Naruto Fan Fiction ❯ Shinobi: Pride of Pride ❯ Chapter Fifteen ( Chapter 15 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

Shinobi: The Price of Pride

By: Hanasaki Rikku

Summary: With a clan like the Hanasaki, is it any wonder why Rikku is the way she is? She lost her brother and friend at such a young age, and things with Chizuko have seemed to only gotten worse. What does Itachi want and why does a certain Snake Sannin seem so interested in her life all of the sudden?

Rating: T/M. For violence (poorly written, but still there), language, and some other stuff I can't quite recall at the moment. Just be warned. Oh, that, and my horrible writing.

Genre: Romance/Action/Adventure/Angst

“Outside the dream world, life can be harsh - even cruel, but it is life.”

((CHAPTER FIFTEEN))

The steady beep continued on methodically, rousing her from a dreamless slumber. She couldn't bring herself to open her eyes just yet, though. She could already imagine where she was, images flooding back to her, reminding her of the events prior to falling unconscious.

She didn't remember ever feeling so tired before. She felt weak and drained of all energy. And even with thoughts of the complete failure that had been her mission, she couldn't bring herself to care. She felt so empty, devoid of the hurt and suffering she should have been feeling.

Her emotions seemed to have come to a standstill, so to speak, all feeling washed away and leaving her numb. She supposed this could all be the affects of trauma; because, who wouldn't have been more than a little surprised to find their best friend rise from the dead and mercilessly attack them. Was it really any wonder why everything seemed so…vapid? Time was passing slowly, and the silence surrounded her like an impartial blanket.

Ayame…was dead

…again.

It was a peculiar little phrase. Not something she'd ever imagined saying to herself. Though, she had never, for the life of her, imagined lying on a hospital cot, talking to herself, either. Was this what it was like to lose one's mind? It was only logical she'd lose herself to madness, after all the shit that had gone on in her life.

It was pathetic, really. It was all so pathetic.

Everyone has a purpose in this world, those had been her brother's parting words. Of course, she'd never really paid them any mind, so infuriated with her clan for ostracizing him, at Tochi himself for leaving her. Did she have a purpose though? What possible good could she accomplish when all she'd ever learned was the pain of abandonment?

Everyone who could have mattered had left her; her mother, father, brother, and friend. They had either died on her, or deserted her in this forlorn village of false mirth, and a clan spawned of pride and hatred. The villagers knew nothing of her past, and treated her with an apprehensive regard, and her clan, her family; she was nothing more than a puppet to them, a prodigy to use for their own selfish means.

She didn't need any of this; didn't think she could take any more of it. But it didn't hurt anymore like it had when she was a child, and she didn't hate them for it; couldn't be bothered to hate such pathetic creatures. She would not allow herself to sink so low; she was above that. After all, she belonged to one of the most prestigious clans in Konoha, even if it was tainted with the despicable deeds of her forefathers.

With an effort, she opened her eyes, slowly as to not blind herself with the untimely brightness of the room. She grunted softly, her breath hitching as she made to move her arm and steady herself, only to find it tucked carefully in a sling, resting idly on her chest. She blinked slowly, eyeing the limb with an odd detachment.

What happened to her arm? And how had she not noticed this? It hurt to remember, and she only seemed to be drawing blanks, so gave up quick enough. Actually, she felt more than a little unnerved at the fact that she couldn't feel her arm at all. She'd have to talk to the nurses about that.

There was a feeble creaking of metal, followed by footsteps and someone talking. All this sudden noise echoed in her head, resonating with an agonizing loudness that almost caused her to topple out of the bed. She steadied herself with an able hand, taking a deep breath and slowly raising her eyes to the door. She blinked dumbly when she found no one at there, a small frown forming at her brow.

Belatedly, she realized that her visitor was already at her bedside, eyeing her wearily.

Chizuko's eyes were ablaze with a mixture of worry and relief, though it didn't really seem to make sense to her delusional mind. In another eccentric show of oddity, she found the older girl's lips moving, as if speaking, but her words only just barely registered seconds later.

