Summary: There is a hidden path behind training ground 8. It leads from a filthy dog house to a rich compound. However, little ever take that path.
A/N: WAAAAHHH! My first KibaHina ever ever ever! W00t W00t W00t! I am so excited! KIBAHINA FANGIRLS (girls is used here for neutrality, it is not pejorative in any way) UNITE!
So this is the companion fic to my Gakemichi (who no one ever reviewed ... bleh).
I like the fact that those two stories kinda depict the love story between Hinata and Kiba and between Hiashi and Tsume when it is more or less at the same stage. I can trace parallels ... PARALLELS ROCK! Let's see if history repeats itself, or if there is any chance that our beloved couple ends up together ...
But there is no love-dovey, yummy HinaKiba yet, you need to be patient! It will come ... one day ...
Warning: Well the fic is rater T, but there will be parts that will be definite M, it will be announced!
Disclaimer: Don't own Naruto ... If I did, Kiba would be shirtless 99% of the time!
:: Prologue ::
A sole glance to her side. He stole a sole one, aware that the Gods would never forgive his blasphemy if he dared to repeat his endeavour.
Dressed in black, the emblem of the Hyūga clan upon her left breast, he knew she cried. Even if a great veil of dark, purplish hair covered her pale features.
Oh how he knew her by heart. He knew her so that it hurt his whole being. His right hand itched so badly, under his haori, his old, faded haori that was too small around the shoulders and that must have belonged to a thousand other men before him. His right hand always had known that its place was right under her expressive eyes as to collect every tear that would come from her broken being.
He guessed that she was clutching the soft silky fabric on her thighs, drowning in sorrow and shame. Sorrow at the idea that the only one she had always looked up to was dead and shameful that it had not been her life, her useless life that had been taken away.
Oh how he knew her, looking at her waning silhouette from afar and how he was tormented by the pain in his throat at the idea that she was crying for another one and that that other one didn't even have the consideration of remaining alive for her sake. Not that he had ever known what a pearl she was.
She had even been ready to die for him, putting herself between an enemy and that undeserving man. What man could not be smitten by the one that put her life at stake only for him? Only one man could have been cruel enough to overlook her beauty, her gentleness and the quiet distinction of her whole character.
The Gods have been just when taking him away from this earth. There was no question about his merits and were they not celebrating them? Did he not receive the post mortem title of Rokudaime (it seems that Danzō did not count that much to anyone and Kakashi would have been no Hokage, according to him)? However, whatever of a great warrior, of a great human being he had been, she was thousands of times more worthy to live. For the simple reason that she was pure. Purer than any creature on this world.
This man that now was nothing but ashes to which the whole village came to bow had been considered as the poster boy for purity of feelings. And yet, he never had it shown like she did. He submitted to rage numerous times when she never did, having undergone challenges he would never know about. He did fight through life to be acknowledged by a whole village, yet never once had he been rejected by the most important people in his life. His father figures stood straight against adversity. Did he not have Umino Iruka and Sandaime Sarutobi to shoulder him through his hardships? She never had anybody because even if anybody had wanted to help her they could not. The problem was not a whole village, but the very people she loved the most and whose diminishing words truly hurt the most, her family. Yet, not once did she give up on the dream of making them proud of her. It had never been to her to look up to him even if she had done that for the last ten years. He had to disappear for all her life to settle in place. By having spent all those years looking up at someone, she had forgotten how much she had accomplished by herself and belittled all her efforts, which at the same time had hindered an even greater evolution of her skills. Always believing that it is by luck that you pass from the academy to genin, from genin to chūnin and finally to jōnin can only undermine the quality of your work as a greater Shinobi. In the end, it had been her or him, and fate had chosen her after all.
The only unfortunate detail in that very situation was that she could not sense that everything that happens by the hand of fate is usually for the best. He however knew, and by knowing, he could not suppress the sinful joy that inhabited his heart thinking that finally she would live as more than a slave to an idolized image of what strength was. As well, his jealousy was calmed. For a rational mind as his, love was something that was buried with death.
