Chapter Text
Hinata gripped Hanabi’s arm tightly as they walked slowly down the middle of the street, protected on both sides by darkly clad Family members. Likely, over 200 of them had arrived or traveled down to Konoha for this occasion.
Cars honked in disdain, but the party of 200+ ignored them. It was a silent sort of movement to the chapel. The streets were congested and they were holding up traffic for blocks and blocks and blocks. But this was their culture, how else to mourn if not loudly among the family who you love and trusted?
A few centimeters back, a shiny black hearse cruised just behind the main family, its sides flanked by syndicate members clothed in dark apparel with grim looks on their faces. Many wore sunglasses. As the car drove forward, they put their hands on every part of the vehicle they could reach, walking slowly as the car passed long stretches of street until it reached the 7th block of the journey––a pilgrimage––to Hyuga Hizashi’s final resting place.
In front of them all as Hizashi’s sole offspring, Neji walked alone. Unmarried to Tenten, not even she was allowed to walk with him; instead, she fell back beside their other close friends, among the Family members who held their hands on their vehicle, unwilling to let go until his body was laid to rest. The fear was that if the vehicle of transference was uncovered, unprotected by those who could be trusted the most, the spirit of the dead would leave this Earth too soon, forever to search for their final resting place.
Personally, Hinata thought that was bullsh*t, especially considering that their mother hadn’t gotten the same treatment. Her crimes were less than Hizashi’s, but she was a woman, and taking your own life was an original sin. It was not a part of the Hyuga Code of Honor. In fact, it was distinctively dishonorable, and so, Hiashi cremated their mother in private. The Family was not allowed to talk about Aoki Tanaka Hyuga, less you wanted a bloody mouth or salt in a wound. Hinata had seen punishments doled out, but of course, had never received one herself.
In front of Neji, Hiashi stood in a solemn line with elders and Uncles who were the confidants to Hiashi, his brothers in arms, and lower-level bosses of the syndicate. They too were protected by a barrier of Family members who blocked off the street and made wide gestures suggesting drivers move around them. Just three more blocks to go.
At their mother's funeral, the priest was a close friend of Hiashi’s. He said a quiet prayer over her ashes. Hinata cried into Neji’s shoulder, and Hanabi quietly shook with her mouth in a wavering line. No one else had been invited––not even the elders. Not even Grandfather Reishi Tanaka, though Hinata had the suspicion that he did not want to attend.
Now, Hanabi stifled a sob, her skinny shoulder blades trembling beside Hinata. Hinata draped her shawl over her sister’s shoulders and rubbed her arms in an attempt to quell her sobs. It had been a shock when Hizashi was sent to prison after getting into a bar fight––resulting in murder––almost four years ago. The sentencing sent Hanabi into a spiral.
“It’s only ten years,” their father said, which had been a miracle in itself. Probably the only amount of time they could buy, having shaved off the rest of the sentencing through various acts of extortion, bribery, and blackmail. Walking free would send the city into flames, considering the entire act was caught on camera. Civilians needed to have some type of faith that their elected officials cared about systems of law and order. “Good behavior and he’ll be out in five.”
Hinata wasn’t sure why the whole thing affected Hanabi so much. Hizashi was an asshole. He was also a drunk, and he could also be blamed for their mother’s death, though Hanabi probably didn’t know that. Hanabi had only been 12 at the time, so she probably just wasn’t equipped to deal with such a close loss, especially after their mother had passed only a year earlier.
But really, who knew? It was probably all the rapid change. Hinata held Hanabi close to her body but had her eyes on Neji––whom she was really concerned about.
The small city of Family members entered the chapel. The First Family all filed into the building first, followed by a concession of the lesser Family holding up the casket and carrying it to the pulpit in a long, solemn, row. Once Hizashi’s body was in a resting position, Hiashi took in front of the church next to Neji, followed by Hinata and Hanabi, followed by elders, Uncles, and everyone else. The line was so long that it went back out the front door of the chapel and led into the cemetery. As was custom, people who came to pay their respects to the great Hyuga Hizashi must bow to every Family member on their way to view the body. Only then could the funeral begin.
