family affair
five:
initiation
Hinata met Gaara for the first time at a concert when she was 16. She was alone. It was the first time she had ever been to a big show by herself, and she was attempting to manipulate a random man into buying her some "liquid courage"––as Ino called it.
Unfortunately, Ino had declined the concert invitation, choosing instead to go on a date with a boy who did not care for her––but that was a different story entirely. Hinata was left to toy with her ripped sleeves beside the bar, sending woeful looks at any of-aged-looking man who walked past her. It was useless, though, because she was no Ino.
She was no bombshell blonde who could pass for older with just a blink of her glued-on lashes. At other parties, Hinata would stand to the side, alone for only about three minutes, while Ino walked around the bar like a pacing tiger. She'd always get a bite, and she'd cheerfully carry two or three fruity drinks back to where Hinata was standing by herself. Sometimes Hinata would time her. Ino's record? 45 seconds.
In any case, every single man ignored her as she pouted and blinked at them in what she thought was an Ino-like way. Looking back on it, it was embarrassing, but she'd only wanted to feel less alone. Even just one drink would be enough to shake the anxiety off of her shoulders to let herself enjoy the night.
Unfortunately, she faced the stares of pitying older women, as men looked over and through her: her awkward teenage-ness was an indisputable fact. At the time, her hair was growing out of an awkward childhood bob which was still fairly unflattering, and she still held all of her baby fat in her pink cheeks. To combat it, she'd taken to drawing on big, heavy streaks of eyeliner to mimic a cat-eye and grew out her bangs to frame her face. This really only succeeded in making her eyes look larger and her face rounder, but she hadn't been aware of this mistake until years later. At this point, she was just a kid in a band tee, long-sleeved torn mesh undershirt, and a short and flirty tennis skirt.
That's not to say that Hinata was not cute, she was very cute––she just could not, by any means, pass for grown. She was about to give up on her search for liquid courage, when she watched a redhead man, who she'd later learn was Gaara, walk up to the bar and casually grab two tall cans of cold beer from the counter. He handed one to her, saying nothing, and walked back into the crowd.
Obviously, she followed him. She wanted to give him her thanks in earnest; otherwise, she'd feel too guilty to move on. "I w-want to pay y-you back!" She yelled to his back as he slipped between bodies in the crowd. He was gunning for the stage, not looking back. "I d-didn't want it for––for free!"
Out of breath, Hinata finally caught him as his body angled dangerously and intentionally over the barricade while a security guard pushed him back. His shoulder bumped into her chest and they both stumbled. Gaara finally turned and gave her a blank stare as Hinata repeated, completely red in the face: "I can p-pay you back."
It was here where Hinata got her first good look at him, and her breath caught in her throat. He was not that much taller than her, but somehow he seemed to tower over her. His face looked tired but very young at the same time, with dark rings lining his lower lashes, making his skin a startling alabaster. His skin was clear though, and bright as if he were glowing. Even more so, he had these piercing green eyes that looked over her curiously, drinking in her image. She gulped at his gaze, and it was here that Hinata noticed that instead of a pair of red eyebrows to match his shocking hair, he had a tattoo. It said love.
His face against the overhead lights of the venue spoke of implicit danger that for once in her life, she ignored.
"F-for the drink," Hinata insisted, jolting when she realized she'd been staring and gesturing with her arm extended. She awkwardly held up the unopened can of beer so that he could see what she was talking about. "I w-wasn't looking for a h-handout I'm just um...u-underaged..."
He snorted, surprising her. An amused look fitted his mouth as he turned to face the stage, where the opening act was strumming the first chords of a song. The screams around them started dying with the first notes of music, so he leaned closer to her, their heads almost touching as he said frankly: "I stole those. Don't even worry about it––shit's disgusting."
He wasn't holding any can, so he must've discarded it. He inclined his head, and Hinata opened hers to do her own experimenting under his watchful gaze. She felt hot as she turned the can over in her hands in the muted light of the front stage, trying to ignore the shoulders that began to press on both of them. When the sour liquid touched her tongue, she immediately made a face. She and Ino usually tried to score fruity beverages, wines, or shots they could rush down the throat. Beer was uncharted territory, and now she knew why.
