Summary:

They like to believe that their eyes are diamonds; hard, precious, birthed through generations of pressure. They're wrong. Their eyes are glass; brittle, fragile, created from common sand through seconds of intense heat. Glass breaks, glass cuts, glass shows reflections that they don't want to acknowledge. Reflections of others... and reflections of themselves. [AU] [Hinted SasuHina] [Non-Chronological Linked Drabbles]

General Disclaimer For The Entire Story:

I don't own Naruto. If I did, I'd have drawn out a very helpfully annotated map of where everything is in Konoha. If there are little-used canon!characters, there should be little-mentioned canon!places, so fanfiction authors can use those like they elaborate on the L-UCC. The cover picture isn't mine, either.


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(rivalries through mirror edges)

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[Age - ]

The two Doujutsu Clans of Konohagakure have been locked in a bitter rivalry since the founding of the village.

In the eyes of the other Clans, their competition is remarkably similar to the squabble between two spoiled rich brats in a civilian school.

(They are respected for their power, yes, but not quite well-liked among their fellow ninja, who are mostly of the opinion that they are both equally stiff stuck-up sneering sooty snobs of the highest un-fashion.)

Both claim prestige, strength, knowledge, ancestry, acclaim, Noble Clan status, unfairly symmetrical attractiveness, perfect complexions, increased sickness immunity, large chakra pools, richness.

You have a Sharingan that can copy jutsus and chakra flow and memorize everything?

Oh, big deal.

We have a Byakugan that can do the two former, as well as see through basically everything, and it doesn't deteriorate eyesight or require trauma to trigger or provoke mania.

You produce genii and prodigies every single generation?

Oh, who cares.

We produce a genius or prodigy every other generation or so, who are, on the whole, significantly well-balanced and who have never deserted the village or otherwise given in to insanity and snapped from the pressure.

You have the Konohagakure Police?

Oh, you can have that.

We don't have to deal with civilians, and have more Jounin in the workforce as well as more Chuunin pulled for Compound patrol-duty.

(You have gorgeous hair?

Um, puh-lease.

Bitch.

Like, have you seen this hair, these sumptuous locks and perfect fringe and glossy shine?

Girl [and Uchiha in general], we rule the hair game.

And just where do you think you buy your shampoos and conditioners and oils and frizz-sprays from?

Uh-huh.

That's right.)

Cold-blooded Hyuuga are capable of deep devotion, unchanging constancy, emotionally removed logic.

Naturally, they clash against the hot-blooded Uchiha, who are known for their passion and rage and scorn and desperation and madness, zipping between extremes within a heartbeat.

(It's actually rather ironic.

Water tends to be the Hyuuga affinity, despite their insignia of a flame, and fire tends to be the Uchiha affinity, despite their symbol of a fan.)

One simmers, cool and maybe lukewarm. One forcibly freezes, cold but wanting to explode.

Needless to say, they bring out the worst in each other.

The Uchiha trump card and tipping point over the Hyuuga has always been the fact that they were one of the founding Clans.

The Hyuuga trump card and tipping point over the Uchiha has always been the fact that they were founded from their Clan.

Then the Uchiha Clan is massacred down to one child and the rivalry is mostly accepted as the Hyuuga's final win.

Until the Hyuuga Heiress-apparent begins training with the Uchiha Heir-apparent.

Well...

That complicates things.

(Hinata gets away with it by telling Hiashi she merely upholding their rivalry by testing herself against the Uchiha and comparing their improvement.

Hiashi is grudgingly content with it so long as the elders are off his back about it, which translates to so long as Hinata keeps reporting wins.

Sasuke doesn't exactly have any other Uchiha to excuse himself to.

This isn't as reassuring as one might believe.)


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Re-posted, hastily. Separating my drabbles from 'Bricks' into chapters.

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-Review.-