Me: I can't tell you how many times I reworked this chapter. I finally like it. Also, if you're confused about the chapter numbers, I took the first three down and replaced them with one new one. I even changed the story description. Slowly, verrrry slowly, this story is improving. Don't forget to check out the first chapter!

Enjoy.

The box tumbles off the edge of the cliff, and Naruto swears loudly. He scrambles to his feet and lunges after it, only to be stopped short by a gigantic paw slamming into his stomach. His torso lurches forward while his midsection stays in place, and he coughs out all the air in his lungs. Damn, that hurts. But before he can think anything beyond that he's sailing through the air. If there was any breath left in his body it leaves at the impact of his back and the ground, and he has only a moment to recover before jaws come crashing down. He rolls out of the way just in time, hacking uncontrollably.

Regaining his footing, Naruto leaps a safe distance away, heaving. He bumps shoulders with Kakashi, who is backing up from his own opponent, a giant of a man who breathes sparks with every exhale. The huge snarling dog circles them, the boy who summoned it seated comfortably on its back. He grasps the dog's ruff with one hand and waves at them with the other, smiling. "That kid's starting to piss me off," Naruto huffs.

"Naruto," Kakashi says sharply, and the blonde snaps to attention. "I'll distract them. You get the box."

"Gotcha." They slowly rotate, back to back, shifting so that Kakashi has both the man and the canine summon in his sights, and Naruto has more or less a straight shot to the cliff.

The chirping and screeching of birds fills the air, and the electric current raises the hair on his arms. It's a familiar sound and sensation. He used to equate it with Team 7 and confidence and brotherhood. Then, he equated it with battles and anxiety and a seemingly endless search. It still gives him a moment of pause, like maybe someone is about to stomp all over his feelings and tell him they can never be friends again before trying to put a fist through his stomach. But he swallows the bubble of concern and reminds himself that the Chidori has more than one wielder. And Kakashi has always been on his side. Even so, he shifts back just a fraction of an inch, bumping into his sensei again, just to remind himself that they are back to back, fighting the same fight.

One word from Kakashi, "now", and he's off, lungs ballooning with air now, exhilaration lifting his feet from the ground. He runs on wind.

The fire-breathing man is dead, but the boy is slung over Kakashi's shoulder, hands bound, glaring back at Naruto as they leap through the trees. He smiles at the kid, waving, and receives a sneer.

Naruto's pleased they succeeded in their mission, aggravated that his abdomen is still tender, but most prominently he feels relief. He's relieved the boy didn't end up dead. He's relieved they didn't kill him. Out of necessity or on accident. What the hell was he doing there, anyway?

Naruto leaps up next to Kakashi. "So why were you with that thug?" he asks the kid, curious.

"Why are you with this thug?" The kid shoots back, jerking his head at Kakashi.

Naruto has the conflicting urge to frown and laugh, so he does a weird combination of both. "Have some respect. This guy trained me. He's my sensei."

"Well Ichiro trained me. And now he's dead. Your sensei killed my sensei." The boy pauses, glares harder. "And my dog."

Kakashi glances over his shoulder. "I apologize. I didn't want it to come to that, but our mission was to retrieve that box and return it to the shrine. Your sensei was prepared to fight to the death for it."

"I was too," the boy snaps petulantly.

"Why did you want it so bad, anyhow?" Naruto asks. "It's just some old comb."

For the first time, the boy looks almost sad. "I don't know. Ichiro said it was important. He said the boss wanted it."

"Boss?" Naruto asks. "What boss?"

"I don't know," the kid repeats, pouting again. "I only talked to Ichiro. He said that even though he was my boss, he had a boss too. And someday his boss would be my boss." His small face crumples. "But now I'm never gonna get to meet him, cause we failed our mission, and Ichiro's dead, and it's your fault." He shoots a withering look at Naruto.

"Hey, you and your sensei stole from a shrine," Naruto argues. "We were just doing our job."

