Author's Note: First part of this chap is more an interlude character study that I wanted to be placed here before we move forward. Heavy stuff. But the rest is pretty light, I think. So hope you enjoy the read!!
The Hyuga clan, in its entirety, is one of misdirection. Not a soul outside the four walls of their compound knows their secrets, their traditions–not beyond the ones they purposely let people know.
They're a careful bunch, a clan built on strongholds of nobility and grace and customs that run deeper than the roots of Konoha's forests.
Seen by outsiders, they come off as a well-put together group of strong-knit family. A family that has its own branches of hierarchy that's accepted by all its members, no matter how unjust or unfair it may look to a civilian or a Nara or an Akimichi.
The Hyugas never fight amongst themselves.
At least not in public.
What unfolds behind the privacy of wooden doors and stone walls is no one's business but the Hyuga's alone. So no prying eyes and searching ears find out about the internal battles fought between the Head and his council, nor do they get any inclination about the tensions coiling through the branches serving the main tree.
With a reputation that comes with being a Hyuga, each member of the clan–child or adult or even a toddler–has certain responsibilities, a fine set of values to uphold. It's expected of any white-eyed person to live in a way that earns them the name of their esteemed clan.
Hyugas are gently brutal. They're cunningly honest. They're politely offensive.
They extend a hand in peace with a dagger up their sleeves. They close their eyes with their dojutsu activated and pretend they're flailing in the dark.
They misdirect. But they do it with dignity and skillful precision.
Burdens come with being born into any family, be it a commoner's or a clan's. But Hyugas, sometimes, go an extra mile in saddling small shoulders with weights beyond their capacity to hold. These shoulders, fragile and still-growing, either crumble under the load or become stronger, broader, thicker, to survive and stand straighter and weather their burden.
Right now, these responsibilities lie on two young children, cousins by blood yet mistress-servant by the way of their clan.
While one is a girl, a shy, naïve one, the other is a boy already hardened by things seen and heard, things he's learned far too soon for his age.
Hinata, she's called. By her father, it comes with a tone of irritation, of disappointment and sometimes, of anger. Her cousin, the one she looks upto, the one she admires from behind curtains of their clan dojo, goes by the name of Neji.
For anyone who cares to observe, both of them are poles apart. Hinata's all things gentle, a frailty to her mannerisms and a non-confrontational attitude to go along with it. Neji, on the other hand, is a child of immense talent, a prodigy of the Hyuga chakra arts with a precocious, if a little arrogant, head on his shoulders. Neither of them are very loud, but while one submerges under her own quietness, the other wears the silence like a shield and armour, wields it with authority and assurance.
Hinata's always felt her emotions too well, but she's felt the feelings of her family even better. From the second the hand of her mother left her head, she's known about the tightness that filled her father's face, how his laughter lines dulled (there weren't many to begin with) and how his face resembled more a rock than a human.
She understands how her sister looks upto her but that blind adoration and admiration is slowly turning sour the more her father openly declares Hinata as an unfit heir, the more he mocks her in open view of Hanabi.
Hinata sees things and comprehends them better than most of her peers because rarely she has her own judgemental views to taint her perception. She's been compared to a mouse before, silent and easy to scurry but she's more of an owl with a vision that pierces those it falls upon.
Her grasp of people's emotions lead her to hide her mother's picture frames from her father, encourage her to stay out of her cousin's path, cause her to subtly shield Hanabi when Hiashi is in a room with both of them together.
Hinata's quick to love and slow to hate. This may be her greatest weakness or her most profound strength but all she knows is that she can't change herself, can't give up how she feels for those around her.
Hinata–she likes living, she likes breathing and watching and hearing and singing. She likes being alive but her experiences are marred with memories of a tainted childhood. A childhood that ended with the end of her mother.
Overnight, she'd been thrust into the world, naked without the protection of her loving parent. It hadn't been easy, to watch her stern but affectionate father get transformed into a man who wallowed in his miseries so often he forgot he had people he could still cherish and love.
If Hinata had the courage, she'd walk upto her father and strike him hard enough to snap him out of his head. To make him realise that he'd lose much more than what he already had if he didn't leave his newly cruel ways behind him.
But Hinata, for all her maturity and intuitive understanding, lacks courage. She doesn't remember how it happened, how she seemed to have grown a spine that stretched and bent to the wills of others but it's done and she lacks now the strength to solidify her resolve.
At least, that's what she thinks.
So, she simply watches people. And shares a few conversations with her friend (the one and only she has), Shino, and she exchanges a few sentences with her sister and caretaker. The interactions she has with Hiashi can't be called conversations, not really, not when only one of them talks and the other is forced to listen.
The person she watches the most is Neji. Their dissimilarities fascinate Hinata, especially because they've gone through so many similar situations.
