"You are the nest. You are the hatchling. You are the chrysalis. You are the progeny. You are the rot that falls from stars. You may not understand what I mean. You will."
- Rick Yancey, The Isle of Blood
雛
I spread the white of my scroll across the neatly trimmed grass, the kanji I've practically memorized laid out in case I needed a refresher.
Here, it is noiseless—not that the rest of the Hyuuga compound is particularly disruptive in the first place. Instead, it comes with a sort of discontent, when you realize the hundreds of eyes that were known to encompass all could be upon you at any time. Typically, it was frowned upon to activate your Byakugan in the compounds outside of training, but it wasn't a definite rule. And like all rules, the main clan is always exempt.
If you thought about it, it really was messed up. The fact that the main branch was allowed to peek into our lives at whim, just like how they held the power of life and death over their clan members.
A leverage born from promises of pain and death, our fates cradled in the hand of one man.
It was a dystopia I wish I could forget I lived in.
That's why, sitting in the cover of the blooming Hyuuga gardens, far away from the creaking of the compound and all alone, I feel much more at ease.
My legs were crossed and my hands were held in the sign for concentration that I was taught, helping me focus on the chakra inside me. It acted as a sort of stabilizer, a way to keep me anchored while allowing my mind to wander. Like a fishing rod, if my body was a pool of string. I theorized it had something to do with the manipulation of the tenketsu in my hand, the easiest ones to use in most cases, despite me not actively channeling energy into them.
Chakra...is a strange concept. It's the energy running through bodies, it's the force that breathes life into the body, a necessity. Yet, it is not part of your body. It belongs to you, but it is not any form of organ or muscle.
It belongs to you, but it does not.
It simply...exists. As a source of stamina. As a weapon, as a prelude to jutsus and walking on water and a manner of other manipulations. Made not of molecules, but of something completely beyond the grasp of mankind.
It's not natural.
And that's why I can pick it out as easily as an eel swimming in a pond of colorful koi.
The sweet perfume of the azalea bush to my left drew its intoxication across my nose. I breathed it out, and felt myself sink within.
Deep in the middle of my solar plexus was a stagnant warmth. The surface of a lake, undisturbed. Perfectly even.
I acted as if to dip down, feeling my imaginary hand phase through the sharp tension of the top. The 'liquid' followed me as I withdrew my touch, pulling itself from the surface. It seemed sluggish, as if reluctant to leave the pool.
I beckoned, and it finally moved, finding my persuasion greater than that of its origin.
Charming the snake, I drew it up, up, up, sometimes having to back down in order to pull again with greater strength. I managed this until it got to somewhere between the top of my stomach and the bottom of my lungs and the string grew too thin for me to drag any further.
I let it slip out of my grasp.
Taking a deep breath, I wiped away the sweat that had began to bead at my hairline and started over.
The second time, the chakra barely reached further.
The third time, I tried to gather more before pulling it up. This seemed to work, but it took longer to coax this bigger mass to do as I willed. It began to grow turbulent, like the waves of an ocean, the further it got from the source. I had to make sure to press it down.
The fifth time, I got the chakra to the bottom of my neck.
The tenth time, it made a slow process towards the base of my skull.
The sixteenth time, I had managed to get the strand towards the systems in my head, by my eyes. There was not enough, however, for me to do anything with it. I was panting from the exertion. Holding even this much chakra was as sapping as holding myself in a plank. The longer it went on, the more tired I got.
Sternly tugging on the strand, I tried to demand more from it. I felt the bottom slosh slightly, as if it had heard but didn't deem my request worthy enough.
I tugged again, harder.
It didn't bulge.
Irritated, I took another long breath to calm myself, before trying persuasion again. My chakra seemed to respond quite well to that.
There was a bit of timid movement near my core at my insistence, an almost unsure wobble, before some surged up the chain. Smirking in triumph, I encouraged it to travel further.
Look, I prompted, the path has already been made. Just follow.
The chakra slipped smoothly up my previous strand, before finally pooling near the thin tip I held in my head.
The flooding provided some extra pressure in my head, which gave me a bit of a headache as I wasn't yet used to the gathering of chakra in specific areas, and I let go, satisfied for the time being.
Immediately I slumped over into the grass. Short green strands ticked my cheek, not enough so that it was a bother, and the warmth of the sun sank into me comfortingly.
My eyes slid close.
A nap sounded nice right now.
(I'm already asleep by the time the idea forms.)
雛
Natsuki Hyuuga clicked her tongue at the sight of her daughter slumbering in the middle of the azalea. The sun had already begun to sink into the horizon, so she had come out to find her absent daughter, only for her byakugan to tell her that Naoko had decided to sleep in the gardens again.
