A/N: This is a very small gift to someone who inspires me greatly and to whom I haven't written of lately for different reasons. I hope that my dear muse, SabakuNoAnjel will forgive me for the long wait of something I told her about months ago.
It sure isn't as good as what you write, but I do my best.
This first chapter is made of flashbacks and there are certain parts that might repulse some people. Just bear with me. Next chapter should be easier to disgest.
If you like it, review. I am always happy to hear from people.
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.
The Glam Show
Chapter 1
The Affair
By
Voyna
Flashback 1
Something Yamanaka Ino hated like shit was when she couldn't have a smoke in peace. For fuck's sake, which janitor did she have to do to make sure that during third period, all the female toilet cabins would be empty?
The retching sound that came from one of the cabins just made her temples pound. Someone was having a severe case of the pukes and what did you know, it made her want to join in. And here went the unknown chick's morning rice, oh and something damn liquid too. Someone had had miso soup for breakfast.
Well, you know what? Fuck it, the bitch could vomit as much as she wanted, for all that she cared, Ino was going to have that smoke. If she didn't, she would chop someone's head off and play baseball with it. Since it seems it became the national sport, supplanting sumo fighters, à la Sakura.
Oh come on! She shouldn't be thinking about Haruno Sakura before smoking, she would go through a whole pack at once and the fire alarm would start. On the other hand, being surrounded by sexy firemen, alone in a high school toilet (Miss McPukings didn't count, really) had its charms. Haruno Sakura was most probably the reason she started smoking in the first place. That whore had a way to make anyone go crazy. Sneaky, vicious and conniving, Haruno was picking a fight with the wrong girl. All the rumors she was spreading about Ino might have been partially true, but it didn't mean that she would forgive the slut for daring to cross her.
But then again, the shit they had going on felt weirdly comfortable. Haruno would get Ino bullied, Ino would claw Haruno's face beyond recognition. They said that the lollipop-head had had at least a few plastic surgeries because of Ino's bashing her head into walls and locker doors. But hey, Ino wasn't vindictive by nature; she could recognize Sakura's good sides. For one, she would have made a great sumo fighter.
Another thing Ino wasn't was a murderer. When she heard, the horrid choking noises coming from a stall, she couldn't just keep rummaging through her imitation of a Chanel bag (a lame, cheap-looking one at that) for her lighter. What if the chick just died because a lump of half-digested shit got stuck in her throat? Since the choking noises didn't recede, Ino had a surge of adrenaline going through her veins. Ok, fuck it; she really did have to check on the puking chick.
"Yo, what the hell is happening with you? You dying in there?"
Well that was some great rationalizing. The chick was choking to death, tough luck she'd be able to answer that question. Bending over, Ino started to look under the stall doors frantically.
"Hey, hey, hey, don't fucking die in there!"
Bingo. And what did she see under door number three, the soles of some lame-o school shoes. Okay, now let's just get in. She pushed against the metallic door. Well of course, it would be locked; people usually didn't go to the shits without locking the door. What did an almost-Yankee (as in almost-American, literally) do when the shits were locked? She fucking kicked them in! And that is how Ino's lame-o school shoes came in contact with the stall's door and virtually made it fall out if its hinges.
And there she was. The puking, choking wonder. And behold, beauty! But not really. Oh right, she needed to find a way to make her barf out whatever it was that got stuck in her throat. And how did an almost-Yankee do that? She just hit the back bent over the toilet stool as hard as she could (and trust Yamanaka Ino to have a dangerous righty) and heard a liberating plop! Hallelujah to that. The shivers that had been crossing the chick's back declined before stopping completely. Only the wheezing sound remained.
Sliding onto the tiled washroom floor, Ino passed a quivering hand over her face, not caring much whether she was smudging her make-up. What the fuck just happened? Oh yeah, she saved the life of some black-haired chick that still had her head in the toilet bowl. Was she going to get a reward for that? Most probably not.
"Yo, bitch, get that head of yours out of the shitter and look at your savior. You owe me your life."
Slowly, the girl lifted her head and turned it towards Ino. Ino's breath hitched. Well, well, what did we have there? Blank eyes, the color of milk, met blue ones (those were Ino's). Freak eyes met freak eyes, according to Japanese standards. Hyūga. And Ino even knew that Hyūga. Hyūga Hinata, their average ghost girl. She was rich, sure. Who wasn't in their dumb snobbish Tokyo high school? But she was virtually unknown by all, besides Ino, who made it a point of honor to know all her vassals.
Hyūga Hinata was literally a mystery. She scared people. Long bangs always hid her eyes, she had a black cloud always towering her and following her around. The equivalent in cuteness of a lichen-covered rock. The rock could be cleaned and polished though. The Hyūga never wore make-up, never rolled up her skirt, which didn't mean much to Ino. She wore hers long anyways. But there was something eerie in that way she had to avoid people's looks, to stutter whenever something was asked of her and of simply disappear as soon as the classes were over.
And here she was, her enormous, blank eyes filled with tears, her cheeks wet with the same and staring at Ino like a deer caught in the headlights. Hyūga Hinata, her real Hermes bag (her father didn't see it snobbish to shell out a few thousands for his daughter to carry around a genuine Hermes, it seemed) at the side of the toilet bowl, was puking her lungs out in a seedy (as seedy as a prestigious school's toilets could be) stall.
"You bulimic or something?"
Well, gee whizz, girl, don't get whipped into a speaking frenzy! Hyūga mouse wouldn't open her mouth; she just kept on staring at Ino. Who was flashing her thong at her at the moment, with the way she was seated, not that Hyūga was noticing. If you asked her opinion, she preferred Hinata's cousin, Neji. The Earl, as the dumb fangirls called him.
Honestly, Japanese chicks had issues, according to Ino. Some were fuck-ups like the specimen she had in front of her. Others elevated some dumb males to the level of deities. Some like Haruno made it their lives' goal to harass chicks they should. And others, like Ino herself, tried desperately to make themselves seem as hard as rock and as indestructible as titanium.
"You gonna answer, mousy? Or should I beat it out of you?"
Speaking those words, her eye caught something stuck between the Hyūga's Hermes bag and the tiled floor. It seemed to be a long, white stick. And the Hyūga had noticed it at the same time as Ino. Before Hinata could snatch it, it was already held in front of Ino's eyes and examined thoroughly.
A pregnancy test. A positive pregnancy test. Hello, there!
"Congratualtions, Miss Hyūga. It would seem that you are preggers!"
Well, didn't that little comment start a deluge. A horrid wail escaped he little Hyūga and got her to shake like the leaves of a tree in fall. Had Ino cared about the concept of delicacy, she would have learned before how to express herself. And she never truly regretted that lack of knowledge until now. There was something truly pathetic in the way the little Hyūga was holding it.
"Not a welcome news, eh?"
"P-p-p-pl-pl-please … P-p-ple-please … d-d-don't …"
She choked again, but not because of some shit stuck in her throat, besides maybe an overload of saliva. Aw, damn. If there was something more heartbreaking than a little girl bawling her eyes out because she got herself stuffed, Ino didn't know what it was.
"Ain't gonna tell, relax. Am not one for tattling."
Examining Hinata closely, Ino could say that under all that gloominess and besides the freak eyes, the girl wasn't ugly at all. Actually, she was cute, even beautiful. It wasn't really all that surprising that some guy that had a death wish approached her and discovered the diamond under all that mud. And had gotten his bratwurst into her sauerkraut, which led to a cabbage seed developing.
But at the same time, as Ino thought further, looking at the girl fidgeting with the lapels of her jersey jacket, at the way her eyes had to avoid any direct contact with anybody else, she could guarantee there was no way Hinata could get willingly impregnated by some Joe Bloe.
