Salvation Wears High Heels
.
.
she is an anomaly.
.
.
Black blood coats her foot when it's over.
The midday heat is a searing burn all over her face and for once, she is thankful for the blazer—though ruined and in need of repairs—that protects her back from unwanted skin cancer. It's making her antsy how quiet the suburb is after her encounter with the living dead and the itch under the fabric of her corporate attire only worsens her mood. She is in desperate need for a shower.
She doesn't wait for the buzzing in her ears to subside before she hurries up the staircase just a few steps away. Her heels click along the concrete, unwanted and dangerous, but she doesn't worry as she reaches the rooftop of a two-story house and plops down.
It's been three months since it happened.
She can still remember it clearly like it only happened yesterday. And as she mechanically takes off her black pumps to wipe the heels clean with a stained cloth, the days rewind.
She had been prepping for a presentation at their company when she heard the screams. Neji had gone down to the lobby with Tenten to find out what the commotion was about while she remained at the thirtieth floor of the Hyuuga Corp. There wasn't anything to protect herself with other than the steel pole that held their national flag and her black pumps, so she had no choice but to gather her belongings, rip her pencil skirt, and run out of the conference room.
It had been a disaster.
The company was in a state of panic because they were stuck high up in the building while there seemed to be an infection going around. Of what kind, she hadn't really remembered to ask. Just that she had asked for her cousin and was later informed that they had gone outside the building. Hinata had left at that, zipping past the crowd to find Neji and Tenten.
When she had managed to escape through the fire exit, it was already too late. She couldn't find either of them, the cell towers were down, and she only had herself. Left with no other options, Hinata fought to survive.
Which is why she's stuck all by herself, carrying only a purple backpack that held not too many things: her ripped skirt from that day, the same blouse, a few packs of pickled cucumbers, water, a couple other girly things, and faded Vans. Oh, and never forget her combat knife that was gifted to her by Tenten and a Taser from Neji.
She's learned how to survive since then on her own.
Hinata doesn't know if anyone else is alive because there aren't many places to hide in Tokyo. Luckily for her, Kichijoji is a lot less populated by hyperactive teenagers and more with old people; the undead slower than most of them out there. So she hangs around the area for now. There are still plenty of stores she can raid and a number of houses she can stay in for the night if need be. From then on, she will go south and stay away from the main roads where most of the undead are.
And even if there are telltale signs of the living leading north, she will not go back into the city. It would be suicide.
Hinata sighs as she stuffs her black pumps back into the backpack in exchange for the faded Vans. They're much more comfortable to wear, but she finds that high heels are incredibly efficient at killing the undead.
Maybe even better than a gun. Messier, yes, but less prone to attracting their kin.
And Hinata doesn't need a hoard of zombies coming after her. She can only run for so long before her legs give out. So she sticks to the heels and knives, because blood she can wash away, but an infection from a bite?
She doesn't think about it.
.
.
The next time she fights another one of them, she's in her sneakers and her black pumps are in the bag on her back. It's halfway into another day when she encounters a trio lounging a few feet away from a Family Mart. They seem to be related, as the third is a little boy with short hair and the other two is a male and a female, both bigger than her.
The concrete kisses her skin when she stumbles.
Hinata rolls onto the side, narrowly dodging the kid that attempts to pounce on her. The momentum gets her back on her feet and she is once again moving, jumping backwards and trying to get a feel for the trio. They are neither fast nor slow. Probably because of their weight. The kid, however, is nimble and quick on his feet.
He snarls when she uses the trashcan to block him. The gurgle he emits makes her want to vomit—she's never killed a child before.
Can she do it?
The remaining two approach her and she acts without thinking. She stabs the kid once in the neck with her knife and twice in the head, ensuring that he's unable to get up when she moves to the parents. They're screaming now and she can't fathom why. Can zombies feel? No, they can't. It's impossible.
She mustn't sympathize with the enemy.
The father lunges for her, teeth bared, and she scurries to the side. She yelps when the mother intercepts her. Now both of them are trying to reach her so she high-kicks the father down to the earth and holds him down by the head face-down, her shoe grinding against his rotting scalp. She is reminded of her parents and bile rises to her throat.
