Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.
"When you get older, plainer, saner, will you remember all the danger we came from?"
— LP, "Lost on You"
Seeing as she's been abandoned by pretty much every friend she could call her own tonight, Ino finds her solace in the bottom of a shot glass.
If it's in a speakeasy well, all the better. What Papa doesn't know certainly won't hurt him in the slightest.
Is it too much to ask that she be allowed to determine her own fate? Is it too much to ask?
Unfortunately, Ino Yamanaka was born to money, so she doesn't get a say in who she marries. Or at least, that had been the gist of her most recent conversation with Papa. Which is, of course, why she has to seek solace at the bottom of a shot glass. She has no desire to marry anyone, much less her childhood best friend Shikamaru Nara and had told Papa so to no avail.
He must be regretting giving her such a long leash now. Ino's got such a long leash that she's considering running off to Kumo. Then, it's not a serious consideration in the slightest. She's too spoiled to survive a day away by herself and loves Papa far too much to ruin him so.
So, so, she's drowning her sorrows with giggle water in a speakeasy, because back when she was sixteen she was madly in love with Shika, but in the years intervening, her childhood daydreams and such, Shikamaru had fallen in love with a woman from Suna who suited him well, and she'd learned to put her love on the top shelf. Though what she's doing now isn't much better than running off if she's being honest with herself, which she most resolutely isn't.
Outside, thunder rolls. Some new jazz tune that they're playing behind the bar picks up, the wail of the violin cutting through her thoughts like a dull butter knife.
"Hey there, Pretty. Whatcha doin' tonight?"
She looks up blearily at the stranger who'd dropped onto the barstool beside her. "Nothing you need to know about." Just what she needs, a man at least a decade her senior out for a night of fun.
The man wiggles his eyebrows in a suggestive manner. "Or should I say, who you're doing tonight?"
"Get lost." Ino snaps at him. "I'm not interested."
"Now then, Honey." The stranger leans in. "That's not very nice is it?" He sets his hand on her knee and waves at the barkeep. "Let me buy you a drink."
"No." She removes his hand from her thigh in much the same manner she'd remove a dead mouse the cat dragged in. "I don't want you to buy me a drink."
"Don't test me, Pretty." He leers at her and puts his hand back. "I'm—" What? Armed? Dangerous? A stupid creep who needs to get lost?
Ino considers hazily, what to do about her current situation. She really hasn't come up with a plan but—
"Hands off my girl." Another voice drawls slowly, lazily, but with an unmistakably dangerous edge. "Or I'll remove it for ya, permanent like."
Both Ino and the creep turn towards the voice. It belongs to a young man in a sleek, fitted, sky blue three-piece. A cigarette dangles from his lips; he wears no hat — how absolutely scandalous, Ino thinks — and spats of slate gray felt over his shiny black leather boots.
He would look like a dandy, except he's watching them with narrowed dark eyes and two unmistakable triangle tattoos over his sharp cut cheekbones. Bootlegger. Ino's mind handily supplies. And by the cut of his clothing and those face tattoos, one with a lot of money and complete disregard for the law. Who else would be brazen enough to have facial tattoos?
She might make it her life's mission to be a rebel, wear sheer dresses that show her knees and go out to speakeasies even when it's by herself, but she's never met an honest to goodness bootlegger before. Strange, they tend to not draw so much attention to themselves like this — sky blue three-piece and all.
"Well," the young man drawls. "Are ya going ta listen ta my good advice and scram or what?" He shakes his suit cuffs back, and Ino notes a flash of gold — real gold cufflinks glitter in the dim light. He looks like he's dressed for a night out to some high end club or opera house, not here, in this dim lit underground bar.
The creep steps off of the barstool and swaggers over. "I'm gonna to say no. Whatcha gonna do about it?"
In the meantime, Ino downs another shot. If there's going to be a pissing contest in front of her between a bootlegger and a regular creep, she's not going to deal with it sober.
"Well now," the bootlegger looks over at Ino. For a split second, their eyes meet, and she thinks she sees flecks of gold in their dark depths. It's a most disconcerting experience that she chalks up to having too much to drink. "I guess I'll just have ta make ya apologize ta my girl."
The creep throws the first punch, but the bootlegger moves far too fast for some common drunk to take out. There's a spray of blood, which somehow doesn't land on that marvelously fashionable three-piece, a sharp crack of something that sounds like bone, and a pained scream. It's all over before Ino can finish her second glass.
The bootlegger's broken the creep's arm and his nose without so much as getting a strand of his slicked back hair out of place.
"Now, I bet you're all good and sorry like." The bootlegger growls as he drags the creep towards her. "'Pologize proper now, for messin' around with a lady."
"I'm sorry!" The broken man on the floor blubbers as he cradles his broken arm.
Ino sees the insincerity in his eyes though and turns up her nose as much as she's able without bothering her aching head. "Not accepted." Tomorrow's going to hurt like a bitch.
Out of the corner of her eye, she notes the shocked silence that's fallen over the speakeasy. The rest of the patrons are frozen in place.
The bootlegger notices how much attention they've drawn too, because he rubs the back of his neck, suddenly more like a schoolboy with his pink cheeks than a dangerous criminal. "Heya, Sweetheart. Sorry 'bout the trouble, but we need ta quit this place real fast if we don't wanna spend the night in a holding cell."