“…Rikku?” Chizuko's voice sounded distant. It sounded as if her ears were stuffed with cotton, preventing her from coherently hearing the other girl. She could only stare up at the girl vacantly as she continued to repeat her name, panic lacing her tone. She blinked again, running her tongue over her unusually dry lips, parting them slightly as if preparing to speak.

It seemed to take forever to form the words in her mouth, and nearly all her strength to voice them out loud. In the end, she still only ended up with a hoarse, “Chizuko,” But at least it was something. The crimson-haired girl's frantic tirade came to a sudden halt, the remainder of her sentence catching in her throat, and she seemed oblivious to the fact that her jaw was hanging slack. The expression “Catching Flies” came to mind.

“Rikku? Are you okay? You had me worried there. What's wrong? You don't look so good. Why don't you lie down? Do you want me to get you anything? Water? Food? They have a machine out front—” She continued to ramble on pointlessly, and with no intention to stop any time soon, so Rikku merely tuned her out and stared past her.

Inside, she felt something familiar and alien all the same, strong and unyielding as it grew. It took her a while to identify it for what it really was. Anger. Anger towards Chizuko. For some reason, sitting here, in the same room as her friend and comrade, filled her with such an intense aversion.

She didn't understand why, though. Why would she be mad at Chizuko? This was no slight feeling. It was intense, and beastly, thrashing wildly inside her, seeking some sort of bloody release that would no doubt end in someone's death; preferably, Chizuko's bloody death.

She frowned again, gazing thoughtfully into the door. That was a rather unsettling thought. She wasn't sure she wanted to think about it now. Or ever. It had something to do with Ayame, that much she knew. But anything involving the girl right now was a bit more than she could handle.

But she couldn't trust herself, and her self-control was faulting. She wasn't sure what would happen should she loosen her hold on those emotions, but she wasn't going to risk it.

“Get out.”

She couldn't hide the threatening edge to her tone, or the slight flare to her eyes; she knew they were dilated, her vision sharper now. She managed, however, to keep her face apathetic, and was doing her best not to look at the Himura right now. Please Chizuko, don't argue with me…Just go…

“—What?” Chizuko's voice sounded confused, and she could almost feel the intensity in her eyes, causing her to inwardly flinch. She didn't bother to repeat herself, concentrating instead on pushing back that anger surging within her. After a moment, Chizuko spoke again, unsure. “If this is about what happened with Ayame, I had no choice. I'm so—”

“Get. Out. Now.” Her tone became frigid at the sound of her former teammate's name. While pulling herself up into a standing position, despite the pain it caused in her shoulder, she ended falling back down, hissing.

Becoming agitated, Chizuko stepped forward, “Rikku, you're overreacting…”

She wasn't sure which hurt more. The pain in her shoulder, or the one in her chest…

“Leave.”

“Rikku—!”

“Now.”

“But—”

She swallowed a breath, closing her eyes and compelling her body to relax. Her hands were fisted on the bed sheets, knuckles white, and a solemn resolve fell over her. I'm sorry… “Leave now, Himura. I don't need your pity.”

With and undignified huff, Chizuko spun around, kicking the chair beside her while doing so. “So we're back to this again, huh?” The distress lacing her words was nearly tangible, but so was the exasperation. “I don't pity you, Rikku. I'm worried.”

I know you don't, but…

Chizuko really didn't know what she was talking about. She wouldn't understand. Because...she remembered now. She remembered the need to kill; she remembered the lust for blood and power that had nearly driven her over the edge and almost cost Chizuko her life. This was her curse, as a Hanasaki. She was destined to a life of loneliness, because, how could she allow herself the privilege of friends, knowing the dangers.

This was for the best.

Looking up, eyes cold and unfeeling, her features twisted into a look of disgust and revulsion that took her years as Shinobi and the blood of Hanasaki to perfect. “You killed her. You killed her, and you don't even care.” It was tearing her apart inside, slowly, but surely. She forced herself to continue, “You're disgusting. How can you call yourself human?” She swallowed thickly, turning to the side, no longer able to look the older girl in the eyes. “I hate you.”