Hurriedly, she stabs the mother in the head and uses her to block the father's mouth from snapping. His teeth bite onto his wife's flesh. Then she kills him while he's preoccupied. A blade through his jugular.
The aftermath is an unnerving—but much needed—silence.
Hinata heaves onto the sidewalk, spilling out her breakfast (though it composes only of pickled cucumbers and orange juice) without stop. She wipes away the black blood on her hands on the rough denim of her pants and shudders.
She can see the remains of the undead family in her peripherals, and the sight has her retching once more. She marvels for a moment at the amount of bile she pukes out because certainly, she hadn't eaten that much earlier.
This much puke should be impossible—
"Fuck!"
Hinata snaps into attention, ears straining against the sudden breakthrough of snarling in the distance. The voice sounded male and not too far away.
She glances around her for a weapon and finds a metal rod snapped in two. The longer one finds homage in her hand.
The backpack is tight on her back when she checks, so she throws away logic after another mental debate—like why is she trying to save another when she can barely save herself—and follows the sound of oblivion with trembling limbs.
.
.
He swears for the umpteenth time though it does nothing.
He's distinctly aware of the fear that courses through his veins and the fact that his swearing had attracted two more of them, giving him a grand winning total of six rotting, swaying corpses and a heart that's running at a speed of a hundred miles a second.
A headache begins to form behind his temples as he breathes another curse.
He reminds himself of his name and purpose. He is Uchiha Itachi, world-famous lawyer and brother to the foolish Uchiha Sasuke, who, he supposes, might be shaking at the sight of walking corpses and as his big brother he should be protecting him and not—
He inhales sharply and counts to ten. The pause renders him vulnerable as two of the six zombies finally lunge after him.
They're slow, he notes surprisingly when he dodges sideways. Their skin is peeling off and their movements are lethargic. Itachi guesses that they've been dead for too long, coupled with their already-old-age, they are basically mush under the weight of his briefcase which, he wonders for the tenth time, isn't really a good enough weapon against these bastards.
But he'll take whatever chance he gets to stay alive.
The force of his swing knocks down one of them, and it takes only a matter of seconds before it (he says because these things are not human) gets back up again. By then, he's too busy dealing with the other five to notice the awaiting set of teeth over his shoulder.
"Look out!" a distinctly girl (disgustingly soft) voice shouts, and he whirls around so fast that he pales at the sight of the corpse looming over him. Suddenly, he stops functioning.
The zombie is thrown to the side by a metal rod and behind it is a woman with the prettiest flush he's ever seen. Her eyes, opalescent and lavender-tinted, widen once they see him.
"Behind you!"
That sends him kicking.
He spins around with his briefcase colliding into one of the zombies' head. It moans loudly and the others step over their brethren to reach him, jaws snapping dangerously close to his flesh. Itachi swallows down the knot of fear that threatens to overwhelm him.
The woman doesn't waste time. Unlike him, there is no hesitation in the way her metal weapon pounds into their heads, her left hand donning a combat knife that she uses to stab mercilessly, black blood spraying all over her clothes and skin. Itachi finds this oddly beautiful, how her hair gives off a blue hue at a certain hit of sunlight, the stark contrast of black on her alabaster skin, and the pure desperation in her face as she fights to survive. It has him breathless.
She glances at him, frustrated. "What are you doing?" she asks, disconcerted and angry. "Move!"
Itachi blinks and before he realizes it, his briefcase is stuck between teeth and he's cursing again, jumping backwards to escape the next set of teeth that tries to clamp onto him.
The woman looks at him with part worry and disbelief. She shakes her head (to regain composure, he guesses) and throws him the metal rod. He catches it in one hand, eyeing it with distaste.
"I don't trust you with a knife," is all she says before a zombie goes after her.
