Chapter Four: Dull Mornings and Strange Nights
AN: Tamahagane is a type of steel made in the Japanese tradition.
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Naruto sat quietly in the chair and fiddled with the buttons on his green jacket as though they demanded his complete attention—his patience was going fast. His mind raced untamed. His hands shook, palms slick with sweat, downcast blue eyes began to glaze over with a deluge of sweat coming down his forehead; he could not see a thing on his hands. His vision was lost to suspicions that fed upon his mind like cattle in the moors that enwreathed his house, in which his wife lived . . .
His thoughts kept coming to his house's threshold, and the woman that stood upon it in wait, often. It was true, he had never touched her in a way a lover would: he felt that it was . . . almost wrong. The few times he tried, it was to fulfill his parents' wishes for a son—an heir the families wanted. Naruto married her for it was everyone's wish. He did not love her, and he was sure as hell she felt the same.
If it were not true, she could have asked him to love her, to be intimate with her . . . she did not care about his needs. All she ever did was busy herself with her farm and paint small lamps for her sister's shop. He always came last. Thin lines creased his forehead in resentment, and he moved his shaking fingers through the sweat-soaked hair. He was just a dead-last to her!
Whenever he came home late at night, she would be crouched in the corner of the small storeroom behind the Kimono stand. A candle's dirty light passed through the night kimono's fabric and brightened the space she loved so much. There, Naruto would find her, nose buried in some book whilst she desperately tried to replicate the drawing patterns on thick homemade papers to create colourful lamps. Her hands were too unsure; they did not possess an artist's expert fingers. The patterns always ended up looking dreadful, as if created by a girl child's hands . . .
Naruto would try and coax her to come to bed, but she would refuse, looking repulsed. Then she would busy herself again, almost resolutely, with the old paint bottles—which smelt pungent—by her feet.
His features contorted, and he grabbed a fistful of yellow hair greased with grime and sweat, quelling his anger that had begun to burn into rage. She did not like him, at all . . . just like how this village threw his family aside over that daemon incident: his father was shamed, and he had left the Hokage seat in disgrace.
Sons bear the sins of fathers . . . Naruto had to bear the brunt of their hate. They looked down upon him, hated him for a faultless crime of birth. They talked as he passed by, and their unkind whispers wafted to his ears. The Men, whose hearts housed such loathing, cursed him that he even existed. He gritted his teeth, put his head between his knees, felt that fearful heart (of a boy) sing in his ears.
"You are not worthless, Naruto," the voice spoke in his mind, a noise in the clarion comfort of his breast's house and its gloom. It had a delicious ring to it, and it made all bones in his body dance better than a diabolical Devil's instrument. He was going crazy again!
His hands quivered, and he desperately tugged at his hair as if he was holding onto them for his dear life. His breaths left him quickly, and he opened his mouth wide to suck in air. "L-Leave me alone," he said as his voice wavered like a drunken man's, who limped along the lonely road under night's mantle (careful to hide away his shame).
Suddenly, glass bells clinked against the front door and fresh Sakura blossoms' fragrance snuck inside the room: it was Sakura! Her presence calmed the storm, and he was whole again—one man. No longer dulled by the chaos wrought by his fears, his joyous heat's beats sprang to life, thundering in his ears. If it was not for Sakura, he would have been lost to his own daemons long ago. Naruto loved her, and she, him . . . that was all that mattered!
Blood flushed in his face, and his cheeks burnt crimson. Even though he was well past his teenage, he still felt like a boy in her presence, a lovesick and naïve fool. There was thrill in their meetings, a rush of joy and lust; his marriage was destitute of things he felt for Sakura. She was the only one who made him reminisce about their days in the academy.
Sakura took off her slippers and walked into the living room. A broad smile disturbed her features when her eyes met his. He had been waiting for her. "Naruto, you came early?" she asked and put fresh flowers into the empty vase filled with clear water.
It was a habit of hers. She bought fresh flowers from Ino's shop daily after the team's training with Sasuke, just before the sun came up. They were Purple Lilies—Sasuke's favourite. Naruto did not know, and she had no intention of telling him. Naruto scratched his head and looked at the flowers quivering in the morning draft that came in through the half-open window.
"Are those purple lilies?" he asked, smiling. "Sasuke likes 'em, too."
