A little vocabulary :

Gakuen : academy

Shōgakkō: elementary school

Chūgakkō: high school

Daigaku: university

Jukuchō: a private school's headmaster

Turkish taste: piquant taste used for cigarettes

Thank you for the review I have received, it is very appreciated! I hope you guys will enjoy the chapter!

::Chapter 2 ::

Fright made her intestine shrivel up painfully. The white walls reminding her of St-Junko psychiatric hospital asphyxiated her. She had great difficulty breathing decently. Inhaling was as painful as a stab in the heart could be. She felt so exposed, as if an enemy would jump out of any passageway to slit her throat open, which most probably would happen a day or another in such a place.

It was unconsciously that she followed Nakamura's rhythmic little steps upstairs, to the right, then to the left, in a certain passageway than in another, too absorbed by her self-pity.

When finally he stopped coursing through the whole place, the hair her bowed head sent over her eyes hindered her in distinguishing his silhouette. Hence, she walked head first into his back, squeezing quite a feminine squeal out of her social worker.

"Ano … G-gōmen n-nasai, N-Nakamura-s-san …"

Her stutter sounded so silly to her, that her signature blush crept to cover her porcelain flesh in shame. She could feel the heat rushing to her cheeks, whilst her head started turning. She was so embarrassed.

"It is alright, Hinata-chan."

He appeared to be as nervous as she was, maybe more. The frenetic movements of his fingers against his outrageous jacket her father would have burned, him still being inside of it established her mental statement. Sucking in a deep breath, he dared raising his shaky hand to knock at the door he was facing. In no time, a bark came as an invitation for them to come in. Of course, such an answer, unexpected by Hinata as much as by her companion, made the atmosphere even heavier than it already was. As Nakamura, stunned by the impolite behaviour he was greeted with, did not seem to be able to turn the doorknob, the door flung open, a few seconds after Hinata had finished reading the sign on it. Tsunade, Konoha gakuen jukuchō.

"WHAT?!"

A busty blond emerged in the doorframe, an absolutely furious expression plastered across her harmonious features.

"WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT?!"

Her biting voice was muffled by something Hinata could quite well put a hand on, as her father would be in her company in such a state quite often. That woman was drunk. A bottle of sake in the hand, she was piercing the two newcomers with her hazel eyes, waiting for them to reveal their intentions. In the background, restrained cries were to be heard, making Hinata's petite form quiver in sheer panic.

"You Nakamura?"

The inebriated blond pointed a long finger on Nakamura that was pulling on his tie with strength. Gulping loudly, his chocolate eyes wandered around to fix themselves on the woman's generous breasts, before escaping that sight with a blush that could compete with his protégée's. He nodded uncertainly.

"Good, you're late. Get your ass in there …"

She shoved herself out of the way, for Nakamura, Hinata grasping childishly his sleeve, to enter her office.

Inside, for her greatest shock, the strangest of shows was displayed.

A man, bent in two, was being kicked in the stomach by an older one. The victim was doing his best no to whine in pain, biting his tongue with all his jaw-power. The executioner, a tall brown-haired male, a cigarette imprisoned in-between his relaxed lips, was restlessly thrusting his knee in the soft flesh of his prey's stomach, baring a disinterested air.

She had seen such things before. In her father's bureau, in occurrence. Yet, in a school, she would have assumed that people would be safe. The acts she was attending to at the moment confirmed how naïve she still was.

"Sit there."

Again, the drunken woman was calling them out; designating Nakamura the only chair there was facing her desk. Hinata understood right away that she would not be acknowledged by that strange person. She frankly did not regret it in any way, entirely captivated by the scene going off in front of her. There was something … stirring in the way those two bodies engaged in some sort of ritual. Like animals confirming each others rank in the hierarchy.

"So she that Hyūga, huh?! Well, well, well, let's see what her record has to say. Where the fuck did that put that piece of shit?! SHIZUNE! SHIZUNE! WHERE THE FUCK IS THE HYŪGA'S RECORD?!"

A younger woman, short black hair flowing behind her, ran into the room, sweat pearling on her temples, stumbling before the papers she was holding flew out of her grip and landed right in front of the rude one's orbs.

The blond one, not at all disturbed by the black-haired woman's fall, opened the file that magically emerged out of thin air. Her secretary, at least that was what Hinata thought the younger one was to that flaxen fury, struggled to get up while her boss gave the impression not to be able to read a word.

