Naruto Fan Fiction ❯ Rosemary For Remembrance ❯ Monkshood ( Chapter 9 )

Chapter 9 - Monkshood

 

When sorrows come, they come not single spies but in battalions. - William Shakespeare, Hamlet

 

Two more years and two more dead babies. Supposedly a person can get used to anything. Kidnapping victims can come to love their abductors; prisoners can compose amazing poetry while confined to a 6x10 cell; nin with amputated limbs can go back into the field. Even a goldfish's size will adapt to the size of its bowl.

 

But as long as she lived, Hinata thought, she would never get used to losing her babies.

 

Though they never spoke of it, it was with Naruto's tacit accord that Hinata began taking the pills that would prevent conception. She did not rely on her herbs. In that one respect, the herbs had failed her mother, too. Hinata did not allow herself to think about how her life might have turned out if they had not.

 

The subject of children soon became taboo between Hinata and Naruto, just like Hanabi and her doings in the Hyuga compound, or Uchiha Sasuke, or where Naruto went on the nights that Hinata woke up in bed alone.

 

Once the perpetual boy, Naruto now looked older, almost haggard, and when she bothered to look in the mirror at all, Hinata noticed strands of silver in her own hair. They were only twenty-seven.

 

Some would say twenty-seven is an enviable lifespan for an active shinobi. The Uzumakis had, of course, attended their share of shinobi funerals over the years. And with her work at the hospital she was always in close proximity to death. She had kissed Aburame Shino's lips for the second and final time in her life after the orderly washed the blood from his still face. And she had observed her cousin Neji, posture rigid, as he bore the urn carrying the ashes of his genin teammate, Rock Lee, to the shinobi cemetery.

 

Hinata had always held a special place in her heart for her cousin. Something undefined and indefinable. Maybe it was admiration for the boy who would fight, and fight and fight. Maybe it was because, as everyone grows older - and Hinata felt infinitely old - they come to appreciate the people who knew them when they were very young. Or maybe it was because of what she had seen on his face in his bedroom on the day of her wedding. Sometimes, in bed alone at night, she would take comfort in what she had learned that day. They never spoke of it, of course, and she knew they never would.

 

()()()()()

 

Neji saw Hinata very little now that she was married and living away from the compound. With her gone, he had considered moving into the village himself, but before he could take the time off to find a place, Hanabi decreed that no Hyuga was allowed to live outside the compound. Before Hanabi, he could have done worse for a place to live. The dormitory he inhabited, though nearly devoid of personal objects, was cleaned on Fridays, and they fed him. It was not as if he spent much time there. Lately, he viewed the world through the slits of his ANBU mask more often than not. Still, with the most fundamental choice taken away from him in early childhood, the smaller choices came to matter more. And with the new stricture, the Hyuga compound began to feel more and more like a prison.

 

His dormitory room did overlook the Nakano River, though. Through his single window, he could see the rows of cheap houses that some greedy soul had put up precariously near the floodplain. He could pick out Hinata's house because hers was the only one in that drab little neighborhood that had flowers in the window boxes. It was a distant blur though. Only if he activated his Byakugan, could he see his cousin's comings and goings.

 

He never did. That trap would be too easy to fall into. Self-control was something he had always prided himself on, and something that was always in short supply around Hinata. He put a heavy shade on the window instead. It soon began to collect dust.

 

()()()()()

 

Hanabi married a boy from an old Grass Country family. Saito Katsuro was not a shinobi, had had no special abilities, and anything that came out of his mouth was dull, to say the least. But he was handsome, and malleable, and his presence got the Council off her back in regards to finding a husband and carrying on the Hyuga line. It was much easier to get her way, she had found, when the Council thought she was listening to their instructions. They had even approved her orders for many of Hyuga's finest shinobi to resign their commissions and spend their days on Clan business instead.

 

“They grow weak and disloyal to the family,” she had claimed. What she had not said was that she thought the Council members before her the weakest of all.

 

But there would be time yet. Hanabi was young and Hyuga was old, and she not was stupid enough to think that she could make changes over night. And nevermind the shinobi who had refused to leave the Hokage's employ. They would be dealt with. Just not quite yet.

 

Yes, the Council was happy. Times were peaceful; thanks to Saito, the Clan coffers were strong, and their leader was married and beautiful and young. If she used the cursed jinjutsu a bit too often to punish, perhaps that was warranted. Hadn't Hiashi been slow to activate the curse? And wasn't it true that the family had grown weak and fragmented under his leadership? What about Hinata? An unmarked black sheep had been allowed to leave them. A danger to the whole clan had slipped through Hiashi's fingers.

