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Title: Enmugakure
Author: Evandar (yamievandar / hikarievandar)
Fandom: Naruto
Rating: M
Pairing: Hidan/Temari, mentioned Ino/Shikamaru/Temari love triangle and past Hidan/OC.
Genre: AU Adventure/Mystery
Warnings: Swearing, some sexual situations, violence
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto and I am making no profit from this story.
Summary: The secret to defeating the Akatsuki lies in the demolished village of Enmugakure, but only one person knows where it is. Pity he's in pieces...
"Anger and jealousy can no more bear to lose sight of their objects than love."
The Mill on the Floss
George Eliot
Part IV
An Inn in a Market Town
They reached Arenotoshi three days after leaving Konoha. It was the border town that they due to meet their Suna escort at, and they were supposed to have been there around two days ago.
It was a small town, hidden behind high walls. The walls were used not only to defend the town from the strong winds and sand storms that the country was famous for, but had also been used to try and defend it from foreign shinobi in times of unrest. It was, however, primarily a market town and the atmosphere inside reflected that. It was a happy, busy place filled with delicious smells and fascinating stalls.
If they hadn’t been so late, Shikamaru might have been tempted to let Sakura have a look round at the stalls she wasn’t quite unable to stop looking at – he had learned that a happy woman was less troublesome to deal with than an unhappy one, especially when the woman in question could send you through a wall with a flick to the forehead – or let Naruto get something hot to eat. However, they were late, and he was unwilling to risk irritating their Suna escort even more.
So he guided them through the crowded streets, ducking past sales men enthusiastically shoving their wares in their faces, and the busy shoppers who dodged between them looking for bargains. They passed fine silks, spices, more food stalls than he would have imagined – including some that sold something that looked like a barbecued lizard on a stick – stalls that sold glassware, and some that sold beautiful jewellery made from precious stones, glass beads and precious metals. There were stalls that sold shinobi gear, and others that sold exotic outfits.
It was a place Ino would love, Shikamaru thought.
But they had no time to look, so he headed straight for the inn they were set to meet their escort at. He had to drag Sakura past a stall that sold elaborate outfits made of silk, glass beads and coins that would leave very little to the imagination when worn, and march Naruto past a ramen stand.
Hidan, for once, said nothing. He wasn’t even sneering, and Shikamaru wasn’t sure whether to take that as a sign of nostalgia or a sign of the apocalypse. He wasn’t going to take any chances.
He breathed a sigh of relief when the sign of the inn – sticking out from a wall high above the winding street, indicating a narrow doorway into a building that looked exactly the same as all of the others – came into view. He could sit down. He could drink something that wasn’t slightly stale-tasting water. He would be able to get some sleep in a proper bed.
“In here,” he told the others.
“Are you sure?” Sakura asked.
Shikamaru sighed. “Yes,” he told her.
“This place has changed a lot, seriously,” Hidan said, speaking up for the first time since they entered the town. “It’s a lot more crowded. Too many fucking people.”
Shikamaru ignored him. He hadn’t heard of a time, outside of war, that this place hadn’t been bustling with traders and buzzing with gossip, so whenever Hidan had been here last had probably been outside of living memory.
“What was it like last time you were here?” Naruto asked, unable to keep his curiosity to himself. Shikamaru saw Sakura listening in from the corner of his eye, and he sighed. It was too troublesome to start thinking of Hidan as anything other than a murderous psychopath. The rare moments of actual humanity he showed set Shikamaru on edge; he didn’t want to think of him as anything other than his sensei’s murderer.
“This quarter was still being built,” Hidan said.
Meaning he’d last been here roughly eighty years ago, if Shikamaru’s historical knowledge was correct.
He was glad when he reached the top of the narrow slanting stairs that led up from the street-level door, and entered the main bar. It was quieter than the street below, though there was still a buzz of chatter. The ceiling was shrouded in aromatic smoke coming from both the smoking patrons and sticks of incense placed in strategic places around the room. The patrons were seated on thick cushions around low tables, sipping tea.
And there, at a table at the back of the bar, with a glass mug of cooling tea by her elbow, was Temari.
Shikamaru found himself smiling. It was a sign of how quickly Suna had recovered from the Akatsuki attack if Gaara could free her from her political duties long enough to escort them. He headed towards her, and when Sakura and Naruto caught sight of her, they cheered up considerably.
