Chapter Twenty-Seven: A Thieving Girl
# # # # # #
He downed one cup of sake, then two, then three . . . and sighed out a mouthful of breath. Then he filled his lungs back up with the spice-scented air: the restaurant was redolent with the scents of alcohol and of spices; his cheeks were red, and his half-mast eyes, raised to look at a waitress wearing a plunging kimono; a silver chain, dangling from her neck, was lost between the tightest squeeze of her breasts. She brought her arms together to deepen the cleavage—a leer on her painted lips.
"One more," he rasped and knocked the cup against the table. He slumped forward and pressed his cheek against the table.
The waitress skittered her fingers through the mop of unkempt black hair and whispered into his ear: "you're a handsome drunk. Come in the back room and I'll give you sake and more." Her warm breath tickled on his nape; he strained his head a little to look at her and smiled.
"Maybe after you get me that cup, sweetheart," he said groggily and knocked the cup on the table again.
The woman took hold of his wrist and tried to raise him up to his feet when another strong hand firmly grabbed her arm. "Whoa, whoa! Calm down, lady!" said the man, a little loudly. "Hey, I saw that. Don't you dare go for his pouch again!" he warned and sat down beside his friend. "And bring me one cup. Make it light."
Frowning, she disappeared behind the beads hanging in back of the counter. He returned his gaze to his friend and gave a hard tap on his back. "Oi, Sasuke! Quit drinking, idiot—that was your thirtieth cup! What's wrong with you?" he said with reproach and grabbed hold of Sasuke's shoulders.
Naruto pulled him back to a sitting position; Sasuke's head was still hanging down from heavy intoxication. "I brought you here to have fun, Naruto. Aren't you having fun?" he asked, his eyes still closed.
Naruto sneezed and wiped his nose on the back of his sleeve. "Not with that attitude I'm not!" he remarked, looking around at the heavy smoke from incense and spices hanging in the air like a thick winter fog. "I didn't ask you to bring me to this place. Three women have groped me, one almost took off with my wallet, and you nearly got dragged off to the back-room to get groped again. What's so special about this place?" He scratched his golden hair, matted with sweat. The room was hot.
Sasuke uttered a half-intoxicated chuckle. "They serve a special kind of sake, good food, and the women here are cheap—very cheap. The self-proclaimed monks from Konoha come here to rut—what else? And you're no monk," he said and looked at Naruto from the corner of his misty eyes, filling up with tears from having inhaled many fumes in the room.
Naruto clucked his tongue, wearing a disapproving expression. "Crazy bastard—you're drunk," Naruto said heavily and threw his arm around Sasuke's shoulder. His warm, ocean-blue eyes regarded him strangely. He sighed and wiped the sweat from his forehead. "What's the matter—you had a fight with Itachi?"
Making a sound of irritation, Sasuke turned his head away. "Hah! I am right—great way to get around it. Get yourself robbed and groped by strange women. You sure have a fine way of settling things," he said with an air of concern and looked at the woman who came out from the back room, with a tray in her hands. She put down the cup before Naruto and glared at him. Her red-coated lips pursed whilst she cast one last hopeful look at Sasuke before disappearing behind the tinkling beads again.
Sasuke slapped his hand on the table, his head spinning. "Mounting a mistress daily—you're the one to talk," he retorted hoarsely and coughed, his eyes bloodshot and bleary. He was having a hard time focusing on the cups in the racks and was seeing doubles.
Naruto drained his cup and placed it back down on the table with a clink. "Yeah, I'm not the one who's drunk and wasted. What happened? Did he give you too many missions? Your brother is . . . strange," he said, his tongue rolling out the final word very softly and very cautiously, fearing that any hint of harshness in his voice might incur Sasuke's wrath: it was a sensitive matter concerning his Nii-Sama, after all.
Sasuke turned his head a little and fixed him with an angry glare. "Don't talk about Nii-Sama like that," he said heavily and propped his head in his hand. (And that night Naruto learnt that even softness did not work when Itachi was the subject of discussion.)
"Did he?" he asked and placed his elbows on the table.
Sasuke remained silent for a few moments. Then he breathed out loudly and wiped away the sheen from his forehead. "Back to back missions for Seventy-Two hours. I don't even have an hour of free time between the missions. If I don't complete the missions he left me—" he stopped as a wry smile pulled at his mouth, "—I'll be demoted back to the Chūnin rank."
