.
I gave you my heart, not expecting you
to give it back to me in pieces.
"You're a surprisingly difficult person to find."
Hiwa laughs, flipping a page in her book. "By design."
"I can go?"
"Only if you leave the dango here."
Raidou smiles at her. It's small and private, the kind of thing that she doubts he gives away like candy. "Mind if I sit?" he asks. "I will actually just give you the dango and go if you want."
Hiwa lifts herself up from where she's leaned back against the tree, careful not to squish the dandelion sprouted out between the roots by her thigh. She closes her book over her thumb and gestures with it to the spot in front of her.
"Thanks."
He settles himself down and looks around.
The little meadow is situated amidst one of Konoha's many forests, and it's the most remote of her hiding spots. Enough people have interrupted her lately. So, she pulled out the big guns and trekked out here for the day, a basket of her favourite takeout and a couple of books packed with her to sustain her through the hours.
"Took me forever to find you here, honestly," he says. "I had to bribe one of the messenger hawk handlers to let me send one hunting for you to find you."
Surprised that he's pushing off the conversation like he is—she thought he'd be more of the short and sweet type, to jump headfirst into his conversations—she tilts her head. "Yeah? What'd you have to trade?"
Raidou pulls a face. "Said I'd help him practice for his chunin exams, coming up."
"Cute."
"Yeah." He clears his throat. "Thought you'd be at your apartment, at this point, getting ready for the festival tonight."
"What time is it?"
"Almost four."
"Huh. Yeah, guess I should probably head back soon." She slips a bookmark into her book and lets it sit in the little crook between her legs. She trades it for the dango. "I'm guessing that's what brought you here?" she asks around a bite. "What's going on between me and my date for the evening?"
Raidou shrugs. "Well, yeah."
Hiwa waves the bag of dango at him in a 'go on' gesture, too occupied with chewing to say anything.
"He's being an idiot."
She chokes out a laugh, coughing as she tries to swallow down what's left in her mouth. "Wow," she manages. "Didn't think you were going to sell him out like that."
"Not selling him out—he's doing that himself."
"I'm not going to disagree," she says. "But I think I need a bit more to go on, here."
"It's not my place to get too far into it. That's something he has to do for himself. But I just wanted you to know that I don't think he's doing the right thing, even if I know why he's doing it."
Hiwa crumples up the dango bag and tosses it at Raidou. He catches the soiled paper ball, staring down at it.
"Grief makes people do funny things, sometimes."
His chin jerks back up to look at her.
"He's never said anything about it if that's what you're wondering," she says. "I mean, I can make some guesses. But I've never asked and he's never told me. I just know what that's like."
"I don't think that excuses what he's doing," Raidou says.
"Neither do I."
"Good."
"You want me to be against him, with this?"
"I want you to be somebody who can recognize his flaws and hold him accountable, rather than somebody who lets him get away with shit he shouldn't get away with just for the sake of staying around him."
She tilts her head, watching him, and tugs on one of her braids.
"Genma's the kind of person who… tends to do stupid things without realizing how stupid they are until it's too late and he can't fix it anymore."
"And you're hoping I'll stay around even if he's already broken things?"
"No. I just want you to know that until it hits him that he has broken things, he's probably not going to realize what he's done. That if you want to fix things with him, you can't push him to do it on your time—he's going to have to do it on his."
She starts to trace an infinity shape on her knee, and her nails leave light red marks in their wake. "I don't know that I have much of a choice," she says.
And Raidou nods like he expected this answer. "I guess with what's going on with the Inuzuka and Nara, stepping away probably means divorce and that's not—"
The smile on her face is tight and uncomfortable, made up of sharp edges. "Not like that."
He stares at her. She can see the gears turning in his head, and a few seconds later, he blinks and she knows that it's hit him.
"Oh," he says. "You're… still into him."
"Unfortunately."
Raidou nods slowly. "I see. Well—"
The sound of a messenger hawk cutting through the air above them catches her ear, and Hiwa looks up just in time to watch it break through the foliage above them. It banks, right towards them, and she can see the message attached to its leg.
It's not a mission message. The seal isn't right—green, red, and black are for missions, varying levels of urgency. This one is blue, the colour for personal correspondences.
And the hawk is headed right towards her.
