A taken challenge from the lovely Shnizel, who is plausibly one of the most enthusiastic members on this site. AU. Itahina. Powers without normal chakra referencing. Some family corps perspective. Title; Distractions.
Wet warped cardboard littered the alleyway, ancient and half dipped into the puddles that congregated on the slabs of concrete, unable to drain and stagnating with mosquitos. Wires and Ventilation ducts clung by their figurative fingertips to the sides of the buildings, the lack of the soft burring the only indication that the houses to either side of the alleyway were deserted. Only two figures graced that dismal scene, their presence dwarfed by the darkness that encapsulated them and the sheer ugliness of their surroundings. One was small, unmistakeably female, and shaking, her knees knocking into each other. The other was tall, and leered over her.
There's something surreal in this particular situation, Hinata supposes, as the assassin inches closer, and the cold barrel of the revolver's silencer bores into her forehead, trapping a lock of her fringe.
Her throat clenches, and for a moment nausa sweeps over her, creeping up her spine and sweeping into her bones, chilling her insides. It subsides, and she's almost bitter that she's left back in reality.
The gravity of the situation feels like a daydream. She's too young to die, her worries are still unresolved and her love hasn't acknowledged her. She hasn't even grown out her hair yet, and it barely brushes her shoulders, in the awkward phase between short and mid-length. She can't die. Not possibly. She's only seventeen. She can't die, not now, and not ever. As far as she's aware, she's immortal. She's never broken any bones, nor has she ever felt real pain, save that of stubbing her toe or getting a splinter in her finger.
But the only thing she can think about is the fact that he's trapped her hair, and that if he messes up her hair, upon which she has spent more time than usual, she'll kill him.
Well. She might not have that much of a choice. Messed up hair or no hair, if he pulls that trigger, she'll be gone, ghosted into oblivion, and she can't allow that to happen, at least, not yet. Not here, in such and ugly, horrible place.
She realises now that living is imperative. Survival is an order. If she has to kill to live, she'll do just that.
So she turns to him, and whispers in a voice oscillating with trembles that she'll like her last wish now, if he could please.
He's an egotistic bastard, and her husky forced whispers only tickle his ego.
He smirks and her hand moves towards her coat pocket, only for the assassins face to freeze and jab the gun further into her face. He's not a pretty man, by anyone's standards, and he's probably not gullible either.
She's gullible though. She looks innocent too, with those big watching eyes and petite features. There's more child than woman in that face. He wouldn't have been able to force her down here in the first place if it wasn't for that quality.
"There's… a box of smokes, and a l-l-lighter." She mewled, and watched the henchman obliges her, shrinking away from his hand delving into her layer of protective fabric. "I-I-I… want a fag…"
The words, short and curt and awful sound odd on her quivering lips, but the henchman simply starts a little. He's going to kill her. He isn't going to lecture a seventeen year old on the dangers of smoking when he'll be blowing her head off the moment the embers of her cig die out, and the remnants of her last puff curdle on her lips.
Except she probably won't have lips after he pulls the trigger. Head implosion and blood explosion imminent, and all that.
He pulls out the box of "Twin Lion" cigarettes, and the blue box glints dangerously in the light. He's slightly surprised, surprised that such a meek girl would smoke in this day and age, when smoking is so demonised. Mind you, that demonization is for a good reason, and Hyuuga Hinata has a good reason for wanting a cancer stick smouldering between her lips.
Her hand shakes taking the box, her fingers twitching in anticipation of the fix. With an almost expert hand, she shakes the pack, dislodging a cigarette and picking it up between her teeth. The assassin arches an eyebrow.
The cigarette is soon tucked between her lips, at a somewhat uncomfortable angle away from her mouth. The assassin's hand hovers too close by her face for comfort and the lighter splutters into life. He does not notice the fact that there is no lighter fluid inside it.
The cigarette starts to light, and the lighter is placed back into her pocket, unnoticed and uncared for. The cigarette glows ethereally in the dark of the alleyway, red and angry and violent. Her eyes look so innocent, almost surprised that the cigarette is balanced there-poised between her lips. Her eyes cloud over, inhaling the sweet smoke, allowing it to fix to her insides, and seep into her.
She takes a long drag. The cigarette smoulders, and ash drops off the end. The assassin's wrist starts to ache, and he jams the gun further into her head, signifying his impatience.
The far off look in the girl's eyes disappears, and she comes back to life, and she stares at him like she had forgotten his existence. It's almost as if the nicotine is an opiate, her eyes are so glazed over.
"M-mwy mawjic ith thathter whan w-wour bwullet." She whispers, forgetting the cigarette dangling between her lips and the smoke curling out of her mouth.
"Pardon?" The assassin asks, curious and slightly interested. Luckily for her, and unluckily for him, he has been collecting a series of his victim's last words.
I told you he was an egotistic bastard.
Her plump pink lips manoeuvre the cigarette to the corner of her mouth, and her mouth widens enough for him to see her white teeth. "My magic." She replied. "Is faster. Than your bullet."
"Really." Hissed the assassin, his seething sarcasm a front for the confusion he felt at not understanding a statement. His finger hitched in the trigger, muscles taunt and ready to blow the small girl's head in.
"You're really going to do it." Whispered the girl, the look in her eyes suddenly a million miles away again, and downcast, and apologetic. "S-sorry." She whispers. She looks back up, and promises. "I'll make it quick."
The assassin jerks his hand away slightly as he initiates the beginning of the end. The fag jerks upwards in her mouth as fumes escape her nostrils, her eyes more glazed and empty than before. "Byakugan." She whispers, as if she were summoning a demon, but instead the skin around her eyes crawls with a lattice of veins made terrifying by the dark of the alleyway.
The fans of the ventilators spin and electricity crackles across wires left forsaken long, long ago. The stagnated water evaporates, and condenses in the air and mists, concealing the Hyuuga girl's crime from the rest of the world.
A slight strangled scream escapes the assassin's mouth and his finger moves to close the distance between it and the trigger, anything to get this demon girl away from him. But that's the last thing he sees, her face lighted with crackling, wicked energy and her eyes surrounded by writhing veins.
His body erupts into flames as if he were magnesium ribbon exposed to heat. The blue-white flames are gone in an instant, and the heiress drops to her knees, getting her skirt sodden and tearing her tights, exhausted by her endeavour. His dying screams echo around the disused alley, and, Hinata winces, having promised him a quick and easy death.
Control is somewhat of an issue for Hinata.
She raises her hand above the body, stretching out her palm and uttering short blasting statements that can be used without the verification of the byukugan. She claims the last vestiges of the assassin's life for herself and staggers to her feet, drunk-dizzy on the energy the assassin has provided her, but noting the remains of the gun by her feet. The warped metal of the gun has been twisted with the heat that she's conducted and with some fortitude she picks up the gun, analysing its usefulness.
She drops it to the floor. It's beyond useless now. The fact that seconds ago it was about to kill her doesn't quite register.
She's a little in shock.
She doesn't even register those last, gasping, short breaths from that assassin she's burnt up like a matchstick, or when they've past, the absence of them. Escape and survival is her only priority now.
She steps backwards, removing the stick from her lips. She stink of smoke clings to her body like silt sticks to her knees, and wisps of smoke curl from her pink mouth, escaping and spiralling into the air, weaving intricate patterns and textures that were invisible to any eye but hers.
The cigarette falls to the floor, suddenly ablaze with white flame. Nothing is left but ash.
She steps back again, her tiny steps timid but frequent, turning and entering the street, but not before glancing back one more time to survey the smoking wisp of a body that is the assassin before trudging out of the alleyway, wringing her skirt guiltily.
The deserted Uchiha compound has gained another ghost.
Itachi Uchiha is a quiet soul. He asks for no input into his life from anyone and doesn't expect to have to contribute to anyone else's, but unfortunately, forces exterior to his control had other ideas , namely one spoilt younger brother, beloved and very good at carving out unwanted niches in other people's hearts with his casual devil-may-care indifference.
"Ne, teme… do you fancy going out tonight? I've got a good feeling that tonight is the night…" Naruto asked his younger brother, ignoring that Sasuke's scary older brother was giving them a lift.
Itachi's car was small, smelt of mothballs, and had a picnic blanket draped over the back so when Itachi's old and half dead cat decided to sleep on the backseat, it left hairs on the blanket, and not the car interior. How the car had survived this long, Itachi had no idea, as it rumbled underneath them, straining when it needed to change gear, and threatening to stall whenever the opportunity arose.
Itachi had decided at the age of thirteen that whatever his father wanted, he would do the opposite. Whist Fugaku had requested to some things that Itachi had wanted to do, like going to university, Itachi had gone to university, but instead of doing a mathematics or banking or business degree, or really, anything that would have made his father happy, Itachi had gone in for a duel honours in English literature and the History of Art.
Oh the horror. Humanities.
Admittedly, as a struggling freelance/ unemployed writer now, that may have been a slight oversight on his part, but at least he wasn't tied to the family company.
Itachi watched Sasuke shrug in his mirror. "I don't aim to drape myself in women. It just doesn't appeal to me."