It takes a moment for Ino to recognize that he's speaking to her. It takes another moment for her to register the sound of the sirens wailing off in the distance. The city police are on their way to breakup the fight.
Some neighbor must have called the cops. Well then, it's time to blow this joint.
It takes less than half a moment for her to take his outstretched hand and for him to sweep her off her feet and into the passenger seat of a Model J. Despite the rain, it makes for a romantic picture — her flapper outfit, complete with the lilac gloves, feathered hat, and lace shawl and his dashing sky blue three-piece.
He really is rather handsome up close in a dangerous, mobster sort of way.
"Where are we going?" She asks him, suddenly aware that he could in fact be the more stylish version of the creep she'd just been talking to. "And who are you?"
"The name's Kiba." He nods to her politely as he turns back to check behind them as they pull out of the lot. Oh, that's where his hat was. It's a wide brim panama with a single wilted violet tucked into the band thrown hastily over onto the back seat like he'd left it in a hurry. At least he didn't have a complete dearth of fashion sense, and his car is a sweet, sweet ride. "Kiba Inuzuka. Might I have the lady's name?"
Kiba presses down on the accelerator, and the engine rumbles like a panther's pur before they're on the road well ahead of the searching police lights.
It takes a moment for what he's said to catch up to her. It might be just the amount of whiskey she's downed tonight though, making all of her thoughts slow like old molasses.
Inuzuka.
Well, that's...good she supposes. She's only been picked up by a big shot from one of the largest mobs around. The Wolves aren't to be messed with in Konoha or a fifty mile radius out of it. They're real close to their chests about who their leaders are, but if Kiba isn't a big shot, then where'd he get the money for those clothes?
What did I do to get such luck?
"Ino." She says, politely because it's hard not to be polite when you're stuck in a car with a wanted criminal and presumably all his weapons.
Kiba grunts as they make a sharp right and then a left, and then another left. The downtown streets blur together through the softly falling rain. "Bush clover, huh. It's a pretty name." He doesn't bother to mention that she also has a pretty face.
Men have been mentioning that about her ever since she turned fifteen. "So just my name, huh."
It's not as if she wants him to leer and make lewd comments about what he'd like to do to her. He's been a perfect gentleman so far, except for the bar incident, but she can't let go of her vanity either. It makes for an awkward combination.
"Sweetheart," Kiba drawls as they cruise down a deserted backroad. "Right now ya look wrecked, so forgive me for not complimenting your makeup, or hair, or dress, or anything." He turns to her; they pass a gaslight, and his face is surprisingly serious for such casual words. "My sis taught me if I don't have anything nice ta say, I shouldn't say anything at all."
So maybe she's been drinking all night. Maybe she doesn't look her best, but it hurts all the same. "Let me out of the car." She tugs at the passenger side door but finds that it's locked. She turns to him. "Let me out."
He keeps driving, speed picking up now that they're farther out of center city. "No."
A tendril of fear grips her heart. Would Papa even know where she went if he didn't give her back? "What do you mean, no?"
Is he taking her to some private place to kill her? Rape her? Sell her? Who knows what depths a mobster and a bootlegger will sink to? Moral degradation doesn't seem to register on the scales of his conscience, so...what does that mean about her fate?
He doesn't respond as he takes another turn.
"What do you mean, no?" She hisses at him. He'd called her his girl earlier. Did he mean it in any way besides trying to get the creep to step away without starting a fist fight? Which, to be fair, he'd courted and then brutally finished even so. "Kiba Inuzuka, where are we going?"
She sounds stronger than she feels. Except for the slurring of her words and her pounding head, she could be normal, be Ino Yamanaka, perfect hostess and the height of Konoha fashion. Inside though, there are a thousand fears turning to ice in her veins.
Is he going to kidnap her and hold her for ransom? How will Papa hold his head up in polite society after this gets out?
"I mean you're drunk and far away from home." He drums his fingers on the steering wheel as they come to a stop underneath a gas lamp. "I'm sure ya can call a cabby, but I wouldn't trust them as much as I can throw them at this time of the morning." He gestures to the door. "Ya can get out here if you want, or we can go somewhere where your expensive lace shawl won't get ruined with the rain."
Just to prove his point, lightning flashes, illuminating the rain streaked windows.
Vanity or safety? Vanity and dubious safety or ruined clothes and the chance that she'd never get home ever again?
She doesn't know where the safety is, but her vanity demands that she stay inside.
"You're not goin' anywhere are ya, Sweetheart." Kiba huffs a laugh as he restarts the car. "Thought so."
He doesn't feel dangerous, not in that vaguely creepy way that men do when they stare too long. He's like a school boy still, like they're going on some grand adventure. He's been a friendly sort so far.
It was a safer decision to stay in the car. "Where are we going?"
"My sister's house." He shrugs. "I live with her, ya know."
Ino nods along. "Now I do." Even less chance that something's happening now. If he holds his sister in such high regard as to still be living with her and quoting her life lessons at his age, then he probably isn't someone who'd kidnap or murder a woman.
Probably. Ino's quite willing to admit if she ends up having to call Papa for ransom sometime tomorrow morning, it'll be because the giggle water's gone straight to her head and making her do stupid things.
