The revised version of the sixth chapter.

Standard disclaimer applies.

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Chapter 6

Traditions, Promises, and Realisations

Hinata stared at herself in the mirror. Behind her, handmaids worked frantically, pinning and tucking in her elegant kimono. Her hair was pulled up in a traditional manner, fastened with many ornaments and studded with pearls, the symbol of virginity. It was essential according to tradition; for today and the day which succeeded it.

It was here.

(FLASHBACK – 1 DAY AGO)

Hinata rose when she heard someone knocking on the door. "Come in," she said gently, and was very surprised to see, of all people, Jiraiya come striding in.

Over the past few weeks, both Jiraiya and Shizune had been training her in the traditional arts befitting the wife of a leader of the Uchiha. As the heiress of a prestigious clan, she had never been trained in these mannerisms, for she had been expected to lead the family, not support it. Therefore, though elegance, grace and poise were subjects hammered in, there were certain subtle quirks which had to be freshly instructed.

Both of the aforementioned trainers had been strictly instructing her in precisely the very things that a proper wife should be aware of; that is, how to please the guests, which kimono to choose for which occasion, the precise way to drink tea at certain ceremonies during different times of the month, how to conduct yourself in front of various members of the clan, etc. Every morning, she was now used to waking up and seeing Shizune at her side, ready with a new list of things to learn.

Today, however, both her trainers were absent, and when she had gone looking for them, she had been told that neither of them would instruct her that morning.

So, it was quite natural that she was startled to see the white-haired pervert inside her room.

"Relax, Hinata-chan, we're here to help you out for the super-important thing that's gonna take place tomorrow. We gotta make sure that Itachi's eyes fall out of his head when he sees you, don't we?" the Toad Sage said, holding up his hands and grinning in a manner that was seriously disturbing.

"O-of course," Hinata stammered, distracted by his words and the prospect they entailed.

Her engagement ceremony was tomorrow. Hinata could pretend that she had forgotten it, but what was the point in lying to herself? The ceremony had constantly been on her mind – she could not seem to bring herself to disregard it. How was she supposed to, anyway? This event would formally bind her to a man she had not even spoken a word to, ever. Of course, you might as well forget that he was, what, 4 years her elder? And that he was the best shinobi in the entire village, the youngest Chuunin, Jounin, and ANBU member ever. To say nothing of the fact that he probably despised her, not only because she was Hyuuga, but since he was also being forced to marry her.

Come to think of it, with that amazing reputation of his, and those killer looks, it would be a wonder if Itachi didn't already have a girlfriend. He did have a huge fanbase (she had heard rumours that it was even bigger than Sasuke's, and that was scary) and she had seem him around Mitarashi Anko a lot. Anko was pretty, smart, notoriously loose, had a foul mouth, and was an excellent shinobi – exactly the kind of girl that guys like him would like. How could she, who didn't have a figure to speak of, stuttered on every second word, was a miserable failure as a shinobi, and was as far as one could be from pretty, even compare with Anko?

Of course, you might as well forget the fact that she didn't even want to be married to Itachi.

But no, customs were customs, and treaties were treaties, and no matter how much you hated the other clan, and how much you backbitched about them, you still had to marry off your eldest daughter to them. Because that was tradition.

So anyway, to get back to the main point, the first reason why she wasn't really paying attention to the sage's proclamation was her own lackluster feelings.

The second was the EXTREMELY disturbing way in which he was looking at her.

The perverted sannin was quite literally perusing Hinata as though she was his morning meal. He was staring her up and down, and not only figuratively but also literally salivating. Hinata felt an unpleasant shiver run throughout her body. To be looked at this way, especially by a man, felt like she was being violated. Momentarily, she remembered the fragments of information that she had heard about him –how he had no respect for women, how he snuck into bathhouses to see ladies bathe, how he had once forced a female disciple of his to disrobe in front of an entire room of people.

She shivered – he would not force her to take off her clothes, would he? Even though he was alone in the room with her, and no one had any idea that he was here, or the fact that she was wearing nothing but her sleeping yukata, which had partially slid down to reveal a creamy shoulder…

"Take off your clothes, Hinata-chan," the white haired sannin suddenly said, a ghastly leer twisting his face in a demonic mask.

"EH?"

Startled, Hinata stared at him, unable to comprehend what she had just heard. He couldn't be telling her to strip for him, right? Surely he knew how inappropriate it would be for her to just…reveal herself… in front of a man, especially one who was not her husband. Even her father, or brothers if she had had any, were not allowed this much liberty.