Hidan, on the other hand, stopped dead in his tracks. Shikamaru turned to look at him curiously, only to see that he was staring at Temari with wide eyes; his face pale.
“Come on,” Shikamaru said, his words sounding harsher than he had intended. He didn’t like the way that Hidan’s gaze was fixed unblinkingly on Temari’s face.
“Who the hell is she?” Hidan asked him.
Shikamaru ignored him, and continued to the table, dropping down onto a cushion opposite Temari. Sakura and Naruto had already claimed the cushions on either side of her, and were enthusiastically asking her about herself and her brothers.
“We’re fine,” she said, laughing off their questions. “We’re all doing fine.” She paused, looking up at Hidan, who Shikamaru had just dragged down onto a cushion. She looked at Shikamaru questioningly. “Who’s the cutie?” she asked.
Shikamaru frowned at her question. He knew that she had every right to ask who, exactly, Hidan was, but the way she had worded it bothered him.
“This is Hidan,” he said. “He’s our guide. Hidan, this is the Suna escort Temari. The Kazekage’s sister.”
He finished his introduction with a meaningful glare, which Hidan ignored. Shikamaru wondered if he’d even registered it. Hidan was still looking at Temari as if he’d seen a ghost.
She was looking back, her gaze fixed on the Enmu hitae-ate tied around Hidan’s neck.
“You’re from Enmu?” she asked. “But that’s impossible. You’re way too young.”
Hidan recovered from his surprise at her appearance – mysterious as it was – and leered. “I’m immortal, Temari-chan,” he said, drawing out her name and making a blush rise up in her cheeks.
Shikamaru glared at him. Sakura frowned, looking between the three of them, and Naruto – as usual – looked completely oblivious to the tension rising in their group once more.
“Is that so,” Temari asked. “How did you manage that?” She leaned forward slightly, her lips curving into a smile. Naruto noticed that, and raised an eyebrow at Shikamaru.
“Trade secret,” Hidan purred.
Shikamaru hadn’t realised that Hidan could make his voice sound like that. Sakura raised a hand to cover her mouth, and Shikamaru would have bet a month’s wages that she was grinning. There was a certain curve and shine to her eyes that reminded him of her sensei.
And then Temari glanced at him, and he forced himself to calm down. He had, he knew, no right to be jealous of her talking to anyone, even if the sight of her talking to Hidan made him want to blow the man up into tiny pieces all over again.
“So,” she said. “What’s our route?”
She reached beneath the table and pulled out a map, which she unfolded over the table, shoving her cooling tea to one side.
The map was the most detailed on Wind Country Shikamaru had ever seen, which was fitting as Temari was a Wind Country native. Hidan craned his neck to try and see it the right way up, and Temari elbowed Naruto in the ribs.
“Switch places,” she told him, indicating Hidan.
“Temari,” Shikamaru said. “I’m not sure that’s…”
“Sure,” Naruto chirped, standing up almost immediately. When he sat down again next to Shikamaru, he leaned in close and whispered in Shikamaru’s ear. “Relax. Temari can take care of herself.”
He was right, Shikamaru knew, and he knew that Hidan needed access to the map.
“Huh,” Hidan was saying. “I could have sworn that oasis wasn’t there before. Damn fucking desert changes too much.”
Temari snorted. “Well you definitely aren’t from Wind, that’s for sure,” she observed. “That oasis sprung up during the last Great War. A jutsu blast brought an underground spring to the surface.”
Hidan nodded. “We can stop there,” he said. “It’s on the way, and there’s nothing fucking worse than a trek through the desert without a break.”
“Not like you can die of dehydration,” Shikamaru mumbled.
Hidan looked up at him. “Doesn’t make it a fucking walk in the park,” he replied. Then he bent his head close to Temari’s again, and they began debating about something near the border.
Shikamaru waved one the waitresses over. She was dressed in some sort of skimpy silk outfit in shades of red and deep orange, with coins hanging from the hem of the top over her flat stomach. She jingled as she walked.
“A pot of tea,” he ordered. “Four mugs.”
She smiled at him and nodded. He sighed and rested his elbows on the table, looking at the map Temari was emphatically stabbing with a finger. It was going to be a very long day.
