Adult-FanFiction.org : Naruto

קгєץ
By : Sessakag
Category: Naruto > Het - Male/Female > Naruto/Hinata
Views: 9066 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: Don't own Naruto series just this story.
Chapter List
- 6
- 7
- 8
Chapter Seven
Sweeter Than Ramen
✧༶☽-ˋˏHιɳαƚαˎˊ-☾༶✧

March 22, 2012
“Fifty-two year old congressman, Hiruzen Sarutobi, has officially been reported missing. Officials say video surveillance revealed that he left his office at 5:43 Tuesday evening but never made it home. His wife filed a missing persons report early the following morning, stating her husband of nearly thirty-four years would never stay out all night without letting her know and told on-scene reporters that she fears for his safety. For nearly a decade, the congressman has been under fire by many in the community, accusing the lawmaker of engaging in a number of illicit activities-”
Hinata breezed by the tiny TV perched on the wall inside the break room or rather, break ‘closet’ as her co-workers called it.
Hinata couldn’t help but quietly agree.
Nobody ‘breaked’ in the break room, there just wasn’t enough room for more than two people to take a load off, and not just because there was only two chairs. The room was small, boasting barely enough square feet to cram in the beat-up faded blue, five by five stacked lockers against the far wall opposite the single entrance, and the two warped metal fold-up chairs facing the microscopic television.
Hinata wasn’t claustrophobic but even she felt as though the walls were closing in when she stepped inside.
“-prior to his disappearance, Hiruzen Sarutobi was under federal investigation in connection to alleged, shady dealings with a violent gang out of Iwa, though no formal charges have been filed at this time.”
Her locker was top right, fitted with a heavy silver padlock.
She reached for it, arching slightly on her tiptoes to input her combination. She twirled the dial right to twenty-two, then spun it left to five.
“In other news, an unidentified male has been found dead on the side of highway 11. Konoha police say the man was stuffed inside a barrel discarded a few feet into the dense woods a few yards from the highway guardrail.”
A frown painted her lips as she spun the dial to thirty.
Sometimes it felt like the news stations only had bad news to share with it viewers.
Death, doom and gloom on a twenty-four hour cycle.
She knew it was more so a flaw of the world they lived in, rather than a complete fault of the news network, but she wondered if there were happier stories that could find the spotlight now and again.
Still.
Though she wished for brighter broadcasts, her heart went out to the family of the unnamed man in the barrel, and to the wife of the congressman that was missing her husband.
“-department has declared the incident a homicide, going so far as to state it was quote: ‘one of the most gruesome and disturbing murders the city has seen this year’. This is the fifth murder in which the victim was found along highway 11, and many in the community are beginning to speculate about the possibility of a serial killer active in-”
The padlock clicked and fell open.
Swinging open the little door, Hinata placed her phone and house keys inside, closed and re-secured the metal box with her lock, then unfolded the white apron she’d swiped from the kitchen. Holding the drawstrings, she placed the wide, pocketed front on her lap, then tied it securely at the small of her back.
Once finished, she swept her long violet hair up and into a high ponytail with the white scrunchie on her wrist, and headed back into the humid, heavenly smelling kitchen.
Cheeks flushed, brown hair tied back and netted, Hinata’s soon-to-be manager/head cook, Ayame, was hard at work stirring a huge metal pot on a burner.
Ayame smiled a welcome at her as she entered.
“You’re a life saver, Hinata,” Teuchi’s daughter announced, the relief palpable on her sweat damp face, “I know it was really last minute asking you to come on in so early, but we’re in the midst of a spring break crush. The early bird special is always brutal but the mid-morning rush has been hell. We need all hands on deck the next couple of weeks of spring break.”
“It’s no problem, Ayame-san,” Hinata replied as plucked a guest menu from the little basket sitting on the counter just to the side of the kitchen entrance.
Alongside table menus, the dubbed ‘tool basket’ was filled with stacks of order pads, pens, breath mints and other necessary (and nonsensical) assortments for the restaurant servers.
“I really needed the extra shift,” she admitted honestly, staring down at the food booklet in her hands, “I’m actually pretty grateful it popped up when it did.”
That was an understatement.
She was more than grateful for the shift, more along the lines of weeping with joy for the boost it would bring to her flagging bank account.
Busy shifts usually translated into pretty good tips, she and Kiba-kun were some of the highest tipped servers, the latter often teasing that her looks had a lot to do with the generosity of their male customers, however, their high earnings weren’t reliably consistent.
