Chapter Six: Spring in Autumn
Warning: (Sexual and Gallows) Humour.
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Morning had yet to break apart the night completely when Sasuke and his team reached Mist's borders. Owls hooted and birds trilled in trees behind the dense leaves, their low slanting branches touching one of the brooks that ran out of the village. Sasuke dropped his gaze and looked about his feet. The mist was quite thick and seemed to spread out from around his sandals.
He turned on his Sharingan and scanned the area: three people stood vigilant at the gates, and one of them had Byakugan in his left eye. Sasuke cracked his cold knuckles and made his way to the gate. The man who had his Byakugan out and ready immediately recognised the red in Sasuke's eyes. The man walked beyond the safe boundary of the gate, flanked with two clear streams on both sides, and came into view, breaking the mist thickening about him.
"Welcome, Sasuke-Sama," he said and bowed. His eyes wandered slightly to gaze at the crinkles around Hinata's white eyes and back again to look at Sasuke's. "I hope your journey was comfortable. I'm Ao."
"It was as comfortable as it could've been given the rising mist," Sasuke said and took out a scroll from his pocket. "Take this to the Mizukage. Everything is arranged?" He shoved his hands into his pockets; it was cold out here.
"Yes," Ao said and looked over his shoulder. He threw the scroll over to a much younger man who carried a very large sword on his back. It was hard to imagine that man standing stiff on two thin legs, but he made a long leap and disappeared out of sight—an impossible feat for a man of his short stature. "I've arranged the rooms for your stay and the breakfast. It would be—"
"No need," Sasuke interrupted, "most of my squad members would stay outside the village for everyone's safety. Matters have been quite delicate with other villages. It's in everyone's interest if things went along smoothly here." He blinked and turned off his Sharingan—now his eyes looked murky black in the mist.
"I understand," Ao said, gazing at the other members and narrowing his eyes. He pulled the patch over the eye that had the stolen Byakugan and looked at Sasuke. "I'll arrange for tents and food for the rest of your team."
Sasuke turned around. "Neji, you stay behind with Sakura and the rest. I'll send Hinata out if I need anyone else," he ordered and moved his eyes over everyone. He stopped them momentarily on Sakura's pink face. It seemed as though she had not forgiven him for his sharp tongue. Her face worked with anger; it was accustomed to such mechanisms. He created a small, playful smile on his face. Leaving them behind, he followed Ao into the mist with Hinata.
His eyes had not deceived him; the village was beautiful: bubbling brooks and streams moved over slick and mossy stones stuck deep in the bed; an assortment of nature's watery tricks made everything sound musical; sun was sluggishly climbing up to the horizon (its rays shimmered on twisting streams, so much so, that every droplet danced like pearls); even the mist shone as it broke away under the assault of the rising sun.
They stopped at the open iron-gate of a large house. Two burly guards stood outside the large double door. "These are your guestrooms," Ao said and gestured the guard to open the heavy door. "I've arranged for breakfast and warm water. The other rooms are still available if any other member of your team decides to stay here."
Sasuke looked up at the Kage's office: it overlooked the entire village and stood tall between two waterfalls. Dense fog piled up at its pillars—it looked as if it was floating over clouds.
"Time of meeting?" Sasuke asked, keeping the fatigue buried under his calm countenance. "We need to get it out of the way as soon as possible before we can discuss the Chūnin exams."
"It's all been arranged. I'll send over Chōjūrō at noon. He'll escort you to the Mizukage's office," Ao explained and adjusted his thick patch as if revealing it before a Hyūga could be taken as a sign of shame.
Sasuke did not say anything and made his way inside the house; Hinata walked behind him. The inside was spacious and beautiful—warm and cozy. This house must have been used for political guests. Hinata scanned the entire area for anything unusual but found nothing. "Sasuke-Sama, I've . . . " she whispered, puffing from the long haul to this house, " . . . t-there's nothing here."
