Author's Notes, part 1: I'm going to warn you all now, I have no Beta-writer and have more cob-webs on my writing muse then a haunted house does. I don't expect this to be my perfect comeback to writing, but I'll try. To be honest, i've got 3-4 chapters of this story already written out, but with my lack of confidence in my skills, it'll be unlikely i'll be doing mass updates.

Another thing to note is how, in this story, I try not to use japanese words, other then -sama/-san and the like. I could, but I feel like it'll detract from the story if I abused it too much. Also, please bear with me with the pace of the romance portion of this story goes; I don't think love at first sight is going to happen very quickly with the two (Hinata is amazingly difficult to write) main characters, and there IS a heavy dose of OOC in here (But that is more in my personal opinion and I could be very wrong...). Erm, i'll stop rambling here.

Disclaimer: I do not own any copyrighted characters or ideas. End of story.


Over time


It had only 5 days since she had last left her home to come to the wind swept lands of Sunagakure, and already Hinata felt as if she had been gone for far too long. Being alone in a village where the most she had in relationships was very vague acquaintances made her uneasy. There was no Kiba to pull her out of her shell, no Shino to comfort her racing mind, no friends to drag her with their chaotic ways, and no family here to greet her when she came home, even if it was cold welcome. Without these comforts, Hinata found herself to be spending her time on idle thoughts and darkened outlooks. She truly didn't wish to be here, much less here for an entire year. But the order had been given by a glowing Hokage, blue eyes full of confidence and a bright grin on his face. Part of her wondered if he noticed how violently her hands were shaking when he pressed the red rimmed scroll into waiting hands. The other part wished she never even considered agreeing.

"Hyuuga-sama, the council has prepared a separate room for your screening. If you could please…" Gruff words to her right startled Hinata and her shoulders jumped, but she forced herself not to scream in fright. Turning her body slightly in her chair, she nodded softly before she pushed off the chair to follow the man Hinata assumed to be her escort, down several flights of stairs, and stopped in front of a wooden door. Hinata let her hand curl around the handle, and then shut her eyes, utterly terrified about what was about to happen. This time biting her bottom lip, she took a few quick breaths, desperately trying to calm herself down. It was procedure. Every other person in her place had to face this indignity. She WOULD get through this, for the sake of her beloved home, oh so far way. Hours seemed to tick by, and slowly, Hinata gathered her nerves and turned the knob.

Upon entering, Hinata noted that the room was windowless and for the most part dark, a single lamp hanging overhead in the center of the room being the only source of light. Her heart jumped again and she almost backed out, but her body moved automatically forward. Entering the spotlight, she heard the door click shut, and the shuffling of feet and bodies. If she wanted to, Hinata could of easily used her family's blood limit to see past the glaring darkness which seemed intensified by the only light source overhead and to see the identify the people around her. She did not, if only because she had nothing to hide.

"Hyuuga Hinata-sama, to ensure that you and your country's are pure," A familiar voice began, the tone clearly indicating that the woman speaking thought little of the formal procedures, "We ask for your full corporation with the customary procedures. When you are ready, please raise both your arms so we may begin." A moment to collect her thoughts and calm her fluttering heart, Hinata raised both arms parallel to her arms and tried not to flinch as two hooded women, or at least she prayed they were female, appeared at her side. Their wrinkled hands made motions and she felt the chakra draining restraints latch onto her wrists like greedy leeches. Both whispered something under their breaths and began to unbuckle the straps to her protective vest. Though she knew better, Hinata's cheeks flushed and she tried not to cringe when her clothes began to flutter to the floor. From the corner, the scratching of pen against clipboard, an occasional grumble, and a muttered whisper to someone who did not respond. Hinata exhaled loudly as the bindings around her chest fluttered away, and she began to count the seconds silently in her head.