People started entering the hall, and the chapel windows glowed a harsh red light across the Hyuga’s stark attire. Hinata shielded her eyes from the reflections, focusing on the rows and rows of pews that slowly started to be filled as people began to pay their respects to the line of grieving Family. They bowed the lowest when they stepped in front of Neji and the First Family, almost to their knees, their foreheads brushing the ground. Hinata had watched many ponytails sweep up dust particles this way. When they stood back up, it was customary for Hinata to nod her head in acknowledgment, then they would move on to Hanabi who was beside her, and repeat the same progress until they ended with Grandfather Miroku who led the line.
When Neji first heard the news, his expression was indiscernible. Tenten had reacted more than he had, clinging to Neji’s side as if to hold him up when she looked like the person who needed holding. Hinata knew it was no use. Neji’s soft gasp of disbelief was about the only emotion she knew would come from him.
Neji loved his dad. He loved him less when he was drunk, which was often, especially after Hanabi and Hinata’s mother died. Which meant that Neji didn’t get many opportunities to love his dad at all. In prison, Hizashi sent letters, many of them hateful sermons about the wrongs his twin brother had done to him after assuming the status of Father, which he’d risen to position almost thirty years ago. These letters only went to Neji, but he’d shared one or two with Hinata, so he’d have a witness to their destruction.
Hizashi had been an eloquent guy. His role in the Family was one of communication. This, of course, was before he became a drunk. You must keep mentioning this because it was truly the cause of his downfall. He was a great orator. He could convince almost anyone to do anything. He was so good at it, he thought he would almost certainly be named the Father.
The thing was, Hiashi was loved more. He was firstborn, stronger, more cunning (and more vile), and simply more loved. Hiashi didn’t have to convince anyone in the Family to love him like Hizashi had to, he was simply loved because it was who he was. More than that, he was respected. He was a man that respect fell on as if compulsory. He compelled respect, so really, Hizashi never had a chance.
Neji, God bless him, was different. He compelled respect, too. He was a prodigy. Hinata thought Hizashi was actually jealous of him for it. When he thought that everyone was sleeping or gone out, he would lay a flat hand upon Neji’s flesh, inflaming the skin. Don’t worry, it didn’t last long. Soon Neji grew stronger and more sure of his body, and that ended a little after the drinking began.
More bodies filled the pews. Hinata hadn’t been aware that she had bowed her head almost 100 times by now. With one arm wrapped around Hanabi, she bowed her head reflexively, and when she looked up in acknowledgment, she was staring into eyes as green as the gulf, just north of city limits.
f*ck, she thought suddenly, alarmed. Suna Gaara was staring at her with a long, blank stare. He had a ghost of a smile on his face like he was smug. He probably was. Hizashi had been jailed nearly four years ago for killing Gaara’s uncle Baki, and now Hizashi would be six feet under right there with him. If it wasn’t for carefully drawn treaties and almost a century of historied collaboration, Hizashi might’ve drunken his way, and his Family, into a legendary gang war with Suna.
Their relationship still wasn’t great after that. It was more than just big for Gaara and his people to show up here, it was necessary. Not doing so would be the biggest disrespect of them all, and Hiashi wouldn’t take lightly to it. Still, the sight of Garra sent chills down her spine as he looked her up and down. She suddenly felt the blood rush to her face as she noticed the action, suddenly anxious about the low skirt of her black dress.
“Hinata,” Garra said quietly as neither of them dared look away. Not even Hinata as her ears went red. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
You’re not, she thought. Instead, she smiled, tightening her grip on Hanabi, and said, “T-thank you, Gaara. I hope the Family is good.”
“The Family is great and will continue to be,” Gaara said evenly, his eyes mischievous and unkind. It was like he was trying to hide a smirk. “God willing.”
“God willing,” Hinata replied.
Hinata let herself breathe once he moved on. She was able to keep composure even when Temari was next, a similar ironic look in her eyes as she bowed to her. Temari had never scared Hinata though, even with her sharp fans, and Hinata thanked her for supporting their Family. Kankuro, who was the size of Gaara twice, leered over her in a less-respectful way, but he was the known Suna knucklehead, and Hinata was confident that one day, his co*cky smile would be knocked from his face.
She watched the Sunas fill in another couple of rows. Their whole family didn’t come, but a good number piled in, so Hinata knew their relationship was on the mend. She chanced a glance at her father, who looked wholly unaffected by their attendance.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” a low, smooth voice startled her, and she turned her attention back to the person in front of her. He was taller than her, with spiky black hair, and a beautiful face––truly that was the only way to describe him. His eyes were black onyx and they held her gaze in an intense stare. “May the Family be blessed for the rest of time.”
