Disclaimer: Naruto, and the wonderfully angsty Hyuuga clan, do not belong to me.
Hinata: One Who Stands in the Sun
Quiet footsteps on soft loam. White eyes scan the darkness nervously.
"Byakugan!"
A mouse, scurrying on the forest floor. A large horned owl winging soundlessly through the night. A grass snake slithering away through the underbrush. She sighs softly, and her shoulders relax, releasing tension she hadn't even known was there.
The hush of falling water, growing louder. The rustle of cloth.
The weapons' holster is the first to go. She lays it carefully on the bank, within easy reach. Hyuuga Hinata, seventeen-year-old jounin, knows better than anyone that no place is truly safe.
The rest of her clothes follow. She folds them neatly, her movements demure, still the proper Hyuuga heiress. Even now the routine is comforting. A quiet smile hides in the corners of her mouth as she lays them in a tidy pile and steps out onto the water.
She doesn't have to train naked. She just wants to.
Part I
An outstretched arm, a trailing hand. Her torso bends and her head tilts back, eyes fluttering shut. Reaching.
She dances for her sister, whose small shoulders knew the weight of responsibility too soon. For her courage and her fiery spirit, so unlike her own. Hinata prays it will not be broken.
--
She did not see her younger sister often. Hanabi, the favored child, was kept constantly busy by their father. Every day.
"Hanabi, shift your feet."
"Hanabi, mind your posture."
"Remember Hanabi, a good leader not only recognizes his enemies, he understands them."
"Hanabi! Block higher!"
"Did you complete your assignment, Hanabi?"
"Hanabi. Dismissed."
Hinata spoke with her father once a day, exactly the same time, exactly the same place.
"Hinata. Neji will be practicing soon. Prepare the tea."
"Hai."
Every time Hinata saw her sister she hated herself just a little bit more. If only she were stronger, faster, more powerful. If she were brave like Hanabi or talented like Hanabi maybe then Chichue would acknowledge her.
But she also saw the shadows beneath her sisters' eyes from nights of endless study, the bruises from training as her little sister forced her child's body beyond its limit time and time again.
Hanabi neither liked nor knew her sister. She had taken to addressing Hinata as their father did, cool indifference over barely-concealed disdain.
It hurt, but Hinata was fairly used to hurt.
She would have like to have hated her younger sister. It would have made her life much easier. But Hanabi was hurting as well. For Hinata, it was a bond deeper than blood.
One day, a little jar turned up on Hanabi's desk alongside a note.
Spread this on your wounds. It was unsigned. After the mandatory tests for poison and ninjutsu, Hanabi did as the note instructed. She found to her surprise that the ointment was effective, much more so than the clinical paste foisted on her by the compound healers.
Hanabi speculated on the identity of her benefactor many times. It had to be a ninja. Every time the jar ran out there would be a new one in its place the very next day, and Hanabi had never yet caught her benefactor in the act of swapping them out.
Part II
She twirls with deadly grace, toes pointed, arms lashing out. A small whirlpool forms at her feet. She spins faster, faster and the water darts higher, higher.
She dances for her father, for his straight back and proud Hyuuga eyes. For the cool phrases of approval so rarely bestowed. Hinata is terrified of disappointing him.
--
She was three, before her training had started, before she was a failure. The summer sun was warm and golden, and her small feet pattered through the dust of the outer courtyard.
"Chichue! Chichue!" she panted excitedly, impulsively tugging on his sleeve. Hiashi broke off his conversation with the two elders. They chuckled indulgently as he turned to greet his daughter with a small smile.
"Yes, Hinata?"
"Look, look!" she cried happily, holding her masterpiece in outstretched hands. Hiashi stared bemusedly at the mass of foliage in her chubby palms.
"Ah. What a lovely…" his imagination failed him. Little Hinata laughed.
"Silly Chichue! It's a flower chain. You wear it on your head." She pouted slightly. "I made it for you." Hiashi's eyes warmed.
"Of course," he said gravely, "How foolish of me." He knelt down, eye to eye with his daughter. He bent his head.
Hinata's eyes sparkled. Gleefully, she placed her treasure on her father's head. He looked her straight in the eyes.
"Arigatou, Hinata."
Some of the elders raised their eyebrows. The servants openly gawped. The Hyuuga women hid tiny smiles behind their sleeves. Hiashi ignored them all, conducting business as usual, the flower crown perching jauntily on his head for the rest of the day.
Hinata shivers as cold droplets hit her skin. The water streams from her hands, glittering ribbons that slice the night. Faster. More.
She was thirteen, and the sky was dark. She practiced her katas alone in the courtyard, the sweat pouring down her face. Her new form was challenging. It required so much flexibility and pinpoint chakra control. She spun and dipped, slashed and lunged, the chakra darting through her fingers, coursing through her veins.
"How long have you been practicing?" Hinata stumbled, all grace gone. Awkwardly, she spun around to face the voice. Across the courtyard Hiashi stood erect, his posture putting even the pillar beside him to shame.
"C-chichue," she whispered, hating herself for the stutter. She bowed low, retreating into formality. "Um, about three hours." She continued to stare at the ground, afraid to meet her father's eyes and the inevitable disappointment there. Her fists clenched the dark fabric of her pants and she braced herself for a rebuke.
"Good."
"Gomen na—what?"
"I will not repeat myself." Hiashi left as suddenly as he had come, with a stern parting glance in her direction. Hinata bows again, hiding the tiniest of smiles in her eyes.
