Ino insisted on making breakfast the next morning. She woke up chipper––called it inspired––and made an overly indulgent meal of sweets and savory foods: sizzling pork and fresh baked bread, sweet fruits already peeled and diced, biscuits with browned dome heads, and eggs scrambled to perfection. Syrups, jams, and juices piled onto the kitchen countertops, stolen from the pantry and daintily placed into serving bowls.
It was the smell that woke Hinata, rubbing her eyes and feeling the vial of crushed mandrake root rub against the skin of her chest. It was warm with her sleep––she had almost forgotten it was there. Almost.
She got dressed lazily, like a person who knew they would be staying in for the rest of the day. Yoga pants and a T-shirt, hair tied up in a knot at the back of her head, her book and her cup of tea from last night clutched in a tired hands. She yawned when she entered the kitchen, then blinked when she realized the magnitude of Ino's culinary ambitions.
"Crepes," Ino sang, toes pointed on the red-tiled floor as if to do a dance. She was standing in front of a sweltering stove, a spatula in-hand. "I'm taking special requests. What do you want, Hinata-chan?"
Hinata slid up beside her and peered into the pan: true to her word, there was a thin layer of batter firming up in the pan. In front of them both was a window, the big one that showed the expanse of the gardens, where she glimpsed Sasuke and Sakura taking a stroll through the rose garden, hands clasped. She looked away, face burning.
Ino flipped the crepe and plated it. Then, she began pouring the mix for another, glancing out the window as she moved. "They're always arguing," she said, rolling her eyes once they locked on the couple.
When Hinata looked again she noticed the tight look on Sasuke's face and Sakura's drawn eyebrows. Even the roses looked unhappy.
"It's––it's not my business," Hinata said, turning away, feeling the vial press against the space between her breasts inside her shirt. She turned to Ino energetically, "What do you need help with?"
Ino peered at her, but said nothing. She just handed Hinata a small notepad and told her to collect orders.
Fifteen or so minutes later, Hinata had gathered everyone in the kitchen or dining room, and was taking requests for Crepes after the table had been set with everything else. She decided, as she diligently wrote down Naruto's request for what seemed to be a culinary abomination ("Ramen-Flavored Crepes"), that she liked playing house. It was fun, pretending that they were all friends for the two and a half weeks they had been in Italy. It was nice eating together, watching movies together, and taking group outings. And while there were moments of awkwardness––always, those moments––there was also a sense of warmth that Hinata had never felt before. B6 was less of a community than this. For once, she thought about how lucky they all were to be able to live the lives they wanted to live.
Still, she had a job to do. That was why she took special care around Sakura's request––a Crepe with strawberry filling––and mixed the strawberries and sugar herself. She was careful when she slipped the vial from her shirt and between her fingertips, diligently angling her body away from the group. She was a quick slide of hands––fast, refined, and disarmingly accurate––as the powder dropped into the bowl and mixed with the sugar. She handed Ino the bowl of strawberries and wiped her hands of it: her work for the morning was done.
-:-
The day ticked by slowly as Hinata waited. She was starting to feel anxious when she saw Sakura get out of the pool, presumably on her way to begin getting ready for whatever it was they had all come here for. It was nearing 5pm––hours after breakfast.
Hinata caught sight of Sakura in the kitchen, pouring green tea, when she rubbed her stomach, a look of pain flashing across her face. Hinata was across the room; she'd had her nose in a novel and was drinking iced coffee in a patch of sunlight at the table like a cat.
She hadn't really seen Sasuke all day, aside from the shared breakfast. He seemed to be in meetings with Shikamaru and Naruto, hiding away in corners of the villa Hinata hadn't known existed. It was unfortunate how often he filled her thoughts. How, every time he entered one of the living spaces, their eyes met, and Hinata wanted to speak to him, to touch him, to disappear into a garden with him. There was static between them at any given moment, so prominent she felt it raise the air on her arms. It was, quite frankly, terrifying.
So now that suddenly, today, they had scarcely spoken, Hinata was feeling a bit…well, hungry. Last week they had managed to find time together; sometimes an entire day, sometimes just a handful of minutes, and Hinata felt satisfied by day's end. But now, going without speaking to him was making her feel crazy.
So…that was concerning. What was more concerning was Sakura groaning, her hand fisted on top of the granite counter. She was bent over.
