Runner's High
Chapter Eight, In the Opposing Corner, Protecting the Castle, it's Lady Otsutsuki!
.
.
.
She hardly knows him at all if she thinks about it.
He's nineteen. He runs. He likes ramen and travel lifestyle. He wants to return to his homeland and start his own hotel brand.
That much reads like a dating app bio.
Then there's what you learn after a night together.
He's a slave to his hormones. He's sexually adventurous, possibly conditioned by pornography. His stamina is indomitable. He's a giver as much as a taker. He's physically blessed.
And then there's what she is beginning to learn lately.
He's stubbornly infatuated with her. He's quite full of himself. He's dependent on attention. If he's not studying, he's either up to shenanigans across campus or sending her a dick pic.
And she's had to delete so many dick pics.
His texts are getting needier and more sullen and she doesn't have the time for him.
It's starting to feel like this is payback enough, that she didn't need to go through the lengths she has so far to ensure that he hates her.
While he goes running alone at their park whilst whining for her, she commutes to his campus which is situated north a few blocks from a beautiful riverwalk.
And why did he ever venture to her side of the city in the first place? This area is plenty nice, isn't it? He's certainly paying premium for the view.
It was a gamble to come here, but she imagined if Uzumaki-kun and his crude, black-haired friend were so sexually aroused by her, then others would be too. (She tries to put out of her mind how much of a tramp that makes her feel. She's merely cashing in her voucher to be a cocktease just once in her life, and for ironically noble purposes at that).
And while she's dressed as modestly as her teen self ever was, covered neck to toe in looser garments, her gamble has paid off. It's day five and she counts about twenty-eight young men who are jogging in a group along the road above, following her like mosquitoes detecting the ripe scent of sweat.
If Uzumaki-kun saw them now, how embarrassed would he feel to learn that he's no different from them?
A surly pair of black eyes catches her attention from the bridge overhead. His eyes meet hers just as she passes through the shade. And there he was: Uzumaki-kun's crude friend.
She'll wave to him when she comes back around.
She knows by now that Uzumaki-kun hates being replaced.
Perhaps even more than he hates being ignored.
It's Hisano's seventh birthday today and Hinata is looking forward to some much-missed normalcy.
She and Hanabi have worked tirelessly these past few weeks to get everything in order. She would do absolutely anything for that little girl.
Hinata's all dressed up in a ribbed turtleneck and v-neck tunic dress. She clasps a string of pearls around her neck. Her bangs are molded over a plastic roller to give them some lift, while she uses her wide iron curler on her ends. Her normally plain, flat bob transforms into something with a bit of bounce as it curves around her jawline, and she thinks it's rather chic? Vintage?
"Guess I'll see what Hanabi says," she murmurs as she curls her eyelashes next.
She was never good at this sort of thing. In a way, Toneri was a better woman than she'd ever be when it came to beauty. He influenced her a lot when they were initially dating. She was like his favorite doll and she loved the attention, the idolization. Now she simply does it because it's ingrained in her. But perhaps, maybe, it's also one of the few things tethering her to him. It had always been one of their many shared things.
When she's done, she finds Toneri in his study, and she's surprised to find him restoring one of their dolls. It was a ball-jointed doll they had customized together on their fifth anniversary. She watches from the doorway as he meticulously runs a single fiber paintbrush over the doll's eyelash one by one, and suddenly her chest aches. Nostalgia slams into her and she can't bring herself to bother him now.
No. The truth is, she can't bring herself to face him at all.
Hinata arrives at the restaurant with Hisano's birthday bag in tow. She checks in with the concierge and waits for the rest of their party.
She sits in the waiting area like a ragdoll with no purpose. Inside, she's wiped out. Nebulous and empty.
What the hell is she even doing with her life? While her husband is living in a bubble, unaware of what's truly changed, she's not only cheated on him twice, but she's working on cheating him some more all in hopes of getting one obsessed college boy to intentionally exit her life.