"Dude, are you gay or what?"
"More like asexual. Probably. I don't know." Sasuke's shrugs unaware that his emotionless admission simply frustrates Naruto, and slightly confuses his brother. Itachi's slightly worried that Sasuke hasn't shown interest in…anything.
Sasuke is the child that "forget" his sex ed homework because he had no desire to type in any of the key words into the family computer (Itachi hasn't quite figured out whether it was fear or simple indifference). Sasuke is the child that finds people of all ages, sexes and cultures boring. Sasuke is the child that describes people (later, Itachi realised that he was talking about Naruto) as "the one with the nose." or "the girl with the eyes." (Sakura) And expects people to understand.
Sasuke is an odd kid, no joke.
"Look, when you come out of the closet, I'll be there for you…no homo." Naruto nodded sagely. "We'll go to a gay bar! I've never had the guts to go alone. Could be fun, you know, lesbians and all."
Sasuke crumpled slightly, his face caught in deep thought and his eyebrows drawn downwards. Itachi turned back to the traffic.
Sexuality, had never quite occurred to Itachi at any age. He was aware that others had sexual preference but he had always left them to themselves. What other people did in the quiet of their rooms was no business to him, and what he did in his rooms was no business to anyone, and it was better left at that. Always.
If Sasuke liked men, Saskue liked men. If Sasuke liked women, Sasuke liked women. If Sasuke liked tantric threesomes with erotic asphyxiation, then Sasuke liked it. As long as he did whatever he liked far from the eyes of his brother, who abhorred public displays of affection, then Itachi was cool with it. Sasuke could be a part-time gigolo, but as long as Mikoto wasn't overtly distressed, Itachi couldn't care less. There were some things that Itachi had no desire to learn.
"…I don't fancy that sort of thing at all. I've got some home-work to get seen to." Good old predictable Sasuke.
"Awh, teme…" The whine was more friendly tease than insult, and both Itachi and Sasuke knew it.
The Uchiha shook his head and crossed his arms, and Naruto knew better to pursue the conversation. Sasuke had that look in his eye that meant the mysterious boy had something on his mind, and Naruto had learnt through trial and error that that look often meant an idea had consumed Sasuke, and the boy simply wanted to think.
Naruto accepted this and looked out of the window. Itachi silently observed, calculating and analysing the boy, suddenly curious as to what effect the Uzamaki boy would have in his brother's life.
After dropping the two boys at school, the Uchiha soon found himself in his apartment, extrapolating his thoughts and drawing out conclusions, conclusions that could then be proved if he so had the time. He entered the space in his flat where the estate agent had specified would be a lounge.
As soon as he moved in, he redecorated, covering the pale peach wallpaper with a white coat of paint and laying down a light wooden floor board. The room was bare, save for three whiteboards that line the three other walls, and a heap of fountain pens lying in a corner between two of the boards. All the same brand, all identical and brand new, barely out of their cardboard casing and virgin. They had never been pressed to paper. He found that it tainted them.
Itachi strode over to the pens and extracted one, tapping the side and making sure there was an excess of ink. That there was. He sighed and set it down in the middle of the room, moving to his small kitchenette and setting down his coat before picking up an ink pot for when he ran out. Luck favoured the prepared.
He stepped into the lounge, his socks slipping on the oiled floorboards, and paced to the pen picking it up, tapping it for ink again, and when fully satisfied, he smirked a little, then paused.
His arrogance often led to spilt ink that needed to be cleaned up. He needed to concentrate wholly and fully on the technique.
He sighed and closed his eyes, smashing his eyelids together and allowing his head to allow for one thought, and one thought only.
Nothing happened in that moment, but he cleared his mind of any other thoughts. He muttered "Uzamaki Naruto" in a grave voice, opening his left eye, and poising the pen slightly between his long, white piano-player fingers.
"Naruto Uzamaki." He said again, just as gravely, but addressing the head of the pen. The pen glinted in response.
A blob of ink floated from the tip of the fountain pen and bubbled upwards. Itachi felt the pull of his energy through the pen. The floating ink oozed Itachi's essence, and as if on command, the ink from the pen bubbled out, infused with his own energy.
The ink began to spiral in bubbles around his body, extrapolating and developing until a sketchy helix of strands of black ink swirled and shimmered lethargically around the Uchiha.
"Naruto Uzamaki." He repeated, biting his lip. Normally, this was a basic, simple procedure. He'd never come across a person that caused the ink to act as it did- saturated and heavy. The boy was going to do a lot of living, or something was wrong. Itachi had been wrong before- some people just made the ink rebel and twist, and it was always when the person he had had in mind had concealed basic elements of themselves that gave Itachi the wrong impression, and messed the readings up.
Itachi had never been able to read his Uncle Madara for instance.
Bubbles budded off the helix, and Itachi noticed with a grimace that the cartridge of the pen had emptied, so he drew up ink from the bottle he had placed by his socked feet with a curl of his free hand. Ink rose and laced through the fountain pen, providing more ink. More ink bubbles entered the room.
The helix began to move, shimmering with strands of colour that diffused out of the black of the ink. The ink shimmered with mixed colour, but orange was prevalent, bold and blaring. Itachi smirked and for a millisecond the ink paused and began to fall, merging back into black.
Itachi jerked, and closed his mind. "Naruto Uzamaki." He conferred . From the corner of his eye he spied the tentacle of ink ceasing flow from the pen, and the helix lazily started into separate chords that moved towards the whiteboards of the room, gliding and glistening like tentacles of a deformed, demented octopus.
Bubbles and strands gravitated to the whiteboard, and adhered. As Itachi was standing in the middle of the room, one board was to his left, one to the right, and one to his front.
Past. Future. Present. The life of Naruto Uzamaki etched into three cheap whiteboards.
The one to the left was that of the past. The lines on it compressed with each moment, symbolising the moment had passed, and that these things were etched in stone. Naruto's life had been a busy one as the tendrils of ink had formed many, many lines. There was Naruto's lifeline, orange and obvious, and there at around thirteen years of age, a blue one crashed into Naruto's.
"Sasuke I presume." Itachi murmured, following his brothers line with the tip of his nose. Two others formed intricate patterns with Naruto's line too, grey and pink, Kakashi and Sakura.
"How many people does this kid know?" Itachi asked himself, swatting away a bubble of ink that had not been used up. It splattered all over his hand, but Itachi continued analysing, noting that smaller, less active and less outstanding equations also mirrored or were parallel the Uzamaki kid, but did so at a further distance. Occasionally, lines and their component lives would intercept with Uzamaki's, and either tag along with his for a little while, or meet later, or simply streak though, a chance encounter, never to meet again.
He noted that Naruto's lifeline had always been an orange, but a red equation that had disappeared early on in life had tainted the orange with a darker red. It wasn't of consequence, so he ignored it.
Lines that suddenly stopped normally indicated that a life had ended. Itachi was not interested in the dead, especially the dead of a person he was observing for a sudden moment of curiosity.
He turned to the white board representing the present. Instead of lines, Dots appeared on this graph, wiggling and moving around in clusters, representing lives. He wasn't surprised to see the little orange dot that was oscillating slightly, boggling around in white space, and those dots that he had picked up earlier- Sasuke, Sakura and Kakashi were vibrating close by indicating their presence. Other blossoms of colour that corresponded to the minor lines on the board hovered close by. Itachi watched the blue and orange suddenly congregate.
Spying was one thing, but this was on a totally different level.
By that Itachi supposed it was far superior.
He turned to the future board, the board that normally held no interest for him. Steaks of Uzamaki's life line flickered constantly, like a strobe light, and in different directions. As of the moment there were no less than eighteen futures that Uzamaki could partake in, depending on what he did at this given time. His eyes flickered past the board, but then turned back, his sharingan flickering in suspicion.
All of the lifelines contained Sakura and Kakashi, bobbing in and out, no real correlation to it.
There was Sasuke's line, at the median, leaving Naruto's line behind. It flickered almost constantly, but was still. It was as if Sasuke's line was dictating Naruto's- as if Naruto and Sasuke's futures were bound together. Sasuke was a constant in the Uzamaki's life- but the lines were not meeting, but instead, running parallel.
Itachi puzzled over this for a moment. Naruto and Sasuke's lives had been so closely intertwined, why had they spilt, and why were their lines running together, but not meeting?
Were they to be separated, but never far from each other's thoughts?
He turned to the present board, analysing the dots. There they were, pink, blue and orange. Itachi turned to the future board and stared. All of the potential future lines that kept on sparking up or dying or even twisting and changing direction. Something was happening, right now, that kept on twisting Naruto's future.
What was inevitable though was Sasuke and Naruto's separation.
Something hissed on the present board, something potent, and Itachi's eyes were drawn to the board.
A minor blip in Naruto's life line had suddenly become massive. It seared with the same intensity as Sasuke and Sakura's in a dull, off-white grey.
He turned back to the future board. In all of the possible futures (and there were fifteen now) Naruto and Sasuke's lines were comfortably snug, like they had been for the majority of their friendship. That rouge white line represented something, someone big that had come into Naruto's life.