Itachi would have snarled at her if not for the undead rushing at him. He saves the anger for later, redirecting it to the corpse in front of him and tightening his grip on the rod. He tests the first swing against its arm, swatting them away and then a second test to the head, the squelch of blood and flesh making him nauseous. He closes his eyes at the third—to which he stabs clean through one of its eyes. Warm blood splatters across his face.
The woman finishes with the last zombie. She staggers slightly to the right and swipes the knife in front of her. She's covered from head to toe in dead blood, her Vans caked with it, blazer darkening, her hair clumping from the mess and even then…
He finds it all beautiful.
(later, he will begrudgingly admit that he's talking about her)
They're both breathing heavily afterwards. She turns to him, mouth slightly open while she pants, and jerks her head for him to follow.
He narrows his eyes. "I'm fine."
She wrinkles her nose in childish irritation. She looks like she's about to say something that might offend him, but she clamps her mouth shut instead.
"W-Where are you staying?" she asks him, the stutter in her voice rendering him surprised and slightly entertained.
"I don't make stops."
"W-Well, you should." Her chin lifts with indignation. "The area will be s-swarming with undead tonight, s-so…"
Itachi checks the watch on his wrist, the glass cracked from multiple encounters with the zombies. It's only a few hours left before sunset. If he can somehow manage to get out of the area before the day ends, he should be fine.
When he looks at the woman, she appears apprehensive. Her eyes are darting from place to place and she's spinning the knife in her hand.
He grumbles inwardly. He is a grown man. He does not need to be protected or watched over by a woman—he's twenty-seven for fuck's sake—but even his prideful self can admit that she's skilled and knows how to handle the zombies. At least, more knowledgeable than him. He's only been skirting around them and running away. He hasn't actually killed one of them. His briefcase can only knock them down for a few moments and those few moments are enough to give him time to escape.
With a reluctant sigh, he concedes, "Fine."
"O—kay," she exhales, like she's out of breath, and he eyes the way she grips the knife a little tighter.
"Follow me."
.
.
Hinata leads him through a series of alleyways. She makes sure they're clear of the undead before passing through and when they reach the end of the road, ushers him up a stairway that leads to a room above a small family restaurant.
She can't help the sigh of relief that escapes her when they are finally inside. Though she reeks of black blood, she's alive and that's already more than what she expected. Every encounter with the undead is a life or death situation. One day, she may not survive one of those encounters, so she does not take for granted what she has now.
The other person in the room glances at her and she presses her lips together. "Y-You're Uchiha Itachi," she says quietly. She is afraid that her voice might attract them even here. "S-Sorry for not introducing myself, my name i-is Hinata."
Itachi continues to stare at her with those black eyes. "Hyuuga." It's not a question.
And she is guilty. "Y-Yes… that I am."
"Why is the heiress of the Hyuuga Corp all alone and looking like…" he rakes a gaze over her disheveled self and she recoils, "this?"
"T-That's none of your business."
"Your appearance or isolation?"
Hinata grits her teeth in restrained patience. "Both, Uchiha-san." She's quite proud of herself for not stuttering.
He grunts in response. She decides to ignore him then, proceeding to unpack the contents of her bag onto the wooden floor.
She'd managed to acquire some more canned goods and pickled cucumbers along with energy drinks. Though she doesn't like caffeine that well unlike Hanabi, she's come to learn that some nights would require her to stay awake, and most of the time, that would mean sipping on a Red Bull and munching on pickled radishes.
She joins the pile into a drawstring bag—discovered at a souvenir shop that had been guarded by an old-lady-turned-undead—and separates a section for them to eat for the night.
"I don't have anything else," Hinata says while she hands him a pack of the cucumbers. "I-It might not be what… you're used to."
Itachi eyes the food with barely concealed disgust. "…Do you have any sweets?"
"I, um, have a chocolate bar?"
(but that's hers! She found it fair and square and why should she give it to him?)
"Here you g-go." Hinata smiles at him, handing him the said bar.
He takes it with a grateful nod. Merely an incline of his chin.
"I-I've locked the doors so we should be f-fine. I'll go ahead and—and shower first," she informs him as she stands, backpack held tightly in both hands. She looks at him one last time to see him almost gaping at her. "W-What?"