'Shit. Shit. Shit.'
"P-please, don't t-tell. Please … Don't … tell."
"Oh for fuck's sake, told you already I won't tell."
Letting the pregnancy test slide from her hand, she barely realized what death grip she had had on it. This girl wasn't like Ino, she wouldn't open her legs up for anyone that had something to offer. What did you want her to tell you, Ino was an opportunist. There was nothing too expensive, not even herself. Her parents might have been loaded, but there were other things more powerful than money to get her to wiggle her ass. But this girl wasn't like that. Mousy Hyūga most probably would have made a great catholic nun.
"Hey. Who's the father, just like that?"
Drawing her knees up, Hinata surrounded them with her arms and buried her face into the crook of her left elbow. Ino felt like a bitch for trying to pull the worms out of a girl like that, a girl that wouldn't be able to stand up for herself to save her life. And you know what; Ino didn't care about whether this baby was the by-product of rape, or whatever bullshit could have happened. It was none of her business, however at the same time; she needed to help the girl with the right now. Walking away was not her way to do shit.
"You don't want it, do you?"
Something like a snort was all the answer she got. Let us take that for a no.
"Well, then, you gotta get an abortion, as simple as that."
Didn't that send an electroshock through Hinata's spine! And it also untied her tongue.
"I c-can't. I'll need a parent's permission. H-he can't know about it, h-he will kill me if he knows."
Rubbing her temple, Ino raised her eyes to the pristine white ceiling. This damn high school couldn't have some fungi stains, like every normal building in the world?! Nope, it couldn't, with the tuition they were paying.
There were always ways to get around these types of administrative problems, but someone like a law-abiding little Hyūga couldn't know about that. Obviously the first time she had gotten pregnant. The potential result of an unwilling relation.
"Listen, it's your lucky day. You have an abortion expert here."
At the Hyūga's horrified expression, she had to laugh.
"Relax. Breathe in, breathe out. I am not gonna shove a hanger into your pussy. What I mean is that I know exactly the place where you can get an abortion without daddy and mommy ever hearing about it. It is a private clinic at that, as clean as the inside of a bottle filled with bleach. But it's gonna cost you."
Oho, the little mousy's bleak eyes lighted up as Christmas. There always was a way out when you had Yamanaka Ino on your side. But at the same time, Ino felt her stomach was in knots. Why did she know these types of things? This was not the time to get all Freud on her own ass. Shit about her own daddy and mommy could wait for when she was eighty and an alcoholic. If she lived HIV-free until then.
"I c-can get some from my b-bank account."
Gosh, the chick had a squeaky voice. She was one of the top students of their class, while Ino was ranking right in the mediocre middle, which was already a miracle considering how much she invested herself in her studies. All that to say that little Hyūga-hime surely wasn't all that streets smart. She didn't want daddy-o to know about her trip to the abortionist, commonly known as a gynecologist, and yet she would leave some traces of it on her bank account. Geez.
"Sure, make sure your father gets curious and starts asking questions. Or even better, your cousin."
At the mention of Neji, the Hyūga closed up right away and became as bleak as her eyes. Well, well. Wasn't that an interesting hint about what the relationship between the cousins was!
"You wouldn't have some bling-bling? Tiffany shit, gold, diamonds, Chanel, Hermes, anything. Trust me, the doc I am thinking about will take that for a payment. Nowadays with how chicks are desperate to get such items, they will scratch their eyes out to get them at half price and the old hoot will get more than her dumb abortion is worth."
At once, the Hyūga's facial expression went from blank to suspicious. Well, hello there! The chick finally had her mouse instincts kick in. She would ask the most important question in 3 … 2 … 1!
"W-why would you d-do that for me ..?"
Yeah, good question. Why the hell did Ino care? 'Cause she was a nancy, that's why, and had a huge savior complex. That was some great answer. You look like a knocked-up hamster and it makes my heart go boom-boom with mushy goodness. She was sure the Hyūga would love that as an answer.
"Listen, bitch. I am the only hope you have. When you find yourself in such a situation, you nod and say thank you, hoping I ain't gonna resell you to a prostitution ring."
Great way to reassure a knocked-up, panicked and potentially suicidal (who wouldn't be) high-society princess. Well, geez, Ino wasn't her mother or anything. She wouldn't bitch'n'moan if the girl decided she could do it her own way. She would even offer her a rope to hang herself from her living room's chandelier.
"W-where?"
Good, shit was starting to happen.
"Okay, you listen carefully. You know that alley behind the school? Yeah, well, you don't want to be seen hanging out with me and personally you would cramp my style, no offense. We are gonna meet up in that alley after the classes. Bring as much shit you can find, and don't try to mess with the doc, she can recognize fake. Oh, and bring some mainstream clothes that can cover you. You don't want to give the school some unwanted publicity and to be recognized. So you know, no Versace or shit, understood?"
As the Hyūga slowly nodded, Ino jumped to her feet and walked out of the stall towards her purse that was still waiting on the vanity of the bathroom. Fetching a cigarette, she brought it to her lips and the moment she wanted to light it with her pink lighter, the bell rung. Cursing, she threw her lighter and cigarette into her bag, not caring whether it would get crushed.
Turning around and throwing one last glance at the Hyūga, she only mumbled distantly:
"Fix yourself; you look like shit, baby."
And with those last words, she walked out of the bathroom stall, little aware that she had sealed her fate. And that of the little mouse she had found that day. Destiny had this way of making weird shit happen when you expected it the least. Maybe if Ino had never started to smoke, she would not have met knocked-up Hyūga Hinata and become the most used face of Vogue magazine a few years later.
The next afternoon, the two girls met up as had been decided. When Ino saw a white and lavender shape dressed in some outrageously disgusting black sweats, she couldn't refrain from pointing her finger and laughing hysterically. Under the heavy lavender hood that was covering her face, Hinata was blushing furiously.
Sending Ino a begrudging glance, she scanned her from head to toe. Yeah, well, way to make sure they got noticed big time. There was nothing more breathtaking than Yamanaka Ino in her everyday clothes. A tight black camisole with a shockingly revealing décolleté, a terribly short denim skirt, barely covering her butt, and high-heel sandals that made an already very tall Ino tower the street. She wasn't going for the kawai style, that was for sure. The way her naturally-golden hair was pulled into a high ponytail, her deep blue eyes were sending lightning around her as the two walked, in other words everything about her, screamed of sex.
For Hyūga Hinata, Yamanaka Ino had always been a sort of frightening mystery. She was a known delinquent. Well, as delinquent as top private high schools could produce. And she was weird-looking, a freak. Just like Hinata. With her angular face, her slanted blue eyes and electric blond hair, she was a strange contradiction. The meeting between West and East. She was definitely Japanese by the bone-structure of her face. But the color of her eyes and hair and her height that made more than one guy startle made her play in a completely different league. And no wonder no one really liked her.
But at the same time, Hinata admired her. Unlike herself, Yamanaka Ino did not take shit from anyone. She would have thrown a teacher out of a window if she had ever felt it necessary. And the way she walked at the moment, so self-assured, dressed as she saw fit, not caring for the shocked looks that followed their little march, made Hinata only envy her more. Little did she know at that moment that their meeting in the toilets had sealed their fate and that Hinata would always walk by Ino's side from that day on, following her every step, wherever it took them.
Pointing at what seemed like a high-class clinic; Ino simply indicated that was the place. Hokage Tsudnade, M.D., gynecologist. Well didn't that sound encouraging, but what choice did Hinata have? It shouldn't have happened the way it did in the first place and she couldn't do very much beside follow her classmate into the building. They were welcomed by an amiable woman who took Ino's name and asked them to wait for the doctor who would be available soon.
