A Strength Not Their Own
(Salvation)
We are supposed to be killers; Artist of the night.
Masters of illusion, deception and….assassination.
Whether in a unit or alone, our prey would know neither-
as we slip in as quietly as the mist
and fade out before a blinking eye had the time to sway the dust from its lens…
In our world, our bodies are enhanced-Touched, some may say, by the gods themselves.
Or cursed…by the devils that reveal in our self-destruction. This world is ours and not our own
in the same breath. We have created it and cursed it with the same tongue. But we are bound to
it: all who chose this path, tying everyone we love to us by the strings of our decisions.
We have no name that is our own.
We exist only for the desires for others.
We are demons.
We are magicians.
We are gods.
We are tools.
We are ninjas.
I was twelve. No, I take that back, I had to be a lot younger than that when I first made up my mind to become a shinobi. I remember... I was watching Uncle as he spent long hours at the Main house's court yard, punching or kicking the air in a pattern that had me wide-eyed in adoration. Some days he was alone, then there were days where my cousin or my father would join him, and they would go through those motions together, pushing themselves well past what I fathomed the human body could do.
The first time I asked Father if I could join Uncle and do what he was doing, I was reprimanded heavily. Though my father is a fairly quiet man, his eyes told it all-that I was a failure even before I'd been given the opportunity to try. That was the day I learned what I was to the people I knew back then…and from that, I embraced fear and insecurity as my name…
I was surprised when I finally was allowed to start academy training in the village, though looking back it seemed more like an unavoidable chore that couldn't be helped by my family. Father had found me in the house's garden with my nurse. I remember I was watching a small beetle attempting to move a large clod of clay. It was much larger than he, yet as many times as the clay would shift and land over on him, he would kick at the air until he would right himself again, then charge right back at the clump. The movement of the clay was hardly noticeable to any one else, had they taken the time to glance down at him, but to me, that beetle was moving the world. So when my father had come to me and said that it would be shameful that the heiress of the Main branch to not at least know the basic knowledge of the Gentle Fist…to at least retain the honor bestowed upon our name through his father's blood, I was allowed to join my cousin at the Academy to train the following fall, but to not get in his way. Though I could never express it outwardly, I was overjoyed of this change in my life. I had become that beetle. I would move my world and become different. As Father turned away to leave me in the garden that evening, he squashed the beetle and his clay underneath his sandal…
I awoke sick the morning of the first day. I hadn't been able to eat much dinner the night before and I hadn't gotten much sleep, either. My nurse was so concerned, that she tried to convince my father to permit me to stay home until I was better. My ears stung as I heard "pathetic" as he turned from my bedroom doorway. I thought of my beetle friend and I fought my way up and got ready to face the day. I was to walk with my cousin, since this would be his first day as well. I remember offering him my shy awkward smile and my cheeriest hello, though I know it was stammered. What I remembered most about that day was how cold he looked as he stared down at me. Although we shared the same blood, it was as if we were as different as any two strangers could be. I felt like a burden and I could see that in his eyes. We walked the entire way in silence…
There were so many different kinds of people that day that I didn't know where to start! In the beginning, we were separated: the boys from the girls, so aside from my cousin, I knew no one and therefore couldn't even rely on his silent form to hide behind. Most of the other girls were so lively: laughing, talking loudly, and making new friends…all around me. I didn't know where to fix my eyes! I met her that day, I remember, first. She seemed to know so much and she appeared much more mature than I was. Having spent most of my time confided to the inner walls of the Main house for "protection", I knew very little about anything. She kept her blonde hair swept behind her ears and pinned with a clip and her turquoise eyes shinned with confidence. I envied her as she approached me…her smile outshining the sun as she greeted me with her name.
Straight to the point.
Then she leaned in so closely that I started to become even more embarrassed than I already was. She was looking at my eyes.