She's never seen the inside of a bootlegger's house before. Some part of her's still curious as to how a young dandy who acts like a schoolboy ended up becoming big shot mobster.
They keep driving through the rain slicked streets, out of the city and toward the suburbs.
Ino lives on the west shore of the Nakano River, in the neighborhood known as the Bend. Kiba takes the bridge out toward the east shore and into a ritzy, upper class neighborhood that Ino's never seen before in her life.
"Where are we?" She asks as she stares out at the balcony style houses painted in various colorful shades.
"The Water Gardens." Kiba turns down into a wide avenue and then into a gated lane on the end of the block. "Named for the famous fountain gardens in the center of the neighborhood." He sticks his head out of the car window. "Hey, Shin. I'm home, but I'm late. Ya mind not tellin' Sis 'bout that?"
"Aww, Kiba, do ya gotta make my life hard like this?" The guard at the gate gives Kiba a once over and sighs. "But yeah, I'll not mention it ta Queenie. She asks me about it 'n I'm sellin' ya up the river."
"Thanks a bunch." Kiba pulls himself back into the car and shakes the water from his hair with casual disregard. "Welp." He taps his fingers on the steering wheel as the gate's cranked up in front of them. "This is goin' better than I hoped."
There's trees on either side of them, well tended flower beds and all, though she can't make out the specifics through the rain and her pounding headache. Her eyelids are heavy, and her head is killing her, and everything's a little fuzzy around the edges.
She doesn't remember the specifics of the inside of the house, or where Kiba parked the car, or anything. She blacks out long before that.
"So where do ya live?" She's in the car with Kiba again the next morning, though his slow drawl interacting with her hangover makes her want to cringe and cry. If she doesn't pay attention, she'll miss half his words or forget the beginning of his sentence after getting caught up in her aching head.
She'd borrowed a dress from his sister, or at least, he said the wine-red evening gown belonged to his sister.
It's not something a respectable working class woman would wear, and it's not really flapper fashion as the hem is nearly at her feet, but something older, like a new-aged dress modeled after a ball gown. It's a strangely fashionable piece. Ino thinks she rather likes it.
He's in another three-piece today — this one a dark forest green — with a fresh violet tucked into the band of his panama. At least he knows how to go places in style, even if he is a wanted criminal, Ino laments to herself. Why does the one of the few fashionable young men I happen to meet have to be a wanted criminal?
"The Bend." There's no harm in telling him that. He hadn't taken advantage of her when she was completely sozzled, so there's no reason to think he'd suddenly kidnap her now when his job is exponentially harder. "Number Three, Magnolia."
He whistles. "That's uppercrust."
She glances over at him. "You drive a Model J, wear tailored three-pieces and live in the Water Gardens with a gatekeeper on duty at wee hours of the morning. I don't think you have the space to talk."
He grins at her wolfishly with a hint of fang before turning to look backwards at the oncoming traffic. "Ah, but I lived in the Pleat for a long time when I was little, Sweetheart. I betcha never left the Bend unless it was to go downtown."
The Pleat is still one of the poorest slums in Konoha, and from what she's heard, a cesspit of sin, poverty, and crime.
It's hard to imagine the stylish bootlegger next to her ever living in such a place. For one, he knows how to dress the way that most self-made men didn't. For another, he's been as cheerful as a college student this entire time. She thought people who were poor wouldn't act like him, but apparently she was wrong.
It makes sense that he'd react to her neighborhood the way he did now. "You're right. I haven't." She's lived with Papa all her life, and they've always been in Number Three, Magnolia. Across the street are the Harunos at Number Six and down into the circle are the Nara and the Akimichi. No one moves out of the Bend really, unless they leave in shame and bankruptcy — that hasn't happened in Ino's lifetime — and no one moves into it.
There's not a family on the block who would sell their family house for any amount of money.
He nods. "Hmmm." They're on the bridge again, and he makes a highly illegal u-turn onto the side going to West Shore. All around them, there's screeching as cars come to a sudden stop, and as drivers lean on their horns. "Can't say I blame ya."
"Kiba!" He'd been driving so fast they nearly shot off of the bridge.
He throws his head back and laughs. "Every day's an adventure, Sweetheart. Don't take it too serious, or you'll die that way, and ya won't have had any fun while you're at it."
"I don't want to die!" She clutches the back of her seat. "I'm too young to die!" And too pretty. What a picture it would make if they did die though. She can see the newspaper headlines now — two stylish young people out for a joy ride in Daddy's Model J, nevermind it isn't true.
He looks over at her, sidelong, though he puts his eyes back on the road a moment later. "Yeah." He agrees slowly. "Too young to die s'bout right." He chuckles though, a boy's smile on his face, no scheming, no angling, none of that, just happy amusement crinkling the corners of his dark brown eyes. "But it scared the headache out of ya, so that's a plus, yeah?"
She blinks. "I'm...my head doesn't hurt anymore."
"Uh-huh, Sweetheart."
They take a slower route into the Bend after that.
There's something she likes about Kiba Inuzuka. Maybe it's because he's been the first person to listen to her for a long, long time. So many people in her life just want to talk at her instead of to her.
Maybe it's because he's stylish, and young, and exciting with a dash of danger mixed in. His life exists on the fringes of her day to day normal, and he feels like a grand adventure. Ino's always been a sucker for a bad boy.
