project: fifty days
disclaimer: i do not own naruto, or the characters in it.
summary: "in fifty days, uchiha sasuke will be executed." for fifty days, she will visit him. for fifty days, he will fall steadily in love.
pairings: sasuhina, some naruhina
notes1: "sixth sense: i see dead people."
notes2: "scratch that, i see dead celebrities."
chapter: o4/5o
Naruto was a walking, talking contradiction.
To those who did not know him well, he seemed so simple—sickeningly naïve and dense, if anything. They only saw his blonde hair and his sun-kissed cheeks—"what a handsome boy," they whispered. They didn't realize that beauty remains skin deep, but scars dig even deeper. They only saw his blue eyes, filled with joy—"such lovely eyes," they would say. They did not see the loneliness hidden within. They would judge his sheepish grin, his blonde hair and blue eyes, without even getting to know him—those were the people that whispered about him, voices solemn and eyes wary; they knew nothing about him, but they judged cruelly and mercilessly.
Sometimes, Hinata hated them—she was sure that sometimes Naruto hated them, as well—but, most of the time, she pitied them.
They did not know what they were missing.
To those who knew Naruto well, he was an unpredictable ball of energy, wearing them down, relentlessly, until they fell for his charm. He burned so brightly; his eyes were filled with happiness and dreams and loneliness; he seemed to be constantly happy—the sound of his laughter was so joyful that it could cheer up the most miserable of people. He could be overbearing. He could be too loud. He could be rude and snotty. But there was something alluring about him; there was something more to him; he never silently judged and, because of that, people were drawn to him. He understoodpeople. He could listen and he could talk and he could understand.
He understood Neji—he understood the frustration her cousin had felt; he understood that Neji wanted nothing more than to escape—to escape his destiny. Naruto understood. He understood Gaara—he understood the loneliness the Kazekage felt; he understood that Gaara had wanted nothing more than to force others to feel the same loneliness—to understand the hatred he felt. Naruto understood.
He understood Sasuke.
He understood Hinata.
He understood everyone—and he did more than that, much more. He listened and he understood and then he helped. He told the truth, with no pity in his eyes. His words could be cruel, and his way of helping was often painful—but he helped nonetheless. She asked him why, one day, although in a more subtle manner. He'd smiled at her, raised an eyebrow, and said,
"Because I want to."
It would have been romantic for her to say, 'that was the day she fell in love with him,' but it wasn't. She fell in love with him long before that. She did not believe in love at first sight—that should be saved for fairytales and happily ever afters—but with Naruto, she was willing to make an exception.
Hinata fell in love with Naruto the moment she saw him.
.
.
"Have you seen blondie around, lately?" Kiba asked, over his ramen, chasing some noodles around the bowl with his chopsticks.
Hinata had invited her teammates around for lunch; Shino had politely declined, informing her that his father had asked to spend some quality time with him, but Kiba had agreed all too willingly. Normally, she would have spent hours slaving away in the kitchen, during the morning, and then served him something more extravagant, but she'd been distracted by Hanabi, who'd asked for some help training. She'd been overjoyed, happy that she'd been deemed strong enough to fight with her sister; and then her face had flushed as she'd realized her father would be watching. Hanabi had simply smiled bitterly and they had sparred.
Although it was pointless to take pride in trumping her younger sister, Hinata had been extremely happy when she'd won. Her father had then pointed out that it was hardly a victory and that he would have expected her to win anyway, seeing as she was a Chunnin.
She hadn't wanted to cook after that.
It didn't bother Kiba, anyway. He quite liked ramen and Hinata had already offered him one of her homemade cinnamon rolls. He'd already had two. She nibbled on her first cinnamon roll, almost halfway through—she usually ate slowly, but she'd been so preoccupied thinking of her training session that she'd slowed down even more.
She blinked at Kiba. "W—who?"
"Naruto," Kiba mumbled, finally scooping up the noodles—they'd put up a fair fight, but now he'd defeated them and it was time for them to go into his stomach. He grinned slightly, his eyes flicking up to Hinata. "I haven't seen him in ages, which is pretty weird, because he normally wants to train."
Hinata chewed on her food thoughtfully. Now that she thought about it, she hadn't seen Naruto around either—what was even weirder was that she'd barely thought about him, in the past few times; of course, she'd mentioned his name a few times to Sasuke, but that was it. She placed her roll back on her plate, folding her arms.
