AN: Okay…I have a feeling this fic will be slow starting. I can feel the headache building in my cranium*moans, grips head* This is agony, but I just can't stop…*shakes fist weakly at heavens*
Disclaimer: Couldn't own Naruto if I tried. 'Sall Masashi Kishimoto's, though I do own Tsumibitoko no Youkai, Masao Tanaka and a few others that may or may not appear later on in the grand scheme. Who the frick knows, with my runaway brain. So keep your grubby mits off.
Little something's I listened to while writing this: Sell Your Soul by Hollywood Undead, Monster by Skillet, Ghost Walking and Hit the Wall by Lamb of God, Evil Angel by Breaking Benjamin and a ton of others I can't remember.
Edited a lot 30/05/2012
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These Binds that Tie Us or Shatter the Preconceptions
{Chapter Three: The Eyes Say As Much As the Tongue}
arc I hand on the gate
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PRESENT DAY
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Fire Country, Konoha—Village Hidden in the Leaves, Training Ground 14—abandoned.
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Tsumibitoko stared up at the sky, watching the afternoon light glint of the breeze-brushed leaves and grass around her. She was propped against a thick oak with rough bark, smoking and wishing it could relax her like the human addiction should.
Parting her lips, she watched ghostly smudges of grey seep from her mouth in a wobbly ring to the sky above her—melding with the blue and white of clouds and blinding sun illuminating the tops of trees. A small triumphant smirk molded her lips at the mundane accomplishment, a glint of teeth captured before drifting off on the breeze like her thoughts and smoke.
It was the afternoon of the next day of her arrival in leaf—and she was currently waiting for Hinata to rock up, stick around for a few hours, before being sending the heiress on her merry way. Just to give herself a daily dose of fullness.
Tsumibitoko had chosen a training ground because, one, it was out of the way, and private—most ninja didn't barge into a training ground if they could sense other ninja there already, it was like…shinobi social etiquette 101. Not written in stone—or anywhere really—but abided by, none the less. They all knew sometimes it was safer to avoid other ninja training, who knew if or what kind of emotions they may be channeling and letting out? Ninjas were angsty and had brooding, bloody, troubled pasts by default. It was self-preservation thing (differentiating an enemy from ally can be hard when you're in the zone) as well as a recognition of privacy—a respect to being human behind all the blood and kunai. It was an acknowledged privilege—since solitude could be inordinately hard to find in a ninja village. And two, Tsumibitoko figured it might get Hinata to train (they were in a training ground)—as there wouldn't be much else to do and it was the easiest option. This had a couple benefits. Tsumibitoko would get to see the skills of their Daemon Cantrix—see if she was up to par—and it would also lessen the chance for…conversation.
Tsumibitoko wanted none of that. She just wanted to feel like how she once did, a demon, for a few hours each day (something she could do now! She could still barely get past that fact), the demon girl didn't want to have to talk with someone she detested violently during her savoring those few minutes. No matter what feelings were forced on her by the seal, they weren't her own, and she refused to allow them to dictate any one of her actions. She wouldn't admit it, but she was scared to. She'd confess to being angry though, that wasn't a weakness. She wouldn't let the seal take over and control her own feelings, thoughts and proceedings.
…Even if…they kind of were now…with her being here and all…and her thinking about it…and angsting over it.
…
…Goddammit.
Tsumibitoko scowled.
What-the fuck-ever. She still felt a bit better just having that slight rebellion. She was such a sucker for temptation (it's what got her in this whole mindfuck of a mess in the beginning anyway), so screw it; she was proud of herself for holding out.
Tsumibitoko sighed a little, grumbling under her breath. Ah, fuck it all. I have no excuses. But I'm still a stubborn little shit and I'll dig my heels in for the damn sake of it! Vigor renewed, the demon girl quickly slumped from her pose (dramatic fist-pump on a cliff edge, waves crashing up behind her) and glanced around to check to see if anyone saw her—un-necessary paranoia, but she was in a ninja village. Filled with people like Kakashi Hatake, the last of the Sanin—what's-her-name-of-the-big-titties—and Sasuke Uchiha. She only bothered to remember those three pups simply because, one, the Sanin lady was old (by human standards, laughable by demons), therefore, there was more time for her existence to sink into Tsumibitoko's range of acknowledgement and memory banks…and those two others had the Sharingan. She shuddered violently. And they were powerful fucks with it. She utterly shit herself at the thought of that Uchiha-kit, as Kyuubes would call him. He terrified her to basic primal levels. He had freaking mangekyo (able to control demons implicitly) and insane lightening tricks (her natural enemy). Tsumibitoko's shudder grew stronger. In her mind, Sasuke Uchiha had a 'flee-on-sight' warning—and Kakashi was no better. That man had more experience in the ninja business…but, then again, the Uchiha-whelp had been trained by that creepy snake Sanin (quite the admirably evil bastard, if she said so), right? So, it was quite the toss-up of 'who I'd run from harder'.
Lightening was not fun. Tsumibitoko's scowl deepened. Her innate weakness, and both those insanely powerful users had to have Sharingan. She almost turned and slammed her head against the tree-trunk. And then, of course, here she was—risking her neck by electrocution and mangekyo mind-fuck all for getting a hit of Hinata Happy Demon Drug™. There was something almost masochistic about it, she mused, and not the whole, sexual thing—she'd smacked right back when someone she'd picked up off the street figured he'd get off on that shit—hers seemed to be the more 'willingness or tendency to subject oneself to unpleasant or trying experiences'. She was going grey before her time, dammit.
Tsumibitoko could only sob manly tears of joy and relief at the thought of Uchiha Itachi being dead. That was one scary mofo. She was just thankful to the point of deliriously grateful catatonic levels that he preferred fire to lightening—and the fact she'd never bumped into him in a dark alley before his little bro had off-ed him. Ninja had an irritating habit of springing out new jutsu's when you least expected them (it would've been just her luck if she'd got in a fight with the Itachi dude on one of her bigger jobs, only for him to pull a raiton jutsu out of his ass. That would've just made. her. day.) But, alas, he was dead. So nothing to worry about.
…Apart from the fact that Itachi had been incredibly powerful and his brother had killed him (thereby making him the stronger of the two) and Sasuke had lightening moves and he was still alive. And in this village.
…That tree was looking really good to her forehead right now.