Running a thumb over one of the pink blossoms nearby thoughtfully, Natsuki plucked it tenderly.
Naoko is carried home on her mother's back, kimono smudged with dirt and grass stains, and a small, rosy flower tucked behind her ear.
The fragrance follows her all the way into her bed.
雛
It was another beautiful day today, the white fluffs of cloud perfectly set against a blue sky. The heat of the sun was gone, pulled away by shadows and the damp of the tapping rains and a crisp wind.
Fall had emerged from the remains of summer, and the ruckus of singing sparrows was only accented by a new crackling of drying leaves.
It was also a Tuesday, and my mother was preparing to drag me from the (relative) safety of the clan walls to go out to meet with some of her friends. Sitting in front of the mirror as she yanked my tangled hair into place, I could only feel a bud of nervousness. This would be my first time outside of the compound.
My regular gray kimono was traded for one of a muted orange, nothing too bright or saturated. Only the main family could wear eye-catching colors.
I didn't know why. All it would do was make them stick out more, paint a target on their backs. But I suppose that is the point, isn't it? A display of power, in that they were special from the rest and moreover, perfectly capable.
Even things like a simple kimono had to be turned into a means of an end, here.
I shifted uncomfortable as Kaa-san tied the black obi around my waist a little too tightly. I could feel it pushing against my skin with every breath I took.
I didn't say a word.
We left the compound hand in hand, greeting those we saw in our path with a polite nod of the head. I stared up at the large trees that began to appear as we walked from the more desolate area where the Hyuuga clan lived onto the main road.
We had trees. Of course we did. Large, curving red maple and pink sakura and green willow. They just didn't compare to the pure height of the ones that I saw now, easily taller than three buildings stacked upon one another.
Their leaves were still a dark green, only the beginning of their winter transformation.
Within my first steps into the heart of Konoha, I realized two things.
One, the heavy folds of my kimono bunching around my legs as I walked provided an odd sense of comfort.
And two, Konoha was loud. And bright. And overwhelming.
From the sound of blacksmithing across the corner to the gossiping civilian women to the cloying whiff of meat, the barrage of sensations almost made me feel sick.
I could handle dying. I could handle years of floating in an infinite void, devoid of taste and touch and sound. I could handle rebirth, breastfeeding, and training as hard as I could to immerse myself in this world and make my family happy. I could handle the calming solitude of the compound. But I could not handle the overwhelming noises that made my ears ring when all those around me were always taken to speaking in soft voices, colors that were almost too-bright, a dizzy contrast from the mostly monotone shades of the kimonos worn by members of my clan.
I had gotten a little too comfortable with my surroundings, I assume, in those years of nothing.
Kaa-san hummed and looked back at me as if she expected my disorientation, letting me grab the soft yellow of her kimono to stabilize myself.
Eventually, all the smells and movements filter themselves out with time. Other than the occasional drifts of a strong or unpleasant scent, my senses became accustomed to the chaos, and I took a new interest in the structures around me.
There were many different buildings, of all shapes and sizes and colors. There was no orderly structure to them, a short and wide building could be right next to a long and tall one. A blue building right next to a red one. The ones with tiling had them in a multitude of colors as well, different from the shade of the building and covered in electrical cords. There were stores and apartments and signs and places that just had flaps of cloth for a door, and there were what seemed like a million tiny alleyways and crevices to slip through.
It was...exciting.
The colors breathed a sort of life onto the streets. It didn't feel like a city, it wasn't nearly big or filthy or monotone enough. It felt like something warm and homely and familiar. It felt like somewhere that I would one day be able to know inside and out, know every shop and every corner and where every pathway led.
I find that I suddenly can't wait to see the rest of Konoha.
Of course, the most prominent view of the village is the monument carved into the side of the mountain, overlooking all. The four Hokages.
Names flash into my brain before I could help it. Hashirama Senju, with the image of a grinning man with long brown hair. Tobirama Senju, hateful brother, cold and biting like the winter ocean and hair that matched the snow. Hiruzen Sarutobi, current Hokage, wise but too soft.
Something prickles inside me, whispering Minato Namikage, bright sun. Tsunade, strong medic. Kakashi, Naruto- stop. No more.
I don't want to know anymore.
The memories return to their chambers and lie in wait for the next trail marker.
We walk for a little longer, and my mother tells me that it shouldn't be much further.
Sometimes, I catch sight of dark flickers along the roof, but they're always too fast for me to see clearly.
For the next ten minutes, I settled for watching the shops we passed by. By the time we finally reached the restaurant, I had a talley of seventeen weapon shops, twenty three shinobi clothing stores, two places that sold 'exclusive' ninja gear, nineteen scroll shops, five military ration centers, and one store dedicated entirely to pranks involving bombs.