"H—he's probably at h—his apartment," she mumbled, biting her lip self-consciously. "I don't think he's b—been to see Sasuke, yet."
Her friend nodded. "Yeah, that's right. I heard he wasn't allowed to see Sasuke; they reckon he's too reckless and unpredictable, and who knows what it would do to Sasuke's health?" His voice turned bitter and mocking, as he stabbed at a noodle. "Who knows what would happen, letting a guy see his best friend? Who knows what'd happen, huh? Who knows?"
Hinata's eyes widened slightly.
"I thought y—you didn't like Sasuke."
Kiba arched an eyebrow, perfectly. "…I don't—but I like Naruto. The moron's probably tearing himself up about it, hating Sasuke and loving Sasuke in equal measure. He probably wants to kick the shit out of the Uchiha and he probably wants to give him a great big hug. It ripped them apart. It ruined Team Seven—left a big grey cloud hanging over their heads—because they all loved Sasuke. I don't know much about adding and subtracting, and all that complicated school stuff, but I know love when I see it."
"Imagine if it were us in their position, Hinata," he continued, inspecting a noodle idly and not meeting her gaze. "Imagine if Shino left—imagined if Shino turned bad; if he got swallowed up by greed and power and hatred—imagine if he left us and we fought for so long to get him back. Then, all of a sudden, he's back, but we're not allowed to see him anymore. This guy, who we loved, but hated for leaving; imagine if we weren't allowed to see him anymore and ask him, 'why weren't we good enough?' What would I be doing, huh?"
He broke off. Hinata realized she was holding her breath, her eyes wide; it wasn't like Kiba to suddenly speak up like this. He tended to keep out of other's affairs—"do I look like a meddler to you?" He'd told her—and it wasn't often that he felt such sadness for another person; he tended to keep to himself, much like Shino.
"I'd be beating myself up. I'd be angry and frustrated and wondering. I'd want to know why—why'd he leave, why'd he get caught, why'd he do it in the first place; why weren't we good enough? I'd want to know," for a second, he seemed frightened, like he'd said too much. "I'd be feeling… awful. Me and Naruto are a lot alike, when it comes to friends and family, and then sometimes we're really different—Naruto's going to be wanting a friend right now, and not Sakura, because she's feeling the exact same way."
Kiba looked pointedly at her. In a way, his eyes reminded her of Sasuke's—they were smaller and sharper though; inviting and friendly; but they were just as intelligent and knowing. They looked at her and they saw. They understood.
And now they were trying to help.
Her face split into a gentle, loving smile and Kiba visibly relaxed, heaving a sigh of relief; she chuckled softly, covering her mouth with the palm of her hand. He was much more like Naruto than he thought.
"Jeez, for a second there, I thought you weren't going to get it; I'm really bad with words," he mumbled, tipping back his head and slurping down the rest of his (now cold) ramen. He looked at her, his cheeks bulging, and she found him so charmingly wonderful that she could not help but laugh. He eyed her warily, before finally joining in.
They laughed together, her with her cinnamon rolls and white eyes, him with his red tattoos and empty bowl. They were two of a kind, friends 'til the end, they were part of the big family that was Konoha, and no one gets left behind.
And that's how they rolled.
Hinata attempted to calm herself down, smothering her slightly nervous giggles with her hands, and watched as Kiba let out a deep sigh—when they were both finally silent, she looked at him. "Is this w—why you agreed to come to m—my house for lunch, then?"
He waved a hand airily. "Nah, it's just one of the many reasons I'd want to visit someone like you." He lifted his right hand, ticking off his fingers as he spoke. "Number one, you're gorgeous and don't you deny it. Number two, I can't cook for shit. Number three, Hana can't cook for shit either. Number four, Naruto could do with a friend right now. And, number five, you're my best mate."
He paused, before smirking.
"Plus, you have a nice rack."
Hinata's cheeks flushed pink. "K—Kiba!"
He held his hands up in surrender, chuckling to his self, all the while still grinning. "Hey, I'm just telling it like how I see it. You're a sweet girl, Hinata—why wouldn't I want to come to your place? You're the best looking thing in Konoha, except for me, of course, but it's impossible to beat me; you should still feel proud, though."
Kiba winked.