The future board flickered, back to the separation of Sasuke and Naruto. And then the rouge line came into play, and all was back to normal.
That rouge white pulsed erratically.
Dropping the pen to the floor, Itachi analysed before pressing his finger to the present board, capturing the moment with his finger. A pulse of female embarrassment ran up his finger, and Itachi was alarmed to feel the charged energy that originated from the white rouge.
"Delete those lines unaffected by this equation." He murmured, erasing lines with no consequence or relation to the rouge.
Many of the lines that had so cluttered up Naruto's life reading disappeared, and Itachi was left with a fair few lines, but few compared to the lines there had been before.
The white rouge had intercepted with Naruto not that soon after Sasuke and Saskura. It had come close- incredibly close to Naruto's before, but only now was the line becoming prominent.
The white rouge was doing something now, that would fix Naruto and Sasuke's futures together- something that would meld their friendship. It looked like it was simply preventing some action, something that should have happened, but wouldn't and couldn't now that the white rouge had played it's part.
Itachi suddenly snorted, a noise most unbecoming of the Uchiha clan heir. Who cared? He watched out of the corner of his eye as his cat waddled into the room and stared at an ink bubble (erratically pulsing with a vivid shade of red).
A ring came from his mobile phone which he duly picked up. "Mother?" He answered, watching the morbidly obese cat attempt to stretch up on its back legs and swipe at the ink bubble with little interest.
"Oh Itachi? Can you come home tonight- there's been a murder on the old Uchiha property..."
The bubble burst and the cat scrambled, in panic, covered in blood red ink.
"Well, what do I care about it, stop bugging me dead-last." Sasuke sneered and turned away, wishing he was alone.
"Look. We'll figure this out. You and me. No homo. No matter what, it'll be cool. We're bro's right?"
"Look." Snapped Sasuke, suddenly very, very protective of his sexuality, whatever it may be. "Just piss off, okay- I don't need this- I haven't done my chemistry homework." A sudden urge to beat the blond down came to the forefront of Sasuke's mind. Perhaps if Sasuke beat up Naruto, he would stop bothering him.
A rage built within Sasuke, something totally and utterly consuming, choking and crawling, breaking down his synapses and altering his common sense. He yearned to beat Naruto dearly, desperate for the adrenaline rush, of the blood and sweat and spittle of the fight.
Naruto remained oblivious to Sasuke's building anger, and continued to babble on, only provoking the Uchiha further, until Sasukes fist was secreted under his desk, waiting for the next time the words, "No homo" came out of the blond's mouth.
"Cool, No ho- Oh- Hey Hinata-chan… you look… wet."
Sasuke peeped over his chemistry file and watched the drenched girl move up to his desk, obviously wanting to talk, but awkwardly involving Sasuke too. She was drenched in water and what little make-up she had was smeared over her face, and her long hair and congregated and tangled together. It was almost as if she had been stuck in a sauna.
She was a mess. She was a Hyuuga.
Sasuke wasn't sure that the two could work together, but in the Hinata girl they did.
Hyuuga and Uchiha were sister clans, sharing highly coveted secrets and techniques Sasuke had yet to learn of. As of such, being so tightly intertwined and reliant on one another to bolster their political and economic grasp, they loathed each other with a passion, and only sought to out-compete one another.
Time and time again, they had failed miserably, yet neither clan acknowledged that they were dependant on the other.
When the Uchiha had been massacred six generations ago, the Hyuuga had been hit so badly by the failing economy that they had helped the Uchiha survivors to recuperate, giving them land (that was paid back promptly) so that the Uchiha didn't have to go back to the forsaken crumbling buildings where their kin had perished. Where Uchiha were in the economy, the Hyuga were in politics, or media. The two went together, and even if they openly hated one another, there was a certain grudging respect between the two clans.
So the Hyuuga girl, was, in Sasuke's opinion, worth acknowledgement, even if dirtied and wet.
He nodded slightly at the girl, blinking to signal his trust, like a cat would. Naruto's eyes widened in surprise. Sasuke never acknowledged anyone.
The girl held her file tighter to her torso, having completely missed Sasuke's small nod in her tension-ridden state. Her nerves were getting to her, and her embarrassment was starting to stagnate.
In her fragile state she failed to note the tiny sampling of her magic, by a far off, and completely alien source. It was less disturbing than a small insect bite.
"I-I…" she started, looking up and allowing her eyes to dart between the two boys, perhaps longer on the Uchiha, because he shouldn't be there. "I had…and accident this morning. Well- sort of- I had…a near death experience…and I-I…"
Naruto and Sasuke stared at the girl in unison.
"I want to make a confession – of aff-aff-affection. Now! Whilst I still have the chance!" She shut her eyes in desperation, blush in full operation, a full heady red dash of embarrassment.
"Oh my god Hinata! That's so cute!" Cried Naruto. The Hyuuga blushed even further. Sasuke blinked.
"You and Sasuke are practically made for each other!"
Hinata blinked. Sasuke paused. Naruto grinned. He'd sat through so many female confessions to Sasuke it didn't occur to him that Hinata's confession was to him. He'd caught Sasuke's nod, and that was all it took to convince him that Sasuke was secretly madly in love with the girl.
Hinata blinked again, and Sasuke calculated. The thought that the confession was to Naruto didn't occur to him either. The girl was a Hyuuga, so his family would be either annoyed or ecstatic. She looked the shy and quiet type, and that was okay- she didn't look annoying or clingy. Best of all, to his knowledge, Itachi had never ever gone out with anyone, let alone a Hyuuga girl.
Hyuuga girls were classy. Hyuuga girls were a breed apart. Hyuuga girls didn't enter class muddy and wet, but he let it slide for the moment. She'd probably fallen into a puddle avoiding a bus or something in that near death experience.
"Sure. That sounds cool." Sasuke shrugged, running an eye over the Hyuuga girl's small figure. She could look nice, he supposed. She wasn't morbidly obese or anything, and she seemed like the sort of girl lots of men who weren't him would consider attractive, or at least, he supposed. He could stand her, if only because it would stop Naruto bugging him about his non-existent sexuality.
Plus, he supposed that he could probally figure out what he was (sexualtiy wise) with her. It could work out. It could even work out for the better. Being completely and utterly asexual, he'd often been utterly confounded by emotions his friends had attempted to explain to him. This could be his chance to try it out.
Anger and urge to beat Naruto senseless relented, ensuring Naruto's presence in Sasuke's life for many years to come.
Hinata blinked again, and sagged into a chair, her legs failing her, her confession failed, but her identity as the white rouge ensuring that Naruto and Sauske remained friends for a long, long time.
"I'll tell everyone! And leave you to yourself!" Naruto grinned, flashing his friend a thumbs up. "Sakura-chaaaaaaaan! Guess what!"
"I...Ano…" Her mouth formed words her voice couldn't follow as she watched the blond haired boy jog off towards a group of girls. She glanced at Sasuke, who was busy with his homework.
Her new boyfriend.
He glanced back lazily, sensing an awkward moment in the making. He mistook it for romantic chemistry (because, obviously, that's what they had now that they were going out).
"So… your name. It's Hinata right?"
Voice failing, Hinata nodded furiously, her face reddening.
It was the last straw. The trials of the day- the assassin's attack, and the explosion of her magic, and the leeching of his life-energy, and the failure of a confession had taken their tolls.
She fell off her chair, body crumpling. Sasuke watched in silent fascination. He'd known girls to do some odd things, but fainting when he talked to them was a new thing for him.
He figured she must really like him, or something.
"You're dating…who?" Fugaku rages.
Itachi observes the slight smirk of his brother's face. There's something odd here, something…wrong. Sasuke's far too eager too show off that he's dating the Hyuuga heiress. He hasn't even attempted to hide it.
That's when Itachi realises that his disobedience has only descended into his brother. He's unsure of how to react.
He'll have to reap what he sows, he supposes.
He meets her (the Hyuuga girl/heiress) when giving her a lift from school to her house. For the first time in his life, he's slightly embarrassed about his messy car as she looks at his car (a beige remnant of at least a decade past), and nervously clambers in, brushing the cat dander away from her skirt, and eyeing his lunch Panini and it's wrappings (He'd half eaten it, then he remembered to pick up Sasuke) balancing precariously between the drivers and passenger's seats.
"Hi Itachi. This is my girlfriend. Hinata." Sasuke says, gloating over the girlfriend part a little too long for comfort.
"Hello." She weakly offers, surrounded by cat dander and offensively dirty car interior.
"Nice to meet you." Itachi said, a diplomat to the end. "I'm sure that should our parents get their way, we'll be working together in the future."
A nervous giggle erupts from the small girl, and in a moment of lax driving technique, whilst he pulled out. Itachi glances at his mirror, and catches her reflection.
She hunches over slightly, her legs pressed together, sitting on her hands. Everything about her should be crisp and clean and polished, but her body rebels against that constriction. Where her hair ought to be sleek and tamed, it frizzes and sticks out- not tempestuously, but enough to attract disdain from her elders, Itachi bets.
