Disclaimer: Naruto not mine. Kishimoto's. (Sorry. Sleepy. Again.)
Tatters We Let - 2nd Fragment - simplicity
21:55 092106
In one of the last holdfast of night, Hinata awakened to the faint glimmer of the coming dawn. Because her grasp on sleep has already softened to a tenuous hovering by this time, she was wont to awaken to the slightest sensations, this morning, to the bedevilment of winter air on a wandering foot. She withdrew the appendage into the heavy warmth of the comforter, encountering in the process another wayward leg. Its owner flinched from the iciness of her toes, then shifted to engulf her in a wave of arms, legs, a good size of torso. . . Even in his sleep, Naruto was attentive to her needs in a hundred subtle ways that still startled her now and then.
His warmth lulled her into a sated half-doze, one she only briefly indulged in. She wriggled free from his hold and slowly sat up to the shock of the much colder room. As much as she enjoyed cuddling with her affectionate half, her other senses also clamored for satisfaction, and it was her eyes she chose to indulge next. His sleep, the darkness, suffused his usual sun-strong glow into a homey incandescence akin to those of the paper lanterns in the garden; he was golden even in the unlit room, and she basked in his light.
Naruto's lanky form was limpid, his limbs carelessly jumbled with the bedclothes. His mouth hung open, just a but so, through which air whistled in and out in cadence with the shifting of his chest. His eyes, a crystal blue the indigo skies promised for later, swam around lazily underneath lids ajar. She edged nearer to gaze into their sheen, noting her distorted image on their sleep-glazed surfaces. She smiled a private smile.
The smile stayed a few still moments, then Hinata allowed it to slip off with a subtle shrug. Tenderly, she rearranged the comforter to better swaddle him—he looked quite comical with his whiskered face sticking out of the fluffy cotton and only a tuft of his light hair visible. She would let him sleep a while longer, let him be with his peace, his dreams.
Again, Hinata shook free of such thoughts and decided to go for an early start. The training rooms should be empty at this time, so she could work on her forms in their shadow-shrouded silence, half-meditating as the outside bloomed to morning. (Neji-nii preferred to roam among the titanic trees under the haunting pre-dawn light. Hanabi slept on, would awaken only to the aroma of breakfast.) A semblance of mastery, of course, had come to her years ago, after even more years of relentless fighting. There was something uplifting and energizing—cleansing—about the swift, subtle movements of the Gentle Fist. It was a discipline, after all, not merely a collection of techniques.
(And there were habits hard to break.)
Hinata prepared to stand, rose from her haunches, and pushed herself to her feet. She didn't quite reach that far, losing her balance instead and catching herself with a knuckle to the floor. Startled, she looked askance at the thin material of her sleeping kimono, pulled taut. It was caught on a tightly curled fist.
In spite of herself, she relented to a smile and sat down on the futon to work herself free from his clutches. Oh, but it seemed his grip on the well-worn cotton was for dear life. Briefly, she entertained the thought of leaving the cloth behind, when she noted that the swimming blues underneath those gold-fletched lids had come to a standstill.
She blushed rosily.
"G-good morning," she ventured.
Still through half-lidded eyes, his gaze at her cleared a bit. He was certainly awake now.
"Morning," he murmured.
"Sorry to wake you."
"But not about trying to escape, huh?" he accused. He sat up to peer at her closely. "I didn't get to see you last night."
"Anata–"
"Awake, I mean."
"Sorry, I fell asleep." She smiled sheepishly. "I tried to wait though. Promise."
"Not getting the point, are we?" Naruto frowned at her. "Are you okay, Hinata-chan? Really?"
"Yes." She fought back the instinct to elude his earnest eyes and met his probing stare with her lucent one. "Really."
"'Cause if they're all—"
"Really." This she repeated firmly.
"Why were you avoiding me then?" he persisted.
"I wasn't." She sighed. "I just wanted to let you sleep a bit more before you have to get up."
"Who says I have to get up soon?" he challenged, eyes dancing with mischief. "I think I want to sleep in this morning."
"Naruto–"
"You can join me, if you want. Say sorry for being sneaky and all that."