All around were shops that pandered to ninja needs, usually run by civilians. That made sense. There was a sort of scale to be kept, I suppose. The civilians relied on the ninjas to take jobs, either from them or outside sources, to spend at their stores, stimulating the economy. Meanwhile, many civilians, especially children, are taught to regard the shinobi as a functional necessity and positive aspect of their environment. That was probably the reason a lot of civilian children flooded into the Academy during their first year or so, before they realized the true divide in power.
Kaa-san and I arrive at what looks like a fancy tea-house, the exterior painted a calming green and decorated with artisanal plants. As we stepped inside, I felt the cold air conditioning from the inside lick at my ankles. Luckily, my kimono was enough to keep me warm.
The waitress dressed formally in a nice two-tone kimono leads us over to a booth in the corner at my mother's name, and I notice that all of the seats were covered with a heavy black curtain, preventing me from seeing who was sitting where.
Paranoid shinobi.
The area itself from what I could see was quite wide and, as most buildings in Konoha, made out of wood. There was a pleasant smell, a mixture of food and sandalwood, that wasn't overwhelming. All around me, I can see waiters slipping in and out of black curtains, the seats all lined against walls. The middle was occupied by wooden tables and what I could only guess to be civilians.
As we reach our table, I realize that someone's already there, waiting.
It takes a little bit of a struggle for me to climb onto the seats and right myself before I could get a good look at our table mate. By then, my mother was already next to me and the waitress had left with a soft sway of the privacy curtain. The rest of the world is shut out, and I'm suddenly made aware of the quiet.
"Ah, Asuka. You're early, as usual."
The woman, Asuka, simply nods. She wore tinted goggles that hid her eyes and a high collar cloak in a pleasant shade of mossy forest green. Her sleeves were long as well, resting on the table as her gloved hands cupped around a glass of water. Her hair was short, an inky black that curled into her collar, and her hiate-ate was stitched onto her jacket in the form of a silver gleam at her sleeve.
"Naoko, meet Asuka Aburame. We were jounin partners." Kaa-san says.
Aburame...the name sounded very familiar, and her appearance did too. I try to remember my brief lessons on the village history and clans.
Oh, the bug kekkei genkai, right? They tended to keep to themselves, are not much involved in politics, but are worthy shinobi. Not a lot of information is given on them, as the Aburame are highly secretive. The glasses and concealing uniforms were usually markers.
"Hello, Aburame-san."
"It is nice to meet you, Naoko. Just call me Asuka."
I felt myself comforted by the wash of her voice, a smooth alto, like water sliding down my back.
"Okay, Asuka-oba-san."
Settling in, I propped open the menu in front of me and looked over the choices. I couldn't recognize half of the teas listed, just knowing that the one we drank most often at our house(and Tou-san liked to drink tea a lot) was kabusecha. It wasn't bad, in fact, I quite enjoyed the hint of sweetness with its crisp taste.
I shrugged, deciding to let my mother or whoever else pick out the tea. I had no real preference.
The snacks, on the other hand…
I drooled.
"Kaa-san…" I tugged at her sleeve, and she looked over from her own menu questioningly.
I pointed to the mochi palate sampler eagerly. All she did was sigh.
"I swear Naoko, I don't know where you get your sweet tooth from...neither your Tou-san nor I like sweets that much."
Yeah, it came more from my previous life's encounters than genetics(although I've found myself to dislike foods I used to be okay with, and like other things I would never have even considered-like wakame, a sort of seaweed). I had limited encounters with Japanese cuisine, a pity as I found it now to suit nearly all my tastes. Especially the mild but not-too-sugary sweets.
The waitress came back to give us our teas and take our additional orders. Kaa-san poured out a cup for me, warning me it was hot.
I sniffed curiously at the clear orange color, wondering what it tasted like. The scent was nice, at least. Something between zest and lavender.
"Oh, there you guys are!" A young blonde woman poked her head in through the curtain, taking a quick glance around before shooing Asuka further down the bench and sitting down.
"Sorry I was late, had to do duty at the flower shop today and the last shipment ran a little late."
Asuka simply grunted in acknowledgement while my mother smiled.
"No worries, Chuya-san. Meet my daughter." She paused for a moment to let the other woman pat down her blonde hair. Her bands were held back in the back of her head by what were most likely clips, and she finally quit fidgeting to stare at me with curious brown eyes.
"Naoko, say hello to Chuya Yamanaka. She was part of my old genin team from the Academy."
I perked up. Someone that knew my mother back when she was a genin?
"H-Hello…" I offered her a small, nervous smile when my voice unexpectedly cracked in the middle of my words. I'm not going through puberty yet goddammit.
