family affair

27

i've been thirsty

"You cut your hair," Gaara said.

Hinata ran a hand through it absently, amazed that her fingers didn't shake. They were sitting together in the back seat of Rolls Royce SUV, not touching. One of Gaara's men was the silent driver, pulling them farther and farther away from the Estate. Hinata watched from the window, her nose almost touching the glass, as Sasuke emerged from the building just as they were pulling out of the gates. He was a solitary figure against the white of the snow. And then he was gone.

When Neji collected Hinata from her bedroom only a few minutes earlier, he looked somber, emotional, and regretful. She could see this in the way he held his mouth, frown lines evident between his eyebrows. Hinata put her arm through his like old times, and let him lead her down the stairs, Sasuke watching from the doorway.

"Hinata," Neji had said quietly as they began their descent. "I must apologize for everything, I––"

Hinata merely smiled sadly, shaking her head, feeling her earrings hit her neck. "No," she said. They were mid-stairs, now. "You don't have too. You are a great Uncle to this family."

"But––"

"––and that means you are constantly thinking about what is best. Y-you're a protector, nii-san, I can't be mad at you for what you were raised to do," Hinata said, at the bottom of the stairs now. She hadn't yet realized the weight of her words, the heaviness of the implications, the thought of being raised this way: his harshness, his brashness, his willingness to do commands; but then, of course, his empathy, his forgiveness, his sharp eyes that knew when to look away and when to look a little bit harder. "Through-in-through you were just doing your job."

They both stood in front of the door. Hinata could see Gaara's dark silhouette through the fogged glass. Neji grabbed her hand and squeezed it. They hugged, and Neji whispered in her ear: "Don't worry. I will be there when we get you."

Now, Hinata sat in a large and expensive car, a fur coat pulled around her throat. She could feel Gaara's stare, so she took her gaze from the fleeting tree lines that flocked the outer borders of the Estate and gave him a response he so needed, lest he decide to bash her head against said window. She didn't know what type of mood he would be in.

"I did," she said placidly about her new short haircut. "It kept getting in the way."

"Of what?" Gaara scoffed. "I can't imagine anything you do is so strenuous. Tie it back like a regular woman."

Ah, so it was a mean mood; she shouldn't be surprised, but it meant the waters were different. Shark infested. "I guess you're right," her tone was demure, something she had learned from Aoki during her living days. She had been a true lady of the house. "It's just unsanitary if it gets loose and I have to move it during a tattoo."

"I can't believe they still let you do that," Gaara said bitterly.

"Why wouldn't they?" Hinata merely blinked at him. It started to snow; first watery droplets that melted about contact with the windows, then big clumps that painted everything thickly like dust.

"There are better things to do with one's time," he said. Here they were, once again, sitting together, having a "normal" conversation that younger Hinata might have been jealous of…as long as she didn't know the context.

"Like what?" Hinata asked.

"Shut up," Gaara snapped. "This is a pointless conversation and there are more pressing matters to be discussed. I need you on your best behavior tonight. Stay by my side and don't talk out of turn. Better yet, don't speak at all, Hyuga. That negotiating shit you pulled last time almost made me kill you."

Hinata could feel the energy shift in the car. She pressed her back into the seat as if having something solid behind her would bring her comfort. It didn't help. The fur coat was up to her nose and she looked down, watching her breath move the soft tendrils of chinchilla fur. Poor chinchillas, she thought. If I make it out alive I'll never wear another one again.

Gaara pinched the skin of her thigh and Hinata looked down at the appearing red spot in surprise. The gesture was silly and quick, but Hinata guessed it had to be. He didn't want her showing up with a blackened eye––it would ruin the meeting, or at the very least cause some suspicions of their potential clients. Still, the harm made her consider how easy it still was for him to hurt her, how he didn't hesitate. She felt more and more right about not letting Hanabi come.

"I said, 'do you understand?' Get that dumbass look off your face already."