"Really?" she asked, feigning surprise. "They are pretty flowers—I guess. A lot of people buy them." She let out a soft laugh and arranged the stems a bit absentmindedly.
"Yeah," Naruto leant back. "I wanted to talk to you about somethin'."
Sakura turned around, her heart racing. Sasuke could not have said something to him? Her mouth went dry as old scroll-paper, but she kept up the pretense of mild surprise. "What is it?" she asked slowly, not letting her voice get overwhelmed by emotions.
Naruto dropped his blue eyes to the wooden floor. "It's Hinata," he sighed out, "I think . . . I think she has a lover . . . "
Sakura closed her eyes and let out a loud breath, relieved. "Hinata?" she asked and looked at him intently.
Slowly, he lifted his blue eyes and met her green ones that always calmed his senses. "Sasuke . . ." he trailed off, averting her gaze and missing the traces of terror in her eyes, " . . . he thinks she might look for one 'cause I don't go near her. Can you imagine the mess?" Then he clenched his hands, distraught, lost.
"Hinata—does she?" Sakura asked, surprised.
"I don't think she knows 'bout us—'bout any of this. But Sasuke thinks I don't give her enough time, so she might—" he broke off again and clenched the fingers of his right hand tighter and tighter, "—resort to an affair. It's only fair, no?" He looked up and grimaced as though he was in pain, blue eyes deepening with sorrow and anger. "I'm not kind to her. I asked father to end this, but—but he's so stubborn. It's not like it even matters what I say . . . " He turned his head away and gazed out of the window. She thought he wanted to say more, but he was silent.
Sakura did not know what to say. A part of her felt Sasuke's words forever bruise her ego; and a part, strange. Were they not guilty of this, too? Sasuke was hinting at the worst possible scenario for Naruto. This would only put more burden on his father's sullied name; but she needed him now, more than ever. He would not understand . . .
She walked to him and planted herself on the sofa by his side. She clamped her hand on his shoulder and squeezed. "I'm sure Sasuke was joking," Sakura assured, looking at his bowed head, a smile on her face. "You know how he likes to think he's always right. Hinata would never do this. You know how her family is."
Naruto looked up at her and schooled his tense countenance into a calm expression. "You're right," he breathed out, looking sure of himself, "Sasuke can be quite the prick sometimes. He's just trying to scare me." Then he let out a hearty laugh and breathed in the fresh morning air, deeply.
"You always take his words to heart," she said, ruffled his hair playfully, and kissed him on the tip of his freckle-covered nose. "You must be hungry. I was about to make rice-balls. We have to get ready for the long mission today. You haven't forgotten about that, have you? Sasuke said to come to his office before seven a.m., and it's already six."
Naruto's head snapped in the direction of the wall-clock. Then he nodded and created a soft smile in agreement.
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Warm sunrays were cast over the forest's vastness in the first morning hours. Mist was gone—air, cool. There was a disordered cacophony of rowdy masses at the gates of Konoha: refugees; but he had left them behind to attend to his own business.
Sasuke stood on Naruto's doorstep now. His eyes wandered off into the distance, and he looked at a portion of moors that stood out: tall grass was cut off close by the roots and cultivated to yield crops. Sun was going above the horizon, sloshing red over grey. He had to get to his office before the clock struck seven.
In his hand was a scroll he received from Itachi last night. He fisted his hand and rapped on the thick wooden door—this time more forcefully. Something told him Naruto never came home last night. It seemed that luck was on his side. He wanted to discuss the matter alone with Hinata and having Naruto around would have only spurred him on to say angry nonsense.
A cool puff of air threw the crystals against the door, and they clinked loudly. He looked through the crystals worn thin by having been left outside for so long. Just beyond their dirtied surface was Hinata's silhouette. He leant his head to one side and found her emerging from behind the trees. She had a bucket in one hand and a sickle in the other.
Sasuke almost felt sorry for her ordeal. When she lifted her downcast eyes, she froze. Warmth whipped through her and kissed her pale cheeks; and her gaze beheld him without straying. She put down the bucket and sickle and toddled across the muddy field like a lost child.
"S-Sasuke-Sama," Hinata spoke, a bit breathlessly, "Naruto isn't here." She looked away, embarrassed.
"Good," Sasuke said and looked down to her hands caked with bits of grass and mud, "I wanted to talk to you . . . alone."
Hinata's head snapped up in shock, and her whole face turned red this time. "T-Talk to me?" she asked with hesitation.