She had seen them, before, she informed me. My translucent eyes made me a bit different. She said that she knew a thing or two about kekkei genkai-it was in my blood. She told me it made me like him in a way…but that didn't mean I could ever possess him. I can smile about it now, because I know she didn't mean it that way, but then…she had made me confused, and I felt strange, wishing that my hair was longer so that I could cover what made me so different…
It was a few year after that before I found my own little lump of clay…or my "world" and understand what she meant. I had been attending the Academy consistently, but I knew, like it seemed everyone else did, that physically, I was no better than when I started. I was surprised when Father had taken some time to help me condition my "special eyes", but our sessions always ended with him leaving in frustration, noting that a shinobi's lifestyle was not for someone a delicate as me…or as weak. I must admit, his words were sinking in. I wasn't the best in my class, even though I did ok with problem solving, but physically, I was barely noticeable, especially compared to my cousin, who'd already been deemed as the Academy's newest rising star.
I remembered the night the before my life would start to change drastically. The following morning our classes would now be combined with the boys that we'd started with and the beginning of decisions that would be made about our futures. I couldn't sleep, but it wasn't because of the first day jitters…I had adjusted to those moments over the years…no, this time I was thinking about just that-my future. Why was I pursuing a shinobi's life so badly? I wasn't any good at it and nothing more was expected from me by my family but my marrying a young man from my family's many business connections when I became of age. If being a shinobi was to help me carve my own path at the time, then I was failing miserably. I was unlike him, when I finally got a chance to see him: the dark haired boy who I'd learned had suddenly lost his entire clan and his name…I saw in his eyes during that brief glance what I both craved and feared: determination.
I told myself to give it one more day.
Just one.
And I prayed; that if a shinobi's path is my fate, then show me through "these eyes".
The next day, I saw him.
He was a whirlwind, in more ways than just his name! I can't help but smile as I reflect on this now on this bed, alone in this room…even after so much time; my heart still skips beats…
He saved me, from myself, without ever knowing. As I watched him that day, I was drawn to him, my eyes barely finding the time to view anything else. Everyday, I anxiously awaited the moments where I could see him again and as time passed, I saw one thing: he was a failure. Even the simplest of jutsu seemed beyond him, save that "special" one he did to get a rise out of our poor Sensei. As embarrassing as it was then, it makes me laugh thinking on it now. But, he…he just wasn't any good. However, watching him, I learned something very important and that is what changed my life…
He never gave up.
That day he had become my little beetle friend and I was awe-struck. There was nothing he wouldn't try to accomplish. I watched him fall over a hundred times, but he just got back up, even stronger than before. The insults that was thrown at him and what I later discovered-much later-the fear of him, just pushed him more. He even boldly declared that the highest title in our village would be his one day! How could a labeled failure ever dream that?
Needless to say, I was crushed when the class was divided into the cells that would carry us throughout our entire shinobi career. He was placed with another kunoichi from my earlier days at the Academy. She was a bright girl with bright hair like the flower that was her name; a girl with strong determination in her eyes. It reflected their other member; the boy with the eyes I both feared and wanted…though not at the cost…
But I watched him still, and I turned him from my beetle to my clay; my clump that I wished to move-my world that I wished to make my own. I silently cheered on his accomplishments and quietly cried and prayed for him when he failed. In my times alone, I imagined him rooting for me. His half closed eyes smiling back at me as I pushed myself further, trying to calm my heart as he spoke my name in congratulations…
My prayers had been answered and I stayed at the academy. My new teammates were as different s night and day and I wasn't sure how I mixed into the fray. After sensei explained that the teams were picked for balance, I figured I was the weak link that needed the babysitting amongst my comrades. It seemed my home life had filtered into this one as well…
In the beginning, things were simple. Our missions weren't anything like the shinobi I had studied or like Father or Uncle. No, in the beginning, it was more like glorified busy work. When I had heard that his team had accidently had a d-rank mission turn into a higher classed one that had almost gotten them killed, I was lost in awe and adoration as I heard the story of how a rookie genin team and their genius teacher faced off against the "demon of the mist". It made me train a little harder…
I should be honest with myself now and admit something deeper, something that really changed my life and solidified my feeling for him.
Exams to prove a ninjas worth and increase his title was hosted in our village and we rookies were signed to enter. It was a test of survival of the fittest and I was determined to prove to everyone that I was amongst the strongest. I wanted everyone I knew to see that beneath the shy persona and behind the downcast eyes was a true shinobi-one of the strongest to walk the path.