Hinata's blush darkened until her face became tomato red; she fidgeted with the edge of her jacket, shuffling nervously; but, despite her embarrassment, she couldn't stop herself from smiling. He returned her smile, standing up and moving his bowl over to the sink—he washed it quickly underneath the tap, not bothering to use soapy water, and then dried his hands on his trousers.
"A—are you going to come w—with me, to see N—Naruto?"
"No chance," Kiba scoffed, shaking his head repeatedly. "Like hell would I do anything as girly as that—and if you say it was my idea, I'm telling everyone you still sleep with a baby blanket."
"You said—y—you said you wouldn't tell a—a—anyone!"
.
.
Deep in the middle of Konoha's forest, Sasuke cried out in pain as a fist connected with the side of his cheek—he swung sideways from the force of the hit; his entire cheek throbbed and he knew he'd have a nasty bruise there. He'd been removed from his chains; instead, he'd been tied to a chair, facing the glass window—they'd removed his straightjacket and tied his hands beneath his back, and he felt strangely vulnerable—he felt naked, sat there in a black shirt and basic black shinobi shorts, blindfolded and restrained.
Tsunade leaned forwards (and, behind him, Ibiki moved back into the shadows), resting her elbows on the table in front of her and linking her hands together. "Uchiha, I'll ask you only one more time," she murmured, her voice soft and low and deadly. "Where is the Akatsuki hideout?"
He turned to face her, his hair sticking to his forehead, sweat dripping down his body. He shrugged one shoulder wearily, smirking slightly, "I have no idea what you're talking about."
The older woman tilted her head. "…isn't that a shame, then?"
There was a movement from somewhere to his left, and then Ibiki's fist seemed to come out of nowhere—it hit his left eye, forcefully, painfully, and lights flashed behind Sasuke's closed eyes. Ibiki turned and brought his elbow smashing down into Sasuke's shoulder—he yelped despite himself, as the pain shot through his body, and instinctively pulled against his bonds. He heard Ibiki tug out his kunai—heard the whistle as the blade sliced through the air—and then suddenly his fingers felt like they were on fire.
"Stay still, Uchiha, and take it like a man."
He bit his tongue, drawing blood, in an effort to stop himself from crying out again—he wouldn't give them the satisfaction. He gasped in a huge breath, before wiggling his fingers gingerly; Ibiki hadn't sliced them off, despite the fact that it had felt like it—instead, he'd sliced into them, cutting deeply into Sasuke's skin. He felt the blood trickle down his palms, dripping to the floor steadily.
For a few seconds, he simply listened to that steady noise—the drip, drip, drip of his blood and the thump, thump, thump of his heart. He listened and everything became okay; Ibiki's taunts faded to nothing and he was barely aware of Tsunade's piercing gaze; all he knew was that if he waited for long enough, they'd go.
And she'd come.
He felt the cool of a blade press against his lips—thin and sharp—a senbon, he guessed. Ibiki dragged it down his chin, leaving a shallow cut in its trail; it continued down his neck, forcing him to cringe away, and the down his chest, slicing easily through the fabric of his top. It was gentle. He could almost forget it was there.
Then Ibiki stabbed the senbon swiftly into his hip. Sasuke jerked forwards, pressing his lips tightly together and refusing to make a sound. He heard Ibiki tut. He heard the sound of a second senbon being removed. There was the same taunting descent, down his leg this time, except Ibiki pressed down harder—and then, finally, the senbon was stabbed mercilessly into the side of his ankle.
And so the game began. A taunting descent, followed by a sharp stab of pain, and then fighting not to make a sound; over and over, occasionally punctuated by a punch or a slap; every now and then, Tsunade would sigh loudly and he would be reminded that she was still watching silently.
He hated her.
"Remove the blindfold."
Ibiki complied, yanking it ruthlessly from Sasuke's face and taking a few strands of hair with it. Obsidian eyes gazed into amber. Tsunade's face was carefully blank. "You are a traitor, Uchiha Sasuke. You cannot escape your fate, no matter how much your friends beg. You are condemned to death. This is inevitable. Will you not do something for your village—a final act of heroism, perhaps?"
"…I'm not a hero."
Tsunade snorted, straightening slowly. She gestured at the senbon. "Thirty-two, Uchiha. Ibiki, I wouldn't waste them on a lowly criminal."
"I wasn't planning on it, Lady Hokage."
