Chapter Text
“Please, Hinata-sama, I must ask you to be still,” Neji snapped.
“G-gomen nasai,” she squeaked, but she caught herself toying with a strand of her hair again not ten seconds later. Whenever her father ordered Neji, who had been her servant and protector since his father died three years ago, to dress her in her formal white kimono, it was because something bad was going to happen. Either the Clan Elders were going to lecture her for some failing or weakness, or she was going to be forced to accompany her father to some important gathering, where said failing or weakness would take place.
Very carefully, Neji wrapped his fingers around her wrist and pulled her hand away from her hair. He hated her, she knew it with every fiber of her being, but he was never rough with her. Her father might favor him due to his talent for the shinobi arts, but the head family would not tolerate him hurting their Heiress.
“My Lord has given me leave to tie my Heiress’s hands behind her back if she continues fidgeting,” he warned.
Hinata flinched. When Neji referred to her in the third person, he was angry. She clenched her fists and kept them at her sides as he smoothed out her hair with a white comb. She could feel the tension in his hands as he fought to be gentle. It made her want to run as fast as she could in the other direction, but if she did, she would only make things worse. Neji hated it when she was weak or afraid, and he only became more furious when he couldn’t vent that rage. When they sparred, he was brutal, but he always stopped the instant her father ordered the match to end. The looks he’d give her then...
No, I can’t run away. I can’t be weak again, she told herself. After five minutes of perfect stillness, Neji stepped back and studied her. He gave her a tight nod and she bolted from the room. She flew around the corner into the hallway and stumbled, crashing face-first into the hard, wooden floor.
Heavy footsteps pounded toward her and she saw her father’s blurred face through her tears. “Otou-sama, I’m s-s-sorry, I f-fell,” she said.
He grabbed her by the throat when she tried to scramble away from him. “Six years old, and you have not learned to walk properly. I pray your sister grows stronger than you have. At least I’ll be rid of you soon enough.” Hinata whimpered as his grip tightened, cutting off her air for a brief moment before he set her on her feet and shoved her away. “Wait for me outside.”
She rushed to obey, and didn’t even take the time to consider his words until she was sitting on the edge of the wide porch that encircled the Hyuuga manor. He’ll be rid of me soon enough? Why would he say that? Where are we going? She almost started to cry, but she heard her father approaching from behind. Dodging one thrashing was the extent of her luck, most days.
She rose and bowed to him. “P-please forgive me, Otou-sama. I d-d-didn’t m-mean t-to—”
“If you cannot speak properly, keep silent. You will not embarrass me today.”
The words died in her throat. She tried to speak correctly, she really did, but the words didn’t always come out. It made her father so angry that she had almost stopped trying. She followed a half step behind him as he started walking, her legs pumping beneath the tight skirts to keep up with his long stride. She didn’t have time to really observe her surroundings, only dimly noticing that they crossed through the market district, crowded with people going about their errands. Terrified that she would get separated from him in the mass of people, she clutched at her father’s hand, but he snatched it out of reach without looking back. Is that what he wants, for me to get lost here? she wondered, fear making her breath come in short gasps. She was practically running as they cleared the last of the fruit stands, but she felt a little flush of pride that she hadn’t fallen too far behind.
Her father turned down a narrow alley and stopped, looking back at her. “Out of breath already?”
She shook her head rapidly.
With a sigh, he pulled a little cloth out of his pocket and wiped the sweat from her face, and then dragged another of those dreaded combs through her hair with none of Neji’s gentleness. By the time he was finished, Hinata had stopped gasping for air and managed to present herself with at least a small amount of dignity.
“Listen well,” he said quietly. “I will tolerate no mistakes today. None. You will not cause any offense to our hosts. You will obey any orders you are given without hesitation or questions. If you speak, you will do so with the utmost respect. You will do nothing to bring dishonor to the Hyuuga name.”
It was a lecture she had been given many times before. Hinata knew that any errors she made in front of others were worse than those made within the Hyuuga compound. Her back still stung with the healing lashes that she had earned for spilling a cup of juice on herself when her father had taken the family out for dinner last week.
