizashi had done years ago faded into her discomforted complexion. 

Inoichi cleared his throat, casting a sideways glance at Hiashi, whom he was sitting next to. “Tsume, this is an extreme situation, you understand...”

“Our people get arrested all the time!” She cried. “What’s so extreme about this?”

It was an inane question, considering the circumstances. Hinata dutifully worked the wound, letting her head clear as she threaded the needle. Even she understood that this situation was not like the others. Shikamaru and Kiba were among the highest-ranked members, just under their parents, the Uncles. Nothing about their mission, this raid, was casual. 

“And do we make it our business to get all of them out, Tsume?” Inoichi rebutted. He looked tired, his forehead creasing the same way Ino’s had. “Look, I want to get your boy out too. But God knows he’s trained for this. He won’t crack. I’ve already contacted our guys down at the department to see what they can do, but this wasn’t any old street bust. This was a raid. The feds knew we were coming.”

“The issue is far bigger than Kiba,” Hiashi said, his voice stern and flat. He did not sound remorseful. “The entire Syndicate is in danger. Between Hinata being attacked yesterday and now this...we have been compromised.”

The air felt heavy. Hinata felt Shikamaru’s body stiffen as she worked to close the wound. She could not allow her hands to get sweaty. She could not think of how tired she was. She could not even take a single moment to remember her dream. She watched the skin change around her touch. 

“Let’s adjourn,” Hiashi said finally, into the almost-silence. Tsume’s heavy breathing filled the room, not quite a cry, not quite a whimper. “It’s late. We will discuss everything in the afternoon. Hinata, when you wake up first thing this morning you will go to see Shenji. Take Ino and Hanabi with you. Shikamaru––you will stay at the Estate tonight to rest. Call your father and tell him we need him to come from Osaka. He needs to be here by morning. Inoichi, please arrange the jet. Tsume––” with a sigh, he looked at the distressed woman, a frown pulling his lips into a far corner of his face. His eyes were hard, “you better pray your child doesn’t say a thing. Go home and look out for phone calls. I have a feeling he won’t be getting out any time soon.”

Hinata swallowed and looked away. Shikamaru, too, was looking into a far corner of the room though he could be attempting to distract himself from the pain. They both hoped that Kiba would be alright, but it wasn’t looking good, especially from her father’s tone. Kiba was not in the sort of position that would allow Hiashi to vouch for him––no, not where there’d been a raid. 

She patched Shikamaru up with a bandage and patted his shoulder. Ino rushed over, quick to leave Tsume’s side, to wrap her arms around him. Hinata smiled at the picture of the two, though it was a sad smile, marked with a fear she had not yet fully comprehended. “I’ll t-take you two to a g-guest room. Goodnight, father.”

He said nothing as he watched the three of them leave the room. Hinata walked them back up the stairs of the theatre, locking the door behind her. She showed them to their room, trying to look away when Ino kissed Shikamaru with her mouth open, her relief so apparent on her body that she looked like she was going to fall down and cry. Hinata closed the door to give them their privacy. 

After that, she called Sasuke to tell him what happened. 

He answered, but he never came.

-:-

“What the fuck happened last night?”

Sasuke was fuming. Ox was unemotional, and Sakura looked like she was seconds away from falling over––he could see the wary look in her eye practically through her mask. He suddenly remembered that she had been out all night last night too. At least she had gotten more sleep than him. Sasuke had popped an adderall and made the 2-hour drive to headquarters led by drugs and fury alone. 

“What do you mean, Crow?” Ox said, her voice thick and uncaring, a monotone that bounded off the walls. She stood in front of the Sakura’s big windows, the sun inching its way towards the middle of the sky. 

“The raid,” Sasuke said through his teeth. “Why the fuck did you let that happen? And don’t even pretend like you didn’t know about it. You’ve compromised the whole mission!”

“Federal agents act without us all the time,” Ox said, her masked face looking flatly at him, the horns curling. Sasuke had never seen her without it. Unlike operations with Dog, he never got to see who he took orders from. “You would be good to remember that.”

“Be fair Ox,” Sakura broke in, her mask tilted in Sasuke’s direction. She likely felt guilty for ‘jeopardizing’ this mission herself. Good , Sasuke thought conspiringly. He needed her on his side. “If the feds knew ANBU was involved, they would send us a warning before a raid. They might even hold off on it altogether. I’ve seen it happen before.”

Sasuke was furious. He could feel the heat rising from his stomach and had to stop it from spewing from his mouth. He was grateful for his mask because, without it, his expression would have given far too much away. His fingers twitched at his sides. It was ridiculous that Naruto had been caught in a crossfire. It was ridiculous that Ox had not shown any remorse for his injuries. It was fucking ridiculous. 

Ox sighed and moved from where she was staring out of the window. She wrapped her long, blonde hair around her neck as she went, shaking her head until she was standing directly in front of Sakura and Sasuke. “I do not have to explain anything to either of you,” she said in a terse, strained voice. “You are agents for ANBU. The feds are agents of the State . If they want to raid, we do not have the authority to say no. We can make suggestions, we can pull our agents, but we do not, under any circumstances, tell them what to do.”

But that seemed wrong to Sasuke. Confusion began to eclipse his anger, but he stopped it. He needed to feel this rage. He recalled all the times he had worked with a federal agent, especially during the Orochimaru bust, and had taken liberties to give orders, organize movement, and stop actions. Dog had been integral to this, with years of experience and connections to guide their unit to success. 

“But––that's not true!” Sakura suddenly said, her chest rising and falling. Sasuke was surprised; she rarely challenged authority, often choosing instead to find loopholes where her needs were met with walls. She was sneaky that way. What was more––Ox had become a mentor to her, so she must have really felt strongly. “I’ve seen it happen. Even if that’s the case, you could’ve removed Naruto if you knew a raid was going to happen.”

Ox sighed heavily, shaking her head. The crown of her mask shone porcelain and bright against the light of the rising sun. She sat heavily in Sakura’s seat. Then, she began to laugh. “You young folks think you know everything, don’t you? It does not always work like that. You do understand that we are contract workers, don’t you?”

“Of––of course, I do!” Now, Sakura stumbled, caught off guard. She had gone stiff beside Sasuke. 

“Good...” Ox sighed. “I’ll be candid, then. Japan has formally rescinded some of our access––some of our power to make decisions on a few of our missions, like this one. If they decide to raid, I can do nothing to stop them.” 

“Why?” Sasuke barked, blood running cold like he had just stepped into a cold shower. 

“We don’t know yet,” Ox said quietly. “But they have made Hiashi’s takedown a top priority––that’s why they raided. They’re taking matters into their own hands. It doesn't matter that they’re paying us, too––I imagine they want all the help they can get. I don’t know what all the fucking lollygagging is about, Crow, but you need to finish this mission. Whether you have Fox’s help or not.”

With that, Ox stood, unwrapped her hair, and stepped out of Sakura’s office. Sakura quickly replaced her in the chair and grabbed the bottle of sake Ox had left behind. “That was weird.”

“Incredibly,” Sasuke echoed, frowning. This was yet another strange occurrence, a weird turn of events, he would have to add to his list. A raid in the middle of a mission was not unheard of, but they definitely tried to avoid them. Resistance to ANBU by the state? Had ANBU done something wrong? Had they ruffled too many feathers?

The Hyuga crackdown was the only thing that made sense. But even so...a raid? That meant they had eyes on the Hyuga outside of their ANBU hires. Why go through the trouble of doing both? 

His head hurt and he was grinding his teeth, a side effect from the adderall and lack of sleep. His stomach was attempting to carve a hole out of his abdomen--he had not eaten in an entire day. One thing was for certain: he needed to finish this mission, or Naruto might not be the only agent to end up in the hospital. 

His mind flashed with details and pictures, but trying to review the last 24 hours was quickly deemed impossible. He thought about asking Sakura about Orochimaru’s prison but thought better of it, as distrust began to make a home out of his mind. He’d have to wait until he had more information. He needed to talk to his brother. 

“---Crow?” Sakura’s voice rang out as Sasuke cleared his mind. 

“What?”

“I said, ‘Do you want to get some food?’ You’re...you’re shaking.”

“No,” Sasuke said. He made his body go still. He thought of his apartment, of the notes he had taken, and the map he began to draw across his walls. The goal of this mission seemed so far away--retrieve the file, erase the Hyuga database, learn the internal workings of their operations--that they almost seemed like lies. Hearsay. What the fuck was he doing there? He was making no progress, just digging himself deeper with his questions. 

He couldn’t deny that he had his own goals: he wanted the Hyuga punished for their crimes against his clan. He wanted to end their reign. He wanted to find his brother. But somehow...all that seemed misplaced. Hinata swirled around his memory, her eyes a pressing, urgent, lavender. 

“I’m going to go home,” Sasuke said. 

-:-

There was a quiet roar in her ear. Like drumming. It spoke to her in rhythms; all of her different functions--heart rate, regulatory breathing, swallows, scratches, blinking--coalescing into one sound. She had to remind herself of homeostasis just to make sure she was still human.

Hinata stood outside of her father’s office, her figure a picture of quiet in the shadows. He spoke with his back facking her, and his guest was an outline in black. There was music playing, drinks exchanged, incense wafting into the open air. The door to the interior garden was shut and the hallways, beside her, were empty.

She was there to update him on Shenji’s condition. She, Ino, and Hanabi had driven there together that morning. Ino was exhausted and fearful, and Hanabi was just happy to be there. But Hanabi quickly realized that her “syndicate business endeavor” was perfunctory at best. And it was not only uninteresting, it was depressing. 

They were admitted to Shenji’s hospital room, where he was bedbound in ICU. He had tubes coming from his nose, wires connected to his chest, and IVs running down the length of his arm. Hanabi turned white when she saw him. Hinata was not allowed to look away. She took in every detail, every bruise. She remembered that morning before this fateful mission, when she had given him a bowl of rice, and he had smiled at her so brightly she thought that he couldn’t be possible. That his presence here could not be possible. 

She sat tiredly in a chair at his bedside, waiting for a nurse to enter so that she could be specific about his injuries when she spoke to her father. It took a long time for a nurse to come. Hinata lulled beside him and he didn’t stir.

The night had been long. For a while, she had waited for  Sasuke to show up so that she might explain everything, but he never did, and she didn’t know why she had expected him to. They were only acquaintances...did she think that his presence, his rage for his friend, would comfort her?

So she had attempted to sleep after an hour of nothing. It was not a fruitful sleep. She dreamt long arcs, sagas full of different things: her mother’s red fingernails, the strip mall where she’d been taken, the steam of the sauna, Sasuke’s hands on her torso...

So no, it was not fruitful sleep. She got up and dressed quickly, woke up Hanabi, met with Ino, drove them all through the Starbucks drive-thru, picked up five-dozen roses from Yamanaka Flowers, and signed in to the hospital to watch Shenji sleep. 

She held her head in her hands after all that finished. Hanabi and Ino arranged the roses beside him on the bedside table that held a phone and a button used to call a nurse. Ino left the room quietly to fill up his water pitcher. Ino could not look at his face because it reminded her that it could have just as easily been Shikamaru instead. 

She was fairly selfish that way. 

A nurse came in after twenty minutes passed in relative silence. Hinata’s iced coffee dripped wet with condensation between her hands. The nurse wore bright green eyeshadow that Hinata focused on while she spoke: Shenji is in a coma. A gunshot pierced his chest, causing pneumothorax: a collapsed lung. He has also been shot in the left arm. The bullet shattered his humerus and broke into tiny pieces inside of his arm. He will be going in for reconstructive surgery, um, at 3 pm, then we will need to see if we can extract the bullet fragments. He will require months of physical therapy. Can I put you down as his emergency contact? They said he didn’t have identification papers on him when he arrived.

Hinata said yes. She filled out a clipboard for him as she watched his chest rise and fall in stuttering, halting movements. The nurse suggested that he would be moved from ICU after his surgery and that his breathing was getting better. She did not know how long his coma would last.

Now Hinata had come back to report this to her father. The shape of the Estate had changed since morning, with black cars stretched across their circle driveway, parked and gleaming against the afternoon light. There were guards at the front who nodded to her as she entered, and more spread throughout the manor. As she walked through her home, she imagined that most of the men had retreated into the theatre, where surely meetings were underway. 

This was different from an Affair. Though she guessed that there would be one soon. 

She continued to the West Wing where tatami mats greeted her and made her steps feel softer and less intentioned. She stopped abruptly at her father’s office when she heard voices waft through the soft walls. All familiar, but only one made the hair on the back of her arms stand up. They were here because he was not allowed in the theatre, he probably did not even know that such a thing existed. 

“You need an ally,” Gaara was saying, his voice gruff like sandpaper being rubbed together in her ears. “That much is clear.”

“That could be true,” another voice said, one she had not heard in a while. It was low and thoughtful and sounded like gravel under a tire. Nara Shikaku. He had made the trip fast. “But last I heard, Hinata was attacked under your supervision.”

The room went quiet. Someone stood up. Hinata shrunk back into the shadows. A lighter flickered. Quietly, she heard her father offer Shikaku a cigar. 

It was good that Shikaku was there, but it also meant that it was dangerous. Something heavy lodged in her throat. Shikaku only came to assist her father in Konoha when real shit was going down. His brilliance, wisdom, and experience outranked everyone except Hiashi himself. Even Hizashi, when he was living, was red-faced and stuttering when Shikaku came to town. It was a point of contention.

Hanabi and Hinata had loved Uncle Shikaku more than Hizashi, running into his arms when he would come from Osaka and sometimes overseas, bearing gifts. He delighted in them, too. When Hinata was kidnapped, the tiger had been his idea. He was fiercely protective of them all. When Shikamaru was small and still lived with his father in Osaka, he would come back to Konoha with him on trips, and Hinata would sit with him and Neji as he thrilled them with stories about Syndicate life on that side of the country. To them, Shikaku was a hero, just like Hiashi. 

Shikaku declined the cigar and must have pulled out a cigarette, which Hinata smelled as the thick scent blew out the door. “I mean no hard feelings,” he drawled out. “But I care deeply about that girl. How can you propose such a thing if you have already failed to protect her? Am I correct in assuming that it was the Uchiha bastard who brought that scum to his knees?”

“You’re incorrect,” Gaara cut in, though his voice sounded less confident than before. “It was Hinata who extrapolated herself.”

“So, as it stands,” Shikaku continued without a beat, though his voice swelled with pride. “Neither man truly prevented harm.”

“You’re suggesting that image is enough. That image is a fear tactic. How do you figure? Is Suna so powerful that we need you?” Hiashi’s voice cut through then, changing the subject to one of less feeling. Hinata was grateful, she didn’t like being discussed, but the feeling didn’t last. Panic still welled. 

“That’s not what I’m saying, Hiashi-sama,” Gaara’s voice came out respectfully, mild. He had switched gears, accessed the situation, and changed his angle. Hinata knew this routine so well it made goosebumps appear on her flesh. What was the playing at? “I’m saying that if we show them--Akatsuki, Orochimaru, whomever--that we are united somehow, it will change everything. We are both powerful enough to stand alone, that much the decades have proven. But together? I don’t think anyone has seen anything like that before. It could change everything.”

The room fell silent again. Nobody moved. 

Gaara went on, “Respectfully, you both are my elders. Your years in the business have been exceptional and Suna is grateful to be your ally and not your enemy. But you called me here for a reason. I know we have had years of instability--”

Hinata could practically feel the tension rise in the room, like Hizashi’s ghost hovered above their heads. 

“--but we have passed that uncertainty. It was before my time.” Now Hinata felt the vomit she had been holding in climbing her esophagus. Before his time? What bullshit. It was not before his time when he was throwing her around, screaming, red in the face about the loss of his Uncle Baki. Even in the steam room his confidence and anger had been appalling. Now he was acting as if all that was beyond him?

But Hinata could not forget. He was the head of his own syndicate, and that made him one of the most powerful men in the city. Gaara went on, “I would be remiss to not mention my own insecurities. If you are being attacked, we all are. We’re partners, are we not? I’m sorry I put Hinata in harm's way and it won’t happen again under my careful watch, but...this is our chosen line of work.”

What the fuck was happening? Hinata shrank further back as their shadows converged. She was shaking all over. She could not grasp at all what the three of them were talking about. And what did it have to do with her? And why was Gaara pretending to care about her? 

“You will move the weapons from the desert patch overnight,” Hiashi said heavily, after another beat of stillness. The silence of the room felt as if it hurt. Hinata was having trouble breathing, too. Hiashi’s voice was hard:  “We will receive them in bulk, and I will arrange a Tiger tomorrow night like you wanted. I will continue to hold the Byakugan File--that is non-negotiable. As far as my daughter goes...”

Her breath caught. How had she become a negotiating piece? Would it always come to this?

“Perhaps you are right, image is a powerful thing, and I can see this obvious alliance shaking the city. It will disrupt everything we know. Hinata is my pearl but she is also the dragon who protects it, so I cannot in good conscience release her to you. Hinata,” he called to her so suddenly, that she jumped. He had known she was there the whole time. “Make yourself known and tell us what you think.”

She walked into the room with halting steps, flushing a deep red at being caught in the shadows. Shikaku and Gaara looked startled to see her, Shikaku’s facial expression of mixed emotion: pride, alarm, irritation, while Gaara’s was erased clean after he’d filtered the initial shock away. 

Hiashi had always been in tune with Hinata’s movements. It happened after the kidnapping, and he taught her how to turn her meekness into a strength. He was the one who taught her stealth, and he would never let her, or himself, forget it. 

“Could you c-clarify , Father?” She asked. She stood now in the center of the room, giving Shikaku a small smile, and avoiding Gaara altogether, whose body was radiating with agitation. He was too proud to think she’d be given a say. He was too confident. 

Shikaku smiled kindly at her, stepping forward to give her a familiar hug. “Things are bad, Hinata,” he said, his voice the softest it had been. “We need help. We called Gaara here to see if Suna could be of assistance. He suggested some sort of overt alliance. It was me who suggested a romantic guise between himself and...well, it wasn’t supposed to be you, specifically.” Now he looked sheepish. “I was going to say Hana or...or Ino.”

She tried not to let scorn flash across her face. It would never be Ino, who was all but engaged to his son. It would always be her. It didn’t matter that she and Gaara had already been together for real. It didn’t matter that he had harmed her. And it didn’t matter that she told no one about it. This was Syndicate business, and it took precedence over all of that. 

She took a breath. “And...w-what will that require of me?”

Hiashi took a glass from his desk and filled it with brandy. “Much of what you already do well,” he said as he swished the beverage around. “Playing the part. Gaara has a big meeting, a boys club of sorts, that requires a date. We thought you would fit in well, and surprise a few people while we're at it. It is not without additional benefits for the Syndicate.”

“And...and Suna,” Hinata. She thought of the Tiger. 

Gaara said nothing.

“Exactly,” Hiashi said, his voice its own confident room in the small square of an office. “I can’t promise that this will be the only outing, but I can say that it will change the trajectory of the long game. We’re going to shake some things up.”

He handed Hinata the cup of brandy. When she closed her fingers around the glass, Hiashi’s hands caressed hers. Since her father rarely touched her, she looked down in surprise. That was when she noticed the four-finger gesture of quiet. Be still. Be still . Be careful with this one.

This would be her new mission. Her focus shifted from Shenji to Gaara. Her father did not trust this man. He did not like this ask that used his daughter as a ploy. But he was going to use her back. And she would come back to him with information. Hyuga’s played the long game, after all. 

“Of course, father,” Hinata said, her nerves bundled inside her body like a beehive. If only he knew what she already did of the type of person Suna Gaara was. “Understood.”

Chapter Text

There used to be this grand entrance to the Uchiha Compound that had glass doors. It was bold for the home of a national crime leader, but no one dared to tell Fugaku that. He knew what he was doing. He prided in that boldness, drank it in like liquor, and taught it to his children. 

Sasuke spent many evenings beside that door, peering out into the night to watch his brother or father or uncles come in and up the driveway, their cars beacons of light in a forest. The compound, you see, was surrounded by trees. A forest in a city. It was an impeccable piece of land, centuries-old, and belonging quietly to the Uchihas. 

The trees were tall and could be considered frightful, depending on the night and the weather. Sasuke was a welcome friend to them as a child, often swinging from their limbs, climbing their bodies, and stumbling over their feet. He climbed a few dozen of them with Itachi. When he turned six, some uncles built him a treehouse, just past the weapons vault and behind the tennis court, expertly placed among the trees that bordered his treasured soccer field. 

This land was treasured. Revered. The house itself had a porch that looked out onto its amble lands. It was purposely built to face the west so that the family could watch the sunset while eating dinner. Fugaku spent many nights nursing a drink on this porch, often having his most important and confidential conversations while looking out into a red-orange sky. Mikoto planted entire gardens of food in the space in front of the porch and took pride in sending visiting syndicate members home with paper bags full of produce. 

There was a small river that ran just past Sasuke’s treehouse where Fugaku taught him how to fish. There was also a structure built near the water, where many secrets came to pass. It was all huge and mysterious to him as a child. The compound was his whole life. 

Now it was nothing.

 It was a vast empty lot, overcome with weeds and plantlife attempting to take claim. Sasuke did not know that it had been demolished. The concept seemed inconceivable to him. Demolished. Eradicated. Gone. 

He pressed hard on the gas, his car sliding down the expressway as if on ice. He hadn’t known. He hadn’t even thought to check. In foster care, he yearned for this place. He saw it in his dreams. He woke up thinking he saw his mother sending fresh fruit up the pulley system he and Itachi had engineered for his treehouse, her smile a sun of its own kind. He woke up biting into freshly grown tomatoes, the juices spilling onto his skin, the seeds bursting in his hands. Everything felt so real and tangible, he just knew he would be back someday.

When ANBU found him, all that went away. He stopped dreaming of climbing the trees. He stopped dreaming of sunset dinners and warm bread and tart lemonade. He was trained to forget. There was no reason for him to visit because he would not be who he once was when all was said and done. He would be invisible, nameless, identity-less. An agent whose allegiance was to no one except ANBU itself. 

He trained long and hard. He became a prodigy. He became awarded. He had no interest in spying, or infiltration, or any of the convoluted work that required an amenable personality. With sharp eyes, he hand-selected the assassin track. He could be even more unknowable here. He could forget everything . 

His request was denied when he turned 17. There was no reason attached to the denial. Direction from above rarely provided reason, only commands. Instead, he was assigned to a team. They trained together for six months before being assigned their first mission as a unit: The Orochimaru bust. 

Memories hit Sasuke’s frontal lobe like explosives, but he could only dig so far until he reached a wall. He liked it like that, it felt safe. As time went on, the more he thought about the compound, the less he could remember. What color has his bedroom been? How many bathrooms did they have? Were the tiles on the kitchen backsplash yellow or orange? Did his treehouse have stairs or a ladder?

Instead, his nightmares started. He remembered the things that he especially did not want to. Soccer fields and gunshots. Long nights sitting in front of the glass door, waiting for his family to come home. Dark hallways. Packages coming down the river. Bleeding men appearing on their porch at dusk. Rifles being retrieved from the weapons vault. 

Dog sat him down one day, his gray hair falling over his eyes, and asked in a serious tone if he remembered anything at all about Orochimaru. Sasuke said he didn’t. Dog told him to forget everything else. “This mission will dreg up everything if you let it. And if you let it, we will fail this mission.”

So he stuffed it all down. The nightmares, the dreams he still had in passing, all of it. He did not think of the compound at all after that. The mission was the most important thing. It hadn’t even crossed his mind to visit.

Now it was gone. 

-

Sasuke pulled his car into the driveway of the Estate, parking it behind a black Lexus. It sat in line with an entire group of vehicles; it looked to be a busy week for the Hyuga Syndicate.

It hadn’t even been a full 24 hours since Naruto’s injury, and still, everything felt different. Night had fallen. ANBU gave him no answers but asked questions with open mouth. Tomorrow he would meet with Itachi. Tonight, he tried to think of nothing. He had been trained for it. But the space where the nothing was supposed to go was instead filled with Hinata.

On his way home, he thought about how he had answered her frantic call but did not come. He did not feel bad perse, but was perplexed by the nagging in his stomach. Perhaps he worried that his absence would breed suspicion among the Hyugas.

But no one spared him a second glance when he walked through the front doors. The new security guard nodded hello as he passed. When he walked down the hallway that held the entrance to the theatre, the guard there paid him no mind. It wasn’t until he came upon the double-doored sanctuary near the back of the home that he’d heard a single voice. 

Humming. 

One of the doors was propped open. Sasuke peered in, his eyes settling on Hinata’s figure as she sat on top of her massage table. Half of her hair was up in a bun, and the other half fell in a messy curtain as she tilted her head in concentration. She was sitting with one leg outstretched. She diligently pushed the tattoo machine into her thigh, using her left hand to stretch the skin. She hummed along with the machine a tune Sasuke didn’t recognize. 

He didn’t want to startle her into a mistake so he knocked on the door. The gentle wraps still managed to make her jump, but she didn’t ruin anything. She stopped the machine and looked up, turning pink. Her legs were long and pale under her––Sasuke had never seen her wear short shorts. 

“S-Sasuke!” She exclaimed, setting the machine on her tray. “What are you d-doing here?”

He shrugged, “You told me to come.”

Hinata snorted, “Yeah, like, 15 hours ago.”

“That’s not so long,” he said. “I had to process the information.”

Hinata looked at him peculiarly, then she turned back to her tattoo. It was a thistle of lavender on the outside of her thigh. Perfect linework. She was almost done. “I didn’t suggest o-otherwise.”

Her tone was more clipped than usual. Sasuke watched her move, seeing the hard line of her brow, the frown pulling the left corner of her mouth down, and the tightness of her posture despite the fact that she was leaning over. She didn’t have many tattoos on her leg, so this seemed to be new territory. 

Overall, her energy was not right. There was something going on. He sat down in the chair across from her, “Why are you up?”

She rose an eyebrow as if to challenge him, but the energy didn’t stay on her face long. She shut off the machine: done for now. “Couldn’t sleep. It’s b-been a long day.” Then she looked at him, truly looked at him, and frowned deeper. “Why a-aren’t you? Y-you look, um...”

She trailed off. He had bags under his eyes and sweatpants on. She had never seen him wear sweatpants before. 

“You can say it,” Sasuke said. “I look terrible.”

“You look terrible,” she confirmed. She wiped the tattoo clean, then put a fresh patch of tegaderm over it, sealing it in. Then she turned around and began to tidy up. The silence between them was an entire ocean. 

Sasuke sat like his bones begged it of him. He took the time to take in the framed pieces of art on the wall––most of it flash Hinata had drawn for tattoos. Her work was lyrical: three swans dancing in a pool of water, swords embellished by floating ribbons, women with fierce eyes who peered at nothing. He listened to the sound of her opening and closing drawers, wondering aloud, “Were you serious when you said you’d draw a tattoo for me?”

“Hm?” Hinata looked up over her shoulder at him, trendles of hair falling from her bun. Her distraction was endearing, and it reminded Sasuke of his sudden, insane attraction to her. He felt this in his throat and he hated it. “O-of course. It’s...it’s um, up in my room. Would you like to see it?”

The Uchiha nodded. Hinata said nothing as she finished cleaning her station, wiping down the massage table, and disposing of her used needles. Without a word, she shut off the lights and didn’t look back as Sasuke followed her. He climbed the stairs to her bedroom, privately grateful that there was no security walking down this hallway. Then he realized that Hinata had probably intended it this way, choosing the back stairway through the kitchen.

Her bedroom was the second door to the right. She opened the door and gestured him through. Sasuke wasn’t surprised by the design: a minimalist’s bedroom with a king-sized canopy bed in the middle, gently decorated with satin sage green sheets. She had a desk in one corner (covered in books and such) and a vanity in the other (neat, tidy, and unused looking). There was a tan ottoman at the foot of her bed that she opened and pulled a sketchbook from. Then she closed it and gestured for him to sit.

He sat. She folded open the book to reveal a page that sent a shock through his system, but he contained it well. Looking up at him were three sleek Ravens in total, two sitting on a piece of birch wood, one in flight.  The one with its wings spread had a sharp knife within its talons. Its mouth was open.

For a sharp, biting moment, he wondered if he had been made. 

Hinata didn’t look at him–– instead, she slid her hands down the page, tracing the lines of ink. She’d drawn it with what looked like a ball-point pen. “I s-saw some ravens a while ago and thought they were beautiful,” she handed the paper to him and he held it gingerly, trying to imagine where he would fit it on his body. “Then, I saw you looking at a raven that was bouncing on some cold concrete. I saw the bird look at you, and you looked like kindred spirits.”

Sasuke slipped a handle of scotch out of his back pocket with his free hand and gestured towards her. She wrapped her fingers around the bottle, her lips quirking up curiously. The light in her bedroom was dim: she had a small lamp on at her bedside, but it was framed by a couple of towering palm-like plants. The lamp cast a low orange room over their figures. 

She took a hefty swig without preamble; whatever she was going through seemed difficult enough without Sasuke digging his nose in it. Sasuke extended his hand to take the bottle back, but she merely held up a finger: wait , and swallowed a couple of gulps more. 

Sasuke watched her neck move as she drank the liquor. He took the bottle back when she finally offered, took some sips of his own, and banished the Uchiha Compound from his mind completely with that drink. A Spy trick. It wasn’t real if he could not see it––if he could not feel it. 

He handed the bottle back and she took yet another drink. She let her hair fall from its bun, then she said: “but I think ravens travel in a pack, called a murder. You’re more of a lone wolf, no?”

“No,” Sasuke said. “Murders are for crows. Ravens travel in pairs.”

“Hm,” she looked at the drawing. “Maybe I’ll get rid of one.”

“Don’t worry about it,” the Uchiha found himself saying. “This drawing is perfect.”

Perhaps the scotch was finally getting to him, but he was aware of how close they were sitting on this ottoman, with Hinata’s plush-looking bed behind them. He watched her untuck her leg from where it had been underneath her, standing to her full heigh. “I-I’m glad you think so. Where would y-you want it tattooed?”

They were so close that he could smell the scotch on her mouth. He leaned back against her bed, tilting his head up to look at her, “You’re the artist. You tell me.”

Hinata flushed red, but she didn’t hesitate. She walked across the room and cut out the outline of the ravens, leaving the extra scraps of paper on a pile of books on her desk. She held the drawing up to his forearm, measuring it against his bicep. Her arm was outstretched as if she were afraid to touch him in the dark of her bedroom. “Here?”

“Perhaps,” Sasuke intoned mildly. He looked at her expectantly, amusement briefly dancing behind his gaze. “Let’s try somewhere else, Hyuga princess.”

“T-tough crowd,” she commented idly. She moved it down to his forearm, resting the image there. “W-what about this?”

“Seems too obvious.”

Hinata scoffed––a sound he had never heard her make before. She had a small but loose smile on her face, “That’s not obvious. This is obvious,” she said, and held the outline up to his chest, just under his collarbone. This pulled her considerably closer to him, her hand firmly planted against his chest, and her body hovering over him. One of her knees was planted firmly on the futon, while the other found solid ground.

“Oh? This is?” he raised his eyebrows, looking up at her. 

Hinata nodded, looking down at him. Her eyes were wide, and her mouth was parted as if she was going to say something. Sasuke watched the slow spread of blush across her cheek, saw the way her hair swayed to the side of her head like a curtain, and felt her body tense as she considered her next move. Sasuke had already figured out his.

He kissed her. 

She seemed to be expecting this, her lips parting easily to allow him to envelop them in his. She sighed into his mouth, the taste of alcohol wrapping around their bodies. It’s like she had expected this to happen––like both of them had––how easily their mouths found movement together. Hinata’s hand moved to wrap behind his head, leaving its place from his chest and dropping her illustration to the ground between them. 

“Fuck,” Sasuke muttered into her mouth as he realized what he was doing. He could not think of it, and he did not after that. He grabbed her waist, pulling her down from her half-standing position. Her body crumbled against him, warm and humming, she responded by wrapping an arm around his neck, her fingers tangling in his hair, pulling her his head to him. Their mouths met hungrily again, with force that threatened to knock them both off the ottoman. Sasuke could feel the heat erupting between them as she straddled him, panting with unexpected want. Sasuke wanted her. He wanted to forget about everything. And right now, she seemed to be the solution to that. 

Sasuke could feel how quickly her pulse raced as he moved his mouth to her neck. Hinata’s breath was coming fast and Sasuke was half-off the ottoman. He made an executive decision: he wrapped his hands under her knees and grabbed her, walking the few feet to her bed as he kissed Hinata with an open mouth. When he laid her down, he took his shirt off in a fluid motion, throwing it into some far corner. He stretched his body across the top of her as their mouths reunited, and his hands explored the luscious expanse of Hinata’s hips. Her arms were tight around his neck, and he could feel her back arch as he slowly moved his hands lower until they tugged at the seam of her shorts. They kissed hungrily. Sasuke worked his hand lower still, dipping over the lace of her underwear and pressing in the small, wet, mound. A low moan left her lips, a sultry sound that wrapped around Sasuke’s body and made him shiver with lust.

“Do you want me to stop?” Sasuke asked in her ear when Hinata sighed this long sigh. Neither of them had been expecting this, after all.  When she didn’t immediately respond, Sasuke stood up slowly, unwrapping their limbs from each other’s bodies, and paused to collect his breath and his senses. 

Fucking his boss’s daughter. It wasn’t required of this mission. He usually fucked on missions if it was required or could lead to some precious information, so this was new for him. It could only go poorly––especially if Hiashi, or any of them really, were to find out. But when he turned a looked at her, preparing to end this for good, his words got lost. Instead, his body reacted, leaving no room for argument. 

Hinata was laying with her midsection raised as she popped up on her elbows. Trendles of dark hair fell around her shoulders. Her t-shirt had slipped around her bra, exposing her stomach. Her tattoo twisted around her torso and dipped down into her shorts, and her legs remained open. Her mouth, too, was open, and her expression was somewhat confused, somewhat aroused, and overwhelmingly pink. Her chest was moving like her heart was trying to escape from her. 

Sasuke began to move away, but Hinata clasped his forearm, holding his gaze. “No!” she said, responding to his question with a force neither of them were expecting. “I mean––I don’t think so.” Her face pinched, “I-I’m just...I’m going through s-something.”

Sasuke looked down at where her arm gripped his and she released it as if ashamed. She turned on her side, away from him, moaning. “D-do you want to stop? Oh my god,” he could hear her say. “ Ohhhh my god. I’m s-so fucking stupid––”

It’s not that this amused him, it’s just that he didn’t quite know how to respond. No one had ever responded to him kissing them like that before. The bottle of scotch was on the floor. He grabbed it and drank from it as Hinata’s breath turned somewhat erratic beside him. There was about a shot or two left. He nudged her elbow: an offering. 

“It’s okay,” Sasuke said softly. He meant it, too. This made her look up from her web of self-pity. “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.” It would probably be for the better if they didn’t.

Hinata took the offering and finished the bottle. She held it up in front of her face and looked at him through the glass. In turn, Sasuke looked through the bottle to look at her, her body distorted against the silk green sheets of her bed. She cleared her throat and it sounded uncomfortable, “It’s n-not that I don’t necessarily....”

Sasuke shrugged, an ache in his core he would have to take care of soon, but he wasn’t going to rush her. “It’s up to you, Hyuga Princess, this is your domain. Just know––it would mean nothing to me. Just sex. It doesn’t have to mean anything to you either.”

“I’ve only ever had m-meaningful sex,” Hinata admitted, which seemed too honest for the moment, and broke whatever spell Sasuke had been trying to fabricate.

He took the empty bottle from her grip and tossed it to some far corner. He sat down next to her on her bed not touching her. “Okay,” Sasuke said, a smirk flitting the corners of his mouth as he looked over at her. “And what other embarrassing fact do you think you need to tell me tonight?”

Her chest rose as she shuddered. He wanted to take her shirt off. “I don’t––I don’t know.”

“Do you want me to leave?” Sasuke asked again, this time with finality. 

“No,” Hinata said. Her eyes were wide, wild, and lovely. When she looked at him, he saw the moon in her face and it made the energy leave his bones.

Her hand played with the edge of her shirt and he watched her peel it off her body. She grabbed his hand, and brought it to her waist, and mumbled: “Like y-you said, it w-won’t mean anything, right?”

“Right,” he said, already leaning over her body. He relished in its heat as his mouth found her left collar bone. One hand brought her arms over her head, while the other grabbed her waist and held her there. He let his breath ghost her skin as he she twitched sensually underneath him. Finally, when he got to her lips he said, “it will mean nothing at all.”

-:-

Hinata woke up a few hours later. It was 5 am, and her head was nestled under Uchiha Sasuke’s chin. They were both naked. 

And so she jolted up in surprise, tearing her head from under the Uchiha’s, sliding out from under his arms, and jumping into the frigid cold of her bedroom. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck she thought in a loop, recalling their frenzied, gratifying fucking from only a handful of hours before. Sasuke’s arms pinning her down, her mouth on his neck, their legs intertwined. Why did I do that?!

It took her a couple of minutes to realize that Sasuke had begun thrashing in his sleep. She turned away and slipped a black cotton tank top over her head along with a pair of undies that were gently folded on top of her dresser. She immediately felt better when the clothing folded over her body like a warm a hand. It wasn’t that she was uncomfortable with her body...just that she was uncomfortable with other people around her body. It didn’t matter that they had just had sex!

When she carefully slid back into the warmth of her bed, Sasuke was twitching and breathing heavily, his brow leaving an impression on his forehead. He was frowning heavily and kicking his feet. The expression on his face was of complete desolation. 

“S-Sasuke,” Hinata sleepy called his name as she watched him wrestle wither her sheets, his bare chest sleek with sweat. She pushed his shoulder, “Wake up, Sasuke, wake up. It’s...it’s okay.”

After a few more seconds of gentle shoving, he wrecked awake, sitting straight up in her bed, coughing like he was dying. Hinata patted his back like she didn’t know what else to do, too scared to turn her patting into soothing rubs. It took a few minutes, but Sasuke finally came back to Earth, his eyes blinking at her like she was some sort of alien or mythical creature.

“Why aren’t you,” he cleared his throat roughly. “Why aren’t you naked anymore?”

Hinata merely blinked at him, withdrawing her hand from his back as her face colored. “I w-was cold,” she said, lying. “But that’s not the point.”

“What’s the point then?” Sasuke stretched his hands over his head, his hair falling around his face playfully, Hinata’s duvet dipping dangerously below his waistline. He looked like a statue, all muscles, and hard lines. It was like his nightmare had not even happened. 

Hinata took it all in, thinking idly, sleepily, that Ino would have a fit over this. Still, she wanted to be serious about his abrupt awakeness. Hinata pulled the blanket over her shoulders as she looked at him. It felt like she had just stepped into an entirely different universe when she said, “I get nightmares too, you know. They leave me breathless, m-most of the time.”

Sasuke said nothing for a while. Outside, the wind bellowed in big gusts, and the trees made tapping sounds against one of Hinata’s windows. Hinata could feel the chill seeping in through the windows and Sasuke laid back down, sliding under the covers next to her, his warmth an inviting space. “I did like your drawing,” he said, instead of talking about his nightmares. “They reminded me of my childhood. The Uchiha Compound had tons of trees, tons of crows.”

Hinata hadn’t been expecting this thread of tenderness, no matter how pillow-talky and hormone-induced it could have been. She nestled her head close to his, her eyes willing him to keep going. 

“I used to try to catch them,” he said, his voice a tenor away from laughter. “Obvious, I could not.”

Hinata snorted. The wind howled outside and she shivered. Her bedroom was a vast and frozen lake outside of this king bed, and she nestled towards the center. “My m-mom used to keep birds actually,” she recalled.

Sasuke’s shoulder bumped her shoulder. He shifted more even still, radiating heat. Hinata wanted to evaporate into him. “What happened to them?” He asked. “There are no birds in captivity here that I know of.”

Hinata snorted, “Y-you only know half the things that exist here.”

A sleek eyebrow raised, but Hinata looked away into the far darkness of her room. “No, there are no birds here. We released them all after my mother committed...committed suicide.”

Sasuke made no sound, and Hinata did not look at him. Instead, she traced the tiny thread that lined the top of the duvet until she got to Sasuke’s side. Then she traced the line back to herself. “We thought it would be bad luck to keep them in cages after that. We let them out, though the p-probably died in the wild.” Hinata stopped when her fingers reached his side again. “They...they were summer birds. It would’ve been better to surrender them.”