"Return him to his earlier restraints, Ibiki, and be careful. That boy may be scum, but he is still an Uchiha and an S-rank criminal," she walked briskly towards the door, glancing back over her shoulder for a second.
Sasuke met her gaze easily.
"I pity you, Uchiha. You had it all. You lost it so quickly."
He simply smiled.
"That's what you think."
.
.
It took Hinata almost ten minutes to work up the courage to knock on the door of Naruto's apartment—she stood there for a while, hovering on the doorway, blushing and feeling faint. She was nervous and she wished that Kiba had decided to come with her; she didn't think she'd be able to go through with it.
"N—Naruto is my friend," she mumbled to herself, glancing apprehensively at the door. "I can d—do this for him. Kiba w—wants me to."
So, with that thought fresh in her mind, she knocked gently on the door, exactly three times. There was a scuffle from within, as though someone had fallen over something, and then the smash of a plate breaking—she heard curses, before, finally, the door opened and Naruto grinned at her, breathless.
He was everything Sasuke wasn't. He was taller than he used to be, back in the academy—back then, they were around the same height; now, he towered over her. His hair was longer, as well; longer than it had been when they were younger; it was still so messy but it seemed natural for it to be messy. It was normal. Just like how the three scars—whiskers—on his each of his cheeks were normal. She blushed slightly—he was wearing a white tank top and black boxers, and he was ridiculously underdressed; she could practically see his toned stomach rippling beneath the white fabric.
She felt dizzy.
One look into Naruto's eyes changed all of that—although he was beaming at her, his eyes were different. They seemed distant—detached, as though nothing around him had anything to do with him, anymore—they were dull; once, they had been as bright as the sky and shone like precious jewels. Now, their colour had faded. Their sparkle was lost. They looked dead, to her. The Naruto she adored was elsewhere, lost in a different world—lost in his thoughts—and he needed help getting back.
He needed help understanding.
"Hinata!" He scratched the back of his neck sheepishly, gesturing down at himself (and her eyes lingered on his legs for just a fraction too long). "If I'd known you were coming around, I would have gotten dressed and, uh, tidied up."
"I w—wanted to surprise you," she smiled at him, pressing her fingers together. "M—may I come i—in?"
Naruto stepped to the side, leaning against the door and flourishing wildly with one hand. "Welcome to my humble castle, pretty princess," he grinned, and she stepped past him, blushing furiously—pretty princess? Sakura was pretty—she was not. "Make yourself at home. D'you want anything to eat or drink? I think I have some ramen and possibly some coffee…"
"A c—coffee would be n—nice, p—please."
He swung the door shut behind her. "That's one coffee, coming right up," he said, bustling away and into the kitchen; he scooped up a few mugs, left on the draining board, and rinsed them through, before placing them on the side. She stood uncertainly next to the door as he flicked on the kettle, unsure of whether she should leave him or not—when he turned to face her, leaning against the counter and folding his arms, she decided to say.
He shrugged a shoulder. "It's a small castle, I'll admit, but it's decent. I'd have cleaned up, of course, if I knew, but right now, it's a mess. Its loads smaller than your house—I bet you actually do live in a castle, right?"
Hinata shook her head, giggling nervously. "Uhm, n—not quite. The Hyuuga House is m—more like a group of buildings. The M—Main Building is p—pretty big, I guess, but most of it is u—used for meetings and a—as training r—rooms. You c—could come over and have a l—look, if you wanted t—to."
Naruto beamed at her. "I will do, sometime—thanks, Hinata!" His smile faltered briefly, his mask slipping off his face. "…Oh, you're here about that date, aren't you? Because I swear, I wanted to go, but things happened, and we can always rearrange, can't we?"
He smiled gingerly.
"I'm n—not here about the d—date…"
He let out a sigh of relief and Hinata felt a pain in her chest. He was happy he didn't have to go on a date with her. Oh God, she should have known. She wasn't Sakura or Ino. She didn't get dates with boys. It had been a pity date. She should have known it was too good to be true.
'Naruto is your friend,' her mind reassured her. 'You know full well he didn't mean it like that. You're here to help out a friend, anyway—forget your date. That's history. This is what's important now.'
"I'm here to t—talk about Sasuke."
Naruto stiffened. His face became blank. He turned away from her, moving back to the coffee—spooning in some coffee, lifting the kettle up methodically, pouring in the boiling water, and then stirring. Nonstop stirring. She heard the chink of the metal spoon hitting the side of the mug, over and over again.