In exchange, she looked deeply into his face for an inappropriate length of time. Did she know him? She swore she could place him, but didn’t at all know where. Someone cleared their throat suddenly, and Hinata realized she’d been holding up the line, looking into the eyes of this stranger. Even Hanabi nudged her confusedly, as the line of people suddenly halted at Hinata.
Hinata shook her head in an effort to clear her thoughts. “G-god willing,” she replied in bewilderment, bowing her head. The stranger moved on and bowed to her sister, who sent a strange look at Hinata when she thought the man was not looking.
As she continued accepting the respects of hundreds of people, enough to fill the chapel to its doors and spill outside onto the pavement––she watched this stranger shake hands with her father boldly, move on to speak to the elders and sit in one of the only remaining seats in the foremost back pew. He smiled at her when he caught her gaze, and it sent chills down her spine.
God willing.
-:-
three weeks later
-:-
“L-let’s go,” Hinata slammed the car door and Neji pulled off quietly. “Sorry it took so long, Father forgot we were going. I just got the new key.”
“How could he forget?” Neji questioned, bemused. It was rare for Hiashi to forget even the simplest of tasks if he were the one doling them out––especially to the likes of Neji or Hinata. Neji turned out of their driveway, heading south towards Katō Park.
“It’s v-very busy,” Hinata said. There had been lots of meetings since Hizashi’s death, especially those with Suna. She snapped on her seatbelt over her casual dress of slim Nike yoga pants, an oversized green hoodie, and running shoes. Her hair was pushed back from her face into a slick ponytail––not unlike Neji’s––so that she had full access to a range of vision. She had learned from a young age to be alert to her surroundings, else she might pay a steep price.
She was armed, too. It was a rule. Especially on these runs.
Neji was wearing a similar ensemble of dark athleisure. He shifted gears confidently as they left the gates of the Estate. “Uncle usually doesn’t forget things like this.”
Neji was the only person in the Family to call Hiashi “Uncle.” It was mainly out of respect for his actual father, Hizashi, though many assumed that after his death, Neji would switch to the honorary title everyone else deferred to. Hiashi said it was not necessary, for he and Neji had a specific bond that they would honor and maintain.
The Uncles, other bosses, who had their own Families, could be called father by their underlings if they pleased, but these underlings were still taught who the real Father was. The whole thing was a complex network of politics, politeness, and etiquette. And even though Hinata had been born into the divine complexities that were the Hyuga Syndicate, she could never wrap her brain around the paternal system of respect.
For instance, if she were to ever take her Father’s place, she would cringe to be called “Mother.” It just sounded sick. When Aoki was living, she was simply called, “The Lady.” Whatever.
“Father usually doesn’t h-have this much going on,” Hinata replied, in defense of the man. Nearing his mid-50s and in charge of over almost one thousand men spread through Konoha, Japan, and a few countries overseas, he had more than enough on his plate to keep him full and preoccupied. The Uncles were always reliable and knew how to keep their Families under control, reporting to Hiashi and Hiashi only, but the shift in attention with Suna was causing a strain. There was something new and more dangerous in the air.
“Gaara’s on his ass,” Neji rolled down the window and cool air streamed into the vehicle. He extended his arms, flashing the four-fingered gesture of quiet, and pulled his car into a stop in a driveway. “Uncles are on his ass, too, though he won’t admit it. They want revenge
––I’m worried.”
“Worried about what?”
Hinata slid out of the vehicle. Choji was outside smoking a cigarette, his free left hand hovering over his waist where his handgun likely rested under his thick coat. He nodded his respect to both of them, muttering gruffly, “Ino is here.”
“Great, thanks Choji,” Hinata replied quietly. Neji was close behind her, and she tipped her head to hear his response. Together, they entered Yamanaka Flowers, their dark bodies clashing elegantly with the explosion of fauna and colors that greeted them once indoors. The humid air made Hinata’s skin feel luxurious as she navigated giant heads of roses, tall spindly branches of Birds of Paradises, and raunchy bunches of purple carnations.
Briefly, Neji disappeared from sight amongst the foliage and Hinata followed his swift footsteps, bounding familiarly off of the brown and cream checkered linoleum. Somewhere above her, a fan blew, filling the shop with white noise and blowing her bangs into her forehead.
She’d loved this flower shop since she was a child, and could remember spending hours chasing Ino through tall heads of lilies, carrying dirt in her palms from room to room. Her father would sit for long hours in the greenhouse with Uncle Inoichi, the sweet musky scent of men and fresh marijuana spilling out of the doorway while they spoke in low tones.
