Where devils rest their heads
Shinobi from Kumogakure snatched Hinata Hyuga from her bed, and succeeded in bringing her back to their village. Hinata grows up in the camp of the Institute of Research, where her worth is determined by her Byakugan and her ability to kill. But her aptitude in combat does not go unnoticed by certain powerful parties, and when Hinata is thrust onto the battlefield, it becomes harder and harder to know whom to be loyal to, as the lines between good and bad begin to blur.
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What is your name, girl ?
Soft hands, a hum, moonlight pooling through the cracks in the curtain, a murky sheen
this is your home now, Hinata
please, take me back, a voice like a bell, a phantom touch – daddy ?
your loyalty will be to Kumo
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Etsuki-sensei smiled kindly at her. A sunbeam had edged up her face, made every spot vivid and precise. It rolled over the patches of acne on her chin, stark red against the ashen paleness of her cheeks, over the birthmark above her eye, which circled towards her temple.
"It's going to be alright." Her eyes were brown, wide and open – willing, waiting. Her hair tangled around her face, short and cropped until her shoulders, lips chapped to the point they bled.
Hinata didn't know whether she was talking to her, or the Skin Division girl on the other stool, whose hands spasmed in her lap, shorts hoisted up by a safety pin. Her eyelashes, aflame in the sunlight, were soggy from crying.
"It's not going to hurt," Etsuki said. She leaned forward to lay a hand on the Skin Division's girl's leg. Her nails were jagged, bitten to the quick. Spots of red nailpolish littered the edges.
Hinata flickered her gaze to her own hands, resting on her knees. She remembered the last time she wore nailpolish; Masuyo applied it, after she scooted over towards Hinata's bench, during a history lesson. "You have pretty hands," she said, breath hot and breezing against Hinata's neck. "You've got to put them to work."
"You're going to be just fine," Etsuki-sensei said. A glossy pucker of scar tissue peeked around her wrist, and shimmered in the light of the sunset.
Hinata wondered if Etsuki had been part of a Division too. If she had walked the same corridors in the dry heat of Kumogakure's summers, dust caressing her cheeks and penetrating into every fold of the stiff uniform. If she had slept inside the same wooden barracks, wiry lightning splitting the sky outside, and had been sent to the same labs for regular check-ups, skin ecplising the smell of chlorine.
She wanted to see intentions behind Etsuki's kindness. Believe they were more than thoughtless impulses. Motions generated from experience, rather than pity.
The board above the metal door flickered red. 133, it said. The Skin Division shuddered, and sagged, the desire to flee blatant on her face. Her long-fingered palms cupped each kneecap, squeezing tightly.
Hinata slid off the stool and walked over to the door. She could feel the eyes of the other girl upon her, so she flicked her gaze back, but the girl was already averting her eyes, putting her chin against her chest and flaying the split ends of her hair with her fingers.
Etsuki-sensei put a hand on Hinata's shoulder, and squeezed lightly. "This might be the last time for you," she said. Hinata wondered how the older girl saw her; the dangle of her pin against her chest, the sleepy crease around her eyes.
"Go," Etsuki whispered, her mouth revealing a coral row of teeth. "Make me proud."
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Hinata had been here every month, since the day she arrived at the Institute of Research.
Muramoto Shido worked quietly, filling up the syrings with gloved hands, eyes focused behind his thick-rimmed glasses. In the times she'd been here, he had never said a word to her, moved with the same methodical movements, an almost bored expression seeping onto his face.
His hair was a buzz cut, his eyes a flimsy grey. His gaze was flat, impartial to what he was doing, what was happening. Every so often, his gaze would flick to her face, and lock eyes with her, and then a light would return to his irises, as if he finally took residence in the world again. When he looked away, it was over.
Hinata wondered if this was the Skin Division girl's first time. She had looked about eleven, knees bruised and scabbing over, short murky green hair knotting around her ears. A round face, never lost its baby chub, and sprinkled with freckles.
The first time Hinata had her check-up, the urine had trickled down her leg to leave an anklet of pee. Muramoto had not cared; he strapped her up on the chair, had trailed the slice on her lips with a plastic-clad finger, with apathy curled around every limb. There was no private meaning for those actions, no concern under the gentle padding of a disinfected tissue.