And before they could even park their butts, something alike an ad for Wonderbra strolled out of a room and planted itself right in front of Ino. Tsuande was grand, to say the least. Her rack was most probably listed in the Guinness Book of Records.
"You again?! You know, condoms are less expensive than a fucking abortion."
Did the doctor just use the f-word?! Hinata was starting to feel terribly dizzy. After all, she wasn't all that sure this was a good idea.
"Yo, old hag, this ain't for me. It is for my mousy, here."
With a movement of the head, Ino indicated Hinata and all the attention of the surprising doctor got focused on her. Cue to her starting to tremble.
"She can pay or ..?"
Of course. This was all about the payment. The world was about money, Hinata should have known that by then. Fastening her grip on her average-looking duffel bag, she tentatively nodded her head, wondering whether what she had brought would be sufficient for a payment. Surely, all the items she had brought were expensive, but they were everything but extravagant.
Arching a perfectly groomed eyebrow, the doc just shot a glance at the duffel bag.
"You are going to be paying with bling, eh? What did I expect from that delinquent's friends?"
"Oldie, cut the crap and let us vacuum her cookie jar so I can get out of here."
Hinata knew she would get out of that clinic traumatized and worried, and so she did. However, under all that pain, that feeling of betrayal, she did have, for a few minutes, someone to rely on. And that was more than she had ever had in her lifetime.
As they walked through the fashionable streets of Tokyo, heading to the closest subway station, Hyūga Hinata strangely wondered what it would feel like to have her hand held by Ino's. Whether that would bring back those feelings of childhood, when she was in kindergarten and always held the hand of a friend during field trips. When she had had friends and could easily laugh.
Ino's perfectly manicured and creamed hand was dangling by her bony hip, so near that Hinata could reach for it. She didn't feel good; she felt horribly empty, horribly alone and she wanted someone to hold her hand hard, to crush her bones and make her cry from pain. And before she could stop herself, her hand had reached for Ino's who turned her head swiftly back to view what it was that had dared interrupt her thoughts.
In any normal situation, she would have snatched the hand away and potentially punched Hinata. How weird was that, two chicks holding hands in the middle of a Tokyo-style crowd, with the late-afternoon sun in the background. Come on. But the other girl's expression told her to do something uncharacteristic for once. And so, instead of snatching away her own hand, she just grabbed Hinata's and held onto it for dear life.
And that is how they walked on. Two girls, holding each other's hand. Both were sickly slender and too tall to pass unnoticed, both were too strange. Maybe for the first times of their lives, those two girls felt like they were part of something, not only the outsiders of a world that didn't really want them.
At the subway station, they parted ways without a word. Hinata carried her now empty duffel bag back home while Ino was swaying her hips ever so softly and walking away as the Greek statue that she was.
Hyūga Hinata had been fifteen years old when she had gotten an abortion. She hadn't told anyone.
Flashback 2
Sure, it would have been expected that all of a sudden the ghostly Hyūga and the dangerous Yamanaka would have become inseparable friends. All normal people that went to the gynecologist to get an abortion and then walked through the city hand in hand would develop at least some type of mutual acknowledgment. Well, geez, neither of them could be called normal, could they?
Concerning Ino, she was a blooming 17-year old bitch with an attitude. Her circle of friends and herself had the average love-hate relationship. However, with age came experience, and what had previously been the games of children had become quite serious. Haruno Sakura and Yamanaka Ino had been in a true feud that would lead to catastrophic consequences. Eventually.
Hinata on the other hand had kept her life the way it had always been, inexistent. People still ignored her and tried to avoid by cautiously circling around her. No one cared for her, no one touched her. Her little cocoon was as comfortable as could be. However, even if she had been reassured by the fact that her little stint at the abortion clinic had never been discovered, she couldn't just do as if nothing had ever transpired between Ino and her.
Even if the two never talked or seemed not to even know each other, Ino never followed that ridiculous habit of trying to avoid passing by Hinata. She would just walk by her, acknowledging her with a glance. That glance was full of meaning for Hinata. A way to say that her secret was still sage and would remain so.
And so she lived on. But that very morning, when she had stepped into class gleefully (not that anyone would notice that), holding her bag to her chest and advancing towards her desk, as her classmates chattered on, laughed and chaffed one another. Her hair had grown and gave her an even gloomier aura so much so that sometimes her peers swore they felt a cold shiver whenever she walked in. But she didn't mind, she liked it that way. The peace and loneliness. She really did.
With utter care, she laid her duffel bag on her desk and turned her eyes to the clock above the classroom's door. She did have enough time. Her heart beating in her throat, it is with shaking hands that she retrieved a magazine. It had quite a bold cover of a provocative woman in black and white and was made of that wonderful glazed paper that spoke of quality. This little heap of glazed paper was the only reason she made it through the month. She lived for this.
She would have all the time to browse through the techniques, to read the interviews, to drool all over the ads later. Now was all about instant gratification. What she wanted was to see the results of the contest. Desperately leafing through the magazine, she did manage to attract the worried glances of some of her classmates. Never mind that!
Finally, as she got to the page she had been looking for, she almost fainted. Or worse, vomited all over herself. First place was Hiraoka Kimitake, with a black-and-white of some Kyoto punks chaffing around and sticking their tongues out. The picture was virtually flawless. The lighting, the pose, the angle. She couldn't but feel amazed at how lively the models looked and wonder how any photographer could be able to give such a sense of neatness and union to such an unruly ensemble. She had never been one for human models. The second place was a photo of Tokyo, colorful in the evening, with a throng of people walking like robots in one directions while fast sports cars drove by in the night leaving colorful trails of light behind. Pretty cliché as concept, but the picture truly was flawless when it came to technique.
And then, the third place. The third place obviously was not an exhibit of experience. There was nothing neat or harmonious about that photograph. A young hand had taken in. Not someone with life experience or someone in the industry, definitely. Not someone that sold. It was a simple black-and-white of Tokyo taken from what must have been the top of a building. It showed a much less glamorous side of the city, all grey in the morning and very alike a woman that just woke up. Untidy, unruly and with potential bad breath. But, there was something about the way the city gave in to the camera that had taken it. It made love to it.
Third place, Hyūga Hinata, Title: Industrial Imperium. Had Hinata been one to cry out with joy, they would have heard her all the way to Okinawa. This was it; she had broken through the underground exhibits, she had made it into the light of the day. She would not be an anonymous, marginalized photographer anymore.
And as the realization hit her, she was not anonymous anymore. The underground scene was good, those were artists, smuggling in weed, going through restaurant and supermarket trash and potentially sleeping in the streets. But as soon as you became known, your name was out there. There wouldn't be anyone that read photography magazines working for her father? Surely not, there wouldn't.
What had gotten into her, sending one of her photographs under her real name? That is what she had wanted to do and still felt this wonderful sensation of rebellion curling in the pit of her stomach. Yes, she had wanted to scream her name out to the world, she had wanted to get out of anonymity.
A crashing sound made her snap out of it. In front of her apocalypse had started. An attractive girl with the most extreme main of bubble-gum pink hair was screaming her lungs out at a six-foot something giant. Haruno Sakura was picking a fight with Yamanaka Ino again. But this time, it was close to an earthquake.
"We all know you get paid for the fuck, Yamanaka. I wonder what your rate is actually. How cheap are you, you filthy cokehead, huh? You get enough to pay your daily dose of snow?"
Snow? Fuck? Rate? What the hell was going on?!