Still, she pretended she liked it, taking long and enduring gulps and trying not to make a face. The boy watched her curiously, looking as if he didn't believe the show she was putting on. Somehow, they were shoulder-to-shoulder, their hands gripping the partition between their bodies, the press walk, and the stage. He leaned closer so that she could hear him, his breath warm against her temples.
"I'm not exactly of age, either. Seriously, don't worry about it, I've stolen better drinks."
Hinata took a long pause to respond, which she was using to process the fact that she was suddenly, overwhelmingly attracted to him. Between the sip and his admission, she had the tingling realization that he was incredibly hot. He was wearing dark clothes, black pants, and a tight-fitting band-tee that was almost identical to hers. Truthfully, he did look rather tired, but upon further inspection, he'd also lined dark kohl around his eyes. His hair looked like a forest fire with subtle curls taking hold of his roots. More than that, she assumed he was normal, and she liked that about him, this normalcy.
"Ah," she said as she made herself drink the rest of the IPA. His eyes were on her as she chugged it, and the crowd squished their bodies even closer together as people tried to make their way closer to the stage. The main act would go on soon. "W-well...t-thanks. My name is Hinata, what's y-yours?"
-:-
As you have probably surmised by now, that normalcy was a lie. Hinata found this out later, one night during the very beginning of their relationship, after the two of them kissed for the second or third time, their greasy fingers on each other's skin, pulling their bodies close together with a want so strong it almost seemed completely foreign to their bodies. Still, they welcomed the feeling like it was an estranged family member who just needed a place to rest their feet. They'd both been raised that way, after all.
They had just pulled over after picking up food from a drive-thru. Before that, they had attempted to see a movie, but they had quickly grown bored with the plot and left with the idea of marijuana and junk food on their brains. Of course, they had more on their brains than just those things, but they were too nervous to admit that their bodies were full of a specific sort of tension whenever they looked at each other. The darkness of the movie theater became a question of their positions, and if they were sitting too close, and...could they get closer?
So they kissed in Gaara's car, which was a really cool vintage convertible situation that Hinata didn't care enough to ask the name of. They kissed for a long time and were starting to enjoy getting to know each other's bodies. After a few minutes had passed of just their mouths moving together in a slow dance, Gaara began to reach over to Hinata's side of the car to pull her closer. She was enthusiastic, pleased, and nervous––so nervous that she accidentally knocked over a styrofoam cup full of soda while she was grabbing for the corner of his shirt.
He was more than nice about it, he hadn't even jumped in surprise. Gaara said it was fine and directed her to the napkins in the glove compartment. She was red and sick to her stomach, having spilled cold cola all over his crotch. When she reached inside to pull out a stack of napkins, a golden medallion engraved with the shape of a gourd fell to the ground with a heavy thud. Hinata registered the symbol almost immediately and quickly looked at him, her eyes as wide as saucers.
All ideas of normalcy had gone out the window.
Gaara was no idiot, and neither was she. He punched the button on his steering wheel to stop the radio. She put her hand on the handle of the door. Gaara grabbed her other wrist quickly, tightly, and she felt her bones rock against his grip. "You shouldn't know what that means," he said about the medallion. His voice was more a question than a threat. "Tell me how you know."
Hinata gulped. His grip on her wrist tightened. Neji had her location on his phone. In her contacts, there were a dozen people she could call, mutter one singular word to, and have them come find her faster than Gaara could get away. Inside her boots, she'd hidden knives. Her pulse quickened as she thought of possible escape routes. The roof was down, so she could jump up and run down the road. He wasn't letting go, but she had a free hand, so she could grab the knife and––
"Hinata," Gaara said. He sounded desperate this time, his tone mournful and he wasn't breaking eye contact. Hinata could see how fast his heart must've been beating with how quickly his breath was coming to and from him. "I need to know. Please."
Hinata took a long time to answer. She was quickly recalling everything she had ever been taught about the Suna Syndicate.
Suna: A large south-side clan, composed of the country's best extortionists and fighters. Weapons were their specialty, but they trafficked a little of everything. They had about two-thousand members across the globe. Their headquarters were located in the south Konoha neighborhood of Hibiya, making their presence a point of contention among the Hyugas; however, they also had a hub of desert-based operations that made them true heavy-hitters. The Suna and the Hyuga had a long history that was not without violence, but they had settled on a treaty to keep them both in check almost fifty years ago. Currently, a disturbance between these two superpowers could cause a big enough disruption to the international crime sphere to knock the black market off its feet and crash entirely, so they chose to become long-term allies.
