Disclaimer: Blacknbluesiren does not own Naruto! The end!

A/N: I am so sorry . life got insanely busy. I didn't stop writing for TTCF, but I never actually managed to POST anything! Horrible, I know!

This ficlet tackles the relationship between the Hyuuga children, but this time more from Hiro's POV because I didn't really give him much depth in the last Hyuuga centric story. Not 100 satisfied with it, but it turned out better than I originally feared

Widespread Brightness

Names had a very strong significance in the Hyuuga household. Hinata meant "sunshine", Hanabi "fireworks". In the House of the Rising Sun, light was a nearly indelible symbol. Even Hiro, whose name meant "widespread brightness" was part of that symbolic tradition.

He wondered, then, why his cousin was named for thunder.

He supposed it was because of her presence. It was impossible not to notice Nariko. For one thing, she was beautiful: a prime example of a Hyuuga kunoichi. Only twelve, she was already tall and willowy, with a long fall of dark hair, sharp angular features, and prominent pearly eyes. Hiro was both proud of her and exasperated—it was incredibly difficult to be fending off curious boys at all hours of the day when they were at Academy. For another, she was loud. Not vocally, for it was unbecoming of a Hyuuga to rant and scream, but when Nariko spoke her voice carried and people listened. She had an unquestionable air of authority about her and people knew better than to contradict her.

He also supposed it could be because of her style of fighting. Nariko, for whatever reason, could not do anything gently. This surprised many, for her father was a master of the Gentle Fist technique, gliding like air with his every movement. For the longest time, Nariko could not master this technique, largely because she was too forceful, too loud. Hiro would watch her practice and practice, destroying practice dummy after practice dummy with strikes that were too wild, too hard, too misdirected. She was thunderous.

Hiro knew that, for the longest time, his mother was looked down upon by the Clan. She was seen as meek, timid, and a failure because she did not have a hateful bone in her body. He also knew that his uncle had held a certain measure of disdain for her, angry that his talent was hindered by the curse seal that used to cause so many problems in the clan. Hiro rubbed the white scar on his forehead and smiled mirthlessly. His mother had done away with the curse seal as soon as she ascended position as Clan Head, and then had very firmly done away with anyone who opposed her in that respect.

His mother was also quite accomplished with the lighter arts of the Hyuuga fighting style. She flowed like water, with precise chakra control and a fluidity of motion that was envied by many. Hiro had inherited that affinity to be like water, a talent for which he was grateful every day because he was not a strong hitter, and needed that precise chakra control to be an effective opponent.

When he thought about it carefully, he realized that he and Nariko complemented each other. She was thunderous, a hard hitter, blindingly fast, but lacking in precision. He was liquid light, flitting and dancing and killing with careful hits, but lacking in force needed to launch a direct attack.

Interesting.

Hiro ducked under the awning of the dojo and looked out in to the courtyard. It was early fall, and a cold drizzle was keeping most of Konoha's citizens inside where it was warm and dry. However, most was not all, and Hiro could only shake his head and smile.

Thunder rumbled overhead, and Nariko rumbled across the ground, every strike of her hands sending up a shower of wood chips and sawdust as she decimated one post after another. Chakra exploded from her fingertips, rendering them raw and bloody. Hiro winced as she plowed one hand through a particularly thick post—had it been a human body, the chakra overload probably would have caused it to explode. As it was, he watched wood and water fly across the courtyard as Nariko stumbled to a halt, cradling her now injured hand. Hiro took this as his cue to enter.

"Nariko?"

She looked up, strands of dark hair falling out of her ponytail and into her face, and smiled grimly.

"Hey. Is Aunt Hinata around? I think I broke my hand again." She held up the damaged appendage and Hiro winced. The fingers were curled in painfully, and he could see the burns where too much chakra had exploded from the tenketsu. He shook his head.

"She's in a meeting with the Hokage right now. Come on, I'll take you to the clinic." He offered her his arm and she took it with her uninjured hand.

"Ever the gentleman, huh?"

He just smiled at her and she grinned back.