 

When someone brought the subject of Hinata up in Council, Hanabi would smile sweetly and declare that she meant to honor her father's wishes in that regard.

 

“I will leave the matter the way it is as long as I can,” she would assert. “But if war comes again, she could endanger every one of us. We're Hyuga,” she had concluded. “We do what must be done. If I had to cut off my arm for the good of the Clan, I would do it without hesitation. Individuals must sacrifice for the good of the group. That is what makes us strong.”

 

Except for Neji, they had all applauded her speech.

 

Fools.

 

()()()()()

 

That night Neji was visibly uncomfortable, standing there alone with her in her private chamber. His perfectly erect posture and carefully blank expression was so much like her father that it made her want to close her eyes. Or to activate her Byakugan - to dissect Neji down to individual parts, joints and muscles, and chakra coils.

 

She ran her tongue along the edge of her teeth.

 

“Good evening, Neji-niisan,” she began.

 

He bowed again and his hair fell over the curve of his neck. Supplication became him.

 

“Hyuga-sama.”

 

“It's always Hanabi-sama to you, Neji-niisan,” she corrected, smiling. He hadn't moved from the door way, so she came to him, circling just out of arms reach, never taking her eyes off of his. He stood soldier-perfect again, staring straight ahead. Not a muscle twitched. He had always had such fine, fine self-control.

 

She had spent hours planning out an explanation before she called him to her, only to realize with a euphoric kind of clarity that there was no need to offer him one.

 

“I need an heir. I've chosen you,” she told him succinctly.

 

For a split second he did not breathe. She considered that a personal victory.

 

Until he responded.

 

“No.”

 

She turned to face him full-on for the first time.

 

“You have no choice!” And she cursed herself because her voice sounded young and reedy in her own ears. Eager. She realized she had brought her hands together subconsciously, ready to activate the cursed jinjutsu. His eyes took her all in, her hands and her face.

 

“I do,” he said, his voice impassive. “A woman can't force a man to father her child, Hanabi-sama.”

 

She ran her tongue over her teeth again. She felt the wide smile stretch her cheeks.

 

“Not true, niisan. Not true.”

 

She saw him stiffen. She thought he would turn on his heel and try to leave, but he did not. He had been bred for too many long years to wait for permission to leave. Trained like a puppy.

 

She had been circling again. She stopped, just out of his lunging reach, keeping her hands clasped. It would take less than a split second to activate the cursed jinjutsu and she imagined she could smell the fear radiating off him like a night blooming flower.

 

Smart. Her father had been so smart to raise Neji with nothing but his dignity. Because it was the simplest thing for them to take from him and he clung to it like the lichens on the stones in the Nakano River.

 

“You've never brought a woman home to us, niisan,” she said lightly. She saw his eyes unfocus from her, saw him nearly imperceptibly relax into a soldier's stance. He was merely tolerating this. Merely tolerating her. This was not respect.

 

“As far as I know, you've never even looked for a woman.” She wanted to whisper these words in his ear, but did not dare get that close to him. If he managed to pin her wrists he could do real damage before she could stop him. Would he lose that impassive look in his eyes? She felt her stomach tighten at the thought.

 

“You've never even looked for a woman,” she repeated. “Because you've already found one. You'll never marry, because the one you love is already married.” She lowered her voice, an old trick that forced an audience to listen closely. “Yours are not the only eyes that see everything, Neji-niisan.”

 

He remained perfectly still but, somehow, through some trick of his posture, she knew he was afraid now. She fancied she could hear the sweat sliding down his palms.

 

“Unsealed, my sister is a danger to the whole village,” she said, in a new tone of voice.

 

As if she had actually changed the subject.

 

Hanabi met Neji's eyes again, satisfied that - this time - she had his complete attention.

 

“Hinata would be safer in a cage. Don't you agree niisan?”

 

His body was suddenly all tense lines, thrumming with energy. He seemed bigger suddenly, seemed to fill the room.

 

She opened her mouth, ready to remind him that he would give her an heir when he took the words from her mouth.

 

“I will do as you request, Hanabi-sama.”

 

Her knees suddenly felt as weak as if she had just completed twelve straight hours of training.

 

“Very well, then.” She ran her tongue along the edge of her teeth again. “Very well.”

 

And they were standing there, alone in her private chambers with a task ahead of them.

 

“Then undress,” she commanded imperiously.

