Chapter Nine: It Began with a Mistake
AN: The Hyūga Clan (mostly) works like the family and social systems introduced in the mid to late Edo Period.
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Mistakes—what were they like? How many had she made to twist away from her little piece in fate? She could not recall having made many to earn her freedom. A dreadful sound cut through her lust, but it was not enough to break free of it completely. She was helpless. She wanted him: she wanted him terribly. His touch made streaks of heat travel straight to her heart that shuddered, and it shuddered still more . . . deliciously more.
That moist flood of craving increased between her legs whilst her questing tongue traced his lips, and as he parted his mouth, she tasted his; it was warmer against hers that her eyes fluttered like a moth caught in a whirlwind. There was a fleeting taste of sake on his tongue, and she drank the breath from his body. So sweet—he was so sweet! She wanted more . . . much more.
That dull ache intensified to a sharper pain, and she just wanted him to fill her. Every barrier of shame was gone; every memory, forgotten behind the passion. Her mind was fettered only by body. Her timid heart, which was often slow to catch on, was stirred violently to a hot fever of desire. Veins throbbed with a heavy pulse; blood pounded in her ears like drums little children played with. Her skin was warm and sweaty, and when the cool draft of wind slid across it, it became another sensation that whirled her blood and mind.
Hinata was helpless. She finally realised that she was . . . helpless. With trembling hands, she had slid off his office jacket. It lay somewhere by her feet. She did not care where it was. Her unsure hands struggled again with his shirt. She had just grabbed the corner of his shirt when he pulled it over his head and threw it away. A thin film of sweat covered his white skin; and she felt it tingle with arousal underneath her fingers. (His skin, she noticed, was much too white that her hand's colour looked dull against it.)
It was not a slow dance she had imagined. No, Sasuke was fiery, his touch demanding, forceful, and quick, his teeth grating on her lips. His breaths came fast and heavy; and when they blew across her slick skin, all the unwanted wants, unfinished pleasures, unnamed dreams mingled into a single sensation that went trembling to her bones like a vibrating pulse and to her flesh like a clawing fire—lust. She had never . . . felt this before, a stranger thing . . .
At that moment, nothing mattered—no one mattered. She just wanted him to complete her and shatter the deep chill in her body; break her like a toy and make her whole again with nothing but strings and threads of pleasures; stitch that doll back up again and rip its spirit out with one shattering, pleasurable jab of a needle that would bleed her utterly—she would act in the pretend-play of young virgins to relive the last disappointing memory through him this time! (When you dreamt in faerie-tales, you hoped for things to be come true!)
This new sensation would not ease. She wanted his lips back on her, but when they met his, she knew that hers were clumsy like her . . . every bit of her was clumsy. His answer was a rough, hard, feverish kiss. He was not gentle. He nipped at her lips and let out a deep, breathy sound that rushed across her skin. His hands moved down, and he hastily undid the obi tied around her waist. He yanked at her kimono and it slid down in a heap by her feet—her underwear followed.
Her hand was tight in his hair, her teeth at his earlobe, as he lay upon her and wedged his hips between her legs. She arched up against him, breast heaving, eyes swirling. She moved her fingers around his heaving ribs, into the dip of his sweaty spine, and about the contours of his arms—and that face. He was beautiful, bewitching, breath-taking. That heated expression on his face gave him an intense look, a look that mesmerised her thoughts in lonely nights . . .
Hinata did not need any words. She did not think she even had them. It was all wordless lust and wonder bits in faerie-tales. Her timid gestures to draw him closer matched the expressions on her face. She felt his heart through her palm: it was loud and wild and quick. The aching pain increased. It was unbearable, and she felt it clench repeatedly against nothing.
Pressing into him, she smelt him and the heady musk from his body. In her confused mind, she listened to the crashing sounds of his heart as if it was made of something heavy and metallic and being thrown repeatedly against the wall—an assortment of dull sounds, rising from the depths, becoming louder and louder till they would become unendurable.
Her whole body felt as though it was violently crashing against the rocks—only without the pain, only without the unpleasant sensations. The feeling . . . it was breaking her apart. She wanted it to begin—let it start somewhere—and overcome her with violence. She was ready. She had surrendered. Her body, now, was a hopeless meld of lust and longing.
He entered her in one rough shove. A cry burnt in her throat. She opened her mouth to utter it, but nothing came out other than a whimpering sound. It hurt . . . a little. It was all so sudden. She felt full, almost wanton when he moved. His thrusts were quick, deep, powerful, and then they were hard, harsh, ruthless. She went into a frenzy, undulating with the rhythms he had to offer—pleasure singing in her body, swirling in her bosom, her walls pulsing around him.