Part III
Her feet cease to turn and her arms return docilely to her sides, leaving Hinata clothed in mist. She has reached the end of her kata.
It is not enough.
Suddenly, she sets off running across the surface of the lake, light and swift as an evening breeze, her footsteps mere ripples on the water.
She dances for her cousin, for a future full of choices unfettered by fate. For his anger and his pain and the hope that lingers in his eyes no matter how many times he attempts to crush it. Hinata wants to be his friend.
--
Twelve-year-old Hinata opened her eyes. White, everything was white. Slowly, painfully, she wet her lips with her tongue. She meant to ask Where am I?Instead, what came out was "Nygg."
No one answered, but Hinata heard the echo of precise footsteps coming closer. White jacket, three straps. Long dark hair, tied back in a low ponytail. Pale eyes, utterly inscrutable.
The memories came rushing back, disjointed and confused. The Chuunin Exams. One set matches. The ointment. Naruto-kun. Her battle. Pain. She had lost, lost the match and very nearly her life to—
"N-Neji-niisan," she croaked, her voice barely more than a whisper.
"It is best if you do not speak, Hinata-sama," he replied in clipped tones. "You are still recovering," he said, his voice showing the slightest waver at the last word. Hinata glanced at him, curious as to what could be bothering her normally implacable cousin. He stared back, his gaze becoming defiant, almost as if her were challenging her.
Dropping her gaze, Hinata nodded—then winced at the pain that lanced up through her neck. She gasped quietly, screwing her eyes closed, fighting the tears already prickling at their corners.
"I could have killed you."
Her gaze flew to her cousin. Neji stared out the window, seemingly unaware of her shocked stare. His voice was hollow, distant. He turned his head, meeting her gaze, and Hinata's eyes widened.
"I wanted to kill you," he said flatly. His eyes were bleak, his hands in fists as he stared down at her. Hinata was abruptly reminded how utterly defenseless she was, lying immobile on the narrow hospital cot. A chill ran down her spine. He noticed. He always did.
"Are you afraid of me, Hinata-sama?" he asked quietly. His voice was strangely vulnerable, and suddenly her powerful cousin looked so much younger.
He feels guilty. The thought came with startling clarity. Hinata felt a surge of compassion for her cousin, so proud and awkward.
He's like me.
Forcing her terror down, Hinata shook her head. She could see the skepticism and relief warring in his face before he turned it away.
"Hinata-sama is too trusting," he murmured. He seemed about to say something else when the sound of voices in the corridor interrupted him.
"—think she's alright?" A boy's voice, anxious, with a bit of growl to it. Kiba-kun.
"She has been taken care of by medic-nins, who have surely seen much worse." Another male voice, deeper, its tone measured. Shino-kun too.
Neji's mouth clicked shut, and he cast a glance at the door, a glance which, if Hinata had not known her cousin better, she would have said looked distinctly irritated.
"That Neji no yarou," Kiba's voice growled, "When I see him I'm gonna—" The door slid open. For a moment, everyone just stared. Hinata scanned the boys anxiously, her eyes darting from one to the next.
Neji stood rigidly beside the bed, his face masklike. Shino raised an eyebrow. Kiba's shoulders rose and his clawed hands curled into fists.
"What the hell are you doing here?" he snarled, taking a step forward. "Get away from her!" Neji did not even blink. He faced Hinata once more, purposefully turning his back on the enraged Inuzuka.
Neji bowed low.
"Hinata-sama." Then, without so much as a glance at the other two, he left, the door sliding closed behind him.
--
She leaps, forgetting to be calm, abandoning her control, laughing as she hits the surface of the water with a loud splash. Little Hinata is free again.
She cries, slashing at the water, dodging, ripping, striking as thirteen-year-old Hinata shakes with suppressed fear and rage.
She spins, round and round, as fifteen-year-old Hinata tries to reach out, to understand her sister's hostility, her father's expectations, her cousin's ambivalence.
Then she dives down, deep into the very heart of the lake.
"Who the hell cares about fate?!"
"Wow, this stuff is great!"
"Hinata, kick his ass!"
"—you're the kind of weird person I like."
"Hinata, do you have a fever? Your face is all red."
"I will never give up! That is my way of the ninja!"
And Hinata, whole Hinata, begins kicking towards the surface.
Eventually she reaches the shore once more. She dresses quickly—she will have to hurry if she wants to make it back to the compound by dawn. She darts through the forest, running along the branches in the ninja way. Then the trees are gone and she is racing across the rooftops of the sleeping village, silent as a shadow. She drops noiselessly to the ground, then lets herself in through the little back gate.
And then the sun comes up.
Hinata pauses. The sweet damp smell of herbs wafts over from her small garden, the first pale rays of the sun illuminating the strong, young sprouts. The warm beams slide across the walls of the compound, suffusing the white rice paper and brown pine timbers with a golden glow. Somewhere behind the walls the sun is shining on the slumbering bodies of her sister, father and cousin. Imperfect, painful, precious, hers.
I'm home.
Smiling, Hinata steps forward into the light.
Owari
Author's Note: Japanese Words
Jounin: ninja ranking, comes after Chuunin; a ninja able to go on A-class missions
Arigatou: thank you
Chichue: father
Hai: yes
Gomen nasai: I am very sorry
Kata: choreographed practice of a martial arts form, like the steps of a dance
Yarou: bastard