Day 24
- Finding the Middle Ground -
In the mirror Gaara gifted her all those months ago, Hinata looks at herself like she's a dying man. Byakugan activated, she sees the waning chakra in her channels, and her medic-nin experience leaps, alert, as if she's on a battlefield and a severely injured ninja is in her arms, life fading from their eyes. If she were her own patient, she wouldn't let herself walk alone. She'd rush her to the nearest hospital. She'd come back home to Gaara and tell him all about the poor kunoichi she found dying out there in Suna.
Gaara doesn't know.
He can't.
She walks straight and hides her shaking hands and applies a bit of make-up in the morning to conceal that ghastly, white shade to her face that currently stares back at her. She pretends to have an appetite. She pretends she gets those heart eight hours of sleep; and if a nightmare plagues her, she bites her pillow and drills her nails into her sides until she draws blood — because Suna is her home, and Gaara is her future, and Hinata refuses to leave. If he knows, he'll make her leave.
If he knows that she's sick, that her nightmares are getting worse by the day, he wouldn't be able to live with himself if she stayed.
So Hinata does what no medically-trained nin should do and looks her half-dead self in the eyes and decides with a weak but notable frown that she will keep this charade up for as long as she has to. Nightmares don't last forever. She'll be okay.
She'll . . . be okay.
...
It's a cold, late autumn night in the desert. Challa plays a soft melody on the piano, and Hinata listens in a tight ball tucked in one of the sofas. She lets her face lean into her arms and feels the strain of every, tiny pinch of stress on her body. Gone is the chin-up, wide-eyed, always-smiling Hinata; right now, this is the Hinata who dreams of her sister being murdered, of her cousin coming back to life and suffering in his decomposed body, of the Hyuuga being taken down like the Uchiha had been. Every night, these dreams.
She doesn't hear anything but the piano, but she does feel the tickle of sand along the tops of her bare feet.
Slowly, Hinata collects herself. She fixes the sag in her shoulders and blinks away the exhaustion from her eyes, and then she lifts her head to watch Gaara sit next to her, smile gentle and beautiful and the thing that makes so much of this worth it.
"You're awake?" he wonders. His gaze scans her over, and Hinata's heart trots, scared he'll see everything stored up inside of her. "Can't sleep?"
"Something like that."
"Nightmares?"
She smiles. "No. Nothing like that."
His chest falls with relief, and he comes closer. Hinata uncoils herself and lets her head rest against his shoulder.
"Why are you still up?" she asks.
"Late meeting. Zaiaku's adamant about new water plan."
"He's not the Kazekage. Not everything can go his way," she murmurs, eyes falling heavy.
Gaara laughs into her hair. "Even the Kazekage doesn't get his way all the time."
"Yes." She finds one of his hands and kisses the back of it. "Sometimes, his Ambassador has to pull him out of bad decisions."
"She always knows best."
"Mmh." He is warm, and his breaths are rocking her to sleep. The piano lulls them close like a blanket wrapped around their shoulders.
"Hinata," he says into her ear, "should I take you to your room?"
She wants to be anywhere but that dark, lonely, cold place where she finds nothing but evil in her dreams. "No."
Sand scratches along the floor, sweeping. The room dims and fuzzes as Hinata barely manages to keep her eyes a crack open. Gaara's heart picks up. It doesn't race, but it isn't a calm, unbothered tempo. It's a speedwalk, maybe, or the clicks of a skateboard running over cracks in the sidewalk. It's just enough to get her attention, and as Hinata is realizing this, Gaara's hand turns around to hold hers.
"Should I take you with me?" he finally asks.
Challa slows. The piano is held in quiet interest.
"Okay," Hinata says, and she lifts and goes with him with sand dancing around her heels.
...
Gaara has a two-person bed.
"It used to be smaller," he says. There's a chair by the door, and he takes off his cloak and folds it in half, fourths, eighths — he folds it perfectly, meticulously, and then sets it on the back of the chair before regarding Hinata, who stands over the two-person bed — his bed. "It used to hardly fit me."
She presses her palm against the mattress and smiles at how soft it feels. "You got a bigger one?"
"Yeah," he says.
"When?"
Now he looks down at the rest of himself like he's not sure what to do, how to proceed. The room isn't extravagantly furnished, but it's decorated enough with picture frames and rugs and crystal lamps. There's a tan wardrobe next to her, probably where he stores all of his clothes — for day and for night. Hinata's not sure how to get out of his way without making it obvious.
"I don't remember," he lies, and Hinata laughs.
"You got it because of me."
Gaara stares, then looks away, then stares again. ". . . Yes."
Her tongue feels like it doesn't belong in her mouth. Hinata swallows, peels back the heavy blanket and the smooth, white sheets, and slowly slips into bed. Her feet find a cool spot near the bottom, and her head lies comfortably on the pillow. Through the lamp light, Gaara looks at her from the doorway, still not managing to make himself come in more. He's told her about his childhood, about the beast Shukaku that was once sealed inside of him and demonizing every aspect of his life. He had sleepless, dark nights; family who were too fearful to share a bed with him. To this day, it still worries him that the night he shares a bed with someone is the night he'll wake up and realize that one-tailed demon is still inside him.
"If he comes back," she murmurs into the still air, watching small shadows flicker along the ceiling, "I'll give him a stern talking."
A small breath escapes Gaara. "Will you?"
"I'll tell him the Kazekage deserves his sleep. I'll tell him if he thinks about possessing you, I'll know, and I'll have him properly scolded."
A step, then another. Gaara comes into his room, pulls loose pants from the wardrobe, and begins to change. Hinata's drowsy eyes stay on the ceiling.
