Fandoms: Naruto
Characters: Hinata Hyuuga
Prompt: Hinata gets thrown back into the past after she dies.
Prompt Made By: I. H. Scribe
Disclaimer: I don't own the following series(es) or any character(s) that follow, and unless I. H. Scribe is listed after Prompt Made By chances are I don't own the idea for this story either.
Hinata didn't mind dying, and certainly not while protecting Naruto. However she wasn't really sure what was supposed to happen after one died. She, for instance, appeared to be reliving her memories, starting with the failed Kumo kidnapping.
This was what started her father's harsh treatment of her and her failures. She hated this piece of her past, as much as she could hate anything. It was the start of her shyness, and according to her family, her inability to do anything right. And then Hinata got angry – very, very angry. She wasn't a weak little girl anymore - she was a proud ninja of the Leaf Village – she could take the bastard.
And take the bastard she did, straight into unimaginable levels of pain. Hiashi had just struck out, only to miss as the kidnapper keeled over, clutching his groin, and making a squeaky wheezing noise. He stared at his daughter in awe. She had somehow broken free from the sack the kidnapper had her in, and judging by the stance she was in, had used a Jyuuken jab to the man's groin.
And now she was attacking the poor man with a ferocity he had never seen in her, and using words that she shouldn't know. Hiashi planned to find who taught her those words and kill them.
"How dare you attack me you fucking bastard?! I'll Jyuuken your ass into the next century!" Hinata let out a frustrated yell when Hiashi picked her up, and then a terrified "Eep!" when she realized who it was. "T-Tou-san," Hinata squeaked.
"I'm going to have to wash your mouth out with soap, Hinata. A young lady never uses such language."
"Y-yes, Tou-san," Hinata mumbled.
"And, Hinata? Good job. I hope you continue to show progress in the Jyuuken style."
"Y-yes, Tou-san," Hinata said again, but this time with a small smile on her face.
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I. H. Scribe