He blinks once. "There's water?"
"Yes."
"A shower?"
"…Yes."
The last thing Hinata sees is the look of pure astonishment and disbelief written all over his face. She hides a smile behind her hand and leaves him to his musings.
She leans against the door when it closes, steadying her breathing to gather her wits. There's a man out there, her brain reminds her. A full-grown man! Not like her little cousins that tell her they love her and bring her flowers whenever they visit. No. Uchiha Itachi is a man five years her senior, and he is terribly, undeniably, and stupidly—handsome.
Teeth sink onto her lower lip. The prospect of going out there again is enough to make her feel faint. But if she has to, she would rather face him again looking at least half the heiress she is supposed to be.
Hence the shower.
She does her laundry when she's done, clad in a simple tee and pants, ensuring that she scrubs out all of the black blood that had seeped into her clothes.
The blazer is dark enough so she doesn't bother spending too much time on that. The shirt, however, she might throw away. It's impossible to recover with the amount of blood. She'd rather wear her formal blouse than a rag.
Sighing, she leaves them up on the curtain rod to dry and revisits Itachi.
To her surprise, the man of the hour is fast asleep against the wall.
.
.
"I don't need your help."
Hinata folds her arms over her chest. How can this man be so stubborn? He's even worse than Neji. And that's saying a lot, considering the fact that her cousin is the most prideful person she knows; how can this… man (or whatever species Itachi is) go even further than Neji? It's absurd.
"If you're looking for your brother, it's best we stick together," she reasons out, her frustration evident by the lack of her stutter. "Let's be honest here—if I hadn't saved you, there would be no shower for you and you would have been food for the undead."
"They're called zombies."
"That's not the point, Uchiha-san!"
He grimaces. "I'd rather not impose. You barely have enough food as it is and I'm sure you can manage better on your own."
He's correct, but that's not the point she's trying to make either.
A much-needed sigh leaves her lips. "There are rumors of a shelter up—up at Fukushima," she begins, ignoring the little voices in her head that are begging her to stop. "If your brother's still out there, north's a good place to start looking. It is also where – if by any chance they are still alive – my family might be at."
Itachi lifts a brow. "Then why haven't you gone north?"
Her forehead creases as she tries not to remember. But it's inevitable. "The city is… suicide."
"I was in Kanagawa when it happened so I don't really know."
"That's lucky of you—wait, w-what?" she gasps, turning to him with wide eyes. "How did you make it here by foot?"
He tries not to sound too smug when he tells her, "I hot-wired a truck and drove past them all."
She's impressed. "I—I see." A pause makes her wonder. "Then, um, you've never actually killed them by hand?"
"I ran out of gas."
"I said by hand, Uchiha-san, n-not by your truck."
He glares at her and she tries not to laugh at the sight of him squinting his eyes. In the middle of the night, with only candles to illuminate the room, she doesn't feel any less cautious than when she is outside. But there is something different about sharing that feeling with another living being. Although, if she were to be honest with herself, she'd rather have someone with a… smaller pride.
Hinata draws up her knees to her chest and presses her cheek against them. "I will help you find your brother, Uchiha-san."
He heaves a long sigh. "I don't need any help, Hyuuga."
As if on cue, a long growl echoes just outside their temporary shelter, followed by the slow drag of feet on concrete. He pales at the sound of hungry walking corpses.
She gives him a grim smile. "Y-You don't really have a choice."
.
.
Itachi didn't want to admit it, but she's right. He knew from the very beginning that she was. Being an Uchiha just meant being prideful about their egos and refusing reality until they had no other choice left. He remembers being told by his father that he cannot be a lawyer. Uchihas are born to be police officers and they will continue to do so until the very end. He had fought so hard against that notion (and it's not because he is afraid of a little death!) Sure, he may be world-famous and in demand for his skills but in the end, he wasn't really happy. His father was right after all.
How can he be happy when he fights for the justice of the undeserving? He's never lost a case and they all consider him brilliant. A genius, even. But in his parents' eyes, he is only a traitor. They try to put evil behind bars while he tries to set them free.