Hinata's head sprang up, thinking finally, but saying, "S-Sakura-san, are you alright?"
Sakura grimaced but managed to stand up straight. She waved her hand dismissively, "I'm fine. I'm fine. I think I'm just starting my period."
"Oh no," Hinata said empathetically, standing from her cozy seat. "Do you need––"
"No, I'm good," Sakura said curtly, still waving her hand, her face closed. "Please, go back to what you were doing."
With that, Sakura made a quick exit in the direction of the master suite. Minutes later, Hinata heard the sound of painful retching echo down the hallway. Sakura was throwing up.
-:-
Sasuke held Sakura's hair at the back of her head as she heaved over the toilet, her face pitched red. There was sweat congealing at her hairline. For the past hour and a half, she'd been throwing up that morning's breakfast and yesterday's dinner from the look of the poorly-digested stalks of asparagus.
As she leaned back, neck red and equally as sweaty, Sasuke handed her a towel. He checked his watch as she dabbed her forehead, holding her stomach and groaning. Sasuke grimaced and said, "I think you––"
"Sasuke no I––" Sakura gagged and began turning purple. Sasuke took the towel from her before she could vomit on it. He watched her swallow it back down, looking queasy as she did so. "This––this is important. You said that–––you said someone has to go––"
She vomited. Sasuke sighed and wiped her forehead with the damp towel, trying not to look at his watch again. "Clearly you're in no state to do anything other than get into bed."
"But what about––"
"I'll figure it out. There's a doctor already on the way."
Sakura didn't protest for several more minutes as they both sat in the bathroom; Sakura kneeling on the white-tiled floor, Sasuke crouching just behind her. When it was apparent that the vomiting had stopped temporarily, Sasuke helped his fianceé into bed, tenderly pressing his fingers to the back of her balmy neck.
He was finding tenderness difficult these days, especially with everything he knew about her and Naruto. Besides, his energies were being diverted to other places; but the least he could do was make sure she was comfortable. For now, he would keep up the act despite the fact that it was frustrating that she would get sick when it was finally her turn to uphold her side of the arrangement. How was he supposed to show up to Chiyo's now? They were supposed to leave in two hours.
When Sakura was nestled under the covers, he pulled up a trash can just in case she didn't make it to the bathroom in time, and collected a cup of ginger tea from one of the servants. Once she was settled with the TV remote in her lap, Sasuke turned to go into the bathroom to take his shower. Unfortunately, it still smelled faintly of regurgitated foods.
"Wait, Sasuke," Sakura called, craning her red neck.
When Sasuke turned and saw that she was crying, he sighed. He resisted the urge to be impatient, instead making his voice soft as he asked her what was wrong.
"I feel like I failed you," she said in a small voice. "This was supposed to be my first task on your arm as…as Yakuza," she whispered the last part, her tears collecting on her dry lips. "––I mean, I know I'm not initiated yet or anything. But, I just wanted to be helpful and now––"
"You can't help that you're sick, Sakura," Sasuke said kindly, pushing her bangs from her forehead with cold fingers. Her face was burning up. "Don't worry. If we're to marry, this won't be your last opportunity."
"Of––of course we're going to get married," Sakura cried, suddenly covering her face with both hands. It seemed, to Sasuke, that she had reached the delirious part of whatever illness had forsaken her, because Sasuke didn't remember suggesting anything to the contrary.
Luckily, he was saved from answering when Magda knocked on the door and led in the doctor. Sasuke quickly relayed Sakura's symptoms to the gray-haired Italian man in dicey Italian, gave Sakura a perfunctory kiss on the forehead, and slipped out of the room like he wouldn't get a second chance to go.
He immediately found Shikamaru in his bedroom, steaming his tuxedo with one hand, an unlit cigarette in the other. Naruto was laid across the bed, holding his phone in the air as he watched Youtube videos on the lowest possible volume. They both looked at Sasuke when he entered.
"Prognosis?"
Sasuke shrugged, "Sick as fuck. What are we going to do?"
"We could always hire an escort––"
"You're a fucking idiot, Naruto," Shikamaru scoffed, though his eyebrows did lift appreciatively at the thought. "No. Chiyo will know if we don't know the woman. I'm already unsure about bringing Ino in the first place––she's far too nosy."