Muramoto moved towards her, and stuck the needle in her arm. Hinata scrunched her eyes together against the sting. Muramoto took it out in one fluent movement, and turned away. Looked down at the clipboard by the chair.
"Activate your Byakugan," he said. It was the first time he had spoken to her, and the sound of his voice was loud and throaty.
Hinata let the chakra flow.
It was a peculiar sensation; the chakra flooded the coils by her eyes, a soft pleasant tingle. The world blazed alive around her. She could see the swirling of Muramoto's charka in his coils, a network of wires unfolding itself. And further away, through the wall, the Skin Division girl, and Etsuki biting down on a nail, and then the camp bustling about, their chakra whirling in their coils like stars in an orbit, and further -
"Do you see the watchtowers?" Muramoto said. The urgency in his voice startled her. He clamped her wrist in his palm, and Hinata's eyes widened, as she tried to focus on his eyes, framed by wrinkles, instead of the intricate coils that lay behind them. "You go beyond those. This is your last day. Be free."
"I will, sir," Hinata said quickly, bowing her head with a polite smile. Her heart was fluttering like a hummingbird against her neck. "I promise."
"Good," Muramoto said, with a resolute nod. His eyes were lidded and flat again. He released her arm, and undid the straps with harsh, quick movements. The leather scraped against her skin.
"Get out."
Hinata jumped off the chair, and fled the room. She walked as fast as she could, without running, a buzzing at her spine that was almost unmanagable. Etsuki gave her a winning smile, the skin around her eyes crinkling.
The Skin Division girl began to sob.
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The oldest were men and women grown. The Division pins gleamed in the shallow morning sunlight. Hinata's hand crept up her chest and grasped at her own pin, a simple hexagon, as blue as the sky on a warm winter day. The kanji for Doujutsu was engraved deep into the metal.
She trailed a finger along the edges, over the worn scratches that the pin had attained, the slightest dents. She wondered if this was a time she was going to remember four, five, six years from now.
Hinata fished a few strands from her neck. The sky was overcast above her head, and bled white above the peaks of the mountains, but the air tasted sweet and warm. She rolled the stiff fabric of her uniform between her fingers, trailed cotton rings along her shirt.
"You look nervous."
The words rolled over her shoulder. Keiko stepped up beside her, a few wiry strands tossed into her eyes. Her sleeves were rolled up, and rested in the crooks of her elbows. Everything about her radiated indifference. Hinata tried her best not to think about her own clammy palms.
"O-only a bit," she said. Then swallowed, and thought about her speech lessons. About Haruhi-sensei, with bracelets of scratches, and one blind eye. "A big day, after all."
She snuck a glance at the rows of straightened bodies around her, and the silken pennants above the raised platform, chiseled out of the mountain the camp's terrain circled around. The pennants fluttered in the light breeze, the fabric softly folding.
Keiko leaned towards her. Her breath was hot and breezing against her neck. "Let's hope we get placed on the same team. Would be neat."
"Don't think so," Hinata said, while she watched how Keiko lifted a long-fingered hand, and tugged on the friendship bracelet on Hinata's wrist. A string of painted pebbles, yellow and faded, and coated with a layer of fine dust. "They w-wouldn't put two of the same Division on the same team."
Keiko shrugged. "I think we're great together."
Hinata could feel the blood rising towards her cheeks. She lifted her head and glanced at the throngs of bodies that had accumulated on the roofs of the barracks to watch the ceremony. A few Chakra Division boys with stringly lemon hair and crooked noses waved at the crowd from the nearest barrack.
"You're quite fearless, Hinata-chan," Keiko said, after a long moment of silence. She lifted her head towards the sky, and her eyes flicked in her eyesockets. Hinata clenched her hands at that, nails digging into her palms.
She was saved from replying, as the ceremony gong went off. All the voices stuttered to a sudden halt, and ebbed away, as the sound carried over the assembly.
Three jounin stepped onto the platform. Hinata recognized the headmedic Aoyama. He had come in during one of the taijutsu lessons once, and she knew his dark eyes to be cold and unfeeling. He carried a cane at his side, the top coated in metal and molded into the shape of a hawk.
The other jounin were just as easily recognizable. Mabui, the white-haired assistent of the Raikage - "The White Ghost," Keiko whispered into her ear, hand clutching Hinata's wrist and squeezing until the sting radiated through her entire arm – and the Jounin Commander, whose face was set in a perpetually displeased expression.
