QOTC 

Stranger: When you come back here, remember the first boy who didn't turn his back on you when he discovered your secret. 

Hotaru: You're the first ever boy who ever danced with me. **********************************************************************

Chapter 59: Something Filthy in the Air

Smokes and lights escaped the wild night of the Sound Village. Located underground, where Orochimaru's former household had been, was the Requiem (Japanese death song) party. There were endless streams of neon flashes, flashes Hotaru would have driven crazy herself. "You sure you can manage?" Kisame mocked, who was just right behind him. "I'm fine."She said, as she had continued scouting the pandemonium, Kisame grinning. There were random fine people inside, people whose dignities have been long gone.

The beat soared louder, louder than any outraging violence Hotaru had ever heard. Everything almost sounded mute to her now, and being stuck in the middle of the dancing crowd she could see a variety of famous criminals whose names were never gone from the Shinobi Portal. A man wearing bandana with a scar in his right eye, a woman with bright maroon hair dancing with another fellow rebel, reminding Hotaru of Chiruka. She was one of the reasons she had to get away from Taki, and drifting away from that enormous hideout mader her feel like her birthday or somewhat an anniversary for independence. She was Kabuto's captive for so long, and he did not accustom watching her leave—he wanted to watch his walking piece of art like a pretty little doll. 

Requiem was outrageously outlandish and illusive. It did not require a age whether you have slayn a humanbeing or not—all the bouncers ever asked was to lay a detail of your short murder story or somehow any poser that signified of your impurity. It gave them the satisfaction to see two people wearing recognizable cloaks with reds that shaded blood and image of violence. 

Besides, even if they would not let Hotaru pass, due to the fact that she was never known to reside with the Akatsuki, either Kisame would threaten them with a large flashflood coming to Oto or Hotaru was simply his concuvine. Hotaru thanked Kami that she had finally suited the Akatsuki cloak or she would be on her intentional prayers that she did not ask Kisame to come along. 

Sliding within the crowd seemed like a difficult, hardened task. The people were giants and unlike the parties she had eventually went just for booze and travel onto her next home, the place was undergound. It had Orochimaru's face built and sculptured on the front, as a tribute of her former home being blown to ash. It lately arrived to her that as Orochimaru's former household the owners have succeeded upon turning one demolished underground land into a famous tourist spot. 

This was what exactly happened to society that the real word had been encountering. Humans knew no limits. Frankly all of these people were, but they were monsters. From Shinobi to homicide-committing bastards. She did not know if this was the kind of life they were looking for, but if this was how they expected their liftime approaching a couple of years from now. People held their fate in their hands like stars, and it was up to them whether to be born or to die and assolve into gas. 

She became stressful thinking of these that she had quite bumped into something alive, and tall. Morbidly tall. 

"Relax," Kisame said, as he twirled Hotaru using a hand. "Dance with me."

"I can't. I'm pregnant." Though she had to give it to him—he said a while ago that he would never dance due to his dehydration, and that people would often annoy him. Now Kisame seemed to be shoving that all to his throat all for the sake of raving with her, just a little fun. 

Hotaru stood in front of him, watching him offer a hand. She sighed. Somewhere, he could picture Sasuke dancing, drinking, or maybe even sexually infatuating among the flock of flesh-eating vultures. 

"I'm sorry, Kisame. I can't." 

She left him hanging there, although he would surely understand. He knew how important it was to her upon displaying a part to Sasuke's life, a role Itachi did not manage to accomplish. It was time for Sasuke to go back to his senses, not to live on some unknown warehouses and dungeons like a rat. 

She closed her eyes and breathed carefully. Though the music was loud, Hotaru had faith in God. It was the strongest connection she had, after parting with Gaara she started earnestly building a relation towards her religion. 

She opened them, gold here and there. She was used to seeing gold—when she was born, her wings had been very little but as their mirror was huge her mother used to admire the fragrant colors in her that never failed to twinkle on day or night. 

A flash of red and white glimmered in the dark. Hotaru raised her vampiric and fairy instinct on that color, as if pointing her to something.

