The Hand of Lady Hyuga

Chapter Five

The Imperial Court was on fire. Kabuto Yakushi could honestly say that he had never seen the capital so boisterous or fanatic in all his years involved with the Senju Clan… and he had been involved with the Senju for most of his life. There were sounds of rabid party blowers in the distance, rambunctious drinking parties already well on their way (and it was yet to be the afternoon), and several people… "getting it on" in the Lady Hyuga's honour? As ridiculous as it was, he found himself suddenly wanting to visit a whorehouse himself. The mood was just that contagious.

And dangerous, he noted with dry humour.

Upon the arrival of the Lady Hyuga, whole streets in the city had been blocked off and nothing short of a national holiday erupted in a matter of moments. He should know. He had been there. Standing on the city's defence towers, just to the side for the perfect view of the sun-red city gates, he had watched, with almost bated breath (despite himself) when the Hyuga retinue arrived in their sombre black and white robes, tall flags and stately carriages.

There had been no fanfare. There hadn't been a need for a fanfare; their very existence was enough of a calling card. Their white eyes. Their black hair. The crest of the Hyuga Head, and the crowd that had gathered around the gates, flooding the streets and hanging by the roofs of various buildings, exploded in a mishmash cry of noise and colours and movement. Women had burst into tears. Men had fallen to their knees. They had all been so overcome with emotion that Kabuto had felt himself shake at the energy, unable to hold back his own overwhelming awe.

They had called out her name.

"Hinata Hyuga!"

They had showered her with roses and laurel wreaths.

"Hinata Hyuga!"

They had lowered themselves onto their knees to pray for her.

"Hinata Hyuga!"

Restaurants had passed out free samples of their creations: dim sums, hors d'oeuvres, appetizers! Pastries threw gift pouches into the overenthusiastic crowds: cookies, petit fours, gold painted chocolate truffles! Artisans gave out their wares: portrait sketching, handcrafted bracelets, spun glass! Wine shops filled the cups of passersby's to the brim: champagne, red, white, sake! Children ran free in the streets singing the National Anthem and handing out stocks of wildflowers they had picked that morning!

It had all been wild and chaotic and free, so very free – without care or inhibitions or fear. Even the police and firemen had been handing out balloons and brownies (of all things)! And despite all that raw energy and excitement, no one had been trampled. No one had been hurt. No one had dared to lay an unlawful hand on anybody. It had been so strange, yet so welcoming. It was as if, in that one moment, in that glimpse of her carriage, utopia had been found.

And despite her never being seen, despite her staying in her carriage, despite her being there had not been proven with their very eyes, they had all known that she was there. They had known that she was before them. They had known that she was real and had graced them with her being, if only for a moment. No one had dared to touch the Hyuga retinue. No one had dared to crowd the carriage. No one had dared to fling themselves into the vehicle to touch her.

They had been happy enough to just be in the same vicinity as her, and had found themselves without anymore wants in the world. It had been like everything had fallen into place and that life was complete and happy and full of love. It had all been… just very perfect.

And as the carriage had continued onto its course towards the Imperial Palace, the crowd growing wilder along the way as if they were watching a parade, Kabuto had had to closed his eyes for a moment and curl into himself to push back the erratic feelings of being a child again, of wanting to run into the fields to cry ecstatically out into the sky of his joy and awe and bursting satisfaction. It had been absurd. It had been ridiculous. But he had not been able to deny that the feeling had been quite adamant and that he had cherished that one second of freedom he had felt…

And then he had remembered his duties and he was able to compose himself; the faint scent of peonies lingering on his nose.

In truth, there had been so much hype around her person that Kabuto had grown wary, had believed that he'd be disappointed once he was to finally lay his eyes upon her. And when those doors had opened… and she had stepped into the Throne Room… and she raised those eyes to the Empress…

He had not been disappointed. She had overcome all his hyperbolic expectations and then some. She was pretty, and delicate, and fragile – like spun glass in candlelight. She was everything Hyuga and everything not Hyuga. Her simple style of dress, her bare essentials of ornamentation, her Hyuga Crest… It was in the way she had appeared physically like any other woman on the street, but spiritually she had carried herself as the most powerful being in the room and, knowing so, she had nothing to fear and nothing to doubt and nothing to hesitate. She was untouchable, and she knew it, and they knew it, and everybody knew it.

She was perfect.

He supposed it had been love at first sight.

He chuckled dryly to himself then. It was foolish to think that it had been love at first sight – when it hadn't been first sight. The first time he had seen her was five years ago, when the strip of land between Konoha and Kumu had been reduced to nothing but mud, and blood, and discarded limbs – of skeletal fingers as poor imitations of the lush forests that had once stood a decade before.