Sasuke raised his hand to silence her. "Go and rest. I think they'll call us by noon," he said and left her standing there in the hallway. One of the guards stood outside his room. He stepped inside and closed the sliding door. It was a warm room, large and lavishly decorated. Sasuke felt as though he was transported to his family house in the northern part of the Fire Country.
A traditional water-colour painting hung inside the alcove, and a warm brazier was placed on a beautiful mat. He looked over to the paper-screen and sunlight spreading shadows of trees on the wooden walls. A large breakfast was set out on a low table right next to the sunken fireplace. A plume of mist rose from the pot's mouth—the tea was still warm.
Sasuke closed his eyes and sat down on the cushion. It would be quite a while before the Mizukage would call him for the meeting. These were just the perks of being a dictator of the village. He smiled to himself and poured out tea.
Noon came quite fast; sun hung low over the village. Most of the mist was gone and left behind little traces of white that still hovered by the buildings. Sasuke sat inside the Mizukage's personal office, with Hinata. The room was large and opened into a traditional garden. A well stood in the tall grass. Whenever wind blew, a whistling sound escaped its mouth. It led somewhere, or, perhaps, it was empty? He could not say for sure—it was not in good shape due to years of inattention.
Voices travelled into the sitting room, and a moment later, a woman in a blue dress made her way into the room. She had long red hair and intense eyes—which possessed the colour of neem's young leaves. She was young (around early to mid-thirties, he imagined) and quite pleasing to the eyes. Sasuke stood up when she looked at him with her mischievous eyes.
"Ah, Uchiha Sasuke," she said with a musical lilt to her voice. "You of the Uchiha have such handsome faces." She laughed and tapped her finger on the painted lips. She was being needlessly flirtatious.
Her comment was strange for an official, but Sasuke managed a smile in reply. "Your village is beautiful," he said and glanced at the sparse mist's drape over the straggling town that spread out north where a river began.
"Perhaps we should keep you here, as well, because I do not think this village is as beautiful as you," she said in a playful voice, eliciting a little laugh from Sasuke and a frown from Hinata.
Next to her, Ao and Chōjūrō looked quite embarrassed by their Kage's brazen attempts at flirting with an official guest. Ao cleared his throat loudly and spoke, "Mei-Sama, this man is here to discuss that grave Hyūga matter."
"Do not interrupt—I am aware," she said sternly with a wave of her hand and sat down on the fluffed out cushion. Seeing her knit forehead, Ao bit his own tongue and silenced himself. It was for the best as Mei's temper flowed faster from her pretty mouth than Lava.
"So the Hyūga matter? You do not think it is a little too late to dig up old skeletons, Sasuke-Kun?" She licked her lips and wiped away the small lipstick smudge that wandered just outside her lips. She was . . . a kittenish woman.
"Old Skeletons . . ." Sasuke repeated and settled himself down opposite Mei. "Was this matter handled by Yagura-Sama?" At his question, blush faded from her face. She looked away for a fleeting moment and then returned her gaze to his face again, looking impatient.
"Yagura-Sama . . ." she paused and gathered her courage to speak, ". . . he was made a Mizukage at a very young age. Many poor decisions came from being sidelined as a young man that housed the daemonic essence. I am sure this matter is no secret to Konoha that we meddled with it, as well." She cupped her chin, thinking over what to say next on this delicate matter.
Sasuke's lips were sealed tight. He listened intently. Could it be that Root was involved in this matter, too? It was too early to tighten the noose around Danzō's neck. He needed more, so he stayed quiet in hopes of finding something from Mei as words, delicate words, tumbled from her lips.
"During war," Mei continued and kept her gaze fixed on Sasuke, "many died, and to shore up our defenses, we took what we could from scenes of carnage. That Byakugan was one such gift left in the wake of the last Great War. Konoha has many, too." A ghostly smile played about her lips as she waited for Sasuke to say something.
"Are you justifying something that could escalate into a political conspiracy and spark an unwanted war between the two Villages?" Sasuke asked, and his expression hardened at the riddle weaved by her.
