Angst babies!
Is it a good thing or a bad thing when you write something more... pessimistic than Rosemary? Okay sintari, I was saying that I'd write another gift fic, this time relating to the story, and I finally plowed through schoolwork/writer's block/sheer procrastination/all of the above to get it done.
Really, I kinda thought that up to Hinata's drowning scene, she would certainly die. So here's how I kinda figured that it could have been...
Bitter Waters: Hinata
She stood in the middle of Nakano River and swept her gaze over to her home as Hyuga Hinata, her home as Uzumaki Hinata, and the dark waters that bridged the two. Any other time, she could have danced on the water, but instead she chose to exhale and stop the flow of chakra to her feet.
It was almost surprising how fast the water was closing over her head, but she kept her eyes opened.
Hinata could imagine many things as she was submerging. She imagines hearing the icy creak of the stars, the seasons, and the tides as they turn over and over. She imagines the world spinning under her feet until it comes upon Hyuga Himiko's final resting place. She imagines herself dissolving and drifting apart, becoming lighter, as if she were never there.
"Be the colour of water."
She saw the line of the surface as it passed before her sight and she sunk to where the light and shadows were just as fluid. Even as she sank, she felt like she was floating.
As she made her descent, she felt she had eternity to reflect on her short life. Of family, of love, of happiness, and the nature of such things.
That such things always trickled past her fingers.
Nothing ever stayed; not for Hinata. She realized that she would never be good enough for anyone, and no matter how much she loved them - Okaasan, Naruto-kun, Neji-niisan - they always left her behind.
The knowledge that she would never love someone enough to keep them, and that no one ever loved her enough to stay, sat much heavier and more fixed than the stones in her pockets and lining of her formal yukata.
A sigh formed from her lips. She watched it float to the surface and wondered which piece flew from her.
It was probably one of her memories, for in the curve of that bubble, she saw a dirty, marked forehead on a Wednesday afternoon.
It turned and became the pregnant swell of a belly, then disappeared from her sight.
She sighed again, and saw the curl of a tongue over a sharp toothed smile.
The clearness of another large bubble reminded her of white stones. Its center turned dark, and she remembered a blue lake on a starry night.
Scant light wholly illuminated the bubble, and it became a cheap wedding band.
Or paper white eyes in the cold spring rain.
Or wide childish ones engaged in a staring contest.
Her eyes began to sting.
More pale orbs scattered before her vision.
A million unblinking memories staring back at her.
Above all, she saw love, shining silver in Neji's eyes.
From their last meeting atop the gates to their first on the day of his marking.
His eyes.
His father's eyes.
Himiko's...
Hinata closed hers, willing herself not to see.
He is to die at dawn by Hanabi's will - what could she do?
Whatever it was, it would not be enough, Hinata thought, and turned her mind to when she was supposed to die. Maybe it was when she first peered into the bird bath, or when her mother took her first steps into the Nakano River.
Her lids fluttered and she imagined that all her colours were drained away by now.
She drank deep of the water, aware of it filling her entirety - this was the only way for a Hyuga woman to survive.
Hinata's last breath deserted her body, along with the unwanted tears she never felt herself cry.
Bitter Waters: Neji
Though it was already past dawn, the light had yet to climb above the high walls of the Hyuga compound.
Neji was lead to the still shadowed area of what was once Himiko's garden. There was nothing but grass here now, and even it was yellowed and dry.
No matter. The dirt would be upturned for new foundations to be laid.
Neji held his head up, his gait purposeful, his eyes fixed upon a point in the wall. He was certain that that was what Hinata-sama saw when she looked out of her garden shed.
Just past that was the Nakano River.
Some poor washer girl had been neglectful of her duties and went down to the river before sunrise, before anyone was the wiser. One of the bed sheets in her load had gotten away from her and drifted off, then stopped in the middle of the river. A genin team on their morning exercises had helped her fetch the errant cloth, walking on the water's surface to retrieve it. With perplexing difficulty, they had dragged it back to the bank only to discover a pale hand was entangled on the end.
"I think that a person can die of failure."
When he had heard the news, he had made a request of Hanabi-sama.
