A love between two people.
Hyuuga Hizashi was the first to witness it. He was formed in the most perfect vessel, sired by the best his clan could possibly offer. He grew up receiving love from both parents, but seeing little love between them. His mother's soft countenance was never flawed as her emotions were always evident in her times of silence. While Hiizashi was still too young to leave the security of his mother's breast, he was old enough to perceive the still softness in her eyes.
At four years old Hizashi's physical growth and prowess became evident to all who knew him. He was at ease with his body, as most toddlers his age would display a still sloppiness in their newfound steps. He was graceful even at his small height. Fast. Sharp and agile. It was not until he entered the academy that he had inherited all that the clan had dreamed of. It was not until then because Hizashi's abilities were never tested against his peers. He was a natural born Hyuuga genius. But of self-confidence, he learned of what he could from his mother.
"Humbly bow your head, dear son," Hyuga Hinata spoke ever so softly to her son while tending the garden with a graceful stroke. "It is an essential gesture you must learn."
She knew best in humble confidence, as she was known to have accepted her duties and her fate within the clan without a protest, without a flutter of an eye. Within the leadership of the Hyuuga she sat tall and displayed a stern fist. Graceful, bound with strength. Her heart found its voice and never faltered amongst her own. Her mind was always clear, her heart as pure as any conscience could allow. She grew confident, strong, and although it was late in immerging in the eyes of the clan, it seemed to have been passed down into the psyche of her small son.
Hizashi looked everything like his father. Piercing white eyes and coarse strands of brown colored hair pulled back in a tie. His innocence was also that of his father. It left him vulnerable in soul, eager to please the expectations of his family and believing in their empty praises of him.
He felt skewed between his two unloving parents. They did not fail in showing him their affections towards him, however. Hinata would hold him close to her as a babe, refusing the wet nurses and dismissing them from their traditional duties while taking such duties upon herself. Hizashi would bury his white face onto her ample breasts, either to shy away from others or as a means of protection. When Hizashi fell and scathed his knees, it was his mother that would touch the damaged skin with her glowing blue fingertips, which were usually aimed at killing rather than healing.
He would hide within the folds of her kimono and smell her sweet lavender and peach scent. The warmth of her body would soothe him. He basked in the security of knowing in all of his senses that his mother was there. When he was presented to the public he would often shy away as his mother would have. But because of his young age and incredible prowess; Hizashi was never reprimanded or scolded for his unbecoming behavior.
His father was as stout and strict as the grandfather he barely knew. Hyuuga Neji would never pick up his son after falling down. He did not do so even while the young boy was learning to walk. He was forceful, stiffly holding him and allowing him to stand on his own. Hizashi's legs were shake and tire out, but it was Neji that would say to him that one's limits are only in his mind alone. It was much to instill in a young boy such grievous lessons in life, yet his father treated him as he had the mind and wisdom of an adult.
The two would trail the gardens when Hinata was not present. Neji would tell him the tales of past Hyuuga, the tales of his own youth, and tell Hizashi how much he wished him to be greater than him. Hizashi remembered being held on his father's shoulders whenever they crossed a rapid river. His tiny hands would grasp the deep brown hair that seemed so much like his own, and once in awhile the young boy would fall asleep unknowingly while perched on his father's shoulders. He would never be woken from his sleep, as his father said it was unhealthy to be jarred from childhood dreaming. He would gently wake on his own, the scent of deep pine and incense filling his nostrils as he recognized this smell to be of his meditative father.
It was rare that Neji would ever tell his son that he loved him, but the kind and soft looks that he exchanged to his son was surely the gesture of the grandfather before them. The grandfather, which, Hizashi had learned, had so much love for his brother as to die for his sake.
But still…Hizashi would not have expected to one day wake from sleep breathing in the scent of lavender and peaches, as well as pine and incense, together. He knew that his parents did not love one another, but it was a different kind of love that did not come from the epic tales of love and war.
At six years old Hizashi spoke more fluently, and was unofficially given the duty to protect his younger twin sisters, Natsumi and Nyoko. As the family grew in time so did the bond between the children. Hizashi was at first apprehensive at the delivery of two more Hyuuga. He soon learned that he would want to protect his younger sisters, not because it was a duty that they should offer to him, but because he was a male Hyuuga and felt it was part of his responsibility to watch over them.
Unlike the grandfathers before him, the two girls looked nothing like each other. Natsumi bore the dark indigo strands of her mother, and Nyoko inherited the deep brown hair of the Hyuuga. Even at such a young age their personalities were far from the same. Natsumi was brash and careless like their father in his worst phase, as Nyoko was painstakingly shy. Nyoko was perhaps the favorite of Hinata, whose kimono sleeves were shield her from the glares of judgment from the other Hyuga, and also because she was technically the youngest. It was clear, then, that Natsumi was the favorite of Neji. Even while she wobbled on small chubby legs, she would trail his steps hoping to follow Hizashi and Neji wherever they went. Her small frame would always sit perfectly in the dojo while she watched father and son practice and spar.
Hizashi watched his toddler sisters drift slowly to sleep on their soft mattresses, together like two best friends, and gently tuck their pink quilts under their round chins. Their arms were intertwined and they embraced one another. Hizashi wished deeply within himself that he would someday see this from their parents, an honest and innocent display of affection. He left their room in silence and began to walk the halls of the Hyuuga compound alone. It was often the case for him, for he was old enough to go to sleep without the aid of a simple story or the embrace of a parent.