Why does this even happen now? She was never popular but she used to be pretty enough. Now she's this doughy, aging woman that young men suddenly want? She's looked herself in the mirror and she doesn't get it. Has the new standard for beauty suddenly been set by Byakyunyu porn stars or something? No, no. That's no beauty standard. She simply is a porn star to these type of boys, and it's utterly depressing. To go from uncool teen to wet dream in the span of twenty years, she really has nothing to be happy about, she thinks.
The sliding door opens, and Hinata is relieved when Hisano comes bounding up to her, arms outstretched for a tackle-hug.
"Oba-san! I missed you!"
Hinata's heart clenches in vindication, her soul cleansed by her niece's pure, unconditional love. She giggles demurely as she pats Hisano's pretty brown hair. "Hisano-chan, you saw me two weeks ago." But it's more than fine. She loves that she is missed so easily by this child. Hinata grows like a flower in the open plain of her love.
"Hisano, your auntie can't walk with you attached to her leg like a spider monkey," Hanabi chastises good-naturedly.
"But I want Oba-san to carry me."
Hanabi shook her head in bemusement. "My, you're spoiled. I wonder whose fault that is," she then shoots Hinata a smug look.
Hinata scooped Hisano onto her hip and stuck her tongue out at her younger sister, who then stuck her tongue back at her. It then escalated into the three of them making faces, and two more members of their party appeared, Konohamaru and her father, who he was helping walk.
"And you two are exactly why you don't get invited to do Real Housewives of Konoha. Not feisty enough."
Hanabi rolled her eyes at her goofy husband. "I think you mean not emotionally stunted enough."
Hinata and her father's eyes met, and they nodded in greeting.
"Is everyone here?" asked the concierge.
"No, still waiting on seven others. They should be here shortly," Konohamaru answered.
As they settled down in the waiting area, the smell of traditional Hi no Kuni wafted over the booths, taunting their hungry bellies.
Hinata strokes Hisano's hair as she laid her head in her lap, with Hanabi in charge of keeping her kicking legs still in the chair between them.
"Oba-san, can you tell me about boys?"
Hinata croaked with shock, turning a panicked gaze towards her sister. Hanabi smiled at her apologetically.
"Hisano-chan got asked out recently by a boy in her class. I might've said she should ask you about that subject."
"But I've only ever had one boyfriend." she hissed.
"Exactly. She's too young right now to know it's perfectly normal to date around until you find the one."
Hinata narrowed her eyes. "What are you trying to say?"
Hanabi blushed, her apologetic expression overtaken by shame. "Ah, no, I mean... You're an incredibly rare success story, right? Everyone wants that fairytale lovestory and you're living it."
A hoarse cough cut through the conversation, the daughter's eyes turning towards their father. "Fairytales are the last thing you should be telling your children, Hanabi. I couldn't do anything about Hinata, but you turned out alright without that lofty bullshit. And I for one couldn't be happier to call Konohamaru-kun my son-in-law," he punctuates his point by patting the younger man's arm hooked around his frail one.
Heat rose up Hinata's neck. Her eyes pricked in that old familiar way she so detested, because she should be used to this by now, even if it means being numb to it.
But she isn't numb.
And she's still the black sheep.
The one who followed her heart and fucked up. At least, by their standards.
God, if they even knew what she was up to these days. She'd throw herself in front of the first train before that happens.
Hinata ducked her head down, giving Hisano her full attention, and she carefully formulated her words.
"Hisano-chan, do you lend your pencils when someone needs them?"
"Yeah."
"But you never lend your final pencil even if someone asks."
"Nuh-uh. That's not my fault they're not prepared."
"Mm-hm. And do you ever get all of your pencils back?"
Hisano's face scrunched up angrily. "No! And I ask nicely too! But they just try to make excuses, like 'But don't you want me to have a pencil next time?!' It makes me sooo frustrated!"
Hinata's loves this child so much.