"I'm going to die. I'm going to frickin. die." She muttered under her breath gravely. Sure, she'd managed to infiltrate one of the biggest, strongest ninja villages, thereby being strong herself—but that's hardly a grand feat after being alive thousands of years and the fact she could disappear completely to even the most chakra attuned sensitive types just by sinking into the Earth and concentrating on becoming one with it. So, she knew it would only be a matter of time before these overly-suspicious leaf Nin figured something was up. She just freaking knew it—what with their Hyuuga heiress disappearing each day for a few hours in the future (as long as Tsumibitoko had any say in it) and Hinata probably becoming more confident (how can you not when you have all of demon-kind under your thumb?), someone would get wise to what was going on and follow her or something and then they'd see Tsumibitoko and she'd be royally fucked. Fucked by a lightening jutsu is what she'd be.
A soft tap with two fingertips between her eyes brought her crashing out of her mentally-hyperventilating, panicked thoughts—almost taking the persons hand off as her reflexes lashed out in shock, swiping with her claw-like nails. I must've been freaking out worse than I thought, if I didn't notice Hinat—I mean Hyuuga. Tsumibitoko almost let out a sigh of relief at the familiar chakra and softly smiling face before her. Her adrenaline and panic was already receding, she felt better. More content, whole. Just the presence and smile, scent and sight, of the girl before her filled the demon female to the brim. She almost smiled lazily, but pressed her lips together and bit it back.
"Good M-Morning." Hinata greeted cheerily (apparently they had the same effect on each other), voice soft and a little shy. "Y-You seem distracted…I h-had to t-tap you to g-get your attention…Y-You're really interesting! Do you know you look so deep in th-thought most of the time? I-It's hard f-for anyone to guess wh-what you're thinking…It's f-fascinating, quite mysterious. Makes me w-wonder what y-you're th-thinking about."
Tsumibitoko blinked for a few seconds at the non-sequitor, before struggling down the blush that fought for dominance on her cheeks. Since when do I BLUSH?-! Her mind howled pitifully, watching as Hinata seemed to realize exactly what she'd said and turned the shade of a strawberry. Good. Let her blush. I DO NOT BLUSH.
Tsumibitoko shot Hinata a painfully withering glare, barely even acknowledging her presence (trying desperately to ignore the slight wince that came from the girl opposite her in response to her attitude) as she rooted around in her shorts pockets—still clad in the same clothes as yesterday—pulling out a crumpled pack of cigarettes and tapping one free, ignoring the slight, petulant flush still cresting her cheekbones. Catching it between her lips, she searched for the dark red, transparent plastic throw-away lighter she'd nicked and quickly cupped it against her lips, the metallic flickering clicks like music to her ears as the spark wheel flashed against flint. Tsumibitoko swore slightly under her breath as the damn thing stubbornly refused to light, suddenly freezing an inch—cigarette stilling between her lips, still staring down at the lighter attached to its end—before her eyes slowly trailed from under her lashes to where Hinata was…watching her. Just watching her with a smile on her face.
"You got something to say?" She demanded gruffly around the cigarette still in her mouth, barely moving her lips—glaring a little. Hinata just shook her head happily, hands clasped together cheerily behind her and not looking away. Tsumibitoko's glare narrowed, but she dismissed the Hyuuga girl and went back to trying to catch a light—succeeding after a few tries.
"…You really sh-shouldn't smoke…it's b-bad for you."
The demon girl twitched so violently it was almost a spasm, snapping a glare filled with incredulous anger at Hinata. She caught the cigarette between her forefinger and middle, pulling it from her mouth.
"And who the fuck are you to tell me what's bad for me and what's not, hmm?" She demanded again, glare hardening. It was kind of hard to be furious when Hinata's eyes were only filled with concern. Like being mad at a cute bunny rabbit. It was like someone plucking at her conscience—something she hadn't thought existed—and her heartstrings—another thing she hadn't thought existed (she had a heart! Who knew?). Unfortunately, it seemed both were only activated in conjunction to this girl. The only other time that had happened had been with—…Keiko…but never to this extent, not even close.
"I—…I'm not trying to tell you what t-to do…" Hinata said quietly, subdued, as she pressed her fore fingers together and stared at the ground. "I-It's…just a known fact…smoking c-causes lung cancer…a-and l-lung cancer…kills…"
"Yeah, well, not Youkai. We're stronger than you humans. Our insides don't pick up human weaknesses like that. You obviously don't know nothing about demon-kind then, do you?" Tsumibitoko growled, trying to ignore the guilt clogging her throat. This was pissing her off. Why the hell didn't this girl get angry or cry at her verbal abuse? Why didn't Hinata just leave and give it up as a lost cause? Why did she just stand there and cause Tsumibitoko's heart to ache, taking her rudeness in stride and emitting only…worry? There was obviously something wrong with the Hyuuga heiresses thought and reasoning processes.
Hinata mumbled something. "What?" Tsumibitoko spat angrily.
"Uhm…i-it's 'don't kn-know anything'…n-not 'd-d-don't know…n-nothing'…" Hinata practically whispered, shifting a little and glancing up rapidly to meet her gaze before her eyes darted down again.
Tsumibitoko didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Both the corners of her lips and her right eye twitched manically as her body fought over two decisions. She's…correcting my grammar…well, fuck me sideways. I treat her like shit and she…she corrects my grammar…
"Are you anal or something…?" She finally managed, wanting to strangle herself immediately at the almost-almost-soft amusement blatant in her tone. The strained almost-smile ached at the corners of her lips—an odd, twistedly amused/horrified/conflicted/taken aback look on her face. Damndamndammit!
Hinata seemed to perk up a bit, something that made Tsumibitoko feel less like a monster—and made her face want to introduce itself to a tree more than ever.
"Ano…n-not really…m-my family c-can be though…" The dark haired girl glanced around like she'd said an atrocious swear and was expecting an ANBU to pop out any minute from the underbrush, screaming righteously with katana held aloft in vengeance for such atrocious blasphemy. "…I w-was just b-being scolded by m-my father not a m-minute before s-so I suppose i-it might've rubbed off on m-me a bit…" Hinata's smile faded to a sad upturn of lips—a light dimming in her eyes so excruciatingly so (empty of all the softness and kindness and warmth that was Hinata) that Tsumibitoko was chomping at the bit with the urge to pull an Uchiha Itachi and massacre the Hyuuga clan. Slowly and painfully.
Then her mouth was moving without her consent. It was gaining a sentient mind of its own lately.
"Don't let them do that." Her voice was such a vehement and intense hiss it almost shocked herself, eyes burning and fists shaking—Hinata's own eyes widened as she blinked at Tsumibitoko in confusion. "Don't let them get to you like that—because I swear to god I'll ream them all limb from fucking limb!"