That didn't mean that a Hyuga heir and a Suna prodigy's relationship would be possible. It would be disastrous, any way you spun it. So much power required careful and constructed rules and boundaries. This union would violate every single one.
She swallowed her thumb poised over her emergency contact as she said, "My n-name is Hyuga Hinata. My father-my biological father-is Hiashi."
Gaara stared at her with no reaction. Then he dropped his head into his hands and whispered, "oh fuck."
-:-
"Why do they have this?" Naruto asked under his breath, picking through an enchanting if not overbearing display of various desserts and treats. "This is enough to feed a goddamn village!"
Sasuke didn't respond, erring on the side of grace in the face of his new position in the Hyuga Syndicate. It was about twenty minutes after the Affair, and the room was still busy with members as they chatted energetically and congregated around Neji to congratulate him on his new role. For the most part, they avoided Sasuke, looking at him with poorly-hidden scorn as they navigated in wide circles around his body as if he had plague.
That meant that they had common sense. Sasuke didn't feel bothered about it––if anything, it made him feel more confident in Hiashi and the people he surrounded himself with. When he would undoubtedly be given a mission, he knew he would be surrounded by a group of thoughtful and intentional people. Except for Inuzuka Kiba, the poor idiot walking up to them with two glasses of shining, dark liquor, he thought they were all sharp people.
Kiba was scratching the triangular tattoos on his cheeks, a designation Sasuke figured belonged to a specific subset of Syndicate members. Tsume, his mother, and Hana, his sister, had matching ones. He filed this information away for later as Kiba handed them the drinks, saying: "You could've told me you were Sasuke fucking Uchiha, you know."
Naruto outright laughed, Sasuke rolled his eyes. He was already bored of the Inuzuka's simple thought process, his weaknesses showing more and more clearly the longer he spoke to them.
"And why would I have told you that?" Sasuke drawled, looking over at him. Kiba wore dark slacks, a navy hoodie, and a blazer over it. It seemed that he didn't care very much for decorum. "If I were in your position and you were me, I would've killed you for sport."
Naruto nudged him hard in the side but Sasuke didn't care, he already had Hiashi's attention. And why wouldn't he? Before this point, it had only been rumored that there were any Uchiha left, and now one of them knocks on a Hyua's door with evidence that a second one exists. Even better, it just so happened that the second one was a part of the gang that killed one of their own. Sasuke had made it so that they needed him, and all he'd asked for was clemency.
Kiba was stuttering out something drunk and unimportant, combating Sasuke's response with something like "Nah man, you don't even know me. I'm cool, I'm cool I would never kill you dude," and had already lost Sasuke's attention.
Instead, his focus was drawn to the interior garden. Someone was complaining about the cold, so they were sliding the door closed. In the split second between its closure and Sasuke's attention, he saw Hyuga Hinata standing in the frigid cold, her mouth in a thin line as none other than Suna Gaara held her wrists in his grasp. Now this is curious, he thought, as alarm bells rang off inside his head. The Suna leader hadn't even been at the Affair––why should he be hounding the Hyuga princess?
The door gently slid closed. Naruto caught Sasuke's keen gaze as the garden went out of view. As Kiba continued to chatter, Naruto elbowed Sasuke again, saying: "dude, whatever it is, let it go."
Of course, Sasuke ignored him, slipping out of the room like a quiet wind. The door barely made a sound as he closed it. In front of him, Hinata was weeping silently, asking Gaara to leave, as he took angry strides in front of her, saying over and over, I'm sorry Hinata. How the fuck else can I prove to you how sorry I am?
Hinata was asking Gaara repeatedly to leave her alone. In the time since he'd seen her in her seat, she'd acquired a heavy fur coat that fell to her calves. Between her fingers was an extinguished blunt. Her face looked pink and delicately made in the lowlight of the lone lantern, and the light cast the shadow of her long eyelashes across her cheeks.
Protecting his daughter would put Sasuke in a good position with Hiashi, and Sasuke needed to build trust as quickly as possible. He'd start with the princess.
When he stepped up, Hinata's eyes shined with relief so great, that he felt angry. Something terrible must've happened between the two of them, and Suna Gaara was not to be trusted. Not that he ever had been. The Uchihas may have hated the Hyugas, but they hated the Sunas more. They'd never even attempted peace––they simply dealt with them when they needed to be dealt with. A lot of those situations ended with blood.