Teuchi’s small dinner was located in an extremely poor area of Konoha, and the bulk of people that came in could only afford the cost of their meal and maybe part with the left over change on a good day. Kiba could get pretty annoyed by the ‘chump change’, but Hinata, more than anyone, understood. She was among the poor, struggling populace too, and would never begrudge people that wanted to treat themselves with a meal out just because they couldn’t afford to part with more than the cost of food.
These customers were not her employer and tips were not mandatory.
They didn’t owe her more than what they were willing or able to give.
She needed money, but not at someone else’s expense.
“Oh?” Ayame chirped, her sly cat-ate-the-mouse grin drawing an amusement from the younger woman, “need more shifts you say? Well! If it’s more hours need, you’re in luck! We’ve got extra shifts up the wazoo! Spring break just started, plenty of pick up shifts for ya, just let me know when and they’re all yours.”
That would help her next month, but if she couldn’t scrape up this month’s rent it wouldn’t matter.
She’d be out on the street before she made it to next month.
“I’ll take any shift you have this weekend,” Hinata announced as she turned and reached for a guest menu inside the little plastic basket that sat atop a counter just to the side of the kitchen entrance.
Alongside table menus, the dubbed ‘tool basket’ was filled with stacks of order pads, pens, breath mints and other necessary (and nonsensical) assortments for the restaurant servers. She couldn’t help but chuckle silently at the little white puppy dog keychain sitting at the bottom that she knew had to be Kiba’s doing.
“Say, Hinata…” Ayame murmured quietly.
She turned, smile fading at the strangely soft look in her manager’s eyes.
Leaning towards her, Ayame asked, “don’t uh, take this the wrong way, but…do you need another advance?”
Startled that Ayame knew anything about her financial woes and was openly, though discreetly, discussing them, Hinata stood wide eyed and mute.
Ayame pushed on before the stunned woman could come up with a convincing deflection.
“I know it was something you wanted to keep between you and dad,” her manager acknowledged apologetically, “and I totally respect that, but you know, dad’s been training me to take over and I have access to his personal financial records…”
Hinata cringed internally.
By ‘personal financial records’ she meant Teuchi’s off the books cataloging of the restaurant’s under the table employees.
Upstanding, goody two shoes Hinata Hyuuga was an illegally paid employee.
Seemed as though she could never really come to grips with who she had once been and who she was now.
“I saw the marks in the book and read over some of the notes…” she continued, ducking her head, seemingly starting to understand how bad it all sounded, “I’m making a mess of this, doing that thing where I stick my nose where it doesn’t belong and jump into crap without thinking. What I’m trying to get at is that I really like you as a person, Hinata. You’re always kind to everyone you meet, always willing to lend a helping hand. Dad likes you too, you know? You work hard, never complain and our customers can’t shut up about you, but…dad’s kind of a hardass. He probably didn’t say it the last time you asked for early pay but he uh, wasn’t too keen on it…”
Embarrassed heat crept up Hinata’s neck, slowly creeping into her pale cheeks.
“Long story short, I wanted to…look out for you,” the older woman admitted, “dad’s bullhead and tight fisted but it wouldn’t be impossible to convince him to open his wallet one more time.”
Sufficiently mortified, Hinata finally dislodged the words stuck in his throat.
“Oh no, no, I’m fine, there’s no need,” she refuted, waving embarrassed hands and praying she sounded convincing, “b-but I appreciate your concern Ayame-san, really…”
As much as she probably needed to take Ayame up on that offer, Hinata wasn’t comfortable pushing her boss’s goodwill more than she already had.
She had already gotten a pay advance twice in the last three pay periods.
Ayame was right, Teuchi hadn’t looked too pleased the last time, though he hadn’t said anything as he handed her the money. Hinata learned day one through the co-worker gossip mill that her boss was extremely tight with money. According to the grapevine, only one server to date had come away with pay advances; a former ‘star employee’ that ‘bust his ass day in and day out’, or so Kiba described.
Hinata had been deemed the second coming of that voluntary ‘ass busting’ employee, and unbeknownst to them, the second server to get the tight fisted Teuchi to shell out coins earlier than payday.
That’s how she knew Ayame’s words weren’t just flattery.
Teuchi only respected hard workers.
Hinata wanted to maintain that respect, and asking for a third advance wasn’t the way to do it. Not to mention, even with the advance she still wouldn’t have enough to make ends meet. To her mind, there was nothing to gain from potentially burning bridges only to still come up short.
Besides, she had one more option to get the money on her own before she really had to start panicking.
“My financial situation is tough at time but I think I’ll be okay,” Hinata said, speaking both to Ayame and herself.
The older woman gave her a concerned once over before heaving a resigned sigh and returning to stirring, “alright, but if you do end up needing it, let me know and I’ll talk to dad.”
