Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.
Author's Notes: Long, with plot, and updated before Monday was over! All of these things add up to equal success! (Unlike my math scores, which add up to a number too abmysal to contemplate.)
Big thanks to all who reviewed!
oOo
"Life is pain. Anyone who says differently is selling something." - The Princess Bride
oOo
This is a good couch, Hinata thought happily, sinking into soft black leather atop a thick pad. There were no cup-holders, despite Naruto's not-so-subtle hints, and the simple woodwork on the base matched the rest of the house perfectly. Not to mention it was really, really comfortable. Sitting on the couch was kind of like sinking into a cloud of soft butter.
Which, thinking about it, was kind of gross, but feeling it…
I will never move again, Hinata vowed, kicking off her shoes and snuggling up with a blanket and the remote. She was relatively sure she still had Return to Me in the DVD player, and after a day of shopping for a room that was half modernist and half color-vomit (not that there was always much of a difference) for a cat lady, she was ready to do absolutely nothing but sink into her butter couch and watch improbable, yet sweet, romance.
About the same time Minnie Driver was saying: "No, some of it we boil in Swiss water." Hinata was finally relaxing from her day. Her feet had even stopped aching a bit, which was a small miracle. Flats had been completely unpractical for the amount of walking she had done—next time she was wearing sneakers, she didn't care how it looked. Better yet, there was no cat smell in her apartment, which was doing wonders for her sinuses. She had been sneezing all day.
So, really, when the phone rang she mostly saw it as an inevitable failing of the universe at large.
Groaning, she groped for her purse, then her phone, then the little green button that unleashed her Aunts voice on her sensitive ear drums.
"Hinata! Darling! Just the girl I wanted to talk to!"
Good thing you called my phone then, Hinata thought. She sighed. "Hello, Aunt Elisa."
"Is that Hinata? Tell her we said hello!" Said a voice in the background, there was a general clamor of agreements for a moment, and Hinata winced. It was The Pack, the group of Aunts that ran the family with an iron fist and meddled in everyone's affairs. The hatred of The Pack was one of the only things she agreed on with her father.
If they were all together, and calling her, only misery awaited.
"Everyone says hello, Dear."
"Tell them I said hello as well, if you would," Hinata said, trying to keep polite and calm. Her heart thudded against her rib-cage in terror. The last time they had called, it had been to tell her everything she could do to improve her life—a three hour lecture on her faults and exact descriptors of how her mother had never been that way, followed by a list of orders that had her running around for a week. Saying no, arguing, those hadn't even been options.
And that had only been half of them together.
"I will," Aunt Elisa said. "Now dear, we've heard you're dating someone—"
"Auntie," Hinata interjected desperately. She was suddenly very glad that Naruto had to work tonight, so that she couldn't be convinced into handing the phone to him. Between Naruto and The Pack, she wouldn't have stood a chance. "I'm so sorry, but you've caught me at a bad time, and I don't have very long to talk. You know how much I adore talking to you, but…"
"Only a few minutes then? Perfectly understandable! We'll catch up another time."
"Thank you so much, Auntie. I would love that. I—"
"I'll just get straight to the point then, shall I? We've been discussing the Family Reunion. It's coming up so soon you know, and we would like you to decorate the room. Only a trifling project, of course. Three rooms and the hall and outside, all about large ballroom size except the hall—and the lawn is several acres of course. It'll be happening right outside the city! Doesn't that sound lovely? Now what we're thinking is something soft, delicate, but also powerful and moving and—are you writing this down dear?"
"Of course, Auntie," Hinata sighed, digging in her purse for pen and paper. She paused the movie, and settled in. "What else?"
Half an hour later, Hinata finally hung up the phone, finding small comfort in the fact that they had only managed to point out flaws one through sixty-eight before Hinata had managed to politely cut them off.
Her head started to pound.
"Yes, Auntie. Of course, Auntie. Sounds wonderful, Auntie," Hinata mimicked in high falsetto. She growled and turned on her movie again, the screen had gone black in her absence.