He stepped between them, his dark gaze on Gaara. "I think she asked you to leave," Sasuke said, his voice low. "Multiple times. As a direct hand of Hyuga Hiashi, I will have no choice but to physically remove you."
Gaara snapped his head to look at him, his eyes glowing against the light like he was some sort of lizard. Idly, Sasuke wondered if he had talons too, as Gaara made a big show of widening his shoulders and lifting his chin. When he opened his mouth, a couple of shiny teeth were revealed. He was showing off the fact that he'd lost teeth somehow, and had enough money to replace them with solid gold. If Gaara had been allowed to have a gun in here, Sasuke imagined that that gesture was the same as pulling out his weapon.
The Uchiha didn't feel bothered. Even when Gaara said, "I don't think you know who you're talking to. Since you seem to have just gotten here, I'll let it slide. Go inside, this isn't your business." He turned his back on him. If Sasuke was another man...
"No," Hinata said, startling them both. "He's...he's right. I asked you to leave. G-Gaara, this is Hyuga property. Y-you have a lot of n-nerve approaching m-me like this."
Sasuke raised an eyebrow at this casual display of timid power. He should've known that the Hyuga heir was no stranger to authority, and it seemed that Sasuke's presence helped her unearth some confidence. Her expression was closed as she looked at Gaara, her mouth an unwavering fine line.
She spoke quietly to Gaara, "I d-didn't tell my father the first time because...whatever. But there will always be an opportunity. P-please see y-your way out," then, she turned her amethyst gaze to Sasuke, appearing as if she were looking through him and into the rooms of the estate. She was like an unblinking, pink, ghost in the garden. She fumbled, for a moment, with a lighter and relit the blunt between her fingers as if she was trying to take the attention from her strained expression to her fluttering hands. It worked, and Sasuke watched as she gestured, saying: "Uchiha-san, can you make sure he finds the door?"
Ah, an order. That was unexpected. Apparently, it was a surprise to Gaara too, who snapped his head to look at her with a violent, hateful expression on his face that caught even Sasuke off guard. But when Gaara saw the stubborn fix of Hinata's lips, he said nothing and simply turned to walk out of the garden.
Sasuke followed him out. Honestly speaking, he did not yet know his way around the Estate, so when he and Gaara exited the Affair room, he asked a lower clan member to take Gaara the rest of the way. Sasuke stood in the doorway and watched until their backs disappeared from view.
Then, he reflected on the quiet power of a woman scorned. Hyuga Hinata might make things interesting here. From his position at the interior doorway, he watched her enter the Affair room with a polite smile on her lips as if nothing had happened. She immediately was swept into a conversation with an Elder, which she appeared to be enjoying. As she turned, Sasuke saw patches of red climb the skin of the back of her long neck––the only evidence of her exertion at the moment. When the Elder moved on and Hinata caught him looking at her, she gave him a slow, hesitant smile that didn't show her teeth or reach her eyes.
And yet, Sasuke almost believed it. She would make an excellent spy.
-:-
Hinata slept soundly through the night without any disturbances or even any dreams. She was grateful for it. Even more so, grateful for the liquor she'd consumed with Neji and Tenten after everyone finally left. They sat by the fire pit, drinking entire bottles as they picked through the desserts that remained. Hinata warmed her hands near the flames, chewing on the last slice of apple pie.
"Suna Gaara was here," she had spoken quietly with a neutral tone, testing the waters. Tenten and Neji didn't know anything about her and Gaara's relationship––very few did. And she wanted to keep it that way. Still, she needed to know why he was at the Estate with her father.
"Yeah," Neji responded casually, his words slurring a little from the abundance of celebratory alcohol. Drunkenness to the point of slurring was unusual for him, and Hinata reminded herself to let him enjoy it. "Suna's got the same beef with Akatsuki as we do. They're tryin' to do somethin' about it. Lucky, I guess, Uchiha showed up."
"W-why didn't he just come to the Affair?" She'd egged on, despite her want for one night free of politics. After this, no more questions, for real this time.
"You want Suna knowing our secrets? They're allies, not blood."
Hinata only hummed in response. Non-Hyuga members had come to Affairs before, and a Suna would not be so unusual, especially when an Uchiha's dark gaze eclipsed the room in hunger. Hinata could tell that he was hungry-and that hunger scared her.