"You'll scold the One-Tailed Beast?" Gaara muses.
"I am the Kazekage's Ambassador," she says. "I'll do whatever it takes to make sure you're okay."
Gaara's hand tips her chin over so that she sees him bent over her, hair messy from a quick change, old clothes discarded on the floor.
"Just an Ambassador?" he asks.
Hinata smiles when he leans down and kisses her. She sighs and lets him prod her mouth, and then he turns off the lamp and gets in bed, facing her, tracing the outline of her shadowy face with his fingers.
"Sleep," he says. "You're exhausted."
And there is nothing but a pleasant sandstorm in her mind. She doesn't think of sickness, of nightmares.
She thinks of Shukaku in a corner, sulking, while she and Gaara have tea on a warm, spring morning, watching the birds fly through a cobalt sky.
...
That sky turns green and leafy, eventually. The sandy hills turn grassy. Shukaku is the Hyuuga Complex, and Gaara is her sister, stood rigid, as thorned roots wrap around her legs and slowly take her over. The tea is cold. The birds are dead. Hanabi screams, and the bark and branches and roots reach her knees. Hinata sprints through brush. All she has is a kunai, dull, barely sharp.
It reaches Hanabi's waist. Cracking wood. Howling wind.
Hinata lifts her arms over her head, bellows, and sinks the kunai into one of the roots, trying to tear it, to break it off. It doesn't work. It barely makes a dent.
Hanabi's hair gets caught, yanked back. Her pale neck is exposed. She's gasping.
Hinata hacks. She slashes. Over and over, she digs her kunai deeper and deeper, but her sister is still stuck, and the roots keep growing.
The last she sees are Hanabi's eyes, and then she's gone.
Bark chips away, then grows back. Hinata can't get to the skin.
Her sister's gone.
She's gone.
Gone — gone — gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone
Bird wings.
Flapping.
She opens her eyes, and Gaara has his hands on her shoulders, and there are seven bleeding cuts against his face and another two down his neck. Her nails hurt. So does her throat. Her eyes feel like candles that have been lit for too long, melting and mush.
Her spine hurts so much that she snaps up, and that makes her stomach twist into a hard knot. She leans over, gagging, about to throw up — but there's nothing in her stomach to come up.
This is Hinata. Sweat. Red eyes. Trembling. Blood under her nails.
That Hinata who was so confident about scolding demons — she is a lie. She never existed. Not since the nightmares.
...
"You still have them," is all Gaara says.
Streams of blood cut across his skin, he stands by the bed, watching her heave and choke. From there, he assesses everything, the cuts on his face that she put there in her sleeping frenzy, and he understands that she's been lying to him. Hinata can see that haunting glint in his eye. His jaw flexes, but he doesn't scowl. He holds that cool expression that exposes nothing within his working mind, and when her heaving and shaking and choking finally calms, he takes his shirt off the floor, wipes his face, and puts it on.
"I'll have Temari get you medicine."
He unfolds his robe and throws it over his shoulders, and the cold Kazekage now shares the room with her.
"Don't move," he says.
"Gaara," is the only thing that leaves her mouth before he leaves.
...
Temari comes, accompanied by a medic nin. They fret over her and watch her take her medicine, and tell her to stay in bed and rest, for she is too ill to move. It's too early in the morning, but they diligently bring her water and wipe her face. Soon, the sun rises, and bird songs can be heard in the muffled distance.
Gaara does not come back.
...
"I should have told him the truth," Hinata tells Temari the next day as she washes her back. There's a new, clean gown for her on the bathroom shelf, which she is happy to have, despite it all. "I didn't want him to worry."
"Give him time," Temari says smoothly. "He's upset. Give him another day."
"I want to stay here." Washed, Hinata lifts out of the tub and dries off with a towel as Temari fetches the gown. "You understand, don't you? You'll tell him, right?"
Temari clicks her tongue like a mother would, hurrying her with her drying so she can wrap her up and take her back to bed. "Gaara won't kick you out, Hinata. Focus on getting well, and then you can worry."
Soon, she's tucked back into bed. Gaara's bed. Despite all the guest rooms in the tower, the Kazekage's orders were for Hinata to stay in his room as she recovers. While hearing this had originally given her hope, last night was a half-empty bed, and she worries if he's staying in his office all day — avoiding her.
...
Two more days pass. The cooks are diligently getting food to stay in her stomach, and her energy is slowly coming back to her.
The nightmares still come. Sometimes they are violent enough to thrust her awake, wailing. Pooled in nerves, Hinata jumps at shadows and waits for that scratch of sand along the floorboards — but it doesn't come, instead replaced by padding feet before the door squeaks open and a sheepish Kankuro peeks in.
"Hinata?" he calls. "You okay?"
And he'll come in and sit at the foot of the bed, sometimes staying there for a while to awkwardly ask questions, sometimes leaving to fetch her milk or water or anything to calm her nerves. Kankuro still doesn't know what happened all those months ago that turned their blooming friendship into a tightrope walk, but he still tries, and his kindness only makes Hinata all the more miserable.
...
Almost a week has passed.
Hinata has her strength. She dresses into the clean clothes a maid left her that morning, the tan sleeves long and swiping along her knuckles. When she opens the door, it's quiet. There is no piano to ease the tension. People work. Councilmembers talk with one another. No one looks at her in that way that makes her feel less like a ghost and more like someone they're specifically ignoring.
Six days without a word from Gaara has caused a soreness in her breast, tight with annoyance and worry. She lied to him. Hinata understands, and she hates that she did it — but six days of no conversation is avoiding the problem, and all she's been able to do is sit in that bed and anguish over things and hope that door would open and Gaara would come inside.