Hanabi-sama's face momentarily contorted, but then her eyes widened and narrowed at once in amusement.
He would be dead anyways.
With a sweep of her tongue over her front teeth, she had granted him this.
Neji came to a halt in a section of the garden, most likely the bed where Hinata-sama's herbs (her mother's herbs) grew.
It was just another patch of dead grass, and he looked away to regard the rows and rows of pale faced, white-eyed paper dolls. Their somber faces appeared to be etched on.
Hanabi-sama took her place as the head of this spectacle, her husband and his family relegated far enough from her side. She made a stern speech declaring that the last of the Hyuga's shame would end today. Her unmarked sister was dead, a consequence of deserting the safety of the clan. Her rapist had plead and plead his remorse and would commit seppuku to restore honour. She held him up as an example, his loyalty (obedience) was impeccable that there was no need for her to push punishment, he took it on his own; if only all Hyuga clearly displayed the values of strength and allegiance to the head that were the mark of her leadership.
At her command, Neji descended to kneel in preparation.
There was no haiku to compose, no sake to drink, no ceremonial aikuchi gilded with the family crest.
All he had was an exceptionally sharp kunai and a loosely opened kimono.
One of his cheeks appeared to swell as he raised the tool.
Neji bowed his head.
He had chosen this, just like his father had chosen his own death, and just like Himiko-sama and Hinata-sama had chosen theirs. In his throat, it burned stronger than any alcohol that there was no noble sacrifice, no one left to save.
He bit down as the edge plunged into him.
Blood and all the confessions he had saved for her filled his useless, silent mouth. The bitter taste, the pain, the unsaid things choked him and made his eyes water.
His vision blurred and dimmed, deigning him to think of green light and sea glass. To think of Hinata, of love, of regrets.
Maybe he would tell her, maybe in another life.
Red pooled on the grass before him, but he noted how one dead, browned blade leaned against another.
His eyes flickered skywards, and he caught a smeared glimpse of long black hair and pale eyes fixed intently on him.
His body sank forward, neck craned to see above the wall.
The cursed seal overtook Neji's vision before Hanabi's tongue fully slid over the edge of her smile.
This is all wishful thinking. Really, like I could write good angst. I pale in comparison. ^_^
Really, I kinda thought that up to Hinata's drowning scene, she would certainly die. So here's how I kinda figured that it could have been...
Bitter Waters: Hinata
She stood in the middle of Nakano River and swept her gaze over to her home as Hyuga Hinata, her home as Uzumaki Hinata, and the dark waters that bridged the two. Any other time, she could have danced on the water, but instead she chose to exhale and stop the flow of chakra to her feet.
It was almost surprising how fast the water was closing over her head, but she kept her eyes opened.
Hinata could imagine many things as she was submerging. She imagines hearing the icy creak of the stars, the seasons, and the tides as they turn over and over. She imagines the world spinning under her feet until it comes upon Hyuga Himiko's final resting place. She imagines herself dissolving and drifting apart, becoming lighter, as if she were never there.
"Be the colour of water."
She saw the line of the surface as it passed before her sight and she sunk to where the light and shadows were just as fluid. Even as she sank, she felt like she was floating.
As she made her descent, she felt she had eternity to reflect on her short life. Of family, of love, of happiness, and the nature of such things.
That such things always trickled past her fingers.
Nothing ever stayed; not for Hinata. She realized that she would never be good enough for anyone, and no matter how much she loved them - Okaasan, Naruto-kun, Neji-niisan - they always left her behind.
The knowledge that she would never love someone enough to keep them, and that no one ever loved her enough to stay, sat much heavier and more fixed than the stones in her pockets and lining of her formal yukata.
A sigh formed from her lips. She watched it float to the surface and wondered which piece flew from her.
It was probably one of her memories, for in the curve of that bubble, she saw a dirty, marked forehead on a Wednesday afternoon.
It turned and became the pregnant swell of a belly, then disappeared from her sight.
She sighed again, and saw the curl of a tongue over a sharp toothed smile.
The clearness of another large bubble reminded her of white stones. Its center turned dark, and she remembered a blue lake on a starry night.
