It was almost 3 am when Sasuke got home to his penthouse apartment, and his birthday was officially over. Sakura was nestled under his shoulder––still in her casual clothes––and was quick to lead him into the bedroom. She was pretending to not be tired, but the high-intensity of the day was having an effect on her movement and making her clumsy.
For example, she tripped over the last step that led to Sasuke's bedroom, and he had to catch her before she face-planted. That would be bad. Sasuke was pretty sure she had a photoshoot the next day and the call time was likely only a handful of hours away.
Her hands shook as she removed his jacket and unbuttoned his shirt, but she was strong and forceful when she pushed him onto his bed and sank down to her knees in front of him, one hand on either thigh.
Sasuke looked down at her, unimpressed. "We should go to bed."
"It's your birthday," she pouted. But she didn't really care about him in this situation, she cared about herself and what it meant to be a "good fiancée." It wasn't her fault, Sasuke reasoned, she'd been raised to think about these sorts of things. "And we didn't get to do anything fun."
"You were almost killed," Sasuke said, watching her. She tugged at his waistband, and he lifted to let her remove his pants. Her long nails gently scratched at his skin and tugged the hairs on his thighs.
"So were you," she said, folding the pants nicely and setting them aside. "All the more reason to celebrate, no?"
So he let her pull him out and he was still hard despite the day; the shooting, the brother, the interview. While she did this act––urgently, sloppily, and perhaps, lovingly––he thought about the interviewer's question––when are you two going to tie the knot?––asked at an entirely inappropriate time and thought about how silly this all was; the fiancée, the press conference, the gun on his nightstand.
Itachi's punishment for the unruly fiancée Sasuke had was the press conference Sasuke had been forced to speak at in Itachi's "absence." And while their mother was quite ill, Itachi was merely at home, finishing off his hard liquor and prepping for the mess that would greet him in the morning, not visiting her at the ER.
Sasuke felt his body stiffen as Sakura's head of pink hair bobbed, her curls she'd carefully arranged falling past her shoulders. He groaned and put his hand atop her head, and she looked up at him with those gorgeous jade eyes, just as his phone beside the gun on top of the nightstand began to vibrate.
He immediately knew who it was and he cursed––he couldn't even have this. This! As he reached and answered it with a monotone, "hello." Sakura kept going, her mouth and tongue becoming a little more reckless despite the circumstances, and Sasuke had to push her off with an annoyed look. She should know that there were only three people allowed to call him at this time of night and it didn't turn him on to receive head while on the phone with his father.
She fell back, disappointed and wiped her mouth. When she finally walked away, Sasuke heard the shower turn on and sighed in relief. It was short lived. Uchiha Fugaku's voice on the other end of the phone was not happy.
-:-
Hyuga Hiashi was not happy.
Hinata could see this in the way he pursed his lips. It was subtle, but he was her father, and so she could still see it. Almost 23 years of living with the man had taught her that.
Beside him, one of his screens was showcasing the news, and an anchor in a lavender dress gestured towards a photo of Uzumaki Karin, the red-headed woman from before. At the bottom was the tagline: "What happens next? News Agencies waiting for the Hokage's Office to respond."
The TV was on mute, but it was loud enough. Hinata and Kiba stood stiffly in front of Hiashi's glass desk––clear of all items except a manilla folder, a coffee, and a closed laptop. Behind him––his office was mostly glass and television monitors––the sky plunged even deeper into night. The hills below were invisible, swallowed by the darkness.
The door opened behind them, and Hinata didn't dare look back. Instead, she shifted her gaze between the television, her feet, and her father's irritated face. She tried to make eye contact like she knew he would've wanted, but he stared straight ahead. He nodded at whomever had just entered the room.
"Hello, my former students," a warm voice called. Hinata smelled her––cinnamon and jasmine––before she saw her. Twin emotions of regret and hope, swallowed themselves in her belly. Kurenai walked past them to stand beside her father.
There was a tense moment––neither knew who was to bow first, until Kurenai, polite, responsible, equitable, bowed her head in acknowledgement of Hiashi's unique position within Konoha's government. Kurenai, after all, had once taken orders from him.