"We were too," the kid says, disturbingly sincere. And then, he begins to cry. Quiet, undramatic, but heartwrenching all the same.

Naruto flinches. "Whoa, hey, I'm sorry kid, I didn't mean to – "

"Naruto," Kakashi says quietly. "Leave him alone for now. He's been through a lot today."

The blonde presses his lips together, and lets himself fall behind slightly. He glances down at the ornately carved box tucked under his arm. It looks expensive, but it got a little banged up in the fight and the fall. It's probably worth much less now. The real treasure, as explained by the priestess, is the comb inside. It's sacred, for some reason or another. Sacred enough that several monks died protecting it before Ichiro and the kid got ahold of it. Naruto doesn't really understand. What's so great about ancient artifacts that people are willing to die for them? Naruto's pretty sure he wouldn't die for a comb in a box, no matter how old it is.

He looks back up at the kid, staring off into the distance, a steady flow of tears staining his cheeks. Naruto feels more than the standard pity for a child who has lost someone; he feels sympathy. He's known death as well. People he's loved have been taken from him (and one of them given back, he thinks with a grateful glance to Kakashi) and it always hurts. That it's the reality of shinobi life, that they all died honorably, doesn't make it any easier. But he's stronger now, strong enough to protect them, his sensei and his team and his friends and Hinata, Hinata. He loves them. He loves her. He loves her so much – yes he does, he knows it's love – and it hurts to be away from her, and if anything ever happened to her…

He can't think like that. He won't. She's in good hands; Shikamaru, if not Sasuke, will make sure she's okay. She can take care of herself. And if she can't, if everything else fails, nothing will happen to her ever again, because he will protect her.

Naruto knows what he'd die for. He'd die for the people he loves.

Hinata wakes to absolute silence. She listens for voices, for footsteps, but there is nothing. She shakes Shikamaru and Sasuke awake and they climb up on deck, immediately struck by the fact that they can't see more than ten feet in front of them. A thick fog has settled around them, and for once the ocean is almost entirely still.

Sencho is at the wheel, squinting into the fog. "It's unnatural," he mutters. "Can't see a damn thing. We'll have to wait it out – I won't risk getting gutted by the rocks around the cliffs."

The three don't bother going back to the barracks, staying up on deck instead, playing a few rounds of cards to pass the time. Hours go by. The ship searches the coast for a lighthouse, but dares not venture too close to land. The more time they spend searching, the more Umidori grows restless, and eventually ceases to speak to anyone. Captain Sencho speaks only when necessary. Even the crew is quieter, more solemn, though in reaction to the fog or Umidori's reticence is unclear. Umidori walks by them only once, nodding in acknowledgement, and then spends her time either at the bow of the ship, or by the wheel with the captain, staring intently at the horizon.

Very soon they will part ways. Umidori and Sencho will go to the shrine, and the three of them will continue on their mission. It is only by chance that they have stayed together this long, suspended in the ghostly mist. In fact, it is only by chance that Umidori is with them now, instead of later, when Kamome mentioned she normally went. Hinata feels that she will miss the girl, even for the relatively short time they will be apart. Umidori is someone who requires attention, protection. A part of Hinata is pleased to fill the role.

When she was very young Hinata thought she might like to have a younger sister to coddle and protect and indulge, and she had done so with Hanabi until the younger Hyuga made it clear that she was not the type to be coddled and protected. Hinata had reluctantly left Hanabi to her own devices, and watched her grow into the polite, distant, capable young woman she was today. If Hanabi was independent in the extreme, then Umidori was the opposite, dependent to the point that Hinata wonders how life without the supervision of Kamome is possible.

If she thinks about it, she realizes it isn't.

Shikamaru suggests, out of boredom more than anything else, Hinata suspects, that they go over their strategy once again. "The Tani asked for military aid," he says, "but it might be possible to resolve this matter peacefully."

"They don't seem to be on speaking terms," Hinata says.