Those words seemed to echo in the room, hurting her more than her older opposite, and she stood for the longest moment, eyes clenched shut tightly, the only notice to Chizuko's departure being the abrupt slam of a door.

Taking a deep breath, Rikku slumped, falling back on the bed with a wince, her hand instinctively rising up to her injured shoulder. She felt numb all over again. Hollow. This outlandish feeling of dejection and solemn acceptance clashing together for dominance, rendering her senseless, that for a moment, she considered just giving in. Giving up. She couldn't even find it in her to be angry or sad for how she'd treated Chizuko, though the pang of guilt for those words she'd uttered was still very much there. But she couldn't turn back now. She had to this.

I'm so sorry Chizuko…So sorry…

She hoped she was right, hoped she was doing the right thing by pushing the Himura away. She'd known Chizuko since she was a child, and just the thought of separation brought her worlds of pain. Chizuko was the closest thing to family she had left, and if anything happened to her she just knew she would die. She had to do this. She had to protect Chizuko.

The door creaked open, and she halfheartedly glanced up to see who had entered. She felt a faint spark of surprise somewhere inside of her, but it hardly even registered as she stared into deep green eyes.

Kiko smirked, glancing back at the hall behind her curiously before making her way to her. “What was that all about?” Crossing the small distance to the bed in which she sat upon, cloak fluttering behind her almost dramatically, she laughed. “Chizuko looked positively livid.”

Avoiding the girl's prying gaze, she turned her attention to the window, where the setting sun could clearly be seen. In all these years, Kiko hadn't really changed much, not that she had ever really gotten to know the girl, but she was one of the few people she considered a `friend'. If there was one thing Kiko was, still and all, was unique. “It was nothing.”

Kiko laughed lightly, “Nothing, huh? Yea. Sure.”

“Why are you here?” She sighed softly, doing her best to ignore the throbbing in her shoulder that had taken refuge and the spreading twinge of guilt. It hurt like a bitch. Both did, actually, but she really didn't want to think about her lack of emotional control.

She found herself staring at her arm again. How had she injured her entire arm? She didn't even remember. It certainly hadn't been from the wound she attained during her brief encounter with the Uchiha; that wound, she was sure, she'd healed while with Orochimaru. It had been deep, courtesy of the younger Uchiha who'd gone on a mad rampage after seeing Itachi, letting nothing stand in its way.

“To the point, as always.” Kiko shrugged, crossing her arms and resigning to a more staid countenance. “You ran into Yakushi Kabuto, right?” She didn't wait for her to confirm this, moving on. “I was assigned to him some time ago, but I haven't been able to catch him.”

“Hunter-nin assignment?” Rikku wondered out loud, watching the girl from the corner of her eye. She'd almost forgotten about Kiko's promotion to hunter-nin, with so much on her mind.

Kiko blinked, nodding, “Ah, yeah…”

The dark-haired girl hummed lightly in thought, leaning back onto the bed, stabling her weight onto her left arm. “I was thinking about transferring into that division.” She commented offhandedly, crossing her legs.

The younger girl grinned, “It'll be great to have you onboard.” Rikku merely gave a slight incline of her head, gesturing her to continue with her previous issue. “Right. Anyway. I know you and Zuzu-chan have a grudge—”

“Chizuko.”

Kiko blinked again, before correcting herself. “Chizuko has a grudge against him, so, I could give you guys whatever info I can manage to collect.”

Rikku studied the younger girl, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. Then, with a slight tilt to her head, she said, “I wonder, how it is that you know about Chizuko's…dislike for this man.”

“It's common knowledge you two still hold a thing against Oto.” Kiko stated matter-of-factly, shrugging. She studied the younger, eyes locked firmly on those twin pools of endless green. Almost as a nervous gesture, the girl smiled back at her, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

Rikku continued to stare, a touch of a frown gracing her brow, but nothing more, “Is it?” She shook her head lightly, sitting up. Kiko didn't answer, didn't comment, smiling still and innocently just beyond the thin frame of her tinted glasses. “In any event, it is not common knowledge just who it was Chizuko was after. She was the only who had seen him. She hadn't even told me.”