But he never did.
She passes the piano room, peeks inside, and sees a white cover over it.
A few more doors, and she's at the Kazekage's office. It's halfway open, enough for her to slip in if she angles her shoulders the right way; but she pushes the door back so that she can come through properly. A sand nin is inside, wearing the messenger uniform. There's a few envelopes on Gaara's desk that Hinata hardly pays any attention to as she steps inside. The nin bows to Gaara and gives her a flickering look before he leaves them alone, not closing the door behind him.
"Gaara," she says, "will you still ignore me when I'm right in front of you?"
His face is a little dim with the rising sun behind him, but she's able to see no marks or scars on his face. Good. At least he healed well.
"No." He looks up, and just the familiar color of his eyes makes her a little relieved. "I'm glad you're here. I actually just got news."
She'd rather them talk about their own issues, but the way he cleanly opens one of the envelopes tells her this news is important. Hinata comes closer, leaning over the desk to get a good look at the Konoha symbol at the bottom, accompanied with Lord Gai's signature.
She's hardly through the first line of the letter when Gaara finishes, putting it down between stacks of paperwork.
"That's settled," he says. "Ambassador Ki will be here in the morning, and you are to go back to your regular duties in Konoha this afternoon."
What? The temporary flash of joy she felt for hearing of Ki's supposed recovery is bulldozed instantly. Konoha? This afternoon — but —
"I don't —" understand. But she does. He's telling her she's relieved of her ambassador duties. She's too leave — today. These six days have been him getting in contact with Konoha so that he can send her back. She understands all of that well. But what she doesn't understand is — "Why?"
Gaara blinks leisurely, like he knows the answer but is thinking of the right way to word it. "Konoha is your home."
Hinata shakes her head. "Here is my home."
"No. It's not."
Heart squeezing, she frowns so he understands it's hurtful what he's saying. "You're making me leave because I lied?"
His expression doesn't change. It's that calm, cool Kazekage look that makes her feel like he's just talking to a guard or a councilmember or someone who isn't his girlfriend.
"I don't care that you lied —"
"Then why are you —"
"I care that my Ambassador isn't fit to stay in Suna." He nods towards the door. "I had a few people pack your things. They should be in the room you stayed in."
"Gaara!" What is she supposed to do? How can he do all of this without talking to her? "I'm okay. I lied, and I'm sorry, but I want to stay here. We'll figure out how to stop the nightmares — or maybe I can see someone about them. Maybe it's some sort of genjutsu."
Gaara looks to his other envelopes, unbothered. "I'll escort you to the gate."
He's not listening to me! "I'm not going."
Finally, he looks at her again, gaze stern. "Going against the Kazekage's orders will bring you and Konoha great trouble."
It has been over a year since he's equated her with Konoha. When she'd wear beiges and reds to fit with the desert's colors, he'd look over her with pride. When they would survey the cliffs and brainstorm upcoming plans to further expand Suna, it wasn't between a Suna Lord and a Konoha Ambassador: it was between two people of equal standing, who had a future together — a future in this desert village.
Hinata hasn't thought of Konoha as her home in a long time.
If Suna is ripped away from her . . . then . . . .
"Gaara," she begs, "please. I love you. Don't make me leave."
He doesn't look at her like a Konoha nin. He looks at her like she's a featureless wall, like she isn't even there.
Like she's already gone.
...
Her things are packed, like he said.
Hinata had been growing to hate this room, but now she'd rather sleep the rest of her nights here than leave.
The only thing left is the mirror Gaara gifted her. She takes it from the wall, looks at herself, and only sees a vague silhouette through the dust.
...
Temari won't look her in the eye.
Kankuro mutters that Gaara's making a mistake, but no word from him will change the Kazekage's mind.
When they come to the gate, its mouth open and ready to swallow her, Hinata's blood turns steel.
"I'll get better," she tells him. "I'll get better, and I'll come back."
Gaara's eyes are on the high cliffs. "I don't want you to come back."
And that hurts — of course it does. Those words are things never to be said to a loved one. How he says it without a moment's hesitation makes her seethe, then hurt.
"Don't say that," she mutters. "You love me. I know you do."
The sand below her moves. Suddenly, she's on the other side of the gate, and Gaara raises an arm, signaling for the guards to begin closing it. When she tries to run back in, the sand wraps around her ankles, keeping her stuck in her spot. The unstable ground shakes. The sun burns the crown of her head. Gaara watches without a care in the world as he closes her out of Suna, out of her home.
"You love me!" she yells.
Iron scraping. Steel chains clicking. Guards shouting. Sand shoving. Noise. Cacophony. Wind. Unbearable heat.
When the gates shut, it booms, and it bounces off the cliffside and echoes. The mirror's glass vibrates against her belly.
"You love me," she says again, trying with all her might to keep the desperation out of her mouth.
Gaara is on the Suna side, looking at her like a lost girl begging to come inside.
"No," he says, "I don't."
And her chest wails, and so does her brain. She imagines Naruto and Kankuro next to him. That pink thread she thought she had such a good hold of falls from her hands and snakes over to them. Naruto pretends he doesn't see it. Kankuro doesn't know what to think of it. Gaara lifts his foot and crushes it.
"I know you don't mean that," she whispers, "but it hurts when you say it."
And Gaara doesn't take it back. Doesn't order the gates open so he can hold her and apologize. Doesn't stand his ground but show her, for just a brief moment, that he hates this as much as she does — that he doesn't like this — that he's dying of guilt — that he'll never forgive himself for sending her away.
