Day 23
- Poetry Spoken By A Simple Man -
When Hinata sleeps, she holds his pinky and ring finger in the gentle grasp of her hand. Breath warm and even against his knuckles, she keeps that small part of him close, that 1/60th of Sasuke that no one else would take note of. Her nails are small and peach through the very dim light of the room. It's far beyond dusk. They are deep into the night.
Yet, still, Sasuke sits awake.
Konoha has replied with information about Tanta, but that is not what scurries around in Sasuke's head, keeping him awake. He does, of course, think about Konoha, and he thinks about Suna, and he thinks a little about Hoshino. There's something about a child that makes a wasteland more homely. Suna is not Sasuke's home — unless it's Hinata's, because Hinata is his home. But when you add a child to the mix, the dry sands turn into sweeping lands of intrigue, and the heat becomes bearable, and the ire you feel for the Kazekage doesn't die, per se, but it fluctuates. It makes you understand him a little, even if you do not want to.
And there's a woman next to you, breathing her dreams into your single hand — and soon, she will come with you back to Konoha. But almost, for a second, that miracle child almost kept her here.
That scares Sasuke. Because he never would have seen her again if she stayed here. Because all that he would have of Hyuuga Hinata is that memory of a small girl who watched out for him, who gifted him lemon water and small packets of sugar with messages.
"What's y-your name again?" he'd hear right as he's about to drift off to sleep in his small closet-of-a-room in Kakashi's home.
"I-It's okay if you don't have flower eyes," would echo in his head when he's on his way to gather money from Shikamaru after completing another tedious and boring D-Rank.
And, sometimes, he might hear a whispered "come back safely" when he's scraping dried paint off of Sai's patio.
If Hinata never came back — that is all he would have.
That's it.
...
"Sasuke."
Hinata is still asleep.
But, from the dust sprouts another one — that small, big-eyed, pink-faced, twitchy Hinata from the past. Her nose is different, and her eyes look a little dark in the room, but it's her. A walking memory. She goes to his bag placed idly on the table by the wall, and then she looks at him.
"The box," she says, her voice a little strange to his ears — for he has not listened to young Hinata speak since he was a child himself.
Sasuke carefully slides his fingers out of the real Hinata's grasp. He stands, comes to his imagination's side, and pulls apart the strings that loosely keep his bag shut at the mouth. His hand disappears inside, and he pulls out the cleaned and painted music box with ease. When he had been packing for this trip, he hadn't been exactly sure why he brought the box with him. Somehow, he felt like he should.
"Granny Kuu said it's a song about a phoenix," little Hinata reminds him.
"That's right." He looks down his nose and smiles. "And we know what that means."
His imagination grins, cheeks puffed up and glowing. She hugs his leg. He doesn't feel anything, but he pretends he does. If he was young, she'd be able to wrap her arms around his whole body, and he'd be able to pretend to feel the warmth, the sense of ease and peace.
"But . . . Hinata didn't remember the song when she found the box," she murmurs.
Sasuke fits the music box under his arm. "You're Hinata," he reminds her.
Her almost-gray eyes squint, like she doesn't understand him.
The real Hinata does not toss or turn in her sleep. Her bare arms curl under her pillow, so Sasuke situates the quilt over her shoulders before he steps out into the hallway. Little Hinata reaches up and grasps the empty air where his left hand would be.
"Do you think the Kazekage is awake?" she wonders.
Sasuke's sure of it.
And if he isn't, then he'll be getting a not-so-pleasant awakening.
...
The Kazekage's office, as expected, is occupied that early, early morning.
Gaara is sat back in his chair, not doing anything that would warrant him being up at this point of time. His eyes are that sort of unrestful red that, if Sasuke had a mirror at present, would probably match his own. He stares blankly into the room, and he does not move or blink or start when Sasuke comes in and stands until his knees nearly knock into the front of his desk.
Little Hinata has to stand on the tips of her toes to see Gaara fully. Her mouth is plump with a curious purse, and her strange-and-not-exactly-Hinata nose scrunches, as well.
"Lord Kazekage is tired," she says, "and scary."
Sasuke bites back a fatigued smile. At least his imagination of her isn't smitten with the Kazekage.
With ease, Sasuke takes the music box out from under his arm and places it on the desk so that the part that opens faces Gaara. At last, he notices the guest present in his office and barely grants him a look before his attention floats along the box. Sasuke sees recognition flare up in the Kazekage's eyes. He does not need to open it to know it is Suna made, but Gaara does, and a familiar, quiet song plays between them.
Gaara lets the lid slam shut. Little Hinata jumps in surprise.
"Where did you get this?"
"In Konoha," Sasuke says. "Hinata found it in an abandoned house and gave it to me."
Gaara leans out of his chair a bit, vaguely curious, even if his dead eyes say otherwise.
Sasuke opens the music box again. Little Hinata dances to the soft melody, her socks slipping and sliding against the smooth wood. "Back then, she didn't recognize this. Now, she might, but she didn't then." And for extra measure, so he knows fully well that Gaara understands, Sasuke adds in a cold tone, "It doesn't mean anything to her anymore."
Aggravatingly, the Kazekage remains quiet. He does not shut the box or throw it out the window or anything of the sort. He just listens, and he just looks at the painted water inside, and he just . . . stays there.
"I know why you won't tell Hinata that Zaiaku is the cause for her nightmares."
And Little Hinata adds, in a voice only Sasuke can hear, "He still loves her."
Don't say that, Sasuke thinks. But it's true. Gaara loves her, but he wants her to hate him. He drove her away, after all. He betrayed her. And Sasuke can't even say it's the stupidest thing he's ever heard because — because he understands. People like him and Gaara can handle hate. It is comfortable. It is normal. They eat it for lunch and rub it into their skin to protect themselves from the blistering sun. If Hinata hates Gaara, then it's fine. It's normal.