Kiko's smile never faltered. “Yes, well, I just put two and two together. I heard about your encounter, and,” She giggled softly, waving her hand in a dismissive manner, “I kinda overheard Zuzu's report to the Hokage.” Rikku gave a short nod, looking unconvinced. She doubted Chizuko would openly relay the name of Ayame's murderer, but she'd just have to take the Tamashii girl's word for it, as she wouldn't have a chance to speak to Chizuko for a long time. Kiko grinned, sighing, “Well, I gotta go. Have some work that needs taking care of. I'll make sure to tell you if I hear anything about Yakushi.”

Rikku nodded politely, mumbling a low, “Ja ne,” and closing her eyes. She waited for the silent click of the door as it was closed behind the Tamashii, the younger Nin's footsteps disappearing around a turn somewhere, before standing, eyes browsing about the room in search of her uniform. Seeing it nowhere in the vicinity, her eyes fell on the closet doors and she began to slowly make her way to it. Sliding them open, she was a little beset to find her ANBU attire a complete mess.

Sighing, she pulled her cloak from its hanger, inwardly grimacing at the rather rugged state it was in. She'd only been on two assignments and already needed new clothes. Tucking it underneath her injured arm, she used her other hand to slip it in the front pocket. Right away, she felt the slightly cool of metal against flesh and clasped her hand around the diminutive object, pulling it out, casting her cloak aside and meandering back to the bed to examine her newly acquired possession.

Feeling lethargic, she had to keep herself from lying back on the bed and simply sleeping the day away, but her pride made sure to keep her awake. Idly, she twirled the little silver key between her thumb and forefinger, pausing only to scrutinize the finely engraved serpent upon it length, and had half a mind to realize it was her own family's insignia.

The serpent was twisted into the shape of an S, with a solitary dot engraved in the space between its tale and the mid section of its body.

Curiously, she ran her thumb over the etching. She didn't know what the key was for, or why in the hell Orochimaru of all people had given this to her, but knew for sure she'd find her answers with the Hanasaki head. The thought of willingly speaking with her guardians was the only thing that caused her hesitance, but it was quickly quelled.

Unfortunately, she realized, she had completely lost track of time, and had forgotten to ask Kiko earlier how long she had been out. Her grandfather had a very busy schedule. If she so much as breathed the wrong way while a guest was in the house, she would know to expect a rather long and stern lecture, followed by an excruciating `spar'; he was still a ticked off about Chizuko's little surprise visit.

The man had a horrible control over his temper, which would have been looked down upon by the clan members if not for the domineering fear he'd instilled upon them all.

If her grandfather hadn't been such an overall prick, and responsible for the whole Tochi thing, she would almost say she admired the old man; he'd accomplished much during his rein as a Hanasaki leader.

The sun had set and the moon had begun to inch its way across the darkening sky before she realized it was getting late and she'd have to get home to start her search. With a wince, she pushed herself up, clutching the key tightly while making the small trek across the room to gather her clothes.

She slipped on her over-shirt, a difficult task alone, and strained to pick her cloak from the floor, but had no intention on attaching any of her armor. It felt uncomfortable in such raggedy clothes that looked like they'd most definitely seen better days, so accustomed to the fine clothing her family was known for, and could hardly wait to get home and change.

Throwing her armor and cloak over her able shoulder she glanced at the door, wasting a good long minute debating whether or not to alert the doctors to her departure or simply sneaking out. She chose the latter, her Ninja skills enabling her to successfully leap out the window without causing further injury to herself and sneak around back of the hospital.

It would be faster if she cut through the alleys, which would eventually lead to a desolate little dirt path that forked some ways down the road. It was a path she'd taken as a child, but hadn't had much use for later on, as she rarely made visits to the hospital.

It took no more than a half an hour of walking in what would have otherwise lasted a good two hours, if not more, had she taken the most common route. Really, it was a wonder how Chizuko had completely missed the grand estates; they were located relatively close to the field the young Himura spent most her time training in.