All he says is, "Go home, Ambassador."
That's it.
He leaves, and that's it.
...
Hinata stays.
Suna are a bunch of headstrong, stubborn people. Like their Kazekage.
She stays for five days.
She nearly freezes to death on the first, so one of the guards lends her a coat and an extra pair of socks to keep over her hands.
On the second, her thirst outways her hunger, and another guard gives her half of his share of water.
On the third, a guard tells her that her request to see Gaara has been denied for the nineteenth time — and he tells her solemnly that she really should go back to Konoha. It's hard to survive in the desert without food and water and good protection. Her skin is red and burned. She's got no energy. She's barely able to keep herself cool enough to not fall over from heatstroke.
On the fourth day, she passes out, then comes to thanks to a guard splashing water over her face.
The Kazekage still refuses to see her, and the guards wonder if she'll stay until she's dead.
Hinata thinks if she's to die, she'd want to die in her home. And Suna is her home.
Isn't it?
But she won't die. Gaara will hear she's still at the gate, and he'll come.
He wouldn't let her die out here.
He wouldn't.
...
Day five, she thinks she sees him. He comes through the gate like he's transparent and kneels over her, squinting through the sand. Hinata cannot talk, can't even weep in joy.
"You should have left," he says. "Now your sister's an only child."
His hair drips down from his head and gets in her eyes, her mouth — clogging up her airways, making it hard to breathe. The sun is burned into the backs of her eyelids, and when she wakes up, she's surrounded by trees and lying on her stomach, torso naked with Shikamaru rubbing oils into her ruined skin.
"Suna sent word to Lord Gai that you were refusing to leave." His voice hangs over her back like fog. Sometimes, when he speaks, he holds the same cadence as Neji. Her cousin would be skinning her rather than healing her if he heard that she spent five days in the desert, supply-less. He'd skin her, then everyone in Suna for leaving her there. "I came to retrieve you. Wasn't surprised by what I saw. All of this is going to take a while to heal."
And he does that stupid Neji thing where he talks like a ninja because talking like a human means talking about Gaara, about being kicked out of her home, about being left to die.
And that hits her.
Gaara knew.
He heard her messages, and he sent for Konoha instead.
She wasn't leaving, and he knew. She'd rather die than leave, and he knew. He stood on that side of the gate with Kankuro and Naruto and let her hope and plead and beg.
He threw her out.
Suna is no longer her home.
No one wants me.
Shikamaru must have given her a good amount of water when she was out, for saliva fills her mouth, and tears rip into her eyes, angry and scared.
"I d-don't want to go to Konoha," she says into her arms. "Not like this."
Shikamaru rubs oil into her shoulder blades. He's gentle, and it makes her sick.
"Okay," he eventually says. "I'll heal you up."
And he does that stupid Neji thing where he pretends her crying is just shaking. It's hard to comfort a worthless girl, after all.
...
That night, she doesn't have a nightmare.
Cellars are boring things.
Stereotypes. That thing you picture when you read the word 'cellar' — with iron bars and dirty, stone floors and chained cuffs hanging from the ceiling — it's real, and it's true. That's a cellar. If there's anything different, it's not a cellar. Plain and simple. Straw bed? That's a dungeon. Guard outside who scratches his sack when he's bored? That's a prison.
Suna cellars and Konoha cellars are the same. Not to Hinata's surprise, of course. In fact, this might not even be a Suna cellar. For all she knows, she could be all the way in the Land of Lightning. That's the thing with cellars: they don't tell you where in the world you are. They're characterless.
Boring.
Sitting there, in this featureless, not-unique-at-all cellar, Hinata puts her back to the stereotypical, stone wall and turns to her cellmate — because of course one cannot be in a cellar alone. They always have someone in there with them. In a day or two, the poor man is going to be dragged out screaming, and Hinata will never see him again. Usually, these are scare tactics. Sure, her captors will probably kill him, but they wouldn't have killed him if she hadn't been there. He could have lived a healthy life in this crummy cellar if they had picked the next one over to hold her.
"Sorry," she says unconsciously, earning her a look from the man.
He runs his hand up the back of his neck, through his choppy mess of brown hair. He's clean-shaven and looks like he's seen a good amount of sun recently, so either her captors do morning walks and offer razors and cream, or this guy is new to the cellar like her.
Part of her hates the fact that she went off on her own without telling anyone a word. When she woke up to the familiar tight muscles and squeamish stomach that only a nightmare can cause, she knew it had to be Zaiaku's bidding. And if her nightmare-less year in Konoha has told her anything, it's that whatever jutsu he uses has a pretty strict distance limitation. He'd been at Kazekage Tower. When she woke up, Sasuke wasn't there, and she knew she had to be quick if she wanted to track the bastard down.
And Hinata's glad she did, even if it meant her falling into a staged trap and getting herself kidnapped. Now she can investigate at what seemed to be the heart of Zaiaku's efforts. One doesn't cage up their prisoners too far from home, after all.
But . . .
There is, of course, the fact that Sasuke has no idea where she is — and he's going to lose his mind once he realizes she's missing. That, she is not too pleased about, and her guilt makes her toes curl.
I should have left to get him, she tells herself. Then we both could be here.
. . . Not to say that Hinata's particularly thrilled to be caged; but, again, this is her best chance of getting more info on Zaiaku and his schemes. Before anything, Hinata is a kunoichi. Investigating Zaiaku is her mission, and she's not about to let a cellar and a few captors get in her way.
There is, of course, the issue of her chakra being drained somehow. She checked herself thoroughly upon waking up no more than an hour ago. There's no device on her that's draining her chakra. She hasn't eaten or drunk anything, either. No chakra makes escape a harder task to achieve, but her main focus is on Zaiaku at present.
