- The Royal Ball, in the midst of overwhelmingness -
Things, simply, occur at their own whims. Sasuke has lived a long life full of many examples of such. He didn't think he'd lose both parents, but that's what happened. He hadn't, necessarily, been looking forward to spending his adult life searching for his brother, but that's what he's been doing. And, just that morning, Sasuke had adamantly decided he would not, under any circumstances, go to the Royal Ball being held in celebration of the Empress's one-day freedom of her curse.
And yet.
If he had to describe it to Aoda, who, being the giant creature he is, was mercilessly denied invitation to the event, Sasuke would go no further than to describe the ball as overwhelming. There were plenty of people, but that wasn't the only reason. The smells, the tastes in the air, assaulted his senses the moment he stepped into the giant ballroom — no! Even before that. Even outside of the palace, as the royal guards considered him with great concern before letting him enter (as if he hadn't been around for the past several days), Sasuke had been riled by sensory overload. But inside, it all hits him at once. Rose fragrances and wine. Shoe polish and mothballs. Steamed fabric. Sweat. Mint teeth.
The smell of magic is the worst. He is not the only mage at this party. He may, however, be the only dark mage about. The sweet smell of bamboo and springs and lilac coats the air. It stings his sinuses and rustles against his magical core. He can feel venom rise in irritation. Caduceus rattles at his hip.
Not a very smart plan to come to the Royal Ball, Snake Mage. Not at all.
The set-up is rather typical. Or not. How should he know? The last time he came to a ball was when he was a child. Decades ago. The entrance is a balcony with two, grand staircases leading down to the main floor. Buffet tables clothed in gold and magenta silk line the West Wall, and small, tall, round tables for guests to rally around and chat and have their drinks gather in the East corner. There's an announcer on the balcony, rather feeble in the legs. Sasuke had thought he'd fall over when his name was called, the room had died down for only a moment when his title echoed through the ballroom. How nice that had been. If only it had stayed quiet.
There's an orchestra in the back, close to the dancing floors.
Sasuke has taken great precautions to stay far away from such noise and bustle. He lingers by the walls, sneering at every fluttering skirt and wagging braid and black-toed shoe.
Why has he come?
What reason is there for him to be here? He ought to be in the lab Karin had shown him, dissecting those daisies that were pulled from Hinata's ears. That's the purpose of his stay, isn't it? To reverse the curse.
"Sasuke — ugh, you rat!"
Speaking of Karin.
The lady-in-waiting has found him through the crowd, marching his way in a rather unlady-like manner. It reminds him of how he knew her as a child. That strange, bug-studying girl. Wearing boots and storming through marshes. His amusement lights his eyes, which does nothing good to Karin's already sour mood.
"Why, Sasuke?" she snaps, hands crossing at her torso. "Why must you make everything difficult? Are rules hard to understand for a Snake Mage? I say sit, and you run for the hills!"
"Tell me my wrongs," he drones, "so I may right them, Karin."
She does not believe him, clearly, but still has a go at it. "It's a ball. Do you see anyone else wearing garb like you?"
No, of course. He knew what to expect in terms of wear. He may not be a proper ball-goer, but he's not a moron. Ladies wear their gowns and twist their hair and color their mouths with berries and lip balm, and gentlemen wear tailcoats and tied cravats and gleaming dress shoes. And Sasuke is not a gentleman. Assuming such would be a mistake on the other, not on him.
Besides, who in their right head would think a traveling mage would have the right closet for such events?
Robes and jenkins and boots are all he has to work with.
"Shall I undress and parade myself bare?"
Karin smacks his shoulder. Very unlady-like, indeed. "Will you do nothing but edge my nerves tonight, Rat?"
"I am being civil, Karin. Give me that much."
Her anger flushes bright on her face. Karin waves her hand to cool her temper, and she sighs and huffs. "Tell me honestly: why have you come? This morning, you said you wouldn't."