"Just put her in her place and sit her with the rest of the ladies," said Naruto, who wouldn't be going to the actual party because he didn't have a date. "I guess Sasuke will have to join me and Sai as protection and––"
Sasuke cut eyes at him and Naruto stopped talking as the energy in the room soured considerably. Shikamaru even put the steamer down and just started smoking instead.
"Clearly, Sasuke has to be the one to talk to Suna. He's the only one who can offer any trade deals as Fugaku-sama's almost-Lieutenant."
Suna was like that. Sabaku Gaara was the boss, and Temari and Kankuro were his Lieutenants. To get Chiyo to help them, Sasuke would have to talk to Gaara first.
"Right," Naruto said. "I forgot about that. Why don't you just take Hinata-chan, teme? She already went to the conference and she was super professional. What's one more party?"
Huh. Sasuke frowned, pondering that. He hadn't thought to bring Hinata––mostly because she didn't belong in this world. He'd already put her in danger twice…how could he do that again? It wasn't her job to help them. But still, as Sasuke thought through their plight, there seemed to be no other choice in the matter. Sasuke needed a guest––and one who was comfortable with him. Without one, Chiyo would feel disrespected.
"––is that really something we want Hinata to do?" Shikamaru broke in, looking…strange. His face was tense, like he had just sucked on something sour. "She's…you know…not one of us."
It was the second time Shikamaru had spoken a word of caution against the woman. Sasuke felt something bristle inside him at this response––irritation. He cocked his head to the side, lifting a brow, "do you know something we don't, Nara? She's been a diligent worker from the start."
"No," Shikamaru said, tight expression falling just as easily as it had been placed. "I'm just trying to be careful."
"We've run out of careful options," Sasuke said briskly as he turned towards the door. They needed to get this done. Hinata could do no more harm than a fruit fly. "I'm going to get her ready."
-:-
Carefully, Hinata slipped the bug under the sleeve of her long dress and its magnetic collar sat peacefully against Hinata's metallic bracelet until she was ready to deploy it for use. She stood gracefully when a knock rapped at her door, and she smiled when she saw Sasuke fastening the cuff-links of his sleeve.
"Let me," she said quietly, walking over. He was wearing diamonds that glinted when Hinata placed her fingers on his, then slid them to his wrists. He smelled delightful––sauve like amber, woody like the earth, and a hint of fire––spice––that Hinata could not place. She felt his gaze on the top of her head and looked up into those long lashes and gave him a shy look. "I'm––I'm sorry Sakura couldn't come. A-are you sure it's appropriate for me to take her place?"
"You look beautiful," Sasuke said, instead of answering her question, and Hinata felt his gaze on her in that moment, heat rising to her neck and her ears. She was wearing a long, satin dress. All black, and open in the back. Dangerously low. It was snug to her neck in the front, and tight to the rest of her figure as well before it fanned out around her feet subtly. The long bell sleeves, looser at the wrists, made her feel like a panther.
Hinata had not come to Italy prepared for this occasion. Lucky, Ino knew a designer she'd modeled for in Milan and called in a favor. Said designer had a stylist-friend based in Rome who received Hinata's measurements and had a driver send the piece once he found one that suited her. Sasuke paid the man a steep sum, just for her to borrow it.
She wore it like it was custom made. Ino had spent the next hour complaining about the lack of time but meticulously styling her despite it all. Hinata found herself with minimal makeup, save for mascara, brown liner, and a soft pink lip ("You make enough blush on your own," Ino had commented after she added a smidge of highlight), and her hair tied in a slick knot at the back of head. Ino loved when she exposed her neck, and lended her a pair of glowing pearl earrings for the night.
All this, and Hinata still did not know what occasion was; one in which she'd poisoned a woman for. It seemed important, based on Sasuke's need for someone––anyone––to accompany him. Still, Hinata played her role well, acting coy and nervous as she finished with the cuff links. She even played a little bit of pretend, imagining her and Sasuke going to a gala that was real––perhaps a benefit ball, where they were big donors––and spending the evening together with their heads close together, all smiles for the crowds.
The daydream pained her because it was unusual. She usually did not allow such things to plague her mind. It was irrational for an agent to feel that way because they were forced to be present in all aspects of their lives. Being aware of reality was life or death. Becoming untethered had cost her own mother's life.
