Six

Hinata hadn't slept all night, and it showed in her complexion. Her eyes were weary and dark circles crossed her face. Her hair looked like a bird's nest. The young girl ran a hand over her face, letting out a sigh. "Everything ends and everything begins today", she thought as tears rolled down her cheeks. She wiped them away with an angry hand. "That's the last time you cry," she insisted to herself.

She didn't want to cry any more, she didn't want her tears to flow for choices that weren't hers. She had to follow her destiny. She had to stop crying. She had to be a strong woman, she had to become clan chief. Even if it wasn't her own. A knock on her door roused the young woman from her torpor. Activating her Byakugan, she saw that it was a bevy of servants carrying brushes, clothes and creams. All the paraphernalia needed to prepare the bride-to-be.

"Come in," Hinata announced in a voice she wanted to be loud.

In a second, the paper door slid open and the maids entered Hinata's room. Without saying a word, they grabbed the girl and began to prepare her for the ceremony. They began by brushing her hair energetically until it had returned to its usual indigo waterfall appearance. Then they undressed the girl and coated her with all kinds of creams. Creams to make the skin soft and shiny, but some were also supposed to improve fertility and provoke an aphrodisiac effect in whoever touched the skin. Hinata couldn't help but let out a shudder at the thought of the cream's effect. "Why do they have to decide this too?" she thought shamefully.

It was her body. They were already deciding her marriage, the rest of her life, and here they were even making arrangements for her body, her sex life. She was sick of it. Nothing belonged to her anymore. Not her body, not her free will and maybe not even her thoughts.

New maids arrived next, bringing the Shiromuku as if it were the clan's most precious relic. And in a way it was, since it was her mother's wedding outfit. Hinata was livid. She had absolutely no desire to wear her mother's kimono. She didn't want to sully this relic of her mother's with a wedding that terrified her. At least her mother loved her father when they married. This outfit was the symbol of a loving union, it couldn't become the symbol of a vulgar contract between clans.

Hinata sighed but allowed herself to be dressed. She had no say in the matter anyway. She had to obey; she had done so all her life, and would surely do so for the rest of her existence. The young girl then abandoned herself to the expert hands of her servants.

Her lips were painted bright red and her skin shaded in white. Her ornate bun pulled her hair up. Her immaculate white long-sleeved kimono made her look tiny. She seemed to disappear beneath her outfit. Yet she kept her head high and her face proud. But Sasuke knew-and he was sure everyone could see-that beneath the surface lay a resigned young woman.

Her gaze was distant, as if elsewhere, as they completed the San San Ku Do phase. Like her future husband, she drank the three different cups of sake given to her by a miko. The three different bowls were supposed to symbolize the past, present and future. By drinking sake in this way, the bride and groom took an oath of eternal sharing of joys and sorrows. Sasuke and Hinata knew perfectly well that this marriage was not about sharing, far from it. It was a selfish alliance, in which each had a personal interest. Yes, even Hinata, who, as she walked down the aisle, realized that by agreeing to this marriage she was also escaping another equally disastrous fate. Belonging to another clan, she could no longer be threatened by the caged bird seal. She was free-free to be someone else's prisoner. Just free, she was imprisoned again.

When it came time to exchange rings, it was Sasuke who took the initiative. It was he who had chosen the rings. Sasuke had chosen to use his maternal grandparents' wedding rings. Thinking back to his grandfather, a gruff man, and his grandmother, a taciturn woman, he had made his decision. The wedding rings were simple, unadorned rings of white gold. For all to see, Sasuke grabbed Hinata's left hand and slipped the ring onto her finger. Hinata in turn did the same. And with this simple gesture before witnesses, they were married. They were still holding hands when a prayer was intoned to close the ceremony.

The reception was brief, but lively. Friends and family were invited to share a meal in honor of the bride and groom. Sasuke and Hinata spoke very little, only polite expressions of thanks leaving their lips. Hinata did, however, try to put a smile on her face whenever her sister looked at her. She wanted to appear serene and dignified in all circumstances. Sasuke maintained an impenetrable air, as if the events he was living through didn't really concern him. He was simply there. And that was all.

As tradition dictated, the newlyweds left their guests in the late afternoon. The groom would then take his bride to her new home, where the union could be consummated out of sight. Watching her older sister leave, Hanabi felt her heart break, and she was sure she could hear Hinata's heart breaking too.

"This is your room", he announced, opening the door to the second bedroom of the house.

The young woman's belongings were stored in the room. She knew that her personal belongings had been brought in during the ceremony. It was strange, however, to see what belonged to her, here, in this place.

Hinata's eyes widened in surprise. She hadn't expected to have her own room. A microscopic smile formed on her lips. Sasuke stared at the room without really seeing it. As throughout the long day, he seemed absent, elsewhere. "It's been as hard a day for him as it has been for me," she thought. And it was strange, because it was he who had asked for this marriage. Not her. It was because of him that they were in this situation. He'd chosen this marriage.

Sasuke had just shown Hinata around the house that was now hers. She had been able to appreciate the cleanliness and order that reigned in the house of the last Uchiha. She had also been able to appreciate the sense of emptiness that reigned there. The deafening silence, the meticulous, almost clinical state the house was in. Especially since they'd found themselves alone, a heavy atmosphere surrounded the two ninjas. And as time passed, and the moon outside took the place of the sun, this heavy atmosphere grew.

"Thank you," she replied, refusing to meet his gaze.

Without another word, Sasuke headed for the bathroom. It was only when she heard the water running that she let out a noisy sigh. Placing a hand on her temple, she realized that her fingers were icy cold. A shiver ran down her spine as she felt her breath catch. Her heart missed a beat and she felt as if she were choking.