“I will, thank you,” she murmured, silently hoping she wouldn’t.
“No problem, Hinata. I-”
“Hey, ‘Yame, gotta minute?”
Both women turned in the direction of the male voice to see a familiar man standing in the doorway of the ‘employees only’ door, holding the metal swing panel open and looking expectantly at her manager.
Kankuro was one of the many delivery personnel that stopped at Teuchi’s three to four times a week to drop off packages, though, Hinata wasn’t really sure what supplies Kankuro delivered. Unlike many of the others, he never wore anything close to an official uniform, and the tan boxes he brought were always nondescript and lacking company or any expected identifying labels.
Today was no different.
He was wearing a dark sweatshirt with the hood raised over his brown hair, casting the interesting purple lines of his facial tattoos in shadow, the tips of his black and white chucks poking out beneath the hem of his baggy deep green cargo pants. He was carrying another of his packages underneath his arm, but what drew her attention was the look on his face.
There was tension there.
His black eyes were narrowed, and held a seriousness she didn’t usually see in them. Though they rarely spoke beyond his head nod and her friendly wave, Kankuro usually wore a very laid back energy.
Ayame’s stirring slowed to a stop.
An intense beat passed between them before the brown-haired woman twisted the dial on the stove, dimming the fire beneath her pot, and followed him from the kitchen.
Hinata blinked as they disappeared, pondering briefly on the strange encounter.
Maybe the contents of the package had gone bad or been damaged, wouldn’t be the first time something like that happened. Just last month a package of ceramic ramen bowls met with an unfortunate accident at the hands of a rookie deliverer that forgot to tie his shoes.
She hoped this wasn’t a repeat.
Teuchi hadn’t been happy about the incident and everyone spent the rest of the work day on pins and needles, trying to tip toe around his silent but suffocatingly poignant bad mood.
Guess she’d find out later.
Shifting her mind back to work, she reached into the basket, scooped up a fresh pad and pen, popped a mint and headed through the doors.
The diner, unlike their break room, was wide and spacious, though pretty basic in terms of the seating plan. Bright red booths at crisp white tables lined most of the eggshell painted walls, taking advantage of the sizable windows and their not so interesting view of the trash ridden, usually busy street. More traditional seating sat in the middle, gleaming white tables fitted with red dining chairs. A small line of carmine colored barstools were placed along the lone island jutting from the open windowed wall separating the kitchen from the dinning room.
She glanced over her designated area of booths and tables, looking for the golden haired man she’d seen in one of her booths only to find it was empty.
She peeked at the clock hanging over the restaurant entrance.
She hated to think she’d left a customer waiting so long they left, though, it hadn’t been more than five and a half minutes since she’d seen him.
She frowned thoughtfully.
Maybe he just didn’t have time to wait.
A customer abruptly realizing they didn’t actually have an extra ten minutes to scarf down Ichiraku’s specialty ramen before trudging to work was a very common tale.
Shifting gears, she decided to make her rounds of the other tables occupied by the lingering elderly patrons instead. With ease, she slipped into the role of hostess, greeting and smiling, gently inquiring if anything was needed and settled into the familiar routine of filling drinks, taking last minute side orders and chatting lightly with her more friendly customers, though she had to be careful with patrons like the one she was currently pouring tea for.
While sweet and funny, Granny Chiyo could talk for hours and hours on end.
Hinata didn’t mind sitting and chatting with the elderly woman, unfortunately, she was on the clock.
“-and that brother of mine fell for it again!” she chortled loudly, her quirky laugh drawing a reluctant smile from Hinata.
“Chiyo-san,” she teasingly cajoled, “surely there are less…traumatic ways of teasing your brother than pretending to pass away…”
“Bah,” the old woman dismissed with a careless wave, “he’s too old to be fooled by anything else. Been teasing him all our life, he can see through my old tricks even with his cataracts.”
Hinata couldn’t help feeling sympathy for the poor elderly man as the woman cackled again.
“I’m sure he can. Is there anything else I can get for you?” Hinata asked, politely guiding the conversation to close.
“Hmmm,” the granny hummed, looking down at the table, “tea, napkins, and Teuchi’s ramen. Unless you can turn back the clock for this old woman, then this is all I need.”
“Unfortunately, I can’t help with that last one,” Hinata giggled as she gathered her tea pot, “but if I come across a time machine in the break room, I promise, you’ll be the first person I tell.”
Another round of cackling followed that promise, “well aren’t you sweet, gonna hold you to that!”