Who, might she add, has yet to show his face since her awakening.
So Hinata is here, in a cellar that could be anywhere, with a man she doesn't even know who twitches and tsks every so often.
Not the best start of a plan, but she can work with this.
...
Eventually, food does come. There's an opening at the bottom of the metal bars that's big enough to slide a tray of food through, and this is exactly what happens. Hinata pushes off the wall, noting the sand callously mixed in with the rice. Perhaps she really is still in Suna.
The man doesn't leave his corner.
When Hinata looks, she finds that smug, familiar smirk that only a man like Tanta can procure.
Of course. They had deduced that he was a part of this whole thing. She shouldn't be surprised to see the likes of him around, though she wonders how he managed to get here when the last time she saw him was when Konoha police were taking him away.
"Hello, Hyuuga. I gotta tell ya, when the big man told me he got you down in one of these cells — shit — I was hollerin' for hours! Could hardly stand after the fit I had. Kami." He snickers and wipes at the corner of his mouth with the meat of his palm. "I mean, come on. You can't say it's a little ironic — I mean with how our last meetin' left off 'nd all. Still waiting for that kiss, after all."
Hinata looks a little harder through the dark and is pleased to see Tanta's nose is crooked from when Sasuke slammed his face into the bar.
"Get me out of here, and I'll consider it."
A shrill wheeze of a laugh gets Tanta slapping his thigh. Hinata turns back to the food, noting that the soup — whatever it is — is cold and slimy.
"See, that's what I like the best about bein' on this side of the bars: hearin' what you lot come up with to wager a way out of your little cage." Tanta's head tips so he can take a gander at the man still in the back of the cellar. "And don't think I forgot about you, Razutshi. Zaiaku's still tryin' to figure what to do with you after the little stunt you pulled."
Razutshi? Where has she heard that name before?
The man rubbed at his neck again, aggravated. "Yeah, man. Yeah. Don't think I — course I get it. Not like I'm surprised or nothin'."
Tanta snorts, leaning one shoulder against the bars. "If it were me, I'd have skipped this pussy shit and gone straight to guttin' you. But Zaiaku's a generous man. Said: Hey. Let's leave that sad ass in with the Hyuuga. Good view 'nd all!" Tanta grins at her like she's a rare steak or a good cut of mutton. "Lucky bastard. Dinner and a show. Now don't make it easy for him like you did for me, Hyuuga. At least let him take you out for drinks first."
He spits on the ground and bangs his hands against the bars before walking off, laughing to himself, promising that he'll be back. Hinata pulls her tray between her knees, and Razutshi finally comes out to look at his food.
The fact that Tanta talked to him like he knew him makes her think, and she eventually remembers that Razutshi was one of the people Sasuke had interviewed; Zaiaku's 'right-hand', apparently.
What is someone like him doing here?
"I ain't tellin' ya!"
Hinata blinks over at him just as he stuffs a handful of rice into his mouth.
"I see how you're lookin' at me," he grumbles, "and I ain't tellin' ya. Ain't none of your business."
"Oh." There aren't any chopsticks, so it looks like they really do have to eat with their hands. "Okay."
"It was a mistake," he continues, frowning as he chews. "I stupid mistake. I never should have done it."
"I see."
"So stop tryin' to drag it out of me!" He slams his hands, and his tray jumps a bit. "I ain't spillin' nothing!"
She eats her rice and drinks her soup that is far too salty. There's a small cup of water that she drinks, as well, and then she goes back to the wall, trying to pick out sand from between her teeth with a nail.
"Do you know what's draining my chakra?" she asks.
Razutshi sticks his nose up and doesn't say a word, but the longer the silence stretches on, the more irritated he seems to get. He rubs his arms, then knocks his knees together, then finally sighs.
"It's in the air," he says. "They burn something. Dunno what. Odorless. Zaiaku tells me it helps people sleep. Supposed to only burn a little to calm your chakra. Burn too much, then we got a problem — or, you do. Not me. I'm on their side."
Well, if it's in the air, then there's no way Hinata can block it out of her system.
But what he tells her is true. She's hardly been awake for three hours, and she's already tired. The dark and the meal don't help much, either. Hinata slides onto her back, face lifted to the shadowed ceiling. She doesn't hear any voices from outside their cellar, so she closes her eyes and rests, accompanied with Razutshi's occasional jitters and huffs and tsks.
"Fine!" he bellows. "I'll tell you, alright? I — I sorta — I took some money, okay? Borrowed. Woulda paid him back once I could — and he has so much that a few hundred wouldn't have hurt nobody."
Hinata takes in a deep breath through her nose. "Who's money?"
"Zaiaku's," Razutshi mutters.
She turns her head to look at him. "He has a lot?"
"Yeah, like, from donations. Citizens give it to him and stuff. He needs it when he's Kazekage, y'know." He shuffles his clammy hands together, distraught. "I ain't no thief. I needed it, get it? I ain't no thief."
Hinata looks around at the cellar. It's not too big. Five more people, and it would have been packed.
"You're still loyal to him?"
Razutshi gives a firm nod. "Yes."
"Even when he put you here?"
He puffs up. "Zaiaku's exactly what this rotten place needs! He's a good leader. He helped me 'nd Tanta. I'd follow him anywhere!"
"Even into a cellar?"
His mouth opens, then snaps shut, and he sort of sags against the wall. "I deserved it."
Stealing money is one thing. It'll get you a talking. A stern slap on the wrist. Maybe followed and observed for a few days. You'll have to work a few months to earn back trust.