Money can do so much—he knows that now. Politics is all about having enough money to be pardoned for corruption and having enough money to gain influence. At the front seat of it all, Itachi is sick of the world's disgusting excuse for humanity. The apocalypse is proof of it. Somehow, he sees it as a reveal of what people are truly like underneath all of that skin. Corpses hungry for power. For greed.
Gluttons, the lot of them.
And yet, he cannot bring himself to kill them because he can imagine the disappointment on his father's face when he sees him killing humans. Murdering innocents. For someone who hates the world, he is oddly passionate about humanity despite its flaws. That's why he's trying so hard to avoid killing them while he searches for Sasuke. He thought he could do it. It might have been a foolish thought in the beginning, to survive without killing, but he had wished and hoped for such a futile dream.
So when they are up against three very hyperactive zombies, he finally says it—to himself.
He needs her in his quest to find his little brother.
Itachi realizes this when Hinata—shorter than him by a head and with a supple body of a gentle woman—brings down a zombie with her foot. Not just her foot. In Jimmy Choo, nonetheless. It leaves him speechless when the heel of her pumps pierces through flesh, stabbing the zombie effectively in the head and stopping its attempt to fight back.
The knife is useless in her prowess. It fascinates him how high heels can serve a much better purpose as a weapon than a knife, with an actual blade that is supposed to be used for combat, when her black pumps can obviously do more.
For once, he's interested at something else other than law.
"Hinata," he says, ignoring the bewilderment on her face at the use of her first name, "I concede."
She blinks as she withdraws her foot from the zombie's face.
He tries not to wince.
"…What?"
"Help me find the shelter," Itachi elaborates, straining not to look away from the mirth in her opal eyes. "And in return, I will help you find your family."
"There's no need." She steps out of her Jimmy Choos (at least, he thinks they're Jimmy Choo. They can't possibly be Gucci) and throws her Vans onto the ground. "If they aren't at the shelter then that's it."
"Pardon?"
"T-There's no way they made it out of the city. If by s-some miracle they did, then good for them. It's… It is better we find each other when this m-madness is over."
He is once again surprised at her negativity. "You're awfully pessimistic, aren't you?"
Red paints her skin from the neck up. "I-I just think it's pointless," she mumbles, stuffing her feet into her sneakers. "Ha-Hanabi was alone at home when it happened, father was at a… a conference in Saitama and—and Neji had gone out to check the situation. After he went to the lobby, I-I never found him again."
Although he doesn't know who this Neji is, he knows for sure that he isn't her boyfriend (he hopes so). "If your sister is as ridiculous as you are, then she should be fine."
She laughs a little at that. "She's a spitfire."
He smiles in return. "Then we'll find her." He doesn't comment on the tears that gather in her eyes. "I swear it."
Hinata drags her star-filled gaze to his face, glassy and exhausted. "O-Okay," she says, her lips wobbling. "Okay."
Later that night, after Hinata showers off the black blood, she will walk out to find an onigiri and pickled cucumbers waiting for her alongside a carton of mango juice that Itachi had managed to find in the Family Mart not far from their location. And she will thank him because, well, she loves onigiri. So she will wholeheartedly give him her stash of sweets as payment.
For the first time in a long while, she will find herself falling into a deep sleep to the sound of zombies and the steady heartbeat of an Uchiha.
.
.
Their next raid is at a clothing store. Hinata doesn't really mind repeating her two sets of clothes for the majority of their travel unlike Itachi. He claimed he would rather risk the danger if he could get fresh clothes rather than wear the same pairs for the rest of his life.
Hinata laughed at him then and gave in. Hence why she's fighting off two zombies at once while Itachi struggles with one not far behind her.
"This… is all your fault!" she gasps, swatting away an arm with her metal rod and shoving her heel into the undead's face. The blood that coats her foot is warm. "If we had just…!"
He doesn't respond. Instead, he helps her finish off the last of the corpses and offers her his coat to wipe off the blood. He looks torn. "We're alright, are we not?"
"F-For now."
