Naruto 1. Toy

Disclaimer: Naruto's not mine.

Summary: In which professional bodyguard Hyuuga Neji finds himself falling into a web of deceit, murder, and eventually, love.

* * *

><p>"Let me touch you," she breathes seductively as her stygian, knifelike nails graze along my cheek. I note the unpleasantly thick layer of powder and glitter upon her face. As if they infiltrated my thoughts, her eyes flicker threateningly and meet my criticizing gaze. "I'm going to blush if you keep staring."<p>

"Lead the way."

"I will," her forefinger traces my lips as she answers playfully, "but he said I should service you a bit beforehand—"

"No."

"You don't have to be so shy," the mature woman says, wearing a deceitful pout on her crimson mouth. I step past her evadingly and walk down the somberly obsidian hallway. I make a left.

"Wrong," she chimes from behind, and laughs.

Moments later, once she agrees to discontinue her unneeded affection, I let her lead me deeper into the monumental residence. "Here," my temporary accompaniment says as the hallway intersects a grandiose oak door, inserting a black key into the knob. She produces a _click_ and makes her way back to the complex's entrance. "I'm looking forward to playing with you again."

I silently reject her offer and open the door.

* * *

><p>"Hyuuga Neji!" A handsome man with messily groomed hair and hypnotic, charcoal eyes advances toward me with a polite salutation.<p>

I return the greeting with a nod. "Uchiha Sasuke."

"Was she to your liking?" He watches me with a prurient gaze as his feet step toward mine.

I ask calmly, "Who is she?"

"Interested?"

"No."

"That's a shame." A sly smirk plays its way onto the man's lips. "No.7 is one of my most valuable prostitutes." He brings his body closer to mine and whispers into my ear, "I'll let you take her for a ride."

"I'll pass." My eyes bore into his as I mentally warn him to refrain from needlessly touching me.

"My, my, have your techniques gotten a bit rusty, Hyuuga?" he wonders with a whimsical tone. "Would you like me to polish them for you?"

"Did you call me here with only this in mind?" I brush him off with evident disdain.

"No." His lips form a disappointed line. "I bought a new toy," he begins. "But I can't help but feel that it needs a bit," Sasuke pauses to search for the appropriate term, "a bit _improvement_."

"Where is it?"

He doesn't answer and instead, weaves toward the windows located behind him and drags their velvet curtains shut. "Mind doing those as well?" I follow the direction in which his finger points and pull the curtains from each end slowly together, but let a little light escape from between.

"_Completely_," Sasuke orders.

Narrowing my eyes suspiciously at the man, I comply. At once, the room is painted melancholic black. He returns to his desk, which dons a small red button in the center, and presses it. Once a microphone appears from the desk's surface, he speaks into it, "Bring it in."

Momentarily, a servile fist knocks on the wooden door, letting itself in after three knocks. A blonde man clothed in a black silky suit, one of the Uchiha's guards I assume, escorts a young girl in. He flicks on the light switch attached on the wall beside him, and a white brightness envelopes each corner of the room.

My observation of the 'toy' takes a second or two. There isn't much to observe.

With dull brown hair and equally dull brown undergarments, the girl appears rather…

"As you can see, No.10 looks a bit _dull_." Sasuke clears his throat softly. "But as we all know, looks can be deceiving."

My eyes flicker casually over to meet Sasuke's face as I grow faintly intrigued.

"No.10 is gifted with severe promiscuity, vulgarity, and slight anorexia. Diagnosed with," he stops as his eyes dance toward the curtains, "heliophobia." **(1)**

"Heliophobia?" My curiosity minutely triggered, I eye the girl again, and notice that her skin is indeed unusually pale. "What is her name?"

Sasuke cocks his left eyebrow. "No.10, isn't it?"

I return the gesture with my right. "Her birth name, I meant."

"I don't know."

With her head slightly down, bundle of hair carelessly disheveled, eyes peacefully closed, and lanky arms lifeless at her sides, she looks perfectly dead. "What is your name?" I hesitate to reach my hand toward her, but decide to nevertheless. My thumb and forefinger search for her chin and raise it slightly, adjusting her eye level to satisfy mine.

"What is your—"

My words are mercilessly cut through as a violent interruption catches me off guard.

The woman opens her menacing pair of amber eyes, injecting an expression of heavy lust into me, and snakes a thin leg around mine, twisting it at an angle that allows her to rid me of my sense of balance and push me down to the marble floor. Sitting comfortably on top of me with her thighs provokingly straddled around my hips, the girl brings her trembling arms down my fully clothed torso and feverishly gropes my loosely fastened belt. She giggles in delight and as the belt slips off, makes an attempt to unzip my pants.

Fortunately, I manage to restrain her excited wrists in my hands, pressuring the fragile area of her carpal bones, with the solid intention of hurting her. No.10 screams in discontent and struggles violently atop my abdominal region, eventually resorting to foul decorum. "Fuck you," she shrieks and maliciously spits in my face.

In a brief moment, No.10's lustful body is pried off mine, despite her disappointed grunts, by the same black-adorned man who brought her in earlier. For a stagnant second, my mind struggles to pull itself out of the bewildered state that had overcome me. I retrieve my belt with heavy vexation and scowl treacherously in Sasuke's direction, demanding for an explanation.

"Just an animal in heat." He chuckles, kneeling beside me with a handkerchief in hand, and wipes the woman's saliva off my face.

"I assumed you were aware that this _animal _is of your responsibility." I push his hand away, and wipe the remaining dribble of No.10's bacteria from my cheek myself as I welcome a thin thread of anger rising within me. "It would be a good idea to have your women properly trained, wouldn't it?"

"I think it would be a splendid idea." His eyes lock with mine. "And that's specifically why I called you here."

I narrow my eyes in cynicism. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"I have a job for you."

"I'm not interested."

Sasuke's eyes twinkle with transgression. "Oh, but I'm paying fifty."

"Fifty?" My suspicion rises to its maximum. "If I'm not mistaken, the only jobs you pay fifty grand for involve potentially precarious tasks."

"Correct," he replies with a devilish smirk. "But in this case, it's fifty _million_." My eyes widens infinitesimally in bewilderment. "Interested yet?" I'm not entirely sure and took several moments to contemplate.

"Background information?"

"Hm…" Sasuke clicks his tongue in thought. "I believe she's Chinese."

I expect a more extensive biography and allow the Uchiha many seconds to continue, but a disappointing silence follows. "Is that all?"

"I'm afraid so," Sasuke remarks objectively. "Her records are empty."

"And that doesn't that strike you as a bit odd?"

"It strikes me as a _lot_ odd, Hyuuga," he returns readily, "but that won't help me get the job done." He brushes a strand of hair away from his eyes. "Trust me, No.10 isn't as…" Sasuke spends a second to think up the right adjective, "fucked up as she appears to be. Despite her remarkably high level of promiscuity, I believe that you are more than capable of handling a harmless job like this."