Her cousin, she knows, is a moulded out of tougher stuff than her. He's a sword, sharp and cutting, for those who oppose him. But a sword, at the end of the day, is made to follow the whims of its wielder, its master, no matter how refined, how strong a weapon it is individually.
Neji is used to harbouring a constant flickering flame of rebellion borne out of spite for the main house of his clan. In his mind, the main house is all that's wrong in his little world, for the death of his father remains his greatest tragedy caused directly by the power holders of their clan.
Every time he uses the gift of his bloodline, he's mindful of what its price is–a life started with servitude and one that will end through it as well. He's aware of things in a visceral way. He'll look at the strictness the branches are subjected to and react with suppressed rage, a righteous anger that's boiling ever since his father was declared dead without a body to bury.
His anger though, hinders him as much as it enables his determination. It casts a net, a foil that blurs his vision of reasonable thought. Emotions don't always go hand in hand with rationality after all, and Neji lives his life on pure emotions.
It's his emotions of fear that tell him to bow his head and appear docile when his fate (the word that haunts him since he was conceived) lies in the hands of a man who wasn't afraid to sacrifice his own brother when times were perilous.
It's his anger that keeps him up at nights and awake at mornings to sharpen his juuken strikes and polish his form–because soon one day, he'll flaunt his prowess in the face of the main house whose skills have always been hailed superior to those like Neji.
It's his grief, his palpable feeling of loneliness that strings him along to their clan's graveyard on the twenty first of every month. There, under the sunlight, with fading shadows that run along edges of stone-cut graves, he sits and talks to the one person who'd always rested a hand on his shoulders and guided him forwards. The one man who'd been a better father than Neji could ever hope for. The man whose smiles connected with those in the room, free of pretentiousness and forced courtesy of a regular Hyuga.
Neji, when asked, tells people that his life isn't his to live, that it's already carved out, piece by piece, by those that drew the seal on his forehead. He says so because on some levels, he believes it. For if his father, who'd been his unwavering tower of strength, couldn't withstand the grip of the main house, who was he to resist such a compelling destiny?
But under the layers of a stoic submission lies the fire capable of lighting his own path, his own journey. A journey that deviates significantly than what's mapped out for him by any of his superiors. And he acknowledges this fire every time he sneers at Hinata or purposely ignores his lunch duties in favour of pummeling a log. He embraces it every time Gai-sensei calls him the future of taijutsu (along with Lee, but Neji doesn't much care for that ridiculous teammate of his).
So Hinata sees this Neji, with both his sides, and she sees some of his rare, vulnerable moments too. She'd been there that day, when Neji was informed of his deceased father–how he'd wept and banged on the doors of their home, how he'd grabbed Hiashi's tunic and almost ripped it apart. How he'd withdrawn into a shell later on, so silent in his grief, yet his eyes were so painfully loud.
Two cousins.
That's all they are fundamentally, when blood purity and family trees cease to matter.
Two cousins, one destined to rule, the other destined to serve. One failing at dominance, the other naturally exuding it. One trying her best to turn her heart cold to make her fists stronger, the other who cares solely for his growth, making his heart grow stonier.
One who bears clear skin on her forehead. The other who's head is tattooed with seals he never asked for.
One who notices things. The other, too self-absorbed to look beyond himself.
It's just a little unfortunate, Hinata thinks, noticing their differences, that she can't be a companion to her cousin, the one person she believes could truly understand her and whom she could understand in return.
But companions, they say, are made of unlikely pairs, of people who yearn support but fail to acquire it.
"He's gone mad," Sakura says for the fifth time that day, "utterly and completely mad."
"Yes, yes, I think you've already established that," Naruto says dryly, swinging open his apartment door and side-stepping to let Sakura in. He throws his living room a quick look before snatching a few pieces of clothing lying on his sofa and dumping them into his laundry basket. "You can go on into my room. I'll get us something to eat."
"Get those onigiri leftovers!" Sakura yells, voice muffled by the walls between them.
Naruto rolls his eyes and does as he's bid to. He makes some tea and pours it into big cups that he balances in one hand with the plate of their snacks in the other. Walking into his bedroom, he places his load in front of the pinkhead who appears to be engrossed in pulling off the sheets from his futon. She gives them a cautionary sniff.
"When did you last wash these?"
"Er, last week, I think," Naruto says, shoving a biscuit in his mouth, "Or month. I dunno. Not too long ago, though."
"A month is not too long ago for you?" Sakura questions, baffled, but her attention's already occupied by the riceball now in her hand. She bites into it, savouring the taste and by the time Naruto's given his response she's above all talks about hygiene.
"So, about Sasuke... " Naruto begins once they're both sipping their tea, "I'm giving it a shot."
"No," Sakura shakes her head forcefully, "No, no, no! That kind of seal would be too powerful and would mess with genetics of people. You can't–you shouldn't do that!"