Hiashi bowed his head back, and once that was settled they both turned to look at Kiba and Hinata. Kurenai continued to smile warmly at them, despite the fact that her position was now in danger due to Hinata's failure. Hinata wanted to apologize, but she knew it would be impolite to speak out of turn.
Kiba, however, had not been raised like her. He was a legacy kid, that was true, with his mother and father becoming some of B6's first agents after the Great War, but he hadn't been raised like Hinata. That was why it made perfect sense when he frowned and said, "Kurenai-sensei, I am so sorry for our failures today but you must know it wasn't our fault! It was––"
Kiba was silenced with a look from Hiashi. Hinata didn't move.
"Faulty equipment," Kurenai said, reading the file Hiashi handed over to her silently. Her voice was mild, inquisitive. She raised an eyebrow as she read on, "And ah. Uchiha Sasuke was there. Hm. No wonder."
Hinata thought about his recent appearance on the news and felt her fate be sealed. Her father would demote her, put her on administrative duty, or worse––send her all over the country for recruitment until she died old, dissatisfied, and shamed.
"It's an honor to recruit," Hinata remembered Neji saying one day with a sly smile. He was making fun of an agent who had done so poorly on a mission, he could never show face again. "It's better than re-training, anyway. At least there's honor in providing better agents to the company."
Re-training was worse. You might as well die.
"Well it's not your fault," Kurenai declared. Hinata felt her heart stutter at these words, but she still wasn't sure why Kurenai was there in the first place. She and Kiba exchanged a look that was not lost on either authority standing before them.
"Don't be so hasty," Hiashi grunted. "Dove wasted time."
"She didn't know he was there," Kurenai argued. "The Uchiha brat is a beast, if rumors are true. Just look at how he handled the press."
"That really isn't relevant, Kurenai," Hiashi said, sighing. "If Dove had done what she needed to do––Uchiha brat or not––you might still have a job."
"I do still have a job," Kurenai said evenly. "You think a recall vote will take me out?"
"If that other Uchiha brat gets voted in––maybe."
A strange feeling washed over Hinata as her two elders argued. She got the sense that they wanted her to see this––this division, this error, the consequences of her failure. Why else would her first teacher––her most gentle supporter––show up to her fathers office? Why should Kurenai show up at all in this space, when she hasn't been an agent in over a decade? Kurenai had spent most of Hinata's adult years as an advisor to the Hokage.
Hinata felt crushing guilt hit her in the ribs. She had not only failed her father, she had failed the Hokage. That's why Kurenai was there––to help smooth things over on the Hokage's behalf. She'd come because she had a plan, a remedy, for this situation Hinata had gotten them into.
She silently cursed herself. She had been too confident on that balcony––too confident as Dove. She needed to punish herself.
"Well, what's done is done," Kurenai said, crossing her arms over her chest. "It's probably good that Haruno is still alive. We can use her."
"Huh?" Kiba looked perplexed.
"K…Kurenai-sensei?" Hinata tentatively asked.
"A new mission," Kurenai said, sliding a large file out of her red crocodile-skin purse that she wore casually over the shoulder of her long wrap dress. "Straight from the Hokage herself."
"Oh!" Hinata exclaimed before she could stop herself. Well that was…that was certainly unusual. Typically, it was Hiashi who doled out missions––even at the request of the Hokage.
Hiashi looked visibly irritated, but he finally sat down at his desk. He looked at Kurenai, teeth showing: "I already told Tsunade-sama we should send someone else."
"There is no one else," Kurenai said, a glint to her eyes. "Only her. The agents you have––none of them except your own two daughters could pull this off, and Swan is far too unpredictable. You have yourself to blame," Kurenai said smugly. "You raised 'em."
Hiashi looked like he'd just swallowed something sour.
"Canine will be our Hermes. He'll deliver messages and gear," Kurenai said. "He will––"
"No." Hiashi interrupted, looking distastefully at Kurenai. It was rare that he showed so much emotion, and Hinata felt her heart rate increase at the ease with which he was showing how dissatisfied he was. "If you're going to send Dove then I will choose her handler. It will be Prodigy, and that is final."
