Blanket disclaimer: This author reaps no monetary profits from writing this piece of fiction. The main characters are copyrighted to Masashi Kishimoto and his benefactors. The plot was devised purely from this author's emotions and imagination. Any likeness to original, published works is entirely a coincidence.
Revised on June 29, 2007.
The Jailer
by After The Fray
Dedications:
littledoggy
juliagulia1017
Housenka
Arethusa Fellini
crazygirl18
Prologue:
Protocol
"Fervor is the weapon of choice for the impotent."
- Frantz Fanon
Hinata lay in a slump in a corner of the room, the shadows creating an illusion of color in her pale eyes. She was fair, her smooth skin rivaling ivory. Her hair was a mirage of black ink, a shade of ebony so dark and deep one could get lost in that chimera of an abyss. Her crimson kimono brought out what little color was in her cheeks. She was the epitome of beauty in death.
But she was still alive, unfortunately so.
The sound of a door opening stirred Hinata out of her reverie. She scrambled to her feet, bowing low before her husband – not in name, only in deed. Her inky hair stained the wooden floor. "Welcome home," she whispered.
She didn't have to look at Sasuke's bloodstained clothes to know that he had been killing again. The metallic scent of blood was telling enough. Wordlessly, the lithe female disappeared into the bathroom, reappearing with a towel and a small pail of water.
Automatically, Sasuke sat at the low table in the middle of the apartment, shedding his black gi. Hinata wiped the blood off his pale skin – a color so fair it contended with hers – gently. Her touch was smooth, like a butterfly's wing brushing against a flower petal, so as not to aggravate his wounds. However, he had none. He never did.
She always started with his broad shoulders, and she worked her way down his back. Then she would touch his left shoulder lightly, indicating that she wanted to clean his front. Mechanically, he would turn to face her, letting her dab at the blood on his sternum and abdomen.
Finished with his torso, Hinata tugged timidly at the tie around Sasuke's hakama. The black cloth pooled around the young man's ankles, giving her access to the blood that had stained his thighs and calves. Hinata no longer blushed at seeing the Uchiha in his underwear.
What came next was protocol to the pair. After Hinata cleaned him, Sasuke would always want sex with her. There was no tea or dinner first – food was second priority on the Uchiha's agenda.
The first dozen times Sasuke initiated, Hinata had resisted. For the first dozen times they did it, it was rape. Now Hinata knew better than to resist – it was better for them both if she surrendered to him. There were no benefits in fighting the young prodigy.
Sasuke and Hinata lived together like man and wife, but not by choice. They were not married, did not act married even though they took part in activities only married people should, by social standards. They had sex, but that just about summed up their relationship.
Hinata wouldn't even call what they did making love. There was no love in what they did; only trade-offs. They had sex because Sasuke wanted something from Hinata, and she, too, wanted something from him.
Neither of them knew when to stop – usually it was when Hinata got tired, but she never voiced it out to him. Somehow Sasuke noticed her little demeanors – she would get a faraway look in her eyes, her fingers would frequently brush against his right shoulder, her small hands would fist his spiky hair. When she did those, he would stop, and she would be thankful.
She never fell asleep in his arms, because he never slept with her. When they stopped, Sasuke would dress and leave her asleep wherever they did their deeds. It didn't matter if they did it on the floor or on the bed.
Hinata always woke up alone in the mornings. Her clothes would be strewn on the floor, her underwear oftentimes under the table. Sasuke never even left her a blanket to keep herself warm.
That morning, Hinata woke up to the smell of fish and rice. Sasuke had left her a small meal on the dining table. She muttered a quick thanks before voraciously devouring the meal, ignoring the cool morning air that exploited her nudity. She was no longer naïve – she did not find happiness in deceiving herself by thinking that Sasuke loved her, cared about her a little bit, even. He only left her food so she would stay healthy – so they would stay healthy – and give birth to a child whose talents he could maximize.
That was why he took and kept Hinata; he wanted to breed a hybrid of the Byakugan and Sharingan.
Greedily shoving the last grain of rice into her mouth, Hinata piled the dishes into the sink. She slipped on a clean yukata and gathered the dirty clothes – hers and Sasuke's. She noticed a gaping hole in her red kimono. She sighed, fingering the broken cloth. She would have to ask Sasuke for some cloth to cover it up with later.
She passed by the door on her way to the laundry area. She paused, staring longingly at the battered wooden surface.