"You're pulling my leg?" Naruto asked, smiling with nervousness. Sasuke emitted a half-hearted, forced laugh and tipped his head back to look up at the beads hanging down from the low roof. They looked as though they were swaying and floating above his head. He was mad drunk . . .
Naruto's mouth hung open in shock and disbelief. "Stop laughing, you drunk grouch. This isn't funny!" he said; his nervous grin had slipped off his sweaty face.
After a cough into his open palm, Sasuke straightened his head and shoulders. He shook his head and traced the marks on the table (left by sake) with his fingertips—sake had soaked through its wood for years. Naruto clamped his hand on Sasuke's shoulder. "Why—is he mad? What's wrong with your brother? It's just like last time when he didn't want me on the team. You fought with him and he ended up discharging you on disciplinary grounds. I get that he's strict, but for Sage's sake, this is crazy! Why don't you say something to him? That's not fair!" he spat out, his blue eyes bulging with anger.
"Naruto, I've told you time and time again not to talk about Nii-Sama like that," he growled and knocked his elbow against the table; then he rose to his shaky feet and waded his way out of the restaurant.
"Oi, Sasuke, wait up! You're still drunk—some shady woman will grope and rob you!" Naruto yelled from behind. He slapped the tip on the counter and ran behind Sasuke. When he stepped outside, mountain breeze hit his warm skin with a delightful chill. Sweat drops shivered off his brow, and his skin trembled at the sudden assault of cold. He looked around and found Sasuke bent over beside a tree . . . vomiting.
He spat out, probably, the last cup of sake on the ground and slumped down against the tree. Naruto walked to him and stopped by the tree, and his eyes wandered skyward to look up at the crescent in the sky. It was a clear night. "Come on, let me help you up," he said and held out a hand to him.
Sasuke took a long whiff of the fresh air and breathed in and out several times. "Quiet . . . give me a moment," he murmured in reply, breathing heavily, his eyes downcast and his expression guarded. He was gathering together his strayed senses.
Naruto stretched and put his hands behind his head. "Man, you're a handful. You haven't even changed. That uniform stinks now," he said, yawning, and rubbed sleep from his eyes. "I'm hitting the sack when I get back—oi, Sasuke, don't fall asleep! You're too pretty to be left out all alone. These people are wolves—they'll eat you up!" Naruto shook him by the shoulder and grabbed his limp arm. "That's it, I'm taking you home. Come on, easy does it." Naruto threw Sasuke's arm around his shoulder and curled his other arm about his waist.
"You fool, I've got a mission in an hour," Sasuke protested, getting irritated.
Naruto pulled him closer and chuckled. "Fine, you can get a power nap and I'll wake you up fifteen minutes before the mission. Happy? Oi, I said don't fall asleep or I'm goin' to carry you on my back. What will people think?" he joked and gave a soft laugh.
Sasuke touched the side of his head and narrowed his eyes to a squint. "Damn you—don't yell in my ear. My head hurts." He winced and clutched at his stomach. It was hurting like hell.
"Your fault—told you not to drink that much." Naruto laughed and turned to the long and winding road to Konoha. It was night and all the colourful lanterns were lit. Leaf was a twinkling lake against the backdrop of night. The fragile yellow leaves above them shook as the breeze rushed at them. They quivered and prayed to not be parted from the tree.
"Say, Sasuke," Naruto paused, steadying him, "you told me that Mist's lake was beautiful at night. I want to see it, too. I've never been outside the village that much. Father never allowed it. It would be a great trip—just the two of us. What do you say?" He stopped in his tracks and drank in the sight of fog around the boundaries of Konoha.
Sasuke raised his eyes and looked beyond the haze of night and mist that played tricks on his eyes. The alcohol was wearing off. He took in a lungful of air and spoke, "why not. We can do a mission together there."
"Huh? I was thinking about hunting. You're so good with the bow. Teach it to me!" Naruto said and started walking down the slope. Wind rushed at them from behind: mountain air went rolling down the slope. It came nipping at their heels—cold and light.
Sasuke coughed and then sniffed the fragrant air. "I don't have time for hunting these days. Why don't you concentrate on your Jōnin trials rather than day-dreaming of hunting? You're never serious," he remarked and picked up the pace—it felt as if they were jogging down the slope.