The inspection had taken 2034 seconds, roughly, to finish. It took her less then 149 seconds to shove everything back on in an unlit corner of the room. Finally, far too quickly to count, Hinata was ushered out and a much relieved Temari to forcefully pull her outside of the building, into the crowded streets, and into the nearest bar. Unable to take into account how she was more or less transported from point A to point B by someone she had very little personal history with, Hinata barely recognized orders being given out and a glass slammed in front of her.

"Drink." Temari barked out before her own shot was inhaled. The idea of imitating the intimidating blond crossed her mind, but Hinata decided to just toy with her glass before taking a small sip. The clear liquid burned and made her breath feel oddly citrusy, just with no taste. Wincing as she let the rest of her single mouthful burn all the way down, she eyed the Sand jonin warily.

"That lazy idiot mentioned you were coming in his last letter. Figured you'd need a drink after the strip-down." Another gulp of a refilled glass, "The old bastards pull out all the rulebooks the moment and pretty young woman walks in. Perverts, the whole lot of them." Hinata choked on the second sip of the mysterious clear liquid, and gave Temari a look of horror. She had been blissfully unaware that, unlike Konoha, there were no limitations on who was allowed to view the inspection. If her father ever heard this, or even worse, Neji-nii-san… Her forehead touched the cool wood of the bar and she let loose a low groan. No, it would not do her any good to envision the utter chaos her cousin would invite…

Temari, all the while, watched the waif of a shinobi from the corner of her eye. The poor thing hardly looked able to hurt a fly, much less enforce her will on behalf of Konohagakure, but she couldn't discount the fact that looks never were a good indicator of skill and the level of threat she could induce. The Hyuuga's body had been littered with extremely faint scars, the most noticeable one being a circular discoloration, below her left breast. The girl was no simple noblewoman, that's for sure.

"Finish your drink already." muttered Temari, as she savored the third drink of the night. When the flustered woman didn't lift her head, the sand-nin called upon the small details that Shikamaru had mentioned in his report, about how to coax the woman beside her into actually talking.

"So, what's with the little claw marks down your back? Rambunctious lover?" Hinata's head shot up with an indignant and far to loud no. When she realized that her outburst had caught the attention of the rest of the small bar's patrons, she coughed softly and tried to pass it off with by drinking her first shot of the night. Temari couldn't quite stop the grin on her face, as she continued.

"Interesting birthmark you got on your inner thigh, looked like some kinda feather. Anyone else got an opinion on that?" It was very apparently that, no, no one else knew of her particular birthmark, Temari snickered as Hinata flinched and tried to cover the look of horror with another attempt at swallowing her drink. "Also, did you also know that when your blush, it goes all the way to your…" Hack. Sputter.

"Temari-san!" The look on the Leaf nin's face was just so priceless, it tore into Temari's sides. No longer able to hide it, the sand-nin burst out laughing. Hinata tried to look insulted, but even her lips turned upwards at little. Temari made a mental note to thank whomever this Kiba kid Shikamaru mentioned was for the helpful tip on how to get the damn girl to open up quickly.


Night turned into day and Hinata found herself wishing once again that she was back home, but not for the reasons she had been brooding about the night before. The flowing robes, the heavy silk denoting her station and blood, were smothering her, even in the air conditioned tower. It almost felt like the heat of the sun had melted into the fine threads, her body threatening to crumble under the heat. Her forehead crinkled as she refocused her mind on keeping perfectly still. Passing out would not go well, especially when the person in question is the sole representative of their homeland and the beloved Hokage. She could feel her hair being shifted, folded over itself, while the small bell, hidden tracker and all, in the Kazekage's hand desperately tried to make noise in his hands.

His hands are unusually unscarred for someone with so much experience, she mused as she quickly steadied herself. Even her own hands had the remains of the small knicks and scrapes of the standard shinobi's training, even though the common belief within her family was that the hands were to be taken care of before all else. She doubted that they'd be smooth like hers, but they were most likely far less abrasive then Kiba's. Her head jerked automatically to shake her head clear of the thoughts, until a twang of pain stopped her thoughts. Eyes darted up and pearly white clashed with faded sea green, and for the first time in the last 135 hours, time seemed to stop completely. All seeing eyes couldn't see anything in his barely lit ones that seemed to question why.