"Your heart is your final pencil, Hisano-chan. That's all I have to say about boys."
When they're finally seated inside their private booth, conversation flows easily between Hinata and her former high school teacher Kurenai-sensei. Her husband is Konohamaru's uncle and Hinata couldn't think of a happier day when her only true mother figure had become a tangible part of her family. It felt like something that was meant to be.
And their daughter Mirai was a wonderful young woman, too, with an equally lovely girlfriend. Their love story was an intense one, one borne between rookie cop and former cultist. To witness patience and compassion undo years of brainwashing, it secretly made Hinata swoon.
Mirai was happy to announce at that moment that Tatsumi was stuying to become a therapist so that way she can help others find healthier ways to deal with their grief.
Konohamaru had raised his glass, leading everyone into an impromptu cheer.
Hinata smiled as she sipped her heated sake, the silky smooth liquid warming her to her core. It worked like onsen water on her stubborn sadness, easing away her aches and replacing her state of being with Zen-like contentment.
Her phone buzzes.
Once is insignificant.
But five consecutive times is alarming.
She busies herself with her sake, because she swears to god if it's another dick pic, then she is going to pile on the pain that's coming his way. And she's trying to be reasonable as is.
"Hinata?" Kurenai calls, bringing attention to her annoying device. "That might be urgent. What if it's your husband?"
Oh, it most certainly is not her husband.
"Oh, no, no. It's my... co-worker. She's been nagging me to take on one of her shifts," Hinata glanced at her sister to her left, blanching at the deadpan expression directed her way. Did Hanabi not believe her? But surely she couldn't suspect her of hiding anything unseemly. It'd be so out of character for her.
"You know, Onee-chan. You don't have to keep doing the whole bored-housewife-works-part-time routine. I keep telling you I could always use a babysitter."
Hanabi shouldn't tempt her like that.
"I'll steal her from you."
Hanabi averted her gaze forward as she nervously sipped on her Banshee cocktail, quietly dropped the suggestion.
"Perhaps you should settle this with your co-worker while you can," Kurenai suggested and Hinata internally groaned at the out she's been given. She really doesn't want to deal with him, but she does need to discreetly mute her phone or turn it off or something.
Hinata bowed her apologies to the table as she deftly made her exit.
She headed outside the restaurant, just to give some validity to her lie that she was dealing with something over the line.
She cradled her phone away from passerbys like a paranoiac as she swiped away his messages one by one, catching bits and pieces of a lewd conversation she wanted no part of.
lmao look at
sex doll
got f-cups!
urs are better
doing right now?
want to mess u up
pussy feels like home
She internally screamed the deeper she dove through his madness and she paused when he sent her video.
Of his dick.
Her mouth dries as she tosses a paranoid gaze out into the crowd. She walks to the end of the restaurant and ducks into the alleyway. Suddenly she feels like the pervert in the situation. As if she's the one who needs this material.
She watches in half parts horror and awe as he stroked his girth. Thick, pulsing veins sinking beneath the steady slide of his hand, his corona darkening purple as precum surfaced from the tip. He slid his hand over the head, lubing his palm before making another pass over his shaft, the thin sheen of his fluids making his dick look sinfully juicy.
The ten second video just looped from there.
Naruto: so hard to record after a while
Naruto: i start thinking about u and forget about everything else
It's oddly romantic. Unexpectedly so, coming from him. And she hates herself for blushing. It's the most romantic moment she's had in years... until he sends the image of the aftermath, his callused hand covered in sticky, thick cum.
How a marathon masturbator like him doesn't spurt water at this point, she has no clue. And she's so annoyed how easily he ruins nice things without meaning to. She hates acknowledging how swept up in she nearly got, and she doesn't allow herself to blame it on the alcohol.
He's almost the same age as Mirai.
She needs to keep that in mind.
She also needs to keep in mind that he seems to be doing just find talking to himself like this. Five days of his bullshit and he can still get by with his hand and imagination.