All the thoughts were banished when Sasuke placed a hand under her chin, lifting her face to his. And he was looking down at her so sweetly, his eyes so fierce yet calming, his mouth set in a small smirk. "You have nothing to worry about, Hinata. You'll be with me."
"D-did I…do I seem nervous?" Hinata stuttered, not sure if it was because she did feel nervous, or because his gaze unarmed her, how complete his attention was on her. How small her room suddenly felt. How close their bodies were.
"Yes," Sasuke chuckled. He placed a kiss at her forehead before taking a step back. Hinata could hear Shikamaru and Naruto coming down the stairs. "It will be okay. I have some important business partners to meet tonight, but otherwise, you should enjoy the party. If we must separate, you will be fine with Ino by your side, right?"
"Of course," Hinata nodded, still pondering the sensation of his lips against her hairline. So soft. She wished for longer.
"You should try to enjoy yourself," Sasuke said, stepping out of the room after Shikamaru said the car was ready. "You deserve it."
-:-
The car that followed them into Rome was Naruto and Sai, but Hinata pretended not to notice. She sat in the backseat with Ino the entire ride, while Shikamaru and Sasuke chatted about work piling up at the office––useless, air-filling shit; it was like they were talking about something else altogether.
Hinata spent the time speaking quietly to Ino about similar things; lip gloss, vacation plans, and whether or not Ino should get a cat for her birthday. Ino smoothed Hinata's flyaway hairs with a flick of her hands––fingers set in all gold rings. She looked gorgeous, wearing a long gown the color of pomegranate seeds. Her hair was in her usual high-ponytail but curled at the ends.
The clock hit 8:15 when they arrived in the circle driveway––Naruto and Sai's vehicle revving off in the opposite direction. They would go park elsewhere, Hinata guessed. She felt her nerves build as she looked upon the estate: A beautiful modern building with all the fixings of the old; pillars with lights highlighting the gleaming marble; a fountain in the middle of the circle-driveway with a cherub dancing amongst the bubbling waters; beautifully round archways with carved olive branches; and tastefully sculpted bushes, curving along the walkway.
More than that––Hinata recognized the insignia at the top of the building with a jolt to her chest. The Suna symbol sat proudly, lit by subtle lanterns. Hinata had only ever interacted with the Suna clan once, but it was from afar, and years ago on assignment. The clan was notorious for their ruthless trafficking rings––drugs and weapons mostly––in cities south of Konoha. Seeing that symbol, the anxiety that bubbled in her stomach suddenly became real apprehension.
It confirmed for her the seriousness of this event…and how much Sasuke must trust her to bring her here. It was no regular birthday party at all––this was huge. This was like being invited to the Emperor's palace for tea.
Hinata swallowed as a butler opened the door for her. When she got out, Dove roared with attention. Finally.
Their small group was quietly checked-in with security and ushered through the grand doorway. The entrance was as opulent as it looked, and they were led to the left––a ballroom; the other side, Hinata assumed, were private quarters.
Hinata felt calmer once they had passed that point and no one had been notified of her spyware technology. As they walked through yet another grand doorway, she tapped the bug three times under her sleeve, activating it for the first time in weeks. She kept it there until it was time to move it, but felt the familiar, low buzz against her skin; undetectable to anyone else but her.
"What do you think?" Sasuke asked, his voice low and close to her ear. He caught her looking down, lost in thought and concentration as they walked into the grand ballroom. Sasuke took her arm in his and led her across the sophisticated tiles. Under their feet were ruby-red geometric patterns, like murals, shining across the floor. "It's a lot, right?"
"So much," Hinata agreed, looking at him with a breath. She didn't know why she was so nervous, but she had the sneaking suspicion that it had to do with the fact that Uchiha, Sasuke was on her arm––and other people, important people, could see them. "Is your life always like this?"
Music floated down from the second-floor balconies, and Hinata timed her breath with the slow-moving jazz. She was good. She was in control of the situation. She was present. She tightened her grip on Sasuke's arm and smiled at him––trying to reassure him that he made the right choice in bringing her. But when she looked at him, it was clear that he already held no doubts. His mouth was lifted into an easy smile when he greeted people passing by, his hand was gentle on her lower back, and his dark-gaze was unburdened. He almost seemed peaceful.