Or maybe it's because he's got a nice laugh. It could just be the aura of golden cheer around him. Ino hasn't had much to laugh about in a long while.
Whatever the reason, she likes him.
Papa pulls the pistol on Kiba when he walks her to the door. "Get away from my daughter." There's an angry firmness in Papa's eyes.
Kiba obligingly puts his hands up, though there's definitely an undercurrent of tension in the line of his shoulders. She can't imagine having a gun drawn on him is a fun experience. "Hey, I'm not some sort of hooligan, Old Man."
"Papa!" Ino reaches across for the hand on the pistol. "Don't, he was very polite about bringing me—"
"Don't speak to me about polite, Cosmos!" She's never seen Papa this mad. "Bringing you home in the morning, not even bothering to notify anyone where you were. He's a right cad. And you!" He rounds on Ino. "I've been lenient with you all your life, but there's a limit to my leniency, young lady. Get into the house."
Reluctantly, Ino steps onto the porch.
Kiba sticks his hands in his pockets, slouching down with his panama pulled low over his eyes. "Whatcha gonna do, Old Bastard? Shoot me right in the middle of your pretty flower lawn? I ain't done a thing wrong, and this is the thanks I get? You're makin' me reconsider doin' good deeds."
"Nothing wrong?" Papa snarls. "You're a bootlegger, a criminal of the worst sort. You're responsible for the moral degradation of an entire city, and you've done nothing wrong?"
"Oh, I betcha got some smuggled goods in that fancy house of yours. Ain't an uppercrust house in this city who don't." Kiba snaps back. "An' who're the ones who got it there? Ya serve it at your garden party, an' it's a comfort. Me or one of the boys get it ya, and we're like worse than dirt, yeah? Now don'tcha go 'round thinkin' I'm some sorta rapist. My sis brought me up t'be a gentleman, an' insult me all ya want, but leave my sis outta it. It'll break her heart ta hear such a thing, so keep ya damn mouth shut."
"Off of my property." The barrel of the pistol shakes just a little. "Now."
Kiba turns around and stalks his way over to his car. "Yeah, yeah, I get it, ya old bastard. You're worse than Old Man Hyuga, ya know that? He's never thrown a hissy fit 'cause I stepped on his stupid grass lawn." The car door slams behind him. There's a screech as he slides over a gravel patch, and then Kiba's gone.
Papa shuts the door behind himself drops the pistol with a thunk onto the carpeted floor. "Don't you ever scare me like that again, Cosmos. I had heart palpitations when you stepped out of that car."
"No, Papa. I won't." Ino frowns. "But Papa, you shouldn't have threatened him with the pistol." For one, she's not entirely certain about Kiba's temperament. He'd seemed plenty angry when he left, though she doesn't think he'd come back to attack Papa. For another, it was very rude of Papa to accuse him of derogatory things simply because he's a bootlegger. "He—" Oh how to explain to Papa without giving away where she was last night? "He saved me from a bad situation, and he wasn't the least bit different than a normal gentleman."
She means Kiba's manners toward her. He certainly didn't think like the stale gentlemen that she has to meet and smile and greet at every opera viewing, garden party, and charity ball, and as far as she knows, he doesn't act like one either.
"Where did you go last night? Whose dress are you wearing?" Papa sits down on a nearby chair in the entryway. It's been newly dusted by the maid, but it is out of character for her mild and impeccably mannered Papa.
"It's his sister's." Ino sighs. "If you have to know where I went, it was the speakeasy under the old market on Sweet Rue Street in the city." It's best to pull the bait and switch she supposes. Papa will be displeased about the speakeasy visiting, and then forget to be angry about Kiba.
I do hope you're grateful about my distracting Papa so he doesn't set the law on your tail. Otherwise, he'd be at Uncle Shikaku's in a jiffy, and you'd be in a jail cell.
"Ino, you know what I think about drinking." Papa pins her with a hard look that rapidly softens into something like grief. "You're still upset about marrying Shikamaru, aren't you?"
She didn't want him to start up about this whole business again, but she can't very well say that, so all she does is nod and turn away.
"Oh, Ino." Papa sighs. "You know that the contract's been arranged for years now." When she turns back to look at him, he has his head in his hands, bangs falling over his forehead as if he's run his hands through his hair too many times. She'd really worried him when she didn't come home last night.
For a brief and quiet moment, Ino is struck by a horrible sense of guilt. Papa dotes on her endlessly, but she's never quite been able to fit herself into all the facets of a lady of her breeding. Her flapper dresses and drinking is proof enough of that.
"I don't understand it, Cosmos. You like Shikamaru well enough. Why are you so upset?"
Because Shikamaru loves someone, and it isn't me, is on the tip of her tongue, but something clogs up in her throat and all she can really manage is a simple "I don't know, Papa. I just don't want to."
There's enough disappointment radiating from Papa to drown in. It makes her uncomfortable. It makes her sad and resigned.
Marrying someone from Suna isn't exactly unheard of, but it's very unconventional. Having a relationship with someone before getting married is also highly unconventional. If word got out, it would tank Shikamaru's reputation.