She kind of wants to scream, which is unusual, because Hyuugas do not scream. They brood and simmer with heat. They hold their chins high, looking down from their noses to seem more significant, as they burn quietly with their inner turmoil. And Hinata supposes that she's barely a Hyuuga in the first place. She is soft in the areas that are meant to be crisp and chiseled, like crafted statues in the name of beauty. Where there should be a tiger is a kitten, meek and terrified of the bigger world. But kittens are not always afraid. Like felines, she can bite when need be.
Like now, she is on the verge of pulling at her hair. "Hurry before more of them come," she quips, annoyed, and wanders off towards the women's aisle.
She marvels at Itachi's extravagant personality. On the outside, he doesn't seem like someone who cares about brands or the quality of the material of his suit. But days of tolerating each other's presence has taught her facts about Uchiha Itachi, how he is a total neat-freak and that he likes his clothes to be of top quality.
Hinata manages to find a good shirt and a light jacket to replace her blazer, the latter the color of lilac (later, Itachi will tell her that it matches her eyes) and a reminder of all the good in the world. In the next aisle, there are thick platform boots next to stilettos, and she looks between the two thoughtfully.
"Grab the heels," Itachi pipes in from over her shoulder. "Boots don't suit you. Go for something classic though, like kitten heels, because those will surely break in combat."
But her pride is crumpled and she puffs her cheeks. "I can rock them if I try!"
He chuckles. "Sure, Hinata, in another universe you might." He hands her a folded corporate attire, complete with an inside dress shirt and slacks, which she is thankful for because she had not enjoyed running in a ripped pencil skirt. He smirks when he notices her stare. "Saint Laurent and Escada—no tear or smudges; a treasure find, if I do say so myself."
But she's distracted. "I can—I can so wear boots!" To support her argument, she adds, "I was once a goth!"
Itachi hums in response. "Alright, but can they pierce zombie flesh?"
She is silent.
"I thought so."
Hinata's frown deepens as he hands her another set of clothes. "Peach John, in case you tire of office wear."
"This is s-stupid," she tells him as she gingerly puts her new outfits in a duffel bag. "We're going to be fighting not… not doing office work."
He surprises her yet again when he says, "I'd rather fight in style than look like one of them."
"Ca—Camouflage?"
He glares at her ever so slightly. "Are you assuming I could ever look like one of them?"
The laugh that escapes Hinata is her answer.
.
.
They are trapped inside of a Family Mart and Itachi is trying to keep his breakfast inside of his stomach.
"Uchiha-san," Hinata says in a slow tone that is also firm, reminding him that he doesn't have the luxury to internally worry about the possibility of being eaten alive by a corpse or that he might be depositing his early meal in a pile of disgusting liquid onto the floor soon—that he must focus on the task of staying alive in the face of eight zombies.
He inches closer to Hinata, subtly hiding her behind him though he knows, with certainty, that he cannot protect her better than she can protect him. But as a man, he has a dignified duty to keep this woman safe. For not only had she saved him—she had given him shelter and company that he would carefully admit he enjoys. To some extent.
He's thinking again.
"How do we do this?" he asks casually in a false act of calm. He is anything but. "Got your heels?"
"Heels don't—they won't work well with this large of a group."
Itachi swallows. He's wondering why she's whispering when the snarls of the zombies are so loud that he can barely hear her. Added with the banging they are doing, as hands and bodies slam into glass and the barricaded doors rattle with every forced attempt of entry, it is by far, the loudest and most terrifying sound he's ever heard.
Hinata throws him a mop's pole and nods, catching his stare with a ferocity that has him anchored.
"Don't—don't die on me, Uchiha-san," she manages to say, mouth quivering. "P-Please."
When she says it like that, how could he ever say no?
Before he can even muster a reply, the glass shatters and zombies are spilling through the windows.
He sees Hinata grip the twin butcher knives in her hands a little tighter. His chest constricts with the idea of her death though he doesn't dare find the reason why. And the feeling lasts for only a second before it's replaced by an adrenaline rush that courses through his veins like wildfire, because in the next few minutes, he is fighting alongside her and he vows that she will make it out of this alive.