Karin and Suigetsu were sitting on a bar stool, their faces closed and tight. Hotaru tilted her head due to her observation. They were kissing, their mouths battling for dominance. The bites of Karin have reappeared, and there was one on her neck Hotaru doubted it came from Suigetsu. Hotaru brought her feet faster to the bar. "I didn't expect you two would come along."

By the sound of Hotaru's voice Karin and Suigetsu quickly parted, as if all that romance had been a terrible mistake. "Am I interrupting something?"

"I knew there was a filthy pixie coming." Karin spat, adjusting her glasses. Her shirt was almost unbuttoned.

"There are rooms in here, you know. In case if you don't want being watched or being disturbed."

"What are you doing here?" Suigetsu asked gently. Zabuza's blade sat on a chair next to him, untouched.

"I'm looking for Sasuke." Said Hotaru. There was a sharp iciness in her voice again, as if Sasuke were a little boy who had been dropping out of school. "Where is he?"

"Why you little—" Karin pointed a finger at her, making Hotaru cross her arms. Suigetsu held her wrist before she could react. "Calm down, you're making a scene." Karin stared back at Hotaru with so much hate, and sat down. "Ask one of your rooms."

Hotaru gasped morbidly. She used her vampiric sense to hear one of the room, and there were voices of Itachi's brother groaning and moaning. She thought of Sasuke and placed a hand to her forehead. Suigetsu and Karin seemed unsurprised with her expression, though, a little bit fond. They stared back in curiosity.

"Have you known this?"

Suigetsu scratched his head. "A little.."

"There was nothing we could have done, anyway." Karin said on behalf of her lover. But of course, as she had been throwing hserself in front of the raven, she was definitely not the girl he wanted. He wanted more, he wanted women with heat who had experienced the unbearable pain he had. Earlier she watched, as a woman danced in front of Sasuke with stunning blue-green eyes. She was apparently a regular, and so was the Uchiha. She had some wounds she had kept to herself though, scars in her back, just as Sasuke always wanted.

Everyday had turned out to be like this, not the dancing and the bedding part—but as Sasuke would shred a waste in his life and come back every night, a drink in his hand. Sometimes it was because of him that a riot woud usually start with, but the owners could not abandon him. He was the richest traveler in town who could give them gold and entertainment. And most charming, Karin wanted to add.

"He asked you to watch guard, didn't he?" 

"He always does." Said Karin. 

There was nothing more Hotaru could say. All her protection was by means no effect to Sasuke's wretchedness, and wherever road he could have gone into, there would always be someone to look after him, three unlikely people whose loyalty could not be questioned. "My work is done. See to it you'll get him out of trouble." It was not easy trusting any part of the Politics nowadays—Sasuke's head would cost a hundred worth than the lipgloss of Mei Terumi's lips. "You'll do that, right?" 

Karin casted a considering look, as if she was not willing to do any favors from some woman after her Uchiha bear. "We'll see what we can do." Hotaru gave the two of them a nod, and quickly vanished into the swaying concourse. 

Hotaru thanked herself for wearing her formal clothes—gold, glittering tube and the most comfortable leggings she had worn were her outfit for the night. Most slippery and flexible than she was, she decided to hang her Akatsuki robe into a rack. She went back into the middle despite her unfortunate height, and went to find Kisame. She saw him, poked a finger into his waist by means of tickling him. She laughed, as Kisame offered to get her a drink. She did not think of returning to the Akatsuki for a bit. There was something fun and unusual about Requiem she loved the most—freedom of expression, how violence to them was depicted as beautiful and universal. 

Maybe she was not born to avenge her clan at all, maybe she was reborn for something else. A place where many people like her, have been disowned by their villagers. Hotaru then immediately thought of Gaara, the rich redness of his hair. They parted very awfully, and Hotaru envisioned that as immortals perhaps she should not be surprised that this was the fate handed to them—people come and go, they would not be missed. Gaara could not remember her. It was painful even if she would try visiting him. 

When things have gone well between Gaara and Hotaru, there was a greenhouse located in Suna near the Sand Aviary, where messages delivered by the hawks were picked up by Takumo and the jonins. Hotaru liked the greenhouse. It was not only because of the twitting birds and the breeze that smelled forest and wind, but there was something about the loveliness of nature that Hotaru found it hospitable enough. Gaara caught her in there, at one point she was missing from his office where she was told to stay by Temari—and being an indecorous person she was—the state of rural had been a home to her that she could say she missed it, missed being a bird herself. 