She almost slapped a hand over her mouth—arrgh! Fucking seal making me act like a bi-polar psycho!—but had more self-control than that, and only choked a little, the corners of her eyes tightening before she chomped down on her cigarette, not looking into wide, stunned white-tinged-violet like she'd just been. Fucking fuckity fucker fucking fucking fucks! Where the hell did that come from?-! And like I have any right to say that anyway! I hate her! I treat her like shit! Who am I to talk?-! That's so hypocritical! I don't care how much those Hyuuga hurt her anywa—…oh fuckity fucking ARGH! Her chest was doing that cruel aching thing again, like she'd managed to injure herself with her own thoughts. How weak this was all making her. Sweet baby Buddha that tree has no right to look so tempting to my forehead. Maybe some brain damage will stop this insanity.
"Forget it." She muttered; voice almost strangled like she wanted to swallow back those words—a strained quiet to her tone. "Never mind. My mouth just…fuck it." The last two words were almost a sulky mutter. I'm letting it get to me. Not an hour in, and my resolve is crumbling like a sloppy house of cards.
It took all the restraint she had not to puff away at her cigarette anxiously like that odd 'train' contraption she'd seen put to use in northern Iwa—a litany of swears trailing through her head enough to make even Tayuya of the Sound flush red.
Almost half a minute of silence passed, only broken by the light wind rustling leaves, grass and flowers in the old, abandoned training ground—Tsumibitoko not daring to take a peek and see Hinata's reaction to her…whatever it was…protective, possessive instincts?
Suddenly…a thought came to mind. So obvious that Tsumibitoko was almost in pain from thinking about the amount of stupidity that must have accumulated in her brain to not think of it before. She'd been so focused on keeping a tight hold upon her restraint and self-control, on not letting the seal get to her, and her own selfish needs—that she hadn't even thought of the blatantly evident.
Tsumibitoko had said (in the rainforest that changed everything) that Hinata needed to get a grip on her abilities, but since she'd been leaving Tsumibitoko couldn't do it, and the Hyuuga girl would have to find another demon. But, (against her better judgment and willpower, perhaps) Tsumibitoko was here now—and not going anywhere anytime soon. Why the hell shouldn't I train and spar with Hinata? As an added bonus, it wouldn't give them any chance to talk about anything other than training—a purely professional sensei-pupil relationship—and the heiress would be brought up to appropriate speed to be a suitable Daemon Cantrix. Perfect. Tsumibitoko was stuck with Hinata a few hours each day anyway—why not keep them both in shape?
Well, you might want to work up the damn balls to look her in the eyes first. Her brain reminded her wryly. It was infinitely hard not to whine back 'I don' wanna!'
Tsumibitoko sighed roughly, forcing down her flush, and crushed her cigarette in a fist, letting it crumple and stuffing its warm remains in her pocket (she never did forgive herself for littering in Chuuou City, when she'd been in such a hurry to find 'voice-girl' that she'd dropped her cigarette). Blowing out her last, casual breath of smoke, Tsumibitoko squinted her eyes against the thick grey sting. The demon girl frowned slightly at Hinata, shifting her head so she could catch the other female in her scope of vision. Her voice was gruff, and defensive, a little embarrassed, when she muttered, "Wanna spar 'r som'thin'?" barely moving her dry lips, the taste of the cigarette, wet dirt, grass and molten honey on her tongue.
Catching glimpse of a small start, then a faltered nod—though Tsumibitoko had no idea as to what emotion made Hinata start or falter, and didn't want to-cum-couldn't be bothered to decipher it—a small grin upturned her lips. Not of happiness or amusement, more like cold, vicious, hard triumph.
And maybe I can use this as a way to build up defense against the seal. I can slowly, slowly work my way up from scratching Hinata, to injuring Hinata, then killing Hinata. A sharp pain stabbed between her lungs, leaving it a throbbing agony of tight-throated guilt and fear and grief, almost paralyzing her. A punishment from the seal. But, the demon girl knew that she could build up resistance to it—she had to—as the force of the emotions inflicted on her had already waned from exposure and longevity of the seals activity. And, one day, she could gut her Daemon Cantrix (be free of the curse and the bind) without regret or heartache. She'd've done it long before now if she could—if Hinata had been any ordinary human.
Hey, she'd slaughtered a man because she liked and wanted his t-shirt—you could hardly say she gave a shit about anyone's life but her own. And she did not want to spend her life tied to a mortal like some eager-to-please, gibbering, devoted fool.
Tsumibitoko, grin widening ferociously—like the blade of a mirror-bright kunai, all teeth and no smile, dangerously sharp—lashed out, fist just brushing Hinata's cheek as the girl's ninja-honed instincts set in on reflex and leaned her head back the deciding inch. Hinata barely had time to widen her eyes in alarm, still reeling from the adrenaline spark that had made her dodge—her body taking over due to shock—before Tsumibitoko had twisted—hips snapping—and driven an unforgiving knee into her gut, full of momentum. The Hyuuga girl doubled over; choking a small spray of stunned blood across the ground at the force and strength hidden in those slim, strong, tanned limbs—before being thrown with a sharp cry, slam, into a tree a few meters away by the impetus, crumpling uncomfortably to the ground.
"Well?" Tsumibitoko cocked a condescending eyebrow, gaze withering (and Hinata had an uninvited, rather heart-rending, superimposed glimpse of her father in those cold golden eyes, flashed white and unfeeling, disappointed and hating), "I said spar. Shouldn't you be prepared for my attack?"
Catching Hinata's wide-eyed, still shocked look, as she struggled to straighten up—and failed due to the pain radiating from her abdomen that left her gasping and doubling over—Tsumibitoko snorted and rolled her eyes.
"Oh. Right. Ninja like to stand opposite each other first and get into position when 'sparring'. No catching them unawares or nothing, all noble and gallant. That's bullshit. Any good shinobi worth their salt won't let you do that in battle, sweet-cakes. There is no honor in war. Ninja are sneaky and deceptive and cruel. They'll attack from your blindside, use every inch of weakness against you, and trick-trick-trick with smoke and mirrors till you're dead. There's no time for the flashy jutsu's and colorful parlor tricks that have commercialized and romanticized a job that really, is all about assassinating from the shadows, kicking your opponent when they're down and stabbing people in the back. Kids come strutting into the academy's, expecting honor and power and rescuing princesses and showy explosions and all that fancy shit they gloss over in the movies and history books."