“Have you heard a word I’ve said?” her father snapped.
“Yes, Otou-sama. I will not disappoint you,” she whispered, stunned that she had gotten all of that out without tripping over her words.
He stood up, towering over her, and gestured for her to follow. His pace was much slower, allowing her to stay beside him without having to struggle so hard. It also gave her time to actually look at what was around her. There was a high wall with steel-reinforced wooden gates ahead of them, and two men in black clothes stood in front of it. They were armed, like guards, but they weren’t wearing shinobi vests or the Konoha emblem. Instead, they each wore a small shuriken-shaped patch embossed with a red and white fan on the right sleeve. Hinata remembered the image from her etiquette lessons, but she couldn’t quite place it. She found it difficult to remember the emblems of the village’s prominent clans, something her father and the Elders often chastised her for.
“Ah, Hyuuga-sama, welcome,” one of them said, offering a bow that Hinata knew was just a little too shallow and too brief to be considered proper. That was one lesson she could recall perfectly.
Her father nodded at the man. “Fugaku-san is expecting me,” he said.
“Of course. And this must be the lovely Hinata-chan?” he asked, leaning down toward her. Rather than seeming friendly, his expression was frightening in a way Hinata didn’t fully understand.
She froze, fighting the urge to back away and hide behind her father. “I...um...”
“Yes, my daughter,” her father said icily, covering her failure to reply.
The man straightened and tapped the gate, causing the doors to swing outward. “I trust you know the way?”
“I do,” he said, leading Hinata past the two guards.
She stayed closer to him than before, feeling the man’s eyes following her as the gate closed behind them. As she looked around at the pristine white stonework, dark wooden architecture, perfectly trimmed sakura trees, and little flags bearing that red and white symbol, Hinata knew that she had never been to this place before. It was beautiful. She took in the strange sights, slowing her pace a little until she saw the twitch of her father’s hand that meant he was annoyed with her dallying. She scampered forward, eyes on the stone path so she wouldn’t stumble and embarrass herself further.
They soon came to a large manor house, where they were met by a dark-haired man and woman. The man was slightly shorter than her father, but he carried himself with the same regal bearing and had that same stern look in his onyx eyes. The woman was a few inches smaller and dressed as formally as Hinata, though her kimono was black with red and white accents. She gave Hinata an encouraging smile as the man stepped down off the porch.
“I was beginning to think that you had changed your mind,” the man said, his voice the deliberate kind of neutral that Hinata associated with Neji’s more dangerous moods.
“Have you?” her father asked.
The woman put a hand on the man’s shoulder. “Shall we discuss this inside? I’ve prepared refreshments for you, Hiashi-san, Hinata-chan.”
Hinata caught the glance her father shot her, obviously remembering the incident with the spilled juice. “We have already eaten, Mikoto-san,” he said, even though Hinata hadn’t even had breakfast yet.
Her smile didn’t change, but some of the welcoming light went out of her eyes as she ushered them into the house. Hinata followed her father over toward a deep leather sofa, but the woman, Mikoto, put a hand on her shoulder to stop her.
“Would you like to play with my sons outside while the grown-ups talk?” she offered. “Sasuke is about your age, and Itachi is a little older.”
She looked back toward her father for some clue as to what she should do, and he nodded. “You may go play if you behave yourself,” he warned.
Mikoto led her out onto the porch and around to the back of the house. There, an older boy with long, dark hair pulled back into a single tail was sitting in the grass, facing away from her so she could see that same red and white symbol emblazoned on the back of his shirt. Across from him was a smaller boy who could only be his brother. They had a shogi board between them, but the younger child looked hopelessly confused.
“I don’t get this stupid game, Nii-san! Why don’t you teach me to throw shuriken or something useful like that?” he whined.
The older boy didn’t answer, instead turning his head as if he had somehow heard their approach. Upon seeing them, he rose and bowed politely. He said something, probably introducing himself, but Hinata didn’t hear him. She was too fascinated by the metal plate across his forehead. It couldn’t be a real hitai-ate, he was only a few years older than her, but fake ones were illegal. Why would he wear it? He could get in so much trouble!
