A bet on Love

15 | Plan B

From all Naruto had acquired so far, one thing was for sure, Hinata hated physical touch, or rather, the knock-on effects of living with an abusive father made her react negatively to any arm that was stretched out to her, for comfort or abuse. He detested the fact but did not know the reason himself. Aside from the evidence shown to him by Hinata of the wounds the man inflicted on his daughter, it made the blonde wonder, what has she endured for so long to be able to flinch so nervously at a slight graze of the hand?

Fortunately for him, after two weeks of being hospitalised, Kushina had shown evident signs of quick recovery, meaning in the next week or two she'd be allowed to return home. He liked the idea. It calmed his angered mind of his fiancée's issue that he would think of at a later date, but one thing was for sure, he was definitely on board with the elimination of Hiashi Hyūga.

-

Hinata's head was laid on the brunette's lap as they sat in her room, flicking through channels on what to watch. As Hinata entertained herself with the remote control of the television, Momona weaved her fingers through the long deep blue locks of her mistress, massaging her scalp from time to time.

At first, she was hesitant, because what were you supposed to do when you have a mistress with such severe trust issues she can not allow someone to touch her hair? Momona wondered what the bluenette's circle of friends had to do to get that close to Hinata. But in all honesty, she was not surprised one bit, with the way Hiashi treated his flesh and blood the poor girl was bound to have trust issues, especially with guys.

The constant weeping of the bluenette at night and the all too painful cry that seemed to reverberate throughout the house almost every day was heartbreaking. She pitied Hinata and the anguish she had to endure, because one thing was for sure, if she were in her place, she would have ended her life long ago.

Then a disturbing idea she never knew she could fabricate gave way in her mind. What if Hiashi were to die? Then Hinata wouldn't suffer so much. She swallowed at the thought, gazing down at the head that was resting on her lap. She'd be happier than she is now and all the scars that decorated her beautiful skin would finally disappear over time. Momona narrowed her eyes, What if?

-

Sasuke is a prick was the first thing that came to the punkette's mind immediately the ravenette spoke. Was it obvious she didn't like him? Because who would? Aside from all the girls tailing in with love hearts in their eyes and chanting his name in their squeaky voices because he was Konoha's eye candy. Not to her at least. What did you expect, a girl part of the 'Sasuke-kun fan club' dedicated to stalking the poor guy even to the point of knowing the colour of his toothbrush? Now don't get her wrong at one point she was head over heels for the Uchiha but her 'obsession' so to say was not that...disturbing, it shouldn't be.

At one point she had liked Sasuke, no doubt about that, and she dated him for two weeks. That was how long it took her to finally regain her senses that the Sasuke-kun she thought she knew was not who he was, evidently. For one he switched emotions like a pregnant woman the thought actually dawned on her for a good, traumatic hour. And he was sealed, closed up and couldn't keep a conversation flowing.

He was an arrogant prick who thought he was better than everyone and thought he could talk to anyone in any manner he chose because he was the heir to the Uchiha Modelling Business, can you believe this guy? But worst of all, he thought he could play with Sakura's heart. Her being the head over heals girl she was, tried to push the fact that that he was a total asshole over her head because 'Sasuke-kun just hasn't opened up to me yet'.

That was what she thought until it was evident he was not interested in their relationship. And it made her wonder, was he ever? Ever since she held a grudge in her heart against him, all the positive things she thought about him and how handsome and loving he was was immediately flushed down the drain. Loving my ass, he was as dry as a chalkboard.