Same with her clothes. They're neat, tidy school clothes, and expensive to boot but despite the pressing and ironing they've suffered, they still crease and warp around her body, uncomfortable and unpalatable on her.
She glances up, somewhat cheekily, and their eyes meet through the silver medium of his mirror.
There is more of a child than woman in that face. Seventeen and puppy fat still remains, though in truth, it is showing signs of waning. But there something potent there, something powerful showing signs of potential.
One look at those pink parted lips, that tell-tale cupids bow and that soft nose, those wide, harsh, dead-fish eyes softened by an illicit smile, and he knows that she's killed a man.
There might be a child in that face, but there is no innocence.
In the silver tinted mirror, Itachi sets his jaw into a grim smile.
Her heart falters for one moment, and then she returns it. There's no innocence in his face either.
Itachi's mother, Mikoto has always harboured a love for the glamorous, the exotic and the purely pretentious. His parent's room looks like a sheiks harem (And when he was little, he never understood why none of the other parent's had a mirror over their bed), but it's in the lounge that Mikoto's taste comes to a peak.
The walls are hung with burgundy and indigo silks. Where there is no covering there are tapestries, and the floor is covered in deep plush carpet, and covered with assorted pillows. Lanterns hang from the ceiling, and low tables carry as many golden ornaments as can be crammed on their surface.
Hinata gapes at the abundant bad taste around her. Itachi can't help but smirk as Sasuke invites her to a pillow, and she double takes as she realises she'll have to kneel on a moth eaten pillow in order to converse with her "in-laws".
Well, in-laws might be a little odd in choice of words, but Itachi supposes that she might as well be married to Sasuke now. Their relationship will be scrutinised by all around them, Itachi included.
Before she met the Uchiha clan, he severely doubted that she had encountered such bad taste in her elite ivory tower.
"It's so lovely to meet the girl that Sasuke keeps on telling us about." Mikoto lied through her teeth. Sasuke tended to talk more about school work than anything else.
Hinata blushed gingerly, knocking back her hair gamely. "It's lovely to meet Sasuke- san's family." She lied back.
Itachi at once noticed her lack of affectionate suffix, and her guilty, drag through her hair as Sasuke offered her one of Mikoto's bizarrely shaped biscuits.
She demurely resisted and watched the biscuits disappear, a hungry gleam in her face, but aware of Fugaku, the Uchiha patriarch watching her every move.
It dragged on, until finally it was dark and far too late for Hinata to stay. Itachi was ordered to take her home, and forever the willing chauffeur, Itachi obliged, noting that his dearest little brother wasn't even going to see his sweetheart home.
It was fairly obvious that neither party held any real affection for each other. In fact, it was highly doubtful there was any attraction whatsoever. Sasuke seemed to be slightly fond of her, in his general sarcastic put-down manner, but the way that the two interacted- the way that Hinata didn't follow Sasuke around the room with her eyes, and made moves to avoid any contact (something Sasuke appreciated) made it obvious to honed eyes like Itachi's.
Being the general fake looser he was (His father had no idea how much money Itachi had earned since the age of fourteen, playing the stock markets like a boss), Itachi could smell a sham from miles away.
"I'm sorry you have to be near this rust bucket." Itachi apologised as soon as they sped away from the house in the tiny little rust-bucket. "I'm sure that as a Hyuuga, you're accustomed to far better." Only Itachi could make a heartfelt apology into an insult.
The girl shrugged. "If you think that of me, we'll never work well together." Insults rolled off the small girl.
Itachi's eyes flickered over her before returning to the traffic. "What percentage chance do you think you've got of becoming head of the Hyuuga syndicate?"
"Zilch. You?" There was no bitterness, just a slight tone of tiredness and acceptance. She'd known that for a long time.
"Nada. I've done my best to prevent it."
He stopped at a red traffic light, and out of the corner of her eye, her head turned to face the car window, her breath misted up the glass, concealing the blur of traffic lights and darkness from the car interior. "I can't understand that." She admitted, raising a dainty finger to the glass and gently wiping the moisture away, once more revealing the smog and cluster of the outside world.
"I'm going to have to step down." She confessed, knowing that the other inhabitant of the car would understand, and taking advantage. "I would give anything to be good enough to control the family, but I know now that I'm not. It's damage control. I would love to make my family proud. I can't understand you."
Her reflection ghosted over the window, a phantom of another world churned and cut up by the motion of cars, sleek and gliding and growling over the road, their lights reflected in the rain-slicked streets. Then something caught Hinata's sharp eyes.
For a moment there was a sharp intake of breath, and a sudden whistling noise erupted from the girl's lips like a kettle boiling. "Shi-"
The glass of the car window shattered. Hinata ducked, hands protecting her neck, and something shot across Itachi's chest, tearing his shirt and leaving a long line like a cat's scratch.
"What the fuck?" Itachi swore, totalling up the damage to his car window in a flash of his eyes.
"Drive!" Hinata squealed, her head still concealed in the ungainly position of between her knees.
He did, breaking the red traffic light, and squealing down the street, noting with some panic that a car was following him with a speed that only confirmed pursuit. He roared around the corner, his poor car's breaks squealing like a pig, and the suspension hardly able to handle the speed.
"Can you do anything?" He roared to the girl cowering in the passenger's seat, forgetting that unsaid code that determined that between the Hyuuga and Uchiha, nobody acknowledged their own…unusual abilities.
The girl looked up from between her trembling knees. "N-not if you want to run the risk of me setting us all on fire. You?"
"I'm an illusionist. I need time to set up these things. Fuck." He turned a tight right onto a side street, and set his car straight into a pile of trashcans and rubbish on the pavement, the bins flying over the bonnet of his car (and missing the windshield) with a reassuring arc of flight, and starting pedestrians.
Fifty meters down the street and the following car burst from the sidestreet, knocking the rubbish too in their pursuit.
"Shite." Swore Itachi, glancing back. "Take the wheel, I'll do something."
"I can't drive!" Protested the girl.
"Just do it!" Roared Itachi, raising his hands from the wheel and pulling a pen from his pocket.
It had been used, and it was a biro, but he was sure he could do something. A clip of her seatbelt sounded from her chair.
The moment he lifted his hands from the wheel, Hinata launched herself form her seat and leaned over his thigh, her breasts uncomfortably pressing into his legs, and her sharp elbow jammed into his crotch.
At that very point, the black car following them jammed into the back of the car, launching him forward into her elbow.
Predictably, he dropped his pen.
"Fuck!" He yelped, his face twisted in pain.
"Do it without the pen!" She screeched, too busy concentrating on the road to notice her current position by his groin, or his pain stricken face.
"I can't, I need the lines, the fluidity…" He gasped, his face still screwed up in pain,
"Improvise!" She yelled, as the car, a black, sleek expensive model Itachi couldn't name drew up beside them.
Hinata twisted the wheel and rammed into them, the poor car nothing but a fly to the sleek machine beside it. A wing mirror chipped off, and a terrible screeching sound resonated between the two cars, long and scathing.
Like the finality of a curtain falling over a stage, the tinted window rolled down, and for the second time in three weeks, Hinata looked down the barrel of a silenced gun.
Hinata blinked, vomit rising in her throat.
"You're on fire." Whispered a voice above her head, directed not at her.
The other car served, and fell away, inhabitants screaming, into a shop display.
Itachi took the wheel again, and Hinata drifted to her seat, shocked but jumpy, still crouching slightly in her seat, and still peering out of the broken window.
"You've got glass in your hair." Itachi said, breaking the silence and turning into an alleyway about three streets away, parking the car.
She dusted it off, and nervously got out, following Itachi's example.
Suddenly she was suddenly reminded of the last time that she had followed a man down an alleyway. Was that a predatory flash in his eye?
"Who's after you?" He asked, that flash flickering again.
She realised he was interested, morbidly, obsessively so, flicking his pen through his fingers whilst wearing that look in his eyes. "My family, I think." She admitted, suddenly feeling like there was a load off her chest, but still, refusing to make eye contact and stubbing her toe against the car wheel.
"Shouldn't the killers know about your abilities? They didn't seem adequately prepared for that sort of thing?"
Hinata shook her head, her hair falling like a veil around her face. "My family know I'm not exactly powerful. They don't even know about some of my techniques. I was so ashamed that it wasn't elegant for their liking I curbed my use of it in their presence. I've never been able to tame it."
Itachi cocked his head in a bird like jerking motion. Hinata explained. "I have a tendency to blow up things. And set them on fire."
Itachi nodded thoughtfully, and then eyed the girl in front of him. She wasn't tall- and she looked like she wouldn't eat much. Hell she might even be happy to do a spot of cleaning, or cooking. That's what Itachi's mum did for him, and he figured that a girl like her would be grateful, and wouldn't mind doing a bit of housework. Maybe.
"You wouldn't mess up my stuff?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Pardon…No…sir?" she answered, unsure.
"We'll go my apartment. It's a half hour walk from here."
