Hanabi huffs as she stomps through the gates, throwing her glare at anyone who looks at her questioningly.
That damn Konohamaru.
That damn Kiba.
He's just so annoying. So stupid, so rude. So ridiculous. So cute.
NO.
Hanabi has to remind herself she's mad at him when his face flashes across her mind. He's just so damn charming. If he wasn't, he'd have been dead long ago.
She looks over her shoulder to see Tenten sitting on the edge of the railing of the watchtower, swinging her legs. Hanabi's stomach flips as her gaze lingers for a little too long.
Tenten's hair is just so perfect, Hanabi thinks. She wonders if it's transformation jutsu that keeps her buns so perfectly neat and high, even after hours of sparring or combat. And her uniform is just so crisp, her weapons always shiny and dangerous-looking.
Hanabi doesn't think it's fair for one person to be so good looking. It makes her want to blind herself so she doesn't have to be graced with such beauty.
The worst part is that Tenten is nice. So nice, in fact, it is impossible for Hanabi to dislike her, even though she really, really wants to.
They may have been trying to keep it a secret, but they were so obvious. Kiba and Tenten are seeing each other, and it makes Hanabi want to scream. Some days, she's tempted to write a letter to her cousin, pretending she's in danger, to get him to return faster. That way, Tenten will go back to being enamored with his stupid face instead of the stupid face Hanabi's enamored with.
Ever since she caught them making out outside of an izakaya at the devil's hour, whenever she sees Kiba, she can only see Tenten's lips on his, and she wants to cry like some pathetic baby. It's just not fair. Everyone tells her she's beautiful, but she just can't believe it. Not when Kiba Inuzuka of all people hasn't told her so himself. She wonders why his eyes always glaze over when she's around.
She's tried everything. Changing her shampoo from something flowery to something scentless. Showing more skin to the point even Natsu was scolding her. Bringing him his favorite barbeque. But no, Tenten brings him ramen and he's over the moon.
Idiot.
Hanabi waves at her older sister as she passes the field of the Academy. She flashes as bright a smile as possible despite her headache at the children who look at her. Hinata told her some weeks ago that she scares children with her classic Hyuga stone-cold expression. Hanabi said she'd try harder not to look like such a bitch. Hinata immediately kicked her out of her room.
"Hey!"
She groans when she hears Konohamaru's voice. She rolls her eyes and spins on her heel to face him. "What?"
"Are we going to the Hokage's tower, or…?" he asks while rubbing at his abdomen.
Hanabi clicks her tongue. "You are. I have to drop off this scroll to Itachi."
"Gonna leave me to do the report?" Konohamaru's face falls and she wants to laugh.
"Yep. Better get to it, Honorable Grandson."
"Hey—I'm sorry, okay?" Konohamaru steps forward, tilting his head down at her.
Hanabi wants to groan, but doesn't. He's too kind for her to belittle, at least right now. "It's fine, Konohamaru."
"Really, I am," he tries again, stepping closer. She steps back and shakes her head. Sometimes, she wishes Konohamaru would be better receptive of her feelings. "It just kind of came out."
"Can you go now?" Hanabi presses, shifting her eyes.
"Are we good?"
"As good as we can be."
"And that means…?"
"It means what it means. Goodbye."
Hanabi ignores the crestfallen look on his face and turns around.
Sometimes, she wonders why she even still does this stupid job. When she signed up to be part of the Hokage's guard, it was to skirt clan duties. But then Konohamaru followed her like the puppy he was, and now she's with him nearly every day.
Their relationship was complicated. A lot of people liked to pair them up based on their statuses, pushed them together like they did Naruto and Hinata. Heiresses of the Hyuga with the son and grandson of Hokage's just seemed to be everyone's jam for some reason. Konohamaru is too much like Naruto, and she sees how Naruto turned out. No thank you.
No, Hanabi had a crush on Konohamaru when they were kids, but it remained there as far as she was concerned.
"I'm here to see Itachi." Hanabi leans on her right foot in front of two Uchiha guards standing outside of where she knew Itachi would be.
"He's busy at the moment," one of them responds, tartly. She rolls her eyes and activates her byakugan. "Hey! You can't use that here!"
"It's just him and Shisui in there." She quickly deactivates it, perking an eyebrow up at the one who told her no. She sucks in a deep breath. "SHISUI!"
"Is that my bratty Hyuga I hear?!"
Hanabi lets a smirk tug her lips up as the Uchiha men visibly grimace as the door flies open, Shisui's grin greeting her. She groans when he charges at her, throwing her over his shoulder and swiftly carrying her inside, slamming the door closed behind him. "Put me down! I'm too big for you to do that now!"
"Nahhh—" Shisui chuckles as he tosses her down and she huffs, smoothing out her skirt.
"Or rather, you're too old," Hanabi snarks and Shisui bellows out a laugh. "That why you didn't come to my party last night?"
"I am getting up there, little Hyuga." He roughly pats her head and she swats at his hand. "Can't keep up with you babies. I heard it was fun, though."