For over ten years, the war had destroyed some of the greatest ninja to have ever lived, and lowered womankind back to the days when there had not been cities or manners or civilizations… or hope. Devastated, disillusioned and discarded – Kabuto recalled that there had been no more "Konoha" or "Kumo" or what it meant to be a part of something greater, a part of a kingdom worthy of fighting for. There had been only death. There had been only destruction. There had been only killing or be killed. The definition of "human" and "mercy" and "sympathy" had long been abandoned in the screams and tears and the helpless pleading of, "P-Please I-I h-have a f-f-family a-and-," only to be sliced off and being mindful that said "f-f-family" was nowhere to be found for vengeance.

For over ten years, for over 3650 days, for over 87658 hours, the Konoha ninja had only known darkness and despair and not-breathing, and the need to search for something more than just this… this grey and nothingness… this endless ending of ends. And ten years had been too long. 3650 days had been too long. 87658 hours had been too long.

It had seemed that they were all going to perish, Kabuto remembered, seemed like it would never end, stopped caring about living… until her.

Hair of a reaper's cloak, dark and lashing in the wind and rain – eyes of a ghost, white and cold in the cloud and mist – the young woman-child had stood upon an upended stone crevice, the perfect porcelain figure to mark out the countless nameless graves buried in the savage battlefield – hundreds of faceless ninjas who had cried for help, who had prayed for salvation, who had thought that they could have been saved. Behind a thick curtain of rain and fog, she had gone unnoticed, a small body lost in the mob of preys and predators, until-

Kabuto had barely been able seen her, but she had launched forward, a streamlined air current that pried open necks with her kunai, disabled eyes with her senbon and decapitated heads with her wires. She had worked like a genius – no movement wasted, no thought of hesitance, no breath taken without taking the breath of others. She had been a piece of art, or a master artist – she had made killing a whole other art form of life and death. She had been like the Mother Goddess, bringer of life – taker of death.

It had happened fast, almost as if the world had stopped just for her to take advantage of the man.

"Byakugan," she had whispered into the wind and rain.

The man had turned and-

"Two," she had mumbled, her palms pressing gently against his body.

"Four."

"Eight."

By now the Kumo ninjas had noticed something wrong. The man had stumbled back.

"Sixteen."

"Thirty-two."

He had been unable to move any longer.

"Sixty-four!" she had screamed.

With one last shudder, the Raikage had fallen. With one well-aimed hit – a gentle touch of her fingers to his forehead – and his brain had imploded with a muffled gurgle and his blood drained from his ears…

It had been over before he had taken his last breath.

Konoha had won; the endless endings of ends had come to an end.

It had seemed to Kabuto then that it hadn't been possible, that such a slip of a young girl had been able to defeat the most powerful ninja in all of Kumo in one decided move. In the darkness, in the rain turning sleet, he had been unable to know it then… but she was a Hyuga, and every ninja within the first year in the Academy understood that the Hyuga were different.

Hinata Hyuga was even more different.

Unbreakable

Undefeatable.

Unmistakeable, and he would be foolish to deny the feelings of admiration he had for her after that one night of battle. After five years, to see her again… to witness that other side of her that was not a killer or a murderer… to observe that she could be someone else and be just as flawless in that someone else… to know that she was, every bit of her, the perfect Head of the Hyuga…

It was almost surprising that he wasn't at a whorehouse thinking of her while in bed with another. But it was a folly thought, a moment's weakness, a desire to be suppressed. He had not been raised and trained to choose. He had been raised and trained to obey. The Lady Hyuga was not an option… and he would almost bitterly admit that he had not been moulded for her, had not been built for her preference, had not been tuned to her habits or practices or both. He was not his own to give.

Sad, but true, Kabuto weaved passed a couple making out and another slamming into a nearby bedroom – shirts already discarded, to look for the one who he had been moulded for, built for, tuned for. It had been a brittle balance, to court her and not court her at the same time. A man did not court; a man was courted. He had been very careful, otherwise she would have felt both insulted and disgusted by his company… and there was much to be disgusted by.

He chuckled at his own private joke and spotted her: pink locks and green eyes. Plucking up a glass of red wine and another of some pink fruity drink, he made his way through the Imperial gardens to her side. When he finally tapped her on the shoulder, she did not startle in his presence, having been familiar with him over the past few years. With both of their practices being sponsored by the Senju Clan, and having on occasion had worked with one another, Kabuto had many advantages his "rivals" did not.

"Sakura," he greeted with an amicable smile.

"Kabuto," she sighed with relief. "For a second there, I thought you were Naruto."

They shared a chuckle and he handed her the fruity drink.

"Thanks," she accepted, taking a nervous drink.

"Is everything alright?" he asked politely.

"Hm," she sounded listlessly, her eyes jerking across the ground uneasily. "I think I just saw… Lord Jiraiya with…"

"Another woman?" Kabuto filled in, effectively disguising both his anger and disgust with a sympathetic look. There was no one he despised more than his sensei's rival.