Hinata could feel Kiba looking at her but she kept her eyes on her feet, a thousand thoughts going through her mind at once. What was the mission? Why would she switch partners? It didn't make any sense––
"Very well," Kurenai amended. "Canine you are dismissed. Let's catch up over coffee soon, hmm?"
Hinata looked up––alarmed–– as Kiba cast a woeful glance in her direction before he turned to Kurenai and her father and bowed. When the door closed behind him with a morbid, heavy slam, the room went staticy silent.
Kurenai pushed a folder towards her, her red fingernail bright against the cream-colored documents. When Hinata accepted it between her shaking hands, feeling simultaneously very young and very old, Kurenai smiled gently down at her and it reminded her of when she was a child, learning how to use a knife to be dangerous.
"It's getting late," Hiashi finally said as silence overtook the room. Hinata hadn't yet opened the folder, too scared of what she would find inside. "Now that that is decided, I am going home. Dove, you will sleep at the manor tonight, and tomorrow we will prep you for your assignment. Is that clear?"
When Hiashi stood to his full height, Hinata flinched minutely. It didn't go unnoticed.
"Yes, Command," she said, using his official Byakugan6 title. She could not allow herself to think about how much she missed her bed, her apartment, her stuffed animals and special teas. She looked down at her file––would she be able to go back?
"Goodnight," Hiashi went through the door, leaving Hinata with her old teacher, who yawned and sat on Hiashi's desk after the door clicked shut.
Hinata visibly relaxed when it was just the two of them. She collapsed into a chair, rolling her head into her hands. Her hair was slipping out of the braid. The folder remained unopened on her thighs.
"This is a big mission, Dove," Kurenai said quietly. "But you know what you're doing. You're going to be okay. I would not have recommended you if I didn't think otherwise."
Hinata stifled a groan. Kurenai had said the quiet part out loud: she'd advocated for Hinata, despite Hinata's failure––despite the fact that Hinata's failure had jeopardized Kurenai's position that she had worked towards for years. And yet, Kurenai still believed in her. Still fought for her. Still wanted Hinata to prove herself.
"But-–but why?" Hinata asked, looking up at Kurenai's red gaze. Kurenai was more than a decade older than when they'd first met, with a husband, and a 4-year-old at home. Kurenai had no business meddling into the affairs of B6, not this far into her career.
Kurenai just looked at her, the ghost of a smile on her lips, she patted the seat next to her, on Hiashi's desk. Shyly, Hinata sat next to her.
"Remember after you moved out a couple of years ago, and I invited you to drinks to celebrate?" Kurenai began. "We hadn't seen each other in years, but I still had my colleagues keeping an eye out for you––you know that, right?"
"Of course," Hinata said. It had been clear in her early twenties who had been looking out for her and who had not.
"And when we got drinks, you asked me something and I haven't forgotten it," Kurenai said. She took Hinata's clumsy braid in her fingers and began to take it out. She ran her fingers through her hair gently. "You asked me––I think you were a bit drunk––but you asked me 'what would it take for someone like me to be able to retire?' Do you remember how I responded?"
"A life-threatening or debilitating injury, severe mental distress, aging out, or…" Hinata paused to think, the list unfurling itself with the memory. She'd had 3-4 pink alcoholic beverages that night. They'd been sitting in a dark bar and jazz music was playing. Kurenai had just found out that she was pregnant, and was drinking soda instead of her usual glass of bourbon. "...or Taking on and succeeding at a huge mission. An honorable award. Being too big and known to take on any more."
"Right," Kurenai said, the glint still in her eye. "Right. And that's exactly what's in this folder."
A way out.
-:-
Sasuke left Sakura in his bed the next morning, quietly dressing in a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, and slipping out his front door. He sent her a text saying that he'd be back in an hour or so, and that he was arranging a group of movers to come and collect some of her items later that day.
They didn't know if Sakura was going to be targeted again or not, so it was best for her to move in with Sasuke for the time being. Sasuke's place was even more private than Sakura's––hers was featured in Architecture Digest for God's sake––and he would not be as easy to find. Despite this, he was still uncomfortable with the idea of sharing his space, fiancée or not, and valued his privacy more than anything.
