Disclaimer: I own nothing, I make no money.
Midnight, in C Minor
Chapter Two: Winnow
(v.) to separate or distinguish valuable from worthless parts
His first thought is that she's not much of a shinobi. His second is that she's vain.
It's that long hair of hers. Impractical. An easy grab-hold for an enemy, a distraction on the field, a hindrance to her sight the way it whips around her when she's in motion (though he should have figured that one out better, Byakugan and all).
Hinata parries her opponent's katana with a kunai, her other hand jabbing between the man's shoulder and collar bone, closing the tenketsu point, and just as he shudders from the force of it, arms buckling, a ragged cough bursting forth – she whips around with a kick aimed for his jaw and Sasuke sees it.
Even her hair is chakra-lined, edges sharp and searing, and from this distance he can see the shallow cut it slices along the man's cheek as she spins.
She dispatches the rest of her opponents in moderate time, and Sasuke has a chance to watch her wipe the blood from her kunai along the grass before she straightens and pockets her weapons, eyes steady on his.
"We should move," she says just softly enough for him to think she's looking for approval, or maybe clarification. Or maybe it's just those damn Hyuuga manners and he can't decide which one it is in enough time to think of a response, so he simply grunts his agreement and walks purposely past her, resuming their route.
Hinata falls into step behind him, silent once more.
He still thinks she's not much of a shinobi.
(But his third thought is to glance back just once – just once –)
That midnight hair still sways dangerously and then he is void of thoughts completely.