It pulls back just in time to flutter down onto Hiwa's knee softly, careful not to dig its claws into the bare skin. She pulls the message off of it's leg and the hawk goes back on its way without waiting for anything else.
"Who's sending you a message this late?" Raidou asks.
Hiwa breaks the seal with her thumbnail and lets it roll open on her palm. Her gut twists into a pretzel as she scans the words.
Meet me immediately at my office. Clan business.
Nara Shikaku
"Nobody good," she mumbles. "Kami, what a pain."
"Something wrong?"
She shakes her head. "Nothing. Don't worry about it. And, sorry, but I have to go—I can't let this one sit." She gets up and brushes off her dress. "If you see Genma, warn him I might be running a bit late tonight, if you don't mind?"
"Sure."
She throws her stuff into her basket, and in the corner of her eye, she watches as Raidou gets up and frowns, his gaze locked on her the entire time.
A tight smile finds its way onto her face as she gets up, the basket rested on the crook of her elbow. "And keep this place to yourself, yeah? Don't want people flocking to it."
She heads off in the direction of the mission building, which holds the office for the Jonin Commander.
Raidou catches her wrist on her way by. Hiwa stiffens.
"I know I don't know you very well," he says, "but if something's going on—"
Gently, she pulls her arm back. "I swear, it's nothing you can help with. And nothing Genma can help with, for that matter," she says. "Forget you heard anything about it, alright?"
"Alright."
"Good. Then, I'll see you tonight, at the festival."
"Yeah, yeah. See you then."
.
.
Tempting as it is to take her sweet time in getting to Shikaku, Hiwa knows she's on a tight schedule with the festival, so she drops her stuff off at home and heads right to his office.
She calls for Rei to come back on the way there. Rei, diligent as ever, is at her side in less than a minute, and Hiwa feels a rush of gratitude.
Shikaku's waiting at his desk for her. There's a cup of sake sitting out beside a stack of paperwork, and when he glances up at her as she's led into the room by one of the desk chunin, it's with the confidence of somebody who doesn't need enhanced senses to know exactly who's behind the door each time there's a knock at it.
"Hiwa," he says. "Glad you came here in a reasonable time."
"Thought you were going to have to fetch me?"
He inclines his head and gestures for her to sit at the chair across from him. "Maybe."
Hiwa settles herself down in the chair without taking her eyes off him. Rei sits beside her, her head almost up to Hiwa's shoulder. In the corner of her eye, Hiwa can see the way Rei's lips are pulled back into a ghost of a snarl.
Shikaku takes the two of them in with an impassive eye. There's nothing forced about it—it's the same easy confidence as before. The Nara tend to grind on people's nerves because they take this kind of confidence for arrogance, but Hiwa knows there's nothing arrogant about it. It's the confidence of somebody who, aside from when they're around their clansmen, is used to being the smartest person in the room. Shikaku happens to have the strength of a jonin to back that intellect up, too.
He's not cocky. His smile is, sure. But the difference is that she knows that Shikaku has the proficiency to back it up in spades, and that's what makes him dangerous.
He's second only to Lord Hokage for a reason.
He holds up a stack of papers. "Shiranui Genma's mission report," he says, waving them around. The packet falls from his grip and onto the simple black tabletop with a resounding thump. "Quite an interesting read. Especially that little part where he identified a jutsu you used to restrain an enemy Kusa nin—something that you, funnily enough, skimmed over in your own report—as the Nara Shadow Technique."
It's a waste of time to skate around the conversation, shits and giggles aside, so she says, "Probably because it was my own version of the Nara Shadow Technique."
"There we go. Wasn't so hard, was it?"
"We'll see."
Shikaku quirks an eyebrow.
He pushes his chair back and opens one of the drawers. He digs around. She can hear the files rustle against each other as he does, and catches the low hum that comes from Shikaku when he finds what he's looking for.
Rather than explain this one, he slides it across the table to her.
She doesn't dare move her hands from where they're folded in her lap, her knuckles white.
It's a copy of one of the thousands of legal reports that have been produced since the village was founded. As far as she knows, they come about when the Hokage of the time was settling a matter and he wants it to set a precedence. The smaller, stupid laws that nobody actually pays attention.
Like comparing traffic laws to the Constitution. Everybody knows that they have a right to free speech, but not a lot of people will know that it's illegal in some states to have anything hanging from your car's mirror if it'll make it harder for you to see.