And maybe Ino's hurt and cut up over what's happened between them in the past few years — She'd always known she would marry Shika, and Shika had always know he would marry her, and they are good enough friends that they could be happy if they just made the effort, so why, why wasn't she good enough? — but she still calls him a friend, and she won't ruin him, or Uncle Shikaku's law firm by being a snitch.
She retreats to the gardens and surrounds herself with evening primroses, enough to make anyone else green with envy, and resolves not to think about it.
She can put it off until tomorrow. The wedding's not anytime soon. She can put it off until tomorrow, and her eyes fall closed.
She falls asleep in the garden, dreaming of sky-blue three-pieces and a flash of golden eyes.
She doesn't see Kiba again for months after that. Papa holds the purse strings on her allowance hostage and has the maids pour his stash of liquor down the drain of the kitchen sink. In short, he treats her like a child, though Ino's hard pressed to protest, given how much she worried him the last time she snuck out.
"Come on, Ino. Cheer up." Sakura looks up from applying her rouge in the mirror. "We're going out to support the Widows and Orphans Fund tonight. At least try to look like you want to be there."
"It's not like I don't want to be there." Ino holds the lipstick stencil before her face and centers herself so she can draw on the Cupid's bow. "It's just—" she sets her lipstick down and sighs. "I don't want to marry Shika." She can tell Sakura this, though she's not sure she can tell her childhood best friend about her dreams of gold eyes, crooked smiles, and a slowly drawling voice.
For goodness sake, she's only ever met him once, and it was a terribly uncomfortable and unconventional meeting.
"I know." Sakura turns around. "I don't think this is something you can get out of though. Mr. Yamanaka takes his promises seriously and that contract's been drawn up since before I knew you." Sakura studies her face some more. "Ino, are you carrying a torch for anyone?"
Ino shakes her head. "I'm not. I just don't want to." She doesn't want this, doesn't want to hurt Shika, doesn't want to hurt herself.
If she gets married to Shika, she'll hurt herself over it sometime. If she doesn't marry Shika, she'll hurt him and his reputation. There's no way to win. The only question is if she's selfish enough to refuse right up until they drag her to the altar.
"Well," Sakura comes over to do her hair. "I wouldn't say that Shika's the absolute worst to get married to, and you'll be well taken care of if you do in every way." Sakura slaps her hands down on the vanity table. "Oh, what am I saying? True love conquers all. I would offer to run away to Kumo with you, but I don't think we'd get far. You'd want to come back twenty miles down the road."
Ino shrugs. "I didn't expect you to fund my running away. I never intended to run away. It's just made me blue is all." No. Ino Yamanaka isn't fond of running.
Ino Yamanaka's going nowhere even if she's going to her doom.
She looks up to find Sakura staring at her, long and hard. "I do hope you'll be alright, Ino." Sakura's hug is sudden. "You've always been a sister to me, you know."
Ino laughs. "Yeah, I know it." Somewhere in the back of her mind, there's a long slow drawl dragging out the yeah, and following it with a pause. Yeah, Sweetheart, don't I know it. She shakes the thought away.
They're out the door by six o'clock on the dot, Papa, Sakura, and her. Dr. Haruno has a late shift at Konoha General tonight, so it is just the three of them bundling into the car in their long autumn coats.
They make it to the town hall in good time. Everyone's here. Everyone who's somebody, everyone who cares about what other people think, everyone who has a good heart, everyone's here.
"Have you heard the news, Inoichi?" Mayor Sarutobi hurries over. "Our biggest donor finally consented to give a speech tonight." The old man smiles around his pipe. "It'll be the biggest event of the year."
"Really." Papa raises an eyebrow. "This mysterious donor hasn't ever decided to come to these sorts of gatherings before."
There's a great philanthropist in the city who everyone denies knowing. The same person who has donated to the Widows and Orphans' Fund has donated to the Disabled Veterans' Fund, the Salvation Army, Goodwill, soup kitchens, settlement houses, and unions all across the Pleat and other poor districts.
It's clear that he has money to burn, and he burns it frequently in these sorts of causes, but it is equally clear that he prefers to keep out of the public eye. No one has ever been able to say with any sort of certainty who this philanthropist is, and in the absence of fact, they substituted on rumor. Almost every man who lives in the Bend has been questioned several times about the charity.
For a long time, everyone suspected Dr. Haruno, or perhaps Police Chief Uchiha, but Sakura had quickly put those rumors to rest — she had an in with the Uchihas from her betrothal to Sasuke Uchiha, and everyone knows to take her word on it regarding her own father.
"Well, they'll be here tonight. I received a letter from a verifiable source saying that they will make an appearance."
Everywhere in the hall, it is all anyone can talk about. "Did you hear?"
"Do you know?"
"The donor's going to be here."
"Do you suppose he's old?"
"He can't be that old right? Even if he's been doing this for a while."
"Imagine. Perhaps he's a bachelor."
"Ah, do you suppose he's handsome?"
Sakura leans over to whisper in Ino's ear. "Think of how silly they'll look when the man himself shows up, and he's old, balding, and would be the type to wave a cane at the children on his lawn, all fusty and grumpy."
Ino stifles a giggle. "That would be a cruel joke indeed." Sakura's gotten more outwardly irreverent these past few years. Ino likes the change, likes that Sakura's grown into a confident young woman who isn't afraid to speak her mind. By marrying into the Uchihas, she'll need it. They're all a strong-willed people. Sakura will have to hold her own.
