Chains

                                                          C          H          A         I         N         S

I have no sense of style. I’ve tried many unavailing times to cohesively make articles of clothing and accessories fit together. Things my prehistoric brain find cute but once thrown together get disapproving nods from friends and retailers. I am forever a hopeless left cognitive person. It doesn’t even matter if there was a a tutorial offered online calling to people like me as: How to dress dummies and I’d still fail miserably at it. As it was in school, my parents never did hang any of my drawings proudly on the fridge. A sure sign that I would never find my talents with etching nor being a fashionista like Ino.

So how the hell was I supposed to dress for this? It was coupled with the fact that I would be in an environment with a crippling disadvantage in which I had no gumption as to how I should speak. The arts as it was, is my kryptonite. I researched the pieces that were going to be there, grateful they were local works rather than classic pieces such as Monet, Dali, or Rembrandt. I memorized terms like contemporary, new school, graffiti, pop, and modernism. Research. This might work in my favor after all.I could only retain three artist names and hopefully I could float between circles of conversation stretching my knowledge just based on these three alone. If I stayed on the opposite ends of the room then I could avoid clashing with the circles I’ve already been in, and therefore in turn save myself the embarrassment of having a straggler from a previous circle see the shame in my rehearsed parroted lines.

I felt the burn of cash in my clutch ready to be signed away at my disposal. If this was all going towards a good cause then whose to say that I shouldn’t spend my hard earned money on a piece? The walls of my suite floor were bare and in need of a little taste of culture and color. Maybe I’d bet on selection five-o-five. It was a beautiful bouquet of wildflowers dotted in a line against a setting sky. Streaks of colors seemed randomly flicked onto the canvas in a splatter of random speckles. However to my untrained eye the strokes didn’t seem to make sense until you took in the whole of the canvas. It all just worked. Like pieces of a puzzle just thrown onto a board and the abstract construction came together gracefully under the artists delicate design.

Hinata had gotten her way with the theme of the party.  Masquerade. I suspect there was still some guilt on her fathers part about the heiresses’ abduction. She had sent a package over three days earlier, express mail, a mask which she carefully picked out for me. Her delicate quill pen stroking the letters with great care as the note leaned against packing peanuts.

Sakura-San. I know this will compliment the dress I’m sending over for you. I leave only your choice in what you shall do with your hair! See you tonight!

I rolled my eyes with a grateful smile. Earlier in the afternoon amidst my research a  knock came at my door. A plastic jacket cover hovered in front of my peephole. The wry man holding the parcel dryly told me to sign and then disappeared. A small box lay outside my doorway as well containing my shoes. It was like Christmas. For when I opened that lid, lay an even smaller square package beneath the tissue paper. Jewelry. Protected by a black velvet box framed with golden hinges. I thanked Hinata over and over again. Or rather, the outfit consultants that no doubt were eager to dress her up like the doll she appeared to be and in turn sought their advice in dressing her friend as well. She probably pre-approved all these pieces.

My dress was an A-line V-neck Asymmetrical charcoal purple Chiffon Cocktail dress that flowed like the petals of a flower if I spun. I’d never seen French attire before, it was classically stunning. Strangely elegant were my matching flats. The lace like a garden of leafleting spirals with intricate floral designs crowning around my foot. Women’s leatherette wedge heel with a closed toe and stitching lace. And appropriately she allowed me a rose gold mask with the softest pink pearl feather adorned with intricate looping filigree detail and tiny jewels so fair that one could only see them glint against the light. My floral ring was also like this, the band just as rosy gold and pink diamonds in the shape of a budding flower. I sensed a pattern.

I supposed I should keep with the theme while displaying my hair and therefore made sure that after my shower I used a lather that would give me perfect beach waves that weren’t too bold in statement and not too flat in flow. I used the front tips of my long hair to tie an intricate pattern of a rosette braid in an elegant twist. I pinned it in place with a smokey storm charcoal pin littered with jewels at the ends of the points. I barely applied makeup. I tinged my cheeks in soft pink petals and powdered my eyelids with the same faint hue that was subtle. I couldn’t help but pause before leaving the complex for the evening.