"Of course not," she said quickly and placed her hand on the low table in front of her. "I am telling you the reason why the eye was even kept. There is nothing suspicious behind it. Your officials worry without a reason."
"Someone like me can't afford reasons that border on lofty ideals no matter how much I want it. All of us are tethered to systems—even you," Sasuke said and immediately narrowed his eyes. "All I need is some proof that the Clan from my village was never involved. I don't see any reason to lend my ears to your political matters. It'd only make matters worse. I doubt even you want that."
"Uchiha Sasuke," Ao broke in with a harsh accent, "you're speaking to the Mizukage. Show some—"
"It is all right," Mei said, silencing him. "You are honest and flexible. I love lissome men. I will help you, but on one condition," she stopped and ran her teeth across her lower lip and put up one finger, "you will not ask for any matter concerning the exploits of war that go beyond Ao's prized possession. They do not concern you as you said yourself. You can only concern yourself with proving the Hyūga Clan's innocence. Do we have a deal?"
"Your conditions are steep," Sasuke said in a low voice, thinking. If she did not say anything else, there was little room to get something out of her about Root. It was a dead end—for now. "But it seems like a fair bargain. As long as the Clan is saved from shame, the rest doesn't concern me."
"Then it is settled," Mei said and created a smile that was somewhere between sure and bold. "You two can stay here in my house to see documents from the previous Great War, and the rest of your team can stay in the other house. We have many guard shinobis that prowl at night. You need not worry about unwanted unpleasantness."
Sasuke nodded and got to his feet when Mei stood up. "I have some official matters to attend. I suggest you wait till nightfall for anything else on the matter. You are aware that very few people know about this situation. I do not want this to be a public affair. I am sure you must have treated it in the same manner."
"It was the wish of the Clan's head. I'm just honouring it," Sasuke said and turned his eyes just a little to look at Hinata who was twiddling her thumbs—again . . .
Mei smiled and left the sitting room with her guards. Sasuke turned on his Sharingan to look through the walls. It was safe for them to talk. "Make sure you go through everything thoroughly. We won't get another chance. Make this count," he whispered and walked out of the sitting room.
Hinata's eyes followed his every step till they could no more. She looked outside at the garden and then lifted her gaze skyward. Sun was red in the sky. It was strange how she was thrown in the midst of this all. What if nothing came out of this meeting? Her heart skipped several beats, and she felt tears on her cheeks. She stifled a sob and clutched at her breast . . . the thought pained her.
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Hinata blinked and stared at the scrolls with tired eyes. There was a deep stoop to her back as she examined a large pile of official scrolls arranged before her: exploits of war, the obituaries, the number of lost men; the equipment used; the medics who aided in many ways—it was all here. The three candles on the table before her waned, their flames rising high on the blackened wicks. She would have to change them again soon.
She inhaled sharply, feeling helpless. She had rummaged and rifled through more than half of them. Sasuke helped decipher most of the important scrolls written on political matters concerning the Byakugan. She checked all of them word for word—the dates, the people killed, and the people who died in her Clan at the hands of Mist shinobi. Her precious clan . . . an emptiness that engulfed her. This was when her Clan lost its strength and, perhaps, even its honour.
Hinata's nimble fingers moved over each line of another long scroll spread out on the large table. She shifted in the chair, her legs dangling over the floor; she was not that tall a woman. There was a strange insignia next to the Byakugan symbol on the scroll she was reading now. She did not recognise it. Perhaps it was something the Mist Village's coders used for secret messages.
A tall shadow loomed from behind, and she instinctively turned her head to look over her shoulder. It was Sasuke. He stepped into the candles' light; half of his face was covered by the room's overwhelming darkness. He looked at the sky beyond the window and then steered his gaze towards the clock. Then his hazy lips moved to speak: "you are still here?"