"A little," Sasuke shrugged before getting looped into a conversation with an American man, switching from Japanese to near-perfect English. Hinata remembered this from his dossier: schooling abroad. Or were there visits abroad? She couldn't remember anything Sasuke hadn't told her himself anymore. Dammit.
When the man walked away, Sasuke tilted his head, curious about her thoughts. When she didn't offer any, he continued: "Having a politician brother will do that to you. I got used to it after a while. What about you, heiress? Osaka is huge, I'm sure you've had your share of parties."
"Fair enough," Hinata said, then had to lean into a bow when a woman came up to her, recognizing the Uchiha on her arm. While Sasuke greeted her, Hinata was reminded of some Hyuga conventions: when Hiashi had closed-circle political events with the Hokage he would sometimes bring Hinata and Hitomi.
There, Hinata was expected to bow and be polite and play along. This wasn't all that different. When the woman walked away, Hinata said, "A few parties, but none like this. My father is far too lowkey. Besides––this feels different."
"How come?"
"Because," Hinata said, stopping and feeling the heat rise to her cheeks. Sasuke was staring at her, and she could feel every inch of his obsidian gaze. They had moved off to the side now, near one of the big windows where Hinata could see a small pond in the distance occupied by sitting ducks. "I-I just want to make sure everything is perfect for you. This––this seems really important."
"That's not your responsibility," Sasuke said frankly. He touched her chin––just once––with his finger, lifting her head to make her look at him. "You're my guest––my date," he amended.
"Date?" Hinata repeated, eyes widening.
"Yes," Sasuke deadpanned, amused. "We've been on those before, remember? The only thing I'm expecting of you tonight is to meet the matriarch. Sabaku Chiyo."
"We've been on dates?" Hinata said, a sneaky smile sliding across her face. She laughed when Sasuke's shock at the question turned into a glare when he realized she was kidding.
"This'll be our last one if you act like that," Sasuke said as he led them back towards the center of the room, where all the networking and conversations were happening.
"Oh, sure sure," Hinata agreed, patting his arm like an old friend. "But I'm fine with meeting Chiyo-san, of course––"
"Chiyo-sama," Sasuke corrected, playfulness gone from his voice. Hinata picked up on this and noted it for later. It confirmed her thoughts on Suna and the syndicate business, which was helpful if not unnerving. Yes, she'd have to be careful.
"Chiyo-sama," Hinata amended gracefully, though the bubbles of anxiety were back in her stomach, and this time she didn't think they would be going anywhere. "Have you met before?"
They were crossing the outside of the dance floor, where a few couples were looping around to the music, their arms clasped. Mostly, everyone gathered around the tables. There were windows to the back––large, floor-to-ceiling––which revealed a garden full of lavish plants. Hinata noted an exit not too far away. She quickly scanned for another one while Sasuke pulled out his phone. Behind her, there was the one they'd come through. To the far right looked to be the door that led to the kitchens, because servants kept coming out with trays. To the left––a hallway. Perhaps to the bathrooms.
"No, we've never met," Sasuke said, which to Hinata, made the situation even stranger. A birthday party for an old woman you've never met? She chewed on this information as she continued her scan.
Some ways behind them, Ino and Shikamaru were stopped beside an ice-sculpture, chatting with a blonde-haired woman. Ino had one eyebrow ticked up in barely-concealed annoyance. What's happening there? Hinata wondered, before turning back to Sasuke.
Sasuke took her arm, and they stopped walking. "You're so nervous," he said, misinterpreting her caution for anxiety. Though he wasn't far off. Even so, his touch made her shiver. "What're you afraid of?"
Sudden death. Failing this mission. Failing the night. Falling in love. With you. Hinata thought, all at once, crashing into the back of her head like a derailed train. She felt like a deer-in-headlights. The lights from the ceiling were golden chandeliers, but they were so bright, they burned. Falling in love with you, Hinata thought again, alarmed. Suddenly, she needed water, but there was none––just champagne. She cleared her throat and grabbed a flute from a nearby server––making it look graceful with a smooth arm, washing her Sahara-dry throat with sweet-tasting alcohol. And to think, she usually never drank on assignment.