My eyebrows furrow in skepticism. "One wouldn't usually describe a job paying fifty million as _harmless_, Uchiha."

He shrugs. "Companionship can go for a pretty price these days."

"Companionship?" I echo.

"Yes. I want you to keep her company." Sasuke raises an upright forefinger to build up suspense. "But that's not all."

I exhale with thinning patience.

"I want you to discipline her."

"…Pardon?"

"I plan to sell a fraction of my dolls, including No.10, at an auction event in August." He strolls back to his desk to fetch a calendar book. "That leaves me approximately two and a half months to have this animal transformed into a refined, desirable, and well-behaved prostitute."

A contradictory statement indeed. "And how exactly do you expect me to help you with that?"

"Reject each and every one of her sexual advances."

My left eyebrow lifts with inquiry. "Will that alone accomplish perfect behavior in ten weeks?"

"It will help her build abstinence," Sasuke says with a smile.

I suppress any outward reaction as I inwardly battle my options with indecisiveness. For reference, I divert my attention back to No.10. Her senses seem to have returned to normal, but her sharp gaze remains fixated on me. Though we labeled her as dull in appearance earlier, something I'm only beginning to notice now threatens to counter our careless classification. Her eyes. The poisonous, chocolate drops look as if they were trying to tell me something she can't bring herself to say out loud.

"No.5," Sasuke says to the blonde man constricting No.10. "Clothe it. Bring the sunglasses and umbrella."

The man obeys. "Excuse us," he recited, and drags, with a bit of trouble, No.10 across the marble pavement and out the door.

Once again, I am caught off guard, invisibly of course, with surprise. "No. 5?"

"Yes." Sasuke's concern recoils to me. "He's my best gigolo," he boasts quite pompously.

I stare blankly at him, noting his high level of indecency.

"Anyway, where were we?"

An answer from me isn't needed.

"Oh, yes. The job." He scratches his neck lazily. "You don't _have _to take it." Conveniently descended onto his scarlet chaise longue, he rotates to face me. "I understand if you can't handle a task as _frightening _as this," he challenges with mischievous articulation.

Much to my chagrin, his remark successfully threatens to destroy a fragment of my ego. "That simply proves how significantly _shallow_ your level of understanding is," I respond.

"Oh? Then, I hope you wouldn't mind making it clear enough for this _incompetent_ man to understand."

A grimace plants itself on my face as I rub my temples in deep thought. Fifty million. Fifty million would bring quite a handful of benefits to the Hyuuga prestige.

I clear my throat lightly. "A ten percent down payment?"

Sasuke can no longer conceal his satisfactory grin. "I'm more than happy to give you _fifteen_, Hyuuga."

I inhale sharply. "When does the job start?"

"How about now?"

"_Now_?"

"I don't see why not," he remarks bluntly.

A soft exasperated sigh escapes my lips as I nodded in acquiescence. "I'm assuming you've already prepared an extra set of keys to your mansion."

"What do you mean?"

"A set of keys for me is what I mean."

"Why would you need them?" Sasuke asks, but a grin appears shortly. "In case you feel lonely and yearn for my—?"

"No." I swallow my impatience. "It would be more convenient if I were able to attend to my job by myself, don't you think?"

"What makes you so sure that the designated location of your job is in my mansion?"

I frown. "Is it not?"

"It appears we have a bit of a misunderstanding, Hyuuga," Sasuke says, with a flat laugh. "I don't plan on keeping her here."

"Then—"

"What better place to provide No.10 the warmest of hospitality and the best of accommodation than in your own home?" the Uchiha intersects rather curtly, with an equally curt smile.

I feel my face melt into a dumbfounded state, and forget to put effort into masking it. "...We'll be _living_ together?"

"Just for ten weeks, Hyuuga. I think even _you_ can survive," he reassures, his tone dripping of black humor.

A clever retort is ready to slide off my tongue, but a series of quiet door knocks make an intrusion. No.5, along with another gloomily dressed unit, whose pink hair mismatched the outfit quite well, yank No.10 in. Her skin now wears marks of light rose that I don't remember noticing the last time she was in the room. Another repulsively unnecessary body cosmetic, I assume.

"It's ready," says No.5, with an umbrella at his side.

Sasuke rises from his resting posture and dragged his feet up. "Looks like you two better get going, Hyuuga."

"Already?"

"Yes." He glances at his luxury watch. "I have important business to attend to."

"Shouldn't we discuss the job in greater detail?" I can't help but feel a substantial lack of explanation sitting in front of me.

Sasuke shoots me a flat look. "What else are you unclear about?" He then points at his personnel. "No.5 and No.6 will answer any further questions. Use them." The pair greets me with subservient nods. "Get going. No.5, control the monster. No.6 , you'll drive." The duo bob their heads obediently again.

I shift my view to No.10, feeling that _monster_ is a bit of an exaggeration, despite falling victim to her hormonal excitement earlier. She has made not even the slightest tint of noise since her re-entrance to the room. I inwardly hope that she could remain that way for ten weeks straight.

"I wish you good luck," Sasuke mutters with a demonically altered grin.

I nod farewell, and step toward the door, with the three underlings following. "I won't need it."

* * *

><p><strong>(1) Heliophobia <strong>- Fear of the sun.


	2. Sun

The journey from the Uchiha mansion to the Hyuuga compound progresses effortlessly at first, courtesy of Sasuke's indoor garage and underground pathways of unbelieving darkness. However, once No.6 steers the vehicle into my residence and parks in the nonexistent parking lot, the situation becomes a bit problematic. The sun simply won't set, though given the due time, so we choose to sit and wait patiently in the car until it does.

Fortunately, No.10—with her arms tied behind her back in rough rope for safety measures and her body wrapped in black strips of protective cloth—seems to doze off. Unfortunately, however, No.5 informs us of his urgent need to pay the restroom a visit. No.6 panics, as composed as one possibly can, and orders No.5 to not by any means release any form of liquid in their master's car.

"But I really need to go," the blonde notifies as a trace of emotion overcomes his features for the first time. "Really."

No.6 closes her green eyes, and thinks. After engaging in a mental conversation with her insightful inner self, she opens the pair of emeralds. "Hyuuga-san, how far are we from the nearest restroom?"

I calculate for a split second before replying, "A four-minute walk, approximately."

No.6 faces No.5. "Can you hold it?" The two engage in a silent exchange of thoughts and soon, they both turn to me. "I am sorry for the inconvenience, Hyuuga-san," No.6 speaks with apologetic respect. "but we must operate as quickly as possible."

I say with an understanding blink, "That's unfortunate."

"Hyuuga-san, please carry Number Ten into your estate. Number Five will hold the umbrella according to your trajectory." No.6 gently slides black, impenetrable glasses onto the sleeping face of No.10. They hide her eyes well.

I can't swallow the need to oppose. "I'm certain she is capable of moving on her own." I extend a hand toward the girl, intending to end her slumber.