Shikamaru frowns. "Well, as outsiders with no stake in the conflict, we could act as mediators between the two clans." He absently flicks his lighter a few times. He's taken to fiddling with it lately as they get closer to their destination. Maybe the strange near-silence of the ship is getting to him, as it is to Hinata. "Of course, it could be that there's no way to keep the peace. If so, we stick to the original plan, observe and report back to the Hokage."

"In that case we should travel to the capital and meet with the Kubochi leaders," Sasuke says. "They'll have a different version of the events."

Shikamaru nods slowly. "Okay. After a few days we'll go there, present ourselves as emissaries."

"Three emissaries are excessive. One should stay behind with the Tani," Sasuke says. He gestures to Hinata. "You and Hyuga go."

Shikamaru stops flicking his lighter. "No," he says, a bit sharply. "We should all go. As a team."

"That's unnecessary. Only one person is needed to negotiate. The second person is a back-up, in case negotiations fail."

"What do you mean, 'fail'? Worst case, they reject the peace offer and send us on our way."

"That's far from the worst case. We come on behalf of the Tani. We'll be suspected as spies."

"We come on our own behalf. We haven't picked sides yet."

"We answered the Tani's request for aid. We accepted responsibility for their wellbeing."

"We didn't accept, we said we'd observe the situation and work from there."

"The Kubochi won't see it that way."

"Oh yeah?"

"I've dealt with Kubochi clan leaders before."

"Then why don't you want to deal with them now?"

"Negotiations failed before."

"I wonder whose fault that was."

"Arguing about this isn't helping anyone," Hinata breaks in, concerned that this is escalating beyond the normal banter. "We…we should focus on what we're going to say to them."

"Actually, Hinata," Shikamaru says, not taking his eyes off of Sasuke, "I kinda want to know why Sasuke doesn't want to go to the capital."

"If I went with you it would only complicate the matter. Like I said, I've dealt with them before. They will be biased due to my past actions."

"Just what the hell did you do that would make the Kubochi hate you so much, huh?"

"I was recruiting," Sasuke repeats.

"Ah, right, I forgot. That whole thing where you left the village to join a traitor who killed our Hokage and then spent years as his errand boy/assassin." Shikamaru's voice drips with sarcasm, and Hinata winces.

Sasuke's eyes narrow. "If you have something to say, say it."

"Fine. You were a traitor, a lot of people think you still are, and guess what? I don't trust you."

"Shikamaru," Hinata admonishes quietly. The genuine dislike in his voice surprises her.

He looks at her, eyes hard. "Well, what's your vote, Hinata? I'm open to suggestion."

Now they're both waiting. Staring at her. Always, her instinct has been to shrink into herself, become invisible. Her shoulders automatically pull inwards, but she fights the impulse. A few years earlier, and she would gladly have fainted, even if she had to fake it, to avoid such a decision. But she is not that girl anymore, that wisp of a thing who bowed under even moderate expectations and so easily bended to the wills of others. She is someone who counts. "I think we should stay together," she says slowly, but (she hopes) firmly. "We're a team. The Tani and the Kubochi should see that."

Shikamaru blinks, then a faint smile softens his features. "Right. That's what I've been saying."

She looks at Sasuke, imploringly. "If they recognize you, we can explain the situation. What you did…it can't have been that bad." A reassurance. But despite her best efforts it is a question too.

Sasuke doesn't answer with words. He holds her gaze, and Hinata is filled with dread at what the Sasuke of only a few years ago would have been able and willing to do. It frightens her more than she'd like, and she forces herself to move on quickly before she can dwell on it. "Well," she says softly, "it…could work to our advantage?" She darts a glance at Shikamaru, but he is looking at Sasuke, expression grim.

Finally, Sasuke speaks. "They do fear me. And they do respond to fear." There's no remorse, nor pride. Fact is fact. The loathing, the terror he inspires don't seem to affect him one way or the other. It concerns her, it scares her, that the feelings of others are so meaningless in his eyes.

