Chapter Text
“Children should be seen and not heard.”
Hinata had heard the old doctrine too many times to count in her young life, and she knew it would always be true . . . at least, for noble lines like the Hyuga Clan; aristocrats, high-blooded officials, fancy politicians, they always held to that idea. The children of their houses were not borne of love, nor raised with patience and affection. Children in families like hers were trophies, legacies, possessions, empty vessels in which to place the ideals of their elders. They had no minds of their own, no hearts, no emotions; they were tools.
She remembered her cousin, Neji, once likened his life as a member of the branch family to that of a caged bird, and while Hinata knew that — as a member of the head family — she had numerous advantages over him, not the least which being the absence of a curse seal which made him a slave in all but name to the clan patriarch . . . sometimes she felt like a caged bird too. Neji might have had it worse, but that didn’t exactly make Hinata’s life a stroll in the park.
Hinata was the firstborn child, the one on whose shoulders rested the hopes of the clan, and that meant she was constantly scrutinized. Like she was some prized weapon on display in a museum, she was constantly checked for flaws and cracks; whenever one was found, she was reforged by the flame and hammer of their lectures, smashed upon the anvil of their disdain.
“You are a Hyuga. You are better than they. You will prove yourself or you will be cast out. Prove the worth of the blood in your veins or have the decency to spill it with dignity.”
Hinata had heard all their stock phrases too many times. Even when she won out, even when she succeeded, even when she earned their praise — rare as that was — they would remind her of her duty to them and the clan. It was like she would never be good enough, and even if she one day got good enough, they would complain about how long it’d taken.
Hanabi Hyuga’s reputation glowed in comparison to her sister’s, but it still wasn’t good enough. She was stronger, faster, better than Hinata in every regard, they said, but being better than the disgrace that Hinata was didn’t really amount to much, now, did it?
It wasn’t fair. Hinata was older. She was the heiress of Hiashi Hyuga; that meant that she was the one in the spotlight, constantly scrutinized, lectured. Hanabi should have been allowed to fade in the background, to grow at her own pace without the whip-crack of their cold, slate-grey eyes biting into her back.
Hanabi wanted to hate her sister for her failure; everyone else seemed to.
It would have felt so good, so simple, to hate her; to resent her, to blame her, to put everything on her shoulders, so that Hanabi would at least have a target at which to vent her anger.
But Hanabi couldn’t hate her big sister.
As much as she wanted to, she couldn’t.
“Hana?”
Looking up, Hanabi watched as her elder stepped into her bedroom, with her new forehead protector displayed proudly around her neck. It made the younger Hyuga smile; her Neesama was a ninja now, not just a student.
Hanabi had wanted to attend the commencement ceremony, but their father had had . . . previous engagements.
“Congratulations, Neesama!” Hanabi chirped.
Hinata smiled. “Thank you, Hana.” She bowed. “It’s official now. Gaara-kun and Naruto-kun both passed, too.”
Hanabi knew her sister’s friends only by association; it was vanishingly rare that she saw them, since they’d yet to be invited to the clan compound, and Hanabi almost never wandered the village proper. On the rare occasions she had seen Gaara and Naruto, however, she’d thought them to be interesting — if strange — people. They were a good sort, she thought. Hanabi didn’t understand what it was about them that her lord father seemed to hate so much, but then . . . Hiashi Hyuga didn’t particularly like anyone, so perhaps that was to be expected.
“I heard Naruto failed,” Hanabi said.
Hinata nodded. “He did, at first. He was allowed to take a second exam. Iruka-sensei reevaluated his performance, so now he’s officially a shinobi of the Hidden Leaf. Same as us.”
“Oh? Wow. Good for him. So, when do you all get your first assignments?”
“In a few days. I guess we’re all being assigned jonin commanders right now. We won’t find out about them until we meet them.”
Hanabi smiled. Hinata joined the academy out of necessity — “No Hyuga will be a common civilian,” their father declared — not out of desire or interest; but ever since visiting the Hidden Sand village, she seemed to find a new determination; and now, three years later, everything was falling into place.
There was so much happiness in Hinata’s elfin face that Hanabi couldn’t help but be happy with her. That was one thing about Hinata that Hanabi was especially grateful for: she didn’t hide her emotions. She didn’t keep up a permanent poker face, like a proper soldier. She was honest. In a noble family, especially a shinobi family, honesty wasn’t exactly a common commodity. To find it anywhere, in fact, was rare in the extreme.