"FUCK, ASUMA! GET YOUR ASS OUT OF MY OFFICE, YOU MAKING TOO MUCH NOISE, SHIT-HEAD!"

The man that had been kicking the living lights out of the poor guy's stomach only let go of his victim, turning his heels around without any greetings nor signs of respect to what seemed to be his superior, leaving the other man staggering on his weak legs. That one, hesitantly straightening his body, met two pearl-dyed doe-like orbs inspecting him with curiosity.

Connecting with a deep, brown gaze, Hinata turned her head away, her omnipresent flush intensifying. After a few seconds, she risked a new glimpse, only to discover she was being checked out with concupiscence. Her head started to turn even more than before. She could not feel any malice in those eyes, however she had learned throughout her days by her father's side to fear all glances like those.

Yet, she couldn't control her own eyes to wander on that man's form. He must have not been that older than she was, but still at least half a head taller than she was and most probably two times as big as she was. He had a tanned, strong skin that seemed to glow, a messy, thick coffee mane and a wolfish grin that unveiled oversized canines, tainted with his own blood at the moment. She followed his tongue as it licked away those stains, her glimpse passing from his mouth to his cheeks. There she encountered strange tattoos that were not unfamiliar to her. Their red shade reminding blood mesmerized her for an instant.

A little chuckle drew her out of her day-dream. He was laughing at her, whilst Nakamura and that rabid woman were discussing matters completely unknown to her. He had noticed the way she had been looking at him as if he was some strange new specie she had discovered and seemed to find it quite entertaining.

Noting the exchange between the two teenagers, the blond woman, irritated by Nakamura's stammering descriptions of that Hyūga girl that appeared to her more like a little manipulator than an angel, barked for the boy to exit her office.

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU STILL DOING HERE, INUZUKA?! GET OUT! AND THE NEXT TIME I HEAR ABOUT YOU GETTING INVOLVED IN A FIGHT, I'LL BUTTERFLY YOUR FINGERS!"

The tattooed boy only shrugged, not at all bothered by the blood leaking down a cut on his eyebrow, limping towards the door and helping the fallen woman on his way up with a hand. He was smirking with arrogance, as if he as well had discovered a new specie.

A snap of white fingers made Hinata jump in surprise.

"Hey, Hyūga! Look over here. I want everything to be clear between you and me. I am Tsunade, the principal of this hole. I don't give a fuck if you are the last remaining member of the once richest clan ever or whatever your family was, here you are nothing more than a scum-sucking rodent, understood?! If ever you do something against the rules of the academy, the same thing will happen to you as to that boy you have seen. I do not want to hear about you, 'cause I am gonna take care of you personally. You will attend your classes; you will shut up and do whatever your teachers tell you. No weapons or any instrument judged dangerous are aloud. The curfew starts at 9 o'clock of the evening. If you're not in your room by then, we will unleash the dogs on you. That's everything I've gotta tell you, you can get lost now, Shizune will show you your room."

°°

It just felt so strange. She truly had the impression of being back to that sordid asylum. Those white walls swallowing her up made her head spin. She felt sick.

Her habitation consisted of a medium-sized room filled with a table in a corner for her school works and a bed, very occidental in style, in another angle. Annexed to that room, separated from it by a wooden door, was the washroom situated. Washroom: a minuscule toilet and a sink. The showers had to be taken in community. With other people, other girls thank Kami, yet naked, exposed. It already appalled her. She did not appreciate for her body to be uncovered. It was a repulsion she had developed when she had turned twelve for various reasons. It was something that had greatly annoyed Neji. He appreciated to have the lights on when with her. She supposed it was to satisfy his inner pervert.

Laying there, on her hard, narrow bed, she started at the ceiling. It was … blank.

She couldn't believe what had happened for only a few months. It was inconceivable … She needed a Sobranie Black Russian. Those were Neji's favourite cigarettes he was importing from Russia. They were not the most expensive but he simply couldn't stand the taste of those American pieces of crap his friends where inhaling. He had extended his bad habits to her, and she had found herself hooked to those slim, long pieces of heaven. She could still after those months of privation feel the strong, piquant, indescribable taste of Neji's saliva mingled with the cigarette's fumes lull on her tongue, driving her crazy with craving. Wolfing the smoke and letting the Turkish scent exhilarate each cell of your lungs was a pleasure ten times better than sex. It was like an orgasmic wave reverberating from your body to your soul, amplified to no extend. However what even was greater than a Black Russian smouldering in a hand, while silhouette lying naked in red satin sheets, was the two only pleasures she was allowed combined in an explosive mixture.

