Help Wanted
Chapter Twenty-Six — Down Memory Lane
Dedicated to Amy Roth
"This is how memory works: things disappear without your permission, then come back again without your permission. And sometimes they come back incomplete and warped."
― Kristin Cashore
Nine Hours Earlier
"For the last time, I'm not besotted with Itachi. I'm not even sure I like the damn bastard," a red-hot blush crept up Tenten's slender throat and she could not trust herself to meet Hidan's gaze in the rearview mirror.
He snickered. "Then why are you so red?"
"I only ask that you make certain he takes his medication every day. That doesn't mean a thing," she muttered awkwardly.
How did she explain that the concept of Itachi dying filled her with panic? She couldn't even say that she liked him because, right now, she didn't like him at all. The cruelty with which he tossed his money at her had crippled something within her. It scared Tenten to acknowledge any kind of feelings for a man who could behave like that.
"He has a habit of neglecting his health," she confided softly, drinking in the sight beyond the car window with strained brown eyes.
Amegakure changed every few minutes on their journey. The downtown flickered between affluence and poverty as the vehicle weaved through labyrinth of roads. There were streets of up-market stores, smooth black and glass exteriors flaunting fancy names, in fancier lettering. The kind of places made all the more inviting with their air-conditioned atmospheres, music and well groomed subservient staff.
It was one of the Fire Country's wealthiest cities. About half a century ago though, it was known only for its abject poverty, bad weather and high crime rates. All of which were still prevalent in some areas.
"It means you actually give a fuck—" Hidan incised, levelled pink eyes pinning to her with questioning force. "—otherwise you wouldn't be asking me to play fucking nurse."
"Forget I asked," she told him hurriedly, keen to bring the conversation to a swift conclusion. He had been teasing her since the car swung out of Itachi's driveway and Tenten was close to tears. "With Konan there you won't have to trouble yourself," she added stiffly.
For a split-second she felt so corrosively bitter that it physically hurt to breathe. She had a feeling that woman was behind everything that happened this morning.
A wry smile of knowing curved Hidan's mouth.
There was a stretch of silence but he made no attempt to break it. The four-wheel-drive lurched and bounced over the appalling surface of a road that could only be described as a monochrome patchwork. It was lined with shiny boarders of tar and yet, despite these fixes there were still a number of cracks and potholes.
In moments they were passing run-down pawn shops and liquor stores. Misery permeated the place. It was soaked into the sidewalk cracks and into the graffitied walls. It was etched in every gaunt and dejected face that they drove pass. A few clung to holy books as if it was their last hope for something better.
Something that wouldn't come in this lifetime, Tenten knew. Rather it would come after they've passed from hunger, pneumonia or some other kind of infection. They were garbage—damaged bodies and damaged minds. Each one of them had a story. Just like she did.
It felt almost nostalgic to pass through—windows rolled up, doors locked, music on—except Tenten had always been on the other side. Outside. In back alleys where the few restaurants that persisted in trading had their garbage searched several times a day, and not just by stray cats.
She looked on, her emotions all over the place; her eyes stinging like mad. She had no other choice than to go back to where it all begun. That small impoverish town on the outskirts of Konoha. No one would expect her to. Not even Obito.
Her heart thumped sickly in her throat. She wanted to open the car door and take off like a jet plane. She wanted to leave everything about Amegakure that distressed her far behind—Itachi, to be specific. But Tenten knew that wherever she went, the torment of pain would remorselessly be trapped inside her. She was stuck with it.
And God forbids she ended up pregnant with his child. She'd be stuck with the pain forever, whether she kept the baby or not.
In a purring undertone that still sliced through the throbbing silence, Hidan spoke. "Hey Girl Scout."
"What is it?" she asked with a slight hiss of irritation.
He released his breath in a slow, sardonic exhalation, "The least you could've done was to not sound so fucking bitter about the prospect of Konan being around Itachi 24/7 now."
"As long as she ensures he takes his insulin then I don't care about that," Tenten declared, her chin coming up at a pugnacious angle because she was indignant at his assumption that she was jealous. But she was even more appalled by the spasm of guilt that his accusation had caused.
Was she really besotted with Itachi? And was she just lying to herself and making silly excuses in a forlorn effort to avoid facing the embarrassing truth?
Tenten was shaken by those inner questions, and in a sudden movement of denial waved him off. "If I'm to be completely honest, I'd like to see Itachi rot in hell. My concern is nothing but an act of saving face. I refuse to give another Uchiha the satisfaction of crushing me any further…" her voice petered out as a wave of giddiness momentarily left her head swimming.
"If you're going to be sick then roll down a fucking window," Hidan lifted a strong hand and brought it down again on the steering wheel in a compelling motion. "I just had these carpets cleaned."