Author: Evandar (yamievandar / hikarievandar)
Fandom: Naruto
Rating: M
Pairing: Hidan/Temari, mentioned Ino/Shikamaru/Temari love triangle and past Hidan/OC.
Genre: AU Adventure/Mystery
Warnings: Swearing, some sexual situations, violence
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto and I am making no profit from this story.
Summary: The secret to defeating the Akatsuki lies in the demolished village of Enmugakure, but only one person knows where it is. Pity he's in pieces...
"Anger and jealousy can no more bear to lose sight of their objects than love."
The Mill on the Floss
George Eliot
An Inn in a Market Town
They reached Arenotoshi three days after leaving Konoha. It was the border town that they due to meet their Suna escort at, and they were supposed to have been there around two days ago.
It was a small town, hidden behind high walls. The walls were used not only to defend the town from the strong winds and sand storms that the country was famous for, but had also been used to try and defend it from foreign shinobi in times of unrest. It was, however, primarily a market town and the atmosphere inside reflected that. It was a happy, busy place filled with delicious smells and fascinating stalls.
If they hadn’t been so late, Shikamaru might have been tempted to let Sakura have a look round at the stalls she wasn’t quite unable to stop looking at – he had learned that a happy woman was less troublesome to deal with than an unhappy one, especially when the woman in question could send you through a wall with a flick to the forehead – or let Naruto get something hot to eat. However, they were late, and he was unwilling to risk irritating their Suna escort even more.
So he guided them through the crowded streets, ducking past sales men enthusiastically shoving their wares in their faces, and the busy shoppers who dodged between them looking for bargains. They passed fine silks, spices, more food stalls than he would have imagined – including some that sold something that looked like a barbecued lizard on a stick – stalls that sold glassware, and some that sold beautiful jewellery made from precious stones, glass beads and precious metals. There were stalls that sold shinobi gear, and others that sold exotic outfits.
It was a place Ino would love, Shikamaru thought.
But they had no time to look, so he headed straight for the inn they were set to meet their escort at. He had to drag Sakura past a stall that sold elaborate outfits made of silk, glass beads and coins that would leave very little to the imagination when worn, and march Naruto past a ramen stand.
Hidan, for once, said nothing. He wasn’t even sneering, and Shikamaru wasn’t sure whether to take that as a sign of nostalgia or a sign of the apocalypse. He wasn’t going to take any chances.
He breathed a sigh of relief when the sign of the inn – sticking out from a wall high above the winding street, indicating a narrow doorway into a building that looked exactly the same as all of the others – came into view. He could sit down. He could drink something that wasn’t slightly stale-tasting water. He would be able to get some sleep in a proper bed.
“In here,” he told the others.
“Are you sure?” Sakura asked.
Shikamaru sighed. “Yes,” he told her.
“This place has changed a lot, seriously,” Hidan said, speaking up for the first time since they entered the town. “It’s a lot more crowded. Too many fucking people.”
Shikamaru ignored him. He hadn’t heard of a time, outside of war, that this place hadn’t been bustling with traders and buzzing with gossip, so whenever Hidan had been here last had probably been outside of living memory.
“What was it like last time you were here?” Naruto asked, unable to keep his curiosity to himself. Shikamaru saw Sakura listening in from the corner of his eye, and he sighed. It was too troublesome to start thinking of Hidan as anything other than a murderous psychopath. The rare moments of actual humanity he showed set Shikamaru on edge; he didn’t want to think of him as anything other than his sensei’s murderer.
“This quarter was still being built,” Hidan said.
Meaning he’d last been here roughly eighty years ago, if Shikamaru’s historical knowledge was correct.
He was glad when he reached the top of the narrow slanting stairs that led up from the street-level door, and entered the main bar. It was quieter than the street below, though there was still a buzz of chatter. The ceiling was shrouded in aromatic smoke coming from both the smoking patrons and sticks of incense placed in strategic places around the room. The patrons were seated on thick cushions around low tables, sipping tea.
And there, at a table at the back of the bar, with a glass mug of cooling tea by her elbow, was Temari.
Shikamaru found himself smiling. It was a sign of how quickly Suna had recovered from the Akatsuki attack if Gaara could free her from her political duties long enough to escort them. He headed towards her, and when Sakura and Naruto caught sight of her, they cheered up considerably.