Not two minutes later, the phone rang.
This time, Hinata checked caller ID.
"Ino," she breathed in relief. "I'm so glad you called."
"Why? What happened?" Ino asked.
"The Pack called."
"Ouch."
"Yeah."
"Bad day?"
"Very?"
"Want to go to that new club with me tonight? It's supposed to get pretty interesting."
"Interesting is the last thing I want right now," Hinata sighed, wondering if she still had that ice-cream in the freezer. "Who's watching Holly?"
"Amanda—"
"No!" Holly screamed in the background. "She's anorexic and she's stupid and I don't like her!"
"Holly…"
"No way, Mom! I'm seven years old and have and IQ of two-hundred and one. I can stay home by myself!"
"No."
"You'll be crushing my confidence and disabling me for the rest of my life! Studies have shown that—"
"No."
"But—"
"No."
"Mom!"
"Bring her over here," Hinata interrupted, trying not to laugh. Ino may not have had an IQ of two-hundred and one, but she could get her way with anyone. "I'd love to have her. I haven't seen her in so long…"
"What about your bad day?" Ino asked, shushing an excited Holly. She was screaming that Hinata's house was a good idea, and that studies had shown…
I love that girl. "She'll make it better. Bring her over, it'll be fun."
"You're a Godsend," Ino squealed. "Twenty minutes?"
"Sounds good," Hinata said, smiling. "And you have fun tonight, okay?"
"Oh, I will."
oOo
Kabuto leaned casually against the wall—shoulders slouched, spine curved—idly sifting through a stack of stark white papers easily three inches thick. The papers held nothing of real importance. They detailed only the shipments of some items, their current food stock, the people in their employ, all the dirty secrets of every influential member of New York, and other trivialities. Uninteresting, especially when compared to the current of unease running through the dumb crowd of chattel currently taking up Snake's dance floor.
They were humans, most of them. They gave him a wide berth despite his open stance, not knowing why they felt uneasy around the slight man-child with his thick glasses and prematurely gray hair, and most of them not caring. To them, he was nothing but a wallflower his coworkers had dragged from his cubicle for a night out, unable to abandon his precious office work.
Nonetheless, none of the horde moved any closer to him than they had to.
Darting eyes surrounded by a sweat-slick face betrayed the nervousness of the blond woman dancing in the middle of the room, her hair pulled back into a high ponytail—owns flower shops, has a daughter—, and her tight, skimpy clothes barely preserving modesty. The walking tattoo billboard, the ink smeared from his rapidly developing waistline, had a nervous tic above his pierced eyebrow—steals TVs, other odd jobs, low-class basic criminal who started buying food with what he used to spend on tattoos—, and his oiled friend licked his chapped lips—offers the jobs, low class criminal, gives tips to police for extra cash, has a fat wife— almost constantly.
Kabuto made a note of the men. They looked as if they would be interesting eating for the bouncers.
"What do we have tonight?" Orochimaru murmured, his voice slightly muted through the Bluetooth. Kabuto adjusted it slightly, hoping for better quality. He wouldn't want to miss a nuance of expression Orochimaru might offer him because of faulty equipment. "Anything interesting?"
"Nothing," Kabuto replied, swiftly double-checking the room for anything out of the norm. They couldn't afford any mistakes, not with the Fox's hammer blow waiting for a slip. "Basic human chattel. Nothing of interest."
"Get started then. I'm hungry."
"Should I save any? A few may increase sales."
"One or two. No more."
"Yes, Sir."
He signaled Jerry, a balding Kappa at the bar, with a finger. Jerry nodded, moving to whisper in the two bouncer's ears. They were Gargoyles, huge, hulking beasts with dark skin and horns barely hidden by their afros. They smiled, and locked the door.
There were only two doors out, and the pounding music hid the sound of the heavy steel bolts sliding home into the main door perfectly. Fang—the imp in the booth—noticed and changed the song to something with a heavy bass beat and the lights to a harsh red.