"Hina-chan, please take off your clothes. Come here, I'll help you do it."

He indicated for her to approach. She was suddenly reminded of some of the books she had read – without her father's permission, of course, he would have never allowed her to read 'such disgusting filth', as he called it – and remembered the times when the victim is being forced into a position just like this as the murderer stalks her. How nobody hears their tearful scream, and how the dead body is eventually dragged into a stream and thrown in. And how the murderer sometimes committed other acts, which had never failed to leave her choking and gasping for breath, followed by emptying her latest meal into a basin.

Hinata scooted back nervously – Jiraiya-sama couldn't be like that. He was a kind man, the hero of the village, who had so generously volunteered to help her. And why would he do that to her, anyway? It wasn't like she was smart, or pretty, or even remotely desirable. It wasn't like she was Sakura…

The door suddenly slipped open, and a frowning Shizune made her way in. "Honestly, I just told you to bring the girl to me, and you take forever to do it. Mercy, couldn't you…" She stopped, noting the look of absolute horror on the scantily-clad girl's face as the towering male loomed smirking over her. "JIRAIYA-SAMA! What on earth are you trying to do to that poor girl?"

"Huh?" he looked back at her questioningly.

"H-he asked me to s-s-STRIP for him!" Hinata wailed, cowering in her bed.

Shizune's eyes narrowed, lips pressing together into bloodless medical nin pounced and forcibly dragged Jiraiya back from the frightened girl as she scrambled backwards thankfully.

Surprised, Hinata saw Jiraiya, his scary expression now gone, mouth turning up in a pout. "Jeez, Shizune, can't a guy work in peace? I was only trying to figure out which hiyoko would look best on her with her skin tone! I wasn't sure if I had to use the pink one or the blue one – it would all depend on her coloring. I was just matching the fabrics with that in mind, 'cause she wouldn't take off her yukata for some reason."

"You fool!" shrieked an enraged Shizune, hitting him so hard that he went sailing into the wall with all the grace and dignity of a sack of dirty laundry.

Hinata gulped – it was bad enough that they had a short-tempered Hokage and Sakura – if the kind-hearted Shizune also turned like that they were doomed.

"How can you expect her to take off her yukata in front of you?" the formerly gentle tutor roared as she advanced on her prey who hurriedly sprang upright and began to back away from her.

"Now, Shizu-chan, let's not get irrational! C'mon, it's Jiraiya here! You know me, I'm the very soul of courtliness when it comes to ladies, if you'll only consider my thoughtful and reasonable explanation you'll see… What are you doing with that kunai? Put that down!"

As she watched the two adults bicker while Jiraiya was clutching the rather large bump that had appeared on his head, Hinata felt a very discernible feeling of relief. So he wasn't doing that afterall. She had to get these thoughts out of her head. It was official – cut down on Sebold. The books may be heart-wrenching and tear-sprouting, but it wasn't worth the nightmares and paranoia that came with it.

(END FLASHBACK)

Hinata smiled discreetly to herself. After much unnecessary bloodshed and subsequent healing, Shizune had finally explained to Hinata that tomorrow her engagement to the heir of the Uchiha would be taking place, and that, under the orders of the Hokage and Hiashi Hyuuga, she and Jiraiya-sama were here to help with the preparations for the ceremony.

Various 'purifying' rituals had followed, evidently meant to make the bride as pure as possible for the prospective groom. The same rituals would be performed again, with many additions, before the wedding. Then an extensive manual on the subject of the proper procedure of an engagement ceremony, written by Shizune herself, was given to Hinata. "You may have attended many engagements before," she had said. "But I assure you that none of them will be on the scale of yours."

That had frightened her. What if she wasn't experienced enough to carry the ceremony off without a hitch? Not only would that offend the Uchiha, but it would also embarrass her father, who was bound to take out his frustration on her later. The Uchiha prince would doubtless be perfection itself in his part.

She was awoken from her reverie by the sound of the door sliding open. Shizune poked her head inside, eyes ringed with dark circles, looking unusually grave. "It is time," she said.

Hinata nodded almost imperceptibly. Here we go.

Uchiha Itachi almost fidgeted in his expensive traditional kimono and haori. Almost, but not quite. He didn't know who had picked that particular nagajuban, but it was as itchy as hell. To add insult to injury, his haori was ridiculously tight, even for his own slim, muscular fit. Beside him, Shisui was trying hard to hold in his amusement, for he alone saw through his old comrade's uncaring façade to how acutely uncomfortable he was feeling. Itachi personally thought that he looked rather like an overdressed chicken – without the rooster-hair of his brother, of course.