"Oh-"
But before Hinata could protest, Itachi was already in the back of his car, rummaging and eventually throwing a dark hooded parka towards her and taking a navy duffle coat for himself.
"Hide your identity." He commanded. "We're going to disappear."
Hinata put it on dutifully, patting down the somewhat slimy canvas material with trepidation. "Won't they know to look for us at your apartment?"
"It's the second one, that isn't even in my name. I've used it for experimentation space." He looked thoughtful. "I suppose we could live in it, I guess. Shibo lives there quite happily."
Hinata nodded dumbly, not willing to look a gift horse in the mouth. Time and time again she had been warned against Itachi Uchiha- Her Father would state him as the antichrist, going against his father's wishes, doing a degree in humanities, going on a gap year, helping people& struggling like a commoner.
That kind of repeated mantra only afforded some hero worship on Hinata's part, and when she had learnt that Itachi Uchiha was Sasuke's older brother, she couldn't refuse his request to meet his family.
After all, it was well known that whilst the clan family knew that there were specialist techniques that belonged to their family, it was only the heir that knew the full extent of their abilities.
Itachi was somewhat disappointingly clean shaven for a lazy layabout, she mused, as he led her through half lit streets with his jaunty impatient walk, all bones and action, and no rest or swagger.
"Who's… Shibo?" She asked, pondering the mysterious identity.
"My cat." Itachi replied, leading her on. "You're covered in his fur."
She the first thing she noticed when she entered the apartment was the imposing three whiteboard combo, staring her down with their neon lines of orange amongst various other lines of colours.
"Forgot to clean up." Itachi muttered under his breath, apologetically twisting his hand and erasing the existence of his experimentation.
"An experiment?" Hinata asked breathlessly, interested in an arcane art that wasn't anything to do with hurting others.
"More of a study in motion. It's not a family secret or anything, so I'll show it to you sometime."
"Oh, Thank you."
Itachi shrugged, letting his shoulders roll effortlessly. He walked over to the kitchenette, hinting heavily in his gait that she ought to follow, which she did, and sat on a kitchen stool.
"So who do you think is after you?"
"My famill-"
"Really?" Itachi shook his head. "Too predictable. Too obvious. Very boring. Too boring. Well, it's not the company. That's not the motive."
"Then who?"
Itachi sighed, and then turned around and pulled out a board pen from a kitchen draw.
"Tell me all the things that could make you a target for anyone. We'll eliminate."
"Well-"
"Be imaginative." itachi ordered. She pondered, he grew impatient. "Let's start. You're rich, you're well turned out, you're smart. Well. Kind of. Not really that popular. You get trouble in school?"
Hinata nodded timidly.
"It's a start." With sudden energy Itachi began to write on the kitchen fridge, a long, equation fringed with brackets and variables. "Feed me more."
"My Father upsets lots of people on a regular basis. I'm not good enough to be Hyuuga heir. The family wants Neji or Hanabi to be heir… the assassins don't know about my power. They would be better prepared... they would take me out over a long distance."
Itachi drew a breath. "Would there be a conflict over Neji or Hanabi as heir."
"Certainly."
He added powers to several variables, and divided everything by three.
"Anything else. Illegal activities, people in power?"
Hinata said she didn't know anything about that.
He stood back, and admired his scribbles, which now covered the whole of his fridge in frenzied hieroglyphics. The he added a two to the end. He pursed his lips. Hinata stared at him in anticipation. "Now that," he started, with some climax. "Is a tricky problem."
The flat was nice enough. Small, cramped, filled with piles of books and notebooks, some useless, some relevant and all of them important and not to be touched. They had accumulated somewhat since they had moved in together. Then there was the fridge- Itachi tended to keep his groceries next to incomplete experiments concerning half dissected eyes (Of unknown origin) and developing bacterial plates (Itachi had assured her that the bizarre vermillion mould would not grow in the food, but what type of bacteria developed in a freezer?)
She soon realised that he was far more of a genius than he had ever allowed himself to show, and that he was dabbling in things that funded him (barely) when his writing dried up. But there was also the knowledge that this was his inner sanctum- the place he came to work on the things he most loved. She had been allowed into the holiest of hollies, and there were things to observe, little things she could do in order to help Itachi out.
He'd helped her out at her lowest, and combined with her certain reverence for him, combined by his evident mastery of so many arcane non-facts she couldn't help but admire him some-what.
But with that- he was obscenely messy, had bizarre sleeping habits, drank far too much black coffee and had a habit of scribbling over any stationary object.
(On occasion, her own arm.)
A bumping noise sounded from the lounge area, followed by a swear in Itachi's deep swarthy voice.
She ran out of the bedroom, pulling on a long burgundy jumper over her cheap checker dress. (Courtesy of Itachi's "secret" fund. It alarmed Hinata to think that itachi had been planning this for quite some time. They didn't abscond with many items of clothing, and Itachi had had to go on a shopping spree that resulted in him buying a few cheap clothes and a few odd gadgets that had caught his eye. Hinata despaired, and soon made an account on eBay)
His eyes glanced over her in a brief hello. "I've brought a telly." He announced from under his hoodie/ large glasses/ balacava, looking down at the dented cardboard box. "It'll do more than my equations."
Hinata had realised very early on that Itachi's fevered equations were not proper mathematics, or at least- they were not following any rules she had ever learnt. Itachi's scribbles were a way of him simply putting pen on paper and getting his thoughts out of his head and onto something he could understand. (And no one else).
"How are we going to afford it?"
"It's fallen off the back of a lorry. I wouldn't worry about the cost."Itachi answered, pulling off his "disguise", and ruffling his hair back into it's normal type of disorder. Hinata was quite envious of Itachi being able to dress up and go outside, but she knew that whilst men could dress up all they liked in hoodies and balaclava's in the cold weather, women would be noticed for covering up their face. She had never noticed that particular gender inequality, but now that she had discovered it, she was quite off-put.
"Are you going to help me?"
"Oh- yes, just daydreaming."
Hinata rushed over to him and helped him with the cardboard box, following him into the kitchenette and placing it on the counter.
"Do we have a TV licence?" Hinata asked.
"A what?"
Hinata shook her head and made an internal note to register online with Itachi's fake name. She had soon realised that Itachi didn't exactly live in this world, and that he was so absorbed in her "little" problem he forgot simple things like bills, and food- she had sorted out that over the three months she had spent in the flat.
He fiddled with the wires and switched it on, only to be greeted with static. He slammed a fist into the side that didn't have a dent in it, and without surprise, Hinata noticed that the telly had begun to work.
Itachi muttered something under his voice and tuned the television, finding the news channel almost immediately.
The family flickered over the screen.
Hinata shrieked in surprise, and then hastily corrected herself. Itachi sent her a withering look.
"They're making a press conference about your disappearance and the subsequent heir problem." Itachi muttered, pinning his eyes to the screen. "They've had a stock crash, and they need to invigorate some faith in the stock markets."
Neji edged to the news podium, and began to talk, his voice coarser than Hinata remembered it.
"…With Hyuuga Hinata's fate unknown, Hyuuga Cooperation has been forced to look for alternative heirs to act in her place … As her cousin I am proud to take her position."
"And it's not him." Itachi muttered, reading into Neji's body language like the best of the byuakugan users.
"I know." Answered Hinata, on the edge of tears. She had not expected to be so affected by her family, but she realised now that only Neji had been so important to her, and to hear him croak out her name with remorse simply left her trembling.
"They think we've been kidnapped, both of us. The clans are in on tenterhooks, waiting for threats or whatever. Oh- God, look at that face." He gazed deep into the television.
Hinata scanned the screen, barely noticing anything. There was Neji's pixelated face, his downturned mouth of a steeper gradient, his face leaner, and sharper and more severe. And then was her father, stoic, still, underneath that icy veneer, something stired, but the hints were so vague, Hinata couldn't tell if they were real or imagined. And there, behind him, to her Father's left and neji's right, Hanabi was in tears.
Hinata looked back to her sisters crumpled face as she sniffed into her palm attempting to regain control but only gaining a look from her father. Those tears were not of sadness, or remorse or anything to do with the disappearance of her older sister.
"The little Bitch." Breathed Hinata, clenching her fist and setting the telly on fire.
Itachi flapped around wetting a towel whist Hinata stared at the flaming hole where her sister wrecked face had been. Those were tears of pent-up frustration. Years and years Hanabi had been second to Hinata, stronger than her sister in every way, but brutally looked over at every opportunity. The threat of the branch house had floated over her head all her life. Hinata almost felt sorry for her.
Hanabi had wanted the heiress position so much she had been willing to kill the only person who had ever cared for her in her family of vultures. But the assassins sent after her smouldered away most of Hinata's pity.
But it made sense she supposed. Hanabi had been taught that the heiress was taught specific techniques. She didn't know about the magic that flowed through her veins any more than Sasuke knew about his.
Television successfully quenched, Itachi laid a heavy hand on Hinata's shaking shoulder with all the elegance of a person who had no idea of how to touch others.
"I'm sorry." He said in a monotone voice which attempted to convey sympathy.
"Itachi?"