No.5's hand stops mine. "Don't. There's a possibility that she will try to escape once she gains consciousness."

"And how high is the possibility of her succeeding?" The rope around the girl's arms emphasizes my point.

"…Not very, I suppose."

I arch an eyebrow with dense defiance. "Then there's no need in carrying her." I proceed to awaken No.10 and alight near her shoulder gently.

"Wait." A hand intercepts again.

Annoyance builds within me. "What?"

But I catch something in his eyes. Something I certainly didn't expect the Uchiha's most prized male asset to hold. Something that indeed contradicts the way the man was able to handle No.10 audaciously in Sasuke's meeting room earlier.

Fear.

"Transporting her instead of allowing Number Ten to walk herself would take less time," he tries to explain. "And my bladder—"

"Alright. I understand." I'm not very eager to hear about his excretion predicament. "…I'll carry her."

Almost immediately, No.5's blue eyes burst with glee. I just hope his urination didn't do the same.

"Ready?" No.6 asks patiently and faces us from the front passenger seat. I search for any signs of fright in her eyes as well. There aren't any, it seemed. At least, not yet.

Five passes her a courageous nod and wraps his left fist around the umbrella's handle, almost as a soldier entering a battle of life and death normally would. I pass her the same gesture, except with less glory.

Given that, No.6 presses the power door lock affirmatively. "Let's move."

* * *

><p>Although I prefer not to admit it, the precautions we're required to undergo for the sake of guarding No.10 from the sun were exhausting. The umbrella has to be navigated at a precise angle, one sixteen degrees, to the girl's face, which is the only portion of her body that's not covered in shadowy clothing.<p>

I carry her in my arms—my right arm under her legs and my left supporting the small of her back—the way a groom would affectionately hold his bride. Except in this case, I'm not her groom, she isn't my bride, and affectionate would be the last word any sane person would use to describe No.10 and I.

Though her sleeping body is relatively light, I begin to tire and perspire under the sun's glaring beams of radiation. My shirt now clings unpleasantly to my moist skin as the proximity of No.10's head from my chest adds to the irksome hotness. The harsh rope that bounds around her body scrapes against my skin as well, which made the walk even more vexing.

My eyes shifts downwards for a split second to peer at the motionless girl. I look back up shortly.

The four-minute walk feels a hundred minutes too long, but it comes to an end. Three sets of footsteps, plus the dormant baggage in my arms, shuffle into the official Hyuuga compound.

I key the entrance gate, enter my residence and impatiently make my way into the living room. After unhanding No.10 onto a white wooden settee, I breath with a tint of repose.

Then, I turn to No.5. "The restroom's this way."

* * *

><p>"Thank you, Hyuuga-san. Uchiha-san appreciates your cooperation," Six orates and bows generously. "He hopes you'll achieve satisfying results and looks forward to meeting with you again soon."<p>

No.5 follows suit. "Thank you for granting me permission to use your bathroom."

No.6 without delay gives the blonde a well-hidden pinch on his arm.

"Oh, I mean— for, uh, carrying Number Ten," he corrects.

I explore his eyes for any remaining trace of fear, but discover nothing. "Good evening," I say.

"Wait." No.5 hands me the umbrella. "Just in case." I have no idea what he's implying but I extend my hand to accept the object. "Good evening, Hyuuga-san."

And without further adieu, they step out into the long-awaited sunset. I let my eyes follow the two as their figures wend toward their master's awaiting vehicle. Only until their bodily silhouettes minimize to shadows the size of ants do I settle to shut the door.

"They're gone," I say to the ghastly walls as I re-enter the living room. The relaxed form of No.10 lies on its side atop the couch I had previously placed her, inhaling and exhaling at odd interludes. I shift toward her and kneel down beside the furniture, paralleling my face to hers. Now that the sun is no longer interfering, I lean closer to remove the pair of spectacles from her face. "Enough pretending."

An utter stop of phantom quietness follows, a silence so thick that the only sounds produced are the conversations between the walls and No.10's anxious breaths.

But it a small moment, with a powerful lunge and clumsy shuffles of fabric, two unbounded hands outstretch themselves forcibly at me. Considering the similar tackle not even an afternoon long ago, this is not completely unexpected. I look up at No.10 with impassive, disliking eyes as I allow her arms to drive me down. A heavy _thud_ echoes against the ceiling as our bodies roughly descend to the marmoreal floor.

"How did you know I was awake?"


	3. Pink

The soothing resonance of her voice is unexpected, and she expertly catches my wordless sign of surprise before I'm able to conceal it. It triggers a tinge of amusement across her features, and a soft smile teases the corner of her lips.

My composure regains itself and speaks. "The average person of your age, when asleep, should normally take ten to fifteen breaths per minute. You took forty."

No.10's eyes illuminates with enticement at the sight of a statistic. "Maybe you should think twice before comparing me to your typical, average person then."

She leans in.

Expecting a continuation of the sexual harassment demonstrated earlier in the Uchiha's office, I'm taken slightly aback when after a fleeting instant, No.10 removes herself off me. Once her feet rise to a vertical position, she reachs a pale hand out toward me.

I evidently reject the offer, and instead narrow my eyes bitterly. "How did you manage to untie yourself?"

No.10 displays a tight smirk. "If I tell you, it will no longer be a secret," she replies dauntlessly, and retrieved her empty hand.

She begins unraveling the black circumference of cloth wrapped around each of her limbs. I set my feet perpendicular to the floor, watching her every movement with intensifying suspicion. She turns toward me with a provocative gaze. "Rather than merely _watching_ me undress, why don't you try _helping_?"

I don't bother to waste my time responding, alternatively finding myself slightly distracted by the light red spots her naked arm dons. I recall deeming them body cosmetics upon first sight, but with closer inspection, the marks more accurately resemble—

"Are these wounds that fascinating?" Her question derails my train of thought.

My scrutiny scrolls up to meet her unreadable eyes. "Not at all."

"That's too bad." She finishes revealing her other arm, which share the same crimson injuries as the other. "I was hoping to share an interesting anecdote."

My eyes flash with humble curiosity. Seeing how Sasuke hasn't provided me with any useful background information, this story of hers is more than necessary. "Do what you want."

A twinkle of mirth tickles her orbs of sick amber. "Well, my audience doesn't seem to be very intrigued…" No.10's voiced trails off as she rotates 180 degrees so that her back faces me. "Mind untying it?"

I want her story. "Are you injured there as well?" My hands travel up her back and linger at the small knot the two ends of her black attire intersected. I undo it with impressive ease and untangle the cloth.

"No." No.10 pulls the layers entirely separate from her upper body, exposing her fair, untouched back. "Fortunately, they were thoughtful enough to spare this area," she says.

My attention snaps with wonder. "_They_?"

No.10 nods noiselessly as she concentrates on unweaving the last bit of black material from her legs. "Naruto and Sakura."

My ears spend a moment to decide whether they have ever encountered the two names. It seemed they haven't. "I don't know them."