In the entirety of the Hyuga Clan, Hinata was perhaps the only honest member; and she was, by that metric, the only real family that Hanabi could latch onto; she was a comforting, familiar presence in a sea of strangers. She was the only one who treated Hanabi like a full human being, with her own thoughts and feelings, who was worthy of real attention.
“Is Otousama sleeping already?” Hinata asked, snapping Hanabi out of her reverie.
“Uh . . . yes,” she said. “He retired to bed an hour ago.”
Hinata nodded. “I shouldn’t bother him, then. Goodnight, Hana.”
“Goodnight, Neesama,” said Hanabi.
There were usually precious few words spoken between them on a given day, but that was all that was needed. They were both quiet, were the daughters of Hiashi Hyuga, and they only needed to exchange a few simple phrases to keep in tune with each other.
Maybe the rest of the clan turned its collective nose up at Hinata because she was weak, slow, dull, but Hanabi admired her sister. Hinata wasn’t any of those things. There was so much strength, so much conviction, in Hinata Hyuga’s small, shy smile that Hanabi couldn’t understand how anyone claiming to have “perfect” eyes could miss it.
The next day, Hanabi found herself free for the day, and so Hinata took her to have lunch at Ichiraku, which was Naruto’s favorite eatery. As she waited for her ramen to be served, the younger Hyuga sister looked around the commercial district that she so rarely got to see; she watched the people bustling about, talking, gossiping, laughing. It was a refreshing change from the stuffy silence of the Hyuga compound.
“Neesama,” said Hanabi, tapping her sister’s shoulder and pointing, “isn’t that your friend?”
“Hm?” Hinata looked over. “Oh! Yes. Yes, it is. Gaara-kun!”
The red-haired youth glanced over, nodded acknowledgement, then walked over to them. He slipped his hands into the pockets of his black pants and rolled his shoulders. “Hello,” he said. He inclined his head in Hanabi’s direction. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”
“Good afternoon, Gaara-san.”
Hinata quirked an eyebrow. “You look tired, Gaara-kun. Have you been busy?”
“I . . . wouldn’t call it that, no,” Gaara said. “I have been . . . audience to Naruto being beaten to a pulp.”
“Um . . . what does that mean?”
Hearing the worry in Hinata’s voice, Gaara smiled lightly and waved a dismissive hand. “He is being his usual self. He is apparently . . . teaching his seduction technique to Sarutobi-sama’s grandson.”
Hanabi’s face screwed up. “Seduction technique?”
“For lack of a more specific way of putting it . . . I have yet to puzzle out the specifics . . . it’s a sex-change genjutsu. Naruto claims it’s for subterfuge, hiding from or surprising the enemy. But . . . somehow, I doubt that was its original purpose. Anyway, the point is, it’s evidently caught the interest of Konohamaru-sama, because he’s been following Naruto all day, trying to learn it.”
“What did you mean about him getting . . . beaten?” Hinata asked.
Gaara’s smile sharpened just a bit. “His instruction has caught the attention of various civilian women, and . . . they haven’t taken especially kindly to it. One would think a person could only ever have two black eyes. Naruto is attempting to prove that wrong, it seems.”
Hinata frowned. “I hope he doesn’t get hurt too badly.”
Gaara crossed his arms over his chest. “He will be fine.” He sat down on a stool beside Hinata and leaned on the bar. When asked for his order, he requested a small bowl of miso soup. “So . . . what has brought you out into the commercial district, Hanabi?”
“Neesama brought me here for lunch,” Hanabi said.
Gaara nodded. “It might do you well to come out into the open air more often.” He frowned, and his brow creased. “You look pale. Are you all right?”
Hanabi thought about bringing up the fact that Gaara wasn’t exactly a bronzed paragon of good health, himself, but she held her tongue. He seemed honestly concerned, and Hanabi wondered if he had health troubles of his own. She decided it was best to assume her sister’s friend was being earnest, and opted not to meet kindness with mockery.
She’d heard stories about the mysterious boy from the Hidden Sand who controlled his surroundings, but she wasn’t sure how many of them she could believe. It was true that Hanabi didn’t know Gaara all that well — aside from her own family, Hanabi didn’t know anyone very well — but he certainly didn’t seem anything at all like the dangerous, ill-adjusted menace she’d heard about; there was, in fact, a tranquility about Gaara that she couldn’t help but appreciate. It made her feel calm. Secure, even. She couldn’t imagine fearing this boy.
