Okay. Here's the second chapter, fresh off WordPad. I haven't reread it fully, so... if it turned out terrible, then, shoot. xD Knowing me(and looking at the time), it probably needs a -lot- of editing. Maybe a complete rewrite altogether. Or.. half-rewrite. Once again, I don't own Naruto, or any of the characters. But I do love Masashi Kishimoto to death for having brought about such beautiful, memorable characters such as these two, if that counts for diddly-squat. ;
Er, where was I? Oh, yeah. This pretty much takes place from Haku's view of half of the scene from last chapter, as you'll find out quickly. I'll get better with the whole .. scene-flippage soon enough. Honestly, I was just afraid I'd -never- get past this part of the fanfic. It's been in the works for months now. The first half was written with the first chapter, but I got a bad case of writer's block halfway through, and despite having all of this planned out, it didn't come to pass. Needless to say, a good chunk of dialogue and detailwork and all that was left out along the way. Perhaps, as this story progresses, I'll do a better job capturing Zabuza especially's personality. Eh.. I'd be happy if I at least came remotely close, to be honest. Disgracing them isn't my purpose. xx Promise.
.. Well, except maybe Gatou. But Gatou is Gatou. No one really likes Gatou, anyway, do they? xD Sorry to any Gatou-lovers out there who stumble across this...?
No, by the way, the two do not do anything just yet. Not yeeeeeeeeeet. Enjoy, yes? And, reviews are always good. 3 Still looking for that flamer! .. Though nice, friendly, encouraging reviews are much better appreciated. xD! But you all knew that. ANYWAY. On with the story. ... Why do I get the feeling I left out something very important? Oh, well. It'll pop up next chapter should I remember.
Chapter 2: Awkward Beginnings, Hidden Conscience
How strange, that she should be called upon so randomly, and at such an hour of the night. But then again, it wasn't late at all, was it, given this place that she now had to call 'home'? Warning had come that there would be times when it was nearly morning before anyone decided to come by, so being awakened from sleep wasn't anything to be alarmed over. But she had not been asleep. No, nothing close to that... It was only her first night spent here, so to consider sleeping it away just .. wasn't right.
No; like most of the women here, Haku had been wide awake, and in the process of trying on some of her new wardrobes. She'd never had real silk kimonos before. And now, she had so many of them to choose from, all specifically designed to fit her! It had taken some time--two hours worth of dedication--to learn the proper way of dressing, but she couldn't get the obi on herself, so help was needed at first; and while they were helping to teach her, several of the women would not stop fawning over her, as though she were a little doll. They demanded to play with her hair, brush it out, pin it up in various styles that they felt to be good. Then they would undo it all and have her try on another kimono, in a different color, or with other designs, or wrap another obi firmly around her. When all was done, the process would repeat after another chorus of exclamations; "You're going to grow up to be so beautiful!" "What soft hair you have! And the length!" "The color matches your eyes so well! It brings out the lighter tone of them." "What delicate skin, like porcelain!" And Haku would blush, recoiling each time. It wasn't that she was ungrateful. Recieving compliments and affections had been absent for such a long time in her life...
A particularly mature woman, with naturally very red lips and small, dark eyes had been tutoring the little girl in the art of makeup. First came the foundation, to pale the face. Blush to add the lost color back into the cheeks. Then lipstick, a smooth layer of crimson, followed by eyeshadow and possibly mascara. She had been advised against anything too heavy, lest it take away from her wide, round eyes; a simple shade of grey or a light touch of darker blue would do nicely. But when Gatou had barged in, he had been very impatient, so the lesson was cut tragically short. Luckily for her the rest was just an explanation about colors and what looked best. For tonight, after much debate, a midnight blue kimono was the choice. Stitched into each sleeve and the bottom were gold and blue designs, flowers she had supposed given the shapes they seemed to create--but she wasn't positive. They were rather obscure. Beneath resided a white yukata. Covered in similar designs was the obi, of a soft golden. The only complaint that was held was the tightness of the obi. If not for the fact that all of the women wore them in this manner, she would have wondered if they were trying to suffocate her; but little by little she was growing more accustomed to it. Now, blessed as she were with little feet, walking was the least issue of concern. Actually she maneuvered quite well, especially down stairs, something she'd come to realize when following Gatou. Down, down, down...one step at a time, until--the ground floor.
