Chapter 6: Arc 1: Chapter 4

I've been told this chapter is a little... visceral, and at least one person has told me it's a tiny bit too much. So uhh... fair warning and all that.

 

Chapter 4

 

It'd only been roughly two weeks since I was introduced to hell.

The place that had once been my safe haven with its light purple walls and soft aroma of lavender, had become yet another extension of my torment.

A lingering touch on my shoulder blade.

"How can two people who wish death upon each other so much, completely flip and be so…"

Gross.

I shuddered as I felt a burning hot caress on my—her. Her!— hips. The scalding touch of a stranger, yet her body responded in delight. I felt it all. As if it were me in her place.

And I hated it.

A rough hand grasped my throat, while my lips bruised—yet not.

I felt the lust of the young Yamanaka couple, their need for more. Always more. I felt insatiable.

I loathed it. I loathed them.

My chakra and blood both roiled in suppressed rage at every unwanted touch. Every whisper that made me shudder. Every… I wanted nothing more than to peel my own flesh, so as to scrub it clean from all of… that. To tear down the walls and scream and scream and burn and—

I distantly heard my name being called, but I couldn't move. Everything hurt. My very veins felt like a hot conflagration. My lungs were laboured. My muscles were cramped. I curled in on myself, and my thighs burned in rejection.

I took a deep shuddering breath, intent on finding calm. I tried to find my center, I really did. I tried to meditate, but it has been more and more difficult to even entertain the notion. I didn't even have to look for distractions, they found me. They found be and they screamed at me. Sometimes they caressed me. Sometimes they cursed me.

The constant barrage of foreign touches was both exhausting and revolting.

I heaved. But nothing came free.

I hated them and I wanted them gone gone gone.

It was exhausting in a way I hadn't even dreamed possible. With a whimper, the futility of my situation really started to set in. This… really was to be my new norm.

Hot tears burned down my face.

Fury and shame.

I caught a curious whiff of something sweet and hot. Pungent. Like burning melting metal. I couldn't quite place it.

I lay trapped in a hell of my own, and I was ashamed to say that a small part of me yearned for the Shinigami's caress.

It'd have been a blessing.

My fury only rose at that niggling thought.

My door creaked open and slow, patient footsteps walked in. I looked on with wide pained eyes upon my dad, I felt his shock and his sorrow more than I could see it, as tears marred my sight. His voice cracked, "Poppy… wha—what's wrong?"

I couldn't find the words, I choked when I opened my mouth. I turned a scathing glare to my wall, and I heard him curse under his breath. And again. And again.

I turned back to him and he looked furious, and resigned, "We're moving out. Tonight," he sighed and picked me up. I nodded into his chest. "We have a more solitary compound we can stay at," I nodded again, I didn't want to trust my voice. I couldn't.

I felt weightless for a moment, before we appeared in a new location, and there was… silence. No barrage of emotions. No unwanted tou—

Breathe, Ino.

The quiet was disconcerting at first, but I quickly slipped into its comforting embrace.

We stayed like that for a while, I shivered as I felt cold. So cold. My fathers' warmth was ephemeral as it dissipated upon my touch.

I felt myself unravel at the seams. I was laid bare for everyone to see.

I whimpered.

I breathed.

I retched.

The heat returned as a growl left my throat unbidden. I felt a need. A need to rage at the world for all its wrongs. I wanted to lash out. But… I was an heiress. An heiress did not throw inane tantrums.

Eventually, my breathing returned to norm. Dad brushing my hair certainly helped me calm down. It was soothing in a way that I'd forgotten about. I cringed as I smelled a hint of burning meat—

"—Can you walk?" I groaned with a nod, and he gingerly placed me down.

It was as my feet touched the ground that I remembered that not only had my safe haven been reduced to its own personal hell… I'd been made to start the dreaded physical training.

I stumbled, but my dad caught me.

"Thanks…" I regained my balance, and rubbed my thighs, wincing in pain at my own touch.

I remember how… eccentric the instructor dad called on was. The green outfit he wore caused me physical pain to look at. He took one look at me, and immediately came up with some—in his words, not mine— youthful exercises.

Basically, high knee sprinting. Lots of it. Too much of it, if my thighs were any indication.

And that was only the warmup.

He'd concocted some evil exercise in his dark bowl-cut laden mind; a field was painted in random multi-coloured squares, and dad yelled a colour, and I was expected to jump to it immediately.

Of course, it wouldn't be just that simple.

My dad completely changed the rules, to suit my… gifts. Instead of yelling, he would think about a colour, or a word representing the colour. Like a banana, being yellow. Not only that, he— and whoever else was helping out, would yell and think about conflicting colours and things.