Sometimes, Aoki would come to gossip with Ino’s mother, or they’d sit at their husband’s feet sending money through feeders or harvesting buds of marijuana by trimming the large leaves with pocket knives. Once they were finished, Ino’s mother would roll a fat blunt for them all to enjoy, and Ino and Hinata would sit behind the doorway, inhaling deeply in search of a childish contact high. At the Yamanka’s, laughter and movement always seemed to be in abundance.
The Yamanakas had provided the flowers for the funeral, covering Hizashi’s casket head to toe with Carnations of different hues of purple and blue. Hinata ran her hand over the petals, watching his lifeless face stare back at hers, a mirror of her father's. The sight of death on her father’s face scared her, so she could not imagine how Neji felt looking at his uncle every day. She caught up to him at the back, where he meticulously moved pots out of the walkway with a mild shake of his head.
“I’m worried,” Neji said once he finished moving pots so that they could finally reach the back door. It was covered in charts listing various watering cycles, plant nutrients, and shipment information. He took a clipboard off the back of the door and flipped until he reached a printed graph with shipments written on it, humming quietly when he examined who had come by last. Once satisfied, he unlocked the door, gesturing Hinata forward. “––tension with Akatsuki will escalate and put us in a bad position. We can’t afford to lose Suna right now.”
“We won’t,” Hinata said, maybe too confidently, because Neji looked up from the second clipboard he’d grabbed––the one next to a lone magazine clip––to stare at her blankly. His eyebrows lifted, how do you know?
“J-just guessing,” Hinata said, turning her head to look away. She focused on a pair of pink rubber gloves that sat on top of a safe. She walked towards it, trying to hide her burning cheeks.
Okay. This was how she knew: She knew because she knew that the Suna honor code was so incredibly similar to their own that any apparent difference led to spirited conversations. She knew the honor code because she knew Gaara. She knew Gaara well, or at least she had five years ago.
She thought of all the hours they had spent together in the quiet of his bedroom, leafing through records and smoking weed until they couldn’t move from whatever position they had fallen into. At 17 and 18, they didn’t have the Family obligations they did now. Suna and Hyuga both believed in their studies as high schoolers, and though the post-secondary-education route was not necessarily promoted, they wouldn’t deny them that, either. Besides the weekly training with syndicate members they had to attend, they truly were free to just be kids. But only for a little while.
It was a rare time of joy and ease they would never get back, and it was part of what made their relationship with each other so simple. Hinata often snuck into his room late into the evenings and they’d stay up together watching comedies and eating snacks. They gave each other hand-poked tattoos and played video games, and they rarely ever mentioned their families. Not even after they’d stolen liquor from the corner store, and drank until the bottles were done. They knew how to hide their secrets because the secrets were their birthrights.
They had learned to love quietly in that sunset room, but one day the love had turned bad. One day something ruptured. It became a rotten, dirty thing.
Hinata knelt to her knees and turned the combination of the safe, pushing her tongue against her teeth in concentration. When it finally clicked open, she shifted the store banks to the side until she found a slender key hidden amongst a stack of old receipts. She replaced it and pocketed the old one before slamming the door shut.
Neji called her an optimist and she ignored him. They went through the back door and into the courtyard, where they found Ino sitting in a hot tub with Shikamaru. Shikamaru was the son of an Uncle who lived in a different city. He moved to Konoha for undergrad before dropping out and joining the Syndicate full-time. Generally, though, he tried to stay out of things.
“Little cold for the jacuzzi, don’t you t-think?” Hinata teased when she saw Ino’s face turn red after being caught. It was almost winter, after all.
Ino got up, shivering almost immediately when her bare skin hit the freezing air. Her swimsuit was a tiny piece of purple fabric. “Sorry,” she said apologetically, though after a few seconds had passed she no longer looked it. “Do you guys need help?”
“Ignore us,” Neji rolled his eyes and Hinata followed, lifting her eyebrows suggestively at the pair of relaxing young adults. No wonder Choji was outside alone nursing his cigarette. He was probably sick of the two of them.
At the third greenhouse, Neji unlocked the door with a code on a keypad. The smell of marijuana wafted to greet their nostrils. Hinata touched the blooming plants as she passed, noting that some were budding and others were nearing harvest, their buds practically exploding with giant masses of weed that weighed the branches down by their sheer girth.