"You want me to kick your face in again, Haruno? This time though not even the best plastic surgeon will be able to reconstruct you."
Hinata's ears started to buzz. The fight did end pretty fast without her having followed it and class did start. But a certain feeling of uneasiness persisted. There was something truly vicious in the way Haruno Sakura had to publicly attack Ino, something calculated and perfectly set. This was not going to simply stop and die down as their previous conflicts had.
And since Hinata seemed to have a death wish these days and also since she did have somewhat of a debt towards Yamanak Ino she took quite a shocking decision for a mousy like herself. She decided that stalking, yes, stalking, Haruno Sakura could be a good way to gather information about her. Just in case. And well, she did have to take some new pictures for some underground expo. She wanted something murky, bleak, maybe have a walk in the sex quarters. And that was maybe a little too bold for her.
Following Haruno Sakura had truly been one of those ridiculous loss-of-time situations where a girl was just too average to present any intellectual interest. Sakura could be summarized in one word: shopping. That was all she did virtually. That and buying magazines. Vogue, Cosmo, Entertainment Tonight and other American bullshit. Why she did that? Most probably because she had too much money and too little imagination.
At least, Hinata had believed this to be a loss of time until one night. She had planned on leaving her guard in front of Sakura's home, since 8 o'clock in the evening was truly not the hour to be patrolling one of Tokyo's chic suburbs (lucky it was one of those almost-summer days and there still as a lot of light outside). And what did you know? Sakura had marched out of her home dressed as if she were going for a Playboy shooting. Yup, yup, it was finally becoming interesting.
That is how Hinata had found herself hiding in some seedy alley, her professional camera snuggly fitted in her hands, taking shots of Haruno Sakura waiting in front of a Love Hotel, in the middle of the sex quarters of Tokyo.
Great, as soon as she was done with the lollipop-head she would be able to fight for her life and maybe, if she stayed alive and with her panties around her hips, she would be able to take some shots.
'No. Way.'
Hinata's breath hitched as she took some more pictures. Sakura didn't remain alone for a very long time. The lucky guy she had been waiting to get her through the doors of that high-class (aka seedy) Love Hotel appeared out of the blue. Click! Click! Some more pictures.
"Come on, mister, just turn around …" Hinata breathed in the dark.
And so he did, and before she could stop herself and let her jaw drop to the floor, her finger was frantically pushing a button and making as many shots as could be made. She regretted not having put it on automatic or having brought her flash with her. Had she only known!
But before she could even realize what she had seen, Haruno and her boy-toy had entered the hotel and disappeared from Hinata's reach. Well, the good news was that she had enough to drop the equivalent of an atomic bomb on their classroom. Har har, Hiroshima jokes. The bad news was that if she did not hurry her ass, she would miss the last subway and remained stuck in this place. And she was somehow doubtful she would reach the morning alive if she didn't get into that subway.
The next morning, it was a drowsy Hinata that had walked through the door of their classroom. She had spent the whole remainder of the night in her dark bathroom, developing photographs in her bathtub. She knew Neji would awaken to the smell of all the regents she used. She had fled before he had the time to do something to her. After all these years of general calm, she still had that fright of her cousin that poisoned her life.
Now, in her bag, with the photography magazine, she had a bunch of eight by ten photos, more compromising than something out of Entertainment Tonight. She had to show Ino. However, truth being said, she did not have the courage to so recklessly approach her in the middle of class. She wouldn't want to cramp her style, as Ino had once said. She would wait after classes, Ino left later than the rest of the students anyways.
It was with giddy excitement that Hinata had sneaked through the ranks of lockers once the school had been deserted and squatted in front of what she knew to be Ino's locker, her back to the door. She couldn't wait to show her what was in her large envelop. She thought she heard her voice, talking with someone.
As the voices got nearer and nearer, they also got louder.
"What about the fucking abortions you had? How many were there, Yamanaka? 3? Yeah, you think I didn't know about those?! Well guess what, you whore, I bet I could find all the guys who fucked you and make them give us some testimony. You'd like that?"
"What the fuck is your problem, Haruno? It is about Uchiha again, isn't it? Well, yeah, I fucked him. I did give him a wild ride and he loved it. But guess what, that happened three years ago, get over it. He wouldn't have taken you anyways and you know it. You should settle down for your puppy, that Uzumaki shit. Uchiha is in the US making a name for himself."
Haruno's voice got shrill with hysteria.
"Yeah, he might be. But you are here! I just wonder for how long once I am done with you."
Hinata obviously couldn't keep on listening to their trash talk. Ino had had abortions as well. That is why she had helped her, some years ago. She had known what it felt like. And Hinata could not let Haruno Sakura defile someone as nice as Ino had been to her. She had to fight back. But she was scared. What if Haruno started bullying her instead? What if she blew her cover and everyone started looking at her?
"You filthy, bug-ridden whore, you are going to pay for it …"
Enough. Hinata jumped to her feet and run out from behind the rank of lockers to face Haruno Sakura. From behind Ino, with as much courage as she could muster, she whispered:
"H-Haruno-san, please l-leave Yamanaka-s-san alone …"
As soon as she heard a known voice, Ino whipped her head around to stare at the ghostly apparition that was the tall Hyūga Hinata. Gosh, that chick could give a demon a scare. With her head bowed and all that thick black hair falling in front of her face she looked like something right out of The Ring or The Grudge.
"What the fuck is this? A convention? Hyūga, that's your name right? Get the fuck out of here before I take care of you too, you freak."
"Y-you can't. Or e-else …"
A demeaning snort escaped the pristine and perfect Haruno Sakura. She smacked her pink lips in disgust.
"Or else what, bitch? Do you fucking know what I am going to do to you first thing in the morning?"
Mustering up all the little courage she felt was left in her; she slowly and tentatively crossed the distance between herself and lollipop-head, under Yamanaka Ino's baffled stare. With shaking fingers, she opened the envelop she had been holding to her heart and retrieved picture by picture, flashing them in front of Haruno's eyes. As the pictures were dropped to the floor, the beautiful porcelain complexion of the bubble-gum haired girl became greener and greener until in a wail of hurt anguish she fell to her knees and started frantically picking up the pictures.
"T-those are just some copies … I have them in s-so many c-copies, that you would s-spend a lifetime p-picking them up. You e-ever do something to Yamanaka-s-san and I will make sure that you w-will never want to g-get out of your house again."
As soon as she had gathered all the pictures she could reach, Haruno stood up and ran away, her eyes full of tears. Truth being said, Hinata did not feel good about what she had done, but at the same time she could not imagine what would have happened if she had not done something to help Ino. Sakura was not known to throw out threats without following up on them. And there would be no need to do anything with those pictures besides keep them in a safe place, just in case. She wouldn't let them leak, for sure.
As a heavy hand placed itself upon her right shoulder, she jumped and turned on her hips, to be welcomed by the most flashy smile she had ever seen. Gosh did Yamanaka Ino have perfect white teeth.
"You know what? You, Hyūga, are a fucking badass. You should let the lion in you roar more often! That, just there, was grand."
Walking around Hinata she bent over and picked up a picture that had lodged itself under a locker. Raising it to her eyes, she let a low whistle escape her. Hinata wasn't sure but she thought she heard her mutter something along the lines of atomic bomb.
"You took this pic?"
Turning the photograph around, she showed Hinata a pretty fetching scene of a young, pink-haired girl and a middle-aged man, holding hands, faces turned towards the lens as if sensing someone was spying on them while they walked towards the flapping doors of a Love Hotel.