"I understand," Hinata muttered, turning her eyes back to the road. The snowflakes were golf-ball sized and almost obscured everything in sight. She hoped Sasuke was close by.

-:-

"Brother," Itachi and Sasuke clasped hands when they met at the izakaya parking lot a little down the ways from the Hyuga estate. Sasuke remembered Hinata telling him that it had been one of the many sites of the affair between Aoki and Hizashi––but it was closed now, and the parking lot was so dark and so empty that he wouldn't have been surprised if a tumbleweed blew through it.

The weather was becoming unrelenting and he had to blink away snowflakes every few seconds. Behind Itachi stood with the rest of the Akatsuki, eight of them, all dressed in long black cloaks with the metal of their weapons glinting against the light. Behind Sasuke, were only Sakura and Naruto. Once they figured out how to separate, each team would be led to the second rendezvous point for the evening; from there they would start their separate missions.

When Hiashi discovered that Hinata had given the Akatsuki the Byakugan File in a trade, he looked to almost have a heart attack, but then he did something more––he lifted the corners of his lips, an almost smile. In his office later, he drank down the rest of his alcohol; at that point, everyone except Hinata, Sasuke, Shikaku, and Neji had been dismissed.

"My daughter," he'd said. "You wonder why I am not so angry about the file?"

Hinata nodded minutely and Sasuke remembered resisting every urge to wrap her in his arms, to smooth out the worry lines between her eyebrows, to hide her away. It disgusted him sometimes, how soft she made him.

"The file is decades olds and only occasionally added to. Before it was digital, it was paper, but we burned those years ago," he began. "You see, it contains very sensitive information regarding ANBU and those government officials aligned with a glorified assassin's cult." Here, he looked Sasuke in the eye, in which Sasuke made no reaction. Sasuke knew who he'd worked for.

Though, the information was a surprise.

"We have unmasked data and identifications of all Senior ANBU officials. You see, we helped them out before you were born and did our own information harvest," Hiashi volunteered, pleased when no one looked remotely surprised, merely serious.

"I thought it was something like that," Hinata admitted. "But I n-never looked!" She added.

"I get why you're not mad," Neji said quietly. At this point in the night, he'd gravitated towards the couch against the far wall, switching between holding his head in his lap and staring straight-forward without emoting. "If our mission is to take down ANBU…then there's no need to keep the file anymore."

"There will be no need for blackmail," Sasuke completed the thought, nodding. "The file was keeping ANBU––"

"––and the government," Neji cut in.

"From launching a full investigation on the Syndicate," Sasuke surmised. "That's why I was originally sent in as an agent: as an attempt to start the process of eradicating the Yakuza in its entirety."

"You understand," Hiashi sounded pleased. "You understand completely. You see, your people––The Uchihas–– were the strongest of us for quite a long time, so they had to go first. It was convenient that ANBU had you, and they probably knew that you had a misguided vendetta against us. I imagine they might have even planted the idea there in your youth.

If anything, that loss of the Uchihas shut down the Black Market in Japan for almost a full year. Everyone had to rebuild––especially after that quack Orochimaru ruined everything," Hiashi frowned heavily. Then he shook his head, waving his hand as if waving away the memories. "Anyway, it makes sense that the Hyuga would be high on their list, since we took the lead after the Black Market got back on its feet, and after acquiring some of the Uchiha's former partners. We also had the Byakugan File, which other Syndicates knew about."

Hinata looked up, a serious set in her eyes, "S-so that means that if someone is directly affiliated with us, they are guaranteed 'protection' from ANBU?"

"In a sense," Hiashi nodded. "That's how it is understood. That is why I thought Gaara wanted this Boys Club Meeting so badly, so that we could be seen together and seen as a threat. Being that they are based in a place with more relaxed weapon law, I thought the partnership would be beneficial to us both, it seems I have miscalculated."

Sasuke didn't miss the anger in his eyes from being fooled. Shikaku stood from the corner he was standing in and put a large hand on Hiashi's shoulder. It was clear that the two men had been friends for long, strenuous years.