"Yes," he said and adjusted the tall collar of his Jōnin Jacket. "I have to get to the office by seven, so I suggest you invite me inside to discuss this." He gave her a lopsided smile.
Hurriedly, and with apparent anxiety, she moved around him and nervously fumbled with the door latch before sliding it open. Sasuke stepped inside and smelt the fresh aroma of rice-balls sitting on the table untouched. She had prepared them for Naruto. "This way." She gestured Sasuke to the living room right across the foyer.
"It's all right," he said and turned around to face her as she closed the door behind them. "We can discuss it here."
"What do you want to talk about?" she asked and put her hand to her breast. Her heart was racing—something did not feel right.
"I have received a letter of inquiry this morning," he began, carefully opening the scroll in his hand, "it's about your clan's involvement in a conspiracy taking place in the Mist Village."
Hinata's eyes popped out in fear; her mouth fell open but nothing came out. Surely, he was mistaken?
"One of the assistants of the current Mizukage has a Byakugan as his left eye. I know for sure that the eyes seal themselves as soon as any member of the Branch Family dies. How did he come to have a Head Clan's Byakugan in his possession?" he asked and cast her an accusatory look.
Red flew from her face, and she turned deathly pale. She did not know what to say. "I . . . I don't know," she whispered and hung her head in shame.
"I could've conducted the investigation myself, but being the daughter of the clan's Head, I wanted to ask you first," he said, holding his gaze. "I don't want to bring this matter out into the open, considering your clan's present circumstances."
Hinata looked up, her lower lip trembling. Her eyes left the sharp sword on his back and found his exceedingly handsome face, which was shrouded by the last remaining shadows of a night that sought escape—till its fall. He was still clad in his office clothes, and the letter in his hand was open; and right at its end was an Anbu stamp from his clan's acting Head to conduct an investigation into the matter.
"I know my clan isn't as prestigious as yours, nor are we that wealthy or influential, but—" she stopped and struggled to hold back tears of shame, "—w-we have our pride! I-I can assure you, it's impossible that my clan is in any—any way involved in the matter."
"I could take your word for it and even believe it word for word," Sasuke said and rolled up the letter, "but the council won't. The only reason I came here is for you to arrange a meeting with your father. Tell him I know about the matter and ask him to gather some solid evidence in his defence."
"I could ask Naruto to help me. Minato-Sama might help—"
"Minato relinquished his seat over the daemon vessel mess, and Naruto?" he scoffed and took a long intake of breath, "he's too busy with Sakura, but I'm sure you knew that already. There's no use playing dumb anymore."
"Sasuke-Sama!" Hinata protested, raising her voice. "I-It's a private matter. You shouldn't interfere!"
"He's getting slack," he said through clenched teeth. "It is my business, Hyūga Hinata." In his eyes red irritation sparked, and his features slightly twisted to show his discontent.
Hinata fell back against the door like paper dolls in a breeze, her whole body shuddering with defeat—Naruto would be the death of her. She had not accepted for so long that Naruto discarded her like a toy for a better one.
"It's about time you accepted your clan's place in Konoha and your own in Naruto's family. Minato only used you to wash away the stain from his own reputation."
"You—you're wrong," her words tumbled out from her lips. "Naruto may have left me, but he isn't that heartless. He won't let his father do that. And my clan is still—it's still respected."
Sasuke towered over her and placed his hand on the door behind her. "It is, but if they don't come clean, you know where this will lead. Uzumaki and Namikaze will take Hyūga down to the depths of dishonour, painting them as criminals. The sooner you realise this, the better." His warm breath fanned out across her features, feathery and light.
"Why are you telling me this?" she finally asked and looked up to locate solace in his red eyes. They were coals in the hearth: warm and comforting. Why was he changing that now?
"I'm telling you this—" Sasuke broke off and narrowed his red eyes, "—to make you understand the gravity of the situation." And, suddenly, he smiled, his face growing so mischievous. She looked back, and her heart tripped with confusion.
"I'll help you," he whispered, "just make sure you give your father my message. He would know what to do. Be a good girl and do as I say." He backed away and opened the door to let the cold air in.
The cool draft tickled Hinata's bosom. She heard the door close but did not move to look his away. Finally, her eyes darted around the room and found the letter he had left on the shoe-rack for her . . .