However, whatever he could think in his dumb head, whatever he could try to insufflate into her mourning soul with his reflections would not make her raise her head and smile. She was crying and every tear he could not see, but only hear falling on the ground, sent a shiver up his spine. The ice of his whole body was burning. He wanted to launch himself at her, catch her minute, fragile form and run away, far away from there. Maybe, if he only extended a hand towards her, would she be at reach and not bending like a weeping willow towards the icon of the face that she had loved with all her being.
A hand came clasping his shoulder. A calming paw, posed on his back, as to transmit a little bit of its owner's calmness. Turning his head to the side, he noticed his sister, brow furrowed with worry, staring at his convulsed face.
He tried to sketch a smile, but it must have looked as a grimace for her grip to tighten. Nee-san, the only one that had always known about his sinful inclination, and the only one that would have accepted it for what it was. Only her full, dark eyes would comprehend and bear with him the weight of the cult he dedicated to that blind goddess that imposed him the same fate that she herself had undergone.
What did his slitted pupils express for his sister to start to pull at his shoulder? She was not staring at him, her pupilless eyes widening, she was seeing a vision that took place farther than his being. Swiftly turning his gaze to the one he never wanted to leave, he saw her crumble far away from him, under the scrutinizing eyes of people that would not forgive her such sensitivity. Before he could launch himself at her as he had dreamt of, an arm had snaked itself around his throat and was pulling him towards the exit of the temple in which the funeral was held.
The last flash he could perceive was of her being lifted by another man, a detested man that had always been a forewarning of great misery to them, from the day he had seen her crumble under his fist six years ago.
"Otōto ... you need to learn to control your impulses, you have done quite well until now ... What has happened to you, lately ..."
Before she could finish off her reprimand, an enormous beast jumped up and slammed her brother down on the dust. The creature that resembled an over-sized dog must have thought that his master would come out with sorrow in the heart, as it indeed was the case, and that a good roll in the dust would cheer him up as it did years ago.
"Goddamit, off, Akamaru ..."
What was it today, with all those people surrounding him as if he were the one in grief? Why could they not leave him behind and go on their own ways, he did not necessitate them, the only one he needed was her, her that had fallen to her knees in front of the picture of the Rokudaime. The only one that had dared showing a glimpse of her human nature in these times of war.
"Hana, Kiba, we are leaving."
Marching out of the temple before any other guest, the Inuzuka leader passed her erect daughter and her lying son. By no time a tremendous dog added himself to the image of that woman, leader of one of the greatest clans of their village.
For a few instants, in that incense filled place called a temple they had managed to forget how wretched the times were. Uchiha Sasuke had indeed been taking down. One great menace had been lifted from their village, however it had cost them a great warrior, if not the greatest and left them bare to Uchiha Madara, the mastermind of this Fourth Great Shinobi World War.
All the clans felt the pressure of these times, taking in account that most leaders had suffered the Third Great Shinobi War and remembered its stakes and losses. And Inuzuka Tsume was not the least concerned.
She was aware that even if she had battled for her clan's value to be recognized, it would be her kin that would be placed in the first row when the Kyūbi would finally be unleashed on the village and that it would be her people, her dogs and her children that would lose their lives on the battlegrounds.
That was the only reason why she would not kneel in front of anybody anymore. There were no Gods, no Kamis to save her, to save them now. And the Godaime could not do much but bow her head at the elders' requests (lucky enough that Danzō was dead) and at the council of the clans. It would be voted again that the Inuzuka be sent in a recognition from which they would never come back.
"Hana, take my haori and bring me those files we have gone through yesterday. I want also a new estimation of our effectives."
"Hai, okaa-san!"
"Kiba, go through all the war dogs again. The usual weekly tests ..."
Only a growl as response. He was still shook by the funeral.
Whenever she entered the Inuzuka main house, their mother transformed into an old woman he noticed. Under the judging stares of Konoha's great, she was more energetic than a young wolf, however as soon as she crossed the border that led her to her own little haven, she would let worries dig lines on her forehead, around her mouth. Tiny marks of agitated years as those soft, lovable wrinkles under her eyes that witnessed of sleepless nights spent crying.