"Remember, hold your head up. Make eye-contact; it's bad manners not to, got it?" Curious, that he felt the need to drill her on simple things such as that. It caused her head to tilt just the slightest to the left, until the strange being shot a stern frown over one shoulder. Haku was not very tall for her age, but then again, Gatou wasn't, either; so his height was little more than hers. If she wanted, she could stand on her tip-toes and peer over the top of his head. For the sake of not making any bad impressions, silly behaviour like that was refrained, though the thought did cause her to bite back the start of a smile. He motioned with one hand for her to wait. There were many rooms where the workers were allowed to enjoy themselves, to relax with each-other, all of which were on the first level. These rooms, it had been informed, were also used as 'viewing rooms' for customers. One room in particular, the most popular and largest, resided off to the back, the fact that it was unmatched evident by its solitary location. She had seen it earlier; but it interested her little, so she had not remained long. Silently Haku watched her employer scurry almost towards this particular room, and then disappear behind the hanging curtain called a door.
This left her eyes to wander around aimlessly. She'd already seen everything that was of interest here in the lobby, which took away a good portion of the 'interest' factor. Overhead hung two miniature chandeliers. They looked out of place, given the style of the rest of the establishment, and yet somehow their elegance was still appreciated by the surroundings. Spread apart so that both combined filled the entire lobby with the artificial light, in retrospect, it was no surprise they would be well-recieved; if not for them, the room would be plunged into total darkness.
Gatou's hand moved the fabric hanging from that lone doorway aside. However, it was a larger, far more deadly hand that took over the job. Emerging behind Haku's employer was quite possibly the most frightening man she had ever laid eyes on. He loomed over Gatou with ease. Towering, that hand attatched to an equally-powerful arm, covered from the knuckles to elbow by carefully-sewn off-grey, blue cloth. The same articles were fashioned for each leg; extending from their coverage of black sandal-clad feet, up until shortly below knee-length. Had they been sewn by him? .. Strange, he didn't look at all like the type to take on tasks like that. Everything else was black. Black, covering the rest of his legs, and his chest, but bandages concealed the assumedly thicker neck. They wound their way up around the lower portion of his face, even the majority of his nose.. so that the only visible feature were two rather sharp, cruel eyes. Dark. They were dark, and they seemed to pierce straight down into Haku's soul the moment they found her own wide orbs. Shoulders were visible; the shirt posessed no sleeves. But those arms gave a firm enough impression on the rest of the body.
There was something stranger than any of this man's features, though. Turned so that the gleaming plate pressed against the side of his head instead of the forehead, was Kirigakure's symbol. Four small lines tilted to the right. The metal piece was set on black fabric. The ends were tied so that the two long strands dangled over his shoulder, to sway with every movement, no matter how subtle. This man was a soldier of sorts. Or, that's what she had gathered, with the little bits of information gathered over the years.
Only when Gatou presented him with a key did it occurr to Haku that he was buying her. Behind the powder, behind the blush, a real rush of color rose. What was she supposed to do? Introduce herself? Greet him? Lead him upstairs? Or was there something else to be done before those events took place..? But it seemed her feet had suddenly sprung roots, which dug firmly into the soft carpet below. No matter how she tried, they wouldn't budge.. All little Haku could do was stare. Not at her boss, but the mountain of a man dwarfing him, at those unnerving eyes as cold and unforgiving as a demon's.