"Yeah, until Udon pulled down Moegi's shirt," Hanabi growls.
"Yikes." Shisui grimaces. "Glad I wasn't there, then. I'll stick to my beer and books."
"Hanabi," Itachi cuts in, looking tired of this conversation. "I'm happy to see you, but what is it you've come for?"
"This." Hanabi fishes into her satchel, pulling out a scroll. Itachi tilts his head curiously as she hands it over. She shrugs. "It's from father. Dunno what it is."
"Thank you." He nods, accepting it.
"Probably making more demands," Shisui comments loftily, settling next to Hanabi. "Maybe he's trying to get Hanabi married off to you, huh, Lord Itachi?"
"Gross." Hanabi sticks out her tongue, then immediately frowns when Itachi perks an eyebrow at her. "Sorry. I just mean, well. You're old."
"Good ol' Hanabi." Shisui roughs up her hair. "When are you going to come play shogi with me? Itachi's too easy to beat, I need a challenge."
Hanabi snickers as Itachi sighs, unraveling the scroll. She looks up at Shisui and shrugs. "Could always ask Shikamaru? I've been busy."
"You're busy? Have you seen that guy?" Shisui coughs into his fist and shakes his head. "We're on our 100th dojo. I'm kind of wondering where all the money for this is coming from. Shikamaru seems like the kind of guy who has connections for dirty money."
"Loaned out from the Hyuga." Hanabi sets her hands on her hips and puffs out her chest. "With a heavy interest rate."
"Yikes again." Shisui tuts. "Using those eyes to find hidden treasure?" He blinks down at her and she watches his eyes flash red. She squints at him and puts her hand over his eyes. He laughs, forcing her hand off. "Man, why are you soooo cool, Hanabi?"
"Why are you suuuuch a jerk, Shisui?" Hanabi retorts, glaring now.
"ITACHI!"
Hanabi whirls around, blinking at the door and the voice screaming from the other side. She looks back at Itachi. "You're popular today."
"Just—it's fine, send them in." Itachi sighs out, beckoning a hand. Shisui dutifully rips open the door once more, and a blond head of hair comes skipping in.
Ah, yes, another woman who makes Hanabi want to be blind. Ino Yamanaka. Effortlessly (but with much effort) beautiful. The way her hair cascades up and out, her gem-like eyes, her smooth skin.
Hanabi thinks it's just wrong that her sister's entire class of ladies are drop dead gorgeous. How is that fair?
And of course, the beautiful bouquet she's holding only makes her prettier. Shisui whistles. "That's a pretty nice arrangement. One of my admirers must have been feeling colorful today, huh?"
"Sorry, not for you." Ino shakes her head, making her way straight to Itachi. Hanabi giggles as Itachi's expression turns confused. "For the one and only leader of the Uchiha."
"What?" Itachi asks, dumbly. "For me?"
"Are you the leader of the Uchiha?" Ino asks sarcastically, rolling her eyes as she shoves them into his chest.
"I-uhm-I'm flattered, Ms. Yamanaka—"
"Oh my GODS," Ino screeches, a look of disgust coming over her face. Hanabi and Shisui immediately buckle to their knees in laughter. "These are not from me, who in the world do you think you are?!"
Hanabi doesn't think she's ever seen Itachi turn such a deep red that it matched the sharingan, but it is thoroughly amusing.
"O-of course—" Itachi clears his throat, still looking confused and embarrassed. Ino tosses her hair over her shoulder effortlessly and flashes one of those dazzling smiles.
"You have a secret admirer, Lord Itachi." She giggles, looking back at Hanabi to wink at her. Hanabi pales.
"The way you just looked at me makes it seem like they were from me," Hanabi snaps, squinting her glare at Ino now. Ino cackles.
"Not for me to reveal!"
"Not like it isn't obvious, anyway," Hanabi scoffs, folding her arms. Everyone turns to look at her simultaneously and she raises her eyebrows at them.
Is everyone around her stupid? "Darling Hyuga, please indulge us." Shisui tilts his head at her, blinking his pretty black eyes at her.
Hanabi shakes her head. "Inuzuka. The older one."
"HANA?!" Shisui gasps and Hanabi thought it would be impossible for Itachi to turn even redder than he already was, but here they are.
"My my," Ino tuts, folding her arms and tapping her foot, "called her out just like that, huh, baby Hanabi?"
"Can everyone please stop calling me a baby!" Hanabi groans, throwing her head back.
"This is truly a remarkable conversation, Shisui, Ino—" Itachi cuts in again, setting the bouquet to the side. He casts his gaze at Hanabi before continuing, "but if you'll excuse me, baby Hanabi, I must pen out a reply to your father."
Now it's Ino and Shisui falling over each other in laughter as Hanabi's eyes turn veiny.
Shisui wipes a phantom tear from his cheek, then stumbles over to Hanabi. "Sure thing, boss. Allow me to take out the trash."
Hanabi's eyes go wide as Shisui's sinister grin turns to her. She squeals as she bolts away.
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