The issue was that his apartment was a glorified bachelor pad––though, he would never call it such a thing himself. It was an industrial, dark wood, loft with just enough space for himself, his belongings, and his solitude. In addition to wedding planning, he and Sakura had also been searching for their new home.
"Yo teme," a voice rang through the phone as Sasuke put his phone to his ear. Naruto had called a dozen times last night. "What the fuck is going on? Me and Sakura had this whole thing planned for your birthday and then–––"
Sasuke slid into his Bimmer, not saying anything as Naruto rambled on. Something about a surprise party with "50 of their closest friends." Sasuke could think of barely three. Maybe some good had come out of Sakura's attempted assassination.
"––did you call me at 6am for a specific reason, or…?" Sasuke grumbled. He pulled his car out of the parking lot and down the street, making a beeline for the expressway. The sun was already doing its slow crawl past the horizon.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Naruto said. He sounded still asleep, despite the volume of his voice. "Your old man called me and said we had some business to take care of. I didn't see anything on my Google Calendar so I––"
Sasuke rolled his eyes, "I doubt it had anything to do with the office."
"Oh," Naruto said. "Oh, oh. It's been a while since we got called to do something, I thought he got tired of us."
That was likely true, but the old man didn't have many options. Itachi would have been preferred, but then, Itachi also looked better on paper. Which meant he got to play Mr. Politician while Sasuke pulled strings behind the scenes. Instead of explaining all of this to his best friend, he simply said: "We're inheriting it. He's just stubborn."
Naruto made a humming sound, acknowledging what Sasuke had said. Sasuke watched the scenery change as he left the dense neighborhoods closer to the city center. Great oak trees began springing up, the light coming through them in rays.
"You coming to breakfast or what?"
"'M Getting up," Naruto groaned. Sasuke heard rustling sounds in the background. "Will Sakura be there?"
"No, she's got a shoot later. I let her sleep," Sasuke said, instead of saying what he really thought, which was that he wanted this meal to be as painless as possible, and that he was tired of trying to get his mother to like her. Fugaku practically beamed every time she walked into a room, but that was because he probably saw a walking dollar sign rather than a person.
They hung up the phone shortly after Sasuke heard Naruto fall over trying to put on pants and hold his phone at the same time. Sasuke dropped the roof of his car, and spent the next few minutes letting the thick air beat on his face. So early, and yet the weather was already a dense monster. Sasuke passed more trees and pretty houses before finally pulling up to the Uchiha residence.
It was a quiet, traditional style compound where his parents and a few relatives lived. It also acted as one of three meeting places for the Syndicate––but those buildings were farther back on the property, where the treelines met a river and divided the land. Interspersed between the buildings were Koi ponds and gardens his mother maintained before she got sick, but still they bloomed beautifully in summer with the assistance of their hired help. Sasuke watched a fire lily flutter around against the soft wind.
For the most part––when he wasn't in the Boroughs, as they called the group of Syndicate-only buildings towards the back––this place brought him a sense of peace and tranquility, even if that meant he had to speak to his father.
He unlocked the gate and crossed a small stone bridge over one of his mother's biggest Koi ponds until he got to the main house. He climbed onto the engawa and left his shoes there, soundlessly padding onto the tatami mats.
"Is that my boy?" He heard a voice call from the kitchen. How his mother could hear his silent steps from several rooms away had always confounded him, but he felt warm knowing she knew it was him nonetheless. "Come help me set the table!"
He went through the rooms, finding his mother leaning over the counter, breathing a bit heavier than usual. Mikoto had her hand on the lip of the sink, her hair pushed away from her face and into a low bun. She smiled when she saw him, reaching out with her other hand. "Come, come, let me see you."
"You shouldn't be doing all this," Sasuke found himself scolding, his brows drawn in concern. Mikoto looked paler than usual––and smaller too, Sasuke observed silently, as she wound her arms around his torso. It concerned him how tired she looked when she wasn't a day over 52. The green blouse she was wearing almost swallowed her, the collar sinking into her deep clavicle. "We have servants for this."