"You n—need to talk to someone, Naruto. You c—can't keep these feelings hidden i—inside you. I'm your friend. You can t—talk to me."
There was no response. He continued stirring, moving the spoon to the second mug, and then stirring again. She could see the muscles straining in his back, as he stood taut and rigid, refusing to look at her, refusing to respond, refusing to acknowledge her.
She narrowed her eyes.
"I understand."
She watched as Naruto tensed, his hands shaking, and, inside, she smiled slightly. She was getting a reaction. She was getting somewhere.
"How? How can you understand? What have you been through, which is even remotely like this?" Naruto snapped, but he still didn't turn and she could still hear the chink of the spoon hitting the inside of the mug. "Sasuke wasn't just my best friend. He was—he is—my brother! And they've locked him up in some dirty prison, and thrown away the key—they've condemned him to death, Hinata! He's going to be rotting in some prison and he'll think I've forgotten about him! I won't see him again until he's in a coffin. You barely know Sasuke. How can you understand? You don't understand!"
She folded her arms, summoning all of her courage, and forced her face to go blank. "Then make me, N—Naruto—make me understand."
The stirring stopped. He placed the spoon gently down on the counter, picked up one of the mugs and handed it to her. He couldn't meet her eyes.
"Your coffee, Hinata. It's hot."
"Thank y—you, Naruto," she took it from him, stepping to the side as he left the kitchen, abandoning his own coffee on the counter. She glanced back at it, sighed, and then followed him through the door and towards a battered old chair. He pointed at it. "You can sit there. I'll stand."
She complied, sitting down slowly and placing her coffee on the table beside her. Naruto watched her, her words echoing in his head.
(then make me, Naruto)
Hinata had a gentle face. That's probably what he liked most about her; sure, she was aesthetically pleasing in over areas, but it was her face that he liked most. She had soft features and a sisterly smile. In his opinion, her eyes were such a pale lilac that they were almost white—almost as white as snow; he wondered, briefly, if it was the light, or the rest of her features, that made them seem lilac. He decided it didn't matter. Her eyes were kind enough; they were open and honest and they wanted nothing more than to help.
(make me understand)
He opened his mouth.
"I thought I hated Sasuke, when I first met him. I thought I hated his smirk and his pretty boy looks and his snobby attitude. I thought I hated how perfect he was. I guess, looking back, I didn't really hate him. I was younger then and stupidly naïve—it wasn't hatred. It was a grudging respect, bordering jealousy. I looked up to him. I admired him so much. But his bratty attitude, and the fact that he was constantly looking down on me, made me strive to beat him. I think he didn't really hate me, either. I think it was the same for him, as it was for me. We saw each other as rivals. We saw each other as brothers. For Sasuke—for me—there wasn't that much of a difference.
"We grew closer and closer, more like brothers every single day. I really liked him, back then; he was genuinely like an older brother to me, and I hadn't really known family before him and Sakura. We got so close that soon we didn't have to say anything, or do anything, to tell how the other was feeling—we just knew. I could tell if Sasuke was happy or sad, from the way he punched me, when we sparred. I could tell if he was lonely from his walk. I could tell when he was amused. I knew him so well, that I knew what he feared, what he liked and disliked. I knew him so well that, when he left, my world was shattered. Because, of all the things I thought he'd do, I never thought he'd do that."
Naruto stopped, shrugging lazily and smiling bitterly. "But what can you do? Everyone surprises me, sometimes. I think I know most people and then they blow me right off track. When you confessed to me, when we battling Pein, I never would have thought someone like you could love me. I should've—back then—I wish I'd—"
Hinata held up a hand. "This is a—about Sasuke, Naruto." She smiled gently, and he returned her smile, sheepishly.
"Right, right; sorry. I guess I thought Sasuke liked it here. I thought we meant more than that to him. I didn't know him as well as I thought I did. But I still loved him—that's why I promised, to Sakura, to myself, to everyone, that I'd get him back. I don't care that it wasn't me who's brought him back—sure, it stings a little bit, but I was just happy he'd gotten back. I thought, 'the moment I see that bastard, I'm going to ask him what's up? And things will go back to normal.' I was wrong. Turns out we aren't even allowed to see him. Turns out he's going to die, after forty-five days. Turns out the clock is ticking for Sasuke, and time is running out. Turns out he's going to die lonely and I'll never get my answers."