Naruto's smile broadened. He titled his head a little to look at Sasuke's sobering face. "You passed on the application?" he asked, shocked.
"I did. Maybe that'll teach you to finally drop that devious woman," Sasuke said, nettled.
Naruto groaned in response, his face a little tense. "Don't talk about Sakura-Chan like that. That's not nice. You can be so mean," he said and wrinkled his nose to resist a coming sneeze.
Sasuke broke into a laugh so hard that his body shook (Naruto could tell that Sasuke was still quite drunk). "A rusty kunai is a rusty kunai," he broke off and breathed in and out loudly, "keep indulging her whims till she drops you behind and goes off her merry way. Don't say I didn't warn you."
"Sasuke, I—" he stopped, with a heavy sigh, "—never mind," and in silence, they walked down the slope; and mist steadily rose up from the grass and enveloped them . . .
# # # # # #
Sitting under the light of a candle, placed high on the rack, Hinata riffled through the scrolls. Night had fallen, her father's anger spent, her resolve strong against its steps that advanced into the territory of her frailty. She steadied herself after the catharsis, and, viewing her life through a kaleidoscope of emotions, she thought herself to be above her former self: a little less timid, a little less delicate.
Dust went up into the air when she set the scroll down, a little forcefully, on the wooden table. The wood underneath it creaked. She turned on her Byakugan, soft veins bulging harshly around her eyes. They were all asleep. She had brought few scrolls with herself to copy the details if she found anything, and she would leave the main-door with the same number. It was not like they ever thought her to be clever.
Hinata clenched her teeth and cast an angry glance at her father, who tossed and turned on his bed in distress. He had spent his entire youth without a woman's warmth: her mother met her end when Hinata was a child of ten. Years of loneliness, perhaps, had made him hard—a little uncaring.
Her features softened, and veins shrank back into her face, which hurt from cold's bites in the old storage-space. The air in here pressed against her like a wall of neglect. Dust lay thick about the jute bags in the corner. This place had not been cleaned in so long. Pressing the soft of her arm against her lips, she broke into a cough. Heavy upon her mind, a wash of memories splashed grief across her face: if her mother had not died, her father would have not been so desolate.
Chasing after joy like a mad child for so long, she felt wretched. Her spirit moved back and forth between reason and emotion, loyalty and betrayal, love and lust. Leaning her back against the cobweb-riddled wall, she heaved a regretful sigh. She had made Sasuke her lover with great relish; he played hard to get when he wanted and let the elusive passion-threads come from his body when he wanted—just like that.
Hinata's frail fingers trembled on the wooden-floor. She raised them to look at the dust caked beneath her fingertips and on her palm and wrist. She wiped her hand clean on her kimono, white as camellia, her thoughts racing back to Sasuke. Thoughts of him invaded her mind: memories that radiated from her body that melted together with his . . . brought out sensations she had never felt before. Ashamed, she squeezed her eyes shut—her childhood vow, a faded mark in her memories.
A quieted child, it was he whom she wanted, needed, loved. Tears filled her eyes, and the deepest tremble in her made one stray down her cheek. Hastily, she raised her hand to wipe it away as if leaving it burn there was hurting her pride. She had become pitiful, weak before her lust, falling back upon him again and again and casting her desire-tinted gaze upon him; feeling the delightful weight of lovely sensations about her, on her body, in her mind.
Her eyes dilated and darkened with need. Even when he was so far and out of her reach, he had such an effect on her. Like a theatre show for children, he moved his finger and the string tied to her clumsy body forced it to respond, with the precision and eagerness of a puppet. She could sense herself losing it whenever he touched her. Her flesh responded with an ache that destroyed her peace, her vows, her dignity, and she felt little remorse for it.
Regret . . . what was it to her now? Hinata's face changed. In her mind, like an impairment, anger existed in reason's voices. She sighed out in defeat and unrolled the two scrolls in her lap. Disappointment crossed her features, and she set them aside on the pile to the right. They were not what she wanted; but what did she want?
She slumped her head over her knees, her face buried in her hands. Her shoulders hunched. "Naruto," she whispered, shaking, "why did you never love me? Why did you never care for me? Do you even care where I am now—on the edge of shame? It's your fault—it's all your fault." She laid all the blame on him, thick and uncompromising against his will.
