Hyuga
The Bonds of Sisterhood
It is early summer and the weather is already unseasonably hot, the late-afternoon sun beating down ferociously. Despite the temperature, Hyuga Hanabi is hard at work in the small corner of the estate that serves as the family training field, viciously striking at a straw mannequin. Her Byakugan is activated and the seven year old girl watches with disappointment as her rigid fingers land a half-inch away from the pinprick in the dummy's sack covering. Although she is closer now than an hour ago, she could still scream with frustration− that half-inch is crucial in a fight, and may as well be a mile. As the probable heir of the noble clan, perfection is expected and little less will be accepted.
Perfect, she most certainly is not.
Hanabi grits her small white teeth− she has yet to lose even one, as a testament to her age− and tries the move once more. She knows her faults, has learned them by rote and can recite them in the same dry and monotonous tone they are so often delivered: she is too willful, possessing an abundance of energy that is unseemly for a girl her age, heiress or not. She can often be noisy, and is too familiar with some people, too shy and retiring with others. She lacks compassion. But she is given credit for her tenacity, her willingness to push her tiny body to the breaking point if it means impressing her father or the nosy elders who so closely watch her every action.
Her bloodline limit registers a movement behind her, and Hanabi pauses in her unrewarding training, turning her full attention in that direction. She watches with barely concealed interest as a female member of the family's cadet branch comes running toward her, plain kimono hem flapping open as her thin pasty legs pump awkwardly over the browning lawn. Himeno is the bespectacled girl's name; she is perhaps three years older than Hanabi, a first cousin. Not that such a relationship even matters. The dull green symbol branded onto the other female's pale forehead sets them apart, even if the aristocratic blood running throughout their veins does not.
"Lady Hanabi," Himeno gasps by way of greeting. She attempts a proper bow, but instead ends up falling to her knobby white knees and struggling to breathe. So close to the training dummies, the grass has been worn away by the treading of many feet; a cloud of fine red dust rises from the ground when the older girl drops, and as Hanabi finally bends over in an attempt to hear the coughed words, it sticks to both their sweat-soaked bodies. Disgusted, Hanabi leans back and looks down upon her asthmatic cousin with undisguised contempt. Imagine, being so tired just running from the house! How could this pathetic girl gasping before her be Hyuga?
Himeno finally catches her breath. She looks up at the younger girl and, without bothering to wipe the dirt from her glasses, spits out her message. "Have you heard, Lady? About Lady Hinata?"
Standing beneath the blazing sun, Hanabi's flushed skin turns suddenly chill. Something must have happened; her older sister has been gone for days with her genin team− participating in the Chunin Exam− and the elder girl must have done so well that their father has finally formally declared her his heir, despite the fact that Hanabi is the better fighter and more outgoing person. Soon their cantankerous grandfather, the former clan leader, will come for her with his large hands glowing, and mark her forehead with that terrible curse. Hanabi will become a nobody, just another faceless drone to serve the new queen, one of so many, and any privileges she once had will be lost to her.
Hanabi shivers at the horrid thought.
"Lady, are you all right?" Himeno has been watching the younger girl closely through her dusty lenses, searching for a sign of weakness or anxiety. She sees the blush of color− caused by training in the high heat− drain from her younger cousin's naturally wan-complexioned face. When Hanabi nods with poorly feigned indifference, Himeno continues her tale, sad tears welling up in her strange hazel eyes. "We just got word back at the house; the exam preliminaries have ended, and your honored elder sister− They say she fought hard, but she's half dead! They've taken her to the hospital, but her heart is all messed up… Lady Hanabi, she could die!"
At first, there is just a joyous uplifting of Hanabi's youthful heart, one that comes in response to knowing that she is still a free bird and likely to remain so indefinitely. Beyond that, however, the girl does not know how to react to the shocking information which has just been relayed. Convention says that she should be distraught over this incident. Perhaps she should faint away, or act like the women in the old stage dramas; when receiving bad news, those ladies always fell to their knees, screaming and crying, rending their fine clothes or even their magnolia white skin. They were genuinely moved, which is very strange, given how Hanabi currently feels nothing at all.
It's because I don't know her...