As Hinata nodded, Ino's eyes lit up like Christmas and her mouth slowly stretched into a worrying predatory smile. Cue to Hinata shivering. Little did the mousy know that Yamanaka Ino just had the idea that would kick them into a sphere of life that Hinata had never dreamt about, least of all yearned for.
"You're good, mousy; you're damn good at this. Almost a professional …Who would've thought that Haruno got stuffed by the math teacher. But hey, where did you come by that talent for photography? You could publish this shit."
Aw, come on, no one was immune to some flattery, especially when it came from a vulgar spirit such as Ino's. Hinata must have been real good if even someone like Ino, who couldn't have an idea about what a good shot was, could recognize it. Or she was really mediocre but Ino wouldn't have known the difference. Fuck that, she very much felt like blushing and bragging a little bit of her own.
"Oh, I always liked p-photography. Actually I j-just got my first published s-shot. I was third in a Japan w-wide contest …"
It felt so strange to have someone to tell this. She knew Ino wouldn't speak if she asked her not to. Ino had already proven extensively that she could keep delicate secrets. However, the strange, penetrating and unpromising look Ino was giving her did make her heart beat faster and her mouth go dry. There was something seductive in those deep blue eyes that seemed to be lighted from within.
Walking towards her, Ino gave her the most alluring smile she could. Oh, how this mousy was easy to read and honestly, she would have never thought how useful it was to do one good deed in one's life and have it remembered forever. Yes, Hinata would be a useful mousy. And maybe, just a little, did Ino feel lonely and wanted to have a friend who would do crazy things for her (like stalking a real bitch all the way to a Love Hotel and taking snapshots of her little escapade, for example) without asking anything in exchange.
Grabbing the Hyūga's small, fine hand she darted towards her locker.
"Let's get your bag and run for it. I ain't gonna be late."
Pulling Hinata violently along, with a giddy laugh, Ino just wondered whether shit would be ok after all. She was one lucky bitch, wasn't she? Whenever she wanted something desperately, it had this way of falling into her lap. She felt like howling to the school's ceiling.
"W-where are we going, Yamanaka-s-san?"
"Drop that Yamanaka-san shit, the name's Ino. Remember it well. You'll hear it every day in a few years from now. Let's go, hurry, hurry. You'll have the immense honor of making me dinner tonight. The oldies are off to some business trip in France and won't be back for a few weeks and I am sick of eating ramen."
And so, after having nipped Haruno's plans in the bud, they ran away into the afternoon. One was giddy in a very opportunist way the other simply relieved that she did not get her teeth punched out by a rabid crazy-woman. Little the two of them know, where this discovery of Hinata's hidden talent for photography would lead them to the other side of the world and that they would become paper dolls, glazed dreams for naïve little girls. And honestly, at the moment, the only thing they did care about was how to catch the earliest subway they could.
Flashback 3
It was amazing how Ino could be vain, honestly. She went about staring at herself critically in nothing but a cotton thong. A girl that had a huge Italian Renaissance mirror in her room could be nothing least of obsessed with her appearance. But at least, the good with Ino was that she wasn't all conceited about it. On the contrary, she seemed pretty insecure, always looking for a flaw to correct with plastic surgery.
Lying on Ino's princess-pink carpet, Hinata leafed through the pages of the latest Vogue, examining the ads with the same critical eye Ino used to examine herself. It didn't feel strange anymore to have Ino prancing naked all around her. In fact, it felt strangely pleasurable.
Yamanaka Ino had one of those perfect bodies that enticed anyone, without discrimination based on gender or sexual orientation. There was something contradictory about how the fine bones of her face, shoulders, elbows, wrists and hips stood out, so much so that their color could be almost seen under that flesh so thin and pale, while at the same time the flesh on her breast, rear and lips was full and inviting. There was nothing more provoking to Hinata than when a long strand of pale hair would slide down her shoulders and come lodge itself between Ino's breasts.
No wonder Yamanaka Ino was able to use that body as a weapon against those with taste. But there weren't that many men that did have the courage to pursue her taking in account that with her one hundred eighty-two-centimeter height, she towered almost every Japanese man and that she certainly wasn't cheap. You wouldn't get her on her knees unless you had something big to give her (and it had nothing to do with how endowed you were). Something that she could use to move further.
Irritated, she turned towards the Hyūga sprawled on her carpet.
"Vogue is shit, look at the Los Angeles magazine! He's in it. For fuck's sake can you imagine he made it?"
Hinata simply kept on staring with amazement at Ino's silhouette. Had she known anything about angels beside what she read about Victoria Secrets she would have believed Ino to be one. Noticing her admiration, Ino let that slow, lazy smile spread across her lips and her eyelids fall ever so slightly.
There were some conquests that were truly more flattering than others. Some guy she could get to look at her in such a way anytime. But having Hyūga Hinata, the girl that had been smitten with that douchebag Uzumaki Naruto, staring at her with carnal appreciation was a real ego-booster. She could conquer anyone and everyone, Ino knew so much now. And little did she care that it was the artist in Hinata that she was in fact enticing.
Snapping out of it, Hinata let Vogue begrudgingly slide from her fingers. And she was looking at this amazing Dior perfume ad, too. But to humor Ino, since she honestly didn't need a full blown atomic explosion, she grabbed Los Angeles magazine and went directly to the page she knew would give her a major depression. The list of the most promising fashion photographers. Knowing her name wasn't in it would give her a huge case of the envies.
And of course, who was number one on the list? Uchiha Sasuke, a Japanese prodigy, only eighteen years old. Yes, he had made it big. However, he wasn't there yet. Hinata simply had to turn the page to see the face of the moment. And she wondered who it would be this year. Who was the talent of the year? Nonchalantly turning the page, she was greeted with the most fascinating face she had ever seen. High cheekbones, thin lips, a shock of short vine-colored hair and those eyes! Eyes so pale, ever so pale, of a strange aquamarine color, so close to her own. But his eyes were rimmed by black circles, those one gets when they don't sleep and smoke cigarette after cigarette looking for their inspiration.
Who was he? Gaara Sabaku-No (Gaara being his little name), twenty years old, mother Spanish supermodel, father Egyptian investment banker, brother rock star and sister known model. The discovery of the century, an artist, a genius. He made love to the camera and the models alike, so they said. And maybe, maybe one day she would have her face sprawled in such a magazine as well … she hoped not, she was far from ornamental, especially when compared to that lot of pretty boys.
She had never thought about it seriously. Becoming a photographer, that is. Especially not a fashion photographer. That wasn't her domain. She would study Economics at the University of Tokyo as her father had, as her cousin did and as her younger sister would.
"You know that would be a waste" a soft voice whispered by her ear, blowing into it.
She jumped and realized that Ino was sprawled beside her, her lips millimetres from her ear. She was so close; Hinata could breathe in her fruity perfume. Softly tilting her head towards Hinata, Ino let her cheek rest on hers. She had gotten to understand and know Hinata, to feel protective towards her. And worried.
"For fuck's sake, bitch. Don't look at me with those eyes of yours. I always know what you're thinking. You're thinking about your father. You know you gonna go crazy at TokyoU, you know it ain't no place for you. You were made to be behind the camera."
Turning around, her naked body exposed to the ceiling with its ridiculous princess-chandelier, Ino let a sigh of contentment escape her. She still had dreams. And Hinata just became intrinsically mixed to them. It was amazing how fast Ino got hooked to Hyūga Hinata, to the point that she needed her as much as she needed her daily dose of coke.
"Y'know what would be my dream? You behind and me in front of the camera. Together, forever."
Hinata chuckled, turning her eyes to Ino's face, admiring her cheekbones, the side of her strong, straight nose. It was strange how she could feel at ease with someone, when she, Hyūga Hinata, had never had anyone close to her, anyone to rely on.
