The Chaos Theory
Byakugan: White eye; all-seeing eye.
Interlude 5
The cavern stunk of the dead creatures that had gotten lost and died within its maze of passages. Hanabi noticed a Konoha emblem carved into one of the walls. One of her captors followed her gaze before approaching the mark and slashing a few lines through it with a kunai.
Veins rose on her temples. "We haven't left Konoha."
Looking back at her, the man grinned. "Precisely."
"And who will look for you here?" said another.
Hanabi struggled against her binds, not ropes but wires, thread-thin but shockingly strong. They burned as they rubbed against her skin, cutting into her flesh and leaving raw red marks. The wires encircled her ankles and drew her hands behind her back, before circling up again to wrap around her throat. Every one of her fingers had been entwined. They twitched in her agitation, even at risk of being sliced off.
The area was illuminated only by a couple of torches hanging along the stone walls. Though they were draped in shadows, Hanabi could see the others clearly.
"The older girl got away," said one of the men, his hairline ebbing toward the top of his skull. He was the largest, and wore a Kumo hitai-ate on his arm. "And I've heard nothing from Ichiro and Hisoka since last night."
A second man remained silent, his face hooded as he observed from his spot leaning on a wall.
"It doesn't matter," said a third, longish hair tied behind his head. "What should we do with her, Kazue?"
Hanabi's attention turned to the sole woman among the Cloud shinobi. She was young and slim, with an obstinate face. She was someone with whom she might have related—
"Take her eyes."
Hanabi's breath hitched. There was a pause amongst the men, as though they were human enough to hesitate. Two of the men began to mutter amongst themselves. One—the hooded shinobi—withdrew a crude spoon-like instrument from his pack then turned to face her.
"Don't touch me!" said Hanabi as he approached and knelt down to her level. She struggled with her binds, choking as they cut into her throat. The man simply drew back her hair and raised his instrument. Hanabi squeezed her eyes shut. "Don't-! Mother!"
She was encompassed in a potent, almost pathological, silence. The hand against her forehead had disappeared. Not sure whether she was even conscious anymore, Hanabi lifted her eyes.
Though she was still seated with her limbs drawn taut, her binds had disappeared, as had the Cloud ninja that had surrounded her. Extending herself into a more comfortable position, Hanabi grinned at the woman she had summoned.
It was hard to see anything in her periphery. It was just Hanabi and her mother, the rest of the world rendered superfluous.
Her mother was wearing a black kimono that seemed more like liquid than cloth. Her shoulder-length hair had the same consistency. Her eyes were white, and her skin was unnaturally pale. Eeriness aside, she resembled Hinata, though taller, and more angular.
"Kaasan?" said Hanabi. The term felt juvenile on her tongue, but she had never known the woman as anything else.
"You're not supposed to use this technique." She spoke with sorrow though her face revealed only apathy.
"Because the dead have no reigns on their desires. They are inclined to take." Hanabi rehearsed platitudes from her father.
"Indeed," said her mother. "But as a potential heir—"
"It's my rightful inheritance," said Hanabi. "And my trump card. Okaasan…I need you to save my eyes."
They were abruptly face to face even though neither had made a move. Hanabi remained frozen, rapt with her mother's gaze.
The woman reached out and pulled back the strand of hair that always fell in Hanabi's face. "Beautiful eyes," she mused. "But what good will they do you once you're dead?"
Aghast, Hanabi stammered, "I—"
"You were never meant to survive such a terrible ordeal."
"I can't die," Hanabi protested. She grasped her mother's kimono, sleek like oil in her fingers. "You have to protect me!"
"I can save your life, but that's a steep request. What will you give me in return?"
Breathing evenly, Hanabi steeled herself. "What do you want?" she asked, her voice a breath.
To which, her mother leaned over her ear and whispered, "I want your soul. I want to keep it here with me. Forever."
"I…"
She agreed, and was harshly thrown back into reality just as the gleaming instrument connected with her eye socket. Her screams did not penetrate the thick walls of the cavern.
She could never be considered for heir now. She had become a living contradiction.
A blind Hyuuga.
Bloodied bandages encircled the top half of her face. There were deep cuts on her wrists, throat, and ankles, each which Hinata bandaged with her own shaking hands. Hanabi's left hand was stuffed in a bloody cloth, two of her fingers lost in her struggles for freedom.
It had been over a day since her disappearance. Search parties were still out scouting from there to Kumo, but by then, probably assumed it was too late.
And it was, in a sense.
"What happened to you?" Hinata choked out.
