“Hey sweetheart, what’re you doing round these parts?”

  Miyu can’t help but smile at the hostess of the bar. She’s blonde, tall, with dark blue eyes and a sultry smile, reminding Miyu so much of Rin that it hurts. She wants desperately for her friend for a long, aching moment, but then she refocuses on the present.

  “I’m here to meet someone,” Miyu says with a smile, “I’m a little early.” The low lighting of the bar is flattering to the people within, and she lets herself skim her eyes across the waitresses, the circular tables and rectangular booths, and the main back bar.

  For a bar in Konoha’s Flower District, it’s rather mellower than she anticipated.

  “I’ll get you a seat then, darling,” smiles the waitress, leading her to a booth against a wall. Miyu makes a mental note to tip her a little extra for not seating her on one of the tables in the middle of the room.

  “What can I get you?”

  Miyu purses her lips for a moment, and then says, “Something sweet, but not too strong, please.”

  She’d usually go for sake in a setting like this, but she wants to keep her wits about her.

  “How’s fruity sound?” the hostess questions, jotting something onto her notepad.

  “Perfect,” Miyu smiles, and with a quick bow the hostess is on her way.

  She takes a deep breath, running a hand through her hair – she decided to leave down tonight – and lets her gaze fall over the other occupants of the bar.

  She’s watching the door when a man with long, straight hair enters, making a rather alarmingly direct path for her table.

  She shifts back in her seat, watching mutely as he bows before her and slides into the booth facing her.

  “Forgive me for joining you unannounced,” he says, and his voice is smooth and low. She meets his pale, pupil-less gaze, taking in his fine, aristocratic bone structure and the unerringly straight line of his back. His leaf insignia is displayed across his forehead.

  “My clan has insisted that I make an introduction to you in hopes that you will accept their offer, Sugawara-san.”

  Miyu fights the urge to let her lips twitch up into a smile.

  “In that case,” she bows her head politely, “it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Hyuuga-sama.”

  “I – My name is Neji,” he corrects rather stiffly, “please, address me as such.”

  “Neji-sama,” she raises a brow, “that’s rather forward of you - we’ve just met.”

  His expression doesn’t shift, but she’s sure she sees a faint pink flush atop his high cheekbones. She can’t be sure in the dim lights of the bar.

  “So,” says Miyu as the hostess returns, placing a dark purple drink before her with a smile, “did you get any say in this whole offer business?”

  He blinks at her for a moment, and then gives his head a small shake.

  “Ah,” she sips at her drink, and the sweet taste of berries meets her tongue. She sets it back down on the table between them and offers an apologetic smile, “Sorry about that.”

  His eyes haven’t moved from her face, eerily focused.

  “Why?” he asks, though it sounds like more of a demand.

  “I wasn’t anticipating this kind of reaction from Konoha’s clans,” she admits, wondering if his hair feels as soft as it looks, “and evidently, my actions have affected more than just myself.”

  She bows to him again, “I’m sorry for any trouble this has caused you, Neji-sama.”

  When she looks up at his face he’s still staring intently, as though she’s a puzzle he’s been tasked to solve.

  “You stopped the abduction of one of our children,” he says stiffly, “and you didn’t expect a grand gesture in return?”

  Miyu raises a brow, “I’m not from Konoha. I expected a thank you, maybe the offer of assistance in the future should I require it.”

  He leans back a little, but his expression is still too flat to read.

  “I didn’t expect… this,” she gestures between them, “and to be frank with you, I’m a little at a loss as to how to tell the clans that I am not interested in marriage.”

  Neji is silent as Miyu picks up her glass and takes another sip of her drink. She’s part awed and part afraid that she can’t taste the alcohol. This drink has the potential to be dangerous.

  “Just tell them you’re not interested,” comes a sudden voice to her left, and Miyu squeaks, dropping her glass.

  In a movement almost too quick to see, Neji catches the cup, angling it so that every single drop of alcohol lands back inside.