The gates were hastily opened when the guard posted above caught sight of her, bowing lowly in respect. She nodded curtly, more in a customary gesture of manners than real acknowledgement, making a small detour at her home to shower quickly and change into some comfortable robes. The key never once left her person. She was almost afraid to let go of it, like she would lose it any moment.

Once she managed to get cleaned, and feeling a little refreshed, she started her long walk to her grandfather's district, not at all looking forward to walking the hundred or some acres to the Northern District.

Sometimes, having such a large estate annoyed her.

In total, the Hanasaki owned about two hundred acres of land, which was very nearly half of Konoha. It was probably one of the only sanctioned things they had acquired, having resided within Konoha for as long as it had stood. Somewhere along the years, though, they had evenly split the lands into four districts, the Northern and Southern being the largest and inhabited solely by those with royal Hanasaki blood.

It was rather sad that she owned an entire quarter of land completely to herself with no use for it at all, and would soon be inheriting the Northern District as well. She'd once shared her expansive lands with her brother, but that had been long ago. The only ones to keep her company now were her many servants and pets. There was actually an entire section of her house, the half her brother had owned, dedicated to the various species of serpents she'd procured.

When she reached the main house, night had finally settled in, and the air was cooled considerably by the winter's chill. It was beginning to irritate her wound, so she sped up her pace, rushing up the steps to the front door and brought a hand up to knock soundly on the lacquered frame. It slid open shortly after, the servant bowing as he stepped away from the threshold without a second thought, allowing her passage. She carefully slipped out of her sandals, placing them in the genkan.

Without a glance at the oppressed boy, she started down the hall, calling back to him. “Is Hokori-sama in?” The scrambling of feet was heard as the child hurried to catch up to her, making sure to keep a good distance behind her before answering in a meek voice.

“H-hai.”

Rikku nodded, stopping at a door as she glanced back at the boy. “Inform him of my presence, I wish to speak with him. I will be waiting in the tearoom.” She didn't wait to see him off, sliding open the door and inclining her head in small bow, before proceeding forward, closing the door behind her and making her way to the low-standing table in the center of the room. Kneeling in a formal seiza fashion, she frowned as the movement caused her shoulder to burn.

Earlier, she'd had the misfortune of attempting to affix the simple brace back on her shoulder. It had been a difficult process to adjust the sling comfortably, especially after the wound on her shoulder had reopened during her shower. She'd gotten a good look at it then, and had been thoroughly disgusted by what she'd seen.

It was definitely no standard puncture wound, as the skin around the cut had been turning a pale, irritated shade of red, with a long red vein tracing dangerously close to her heart. Her entire arm had been ablaze with pain, which gave her the impression that the doctors had had to numb to limb to keep it from distracting her. It was still throbbing painfully, but not as horribly as when she'd first felt the spray of hot water hit the cut in what could have been equivalent to one of Godaime's punch.

She had paled considerably, and had the repugnant urge to vomit any time she placed too much strain on the arm; the sudden migraine she'd gained doing nothing to overcome this. Her vision was blurry, and her right half was incredibly sore; her years of training as Shinobi and a Hanasaki were the only things that kept her features calm and unperturbed.

She found she only had to wait a few minutes before her grandfather walked in, followed by his wife, and her grandmother, Meiyo. Both bowed in a similar manner to her, entering the room in silence. Hokori took a seat before her while his wife busied herself for preparations of tea. His eyes, a pallid shade of green, fell upon her right arm at once, narrowing disapprovingly. “What have you done now, Rikku?”

There was clear distaste in his voice, but she paid it no mind. “A minor injury,” she lied, knowing they wouldn't care either way. In defiance, her shoulder gave a particular painful twitch, nearly causing her to falter.

His attention left that of her arm, and locked upon her molten eyes. “Meiyo will have a look at you after this.” She only nodded, her usable hand resting above the pocket in which the key lay. Hokori spoke again, “I have heard of your encounter with the missing-nin Uchiha.” Again, she nodded. “Twice, you have come across this man, and survived with trifling injuries.” She would have denied the comment, remembering both near-death experiences, but kept quiet. He took the yunomi from Meiyo, bringing it to his thin lips and taking a sip. Setting the cup down, he nodded. “As expected of a Hanasaki heir.”

