There are three types of people in this world.
Hinata faintly remembered her mothers words during their last serious conversation, while she lay there in her comatose state, the light beeping of the heart monitor and the heavy pacing footsteps - who she guessed to be her father's - serving as a calming rhythm.
It showed her that she was't dead.
There are those who, when faced with a problem, follow the system, and either get what they expect or get stepped over by those with more power...
She could hear her father's steps quicken then briskly stop. Hinata could hear his harsh tone of voice and the staccato musicality, however his words could not be made out at all.
Then there are those who go against the system and either get what they want or are rejected and all their efforts become in vain...
There was another voice in the room, she soon figures. One which was calm and deep like a flame. It was not one she recognised, but it was soothing and she was greatful for it.
Finally, there are those few who are mad enough to manipulate the situation so that they get all they want, before anyone ever realises their intentions...
The soft tones of Man-Nee-chan and Nabi-nee-chan's voices could be heard, drowning out the others', calming her father and the mysterious strangers' voice. . . .
While I am gone, be of the third type, my beautiful children, who I love so much...
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Be like ninjas or rather, like the food poisoning your uncle Natsu got last Christmas from that mince pie...
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Sweet, creamy, harmless really...
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Until the morning came, and he locked himself in the bathroom because he started to have hallucinations about cannibal chickens...
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With a mattress in the bathtub...
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And of course there were those creepy pink vampire rubber-ducks he stuck to the ceiling. I don't think anyone was quite sure what they were for...
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Or why he dressed them up like an army of Elvis'...
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Thinking back, Hinata realised that it wasn't a strange conversation, but in fact one that was rather typical. Her mother was a strong, bizarre woman who saw the good in everyone and everything, and wasn't afraid to discuss her past experiences. She wanted to share her life with others, to make them apart of it. She grew up in a big family - it was what she was used to, what she wanted.
'But what do I want?'
It wasn't a question Hinata asked herself very often. It wasn't one she needed to because she always felt she had everything she wanted. But now... But now she felt like she had next to nothing. Her friends, her comrads, her family...well, she has her mothers family and she's always known that the Hyuga elders resent her because of her mother...but the 'gang' she grew up with, fought with, laughed with - experienced life with, they were all... Gone. So what is left in Konoha? What's keeping her here? . . . She didn't have an answer... Maybe she should take Man-nee-San up on that offer...
It was pitch-black when Hinata finally woke from her comatose state. The moonlight lingered in the room, making her surroundings seem as if they were engulfed by mist...or in the case of this specific room, dust, which was probably why her father was shouting so much before hand.
Even though she longed to see her family, a part of her was relieved she woke up alone, so she could properly get her head around everything that ha-
"It's good to see you're awake."
Or maybe she wasn't alone after all.
The deep, rich voice came from the figure, slumped on the bed-side chair she had only just noticed. He groggily woke from his slumber, pealing a white blanket - what could only be seen through a dark, tight short-sleeved T-shirt - from a very well toned body.
Damn, I think I'm drooling.
The stranger raised himself from his chair and it was only then, in the moonlight, that she could make out his flaming red hair, porcelain skin and entrancing green eyes. Her attention was immediately drawn to the blood-red tattoo imprinted on his forehead - it was the kanji for love. It was quite an odd sight, to see such a romantic symbol on such a typically looking bad boy, with his wild hair, studs lining his left ear and he wore only black and red.
"How are you feeling," he asked her, pressing two fingers to her forehead, "You seem a little warm, perhaps I should go g-"
"No." She said a little too quickly blushing even harder now, "I-I mean, I-I'm fine r-really. It's probably just caused stress f-from the accident."
He realised then, he liked it when she stuttered - the way she tapped her index fingers together and how she'd blush and look away. It was really quite cute.
And kind of sexy.
"Ummm... If you dont mind me asking, w-who are you?"
"Sabaku no Gaara," he shook her hand as he introduced himself, "I was right behind you as your car lost control. I was the one who took you out of your car. I managed to salvage your backpack. I think your father still has it, but I don't think anything else from the car is...", he paused to thnk of the right word, "salvageable"
"I'm really sorry you had to go through all that trouble Sabaku-San. I hope it wasn't too difficult to get me out."
"I appreciate the concern, Hyuga-san, but I'm just glad I got you out in time. And please, call me Gaara."
"Thank you, and please call me Hinata, Gaara-kun, but what do you mean by 'just in time?'"
"Your car blew up."
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Wait...
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What?
Hinata seemed to be in a state of complete awe of the possible consequences of the situation.
She could have died.
They could have been dragging her remains out of that car - that stupid car she dreams of bashing in with a hammer. No, not even remains, ashes more like. The only reason why she was in that hospital room, internally freaking out about what could have been, was the red-headed bad boy to her left, who was eyeing her carefully trying to figure out what she was think and what he should say next. Instead of speaking or waiting for him to speak first, she showed her gratification with a simple gesture.
She hugged him.
She held him tightly, and as she had her eyes closed the whole time, she missed the light pink tinge that crept on his face. Nothing was said for a while, there was simply an unspoken gratitude and comfort that lingered in the air as the rain poured down outside, the raindrops lightly knocking on the windows, as if to draw their attention to the vague reflection in the window. It was the reflection of a beginning. Of what the beginning was going to lead to, neither knew. But, for now they were simply content in being in each other's presence talking the night away about betrayals, bizarre drunken flashbacks and broken friendships.
As the rain began to calm, and as their eyelids began to become heavier and heavier, the two newly found souls drifted off into the first peaceful sleep they've had in a very, very long time.