Kisame had come back, his weapon no longer in his possession but two delicious champagne glasses—one was blue, the other was fixed with red—blood, she inhaled. "The drink's on me. Since you're pregnant, only blood for you." 

"Geez, that's cool." Hotaru said, as she grabbed her glass and straightened it. Kisame watched her with a vigorous look of entertainment—if Obito would see her like this, or perhaps any other people who have known her before—Deidara, Hidan, Konan, they'd lose control. 

"Tastes good, right?" Kisame said. "I've tried cannibalism before, though it was three years ago. That's quite a record." 

Hotaru managed to smiled despite the sourness in her liquor—she'd never tasted blood before due to her capacity to consume any appetite because of her pure immortality when she was born, not the dark curse she had acheived from surviving Kabuto's experiment. 

The next phases were much more daring and quite unimanigable. Someone had been dancing with her, a cute boy with shoulder tattoos and an ear piercing. Kisame was quite away from her, dancing with a blue-highlighted haired girl, their hips swaying. Hotaru waved a hand to him as she wiggled her hair and raised her hands up, the party owners surrounding them in a deep mist of a blue fog. 

The boy seemed interested in her, as if he had found himself a new partner ready in commitment of a murder, treason, something highly invalid. "You're not from around here, are you?" He still had one of those accents like Kiba and Naruto, who always spoke with mild determination and blandishment that could catch up a girl really quick. 

"Oh, I'm pregnant. I'm about to become a mother." Hotaru said, watching the boy raise a thin brow. In most bitchy women they'd probably hide this, hide their pain with raving and drinking (which might as well abort the baby), but Hotaru embraced the fact with a warm smile. 

"Cool." The boy nodded his head slowly. "How many months are you now—if you don't mind me asking." Hotaru remembered one time when she was at the Sand jail, and she purposedly slept due to the fact that Temari was up all night, standing guard. Going out doesn't make you a bad person, just like going to church doesn't make you a good person. And here she was, hanging out with a clever gentle man who differed from the hundreds of people in the Requiem. 

"You're not gonna freak out?" Hotaru asked, staring.

"Why would I? My mother's a cocksucker. There's seventeen of us." Oh. Not that real different. "I'm used at people judging and knocking me down. They don't know a thing about me. I steal from the rich, sometimes kill them if I want, and give it to the poor. To my little bros." At the sound of his voice he seemed young, rarely twenty, but he was young when a terrible crisis happened to him—his siblings multipled, ending up catching the burden of which her mother afflicted. 

The boy was blonde and had a beard—blonde was not Hotaru's color but they were the rays of golden sunshine, almost similar to hers. "So what about you, stranger? Had a fight with that kid's daddy? You sure are talented to be here."  He said against her ear.

"I'm a vampire," Hotaru yelled louder for the boy to hear, "I do bloody things with crazy bad people." But she was crazy, and she knew good and faithful people like the boy whom she was dancing would reject the theory of a mad girl, and he laughed.

"I like that. You should hang around here more often. This place gets better and nastier." He said as a tip.

"I think I'm starting to like it in here." She giggled, as a waitress walked through the messy jungle-like animals with a smirk in her face, wearing a cream vintage dress, as if she had been a wife of a pirate. Hotaru grabbed a drink from the tray she was carrying, and never mind whatever junk was stalled on it. 

"You shouldn't be drinking," The boy smirked. 

"I don't even know you." Hotaru said, speaking in a way she wanted to be taught with proper manners like a child—same as Chiruka. 

"Then let's keep it that way." The boy said, and raised a finger to the beautiful waitress who now carried dozen of tall wine glasses and a bottle of Sake. He handed one to Hotaru, once the fairy-nin had straightened her first beer. "When you come back here, remember the first boy who didn't turn his back on you when he discovered your secret." He smiled. It was a faint smile, a parting glance that somehow, he knew conversation like these would not last. 

Hotaru stared at her drink first, and then to the anonymous boy. She remembered her grannies talked of how talking to strangers would send you crumbling deep down beneathe the holes of the earth, and never came back up. She was not dizzy when she spoke her next sentence. "You're the first ever boy who took a dance with me." 