There was a storage closet in the back, which Hinata unlocked with a different key from before. Once unlocked, she knelt in front of it.
Neji handed her the backpack he’d been carrying, and she took out a screwdriver, which she used to remove two bolts and a turnplate, the mechanisms that held the lock in place.
Neji was anxiously tapping his foot beside her so she made quick work of replacing the lock with a new one, using a copy of the same key they’d put in the safe. Once inside, Hinata deposited the copied key between the weathered pages of a farmer’s almanac that rested on a shelf. Before it, was yet another large safe which Hinata patted good-naturedly and called “ol’ faithful.”
They completed this process every time there was big activity in the Estate. Today just seemed exceptional because they were moving goods. Hiashi Hyuga was into safety, and though he was the keeper of many safes, this one was one of the more important, best-hidden ones. Hinata opened this safe with ease, trying not to squish Neji’s tapping foot with her fist. “Could you s-stop?”
“Sorry,” he grumbled. “We just have another drop to make today and––”
“I know, I know,” Hinata said. “Y-you have a date with Tenten. Just give me the b-bag. I’ll hurry up.”
Hinata took the bag, put on a pair of nitrile gloves she’d stored in the pocket of her hoodie earlier that day, and traded two bricks of cocaine for a thick stack of 100s, an envelope with Hiashi’s name on it, and a flash drive. The flash drive she put in her bra so that she could feel it against her skin at all times. She would pass it along to her father later, though she would not tell him where she’d routinely chosen to hide it. It just felt safer that way.
“D-done,” she stood, dusting off her pants with finality.
When they walked back through the courtyard, passed Ino and Shikamaru in the hot tub, passed the back room with the safe, passed the towering monstera leaves, and finally passed the dozen pink peonies, Hinata watched an employee wrap the flowers up for a woman with equally pink hair. Only then did Hinata feel the depths of her loneliness cross over her shoulders and render her exhausted.
“These are gorgeous,” the pink-haired woman said. Hinata felt the sound of the woman’s voice scratch at the thing in her brain that traditionally gave her warnings. She filed this information away for later. “I’ll definitely be coming back.”
-:-
Neji drove past Katō Park with his fingers tapping on the steering wheel. Hinata guessed it was a hot date, the way he was acting. He and Tenten had only been dating about three and a half months at that point, but they’d spent many long years in flirtation, and even longer ones as best friends. It was easy the way Tenten had slipped into their family, behaving like an additional cousin or sibling who knew just what buttons to push and what buttons to avoid. Hinata liked her a lot, and even more so liked knowing that love was a real and tangible thing. If Neji and Tenten could cross the rivers of friendship into something new and exciting and scary as a committed relationship, Hinata hoped that there was hope for her too.
The streets passed in a long gray line. There was nothing much worth noting east of Yamanaka Flowers. They passed funeral home, corner store, laundromat, shrine, take-out, loan agency, and not much else in a stream of flashing buildings. It began to snow for the fourth time that week, leaving snowflakes to melt upon contact with the windshield. None of the snow had stuck yet.
She laid her head against the cool window. There were so many things about herself she thought were hard to love. For one thing, she was boring. For another, she spent too much time helping with the Family. For the third, she was just too squeamish. Who would want to date a woman who stuttered every time she spoke out of nervous PTSD? Who would want a woman who jumped out of her skin every time her flesh was so much as brushed?
Not to mention...she felt absolutely ruined after her damned relationship with Gaara Suna at 19-years-old. Every time she went on a date with a guy, she couldn’t sleep for hours afterward, dreading the thought of it getting too serious. Because after that what would happen? He’d try to plant spyware on her? Or worse––he’d actually turn out to be a good guy. He’d want to meet her family. He’d want to meet her father. He’d want her to move out of the Estate, get an apartment with him, and start pumping her with babies. She’d have to become a nurse or something to provide for her new family, forget her past, and lie to her husband about the family business! She might even not be able to leave the Hyuga business and would operate living a dual life, sneaking away at night to––
“––Hinata.” Neji had stopped the car. They were pulled over in front of yet another laundromat. This one had a yellow awning, and in big block letters proclaimed “SCRUB DADDY.” Hinata recognized it immediately. She’d always hated its name.
“Huh?” Hinata muttered awkwardly. She hadn’t heard a word he’d said.
