Practice makes perfect, or as close as you are destined to come to in anyways. I live on long, sleepless hours, dragging on through grueling training. Day after day, I take no breaks from my routine. Every rigourous second counts. Maybe if I'm strong enough, skilled and powerful enough, I'll be seen as more than a branch member, more than a second-rate Hyuuga. It's foolish, I know, to wish such impossible things, outside the realm I'm destined to reside in. I will never be accepted never beā¦important to anyone. So what's the point of trying? Sometimes I'm not quite sure.
I've seen him watching, that boy from sand. The one with the puppets, Kankuro. We've talked, conversed on various subjects, relatively unimportant things. I find myself working harder still after each visit from him, so that he can see how far I've come, how hard I'm working to grow better.
Why do I wish to impress him, this guy I barely know? Maybe it's to make his time worthwhile, but in truth I really don't know, or maybe do not wish to know. The days of training aren't so bad when he's there watching me. As if it's all worthwhile, as if I'm worthwhile, the tiring hours and stinging sweat seeming not nearly as horrible and painful. I wonder why he watches, wastes his time on observeing such a lowly Hyuuga train, but I don't dwell on it, for I know the possibility that will inevitably arise if I do.
Months of silent training pass, both painful but comfortable for me. After each time he watches, I train harder and longer, until finally one fateful day I collapse, and inevitable result from my training. It isn't for long, simply due to exhaustion and overheating, and I awake soon after to find a pillow under my head and a blanket resting over my body. Quickly, my hand goes to my forehead to discover that my headband has fallen.
"Awake already?" My eyes quickly dart over to the direction of the voice, resting on the face of my rescuer. My fears were confirmed, it was Kankuro.
"I could have taken care of myself, I'm not helpless." I say, a bit of indignity reflecting in my voice.
"I know you're not." His reply came simply.
"I did not wish for you to see me this way, this weakness." I watch as his eyebrows raise, a slight smirk appearing on his painted lips.
"Weakness? I'd say it takes great strength to hold out training as hard as you do." Comes his satisfying reply. My heart accelerates as he kneels down beside me, his fingers brushing aside the strands of brown hair that fall gracefully upon my face, my eyes on his. I do not allow the embaressment to show on my face. When was the last time I'd willingly allowed someone to come so close to me? Finally, he speaks after a bit of heavy silence.
"Why do you work so hard?" He asks. I am speechless for a moment, not sure how to respond. No one's ever questioned my motives for it, they simply accepted it. Finally, I settle on the truth.
"To prove to myself, to everyone, that I'm more than a second-rate Hyuuga, as this mark clearly says. Because maybe one day it'll all be worthwhile, and I'll be accepted at last. And also because I know that at least one person expects me to be strong." I say, looking into his eyes. "But I'd like to know why."
"Maybe that person is smart enough to see that you're much more than second-rate, much more important than that." He says, gazing back. And finally, after so much longing, that second between us seeming to drag on painfully, his lips are on mine at last. I savor his taste, overwhelming and delicious. And in that moment, that wonderful moment as our lips connect, I knew. It was all worthwhile.