"We already have that, you k-know. You behind and me in front of the c-camera."
Ino's breathing became erratic at once. She fucking knew what that meant. It couldn't be.
"I c-chose the one that were as f-flawless as could be. You know it is always m-more difficult when you d-don't have all the material necessary. But they aren't too bad."
Jumping into a squatting position, Ino grabbed Hinata by the ears and almost screamed to murder of joy.
"Where, where, where, where?! Fucking where?!"
Letting Ino's joy take over her, Hinata forgot how strong her grip was on her ears and let a river of laughter wash over her.
"Ow, ow, ow. Stop it, Ino. It's in m-my bag, m-my b-bag! Let go of m-my ears."
And so she did let go and jumped, virtually naked, onto Hinata's bag and tore it open in a frenzy. And there it was. A black, leather-bound portfolio, the type that fitted eight-by-ten photographs and that models brought with them on go-sees. On its cover a name was stamped in gold Latin letters. Ino Yamanaka.
Falling inelegantly on her butt, she all but started to cry as she leafed through the portfolio. The girl she was seeing was not herself, or better to say it was herself. The real her. Without make-up, without the attitude. The vulnerable, sweet Ino in some candid snaps. The arrogant, ominous one in others. Ino through all her emotions. Walking in the street, back to the camera. Barefoot in the kitchen. Clad in a simple white dress, seated on the living room couch and pensively looking through a delicate window. How many classes did they skip (with Hinata keeping her marks on the top), how many tantrums of Hinata did she have to go through (Hyūga Hinata was a hysteric screamer and a hefty insulter)!
And just how many photos did Hinata take, develop in her bathroom under a horrible red light, surrounded by acid fumes and then discarding thousands of them to just keep what was precious. But more importantly, greater than everything, greater than the opportunity she was being handed by having a portfolio always at hand, was how the photos looked. They were not the standard portfolio pictures of beginnings; bleak and shallow only meant to underline a girl's physique. They were pictures one would look at in magazines. Sure, your average body and head shots were included but there was nothing average about them actually. This was the way Hinata saw her, experienced her.
And one day the world would look at her with those same eyes, she knew. And she would be loved. Then she would be loved.
Done leafing through her portfolio, Ino jumped to her feet and motioned for Hinata to stand up. Since Ino was not one to be refused, especially when her eyes gleamed like those of a cat in the night, Hinata did carefully raise from the ground. And before she had the time to realize what was happening, a soft pair of lips were plastered across her own. She knew she should have taken a step away, ran away, screamed, hit, clawed. But, she didn't. Her eyes remained big in confusion, her heart beat in her throat, her stomach was all in nods, however she did not pull away from Ino.
In the end the two of them were the same. Two little rich girls, fucked up in their core looking for nothing but some affection, some love to make them feel less like disposable teens.
As she took a step back, her eyes gleaming like diamonds, Ino softly raised a hand to touch the base of Hinata's neck. How Hinata seemed small to her and yet giant to the rest of the world. At one seventy-eight, Hinata was easily the height of an average Japanese man. The skin under Ino's hand was perfectly supple and soft, however what truly was of interest was what Hinata was hiding under her always oversized clothes. Her hand on Hinata's shoulder told her that there were more bones than flesh to be discovered under all that fabric.
Ever so delicately, her eyes riveted on Hinata's, Ino started unbuttoning the white school blouse, careful not to touch the fabric underneath it. It was a wonder why someone like Hinata always wore such large blouses over layers of long-sleeved shirts, as if in a constant freeze. Winter or summer, Hyūga Hinata always looked from afar like the freaking Michelin Man with slightly less rolls of fat (not that she wasn't trying). But Ino, Miss Shallow, knew better than to believe what her eyes saw at first glance.
And so as the blouse slid over Hinata's shoulders to reveal an oversized white shirt, Ino had no qualms at grabbing the hem of said shirt and pulling it over Hinata's head without ceremony. But with a great deal of struggling. The charm was broken and the shy, prude Hyūga became aware of the fact that she was being stripped bare. Flawing arms and the muffled screams of a butchered pig were Ino's response. In the end, since it is Ino we are talking about, she did end up with the shirt in her hand.
Hinata's porcelain skin became tomato red, one could have fried and egg on her cheeks. Her arms folded defensively around her chest, she would have rather been road-kill than being driven over by Ino's critical glance.
Shivering ever so slightly, Hinata threw Ino what she believed to be a reproachful glare while Ino, lower lip between her perfect pearl-white teeth, had to muster all her self-control not to explode with laughter. And it wasn't Hinata's body that was bringing all that mirth, but that prudish attitude that Ino had always been devoid of.
"C'mon, now, don't look at me as if I killed your dog, for crying out loud. Come here."
Motioning over to her, a partially naked Hinata approached a mostly naked Ino, because … curiosity killed the cat. She had never truly been able to say no to that overflow of energy (that was mostly due to an abuse of cocaine that came from God knew where). But most of all, she needed to be loved by someone as extravagant, lively and beautiful as Yamanaka Ino. The closest she could ever get to Uzumaki Naruto, he knew.
Turning her to the Venetian mirror that she had imported from Italy, Ino softly unfolded Hinata's arms.
"Look at yourself."
"N-no."
A soft sweep of her hair, left Hinata's shoulder unprotected from Ino's bite. As her teeth sunk into Hinata's shoulder, the Hyūga let out a whimper of pain. Passing her tongue over the wound, Ino shot a threatening glare to the girl in the mirror. She disliked being disobeyed.
"Your reflection won't bite your ass, just take a look."
Nuzzling her neck ever so softly, after the stringent bite, Ino's deep, lazy voice sounded seductive and dark. She was the type of woman that could pervert a saint and sanctify a sinner. Whenever she desired something, it is as if she were able to enter that person's brain and from the inside, manipulate him or her into doing whatever she damn well pleased. And so, hypnotized and dizzied, Hinata did as she was told.
Carefully, cautiously, her eyes raised to those of the reflection. And she did look at herself, tears threatening to fall down her dark eyelashes. She would never be able to see any beauty in her bony shoulders and arms, in her ribs that stood out obscenely under that waxy white skin. However, the clairvoyant eyes of a Yamanaka Ino could acknowledge a potential rival in her dearest and most loved friend.
With her chin settled on Hinata's shoulder, she felt a certain pleasure looking at the crimson hue of the Hyūga's cheeks and the tears that threatened to be spilled every instant. She had to prove to her rebellious little Hyūga that she, Ino, owned her. Body and soul. Calmly, hooking one of her long fingers under the strap of Hinata's bra she let it slide down her arm.
With that grimace of pleasure spread over her flawless features, Ino looked like a tyrannical demon, Hinata decided. She would have wanted to push her aside, to liberate herself from those prying fingers that travelled the skin of her arm. The breathe that caressed her neck was strangely cool as the eyes that looked at her in the mirror.
"Come with me, Hinata …"
How to refuse when you felt that there was someone else in your head trying to force your hand in accepting.
"W-where?"
She was becoming numb, soon her knees would give in and she would fall on the ground like an abandoned heap of flesh. The voice that was whispering to her ear became distorted.
"You know where. Come with me, y'know you want to …"
'No.'
"We already talked about it. I told you that it will be easy since I have the US citizenship. We just fill out a few forms, bring some pictures and you will be able to come with me …"
A soft lick to her neck, while Ino's hand clawed at her arm. Softness and cruelty in one woman. It would be so easy to say yes and forget about everything else. There was no chance that they would make it though, and not only because their parents would hunt them down, one way or the other. And even if they did succeed in getting out of Japan, there was no guarantee they would be able to realize their dreams. How many girls were there in the world that flocked L.A. to try and make it happen in the Industry.