Hinata couldn't help but smile against his lips as he pulled her back under the covers.
"Not that you have any choice," he added, a breathless moment later.
She decided not to contest that.
-----
Konohagakure no Sato was nestled in the depths of the perilous forests of the massive Fire country. Said to be neutral, said to be invisible, it was nonetheless a bastion of power, source of subtle touches that moved the world, the jewel that ranked Fire among the Five Shinobi countries. The facelessness, the solidarity, the seeming oneness of identity was fiction, but a fiction that was necessary for the maintenance of such forbidding strength. Ninja villages were as fractured as their lay counterparts. Konoha was no exception.
Ninjas dabbled in the goings-on in the darker side of humanity, earned their bread by associating with Death. Nonetheless, the directions to take, the wheels to grease, the gears to stall, was determined by a hundred little things—by the leader, yes, but the leader was ideally the servant to the societies they lead. In actuality. . .
The ability, the effectiveness of such an ability, to influence the decision of one so cornerstone to the tides of the globe, was a sure measure of power. The clan of Hyuuga had of late obtained so direct a link to precarious peak, so stealthily that many were left speechless at its wake. Many believed twilight had descended upon the venerable family, an insidious crippling degeneration that was as final as the sudden annihilation of the clan Uchiha. But like the village Hyuuga deigned offer allegiance to, it rose to reclaim the forbidding might of the legends. The Godaime Tsunade, erratic as she was, was often the one credited for wrenching Konoha from the woes of betrayals and invasions. The source of Hyuuga's rebirth was more of a mystery, more diffuse, and harder to pinpoint. No family, however, had ever displayed such power so blatantly.
Hyuuga Hinata was the pinnacle of said power. Current head of the clan, she was also wife to the preeminent ninja of Leaf, one of the most powerful men in the world, the Hokage.
Hinata-sama became consort to the Hokage the same year the elders and clan leaders advanced the young man to the post. It was a move that set off indignant murmurs through out the village, ones the Rokudaime made no move to silence. The man was refreshingly novel, exasperatingly singular. . . The village was still getting used to him. Despite his odd gift of easing people to see his point of views, he did not dare announce his contempt for their protests over his choice of mate. His past exploits promised a brilliant future, but that would not save him should he choose to slight his own citizens.
She kept her name, for her new husband had none to give her. To be Hokage was to be loyal to the village and the village alone. Surnames vanished, replaced by a title, a number, and a vast responsibility. Some, however, saw this as further testament to the extent of Hyuuga's might. They would not suffer another man to preside over the illustrious clan, not even the one heralded as best. Hinata remained a Hyuuga.
How much was known of the woman at the crux of all this? Very little. She was silent, as enigmatic as the opaline eyes that named her. The clan kept her jealously close—always, her steps were dodged by her two closest kin, Neji, the one called genius even by the exacting standards of the Gentle-fist users, and Hanabi, the diminutive but severe kunoichi, no less able than her cousin. They were a triumvirate, a concession to changing times, but only in appearance. It was a well known fact that Hinata wore the two legends like weapons on her hips.
Malicious whispers did not spare the Hokage, of course. With the deeply rooted legacy of the Hyuuga at arms length, it only added to the Rokudaime's ability to serve the interest of Konoha, of Fire country, of the world in general, even his own.
In which order?
Time, as always, was to make the revelation.
---
Winter made the days brief, sending them scurrying over the mountains every afternoon, that evenings barely hinted passing through dusk at all. Tonight, the moon was very blue, touching its hue on the glazing today's frost brought about. Hinata paused in the middle of the winding stairways that connected the village offices from one face of the hill to another. The half-finished bust of the most recent Hokage was ominous under the ethereal light, like a smudged charcoal drawing, an artist's blithe erasure. She shivered but not from the cold.
"Oneesama, the next step would be to step down to the next step. In case, you've forgotten."
Hinata turned to the owner of the surly voice and smiled tightly. "I haven't, Hanabi-chan," she said, as she resumed walking down the icy steps. "But I appreciate the reminder, as always."
"If you're going to ask for advice," spoke up her other companion. "Now would be the perfect time."