"Hn?"
"Can you take me anywhere I can set things on fire?"
She knew her voice was quivering, and she knew her lashes were heavy with tears. She knew she was being totally and utterly selfish, but at the same time, she knew, knew that Itachi would do this for her.
He'd done so much.
"Yeah, sure."
"Thank you. Thank you so much." She murmured, her words only half heard from the muffling of his black sweater, her arms around his torso and her head on his chest, the gentle thud-ump of his heart beating in surprise.
"It's no problem. No problem at all." He said solemnly, as he patted her on the head, much like an estranged uncle would pat a niece or nephew.
If there was anything she really enjoyed, it was people watching. Admittedly, Itachi's apartment didn't have any great commodities, nor a comfortable window seat where she could bundle herself up and stare for hours, but she compensated. Pulling a basic hard wooden chair too the window, she could curl up here, with some of Itachi's more understandable notes, and from over the tomes of scrawled paper, she could watch the street underneath her.
Nobody ever seemed to look up. High rise apartments on both sides of the streets, why should they? There was only a strip of sky, and nothing else to be seen.
Most certainly not the missing Hyuuga heiress, healthy and fit, and scandalously living with the missing Uchiha heir.
"You must be missing home." He commented from behind her, surprised when she jumped at the sound of his voice.
"Not at all!" Her hands waved intricate patterns in the air, and for a liitle while Itachi had thought they were protective wards before figuring Hinata out. "I'm very glad that I'm here, safe."
Itachi shrugged. "Don't lie. There's no nee-"
"I'm not lying!"
Her face flared up, like a beacon of her embarrassment and guilt. Her hands wove into those almost familiar protective twisting's. "I'm not homesick at all! I'm really happy here!"
"Oh." Said Itachi, twisting his face into a slight grimace. "Right."
Itachi had always been one for large open spaces and he had never quite enjoyed the flat. He was slightly claustrophobic, perhaps due to his mother's haphazard decorations, and having to live with the by-products of his experimentations only furthered that hatred of being contained to a small space.
"I've nearly finished a technique. Want a look in?" Itachi phrased it so that it was more imperative than question, but he knew instinctively that she would want to take a peek.
"Oh, gosh, yes. I've looked over some of your working notes, and I've been meaning to ask you what you meant with some of the transmorphing terminology."
Itachi bent his head slightly whist she hitched herself up, "It's not really that hard." He drawled.
"It is." She replied, grabbing a fistful of his notes from the window, whilst balancing on one foot, her legs swaddled in diamond-patterned tights. "But perhaps it's just your handwriting."
Itachi shrugged. "Having to explain things to people makes me feel far more intelligent."
"Obviously."
Hinata walked from the lure of the window to the lounge, the whiteboards still in place, but the floor space occupied by concentrating runes. Itschi's inky magic floated over lethargically, rolling into slivers of waves with the consistency of taffy.
"Why on earth do you use ink as a medium? It's so messy!" Hinata exclaimed. Itachi had never asked her to tidy up after him, but the young man was so awfully messy that she had to clear up a little just to survive in the flat, let alone live in here knowing it wasn't a good idea to go outside.
"So is fire. Remember the telly?" Itachi sarcastically replied.
"Not well. We only had it for a little while." Touché, Hinata thought.
With a stride of his legs and a snap of his fingers, Itachi was in the centre of the room, weaving his ink. Hinata watched the concentration rune vibrate slightly, then begin to peel off the floor, mixing and meeting with Itachi's ink.
"With a shake of his hand, and a crease of his forehead, Itachi abandoned the experiment, allowing the inky residue of his magic to fall to the floor and evaporate, leaving only the mess of his failure.
"You can't use concentration runes?" Hinata asked.
"Anything that can be used to scrawl down a message- any inks, chalks, graphite's, paints, blood -gets gobbled up by my magic. It's cannibalistic. It eats anything similar in property and ability and destroys it. I need something that can't be consumed." He looked at her pointedly.
Hinata raised an eyebrow, lifting it into the region hidden by her fringe. "I'll kill us all." She exclaimed.
"Maybe."
"Can't you do it without the runes?"
"I wouldn't have called in a second party if I could."
Hinata harrumphed, and walked around the now broken rune circle, unintelligible to read.
"I can't do it in here. It'll increase the chance of me killing us both. It'll have to go outside." She blinked, suddenly, as if she had come to a great conclusion. "Perhaps we could sneak into the rubbish tip we went to last time when I really needed to set things on fire?"
Now that had been an exploration- the Uchiha and Hyuuga heirs sauntering into their local rubbish tip and setting things on fire in cathartic rage.
"Remember that fire you started? They'll be upping the security there, and they'll be like that in other tips too. Plus we need to go somewhere local. We don't have the car."
"It was an impressive fire."
"I'm sure they agreed." Itachi thought for a second, brushing his hair back with the back of a pen he had picked up earlier. "The old Uchiha residence? It's only a train & a bus away, and it could prove the perfect place."
Hinata's face froze and fell, her cheeks losing their rosiness, Her eyes losing their concentration, like she was replaying the same scene again and again, behind those veneered eyes of hers. "The abandoned residence on the Nanako River?" She echoed faintly.
"Were you the one that murdered a man in there?
Hinata nodded, colour returning to her face in an unhealthy quickness of time. Suddenly, she twisted around, and found herself a chair to sit on, not minding that her skirt had ridden up slightly or that Itachi was watching her with the most interest he had ever shown in her. "It was self defence." She muttered.
"That makes it all right then. You have no idea how much paperwork my dad fobbed onto me. And all the eligible Uchiha's had to sit an interview. I had to arrange that. I'll hold you responsible."
She practically glowed red, and Itachi certainly felt a grim kick out of her mirthless squirming.
"It wasn't completely intentional. In those situations survival becomes imperative. You'll do anything. It's impossible for someone who hasn't been in that situation to understand! And you did the same, with that illusion… hypnotism trick in the car!"
She could swear that his bloodshot eyes rolled in their sockets. "That was different!"
"No it wasn't."
Hinata folded her arms as if they were origami pieces, neatly creasing the joints at her elbows into a delicate position, resting them under her waist coated breasts. Itachi's eyes flickered upwards, all too aware of the conations of his eye line.
She was still at the climax of her embarrassment, her cheeks still rosy, and her eyes still unfocused.
"Maybe there'll be police still present?" She suggested hopefully.
"Policing an abandoned compound? Even if there has been a case of spontaneous combustion in there, they have better things to do than police that shambles. I've seen to it that they're off it- the Uchiha had to give over control, and we received notification when the police closed their case- they were certain there was something odd with the electronics."
Hinata eased her mouth into a prim little line, straight enough to be drawn with a ruler, and shook her head to either side, trying desperately to think of an alternative to the old Uchiha residence.
"Why is this so important- this technique you're developing?"
"You're not getting agoraphobia cooped up in here are you?"
Hinata shrugged her shoulders, letting her anger roll over her into passivity. "I just don't want to visit the scene of the crime. It's not that intelligent. And anyhow- I want to know what this technique is before I help out. And you'll need to make sure that the ink you use is inflammable!"
"All ink is inflammable!"
"I didn't know that!" She rested her fingers between the crux of her nose and forehead. "I need to know what we'll be doing if it I need to help. I know it's transforming something, but I want to know what."
"I want to see if I can interfere with somebodies destiny. So to speak."
Hinata cocked her head, curiosity suddenly peaking. Itachi continued. "You saw my three whiteboard life cycle when you came in. And the notes."
"I thought it was all hypothetical- I didn't realise you had perfected it- I couldn't find conclusive notes."
"I perfected it. You saw it when you first came in, the orange on the whiteboards."
"I remember. How are we going to do this?"
"Have you ever been able to grasp simple biological constructs?"
Hinata answered that she did, and that she had continued to study biology at a higher level.
"It's like inserting DNA into the plasmid of a bacteria. You want a bacteria to produce something, say insulin- before you can do that, you have to tamper with the bacteria's DNA- you use restrictive enzymes to cut up the DNA at specific places, and then you insert the DNA you want. I'm trying to do that. I'm going to insert a possible future into a future scape. I'll show you the details."
"But that's-" Hinata shook her head. "You can't compare your experiment to plasmid alteration. Your analogy doesn't work.- You're doing this on a much, much bigger scale- and with completely different precepts."
"This works." A glimmer of a smile formed, and his eyebrows bore down on his face in a determined expression. Hinata realised at this moment that if she wanted to stay on his property, eating his food, and keep on helping him in his experiments, &furthermore, continuing to bask in his presence, to remain in this entitled position, she would have to bow to this.
Not that she didn't have concerns- she was going to help him, sure- but she wasn't going to blindly follow him. Trustworthy or not, a Hyuuga learnt at a young age never to trust anyone completely, and that had stuck with her for a long time.
"Isn't this ethically awful? What about free will?"
"Do we even have free will?" Itachi vaguely replied, snapping his fingers as if to dismiss the idea.
"Don't distract me into a philosophical debate. Just give me a straight answer."