She bent over, glaring viciously at Hinata with hands on hips and gritted snarl on teeth, as the Hyuuga slumped against the tree. Hinata had a feeling this rant was something Tsumibitoko had been bottling up for a while—wanting to scream it to the heavens every time she saw something that got it riled up. All Hinata could do at this point, physically and mentally, was watch and listen.
"There. Is. No. Honor. Do you know how many ninja break their nindou? 'Never leave a teammate behind'? 'Never betray'? 'Never go back on my promises'? Where is the honor in destroying your soul-bound principle? They're all just fancy words to humans, fancy words with no binding and no contract. You can shout them from the rooftops, write them in your own blood, tattoo them to your skin, and that's all they'll ever be. Loud, decorative words. You can believe in them all you want, trust in them and yourself, but you'll never be bound by them like demons are. That is why nindou are broken. You're. only. human. Promises are for the weak and naïve because only the hardened and wise know there is no honor—know that there is no way to uphold. Because for all those moments you manage to sustain your nindou, two more moments when you have to sacrifice those pretty words are waiting in the wings to make you realize that honor is just an appealing word that lies through its teeth and laughs at your ignorance."
She was shaking with fury now, Hinata staring—feeling utterly demoralized and grief-stricken at the utter lack of faith in general humanity, of the goodness in people, stitched firmly in those burning golden eyes. Hinata could see hatred feeding the demon girl, see her clinging to it, see her letting the odium engulf her in violent crashing waves because it was all she had left that was sane. Because she felt if she let that go, she'd be lost and vulnerable—like a last defense against…everything. It was agonizing to watch, and Hinata felt like an insignificant bug beneath those eyes, because she was one of the things Tsumibitoko was so trying to protect herself from.
It just strengthened her resolve to break down those barriers.
"You're right." Hinata said, softly—quietly, voice slightly shell-shocked. "Honor is a word for fools and innocents; it's a lie at the most basic form. It's a pretty word of fluff and inconsequence.(And she saw something break in those golden eyes, the hope that Hinata was different, that she would save Tsumibitoko—though suppressed and denied—shattering because she had wished—somewhere, deep down—for the heiress to rescue her from herself. It was covered immediately, but it had been there.
She watched as a tanned fist clenched in that bloodied t-shirt, over her demonic heart that still beat like a humans.
And Hinata's decision set itself in stone.)
The Hyuuga girl straightened slowly, still using the tree as a support as she unwaveringly stared into gold eyes.
"B-But, do you know the definition of the honor you talk about? You're thinking of the noun, 'adherence to what is right or to a conventional standard of conduct'. That's not what ninja do. I know that. Ninja are not that kind of honorable, because we are murders and deceptive and violent. We obey orders because we are loyal and trained to be obedient and protect, it's all we know. Never honorable in the noun sense.
"That's not what we mean when we say 'honor'.
"What we think of? We think of the verb. We think of grace, of privilege, of respect—we think of the times when our nindou's are upheld because they rescue us from the agony when they aren't.
"We think of honoring our words—because though we are not tied to them the ways demons may be—it takes so much more strength to uphold them when we have a choice, than if we were forced to, like your kind.
"We think of honoring our ancestors, honoring the dead, of protecting civilians, of perishing with dignity, of our homes and our brothers and sisters in arms, the place we were born and bred and came from that we would die saving. We think of honor on the front lines, because, sometimes, it's the only thing that can help you—save you—when you think of death. Thinking of being honored and remembered yourself, your sacrifice held close to someone's heart; even if it's just your family and friends. It can be the only reprieve.
"It's a pretty word, and pointless, yes. Sometimes, all honor does is hide acts of dishonor with as much smoke and mirrors as shinobi—but the world is not as black and white as you paint it. Sometimes, all you have to do, all you can do, is look for the color. Understand?…Th-That is our honor."
Hinata could see with searching, nervous eyes, that her words—though not instantly healing the maw of empty lack of faith—were like a thin layer of warm balm. Many more words would need to come on a variety of different subjects before her demon began feeling anything close to trust and healing after millennia of seeing only hatred and pain and betrayal. She saw something close to brittle, wary understanding; disgust and contempt, yes, but grudging acceptance in the lines of an ancient, youthful face. Something thawing to a simmer of warmth in the depth of frozen gold eyes.
Tsumibitoko snorted, all the emotions on that face dashed in the wake of her—not pity, pitying had to involve some sort of sympathy and feeling to the receiver, other than hatred—it was more like the disdainful deriding scorn of a particularly cold-hearted, wealthy human looking down their nose at a begging orphan. It had a fraction of similarity to those stares Naruto-kun used to get, (that he used to grin back at, determined to win) but there was too much 'holier than thou' disparagement for it to be a perfect replica.
"Then humans are weaker than I thought." Hinata felt something shrink painfully in her chest, constricting around her lungs. "They need to live in denial and spout pretty, empty speeches just to feel good about themselves."
Hinata glared, all forms of shyness to the wind, these insults were too much, snapping as she shot up straight—pain forgotten to a tight ache below her chest. "Isn't that what you're doing too? Running? Weak we may be, but at least we know when to stand and face—at least we can own up to the fact that we run!"
"I never said I didn't know I was running!" Tsumibitoko roared, instantly replying, before her jaw dropped a little in shock—glare suddenly hardening as she visibly bristled, "And who the hell are you to tell me I run?-! It's none of your fucking business!"
Hinata stomped forwards, fists tight by her sides, "You don't just run, you hide!" She snarled, frustration bubbling and breaking a dam somewhere inside her. Her demon seemed to have a knack for not just bringing the worst out in her, but just bringing her out. Of her shell, out of her shyness. Her opinions, her feelings, everything; all bared open and displayed without stutter. "And 'none of my business'?-! 'None of my business'?-! It was made my business the moment we shook hands, and how dare you judge humans when you can't take judgment yourself! Hypocrite!"
"I'LL JUDGE ALL I DAMN WANT TO, WOMAN! THEY HAVE DONE DEMONS TOO MANY WRONGS FOR ME TO SIT AND SMILE LIKE SOME DOCILE FUCKING IDIOT WHILE THEY FUCK SHIT UP, WEAK AND UNWORTHY!" Tsumibitoko howled, fury flashing across the molten gold surface of endless rippling eyes.
Hinata knew she was shouting, oh god, she was screaming (her father would have a conniption—heck, she herself would faint dead away if she was in her right mind—she wasn't even stuttering)—but she was so damn angry that Hinata could hardly see straight for the red tinting her vision.