It was quite the effort not to roll her eyes, because she couldn't have cared less about being seen as the next heir, taking a sip from her own cup as it was handed to her. “If you know all this, then I assume you have also been made aware of my confrontation against the Legendary Sannin, Orochimaru, and his apprentice, Yakushi Kabuto.”

His features darkened, and she noticed, even Meiyo had paused in her actions to watch them with something akin to surprise in her bronzed colored orbs. Carefully, he said, “Yes. But I had dismissed the notion as nothing short of overwrought gossip.” He eyed her for a moment, as if searching for something. “You may have survived against the Uchiha boy, but this man is one of the three San—”

“We did not engage in any form of battle.”

He actually frowned this time, disbelieving, and probably agitated at her interruption. “Oh?”

Her hand snuck into her pocket, grasping the tiny key within. “He appeared to be more interested in speaking with me than fighting.” She replied evasively, toying absentmindedly with the key while gauging his reaction. He seemed to notice this, his gaze dropping to her pocketed hand briefly.

With an air of exasperation, he leaned back, eyeing her suspiciously. “What exactly is this about, Rikku?” She stared at him for a long moment, thinking of a way to word her following questions. Finally, she pulled out the key, placing it gently upon the polished table, keeping it close to shield it from his reach; she had no intention of letting him handle something as important as this. Though, why she had deemed it so important was beyond her. “A key?” His tone was laced with the incredulity his features failed to express. “Don't waste my time, girl. I have no—”

“This key carries our clan symbol, Hokori-sama. Not only that, but it was given to me by Orochimaru himself.” She stated simply.

His eyes narrowed to a glare, “You are lacking in manners, girl. Do not interrupt me again.”

“I apologize, Hokori-sama,” she bit out coldly.

Not affected in the least, he nodded. “Go on.”

Whatever decent mood she'd been in earlier had been exhaustively ruined, and she found her patience to be lacking at the moment. “Yes, well, the key is not my immediate interest. I am more interested in knowing about this Orochimaru character.”

There was a sudden clatter, catching her attention. She turned in the direction of the noise, to find her grandmother standing rigid, the tray she'd been carrying lying on the floor, the assortment of cups lying shattered on the tatami. She quirked a brow in question, screening the elder Hanasaki woman with a look of detachment.

Meiyo's wiry lips were contorted in a contemptuous sneer. “You stupid girl! What interest have you with such a man?”

She ignored the woman, turning back to her grandfather, who had, to her surprise, yet to look away from her, his eyes holding some unrecognizable sentiment. Her brow pinched in a frown, wondering what it was that had both her grandparents in such a terse mood. “What do you wish to know of him?” He finally spoke, with an odd reluctance to his tone.

Brushing aside their unusual behavior, she replied. “I want to know how he is capable of using our Kurutteiru. How he has such an expansive knowledge of the Hanasaki, and why he seemed so interested in my parentage.” The look that flashed past those pale green eyes of his seemed almost nervous, and she could almost feel the heated scowl aimed at her back. She glared, “You know, don't you?”

Hokori sighed, for once in his life looking his sixty-eight summers. He reclined, placing more of his weight on his heels. She was almost afraid to see this complete and sudden change in her grandfather; she'd almost forgotten her frustration with the two elder Hanasaki entirely.

She looked away, feeling awkward.

“I cannot tell you.”

More than a little shocked at his words, she turned back to him, and was even more surprised to find his eyes brimming with barely contained rage. This seemed to kindle an animosity of her own, for she sat up, leveling the man with a steady glare. “What do you mean? Why are you unable to tell me?” It was a wonder how she could manage to keep her voice as leveled and controlled as she did. Realizing her mistake, she sat back down, averting her eyes and breathing deeply, bowing her in apology. “Gomen nassai, Hokori-sama.”

She had expected a reprimand for her lack of self-control, was almost certain she'd come to find herself under the influence of her grandfather's Kurutteiru, if nothing else.

His body shifted, palms resting atop the table for a long moment, his eyes shutting, and a soft sigh emitting past his lips. She almost flinched as he stood, slowly, his age apparent in his every movement. She did not, however, expect to find him turning his back to her and walk away, exiting the room.