Tapping his finger along to the beat—the same as a human heat at twice its normal rate, very fitting—Kabuto shrugged his shoulders and tapped the panel behind him. Dark wood slid away to reveal the only other exit, and he stepped in without a backwards glance.
The screaming started soon after, and he made a mental note to enter into the computer that their food stock had been replenished.
oOo
"Let me be," Ino sang, bouncing to the beat, trying to banish her feeling of unease to the back of her mind. There was nothing to be uneasy about. The music was decent, the bar was well-stocked, and the guy she was dancing with was extremely tasty. He was also extremely hands on, but a sharp smile had taken care of that and now he was being mostly good.
Not too good, though. That would have been boring.
Certainly not enough to make my hackles rise though, Ino thought. So what is it? I spotted a suspiciously pineapple shaped ponytail earlier, but lots of people wear their hair up, and I'm over him anyway. So…
She spun, swaying her hips, flashing a smile at Todd the Tasty when his hands grazed her shoulders to draw her back against him. She rolled—stumbled as the uneasy feeling became a sudden stab of fear. Something was not right.
The four-eyed wallflower in the corner stepped back where a wall should be, straight into shadow, glasses glinting farewell as he left. The music changed to a heavier beat, and the lights flashed red.
Ino corrected herself. Something was wrong.
"Todd," she shouted. "I'll be right back."
She slipped away before he could answer, jumping down from the raised stage and hurrying to the wall where that guy had disappeared. It was smooth, unmarked, but Ino had seen enough TV to know that meant nothing.
Someone screamed, high and terrified, and Ino whirled to see what was wrong. The bouncers were moving along the stage, but they looked different than they had before. They had been abnormally large when Ino had come in, thick ropes of muscle bulging under their tight shirts, but now they seemed even bigger—twice the size of everyone on stage, and moving through the crowd with swift efficiency. They each held a huge bag, and as they moved they cracked necks or heads, and plopped the body into the bag with practiced ease.
Obviously, this was not the night she should have gone out.
Some people were trying to run to the door, pulling frantically when they didn't open. Others moved to windows, smashing against them, but they did not break— the red strobe light flashed, blinding and horrible, the music pounding along with her heart.
Starting to panic, Ino turned back to the wood, running her hands along it, hoping the catch was somewhere close. Maybe it would just open, maybe they would take pity on her, maybe—maybe—
The wood was smooth, whole unbroken. The screams were getting softer, too many people dying too quickly to keep up the noise. Her hands shook, wondering if they were coming up behind her even now, hands raised and faces locked in a grin—
Click.
So soft, she barely noticed, but the door swung inwards and, sobbing, Ino forced her way in and slammed it behind her.
Something smashed against the thick wood, and her knees buckled. Her mind was a gibbering mass of terror, and her choked sobs stopped when her throat became too tight. There were things out there—not people, too big to be people—killing. For a wild second she wondered if she was on some show, but…
No. She couldn't be. The blood had been a bit too real, the terrors too close, the smell too strong.
If this was a joke, someone had a sick sense of humor.
Something sticky touched her hands, and Ino looked down and swallowed bile. There was blood leaking under the door. It hadn't been one of the afroed bouncers hitting the door after all, but a body.
Ino forced herself to shaky legs, and slapped her cheeks. She was Ino Yamanaka, and if these sick freaks thought she was going to let fear slow her down, then she was going to show them just what happened to people who messed with her. She had promised Holly she'd be back by midnight, and she was going to be back by midnight, and anyone who got in her way was on a one-way trip to Hell!
Fortified, Ino hurried down the hall. It was a nice hall, paneled in dark wood with thick carpet and dim lamps spaced every few feet, so that the shadows deepened nearly to blackness in between. Ino could admit that these spaces rather unnerved her, and she moved quickly from one patch of light to the next. Her breath rasped too loudly in the still air, and the hallway continued, unbroken, for a long time.
Just when she was wondering if there were other secret passages here too, a part of the wall slid back just ahead of her.
