Author's Note: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO HYUGA NEJI!! -sparkles and glitters- I was originally going to post this as a one-shot...but it's far longer than I'm used to in terms of one-shots, and I really wanted to have this posted for Neji's birthday...and seeing as I'm typing this at 11 o'clock at night on July 3rd, I'm spliting this up into parts and posting as I get the other chapters done. I know I'd rather read a carefully checked fic then one that's been rushed to make a one hour deadline...
Oh, and for those of you who have the time, please go onto my profile and vote for your favourite pairing!
Disclaimer: I, in no way, own Naruto. If I, for some strange reason did, d'you honestly think that NejiTen wouldn't be canon yet?
Bittersweet Tragedies
byakuxhisa4eva
The sun shone brightly over the village of Konoha that day, the sky a cloudless blue and the people of Konoha, shinobi and civilian alike, took advantage of this strangely peaceful day to relax. Children chased each other in the dusty streets, playing tag and rolling around in the joyous way only children can, and small kids clung to their mothers' skirts as they stared in wonder that the bright and colorful things the marketplace had to offer.
Two green blurs could be seen dashing valiantly around the village walls, sprouting off sentences about Youth and Spring and oh-what-a-wonderfully-youthful-day-this-is as a masked jonin watched both of them from atop the Hokage monument, with an expression that clearly questioned their sanity and energy-source, before returning his attention to the little orange book in his hands.
Uchiha Sasuke and his pink-haired wife could be seen strolling down the park trail in Konoha's village park, pleased to have some time to themselves after leaving their young son with their old teammate over at the Hokage mansion.
The cheerful, relaxed atmosphere of the rest of Konoha didn't quite have seemed to extend over the secluded Hyuga compound where the young Hyuga heir was relentlessly dodging and returning his fathers' attacks in an intense exchange of chakra-filled punches and blows.
"Faster, faster, move your feet – quickly –"
Cold, white eyes, accentuated by bulging, chakra-filled veins, stared scrutinizing the heaving figure in front of him.
"Your footwork is too slow. It could be better."
Hizashi lifted his gaze from the dusty ground, his grip on his knees tightening every so slightly.
"Yes, Father,"
"Your strikes are not accurate enough. They need to be quicker, harder,"
The young Hyuga bit his lip, ducking his head at his father's steely glare.
"Of course, Father,"
"I am disappointed in you, Hizashi. It seems your blood does not run through your veins as strong as I expected,"
"I'm sorry, Father,"
"Stand up straighter, Hizashi,"
Despite his tiredness, he did as he was told, finally locking stares with the refined Hyuga head.
"You are dismissed,"
Hizashi bowed, deep, as was expected, to the greatest Head of Hyuga in centuries since it's founding, and turned, preparing to exit through the doorway, not wanting to be subject to further criticism.
"Hizashi,"
The cold voice cut through the humid afternoon air like a kunai in the heat of battle, and just as effectively stopping him in his tracks. He pivoted on his heel and turned to face what was inevitably another criticizing remark.
Battle-worn hands gripped the ancient walking stick tighter, and a mouth opened, and closed, as if rethinking a remark in one's mind. A hint of hesitation flashed through usually emotionless eyes, before a stern voice said,
"Dinner will be an hour late today. Don't be late,"
His eyes widening in shock for a brief second, Hizashi blinked, before, once again, bowing low, and replying in simple tones,
"Of course,"
"Then you are dismissed."
Hyuga Hizashi strolled mindlessly through the busy streets, his mind wandering just as aimlessly through the depths of his head. He waved a greeting to Iruka-sensei, who after all these years was still teaching at the Academy, and paused at the Yamanaka flower shop to admire the bright yellow daffodils Sakura-san was so fond of, and the blood-red roses that left a lingering sense of longing in the air.
Selecting a bunch of pale pink roses and baby's' breath he knew to be her favourite, his eyes widened for a fraction of a second at seeing a familiar mane of black-blue hair purchasing a very similar bunch of roses as the ones he held in his hand.
"Hinata-nee-san!"
"Hmmm? Oh, Hizashi-kun!"
Warm white eyes, so unlike those of his father, smiled comfortingly at him, as a delicate hand reached down to pat his dark locks of hair. Uzumaki Hinata smiled kindly down at her ten-year-old nephew, taking note his slightly tussled appearance, the dirt smeared on his face, and safely concluded that he had just finished whatever rigorous training session his father had planned for him that day.
Quickly handing over a couple notes to the cashier behind the counter, indicating she'd be paying for both bunches of flowers, her and her unexpected companion's, Hinata smiled and escorted both of them out the door, the shops' door chimes tinkling merrily behind them.
Hizashi silently gazed at the bundle of flowers he carefully cradled in his hands, eyes suddenly flooding full of images and visions he shouldn't be able to recall in the detail he did.