She couldn’t imagine fearing Naruto Uzumaki, either, for that matter.
A sudden crash, followed by women screaming, made Gaara flinch.
“Here we go,” Gaara muttered. “You were told not to try sneaking into the bathhouse again.” He left some money on the bar, drained his bowl of soup like it was a drink, and stood up. “I suppose I ought to survey the damage. Have a good lunch, you two.”
He bowed at the waist, then vanished.
Hinata smiled. “Naruto-kun keeps finding new ways to get into trouble.”
It sounded like she might have been trying to reprimand her friend, but it didn’t stick. Hanabi could hear the admiration, the adoration, in her sister’s voice whenever she talked about Naruto; no matter what he did, that adoration never faltered. It was like he could do no wrong.
Hanabi wondered about that. Sure, he’d inspired Hinata to seriously pursue her training as a kunoichi, and she had grown impressively for having been close with him for three years, but Hanabi couldn’t help but worry at least a little bit about how much her crush blinded her; she hoped it wouldn’t hurt Hinata in the end.
Hinata dealt with enough pain and disappointment as it was.
When the food arrived, Hanabi settled down to eat, and she decided it would be best to just wait and see. If nothing else, it would probably be . . . entertaining.
“There you are.” Gaara strolled idly up to Naruto.
Looking up, Naruto laughed. “Hey-hey, Gaara. How’s it goin’?”
“Your bruises are already healing.”
Naruto shrugged. “I’ve always healed fast.”
“I recall.” Gaara sat down on the felled tree stump Naruto was already occupying, and he looked up at the leaf-choked branches above their heads. “Where is Konohamaru-sama?”
“Ah, he went home,” said Naruto.
“Any progress?”
“Definitely.” Naruto nodded emphatically. “He’s got it down pretty good, I think. Now I think he’s gonna shake up with my harem technique.”
“. . . I don’t think I want to know what the harem technique is.”
Naruto beamed. “Knocked old man Ebisu out flat.”
“Ebisu . . . that is Konohamaru-sama’s private tutor, is he not?”
“A’yup.”
“Mm. I see.”
There was a long silence. When Naruto finally broke it, his voice was oddly contemplative. “Hey, uh . . . Gaara?”
“Yes?”
“You’ve done a lot of research on them . . . uh, Biju, right?”
“I’ve read all that I’ve managed to find, which . . . isn’t much.”
“But you know some stuff about ‘em.”
Gaara frowned thoughtfully. “Other than what I mentioned last night, I’m honestly not sure if there’s anything else that’s especially relevant. Honestly, I’m not even sure the information I’ve read is correct. A lot of documentation about the Nine are more speculation than evidence. I’d like to find something written by a fellow Jinchuriki, but . . . it seems that our predecessors were particularly private about their experiences. Perhaps they believed more in the oral tradition. For safety’s sake.”
Naruto mulled this over, looking down at his clasped hands. “So . . . this is all old news, then. They’ve done this before. People have sealed these guys in . . . other people. For a long time.”
“Yes,” said Gaara. “It’s a difficult, tenuous process. But it’s definitely been done before. I believe I am the fourth Jinchuriki to house Shukaku . . . or, at least, I’m fourth to have come from the Hidden Sand. Perhaps there were others before my birthplace was established. I’m not sure. I don’t know how many have held the Kyubi, like you, but I would imagine the number is either very limited, or very extensive. The fox’s strength is notorious, and I’m not sure how that manifests in trying to shackle it in a human body.”
Naruto put a hand on his chest. “I don’t know . . . what to feel, about there being a demon inside me. But, I mean . . . at least I get it now. Everything makes sense. I mean, about the village. Why everybody keeps glaring at me and whispering like I don’t have eyes or ears.”
“It’s not everybody,” Gaara said. “I wouldn’t go that far. Perhaps the majority of civilians . . . and older shinobi . . . but think of Iruka-sensei, and the rest of our class. They don’t hate you because of any demon. They hate you for you.”
Naruto sputtered with sudden laughter. “Thanks, man. I can feel the love.”
“Oh, come now. Even you have to admit that you get up to trouble on purpose, specifically to get a rise out of people. I think anybody except Hinata would say you’re difficult to handle when you get like that. As for me, well, I think I’ve simply built up a natural immunity.”
Naruto puffed out his chest. “None of you can appreciate my genius.”
