I do not usually put warnings up above, but given how much I intend to put in this story, I wanted to be fair to my readers.
This work has Original Characters in it. They are prominent to the story. If you do not like original characters mixing with canon characters, please do not read my story.
There will be future pairings to this story. I plan to have heterosexual and homosexual relationships. (Nothing graphic.) If these types of pairings make you uncomfortable, please do not read my story. I cannot "cut out" these pairs as they are vital to the story's plot.
This is the only warning I will give about these matters. If you do not like either of the above, please do not read this story. There are hundreds of other stories out there that you can enjoy.
Thank you for your time.
Part 1: The Line Between Mother and Child
The child is sitting on the hospital bed. His body is covered in various bandages and wraps. The skin that is left open is patches of tan and purple bruises. Even his head is bandaged tight around the skull, forcing wavy blond hair into a mess. He can't be more than ten years old. He had gain consciousness a while ago, but had yet to talk. On the opposite wall of the hospital room sit two businessmen, whom he does not know. His bright green eyes glance at the two men in turn every so often, but he does nothing else. The elder of the two, though not by much, is sitting with quiet trepidation. The younger is leaning against the wall, looking as though he is going to fall asleep. Neither has attempted to talk to the boy either. The silence is stifling.
Long minutes pass. The hospital had not been able to get into direct contact with the boy's parents, instead reaching a secretary who said she would pass on the message. For this reason, everything is in a stalemate. The hospital staff, the businessmen, and the little boy are all waiting for the parents to make their entrance.
After twenty minutes of the boy staring at a wall, the sound of a door latch releasing fills the room. Loud footsteps follow. A woman walks into the room, tan hands on her dark pantsuit, and a quirk to her eyebrow. She struts into the room with an air of annoyance and authority. Her attitude expresses explicit aggravation. Her posture suggest she expects immediate answers with little delay. Teal eyes, rich but unreadable, are narrowed down sharp. They glance at the men for a moment, but she dismisses them in favor of the little boy on the cot. She tilts her head, giving the patient a once over. Her hair, in two high, bushy, blonde ponytails, shuffles just a bit as she shakes her head.
"Honestly, look at you," she mumbles in a voice that suggests she's speaking to herself. Her voice is a bit rough, but undeniably feminine. Her posture tilts, leaving one hand on her full hip. She eyes the boy again. "Your mom's going to be in here soon. Anything you want to tell me before that happens?"
The boy on the cot looks off to the side. He stares at the wall. His face is pointed downward, trying to hide his expression from the woman. "They're gonna kill it."
"It? Don't mumble," the woman commands. Her voice falls into an even rougher tone of annoyance.
He clutches the thin sheet. "They were gonna kill the cat," the boy tries again. His voice is just a tad louder, a tad angry.
The room falls silent. His fists continue to shake as the heart monitor beeps in concern. The woman says nothing back. There is no need.
"I see," A new, smooth voice replies. There is the soft click of heels on tile as a new woman enters the hospital room. She stands tall with a distinct air of nobility and purpose. Her lips are thin but firm set and luscious red. Her eyes are keen, thin, glowing in gold under her bangs. Her hair, black like obsidian, is cut short to her skull in the back of her head. The front, however, gave way to long bangs framing her face and reaching to her chest. She is thin, lean, and confident. Her pale skin, though mostly covered by a very conservative professional pantsuit, is luminescent. The air shutters more around her as she focuses all attention on the child.
"You fought for a cat." Her voice is strong, smooth and sure. It is not a question.
"I protected it," the patient clarifies. His voice is soft, shaky, and scared.
"From who?"
The child shrugs a bit, green eyes downcast. "Bullies. Teens, probably."
"Did you fight back?" There is an additional infliction in the woman's voice.
"No," the boy shouts, and he looks directly at the new woman for the first time. His green eyes flash in panic. He looks like he's both scared and angered by the question. "Never," he insists more. "I wouldn't— I would never fight back." His body shakes with his conviction. The monitor beeps erratically.
There is a drawn out pause. The woman eyes the boy in this time. She looks into his eyes, studies his face, and observes his bandaged body. "I see," she murmurs and moves up close to his bedside. He is still watching her with big wary eyes. She holds his gaze captive in her golden eyes, two small slits more than enough to keep him frozen in place. "Where is this cat?"