Sasuke caught her hand and guided her arm up above his face, where he traced a line of her palm up to her elbow, sending spikes of warmth through her. He released her gently, turning his head to say, “Some birds still know how to migrate. Maybe they made it,” they were almost nose to nose. “I’m sorry about your mother.”

For some reason, Hinata said, “I’m sorry about everything.”

And she leaned in to kiss him, and he kissed her back. It was a sweet kiss that left her fingers, toes, and mouth one tingling organism. He wrapped an arm around her, and together they dove into the warmth of the covers. Perhaps this would be a one-night thing. But damn, it felt good as hell.

Not wanting the night to end when she woke, Hinata blinked her eyes closed and nestled deeper into the canyons of Sasuke’s body. She breathed in his scent of sweat and sandalwood, saying sleepily, “Go on a run with me tomorrow?”

Sasuke nodded his chin against the top of her head and said “Sure, Hyuga Princess.”

Chapter Text

The next morning, they snuck out of Hinata's bedroom like teenagers. 

Hinata took the lead, guiding Sasuke down the back stairway in the early hours of the day, and taking him to the garage where she unlocked the door to her G Wagon. She knew the guards' schedules around the house almost better than her father did. 

“Be right back,” she said, then turned around and disappeared back into her home.

Sasuke rubbed the sleep out of his eyes; the night of mourning, drinking, and fucking was a whirlwind inside his brain. He was being fucked up and he was fucked up. Many bad decisions were made in the last 24 hours––starting with his rendezvous with the former Uchiha Compound. 

Casual sex usually did not turn out this way for him. He usually eased out of bed once they finished and drove himself home. Maybe he’d even stop and get some fast food on the way. He never...stayed. He never agreed to do activities the next day. 

Even if activities were illicit ones. He reminded himself of that: this activity was an illicit activity, and therefore he was allowed to continue to hang out with the Hyuga. It was intel. He’d never been on a solo run with her before. 

“Alright, thanks for w-waiting,” Hinata swung her body into the driver’s seat, buckling her seatbelt over her body. When they woke up the second time, she rushed into her bathroom to change into some modern black bell bottoms and a turtleneck. At the garage, she shrugged on a short black puffer coat. Wryly, Sasuke had asked, “Do I need to wear black for this?”

“No,” Hinata answered. “We won’t stick out where we’re going.”

In the car, Hinata casually punched the radio, letting smooth jazz fill the vehicle. As she began to pull out, she looked at him. “Y-you don’t have to come with, you k-know? Last night––”

“I don’t have to do anything,” Sasuke said, cutting her off. “But I said I would because I wanted to.”

“Okay,” Hinata said. “W-well, thanks. Usually, Neji covers me for this, but he’s been busy with...everything.”

They fell into silence. Hinata drove out of the Estate gates and found the expressway quickly. Her driving was smooth and careful–– but fast. She was well taught in this skill, too. Sasuke watched her lean back casually and confidently in the driver’s seat. Her hair was pulled back from her face, and for once, she looked at peace. 

Sasuke decided to ruin it: he leaned back too, lifting the corner of his mouth into a smirk as he asked her: “So, do you want to talk about last night?”

Hinata blanched, but the car remained on its straight path. Her face colored considerably, “W-what do you want to talk about?”

“Well, did you enjoy yourself?” 

Hinata coughed, her eyes hard on the twisting expressway. Her hands turned the wheel slightly to accommodate. She cleared her throat, “Um, y-yes. I think I did. D-did you?”

“I did,” Sasuke confirmed, and it was true. Her body was warm and soft under his fingertips, nothing like the hard lines of the agents he usually went for. Agents were the safest options. Civilians were fine too sometimes, but they were too curious, always wanting more. And on missions, he usually only went for the malleable type if it benefitted the case, and those women were always the wildcard. 

Hinata, though, was different. He didn’t know why or how––just that she was different. It wasn’t unusual for him to be attracted to a woman during a mission, but it was that he felt the attraction so intensely. Every time he looked at her, fire raced through his body. He remembered how she smelled, how she sounded, the way she gripped his shoulders.

But he kept all that to himself and looked out the window. Hinata merged to an exit. 

“M-maybe...” She pulled the car to a stop at the red light. “Maybe we can do it again?”

Her face was bright red, and the set of it was somewhat entertaining, but the thought of fucking her again made Sasuke forget the teasing. Instead, he made eye contact with her and said “I wouldn’t be mad at that.”

Hinata cleared her throat again. She made a couple more quick turns before she released a long breath and said, “Okay! We’re here.”

They were both somewhat hot when they exited the car, but the cold was a reminder of the circumstances. Sasuke looked at the sign above them that read in giant purple letters: YAMANAKA FLOWERS. A man was standing beside the entrance, smoking, and Sasuke watched Hinata nod to him as they walked through the entrance.

“You buyin’ me flowers, Hyuga?” He asked dryly. “I knew it was good but––”

Hinata elbowed him hard in the side. It probably would’ve hurt more if it weren’t for his own winter jacket. They shuffled into the front door, and Sasuke jostled her side in retaliation so Hinata pushed him until they were expelling tiny laughters from their open mouths. 

“You two are in a good mood,” a voice called from somewhere among the large and affronting fauna. Sasuke felt pissed just by the size of some of the plants.

“Morning, Ino,” Hinata called to the blonde, who materialized wearing an apron and carrying a bag of dirt. 

Sasuke had never seen her do manual labor before, so her ensemble seemed a bit ridiculous. He said as much: “I’ve never seen you do work.”

The statement had the desired effect. Ino wrinkled her nose in irritation and her attention shifted from their giggling faces to Sasuke’s unceremonious appearance at her store. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Sasuke shrugged. Hinata distracted herself by digging keys out of the bottom of her tote bag. Keys and..some tools, which she then asked Sasuke to hold. 

“It was merely an observation,” he said, grabbing the screwdriver and other various metal parts. Hinata began to walk ahead of him and he followed, though an angry Ino was hot on their tail, steam blowing from her ears. 

“I’ll have you know that I practically run this place! Do you know how many motherfucking flowers I grow in the span of a week?”

In front of him, Hinata moved a few plants out of the way of a door that looked like it led to a storage closet. She glanced at a clipboard and marked something off with a pen. When Sasuke followed her inside the room, he glanced at the clipboard. It was shipment information for radishes. 

Cocaine probably , he mused, as he slipped past the door. Hinata had stopped short, and so her backside rubbed against him and they jolted apart like two opposite magnets. Ino forced her way in, swinging the door all the way so that it hit the wall with a hard smack. 

“Does that mean nothing to you, Uchiha? When have you ever given something life, you––”

“Ino,” Hinata’s voice said softly as she squatted before a safe Sasuke hadn’t noticed before. There were magazines and a pair of pink gloves on top of it. “You know the rules. Please?”

“Fine,” Ino said, unhappily. She crossed her arms over her chest as she glared at Sasuke. “He just pissed me off. Like, misogynistic––you know?”

“Sure,” Hinata said. “C’mon, I don’t have m-much time today.”

Ino huffed and left the room, closing the door with an irritated thud. Hinata clicked her tongue at her exit, frowning. Her jeans stretched down and exposed the small of her back, where the dark lines of her tattoo twisted across her torso and crawled down her body. 

“Why’d you have to say that to her?”

Sasuke tore his gaze away to meet her eyes. The safe clicked open easily under her palm, and she looked away. She made quick work of jostling some things that made clinking sounds––store banks probably––before she pulled out a key. She put the key in her pocket and replaced it with a new one. Then she closed the safe, twirled the combination, and stood up. 

“We done?”

“Nope,” she said. 

“Cool,” Sasuke said. “I apologize if I was too harsh. Ino is very observant, and I wanted to distract her so she wouldn’t focus on us. On you , mostly.”

“But I wasn’t being weird,” Hinata led him through yet another door, which led him to a courtyard where rows of empty pots and mounds of fertilizer lay in the path of the frosted winter sun. Sasuke imagined that in the spring, the whole place was taken up by planters with sprouting greenery. 

“No, you weren’t,” Sasuke agreed. “Not really, anyway. But..I don’t think you’ve looked in a mirror.”

She opened the camera on her phone and her mouth widened at the sight. Sasuke had left a sizable hickey on the left side of her neck. It wasn’t his best work. It was probably his worst work, actually. It was a rule, as a spy, to never leave evidence. But he knew better than anyone else that he hadn’t been acting as a spy last night.

And that was the hardest thing to contend with. He’d been irresponsible. Worse––he’d been messy . Distracting Ino was more for him than Hinata, but he figured both would be beneficial in the long run. 

Hinata swore under her breath. “You should’ve told me before we left the h-house!”

“You act like I can see in the dark. I didn’t notice until we were under the fluorescents inside.”

Hinata said nothing as she walked across the courtyard, idly yanking up the fabric of her turtleneck. There were three greenhouses in front of them, and she chose the one all the way right. She entered a code into the keypad, different from the other doors, Sasuke observed, and gestured him through. The smell of weed hit him like a punch to the throat. 

“Harvest is coming up,” Hinata said as she buried her nose into a dense bundle of marijuana. “My mom was friends with Ino’s mom. They would sit for hours in the courtyard, cutting the buds from the stems.”

“Did they get to smoke it?”

“Of course,” Hinata said. Miraculously, there was yet another door. Hinata unlocked the door with the key she had gotten from the safe. Then, she knelt in front of it. “Can you hand me that s-screwdriver?”

Astonished, Sasuke handed it to her, and she began to dismantle the lock. Within minutes, she had replaced it entirely, throwing the old turnplate into her tote bag. Once that was done, Sasuke helped her up and they entered the room, locking the door behind them. 

There was an even bigger safe in here. Hinata dove into her tote bag once more and pulled out a pair of nitrile gloves. She turned the combination, blocking it with her body until a loud click erupted in the silence of the room. Sasuke watched her move a couple of bricks of cocaine, internally congratulating himself on the guess that “radishes” indeed meant coke. 

There was a stack of yen which she quickly counted, rubber-banded, and tossed into her magical tote bag. Then she paused, reached under her shirt, and pulled out a white flashdrive. 

Sasuke’s heart practically lept from his chest at the sight of it. It was the thing he had been sent there for. It was the key to finishing this god-forsaken mission. It was the Byakugan file: the key to the city. His mission. His goal. He could turn it in, go home, and finally get the revenge on the Hyugas he’d always wanted.

A thousand scenarios flashed through his mind in that second. He could knock Hinata unconscious, kill her right there even, grab the file and head straight to headquarters. It would probably take minimal effort to lie to Ino about his hasty departure. Even less effort to disable her from acting, too. He could go straight to the headquarters downtown if he wanted, and be there in 15 minutes driving Hinata’s G-Wagon 100 miles an hour. He wondered how fast it could go and then estimated how quickly he’d get there at that speed once he picked a starting point.

He probably didn’t even have to go through the flower shop. He should jump the gate, wire a car, and be at headquarters without telling a single soul.

He could drive Hinata home, leave her unsuspecting, and re-trace her steps until he got to this safe. He could ask Sakura for some technology that will help him find the safe combination and take the file in the middle of the night. 

He would stop dreaming about the gunshots at the Uchiha Compound every night. He could stop seeing Hyuga Hizashi walk casually across their back deck, sipping liquor with his father. The Hyugas deserved to burn just like his family had. They deserved to––

Hinata slid the flash drive into the safe, patting it like it was an old friend. She shut the safe with a tired turn of the knob, then pretended to wipe the sweat off her brow. 

“I’m exhausted,” she said, smiling shyly up at him. “Thanks for g-going on this run with me. Coffee on me?”

And then he said yes. Of course. 

It’s not time yet , he reasoned with himself. I know where it is now, in any case. Besides, I still have to talk to Itachi.

And so he left the file in the safe, instead of in his pockets, where it belonged. 

-:-

When Gaara pulled up in his Jaguar, Hinata forced her discomfort back down her throat. There would be time enough for that later. 

She got into his car without saying a word, shuffling her dress over her ankles, and depositing her heel-enclosed feet carefully onto the floor of the car. She was wearing a long, satin, dress with tiny shoulder straps the color of eggplant. Her shoes were basic black heels, and she had a classic, Hyuga fur coat draped over her arms. Earlier that day she had gotten a message from Gaara saying that attire was black-tie. 

“Hello to you, too,” Gaara grunted as he pulled away from the Estate. Hinata watched her home get smaller in her rear-view mirror. “As I hope you’ve been informed already, this isn’t the big meeting. We’re just testing the waters. Fortunately, you look the part--hopefully, you can act right.”

Hinata held in a scoff. It wouldn’t help her in this situation. What of his acting? What of his behavior? Hinata tugged her dress down in the back, rubbing the spot where she had hidden a flat knife at her thigh. “So, who are we meeting tonight?”

“My immediate family, mostly. It’s a closed meeting with weapons traders from Korea. They want to make sure that my claim is accurate before the Boys Club Meeting.”

“And w-what claim is that?”

Their eyes met as Gaara pumped the gas, “That we are in a loving relationship. That the Hyugas have a great stake in Suna’s business decisions. Unfortunately, your name alone is its own power. You probably know nothing about that.”

Already, Hinata wanted to stab him. Maybe she would.

-:-

The supermarket was crowded for a normal Friday. Crowded, even, for a rural seaside town like Kumozuhongocho. Sasuke had driven four hours from Konoha just to get there. Now he glanced at the blue and pink Keiko’s Fresh Market sign in blank curiosity. It featured an illustration of a smiling girl holding a small red fish. He’d never heard of it before, but apparently, seafood was half-priced or buy-one-get-one-free on Fridays. 

When he walked in, a congested teenager in a pink apron greeted him with a small wave, saying “Welcome to Free Fish Fridays. Can I help you find something?”

Sasuke told him he was looking for imitation crab, which apparently did not fall under the umbrella of Friday Fish Deals. He browsed the aisles, carefully avoiding elderly women leaning on their full carts, and children who had run too far away from their parents in search of the candy section. In aisle 5 he located the bagged crab and he took it from the freezer.

He held the cold bag in his hands, remembering how on chilly days, his mother would ladle oil into a pan in the kitchen while Sasuke carefully folded wonton around the crab, cream cheese, and whatever else the two of them had conspired up. His mother loved cooking, loved trying new things, and her crab rangoon concoctions were one of her guilty pleasures. She often called it a cheap and silly snack.

Sasuke had let his guard down. Someone snatched the bag from his hands and Sasuke immediately dropped into a defense position, throwing his arms in front of his body like a biting snake. The offending person stepped aside, chucking as he dropped the crab into his cart. It was full of things for dinner: a whole fish, green onions, mixed vegetables, rice, and various seasonings and sauces. An ice bag on the bottom rack began to leak on the wheels. A pack of beers sweated profusely. 

“Little brother,” the person said, watching Sasuke who did not move from his position. He smiled, “I knew you would come.”

Uchiha Itachi stood next to him, 13 years older, but otherwise almost entirely the same. His hair was longer but still tied back behind his head. He still had long eyelashes and a severe jaw. And he looked harmless in civilian clothes, just a brown wool sweater, and green jogging pants. 

“Come,” he said casually as if it hadn’t been 13 years since they’d last seen each other. As if Itachi wasn’t in a mercenary group that had almost killed Sasuke two years ago. As if there was not an entire bloodline of dead family members spread between them. “I’m making dinner.”

Sasuke said okay.

-:-

Gaara had his hand on her waist. It felt familiar and alarming all at once. Together, they entered a private dining club that was made up of dark mahogany, velvet walls, and giant haunting paintings of old men. The frames were gaudy and gold, glistening against the candle-lit tables. 

The dining club was quietly made up of men in suits and women in formal gowns, all sitting at pearl-white table settings and whispering amongst themselves as if they enjoyed telling each other very private things in a partially-public place. Gaara nodded in greeting to a few very endowed-looking men, whose wrists shine with wealth. When he knew they hadn’t quite yet looked away, he kissed her cheek.

The waitstaff practically refused to look any of them in the eye. The host led them to the bar, where Temari and Kankuro waited with flashing eyes. Kankuro looked like he wanted to devour her right there. Gaara tightened his grip, squishing Hinata against his body...and she smiled. 

“Kankuro-san, Temari-san, so l-lovely to see you again. It’s been t-too long....” She felt her voice fade as their expressions were unmoved.

“ Slut ,” Temari said, turning her back on her. Her blonde puffs were adorned with what looked like diamonds that glinted against the candlelight. She was wearing a floor-length, deep orange gown that wrapped around her middle and exposed one shoulder.  Her nails were long, pointy, and matched that same dangerous color. She took a sip of wine and didn’t turn back.

To her credit, Hinata was unphased. Temari had never liked her; though, calling her a “slut” seemed uncalled for, considering it was Gaara who had requested her presence. 

“Play nice, now sister,” Kankuro said, his voice big in the small space. His suit was clean and dark but somewhat wrinkled around the waist as if it had been hastily put on. “It’s impolite to use such language around such beautiful company.”

“and with great pedigree,” Gaara said. His hand traveled lower, his ringed fingers roughly pressing through the fabric, and Hinata stepped away idly. She picked up the drink menu and reminded herself that she was here for her family. The Syndicate was in trouble. This was one way to fix it, even if the siblings were standing in a circle, speaking as if she were a show dog. 

“I’ll have scotch,” Hinata said to the bartender, and suddenly remembered the night and morning she’d spent with Uchiha Sasuke. “S-straight, please. No ice.”

She sipped it as the siblings talked. Gaara pulled her to his side roughly, his hand an iron weight around her waist. His fingers tapped against her dress mildly. It was stressful to be so close to him, but not difficult. His touches felt familiar, even if they were rough. She remembered being a teenager and being so lost in love with him it hurt. If her teenage self could see them interacting in this way together, in public, she would’ve rejoiced. She would’ve cried. Teenage Hinata did not think such a union would be possible.

But this teenage Hinata did not yet know the troubles that would fall between them, and it broke Hinata’s heart. It broke Hinata’s heart to think of them. 

After some time passed, a waiter led them to their private dining room, where they sat at a round table. Gaara pulled her chair so close that she was practically in his lap like he wanted it. The sibling continued to talk as if she weren’t there, boisterously telling stories about the day they had all had. Hinata briefly considered telling her father about her treatment at this place, but she quickly banished the thought from her mind. Her father wouldn’t make her do this if their alliance with Suna wasn’t necessary. Even Shikaku had thought this was the best course of action. Few could argue with Shikaku. Their other allies were few and far between in the face of this new threat. 

“Sorry I’m late,” a deep voice rang through. A man with orange hair entered the room behind a waiter who gestured him forward. “Traffic. My associate couldn’t be here either, but she sends her regards.”

“No worries,” Gaara said while he put his hand on Hinata’s knee under the table. She tried not to move. Instead, she smiled at him, then at their new guest. “I’m glad you made it, Jugo.”

Jugo took the only empty seat across from Gaara. He leaned forward, inspecting Hinata from head to toe, and their eyes made electric contact. He was sizing her up off the bat! Hinata would have turned red if she wasn’t so shocked by how brash this was. “Well damn,” he said. “You really are a Hyuga. That shit’s crazy.”

Hinata simply smiled. She brought her hand to rest on top of Gaara’s and said, “Excuse me? W-what’s crazy about that?” She looked at Gaara, her brows creasing, “We...w-we love each other.”

She thought for a moment she was laying it on a little too thick, but Gaara just squeezed her thigh under the table and looked at her, his green eyes swirling with something she could not discern. The “love” tattoo on his perfect forehead mocked her. She wanted to put two fingers against it, and shove hard. 

“Like Romeo and Juliet ,” Temari said dryly as she tore into a piece of bread. “Except no one has died.”

Yet. The threat hung loosely in the air. Hinata threaded her fingers through Gaara’s and squeezed. He took his hand from her thigh and slung it across the back of her chair. They probably looked like the perfect couple: her in her satin dress, him in his dark suit, smiling at their new business partner. All she needed was a ring.

“It’s n-not like that at all,” Hinata sent Temari a pointed look that probably came off as more timid than brave to the stranger. “My father approves of Gaara. He’s no idiot, h-he saw the strengths in such a union in this climate.”

“And your father is Hyuga Hiashi?” Jugo looked to her for confirmation.

“I’d be a fool to lie about that,” Hinata said.

“Hmph,” Jugo said appreciatively. He nodded, then he turned 100% of his energy towards Gaara.  “For fucks sake, combined y’all will run Konoha and this entire country. This is some good damn breeding. I’m in. At the Boys Club next month? I’ve got your back. After that, too. Shit.”

Garra smiled thinly, raising his glass of cognac. “Excellent. It’s a deal then. Dropship the rifles before that and you won’t have to question our support again.”

“Hyuga’s included,” Hinata said, jutting her chin forward. “We thank you for your support.”

Gaara shook Jugo’s hand, and Hinata stuck hers out too. Suddenly, she and her ex-boyfriend were a power couple, and she couldn’t wait to go fucking home. 

-:-

After Itachi checked out at the grocery store--ruefully, casually, as if nothing was wrong--they walked for several miles along the coast. The water was not frozen, but it was frigid and the wind was stiff and unrelenting. Sasuke clenched his teeth and told himself to be grateful that there was no ice. Itachi whistled casually beside him. They were carrying two bags each. 

Soon, they were quite far away from the town center. They walked past frozen fields that had signs advertising radishes (actual radishes this time, Sasuke noted idly), and tiny homes that looked seconds away from sinking into the ground. The sky was gray and covered in great clouds, the sun just a suggestion behind its thick cover. 

Finally, Itachi turned on a dock. There was only one boat there. He dropped his bags and began to undress without a word, pulling his coat off, then his sweater, and finally his T-shirt underneath. His skin was pale and familiar.

Sasuke understood. He dropped his bags too and did the same until they were both standing freezing in their underwear, pretending to be unbothered by the cold. “No wire,” Sasuke said. “I’ve got no phone either. I’m tech free.”

Itachi didn’t appear to be wearing anything either. He nodded and put his clothes back on. When he pulled his joggers back on, Sasuke saw the Uchiha fan tattoo on his ankle and felt strange nostalgic comfort at the sight of it. He hadn’t gotten it covered or removed.

They grabbed the bags and boarded the only boat that was docked there, a small houseboat with chipped yellow paint and a statue of a serpent woman at its bowsprit. Itachi led him to an even smaller kitchen and started, without preamble, slicing up the fish. The boat rocked unsteadily. There was a tiny couch at the entrance and a doorway past the small stove. A bedroom, perhaps. 

“Dice up some garlic for me?”

Sasuke let his annoyance settle into the pit of his stomach. There was a basket full of garlic and he grabbed a head. A wooden cutting board was on the counter, and Itachi handed him a knife. He looked at him out of the corner of his eye, “Do you live here or something?”

“Sometimes,” Itachi said, unaffected. “I live many places.” 

“Hm,” Sasuke said, dicing away. Itachi was silent beside him and began sprinkling seasoning over the pink flesh of the fish. Sasuke cut a lemon from the basket in half, and handed it to him. Itachi nodded and squeezed it over the seafood. 

They were standing stiffly. This was how they would cook at home with their mother, each dutifully handling a step in the process, handing the other something they thought might taste good. The easy fall into such a routine felt overwhelming. There was too much to say at once; an ocean between them, and yet they were on a boat, aromas of food sifting between them like they were about to eat dinner against a sunset and talk about their vacation plans.

“Why did you tell me to come?”

“You have questions you want to ask me, Outoto. And not just about how I’ve been living,” Itachi slowly rolled up the sleeves of his sweater, exposing muscled and scarred forearms. “At present, I don’t think relationship building is on the agenda for tonight, but I figured a good meal would be a worthwhile cover story. When I left scratched yen on the bar table, I wasn’t sure you would remember what it meant.”

“It was a test?”

“Most things are tests. If you failed it would mean you had forgotten your roots, and this conversation would be a pointless one. But you passed, and I see it is ANBU who has failed to make a good subservient agent out of you.”

Sasuke bristled at this, feeling the hair rise on the back of his neck. Itachi collected the garlic as if nothing was happening, throwing it into a hot pan sizzling with a tablespoon’s worth of butter. He plucked leaves off of dill growing at the windowsill, throwing it into the pot too. He must have been living in the boat for a while, at least a couple of weeks, to maintain the fresh dill. Sasuke could feel the heat from the pan on his skin. 

“So what?” He asked, tone low, dangerous. It was true that they had told student agents to forget everything from their past during his training, even going as far as drilling it out of them using numerous psych evals and mental exercises. But Sasuke was an Uchiha first. He’d buried the memories, sure--they were painful ones after all--but they didn’t disappear. 

Naruto couldn’t remember a damn thing about the time before agents had found him in high school. Sakura only had memories of an aunt who had taken care of her after her parents’ car accident, and she barely even remembered that. It wasn’t that their lives started at ANBU, it was that they had all chosen to forget the past. 

“Think about what it means to train young men and women, who are estranged from their families in one way or another, in espionage. Think of what it means to have them untether themselves from where they came from. They lose who they are. They lose who their ancestors are.”

“Sure,” Sasuke said. “Again––so what?”

“Little brother you have always been brash,” Itachi said. “But you are no idiot. You know how important the ancestors are, and so you have not made yourself forget. In any case...you now eat with the Hyugas as you work toward their downfall. Why?”

Sasuke turned abruptly, his lips curling, “It’s classified, Itachi. You know that.”

“You wouldn’t be here if there was no reason for doubt,” Itachi gently placed a lid over the fish. He turned and leaned against the small counter. He and Sasuke were toe-to-toe in the small aisle of the kitchen. The sun emerged from its cloudy hideaway, sending meager rays into this small kitchen, making Itachi’s gaze sharp and divine. “And I can tell you have doubts, little brother. You haven’t changed, and you would not have come if you didn’t need anything. Let me know if I’m wrong. If I am, I’m happy to see you back to the town center.”

Sasuke gritted his teeth, his fists curling at his sides. It seemed that Itachi was still fond of making him feel little with his words, making him question his actions, and turning his words around in his mouth. But it was true--he had come with questions. All of the weeks’ madness swirled into too many questions. “You’re not––wrong.”

Itachi nodded. “I didn’t think I was. Let me ask you something else, do you know who the head of ANBU is?”

Sasuke breathed heavily through his nose, feeling a cluster headache assault his senses, “No one does, not really. I only know my superiors masked, and most of them only know me that way.”

There was a beat of silence.

Something in Itachi's face slipped, and sadness clouded his gaze before he looked away. “Little brother, you have compromised so much for the idea of stability. You were young and guardian-less, and part of that is my fault, but now you must know the truth. ANBU killed our family. ANBU raided the compound that day. For years, they didn’t know either of us had survived, but when you showed up on a high school roster one day, they knew they had to fold you into the agency and mold you into whatever they wanted.”

Sasuke did not breathe, but he did think about walking away, getting into his car, and driving into a bridge. He heard the crunch of the metal, felt his body collapsing inside the car, and gladly surrendered to fate. 

In the small of his brother’s houseboat, he sat on the couch and looked at Itachi expectantly. “Tell me everything you know. Now.”

Chapter Text

Sasuke was 13 when the first ANBU recruiter showed up at his foster mother's door. He was an unmasked gentleman in a 3-piece suit and an expensive-looking laptop. They gathered in the living room as he explained the types of things that would be expected of Sasuke, should he sign up: accelerated high school courses, summer camps away with the organization, skill-building, and job training. Completely free of cost.

Sasuke never saw that man again. He began the summer program that year, which ended up being a laundry list of gymnastics courses, fitness evaluations, wilderness-preparedness lessons, and team sports. Sasuke thought it was all a big joke, but he liked going away for the summer and not having to deal with his foster family.

He was invited back for the next summer when he was 14. That’s when he met Sakura, who explained to him that when she had taken her first summer program in Osaka, she snuck and saw that the trainers were secretly grading them on their performances. “We’re here because we passed,” she said.

“Passed what?” 

She shrugged. “Something.” 

By the time he was 15, summer camp became an international boarding school. He received the offer via email. All tuition paid.  He met Naruto there when they were assigned as roommates. The classes were hard and seemed incredibly specific. They learned multiple languages and studied foreign policy with intense focus. To graduate, they had to play a sport. Combat was the recommended sport that matched Saduke’s specific credentials, his high school counselor had explained to him one day.

And so he took combat. Naruto was there too. Naruto was good at fighting: quick and light on his feet, it was like there were several of him at once. Sasuke, to his credit, learned he had more strength and precision than Naruto, his pounces almost landing perfectly on the spot he intended.

He’d had fun at boarding school, all things considered. At 17, he and Naruto were graduating at the top of their class. They were called into an office after the ceremony and were alarmed to see a person wearing a dragon mask and all-black silks from head to toe. Their voice was an unknowable combination of raspy and soft, electronic and natural, deep and high-pitched.

The dragon congratulated them on their accomplishments and the journey––the years of summer camps and boarding school––they had been on. Finally, the dragon told them about what they had been preparing for: ANBU

When they said yes almost immediately, Dragon gave them their masks, already prepared and made just for them. They would leave at midnight to go to Shikoku, where they would train intensely for 6 and a half months.

They graduated training quickly, Sasuke rising to prodigal status without much as breaking a sweat. They were assigned a team where Sasuke re-met Sakura, now Pig, and a team lead, Kakashi, or Dog, who enjoyed handling rookies. They were assigned their first mission, a hard one, as assistant intelligence to the outstanding Orochimaru case. No one expected their team to be the one to crack it wide open and send Orochimaru straight to prison: 

In just under a year, the team of ragdoll teenagers had become legendary. 

-:-

When Sasuke arrived at Sakura’s studio apartment, there were deep-set bags under his eyes. He knocked with hasty, heavy-handed movements, using a code they had made up while Dog was alive: a few quick jabbing motions with two long pauses in the middle. His knuckles burned when he was done, and Sakura opened the door like a fire had lit underneath it. 

She looked relatively relaxed, wearing workout gear with her hair tied back from her face. She had a sheen of sweat across her brow and was holding a bottle of water. The alarm that settled across her gaze was new: a consequence of Sasuke’s knocking. “What’s up, Crow?”

Still, there was a note of tension between them that could not be readily dismissed. She was still wounded about how poorly their last meeting had gone––multiple of them, in fact, had ended with one of them embarrassed, admonished, or suspicious. After Ox’s brash passivity in the face of Naruto’s coma, Sakura had been somewhat harder to reach. Ox was her mentor after all, but Naruto was her teammate. Their best friend. And she could not even visit him in the hospital, let alone seek justice. To Sakura, Naruto’s coma was ANBU’s fault just as much as it was the Hyugas. 

Sasuke staggered into the apartment, sitting at her mess of a desk, and shaking his head to clear his thoughts. It did not work. And he didn’t know quite where to start. “I just drove six hours to get here.”

“No way,” Sakura said, hesitation in her voice. She did not sit, just wavered beside Sasuke’s sitting position, taking him in. “Where the fuck were you?”

“Kumozuhongocho.”

Sakura blinked at him. “Why?”

Sasuke didn’t know how to break it to her, so he simply said: “I went to see Itachi.”

There was a strained beat. Sakura looked uncomfortable as she whispered: “Who?”

“My brother. Itachi.”

Sasuke stared at her until she sprung into action, crossing the room and walking into the small kitchen to run the dishwasher. She then turned on the washing machine, the dryer, and the bathroom sink, trying to make as much noise as possible.  “Ok, yeah. I just wanted to make sure,” she said, as she flipped a box fan out from a corner and turned the knob to make it go.  As she neared a ridiculous amount of background noise, Sasuke grabbed her arm to stop her. 

“Let’s just go for a drive, Haruno,” he said. Her eyes were wide and frantic. He could not even imagine what sort of thoughts were racing through her mind as she cast a frantic look toward where his hand was grabbing her. “I’ll explain everything.”

Twenty minutes later they were driving fast through the dark countryside, every curve in the road a mere guess because there was no light. The moon was new, and so there was no guide given from the sky, either. Sakura gnawed on her bottom lip until she got the courage to say, “What the fuck is going on with you, Sasuke?”

It was a fair question. Information rattled around Sasuke’s brain like it was trying to find a way out; he just didn’t know what order to say things. Instead, he tightened his hands on the wheel, saying very carefully: “I need you to...look into some things.”

“Oh no,” Sakura said boisterously, her hands flying up like she was surrendering. She was shaking her head, strands of pink hair falling from her ponytail. “You are not getting off that easily. You need to tell me what’s going on right. fucking. now.”

Since Haruno Sakura, also known as Pig, also known as agent 5261367, was one of his closest companions on this Earth, he told her everything. Finding the Byakugan file and leaving it. The scratched yen that Itachi left at the Akatsuki bust. The houseboat. The Hyugas. The Uchihas. ANBU. The massacre. The massacre. The massacre. 

When he was done explaining, Sakura’s eyes were wide as saucers. She was speechless for several long moments, so Sasuke filled the silence. “I also asked my brother if the Akatsuki has formal allegiances with Orochimaru, and he denied it. He agreed that Orochimaru had been a member years ago, but they severed ties after he got into trafficking. Well before the massacre and before Itachi. So it means Suigetsu was lying or just didn’t know any better who he was working for.”

Sasuke thought about the Hyuga theatre and the white-haired man who had threatened Hinata. Everything was convalescing into one big fucking problem. Sasuke didn’t know who to trust. Hinata was a whole other issue, and he took notice of the strange way his chest tightened when he thought of her being involved in all of this. She was the keeper of the Byakugan file, after all. She was a part of the Hyugas––whom Sasuke had formally wanted to eradicate. 

Now he didn’t know what he wanted. He didn’t know if they were even to blame. 

“Alright,” Sakura said. She took a deep breath, looking deep in thought. Her hands were clutching the sides of the car as Sasuke guided the vehicle along yet another curve in the road. “Alright. Do you trust Itachi?”

“Of course not,” Sasuke grunted and pressed his foot on the gas. The car shot forward in the darkness. 

“Do you trust ANBU?”

There was a pause, then he shook his head. “No, there’s been too many inconsistencies. The fact that they placed me with the Hyugas alone is a red flag,” he cursed. “I’ve been so fucking stupid.”

This was hard to admit and it was met with silence, which made the feeling worse. Sasuke recalled the meal of fried rice and fish he had shared with his brother at the helm of his houseboat, looking out to the setting sun. The sky had darkened quickly and steadily. Itachi was telling him about his years with Akatsuki, saying “No, we’re not fans of Orochimaru and his work. I would call us anarchists ...not traffickers,” his face took on a disgusted hue against the sun. There was a slew of open and empty beers between them. “We’re not good people, but we’re no Orochimaru.” 

So, back to ANBU and Suigetsu and the Hyugas. Back to the massacre. Back to the file. On and on it went. 

“Alright,” Sakura said again. She took her hands from the door handles and began to crack her knuckles, deep in thought. Then, she turned to Sasuke, her green eyes steely, even in the dark. “Well, Sasuke, you know I’ve got your back no matter what. Just tell me what I can find for you and I’ll do it. You’re right...this situation is oddly messy, I’ve never heard of anything like this at ANBU. My suggestion would be to talk to the Hyugas about what they know. Like...what even happened between them and Suna when Baki was murdered? And maybe...maybe one of them knows why Hizashi had visited the Uchiha Compound that day. Is there anyone you’re close enough to you can talk to?”

Again, Hinata flashed through his mind like a match struck in the dark. Her open face and gentle smile seemed to invite him, and her eyes were honest and thoughtful. Sasuke nodded, “Yeah. I should be able to find someone.”

Sakura hummed as if she knew already who he had in mind, but did not say anything else. “Great. You should start there. I looked into Orochimaru more since we last spoke, by the way, so perhaps that will be helpful?”

Already Sasuke had forgotten that after their last meeting, he had asked Sakura to create a file on Orochimaru so that he might begin to verify the theory that he was working with the Akatsuki. They hadn’t met since––too much had happened. That question seemed like it had been posed decades ago. “What did you find?”

“Not much,” Sakura chewed her lip again. “He hasn’t been active. He’s in solitary confinement at Ma no Sabaku. That place is impenetrable.”

“ Ma no Sabaku ,” Sasuke repeated. “The demon desert. There’s no way he’s communicating with anyone from Akatsuki from there. They’re too urban––”

“They wouldn’t have the reach,” Sakura said frankly, nodding. “Demon Dessert is the highest-security prison around. There’s no Akatsuki on file there, I checked. Three times.”

Sasuke ran through everything he knew about the penitentiary in the desert as he eased his foot off the gas and slowed the car considerably. Ma no Sabaku . It was an appropriate place for the likes of Orochimaru, but only someone close by could orchestrate an alliance with him. Sasuke had his own ideas, but they would require some background information from a certain Hyuga. 

“This ANBU thing, though...” Sakura’s voice cut through the silence, surprising Sasuke out of his own mental tirade. Sasuke glanced at her as his car pulled to an intersection: they were getting closer to her apartment. Her face was pinched with worry, a deep ‘v’ forming between her brows. This information had truly scared and perplexed her. “I’m going to look into it. If I find anything, I’ll meet you , okay? Don’t come here again until you absolutely have to. Continue the mission as normal.”

“Of course,” Sasuke agreed easily. His car stalled at the light even as it turned green. For a moment, he rested his hand on her worried ones, stopping her fidgeting. “Don’t do anything dangerous, Haruno. I’m serious. This is my problem.”

“I know that,” she huffed and swatted him away like he was a fly. “But you’re my teammate. My family . This is our mission, so we need to figure it out together.”

“Hm,” Sasuke agreed. He crossed the intersection and they continued the rest of the ride in silence. What had gone unsaid was what they had understood since the days of Dog: Their loyalties lay with each other first and ANBU second. 

ANBU could not have anticipated that.

-:-

The Estate was large enough to jog around. A few miles wide, a few miles long. It would have been the perfect place for the sport if Hinata was into jogging. 

But she was not, no matter how much she tried to convince herself. Pumping her legs and contending with her heartbeat were never things she would come to enjoy. The sweat, even in cold winter, was no help to her. She wiped the back of her hand across her brow, paused with her hands on both knees, and sucked a sob back into her chest. Her lungs vibrated with agony.

Fuck , she thought. The day had been long, the night longer. Dinner with Gaara ended with her mouth closed, lips pressed into a fine line, expression flattened to nothing. He told her not to speak out of turn during the Boys Club meeting in a couple of weeks. She could have ruined everything.

At least his touch had not been affronting and violent. For that, she could be grateful. 

She continued to rest. She was at the back gardens, where bubbling fountains stood frozen and grey against the barren landscape. Wearing only running leggings, a tight compression top, and a snug hoodie, she could still feel the burn of the breeze as it nipped her skin. She imagined the flesh of her face pink and raw and aching, her eyes dry as she attempted crying. No water came. She had frozen it all out. She only jogged when she felt like she needed to hurt herself: a distraction from all the grief her body carried. 

She could see the Estate from this distance and watched groundworkers uncoil old Christmas lights from forgotten trees behind the pool. She remained with her hands on her knees, breathing gratefully for the chance to pause. As she rested she squinted, her eyes catching a figure emerge from one of the back doors, his path a straight one moving towards her.

Within a few minutes, ones that stretched along the silence of the Estate and the bordering trees that stated the property’s end, Uchiha Sasuke was standing in front of her. He looked in a similar state: disheveled, exhausted, confused. It was strange seeing those emotions show on his face so clearly. Sure, Hinata had seen those feelings sneak out, but the Uchiha was typically quick to conceal them. If it wasn’t for her own keen gaze, she might not have seen them at all. 

Tonight was different. 

He lifted a tired eyebrow at her stance, then offered a hand. Hinata took it and straightened up, pain shooting through her hips. He didn’t let go until she had righted herself completely, grimacing softly. The night around them was a silent bubble, dimly lit by lanterns her mother had generously placed with inspired and design-oriented care. She had been the hand that made the Estate beautiful. All of her touches were maintained, but could never be replicated in the exact same way, though people tried. At every turn, especially in the gardens, Hinata felt as if she was being guided by a ghost. 

“You okay?” He asked. 

Hinata pretended to dust herself off, suddenly feeling self-conscious about her sweat and disheveled state. She brushed her hair back from her face, but she could not fake it. “No,” she said honestly. “I’m not. A-are you?”

Sasuke chuckled and it was a sound that surprised her, a deep baritone of a laugh that seemed false. “Not at all, Hyuga. Listen,” he said.

Hinata looked at him expectantly. His face was sharp under the glow of the lanterns, and she could tell he was clenching his jaw. His body was tense and he was holding tight. There was indeed something wrong, and Hinata felt the overwhelming urge to take it from him. Whatever was the hurting thing, she wanted to take it for herself. 

