Day 21
- A Hint of Jealousy - and;
- You Should Be Kissed, and Often, and By Someone Who Knows How -
The soft back of the woman he's loved for so long has vanished, and left behind is cold, desert air. When he reaches over, his hand falls on that spot that should be full, and he feels the grains of something against his palm and wakes with a stir, eyes blinking open, staring into the dark room. He didn't forget he was in Suna, but he had hoped it was a dream; he had hoped he'd wake in Hinata's bed, his arm around her, her hands sleeping against his chest. He had hoped it was all a nightmare his brain conjured up to scare him, to worry him, to aggravate the ever-living shit out of him.
But he wakes, and he is in Suna, and Hinata is not here.
He fell asleep about forty minutes ago. Sasuke stayed up most of the night listening to Hinata's breathing, his hand on her shoulder to feel the rise and fall of her body. If a nightmare ever shook her to her core, he'd be there to wake her immediately; but, eventually, stress and discomfort gave way to exhaustion, and he let the heavy hand of slumber pull him away.
He thinks about what happened a few days ago. She woke up calling Gaara's name, and then she got lost in the very village she calls home, looking anything but herself. She couldn't look him clear in the eye, and that's how he knew something was wrong.
What if that happens again?
What if she drags herself around the halls of Kazekage's tower, lost, dazed?
Sasuke feels as though his mouth is full of gravel. He stands and fixes himself up while on his way out the door. The floors are freezing. The wind howls.
There's a Konoha traitor drifting through the halls. The staff, thankfully, sleep; if one of them happened upon such a sight, they would surely die of fright.
...
It is not hard at all to find Hyuuga Hinata.
Her chakra is like cinnamon — even a sprinkle is a lot. It overwhelms, and it conquers, and if given the right situation, it burns. Sasuke's throat catches on fire not three minutes into his search. Chakra spits in hot waves from the upper floor, panicked, and he skips the stairway entirely and leaps onto the loft. It's only a turn around the corner, and then he finds her.
Down the hall, a few doors away, there is Hyuuga Hinata — and around her, enveloping her, is the Kazekage.
...
Jealousy is venomous. It bites his neck and poisons him. It makes him want to snap that man's arm. It makes him boil.
Those are not the arms Hinata should be in.
What the fuck is he doing!?
Sasuke takes a half-step, then retreats back, blowing long out of his mouth until his lungs are squeezed empty. He takes a second, and he looks again, and he sees Hinata is in that sick, dazed state with glossy eyes that look more painted than real. There's a horrible shake to her body. Her legs will not keep her up. She's halfway standing because of Gaara's efforts, and if she were any paler, he'd think her a ghost.
Concern is late, but catching up to jealousy.
Sasuke doesn't like it, and he doesn't like how her chakra is spilling through the halls, and so is the Kazekage's — mixing with his, distressed, on edge.
Sasuke comes to her side. "I'll —" take her.
That's what he was going to say.
But before he can, Gaara lifts her just enough for Sasuke to get a good hold on her, and then he pulls entirely away. Really, Sasuke had expected some push back — a sort of 'Back off, I've got her' sort of thing. But Gaara hands her to him willingly, with ease, and when he looks at him, he has the eyes of someone who understands, who knows his place.
The ex.
The one who shouldn't get involved.
"Down the stairs. Turn left at the third hallway. It will be on your left."
And he leaves with the swing of his robes. Just like that. Not another word — not even a second glance.
Hinata touches his shoulder, stirring. For a moment, she looks confused — then she turns her head to the open doorway opposite of them. Inside, sheathed in dark, is the unmistakable profile of a white piano, the hood down, the keys untouched. Her fingers yank his sleeve, and he understands and takes her carefully down the staircase.
"I've got you," he whispers.
"I didn't mean to," she says. "I just ended up there. I didn't mean to."
His legs take him along the directions Gaara gave him. They come into a medical office. The medic is aging, but her eyes are sensible and sharp with fresh intuition. One look at Hinata, and she tells him to lead her to the bed to rest. Sasuke does as he's told, helping her relax against the stiff mattress and pulling the thin, white sheet over her body. She fades into a sleep, and he stands at her side until she wakes once more. There's a chair there that the medic offers when checking Hinata's pulse and chakra flow, but he thinks if he sits, he'll never be able to stand again.
Hinata is out for about six minutes, and then she stirs and turns to his looming form.
"That was real," she moans, forlorn. "That wasn't a dream."
Sasuke takes her hand, unsure what to say.
"I meant only to get air," she says. "I could hardly breathe in that room. I just wanted to crack a window, but I couldn't find one, and I ended up . . . ."
In the piano room, Sasuke finishes to himself. With the Kazekage.
Perhaps a hint of his inner turmoil touches his face, for her hand squeezes his, and she looks up at him and whispers, "I'm sorry."
"Don't," he says as gently as he can, "you've done nothing wrong." He turns to the medic-nin, who is bent over her desk, scribbling something down on a document. "Just rest while you're here. I'll come by as much as I can."
The steel in her hand falters, then softens, then slides to the mattress as she drifts back to sleep. It stays an extra five minutes, watching her face for any signs of nightmares. The bow of her brow is smooth and relaxed, and her mouth is a gentle purse, barely scrunched at all. There is no burn of chakra in the air, but his throat is still tight, and it stings, and smoke lingers on his taste buds.
Before he leaves, he catches the medic-nin's eye, and she wrinkles her nose and meets him by the door, where there's a small bit of privacy.
"Whatever it is, I'm not going against my practices," she drones, as if she expects him to make some obnoxious request.
She's not far off, to be honest.
"While she's here, I do not want the Kazekage around." Her mouth lifts like she's about to laugh, but Sasuke keeps his expression serious. "Not even a step into this office."
The medic shakes her head, brows furrowed and mouth twisted. "I needn't remind you, Uchiha, but this is Lord Gaara's tower." Her hand pats her chest to gesture to herself. "He goes wherever he may, no matter what one medic-nin says."
"Then treat him like a patient and tell him he should stay far away from this place —" He gives one of those 'wicked' smiles that he used to be famous for all those years ago, when he was still rogue. Right now, it's the Konoha traitor that needs to play his part, and Sasuke's happy to oblige, ". . . unless he'd like to have his nose ripped off. Mysteriously."
The medic looks torn between reprimanding him for threatening the standing Kazekage and taking four, giant steps back. Her mouth scowls, and Sasuke raises his brows, urging her to fight back, but she doesn't. She just nods, and he's off before she can find any courage to take back her agreement.