 

He waited a split-second too long before complying. For a long instant, he merely stared at her. And then, his eyes never leaving hers, he reached up and untied the knot of his hitai-ate, leaving the band that held his hair back. The cursed seal was vivid against his pale forehead.

 

He folded the cloth slowly, careful to protect the metal face plate. When it was bundled into a neat little package he merely stood there holding it by his side.

 

Hanabi gestured impatiently. “You can put that on my dressing table.”

 

He sat the cloth where she had designated without acknowledging her. His uniform vest came off next. He sat it on her dressing table stool without asking for permission. Then the shirt came over his head. She drank in the sight of the black cloth rising up to expose his pale stomach and chest. The shirt off, he reached back and adjusted his mane of hair. It ended up in a twist over his left shoulder. The carefully folded garment went on top of the vest.

 

He unwound the bandages from his right arm then bent down to do the same to the cloth around his calves. She could have offered him a seat to make his job easier, but she didn't. He rolled the bandages in a ball and deposited them beside his hitai-ate. He kept his eyes on hers the whole time.

 

Neji didn't hesitate at the button of the black pants. Maybe he sensed that any pause would make her anticipate it more. That it would make this more like a striptease than a perfunctory step in completing their mission.

 

He pulled the pants down over his hips mechanically, and then he was only wearing black boxer shorts. Then those were gone. He had obeyed her command fully.

 

Hanabi scrutinized his body. Creating a child with him would certainly not be a hardship.

 

Fucking him would be even better.

 

He would be the finest looking man she had ever been with. He was the finest looking man alive, now that her father was dead.

 

She pulled her own shirt over her head. She thought she ought to command him not to stare at her so openly as she undressed, but decided against it. They certainly weren't going to get any conceiving done if his penis remained a lifeless lump between his legs. She scowled inwardly, unhappy to see that his condition did not change when she slowly unbound the bandages that covered her breasts. In fact, he looked rather bored with the whole affair. She reminded herself that this was not meant to be a seduction.

 

Hanabi didn't bother to fold her own clothes as they came off piece by piece.

 

Naked, she sat on the edge of her bed. She beckoned for him to sit beside her and he complied, staying far enough away that their naked thighs did not touch.

 

He was still annoyingly flaccid.

 

“You need to… prepare yourself,” she said.

 

Neji stared at the opposite wall, avoiding their reflections in her dressing table mirror. She noted that he would not look down and imagined that that was a point of pride with him, keeping his head held high. Even on the feather soft bed, he sat with his back very straight.

 

“And do you command me to do that?” he asked. He could have been offering a mission report.

 

Hanabi ran her tongue along her teeth again, thinking. She smiled widely at her conclusion.

 

“Maybe I can help. I know. Since my body doesn't please you, you can pretend I'm someone else. Would that help…?” She leaned away from him so that she could get a better look at his face. “...N-n-niisan?”

 

When he lifted her roughly off the bed, Hanabi felt her neck snap back so far that her loose hair tickled her shoulder blades.

 

He had her arms pinned behind her before she could even begin to activate the cursed seal. His large hands encircled her slender wrists, completely immobilizing her fingers. They stood together now at the edge of the bed, chest to chest. She felt him squirm away from touching her, but he didn't dare push her too far away for fear of losing his leverage.

 

He had her, but he didn't seem to know what to do with her now. She writhed against the harsh grip and then discovered something that delighted her.

 

His cock was a hard presence against her stomach now.

 

“Is this how you like it, niisan?” she murmured. She saw him swallow. He was looking down his nose at her now. She pressed herself farther against him, not caring that it wrenched her shoulders. He was actually shaking.

 

There was no way she could extricate herself from his grip on her wrists. Not physically.

 

“What are you going to do?” she asked, arching an eyebrow. She realized then that she was breathing heavily, her face felt flushed. She smiled into his impassive face again anyway. “You can't hold my hands behind my back forever, niisan.

 

“I won't use the jinjutsu if you just do it. Give me an heir and you won't be in trouble.” This close to him, he smelled so masculine. Wild. She could taste his musk on her tongue. “But if you don't, you had better kill me while you have me.”

 

She saw him hesitate, visibly saw him relax as he made his decision. Like a hanged man who had just had the hood slipped over his head.

 

“I hope I do give you an heir,” he said quietly. “And I hope it kills you.”

 

Hanabi resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

 

“First things first, then, Neji-niisan.” She writhed against him again and he pulled back sharply. “Let go of my hands. I wouldn't hurt you now. You wouldn't be able to perform.” She added, “This is just as distasteful to me as it is to you.”