"We need to think of a different training method for you," he commented off-handedly as they walked down the muddy road. Beside him, he felt Nariko tense, and then sigh with something like defeat.

"No kidding. I'm not improving at all."

"I wouldn't say that," Hiro shook his head. "Your aim has improved dramatically and your strikes are certainly deadly—please don't put your hand through anyone's chest at the Academy, though, that'd be hard to explain." She chuckled, winced at the pain it caused her hand, and nudged him with her hip in a silent admonishment. Hiro continued.

"You just fight a bit differently than Uncle Neji or Mother, or me for that matter. We'll just have to modify the Gentle Fist a bit to make it work for you. Mother did it. We just have to find a way to incorporate your hard-hitting with chakra control so that you aren't ruining your hands every time you hit something."

"That would be nice," Nariko agreed as they reached the clinic. Hiro pulled the door open for her and they ducked in out of the rain. While Hiro went to sign her in, Nariko took a seat on the bench and observed.

He lived up to his name. Hiro was small, even by Hyuuga standards. Slight in stature and quiet in temperament, he had a frail look about him. People tended to dismiss him as weak, at first. It was one of the reasons she liked her cousin so—he was deceptively strong. Nariko appreciated the art of deception, being the ninja-in-training she was. More, though, she appreciated his kindness, his good nature. Hyuuga children were naturally competitive, and more than once she had observed, and even partaken, in sparring with her cousin and plowing him through the dirt. Every time, he would climb back to his feet, a smile on his face, and get back into fighting stance. He held no grudges and bore no bitterness towards anyone who beat him (many could). Likewise, he did not gloat over those he could beat, instead helping them in his own quiet way so they could themselves improve.

Yes, it wasn't his skills as a ninja that endeared her cousin to her so. It was his humanity—he had all the best traits of it.

He turned to look at her, brandishing the yellow slip that proved she would soon be looked at, and her eyes traitorously slid up to his forehead, where the faint, white scar stood out to her like a signal beacon. The seal had been incomplete, so Hiro was safe from any of its affects, but the scar would be there forever. It was like a badge, a symbol of the vestiges of the old Hyuuga Clan, the one that clung desperately to its double standards. Hiro never covered it, though, and wore it proudly as a mark of someone who had stepped in the way of "tradition" to help usher in the new Hyuuga Clan. Like she had when she was five, Nariko thought he was brave. His bravery made her brave, and she in turn, she knew, made her classmates brave. He really was widespread brightness.

Hiro dropped into the plastic seat beside her and studied the paper.

"Sakura-san is in the clinic today, so you'll probably see her." He smiled sympathetically as Nariko groaned and covered her eyes with her undamaged hand. It was a well-kept secret between the two of them that Nariko was a little afraid of Haruno Sakura. Actually, if she had to be honest, she was a little afraid of the whole family. Between Sakura, who had superhuman strength, her husband the taijutsu master Rock Lee, who had great strength and superhuman speed, and their son, her teammate Kento (who, unsurprisingly, had both talents), they made one REALLY formidable family. They were the nicest people either of them knew, but the pink-haired kunoichi still scared Nariko to some degree.

"Don't worry, Nariko-nee," he teased gently. "I'll go with you and protect you from any deadly stethoscopes."

She kicked his shin with the side of her foot and stuck her tongue furtively out at him. He glanced around, surmised that no one was watching who could reprimand them, and stuck his tongue back out at her. She giggled.

"Hyuuga Nariko?" A kunoichi with short pink hair stepped through the door, holding a clipboard in hand. She smiled at Nariko, who smiled nervously back. Hiro stepped up behind her, like a steady rock, and she felt more at ease.

"Hi, Sakura-san," she said sheepishly, holding up her broken hand. Sakura huffed with fond exasperation and ushered the two Hyuugas down the hall, Nariko following with her hand cradled to her chest, and Hiro at her side, one hand at the middle of her back as a guide and the other at her elbow to support the damaged appendage. She glanced at her cousin, and he beamed at her. Nariko found herself beaming back.

Hiro lived up to his name well.