A pulse beating suffocatingly fast in her throat, Tenten braced her hand against the back of the driver's seat to steady herself. "Carpets can be recleaned."
"Don't make me forget that I actually like you." A warning flare of magenta was glimmering in his gaze. "You don't fuck with my baby. It cost me six months without the comfort of a stripper to buy this bitch," he smoothed his palms over the dashboard.
Tenten's brain froze on one word. Baby
Raw panic threatened to eat her alive because she had never felt so dizzy before. Dizziness was not something she suffered from, so what was causing it? Oh, dear heaven—was it possible that she could be pregnant? How likely was it that she would get symptoms so soon?
She scolded herself for overreacting, but she still kept the fear below the surface of her mind. Unfortunately it would be another week before she could put that fear to rest.
Brown curls streamed back from her face as her chin came up. "I'm not going to be sick. I haven't slept in three nights and I think it's finally catching up on me."
"Up all night worrying about dear old Itachi huh?" Hidan shot back at her, fast as the speed of light.
Tenten blushed furiously.
"Cute as fuck," he chuckled.
"My life doesn't revolve around that pig," she protested painfully, deeply aggrieved. She didn't want to think about Itachi or the fact that he had so callously kicked her out on her birthday. "I wish you would stop insinuating that it does."
"Whoa, what's with the name calling?"
"Itachi is an asshole," she squeezed her stinging eyes shut and trembled. So much pain—more pain than she had ever experienced, and that in itself was frightening. "I hope I never have to see him again."
"Oh really?"
Her mouth wobbled and then compressed. "Yes."
"You don't have to lie." He dragged his smouldering gaze away from her to focus on the road ahead. They were in suburbia now, rows of uniformed houses and neatly mowed lawns. "We're leaving Amegakure now. Where exactly am I taking you?"
Where exactly was she going? Tenten struggled valiantly to think but at that point her brain was already switching off and she lowered herself unto the warm, comforting solidarity of the leather seat.
Yes, she admitted wearily, for two out of those three nights she did lie awake perturbed by Itachi's ailment. Last night however, it was rather her own sickness that troubled her.
Sickness of the heart.
She knew that being easily dispensable was a compromise that came with signing Itachi's contract, by default. But she never anticipated being thrown out on her face like that, after the night they shared together.
Had their passionate response to each other been that misleading, that she'd imagined there was something between them? Something that was causing her all this pain—the only intangible thing that could hurt worse than any physical blow. Her mouth turned down expressively at the particular word that came to mind, because it did not exist.
Not in the context of her relationship with Itachi.
Everything between them had always been strictly business. Though from the moment she met him, Tenten became virtually fascinated with Itachi. The fact that his younger brother had once been the unwitting target of her childish crush had made her even more susceptible to his dark and brooding good looks.
She fell into bed with him because she could not resist him, not because of their contract. There, Tenten reflected heavily, she was finally being honest with herself. Only being honest made her feel infinitely more vulnerable.
Moisture dripped on her clenched fists and when she lifted an uncertain hand to her damp face, Tenten discovered that she was crying. It was so very hard to try and remain calm over Itachi's accusations, as unspoken as there were. But those same accusations revealed so much about him.
From the outset Itachi had been sickly suspicious of her. He had probably fought hard against the attraction between them and, even in succumbing to that attraction, he had still been on red alert for anything to condemn her for.
Her history with Obito was apparently enough for Itachi, and he obviously thought she had deliberately sought his bed. He believed her to have been by Obito to get close to him. It didn't take a genius to figure it out. After he saw the brand mark, he completely lost his shit.
Itachi ran true to type, Tenten reflected numbly. Hot-blooded, rash, suspicious and jealous—the archetypal smouldering Uchiha. Yet it was so difficult to equate that image with the arctic, self-contained male who had rejected her this morning. Had it been beneath his precious dignity to reveal the extent to which he believed himself to have been deceived? He may not have called her a whore but indeed, in retrospect, she realized that Itachi had been remarkably restrained earlier.
It was almost laughable that he could have believed her to steep in sexual sin in the name of revenge—vengeance on someone else's behalf. But Tenten couldn't laugh, had never felt further from laughter. A shudder of revulsion assailed her.
She felt agonizingly hurt and bitter and it was that incredible pain which she now feared most of all. Her pride and her principles revolted against the image Itachi now had of her. Being treated like a scarlet woman might have briefly appealed to her sense of humour if she had been putting on act but—
It was like having a knife driven into her heart. Her stomach twisted sickly.
—Tenten would never ever forget how close she had come to loving the bastard.
The memory would always be there in the back of her mind, reminding her of a time she had been vulnerable, a time she had found someone staggeringly attractive on a purely physical level, and that something inside her which she was deeply ashamed of had made her behave more outrageously around Uchiha Itachi than she would ever have dreamt of behaving around any other man.