"UNWORTHY OF WHAT, HUH? OF LIVING? WHO'RE YOU TO DECIDE THAT?-! WHO THE GODDAMN HELL—"oh god, she was swearing too, cursing; a panic attack was on the horizon—ARE YOU TO JUDGE WHO OF MY RACE LIVES AND DIES? BOTH OUR SPECIES ARE TO BLAME FOR WRONGS DONE TO EACH OTHER! STANDING THERE AND HATING ISN'T MAKING ANYTHING GO AWAY, IMPROVE OR MAKE YOU SUPERIOR! IT MAKES YOU NO BETTER THAN ANY OTHER HUMAN!"
The whole training ground could probably hear them (yelling like thunder in each other's faces, scarlet and trembling with rage, anger thrumming hot in veins human and demon alike) but both were too far gone for self-preservation, and the Hyuuga heiress could only hope—somewhere vague and ghostlike in her subconscious beneath the fury and injustice and hurt and confusion—that her perceived volume of their voices was an overstatement.
"DON'T YOU DARE COMPARE ME TO A MORTAL, WOMAN!" Tsumibitoko lunged at Hinata, the girl almost frozen in place by the intense rumbling ferocity of icy killing intent in that demonic voice—enough to make her brain freeze and head spin, blood trembling beneath her skin in terror.
Hinata didn't have time to dodge the fist, so, in her fury, her own instinctively came up and they slammed—agonizing knuckle to agonizing knuckle—into each other. It took all she had not to scream in excruciating pain. Bone buckling, wrist crumpling, crushing; forearm fracturing, like an earthquake all the way up her arm, leaving destruction in its wake.
It was damn humiliating that all Tsumibitoko did was shake out her hand a little afterwards.
"Weak!" She sneered, actually spitting on Hinata's hair—saliva dribbling on long dark locks—and the heiress screamed furiously at the cruel show of disrespect, byakugan blazing to life like a star (unwilling to die, refusing to give up and burn out) igniting obdurately for all the world to see—lunging at the demon girl with a war cry howling off her lips—
"I'M NOT WEAK!"
—her uninjured hand slamming a merciless jyuuken strike—two fingers, precise, emitting a sharp jab of chakra—into a tenketsu between shoulder an collar bone, knowing the agony that came with it (not just from the blocked tenketsu, but from fingers being dug between bone and muscle). Tsumibitoko cried out, hand slapping over it—glaring and spinning like a wildcat into a crouch to escape Hinata's range and disrupt her aim. All the ferocity of a tiger sprung behind a vicious, modified turning back kick that slammed into the heiress's chest, the demon girls free un-numbed-and-tingling fingertips brushing the earth almost innocently—before a thick stump of stone slammed into Hinata from behind, caught between foot and apparently almost cognizant earth, head thrown back as blood choked into the air from her mouth in the form of a sharp cry, eyes wide. That made the whole terrain an enemy.
Hinata was thrown forwards—the two forces suddenly halting with their war on her body, one wanting to push her ahead, the other back—when the foot disappeared and the forwards momentum won. It sent her tumbling as Tsumibitoko just slid aside—foot levering her form, moving in a quarter circle almost painfully graceful—shifting and leaning herself just an inch out of the way as Hinata was thrown past by the thick rod of earth, barely a millimeter from collision, hair billowing and whipping on both female.
The Hyuuga heiress rolled quickly over the ground, tumbling head-over-heels, springing up and turning with a scrape of earthen dust about her ninja sandals as she skidded backward by the force of the earthen-stump—pulling into a jyuuken stance and charging immediately, useless hand dangling—
"NINJA AREN'T WEAK!"
—rapid, blurring strikes and hits were blocked with fleshy thumps (Hinata dodging rapidly to make up for her slack arm)—Tsumibitoko toying with the Hyuuga girl if the small smirk burned upon her lips was any indication, not giving it her all remotely. It infuriated the heiress, reminded her of the Hyuuga training courtyard and cold eyes.
The demon girl struck out, leg flashing in a sideways arc, Hinata bending backwards in a spine-snapping dodge, a calming mouthful of air breathing out as the booted foot just grazed above her face in what felt like adrenaline-fueled slow motion. Tsumibitoko spun into another crouch from the kick, to keep her balance and make an easy transition into a wide ankle-sweep.
Hinata—still bending back, just glimpsing the foot now zooming around again to take her off her feet and into an ungainly sprawl—kept the momentum of her flexible, immaculately-balanced-but-crazy-looking dodge, unable to utilize her hands (incapable of moving them fast enough to gain sturdy traction and friction on the grass to flip over backwards, her awareness raced with almost unthinking adrenaline speed, besides, my injured upper-limb wouldn't support me anyway) she did it without hands.
Pulling off the backwards aerial flip armless, Hinata was almost shocked at the triumph—the adrenaline and fightfightfight coursing through her having given her the boost needed to replace practice and skill—quite the impressive feat considering the split-split second planning needed, incredible speeds, un-timed precision, perfect execution and flexibility off the charts. She'd always been supple and lithe, it's what made fighting against her so formidable in its own way—her ability to twist and bend around to get her jyuuken strikes in, a powerful combination for a Hyuuga, not that her father would ever admit it or notice or care—(that and her 'never say die' attitude) but this was…something else.
She almost grinned as she landed in a barely-stumbling crouch, regaining her balance, the rush of pride, adrenaline, shock and triumphant zeal bubbling beatifically through her, almost euphoric in excitement—
"HUMAN'S AREN'T WEAK!"
She'd never pulled something like that off before.
Hinata dove forwards (unhindered by nervousness, fueled by anger and brought high on the wings of 'indestructible' by the thrumming blood in her veins). Both demon and human had slashes of exhilarated grins on their faces; more a bearing of teeth than a smile, but it was shared. One was slightly more evil and arrogantly challenging than the other, the other purely uninhibited in beaten pride and anger. No clan's opinions and protocol to worry about, no 'am I too weak? Too unfeminine? Would father disapprove? Would Naruto-kun be disgusted?' Suddenly, opinions didn't…matter to her anymore. Just her, the fight, and a demon whose name she'd never learned. I really have to remedy that… a small, distracted part of her murmured, the fraction un-tinted by red, the part still logical and floating under the tide of Hinata's In-The-Zone mind.
