When she regained consciousness, she couldn’t open her eyes. Half of it was her desire to remain floating in her peaceful dreamland. The other half was the fear that when she opened her eyes, she’d see all the hatred of the villagers around her.
What had happened? She remembered feeling angry…but why? There was the fight, and the Kazekage, and then…Shika? Shika…
“Shikamaru!” She bolted upright with frenzied panting, drenched in a cold sweat that clung the sticky substance to her clothes. She mistook her worry for rage as the previous day’s events floated into her with a sudden rush. The muddled haze that enclosed her dispersed, and she ground her teeth in irritation. “Baka! I’ll kill you!”
Her sweltering fury submersed to confusion when she realized the room around her was neither the arena nor her apartment. She didn’t recognize the dreary stone walls, dimly flickering oil lamps, strangely cool temperature, and lonely aura of the unfurnished chamber. Nor did she wish to. Nothing but the lighted lamps that offered no heat and Naomi’s panicked heartbeat showed any signs of life. So where was she?
For a brief moment, she wondered if Shika had taken her to his home after she lost consciousness. The icy, dull surroundings fit him perfectly. She wouldn’t hold it against him to do that. She could hear his smug voice taunting in that lazy drawl of his, “I saved your life. Now you owe me.” Growling, she lifted her hand to mask her yawn, and heard faint clinking.
“What the—” One look at the gleaming cuff encasing her wrist and her voice failed. This definitely wasn’t Shika’s house. A sudden pressure on her throat as she snarled made her retrained hands fly to it in reflex. Another shackle. What was she, a dog? Delivering a sharp jerk to the collar, she received an intense pierce through her body. A bloody scream tore and ripped through her raw throat. Its parched condition made her question how long she’d really been asleep. The electric jolt flowed easily, leaving her numb and tingling.
When it finally ended, she felt sore and exhausted, her delicate muscles straining, trembling, aching, demanding she succumb to her own weakness, to be encased by the darkness that enticed her so.
That would make you no better than Shikamaru.
That’s right, she noticed. In the end, he gave up, too. She couldn’t stoop to his level. She wouldn’t. Breathe, she told herself, breathe!
The door rendered a loud click. Well, it would have been inaudible had it been under normal circumstances, but the thick silence had magnified it tenfold. But whether it was earsplitting or not, it still displayed a sign of life. As the metal barricade creaked open, even the tiniest bit of light it yielded blinded Naomi. She underwent a burst of hope.
“Shikamar—” This time she cut herself off. It wasn’t him.
“Ahh,” the white-haired boy mused, pushing his glasses up his nose, “Was the precious little princess expecting her prince to rescue her?” He crossed the room swiftly before tugging her chin upwards. “Give it up, girl, nobody’s coming to save you.” He leaned closer to her ear. “Nobody cares.”
Rapidly ignited, her speeding fist was swallowed in the boy’s larger one. His smirk deteriorated to a nasty sneer while Naomi’s wrath bordered on insanity.
“Do you really want to try that?” he asked, as if it really were a matter of life or death, before slamming her into the wall with such force that, for a moment, all she could see was black. The weight of her chains seemed to drag her down, and a demanding growl reverberated from her stomach. Her captor chuckled lecherously.
“Hungry, little girl?” The sound of a key twisting in the lock made her rage flare. “Well, you should have thought about that before you tried to hit me. But hey,” his voice was now on the opposite side of the metal door, “at least you’ll have a nice quiet place to think about what you did.”
“Baka,” she snapped, holding her rumbling abdomen, “I have an IQ of 236. I’ll find a way to get out of here, food or no food.”
Static from a speaker disguised overhead grated on her ears. “IQ doesn’t matter, sweetheart. You don’t have the strength.”
Wincing, she silently determined to prove him wrong, to prove them all wrong. She’d show them that she was strong, strong enough to be considered Shika’s equal. But for now, she needed a plan, and what better way to escape than pretend like she didn’t want to? After all, as the saying goes, ‘keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.’
Naomi was out to kick some ass.
The waiting had nearly driven her insane. Seconds felt like hours, and hours felt like weeks. The white-haired boy hadn’t visited her for—in Naomi’s restless mind—centuries. In fact, no one had visited her. Once again, she was overwhelmed with the inescapable feeling of abandonment, just like in Konoha. But that boy wouldn’t desert her, would he? He wasn’t that cruel to let her starve to death all alone, was he?
Her question was soon answered when the door opened again, and familiar footsteps echoed across the barren room. A metal plate slid atop the slick concrete floor, rattling to a stop at her feet. But still she was too fatigued to lift her gaze.
The shaggy white hair fell into her vision as he seated himself before her, a hesitant glare upon his features. “Lord Orochimaru ordered me to be kinder to you, so…” He pushed the tray closer with his foot. “I’m supposed to sit here and talk to you while you eat.”
Well there were a few things wrong with that. One, she barely had enough energy to breathe. Second, she loathed him. Therefore, and thirdly, they would never become friends. Not even close. Not to mention the fact that he’d nearly given her a concussion a while ago.
He seemed to notice her vulnerability and sighed in exasperation. Why was he irritated? He was the one who’d put her there. Slowly, her head was lifted into his lap and a spoon brought to her lips with a warm liquid.
“Just soup for now,” he explained in a considerably softer tone of voice, “since you can’t even swallow without exerting all your efforts.”
He tilted the spoon and her head back, allowing the hot broth to fall down her throat. She didn’t bother to mask her pleasured sigh and vaguely heard him chuckle. She felt the utensil nudge at her lips once more, and she was more than happy to oblige. Spoonful after spoonful, her strength began to return to her, warming her numb body and flooding her with gratitude. Maybe he wasn’t as cruel as he seemed.
When she finally opened her eyes and found herself staring into the glass-covered eyes of the boy, he quirked a small smirk at her and said, “Ready for real food?”
“If I say yes, will you keep feeding me?” she returned.
“Why?”
She shot him an incredulous look. “It’s the least you can do after harassing me the way you did.”
He shook his head but couldn’t mask the twinkle of brotherly affection in his eyes. “Just think of it as a reminder of what could happen if you double cross me or Lord Orochimaru.”
The usual Naomi eccentricity was restored. “Then earn my respect. Show me why I shouldn’t double cross you or your precious Lord.”
“Is that a challenge?”
She held his stare boldly. “Was I too subtle?”
After a brief pause, he stuck out his hand and smirked. “The name’s Kabuto.”
“Naomi,” she returned, grasping his hand firmly in hers and ignoring the pain from the uncomfortable shackles rubbing against her flesh. That was the start of a blossoming friendship.