Mikoto shook her gently. “Hinata-chan, are you well?”
She jumped and looked up at the woman before quickly averting her eyes. “G-g-gomen nasai, I...um...” She cut herself off, realizing that she was stuttering again. She feared to think how many more lashes she was going to get for her behavior so far. Or maybe her father would use his knowledge of chakra manipulation to hit her tenketsu points—the foundation of juuken combat—causing excruciating pain with no physical damage. He didn’t do that often, but if she was bad enough in front of these important people, whoever they were... “I’m f-fine, ma’am,” she forced herself to say, willing her voice not to shake.
The older boy gave her an odd look and walked over to her, causing his brother to whine again at the loss of his attention. He hesitated for a moment and then cautiously extended a hand, staying back a few feet. “Would you like to join us?”
She almost shook her head, but then she remembered that she didn’t actually have a choice. At Mikoto’s quiet prompting, she laid her trembling fingers over his and let him lead her over to the game board.
“You have nothing to fear,” he murmured. “I will look after you. No one will harm you here.”
She snuck a glance up at him, wondering if he had somehow read her mind to see her fear of her father. She couldn’t make herself speak, so she let him gently ease her down next to the board in silence.
“Who are you?” the younger boy asked rudely. “Your eyes look funny.”
“Otouto,” Itachi admonished. “Would you have the Hyuuga Heiress believe that our hospitality has fallen so low?”
Sasuke glared at his brother and walked away in a huff. “I’m going inside. You’re going to be all boring and formal, and I’m sick of playing shogi. Have fun with your stupid girlfriend.”
“Sasuke! Apologize this instant,” Itachi demanded, but the boy stuck out his tongue and bolted into the house. Itachi let him go with a sigh. “Forgive him, Hinata-chan. A son of the Uchiha blood should show greater respect to a guest.”
Uchiha. The name echoed in Hinata’s mind with the force of a blow. The Hyuuga and Uchiha clans had a bloody history of war, tentative alliances, and shameless betrayal. This had ceased with the founding of Konoha, of course, but the ill will between the two families ran deep. And now she was surrounded by her clan’s ancient enemies. And one of them had promised to take care of her. Confused and overwhelmed, Hinata felt herself start to cry.
Itachi leaned toward her, his face perfectly expressionless. “Have I upset you?”
She shook her head rapidly, terrified that she would offend him. You can’t cry in front of him. You can’t be weak, she commanded herself.
“If I have, you may tell me, and I will endeavor to make it right,” he prompted. His voice was calm and gentle despite the stilted cadence of his words. “Truth, now. Am I the reason for your tears? Or is this because of my brother’s rudeness?”
“N-no,” she whispered, keeping her eyes down.
“Then will you tell me why you are crying?” he asked.
“N-nothing. N-no reason,” she stammered. “I’m f-fine.”
He frowned. “I do not enjoy being lied to, particularly when it is so plainly obvious.”
Hinata flinched. “G-gomen nasai, gomen nasai.”
He reached out, moving slowly so he didn’t startle her, and put a finger under her chin to make her look at him. “There is no need to apologize. It is I who have frightened you, though I am uncertain how.”
She froze, not even breathing until he leaned back from her and put his hands in his lap. He didn’t move or speak and he kept his eyes on the ground, and after a while, some of Hinata’s fear started to fade. He hadn’t hurt her. He hadn’t even raised his voice at her. He had told his little brother not to say mean things to her. Maybe the stories about the Uchiha were wrong? She peeked up, relieved that he wasn’t looking at her, and took the opportunity to observe him.
His back was ramrod straight, the posture that came from being born to a powerful family. It was something Hinata had never been able to mimic. He was lean and muscular, probably from training to be a shinobi, and she saw old calluses on his hands that indicated skill with a sword. A puckered scar ran down the length of one forearm, still pink and fresh. She shuddered to think how much that must have hurt, but there was no telltale tension in his hand to give away the pain.
Shyly, she peered up to study his face with its pale, angular features framed by a few locks of raven hair, and her eyes lingered on that band of chrome across his forehead. “Itachi-san?” she asked hesitantly.