Hinata watched the young boys' expression change from a light, carefree one to one of a child that seemed to have experienced far more pain and suffering than one of his age should have. A thin string tugged at her heart as milky white gazes turned toward the now setting sun, and all they could both see were brilliant blends of rose, violet and the golden yellow that she had loved so much, illuminating the emptying street in a golden glow.
The silence only seemed to grow louder, and their minds were slowly being pulled into a whirlpool of memories neither of them wanted to forget.
"You miss her, don't you, Hizashi-kun?"
Said boy was pulled out of his thoughts at the sound of his aunt's soft voice, startled, before looking high up at the heaven that held so many of those the people of Konoha held dear. Sparing his aunt a brief glance, her eyes gazing wistfully at the sky, like he had been doing only moments ago, he tried to sharpen the edges of a photo that was slowly, in his mind's eye, fading into a blurred image that had yet to completely erased.
He'd have to look at the photo frame again, when he went home.
"Hizashi-kun?"
Reminded of presence beside him, Hizashi couldn't help but idly wonder, if she had been just as lost as he had.
"Yes. I suppose. I know I shouldn't have any memory of her, as I was barely alive in his world for a few moments before she had gone, but the photos in Father's room only serve to recreate memories I can never have."
Again, that fading memory, and Hizashi willed his head to try harder to sharpen those smudged edges.
"I've never really envied those children who have mothers to hold them at night, and to bring them to school in the morning, but at times...I can't help but wonder what my life would have been like if she had never died."
Hinata looked quietly over her young relation, blinking and shaking her head. For a moment, she had caught a glimpse of a cold, quiet child that had been bound at an early age of the cruel fate of those born into a life already decided.
"Do you resent her for not being here?"
The young Hyuga seemed to hesitate, a flicker of discomfort at answering a questions he had never really thought about.
"No," he answered slowly, stretching the silence that then came after, " But sometimes I wish more than anything that she were still here...and maybe then, I'd know what it'd feel like to have...a family,"
Hinata looked slightly amused at this, but answered accordingly, despite knowing the hidden meaning behind his words.
"You have the entire Hyuga clan, Hizashi-kun, and all your uncles and aunts, that would be more than proud to call you their family,"
"They're proud because I'm powerful, because I'm useful to them, and can bring their so-called honour to the clan. Once I'm of no use, they'll care no more for me than a rich man cares for a silken cloth that has already been used,"
Sad eyes closed at this vocalization of a thought that they both knew was true, despite changes that had slowly occurred over the years.
"...I want a family that loves me,"
"Your father loves you very much, Hizashi-kun,"
Hizashi snorted, his upper lip curled into a sneer, one that shouldn't be seen on such a young child.
"No offence, Hinata-nee-san, but my father cares about me no more than I care about what others think about me. He acts as if I am nothing but a burden to him, a disgrace to the family," he spat out bitterly, "In his eyes, I'll never be good enough to deserve even the slightest bit of respect or acknowledgement, never good enough to be what he was,"
Hinata paused in her walking, putting a gentle hand on the young boy's shoulder, efficiently stopping his bitter rant. In a voice that he had never heard his aunt use expect when she was being most serious, quiet, yet with the authority that commanded proper respect, she told him:
"You should never doubt that your father loves you, Hizashi. Very much, much more than anyone else in this world,"
"Don't be ridiculous," His tone was mocking and bitter, "I am of no worth to him. I do not believe he is even capable of love."
"And yet you are still here, you exist in this world, a child born of a union of two people who had every different status' in society's' view of the world," she told him, back to her quiet tone, "Your father loved your mother very much, and despite what the elders thought, married her because he loved her,"
Hizashi clenched his jaw tightly, not wanting to warp his head about a false hope that his father, his cold, calculating father, actually held the ability to care about someone as more than a tool to be used when necessary, not to be thrown away when dull, like a shinobi does to a kunai when it is blunt beyond resharpening.
"Your father wasn't always like this, you know," Hinata smiled at the look of disbelief in her nephews' eyes at the comment, "he has lived a life filled with bitterness and sorrow, of very little worth, even during most of this childhood, until..."
"Until...?" Hizashi questioned.
"He met her. He met your mother." Hinata giggled lightly at the thought. "Of course, he wasn't taken with her straight away, he's just not that kind of person. But over the course of many years, she slowly managed to 'melt the ice' around his heart. Of course, that eventually led to things your ears shouldn't hear about for several years to come,"
Hizashi blanched, knowing exactly what she was talking about. You just don't spend that much time around Uncle Naruto and not know what it meant.
Hinata's happy facade suddenly dropped, and Hizashi could tell that her current train of thought was a string of painful memories, ones that were better left to dwell at the back of the mind, to exist, but be forgotten.
"Then it happened." Hinata said abruptly, "The incident that changed his life, and made him the bitter person he is today,"
The knot twisting in his stomach only turned more tightly, and without knowing why, he felt the invisible hand he never noticed was there, clench the grip around his heart a little harder.
"Your mother was sacrificed for the good of the village."
And so the wheels of fate begin to turn into the past, and history's carefully forgotten mistakes begin to repeat themselves.