A new sound crept within range of hearing. Hushed whispers. Whispers of... what? She could hardly hear them. Now and then a word caught on; 'demon', 'Momochi', and for some reason, 'hidden'. Like a code, waiting to be deciphered. There was no time for it; Gatou, from behind those tinted glasses, shot his newest item a sharp glare.
"What are you doing? Don't keep him waiting!" Came the order, barked with surprising irritation. Somehow, Haku had lost herself in those eyes. The initial response was to apologize, started out with a quick bow, and her fingers momentarily laced together nervously. Already she had disappointed! Did this man regret his decision? If he had chosen one of the others, the more experienced ones, then...
--Again her thoughts were interrupted by that rude voice. "Stupid girl! Are you trying to treat Za--" Her buyer's hand stopped the sentence from continuing. It raised, motioning silence, those eyes fixating instead on the brothel's owner. Yet he didn't look angry at all. Well.. not with her, anyway. The hostility seemed instead directed at Gatou. Gatou's mouth snapped closed. Instead of lowering, she was summoned with the twitch of a single finger: "Follow me", the action spoke clearly.
Haku did not object. She did not hesitate up the stairs, trailing the heels of the man who had bought her company for the night; she did not hesitate down the hall, or even into the room the particular key presented opened the door to.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Gatou was up to something; it was written all over that weasely face of his. Why would he put his newest girl in the posession of the feared Demon of Kirigakure? It failed to make sense. He was throwing a lamb into the lion's den, knowing full-well what the end result would be. The key was jammed rudely into its lock, allowing the knob to twist open, and with one thrust the door swung open. Zabuza stepped inside. Aah.. yet again something so nostalgically familiar. All of the rooms were designed the same, save for small differences one wouldn't even notice, whether it be the blankets a different color, paintings and tapestries on the walls, or the movement of a lamp or nightstand. They almost resembled hotel rooms. The walls were painted a creme color, except for the panes of the doors, which, like the doors, were wood. Leading out onto a small balcony was a set of doors, windows with handles on them, barely visible behind red silk curtains. And beyond the balcony resided the outside world, in all its bitter, bloody glory.
Only when he heard the door click closed again did he glance back at his companion for the night. Her expression was not cheery, thank God. However, on the same token, it could not be considered 'afraid'. No, nervous would do well, and naturally unsure. There was still innocence in this one. She could look him in the eyes without any qualm.
What a delicate flower she was, no doubt completely untouched by the unforgiving hands of men. As always, there was one thing about these women that irked him, something he addressed immediately:
"Take off that stupid mask."
She was confused. It showed, clearly, in her expression, the way the corners of her lips sloped slightly downward, and her eyes widened, thin brows shifting together. An amused chuckle rose in his throat. He closed the gap between them, lifting both hands to the little girl's face, fingertips resting barely on each cheek. Outlined against the bandages was a smirk. Again he tried; "The makeup. Get rid of it."
The room was dark; a switch resided on the wall to the left of the door, but neither had bothered to flick it on yet. The room was very spaceous. Wood floors, a wood-framed bed--the furniture was all created out of this building resource. There were two other doors here. Further into the room, built into the wall to the right of the bed, was a closet most likely. The other was closer to the entrance; it was open, dark silouhettes of a commode, sink, and further in, a glass panel leading into the bath and shower. The bathroom easily compared to half the size of the actual bedroom. The girl quickly bowed her head, having finally understood his order now, and with a quick turn she hurried into the bathroom, closing the door. But the sound of rushing water could still be heard.
He allowed himself to be lost to this sound. Back pressed firmly against the wall, his head tilted enough to fixate narrowed eyes in that particular direction. It was soothing, the faucet, though it made him laugh inwardly that this was true. Water had always been on his side, whether he be swimming, or merely watching ripples die on the reflective surface. How long ago had it been since he'd last stood on the beach, staring out at the waves, musing as the sun's setting cast rays of orange and red out as far as he could see? And then the sun would disappear completely, leaving only darkness. Once-crystal waters turned black. Like a new world, night was, foreign and even dangerous.
