In the void, in the silence, in the dark—the memories come like a shower of fallen stars—blindingly bright like a thousand suns and she…she is the hopeless fool that got too close and slowly burned alive.
She remembers. Lifetimes. Worlds. She remembers.
Hyuuga Hinata. Hyuuga Hanabi. Hyuuga Neji. Hyuuga Hiashi. Hyuuga Hitomi. Hyuuga Hizashi. The Hyuuga Clan. A house divided, rotting at its core. Masters and Slaves. The Curse Seal. Cursed cold white eyes that see everything but are almost always powerless to do anything. Always the beginning. Always.
Konoha. The Academy. Genin Teams. Chuunin Exams. Friends and comrades. The fierce fights. The dangerous battles. The powerful enemies—Orochimaru, Pein, the Akatsuki and many more. All the same. Always the same.
The War. The Fourth Shinobi World War. Countries and villages united. People from different lands working together, eating together, dying together. Neji.
Livelihoods destroyed. Homes ruined. Families and loved ones sundered. Corpses and corpses piling up. Dead people reanimated to help fight the living. The Juubi. Obito. Zetsu. Madara. Kaguya. The Infinite Tsukuyomi.
Then, she remembers the many paths she's taken after.
She remembers blonde hair and blue eyes. Remembers how he was always the first. Bright and burning and full of hope like the sun rising in the East. A boy turned man, fearless and strong. A defiant, determined whiskered face always turned to the sky. Always chasing after his dreams.
She remembers years of quiet love and longing. Then, a love finally requited. Perfect weddings on beautiful summer days with family and good friends in attendance. Happiness she thought would never last. And children—such precious children. Golden and dark hairs. Wide, bright blue eyes. Loud contagious laughter and such beautiful smiles. Little boys named Boruto and Minato and Jiraiya. Little girls named Himawari and Kushina.
But just as the sun rises, the sun also sets. She remembers lonely years down the line…Duty over love. Village over family. And in the aftermath…Quiet homes. Cold rooms. Half-empty beds. Distance and dissatisfaction. Unbearable silence. Unhappiness and bitterness and regrets. Slow, excruciating heartbreaks that never let hearts break even. From lover and wife to a mere afterthought—a small forgettable footnote in someone else's history.
She remembers the vast desert. Remembers the fiery red hair and gorgeous green eyes. The word love engraved on a forehead. A mad, blood-thirsty boy turned to a quiet man of charisma and integrity and strength. Of kindness and understanding and infinite patience.
She remembers awkward interactions then quiet friendships built on respect, then attraction, then love. She remembers the numerous trials and tribulations—meddling elders, complicated village politics, lengthy agreements and even assassination attempts.
She remembers lavish wedding ceremonies for the Kazekage and a Hyuuga Clan Heiress. Rowdy celebrations in the streets of the Village Hidden in the Sand. Two villages united, bound closer than ever.
She remembers gentle eyes, gentle laughter, gentle smiles. Always so achingly gentle. Strong arms that enveloped her and gave her a safe shelter from the desert storms. A mouth that never failed to tell her of his love. Lips that woke her up with kisses in the morning and when she went to sleep at night. Redamancy—a love returned in full. And wonderful children—serious, dutiful little boys with her hair and their father's eyes and beautiful little girls with their father's hair and her eyes.
She remembers dark hairs pulled up and intelligent dark brown eyes always seemingly bored but always knowing. Easy friendship turned to quiet romance. Slow but steady and strong.
She remembers secretive glances over a precious little girl's head. Gentle laughter and small smirks after sarcastic remarks. Countless naps shared together. Long games of shoji she never won. Passionate and lazy moments in the stillness and the shadows of the Nara forest. Fond memories of making medicines with his fierce mother while having conversations about his wise departed father.
Simple and quiet wedding ceremonies. Joy and contentment. Peaceful moments working side by side. An almost preternatural understanding in dark brown eyes. Words of support. Useful advices. Furtive looks of encouragement. Long, sinewy arms that always welcomed her. Children with her eyes and their father's smart mouth and mind. Simple, easy lives despite both their positions—just like they both always wanted.
She remembers an entirely unanticipated fork in the road. Remembers one black and one purple eye. Journeys of self-discoveries and redemption. Paths crossing again and again and again. Quiet curiosities. Cautious interactions. Unexpected discoveries. Shared experiences. Beginnings of something new.