"That's not a surprise." No.10 stares at me collectedly. "First meetings tend to reveal very little."

At first, I haven't the slightest clue of what she was trying to imply. But in a matter of time, I realize. My eyes widen a good centimeter. "…No.5 and No.6?"

No.10 confirms it with a tad tilt of the head. "Bingo." The young woman brushes off invisible dust particles from her undergarments and points at her black costume lying messily on the floor. "Where do I dispose of these?"

I don't answer—for I don't hear her—as I absorb the unnerving, dire image before me. Her body is a story itself. Although painted with porcelain white skin, it's tainted, scarred, and scarlet with lacerations and bruises, along with partially healed scars that over time matured into a maroon pigment of dry blood. "Is this all Sasuke's doing?"

Her chocolate depths quietly analyze my lavenders. "Shh." She raises a finger to her slightly parted lips. "Master wouldn't want me to answer that." My eyebrows furrowed, and my lips quickly encourage a retort, but before I can make a sound, she does. "Ne, what's your name again?" No.10 scratches her thin arm idly, yawning. "Neji, was it?"

"Hyuuga Neji," I correct with a tint of growing irritation. Her way of steering the conversation into whichever direction she wishes was not in the least pleasant. "Returning to my previous question, did—"

"Neji-san." No.10 tilts her head back and stares absentmindedly at the ceiling. "I—" A gluttonous grumble left her stomach. "…I'm hungry."

A deep sigh escapes from me as I rub my temples, noting, with some regret, that I'm on the verge of starvation myself. "There's a supermarket near by. What would you like to eat?"

"Oh?" Her eyes twinkle amusingly. "I have a choice?"

"Forget it," I answer callously, and reach my right hand into my back pocket. "Give me your hands." No.10 doesn't comply immediately, instead observing my grim stare with her blank one. I sigh once more before I reach my free hand toward the troublesome woman. But before I'm able to successfully secure her hands in mine, she lunges back.

"Rather than going through the trouble of trying to handcuff me," she speaks evenly, "why don't you just bring me along, Neji-san?"

"No."

No.10 slants her gaze toward the windows. "Don't worry. The sun's down. It's completely dark out there—"

"Making it much easier for you to escape," I intercept. "Should that really not worry me?"

The woman smirks. "It shouldn't. You're a professional after all."

I glance at her. "Pardon?"

"You're one of the most sought-after security operatives," No.10 says as she stepped further away, toward the direction of the room's windows, "reining many state security services, as well as receiving several personal requests from top government agencies for protection." No.10 curves her body into a comfortable position on the window sill and silently waits for my reaction. When I offer none, she persists. "In other words, you're a professional bodyguard."

"What are you implying?" I question calmly.

"Nothing, really." She presses two fingers against the cold window pane, sliding them up and then down idly. "Just that I'm very, very scared of you, Neji-san." She smiles indecently.

I clear my throat. "I'm assuming you heard this extensive résumé from Sasuke."

"Yes. Master is very fond of you."

"What else did he tell you?"

"Nothing much," she brushes it off with a shrug. "But hey, about that food…"

"I'll go buy some." I step toward No.10, pulling out the set of metal handcuffs from my pocket. "Alone."

She pouts, outstretching her hands nevertheless. "Why can't we just order some take-out?"

"It's not healthy." I confine her handcuffed hands to one of the window's pillars structured specifically for restriction purposes. "Sit here until I get back."

"Do I have any other option?"

In response, I lock the handcuffs with another pair—one that is twice as thick and durable. "Try not to fall asleep."

She blinks. "Why not?"

I step out the door momentarily to retrieve a small portable radiator from the adjacent room. "It gets cold in here, even with the heater on."

"Afraid I'll get sick?" Her deviant smile irks me. "How sweet."

"The only thing worse than tending to a prostitute who emanates nothing but lust is tending to a prostitute who spews out not only lust, but bacteria and snot as well," I answer with not much hesitation.

No.10 lets out a laugh. "Charming," she remarks sarcastically. "Perhaps you should've provided me with warmer clothing then."

"I have none," I grunt. "I'll buy some on the way," I add as I step into my shoes and grab my wallet.

"Have a safe trip, Neji-san," she exclaims ardently as her eyes follow my figure out the doorway.

After locking each of the three front doors, relocking two for safety measures, double-checking each lock twice, then thrice, and finally stepping down from the doorstep, I faintly catch No.10's departing sentence, something about looking exceptionally good in pink.

I grunt again.

As if I'll be ever seen shopping for women's clothing, let alone in the color pink.


	4. Gun

About half an hour later, I'm back on Hyuuga grounds, taking leisure steps toward the grand entrance, with bags of groceries, clothes, and hygienic products all in one hand. My footsteps remain unhurried for a few seconds—that is, until I direct my sight toward the windows and realize that no body is seated at its sill. I unconsciously hold my breath in light anticipation as I search through my various pockets for the door keys. As my free hand continues to fumble through my clothing, I walk over to the window and peer into it.

I reconfirm that there is absolutely no trace of No.10's existence remaining in my living room. The black strips of clothing, the handcuffs: both gone. And apparently, so are my keys. I clench my fists anxiously.

How could she have possibly broken free? To where could she have escaped when I've meticulously secured all three front doors twice? And most importantly, what will happen to the promised fifty million once Sasuke finds out—

The windows. I didn't lock the windows.

My head shoots up with revelation. The shopping bags meet the floor with a small thud as I bring my hands toward the window pane. I exhale uneasily before pressing all fingers against the glass casements, pushing them to their right. They don't even put up a fight. There's no doubt that No.10 opened them with equal ease.

I swallow the urge to physically reprimand myself. In exactly what state of mind was I in that resulted in such recklessness? Cursing under my breath, I heave myself onto the window's outer transom. Only my left leg manages to reach the living room floor before I hear light footsteps.

"Neji!" I watch a pair of white socks come into view. "You're finally here!"

No.10 can't possibly sound this manly. I look up. And immediately regret doing so. "…Hiashi-san?"

"Good evening." The elder man eyes me with a suspicious glint. "What in the world are you doing?"

"Uh, I'm—I'm just…" I pause. "I'm just training."

Hiashi's expression turns only more severe. "By climbing through the window?" He steps closer and peeks at the bags on the ground outside. "With groceries?"

"Correct," I say. I throw my body over the window's sharp ledge and land on the marmoreal floor in the most poised manner I could manage. "It's a new warm up drill that a fellow bodyguard recommended." I bring the groceries in and slide the windows back to their closed state. I lock them.

"I see." Hiashi's frown softens. "It's good to see that you're keeping up with the latest exercise regimes."

I nod, trying my hardest to look him straight in the eye without feeling too ridiculous. "Did you wait long, Hiashi-san?" I inquire, and can't help but scan the room's interior, hoping to find a sign, any sign, of No.10's presence.

