Okay, everyone, here's another chapter for my wonderful readers!!! I don't really have much to say except that school sucks and R&R!!! And enjoy the chapter, of course :D
Music: Title Track: "Memories" by Within Temptation; End Credits: "Wicked Game" by HIM; Others: "The Numa Numa Song" by Ozone, "Beautiful Lie" by 30 Seconds to Mars, "Smile Like You Mean It" by The Killers
Memories
Made me promise I'd try
to find my way back in this life.
I hope there is a way
to give me a sign you're ok.
Reminds me again it's worth it all
so I can go on
--"Memories"
After her conversation with Naruto in the kitchen, Hinata had consciously worked harder to keep her emotions more in check and to not let herself be so easily readable. The last thing she wanted was to create friction between them over something that had nothing at all to do with him or her current situation. She loved him, she was married to him and she had three children to raise now. She wasn't willing to sacrifice that over thoughts of her past life.
She still wondered about Itachi and Mariko from time to time; she knew that Mariko was a teenager now, and she always wondered what her daughter had turned out to be like. Was she a carefree and happy young girl? Was she one of those troubled children who were distant and cold towards everyone else? Had she made a huge mistake in letting Itachi take her to grow up among criminals and murderers? Sometimes the thoughts were overwhelming, but whenever she felt them coming on, she would crush them to the back of her mind and wait until she was alone to dwell on them.
However, she was hardly ever completely alone anymore. Her family and her home duties kept her preoccupied, and when they didn't, her friends did. She still trained as often as she could, although it was difficult for her, or any of her friends to get much training in, now that they all had families to look after. Still though, she would meet her girlfriends for friendly sparring matches from time to time.
Naruto noticed how, after he said something to her in the kitchen that night, Hinata had changed again. Luckily though, it was for the better this time. She didn't seem so distracted and wistful; she rarely woke up in the middle of the night, unless it was to go to one of their crying children; she seemed altogether happier.
Her change in demeanor had allowed him to relax as well, though he also still occasionally wondered what it was that had pulled her into such deep thought, and if she would ever tell him.
Mariko still wouldn't speak to her father and if she caught even a glimpse of Hidan, she would leave whatever she was doing to go and lock herself in her room. Deidara, Tobi, Sasori and Kisame were all worried about her, and each had elected to speak with Itachi about her at some point.
"Don't you think you should go and say something to her?" Sasori asked.
"Like what?" He asked irritably. "She already knows my reason for doing it and it made her angry. I highly doubt that anything I say now will change that."
"How about saying you're sorry? She might appreciate that," The puppeteer suggested.
"Well I'm not sorry, so I won't say I am."
Then Deidara had tried.
"I'm kinda worried about Mariko, un," he stated.
"What the hell for? She's fine."
"No, she's really not, un. She's still really jumpy and she won't even be in the room next to Hidan…I think that that trick of yours really messed her up, un."
Itachi had gone from annoyed to angry at this remark. He grabbed the blond explosion artist by the collar and dragged him close so that they were eye to eye. "Listen, Mariko is not 'messed up'. She got scared and she's upset that I scared her, but she'll get over it. Once she does, she'll understand why I did it and she'll eventually learn to appreciate it."
"Alright, alright, Kami, don't have to get all pissy about it," Deidara mumbled as he struggled slightly against Itachi's hold.
Itachi released him and stalked off.
Kisame's talk with his teammate had pretty much gone the same way; Itachi was aggravated that someone was saying something to him again, and he just ended up getting angry and walking off.
Tobi's "talk" seemed to be the only one that might have had any effect on the cold Uchiha at all.
"Itachi! Where's Mariko? Tobi was supposed to meet her so that she could teach me how to do a double back-flip!"
Itachi, who had been going over a mission protocol, held his forehead in annoyance. "I don't know where Mariko is, Tobi, she's not speaking to me, remember?"
Tobi stood silent for a second. Itachi went back to his papers, but turned when he noticed that the masked man hadn't gone away. "Did you need something else?"
"You shouldn't be mean to Mariko! She used to be fun and smile and laugh and now she doesn't! Why did you have to make her sad?!" And with that being said, he turned and ran off, whether because he was avoiding the beating that he counted on getting, because he was going off to search for the missing girl some more, or because he was upset, it wasn't clear.
But he left Itachi sitting, slightly stunned by the outburst. He quickly regained composure though, and turned back to his work, but he couldn't concentrate. He knew that what Tobi said was true; Mariko hadn't laughed, REALLY laughed, or smiled since the day Hidan had chased her through the woods. He ran his hand over his face, holding his chin thoughtfully.
He should go and apologize to Mariko; explain to her that his intentions had been good and that he hadn't really expected the encounter to scar her so deeply. But he couldn't. First of all, he wasn't one to apologize for anything to anyone. But it wasn't merely his pride keeping him from mending things with his daughter, it was also the fact that, while he felt bad that she had been so affected by that day, he wasn't sorry that he had done it, for she was already learning how to use her Sharingan and he knew that once she had mastered this, she would be a formidable opponent and a valuable asset to the organization.
