Chapter Text
She can still feel the aggravation piercing white-hot through her veins as they leave the Hokage’s office.
Not even five minutes into their arrival, he turned his chair around to face the window. (Because in the end, she knows. He doesn’t really have the guts to face her.)
Still, all went according to their plan. She knew they got him once that facade, his professionalism, cracked, and he turned around and stood. Always, always trying to use his ridiculous height to his advantage. (As if his stature is enough to make her weak?)
Her eyes can see though all of it, all of him, in just a single glance. He’s always chasing after lofty ideals, after things he doesn’t and can’t have, and now. Now it sickens her. How he tries to use others in the name of cooperation and an optimistic future for his own personal gain.
So he raises the property tax, knowing, knowing it will affect her clan the most. Does her family not already serve the village with their very flesh and blood? Are they not the treasured secret of Konoha? The most desired, loyal allied clan of any hidden village?
Everyone else sees him as such an honest, hardworking man. Sincere and transparent to the bone.
But she knows the truth.
Hanabi giggles, and they both don’t fail to notice how men turn, their eyes following them through the village. “Oh Nee-sama, if looks could kill, you’d have our Nanadaime begging for his life.”
“If only,” she huffs. “His ego would never allow it. I’m sure he’d fall over dead before admitting that he’s dying.”
Her younger sister outright laughs, her cackle high like bells. “And they all say ‘he’s selfless.’ You’re the only one who hates him so.”
"You know I can’t stand men like him. Saying one thing when he wants or means something else.”
“Hmm? You mean his goal isn't actually just to raise our taxes?”
“Of course not. I told you before. He’s just trying to waste our time.”
Hanabi raises one angled brow high. “What does he really want, then?”
She rolls her eyes, and a memory of his gaze trailing down the deep plunge of her neckline flashes through her memory. “Heaven knows.”
But she knows the truth.
*
Not even half a year later, and they’re back again. Negotiating tax policy again.
His brow furrows when they breeze in, his features intentionally schooled. Each slight shift of his eyes, however unnoticeable to an untrained observer, but her eyes never miss a thing.
“What is the meaning of this?” Hanabi digs in. “We told you we won’t stand for this! Our clan can’t help the fact that we settled here earlier than everyone else. You said you would raise hotel and other visitor accommodation taxes!”
He sighs, gaze averting, as if he really doesn’t have the time to be bothered by their complaints. “And as I’ve said before, tax rates are not entirely up to me. The daimyo demands more funds for infrastructure efforts across the nation. We all need to do our part as the wealthiest village.”
Hinata steps forward.
His gaze, hardening, tracks back to her, and it’s this stubborn expression of his that she loathes.
She takes care to lean slowly over his desk, to push stacks of papers on the side just to make ample room for her trespass, and, especially, to see that slight look of annoyance curl underneath his “Hokage mask.” She sees the hard tension in his throat, like he’s about to snap just from her proximity, but, oh, no, it’s too late for him to swivel his little chair around. No, not this time. In a low whisper, she asks, “You suggest that we, the Hyuuga, are not doing our part?”
Blue storms against her own glare. His jaw remains locked. He’s not backing down, but he’s not defending himself, either, and she can imagine chipping into his very skin, slicing into the sinews of his frame until it all peels away…
Uzumaki Naruto, without the stupid titles that he wears to validate his existence.
“Hokage-sama?” she coos, and it’s with great satisfaction to see how much he hates it when she calls him that. Once upon a time, perhaps not so long ago, she called him much differently, but simple sentimentality doesn’t forgive the empty shell he’s become today, a thin imitation of who he used to be. “I give you my body, my life of service, and that’s still not enough?”
Discord stews within his eyes, then uncertainty flashes plain as day across his expression, and within only a fraction of a second she remembers throwing herself between a pinned boy and a monster.
She laughs aloud, abruptly standing straight, and turns around to face Hanabi.
Her sister looks too amused by the rather overtly flirtatious exchange, and she’s secretly relieved that it appeared as only that.
Not an unwelcome trip down memory lane, just the burnt scent of smoke, doused flames, between two never-could-be’s.
“Hanabi, we’re done here.” She hooks arms with her little sister and leads them back to the door. A glance cast over her shoulder, and she’s only angrier at the sad man he’s become. “The Hyuuga clan does not agree to your terms. Change them.”
Hanabi is turning the handle when he interrupts their exit.
“Hinata, you know that you’ve done more than enough.” His voice, low, is pitiful, and for a wild moment, she thinks to argue.
Never would she hold that time over his head. Never would she ever think to guilt-trip him into favoring her clan, and so, she stands taller, intent on reframing this entire conversation as best she can. “Well, that’s new,” she jokes in her sister’s direction. “With the way these men carry on, I’ve been led to think they could never get enough of me.”
Hanabi’s jaw drops, and her hand flies up in mock modesty. “Nee-sama!” she practically squeals.
She indulges Hanabi with a knowing smile. “Let’s go.”
“Wait, Hinata-”
“See?” she sighs in exaggerated exasperation. “Hokage-sama, you can have more of me the next time you try to raise our taxes. We have other, more important matters to attend to now. Good bye.”
“Hinata, I’m seri-”
Shutting the door solidly, she tries to leave the ashes of her feelings behind, too.
She knows…
He’s too proud to pick them up anyway.