"For about twenty minutes or so," is the monotone answer. "I thought I'd check up on you, to see if you were sleeping well and eating healthy meals—but judging from those bags, you seem to be taking care of yourself just fine."

"Thank you for your concern," I reply evenly. I suppress the need to ask about whether or not he encountered an unusually pale, frail, nearly naked woman with an anorexic body of red wounds handcuffed to my window post. The more I thought about it, however, the more unlikely it—

"Neji, are you keeping a woman here?"

My back stiffens. "…I beg your pardon. I don't think I heard you correctly."

"Are you keeping a woman here?"

"No."

"The discoveries I've made in your living room dare to convince me otherwise," my elder responds with a raised eyebrow.

I gulp silently. "I'm afraid I don't follow—"

"I found handcuffs on the floor." Hiashi fetches a few objects from his pocket. "As well as black blindfolds." Something catches in my throat as I glance at the dark strips of fabric that made up No.10's earlier attire. "Neji, I understand...that you're at that age." Confusion threatens to arise upon my features, but I wait for him to continue with little expression. "Your life's at its golden age, I believe. Nevertheless, to participate…in acts of _bondage_ is simply—"

My composure almost explodes. "Hiashi-san, I assure you, I wasn't engaging in any form of—uh, sadomasochism." I somehow maintain my bland façade. "The handcuffs and blindfolds…are all part of the new routine I mentioned earlier."

"Oh." Hiashi doesn't seem very convinced. "Why did I find the cuffs around a pole then?"

"It's more of a window pillar than a pole," I explain. "It was just a method of first-level simulation."

"Ah, that makes sense." The older man nods to himself with a perceptive look. "Good."

"Are there any other important matters of discussion, Hiashi-san?"

"Oh, yes. Plenty." He takes a seat on an oriental sofa. "I have a job for you."

As if the current one wasn't enough. "I see." I stride to the far left corner of the room to retrieve a full set of vintage demitasse cups. "Do you prefer coffee or tea?"

"Coffee. Thank you." Hiashi folds his arms comfortably and allows his back to relax into the couch. "Neji, do you remember the Nara Company?"

"Nara?" I echo as I set two cups onto the wooden coffee table. "The company's the source of many important clients of yours, if I'm not mistaken."

"Yes." Hiashi takes a sip from his coffee cup before continuing. "Unfortunately, at approximately 9 PM last night, its chief executive was murdered."

I descend into the settee across from Hiashi. "Cause of death?"

"Three bullets through the brain; one through the cerebellum, another through the parietal lobe, the third along the motor cortex."

I take a polite sip of the black coffee as well. "It's not wrong to assume that this is a professional gunman."

"Gun_woman_, actually," Hiashi says with a curved eyebrow.

"What?" I set my cup down rather loudly.

"The Nara family's detectives found pink nail polish on the pistol's grip."

My eyes narrow. _Pink_? "The gun was left at the crime scene?"

"Yes. A Beretta 93R."

"A selective-fire machine pistol," I murmur, clasping my hands under my chin.

"We believe that the assassin is now targeting the deceased Nara-san's son-in-law," Hiashi says grimly. "I'd like to put him in your hands for a while."

I grimace, and spend a moment to think. "With all due respect, Hiashi-san, I…I don't think I can take this job."

"I _know_ you can take this job."

"You overestimate my abilities, Hiashi-san," I answer. "The timing just isn't—"

"Neji, you're the best man for this type of task. Besides, who can I trust more than my own nephew?" Hiashi finishes his coffee and gives me a don't-fuck-with-me look. "You know I won't take no for an answer."

"Hiashi-san, there's a crazy prostitute on the loose—one that I have been handed complete responsibility for. I'm putting fifty million on the line. I'm busy. I'm irritated. And I'm hungry. I'm sure it won't hurt you to find another bodyguard for this Nara runt," is what I want to say. But all that leaves my mouth is a solid "I understand".

"Good. As expected from a Hyuuga," Hiashi exclaims. I watch him fetch out a phone from his relatively small pocket that was nevertheless able to carry my set of handcuffs and No.10's meter-long piece of black fabric earlier. He presses in a few digits and brings the gadget to his ears. After a terse greeting, a "Bring him in," and a click, the device returns to his pocket.

I welcome the peculiar feeling of déjà vu, realizing a moment later that a similar event had indeed happened before—in Sasuke's office specifically. It wouldn't be surprising if the personnel leading Nara-san into my compound were No.5 and No.6 themselves.

Soon, somebody knocks on the glass door and I move to unlock it. Almost immediately, a tenacious force blasts through the entrance, nearly knocking me off balance. Hiashi grunts at the insolence but before he can shoot his trademark glare, the intrusion speaks. "Good evening, Hiashi-sama! Nara-san is ill!"

"Ill?" Hiashi almost screeches. "Where is he?"

"In the car, sir!"

The older man fumes. "I told you to bring him in!"

"He can't move, sir!" replies the enthusiastic sentinel, going so far as to saluting. I observe him in quiet amusement.

"Well, carry him then!"

"Yes, sir!" The lad vanishes out into the parking lot.

I wait for Hiashi to recover from his aggravation before turning to him. "I don't recognize him. Is he new?"

"Unfortunately." A sigh. "He hasn't grown accustomed to the world's secretive, not to mention _saner_, side of occupations.

"…It appears so."

"_But_," Hiashi announces, "he has great physical potential. He'll catch up to your strength in no time." He stops to raise a judgmental eyebrow. "I'll make sure to assign him exercise routines much more strenuous than yours."

I merely nod. Is it all that necessary for him to bring this topic up again?

"I'll have him climb walls."

"Don't forget the groceries, Hiashi-san."

"Ah, thank you for reminding me." Hiashi folds his arms. "I'll replace them with bricks." The Hyuugan mastermind illuminates. I unwillingly watch. "Nevertheless, I still have to think of a method to quiet that boy down." He narrows his eyes. "He is far too noisy."

"Perhaps—"

"Hiashi-sama!" A green explosion whirls into the room again, carrying a blue-faced man on the verge of death. Or so it seems. "I brought Nara-san!"

"Lee," Hiashi calls, eying the frail man in his arms. "Lay him down." Lee drops him on the sofa. "How ill is he?"

"I do not know, sir." A salute. "Nara-san said he felt cold and fell asleep, sir."

Hiashi crossed his arms foully. "And?"

"And?" Lee wears a pitiful look. "And—uh…and he's ill, sir!"

An exasperated sigh exits Hiashi's scowling mouth. "Neji." He whips his head to me. "This is tiring me to my wit's end. I leave these people to you. Ask Lee for the job details." He eyes the green mess. "Hopefully, he can explain things logically."

Before I can nod, Lee opens his mouth. "I will try my best to explicate comprehensively, sir!"

"Yes, yes." Hiashi slips into his shoes. "I'm counting on you." He sends me one last look and disappears out the door.

I sigh for the umpteenth time. "Hyuuga Neji," is my lengthy self introduction. "Lee! Rock Lee!" is his. We shake hands. For three very painful seconds.