She didn't seem to notice, though, or perhaps she did and found it endearing as she instantly began cooing.
"What a sweetie! You're the cutest, aren't ya." I grimaced as she reached over the table to pinch my face. I knew I was still squishy, but that didn't mean it was comfortable…
When she retracted her hands, I rubbed the red marks left with a pout. Next time, I'll just save myself the trouble and avoid it.
Chuya chattered on, a bright chirp to her voice.
"Honestly, Natsuki-chan, I really didn't expect you to be the first of us to have a child. You were always so disinterested! I thought you were just gonna end up married to your work. But look at you now! A husband and a child! I almost can't believe it."
Kaa-san took a sip of her tea.
"Well, there was always something different about the thought and the action. I'm glad I had her, even if I do miss active duty."
I pressed against her side, and she gave me a brief squeeze before turning her attention towards the woman across from us again.
"But enough about me, how have things been for you two? I know you haven't yet retired, Asuka-san. How are the others?"
While they played catch-up, I zoned out, paying most of my attention to the colorful plate of different flavored mochi that had been set down in the middle of the table.
My mouth watered.
So many colors. So many choices. Which one should I choose first? How about...that red one? My hand darted out, and I claimed my prize.
I chewed carefully, noting how the mochi seemed even softer than the ones Kaa-san made, if not less sticky. The filling touched my taste buds, and it took me a few seconds before I classified it as red bean paste.
I blew on my tea and drank some when I was sure it wouldn't burn me. A pleasantly nutty yet citrusy flavor flooded my mouth.
Licking my lips in consideration, I took another bite of mochi.
The tea was good. The food was good. Life was good.
Content, I tuned back into the conversation.
Chuya was a chunin, preferring to do more missions in and around Konoha than traveling to other countries. She shrugged, saying she still didn't feel much of an urge to leave the village(although the pressure was definitely on, tensions amongst villages have been rising, they whispered). She usually worked at the flower shop on days she wasn't busy.
Asuka was an active jounin, and while she couldn't talk a lot about the specifics of missions, she still shared some anecdotes that incited laughter. She was thinking of taking on her own genin team this or the next year, saying that things were getting a little lonely with people retiring left and right to start families.
A few hours later, we said goodbye and Kaa-san and I started the walk home. I was a little disappointed, as it had been fun listening to something other than tales and lectures. Not that I had anything against the latter material, as they were perfectly interesting, it was just the variety found in hearing about the real world, the world I would be living in, from the perspective of others. That, and all that yummy mochi...though I think I might end with a stomach ache from all that sugar.
I grabbed my abdomen as my insides twisted to affirm my concerns, and groaned in discomfort.
Kaa-san laughed.
"That's what happens when you eat ten mochi all by yourself, Naoko."
I whimpered, raising my arms up and begging for her to carry me. She gave me the equivalent of a Hyuuga eye roll, but I saw the spark of mirth in her gaze.
"Alright, this time. But learn not to eat so many sweets next time."
I nodded solemnly, and Kaa-san hoisted me into her arms. As we walked along the less-crowded streets in the orange wash of the sunset, I felt the world cinch together in completion for one brief moment.
雛
The start of the Third Shinobi War quickly put an end to any of their dreams of peace. Asuka is sent to the front lines, and we don't see her for another three months.
It's only when she stumbles back with a third of her platoon, missing half her arm, that we know she's still alive.
雛
The world is in hyper definition. It feels like a blindfold has been lifted from my eyes. I can see the chrysanthemum blooming behind me, the oak tree to its left—things that I shouldn't be able to even glimpse. If I wanted to, I could count every strand of grass on the ground, follow the path of every individual ant carrying food back to their colony, see the details of every last hair on their backs if I focused hard enough.
My head pounds, and I feel nauseous.
I only see in that vision for a brief second, though, before the chakra delicately directed through my system disperses. Just as well, because I have to scramble to lean over into the bushes and puke out my disorientation.
The glowing pride burning in my chest almost makes up for the sickly feel of cold sweat running down the back of my neck and the acidic taste of bile in my mouth.
After a few more days, a lot more tries, a handy bucket nearby, and more instances of passing out than I had ever had in my previous life combined, I could hold my byakugan for two minutes before having to stop. The amount of concentration needed was insane. I had to slowly feed the chakra into my eyes, as any mishap could end up in permanent pathway damage.
The entire ordeal was just hazardous in general.
In that time, I determined the full distance of my sight to be around a meter, the furthest I could see before everything rubbed away into darkness. Blatantly short. I can't imagine the amount of information in the kilometers my clansmen were able to see, when even my small range threatened a sensory overload.