"Freedom is a dream worthy to be realized as well …"
Hinata wanted to scream at her: 'Get out of my head.' But that would have led to nothing. Once Ino was in, she simply spread like a rash until your will was subdued to hers. She was like a parasite of some sorts and Hinata loved it.
Truth being said, as all weak characters, the only thing Hinata needed was someone to convince her and to take away all responsibility from her choices. She wanted to be convinced but without standing behind her choices. If she said yes, it would only be because Ino had been insistent, manipulative and malicious.
As Hinata's shoulders slumped, Ino's carnivorous smile only stretched to resemble that of the Cheshire Cat's. Some conquests were truly more worth making than others.
Ino's clawing hand finally released Hinata's bruised hand, to attack her ribs with a silky caress. Travelling upwards, the hand reached its destination as Hinata's breath hitched. Ever so slowly, a finger traced the edge of the bra cup, while the pulp lips of the blond demon placed themselves directly over Hinata's ear.
"You know you want to."
Those were the last words spoken before the hand disappeared under the sturdy cotton of Hinata plain bra.
Some things were to be done rather than said to make someone give in to pressure.
Flashback 4
'Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.'
Yamanaka Ino had never been one to know when not to take things too far. Well, it was too late for her to bitch'n'moan over passed decisions. She had some money, a high school diploma and her passport. Fucking good enough. And she had told him if he spoke about what had gone down this evening, she would tell the world how when she was twelve he sneaked into her room and fucked her while she screamed for her mom, wo was in Paris at the time.
She had always fucking hated her stepfather. But what did you expect when her own father did not want to know shit about her and her mother spent her time drinking and accusing her for every dumb shit that went down in her life, when she wasn't on the other side of the world. No wonder her stepfather had seen an invitation in raping her the first time he got a chance to.
She needed a smoke and a track of snow. Badly. The asshole had gotten what he deserved tonight. She only regretted not having settled the score by cutting his throat, or at least aimed much lower. When she came back from Milan, her mother would have a lot of stitching work to do, but hey that was her job to begin with. And had she had any feelings for her daughter, her being a designer could have permitted for Ino to enter the Industry and not force her to go about fucking old geezers in exchange of money and connections.
But it wasn't fair to accuse only her mother. Her father, the photographer of all times, Giacomo de Cecco, could have asked about her, wondered what was happening to her instead of sending her mother some obscene amounts of money just to keep her trap shut. The only good thing that had come out of him was the shiny American passport that was comfortably hidden in her backpack.
It was starting to rain and she hoped like fuck none of the bourgeois and nouveaux riches families of the neighborhood would peak from behind their lace curtains to look at Yamanaka-san's daughter walking frantically in a disgusting pair of black sweats. No one would care that they were Juicy Couture. Or that Juicy was plastered in huge pink letters on her bony ass.
Oh for fuck's sake, someone was coming her way in the middle of the evening while it was raining. And from afar it seemed like her favorite Michelin Man. Of course, who else could ignore the simplest instruction of waiting for her to wait at a precise downtown Tokyo subway station.
"Hinata …" Ino hissed "The fuck you're doing here?! I told you where to wait for me."
Grabbing the sleeve of her that ridiculous white and lavender hoodie she had been wearing the first time they went out together – for Hinata to get an abortion, if anyone cared, Ino dragged her away, not waiting to hear any explanations. They would have time for all that bullshit later. Now was all about getting their asses out of here and into the anonymous crowds walking through the streets of downtown Tokyo, hoping for something to happen in their miserable, empty lives.
And Ino did not much care for Hinata until they were seated in a subway wagon, damp and shivering.
"Take off that hood, Hina, it is soaked. We'll get a fucking cold before we even leave this dumb country."
Since the mousy little (as in little for Ino) Hyūga did not seem to care answering, Ino lifted her hand to tear off the hood when she got it tapped away by Hinata. Someone was twitchy tonight. But since Ino was known to be insistent to say the least, she grabbed Hinata's wrist and before the Hyūga had any time to cry out, her hood was down and Ino was gasping shocked.
She had something to see indeed. The beautiful, usually unmarred porcelain skin of Hyūga Hinata was covered in horrid bruises. They were going through the complete color spectrum, from purple to greenish red. The pulp pink lips were engorged with blood and cracked. Her cheekbones were ravaged and her left eye was so swollen Ino was sure she couldn't see because of the monstrously oversized eyelid. And since Ino was one to beat the truth out of people.
As Hinata averted her eyes, Ino carefully, with the tips of her fingers, lifted her bruised chin. Their life was so fucked up, wasn't it? And yet, how many girls in the world would have exchanged with them?! Fucked up, so fucked up.
"I a-am not pregnant t-this time. Don't worry …"
Intertwining her fingers with Hinata's, Ino looked through the window and into the blackness of the night. They couldn't see any trees or other such things; it was truly way too dark outside.
Focusing on Ino's white sweater, Hinata noticed strange red smudges on the sleeves. Turning what was left of her curious gaze to Ino's, she almost provoked an outburst of laughter in her. Come on, how many chicks with a tumefied face could stare inquisitively at someone's clothes?! With the same seductive voice that she used to convince, Ino whispered for only Hinata to hear (since they were the only ones in the subway anyways):
"I stabbed him in the shoulder. Stabbed him till he was screaming on the floor. I tried to bleed the pig. It is difficult to bleed someone to death. But at least, I told him that if he tried to say a fucking word about it to anyone, in other words the police, he would end up with his face on a newspaper's frontpage and with his business up his ass. But now I regret I didn't come by to kidnap you the right way. Maybe it would have been easier to bleed Neji to death. He isn't as fat as that old shit."
At those vindictive words, Hinata tried to smile but it came out as a horrible grimace. Well, you did what you could with what you had. At least, they were sure Neji would not give them up for a few more days. He needed to find a way to make it all sound Hinata's fault and it wasn't in his interest, if Hinata did show her face again, for her father to come down from Kyoto and see all the bruises he had made on her face. A few days were enough for them to be the fuck out of here. Sure, Hyūga Hiashi, who pulled the strings of one of the largest Japanese telecom companies, would easily find his daughter wherever she was in the world.
But, even that would take some time, and by the time he did get to her, he wouldn't want to take her back and wouldn't dare do anything against her. She would make it too compromising for him.
"Hey, snap out of it, beauty queen."
Ino's ironies were the best bittersweet remedies for any type of spleen. Still holding hands, they exited the subway and headed for the streets of Tokyo. They were welcomed by lights, giggles, punks, girls looking for someone to pull along in a dark alley. This was Tokyo at night. And of course, as usual, they were the center of attention. Mocking glances, pointed fingers. They were the freakiest freaks of this nightly freakshow.
The masses of night owls that passed by them made Ino careful with their things. She knew the streets better than her own room. But they had a goal, they weren't just some other girls, either dressed like dolls or tanned as if they were BBQed chicken, that were doing the streets or some bitches looking for their daily doses (well, Ino would get her track if she were damned).
"That's where we are going."
Pointing her finger to one of those luxurious twenty-storied apartment blocks, Ino clicked her tongue. Hinata just felt her a spasm go through her hand. Well, the building was one of those postmodern wannabes that was inhabited by richy rich hipsters. Hinata had a natural gagging reflex. Coming from an old-money family, she couldn't stand any type of pseudo-intellectualism. It was a wonder she had any interest in the very shallow art of postmodern photography and all the currents of pseudo-intellectualism attached.