  Miyu stares at his extended hand, watching entranced as he sets it back on the table between them.

  “Shuffle over, Neji,” the voice comes again, and he does so without question.

  Izumi slides into the booth opposite Miyu, offering her a smirk.

  “Look at you,” her tone is teasing, “getting ambushed in a bar on a Friday night, waiting for your dashing hero to come save you from the dreary Hyuuga-”

  “Uchiha-”

  Miyu cuts Neji’s grunt off with a laugh, “Come on, he’s not so bad! Isn’t there some kind of code for young adults suffering under the expectations of their clans? You should be nicer to him, Izumi-san.”

  “Hah,” the dark-haired woman rolls her eyes, “there’s a code alright. We give each other shit until someone throws a punch, and then we participate in some friendly sparring to let off some steam.”

  Miyu hums and smiles slyly at Izumi before glancing to Neji, “You’re both so pretty, Izumi-san. Be careful not to go for his face.”

  He definitely goes pink then, but is saved from having to retort when the waitress returns with a jug of sake and three dishes. Miyu notes that Izumi must have ordered while she watched the two of them make introductions. She shoots the woman a betrayed look, and Izumi promptly ignores it.

  “I should go-”

  “Stay,” Izumi slides a dish before Neji.

  “The least I can offer you is somewhere to hide from your clan retainers,” Miyu says, watching as the Uchiha pours their drinks with precision.

  “They’ve got every exit covered, including the windows in the bathrooms,” Izumi says blandly, though there’s a definite flicker of amusement in her eyes as she nudges a dish before Miyu.

  “So,” Izumi gets down to business, “the jounin lounge has gone mental over the lack of information – though there was a supposed leak from someone well connected to you.”

  Miyu smiles, trusting the dim lighting to dull her genuine amusement as she says, “Well, I thought it best to ensure that some of the bets get paid out.”

  The woman opposite her cracks a sharp grin, and Miyu continues, “Chikako has given me some wild gossip – my favourite being that I’m a lover from your past who fought their way back to you after years of separation.”

  “I spread that one myself,” Izumi says proudly, “I even included the part about Hana approaching you to add some realistic flair.”

  “I like it,” Miyu nods, raising her dish, “kampai!”

  Izumi – and surprisingly, Neji, clink their dishes to hers and down the liquor in tandem.

  “I heard that you were a paid actress,” the Hyuuga suddenly says as Izumi fills their dishes again. “Hired by the Uchiha clan elders to force the matriarch’s hand-”

  “Oh, speaking of – she’s going to be fuming when she finds out about this – out in the red-light district with the very Hyuuga intended to belittle our clan’s offer, gods!”

  Miyu and Izumi lock eyes, both alight with mischief.

  “We should give them something to talk about, no?” Miyu shifts her gaze to Neji, “And in the name of courting me, you’ll be tagging along, right Neji-sama?”

  The pale eyed Hyuuga lets his lips quirk up into a tiny smirk, and it’s him that raises his full dish first.

  “Kampai!”

  Over three hours later, Miyu is drunk. She frowns at the ridiculously composed forms of Izumi and Neji, sitting beside her on the lounge of a club booth. The nostalgia that had struck her when she passed the joint advertising dancers had been too strong, and she practically dragged the ninja into the establishment behind her.

  Under the low lights, with the thrum of music and the burn of alcohol dulling the pain associated with these kinds of places, Miyu feels a bit more at home.

  She peers a little more closely at the two, watching Neji’s blushing face as a topless dancer twirls artfully around a pole on the stage before them. Maybe he’s a little tipsy by now, too.

  “I feel bad for not inviting Inuzuka-san,” Miyu pouts to Izumi, who is watching the Hyuuga with an amused expression.

  “Oh, don’t be – she’s out of the village right now anyway,” the woman waves her off, “hey, Miyu – what do you think of Neji and this lovely lady here, huh?”