Again she is saved from ruminating – light footsteps alert them to Umidori's approach. She is frowning. "You're being noisy," she says.

After a moment Shikamaru apologizes. "Sorry, kid. Won't happen again." His brow wrinkles. "Hey, if you don't mind me asking, why the sudden quiet? You were talking ears off before."

Umidori plops herself down in their informal circle, dropping her chin in her hands. "We're getting closer to the shrine," she says solemnly. "They're getting louder."

"The crew?" Shikamaru asks skeptically.

Umidori actually giggles. "No…"

"Who?" Hinata coaxes gently when Umidori doesn't elaborate.

Umidori looks surprised; the answer is obvious to her. "The spirits."

The three of them exchange glances. "Umidori," Hinata says, drawing the girl's attention, "where is your family shrine?"

But it's Sasuke who answers, less a revelation than a confirmation. "The Unclaimed Lands."

Umidori nods. "When we get really close they start talking a lot. I can't concentrate. There's…too many voices. They're all so sad." Her face holds a troubled expression usually reserved for those much older.

"The spirits talk to you?" Shikamaru asks, incredulous.

Umidori nods, and looks like she might say something else, but just then the change overtakes her. Her eyes become glassy, her expression melts into one of tranquility, and she rises. "No more yelling, please," she says softly, and Hinata isn't sure if she's talking to them. The girl turns and walks back up to the bow without another word.

No one says anything. Hinata clears her throat. "Well," she says, looking at Sasuke, "you did tell us…"

Sasuke raises an eyebrow. Duh, his expression says.

"Or the kid is delusional," Shikamaru supplies absently. He seems to be thinking something over.

Hinata bites her lip, looking to the front of the ship where Umidori stands alone. "Possibly. It's strange that Captain Sencho never told us…"

Abruptly Shikamaru snaps his fingers. "I got it," he says. "That's what it reminds me of. The Unclaimed Lands are just like the land of the dead, from the myths. Yomi. Land of spirits…cold, dark…no weather, nothing grows there…"

"Legends are usually based on some sort of truth," Hinata offers after a brief silence. She doesn't want to put too much faith in the idea, but the more she thinks about it, the more sense it makes. There are striking resemblances…

"The Unclaimed Lands don't concern us," Sasuke says. "We have a mission."

Shikamaru yawns. The uncharacteristic fight seems to have left him. "Yeah, yeah. Interesting theory, though."

Hinata, more at ease now that the tension has passed, nudges him teasingly. "Because it was yours."

Shikamaru cocks an eyebrow. "Well, yeah. I am the most interesting person I know." He yawns again, involuntarily. "See? Talking to other people puts me to sleep."

"The feeling is mutual," Sasuke murmurs. Shikamaru hears, and shoots him a dirty look, but doesn't counter.

Hinata smiles, but it's uneasy, and worry lingers heavily. Before, they had confined themselves to silent dislike and venomless jabs, but this was more. It was personal. Hinata is glad that what she said didn't make things worse…rather, it seemed to diffuse the situation.

She hasn't allowed herself to think about her dream from last night until now, but it disturbs her deeply. Sasuke was featured heavily, and in such an unsettling role. Tonight, she prays for a dreamless sleep.

She is successful, for a time.

Sometime during the night she is awoken by Umidori crawling in with her, no longer glassy-eyed. "They're very loud," she whispers when she is settled. "I can't sleep."

Hinata doesn't know what to say. "Have you tried…do you know if you can block them out?"

Umidori shakes her head. "They need me," she says matter-of-factly. "I can't shut my ears."

"Well, try to rest," Hinata murmurs, reaching out to smooth down Umidori's hair. "You can hear them just as well in your dreams." She has no idea if this is true, if Umidori is just disturbed, or if spirits really do talk to her. And if they do, whether they can reach her in dreams. But it seems like the right thing to say. Umidori closes her eyes momentarily, but then opens them wide.

"Do you want me to read you again?" she asks earnestly.