Stealing money doesn't mean a one-way ticket to sharing a cellar with a Hyuuga, perhaps one of your biggest enemies at present: the very Hyuuga that your boss spent countless days running so she'd leave Suna for his taking. He's not trained, she can tell. If she attacks him, he's got no chance of fighting back. She could kill him if she wanted to.
Slowly, Hinata's eyes close once more.
Razutshi squirms and sucks on his teeth, but he doesn't say anything else, and she falls into a awkward, light sleep.
...
She wakes to footsteps. When she sits up, she meets Zaiaku's eye and frowns.
"Good." He's got the same voice he had the last time she spoke to him, the kind that could make anyone listen to it. In the council meetings she'd used to be a part of, Zaiaku was always the one that got people's attention. When he spoke, you were meant to listen. "You're awake. That makes everything easier for me."
The trays are gone, but that is all that has changed. Razutshi is half-happy and half-ashamed, like a tennager being bailed out of jail by his father. He tries to still the jump in his leg as Zaiaku speaks.
"I want to know how much the Kazekage and the Uchiha have investigated."
"Th-The Uchiha?" Razutshi balks. "He was on it? Fuck. I should have known!"
Zaiaku doesn't spare him a look, cool eyes settled on Hinata's face. "Tell me everything you know, and I won't do anything to you."
"You'll torture me?" Hinata asks.
A small smile grows on his pale face. "In a way, but nothing violent. I loathe blood."
"Boss Man doesn't like gettin' dirty," Razutshi confirms.
Hinata settles into a crisscrossed position. "I have nothing to tell."
"Is that so?" Zaiaku hums. "Disappointing, but not surprising. Razutshi." For the first time, he looks at the man in the cellar. "If she says anything while she's under, tell me."
"U-Under?"
There's a flash of hand signs Hinata can hardly make out, and then an exhaustive spell hits her. Her eyelids droop, fall, and she collapses into a deep sleep.
...
It all comes back.
Those damn nightmares.
Konoha is in ruins again. Her sister is dead. Neji's grave is destroyed and nameless. She's running down the street where her home once was. Hokage Tower is a crater. When she gets there, all she sees are dismembered limbs and corpses with their heads exploded into mush.
When she wakes up, her head is on fire, and her body is wet with sweat. There's a knot on her left temple and a cut full with dried blood. She must have hit her head when she was forced into sleep.
Razutshi is huddled in his corner. He's not cowering, but he looks disturbed, and he untangles his long legs when she finally sits up.
"Nightmare?" he asks. "Those don't happen much. I mean, I don't think so. I always hear he puts people to sleep . . . but . . . . Well, you are a prisoner, I guess."
She touches her hand to her wound. When she pulls away, there's no fresh blood, so it seems to have stopped bleeding.
"He puts others to sleep?" Hinata asks.
His mouth zips up, and he looks away. She won't get an answer from him.
"How long was I asleep?"
"A couple hours," he says, biting at his knuckles. "And you weren't sleepin'. You were screaming."
...
Hinata does not know when yesterday ends and tomorrow begins, but food comes from a tired man after a while, so she can only assume it's sometime in the early morning. She and Razutshi eat, push out their trays to be picked up, and then she stands and begins to stretch.
Razutshi has changed corners so that he can lean his head against the bars and get a look down the dark corridor. He gives her a look when she bends over and touches her fingertips to her toes.
"What are you doin'?"
"I'm stretching."
"Yeah. I got that."
She pulls her arms over her chest, then over her head. "I need to stay in shape."
He lets out a flabbergasted sputter of air. "If you'd just tell Zaiaku the info, he'll let you leave. Then you won't have to worry 'bout your figure or nothin'."
Hinata, despite it all, smiles. Really, she doubts Zaiaku will just let her leave this place with no strings attached.
"Do you want to join me, Razutshi?"
Stretches finished, she drops to the ground to start a round of push-ups, doing ten with her left arm hooked behind her back, then another with her right arm, then twenty more with both arms. Razutshi groans like he's the one doing all the work and is burning from the sore aftermath.
"No way. With that shit in the air, you'll tire yourself out quicker."
Hinata hopes so. Maybe if she inhales more, she'll get used to it quicker, and less of her chakra will get drained.
"I used to have a work-out partner," she says, a drip of sweat falling from her nose. "If he were here, I think he'd join me."
Razutshi snorts. "Then he'd be just as mad as you."
Hinata's not sure how well Sasuke would respond if he heard that, but she laughs either way.
...
Zaiaku comes again, hair beautifully brushed in a low ponytail that sweeps between his shoulder blades.
Again, he asks for the information he wants. Again, Hinata does not give it to him.
This time, however, she positions herself so that her head lands on her arm as she's knocked out.
When she wakes, Razutshi has snuck a few inches closer from his usual spot. Her feet are loosely tied together by a piece of fabric that resembles the thin, gray jacket he sometimes uses as a blanket. When she thanks him, he explains she was kicking around so violently he felt in danger.
When she asks how long she was out, he says he counted around four hours.
...
Razutshi talks when she's doing her stretches and routine. From what Hinata understands, he gets jumpy when things get quiet. His head runs too fast for him, so he likes it when there's something he can listen to that helps slow him down.
He talks about Konoha, then about Ame, then about Suna. He misses the rain. He doesn't miss the snow. His back hurts, and he thinks Tanta is purposefully putting sand in their rice. When they have to use the restroom, someone takes them to one not too far away. It's dirty and cold, and Hinata's blindfolded the whole way there. He doesn't like that they're only allowed three bathroom breaks a day, but it at least helps him determine how many days have passed.