Pulling her head back, she stared at the flame on the wick. It flickered very slightly. The breeze was too weak to travel this far down the basement. It must have lost its strength, trying to sneak through many gaps under the doors and around the windows. A moth fluttered over it and burnt its wings black as soon as the flame touched their soft tips. It writhed and died in moments.
"Okā-San, why did you go?" she whispered into the air that was still.
Naruto was to blame; his madness, she had seen it with her own eyes, denuded before her in the dark when no prying eye could bear witness to his savagery. He crushed her, humiliated her, broke her to pieces. Looking back at the memory, she felt that his soft-blue eyes that had once looked at her with the tenderness of a friend's were a dim memory. Did she feel shame for breaking away from him?
Sasuke had told her that someone cast a Genjutsu on him, too, and stole the scrolls in his possession that day. Was that why he attacked her—was heartless to her? She did not know what to think. It seemed like a lie, but it was not as if she knew him to be sure.
She turned her head away: the flame stood before her—an austere judge—to weigh her mischief that drove her further down the path she never thought she had wanted . . . no one likes a thieving girl! Her fingers moved through her hair, her gaze resting on the trunk by her feet. It had a seal on it that would only open if a Head Family member touched the lock. She touched it and found the seal on the old scroll-paper she was looking for greet her.
Ink had soaked through all the way to the back. This was made with haste in the past. Hinata pulled out the only scroll sitting on many that were fragile and unreadable. Her Byakugan could tell that time's teeth had eaten away at them. She unrolled it and read the details of a deal between her Clan, Minato, and someone else—the symbol was foreign to her. It involved a large payment. Smells from old paper pushed up into her nostrils. Her mind was caught in a web: why did her father not tell her of this?
Turning it around, Hinata found nothing of interest. It was a deal overseen by Danzō. What would Sasuke want with such a useless thing? She took out a blank scroll from a bag tied to a single strap around her waist, made hand-seals Sasuke had taught her, and watched the letters emerge like a magic trick across its surface. Every colour, every word, every line found its way on the blank surface and filled it with chakra ink, right down to the seal pattern. It was done!
Hinata breathed out softly, her face blank. She placed the scroll back into the trunk and slipped the copied one into her bag. She sat there for many moments, and a smile disturbed her face. She wanted to run away—far away. With this . . . would Sasuke aid her in becoming a Chūnin? She sighed as if sensing his lips upon hers. With this, would he willingly come near her, make her feel loved when she would crave without remorse for the joys he brought to her spirit like gifts?
Hinata closed her eyes. Back and back, through the solitude which fled from her, her body throbbed and spirit ached. Long and wanton, a sigh spilt from her lips, warm against the air. It was misty, a fog's tendril on a winter's morn. Her fingers trembled on her thighs as a fanciful reverie of an intemperate lust (of the unsatisfied mind and body) gripped her with deliberate brutality.
Her mind took a flight and created a pretty illusion of her beneath him, her lips feeling his flesh, his body pressing against hers—mad surge of his hips, harsh sighs from his lips, passion across his face . . . and she sighed. It mattered not. She would run away from here; she would find her own peace, for that was all she knew in life . . .
# # # # # #
Itachi tapped the katana against his leg. He looked a bit impatient, though it was no surprise that his face was cold as ever. If there was not a slight tremble of his eyelids, Suigetsu would have thought him to be a statue made out of solid ice, dragged out from one of those theatre freak-shows for all spectators to see.
Quite suddenly, his expression softened and Suigetsu gave a start as if a chakra tag-bomb had gone off right under his buttocks. "Suigetsu, stop jumping around," he spoke and pushed the sword into the sheath on his back.
"Right, boss!" Suigetsu said and quickly turned his laugh into a cough at the sight of Itachi's frown. Next to him stood Sakura, her head bent and eyes upcast to stare at Itachi. A blush graced her cheeks, though evening was too compassionate to give her away.
"What is taking them so long? I do not have an entire day for this," he spoke and turned his eyes to Sakura who raised her head attentively to look back at him. "Go and see what is keeping him."
She gave a quick nod and jogged through the open gate. An ember-like symbol was carved into the plank above the gate. This was a small village with very few Shinobis. Tsunade had sent him out here to make sure that the emissary from another Shadow Village made it safely to Leaf and back. It was Sasuke's mission, but leaving him to wander off on his own meant nothing but trouble now.