"Nara Shikamaru," a voice murmurs from behind. I turn to the couch in slight surprise, then scrutinize a pineapple-shaped blob of hair and the man under it. He stares back for half a second before yielding to a tremendous yawn. He recovers momentarily. "So, where am I?"


	5. Hide

"Good evening, Nara-san. You'll be ensured absolute protection here, in the Hyuuga mansion." I step toward the couch with a mask of concern. "Are you alright?"

"Somewhat," the man mutters, returning to his resting position. "Guess I stayed up too late at the hospital last night."

I press my lips together grimly and offer a polite bow. "My condolences."

Lee mimics the gesture, reciting in a quiet tone for once, "I am sorry for your loss."

"It's alright." Shikamaru brings his arms up and rests his hands behind his head, eyes stuck firmly to the ceiling. "Besides, we weren't blood related."

A tinge of sadness breathes through his mouth.

"…I'll miss him."

We allow ourselves to immerse in a mournful moment of silence. I glance at Lee, inaudibly imploring him to keep quiet for a minute longer, and he thankfully does. As I feel the realm of peace slowly degrade into an awkward absence of all sound, I break it, clearing my throat. "Nara-san, I heard you were feeling ill."

"I'm fine. Just a bit cold."

"Would you like for me to get a radiator?" I coat my tone with courtesy.

"Yes. Thank you."

I nod once more, and allow my eyes to briefly scan through the room's foreground objects, pausing a second for every shade of white or gray reflected, but to no avail. It's not here. I let the gears within my memory wheel and turn, reminding myself that I did indeed bring it into the room for No.10 before I departed earlier. I grimace. "Nara-san, pardon me. I will search for it now."

"Allow me to assist you, Neji-san!" is the immediate response I get, except from the wrong person.

Nonetheless, I turn towards Lee, deciding that his agility can make the search through the Hyuuga manor a lot easier, and accept his request with a slight nod. "Cover the left wing. I'll cover the right." He salutes. "I apologize, Nara-san."

"It's fine," Shikamaru reassures as he moves four warm pillows from the other end of the silk couch and buries himself under them. "This will do for now."

As Lee lets out a small chuckle, I eye him and then the left door. He nods, and we begin our search.

Why isn't it in the living room? Where exactly could it be now? Did No.10 escape with it in hand? I shake my head with furrowed eyebrows, deeming the theory as preposterous. But then again, No.10 _herself_ is quite preposterous…

I sigh, continuing to scan through the hallways, rooms, closets, and hidden staircases for any sign of the radiator. I silently curse at the family's main branch for leaving me with only one, only to shamelessly take the words back upon realizing that one heater for one single person makes perfect sense.

Unexpectedly, a loud stumble from the upper northwest division of the compound resonates through the wall beside me, followed by a sequence of unruly screams. I hurriedly swerve around the left corner and run up the nearest staircase, to find an uncanny sight unraveled before my eyes.

The first room I see, which is coincidentally my own bedroom, has its door wide open, with a shocked Lee facing it. He finally turns to me, with a sheepish frown attached to his now unusually pale complexion, and points to my bedroom. "I found it." He gulps. "But…"

I arch an eyebrow at the overreaction, but nevertheless follow his finger's pointed direction and enter my room. My gaze immediately travels to the radiator positioned in front of my wooden bedpost, and a look of satisfaction grows upon my features. "Good work, Lee." I turn around to face the man, whose finger remains frozen in the air. "Let's return—"

"Be…" Lee mechanically shifts his wide eyes to meet my blank stare. "B-Behind you—"

"Welcome back." I automatically whip around in surprise at the familiar voice, and direct my bewilderment to my bed. Though it's a wonder how I didn't notice upon first entrance, I now take in the sight of my messily tossed and turned blanket, and the vague outline of a thin figure lying beneath it. "You took forever," a lethargic voice whispers, and a brunette head surfaces from under the covers.

My breath hitches in my throat as notions of relief, anger, and utter shock inwardly battle for complete domination of my conscience.

No.10?

"Neji-san," Lee manages to utter. "Do you know her?"

"Of course he does," the woman replies with a convincing smile, and sits up straight, with my blanket embracing her form from shoulder down.

I remain expressionless as Lee turns to me for any sign of assurance, and then back to No.10. "Excuse me, ma'am." He makes a smooth recovery from his traumatized state and straightens his back with remarkable mannerism. "It wasn't of my intention to disrupt your slumber."

The woman titters melodiously and chimes, "It's fine." Delight mixes with her mischief. "What's your name, fine lad?"

"It's Lee, ma'am!" he responds readily. "May I ask for yours?"

There's a brief moment of contemplation, and I catch the hinted amusement No.10 flashes me from the corner of her eye. She begins to bring an arm from beneath the sheets, to shake hands with Lee, presumably. I watch with little reaction, until something in my head clicks.

Hide.

"Good evening, Lee."

The wounds.

"Call me—"

In a split second, a swift surge of adrenaline urges my footsteps forward, and my body rushes toward No.10, whose bruised arm is a mistake away from revealing itself. I wrap my arms around her fragile shoulders a bit more possessively than expected, and whisper quiescently into her ear, "Don't let him see your scars." She wordlessly brings a cold hand to my right arm, brushing it with the slightest fondness, and then slyly slides her limb back under the linen covers. "I'll bring dinner shortly," I softly add as waves of unexplainable sensation run up my arm.

"Lee." I rotate my torso to shift my attention back to the again confused man. "She's feeling…ill. It's best to leave her alone for now."

He slowly bobs his head down and then up as he observes the misleading scene between No.10 and I. With a tint of vexation, I descend from my bed and fetch the radiator with my left hand. Fortunately, Lee regains his ability to function and make his way down the stairs.

I send one last blink to No.10, whose opaque gaze quickly shifts to a small smile, and bid her a good night. "Come back soon," I hear her murmur in response before my tingling arm pulls the bedroom door shut.

Trailing down the steps and then veering around the left corner, my mind gradually dissolves into repose. She stayed in the compound after all. Then, I rewind back to confusion. _Why?_ It was her perfect chance to escape—

"Does Hiashi-sama know about this?" I raise my eyes to see Lee leaning by the wall, casting a sideways glance of apprehension toward me.

I brush him off. "About what?

"About your woman."

_"Pardon?"_

Lee confirms it with an affirmative gesture. "The one resting upstairs."

"She's not my woman."

"Neji-san, what I_ saw_ in there suggests otherwise. If Hiashi-san were to—"

"Tell me," I challenge curtly. "Tell me what you _saw_ in there, Lee-_san_."

Taken aback, he searches for the right words. "Neji-san was…_embracing_—"

"Can a man and a woman not come into physical contact without being labeled as romantically involved?"

"Well…" Lee stares at the floor, struggling to alter his perspective. "I apologize. Let me rephrase my question." He looks toward me meekly before proceeding. "Is Hiashi-san aware that you're keeping a lady friend in your bedroom?"