My eyes swept over to the jeweled cherry blossom necklace that He had gifted me from our trip to the tropics. I fluttered my fingers to my bare collarbone. I had subconsciously put it on in the morning and taken it off before bed always dutifully crowning the peg with careful fingers as to not break the fragile chain. It dangled winking at me and though I felt bare I knew it was still a piece that attached me back to that world. It had been three days since I stopped wearing it. Yet it was always there winking at me in the back of my mind. I held my head high tugging at one of the loose curled pieces of my hair framing my cheek and then set off pretending not to have noticed it.

The Galla was stunning, as I expected. The Hyuga family would certainly not spare any expense when it came to entertaining the masses. Fishing my invitation from my clutch I nearly avoided the stab from the stem of my mask presenting it to the doormen. Approved by both parties guarding the entrance, I became lost in the rush of music and splendor

. A choir of voices filled the large building and it seemed there were pieces of both themes decided by father and daughter blending in a simultaneous dance. The walls were white, the pillars gold matching with the chandeliers littered with refracting warm light from the jewels dangling on the ends. The curtains were champagne gold and I had a quick flash to the hotel where Danzo stayed feeling a bit nauseous at the abrupt memory.

Faces were hidden beneath masks of all intricate patterns and designs. The colors seemed dark and mysterious or rich in hues that kings and queens would wear. I was grateful that Hinata picked out my mask. In fact everything...I gathered that bargain shopping at Macys or Party City would have made me look like a pile of rubbish amongst rubies. I sighed in relief and I moved through the throng taking in the artwork.

The entirety of the hall was breathtaking and warm. A soft glow of white and gold. It seemed Hinata and her father came to a stupendous compromise that worked in each of their favor.

Women laughed and gentlemen courted or gladly introduced the diamonds on their arms that glowed with pride in their million dollar dresses. This was Hinata’s environment. As for me, I felt like a child amongst actual women. Sure, I was one, but these creatures were just so natural and elegant that it made me regress into a child playing pretend. I hid my shame away holding my mask to my face distracting myself by taking in the artwork adorned against the walls.

  A finger tapped me on my shoulder bringing me out of my stupor. Hinata was in a sumptuous lilac, like some of the fray however the swatch would never match the “common folk”. Tailors had to customize their dyes and spin their silks especially for her. She should never be able to match an eggplant purple. This had heiress written all over it. She looked so lovely in her dress and it framed he shape sinuously. Her hair was up in a chignon bun with a silver pin that held three fine strands of wire in which each had violet flowers and at their center were flaxen diamonds.

We exchanged greetings custom to the French way where instead of contact, we air kissed both cheeks.

“Sakura-San you look so beautiful!” I flushed. I paled in comparison to my friends natural grace. Normally I wore my signature white cloak when working, I suppose this was a rare spectacle amongst friends.

“Look at our little Sakura so grown up!” That familiar shrill voice echoed behind me causing my skin to prickle. I turned to see Ino standing there all sex appeal and enigma. A cluster of men already eyed her up. She swayed her hips as she made her way to me repeating Hinata’s exchange and we formed a small flock of our own.

“I’m surprised you didn’t choose a color like the others.” I remarked to Ino taking a sip from the flute clutched in my free hand. She smiled wryly, a twinkle in her eyes as sharp as the jut from her elbow to my ribs.

“Watch it billboard, I couldn’t decide on which theme I liked and I chose to be a movie star masquerade female fatal. Silver does me justice, doesn’t it?” She overlooked herself. Now normally I would think a dipping V line to showcase ones chest was floozy as well as being lit up like a disco ball, but Ino could make a paper bag look good so long as she was the one showcasing it. She swept her curled tail away from her bare shoulder and smiled revealing silver hoops with diamonds biting light into my eye as she did so.

Hinata looked at our conversation with feigned innocence and piped in on her own accord. “Yes, that is a very glamorous dress Ino-San!”

“Let’s not forget you Hinata! Our beautiful blooming flower. Well, actually, you’re more like a pearl that is always protected in its case.” Rouge rose throughout her cheeks and her luminescent eyes swept to the floor. Her gaze disappearing into the drowned puddle of her drapery.

“If you must know, Hinata picked this out for me.” I outstretched my arms in display and twirled twice to show the flow of it all saving her from the spotlight. Ino gave small measured claps and haughtily added, “Well I didn’t think you would have chosen a French brand so I assumed someone else did in fact pick out your attire.”