Hinata looked ahead and rolled up the scroll. She had read through it. "I—" she fumbled for words as usual and held the scroll firmly between her hands, "—I w-was going through this one, Sasuke-Sama. It's got this strange symbol I don't recognise. D-Do you know what it is?" She stretched her arm and gave the scroll to Sasuke.
Sasuke unrolled it, not caring that the long paper fell down to his feet. He ran his eyes quickly over the page and caught sight of the symbol. A familiar look of realisation flickered in his eyes before it disappeared. He rolled it up again and gazed down at Hinata. "I don't think it's of any concern. You can check the rest tomorrow," he said and threw the scroll on the pile that lost its shape as some of them fell down to the floor. "I'll call in Yuu. He'll copy the important ones. If necessary, Neji can—"
"No," Hinata cut him off in a loud voice, quickly getting to her feet. "Don't tell anything to Neji-Nii. He—he shouldn't k-know anything about this. Please, I-I beg of you." She clasped her hands together and hunched her shoulders pleadingly.
A few thin lines momentarily creased Sasuke's forehead. He kneaded his brow silently for a few fleeting moments and then opened his deep black eyes to meet hers again. His entire appearance had marked itself permanently in her eyes: the eyes, the face, the limbs—they made desires reach into her heart. She remembered again . . . in the darkness of many nights, the burning coals, and the wild, young blood in her began to simmer without shame.
"Look," he began in a mellow voice and placed his hand on the table, "I understand you don't want Neji to know anything about his family's involvement, but if this escalates, Neji and everyone in your clan would be shamed. You should understand that. I don't want Neji in this mess, but if it can't be handled by me alone, I'd have no choice but to take him into confidence. This isn't a game, Hinata."
That sudden rise in desire went out quickly. Hinata lifted her eyes a little, peering through her hair, head bowed. She did not want him to see her face that was streaming with tears. She remained quiet and fought back the sobs and nodded slowly when she felt that he was looking at her to say something in response.
"Take these scrolls to your room. Never mind," Sasuke said and shook his head, "I'll ask Yuu to carry them for you. Sleep tight—don't let anyone bite." He pushed his hands into his pockets and left the room. The large door remained open, its steel catching the full moon's light—it was a beautiful night!
Hinata wiped her face on her sleeves and gestured Yuu to take the scrolls to the room upstairs. He grabbed all the important ones, curled his arms around them, and made his way out. She was staying there for the night, but she wanted to meet Naruto. Maybe . . . maybe he would sleep in the same bed with her tonight (the way husband and wife did?). He had been training tirelessly for the whole day.
She looked at the clock hanging on the wall in front: it was just past one a.m. An optimistic smile forced itself upon her lips, and she ran out from the room. She was being a fool. She strode past the front door, playfully jumped over the large stones that made the pathway, stepped onto the small bridge over a stream. Naruto was standing there, his elbows on the handrails whilst he looked down to the clear water just below the bridge.
Holding her breath, she took slow steps over to him. The wooden bridge creaked under her timid steps. She put her hand on the cold handrail and looked at Naruto's face: he was lost in thought, staring down into the darkness hanging over the water beneath them. The lamppost close to them flickered, and a swarm of insects flew round it; its light had grown weak.
The wind was light, and she could only hear a whispery shush of leaves now. She moved her white hand a little closer and tilted her head to look into his blue eyes, which gazed into the empty space before him.
"N-Naruto-Kun, are you all right?" she asked and watched as he turned with a start; a grin broke out on his sober face, and he scratched his head the way he always did when he was nervous.
"What're you doing out here?" he asked and patted her head twice as though she was a child. "It's cold out here. Look at the mist—it's rising. I can't even see my own hand!" He raised his hand, waved it a little, breaking the mist into a zig-zag pattern.
She put her hand to her breast and her heart fluttered. A blush appeared on her white cheeks, and she turned her head a little to hide her shyness. "I-I came to check up on you," she said and lowered her eyes to look at the clear water, too.
