Once again, I'm touched by all the reviews I've received. Thank you very much for taking the time to read and review!
Revised on June 29, 2007.
Part III:
Intervention
"There is no cure for birth and death save to enjoy the interval."
- George Santayana
Hanabi found herself outside Hinata's room for the third time that week. Like a ritual she was slowly becoming accustomed to, she slid the door open and padded inside. She slides down onto the floor quietly, flattening her back against the cold, metal legs of her sister's chair.
She brought her knees to her chin and curled her arms around her legs. The edge of Hinata's furry white carpet tickled her toes. She sighed, tucking herself into an even tighter ball.
The new Hyuuga heir would never admit it out loud, but she missed her sister; missed her soft footsteps as she flitted about the house like a ghost; missed the feminine outline of the silent figure that tended to the flowers in the garden every morning; missed the gentle smiles she would shoot Hanabi from across the table at mealtimes. Hanabi missed Hinata. Truly, sorely, despondently and desperately, for she was the only sibling and mother figure she had.
The two weren't particularly close; they didn't share tender, affectionate moments or fought like hell was breaking open like most siblings. Sometimes Hanabi forgot Hinata even existed, so when the news of her death came, she thought, what difference would it make?
But it did make a difference. Hiashi celebrated, Hanabi's status was raised, the Hyuuga main branch celebrated their new, strong heir and the branch house mourned for the loss of the sweet, gentle girl who cast a caring eye for them, the weak and abandoned. The only heir they had who considered them not as servants, but family.
And Hanabi was lonely – lonelier, even.
She was lonely to begin with – her mother passed away shortly after her birth, her sister was enrolled into the Academy soon after, where she spent most of her time, and her father was always preoccupied with the administrative duties of clan head. Neji resented her at the time – hated Hanabi and Hinata and all of the main house members for sending his father off to die. There were no other children her age with whom she could have played with.
Hanabi was lonely. Then, her training began. She was supposedly better than Hinata – born to supersede her in every way, and that was when she felt like she was truly alive.
She built her life around training – mastered every technique that came her way; executed each move perfectly; vied for her father's smiling face and craved his disappointed frown directed at her sister whenever he compared them. She lived to please, and she was happy.
But she was also angry at the time; angry that she wasn't born first even though the title of clan head suited her more than it did Hinata. She was better than her in every aspect – she was stronger, better at ninjutsu, her Byakugan was sharper and she met every expectation placed upon her slender shoulders.
Yet, why wasn't she born first? It was in those times that she had sided with Neji – curse their fates.
And what made Hanabi even more furious was that Hinata didn't seem to care. She still smiled, laughed and was comfortable as a back-up for her team mates even though their father had made it perfectly clear that a Hyuuga was never meant to be back-ups for others. Hyuugas always had leading roles.
So why was Hinata so content? It infuriated and mystified the younger Hyuuga to no end.
Then one day, she got her answer. In the autumn of her thirteenth year of being. It was Hinata's eighteenth autumn.
It was during teatime – their father was at a council meeting, Neji was on a mission and the Hyuuga sisters were alone together for once. Hinata had made tea and rice cakes for them both. Hanabi could still remember the exact shade of the falling leaves that autumn; leaves the tree they sat beneath shed.
Their conversation had seemed civil enough – Hanabi initiated it. She had asked about Hinata's last mission; it was a failure, according to what their father had told her, because Hinata's weakness had been a burden to her team.
Hinata only smiled, agreeing that it was a failure but was glad they had aborted the mission. If they had kept going and retrieved the forbidden scroll stolen by the enemy, Kiba would have lost his life for sure – he had been poisoned earlier on. It was on Hinata's insistence that they gave up on the chase and returned to Konoha.
Hinata was following one of Naruto's mantras again – "Ninja who break the rules are trash, but ninja who abandon their friends are scum."
Hanabi did not understand; could not understand. It was an absolute failure – never mind the conditions of which brought it. She wasn't raised to understand such petty circumstances – all she cared about was the outcome.
So, she lost her temper.
"How can you keep smiling like that?" she vaguely recalled shouting. "You always disobey Father's orders! You never excel the way he wants you to! You're not growing into the ideal leader of the Council! How the hell can you keep on smiling like that? You're a failure!"
Hanabi recalled it clearly – she had flung her teacup at her sister. Hinata didn't dodge it, merely closed her eyes and flinched at the impact of the clay smashing against her forehead. Blood trickled down her cheeks.
Yet she smiled. Yet Hanabi's anger did not subside.
"Hanabi," she had said so softly that it was a miracle the younger Hyuuga calmed down enough to strain her ears. "It's alright even if you don't understand me, but I'm happy, Hanabi. I'm happy because," she looked straight into her sister's eyes, "I feel like I'm living the life I want. I'm happy. I feel like my life is my own."
That was when Hanabi left.
She had understood what Hinata meant – she had insinuated that Hanabi was the true failure; not as a Hyuuga, but as a human being. She had let others control her life; had let others define the meaning of being alive and dictate what she should feel happy about.