He talks about Zaiaku, some. His voice gets chipper and whistle-like when he talks about how he first met him, how he got him out of a bad situation and set him on a good path. The man could throw Razutshi into a freezing lake, and he'd probably thank him.
But when Zaiaku comes and holds that air of composed authority upon their caged forms, Razutshi is silent. Hinata, again, refuses his request, and he thrusts her into another stretch of decay and death, reliving Neji's death, watching her father burn alive, hearing her friends beg for mercy. And every time she wakes, she knows every second that had passed was a second where Razutshi is stuck in there, with her, screaming and fighting invisible demons, giving him no peace at all.
It's when she dreams of Sasuke that things turn bad.
Sometimes, he is dead with her sister. Sometimes, he is the one that killed Hanabi. Sometimes, he replaces Gaara outside of Suna's gate, looking down at her dying body and not lifting a hand to help her.
These dreams feel real, and these dreams hurt the most.
She doesn't wake up on her own accord.
She wakes to a hard sting to her face and Razutshi over her, holding her against the floor. His lip is bleeding, and his clothes are torn. He's got bags under his eyes, and he needs a shave.
"Y-You're awake," he breathes, shaking with her. When they both shake, it's like the whole cell is shaking. "It's okay. You're awake, Hyuuga."
She doesn't have the energy to sit up, so he helps her. Hinata winces when she puts wait on her left wrist, clearly sprained.
"I didn't know what to do," he says, falling back on his heels. "You weren't waking up. I couldn't just — so I — I tried to wake ya. I shook ya n everything — finally slapped you. Did the trick. Sorry."
Hinata turns her head so her burning forehead is partially pushed against the cool wall. "How long?"
Razutshi shifts, then says, quietly, "Half a day."
It's never been that long. Maybe four or five days, but never more than that.
"He's getting impatient," she murmurs.
Razutshi shakes his head. "I know it's bad, but — but Boss is good. H-He's good."
She doesn't have the energy to argue, though she doubts anything she says will do any good. Sighing, Hinata says, "You can call me Hinata."
"Huh?"
"Earlier, you called me Hyuuga." She tries to smile, but even that is hard. "My name is Hinata."
Scratching his jaw, he joins her against the wall and says, "Hinata . . . you missed food."
Her eyes shut. "That's okay."
...
Tanta drops off the next meal, whistling low at Hinata appearance as he kicks the meals into the cellar, making some of the soup spill onto the floor. "Kami, Hyuuga, you look like shit."
This time, Razutshi comes out to eat, sitting on his legs like he's expected to be at some sort of formal meeting. He drinks some of the water, then says, "The longer sessions ain't good for her. Can't ya talk to Boss about it?"
Tanta gives him a pointed look. "That's the whole point, dumbass. Gods, are you not gettin' enough nutrients? I think your brain is shrinking."
Ashamed, Razutshi scarfs down his food. They finish, and Tanta takes the trays and laughs on his way out.
"I tried," Razutshi mutters.
Hinata pats his shoulder, thankful.
...
The next session of nightmares isn't very long, but the one after that stretches out for ten hours. She dreams of Sasuke paralyzed from the neck down, slowly being eaten alive by man-eating insect. No matter how many she tears off of him, more replace them, and she keeps trying until he's nothing but bones.
Razutshi wakes her again, pinning her in a corner and holding down as many of her limbs as he can with all his weight. Her left wrist isn't able to heal, and it's sore and pulsating that long, dark night.
"Alright. I get it." Razutshi looks as tired and worn as her, the side of his face beaten. "If you got any plans of escaping, I'll help, alright? I'll come with you 'nd everything. Anything to stop this."
While she hasn't seen Zaiaku nearly enough to get much info on him, having Razutshi is an even better outcome than what Hinata could have hoped for. She has him check the corridor to make sure no one's around, and then she pulls him close, whispering.
"Because of my chakra levels, we can't fight our ways out of here," she explains. "We'll have to be smart about it."
"I ain't very smart," he says.
"You're smarter than Tanta, aren't you?"
His eyes grow wide, and the whites look gray in the dark. "You want to go after Tanta? He's, like, three times your size!"
While it's true that Tanta is big, he doesn't have a single day's worth of ninja training under his belt. If she and Razutshi can catch him off guard, then she's sure she'll be able to get the upper hand on him.
"Are you trained at all?" she asks.
"Ehh. Dad was into wrestling. I'm no pro, but —"
"If we can get him to come inside, then I think we'll be able to overcome him."
The cellar is small, sure, but that could be used to their advantage. A good kick, and Tanta would be falling into one of the walls, possibly knocking himself out in the process.
Razutshi, looking around, sees the vision, too. "Sure. How are we gonna get him comin' in here then?"
"We tempt him," she says. He looks at her like she's mad, then pulls away, suddenly feeling like they're invading each other's personal space. "You need to pretend you're attacking me. I'll make noise. When he sees us, he'll come in, and we'll attack."
Now he's backing away more, fingering the collar of his shirt like he's suddenly grown two sizes too small.
"Look," he says, "you're nice 'nd all, but I kinda got a girl at home, get it? And with the baby comin' and all, I don't want her hearin' about me comin' on to some girl, y'know? I — I know I'm not the best guy in the world, but I'm loyal to her, right, and I just don't know about this."
Hinata smiles. "I didn't know you had someone."
His face heats up. "Yeah. We ain't perfect, but . . . ."
That's all he has to say for Hinata to understand. "The money you stole —"
"Borrowed," he corrects.
"Was it for her and the baby?"
". . . Yeah."