Hidan, on the other hand, stopped dead in his tracks. Shikamaru turned to look at him curiously, only to see that he was staring at Temari with wide eyes; his face pale.
“Come on,” Shikamaru said, his words sounding harsher than he had intended. He didn’t like the way that Hidan’s gaze was fixed unblinkingly on Temari’s face.
“Who the hell is she?” Hidan asked him.
Shikamaru ignored him, and continued to the table, dropping down onto a cushion opposite Temari. Sakura and Naruto had already claimed the cushions on either side of her, and were enthusiastically asking her about herself and her brothers.
“We’re fine,” she said, laughing off their questions. “We’re all doing fine.” She paused, looking up at Hidan, who Shikamaru had just dragged down onto a cushion. She looked at Shikamaru questioningly. “Who’s the cutie?” she asked.
Shikamaru frowned at her question. He knew that she had every right to ask who, exactly, Hidan was, but the way she had worded it bothered him.
“This is Hidan,” he said. “He’s our guide. Hidan, this is the Suna escort Temari. The Kazekage’s sister.”
He finished his introduction with a meaningful glare, which Hidan ignored. Shikamaru wondered if he’d even registered it. Hidan was still looking at Temari as if he’d seen a ghost.
She was looking back, her gaze fixed on the Enmu hitae-ate tied around Hidan’s neck.
“You’re from Enmu?” she asked. “But that’s impossible. You’re way too young.”
Hidan recovered from his surprise at her appearance – mysterious as it was – and leered. “I’m immortal, Temari-chan,” he said, drawing out her name and making a blush rise up in her cheeks.
Shikamaru glared at him. Sakura frowned, looking between the three of them, and Naruto – as usual – looked completely oblivious to the tension rising in their group once more.
“Is that so,” Temari asked. “How did you manage that?” She leaned forward slightly, her lips curving into a smile. Naruto noticed that, and raised an eyebrow at Shikamaru.
“Trade secret,” Hidan purred.
Shikamaru hadn’t realised that Hidan could make his voice sound like that. Sakura raised a hand to cover her mouth, and Shikamaru would have bet a month’s wages that she was grinning. There was a certain curve and shine to her eyes that reminded him of her sensei.
And then Temari glanced at him, and he forced himself to calm down. He had, he knew, no right to be jealous of her talking to anyone, even if the sight of her talking to Hidan made him want to blow the man up into tiny pieces all over again.
“So,” she said. “What’s our route?”
She reached beneath the table and pulled out a map, which she unfolded over the table, shoving her cooling tea to one side.
The map was the most detailed on Wind Country Shikamaru had ever seen, which was fitting as Temari was a Wind Country native. Hidan craned his neck to try and see it the right way up, and Temari elbowed Naruto in the ribs.
“Switch places,” she told him, indicating Hidan.
“Temari,” Shikamaru said. “I’m not sure that’s…”
“Sure,” Naruto chirped, standing up almost immediately. When he sat down again next to Shikamaru, he leaned in close and whispered in Shikamaru’s ear. “Relax. Temari can take care of herself.”
He was right, Shikamaru knew, and he knew that Hidan needed access to the map.
“Huh,” Hidan was saying. “I could have sworn that oasis wasn’t there before. Damn fucking desert changes too much.”
Temari snorted. “Well you definitely aren’t from Wind, that’s for sure,” she observed. “That oasis sprung up during the last Great War. A jutsu blast brought an underground spring to the surface.”
Hidan nodded. “We can stop there,” he said. “It’s on the way, and there’s nothing fucking worse than a trek through the desert without a break.”
“Not like you can die of dehydration,” Shikamaru mumbled.
Hidan looked up at him. “Doesn’t make it a fucking walk in the park,” he replied. Then he bent his head close to Temari’s again, and they began debating about something near the border.
Shikamaru waved one the waitresses over. She was dressed in some sort of skimpy silk outfit in shades of red and deep orange, with coins hanging from the hem of the top over her flat stomach. She jingled as she walked.
“A pot of tea,” he ordered. “Four mugs.”
She smiled at him and nodded. He sighed and rested his elbows on the table, looking at the map Temari was emphatically stabbing with a finger. It was going to be a very long day.