  She’s quite obviously looking to tease him, and Miyu jumps at the opportunity.

  Whirling to the stage, Miyu waves to the performer, and the dancer pauses in her routine to lean down.

  “Hi lovely,” she has to get close to be heard over the loud music, “what are your rates?”

  The dancer’s hand traces the side of Miyu’s face as she recites prices in her ear.

  “Perfect,” Miyu points to Neji, “I’ll get a dance for him, please – here you go.” She pulls a wad of ryo from her pocket, halving the amount and pressing the cash into the dancer’s hand.

  It’s definitely more than the woman’s rates, but Miyu doesn’t really care.

  “He’s a little shy!”

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  The dancer holds a finger up to Miyu in the universal ‘wait a moment’ signal, and saunters off the stage, where another girl replaces her.

  Miyu sits back down, watching gleefully as the woman approaches them.

  “You’re a riot,” Izumi slings an arm around her shoulders, and Miyu just about cackles as the worker beings her routine, to Neji’s mortification.

  “I try,” she grins, resting her head on Izumi’s shoulder for just a moment, “I really missed this scene. Back in the capital I knew all the girls, and all the clubs, and watching them was an art.”

  She faces Izumi, eyes burning but refusing to cry, “My ex-girlfriend is the most famous dancer in the whole district, and I managed her for a time, and it was amazing.”

  “Wait,” Izumi pulls back, brow twitching, “the Fire capital, right? No way, you dated the Sa-chan?”

  “Yes,” Miyu nods gravely, “she is amazing.”

  Izumi whistles lowly, “Damn well she is. And you went for Itachi after her, seriously?”

  “Hey!” Miyu frowns, “He’s the best-”

  Izumi snorts, and Miyu pouts.

  “Look, sweets, I suppose it’s a good thing that I don’t find him anything special, eh?”

  After a moment of consideration, Miyu nods. Then she refocuses to the show before them, grinning as she watches Neji’s flushed face. Her gaze sweeps over the club, and she memorises the faces of the dancers for when she inevitably makes her way back here for information.

  “Izumi,” Miyu looks to the woman, who is smirking at Neji, amused. “Do you work at the police station?”

  The Uchiha shrugs, “Not currently. I served my initial two years, but like most active ninja I phased out. Why?”

  Miyu considers for a moment.

  “I- When I take Itachi lunch, I have a look at the pinboard – but-” she frowns, and though alcohol is burning through her veins, the niggling suspicion that something is terribly wrong resurfaces.

  “Why are there so many children that disappear?” the question is quiet in the loud club, and when Izumi’s dark eyes land on her face they’re clear and focused. “Konoha is a ninja village. I thought people would be safer here.”

  Miyu sits back, thinking.

  “In the capital there were terrible things happening. Drug wars and human trafficking, even children. I thought it would be different here.”

  Izumi tilts her head.

  “I haven’t heard of any disappearances,” says the Uchiha, “what-”

  “They don’t say missing child,” Miyu shakes her head, “but – there’s reports made by orphanages, and sometimes by civilian parents, as runaways. But there are too many, and in such a concentrated part of the village.”

  Izumi is staring now.

  “Something is going on,” Miyu says, “and I’ll find out what it is.”

  Movement out of the corner of her eye catches her attention, and she turns to see the dancer leaning down to whisper something in Neji’s ear. He presses his lips together, watching her as she stands up straight and saunters away.

  Miyu pounces, “So?” she shakes the Hyuuga’s arm, “What did she say?”

  Neji brings a hand up to hide his face, “She told me she gets off shift at two.”

  “Hyuuga, you son of a bitch,” Izumi is suddenly there, “that’s in ten minutes. Lucky we shook off your retainers a bar back. Let’s go, Miyu.”

  “But I want to make sure he waits,” she tries to insist, holding on to Neji’s arm as Izumi tries to lead her away.

