TEN

Work picked up for Hinata over the next couple of days, and Hinata and Sasuke fell into an easy routine. Every morning, she arrived 45 minutes before him and had his desk ready with his usual coffee and bagel situation. When he walked in for the day, she gave him twenty minutes of space before she entered his office to give her reports and take on any extra extraneous tasks. By 11 she had already ordered lunch. By noon, she would've already proofed, edited, and left notes on relevant documents and had them ready to be left on her superiors' respective desks. By the time Sasuke's lunch came around, she would be prepping for the next day. If she had time, she would discreetly work on some of her law homework.

They got into a quiet and respectful routine. They didn't talk much. Slowly, the Uchiha man began to rely on Hinata's careful planning; there seemed to be a calendar that lived at the front of her brain and her mind was a new and wondrous thing as she took in her law classwork and applied it to the field. She had even solved a couple of problems for Sasuke that he hadn't been expecting.

"Good morning sir––erm, Uchiha-san," Hinata said, after waiting twenty minutes and entering Sasuke's office. He looked tired today, she noted. Should she bring him an extra pump of espresso? Her weeks of working here had made her alert to Sasuke's every need and mood. If he was tired, he might be a little more difficult to work with. "Would you like me to get you more coffee?"

He looked down at the cup as if surprised it was already empty. "No," he said, gesturing. "Just give me the reports. And stop calling me sir. I told you that already."

He told her that every day, actually. It was a difficult habit to break.

"A-apologies s––Uchiha-san," Hinata said quickly. "Today you have a client meeting with the Kaguya Group. They would like you to meet them for lunch at the Blue Palace in North District."

"I don't remember them," Sasuke said, rubbing his forehead. Hinata watched this too––perhaps she'd leave ibuprofen on his desk when she next came in. She made a mental note. "Give me a bio and summary of their proposal."

Hinata did so with a straight back, recalling the information on memory. She'd read their appeal weeks ago and disagreed with their closing position. They were a small family company being sued by consumers for information mining––a key-copying company with machines all over the city. Several of them gave the consumer the option to scan your fingerprints as the password. Unfortunately, that was illegal within Konoha city limits, and now a class-action suit was being raised against them. In their reports, they stated that they weren't interested in settling out of court. Hinata sighed.

"I see," Sasuke said, with tired eyes. His head rested on his chin. He really didn't look well. "Bring me the notes you so diligently gather."

Hinata walked out of the office, her heels clicking, not sure if that was a compliment or an insult. She shuffled the papers on her hectic desk, before gathering the correct ones and walking back in. She was wearing one of the many outfits Ino had picked out––a straight black skirt, a little short for her tastes, a tight lavender-colored top with ruffled shoulders and long sleeves.

When she returned, she left the papers with the ibuprofen on the desk next to his water bottle. Sasuke turned his gaze from his laptop, to the pills, to her, his dark gaze bemused, but earnest. Hinata looked down at those dark, lower lashes of his, then lower, at his mouth which slipped into a small smile, then back up at his eyes––into his face––which still was tired, but had flickered into an expression of perplexity.

Sasuke took the pills, then looked over her notes. He nodded, "This is good, thank you. Be ready to leave at noon then."

Hinata blinked at him, standing awkwardly in front of his desk. "Ex-excuse me?"

"You're coming with me today, Hyuga. I'll need a note-taker. Call my driver and tell him where to meet us."

Hinata blushed and left the office. She supposed this was a good thing. She wasn't getting any better at getting close to the man, so this was certainly an improvement.

-:-

Ino got out of her car with a cigarette in her mouth. She didn't even light it until she was halfway down the block, in a daze, searching for the entrance.

It was around lunchtime, so she could confidently expect him to be there. She lit the cigarette as she walked, thinking deeply about the past couple of weeks. She ignored the men who waved at her as she got closer and closer to the dock, flipping her sunglasses down from the top of her head to cover her eyes. Everything was bathed in red, she liked it better that way.

The issue was––Hyuga Hinata was nothing like Ino had thought she would be. When she first got assigned the case, she bit her thumb thinking about how her partner would end up being similar to Hyuga Neji––aggressive, proud, powerful with that unimpressive brown hair, and ghost white eyes. Instead the woman was nothing like that––she was soft, annoyingly shy, and quiet. Her unique beauty made her stand out more than she blended in––that long feathery hair of hers, and those curled eyelashes framing her doe eyes––well, Ino couldn't think of a better person to pretend to be a rich, sheltered, heiress.

But it wasn't her appearance that threw Ino for a loop, it was the woman's internal agony. She'd told Ino that she didn't know who she was! That was a red flag if Ino had ever seen one. An agent telling you that they didn't know who they were? In complete agony that they didn't have a choice in this world?