Isn't that the question? Sasuke lifts his gaze from her flustered face, turning slightly to observe the room. He searches for a reason, for something to placate her curiosity. Anything at all, as long as it's believable, for she won't take a non-answer at all. Through top hats and braids and puffed gowns, he finds the orchestra, then the dancers, then the Empress. She stands out without her lady-in-waiting at her side. Her hair is a long cascade down her back, roped and curled nicely. With no flowers growing from her ears, she looks normal; as normal as an empress can be, that is. His gaze stays on her face for a while. She's grown, hasn't she? Matured from that little princess in the garden. He knows this. But with the curse temporarily away, there is no distraction from her features, the soft turn of her mouth.
Sasuke has to force his gaze away, where he sees the tall, familiar figure of the great Light Mage Tsunade. She plucks a glass of champagne from a tray. Probably her fifth or sixth of the night. Her drinking habits are just as famous as her magical abilities.
"Tsunade," falls from his mouth before he can even look back at Karin. Somehow, his mouth feels dry. "I'd like to have word with her about her attempts at the curse."
Karin seems to believe him, but her mouth still pinches. "Keep it quick. The Great Mage hates to have a party snuffed out."
And, finally, she leaves. Sweeping through the crowd to return to her lady's side. He doesn't allow his gaze to follow her. He hovers by the wall a few moments more, then makes his way to Tsunade, traversing through clouds of fragrances. When people spot and recognize him, they part way with a jump. It makes it somewhat easier to get to the Great Mage. Tsunade snorts her laughter like a pig, and she towers over the other ladies (and some men) around her. Her champagne is already gone, and when she casts her gaze aside to spot another passing tray of drinks, she finds him approaching.
"Sasuke Uchiha," she greets with no outright emotion behind her tone. "When I heard them announce your name, I was sure I heard wrong. Yet here you are."
"Here I am," he drones.
Some of the ladies around Tsunade do not recognize him. Naive birds, aren't they? But when she gives them a good detail about his title and the sort of dark power he possesses, their powdered faces lose color, and they flap their fans nervously as they look at each other.
"Of course," she ends off just as another champagne tray passes by for her to snatch a glass, "I hear he's come to break Her Highness's curse, so you'll hear no ill word from me."
Had she mentioned that earlier, perhaps the women around wouldn't look so startled. Or maybe not. For the curse or not, Sasuke Uchiha is still a practitioner of dark magic. With strained smiles, they loll off. Not that Sasuke has any mind to complain. He wanted privacy to speak with Tsunade, anyhow.
"I've come to inquire about your practices with the curse."
She takes a sip of her drink. "Naturally. Have you had a chance at the buggers yet? Nasty hex, it is."
If he had a good head, he'd be working on the curse right now instead of meandering a ball he isn't even thrilled to be at. "Soon."
"Let's see if it drops that pride of yours a peg. Every good mage needs a challenge."
He's a good mage, challenge or not. And he's not afraid of coming out of this a failure. Unlike this supposed Great Mage, Sasuke has the wherewithal to stick to something even if it gives a little bit of pushback.
"When you used your magic on the curse, how did it react?"
Another snort. Another gulp of champagne. "Like I was back in my rookie days. Not a dent. Nothing."
Depending on the curse, breaking one could result in different ways. Most shatter. Some wilt. Others smoke up. It's the clash of the dark magic of a hex and the power of light magic reacting, clashing together, that undoes the majority of curses. If one had no reaction to the spells of one of the most powerful Light Mages, that is cause for concern. Sasuke had known, coming, that he'd have a challenge on his hands. But to hear no reaction instead of weak reactions catches him off guard.
"What do you suspect?" he asks.
Tsunade studies him from the corner of her eye. "What do you?"
He thinks some, then says, "A Light lock."
It's the only possibility he can think of for now. Light Locks serve as an additional barrier to some spells. First, you'd have to unlock it before dealing with what's beneath — in this case, a curse. And the thing with Light Locks is that the key is light magic itself — a very specific kind. One that, perhaps, even the Great Light Mage Tsunade does not possess.
She considers this answer with the lip of her glass at her mouth. "If that's the case, you'll have thousands of specimen to test."
Which, in any other case, would be a problem beyond time and collection of said light specimen. He'd have to test it on the flowers. Thankfully, if he doesn't have the answer with these daisies, he'll merely have to wait another month before the removal process comes again.
"I'm not worried," he says.
Tsunade frowns before drinking the last of her champagne. "Of course not. It's not you having to go through the pain, after all."