In light of this dispute, the unique property rights possessed by the noble clans of Konoha must be recognized, as these clans have earned these rights through their continued loyalty to the village. The Uchiha, Hyuuga, Senju, Kurama, Nara, Akimichi, and Yamanaka clans all—
Hiwa's gaze skips down a bit, but she thinks she knows exactly where this is going.
It is our duty to protect the sanctity of—
Her eyes jump further. She forces her hands to smooth out in her lap.
In light of these unique techniques and the dangers they can pose if allowed to be practiced freely, even by those outside their respective clans, it is hereby illegal for a ninja to attempt to learn said techniques without the expressed permission of the clan, as—
Hiwa stops reading.
Her eyes pan up to meet Shikaku's, and he nods at it. "Well?"
"You're telling me I broke the law by learning the Nara techniques on my own."
"You did," he says. "Wanna know why?"
Unable to help herself, Hiwa asks, "You going to tell me anyway?"
"Sure am." He takes the sheet back and slides it into the drawer, saying, "About twenty years again, somebody decided that they wanted to try and learn the Nara Shadow Techniques, too. They weren't part Nara—just somebody who happened to have vaguely similar yin chakra to the type Nara are born with. Enough that he had some connection to his shadow."
"And he taught himself the technique."
"Not quite," Shikaku says, "because he died trying to."
Hiwa stiffens.
"Close enough to died, at least. He went brain dead because the first time he tried it on another person, his body wasn't able to cope with the sudden disconnect from his yin chakra. The Nara technique doesn't work like most jutsu—there's no combining your yin and yang chakra to work it. It's pure yin chakra, and without the proper training, if your connection to your yin chakra isn't strong enough then when you extend it out into your shadow, and then out towards your enemy, your chakra systems won't be able to reel it back in."
"And it severs the connection between your soul and your physical body."
Because that's what yin chakra is—your soul. Just like yang chakra is your body.
He inclines his head. "So you did some background reading, at least."
"I tracked a couple of Nara through the library," she says. "Saw what kind of chakra theory books they were reading and got them for myself. Extrapolated the rest from there."
It was nowhere near a perfect way to go because a lot of the necessary information was kept locked up in the Nara's personal library, and she had no way to access that. But she went as far as she could with the information available to her.
There were a lot of books on meditation and yin chakra theory. Basic stuff, at first, while she was just a genin. And she didn't get far when she was a chunin, either. When she became a special jonin was the point that she started to make real progress.
She thought the yin chakra theory was the most useful, and the meditation bits were fun and relaxing but ultimately inconsequential. In retrospect, with what Shikaku said, they might have saved her life as all of the ones she read advised on how to connect with your yin chakra through meditation.
The yin chakra theory didn't properly click until one day that she was reading a book on yin chakra storage and the idea hit her like a bolt of lightning.
Or, rather, the memory hit her.
Floating along with a group of fellow prospects, her temporary CIA identification badge hangs off a lanyard around her neck and flaps against her chest as she walks along behind the guide. They're here as a part of their cultural training. She only had to go to the South Asian exhibits, but she decided to tag along for the Egyptian one out of interest.
"And this is a shadow box," the tour guide says. "Egyptian folks believed that the soul was made up of a handful of parts. One of those was the sheut, or the 'shadow', and when they died they stored that part in these boxes that would then be buried with them."
Once she came back to herself, she remembers she sat in shock for a handful of seconds, near knocked off her feet by how vivid the memory had been, when the thought caught up to her and she made the connection like a thousand-piece puzzle falling into place before her eyes.
That yin chakra theory was studied to help control your shadow, the knowledge that yin chakra and your soul were intimately connected, and now the idea that the shadow was an aspect of the soul. She had never fully wrapped her head around why yin chakra specifically had to be used for the Nara technique. She got it, then. Yin chakra being used to control the shadow and the soul being connected to yin chakra were two sides of the same coin—yin chakra worked best to control the shadow because it is the shadow.
And that was the point where she started to make progress.
She wonders if that memory-induced epiphany was another thing that kept her from killing herself trying to learn this technique.
"So it's illegal because it's dangerous?" she asks. "Then why aren't all dangerous jutsu illegal?"