Why was that? Was there actually a part of her which had rejoiced in his desire for her body? Could she be that stupid? Or could it be that she had used him in the same way he used her?
Nonsense, she scolded herself and slid into sleep.
A few hours later her nose twitched on the smell of fish, earth and spice, underpinning the fumes from belching vehicles. Her heavy eyelids lifted slowly.
The slight forward thrust of the vehicle heralded their arrival—somewhere.
She woke up in a hurry, jerking upright. Somehow she had been moved to the front passenger's seat but that was the least of her worries. "We've stopped. Why have we stopped?"
Tenten blinked hard and looked out the side window.
It took her all of three minutes to realize where she was. Sheer shock grabbed her by the throat. The place had grown into a dense and cluttered town since she left a few years back. The buildings were an amazing jumble of different styles: rickety wooden shops, marble and brick houses, huge stone churches. Everything looked beaten down and baked by the sun—and sunlight was everywhere: in the dust, in the vivid colors, in the smells of spices and overripe fruit in the nearby market.
Her lower lip dropped as she stared, for she had no recollection of telling him she intended to return to Konoha. "Why are we here?" she asked on the edge of panic.
"What kind of fucking question is that?" Hidan breathed with a chilling bite and treated her to a sizzling glance over his shoulders. "Aren't you from Konoha?"
She lowered her head, feeling foolish. Of course he knew she was from Konoha. She had drunkenly blurted it to him and the rest of Itachi's subordinates that night they came over to taste test the wines. "How long have I been asleep? It must've taken at least eight—"
"—eight fucking hours of listening to you snore," he derided. "Itachi fucking owes me a shit load of gas money for this. You're lucky I like you, Girl Scout. Or I would've dumped your cute little ass at the nearest fucking bus stop."
"Perhaps you should've," her voice seemed to come from far away.
"Once we get into the city you're on your fucking own. I'm done playing chauffeur."
On your own.
The words echoed over and over in her head.
"On my own," Tenten went very still.
Almost as if she were a statue, Hidan thought irrelevantly. He went on studying her for the space of another heartbeat as she sat there, perfectly motionless, as if frozen in time. Nothing seemed to register in those big brown eyes—arrestingly beautiful eyes set in a face that even Itachi's high standards for female allure could not fault.
"I know it's none of my business," He scratched his head, unsure why he was even making an attempt to set her mind at ease. But she was just sitting there, and something in her very stillness made the tension pull at him. Tension he did not want to feel. "Don't take any of this personal. It's not you. It's Itachi."
Somewhat cliché and meaningless, the words fell into the space between them.
For the space of another heartbeat time held still. An eternity of time in the briefest span. Then, like a film starting to play again, her body unfroze. With her customary graceful movements she undid her seat belt and made to exit the car.
"Are you crazy? This place can hardly be considered Konoha. We haven't entered the city yet."
He was right. This region wasn't considered a part of Konoha—at least not anymore. Today it was dubbed The Konohian Ruins. It had apparently been completely forgotten by the city council when Konoha underwent renovation after the Great War. The town only served as a historical site or an indicator to travelers that they were close to entering Konoha.
This place had been built by greed and abandoned without a backwards glance. Centuries ago settlers came with the allure of diamond in the streams and left in bitterness, resenting the land for its failure to deliver. That was what the folktales said.
Hidan leaned across, closing a hand over Tenten's to stop her. "Where the fuck are you going?"
"I'm going home," she answered. Her voice was serene, untroubled. "Thank you for the lift, though I suppose a lift wasn't exactly what this was?" Her tone was conversational, unexceptional. "Be sure to reimburse yourself for the gas before returning Itachi's money to him."
There was no emotion in her face as she spoke.
She would permit none.
Then she snatched her hand from underneath his and stared blindly ahead. Slowly—very slowly—her fingers curved into the palms of her hand.
Gouging deep.
"It was nice to have met you," still showing nothing in her eyes except politeness.
He frowned, "You're not taking the money? You fucking earned it."
At that, tears swam in her eyes and she wrinkled her nose to hold them at bay.
Her mind darted, like dragonflies scything across a pond with sharp, knifing movements. She wondered what the dragonflies in her head were. Then she knew.
Knew by their iridescent wings, their flash as they caught the light.
They were memories of how she had earned that money.
So many memories.
Stabbing and darting through her head. Memory after memory. As sharp as knives. Working through time, taking her back and forth. The memories shamed her. They made her want to strip herself bare and scrub her skin raw.
Bastard, Tenten thought, still absolutely shattered by Itachi's cruelty. She had believed herself to be falling in love, had held nothing back, had for a fleeting moment believed she was lucky that someone like Itachi had chosen her out a hundreds of girls to bear him a child.
