Out of the infinity of universes that existed, there were quite a few that they shared.
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One:
They were both shinobi from the Leaf. But her face radiated with light from the east; his back remained cold as he stared westwards, left with nothing but the dying sun for his eyes to feast on.
Two:
In this world, his family lives. His laughter and smiles come easily, mirth brimming behind dark but bright eyes, and he only really lets the carefree grin slip when he walks past a girl standing alone, her pale face obscured by the shadows of an empty house.
He doesn't know what to say, so he doesn't say anything at all even when something deep in his heart stirs.
Three:
There is another world mere degrees away where he decides to finally talk to that pretty girl he noticed working in the gardens near his home. He admires the long sheets of dark hair flowing past her shoulders, secretly relishing the gentle shine in her eyes as she fondly takes care of herbs and blossoms alike.
And then, the war hits their village and nothing is left. He looks over at the burnt patch of ground where she would've perched, tending the tomatoes she'd just planted a few weeks earlier.
Not even a sprout or green thing creeps from the bloodied soil.
Four:
There's a world where he lies in a nameless mass grave somewhere at his clan cemetery. He only really gets two visitors; a secretive man who pokes his tombstone gently every year on his birthday before disappearing into a murder of crows and a little girl with pearly eyes, her delicate hands always offering a carefully arranged bouquet of white jasmine blossoms.
Five:
There's one where he's actually curious about this new teammate of his. She's short, easily startled, and prone to fainting spells. He would've thought she was like all the other girls until he sees her fight her cousin during the Chuunin exams.
There's something familiar about that spark in her eyes, the way she holds herself against someone she so obviously loves yet fears simultaneously. His own heart recognizes that desperation, that never ending thirst to prove oneself, and he can only clench his fist when he sees that she's coughing blood and choking on tears she refuses to shed.
He's already on his feet when he sees that her ruthless cousin-brother isn't stopping even when she's on the ground in pieces, but the proctor and his own sensei were already there.
Six:
Neither of them are warriors of any sort, but they're used to war.
It's an elaborate ploy that brings them together first; she holds a title that doesn't belong to her and he pretends that he is the true master of his. They flirt and share secret glances, dance and drink tea together in the courtyards, continue the subtle games their upbringings have prompted them to play.
It's idyllic – their time together – and it ends all too soon, as many beautiful things do.
He only learns her real name when an assassin plunges a silver knife with a bird carved onto the blade into her heart.
When he finally becomes Lord after his elder brother abdicates, he turns to his new bride with nothing but nostalgia and bitterness. She bears the same face as Hinata and wears the crown that Hinata had borrowed from her.
He thinks that the throne next to his would've suited Hinata more.
Seven:
She's still hopelessly in love with an idiot, just not the one everyone thought she'd end up with.
He never thought himself idiotic but when he watches her smile so sweetly while quietly supporting the dog-idiot so steadfastly, he wishes that he were.
Eight:
He meets her at a small temple, beneath the red torii gates at the front of the shrine.
He's bleeding heavily from a fight and she's standing there like a shy spirit, wide eyes peeking from behind heavy sleeves. He is enchanted despite himself and she takes advantage of his pause.
Without his asking, she immediately carries him into her abode. He is surprised that she is so strong; her frame is small and soft. Her fingers are equally so, but she is capable and swiftly bandages him.
In the moonlight, she bows politely even as he glares at her for daring to touch him.
By morning, he is gone. He has a journey to make, a man to find, a battle to win. He has no time to linger by a girl, even when her delicate yet determined touch still lingers on his scarred skin.
Nine:
Bound by ropes and seals alike, she sits in the room with an uncharacteristically stoic expression on her slightly scratched face.
He watches her carelessly, knowing that there is no way she could possibly escape while he is her captor. After all, she is his bait for a troublesome fox that has endlessly plagued him.
She surprises him when he walks over to feed her. One blunt tap on his chest and he can't breathe, his heart beating irregularly. He can't move when she struggles to cut her ropes with his sword.
With a single wary glance back to his prone form on the ground, she steps away from him without attempting to kill him. He appreciates that.
Long after she's disappeared and he's regained control of his body, his pulse is uneven. Miles away, hers is just as unbalanced, her heart thrumming the same melody as his.
Ten:
He's on a petty errand mission for Orochimaru when he sees her.
Her eyes aimlessly stare, no focal point apparent, and he thinks that she's blind at first.