They sat on the floor in the center of the living room. Hanabi could hear the mutterings of family members. She heard their whispers, but not as distinctly as she would have liked. Her byakugan had always compensated for any weaknesses she had in her other senses, but now she felt isolated. Blind.
Hanabi caught one of her sister's trembling hands, interrupting the ministrations to feel her way along Hinata's arm. Finally her hand met a face that was cool and wet; soaked really. Chapped lips shuddered then pressed into a thin line. "What happened to you?" she countered.
Hinata did not respond.
"I sent for a healer, Hanabi-san," an elder cut in hoarsely. "She can help with your pain."
But nothing more.
Hanabi lowered her hand from Hinata's face. "I'm fine."
They both were.
She retched on the next few mornings she woke up to darkness. It was something she was never going to get used to. Crying was excruciating on the occasions it was possible. She continued to hear those indiscernible murmurs follow her throughout the house. If she wanted to contest them, she found herself yelling out at nothing. She was left unsure of whether anyone had been there at all.
Finding her way had become guess-work, except for the times her sister took her arm and escorted her around. After a few days of this, Hanabi began to tear away. She fell down sometimes, and still, her sister helped her, always lingering behind her shoulder, even when Hanabi demanded to be left alone.
Her days were spent creeping along walls. She had become more vocal than she cared to be, calling out, announcing herself like an idiot. Her voice often fell hollow, hanging in empty air. Most of her time was spent alone in her room, sitting, waiting. Sometimes someone else walked inside, but she was too weary by then to be curious. She couldn't distinguish people or sounds. She couldn't even tell day from night.
It had been a month since she'd lost her eyes. That day, someone came into her room, bur rather than tidying up and ignoring her, they reached out and grasped her shoulder.
Hinata.
"It's me," said Neji.
"What is it?"
"It's time for you to resume your training."
Hanabi furrowed her eyebrows. "I can't see."
"That isn't an excuse to slack off."
Hanabi scowled. "What do you know about being blind?"
"Nothing." But Neji had someone else in mind.
Her sister wrapped her face in bandages every day, as though it made a difference. Maybe the sight of her empty eye sockets disgusted Hinata.
She sat on the grass, and could feel Hinata seated next to her, always at arms-reach. Across from them was an unfamiliar presence.
"My new sensei?" said Hanabi dryly. "But I have no respect for you."
She knew if she had been someone else, he would have yelled or cursed, as was his wont (or at least she had heard). "You won't have to put up with me for long. If you can complete my regimen I'll dump you on Shino."
Short-term goals. Did they think she could be so easily manipulated? Giving her small things to pursue, as though there would be anything worthwhile in the longrun.
"And then what?"
"Kakashi."
That made things slightly more interesting. Still—
"What's the point?" said Hanabi.
"We're going to teach you to use your remaining senses," said Kiba. "Your cousin was tired of watching you trample around like a clumsy rhinoceros."
Hanabi sneered. "What's the point?" she reiterated.
She stiffened as she felt a large, clawed hand fall to cup the top of her head.
"Humor me," he growled.
It was a year later that she began missions again. The barrage that had once been her surroundings had become categorized in her mind, each having become a distinct sound or rhythm. She could hear the fluttering of wings and identify what bird it was. She could tell Kiba's growls from the Uzumaki's more feral ones. She could even hear the differences in her sister's breathing patterns that day: heavier; faster.
"Let's go," said Uchiha Sasuke, brushing past Hanabi on his way out of the Hokage's office.
A more graceful figure followed him, briefly squeezing her arm as it did so.
Hinata.
Mouth set, Hanabi entered the office. She listened to the sound of Kakashi lowering some papers.
"I have a mission for you." There was amusement in his voice as though she had missed something funny. "You will be delivering a scroll to Suna with Moegi. She's waiting outside and will fill you in on the details."
Veiling her disappointment, Hanabi left. Kakashi had the habit of putting nin into partnerships though she would have preferred to work alone.
When she got back outside, Moegi called out, as though Hanabi couldn't already sense her. Shuffling parchment as they walked, Moegi filled her in on minute details about the mission. Predictably, Mogei was taking lead. Hanabi was blind, anyway. And then there were her missing fingers. She could only do one-handed seals.
They took to the forest and moved nonstop for two days. Hanabi could sense her distance from everything organic—the plants, insects, and animals, each giving off their own miniscule auras. The dead things were more difficult for her to detect, but through her training with Shino, she had learned about air patterns, and the way they uniquely circulated around different objects.
Sometimes she misinterpreted her senses, or one clashed with another, in which she would snag her arm on a branch, or crash through an old log. She always cursed herself and continued on. Kiba was rubbing off on her.
