a/n: Alrighty, I know what you're thinking...finish your other stories before you start a new one. This one will be short I promise! And Hinata-centric and I'm going to be selfish because I really, really like this AU and a friend on tumblr encouraged me. :) If it helps, I have another chapter of Reluctant in the works, so hold on SeriousSam!
Chapter 1: Paths Cross and So Do Swords
The clang of metal and against metal rings true on the heels of the rising sun. It's quick and piercing, the steely screeching of swords sliding past each other, and attacks parried in succession is deafening, and yet she manages to raise her quiet voice loud enough for him to hear past it.
"Where is Hanabi?!"
She shouts it to the heavens, her previously ghostly eyes shine with something akin to starlight and he finds that he enjoys the color more now. They're the same gray as the sky before sunrise...a silver on the precipice of brightness.
But for the life of him, he cannot imagine what sort of anger has given this tiny girl the strength to keep up with her assault.
Her question confuses him to no end, because he is simply a wandering samurai. Simply a traveling, masterless ronin who had stumbled into these lands at the absolute wrong time.
He had expected an ordinary welcome. Perhaps the call of a few merchants to check out their wares, a nearby teahouse advertising that it had the best tea in all the Western front, a few cute village girls to fawn over his tales, and maybe a night spent in an old rickety inn.
Instead he had arrived the evening before, only to find the locals in an uproar. Troops of samurai with a red flame emblazoned onto the overlapping plates of their laquered armor marched in unison across town and about the surrounding areas.
He had decided that sleeping in the forest would be preferable to getting caught up in whatever mess was brewing. He didn't like the look of these foot soldiers, swords in hand, and grim faces with creepy white eyes.
Eyes exactly like the ones burning into him at this very moment, daring him to deny her accusations.
She is tiny. She is slim and pale and looks as if a good wind could blow her in one puff to the seas beyond.
But she snarls like a lioness, and the swish of her robes and the clinking of her armor lend themselves to her ferocity. She is quick where is he slow, and knows how to follow through with his blow well enough to turn the force back on him.
He does not answer her, partly in confusion, partly in awe of her skill, and mostly because it's the crack of dawn and he was woken up by a small little swordswoman with sunflowers on her sleeves.
Her wakizashi had been drawn, gleaming dimly in the waxing sunlight, sharp point positioned right below his chin.
She had asked the same question. And then without warning pounced on him when she noticed his hand straying towards his own blade.
They crossed paths...crossed swords before either could blink, and the fight had begun as the morning dew had evaporated.
"Where. Is. My. Sister?!"
Each word is punctuated by another thrust, another push, another clang.
His blue eyes widen in understanding, and there is pity in his gaze because he knows all too well what it's like to lose someone of kin. But he cannot let down his guard just yet...cannot charm his way out of this one because something tells him that she is too angry and too driven to do much but fight.
And he does not take her accusation lightly.
"I don't know anything about that!"
He weaves and dodges, because as skilled as she is, he knows her blows aren't meant to kill and her emotion will make her misjudge sometime soon. He simply has to find the right opening.
She grunts in dissatisfaction, not happy enough with the answer he has given her. And he can't blame her because her hurt seems fresh.
"WHERE. IS MY SISTER?!"
Her blows become crazed, a little disoriented, but to his ever increasing disappointment, she is much more talented than he had thought. She dances with passion and fury, her dark hair fans out behind her with each stroke given and each blow thrown.
He needs a distraction. He needs to throw her off balance.
So he smiles as he moves his sword in a wide arc, his katana's farther reach forcing her to take a few steps back.
He smiles a grin he knows is sunny and charming and shouts over the din of their weapons.
"HELLO! MY NAME IS UZUMAKI NARUTO!"
She falters, her mouth pops open in shock and it is enough for him to sneak past her outstretched arm, until he is close enough to see the tear tracks and the dirt that told of a long night spent in vain.
He is close enough to knock her blade from her hand, and close enough to hear the soft sigh of dismay from her pretty lips because she has lost more than this fight and she looks like she is drowning.
The beautifully crafted wakizashi falls to the earth with a sad, defeated clatter.
It looks pitifully dull now that it is no longer catching the light, and Naruto is a bit sad to see its song silenced, but it seems to echo the despair in her downward gaze.
With a grudging sigh, a borrowed 'troublesome' muttered under his breath, he sheathes his sword with a flourish and sweep of his orange sleeves.
The color is eye-catching with his movement and she blinks as if she has been staring at the sun for too long and because she was expecting a death blow, not this kind of mercy.
And ire wells up in her chest and claws at her insecurities because she refuses to be pitied for her loss, for her gender, and for her size. She is not one to be trifled with and not one who fears death, but there is also determination blazing in her heart.
A will to seek that which she deems most precious. Until then, she cannot die, and she silently thanks the heavens for this unwelcome blessing.
"You will not end me?"
The question is quiet and she chides herself for looking a gift horse so brazenly in the mouth, especially one that has just given her a reprieve on life, even if she was not aiming to end his.
He seems startled by the question and a little offended too.
She thinks confusion looks better on his face than that smile he had given her earlier.
It's more genuine.
"I-I wasn't trying to kill you...You..you started it."
And she resists the urge to roll her eyes because she hears his pout in the complaint and can see his lips pursed in malcontent, looking like a petulant child caught in the act.
