Author's Note: This chapter has been rewritten. If you read the original version, this first scene will be familiar to you. (Feel free to skip down, because I didn't change the first scene).
Hidden From Sunlight
Chapter One: Fireworks
The snow crunched beneath her feet. Her hair felt like metal silk as it stuck to her lips and cheeks.
Skeletal, snow-kissed trees stood tall like soldiers, their branches wreathed overhead in salute.
There beyond the path was the Ninja Academy. There she would begin formal training in the coming weeks.
Hyuuga Hanabi, five years old, came to a stop. Her gaze held over the back of a small boy, sitting on a lone rope swing. He wore a tan jacket, with dull oranges sleeves, a red scarf and a green headband. He was blonde - the only blonde of his kind in the entire village. A smaller child could draw a big, old sun, and it would probably look just like the back of his head.
He wasn't kicking, though, there on that little swing.
He was just... sitting there.
The silence quickly burned away, overtaken by the rising crackle of fierce footsteps.
Hanabi's eyes narrowed as her stalkers gathered around her, blocking off her view of the academy.
"You think you're too good for us, huh?" Said the taller boy with the black hair.
"Hyuuga's are all snobs. Just like you," The middle boy in the red cap bent forward, hands on his hips and sneering. He was missing a tooth. "Man, those eyes are creepy. Are you a monster?"
"Ha! A monster! You're a monster!" said the taller one.
The fat boy to the right snapped noisily at his bubble gum, half parts smug and indifferent.
Hanabi's gaze slid over them one by one, left to right, and right to left. Her gaze slid further left, connecting with a pair of tense blue eyes in the distance. Internally jerking at her mistake, she corrected herself and looked away, disregarding his presence and the fact that it was goggles - not a headband - that he wore.
A 'monster.' 'Creepy eyes.' Hanabi almost wanted to smile.
"Do you have something against monsters?" She cocked her head to the side, that rebellious strand of hair falling across her right eye.
Their smirks dropped off their faces. The middle boy scoffed, baring his teeth. He strode up to her and grabbed her by the scarf. He lifted her till only the tips of her shoes reached the snow.
"You're s'pposed to cry, tiny."
"Like this?" She contorted her face in such a way that she looked like a koi fish in despair. She reset her features immediately, taking considerable pleasure in his dumb snarl.
He cocked back a fist. "I'll get you to cry for real!"
"Whoa, hey! That's going too far!" cried the taller one.
Hanabi spun free from her scarf, his fist meeting cold air. She staggered her feet, palms out, and she shot forward. No chakra. He flew five feet. Landed on his back. His flunkies double-taked, shocked. Still shocked. Then finally vengeance set in, their fists cocked and battle cries rising up like startled blackbirds.
She dipped away from the taller one's fist, her hands shot out and gripped his wrist. She twisted and threw him to the ground. With a spin of her heel, she stabbed her tiny fist into the fatty's stomach. His gnarled wad of gum flew with a wheeze. He grasped his middle and collapsed on his side.
No chakra. Only precision.
Hanabi straightened from her stance, pushing her hair from her face. She stalked towards the cap boy, and snatched her scarf from his limp hand. Securing it around her neck, she looked up.
That goggles boy had left the swing. He stood frozen in mid-sprint, and when it seemed the lads weren't getting back up, his shoulders dropped as did his fists.
Hanabi went back to tucking the ends of her scarf inside her coat.
When she was done, she looked up. But not at him.
She walked a straight line towards the academy, her mind freshening like the snow, all bright and fluffy. Thoughts of her future, of becoming the woman she envisioned to be, who her clansmen and her father believed her to be - nothing lifted her spirits higher and kept her buoying more than their utter esteem.
Nothing more except perhaps...
She was a big sister now! Not just the heiress of her clan! A big sister!
At first Hinata had come out silent and goopy, her skin had been blotted and almost purple like a bruise. But now she was the color of fresh milk and she definitely looked human. A little, tiny human that could fit in both of their father's big two hands.
Hanabi was curled up against her mother's side, watching as Hinata slept. They said she'd be asleep for good, long while. It sure felt that way. She hadn't seen Hinata awake since yesterday.
"When was she last awake?"
Hitsuna hummed. "I fed her two hours ago."
"I missed it!" She whisper-exclaimed, careful not to wake the newborn. Hitsuna giggled and stroked her hair. The sun's rays through the window on her back, her mother's silken honey humming, and her loving touch; It was nearly enough to put Hanabi to sleep, too.
But she hated the dark. She hated what happened when her eyes closed. She'd see his face in her bedroom before he took her. She'd hear his muffled screams in the blanketed dark of their dojo, and remember the way his chakra pathways looked like blue fireflies blinking out of existence.