It made you think.

Ino walked along the dock, staring into the sea-side taverns with mild interest. She'd worn tiny jean shorts and a pink halter top that tied closed above her belly-button. Men leered at her, but she kept going until she found the dive bar with the folded fan painted on the door. The fan was navy, red, and white––like the Uchiha colors––but it had many folds like an accordion. The paint was chipping.

She pushed the door open and slipped inside, her eyes immediately fighting to adjust to the low light. The bar was muggy and smelled like the salt of the sea several yards away and sour like the gallons of beer on tap. Ino grabbed a Heinecken on her way to the back, sloshing around the cool yellow liquid in her tall glass.

The few men who shot pool looked at her with interest as their biceps rippled under the orange overhead light. One of them even winked at her as he pulled his arm back, then lurched it forward, the long black cue strong in his grip. The resulting slap! against the balls somehow felt sexual. Ino smiled, raised her eyebrows, and turned away.

She was getting closer to grabbing her own cue stick until someone grabbed her arm, and pulled her away. She let herself be pulled, not bothering to resist. She was quick on her heeled-feet, feeling the bottoms of them meet resistance against the beer-sticky floors, she let some of her beer slush out of her glass for fun, some of it hitting the back of his fancy work pants. He said nothing.

Ino was pulled into a one-stall bathroom with flickering fluorescent lights that made everything look green. She leaned against the cold sink, watching the man lock the door through her eyelashes. She was playing games—and she knew it. It was more fun this way. He lit a cigarette, unaffected, as the small room filled with thick plumes of smoke. Then, he leaned against the door, crossing one leg over the other, as if trying to stop her from leaving.

"Hello," she said pleasantly. She turned and looked at herself in the mirror, adjusting her hair as she looked at his reflection. She'd worn pink lipstick to match her tiny shirt. She smacked her lips. "You're back."

She watched him smoke the cigarette. He was still in his work clothes: a button down shirt and slacks, and had the agitated look of a man interrupted on his face. He had no time for pleasantries. "What do you want, Ino? You're not supposed to be here."

"Playing hard to get I see," Ino said. She pushed off from the sink and reached out to adjust his collar, but he caught her hand and dropped it. His grip was simultaneously harsh and familiar, but she brushed this off, letting her hand come to rest on her chest as if shocked by the gesture. She leaned back against the sink, "...but, you have questions for me."

Shikamaru paused, bringing the cigarette to his mouth, and that was his tell. Ino smiled.

"What makes you think that?"

"You always have questions for me," Ino said. She sniffed the beer, then drank it, her eyes not once leaving his as she did so. "You would have ignored me if you didn't."

Shikamaru looked exhausted by this exchange. He reached behind her and put the cigarette out in the sink, his arms a warm beacon beside her almost-bare torso. Ino resisted the urge to go careening into him––his hands, her hips, the rough patch of his chin where wiry hairs were growing back, the veins in his arms as he dropped the cigarette into the sink; extinguished––but she did not do what she wanted. She just leaned back and exposed her long neck, which she knew he had not forgotten, even if it had been a year.

"You've got me," Shikmaru said. He took the beer from her hands, and Ino watched him swallow it down, her eyebrows lifting at this urgency. When he slammed it onto the edge of the sink, his shoulder bumping against hers this time, she didn't even jump. "So tell me, woman, what the fuck is that Hyuga spy doing in my office?"

Ino's eyes widened just half a millimeter, but he'd caught her tell––her fingers clenching. She hadn't expected him to figure it out so quickly, and yet she'd come here to beg for time. She dropped the act, all pretenses of this meetup being a silly, nostalgic flirtation were gone.

"I couldn't stop them," Ino said immediately, watching Shikamaru's mouth stretch into a thin line. "I tried to talk down Kurenai and my father, but Kurenai seemed impassioned––I mean it was her job on the fucking line but––"

Shikamaru looked at his watch, then back to her. She was running out of time.

"Kurenai demanded it be this girl. I was going to come to you as soon as I knew more, but––she's…weird, Shikamaru."

"Oh?" Shikamaru lifted his eyebrows sarcastically. "She's weird, so I shouldn't go running to the Boroughs to tell the Uchihas of this new development? It's my fucking head on block, Ino. Not yours. Not yet anyway."

They stood in a tense silence for several long seconds. Ino looked down at her nails, voice cracking. "When we made this agreement––"

At the same time, Shikamaru was saying: "I thought we had an agreement––"

They both stopped. Looked at each other.