So he didn't say anything to her, and she avoided him when she could or was as brief as she could be with him when she was forced to speak to him.
She would still talk with the other Akatsuki members like she did before, though they all noticed what Tobi had: she just wasn't the same person that she had been before the events of that day.
If Hidan felt any remorse for the huge part he had taken in hurting the girl, he certainly didn't show it. He went about his everyday activities the same way he always had. He did notice that whenever he was near enough, Mariko would leave and go to her own room, but the only reaction that he had to this was to roll his eyes as if she was just overreacting to some menial thing like all teenagers do.
One night, Mariko was in her room, reading a book while lying across her hot pink and black bedspread, when all of a sudden her door burst open. She leapt about a foot in the air and nearly fell off the bed rolling over to see who it was.
It was Deidara and Tobi and a boom box. She looked at the pair with confusion in her silver eyes. The clock on her nightstand told her that it was 11:30 pm, and she wasn't sure exactly what the blond and the masked man had in mind, as Deidara set the boom box down and they both turned to face Mariko.
She brushed the pieces of hair that framed her face out of her eyes and asked, "What are you guys doing? And what's with the boom box?"
"We're here to cheer you up, un," Deidara responded pleasantly.
Tobi nodded fervently. "Yeah!"
Mariko smiled. "And how exactly do you plan on doing that with a boom box?"
"We are gonna break it down with an awesome techno dance party, un!" Deidara said excitedly as he inserted a CD into the device.
Seconds later, crazy dance music came flowing forward. Tobi began jumping around and waving his arms excitedly, beginning his "dancing". Deidara also started doing some sort of jumping-dance. Mariko just watched them amusedly until "The Numa Numa Song" by Ozone came on.
When she heard her favorite crazy-dance song begin, she couldn't resist the urge to get up and dance any longer. She jumped up and began hopping and leaping around while simultaneously thrusting her arms in the air at every which angle and banging her head like a rocker.
She made her way over to her desk and flipped a switch that turned on her mini disco-ball light, then hopped over to the wall where her light switch was and flipped it so that the big light went out, leaving them dancing like idiots in a swirl of colored light.
They danced until about 2 am, and for the first time in nearly a month, Mariko really smiled.
Four Years Later
She raced through the forest, clutching the sword scabbard tightly in her left hand. Her eyes were blood red with the activated Sharingan and she scanned the woodland surrounding her as she ran. She knew these woods well enough by now to know when to duck or jump or dodge in order to avoid hanging branches and fallen trees. She moved on her long, lean legs like a deer, effortlessly springing through the trees.
She picked up on a faint movement out of the corner of her left eye, and she turned her full gaze in the direction it came from. She smirked to herself and steered between the trees, slightly towards the gray-blue blur that was moving alongside her. She ran parallel to it while she used her right hand to pull the long samurai sword out of its scabbard. When she had it gripped tightly in her fist, she leapt into the air in a sideways movement, bringing the sword down.
She felt the clash reverberating through her arms as her sword made contact with her opponent's weapon. She jumped back, skidding a few feet before halting and looking ahead determinedly as Kisame came forward with his Samehada handle gripped tightly in his hands, ready for a fresh onslaught of attacks.
Mariko stood and took a couple of cautious steps forward before breaking into a run again. Kisame grinned, showing off his sharp teeth as he readied his defensive attack.
Her attack was fierce; she ran straight towards him until the last second, when she faked a left then ducked to her right, using her empty sword scabbard to lash out at the shark-man's currently unprotected shoulder.
He was quick though and had spun and deflected her attack with his Samehada. She backed down, circling and looking for another opening. She saw it when Kisame shifted so that he could keep her in his sight; he was using his right leg to anchor himself while he pivoted around, and he had left it unprotected. She seized the opportunity and raced forward in a zigzag motion, ducked under a Samehada swing and lifted the sword, ready to bring it down on his leg.
However, he pulled his leg out of the way at the last moment and spun around. She slowed and turned around just in time to receive a blow to the stomach from Samehada. She felt the breath leave her body as she was shot down to the ground.
She groaned as she sat up on her elbows, still holding the sword in her right hand and the scabbard in her left. She used the back of her hand to rub some of the dirt away from her mouth, while glaring at Kisame with burning eyes.
He was making his way over to her, a grin on his face. "You've got those wonderful eyes and yet you still fall for tricks like that?" He shook his head in feigned disappointment. "I thought you would have learned better by now." He reached her and offered a hand to help her up.
She took it. "And I thought that I told you no cheap shots!" she exclaimed accusingly as he hoisted her to her feet. She sheathed her sword and used her now-free hand to brush dirt off of her slightly flared black stretchy pants and her Akatsuki cloud tank top. She had discovered an old discarded cloak not too long ago and had decided to be creative and make some clothing out of it, rather than wear the actual cloak around.