The Hyuuga girls outstretched arm, prepared for a jyuuken strike, was suddenly gripped at her wrist—another hand whipping up to grip beneath her shoulder on her bicep, even as her foot (in place of her other hand that wouldn't move for shattered agony) kicked up to simply force Tsumibitoko to jump back and let go. It was too slow, and Hinata was catapulted—the demon girl bracing, heels digging in, hips shifting under her opponents center of gravity, and thrown effortlessly over shoulder, high into the air—crashing painfully to the ground after a world-spinning, gravity-shaking, gut-wrenching moment as the sky twirled and ground twisted from their natural alignment.
Hinata found herself flat on her back, unable to breathe, dull pain lancing down he spine and digging into her tailbone—so she could barely move, let alone groan as her protesting organs insisted.
After her mind finally stopped waltzing around the training field and returned to her skull, Hinata's disorientated brain sent its signals, and she struggled, as she always would, to her feet. It was a straining process, trying to figure out what the hell her body was doing and trying to get her brain to send the right signals to the right muscles and wow that tree's suddenly way to close did I stagger a bit? She finally regained her equilibrium, panting a little and wobbling.
Tsumibitoko simply regarded her; head cocked to the side, frustratingly poised, like a curious woodland creature—measuring her up with wary eyes—just standing there. The demon girl had an odd expression, like she had previously made some decision—come to some conclusion that she had been sure about—and Hinata wasn't sticking to the facts, to the script. A little puzzled, a tad frustrated, and all considering and evaluating at once.
The hate still burned strong in golden eyes.
"I'M…NOT…WEAK!"
There was a small pause as the clearing seemed to silence, Hinata panting a little after her final outburst and glaring with pumped byakugan eyes—only just now realizing that, despite it having been 'switched on' during the whole fight, some sort of odd…glowing golden shield that covered the other girls every contour was preventing her from seeing the demon girls chakra canals. Wait…not a shield…
…there were no chakra canals.
Hinata stood, forgetting her slowing panting, forgetting the fight and her aches and pains—utterly dumbstruck by this abnormal, unnatural phenomena standing before her like nothing was wrong.
She should be dead. A small, horrified, awed voice whispered hoarsely in her mind—summing up all of her sentiments in one sentence as she stared at the glowing, pulsating, writhing, burning mass of bright golden chakra, tinted a darker honey around the edges where it just…disappeared. Just faded into the nature and sky and earth around it, blending like some natural part of the habitat around it…like…a being of chakra…of the earth…
There were no chakra canals because the demon was chakra. A massive, vortex of unstoppable nature, a bright scorching plethora of energy that wouldn't stop moving. There were no containers, no restraints like the simple-but-complicated human system that expelled if you concentrated and was neatly contained in vines underneath the skin—no, this chakra was being emptied, wasted, as it was burned for energy and exorcised into its surroundings like…an endless…cycle…recycle. A part of the earth, a-a growth of the earth that lived off it, a rotating succession as she gained infinite energy from her surroundings and gave it back to be reused. The demon girl before Hinata wasn't so much chakra-through-and-through (molecule to atom), as a bloody filter for it—not a being, not an individual, just part of a bigger, greater whole. She wasn't so much as a thinking breathing humanoid-being, as a tree. A powerful tree. It was…quite unsettling. The Hyuuga girl suddenly, desperately, needed to sit down.
Holy Buddha on a stick. That same voice again conquered all possible vocabulary to give her the words that summed up this whole insane moment and situation.
"Cat got your tongue, Singer-san?" Tsumibitoko sneered, head still cocked in a parody of innocence—the thrill of the fight fading from both of them.
Yeah, Hinata's mind snarked immediately, even her thoughts shocked enough for them to sound anesthetized by surprise, still too struck-dumb to censor her brain and its automatic responses into something more befitting a Hyuuga heiress. "How are you alive?" for one. That would be a great start, clear the air and all before we start giggling, watching chick-flicks, swapping girly stories, flipping hair and eating chocolate daintily—
Hinata finally managed to quell her shock enough to regain her runaway, sarcasm-drenched thoughts. That's enough of that.
She decided to take the more diplomatic direction—figuring her demon was still a bit too defensive and hating to spill her wicked chakra secrets, even as Hinata's Hyuuga ingrained instincts chomped at the bit to interrogate, because seriously, Hyuuga see everything to do with chakra and I've never seen anything like this before, and ask what the hell's up with your chakra? and how does it work precisely? and oooh could you show me some jutsu so I can see how it channels or fluctuates while being expelled and used? and can you even do jutsu without the focus point and control that chakra canals provide?
"U-Uhm…" Hinata stuttered, blinking and licking dry lips distractedly, realizing her demon knew what effect she was having by the widening smirk on tanned mouth. "A-Ano…I-I…"
…Where was I?
…—Oh, right, angry at the complete lack of regard for human life and humans in general…uhh…uh…the hypocrisy?…Oh dang, it must have been pretty good to get me so angry…but, for the life of me all I can think of is glowing gold chakra—…
"O-Oh, yeah! I'm n-not weak!" Hinata's voice regained its vigor. Eyebrows drawn downwards in determination and subconsciously pulling into as much as a defensive pose as she could.
Tsumibitoko's jaw all but hit the ground.
"B-B-But—!" The demon girl took her unexpected turn to stammer, pointing a little rudely at Hinata. "Y-Y-You! Wh-…what kind of—?-!…What kind of fucking human are you?-!" She cried to the heavens, thudding into an (again) unexpected pile of Tsumibitoko on the ground, curled up slightly, knees almost on either side of her apparently sulking head, hands flopped on the ground between them. Hinata just stared, knocked completely off kilter (again) by the turn of events.
"Just when you think you've got them all figured out…!" Tsumibitoko muttered, almost petulant and bitter, "Damn unpredictable humans…how dare they do what I least expect…for shits and giggles…" was all Hinata caught.
"U-Uhmm…" the Hyuuga girl pursed her lips, eyebrows now skewered upwards, "I'm…n-not weak?"
Tsumibitoko snorted violently, her shoulders heaving upwards, surprising Hinata a little, leveling a look as flat as her voice in the paler girls' direction. "Evidently not as much as I thought. You are…adequate…for now. There's room for improvement, but your improvisation in battle is commendable, as is your agility. But, strength needs to be worked at, your tenacity is astounding, and your speed is…" her face twisted to something almost grudgingly reluctant, "quite impressive, though there's room for improvement. Whether you are good enough to appropriately apply these abilities is a whole other story."
"Uhm…" Slipped past Hinata's lips, eyes still a little wider than usual. Is she…complimenting…me…in a roundabout backhanded way? A small burst of warm, tentative pride suffused the Hyuuga girl's chest as she gently scratched her cheek in pleased confusion.