He blinks, eyes moving just a bit, but not far. The twitch alone is enough though. The woman cocks her head before moving her eyes to the cardboard box sitting in the visitor's chair. The lid flaps are down, either to keep the contents hidden or to keep its contents inside. She stares at that box for a long second, as if it were giving her information. The box says nothing to her though. The woman then looks back to the child.
Her posture shifts, she blinks once and her eyes soften. Her hand reaches out, moving onto the boy's head and pushing him closer to her. "I see. Thank goodness." Her voice is still strong, but the tone has changed. "I am glad it is okay. I am glad you are okay." She rakes fingers through thick sandy hair. The unruly waves part without complaint with each motion of her hand. Her movements are slow and languid. They offer a gentle comfort and her words are kind and sincere. Her posture has softened drastically, leaving a warm aurora around her person. "You protected it well," the woman assures the child. Her eyes, still sharp, hold a passionate swirl within. "You did a good job, Ahshi."
The boy blinks again, surprised to be praised, but eagerly leans into her touch. A small smile appears on his lips. His eyes droop close as he accepts the other's security and support. The woman brings up her other hand, gently grazing over the bandage on his cheek and moving to the wrapping across his neck and shoulder. She continues to comb his hair as she checks Ahshi's injuries with care.
"I have already finished the paperwork with Sakura," the mother starts again as she finishes her inspection. She moves away from the child in her arms and looks him in the eye. "Temari is going to take you and the cat home. We will take it to the vet tomorrow morning for treatment. Your sister is very worried about you. You should apologize to her properly once you get back."
Ahshi frowns a bit. His nose scrunches up. "Fine." His tone says it's really not.
The blonde woman, who had remained off to the side, moves forward. She picks the cardboard box up off the chair. There is a smirk on her face at this point. The aggravation has dissipated from her form into something more teasing than upset. "Come on, kid. We'll stop and get ice cream."
At Temari's promise, the boy grins and jumps off the bed. He's still in hospital clothes, but knows he can change in the hall. The golden-eyed woman frowns.
"Do not feed him ice cream. You will ruin his dinner."
Temari snorts. "Yeah, okay, I won't, mother hen." Her tone suggests she isn't going to abide by this promise. The grinning boy beside her replicates this sentiment. The two leave together, before the mother could make a more solid demand. Just as Temari is out the door she calls back. "Don't worry, I'll get something for Umshi too."
The woman frowns, but she looks more annoyed than angered. She eyes the door a moment longer before turning to the two males still within the room. This is the first time she has acknowledged either. They stare at each other in turn. The woman moves forward, her hand outstretched.
"Forgive my rudeness," she begins, "I should have introduced myself properly at the beginning. My apologies." Her posture is perfect and her voice is intensely polite. The stiff aurora has returned. The older of the two moves to accept her hand. It is warm. It feels like he is holding fire within his palm. "My name is Mesua Fenikkusu."
"Itachi Uchiha. President of the Uchiha Corporation."
Mesua nods. She releases his hand to take the younger male's hand into her grip. She shakes it firmly as well.
"Shikamaru Nara." The male manages to look more alert than before, but not by much. His posture still leans as though he isn't ready to stand and converse. "Assistant to the vice president."
She nods again, eyes trained on Shikamaru. There is a pause. "Forgive me, but I would like to know why you are here." Her tone shows no malice, but it isn't that curious either. If anything, she sounds like she expects an explanation.
Shikamaru takes the lead, explaining how the security footage to their office caught the whole thing. "Three teenage boys and one smaller child were seen on our cameras fighting behind the corporation's main building. The boy, your son, was beaten and left in the alley. When the security monitor discovered him, we called for an ambulance right away. Your son had a medical bracelet, stating he was to be brought to this hospital, so our company made sure to follow those directions." Shikamaru sighs after his explanation, one hand scratching at the back of his head.
Mesua listens to his words with narrowed eyes. Her face is smoothed over in thought; she does not show any expression—happiness, annoyance, or even anger, towards the information.
"We're here to offer any additional assistance you might need," Itachi concludes after the assistant. "Given that the event occurred on our property, we feel a sense of responsibility. Especially considering the incident was committed by minors." His tone is smooth and confident. He offers everything he can to appear apathetic to the situation. It's not much though, as Uchihas are not bred to be emotional beings.
Mesua nods once at his words. "That would explain why the bill is already paid." She stares down Itachi for a moment. Whether the look is intended to be menacing or not, he couldn't say. He refused to look away though. He's never been the type to be intimidated.