But if she loves him — after all he's done to her — then Gaara will suffer, and so will she, and nothing good will ever come from it. She will be too miserable to go to Konoha and meet a stranger she used to know as a girl — and he, though clearly in love with her, will not have a chance because the man that hurt her the most still has her heart, her soul.
And that is why Sasuke, despite it all, is grateful.
He hates the man — Kami, does he — but in the same breath, he wants to thank him.
Like a slight gust of wind, Gaara rises, takes the music box in both hands, and rounds the desk and goes to the door, where he waits, expectant.
"Come with me."
Little Hinata is back at Sasuke's side, holding his missing hand, and Sasuke follows.
...
He takes him through the tower, and every now and then, they stop, and Gaara notes something that Hinata had a part in. A painting of a Suna sunset she bought from a local painter. A rug she once accidentally spilled tea on when Kankuro was chasing her around the place. A seat by a window where she'd sit and wait for him while he was in council meetings. They must have stopped two dozen times before, finally, they reach a part of the tower Sasuke did not know existed. It's a wide corridor with two doors at the very end, and Gaara plucks a key from his robes' pocket to unlock the left door and let it sweep open.
Inside, Gaara switches on a lamp, and golden light fills the room.
Almost instantly, like it's instinct, like it's a primal recognition deep within his body, Sasuke realizes what this room is. It's nearly empty, aside from the lamp and a sky blue, short dresser and a small bed that Little Hinata looks at with wonder, understanding that she could fit in this bed with ease.
A child's room.
If Hinata had stayed — if Gaara hadn't betrayed her — this would have been their child's room.
Sasuke's throat feels knotted. Little Hinata switches to the hand he still has, and he looks down at her ghastly, gray eyes.
"It's empty," she whispers.
Gaara regards him with a slanted gaze, regarding that patch of air where a figment he cannot see stands. Perhaps he thinks Sasuke is imagining his own child in this room. It's natural, after all, to fill an empty child's room with pretend children.
"I learned Zaiaku was behind Hinata's nightmares after I threw her out," Gaara says in a sandy, even tone. "I did not go after her when I learned the truth. I was ashamed — and I hated myself — and I wanted her to hate me, too."
He turns and places the music box on the blue dresser. It looks like it belongs there.
"But you know all of that, I'm sure."
"Let me be clear." Sasuke steps up to him, and they're both deep within the room. The small window lets the beginning gray of dawn slowly filter in along their feet. "I did not come to feel pity. I don't. I don't give a fuck about some sad story about guilt and self-hatred."
To his frustration, Gaara smiles.
Really, the guy just does everything that pisses Sasuke off.
"I understand."
"I came to give you that." Sasuke motions his shoulder toward the music box, shut and quiet. "It's not mine — and when Hinata and I leave, we're leaving all of Suna behind."
The Kazekage's smile doesn't vanish. Somehow, it widens, and Sasuke grits his jaw.
"This hellhole is the water cave to Hinata's phoenix," he continues. "She will drown here. She's leaving, and she will flourish — and it's no thanks to you at all."
Gaara turns his head and looks out the window, at the silver lands of Suna. He doesn't look bothered at all, and Sasuke grimaces, and he curls his hand into a fist and holds back.
But, after a while, Gaara muses. "Water cave, huh?"
"And you're the water," Sasuke pushes.
Light catches the Kazekage's eyes, and they are less dull and less tired, and they look almost alive when they turn onto the sole Uchiha in all of Suna.
"And you?" Gaara asks.
Little Hinata giggles into her fingers, and Sasuke feels nothing but pride.
"I breathe fire."
...
There's a spike of chakra. At the same time, both Gaara and Sasuke recognize it's Hinata's, and (again, at the same time) they note the pattern and realize she's having a nightmare. Their shoulders fall in relief, and Sasuke glares at him, irked. The Kazekage shouldn't have to worry. Really! What right does he have to worry about Hinata?
Asshole.
Sasuke storms to the door. "I wish you weren't the Kazekage."
"Why?"
"So I can punch the shit out of you."
Gaara laughs — annoyingly. "You care about those sorts of things?"
"Even I have some miniscule respect for the Kages." A snake of sand pulls the door shut before Sasuke can leave, and he turns, sneering. "What!?"
Gaara doesn't say anything. He just pulls his arms from his sleeves and lets his robes rest on the dresser. Dressed in nothing but a light tunic and pants, Gaara has lost all power and notability as Kazekage. He is just a man — a idiotic, pathetic bastard who laughs at the wrong things and makes that small pool of gratefulness within Sasuke dry up into nothing.
He is nothing — so Sasuke turns, arm swinging with his movements, and nails the moron right in his jaw — that nice spot where bone meets knuckles and the sound of impact is the most satisfying.
...
It doesn't feel good at all —
Actually, no.
It feels really good. Amazingly good. So good that Sasuke doesn't even recognize the throbbing in his hand as he leaves the room and makes his way back to Hinata.
I hope the bruise is bad for that bastard.
There's, maybe, a light skip in his step as Sasuke comes down the stairs and down the hallway, where he finds the door to their room and pushes it open with ease.
Hinata might be awake, and she might be looking for him — and he'll ease her and hold her, and then he'll tell her everything. He'll tell her why Gaara's being secretive, and he'll tell her about the music box, and he'll tell her that when they get back to Konoha, they won't leave her house for a week, and he'll love her thoroughly and devoutly — and after that, maybe, they'll discuss about the future. Their future. Hers and his, together.
"Hina—"
He comes inside, and the room is empty.
Hinata is nowhere.