She starts to laugh at that. She laughs and laughs until he wonders if she's just a little lost in her thoughts or if he's just met a crazed spirit at the crack of dawn.
The tears roll down her cheeks because ever since last night, she has been searching and feeling useless and a life that has been nothing but a greedy thief has once again stolen something from her.
She is a roiling, dancing, angry mess and her laughter devolves into sobs that she has never in her life allowed to break free.
It's only when, through her blurred sight, she sees his tanned fingers reaching for the hilt of her fallen sword, that she snaps out of it. She prepares herself.
Just in case…
Is something she has learned, and when she tenses and falls back a subtle distance, he glance up at her in grudging admiration.
Slowly and making sure to have his movement be non-threatening, he hands her the sword, hilt towards her, blade towards him so she understands.
It's a peace offering, and she wonders at his kindness when she accused him blindly and angrily.
With shaking hands and bruised fingers, she closes her grip around the top of the hilt, just above his own hand.
He lets it go, a little bit of a hesitancy and appeasement in his manner, because he's never been good with crying people.
She gives him a watery, grateful smile and quickly slides the blade with a melodic swish into its pretty scabbard, the white silk wrapped around the hilt perfectly matching the silver engravings on the wood.
'A noble?' He thinks to himself, and realizes with red embarrassment how rude he must have seemed to introduce himself earlier by shouting.
"I-I was so rude. I'm sorry."
And then she is bowing, lower than her fine robes, intricate armor, or pretty sword, would indicate she should.
Because he is simply a ronin and there isn't much more to his name than that.
He flushes at the protocol and babbles and waves away the politeness as best he can, because when she is not a roaring lioness, she is a princess with all the regal bearing expected in one such as her and she really looks cute when she's not shouting and oh dear lord…
He knows he's in deep trouble when she rises and smiles like sunbeams drifting through leaves, gentle and sad.
"H-hello. My name is Hyuuga Hinata...I'm sorry for trying to hurt you. Please let me make it up to you, somehow!"
It's in a small tea stop two miles down the road from the village, over tea and small, sweet cakes filled with red bean that he learns her story.
At least that which is relevant to her near crazy attack on him and anyone who had appeared suspicious around the village.
"I think the kidnapper is traveling north, and I don't have many leads, only that the kidnapper had three stripes on each cheek...like yours."
She stares down at the half-eaten pastry in her hand. She's barely touched it and he's nearly finished the whole plate, but she doesn't seem to notice.
"Wha-...I mean tha's prutty wurd…" He says around a mouthful, because he is hungry and he is tired and she is rich, so he will take eat what has been gifted to him and she owes him that much.
(And if he was a little more honest with himself, it's because he wanted to spend more time with the pretty girl who can wield a sword better than most men he has encountered.)
"E-excuse me?"
He swallows quickly, thumping his chest when the food gets stuck and he burn his throat trying to wash it down with burning hot tea.
"Oh dear! Are you okay?!" She asks in between gentle thumps to his broad back, and he is choking on crumbs and embarrassment.
"Arggh... ghhh...I-I'm o-kay…" He wheezes, and finally calms down enough to continue intelligible conversation.
"I meant to say...That's pretty weird. I don't know anyone else that has these."
He points with his thumb to his whiskers, a somewhat proud look crossing his face and making his blue eyes shine like sky.
She thinks it fits even better than confusion. But she is disheartened, because her lead has turned out to be a dead end...a handsome dead end who didn't kill her when he had the right to...but a dead end nonetheless.
"Oh.." Is her disappointed reply and a heart weary sigh escapes, traveling with the shudders that rack her body in the wake of her earlier sobs.
And again, he borrows a friend's habit and mutters 'troublesome' because he has own mission to accomplish and he can't get up in local squabbles, but his better nature is telling him to help.
"I can't help you find her...But…"
He pauses for dramatic effect, and finds it useless because her gaze sparks with hope and she is sitting straight on the edge of the bench outside the tea stop and the very flowers embroidered onto her robes seem to be blooming with her.
"Aaaah….I mean I know someone that can h-help."
And he gulps with trepidation and his heart is in his throat because she has clasped her hands around his and her expression is bright and her lips are mouthing thank you, thank you, thank you and he really needs to leave before he is even more trouble.
So he does. He hands her a small piece of parchment, crinkled and smudged with red bean, but it has a name and a hope and a chance to find her sister.
She watches his back grow smaller and smaller down the left fork of the road and her heavy heart is grateful because her dead end had ended being crossed path, and a new start to finding Hanabi.
When he's disappeared into the blazing sun and she's pushed aside any feelings of sadness for his departure, she glances once more at the name on the paper.
"Inuzuka Kiba"
She makes sure her scabbard is firmly adjusted once more, smooth down her sleeves and makes sure her armor is free of crumbs before leaving with a kindly farewell to the owner of the tea house.
And she heads down right fork of the road, gripping the sheet of paper in one hand and the silk red camellia she had given to Hanabi for a birthday many years ago.
They're all she has left.
Wakizashi: a blade between 30 and 60 cm, typically worn as a companion sword along with the longer Katana. To wear both is the sign of a samurai, however Hinata is not a full fledged samurai, but rather more of a body guard.
Ronin: A masterless samurai who is so because of a master's death or disapproval.