Maybe because in some ways, she was often hungry, too.
In any case, she went to sleep drunk and woke up with a clear mind. Her body was tired but that didn't matter because she had a full day ahead of her. The initiation.
Her room had a balcony facing the driveway and she stepped out briefly to watch black cars begin to pull in to park. Servants were carrying baskets of flowers off the bed of a dusty green pick-up truck from Yamanaka Flowers, and groundskeepers were clearing the stairs of the snow that had fallen sometime between Hinata's sleep and her wake. Initiations at this level were always a big deal. For stoic Hyugas, they liked to show out.
Hinata imagined that acquiring one of the last Uchihas was a cause for loud celebration. She pictured the hard jaw, soft-featured Uchiha who had wandered into the interior garden to help her, kneeling in front of her Father, being asked to forget the names of his ancestors.
Hinata went back inside, her arms red from the cold. It seemed like no one cared to speak of the Uchiha's dark childhood, though he practically paraded it in their faces like a badge of honor. What was he doing here? This hurting man.
Causing trouble, she thought mildly. It was what men did: they caused problems. That was one philosophy Aoki specifically parroted as she braided Hinata's hair or instructed her baking. Aoki always tried to do normal things with Hinata, like taking her to museums or signing her up for dance classes. Hinata would never be a man, of course, but even she had the potential to start something she couldn't finish. Aoki made sure she knew that.
Maybe if Aoki hadn't killed herself before Hinata's first big relationship, it wouldn't have wound up the way it did. But how could Hinata blame her, when more problems––caused by men––had led Aoki to a bathroom medicine cabinet?
"Ah," Hinata sighed, pressing her cold fingertips to her temples. Flashes of images––the clawfoot tub in her parent's bathroom, the pool of yellow pills, her mother's long red fingernails––crowded her mind in a violent rotation. She shook her head hard. Drank water from her glass on the bedside table. Sat on the edge of her sprawling canopy bed.
Her phone beeped. It was noon already, and she was running late. Quickly, Hinata dressed in slim black jeans, and a wooly cream-colored crewneck sweater that was a bit too cropped for her liking. She tucked her feet into warm socks and bunny slippers, and noticed then, that her hands were shaking.
Well, there were a number of reasons why that would become an issue. On her way to the studio, she stopped at the kitchen. Hanabi was standing there, staring out the back window at the lawn where a big white tent was going up. More workers were there, waiting to line the tent with tall heaters.
"Bit excessive," Hanabi commented snidely. She was still in her sleepwear of short shorts and a large T-shirt, though she looked better rested than Hinata. She was pensively eating a bowl of fruit.
"I agree," Hinata said in a rushed way as she grabbed an orange juice and leftover turkey sandwich from the fridge. Through the window, she glimpsed men stringing lights and carrying tables. No one else did initiations like them. Most syndicates chose bars, hotel rooms, or strip clubs––maybe they'd even go abroad. But no, Hyuga did things in a more closed circle. An invitation to celebrate at the Estate was worth a lot of money.
She left the kitchen quietly, trodding down the hallways while eating, trying to get the shaking to leave her body. She was about a quarter-way through her food when she reached the North wing of the Estate, and with her free hand she yanked her keys free from her jeans to unlock the door to the studio.
And bumped right into Uchiha Sasuke, who looked over her with coy, sleek eyes. He stood against the wall next to the double-glass doors, whose interior curtains hid the inside of the room from view. His eyebrow quirked up almost immediately as Hinata began to turn pink.
"This is your job?" He asked, his voice mild, but still Hinata tasted the hints of his disbelief in the air.
She wasn't surprised at the question, and when she replied it was with patience: "Why w-wouldn't it be?"
Sasuke shrugged, he didn't have an answer. "Well. You're late."
Hinata struggled to keep her expression neutral as she finished unlocking the door. Well, that was rude. Late to her own home? Mentally, she scoffed at his audacity, cataloging the coy expression on his face as he walked through the double doors casually.
The studio wasn't as big as the double doors suggested and looked more like a small closet or deep pantry. Hinata kept the doors open to make it seem more spacious, then she opened the curtains of the small window that looked out at the garden where the dry leaves of hibernating plants tapped against the windows. She allowed herself to wish for spring as she busied herself with setting up materials. Her hands had stopped shaking and she was glad for it.