Naruto took in a loud intake of breath, puffed out his breast, and exhaled loudly. Beneath the broken light of the lamp, she saw his blue eyes so clearly. He had such deep ocean-blue eyes. It brought out a different kind of feeling from her. Sasuke's eyes were dark, foreboding, distant—almost sinister, almost bewitching. They drew such curiosity out of the other to peel away veils of pretend-play from them. She did not think she was ever successful. His eyes were so beautiful and deliciously seductive, but they were also so cold and dangerous—they were a lure to draw someone in . . .
Naruto was different. His eyes were warm. He was not a good looking man, but she loved him for he was a thoughtless, blundering man full of hope. He was almost twenty-five but still innocent as little boys. She remembered Sasuke often mocked him for being too naïve when he came by their house. Naruto would only laugh in response. He was a simple man and he had simple dreams. Hinata clenched the fingers of her right hand—his dreams simply did not have enough room for her. Unlucky . . .
"I came to talk to Sasuke," he said, breaking into her thoughts, "but Ao said he had already gone to bed. So I guess—I guess, I came here. I just wanted to get a little fresh air." He raised his hand and took a whiff from a Sakura flower, held delicately between his thumb and forefinger. He breathed in deep and closed his eyes as he relished the smell of the delicate petals.
Turning to her, his eyes twinkled in the light. There was a broad smile on his face. He looked happy now. That flower calmed his senses. He did not seem to see the shock appear on her face. "I'll see you tomorrow, Hinata," he said, still smiling, and walked away from her.
He took a few slow steps, and darkness swallowed him. The light from the lamp was not strong and bright enough to cut down the fog that was dark as ink clouds in water. Hinata pulled her eyes away. She had no desire to turn on her Byakugan to look at him and see if he really was as naïve and innocent as Sasuke believed him to be.
She clamped her lips together and swallowed the sob growing painfully in her throat. She knew he did not love her, but to see him carry around the flower that constantly reminded him of her was a dagger through her heart. There was nothing left to see. She put her hand over her mouth, eyes burning, and, before she knew it, she was running up the stone pathway to the house on the cliff.
Whilst running, Hinata slipped and grazed her knee badly. Blood came out of the broken skin. It burnt, but she did not care and scrambled to her feet as though she was being chased down by a madman. Finally, she stopped running and breathed in loudly a couple of times to even out her breathing. She slumped exhausted over the fountain and made a scoop of her shivering hands.
She splashed her face repeatedly and finally caught her wind. The last sob shook her like a child deep in sleep before the chill of fresh water made it feel like a passing daydream. The feeling vanished, and she felt that she had completely died inside. Naruto did not love her—the thought finally made a shaky home in her breast, and her heart beat no more even if she thought of the memory again.
Listlessly, Hinata dragged her feet inside the house and closed the heavy door behind her. She squashed her back against the closed door for a few minutes and breathed in the aroma of incense in the sitting room. Few grey swirls still lingered about. She found her senses again and breathed in and out ritualistically and struggled to throw the thought out of her system; but the memory clung to her mind, a swollen leech, drinking her sanity, emptying her of the last bits of honour left in her.
Her head spun around, like an impassioned dervish, and she flung herself to her right to break her fall. She sank down to her knees and then pulled herself stubbornly back up again. Her ears rang with Sakura's and Naruto's laughter in the forest yesterday, the harsh sounds of his breaths on the bridge when he sniffed at the flower. He had betrayed her, shamed her, dashed her honour to pieces. Their marriage was nothing but a prison for her.
There was a menacing silence all around, but her ears pricked up at the faint sounds. Her mind loved the distraction and she chased after them. Sasuke . . . that was all that whirled in her mind. She wanted to find him. Her eyes searched for him, and her body yearned for him. It was so foolish to think this way, but she did not care. It was just desire—a silly desire—to feel the heat of his body.