But now shame and self-disgust drenched her and she hated him for that. He didn't have to make her sound so cheap,did he? In the most essential way of all, she had been innocent, and there had been nothing calculated about her response to him, despite what he thought. How could he believe her to be in allegiance with someone like Obito?
"What is it Girl's Scout?" Hidan turned her to him.
Tears were running down her face. Quietly, silently.
He gave a soft rasp in his throat. Then he put his arms around her, drawing her to him, holding her against him as they sat together, side by side. And still her tears came—so quietly, so silently.
Making words unnecessary.
Not that he knew the right words to say to her. He swore to Itachi that he wouldn't say a thing about their blood relation. In some twisted way Hidan understood the man's reasoning for wanting to keep the truth from her. He didn't wish to traumatize Tenten any further than her childhood had clearly traumatized her.
Still, it didn't make any sense to him that she was Obito and Rin's child. But if it were not so, then Konan would've told him otherwise when she got the results from the lab this morning, no? She wouldn't continue to let Itachi think he'd been sleeping with his cousin if that wasn't the case, would she?
No she wouldn't. Konan cared about him too much. Hidan's chiseled jaw line clenched and his eyes narrowed. Something didn't sit well with him. That wouldn't stop Konan from holding off telling Itachi the truth until Tenten was successfully out of the way. It was no secret that she wasn't too fond of her.
"I'm sorry," Tenten gasped, suddenly swinging away from him, her voice embarrassingly choked. She was as pale as death, her hair like brown flames against the pallor of her skin. Her bruised eyes were filled with tears. "I'm so pathetic."
"Don't fucking apologize," he grouched, sliding back in behind the wheel. "Are you sure you're feeling alright?"
His mind was doing strange things to him, despite the self-control he was ruthlessly exerting on himself right now. Exactly what had Itachi said to the poor girl to leave her this distraught? And why did he even care?
"Yeah. It's just that I thought—" Tenten sniffed and wiped at her eyes. "—I just thought that I stopped getting kicked out on my birthday years ago," she vented a shaky little laugh.
Obito did it to her on her fifteenth, sixteenth, seventeenth and eighteenth birthday. The only difference was that Obito came back for her. Itachi wouldn't. It was only for a fraction of a second, but the realization was like the tip of a whip across her heart.
Hidan's eyebrows quirked up, "Today's your fucking birthday?"
She nodded once.
He laughed, a wild trill of mad amusement at the irony. "That fucking Uchiha really knows how to make a fucking woman feel special doesn't he?"
There was a long silence, chocolate eyes meshed with strawberry. Then he surged the powerful vehicle onwards. "Well then, fuck Itachi! Let's get you fucked up. Drinks are on me," he declared, not giving her the opportunity to reject the offer.
Tenten sat silently surveying the passing scenery for the time it took to reach the tiny, pub huddled despondently among the derelict buildings in the inner city suburb. This part of Konoha had less charm than a graveyard; at least those are places were built out of sentimentality and love. And yet, nowhere had she felt quite at home as these capriciously cruel streets.
She gave an inaudible sigh of relief when the car slowed and turned into the parking space adjacent the bar. Basking in how much the place had changed since Zabuza elevated her out of material poverty would mean taking her eye off her shoes, and Tenten knew from experience that wasn't a wise thing to do in these parts.
Another wave of nostalgia hit her as she sat across from Hidan, nursing a glass of whisky. This pub was where she made her only friend in high school, huddled over a bottle of potent amber liquid. On this very day. The ninth of March. This very table—Tenten mused, running her free hand across its surface—battered pinewood with dents from knives and forks, pens and pencils. How much of life happened around this unassuming piece of furniture?
The legs still had evidence of having been chewed on by Pakkun—Mr. Hatake's puppy.
This used to be Kakashi's spot. Every year, so long as the ninth of March fell on a school day, she knew not to expect him in his office. Briefly she wondered if he still made annual trips to the pub on this day and whether he had already stopped by. It would be nice to see him again—to know that he was well.
Though, Tenten supposed it wouldn't be wise make contact with him or linger too long here. After all, her teacher's yearly visit to this very bar was the reason Obito had kicked her out on four consecutive birthdays. What if he decided to come by? Just to check that the tradition he had opted to put an end to had really stopped.
She used to sit with Kakashi every year in this bar. At this very table. On this day. Whilst she celebrated life, he mourned the loss of his child.
Coming to think of it, Itachi had mentioned something about the possibility of Rin having conceived a child by Kakashi. It was such a small world, Tenten mused. She would never have thought that the woman Kakashi spoke of—the one who had miscarried his child, was the very same one Obito obsessed over.
Then again, it was beginning to make sense why he was so wary of Tenten getting close to Kakashi. And perhaps one of the reasons Kakashi took such a liking to her in the first place was her resemblance to Rin.