What just happened?

She was made painfully aware of her grandmother's presence, the silence thick and encompassing the room's inhibitors. She only stared, unblinkingly, into the shoji door, surprise causing her eyes to widen. It was just a sort of insensate shock that filtered through every nerve in her body, her mind failing to comprehend the situation. She didn't know whether or not her grandfather was angry with her. Her grandfather rarely seemed to feel anything, and she was completely inept in reading the man.

She didn't hear her grandmother's words, but snapped out of her trance-like state as the elder woman's scowling features were shoved in her line of view. She blinked, schooling her features, but not speaking a word. By the look on her face, Meiyo must have said something she'd missed, and the woman looked non-too pleased with being ignored.

“Answer me, girl.”

She blinked again, trying not to let her confusion show. Again, she kept silent, more so to irritate the woman than because she didn't know what she was talking about.

She didn't carry much respect for the other, and could really care less either way if she would disappear. Meiyo was responsible for a lot in her life, none of her experiences with the woman containing pleasant memories. She was the kind of person whose brackishness radiated off them in waves, and corrupted those around them.

The woman was strong, she was well aware of that, her knowledge of jutsus great, but Rikku hardly saw her as a capable Shinobi. The woman's bitterness and pride blinded her judgment.

Said woman snarled a foul comment under her breath, setting the newly acquired tray she'd been holding down upon the table with more force than needed. She straightened, hands deftly sliding across the length of her silken kimono, smoothing down the creases on the dark fabric. Apart from the scornful sneer, the woman was every bit as regal as a Hanasaki should be.

“You have become weak. You are not worthy of our clan.”

There really wasn't a way to respond to that, as foreseen as it was. There was no point in arguing with the arrogant woman, and she did not care to anger the woman who would soon be inspecting her wound. She might decide to worsen her condition out of spite. “Hmph…”

“Unfortunately,” Meiyo continued, chestnut-colored eyes darkening. “You are the only living heir.” She couldn't help it. Her eyes flickered at the underlining meaning behind her words, her chakra making a particular spike in its flow. Meiyo smirked at the response, but continued speaking as if nothing had occurred; as if she was not in danger of being beaten to death by the young Hanasaki. “Hopefully, when the time comes, you will learn to follow in our footsteps, unlike Tochi.”

“I doubt it.” Her shoulder gave a powerful lurch of pain, warning her of her limitations, but she paid it little heed. Meiyo was pushing it, she knew. Her brother was still a sore spot, and the woman was doing everything in her power to antagonize her; hurt her.

“We shall see.” Her smirk widened, a satisfied gleam in her eyes. Rikku glared up at the woman, her body shaking slightly in her anger.

At this point, the door had opened once again, but she was too busy glowering at her grandmother to notice much of anything. She knew the elder Hanasaki had done this solely to rile her, and was ashamed to admit it had worked. She loathed that woman, more than anyone, and that feeling seemed to only grow as the minutes ticked on, seeping into her soul.

“Leave us.”

Her grandfather's voice was like a blessing, as odd as the thought was. Meiyo seemed to grow angry, but bowed at her husband, glaring at her over her shoulder as she exited the room. Rikku inhaled deeply, closing her eyes, forcing herself to relax. Hokori took his seat, at the same time placing a box down on the table, pushing it towards her.

Its length easily rested along the extent of her forearm, standing about six inches in height. The ebony surface was embroidered with an arrangement of nomadic lines, winding about the surface carelessly. The trimming was painted a deep, amber-gold, the same as the clasp keeping the box carefully locked.

Her hand seemed to move on its own accord, running along the roof gingerly. “What is it?” She murmured, her gaze captured by the simple black box before her.

His hand crept forward, hovering over the box as if indicating something. She followed his finger to whatever it was he was pointing at, stopping when her gaze fell upon the soft, golden clasp. It took a moment before she saw it, though. The name. One she wasn't so surprised in seeing, carved in intricate kana.

Orochimaru.

((CHAPTER END))

HR: Bet you saw that coming...