...
It takes Sasuke no self-convincing for him to go straight to the Kazekage's office. It's barely dawn, and were he and Hinata still in bed, they'd probably not will themselves to leave for another few hours. But Hinata's sleeping in the medic wing, and Sasuke's still seething over the image of her in that moron's arms — but even more so, it's the way he just got rid of her, just handed her off to someone else, that really got Sasuke's blood boiling.
He doesn't think there will ever be a time in his life where he'd just pass her on to someone else.
Even . . .
Even if, somehow, things didn't work out, and she started to fear seeing him as she fears seeing Gaara — if given the chance, Sasuke would never let her go.
It takes a special kind of audacity to not worry your hairs gray over Hyuuga Hinata.
When Sasuke comes into the Kazekage's office, he's expecting to see Gaara age a whole three decades in the short, ten-minute span Sasuke's been away. He ought to be all gray hair and wrinkles and a bad slouch to his back.
But he isn't.
He sits, perfectly fine, perfectly young, perfectly unperturbed, at his desk, and Sasuke —
He —
He's . . . not sure what to say.
Somehow, he almost wills for those words to flood from the Kazekage's mouth: "How is she?" Then, this rage can change into something different, something Sasuke can handle. He can rub it into this idiot's face that he shouldn't have to worry about Hinata because he, Uchiha Sasuke, her boyfriend, is already worrying enough for her. He can grandstand and boast and drill it into Gaara's skull that he's lost his chance, that she's moved on, that she's found someone better, someone who won't leave her — someone who's loved her longer than Gaara's even known the meaning of love.
But what is Sasuke supposed to do when that question, that concern, doesn't come up?
Because Gaara doesn't ask it, and doesn't look worried out of his mind.
He doesn't care.
Blank eyes lift from paperwork, and he stares at Sasuke like he's a Konoha ninja and nothing more.
"I'm going to assume you're here to be briefed on your mission," Gaara drones. "Unless you have something to say to me, of course."
Oh, Sasuke can think of plenty to say to him.
But if he does say something along the lines of 'You're a fucking idiot for what you did to Hinata', he fears he'll receive nothing but a unbothered stare that just confirms that Hinata is that farthest thing from the Kazekage's mind. That would be beyond irritating, and Sasuke's done good at keeping his emotions at bay thus far — but that would break it all instantly. There'd be no going back. He'd try to kill the Kazekage, a war crime by itself, and he'd go back to square one, to that Sasuke that hurt people, that ruined things for his own, personal gain.
He . . . can't do that.
Hinata needs him.
He can't help her when he's behind bars.
"Nothing," Sasuke grits out. "I've nothing to say."
...
"It's no secret that Suna is turning against me." The way he says it is almost unnatural. Sasuke knows the feeling of an entire village against you. No matter how strong he was, how determined he was, there was always a bit of tight nerves wound at the back of his neck when he sat down and thought about being the enemy of all those people. Of course, it did nothing to deter him, but even traitors had moments of stepping back and looking at the bigger picture. Gaara, however, speaks like this is normal, like he shouldn't be concerned at all. "They believe I'm betraying them, so they wish to put a new spokesman into my title before I pick someone on my own."
This is all corresponding to what the gate guard had told them yesterday. Sasuke nods shortly, if only to get him to continue.
"Despite their rather loud protests, when my nin have interrogated and interviewed a few protestors, I've gotten the inclination that they're hiding something." He pulls a scroll from his drawer, unrolling it and turning it so Sasuke can read it with ease. It's information on a man named Zaiaku, an older man with an unfamiliar face. "He used to be a member of my Council, until I relinquished his title about a year ago. Now he's leading the riots. The spokesmen that my people wish to replace me with — it is him, and I'm inclined to believe he's convinced them in some way to fight on his side until he's Kazekage." Gaara takes a momentary pause as Sasuke reads over the rest of the scroll. "Your mission is to investigate him."
Sasuke shifts from one leg to the other. While it's true that an old councilman who is still bitter about his letting off could be conspiring against the Kazekage for some sense of revenge, he suspects a bit more simpler than that.
"Don't we already know why they're against you?" Sasuke asks. "Because you have some woman you're supposedly running away with?"
He watches carefully for any spite on the Kazekage's features, but none comes.
"There's no woman," he drawls. "Never was."
That last bit seems entirely too pointed, and Sasuke has a sneaking suspicion it was directed towards Hinata.
Prick.
"Sure. But if the people are convinced, it doesn't matter if it's the truth or not."
"It takes more than rumors to break strong loyalty." Sasuke can't argue against this. Before any of this, stories of how Suna loved their Kazekage stretched throughout the ninja lands. Satisfied that he's gotten his point across, Gaara continues, "Find out what has caused this shift."
Sasuke takes a lingering glance outside one of the many windows in the office. A crowd has already taken the streets despite the sun not even fully set in the sky yet. There will be hundreds of people down there by the time he's ready to start.
"Alone?" he asks.
Gaara stares. "Is the Hyuuga in any state to work right now, Uchiha?"
Hyuuga.
Maybe Suna has realized what a complete shithead their Kazekage is. Perhaps that's why they're rioting.
But Sasuke keeps that delicate thought to himself.
He agrees, turning to stiffly leave, but pauses at the door. He could be gone for most of the day, and even if that medic-nin agreed to keep Gaara away, he's unsure how willing she will be to keep her word if the Kazekage chose to use his authority against her.
"While I'm gone," he says, turning, "you should stay away from the medic office."
Gaara, again, looks superbly unbothered. "I'm not interested in visiting Hinata."
Sasuke could spit fire if he weren't so caught on that name. "It's Hinata now?"
And, for the first time since he's stepped into this damned place, Sasuke watches as a genuine, poignant flash of frustration bends Gaara's face. Papers shift when the Kazekage suddenly stands. He does not loom, but he daunts, and Sasuke has to bite his lips together to keep from smirking.
"You have four hours," Gaara mutters, "to gather one-hundred interviews."
Sasuke balks — and he looms, because he's not some munchkin on a power trip — and he daunts, because that's Sasuke's natural state of being. His hand slams on the desk, causing more papers to flutter about, and he glares at the man before him.
"I'll get two-hundred interviews," he hisses, "in half the time."