“Then we’ve got a deal,” she smiled back, “I’ll be back to check on you in a little while, Chiyo-san. Enjoy your ramen.”
Pot in hand, pace clipped and purposeful, Hinata headed down an aisle of tables towards another table that was also waiting for a tea refill. She was zipping passed the juncture between the bathroom hallway and dining area when she found herself face to face with Mr. Mystery.
Or rather, face to chest.
Hinata would readily admit that she was not any variation of tall.
While some bemoaned being short, she had accepted years ago that she was eternally height challenged, however, there were very few times in her life where she felt as small as she did right now.
This towering man dwarfed her.
He wasn’t just height either, there was bulk attached to his tall frame; and while he wasn’t professional body builder overly bulgy, she was pretty certain he could probably bench press three times her weight without breaking so much as a sweat. She’d gotten a glimpse of the strength lining his body in the broadness of his shoulders while he sat at the booth, but confronting the reality of the full package was much more…impactful.
His dark, tangerine, three-quarter-sleeved shirt looked molded to the hard chiseled planes that comprised his chest and abdominals, each granite ridge broadcasting what could only be deemed stringent dedication to all things gym.
Maybe even more eye catching than his physique, were the colors gracing the tanned skin his short sleeves left bare.
He was liberally tatted beneath his clothes.
His corded forearms were inked all the way to his knuckles, and before she could make out the two words the letters spelled, he moved.
His scent reached he as he took a step closer into her personal space, filling her nose with a citrus, wholly masculine smell she couldn’t put name to, and though attractive, heightened the overwhelming intensity exuding from his massive form.
She resisted the urge to take a step back, instead, tilted her head up, then up some more.
Vivid hues and elegantly curved lines of ink stretched beyond the neckline of his shirt, twining up and around his neck. She followed the body art to the face of the man eclipsing her senses with the heavy force of his mere presence.
She noticed the scars first.
Three horizontal, jagged lines on each side, carved so painfully deep into his cheeks her stomach clenched, leaving her to wonder what manner of horror had etched them into his flesh.
She could only imagine the tale was one that would tie her already distraught tummy in deeper knots.
He dipped his head, catching and holding her eyes with his own.
They were a startlingly beautiful blue, glinting with the sharp clarity of a predator, demanding every ounce of her attention while simultaneously setting her on edge.
She felt…enthralled, pinned in place beneath the weight of all consuming sapphire.
Her mind whispered a single word.
Danger.
This man was dangerous.
It wasn’t just his meaty, granite musculature that made the hairs on her neck tingle or the steely directness of his gaze that sucked the air from her lungs.
It was something much more elusive.
More intangible.
It was his vibe.
This…cloak of carefully controlled aggression radiating from his form, this powerful sense of intensity vibrating within the confines of his body. Like she was standing in the presence of a beast at rest, calm on the surface yet poised to strike at a moment’s notice.
Then he smiled at her, a slow, deliberate upturn at the corners of his mouth, bringing those scars back into play, lending him the appearance of something she couldn’t put name to…
Her stomach dipped as his lips parted, showcasing pearly whites, his slightly longer canine coming into view.
It hit her abruptly.
A fox.
That’s what he looked like.
A vulpine predator wearing human skin.
His crop of shiny blonde locks only added credence to the description fluttering through her mind. Thick as a lion’s mane, tousled and messy as though he’d spent the afternoon making love with some lucky woman that couldn’t help but rake desperate fingers through his hair. On anyone else, his unkempt hair would be just that, unkempt, but on him it made him look wild, raw and more handsome than she thought was legal.
Even his voice, which startled her a bit when he spoke, seemed customized to the predaciousness of his outward appearance.
It was a deep throated timbre, husky with a rasp she felt in a place she probably shouldn’t.
“Military vet. Five years. Got medically discharged,” he explained, running a finger across one of his scars.
It took a moment for her to connect the dots.
A replay of the last thirty seconds flowed through her mind, a moment in particular of him dipping his head to catch her gaze…
…which had been openly, and quite rudely, focused on the gruesome remnants of his facial wounds.
Blushing furiously, shamed by her own behavior, she sputtered out, “I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to stare-”
“They’re on my face, hard to miss ‘em,” he remarked with a careless shrug, unbothered by her rudeness but seemingly amused by her flustered apology.
There was a grin tugging at his lips, a teasing light in his deep blue eyes that coaxed more heat to her cheeks. Embarrassment and shame made short work of her conscience, but his words quieted some of the alarm bells in her head.
He was ex-military.
That explained so much.
