Disclaimer: Naruto is a property of Masashi Kishimoto. I own nothing.
A/N - Ever noticed how some words hold a special tint? You pronounce them and suddenly a colour flashes through your mind. Well, it happens to me - especially with personal names. Maybe because of the people with those names that I've met.
For example, to me: 'Anna' is a soft sunny yellow, 'Miriam' dark red, 'Mia' screams fuchsia, 'Sara' is a distant blue while 'Lara' is golden and black.
Try for yourself.
This story was born from that idea.
Colours
1. Pale
Maybe it was because she was a Hyuuga. As such, she had grown up in a colourless environment. Well… there were colours, but they hardly complied their duty. They weren't playful or full of joy and they barely brought up the beauty of living.
No; brown, white and violet she has been seeing on faces of other family members including Father and Hanabi, their homes, gardens and training areas were, best case, impersonal. Cold and strict at times, but mostly official – neutral office colours. With an indubitable touch of graceful dignity, of course - such suited for a wealthy, ancient family they'd been. Noblesse oblige, in more ways than one.
Maybe that was the reason Hinata developed such sensibility and affection for the spectre that reigned outside the Hyuuga estate's walls.
Everyone had a colour, she noticed. Every living being had their own personal shade, frequently conditioned by one's character or the way others saw them. Most of the people unknowingly adjusted their clothes and styles to that inner tint.
Her teammates, for example. Shino and Kiba. Both shared warm earthly tones of the forest surrounding their village – dark green as tree-tops, mat brown as wood. It reminded her of Konoha. Safe, comfortable, consoling.
Her sensei, then. As her name and her eyes efficiently pointed out – her colour was „crimson". Crimson red, like the compassion and care she showed for her students, especially for a certain timid, shy girl. Crimson like love.
But there was more to the colour. Crimson was strong, crimson was proud. Perfect for a kunoichi Kurenai-sensei was and Hinata wished to be.
Neji-niisan. Neji differed from the other Hyuugas. It was his choice. The reason behind it she had discovered much too late, when it didn't matter anymore. Neji-niisan was already changed. His shade which used to be piercing white cold as snow – softened. It grew into a warmer shade of beige. The one responsible, the one who saved him wasn't her. Far from that. It was, of course, Naruto.
Her lips would melt into a smile every time she remembered. Naruto. He who saved him, he who saved her, who gave her a ninja way, who offered her courage, inspiration and friendship.
'I really like people like you.'
The memory would make her blush momentarily.
His colours were something special. They were so bright, so captivating, so… different from anything she was used to.
They were like the Sun, full of energy and joy and Life! They laughed, boisterous and strong - they were like nothing she had ever seen! Yellow, orange and ocean blue - the exact opposite of everything a Hyuuga was.
Maybe that was why she couldn't take her eyes off of him. He was everything she could never have or be,
even in the matter of colouring.
Because, the statement „Everyone has a colour." had exceptions and she feared she was one of them.
When Hinata tried to sense her own undertone, she would discover she couldn't. The best she could see, if she squeezed her mental eyes hard enough, was a vague, almost translucent whitish mist. Pale – that was her shade. Plain, barely noticeable.
That was why he didn't see her as a girl, that was why he was so oblivious to her shy love! Because she was too pale in comparison with his brightness and the full-fledged colours other girls around him had.
Haruno Sakura, his teammate and, as Hinata understood with a grip of pain, his love interest - had a colour. Lovely rose, happy pink, likeable and sweet.
She couldn't be angry with Sakura and she would extinguish the occasional sparks of jealousy quickly. It was unfair to the pinkhaired kunoichi. The girls like her and Yamanaka Ino (sunny summer yellow and glamorous starry blue) weren't to be blamed for what they were, just like Hinata wasn't to be blamed for her lack of paint. It just so happened, she guessed.
Nevertheless, she wished to change. To develop a colour, if she weren't of enough luck to be born with one.
Easier said than done.
She tried, she tried so hard. She put more effort into her training, she did her best to open up a little to the people around her, to gather more courage. Not just because of Naruto, but for herself as well.
The results were small and slow but present, and they made her happy. Still, it seemed not to be enough. For somewhere along her makeover, another transformation happened. Later, when she'd reminiscence of those past events, she would conclude the signs showed even in their Academy days.
Uchiha Sasuke, another Naruto's teammate, crossed to the darker side, drawing Naruto with him, into countless fruitless pursuits. That same Uchiha Sasuke whose colours' intensity matched Naruto's. Equally strong - complete opposites.
Well, colour rather than colours. Sasuke had one. Black.
Suffocating, deep, dense – such that, like a black hole, sucked in all colours near him into empty depths full of violence, loneliness and hatred. Maybe it wasn't always like that, Hinata wouldn't know, but the fact remained Sasuke's darkness directly opposed Naruto's light, causing him to loose sight for everything but the Uchiha.
A pale little mouse like her wouldn't stand a chance in a clash of two such powerful forces. She was too weak to draw his attention away from his astrayed friend.
…
But that was a loser's talk. It didn't matter.
It didn't matter how weak or inefficient she was – she had to keep telling herself that. Not as long as she existed and tried her most to be there for him.
Stranger things have happened, after all.
For one, he did notice her.
She didn't know how, but that was a part of his surprising, wonderful personality. He saw people – stuck people, broken, those who gave up – people like Neji or Gaara, and beamed on them. Sharing his warmth, drawing them out of their shadows.
He had beamed on her, too.
Even more than just that (as if that wasn't already enough), he considered her his friend, and for the time being – that would have to do.