Itachi sighed, rolling his eyes and slumping his shoulders. Hinata blinked, not believing the apathetic man was capable of throwing strops. "I'll be inserting a possible future. Just like bacterial DNA manipulation it might not take. I just want to see if it can work. I don't know how far that action will cause disruption to the rest of that person's life- cause and effect if you will. I just want to see if I can adjust a small event to occur to cause some disruption. Savvy?"
"Could this technique, if developed further, be used to hurt somebody… or hasten their death?"
Itachi paused, blinking. His mind was always filled with the academic potential- ideas whizzing about to and forth without thought of how those ideas could be used in the future. Itachi did what he did because he wanted to push the boundaries of what he knew, and what was capable. He didn't give thought to what could be done to those ideas once he threw them away- how his inventions and techniques could be twisted and turned to serve another's purpose.
"In theory, yes." Answered the paling Itachi, his brain fizzing over with the negative thought that had sprung up from his stomach.
"I'll help you."
Itachi raised his head, momentarily off-beat, his mind still focused.
"Two conditions." Hinata stated her voice firm and resolute. "One- we destroy the notes afterwards. We know how we can do it- we'll make sure nobody else knows. The technique dies with us. Second. I choose what future we try to implant. Saves us time and bother."
"I can accept that." Itachi firmed his mouth, his mind settled once more. "What future do you want to implant?"
Hinata moved her lips together, almost as if she were biting them. Itachi found it almost curious, and watched in silent fascination as they moved together, folding together and apart with quiet precision.
"I want Naruto Uzamaki to enter a romantic relationship with his classmate Sakura Haruno, or to at least increase the probability of that happening." She answered, her voice slightly quivering. "That ought to be easy. Shouldn't be too detrimental to the future."
"Pray tell why, when you have the chance to play god, you choose that."
Her stocking covered foot moved slightly. "I used to really like-like Naruto." She admitted quietly. "When I confessed… your brother was sort of sitting there by us and Naruto and him thought I was confessing to Sasuke. All the other girls like Sasuke, and well- you can understand. Poor Naruto." She smiled softly.
"I'd just almost been killed that day, and I wasn't thinking straight, and when everything got messed up I didn't even bother to fix it. The fact that Naruto thought…thought I would be so good for his best friend… I-I could never be his girlfriend." She looked up at Itachi, and met his gaze, straight in the eye. "I want the best for him. He's allways wanted the best for me- the best for anyone. And he loves Sakura. It's obvious, totally and obviously. I want him to be happy. I'm not playing God, and neither are you here- Neither of us benefits. We all win."
Itachi nodded, seeing the sense in her argument. "Let's try and figure out how to transport the whiteboards."
Funnily, they were not able to transport three large whiteboards using only public service (they couldn't really attract attention like that whilst going undercover, even with the searches for the heirs now for dead bodies), so instead they made camp in the abandoned compound and had all the required supplies delivered to them, brand new.
"Well, at least it ought to work." Mused Itachi, "Did you know that used pens normally don't work for me? Maybe used whiteboards absorb magical energy too- I've never actually checked."
Hinata uncharacteristically grunted from her sleeping bag. The room that they had stolen away to in the abandoned (and intensely creepy) compound was musty and large. There was no electricity or running water, and aside from what little fire she may dare to light it was very, very cold.
Itachi continued on, unperturbed by Hinata's lack of enthusiasm. "I'm glad we broke into this house. I was sure it was the communal meeting house."
"You said that about the first house we broke into!" Squeaked Hinata from her sleeping bag.
"This was a good second guess." Itachi surveyed the scene before him. The ceilings were high, and there was a roasting pit in the middle of the room- it was unlikely Hinata's odd blue fire was going to do anything too troublesome provided it stayed under control. He'd set up the new whiteboards, their virgin whiteness similar to fresh snow, or the glimpses he'd had of Hinata's thighs, and in the corner or a dank and dusty meeting hall, his surplus of extra pens sat innocently.
Hinata made another squeaking noise and burrowed deeper into her sleeping bag.
"Let's start now!" Itachi ordered, clapping his hands together, and leaping to his feet.
"It's late."
"You're a teenager. Deal with it."
Hinata almost rolled her eyes before she caught herself, and froze before pulling her sleeping bag off, and crawling to her feet.
"Okay, cool." She answered, rubbing her eyes free of sleep.
A slight tremor was felt through Itachi's body, as the thought struck him that perhaps he was pushing her at this time. She might be a better performer when she was awake.
"You don't actually-"
"I'm up now, and I'm interested to see what happens too, you know." She flashed him a mischievous smile. "Ready to do your good deed of the year, Senpai?"
"I've always wanted to be a Fairy Godmother." Itachi mused.
Hinata stalked around the room, inspecting the three whiteboards, and stretching her legs. With a quick motion she flicked a box of cigarettes out of her pocket, like Clint Eastwood would sling out a gun, and flicked a fag into her mouth, her legs still mechanically moving, following a route pattern, left, right, left right. Pause. Continue onwards.
Itachi raised an eyebrow. Pens were his control medium. He found it very had to control and manipulate his energy without a pen in hand. Hinata's control was a cigarette, and a fake lighter. Hinata took no notice of his interest.
"You'd better get in the middle." She warned the young man. "I've set down an ink pot for when you run out, and a bucket of water. It won't help you if my fire does get out of control, but you know, peace of mind."
"Peace of mind indeed." Itachi met the middle, following the line of footsteps.
"I'm lighting up." Hinata did so, feeling that exciting rush of magic, seemingly under control, but seething with unbound potential. Runes that she had memorised off by heart came to mind as she stroked the floor with her left hand, seemingly leaving behind a trail of flames from the place of contacts. Blue sparks flew, and purple and orange flames flared around Itachi, racing and branching into anarchic symbols and runes.
"I think I'm complete" Hinata quietly responded, Cigarette spat out of her mouth and smouldering in the flames. She surveyed her work with pride as the fire crackled and warped the air around it, conducting currents of freak electricity from the air with small pops and crackles.
"Good. Keep control, and please don't distract me… I don't want to do anything to Uzamaki that's too untoward…"
Hinata silently raised her hands and watched the flames through heavy veined eyes, suspicious of any odd movement.
Itachi drew a breath. "Naruto Uzamaki." he spoke-sang to himself, all too aware of the heaviness of those words. The words that he had uttered were not words anymore. He had spoken them and taken them apart. They were no longer a group of sounds joined together to form an unusual name. No. Now that particular combination, Nar-u-to Uz-a-mak-i was now an identity, a destiny, fragile and precious and susceptible to the whims of fate.
Ink swarmed through the fountain pen he grasped in his hand. Like an upsurge of locusts they leaked into the air, absorbing all of Itachi's knowledge of the identity Nar-u-to Uz-a-mak-i and twisting into multi-coloured life, the vortex that surrounded Itachi branching off over the fire around him, leeching onto the whiteboards and pumping them full of his knowledge, the identity that was Naruto consumed into three boards.
Past. Present. Future.
Something settled uncomfortably in Itachi's stomach, and he knew then and there that this was wrong. That he shouldn't be doing this. He felt like Big Brother, like God, watching the little Naruto blob on the present board rest into what was probably sleep. Or playing video-games. He knew this was wrong- but at the same time, standing on the edge of the precipice of what was him and knowledge, he knew that the need for knowledge was consuming. He would do this just to see what he could do.
He could make the laws of physics bend. He could make the mind warp with illusion. She could make fire from the simple current of air, and force it to leech onto electricity, and into electricity. Itachi and Hinata were unnatural beings, awoken by blood to a higher power. They were doomed to pursue knowledge all their life.
His attention swivelled to the future board, and with extreme gingerness, he raised his hand, feeling his knees bend slightly, and his mouth dry. Sakura's life-line was predominant in Naruto's life. It always had been from the time that they had first met. But they had never been close, like Itachi had ascertained lovers had to do.
He clenched his hand. The flames roared their approval, peaking and flaring with energy, concentrating on him and giving their energy to him, Hinata's magical energy, fresh and resilient flowing through his veins, soaking into him, and smothering him with her presence.
Naruto's future flicked madly, creating hundreds if not thousands of possible alternate futures. Itachi ground his teeth together, panting, a bead of sweat running down his forhead. That pink line on the whiteboard the first thing on Itachi's mind- it had to be there, intertwined with Naruto's, Sakura and Naruto's lives entwined in an almost eternal embrace.
His breath escaped, his task as a cosmological matchmaker knocking the breath out of him. Gasping he sagged like a broken puppet, a trickle of blood suddenly escaping his mouth. Apparently there were repercussions to playing God.
"Oh God!" Hinata shouted, the fire around Itachi suddenly boiling the air, angered by Hinata's panic, climbing out of their runes and symbols and raging beyond her control. The past whiteboard exploded to Itachi's left, the fire balling to the side
He gagged, his throat full of blood, and coughed, inhaling the smog around him.
Before he could completely crumple, he felt her arms around him, straining to hold him off the floor.