Love—first muted and slow turned fervid, intense. A passion that burnt like the dark flames of Amaterasu. And she happily burnt every night and rose from the ashes when came light.
She remembers fire and electricity dancing on her skin. A strong hand that held her close to a warm body at night. Ardent kisses that always took her breath away. Frenzied lovemakings under the moon, under the stars, in dark forests, beside lakes, under waterfalls.
She remembers secret weddings and whispered—sometimes unsaid—promises. Power and strength and loyalty and devotion offered to her above all. And children, with the mix of hers and their father's eyes—beautiful children named Mikoto and Neji and Shisui. But never, ever Itachi—because Konoha and the Shinobi world is a place without justice, a place with very limited understanding and kindness, especially for the feared but fallen Uchiha Clan. Their Clan. Her Clan now.
She remembers many homes—a small beach house in a hidden cove in the Land of Waves. A cabin tucked on the side of a mountain in the Land of Lightning. An underground lair in the ruins of the Land of Whirlpools. A secret basement in the Land of Sound. Simple but warm homes far from the eyes of people who only knew to judge, who would never understand.
Most of all, she remembers the last wars—the wars to end all wars. And she remembers losing them all, one by one. Fallen like precious pearls from a severed string.
She remembers fighting and fighting and fighting—she who has always despised conflict. She remembers watching all the men she loved fall. Remembers cradling the corpses of her children. Remembers burying them in shallow graves. Remembers looking for the dead bodies of other loved ones lost and never finding them.
She remembers journeys abruptly ended. Stories finished but incomplete. Partings without goodbyes. Endings without happily ever afters. She remembers living and dying and being reborn again and again and again. She remembers and remembers and remembers and wishes she'll once more forget. To be finally granted an eternal sleep.
Be careful what you wish for, her mother and Kurenai-sensei said, a long, long time ago. Lifetimes and lifetimes ago. She wishes she had heeded their words. She wishes she hadn't been a fool, hadn't let her despair and desires rule. She wishes she had been wiser and rejected the goddess' offer.
Pein. It all makes sense now why she remembers him the most. The ripple pattern of his rinnegan. The circles. Samsara—a suffering-laden cycle of life, death and rebirth without beginning or end.
And Uchiha Madara—the reincarnation of her husband and lover—once the enemy and now her beloved brother. The deluded madman who thought once to save the world by casting an Infinite Tsukuyomi. She understands him better now.
It is far more tempting to live in a perfect infinite dream than to exist in the real world with a heart as small as two fists but filled with loss and emptiness and despair as vast as the universe.
…..
Sat rigidly on a chair by Hinata's bedside, Madara frowned and watched with tense muscles as his little sister's eyes continued to make rapid saccadic movements beneath her lids, droplets of blood flowing down her wan cheeks like tears. Tatsuya who sat on the other side was quick to wipe the blood away from his twin's face with a wet cloth.
"It's been a sennight. This isn't normal, is it? Backlash from sharingan awakening normally doesn't take this long. The person may pass out for hours or perhaps a few days but…a week? You've also activated your sharingan, nii-san, the same time as her and it only took you a few hours," Izuna murmured while leaning on the wall by the window, eyes on their sister.
He took a deep inhale and exhale before responding, "I don't know, brother. I really don't know what's happening either,"
Izuna was right though. What's happening to their sister was indeed a cause for concern.
What happened at the lake with their little brothers…it also caused his sharingan to finally awaken. One eye with one tomoe and the other with two. But he didn't suffer any prolonged pain. He hasn't even fallen unconscious.
But Hinata had and she's been in a disturbed sleep for days now—seven days since…since the cruel tragedy that's befallen their little brothers and their aunt.
All the clan healers have already seen to her and none had been able to figure out what's happening. Everyone was in agreement though that it may have something to do with her eyes.
The pattern of their sister's new eyes were unlike any of them has ever seen or read in the historical records of their clan. One was closer to a sharingan, red and black but with the tomoe seals shaped differently—like a flower-patterned pinwheel. The other eye was silvery with a blue pupil and an iris with a more intricate floral pattern. Not only that, a strange black mark shaped like a diamond had also appeared in the palms of both her hands.
Mayhap the strangeness was a result of her having the byakugan? After all, Hinata having it despite being an Uchiha was already an unprecedented occurrence so perhaps they shouldn't be surprised she'd have a different sharingan too.
He didn't know and didn't really want to worry about it yet. What he worried about was the length of time it's taking her to wake up.