Hinata did not want him to stop. She wanted him to break her and ruin her spirit with all the violence he could manage, let nothing of her old self remain, let it rot somewhere like this house rotted away in moors—leave her helpless and breathy and wanting . . . it was a very silly thought, but she was not afraid to admit it, not to herself!
She felt herself edging ever to close to the abyss from their mating vibrations as he unkindly propelled her body forward on the bed. She tightened her walls with each stroke, and he made a pained sound, his head bent and his eyes closed shut whilst he braced himself over her. His breaths were frantic, hot and ragged, against her ear . . . his thrust so deep that her calm broke. Her breath got knocked out of her. Her eyes became larger, and her mouth opened wide with wonder; and she erupted, tightening painfully around him. His neck strained in response; his face twisted in pleasure; and he stroked one last time and pulled out and sprayed his semen over her belly.
Whatever that feeling was, it went through her and she was spent—a pleasure she had never known before. It tingled her skin and burnt her lungs with a cool fire. Every breath that occupied her lungs sent sparks throughout her body. She wanted to feel more, more of him, more of this pleasure; but her thoughts were cut short when he pulled back. He did not look her way; he simply rolled off her, zipped himself up, and got to his feet.
Hinata watched as he bent down to pick up the jacket and shirt and left the room in silence. She sat up, confused. She heard faint scraping sounds, and suddenly, the door opened and then closed a moment later. And just like that, he was gone; she felt tears welling up, and as a single breath moved her, they graced her cheeks. Her fingers clenched on the sheets. He was . . . so cold . . .
When the sadness wore off, Hinata slept peacefully. It was a strange peace. Her body was not used to this—whatever this was. Upon waking, she experienced an unwanted soreness between her legs. It was expected. She sat on her bed silently, but her mind was elsewhere: misgivings and fears rolled in like cool waves, chilling her flesh and bones.
She did not know what to think: a part of her longed for pleasure and a part, felt ashamed and feared her Clan's wrath. Had she become too weak? She touched her red lips and they ached with the dull throbs of need. If they found out, they would banish her, disinherit her, or worse, kill her in the name of honour. There were stories in her Clan of people being killed to preserve honour in the past. She had committed a terrible mistake when she invited Sasuke to her bed. She had dishonored the institution of marriage—a marriage not just between Naruto and her, but between two clans. She would be accused of whoredom, adultery, infidelity and there would be no absolution for her.
Not long had passed since Hinata felt pleasure, but now, she felt the arduous challenge of overcoming the thoughts that were beginning to frighten her. It was difficult to escape this tormenting indecisiveness. She looked down and noticed that his semen had dried up on her belly: it was time to clean her body of him . . .
She stood up and gazed at her naked body and face in the mirror—a face with a confused expression stared back at her from the mirror. His cold attitude hurt her, but the mirror told no lies: she wanted this, so it was . . . all right? Then a ghostly smile crept across her tender lips. Sasuke was cold, but he had delighted her immensely. He made her happy, and even if it was something fleeting, she enjoyed the experience that brought her nothing but contentment.
She would see him again and invite him to taste the same pleasure. If Naruto could have Sakura, why could she not have Sasuke? Why were they all never fair to her? This was fair! It was a stubborn thought, but she believed it to be right and just. He did not refuse her—he was a man, after all. She looked away, embarrassed by her reflection smiling girlishly back at her without any guilt. And then, like a child, she lifted her eyes a bit to gaze at the woman grinning like a little girl who had received her first awkward kiss on the mouth!
Hinata moved her hand up to touch her lips; Sasuke had kissed them, and they were still red and swollen despite the night that had cooled off her passions. She stood straight, passion rushing to her pasty face and imbuing her cheeks with a bright rosy glow. Boldly, as if to feel herself to be real, she covered her breasts with her own hands: she squeezed them slightly, closing her eyes, tilting her head back to let out an impassioned sigh . . . remembering the night as though she had taken a sip of an intoxicating and redolent sake.
Naruto had never pleasured her this way. She repulsed him. Every inch of her was a blight of a disease-filled reminder that he loved another. She was a scar, a terrible wound on his life that reeked of a duty and loveless marriage. How she hated this marriage now, his betrayal, when only a few years back he could abate the mounting sadness in her with just a warm smile! (He was the morning sun, the warmth in summer, the balmy breeze from the blues of seas!)
Hinata opened her eyes and looked at the ceiling fan and a single tear traced an irregular path down her cheek. She felt nothing for him now, and it made her happy. She moved her hand down, brushing it on her nipples before tracing the round curve of her breasts, retracing the paths Sasuke had touched with his hands. Her lashes trembled: it was an enormous feeling of lust that came over her.