"One day, you might even be able to fight me while I'm serious."
Ah. Hinata deadpanned, hand flopping, sweatdropping at the merry brunette, pride's gone. She relished in the smile gifted upon her though, even if it was mocking exuberance in the vulpine grin, all teeth and no feeling—eerily reminiscent of Naruto's cheerful trademark. It was still a smile, not the warmth Hinata wanted again, but it was a smile, not a smirk.
"H-How g-gracious of y-you," slipped past her lips, a quiet mumble as dry as the desert as she pouted slightly. Hinata gave a shaky gasp, slapping a shocked, appalled hand over her mouth in horror. Tsumibitoko just blinked, stared at the dark-haired girl for a second, Hinata starting to stumble out apologies—remembering the flash of her father in golden eyes—then the brunette started laughing. Just laughing. That free, bubbly noise—like a burst of surprised, delighted fresh air—like there was nothing wrong in the whole world. And Hinata was reminded this wasn't her Otou-sama.
The only way to gain trust is to give it. Be yourself…just…let go.
The laughter choked off with an awkward cough—Hinata catching a slightly disgusted, 'WTF' look in golden eyes at the expressing of amusement, before that too was stuffed away into blank obscurity. The pang in Hinata's chest was all too obvious.
A similar pang rang up and down her arm, radiating pain through shattered bones. The Hyuuga girls lips parted on a silent scream-cum-yelp of pain, eyes widening as the numbing effects of adrenaline, subconscious ninja-trained pain-suppressing techniques and distraction wore off to remind her how busted up she was. A couple cracked ribs, a demolished arm—
That was as far as she got in her injury inventory (how had she missed half of that?) before her legs gave out beneath her, tumbling forwards and trying to brace with watery, pain-wrung muscles for the horrid impact no doubt about to jar her whole frame.
Impossibly warm arms hurriedly wrapped about her torso, gently lowering her to the ground before disappearing like they didn't want to touch her in the first place.
There was what seemed to be a hesitant pause as Hinata whimpered in agony—clutching her arm as delicately as possible—noises of unwilling worry and conflicting thought breaking the pause from above her. Then the unbelievably warm hands were back, spiraling comfort through her haze of pain as they flittered nervously over her, touching here and there like they didn't know what to do. Hinata felt that was probably true, her demon most likely healed way too quickly for her to ever have to worry about first-aid.
"U-Uhm Tsumibitoko stuttered, "O-Oh god, uh—Jesus Christ," her voice was shaking in response to seeing the girl in such broken anguish, Hinata's arm radiating unholy amounts of pain. The heiress had broken limbs before, but not to this shattered extent. "O-Okay, uhh, I know an anesthetic medical jutsu, just numbing the pain—it's the only one that was really useful to me anyway since I heal so fast," she muttered the last part before continuing, "I'll s-set the bones, okay? I promise it won't hurt, oh god," She whimpered when Hinata spasmed, her ribs reluctant to let her breathe as they tightened in delicate fractured throbbing around her lungs, "I-I'm so sorry," her voice sounded thick with emotion, making the Hyuuga girls pain intensify in guilt—Tsumibitoko was too far gone to even realize she was letting her emotions get away from her, at the point of apologizing. "I-I'll make it better, I promise."
The familiar cool invasion of healing chakra, the well-known hum in the air relaxed Hinata slightly—her body instinctively knowing, like muscle memory, that easing of the pain and repair was to follow. A twinge of relief whispered through her, feeling numbness seep upon her arm like a dead weight—enclosing her torso.
She hazed in and out of consciousness, barely feeling the hands on her, shifting her into a supported sitting position and slipping off her jacket carefully, hearing the tearing of cloth, the strange, irregular, numb jerking she'd feel in her arm (odd to not feel pain when she knew she should, like her nervous system was shot and not sending the right signals by the lack of hurting) as her bones were put back where they belonged, ribs supported by wraps of ripped cloth.
"Uh, that's the best I could do—I don't really know much about this kind of stuff…you might wanna see a medic and get a second opinion…" murmured through her blinking, dazed mind—the numbness still tingling through her, but wearing off just a little enough for her to feel the set aches, less potent now, not so much pains, just weak throbs.
Dragging her gaze to her demon, Hinata locked eyes with worried, defensive gold—blinking rapidly upon gleaning Tsumibitoko's now torn t-shirt. Where the demons shirt was once tied in a knot below her bosom it had obviously been unraveled and ripped to be used as Hinata's sling and bandages. Torn and ragged, the black slogan on white cotton was missing a line, leaving in a nonsense print; but bunched in the middle where it had been tied. Almost like a crop-top, but just a glimpse of smooth curves could be seen of a (Hinata flushed in embarrassment) black bra peeking out beneath the ripped material. The demon girl had obviously been rushing and in a hurry.
Three thoughts trailed through the Hyuuga heiresses mind. Huh, so, she didn't use my jacket like I thought and She really has no shame and She cares more than she lets on, being all worried like that and ruining the shirt she liked to sort out my injuries.
Warmth suffused Hinata's chest—sure it was a t-shirt she was trumping in importance, but it was still a step up—and she managed a weak, wan smile. A sigh of relief rewarded her, a small fond smirk tweaking her demons lips—before she jerked back with a disgusted frown and shot to her feet from the crouch by Hinata's head. As the brunette turned from the Hyuuga girl's line of vision Hinata let out a faltering sigh to herself, smile turning downwards in disappointment. Dang. Thought I'd made some progress. Of course not, it's too soon for me to hope.
She lolled her head to the side Tsumibitoko hadn't disappeared, staring despondently at the blue sky (like Naruto-kun's eyes, though not half as bright and vibrant, a small tender smile slowly returned to her features, warmth blossoming and filling her torso with the love she'd grown so addicted too, yet never getting old with its bittersweet one-sided ache) before pulling herself to her feet, trying to shake out the numbness without rattling her slung arm and wrapped ribs.
Hinata cocked her head, refusing to feel down from the almost-lack of progress, and smiled softly in thanks at her demon—who stood partly turned away from her with arms crossed and that deep-in-thought frown on her face, the thumb of her right hand rubbing her lower lip.
"Th-Thank-you," the heiress murmured sincerely.
Tsumibitoko just shot her an incredulous 'are you kidding me?' look. "I put you in that state dipshit. You shouldn't be thanking me."
"'Your welcome' w-would be a n-nice way to make up f-for it then, wouldn't it?" Hinata rejoined quietly, a slightly amused, kind tone to her words—unaffected by the truth and determined not to be.