And, unconsciously, his eyes find Hinata again. Clean face and painted mouth. Her gown drapes behind her like a cape. Just hours ago, they had been out in the wild. Wind caught in her hair. Smudged and dirty, but still elegant in that royal way that must have been sewn into her at a young age. Sasuke doesn't realize she's approaching them until he smells something light in the air. Watermelon.
Is he imagining things?
"I'm glad you both have come." Her voice is sweet and controlled. So is her smile.
"You know I cannot miss a ball, poppet." Tsunade grins.
Hinata looks to him, and he bows as he ought to, showing his respect. Smiling, she waves Karin over, says something into her ear, then sends her off. Within a moment, the orchestra pauses, and the dance floor empties of its occupants. Hinata offers an outstretched hand to him, waiting for an arm to hang upon.
"Will you take me to dance, Sasuke?"
His frown is mild, but inside, he's not fond of the idea at all. He would have been happy to spend the entire night without a single dance, and he's quite sure she knows it, too. Probably, she has come to tease him. There are still remains of her husband's influence on her, it seems. Even dead, the bastard can't leave him alone.
Sasuke lets her hook her arm around his left elbow, and then he takes her to the open floor. Her dress sweeps with her. She looks like she's gliding. Pearls pepper in her hair.
"A waltz, won't you?" she calls to the orchestra. The conductor jumps and nods quickly, red-faced and excited. Sheet papers flip, and instruments hang in preparation. Sasuke believes the last time he's done a waltz was when he was six. With Karin, in fact. She stomped on his feet, so he'd pull at her braid when the mothers weren't looking. An empress would, of course, be much better at the waltz than children; it's he who won't match up to it. And, again, he is sure she knows this. "Your hand, Sasuke."
He fits his left to her right, but she fixes it, putting his right and her left together while her other hands on his shoulder. His frown broadens. The leader is supposed to lead with the non-dominant hand. He may not dance on the regular, but he knows that much.
"I hope they do Shostakovich," she whispers, as if it's a secret. "Are you worried?"
The corner of his mouth lifts to show a glint of teeth in his sneer. "Your faith in me is stinging, my lady."
"Then put your hand on my waist."
So he does, and he doesn't remember if he, as a child, was aware of the body heat rolling from Karin. Perhaps she did not have much. But Hinata is full of it, and feels almost like he's about to waltz with a fireplace. The conductor straightens. The instruments rise. Violins and trombones lead into Shostakovich's Waltz No. 2, which earns a dazzling smile from Hinata, and when the saxophones sing a low number into the first phrase, Sasuke brings them both into a classic box step — the only dance he really knows. He keeps them both in the center, not ready to travel until he's gotten muscle memory back in his step.
Hinata's fingers curl into his hand, and her eyes are sparkling.
When the flutes pop up, she tells him, "My lead when the violins start."
He blinks. "What?"
And just then, the entire line of violins overwhelms the orchestra, and Hinata suddenly lurches back, forcing him to follow with her. The ending tail of a gasp gets caught in his throat as she leads him around the floor, chin high, eyes on fire. Leading. She's leading. The tail of her dress floating around her legs. Has a new age begun in waltz? Do women lead often now? But even so, she's an empress, and she ought to be twirled around and glided down the floor at her leisure. But, then again, when Sasuke studies her face, she looks rather pleased, doesn't she? Like this is how it must be.
Turning his head just to the side, he gets a good look at Karin's face as they swing by. Utter horror. A leading empress — dancing with the most ill-fit man at the ball. And Sasuke, now sharing some of that pleasure, gets the good mind to raise his hand and spin her, which gets a good laugh from the empress as they continue to dance.
...
One waltz turns into something slower and less complicated. After the dedicated Empress dance, others are welcomed back on the floor to join them, and Sasuke is once again flooded with smells and tastes he'd rather not be exposed to. But Hinata keeps him on the floor, smelling clean and light herself.
"Did you know," she tells him, "that if a string quartet were playing this, the violins would be plucking their strings right now?"
He doesn't think any casual dancer would know such a thing, much less a novice like him. "You know much about music."
Her eyes dance with pride, which, maybe, tugs at his lungs some. "Naruto and I used to bother the orchestra. They were kind enough to answer our silly questions."