She desired him so much that, every time her hand moved a little lower, tiny, muted sobs shook her like a babe being denied its repose. Finally, she touched her genitals, and her clumsy fingers tangled in the rough hair. It was beginning to ache again, and she felt empty. Moving her finger across the lips, she collected slippery mucus from between the folds on her forefinger. She bit down on the lower lip, swaying like a somnambulist that stood alone in a room, surrounded by the fumes from dreams.
She closed her eyes and enjoyed the feeling of her warm finger against the fleshy core; but it was not enough . . . Hinata let out a loud sigh and unburdened herself of the onus of her father, clan, marriage. She withdrew her fingers and stared at herself and tucked a few strands of hair behind the ear. She did not care for them anymore. She would find a way to break free; she would let them conquer her spirit no longer!
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Sasuke had left a hasty note on the rack: it instructed her to be on the Training Grounds before the sun came up. She obliged, albeit she was angry with him.
Now, she stood under the clear sky on the training grounds, wearing that old Genin outfit she had tucked away in one of the trunks she brought with herself from home. She never expected to use it again, but fates were smiling on her today. Everyone was here, even Naruto, standing with their heads bowed. Naruto looked tired and weary, his eyes surrounded by deep black circles. On his right was Sakura: she was patting on his back; an expression of sympathy remained pasted on her face.
Neji stood opposite her, his eyes white. He was a kind man, the only man from her clan who opposed her marriage. He visited her home once a week, but due to the recent burden of missions, she had not seen him for two months. He had apologised to her profusely at the Hidden Mist Village that he would find more time for her. She loved him for his honesty and his perseverance to hold his own on Sasuke's team. He smiled when she looked at him. They stood at a little distance from the rest of the team; Neji was the Assistant Jōnin, after all.
She moved her head a little to look at the two lines of twenty Chūnins that stood in an orderly manner (a few feet from each other). She was curious to see who else was on the team, but she recognized no one. Other than Sasuke and Neji, all of them were Chūnins. Naruto and Sakura were contenders for the third and fourth Jōnins on the team, but Sasuke had not offered a letter of recommendation to the Anbu Commander, so they remained (stuck) at the same posts.
Presently, Sasuke was pacing in between the two rows, lecturing the Shinobis on the merits of being on top of the Jōnin Teams in Konoha and how it would shame him if they slumped down to the second spot. Hinata stood erect when she heard him shout at a man she did not recognise.
"Do I look like a fool to you?" Sasuke asked and pointed his hand at himself. The man in front was sweating by the buckets.
"S-Sasu—I-I mean, no, Sasuke-Sama," he sputtered out in a loud voice, puffing out his breast; he looked constipated as if he was about to squeeze out a very large egg.
"Shut up, you fool!" Sasuke spat in his face and took one step back. "Pay attention when I'm talking to you, you hear me?" Sasuke stretched his hand and poked at the man's temple with his fingers and pushed him back.
The man staggered back, still nodding like his head was a part of an automatic mechanism. He stepped forward with lightning speed, took the exact same spot, and stood erect, his eyes bulging out. Sasuke cast one last hateful glance his way and resumed his back and forth walk.
"The examinations are approaching, and if any one of you fails," he paused and held up one finger, and his face changed with an angry smile, "I'll ruin your lives. Understand?" Loud 'yes, Sasuke-Sama' sounds rose up from all the Chūnins. Even Hinata muttered a squeaky 'yes' and dropped her gaze when she saw Sasuke flick her an expressionless glance.
When no one said anything more, Sasuke created a surprised look on his face and said, "what the fuck are you people looking at me for? Get lost and carry out the team exercise we discussed yesterday." They all scrambled at his command—even Hinata began with a start, not sure what she was supposed to do.
"Not you, Hinata. You're coming with me," Sasuke said, stopping her in her tracks. "Neji, oversee the exercise, and if someone doesn't perform, send him home. This isn't a support team for freeloaders."
Neji nodded and marched off in the team's direction. Hinata's eyes kept following him, and then she tore away her gaze and brought it on Sasuke. He leant against a tall and large tree a few feet away and looked at her. His eyes and face were without the heat and passion she saw last night; his aloofness surprised her. "Focus your chakra into your hands and make a small spear," he commanded and folded his arms.
Hinata gulped and felt the burden of his eyes on her. It was strange that they were so intimate with each other not that long ago: he was cold. Focusing on the task at hand, she clenched her fingers and cracked her knuckles a few times before she held out her palms and focused chakra into them. It looked nothing like a spear but more along the lines of an irregular jagged rock. She was . . . very embarrassed.