While his small feet began to steadily patter on the hardwood floor, he heard the echoing of voices in the distance. In these parts of the compound, there were only few Hyuuga as it was closest to the courtyard, and furthest from everyone else's sleeping quarters. His natural curiosity drew him closer to the source of the noise.
The voices seemed to be that of a grown man and that of a grown woman. Hizashi walked closer, the soft voices breaking into the silence of the night. He paused in his steps determining that one more would be too much. He settled and sat outside a sliding door with his legs crossed and small hands placed neatly on his lap. It was the perfect emulation of what his father would do while in meditation.
His eyes slowly and painfully focused on his lap, pulsing veins growing at the corners of his sockets and his pupils slowly sharpening. At six years of age, the Hyuuga were not expected to master Byakugan without hand seals. But Hizashi was a natural genius, even he himself would discover mysteries of his body without knowing it.
His eyes went back. He saw quite at a distance away two familiar chakra patterns. He saw the rugged, thick lines that he recognized as his father's, whose chakra buildup was always impressive because of his early training. He saw the finer, yet bold lines of his mother, whose sharpened precision of control was due to her natural formation of tightly compressed chakra. Hizashi meant to stay to watch their lips and hear their voices together. He had seldom seen them speak to one another. He hoped to see any hint of it now.
He could not understand the meaning of what they said, for his mind was too young still, but his eyes lifted when he saw his father's form approaching his mother's. This shocked Hizashi. He had never seen his father touch his mother.
"Why did you do it, Hinata-sama?" Neji's voice demanded. Hizashi could perceive it all. The vibrations of their voices, the movement of their bodies. He had never left his title of her, even in marriage. His hands gripped tighter on his wife, practically driving her back and pinning her against the wall.
Hinata was silent as her eyes trailed down to her side, her dark lashes hiding the lurking tears. She did not resist Neji as a woman would do when threatened with bruises.
"You cannot betray me, you cannot betray us in that way." His father's voice was in a near hiss. His said each word while shaking her body in his grasp, hands at her shoulders. "We've gone through much for the sake of our children, do you understand what this would do to them?"
Hinata's lips slowly formed a bitter smile, as her eyes remained hooded and unable to look at her husband. "Do you think our lack of affection has already told them enough of how we feel about one another?"
Neji's body pressed against Hinata's, his voice rising and his anger evident in the growing veins at the corner of his eyes, his Byakugan attempting to form yet restrained. He was almost growling now, snarling. His eyes were narrowed and it was evident he was angry. "How could you do this to me, Hinata-sama? I risked everything to bring the clan together, to stop that cursed juin from being placed on another member. I did this so that the future of Hyuuga would not have to suffer as we have, or as our fathers before us. I only asked for your loyalty!"
Again Hinata was silent. She would suffer herself to bear with Neji, it seemed.
Neji scoffed, "Is your head so high up the clouds to not realize what kind of card fate dealt us? It is for your safety that I did this, Hinata-sama. I did this not only for you but for our whole clan. Amidst it all I never asked for you to love me."
Neji's eyes were wide and his grip on Hinata ever more tightly, almost as if he were to break her bones. The young heiress did not attempt to mutter a sound of pain, however, and this seemed to anger Neji the more.
"But because you are selfish you would seek love away from the Hyuuga, would you? It would not matter to me if it was your body you offered, or otherwise. You'd offer them your heart. And you'd accept their agitated love letters without rejecting them, even though you are a married woman! You'd have the audacity to speak with these men without consulting me. And you don't seem to understand that at the moment we vowed is the moment we chained ourselves to one another. Do you understand, Hinata-sama? Everything you do is now my concern."
Hinata's soft voice and steady eyes slowly leveled to Neji's, and her voice was sharp and unshaken. "You have it all wrong, Neji-niisan."
Neji's grasp tightened, "How is it that I have this all wrong?"
"The kiss was not given but stolen," she stated almost curtly. "You are reacting as a jealous husband would. I did not suspect you had that much concern for me, Niisan."
"Then you admit you allowed it to happen to anger me?" Neji roared.
"I allowed it happen to show you that you care about my fidelity to you more than you could admit."
The two were then silent. Neji's hands on Hinata's shoulders quietly left. Her kimono sleeves were slightly pulled off then, with the violence of Neji shaking her in his anger, and soon his eyes saw that he had left grievious marks, dark and purple, on her delicate shoulders.
Something had stirred in him then. It was a mixture of sensuality and disgust.
Hinata's hands drew up to cover her bruised shoulders, showing little emotion to the pain inflicted upon her. It was clear that she had known this feeling before, but has grown indifferent to it. As her fingers gently touched her silk kimono, Neji's hands suddenly touched her, slightly shaking.
His eyes were downcast and a frown began to chisel at his face. "I…I am sorry."
Hinata's eyes were also downcast, but she did not respond.
Neji's fingers feathered over her fresh bruises, his eyes suddenly turning. "I am sorry…"
"You were forgiven the moment it happened, dear cousin. I bid you good night now…"
Hinata again made her way to leave his presence, turning slowly, but found herself still prisoner to her husband as his hand touched her. His fingers brushed against her soft cheek, bidding her to turn to him. It was then that Hizashi realized that the touch was far from hostile or malicious. In the strangeness of it all he saw his father's fingertips lightly tracing upon his mother's jaw, as vulnerable and tender as he could ever be.
From then, it was hard for Hizashi to determine if the kiss was either given or stolen from his mother's lips.