The scars, the intimidating aura, even his impressive physical fitness, their origin was far less nefarious than what her mind had instantly contrived. This wasn’t the first time she had come in contact with service men, and though this man seemed a bit different than many she met before, he wasn’t far off from them. They all held that undercurrent of danger, that uncomfortable hardness in their eyes born of life experiences many people could never fathom while tucked away safely inside their country’s borders.
It was that connection, that dose of rationality that unfurled the knotted uneasiness in her stomach.
As relieved as she felt, the easing tension left her with no small amount of abject mortification.
Hinata wasn’t a judgmental person, or she rather, she strove not to be. She always tried to treat every person she encountered with dignity and kindness, and it disturbed her deeply that she had jumped to conclusions just because this man looked different than what she was used to.
Tattoos didn’t make one a criminal.
Scars, and muscles and intimidating height did not a bad person make.
Outside appearances were just that.
Appearances.
Who a person was on the inside, what they were capable of, was not something one could discern on a superficial glance.
She should know that better than anyone.
She was in no position to judge anybody, not with her past, and even if her life hadn’t gone the way it had, she would never be so arrogant, so cruel and heartless as to look down on anyone, or devolving into the disgusting practice of assigning stereotypes to other people.
That wasn’t the type of person she ever wanted to be.
“Still,” she murmured quietly, “I shouldn’t have been staring, I apologize. Truly.”
She meant it, whole heartedly.
“Do you have a table yet?” she frowned thoughtfully, “I think I saw you at a booth earlier.”
“Yeah,” he confirmed, a somewhat… cheerful gleam in his eyes, “had to step out for a bit, dattebayo.”
“Oh, I see, well, if you’re still interested in a booth-”
“I’m interested,” he asserted, giving her a charming grin and a look so intense it made her tummy flutter.
He really wore that wildness well…
“G-Great…um, we have a special discount for veteran. If you’ll give me a moment,” she said, raising the tea pot, “I’ll come and take your order myself.”
She wondered idly why he hadn’t been seated by the host but glanced at her section for vacancy. Sighting a booth next to the one he’d sat in earlier currently in the finishing stages of bussing, she gestured to it.
“Booth sixteen is almost done being cleaned,” she explained, turning back to the blonde man, “if that works for you?”
“Yeah,” he grunted.
“Okay,” she murmured, shifting a bit restlessly, “um, I’ll meet your at the table then.”
That said, she hightailed it out of there, brushing past him and catching a fresh whiff of his cologne, face burning anew over the fool she’d made of herself.
As she closed in on the table waiting for their refill, she couldn’t help but chance a glance back.
He was still where she’d fled, slightly turned in her direction, and while she couldn’t be completely sure, it looked like his sharp blue depths were fused to her backside.
Their eyes met.
He winked cheekily at her, then strutted towards his booth, hands in his pockets, his stride lazily confident.
Her own eyes dipped down of their own accord.
Blushing for an entirely different reason, she spun on her heel and made beeline for the table, her mind conjuring what her bestie would say if she’d seen what she just did.
She could practically hear Ino excited screeching in her head.
Oh my God, Hinata! Did you just check out that hot guys ass??!!
Yes.
Yes, she actually did just do that.
“Is there anything else I can get for you?” Hinata asked minutes later as she filled the lone cup at the table with tea.
“We’re fine thank you,” the woman at the table responded before giving her a concerned look, “are you alright? Your face is a bit flushed, might be time for a break.”
“O-Oh no, I’m fine,” she mumbled.
No, she was not fine.
She was extremely embarrassed and holding out hope that a giant sinkhole would open up beneath her feet.
-
She was somewhat composed by the time she made her way to his table, mentally striving for the cheery, customer service bravado that usually came naturally to her with each step. She had almost convinced herself that meeting between her and the blonde vet hadn’t been nearly as intense as her flustered mind made it out to be.
She was swiftly disabused of that notion a few from her destination.
He was watching her as she neared, his big body slightly hunched over the table, his tattooed hands resting atop the gleaming surface. The weight of his crystal blue gaze was just as heavy, just as piercing, just as overwhelmingly efficient at arresting her own lilac depth, demanding the entirety of her attention as it was before.
She was back at square one, feeling equal parts fascinated and incredibly exposed.
‘Get a hold of yourself, Hinata,’ she chided herself internally,‘be professional, he’s just another customer.’
Straightening her spine, squaring her slender shoulders, and pasting on her biggest smile, Hinata pressed on to the table, willing the butterflies in her stomach to still as she stopped at his booth.
“Hello a again, welcome to Teuchi’s. Is this your first time eating here?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he replied.
“Great, we’re happy to have you. What brought you to Teuchi?”