When she stopped the flow and lowered her eyes, Sasuke made a small 'hmm' sound. He did not seem impressed. "You've been out of practice for five years. I didn't expect you to accomplish anything," he said and looked up at the birds sitting in a big tree opposite. "But that doesn't mean you shouldn't work hard to improve yourself. There are few simple ways to improve Chakra control." He pushed himself off the tree's rough bark and walked to her.
Hinata stepped back a little and felt her face get warm again when Sasuke stopped only a few inches from her. "There's the long and hard way, and then there's a short-cut. If I choose the hard way, you'll be stuck in the Genin rut for Sage knows how long. I doubt you'd want that. So I'll teach it to you through a different method. Hold out your hand," he said and held out his.
Looking at him, Hinata slowly moved her hand up. He took it in his grasp and ran a bit of his chakra through it: his chakra was extremely powerful, and it made her heady. "This is a very small amount of my Chakra. You won't be able to handle anything more from an Uchiha," he said, holding her hand tightly. "My chakra has a certain pattern—every chakra does, but it's tamed and regular. It won't be able to perfectly regulate yours, but it'd give it a little push to regulate itself. I used this method to teach Yuu how to perfect it for his Medical Jutsus."
"How w-will I . . . ?" Hinata asked and looked at his eyes.
"You'll have to keep trying to form a perfect spear." He loosened his grip. "And—" he broke off when he saw how quickly she pulled her hand back and gazed about to make sure no one was looking at them. There was a sense of urgency in her actions, and he did not like it. He frowned. "What are you doing?"
Hinata jerked her head up and put her hand to her breast. She looked hot and confused—she had yet to detach herself from that lovely experience, and this small distance between them was making her feel awkward and embarrassed. "N-Nothing," she muttered and held her left hand tightly in the other.
"Listen," he said and inched a little closer and leant down his head to meet her eyes, "whatever happened between us doesn't make it outside the confines of your bedroom. Do you understand me? Grow up. Unless you want to remain locked up in your house forever, I suggest you stop this and toughen up. Otherwise, you're just another meal for Namikaze." Hinata moved her head a little and gazed up at his stern face and that cold expression.
Sasuke backed away and wiped his sweaty face on his sleeve; it was getting warm. "Go over to Yuu and cut through twenty Chakra blocks in an hour, and then come back to me again. Don't just try and cut through them—turn off your chakra every time and try and mix it with mine to smooth it out. Go," he ordered in a flat tone and shoved his right hand into his pocket.
Hinata turned around and jogged off in Yuu's direction; he stood with Sakura and two other medics under the shade of a sprawling tree. As she walked past Sakura, she met her sea-green eyes for a fleeting moment. She noticed a strange look in them that she could not quite understand. Hinata stood at the far end with Yuu and closed her eyes to mix Sasuke's chakra with hers. It ran through her like a spark, delighting her senses—all over again. (Sasuke may have been cold by nature, but she was not used to these sensations to forget them so easily . . . )
Opening her eyes, she gathered chakra into her hands again, and when it materialised, it was a little less irregular. She thrust it forward when Yuu created a thick chakra block. It did not even dent it. She cut off the supply and tried again. This time, a small nick in the block made her feel happy. She looked over her shoulder and saw Naruto create a large spinning Rasengan and add Futon to it. He threw it forward, cutting all three large stones in front. A ninja who stood with him slapped his hands onto the ground and three thick stones jutted out again.
She looked ahead, and even if a small part of her felt remorse, it was too little, too late. She stopped the chakra flow and gathered it again when Sakura interrupted her: "when did you decide to join the squad, Hinata?"
Hinata turned around, and her focused chakra disappeared in frilly fogs upon her hands. "Y-Yesterday," she answered, with timidity, blocking out the feelings of her distaste for this woman—a woman who had aided Naruto in making her life miserable.
"Ah, that's nice!" she spoke in an artificial and unconvincing voice as though she was forcing herself to speak and wheeled around to fully face her. "I heard Sasuke personally invited you to join the team. Is that right? He never extended us this courtesy. Isn't he whimsical?"
"Sakura, if you don't complete this, Sasuke-Sama will get angry again. Do your work and let her practice. She has a lot to do before she reports back to him," Yuu said firmly, created another block, and urged Hinata to resume her training.
"I know—you don't have to remind me," Sakura returned with a calm smile and went back to the other two medics. An odd sort of expression was moving over her features like a phantom's hand. She kept moving her eyes back and forth between the Medic in front of her and Sasuke.
Hinata felt the first tremors of . . . something like fear. This woman was strange. Hinata started gathering chakra into her hands and kept looking out of the corner of her eyes at that fair face softening and contorting (and then back again) under the influence of an intense emotion. Something about Sakura made her spine tingle with an uneasy sensation. There was just something about her, and Hinata could not say what . . .
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