Hinata stifles a yawn badly. "I thought you already saw my tomorrow."

"Tomorrow is always changing," Umidori says seriously.

Humming, Hinata nods, closes her eyes. She still doesn't know quite what to make of Umidori's last "reading". It was very…creative. She's a gifted storyteller. Or, if she is to be believed, an oracle. Whichever, Hinata will indulge her again.

The sound of Umidori's voice lulls Hinata enough that she has to strain through near-sleep to hear the words. "The shadow's prisoner is screaming, but no one listens, and no one can touch. A gift waits in the dark – the lips must receive it, the blood must carry it, and the skin must let it spill. Already the sea churns, and there is not much time. Two there are, one will there be. Three must be born again to stop the first, but one is missing, and two are lost."

Hinata cracks one eye open. Again, the imagery is ominous and confusing. Hinata wonders if Umidori has ever had a happy reading. "Tomorrow sounds bleak, Umidori," she mumbles.

"It's his fault," the girl says, but if she says anything else, Hinata doesn't hear it. She is dreaming.

"You did this," someone is saying. Hinata takes a moment to register. There's blood. Everywhere. It's splattered all across the walls, even the ceiling, and there's so much on the floor that a single puddle has formed. In fact she's standing in it. And she can feel it elsewhere, dried flecks across her face and hands. She looks down, and finds copious bloodstains on her jacket and pants. Some of it is still warm. None of it is hers.

She turns around, frowning. Tears are gathering in the corners of her eyes. "I know."

"So clean it up." Sasuke kicks at a discarded sword, and it sloshes through the blood puddle, sending a miniature tidal wave toward her feet.

"I don't have a broom," she says.

He touches her chin, and she has only a second to wonder how he got so close. He leaves a lukewarm, wet smear of blood on her jawline, and she sees that his hands are dripping with it. His clothing is in worse shape than hers, and his face, too, has a smattering of blood droplets. They make her think, absurdly, of macabre freckles.

"You're going to have to find a way," he says.

She wipes at her eyes, smearing blood across them. "I can't do it. You killed too many." There are no corpses, and the room is nondescript, but somehow she knows, without a doubt, that all the blood belongs to the Kubochi clan leaders.

"I got rid of the bodies. The blood is your job."

"Where's Shikamaru?" she asks, looking around.

Sasuke shrugs. "The blood is your job," he repeats.

She touches the sliding door nearest to her, noting that the bamboo patterned paper is unsalvageable. "What's behind this door?"

"Yesterday," Sasuke says. "Don't open it."

She does. Blood comes rushing in, a red tide that laps at her ankles. She shudders. It's thick, viscous, cold. It's the most unpleasant thing she's ever felt. And still it comes, more, rising to her calves, then her knees.

They both stand there, watching it pour in. "I didn't think you'd like it," Sasuke mentions. "You'll have to clean this up too."

Hinata nods, watching the blood creep up her thighs. It's only fair.

Once upon a time, Sasuke had dreams of the future. All of them ended with Itachi's blood on his blade. Now, he dreams only of the past.

Sasuke is sixteen and increasingly numb when Karin crawls to him, biting her lip.

"I'm cold," she whispers, a hint of whine behind it. Karin has nearly perfected this tone, this hushed plea dripping with sex. Her glasses are gone, hanging off the v of her slightly unzipped shirt. They pull the fabric down, and in this position Sasuke can into the dark, shadowy space between shirt and skin, between her breasts.

She wants him, in the way that women have always wanted him, for the same reasons that women have always wanted him. It's not a new idea, what she hinted at in the past and is now overtly suggesting. He's already considered it. But why waste a perfectly good tracker. "Get a blanket," he says.

Her cheeks are flushed, the tiniest bit. They always are whenever they are alone, whenever she talks to him like this. A long time ago, another bright-haired kunoichi blushed to talk to him. "I have a blanket, but…I can't get warm." She sits back on her heels, arches her back slightly, pushing out her chest. "I thought maybe we could share body heat…?" Most of what Karin does and says is practiced, enticing by design. In that way she's like his first partner, the whore, but of course the whore didn't get attached.