Scant light wholly illuminated the bubble, and it became a cheap wedding band.
Or paper white eyes in the cold spring rain.
Or wide childish ones engaged in a staring contest.
Her eyes began to sting.
More pale orbs scattered before her vision.
A million unblinking memories staring back at her.
Above all, she saw love, shining silver in Neji's eyes.
From their last meeting atop the gates to their first on the day of his marking.
His eyes.
His father's eyes.
Himiko's...
Hinata closed hers, willing herself not to see.
He is to die at dawn by Hanabi's will - what could she do?
Whatever it was, it would not be enough, Hinata thought, and turned her mind to when she was supposed to die. Maybe it was when she first peered into the bird bath, or when her mother took her first steps into the Nakano River.
Her lids fluttered and she imagined that all her colours were drained away by now.
She drank deep of the water, aware of it filling her entirety - this was the only way for a Hyuga woman to survive.
Hinata's last breath deserted her body, along with the unwanted tears she never felt herself cry.
Bitter Waters: Neji
Though it was already past dawn, the light had yet to climb above the high walls of the Hyuga compound.
Neji was lead to the still shadowed area of what was once Himiko's garden. There was nothing but grass here now, and even it was yellowed and dry.
No matter. The dirt would be upturned for new foundations to be laid.
Neji held his head up, his gait purposeful, his eyes fixed upon a point in the wall. He was certain that that was what Hinata-sama saw when she looked out of her garden shed.
Just past that was the Nakano River.
Some poor washer girl had been neglectful of her duties and went down to the river before sunrise, before anyone was the wiser. One of the bed sheets in her load had gotten away from her and drifted off, then stopped in the middle of the river. A genin team on their morning exercises had helped her fetch the errant cloth, walking on the water's surface to retrieve it. With perplexing difficulty, they had dragged it back to the bank only to discover a pale hand was entangled on the end.
"I think that a person can die of failure."
When he had heard the news, he had made a request of Hanabi-sama.
Hanabi-sama's face momentarily contorted, but then her eyes widened and narrowed at once in amusement.
He would be dead anyways.
With a sweep of her tongue over her front teeth, she had granted him this.
Neji came to a halt in a section of the garden, most likely the bed where Hinata-sama's herbs (her mother's herbs) grew.
It was just another patch of dead grass, and he looked away to regard the rows and rows of pale faced, white-eyed paper dolls. Their somber faces appeared to be etched on.
Hanabi-sama took her place as the head of this spectacle, her husband and his family relegated far enough from her side. She made a stern speech declaring that the last of the Hyuga's shame would end today. Her unmarked sister was dead, a consequence of deserting the safety of the clan. Her rapist had plead and plead his remorse and would commit seppuku to restore honour. She held him up as an example, his loyalty (obedience) was impeccable that there was no need for her to push punishment, he took it on his own; if only all Hyuga clearly displayed the values of strength and allegiance to the head that were the mark of her leadership.
At her command, Neji descended to kneel in preparation.
There was no haiku to compose, no sake to drink, no ceremonial aikuchi gilded with the family crest.
All he had was an exceptionally sharp kunai and a loosely opened kimono.
One of his cheeks appeared to swell as he raised the tool.
Neji bowed his head.
He had chosen this, just like his father had chosen his own death, and just like Himiko-sama and Hinata-sama had chosen theirs. In his throat, it burned stronger than any alcohol that there was no noble sacrifice, no one left to save.
He bit down as the edge plunged into him.
Blood and all the confessions he had saved for her filled his useless, silent mouth. The bitter taste, the pain, the unsaid things choked him and made his eyes water.
His vision blurred and dimmed, deigning him to think of green light and sea glass. To think of Hinata, of love, of regrets.
Maybe he would tell her, maybe in another life.
Red pooled on the grass before him, but he noted how one dead, browned blade leaned against another.
His eyes flickered skywards, and he caught a smeared glimpse of long black hair and pale eyes fixed intently on him.
His body sank forward, neck craned to see above the wall.
The cursed seal overtook Neji's vision before Hanabi's tongue fully slid over the edge of her smile.
This is all wishful thinking. Really, like I could write good angst. I pale in comparison. ^_^