I flicked the jab away by taking another swig of my champagne feeling the blessed airy swimming feeling in my head. I pointed to the pieces on the wall with my glass loosing my pinky in the direction of the next portrait.

“Tell me about these.” I gestured distractedly towards my five-o-five.

—-. . .—-

By the time I got to my second glass of Chardonnay, all the lights around me blurred together dazzling in a glittering array of stars. Or maybe they were just the crystals twinkling against the chandeliers but either way the room was spinning. I decided to let the bubbles pop from my system as I designated an unofficial spot for my rump in the resting room. A medium sized alcove nestled next to the ballroom showcasing the gallery specifically catered to the weary from drink or stamina.

Here the drapery was heavier as to give each table a sense of a private oasis. Some idle chatter was no more than a whisper in here and I was grateful for it while I came back to myself. I chose a sofa that swallowed my shape as soon as I let my full weight rest against it.

I drew the sheer curtains slightly closed to give myself privacy against the shame of my drunken stupor. All-in-all I thought the night went pretty good. I hadn’t counted on Ino clinging to my side the entire night while Hinata floated about the room obligated to greet the guests on both her father and her behalf. Mainly men were the ones seeking to gain favor with the blonde bombshell toting me around like a bedraggled purse.

A waitress strolled over setting down a freshly chilled glass of cool crisp water in my wake which I gladly gulped down. Sensing no urgency for this couch potato to move she didn’t ask if there was a follow up drink she could get me and off she went to the more eager table of lovers leaning in towards one another.

I had that once. I shook my head. Shut up Sakura. You threw that away and you did it of your own volition. You have no right to gripe. But it made me yearn for that same fondness from before. It meant so much more to me now than it did when I didn’t have it. You don’t appreciate what you have until its gone.

I heard before I saw that voice that was scratchy and soft. Like a ray of sunshine through a  pane from a window. Naruto. I glanced up from my table as he parted the curtain ever so slightly. He was Hinata’s fiancé after a long battle of being called “not worthy” by her family and in the end of endless trials had finally won the approval even if his pockets couldn’t guarantee her comfort.

“Naruto, how have you been?” I sat up a little straighter.

“Oh, you know. Busy with work.” He retorted shyly looking down at his newly purchased Oxfords.

“I can imagine. Any good cases worth mentioning?” For a second I thought I saw something unresolved pass over his face but the hard exterior melted away fleetingly from his eyes and the same warm pool of light was back again. Had I imagined it? I knew Naruto could be a dog with a bone determined to solve anything thrown his way. It was his stubborn conviction that got him towards the top ranks in his field in the first place. Tenacious wasn’t even the word to describe his motives.

“Not tonight. Just pleasure. Say, I’m surprised you’re not here with anyone.” Why does everyone have to keep picking at that scab? Honestly...

I smiled none-the-less, “I decided to come stag.” Then that flash passed over his face again. Hinata thread her arm through his while his hands were shoved into the pockets of his pants and she whispered beckoning him for a dance in the next room. With an apologetic gleam in his eye he gave me a half hearted shrug adhering to his beloveds request and led became swallowed up in the other room.

In the room next to the alcove stood another ballroom but larger and all the tables were parted in a giant circle to the outcropping of the room leaving the dance floor bare for couples to dance to the live music camped at the makeshift stage in the far corner of the room. Opposite these doors was a balcony littered with rows of polished bay windows. The city lights glowed into the candlelit room. Awaiting the flock to gather there sharply by eight in order for dinner and then the auction.

Until that time, I would stay in my safe haven avoiding sophisticated conversation and becoming a spectacle that could be the butt of everyone’s jokes.

There was a piano next to the bar where a young man softly touched his fingers to the ivory keys as to not upstage the party going on next door. The atmosphere in here was more my comfort zone. No doubt I would find my seat empty and waiting for me when the time came to migrate to the room next door but for now I was doing my best to sober up and in need of something to fill my stomach while I waited for a sign of the silver platters to pass signaling dinner service was ready.