"That was quite a number, but we have the entire night, haven't we? Let's not make things last accordingly. It's just midnight." 

Just midnight, Hotaru smiled, and fought the urge to stare at her clock. Her watch, one she had stolden from Kabuto's collection. She thought of Kisame who was her sole companion and source of transportation (he had to make a portal out of the rivers as they were swimming in order to get to the Sound). He could be dancing right now, forgetting the time. He had given up his weapon or somehow vanished it into the thin nighty air. What more could decieve people nowadays. if not the drinking and the house parties and premarital sex? 

She smiled as she took her champagne neatly, and glared once again upon the indigo-colored sake distrustfully. Humans nowadays use some kind of a color powder like what they often do with a chick to sell them on a high price occassionally. Hotaru had instantly known by that time that something far-fetched was in the air. 

Hotaru hesitated to glance at her surroundings, but felt an eerie bend of slow-motioned chakra kind of spell that filtered the ozone. A cold, unlikely moisture wrapped them like the snow. Unsure she was, as much as the boy standing in front of her that could know less, her heart panicked. She gazed towards the unending party, the quietly untrudged rooms, the Sake that never ran out. "To pregnancy," said the boy, as they drank. 

By the time Hotaru was finished with her drank, she wanted to crash the glass into the ground, but her instincts told her not to make a mess. It was in fact tempting, to do vaguely weird stuffs on an unlocal festivity where in all people are atrophied. 

The next thing Hotaru knew was that a kunai shot through the bartender's rack, targeting a hundred-buck of Rum and Vodka. It spilled into heavenly red and blue waterfall as the kunai sounded almost like a singing harmony that dwelled on Hotaru's eyes, yanking her. It drew people in silence, then chaos. 

Someone was running from behind her, though, Karin. She was warning her that a lot of Shinobi were on their way inside Requiem, and more would be approaching. To the people they looked utterly surprised as if this had not been a routine—getting caught by ninjas, forcedly being dismissed and sent home—or be charged with disturbance. These criminals have nowhere to go, anyways.

"We have to leave," said a downward voice. At first Hotaru thought it was the stranger boy, but she turned around to see a bowed-down blue-skinned man who held the Samehada fiercely and lowly. "Now." 

"Wait, they're after something." Hotaru fought back, staring back at the intruders. They were Sand villagers, and from the looks of them Hotaru thought of a thousand-kilometer dash they have ventured, on a pursuit of something—someone in particular. Hotaru's gasp was covered by Kisame's hand, and it smelled with alchohol and pure water. There was only one reason why a bunch of highly-ranked Shinobi persevered there. Their headbands glittered in the neon lights, and the commander-in-chief seemed merely insulted and unimpressed. All elders looked to it that way. 

"We're looking for a certain Akatsuki member here." Said the bald-headed commander, with a cloth-like handcerchief that covered half of his face, as if there was a scar in it. Hotaru recognized the man. He was one of Gaara's most trusted conductors, and he will get him what he want—"there are rumors spreading from tiny villagers that this is the place where mostly criminals have their little catching-up party. This is not a threat. We simply want you to hand over what we need, and none of you will be arrested." The man closed his eyes, walking finely with his shoulders squared, not a muscle tensed. When he opened them, Hotaru saw how truly one man could be devoted to one's village. "Hand over Sasuke Uchiha." 

From clattering and rambunctious music the crowd descended into a whisper, as if one word could have their tongues slit from their throats. None of them dared a word to the leader, though harmful menacing glances were exchanged. 

Hotaru was worried. She realized she was missing her cloak, and that she left it hanging on one of those racks. Hotaru glanced back towards the door and saw, the large portion of water climbing by it, and dropped it into the floor while the commander was delivering his speech—Suigetsu.  

The commander was mocked, again, and replaced his stern expression with something delightful. "Who owns this place?" 

"I do." Someone took a step forward, and to everyone's eureka it had been the bartender. He had tattoos too, but he was thinner and wore less uncivil garments unlike the others Hotaru suspected that would have been handling the bar for endless nights. "He ain't here. If he was, we would have kicked him out. This place ain't for solid criminals, ya know. It's for people like us who're starvin' for a drink and have nowhere to go home to." 

