A/N:Well, I wasn't really expecting to write this, but I couldn't resist it when the idea came to me. I really adore Hinata, and I thought that it would be interesting to write some angst for her since, being of the Main House, she tells the other side of Neji's story. Please enjoy. Reviews are greatly appreciated.

Yin and Yang


For the first time since she was very young, Hinata enters the Hyuuga cemetery.

It is empty, and as she makes her way through the graveyard she is accompanied only by rows upon rows of tombstones and the sound of her own feet as they tread softly on the ground.

The sky above her was clear that morning, but now it is as dark and gray as the silk kimono she has donned for this occasion. Soon it will rain, but Hinata doesn't mind that. If the Hyuuga live in the sun, then it seems fitting that they lie with rain in death.

But today, Hinata did not come to honor her ancestors. Rather, she came to ponder them.

Her silver eyes swept over the large white memorials to her left, then slowly made their way over to the smaller white slabs on her right. Main House, Branch House. Even in death they remained separate. Even in death there would not be harmony.

She is wrong. Harmony. The sky is gray. The cemetery is gray. Her kimono is gray. Hinata's heart feels gray. There is harmony after all, but not in the right places.

She turns to her right and approaches the graves of the Branch House members. Hyuuga, the name etched in stone, is the only thing she can see. Then a dot of color catches her eye.

It is an old, dirty pink ribbon, wrapped loosely around the brittle gray stems of a long-dead potted flower that sits on the edge of the lines of graves. The frayed threads flutter vainly in some whisper of breeze too slight to be a wind.

A breath. Hinata exhales.

The grave beside the plant belongs to Neji's mother. Hizashi-sama's respectable wife. Her aunt. Hinata has never met her, and is not sure whether or not she is glad. She knows, however, that Neji loved his mother.

She also knows that the flowers and the ribbon he left in the graveyard were for his father.

"Hizashi-sama…" she murmurs, her voice trailing off in thought.

In the dusty corners of her memories she recalls his face – or is it her father's? No, it was her uncle. The cloth over his forehead…the smile that was not there. That was her uncle. Neji's father. The one who, had things been different, might have been her father.

Hinata does not remember anything else. She does not remember the time when, according to her father, he had tried to kill her, or the times when she observed him when he was with his son. She does not remember his final sacrifice. She does not remember his good and his bad. She does not remember the person, the man, that was Hyuuga Hizashi. Hinata is glad she does not remember.

She does not have to bear the shame of Hyuuga.

Reaching down, she carefully unravels the ribbon from the tangles of dried stems. Gingerly, she ran her fingers down its length, and pulled a few stray thistles from it.

Neji-niisan…you still feel the pain. I'm sorry.

Yes, Hinata is sorry, because it is the only thing she can feel. She did not know Hizashi-sama. She cannot mourn, and she cannot regret. She cannot change anything, and so she can only apologize.

Hinata is the only one of the Main House to ever apologize. It's alright, because that is the way she is, and in the end she will be the one who will apologize in the name of her family.

Someday she will be the Head of Hyuuga. She will not fail her family, she will not fail Neji, she will not fail the name of Hyuuga. She will not let Hizashi-sama die another death. Someday, she would change the Hyuuga.

The Main House and the Branch House needed harmony, and she would bring it to them. She would not fail to bring it to them, would not fail like her father and grandfather and the ancestors all around her had.

The rain begins to fall as she continues to kneel upon the ground. Around her, the rain spills over the tops of the tombstones of Hyuuga in tiny streams.

She stays there for a long time.


The rain has stopped and the sky is beginning to clear when Hinata rises. Gently, she smoothes out the damp ribbon in her hands and tucks it into the black folds of her obi.

Pink does not belong in graveyards. The flowers in the graveyard had died. Their colors were not in harmony with the gray of the graveyard.

The same gray that is living proof of death.

The same gray that is a blend of the white purity of the Main House and the black oppression of the Branch.

The gray that is not harmony.

There is no harmony even in death. It is the tragedy of the Hyuuga.

Hinata glances around the cemetery one last time as she makes her way slowly toward the exit. When she leaves, she will return to the world of color, joy, and life. She will forget the gray and the murky tombs of death.

But in this moment, when the air is clear and fresh, and silence rings like music in her ears, Hinata offers a token of apology to her family as they loom before her in judgment.

May you rest in peace, Hizashi-sama.

She doesn't move, and holds her breath.

Then, a strand of her hair tickles her cheek and there is again just the slightest rustle in the air.

She exhales. With a small bow to the one grave that is not there, she turns and leaves.

The graveyard is a place for rest.

Hinata smiles and thinks that today, she has made a tiny bit of peace amidst the discord in her family. There is hope.

There is hope for a day when the Main and Branch, black and white, will embrace each other, and her family in death may find peace in their grays. Maybe someday, the tombs will be surrounded by blooming flowers. Hinata knows there is hope.

Because somewhere in the gray of the Hyuuga, there is a little harmony after all.

-Owari-