Her father made her do it. It was for her own good. And he wasn't wrong. He hasn't been wrong yet. Because fear is a choice.
Hanabi caressed the edge of Hinata's buttery soft skin with her fingertip, her chest aching just a bit.
"I won't let anyone take you," It's a promise, so she whispers. "I'll always protect you."
Hanabi's old enough to learn the chosen style of her people: Hyūga-ryū: Jūken.
A perfect, white circle has been painted in the center of the dojo. She stands on the line and is instructed in the footwork.
Put all your weight onto your back leg.
Relax the forward leg as you extend it out.
Then grab the ground with that foot.
Pull yourself forward, relaxing the other leg.
Now extend that one. Grab the ground. And repeat.
She does this around the circle.
She's instructed to do it a hundred times more. She must become like the ancient red cedars that sews its roots into the soil.
A hundred times more.
Hiashi approaches her side. He pushes her to the ground.
"Get up, Hanabi."
At home she is sparkling, brilliant, vibrant. Full of smiles.
But not here.
Here is just an extension of the family dojo.
It seems like only one other person shares her mentality towards ninja training, and that's fellow noble clan member Uchiha Sasuke.
Maybe he's full of smiles back home, who knows. It doesn't seem like the twenty little girl smiles that constantly shine at him will ever be reciprocated a smile in turn.
They're trained in several drills and exercises. One in particular is a combination of a long-distance race and 'Capture the Flag'. Someone finds the item during their route, and they must keep it to the very end.
They had to change the rules a few times, seeing how she was the only one who had an activated dojutsu, and always ended up finding the item first. She was also faster than most, even for her size, and when Sasuke would try to grab it, she still outsmarted him thanks to her one advantage.
Some other exercises included training in subterfuge, nurturing one's wit, and deductive reasoning. 'A shinobi must see the hidden meanings within the hidden meanings.' An implicit rule that seems to have been passed on but never officially added to the Shinobi Rules.
This game was also quite fun for her cheeky, six-year old brain. (Her dojutsu was definitely banned).
Everyone had to stand in a circle. One person was told to lie. Another person was told a lie. And the third person was to remain silent. Winning meant finding the person keeping guard of the item.
The liar would subvert the group or individual's belief, (the worst liars often contradicted themselves all too quickly). The mislead one would be so convinced of their 'truth' that others would get swayed to believe them. The silent one was often targeted after much bickering but without proving they had the item, the silent one would not confirm it.
Hanabi knew better, as she would tune out the noise and focus on her surroundings. She considered rallying the class to shut up and take her lead, but she didn't want to undermine the lesson, nor Iruka-sensei.
As usual, only she and Sasuke owned at the game. Shino would too, she believed, if only he wasn't the automatically designated 'silent one'.
Accuracy tests with shuriken and kunai were another set of drills, so was chakra meditation. Then there were the written tests; History, Geography, Human Anatomy and Medicine, Known forms of simple Cryptography, and scenario puzzles such as 'How would you scale this? And how would you sneak in? And how would you escape?'.
Such contingent thinking only hammered itself deeper into her mind, that by the time she turned eight, Hanabi had come up with five-hundred possible destinies for her little sister.
Hanabi sat on the small wooden steps that lead down to the kitchen. A delicious combination of sweetened dough, butter and cinnamon filled the space. She watched her mother work the kamado, a white ceramic cooking range fueled by charcoal.
Natsu carried Hinata in her arms, bouncing the toddler gently. "What is this again?"
"It's my own take. I only ever had this pastry once as a small girl. The daimyo gifted us three bundles of cinnamon sticks from his personal estate as thanks, and I remembered that I had smelled this before," Several minutes passed by when Hitsuna opened the left hatch, releasing an almighty aroma that had Hanabi's stomach growling. "Alright, let's see if I made this correctly."
When Hitsuna removed the tray and placed it over the stove, everyone inched forward to inspect her creation.
They resembled roasted moon shells, but retained the bloated shape of fresh baked melonpan. The lining of the swirl was amber red and glittering with blackened cinnamon.
"They're cute. They smell wonderful." Natsu said.
Hitsuna, however, was her biggest critic. "These don't look anything like how I remember. Maybe they were more like auger shells…"
An awkward expression sat on Natsu's face as she held her tongue. Hanabi knew too: Augers and Moons were two completely different shapes.
"How many sticks you have left?" Hanabi asked.
Hitsuna's eyes lit up with determination. "Fifty-five. I shall attempt this eleven times more."