"Y-you can sit there," she pointed to a pale green Scandinavian chair with birch legs. He sat, looking like a plot of ink against the cream-colored walls and light tones. Hinata had designed the studio herself, choosing bright art, hanging plants, and minimalist furniture to decorate the space. Most people were surprised when they first walked in.
She could feel Sasuke's gaze on her as she worked, opening drawers and placing witch hazel, razors, and needles onto her work table. While she fiddled with her printer and looked for her scissors, his voice sliced through the silence .
"What do you think of me joining your Syndicate?"
Hinata found the scissors and cut through the transfer paper with precise hands. She found the question funny, and even laughed a bit. She turned around and held it up so that he could see it: the caged bird seal of the Hyuga. "I d-don't think it matters what I think."
The seal had a long history within their clan, leading back to when their ancestors were ninja who aided the imperial court, their espionage a subtle brush of wind in the quiet of the night. Now, every new high-level initiate was to receive this tattoo as a symbol of their life-long loyalty to the clan. Hinata had been trained to give tattoos at a young age, starting with a single needle handpoke while her uncle oversaw the gentle pokes into the flesh of her arm. She'd given herself her own seal. Then, she gave one to Neji. She was 12 years old when she first used a machine.
"Why not?" The Uchiha said slyly, his eyebrows lifted. "Are you not the Hyuga princess?"
"I-I'm no princess," Hinata placed the stencil flat on the massage table. She patted the space beside it, and Sasuke slowly moved to sit. "I'm just the d-daughter of a powerful man. Where do you want this?"
"I have a choice?"
"O-of course," Hinata wanted to roll her eyes, but didn't. She cast her eyes shyly to the side as he lifted his shirt over his head, exposing hardened and scarred skin, rippling muscles.
He pointed to a spot on his back, right where the collar of his shirt would rest below his neck. "There," he said quietly
His face had become devoid of emotion, a far-away look in his eye as if he had suddenly been overcome by memory. Hinata gave him his privacy and moved to his back. She placed the cool binding agent to his skin and ignored the shiver that went through his arms. Gently, Hinata placed the purple stencil against his skin. His back was remarkably soft, unlike the rest of him.
She told him to look in the mirror to make sure it looked right to him. When he said it was fine, she instructed him to lay on his stomach. She started the tattoo into the silence.
Hinata did tattoos for everyone in the Syndicate––whatever designs they wanted, for fun––but initiation tattoos were different. She wasn't allowed to play any music. Only their speaking voices were allowed.
She stretched the skin of his back and let the machine pack the customary green ink into his body. The Uchiha was relaxed now and the pain didn't seem to be affecting him. Hinata wondered if he had any other tattoos as she pulled a long, straight line atop the nudge of his spine.
She worked with her hair pulled back from her face in a low bun, standing with her upper body posed precariously over his body, both hands working the skin of his back. He turned his head to the side, surprising her as his eyes met hers with an intensity that alarmed her. They were dark embers, encompassing, and they seemed to lure her in.
She pulled away and refilled the needle with ink, taking a necessary deep breath. For some reason, this session had taken all of the air from the room, leaving her with none. Most sessions went quickly, perfunctory. This wasn't like that.
"You haven't answered my question," Sasuke said. Hinata was posed over him again, and she realized, idly, how vulnerable of a position he had put himself in by choosing this placement.
She began another long line with the machine in her right hand, stretching the skin with her left index finger and thumb. She concentrated, grateful that the man could not see the concerned set of her face. Should she be honest?
What did he want from her?
"I think..." she said, not taking her eye off of the line and how his skin was taking the ink like soil to water. He had good skin for tattooing. "...t-that these are dangerous times and there are dangerous m-men playing dangerous games."
"Hm," he hummed with the sound of the coil machine. It was loud and easily filled the silence of his pause. When Hinata looked at him, his eyes were closed. "And do you think I am a dangerous man, princess?"
Hinata tried not to dig the needle into his skin at the nickname, holding the machine tight and steady in her grip. She could easily scar him for it or make him bleed, but she was better than that. No one had ever equated her position to such a frilly title. Besides, she preferred to be no one at all.
"I d-don't know what sort of man you are, Uchiha Sasuke," Hinata said quietly.
AN. Hehehe this was a fun chapter. I love tattoo artist Hinata-dream come true!
Pls Review! See u next Tuesday