And that wasn't all, no. Oh no. The bastards Shikamaru and Chouji pelted me with blunted kunai—some even being thrown at squares I'd be expected to go to, before I even started jumping. Some at random. Some directly at me.

It was chaos. It was chaos and my entire body cried in agony.

Even now, a full day after my last session, I ached.

To make matters worse, my diet had to stop, of course. Dad convinced me, and I totally didn't whine and complain. Nope. Heirs didn't whine.

Meat. That had been my new diet. Lots and lots of meat. Well, it was a lot in my eyes. It was apparently normal for physically active shinobi.

It was a lot.

But it kept me busy. It kept me from collapsing from thoughts and emotions that were not my own. From unbidden nausea to invasive touches—

"What'll happen to our house?" I asked quickly, as I inspected my new abode. The residence wasn't that large, surrounded by dense forest—the Nara lands, apparently. It was… rustic. Right. That.

In other words, I felt like a hick. The drab brown of the wooden cottage walls would surely grate on me before long.

The distant sounds of a river flowing only added to that feeling.

Dad looked at me with a curious expression, before saying, "Nothing, we can use both. We'll sleep here from now on, though," I nodded, glad for the future moments of respite I'd relish.

"Thanks dad."

"Oh Poppy… I wish you'd have said something earlier," something must have shown on my face, because he immediately wrapped me in a hug.

I returned it, "I wanted to be strong. Didn't want to disappoint you—" his hug became stronger and my bruised muscles groaned at the attention.

"You'd never disappoint me, my little Poppy," I couldn't even be mad at him, not when he said things like that, "Think you can handle school today?"

I groaned, a new layer of exhaustion set in once I'd thought about that, "Fine, the kids are less gross anyway."

The spike of sadness that he had was almost overwhelming, before he crushed it resolutely with practiced efficiency.

Of course, it wasn't all good. Before long, dad had to slip out as Shikamaru and Chouji showed up, and dread filled me as I noticed the blunt weaponry they carried.

At least they knew not to aim for the face.

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I shambled into class, and with each weighted step I groaned. Of course, ankle weights had been added to my training. Luckily, they weren't that heavy.

Yet.

I laboured as I trudged up the unnecessarily numerous steps to head to the back, and with a grunt, I plopped my ass down on my new usual seat beside the Hyuuga heir. Her white eyes never failed to amuse me when they'd widen in shock at seeing just how much I put my frail dainty body through.

And, like clockwork—"Are you alright?"

I groaned as I laid my head down on the beautiful desk. My new refuge away from hell. Even if it was filled with constant noise, both externally and internally. It was white noise, nothing too intrusive, nothing too strong.

My seat-neighbour tittered lightly, and I lamented over the fact that even though her airy laughter gave me energy, the rest of my body just felt drained beyond measure.

I painstakingly shot her an unamused look, "Laughing at my pain now, Hinata?"

Her emotional state went to shock, then anxiety, before she mentally reminded herself that yes, I was kidding, "Oh no… not at all…" her mouth said no, but the stifled giggles said otherwise, "Perish the thought."

She was… a work in progress.

A hand touched my shoulder and… I flinched.

I looked at Chouji, and he looked chagrined as Shikamaru glared at him, "Chouji, remember what uncle said."

"S-sorry Ino."

"It's okay Chouji," my face transitioned to a glare as I switched my target to Shikamaru, "I'm not a child, Shikamaru."

His gaze was as deadpan as he felt, "Adults can get traumatized too, princess."

I appreciated the both of them, really. Chouji wore his heart on his sleeve, and he wanted nothing but to be supportive. And Shikamaru had taken on the mother hen role it seemed. I never thought his lazy ass would ever dedicate itself to something, but here we were.

I dismissed his stare with a groan, and turned back to staring at my desk.

They took their seats beside me, but of course my other seat mate had something to say. She squirmed in indecision, and I could feel her concern envelop me as her determination grew.

I wanted to press, to just say "Out with it already," but I had to be patient here. In the past week, I'd noticed that Hinata had… deep self-esteem issues. And was far too caring for an aspiring shinobi. Especially for an heir. I'd already committed myself to helping, though, so of course I'd do it seriously.

I had to wait, she'd come around.

Eventually, she grew tired of arguing in circles, and for the second time today, in an all too light voice, asked, "Are you okay? I don't mean just physically…"

I turned to look at her—physically, that is. I was technically always looking at everyone around me— and went to answer in the affirmative, but… she was slowly becoming a friend. And I didn't want to lie to friends. Well, not if I couldn't help it.