Itachi slams the pole against a zombie with a force that would put a batter to shame. The hit makes it stagger to side, only to receive Hinata's knives with its neck.
A head tumbles across the black-stained floor.
He keeps the bile in his throat as he smashes another one of them against the alcohol aisle, grabbing a broken wine bottle and stabbing it repeatedly against its face. Two come to his left and he's spinning, clutching the dear pole with all his might, and pins one down by shoving the end of the pole in its mouth. Hinata crushes its skull against the tiles with a heavy boot while dealing with zombies of her own, back bending backwards while the zombie's mouth bites onto her blade. He watches, with unconcealed horror, as her knife slices through the cheeks, then the ears. It comes out clean, and half of the zombie's head splatters on the floor amongst the shards of broken bottles.
Itachi closes his eyes out of instinct, and then he is choking at his mistake as he hears Hinata grunting. He whirls around to see her battling the last three zombies by herself, one of her knives somehow missing, tears streaming down her cheeks and a piece of broken glass in her hand, cutting through skin and—
He had never felt such a burning hatred for the color red.
The third zombie is at her blind spot and if he doesn't move now, he'll lose her. He will lose her and he will blame himself for all of eternity so why the fuck aren't you moving?!
He grabs the forgotten butcher knife on the floor and somehow he's shoving her behind him. Suddenly, he hears nothing but the sobs that leave her lips, and he brings down the knife with all of the force he can muster. He slices through flesh—through muscle and veins and tendons, and heads are tumbling away, blood splattering like paint against his skin.
Then—then everything is quiet.
Itachi is the first to break the silence.
He makes it to a corner before he retches so hard he is bending over and tears pool in the corners of his eyes. Everything he had eaten prior to their raid was now gone.
He feels a hand on his back and he glances to see Hinata beside him, rubbing soothing circles over his shoulders and down the length of his spine. He shudders under her touch and his eyes burn.
"I apologize," he tells her, his voice so quiet he can't even hear himself. But her hand stills as if she'd heard. "I let you get hurt."
"I-It was my own fault, Uchiha-san." She resumes her gentle stroking. "Please don't b-blame yourself."
He clenches his jaw. "How's your hand?"
"I—I'm okay."
Itachi catches her off-guard by grabbing her wrist and lifting her hand to his face. She's protesting, squeaking like a strangled bird, but he can't hear her. There's a buzz in his ears that won't go away. Not when he sees what her hand had endured.
One of her fingers twitches. Her palm is caked with dried blood. There'd been so much of it that they even got under her nails, and her flesh was sliced in so many places that he wants to look away but he can't.
He knows now that red will never look good on Hinata.
"Let's go," he says hoarsely, "before we encounter more of them."
She nods. "Y-Yeah."
When they get up, he sees the way she tries to hide her limp, and once again he is angry at himself. Wordlessly, he hooks her arm around his shoulder and helps her walk out of the Family Mart. Together they leave the mess behind, their bags full of re-stocked supply over their backs, thankfully untouched. He wishes that had been the case for Hinata too.
In the evening, when they are both finished with their personal agendas (in this case, Hinata taking a shower and Itachi brooding), she will find that Itachi has the gentlest fingers when he wraps her hand in bandages. And when he's done, when the moon is high up in the sky and the moaning of zombies fill the night, he will turn away from her invitation to sleep. And he will not tell her why.
.
.
"How's your hand?" he asks, after hours of ignorance, handing her fresh bandages.
She smiles at him, albeit a little solemn. "It's fine, Uchiha-san."
"Itachi."
She blinks. "W-What?"
"Call me Itachi," he mumbles and stands, bringing a change of clothes with him. "I think we're past formalities by now."
"I—I see." She swallows. "Are you—"
The door slams shut and she closes her mouth.
He ignores her again.
.
.
"Itachi?"
Hinata counts the seconds of silence when he tries to avoid her. Sixty-two. Sixty-three. Sixty-four. Sixty-five.
"Staring is rude."