"Because that's not the case," he says dryly. "It's illegal because, under this law, clan-specific jutsu are deemed the property of the clan they belong to due to their inherent danger, so by learning to use it without permission you've essentially stolen from the clan."
She lets out a deep breath. "And by stealing from the clan, it becomes a Nara clan matter, and the ruling of how to rectify it is up to you, not Lord Hokage."
Which meant that the clan would, theoretically, be able to provide whatever punishment they deemed fit. Including forcibly recognizing her as a Nara. In turn, that would grant them control over her marital status.
A white-hot burst of panic blossoms in her chest. At her side, Rei growls, and Shikaku takes this in with a cool gaze. "That's correct," he says. "Though, I plan to speak with him about this tomorrow."
Hiwa has nothing she can say to this. There's no counter-argument she can present, no loophole she can try and slip through, nothing. She's out of her depth. So, she needs to go right to the one person who won't be.
"Is that all?" she asks.
"For now."
"Then I'll be off. I have a festival to get to."
"Yeah? Say 'hi' to Genma for me, will you? Haven't seen him around in a bit."
Hiwa channels all her frustration into a sunny smile. "Sure."
.
.
"You know, I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to be here—"
"Shikaku just told me that learning the Nara Shadow Technique is literally against the law and I can be prosecuted by the Nara for it."
Jiraiya freezes, his brush hovering over the paper. A gob of ink falls from the end of it and Jiraiya mutters a few curses.
"How did you even get in here?" he asks.
"Snuck in."
They're in the bowels of T&I, somewhere that, as Jiraiya guessed, Hiwa technically isn't supposed to be. But she tracked him down here and she snuck in easily enough on her own—Rei had to stay outside.
"Kami," Jiraiya mutters. He clears his throat. "Okay, hit me with that again. With a bit of context."
It takes her a few minutes to recount the entire thing and by the time she's done, Jiraiya's got his fingers pinched on the bridge of his nose and a sour look on his face.
"Yeah. Okay, yeah. This is kind of bad."
"Kind of bad?"
"Fucking—it's pretty bad, alright?"
"If Lord Hokage really is not wanting to deal with this, the easy way out for him is to brush it under the rug and let the Nara deal with it themselves."
"I know," Jiraiya says. "Which is why I'm going to talk to him first."
"And say what?"
The absolute best scenario is that Hiruzen ignores a law that was passed by one of his predecessors and throws the entire situation out. If Hiruzen puts his foot down once, she can't see the Nara trying again, not unless they stumbled into some other kind of trump card.
But in light of what Jiraiya told her? With how much else there is to deal with? The smart thing to do is let the Nara handle it. Both because it saves him from having to deal with it, but because right now, having his Jonin Commander on his side is going to be invaluable. Shikaku is who Hiruzen will be counting on to help him navigate the uncertain waters over the next little bit—not that she thinks Shikaku would actively not do his job because Hiruzen chose not to take his side.
Shikaku's a bit of an asshole, but he's a loyal Konoha ninja, of that she has no doubt.
More, it's like giving a dog a treat. They might sit on command without one after a bit of meandering, but a treat in front of them can make the obedience instantaneous.
Hiwa yanks on one of her braids, hard, and winces.
"Hey," Jiraiya says sharply.
She forces her gaze to lift from the concrete floor to be level with his gaze.
"I'm going to figure this out. You understand me?" he says. "I'm not going to let this sit, and I'm going to make it very clear to Lord Hokage where I stand on this."
"You think that'll help?"
"Lord Hokage doesn't ignore me when I voice my opinion."
"So, you're not sure," she translates quietly.
"I'm not. But I'm going to try."
He gets up out of his chair and walks over to her. Both of his hands settle over her shoulders, warm and firm, and he turns her around and leads her to the door. "And while I go and do that," he says, opening the door, "you're going to go and enjoy the festival."
"I can't—"
"You can," he says, "and you will. This is my problem now, not yours. Go… I don't know. Go get drunk, or something. That's what a seventeen-year-old is supposed to do, right?"
"I don't think you're supposed to encourage drinking, regardless of age."
"Well. Go eat some food. Maybe play some games—those things are rigged, but I'm sure you'll have no problem."
She stands outside the room.
When she doesn't immediately make for the way out, Jiraiya raises an eyebrow, expectant.
"Thank you," she says. "For having my back."
"Like I told you, kid. My responsibility. Somebody's gotta. All that jazz."