Putting down her basket, she approached the door silently. Her hands clasped the cold, metal latch of the door. She pulled; it was locked from the outside. A futile attempt to leave the room.
A seal was affixed to the door – it was a technique Sasuke used so that Hinata wouldn't be able to see outside her jail with her Byakugan. That way, she had no idea of her location and no one would be able to rescue her if she ever did manage to come into contact with someone other than the Uchiha.
Hinata pressed her back to the door, slowly sliding onto the floor. She lay limply like that for a while, hands clasped around her womb and a pensive look in her eyes.
She would be trapped within these four walls forever – even after Sasuke's child was born, he wouldn't let her go. He would want more from her.
She thought of enraging the Uchiha – what if she killed their child? She was only six weeks pregnant – it wasn't too late to lose the cursed baby, but decided against an abortion. If she did terminate his child, Sasuke would just fuck her again; make her scream and writhe beneath him to punish her; make sure she would never defy his wishes again. Or if she were stubborn enough, he would just kill her. It was an easy way to break free from that jail – death was a coward's way out, albeit, but it was still an escape route.
Or even simpler, Hinata could just kill herself – but the Uchiha wouldn't stop at her death. He would simply return to Konoha and abduct another Hyuuga female. He would take her younger sister Hanabi, even. As much as Hinata resented her clan for rejecting her, she did not want anyone else to have this unfortunate fate forced upon her.
This was Hinata's burden; hers alone.
Uchiha Sasuke walked around a crowded town, looking for a kimono shop. He was classified as an S-class missing nin – ANBU ninja would vie for his head in every town he walked into. To walk about calmly in the bustling shopping district, he had transformed himself into a young man with brown hair and eyes.
He stopped in front of a large clothing store. An elderly woman greeted him upon entering.
"Good morning, young man! Are you looking for a new set of clothes? I've got some forest green material that would look lovely on you."
Sasuke grunted, eyes darting about the shop disinterestedly – darting about the women's section in particular. He wanted to buy something for Hinata, but it wasn't like he cared about her that way.
As much as she only had a singular purpose to him, he wanted to see her in clothes that looked better than the plain, monochrome drabs she walked around in. Also, he had made a large hole in her kimono last night, in his haste to fulfill his need. He felt slightly guilty for that – but only slightly – because it seemed that that red kimono was Hinata's favourite.
His eyes landed on lavender kimono on display. It had violet flower patterns along the hem and sleeves. The delicate femininity of the design immediately brought Hinata to mind.
Sasuke pointed at the kimono and declared, "I want that one. For my wife, of course."
The elderly attendant smiled slyly. "You've got fine taste there, son. That costs a bundle, though. A hundred and fifty."
Sasuke wordlessly pulled out his wallet. As the old woman flitted to the back of the shop to have the kimono wrapped, his stomach suddenly grumbled. He had forgotten about dinner and breakfast.
He had made some rice and grilled a few fish that morning, but decided at the last minute that his cooking wasn't exactly appetizing. He figured that Hinata would have eaten his leftovers by now.
His thoughts wandered back to last night – he wasn't stupid; he had noticed that Hinata was growing thinner as the bulge in her womb grew larger. She was living for two lives now – she had to eat like two people and some fish and rice wouldn't satiate two appetites.
Sasuke wondered what Hinata liked to eat. He vaguely recalled seeing her eat at Ichiraku's back in their hometown when she was younger. So, she liked ramen too, huh? Just like an annoying blond he knew.
The old woman came back and thrust a huge pink box at him. She held out her gnarled hands expectantly.
Sasuke counted the notes leisurely before handing them over to the elderly shopkeeper. "I'd like to know where the nearest ramen stall is."
He could deny it all he wanted, but it seemed that Sasuke cared for Hinata, even by just a little bit. He may be an avenger, but he still had emotions; feelings he deemed were fleeting moments of whim and weakness. So he tried to discard them; wrap himself in armor by disposing of the shields most humans carried about. Emotions were shields that could easily be bent and broken.
Sasuke's shields had been bent and broken too much; the broken metal let the swords of others – their acts of affection – pierce his flesh and wound his heart. He never wanted to feel that pain again. He never wanted to bleed like he used to.
He was sure that Hinata would never open those wounds again – that was why he chose her, the shy and quiet Hyuuga heiress who was always stabbed in the heart, but never attacked her assailants. He was sure she would never fight back; sure she would never get too attached.
Hinata would never make him bleed.
To be continued...