"I know, right?" Sakura's betrothal is nothing like hers. It had been made by chance, when she and Sasuke had met one night down in a now closed down speakeasy. As it turns out, the boy who used to pull her pigtails has grown up into a polite young man.
Personally, Ino finds him stiff, but Sakura likes him so that's all that matters. They'd met, danced, and fallen in love in short order. Sasuke had broached the discussion to his father, and the engagement had been finalized just last year. They have a wedding planned for the spring. It'll be a big one, and Ino will be a bridesmaid, all in a pretty pastel pink and everything will be beautiful.
A hush falls over the gathered crowd.
A car no one knows has pulled up to the curb.
Ino however, has to cover her mouth so her gasp isn't audible. How many people in this city would own a Model J? She shakes her head. No, I can't think about—
A black leather boot half covered by a gray felt spat hits the curb first. Out steps what looks like a young dandy in a black three-piece. There's a violet tucked in the wide band of his panama.
Kiba Inuzuka steps out of his car and strides over to the passenger door. He offers the person on the other side a hand. A gloved hand takes his and out steps a woman in a plum-purple dress, a silk shawl drawn over her shoulders more as a fashion item than to keep out the chill.
Kiba bends over and kisses the hand. Then, he grins all crooked smile and flashing fangs.
From the other side of the hall, Ino spots a flash of red on the woman's cheeks that is most certainly not rouge. Her tattoos match Kiba's exactly.
Who's that?
Another man in a dark gray three-piece falls in behind them. His hair is ash gray.
On her other side, Papa stiffens.
The crowd parts for the small group of three as they take the stage. When they do make it to the center, Kiba takes a step back and leaves the woman alone in the lights.
She smiles with a hint of sharpness. "So," she says, slow, voice sliding smoothly into a slight drawl. "My little brother pleaded one too many times that I should step out and take the glory, and I can deny him nothing, so I'm here." The crowd below erupts in hushed whispers.
"...a woman?"
"Fangs…"
Now, Ino knows exactly who this is. Kiba's vaunted older sister. She's surprised that the philanthropist is a woman, but she's a little more surprised that Kiba's sister also wears the same tattoos as the Wolves.
"For those of you who don't know me," the woman continues. "My name is Hana Inuzuka. I'm Kiba Inuzuka's older sister." At this moment, Kiba gives a little wave and a smile.
Their eyes meet from across the hall. Ino has no idea how he had even seen her in the crowd of hundreds, but she'd been looking at him, and suddenly he looks her way, and the world just drops out. Whatever Ms. Inuzuka was saying is gone now.
He has eyes the color of raw earth in the springtime, shining with flecks of gold. She hadn't seen wrong the first time. His eyes do really flash gold in the electric lights. He gives her a little upward nod and a grin. Her heart stutters as though it's drunk, and she has no idea why.
His lips move. Sweetheart.
Sakura shakes her out of it. "Ino!" She hisses. "What's gotten into you?"
And Ino finds that she has absolutely no idea. It might have something to do with that crooked smile.
She still has no idea half an hour later when she opens the first tango in Kiba's arms. Somehow, she's ended up here. "Ya look even less fine than the last time I saw ya, Sweetheart. An' ya spent most of that completely sozzled." There's maybe a hint of concern in his voice. "Something the matter?"
"I think you have made a series of bad decisions tonight." Ino tells him breathlessly as they go through another set and he dips her low. "Papa may like as not kill you this time."
Kiba shrugs. "Why, he wouldn't commit murder. That wouldn't be respectable." There's a hint of a laugh in his eyes.
They spin around the floor once more before Ino can catch her breath again from all the giggling she's done in the meantime. "Oh, that's rich coming from you!"
In retaliation, Kiba spins her faster, his hand on the small of her back as he catches her again. "I'm plenty respectable when I wanna be, Sweetheart. Why, respectable is my middle name."
This forces her into another fit of giggles. She shouldn't be on the dance floor with a stranger right now, certainly not when she's been engaged to Shika since childhood, but something about Kiba's always been amusing and fun.
She can't help herself really. "Black certainly does make you look respectable." The only flash of color he's wearing tonight is his red tattoos.
He grins. "Ya think so? It's a boring color's what it is. All that conformity, no self expression."
"Well," She allows. "Maybe it isn't as flattering as a sky-blue three-piece."
He nods along. "Ya betcha it isn't. Nothing's quite as good as a well-made blue."
They're just ending the next set when Shika taps Kiba on the shoulder. "Mind if I cut in?"
Kiba turns to him with a brazen smile and sharp eyes. "Matter of fact I do." Ah. You can give a mobster a respectable suit, but you can't make him respectable.
He's just the same as when we met — brazen, rude, on the edge of violence.
Ino pulls her hand away. "I'm going to say it's okay."
"Why, Sweetheart, you're gonna let this bluenose cut into our night?" He doesn't try to get her hand back though, just stands there, a little off to the side of the dance floor.
"That bluenose," and yes, her time spent with Kiba has been fun so far, but Shika's been her friend since childhood and doesn't deserve to be insulted when he's been perfectly polite. "Is my fiance."
"Ah." Kiba tips his hat in Shikamaru's direction. "Well, good meetin' ya then." He steps away, moving across the floor accompanied by a veritable storm of whispers.
