Takes place someplace in Shippuden universe (I haven't kept up with the war). I'm tired of weak portrayals of Hinata - she always gets the short end of the stick. That and sexually experienced Gaara - what with the past insanity and now as Kazekage, having the time to get around is so unrealistic. I'm writing the story I'd like to read.
Hinata speaking without honorifics in her mind is a quirk of small rebellion on her part, in case anyone had questions about it.
Chapter One
"This way, Hyuuga-san," the Suna chunin instructed.
His eyes were covered with a thick cloth, leaving his mouth and body to her interpretation. Without the Byakugan, she didn't glean much - there was dirt packed under his fingernails, from too many long nights lost without hygienic indulgence; the callouses on his hands were from writing, not field work; there was an almost imperceptible tremor in his voice from lack of sleep. The reports were correct: Suna was struggling under a lack of manpower.
Hinata stood from where they had her waiting in the front lobby of Suna's capital building. "Yes," she answered.
You are jounin, the strong part of her whispered to the small. Look like it!
Hinata pulled back her shoulders. Each step was on a perfect count, her heart purposely slowed to what could be considered Polite Nervousness. Gone were the days when she trailed and twitched and stuttered. She was Hyuuga Hinata: jounin diplomat from the Leaf.
"Diplomat" was a pretty lie. She was in Sunagakure as insurance. Formally, they called her "diplomat," but that was only the title they gave her on her mission scroll before Tsunade stamped her approval - but not without a salient glance directed upward to her newest jounin.
"Have fun," Tsunade said.
She meant, Lay low. Smile. Look pretty. Find out what's going on.
The chunin knocked on massive double doors. "Come in," a female barked.
Hinata gave a quick scan of the Kazekage's office and swallowed the twitter her heart sang out to her dangerous strangers. The three looked up at the sound.
Jishin.
Sabaku no Kankuro, Sabaku no Temari, Sabaku no Gaara - the Sand Siblings were personally welcoming her to Suna.
The A-class rank felt justified.
"How is Naruto?"
Hinata blinked. "Eh?"
The Kazekage stared into her with those bruised eyes. She had never felt the power of the Byakugan from someone who was not of her clan, but she felt it now. Hinata became hyper aware of her disheveled appearance in front of the desert king: her fringe smeared on her forehead with sweat; rank, unwashed clothing; tracking sand drizzling from between her toes all over his impeccable carpet. Shameful.
"Always with the annoying brat," Kankuro teased. He was lounging on a couch on one of the far walls of the room. He was strewn carelessly on it, but laying on his side so as to accommodate the scrolls of his monsters. Temari was standing a few casual feet away from the Kazekage's desk with her arms crossed over her chest in a show of relaxation - yet her weight was on the balls of her feet, always a half-second away from violence should it be warranted. From the relative hostility Temari was exuding, she wished warrant. Hinata noted this, as well as the fact that the Kazekage looked contained and still as he did sometimes during the chunin exams, right before he crushed fellow genin into blood rain.
Gaara ignored Kankuro's jibe. "Is he well?"
Hinata tried to calm the hummingbird in her chest. He was Kazekage now - rumored to be cautiously loved by his people - and he was Naruto's friend. The last one should matter the most to her, and it did, and yet she could only look on his hair and think of blood.
Jishin. Don't stutter. "Yes. He...is on mission right now. He is very busy, but when he comes home he's always at Ichiraku. He's eating well." Blathering about Naruto-kun's eating habits to the Kazekage? Neji would blush for shame. But the mention of familiarity was calming in its own little way.
The Kazekage lowered his gaze, tapped his pen against his desk. "I see. Your papers."
Jishin.
Her official mission, the one she was relinquishing to the Kazekage, was B-rank and had no need for a blood seal. She walked to his desk and handed it to him, her fingers grasping the very end of the cylinder so there was no chance of their accidentally touching. He pulled it from her. "You're dismissed."
"Yes," Hinata said warily...and not a little ungratefully. She turned her back to the siblings - an action that made the shinobi in her stress - and the Kazekage called out, "Not you." Hinata watched the unnamed chunin duck out before she turned around again. Apparently jounin could still blush. Kankuro looked amused, Temari cross, the Kazekage unreadable. He read the scroll in silence, one that his siblings waited for him to break.
"The promised diplomat from the Leaf, to teach at the Academy and volunteer in the hospital," he summed. Temari snorted. The Kazekage ignored her. "Are you med-nin?"
"No," she admitted. "I can do basic healing techniques and field patch-ups."
"How long have you been jounin?"
Another derived weakness. "Three weeks."
The older siblings had been jounin for years, and him - Kazekage. How small and useless she must look to them: a hostage princess to fake smiles.
The Kazekage made eye contact with her for the second time, and now that Naruto was out of the way, it was business. "Why are you really here?"
"I was instructed by Tsunade-sama that it is for your ears only."
"I tell Temari and Kankuro everything."
She felt her fear snag onto her speech and paused before she made a fool of herself. Shinobi - jounin shinobi - didn't stutter. "Even so."
But what would she do if he refused? If they interpreted her as hostile, she was alone. The small part of her despaired.
"Temari, Kankuro."
Hinata stared at the Kazekage as his siblings breezed past her, ruffling her blue-black hair from her shoulders. "How annoying," Kankuro bit. "I'm going to the training grounds, little brother." Temari contributed, "My office," and they exited.
The Kazekage folded his hands underneath his chin and prompted, "Your real mission."
Hinata longed to stand at the far end of the room, where she had begun.