Tou-san gave me a proud smile when I showed him the bulging of my eyes, and Kaa-san just shook her head and tried to strap me into my bed at how sick I looked, even with a gleam of delight in her eyes. Regardless of how grueling the process had been, it was all worth it for that brightness in their face.
After all, a Hyuuga was nothing without their byakugan.
Something ugly twisted within me, beyond the clamminess of my hands and the pale drag of my skin, obviously unhealthy.
A Hyuuga was nothing without their byakugan.
雛
"Sorry Asuka, can you take her for today? I know it's sudden, but Chuya's not in the village right now and something suddenly came up."
I looked up at the familiar Aburame woman as my mother flitted about, unusually distressed, and gave her a trepid smile and a wave with the hand that wasn't clutched in my progenator's hold.
Following her...incident on the battlefields, Asuka had been confined to the village for the past few months to recover. We regularly visited her in the hospital when she was still being monitored, bringing salty snacks(her favorite) and brightly blooming bouquets on days Chuya couldn't make it. There was, ultimately, nothing to distract her in the empty rooms of the infirmary. Although she had greeted us with the same sense of calm as the first time I met her, there was a tenseness to her frame that betrayed her discomfort.
She had lost her dominant hand. Things were suddenly much harder.
She was unable to write, unable to read either without a good amount of difficulty. She had to stretch awkwardly to reach for things over her shoulder, or even to wash her back. She had trouble doing things as basic as holding chopsticks, much less form seals and throw weapons.
If she was let out onto the field, it was a guaranteed death.
None of us mentioned it, but we all knew that her career as a jounin was over. She would be reduced to C ranks and under, living the rest of her life faced with the scorn of those that just couldn't understand or care enough to.
I can't imagine what it was like, watching your comrades leave for battle every day, knowing that not all of them will return, and being helpless to stop it.
Asuka still reached out for things, sometimes, forgetting that she was missing part of herself. The look on her face afterwards was the one of the things I hated most in this world. It always takes her a few hours to recover and go back to normalcy afterwards.
And that, was nothing salted caramel and lilacs could fix.
"It is not a problem, Natsuki-san. I am not busy today."
With a quick customary rundown of "Behave, okay, Naoko?", Kaa-san is gone with the wind and I turn to the taciturn Aburame I've been left with, uncertain of what to do.
Asuka seems to have none of the same reserves and starts walking back through the gates. I follow dutifully.
I make sure to watch the ground when I walk, not wanting to tread on any bugs. I knew how the Aburame got about their companions at times, proven by the wails of anguish Asuka had let out once when three of her kikaichū were lost to a carnivorous plant in an unfortunate accident at the Yamanaka flower shop.
The woman in question sent me a quick look from over her shoulder, muttering that it was okay and they would scatter if in danger.
We wound through the rest of the compound wordlessly, a building made of a much darker wood than the Hyuuga one. I take note of the many hives inhabiting the corners and the sugared honey slathered along the side of the walkway.
Asuka opens the door to what I can only assume is her room, letting me in before closing the door. There's two piles of metal on the floor, along with a bottle of polish and a worn looking cloth.
"Pardon my intrusion…" I mumble, more out of ingrained habits than anything.
Asuka sits down, picking up the cloth carefully. I sat down a few feet away.
She moves a weapon away from the pile to her front, resting a knee on the corner of it to start polishing. The slight clumsiness in her movement reveals that it's a method she was still getting used to.
Neither of us were very talkative, which made for a lot of quiet. That wasn't bad, however. I just sat and watched as she cleaned her already meticulous weaponry. Some were thinner at the blade, probably older weapons that had gone through many sharpenings. Others had different sized holes, and I wonder at how much use it would have to take to wear the middle of a shuriken down like that.
I watched the mechanical swipe of her cloth over the shining kunai, always ten strokes (I had counted), content.
"Have you begun training with weapons yet?"
At the soft question, I looked up. Asuka doesn't stop polishing.
"No."
Asuka held the four pointed star she had been polishing to the light, tilting it to watch the slide of light across the metal, checking for imperfections.
"Do you want to learn how?"
She threw the suggestion out as casually as if she were simply asking about the weather. As if she hadn't just offered to teach a two year old child how to throw a weapon. How to kill.
Some part of me whispers that this isn't normal. That living here isn't normal, that kimonos aren't normal, that dojutsus and wars and death aren't normal. That the last thing I would want is to take a life, and feel that warm red over my hands like a tattoo. Tainted innocence.
But I felt more hesitance in wondering if throwing a weapon would bring back memories she would rather not remember. That tiny voice in my head is once again silenced, because what was normal then isn't normal now.
Curiosity and excitement win out.