She could have died...She…could have died. He felt wretched and guilty for feeling it—for being thankful that his sister was just a little slower. That she did not make it to the lake and joined their younger brothers in death.
He loved all his brothers. He did. But Hinata was his only sister and perhaps the only person whose perceptive eyes saw far better and could understand him most of the time. Losing her would be like losing their mother all over again, only worse.
"I'll kill every single Senju I get my hands on for what they've done. I swear it. I'll kill them all. Slowly," Tatsuya growled hatefully.
Madara closed his eyes then pinched the bridge of his nose tiredly. "Tatsuya, calm down. You're not killing anyone yet. You're not even going anywhere yet."
Tatsuya's face twisted to a dark scowl. "Calm down? Not going anywhere? How can you tell me that? Kenji was only five and Kiyoshi not even three. They were practically still just babies, Aniki. It's not right. They need to be avenged."
Madara's face hardened and he gave his younger brother a warning look. "Don't remind me of their ages, I remember perfectly well how young they were. And don't talk about vengeance. You're only seven, brat."
"I still don't understand how it happened. How a Senju got inside our territory. Why no one aside from Hina felt any threat," Izuna interrupted, obviously playing mediator.
Madara quieted as his hands clenched. That's been eating him up, every day and every night—that he hadn't felt anything at all. His sister, younger by five years, did far better. Their female cousins reported that Hinata felt something was wrong, stopped the healing lessons and searched using her byakugan. Many clan members reported seeing her running to the lake before the explosion happened.
And him? He had been laughing while Tatsuya pummeled Hikaku to the dojo floor. What a disgrace. To call himself a shinobi, a big brother, only to fail when it mattered the most. And now they have two dead little brothers whose ashes were put in little urns at the Naka shrine.
He and his father had personally scoured the entire perimeter of the lake to find out more as to who the perpetrators were and only found two kunais with Senju crests on the handles.
Their father had been in a rage since, wanting to attack and collect payment for the atrocious debts the Senju committed against their family but…Hinata has not woken up ever since that terrible day. So here they were, all on edge and every one of them practically vibrating with fury and worry.
"Her eyes keep bleeding and she seems to be in great pain even while unconscious. I just wish she'd wake up and end this wait already," Tatsuya whispered, more calm this time.
…..
She opens heavy lids and swollen eyes with her regained memories swirling, pounding, and splitting open her head. She blinks slowly, painfully and when she focuses, she instantly notices the difference.
Everything looks far too sharp—the shapes, the colors. The tiny spider crawling up a thin white string, about to return to its web on the ceiling. The faint scratches and small grooves on the wooden beams. The faint, small spots on the wall facing the foot of her futon.
"Hinata!" she hears someone call out, a worried voice far too loud for her ears. Izuna, she recognizes.
His voice is followed by a few hurried steps approaching her and after a few blinks, she's staring up at relieved faces looking down at her. Madara, Izuna and Tatsuya.
Sasuke, she thinks with acute ache now that she knows exactly the true weight of her losses, they look so much like Sasuke. Like my dead and lost sons.
"Hina, can you see me? Can you hear? How do you feel? It's been—"
"Not too loud, Izuna. Sister, how are you feeling?" Madara asks.
"Nii-san, water. Please," she croaks out, feeling an overwhelming thirst and hunger pangs in her stomach.
"Of course!" Tatsuya says before swiftly leaving.
A moment later, he returns with a pitcher of water and a cup and offers her one. When she lifts her hand and they see it tremble, Madara bends to adjust the pillows on her back so she's in a reclining position while Izuna takes the cup from her twin and helps her drink, careful not to spill the water.
"It's been nine days, sister. Nine days since…" Izuna trails off, eyes faraway.
Nine days since the death of their aunt and their little brothers. Yes, she remembers very well and feels her throat tighten and warm tears form in her eyes upon remembering what she's last witnessed before darkness fell. The bloody lake…
"Your eyes. You have different eyes now, Hinata. Can you feel the difference?" Madara asks in a serious voice, changing the topic entirely.
"It…everything looks so sharp it hurts," she answers.
Izuna moves away and returns quickly with a mirror. "Have a look. You have really strange eyes, Hina. It's…well, no one really know what they are as this is the first time anyone's seen their like but perhaps, they're different because of your byakugan."
She hesitantly takes the mirror and slows raises it to eye level and gasps when she sees the eyes looking back.
One mangekyou sharingan and…one tenseigan.