The mother looks away to the hospital bed for a moment, but her attention returns to the others. "If that is the case, please destroy the footage you spoke of. Please also destroy any paperwork you can on the matter. I do not want any records of the event to be available." Mesua offers no explanation as to why. "Given that you also paid for the hospital visit, I must ask that you cancel it immediately so that it does not appear on your company's financial records. I will pay for the visit. It is not a problem." Her tone offers no chance for argument.
Both males blink. The shock is apparent in Shikamaru's face, but Itachi hides his confusion well.
"So, what you're basically asking us to do is to forget about the whole thing," Shikamaru clarifies.
"Yes, exactly that."
"May we ask why?" Itachi raises a slim eyebrow.
The mother in question looks at the president. Her eyes flash briefly, as though it were just a trick of the light. "No, I am afraid that it is a complicated matter. However, it would be best if you and your company let this event go. My child is fine; the cat will be handled. I see no reason you should dwell on this further." As if to prove this point, the woman moves away. Her feet are light upon the floor. Before leaving the room, Mesua turns back to the businessmen, and there is a gentle, abet small, smile on her face. "Thank you for everything you have done up until this point. I am sorry if I do not appear grateful. I am." She bows her head for a moment in thanks. "I am sorry, but please make sure to do as I asked. That is really what is best. And thank you again. Have a wonderful evening, Mister Uchiha. Mister Nara." Soft footsteps signal her retreat.
Not even moments after she left, Shikamaru's hand raises to scratch at his ponytail. "Apparently, this could have been a lot less troublesome."
"Indeed," replies Itachi. He eyes the door for a moment. "If you still have those public notary papers for me to sign, shred them."
"You really want to get rid of everything?" His voice suggests annoyance over shock.
"Of course. It's what the lady asked. The hospital bill, however, is of no concern." The two leave the room and walk down a white corridor. "I paid for it with my own account, not the company's."
"A little weird," Shikamaru yawns from behind his hand. He falls into step behind the older male.
"Perhaps. I felt it would be better for the company not to have such a bill on their records. It seems Miss Fenikkusu is in a similar line of thinking." Itachi offers nothing more as explanation.
A doctor approaches the two. She is the same doctor who worked on the child. The same doctor that the child was to specifically see, as his medical band had stated. Her big green eyes and bright hair is unmistakable. The doctor has a manila folder in her hands and a curious look on her face. "Excuse me, but Mesua just asked me to cancel your payment and replace it with her own. I have the information on file, but I must verify it with you first. Policy, you know." She eyes the Uchiha with for a moment, her obvious attraction towards him showing. But she does nothing more than look as she waits for his reply.
"Please do not cancel it," Itachi replies. He decides to use a bit of charm to keep the argument short, and gives the woman the most polite persona an Uchiha can create. "Her concern was that my company would be involved, but the account I gave you is my own. I don't mind paying for this at all."
Green eyes flicker with confusion for a moment, and the doctor frowns. "I see." She brushes a strawberry blonde strand of hair from her face as she opens the file. "I don't think that Mesua will be okay with that though. She insisted on paying."
"So do I, Doctor Sakura Haruno." Itachi replies, using the name on her nametag as an emphasis. Itachi offers no room for argument. "If she should find a problem with me personally paying for this, please ask Miss Fenikkusu to call me. We can discuss the situation if she is so adamant about it."
He nods once, signaling he wants no more to do with this conversation, and leaves the doctor. Sakura stands awe struck in the hallway. Neither Itachi nor Shikamaru pay her any mind.
It's not until they are in the company car that either speaks another word. It is Shikamaru though, who talks first. "You're acting weird," the assistant comments. He eyes his boss. "You insisted quite heavily, for you. If I didn't know any better, I would say you wanted her to contact you."
Itachi glances at the other from the corner of his eye. A classic smirk, one that every Uchiha can perform, is on his face. "Perhaps. I guess you could say I'm curious about this. She was very insistent that this small event be wiped from our records." He looks back out the window. The smirk is now accompanied by a spark within dark eyes. "I find the conversation between the two to have been intriguing as well. Although, I'm not so interested as to do any snooping of my own. Perhaps she will take the bait."
Shikamaru sighs from his seat. "I doubt it. She didn't seem daft in the least. I think we should just avoid the issue. Both those women looked really troublesome."
Nothing more on the matter is said.
Three weeks pass. Mesua Fenikkusu does not call.