Tenten frowned, mulling over the entire situation. What was so great about one woman?
Hidan rose his glass to her, "Cheers Girl Scout. My boss no longer has to live with the fear of being charged for carnal abuse anymore. Let fuck be free."
Her laugh had a reckless edge to it, "I'm twenty-two and Happy Birthday would've sufficed, Hidan." She touched her glass to his with a light clink and gave him a small smile.
Despite his foul nature she had been drawn to Hidan more than any other of Itachi's colleagues. It was his silver hair. The sight always brought her reassurance and comfort—like her guidance counselor always did.
Already her worries were beginning to fade, even before the first taste. Just watching the liquor's gentle vortex was hypnotizing enough. At the moment there was no Itachi, no Obito trying to slaughter her, no fetus to worry over; there was just aged single-malt direct from the Rice City. It was her one vice and she intended to make a virtue of it, savour it, not race to the bottom of the bottle like she had the first time alcohol was offered to her.
By Hatake Kakashi himself.
When the liquid settled Tenten brought it to her lips, letting it sit in her mouth a while before swallowing.
Memory flickered.
OoOoOo
Traffic lights blinked to control the non-existent cars.
Just standing amid the town was enough to make her feel like a ghost, an unwanted spectre of some sort—in the same way the town was an unwanted part of Konoha. It would probably never be like those polished upper class neighbourhoods, but its alley walls had the finest artwork spray painted every night.
Tenten found herself looking for graffiti that hadn't previously been there. It had been a while since she last visited the Ruins. She had even been advised by Obito not to return. But Mr. Hatake's secretary said this was where she would him. Of course, when Kurenai revealed that bit of information the woman wasn't expecting Tenten to skip school to personally locate the guidance counselor.
What could be so important that the child couldn't wait until tomorrow? Tenten didn't know the answer to that herself. Her gut told her to seek him out today and she usually went with her gut feeling.
She heard from some of the other students that every year on this day he went to some Hentai convention where fellow fans of the erotic Icha Icha novels met up. But Tenten knew that to be untrue. Frankly she wouldn't have minded if it were so because her gut was telling her something was actually wrong.
Why else would he not turn up to school? Sure Mr. Hatake was always late, but absent? Never.
Tenten skirted one of several yawning puddles as she crossed an intersection, and on reaching the pavement she hastily sought cover beneath a sheltering shop's verandah. It was one of the coldest, wettest days to befall Konoha, she decided ruefully as she surveyed her windswept reflection in an adjacent shop window. Her school uniform was damp from the raindrops and so was her wavy chestnut shoulder-length hair.
On reaching the old pub that washed out under the overcast sky, hunched in itself, fighting against the drizzle, Tenten entered and paused in contemplative silence. A few customers glanced up as the door swung open, heralded by a blast of cold wind.
Unlike the outside, the interior of the bar was warm. There were however, many new establishments that were far more inviting—all clean with waiting staff. Not the "Thousand Years of Pain." Tenten had always known this bar to be a den of debauchery, alcoholism and the great unwashed of the town. It still was. No one ever set foot inside with anything wholesome in mind.
It made her wonder why it attracted a man like Mr. Hatake.
As the door swung closed behind the new entrant, the customers returned to their conversations, the cold breeze forgotten. The smell of cigars and stale beer clung like perfume to clothing, skin and furniture alike. Beneath that was the welcoming scent of hot chocolate wafting through the air, calling her cold and weary legs to take a rest.
On reaching the bar counter Tenten met the faintly enquiring glance directed her, and countered it coolly. "I'm eighteen," she lied aloud, above the wave of chatter and the clink of glasses and rustle of newspaper.
The bartender leaned over the bar, her black hair lying over one shoulder as she took in Tenten's attire. She could feel agitation increasing her heart-rate. What if Mr. Hatake was a no show and someone called the cops on her? What then? Obito would have her head if she ran into trouble with the law.
He was always making a fuss about 'keeping a low profile'. Whatever that was supposed to mean...
"I'd like to see some identification please." The woman stared fixedly at her, "Don't I know your face from somewhere?"
Tenten dug with deceptive purpose into her purse. She knew damn well that she didn't have the kind of identification that could save her hide from getting in trouble. "I doubt it."
She stood to her full height and she grinned down at Tenten with the unabashed friendliness of a spaniel puppy. "It was a face I envied—kept stealing all the boys back in the day." She mocked cheerfully with a wink. "I suppose you're popular with the boys over at Konoha High?"
Confused, Tenten shook her head. "Not that I know of, ma'am."
"What a coincidence! You're just as disgustingly modest," she grumbled, coiling slender fingers around a bottle. She gave it a cursory inspection, her mouth hardening. "You're not fooling anyone girlie. This isn't a place for kids." She sent her a savage look. "Did you come in here on a dare?"