The last time he'd stood on the beach, night did not have to fall to turn the water dark. And it was not dyed black, but deep crimson, drawn out by the tide only to be thrown back with brute force into the sand. The waves hammered at the beach, each time drawing back out, dragging with them the remaining proof that a violent battle had taken place here. The carnage would be spread along the ocean's bottom, for fish and other creatures this sea belonged to's enjoyment. In time not even bone would remain. Those whose lives had been thrown away? Only the water would recall their existence. How fortunate Zabuza was that he had not become one of these men.
Not that he had ever once considered he might have died there. No; they were all weak, lacking the will to survive. He was a warrior. A demon. To think even briefly that his life would be lost to worthless creatures like them? Hilarious.
The rush of the water was gone. It no longer filled his ears, and in turn his mind. Zabuza returned to that brothel, to that room, to the young companion returning from her task of scrubbing the artificial beauty off her face.
With the makeup gone, her true colors shone through without difficulty. She was a shy little thing, this girl, this .. child. Shy and innocent. Her eyes especially captivated him. So wide, doe-like by far, and they seemed always fixated upon him--even when his back was to her their presence could still be felt. Did she really hold no fear? Ah, but she was new, Gato had said. Just arrived that morning, leaving no time for the tales to be told. Again those lips pulled back into a smirk, pressed against tight wrappings. "Good girl."
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It stood to reason that his request took Haku by surprise. After all, the other women had made it sound as though without makeup, they were hideous--not that she agreed by any means. Maybe that was just how men viewed them? But why was this man the exception? Maybe they had been wrong? Misguided?
Not that Haku didn't obey. Yes, she should have been more grateful for the help everyone had given her putting it all on, but.. she really didn't like wearing it. In a way, it made her feel .. fake. So scrubbing off the makeup was something she did with haste. Gatou wouldn't want her to keep him waiting. He'd yell at her, going on about how rude she was, tell her she was doing a pathetic job, and how she was disgracing herself... But she didn't -mean- to mess up. She was new to this; did he really expect her to know everything right away? It was like a new world, this place, this brothel. A new home, and a new world combined. She was supposed to please any man who paid. Gatou had been clear on that fact. Please them!
So how exactly did one go about pleasing another? .. That, on the other hand, he hadn't explained very well. He'd avoided the subject like the plague. Always coughing, clearing his throat, averting his gaze.. then looking terribly cross, followed by mild yelling. But it was never really directed towards her. Any other girl who wandered by, it was like he purposely found something to get angry with them about. A distraction. He was a strange, yet silly man at times. Without answers, her mind had come up with one of its own: the customer would say what to do! That made perfect sense, didn't it? That was the perfect way to please someone, to do as they wished.
When finally the washcloth stopped its furious rubbing, she peeked into the mirror, examining her complexion carefully. No, not a speck of the so-called 'mask' remained. Not even eyeshadow, or lipstick. It had all been wiped away, the last bit of color swirling down the drain before the water was shut off. The cloth was folded neatly up and placed aside for later cleaning.
She pulled the door open. Instantly that brown gaze fell upon him; the man, the soldier assumedly. Instead of making himself comfortable, it seemed he'd been waiting for her to finish. Quietly, after flicking the light off in the bathroom, Haku slipped out into the actual room, silent footsteps carrying her back over to the one who had paid so much money for her.
"Good girl." The praise caught her off-guard. A little squeak followed closely behind a blush, but this only brought forth more amused chuckles, his entire body trembling from each eruption. Again those brows of hers furrowed. Out stuck her lower lip, just slightly. Barely enough to be noticed.
And somehow, he caught it. That towering form turned fully to face her. Before she could react, strong hands had found her cheeks; instinctively she flinched. But he didn't hurt her. His fingers curled, tips caressing the spot where the blush had been, until she could feel it returning fully. "What is your name, child?" His eyes bore straight into hers. They never moved, even as he lowered himself to his knees, lowering his height to her level.
