The Slave of Sound

The Slave of Sound
Chapter 7

Shell shocked by the Uchiha’s parting words, the Coalition retreated to their quarters, and there spoke their carefully coded phrases in hushed tones.

To an uneducated ear, it sounded as if they were discussing such mundane things like the weather, past experiences, and the price of tea in China. But to those in the know, other shinobi, it was obviously they were exchanging more than pleasantries. But only the Konohans knew this particular code. Not even Tsunade could have easily understood them. Sasuke had once been a Konohan himself, and any code they knew he could have easily deciphered. No, this one they had perfected betwixt only themselves as soon as they knew their mission.

Neji relayed to Hinata their discussions in a code only known to the Hyuuga, and she then in turn was able to bring Gaara into the light with their own secret tongue, only known to her and the ex Kazekage himself. It had its roots in their shared grief at Naruto’s loss, and was their favorite topic of conversation. It was the only way they could talk to their heart’s content without the ever present Suna council and elders knowing.

Once they had completely debated the events of the meeting, silence fell, thick and uncomfortable. They stood on the brink of war. And though it was something they all secretly cherished, it had unimaginable ramifications, and was not to be embarked upon lightly. It would not be a simple matter of warfare between Sound and Suna and Konoha. The Uchiha’s spider like webs of finance, commerce and obligation spread far and wide, and all nations would be drawn in eventually. It would span the known lands, from breadth to width, and none would escape its bloody jaws.

No… as much as they all craved to avenge their enslaved kinsman and loved one, it was not something they would choose to happen. There had to be another way.

In the ensuing silence that followed their mental defeat, Neji suddenly stood up, startling his companions. He stalked over to where Hinata sat beside her husband on the couch, and suddenly, bent one knee, hand at his breast, head bowed in submissive respect.

Hinata drew in a sharp breath. Surely, she knew the past antagonism her cousin held for her was utterly gone. It had been replaced with a gentle affection. But here was Neji, according her the honor given only to the head of the whole Hyuuga clan. He knelt before her like a warrior before his queen.

“Hinata-sama,” his voice was low, not hushed, and the code words had fallen away. He didn’t care who heard him. He would shout it from the rooftops if such were proper. “Though such a thing is not to be, I would follow you. I would give you my complete clan loyalty, if I could.”

Tears rushed to Hinata’s eyes. Such a thing was not lightly given, even to bloodline candidates, of which she no longer could claim. She had given up such rights and possibilities the moment she agreed to wed Gaara.

Neji looked up, smiled faintly and rose, taking the hands she stretched out to him. “I am free to give my personal loyalty where I choose. I am proud of you, cousin. And I will follow wherever you lead us now. As your cousin, kinsman, and your friend.”

“N..Neji,” she stammered, falling into the childish habit from shock. “Don’t be silly. I am no leader. If anything, I seem to have brought us closer to war, and farther from freeing Naruto from his bondage.” She blinked her tears away, the enormity of her actions chilling her.

“I wouldn’t say that,” Shikamaru’s laconic voice suddenly chimed in. He was staring at a ring dangling from his fingers by a golden chain, holding it out from his neck. It was a gift from Temari, a sign of their betrothal. The ties between Konoha and Suna tightened with every passing day.

“You are just being kind, but…” Hinata began, eyes downcast.

“No,” Kakashi broke in, voice deceptively easy. Sasuke’s parting comments had shot deep into his heart. “Despite his words, you impressed the Uchiha. You took him by surprise, both you and Konohamaru.”

The boy in question stared stubbornly at a spot on the wall. He was furious at not being at the meeting. Oh, he would have done more than verbally confront the traitor. Indeed. Someone would have died in that room. And though, deep down in his heart of hearts, he knew it would have been him, he would not have gone down without a fight. Sasuke Uchiha would have remembered him to his dying days. And if he had his way, the damn Otokage still would. He would cheerfully sacrifice his own life if it meant breaking Naruto from this shameful, debasing slavery, and brought the Sunshine of Konoha back home, where he belonged.

“From the sounds of it,” Sakura broke in hopefully, no less angry than Konohamaru at being excluded from that all important and pivotal meeting, just more mature about containing it, “it sounds as if Sasuke wants us to free Naruto. That he’s angry we haven’t yet.”