On the third day of travel, she and Moegi had almost reached Suna. They were not to stop until the scroll was delivered, but Hanabi could sense Moegi's increasing fatigue.
The Hyuuga did not slow down, but Moegi lagged, and it was because of this that they were intercepted at the border of the Wind country.
Moegi screamed as a kunai caught her thigh.
Hanabi dodged the whistles of weapons, listening to Moegi follow suit. The injured kunoichi panted heavily, betraying their location.
"Who are they?" Hanabi called.
"What—?" Moegi swung behind a tree just before several kunai were embedded in its bark.
"Who are they?" Hanabi repeated, raising a senbon and deflecting weapons with apt, economical jerks of her arm. She joined Moegi behind the tree.
Their attackers consisted of a small team—three-man—and she could hear them strategically closing in. They communicated with each other scarcely, but in terse accents. Their movements were light and fluid.
"Suna rebels," said Moegi, catching her breath. Pushing herself off the tree, she leapt for a lower branch, but her feet never made contact.
Hanabi disappeared into the foliage before she could be captured as well. The rebels were easy to avoid since she could sense them. She withdrew a far enough distance that she felt safe to listen in as the foreigners interviewed Moegi.
"Where is the scroll?"
Moegi grunted in pain. "In my backpack."
There was the distinct crack of a limb snapping followed by a scream.
"Where?" the man repeated.
Remaining silent, Hanabi felt around the backpack she had collected from Moegi during the scuffle. Unzipping it, she reached inside and retracted the thin scroll they had been charged with protecting.
"I don't know!" Moegi cried.
Crunching noises. Bone on bone, and the disgusting hiss of spraying blood. Moegi could not extricate herself from the assault.
Perched there in a low tree branch, Hanabi listened to the sounds of her teammate being systematically torn apart.
When it was over, Hanabi departed. She reached Suna in half the time it would have taken if Moegi was still with her. Seated on a chair in the Kazekage's office, she leaned her elbows on her thighs, listening as the Kage entered the room. His movements were heavier than anyone else's she knew. She couldn't tell whether his steps were casual or deliberate. She felt him approach to face her, so held out the scroll. He removed it from her hand with surprisingly graceful movements.
"Thank you," said Gaara, his voice monotonous. She recalled his verdant eyes and sanguine hair, a perplexing contrast that she would never be able to contemplate again. Other Kages often congratulated her on her achievements, impressed that she flawlessly accomplished missions better suited for shinobi double her age and with all their senses.
Gaara did not. "What happened to your teammate?"
"She died," said Hanabi.
Gaara said nothing and even if she'd had her eyes, she didn't expect she could read him.
By the time Hanabi was thirteen, her sister's relationship with the Uchiha had become official—during one of those times she hadn't been paying attention. Not that they were particularly vocal about it. She could just hear them arguing sometimes.
Kissing, others.
Weary of them, and jaded towards Hinata's impending promotion, Hanabi occupied herself with missions. She'd take two or three on end before she tired. Sometimes her teammates died accidentally, and their deaths turned out somehow—convenient.
As she crossed the village upon her latest return, she felt Kakashi's apprentice watching her, and imagined his jaw was tight, his hair, blonde and stupid as ever.
Hanabi ignored his bubbling animosity. It wasn't as though he knew anything about her or her many fallible teammates. He had no idea how incompetent they all were.
Her face was burning for some reason, her head pounding, and the world spinning. By the time she got to the Hyuuga grounds, her pace had decreased considerably. She pulled at her bandages, desperate to remedy that stinging sensation where her eyes should have been. She didn't notice that she'd fainted until several hours later.
"Hanabi."
She awoke to darkness, as she always did these days. Hinata was seated at her bedside. "What happened?" Hanabi mumbled.
"You fainted."
Hanabi tensed at the Uchiha's voice.
"Clogged tear ducts. Your face is infected," Hinata elaborated for her laconic boyfriend.
Hinata brushed her fingers through her hair, the way their mother had done just that one time Hanabi had met her.
"Were you crying, Hana?"
Hanabi wrinkled her nose. "No—I—I don't—"
Her sister spread a salve above her cheeks, opening her tear ducts, and leaving a burning, tingling sensation, that Hanabi associated with peppermint. Hanabi reached up and encountered the wetness of tears on her face. She lowered her hand, feeling sheepish.
"Try to get some rest," said Hinata, standing.
Hanabi listened to the sounds of Hinata and Sasuke exiting the room.
It was only then that she noticed how little she cared for them.