But then she looks at him and he knows that she's seen everything.
He knows that she sees the pearls he carries in a glass tube under his robes, precious gems that she possesses herself.
He needs three pairs, Orochimaru had said.
There's already a lot of red staining his fingers and he realizes that he doesn't want her red on them.
For the first time in a long time, he runs – with only four pearls – and fails his mission.
Instead of red on his hands that night, his entire back glistens a poisonous serpentine crimson.
Eleven:
They were on a mission together, their sixteenth consecutive one.
It was routine reconnaissance, with her all-seeing eyes peering through solid walls and armed men to read secrets, and his own set of eyes protecting them both.
It was supposed to be simple, until it wasn't.
It was either the mission or her; he chose the mission, as that was how he was trained to be, but when he saw her understanding flicker across her bloodied face, he almost ignored his honed obedience to the village to save her.
He should have followed his heart that one time. He never saw in color again after he spied the silver tears and scarlet streams tracking down her face.
Twelve:
He thought she was familiar, which was why he accepted her.
Between sips of heady rice wine and the enchanting bells of her laughter, he found himself thoroughly enraptured by everything she was. She was only supposed to be a distraction to lure his mind and body away from what occupied his life in the hours of the sun, a mere passing moment, until he became consumed by the very scent of her sweet skin and the softness of her long, flowing hair.
Under the soft glow of candles and silvery moonlight, he lost himself within her depths until he could not remember his own name.
In the morning, he found himself alone and cold, stripped of everything he owned. The room he had boarded in was barren and his family sword had disappeared by his side.
But for the first time in a long time, he didn't feel the flames for vengeance scorching through his heart.
Thirteen:
He's content.
This time, they are civilians and they live in a village with emerald green leaves dancing on the subtle breezes of perpetual summer. They watch as ninja – those strange, abnormal people with the ability to walk up those tall, impossibly wide tree trunks or throw fireballs from open mouths – dash from roof to roof, weaving signs with their hands at impossible speeds and disappearing in a gust of wind.
Wars and other events of bloodshed are just faraway ideas, the kinds that brew like the jasmine tea she favors and requests for him to prepare; the water boils in a little red kettle he bought on a whim for her as they speak their sweet nothings in the crisp mornings and gentle evenings, but the sound of the fierce whistling escapes their ears as they lose themselves in the songs in the voices of their bright-eyed children.
They will never know the taste of iron on dry tongues, the aching sensation of bones and muscle straining in exertion during battle, the pain of eyes radiating with a dark glimmer. They will never know the salt of desperate tears and the excruciating fever of grief borne of blood. They will never know the piercing adrenaline of a triumphant victory, the ecstasy of drowning in one's own power, becoming gods bathed in glory on a mortal plane.
They die without reaching their full lifespan during the one war that would strike their secure little bubble, but their children crowd around their graves with offerings of steaming cups of jasmine tea.
And that was okay.
Fourteen:
She's looking at the inky darkness beneath her fingernails detachedly and realizes belatedly that it's his blood.
He's so stupid, she thinks. Stupid and stubborn, despite what everyone else says about him.
She wants to tell him that there are other ways to say "I love you" besides stepping in front of a shower of blades meant for her.
Fifteen:
In this world, everything seems to be what they thought they wanted.
Their families are well and alive, their eyes sharp and bright with life. Friends are plentiful and so is their laughter, as loud as their still rather reserved voices allow. It is a never-ending spring and their hearts are the most welcoming of love than they'll ever be. In fact, there is more love between them initially than there had been in any universe.
Everything seems perfect.
When they see something beautiful on their nightly walks in the courtyards of their estate, she always eagerly grasps at his sleeve and points at the flower or koi fish that caught her attention with a light, silvery giggle that always makes him turn to watch her.
He always smiles so gently at the most beautiful thing he's ever seen with his dark eyes – his sister.
And she always lets her beloved brother do so, a sad twinkle in her silver ones.
Yes, everything seems perfect.
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Author's Note: I've always adored the concept of alternate universes so I used that idea here. I hope it's palatable to all readers. I don't know if all the universes have been explained well enough with my writing – all writers have shortcomings and mine is that I expect everyone to see what I see when I write – so if there are any questions, you can either PM or just add a review that I'll somehow answer.
Also, I'm willing to write more, mostly if I feel like it but I'm willing to add more universes if people request it.
Thanks for reading.