"You don't have to, though. Nothing's forcing you."
Jiraiya scoffs. "Nothing but my conscious."
"And that's enough."
She can see that he doesn't quite know how to answer, from the way he's staring at her blankly, so she throws a wave over her shoulder at him and heads off.
The situation is going to haunt her until it's settled, no matter what he says, but knowing that he's on her side makes it easier. She's grateful for that, in a way she'll never be able to describe. And as long as he's heard that from her at least once, she's satisfied.
.
.
Genma's waiting on her couch when she gets home.
She hesitates in the doorway for a second, surprised, but by the time his head turns to look at her, she's erased it from her posture and put a smile on her face.
He's in a plain black shirt and dark blue pants, his hair hanging freely around his face without a bandana to cover it. The senbon is in his mouth, as usual, and the sight of him in her house does something weird to her heart that she shoves aside.
"How come nobody gets the meaning of a locked door?" she asks.
She steps inside and shucks off her shoes, closing the door behind her.
"Dunno," he says. "Came in through the slider. That wasn't locked."
"It was when I left."
Which means that at some point, Kakashi had been in her house. Sure enough, when she casts her gaze to her bookshelf, she can see the one he'd borrowed sitting on one of the shelves and an empty slot in the shelf above it.
And he left the slider unlocked behind him because he knows that it annoys her.
Her gaze lands on the clock.
Six-thirty.
"Shit," she mutters. And because it's polite, she tacks on, "Sorry, I didn't realize it was so late."
Which isn't entirely why she's bothered by the time. More, she wants to be there as close to the start of the festival as she can.
Seven o'clock is when things really kick off because that's about when the sun's fully set and the moon can be seen in its full glory. There's always a round of fireworks set off to celebrate, and she'd rather not miss that. Not to mention that the stalls with the tsukimi dango always sell out quickly; there's never enough stalls with it to meet the demand. Which sucks because that's one of her favourite things about the festival.
The whole offering process is worthwhile, too, but that's never really been what drew her to the festival. That tends to be more for the civilians—not a lot of the ninja population believe in the spirits like that, her included.
"It's fine. Rai caught up with me."
"Oh. Good."
She's not surprised when he doesn't ask about it, and she's grateful because if he does, she's going to have to lie to him and she doesn't quite feel up to that, right now.
If things escalate, she'll tell him. But right now when there's a chance that Jiraiya might be able to sort all of this out, there's no reason because there's nothing Genma can do about what's happening. He has no clout to swing around, no connections to pull. All he'll be able to do is feel guilty for getting her into this situation.
And considering she'd be in a worse situation if it wasn't for him, that's not what she wants.
"Give me twenty to get ready, then I should be good," she says, headed for her room. "Tea's above the sink, and I've got some leftover takeout in the fridge from earlier today if you're hungry."
"Think I'm good. But, thanks."
"'Course."
She throws her kimono on as fast as possible and gets her hair twirled up into a woven updo in record time. The kimono is one she bought specifically for the Lunar Festival when she went out shopping—it's a simple yukata, dark green in colour with bright pink and orange flowers splattered all over it and a pink obi. On her way out of the room as she's passing her vanity, she sticks a sakura pin in her hair on impulse.
Fifteen minutes. Not too shabby.
She fiddles with her obi as she walks back into the living room, trying to slide her fan into it without squishing it. Genma's staring at her when she looks back up. He's sitting straight as a board, eyes intent, and she stops in her tracks.
"What?" she asks.
He seems to shake himself. "Nothing, sorry. Ready?"
"Yeah."
"Then we ought to get going. Fireworks are soon, right?"
"'Bout fifteen minutes, yeah."
"I'm sure we can find a decent rooftop to catch them from."
He grins at her, and it's the familiar grin, the one he gave her when she offered to teach him solitaire and got into stupid book debates with him, and now she knows she's the one staring.
She smiles back and hopes that it doesn't give away the ache in her chest.
Already, she regrets this.
"Yeah," she says. "Sounds good."
.
.
They end up on some shop roof in the middle of the village. The fireworks always get set from the Hokage Monument, where they'll be visible through most of the village.
Ninja litter the rooftops as the fireworks kick-off, all eager to get the best view available. She and Genma aren't picky—they pick the first empty rooftop and then less than a minute later, the sky's an explosion of brilliant lights and designs, all cast over the canvas of the crescent moon.