Shika joins her for the next set. "How do you know him?"
Ino finds herself at a loss as to how to respond exactly. How exactly does one tell one's fiance that one was so upset at the thought of having to marry him that one decided to drown oneself in cheap illegal liquor and then met a mobster who broke some creep's hand?
Well, one can't say that, so it's best to say nothing at all. Ino shrugs. "I met him around."
It's not the right thing to say, but it's the best she can do.
"I think we need to talk, Ino." Dancing with Shikamaru is a stiff task. There's no embellishments or frills in anything he does and that translates to a dry dancing style. "Would you be willing to meet in the teahouse on Peachtree street?"
Ino casts her eyes down toward her feet. "What time?" She can guess what the meeting's for. It just won't be pretty.
"Monday morning, ten o'clock." Shika spins her around and pulls her back. "You look better tonight than you've been in a while, Ino."
She does her best to smile, even if he's going to see through it without a second glance. "Thank you." She's known Shika since they were both toddlers. It's not hard to know what he's thinking.
I wish he wouldn't try to encourage me when he knows I won't be encouraged this way.
Sakura pulls her off the dance floor to ask about Kiba as soon as the set with Shika is finished, and Ino can barely contain her friend from trying to squeeze all the pieces out of her without breaking off their friendship completely.
Sometimes, she wishes the ground could just open up and swallow her so that she doesn't have to answer other people's questions about her life. Just a little bit of privacy and the ability to do what I want.
Am I asking too much from life?
Papa allows her to go out to meet Shika on Monday morning with ill grace. "I don't know why you were dancing and laughing with that good for nothing cad on Friday, Cosmos, but even if his sister's a philanthropist they're still funding our moral organizations with dirty money."
"I'm just going to see Shika, Papa." Ino resists the urge to think too deeply about why Papa so decidedly does not like Kiba, even after she told him the full story of events. "He'll even pick me up at the door."
"It's good to know that the two of you are talking again." Papa cups her cheek with a hand. "You and Shikamaru are much alike." That is true.
They both come from money, from the Bend, from a common history and a common interest.
She hadn't been happy with avoiding Shika anyway. There's a rap on the door and a maid hurries into the study to announce a Mr. Nara.
Ino kisses her papa on the cheek. "Well, I'm going then."
Shika opens the door of the car for her. She sits down by herself though, because she's not some doll.
"Do you want to wait until we get to the teahouse to talk?" Shika stares straight ahead at the road. "Or would you like this to happen now?"
"I can wait until I meet her." The only reason she can think of to make Shika want to talk in public is because they can't invite his girl from Suna in any of their houses. "That's what we're doing today isn't it? You want your fiancee to meet your girl?"
He sighs. "We need to discuss this sometime."
And they do. They do need to discuss the rest of their lives sometime. It's just well, she doesn't want to. She's been doing a lot of stuff she doesn't want to these days.
"I'll wait until we get there." She can put it off for another half hour or more at the moment.
The traffic around them moves slowly, and Shika never takes any chances. For a brief moment as they head over the bridge, she wishes for that one wild u-turn that had nearly thrown the car off the siding. Oh, what am I thinking? I don't actually want to die.
It's stupid is all. She has her life, and by the looks of it, Kiba does too.
Their lives aren't supposed to intersect.
Shika opens the door for her when they arrive at the teahouse, though they do not walk in arm in arm. "I believe we already have a reservation." He slides a bill across the table toward the hostess. "Ms. Sabaku should already be here. A table for three?"
The older matron nods. "Right this way."
They are led to a booth just a little ways off to the side.
"You ran into traffic again, Shika?" Ms. Temari Sabaku is, in fact, here before them. She's a woman with sandy blonde hair and flat green eyes, perhaps a few years older than them.
Shika shrugs. "It happens." He gestures briefly in Ino's direction. "Might I introduce my fiancee, Ms. Ino Yamanaka?" Ino curtsies slightly, and he turns to her. "And this is Ms. Temari Sabaku."
"A pleasure." Temari smiles a slight edge to her cheer.
"Likewise." Ino smiles back. It was best to meet in a public space.
Shika always thinks of everything.
Shikamaru drops into a chair with a heavy sigh. "I think we all know why we're here." He pulls a few sheets of paper out of his briefcase. "This contract has been signed and dated for at least fourteen years by now, and there are several properties whose ownership will take years to determine satisfactorily now so intertwined as they are between my father and Ino's. If we cannot come to a satisfactory agreement, they will be turned over to the state. This of course, will leave us both destitute."
"You've mentioned." Temari takes a sip of her tea and sets it down primly. "I have already told you I don't care who you marry. I'll love you just the same."
Ino reaches across the table for the papers. They are only copies of course, the original documents are still held in trust at the bank. These are largely our properties. She sees the hothouses where her cousin, Fu, manages the winter roses, several large tracts of land where their tulips are grown, a great deal of Yamanaka property is tied up in this contract.
To have them ceded back to the state… This would bankrupt Papa.
And there are Uncle Shikaku's law offices, records of investments that go back at least a decade, the house the Naras own by the shore. Nevermind just bankrupting Papa to have this go back to the state, it would bankrupt Uncle Shikaku as well. Together, it is a formidable sum of money and property.