He does not actively want a particular woman, has not given much thought as to what his ideal would be, but knows it would not be Karin. There are a multitude of reasons, the main one being she's infatuated with him. Like all girls similarly afflicted, she will be disappointed and weepy when he does not change for her. When he does not stay for her.

Maybe it's the outstanding similarities, or maybe he's feeling nostalgic, but his thoughts keep returning to Sakura.

Everyone expected them to end up together, except the dobe who held out some stupid hope he might get the girl in the end. Even Sasuke had thought at one point that he might give in and be with her someday, just because he could and she was there and willing and it would be simple and uncomplicated. They already knew each other, after all, as well as children could. But those were half-formed, thoughtless ideas from a time before he relearned his purpose.

Those plans blew away in the wind the night he left Konoha and left Sakura on a bench.

It had been the first time he'd laid a hand on her intending to inflict damage. It was different than hitting Naruto. She hadn't defended herself. He had stood looking at her for a moment, crumpled on the ground, and felt the world shift under him.

The memories don't feel like his, mainly because who he is now has little to do with who he was then. There's no reason to hold himself to promises he made when he was a Konoha shinobi, when he still thought he might be able to live that life. His attachment to Sakura, to Naruto, is broken.

"You're always so warm," Karin is saying, almost reverently. "And your chakra is so…cool…" she breathes the last part.

Sasuke, lost in thought, had almost forgotten she was there. He looks at her fully for the first time since she approached him, and she appears to swoon a bit. "Go to bed, Karin. We're traveling tomorrow."

Her shoulders slump marginally, and her face falls. "Okay," she whispers, resigned, no sexy whine to her voice now. She crawls back to her sleeping mat and curls up, facing away from him. He wonders briefly if she's crying.

He wouldn't care if she was. There was a time in his life where he would have. He still might not have done anything about it, but he would have felt a measure of guilt for causing it. Now there's nothing.

And there will be nothing, until he kills Itachi. Until he serves his purpose. Until then, he has no use for friends or lovers.

Shikamaru is grateful to see land. The ocean view only holds so much appeal, and it'll be too soon before he sees another deck of Hanafuda cards. When they step off the ship onto dry land at last, he finds comfort in the solid, unmoving earth under him. While the crew is unloading cargo, Sencho sees them off. "I'll expect you back here in a week," he tells them. "And I hope you have stories to tell me."

Shikamaru half-grins. "We'll be here."

The girl is genuinely sad to see them go. She hugs him first, squeezing hard, and he returns it with real affection. She's a good kid. Weird, but sweet. Interesting, with her connection to the Unclaimed Lands. She lets go of him and to his surprise, goes to hug Sasuke. The Uchiha doesn't push her away, but certainly doesn't reciprocate. The last and longest hug belongs to Hinata, who smiles and pats Umidori's head. The girl buries her face in Hinata's collar, much like she did when they first met. For whatever reason, Umidori has latched onto her. Maybe it's a desire for female company, or maybe Hinata just has that effect on kids. She was always the most gentle and caring of their age group. It's not the first time Shikamaru has thought she'd make a good mother.

In fact, back when he'd wanted a quiet, normal life with a quiet, normal wife, she was the first person that came to mind. She's the least threatening girl he knows, shinobi or civilian, and probably the nicest. While she doesn't quite meet his description of "plain", she's not so beautiful as to cause problems.

That's not what he really wants anymore, though. He thinks he might like his women a little more feisty. A little more of a challenge. Someone who will stand up to him and give him hell once in a while. Tell him to act like a man. Just in general, of course. He doesn't have a certain woman in mind.

"Shikamaru," Hinata murmurs so no one else can hear, "you're blushing."

He grimaces at the amusement in her voice, scratches the back of his head. "No I'm not."