He raised his eyes, but otherwise, he didn’t move. “Yes?”
She bit her lip uncertainly. Was it wrong to ask him? Maybe he’d get upset. He probably would. She glanced back up at his face, expecting to find impatience or annoyance, but she saw only polite blankness. “I-is it okay for me to ask you a q-question?”
One corner of his mouth quirked up. “I believe you already have, but you may ask any others that you have if you would like.”
Her face reddened and she averted her eyes. “Y-your hitai-ate. I thought f-fake ones were illegal. W-won’t you get in t-trouble?”
He snorted softly. “No, I will not.”
“B-but you could go to jail!” she protested, and Itachi lowered his eyes again.
He was quiet for a moment, and she thought she had upset him, but his voice was perfectly deadpan. “It is not fake, Hinata-chan. I cannot be punished for wearing what is mine by right.”
The girl drew back instinctively. Itachi was a real shinobi? But he was just a kid! He was either lying to her, or he was some kind of genius. Most kids didn’t graduate the Academy until they turned twelve or thirteen, but he definitely wasn’t that old yet.
“Y-you’re really...” she trailed off nervously.
“I have just been promoted to Chuunin,” he said in that same tone.
Encouraged by the fact that he wasn’t watching her, Hinata leaned closer. Maybe he was older than he looked. Or maybe he really was a genius. “Oh. Congratulations.”
He looked up then, a hint of shock on his face. “Thank you.”
She blushed and turned away. Hadn’t anyone told him congratulations before? Someone must have, his parents or his brother. And he must have friends, too. Why did he look so surprised?
“Are you really strong?” she asked curiously.
He blinked. “Some believe I am, though there are many people who are far more powerful.”
“Like who?”
Itachi shook his head. “Under the proper circumstances, anyone could be. Even yourself.”
Hinata unconsciously started toying with her hair again. “I’m n-not a shinobi. Otou-sama says I never will b-be.”
“That is not the only type of strength,” he said quietly. “Though I see no reason you could not become one, if it is the form you desire.”
Hinata didn’t reply. She was too weak to be a ninja, too clumsy and too afraid. Couldn’t Itachi see that? Anyone could be. Even yourself. He was wrong. She could never be stronger than him.
“Have I upset you again?” Itachi asked, a little uncertainty creeping back into his flat voice.
She shook her head, but she remembered what he had said about not liking to be lied to. What if he thought she was lying? It wasn’t his fault she was weak. He didn’t do anything. She wanted to tell him that, but the words wouldn’t come. They never did when she was scared.
She jumped when she heard footsteps in the grass behind her. An older boy was approaching with a wide silver tray in his hands. He had the same dark hair and pale skin as Itachi, but the resemblance ended there. His glittering charcoal eyes were canted upward at the corners, giving him a vaguely exotic appearance, and a mop of loose, messy curls fell around his hitai-ate in an artless sprawl. Where Itachi was slender and lean as a sapling, this boy was built of solid, stocky muscle, and the easy grace of his movements was such a contrast to the tense boy beside her. He grinned as he drew close enough to tower over them.
“Lunch for my stubborn little Heir and his guest?” he asked.
Heir? Hinata thought, stunned. She hadn’t realized Itachi was the Uchiha Heir, the way she was for the Hyuuga clan. That would make this boy a branch member, since it wasn’t possible for the Heir to have an older brother. Shouldn’t he be more respectful? He didn’t bow or anything! If Neji did something like that to her, he’d be in so much trouble! And now that she thought about it, Itachi’s little brother had been shockingly rude to him! The head family of the Uchiha clan must be very forgiving to allow that kind of behavior to go unchallenged.
Itachi rolled his eyes. “How many times have I told you to cease this?”
The boy squatted down so he was at eye level with Itachi and set the tray in front of him. “Twenty-three.”
“It is not necessary for you to go to such trouble. For the last time, Shisui-nii, I am asking you to forget this foolishness.”
Shisui chuckled. “It’s a good thing I have your mother’s blessing to continue nagging you, then. Besides, this time, it’s as much for Hyuuga-chan’s benefit as yours. Some host you are, not even offering her something to eat.”