"This is hell." Suigetsu muttered, as he got back with sweat literally pouring around his whole body. He always had a racked nerve. He handed Hotaru her cloak, and Hotaru folded it as she did to Kisame's, and placed them on Samehada's mouth like a secret vault with an empty combination. 

"Why are they protecting him?" Hotaru asked curiously, her head down. Almost all of them were standing, but a few of them especially with their identities not to be sparked have had to be invisible. 

No one answered her, which made Hotaru realize that was how it felt when people heard you and yet they did not seem to care. Maybe she should buy a magic 8 ball for herself to have a nice talking company. 

"I see. If you might as well stand useless, then shall we have you shipped into the Demon Desert so the scorpions will feed on you during supper." 

"That's unfair! You are all mad!" Shouted a thirty-year-old mob.

"We haven't even seen him!" Said another, raising a closed-fist hand. 

The commander arched his brows and turned his head on another. Hotaru was short, and she could not remember any moment she found her height deliberately irksome and unfunny. "They are hiding him, my Lord. We have our witnesses who have just stood undercover by north." And there came a man with a rough-edged voice, as if he had swallowed an entire grain of sand and choked upon it. 

"Then we will have our witnesses here." Gaara said, his arms crossed deathly as usual whenever he would come across something inconvenient. He did not change either, his eyeliner on point. His eyes were closed, but Hotaru perfectly memorized the color and shape of those:blue green, like an enchanted fairy lake thousands of years ago. He opened them, and it sent a huge shockwave into Hotaru, as if she had been drowning. "Check the doors. Search every room with an Uchiha crest. Do not stop until you find him." He said, and Hotaru recalled one of those horror events Gaara had encountered with a powerful rival and shared them to her, while Hotaru felt as if every men she had ever met were all connected. "I need to speak with this matter myself." 

...

"You didn't see me. You never met me. You were just waiting for your performer but it never arrived so you slept." Sasuke said, his red eye shifting from ordinary three-tomoed Sharingan to Mangekyo ones. But that was the special part of compulsion; as much as he felt it consuming, bleeding, it was pleasant. 

The girl nodded, her hands clenched with the sheets that not only covered her naked chest but as the rest of her body itself. She had brown hair, full bangs, and from her stories she told Sasuke that she had once robbed a Leaf villager with a silver hair. That was the exact tale Sasuke needed—and this one was different from the other night. She had scars, yes, but she had a birthmark, too. On her back, were endless marks and rythym of spanks her father had done to her, so she could behave. 

Sasuke was reminded of Fugaku by this, and thought abruptly: what was the point of punishing someone when they were already punishing themselves? He stared at the woman with a look that he was done, and made her realize that not anything truthfully lasted and she was nothing but a fun game to Sasuke—an entertainment. Sex was pretty much something to keep him preoccupied.

It felt good, it felt healthy. He felt weaker by the hands who have touched his, clawed his back, but it was more than he really wished for on an entire vacation he needed from Obito. He had far too many enemies and thought of simply escaping them by living a life in the dark and wild, where no one could possibly have seen of him—where no one believed in his dignity and reputation. Sasuke had lived a life of damnation and he wanted to end it all, wanted to start with something new and lively. The women were fantastic. Bad pernicious women. 

The woman, whom he had forgotten by name, did not say a word any longer. Her face was red, and her cheeks were still flushed as if meeting an Uchiha would be entering the gates of hell, but she pursued heaven. Obito always mocked him upon restoring the Uchiha clan, and if this is what he wanted—for him to vanish in his sight forever and rebuild his clan—his revenge had gotten sweeter. 

He slid his kusanagi in his back, and teleported by the glass-slid windows, the same way he did when he had surprisingly stood behind Haruno Sakura's back. He leapt outside, his knee bending, and stood up. There was a signal of him leaving, and that was when he would whistle upon Hayate (a name Sakura gave to the falcon) and suddenly his three tiresome minsions would be there, hence they would be left. 

On exactly two seconds, three odd figures loomed in his behind—a red-headed girl, a white-haired skinny man and a man who reminded Sasuke of one of the Akatsuki's leaders—Pein, who towered them all with a peaceful look. Whenever Sasuke was up to something, Jugo was never away, and when his enemies have reached nearer, he would battle in the front and take advantage on his curse to save him. To save a boy he was left being reminded of Kimimaro and the things he did. 

