For those dying, the process of death is simple.
One day here-the next day gone.
Everything after is a little more complicated for the living.
Executors and lawyers handle the estate details.
The funeral is small and private.
The ashes are given to Hanabi.
They spread them together, behind his house, in her mother's garden.
It hurts.
Being back at this house that she grew up in.
Walking through the front door of a place that she swore never to return to.
She finds that, although she makes every effort to never go back on her word, there are some things in life that are unavoidable and come people that mean more to her.
Being there for Hanabi means more to her than her own spite.
So she stands outside beneath the grey sky, in the cold wind, while Hanabi says her goodbyes.
She still feels angry.
"Anger is a perfectly understandable emotion to feel." She can practically hear Inoichi's voice. "It's a natural part of the grieving process."
Hinata is familiar with the Kubler-Ross model.
She doesn't think it's the same type of anger, though, but she's not an award winning psychiatrist, so what does she know.
She's not angry at fate or destiny, or even death itself.
No.
She's angry at herself.
For caring at all.
Hanabi's soft sobs draw Hinata from her own introspection to her sister's side. She wraps an arm around Hanabi's shaking shoulders and watches the grey ash settle over the cool ground.
By the time they finish spreading his remains, it's too late to drive back to the city, and despite Hinata's misgivings, they stay the night. She finds that her old room is still mostly untouched while Hanabi's had been updated with new furnishings for when she went to visit.
Hinata half expected her room to be a bathroom or something, to be honest, so it's more than a little disconcerting stepping over the threshold.
It's feels like entering the past.
A chill courses over her skin-unwelcome and foreboding.
There are no fond memories here.
She just wants to forget it all.
So, of course, she dreams of her mother.
Hinata remembers humming.
Sunlight against skin.
Gentle laughter.
She can feel fingertips at her temple, trailing grooves into her short tresses as quiet humming lulls her to sleep.
She remembers being held.
She remembers feeling loved.
She remembers…
"Hinata."
Her mother.
Face pale.
Tear-streaked.
She remembers voices fighting.
A baby crying.
Her mother is locked in her room.
"Leave her be, Hinata." Her father lifts her up, tucks her to his chest. "She needs her rest."
She remembers…
"Hinata."
The baby is crying again.
Her mother is in her room again.
Sunlight spills over pale skin.
Her dress is white.
Her eyes are open.
The baby is still crying.
"Wake up! Mommy! Wake up!"
"Hinata!"
Her father's voice.
Her mother bathed in sunlight.
Dressed in white.
I'm sorry.
Hinata wakes up with a strangled gasp, one hand reaching out blindly.
The room is dark.
Outside rain patters against the glass.
She feels sick.
Because this felt less like a dream and more like...a memory.
She rolls off the bed, rising unsteadily to her feet, making her way-almost drunkenly-out of her old bedroom and down the hall.
To her parents' room.
Or what used to be their room.
Now it's an storage room of sorts.
Still…
She pushes open the wooden door and the images flash behind her eyes in rapid succession.
It's a sunny afternoon.
The birds are chirping outside the open window.
Her mother lays on the bed.
Beautiful-dressed in white.
Wedding dress.
She could have been sleeping, except her eyes are open.
Staring at Hinata.
Almost accusingly.
She holds a bottle of pills in one hand and a note in the other.
"Hinata."
"Hinata…?"
Hinata whirls, finds Hanabi standing behind her looking confused and worried.
"I...she…" Hinata shakes her head helplessly as emotions-too many to identify-flood through her and she collapses against the wall, sliding down until she's seated.
Hanabi moves to sit beside her.
"Mom?" Hanabi asks.
Hinata nods.
Hanabi was too young to remember her.
Too young.
Just a baby.
A baby.
The baby was crying...
Hinata exhales a shaky breath.
"I remember now. I found her. In there." She gestures to the room but doesn't face it again. She wants to leave.
Now.
Leave and never ever look back because her heart is fracturing with every breath. A chasm forming.
Because she remembers...being held.
She remembers...being happy.
She remembers...how it all fell apart.
Morning finds Hinata in her father's study, despite her intentions to be on the road back home at the crack of dawn.
She can't leave. At least, not yet.
Hanabi stays, too. Mostly to sort through some of Hiashi's personal effects, but also to keep an eye on Hinata.
While that's a comfort, Hinata wishes Naruto were there. She thought about asking him to attend the funeral with her, but he'd never even met her father and he always got so upset anytime Hinata talked about him, so it probably wouldn't be a good idea. It's a selfish wish-for his comfort-but still...She always felt like she could face anything by Naruto's side and she could use a bit of that now.