What does he truly need her for?
She's just fapping material to him.
She powers off her phone and presses the ball of her thumb between her watering eyes. Her throat feels thick, uncomfortably hot and she wants to lay down.
She hates herself for getting upset.
She hates him more for being able to upset her.
He's not worth her final pencil.
He never will be.
She wakes up the next day extra early and commutes to Kodai Campus.
She wrestles with herself if she should show a little skin today.
The boys who follow her from above are not brave enough to befriend her let alone make passes. They're not the kind of men she has to worry about.
When she takes her break, she uncaps her water bottle and takes a drink. The boys have definitely stopped to watch her. Her free hand teases the zipper of her windbreaker and she drags it down, unleashing steamed skin in a tantalizing display.
She's also in the crude friend's line of sight as he stoops over the bridge rail.
"You seemed to have embraced this," he calls out from overhead. "What happened with Naruto?"
A bitter smirk cracks her face at the mention of his name. She utters cruelty that she never would have normally.
"I'm bored of him."
Crude Friend gasps in that way boys do. "Oh shit! Wow," he's hiding his mouth behind the side of his hand and she can't tell what he's thinking. There's a kaleidoscope of emotion in his reaction, but they're all sparse, unrelated fragments. Amusement? Pity? Curiosity? Interest? "God, sucks to be him right now."
She dully agrees. While she prays that Naruto will grow stronger from this experience, a broken heart is no laughing matter.
"And when are you going to tell him?" he asks.
Hinata capped her water bottle and laid it down in the shade. Little does he know that telling Naruto anything doesn't mean shit if he's not willing to listen.
She bends her arms to resume the remainder of her run.
"He'll find out eventually."
At the end of her run, Crude Friend has come down to meet her and she hopes that her plan is finally coming together.
"If you're bored of someone like him, what're you interested in?"
Hinata did not withhold her smile.
"I haven't figured that out yet. Just someone different."
"But I imagine you have some idea, right?" he begins to approach her, and her confidence recoils. Unlike Naruto's open intensity, his friend radiated with concealed intentions and a touch of darkness. He was about as different from Naruto as one could get, but so was her husband. At least with her husband, nothing riled her up. She had to be careful here, more careful than she initially thought.
Hinata tried the same thing she did on Naruto the morning that he kissed her. A little tilt of her head, a bit of girlish guile as she bends forward, offering a novel angle of her breasts inside her windbreaker. "Yes, I have some idea. Maybe you would like to help me fill in the gaps?"
Her stomach flipped and her body burned as his gaze switched from aloof to subjugating and wanting in a second.
He took a half step forward before closing his eyes, his fingertips pressed to his forehead.
When he opened his eyes again, he was calmer.
He turned around and began to head up the concrete stairs. She thought she failed, but then he spoke up.
"I'll see you here tomorrow, Oku-san."
Hinata blinked away her surprise.
She didn't expect him to have such mastery of self-control. Not after the way he looked at her.
She hates to do this to Naruto, but she's beginning to strongly consider replacing him as her running buddy.
At least his friend can keep it in his pants.
She's been going with the new flow she's created for herself outside of Uzumaki-kun. She's only been running with Uchiha-kun for four mornings now but it's been pleasant.
Well, that was until Uchiha-kun began to tell her about Uzumaki-kun's souring personality.
"You've got that sorry moron wrapped around your finger, you know that? He doesn't eat lunch with anyone anymore, he's glued to his phone, or he says he's got to study for something that's weeks down the line. Then again, I don't call him a moron without reason. Probably good for him to study ahead of time like that."
Her mind feels like a fly trap. Everything Uchiha-kun has said sticks to her but she can't work out the proper words to address it. All she feels is guilt for trapping innocent gnats and things, instead of the one thing she was aiming for.
"So are you good with this?" he says.
"Good?"
"The guy is spiralling and you're both the cause and the cure. What's your endgame here?"