Eyes closed, concealing those hideous inexistent pupils, motionless like and oversized porcelain doll, anybody would have thought she already had committed suicide. Yet, she was at the moment dreaming of things more satisfying than cutting her veins like cheap coupons. Neji's body appeared in her phantasm as well as the odour of a burning cigarette invaded her nostrils.

She could still feel him slamming in her with hate and pure animal need, his teeth grazing her offered throat. Her cries of pleasure would resound throughout the whole compound whilst one of her white legs would curl around his hip, placing itself on his last vertebras, maintaining him so close. They would interweave each others forms in their respective locks, so silky that watering down their sweaty backs, so strong for any strangling envy. Her backbone had always this reflex of arching, giving him more access to bruise her further, never-endingly and hear her beg for more, always more. He was so harsh, so pure, so … purging.

Speeding up his pace, her head would be thrown back; eyelids shut fiercely, lips half opened. Then, and only then, would her hand be hustling over the babyish night stand by her bed's side, desperately searching the source of the delicious vapours driving her crazy. She would burn herself, only adding to the pleasure of his movements inside of her, of his growls stifled by the crook of her neck. When finally her fingers would close up on the Sobranie, she would bring the cigarette to her mouth, doing her best for the quakes convulsing her body not to disturb her actions. The puffs she would draw out of the fine black paper would only magnify the effect her cousin's love bites had on her being. Once their release would occur, she had taken the aggressive habit of stubbing the cigarette out in his shoulder blade, tears of ultimate bliss crossing her cheeks. She was so fucking sick. Those were the days she believed she was utterly in love with it … she meant him.

Stupid girl.

She was sixteen; she was his cousin's loophole, her mother's image for her father, a scapegoat for her sister, a murderer for the world, had white lavender-tinted eyes, long, glossy black hair and had no fucking idea of what the external humankind was like. In other words she was diverting like an abandoned vessel. And she urgently needed a Sobranie Black Russian … or … well, Neji would do it!

°°

It's when you think things cannot get worst that it truly gets ugly. She had passed the whole afternoon in her cell, mourning over the lost years. Hey, she was the one that had decided for her life to be so! Nakamura had left her there, as he no more was taking her in charge, only wishing her good luck.

When dinnertime was announced through the intercoms all over the hallways, she knew at the tone of the voice she shouldn't be late. Already she had learned the map of that hellhole by heart not to be obliged to depend on people. She could direct herself without any help, and she wouldn't even had dared to approach those masked guards, their backs leaning to the wall, only waiting for somebody to act up. Frankly, who would be foolish enough to engage conversation with a man that did not have the courage of displaying his identity and bore the title of Ansatsu Senjutsu Tokushu Butai with pride. The Special Assassination and Tactical Squad. Enough to make one hyperventilate. And she would not have been one to be qualified by a strong health.

Stepping out of her cell, she was swallowed up by a horde of girls of all ages, from twelve to eighteen, evolving towards the same place she was. As it was Sunday, nobody was wearing the gruesome uniform she would adopt the next morning. Exhibiting their respective styles, Hinata already could differentiate the popular people from the rejects. Dressed as she was, she would be discarded for sure, when before she was one of the members of the leading gang in her school. So many changes.

She could distinguish the popular girls in front of her as they were laughing loudly and expressing themselves crudely. It was easy to comprehend the concepts in arrears ruling that place. More your crimes were horrid, better you were placed.

Just facing her were the backs of three girls discussing sexual experiences in quite a sickening manner, and it was noticeable by the way their peers formed a circle around them, that they were feared beyond comprehension. They were dangerous. Each time the blond one would turn her head towards a pink-haired, yes PINK-haired foreheaded girl, the other females staring at her would redirect their glances anywhere to avoid eye-contact. And then again, each time the third girl, her head adorned with ridiculous buns, would let out a howl of laughter, Hinata noted the shivers that would cross the girls nearby.