"It was hardly a cheap shot," Kisame argued. "I can't help it if you give me such easy openings with your brash attacks. You're just lucky that I agree to keep this thing taped up while we practice." He patted Samehada fondly.
"Hn." Was all that Mariko said in reply. Her eyes had gone from red back to silver and she turned them to the sky, where the first purple streaks of dusk were staining it.
Kisame also looked up. "We should start heading back," he said, "We're gonna miss dinner if we don't hurry."
Mariko nodded, tying the sword scabbard around her waist. She looked back at the blue-skinned man mischievously. "I'll race you," she said suggestively, competitive fire flaring up in her silver eyes again.
Kisame grinned. "You're on."
Dinner had been cold by the time Mariko and Kisame made it back to the hideout, dirty and panting, so she offered to do the dishes. She was busy at the sink, scrubbing away at the pieces of food that were still stuck to the plates and preparing a hot, soapy water bath to let them sit in, while the other Akatsuki members went off to do their own things. Deidara, Tobi, Zetzu and Sasori had all gone to watch TV, Kisame had gone to take a shower, Kakuzu went to do a "money inventory", Itachi grabbed a book and headed to his room and she had no idea where Hidan went…probably off to do some sick ritual.
Things between Mariko and her father were still tense – they had never been quite the same since that day four years ago – but they were acting civilly towards one another and she was speaking to him again.
However, she still avoided Hidan whenever she could. As a baby and toddler, he had never interacted with her, and being ignored made her strive for his attention; as a child, she had understood that he didn't interact with her because he didn't like her, so she had just ignored him as well, after all, she'd had Deidara, Tobi, Kisame, Sasori, her father, and even Zetzu to play with.
Then he had chased her through the forest, making her believe that he was going to cut her to ribbons with his massive three-bladed scythe, and she had never trusted him after that; not that she had ever completely trusted him, even before that day.
She finished putting the dirty dishes in the cleansing water. She turned away from the sink and looked down at herself. She was filthy; dirt covered her arms and hands and face, there were dirt and grass stains on her clothes, even though they were difficult to see on the black fabric, and a small tear in her shirt.
"Dammit," she sighed as she poked her finger through the hole.
Closing her eyes and moaning, she stretched her arms above her head, then placed her hands on her hips as she arched her back, smiling when she heard her spine crack and felt her muscles loosen up a bit. She sighed contentedly.
When she opened her eyes, the smile fell from her face and she froze; Hidan was right there, standing a few feet in front of her, watching her as she stretched. There were trickles of blood from newly inflicted wounds running down his face, his bare chest and his arms. His violet eyes moved over her in a way that would have made her knee him if he had been any other guy. She didn't like to admit it to herself, but she was still intimidated by the silver-haired Jashinist. But that didn't mean that she was too scared to say something.
"Problem?" she asked, hoping that the annoyed tone she meant to take on covered up the shakiness in her voice.
He didn't say anything, or make any indication that he had heard her, which irritated her, because she knew that he had.
She hated the way he was looking at her; it reminded her of a wolf eyeing a fawn that had wandered away from its mother. Alarmed and bothered by his behavior, she was about to say something else, when he suddenly moved forward.
He covered the distance between them in just a few strides, stopping right in front of her so that she was eye-level with his defined collarbone. He was looking down at her with those intense eyes of his, and she caught her breath. He brought his face down to hers so close that they were almost touching.
She went as rigid as a plank when he put a hand on her hip; she wasn't even trying to conceal her fright, she was far too confused and panicked to do so.
He opened his mouth and for a split second, she thought he was going to kiss her, they were that close. Instead, he whispered, "You're blocking the fucking sink." And he used the hand that was on her hip to move her around so that their positions were reversed; their eyes were still connected.
He let his hand fall and he smirked as he turned his back to her, turned on the faucet and began washing the blood off his body.
She backed away from him slowly, never tearing her eyes from him. Her hands were cold and clammy and she clenched them into fists instinctively. Once out of the kitchen, she turned and walked mechanically down to her room.
She had locked the bedroom door and gone into her bathroom, locking that door behind her as well. She began breathing in great gasps, while clutching the sides of the sink; she started trembling; her eyes welled up, making them look like pools of quicksilver. She looked at her reflection in the mirror; she looked pitiful.
"Dammit!" she yelled, slamming her fist into the wall, effectively creating a small crater. She was angry that he still had this effect on her; she was sure that she was over what had happened enough that she could look at him in the face and not feel the old fear rising up in her. Apparently, she was wrong.
After inspecting her newly busted knuckles, she stripped off her dirty and torn clothing and stepped into the shower, letting the hot water wash away the dirt and sweat, blood and tears, fear and rage.
Next time, she thought as she watched the diluted blood from her hand wash down the drain at her feet, next time, I won't break down like that. No matter what he does, how he looks at me or what he says, I will not be afraid of him.
What a wicked game to play
To make me feel this way
What a wicked thing to do
To let me dream of you
What a wicked thing to say
You never felt this way
What a wicked thing to do
To make me dream of you
--"Wicked Game"