Tenten shook her head.
"Just turned sixteen and came in for a celebratory shot?" She enquired idly. "Just had your first period—?"
"Fifteen," Tenten interposed matter-of-factly. "But no. I'm looking for one of my teachers."
She raked her eyes over Tenten once more and proclaimed silkily that, "I'd bet my life savings on exactly who you're looking for. I only hope he knows what he's doing."
Wide, brown eyes stared steadily back at the woman. Tenten felt a little riled up over all the nuances she was picking up from her words. They didn't strike as inappropriate at all and perhaps that was the reason for her flustered state. If the lady had been making sexual innuendos then at least she would've had justified reasons to feel the way she did, but Tenten couldn't quite wrap her finger around why the woman's idle musings left her so unsettled.
"You could pass for her reincarnation..."
"Who?"
A moment hesitation clouded the bartender's features before she lolled her head to one side, pushing out her lips just a little. Then she bellowed over the heavy metal music, "Hey Hatake! Either you've got another one of those stalker teenage girls or someone is trying to indulge in some under aged drinking before third period."
Tenten slipped onto one of the bar stools with a sense of relief at the sound of that name. Her motives for being here weren't misunderstood. Thank Heavens. She feared Obito's wrath more than the police's.
Her relief lasted less than a second.
"There's no need to shout Anko, I'm right here."
The deep, voice on her right made Tenten's head whip round.
Mr. Hatake was seated beside her. A crystal glass half filled with amber-coloured spirits rested in one hand, the other thrust into his trouser pocket. "I hope you'll enjoy the detention as much as I'm enjoying all this attention, Kaoru."
Tenten swallowed. Panic and the silly urge to get to her feet and bolt sliced through her. Instantly she fought to subdue it. There was no point in that, he had already seen her. Whether or not she fled wouldn't change that. It wouldn't stop her from getting detention either.
"I hope you have a very good explanation for having skipped school."
Why have I skipped school? She flailed around in her mind, trying to find the defense she needed. She still didn't know the answer to that. 'Her gut told her to' didn't seem like an acceptablue enough response so she swallowed it.
"Mr. Hatake, isn't it?" She hesitated over his name, as if she had difficulty recalling it—as if she hadn't just pronounced it perfectly moments ago. Then she made a show of flicking open a paper napkin from the counter and spreading it over her knees. "I could ask you the same thing."
It was a failed attempt of ignorance.
Anko shook her head and made a tutting sound. "Is this kid for real? She just said your name not too long ago."
Mr. Hakate's eyes were veiled but they crinkled at the sides. "Yeah, she's a very strange one. She actually shows up to our scheduled meetings. I've never seen anyone quite as enthusiastic or who actually takes guidance and counselling so seriously." Then quite effusively he went on to taunt Tenten, "If you're developing stalker tendencies, I think a restraining order makes more sense than detention, don't you think?"
Tenten pouted in a fit of childish ire. Sometimes it was hard to distinguish between playful teasing and the malicious kind. She didn't socialize a lot, outside of their sessions.
He reached across and ruffled her hair. "Can't go a day without unloading your problems on me, can yah? Don't you have any friends? It's been six months since you started the school."
Embarrassed colour flared out along her cheeks and she slapped his hand away. Eyes shadowed, she mumbled, "No one wants to be friends with a dunce like me."
"So what makes you think I would either?" His voice was expressionless. His swift glance was impossible to discern as well.
Tenten went pale. White as a sheet. She felt that rejection lash through her like the tail of a whip. Her one confidant associated with her because it was his job, not because he genuinely cared about her problems. Damn, her life really was pathetic. She ditched school to check on someone who considered her as nothing but another zero on his pay cheque.
"I apologize sir," she lowered her head, her voice hollow and strained. "I didn't know that was how your viewed our—I'll not trouble you anymore." Emotion was storming through her. Making it hard to speak. Impossible to think.
Obito had foretold the disappointment she would face if she grew attached to this particular teacher. He warned her that Mr. Hatake didn't care about anyone but himself. Tenten had thought he spoke in anger at seeing the man's arm around her but—
To make a long story short, she was being teased and he came to her aid.
—now it was becoming apparent that all those times the Uchiha rasped at her, he was speaking from experience. Tenten struggled however, to make any connection between the two men.
"I went to turn in my journal this morning and I saw that you weren't in your office," she eased off the stool as if to retreat but his hand closed over her elbow like a vice. "I was concerned."
He went to his feet as well, still holding her elbows and looking down at her. "You're the first to concern yourself with my absence in all the years I've been a counselor at Konoha High." His voice was no longer dry. It was no longer expressionless. His black eyes sparked with deliberate humour. "You're not like my usual fangirls."
She swallowed the lump in her throat with difficulty. He had it all wrong. "What?"