Asuka seems unbothered by my train of thoughts, picking out a few items from her polished pile. She stands up, teetering slightly before taking a step. I get up and follow her.
We walk to what looks like their main training ground, as recognizable as my own, except that it's surrounded by a swath of dark pine trees that occasionally give noisy chirps. A resting place for bugs, then.
There are a few children here, all older by a few years or more. They give Asuka a respectful greeting that she returns with a grunt.
I ignore their curious looks as she stands me in front of a log a distance away from the others. Asuka's voice is marble as she tells me how to shift my body, cold in a way I've never heard. When I've met her standards in terms of form, she presses a kunai into my hand.
The dense metal feels wrong in my hold, but I do as she says.
The first kunai barely hits outside the circle.
I test the weight again, evaluating. The next one flies with slightly more accuracy, as I adjust to the mass and the timing. At this distance, I don't have to worry about significant arcs. The natural force of the kunai handles that.
It only takes a few tries for me to find a rhythm.
The ones after don't miss.
The log gets further and further away as Asuka pulls me backwards. The tweaks I need to make are minimal, ones I get down in seconds. Throwing becomes as natural as breathing, and I let my body twist to generate the extra amount of force needed to stick the weapons.
The Aburame that had been training next to us have stopped, watching with newfound interest.
I let another volley of deadly points fly into the log. They cluster in the crowded center like weeds. When I run out, Asuka produces more from thin air. I don't question where they come from.
By the end of the day, the log looks more like a porcupine than a block of wood.
I can't help but imagine how pleased Tou-san would be when I showed him my new skill. Facing the woman that had been silently standing behind me, I beam.
"Thank you...Asuka-oba-san."
She's motionless for a minute before she offers me a faint nod. The air around her is lighter now, but something about her radiates what feels like uncertainty. My smile fades a little.
Asuka gently lays a hand on my head, and I feel my apprehension dissipate.
"Good job."
I help her pull out all the kunai before we head back. The others that had been here had already left about an hour prior, and I happily compared my kunai positions on the target with theirs in my mind.
We walk back, and there are more bugs in the grass now. They stir with every step we take, ladybugs and beetles and all manners of insects that I knew a previous me would have screeched at. But in the Aburame Compound, they do not touch guests without permission, each and every one of them under the firm hold of the clan head.
Dragonflies buzz over our heads, wings glimmering iridescent in the fading light. The sun was starting to lower, but their dances did not cease.
To my surprise, my mother is already waiting at the gates. I refrain from throwing myself into her arms, but I cling onto her leg. Her hand instinctively comes around me even as she addresses her old comrade.
"I hope she wasn't too much trouble, Asuka-san."
The other woman watched us, an emotion in her eyes that I couldn't see through her goggles, before she spoke.
"It was no issue, Natsuki. You know you and your daughter are welcome here at any time."
With a wave goodbye, we began on our way home in the orange of the dusk, me filling the peace with rambling and flashing of the kunai that Asuka had slid into the obi of my kimono.
Kaa-san's eyes glimmer, and she reeks of a hidden mischief as she shows me tricks she picked up in her youth.
My laughs resound in an echo too childish for its contents.
雛
I never get the chance to show Tou-san my kunai skills. Hizashi Hyuuga hasn't been home in months, directing forces along the Northern border, showing allies and enemies alike why our clan was to be feared.
Secretly, I wonder if one day it'll be our door the genin knock on, delivering a scroll with kanji so dark it blots out the sun.
Secretly, I wonder if there even will be a scroll, or if it'll just be a slip of paper, declaring that a body was never found.
雛
The second Natsuki deemed her daughter old enough to not die without her watch, she strapped back on her hiate-ate, rolled thick, white bandages back over her legs, and shot off to the Hokage Tower to receive a mission. The war was in full-swing, and they needed every competent shinobi they could get their hands on.
In her absence, Natsuki's sister-in-law volunteered to babysit, claiming that it was no problem as she wanted practice for when she herself would eventually have children.
Hisano Hyuuga was a gentle woman. Delicate, refined, soft as the morning dew on the arum lily that lures you in with its sweetness, and just as pale. Her dark lashes brought out the shine of her bright eyes and her hair was a dark, dark purple.
I could easily see how she managed to enrapture my uncle.
"What do you want to do, Naoko-chan?"
I twist my hands behind my back, reluctant to tell her that I still had half of a scroll on genjutsus to read, aiming to practice, birds to feed, and purple hyacinths to cultivate.
"Why don't we paint?"
I find myself sitting in front of the koi pond, leaking color onto a white canvas. Hisano hums a slow melody next to me. It can't make up for the sweet crooning of my mother's flute, but it reassures me all the same.
Discreetly, the tension in my shoulders ebb away.