"My endgame?" her voice rises with her fraying nerves. "I just want him to stop pursuing me. I'm not trying to destroy him, but if he destroys himself, then that's he what does. That's not something I did to him. I told him it was a one-time thing and he doesn't listen."
He's quiet for several minutes. She's wiping away at loose tears and it's harder to breathe right when she's trying not to cry.
"Sorry," he says, like it covers everything.
She doesn't reply to him. It wasn't okay for him to go that far. An idle morbid thought passes her as she looks at the deep river beside her. Moments like this, the water looks really good to her.
"If it's any consolation," he begins cautiously. "I do think it's fucked up that he denies you power of choice. You wouldn't be doing this secretive bullshit right now if you felt you could be honest with him, right?"
"Sure."
She's so numb right now, she's not even sure what he said.
She can't stop staring at the river.
She never would've thought today of all days was when he would find her.
She's not having a good day to begin with.
His aura is domineering and self-entitled and when he flirts with her, she shrinks down inside.
She's like those nesting dolls some days, hiding beneath layers and layers of what other people perceive her to be.
He's never even gotten past the first layer.
If he could relay to her what he knows about her, what would it be? Compared to his hypothetical dating app bio, her's is simply: old, married, shoe salesgirl. What is he in love with supposedly? Nothing. Just his own imagination.
He thinks he's so coy when he makes her model for him. She can feel his gaze and she shrinks down even smaller.
This is not a good day for her.
This really isn't a good day for her.
She can't tell him, though. He'll morph into a sympathetic savior and she doesn't want that.
There's not one damn shoe he can afford in here. The three she picks are mid-range in price, and even if he walks away with one, it's going to hurt.
This conversation they're having hurts.
Being told she's destroying him and seeing it for herself is more weight than her soul can withstand.
And when he stares her down and defiantly purchases two heels for her, she reminds herself that this is on him. He shouldn't be so stupid as to allow himself to go broke over her. He should have backed down. He needs to accept his place.
He won't.
Her gaze follows him out of the store and for the remainder of her shift, she feels ill and uneasy. Her manager asks her if she needs to go home, but she can't. If she goes home, he might follow her.
When her completes her shift, she clocks out, but her whole body feels leaden. She can't leave the back room because she doesn't know what to say to him, if she even wants to face him further.
She gives ground a little when she texts him.
Hinata: Uzumaki-kun. I'm married. I'm not interested. You have to leave me alone. You have to stop bothering me. I can't even leave the my place of work because I know you're out there.
He sends her a selfie. It's unsmiling and morose. She assumes he's setting the tone before he replies. He's always been a cheerful one. And emojis would be entirely inappropriate.
Naruto: one more night?
Hinata cusses under her breath as she reels away from her phone, clutched in disbelief.
Hinata: Why do you take my infidelity so lightly?!
Naruto: WHY DO U TAKE ME SO LIGHTLY?
Hinata: You think this is me taking you lightly?! I'm trapped because of you!
Naruto: UR TRAPPED BY UR SHITTY MARRIAGE
Hinata: Don't you dare insult my marriage ever again, young man.
Naruto: YOUNG MAN?! THE FUCK?!
Hinata: And just how narcissistic can you possibly be that you think my life is shitty if you're not in it!
Naruto: ITS NOT NARCISSISM IF WE R OBVIOUSLY COMPATIBLE
Hinata: Compatible? Based on what?
Naruto: It's innate Hinata.
He did not just use her first name!
Naruto: It's a gut feeling.
Naruto: You're just all stuck up in your brain where it feels safe.
Naruto: And it's scary how I make you stupid. But you know what? I make you stupid in a good way.
Hinata: You can't make me stupid.
Naruto: Come on out and let's find out, hm? Let's be retarded together.
Hinata: You can't say 'retarded'.
Naruto: Retarded.
Hinata folded over onto her lap, her brightly burning red face smothering to put itself out in her palms.
How?
Just how does he do this?!