The sudden realization is a candid one; Hanabi knows very little about her older sibling, has never really given her any serious consideration. They were born five years apart, into a family that has had different expectations for each of them, and often kept separated. Hanabi has no childhood memories of her sister as a loving playmate. After a time−when it became clear that Hinata was not succeeding as heir, while Hanabi seemed to be especially gifted− they became rivals. Now each girl strives for the top position in the household, wanting desperately to be acknowledged, to be loved by their stern father, to win. In short, they are more acquaintances than actual sisters.
"Lady Hanabi? Your father's leaving for the hospital as soon as his meeting is finished. My mom said that I should come and tell you, in case you want to−" Before Himeno can finish her sentence, her younger cousin is off and running for the house, her little sandaled feet crunching carelessly over the many bright yellow dandelions that are taking advantage of the dead grass. Himeno makes ready to run after the girl− she has been tasked with keeping an eye on her, after all− but accidentally inhales some of the crushed weed's pollen. A frame-shaking sneeze is induced, and by the time the frail kid regains her footing and clears her head, the speedy Hanabi has disappeared.
Some twenty minutes later, a freshly scrubbed Hanabi exits the great house and meets up with her father just as he reaches the compound's main gate. Stretching out her short legs, she falls into step beside him, and they pass through the guarded portal together. Hiashi does not pause or focus his pearlescent eyes upon his youngest child, which means little to a Hyuga, but he does not verbally acknowledge her either. Hanabi has never considered herself overly sensitive, but her only parent's sudden distance is painful to her; she had slipped on a simple powder blue yukata for this outing− hoping to do her father credit− and he does not even notice.
Hanabi purses her pink lips; just another thing to blame Hinata for.
Dusk approaches and ominous thunderclouds begin to build to the southeast, throwing the wide avenue they are walking down into semi-darkness. The way soon becomes choked with civilians and ninja alike, heading home to their dinners and welcome air-conditioning after a long day of work. Those who pass closest to the white-eyed duo nod and murmur polite greetings or, in some cases, condolences. News about Hinata has certainly traveled fast; Hiashi courteously inclines his dark head to each commiseration, and his handsome face remains grave. No one bothers speaking to Hanabi, and the little girl suffers a flash of irritation and begins to wish she had stayed at home.
They round a corner formed by some family's garden wall, stepping out onto a new street. Konoha Hospital is right across from them, the entrance marked by two columns of stone taller than Hanabi, each with a great deal of characters written across them. Hanabi's eyes take them in at a glance, then move on to the building itself. The medical center is one of the village's largest constructions; it runs the length of the street and rises a full three stories. There is no way for Hanabi to tell how many rooms it encompasses but, judging from the many windows that reflect the cloudy evening sky, it is quite a lot. Her curious white gaze rises to the sign above the entrance−
"What are you standing there for, Hanabi? Hurry up."
Embarrassed to have been caught staring like simpleton, Hanabi scurries to obey her frustrated father. She pushes past a few loitering people and comes to stand next to him before the entrance, safely tucked under the short eaves of the tiled roof. The first of the raindrops begins to fall as Hiashi pulls open the glass door, a blast of cold air-conditioning rushing through the gap and causing the windows to become opaque. Although it is considered ill-mannered for the heir to walk before the clan head, Hanabi darts quickly underneath his outstretched arm and into the well-lit space, fearful lest she make her parent wait and thereby upset him further.
The inside of the hospital is even more impressive than the outside. A cavernous space stretches before Hanabi− easily large enough to accommodate her entire family− and it is unlike anything she has ever seen. The chilly room is decorated entirely in pastels, pale washes of blue, green, and cream. In her little kimono, the awestruck girl blends right into the color scheme. The overhead lights are long, flickering rows set flush against the ceiling, and they provide the space with a strange illumination the reflects off the tile floor in a thousand different places. Furniture is relatively sparse, consisting of a few tables and groupings of elongated, backless benches−
"Father, why are there so few people here?"
The door behind her bangs shut, and Hanabi does not know if its violence is due to the rising wind outside, or her father's out-of-character negligence. "Visiting hours are over."