Umidori steps away from Hinata, scrutinizes him. A grin blossoms on her face. "You are," she says cheerfully. "Red like a desert sunrise."

Before Shikamaru can properly register his shock, Sencho is ushering Umidori away. "All right, seabird, they have to be on their way, and you have to get ready to leave. You'll see them soon." She skips back up the gangplank, waving at them once she reaches the top. The captain chuckles. "It's a day's walk to the Tani camp, but I'll bet you three can make it there in two hours. You know the way?"

Shikamaru shoulders his bag, hoping his face is not still red. "They included a map with their missive."

"Excellent. Safe travels, then." His expression turns serious. "If for any reason you're late, I'll wait an extra day for you, but I can't delay any longer than that."

"We understand," Hinata says. "We'll try our best." She smiles, but it's got something of a wince to it. Shikamaru will ask about it later. A kind of fond exasperation overtakes him; she's much more fragile, emotionally, than a kunoichi ought to be. But she's still his teammate. He's kind of attached to her now, her practical but idealogical nature and her short bursts of playfulness.

"I don't doubt it, girl. If anyone can help those poor bastards, it's you three. Now," Sencho claps his hands, "off with you."

They thank him for his generosity, which he waves away good-naturedly, and then they depart, heading north from the bustling port town.

It turns out Shikamaru doesn't need to ask Hinata what's on her mind. She tells him everything without words.

Sasuke knows she's looking at him the way he knows when an attack is coming, the way he knows the handle of his blade; both instinctual and learned. She wants him, in the way that women have always wanted him.

They are resting for a few minutes while Shikamaru studies the crude map they were given. The small outcropping of rocks provides at least some cover on this seemingly endless prairie. Sasuke leans against the biggest rock, scouting the horizon. Hinata sits across from him, next to Shikamaru, who is trying to gauge their location. But of course their team leader isn't solely focused on directions.

Shikamaru is looking too. Assessing the situation, like any good analyst would. And Shikamaru is better than good. Surely he's already picked apart Hinata's mannerisms and drawn his own conclusions. Unfortunately, for all his talent at reading facial expressions and body language, he can't read minds. He will get nothing from Sasuke.

Usually Hinata looks elsewhere. He takes her wariness as a victory, a sign that he is affecting her, but this is much better. He waits until Shikamaru has refocused his attention on the map, and catches her just as she's glancing at him again. When his eyes meet hers, she looks away quickly, a balled fist coming up to her mouth so she can hide behind it. She looks like he just suggested something sordid, something disgusting. Her maidenly distress draws something up from inside him, dark and gnawing.

.:No Hinata, you wanted this, you looked at me, you can't take it back no matter how hard you blush:.

And as if she's heard him, her eyes are drawn back to his, shy, looking at him from under her lashes. If he didn't know better, if he didn't know she was entirely incapable of it, he might have called the look coy. She holds his stare for as long as she can, almost as if she is challenging him. No. Challenging herself. Ultimately it is too much for her, and she looks away, a telltale flush to her cheeks. The dark thing snarls.

Under her timidity and hesitancy she has a backbone, some secret strength that only manifests when she is trying to prove something to herself. Her small displays of willpower and decisiveness are unexplainably alluring. The depth of his want surprises him. It's not time, but he wants her taste again, tea and cream and innocence.

Not yet. Soon.

As the three shinobi move northeast, the fog that plagued the coastal town moves directly eastward, roiling and writhing like a living thing. The woman enveloped within it is cheerful, almost twirling out of the way of obstructions, leaping over rocks and holes. The naginata strapped to her back is heavy, but it is a happy burden. Their task is complete and they are one step closer. Already, she thinks she is different, can feel the change under her skin, dancing along her nerves, twining itself through sinew and bone and blood. She is more than she was. She is beyond.

Soon, she thinks with elation soaring under her breast, they will be one.

Me: Suspicious things are happening here. Everyone has their own diabolical plans…maybe even Umidori! DUN DUN DUN. Review, pretty please with a cherry on top.