She stopped by the large door that led to Mei's room. It was slightly ajar. She hid herself behind it like a child and peered at the back of the room. It was a sitting room attached to the bedroom. Faint sounds wafted to her through the half-open sliding door. There in the room stood Sasuke in black trousers, without anything covering his torso. The sleek lines of his body were well-punctuated by the glow from an orange lantern sitting on the side-table.
He was roughly pushed against the wall by Mei who stretched on tiptoes to place a kiss upon his neck. He buried his fingers in the waves of her hair and bent down his head to cover her lips with his. She responded eagerly, pulling him closer as though he was a toy. He pulled down the net-dress she wore and helped her step out of her gown that crumpled by her feet.
Mei stood almost naked, gripping Sasuke's shoulders. He buried his face into the flesh of her neck and moved his hand up between her thighs to cup her genitals through her underwear. Hinata's heart raced and her fingers gripped the door's handle tightly—palms slickening with sweat, breath catching in her throat. She pressed her hand to her breast and kept looking, unburdening herself of Naruto and his memories—their empty memories.
It was shameful to look at this free-show, this exhibition of lust, but the desire she felt for him made it easier to throw away her honour and enjoy the spectacle before her; it was as though he had arranged it just for her, asking of her to join him in the old dance for the sake of decadence and pleasure.
So she watched as Mei lay on her back on the large bed, naked. Her body covered with sweat. Sasuke kissed her breasts and his hands played with her thighs. He moved lower and lower. Hinata felt the sticky wetness at the junction of her own legs. She felt warmer; her face, red and blood crackled in her veins. Her heart was loud that she thought someone might hear it beat—that it would burst if it beat any faster.
Hinata clenched her fingers into a firm fist, shaking, watching as he kissed her wet core. A moist flood appeared on her inner thighs. She was getting a vicarious thrill out of watching him pleasure another woman. She wanted him to do this to her, make her feel pleasure . . . feel something—a spring for her heart's autumn!
Mei's lips parted with a moan, her back arching off the mattress, whilst Sasuke continued to kiss her between the thighs. She stretched her arm and played with his messy hair that was spread out over her pinking thighs. Hinata shook all over and her vision blurred and her ears filled with a static sound; her spirit was numbed by shame and lust.
Something ached between her legs and it hurt and she thought that the only thing that would end it was to be filled by him completely. She pressed her hand down hard on her lips, eyes enjoying the scene, thinking that she was there beneath him, waiting for him to complete her. The dull pain there was intensifying in a manner that it felt as though it was steadily soaring to a crescendo, waiting for something to overwhelm it.
Sasuke pushed himself inside her and moved roughly. The last bit of will left Hinata as she watched Mei wrap her legs around his waist. She moved back and ran to her room. She did not stop till she made it safely inside. She closed the door, locked it securely, fearing that someone saw her standing outside the door.
She fell down onto her bed and buried her red face in the folds of the new bed sheets. Her heart continued to beat loudly before it finally found its right pace again—that silly mind continued to play everything over and over again. No matter how hard she tried, she could not bring up Naruto's memory: it got buried underneath the new one her body was growing fond of.
Minutes passed, and when her body finally felt the chill coming in from the window upon itself, she rolled onto her back. Her eyes looked to the ceiling, and she moved her hand over her genitals and pressed it down a little: it was still throbbing there, but the pain was gone. She gulped down the cold air in the room and closed her eyes; and as if something had exhausted her, sleep had her in its clasp almost immediately.
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Sasuke lay under the warm sheets, with Mei next to him. He opened his eyes, the red in them tearing away the darkness in the room. His Sharingan had fooled her so badly . . .
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EN: Shunga is basically traditional Japanese erotic art. The depiction of Voyeurism (and the act of masturbation performed by the voyeur) was fairly common and popular in Shunga that roughly translates into "Pictures of Spring" or "Spring Pictures"; hence, the title of this chapter (it's that many shunga prints portray sexual acts in springtime).
I enjoy sexual humour, so this chapter was written with that idea in mind; and, because of that, a lot of language (which involves Romance and its clichés) is purposefully exaggerated—a bit.