  “Don’t worry,” she can hear the smirk in Izumi’s tone, “look at that blush. He’ll wait, if he knows what’s good for him.”

  Miyu gives his arm a goodbye pat, and she and Izumi leave the club. It’s not until they’re out in the crisp, fresh air that Miyu realises how drunk she is.

  “How much did I drink again?” she asks, glad for the support of Izumi’s arm as they make their way down the main street of the district.

  “You had a fair few,” Izumi, at least, seems relatively unaffected by the alcohol, despite the fact that she and Neji had drank almost double what Miyu had.

  Miyu leans her head on Izumi’s shoulder as they walk, hazy eyes watching the street around them.

  “Izumi?” she pipes up after a few minutes of silence.

  “Hm?”

  “Do you think we can be friends?” Miyu doesn’t like how small she sounds, vulnerable and hopeful.

  Soft pressure against her hair – Izumi, resting her own head against Miyu’s – “Yeah. I think we can be.”

  She lets those words settle the slight nausea churning in her stomach, shutting her eyes as she trusts the woman beside her to guide her home. It’s about twenty minutes before they make it to her apartment block, and Izumi insists on walking Miyu up the stairs.

  Lucky she does, because she trips and almost falls about six times before they make it to her floor, Izumi catching her each time.

  They reach her door and Miyu fumbles for her keys, but the door swings open without a touch from either of them.

  She looks up to see Itachi, light from inside the apartment silhouetting him prettily. He looks at her, and then at Izumi. Miyu watches the both of them watch each other, and wonders how long it’s been since they were actually face to face outside of a formal clan setting.

  “Is Miyu drunk?” She hears Naruto yell from somewhere behind Itachi.

  “No!” she calls back, just half a second after Itachi and Izumi say, “Yes.”

  She grabs Izumi by the arm, and with a gentle nudge to Itachi, enters the apartment. She only barely remembers to kick her shoes off, and heads immediately to the couch.

  Sasuke, Naruto, Yamato, and Sakura are playing a game of cards around her low coffee table. Ensui is yawning on her armchair. Kakashi is writing in his little orange-clad book, sat on the couch.

  “Hi,” she greets at large, “what are you doing up so late?”

  “We came to stop Itachi looking for you.” Ensui feeds her the information easily, lips quirking up in an easy grin as he eyes her hands, clinging to Izumi. “Seems like we should have let him go. Izumi, you gonna steal his girl or something?”

  Izumi huffs, but doesn’t pull away from Miyu despite the attention now on them, “No. She’s a little… how do you Nara put it – troublesome.”

  “Hey!” Miyu pouts, leaning into Izumi, “You weren’t saying that when I convinced that bartender to pour us double shots past their shot shutdown.”

  Izumi shakes her head, pushing Miyu onto the couch with more care than she had expected.

  She tilts against Kakashi anyway, because the room is spinning now. Someone settles a hand against her forehead, and she traces it up to Itachi’s face.

  “Hi,” she says, smiling. Kakashi’s shirt is soft against her cheek, and she’s feeling a little sleepy now. “Are you still writing the book, Kakashi?”

  “Yep,” he keeps his focus on what he’s writing, though he’s careful not to shift and disturb her.

  “I think you’re a good writer,” she confesses, peering at the page. Either his handwriting has gotten worse, or her eyes are too blurry to focus, because no words are standing out to her. “So please don't be offended that I’m going to laugh the entire time I’ll be reading it.”

  Sakura snorts out a laugh, and Miyu’s attention is drawn to the card game. Well, the general direction of the card game.

  “Sasuke,” she calls, “I like your earrings.”

  “Thanks,” he says without turning his attention away from his hand, “yours are cute, too.”

  “Aren’t they?” she sits up too fast, and almost topples off the couch. Kakashi’s hand darts out to steady her, tugging her back to his side. She drops her head to rest against his arm, sighing and feeling woozy.

  “Here.”

  A glass of water in front of her, and Miyu smiles up at Izumi as she accepts it.