Kakashi shook his head slowly. “Not at all. Sasuke has no intention of giving Naruto up, that much is obvious. He’s just angry that women and children have been the only ones to confront him for his misdeeds.” He cast a stern but placating glance at Konohamaru, who looked ready to explode. “Sasuke has never had any use for women or children, either personally or professionally. Or sexually. Despite the fact he still can be counted as two of the three; he’s very young, for a kage and as skilled a Shinobi as he is. And obviously, he was not as asexual as some would have thought.”

Here Kakashi faltered, once again swamped by guilt. Even before Sasuke had defected from Konoha so many years ago, his sensei had not been impervious to the intensity with which Sasuke had regarded his blonde teammate. He’d suspected even then that Sasuke’s vaunted asexuality was a front for something deeper, something more unexpected. Something that involved Konoha’s number one knuckleheaded ninja. And that Naruto had returned that intensity was made glaringly apparent in the years since then, at how fervent the blonde had been about bring his precious person home. Now that Sasuke had his blonde, Kakashi wondered wistfully what had gone wrong between them to bring them to this pass; the cruelty and humiliation the Uchiha heaped upon the hapless boy’s head.

Deep down, Kakashi had hoped that Naruto had simply been convinced to stay by Sasuke’s side, and abandon his dreams of being the Hokage. After all, the boy had set them aside for so long to bring Sasuke home. It was no great leap of faith to think that the Uchiha had convinced him to continue to do so, to travel with him. But when Sasuke popped back up on radar, so smooth, so suave, so very competent and free from his previous dark brooding, and without any word of Naruto, the ex sensei’s heart misgave him. Obviously he’d been grossly wrong in what truly lay in Sasuke’s mind in his and Naruto shared childhood. And Naruto, who’d loved Sasuke unreservedly, had suffered for it.

“If only I had paid closer attention… if only I had acted…” Kakashi didn’t realize he’d murmured the last words aloud. Soft and self-incriminating.

“If only does not serve us now,” Shikamaru spoke up again, still maddeningly twirling his ring on his necklace. “The signs were there for all to see. Don’t feel so alone in your idea that you were mistaken. We all were. Cha, it’s all so very troublesome. If only we could get the Uchiha to give up Naruto and we could all go home and live happily ever after.”

Like Kakashi, the lazy ninja had long ago taken notice of Sasuke and Naruto’s antics. Unlike Kakashi though, who’d been blinded by the inescapable affection for his prize student, notably Sasuke Uchiha, Shikamaru knew that when Sasuke finally broke cover and claimed his own, it would bring grief to Naruto. However, the shadow user had never, ever conceived that Sasuke would take it so far. Despite his wonted placidity and customary laziness, he burned to bring Sasuke to his knees. Burned to utterly destroy the last Uchiha, and consign the cursed bloodline to oblivion. Every time he thought of Naruto now, he felt the insane desire to cry like a child. This is what that selfish bastard had reduced Naruto to. Naruto! The brightest of them all, shining like a beacon in the night, reduced to a pallid, chilly doppelganger of who he had been.

Neji, no less affected by the blonde’s plight than anyone there, spoke crisply. “Regret over the past aids us not at all. It cannot be changed. Immutable as fate.” His lip curled in derision. Fate be damned. Surely it was not Naruto’s fate to die in this place, in this fashion. Not Naruto. “We still have to bring him home. Where he belongs. Where he is fated to be. Home.”

“Easily said than done,” Kiba snarled. His dark eyes burned. He longed to save Naruto from this ignomious fate, and go home to Akamaru, where he could bury his face in his life long friends white silky fur, and give into the raging sobs he so wanted to release. “You heard Kakashi. The fucker’s not going to give up Naruto without a fight, no matter how unimpressed he is with us men, or impressed with women and children.”

Gaara had been silent. Digesting the conversation going on around him. They were drifting into dangerous waters. And then he gave a sudden chilly smile, reminiscent of his homicidal days and leaned forward, lapsing into his code, reminding them all of where there were and what really was at stake.

Hinata started, argued a moment, shivered, and then relayed her husband’s words to Neji.

Neji blinked, sat utterly still for a moment, then gave as creepy as smile as Gaara’s before lapsing into their own code.

“Send in the women and children.” Throaty laughter, almost frightening in it’s rarity and diversion of character, escaped both Neji’s and Gaara’s lips as they put their heads together again.