Gaara's eyes almost light up like he's heard an inside joke. That just pisses Sasuke off more, and he leaves to get changed and prove that gremlin that Uchiha Sasuke acts on his word.
...
It's easy to be a Konoha traitor in the clouds of Suna protestors.
Uchiha Sasuke is a name that anyone in any town, village, or small, little cottage knows. They know his face, too, and when they see him, they watch like dogs, waiting, preparing to either attack or sniff him out or bring him into their pack. They don't hide their weak just yet because, for once, they have something in common with a Konoha traitor: a distrust in their great leader. If Sasuke can be disloyal to his own village, then he can be disloyal to theirs — and disloyalty is what most of Suna thirsts upon at the moment.
It doesn't take much effort on Sasuke's end to fall into that once expected role of a villain. He glowers and he boils, and the villagers are quick to understand his qualms are not pointed in their direction, so they let him come closer. They let him join knitted conversations. They push back with him when a few loyal ninjas try to break up the crowd.
Sasuke is quick to get to work.
It's easy to ask about the protests when he's a part of them. They chew on their dried jerky and pick sand off their shirts as they go on, without falter, on the devastating betrayal their once beloved Kazekage will befall onto them.
"He's got some nerve to leave us behind," they say.
"After all we've done for him, he's just going to up and leave us!?"
"And for what!? Some girl?"
"Well! She better be a goddess if he's so willing to abandon us."
It's that word that follows him, that falls from sandy tongues no matter where he goes and who he talks to. Abandon.
Isn't that what Hinata said Gaara did to her?
For years, such a word couldn't be uttered about the Kazekage; and now, suddenly, it's all that surrounds his name. Betrayer. Abandoner.
Sasuke can't say he has any reason to be suspicious, but it doesn't feel right on his shoulders.
He knows betrayal. He knows abandonment.
Gaara, from what he can tell, has yet to do anything to earn those names. It's all what ifs. It's expectation, but this expectation hasn't happened yet.
Why are they so sure?
Sasuke asks a man this question, and he blubbers, and then he pauses, squinting.
"Zaiaku," he eventually says. "He told us. He used to work with the Kazekage. He knows him more than we do."
Ah, the ex-councilman. "Where can I find him?" Sasuke asks.
"Not here. His right-hand is always around, though. Not hard to miss."
And he wasn't lying.
It takes less than five minutes to find this supposed right-hand. In the midst of Suna villagers, Sasuke recognizes the garb of a Konoha civilian, the dull greens and blues standing out from the reds and beiges of Suna. He's a scrawny-looking thing, tall but wimpy, and his head turns this way and that like he's expecting to get caught.
When Sasuke approaches, his thin eyes dart his way, and he stares in recognition at the Uchiha fan printed on the shoulder of his sleeve.
"Wasn't expectin' you around these parts," he mutters, words almost slurred together. He doesn't reek of alcohol, but he talks like he's had a few too many shots. "Got tired of Konoha, Uchiha? Can't say I blame you. Seems like we go from one corrupt asshat to another, eh? Can't escape 'em."
He picks at his ears and relaxes against the sandstone wall, face clothed in a speck of shade that early morning.
"You're Zaiaku's right-hand, I hear."
"That's right." The man's chest puffs out like he's suddenly big and macho once associated with someone like Zaiaku. "Razutshi's the name. I ain't as big-worded as he is, but if you need anything, I'll be the one runnin' the info to him." He gives Sasuke a look over. "I'm sure Boss'll be surprised to hear an Uchiha joinin' our efforts."
"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Sasuke drones. "I need to understand the movement first."
"What's to understand? We need a new Kazekage, and Boss just happens to be a good container — or, hell, whatever it is. You get what I'm saying."
"Why?" Sasuke presses. "Why do we need a new Kazekage?"
Razutshi's face scrunches up, and he gives the crowd around them an obvious stare. "Haven't been listening much, huh? The guy's going to ditch this place the second he finds someone else to do his evil bidding —"
"What sort of evil bidding?" No one has yet to list off the wrongdoings of the Kazekage thus far.
And from the looks of it, Razetshi's not going to be the breaker of that trend. He huffs and scratches his chin, shining with sweat. "Well," he says, "put it this way — if your dad up 'n left you, you wouldn't be too thrilled if your mom up 'n married the guy he picked out for her. Get it?"
Ignoring the obvious flaw to that argument when it pertains to Sasuke, it's not a satisfying answer at all.
Gaara, though he hates to admit it, is onto something.
This is going nowhere. So Sasuke decides to switch tactics.
"So why do you trust Zaiaku, then?"
That foggy sort of expression wipes away immediately.
"Get this." Razutshi kicks off the wall, animated. "He used to be a councilman, so he knows the job. He approved of a lot of Suna's recent changes, so he's got the village's wellbeing in mind, too. Not to mention he's had my back for a while." He pats his clothes, gesturing to the obvious Konoha colors. "Four years ago, me 'nd this guy Tanta didn't have much. We were on our own, no one willin' to help us — 'til Zaiaku came by. Took us under his wing and promised a better future — and he sticks to his word, y'know. So I've been followin' him ever sense."
Tanta is not a name Sasuke was expecting to hear come from Razutshi's mouth, but it makes a few things jingle and click in his head. Without much else, Sasuke disappears into the crowd, and Razutshi frowns to himself, wondering if all traitors had bad manners or if it was just this one in particular.
...
Sasuke drops his written interview notes on Gaara's desk.
Unimpressed, the Kazekage picks through a few. "This is less than two-hundred," he murmurs. "And you still have thirty minutes."
"That's because of this." Sasuke points to Razutshi's interview, and Gaara leans forward, reading it over. "I know Tanta. He was charged with conspiring against Konoha not too long ago."
And if Zaiaku just so happens to be affiliated with someone with that sort of history, Sasuke's sure to suspect that Gaara might be right — that there is more to all of this than mere distrust of the Kazekage.
"I'll look this over," Gaara says, sitting back in his chair with the notes in hand.
Sasuke stays a moment longer than he'd like.
Not for any particular reason. It just hits him in a melodramatic sort of way that he's standing where Hinata used to stand. Gaara doesn't follow his line of thought; he dives deeper into the notes, and Sasuke slips away, forgotten, feeling strange.
...
He stops by the kitchen to grab a serving of dinner, and then he reaches the medic wing. The nin in her long coat lifts her head upon his arrival, and she slips from her chair and meets him at the door.