Finally, Ino sighed, her shoulders caving. This whole thing was beginning to feel frantic to her. "Listen, I know we have an agreement, and I know the Uchihas don't know about it. Things were so different a year ago. Believe me, I was shocked when I got this placement. Someone should've kept Sakura on a fucking leash––"

"You and I both know that's not the point, Ino."

"Well, she's the reason I'm in this situation," Ino huffed irritably, blowing her hair away from her face. She'd grown up with these people––and maybe that had been on purpose; something her diabolical father had thought of––and while this fact was helpful for certain types of intel, she'd never had to spy on her friends before––on Sakura and her new fiancé. The Uchihas had been in a different league than they had been; Ino never thought the two worlds would collide. And now they were crashing into each other, disrupting the universe Ino thought she knew so well.

Ino took another deep breath, feeling it come from her diaphragm. Shikamaru merely watched, emptying her glass into his mouth.

"I need time," Ino said finally. "I understand your duty and your fear, but you and I both know that Hinata is nowhere near close enough to getting any information out of Sasuke. She's actually, like, really bad at this."

"What are you saying, Ino? Are you suggesting we could get her on our side? What is the reason for all this…waiting?"

"That's exactly what I'm suggesting," Ino said, crossing her arms. She tried to look serious as she did this, but faltered when Shikamaru looked unimpressed and somewhat amused. He even managed to laugh.

"Let me get this straight," Shikamaru held up a finger mockingly, moving close to her. "You think that you can get your little agent of a friend to turn on her family? Command himself? And help us? You want me to not tell my fucking boss––my friends––about a spy in our midsts? Do you know how fucking crazy you sound right now? Do you, Ino? Do you?!"

He was practically yelling, spit flying and hitting the corner of her mouth from how close to her he was. She could understand his anger, but she still felt wholly and completely right. Even if the request did sound batshit insane, hearing it repeated back like that. Ino stood her ground.

"I––I think, if we can get her to turn, it will be enough for me to finally break away from my father," Ino said. "This is a huge mission for the both of us."

"I'm only hearing you be selfish––I'm not hearing how this is actually logical."

"She's saying she doesn't know who she is!" Ino finally cried, frustrated that Shikamaru wasn't beginning to understand––or even trying to understand––where she was coming from. "She has all of these existential questions all the time. She's horrible at her fucking job––she completely ruined this dinner we had with Sakura, basically making her hate her. She never talks about the Company, she never talks about the mission. She wants to chat with me about, like, friendship and knowing herself and––"

"I'm failing to see the point here."

"I think she just wants to be a normal person, Shikamaru," Ino said, exhausted as she slunk down, the hard edge of the sink pressing into her spine. "I've been studying her for weeks. She's unmotivated, she's nervous, she doesn't have conviction, she doesn't have work ethic––she doesn't even have a choice––"

"Ah," Shikamaru lifted his chin, a sudden spark of light behind his eyes. "Like you?"

"Like––like me, I guess, yeah," Ino admitted. "I just––I just think she's weak right now; she's misguided. If we––if I––can show her real friendship, if you can become a mentor to her, if she learns what real love is––what it can be––we could get her to switch sides."

Shikamaru considered this. Ino could see his jaw working as he weighed his options: for one thing, the Uchiha didn't know about his and Ino's arrangement; it was one of information sharing and occasional sex, that offered them both a specific sort of protection: Shikamaru could warn the Uchihas about federal movement when necessary and Ino could feed her father useless bits of information about the Underground whenever he asked what she was up to.

Shikamaru could get away with "not knowing" about Hinata if shit hit the fan. On the other hand, it still would become his problem if shit hit the fan. He hated when things became his problem.

However, he couldn't deny earth-shattering changes that could occur within the Syndicate if Ino was right. Besides, there was something Ino said that already rang true: Hyuga Hinata was doing a horrible job trying to infiltrate their group.

"Fine," Shikamaru finally said. "I'll keep it to myself, but any missteps––any sign of her going off the rails––I'm out. I'm out forreal, Ino. I'm out of this arrangement between us."

"Y-yeah, of course," Ino said, nodding affirmatively. Her heart felt full but her belly was nervous––full of gnats. This had to work.

"There has to be a time limit," Shikamaru said. He looked at his watch before moving Ino out of the way of the mirror––looking at his appearance. Ino felt the burn of his hand on her shoulder as she stood behind him, watching herself and him, inside the mirror. He buttonted his shirt slowly, looking at her through her reflection, his dark eyes glinting. "One month."

"That's too short––"

"She's already been here three weeks," Shikamaru shrugged. "She needs to be on her knees, doing a goddamn blood oath in one month or––"

"Give me two," Ino said, standing her ground once again.

Shikamaru raised an eyebrow. "How long does it take to make a fucking friend?"