A lump had risen in her throat. Her tongue, somehow, had dried up, and no amount of swallowing seemed to do any good. Was this fear? No. She did not fear this man.. So many things ran across her mind in that moment. So many feelings. Locked deep in her chest, her heart pounded furiously. "Ha..." The rest died. That thumb had found its way down to her lower lip. It ran along the smooth, rosepetal surface, meanwhile his eyes danced about in her own. He was waiting patiently for a reply. What was her name again...? Oh, that was right--! "..Haku... sir..."
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
So the little flower did in fact have a name all her own? Haku. What a lovely name it was, too. This girl had no idea what she was supposed to be doing. Furthermore, did it even occur to her what -he- was allowed--and had intended--to do to her? Mm...his mouth watered just looking at his newest prey. Hidden beneath layers of silk rested that body, a body he craved on an almost animalistic level. It was damn near unbearable! What was Gatou thinking, throwing this lamb into the lion's den, he found himself once more questioning. Was the old buffoon out of his mind? Not that Zabuza hadn't considered this before. For God's sake, the only thing the man did in life was run a whorehouse. Sure, it was one of the--if not absolutely the--best in the city, possibly country...but, it was quite perverse. Gatou had to be in his fourties, if not close to pushing fifty entirely. He catered to the sexual desires of frustrated men, especially young, with a well-trained crew of prostitutes worth every cent charged. What did that say about -his- sexual life? Did he even have one?
... Who in their right mind would want to touch that old bastard, anyway? The very thought was repulsive, and it wasn't entirely because the Momochi was as straight as they came. Not even Gatou's personality could be considered 'attractive'. He was a money-hungry, beady-eyed parasite, with a grin as annoying as his nasaly voice. Those glasses didn't do anything for his appearance, either. His eyes screamed untrustworthy. Any person with a half-functioning brain could tell that right off the bat. Granted, the man did know how to select his employees well. Where did he scrounge most of them up? These women weren't the average gutter trash. This one in particular proved it.
Where, indeed, had he found this little creature? Haku. It was baffling. Once more that craving struck, creating a thick crease between thin, barely existent brows. Now, now; no need to rush, came the mental scolding. The night was in its prime. Zabuza was no amateur when it came to hunting. This little rabbit would get her scare, soon enough, and the fun would begin. Until then...
Until then, there was no harm in acting. What did she see him as? What was the perception of those gentle eyes, full of unbridled purity, on a bloodsplattered soul? It intrigued Zabuza. It intrigued him, more than expected, more than anything had in the past... how long? Months, years? Hm, curious. He leaned forward, to peer closer into her dewy pools. Again digits caressed her cheeks, before slipping down to her shoulders. Yes...this little girl captured him, in a way he'd never been caught before. Even if he'd wanted, he couldn't leave, when he could hardly stand to look away. So pure. A low growl emitted from the depths of his throat. The distance between them was so small, against his her lips brushed; sending warmth burning straight through the bandages. "Mm.. Good girl.. Haku."
Beneath his hands he could feel her shoulders tense. The little rabbit was ready to flee, having sensed danger on the horizon. Why, then, did she not resist, as crafty hands slipped down and around her waist to remove the fastener; her obi? The clothing may have been beautiful, and quite expensive, but that didn't mean Zabuza cared for it. Once undone, he tossed it rather rudely off to the side somewhere. That had been the only true restraint. The kimono fell easily open, and the yukata below followed after the removal of a matching sash.
To his surprise, she was not nude underneath. Her chest was bare, but unlike most of the other females in the establishment, this one actually preferred to wear undergarments to conceal her .. lower regions. Naturally; they were far more private than the breasts. As for those, Haku was not flat-chested per se; they were quite small, but it was a quality of age, not underdevelopment. In time she'd grow.