"Nothing to worry about," she grumbles, like he's a kid she's been forced to play along with. "He didn't come in. Lord Gaara only came by once —"
"For what?"
"To ask how she was, naturally." She jeers at him. "Despite whatever you may think, Uchiha, my lord is not heartless."
And, truthfully, he had thought that. But not anymore — or rather, he's not sure what to think.
All Sasuke knows is that, for a man so determined to act like he hasn't a care in the world for Hinata, his actions don't equate to his words.
"I'm not interested in visiting Hinata."
Liar.
...
Hinata picks at her food while he's explaining his findings about Tanta and Zaiaku from Razutshi. Her chopsticks lift pieces of spinach to her mouth, but she hardly eats anything, instead dropping back onto her plate, only to pick it up again. It's a cycle she falls into when she's distracted, and Sasuke quickens up his report before taking her hand and helping her gather up a proper serving of food.
"You should eat," he tells her. "You'll need energy when you get back on your feet."
Her smile is tight. It makes Sasuke's own appetite sizzle out. "Right."
He takes a look towards the medic, sees she's busy with someone else across the room, and pulls his chair closer to Hinata's bed. "You're worried."
It takes a lot of effort for her to stop the shake in her knuckles. "When you spoke to him, did he . . . say anything?"
"Nothing." He won't mention how he practically acted like the name 'Hyuuga Hinata' meant nothing to him. It would do her no good, and it would just piss Sasuke off. "It was mission talk."
She nods and takes the bite of food he offers, chewing and swallowing before speaking again. "But when I'm the one reporting, what if —"
"I won't let anything happen," Sasuke says. "I won't allow even the possibility."
Hinata's eyes lift, and they're in that soft sort of glow that tells him she doesn't believe him, but she's thankful he's trying to cheer her up, to protect her. "Thank you."
He scrapes her chopsticks along the plate to gather more food, and she eats it with a little more vigor. Both of her hands hold her glass to her mouth as she drinks her water and washes down the last of lunch, and in the dim lavender of her eyes, Sasuke sees the name Gaara float around like it was written there in ink.
And there's that dagger of jealousy. Sasuke wants a rag to wash that name, that person, from her thoughts. He wants his own quill and ink to scrawl his own name a thousand times in her mind. She'll think about the name Sasuke, and she'll be okay. She'll survive, because she has for so long, and she can trust him with what remains of her heart.
She can.
She can trust him.
When she pulls the glass from her mouth, he leans forward to occupy it with his own. Hinata turns her head, and he stills, then pulls back.
Okay.
No kiss.
That's expected. Not the right mood and everything. High stress and the likes.
He can wait.
And when she peeks at him from the corner of her eye, daring herself, expecting him to leave at her rejection, Sasuke makes it a show that he's not going anywhere. He gets comfortable in his chair, and her hand slides over his, thankful.
...
Hinata's free from the ward by the next morning. Under Sasuke's careful inspection, he realizes she's not pushing herself for the sake of the mission, and they go off to Ambassador Ki's office. Again, Sasuke gives the rundown, explaining that they'll need documents on Tanta sent over from Konoha. Ki gets to work on a request letter to send their way, and he sends an apologetic smile Hinata's way when they're out the door.
...
Outside, exposed to horrid turrets of sandy wind and Suna heat, Hinata says, rather meekly, "I feel silly."
Disguise is normal for a shinobi, so Sasuke doesn't exactly understand what is 'silly' about using a normal, ninja tactic. Looking over her person, he thinks it's done rather well. Gone are those obvious, Hyuuga eyes, replaced with a sandy brown. Her hair remains dark, but short, and she's about seven centimeters taller and with freckles decorating her cheeks.
No, he wouldn't call her silly looking.
He'd almost dare to call her cute — not because her features are remarkably so, but because, underneath everything, he knows he's still looking at Hyuuga Hinata.
"You're fine," he says.
Her smile is all Hinata, and he wheezes slightly when a ton of adoration beats the air out of his lungs.
They make their way into the village, skirting through clogs of people in the streets. Hinata's eyes drift to the cliffs every so often, and Sasuke pretends he doesn't notice. They search the crowds for Razutshi, though they'd much prefer a meeting with Zaiaku, but both are proving to be reclusive that morning. Rather than either of them, they instead come across a bellow of screams and yells coming from a long, white building that looks almost untouched by the wear and tear of the desert climate.
Hinata rushes over first, muttering something Sasuke cannot make out. A boy no older than thirteen is yanking and clawing at a protestor's shirt, kicking sand and rocks and whatever else his feet can reach. A crowd of children hug the white wall, squawking for the boy's victory.
"Leave us alone!" he screeches, stomping on the protester's shoe. "We don't want to hear it! Go away!"
Banged up, the protestor looks ready to let loose on the kid, but Sasuke swoops in, grabbing the boy by the back of his collar and pulling him back as Hinata stops the man from throwing any punches. The children squeak, and the man stops any attempts of getting free of Hinata's hold by one look at Sasuke's face.
Even if the Konoha traitor might be on their side, that doesn't mean shit in circumstances such as this.
He disappears before a word can be uttered, and the boy agitatedly rubs at his face.
"What do you think you're doing?" Hinata asks the boy. The other children flock around them in a ring, shuffling and twitching, unsure what to say. "You shouldn't attack people like that."
"It wasn't his fault," a girl cries.
"That guy wouldn't leave us alone," another says.
The boy doesn't try to fight his way out of Sasuke's hold. All signs of violence slip from his face, and he frowns at the ground. "You don't get it," he mumbles. "I was trying to protect Gaara."
Sasuke catches Hinata's eye, and she touches the boy's shoulder, gently pushing him in the direction of the too-white building. He and the children drift along their legs, snaking inside the air-conditioned entrance. Sasuke takes a gander at the sign over the door and realizes this is an orphanage — no wonder there are so many kids around.
"Don't tell," the boy begs Hinata. "Please don't tell them."
Hinata's stern scowl lifts, and she explains she's merely taking him to the nurse so he can get his bruises and minor scratches checked at. Hinata leads the way, and the children follow like ducklings to a mother. Sasuke overhears a few of them whispering, wondering how she knows how to get to the nurses' office without help.
Once the boy is properly being checked, Hinata then turns to the other children.
"He mentioned that he was trying to protect Lord Gaara," she says. "Can someone explain what he means by that."
Several try to answer, talking over each other. Sasuke snorts and drops his hand on another boy's head, naming him to be the one to talk first.
