She is weak and she knows it.
All her life she was told she was a weakling, not worth their family name, that she was like a taunting stain on a white shirt. You can try to wash it out, but no matter how hard you'll try, the stain will stay; an impurity that stands out in this sea of perfection and purity.
"Am I weak, father?" she asks after she trained with him, her voice a faint sound in the air.
"Yes, you are." he answers, his face as cold and unmoving as a stone.
And she forces a smile on her face every time he says that and promises to be better and train harder, just to disappoint him the next day.
"I'll be better!" she tells herself as she fights.
"I'll be stronger!" she tells herself as she falls down.
"I'll be worthy of my name!" she tells herself as she tries to get up.
"I won't be weak!" she whispers to herself as she gets punched by her opponent.
"I won't need help!" she shouts at herself as her teammates help her up.
"I failed again." She cries to herself when nobody is watching, when she was beaten again.
But she still tries.
Because no one expects her to, because it's her own decision, because she wants to prove to herself that she is strong.
Her face is soft, framed by her bangs, her eyes light and naïve, her body trained, yet so, so fragile, so easy to break.
And there is nothing she can do about that.
But she tries.
She has expectances to fulfill, although no one believes in her anymore. They've lost faith in her such a long time ago.
Too often she had proven herself to be a weakling, too many times had she failed.
"Why do you even bother with trying if we all already know that you are worthless?" her cousin taunts her as he walks by, a mocking smirk on his face, knowing that she will be affected by his mockery.
The girl bits her lip, her pearly eyes drifting to the side to escape his stare and twiddles her thumbs because she is nervous and scared.
Nii-san was always stronger than her, and her mind tells her to fear him, to avoid him at all costs.
Only at rare occurrences she has no choice, like these times she isn't looking where she is going.
And every time it's the same, he's questioning her, taunting her, taunting her!
She whispers "I won't disappoint you next time, I promise..." But she knows that it's all just a lie.
Her Nii-san chuckles and turns away, and she hears him say "You always say that. Stop lying to yourself, you fool."
Her bottom lip trembles but she refuses to cry in his presence, watches his retreating back, the ponytail dangling behind him.
When she doesn't see him anymore, she runs to her room, ignoring the stares she gets.
She rips open the door to her room, closing it careful behind her, though she is aware that a room won't hide her in this family.
She breaks down.
Her knees drop to the floor and her body is shaking as she crumbles down with fresh, hot tears flowing down her cheeks.
At the end of their journey the salty drops drip to the floor, making a faint noise.
Soon the air is filled with her sniffs and the dripping noise as she sobs harder and harder, despite being used to this treatment by her family.
Her hands find their way into her short blue hair, entangling themselves there and she digs her fingernails into her scalp.
The pain shoots through her head, but she doesn't care.
She's feeling sick in her stomach and she throws up, but she doesn't care.
She hears her own sister's sickening snickers outside her room, but she doesn't care.
She just doesn't care anymore.
Hours pass by and the tears dry on her cheeks, leaving wet traces on her porcelain skin, showing everybody what she was doing all this time.
Her body is sore from all the silent crying, and even though there are no more tears, she presses her face onto the cold floor, so hard that it hurts.
Eventually she falls asleep, leaving her with nightmares in which she is killed by white-eyed monsters.
The next morning follows and she knows that her father will be mad at her for skipping training.
So she avoids him and sneaks out of the giant complex of houses, doing a poor job at hiding herself.
Once she is on the busy streets, she feels even lonelier than last night.
It was absurd, to be surrounded by a crowed and to feel alone at the same time.
Those damn tears rise to her eyes again, threatening to fall and spill on the dusty ground, so she rises her hand, whipping them away.
Somebody bumps into her accidentally, so she quickly turns to the stranger and bows several times, whispering in her timid, soft and shy voice many, so many apologies.
The stranger tells her that it's alright, waves at her and resumes his way.
And suddenly she feels stupid.
What had she done wrong?
Why had she been the one apologizing?
She starts running, the sadness and anger well-hidden under her soft, calm features, and her feet hurt because she isn't wearing shoes.
The feeling while she runs is making her heart beat faster and she runs some more, but she is tripping, falling to the ground, her face hitting the earth.
A girl with pink locks offers her a hand, and she gladly accepts it, though her mind is screaming that she didn't deserve help.
"You're Hinata, right? Hinata...Hyuga? My name is Sakura Haruno." Sakura introduces herself.
Hinata just nods, feeling the heat rising to her face.
"Nice t-to meet you, S-S-Sakura..." the shy girl stutters.
"Well, I see you around, Hinata!" the other girl exclaims and waves her good bye.
Why was this girl, Sakura, nice to her? she wonders.
Why does she care?
Why?
What had she done to deserve this kindness?
The useless Hyuga heiress suppresses a sob, and walks on.
Voices are coming from every direction, and now she's the one bumping into people, always shouting back an apology, and her lungs burn, but she doesn't care.
Deep inside, she cries, she is desperate.
That's when her eyes spot a shock of golden-blond hair.
She looks closely and sees that it belongs to a boy at about her age.
Her eyes are glued to him, and she was not able to tear her eyes away from him.
Maybe it is his hair that sticks in every direction, maybe it is the weird whisker-like marks or even his orange-blue jumpsuit.
But she was sure that it was his smile that held her gaze captivated.
It was so pure, so wide and innocent, so careless, everything her smiles weren't.
He opens his eyes and she notices that they are a wonderful shade of blue, so intense that her face heats up immediately.
His face was covered in cuts and there was blood trickling down the side of his mouth. Then he speaks and he says "Well, the next time I'll beat you, Sasuke! Believe it!"
His grin grows wider and she realizes that he speaks to the boy next to him, a boy with a dark aura surrounding him. She instantly winces because he reminds her of Nii-san and Otoo-sama.
"You say that every time, dobe, and then you get beaten by me again."
Her eyes widen.
"I know! But this time I'm sure! And even if I don't, I'll try again! You know, I have this feeling in my gut..." the blonde retorts, not a hint of insecurity or disbelief.
"Maybe you're just hungry, you idiot?" his friend smirks and hits him on the head.
"Hey! ...But you're right! Let's go and eat ramen! ..."
They disappear from her sight as fast as they came but there were two things that should remain in her mind, in her heart.
The pure smile and the things he said.
He loses just like she did, again and again.
But he doesn't give up; no matter how many times he lost (judging by the black-haired's comment)
He doesn't give up.
Unlike her, who would always remain in the shadows.
She doesn't know the boy's name but she secretly wants to see him again, to see his smile.
She is weak and she knows it.
All her life she was told she was a weakling, not worth their family name, that she was like a taunting stain on a white shirt. You can try to wash it out, but no matter how hard you'll try, the stain will stay; an impurity that stands out in this sea of perfection and purity.
Maybe it is true that you can't wash out a stain.
But Hinata wasn't a stain.
So she will try again, again and again.
The boy without a name had given her hope, and every time she would cry, she would think of him.
As Hinata gets home, she is slapped in the face, and labeled as worthless once again.
But she doesn't cry today.
She doesn't care about that.