The emotion of that thought alarmed her, but she didn’t have time to prepare. Sasuke was saying, “I need you to tell me about something. Can you tell me about Gaara?”

Hinata stiffened, remembering the dinner, remembering the hand on her thigh. Her discomfort was obvious, her eyes fluttering away from him, “Y-you already know about Gaara...”

Sasuke shook his head and some of the tension began to leave his body. “No,” he said. “I need to know about your relationship with him. It’s important.”

-:-

Hinata led him to the shrine.

It was tucked in a far corner of the Estate, near the lines of trees that separated the property from forest. There was a small red structure built around it, to keep it safe from weather. Inside was a 3-foot-tall mahogany altar, which Hinata knelt beside, not worried about getting her knees wet.

She was grateful when Sasuke kneeled beside her to show his respect. His body was warm beside hers, and he didn’t seem to mind when she nestled closer, their shoulders touching. Before them, tall glass candles twitched inside their homes, unmoved by the wind. A gold-framed photo of Aoki Hyuga sat in the middle, bordered by fresh oranges, letters, and a dozen more candles. Hinata reached out and lit a red stick of incense. She put it into the ornate golden holder beside her mother’s urn. The urn was a fantastic ceramic oblong structure, with swirls of gold and purple glaze surrounding its round bottom. It sat in front of Aoki’s photo.

Aoki looked serene in her picture. She was sitting in her garden, the sun a beacon behind her head. And she was smiling. Beaming so hard that smile lines appeared around her eyes, but she didn’t seem to care. Her deep hair curled around her shoulders like wings. Her face was heart-shaped and blemish-free, its gentle features lifting into an inviting expression: joy.

“You look like her,” Sasuke said quietly, his voice a soft murmur. He was looking at the photograph, a small smile lifting the corners of his mouth. “I never see pictures of her inside of the Estate.”

“There’s a reason for that,” Hinata said quietly. Then, she launched into story. 

-:-

Hinata was barely a teenager when she discovered her mother’s body.

Aoki was like a swan––her limbs long and pale, all sprawled out across the deep forest green of her bathroom tile. Her nails were red as they always were, her fingers long, reaching, an arm extended as if she were asking someone to help her up from where she had fallen. Around her, bottles of little yellow pills glinted in the light.

When Hinata dropped to her knees and began to scream, she hadn’t known she was doing it. Her voice was guttural, terrified, and entirely foreign to her. Someone yanked her body away, she couldn’t for the life of her remember who, and shut the door to the bathroom. She remembered sitting bone-straight as her father carried her mother’s body out of the Estate, driving her himself to the hospital––emergency vehicles were forbidden from being called there. His face, at that moment, looked like tsunami. 

Hizashi stayed behind, his hands gripped and fisted at his sides. He watched the children as Hiashi waited, for what seemed like centuries, at the hospital. Hanabi had to be given dinner, and Neji and Hinata to be consoled. Hinata remembered the hard pats on the back Hizashi had given her as he walked behind the couch, his grief glaringly obvious like midday sun on an open terrace: you could close your eyes and still see it.

His grief was not shocking to Hinata, who malaised on the couch in her dark bedroom, awaiting her parents’ return. At that time, she was so sure that her mother would return healthy and alive, that she concerned herself with other questions the event had presented. Their importance seemed just as loud as the pills on her mother’s bathroom floor. 

Hizashi’s hands shook as he made Hanabi finger sandwiches and gave her boxes of apple juice. Hinata had been seven years old and mostly still mute when she first saw her mother embrace him, this not-father, in the garden during a rain storm. It was a few months after her kidnapping, and the loudness of the weather rattled her little body out of bed, in search of her mother for comfort. But she wasn’t in her room, and her father was away on business. 

She ran to the kitchen, where she pressed her face against the plane of the window and watched them kiss: her mother and her uncle, tears streaming down the woman’s face and mixing with the rain. Hizashi wrapped his arm around Aoki’s quaking back and led her away, towards the pool room that housed their summer supplies.

Hinata instead found safely in Neji’s room, though she did not tell him what she’d seen––her words were few and far in between at this stage of life, and besides, she could close her eyes and convince herself of dreams. 

It would be two full years before Hinata would stumble upon such an embrace like this again. At nine, with her brain maturing, and her words coming stuttered but full out of her mouth, she had had to be taught more fear than she already knew. Hizashi grabbed her upper arm until it was red, and told her to tell no one . 

Aoki, red in the face and half-dressed, had sheets pulled to her naked chest, and did not move. She barely said anything in fact, just turned her head in silence, and watched her lover shake Hinata until she was reduced to tears, blubbering, her words failing her entirely for the first time in months.

“I-I-I-I’m––” she was confused. She just wanted to speak to her mother, about what she couldn’t remember––it didn’t seem important anymore. Hizashi was grabbing her, his free hand holding a towel around his waist. His fury was palpable, his fear overwhelming. “I-I’m...I’m...s-so s-sorry. Mom––”

But Hizashi was already tossing her out of the bedroom. “Tell no one,” he growled and shut the door. His hand had left a mark. Hinata could hear her mother sobbing beyond the door. Then, the yelling began. 

“The affair lasted for years,” Hinata explained to Sasuke after she had unfolded the story from the dark corners of her mind. “Maybe even longer than I ever k-knew. It was...it was explosive, dangerous. Y-years ago, Neji even told me that Hizashi had tried to leave the Hyugas for my mother and find clemency elsewhere.”

Sasuke shifted beside her, his gaze simultaneously sharp and compassionate. He hadn’t even asked what this had to do with Gaara, but instead followed along, not once interrupting. “Clemency?” He repeated his tone with a hint of disbelief inside of it. “When? With Who?”

Hinata turned her head to look at him with clear eyes. She had a peculiar look on her face like she was surprised that this was even a question he could be asking. “Around the first time I s-saw them, I think, when I was seven or eight. Neji admitted this to me recently...when Hiazashi went to prison. I thought maybe...you knew but of course, you w-were quite young, too.”

“Why would I have known?” His voice changed, dipped below warmth, and made dispassionate. Hinata watched the memory move across his face, his jaw tightening over bone. 

“Hizashi sought protection from the Uchihas. He took Neji with him that day and knelt in front of your father. Neji...Neji told me that Hizashi thought because of the Tiger, the Uchiha would be more willing to accept them. But obviously, the Uchiha rejected them. I supposed there would h-have been punishment or the Uchiha’s would’ve done something, but no one knows about it except N-Neji and I...and I thought...you might’ve too. After all, after they left...”

Sasuke seemed to sink into the dirt before her mother’s shrine, “The Uchiha massacre.”

-:-

Sasuke’s entire world tilted dangerously to the left, but he stayed rooted to the ground like a true agent would, his focus a hazy and definite thing, fixed on the flickering candle in front of Aoki’s alter. 

So it wasn’t the Hyugas. It wasn’t the Hyugas who had killed his family--it would have been challenging, impossible even for Hyuga Hizashi to ask for clemency the same night he enacted violence onto the very same clan he sought protection from. 

Itachi might have been right, after all.

His brain went blurry with the new information. He felt a sudden pain in his chest. What a childish thing to think, that was! He had held on to this childhood notion, this immature estimation, so long that he had convinced himself of its reality. What even was reality anymore? If what Hinata said was true, it meant that this whole mission...this entire placement was in vain, and he was after the wrong people. 

His hand clawed the raw dirt. He watched another hand cover it, patting gently, and pulled it out. Hinata held it meagerly, her face shaded with concern, “A-are you alright? You went away for a moment.”

Sasuke let her take his hand, its warmth spreading up his arm before he took it back and shook his head. He could not process this right now. He needed to stay on task. His voice rang out cold and detached when he said, “Why are you telling me this? I asked about Gaara.”

Red rushed to her cheeks. Hinata jumped away, her hands spirling to her sides like she were a startled bird. When hurt and confusion crossed her features, Sasuke could not even feel guilty, too engulfed by his own memories, unfurling like a film behind his eyes. 

Yes, Hizashi had been alone, except for his child. And yes, hours had passed between Hizashi’s departure and the gunshots, not minutes. Almost 14 entire hours. And no, Sasuke had not seen one Hyuga eye or one face of a gunman, only masked figures whose agility was that of a trained viper, not the bulky smooth confidence of a clan member such as the Hyugas. 

“Fuck,” Sasuke muttered quietly to himself, unheard by Hinata who was slowly, hesitantly continuing her story about Gaara. Sasuke heard it through strained ears, his memories, his beliefs, and reality convulsing into one loud sound that banged against his frontal lobe.

Hinata watched him silently, her words halting suddenly. Slowly, as if approaching a wounded animal, she draped a hand on his shoulder. “S-Sasuke...you look...ill.”

“I’m fine,” Sasuke barked, bruskly. He wanted to tell her just to go inside, but he felt frozen in place, the cold of the night seeping into his bones. “You can keep telling your story.”

“No,” Hinata shook her head. She put a hand on his forehead, which he hadn’t realized was warm and slick with sweat. “I’m seriously worried about you. I can tell it later. Let me...let me get you to bed?”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine,” Sasuke felt Hinata grab both of his hands in hers, her warmth overwhelming him. They were eye level, and for once, Hinata did not look away. For the first time in his life, Uchiha Sasuke felt like a deer in headlights. He felt undone, exhausted, and terribly confused. 

“Please,” Hinata whispered, the candles of Aoki’s altar casting her in an angelic golden glow. Her eyes were sincere and worried. Her fingers rubbed his knuckles. “Sasuke, let me help you. It’s okay to need help, sometimes.”

He watched her stand. She grabbed his hands and pulled him up. They walked together into the Estate. Sasuke walked in a daze and thought about how he was grateful, somehow. Grateful he wouldn’t have to kill her.

Chapter Text

Sasuke had a fever for days. 

The sickness had come down on him so quickly that he barely had any hope of avoiding it. Worse, he had come down with it at the Hyuga Estate, and Hinata would not let him leave for his apartment. For three days, his temperature slowly rose to 102 degrees, and he felt delirious, exhausted, and weak. 

He had nightmares and heard voices. When he closed his eyes, he saw Hizashi Hyuga walking towards the Uchiha Compound, looking grim. When he was awake, he heard gunshots firing in the distance, rendering him immobile, his body a useless weight of sick. He feared for his survival when his fever was at its worst. He feared it, even more, when he dreamt about ANBU; the thought of returning to headquarters sent a fire through his entire body. His fever piqued 105 that day: delirium in completion. 

Luckily it went down an hour later, or else he’d be transferred to a hospital for an overnight stay. Hinata stayed at his bedside. He was given a small guest room, courtesy of Hiashi, and meals came to him by way of servants. They served all types of broths and vitamins, all curated by Hinata’s keen instruction. 

Throughout the day she had numerous meetings and appointments which caused her to leave his side, and in those breaks of the day, he found himself wanting her companionship; it was truly boring to sit and waste in your own sweat and trauma.

 In his feverish state, he began to see her as a sunlit figure, whose face filled the corners of his mind that were untouched by confusion. She had soft hands and an easy, encouraging smile when she set a towel on his forehead. She was forgiving and gentle and even allowed his anger space in a room that already seemed so dark and enclosed. When he shouted in a nightmare, out of character and startled, she shushed him, wiping the sweat from his forehead. When he was rude and arrogant, especially in the face of her kind care, she ignored him and gave him medicine. When his fever caused him to swat her away, she took his hands and folded them over his lap.

When he cried in his sleep she wiped his face and said nothing. One day she told him that it was good to sweat out the memories. She told him she didn’t think he was sick with a virus, but with whatever he was battling inside of him, and she told him that he needed to do this so that he could come back. When his fever piqued, she sat beside him and brushed his hair out of his face, each finger like a prayer against his temples, each touch cool balm to his flesh. She sang a song she said her mother used to sing when she woke with her own nightmares.

It had been years since he had been cared for so completely, and without wanting something in return. That night Hinata fell asleep beside him, her hand cradling his forehead. When he awoke from the first dream that wasn’t a nightmare, he realized that he was falling in love. 

-:-

Hinata stretched beside him, her shirt riding up her belly and exposing the head of her dragon. Sasuke was sitting up already, drinking a glass of water in full gulps. He felt like he had not drunk anything in years. When he finished his glass, he grabbed Hinata’s Hydroflask from the windowsill and drank that too. 

The guest room was stylishly decorated, with midcentury modern furniture, muted cream walls, and giant framed black-and-white photographs that Sasuke had not noticed in his fever. Surprisingly, they were family photos, and they seemed too endearing for a cold picture of the Hyugas Sasuke had in mind. Imagines of Hinata and Neji playing as children greeted him as his reality slowly started crawling back to him. In one photo, a child-Hinata had her mouth in an ‘o’ as she pointed at a sunflower that towered over her head.

Sasuke looked down at her. Hinata’s hair curled around her body when she slept, and her hands reached out as if she were trying to grab onto something. As if feeling his eyes on her, she woke up slowly, blinking blearily into the sunlight.  

“Hey,” she said, surprise coloring her voice when she realized Sasuke was sitting up, looking down at her with a clarity in his gaze that she hadn’t seen in days. “You’re––you’re up!”

“I am up,” Sasuke said, amusement seeping out of him as he watched the woman jump out of bed and to his bedside, her hands inoffensively coming to cradle his head, under his bangs, like they belonged there. 

“How are you feeling?” She began to touch other places: the back of his neck, his cheeks, his chest. 

Sasuke caught her arms in his grip, smiling a rueful smile. “I’m fine, Hyuga Princess. Seriously. I feel better.”

Hinata colored, embarrassed, and tried to move from his grip, but Sasuke wouldn’t let her. He pulled her back into the bed, her body falling over his torso, her arms falling over his shoulders to anchor herself.

“I know you nursed me back to health,” he said. They were nose-to-nose, and he enjoyed the way she squirmed. Her eyes looked bright against the sunlight, and her concern for him was evident in the way she moved. 

“It––it w-was nothing,” She stuttered, unmoving. He could feel her chest moving up and down with exertion. 

“Relax Hinata,” Sasuke said. He held her waist. Hinata slowly relaxed her arms around his shoulders, wrapping them around his body with a question in her gaze. Sasuke returned her look with a confident lift of his lips, he tilted his head back to look at her better. “Relax. I feel great. You can relax, now.”

“I’m j-just worried.”

“I know you are,” he said genuinely. Then he kissed her.

-:-

Hinata came up for air with a gasp. Though Sasuke’s fever had indeed cleared, his temperature dropping to a normal 98 degrees, they had exchanged feverish kisses, the heat billowing out from between their touching chests and their reaching hands. 

She took stock of their positions: her lying beside him, her arm drawn over his shoulders, cupping his head. Him above her, his eyes an onyx map of yearning. He let her fall back onto the bed, her head hitting a pillow. 

“W-what are we doing?” She asked, heat racing to her face. Her heart was a drumline inside of her chest. Sasuke’s heat stretched the length of her body. He was panting, too.

“I thought we were kissing,” he said slowly as if he were speaking a foreign language. 

Hinata frowned. “I-I mean..yeah...”

Sasuke looked at her expectedly, as if she were the one behaving erratically after having just been proclaimed fever-free. She said as much, too! “A-are you sure you’re not still ill?”

Sasuke stared at her some more, warm amusement filtering his gaze before it was filtered away and replaced with an intensity that was usually reserved for throwing a punch,  “Do you honestly think that one has to be ill to kiss you?”

Hinata’s face felt hot, “I-I mean, no! I just...I wasn’t expecting it.”

Sasuke seemed to consider this, sitting up and fixing his gaze on her form. For all that had passed between them already, she managed not to feel self-conscious about a shared night in bed with him, and a kiss planted between thermometers and healthy green juices she had procured. She felt comfortable, even in her sleeping shorts and an oversized T-shirt, her hair tied back from her face, the heavy sleep circles around her eyes.

“Why not?” He said after a beat. He stretched, his arms towering above them, his exposed skin golden against the light. He leaned to one side with his hands clasped and looked over his opposite shoulder at her, stretching. “I’m seriously asking. Why not?”

Hinata said nothing because all she had was her insecurities wrapped around her stomach in knots. There were several reasons why not , and she would not sit there and list them all! 

Sasuke rolled his eyes when she didn’t answer and finished his stretches with an unbelieving look at her sitting form. “You mean to tell me you haven’t noticed my attraction to you this whole time? You haven’t noticed how I can’t seem to fucking look away from you? How every time we’re in a room together we end up next to each other? How I––”

He broke off and the silence was thick. Hinata swallowed, asking “How you what?”

“I like you, Hinata.” He finally said, turning his dark gaze on her. Their eyes met and Hinata could see herself in his pupils, flushed with her lips parted. Shivers ran over her body. “I like you a lot. And it’s dangerous to like you, but it seems I haven’t been able to let it go.”

There was a beat of silence.

“I...like you, too,” Hinata admitted, her lashes fluttering. She felt like her heart was living in her throat and it was trying to climb out and spill everything she’s ever felt. Her voice came out shaking––she didn’t think she would admit such a thing ever, but when she looked at him she couldn’t even begin to regret it.

Sasuke was smiling at her ruefully, the left side of his mouth upturned in a brief sort of happiness. He pulled her up close to her body and Hinata felt a thrill go through her at this new and urgent feeling. His hands were large and heavy at her waist, “What should we do about it then, Hyuga Hinata?”

“I suppose...” she felt her body mold into his warm side as if she were meant to be there, feeling as if she were in a dream. “We can keep doing what we’re doing.”

They rolled into bed together, the rest of the world briefly forgotten. No one came to check on them, no one knocked on the guest room for several hours, and they were grateful, falling into a fitful sleep while wrapped around each other. Hinata felt safe in Sasuke’s grip as her eyes fought sleep, nestling her head under his chin. 

She hadn’t expected this to happen. She knew that she had had budding feelings for him, but she had buried them deep inside of herself, convincing herself that it would never work out between them for whatever reason. Convincing herself that she was not in his league. Convincing herself that she wasn’t good enough. 

She watched his eyes gently close, quick to fall asleep while his body still recovered. You are beautiful , Hinata thought, tracing the hard edge of his jaw with her gaze, and following it up to his ear, his forehead, and down his straight nose. She did not know how she had gotten so lucky. She realized, with a spark of fear in her chest, that he trusted her deeply.

And she trusted him.

-:-

Two hours later, Hinata slipped from his arms and got dressed in her bedroom. He didn’t stir––still regaining his energy from the four nights of fever. 

Hanabi caught her before Hinata slipped into her own room, both eyebrows raised in such a teenage way that Hinata turned red and gave herself away. She slammed the door shut before Hanabi could utter a word, but imagined the text Ino would receive very soon from Hinata’s younger sister.

She changed from her sleep clothes into some belly-high sweats and a cropped T-shirt, and waddled down the stairs to her father’s office, where he was expecting her. He sat at his desk looking tired and unenthusiastic, focused on a game of soccer playing on the screen of his iPhone. Hinata was grateful that it was a casual day for everyone. 

He looked up when he saw her and her casual wear and said, “hm.”

Hinata said, “Hello father.”

He said, “I see you've been nursing that boy all week.”

Hinata said, “I have.”

He said, “What is he so feverish about?” His eyes were keen. Fevers had many meanings to the Hyugas. Often, it meant there was a great chasm within someone, and they had to choose which direction to go. Only once the matter was settled, would their fever clear.

It was a myth, but Hinata believed in it. That didn’t mean she wanted her father to know that––she didn’t want to give him a reason to be more suspicious of the Uchiha than he already was. She played coy: “I imagine s-some sort of virus. It’s b-been cold, father.”

Hiashi said nothing to this point, just shook his head quietly as he turned off the soccer game and closed his phone in distaste. “Your mother liked to care for the sick, too.” He said it as if he were saying something else entirely––like he often was. “Just don’t get too involved.”

Hinata was grateful that her face didn’t turn too red, “He’s...he’s b-better now, so he won’t need my help, anyway.”

“Good to hear. I don’t need your attention focused on that Uchiha,” Hiashi said, speaking like a father and a crime organizer at once. “It’s not ideal. Especially with Suna in the mix. Tell me about that.”

Hinata told him, keeping to herself the rudeness and the touchiness of Gaara. She spoke about the weapons she had organized for the Hyugas, and the man she had met from Korea. She explained that after the man had seen them together, he immediately allied himself, saying he was better with them and their combined power than against them.

Hiashi sighed like it annoyed him to hear things had gone well, muttering about Gaara being right, after all. They discussed the Boys Club meeting that would happen the next month, and Hiashi warned that Gaara might ask for another outing, just to solidify their position. Hiashi would have to say yes if that was the case.

Hinata nodded like a good daughter would, and thought of the bed upstairs she would return to once this was all said and done. It didn’t matter that she had to fake date Gaara for the sake of an alliance. It didn’t matter that her father seemed to disapprove of her closeness with Sasuke. It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter.

Hinata bowed to her father and practically ran back up the stairs once she was out of sight and sound of the east wing. 

-:-

The rest of the day unrolled around them like a summer film. 

Hinata felt the bliss well up in her stomach every time their lips brushed, feeling at once peaceful and terrified––but she could not stop once they had started. The conversation from the days before the fever was unresolved, but Hinata did not think they needed to continue, not when Sasuke’s mouth enveloped her with such rushed sweetness. They were plump and fulfilling kisses, deep like nothing she had ever known before, like reaching into a well and coming up with an enchanted gift.

After hours of this, they found dinner, sneaking out of the guest room like children who wanted to avoid being caught. Hinata was grateful that they had not run into Hanabi––or worse, Neji, on their way for food. 

They carried it back to the guest room like bandits, their fingers tearing into the meal, and then each other, with absolute certainty. Sasuke liked to smirk and tease her, his eyes bright with mirth she had never seen before. At some point, they vacated the guest bedroom to her bedroom, where Hinata rolled a joint and lead him by the hand to her balcony. 

She pointed to little things around the Estate that Sasuke had not noticed. By the entrance was a tiny blue house with a hole in the top, saying “That was my mother’s first birdhouse, she liked to build them.”

Sasuke squinted, the smoke billowing between them. They were ignoring the chill of outside “What about the one on the ground beside it? That yellow thing?” There was a smaller house, very crooked and badly painted on the ground.

Hinata blushed, “T-that one was mine. Not my best work.”

“Certainly not, stick to tattooing.”

Hinata elbowed him, saying “Hey! I was a kid. Surely you had childhood arts and crafts?”

“They looked better than that,” Sasuke chuckled. “But I wasn’t really into that. I liked running around and climbing things. And I had this strange obsession with knives.”

“I d-don’t really think that’s strange,” Hinata chided.

Sasuke rose a sleek eyebrow. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Whatever you want it to mean.”

They continued like this for an hour, well after the joint was extinguished, and well after they retreated back into Hinata’s room with the duvets drawn over their shoulders. They let themselves feel young, though they were already young, they let themselves feel unburdened by the world that dominated their actions. They saved the worry and stress for the next day. It didn’t matter right now. Right now did not count. 

Sasuke said this as he watched Hinata roll her sweatpants down her thighs, exposing her long legs and part of her stomach. He guided one leg over his body so that she was straddling him. He placed the large palm of his hand against the plain of her stomach, watching the dragon disappear from view. Then, he uncovered it, following the line of its tail as it dipped around her backside to wrap around the woman’s neck. 

Hinata exhaled, feeling his hand move with the breath. He moved his hands to each of her hips, watching as she adjusted herself on top of him. Shyly, she tugged her t-shirt over her head, and her purple bralette bounced down, her nipples poking through to give away her arousal.

Sasuke responded immediately, hardening under her sitting position so that Hinata’s eyes widened as she felt it. She made a small sound of surprise as Sasuke’s hand traveled up and felt along the underside of her bra, feeling the softness there as his fingers squeezed her warm flesh. He looked her in the face as he took his fingers from under the bra and moved on top of it, squeezing her breasts with bated breath. They both radiated heat. 

She moved forward, pushing her crotch against his pants without really noticing she was doing it, and began rocking back and forth. She smiled ruefully when this elicited a response, and she said, surprising them both: “R-remember when you said f-fucking wouldn't mean anything?”

Sasuke groaned, not expecting this topic or the sudden ironic tone Hinata had taken as she rubbed herself all over him. “I didn’t say it like that,” he protested, trying not to make any more sounds. “And you know what I meant.”

She shrugged, her face flamed red from the boldness of the statement, like she hadn’t expected to say, but it slipped out anyway. Sasuke pushed up, rubbing his hard-on against her, and she practically fell over. Sasuke pulled her down, taking the opportunity to envelop her mouth into a hard kiss, his hands unclasping the back of her bralette and slipping it off from between him. He buckled his hips again when he felt her hard nipples press into his chest, their warmth and size sending vigor through him. Sasuke slid off his pants with her still on top of him, leaving only his boxers, which Hinata was quick to feel him through. Their eyes met like she was asking him if it was okay.

Sasuke nodded and groaned when she began to stroke him, though he was already hard, he felt himself grow larger, and Hinata stifled a gasp when he buckled in her palm through his underwear. They kissed again, and when Hinata rose a line of saliva connected them, she threw her head back and it dripped down her chest.

The Uchiha was happy to assist: sitting up and licking the skin between her cleavage and taking a nipple into his mouth and sucking. Hinata trembled as he wrapped a hand secure around her waist, her one hand still stroking him, though in distracted and hesitant movements. They paused for a second to readjust. Sasuke asked if she wanted to be on her back.

Surprising him, Hinata said no. She said she wanted to see him, to look down at his face and see everything. She was pink when she said it, but she rolled into a squat, and Sasuke pulled his boxers off, and Hinata put a hand on either of his shoulders, kissed his neck, and sunk onto him. Sasuke felt like she was holding him close inside of her body, feeling each passing heartbeat, each twitch of her muscle. 

“ Shit ,” she said, resting her head on his chest and taking a moment to process. This wasn’t like how they did it the first time. The first time they were drunk, frenzied, and both having bad days. They fucked like strangers, slipping in and out of positions like they were following a guidebook. This was different: this was intentional. 

Sasuke put his hands on her waist and slowly drew her body down further, watching her take more of him until their pelvises met. Hinata convulsed, moaning loudly, as he gripped her waist and pulled her back up. Fuck fuck fuck––

Their foreheads touched. His eyes asked if she was okay. She nodded, frantically, and without preamble, he dropped her back onto his dick, eliciting a long strangled sound that filled Sasuke with pleasure. He groaned into her neck, now trusting upward without preamble, his fingers coming under her thighs to hold her up. She wrapped her arms around his neck as she shook, moaning into his ears, her body pulling him deeper inside with each movement. It was like they were becoming attached to one another. She felt warm and inviting, her muscles clenching him tightly as her arms held him. 

Sasuke stopped thrusting when she asked him to, and he put his hands around her waist. She slowed down and began moving in circles, pushing him onto the bed with a hand anchored to either side of his head, she did swirls around his body with him inside of her, rolling her hips and waists as if she were dancing. Her breasts danced prettily above him, and Sasuke grabbed one in his mouth. It was like every single part of their bodies had to be touching. 

After Hinata began to get tired, they switched positions so that Sasuke was on top, and she was back on her back, looking up at him with stars in her eyes. Sasuke maneuvered her legs, anchoring them around his body as he began to push into her with deep strokes, watching as his length disappeared inside of her slick folds. She cried as he rocked into her gently. He was kissing her face, her neck, her mouth, using one arm to hold him up, his fingers tangling easily in her hair, and the other sliding down to flick her clit.

“ Sasuke ” she cried, buckling forward as he pushed into more to meet her. He could feel her tightening even more around him, and swore. He, too, was running to finish. “Just like that, please,” she moaned in his ear, which didn’t help––or did––depending on how you wanted to look at it. 

He kissed her to shut her up, and she moaned into his mouth. She clenched even more, and Sasuke felt himself begin to tremble all over, waves of pleasure rolling over his skin like a tsunami had taken his body. He groaned, gnashing his teeth, as he continued pushing until the very last second. He said something to her about how beautiful she was and she raked her fingers against his back, probably causing a little blood. 

Her body began to thrash, her moans rising, as she kissed his face between the courses. He could feel her whither underneath him, and felt a hot sensation caress his member as he took one final thrust, in which he pressed his entire body against hers, and felt her torso shudder-scream against his, and he pulled out. Cumming onto the hardwood floor without preamble. Usually, he was more prepared.

“Oh my god,” Hinata said when he laid beside her, completely exhausted, dazed, and definitely and unfortunately in love. “Oh my God.”

He smiled ruefully at her, opening his arms as she rolled into them, her body still warm, and her breathing still erratic. She was practically buzzing against him. He kissed her forehead and thanked her. 

She kissed his lips. They smiled at each other and quickly fell asleep. 

Dreams only lasted for a few hours, after all. 

Chapter Text

The dream dissolved into a nightmare by morning, when Sasuke thrashed in his sleep.

He saw masks sneak into the Uchiha compound from the darkness outside, their movements calculated and sharp. The masks were large and exaggerated, painted with brash red paint that was still wet––dripping like blood. They wore all black cloth of a spy, and their movements were sure as they broke through the glass door of the entrance. Glass shattered, and then there was no sound until one of them pulled a machine gun from the darkness of their body and released a string of bullets into the room. 

They crawled through the compound like spiders, their arms and legs extending, the white of their masks growing until they covered their entire bodies, dripping blood of the Uchihas that had fallen. Sasuke lay flat on his soccer field, his heart a hummingbird inside of him, as a mask  grew and grew until it detached from one of the assailants and attached itself to his face. 

He could not get it off. 

When he woke, Hinata was holding one of his hands away from his face in a tight grip he had never felt from her before. She was staring at him, her silvery eyes wide in the dim of her bedroom. Behind them, the morning stood still and gray, and Sasuke could feel the cold sneaking in. 

“Sorry,” he apologized without knowing why, blinking as more things came into focus. He realized his chest was heaving. Hinata’s worried face hovered in front of him, and he processed the feeling of her warm body and the cold sheets that surrounded him there. He looked around the bedroom: its corners were dark in the dreary morning. The silence of everything surrounded him as he remembered the masks and how they had forced themselves around his body.

Hinata said nothing, just released his hand. She leaned over and grabbed a cup of water, which she wordlessly insisted he drink from. “You started scratching your face,” she said quietly, concern evident in her tone.

“I had a nightmare,” he admitted, though he knew that much was obvious already. He wasn’t prepared for the fear that he still felt sitting around his shoulders, making speaking difficult. He hadn’t felt this way in years. Sasuke felt the need to apologize again, but didn’t. He tucked his shame inside of himself. This was the second time Hinata had woken him from one of his dreams.

They were getting worse. He felt that something bad was going to happen. 

The day they had spent in bliss fell away slowly, even as he wrapped an arm around Hinata’s bare torso, and pulled her against his body. She reached an arm out and played with his hair, their eyes meeting when she asked, “What was it about?”

Sasuke hid his frown. He could not tell her, though part of him wanted to. It was too convoluted for her to know. Hinata must’ve sensed this, and her hand paused at his forehead, “You don’t...you don’t have to t-tell me, you know?”

He looked down at her. Her hair was like a blanket around her shoulders, spilling in long streaks so black that it looked indigo in the dim light of the outside. Her face was pink but tinged in concern, and her lips downturned just slightly. Her eyes held a trust that Sasuke could not have imagined he’d be on the receiving end of. She was so beautiful.

And he felt undeserving. For a bright, startling moment, he wanted to tell her everything . He wanted to tell her that he was a spy, sent to steal the Byakugan file from the Hyugas. He wanted to tell her about his grudge against the Hyuga, and how for years he thought them responsible for the death of his people. He wanted to tell her about the fear that was growing slowly but surely inside of him. The fear that he was going to die. 

Instead, he reached an arm up to stretch, then wrapped it around her shoulders, rolling them over, so that she was on her back. It was a distraction, and it worked, at least he thought it did when she turned even pinker than before. 

But she didn’t distract easily, it seemed, not about this. “I’m worried about you.”

“Don’t be,” Sasuke said, his voice casual, stern. “It’s the same nightmare I have all the time. About the massacre.”

“I see,” she said. She turned a perplexing look at him like she didn’t fully believe what he was saying. Like she knew that there was more he was not saying. But she buried that away as she sat up and rolled her shoulders. She placed a hand on his neck and said, “Well. I k-know something that helps me when I have an episode. I promised you a tattoo, right?”

-:-

Sasuke wanted the ravens on his back, and big. 

Hinata could not deny the sensual aspect of tattooing a lover, even if she was doing so to distract him from the pain he was allowing her to witness. Still, she believed firmly in the transferring of pain to another source, and tattoos were great outlets for her. 

His back muscles rippled subtly as Hinata placed the stencil, the two ravens sitting together at his lower back, the one flying away at his mid back. He’d wanted more details, trees and clouds and dark inking––that sort of thing that made it become a multi-session tattoo. Neither of them minded this. 

Hinata pinned back her hair and put on her gloves, delighting in the way giving a tattoo made intimacy apparent. He laid on his stomach while Hinata prepared the needle, his dark gaze following her as she wandered around the studio. She even played music this time, soft and gentle indie tunes that surrounded them with melodic guitar. She couldn’t stop his pain, but at least she could momentarily transfer it. 

She started at the lowest raven, the one to the right that was sitting on the branch, and pressed the machine into his skin. She rode the line up, feeling his tensing skin as his back took the ink. She remembered when she did his first tattoo, and how nice it felt to tattoo him.  

“I think just the outline for today,” she said, tipping the needle into the ink as she accessed the canvas of his back. “Maybe two sessions? Three if you tap out.”

Sasuke snorted. “I wouldn’t tap out.”

Hinata laughed, “Never.” she said. 

It took her about 35 minutes to ink in the first raven, gently putting in strokes of the feature, dotting white into its eye, and following the line to its talons. They spent this time in relative silence, her leaning over his body and feeling it react to her movements, and him breathing deeply through the pain. At one point, he even admitted, “The back is a bitch” 

“Right on your spine,” Hinata agreed. “When my friend did my tattoo I basically cried the whole time.”

“I could see that,” Sasuke teased. 

Hinata rolled her eyes, though he couldn’t see her face. “This isn’t as intense as your whole torso, I don’t think.”

“Touche,” Sasuke agreed, then grunted a little from the pain. Hinata moved on to the second raven, its companion on the branch. “Were you transferring pain when you got it?”

“Oh, of c-course,” Hinata muttered. “I invited this friend over to do it specifically. My mother’s drawing, remember? It’s actually pretty recent. I’ve had it maybe three or four years.”

“What happened?”

His question was met with a brief silence. Hinata let the machine run, the noise filling the room. She used a coil machine for big projects like this, and its vibrating was loud. You had to speak loud to be heard over it. Hinata dipped the machine into the ink and watched the machine suck it up, then she dutifully stretched the skin with her left hand, and pushed the needle into the stencil of the beak, drawing an artful line to meet the bird’s skull. 

“It was after my relationship with Gaara,” she admitted, slowly. “It was a really dark time in my life. I missed my mom a lot, then I found her sketchbook. I thought it was p-perfect.”

Sasuke said nothing for a long time, but Hinata felt the energy of the room shift. He asked to take a break from the tattoo to stretch, and Hinata put the machine down, watching him rotate his arms this way and that, stretching his arms above him, his muscles moving in tandem. When he looked at her, his gaze was severe: “You never finished telling me about him.”

Hinata took off her gloves. The silence in the room suddenly seemed important. She remembered the night almost six days ago, when they stood in front of her mother’s shrine, and Sasuke suddenly turned pale after she told him the story about Hizashi and his request for clemency. 

Something about that had triggered something, and she didn’t know what. Hesitantly, Hinata recapped the story and continued where she left off. With Hizashi and his treason. 

“T-there’s not much more, really. Everything was...circumstantial.” She said slowly, choosing her words carefully. Sasuke turned to look at her, his eyebrows raised in a way that asked really?

“After Hizashi was denied p-protection from the Uchihas,” she continued again, her words stumbling from her lips in a halting rhythm. She didn’t particularly enjoy remembering this. The pivot to this telling was unexpected, and it sent shivers up her spine. “He began to drink heavily. I think that the affair with my mother continued for a few years until...”

“Until she passed away,” Sasuke finished for her, his tone gentle, but he seemed impatient somehow. Sasuke watched the lines of his new tattoo shine in the light. His skin was red where the needle had gone in. “That much I understand...but what does that have to do with Suna?”

“Well,” Hinata pursed her lips. “Hizashi....began to become unhinged after t-that. He started reacting violently to things, and d-drank into the night. W-while all that came to a head, I started dating Gaara.”

Sasuke was quiet, waiting for her to go on. 

“We d-dated for a while, a couple of years, maybe. The first year and a half were wonderful...” she trailed off, wincing, then she looked away when she noticed Sasuke’s stare hardening, his hands fisting on top of the massage table. “The second part...well. He became a-angry with me. Some p-part of him thought that...hurting me would bring back his uncle. His uncle that my uncle killed.”

She played with the deflated glove that she rested on her tattoo tray idly, “Hizashi was easily provoked at this stage in life, a-and he murdered Suna Baki had a drive bar––it w-was an accident, I think. The f-fight was never meant to go so far, but a h-hurting man sometimes does not know his strength. I think G-Gaara was like that, too.”

“Don’t make excuses for him,” Sasuke’s voice was pitched a deep tember, his anger a great sitting thing in the middle of the room. Hinata smiled sadly and looked away.

“Hizashi went away for it, then died in prison after Hidan killed him. Gaara t-took his anger out on me, then we b-broke up. That’s the end of the story.” She looked at him plainly, and it was a look that said I don’t know what you’re getting out of this.

But Sasuke’s eyes looked focused, and he was staring at a wall, a frown pulling his features down. Wordlessly, he got back onto his stomach and Hinata put back on her gloves. She continued the tattoo, letting the sound of the machine fill the room again.

Sasuke turned his head to the side to look at her, his dark gaze eclipsing hers. She had to pause tattooing, for fear that she would fall into the look and be swept away. “Thank you for telling me,” he said, then paused for a long moment. He closed his eyes, then opened them before he said, “I don’t think you should go to that Boys Club meeting you told me about. I don’t have a good feeling about it.”

Hinata blew air out of her mouth. “I don’t either.”

But if she had to do it to help her family, she would. 

-:-

A few days later the Estate was buzzing. Shenji had woken up. 

Hinata was eating lunch with Kiba when she heard the news, sitting in the family room with some reality TV show he and Hanabi liked playing. Hanabi left to grab something from her room, when Shikamaru came in, looking solemn. He told them the news. Hinata was to go see Shenji first and see about his discharge. It had been almost three full weeks since the attack, and already so much had changed. 

Kiba had been released from jail after the first three days, posting bail easily with help from the Syndicate. He’d spent the better part of the last week talking to his lawyer. His trial was coming up soon, and Hiashi didn’t want anyone else going away. Especially not anywhere an Akatsuki member was placed.

Kiba didn’t seem concerned. He chewed on his chicken wings, his eyebrows drawn as if deep in thought about something. He looked at Hinata as she went to stand, asking: “Are you with the Uchiha or somethin’?”

She turned pink, no chance to hide. “Um...um, w-why do you ask?”

“That wasn’t an answer,” he looked at her plainly, wiping the side of his mouth with his thumb. “I’m not judging, I’m just asking. I just want you to be careful, okay?”

“Sure, yeah, okay...” Hinata said, frowning. She was always careful. She was more careful than Kiba ever was. She continued to gather her things, noticing a message half composed to said Uchiha: Hey-–Shenji’s awake !, a follow-up to Sasuke’s question about if she was free that evening, left still unanswered. Hinata pressed send, then turned back to Kiba, a question in her gaze. “Why do you...why do you distrust them s-so much if you’re the o-one who brought them here?”

“This sounds like a trick question,” Kiba said, sucking the buffalo sauce from his thumb. He made a bunch of wet sounds.

“I h-have no reason to trick you,” she said. “I really want to know.”

Kiba paused all of his gluttonous actions––for the better part of the week he gwaffled everything down like he had never eaten before, citing a 72-hour stay in jail as reason enough to eat all he wanted––and paled considerably. “I just don’t trust them, okay? I um...”

Hinata wordlessly raised an eyebrow as Kiba sputtered. Her phone vibrated in her hands, Sasuke: That’s great news. Is your father letting anyone see him?

Just me right now, She replied back, frowning. But we can go together soon, I think. 

Kiba watched her do this and shook his head again. “I lost a bet.”

“What?” Hinata’s head snapped up like she had been dragged from a trance. She pocketed the phone. 

“I lost a bet,” Kiba was whispering now. He scratched his triangle tattoos self-consciously. “to some really shady guys. I’m not sure what they were into but––I owed them a lot of money.”