The first few days were hell. I experienced a fear I hadn't found again until recently…that fear showed me the realities of the path I was choosing, but it brought my teammates and I closer…in teamwork and friendship. However, it was when I faced my cousin in the advancement rounds afterwards that I learned my name. It was when he spoke it…yelled it out across the auditorium, cheering for me like I'd imagined in my private dreams. It was here where I'd first begun to find me.
I almost died that day. I remember how hard it was to breathe. But that pain didn't hurt as bad as my cousin's words. I learned of his feelings…the disdain in his eyes looked past me and into what he thought at the time, was the truth. My cousin, the one who had to accompany me to the academy to make sure I didn't get hurt or was ordered to "keep it simple" whenever I wanted to train and no one else wanted to…his distant eyes…how could I forget them as they burrowed into me with so much hatred. Though on the surface they mirrored my own, his were so much more different…I knew then that that moment would be his resolve, his determination, his way of getting back at the fate that was thrust upon him and imprisoned him by our family. Taking my life was meaningless; my death would be proof of his existence beyond his "mark". As I laid there on the floor, my tears fell for my cousin because I understood his pain…but unlike him, I had found freedom when "he" called my name…in that moment he became my rescuer, but I couldn't allow him to write the end of my story in such a way…to roll over me and cut of my air supply and mark me as someone always needing to be rescued. That suffocation would be far greater than any punishment dealt to me by my cousin…
From then on, I fought with every cell in my body. Even through the attack on the village, I fought. Past the death of our leader, I fought. Beyond words to give up and questions of why I was pushing myself so hard, my reply was to keep fighting, to keep nudging my clay up the hill until he could see me next to him, not just in his shadow.
I'll never forget the look on his face when I was able to show him what I was made of, what I knew was buried deep inside all along that he'd help to blossom. My heart was pounding out of control. Even before I verbally suggested that life changing mission, I had slowly begun to "see" my changes…and so could others around me. Cousin…even Father could see a difference in even the way my head was a little higher. I was changing and it felt good. Finally, finally, I was becoming what I'd hope to become-a true shinobi.
But now…as I lay here, my eyes feeling so heavy as I gaze out of this window in this small room, where I know he is still fighting- my breathing labored and my life slipping, I wonder…what does he think of me now? Would he think of me as the rescuer of his heart like he was mine when, at long last I conquered my greatest fear since meeting him that day, so many years ago? Or would he think of me as reckless…not acknowledging the gift I willingly gave to him…that as thanks for saving my life, that mine would be his and as I stared down death, just a few hours ago, my clay had finally become my world and I was looking down upon it for a change, happy to defend it with all my strength.
My body…is battered, but my mind…my mind is still holding onto these thoughts of him; my beetle, my whirlwind, my drive, my heart…
Yes, I think now I truly understand why I chose to walk the path of the shinobi long ago…
Hm.
I do wonder…what he would think of me now…
Huh? Na…ru…to…
A/N: ok, this is something i never do, an author's note at the end of on of the fictions i've written, but i'm doing this because i know this one needs a bit of explaination. this is a fic based on the naruto-universe. this story is labled "in progress" because it is just that, a work in progess. the concept i am doing for this fic is a series of interlocking one-shot stories of a few of the characters in the naruto series. this one is hinata's. seccond to naruto, she's my favorite. this story, though anyone who hadn't read the manga can get into it, it makes more since if the reader has read at least chapter 437 titled :Confession. she is, for lack of a better term, monologuing what has happened directly after she has been recovered,lol. anyway, i just thought i'd clear up any confussion...normally, for those who've read my stories, i reserve my rantings or rather ramblings, for my profile page...oh well. i can tell you now that i'm not sure how many charcaters i will cover through this series, but i can tell you that it won't very long, i'm not doing EVERY major character and, it is centered around the events of pain's attack on the village (i probably should have said spoiler alert...sorry...) anyway, as always, please enjoy, and leave me some feedback on this one.