A trickle in her thumb. Her heart beating against her ribcage, as if it wanted to create bruises on her chest. The Raikage stepped up behind him. He had not donned his hat, but carried it in front of his stomach, as if it was something sacred.
"The future of this village," the Raikage said. His voice was deep and cultured, and it carried far. "Today is very special. Today is the day that yet another group of patients of Kumogakure's Institute of Research become our ninja. Protectors for everything Kumogakure stands for; our overwhelming strength and courage. Guardians of our secrets and actions. Shinobi."
He looked over the crowd, and for a moment, Hinata thought he looked straight at her. "When I call your number, you will receive your headband, and become an official member of our Shinobi forces. Do not disappoint us. This is a privilege. For Kumo you will fight."
A whisper in her ear – your loyalty will be to Kumo. The crowd began to chant; it started as a mere whisper in the back row, but it grew louder as it spread over the barracks, and the throngs of bodies. Keiko looked at her, eyes shadowed by her brown eyelashes, barely blinking. Her lips curved into a grin wide enough to hurt.
"For Kumo," Hinata said, and smiled back.
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Hinata felt oddly naked, as she navigated through the throngs of bodies, and the icy gazes of the guards, who stood by the doors, white-knuckled grips on their chokutos, flicked over her. The beam of the watchtowers rolled over the crowd.
Keiko squeezed her palm, and shot her a smile full of teeth. She tugged at the headband, a nail digging into her temple. "All girls," she said, and dampened her lips. "My sensei is said to be a tracking specialist."
"Combat, I t-think. Maybe sabotage." She didn't know for sure. She wished she had asked Etsuki-sensei, when she had come to visit their barrack. Keiko squeezed her hand, eyes dark with concern. Hinata sent her a weak smile, but Keiko's brows only furrowed together, so she suspected it came out more as a grimace.
Her team was waiting by the Main Gate. Two boys, both tall and broad, were holding up a sign with the number 133 on it. Their teacher, whose sharp-eyed, tilted face reminded Hinata of a hawk, was leaning against the wall behind them.
"Hey newbie! My name's Rin, and you're gonna remember it," the shortest boy barked at her. His orange, wiry hair stuck up like a crest at the back of his head, and the skin around his left eye was knotted together in large chunks of white scar tissue. The scars twisted and stretched, as his face relaxed into a parody of a smile.
He lifted a hand to shield his eyes from the blazing sun. "So you're the Konoha rat, eh?"
"My name is Hinata, patient number 133, Doujutsu Division." The words came out in a rush. She could feel her knees clank together, and had to dig her heels into the ground to keep herself standing. "Please, take care of me!"
She felt a rush of fear as she bowed, almost tripping over herself. Her hair tumbled like a waterfall over her face. The peal of laughter that followed, made her twitch.
When she straightened up again, the other boy was towering over her.
"Daisuke is the name," he said slowly. His voice was a low rumble, muffled by the thick fabric of his scarf. He ran a hand through his hair, fingers snagging on a loose knot. His eyes were a flimsy grey, and his gaze made her skin prickle. Hinata could feel the fear loosening its grip.
He tilted his head, lips curved into a lazy smile. "If we get demoted to D-ranks because of you, I'll make your life a living hell."
Hinata swallowed against the curl of saliva in her throat, and stole a look at her new teacher's face. He was watching their interaction very closely, as if he was contemplating what category to put her in. Whether she abided to the same rule as his other students, to see if she was something alien – something novel.
He met her gaze; his eyes were an indescernible color, stuck somewhere between green and hazel, and when the light hit them, they glittered up like a sunset.
Hinata clenched her hands. He seemed the type to sense and despise weakness, so she pushed her shoulders back and lifted her head, even though the shaking of her hands grew more prominent.
"I-I'll take care to avoid that then," she said, keeping her gaze on her new Sensei. She thought she saw his lips twitch.
He pushed himself off the wall, and leaned forward to place a hand on her shoulder. "Now that we're busy with introductions," he said slowly, skin around his eyes crinkling, "I'm Tsuyoi Tanaka, but you'll only refer to me as 'Sensei', if you want to live long enough to rise in rank."
He released her, and stepped back, elbowing the boys in their sides. Rin's face scrunched up, and she saw his fingers clench around his weapon pouch. Sensei's eyes glittered.
"Welcome to our team, Hinata."