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Sasuke sat on the tatami-mat spread over the wooden floor. It was getting dark, and a large shadow on the ceiling was gradually making its way down to the floor. He turned his red eyes to the window and watched smoke come out from the chimney of an infirmary, located at the heart of Konoha's Headquarters.
Cold winds were blowing inland, so the furnace was kept hot with fresh coal from the mountains to the south, to keep the sick and wounded warm. Sakura was in charge of the ward that fell under his command. One of his injured men was lying under sheets. He was a Rookie medic who nearly got himself killed trying to shield another man.
That gave him an opportunity to send Neji off for an investigation. It was a surprise attack during a regular training session—the attacker fled after throwing few bombs filled with poisonous gas at the team. They were lucky Neji was around; otherwise, he would have lost his entire team. Sakura was leading the Medic Team . . . Lord Sage, his life was becoming too hard!
He skittered his eyes across the room and paused them on Hinata's fingers, which fumbled quite pointlessly with a single button on the obi, and then her father who was looking intently at the scroll Sasuke had brought for this clandestine meeting. Two unknown Hyūga Shinobis sat behind the two, their faces shrouded by evening.
The grim atmosphere was permeable to the noise from outside. Hiashi's usually calm and grey Byakugan eyes, which desperately approached white, were stern, and a harsh frown affected his smooth forehead. Sasuke could see smooth sweat-lines on his cheek that glistened in the candle's light that flickered. He did not look pleased nor did he seem confident.
Sasuke's lips were sealed. He did not know why he even intervened so soon. Now was not the time; but he had to do something for Neji. He was his best man. If Neji was to get tangled in a political conspiracy—no matter how paper-thin it was for now—it would surely mess up the repute of his Clan and his team.
So he waited and listened to the clock's teasing ticks and watched the shadows play round the room, underneath the sparse light from few waning candles. Soon, a cascade of questions would follow this Letter of Inquiry, and then he would have to play the role of a reconciler. It was irksome and time-consuming, but he had to avert this crisis . . . for now.
Shame was something he always feared. Even the thought of it made his skin crawl and bones shudder like a dry old leaf in winter, sapped of its vigour and autumn's juice. Shame—something he never wanted to face . . . or feel. His ears pricked up, and he wrinkled his nose like a cunning and wild fox. The clouds overhead had begun to let go of rain, and an earthy smell rushed into the large room as first drops of rain, a sign of coming Autumn, came down.
Sasuke brought his gaze back to Hiashi who had just rolled up the scroll and stretched his arm to place it on the low table between them. Sasuke's cup was still untouched, and it seemed that the evening weather had made the tea cold. Hiashi picked up his own cup to take a noiseless little sip. His eyes tried to mask the seriousness of the situation, but to Sasuke's eyes, his helplessness was naked.
"I," Hiashi began, his eyes glowing with their nigh-white colour, "I thank the Uchiha clan for giving us a chance to explain ourselves. We will forever be indebted to you." He placed the cup back on the table, and as a forced gesture of formality, slowly bent his head down.
"The Uchiha Elders are unaware of this," Sasuke said and watched the subtle change in Hiashi's features crumple and crack that calm mask with force.
"What do you mean?" Hiashi asked, uncertain where the young Uchiha prodigy was taking the matter.
Thunder created trouble in the sky, and a sudden blast of wind blew out the candles; but it could not subdue the flames burning with a new light in Sasuke's eyes. Hinata did not require Byakugan to see them: they were visible from a few feet away, burning like coals. She could have sworn they looked different than usual—more intense, almost alive!
Sasuke moved his hand across his face to wipe away stray rain droplets. "I didn't want this issue to escalate, so I decided to investigate the matter myself. Once the matter reaches Root, it'll be out of my hands. I need you to present something convincing to stall the matter—or bury it altogether. You know what I mean, don't you?" he said and leant forward on his left knee.
Hiashi narrowed his eyes on Sasuke and folded his arms across his breast. "I have taken the corpse out of the grave, and the seal records have been brought out of the storage, as well," he said and lowered his eyes to the frayed parts of the tatami-mat: it was old compared to the new and beautiful wooden table, the cabinet in the corner, and the newly dug well in the back garden. Even the bonsai trees were new. He felt . . . so ashamed of that little old part of the mat.