"I tried to tell her that," Itachi came in. He grabbed a set of plates from the counter and Mikoto hit him playfully with the dish rag.
"Neither of you can say anything, considering you've told everyone that I am in the ER right now!"
Sasuke frowned over her shoulder at Itachi, who shrugged and placed a bowl of rice atop the plates he held in his arms. "We did what we had to do, Mother."
"And it yet, it wasn't enough," in came Uchiha Fugaku, who was frowning at the three of them as if he had just swallowed something spoiled. Despite his unpleasant disposition, he took the spatula from Mikoto and handed it to Sasuke, then he grabbed his wife's arm and put it inside of his own. "But they're right. Go sit down, Mikoto, you're making me dizzy."
Sasuke handed the spatula off to a servant who had been hovering at the other side of the room and watched his parents slowly walk into the dinning room, Mikoto taking small breaths from exertion.
"She is getting worse," Itachi said.
"I know."
Several minutes later they were sitting around the Kotatsu, despite the heat and humidity of the outdoors; they tolerated it because Mikoto said she was chilly. Naruto had shown up looking disheveled but happy to enjoy breakfast with them. He energetically regaled the quiet group with a story about the birthday party Sasuke hadn't bothered coming to.
Mikoto liked to call Naruto her "third son." She had been bestfriends with his mother, Kushina, and took Naruto in when he was 12-years-old, after his parents had been killed in a Syndicate-related conflict that Fugaku refused to talk about, even years later. Fugaku, perhaps atoning for what had happened, agreed to help raise Naruto and treated him exactly the same as he treated Sasuke.
Which is to say, like garbage. Like scum under his shoe.
But Fugaku was pulling a good face for his wife, who happily chewed and doled out large servings of rice in the ceramic bowls she'd made during an art therapy class she'd taken during an extended stay at the hospital. They each had little faces on them. Sasuke's was yellow and frowning.
Fugaku was actually frowning. After breakfast, Itachi, Sasuke, and Naruto helped clean up while Mikoto withdrew herself due to a spell of malaise, and went to sit out at south-facing engawa, which faced one of her favorite gardens.
"I can join you," Naruto offered, watching her depart. But Fugaku shook his head: no.
"We are meeting in the Boroughs. Did you think I brought you all here for a simple breakfast?" Fugaku asked sardonically.
Well, Sasuke thought, placing the frowning bowl into the sink. It would've been nice.
-:-
It had been strange spending the rest of the night in her childhood bedroom, tucked inside of the soft canopy that was framed by lavender fabrics and fairy lights. For a household of international agents, their home amenities were cozy and lavish. They liked to live their double lives in comfort.
Her bed was as comfortable as she remembered, however she still had nightmares––dreams of her training in the yards behind the manor, pushing her body to its absolute limits. Reminders of the bruises she sustained after obstacle courses and sparring. Reminders that her mother couldn't protect her––had never tried––and then she was gone forever. Hinata woke up thrashing, with sweat on her brow and under her arms. When she moved from the bed, the satin sheets were wet.
The manor was eerily quiet. It was a large home, but with only three other people living inside of it, spread yards and yards apart. Hinata wanted to go home to her small apartment and her things; her bed was stiff and not as comfy; her cute tea mugs which she'd procured at various craft stores; her open windows at all times, where she listened to the chatter on the streets.
She tried to sleep again, but could not. Every time she laid her head down, she saw her mother's moon face, and how she looked away when her father threatened her. How when he was gone, she wrapped Hinata's bleeding fingers in gauze.
"Your father has a difficult job," Hitomi would say. "It makes him tense. You know you should be more careful not to make him angry, my love."
Hinata shook her head to get rid of the memories––but it didn't work; instead she thought about Neji and Hanabi, who were sleeping in their bedrooms a few doors down. They weren't close, the three of them, but they cared about each other. As children, they had tried to protect each other from the harsh realities of the world, but being in the direct care of Command made it difficult.