Naruto stared at her, his blue eyes filled with sorrow. "Do you get it? You can't understand, Hinata, because you don't know him like I do. And now you'll never get the chance to." He sucked in a deep breath, pointing at her coffee cup. "…are you done with that?"
She nodded.
He scooped it up, slopping some of the contents down himself, and walked back into the kitchen. Hinata watched him leave, her heart aching. She wanted to tell him, so badly—she wanted to tell him that she did understand because she was beginning to understand him; she was beginning to understand Sasuke. But if she told him, Sasuke really would die a lonely, tragic death.
She was going to have to keep it a secret.
She stood up slowly, mentally preparing herself, and walked towards the kitchen, stumbling over a wastepaper bin on her way. She stepped through the door. Naruto was leaning over the sink, hunched over, his shoulders shaking—she could see his knuckles were white. He was sobbing silently, shaking.
Hinata walked over to him and placed her arms around his waist.
She felt him stiffen and then relax, one hand reaching up to bat away the tears. She rested her head against his back, feeling his warmth, smelling his smell, and smiled sadly. "You're right, N—Naruto. I'll never u—understand what you're going t—through. But I'll always b—be there for you, because I l—love you."
His breathing slowed.
"You're… you're a nice girl, Hinata."
.
.
"Uchiha Sasuke isn't in the best of shape, right now, Hinata," Ibiki informed her, as she followed him. She was beginning to get used to ignoring the calls of the prisoners around her, despite the fact that she wanted to try and help them. "The Hokage called by earlier—she wanted some information. He… didn't cooperate."
He pushed open the door to Sasuke's prison cell.
Hinata stepped inside. Everything seemed to be normal, she noted; the ANBU were still skulking in their opposite corners, Sasuke was in his usual straightjacket, and the flowers she had brought a few days ago were scattered across the floor, the vase missing. She turned to Ibiki, frowning slightly. "M—my vase is g—gone."
Ibiki's lips twitched into a dark smile; it sent shivers down her spine and made the hairs on her arms stand up. He bowed jerkily. "My apologies, Hinata—I smashed it over the Uchiha's head."
She gaped, searching Ibiki's face for any signs to show he was joking. He didn't appear to be and, if he was, it wasn't a very nice joke anyway.
"I can replace it."
That settled it—he definitely wasn't joking. Hinata whirled around, hurrying over to the glass window, placing his palms against it and inspecting Sasuke—at a first glance, he appeared to be okay; he usually didn't look up at her, until Ibiki had left the room, and she suspected that this time was no different. But as she looked closely, she noticed that parts of his straightjacket were stained red. His hair clung to his forehead in matted clods—matted with sweat or blood? She could barely tell.
He groaned weakly.
She turned to Ibiki, alarmed, only to find that the older man had left. She glanced at the two ANBU, turning to the one with the bear mask. "I—is he okay? Shouldn't we s—send for a medic nin?"
Bear-mask laughed. "Hyuuga Hinata, this man is a traitor. He shall be treated as any traitor would be. In fact, he is worse than a traitor. He deserves a slow and painful death."
"H—he's done nothing wrong!"
"He was part of the Akatsuki," rabbit mask stated, blankly. "He was found wearing their cloak. He attacked a shinobi from Kumogakure. He killed Uchiha Itachi. He could very well have orchestrated the attack on Konoha that ended up with you, among others, getting injured. He no doubt plans to destroy Konoha himself. He probably plans on killing Uzumaki Naruto, one of Konoha's finest heroes."
Hinata opened her mouth to speak, but Sasuke beat her to it.
"…finest heroes, huh? Last time I heard, you… you were still calling him a monster."
The two ANBU spluttered and hissed, but Hinata ignored them; she whirled around, turning to face Sasuke, and instantly gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. His poor, beautiful face! His skin seemed even paler, contrasting perfectly with the ugly bruise on his right cheek. The bruise was sickeningly big; it seemed to cover the entire right side of his face, a disgusting splatter of yellow, purple and brown. A thin trail of blood dribbled from his left eye; the dried blood had crusted his eyelashes together, and that eye stayed closed, useless and pathetic. Ibiki had split his lip, as well.
The horror on Hinata's face was almost perfect—if it didn't hurt so much, Sasuke would have laughed. Instead, he settled for a smirk.
"You're staring."