It's beautiful.
And the entire time, she can feel Genma hovering right at her side, so close that their hands brush a few times. Her skin tingles each time they touch and though Genma tries not to react, she can see the way his fingers twitch, as if he's having to keep himself from grabbing her hand, and that frustrates her and thrills her in equal measure.
Once the fireworks show ends, the two of them head off into the throng of people.
Hiwa is dead-set on getting to the same dango stall she always goes to—her father first took her there when she was three, and since then, every year, she's made a stop at it. She doesn't think this year will be an exception.
Genma makes a face at the mention of going down into the crowd. She feels bad because she knows full well that that's the last place he wants to be, but he invited himself to her festival experience. She won't miss out on this tradition for his comfort—they can go somewhere less crowded as soon as she has it. But she will get it, with or without him.
And the latter seems more likely given that they can't seem to go three feet without running into some friend of Genma's, and she's not sure there's going to be anything left by the time she gets there if she waits around for him.
First, it's Anko, who grins at them and asks how the honeymoon was.
Then Izumo and Kotetsu.
"Look at the happy couple," Kotetsu croons. "How cute!"
Genma rolls his eyes. "Not a couple."
Hiwa's smile doesn't waver for a second, even as her grip on her fan tightens.
"Rumors say otherwise," Izumo says. "I mean, you guys are married. Makes sense that you'd actually get together, too. Out of convenience if nothing else."
And all Genma does is shrug.
Next is Ibiki. He takes a look at them, side by side, and claps Genma on the shoulder before heading on his way.
Then Hayate and Yugao, out on a date. Hiwa's vaguely familiar with the two of them—both of them were in her year (but a different class) at the Academy, and she spent some time with them in the camps before she went off to Wind Country.
They chat with Genma for a couple of minutes and every once in awhile, drag Hiwa into the conversation. She answers as much as she has to for the sake of politeness. And as they leave, Hayate throws Hiwa a look that she can only translate as pity and Yugao whispers in her ear, "He'll come to his senses, he's just an idiot."
Genma stiffens and throws Yugao a look that Hiwa can't decipher.
And finally, when they're so close to the dango stand that Hiwa can practically taste it, Maito Gai makes his appearance.
He bursts through the crowd towards them with the type of confidence most people would kill for, a haori thrown over his green jumpsuit, and shouts, "Youthful Teammate!"
"Sorry," Genma mumbles to her. Louder, he says, "Hey, Gai."
"Genma! And this must be Hiwa!"
"That's me," she says. "Nice to meet you."
Gai jerks forward into a bow so low that his forehead almost smacks into the ground. The second he rights himself, without missing a beat, he says, "I must say, dear Genma, I am rather surprised to see you out here this fine evening! I have never before been able to drag you out to the festivals!"
Genma shrugs. "I knew she wanted to go, so I figured I could tag along with her for a little bit."
"That is very Youthful of you!" Gai leans over and puts a hand in front of his mouth. "And how can you say no to such a beautiful face such as that. The things we do for love, yes?"
Genma raises an eyebrow at that. Hiwa waits, but no comment leaves his lips.
Hiwa forces a wave of calm to ripple through her body. It smooths out her muscles, clears her expression, and in a neutral voice she says, "We're not in love."
She expects Gai to take the tone at face value, but she sees the way his gaze flits over her whole body with a meticulous sort of efficiency and realizes that of all the people they've encountered so far, this is the one who's going to be the most difficult to brush off.
He turns his gaze to Genma. "Is that so?" Gai asks softly.
The way Genma hesitates makes her throat tighten. His eyes flit to her, then back to Gai. "I won't contradict the lady."
And funnily enough, that's the last straw for Hiwa.
Because he's been doing this all night. Where one of his friends makes a comment—which figures that their business is the village's business, apparently, but Hiwa's long since resigned herself to the fact that the rumour mill never stops churning—and Genma answers in the vaguest way possible. He'll confirm that they're not dating, sure. Anything else? He pulls out the non-committal answers, the ones that are close enough to a denial that people are satisfied.
They're not clear cut, though, and Hiwa knows what this is. She knows what avoidance tactics look like. And what other reason to use them than having somebody standing next to you who will know if you're lying?