"Enemy nin have been sabotaging Konoha borders and missions. Our shinobi report that all enemy nin following this pattern of sabotage wear hitai-ate of the Sand." His eyes narrowed, and the ectoplasm green was nearly lost in black insomnia. Angry and suspicious, as Tsunade had been when Leaf shinobi had dragged back the only body of the enemy nin they could kill. Hinata had to carry the man's hitai-ate herself - his skull had been crushed under Kiba and Akamaru's Double-Headed Wolf, and frankly she and Shino found Kiba's whistling as he carried the dead man on his back sadistic. "You have reported via correspondence with Tsunade-sama that Konoha shinobi have done the same, and I suggest foul play that someone is out to sour our alliance. Tsunade-sama sent me as a show of good faith and to help with the investigation as the Kazekage-sama sees fit."
"Is that all?"
"You are understaffed," she reported. Don't fidget. They're just eyes! He's the same age as me!
"Suna takes care of itself."
How best to phrase Tsunade's will? "When one is thirsty, it is too late to think about digging a well," she said.
"You offer proverbs?"
"Friendship," Hinata confirmed. Did I misstep? The Aburame and Hyuuga were fond of their proverbs. "Our alliance is very profitable for trade in Konoha. Judging from the Leaf merchants in your market, I assume it is the same for Suna. Tsunade-sama instructed me to defend it at all costs."
The Kazekage was still hunched, hands in front of his face, eyes gleaming. He hadn't so much as twitched their entire conversation, and his tone was cordial but with every deficiency of emotion. His entire presence was an absence, lacking any insanity she had feared as a child. What was left was a slate Hinata couldn't read with her weak, mundane eyes. It was disconcerting. "Friendship is one thing, favors another. I do not wish to be in debt to the Hokage."
"If you are wary of favors, Tsunade-sama suggested sending one of your shinobi to Konoha. The hospital is strained under this threat."
"Very well. I'll dispatch a chunin at dusk."
The Kazekage had stopped speaking. Was she supposed to leave? Hinata had read a few scrolls on Suna culture, but there hadn't been much in the way of interacting with the Kazekage.
He's still staring at me!
"Your eyes."
Hinata averted her gaze. Coward. "Yes?"
"Hyuuga."
It wasn't a question; he had read her name already. "Yes."
"The Hokage sent me a kekkei genkai as insurance of her loyalties. Are you a friend of Naruto?"
"I-I suppose?"
"I see." Apparently that was the most important thing the Kazekage needed confirmation on. "Matsuri," he called. The doors opened, and a nondescript Sand chunin with brown hair and large black eyes bowed a greeting. "Escort the Hyuuga to her apartment."
"Kazekage-sama," the chunin said behind her.
To Hinata, the Kazekage said, "Temari will brief you this evening. I trust you will not wander until then."
Hinata bowed, and his demon eyes could accost her no longer. She turned and fled like a genin.
Her lodgings were sparse but comfortable enough. A bedroom, kitchen, and private bath were pure luxury compared to the destitution she had lived in for five days. The journey to Suna had taken longer than it should have - Hinata traveled slow to thwart suspicion and had to take out her travel papers often. The border patrols were on high alert for Leaf shinobi, and Sand patrols were overworked and sleep-deprived and shuriken-happy. The journey required her utmost patience, and sometimes the passing exploding tag or smoke bomb.
Matsuri returned the bag Hinata had to abandon at Customs, explained the water rations, chattered happily about Hinata's eyes and hair and was met with soft deflections, and tardily left her with nothing to show for it. Hinata quickly used the Byakugan to clear suspicion of cameras, listening devices, traps, and then the second thing she did was use her entire day's water ration on a bath. The Sand shinobi had nothing in the way of scents - smelling like a rose lent to being plucked - but the water was chilled to a delicacy. Hinata simpered for an hour in it, scrubbing and then submerging to hide from the heat that permeated everything in Suna.
But childhood ends. The water warmed to her body heat and the desert, and she abandoned it.
They had offered no uniform in the way of desert shinobi life, which was worth considering. In a thin kimono discovered folded in the bathroom, Hinata washed her unmentionably disgusting clothing she had been paraded to the Kazekage in with her bath water - clean enough to last through Temari's counsel until tomorrow's rations. Hinata massaged the sweat stains out of her hitai-ate band. In one way they were honoring her, allowing her to bear her clan and village for all to admire, and in another they were clearly marking her as an outsider.
Just as well. She would smile prettily, watch, and listen. When Temari called on her, hip cocked and glare at its highest voltage, Hinata was ready.
The knock was loud and impatient. Temari was coarse and ignored an introduction and wore Overwork like the best of them. "Gaara doesn't want you in the Academy. An extra jounin is nothing to scorn. Tomorrow you'll acquaint yourself with the hospital and help where you can. We need our medical ninja on the field."
"Yes."
"He wants to use you on missions," Temari said, the anger and hand on her hip ruining the nonchalance she was proposing. "I told him not to trust you."
Hinata thought for a moment. There was no way to win, except maybe an armistice. "I will go wherever I am directed."
Temari grunted. "You will report at 7 o'clock in the main lobby of the hospital. A chunin will attend you. I trust we won't have any more Leaf puppets dancing through our borders, miming promises?"
"If you mean Shikamaru-san," Hinata said innocently, and Temari had the decency to blush, "he's leading the investigation back in Konoha and must stay there to direct stratagems."
"Well," Temari grunted, clearing her throat, "whatever." She stomped quite stiff-legged down the hall to secret holdings. Hinata closed the door, opened a portal window to let in the kind of chill that hovered over graveyards, and lay in the bed in the dark for a healthy hour, missing.