A/N: Oh my word, this has been a long hiatus! In fact, I just assumed that my readers had all forgotten this lonely little story, just as I had. That is, until today when I opened my mailbox and found a lovely review from kitsune-chan1010 that convinced me to carry on once more. Bless you, m'dear—you sparked my dying creativity into action again.
I really like this chapter, especially the beginning descriptive section. Almost as much as I dislike the first few chapters, actually. But then, again, I always go through phases where I hate everything I've ever written/drawn/performed. It's an artist's curse.
Alas, I knew we must come to this point, but I never expected it would be so soon. Now comes the truth: In the Disney movie, one of my favorites and the main basis of this story, there are enchanted candlesticks, clocks, teapots, wardrobes, roses, feather dusters, spoons, plates, etc. As charming as this is in the film, I am trying to go a different direction with my version to make it slightly truer to the Naruto-verse. So, there will be no talking candlesticks, clocks, teapots or wardrobes. There will be a few characters that fit in Naruto-wise that will represent these characters, but none of them will be enchanted household items, and none of them will have hilarious French accents or Angela's Lansbury's lovely singing voice. Actually, I doubt that there will be any characters singing at all in my story.
However, I have some good news for any of you who are devoted to the movie and don't appreciate my straying from it: There is another GaaHina Beauty and The Beast that follows Disney's movie almost word for word, as far as I read, and Mrs. Potts, Lumiere and Cogsworth are all played by some of our favorite Naruto characters, and are actually written as a teapot, candlestick and clock. So if you're set on that, you can search for it, and I'm sure you'll find it. For myself, the thought of Temari as a kindly old teapot was enough to turn me off that idea for good, even though I gave up toying with it at the very beginning of developing this story.
Oh, and I almost forgot: there is a brief hint of a one-sided KibaHanabi at some point. I actually adore this pairing, though I'm not quite sure why, but I thought I'd warn my dear readers, just in case a few of them are allergic to crack pairings, which is highly unlikely as they are reading a GaaHina fic.
-IndigoSkye
If ever there was a place that could be described as a manifestation of despair, it could only be the palace of the Tanuki. The darkness was not caused by the condition of the citadel itself: The furnishings were far from sparse—indeed, not an expense had been spared in decorating the immense rooms. Elaborate wall-hangings and masterfully crafted sculptures, paintings and candelabras left no corner without an exquisite, tasteful flair to it. Not a leak pervaded the high ceilings; no mold or dampness soaked the rich carpets, and if there were ever vermin foolish enough to venture inward, it was whispered that the monster who dwelt inside merely made use of them as an entrée.
No, it was the silent, brooding gloom of The Hidden Castle, as it had been christened rather unimaginatively years before, which could bring down even the highest of cheerful spirits. The tacit hopelessness that characterized not only the dwelling itself, but all who made their home there, ebbed solely from the Master who found refuge behind its walls.
And it was underneath this shadow that the bright soul of Hyuuga Hanabi had fallen.
For days and days, she had clung on to hope, though what was she hoping for she had never truly been certain. Perhaps it was rescue—she had briefly indulged in a fantasy of Kiba bursting into her dim prison cell, face glowing with determination, courage and- while she was still daydreaming- a deep, pure, tender and passionate affection. He would break the binding, chafing shackles off her ankles and wrists with his bare hands, pick her up in a sweeping motion, and carry her off into the sunset.
But as her food supply dwindled, along with the daily visits from the housekeeper- a tall, stern woman with eyes like cold, blunt jade and lips firmly set in an iron jaw- Hanabi's fantasies turned more practical. Not her beloved Kiba, but a group of Chuunins with tracking nin-dogs and windmill shurikens to do battle with the fiend that lurked somewhere upstairs.
The hours became longer and longer as hunger clawed at her insides, the pain filling her mind, drowning out thoughts of anything else. The nights were unbearable, too restless to sleep, too exhausted to move, while footsteps scraped on the ceiling above her, pacing endlessly until daybreak when the sound faded away, taking even that company from her.
Sometimes, she could overhear scattered conversations, the only glimpses into the life of her captors that she received. Much of their speech was muffled through the walls that surrounded her on almost every side, but as her sight dimmed and her mind fogged, she gained painful awareness and clarity of each sound.
There were two voices she knew better than the others. Both were deep and rough, as nearly all the voices were, but one had a distinctly feminine quality in her inflections. Hanabi gradually decided that it was the voice of the grim housekeeper who still stopped by her cell from time to time, though the woman never spoke to Hanabi during those visits. The other she had no face to place it with; only the name- "Kankuro," an inhospitably foreign one to her ears, unlike the friendly, familiar names of home. These two spoke often in hushed voices outside her cell, and sometimes she even caught herself mentioned in their discussions, though never by her name, which she was struggling to remember more and more these days.
"He's been more impatient recently." (Hanabi had come to learn that all inhabitants of the castle referred to their master as "he" or "him.") It was the woman (Kankuro sometimes referred to her as Tema-niichan, so the two must be related somehow).
"It's the whole business with the girl. I don't get it, Tema—it's crazy, even for him."
"I asked him last night; He says she's not the right one and some crap about 'another will come'. Hn."
"Baka!"