"Breathe in. Breathe in, breathe out. Just breathe."

She began to undo her hair. She removed the jewels, the clips, the pins so that her hair could once again fall freely to her shoulders. She ran a hand through her hair, enjoying its softness. She absent-mindedly combed her hair with her fingers.

Her senses alert, she could hear Sasuke exit the bathroom and enter another room. The master bedroom, as he had introduced it to her. When he had introduced her to this room, she had thought she saw a furtive blush on Sasuke's cheeks. But it had disappeared as quickly as she had thought it had appeared. Now she was the one blushing. Then she heard a door slam shut.

"Breathe in. Breathe out."

A knock on his door roused Sasuke from his torpor.

After discarding his wedding garb and grooming himself, he locked himself in his room. He had changed into something more comfortable. Locked in this room, the master bedroom as he himself had described it to Hinata, he was pacing back and forth, dark thoughts and sharingan activated when the knock came.

His hair still wet from his shower, drops drenching his neck, he went to open the door.

There she was, on his doorstep. Still dressed in her Shiromuku, her eyes riveted to the floor. Looking at her, he could see that her cheeks were flushed and her breath was short. He found her fragile. Worse than that, she looked frightened. He wanted to force her to raise her head, to meet his gaze. He wanted to paint a proud look on her face, to erase the fear on her features. "Don't be afraid", he wanted to tell her. But he didn't.

"I, I need help."

She had squeaked, more than spoken. Her voice almost inaudible. She still refused to look at him and kept her gaze riveted to the floor. Her hair loose, it framed her face, hiding her distraught figure. With her hands she played nervously with the belt of her kimono.

"I can't take it off by myself," she finally added after a moment.

An involuntary grunt escaped from Sasuke's throat.

"Please."

At last, she looked up at him. Her large white eyes stared back at him-he was sure he saw a gleam of terror in her pupilless orbs. It was when he felt this image burn itself into his memory that he realized his sharingan was still activated. He could only imagine the monstrous reflection it must have sent back to her. He was used to the terror his red pupil could create. Yet his heart ached to see her, the woman who had become his wife, frightened by his genetic attribute. He deactivated his dojutsu and invited her into the room.

"Come," he said simply.

His voice wasn't gentle, but it wasn't harsh either. Hinata was content with that. Eyes fixed on the last Uchiha's back, she followed him until he paused in front of an antique pedestal mirror. She stood facing the mirror while the man who had become her husband stood right behind her. She felt his warm breath sweep away the few loose strands of hair that had fallen to the nape of her neck. She shivered.

She closed her eyes and Sasuke began to undo her kimono. With meticulous movements, he untied the various panels of the precious garment. It took him a moment-it was the first time he'd done this. Hinata kept her eyes closed-not wanting to see her husband's reflection in the mirror as he undressed her. Yet, while she had struggled all evening to keep her breathing normal, at that moment she felt as if her lungs were full of air. She was breathing. She was breathing well.

"It was my mother's kimono. The one she wore on her wedding day. "

Hearing her voice, Sasuke glanced in the mirror. Eyes still closed, his wife smiled slightly. Without realizing it, a smile took shape on his lips.

"That's a beautiful kimono," he finally replied, his eyes still fixed on the mirror's reflection.

"Thank you," she murmured, barely audible.

Sasuke turned his attention back to his task. Silently, he continued to untie the kimono. As he untied the last panel, the garment fell to the floor with a heavy thud. Before him, in front of the mirror, Hinata found herself in a flesh-colored nightgown. He recoiled as he felt a familiar tingling start in his pupil. His sharingan was about to be triggered-wanting to embrace the silhouette of the young woman in front of him with his red gaze. His dojutsu was unconsciously trying to keep in mind the image before him. The young woman's white skin, the shape of her form, the beauty of her body. He then shook his head, regaining control, and keeping his dojutsu deactivated.

"Go to bed," he finally told her.

Hinata gasped and opened her eyes. She had expected to find Sasuke's gaze in the reflection of the mirror, but he had turned around. She saw only his back. His dark hair fell to the nape of his neck.

As if in a trance, she made her way to the bed and slipped under the covers. She hadn't even realized she'd slipped into that bed.

Sasuke turned and saw his wife in bed, in their bed. His heart missed a beat. His breath caught. He gasped for air.

"Hinata," he murmured, unable to say anything else.

In fact, he couldn't even think. He could see her in their bed, and was as if frozen. Then she looked up at him, and their eyes met. Black and white. White and black.

"They'll check, you know," she said at last, her pupilless eyes still planted in his.

This seemed to bring him back to reality. He imagined eyes like hers, wide open, watching them both. Verifying that they were sharing the same bed, consummating this union. That was what really made a marriage official, they both knew. Rage invaded him. She saw it, but wasn't frightened. On the contrary, she offered him a smile. A real smile. His heart missed a second beat.

"I'm sorry."

"Me too."

He slipped back into bed. She shivered. He turned to her. She shivered again. He put a hand on her cheek, and she stopped shivering. She was still looking at him, her big-too-big eyes watching him apprehensively. With his hand still on her face, he gently caressed her cheek. He wasn't used to being gentle. It wasn't unpleasant.

"It'll be all right," he said in what he hoped was a gentle voice.

She nodded gently.

Clumsily, they consummated their union. It was brief and strange. They didn't kiss, which they were both glad about. Yet while they were both losing something that had long belonged to them, for a moment, they felt they were gaining something else. They were losing their virginity, their innocence, but gaining an ally, a companion. This feeling was brief, soon replaced by a painful apathy.

After that, they fell asleep-their union consummated, they could now escape into another reality.