The waitress circled back to my table asking for my order and by the time she came back I gladly gobbled up the cucumber sandwich appetizer keeping in mind the time. I downed my soda savoring the cherry floating atop the glacier of cubes and as I settled ready to check my phone to delete the umpteenth message from Ino stating to; get my ass over there , a hand silkily thread through the sheer curtain at my table.

I snapped my head up ready to have a comeback for the intruder depending on if he was friend or foe.

“Oh, pardon me lady, I thought this booth was empty.” The voice was aged like timber. Solid and stoic, yet something warm lay beneath the surface. But there was an underlying steel to it that told my body to keep itself on its toes. Then his face came into view. There was a long ragged scar over his left eye, he had laughter wrinkles against the crinkling corners of his eyes and a distinct head of salted hair. No pepper. But he didn’t seem that old to me? No more than maybe late thirties barely touching forty. His eyes were simmering coals that had a small sense of kindness behind them.

But the world I have learned thus far, had more than one face and therefore I couldn’t take his at value alone. He was long and lanky in frame and build. A wiery scrap of muscle that was light footed but probably coiled in muscle and ready to spring when provoked. You’re staring! Say something!

“O-oh! No its alright! I was just leaving. Go ahead and take this booth for you and your friends!” I was already sliding out but was stopped as he put both his hands innocently in the air as a drawn white flag of surrender.

“You misunderstand, no friends. I’m here stag tonight and just wanted a quiet place to sit and nurse this drink one of the women randomly handed me when I was out there.” He tilt the flute as far as it would go without dropping a precious gold tear from the lip of the glass inspecting it against the harsh lowlight of the room.

“I hope it was given to you by one of the people that work here.”  I nervously expressed. As if I should be handing out advice in this department. My stomach churned again thinking on spoiled memories that I’d just assume should disappear.

“Of course. Penguin uniform and all.” At this he got me to crack a small smile before I resumed my escape from the scoop of the booth.

“Please don’t leave on my account. I interrupted your night, I’ll leave.” He apologetically waved me off, again.

“You didn’t! I was just...” I couldn’t find the right words to use. They jumbled in my mouth like marbles. Why was it so hard to talk to the opposite sex? I cleared my throat and searched for an appropriate response considering I just extended the conversation just a little further than necessary.

“Not an artsy fartsy person eh?” His quip rescued me from my drowning humiliation of stuttered silence. I scoffed which prompted nervous laughter from my lips.

“Am I that transparent?” I tugged on a lock of my hair. A nervous tick I suppose. Please just let this non-sticky floor swallow me up right here and now.

“Well when one hides away in a small parlor like this in the furthest booth set against the wall like this, perhaps just a little.” He squished his forefinger and thumb to one another a hairbreadth away from touching both tips together. The ice broken, he slipped into the chair without my noticing for I was mimicking his action by doing the same on my side of the table.

We spoke idly for awhile and I found out his name was Kakashi which I tried not to laugh after his introduction because he sort of did look like a spindly scarecrow. But when he was quiet and listening to my stories he tensed up perched against his seat like a hard rock watching in perfectly practiced silence. A tangle of reserved hidden muscle awaiting orders to strike. Like a hawk scanning every move. His appearance giving him the edge of being someone who regularly works out with the discipline and patience to do so.

But when he relaxed and leaned back as casually as he was now or motioning with his hands at the story he was weaving with them in order to exaggerate his story, he became animated and almost silly. Perhaps it was the reference of alcohol that was set in front of me to prompt my next thought, but he was like aged Scotch. Not to be touched until ready for the exact occasion however, not to be spilled, over poured, or poured larger than two quarters width against a marbled glass.

Before I knew it a young man swept through the entrance of the alcove giving us stragglers lounging in the cocktail room ample warning that dinner would be served in twenty minutes. Most began scurrying about to pay their tabs and bills while others tried to sober up the best they could stumbling out of the room. People tended to be more loose with their money when inebriated. This should be an interesting auction.

“Well I suppose that’s our cue. Since you seem to be a newfound friend, shall we take our leave together?” I was taken aback by the proposition. Of all the painted faces here and bustier frames to choose from once again I asked myself why me? Certainly I didn’t have the allure Ino had, for she had all the males our age flocking to her whereas in contrast I was here with an older gentleman. But he seemed less tiresome and more to the point. I admit, its tedious playing games of the heart with my generation. These boys seem attracted to shiny objects that once conqured are onto the next leaving broken hearts in their wake. Nothing is sacred anymore I suppose. 