Sasuke stared at the three of them, then to Jugo. But that was the point of love, nomatter how worthy it was to protect someone from the course of evil, it would always find its way to torment you. One of these days it would be Jugo's downfall, and Sasuke never mentioned anything to him yet, but he could not say he did not warn him when he took the risk of joining Taka in the first place. 

 ☤ τhε τhïɾḋ υсhïhα ☤

SING FOR THE DEAD

Ino loved the color of dawn. It always occured to her that day was more lovelier than night, despite she was weaker by the sun. It was simple—when the dawn arrives, there is a magnetic orange spring of watermellon peach and all that bright shadings. Once, she asked Sai to paint her the Leaf with the most precious colors of daybreak. Sai knocked onto her door three days later, and brought a square portrait to her as she ran into his arms and kissed him in the cheek.

Those were the good old days she was still human. Now, she could only picture those memories far away, like she had transformed into something narcistic and man-eating that all of them had been a dream and this was the person she was once. 

She brushed a streak of Kiba's hair, that soft messy brunette. She was laying in his bare chest, and she felt his skin hard against her—as if every part of him always and ever will be. 

Ino smiled. He was gorgeous. He was attractive in a way he looked like a young prince of wolf who had come through space and energy, his eyes not serpent but they were brilliantly shaped naturally like that, wolfy and foxy. Ino wanted to touch him back in Yumegakure, but that would be rude when his girlfriend was still around. 

At the touch of her long lashes fluttering, Kiba instantly rubbed his eyes and placed an arm around her, shielding her from somewhat a possibility that anyone would try to steal her. 

"Kuso." He said. his eyes still closed. "What time is it already?" 

"Morning, handsome. You were surprisingly awesome last night." 

Kiba was covering his eyes. "Oh, son of a motherless goat. Ino, get dressed." 

"I am dressed." Ino said responsibly. "It's called a bra. And lingeries. It's so hot nowadays I just want to go out like a superhero. Why do superheroes wear less, anyway? It's not like they're going to model for Shinobi Portal." 

"I haven't watched cartoon in years." 

"You wanna watch?" Ino asked, finally disentangling from him. Ino had not done anything more difficult in her life than to detach herself from his dreamboy—though Ino reminded herself that all of this had been an infatuation. It was normal to Kiba and to herself, supposedly, but by the look on his eyes it was as if he did not even mind that she was half-naked or something. He just opened his beautiful eyes as if he were Adam and she was Eve, and at some point she was responsible for tempting him over his limits. "I'm kidding. I know what you're thinking. You're thinking about Hinata." 

Kiba smiled wickedly. Then again, they were friends, two psychotic people with psychotic heads who just thought that making love was the answer. "Please. If I had a vampiric hearing juju, I'd be suspicious. You were probably screaming Shika's name the whole time." 

"You know what? I finally realize why Hinata doesn't like you:you keep on bringing up the past." 

"I don't understand why Sasuke or Shika didn't just picked you. I want to kiss you right now, but unfortunately I live with a code since last night—my loyalty will always be Hinata, no one else." Said Kiba, staring at Ino amusement.

Ino was smiling as she stood up, gathering the clothes. That was another thing she liked tremendously about Kiba—unlike Shikamaru, he made her feel beautiful. He made her feel of her worth, that princesses should be treated more and all his words were plunged into that one hell of a night stand from about nine hours ago. They had seriously slept within nine and a half hours, and Ino could tell Kiba had no regrets. 

She tossed him his T-shirt and black coal pants. "Put on something, will you? If we're gonna stay here for long we won't be talking."

"I know." Kiba agreed, and quietly changed. Ino was at the bathroom when she was suited in her casual purple uniform. She was thankful for the earrings Asuma had given her, them, apparently, since it had been her weapon against the sun. Securing them with knew locks, Ino walked into the living room to see Kiba making a cup of tea. 

"So, did you compel her?" Kiba asked.

"Who?" Ino asked too, as if the word sounded new to her.