Itachi’s eyes widened fractionally, as if he hadn’t considered that he should have gotten her something, but Hinata blushed and ducked her head. “It’s f-fine.”
Shisui laughed. “She really is a cute little thing, ne?”
Itachi glared at him, and even Hinata could feel the dangerous crackling of his chakra. She scrambled back, but she tripped over herself and fell to the ground almost immediately.
“I didn’t mean it like that, ‘Tachi. Gods, how could you even think...” Shisui said softly, raising his hands in the universal gesture of harmlessness. “I really stuck my neck out for her sake, but there’s no swaying Fugaku-sama once he’s made a decision. I’m sorry.”
Itachi looked over at the trembling girl and in an instant, his face returned to that same blank expression and the menacing chakra vanished entirely. “I will not discuss this now.”
Shisui followed his gaze, his eyes softening with concern. “I’m sorry.”
Hinata put her hands over her eyes to hide her tears as Shisui walked away and left her alone with Itachi again. She’d never seen that kind of raw fury except from Neji, and she’d never felt chakra like that. Not even from her father. She wanted to run away, but even if she could remember how to move her legs, she didn’t know where to go.
What if Otou-sama catches me crying like this? The thought broke through some of her terror, and she peeked around the yard between her fingers. Itachi hadn’t moved, and he hadn’t touched the food the older boy had brought him. His face was as empty of emotion as before, but she saw real anger flickering in his dark eyes. Torn between her fear of Itachi and her fear of her father, Hinata slowly wiped her tears away and straightened her hair. When she went to fix her rumpled kimono, however, Itachi was suddenly at her side, his hands catching her own before she could touch the white fabric.
“Forgive me. You have dirt on your palms,” he said softly.
Hinata froze, not sure whether to be afraid or grateful that he had stopped her. “I...um...”
He dropped his eyes from hers and gently wiped her hands clean with a cloth napkin from the tray. When did he have time to get that? He moved so fast! Hinata wondered as he carefully removed all of the dirt and then released her. She watched as he picked up the tray and set it in front of her.
“Please, eat what you wish,” he said.
Hinata hesitantly picked up a piece of bread, something there was no way she could make a mess of. She nibbled off one corner, trying not to show how famished she really was. By the time she finished it, Itachi still hadn’t eaten anything. He was simply sitting on his knees, looking off in the direction that the older boy had gone with his eyes unfocused.
“D-d-don’t you w-want any?” Hinata stammered, and she ducked her head to hide when he turned toward her.
Itachi seemed to consider the question for a few seconds before he picked up a piece of onigiri. He stared at it for a long time as Hinata took one for herself. “I apologize for my behavior,” he finally said. “It seems I frighten everyone these days...”
Hinata snuck a quick glance at his face, and she thought he looked sad. He really did feel bad about it. No one ever felt bad for scaring her, they just thought she was weak. “W-was it my fault you were m-mad?” she asked, more out of curiosity than fear this time. Hinata couldn’t figure out how being told that she was cute could have offended him.
“No,” he said firmly. “You have done nothing wrong. I am troubled by other things, and I should not have allowed myself to express such feelings in front of you.”
She looked away. She had been, crying, acting weak, and stuttering every time she spoke, but somehow, Itachi wasn’t upset with her. I hope I never make him angry, she thought, shuddering.
Itachi suddenly snapped to his feet and turned toward the house, his fists clenched at his sides. She followed his gaze and saw her father...leaving? He had stepped off the porch and was now walking purposefully down the street. Without her. I’ll be rid of you soon enough. Hinata leapt up and ran toward her father, shouting for him to wait, but he didn’t seem to hear her. She tore around the corner of the house and slammed straight into Mikoto.
“Shh, darling,” the woman murmured, holding her back. “You’re staying here.”
Hinata stilled, confused. “W-w-why?”
Mikoto frowned. “It’s...complicated, and it’s not my place to explain. Come inside.”