"It's because of all that's happening!" he pipes. "All the crowds and pr-pro . . ."
"Protests," Hinata offers.
"Yeah. Everyone's mad at him."
"But not us!" Another boy steps up, mousy hair sticking all over the place. "Gaara's always been on our side, so we're on his!"
"That's right!"
"We support Gaara!"
"It's 'cuz we was scared that guy would be like the other one," a girl mumbles.
"Other one?" Hinata prompts.
The girl doesn't answer. Instead, the boy leaves the nurses' office, a few bandages sticking to his face, but looking perfectly healthy. He towers over the others, looking like a leader, and his face is dark and murky when he explains, "That guy Zaiaku used to come bother us. Told us all these stories about how Gaara's gonna betray the village."
"We didn't believe him!"
"No," he says, "but he said something to . . . to Hoshino. Something bad. After that, Gaara prohibited Zaiaku from ever coming to any of the orphanages in Suna."
Great. Not only is this guy associated with the likes of Tanta, but now he's a menace to children. No wonder Gaara suspects him so strongly.
Hinata's earthy eyes look like they could morph back into their original, byakugan stare at any moment.
"What did Zaiaku say to him?"
"Dunno. He never told. But we know it had to be bad."
The children quiet, like they're afraid to talk. Because they're strangers or because they understand the weight of the situation? Sasuke suspects it's a bit of both.
Understanding, Hinata crouches down to be on their level. "We need to talk to Hoshino," she says, gently. "Where is he?"
The boy sways from one leg to the other, then back. "He got adopted."
They both know what that means. In order to find Hoshino and talk to him, they'll need the administrators to contact his adopted parents and request a visit with him — a request that Gaara will have to ask for first hand. And with everything going around, even if the administrators do accept his request, there's no telling what the parents will respond with.
But this is a lead they cannot let die.
Hinata stands, thanking the children, and Sasuke watches as realization fills her disguised gaze.
They'll have to talk to Gaara about this.
...
In Kazekage's Tower, Hinata drops her disguise and paces around the floors, looking far too pale.
"Hinata," he tries.
She turns her head to him, then away, then to him again. "I know I'd have to see him eventually," she says, "but now that the time is here, I-I'm not ready."
Her loop is an oval along the birch floorboards, narrow and short, allowing her legs to race down it with ease. Sasuke lets her pace for a while, and when she lags, he gets in her way and stops her in her tracks. Hinata almost sidesteps him, then stops, looking up at him.
"I won't let anything happen," he tells her.
Her eyes squeeze shut. "I know," she whispers, "but I'm scared."
A terrified shinobi is not an often sight at their level of power. He doesn't think of her any less for it, but even so, Sasuke's not sure what to do about that fear. He wasn't trained to sooth because shinobi don't do that. He had partners like Suigetsu, who leapt into battles without a single iota of fear. He fought along the side of the likes of Juugo, who passively destroyed anything in their way.
Fear is a genin thing. Fear is Naruto's shaking form against Zabuza. Fear is Sakura being held back by her hair by the enemy.
Sasuke ebbs in his thoughts for a while, and then he says, "Four minutes."
Hinata stares. "Huh?"
"We'll only be in there for four minutes," he says. "I won't let us stay any longer than that."
Hinata turns to the staircase leading up to the Kazekage's office.
"Four minutes," she repeats, nodding. "Okay. Four minutes."
They walk up the stairs and find that all-too-familiar door, and Hinata allows herself to hesitate one, last time. Sasuke doesn't push her. He waits until her hand catches the latch, and then they enter together.
...
The Kazekage listens with tepid ease as they enter and report their findings. Sasuke speaks first, letting Hinata adjust to the blank stare Gaara sends both of them from his spot behind his desk. He explains their run-in with the boy from the orphanage and what they had heard from him.
"We'd like to talk with Hoshino."
Hinata's voice finds the air, and Sasuke spots that bit of humanity returning to Gaara. Gone is the blank stare, turning away like he's found something awfully particular along the wall. Perhaps it only takes one word from Hinata for the guy to feel an ounce of shame.
Coward.
"I'll send an official request to the orphanage," he says, and though his tone is close to deadpan, it's not that lifeless drawl Sasuke's heard before. "They'll send it along to his parents, and I suspect we'll hear back from them in a matter of days."
He scribbles something down, regains his unbothered facade, and looks Hinata straight in the eye.
"Anything else?" he asks.
"No, Lord Kazekage."
Even tone, even posture: the makings of a brave kunoichi.
Kami, Sasuke has to fight the yearn to lean over and kiss her right there, in front of that damn Kazekage's face. It's a biting desire that Sasuke has to swallow down. Gaara nods and bids them a silent farewell, turning to his work, not catching how Sasuke's hand grabs Hinata and practically drags her out of the office.
She breathes a sigh, but hardly catches her breath by the time Sasuke takes her a ways down the hall, only to turn around and push her against the wall, kissing her before a question can she her mouth. He spells his pride against her lips, praising her with his teeth, worshiping her with his tongue. Hinata's hands tangle into his hair, and her sigh is pleased, now, and thoroughly distracted.
Any thoughts of Gaara are momentarily washed away, and they're both content with that.
...
Maybe there's something wrong — beyond Suna.
Maybe there's something wrong with him, because it's one kiss. He's kissed her plenty of times, and they all light a fire in him, and they all make his lungs clench and his heart sing opera — but this one is different. She's so small, and she's so warm, and even the touch of her hands make him weak.
His fingers snake behind her skull, cushioning her head against the wall, and he pushes against her a little more.
Maybe . . . he had been worried. Not terribly, but even a little bit of worry can go a long way.
Suna changes people, he hears, and maybe Sasuke was scared it would change her. She had wanted space, and he understood that. He'd respect it as long as his short, Uchiha patience allowed him to — after all, he waited a decade to confess to her. If he can wait that long, then he can wait a few days so she can adjust and get comfortable with herself again.
But what if it lasted after they returned to Suna? What if she kept turning her head away and started putting distance between them?
Don't think like that.
He releases her mouth, snapping his head to the side. He felt fire in his throat. He didn't want to burn her.
Her hands slide down his back, and Hinata rests her head against his chest and catches her breath. It helps him relax, and he leans into her.
Who would have thought a few days without intimacy would fill Uchiha Sasuke with so much doubt.
...
For the next few days, Sasuke will find any moment and excuse to kiss her.