Hiashi's study is neat and organized. Her father had a penchant for meticulousness and exacting standards. Apparently he had them for himself as well. Everything has a place. An order.
Hinata's not sure what she hopes to find, but she starts with his desk. She's not surprised to see a picture of Hanabi beside his monitor. In the drawers she finds ledgers and legal documents; some financial investment information. There's nothing personal aside from his one picture of Hanabi.
She's not even sure why that disappoints her. She knows-better than anyone-how non-sentimental the man was.
Two hours later Hanabi joins her. "Did you find what you were looking for?" she asks.
Hinata lifts one shoulder in a half shrug. "I'm not even sure what I was looking for," she confesses.
Hanabi approaches her slowly and then holds out a leather bound book. "Maybe this?"
Hinata looks up and sees that her sister has been crying. "Wh-what is it?"
Hanabi just jostles it a little. "Just...read it."
Taking the well-worn book from Hanabi, Hinata gives her sister a searching look.
Hanabi sniffs. "It was in his bedroom closet. I'll...uhm...give you some time. She closes the door behind her.
It's a diary.
Her mother's diary.
Hinata reads the pages...following Hikari's story.
Following how she fell in love with Hiashi.
How she was overcome and overwhelmed by that love.
She reads pages upon pages of her parents' love story.
She reads how excited Hikari was for their wedding.
How happy they were to be expecting Hinata.
How in love they were.
Years of entries.
Years of happy moments.
Little bits of love letters from Hiashi taped in between the pages.
A new baby on the way.
Their loving family growing larger.
Then the tone shifts.
After Hanabi is born.
Her mother becomes sadder and sadder.
Hinata recognizes the signs of depression-most likely postpartum in this case-and reads with anxious breaths the remainder of the entries. She knows what happens, but she doesn't know and she wants to understand.
Hikari writes about how she doesn't feel a connection to anything anymore. Except Hiashi. And she thinks he is falling out of love with her. She doesn't blame him. How could he love her? She was such a mess. She ruined everything. She was worthless. It would just be better for him if she wasn't around.
Hikari's part of the diary ends the day before her death with one simple sentence scrawled by a trembling hand: A life without his love is not worth living.
The tears come so hard and unexpected that Hinata feels like she's drowning. She cries for a long time. She cries for her mother. She cries for herself. She even cries for her father, because she read the diary...she knows he loved her mother. Once upon a time he loved Hinata, too.
Then Hikari died.
And she took that with her.
Hinata takes some time to collect herself. She wipes her eyes and places the diary on Hiashi's desk.
She finds Hanabi in the living room, seated on the couch. She has a framed photo in her hands. Hinata settles beside her.
"This was in his room. By his bed." Hanabi tells her.
It's one of the only family pictures they had that included everyone. Hiashi and Hikari stand side by side. Hinata is also standing, in front of her father, her hand in his, while Hikari holds Hanabi. They're smiling. It's a nice picture.
Hanabi casts a glance at Hinata, then back to the photo, her fingers ghosting the glass. "You look just like her, you know."
Hinata had never really thought about it, but looking at the photo now she can see the striking resemblance. Hiashi must have seen a bit of Hikari every time he looked at her.
She remembers his eyes in the hospital room...almost hopeful. "Hikari…"
She wipes at her cheeks, smearing the fresh tears.
"He loved you." Hanabi says, wiping her nose. "I just don't think he ever forgave her. And you…"
"Reminded him." Hinata nods slowly as her finger slides along their mother's outline. "Yeah...maybe."
"He should have hated me," Hanabi mutters.
Hinata snaps her head to the side so fast she's surprised it doesn't detach. "What?"
Hanabi's own head ducks forward, her brown hair sliding to conceal her expression. "Because of me...Mom…"
Oh.
"Oh, Hanabi. It wasn't your fault." Hinata reaches for her, pulling her into a fierce hug. "None of it was."
Hanabi sniffs into her shoulder, dampening the soft fabric of HInata's top."It wasn't yours either."
Hinata used to wonder what she could have done different-to make her father love her. She'd spend hours trying to be perfect for him. She would do her homework, clean her room, clean the house, make dinner, stay quiet and out of the way...but it never mattered.
She realizes now that it never would have mattered. No matter what she did, whenever he looked at her he didn't see Hinata. All he saw was the echo of his late wife and that pain must have been nearly intolerable.
It doesn't excuse what he did to her, but it helps her understand.
She'll never have her mother back. She'll never have the relationship she wanted with her father.
But she has Hanabi.
And Ino.
And Kiba.
And Shino.
And Argus.
And even Naruto.
She has her family.
That's more than enough.