"Sh!" The tense note in Temari's voice sparked Hanabi's interest, and she began paying closer attention. "Keep it down! He's just a floor or so above us for the love of…"
Kankuro muttered something Hanabi couldn't catch. She strained against her bonds to get as near to the bars as possible, trying to hear Temari's response.
Then—"I don't get him, Tema. Fate dumps this pretty kid on his doorstep, begging for a place to stay, and what does the moron do? Offer her a room? Throw her a banquet with live entertainment? Propose? No. No! Because that would be too easy for Gaara the Great, Gaara the Powerful; Gaara the Magnificent Blockhead."
"Shut up!" she hissed, violently urgent. "Kankuro, I don't pretend to understand him, and I certainly don't trust Shukaku's 'guidance.' But I do know better than to question his judgment."
"Yeah, yeah," the invisible Kankuro replied sullenly. He exhaled before continuing on a whinier note. "But why did we get sucked into this? It's not as though we killed Yashamaru in a temper fit."
"No, but don't we hold some responsibility? For indulging his caprices, his temper; for making him who he is."
"I know." The bitterness in his voice was almost tangible. "I just… I want this to end! Not only for me, Tema, but for you. For all of us. When do we get to live normal lives outside this dungeon of a castle? I want to be free again, my own man with my own hopes and dreams to pursue, not bound in eternal servitude to my psycho jinchuuriki younger brother."
Temari sighed deeply, with more than just a hint of concurrence between Kankuro and her self. "Don't we all?" she said, acrimony surrounding her words like a coat of paint. He grunted in response. "But we've got to hold on, just a little while longer."
How long ago that conversation took place, Hanabi was unsure. Her sense of time had been warped by the lengthy absence of substantial meals and the raging fever that distorted her consciousness.
But for some reason, the dialogue kept replaying in her mind. "He says she's not the right one and some crap about 'another will come'."
Another will come.
And so the dim spark of hope was rekindled, the faint flicker that kept her hanging on to life, even as her senses deteriorated and the shadows consumed her.
Another will come.
Hinata.
In the delusions of her fever, Hanabi tosses in and out of dreams, the line between waking and sleeping blurred by her misty perception of reality. Sometimes she dreams of home, and waking to the morning sunshine, something she has almost forgotten. Other times, her mind wanders through the palace while her body lies prostrate in the cell. But then, as the dank breath of death tickles her skin, hovering over her like a waiting carrion bird, there comes a different dream, beautiful and yet terrible, hoping and despairing all at once.
"Hello? Is anyone there? P-please, I'm looking for my sister!"
"H-Hinata? Is that you?" Her voice is unaccustomed to speaking, and sounds as though she is being strangled. Her tongue and lips are unsure as to how they form words; it has been so long…
"Hanabi!" Her eyes can barely open, but through tiny slits of vision, she makes out the form of her beloved sister.
"How did you find me?" Soft, warm hands find her own and clasp them through the bars—perhaps this is not a dream after all.
"Oh!" -A sharp gasp-"Your hands are like ice! We have to get you out of here."
"Hina, you must leave this place." Through the flood of joy at her sister's presence, something reminds Hanabi that danger is still nearby, a danger she would not wish on Hinata.
"Who's done this to you?" Hinata quivers with rage and pain as she notices for the first time the protruding bones, the blood on her dry, parched skin, the dimness in her sunken eyes.
"There's no time to explain." She hacks suddenly, and blood spills from her lips to the floor. "You must go, now!" Speaking is pure agony, but somehow she has to warn Hinata about him!
"I won't leave you!" The adamancy in her declaration is surprising: who knew onii-chan had such hidden strength? But as much as Hanabi longs to go with her, to leave this place, she knows she is too weak and ill.
An abrupt chill passes from the comforting hands to her frail, cold ones. "Who's there?" Hinata calls, the old fear returning to her voice. "I know someone's there; who are you?"
"The master of this castle." The harsh, cavernous tone is strange and frightening to Hinata, but to the prisoner, who knows it well, the fear is far greater.
"Then, you're the one responsible for this! Please, release my sister at once."
"She entered my domain uninvited and now, she'll suffer the consequences." The source of the voice is still hidden, lurking in the shadows somewhere nearby.
"But she's dying!" Hinata pleads, tears welling in her colorless eyes.
"Then she should not have trespassed here." Impassive and unfeeling, the voice sounds menacingly closer.
"Please, I'll do anything," she says, barely a whisper.
"There's nothing you can do." The cold dismissal echoes in the gloom, crueler than any physical strike to the face or kick in the ribs. It gobbles up Hanabi's rising hopes, licks the bones clean, and leaves only a sickly void in their place.
But then, a current of determination comes coursing into her body, flowing from Hinata's hands- clammy with sweat and fright but warm once more- before her sister gently pulls her fingers free. Blurry and distant, Hinata's shadowy form slowly straightens, and turns to face the voice, or at least, her best guess as to its location. Slender shoulders heave with a deep inward breath, back stiffens, and hands that shake like the Earth in Armageddon clench into fists that shake like the Earth in Armageddon, but are fists all the same.
Hanabi sees, through her blindness, the desperate last stand of courage that throws her sister's chin forward, steels her jaw line and carries her brave words through the darkness, with not a quaver of fear left to shame them.
"Take me instead."