  She takes slow sips, eyes feeling heavy, and reaches out to pat Izumi’s hand as the woman takes a seat on the couch beside her.

  For a few moments, the only sounds come from the card game as they each set their hand down.

  “This is nice,” Miyu hums, shutting her eyes and enjoying the calm ambiance of the room. Then she sits up, wobbly, “Who wants a drink?”

  .

  Miyu has more free time now that the school is shut until the investigation is over. She likes to think that she puts herself to use, visiting the station every day before heading to the Flower district. There, she finds dancers and club managers, talks to the working girls at some of the brothels – paying them all for their time, of course.

  What she learns disturbs her. Working girls, approached by masked ninja, and offered money to seduce shinobi of various bloodlines. Their children, whisked away, the pregnancy marked as a miscarriage when others in the building swore they heard a child’s cries. Some of the women had died in childbirth rather suspiciously.

  Every person she talks to, every bit of evidence she gathers, creates a huge, tangled web seeped in hearsay and terrible implications. She wonders when she’ll be able to see the spider.

  She enters the calligraphy class, ignoring how many of the already seated women suddenly halt their conversations at the sight of her.

  The woman who had tried to so kindly ‘warn’ her of Kakashi is nowhere to be seen.

  She takes her usual seat, a little surprised to see the Hyuuga woman already occupying the seat beside her.

  “I heard you had a rather eventful night with Neji-kun,” she seems amused, pale gaze focused on the ink she’s grinding.

  “I’m sure you did,” Miyu says pleasantly, eager for this evening when she can get Chikako to tell her the best rumours, smiling politely, “how is Junpei-kun?”

  “He’s well,” the woman – Shiori, Miyu remembers – smiles, “luckily he hasn’t been too affected by the near kidnapping. Besides, the resilience of children never ceases to amaze me.”

  “That’s good to hear,” Miyu wants her routine back to normal, wants to see the children and their painfully cute faces. She opens her mouth to ask something further when a man appears in the doorway, face stern and gaze searching.

  She recognises him instantly as an agent at the bank she’s been dealing with, and stands to meet him with an apologetic smile to Shiori.

  “A word, Sugawara-san,” he says lowly, and they both step out into the street. “I apologise for seeking you out, but the request arrived this morning and the manager thought it a matter of great importance.”

  He hands her a scroll, and Miyu takes it and opens it without hesitation.

  Her eyes skim it’s contents, and she struggles to keep her brows from rising in surprise.

  “This…” she looks up to the man, “is this something that must receive approval from the Hokage?”

  He nods shortly and Miyu sucks in a short, considering breath.

  “Hm.”

  She rolls up the scroll, inspecting the broken wax seal and deciding not to comment on it. The bank had probably been notified by the security team that screened all mail in and out of Konoha, and to be fair – this was something fairly significant.

  “The Hokage wishes to meet with you in two weeks’ time to discuss this matter formally. As it involves another Hidden Village, I’m sure you can agree that it is a necessary move.”

  “I agree fully,” Miyu assures him, even though a part of her sours at anyone but herself having a say in this.

  But she’s never heard of a Hidden Sound village. She knows nothing of their relationship with Konoha, nothing beyond the fact that they are located in Rice Country, and now – that they want to buy a large chunk of her land that sits along the abundant border of Fire and Rice.

  A rather finnicky political situation, one that requires her signoff and nothing more.

  An important piece on her board, to be bargained between two men without her input.

  Mood soured, she returns to class, and completes it in silence. Shiori seems to understand that she doesn’t want to talk, and though Kushina hasn’t attended a lesson since the first week, her seat remains empty.

  She manages an absent goodbye to Shiori before she makes her way back to her apartment, absorbed in her thoughts. That land is one of her most prosperous investments. When she bought it, it’d been nothing more than an expanse of densely wooded river land.