The trembling girl let the woman lead her up onto the porch as her father passed out of sight. Why am I staying here? How long? Why didn’t Otou-sama tell me? The questions swirled in her mind, but as usual, she couldn’t make them come out of her mouth. Mikoto hesitated in the doorway, and Hinata heard low voices arguing inside. One sounded like Itachi’s.
“She’s only a child.”
“The bargain is struck. I will find her a suitable match in council tonight, and someone who will keep her until she’s old enough. You know as well as I do what a blending of the bloodlines could bring us,” an older man’s voice said.
“I only ask that you wait until she comes of age,” Itachi said. “To put a defenseless Hyuuga child in such a position... The old hatred runs deep in many of our clansmen. I refuse to consider what may happen to her.”
“What would you have me do, keep her here in my house for another decade?”
“Yes,” Itachi said quietly. “Give her this, if only as a gift to me.”
“Why?”
Itachi didn’t reply for a long moment. “If I or Sasuke behaved as she does, even when we were young, what would you have done to us? How long would we have survived?”
The older man didn’t answer.
“And if we were not your sons, but the children of your ancient foe now completely under your power? What then?” Itachi pressed. “Let her be raised as a child of your house. Give her time to learn and grow stronger before you subject her to that. Please.”
The older man sighed. “I should have known. Am I to assume that every time Shisui disagrees with me in council, it’s you arguing through him?”
“He knew my feelings and insisted on speaking for me to prevent the appearance of dissention within the family. He was only acting in his role as my shield, and I take full responsibility for him. But...whichever voice said the words, their meaning remains unchanged. I would not see you destroy her.”
“You have a kind heart, and I fear the pain it will bring you one day.”
There was silence then, and Hinata heard light footsteps recede toward the back of the house. She was puzzled by the entire conversation. Itachi wanted to protect her, but from what? Why did Otou-sama leave me here?
Mikoto gently took her hand and drew her inside. The man—no, the Lord Uchiha, she told herself—was standing at the far side of the room, running a hand over his face.
“Mikoto, if you intend to eavesdrop, please do so more discreetly,” he said sharply.
Where Hinata’s mother would have dropped to the floor and begged her Lord’s forgiveness, the Lady Uchiha only smiled. “Who was it that ordered me to retire as a kunoichi? Surely I am no longer held to such strict standards.”
He shook his head, his gaze sliding down to the child standing half-hidden by his wife’s kimono. “I would hear your thoughts.”
“I wish you would call off the arrangement entirely, but I know the alternative. Hiashi made that clear,” she said, her hand on Hinata tightening slightly. “Indulge Itachi, just this once. He fears what may happen to her, but I fear what will happen to the fool who harms her.”
“My son would never raise his hand against his clansmen for the sake of a Hyuuga,” he spat.
Mikoto released Hinata to lay her fingers on her husband’s chest. “Don’t allow it to come to that. I’ve never seen him so ruled by his emotions, not since the war. He threatened Shisui, he argued with you, he criticized Sasuke! I may not understand my own son, but I can see this much. Anyone who lays a finger on this child will suffer for it.”
Hinata stared up at her. Itachi wasn’t ruled by his emotions. Until he was angry, that is, but even that awful fury had vanished in seconds, and he hadn’t hurt the other boy. Not since the war... What could she mean? There hadn’t been a war since Hinata was a baby. Itachi couldn’t have been old enough to fight, could he? Had he gotten hurt? This was all so confusing! She wanted an explanation, but the words died on her lips when the man looked back at her.
“He knows that this changes nothing, in the end. Whether I do so now, or ten years from now, I will pair her with the man I believe is best suited to attempt a blending of our two kekkei genkai. When that time comes, he cannot interfere,” Fugaku said.
“He won’t, he knows his duty,” Mikoto assured him. “Please let him have this, just for now. Perhaps it will be good for him. Outside, he...he nearly smiled. He touched her almost immediately. He doesn’t even touch Sasuke.”
“So this is what it takes to see our son smile again.” Fugaku closed his eyes for a long moment and walked away. “She is your responsibility, Mikoto. I have no time to waste on this...indulgence.”
Mikoto smiled. “Fugaku-kun,” she called softly, causing him to hesitate in the doorway. “Thank you.”
“Hn.”