He won't deny that there's something going on between the two of them.
Why wouldn't he properly clear the air? She knows he doesn't like people in his business. It's in his best interest for him to cut the rumours down entirely here and now, but he isn't.
And that says enough, to Hiwa.
"I'm going to go ahead and get to the stall." And with the full intention of grabbing her dango and getting out of dodge, she says, "Find me when you're done, if you want to."
She slips into the crowd like a fish into the stream. She expects that to be the end of that, but a handful of seconds later a hand wraps around her wrist and she knows without having to look behind her that it's Genma, the rough feel of his callouses against her pulse point so familiar to her, now.
He pulls her out of the crowd and into an empty alley.
The second they stumble into the alley, the sounds of the festival dampened by the distance, she yanks her arm away from him. "What—"
"What's going on?" he asks. "And don't say nothing. I know there's something—Rai mentioned you were upset, earlier, when you got that letter, and you've clearly been bothered by it the whole night. Seriously, what is it?"
"You think…" Hiwa stares at him, long and hard, and instead of answering his question, she asks, "Why haven't you told anybody outright that we're not together?"
His jaw clenches around the senbon.
"You'll tell them we're not dating," she says, "but when they joke, try and goof around and ask you if there's something else going on still, if we like each other, you don't outright tell them 'no'. And I'm guessing you don't because you can't without lying."
"That's what this is?" he asks. His voice is so quiet; she almost doesn't hear him over the ambient noise of the crowds.
It's this, it's the situation with the Nara, it's the 10th getting closer and closer, it's the threat of war hanging over her head. It's so many things that she doesn't even know where to start and she's downright annoyed when she feels tears prick at her eyes.
None of this is his business. Not right now.
"What am I supposed to say here?" he asks. "I don't…" He rakes a hand through his hair. "I don't know what you want from me."
"Tell me why you acted like you didn't feel anything for me anymore when you do."
"Yeah? Tell me why you ran away the last time I tried to have this conversation with you. I wanted to clear the air and you bolted."
Her hands clench at her sides. "Because I was scared," she says. "I was scared you were going to tell me you changed your mind and that you never actually liked me."
The words slip out before she can reign them in and sit in the air between them, so heavy that Hiwa feels like she can't breathe.
It feels like she said too much and not enough at the same time.
Because how does she tell him that he terrified her, that she thought she'd been duped into thinking she could build a life, again. That he'd tricked her into playing into the universe's hands, an accomplice in getting her hopes up to be dashed.
She never got a relationship with her mother, but she had her father, her clan, and eventually her team. That was her family; that was her home. That was enough for her, right?
Then the war, her team. That tore down her brick house like it was straw and some dipshit wolf had blown it down.
But she still had her father and her clan with her, and Jiraiya in his own way, as able to be as he was, and that was fine. Or it would have been, could have been, with time.
So, she started to lay down her foundation of bricks once again only for the Kyuubi attack to crush it like a sandcastle going under when the tide rolls in.
It was only logical that she stop trying.
And then Genma went and made her do the exact thing she knew she couldn't because each time she tried her home got torn down brick by brick, and she let herself hope that not this time, that she'd have somewhere again, and he made that hope look so painfully naive.
"And I know that's not the case, now," she says. "It—I don't think you've changed your mind. But you were acting like you had. And you're still acting like it. So, what's your excuse?"
"What?"
"Talking to you is like talking to a brick wall. I feel like you never just give me the full truth. Bits and pieces of it, maybe. But you're never completely upfront and honest and open and I can't deal with it." Tears freely trail down her cheeks, now. Her chest is tight and hot. But she stares at him with squared shoulders and a set jaw. "You like me. Tell me I'm wrong."
And she knows that he can't. The silence that stretches on confirms it, and the fact that he can't just give her an answer makes it all the worse.
She's laid everything down from him and he's got his cards right at his chest rather than return the favour.
Genma steps towards her and his thumb brushes the dampness off her cheek.
She knocks his hand away. "Don't," she says. "I can't play games, like this."
"Hiwa—"
She brushes past him, knocking her shoulders into his, and when she disappears into the crowd this time he doesn't reach in and pull her out.
.
.
The dango stand is all out by the time she gets there. The stall owner gives her a small, apologetic smile, and Hiwa trails off home in a daze.
A/N: ah yes, angst.