"Two months, bastard," Ino answered evenly, leaving no room for doubt . "She's even more indoctrinated than me. Besides, you see how slow this whole thing is going."

"Sure, sure, whatever," Shikamaru said, finally agreeing. He held up two fingers, his rings sharp and dangerous against the light. "Two months. Use them wisely. Deal?"

"Deal," Ino said. They shook on it, his larger hand sliding over hers. Again, she wanted to be pulled in, but she resisted, especially when he turned towards the door and said––

"If she's who you say she is, you're going to break that girl's heart, manipulating her like this."

"She won't find out about this," Ino said quietly, to the door as it eased shut. "It's for the best."

She didn't know what she believed, but she knew she liked Hinata, and knew that the woman deserved more than to be a pawn under her father's thumb.

Just like Ino did.

-:-

Sasuke watched the Hyuga woman scurry around, pink thrilling her cheeks as she worked double-time to make his day easier. He had to admit, she was a good worker. She hadn't once let her fangirl fantasies interfere with the work day.

The truth was, he was tired. He'd spent the better part of the last week in a rotation: dealing with Bowl-Cut, his father's irritation, his mother's illness, his brother's campaign, and Sakura's wedding all in the same fucking 24 hours everybody else had. He was run to the ground––not to mention the Syndicate and the shoes Fugaku was expecting him and Naruto to fill very soon.

Last night he'd barely gotten three hours of sleep. He'd spent the better part of his evening after work in one of the clubs his family owned, making deals with a gentleman who sold some of the best coke this side of the country had ever seen.

Of course he had to try it. He slipped his card into the bag and rubbed it against his left nostril––and the people hadn't lied, it was the best. And now they had the lion's share of it to distribute at their own pace. He'd partied of course––he'd celebrated! But now he was back in his office, pretending to be a good lawyer, and thinking about the coke in his pocket that might just be the key to waking him up.

But then there was Hinata: confusing, diligent Hinata, who left ibuprofen on his desk without him having to ask. It was the first time in a while anyone had ever anticipated his needs, and she did so daily, without as much as an irritated look or a sigh.

Maybe it was his exhaustion––it had been weeks upon weeks of him being the sober "new Sasuke" afterall and it was starting to wear on him––and the escapades from last night, but he got it in his head that he wanted to loosen her up. He wanted to see if she could actually deal with the Uchiha Sasuke that there were rumors about. He felt his old self murking about in the background of every room, hiding in a corner, as if waiting for a weak point. Well, he was weakening quite quickly.

"You don't look so good," Naruto was standing in his doorway, arms crossed.

"Don't feel good," Sasuke replied shortly. "Sakura was pissed about what time I got home."

"It was worth it," Naruto winked, but even he didn't seem committed to the words coming from his mouth. Sasuke remembered Naruto the night before, licking coke off the tits of a woman who looked like a doll. He'd slipped hundreds of yen between her g-string, before pushing her off to Motoi, their new partner in trade, who grinned and flashed gold teeth which glinted against the rotating disco ball and––

All this, right before Sasuke decided it was finally time to leave and drive and drive and drive. He was putting distance between his new self and his old self. He drove for what felt like hours.

Sasuke had the biggest headache of his fucking life. Luckily, he had a new assistant to keep him afloat.

"––sir––uh, sorry––Uchiha-san?" She peaked her head in, her hair floating gracefully down her shoulders. "There's a call for you on line three. I transferred it but––"

"Ah, that's my fault for distracting' him. Thanks for being so good at your job, Hinata. We'd probably lose clients without 'ya," Naruto fixed her with a flirtatious smile, looking down at her–– and for some reason that gesture irritated Sasuke even more. Sasuke glared at him as he walked over to his phone.

"Well, t-thanks," Hinata blushed sweetly as Naruto bent over and patted her on the head. Sasuke continued to glare at him, hoping he'd get the message to leave his assistant alone. "But…um, it's your father, Uchiha-san. That's why I came in."

Naruto straightened up and Hinata dipped out of the office in that silent way of hers that put Sasuke on edge. Sighing, he settled into his seat and answered the phone with a tired, "Hello Father."

Naruto watched him still from the doorway. It wasn't often Fugaku called their office.

"Motoi is dead," Fugaku said into the phone, his voice a scratchy drawl, full of unease. "Killer B. will be coming to the Boroughs tonight to talk. I need you to come early."

Sasuke felt his body go stiff. Naruto noticed the shift in attitude and crossed the room. "He's dead?" Sasuke said. "What happened?"

"You think I am going to discuss that with you over the phone?" Fugaku bit back. "I will see you tonight."

When Sasuke hung up the phone, Naruto looked pale and Sasuke's head erupted with pain.

The stress headaches were returning.