雛
I turn three alone in the silence of my room. Kaa-san and Tou-san are both on missions. Curling up around the fabric of my blanket, I try to pretend that it's something it isn't(—but nothing can replace the warmth of familiar bodies).
We celebrate two months later, when Kaa-san finds time after being released from the hospital for chakra deprivation.
This time, it's explosive tags and ninja wire and weights.
(I fasten the latter across both my wrists and ankles and throw the others in my supply box, for when I myself head into war.)
雛
My chakra is a warm hum in the center of my stomach, waiting to be used. With my efforts, it has become much more pliant, and the range of my byakugan expands to three meters. I've learned how to pick out the bits of information I need from the ones I don't, and the blurry pinpoints that used to be streaks of brightness inside the body have become sharper to my eyes.
By spring, I've memorized two hundred and seventy eight of the three hundred and sixty one tenketsu in the body. The smaller points are still hard to pick out, but with each exercise they become clearer as well. Hisano is surprising in her support, helping me with the kata I haven't yet learned. I find it much easier to angle each strike correctly when I have a visualization of where I'm supposed to hit.
There was nothing stimulating to do but paint and train, and painting sometimes brings back memories I don't want to think about. It's been that way since I could move my tiny body, away from the reliance of others.
I've learned to find joy in the slick of sweat on my skin, the bright energy in work, the relieving caress of success. It was amazing, this body. It didn't have any of the awkwardness or sluggishness of my old one. It was nimble and agile, fingers and limbs able to fly through seals and stanzas much faster than I ever could've done in my previous life.
And as such, my skills were improved and honed.
I won't lie. Sometimes, I remember colorful cartoons and the freedom to go wherever I wanted and hours of browsing on a tiny electric box, seeing the globe from the comfort of my bed, and I miss them. The savory flavor of a pizza, the jolt of black coffee(—and a life dedicated to worthless work).
But then sometimes, when I think of hours of sitting and staring at a textbook or a board or a website and memorizing and writing and trying to dig up information on test days, I'm glad that I'm not there.
It's a seesaw of balance. Good parts and bad, and all I can do is face reality regardless.
Every morning, I wake up in the morning and let more chakra trickle into the sealed cloth around my limbs, a new weight that I forget by nightfall.
In my free time, I stick leaves on my body as my aunt(that title sounds so strange in my mind, I muse. None of them have ever felt related to me except my mother and my father) spun scarves with her hands and fables with her mouth.
The Hyuuga, I've found, privately enjoy telling stories.
Sometimes, we sit in the middle of the amaryllis, weaving flowers together in bracelets and crowns and rings that remind me of Chuya's elaborate creations until I forget that I fear the color red(I haven't seen her for five days now). Sometimes, we sit and draw, not needing a single sound but the ringing of the compound chimes as they click against each other.
Sometimes, when weeks pass without a sign of my parents, I go back to watch the hyacinth under the solitary light of the moon. The purple reflects in the white of my eyes, and I wonder if I'll ever smell that melancholy mint ocean again.
Then, there are days when even Hisano gets restless. Days when too many people are gone to feel like we're a clan. Days when we walk around the compound aimlessly, feeding koi that haven't been tended to in days. It's on those days that she takes us out of the compound to wander around Konoha instead.
I meet Uzumaki Kushina like that, one hazy evening, at her favorite ramen stand.
"Maa maa, who's this cutie? You didn't tell me you had a kid, dattebane!" The jinchuriki exclaims as she bends down, grinning at me with a vulpine smile. She's vibrant, like fireworks in July, but I can't help the cold iron that runs down my spine at her words.
Even when everyone has bigger concerns than unspoken commands, I don't let the absences rub the trepidation away. The Hyuuga House was a hidden minefield of injustice and elders with sticks up their ass, solidified principles reaching back to far beyond the creation of Konoha.
You did not discuss the main house. You did not discuss the seal. You did not discuss being so directly related to the main house when you weren't, despite the fact that we were all connected in some way or the other.
You let the slights and the difference fester obediently in your mind like an infection. Arrogance breeding power breeding hatred.
"No...this is my niece. Naoko Hyuuga." Hisano's soft voice has a little bit of an edge. I ignore the way the reminder sinks down my gut like a too-big bite of fish.
Hisano might be nicer than the rest, but the main house will always be different from the rest of us. If there is any label for special, it's them.
Kushina doesn't seem to catch the subtle bite as she sheepishly rubs the back of her head and apologizes.
"Ahaha...sorry about that."
She looked at me again, sunny.
"Nice to meetcha! I'm Kushina Uzumaki, dattebane! But you can just call me Kushina-nee."