"Basically Hinata," Shikaku said, connecting everything to the previous question at hand. "The Byakugan File is about to become useless, if we are successful at bringing down ANBU."

"I see," Hinata nodded, her hands fisting tightly in her lap.

"We will be successful," Sasuke said.

In the parking lot, Itachi and Sasuke conspired beside the car Sasuke had chosen––a nondescript, yet slick, bimmer. "I pray you've opened the file already," Sasuke said, looking up at his older brother. Hiashi had given Sasuke permission to share the passcodes, which Sasuke did shortly after their meeting.

It contained identities, maps, floor plans, and other important documents that would be politically and socially damning if released to the public.

"Of course," Itachi said. He smiled bleakly: it wasn't lost on him––or the entire Akatsuki––that the file would soon be useless to them, too. They'd made a trade on an item going out of fashion. Even if Hinata hadn't completely known what was on it, she knew enough to take the risk. Sasuke felt hot pride rise in his chest. "I have questions, though."

Sasuke called Naruto and Sakura forward, and the four of them considered what it would truly take to take ANBU down. Sakura pulled up a phone, where she'd drawn sketches of six people with their masks––Neither Sasuke, Sakura, nor Naruto had what their higher-ups looked like under their masks. Now the Akatsuki did.

"These six run the organization. Three are based in Konoha. One is on the islands. Two are in the countryside but they travel––they could be anywhere."

"Hm," Itachi hummed. "We will split up, the Akatsuki is suited for this type of work. Let's plan to drop the file off to the press as well––that way, the one in the island that we won't get to will have the proper incentive to flee the country."

"As if dead co-workers weren't incentive enough," Naruto grumbled.

Itachi raised an eyebrow, "Problem? We'll try not to kill all of your colleagues, but there's really no guarantee. Especially if they get in the way."

"ANBU wasn't a place that fostered deep connections," Sakura spoke curtly. She was deeply uncomfortable, somewhat confused, and almost loyal to a fault. Sasuke was just grateful that her loyalty was to him. "Our team was most important, everything else was merely convenient. I would…prefer…if we stuck to these six leaders, but I understand if that becomes impossible."

"Ah," Itachi said. He understood Sakura's allegiances and her hesitancy, after all, ANBU had saved her. ANBU had raised her. "They made such a subservient agent out of you and yet…"

"Can we just get going?" She huffed. "I want to live a normal fucking life after this, so let's get to the point."

Itachi said nothing else. He turned to walk over to the rest of the Akatsuki to relay the plans. Sasuke turned to Naruto and Sakura, and raised an eyebrow. "Will you guys be okay doing this?"

Sakura stared at him blankly and Naruto made a face. "I was hoping you would say 'you guys don't really have to do this,'" he said.

"Why would I say that?" Sasuke deadpanned. "That's not true."

"Can we get back on track please?" Sakura was talking through her teeth. She wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible. "I will take my group to the countryside since I spent a lot of time there and know the land. Naruto, you'll stay in Konoha."

"Right!" He said. "One question, though. What if they're not at HQ?"

"That's easy," Itachi stepped back into their sem-circle, having already divided up his Akatsuki colleagues. "We will go to their homes. The file has all of their addresses."

Sasuke grinned. He wished he could be there to see the man's face––the one who gave the order to kill his clan––before he died. He wished he could be the one to do it.

But his clan had been gone for more than a decade, and he had someone else on his mind. Sakura and Naruto would get the job done just fine.

-:-

Hinata wasn't really sure what Gaara's plan was. Was he really taking her to a Boys Club Meeting? Was that even a real thing? She knew, at this point, very little at all about the shape of the rest of her night. She just knew that Sasuke would come, and until then, she would have to fend for herself.

Gaara took her hand as she stepped out of the SUV. They had pulled up to a private library on a wealthier side of the city. They were near the University and University Hospital, the old cathedrals, and art museums. A memory hit Hinata hard in the back of her head: She and Gaara sitting on the steps of the Modern and Contemporary Konoha Collection, feeding each other french fries at 17 and 18 years old.