Sakura disappeared into the darkness upon the narrow street—just beyond the gate. "The broad's a clumsy Sensor, Itachi-Sama. Why didya brin' her along?" Suigetsu asked and reached to his back to grasp the massive sword's hilt. He always touched it for no reason, at all—it was an unhealthy habit of his.
Itachi turned around and half his face came under the shadow from night. "You ask many questions," he replied as a moon-kissed smile ghosted over his lips.
"That's what a man does when things don't make sense," Suigetsu said, his willowy face turning mischievous.
"And you talk too much," Itachi remarked, the smile still lingering.
"And that's what a man does when he's bored," he said with glee, passing his tongue over his sharp teeth that sparkled as though they possessed a light of their own.
"Then I suggest you dig up a little hole by the gate and play a game of pebbles and try and roll one pebble out of it at a time," he spoke in his typical flat tone of voice.
Suigetsu burst out laughing. "Yor funny, Itachi-Sama. I mean, ya hardly look it, but yor funny!" he choked out and wiped the tears from his eyes with a very exaggerated gesture. "But I 'ave ta say, wasn't this Sasuke's mission?"
"Still so concerned about my brother's duty-roster? Your interest in his well-being is truly touching," he spoke, without emotion, and looked up at the sky, hidden behind a broken sheet of clouds.
Suigetsu bent down and picked up a rock. "Yor so mean. Ya took his mission and left 'im ta rot in the village with back ta back missions fer three days, didn'tchya? He wasn't goin' ta run away, ya know. Come on, Itachi-Sama, where's the love?" he said loudly, raising his hands dramatically into the air, as if he was praying to the Kami.
Itachi did not say anything. His Sharingan was out whilst he looked at the gates. Wind rushed to him, and the hair flared away from his ears in waves. Suigetsu smiled behind him and threw the rock at the metallic gate: the rock clanked against it, ricocheted off at a sharp angle, and fell into the darkness on the right.
"Why didn'tchya bring Jūgo along? He's a good Sensor. I think all that hard work's gettin' ta ya! Just get a fancy whore and calm yorself. That's what I'd do—if I'd got yor money and purdy looks," he said and pushed the stray hair from his eyes.
Itachi cast him an amused look. "I do not think it is necessary now to keep track of my odourless crows through his Natural Energy sensing skills. Would you not agree?" he asked slowly, a soft smile upon his face.
Suigetsu's mean grin turned into a laugh. "You may think I do not know my brother, but you will be surprised that no one knows him more than I. I know why he kept Jūgo, and I know why he kept Karin. He wants to guard himself against my intrusions. I granted his wishes to induct you all for I had no more desire to see him unhappy.
"He believes me to be an intruder in his affairs, and he tends to get carried away like an innocent child, lost in his playtime, when he knows it needs to end now. And he kept you," Itachi paused, bending his dark, meaningful gaze full upon Suigetsu's face, "for you seem to share some interests with him. I hope you do not think you ever tricked me."
Suigetsu pressed his knuckle to his lips, a delightful laugh rumbling up from the back of his throat. " 'Course not. Why would ya ever think that? Ya know, I've always admired that noggin af yours. It's got nothin' but me respect," Suigetsu said, laughing, and gave a low bow. Then he raised his head a little and looked back at Itachi's eyes, steeped in red. "But ya do tend ta give into Sasuke's blackmailin'. I guess, his noggin ain't that bad, either. He knows how ta get past ya. Ain't that adorable?"
"Did you do what I asked of you? I hope you did not come along to flap your gums and make foolish remarks. If I wished for that, I could have brought the Hyūga girl along to humour me," he spoke by barbing his words with customary indifference.
Suigetsu feigned indignation. "Come now—comparin' me ta that broad? That's so mean. 'Course, it's done. I left me Water-Clone with yor crow outside her room like ya asked. 'Am goin' ta slip in, look through that whore's soiled knickers ta find the Root seal, and slip out. Easy-peasy—job done!" he assured and slapped his hands together and rubbed them briskly.
Itachi steered his gaze to Sakura who yelled out a confirmation that the stay here was confirmed. He started walking to the gate, with Suigetsu behind him. He kept his face free of emotion, spirit seething—three days and this matter would be settled . . .
# # # # # #