Hinata ignored him, turning back to the ANBU, furious. "He n—needs a medic; look at his face. What if he's g—gone blind?"
Bear-mask scoffed. "You care too much. You forget he is a prisoner."
"He's still a p—person!"
The ANBU shook their heads, simultaneously, and then rabbit-mask moved towards the door—his companion followed him, shutting the door silently behind them. Hinata watched them leave, mouth opening and shutting, unsure of what to do. Sasuke looked mildly amused.
"…'s okay."
She shook her head. "It i—isn't!"
"I'm a criminal."
"You're m—my friend."
"I barely know you."
"I k—know you better than y—you think."
He tilted his head, wearily. "Really…?"
She nodded.
"Then go ahead, 'friend'. Try and convince your beloved Hokage that I shouldn't be interrogated."
"You're d—drug dependent, Sasuke. Your eyes—eye—are unfocused. Y—you could end up b—blind. Those cuts c—could be infected. You deserve to be t—treated better than this. None of the o—other prisons are like this, and they're all S-rank c—criminals, too. Lady Tsunade is b—being too unfair. I shall talk to h—her."
"Sleep on it."
"W—why?"
"You might change your mind in the morning—about everything. Don't go rushing anything. I don't want… I like having a visitor."
Hinata smiled slightly. "O—okay…"
"Tell me something about you, to take my mind off… things."
Hinata raised an eyebrow, before chuckling slightly as Sasuke shrugged. "Okay then, S—Sasuke," she paused, attempting to think of an interesting enough story, and then smiled sheepishly. "It involves N—Neji."
"Even better."
She laughed, before moving over to the table, sitting down in the chair that the Hokage had sat in, just hours before. "Neji and I n—never used to get along, b—because he's from the branch clan, w—whereas I'm the main clan; he b—believed that it was an inescapable d—destiny of his, that he'd always h—have to do our bidding. Now, he knows better; h—he's actually going to be the head of the H—Hyuuga family—but, about after the C—Chunnin exams, just when he started to l—like me, we went on a m—mission together. Nothing serious; a B-ranked, assassination mission; we had to kill a n—nobleman, who had fallen into gambling and d—debt, and had murdered many p—people. Lady Tsunade e—explained to us that the man we were going to k—kill was a notorious pedophile. He t—tended to like exotic twins."
"That's quite a preference."
Hinata laughed again, her voice sounding almost musical—Sasuke decided he liked her laugh. "It is, isn't it? N—Neji wasn't too against it; h—he said it was all part of being a shinobi, and t—took it like a man. It didn't take u—us long to get there; the brothel was just to the s—south of Kumogakure. It was the d—dirtiest place I had ever been in. It was e—extremely embarrassing, for me; p—poor Neji. Ino got to pick h—his outfit; I think she had her r—revenge for him not being attracted to h—her. She made him wear f—fishnets and the shortest kimono I've e—ever seen and h—h—hooker boots."
Sasuke's smirk widened and he ignored the fresh pang of pain which came from his stinging lip. Hinata was obviously enjoying herself, despite her earlier concern.
"Neji and I infiltrated the p—place easily, armed with a c—couple of senbon and a k—kunai each," Hinata continued, chuckling at the memory. "I remember, Neji was t—trying his hardest to be serious and kept h—hitching his skirt down, at the b—back. We found the man and he l—liked Neji much better than me; bearing in m—mind, we were only thirteen, or fourteen. It was h—humiliating, for Neji; he kept groping him and calling him b—babe. I was almost in h—hysterics. He took us into the bedroom and suddenly p—pinned Neji against the wall, pulling at his k—kimono. Neji overreacted."
"…what did he do?" Sasuke asked, before he could stop himself.
Hinata smiled brightly. "Neji slit his t—throat open."
The Uchiha gazed at the Hyuuga; there was a moment in which they simply stared at each other, content with the silence—and then Hinata began to giggle, softly, smothering the noise with her hand, and Sasuke chuckled slightly as well.
And, once they started laughing, they just couldn't stop.
Despite all of his cuts and bruises, and broken bones, and his left eye, Sasuke was content. Hanging there, hurting, he was happy. He was happy to talk to someone as kind Hyuuga Hinata.
"Fifty days will shoot by."
Hinata glanced up, her giggles dissolving into hiccups. "Did you s—say something, S—Sasuke?"
He smirked.
"No."