The memory disgusted her. Gaara tightened his hand. The library was lit up in fairy lights and Hinata could hear music––stringed instruments––seeping out of its interior as doormen held the doors open for them. Maybe it was still a meeting. Hinata still was not sure what that would entail. Maybe they'd kill her on stage while Beethoven's fifth played in the background. Cinematic. Maybe they'd hold her for ransom. Not so cinematic.

"You'll like the dinner," Gaara said comfortably. He was playing his role with such a pleasant look in his eyes that Hinata was overcome with the urge to punch him. He fit right in with his dark three-piece suit, his hair gently curled, his eyes seafoam green and keen on her figure. He put his hand against her lower back. "Some of your favorites."

"I'm so excited," Hinata said, but it didn't sound the least bit real and Gaara squeezed the curve of her hip hard enough to leave a bruise: a warning.

"Play nice," he ordered. There were eyes on them, and he smiled down at her, placing a kiss atop her head.

So. This outing did require evidence, Hinata thought to herself. They did need to be seen together, at least, for a little while. That meant that Gaara still needed this connection, even if he had nefarious intentions afterwards. Hinata noted this as she folded into his arms, the ruffles of her dress a nice barrier. He seemed to be allergic to the material, his arms went red every time he brushed against it. Good, Hinata thought. Keep him away.

The man from the last meeting approached them, looking jovial and pleasantly drunk. The event wasn't large, it was in one of the rooms of the library. A reading room, perhaps, surrounded by dark bookcases full of literature, and long tables where one would study. Instead, these tables were filled with drinks, charcuterie, and other objects of merrymaking.

"My friends," Jugo said, handing them both a drink. He was red in the face and had clearly been there for quite some time. "I'm glad you finally made it. We're still waiting on a few guests before we begin the meeting and, well damn––" he broke off when his eyes flitted to Hinata and her pink face. "You cut your hair! Don't Hyuga's pride themselves on their manes?"

He was more talkative than last time. Hinata wanted to take a step back but knew she could not. She accepted the drink deftly and blinked prettily at him, then she turned to Gaara, laughing gently, "Spilling Hyuga secrets, my love?" She turned back to Jugo, "It's true, Hyuga have a certain aesthetic, but I l-like to stand out sometimes."

Gaara tightened his grip, pressing the bruises.

"You certainly do," Jugo said, grinning. "I'm excited about whatever insight you'll give during the meeting. It was great talking to you last time."

"Thank you," Hinata grinned back and leaned into Gaara, nuzzling her chin under his head, hoping to God he would stop squeezing her so tightly that it hurt. "I'm––I'm just happy to be beside him. I feel so lucky to be able to share t-this part of my life. It's…rare, when y-you're someone like me."

Gaara looked down at her, his eyes flitting to her lips. She watched him process this and was still in denial that it was coming when he grabbed her chin and kissed her, his lips as full and as brash as she remembered. It was a full and proper kiss too, that stated a sort of ownership. When he was done, he took his hand away and almost gave her whiplash. She could taste him on her and she smiled. She smiled.

"She's a prize," Gaara confirmed, like this was casual. Hinata looked around; so many people had seen, their heads all tipped in their direction. A sick feeling crawled up her throat. Then, Gaara did something even worse. He tapped her on the ass in a scurrying motion. "Darling, do you mind running over to get me a new drink? Sorry, Jugo, I don't drink red wine."

Hinata stumbled away, almost tripping over herself. Despite the humiliating effect of Gaara's dismissal, she felt grateful for it. She needed an out so that she could take care of something. She was making a bee-line for the door when a hand gripped her around her left wrist, stopping her and making the red wine in Gaara's glass slosh around.

"Where are you going so fast?"