Sixty-five seconds. A new record (not for being the longest, but for being the shortest time of self-restraint he's had).
"How's your hand?"
"B-Better."
"Hn."
She gives him another chocolate bar, if only to bribe him, and reaches for the caffeinated drink he's attempting to hide from her behind his back. The chink of metal as she pops the can open is loud at this time of the night.
"Itachi?" she repeats, eyes focused on the moon outside the window. "Why a-are you a lawyer?"
He glances at her sideways. "Why do you ask?"
"J-Just curious."
When he doesn't reply, she decides to finally unwrap herself and bare her secrets to him, because if not now, then when? She doesn't want to die without anyone truly knowing her. And though Itachi's hardly the best person to open herself up to, there's no one else. She'd rather it be him than anyone else.
Hinata takes a long swig of her Red Bull. "I wanted to be a d-doctor," she starts quietly, gently, not for him but for her, because the dream is as fragile as a newborn infant. She's afraid. "I-I studied nursing as my pre-med with money I saved up from p-past allowances and summer jobs because father would—he would never pay for it. I got a… a scholarship and finished."
He's leaning on her now, their arms pressed tightly against each other and the tips of his unbound hair tickling her bare shoulder. It takes him a few seconds more to ask, "What happened?"
She smiles, the memory fond as much as it was stressful. "F-Father called me just a few days before I was set to continue my studies. Hanabi had ran away because she wanted to be part of the a-air force, so as punishment to her, I… was to stop my schooling and take up business management a-and business economics so that I would one day take over the company. I-If not me, then her."
He mouths the words with her when she says, "I'd rather it be me than her."
The silence that follows is thick but not entirely unpleasant. Hinata looks back on her choices and knows that if given the chance, she would pick the same route and still choose to chain herself to the family than go after her own dreams if it meant giving Hanabi her freedom. There's just no other way. No excuses.
"Uchihas are born to be policemen—or my father says."
Their fingers are mere centimeters away when he shifts, and she sucks in a sharp breath, focusing on his words to stop the blush from spreading further across her skin.
"As the eldest, I was meant to be the role model to Sasuke and I intended to be. But my high school life had led me down a different path. It deviated from my family's values, where they caught the bad guys. I wanted to be at the forefront—to be the push that saves people from lifetime behind bars and to be the savior in dark lives. I suppose in a way, I'm part of the justice scene too," he says, pausing to look at her, "but I don't always fight for the good in front of the Judge."
"…I see."
He smiles grimly. "Most of the time, I'm being sought out by politicians whose pockets are deep with stolen riches. I started to miss fighting for those who actually needed to be fought for. In the end, I won cases for the rich, the corrupt, and the unjust. I realized that in the end, my father was right."
She finally gathers the courage to cross that distance with her fingers, weaving them through his and holding onto him for dear life.
"Uchihas were born to be policemen. It would've made me happier."
"M-My father used to tell me that all Hyuuga are born to serve the c-company and its p-p-purpose," she mumbles into the dark. "But I know that he's—wrong," she pauses amidst her stutter, "Some apples are meant to be eaten as they are while some… some are turned into apple pie or… or apple juice. W-Whatever the case may be, we are all meant to be something more."
Hinata is lost in his eyes. "Itachi?"
"Hm?"
"I… I can—I can hear your heart," she whispers.
He cocks his head to the side. "Are you sure it's not yours?" he murmurs back, eyelids lowering. "You are always wrong for many reasons, Hinata."
She swallows hard and licks her lips. "H-How so?"
"For one…" Itachi drawls, breathing gently against her quivering lips. "I think you need me as much as I need you."
When they kiss at last, she thinks of the probability of death, and how they are waiting at its doors.
a/n: there's the first part! The reason why I'm posting is probably because I need comments to see if I'm doing a proper job at this story or if I should just scrap it. hahaha scared itachi is cute. ooc, yes, but i like to think that if he were in an au, he wouldn't be the big bad scary uchiha that children whisper about at night.
and i know heels aren't that strong, but let's pretend that they are, okay?
please leave a review~