She handed Sasuke one play off the desperation of her movement. Once she swallowed, she felt her hand sit on his waist comfortably––almost too comfortably, but he grabbed it and interlaced their fingers as they continued to walk. Sasuke was attractive in his all-black tuxedo, it fit nicely against his lithe figure. There was something unmistakable Yakuza about him here––the way he carried himself. The way he commanded attention. The dangerous way he shifted his eyes, catching everything; leaving nothing out.
"Aren't you two a vision," someone said from behind them.
Together, Sasuke and Hinata turned to see the blonde woman Ino and Shikamaru had been speaking to, with Ino and Shikamaru in tow. She was striking: muscled arms, lean torso, hair––shocking and bright––in two poofs slicked against her head. She wore a red dress that moved like water against her body. Hinata bowed immediately, recognizing her position. Sasuke followed suit, but he had an eyebrow raised in subtle irritation.
"Shikamaru-san was just telling me about your trip! He also told me that your fianceé, Sakura-san, fell ill so you thought to bring your assistant," the woman said, eye flickering to Hinata before returning to Sasuke. "You, of course, Uchiha-san, would've been fine without a guest but it looks like…"
The woman's eyes fell to their clasped hands. But Sasuke didn't release her, despite Hinata's anxious tug. Her face flushed. Why would Shikamaru say such a thing?!
"Temari-san, right?" Sasuke said coolly, cocking his head to the side. He placed his champagne flute to the passing waiter and shook her hand with his newly free one, still holding tight to Hinata. "I've heard so much about you. This is Hyuga Hinata; she's currently training to be a lawyer herself. I thought this might be a good networking opportunity."
"Nothing better than a birthday party for the elderly to make connections," Temari said tightly, eyes meeting Hinata's. "Hello, there. We Sabakus welcome you."
"It's a pleasure to be welcomed," Hinata said, bowing again, though she could feel sweat gathering on the back of her neck. Now these were the true political games. She had the feeling they were just getting started. "And a pleasure to meet you, Temari-san. Your home is absolutely beautiful."
"Thank you," Temari said, not bothering to spend any more time speaking to her. She turned her full attention to Sasuke and Shikamaru. "I've been sent to personally escort you both, and your guests, to my grandmother. Is now a good time?"
"It's perfect," Sasuke said, pulling Hinata forward. She wanted to be under his arm, burrowed like a small animal, but instead she walked confidently beside him. She wasn't the star of this show and that was a good thing.
Hinata had read about Termari in one of B6's dossiers years ago and it hadn't been updated since.
When Hinata was 19, she'd been sent on an assignment to trail the trafficking route of a neuropsychiatric antiviral drug that began to show up on the recreational-drug scene. The drug had a psychedelic effect when chemically altered and was being added to lace tabs of LSD and Molly––if too much was taken, or too much was added, it led to renal failure.
After four or five highschoolers went down with the same condition, Hinata was tasked with following the drug. It was her first solo mission––Kiba had been out sick; injured from their previous mission and resting with a recovering metatarsal fracture. And so, Hinata found herself alone, living in a converted-van in a small ocean-side town. It was remote, and she had been posing as a camper.
There, in that place, was the first time Hinata had come across the gourd symbology of Suna. It was written everywhere: graffitied on the walls, carved into the cement, written across takeout menus. Hinata thought that she was breaking through something huge: at the time, Suna was lesser known. They only had a few dossiers written in association with the name––and one of them included Temari. What was shocking to Hinata was that they were nearly the same age.
In their books, there was only a picture of Temari as a highschooler, in uniform. Her relationships were unknown. Her family was unknown. Her location was unknown. The only thing the book said was: "Sharp shooter. Good with weapons. Went to Juvenile Detention during 10th year for badly injuring a classmate. Got out early on good behavior. Gang initiation to Suna possible."
So, when Hinata arrived in her Hippie-van and belly shirts, she was careful to look for anyone who looked like her. Hinata spent three weeks stoking fires, picking up seashells, and going to undercover raves––trying to bridge the gaps in the maps she'd been drawing for months. At that time, at B6, she just needed a win.
Just like she needs a win now. So, it shocked her when they walked into the plush room, where an elderly woman lounged on a couch, whom Termari bowed low to––her grandmother, Chiyo; where Sasuke held her hand, his body alert and protective; where Hinata aimed to sink into the background, pressed against Ino; she saw him. The boy of interest from that very same mission––now a man.
No-Name Gaara.
Seems like he had a name afterall.