"All the more reason for us to do this and escape. That child will want his father."
Razutshi stands, rubbing his palms up and down his pants to wipe the sweat off. He paces around a bit, then stops, sighing.
"Okay."
She takes his hand and presses her head to it, grateful. He squirms, and then comes back to sit next to her so that they can hatch out their plan.
...
They eat their food and save their strength, preparing. Hinata shows him a few ways to defend himself in case things go south, reminding him that if the plan fails, he needs to leave without her. Razutshi never likes hearing this, but she makes him agree.
When a new day comes, they eat breakfast, and then they sit and wait. Tanta tends to come around lunch, so they prepare when the time comes. Hinata lies on her back, throwing her clothes in disarray, which Razutshi promptly avoids looking at with his gaze turned down the corridor.
"I don't have to take off anything," he whispers, "right?"
"You might."
"Kami."
He rubs his nerves into his arms until the skin's red and raw. Hinata keeps her own at bay, knowing she'll have to stay vigilant if they want this to work.
"Get on top of me," she says. He does, scowling, not at all happy with anything he's about to do. "Remember, you can bite me. Be rough. I won't get injured."
"O . . . kay."
"When he comes, go with the flow. I'll find the right moment and attack. Follow my lead."
His breath is a nervous pulse against her neck. He's shaking. She holds both of his arms and smiles up at him.
"Kami forgive me," he mutters.
"Ready?" She grabs a few small rocks from the floor and rubs them against her head wound, getting the blood to start trickle down.
"Yeah. Okay." He huffs, shoulders squaring. "Yeah."
He lowers his mouth and bites her neck hard, and Hinata gathers all her air and screams.
...
It doesn't take long for Tanta to show up with another man. Hinata plays it up when he's within line of sight, kicking out her legs and trying to push Razutshi off of her. It's easy to pretend she doesn't have the energy to fight back, and Razutshi uses all of her strength to hold down her arms as he continues to bite her. The blood from her head wound runs into her left eye, but she's still able to get a recent look of Tanta's wide smile as he shoos the other man away.
"There you go, Razutshi, you fucker! 'Bout time you took what was in front of ya — patient bastard!"
The adrenaline in her system makes it hard for her eyes to water up, her fighting instincts fighting against her acting. She puts pressure on her hurt wrist to get some genuine pain breezing through her system, but it's dull, hardly effective. Razutshi's too nervous to do anything but bite and pin her down.
"Come on, asshat!" Tanta calls. "You're losing it, you idiot."
One of Razutshi's hands finds her stomach, and she gently lifts her spine off the floor so he can easily lift her shirt.
"Don't!" Hinata yells.
He pulls it all the way up to her chin, exposing her to the cold air. His head is buried into her shoulder. "Sorry. Fuck. Sorry."
"Fuckin' hell," Tanta blows.
Now both hands are on her neck, and Razutshi lifts himself over her, choking her. She tears at his hands, a sting finally coming to her eyes as oxygen struggles to reach her lungs. Tanta says something, annoyed, but she doesn't really make it out. Blood is pumping in her ears. All she hears is her own wheezing, but over Razutshi's shoulder, she sees Tanta unlocking the door.
He's coming in.
They lock eyes. Razutshi lightens his hold on her, and she manages to take in a few breaths before Tanta pushes him to the side, holding her jaw in one, massive hand.
"I think," he simpers, "it's about time you give me that kiss."
Instead, she winds back her leg and nails him in the groin, sending him on his side, groaning. Another second later, she's shoving his skull against the floor, knocking him out cold. The air turns cold and still. Hinata pulls down her shirt, rubs the blood out of her eye, and turns to Razutshi.
"Let's go."
...
Neither of them know the way out, naturally. They follow the corridor to a set of stairs, which leads them to another long and dark corridor full of cellars. Hinata doesn't take the time to look into all of them, but when they run by, some of them look occupied.
They find another spiraling staircase, only to be spotted by a man at the top. He grabs her by the hair, sneering.
"Come on, Razutshi," he huffs. "We'll take her to Boss and let her deal with —"
Instead, Razutshi slams into him, knocking him over with Hinata's hair almost being ripped out in the middle of it. The man lands with a nasty thunk against the hard floor, and they continue on, keeping their steps quiet and fast as they continue on.
"I can't believe I did that," he says to himself. "I know that guy. He —"
"He'll be okay," Hinata tells him. "Just a bump on the head."
Twenty more minutes of sneaking around, they finally come across a ladder that leads to a door in the ceiling. Hinata goes first, pushing it open to find wind and sand in her face. Outside. They made it.
They climb out, quietly shutting the door outside. It's day, with the sun hanging slightly in the west, slowly sinking. Whatever bunker they've just crawled out of is in the middle of nowhere, with nothing but golden sand around them. Razutshi looks just as lost as she feels, scratching his head.
"I haven't been out this way before," he says. "I . . . don't even know where to begin."
"Which way do you guys usually go when you're coming to Suna?" she asks.
He thinks for a moment, securing his jacket over his shoulders to protect his arms from the sun.
"East," he says, though his tone is unsure, "but Zaiaku was always the one leading."
With the guide of the sun, Hinata turns in the opposite direction and begins to journey down a slight hill. "If we don't hit Suna," she explains, "then we'll eventually hit the Land of Fire, and we can go from there."
Wobbling, Razutshi follows after her. "You really think we won't get lost and die out here?"
"We'll make it." They have to. She has to get back to Sasuke.
If she dies out here, alone, and with her only source of information about Zaiaku with her — if he finds her a corpse after searching for weeks — then it won't just be the Kazekage that Suna will have to worry about.