I blink twice, incapable of creating a feasible response. Keeping. A lady friend. In my bedroom. The situation did seem a bit shady in fact. I clear my throat. "No. She's a secret."

Instantaneously, the peculiar side of Lee is back, as his shiny hair flies up and twirls at the small detail. "A _secret?_" He clasps his hands in stupefaction. "So…it's a like…a private affair?" He fawns over the possibility, whispering foul scenarios to himself. "So she's like_…_" The romanticist within him literally sparkles. "Your_ mistress?_"

I do everything in my power to keep my arm and the heavy radiator secured by my side, saving Lee from a heavy case of bloody loss. "Address her in whichever way you wish." My appearance turns grave again. "Just don't let Hiashi-san find out."

Lee nods frivolously. "I'll do my best to keep your secret relationship unexposed!"

I inwardly applaud myself. "Thank you. Don't tell Nara-san either," I add as I begin walking back.

He nods again. "But hey, Neji-san," he calls as he trails excitedly behind me, "what's your lady's name?"

As the living room finally comes into view from the opposite end of the hallway, I increase my pace, mainly to avoid answering the question. Lee matches my speed effortlessly. Damn his physical competence.

"Yuki," he tries. "Mimi," he tries again. "Nana?" And _again_.

"Tenten," I lie, shooting a glare in his direction. "But that's to be kept a secret as well." I step into the living room.

Lee pops a cheerful thumb up. "Understood, Neji-san." He follows suit.

An immediate grunt of complaint comes from the couch. "Took you guys long enough." I walk over to the sleep-talking man with the radiator, quickly settle it to the floor, and flick it on. "These pillows smell strange," he mutters, and unconsciously throws one to the carpeted floor. Lee laughs at the sight of the man fussing in his snooze. Exhaling with ease, I too listen to Shikamaru's rant.

"They smell like," he continues between soft snores.

A gentle pause.

"Blood and nail polish."


	6. Lied

Blood and nail polish.

Like a rusty knife, the grotesque visual continuously pierces through the air until our solace retreats and a chilling stillness returns.

I search with forced composure for any hidden meaning behind his words. Losing a loved one, blood-related or not, is an experience that I myself have underwent many times, enough to know that no matter how you choose to deal with it, be it acceptance or denial, death will crawl its way back into your thoughts and haunt you when you plead it not to, when you least expect it, and in forms you can't defy, such as hallucinations or unconscious figments of imaginations.

A logical explanation for Shikamaru's case would be a post-traumatic stress disorder or simply, a nightmare. However, there's a high margin of error for both possibilities. The discovery of nail polish on the weapon, a significant but dangerous piece of evidence that cannot be released to anybody outside detective relations until the case is solved or at least further deduced, is something Shikamaru should not be aware of. It would be highly unlikely for the detectives to inform the deceased Nara's older, blood-related family members of this detail, let alone his young and vulnerable stepson.

Furthermore, Shikamaru stayed at the hospital with his father last night, while the detectives occupied the crime scene. The two events were held hours and miles apart; the two never intersected paths. Who could've possibly leaked this piece of information to him? Hiashi couldn't have; he knows better than anyone when to seal and sew his lips, and at whom to release confidential material—Shikamaru definitely not being one of them.

Blood was understandable; the teen saw his stepfather drowned in a sick pool of it. But where did he derive the idea of nail polish from?

"Blood?" The morbid syllable cuts my contemplation. "Did h-he say…" Ah. Being that Lee's new, Hiashi probably didn't inform him of the crime scene's data either. "B-Blood…and nail polish?"

My eyes reluctantly fall to the floor, where the recently hired, once chaste man suffers his first mental breakdown. "I…" All signs of his early flamboyance's vanish as the man begins to crumble. "I'm…" Sprawled across the floor, head buried into the fallen pillow, and hands trembling by his sides, Lee tries. "_Afraid_." He can't say more, and pounds the floor twice in frustration.

Though I've lost count of how many times I've witnessed a bodyguard physically and mentally, helplessly and devastatingly, collapse right before my eyes, I can never get used to it. It's upsetting to know that any attempt to calm him down would only make the situation worse, for throughout all these years of involvement in this profession, I myself am still terrified to death, of death.

"I'm afraid," he repeats, hands clawing viciously at the pillow Shikamaru had discarded before.

Through years of practice, I've learned to stop my voice from quivering with a pinch to my wrist. "Lee." Another pinch. "Lee, get up."

"But," he whispers, directing it to the pillow rather than me. "But…"

"Lee," I try again. "You've entered this line of work knowing full well that—"

"But Nara—"

Our attempts to influence the other man fail and overlap. "And Hiashi-san had exceptionally high expectations for you—"

"But Nara-san!" He chokes on a sphere of fear.

I stop. "What about Nara-san?"

"Was right." An exhale. "The pillows!"

I furrow my eyebrows. "You're not making any sense, Lee. Get up and—"

"They really do—" He finally turns to me, with a look of horror on his face, and speaks with such alarming hoarseness that I almost want to believe him. "—smell like blood and nail polish."

Something snaps. "_Lee_." I trudge over to the withering man, remove the cushiony object from his clenched fists, and heave him to a standing position with unintentional aggressiveness. "I'll handle Nara-san. Go home." I shove Lee away from the couch, on which Shikamaru is somehow still sound asleep, and glare at him when his footsteps refuse to budge. "_Leave,_" I snarl.

"Smell…" I watch with little patience as the man bends to retrieve the pillow. "Smell it." He hands it to me. "And I'll leave."

With visible annoyance, I snatch the pillow and bring it toward my nose, inhaling the fabric material for two seconds, wasting an extra to convince Lee completely. "There."

He swallows the lump in his throat. "…So?"

"Nothing." I toss the object to the floor. "Smells like absolutely nothing," I say, feeling more irked than ever, but managing to hold the rage in. "You're imagining things, Lee."

"Again." He's too determined, and reaches for the pillow once more.

"_Nothing,_" I repeat, pushing Lee and his unwilling acceptance away again, and fortunately, because he finally gives it up, through the front door. "Good night, Lee." Before he's able to respond or change his mind, I slam the door with enough volume to make him breathe, turn and walk.

With two cold fingers pressed to my forehead, I return to the sleeping Shikamaru and his lurid delusions. "Nara-san," I call, quaking him awake, "allow me to show you to a guest room."

He opens his eyes groggily, grunts in agreement, and lets me hoist his drowsy form up. Taking the radiator in one hand and supporting the man with my other, I lead him upstairs to the room beside mine, deciding that less distance equals more safety. I secure the room's windows, set the radiator at its max, and quietly close the door.

I touch my temples again, rubbing them in exhaustion. What time is it now? Eleven? Twelve? I haven't had to chance to eat. But hunger's trivial compared to my other dilemmas.

To satisfy my greatest doubt, I step toward my own room. I leave the lights off and take small, silent steps toward my bed, searching with an extended hand.