“Kiba––you know you c-could have g-gone to Father if––”

“I couldn’t have, Hinata. You don’t know the fucking situation,” his tone was low, but still Hinata jumped in surprise. Her phone vibrated in her pocket and she ignored it. “It was a lot of money, alright? It was getting bad for me.”

Hinata struggled to understand. “S-so what then? Instead of paying the money you owed, you c-chose to vouch for Sasuke instead?”

Kiba said nothing, and his silence was enough. Hinata felt like her forehead was splitting open, “So...y-you’re telling me that someone put you up to vouching for an Uchiha , and now...n-now you’re telling me to be careful ?”

Kiba said, “I just want you to be safe, that’s all.”

“Does my father know about this?”

“Of course not, Hinata,” now Kiba was wearing puppy-dog eyes, which usually worked on Hinata, but instead his pitiful gaze was met with ire. “He’d...he’d fucking kill me.”

“Or w-worse,” flame slipped off her tongue. She felt fury and confusion become twins inside of her. “Goddammit Kiba,” she muttered without restraint or any awareness of herself. She felt like she wanted to hit something, but that want overwhelmed her so much that she felt tears dot the corners of her eyes instead. She had no idea what any of this was supposed to mean. She had no idea what she was meant to do with this information. 

She walked away shaking her head, her headache a full-fledged movement across her temporal lobe, her eyes blurring as she let the door shut behind her. Her phone vibrated again. The cracks began to show.

-:-

“Hey Hinata,” Shenji’s voice had a friendly but exhausted lift to it when Hinata knocked on the door and eased it open. His voice was scratchy from the breathing tube. He was surrounded, still, by flowers, since they had replaced the dozens every week of his stay. He looked around her as if he was wondering where everyone else was, and seemed disappointed that it was just her. 

“Hey,” she said gently. In her arms she held a little brown teddy bear and two cup ramens in a basket, which she held out to him and he accepted with slow-moving arms. She watched him struggle to sit up for a moment, until she appeared on his other side to help him up. His blonde hair had lost some of its shine, but had grown since the shooting. “How are you f-feeling?”

“Terrible,” he said. “Like I got shot a buncha times in the chest. Ooooh , cup ramen,” his eyes lit up. “I don’t even know if I can eat real food yet,” unabashed, he lifted the edge of his hospital gown top to expose the feeding tube. He explained that his doctor would remove it that afternoon and he’d start with a liquid diet. He pouted.

“Maybe you can h-have the broth?” Hinata suggested kindly, feeling a bit stupid for bringing it––two cups at that.

“It’ll probably just taste like salt. The worthy broth has pork in it,” he rasped. “How’s everything, though? The Estate and all that.”

Hinata thought about the strange circumstances that brought Shenji and Sasuke into her life. Kiba seemed convinced they were evil, and Hinata could see why. With his life on the line, of course he would vouch for two men he did not know. But on whose behalf? That was the scary part.

Right now, Shenji looked harmless. Bandaged and connected to multiple long tubes, he could barely move. His limbs seemed heavy as he tried to grab the teddy bear and sit it on his lap. A slow smile crossed his face as Hinata settled into the chair beside him. He said something about being happy to be alive. 

Hinata told him about the coming and goings of the Estate and the Syndicate at large, leaving out some complexities that would very well go over his head since he’d been out of the loop for so long. A doctor came in halfway through and introduced herself. She explained Shenji’s treatment options and told Hinata that they would keep him for a few more nights just to run some tests. If all looked good, Shenji could be out in three days with a structured schedule for physical therapy. They would take the feeding tube out after visiting hours ended. 

“And how’s my boy?” Shenji drawled. 

“Who?”

“Sasuke! Is he doing alright?”

“Oh,” Hinata blushed lightly, and it was not unnoticed by Shenji. “He’s...he’s doing okay. He was sick recently, but he’s better now.” She thought of the ravens she had inked into his skin the night before and how they seemed to wink at her when he moved his arms. Her work looked beautiful on his body. Hinata could feel herself getting lost, so she steered the conversation back and cleared her throat. “How do you two know each other, again?”

“School?” Shenji said it like a question, but he was more confused about the abrupt question than the origins of his relationship with Sasuke. His voice was still halted––scratchy. “High school, actually, and we’ve been friends ever since. Why?”

“I-I was just wondering,” Hinata said. She looked away, lowering her eyes in a shy sort of gesture while she thought of something else to say; a way to bridge her questions. “Lately I’ve j-just been...really grateful to have so many wonderful people in my life. For years there weren’t m-many people my age around, so it feels sort of––sort of magical.”

“Oh,” Shenji nodded appreciatively. “I could see that. Why not?”

“I had a pretty secluded childhood,” Hinata said, which was the truth. “W-we Hyuga’s don’t like outsiders. T-that’s why I was kinda curious...how did y-you guys meet Kiba?”

Finally, the question she really wanted to ask was out in the open. She made her gaze open, curious, as she looked at him in his hospital bed. He looked weak, exhausted, and somewhat depressed, so she almost felt bad for putting him on the spot. But she needed to know. She needed to figure out what the hell Kiba was talking about. 

“Um,” Shenji’s face suddenly went red, and he sheepishly scratched the back of his head. “We met at an off-track-betting joint a while back. It also had a strip club in the basement.”

“Oh,” Hinata turned red, too, at the mention of this strip club, if not to pretend like this answer had some effect other than scrutiny. It matched up with what Kiba had said, though Kiba had not said that Shenji and Sasuke were the “really shady guys ” he’d met. It was clear that Hinata was getting nowhere with this line of questioning, unable to verify or reject any claims. She didn’t have good enough questions. 

It was also clear to her that the frantic beating in her chest was a symptom of something else entirely. She didn’t want there to be any suggestion that Uchiha Sasuke’s intentions were nefarious. She didn’t want what Kiba said to be true.

She wasn’t sure how she would deal with that reality. She had a feeling that she was dealing with it already.

-:-

The quiet of his apartment was chilling.

Sasuke checked his various security functions, ensuring that no one had entered his room during his extended, and unexpected time away.

Everything looked normal: copacetic. His desk was still clear of all worldly possessions, his bed was still dutifully made, and the yen from Itachi was still taped to the wall and left alone. Still, Sasuke checked over some security footage and fashioned a pistol around his waist. Something felt... off.

His body felt wound-tight as he undid the floorboards for his laptop. It pinged after he put in his long streams of passwords and allowed the systems to scan his retinas. There was a message encoded from Ox through their usual encrypted channel, and it told him to come to headquarters as soon as possible. Tomorrow if he could. 

The message from her sent a shock through his body like he had just been showered in ice. Ox never messaged them––and if she did, it would be through the head of this mission. It would be through Sakura.

Sasuke hadn’t heard from her since that day they drove around in his car. He responded to Ox in the same channel, before logging off. No, there was another place he could look for a message from Sakura, and if she hadn’t messaged through normal channels it meant that things had gotten ugly.

He just hoped she was okay. 

Chapter Text

The door squeaked shut when it closed behind him, and a sad-sounding bell alerted the late-night staff that someone had entered. The shop smelled the same as it did three years ago: like mothballs left in your grandparent’s basement for years and years on end. The overhead lighting hadn’t improved either––which was odd, considering it was an erotic literature store.

Sighing, the Uchiha pulled the cloth mask he was wearing further up his nose, pleased when the store attendant––a balding man chewing on tapioca pearls at the checkout counter––ignored him in favor of his phone, his thumb scrolling through an infinity’s-worth of content. Sasuke remembered the aisle like he remembered the back of his hand, looking away from the piles and piles of brightly-colored, lewd covers that winked at him in the dim orange light. 

A radiator hummed on. It was stark cold outside, the temperature dipping below freezing for the first time that season. Last night, he snuck into Hinata’s room and held her body close to his, secretly terrified that he would not get to have that moment again. She curled into his body, kissed his cheeks, and smiled at him. When her alarm rang that morning, it was hard to let her go.

He passed the entire day in various states of anxiety. He hadn’t heard from Sakura through their usual channels and he was worried. He paced the Estate with all emotion wiped from his face: he could not let anything slip, else he’d make everything worse.

Finally, Sasuke reached the section he needed. He did a quick scan of the books, his eyes glazing over the more raunchy covers that featured vulgar drawings of women with their breasts out, their hardened nipples poking through the sheer mesh, aprons, or other garments of the sort. He was grateful that Icha Icha Paradise had a less provocative cover, the one he chose featuring a woman in a red dress running away from a man in a button-down shirt. Both of their mouths were open.

Impatiently, he flipped through the book until a small piece of paper fluttered out of it. Something quieted inside of him, and he paused for a long time before he bent to retrieve it. He had been right about coming here, but that only meant that something was deeply, truly wrong. 

Dog had established this place as an off-the-record rendezvous point for their team when they had first started getting to know each other. “ANBU is an organization,” he said as the four of them slunk through the long aisles, blushing bashfully when they saw a raunchy cover of a woman bent over. “But you all? You’re a team, and that’s a real and tangible thing. If ever you need anything off record, come here. And I mean anything .”

“Why would we need to come here?” Naruto said, wrinkling his nose as Kakashi started pulling books. “When we could meet at ANBU?”

“You don’t understand what off the record means, dobe?” Sasuke remembered saying.

Kakashi just crinkled his visible eye, “Trust me. A time will come.”

The note that had fallen from Icha Icha Paradise was written hastily on a piece of torn notebook paper, quite unlike the scratchings that had been engraved into the yen Sasuke had received what felt like years ago. No, the four of them had come up with their own secret code that was fairly easy to understand, made up of geometric symbols and lines that made for some short-hand phrases. Sasuke didn’t need to think too hard to figure out what Sakura had written and left for him. 

“Hey, you goin’ to buy anything, man? I’m trying to close here!” The balding man called from the front of the door, his scrolling forgotten. “You better not be jerkin’ off back there, you sick fuck––I call police!”

Sasuke grabbed Icha Icha Paradise and walked smoothly to the front of the store, hoping but not very confidently, that Sakura had left other clues within it. He’d be a fool to leave it behind here. He ignored the clerk’s inane comment as he slid a bill across the greasy, green-speckled countertop, raising an eyebrow. He’d never been called a sick fuck before. 

“You’re the one who’s sick. You work here,” Sasuke said in a smooth tone, not letting any sort of emotion convey any sort of thing. The clerk jerked awkwardly as he handed Sasuke his change. Sasuke let it drop on the counter. “Consider that a tip.”

When he exited back into the cold darkness, winter’s chill was a hand around his throat. He repeated Sakura’s message over and over again in his mind as he raced back to his apartment: ANBU no good. Leave now. I’m gone. ANBU no good. Leave now. I’m gone. ANBU no good. Leave now. I’m gone. ANBU no good. Leave now. I’m gone. ANBU no good. Leave now. I’m gone. ANBU no good. Leave now. I’m gone.

-:-

The next day had started strangely.

Sasuke unwound himself from her body, kissed her forehead, and slipped out of her room. He left behind a wall of darkness. Hinata remembered looking at her phone, wincing at the light of it, and falling back asleep. When she woke, she couldn’t remember the time exactly, just that it had been the early hours of the day. There was no Sasuke beside her. 

Her body felt heavy when she did finally find her way out of bed, her limbs like weights, and she had a terrible headache. As she gulped down water and checked her phone for messages from Sasuke, she wondered if she was getting a cold. No new messages. 

At breakfast, her throat felt tight. Hanabi was humming along to a commercial jingle, which made Hinata’s brain feel like it was being splintered. Ino came over shortly after Hinata finished eating and offered her drugs. She declined.

It was very cold that morning, so they sat in the sitting room, staring into the television set as they flipped through channels. Hinata thought of Sasuke in loops. She stared at her phone. Her stomach felt knotted, and she couldn’t figure out why. She felt like a teenager, not a grownup, with grownup things to do and worry about. She sent him another message. It didn’t go through. 

At a little past two o'clock, Ino and Hinata climbed into Hinata’s G Wagon to retrieve Shenji from the hospital. The ride was anything but silent as Hinata would have liked because Ino was talking about her camping trip plans. She and Shikamaru would be road-tripping to the mountains. “In the winter?” Hinata had asked, skeptically, as she turned into the sparsely populated parking lot. 

“It’s warmer where we’re going,” Ino said. 

When they got to the check-in counter, a nurse with giant red glasses blinked at them in confusion, her eyes drifting from the screen to their wanting faces. “Can you repeat the patient's name again, darling?”

“Oh yes,” Hinata mumbled. She told the nurse Shenji’s name again. The nurse smiled embarrassedly. A gust of heavy wind hit the windows. All day had been gray. 

Under her feet, the linoleum was checkered tan. The nurse clicked her tongue, gazing at the Hyuga with a frown. “I’m sorry miss...it looks like your friend checked himself out last night.”

“L-last night?” Hinata stammered, confused. “E-excuse me ma’am, but how is that possible? I was told he wouldn’t be ready until today.”

The nurse was wearing lipstick the color of dried blood, and it contrasted with her bright  glasses. She simply blinked at them, “Well, darling, things change.”

“I thought patients weren’t allowed to sign themselves out,” Ino’s tone was confrontational, a gust of wind in an otherwise quiet lobby. The nurse loudly typed on her keyboard, no longer listening. She rolled her eyes and told them that she wasn’t on duty when their friend left their facility. 

“He signed out, okay? There’s nothing else I can do.”

Hinata told Ino to come on, and they braced against the cold together, their lips pressed into thin lines. Hinata felt the dread inside of her grow. She texted Sasuke again, but again she went unanswered. Still, she typed Are you okay? Is Shenji with you? He’s missing.

What she wanted to say was that seeds of suspicion were growing inside of her, and while her intentions were pure, her father’s would not be. 

Ino asked to drive and took them through a drive-through where she popped her gum and asked Hinata if she wanted anything to eat. Hinata said “no.”

-:-

“Hinata,” Neji said, as soon as he saw Ino and Hinata walk through the front door. He grabbed Hinata’s arm and led her away from Ino without another word. 

“––Neji?” Hinata exclaimed in surprise, her other hand coming to her chest as Ino watched them  part from the doorway, her mouth slightly open as she held her styrofoam cup of soda to her chest. “You don’t have to grab me s-so hard, Neji. When did you even get back?”

 For the better part of the last two weeks, Neji had been away organizing and holding meetings with other parts of the Syndicate, going as far as the island Families to update them on the situation in Konoha. It was his first solo trip working directly as an Uncle and second-of-command to Hiashi. Tenten had gone with him. It was unusual for Hinata to have forgotten about such a huge trip for Neji, but things had not stopped happening enough for her to get her bearings. 

She was grateful, then, that Neji would not have noticed her behavior around Sasuke like Kiba had. If Kiba had noticed...it meant that they had not been very cautious at all. 

“A few hours ago,” Neji said as they both went into the study. It was a little room near the front of the Estate with bookshelf-covered walls and a small desk,  loveseat, and fireplace. Neji sat at the desk chair, and Hinata sat on the loveseat, looking at him expectantly. “But that doesn’t matter. I wanted to talk to you about the Uchiha.”

Alarm slid down her spine. Hinata sat bone-straight before relaxing, letting her posture fit into a more casual state. She let her expression settle naturally on her features, letting confusion be her guiding force throughout this conversation. If she behaved too tightly or too cold, she would give herself away. Especially around Neji. “W-what about him?”

Neji fixed his alabaster gaze on her. His hair was pulled away from his face, leaving his expression open. He’d even let a hint of worry slip through, pitching his eyebrows together as he looked at her. He gave a sharp shake of his head then cleared his throat, “I’ve just heard...”

Then he pivoted completely, switching gears as he sat back against the chair. He flicked his wrist to look at his watch. Hinata watched him, a frown beginning to stretch her lips downward. A burst of wind hit the windows, making her jump. 

“Where’s Shenji?” Neji asked then, looking up sharply. “Uncle told me you and Ino were picking him up.”

“Right...” Hinata said slowly. Her heart was thundering in her chest as more alarm bells started going off. Something was not right at all. “He...he um wasn’t there when we arrived. The nurse s-said he checked himself out early. I w-was just going to tell Father when you––”

“Dammit!” Neji sprang up suddenly, his ponytail like a viper at his back. Hinata jumped back when he rushed from the room, leaving his question in the air like a vex. He yanked the glass study door open, looking back at Hinata with his mouth pressed into a thin line. “If you hear from that Uchiha, let me know. Hinata––”

He broke off. Swallowed. He looked at her and looked away––and that look told her everything. He was aware of her tanglings with the Uchiha prodigy, but something, clearly, had become undone. 

It was evident that Hinata needed to figure out what the fuck was going on before it got out of hand. She lept from her sitting position like it caught fire, reaching out to grasp Neji’s sleeve. He was moving far too quickly, and so when he ripped his arm from hers, her body went crashing into the floor. 

The desperation of her movements startled them both. For a moment they both paused to take stock of the situation: Neji with his body angled out of the door, Hinata sitting on her butt on the floor, her arm outreached.  Neither of them moved, they simply stared at one another until Hinata, her mouth feeling full and underwater, politely asked Neji to tell her what was going on. 

“I deserve to know, Neji,” Hinata said, voice pleading. “I sit on those steps at the Affair too. I need to––” she broke off, thinking of Shenji missing from his hospital bed, and her lover not answering her texts. “I need to know what’s going on. Those were my...”

Friends.

“Don’t say it,” Neji said, his voice the sharp edge of a knife. He eased the door shut slowly and Hinata watched him take a deep breath like he was calming himself down. He was still wearing his travel clothes: a dark sweater and dark jeans, and he had bags under his eyes. He took a slow and heavy seat back in the desk chair, rubbing his forehead. “You know I wasn't supposed to be back so early?”

“Don’t c-change the subject,” Hinata challenged as she too eased her way back to the loveseat. It was lavender, with tiny embroidered stitches of flowers. Aoki used to read her stories on this couch.

“I’m not,” Neji grunted, casting his gaze far away, out the window, where snow began to fall. “I was called back to the Estate for an emergency. We got an anonymous tip, Hinata.”

Hinata stared at him incredulously, “A-about what?”

Neji sighed as if he did not want to be having this conversation, and he closed his eyes. It took a few beats for him to open them again, and when he did, he pulled out his phone. “About the Uchiha. They’re saying...they’re saying he’s a spy with an organization called ANBU––and they work with the feds, sometimes. He was assigned here to infiltrate the Syndicate and likely steal the Byakugan file––unsuccessful, I might add,” here Neji looked at her with some significance, as if he was proud that she hadn’t given that away. 

But Hinata could not live in his prideful gaze when her world had brightened so suddenly and then closed around her like a fist. Wordlessly, she took Neji’s phone and looked at the evidence: photo after photo of Sasuke with the pink-haired girl she remembered from the club, images of Sasuke wearing a crow-shaped mask as he walked out of a building downtown, and picture of him logging information about the Syndicate on a laptop while he sat in his car, alone, at his apartment. 

Hinata handed Neji his phone back quietly. Her hands did not shake. She made no expression at all. She looked at Neji and said, “Why are you t-telling me this?”

Neji took stock of her expression, nodded hard, then gave her a tight-lipped smile. “You’re a Hyuga daughter. It’s your job to know.”

-:-

A sort of buzzing filled her ears as Hinata made her way to her bedroom. She remembered a couple of days ago when she and Sasuke drove to the beach and watched the water lap at the shore, each brush with land like a caress. The sun was rising and pink light spilled across the sky. 

“My mother used to take me to this beach actually,” Sasuke said, unusually sentimental. Hinata even heard the pitch of his voice change with the effort of emotion. He pointed towards the small lighthouse and the path that went out on the water. “We’d walked up there at weird hours. Really early in the morning like this, or late at night. Super late. I think,” he laughed, “she actually had an Uchiha member with her for protection at night, but I just never knew about it. We’d watch falling stars and make all kinds of wishes.”

“What did you wish for?” Hinata remembered asking.

Sasuke looked at her, a smile forming, “All sorts of things kids want. Rocket ships and pets. I think once I asked for a boa constrictor––that didn’t go well. But my mother’s wishes are what I remember the most.”

Hinata pressed him to say more. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, nudging her closer, their warmth an entire season––summer––between their bodies as they walked on a concrete path far from the sand, but close enough for them to see the waves. 

“She usually wished things for me. Success, you know? Safety. Happiness. For me to always feel comfortable. Coming here...I realize that perhaps those wishes actually came true.”

Hinata poked his side coyly. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean,” Sasuke said, rolling his eyes. “I think those wishes led me to you.”

Hinata turned red, her face flushing pleasantly as she repeated what Sasuke was saying to her over and over in her head until Sasuke had to nudge her to get her to say something. She buried her face in his arm, smiling from ear to ear, and muttered quietly. So quiet, she could barely hear herself through her joy and her surprise: “I-I like you so much, Sasuke.”

“What?” Sasuke put a hand on each of her shoulders and forced her back. “Speak up, Hyuga.”

“I said,” Hinata cleared her throat. “I like you so much, Sasuke! ”

Then she ran off the concrete, her feet plunging into the sand as she kicked it up with the impact of her feet. It was hard and dense from the cold but that didn’t deter her. Sasuke was quick behind her, wrapping his arms around her middle in seconds and catapulting them both towards the hard sand. It hurt them both, but it didn’t matter. They laughed. 

“Fuck,” Sasuke said, sitting up. He had taken most of the fall. “Shit,” he said. He took her face in his hand, holding her there in place as if afraid she would disappear. “I think I like you too.”

Everything was happening too fast for Hinata to grasp. In her bedroom, she felt her knees hit her chest as she collapsed once the door closed, a sob breaking out until she sucked it back in like a punch to her sternum. She gave herself two minutes to feel complete despair. 

Then she straightened up and sprang into action. There were only so many things she could think about at once. Her heart was making an orchestra out of itself, and her hands shook when she grabbed her duffle bag and began to throw things inside of it. 

She wanted to feel sick with betrayal. She wanted to lay down and die and think that’s it. This is it. I will never love again. But those feelings never came. Instead, she felt a twisted sense of satisfaction: some part of her knew that Shenji and Sasuke were suspicious, and some part of her knew to watch them closely. 

But that hadn’t stopped her from falling in love with one of them like an idiot. She loved her family, she did, but she couldn’t watch them destroy one of the best things that had ever happened to her! She may have to forget about him and pretend like their relationship had never happened for the rest of her life but––she did not want Uchiha Sasuke to die. 

And there it was: her soft heart. She could not let him die. She refused it, rebuked it. She could be single for the rest of eternity, as long as Sasuke lived to tell the tale. Part of her felt guilty that she wasn’t thinking about the betrayal of her family, but how could she when it seemed obvious that everything about the situation––an Uchiha orphan joining a rival Syndicate––seemed taboo in the first place?

She was also, perhaps, hysterical. Her hair went this way and that as she loaded the bag with yen from under her mattress, a first-aid kit from her walk-in closet, extra sweaters, and warm clothes. As she packed, she formulated a plan in her head. It would require more time than they had and would include forged documents but...that didn’t matter. She couldn’t think that far into the future. 

She could only think about now and how the clock was ticking. Plans were being made without her as she shoved things into the duffle bag, and with Shenji gone...the anonymous tip had been easily proven. She didn’t stop packing until there came a knock at her door, disrupting all thoughts as Hinata stared in fear at her own bedroom door.

“It’s me,” Ino called, easing the door open. She took in Hinata’s discombobulated appearance: hair in a messy bun, tear-streaked face, shaking hands, her closet emptied upon her bed and took a deep breath. “You’re not...running, are you?”

“No,” Hinata said, alarmed. “No! It’s uh...It’s n-not for me.”

“Okay good,” Ino let out a sigh of relief so large that it seemed inappropriate given the situation. “Because I came to help and all, but I just couldn’t support that. That would be fucking stupid.”

Hinata felt her hands still on the bag, “You came to...help?”

Ino nodded like Hinata was stupid. Her hair was up in its usual ponytail and her eyes were painted with luxury, but her expression was serious. “Yes, Hina, I came to help. I don’t know much about the situation and I’d like to keep it that way, but...we’re best friends, right? Even if I can be in my own head sometimes...I can tell when you’re in love.”

The statement made Hinata want to break down and cry, but Ino kept her on task, helping her finish with the packing. Once they were done, Hinata threw her arms around Ino, sinking into her blue fuzzy tracksuit, and squeezing her hard. Ino smiled tightly back and looked at each other for a long minute until Hinata said, “Should we...should we go?”

Ino nodded, “Yes. I told Neji that you’re staying with me tonight ‘cause I wanted you to marathon The Bachelor with me,” Ino rolled her eyes at the stupid lie she’d given. “I don’t even fucking like that show, but what does Neji know? Anyway, Hinata––I’ll drop you off where you need to go but if I don’t hear from you by like 6 am the next morning I swear to fucking God––”

“ Don’t worry,” Hinata assured, “I’m not g-going anywhere. And the d-documents guy?”

“I shoulda never told you about him,” Ino muttered coarsely. Ino had hooked up with a man a few months before she and Shikamaru were official who knew how to make counterfeit copies of almost any legal document. The Hyuga had their own people for that, but Hinata needed someone who was completely unconnected. “But fine. I’ll give you his number.”

Hinata wanted to make a joke about her keeping his number despite being with Shikamaru now, but she couldn’t manage it. She felt like she was going to vomit up her heart. Ino took one look at her and rolled her eyes. It was a bit unfair considering that Ino would never be in this situation, and thus shouldn’t be allowed to feel exasperated. 

Still, Ino held her hand as they left out her bedroom door, and gently brushed the hair from Hinata’s eyes when they got in the car. When she turned on the engine, she let the silence between them be enough. And she didn’t ask questions. 

Twenty minutes later, the dark tall of Sasuke’s apartment loomed above their heads. Hinata looked up and watched the snow fall. Then she smiled at Ino and walked away. 

Chapter Text

The door opened between them and they stared at each other for a long minute. 

Sasuke was a tense jaw but was otherwise unemotional. He stood tall with his hands in his pockets, his eyes clear, his entire body obscuring the rest of his apartment from view. He was purposely making himself bigger than her: taking up space like a threat. Like nothing was happening. 

Hinata, on the other hand, was the red-cheeked opposite of her lover: her breath coming out labored, her lips puckered in stress, her eyebrows drawn and serious about her eyes. They stared at each other some more until Hinata lifted her hand and slapped him across the face, surprising them both. 

It didn’t stop the Hyuga though. She lifted her hand again––as if she were a puppet guided by some other force––but Sasuke grabbed her wrist this time, stopping the blow. His cheek was red and burning. He didn’t know that she could hit so hard. He guessed that it made sense that she could. 

There was a noise like a dying animal, and Sasuke realized that Hinata had begun to cry. Angry tears slipped down her red cheeks, their size rivaling those of Ghibli characters––golf-ball-sized tears, in now silent trendles down her face. Her shoulders were trembling and Sasuke did not know what to do. 

So he brought her into his barren apartment and closed his arms around her body, the warmth so familiar but so terrifying, that he couldn’t control the hollow feeling opening up his stomach like he was preparing for another great loss. Her arms curled around the back of his neck, holding tight. He became aware that she could kill him like this: easily and skillfully, just like he could kill her. Their craning necks, locked in embrace, became their most delicate parts. 

But then Hinata took a step back, wiping the snot from under her nose. Then she took another step back as if she was aware that killing could be involved. Then she said, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Sasuke's head swung in disdain. “Why the fuck would I tell you?” though he hadn’t meant it to sound so harsh, his confusion was palpable. He kept going, “Are you out of your mind, Hinata? Seriously? Are you fucking stupid?”

She looked like she could slap him again, but was choosing not to. “Are you f-fucking stupid? I’m not the one who’s a ...who’s a...”

“A what?”

“A goddamn spy, Sasuke! Stop acting like you don’t know what I’m talking about! Jesus Christ, you think I was never suspicious?” Hinata’s fingers balled into little red fists.  “You think I’m an...an idiot? Walking around having sex with my father’s henchmen without t-thinking about who they are? What that means? You think I’m not cataloging your every action, questioning your every behavior? Do y-you think I’ve never been used before?”

Sasuke’s head snapped up in alarm, “I wasn’t using––”

“I know,” Hinata conceded. “I fucking know that. But just...I need to sit down.”

Sasuke led her to his bed, the only piece of furniture besides his desk chair, and offered it for sitting. She chose the desk chair, folding into it like a doll. She felt faint. It was hot in the apartment, the radiators putting in their fair share of work as they hummed in greeting. 

“So...” Sasuke’s frown deepened. He sat on the bed across from her. They weren’t touching and it felt strange not to. “You knew.”

“No,” Hinata said. “I had guesses. T-theories.”

“Like what?”

She shrugged, her eyes fluttering away from him. “I dunno. I thought m-maybe you were trying to rebuild the Uchihas, and w-were hoping to gather intel on your so-called rivals. I thought you just wanted information on how to run a Syndicate because you were so young when––” she broke off, looked at him for a long moment, then looked away. The radiators hummed. “I didn’t think you were a spy , perse.” The word dipped with distaste that seemed foreign on Hinata’s tongue, but somehow wholly Hyuga. 

Sasuke sat heavily on the bed across from her. The desk and bed were close together––it was a tiny apartment––and their knees touched. Hinata jerked away, propelling herself and the chair into the desk behind her with a dull thud. She didn’t manage to go very far. 

“I am a spy, Hinata,” Sasuke said plainly. His eyes tried to find hers but she kept looking away. “I am an agent for an organization called ANBU. We are a private company, but for the last fifteen or so years, we have been working almost exclusively with the government.”

Hinata said nothing, so Sasuke kept going. “I was assigned this case with the Hyugas almost half a year ago. I was told to retrieve the Byakugan file, without even knowing what is on it.”

At this, Hinata clutched her neck, where she sometimes wore the flashdrive on a chain before delivering it to location, but she did not have it today. Still, a shock went through her body as a memory rumbled beneath the surface, “––b-but that day when I took you Yamanaka’s Flowers––you didn’t take it then. That was your chance!”

Sasuke nodded again, unperturbed. “I know it was, and it didn’t matter at that point. It’s...it’s hard to explain,” he said. “There are too many things.” He said.

Hinata stared at him blankly, her eyes revealing nothing as she demanded, “So explain them.”

So Sasuke explained as best as he could. He felt as if he talked in circles, sprinkling his own confusion over the sequences of events––the past ten weeks feeling like an entire lifetime. He told Hinata that he thought that it had been the Hyugas who had murdered his clan, and how as an agent his greatest aspiration was revenge. Revenge, and finding his brother. He told Hinata that the longer he stayed with the Hyugas, the more confused he became. He told her that ANBU began acting strangely and making decisions that did not make sense. He began to question the organization that he had made a home out of since he was 15 years old. He told her about the fear that welled up in his chest closely––the fear that he was going to die. He told her that he began to be suspicious of Gaara and his intentions with the Hyugas, and had started gathering intel on Suna, Suigestu, and Orochimaru. He told her about the lies. He told her that he found his brother, and his brother denied involvement with Orochimaru. He told her that he had asked Sakura––the pink-haired girl––for help, and now she was missing. It was too much. He could not make heads or tails of it all. 

And now ANBU had outed him to his assignment, and Itachi was right. He did not know anything at all. 

Hinata was silent for several long minutes, taking deliberate breaths in through her nose and out of her mouth. She felt the texture of the chair under her, the hard of the desk behind her, the soft of her skin when she pinched the skin between her thumb and index finger. Trembling she cast her eyes to the floor, “I knew...I knew something was up with you,” she admitted again.

“You see more than you let on,” Sasuke agreed, looking at her hard, his body tensed. Neither of them moved. The energy in Sasuke’s tiny apartment was electric. Hinata felt the humming of the radiator on her skin.

Hinata looked away, rubbing her arms as she continued:  “You k-know I study spies. I seek them out. That’s my role. I was just waiting to see what happened and then...I fell in love with you.”

She let the admission hover in the air. Sasuke did not move, he did not blink, and Hinata did not give him time to respond. Instead, she stood rigidly, feeling like her legs had turned into blocks of cement. “That’s why I c-came to warn you. You don’t have much time to make it out of Konoha alive, Sasuke. And I have a plan.”

-:-

The plan was absurd and Hinata knew it, but it was all she had. 

After a few minutes of terse discussion, Hinata opened the bag she took with her and revealed to Sasuke the hundreds of thousands of colorful yen  (and sweaters and a first-aid kit) she smartly packed inside. Because she had already exposed her weakness (admitting out loud that she was in love with him, and not giving him room to reply) she had to be strictly logical for the next several hours. She was intent on his survival. After that, well, they’d likely never speak again. And she had to be okay with it. That was her problem to bear. She should have never let this happen. 

Sasuke said nothing at the appearance of the yen, nothing at her brief explanation of Hyuga-coordinated assassinations, and nothing about her plan to meet in five hours at a location she specified with a point at her smartphone. 

He was to leave his studio apartment and go into hiding––the specific place, she could not advise––until they would meet up again in the early hours of the morning. Already, Hinata had coordinated new identification documents for him, she just had to wait to pick them up from a guy she knew. 

“So this is it?” Sasuke asked his tone hard. There was no sign of love in his voice. Hinata thought that maybe, she had made it all up. Maybe he had used her, and she had let him. Maybe he was using her now, and she couldn’t stop herself. 

And she couldn’t think about it now. She wanted to see him live.

“This is it,” Hinata confirmed. She turned to the door. “I’ll see you soon.”

-:-

Five hours passed and it felt like a century to the Uchiha. He left the apartment shortly after Hinata did, with the thousands of yen packed in a smaller bag of his choosing, and strapped to his back. He left the sweaters and the first aid kit behind. 

He left his car and all other worldly possessions behind in his studio––though, already he had few––the picture of his family was folded neatly into his otherwise empty wallet that rested in his pocket. Part of him wished he had a picture of Hinata, too. He figured he’d never get one. 

Her admission of love had shocked him into silence, and she hadn’t given him time to reply. He couldn’t have replied, even if she had presented the opportunity because he was so caught off guard by it. Then, she was continuing on as if it hadn’t happened. It was safe to say their relationship, if you could call it that, had not survived his betrayal. 

It was fair enough. 

But he could not account for how much it hurt . Worse than anything he had ever had to feel lately. Even the assassination attempts––which would be happening quite soon––paled in comparison to the constricting of his heart, the white noise in his head, and the flashes of memory that felt visceral across his skin. 

Focus , he thought, as the five hours filtered by, one by one, and every street corner hid a danger to him within its shadows. He didn’t know how Hinata expected him to survive this––any of it! Between the heartbreak and multiple people out to get him, he was good as gone. If morning came and he was still in Konoha, he would consider himself a lucky man. Or a dead one. 

He hid out in an old stockyard that used to be owned by the Uchiha some time ago. So long ago, in fact, that he was positive that no one would think to look for him there. They closed up this business forty years before he was born, but Sasuke remembered his father taking him there once as a child, and pointing into the forest of overgrown weeds. 

“We owned this once,” Fugaku said. They were going down a road adjacent to the yards in his Cadillac with the drop-top, wind blowing through their air. The blue of the sky reached corner to corner. “A worthy endeavor, before even I was born. My father grew tired of it, but we once kept all types of livestock in those pens.”

He pointed out rows of wooden fences that had been almost overtaken by greenery. On the other side of the highway was row after row of cornfields: endless commerce. 

“My father’s father told him––and he later told me as he drove me down this stretch of land when I was your age–– ’Let this be a reminder to you, boy. Uchihas are not meant to be caged. We watch the slaughter, but we’re not a part of it. So I bring you here like I brought your brother here, to see some of the legacies that your ancestors have left you.”

Sasuke peered out the car window at the acres of unused land, then turned to his father. “What do I do with it?”

“That’s for you and Itachi to figure out. I’m too old now, I’ve invested in other things. I wanted you both to have this yourselves. A gift”

Thanks Pops , Sasuke thought dryly as he surfaced from the memory. He was sitting with his back against one of the decrepit barns, cleaning the only gun he’d taken with him with an oily towel. He had no electronics on him to speak of, and could only tell the time by the position of the sun. That was something he’d learned from ANBU.  It was almost 3 am, and he would need to head to the rendevous point soon. 

Part of him considered that Hinata was selling him out, but he dismissed it. If she were selling him out, she would’ve shot him in his studio apartment or worse: she would’ve had someone else do it. 

She loved him and she wanted him to live. That said a lot, considering how he had made her feel. How he had betrayed her and knowingly fallen in love with her. All errors on his part. 

When the moon, a waxing gibbous, hung low enough over the trees, Sasuke left the barn and began a quiet run through the countryside, keeping his weapon drawn and his ears open. The rendevous point was near a river that was approximately 9 miles away. Sasuke ran a tight 7-minute mile more or less that would get him there just in time. 

The running almost felt like a baptism, but Sasuke could not shake the fear that had lived on his shoulders for the past few days. At this point, his only goal was survival. Everything had gone wrong so fast it was hard to say what the tipping point was––only that it had tipped over fast, and the consequences kept growing. 

At the juncture between the bridge and the lake, Hinata’s G-Wagon appeared in the sleek darkness. Sasuke panted as he watched her slide out of the driver's seat, wearing all black as her sneaker-clad feet sank gently into the ground. The moon was a flashlight over their heads, that made her hair look glossy, like silk, as she flipped it over her shoulder. When their eyes met, Sasuke felt his heart shudder.

Everything was absolutely fucked. 

Hinata took a few steps towards him, her feet sinking into the ground. She stood a couple of feet away, reached out an arm, and said, “here.”

Sasuke took the manila folder and opened it silently. Inside was a passport with his face under a different name: Rōnin Masuda. She’d also acquired a driver’s license, birth certificate, and a one-way plane ticket to Taipei, Taiwan. It was dated for the next day, around noon. 

“From there y-you can go anywhere you w-want,” Hinata said in a quiet voice. “w-with the money I gave you. Just s-stay away from Korea––we have a lot of family there.”

“You didn’t have to do this, Hinata.” Sasuke said, but what he wanted to say was I love you too. I love you. I love you. I’m so so so sorry. 

Hinata smiled a sad smile, the corners of her lips lifting without joy. Her eyes were dark in the shade of the moon. “I can’t watch my family hurt you,” she said. “Please. Make it to your flight. Survive.”

Sasuke crossed the invisible line that had been drawn between them and took her into his arms, holding her tight against his body. She breathed hard into his ear like she was about to cry, but she didn’t. She hugged him back, their bodies fitting together like a puzzle as Sasuke cradled the back of her head. He tried to force the words through his teeth, but they wouldn’t come. He cursed himself. He didn’t know why they would not come. I love you. Come with me. I’m sorry.

They broke apart suddenly at the sound of tires crunching over gravel. A car pulled across the bridge and headlights hit them. Hinata’s eyes widened and she shoved Sasuke down with a strength he did not know she possessed. Hinata ducked down with him, forcing his body over into the shade of her car, which the offending vehicle stopped in front of. They were half-laying in a bay of snow, and cold spread through their bodies.

Sasuke crouched over her, his body a shield over hers as they heard the door open. Hinata stared at him like he was stupid. “Here,” she whispered. A jingling sound was heard as she rooted through her pockets. “T-take my keys and get out of here.”

Sasuke frowned, shaking his head. “I’m not leaving you here, Hyuga.”

“They’re not here to hurt me ,” Hinata whispered furiously. The person was walking towards them now, their feet crunching. “It’s someone from the Estate––they must’ve followed me.”

The Uchiha didn’t move. “Come with me.”

Finally, he said it.

Hinata blinked, then shook her head. “I c-can’t do that Sasuke.”

“Come with me, Hinata. I’m not fucking leaving you here.” This time he left no room for argument, his tone terse––severe. He was still hovering over her, his hand gripping her arm. “I’ll take you as a hostage if you make me.”

Hinata paused before she tucked her keys into his pocket, her breath licking his neck in their trepid positions. “T-that actually...could work.”

“On three then,” Sasuke said. He locked his arm around her neck, pulling her up into a standing position, feeling her warm body against the expanse of his, and relishing in it. Perhaps for the last time. “One, two, three––”

He yanked them up with a strong pull, bringing them into the light of the vehicle. Sasuke felt Hinata’s breath hitch at the sight of her cousin: Neji Hyuga stood in front of them with an assault rifle. He grimaced when he saw them together. 

“Let her go, Uchiha.”

“Drop your fucking weapon, first!”

Hinata turned her head to the side as Sasuke tightened his grip, pretending like she were in pain. She whispered in his ear, sending shivers down his spine inadvertently, “Get i-into the car and drive as f-fast as you can out of Konoha. Abandon it at the border.”