"Hinata." Kiba reminded, a little bit on the edge. He had the eyes of a wolf protecting a sleeping princess, as if Hinata was always in his grasp though he never felt it. She was not awakened by it. "Did you compel her to forget?" 

Ino grabbed a tea carefully from her counters as she looked at him, uncertain. Then she nodded and said yes. All came to her surprisingly like a birthday surprise—how the deal all served for her compelling Hinata to forget a single bit of kiss, a touch on that delirious night with him. To be frank, Ino was half-joking and halfly being a bitch that she just wanted to meddle someone with. She wanted to feel alive for a moment, and Kiba was her answer.

She felt romance. She had found that love she searched, apart from the love and silk Inoichi and her mother had wrapped her with. They were barely home, and it seemed like Politics was more important to them than their daughter's happiness. What could simply become of her, a vampire with no guardian?

That was when Hinata came in. While they were close at crossing in the line that Kiba had to pause and stop, he told her that the deal was made—she would not make Hinata remember that she even went to him in the first place. It was fearful, but Kiba was sure of it. The way he spoke in careful selflessness meant that he loved Hinata the day he had wrapped his hands around her and felt more than okay. It was envy and joy to Ino, that somehow, men like Kiba managed to find love despite the harsh cruel times.

The conflict started as Ino went to the Inuzuka mansion and Hinata was never there. She left, her footsprings echoing in her ear that explained to her in more than metamorphic words—she did not want to be found. She did not want to be fixed. What were memories for, if not being the best grip towards your humanity? If not stripping Hinata's memories with Kiba would build a stronger communication between them both, so be it. 

Their silence was interrupted by a long, harmonious ring tone. Kiba clasped for his hands in his pockets as he took his phone out, and leaned his elbows against Ino's kitchen counter. "Hello?" 

"I'm off to some mission with TenTen. Do watch over Hinata and keep her safe. If you fail for the second time, I will not hesitate to kill you." A casual Neji's voice said, while Ino used her vampiric sense upon this.

"Well said, but you have to know, Nej, my nose is not bleeding with your words anymore. Somehow I have finally managed to not be scared of anything you particularly say. You sound like Hiashi, to be honest." 

"You sound enterprising. I suppose something must have been going out tenderly for you quite these days... I wonder that could be."

Kiba halted for a moment, as if wondering if the Byakugan could sense one's heartrate. Kiba was chilling, his adrenaline rushing remembering Neji was a bit of a dragon perhaps more thoroughly than Hiashi—and, like Naruto, they would not be pleased to find out he had been sleeping with Hinata. 

"It was just a simple thought. Leaf people nowadays get so boring. I say pissing them off is gonna be legen.. wait for it.. dary!" Kiba said. "Speaking of legendary, how is Hinata?" 

"In her chambers as I've recalled, but now she had just passed by TenTen." Said Neji. "Would you like to speak to her?" 

Ino was making one of her hilarious faces to Kiba, making unexplainable gestures in front of him. Go on, go on! Her language said. Kiba was stunned, knowingly he had to make an earlier decision. Neji was never the patient type and so would be the uncatchable opportunity. Kiba had already thought of Hinata over the day, what could she be doing, what other modest things were amusing her. Neji was already handing the phone to her by the time Kiba was still left deciding. 

"Hello?" Asked a worried voice. 

"Ask her something personal!" Coached Ino. 

Kiba's eyes seemed to glitter at Hinata's voice. He was shaking his head, and to Ino she thought of how things must have gone awkwardly between the two of them—Kiba trying to pull himself together just to say hi to the girl whom Ino failed to compel, and worse was both of them were fooling each other. The catch was which lies could be worth deceiving. 

Kiba breathed heavily. He inhaled and exhaled, inhaling a lovely breath of oxygen. He said—"what age did you start having your period?" 

"Are y-you asking me what age did I start having m-my period?" 

"Baka," Ino exclaimed. "What does that even mean?" 

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have called." Kiba remarked, and had done with the phone. He threw the phone into the couch, saying, "it's all my fault." 

Ino sank into the couch. "Kiba, it wasn't your fault. Can you blame yourself if you're in love with her?" She was softly patting his back, while Kiba was rubbing his hands in his forehead. She was reminded of the day she was nudging Shikamaru with Temari and told him they would look perfect together. Ino did not think she would make a compliant liar. It's not your fault if it's Temari you like. I swear, it took the crap out of me to get over with Sasuke. 