"I know," Naruto says, frowning, "But I do owe him enough to at least try. I don't think I'll be successful anyway."
"That isn't the point. The point is that you shouldn't mess with things like bloodlines. If anyone heard of this Naruto, they'll come for your head. Imagine what a powerful weapon such a seal would make. Do you not understand that?"
"I do, Sakura," Naruto crosses his legs then uncrosses them. Huffing, he looks away, "But I am not planning on making a general seal to curb bloodlines. If Sasuke would tell us his goal, and if it is one I could get behind, I could make a seal to block a specific person's specific bloodline."
Sakura fidgets with the sheets in her hand for a moment, brows creased as she goes over the risks. Finally, she clicks her tongue in annoyance, "Okay. Whatever. We'll interrogate Sasuke tomorrow and if his reasons are righteous, which I totally doubt, you can help him. Or else you tell him no and I'll kick him in the face if he insists. Okay?"
Naruto snatches the sheets from Sakura, springing up, "You're becoming an excellent threat-maker. Good job."
Sakura flips her hair, puffing her chest, "Why, thank you. I do try my best."
"Yes, yes, enough drama for today. Pick up those dishes and put them in the sink!"
"Have I ever told you how alike Ino you sound these days?"
Naruto gasps exaggeratedly, "How dare you! I shall not stand for such insulting comparisons!"
"Oh?" Sakura laughs, "Now who's being dramatic?"
It's then that loud knocks come from the main door.
"I'll go," Naruto announces before Sakura can get up. "You get done with the washing."
"Alright. But just this once!"
Naruto looks through the peephole, a vaguely familiar shape surprising him. Unlocking the door, he pulls it open and takes a step back.
"Hi, sensei," he waves awkwardly. "What brings you here?"
Kakashi shifts on his feet, subtly glancing inside Naruto's house with a hooded eye. He gives his student his signature eye-smile before responding, "Ah just some little news I had to deliver to you. That's all."
"Oh, okay," Naruto says stiffly, unsure of what's going on. When Kakashi makes no move to either come inside of deliver said news, Naruto gives him an unimpressed stare, "Well, what is it then?"
"Right," Kakashi points an index finger at him. "So. You. Yes. You have to um, you have been invited to have tea with the Hokage tomorrow afternoon."
Naruto snorts, "Tea? With the Hokage? What sort of absurd kitty party plan is that? Is this your idea of a retaliation prank sensei?"
"What?" Kakashi's one eye grows wide in genuine offence. "No! I'm being serious here. He just wants to have a chat with you. Wants to discuss... certain things of importance okay, Naruto? Just be there at one p.m. tomorrow and everything will be clear."
"If you say so," Naruto says doubtfully, "but you're being very suspicious right now. Are you... are you nervous, sensei?"
"Oh shut up," Kakashi waves a hand. "You may be a devious prankster but that's not enough to intimidate me. Now go on, get back to whatever silly activity you were engaged in."
"Alright," Naruto grips the doorknob, "and you go back to being the postman that you apparently are."
"I am not–"
Naruto shuts the door, laughing, and walks back into the living room. Sakura catches his eyes and raises a brow in question.
"The Hokage wants to be buddies with me."
Sakura holds eye-contact for a few seconds before shrugging, "Sure. Obviously, he does. I'm not at all surprised."
Sasuke slides the door open, making sure that he makes no sound as he walks inside on his toes. Slowly, he climbs up the stairs, avoiding the creaking bits he knows like the back of his hands.
Luck doesn't seen to favour him tonight though, because as soon as he enters the corridor, Obito's smiling face greets him with more enthusiasm than Sasuke's ever felt in his lifetime put together.
"Welcome home, dear cousin!" he greets with a beam and ushers Sasuke inside his spartan room, undeterred by his half-hearted resistance.
"Thanks," Sasuke mutters, allowing himself to be pulled and pushed till he's seated on Obito's bed. His newly alive cousin takes a seat beside him and he looks better now, with fresh, clean clothes and a face that lacks heavy eye-bags.
"So how was your day? What did you do? You know when Kakashi told me that he's teaching at the academy, I couldn't stop laughing. I mean, Kakashi? And a teacher? Pfftt, that's absurd! So is he a shitty instructor? Do you have–"
"Hey, Obito," Sasuke cuts in and Obito's face displays sheepishness almost immediately. "One question at a time, please?"
"Right, right. Sorry 'bout that. I just like knowing about you, lil' cousin, that's all. So, what did you today?"
"We studied," Sasuke says flatly, "and sparred. And ate lunch. And drank water. That's all."
"Aww that's not all that fun. What did you do apart from boring school things? Did you talk to a girl or something. Y'know when I was a kid–"
"You still are one."
"I'd get all shy around the girls. Imagine. Obito Uchiha, the smooth talker, the master conversationalist," at this Obito was subjected to most judgemental look from Sasuke he'd ever received, "getting all clamped up in front of someone. Unbelievable, isn't it?"