"Hey! That sounded like—…Who the fuck said I was going to apologize?-!" Tsumibitoko bristled.
"N-No one. I n-never s-said you h-had to a-apologize. If i-it sounded l-like that, I'm s-sorry."
"Why the fuck are you apologizing?-!"
Hinata was unexpectedly enjoying this. It was rather entertaining.
Her demon just seemed to literally vibrate on the spot with anger, hands fisted by her sides.
"Whatever." She spat viciously, Hinata just leaning back a bit and swallowing—still affected by the ache that came with being treated that way by her bond. It hurt whether she wanted it to or not. She barely knew how to act in a way that wouldn't incite such a response, it was…confusing, hurtful and frustrating. "I really couldn't give a toss right now." A hand shoved through flyaway, tied back earthen locks as the demon turned and began to move away, slim ponytail whipping like a smooth rope behind her. "I've gotta go, you've filled my quota. I have better places to be now. See you tomorrow—same time, same place. And I'll have questions."
Then she disappeared, what sounded somehow akin to a threat hanging in the air, like smoke on the wind. Hinata didn't even have time to protest or say goodbye.
Puffing out a disgruntled sigh and brow crinkling slightly in disapproval (not even realizing she was doing as such), the Hyuuga girl shifted—testing the quality that her injuries were fixed with.
She hung her head a little, black tendrils of inky hair slipping over her shoulders. She felt empty now Tsumibitoko was gone. It was almost unbearable.
Hinata kicked the ground petulantly, "Damn meanie demon." She muttered, before gasping and clapping her free hand over her mouth, glancing around like she was expecting her father to jump out of the bushes, point at her in his usual imperious fashion, and crow a triumphant 'ah-ha! Disgracing the clan with such foul mouth-ery—such a disregard for Hyuuga decorum with childishness and…personality!*Insert sneer*
Hinata wouldn't be surprised if he snuck around after her, tip-toeing along like some bad cartoon baddie and waiting for such an opportunity.
She giggled, covering her mouth and eyes squinted shut, at the idea of her father, Hiashi Hyuuga, sneaking of all 'dishonorable' things. It was preposterously amusing—especially the thought of him bothering to waste his time on her!
The heiress's laughter faded, and she rubbed at the missing spot in her chest. She sighed. The emptiness Tsumibitoko's absence invoked sure was persistent. Hinata suspected it was something she'd have to get used to.
Sighing one last time, she glanced in the direction her demon had disappeared—I still don't have a name to put to that face—and hurried out the training ground, trudging to the hospital, making sure to avoid the bustling main-streets and markets. She stuck to the back-roads, slipping among the shadows of the homey, ram-shackle buildings that were Konoha's trademark.
After brushing off concerns and stuttering her way through excuses Hinata quickly assured the medics it was a training related injury—that she'd tried to channel chakra to add force to her punch and screwed up a little. The chakra reaction had thrown her back into a tree, cracking her ribs and gaining cuts and bruises, shattered her arm from all the chaotically dispelled energy. She was really getting good at this lying thing. It made her feel ill. They were only worried about her—it had been almost sweet, the way they flustered about her with concerned faces. Yet, she'd needed to lie to them. Again.
Hinata was lucky really. Quickly being healed up, having to do arm and breathing exercises—there was a sudden commotion of panic from the emergency room. A botched ANBU mission. It was horrific and bloody, two going into violent cardiac arrest, and Hinata ended up holding a cat-masked woman—offering comfort and a warm body (as she knew that was sometimes all that you could take, all that was needed)—as the woman rocked back and forth in a ball, crying on the cold infirmary tiles behind delicately painted white porcelain. It must've been something awful, for such stoic people to collapse so dramatically—her teammate's half dead, her mission failed, and Hinata managed to catch snippets of the jobs actual contents through the tears, it had made her pale with heartache and horror. But it served as good enough distraction so that no medic had a chance to think, let alone ask, where the Hyuuga heiress found someone to patch her up before finding her way to the hospital.
Hinata finally, reluctantly, handed the ANBU woman—who'd eventually fallen asleep from fatigue, emotional stress and chakra exhaustion in her arms, tears soaking from beneath a china façade into a torn and bloodied Konoha vest—over to a subdued, grateful, and tight-faced medic. Hinata had staggered back to the Hyuuga compound in a state of grief and shock, her jacket smeared with the iron, throat-clenching scent of blood. She was just glad (somewhere that wasn't recovering from shock) that she made it to her room without a branch member hurrying to fetch her for her father.
Her mind flashed back to the grief-stricken ANBU woman, rocking and shaking feebly in her arms with some sort of repressed memory, eyes glinting from beneath porcelain and locked tearfully on her brothers-in-all-but-blood as they were carted away amid shouts and beeping machinery. No doubt to end up in the morgue anyhow.
(Despite herself, Hinata saw—in a gut-wrenching vision of a desperately bleak future—her own eyes beneath that mask. She saw her own boys on those gurneys, wheeled away to face the shinigami, their blood staining the floor. Shino. Kiba. Akamaru.
Hospitals always remind her of death and the possibility of death.
But no. Those weren't her eyes and those weren't her teammates. The fearful paranoia-fueled flash receded and reality seeped in and all Hinata saw was a broken woman and two equally broken men. Only in different ways.)
No doubt more comrades to add to the memorial stone. More gone from the Konoha ninja family. More brothers and sisters in arms to grieve for.
And suddenly, all she could see was those cold, hating golden irises—hiding all that she felt she may never know.
Hinata softly closed her bedroom door behind her, paused, then slid down it, inky hair trailing above her while lilac eyes resolutely held off tears. Her bedroom contrasted sharply with the emergency room (of what felt like moments before)—all flashing red beeping, shouting, shattered ANBU masks, the horror roaring in her ears and clinical tiles. This was silent, the hospital a bare echo through her head in the quiet of the Hyuuga Compound. Like a grave.
The emptiness still sat like a cold rock at her core.
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THE NEXT MORNING
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Fire Country, Konoha—Village Hidden in the Leaves, Hyuuga Clan Compound, Main Branch Wing, Heiress Hinata Hyuuga's sleeping quarters
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Hinata woke with an idea.
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"You still haven't told me your name. We made a deal. Question for question."
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AN: This chapters shorter than the others, but it took so, damn, long to write that I'm personally preening for actually finishing the fucker. Abrupt ending, maybe, but I'm totally not to blame. It's the distracting voices in my head telling me to write other stuff and procrastinate. *shakes fist righteously* Damnnnn theeeeeem…!