"Can I see the sealing records?" Sasuke asked and stretched out his hand. His fingertips trembled slightly in the sudden rain-spray. He turned his head to the window, forcefully opened by the wind. Then he squeezed his right eye shut when rain splashed the side of his face and neck.
Hiashi looked livid that the servants were still sitting, looking intently at Sasuke's eyes for some strange reason. "Why are you two sitting comfortably?" he said in a heavy voice, and they scrambled to their feet to close the wooden window that was colliding repeatedly into the fragile window-pane.
Sasuke dried his face on his sleeve and lit up the candles with a small Katon Jutsu. "It comes in handy when we're out of light supplies during training—or when such circumstances are simulated," he explained to Hiashi, looking at the puddle of water under the window. "I try my best to keep my team in form. It's tough being a Squad Captain, and Neji is an invaluable asset. You must understand, I can't lose him to a baseless acquisition. Unless I don't see anything of value here, I won't take this matter to the higher-ups."
Sasuke's assurance made Hiashi heave a long sigh. He seemed relieved that the matter was under control . . . for now. He closed his eyes for a moment in thought and opened them to meet Sasuke's gaze. The young man's solid mask terrified him a little. "I understand," he sighed out with an air of relief and stood up. "Please, this way." He gestured, with an airy sort of grace.
Sasuke got to his feet and adjusted the handle of a long and strange looking Kunai that rested in a holster, tied down to his right thigh: it was made from Tamahagane, with gold carved into it. White and red Uchiha markings were etched in its sharp edge on both sides. It was a gift from Itachi when he got selected as an Espionage Squad Captain about two years ago. He never used it, but kept it as a good-luck charm from his brother.
Hinata walked ahead at a slow pace and held an old white lantern in her hands. The corridor was narrow, and dozens of scrolls were hung on the walls. Their paints had faded away—they looked dull now.
"The lights are out because of the storm," Hiashi explained and moved his head round to look at the light bulbs screwed inside traditional lanterns. They were out.
The corridor was wide enough for two people to walk side by side; but Sasuke kept his distance. He scrunched his fingers together and placed them gently on the holster. It was foolish to trust this man. He could be involved in that conspiracy by aiding the new Mizukage.
Sasuke narrowed his eyes to tiny pinpricks of red, walking slowly behind them inside the shadows cast by their bodies that were black as coals. The light from the lantern was cut into two beams, landing on each side of the corridor, hitting the old Sumi-e scroll paintings on the walls. His desultory mind jumped from Root's involvement in the matter to the possible truth behind Hiashi and Hinata's justifications.
He was already closing in on Danzō and his involvement in his clan's Police Branch massacre. He just needed a little push, and the man's head was his. He would revel in the feeling from seeing his weary face frozen in agony on a stick. It was a joy he so wanted to relish. Sasuke tightened his hold on the hilt, and his eyes formed the patterns of Eternal Mangekyō Sharingan's never-ending light.
Stopping before a large door, Hinata released a long breath and slid it open. A slight putrid smell escaped the room. This was where they probably kept the bodies before burial. It should have been filled with smells of incense and white wreaths of smoke, but the freshly dug body's odour was overpowering. Few tendrils of white reached out of the room and disappeared quickly in the air that relented less in cold weathers.
"This way," Hiashi said and gestured Sasuke to step inside the room.
Sasuke took in a large intake of breath, as if he was readying himself for a plunge, and stepped inside. The room was fairly large: scrolls filled the large cabinets in the corners, and incense burnt around the body draped with a white cloth. He was unsure what he would see on a man dead for more than a decade. This was hopeless . . .
Two Medic-Nins stood close to the corpse's head. It appeared they had tried their best to rejuvenate the body to an extent that it was, at least, recognisable. It took a while for ninjas' bodies to rot: the chakra in the system kept the body fresh for a couple of years before it fell prey to Nature's mechanisms. If the chakra was potent, the decaying process was much slower. It was a gift for the dead who would not care what became of their bodies, which had no mind nor soul.
Sasuke turned his eyes to Hiashi. "Why didn't you cremate this man?" he asked and pulled away the cloth to gaze at the man's grey face. Dark veins were bulging out in his face and neck: death, somehow, repulsed him.
Hiashi bent his head a little. "It was his family's request," he replied and pushed his hands into his long sleeves again. Next to him, Hinata stood tight-lipped, still holding the lantern in her small hands.