 

She thought he might have made a barely audible sound in his throat, but she could not be certain.

 

He let her go reluctantly and Hanabi massaged her wrists. They would bruise. She found the pain somewhat comforting.

 

He merely stood there, so she was the one to lie back on the bed.

 

Neji followed her, climbing on top of her without preamble. He did not look at her and he positioned himself on his hands in an awkward pushup. He really wasn't going to touch her any more than necessary.

 

He hesitated then.

 

“Should I do it now?” he asked a bit waspishly.

 

“Do it,” she commanded.

 

He still hesitated over her, though. She felt him pressing hard against her thigh; all he would have to do would be to adjust the angle and he would be inside her. She looked up at him and he was looking down into her face. For some reason she had expected him to turn away. Again she marveled at how much he resembled her father. She felt her thighs grow warm where his pelvis aligned with hers.

 

“I can't do it this way,” he said abruptly, and he scooted up onto his knees above her. She lay there for a few seconds, watching him loom over her.

 

“I can't look at you.”

 

Hanabi's fingers twitched. Her hands were free now; it would be so simple to activate the cursed jinjutsu. She wandered briefly what it would be like to activate the curse while he was inside her. His last seizure, on the day of Hinata's wedding, had been quite violent…

 

“Very well,” she decided, and turned over onto her own knees. She felt him press behind her again, felt him position his cock at her entrance.

 

“Now?” he asked again.

 

“Now,” she agreed.

 

He thrust inside her with no further equivocation. She rocked her hips back to meet him and he caught her hipbones in a hard grip.

 

“Hold still,” he ground out.

 

Hanabi turned her head so that she could see him over her shoulder. She wished she had made him take his hair down now. She would have liked to have seen it streaming over his chest as he fucked her.

 

“It doesn't have to be so bad for you,” she said in a cajoling voice. “From here, you can pretend I'm her. We're sisters. This is the closest you'll ever get to fucking her, Neji.”

 

He was moving mechanically behind her, but she knew he listened.

 

“No one will ever know if you pretend I'm Hinata.”

 

He did not vary his speed or motions. She looked over her shoulder again and his face was set in hard lines. He was concentrating, but a thin bead of sweat at his brow belied the emotionless expression on his face.

 

Maybe it was inadvertent, but he thrust into her a bit harder. She jolted forward and felt the heat rise into her belly. Her bruised wrists tingled beneath her.

 

Inhaling - she never forgot what a vulnerable position she was in -- Hanabi forced her voice into a higher pitch.

 

“It feels good when you speed up like that,” she said quietly, in a close imitation of Hinata's voice.

 

“Don't, Hanabi-sama.” But his voice was choked. He still thrust shallowly inside her. She reared back to meet him, feeling his length slide along her inner walls.

 

“No one has to know, niisan.” A little breathy now. She was careful to keep her head down so that he wouldn't even spy her profile. “Just pretend. Just for tonight. And it doesn't have to be so unpleasant.”

 

She could hear him breathing now. Faster. He moved almost imperceptibly faster. For a moment she imagined she was Hinata and that he was in love with her.

 

“I've always wanted you to do this, niisan,” she said in Hinata's voice. “I've always wanted you to fuck me.” Then she squeezed, bearing down on his cock in a way men invariably found irresistible.

 

She heard him groan and she smiled, showing her teeth to no one. So much for that fine, fine self-control. She felt him pause behind her. His hands were huge gripping her slender hips.

 

“Don't stop,” she persisted. He moved again.

 

And just before he came inside her, she heard him ground out, “You. Are. Hanabi.”

 

Even though they remained unspoken, as she lay there willing the next Hyuga to begin growing inside her, the rest of that sentence rang loudly in the silence: “And you will never be Hinata.”

 

()()()()()

 

Another evening in her bed chamber, the look in his eyes when she ordered him to lick the ball of her ankle was pure murder, but she knew he would do it.

 

He wouldn't kill her, there in their intimate moments. He didn't have it in him.

 

He was born in his cage. He had not spent his entire life toeing that fine line between absolute power and absolute subjugation. Not since he was a child had he taken a breath that the Head Family could not take from him with a flex of their hands.

 

He had never been forced to make the choices she had had to make. It must be peaceful for him, on her leash. He would never admit it, of course. His tongue licked a warm curve around the bone of her ankle and she felt her eyelids flutter and meet.

 

TBC…