His eyes gleamed at her confusion. "I'm joking, just as I was moments ago. Don't be so sensitive." Then he turned slightly to regard the bartender. "Anko," he acknowledged blandly. "It's not every day a young lady turns fifteen. Prepare something special for Kaoru."
The woman dutifully moved to the drinks cabinet and replenished Mr. Hatake's glass. She then filled a delicate fluted glass from a decanter and handed it to Tenten.
She accepted it in silence.
"Mineral water," Anko winked. "On the house."
Once they secured a table in the corner, Mr. Hatake began tolerantly, "Now." He leaned back into his chair, lifted his glass and slowly drank half the contents. "What brings you here—besides me of course?"
Tenten relieved herself of her knapsack, set her glass down on the table and ran her palms idly over the surface. The dark pinewood was smooth and had the lustrous quality of well waxed wood. She could tell the table was new. Compared to the others, that was.
"I used to live not too far from here actually," she volunteered, opting to talk about something else. She still had no idea what possessed her to trail the man to this pub.
"Back when you were homeless?" He was looking at her curiously and she could see he was about to pursue the subject. She knew she must head him off instantly. It was dangerous ground—far, far too dangerous.
There were some things she wasn't comfortable sharing just yet. The reality of having been homeless for eight years and unschooled for fourteen was humiliating enough. The details would have to be spared until a later date. Still she nodded.
He seemed to pick up on her disquiet. "Interesting."
The word fell into the silence. A silence Tenten did not feel the need to break. She simply sat there basking in his comforting presence. She did not know what it was about Mr. Hatake that made her feel so protected and at peace. He always knew when to press an issue and when to back down. It may not be telepathy but they shared something special. That's what Tenten believed.
Or maybe he was right and she really needed to get herself some friends within her own age group. A sense of isolation began to creep over her.
She made to moisten her dry mouth and only when she had tilted the glass to her lips did she discover that what she had chastely believed to be water was, in fact, some form of tonsil-searing alcohol. Choking, tears springing to her eyes, she shoved the glass aside in disgust and burst into an angry speech about her guardian finding out he gave her liquor.
"I neither served nor forced you to drink that," he reminded her with a twisted smile. It creased his lips but did not quite reach his eyes. "Made any plans for tonight? I know how you young folks like to make a big deal out of birthdays."
"Special plans? I wouldn't know about those," Tenten confessed shyly. "This is my first birthday."
Mr. Hatake's expression—as forced as it was—lost its smile. "That makes no sense," he shook his head.
"Sure it does," She gave a gush of laughter as insincere as it was overdone. "I didn't know that I was born on the ninth of March until recently. My new guardian was the one who informed me. Every year this day would just pass by like any—"
"—ordinary day," Mr. Hatake finished grimly. "I know."
Tenten studied him carefully, her eyes colliding with tormented dark ones There was something rather off about his whole demeanour today. His cheeks were reddening, his eyes becoming pouchy. His glass was frequently refilled, and she wondered how much he'd had to drink.
"Is something the matter sir?" she questioned.
In his hand, his glass was rock-steady. Not a tremor. His eyes fixated on her face, limpid, untroubled. As if she had merely uttered a pleasantry of no consequence or significance.
"Fifteen," he said, sounding as though a section of his brain had dissociated itself from the rest of him and was operating in a space all of its own.
"Excuse me?" she arched a brow.
For one last heartbeat Mr. Hatake held the glass, then slowly—infinitely slowly—lowered it to the table. His face blanched. "My son or daughter would've been fifteen today."
Shocked by that admission, Tenten stared him, hoping to catch any fleeting expression. "Fifteen years old? Aren't you a little too young to have a child that old?"
His mouth set into a bloodless line. "A few years back in college I—" His voice choked suddenly, and Tenten instinctively settled her small hand on top of his.
She could feel the raw tension still sizzling through him. He was as rigid as a mannequin. It told her more than enough. "I understand."
"—the child died shortly after birth. I wasn't there," he muttered unevenly. "The mother handled everything after that and we never spoke of it again. She didn't even think to tell me the gender," he breathed starkly.
Tenten smoothed out the fingers of his tightly clenched hand. Anger etched into the hard lines around his mouth.
Something like a blow struck her. It was sudden pain, hurting her. "That's why you come here every year? And I—" she pressed her lips. Tried to look away, but could not. Yet she could not meet his eyes either. She had overstepped her boundaries.
Without conjuring the will to do so, Tenten took an over-large gulp of the alcoholic content within her neglected glass as punishment. Obito had burnt into her psyche, the idea of disciplining one's self whenever one fell out of line. Belatedly she found that when she punished herself in some type of way for having flouted Obito, the penalty was less severe.
When she spoke, her words were heavy. "—I imposed on your private mourning."