Sasuke tries to imagine Naruto at the foot of the orchestra, tugging at the concentrating conductor's pant leg every now and then to ask a question. It's not a hard thing to imagine, but it's tinged with bitterness that wrinkles into his face. Then, suddenly, he gets a hint of watermelon once more. And he thinks about what that means, and he compares that to what sort of tastes Naruto would make Hinata's blood into, and he finally finds her eye and asks, "Why are you happy I'm here?"
He spins her with the floor, and then they come back together, facing each other.
Her expression is confused, but she answers. "Because you are my friend."
Is that it? Because their friendship hardly runs deep. They've met twice. Anything she knows about him has most likely come from Naruto. And maybe that's the real reason; because he is a part of Naruto's past. Her husband is dead, but someone close to him is here, alive. So she dances with him and bothers him in his stables and looks at him with the awestruck eyes that she should only have for her husband.
"I'm not Naruto," he tells her.
"I know that."
"Once the curse is broken, I'm leaving."
She opens her mouth, but the song crawls to an end. He dips hers, eyeing the length of her neck as her head falls back some. He's slow to bring her back to her feet, and their eyes do not break away as guests leave or enter the floor, awaiting the next song. Sasuke does not mistaken the confusion in her face, the peeks of hurt in her eyes. She knows what he's saying, but she does not understand why he feels the need to say it.
"You are not Naruto," she agrees, lifting her hand for him to hold and press his mouth to. She speaks like an empress, and he is glad.
...
When the Royal Ball ends and nobles are chaperoned to their rooms or carriages, Sasuke is called to Hinata's chambers. Rolling the exhaust from his shoulders, Sasuke leads himself up the staircase, taking this turn and that hallway until he reaches his destination. The guards allow him entrance, where he finds Hinata sitting at a vanity, Karin standing behind her, picking the last of the pearls from her hair. Karin flashes him a sharp look, but says nothing. Rare. She must be tired, as well, to hold her tongue.
When Karin reaches for a brush, Hinata takes it.
"That's alright. You may sleep."
Karin meets her eye in the reflection. "My lady —"
"You've had a long day." Hinata smiles kindly. "Please. Rest."
So, hesitating, Karin curtseys to both her lady and Sasuke before taking the private door to her attached chamber. Hinata works on brushing her hair with her reflection as her guide. Sasuke makes sure to not take too much notice of her white sleeping gown as he comes to her side, bowing his head in greeting.
"In the morning," she says, "the flowers will begin to grow once more. I will lose my hearing until the end of the month."
"Yes, I'm aware."
She turns some in her chair, looking up at him.
"I've come up with a few gestures to help us communicate. Here. Watch."
She shows him one by one. Twirling her hand about her head is a show of confusion. Tapping her mouth is asking to slow down so she can read lips better. Tapping her chest is a means of questioning: What? Are you okay? Why? What's happened? Pulling at her hair means she's busy, and digging her left foot into the ground is asking for attention. Sasuke takes careful note of it all, though he still can't truly understand how this will be helpful. For her, perhaps. But wouldn't it be easier for him to understand her if she would just speak?
"That's all I've come up with for now. If it gets truly confusing, we always have Kō or paper of which I can write upon."
But he'll not bring it up. Not tonight.
"If you need me, but cannot find me —" He nods to one of the windows facing the stables where, somewhere, a great snake resides, "Aoda is my companion and has magic of his own. If you have a message for me, he will hear it. All you have to do is say my name."
Which, now that he's thinking about it, may not help if she refuses to speak when deaf.
But no disdain comes to her face. Instead, Hinata looks thoughtful as she drops her brush onto the vanity, turns to him, and says, "Sasuke."
And it stirs in him, as if he is Aoda, as if he's hearing her melancholic voice from halfway across the country.
"That's right."
She smiles, and as he leaves, he counts his lucky stars that it's only words and not smiles that Aoda can sense.
...
The next morning, as Sasuke readies for a trip to the creek to bath—
"A message," Aoda muses from above, eyes cast down, almost amused, "from little Hinata."
Sasuke schools his face. "She says?"
"Good morning. I hope this reaches you."
And then, the giant snakes chuckles, and even Sasuke cannot deny his own amusement.