Running across the street, begging to Heaven not to get driven over and becoming road-kill, Ino and Hinata took refuge under the entrance's roof. From the inside, a doorman was getting ready to shoo them away, but Ino was faster and pushed the button beside a name Hinata could not discern because of the darkness.
"Who is this?"
A distorted, annoyed was heard through a speakerphone. Pushing another button by the speakerphone, Ino drawled a falsely happy greeting. A silence ensued before a juicy invective was dropped on the other side of the speakerphone and a buzzing sound was heard. Sticking her tongue out to the doorman who was sending her a threatening glare, she pulled the front door open and ushered Hinata into parlor decorated in the shabby-chic style. Hinata almost had an aesthetical heart-attack.
Pushing her damp hair over her shoulder, Ino simply cheekily smiled at the old man who was most probably pondering about how they were call-girls and defiling their beautiful, chic building. Well, old man, if you asked Hinata's superior judgment, she wouldn't put up with so much lack of taste. Her inner snob was worried it would get her old converse filthy by walking the perfect marble floor.
Grabbing onto Hinata's hoodie, Ino just pulled her abruptly into an elevator. An elevator covered in corny red velvet with a steward dressed in just as corny and outfit.
"Penthouse, 19th level."
Way of being brusque, Ino.
The only thing they missed, according to Hinata was an oversized, overperfumed woman and some elevator music. The situation wasn't corny enough.
The steward would from time to time throw them a suspicious, worried glance, most probably, just like the doorman wondering what Hoshigaki-sama was doing, calling girls to him at this time of the hour, especially this weird pair. The man was known to be a pretty popular Japanese modelling agent. He had girls prancing in and out of his apartment at all times of the day. But not girls that were two meters tall at least and looked like hoboes.
Uncomfortable little elevator trip. But even the most uncomfortable situation had to come to an end and when the doors did open, Hinata simply hurried passed the steward and into what seemed to be another huge entrance parlor. And in the middle of the parlor stood a man. The type that couldn't be bypassed in the streets if you wanted too. Everything about him was larger than nature (and when I say everything, I mean everything).
Taking a surprised step back, Hinata walked right into Ino. A soft squeeze to her shoulder and she turned her head around.
"Yamanka Ino."
"Hoshigaki Kisame."
She didn't add a honorific. Ino did not add a honorific. Cue to Hinata starting to hyperventilate. Maybe it was true what Ino had said a few years ago. She would sell her off to a prostitution ring. And this guy would be the pimp.
"Who's the ghost there?"
Ino simply pushed Hinata aside and walked right up to the man. For the first time in a long while, a guy was towering over her. At one ninety, Hoshigaki Kisame could tower anyone and everyone wherever in the world. Pale, almost bluish skin, blondish hair and eyes that visited you in your nightmares, of a brown so pale they were yellow. Hokkaido has this way of producing freaks. He had the feel of a shark. And when he opened his mouth to flash them a grimace of a smile, Hinata believed her knees would give in.
"Let's go to the living room."
Walking through the parlor and into the living room, they were welcomed by minimalist decoration, in the tones of white and black.
A low glass table, a black leather couch and on the white walls, pictures of girls. Plenty of black-and-whites of girls. Those were most probably his working girls. Hinata felt her throat close up. She was in trouble.
"I would offer your girls to sit, but I am worried you will ruin the couch, no offense."
His voice was deep and mocking and did not match the carnivorous shine of his eyes. But Ino did not much take the insult to hard and simply let herself fall on the wooden floor. His black wood panels covered in lacquer would be ruined then, he made his choice.
"So …" Ino drawled.
Straightening his pristine white shirt he sat down on his couch, following Hinata with his eyes as she walked towards Ino and sat by her, her legs under her. She reminded him of a kitten in some ways and he had a certain curiosity to see that girl Ino was bringing along with her. If she just could let that hood of her down.
"Well, he will meet up with you when you get there. Your pictures were decent; the videos we sent of you were good too. You enter well the new trend of all-American exotic. But, you've got to fend for yourself there. You won't get any help and no need to call me, as soon as you are out of the country, you're off my plate."
Letting a cascade of laughter escape, Ino shook her damp hairr, looking at the man provocatively.
"I came here to dry my documents and get a track, have a good night's sleep and a free Wi-Fi, is all. You owe me that much, KiKi."
Turning her head from one side to the other, she examined the girls on the pictures. All mediocre Japanese starlettes and models. Nothing huge, big.
"How does it feel, tell me, to know you have discovered a model that will make it big, unlike the shit you work with on an everyday basis."
A rumble low in his throat reverberated through the room. Was he growling or laughing? Whatever, Hinata did still prepare for a deluge of insults. Peaking from under her hood, she wondered at the difference between men. Her father had always been uninterested, austere and cold. Neji had too, but to his generally cold character implied a short fuse and a necessity to dominate that made him prone to outbursts. But this man, Hoshigaki Kisame, had the feel of someone swimming through life calmly until sensing blood and then attacking and tearing his prey into pieces.
That is how in the long run he did get to those girls. All pretty idiots with low self-confidence believing they made a difference singing dumb songs and appearing on the front covers of low-class magazines. In fact, Hinata admired him in some ways. This was a man that did the strict minimum and lived off of the dreams and the hopes of other people. The perfect parasite.
"Fuck you, Hoshigaki, I'll succeed."
Another soft laugh ensued.
"Ino-chi, let me get you the most important thing and then you and your fiancée, or whatever she is, can get a shower, abuse my Wi-Fi as much as you want and get the fuck out of here in max two days. This isn't a shelter for abused chicks, if you see what I mean."
Standing up swiftly, he disappeared into the parlor again, leaving Ino tapping her foot on the wooden floor. She didn't dare to turn around to face Hinata, she simply couldn't. Two days were enough for all the shit in the world to happen when she was with her soon-to-be ex-agent and pusher.
When he came back, he softly approached Hinata under Ino's threatening glare and dropped a white t-shirt that smelled of expensive cologne and what seemed to be a pair of boxers that sent Hinata's pressure sky-high. Squatting in front of her, he swiftly pulled off her hood, ignoring Ino's protests.
"What a waste. What a terrible waste. She could be good as well."
Good? For what?
Before he could explain his thoughts, he was standing with Ino pressed intimately against his chest.
"Don't touch other people's property and hand over what I need."
Whom was she possessive of, Hinata wondered. Herself or that man that had come so close to her? Besides Neji, she had never had a man standing so close and saturating the air she breathed with expensive, male cologne. And besides the words she got from Ino, it was the first time someone had said she was good for something.
Ino's hand went to the buckle of his belt as he held up what seemed to be a little plastic pouch filled with something white. Hinata knew what it was. But it was the first time she saw what Ino did to get to it. It made her feel so tired to look at them.
Throwing her a dismissive glance, Ino simply whispered:
"Go take a shower Hina, take the stairs in the parlor. Hallway to your right, last door to your left."
Not wanting to be stuck looking at their acts that were becoming frenetic, Hinata grabbed onto the clothes she had been handed, let her bag slide from her shoulders and raced out of the room. Ino, tomorrow, would ask for forgiveness and try to coax her out of her shell, she knew. But when she needed her dose, there was nothing else that mattered than instant gratification.
Letting her knees give in on the stairs, Hinata slid down, muffling a whimper with her hand at the noises that were coming from the living room. This could be the penthouse of a known agent, but it felt so dirty, ever so dirty. The image of Ino inhaling her snow on the transparent glass of the low table made her stomach churn.
She did eventually stand up and headed towards the bathroom as instructed. Everything to avoid hearing the noise of beasts mating.
Two more days. Two more days before life.