He was smiling again, a real sunny upturn of his lips she couldn’t help but return. She found it a bit striking this intimidating sized man could look so disarming charming.
“Passed by this place the other day, and saw something I wanted,” he grinned.
“The ramen, huh?” she guessed cheerily, “we get that a lot.”
Quite a few customers had wondered through after catching a glimpse or whiff of Teuchi’s delicious ramen.
His blonde head tilted, blue depths intensifying, “something sweeter than ramen, ‘ttebayo.”
“Oh, you mean the sakura mochi?”
That was Ayame’s doing.
Teuchi hadn’t really been on board with adding it to the menu as spring season treat, but his strong-minded daughter had nagged him endlessly for months, at the restaurant and outside of it, until she got her way. Teuchi couldn’t say she was wrong in her choice, many of their patrons enjoyed a bit of sweet after their ramen.
“It’s a new menu item,” she explained.
He seemed amused, his grin widening, “oh yeah?”
“Yes, three weeks old as of yesterday. If you like, I can bring you a serving, on the house,” she shifted her weight a bit uncomfortably, “to make up for that…less than ideal meeting.”
He looked pleased, or on the verge of laughter.
“Still stuck on that.”
“Unfortunately,” she admitted, ducking her head a bit.
He chuckled, “I’ll give em’ a try.”
“Great,” she smiled, feeling relieved, “would you like them with or after your meal?”
“With.”
She nodded.
“Here’s our menu,” she said, handing him the laminated booklet, before launching into a rundown of today’s specials and customer favorites.
He opened the menu as she spoke, scanning over the various meals.
She asked, whipping out her pad and pen, “can I take your drink order while you look over the entrées? We have water, tea, coffee, soda-”
“Oolong Special Iced Tea.”
“Oolong tea, got it,” she wrote.
“And an extra large miso pork ramen,” he ordered.
“Miso pork,” she muttered, scratching it down on her order pad.
She took the laminated booklet and stuck it under her arm.
“If I could see your military identification for the discount.”
Leaning back a bit, he dug into his pocket and pulled out an old, slightly bulging black leather wallet. He opened it, giving her an unintended glimpse of the reason it was bulging.
She averted her eyes politely, wondering if she should warn him it wasn’t safe to walk around this neighborhood with so much money.
She was sure he could take care of himself better than most, but still…
He whipped out a card then offered it up to her.
She checked the relevant information, then gave him a smile as she handed it back to him, “all set. Thank you for your service. I’ll have your ramen out soon.”
With that, she hoofed it back to the kitchen, feeling a bit more confident in herself now that the two were thoroughly entrenched in the familiar roles of waitress and patron.
All she needed to do was follow the script.
She dropped off his order to the cook that seemed to have taken over for Ayame, then filled a cup of tea. She trotted back to the veteran and sat on his table, then was off again.
She picked up another table’s order, then spent the next few minutes it would take for his meal to cook ping-ponging between customers. She was thoroughly in her element when she returned to his table, carrying his big, pipping hot bowl of ramen and side dessert on her serving tray. She set up the tray holder, sat the tray on top, then grabbed the bowel with her mini oven safe clothes.
“Careful, it’s hot,” she warned as she carefully placed the bowl between his lax hands, her eyes snagging on his ink.
With his hands nearly flat on the table, she could read the words etched into his knuckles now.
Hunt on his right.
Prey on his left.
Both in bold, black, goth style font surrounded by the deep forest green and vibrant orange designs stretching over the back of his hand from his forearm tattoos.
Maybe it was a military mantra?
“Is there anything else I can get for you?” she asked.
“I’m good,” he told her, that rasp in his voice deepening, “for now.”
The way he said it, the look in his eyes, gave her pause, but as he dug into his noodles as though they weren’t scalding hot, she chalked it up to the undercurrent of hyper awareness that fluttered in her stomach around this mysterious scarred man.
-
“Good night everyone,” Hinata murmured, smiling tiredly and waving at the kitchen staff.
After a round of good nights, Hinata was out the door, trudging to the bus stop.
Ten hour shifts were exhausting, but she felt good about her days work, even more so considering she was far closer to reaching her rent goal than she thought she would get.
The tips today had been more than amazing.
Her cheeks heated.
Or rather, one in particular.
So amazing that she felt a little…uncomfortable taking it.
Hinata could acknowledge that many of her customers tipped high because of her looks, it flustered her a bit, but it never made her feel out of sorts, somehow, it was different with the blonde man.
Maybe it was the low frequency awareness that flowed between them, that was something new to her. She had never had an interaction with a customer like that, not where it was a mutual thing between them. Or maybe it was the fact that he’d left her a bigger tip than any customer had ever given her.