Letter comes from Konoha, explaining that they'll be sending a nin with the classified documents in four days' time. Ambassador Ki looks pleased with his work, and Sasuke manages to peck Hinata's mouth when he's bent behind his desk to bring out his celebratory sake.
They see Kankuro every so often. He tries his best to be friendly and to ignore the elephant in the room that is Uchiha Sasuke. Hinata seems more at ease with him than his little brother, smiling when he tries to joke and accepting his kind offers to share lunch somewhere outside of the stuffiness that fills the tower. Even with his kindness, Sasuke has to fight the wish to kiss Hinata in front of him, as well — perhaps not so much to drill it in his mind that he hasn't a chance, but for him to tell it all to his brother.
Maybe Hinata's able to read his mind during these circumstances, for she always eases him with a kiss once Kankuro is gone.
...
Sometimes, he wakes to an empty bed.
When this happens, Sasuke first explores the hall that leads to the piano room, checking it in case she happens to stumble upon it once more.
The first night, it's locked.
The second night, it's still locked.
By the third, Sasuke realizes Gaara must have had it locked for the same reasons he goes looking for her there before ultimately finding her outside, taking a breezy stroll through the harsh cold of a desert's night.
Ever since they came, the halls have been quiet.
Hinata had told him piano used to sing through the tower when she stayed here.
Is that for Hinata's sake as well?
Somehow, that irritates him, and he wipes sand from her mouth before kissing her and taking her back to their room for a few more hours of sleep.
...
Temari is a face they don't see as much as Kankuro, and when they do, she always seems to be sinking daggers into Sasuke's skull. Sometimes, she joins them for the shared meals Kankuro invites them to, and while she tries to be amiable towards Hinata, that same hospitality is not offered in any way to Sasuke.
And to say he hasn't a clue why Temari would hate his guts would be a lie. Sasuke's got a pretty good idea why.
He doesn't mind it until Hinata catches on, mentioning her grumpiness in those short moments when they lie and bed and just take in each other's warmth before falling asleep. Even through the dark, Sasuke could see the worry dancing on her face, so he told himself that he'd deal with it on his own time soon.
And he does.
The next evening, when Hinata leaves dinner early to wash herself of the grime collected that day, Sasuke lingers along the table and waits for Temari to acknowledge that he's not going anywhere without talking to him.
Thankfully, she's observant, and she gives a heavy sigh and lifts from her chair.
"I've got three guesses why you don't like me."
"Save it," she snaps, then frowns, understanding there's no reason for her irritation. "No — sorry. Look, I'm more pissed at the circumstances. It's not you. Not really."
This is what he had figured. Sasuke has lived a long life being hated by people. He can tell when they hate him and when they hate the things surrounding him.
"You don't like that I'm with Hinata," he says.
"Something like that."
"Because you want her to be with him." He doesn't have to specify who. They both know.
Temari's jaw clenches. "Yes."
Sasuke tries to put himself in her shoes. If Sai or Naruto or Sakura gave up on someone, would he still wish for them to be together? If Sai left Ino, would he still fight for Ino to get back with him?
No.
There's no way he would.
"He betrayed her."
Temari unclenches her fists, and her face relaxes into something somber. "My brother is a stupid man," she agrees, "and, yes, Hinata deserves more than what he gave her — but no matter what, I will always know that he loves her, and he made her leave because of that love."
. . . What?
He betrayed her because he loved her? "I —"
"But you're right," she says. "No matter the reasonings, Hinata's with you, and I apologize for how I've been acting."
No — but now he's confused.
That doesn't make sense.
You do not betray someone you love.
Temari bows politely and leaves, and Sasuke stays behind, frowning, chakra sizzling through his channels.
...
He's . . . not Gaara.
Sasuke knows this. He's cited it plenty of times. To himself, to Hinata. He's not Gaara, and he won't ever be like him.
That's still true, only now . . . it's different.
He's not Gaara, and that might not be a good thing.
Because Temari told him that Gaara is a stupid man, not a heartless one. Because something happened, and if Sasuke believes what Temari said, then Gaara had to have let Hinata go because of love.
How can that happen?
What makes someone leave you because of love?
Sasuke doesn't get it, and he doesn't think he ever will. It's a foreign language. It's a girl with alien eyes that, for some reason, your family adores and you just don't get it.
Why!?
Why would he ever —
And how could he . . .
How does someone get in the state of mind to decide that, even though they may love someone with all their heart, they have to leave them — to let them go? How do they look into themselves and think, 'Yes, I have to do this?' only for months to pass, and suddenly they're back, and you're faced with that person all over again. Maybe you still love them, but you pretend not to — you only ask about their state of wellness in the cold secrecy of the hallway, when no one's around. You only hold them early in the dark morning because, fuck, they're lost and they're hurting because of you — and you can't leave them like that.
You're not heartless.
You're a stupid man . . . but not . . . .
...
Selfless.
No matter how he looks at it, it's selfless. Sasuke wants it to be selfish. He wants another reason to hate the guy, but —
But if something happened — if he had to let her go — because she was in danger, or because she had to go back to Konoha, or for some other important reason — then that would be selfless, wouldn't it. He'd be alone, and she'd hate him, but at least she was safe . . . or where she was meant to be . . . or . . . something . . . .
Selfless love.
And that is why Uchiha Sasuke cannot be Gaara.
Because he may be a changed man, and he may be acting on the good will of Konoha — but Sasuke is a selfish monster.
There is no good reason he can think of to convince him to leave Hinata.
The world can rot.
Hell can leak over the lands.
War can break through villages. People can perish. Homes can be destroyed.
The Kazekage — the Hokage — they can ALL be on their damn hands and knees, begging, and Sasuke will happily ignore them if it means one more day with Hinata. Another hour. Another minute.
Selfless love is not the kind Sasuke has.
He knows this, and he even hates it — but he won't change a thing about it.
...
Gaara locks the piano room door so Hinata doesn't accidentally stumble into it again.
Gaara sends Kankuro on small wellness checks because he worries, and he cares — no matter how he pretends, he fucking cares.
But Sasuke?
He goes into that shared room of theirs, and he finds her standing to greet him, smile simple and unaware. Her mouth opens to speak, but he sprints forward, and he yanks her into him and kisses her until she can't breathe. He takes in all her air, and he burns it, and he feels her tremble with a need for oxygen — but mostly with pleasure.