  She’d cleared a large portion of the forest to begin a still-successful lumber export business dealing mainly with Hotsprings and Frost Countries before hiring agricultural specialists to make the best use of the cleared land possible.

  One of her first investments after she’d paid her debts to Mother, it’s been almost eight years since the first fields of wheat were planted. She has smaller farms dedicated to other vegetable produce, but the temperatures had favoured wheat and millet most, so they were her largest exports – at least for the last six years or so.

  She’s got whole rural communities doing the labour-intensive work, which she pays them well for. She’ll have to check their most recent census to find the exact figure, but she’s sure at least twelve-hundred people occupy the land that she bought and cultivated.

  Existing villages had grown, and a few new ones were established to accommodate for the new boom in work.

  She knows, in theory, that this must be escalated due to the nature of the request from Sound, but gods, is she loathe to let this go.

  It’s hers, earnt on the back of countless shogi tournaments, painstaking research, and continuous hard work.

  She enters her apartment, surprised to find Kakashi lounging on her couch, appearing to be napping.

  “Miyu, yo,” he doesn’t open his eye as he raises a hand to wave at her.

  “Good afternoon,” she greets, neatly toeing off her shoes before she steps into the apartment, “did you have a good nap?”

  “Mmhmm,” he hums, and then yawns. “Your apartment’s ambiance is very calming.”

  Miyu stops what she’s doing to glance around the space. Warm browns and soft creams compose most of the colour schemes. The shelves along her wall are lined with knick knacks, a small shrine and incense, and books.

  The painting of the crow and the cacti on the wall seems to keep watch over the room. The natural light filtering through her balcony doors keeps the room light and airy.

  “I suppose you’re right,” she hums, opening her fridge and pulling out a few ingredients, “stay for lunch?”

  “Make me that braised eggplant again and I will,” he calls around another yawn.

  Miyu smiles to herself and gets cooking. After a moment’s consideration, she makes enough for four or five people, in case anyone else decides to drop by.

  “So,” Kakashi is sitting up on the couch now, stretching. “I want to say ‘I told you so’ in regards to the clans, but I feel like that would just be mean at this point.”

  Miyu huffs, “You told me that months ago, before I’d ever been offered marriage contracts.”

  “And?” Kakashi raises his brow at her, “I still warned you.”

  “Right,” she rolls her eyes, “thanks.”

  He looks like he’s about to retort before he stops himself. His brow furrows for a moment, and he runs his hand through his wild hair.

  “I, uh. Heard about what you said to that civilian in your class.”

  Miyu sighs deeply, shaking her head.

  “Ninja. You're a bunch of gossip mongers, seriously-”

  “Thank you,” he blurts, so unlike his usual teasing self that Miyu pauses in peeling the eggplant to look up at him.

  “You didn’t have to – I’m used to it. But… thank you.”

  She forces herself to stop staring at the tiny patch of skin she can see, blossoming steadily pinker under her gaze.

  Cute.

  “You shouldn’t have to be used to it,” she says. “Besides-”

  Her balcony door opens, and she starts, glad that she hadn’t been holding a knife.

  Sasuke steps in, looking harried.

  Wordlessly, Miyu turns to the fridge, pulls out some cherry tomatoes, and gets to making a dish just for him.

  He looks like he needs it.

  By the time lunch is ready, Shisui is also sitting at her island bench, grinning despite the cast still on his arm.

  The four of them eat and talk, and by halfway through lunch, Miyu’s even managed to coax a laugh from Sasuke.

  Miyu feels like she’s standing on the edge of a blade, and it’s only a matter of time before she tilts one way or another and ends up plummeting head-first into an unknown challenge – but right now?

  With Kakashi scribbling in his orange notebook, Shisui retelling the capture of a con-artist and his part-pet-part-accomplice monkey, and Sasuke shooting her a grateful smile over the rim of his teacup?

  She thinks that she can live in the now, enjoy the now, and deal with whatever opponent life throws her as they come.