Where you go, I will follow...
Summary: Hyuuga Namiko never asked to be placed on a team with Maito Gai, but maybe fate knew exactly where she belonged or was it ever in fate's hands? Maito Gai didn't like leaving things to chance after all. (Snippits from the life of the only kunoichi who could love Gai more than he seemed to love himself)
Important Note: This is more of a collection of loosely-connected stories and moments from the life of Hyuuga Namiko. If you do not like that, I hope you took the time to read this note and will now leave
Disclaimer: I do not own many of the characters in this story. This wonderful fandom belongs to its creator.
Chapter: Born by blood...
"Nami, come on inside!" the man called from the doorway. Namiko ignored her father, continuing to pummel the training post in front of her. Tears streamed down her face and her hands shook, blood dripping from her broken and bruised knuckles.
"Nami!" his voice rose, but she paid him no mind. She could see nothing, hear no one. It didn't matter. She was too weak. She was too weak. She was too weak.
"What are you doing out here, Nami?" her father's voice came from closer now, still yelling over the torrential rain. She did nothing, said nothing, but punched.
"Nami," he said, his pale eyes obviously taking her in. She was drenched in blood, the ground beneath her tinted with it as it washed down her body. Her hair was saturated as were her clothes and her face was bruised and bloody. He placed a hand on her shoulder, but she jerked away, turning defensively and slapping his hand away. She was breathing hard as she stepped backwards, adopting a defensive position. The tears continued to track down her cheeks, blending in with the rain as she stared from behind her drenched hair at his chest.
"Nami," he said, taking another step towards her. She cringed, but raised her eyes to his face at the recognition of his voice.
"Oto-san," she whispered in a small voice, feeling for once as young and inexperienced as she was. She rose to stand normally and took a small step towards him, raising a hand to hold onto her right arm as the pain seemed to hit her at once. She looked at him as if in confusion. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her frail, shaking body to him. Her legs gave way, but he held onto her as she broke, sobs racking her small body.
Namiko could not focus, could not pull herself together. All she knew was that she was safe for now, safe for who knew how long. She was in shock, that registered slightly, but her father would take care of her just as he always had. She had been protected for so long. This was the last time. She had to make this the last time. She needed to be stronger. She needed to be able to take care of herself no matter what. She couldn't rely on others like this.
It hurt so much though. This pain, this failure. She had never felt anything like it and the hokage had said nothing he'd been so aggrieved. She had simply limped from his office dazedly, saying nothing to him as he said nothing to her. They were both silent in their grief, both knowing that there was nothing that could be said about what had happened. It had been a slaughter. He had sent them straight on into an ambush. Her platoon leader had mentioned that it was not a good idea, but none had the power to question the hokage. He was their leader and they did as they were told.
The unfairness of it was not what hurt the worst. Her own team leader had been killed not in defense of her team, but running from the fight. Their platoon leader had been the next to go down leaving the seven of them, trying to fight a large group of probably chuunin to jounin shinobi from Suna. How could Hana have just…? It was unthinkable and she a member of Namiko's own clan, a HYUUGA! How dare she? It was a disgrace, a terrible disgrace and Namiko could hardly believe it.
When Hitomi and Yori had fallen… Namiko's eyes had changed, everything had changed. She had seen… everything, every single molecule of chakra in the air, the ground, the trees, all of it, all around her. She had not missed one movement of her enemies, one shift in their inner networks. She'd taken control of the situation, hollering orders to her remaining teammates, directing them and guiding them, able to see everything even as she fought the jounin before her, who had thankfully been injured by Jiro-sensei early on.
Namiko didn't understand what had taken over her where that leader had come from, that shinobi, but it had come and she had been standing in the aftermath, blood-soaked, her face soaked with her own tears and blood from a cut on her forehead. She'd been terrified, shaking, but she hadn't stopped. She'd taken Takeshi and she'd run with everything she had. When she'd stumbled in, when they'd told her that Takeshi wasn't… all she knew was that she needed to train. She didn't remember how she'd gotten home from there, how she'd made it to the back garden, how long she'd been punching that post, or even how long that damn rain had been falling.
"What happened, Nami?" her father's voice reached her, but she didn't speak, she found her own feet weakly and pulled away, shaking her head.
"The hokage," she shook her head. "Jiro-sensei told him we wouldn't…" She turned towards the house, stumbling towards it and refusing her father's help flatly.
She wondered how terrible she looked. Judging by her father's intake of breath when they stepped inside light of the house it was bad. She removed her shoes, knowing her mother was going to be very upset over the blood trail, but knowing there was little way around it. Her mother could yell all she wanted later and she would no doubt. Namiko didn't care. She made her way through the house to the nearest bathroom, fresh blood dripping off her fingertips sliding from her broken knuckles and old wounds still bleeding minimally.
She didn't bother taking off her clothes. She stepped into the shower, turning on the water and stepping back against the wall and sliding down under its heat, bringing her knees up to her chest and staring listlessly at the wall. She saw her father in the doorway, watching her with not pity but empathy. "It was Jiro-sensei's mission… your cousin Hana?" he questioned, softly. She shook her head, indicating they had not survived. She looked up at him with a cold and powerful hatred in her eyes which caused him to reel back slightly, but then she turned her eyes to stare straight at the wall again, shaking her head.
"Takeshi? Yori?" he murmured, voice pained. She shook her head once more for each name.
"Did anyone…" he trailed off.
"I had to finish the last few on my own," she offered as explanation. He was silent.
"I know you don't want to hear that you did well, but for you to prevail… to keep hold of that scroll…"
"I should have destroyed it," she growled. "Maybe the hokage would listen to that."
"Even the hokage can make mistakes, Namiko," he said sharply.
"Not like this!" she shouted at him. Her small, bleeding fists were clenched so tightly around her knees that they began to bleed more, each drop landing on her sandaled feet but quickly washed away by the stream of the water.
"What about forgiveness?" he asked mildly, his lavender eyes boring into hers.
"Five chuunin, a jounin, and two genin. He has that many people to ask for forgiveness. I doubt he'll be asking for mine," she muttered, but she knew her father was right. She had been raised as a shinobi and she knew what it was to be a leader. Things must be done and sometimes lives were lost. He didn't have the resources to send out a strictly jounin platoon or an ANBU unit for this mission, but… why them? She shook her head. It hurt too much. She couldn't think about it. She let out a low growl of frustration and pain, her fist slamming into the wall, which cracked under the force. Her father of course said nothing about that. He didn't care. It was only a building.
"You don't really mean what you are saying," he said, voice dry. "I know it hurts, but they died to defend Konoha. They died nobly and there is honor in that."
Namiko thought about Hana. Was there honor in death? Her honor was null the moment she turned her back on her comrades, but her blood looked just the same as Takeshi's which had dripped down her arm as she carried him, screaming and bleeding back to Konoha, only to be told that he'd died less than half an hour into her run. His screams had echoed though. She'd heard them the entire distance and still she heard them. His death… he had given his last ounce of chakra to try to save a member of his platoon. Was it the same for them now in death?
"Otosan?" she said softly. "How can you believe in honor still? After everything you've seen, every coward you've witnessed turn their back on those they claimed to care for… how can you say that there is honor in death?"
"One day, my dear Nami. One day you'll understand," he told her. She said nothing, glaring determinedly at the white wall before her as the shower washed her clean of blood, as her lavender eyes hardened. She would never be like Hana. She would become Jiro… only she'd be stronger. She'd never lose another precious person. She couldn't… wouldn't. She'd be so strong that no one would forget her. She knew Jiro would be soon forgotten, but she would not. She would be sure of that