In the center of the great room is a rectangular conglomeration of desks, their dark surface littered with ledgers, clipboards, and pens. Behind them sit two women wearing small robes, writing and chatting easily with one another. Perhaps sensing Hanabi's interested stare, one looks up and gives a fake smile which fades as soon as she recognizes the famous colorless eyes. With a little bow, the administrative assistant points toward the rear of the building, where two staircases rise up to a second floor landing while a door between them conceals a hallway that leads further into the structure. "I'm afraid she's just come out of surgery, Lord Hyuga. You can find her in ICU."
Hiashi thanks the woman− only Hanabi can tell that he is distracted, the words coming without thought− and strides toward the closed door, obviously familiar with the route. The girl does not question Hiashi's acquaintance with the way or the reason they are being allowed to pass after hours, merely struggles to keep up with her harried parent, her small geta clattering across the tile floor. Their sound is loud in the relative silence of the room, drawing every pair of eyes her way, and Hanabi feels suddenly self-conscious in her feminine clothes. She had wanted admiration, not the unwanted feeling of being overdressed, and the seven year-old vows to stick with her training outfit from now on.
They pass through the swinging black doors without a word, and the change in scenery is almost immediate. Gone are the soothing colors; everything in this wide, deserted hallway is functional and inorganic, monochrome like the Hyuga themselves. The lighting is different as well, fluorescent bulbs that flicker inconsistently and agitate the duo's sensitive eyes. There are doors on both the left and the right sides of the corridor, at regularly spaced intervals, and each is clearly marked with a little sign that contains medical jargon too complicated for Hanabi to puzzle out. Not that she has the time, as the little girl is nearly sprinting now to keep pace with her swift father.
The hallway intersects another straight ahead, forming a right-angle junction. Two large, white-suited men round it easily, carrying a loaded stretcher between them, and begin ambling in the clan members' direction. As they get closer, Hanabi can see the form of a teenage boy lying prone upon the fabric conveyance. He looks vaguely familiar− glossy black bowl-cut hair, thick eyebrows over onyx orbs that are dimmed with some kind of pain killer− but the girl cannot place him. As they pass one another, the drugged young man recognizes her father, and he begins to cry. "I am sorry, Lord Hyuga! I wanted to stop him... He had the match won, he did not need to−!"
"Hush, Lee. Quit bothering these people." One of the orderlies turns his hooded head and apologizes profusely for the patient's disruptive behavior, and then the group disappears into a nearby room, closing the door upon the teenager's incoherent protests. Unnerved, Hanabi breathes a sigh of relief and looks up toward her father, seeking reassurance and a possible explanation for the strange episode. Hiashi disappoints her in that regard; he stands unmoving, his pearl eyes narrowed at the newly-shut portal. One hand clenches slowly into a fist, and Hanabi realizes with a start that he is furious, probably about something the ugly boy had said.
What is going on here?
Hinata's private room is located deep inside the hospital, part of a wing that is devoted to the care of critically injured patients. They arrive before the small chamber just as a medical-ninja is exiting. The weary doctor straightens at the sight of them, adjusting his square glasses upon his thin nose and lowering his tidy clipboard to stand nearly at attention. Hanabi thinks that the man looks very competent when compared with their family's own obsequious physicians, although she revises her opinion slightly when he begins to speak, glancing nervously at the grave face of her father. "Ah, Lord Hyuga. The secretary paged me and said that you were on your way."
"My daughter?"
"As you have probably been informed, she suffered ventricular fibrillation− that's basically an inability of the ventricles in the heart to contract and continue pumping blood− due to a chakra attack delivered by her Chunin Exam opponent. There is no way to confirm such a diagnosis without an electrocardiograph or eyes like yours; fortunately, her teacher and the paramedics that were stationed there recognized the symptoms. They were able to use a defibrillator and jump her heart only seconds after she became asystolic, and we've used a lidocaine drip to keep things running smoothly since then. I'm confident that she won't have suffered any brain damage..."
Hanabi wanders away from the engrossed men, dazed by the seriousness of their conversation. There is a small window that looks into her sister's room, and the heiress steps up to it and peers cautiously in, afraid of what she might see. What meets the young girl's opalescent gaze is a morbid tableau; Hinata lies unconscious in a wheeled bed, the lower half of her white face covered in a plastic mouthpiece that Hanabi assumes is necessary for her to breathe. Numerous multicolored tubes and wires run in jumbles from the older girl's broken body, connecting her to a myriad of machines whose purposes the child cannot even begin to guess at.