"Oh god." She screeched. "I need you to stand. Lean on me for fuck's sake!" The flames roared around them, and Hinata stared petrified into the vacuum that contained Itachi and her. She couldn't drag him- he was too tall and heavy, and she was far too small for such a task.
She lifted him up slightly, her sweaty hands desperate for grip, and her normal embarrassment dissolved by need. "I NEED YOU TO STAND!" She cried out of desperation, screeching as the air grew thicker with the prickling, acrid smoke and the flames grew closer, flickering by her feet, and threatening to set her skirt alight.
He staggered upright, barely holding his own weight as Hinata tossed the water into the flames in attempt to clear a path, gasping with the smoke. She started through the flames, her sweaty palm clasping on his wrist as he began to run, his head dulled with smoke inhalation and magical exhaustion, but his legs enlightened by adrenaline and her erratic pulse vibrating through his veins, a remainder of the magical energy she had given him.
He twisted around, catching one last glimpse of the future of Naruto Uzamaki- intertwined in every flicking possibility with Sakura. Flames were catching hold, but with a dismissal of his mind, and a wave of nausea, the board released the ink, only to be consumed by the fire as Itachi surged forward, pulled by Hinata's grip and the panic from the fact that his hair had started to flame.
They streaked into a corridor, running desperately for the excit, smoke billowing around them in a constant plume of hot ash. It hadn't seemed so far when they had entered the house, but now it felt like eternity, half blinded, running as their legs moved and their mind's panicked.
He pulled her to the side suddenly, aware that the ceiling above them was alight, and that the beams of the Uchiha residence were old and no match for magical flames. A patch of flaming ceiling fell where she had just been, and all around them shadows slithered and the walls warped, magical anomalies escaped into the world by means of their experiment. But Itachi didn't think of this- Itachi was already several meters ahead, bundling Hinata closer to his chest as his legs grew faster and steadier, remembering the days when Itachi was on the athletics team, bonding along, hoarse mouthed, their ragged breaths indiscernible against the unholy roar of the flames crumpling the Uchiha household.
They burst through the exit door, and legs still too aware of danger, they ran through the complex, alarmed by the amount of buildings that had become consumed with the fire. Their lungs felt like they could burst from the oxygen that saturated their airways, and every breath felt like luxury. Behind them the fire grew larger, it's heat on their backs as they pelted away, a white bolster of smoke rolling into the winter sky as if to signify the destruction of an unnatural act.
They kept on running, away, further through the buildings, as if the fire was still hovering over their heads.
Fire engines sounded closer to the entrance only a side alleyway away, and Hinata realised, with quickly cramping legs and a chest full of smoke, that she was in the alleyway where she had killed her first, and hopefully last.
"Stop!" She cried, aware of how husky her voice was, and how close to spluttering she was, how close to fainting.
The same wet warped cardboard littered the alleyway, ancient and half dipped into the puddles that congregated on the slabs of concrete, unable to drain and stagnating with mosquitos. Wires and Ventilation ducts clung by their figurative fingertips to the sides of the buildings, the lack of the soft burring the only indication that the houses to either side of the alleyway were deserted. Behind them, a fire raged, spiralling up into the heavens.
Itachi stopped, and looked at her as if it was the first time he had ever seen her, burnt hair and grit covered cheeks. Itachi hadn't fared much better, and that adrenaline ran through their veins, justifying actions that normally neither party would ever consider.
Their lips joined so quickly, the impact wasn't noted until Itachi had her against a wall, their lips joined in a desperate embrace, one hand of hers on his sounder, one on his chest, her lips moving out of tempo with his. Oddly enough, their lack of co-ordination only increased their passion- the feel of another's body against their contact starved own, another's independent consciousness extending their desires and hopes and wishes on the other.
Everything was noted and forgotten instantly- the stink of smoke that stuck to their lips, Itachi's shoulder blades jarring into her palm, the softness of her lips, and the smell of their burnt hair.
Hinata broke the kiss first, pulling back, oddly pale.
"IthinkIloveyou." Itachi exclaimed in one breath before turning away and coughing up blood, the efforts of his transgression against the will of the world weighing their tolls. He needed an anchor- something to bind him to the world so he didn't get caught up in the workings of his mind, and tangled. And she needed someone to care for. She needed someone to look after, and bend to her own, mould and develop and make the best of. He might love her, but her kisses were given freely to those who partook from her mouth.
He sincerely doubted that she had ever seen him as anything other than a senpai, but now…maybe…
"We need medical attention." Hinata gasped, the smoke catching up with her, and streaming up her sinuses, making her white eyes water.
He straightened and extended his hand, into which Hinata placed her own with a slight glimpse of a smile, and collapsed against him, her legs suddenly made of jelly.
"They're near the entrance." He rasped, evenly distributing this new weight on his frame.
They staggered out together, hands entwined in seek of some much needed medical attention.
Kohona high was abuzz with rumour.
"Sasuke Uchiha's off school. I heard about his brother… and his girlfriend…Not that he looked too bothered about it. He's hot, I'll give him that, but…he just didn't seem to care about Hinata-chan disappearing…or ever! He seemed more concerned about his brother. But then again, too be fair- the way it's turned out…"
"What a scandal! The Hyuuga heiress and the Uchiha heir eloping! They would have escaped the clutches of their clans if they had just managed to stay in that complex long enough to get those tickets to Buenos Aries!"
"I wish I could be like Hinata-chan. Both the Uchiha brothers? My older brother was in Itachi's year, and I can tell you, he is fit."
"Girls, looks like we've finally found out what turns on the Uchiha men…"
"How the fuck did they accidently start a fire that big? I heard the entire complex was destroyed before the night was out. They were lucky to stop it spreading to the other houses in the area! My Nan lives around there!"
"Who the fuck is Hinata Hyuuga? I have no idea!"
"What about that suspicious car incident they were supposed to be involved in? It was mentioned in the missing reports, and there were loads of eyewitnesses who saw them being pursued by a car. Something doesn't add up!"
"Hinata Hyuuga eloping! With Itachi Uchiha! Apparently they didn't want to displease their families or something, so they chose to disappear! I bet the families are fuming! I saw Hanabi-chan the other day- and she looked terrible!"
"I heard Hinata is refusing to talk to her sister for some odd reason. nobody knows why..."
"There are so many stupid conspiracy theories about. I have a friend who is convinced that the Hyuuga & Uchiha's planned this for the publicity. After-all, it seems like the relationship is being encouraged. Good relationships between big companies, that sort of thing. Apparently the stockholders love it. Romeo and Juliet crap"
"Oh will you all shut up about the theories! It's a boring topic!" Sakura harrumphed, flicking back a twirl of her Candyfloss pink hair and levering her heavy book bag onto her book, making her way out of the classroom, thoroughly bored of the chosen topic of what looked to be the next few months.
"Hey, Sakura-chan!"
"Oh. You." Sakura sized Naruto up like he was a bug to be squished under her foot. She did this jokingly, and Naruto played along, dog-whimpering in response.
"Well, I was wondering if you would like to go with me to the hospital. I got a text from Sasuke saying he's visiting his brother for the moment- apparently there's some nasty damage to his abdomen, and I thought we ought to go and cheer up Sasuke. I mean, he might be a bit down in the dumps- I mean, well. So it would be cool for us to visit, you know." Naruto's whiskered cheeks developed friendly dimples.
"That's so thoughtful! I'll be able to give Sasuke his notes and his homework."
Naruto didn't say anything to that. Instead, for the first time in his life, he said the right thing, at the right time. To Sakura. "Have you done your hair nicely today? It looks really pretty curly. Oh. Your lips are shiny too."
Sakura blushed suddenly and unexpectedly, "I've put Vaseline on today- my lips are dry."
"Oh. You should put it on more often." Naruto said, bending his arms behind his back. "I think it looks cute."
Saskura snuck a glimpse at the boy walking beside her to make sure it was the Naruto Uzamaki she knew and secretly to herself, smiled prettily. Whilst she had always known that she possessed a good intelligence and other good qualities, she had always considered herself very plain next to her friends- the clever, bookish one, with the awkward forced haircut and the clashing eye/hair combo.
To be called pretty or cute as a whole always annoyed her- she was always too conscious of what she considered plain that to be called pretty was to be false. But to say something was pretty on her was another matter…
She blushed a little more and her heart sped up. Perhaps this exciting feeling was what it meant to be or to even feel pretty? Maybe she was growing into her prettiness, just like the flower blossom she was named for? She hummed herself under her breath, her voice quicker than normal, and her shoes squeaking in protest against her sudden increase in pace. "Should we get something for Itachi?…Some chocolates he can share with Hinata...? I'm sure they have a story and a half to tell…"
Author's note
Thanks for reading all of that. I think I have a serious problem regarding one-shots. they either seem to be far too short, or far too long- as this is- and still, they don't seem to hold any real... substance. I hope I've done a good enough job with this one though (Though it feels like a long, long time since I've done anything). Hope you've enjoyed! Any spelling corrections, please tell me and I'll get to it (I like to think I'm a perfectionist) Happy holidays!
(I'm sorry this has been so long in the making! My apologies!)