Of course, not all the female population would accept their reign. There always was that one bunch that preferred to defy the established authority. Those were just as evident. A few feet on her left, Hinata had had no problems spotting them. Three other girls, violently pushing their peers to the side as to create themselves a path, were marching towards them. They were calmer in appearance, which made them even more menacing. Nobody feared a fool.

Those three gave the impression of being less eccentric. Not at all dressed provokingly, quite elegantly in fact. There was a mean looking redhead that seemed to be the leader, a brown-haired girl that had 'I love me' plastered across the face and another black haired, more woman-like one that at least was eighteen and wore glasses. They reminded Hinata a little bit of her old friends. The same thought of the world belonging to them propelling them with power.

And those girls in question were just stalking the other loud-mouths, evil hidden under sweet smiles.

Not that Hinata cared. She had not been involved in school problems since the day Neji had beaten the hell out of her English teacher because he had wandering hands. That was when she turned thirteen. She was not planning on getting in trouble soon.

But, that did not mean she could not watch with interest other people getting in trouble. She could sense what was going to occur. A catfight or something like that.

The obnoxious blond lass, having trouble with her high-heels, separated from her group, laying a hand on the wall by her side and attempting to fix her discomfort. If there was one major no-no, it was to part from friends to be left alone. The observant redhead perceived right away her chance. She as well left her companions with a significant glance. The walk Hinata had engaged in became quite stagnant, giving her the opportunity of assisting to the blond girl's downfall. Once she was done with battling with her shoes, she took back her place between the other females, a few rows in front of Hinata. The redhead did not stop slithering through the line to get to the blond one, that didn't sense the threat.

Approaching the stairway, the blond disappeared at once, while the redhead remained. That was so strange.

Stepping as anybody else on the stairs, Hinata noted a puddle of something spread on the floor, in front of the stairs. When approaching a little more, she could discern a form like a fallen angel, drowning in an almost black liquid she recognized with ease. The unconscious creature was so beautiful. Like an illumination the gods sent on earth to camouflage its ugliness. Long strands of flaxen hair were expanded on the cold, hard ground shining in the setting sun filtering through the only enormous barred window there was. Her lips were smudged in the fluid they were releasing, eyelids concealing her eyes that must have been of the most striking azure color ever. And nobody was caring for such a being to be losing her life in front of their faces. They were continuing their path, disregarding their environs. Was that life? You do not know anything, you do not feel anything, the only thing being important is to keep walking?

The red-haired girl appeared. She was the only one standing out while the rest were continuing their path. Nearing the fallen girl, the red-haired one gave the impression of maybe wanting to rescue her. Oh, how Hinata was wrong! It was with shock that she saw that girl raise her foot above the swan-like neck of the fair-haired, lowering the tip of her heal on her larynx. She was pressing with a tormenting slowness, enjoying how painful it would have been if the female had been conscious. And nobody was paying attention.

In no time, Hinata found herself being spectator of that peculiar play. She did not give a damn if her peers were shoving her from one side to another, as if frantically making an attempt to warn her, yet she wouldn't budge.

There was something captivating in this school, in its people. She was absolutely enthralled by how that redhead's symmetrical visage was doing its best, using all its abilities to secrete the jealousy that was racing through her russet eyes. There was something so luscious in the blood leaking from the unconscious lass's mouth, surrounding the enemy's shoes and drowning them in hate.

She was standing there, immobile, swallowing this image of cruelty in her pupil less eye. However it did not last as the flesh color of the blond girl turned from pinkish to bluish.

She didn't know what to do. Act like everybody else and let a life being wasted, or attract never-ending problems that would most probably finish by her death and save an existence? She did not know what to do. She had promised herself not to get into trouble, yet she had never believed such scenes as the one she was witnessing could take place anywhere. The first true experience she had with the world was only blotched in blood and hate. She had the choice. She could push away the enemy, she could, but did she want? Or would she be able to shoulder another death?

The noise of girls blabbering became imperceptible. Their footsteps only were a light buzzing she ignored. In her world at the moment, they only were three. And it was to her to elect the pathway she would follow.

She was so scared when she stepped forward. When her foot collided with the redhead's one. When she pushed the girl away with one hand.

She knew she was dead meat.

Yet, she felt good. She had chosen not to be a murderer. She would be honest until the end.

That blond woman that was lying on the ground was now maybe the most important person in her life. The one that had pushed her finally to chose.