[Prologue]
The night is cold.
The air is icy, the new fallen snow is still untouched. The moon shines through Hinata's window and bathes her room in silver colours. She is sitting on the ground, a sheet of paper next to her.
She is crying. Silently they are coming up and falling down. They are leaving dark spots on the floor. Her hand is shaking while she writes down the last words. With a melancholic smile she puts the letter into an envelope. She closes it. Breaths out.
It is quiet in the house of the Hyugas. Everybody except her is sleeping. But she can't sleep anymore. That time is long over, though she can still remember the nights she could sleep and dream without any care in the world. She won't return to those times, but create a better one without emptiness and hate and despair. Feelings.
She stands up, leaving the letter at its place on the table. The door slides open as she steps outside. Her breath is shallow, she is calm though she knows what will happen.
She closes her hand tightly around the kunai. No mistakes, no failed missed tonight. "It will be over now," she whispers.
The winds blows through her blue hair and gracefully lifts her dress. Her feet are leaving darker prints in the first snow. The snow came late this year, she muses.
She lifts her head towards the moon. The grip around the kunai makes her hand shake by its force.
One quick movement from her right arm, a short pain flashing through her mind. A liquid is flowing over her fingers and drops on the with snow. Then the other side. The snow gets red stained.
Hinata sighs in relief when she feels the life leaving her body. Time was over. Finally.
She cut her wrists open.
Her body is feeling hot and cold at the same time. Her toes are cold, her breath is raging hot through her lungs. The release and the knowledge of her death make her overflow with joy. She spins around, lifting her arms. A smile appears on her lips, in her eyes, on her soul. Drips of blood around her are capturing her inside.
She gets dizzy. Her knees give in, she falls on the cold ground, unable to hold her own weight anymore. Her eyes search the letter. It is still there.
Her sight gets dark. A last tremor shakes her body.
Then, she dies.
The night is cold. Winter is there. Nature shivers under it's freezing embrace. The trees are covered in white while snow is quietly falling.
Tiny ice crystals start to hide the body. Drenched clothes are splayed around her. Nothing moves. The moon illuminates the garden. There are scents of white and ice and inviolability in the air, along with the faint aroma of blood.