Before she could exactly question what he meant, his eyes dropped and continued weaving the pale blue cord into her hair, as if silently reprimanding her for interrupting the procedure. Letting go of her held breath, she let her eyes close shut, mortified with her actions. Minutes passed and finally the braid was finished, the silken cord slipping from the Kagekage's fingers. Warm metal bounced off her neck and the bell's chime reminded Hinata to stand, head still low to the ground. Stepping back, she thanked him and turned, hands dropping to her sides, only to fold in front of her. The bell rang in time with her quiet footsteps as she exited the room, only pausing to turn her head slightly to stare back at the boy no older then she, yet seemed to have far more years of pain to shoulder. Blond hair, blue eyes flashed in her mind's eye, and an ache blossomed in her chest. Unclasping her hands, she pressed one hand over where it ached and clawed against the heavy silk.

"Naruto… kun."


Her hair was like soft, feeling like smooth silk. Perhaps that was what all noble born girls shared in common. Gaara flexed his hand and then meshed his fingers together, leaning his chin on them as he waited for Temari to reappear from wherever she slinked off to whenever he wished to be 'alone'.

"What do you think of Hyuuga-san?" Temari questioned as she approached Gaara from the other side of his desk. A soft hn was her answer, before he leaned back in his chair.

"Unimpressive." If Gaara were to really think about his assessment, he would of found it not entirely true; He really couldn't pass judgment. The Hyuuga female's appearance suggested she was ill-suited for fighting and previous knowledge of her skills that they were below average at best, but his information on the Hyuuga clan's members were far from up-to-date. Temari pursed her lip in thought and tilted her head, catching Gaara's attention.

"I don't really agree with that but…." She began but flinched when Gaara interrupted her, his tone only a touch softer then usual.

"She was trembling that whole time."

"… Geez… For once, I think all that paperwork's addled your brain there. That's why I keep telling you to take a god dam-"

"Temari…."

"Fine, I get the point. Oi, Kankuro, get in here already."

"What is it, I'm busy enough as it." Kankuro growled as he peaked back in the room, arms overloaded with scrolls and papers. Temari just gave him a look, one that just said Just get in here idiot and began to sift through the scrolls. Kankuro grumbled again before glancing back out the door.

"That's the new ambassador from Konohagakure? Wonder how long she'll last." Picking up a scroll to his side, Gaara opened it and only half listened to his siblings as they chatted amongst themselves. He almost stopped listening completely when he recognized something in the tone that suggested amusement.

"I say 6 days." 6 days… for what?

"Give Hyuuga-san some credit. I mean How many layers do you think she was wearing? Kinda a waste, I mean, come on, hiding all that under that out-of-date outfit? I'd do her in a heartbeat. 9 days." That was an odd question. Lifting his eyes from the scroll, Gaara gave his sister a blank look again before it dawned on him. Chuckling, Temari slapped a scroll down on top of his paperwork, shoo'd her pack mule out, and turned to leave.

"3 days." Turning her head back, Temari glanced back at her brother who was once more focusing on the scroll in his hand, before shrugging and walking out.


It took Hinata 8 days to oh so politely send her father a message demanding that he send every piece of clothing worn from late spring to mid summer, and next time he ordered her to wear something like the heavy formal robes in the god forsaken desert, then come and wear it himself, THEN tell her what in the freakin' world was proper about it.

Perhaps it would have been wise of her to rethink her request, but at the time, she was hot, sticky, and frustrated with worrying that she was starting to sweat herself to death. She promptly regretted it when she realized that it had been Hanabi who had, with much glee (and lack of care with the folding), packed her clothes. Hinata was quite sure she didn't originally possess so many mesh shirts and colorful undergarments and that her second favorite jacket had not been included.

But at least she had more suitable clothes. Now all she could do was count the days as they rolled by.


Author's Note, part 2: Reviews are nice?