"Hm," Sakura sounded listlessly again, even with a nervous tremor. "I may have to find Lady Tsunade…"

Kabuto frowned and lied fluently, "I think I may have seen the Lady Senju by the east fountain. I'll come help you find her."

Sakura looked relieved and nodded, glad for some help. Of the two Lord Consorts of the Senju, Lord Jiraiya was the more troublesome one. "Thanks."

"You're welcome." Kabuto nodded helpfully.

They were just about to head towards the east fountain (the opposite direction from where he had last spied Lord Jiraiya to be) when Sakura suddenly gave a start and her face grow warm. Recognizing the signs, Kabuto turned to see Sasuke Uchiha ducking under the Palace threshold and away from his ever-growing crowd of fangirls.

"M-Maybe I should…" Sakura trailed, eyes following the Uchiha Spare with open desire and admiration.

Kabuto mentally sighed, willing his face from twitching with annoyance. The Uzumaki he could deal with – could even eclipse with his manners and easy company, but the Uchiha was a different matter. Sasuke Uchiha had everything Sakura Haruno wanted – every woman wanted. Dark, mysterious and with a bad-boy vibe, Sasuke was everything Kabuto had trained not to be. It had been a miscalculation on his sensei's part to construct Kabuto to be the Kabuto he was now – a Kabuto Sakura did not desire in the way she desired the Uchiha.

From the Palace, Sasuke glanced behind him briefly and Kabuto caught him in the eye. A glare from the Uchiha and he was gone, leaving Kabuto to contemplate on how he was going to redirect Sakura's attention from the Uchiha Spare and onto him again.

"Sakura?" he pried gently.

"Y-Yes?" she squeaked, pressing her knuckles against her cheeks to cool her face.

"Shall we look for the Lady Senju now?" Kabuto suggested with a patient smile.

"O-Oh." Sakura startled, blinking rapidly. "Yes. Yes, you're right, Kabuto. We have to hurry though, before it gets even more upsetting!"

Kabuto smiled. "Yes. Things are a little wild now, aren't they?"

Sakura nodded and smiled herself. "The Lady Hyuga was more than what we could cope with, I think."

Kabuto smirked, the image of black hair and white eyes flashing before his eyes – the indecipherable aura of calm and certainty a warm breath against his cheek. "She smelled of peonies."

Sakura blinked, but before she could say anything, Kabuto was already walking towards the east fountain and taking a sip of his champagne.

It had been a desirable scent.

xxx

He cursed himself for his folly, for his allowing himself to get distracted, even if it had been for a second, for a brief moment where all the rowdy and irritating noises faded into the background, much to his relief. Usually he would have been more aware of his surroundings. Usually he would have felt them before they could suspect him near. Usually he did not care for peonies.

He almost clucked his tongue when he saw the crowd of rabid fangirls run passed him in a flurry of sparkles and squealing. He hated squealing. He rubbed his temples and, once he was sure that they were gone, stepped out from under the tapestry (hoping that he hadn't just spoiled a priceless Palace artefact) and made quickly to his room where he subsequently shut and locked the door in less than a second.

Sighing heavily, he leaned against the door and slid to the floor out of fatigue and annoyance. Not only had he had to deal with that idiot that morning, who had practically destroyed one of the Palace's courtyards again, but he had had to slip out of the reaches of both Sakura and Lady Ino – both of whom were not easy to deny because of their rank.

He had never been as thankful for being an Uchiha then at the moment when both women had reached out well-manicured hands towards him…

"Sasuke?" his brother enquired.

Sasuke stilled and hoped he hadn't just heard what he had just heard.

"Sasuke?" Itachi repeated.

He cursed again and stood to glare at his older brother, the Uchiha heir, all naked and under his comforter with another man, equally naked and equally under his comforter. He was so upset and at the end of his rope that he had purposely sent his Sharingan spinning like a blood whirlpool, only to be even more upset when Itachi just stared at him blankly, unperturbed.

Curse his flawless fucking brother! Sasuke gritted his teeth, knowing that there was no chance in Hell could he even lay a finger on his brother if he didn't let him. It wasn't fair that his brother was so talented and skilled and perfect when he wasn't even a woman. Sasuke fisted his hands. If only one of them had been a girl, then their Curse wouldn't have been a Curse to begin with.

"What," he hissed, "are you doing in my room?"

Itachi, tired and sated, ran a hand over his ruffled locks and explained, "Karin was in my room."

"Karin," Sasuke spat, feeling his right arm jerk in disgust at the very thought of that woman, "is your wife."

Itachi blinked, hand still in his hair. "Yes. I hate her."

Sasuke buried his face in his hand and groaned. "One of these days you're going to have to fuck her, Itachi! We need a female heir!"