Inside the room, a solemn nurse moves forward and− perhaps hoping to spare the little girl the traumatizing sight of an injured relative− pulls a heavy, dark shade across the window. The action leaves Hanabi staring in dismay at her own healthy reflection, so very different in appearance from Hinata's bloodless face. In that single instant, all of the contempt she has previously felt for her distant older sister is dispelled, replaced by pity and another emotion that Hanabi is both unwilling and unable to name. All she can think about is poor, frail Hinata with her mediocre fighting skills; had the other girl's adversary really needed to go so far?
I'd like to hurt whoever did this to you.
The distressing thought is a quick one− little more than a violent flash through her darkened mind− and Hanabi is unsure where it comes from. Frowning, she turns away from her mirrored image and returns to her customary place at her father's side, once more intent upon listening to the doctor. The physician has moved on in his lecture and is now giving Hinata's prognosis, still using the same complicated terms as before. Though she tries her best to follow the unfamiliar words, Hanabi does not understand most of them, and she is relieved when her father nods decisively and the doctor bows to them both. Finally, this taxing visit is at an end.
The two walk unhurriedly toward the exit− different from where they came in, further proof that Hiashi mysteriously knows his way around the place− and Hanabi finds the pace much more comfortable than her father's earlier possessed hustle. Hoping to find her only parent's mood much improved, the heiress sneaks a glance upwards at his handsome face, and notes with disappointment that his visage is still as stormy as the weather outside. Worried that she might have missed some important part of the exchange with the doctor, Hanabi squares her narrow shoulders and asks in a small voice which nearly goes unheard beneath of a roll of thunder, "Is Hinata going to die, Father?"
Hiashi's pearlescent eyes do not bother to meet her own inquisitive ones, but Hanabi knows instinctively that she has been noticed and appraised, recognizes with certainty that her father has observed everything about her. The heiress hopes that he does not find anything about her lacking but, while waiting for his answer, she does not dare ask. They round a corner in contemplative silence, stepping into another empty beige corridor that ends with a set of glass double doors. Beyond the heavily fogged windows, lightning flashes across the sky, briefly illuminating the night. After the retort of distant thunder, Hiashi finally says, "They do not think so."
There are more words hiding behind those few− Hanabi can sense them through the familial bond that they share− but her father is a very private man, and they are not forthcoming.
Opening one of the misty doors, the two Hyuga step out onto the hospital's porch just as the summer rain shower comes to an end. Although darkness has fallen and the temperature with it, the oppressive humidity remains, making it hard to breathe. Moving down the concrete steps to the sidewalk that leads through the grounds, avoiding the puddles that have accumulated to reflect the hazy light from the streetlamps, it takes only a moment before the duo begins to sweat. The exercise, combined with the vanishing scent of disinfectant and the more comfortable illumination, serve to loosen Hiashi's tongue. He confesses simply, "It was Neji, you know."
Startled, Hanabi misses a step and stops dead, her right foot splashing into a small pool. Warm rainwater begins soaking slowly into her cotton tabi, and still she does not move. Neji is her oldest first cousin, and the aloof teenager is perhaps even more of an enigma than Hinata. The blood of the cadet branch that flows through his veins should make him weaker than either of the heiresses, and yet− He had done this? Nearly killed her sister, who was his childhood friend and higher-ranking clan member, for the sake of an exam match? How is it that he is not dead for insubordination? Hanabi's brain whirls, struggling to process all of the new information and raw feelings that go along with it.
I'd like to hurt whoever did this to you.
Hiashi turns back to face her in askance, and Hanabi lifts her sopping foot from the puddle. When the ripples of liquid still, coalescing once more into a shadowy mirror, the young girl is once again confronted with her own reflection; with the darkness softening the edges, the image does indeed resemble Hinata's wan, agonized face. As Hanabi hurries to catch up with her father, her always fiery will strengthens, and the heiress suddenly has a new goal. One that surpasses her desire to be the next and greatest clan leader, or even to be perfect in the eyes of her family. Her main purpose in life is now to best and perhaps destroy her cousin Neji.
All for her sister, whom she barely knows but may love after all.