Sasuke continued to hold her stiffly, contemplating his options until he shook his head minutely, ignoring Neji’s yelling from yards away. “You get in first. I said come with me. ”

Hinata gave him a sad smile into his neck and Sasuke made it look like he was the one doing it, holding his gun loosely at her skull, “You’ll only get f-followed. Please Sasuke, do this for me.”

Sasuke did not loosen his grip. Neji was yelling into the night, swearing, until he threw his weapon into the snow in surrender. 

He held his entire world in his arms, and he couldn’t even tell her, couldn’t even help her. Hinata kissed his neck, her hair shielding her from Neji, and gave him a way out. “If you love me, you’ll push me into the snow, and d-drive away. If y-you love me, y-you’ll survive. And that’s how I’ll know.”

Sasuke kissed her head and shoved her to the ground with all his force. He watched her body hit the snow before he got in her car, and drove off down the dirt path, and into the darkness.

Chapter Text

One week later

Hinata woke up to the sun streaming through the window, the light from it so bright she brought her blanket up over her head to cover her eyes. She was incredibly uncomfortable, but she kept that to herself as she heard footsteps pad down the stairs and enter the room. She heard the sounds of morning fill the small one-bedroom apartment: the refrigerator opening and closing, the coffee pot turned on, a dish being pulled out of a dishwasher. 

“Sorry if I woke you,” a quiet voice called over to her, where she had been sleeping on the couch. It wasn’t the most comfortable couch in the world, but she did enjoy how her body sunk into it like she was being claimed by it. “Want a cup of joe?”

“Please,” she nodded immediately, throwing her hair out of her face. She stared out of the window to her right––a large, floor-to-ceiling window with a view of the city and the mountains behind it––before turning to Shino with a small––fake––smile. “What are you doing today?”

She was in Iwa. She had been sleeping on her dear friend, Shino’s, couch for a week. She told him that she was fleeing her ex-boyfriend and she had bruises all over the left side of her body to prove it. 

When she arrived at an Iwa train station a week ago and locked herself in a private bathroom to look over her sore body, she hadn’t expected to find that half her torso had gone purple and yellow. She pressed her fingers into the bruises and winced. Damn. She didn’t think Sasuke would throw her that hard. 

She guessed he really loved her. 

Dark humor snuck around her, but sadness was her keeper. It made her lie––a domestic abuse situation––seem more convincing. Shino was a dear friend from her days in high school. They were both outcasts, but they enjoyed each other’s presence. They spent hours hiding out at Shino’s mother’s home. There, Hinata got to pretend to be normal and Shino learned to tattoo from her in exchange. 

He moved to Iwa for college, then dropped out after his mother died. After months of grief and a brief stint working retail, he finally made the decision to open his own tattoo shop with money from his mother’s life insurance. He did well in Iwa. Hinata was almost jealous of his stylishly-decorated one-bedroom loft in a trendy part of town, his beautiful tattoo studio a few blocks over, and the French bulldog named ShiShi who drooled onto Shino’s hardwood floor. It was a life she had once dreamed for herself, a long time ago. 

ShiShi hopped on the couch when she saw Hinata was awake, and put her head under her palm, greedy for attention. Shino was looking at her expectantly, and Hinata realized he had asked her a question. 

“Oh,” Hinata blushed. “S-sorry, I zoned out.”

“It’s okay, Hinata,” Shino said patiently. He was one of her kindest friends. He also thought she was traumatized which, well, she kind of was. Just not for reasons he thought. “I said I have a tattoo today and asked if you wanted to join me at the studio. I don’t think you’ve been down since I opened it.”

“Oh,” Hinata said again, feeling foolish. “Y-yes I’d love that! Do you mind if I shower first?”

“Of course,” Shino said. He pointed to the bathroom, though it had already been a week and Hinata knew well where it was. “I’m making rice and eggs for breakfast. How do you want yours?”

“Fried please,” she said and slipped out of the room. 

-:-

Shino had a high-pressured shower that beat on her bruises, but Hinata liked it that way. She used his shampoo––some bougie type that was “Geranium and snow mushroom” scented that smelled like the Earth after a rainshower––and scrubbed it into her scalp. In the shower, like clockwork, she thought about what happened after Sasuke pulled off in her G-Wagon. She couldn’t stop thinking about it.

She was winded after she hit the ground, the snow meeting her face, her side suddenly inflamed. It was a struggle to bring air into her lungs. 

Meanwhile, Sasuke was pulling out and back onto the road––the lights of her car were a bright flash, and then he was gone. 

Neji picked up his assault rifle and aimed it, but Hinata managed to pull her body up, despite the pain, and put it between Neji and her car. She did so until she watched the lights blink out of sight and Neji stopped trying to fight her.

Then, Neji pushed her too, surprising them both. It wasn’t a strong push, and she did not fall. She stared at her cousin in disbelief, Neji, in turn, held the same expression. It was fair.

“What the fuck are you doing, Hinata?”

She couldn’t answer. She had no answer. 

Neji threw down the rifle and Hinata watched it disappear into the snow. Before she knew it, Neji was grabbing the collar of her jacket, shaking her, spit flying. “I asked you a question, Hinata! What the fuck are you doing?”

“I––I don’t know,” her voice felt frozen in the back of her throat. With Sasuke out of immediate harm’s way, the adrenalin from earlier had faded to nothing. “I––”

“Goddamit,” Neji swore, unlike himself. But Hinata supposed that she was being unlike herself , too. So they were even. She and Neji were always even. “I don’t even know what to fucking do with you, Hinata. I thought––I thought I had imagined it.”

“Im-imagined what?” Hinata ventured. 

“Your love for the Uchiha––do you think I’m stupid?”

Hinata just blinked at him. No, she thought to herself. It is you who thinks I am stupid. Perhaps Neji was right. 

Neji huffed and turned around, the darkness swallowing his figure as he took a long route back to his car. Hinata followed closely behind him, swallowing what felt like lard, down her throat. “Neji––”

Neji got to his car. He’d taken one of the all-terrain jeeps that they kept on the Estate. The lights flashed. “I’m assuming you’re not going to tell me where he went.”

“I––I don’t know where he went, Neji. I was fucking being held hostage .” This was true. She didn’t know where he was going. Only that he had a flight to catch the next day.

Neji stared at her, then shook his head. He hopped into the jeep, leaving the rifle behind, and flickered off the lights, leaving her in the dark bush. “Okay,” he said placidly, like he didn’t believe her. Like he wasn’t willing to listen to anything he was saying. “I hope it was worth it.”

“Wh––what are you talking about, Neji?” Hinata found her way to the driver's side, where Neji was staring down at her, disgust curling his features. She could tell he was nervous though, because he was fixing his ponytail, which he did when he could not make a decision.

“Hinata,” his voice changed and he sighed. He sounded deeply sad. “You know––you know I love you? I love you, you’re one of the closest family members I have. But––after tonight, you can’t come home, you know that don’t you?”

Alarm thrummed against her ribcage. Yes, some part of her knew that, but she didn’t think it would get to be that way. Stupidly, Hinata stared up at him, her eyes welling with tears. 

“Tell me you know,” Neji said. 

“I know,” Hinata replied obediently, frowning. She forgot that Neji now outranked her. 

“Good,” Neji sighed. Then, he did something unexpected: he unlocked the door. “C’mon, I'll drive you to the train station. You know what you have to do to come back home.”

“Thanks,” Hinata said, but she had grown cold. She wasn’t allowed to come home. Her dear cousin would not vouch for her. And she had sent a man that did not love her, not the way she needed to, away with her money and her car. She felt like the biggest fool in the universe. 

She took the first train to Iwa that morning. 

-:-

“So you missed your flight a week ago, Rōnin,” Uchiha Itachi said. “What now?”

“I told you not to call me that,” Sasuke grumbled, feeling more and more like the bratty younger brother he was the longer he stayed with Itachi on his houseboat.  He’d spent most of the week drinking Itachi’s shitty beer and sleeping on the tiny futon that was installed next to the kitchenette. Privacy did not exist, but at least he wouldn’t be found. Apparently, this part of Kumozuhongocho was Akatsuki territory. Itachi refused to tell him why. 

He’d last seen Hinata a week ago, when he pushed her into the ground and drove her car into the night. He abandoned it once he reached city limits, taking the money, his passport, and his pride upon his back and shouldering it until he’d walked deep into the countryside. His feet began to ache but he continued on, and the sun began to warm his skin. After about five hours of walking through dense forest, he stumbled on a small town where he hot-wired a car and drove it halfway to Kumozuhongcho. He abandoned that one too and took the bus as a stranger the rest of the way, easily blending into the sleepy crowd of the fishing town with a traveler’s pack on his back. 

Before he got to Itachi’s houseboat, he bought a bottle of sake from the supermarket and burned his plane ticket on top of a patch of snow. He was being pretty dramatic. 

“I don’t know what’s next,” he found himself saying to his older brother. After a week together on a houseboat, after years of not speaking to each other, their relationship was more or less exactly the same. Itachi was challenging and patient. Sasuke was annoyed and impatient. “I just––I can’t leave. There’s too much unfinished business.”

“Hm,” Itachi made no response. He was at the stovetop warming a bowl of soup, a book in one hand, a cigarette, and a serving spoon in the other. “What about our unfinished business, little brother?”

“Enlighten me,” Sasuke suggested, feeling his body recline deeper into the futon, shielding the sunlight with his forearm thrown over his head. His body felt impossibly old. He thought of Sakura and Naruto and hoped they were okay. 

“You are aligned with the Hyugas,” Itachi pointed with the spoon. He was making tomato soup the way their mother had taught them. He was impossibly endearing and terrifying at the same time. Sasuke had stopped playing along with his games days ago; exhausted. “And the Hyugas–– you-–– killed one of ours: Deidara. What would happen if one of them were to unexpectedly pay me a visit?”

“You’d be forced to vouch for me,” Sasuke said haughtily. “Besides, we’re even. Hyugas killed Deidara because Hidan killed Hizashi. Bastard deserved it, too. Besides, I’ve got some Hyuga secrets I’m not afraid to tell.”

Itachi scoffed, dipping the spoon into the creamy red soup. The boat rocked to the side. “Your jaw tensing is your tell, little brother. You won’t tell Hyuga secrets for the very same reason you’ve missed your flight. There is someone keeping you here.” He put the lid over the soup and re-lit his cigarette on the stove. The boat smelled like tobacco and tomatoes. Sasuke leaned over and opened a window so he wouldn’t puke. 

“But you’re right about one thing, Akatsuki and Hyugas? Consider us even. I have a feeling we’ll have more to talk about on that front soon enough.” Itachi said. 

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Sasuke asked. He was staring out at sea, where fishing crews led their boats into the distant gray. The sun had receded back behind its hiding place. Sasuke didn’t know where to go from here. He could not go to Hinata, but he could not simply leave the country. He needed to find Sakura and Naruto. He needed to make sure that Gaara wasn’t planning something catastrophic. He needed to make sure Hinata was safe. 

“I’ve read this book before,” Itachi said, blowing smoke at the ceiling. 

“Whatever.” Sasuke frowned and stood from his seat. He put on his coat and boots and pushed himself out of the houseboat and into the cold air. As he stepped onto the ground, Itachi followed him out, falling easily in step beside him.

“What?”

Itachi just looked at him, his figure stark against the blue of the sea. His expression was contemplative: peaceful. “You need to know that there is a big meeting here in a few days. If you are going to stay and I am going to vouch for you, you’re going to have to give me a reason why.”

Sasuke paused in step. They both knew what Itachi meant. He’d have to trade his secrets––at the very least––the Hyuga ones. That meant betraying Hinata in more ways than one. In more ways than he had already. His stomach knotted itself. “How long do I have?”

Itachi’s mouth tightened minutely at the corners, his eyebrows drawing, “48 hours, little brother. These things are rarely decided in advance. I just got word.”

His apologetic tone struck Sasuke as a kindness. Something warm and familiar curled inside the cold of Sasuke’s heart, which had already thawed considerably because of Hinata. Itachi did not want to lose their tepid connection more than Sasuke wanted to find another place to go. He had nowhere. He was probably safest on Itachi’s tiny houseboat, hidden away from the world, his body curled around itself. He was grieving. Perhaps, he and Itachi had been grieving together this whole time. 

“I’ll let you know,” was all Sasuke said, his voice tight, a thin line in an open space. The ground was wet with hard snow. Everything was stark and gray. He and Itachi looked at each other and then looked away. “I’ll decide by the morning.”

“Hn,” Itachi hummed, then swiftly turned, presumably back to his soup. Sasuke watched his form disappear into the gray of the day, before continuing forward, one foot in front of the other, a death march by his own design. 

He needed to find his friends. He needed Hinata. He needed...he needed a fucking laptop. He walked to town and shivered until he found an internet cafe. He felt like the worst spy in the entire world. 

-:-

Shino’s tattoo studio reminded Hinata of a dream she’d once had. It was a dream from her teenage years when she was dating Gaara and things were good. It was in the weeks before Baki was murdered when Hinata started to come up with a plan for the two of them together. It involved undergraduate degrees, studio apartments, tattoos, and art making––all of this, away from the eyes of their families. She wanted to create a space where they could grow together. 

There were a few, rather glaring, divergences from Hinata’s daydream in Shino’s studio. For one, it was painted slate green, with an almost scientific aesthetic with silver fluorescent overhead lights and carefully placed tattoo equipment spread out on trays. On the walls, Shino had framed illustrations of insects: the insides of a bumble bee, a detailed dragonfly wing, an investigation of a tarantula leg. It was evident that Shino’s specialty was tattooing bugs. He could do almost anything, at this point in his career, but his flash was almost entirely composed of insects.

It was clear he was doing well for himself. Hinata sat in the waiting area, on a fluffy white loveseat, and watched Shino place the stencil on his client with ease. The client was getting some sort of water beetle, sized the shape of his palm, tattooed to his calf. Good for him , Hinata thought. 

To be honest, life seemed unbearable at this point. She missed her family and the Estate. She missed her items. She missed Sasuke. She was restless after dinner, thinking about Gaara and what would happen at the Boys Club meeting, and who they would send in her place––if they would send anyone at all. 

She and Shino had taken the subway to the studio. She never took the subway in Konoha, so she welcomed the bumps as they moved along the tracks, the stream of people that came and went, and the passing scenery like it was a movie. When a girl with brown hair sat across from them on the train, talking loudly on her phone, with a pang she was reminded of Hanabi. She had simultaneously been struck with the thought: They will send Hanabi in my absence. 

What mattered was that a Hyuga woman went with the Suna. It didn’t matter much which one. The thought made her heart sink, and the rest of the way to the studio Hinata chewed on her fingers, her anxiety crawling up her throat. She had to get back home, it was evident now. She couldn’t let Hanabi take her place. 

Everything had gotten so twisted so suddenly. Her hands knotted themselves in her lap as Shino set up his tattoo machine beside his workstation. He was talking to his client so he scarcely noticed her quickly building anxiety attack. Hinata could barely focus on what was going on around her, she thought in one long stream: I have to go back, I have to go back , I have to go––

Something bright pink passed by in the front display windows. It caught Hinata’s eye, her mantra fading into nothing as the color danced away, the pink trailing into the crowd. It was hair, shaved back, and quickly stuffed into a skull cap, but it was hair nonetheless. 

Hinata got up without speaking, already out of the front door, yelling to Shino: “Getting coffee! Text me what you want!” Before waiting for a reply. She slipped out into the stream of people––Shino’s shop was on a busy stretch of business in a yuppie part of town––in search of the skullcap. The hat the hair had disappeared into was nondescript: black and otherwise unremarkable. Hinata’s heart felt like it was in her throat. 

She charged forward, going and going, until she spotted the hat––or what she thought was––turn a corner. They were walking fast, but Hinata could be faster. The street opened up to a market so suddenly Hinata staggered back. Sounds, colors, and smells assaulted her, rendering her confused. People bumped into her and she let her body be pushed as she searched, her eyes darting between heads, but she’d lost them. 

But she wouldn’t give up. She shouldered past the crowds, ducking between concession stands, tiny boutiques, and people trying to sell her odd perfumes. The farther and farther she went, the less she even knew what she was looking for. Reality started to crash heavily on her shoulders. What was she doing? Who was she looking for? And if it was the person she thought it was...What could they do to help her?

Desolation threatened to make her crumble right there, right in the middle of the afternoon market, but she kept moving so as not to be an easy target for muggers. She slunk to the outside of the market, walking past the edges of various stands, and using the brick of the surrounding buildings for support. 

“What’s wrong with you, Hinata?” she whispered to herself. “This isn’t like you.”

This continued for a couple of minutes until she decided to turn around and head back to Shino. She’d have to get the coffee she’d mentioned, so she ducked her head down to look at her phone for recommendations. In the split second between opening Google and typing in “coffee,” she was being slammed against a wall, the back of her head hitting something hard. Sharp pain filtered as she slowly comprehended the situation as if played in slow motion. Her mouth dropped open as she groaned a soft swear. 

The last thing she saw was a pair of green eyes glaring at her. Before she passed out she thought, thank god. 

Chapter Text

The room was hot. 

There was a TV on, humming low in the background. Voices with slight accents spoke about the weather, petty crime in the area, and election results. She was still in Iwa, thank God. Around her, she was met with something plush, soft: a bed or couch. Her arms and legs were not tied and she could move freely. What could this mean? How confident were her kidnappers?

Hinata kept her eyes closed when a door opened and shut, and a lock was turned with a quiet click . Footsteps. Someone was holding a plastic bag, which they dumped on a surface not too far from her head. They began to sort through their items, and the sound of shuffling objects so close to Hinata’s ear almost made her twitch. 

Almost. 

The person walked across the room, and a slapping sound emitted. Flesh against flesh. Hinata kept her breath level: she hadn’t known that there was a second person in the room. She was glad she had chosen to remain still, keeping her face pressed into the fabric around her. The person grunted in surprise. More shuffling was heard like they were getting up. 

“I can’t believe you fucking fell asleep,” they said, their voice like hot oil. 

The second person yawned and the sound of it filled the room. “Relax,” they said. They sounded familiar, but Hinata was growing a headache inside of her panic and it was becoming hard to think. “She’s not going to hurt me.”

“Tch,” person number two said. “How do you know that, Naruto? She was following me, remember?”

There was a silence. Then, something hissed. A bottle opened. The room soured as a glass filled. The same person said, “Don’t you think it’s too early to start drinking?”

“Never too early when all this shit is going on.”

It occurred to Hinata that, among all the other things she did not know, she didn’t know the time, or how long she had been gone. Shino was probably worried. She tried to recall the sequence of events: the tattoo shop, the pink-haired woman, the market––

“She’s awake,” person number one said, and before Hinata could move to defend herself, or open her eyes good, they were pushing her against the couch and taking her arms behind her back, clamping them together with heavy force. Hinata barely had time to protest. 

“Seriously, Sakura, you need to calm down,” the person said. Hinata managed to look up as she struggled and all the air left her lungs. It was Shenji. He was alive and well! “She’s not going to hurt us,” he turned to her with his familiar blonde hair, his familiar kind-eyed smile. “You’re not going to hurt us, right Hinata?”

“N-no,” Hinata managed, her voice hoarse. Sakura was putting pressure on her lower back and Hinata’s face was being pushed into a cushion. She realized she had been sleeping on a leather couch.

Shenji looked at Sakura as if saying see? and took a sip of his beer. Slowly, Sakura got off of her, releasing her hands after a long pause. She joined Shenji at the foot of one of the full beds and crossed her arms over her chest. 

Hinata righted herself slowly, feeling as if her brain had been jostled out of socket. It hammered against her eyes, but she took this brief pause to take in her surroundings. She was in a hotel room in downtown Iwa, high up somewhere. It was dusk. There were numerous neon signs blinking in the distance, swallowing up the coming night with their vigor. 

The hotel room was small, bathed in green wallpaper, and rancid-smelling. There were two duffle bags placed between the double full beds, and fast-food wrappers piling the bedside tables. One of the beds was unmade––presumably, the one Shenji had just been napping in––and the other was covered in guns of all shapes and sizes. 

Sakura––though, Hinata was sure they had met under a different name––had cut her hair down to her skull. Her face was pitched in anxiety. She was wringing her hands. 

Shenji was more casual, looking the way he always had at the Estate: aloof, dry-humored, good-natured as he nursed his beer and candy bar. He sat casually on the bed, looking at her before he said, “Hey Hinata. It’s good to see you again. I’m glad Sakura here didn’t knock you out for good.”

“I didn’t hit her that hard,” Sakura grumbled back as if this was an argument the two of them had already had. Then, she turned to Hinata her lips pursed and dangerous. “So. Tell us why you were following me.”

But Hinata could not. She was too focused on Shenji, and how he was standing before her, injury-free, a new man in a new city. How he laughed without care. How he smiled with such ease. How he spoke so casually to this woman who had just put her knee in Hinata’s back with ease. Hinata could not make sense of this, of him, of his sudden appearance in another city on a different side of the country. Her mouth opened and closed uselessly as if she were a fish outside of the water, and finally, she landed on saying: “But––but, Shenji. How are you h-here? Where did you go?”

Shenji sat heavily on the bed and it sank under his weight. “Hinata,” he began. “My name is not Shenji, it’s Naruto. I worked with Sasuke and Sakura to infiltrate the Hyugas in order to steal the Byakugan file. I escaped the hospital before it was too late––”

“Before ANBU double-crossed us,” Sakura spit. “We disappeared together. But––”

When Sakura broke off, seemingly full of emotion, Naruto picked up for her. It became clear to Hinata that they had been working together for years. “––But, we couldn’t get to Sasuke in time. I know you all have a connection and you’re here in Iwa––not with the syndicate––for a reason. Can you tell us where Sasuke is?”

Hinata stared at them. The Tv flickered as a commercial break dimmed the screen. The neon lights blinked in the distance as the sunset. Hinata cleared her throat: “I have––I have no reason to help you.”

She watched Sakura stiffen. Watched her hand slide over her waistband.

“B-but you have no reason to h-help me either,” Hinata amended quietly, staring at the carpeted floor, where a brown stain met the doorway to the bathroom. “I...Ioved Sasuke. I arranged for him a passport and a ticket out: to Taiwan. With any luck, he got out safe.”

“So why are you here?” Sakura demanded. “Why did you follow me?”

Hinata bit her lip and turned her head away. Pain bloomed with the movement. “I was––I was banished by my family. F-for helping Sasuke.” The couch was becoming uncomfortable. “And I don’t know. I was restless, and I thought I saw you walk by. I-I knew you know Sasuke and I wanted to know if––needed to k-know if you knew if he was alright.”

“Well, it’s because of your family if he’s not.”

“W-we are not the ones who are spies,” Hinata hissed.

The room was silent; cold. Naruto had his head bent over a laptop, ignoring them both and biting his thumb between his teeth. Sakura crossed her arms across her chest as she glared at Hinata, her pink brows furrowed, “So again I ask you: why the fuck did you follow me, a known and denounced spy ? A fucking ANBU deserter.”

“For exactly t-that reason,” Hinata said slowly. “And I...I think I need help saving my sister.”

Sakura scoffed. “Saving her from who? Your own family?”

Hinata was quiet, ashamed. She didn’t know who else to ask for help, she could not even confirm her own suspicions. They were just feelings she had. “Sort of, but no. From the Suna. I think––I think they’re trying to take us d-down.”

Sakura’s eyebrow lifted: a morsel of interest. “Suna?” she said, momentarily baffled. “Sasuke asked me to look into them, Gaara specifically. We think he––”

“Speaking of Sasuke,” Naruto cut Sakura off suddenly, flipping his laptop around so that she could see. “I just got this message from him, I think. Can you make it out? It’s in code.”

Hinata’s heart leaped into her throat. She sat still as she watched Sakura kneel in front of the laptop as she deciphered some of the symbols that appeared on the screen. It took three long minutes and each one threatened to suffocate Hinata completely. Finally, after Sakura had scribbled a few phrases down on a napkin with a dull pencil, she exhaled. 

Then she looked at Hinata. “The good news is, he’s alive. The bad news is that he’s in Kumozuhongocho. He never made it to Taiwan.”

“What’s in Kumozuhungocho?”

“The Akatsuki,” Naruto sighed, then shook his head. “They’ll never let us get to him if they have him.”
Hinata stood up suddenly, ignoring the vertigo and the unsteadiness of her limbs. “Yes they will,” she declared, ignoring the fear. “I have something they want.”

“What could you possibly have to offer, disgraced Hyuga heiress?” Sakura mocked her, real fire and far in her tone. She was as afriad for Sasuke as Hinata was. 

“Take me there and y-you’ll find out,” Hinata demanded, using her Hyuga-voice, her Hyuga-upbringing, her Hyuga-ancestors in her tone. Her father would be proud of her. “We’ll get Sasuke back, and then you fill help me save my sister.”

-:-

“You know, Father never wanted this life for you,” Itachi said, the night before the Akatsuki were due to show up at his door. The two brothers were sitting outside of the houseboat, on small stools Itachi had purchased from a nearby swap-meet. Sasuke’s had Mickey Mouse on it. He was smoking a cigarette slow, swriling the smoke around his gums and lips and teeth, inhaling it long down his lungs. He thought about Hinata and about his friends who should have received a message from him 12 hours ago. 

They had not replied, and Sasuke did not know if that was good or bad. He did not know anything. In the past few days, he had grown comfortable with that thought. Maybe he truly would not ever see Hinata again. He was unsure of his purpose. He felt like he was in purgatory, watching the short days pass him in a blur. He knew this houseboat and how the smooth interior of it cradled his loneliness; he knew the small kitchen, the herbs on the windowsill narrowling avoiding frostbite, the old and tattered rugs that lined the floor. Intimately, he was getting to know the day-bed at the front of the boat, and how the cushions were getting know the hardened edges of his body. He knew the internet cafe down the street, and how it was full of old women emailing their grandchildren. They told him this one day when he sat down, they said: “My grandbaby is in America. My grandbaby is in Tokyo. My grandbaby is in England. My grandbaby is in Okinawa. My grandbaby is in Konoha, doing great big things. What about you? You look like you could be around my grandbaby’s age, no?”

Sasuke was polite and short, perhaps even a little indulgent––he had the time after all. He flicked the cigarette ash and it landed at his feet. It was cold out. Itachi was grilling beef on a small red grill, nestled with its feed in the snow. In the short couple of weeks Sasuke had been there, he learned that his brother loved to cook. 

“What do you mean?” Sasuke drawled his words slow, uncaring. Sometimes, when he closed his eyes, he could see the head of Hinata’s dragon on her navel, and it whispered to him. Mostly curses like how dare you , and liar , and coward . It blew fire at him in his sleep. When he dreamt, he saw his hands pushing her body into the snow: his version of I love you. “If you love me, you’ll survive and that’s how I’ll know,” she said. But how could she know how he truly felt? Nothing good came when love met violence. 

“You’re not even listening,” Itachi chidded, prodding the meat with a tong. Fire licked the edges of the grill and Itachi cursed as he moved the coal around. “I’m trying to tell you something important.” 

“I’m listening,” Sasuke lied. He extinguished the cigarette in the snow, watching the orange end fade to nothing. 

“I said Father didn’t want this life for you. Did you ever notice how meetings happened when you weren’t around?”

“I wasn’t paying attention to stuff like that,” Sasuke spit. “Besides, he had a funny way of showing it, the way his men raced across the football field to the back cabins day and night, doing God knows what. You think I saw nothing?”

It was a tired subject. What did it matter what his father had wanted for him, now that he was dead and Sasuke was on his way to an early grave. 

Itachi sighed, “Well, of course you knew what was going on. You were a perceptive child, as you were expected to be. But if ANBU hadn’t attacked us that night, if Father was still alive, you would have lived a completely different life. I know it seems like what I am saying is obvious, but it is not so simple. Father was going to send you to boarding school when you turned 10. Somewhere far. England or Germany, I think, so that you would never be involved in this.”

Beside him was a handle of warm spiced whisky. Sasuke unscrewed the top with deft fingers, flicking it away into the snow. He took a long swig, and he felt his brother’s eyes on him. “What is so fucking important about that, Itachi? Inquiring minds would like to know.”

“It means that this life was not fated,” Itachi said. He placed the lid on top of the grill, and the flame disappeared between them. The two brothers were bathed in blue. The ocean behind them was as silent and as sleepy as midnight. “It means that you have always had options. Don’t let this be your last choice.”

Sasuke scoffed. To think he had ever had choice. 

-:-

It was almost midnight when their stolen Jeep crossed into the countryside. They were miles from Konoha, and miles from Iwa. In the hotel room, the three of them smashed Hinata’s phone with the icebucket, and flushed its remains down the toilet. Hinata sent Shino a teary but convincing voice memo that was just vague enough to keep him away, “He took me back, Shino,” Hinata had sniffled into the phone. “Everything is going to be okay. He’s not going to hurt me again.”

It was mean, but it needed to happen. Shino’s mother had been in handfuls of relationships like this in his youth, and he had learned quickly that the lure of love and security was sometimes worth more than the truth of safety. Shino would let her go. He would check on her, he would wish her well, but he would let her go. 

While Sakura packed and cleaned the guns, Naruto went street-level to pick up a car off the street. Sakura lent one to Hinata with a severe eye. “You know how to use this, right?” she’d asked tersely, holding a pistol and a thigh strap arm-legnth towards Hinata. 

If Hinata hadn’t been raised better, she might have said a kind fuck you . Instead, she took the weapon and and strapped it in, not giving the exiled agent the time of day. She helped Sakura carry a duffle bag of weapons and spy gear to the car where Naruto waited with the car warming, its exhaust sending puffs of steam into the cold air. When Hinata felt her lips, they were raw and bleeding. It was below freezing in Iwa and the neon signs above her blinked down provocatively. Stay, the lights said, their arms open. You could be safe here. 

She and Sakura did a sweep of the hotel room, making sure that they had not left a trace. Sakura balled up the bedding, the pillowcases, the sheets while Hinata collected eating utencils, cans of beer and pop, pens, the remote controls and hotel phone, and all the garbage bags. “Leave not a trace,” Sakura said. 

They loaded all of this junk into the Jeep. Hinata watched Iwa pass her by, her heart full of her teenage dream of the studio apartment, the tattoo shop, the college degree. She could start over here, couldn’t she? Couldn’t she?

Naruto drove three hours out of Iwa until they stopped in a field. At that point it was 9pm. Sakura had a can of gasoline which they had purchased with cash at a gas station 50 miles before. Quickly, she dowsed the bedding and the garabe and the electronics in the fluid, tossing a lit match over it. Hinata watched the flames lick the edge of the snow and felt for the first time, her dreams dissipate. They sunk deep into her body, tangled up inside one of each other, and then released. There was nothing more of that. This was reality. 

The three of them watched the smoke clear. Once traces of their DNA had been properly released, they got back in the car and discussed plans for when they would arrive to  Kumozuhungocho. 

“You must have something the Akatsuki will want,” Sakura said, a bite in her voice. 

“Of course I do,” Hinata said, and left it at that. 

-:-

At fifteen miles out, Sakura ripped the GPS from the vehicles head and smashed it with her Hydroflask bottle. Hinata watched from the backseat as Naruto took it and dropped it out of the window and on to the road. A car behind them ran it over. It had had the coordinates of Sasuke’s location on it. 

At ten miles out, Sakura explained that she had been doing research for Sasuke, which lead her to doing research on ANBU. “Basically I found out something I shouldn’t have,” she said, biting her nail. 

Hinata filled in the gaps. “That it was ANBU that had lead a coordinated attack against the Uchiha’s, not us. I assume they wanted to destabalize the Yakuzu families, and started with one of the biggest ones.”

“Yes,” Sakura said, eyes sharp. A town billowed in the distance amongst the snow hills. The roads had been icy and unpredictable. The darkness was prevailing. She turned in her seat, facing the Hyuga. “That. But they could not get to the Hyuga because you all have the Byakugan file, which is what Naruto and Sasuke had been sent for.”

“Of––of course,” Hinata said. This was not new information. 

“But they also could not get to the Suna, either,” Sakura said. “Because they’re working together. I didn’t want to get into it, because I still wasn’t sure if I could trust you, but––you have good reason to believe that your sister is in danger.”
Hinata swallowed hard. Nodded. “And that’s w-why I need your help.”

At five miles out, the blizzard started and the roads got worse. The town sprung up around them in bunches of small buildings. A convenience store, a post office, then nothing. A public pool (closed), a bathhouse, a temple, then nothing again. Clusters of small homes sat tight together or spread apart, snow accumulating in the small hills between them. It was charming, Hinata had to admit, the simplicity of the town. The lights from their windows twinkled in almost a welcoming fashion. 

At three miles out, Hinata’s stomach twisted. What if Sasuke did not want to see her? What if he refused to help her? What if what she wanted was stupid? 

At two miles out, her heart raced in her ears. Naruto and Sakura trudged the vehicle forward, their faces pinched and serious.

At one mile out, Hinata let a single tear roll down the mountain of her cheek. What if she was too late? What if Naruto and Sakura were lying to her?

At one minute away, they pulled up beside the crest of the water where Hinata was sure she would die. Naruto cut the engine and figures stood abruptly from their places sitting amongst the snow. There was a fire glowing inside of a grill between them. 

Hinata was opening the car door before she even saw him good, tripping over her own feet and the seatbelt to get out. When her feet landed on the soft of the ground, it was just for a millisecond, because Sasuke was scooping her up and pressing her to his chest. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He kept saying, his face in her chest, her warmth spreading to him. “I’m so sorry Hinata. I’m sorry. I will never leave you like that again.”

Chapter Text

Sasuke’s arms felt like a small gift. 

Hinata folded herself into them, her head beneath his chin, her mouth wavering as she held in a cry. His warmth was all-encompassing: she could not believe that he was here, touching her, alive. 

He kept saying I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry and Hinata thought that she was responding, pushing the words out of her mouth, huffing up winds trying to reciprocate. It’s okay, she said as she clung to him. He felt skinnier somehow, even though it had only been a week and a half. It’s okay. You’re okay. We’re going to figure this out. Together. 

The embrace ended too soon: there were other people watching. Naruto and Sakura stood next to the car, idling. Naruto was politely looking away, and Sakura was defiantly looking forward, at them, her brow furrowed. 

Sasuke released her in his shock at seeing his teammates. The loss of his arms felt like the end of the world, but Hinata was brave. Sasuke went forward and clapped Naruto hard on the back, who copied the gesture, his face breaking into a large grin. They spoke to each other lowly, open-mouthed, and eager. Sasuke even barked out a laugh, and his voice sound full and heavy with the labor of it. He hadn’t laughed in weeks. 

Hinata watched Sakura who stared at Sasuke with crossed arms, her expression one of dissatisfaction. When he finally broke apart from Naruto and turned to her, this expression broke, and tears slid down her face. Her nose turned pink with the effort. Sasuke hugged her, touching her head with such intimacy, that Hinata looked away, a knot in her throat. 

These people love each other , she thought to herself. Really love each other. She didn’t know how to process how she felt, only that she felt lonely and missed her family. While she was happy to be back with Sasuke, she felt the gap of her family’s absence, the shame of her banishment, and the fear for her younger sister well up in her stomach. These thoughts knotted themselves inside her, making her stomach hurt. 

She was so lost in thought that she hadn’t heard the man behind her, and she turned to see Uchiha Itachi sitting on a small stool that looked to be for children. He wore a mild expression on his unmistakingly Uchiha face––all straight lines, no bullshit. He was watching the scene play out in front of him, deep in thought. When he noticed her looking, he inclined his head and gestured to the stool beside him. An invitation.

The sight of this Uchiha––his existence only rumored at this point––made Hinata even more anxious, but she approached the stool, confident that Sasuke would not let any harm come to her. The depth of trust startled her, but she did not have time to ruminate on it as she sat next to the older Uchiha. He gestured to the bottle of alcohol that sat between them, his eyebrow quirked. 

Boisterous laughter erupted from Naruto only yards away. Sasuke turned to look at her and they made eye contact. He inclined his head, his body moving toward her, his feet moving without a second thought, but Hinata shook her head so he turned back around. 

“They have been his family for almost ten years now,” Itachi said. Hinata hadn’t expected his voice to sound so young, though he could not have been more than a decade older than her. “He and I are just getting to know each other again. We’ve been sharing food; recipes our mother used to cook.”

Hinata looked at the grill a few feet away, the heat of it reminded Hinata of the cold. It smelled good. Every new sense was like a shock to her body: had she been this numb this whole time? “That’s...that’s wonderful. I can’t imagine what that must feel like.”

Itachi did not take his eyes off Sasuke either, “I’ve known where he was for a while. I tracked him down once he went to high school, but after that, he disappeared completely. No trace. Few years later he shows up on a random darkweb database. I couldn’t believe that my little brother had become a fucking spy.”

Hinata was not sure what he wanted her to say. Sasuke and his friends were walking towards them, each of their faces a little bit brighter than before. She looked at Itachi and saw pieces of Sasuke there. She saw the grief, too. 

“I can’t imagine what that must’ve felt like,” she said, again, for lack of anything else to say. She had her own family to process. 

Itachi offered a short laugh, “Of course you can, Hyuga. My little brother was sent to spy on your family. And yet, you are here.”

“I am here,” she agreed. She loved him. Possibly too much. 

“Hm,” Itachi hummed and it sounded so much like Sasuke that Hinata’s heart thudded in her chest, thinking about their family and the massacre that had knocked the underground market off its feet for months. “Love has ended empires,” he said. 

“I––I don’t believe in empires,” Hinata said, which was true. She did not.

Itachi smiled wryly, “Of course, you don’t, Hyuga Hinata.” He got up and lifted the head of the grill, meat sizzled and crackled on top. “The Akatsuki will be here by daylight. You better have something to give them. Neither I nor my foolish little brother will be able to protect you if you do not.”

“Of course,” Hinata said immediately. She had already had this conversation with Sakura and Naruto. Why they did not think that the child of Hyuga Hiashi had nothing up her sleeve, she did not know. But it was not her business what others thought of her. She cared about two things: Sasuke and saving Hanabi from Gaara. She would give up almost anything to ensure the safety of both of them. “Why don’t we all––”

“No,” Itachi held up his hands. “Now is not the time for planning. That will come later. You are Hyuga,” he observed, his eyes lit with humor. This humor was a surprise to her and she did not know how to react so she did not. “So straight to the point and uptight. Drink, and celebrate, you have made it this far. Besides,” he sat back down and held the gallon of clear alcohol in his lap. “You will have to fight soon enough.”

Hinata understood this and nodded. She would have to fight soon enough, and Itachi probably understood this better than anyone else. In the corner of her eye, she watched Sasuke untangle himself from his friends to stand beside her. He eyed the two of them curiously, but Itachi playfully looked away with a swig of the alcohol. Hinata smiled innocently in his direction, her core quickly warming at the sight of him. How weak she made him. He extended his hand, and she took it without a second thought.

-:-

“Whose room is this?” Hinata asked breathlessly as Sasuke placed hot kisses on her neck. The boat didn’t move because the water that held it was frozen solid. It was cold on the boat, but she didn’t mind: her skin was flushed and eager. 

“Does it matter?” Sasuke quirked an eyebrow and put an arm under her bottom. Easily, he swept her off her feet and placed her gently in the bed. He was wearing all of these layers, which he shed slowly, dropping his coat on the floor in the doorway, then his hat, then his sweater went over his head and onto the floor. Hinata wasn’t wearing nearly as much, it had been warmer in Iwa, and it had only taken her a few strong drinks to forget the nip of the cold. 

Hinata giggled into his neck, whispering: “Your brother will know what we do.”

“He’s grown,” Sasuke said, moving her body up the full bed. It took up most of the small room and Itachi’s few belongings lined the windowsills: books, mostly, and some mugs. A few yen. Sunglasses. Sasuke reached and tugged the curtains in place, though he could still see the outlines of his friends against the outdoor lights. 

He bent down to focus on Hinata once more, breathing her in. He wanted to lock his body around hers so that they would never have to be apart in this way again. She looked back up at him, her eyes clear and unafraid. When he went to tug at the bottom of her shirt, she stopped him. 

“Wait, Sasuke.”

He looked at her. She swallowed. Looked away. Looked back. “Are you...are you okay?”

He smiled ruefully and sat up straight. She was so close to him and he had missed her so much. He thought about seeing Naruto and Sakura again and how he hadn’t known that he had the ability to love anyone this much. How much it hurt to love. How scared he was to do it. How angry he felt about it, and about the fear. How much he had trusted. How it all felt painful. 