Itachi narrowed his eyes, more awake now because of the topic, and said, "You do it. She prefers you over me."

"If you were just a little bit interested in women," Sasuke accused.

"I am," Itachi cut him off passively. "I'm bisexual."

Sasuke jerked and nearly pulled his hair out. "Then impregnate Karin!"

Itachi raised a brow. "I like women. Karin is not a woman. She is a she-devil."

Sasuke growled and countered, "Suigetsu seems to enjoy the she-devil."

Itachi wrinkled his nose in disgust. "Then he can impregnate her. I-"

"He's not an Uchiha!"Sasuke burst, out of breath and out of patience.

"Calm, Sasuke," the other man in the bed pacified, snaking his bare arms around Itachi's waist and resting his chin on the Uchiha heir's shoulder.

Sasuke was just so f-ing glad that the comforter was keeper the lower half of their bodies hidden. "Shisui. As an Uchiha, you know the importance of-"

"Yes," Shisui agreed, a little sadly. The Uchiha Curse was always prominent in the minds of the Uchiha. And then Shisui smiled and joked. "Itachi, perhaps we should invite the nearest woman in our bed and get her pregnant."

The Uchiha heir raised a brow and then, slowly, a smile curved on his lips. It was not a displeasing idea for the both of them. "Perhaps one of Sasuke's fangirls."

Sasuke shuddered and then snapped, "As long as she gets pregnant, then I don't care."

They looked to each other and understood it to be true. The Uchiha were so desperate to break the blasted Uchiha Curse that they were willing to grab any fertile woman off the streets just to impregnate her in the hopes of getting a daughter. It did not matter if she was a noble or not, as long as the child within her womb was of the Uchiha's Main Family, nothing else mattered. As long as the bloodline continued without obstruction, then any method was viable – any sacrifice was deemed worthy. Anything for a female heir – anything.

Sasuke ran his hands through his hair and gave a heavy sigh, unable to meet his brother in the eye. A moment later and he jerked back and hit his head against the door when his brother flicked his forehead. Fortunately his brother had put pants on beforehand.

"Do not worry, little brother," the Uchiha Heir scolded with a soft smile. "I will take care of everything."

Sasuke smirked despondently and let his shoulders sink against the bedroom door.

Itachi was ready to return to bed when he noticed… "You smell like peonies, Sasuke."

Sasuke tensed, and Shisui stilled among the comforters with wide eyes. They dared not ask him… could not ask him what the scent of peonies implied. If it were true, then the Uchiha were honoured a thousand fold, but if it were not true, then they dared not to voice their theory aloud in fear of injuring her honour and her reputation.

She was untouchable, even for the Uchiha.

Cursed hands could not hope to touch her…

Sasuke shook his head and waived their theory (and hope) aside. "No. I was in the garden earlier."

Itachi let out a breath neither his brother or lover (and best friend) had noticed until that moment, in the curtain-shadowed bedroom and muted thoughts, of a tension of what could have been and what could not have.

Then, suddenly, Itachi asked him, "Do you like her?"

Sasuke swallowed hard and tried to mask his feelings, but it was foolish to try to mask anything when it came to her. One look, and that was all it took to shatter all his misconceptions of the Hyuga Clan. It still sent him spinning at how she had been able to take his breath away without being a stunning beauty, or displaying a crippling amount of chakra. A part of him, a bitter part of him, realized that she was the daughter the Uchiha had wanted all those years ago. If she had been Itachi… then there would not have been a Curse at all…

"She is the Lady Hyuga," Sasuke mumbled.

It was answer enough. There was no one who didn't like the Lady Hyuga. It would have been mutiny and betrayal to Konoha if that were so. And the Uchiha were, if anything, loyal to Konoha.

Itachi nodded and slipped back underneath the comforters. "Perhaps it is time you got married."

Sasuke's head snapped up, shocked at the suggestion and maybe a little… hopeful?

Shisui shook his head and said, "It will not do well for Sasuke to marry out of the clan."

No, Sasuke agreed. If his older brother was not going to bed a woman – not even his wife – any time soon, then the matter of the female heir would fall upon Sasuke's shoulders. He would not hate his brother for it. His brother had already brought enough honour to the clan, had sacrificed many personal endeavours to redeem the Uchiha within the Imperial Court. Sasuke would do anything to ease his brother's mind.

"Sasuke," Itachi said, for once sharp. The younger Uchiha looked to him. "I will take care of it."

Sasuke wanted to trust his brother. In fact, he was so sure that Itachi would "take care of it," but that did not mean that he wanted his brother to. Perhaps, he decided, it was his turn to uphold the clan's honour. Perhaps, he supposed, it was his turn to face the Curse.

And when he answered, they all knew he was lying. "Yes, brother."

But they did not gainsay him.

xxx

the point