When she finally slept again, she dreamt of the day Neji arrived at the manor, two black duffle bags packed at his sides. He was 15-years old and held meanness in his face, looking just like his father; that is to say, like his Uncle Hiashi.
Hinata was 13, watching at the steps as Hiashi and Neji conversed. "Why are you here?" Hiashi said curtly. "Your brother sent me," Neji lied. "And so what?" Hiashi asked. "I want to work with you, Uncle. I want to join Byakugan," Neji said.
"What makes you think you can join so easily, Nephew? Do you have what it takes?"
Neji looked at Hinata then, who shrank behind the oakwood door, fear racing through her. It had been years since she had last seen Neji, and now here he was, hate becoming his gaze. He pointed, "She's been training since she was a toddler, but I could still take her down. It's in our blood, Uncle. My father––he was too soft for this life, but not me."
It was raining, Hinata remembered. In the dream, the sheets fell like lead. It splattered loudly on the cement walkway. From the doorway, Hinata watched Hiashi think, looking over his nephew, and catching his lie. "You ran away or you were kicked out?"
Neji looked away, "I ran away."
"Hmm," Hiashi, "Follow me. You too, Hinata."
Hinata felt dread set in and move heavy in her stomach. She stepped out of the doorway and into the rain wearing only her nightgown, the drops beat heavily on her shoulders and the top of her head, soaking her quickly and completely. Behind her, a servant ran out and gave her a rain jacket, which she gratefully buttoned over her sleepwear, her fingers already shaking. It was night, she remembered, the darkness around the manor was pervasive.
Hiashi led them to the training grounds after sending the servant back inside with a dark look. Hinata stood behind her father, shivering, as she watched Neji drop his duffle bags, a knowing look passing across his face. He crossed onto the sparring ground with ease, his footsteps leaving imprints of thick mud on the blue rubber training mat Hiashi had installed.
Hinata clutched her fathers jacket and she didn't even flinch when he looked down at her. She did flinch when thunder rumbled, and she looked with desperation towards the back of the manor, where the light in her bedroom flickered off and on erratically, calling her back home, inside. That was the dream, not the memory.
But the memory was still strong. Hinata felt Hiashi's heavy hands on her shoulders as he led her to the training grounds, and saw Neji's furious face as he faced her, lowering his body, getting into stance. The rain beat and beat and beat.
"If you win," Hiashi said to Neji. "You can stay. You will join our Early Program Recruits at the Konoha School for Advancement and Technology––has your father told you about that, at least?"
Neji shook his head, and he looked embarrassed.
"No matter," Hiashi said. "All you need to know right now is how to win."
When Hinata looked up, her cousin was coming for her, his gaze the scarp edge of a knife. If she didn't fight back, he would kill her. The lights in her bedroom flickered, on, off, on, off, on,––
Hiashi yelled, "Hinata! Fight! Now!"
And she woke up sweatier than before. It was day time––morning––and her body ached. Her bedroom lights were on, though she didn't remember touching them the night before.
She started sleepwalking as a teenager following a slew of notoriously difficult missions. She had just started working on the field a few months before they started. When she turned 19 she wasn't allowed to pick up jobs until she was evaluated. At 20, she was almost retired, but her father wouldn't allow it.
Re-training had been a brief topic of conversation, but Hinata recovered through pure will before that became a viable option. She pushed through. By the time she was 22 she had risen through the ranks and given a new code-name to match. Dove instead of Petunia––she'd hated that name––an animal class rank, to match her sister who had gained hers fast. Dove and Swan, the lovely daughters of Command.
Hanabi was now a couple of missions away from a new name herself. Hinata remembered Neji, how when he graduated from KSAT, he had immediately been given the name Prodigy. He skipped animal rank altogether, and was given a title name.
"Sleepwalking again," Hinata chided herself as she slipped out of bed, feeling an ache in her spine. She flipped the light off, letting the room be bright with the morning sun.
She was worried. If this continued, and if someone noticed, she would have to be evaluated again.
Her eyes passed over the room before landing on the manila folder. Her mission. Maybe that would take her somewhere far away. She sat down and opened it, her eyes widening as she read about who she was about to become.