He shook his head, “No, Hinata. I am not okay,” he watched her move to sit up. “But I’ve also never been better.”

Hinata nodded slowly, understanding instantly. There was a rumble of laughter outside and the slosh of liquor. Itachi had lit a bonfire. “We have...we have a lot to talk about.”

Sasuke raised an eyebrow, “Should we do that right now or...?”

He was being sarcastic as his eyes flickered over her body, taking in the way her long legs took light, the way her T-shirt rode up on her stomach, thinking about how he wanted to lick the dragon from it’s head to its tail. Part of him wanted nothing more than just this. The other part of him understood her concerns and felt them, too. He just wanted to be alone with her. He wanted to forget about all the other noise. He wanted her to be the only sound on the planet. 

But he was a rogue agent, and she was a banished Yakuza. They could only ignore so much. So he bit the bullet before her, knowing what she needed, and knowing what he could provide. It was only fair: she had saved his life. 

“You want to go back to your family,” he said knowingly, watching her face change. The strange hope in her eyes contrasted the panic that pinched her mouth into a fine line. He wanted to take away that pain.

“N-now that I know you’re okay, I––”

“You don’t have to explain it to me, Hinata,” Sasuke said. If he had a family to go back to, he would probably do the same thing. She was on the other side of the bed facing him. The checkered green blanket felt like an ocean between them. “I understand.”

She shook her head, “No,” she said and there it was: the panic in her voice. “I--I think Hanabi is in trouble. After the Akatsuki come I have to go back I have to––”

“Hinata,” Sasuke said patiently. He reached out a hand and she tentatively grabbed it. Her hands were rough, just like his were. “I don’t think you understand. I don’t think I’ve explained it to you, and I am deeply sorry about that.”

She said nothing. Sakura was saying something outside about wanting to see the northern lights one day. This far away from any major city, there were thousands of stars out for them to drink in. 

Sasuke pulled her towards him, “Hyuga. Hinata. I am in love with you. I have been in love with you this entire time. I am prepared to go with you wherever you go. I like the Hyugas,” he said, and then laughed, because who would have thought he would have ever been saying anything like this. “And I know what I have to do to get back in their good graces. I am prepared to do that a million times over. For you.”

Hinata’s eyes lit up, then welled with tears. Through them, she said something like “you only have ten fingers.”

He barked a laugh, pulling her into a hug against his chest. “An arm, a leg, whatever it takes after that. Whatever you put me through, I’m in.”

Hinata shook her head, “Y-you don’t mean that.”

“Of course I do. Look at me,” Hinata shyly looked up and that the stubbornness, the love, the intention behind his gaze. “I’m fucking in love with you.”

Hinata smiled then, and shook her head, though the disbelief had left her gaze. “I’m in love with you too.”

-:-

The Akatsuki came after breakfast.

Sasuke nudged Hinata awake at the crack of dawn, and they untangled themselves from each other, the sheets, and Itachi’s sheepskin blanket. The boat was hard to keep warm at night, but they had managed with their bodies. Already, they could hear the sounds of the others moving around beyond the door: dishes clanking, whispers being shared, and the sharp edge of anxiety in their voices. 

They ate quickly in the living area, with Naruto, Hinata, and Sasuke squished shoulder-to-shoulder on the small futon. Itachi went outside to smoke a cigarette and “enjoy the morning,” while Sakura stood with her back against the cool window. It was relatively silent: Itachi had prepared a basic breakfast for them, rice and miso soup. A little bit of bread. Some tea. Hinata sipped slowly out of these giant ceramic mugs he kept hanging on hooks above his sink; hers was a vibrant red. 

“So you both fled to Iwa?” Sasuke was saying to Sakura and Naruto, some end to a conversation Hinata had not been a part of. It relieved her that he would speak so freely to his friends in front of her. His trust in her was cemented. 

“Yes,” Sakura nodded tightly as she carefully drank from her cup. She had coffee from a green mug that matched her eyes. “We were on our way to the islands and stopped there for a day to figure out our paperwork. The next stop was going to be The Philippines.”

“Then Hinata found us,” Naruto bumped his shoulder into hers. “Well––Sakura. Followed her like a spy.”

Sasuke looked at her with an eyebrow raised and she turned red despite herself. Sakura scoffed a little at the show of affection. Hinata could understand why she would react this way; Hinata was the intruder, after all. 

“Well...Sakura knocked me out for it,” Hinata amended the tale. “But I...I–– when I saw Sakura walking down the street I couldn’t believe it. It felt like dumb luck, you know,” she looked at Sasuke, taking him in, the way he sat, the way he carefully held his bowl of rice in his lap, the way he looked at her. “I needed to know if you were ok, and...I thought maybe Sakura would know.”

Everyone was silent for a few minutes as they spooned food into their mouths. Outside, the sky went indigo, changing to meet the sun slowly. 

“So, thank you for that,” Hinata said earnestly to Sakura, who had uncrossed her arms to set her mug down. Sakura paused, halfway lifted from the coffee table to make eye contact with Hinata. “Seriously. You––you didn’t have to, Sakura. Thank you.”

Sakura straightened, looking surprised. She opened her mouth to respond when the door opened. 

“They’re here,” Itachi said. 

-

Though no one knew exactly who the Akatsuki were, or how many members there were, Hinata knew that the two people in front of her made up only a small fraction of the group in its totality. 

They did not go inside of Itachi’s houseboat to meet, instead, they stood out in the open in the snow. The sun was sneaking over the waterline, shooting its beams across the Earth. The snow sparkled and it made her eyes hurt. The two Akatsuki members didn’t seem to mind the cold or the light, and they barely blinked at the sight of unexpected company.

One of them had blue hair, swept up into a bun and an otherwise unremarkable face, while the other had orange hair and piercings up and down his face. They did not wear the robes that Hinata had heard rumors about; instead, they were in plain clothes: puffy jackets, dark pants, and snow boots. 

Itachi smiled calmly and welcomed them with open arms, “Pein, Konan, always a pleasure.”

“Hello Itachi,” Konan said. She looked at the ragtag group with humor, “And guests?”

“A Hyuga ?” Pein said, his voice hoarse. “On our land––now that is interesting. Please, Itachi, what is the meaning of this?”

Sasuke stood close to Hinata, his body half shielding hers, but there was no reason: she had already been seen. She knew what the situation was going to be before she had even gotten there. Still, she fought the urge to touch him. There didn’t need to be any more attention on the two of them than there already was. 

Konan stepped toward Hinata and Sasuke grabbed Hinata’s arm, pulling her further away. Konan smiled, stepping closer nonetheless, and peered into Hinata’s face. Upon further inspection, Konan had orange eyes that shined against the sunrise. “Hm,” she said, then stepped back again. She didn’t say anything else about her. Instead, she gestured toward Sakura and Naruto. “And who are they?”

They both looked at Itachi for an explanation. 

“It is a long story,” Itachi said. “But one I think you may enjoy. These are rouge ANBU agents, and you know, my brother Sasuke. He was outed by his own organization in the middle of an undercover mission with the Hyugas while those two,” he gestured towards Naruto and Sakura, “Were working to figure out ANBU’s ulterior motive. Meanwhile, Sasuke was falling in love, it seems.”

“So the Hyuga,” Pein said, squinting. “Came looking for him. Found him here.”

Itachi nodded, “She is banished, but wants to go back.”

Hinata stiffened. She did not know how he knew that. 

Pein smiled, and it made small lines appear against the curves of his eyes, “And how will she go back, if she has crossed the treaty line? She must know that there is a price for those things, especially after what happened to one of our clubs.”

“May Deidara rest in peace,” Itachi said, a smile in his voice. 

Wind blew through the space between them and the Akatsuki members. Hinata felt her stomach turn––she had forgotten about that, and yet–– “It was––it w-was simply retribution. Your Hidan killed one of o-ours first,” she said.

Konan and Pein passed a look. “That is true,” Pein said, sounding thoughtful. “But that does not change the fact that these are on Akatsuki lands.”

Hinata had to be brave if she was going to get what she wanted. She broke away from Sasuke, and though he protested silently––their eyes meeting for a long, terse moment––he let her go. She took five well-intentioned steps until she was standing in front of Pein and Konan. She watched Konan’s orange-brown eyes as she looked her up and down. She saw the way Pein squinted, his eyes filled with humor. She felt the dragon’s head at her abdomen, felt the strength of it fill her belly, and she exchanged its wisdom for fire. When she spoke, it was level, without stuttering. She knew what she wanted, and she knew what she had to give.

“What I have to offer you is worth more than my own life,” she said. She could feel Sasuke’s eyes on her back. She could feel that he was angry with her for saying this, but it was true. “And so I cannot give it to you for that. If you must kill me, then I cannot stop you.”

No one said anything, though Hinata knew that Sasuke drew closer. His energy was electric. She could not look at him, for fear that she would let her strong face fall. But then, he was standing beside her, and she could not help but see. His gaze was fierce: hard. His gaze said let them try.

This gave her the confidence to continue. She cleared her throat. Pein and Konan were expressionless, though their energy was dangerous. Pein inclined his head. Continue. 

“Instead of taking my life, you will help me,” Hinata said, her words feeling as if they were coming from some other, greater being. “You will help me, and the Hyugas. Together, we will defeat the head of ANBU, using the reconnaissance gathered by these former agents, and we will eradicate the Suna because they are working together. Doing this would be nothing short of beneficial to your cause.”

There was a long silence. Pein and Konan exchanged surprised looks. Itachi said nothing, just smiled. Even Naruto and Sakura wore twin expressions of surprise. 

“Why would we do this?”

“The question isn’t why ,” Sasuke said, catching on to Hinata’s game. He felt the sturdiness of her body beside him, and he beamed with pride. “You want ANBU gone as much as anyone else. The question is for what? ”

Hinata smiled then. She reached into her shirt, her fingers dipping seamlessly inside her bra, and pulled out the Byakugan File. How easily they could have taken it from her––any of them––and yet, they did not. 

It would not have mattered. She was one of three with the password. 

She watched Pein’s eyes widen at the sight of it. Itachi nodded to him, then gestured towards the boat. “Come,” he said. “There is much to be discussed.”

-:-

That night, after Pein and Konan left to prepare, and after Itachi took Sakura and Naruto to town for dinner, Hinata unwrapped the knife Itachi had left on the counter. 

It was wrapped in red cloth, with red and white colored fans printed on it. The knife itself was perfect, sharp, and pristine. It glinted against the dull light of the boat. “It was our father’s knife,” Itachi said quietly before he took his leave. “Sasuke, it is yours now, especially after what you are about to do.”

Sasuke bowed low to his brother, and Hinata looked away out of respect for the intimate moment. The brothers hugged and then Itachi was out the door, meeting Sakura and Naruto in the car. 

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Hinata asked, looking at him. His face was so beautiful. His eyes were full and dark, his hair like a darkened sky, dusting over his forehead, his nose so straight, and his mouth so full and serious. Always so serious. “With your father’s knife at that. If it’s too much I understand––”

“No, Hinata,” Sasuke said quietly. “I knew what I was getting myself into when I fell in love with you, and I know what I’m getting myself into now. Using my father’s knife only means that I am making the choice for myself. I want to help you. I want to help Hanabi.”

“Okay,” she whispered. “Okay. Okay. Okay.”

Together, they quietly prepared the area. Itachi had suggested they use the coffee table––he would get another one––and go out into the snow. They carried it outside and set it there, then they placed the knife and the cloth on top of it. They took a beat to look at each other, breathing and watching the breath gather in the air between them.

“My hair first,” Hinata said. She turned around and extended her ponytail to him. He held it gingerly in his palms. It was so soft. 

“Your hair?” He said. “What for?”

“It’s for you,” she said. “An additional cost. You aren’t family so one offering won’t be enough. We Hyugas pride ourselves on our hair, you know. Having short hair is like a strike against you. I-I will wear mine like a badge of honor, but The Family will know what I’ve done.”

“I’m sure you’ll go down in history books one way or another,” Sasuke said humorlessly. Without pause, he took the knife and swiped it through the top of her ponytail, watching the indigo strands fall into the snow. He gripped what he could, and handed it to her. “Thank you, Hinata.”

“You are welcome, my...my love,” Hinata said, cheeks warming in a way that was almost inappropriate given the situation. “Thank you, for sticking by my side.”

She put the hair in the bag and put it aside. Her head felt lighter. She felt like she had just cut off a decade’s worth of trauma. She probably had. Lightly, she ran her fingers through it. She’d have to fix the cut before they left, or else she’d look like a fool in front of her family.  “Who goes first?”

“Me,” Sasuke said. “So you can’t back out.”

“It’s hardly the time for jokes,” Hinata said, though she let bits of humor slip in. 

“Who’s joking? This only works if you do it, I’m just collateral,” Sasuke muttered. This was true, but the argument was fake, if not a waste of time. They were both stalling. “Come on, Hinata, before I chicken out.”

“Never thought I’d hear you say that.”

“Yeah, and you’ll be the only person to hear me say it.”

They both kneeled in the snow in front of the coffee table. Hinata gently took away the cloth and folded it. She laid a towel down––not that it would help much. Then, she handed Sasuke a cloth. “For your scream,” she said. 

“You think I’m going to scream?”

“Oh yes,” she said seriously. 

“Can you do it for me?”

“No,” Hinata said. “The point is, you do it to yourself. That’s the only way. They will know if you don’t.”

“Okay,” Sasuke said. He squared his shoulders and laid his left palm flat on the table, with his dominant hand, he grasped the knife. “Wait––”

Hinata nodded and placed the gag into his mouth. She did not allow herself to look away when Sasuke raised the knife and slid it clean through the top half of his pinky finger. The sound was sickening. Sasuke’s face went red, his eyes bulged, and he made sounds into the gag. But soon, it was over. Hinata wrapped his hand in the towel she had laid on the table. Then, she scooped up the finger with the reddened snow and placed it into a wooden box––something Itachi had also given them. 

“ Fuck ,” Sasuke said when Hinata gingerly removed the gag. “Fuck. That hurt. Fucking hell.”

Hinata said nothing. By now the humor was gone. She was white as the snow as she placed a new towel onto the table, after wiping away the blood. At least her hair wouldn’t be in her face. She looked Sasuke in the eye as he placed the gag into her mouth, and she felt her mouth open around it. It reminded her of being in Orochimaru’s van, but for once, the memory didn’t make her shudder. 

She laid her left hand flat. Sasuke placed the knife into her palm. 

“You ready?” He asked.

Hinata nodded. She bit down on the cloth in her mouth as she raised the knife and brought it down on her own hand. Hard. The knife made a dull sound as it hit the hardwood table underneath. The shock was quick, and the pain eruptive. Hinata hadn’t even realized she was screaming until Sasuke was caressing her face. 

“It’ll get better, give it a second,” he soothed. He was brushing her bangs. Her eyes welled with tears at the pain of it. “Give it a second, my love.”

He wrapped her hand in the towel like she had done for him and brought it close to her chest. He then located the part of her finger she had cut off and covered it in snow. He put it in its own box. 

“You did great,” he said. He held her for a second as Hinata sat in shocked silence. She had given away her family’s prized possession, the Byakugan File, and she had decapitated herself and her lover. 

And she did not regret a single thing. 

Tomorrow, she and Sasuke would present their hands to her father and beg for forgiveness. She could only pray that he would accept their pricey repentances.  

Chapter Text

The car rocked unsteadily down the road. Everyone was nervous, and Sakura was driving, thought she was the only one who had never been to the Estate before. 

“What’s about that park?” Naruto asked Hinata. On the ride up, he had started asking her questions about places near the Estate. “Like a game,” he had said, but she didn’t know who for. It wasn’t fun. But everyone dealt with their anxieties in their own ways, and it was nice to talk about something that was not what was about to happen. 

The low thrums of a bass played through the car speakers, curling around their stiff-scared bodies. Some radio station Sakura had jabbed on. Hinata’s hand throbbed when she answered, “I went there as a child before I was k-kidnapped. After, I wasn’t allowed.”

She was proud of herself for not wincing when she thought of it. At this point, she’d probably gone through worse. She leaned her body onto Sasuke’s sure one, feeling his warmth, and wanting to be folded into him. Ten miles to go, she thought, looking out the window at the trees, stores, and houses that raced by. She wanted to tell Sakura to slow down. She was going far too fast.

“Ever been to that izakaya over there?” Naruto pressed his finger to the window. Hinata looked over Sasuke’s shoulder, and he rested his chin on the top of her head. They stayed that way for a few long moments. 

The Izakaya was on a block with several businesses, but it had its doors shuttered, unlike the others. Hinata scoffed, “No, no. It’s closed now. Closed before I was old enough to go, but my mom used to spend almost every night there, towards the end of her life.”

It was a negative note to end off on, but Hinata had no responsibilities to their feelings at this point. As a young teenager, Hinata had followed her mother to the izakaya, and watched her sit with Hizashi over drinks. It was disappointing that they would do such things so close to home, but they had gotten wreckless. 

“Oh,” Naruto said, then hummed a little line of the song that was playing on the radio. Sakura continued forward. Sasuke tightened his arms around her. She could feel his heart beating. 

Five miles to go, she thought, tracing the buildings with her eyes until they all fell away and were replaced by acres of land. Parks, grass, and small lakes covered these last few stretches of miles until they would reach the private estate of the Hyugas. 

“What about that lake?” Naruto asked between the start and end of a song. 

Hinata looked over, Sasuke’s chin rubbing her skull gently. Her hand throbbed. “Oh,” she said when she laid eyes on the pier where she once sat with Gaara, when they were young and she was not able to leave the boundaries of Konoha without being discovered. “Yes, I w-would meet Gaara there sometimes. We’d go mushroom hunting so that nobody would find us.”

The thought of Gaara sent a thrill of anxiety through her, and Sasuke squeezed her, though she wasn’t really thinking about Gaara or anxious about him at all. She was worried about Sasuke. She worried about what would happen when her family saw him if they would give him a chance to speak or––

“Calm down,” his mouth at her ear. He could feel her breathing. His hands were on her shoulders. “It’s going to be okay, Hinata.”

“I shouldn’t have let you come,” she whispered back as if worried Sakura and Naruto would hear––though they surely could. They were trained listeners. And yet, she did not feel bad for her selfishness. She couldn’t afford to. “I shouldn’t have. This was a mistake. We need to––”

Two miles to go.

More trees. All going quickly passed the window. They would be coming up on cameras soon. A shiver went up her spine. Home never felt so wrong.

“Of course, I’m here with you, Hinata. We’re a team,” Sasuke said. He enterlaced their fingers.

“Yeah, but––”

Sasuke shook his head. He removed his chin and made her sit up so that they were facing each other. Eye-to-eye, Sasuke said gently, “Be wise, Hinata. I have to be there. If I don’t go with you and only show up when it’s safe, they won’t trust me.”

He was stern but honest. His eyes were hard, stubborn, but kind. “I can’t have them thinking I’m a coward. I’m not. Besides, you know what my priority is.”

“And what is that?” Hinata asked, eyes on him for once, and not on the speeding terrain, the familiar territory, the green in the sky. 

“It’s you,” Sasuke said. They interlaced fingers with their unwounded hands, holding tight. “It’s been you for a while. Let me be there for you, Hinata.”

“I l––”

“––guys!” Sakura shouted suddenly, cutting through their quiet speech. They were hit. The car lurched forward and then swerved dangerously off the road, a squealing sound piercing the air. 

Behind them, a black SUV appeared and it went forward, without stopping until it plowed into the back of their car. Hinata remembered opening her mouth, widening her eyes, and grabbing onto Sasuke, before everything went dark. 

-:-

Hinata woke up panting with severe back pain. She was laying on a bed in a room she recognized. She was in the theatre. She was sweating, terrified, but otherwise unharmed. 

She was alone.

Neji was standing at the other side of the room, looking at her. He wore no expression. His clothing was dark, neat––unbothered. He looked unbothered. It sent her into a strange rage, seeing him that way, standing as if nothing was happening. 

“Neji!” She yelled as she got up, climbing upwards with all her limps––her knees on top of the mattress, then her feet on the ground, then her arms pushing off from her knees, righting her body, ignoring the pain, bolting off the bed like she has just lost her balance. “Neji!” She said again. 

Neji did not move. He just looked at her. He looked disgusted. It felt like a dream. 

“Neji––where is he?”

Neji’s eyebrow twitched in annoyance, “Hinata––hush! Haven’t you learned your lesson already?”

Hinata jumped back, suddenly frightened. Her calves hit the bedframe and she fell back onto the mattress. Neji’s fists tightened at his waist. 

“Haven't you learned from your stupid mother?” he continued.  “My disgrace of a father? Some things are just not worth it.”

Hinata shook her head, “That’s not-–that’s not what this is about, Neji. You have to listen. Where is––” she looked around frantically as if this room in the Theatre would give her an answer. “Where is Hanabi? Is she gone? Am I too late?”

Neji shook his head. “It is no longer your business, Hinata. You might have had a chance––you might have if you didn’t bring him. What the fuck were you thinking?!”

He seemed genuinely disappointed, strangely sad, and distant all the same. “I love you, Hinata, I love you like a sibling, but I already vouched for you once. Why would you come here?”

“Because Hanabi––”

“Enough about Hanabi!” Neji shouted, startling her again. His anger was real. He was wounded. Distressed. “She is doing her duty! What you should have been doing! You know she’s too young––”

Hinata shook her head. This was going nowhere. She needed to be in control of this situation. She felt hysterical, she could not stop thinking about Sasuke, Hanabi, Sasuke, Hanabi and yet, Neji was here. Not listening to her. What could she do to get him to listen? What could she say to assure Hanabi and Sasuke’s safety? Her heart thundered against her ribs. 

Quickly, she unwrapped her bandaged hand. It was felt, bulging, and swollen where the missing digit used to be. She thrust it towards Neji, whose horror was so severe that he stumbled back, repulsed. 

“I have taken the knife to myself to prove my loyalty to this family. I have reason to believe that we––and more importantly––Hanabi are in danger from forces bigger than us. You need to let me speak to Father as soon as possible. You may outrank me, Neji, but you are not his child.”

Neji stared at her. Stared at her hand. Looked into her face.

“Take me to him.”

-:-

He dreamed of Mikoto brushing his bangs from his eyes. They sat at the outdoor dining table. She was shucking peas. His father was teaching him how to scratch yen. Sun streamed through the trees. It was quickly becoming night. 

“Your turn, son,” Fugaku said. He was handing Sasuke a knife. 

Sasuke raised his right hand to grab it, and a bleeding gaudy thing rose to the table, purpled and yellowed around where half of his pinky should be. Mikoto jumped back from the horror, and Fugaku frowned. 

“Ah,” Fugaku said. “You’ve learned what loyalty is.”

“My boy, you’re so young,” Mikoto said. She was crying. She brushed his bangs once more. “We love you so much.”

“Yes,” Fugaku agreed. He put the knife down on the table and raised his hand. He put his pointed finger on Sasuke’s forehead––rested it there for a while, and then: “Now wake up.”

Sasuke woke up violently, vomiting blood. A kick hit him in the stomach. He doubled over, body falling out a chair he hadn’t known he was sitting in. He landed on his side, gasping for hair. He convulsed in pain. His head hurt––his entire body ached with something severe.

“Get up,” a Hyuga he had never seen before was growling. “You’re some sick fuck, showing up here. Entitled pig. You must be one of those freaky masochists, showing up here. Your death won’t be an easy one, Uchihah bastard.”

Sasuke gasped for breath, clawing at the ground through his fingertips. He could barely concentrate. In flashes, he thought of Hinata: how her hair caught light, the curious look on her face before she burst into laughter, the dimples that appeared on her cheeks when she was experiencing joy. Would he get to see her again?  He coughed, his vision was blurry. How long had he been there? How long had this gone on? He climbed onto his feet unsteadily, and then fell back down, his center for balance off. 

The Hyuga advanced, holding his arm up as if about to deliver a final, devasting blow––and then the door opened. Light poured in. Hinata came running into the room, pushing the man aside. The man let out a sound of confusion, but Hinata ignored him, charging forward. 

Behind her, Hiashi and Neji stood in the doorway, watching. Hinata dropped to her knees and pulled Sasuke’s broken body into her lap, his head on her thighs. He stared up at her, eyes foggy. She looked beautiful as big tears rolled off her chin and onto his cheek. So beautiful. 

He felt her pull his arm up, and she unwrapped the bandage from around his hand. Proudly––hurriedly––she extended his hand, showing the missing finger, pushing it towards them as if saying look! look! It’s here! look!

Sasuke hoped it would be enough. It had to be enough. 

He closed his eyes and enjoyed the warmth of her lap, how good her body felt, how nice it was to be at her side. 

He had been doomed from the start.

Chapter Text

“Broken nose, that’s all. Some bruises and cuts. He’ll be fine in the morning,” Neji said.

The door slammed shut as they exited the room. He watched Hinata look around: down the long cream-colored hallways, at the dark polished hardwood under her feet, at the family portraits that hung along the walls. The curved stairway to their left led to the foyer at the entrance which split into two rooms, the living room with the attached study, and the sitting room. The powder room was to the left of the sitting room. If she were to walk down the hall in the opposite direction, she would find the back stairway that led to the main kitchen. She could hear the voices from there: Kiba and Ino and the clanging of pots and pans. The smell of vanilla rose up the stairs as if spying on them; the scents of an upcoming Affair. 

To their left was Hanabi’s door, which was ajar. She was sitting on her bed, watching Hinata and Neji through the crack though Neji pretended not to see her. Tonight, after the Affair, Gaara would pick her up and take her somewhere. Neji did not know what would happen next. There had not been time to talk about it. 

“We do not have time until morning,” Hinata said starkly, in a strained sort of way. Her voice scratched at the back of her throat, and no matter how many times she cleared it, it remained the same. 

“You don’t know how long we have, Hinata. You haven’t been here,” Neji said. His voice, too, was strained––but different. He didn’t know how to talk to her anymore, not after the car crash, not after seeing her mutilated hand, not after looking into her face and realizing what this family has done to her. Maybe when he looked at her, he saw a reflection of himself, and maybe in that reflection he saw his father: how Hizashi struggled under the rules and the violence. How an affair with his twin’s wife was the only joy he could manage. How even that was taken away. And anyway, part of this was Hizashi’s fault, right? Good riddance. Neji was glad he died. 

The thoughts were fast and true––what was worse, they hurt. And worse than that? They explained away this chasm between him and Hinata, who leaned against her bedroom door with great tiredness in her voice and feet, the bags under her eyes dark storm clouds, so large and angry. Behind the door rested her lover, who easily could have been beaten within an inch of his life, but of course, she saved him. That was what she was here to do, to save them all. 

Allegedly.

It seemed like a joke, but it wasn’t. Everything was ruined now: Tonight was the night Hanabi was to take Hinata’s place, to join the Suna at the Boy’s Club meeting, to secure their alliance, their guns, their money, their drugs. Tonight was supposed to lead them into a new decade, a new establishment of power, and now––disgraced, traitorous––Hinata has come to tell them that it was all a lie? 

Well, what was he supposed to believe? And yet, when he looked down at her mangled hand the nausea was simultaneously constant and new. She’d gone through lengths to get here. She turned and looked him in the eye, her gaze old somehow, and said, “You don’t t-trust me.”

Neji said nothing. His phone buzzed in his back pocket. Tenten would be looking for him. The smell of chocolate and fruit wafted up the stairs. 

“How could I, Hinata? After everything?”

She looked down at her hand again, smiling dryly. Then she looked at him, her teeth flashing like a lightening crack in the day time, “And do you trust Gaara more than me?”

Neji hadn’t been expecting such a question. He heard Hanabi shift in her bed, pretending not to listen. Something thrummed in his chest, like the chord of a guitar being struck in the quiet of the night. The thrumming turned to anger. Heat filled his throat. His phone vibrated again. 

“I don’t think we need to talk again until the Affair,” he said. This was reasonable. What else was there to discuss between them? He’d given her a chance, after all, to come home. To not leave. She didn’t take it. She hadn’t wanted it. 

“Okay, niisan,” she said, speaking gently, talking low. The familiarity with which she spoke made him bristle, the anger peaking over both of their heads, making everything red. “We’ll talk later.”

She went into her room, where Sasuke slept, and closed the door behind her so silently that it scared him. Behind him, a door squeaked open and he jumped in surprise. Hanabi peaked her head out––she and Hinata hadn’t spoken yet, she had been forbidden by their father. 

“Go back in your room, Hanabi,” Neji whispered gently, like he was trying to convince a baby to sleep. “You shouldn’t have been listening. I’m surprised Hiashi-sama even let your sister come up here.”

Hanabi rolled her eyes and gestured Neji into the room. When he finally crossed the threshold, she shut the door with a slam, lurching her arm back like she was going to hit him, but slapped the door instead. “Don’t talk to me like I’m a fucking child, Neji.”

He wanted to tell her that she is a child. He refrained. 

“I can’t believe you just spoke to Hinata like that,” Hanabi collapsed onto her bed, her weight sinking into it. On the vanity across the room, her dress for the evening was laid across the chair. It was a modest black thing, with long sleeves and an open back. Wholly inappropriate for her age. 

“Why aren’t you angry with her? It’s because of her you have to do this,” he gestured towards the dress with disgust. All of the makeup brushes on the vanity held childish shades of pink. Someone had placed red lipstick on top of the pallets. 

“It’s not because of her. It’s because of the syndicate, stupid,” Hanabi huffed and threw herself under the covers in one big movement, burrowing down like a bird in a nest. “You’re all so fucking dumb. You don’t know anything. If I were her, I wouldn’t have even come back!”

Neji sat heavily on the edge of Hanabi’s bed. He thought of his car crashing into Hinata’s, how the impact made a sound. How he grabbed her body and put her into his car. How he gently laid her unconscious body down in the Theater, anger and guilt raising their twin fists inside of him. How when she woke, he had never seen fear like that on her face. And yet, and yet, and yet…

She had still left the Family. She left for a man. How stupid could she be?

In a quiet voice, deep within the fluffy duvet, Hanabi said, “he…he used to hit her, you know?”

Neji’s hands clenched. His head pounded. “The Uchiha?”

“No,” Hanabi said. There was silence for a long moment. “Gaara. They…they had dated and she kept it a secret. I used to go through her phone because that’s what you do when your older sister suddenly starts acting all grown up and secret. 

She…she never told anyone but I knew. And when I got scared and she let me sleep with her at night, I would see the bruises on her body. I asked about them once, but she just told me they were nothing. But one day, when they weren’t being careful, I saw him pick her up from school and I watched him yank her into his car and everything made sense. I was a kid but I knew. I knew to keep my mouth shut too,” Hanabi said. 

Taken aback by this new information, Neji stood. He walked back a few paces. His stomach swam with regret––for what? He didn’t know. “Why wouldn’t she say anything to us?”

Hanabi raised her head from the duvet, looking at Neji like he was stupid. “Why do you think?”

-:-

“You’re up,” Hinata said, when she entered her bedroom––it felt big, and new, and not hers at all––and saw Sasuke sitting up, rubbing his bandaged head. Bruises covered him everywhere. She came to him at once, crawling on top of the bed and reaching for him. She moved hair out of his face. His eyes were cloudy, unfocused. 

“Barely,” he said quietly, blinking slow. He gestured vaguely and Hinata placed a glass of water into his hands. He cupped it and drank quickly, his Adam's apple bobbing, his neck red and bruised. “I’ll be fine,” he said when he was finished drinking, but his voice was still scratchy with effort. He cleared it. “I’ll be fine to move out tonight or tomorrow-––whenever.”

“Hmph,” Hinata hummed, thinking, for a moment, that she was starting to sound like him. She watched his heavy movements, pressed a hand to his forehead. “I don’t know if––”

“Don’t start.”

Hinata sighed. He would not change his mind. He would not let her go alone. She was in no position to argue so she just leaned her head back onto the crook of his shoulder and neck, letting it lull there. He turned his head, his cheek pressing against her forehead. It was cold. 

“You’re cold,” she said. 

“You’re hot,” he responded. The flesh of his cheek felt soft. She could feel it expand and contract when he spoke. “I’m assuming the conversation with Neji did not go well?”

Hinata sighed again: “he hates me.”

“It’s understandable,” Sasuke said, grinning. 

“Do we kill him?” Hinata asked, suddenly, her eyes wide, unblinking as she stared into the darkness of her bedroom. It was afternoon, but the curtains were still drawn. Her stomach knotted. 

Sasuke blinked quickly in succession, startled. “Who? Neji?”

Hinata seemed to snap out of it, turning her head so that his own head moved in response. She got up. “No! No, sorry. I meant Gaara.”

“I’d like to kill him, personally,” Sasuke said, and he too, started to get up. He needed to move if he was going to be ready for the evening. As he did slow calf raises and knee lifts, he thought about how sexy it was to hear Hinata talk about them killing in unison. He was grateful for their partnership––that was to say the least––and that she trusted him so much to say something so crassly. 

They were silent for a while. Hinata was pacing back and forth around the room, biting the tip of her thumb in concentration, and Sasuke was doing basic exercises, testing his strengths and weaknesses from his recent beatings. He needed to know where he was weak and what movements he should avoid. As he rose up for this thirtieth push up, a thought occurred to him. “Are Sakura and Naruto safe?”

Hinata nodded without stopping her movements around the room. “Of course. They’re down the hall, I spoke to them before I talked to Neji.”

“Good,” Sasuke said. He pushed himself into a plank, then pivoted into a lunge. Then, he stood, grabbed his pacing lover around the waist, and dragged her towards her bed. She didn’t resist, she let him. “When is the Affair, again?”

Hinata felt his mouth nestle into the soft place between her neck and collar bone. She breathed deeply, trying to focus. “At seven tonight.”

“How long do we have?” He hadn’t looked at a watch. He had no idea where his phone was. 

“About four hours,” Hinata said as he pulled her into his lap, his mouth already moving across her skin. Lucious, beautiful kisses––and just distracting enough. Her hands easily slid to his hair as she felt his body under hers. 

“C’mon,” he said, playing with the edges of her shirt, the soft skin of her belly, the delicate curls just under. “Let’s relax.”

“Okay,” Hinata agreed, nodding. Sasuke was warm now, and so was she. She didn’t know how the night would go. She didn’t know when they’d get to do this again. “Let’s relax.”

-:-

“Remember when you first got here?” Hinata asked after they woke up again, a couple of hours later, with the sun long gone, far away from its perch above their heads. She traced a freckle on his chest, just under the collar bone. It was brown and round like a Hershey’s Kiss. “How strange it was? How you came into the garden and saved me.”

With her head on his chest, Sasuke’s face was full of hair, but he didn’t mind. “I do,” he said. “And look at us now, you’re the one doing all the saving. I underestimated you, Hyuga.”

“Most people do,” she said, but she said it like she had just won a prize, and Sasuke knew that she was grinning under all of that hair. “That’s the point.”

A phone began to buzz incessantly on the right edge of Hinata’s bed-side table. The light of it was dim, just making apparent some lines in the ceiling, as it carried on its buzzing––telling them that it was time to get up. The Affair would begin in 30 minutes and they weren’t yet dressed. 

“Are you ready?” Sasuke asked, tugging this big wild hair that she had only really begun to show him recently. Usually, she kept it contained when they slept: braided flat to her head, or wrapped in a scarf, or––if she was especially tired––a bun would do. But now she slept with it loose: sprawling across their pillows, dipping below their waists, twisting around everything. 

“No,” Hinata said, but she slipped out of bed anyway, leaving the warm gift of Sasuke’s skin. Sasuke got up after her, and they got dressed in the quiet dark of her room. 

Hinata picked an outfit easily: a floor-length black satin dress with pearls sewn into the bottom like tear drops. It had no sleeves and a turtle-neck collar, but dropped dramatically in the back, showing off the woman with the knife between her teeth. Of course, the woman. Of course the dragon’s tail.

She put on ruby teardrop earrings to match the bottom of her dress. The red was perhaps too much, but she didn’t care. Sasuke came behind her and lifted her hair from her neck. “You should wear it up,” he said. “So that they can see.”

She nodded, took a ribbon, and looped it around where his hands lifted the hair. Once she finished tying it off, she looked at him. “Good?”

“Perfect.” He said. 

Sasuke’s dress was more casual––he hadn’t come prepared. Kiba had been nice enough––or had been ordered to––drop off a few dress shirts, pants, and shoe options. The Hyuga’s were nothing if not respectable. They required that of their Family. Earlier in the day, Hinata had done the same for Sakura, dropping off a few of her dresses for her to choose from. She had been met with a confused, if not agitated, stare from the pink-haired woman, but she accepted it all the same. 

He donned a simple black shirt that was only a little big on him, and sharp slacks that were secured with a belt. He made a joke about how Kiba had never bothered to dress this well at the Affairs, though he clearly had the clothes to do it. 

When Hinata didn’t comment, or even laugh, he saw that her fists had tightened at her waist, anxiety making a wrinkle appear between her eyebrows. He grabbed her hand, loosened her fingers. Squeezed. 

It was time.

-:-

Hinata had not seen her father since she showed him her hand. The memory was blurry, despite it being recent: did he look displeased? Was he angry? Was he disgusted? And when she crawled over to Sasuke, sobbing, yelling––what then?

He gestured towards the man who had been hurting Sasuke, and the man left the room. He looked down at them, at their fingers, giving nothing away.

“Neji,” he had said, but his eyes were on his daughter. “Arrange an Affair for this evening and then wake Hanabi, bring her to me. I will have someone escort Hinata and the Uchiha to her room.”

He gave nothing away then, and he was giving nothing away now. Sitting in his big seat, watching everyone pile pastries onto their plates, he did not look at Hinata as she entered with Sasuke, Naruto, and Sakura in tow. Naruto, who looked strange and flush being there again, was only getting half as many stares as Hinata was. No one even looked at Sakura, who had smartly dressed in a plain gray dress that did not draw any more attention to herself than she already had. A shame about the hair. 

But Hinata could only give her father only a moment’s worth of attention––there was something far more startling in the room. Hanabi. She was sitting in the spot where Hinata used to sit, beside their father, wearing a black high-neck dress, her hair piled on top of her head in small ringlets. Not that much time had passed and already Hinata’s younger sister had passed the gauntlet meant for her. It broke Hinata’s heart. 

 They made eye contact. Hinata felt her body jolt and Sasuke grabbed her arm to steady her. He gently pulled her to the ground, onto a cushion, near the front of the room. Naruto and Sakura took positions in the seats behind them, and they made a small square. 

Hinata was aware of the stares on her back as she continued to watch Hanabi, who looked back––unafraid. Something passed between them, then Hanabi inclined her head and stood up. She reached out her hand and Hinata rose to meet her as if compelled. 

“Welcome home,” Hanabi whispered and Hinata watched the beginning of tears gather on her lower lashes. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” Hinata said, pulling her younger sister into a hug. The room went silent, even the small noises of forks hitting plates were extinguished. Hanabi grabbed her arm hard, and alarmed Hinata looked down into her eyes: they wore twin expressions of a grief so big that Hinata was worried it would swallow them both. She stumbled back a little, taken aback. She whispered, “Have you––did you––Gaara…?”

It was barely a real question, and yet Hanabi understood and shook her head: no. “I haven’t been ordered to go yet. I thought tonight, but then you…”

Hinata had interrupted. They had probably postponed, if not for an entire day at least a couple of hours. And what did Suna know of Hinata’s little sabbatical? If they knew nothing, as they should, perhaps there was still a chance. Yes. There had to be. 

“Don’t worry,” Hinata said, feeling Hanabi’s hand loosen, watching the anxiety build in her little sister’s face. She never wanted to see her like that again. “Don’t worry. I’m here now.”

“Of course I’m worried,” Hanabi said tersely. So she did not understand, that is fine, Hinata mused. She does have to, not anymore. Hanabi, then, as if wanting to push her anxiety away, then reached for Hinata's hair, taking the short locks into her hands, wonder in her eyes. “You cut it.”

“I had to,” Hinata said, leaning her head back into her sister’s hand. She could still feel the Family starring, but it didn’t matter, Hanabi was safe. She would be safe. 

“She cut something else too,” Sasuke said, suddenly behind her so close that they shared heat. He looked politely at Hanabi, who smiled meekly back. The meekness was a strange, new thing, but Hanabi was a stranger to this room, after all. 

Hanabi’s eyes flew to Hinata’s hand, and her eye’s hardened like she had just confirmed something for herself. Hinata was sure that Hanabi had already heard the rumors. Hanabi squeezed her arm one more time, then let her go. “You look beautiful,” she said. 