Before I could give my answer he gently took my hand guiding it through the velvet sleeve of his suit. It felt so soft like my fingers were gliding over the surface of water. It was cool against my humming heated skin and I puffed up my chest with pride. This could be my new start. To forget Him. To wash away my sins and atone for the stupid decisions from...I shook my head. I was here with Kakashi right now and therefore my attention should be solely on him.

He gave me a gentle smile leading the way through the gallery inquiring if there was a piece I would be bidding on. I expressed my fixation for lot five-o-five and when we neared the area of the wall it hung from, he paused to look over the vast horizontal piece that was ten feet wide in length. The colors were even more vibrant up close like this. The pixilated picture on the website didn’t do it justice. I couldn’t wait to hang it behind my settee where I would sit at my table with my English Breakfast Blended coffee in hand gazing at the new details I would pick out each morning.

“This certainly is a pretty piece.” His eyes glossed over the corners and I watched him expectantly. I hoped he would tell me not to go over my maximum bet but he was absorbed in the work too busy to notice me observing him out of the corner of my eye.

“Its a nice wooded scene with wildflowers.”

“Hmm. The contrast the artist made by making the background trees birch gives the foreground a nice pop of color.” I swallowed hoping he wouldn’t ask me about the other artists. I nodded in agreement.

“Then again,” his voice was lowering to brass. Turning over like a stone that baked under the sun to the cold ground. I disciplined my body not to tense, no to react, and not to do anything that made it look like I wanted to flee. But I desperately did. I knew we were in the bowels of the building, if I did run I wouldn’t even make it to the heart of the gallery. Everyone had filtered into the grand dining hall next door and all that separated us from here to there were the grand ivory doors that were closed. The footmen on the side with the patrons who were clattering their forks against their plates dining on expensive cuisine.

“Is this what you saw in the mountains? A scene similar to this? Or perhaps you read it while on your breaks in medical school.” My heart was in my throat lodged there like an ice pick scraping against the tender flesh. An assassin? I clammed up. He was a perfect stranger in my eyes, but to him he was searing a hot poker against the vulnerable spots in my life. All the while he didn’t even gaze back at me. He kept his eyes fixated on the art.

“What do you want?” I hissed through my teeth. I was angry at myself for being so foolhardy getting swept up in the folly that I was being paid attention to. How many times had They warned me about something like this? I haven’t changed in the slightest and now because of my idiocy I’m going to be killed because of my shitty judgement.

I went to pull my hand out from under his arm but his muscles flexed tightening his hold on me while his voice was a gentle whisper stern in its warning.

“Sakura. You’re going to go upstairs with me to the first floor. Do you understand?” I could feel beads of sweat on my brow. Fuck...Hinata was going to kill me for soiling such a beautiful attire. I had abandoned the mask back at my table feeling exposed without it. Before I could protest he was leading me to a foyer where a lofty winding set of stairs swept up to a dusky landing.

I couldn’t maneuver getting into my clutch without using my other hand to fish into it in order to get ahold of my pepper spray. He produced a silver key from his breast pocket turning it into the lock. We’re twelve doors away from the stairs, if only I could just slip away and run like hell.

I couldn’t stop the snapshots of memories coming back to me in the form of a panic attack as I flashed back to entering a room just like this one in the hotel. I almost expected the repulsive mob boss to be standing there with a chagrin expression on his face that curved into a devilish smile as he boasted how he beat me. Alas I am not dead nor defeated! Not as much as you’re about to be!

Everything in here was polished in red and gold from furniture to carpentry. The twin set of curtains to the cocktail room adorned the windows and walls. There was low warm light showcasing the grand desk and chair but the seat was vacant. This would be the hour of my death. I could feel it in the marrow of my bones.

I turned on my assailant ready to go down with a fight but once I caught sight of the deadly creature before me all my rational thoughts escaped me. I was pinned under the claws of a predator. Helpless to fight back. Hadn’t I sworn at one point that I vowed to take self defense lessons once I returned?

Fuck...