Uchiha Sasuke has a love like a wildfire. It eats, and it conquers, and it grows to an overwhelming degree in a blink of an eye. She will be scathed with red, and her clothes will smell of smoke. She'll be his only survivor.
"Hinata." Her mouth might as well be steaming. Sweat rolls down her neck. The reflection of his sharingan is captured in her eyes, and her skin basks in his glow. "Against the wall."
As instructed, she takes two careful steps back, pressing her shoulder blades against the cool surface behind her. He reaches her in one, long stride, trapping her there, running his tongue up her neck to swipe that sweat and make her wet with him.
"Take these off," he says, already working on the first button of her blouse. Hinata works from the bottom up, meeting him at her stomach. When they're all loose, he pushes the fabric over her shoulders and down her arms, and she wags her hands free of the sleeves and lets the blouse drop to the floor. His thumb traces the bit of exposed hip bone peeking from the waistline of her pants, and she shivers and pulls that out of his way as well. Her bra is a pale peach, simple, but Sasuke thinks anything she wears looks beautiful and extravagant. His hand slides up her side, then around to the back. "This, too."
The lovely blush currently dripping down from cheeks to neck to shoulders sort of shines, mixing with the fluttering light of his blazing sharingan like two flames swallowing each other's glow. Her hands disappear behind her, and he kisses her and pushes her head against the wall, distracting her from any hesitating thoughts. She moans lightly, and her shoulders slope so she may slip off the straps and let her bra meet her pants and blouse at the floor.
She's bare before him, a goddess cloaked in red glow, flawless.
Sasuke, selfishly, wants to ruin that perfect, unblemished sight. So he drops his mouth to her neck, bites, then licks the taut skin, then sucks it until her breaths even out, only to pick up again when he moves a few centimeters lower and starts again.
"Hinata," he calls, "what do you want me to do?"
Posed against the wall, aching with buzzing nerves, she doesn't say a word. She gasps when he sucks on her collarbone, then kisses between her breasts, then lowers himself that he may reach her belly with ease, hand caressing the flexing muscles as his mouth leaves a mark — then another — then two more.
"Tell me, Hinata."
Her hips jut out, caught in that space between jaw and chest.
"With words," he tells her. With a persuading touch from his hand, her thighs part, presenting herself fully to him, inviting him in. But he purposefully trails his mouth around, kissing hip bone, biting inner thigh. "Hinata."
He breathes against her opening, and this makes her stir, staring down at him with wide eyes. He can see the line of marks he's left in his wake, and his cock pushes against the tight hold of his pants. Kami.
"Sasuke," she gasps, like smoke is filling the air, like fire is eating up all of her oxygen. "Sasuke, I . . . I want . . ."
Fuck it.
His patience breaks into shards. His thumb presses into her lower lips, separating them, and his tongue finds her clit. Her cry of ecstasy sends shocks down his arms. He teases it with the tip, then massages it with the whole of his tongue. Her body shakes. Her hips lean into him, and her hands cup his jaw, coaxing him closer, nails tickling the underside of his chin. They soon leave, however, to smack against her mouth and muffle her moans when he lowers his mouth, sliding his tongue inside, almost going breathless, himself, at how her walls clench around his tongue. The pad of his thumb still plays with her clit, turning it in small ovals.
He can feel every ebb and flow of Hinata's breath.
She rolls with his mouth. She thrums, and she bends against that hard wall, and she is drowning with him, because of him.
Mine.
He wants the halls to shake with her gasps.
Instead of piano, it will be Hinata — and, fuck, what he'd give to see that damn Kazekage's face when he realizes Hinata is begging and writhing and completely taken, captured, marked, and belonging to him, that that Konoha traitor Uchiha Sasuke with a love so fucking selfish that it almost kills.
He finds that spot inside of her, and her voice leaks between her fingers. He lifts up her leg with his hand, pinning her knee against the wall, getting a better angle to continue his tormenting strokes of his tongue.
Hinata comes with his name on her lips, barely hitting the air, but like thunder to his ears.
He laps at her until her body turns from earthquake to landslide to a sagging tremble; then, Sasuke pulls away and drops her leg, allowing her to find balance against the wall, heaving, sparkling in a sheet of sweat and the afterglow of her orgasm. One of her hands combs through his hair, gentle, affectionate — almost comforting
He's never seen her so . . . .
"Sasuke," she breathes, finding his ear, then his chin, tipping his face upwards to find her eyes. "Are you angry?"
Angry?
He stands, a hiss of chakra burning the back of his throat.
Had she thought that the whole time — that he was angry? While he was fucking her with his mouth, finding all the right spots and the right tempo to make her feel good and alive and loved, did she have it in her mind that he was angry? Upset? Frustrated?
"No!" he snaps, but that's a lie, and a miserable one, too. "Yes. Sort of." Gods, how pathetic can he get? Now he's ruined another moment between them, all because he can't get a hold of his emotions. "I'm sorry."
Her cheeks are still flushed, and her eyes still crinkle with that sort of crystalized satisfaction, but her brows dip, and her red mouth purses in thought.
"Have I —"
"No," he says. "No, of course not."
She steps over her pile of clothes, joining him in the middle of the room. He's sure she's cold, so he grabs the robe she keeps folded by the futon and pulls it over her shoulders, working with just one hand to tie it at the front, but she stops him.
"Can you explain, please?"
He ought to, but it's going to sound awfully juvenile when he puts it into words.
"I'm a little jealous," he admits, "and a little irritated with myself."
"You . . . aren't jealous of Gaara, are you?" Hell, she catches on quick. He tries to look away, but she won't let him. Her palm brushes his cheek, turning his gaze back to her. "Why?"
He doesn't want to say he thinks the guy still has feelings for her — not now. Not when it's just the two of them, late at night.
"I get it's insane. He left you. Abandoned you. What's there to be jealous of?"
"I'm not saying it's wrong of you," she says. "I'm just trying to understand." Both of her hands take his face, soothing his nerves, the edging chakra that burns and scratches at his missing arm. "Because you have saved me so many times, Sasuke."
Not a single memory comes to his mind where he's saved her — but, perhaps, she means in a different sense. Because she's saved him, too, even if she didn't actively know it. Those sugar packets were his saving grace from darkness, and even when he was with Orochimaru, even after he killed his brother and learned the truth — through war, through hardships — just her memory was enough to keep him from collapsing into the monster he was holding back.