"Not really," even though I hadn't meant to show that much, my voice was pained as I felt.

She followed up quicker than I'd expected, "Is there anything I can do to help?"

I thought I'd gotten used to her concern, but it still shocked me at how earnest she was. I chuckled, ignoring the pain in my abdomen as I did so, "Just keep being you, Hinata."

She nodded eagerly, determined to see her task through.

And her giddiness thrummed in waves.

My mind drifted during the procession of the day, and at some point in class I drifted back to… that morning. Before I could get too far in my thoughts—thankfully— I felt a sharp sting on my finger, and winced as all my neighbours winced collectively.

That was weird. Was that a chain wince? A coincidence? Did I make them win—

"—Remind me why you're mutilating your hands again?" Shikamaru interrupted my musing with a drily delivered question.

I looked down at the crimson painting my nicked finger, as it poured onto the very sharp shuriken that I'd been flitting through my fingers. He grasped for my hand with a question in his gaze.

I nodded, and said "Dexterity practice," he groaned and took my hand at the wrist, taking out a set of bandages from who-knows-where and got to work. The cut wasn't too deep, luckily, and I continued with my explanation, "Yeah… I need fine finger control or something," I winced as he wrapped my finger in a bandage tightly, "I don't really remember why, been so out of it lately."

My eyes roamed the classroom, before stopping at Sakura. I felt the slight onset of hurt before I resolutely looked away.

With a grunt, Shikamaru finished up and I returned to my… exercise, internally pledging to be more careful.

 

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A bell rang, and sensei brought us out onto the training grounds for the dreaded sparring sessions. Normally, I wouldn't have minded it… if I could win any.

Rationally speaking, I knew that the effort would eventually pay off, but it still stung every time I lost to someone who I'd normally be able to beat effortlessly.

I'd already gotten to the point where I could see all of these opponents clearly, but my body couldn't keep up with the precise movements I'd wanted. I was too exhausted. Years of neglect had made this process a lot more painful than it had to be, I know.

Still, I rested as much as I could, and leaned against my new Hyuuga headrest when Chouji went up to spar.

Hinata had taken to sitting with us, it took a lot of effort, and some not-quite begging. Not quite, though. Heirs didn't beg after all.

She didn't talk much, but she felt at ease, which was what I'd aimed for, anyway.

Although, her anxiety did spike when I leaned against her shoulder. Curious.

I'd have used Shikamaru as a headrest but the ass took it upon himself to make it as painful as possible when I'd asked. Also his shoulder was bony. Ew.

"Yamanaka Ino, and… Hidemaru Naoki."

Unfortunately, all good things had to come to an end at some point, and I struggled out of my blissful resting spot and made my way to the field.

Let's just get this farce over with.

Yeah yeah, fuck you too Sensei. I glared at him and trudged up to my position across from my opponent, who I'd… never heard of before.

Oh how the mighty hath fallen.

I didn't need to be an Empath to know that my opponent looked forward to this. His expression told me all that I needed to know. He was giddy in his walk up to the field, and he bounced with every step he took. This was his ticket after all, the Yamanaka heiress was in a slump, and he would capitalize on it.

We performed the Seal of Confrontation, and I sighed as Sensei yelled "Begin!"

He approached rapidly—or, well, as fast as he could, I guess.

He was so… slow.

All the high-speed sparring—i.e. beatdowns by my friends— had a beneficial effect to my cognition speed. The adults theorized that when focused, I'd naturally processed things more quickly. Which meant even though I know he got to me within a few seconds, but to me it felt quite a bit longer.

He came with the Academy Taijutsu style, and attacked with a standard right, into a left. I swayed my abdomen to evade both, and… he quickly abandoned the standard forms, and started swiping with clawed hands.

Sensei really drew for the bottom of the barrel, huh.

I couldn't go for big movements, didn't want to upset my already crying abused muscles, so I evaded as finely as I could. A right hook nicked an ear, but I was nonplussed, and he went for a sweep at my legs, but I was already moving.

As he ducked down, I groaned as my leg snapped up into a fast rising motion, kicking him straight in the stomach. It surely hurt him more than it did me, judging by the fact that he lay on the floor dry heaving.

Huh.

"Over!"

I stood there in silence, staring at him in disbelief.

Eventually my opponent stood up on shaky legs, sadness and resignation filled his very being; I subconsciously performed the Seal of Reconciliation.

I was totally out of it as I trudged back to my friends. My legs moved without conscious effort, and it only sunk in once I saw Shikamaru fight off a smirk while Chouji and Hinata clapped lightly, blinding smiles adorned on both their faces.

Huh. I won.

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