One touch.

Just one touch and I'll know if she's still asleep, if she's still here, if she's still alive; just one touch and I'll go prepare dinner. Just one—

"Neji-san?"

—touch.

Icy hands hook themselves behind my neck, and I let out a breath of surprise as cold metal brushes across my skin, producing a soft _clank_, and then a shiver up my back. I watch my vision descend into utter darkness, and immediately pull away in protest, but a nimble leg from beneath the sheets nudges mine, robbing my knees of their balance.

…_gifted with severe promiscuity, vulgarity, and slight anorexia…_

The blanket separating my body from hers is gradually pushed and dropped to the floor, as the woman breathing beneath me continues to move with curious hands. Something deep within my gut ignites as I remain wordless and unmoving, my body pressed atop hers.

_...just an animal in heat…_

I nearly lose myself in a state of limbo, half confused and half immoral, devoid of reason but filled with everything else. Another rush of hot, unknown sensations stirs up my right arm, and coerces my doubtful conscience to accept the odd reactions and melt with them.

…_reject each and every one of her sexual advances…_

My mind finally registers the situation and perturbs the aura of desire surrounding us. Carefully, in the dark, I set a firm hand down on the wrinkled bed sheets and slowly remove myself from No.10.

_... I'm very, very scared of you, Neji-san..._

I struggle.

_Clank._

"Stop."

_Clank._

"_Stop._"

"But it's cold."

My eyes flicker.

As if on cue, she sneezes.

"…Cold?"

"Freezing, even." I feel her reach for the blanket, tugging it back to its original position, over her nearly naked flesh. "You took my radiator away after all." No.10 sniffs, and my confusion only deepens. "…What?"

"Nothing." I draw in an unsteady breath, wondering what had exactly overcome me during her search for mere warmth. It was just a simple means of exchanging body heat. "I just…"

No.10 remains calm and still under my towering posture over her. "Yes?"

"I just thought that my blanket would be enough."

"For you, probably." No.10 sneezes once more. "But I'm not as healthy as the almighty Hyuuga Neji-san," she chimes, and I can almost hear her trademark smile spreading.

I inwardly hark back to the woman's body conditions, chastising myself for forgetting her fear of the sun and lack of nutrition as a consequence. Though of miniscule relevance, I remember that No.10 hadn't eaten either, and quickly remove my arm from their fixated spot near her face. "…I'll go make dinner."

"Don't." With one light trace with her finger, she's able to pull me back down to my former stance. "I'd prefer to starve together than freeze alone."

"It won't take long." Nevertheless, I stay on the bed, shifting my body toward the right edge of the medium-sized bed, leaning on my side, eyes facing the concrete wall. "And I'm not exactly providing you with much body heat anyway."

In response, cold fingers snake their way around my elbow, tapping soothingly, gently, tactfully. "We should do something about that."

I keep my gaze plastered on the dark wallpaper before me, uncertain of what to say.

"Can you do it once more?"

Absentmindedly, I press my tongue against the inside of my cheek. "Do what?"

"Hug me like you did earlier today."

I'm unable to move for a long moment, only staring at the wall harder.

"Neji-san?"

_Clang_.

Good. A pretense. "What is that noise?"

_Clang. _"Your handcuffs."

I tear my gaze from the wall and turn around, my eyes traveling to the two arms No.10 holds up before me. Under the slight moonlight, the one bony wrist is illuminated as free while the other is trapped within a cuff, deeming the restriction as essentially useless. I stir at the revelation, recalling that Hiashi had found only one set, the thicker of the two, on the living room floor. "How did you—"

"Secret," she cuts in. "Hey, I'm sleepy." Then, on cue again, a little yawn. "Mind staying with me until I fall asleep, Neji-san?"

I sigh with an impartial tone, that's neither bothered nor agitated, and dig my mind from its deep state of doubt. I suppose secrets can wait a while.

"On second thought, stay with me until morning comes." I blink through the blackness. "I dislike waking up to the sun alone."

My eyes make a futile attempt to absorb the entire mass of black until nothing was left but her face; whatever expression that spread across No.10's face is either smothered with the room's obscurity or ebbed away a moment after her words. "…Alright." Hesitantly, I move closer toward No.10. I swing an arm around her smooth shoulders, pulling her into my chest, but then retreat. "My jacket—" My fingers trail down the buttons along my suit's tiny fastenings, until a forefinger stops mine.

"Just hold me already." There's a soft laugh. "I don't know what I'll do to you if you start stripping."

"Stripping? It was just an outer layer," I whisper into the palimpsest air.

"You and I both know it'll turn into something much more if we continue."

"Impossible," I say, returning my arms to her shoulders again.

"I'll overlook the fact that your actions just contradicted your very words." Another musical laugh. "Mainly because it's getting really warm now." The woman wriggles. "Your hug almost makes the four hours of waiting in the cold worthwhile."

"Four?" Four hours and you didn't escape? I nearly include.

"Four and a half, actually." No.10 then adds in an undertone, "Neji-san?"

"Yes?"

"It's a bit late but," she mumbles, "it's nice to meet you. I'm Number Ten." I feel her smile curve onto my chest. "Ten for short, I guess."

I feel her hand lightly nudge mine. "…Hyuuga Neji." I shake it. "Neji's fine." I open my mouth to ask for her birth name, but my thoughts flash back to Sasuke's claim that the detail didn't exist, and then toward a conversation with Lee. "What do you think of…Tenten?"

"Tenten?" she echoes curiously and thinks for a moment. "Hm." She clears her throat. "Sounds like a ridiculously attractive prostitute to me," she remarks in a tone so serious that I can almost see her deadpan expression. Before I can blink questioningly, she bursts out laughing. "God, that was awful sarcasm," she squeezes in between snorts.

"It was pretty good, actually."

Her noises come to an abrupt halt. "…Seriously?"

"Yeah," I say, keeping a straight face, though it was most likely concealed in the dark anyway. "Almost as good as mine."

"What—" Realization. "Damn it." Her giggles return.

I let out a small chuckle too at the odd exchange of bad wit. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Tenten," I murmur, unconsciously patting the back of her brunette head.

"Likewise. And what a strange gesture." She tries to return it, but finding difficulty in reaching my head, soon returns her hand to my open, awaiting one. "But then again, you are one strange man." A happy pause. "Not that I mind."

_Strange?_

"Ah, I'm hungry after all," I hear her faintly murmur, but my train of thought wanders elsewhere.

Strange.

Yes, I certainly have been acting strange today.

What's a logical explanation for my behavior?

"Neji?"

Perhaps…

Perhaps I'm hungry too, because I missed dinner,

and my desire grew an appetite.

Perhaps I'm cold too, because the radiator's with someone else,

and No.10's with me.

Or perhaps I'm afraid too, because I lied—

and the pillows really did smell like blood and nail polish.


End file.

Naruto, Mystery, Romance