Sasuke had returned almost five days ago, and until yesterday, had been forbidden to see Itachi except during meals when they were being supervised by their father, who did not allow them to speak to each other. Even afterwards, when the younger son had been forcibly sent to his brother to help him with the traditional ceremonies that preceded the day of engagement, they had been unable to exchange any words of significance as they were under the hawk-like watch of Shisui's grandfather.

This was especially disturbing to Itachi, since it was quite obvious that Sasuke wanted to speak with him about something but was hesitating, perhaps because of the constant scrutiny, perhaps because of something else. It felt like he was betraying his brother by not even allowing him the basic privacy to have a conversation between two siblings.

Right now, the younger Uchiha was sitting two rows in front, again as tradition demanded. When the bride entered, he would be the one who would stand and guide her by the hand to where Itachi was would be in front of him, facing him, and the various ceremonies that made up today would begin.

Currently, everyone was waiting for the bride to appear. A messenger had already been dispatched to inform her that the time for the ceremony to begin had arrived. As he waited, Itachi could not help but notice the tense demeanours of his own father and that of the Hyuuga head, especially when compared to the almost maniacal grin of the Hokage. She was obviously in favour of this match. He wondered why she was here – according to tradition, only the bride and groom's family should be allowed inside the engagement, as opposed to the wedding, where anyone who was invited was allowed to come. Then again, Tsunade was the Hokage, so she could probably attend any ceremony she wanted.

Not that the family factor really kept matters like this private. The entire Uchiha clan was identified as his family, and none of them were willing to miss a ceremony as legendary as this. It seemed like the Hyuuga were of a similar mind on this point – he could see their white eyes everywhere, it seemed, surprisingly decked out in bright colours instead of their usual white. Of course, they were forbidden to dress so today – only the bride could deck herself out in that colour, as it was considered purest, and therefore desirable. He himself was wearing a clan-oriented dress, but a red kimono this time, with the black Uchiha fan in the back and a white nagajuban peeping from beneath. The red not only represented strength and masculinity, but also distinguished him from the many male members of his clan who were wearing the black kimono instead.

That didn't make it any more comfortable, though.

A whisper spread through the crowd, and he saw his brother sit up straighter as his eyes scanned the room for his charge. And then, like a perfectly orchestrated dance which only they could have performed, many layers of Hyuuga silently parted to create a path strewn with rose petals which had appeared from God-knows-where.

Then his maiden bride appeared.

She was merely a white ghost with very dark hair and extremely red lips, jewels in the ebony of her hair and a long line of attendants following her. These handmaidens effortlessly melted into the crowd as she took small, delicate steps forward, a nymph in a forest, surrounded by wildflowers in so many different colours.

A dark shape rose in front. He removed his eyes, which were riveted to the pale figure in white, to focus on Sasuke instead, who had risen to escort the bride to her seat. Intimidating in a navy kimono, which Itachi suspected was just as uncomfortable as his own, the young man stepped forward and took in his large grip the small pale, hand of the vision in white. His face was carefully composed, a blank mask, but Itachi could see a fire burning in their depths, which seemed to intensify when he touched her. It could be dismissed as revulsion for a hereditary enemy. Or something completely unrelated, like anger towards their father for his even colder treatment of late.

And yet…

When he clutched her fingers, causing the owner of the hand to glance up at him shyly before she looked away again, Sasuke's gaze hardened, just a little, and his posture stiffened almost imperceptibly.

A cold wind seemed to engulf Itachi. This premonition, combined with the scene before him, made one thing shockingly clear. This was no unrelated matter. The topic that Sasuke had wanted to talk about was her, that girl who was slowly approaching him, eyes downcast.

He was shaken from his reverie as the bride reached him. Sasuke handed her over to Shisui, who was playing the part of guardian. His best friend took the delicate hand with a grin and a gentle squeeze, which caused the girl to relax her posture ever so slightly.

Sasuke moved behind Itachi, occupying the empty seat almost directly at his back. A twin-seater, it would house both Shisui and Sasuke once they took their positions. On his left sat his father and the father of the bride, whereas on his right sat a very old, very renowned monk who had been summoned to Konoha especially for this occasion.

The fiancé looked at his bride once more, as Shisui delicately sat her on the cushion-mat surrounded by white lilies, roses, and lotuses. Shirayuri, Bara and Renge – an essential part in any engagement, and also in a wedding, although it would be accompanied by more provocative flowers then.