Hanabi glanced at Hinata. Their eyes connected and Hanabi shook her head.
If their dearest, brilliant mother was not meant to be a baker, then perhaps the cards were not in Hinata's favor either.
They're at the age now where supervised combat training becomes the main focus of their lessons.
The class is standing outside the school in long, open clearing. Everyone is standing in a line facing the sparring circle, with their sensei as the referee.
An even foundation of defensive and offensive skill is emphasized, but beyond their Sensei's coaching, they've pretty much just graduated to the School of Hard Knocks; fight, fight, fight until you win. Learn from your losses and do it again.
Rather hands off compared to what they were doing before.
But it underscored the same takeaway in those lessons: Fostering individual capability and competency.
After all, why get put on team if you're just dead weight?
That's what Hanabi thought whenever she saw the same person get hurled to the ground.
That blonde boy grumbled harshly beneath his breath as he pushed himself to his feet. He usually came into class looking rather grubby, but now he wore the dust and dirt of the ground like it'd always been a part of him. A half-hearted Seal of Reconciliation, and trudged back in place amongst the students, rubbing his sore behind the whole way.
Iruka announced the next spar. "Sasuke, step forth."
Like a shadow peeling itself off of a wall, Sasuke sauntered over to the line, his hands stuffed in his pockets. His fangirls squealed and cheered. They'd become more smitten with him, their admiration heightened with fervor.
There was a time last year when he was absent from class. She didn't know why until she heard it from her father. When he had come back, he was like a shadow. Distant and enigmatic, as if being in the light was a lie he had been freed from.
"Hanabi, step forth."
The cheers stuttered and fell away into confused mutterings. Oh, did they think this was unfair or something?
Hanabi embraced the sunlight as she stood on the line opposite of Sasuke.
She felt into stance, feet staggered, her soles rooted to the ground. She formed a semi-circle with her arms, like the ferocious jaws of a lion; 'Come at me' her body said loud and clear.
Sasuke took his fists out of his pockets and raised them.
His eyes weren't the same.
She used to be his peer. His rival, even if it was mainly by her own instigation. But now he couldn't see her, not like before.
That was fine. But if he was going to treat this fight like it was nothing, she was going to make sure he tasted dirt.
"Begin!"
Hanabi didn't rush forward. She shuffled along the ground, circling him like a predator did its prey.
He stood still, his head following her movements.
She kicked at the dirt and dust blew up in his face.
The girls squealed in despair.
Hanabi launched forth, the back of her wrist aimed for his side.
He grabbed her wrist and threw her. Hanabi skidded short of her line, one hand planted against the dirt, the other fisted at her side.
She launched again.
He swung at her.
She dipped aside.
He kept swinging, and she kept bending like a willow in the storm.
She circled at the waist, from being bent backward, now crouching forward. His fist slipped past her head. She slid up like a snake, and thrusted her palm at his shoulder.
Sasuke stumbled forward.
Hanabi stared him down. She flipped her hair behind her shoulder.
"Don't tell me you don't hit girls, Uchiha. Or maybe you don't want me finding out…" She trailed off for suspense, taking note of the intensity burning beneath his soured features. "Your fists are soft, aren't they?"
Iruka-sensei stepped forward. "Now hold on-"
"Shall I call you 'Baby Hands'?"
"Hanabi-sama!" Iruka scolded. The girls, however, who would normally boo were not.
The smolder behind his eyes flared to life.
Hanabi was polite to a fault. That was how she was raised. But she was also raised to perceive, exploit and lead.
If The Will of Fire had been extinguished from him, she would see to it that it rage back to life.
Or that he himself be extinguished.
He charged at her.
She blocked. She redirected. She spun away, hands up like poised claws.
And he was at her again, a series of kicks and strikes.
Then it happened.
She read his leg sweep and jumped up, but not quick enough. Like a grasshopper, his retracted leg sprang out, his heel like a hammer to her chin.
She flew back, the ground slammed against her back and her lungs seized for a second. She rolled over onto her hands and knees. Her neck ached as her head was forced back.
The girls shrieked, their hands clasping down over their own growing locks.
Hanabi winced against the glaring sun.
Iruka was yelling.
And the grip on her hair was released and she sank down. Glancing over her shoulder, she watched as Iruka dragged Sasuke away by his arm.
She got him in trouble.
She didn't mean for that to happen.
Well, maybe she shouldn't look at it like that.
Hanabi stood up and dusted herself off. She looked at her knees, at her elbows. Her bright red blood was oozing through the dirt caked in her abrasions.
This was fine, too.
The things that hurt were the things she best remembered.
Everyone be warned: Exercise caution when playing with fireworks.