"She's different from other girls, Ino. I can't stop thinking about her." 

Ino suddenly lost interest and grabbed a magazing from under the table. She decided what Kiba needed was something to end his troubled dismeanors. "Go on, let it all out. I'm here for you, dude." 

"I sent her a text message once." Kiba smiled. His dimple was delicious. "I was drunk—I always was. I could still remember what I sent to her on my birthday: I sent an angel to look after you. 10 Minutes later, the angel came back to me and told me—"angels don't look after angels!"—good night, Hinata." 

"Wow, Kiba. I never thought you were a poet." 

"She was with Naruto the other day. The worst part of loving someone is when they are happy with someone else. You know what I'm talking about, right? Shika." 

"Shut up." Ino detested. 

"Best friends, huh? I don't know which part should you feel sorry for yourself. Nomatter how many times you have each other backs, that's the closest thing you can ever get." Kiba said, his brown eyes blazing in sympathy. Sympathy for himself or to Ino, it did not matter. He was sitting on her couch, unaware of the time revolving around them. He mentioned that there was a cattle call between Team Sakura, last night after they made love. It was so gentle of him, how he had carried her into her own bed despite they were not in a relationship or anything. Maybe that was why no girl ever rejected him. 

A tiresome Shikamaru crossed her mind. She did not know why or how he ever got into his head but maybe it was because that sleeping with Kiba was a sign of betrayal. She seemed worried though, Shikamaru had been acting weird lately... She had seen him in his bright days and would notice if something had gone wrong, if something was definitely wrong with his health. If ever something went by his blood, Shikamaru's laziness would get in his way and a checkup was never scheduled. It was a fear she had not yet settled since he was Temari's property, and being someone else's best friend made her feel like she should get a cool distance. 

She could go to him, or to Tsunade to have a follow up of his condition. But she was just moving on, at the state of getting over someone that brought devastation to her heart. Shikamaru really did bring an anchor to her. She thought becoming a vampire would shut off your humanity. She thought she had no heart, she thought vengeance for Sakura was all needed. All along she had been hungering was a love she could never touch. 

One day, Ino thought positively, they would see each other again soon. In the future, where the stories are unending. They would be older and wiser, even though the memories have faded they would always find their way to trace them back. War was the stench in the air, and it could not be extinguished. She may not even talk to her best friend before war starts. 

Ino cooked lunch for Kiba. Despite both of their lack of cooking knowledge, they managed to pull through their famished stomachs. This was not the last time they have talked. Kiba might be the closest best friend she had earned after the day, and their souls were lifted as the day ended. The last word Ino entrusted to him were: "Go get her for me." 

Kiba left. This left her with her ego self, and Ino must not have noticed her cellphone placed in her pocket. She took it out, unaware of the recent mail. It was Sakura. 

Carefully, Ino opened her email. 

It was a good thing Kiba was already gone. Very slowly a tear rolled from her eye, and then another. She read Sakura's words as if she were back on her child self, a little girl reading fairytales. Sakura's message was no fiction, and Ino could still picture an image of her pregnant best friend—in her own house, alone. Ino cupped a hand to her mouth to prevent herself from sulking out loud. 

She may have lost Shikamaru, but never did Sakura push away from her. Ino decided quickly—the next steps she was about to do was one of the most unsavage things she promised not to do—going to Sakura's house, apologizing. She wiped the tears off and dressed up.

On her way to Sakura's house, she felt a strange grody ooze of chakra though. Her sharp senses came back to her, as she stared back into Sakura's garden. Nothing. She was holding a wooden basket filled with fruits and other sweeties suited for a pregnant girl. If she would never become a mom, she thought Sakura would be the best of them. 

She had knocked into Sakura's door. Naruto answered it, a suspicious look in his eyes. After some time a pink-haired girl who had not grown tall came hugging her, and Ino dropped the basket. They were embracing each other, until Naruto decided to come back inside once they were done with their bffs reunion, biting an apple Ino brought. 

******************************************************************************

edited 4.11.15

honestly this was long wow 

things are getting so intensed and yay!!!!