She sat in front of him, and, ignoring all laws of decorum, he stared at her. She was small and delicate, with pale skin further whitened by powder; gentle features, dark hair – he could not figure out whether it was indigo or charcoal - and the infamous Hyuuga eyes. Except that while most of them were trained to hide any form of expression, hers were swimming with emotion.

Despair, fear, reluctance, nervousness. It was all there for anyone to see.

She didn't want this any more than he did.

This realisation struck him with the force of a boulder. He had never considered, never even imagined that she might be just as hesitant to go through with this. To him, she was simply another faceless entity, a bothersome burden that he would have to take care of out of respect for his mother's memory. He hadn't even considered that she was human, that she might be having misgivings about marrying him, or the sacrifices she was making – giving up her position as head, being overlooked in favour of her younger sister, and then being abruptly married off. Getting pushed out of her clan was undoubtedly a very traumatic experience. He could read her like a book – she was so open with her emotions, so naïve. Hinata was scared – of this day, of its implications on her life, and of him, of the effect he would create in her small, formerly peaceful but now tumultuous world.

The priest sitting beside him was saying something, making gestures, waving around some incense sticks, but he could not concentrate. For the first time in his life, Itachi Uchiha was utterly engrossed. The objects of this fixation were the two painfully unguarded, stunning eyes of his fiancée.

And as the ceremony continued, he disregarded all that was around him and continued to stare at those enchanting eyes, all the time trying to pass a silent, unspoken message to them, to alleviate the sorrow that they held.

"I promise you that I will protect you."

Sasuke sat in the front row of the elegant seats that the Hyuuga had provided. He had to admit, they certainly weren't skimpy when it came to things like this – the ceremony was absolutely top class, and as much as he hated to admit it, he had serious reservations as to whether the Uchiha would have been able to pull off a feat of this grandeur.

The silken finery carefully and subtly placed all around him, however, was not enough to distract him from two thoughts that were currently plaguing his mind.

One was, of course, his sister-in-law-to-be. His surprise at hearing that the new addition to his family was to be his wallflower of a medic stood paramount. Of course, the fact that she was Hyuuga was not lost upon him. Shisui wasn't able to explain that particular facet either. He had thought that he would ask his brother when he went home, but to his annoyance, he found that the only time Itachi even appeared before him was during meals, when their father would, of course be present. He knew well enough by now not to question anything in front of Fugaku, for he would get nothing except for a sharp rebuke and possibly a stinging slap.

Even yesterday, when he had thought he would finally be able to corner his brother, he had been frustrated to discover that Shisui's annoying old geezer of a grandfather was following them about everywhere. He even wanted to bathe with them, for god's sake! Did they have another closet Jiraiya that was far too interested in males amongst them?

So there was absolutely no opportunity to ask his brother the question that was gnawing his insides.

The other thought flooding his brain was how unbearable itchy this goddamn nagajuban was.

They had been waiting forever for the blasted bride to appear, and she just wasn't, so why couldn't he take the bloody thing off already?

A soft flurry in the amount of whispers, followed by a sudden hush alerted him, and he promptly straightened himself to look to the front.

Sasuke was momentarily struck speechless.

This… he didn't know what to call her, couldn't find an appropriate term… could not be his former medic. His medic was quiet and unassuming, dressed modestly in the correct hospital staff uniform, with the regulated length of skirt, shirt, everything! This... ethereal being, simply could not be his shy, stuttering medic.

She was beautiful, every part of her bedecked in white, from the flowers in her dark, dark hair, to the powder on her face, except for her lips which were painted the most sinful colour of red imaginable. Her kimono floated ethereally – how could she look so graceful in a kimono while he couldn't even walk properly in the goddamn thing? And the eyes, eyelids brushed white, eyebrows and eyelashes dark, hiding those pale pure oceans. Her feet, small and elegant, gracefully danced their way across the marble white of the floor – she was barefoot, obeying tradition. Those gentle hands were hidden beneath the long sleeves of her kimono.

He couldn't stop staring.

When the time came, Sasuke lurched unevenly to his feet and made his way over to where he was supposed to meet her. She arrived before he did, just by a fraction of a second, but he noticed, because he had suddenly become hyperaware of everything concerning her.

He squeezed her hand ever so slightly, involuntarily, and she looked up, those gorgeous eyes of hers resting on his face with a shyness that was so characteristic of her, even in this new, graceful, elegant form.

And as he stared at those bottomless pools, filled with such an amazing range of emotion, he came to a realisation that stunned him.

He was taken with his future sister-in-law, Hyuuga Hinata.