She was leaning towards a combination of both.
Hinata had nearly keeled over when she returned to his table fifteen minutes after serving his meal only to find him gone and two sets of paper left behind. Unrolling the first, one messily written word, and ¥1600 presented itself. Though it was a bit hard reading chicken scratch, she’d been able to make out the word ‘food’.
The other folded paper was much like the first; one word, and money, though this one contained far more rolled bills totaling ¥41,800. The word attached was clearer this time and yet her brain had had a hard time comprehending.
‘Tip.’
It was an extreme overpay.
While she fretted over the money, her co-workers had pelted her with questions over this new customer with deep pockets.
She shook the thoughts from her head as the bus rolled to a stop in front of her. She got on and rode it ten minutes down the road.
Her heart launched into a gallop as she descended the metal steps.
This was it.
Her big, probably really stupid, plan to make quick money.
Gulping, she stared nervously at the building across the street.
Tan walled, dark windowed, a big neon sign of a curvy woman’s silhouette next to the name of the establishment.
Ruby Tips.
Her own face was brighter than a ruby as she crossed the street.
There weren’t any lines outside to get in, but she suppose it was still ‘early’ in the evening for this type of entertainment.
The sun hadn’t completely set.
Feeling a bit faint, she made her way through the parking lot and up to the reflective door of the strip club, mentally chastising her slow gait to her doom. She didn’t know why she was dragging her feet, it wasn’t like she was an innocent soul.
She had done far worse than take her clothes off in front of strange men.
Sick turned her insides to much, an insistent buzzing filling her ears. She sucked in a silent breath, then another, quietly willing her pounding heart to cease.
The roar of a motor startled her.
She whipped around, spotting an orange vehicle on the street making an aggressive u-turn. Several cars honked, but moved out the way.
“You comin’ in lady?”
Her head snapped back around.
A tall man dressed in all black stood holding open the door.
Was she coming in?
She didn’t want to, but…
She had to do this.
She didn’t have a choice.
Hinata wasn’t stupid, she knew the three astronomical increases in her rent over the last six months wasn’t normal, that her cruel, money hungry landlady was jacking up the price because she could. Hinata had little recourse, like her employment at Teuchi’s, she was a tenant that wasn’t legally on the books, a fact her landlady weaponized monthly.
The first time it happened, Hinata started looking for somewhere else to stay, another renter willing to give her a place without paperwork.
She hadn’t had much luck, and by the second increase, she’d lost her savings.
Now, she couldn’t afford to move even if she found another place.
She was trapped unless she did something to dig herself out of the hole.
Taking off her clothes was a small price to pay for freedom…
“Um, hi,” she croaked, “I-I was wondering if I could speak to Genma. My friend Ino-.”
The man bobbed his head, then stood back to let her inside before she could finish.
It was cleaner, less seedier than she’d been expecting inside, but she supposed that had to do with the lack of customers at the moment.
Bright pink and blue lights glinting from the ceiling, cutting through the darkness of the room and coaxing an intimate, yet exciting feel to wide space. Three rounded, interconnected stages, each fitted with shiny, silver poles, sat in the middle of the room, surrounded by a sea of circular tables and chairs. Two men dressed in crisp white shirts and neatly pressed slacks sat in front of the middle stage dancer who swirled her body to the bass pounding beat.
Hinata looked down at her toes as the woman’s bikini loosened.
“Stay here,” the bouncer grunted.
Hinata spent the next three minutes fidgeting, fighting not to give into the urge to flee.
All too soon, Genma made his way from the door behind the stages.
He wasn’t what she was expecting either.
He had a calm, almost lazy air about him. His shoulder length brown hair was gathered in a ponytail behind him, and his dark eyes seemed friendly. He was dressed a bit like the bouncer, all dark clothes though his belt was startlingly flashy with its glinting gems lining the leather.
Just as she was starting to feel less like running, Genma rekindled that nagging sensation.
He whistled low as he reached her, circling her slowly, his eyes drawn and lingering in intimate places. Hinata willed herself not to flinch, to subdue the overwhelming urge to cross her arms over her chest.
“You say Ino sent you?” he asked behind her.
“W-well no, not sent, s-she just happened to…mention she, um, performed here and was paid well…”
Paid so well it saw her blonde bestie hadn’t needed a second job during her college terms.
“You got the body to make a hell of a lotta money,” he told her, stopping in front of her, “your rack, real or silicon?”
“P-pardon?”
“Your tits,” he clarified, “if you’re natural, gonna need to see if you got any sag going on.”
She couldn’t help herself this time.