"Thank you, nii-san," replied Hinata. "I'd sleep on the matter first. Tomorrow, we can decide."
"Though you've actually decided, right?" Hanabi stated bluntly.
Hinata smiled again. "I've always been transparent to you, sister."
"Do you doubt me?"
Again, the clan head halted. "Hanabi?"
"Like nii-san said. Now is the time to come clean. Do you doubt me?"
"Hanabi, I've never—"
"Then don't hold back on me. If you're pissed off, then be pissed off. This is your chance. Vent now!"
"I am angry," came the quiet admission. "But fear curtails it within reason."
"You should have shoved their proposal up their asses," continued Hanabi in the same low and flat voice. "Conflicts of interest. . . Years ago, they would even look at him because he was nobody, but now that he's Hokage—"
"Wrong," Neji spoke up. "They wouldn't accept him because they knew he was going to be Hokage. It was too risky a connection, since Hinata-sama wasn't as tractable as they all hoped."
"She isn't tractable now, but they had allowed her marriage."
"Which is why we are here. We allowed her marriage. We 'gave' her permission, remember?"
"That is so full of shit, and you know it, niisan."
Hinata sighed. "Nobody had to give anybody permission," she said, as she resumed walking. "Let's leave it at that."
"Aren't you going to do anything?" Hanabi turned to her cousin furiously. "It's self-destructive behavior!"
"What Hinata-sama plans to do or not do hardly warrants their permission, let alone mine."
"What Hinata-sama has to learn is practical politics, even the rudiments of it! This sort of insolence cannot be allowed. The main family—no, the Hyuuga!—pride cannot be degraded thus. And a woman of her position—"
"Practical politics," Neji repeated. "After all, we can't let them know Hinata-sama has a mind of her own."
At that Hinata burst out laughing. "W-what a way to put it, Neji-nii," she wheezed.
"Then what do we tell them?" demanded Hanabi. "All that romantic crap about destiny and undying love?"
"We've discussed and decided. A divorce would benefit neither the village nor the clan and would in fact weaken us to the eyes of the enemies. . . more importantly, to that of our own ninjas."
"But that'll make it seem like the clan's ready to acquiesce to small favors. The Hyuuga elders will go up in flames."
"It will also make it seem like the clan's ready to squeeze out every possible profit from this connection. The village elders will go up in flames, as well."
"Oneesama, you're going to get us killed," muttered Hanabi.
Hinata merely pressed on, her mind already on more pleasant matters.
---
In the innermost chambers of the Hyuuga's sacred home, the most important young woman in the whole building could be foundd sheathed by shadows. Her raiment was fine, the dark ceremonial robe of the clan head. The position she was currently in was hardly flattering, however. It seemed one sandal was stubbornly refusing to be unclasped.
Hopping on one bare foot, she struggled to relinquish her other foot while keeping from falling flat on her face, heavy clothes and all. After several breathless moments of tugging, the chord slipped free. The whiplash sent her tottering for a bit, before she was able to find her way back to her two feet, steady once again. She dusted off her stiff, pearl gray kimono, and looked up—
Only to bow down low automatically.
She blinked, suddenly remembered, and straightened once more. She found herself face to face with startled blue eyes.
They both burst out laughing.
"It's only you, Hinata-chan," Naruto said sheepishly, as he too straightened. "You looked so formal and all that, that I. . . thought I entered the wrong house. Ahahahaha!"
"So do you." Hinata beamed at him, even as he removed the wide-brimmed hat that had been the signature feature of the late Sandaime Hokage. "Look formal, I mean."
Naruto tousled his already unruly hair. "I guess, it helps people listen to me," he said. "Anything interesting happen to you today?" He held out an arm to her.
"Not really," Hinata said, smiling lightly as she was nestled at the crook of his arm. "The usual things. You know."
"That's good to hear." His eyes danced. "Hinata-chan! I've got loads to tell you!"
They closed the door behind them firmly.
093001 23:30
Notes:
1. Written for 31days community theme for September 21, Greece with its immortal glories.
2. If you're following Sunergos, you might recognize the Neji-Hinata-Hanabi tandem.