Sasuke and Hinata found their way back to their seats at the front of the room when they heard the click of the lighter––Hiashi lighting his cigar to begin. Neji cracked the door open, letting in a gust of cold air. Hinata felt her back bristle with attention when someone sat beside her. She looked over her shoulder to see Ino and Shikamaru.

Ino’s face was strained in a way Hinata had never seen before, like she was trying to hold her words inside of her mouth. Shikamaru, though appearing bored, had a wrinkle between his eyebrows. He too, was containing something. Ino opened her mouth to say something, but she closed it immediately when something at the front of the room drew her attention. 

Hiashi stood, but still Hinata’s eyes went to Hanabi, whose back stiffened as she looked up at him. Hinata could feel her pride and her fear. Hinata could only feel anger. 

“Welcome, Family,” Hiashi called, as he always did. “May our days be blessed with fortune, and our nights be protected and virtuous.”

“God willing,” everyone, including Hinata and Sasuke, replied. Though this time, Hinata got chills down her shoulders, white furry crawling up her skin in ways she had never felt before. The longer she saw Hanabi sitting on that pedestal, looking like a paper doll in her black dress and manufactured curls, the more her anger built. Sasuke must have felt it because he looked at her out of the corner of his eye and stifled a sly grin. It was, perhaps, not the correct response, but it was, perhaps, the response Hinata needed. 

“I have called his emergency meeting under unusual circumstances,” Hiashi began, as he sat back down in his seat at the top of the pyramid, in front of the room. He wore black linens, like it was summer. It made everyone else look underdressed. Sometimes he did that on purpose to disarm people. He gestured to the front of the room, “as you can see, my daughter has returned. And she’s brought guests.”

If only you knew, Hinata thought. He would, soon enough.

No one made a sound, though she felt the apprehension in the room at her sudden appearance. Perhaps even more so, their shock that Uchiha Sasuke was back in their midsts, relatively unscathed. 

“Rest assured, she has paid massively for her escapades,” Hiashi said, and Hinata winced at the word like it had tried to bite her. “And she and Uchiha Sasuke have been welcomed back to the Family with welcome arms.”

The room was silent. 

Hiashi raised an eyebrow, “God willing,” he said, probing. 

“God willing,” the room rushed to respond. 

So, her father accepted her back. That was a relief, but that did not mean that things would go back to normal. He no longer trusted her. And he would use Hanabi in her place. A sour taste filled her mouth like she was about to vomit. She swallowed. She felt Sasuke shift beside her, the warmth of his arm enough to center her. She leaned forward so their shoulders touched briefly. He nodded minutely. 

“They come at an opportune moment for us,” Hiashi said to the quiet room, his eyes sliding over Hinata and Sasuke’s sitting positions, their twin dark hair, their opposing eyes, their pinkies touching on the tatami mats just briefly. “They will be on standby as dear Hanabi goes on her first mission. Hanabi will be joining Suna Gaara to a very important meeting this evening, which will solidify the Hyuga-Suna Treaty and help us win the invisible war against our enemies, and against the Akatsuki!”

Everyone cheered. Hinata watched Hanabi go inside of herself, the light in her eyes disappear, her arms covering her body, her feet tapping nervously. Hinata had to put a stop to this. She looked at Sasuke, looked at her own wrapped hand, and looked at the floor she was raised on. Then she stood, looked at the leader of the Hyuga Syndicate, the crime lord, the Yakuza boss, her very own father and said, “No. I will not stand for it.”

The applause stopped. Neji looked up, his mouth falling open in a way that was so unlike him that it even shocked Hinata. Hanabi looked up so fast everyone could hear the joint in her neck pop. Hiashi’s eyes went dark. He wavered, the lit end of his cigar like a beacon. 

“Excuse me, daughter?”

This was unheard of, she knew. But hey, it was her funeral.

“I said no,” Hinata repeated. “I will not allow you to send my baby sister to that man. I…” she faltered, halting at the stares she felt on her back, and at the twist she saw on her father’s mouth. Sasuke looked at her once, nodded again–– his eyes were so sure that she felt briefly unstoppable when their gazes connected. “I will go instead, as was planned. I know Gaara better. I was the original intended. And…”

Hiashi raised his eyebrow. He had wiped his face blank. Hinata could not even say what she thought he felt at that moment. 

“Suna Gaara cannot be trusted. I have reason to believe that he, in collaboration with former syndicate members of Orochimaru and the Konoha Special Agent Unit ANBU, are conspiring to double-cross us. They are on a mission to eradicate all of the original families from the Age of the Shinobi. They…” Hinata looked down at Sasuke, saw the fire in his eyes, and felt it too. “They were already successful––ANBU––at infiltrating Sasuke’s clan so many years ago. ANBU killed off the Uchihas, and they are going to kill us off too. It’s what Gaara wants.”

The silence was palpable, and Hinata kept going as if her life depended on it. “I know Gaara better than you think, Father,” she said, now sounding desperate since the expression on his face hadn’t changed. “I can prove that to you easily. But I have found allies for us, real ones, in the Akatsuki. S-Sasuke’s brother is one, and I––I have traded the Byakugan File f-for––”

Sasuke stood up suddenly, and that movement let her know that she had just made a terrible error. His arm went around her waist as she turned to stare at him in shock, but once she turned she saw that the entire room was staring at her with daggers for teeth. Hanabi was holding her throat and shaking her head. Neji went red. 

“Shut up!” Her father bared his teeth, the outburst so unlike him that Hinata jumped back into Sasuke. He walked down the platform and stood in front of her. He was so close she could see the line of tiny freckles across the bridge of his nose. He was yelling in her face and Hinata would’ve shrunk back, would’ve disappeared, if Sasuke hadn’t been bracing her, his hand around her waist, his breath near her ear. Steady, she heard him whisper.

“You are talking like a mad woman, Hinata,” Hiashi growled, veins popping on his forehead. He was furious. “You sound like your mother. You have endangered us all. I can’t believe I let this go so far.”

He put his arm out and Neji stood up.

Hinata watched with wide eyes, thinking: He is going to kill me, my father is going to kill me. I have made a terrible mistake.

Chapter Text

Everything slowed down when Neji drew a pistol from the waistband of his suit. 

Sasuke moved in front of her, shoving her behind his back before she could even get in a word of protest. Naruto and Sakura stood, flanking his sides––not protecting her, protecting him. Ino and Shikamaru leaned forward beside her, tense, eyes wide. Hanabi jumped up, tears already falling when she screamed: “Father no––”

Then, it was over. Hiashi looked down when the cold metal hit his outstretched hand. He looked at Neji in a way that was so unlike himself that everyone in the room froze.

“Are you crazy?!” Hiashi barked at Neji, the veins on his forehead popping out even more. Hiashi tossed the gun to the floor, looking more distressed than Hianata had ever seen him. Sasuke wavered in front of her, and Hinata placed a steadying hand on his shoulder, gently pushing him to the side. “I wanted my drink, Neji. Not that.”

If Hinata hadn’t been so convinced she was about to die then and there, she might have laughed. Sakura and Naruto looked at each other before backing up. Sasuke turned his head to gauge what Hinata was feeling and she nodded, rubbing his shoulders a little. That told him what he needed: he stepped away from his protective stance, running his hand through his hair. He had been stressed, too. 

Hiashi was looking at Neji in disbelief and Neji was red with embarrassment. Hanabi was still crying at the front of the room, holding her hands to her mouth. Hinata wanted to hug her. 

“This is ridiculous,” Hiashi said, looking like he wanted to curse. The Affair had been completely undone, all of the Aunties and Uncles were looking at each other in confusion and apprehension, and were speaking in low tones. Hiashi ignored them.

“All of you,” Hiashi said, gesturing to everyone in the front row; Hinata, Sasuke, Naruto, Sakura, Shikamaru, and Ino. “And you two,” he gestured to Neji and Hanabi. “And Shikaku. Please. In my office. Now. The Affair is adjourned. God willing.”

“God willing,” the dismissed Aunties and Uncles repeated, though their tones weren’t inspired. They all filed out of the room, not even bothering to take a pastry on their way out. 

Hiashi rubbed his head again, then he looked at Hinata with another look she had never seen before: tenderness. He placed his hand under her chin and looked her in the eyes, “I can’t believe your fear, my daughter. I can’t.”

Something passed between them. It was grief. 

-:-

The office was cramped with all of their bodies, but Hinata was seated front and center before Hiashi’s desk in the big leather chair. Hanabi stood next to her, holding her hand, and Sasuke stood behind her, not touching but she could feel him all the same. 

Her father sat in his chair, pouring himself a drink. Shikaku was to his right, and Neji awkwardly stood to his left. It wasn’t his fault he had misinterpreted, but no one had time to tell him that and so he would have to stew in his own guilt until there was a moment of peace. 

But it didn’t look like that was coming any time soon. 

“Tell me everything,” Hiashi demanded. He pointed his drink towards Sasuke, Naruto, and Sakura. “I want to hear it from the spies, first. Tell me everything you know. And quickly. We don’t have much time. ”

Sakura launched into story, sharing her piece––internal, plus her research––which Hinata had not heard much of. It helped shape Hinata’s perspective on this whole thing, and hopefully it would help shape her father’s as he heard more information. Next, Naruto spoke briefly about his role, and how the mole on the mission that had landed him in the hospital had been ANBU the whole time. 

“That’s when we started thinking that something was weird about ANBU,” Sakura said. “Sasuke and I argued with Ox––our supervisor––for hours about that move. It wasn’t supposed to happen, and we got no clarity afterwards.”

Sasuke nodded and Hinata watched Hiashi’s eyes go to him. Hiashi’s gaze was straightforward, not malicious, merely calculating. “Right, though I had been suspicious before that. I already thought that it was strange that they were sending me––a former Uchiha––back to the place came from: a crime syndicate. I’m the one who made the decision to give you all my true identity at the start. I knew that if this mission was successful, I would retire. And well, if it wasn’t…”

He would die. 

Hinata felt her body react to that statement. Sasuke put a hand on her shoulder. Hiashi watched this impassively. “Those are not the circumstances anymore,” Hiashi said, and it was kind. Hinata was touched by this kindness. 

“The Uchihas were our rivals in performance,” Hiashi said. “And power, but there was no hatred between us. We were branches of the same tree. Continue your story.”

Sasuke spoke the longest: He first told them about how for years he thought that the Hyuga had been the ones to annihilate the Uchiha, and how for so long his path was steeped in hatred and vengeance. Then he spoke about reuniting with his brother after the Akatsuki bust, and how that slowly started changing his perspective on the Uchiha Massacre. The more he started getting to know Hinata, the less confident about his theories and his allegiance to ANBU. 

“I had the chance to steal the Byakugan file once,” he admitted, looking up at Hiashi. “But––something didn’t seem right. I chose to wait…to listen. And I’m glad I did.”

“Hm,” Hiashi said. “I have no problem eliminating ANBU. That is sensical to me. But Suna…I’m afraid I’m not yet convinced.”

Hinata shifted in her seat. She could feel a few eyes on her, those who knew her story like Ino and Hanabi; and those who would protect her no matter what, mostly just Sasuke. Again she felt his steady energy behind her, how he was routed to the spot. How without touching, she could feel his support. So she cleared her throat and looked at her father and said, “I can talk about Gaara.”

He made no expression, but there was something keen swimming in his gaze. He inclined his head, go on, he seemed to say.

“When I was a teenager, Gaara and I dated in secrecy. We met at a concert, not knowing who each other really were. Our relationship lasted about two years. F-for a year, it was wonderful,” Hinata said, eyes focusing on a fleck of dust on the right-hand corner of her father’s desk. “Then Uncle Hiazhi killed Baki.”

It was like the air was sucked out of the room. She didn’t dare look at her father; she didn’t want to see what sort of expression he would be making at this new information. Instead, she looked behind him, at Shikaku and Neji. Neji’s eyebrows were drawn, and Shikaku looked sorrowful, as if he already knew how this story would end. Perhaps there was some guilt there too, as if he felt like he could’ve stopped it. 

“Gaara…Gaara turned violent towards me,” Hinata whispered. This time she did look up at her father, whose face had darkened considerably, his lips tugging down, he was almost showing teeth. Hinata looked away before she lost the nerve to continue. “I s-should’ve told someone, I know. B-but after Mother died I…I didn’t want to be a burden. We dated another year after that. It…it wasn’t fun. He used my k-kindness against me, he knew I wouldn’t say anything because he knew it would mean w-war between our families. I didn’t want that, we had lost so much already.”

“Hinata…” Hiashi said, his voice the same tender tone as before. It was hoarse, scratchy in the back of his throat. But Hinata could not look at him again. Not yet. 

“I broke up with him when things started getting really bad, when I knew I was no longer a person to him, just something to punish for taking his Uncle away. After that there was no contact. At least…not until the Affair last year, when Sasuke and Naruto joined.”

“And you let us set you up with him,” Shikaku finally broke the silence that followed Hinata’s speech, his voice taking a note of awe. “You didn't even protest.”

“The Family is very important to me,” Hinata whispered, her head down.”I thought––I didn’t know––”

“My suspicions of Gaara were my own,” Sasuke said, cutting in. He could sense that Hinata was getting overwhelmed, and that she felt some strange twisted guilt at Shikaku’s comment. He couldn’t let her get that far in that thought process. “I saw how he treated her after my first Affair, and then again when we had a mission together. It didn’t make sense to me. Then Sakura started digging and found a web of lies. For example, Suigetsu had led us to believe that perhaps the Akatsuki was behind his attack, but I have reason to believe it was Suna, setting a trap to lead us astray.”

“––I’m sorry,” Hinata broke in then, suddenly tears spilling down from the corners of her face. She hunched over, her shoulders trembling, making her body small in the leather chair. “I’m––I’m so sorry, father! This––t-this is all my fault, I should have told you the truth in the beginning. I s-should’ve told you about G-Gaara, and now H-Hanabi––”

Hiashi slowly rose from his seat, and the people around him parted like a sea. Ino and Hanabi were crying too, but they let Hiashi pass, Hanabi letting go of her sister’s hand to stand next to Neji.

 Even Sasuke backed up, though not far, to let Hiashi go to his daughter––even if he wanted to be the one to comfort her, he knew it wasn’t his place. It hurt him to see her like this, making herself small, putting herself through such pain, blaming herself for something that would never be her fault.

Hiashi did something no one was expecting, he kneeled down. He dropped to his knees in front of Hinata, onto the tatami mats, and took her hand. He tucked her loose hair behind her ears and wiped her tears with his palms. “My daughter,” he said tenderly. “The mistakes of a man could never be your fault. You did what you thought was best to protect us, and that is the most honorable thing one can do. You mustn’t blame yourself for the sins of the vile. You should celebrate yourself for your survival.”

Hinata nodded, though she still cried. She leaned into the touch of her father, his wisdom, his humble kneel on the floor before him. 

“It only saddens me that I have not fostered an environment of vulnerability,” Hiashi said quietly. The room was so silent besides the two of them, you could hear the whistle between Hinata’s teeth as she sucked in air. “And that I was not someone you could trust with such precious information–– I am so sorry for that Hinata. I have become hard during my tenure as Father, and it is my fault for not creating a safe space for my own daughters––you as well, Hanabi. I hope you both can find forgiveness in your hearts.”

Hinata nodded and then Hiashi did something even more unbelievable, he hugged her. Hinata’s tears stopped from the shock of the gesture, and she closed her arms around her father’s middle, her chin resting on his shoulder, feeling for the first time in a long time, like a small child whose parent was taking away all of the bad things, like magic, like it was nothing at all. 

“Of course, I forgive you,” Hinata sniffled when they broke apart. Sasuke handed her a tissue, which she used to wipe her nose and mouth. “Y-your job is hard…I c-can’t imagine processing all of this all the time.”

“It doesn’t become any easier with age,” Hiashi sighed heavily. He stood up, went over to Hanabi, and hugged her too. “You all seem to have a plan, with the Byakugan file gone and traded to the Akatsuki––” his tone was disbelieving, but not angry.  “So please advise. We will follow your lead.”

Sasuke stepped forward, nodding. “Hinata and I do have a plan.”

He just didn’t like it very much. 

-:-

For the most part, the new plan was the old plan. Hinata would go with Gaara to the Boys Club Meeting like nothing had happened within the Hyuga Syndicate. 

Sasuke watched Hinata as she hugged her father and left the room, their friends and family having already been dismissed in preparation for the unexpected mission. He gave them privacy as she and Hiashi exchanged a few charged words, though he still heard whispers of his concerns, the “be carefuls” were more demands than they were aspirations.  

Then she looped her arm around his and pulled him out of the room. They fell into step together, quiet, thoughtful. Hinata’s short hair ruffled softly at the nape of her neck when they passed an open window. In the kitchen, they walked by a clock and her grip tightened. Gaara would be there to pick her up in only a few short hours. 

“When do you call your brother?” Hinata asked as they went up the stairs together, still arm-in-arm. 

“While you get dressed,” he replied. “We don’t have time to waste.”

“Hm,” Hinata said, clearly preoccupied with something else and Sasuke could not blame her. It was hard for him to miss the fear in her eyes despite the brave face she was putting on for everyone else. She didn’t want to do this anymore than she wanted Hanabi to take her place. But this was her choice, and it was the best way. Suna and ANBU needed to be exterminated. Permanently. 

“What are you thinking, Hyuga Princess?” Sasuke asked, and the title seemed especially fitting tonight after everything. He asked, even though he already knew what was troubling her, because the same things were troubling him. It would be hard to let her go, again.

“Too many things,” she said quietly as they went into her bedroom. When they stopped in front of her bed, she looked at him with big, worried eyes, wet at the corners, and shining like stars. “What if––what if I’m not strong enough? W-what if something goes wrong?”

“It won’t, I won’t let it,” Sasuke said. He put his hand under her chin, held her face there so that she could see how serious he was. “I will be with you every step of the way. You might not see me, but know I’ll be there. I was trained for that.”

Hinata nodded curtly, but still the worried look did not leave. She found her way into his arms, placing her head under his chin, wrapping her arms tightly around his middle. She squeezed, and Sasuke held her tightly against himself, trying to pretend like he didn’t feel her shaking. 

“You're strong, Hinata,” Sasuke whispered, running his fingers across her bare back, tapping them against the woman with the knife. “You’re stronger than me. You’re the best of us all. And we’re not leaving you behind.”

He felt her nod under his chin, but he still wasn’t sure that she was taking him seriously. They gravitated towards the bed, where they laid together for half an hour, Sasuke slowly and meticulously running his fingers through her hair as he watched her eyes close, her head burrowing deeper into his chest like she was trying to make a home out of him. She could, if she wanted; he would let her. He’d open his chest and let her crawl inside. 

But she would never do that, not when she had her Family to save. Sasuke respected that about her, and he would support her through it, too. He kissed her forehead, her nose, her lips, each finger on her hands, her forearms, her shoulders, her neck, and then back to her lips, feeling horrible when his groggy voice woke up to say, “it’s time.”

He watched her nod, crawl out from under him, and disappear into her closet. It was a walk-in closet, and Sasuke did not follow her, he gave her the privacy she needed. Though she hadn’t said as much, he could tell that she needed a moment to breathe by herself. Sasuke went out on the balcony, watched his breath become cold air, and called his brother. 

Itachi answered on the first ring: “Brother,” he said. 

Sasuke was calling on a Hyuga burner phone, and he was glad Itachi had understood and expected this. “It’s a go,” Sasuke said instead of greeting. “As planned, divide your men. The first group will meet me at the izakaya at Point A. We’ll need enough to split.”

Itachi chuckled, “how many do you think we are?”

“Enough. I’ll be bringing Hyugas and we’ll make it work.”

“Alright,” Itachi sighed. Sasuke could hear the sounds of metal clicking in the background. “Apologies, but our best will go to the Head, those are our priorities. Are you okay with that?”

“I’ll have to be,” Sasuke said. He looked down at the front of the Estate, watching sleek black cars pull into the driveway and head around back. Good. Gaara did not need to know that there was an entire production happening behind the scenes. “Sakura and Naruto will guide you in.”

“Not me, brother,” Itachi said. A car purred to life over the phone. Outside, Sasuke watched Neji direct cars to the back of the building, his face stiff and alert. There was so much movement happening already. “I will go with you, that much I can say.”

Sasuke felt his eyes close in gratitude, but he didn’t say anything of the sort on the phone. “Good,” he said flatly.”I will see you in an hour.”

When he went back into Hinata’s bedroom, she was dressed in a new gown. This one was champagne-colored. She wore a tight, short slip dress of the same color, with high-low tulle falling gently around her knees, the longest parts reaching her ankles. The trim was rimmed in spongey ruffles, and the neckline was tight across the base of her neck. She’d pinned her short hair back, exposing her neck even more, and the small, golden hoops she’d put in her ears. Already, her feet were strapped in a pair of black heels. 

Sasuke was in awe of her, and she looked every bit the prize Gaara wanted her to be. But Sasuke knew that she was far more than that. He told her so as he brought her into his arms, feeling the fabric between them. He could smell the lemongrass of her hair. Her tattoos were hidden, but Sasuke could still feel their presence. 

“You are gorgeous,” he said, when he let go. He looked her up and down, this time with a specific sort of scrutiny. “Can you hide any weapons in that?”

Hinata smiled prettily, flashing her teeth, her tooth gem hitting the reflection of the overhead light just right. “Of course,” she said, holding up the ruffles and tulle, and slipping her fingers into the bottom of her slip dress. She pulled it up to reveal a small revolver attached to a holster at her upper thigh. On her other, there were knives. “Do you think I’m naive?”

“Of course not,” Sasuke barked a laugh, if only to control his nervousness, his arousal, the panicked feeling in his chest. She looked almost too beautiful. Hinata saw this look on his face and took his hand in hers. She placed it on her waist. 

Sasuke let her take his other hand and put on her other hip. Then, she put a demure hand on his chest, and smiled. He almost felt silly in his too-big suit, but she told him not to worry about it. 

“Who's the worried one, now?” She asked him.

“I’m not worried,” Sasuke said, pulling her closer. “I’m just a bit irritated you haven’t gotten dressed like that for me.”

Hinata laughed, “Well, there hasn’t really been an opportunity lately.”

“Sure,” Sasuke said as he began to move back and forth, holding her arm: a little impromptu dance. “I’ll host a Yakuza meeting and invite you next time. Can’t guarantee you’ll be my date, though.”

“Oh?” Hinata raised her eyebrows as they spun, the tulle gliding around her bedroom, catching the low light in its transparent haze. Sasuke realized then that some of the threads were gold, like stars. “Can’t say I’m interested.”

They laughed as they danced, spinning around once more. Sasuke took her head in his hands and kissed her deeply, feeling the urgency under her fingers as she spun them through his hair, bringing his head all the more closer. His hands tightened around the ruffles of the dress and Hinata gasped in delight, tightening her arm around the back of his neck. 

“Sasuke––” she said, and she sounded like she was crying. Sasuke looked up, his mouth on her neck, when three knocks came at her door. 

“He’s here,” Neji’s voice came through the wood. “In the foyer. Hinata, I have to escort you now.”

Sasuke would not ever forget the fear in her eyes when they broke apart. When she opened the door. When she walked away. 

Chapter Text

“You cut your hair,” Gaara said. 

Hinata ran a hand through it absently, amazed that her fingers didn’t shake. They were sitting together in the back seat of Rolls Royce SUV, not touching. One of Gaara’s men was the silent driver, pulling them farther and farther away from the Estate. Hinata watched from the window, her nose almost touching the glass, as Sasuke emerged from the building just as they were pulling out of the gates. He was a solitary figure against the white of the snow. And then he was gone. 

When Neji collected Hinata from her bedroom only a few minutes earlier, he looked somber, emotional, and regretful. She could see this in the way he held his mouth, frown lines evident between his eyebrows. Hinata put her arm through his like old times, and let him lead her down the stairs, Sasuke watching from the doorway. 

“Hinata,” Neji had said quietly as they began their descent. “I must apologize for everything, I––”

Hinata merely smiled sadly, shaking her head, feeling her earrings hit her neck. “No,” she said. They were mid-stairs, now. “You don’t have too. You are a great Uncle to this family.”

“But––”

“––and that means you are constantly thinking about what is best. Y-you’re a protector, nii-san, I can’t be mad at you for what you were raised to do,” Hinata said, at the bottom of the stairs now. She hadn’t yet realized the weight of her words, the heaviness of the implications, the thought of being raised this way: his harshness, his brashness, his willingness to do commands; but then, of course, his empathy, his forgiveness, his sharp eyes that knew when to look away and when to look a little bit harder. “Through-in-through you were just doing your job.”

They both stood in front of the door. Hinata could see Gaara’s dark silhouette through the fogged glass. Neji grabbed her hand and squeezed it. They hugged, and Neji whispered in her ear: “Don’t worry. I will be there when we get you.”

Now, Hinata sat in a large and expensive car, a fur coat pulled around her throat. She could feel Gaara’s stare, so she took her gaze from the fleeting tree lines that flocked the outer borders of the Estate and gave him a response he so needed, lest he decide to bash her head against said window. She didn’t know what type of mood he would be in. 

“I did,” she said placidly about her new short haircut. “It kept getting in the way.”

“Of what?” Gaara scoffed. “I can’t imagine anything you do is so strenuous. Tie it back like a regular woman.”

Ah, so it was a mean mood; she shouldn’t be surprised, but it meant the waters were different.  Shark infested. “I guess you’re right,” her tone was demure, something she had learned from Aoki during her living days. She had been a true lady of the house. “It’s just unsanitary if it gets loose and I have to move it during a tattoo.”

“I can’t believe they still let you do that,” Gaara said bitterly. 

“Why wouldn’t they?” Hinata merely blinked at him. It started to snow; first watery droplets that melted about contact with the windows, then big clumps that painted everything thickly like dust. 

“There are better things to do with one's time,” he said. Here they were, once again, sitting together, having a “normal” conversation that younger Hinata might have been jealous of…as long as she didn’t know the context. 

“Like what?” Hinata asked. 

“Shut up,” Gaara snapped. “This is a pointless conversation and there are more pressing matters to be discussed. I need you on your best behavior tonight. Stay by my side and don’t talk out of turn. Better yet, don’t speak at all, Hyuga. That negotiating shit you pulled last time almost made me kill you.”

Hinata could feel the energy shift in the car. She pressed her back into the seat as if having something solid behind her would bring her comfort. It didn’t help. The fur coat was up to her nose and she looked down, watching her breath move the soft tendrils of chinchilla fur. Poor chinchillas, she thought. If I make it out alive I’ll never wear another one again. 

Gaara pinched the skin of her thigh and Hinata looked down at the appearing red spot in surprise. The gesture was silly and quick, but Hinata guessed it had to be. He didn’t want her showing up with a blackened eye––it would ruin the meeting, or at the very least cause some suspicions of their potential clients. Still, the harm made her consider how easy it still was for him to hurt her, how he didn’t hesitate. She felt more and more right about not letting Hanabi come. 

“I said, ‘do you understand?’ Get that dumbass look off your face already.”

“I understand,” Hinata muttered, turning her eyes back to the road. The snowflakes were golf-ball sized and almost obscured everything in sight. She hoped Sasuke was close by. 

-:-

“Brother,” Itachi and Sasuke clasped hands when they met at the izakaya parking lot a little down the ways from the Hyuga estate. Sasuke remembered Hinata telling him that it had been one of the many sites of the affair between Aoki and Hizashi––but it was closed now, and the parking lot was so dark and so empty that he wouldn’t have been surprised if a tumbleweed blew through it.

The weather was becoming unrelenting and he had to blink away snowflakes every few seconds. Behind Itachi stood with the rest of the Akatsuki, eight of them, all dressed in long black cloaks with the metal of their weapons glinting against the light. Behind Sasuke, were only Sakura and Naruto. Once they figured out how to separate, each team would be led to the second rendezvous point for the evening; from there they would start their separate missions.

When Hiashi discovered that Hinata had given the Akatsuki the Byakugan File in a trade, he looked to almost have a heart attack, but then he did something more––he lifted the corners of his lips, an almost smile. In his office later, he drank down the rest of his alcohol; at that point, everyone except Hinata, Sasuke, Shikaku, and Neji had been dismissed. 

“My daughter,” he’d said. “You wonder why I am not so angry about the file?”

Hinata nodded minutely and Sasuke remembered resisting every urge to wrap her in his arms, to smooth out the worry lines between her eyebrows, to hide her away. It disgusted him sometimes, how soft she made him. 

“The file is decades olds and only occasionally added to. Before it was digital, it was paper, but we burned those years ago,” he began. “You see, it contains very sensitive information regarding ANBU and those government officials aligned with a glorified assassin’s cult.” Here, he looked Sasuke in the eye, in which Sasuke made no reaction. Sasuke knew who he’d worked for. 

Though, the information was a surprise.

“We have unmasked data and identifications of all Senior ANBU officials. You see, we helped them out before you were born and did our own information harvest,” Hiashi volunteered, pleased when no one looked remotely surprised, merely serious.

“I thought it was something like that,” Hinata admitted. “But I n-never looked!” She added. 

“I get why you’re not mad,” Neji said quietly. At this point in the night, he’d gravitated towards the couch against the far wall, switching between holding his head in his lap and staring straight-forward without emoting. “If our mission is to take down ANBU…then there’s no need to keep the file anymore.”

“There will be no need for blackmail,” Sasuke completed the thought, nodding. “The file was keeping ANBU––”

“––and the government,” Neji cut in.

“From launching a full investigation on the Syndicate,” Sasuke surmised. “That’s why I was originally sent in as an agent: as an attempt to start the process of eradicating the Yakuza in its entirety.”

“You understand,” Hiashi sounded pleased. “You understand completely. You see, your people––The Uchihas–– were the strongest of us for quite a long time, so they had to go first. It was convenient that ANBU had you, and they probably knew that you had a misguided vendetta against us. I imagine they might have even planted the idea there in your youth.

If anything, that loss of the Uchihas shut down the Black Market in Japan for almost a full year. Everyone had to rebuild––especially after that quack Orochimaru ruined everything,” Hiashi frowned heavily. Then he shook his head, waving his hand as if waving away the memories. “Anyway, it makes sense that the Hyuga would be high on their list, since we took the lead after the Black Market got back on its feet, and after acquiring some of the Uchiha’s former partners. We also had the Byakugan File, which other Syndicates knew about.”

Hinata looked up, a serious set in her eyes, “S-so that means that if someone is directly affiliated with us, they are guaranteed ‘protection’ from ANBU?”

“In a sense,” Hiashi nodded. “That’s how it is understood. That is why I thought Gaara wanted this Boys Club Meeting so badly,  so that we could be seen together and seen as a threat. Being that they are based in a place with more relaxed weapon law, I thought the partnership would be beneficial to us both, it seems I have miscalculated.”

Sasuke didn’t miss the anger in his eyes from being fooled. Shikaku stood from the corner he was standing in and put a large hand on Hiashi’s shoulder. It was clear that the two men had been friends for long, strenuous years.

“Basically Hinata,” Shikaku said, connecting everything to the previous question at hand. “The Byakugan File is about to become useless, if we are successful at bringing down ANBU.”

“I see,” Hinata nodded, her hands fisting tightly in her lap.

“We will be successful,” Sasuke said. 

In the parking lot, Itachi and Sasuke conspired beside the car Sasuke had chosen––a nondescript, yet slick, bimmer. “I pray you’ve opened the file already,” Sasuke said, looking up at his older brother. Hiashi had given Sasuke permission to share the passcodes, which Sasuke did shortly after their meeting. 

It contained identities, maps, floor plans, and other important documents that would be politically and socially damning if released to the public.

“Of course,” Itachi said. He smiled bleakly: it wasn’t lost on him––or the entire Akatsuki––that the file would soon be useless to them, too. They’d made a trade on an item going out of fashion. Even if Hinata hadn’t completely known what was on it, she knew enough to take the risk. Sasuke felt hot pride rise in his chest. “I have questions, though.”

Sasuke called Naruto and Sakura forward, and the four of them considered what it would truly take to take ANBU down. Sakura pulled up a phone, where she’d drawn sketches of six people with their masks––Neither Sasuke, Sakura, nor Naruto had what their higher-ups looked like under their masks. Now the Akatsuki did. 

“These six run the organization. Three are based in Konoha. One is on the islands. Two are in the countryside but they travel––they could be anywhere.”

“Hm,” Itachi hummed. “We will split up, the Akatsuki is suited for this type of work. Let’s plan to drop the file off to the press as well––that way, the one in the island that we won’t get to will have the proper incentive to flee the country.”

“As if dead co-workers weren't incentive enough,” Naruto grumbled. 

Itachi raised an eyebrow, “Problem? We’ll try not to kill all of your colleagues, but there’s really no guarantee. Especially if they get in the way.”

“ANBU wasn’t a place that fostered deep connections,” Sakura spoke curtly. She was deeply uncomfortable, somewhat confused, and almost loyal to a fault. Sasuke was just grateful that her loyalty was to him. “Our team was most important, everything else was merely convenient. I would…prefer…if we stuck to these six leaders, but I understand if that becomes impossible.”

“Ah,” Itachi said. He understood Sakura’s allegiances and her hesitancy, after all, ANBU had saved her. ANBU had raised her. “They made such a subservient agent out of you and yet…”

“Can we just get going?” She huffed. “I want to live a normal fucking life after this, so let’s get to the point.”

Itachi said nothing else. He turned to walk over to the rest of the Akatsuki to relay the plans. Sasuke turned to Naruto and Sakura, and raised an eyebrow. “Will you guys be okay doing this?”

Sakura stared at him blankly and Naruto made a face. “I was hoping you would say ‘you guys don’t really have to do this,’” he said. 

“Why would I say that?” Sasuke deadpanned. “That’s not true.”

“Can we get back on track please?” Sakura was talking through her teeth. She wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible. “I will take my group to the countryside since I spent a lot of time there and know the land. Naruto, you’ll stay in Konoha.”

“Right!” He said. “One question, though. What if they’re not at HQ?”

“That’s easy,” Itachi stepped back into their sem-circle, having already divided up his Akatsuki colleagues. “We will go to their homes. The file has all of their addresses.”

  Sasuke grinned. He wished he could be there to see the man’s face––the one who gave the order to kill his clan––before he died. He wished he could be the one to do it. 

But his clan had been gone for more than a decade, and he had someone else on his mind. Sakura and Naruto would get the job done just fine.

-:-

Hinata wasn’t really sure what Gaara’s plan was. Was he really taking her to a Boys Club Meeting? Was that even a real thing? She knew, at this point, very little at all about the shape of the rest of her night. She just knew that Sasuke would come, and until then, she would have to fend for herself. 

Gaara took her hand as she stepped out of the SUV. They had pulled up to a private library on a wealthier side of the city. They were near the University and University Hospital, the old cathedrals, and art museums. A memory hit Hinata hard in the back of her head: She and Gaara sitting on the steps of the Modern and Contemporary Konoha Collection, feeding each other french fries at 17 and 18 years old.

The memory disgusted her. Gaara tightened his hand. The library was lit up in fairy lights and Hinata could hear music––stringed instruments––seeping out of its interior as doormen held the doors open for them. Maybe it was still a meeting. Hinata still was not sure what that would entail. Maybe they’d kill her on stage while Beethoven’s fifth played in the background. Cinematic. Maybe they’d hold her for ransom. Not so cinematic. 

“You’ll like the dinner,” Gaara said comfortably. He was playing his role with such a pleasant look in his eyes that Hinata was overcome with the urge to punch him. He fit right in with his dark three-piece suit, his hair gently curled, his eyes seafoam green and keen on her figure. He put his hand against her lower back. “Some of your favorites.”

“I’m so excited,” Hinata said, but it didn’t sound the least bit real and Gaara squeezed the curve of her hip hard enough to leave a bruise: a warning. 

“Play nice,” he ordered. There were eyes on them, and he smiled down at her, placing a kiss atop her head. 

So. This outing did require evidence, Hinata thought to herself. They did need to be seen together, at least, for a little while. That meant that Gaara still needed this connection, even if he had nefarious intentions afterwards. Hinata noted this as she folded into his arms, the ruffles of her dress a nice barrier. He seemed to be allergic to the material, his arms went red every time he brushed against it. Good, Hinata thought. Keep him away. 

The man from the last meeting approached them, looking jovial and pleasantly drunk. The event wasn’t large, it was in one of the rooms of the library. A reading room, perhaps, surrounded by dark bookcases full of literature, and long tables where one would study. Instead, these tables were filled with drinks, charcuterie, and other objects of merrymaking. 

“My friends,” Jugo said, handing them both a drink. He was red in the face and had clearly been there for quite some time. “I’m glad you finally made it. We’re still waiting on a few guests before we begin the meeting and, well damn––” he broke off when his eyes flitted to Hinata and her pink face. “You cut your hair! Don’t Hyuga’s pride themselves on their manes?”

He was more talkative than last time. Hinata wanted to take a step back but knew she could not. She accepted the drink deftly and blinked prettily at him, then she turned to Gaara, laughing gently, “Spilling Hyuga secrets, my love?” She turned back to Jugo, “It’s true, Hyuga have a certain aesthetic, but I l-like to stand out sometimes.”

Gaara tightened his grip, pressing the bruises. 

“You certainly do,” Jugo said, grinning. “I’m excited about whatever insight you’ll give during the meeting. It was great talking to you last time.”

“Thank you,” Hinata grinned back and leaned into Gaara, nuzzling her chin under his head, hoping to God he would stop squeezing her so tightly that it hurt. “I’m––I’m just happy to be beside him. I feel so lucky to be able to share t-this part of my life. It’s…rare, when y-you’re someone like me.”

Gaara looked down at her, his eyes flitting to her lips. She watched him process this and was still in denial that it was coming when he grabbed her chin and kissed her, his lips as full and as brash as she remembered. It was a full and proper kiss too, that stated a sort of ownership. When he was done, he took his hand away and almost gave her whiplash. She could taste him on her and she smiled. She smiled. 

“She’s a prize,” Gaara confirmed, like this was casual. Hinata looked around; so many people had seen, their heads all tipped in their direction. A sick feeling crawled up her throat. Then, Gaara did something even worse. He tapped her on the ass in a scurrying motion. “Darling, do you mind running over to get me a new drink? Sorry, Jugo, I don’t drink red wine.”

Hinata stumbled away, almost tripping over herself. Despite the humiliating effect of Gaara’s dismissal, she felt grateful for it. She needed an out so that she could take care of something. She was making a bee-line for the door when a hand gripped her around her left wrist, stopping her and making the red wine in Gaara’s glass slosh around. 

“Where are you going so fast?”

Temari.  Hinata winced; she hadn’t known she would be there. She stood three inches taller than Hinata, her hair in its usual curly puffs, her eyeliner dark and heavy over her watercolor eyes. She wore a long, black dress that fit her frame perfectly. 

“I have to pee,” Hinata said simply. She owed Temari nothing. “Is that a crime?”

Temari raised her blonde eyebrows, “I don’t know. You tell me––Cup looks full to me.”

“It’s not my first one,” Hinata said. She gestured to the one in her left hand, “This one is your brother’s.”

“You just got here,” Temari said.

Through her teeth, “I’ve been thirsty.” As if to prove her point, Hinata took a large gulp from her glass.

“Hm,” Temari rolled her eyes, taking Gaara’s cup from Hinata’s outstretched hand. “Whatever, bitch, I’m just messing with you. Why aren’t you over there with him?”

Hinata felt her jaw tense. She was intentionally being agitated. “I was dismissed.”

“Aw, good dog,” Temari cooed, smiling from ear to ear. “And can she do tricks, too?”

Something violent and fierce must have flashed behind her usually quite placid eyes, because Temari blinked in surprise. Hinata took a deep breath and grabbed a napkin from the bar, using her right hand to calmly wipe away the bit of wine Temari had spilled on her when she took the glass. 

Temari watched her, then her eyes narrowed. “Hey,” she said, her eyes going from Hinata’s focused face to her right hand. “What happened to your finger?”

Hinata’s eyes fluttered up to Temari’s, momentarily alarmed. She quickly masked it by looking down again, pretending to finish cleaning off her hand. Hinata had already forgotten about her finger, but between that and the short hair––

She didn’t need the Suna making any sort of connections. She didn’t need them having any ideas. 

“I’m going to the bathroom,” Hinata repeated and walked past her, her drink still in hand. 

-:-

In the small, single-use, green bathroom, Hinata’s face felt hot. In the privacy of it, she briefly let her emotions run wild. All of Gaara’s touches, looks, and little acts of humiliation were getting to her. She spit up in the sink, and tried to scrub the kiss off of her lips. 