Ino pressed back against the wall and froze, right in the dark spot of the hall. A man emerged from the doorway, backing out slowly, and the door shut with a quiet hiss of wood on carpet. The guy stood there, watching it, and then looked exactly where she was hiding.
He smiled, glasses reflecting the dim light, and said "Oh, hello there. Lost?"
"Very," Ino squeaked, shuddering as her bare back hit the cold wall. The man stepped closer, and Ino tried to stop her legs from trembling. His presence made the hair on the back of her neck stand straight up, jitters dance along her nerves.
"Hmm… well. Should I escort you back to the party?"
"Is that silk?" Ino asked, gesturing to his shirt, and trying to peel herself off the wall. Her eyes flicked down the hall, and back to him. Focus on something else, she told herself, moving on to trying to decide if his shoes were real leather. If she even thought about what lay at the other end of the hall, she would probably pee herself. "I like your watch."
"Thank you," the man murmured, pulling back slightly. "But you didn't answer my question."
"Oh, right. If you could just show me out through the exit I would appreciate it. I've been walking for a while, and I would really just like to get home the fast way out. Sorry to butt in like this, by the way. I've kind of figured out I shouldn't be back here, but, you know, curiosity killed the cat…"
Wow, bad analogy.
"Satisfaction brought it back. Miss… Ino, wasn't it? Ino Yamanaka. You own a flower shop. You have a daughter. Holly Yamanaka. Correct?"
"Yeah," Ino said, fighting down a rising bubble of panic. This guy knew who she was, knew her daughter, probably knew where she lived—knew too much, in general. Between the massacre on the dance floor and the primal screech in the back of her mind to run… not a guy to cross, either. Best to play it dumb. "Sorry, I didn't catch your name."
His lips twitched, pale little slugs wriggling on a face that looked barely old enough for peach fuzz. His dark, expensive suit added a few years to his age, but not much. He couldn't have even graduated yet.
"Kabuto," he said, voice accented strangely sharp. "Just Kabtuo. Now, I'm going to ask you a question, and I prefer that you be very, very truthful with me, Ino."
"Sure," Ino said, trying to shuffle her feet sideways. A little closer, and she could drive the heel of her hand into his nose, maybe shove the cartilage and bone into his brain, and down the hallway…
"What did you see in there?" Kabuto asked, and his head tilted just enough that she could see his eyes. Frigid, black, calculating, eyes—just waiting for her to make a move so that he could snap her neck, feed her to the monsters slavering back at the club.
"Nothing," Ino said firmly, goosebumps rippling over her skin. "I didn't see anything."
"Didn't you?" His thumb brushed against her cheek, pulled back red. She wondered how she had gotten blood on her face, but refused to think about it. "Are you sure?"
Ino winced as a spike of pain shot through her skull, barely biting back a whimper. "I didn't see anything, Kabuto. Don't remember seeing anything, certainly. That must be punch."
Kabuto smiled, revealing bright, sharp teeth. He licked his thumb quickly. "Excellent! You remember that well. Maybe I'll drop by your flower shop sometime and see you and your daughter at work, hmm?"
The threat was clear, and Ino nodded vigorously. Her head felt like it was splitting in two, white-hot tunnels fingering through her brain in shafts of pain. "We—we always love new customers."
Kabuto laughed delightedly, seizing her arm and dragging her down the hall. "You're good! You're very good!" Cold air slammed against her almost as hard as the wet pavement as Ino landed outside, screeching as skin was scraped from her arms. "Go on then, Pet! And remember to keep me in mind."
Ino scrambled to her feet, running past the blazing lights of the warehouse, surprised to hear the thin thread of screams still coming from the doors. Surely it had been at least an hour since she had gone in?
She shook her head. It didn't matter. She was going to Holly, right now, and they were moving to Florida. They were never coming back here, not ever.
She turned onto the main street, legs almost failing her again as a cab rounded the corner. A cab. Home.
A hand covered her mouth, and the world went black.
oOo
Author's Notes: Bwahaha! Cliffy.
Please review, and let me know what you think!