He was not the only one to notice that years had started gnawing at her; Hana as well had seen the number of her daily tasks increase. She could sense that her mother, her beloved mother that had always shouldered her in her choices and decisions, would soon enough step down from her altar as great saviour of the Inuzuka clan and pass her the torch.
And she would take it; she would grasp it with all the strength in her right hand and become the pillar of the Inuzuka clan.
"Hana ... How many have died, this week?"
"Five, okaa-san. Four men, two of which died during an S-classed mission to Iwagakure while performing their duty as ANBU, one other dispatched with an oinin group meant to take down Zetsu and a genin taken by surprise with his teammates. Three women, all three tokujō, tracking down some nukenin."
A sigh was the only response to such desolating statistics. A heartbreaking sigh of a woman that understood what it was to be a mother. How many of those people left behind children and how many people just lost their children? The number of deaths all of a sudden seemed bigger when studied in such a way.
"What are the effectives?"
Her voice broke, leaving Hana perplex as to continue citing the statistics or leaving.
"The effectives, Hana. Do not make me repeat."
A smile ghosted around her daughter's lips. If Tsume was demanding, there was nothing to be worried about.
"Currently there are six hundred eighty three members in the Inuzuka register. Two hundred sixty four are forty and over. Two hundred eighty are between twelve and forty. One hundred thirty nine are under twelve years of age. There are four hundred fifty five females and two hundred twenty eight males. In all, we have only three hundred eighty six shinobi ready to fight, as this year there is quite a number of pregnant females and the late deaths of younger experienced shinobi have greatly mined our battalion. One forth of them are genin and chūnin, two fourths are Tokujō and another forth are experienced jōnin."
A heavy lump created itself in Tsume's throat, it was as if all her rage, sorrow, frights had concentrated at that very spot, pulsating at the same time as her thoughts flooded her mind.
Raising her head to stare at her daughter, she wondered how come someone like her had gotten so easily pregnant twice. She regretted it, staring at her little girl's big, sympathetic eyes.
Just yesterday it felt like Hana was strapped to her back, drooling and smiling with that toothless grin of newborns. Observing her features, and taking the time to analyze her from head to toe, anyone would have guessed that she had nothing of an Inuzuka. To some extent, it calmed her mother. Maybe just this once, this once, the Great Reaper would preserve one of hers. Yet, the sinister shadow of loss gave the impression of following her son's every step ...
"Hana ..?"
"Okaa-san?"
"What are the odds that Kiba survives this war?"
A pregnant pause. A silence as heavy as an armour.
"The odds are against us. Taking in account that in the last Three Great World Wars, the Inuzuka have been the clan that has endured the greatest losses ... However, Kiba is a Tokujō that will lead the war dogs and it has yet not happened that that very unit has been dispatched at the beginning, therefore if Konoha manages to capture the Kyūbi before the need for him makes itself feel, I believe that he will not even raise his pinkie ... Tokujō are after all the class that experiences war the least."
How Hana was lying, with her soft full eyes that had enough darkness in them to conceal all the truths of this world ... She was so like her father, that could look one directly into the eye and lie without any shame. That was so unlike the frank Inuzuka that blurted the most hurtful truths out as if they were the sweetest compliments. Nonetheless, it could be forgiven when thinking that she did that to preserve her mother's nerves.
"What about you, Hana? What are the odds?"
A feral laughter lit up the room. That laughter was the rarest thing that could occur in the Inuzuka household. For the soft, calm and cool Hana to howl with such strength ... At once, all the concerns seemed to fly off.
"My odds are the same as yours, okaa-san. We both have been refused to perform our duty as Tokujō and will be placed in the first row when Uchiha releases his big beast, however I will not die for any country in this world. If I do, who will take care of the tribe?"
Such confidence in the outcome, such cockiness. She was more Inuzuka than her mother maybe who had never embraced battle with such a smile full of her own value. Or maybe was she more like her father who would never pay any attention to the odds and come back alive, beaten to the pulp, but alive and victorious.
"Hana, leave me. Go help Kiba with the tests ... You can put down the statistics there; I will go through them again by myself. We need to take stock of and see what we need as war apparel ..."
"As you wish, okaa-san. Please do not overwork yourself. Not sleeping will not help our cause ..."