For now, the lower body was ignored. His hands found her shoulders again, but this time they moved to her neck, fingers wriggling their way beneath the neckline of her displaced clothing, and with ease he brushed the thick material of both kimono and yukata off her form. It was a chain reaction; first her shoulders, then her arms and full chest were exposed, seconds passing before they were pooled around her feet.
One last article. If ever a moment where she might fight, this would have been it, most definitely. But once more she surprised him. When he knelt, her legs parted slightly, enough to allow him to slip her underwear down those slender little legs. There was so much he could have done in that instant, and for a split second each possibility raced through his mind, producing another low growl. She -was- a child, after all. It was no lie, it was no illusion. Her body was so young. It was--
--White. She was white, as her name informed. Pure. He started at her outer thighs, running each hand up along her newly-forming curves; and she lifted her arms obediently, watching through half-dazed eyes. Up her sides, to her youthful breasts, pausing to silently muse over her tiny pink nipples, then their direction changed. While one hand withdrew to rest on his knee, the other stroked down her flat stomach.
The more he studied her, a sickness began to grow within the pit of his being. Directly below her middrift he stopped. He couldn't will himself to go further, even if he'd wanted. What was this? What kind of stunt was Gatou trying to pull, selling him a brat? What a waste of good money, he irritatedly chided. That idiot'd hear about this in the morning, damnitall. He couldn't take her. --..Well, really, he -could-. There was nothing stopping him, not even his own guilt. What did he owe this girl, that he should spare her the torture, especially at such a young age? She was here, which automatically made her fair game. Suddenly, the urge for sex had withered and died for the night. As attractive as she were... It was gone.
His disappointment must have reflected in those normally cruel eyes, because she responded to it automatically, kneeling herself so that they were somewhat closer to eyelevel. She was frowning; worried? It was her boss's stupidity, not her own that had gotten them into this situation. Didn't she realize that? .. But the concern in her expression did not seem directed to her own state at all, or the possibility that Gatou might punish her in the morning. It was something.. deeper. In her eyes, he realized, he saw only himself. A brow quirked.
Did it not bother her at all, that she was naked in front of a man she had never seen before, and would likely never see again? When she finally spoke, it confirmed that no, she didn't seem to have noticed. "Are you well? Would you like a glass of water..?"
"Get dressed." This order, unlike the previous, was cold; it took her by surprise, in a different way entirely, to the point where he could have sworn she'd begun to tremble. But, obediently she snatched up her clothing, slipping into only her undergarments and the yukata, actually taking the time to fight with the sash until settling on a haphazard little bow. The kimono was, neatly, gathered up in her arms, to be placed with the obi--which was snatched up along the way--in a chair near the bed. All of this, he watched silently. She was not clumsy. Her hands appeared very nimble, yet she had trouble with properly dressing herself. Where -had- Gatou found this rare little gem? Certainly not in a place that pampered. It hadn't been overlooked that she did not fully dress herself; and, judging by her handiwork with her underclothing, it was less likely that she knew how to return the kimono and obi to its proper respectful state. To this, he chuckled. This would prove to be a very interesting night, Haku had already shown.
For a brat, she was easy to be around, not to mention easy on the eyes. With a grunt, Zabuza rose to his feet again, making his presence once more noticeable by stepping further into the room. The floorboards creaked unappreciatively beneath his weight, sturdy as they were. When the little girl turned back to him, it was with a deep bow, her hands clasped firmly together at her abdomen. "Nn?"
"Forgive me, sir. What is your name...?"
.. He'd not thought about that. Not from the beginning, not for a second. Introductions. How rude of himself. Poor girl; why hadn't she asked -sooner-? His left brow twitched. Those long, muscular arms lifted, to fold across his chest, and his head bowed. But once more she had managed to amuse him. Soft laughter, closer to chuckling than the true sound, but it held a slightly lighter note to it. Outsmarted, by a child. "Momochi Zabuza."
This would be an interesting night, indeed.
----End Chapter 2----