Temari. Hinata winced; she hadn't known she would be there. She stood three inches taller than Hinata, her hair in its usual curly puffs, her eyeliner dark and heavy over her watercolor eyes. She wore a long, black dress that fit her frame perfectly.

"I have to pee," Hinata said simply. She owed Temari nothing. "Is that a crime?"

Temari raised her blonde eyebrows, "I don't know. You tell me––Cup looks full to me."

"It's not my first one," Hinata said. She gestured to the one in her left hand, "This one is your brother's."

"You just got here," Temari said.

Through her teeth, "I've been thirsty." As if to prove her point, Hinata took a large gulp from her glass.

"Hm," Temari rolled her eyes, taking Gaara's cup from Hinata's outstretched hand. "Whatever, bitch, I'm just messing with you. Why aren't you over there with him?"

Hinata felt her jaw tense. She was intentionally being agitated. "I was dismissed."

"Aw, good dog," Temari cooed, smiling from ear to ear. "And can she do tricks, too?"

Something violent and fierce must have flashed behind her usually quite placid eyes, because Temari blinked in surprise. Hinata took a deep breath and grabbed a napkin from the bar, using her right hand to calmly wipe away the bit of wine Temari had spilled on her when she took the glass.

Temari watched her, then her eyes narrowed. "Hey," she said, her eyes going from Hinata's focused face to her right hand. "What happened to your finger?"

Hinata's eyes fluttered up to Temari's, momentarily alarmed. She quickly masked it by looking down again, pretending to finish cleaning off her hand. Hinata had already forgotten about her finger, but between that and the short hair––

She didn't need the Suna making any sort of connections. She didn't need them having any ideas.

"I'm going to the bathroom," Hinata repeated and walked past her, her drink still in hand.

-:-

In the small, single-use, green bathroom, Hinata's face felt hot. In the privacy of it, she briefly let her emotions run wild. All of Gaara's touches, looks, and little acts of humiliation were getting to her. She spit up in the sink, and tried to scrub the kiss off of her lips.

"Stop it, Hinata," she told herself sternly, looking at herself in the mirror. Her hair was falling from the pushed-back style she'd put it in, her face was all red, and her lipstick was smeared. She'd have to get it together if she was going to continue to play the part. "Stay on task."

Besides, Sasuke was waiting for her. Hinata reached under the slip of her dress and pulled out a tiny, round tracking device. She didn't know if the dinner room was wired for detecting such a device but it likely was, with the sons, daughters, and leaders of prominent crime organizations gathered together in one room. No, Hinata thought, the safest bet was to leave the device elsewhere, not on her person.

She flicked it on, hearing the minute buzzing sound it made, and placed it inside of a potted Jade plant that sat on the bathroom countertop. She dug a hole with her fingertips and pushed it just under. Now, Sasuke should be able to find her.

When she stood up to begin fixing the makeup she had ruined with her panic, she felt a sudden wave of dizziness hit her and she gripped the sink. She closed her eyes, her head suddenly pounding. Outside the door, someone was knocking.

"Just––Just a minute," Hinata gritted out her teeth, trying to get her head to stand still. Maybe she hadn't eaten enough? It had been a long 48 hours, in which she had barely slept. A long week even. Still, the knocking continued, echoing against her skull.

"I said––" she looked in the mirror, seeing two of herself, then three, then four. She raised her hand to push her hair out of her face and missed, and when she moved to put her hand back onto the basin of the sink to steady herself, her hand missed it completely. Before she could stop herself, her body went straight to the floor.

Her head hit the door knob on the way down, and her crown erupted in pain. She wavered there, on the emerald-tiled floor, for a few minutes, unable to find the strength––or the stability––to stand. Her vision began swimming around her, and black spots appeared like stars, like prayers, like Sasuke's eyes looking down at her, all while the knocking at the door grew louder.

Behind the door, through her pain, Hinata recognized a voice, as distorted as it was. Temari, the bitch, saying: "––her hand, Gaara. Something isn't right."

Then Hinata saw and heard nothing at all.