“Stop it, Hinata,” she told herself sternly, looking at herself in the mirror. Her hair was falling from the pushed-back style she’d put it in, her face was all red, and her lipstick was smeared. She’d have to get it together if she was going to continue to play the part. “Stay on task.”

Besides, Sasuke was waiting for her. Hinata reached under the slip of her dress and pulled out a tiny, round tracking device. She didn’t know if the dinner room was wired for detecting such a device but it likely was, with the sons, daughters, and leaders of prominent crime organizations gathered together in one room. No, Hinata thought, the safest bet was to leave the device elsewhere, not on her person. 

She flicked it on, hearing the minute buzzing sound it made, and placed it inside of a potted Jade plant that sat on the bathroom countertop. She dug a hole with her fingertips and pushed it just under. Now, Sasuke should be able to find her.

When she stood up to begin fixing the makeup she had ruined with her panic, she felt a sudden wave of dizziness hit her and she gripped the sink. She closed her eyes, her head suddenly pounding. Outside the door, someone was knocking. 

“Just––Just a minute,” Hinata gritted out her teeth, trying to get her head to stand still. Maybe she hadn’t eaten enough? It had been a long 48 hours, in which she had barely slept. A long week even. Still, the knocking continued, echoing against her skull. 

“I said––” she looked in the mirror, seeing two of herself, then three, then four. She raised her hand to push her hair out of her face and missed, and when she moved to put her hand back onto the basin of the sink to steady herself, her hand missed it completely. Before she could stop herself, her body went straight to the floor. 

Her head hit the door knob on the way down, and her crown erupted in pain. She wavered there, on the emerald-tiled floor, for a few minutes, unable to find the strength––or the stability––to stand. Her vision began swimming around her, and black spots appeared like stars, like prayers, like Sasuke’s eyes looking down at her, all while the knocking at the door grew louder. 

Behind the door, through her pain, Hinata recognized a voice, as distorted as it was. Temari, the bitch, saying: “––her hand, Gaara. Something isn’t right.”

Then Hinata saw and heard nothing at all.

Chapter Text

Hinata sat in a church pew with a terrible headache. The light coming through the stained glass was tepid, but she enjoyed the colors: baby blue, spring grass green, lollipop pink. She watched the light change for a while, feeling calmed by the way it moved as time passed. 

The church pew was comfortable, plush under her bottom, with the curved wood behind her as a steadying fixture. She settled in nicely, barely taking notice when she heard the door to the cathedral open and someone walked in. 

“Hinata,” a woman called, as she walked to Hinata’s pew and sat down beside her. Hinata was humming absentmindedly––not paying attention. She felt like a child as she twisted her thumbs and kicked her feet, wringing her fingers around in her hair. She liked the colors. That’s all she cared about. 

“Come now, Hinata,” the woman said, and her voice was familiar. “I know we have been apart for quite some time, but that’s no reason to act like a child.”

Hinata stopped kicking her feet. She stopped messing with her hair. She felt herself grow, her arms filling out, her head becoming more clear, her headache going away. She even began to find her words. She looked around in surprise, blinking. “Wh––what––?”

Yes. She was in a small church, on a pew, watching her father talk quietly to the priest. Between them was an oblong ceramic vessel, which held her mother’s ashes. The light that came from the church windows was tepid, yes, but it was also raining, just like she remembered. She was so young when this happened. Barely a teenager. 

She turned quickly, remembering the woman, and found her mother. 

She looked the same, long hair with bits of gray coming in at the front. Same easy smile. Same round face. “Hello, my daughter,” she chirped. “I see a lot has happened since I’ve been gone.”

“That’s an understatement,” Hinata said. There was too much to say, and so Hinata said nothing. She picked at her fingers. She heard noises––voices, almost––coming from outside of the church. They were loud, but muffled. Hinata couldn’t understand or make out what they were saying. 

“Ignore them,” Aoki said, still smiling. Hinata traced her crow’s feet with her eyes, reveling in the wrinkles that meant a life was lived. “You’ll have time for that soon. Remember when I gave you that advice? About playing dead?”

Hinata nodded, eyes wide. The voices went quiet.

“There you go, my sweet girl,” Aoki said, putting her knuckle under Hinata’s chin playfully. “I wasn’t the best mother, but I had my moments, don’t ya think?”

Hinata’s eyes filled with tears, “What do you mean?” She blubbered, “Y-you were a great m-mother––”

“Now now,” Aoki tsked. She took a cloth from her purse and dabbed Hinata’s face. “Let’s not play pretend in the house of the Lord, you know I had my faults and that’s okay. A real woman would’ve stayed, and that’s what I need you to do. You’re not supposed to be here, you know?”

“I––”

The priest in the front began to pray. Hinata watched her father sit in the front pew, two little girls and a little boy sitting next to him. At the back of the church was a man, mourning quietly in the shadows. Her uncle Hizashi. 

This distracted Hinata. She looked at Aoki, “Is he here?”

The voices started to go up in volume again and Aoki looked at her in such a motherly way that Hinata blushed. “Sorry,” she said. Playing dead. The voices left. “What do you mean I’m not supposed to be here?”

“This isn’t a place of the living,” Aoki said, she pulled her purse into her lap and draped her hands over it. She was wearing a t-shirt and jeans, an outfit Hinata remembered her wearing when she would visit Ino’s mother to gossip and smoke weed. It looked out of place in the church. “But it’s not a place of the dead either.”

“Purgatory?” Hinata deadpanned. She didn’t like how her voice echoed. 

“No,” Aoki waved her hand dismissively. “No, more like…hm, a memory. But that doesn’t matter, my sweet girl. What matters is that you need to leave this place. You’re not meant to be here.”

“It seems okay here,” Hinata disagreed. “It's warm and my head doesn’t hurt.”

Aoki just smiled sadly and took Hinata’s hands in hers. She looked at her for a long moment, as if memorizing every curve in her face. She squeezed Hinata’s hands, “If you stay, you won’t find me here. Trust me, you belong in the world.”

Slowly, Hinata began to feel warm. Her headache came back and she shut her eyes tightly. Then, the voices––they were low rumbles, echoing, and cloudy all over her head. Aoki looked at her knowingly, squeezing Hinata tightly. She looked concerned, her eyebrows furrowed the way Hinata remembered them to be, and her lips tightened. The bells in the cathedral began to ring, and Hinata watched her father, her sister, Neji, and herself all stand at the front of the church. 

Hinata knew that it was time to go.

“It was good seeing you, my sweet girl,” Aoki said sadly, reaching out to cradle her face one last time. “I’m so so proud of you, but now it’s time to wake up.”

“But I don’t want to leave you––”

“I will always be with you,” Aoki said sternly, leaving no room for doubt. “But now it’s time for you to wake up and live.”

Aoki kissed Hinata’s forehead and she woke up with a gasp like she had been held under water. She sucked in more air. Then she did it again. More, still. When she opened her eyes, she found herself in a dark room on a hard surface. Her forehead was wet with a sticky substance, and it hurt when she touched it. She lifted her fingers to smell, confirming that it was blood. 

She didn’t have time to be any more scared than she already was. She continued to breathe. Breathe. She’d been here before. She checked her body––her dress was still intact, but her weapons––the gun, the knives––all gone. No phone either. “Fuck,” she whispered, biting her lip.

Don’t panic. Breathe. Breathe. 

There was a door, a light, feet under. Voices coming through. Gaara was one. Don’t panic. Breathe. Breathe.

Aoki’s voice, a memory: Remember when I gave you that advice? About playing dead?

-:-

The car was silent when Sasuke’s phone finally pings, flooding relief through his system all at once. It lit up blue, and Sasuke watched Neji’s face snap towards it sharply; he’d also been waiting. 

When the Uchiha opened it, a map showed them the way to a library near the University campus. Neji quickly sent the coordinates to Itachi, who was behind them in a separate car with Sasori. Sasuke put his foot on the gas, jutting the bimmer forward into the night. He had no time for anxiety. He has no time for doubt. It was now or never. 

Fifteen minutes away. He would make it a smooth 8. 

Neji was grabbing his phone while Sasuke navigated the streets––the snow made the roads slick and shiny, and Sasuke felt the back tires hydroplane once or twice, but he was swift and agile and counteracted it with a skilled turn of the wheel. 

“Naruto in position at Konoha headquarters,” Neji told him, his voice a dark monotone. “Do you expect success?”

It was strange, being in the car with this man. It wasn’t like Sasuke had never been in a room with someone who had tried to kill him before––it happened plenty of times––but it was different with Neji. They had a tension that was more than simply hierarchal Syndicate drama, and guilt. It was perhaps that they cared so much about Hinata that they were willing to kill the other if they caused her harm. Right now, they were a united force.

That didn’t mean that Neji’s arrogance annoyed Sasuke any less. 

“Naruto is one of the best,” Sasuke said plainly. “He will get the job done.”

“And Sakura?” Neji said, fiddling with the phone. Sasuke drove over a speed bump at 30mph, and they were briefly air-bound. Neither man blinked. 

“She’s still an hour out. You’d do well to think of our own mission, instead of meddling in theirs,” Sasuke said. After all, Sasuke was the one doing all the work. “Enjoy being a Passenger Princess while you still can.”

Neji looked like he would kill him, but they both knew he would not. Instad, he put the phone down, squaring his shoulders. “Watch it, Uchiha.” Was all he said. 

Sasuke got a good internal-chuckle at that, thinking about when all would be said and done he would relay this to Hinata and feel warmed by her sure laughter. His fingers tightened over the steering wheel as he thought of her-–how he’d watched from the stairs of the Estate as Gaara’s car drove swiftly off the property. How he’d seen the silhouette of her head in the backseat as the night swallowed her. How he’d wanted to go after her immediately, and not go through with this silly plan at all. 

But alas, there was more at stake than just the Hyuga Princess, unfortunately. That was how systems––organizations––worked; it was about the whole. Besides, he wouldn’t be truly free until ANBU was done for. 

So he continued forward, watching Itachi follow behind, mimicking every movement, every slight turn in the wheel. They were brothers, that was for sure. Sasuke was grateful to have Itachi on his side. 

“We’ll need to get there before Naruto strikes,” Neji said, as if this had suddenly just occurred to him. “Otherwise it will be––”

“Chaos,” Sasuke finished, nodding. “Don’t worry, Hyuga. We’re already here.”

They pulled up to a library, drove around the side, and parked within a line of trees––just out of sight to the regular person, but not strange enough that they would question it should they notice. 

“Fancy,” Itachi said, getting out of the car. “How do you suggest we enter? I assume the front door isn’t an option.”

“Why not?” Sasuke said. “We’re here to cause a scene, are we not?”

Itachi shrugged. Neji just looked pale.

“I’ll stay with the cars and keep watch,” Sasori said. It was the first time Sasuke had heard him speak, and his voice was gravely, solemn. “Good luck.”

-:-

In the dark, Hinata searched for something to use. 

She wasn’t tied up––idiots––but she was in pitch black darkness in a small space, a closet, perhaps. She felt along the walls, searching for anything she could possibly use to defend herself. The floors felt like cold cement, the walls had peiling wallpaper. Her head ached––each throb like a splitting, bright, piece of lightning erupting inside of her. At least the bleeding had stopped. 

Her dress was light, so it didn’t weigh down her movements, but she still felt slow, tepid. She couldn't find anything––not even a piece of flimsy, wooden baseboard, to help her cause. All the while, she tried not to think about when she was a child, alone, in a similar predicament. 

No. No. She was different now. Her heart thundered in her chest.  She was different now.

Then the door opened, light came in. Hope leapt to her throat, but it immediately died and was replaced with panic when she was the thin shoulders of Gaara, closing the door behind him. 

He reached for her––the room was too small for her to plot an escape––and grabbed her easily. He yanked her left arm out from under her, pressing hard into the soft part––the missing finger––and she screamed in pain, almost crumbling to her knees right there.

The wound was still fresh. She felt her hand dampen with blood.

“Hm,” Gaara said, sounding thoughtful. “Temari was right. You’re lying about something.”

Hinata said nothing. 

“Luckily, no one at the library noticed the stump,” he threw her arm down. “So our partnerships are secured. You by my side spoke volumes.”

“Great,” Hinata said, cradling her arm. Her hand was shaking. She used the mesh of the dress to stop the bleeding from her finger. “Does that mean I can go now?”

Gaara chuckled, and it was a dark sound that made Hinata’s skin crawl. “The night is still young for you, Hyuga. I haven’t gotten my revenge yet.”

Hinata lept at him, using her fists, her legs, her teeth, whatever she had she dug into him. She would not be a trapped woman any longer! She would not do this anymore! She felt her fist connect with the skin of his cheek and felt euphoria rush through her when he stepped back, grunting in pain. 

The victory didn’t last long. Gaara took a pistol out of his pocket and hit her in the temple. 

Lights out.

-:-

The back entrance was poorly secured. Neji, Itachi, and Sasuke made quick work of disarming and disposing of the five muscle men who flocked around the door. They all wore black and smoked fat cigars, their shared saliva making the leaf soggy. They had been confident that no one would crash such a high-level event––the weapons inside were likely more powerful than the ones outside––but no matter, Sasuke and his team had squashed them all like flies. 

There were more inside, through the kitchens, but then too, they’d been stealthy and quick. Neji had even caught one of them trying to ring an alarm, but he’d grabbed the man by the hair and planted his foot so far into his mouth Sasuke was afraid that his jaw would never work the same again.

They strolled casually, holding flutes of campaign. Hinata’s instruction had been to leave the bug in the bathroom before returning to the party, so they went on to the place where they heard all of the music and laughter. Itachi peered in, eyes squinting. 

“No sign of your girl,” he said quietly as he turned back to them. He didn’t bother registering the twin looks of alarm he got from Neji and Sasuke. “No Suna, either. I’ll go in––they won’t recognize me; it’s been years.”

Itachi grabbed a tray of champagne flutes from a passing waiter, resting it easily in the palm of his hand.

“Okay,” Sasuke nodded curtly. “Neji, you keep watch out here and let us know as soon as shit starts to feel weird. I’m going to check the bathroom. We’ll rendezvous at this exact spot in five minutes.”

Sasuke broke off from the group, moving fast, and feeling sick crawl up his throat. He felt uneasy and strange, like he knew that something had gone terrible wrong. He found the bathroom without issue, and eased the door open. 

It was clean. There were no signs of damage, or even a fight. It smelled, however, like bleach. Recently cleaned. He inspected each part of it like any good agent would, searching the toilet bowl, the sink, the mirror for anything that might set him off.

Then, on the floor, he noticed a small wire. It was almost indiscernible. He picked it up by pressing the pad of his finger into it and lifted it to eye level. There was dirt on it. 

Sasuke whirled around and saw the potted plant. There were little finger holes in it––it looked like someone had dug down deep into it. He knew immediately what had happened. 

Hinata had planted the bug, sent the signal, and someone had found her. She wasn’t there. Sasuke felt his entire world tilt dangerous to the left. She wasn’t there anymore, and now he had no idea where to find her.

Red flashed in his gaze. In a daze, he made his way back to the rendezvous point, the back stairwell, where Neji and Itachi were conferring, their heads close. 

“Two things,” Itachi said when he spotted his brother. He immediately saw the frantic look in Sasuke’s eye and nodded––already understanding. “So you already know Hinata isn’t here.”

Sasuke nodded curtly, hand closed tightly around the wire. He was still seeing red. He felt feral. Neji put a hand on his shoulder, and attempted to calm him. But even so, Neji looked sick to his stomach. Everything was going wrong.

“...but,” Itachi said, eyes flicking to both men in front of him, “One of our targets is. Ox is here, unmasked. She is one of the people responsible for the death of our family, Sasuke.”

Sasuke looked up, the fact of it hitting him square in the chest. His vision went blurry. He put a steadying hand on the ground. Ox. Ox. “Ox was my supervisor,” he found himself muttering, his voice mixed with awe, shock, and piercing hatred. He felt like he was going to snap right there.

Ox, handing him the mission. Ox congratulating his team on finishing their training. Ox, slanted eyes peering down on them, as she reprimanded them. Ox sitting beside them at Kakashi’s funeral, holding a bouquet of flowers. Ox telling him to forget the Uchihas, they were long gone now. Ox behind the mask. Sasuke wanted to see her face, wanted to watch the light go out of his eyes. He saw violence play out in front of them, the way it happened when he was a child: the smell of blood, the loud explosions, the silence after. Sasuke stood suddenly. He––

“I know,” Itachi said, and his voice was gentle. He put his hand on Sasuke’s other shoulder, and that was when Sasuke noticed that he was breathing irregularly. He closed his eyes, trying to ease the memories away. There was not time to think of that-–any of it––right now. “I will take care of Ox tonight. You need to find Hinata.”

“No,” Sasuke growled. He was still shaking, his head going back and forth. He wanted Ox for himself. He wanted his revenge. But there was something more––– was Suna meeting with ANBU? It confirmed their work together. But where was Hinata? Where the fuck was Hinata? And why would Gaara leave? “No, no, no––”

“Think clearly,” Neji urged “And quickly. We don’t have much time. And Hinata–––”

Hinata. Hinata. Hinata. Hinata was with a man who wanted her dead under his foot. Who wanted his revenge served hot, and she was his target. Sasuke nodded. Nodded again. Nodded a third time. Hinata.

“Do our clan justice,” Sasuke said to Itachi. Itachi nodded as they looked each other in the eye, fire racing through them. 

He had to find Hinata. 

-:-

Outside, Sasori made no movement when Sasuke and Neji returned without Itachi. 

“Leave Itachi’s car, he’s taking care of some business,” Neji ordered, because Sasuke was too tense to speak. His mind raced a mile per minute. When they stepped into the back kitchens––empty except for the bodies of men they’d knocked––they heard yelling begin. Itachi had started his work. 

“Okay,” Sasori said, shrugging. “Where is the girl?”

“Not here,” Sasuke bit out. “We need to find her.”

“Hmm,” Sasori was detached from the mission itself, but he didn’t like failure. It didn’t matter to him that this business had to do with his former Syndicate. As far as he was concerned, the lot of them were complete strangers. And yet… “She was taken by Gaara?”

“Yes.”

“My cousin was a nasty child,” Sasori told them thoughtfully. “A glutton for physiological torture an manipulation. If I was him…I’d take the girl somewhere that would hurt her the most. An experiment in mental fortitude, if you will.”

“They way you talk is fucking disgusting,” Sasuke bit out, closing his eyes for a moment. All he saw was red. Red. Red. Red. His hands shook, his heart raced, he wanted to tear somebody’s fucking heart out. 

“No,” Neji said, the voice of reason. “No, Uchiha, I think he's onto something. Gaara has all of these sick connections to Orochimaru–––I think he must’ve taken her to where she was kidnapped.”

Sasuke peeled his eyes open, looking at Neji, a test in his gaze. “And you know where that is?”

Neji nodded. “On the other side of town.”

“Well, you better be fast.”

Chapter Text

Hinata’s hands were raw as she cut into herself, trying to stay awake. 

Her head still pounded. She had been in this dark room for what felt like hours––waiting for what she did not know. Gaara hadn’t come back. She heard voices, but she couldn’t make out what they were saying. She couldn’t imagine what they could possibly be waiting for; if they were going to kill her, they should get it over with. 

At first she felt a deep sadness at her predicament. After leaving the bug at the first location, part of her rationalized that there was no way that Sasuke would be able to find her. How could he? She was knocked unconscious and driven away––she barely knew where she was now. She had no weapons, no phone, no way to contact him or anybody and…

Her heart constricted. She wouldn’t even get to say goodbye. She wouldn’t be able to hug or kiss him one last time, to run a hand through his hair, to touch his mouth with the pads of her fingers. She wanted so much that––

A sound on the other side of the door alarmed her. She scurried back like a rodent in a cage, her back hitting the rough wall. It was textured, like it was unfinished. It reminded her, in a disquieting way, of when she was kidnapped by Orochimaru as a child.

The memory that would usually render her useless with panic, now merely washed over her in a wave. Perhaps that had been Gaara’s goal: to send her into a panic––a part of his torture plans––but by now, Hinata felt far removed from that lifetime. She had grown so much since that situation, since the panic attacks that plagued her life, and yet…and yet….

At least she got to save Hanabi. At least she was saving the Family. At least Sasuke would have a place to call home after all was said and done. 

The door opened and light exploded into the room. An arm grabbed her, cutting off her circulation, and pulled her screaming into the light. 

It was Gaara. He looked…oddly, worried. Hinata flattened her lips so she didn’t make any sort of expression, but internally, she felt glad. 

Ah, she thought, blinking blindly into the light. Her eyes weren’t adjusting quickly enough. So the plan is going well then…

As she was finally adjusting to the hallway she was suddenly thrust into, a hand went across her cheek. When she looked up, her vision doubled, it wasn’t Gaara who had done it––it was Temari. 

“Tell us what is going on,” Temari said, her voice in a high-pitched panic. “Right fucking now, Hyuga.”

Stars in her eyes. The slap had made Hinata bite her cheek hard. Her teeth were bloody, her mind was hazy. She leaned her head back, exposing her neck––it was almost over, what more could they do?–––and smiled.

“They’re coming for you next.”

-:-

“Left up here,” Neji said, his voice a steadying force as Sasuke pressed the gas into the floor of the car. They were jutting down an expressway, Sasuke expertly weaving his car through the few stragglers who were still out at this time of night. “This exit. Slow down; there’s an intersection.”

Sasuke merely looked at him out of the corner of his eye with an aggravated frown. He pulled the car around an SUV and made it up the ramp without an issue; blowing past the red line and turning the car in the direction Neji had pointed out. 

Sasori sat quietly in the backseat, looking bored. Neji had given him the phone, where other teammates were giving them updates on their position. As Sasuke drove across a busy intersection, Sasori intoned, “Naruto is done. If Sakura does not reach success soon we might be in trouble with your contact in Osaka.”

Sasuke didn’t even have time to process that, let alone to defend his teammate. Sakura would be fine. If anything, she had been even more pissed than Naruto had been. 

“Another left,” Neji instructed, eyes on the road. Then, to Sasori: “Any update on Itachi?”

Sasori kissed his teeth. “No, but don’t worry. He likes to take his time.”

“I’m not worried,” Sasuke grunted as he slowed the car down and cut the lights. His palms were itching. He felt jittery all over. He was grateful that this car was a silent one, sneaking along the street as he drove slower. 

Finally, they arrived at what looked to be an abandoned strip club. It was all dark, with slanted geometric architecture that made sharp shadows in the night. The sign that stood several feet above their heads was embellished with snakes, swirling around the rectangular sign. 

“This is it,” Neji said, nodding as Sasuke cut the engine. “I snuck and saw the photos of the place when I was a child. I always remembered the snakes.”

Sasuke felt saliva pool at the back of his throat, and he wasn’t sure if he was going to puke or punch something first. He ignored his feelings of disgust as he looked around; It was quiet, but didn’t seem deserted. He saw bobbing heads of muscle men beside the back doors, hiding in the dark, but wisps of smoke joined the chilly air. A smoke break. 

There were cars in the lot. Four of them. If each car had held five people, that meant there might be twenty men inside. They would need a way to quietly exterminate the vermin outdoors without alarming anyone from the inside. Sasuke’s palms itched once more. He wanted to shoot them all. 

“I’ll handle those guys,” Sasori said, a slick grin crossing his face. Sasuke couldn’t believe that his brother worked with the guy––he was strange, but at least he was helpful. “I can be silent. You both should go in after me. I’ll be in front and will handle the bobbleheads. You all know your target better than I do.”

Sasuke and Neji exchanged looks, passing along a strange sense of camaraderie as Sasori pulled from his jacket several long needles, each filled with dark liquid. Definitely freaky; Sasuke just felt glad that he was on their side. 

Together, the three of them exited the car and went alongside the dark edge of the building, their feet crunching on top of shards of glass littered over the cement. Sasuke and Neji stuck back to the sides as they watched Sasori slip out between them, the sharp edges of the needle flashing against the subtle light the moon cast over them. 

It was quick work––impressive, too, if Sasuke weren’t so distracted by his thoughts of Hinata. The three men fell as the Sasori implanted the needles into their necks, then took them out and pocketed them casually. He waved them forward. 

“Are they dead?” Neji asked, blinking as they stepped over their bodies. Their eyes were closed. They even looked peaceful, despite their bent legs where they had fallen awkwardly. 

“No,” Sasori said, rolling his eyes. “Just unconscious. I don’t waste the good stuff on people like them.”

“Ah,” Neji said. Then said nothing else. 

The abandoned strip club looked like a maze. Sasuke would tear down the walls if he had to. 

-:-

Gaara, Temari, and Kankuro were arguing. 

Hinata watched idly, sitting against a wall––in the light now-–with her hands tied tightly behind her back. They were in an office of sorts––a plush one with fuzzy red furniture and speckled mirrors on the ceiling. It was gorgeous, though everything was covered in a fine layer of dust.

Quietly, Hinata attempted to undo the knots despite her raw, bleeding fingers, hoping her captors wouldn’t look up at the mirrors and see her. The knots hadn’t been tied well––Kankuro was extremely anxious all of a sudden. 

Ox was dead. And so was Rabbit. They were waiting for reports about the others. 

“They’ll be looking for her,” Kankuro was saying, casting a frightful gaze in her direction––this was something she had never seen before, and she wanted to relish in but her head hurt far too much for that. Instead, she drank it in and committed it to memory. She could laugh about it later.

If there was one. 

“Gaara, you need to give it up okay,” Temari was pleading, her eyes wide with anticipation. For what, Hinata wasn’t sure. “Look at her! You’ve already got her here, tied up, and away from her family. Do what you need to do so we can move on––it’s only a matter of time before they find us!”

“We have no use for her,” Kankuro cried, trying to understand his brother. “Even if Ox and them are dead––we’ve already signed off on a deal with Juugo. We have our South Korean connections! We can just kill her here and––”

“No,” Gaara said, a dark energy unfurling like smoke around his body. This made even Hinata jump as her fingers worked the knots. “I want her to die the way Baki died: in front of an audience. We were only supposed to wait here until the deals were done and then––”

“But Gaara, that's crazy!” Temari broke out. She was red in the face, practically on her hands and knees, begging her brother to reason with her. “Why? Why do you have to do that when we can just end things now? We need to go––”

“You don’t understand,” Gaata moaned, closing his eyes. Hinata watched with interest; she remembered him going into these moods when they had dated, but he had always hid them from her then, tucking them back into the shadows of his mind. She watched the reflection of the top of his head in the mirror as he lowered it into his hands in agony. 

“You don’t understand what it was like for me––why I need this. How the first person who had ever loved me–––her family took everything from me. And I need to pay them back. I need them to feel what I felt.”

When Hizashi killed Baki, there were videos of it online. Gaara had seen them. When Hinata tried to call him afterwards, all he could do was scream at her over the phone. Perhaps that’s what he wanted for her. Something cinematic, something to last so that he could remember it. 

Hinata tugged the rope loose, using the wall as support to hold it as she wiggled. Almost there. If they could just talk for a little bit longer…

“Circumstances have changed,” Temari said tersely. She abruptly stood on her feet, kicking Hinata on her way out the door. “I’m getting my car. Either you’ll follow me or you won’t.”

Temari unlocked the door just as Kankuro thought to look up into the mirrors and noticed one of Hinata’s hands slipping out. Just as Kankuro was going for her, gunshots erupted and echoed through the building in quick succession.

Pop! Pop! Pop!

Time was up. 

-:-

With the needles, Sasori took out a couple more goons with ease until he ran out, the empty glass vessels littering the floor with their bodies. Sasuke had to admit, it was impressive––not a sound was made and they had gotten far into the club, unnoticed. 

No wonder the Akatsuki were so notorious. He’d have to watch out for them once all was said and done. 

However, now that Sasori was out of needles, Sasuke and Neji did the bulk of the physical work. By this point, Sasuke had counted six men down, which left roughly fourteen unaccounted to deal with. And they were all racing down the hall. 

Sasuke ducked a fist that threatened to connect, and reacted quickly, grabbing the man's collar and pushing a knee into his chest so hard that something cracked. He moved on without thought; twisting another man's arm behind his back and kicking him in the spine. He felt the arm dislocate and dropped the guy to the ground, walking over him.

Beside him, Neji was doing more of the same, except he was holding the silver edge of a handgun, and was beating it against the skull of a beefier man, breaking open the skin, a flash of red appearing against pale skin. Sasuke watched him go left, then right, then left again. Two men down and out like flicking a light switch.

That was four men down. Ten left. 

Sasuke was a rush of movements, none which felt any more real or concrete than the last. He barely recognized what he was doing, his only thought was Hinata, until a gunshot brightened the room, the sound beating against his eardrum, and bringing him back to reality with a rush. 

Five more men down––make it six. Neji had shot one at close range. 

“Fuck,” he said, dropping the body. It was in the chest––Sasuke guessed what Neji had had to do, and looked down to see the gun in the man’s hand; it was him or Neji. Sasuke inclined his head; they would have to move on.

Unfortunately, the sound had told their positions. Sasuke gave Sasori brisk instructions to go to the car––he should be on the lookout for Hinata, in case Suna heard the commotion and decided to flee. Sasori would shoot seventeen shots into the night, should he catch them leaving the building. 

Sasori nodded and left just as quickly and quietly as Sasuke expected him to. Sasuke turned to Neji once more, and they nodded, advancing. There would be four people left, if Sasule’s math was correct––but who knew? The estimate was based on the cars, not on anything concrete. If anything, he was being an optimist. 

It was unlike him. But he needed Hinata. He needed her alive.

-:-

“You bitch,” Gaara snarled when he saw what Kankuro was looking at, and leapt at Hinata without a second thought. Hinata pulled one arm free, then the other as she angled her arm back and hit him square in the nose. His head snapped back and the blood gushed immediately. It shocked him––she could tell––enough to make him stumble. 

He held his nose in surprise and pain as Hinata ducked under his arms on unsteady feet. More gunshots erupted down the hall. What was going on? Should she avoid them or go towards them? She and Temari made eye contact as Temari looked towards the noise, taking her own weapon out of the band of her pants. 

Then, Hinata watched Temari look at Kankuro and knew what would happen. Temari raced into the hallway, and Kankuro lept towards Hinata, his arms circling around her waist. He grabbed her easily, knocking her back against the wall––her head hitting it again. So much head damage, she could barely see straight. 

To gain her bearings, Hinata looked up at the glass ceiling. It reminded her of the church and the stained glass; the ceiling reflecting all the red fuzzy carpet, and shimmering; a mirage. Her mother saying you belong in the world. The glint of metal at Kankuro’s waist. Hinata’s struggling arms. Kankuro’s hands closing around her neck. Gaara saying, “Get off of her, Kankuro! Get off! She’s mine! She’s mine!”  The air leaving. Her reaching for the metal–––reaching, reaching––

Then Kankuro was pulled off of her as Hinata’s fingers just ghosted the gun in his pants that the mirror had shown her. Instead, she grabbed the knife beside it––clutched it––as Kankuro’s body went flying towards the ground. Gaara’s eyes were wild beasts as he looked down at his brother, who began apologizing, over and over. Gaara’s fists clenched at his sides. 

Quietly, Hinata slipped the knife behind her back and held it there, felt the hilt dig into her skin, saw the red of the carpet reflect off the glass ceiling. She watched Gaara press his foot into Kankuro’s neck––

A scream from the hallway. A spray of gunshots. Gaara reached down and grabbed Kankuro’s gun and turned to Hinata. He grabbed her neck the same way Kankuro had. Hinata pressed deeper into the knife, checking the ceiling. It couldn’t be seen. 

“It can’t be helped,” Gaara sighed with disappointed finality. “It has to end here.”

-:-

“Watch out!” 

Sasuke looked up as a stream of bullets went flying over his head. He immediately fell into a crouch as he saw Neji fly back, his back thudding against a wall. Neji made a sound––a strangled cry––as his body fell to the floor. 

Sasuke had to make a choice, so he staggered forward, hoping that Neji would be okay. Besides, there was a mad woman with a gun coming down the hallway. She had a pistol raised with both hands, and she looked hungry. 

There was nowhere for Sasuke to run. He was standing in a long hallway, littered with the bodies of Gaara’s unconscious men. Neji kneeled close to the ground, his hand clutching his right arm. The woman eyed him, holding her gun steady as Sasuke rose both palms––surrender. He was holding no weapon. 

“Who are you?” she asked.

“The Hyugas you left behind,” Neji answered, his voice hitching at the word left in a way that was so unusual, Sasuke looked back at him. The man was in pain, surely but––ah. Sasuke watched his right hand twitch. But what could he do with that new wound?

Sasuke moved an inch or so to the left, and the woman’s gun followed him. She lifted an eyebrow. “What are you doing, Uchiha?”

“So you know who I am,” Sasuke said, lifting his chin. “And you are?”

“I don’t have time for––”

Pop!

She screamed and fell, the gun sliding out of her hands and onto the floor. Neji’s right arm was trembling, but he didn’t let himself drop the smoking gun. Besides, he still had his legs. He stood and urged Sasuke on, a sneer breaking across his sweating mouth. “We don’t got time to waste, Uchiha.”

Sasuke picked up the woman’s pistol––she was crumbled on the ground, a gunshot through the femur––blood and bone everywhere. He was merciful, however, and used the but of it to knock her unconscious. 

By Sasuke’s count, there should only be two men left. 

Two men, and Hinata.

-:-

 Hinata carefully considered her position. 

Gaara’s hand was squeezing her neck, but the other was at his side, waiting. Her arms were pinned behind her back––or so he thought. Her knees were shaking, but there was nothing she could do about that. 

From the hallway, she heard a quick scream, and then nothing. Then, after a few seconds, footsteps––one steady, one, perhaps, faltered. A limp. She listened and waited, even as Gaara was yelling at her, spittle flying into her mouth, she waited. His face was as red as his hair was. 

He’s losing it, she thought, eyes wide. Something in her––the part of her that remembered the few teenage years they’d spent together––felt crushed. What happened to you? Her eyes pleaded, but his grip just tightened hard enough that the measured air she was getting became sparse. 

There was a commotion. Two men entered the room suddenly, kicking down the door. Immediately, Gaara’s free hand lifted, and she felt something cold and hollow come to rest against her skull. A handgun. 

Her breathing increased when she saw him.

Their eyes met and she wanted to weep. He came. He’d made it in time––he found her. Sasuke looked worse for wear but otherwise unharmed; it was Neji who labored, clutching his bloodied arm. 

Hinata wanted to savor this image of the two of them for as long as possible, but time was not on her side. Gaara ground the weapon into her head so hard that it hurt and tightened his grip on her neck.

Before anyone could do anything, Sasuke sprang into action, lunged to the floor, and pulled Kankuro up by his hair. Kankuro yelled as Sasuke brought the man to his chest, holding him there with one arm, the other held a gun that matched Gaara’s.

A pair of hostages. A long silence. Hinata’s fingers tightened around the knife behind her back.

“One move and I’ll shoot her,” Gaara said, his voice taking on a new edge: certainty. 

Sasuke seemed to consider this. Neji was stiff and still with labored breaths. Kankuro was openly weeping as his feet slid against the red carpet like he was trying to stand fully. Hinata watched his sneaker-clad feet slip. Sasuke’s grip on his hair was mighty. His temples were red.

“Please Gaara,” Kankuro was crying, big clumpy tears going down his face. “Gaara, please––I didn’t even want to do this, Gaara. C’mon, this doesn’t even make sense! You know it doesn’t! You’re just––you’re just going through something right now. C’mon Gaara––”

Sasuke held Kankuro as he struggled, but Gaara ignored them both.

Hinata could feel his breath on her skin, he was so close to her. As Kankuro cried and wept, Gaara leaned close, brushing his eyelashes against his cheek, making her cringe harder into the wall. In her ear, he whispered, “I will take you out of this world.”

Sasuke froze, bright hot fury flashing across his face. He yanked Kankuro once more, threateningly, and pressed the mouth of the gun to the man’s throat. Gaara moved his head away from Hinata to send a pitying look to his brother; the look was to tell him that he would not help. That he could not. That he didn’t want to.

But as he looked away, his hand around her neck loosened; he had forgotten himself in his sadism. Hinta rocked her body forward, angling it away from the wall, and slipped her arm out from beneath her. With a calculated swipe, gained from her years with the Family, she carved a bright red line through Gaara’s throat.

It was a clean cut.

His hand dropped, and the gun crashed to the floor. When his body fell, Hinata’s did too––to her knees, and she finally felt her body cave in on itself. Her mouth opened for a sob, but nothing came out.

The room was silent. Sasuke must’ve released Kankuro to Neji, because suddenly he was at her side, wiping her face with his shirt. Her light colored gown was stained quite horrible and everytime she looked down she saw more blood. 

“You’re okay,” Sasuke said, wiping her cheek, her forehead, her neck, her chest. He swept her hair from around her face, and held her face tenderly between his hands. His eyes were the clearest she had ever seen them––bright, determined, angry, concerned––and focused entirely on hers. “You’re okay. You’re okay. It’s over.”

She leaned into his touch, feeling unreal. Finally, her body recognized what it's done, what it's been through to be here. What it's been through to be with him.

“I’m okay?” she asked, clutching his fingers.

“You’re okay.”

-:-

Sasori was waiting for them in the car. 

Sasuke found that Hinata was weaker than he thought when they were leaving the strip club. She had quite a bit of vertigo, and was likely concussed. It was a wonder she had managed to cut so straight and so deep the first time, but all the adrenaline had left her by the time Sasuke collected her into his arms. 

He carried her into the backseat, where she laid against him as they drove. Neji sat in the passenger seat, still clutching his arm though by now he seemed unaffected. He reached out with his good arm, and held onto Hinata’s hand. She smiled drearily at him and squeezed it as she laid her head in Sasuke’s lap.

Gingerly, Sasuke held her like she was about to dissolve. He fanned his fingers through her hair gently, watching her eyes drift shut as the car bumped along, taking them closer and closer to the Estate where they could finally shower and then, hopefully, sleep. 

And rest. And recover. And leave all of this behind them.

He wanted a somewhat normal life for them, at least. Maybe they’d get a dog. Maybe he’d help her set up a real tattoo shop––away from the Syndicate, but not too far, because Hinata loved them all. She loved them deeply––enough to risk her life over and over again.

He pressed a kiss to her forehead, feeling her body shake and honestly––his was too. He had thought he’d lost her for a brief second. He never wanted to feel that way again. 

“Sakura update,” Neji said, from the front seat, looking at his vibrating phone in his lap. The windows were down, despite the cold, but none of them seemed to mind the cold air hitting them. They needed the rush to get them home. 

“Yeah?” Hinata asked, but her voice was small and sleepy. Dreamily, Sasuke looked down and wiped a finger across her cheek––it was like he couldn’t believe that they had come so far.

It had been a long fucking week. 

“She was successful,” Neji said. “Itachi as well. We will rendezvous at the Estate shortly.”

“It’s over,” Hinata said, and when Sasuke looked down, he was surprised to see small tears leaking down the crevices of her face. He wiped them up, but more appeared––stubborn woman. She grabbed his hand to stop him, and then brought it under her chin, tucking it. “Neji when we get home I can fix up your arm, okay? I’m sorry that happened.”

Neji cracked a smile and she released his hand. He brought it to hold his injured arm and shook his head ruefully, “Don’t worry about it, Hinata. If anything, you need rest the most.”

Hinata opened her mouth to protest, but a shiver ran through her body and she remembered only a few minutes ago, when she’d pulled a knife across a man’s neck. She felt herself curl deeper into the seat, trying to forget. 

“You’re okay,” Sasuke said quietly, bending over so that he could bury his face into her hair. She smelled like blood and sweat, but none of that mattered. She was here––back in his arms, where she was supposed to be. 

“You’re okay,” she said back, a small smile in her voice, despite the pain she was desperately trying to hide from him.

“Mhhm,” he agreed easily as he sat back up. He looked out the window and noticed that they were getting closer and closer to the Estate. He couldn’t wait to get her washed, fed, and tucked into bed. Privately, he wanted all of those things for himself, too. “Let’s get you back to the Family.” 

Hinata looked at him, startled. He watched this expression with muted humor and overt concern. Had he upset her? Did she not want to go back to the Estate?

“You’ll stay?” She asked, trying to sit up, but he wouldn’t let her, his hands wrapped around her. “You’re coming back to the Estate with me after…everything that’s happened?”

Sasuke merely looked at her, incredulous, but with a smile in his voice all the same, “Where else would I go, Hyuga Princess?”