"A little, yes. I think I'd like you better if you were silent."
"That's rude, Sas, so very rude."
"You butchering my name like that is also equally rude."
"I am shortening your name out of affection, dear Sas. There's nothing rude about it."
"It is, to me," Sasuke drops his fierce glare. "Anyway. I have a question for you."
"Oh finally! Has the time come for me to impart my highly sought-after romantic wisdom to you?"
"That day's never going to come," Sasuke crosses his arms, face turning serious. "Now, do you promise me to tell me the truth for whatever it is that I ask you
"As long as it's nothing I'm forbidden to speak of, yes, I promise."
Studying Obito's face and finding only sincerity there, Sasuke closes his eyes and gulps.
"You have the Mangekyo Sharingan, don't you?"
For a moment, there's only silence in the bare room. The light breeze of the night sails past them but neither attempt to break the quiet. Then, slowly, Sasuke opens his lids and looks straight into the deep, red, sharp-tomoed eyes of Obito.
"Yes. I do," Obito says, a brief yet heavy flash of a sorrow whizzing past his eyes. He lets out a held breath, "Why? What's the matter?"
Sasuke's eyes are shiny, and he looks at Obito with fresh scrutiny, the guard that was just starting to lower is back full-force, mingled with disappointment so potent Obito feels his heart get gripped in tight hands.
"Who?"
"Who?" Obito repeats, some confusion seeping through his apprehension, "Who what?"
"Who was it? The name?"
"I... I don't follow, Sasuke."
"Don't bother with acting. You killed your friend. You did it–you have it, don't you? So you killed your best friend!"
Obito can see Sasuke's turmoil through his eyes, the frantic need to be reassured, the anger and frustration. He doesn't understand what's going on his cousin's mind but he knows he needs to clear this, whatever misunderstanding that's taken root here.
So he places his hand on Sasuke's shoulder, firm and grounding, and doesn't move it even when Sasuke struggles to get himself free.
"I didn't kill anyone, Sasuke. Who told you this? Why do you think this of me?"
"The Mangekyo," Sasuke says in a whisper as if that explains it all. "You got it by killing your best-friend. That's how we get it, don't we?"
Suddenly, it dawns on him. It dawns on Obito that somehow, his little cousin has been fed false information about the Mangekyo Sharingan, that he's been told that the way to acquire it is to kill one's best friend. And that's... that's wrong. That's not how Obito got it and that's not how all the ones before Obito got it either. Some may have, perhaps, but that's not the only way. He knows this. He can't that image out of his head for him to forget that.
Right now though, he needs to break Sasuke out of this misinformation, needs to show him that he didn't do anything so unforgivable as to murder his closest friend in coldblood to get a piece of power.
"Sasuke, here, listen to me," Obito holds Sasuke's face in his palms, forcing their eyes to meet. "Whoever told you this bullshit didn't know what they were talking about. I didn't get my Mangekyo by killing anyone. It's true that my best friend was killed but not by me. No. Not by me. But watching her die– that, that devastated me. That's what triggered my Mangekyo. I swear I didn't kill her. I didn't, Sasuke. I promised to say the truth and the truth is that I didn't kill my best friend. So, do you believe me?"
Sasuke places a hand on Obito's arm, fingers shaking just the slightest bit from the force of his own emotions. He wants to believe Obito, wants to accept that what his brother had told him was a false tale, a lie to mess with his head. But Obito's little more than a stranger to him and he knows nothing of his past. It's difficult to trust people. It's difficult to place his faith in them.
But there's something about Obito's gaze. It's earnest. He's earnest– from the first word he spoke to him. This Uchiha's person radiates honesty and Sasuke's glimpsed so much of it already.
So even though he's doubtful and far from convinced, he nods his head shakily, hoping against all hopes that this time, his trust is well-placed.
"Yes, I believe you."
And though it isn't a physical thing, Sasuke feels like something's just been lifted off of him, something tangible that's loosened his muscles and he sags into Obito's open arms.
He doesn't cry that night. Just stays there, still and breathing hard. Obito doesn't mind. And Sasuke pretends, for two small moments, that they're Itachi's arms that hold him before he falls asleep.
Author's Note:
Just to be clear, Sasuke and Obito are NOT close. This is just one moment of inevitable vulnerability that Sasuke had to bear around Obito because this is very important question he needed an answer to. Their relationship will cherish even further but it just seems very close because of Obito's nature. It's pretty one-sided rn, though Sasuke will soon reciprocate.
I know the Hyuga thing is odd since they didn't even appear in the chapter happenings later on but they'll soon have more to do with the plot. They just need more time.
That's all I've got to ramble about I think. So thanks a ton for reading! All feedback's welcome!
Have an awesome day ahead. :))
Peace.