She took a step back, crossing her arms over her ‘natural rack’.
Lord above, could she really go through with this?
-
“Hate to say I told you so but uhhhh, yeah, I told you so,” Ino crowed.
Hinata sighed into her cell, defeatedly staring into the distance outside Ruby Tips a minute after bailing like a coward.
“I know you’re not a full on prude, but dancing half naked for a bunch of horny guys is way out of your comfort zone, Hinabun,” Ino teased briefly before muttering, “I knew I should have held off on this internship for the summer like I planned on. If I were still in town you know I’d come shake some ass so you could make rent.”
Torn between amusement, embarrassed and utter exasperation, Hinata gave a halfhearted, “Ino!” before lapsing into giggle.
Not that any type of pearl clutching would deter her ridiculous friend.
Ino was Ino, after all.
“Even if you were in town, you know I wouldn’t let you do that for me…”
“Like I’d let you stop me,” the other woman snorted good naturedly, “I know where your duplex main office is, and your bitch of a landlady doesn’t give a shit who comes in to pay your rent as long as she gets her money.”
All of that was true enough.
Ino would pay her rent whether she liked it or not, and her landlady would accept the money regardless of who handed it to her.
“Ino-”
“Don’t even start. If I can get up and shake ass for Black, I can damn well do it for a woman that was there for me at the lowest point of my life. I owe you more than a twirl around a pole.”
It said a lot that Ino could finally talk candidly about her self-destructive life when just a few weeks ago, mere allusions to that painful time drew angry, shame laden outbursts. Ino’s black tar heroin addiction had led the young woman to many bright lit stages and dark desolate alleys, therapy had done wonders in nudging her towards acceptance of those unsavory moments in her life.
Hinata was proud of the changes her bestfriend had made, that she’d kicked the addiction and was moving forward, and that was all the ‘payment’ Hinata needed for her part in helping her get there.
“I didn’t help you because I wanted you to owe me anything.”
“You think I don’t know that? I knew what kinda good you were the first time we met, babe,” she said softly, “and its only gotten clearer the longer I’ve known you. ‘Owe’ is probably wrong word. What I’m trying to say is that I really want to be there for you like you were for me. I want to be the kind of good you are.”
“You are good, Ino, don’t say things like that.”
“I can hear the pout in your voice,” she snickered, “really wish I was there to smush those puffed out cheeks of yours, together.”
“I’m serious,” she laughed reluctantly, before sobering, “I wasn’t blind when we first met either. Nothing, absolutely nothing could hide it. It’s there, it’s always been there.”
“Shut up before you ruin my make up,” she sniffed.
Hinata smiled, pacing away from the strip club as she switched her phone to the other ear.
“Still, I wish I could help out,” her friend huffed, “but daddy dearest is still being an asshole.”
Inoichi Yamanaka wasn’t anything close to vulgar term, and she knew Ino didn’t really mean it.
Ino’s father was a kind man, supportive of his daughter in any way that he could be, willing to go the extra mile to make sure she had what she needed, but he was also a believer and practitioner of tough love. Ino started her rebellion in middle school, then went completely off the rails in high school, dragging her father trough hell and back along the way, and though she’d finally righted the ship, and gotten her life on track, it had only been six months since her last bender.
The longest she’d been clean, but not even a fraction of the time she’d spent drugged up and out of control.
“Ino,” she chided.
“Seriously, what’s the point of having a rich father if I can’t even call him up for a few bucks?”
Heaviness bloomed in her chest, despite knowing Ino didn’t seriously mean that.
Rich fathers couldn’t fix everything, and father’s were far more important than their monetary contributions. Hinata would take a caring father over a wealthy one any day.
“Your father’s more than a credit card,” Hinata teasingly pestered, “and when he was giving you money-”
“I know, I know, but come on, I’ve been sober and drug free for months. I’m not going back to the way I was, I told him that and I meant it.”
“I’m sure he truly wants to take you at your word, but…this isn’t the first time you’ve said those words to him, honey,” she reminded gently.
“I know that too,” the contrite blonde admitted, “but I really do mean it this time.”
“I know and I believe you, I’ve seen how hard you’ve been working, Inoichi-san has too, just…give him a little time to get use to the new you, alright?”
“Yeah…I will,” she murmured, “so…what are you going to do?”
That was a good question, one she didn’t have an answer to.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Hope you enjoyed.
Don't forget to review!
Laters
Sessakag~
- 6
- 7
- 8
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

קгєץ	By : Sessakag Category: Naruto > Het - Male/Female > Naruto/Hinata Views: 9066 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: Don't own Naruto series just this story.

קгєץ