“. . . Naturally. That must be the problem.”
“I beat a chunin yesterday, remember.”
“You had backup.”
“I’m still the one who gave Mizuki all them bruises. And anyway, I could’ve done it myself.”
“I wonder.” Gaara rubbed his chin. “Your new move is impressive. I don’t discount that. But if Mizuki hadn’t been immobilized by my sand, I wonder what kind of fight he could have put up. How resilient are your shadow clones?”
“Sounds like something we should test,” Naruto murmured thoughtfully.
“Don’t use up too much energy,” Gaara warned. “We meet our jonin commander soon, and we don’t know what we’ll be asked to do for them.”
“I’ll do so good, they’ll promote me to jonin on the first day! Maybe I’ll be your commander!”
“Oh, almost certainly.”
“I sense doubt. You don’t believe me? You just watch, Gaara! It’s gonna happen!”
Gaara nodded amicably. “I’m sure it will.”
“You aren’t even listening to me, are you?”
“Absolutely.”
“Gaara.”
“So . . . Naruto came in today to be instated.”
Iruka quirked an eyebrow. “He did, yes.”
Sarutobi chuckled. “So, he commits a grave crime against the village, stealing a forbidden scroll, and you reward him with graduation. He must have been very impressive.”
Iruka nodded. “Very much so. All that said, there are extenuating circumstances regarding Mizuki’s involvement in that theft. I must ask that you trust my judgment when I say that Naruto was as much a victim in this situation as your good self.”
“Very well, Iruka, very well.” Sarutobi drew in a breath. “I saw something quite interesting today.”
Iruka rolled his eyes. “I hear he . . . tested his seduction technique on you.”
Sarutobi cleared his throat. “Well, yes, but that isn’t what I meant. I mean to say that he seems to have learned a technique from the scroll: the shadow clone.” He stroked his beard. “A dangerous technique, indeed.”
“Due to its rapid depletion of chakra reserves, I believe,” Iruka said. Sarutobi nodded. “Something that Naruto . . . realistically, anyway, has no need to concern himself with. We’ve always noted his frankly inhuman stamina. However, we cannot ignore the fact that his final exam was cloning, and he’s jumped right over it to learn something even harder. It’s . . . not especially surprising, I don’t think, that he would be such a maverick about this. It’s in his nature.”
Sarutobi nodded. “Now that you mention it, I’m struggling to imagine Naruto being able to drain his chakra reserves, given how quickly he seems to recover. Permit me to understand something: Mizuki led Naruto to believe that he needed to learn a technique from the forbidden scroll. Is that correct?”
“Yes, sir.” Iruka nodded. “Mizuki let Naruto in on a ‘secret’ that, if he learned a jutsu from that scroll, and displayed his mastery in front of an academy instructor, that it would result in an immediate graduation. A retake, in other words.”
“Well . . . I don’t suppose I can blame the poor boy for seeking out a way to push past his limitations. He’s been doing that for quite some time, hasn’t he?” Sarutobi hummed low in his throat. “I don’t think I like just how often he forces me to bend the rules to accommodate him. But . . . well, shinobi ought not be pigeonholed by laws, should they?”
Iruka nodded. “Mm. I think that’s wise, sir.” He paused. “Have you finalized a jonin commander for him?”
“He needs refinement and discipline, but in a way that suits his . . . unique temperament,” Sarutobi said. “I think Kakashi Hatake will be best suited to this.”
“You’ve signed off on my recommendation for his squad-mates?”
“I have. Honestly, I don’t think there is another choice in the matter. They’ve all but formed a squad of their own already. I think if I tried to separate them, they would still work together to spite me.”
Iruka laughed quietly. “It wouldn’t surprise me,” he said. “I’m not sure if I envy Kakashi or pity him. He’s certainly in for an interesting few years, isn’t he?”
“That’s one way to put it.” Sarutobi smiled wistfully. “One thing that will benefit him, I think, is that they are already quite used to working together. It won’t be hard, I think, to push them into refining that work. Especially considering the report you left me this morning.”
Iruka stood to leave, then stopped himself. “. . . When did you have a chance to see Naruto use shadow clones, sir?”
“He has already managed to combine his shadow clones with another technique. It’s quite advanced, actually.”
“. . . Oh? What did he do?”
“He calls it his harem technique.”
Iruka blinked.
“. . . Oh.”
“Mm.”
Iruka left the Hokage’s office without another word.