Her hair is red. Fire engine red, cherry red, blood red. Tomato. Jalapeno.
She lets her name slip through her lips so casually, unaware of the pain and the hurt that trails after her like a shadow. Unaware of her legacy, the son that'll take on her name and world all at once.
I smile back, because that's all I can do at this point, and she can't tell that it's fake because nobody can tell.
"Ohayo, Kushina-nee."
We take seats on the stools next to her, the savory scent of broth wafting appealingly from behind the counter. The owner, Teuchi, greets us with a welcoming smile.
"Ah, Hisano-sama. I haven't seen you around for a while now. I see you've brought a young Hyuuga with you today!"
The man, while not yet old, still gave off a grandfatherly vibe. A real grandfather, not the one that refuses to see me because my father was born second.
I let the homely feel of the ramen stand sink into me, reluctant to melt but feeble against the combined influences of Kushina and Teuchi. A deadly combination indeed.
"So, what'll it be today?"
"I'll have a Tonkotsu ramen, and..." Hisano glances at me, prompting. I quickly scan the menu.
There are only four types of ramen, the four traditional ones: Tonkotsu, Shoyu, Miso, and Shio. From the corner of my eye, I can match Kushina's meal with the image of the last one.
I almost want to smile at the swirling fish cakes floating on the top of her soup, delicately picked around to be saved for the last bite.
I wasn't quite a fan of miso, as it usually included soybean paste,. The tonkotsu looked too thick for my light stomach at the moment, and the shio had seafood that I wasn't in the mood for.
"A shoyu ramen."
Teuchi gives us a "coming right up!" and leaves the front.
Our food comes in record time, looking delicious. I feel my mouth watering, and I think I understand the whole rave about ramen now. Kushina is already on her third bowl.
I drink a sip, and the flavor floods my taste buds. The broth slides down my throat to spread throughout my body, warming me from inside out.
Suddenly, I feel ravenous.
The ramen is gone in record speed down my gullet, and I groan afterwards, laying my head on the counter as the food hits me all at once. The Uzumaki two seats down chuckles as she finishes her tenth bowl.
Here, trapped in the cozy lighting of a small ramen shop and its delectable-smelling heat, filled to the brim with a food-induced laziness, I never want to leave.
Outside, the world isn't half as bright. And I know that this bloom of carefree security is only temporary.
雛
It was a Friday afternoon. Hisano had 'clan business' to attend to today, so I found myself in the company of the glowing Yamanaka that was one of my mother's best friends. Chuya, having just returned that morning from her mission, was quick to regale me with tales of her courier assignments to outposts in Konoha.
And if she brought back hastily written letters in elegant fonts I quickly recognized, I most definitely did not nearly bubble out a sob right then and there.
The chunin sat patiently behind me, lacing honeysuckle into the dark brown of my hair while I ran my eyes over the short sentences again and again, trying to imprint them into my mind.
Sweet Naoko, we are okay. I can not describe how much I miss you. If all things end up well, we'll return to Sec...irty...ou..r(the words are scratched out) you soon. Your mother and I are in the same quadrant. I will make sure she's safe.
Darling, I hope you are well. Do not push yourself too hard training, I will be mad if I see you stationed here. Don't forget to eat your vegetables. I need not remind you of the mochi limit, do I? I will make sure to look after your father. And in case we don't make it home in time,
Happy Birthday, Naoko.
("E-Eh? Are you crying, Nao-chan?!" "N-no..." "There there. They said they would be back soon!")
Wiping away the embarrassing wet on my face, I tuck the letters securely in my obi, mentally noting that I would need to get more suitable clothes soon. I was going easy on training, but it would only be an uphill climb from here.
Chuya plucks more of the white and gold flowers and teaches me how to suck out the nectar.
The sun sets on another day, the taste of lingering sweetness on my tongue.
I couldn't help but be wistful in that moment.
Maybe things would end up okay, after all.
雛
Hatchlings rustle out their feathers, drying from the slick of the egg. Their eyes pry open and their down grow in. For the next parts of their life, they'll be confined to the nest, fed and raised and growing and growing.
Now, the nestling prepares for what comes beyond.
雛
Purple Hyacinth represents sorrow, forgiveness, and regret. They are commonly used in funeral arrangements.
The other flowers mentioned have meanings as well, but that was the most prominent one.
Extra note: haha-ue is a formal way of saying mother, just like chichi-ue.
Credit to Cyndaquil123 for being my beta!
More interactions coming in the next chapter! Naoko's about ready to meet people outside of close family and friends, having been trapped in the compound simply because of Hyuuga habits(belief in superiority to other children, etc). But as she nears the Academy age, she's going to get more chances to explore Konoha.
See ya soon, and thanks for your support!