“I said, there’s a new guy at Scrub Daddy. Uncle wants us to check up on him, see how he's doing.”
“Oh,” Hinata said. She peered out of the window across the street. A tall figure dressed in black was leaning against one of the glass windows of the laundromat, his features hidden from view. He was shielded from the snow. Behind him, the lights from the facility glowed from within and the windows were fogged. She could just see a few bodies milling about, washing their delicates. “He’s running it?”
“He has shifts,” Neji said. “He’s new. You know how Uncle is.”
Hinata said nothing. She watched as the new guy noticed them and kicked himself off the wall, taking long, confident steps towards the vehicle. When he finally got to the window, he took the hood of his hoodie off and Hinata stifled a gasp when they locked eyes.
It was the same man from the funeral three weeks ago. His dark eyes stared at her piercingly as if they were deciding what to make of her, and Hinata could not look away. The exchange only lasted a millisecond, but when he finally flickered his gaze to her cousin, she could feel the breath she was holding leave her chest.
Cursing herself, she felt her ears heat. She looked away and out of her window, choosing to stare at a competing laundromat next door. This one had plants in the windows, their long-reaching leaves smashing up against the foggy glass. Maybe we should get plants too, Hinata thought, looks more peaceful in there.
Ten years ago this block was hot, dangerous, and in the middle of a trite territory war. Hizashi held position at Scrub Daddy, standing tall and proud at the entrance every day and directing business in the back, behind the rows of hanging clothes where they conducted high-quality dry cleaning for fur coats and duvets and stuff like that. The back had paneled wood and dozens of homemaker signs like “God is Watching Over You!” displayed in little golden frames. Past the panels was a small room full of ammunition, alcohol, and sweaty men.
They’d won the war with a long string of bullets and nights setting various properties on fire. The block became quiet again. Hizashi returned to more important locations. Scrub Daddy became a casual stronghold and a centerpiece for pushing hard drugs.
“How’d you manage that?” Neji was saying to the newcomer, who was leaning back casually away from the car. He made eye contact with Hinata again, a slow smirk coming across his face when he caught her curious gaze. Hinata tried not to look away again, besides, Neji’s disbelieving tone had piqued her interest.
“I’m charismatic,” the guy said. He spoke in a low, smooth voice that raised the hairs on the back of Hinata’s neck. “People want to talk to me, but they want drugs more. Here.”
He reached into the backpack that had been hanging low against his back, and pulled out a couple of thickly rubber-banded bills. Snow began to pile into his hair and he shook it out, sending cold droplets into Neji’s face. Neji frowned and took the money, undoing the rubber bands and counting quickly.
“Shenji’s been in the back bagging this sh*t,” he said. “We’ll need to re-up soon.”
“Hm,” Neji hummed. He handed the money to Hinata without looking at her. He was far too busy sizing up this new person. To her, he said, “Count this again?” To the man, he said, “Shenji...that blonde guy?”
The man nodded. Hinata counted quickly, moving the bills between her hands with practiced accuracy. She handed the bulk of the cash back to Neji.
“That’s 5K,” she said. The smaller pile she dutifully rolled and rubber-banded, then reached across Neji to hand it to the man. She was nervous, but she also wanted to be assertive for some reason. She wanted to show him that she did more than count money when asked. “T-this...is your profit.”
He took it, sliding his hand over hers. Hinata tried not to jump at the unexpected contact, but he quickly withdrew, smoothly putting the money into his pocket. “When can we re-up?”
“I’ll be by tomorrow,” Neji said. He kept looking at the man as if he were trying to figure out where to place him, and he looked annoyed. “Hang tight. Don’t be too f*cking flashy with it, either.”
“Who said I’m flashy?” the man replied dryly, already taking steps away from them. He shoved his hands into his pockets, “I just handle my business.”
Neji didn’t dignify him with a response. Hinata rolled her eyes at the overwhelmingly masculine tone of the conversation. As Neji pulled off with a puff of aggravated smoke off his Mustang, Hinata questioned, “how long has he been with the Family?”
“Not long enough to trust him,” Neji muttered, and so she thought better of asking for his name.
![Family Affair - angel222you - Naruto (Anime & Manga) [Archive of Our Own] (2024)](data:image/png;base64,iVBORw0KGgoAAAANSUhEUgAAAAEAAAABCAQAAAC1HAwCAAAAC0lEQVR42mP8/h8AAvMB+NzmkbcAAAAASUVORK5CYII=)