"Don't worry about it." His words were slowly spoken. He shut his eyes a moment, then opened them again, and in them was something that made Tenten feel bad for ever having mentioned that it was her birthday.
"I didn't mean to bring back any bad memories," she apologized.
"Don't make that face," his chided when he glimpsed the tears welling behind her eyes. "My little bit of heaven gave me pure hell for fifteen years." He smiled a brief, social smile that barely indented his mouth. "But today, your presence is somehow making it bearable, Kaoru."
OoOoOo
Tenten's head jerked up at that, her cheeks warming as she found Hidan regarding her enquiringly. "Earth to Girl Scout," he snapped his fingers at her.
"Where have I heard that before?" she wondered, shaking her head as if to clear it and hurriedly fixing her attention elsewhere. "A little bit of heaven."
Then as if she had lifted a floodgate memory poured into her head, and for one long, endless moment she was three years old again.
Like a stiletto sliding in between her synapses, an image came into her mind. Auburn hair, curving in a smooth swathe over one shoulder, long dark lashes and chocolate brown eyes.
Eyes that were looking at her with such fondness, it was impossible to deny—impossible to hide.
A face with a warm smile
A face quite similar to the one that looked back at her whenever she looked in the mirror.
Tenten's memory fled back to that face. Although all her life she felt the desolation of a child utterly abandoned by its parents, she couldn't help but remember...
OoOoOo
"Did you give me this stupid name?" Tenten's small brows snapped together in what appeared to be self-condemnation.
The pretty lady who claimed to be her kaa-san smiled at her, "You don't like the name Tenten?"
Tenten shook her head furiously.
"But it's such a pretty name," she argued, ruffling her chestnut bang playfully. "It means heaven."
Unconvinced her pout did not waver. "That's not what the lady said. She said it meant here-there because nobody wants me so I am always moving around," Tenten huffed.
"That's not true sweetie. I want you," the nice lady said. Her soft voice hitched on a sob. "I am so sorry that I wasn't there but—" she pressed her lips to Tenten's forehead and the first tear slipped from her eyes. "—but I am here now and everything—"
The girl flinched, not accustomed to such show of affection. "Then why did you leave me?"
"Do you want to know why I named you Tenten?" she asked cheerily after a moment of seemingly debating with herself.
Tenten shrugged uncaringly. It was answers that her little heart desired the most.
"Your otou-san once said that you were a little bit of heaven that would raise all of hell when you were born―" she told her with a mirthless giggle and scratched at the back of her head. "―especially if our parents were to find out about you."
"Tou-san?" Tenten's eyes sparkled with intrigue. They were large and bold, framed with thick lashes, the colour of unvarnished oak with deep mahogany flecks―similar to the woman's.
Somewhere she could hear birdsong. She looked around her and smiled. They might be in the middle of nowhere but to Tenten it was an oasis of beauty. Of quietness. And peace.
Peace of the heart.
Slowly, very slowly, in the warm, peaceful quietness, she reached for her kaa-san's hand. It closed over hers, their fingers winding into each others.
"I have a tou-san?"
OoOoOo
Rin.
The realization came like a blow to the head. Emotion sliced through Tenten. Shock and dismay were uppermost.
"Am I really that little bit of heaven?" Her heart was gripped by a vice.
The pieces were finally beginning to slide into place; the reason she had Rin's necklace in her possesion, the reason for Obito's feeling of ill towards her, the reason Kakashi mourned the loss of his child on her birthday...
Everything was beginning to make sense now.
"Fuck, you look like you've just seen a ghost," Hidan noted, tossing back another glass of whisky.
"I have," Tenten rested her gaze rested on him, half-blind still, torn still between memory and reality, she told him grimly. "Me."
He frowned at her. "What?"
There had been a car crash that day, she remembered. And for a moment her whole body seemed to bear testimony. Memory leaped back, seizing her throat, making her breath catch chokingly.
She absently touched a hand to her forehead, "I had hit my head," she whispered to herself.
"Are you fucking drunk already? I forgot you were fucking lightweight." Hidan rasped. "What the fuck do you mean by me?"
Memory sliced through her every cell. Memory of sensations so excruciating, so excoriating that they were felt too real to refute.
Tenten swallowed, "I mean...I think I'm supposed to be dead."
A/N: Oh dear, I hope no one fell asleep in the middle of this. I'd hate for you guys to get tired of the story before all the cute stuff. This chapter happens a few hours before the previous one so that's why a certain sociopath hasn't cameoed yet. This was actually supposed to be posted on March 9th but we are waaaay behind schedule. Please forgive me :(
Anyone on android? Uses this site's official app? FF now has an app. Add me as a friend for easy communication through Instant Messaging etc ;) As always thank you for taking the time out to read. Your support means the world to me. Reviews are always appreciated :)