Sasuke never thought he'd be the savior of anything.
But Hinata is so genuine and beautiful; he wouldn't be able to distrust her even if he wanted to.
"Did I scare you?" He eyes a few red marks on her neck. "Did I hurt you?"
Hinata smiles and rests her chin on his shoulder. "No," she whispers, "you made me feel wonderful."
His heart, along with the rest of his body, stirs. He tries to ignore it, but it's as overpowering and wild as it was mere moments ago when he trapped her against the wall.
Sasuke has a selfish love.
". . . Then . . . can we do it again?"
Thankfully, Hinata welcomes that selfishness with open arms and a kindness Sasuke doesn't think he deserves.
...
The futon is much more comfortable for her.
What was he thinking? Against the wall? The hard, cold wall?
Selfish Uchiha.
"Stop that." She flicks his cheek from below, grinning. "I can read your mind, Sasuke. Just so you know, I thought the wall was very sexy."
Her robe is open wide for his viewing pleasures, and he's pulled his shirt off and works on unlooping the belt from his slacks as he tells himself, not for the first time and not for the last time, that he's a very lucky man to have Hyuuga Hinata in his bed, his life, his heart. A breath of a laugh escapes him, and he leans down, almost to kiss her, but then remembers where his mouth had previously been and stops.
Isn't that rude? To kiss her after eating her out?
But I want to kiss her.
He scowls at the conundrum, and Hinata, who has perceptively declared she can read his mind, smiles once more and brings his face close, peppering it with kisses. His nose, his cheek, his eyelids — everywhere, leaving no patch of skin untouched. Her love is gentle and sweet and lighting a blast of desire within him.
Belt thrown to the side, he pulls down the front of his pants. Hinata takes a pause in her barrage of kisses to rub her palm against the bulge in his boxers, and he croaks and vibrates.
"Careful," he groans.
"I feel bad," she whispers. "You were like this the whole time."
He has to remove the remaining articles of clothes carefully from his body, for he's so startlingly turned on that even the simple act of taking off his slacks has him panting and aching impatiently. Shit. Some boyfriend he is, where he can only pleasure her with his mouth —
"You're doing it again." Hinata frowns.
He tears open the condom wrapper and slides it on with practiced ease, and then he moves over her, kissing every mark he's left on her body. Half of him feels bad, but the other half is thrilled at the sight of himself on her body, so obvious to the normal eye, so clearly there.
He kisses down to her breasts, taking one of her nipples in his mouth, swirling his tongue around it and over it. His hand aches to touch the other, but it stays at her side, keeping him upright and preventing his body from crushing her. He goes from one to the other, enjoying her squeaks and airy gasps. When her hips lift to grind against him, he feels how wet she is, so he pulls back to slide into her, tip, then base — all the way in, until he's completely taken, and she shutters and presses her forehead against his.
He rocks, barely thrusting, simply enjoying her warmth for a while. When her body arches, he thrusts once, then again, and she meets him and turns her hips in semi-circles, every so often rubbing her clit flat against his skin. By her choked gasps, she likes this, so he tries to angle himself so that whenever he's deep inside her, he rubs against her clit, and her insides spasm and milk him to his very edge.
Her bangs fall back, and her skin is pink with grandeur. Her lashes kiss her cheeks. Her lips are swollen, and Sasuke is once again tempted to kiss her. Gods, he wants to kiss her — and hold her — and trap her against him until their skin stick together. He wants his arm around her, enveloping her like she does him. But he can't. He only has one arm. The other, partly missing, just hangs useless at his side, and another wave of self-hatred hits him and makes him pause.
He doesn't want it to happen again — he doesn't want to be angry when he's making love to her. He doesn't want her to look up and see his face morph into anything but a devoted, unparalleled love that only he can feel for her.
Sweat drips from his chin. He pants like he hasn't breathed for years.
Hinata's legs hook around him, keeping him in place. "What is it?"
"My arm," he says.
Veins barely touch her skin. Chakra is ready to pour into her eyes, but her byakugan stays deactivated. "Does it hurt?"
"No." His teeth grit together. "I just . . . ."
Hinata waits, but he can't force another word out, no matter how he tries. But she understands, because Hinata always understands, because they have too much in common. She does not have a missing arm, but she's lost something before, and he loved her despite it. And likewise, she will love him.
Back lifting from the futon, her mouth reaches his left shoulder, and she sinks her teeth just enough to make his heart stop, and then she licks and sucks and ebbs the minute pain away with the soft touches of her mouth. Shoulder, then bicep, then tricep. She kisses and nips the line of tendon that reaches the end of his arm, and then she kisses that until the skin feels like it's a firework, lit and about to fly into the sky to burst into thousands of lights and colors.
"Keep going," she says. "Please."
Overwhelmed, Sasuke does not need to be told twice. He thrusts into her, harder, deeper, and she gasps into his shoulder and holds onto him, giving him that close feeling he was hungry for. He can feel all of her, and she can feel every awake and buzzing part of him — and he feels like he belongs, and he feels good, and he feels like he's loved by the entire world.
"I love you." He kisses her forehead. "I love you, Hinata."
Every confession is sealed on her skin. She gasps, close, and digs her fingers into the curve of his spine.
"I love you," he repeats, over and over, until that's all she can hear.
Hinata's head snaps back, capturing his mouth, and all previous worries sink away, replaced with her tongue, her desperate movements, then mold of her lips against his. She squeezes him, all of him, when she comes for a second time, and his eyes blaze with crimson lilies when he follows her, breathless, never allowing her mouth to leave his. He kisses her until her hands slide from his body, and then he holds her with his one arm, the other still brimming with love.
"I was waiting," she whispers, "because I know it's dangerous, but —" A final kiss to his chin, and then she grins up at him. "I love you, too."
Arousal hits his body again, and he groans and buries his face in her chest.
"Imp," he hisses.
She plays with his hair until he calms down, and then she fits on her robe and waits for him to come to the bath with her.
...
In the morning, she has not disappeared. She's perfectly situated with his arm around her, face void of any worries or troubles. Soon, they will have to wake and face another day of duties. Kankuro will brief them on this or that, and Temari will make tea and try to join in on pleasant conversation.
If they're lucky, Gaara will keep himself in his office like he has since they've gotten here.
But there's a slight stir of sound coming from outside the room, and it takes Sasuke a while to identify what it is.
Piano.
It's started up again.
And Sasuke's not sure if that's a good sign or not.