The final possible date for a wedding is set for Shika's twentieth birthday next September.
Papa had ensured that she would always live well the best he could.
"I don't want to go into a marriage like this." Shika covers his face in his hands. "But the simple fact to the matter is that if we allow these properties to revert back to the state then we will both be destitute, and it will also break our parents' hearts."
"How long will it take to disentangle this contract?" If they can get this straightened before his birthday next year, they wouldn't need to get married.
"Longer then a year." Shika rubs his temples with his fingers. "This is such a mess. It isn't fair to either of you."
Temari smiles, razor sharp. "Well, life doesn't happen to be concerned with fairness, Shika." It's clear that she cares about Shika, that she's good for him. She douses him with reality when he gets to deep into his own head when all Ino could have done is panic along with him. "All we can do is the best we can." Temari cuts her gaze across to Ino. "Would you mind if your husband doesn't love you?"
Ino raises her chin. "I've a year to come to terms with it. I'll manage."
Temari's expression turns wry. "I honestly didn't know about any of this when I first met him." But she doesn't say she wouldn't have fallen in love with him if she did.
Ino shrugs. "It's not your fault." It's nobody's fault besides the stupid desire between Papa and Uncle Shikaku to see their children well off well after they are both dead. These properties that have been bound together have earned far more money than if they were separate, backed as they were by two rich men instead of one.
It happened out of the goodness of their hearts. No one could have foreseen that years later, it would be the noose to hang the both of them in.
"I'll try to get this under control as soon as possible. There'll have to be time to figure this out." Shika runs a hand through his spiky hair. "There just has to be."
Temari sets a hand on his shoulder. "Deep breaths. Time will lay the path clear when you calm down."
Yes, they are good for each other. Ino sees it when she looks at them and fights the bitter wish to have someone in her life like that too.
The doorbell chimes. "Watch your step, 'nata." She knows that voice.
There, by the door, is Kiba dressed radically today in a wine red waistcoat and matching pants and jewel toned tie. He isn't wearing a vest over his white shirt this morning.
Beside him is the Hyuga Heiress. Her father, Hiashi Hyuga made his money in the oil fields out west, Ino recalls.
He flips a bill over onto the table. "A room in the back for me an' 'nata here." He's most likely just dropped a lot of money, because the hostess looks almost scared to pick it up.
"Kiba!" Hinata covers her smile with a hand. "No, a booth in the front is just fine. We're only here for tea and a conversation."
"Aww, but we've got to celebrate your engagement somehow." Kiba grins easily. "Your longtime crush? The Senator's son? He finally looked your way, and ya get a lifetime outta the deal? You're over the moon. This calls for celebration doesn't it?"
"Oh, well," Hinata blushes prettily. "If you're certain…" It's interesting that he knows Hinata Hyuga. The young woman is very reserved and doesn't prefer to go out in public often, so seeing her here and friendly with a mobster is nothing shy of astounding. Not to mention, Hiashi Hyuga keeps an extensively tight leash on both of his daughters.
You're worse than Old Man Hyuga, you know that? Kiba had mentioned his connection to the Hyugas before...and she really shouldn't be paying attention to that.
The two who'd just walked in disappear with the hostess into the back. The whole exchange had maybe lasted half a minute.
When Ino turns back to her table, Shika's got a hard grip on his tea. "He's a wanted criminal, but absolutely no one can cut through the red tape around him." Shika glances over at her. "He's a criminal, Ino. If the law ever gets their hands on him, it won't be a jail cell that'll greet him."
Her blood runs cold. Execution is reserved for murderers only in Konoha.
But he'd been fun, and considerate, and so absolutely charming that it's nearly impossible to think that he's committed murder before.
Well, it's nearly impossible. She hasn't forgotten how easily he'd broken a man's arm in a bar for a girl he's never met before. Casual violence seems to be in his blood.
"Let's get back to business, Shika." She turns back to the documents. "Who does the warehouse on Chester Avenue belong to? It's being used for seed storage by Papa right now, but Uncle Shikaku's invested a good deal of money in it too." That's the problem with a good portion of these properties. They don't have a clear cut answer regarding ownership and even settling one of these in court would be a headache and a half.
There's no less than seven in their contract.
"Well, we can't sell the building. You're still using it." Shika underlines a portion in red pen. "We'll just have to see if Father's part of the investment can be paid off, and present that to Judge Jiraiya as an out for joint ownership… As for the next, well…"
A.N. Well, this has been kicking around in my drafts since the beginning of semester last August, and it's up to a good 30K words, so I figured I should start sharing this particular AU which is kind of near and dear to my heart. It's gonna be a very long fic though, so strap yourselves in for a long adventure. We're gonna get through the 1920s, the 1930s, the 1940s, and possibly parts of the 1950s. (If I don't run out of energy first.)
I should probably also warn you all that I've been reading too much F. Scott Fitzgerald and Gone with the Wind recently, so this fic probably has the same level of drama as those things. This romance is not much like the Sun/Moon romance that I've written before, which means it's more of a drama and less of a fluffy feels fic. You've been warned.
Perhaps this shall join the ranks of the regularly scheduled fanfiction. At any rate, it's another WIP to add to my ever growing pile of WIPs.
Thank you all so much for reading.
~Tavina