Sasuke pulled a scroll out of his pocket and handed it over to one of the medic-nins. They were from his own clan, men he could trust. Both of them were half-Uchihas by blood and never developed Sharingans, so they were put into the Medic Squad instead. They were good at their duties; and he was hoping that, one of these days when he would oust Sakura (and that day was not far!), he would put one of his own in charge of the small medic team in his Squad.
The medic-nin already had another scroll spread open in front him. He opened the scroll Sasuke gave him and placed it next to the other one. Then he made several hand-seals and analysed the results from the residual chakra glowing on the man's forehead.
Rolling up the scroll, he raised his head to look at Sasuke. "It's the same man, Sasuke-Sama," he began and touched the body's head to stop the chakra flow. "I just analysed the Chakra and DNA. It appears that he did belong to the Branch family, but a seal was not printed on his forehead."
"Good. Take everything with you and head back to my home-office," Sasuke said and rubbed at his chin—something in the air made his skin itch. The men bowed before him, rolled up their scrolls, and left silently. "Why didn't you place a sealing-mark on this man?"
Hiashi remained silent for a few moments to gather his wits. "It was my father's decision. I am unaware of the reasons behind it," he said and brought his attention to Sasuke's eyes that were focused on the man's frozen face. He was thinking about something, and it was beginning to upset the Hyūga clan's leader. "He was my father's nephew. Perhaps he grew soft."
"Perhaps," Sasuke said with a smile, "who knows—I'm not taking this matter to any higher-ups, but I'll take Nii-Sama into confidence. He might know something about your father's decision. It was a time of war, after all.
"Consider this matter dismissed from my end, but it isn't completely out of the way yet. You should try and look closely into your clan's matters during the previous Great War. It'd benefit you more than me." He moved his hand and covered the man's naked face again, hiding it from the living.
"I cannot thank you enough," Hiashi said with utmost gratitude. His face looked tired. The accusation had taken such a toll on him overnight.
"Hinata," Sasuke said, diverting his attention to her, "you should come with me. Naruto might be back already. I don't want him to know about this. It's dark outside, and it's dangerous to go alone through the woods."
"F-Father, I—" Hinata stuttered in a girl-ish voice and placed the lantern on the table, "—I should head back now."
Hiashi placed his hand on his daughter's head. He could see how the rosy colour in her youthful cheeks had faded a little. He did not want to press her, but he was sure she was not happy. He watched her with a troubled countenance as she shyly followed Sasuke out of the room. He looked at the waning candle that dribbled wax on the white cloth. Half of its wick was under the melted wax, subduing the light's intensity. Somehow, it reminded him of his daughter . . .
Sasuke and Hinata walked on the trail, strewn with yellow leaves, to her home. For the first time since her marriage, she realised how far her house was from her father's. She looked at her feet and the slippers dirtied by mud. Rain had almost stopped, but a few drops still fell down upon them from the leaves overhead. It appeared that the wind had slackened off, as well, and rain was letting up.
Sasuke walked quietly beside her. In one hand, he carried a strong flame. The light radiating from it hit the trail ahead, and she could see very clearly now. Her feet were getting numb as, unlike Sasuke, her toes were muddy and wet; but she did not complain. He had lent them a helping hand, even if it was because of Neji, and she was grateful.
Finally, after walking in silence for quite some time, her house came into view. The overgrown grass on the field, and the portion she had cultivated, swayed in slow wind under the moonlights. The lights were on, but she was sure Naruto was not home. It was an instinct she had developed over the years: it never failed her.
They walked on the twisting trail and reached the front door. Sasuke took out the letter of inquiry and changed his eyes to a different pattern. Hinata watched in amazement as he opened his left eye wide. Blood trailed down the eye, and, before she could even blink, a little black flame converged on the scroll and it turned to ash there and then. It happened so fast!
"The letter of Inquiry is gone," Sasuke said, his voice breaking into her thoughts. "That solves one thing. Keep this a secret from Naruto. Don't tell him anything. Don't make him think there's anything wrong with your clan. He's a fool. Do you understand?"
Hinata nodded absentmindedly. He looked at her, huffed out a short breath, and mumbled, "Nii-Sama would kill me . . . "
And then he walked away from her at a slow pace. He disappeared behind the woods—just like he always did—and left her standing outside the door. Naruto was still not home. It was starting to feel like a habit . . .
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