She was a shell of a human being. Hinata was not. Maybe she once was, but she was one no longer.
Hinata was full – she had a compassionate heart that was capable of deep affection, even for her ungrateful sister. She had friends who truly cared for her – enjoyed her as a human being, not because her bloodline was simply helpful during scouting missions. She loved. Hanabi knew about her sister's crush on Uzumaki Naruto. She was loved. Hanabi didn't miss the tender glances their cousin Neji sometimes shot her.
Hinata was alive, and she was successful at it. Hanabi was a success in the Council's opinion, but she had failed as a human being. She had died even before she knew what it was like to be alive.
But this time, she was alive and Hinata was dead. Dead, dead, dead. The dead could not live. The living could die, but the dead cannot live. The living die and the dead do not live.
Hinata died. Hanabi lived.
The brunette assessed Hinata's room. The servants had tried to clean out her room, but Hanabi stopped them. She didn't want her sister's things to be touched, even though she wouldn't need them any longer.
Removing Hinata's belongings from the Hyuuga household was like erasing her existence from the face of the planet.
Hinata's belongings remained untouched since Hanabi's intervention. Not a book was out of place on her shelf; not a pen on the table was placed back in its holder. Everything was exactly as it was when Hinata last touched them.
Hanabi crawled across the soft carpet and sank into Hinata's laid-out futon. The sheets were strewn on the floor from when she had struggled against her assailant. The brunette embraced her sister's pillow, inhaling the scent that still lingered there.
Lavender and sweet pea flowers. Hinata's scent.
The fourteen-year-old girl let go of the pillow abruptly. She didn't want to taint Hinata's scent; didn't want it to shy away from the unfamiliar affection lavished upon it by the love-inhibited Hyuuga.
Rolling onto her side, Hanabi spotted a familiar stuffed panda toy a few meters away. She had given it to her sister for her tenth birthday. She reached for and hugged it, enjoying Hinata's faint scent on the toy. She was touched that her sister had kept it for all these years, even though she was far too old to be playing with stuffed animals and even after Hanabi had mistreated and belittled her.
Hinata really did love.
Panda clutched in her embrace, Hanabi exited the room as silently as she had entered it. She didn't plan on returning the toy – Hinata was dead; she didn't need it any longer.
It was Kurenai's voice that broke her resolve, and in a way, perhaps strengthened it. Built a new resolve in Hinata's heart and fortified it.
Hinata thought she was doing the right thing. By killing the unborn child, she would be saving it – saving it from a cursed fate as a pawn of a father who didn't love him; saving it from a life as a killing machine; saving it from an existence devoid of love and emotion, which is essentially negating its status as a living human.
So she was going to kill the child, and she with it; her first and last action of love for the cursed foetus.
She could have just forced a miscarriage – she didn't need to die with the child. It was selfish of her to commit suicide, she knew. The Uchiha would have an excuse to go back to Konoha to abduct another female Hyuuga. It was a coward's escape route.
But Hinata couldn't go on living like this. She couldn't go on living as Sasuke's sex kitten, his breeding bitch. She couldn't. She wouldn't.
Suicide was the coward's way out, and the abductor's excuse for obtaining a new captive.
But couldn't Hinata have this one, simple thing just for herself? One, simple decision she could make herself?
Living was too hard. Dying was easy. That was Hinata's decision, but she couldn't act upon it.
She was too weak. Far too weak. Pathetic, even. She couldn't kill herself.
It was Kurenai's fault. But she wasn't even there – was Hinata was going crazy? It was the older woman's voice that stopped her – imaginary as it was, it never felt more real to her.
"I wouldn't kill the child."
Her words were simple, but Hinata couldn't empathize with the meaning. Kurenai had loved her child's father. Hinata despised hers. That was the difference between them, yet Hinata was bowled over by the thoughts that erupted inside her head when she heard that voice.
She had considered the seed in her womb as her child; she had never done so before.
Hinata had thought about it countless times in the past – this child was never going to be loved. Not by his father. Not by his mother. He was going to grow up devoid of love and emotions, stripped of those shields that could protect him but could be broken much easier at such a young age. Hinata wasn't even sure if she could even call what he was going to become as human. Biologically, yes. Spiritually? No.
It was these emotions Sasuke deemed weak, therefore he would get rid of them in his child. She knew that – had seen her father attempt to do so with his younger daughter.
Sasuke's child would be strong if the shields were taken away. Hinata's child could be weak if she fortified those shields; made them thicker and bigger than the child himself, until he would topple over from the weight and size of the barriers. She could suffocate him. She could love him. And he would be weak.
And Sasuke would be angered. It seemed like the perfect revenge, the perfect reason for continuing her tainted existence.
And with that, Hinata was happy.
To be continued...
End note: I was very dissatisfied with the original ending of this chapter, and a handful of you, my readers, shared the same sentiments. I also found it too fluffy and it clashed with the setting I tried so hard to achieve, thus, the change.
