| Can't Choose Your Family [closed to Haruichi & Hiashi] |
[Oct. 4th, 2008|01:19 am] |
[takes place in early March]
Night was coming on fast, and Haruichi only wished it could move faster. Ripples of leaden cloud masked the moon and starlight as they had hidden the sunset, heavy with water not yet frozen to snow. Winter was turning to spring and the weather's unhappiness at the transition was well illustrated by the ominous bent of the atmosphere, something Haruichi couldn't help but notice as he skimmed across rooftops on his way to the last place he wanted to spend his Monday night.
Perhaps that was being cruel to the Blue Orchid, the place did have fantastic wonton soup. The problem wasn't the setting, it was the meeting. In particular, the company.
On cue with that thought, a flash of dull lightning flared behind the clouds above Konohagakure. Thunder followed.
Haruichi paused on the narrow rim of a chimney pot, felt the air sigh down over him, and closed his eyes. Two seconds later the rain's race with gravity was won and thick, cold drops burst over the green curse seal etched above his eyebrows. For that moment his head didn't hurt, and his mind was free. He exhaled, very quietly told himself that Hoshi would be waiting at home when he got back, and took off running again.
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He managed to avoid the gurgling gutters and swelling puddles that had formed in the five minutes it took to get to the restaurant/bar. Torrential downpour seemed to be the order of the evening. With a dash of menacing thunder and lightning.
Haruichi told himself he didn't believe in pathetic fallacy, and he'd lived by the motto 'screw signs and portents' for twenty-one years... and even then, he already had a bad feeling about what was going to happen when he walked in the second-storey door to one of Konoha's most secluded and excellent eateries and bars.
Family was like that, he supposed.
He found his cousin with minimal effort (it was never hard to spot a Hyuuga, especially when you were a Hyuuga) and Haruichi paused just outside the secluded booth in which his mother's brother's son waited.
White eyes met white for a moment, and then Haruichi shifted his away. "Hiashi-sama," he said quietly. The Blue Orchid was typically a genteel and subdued establishment - but it should never be thought of as sleepy or quiet. Patrons came here for excellent meals and quiet, private conversation away from other eyes. The lighting was low, tinged deep blue between the tables and lit by meticulous candlelight at the bar and upon each table. The booths were dark blue leather, high backed and capable of sitting six.
Hiashi had the most private and plush of them all entirely to himself, and it looked like he wouldn't mind it staying that way.
"Dear gods, Haruichi - did you swim here?"
"Through an ocean, Hiashi-sama, and just because you called."
A familiar unamused look flicked through Hiashi's eyes, and he tilted his head just slightly. Haruichi sat as he'd just been told to, feeling a premature prickling in his curse seal as his wet clothes settled againt the still leather. Water dripped from Haruichi's hair in small flecks, prompting him to run his fingers through it to keep it out of his eyes.
"You look ridiculous with your hair cut short," Hiashi informed him, lifting a precise hand to summon a server - who arrived with two bowls of wanton soup and a bottle of sake in an instant.
Haruichi didn't look away from Hiashi as the items were set down, but didn't precisely meet his eyes either. "I look even more ridiculous when a homicidal shinobi can seize my hair and hang me by it, but that is entirely neither here nor there." The younger Hyuuga loosened his tie slightly, the dark blue material dripping just slightly with the motion. Not that one could tell, given that his shirt was uniformly soaked and appeared to be one extremely damp shade of gray.
Hiashi watched him, then paused, having appraised Haruichi and as always found him wanting. "I am amazed they let you in here looking like that."
"Perhaps they took note of the fact that I'm a doctor and decided to accord me some respect based on things besides my appearance," Haruichi shot back, finally noticing that there was food on the table - and furthermore, his favourite kind. His stomach nearly squeaked.
Hiashi's voice was supremely disinterested. "Oh yes. Congratulations on completing the final medical boards." A sip was taken of his sake. "When was that again?"
"An hour and a half ago, Hiashi-sama. Don't think I dressed myself up for your benefit."
A sophisticated snort greeted that remark. Hiashi lifted his sake cup and shifted his eyes subtly towards Haruichi's hand, which had entirely unconsciously peeked up to rest on the edge of the table next to his spoon. "Eat something, Haruichi. You doubtless still have that habit of starving yourself before major assessments. I would rather you didn't pass out with your face in a soup bowl, it's embarassing enough to be seen with you as it is."
Spots of colour flecked Haruichi's pale cheeks, and his white eyes finally snapped forcefully up to push back against the pressure in Hiashi's confident gaze. In that silent, invisible contest of spirit Haruichi was reminded in an instant that Hiashi was the superior Hyuuga, the strongest of their warriors, and the most iron-willed of their sacred clan.
Hiashi was reminded that his younger cousin still didn't give a damn about any of that. Also that Haruichi greatly resembled his mother. The pang of notalgia was unexpected; the reaction from his cousin was not.
Lowering his cup, Hiashi's dark eyebrows raised just slightly. About time.
Haruichi picked up his spoon, "Bite me, Hiashi."
"And listen to that guttermouth you've picked up from your little friends."
Haruichi didn't need to have ears to hear the way Hiashi said that like he'd refer to a veneral disease. His eyes flitted firmly to fit his senior's gaze. "I've picked up some creative hand gestures as well, if you're interested."
The Hyuuga Clan patriarch gave him an oblique, superior look. "I've still got the same one, so unless you want to wind up face down in that bowl anyway shut up and eat."
Haruichi's hackles shot up, a snarl in his eyes. Hiashi remained calmly composed. Always it had amazed him that his little cousin would tread fearfully around the Clan's positions of power out of respect for tradition, but react with outright spine at the reality of their ability to kill him with a moment's concentration and a twitch of the fingers. Priorities, realistic Hyuuga priorities, never had been something Haruichi understood.
It made him dangerous. And different. Part of sending him away had been to ensure he'd never know how much so. Hiashi felt no guilt over that. There were other things to feel.
"Didn't your parents teach you that threatening to kill your dinner companions before the main course is simply bad form?" Haruichi sniped, recovering in an instant what any real Branch member would have silently let pass.
Hiashi felt his lips twitch into a smirk. Coldly amused. "No, only that actually doing it constituted a faux pas." He looked at Haruichi with a reptillian sort of calm, thoughts of the past and faces long dead excised from his mind without a trace as he continued. "Though I think given that it's you, Haruichi, I would be easily forgiven."
Returned to familiar antagonistic ground, the pair ate in silence. The wonton soup was excellent, as always.
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[part 1 of 4, to be continuted ASAP!] |
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restless