Naruto 1. Chapter 1

-o-o-o-o

Tears no longer trailed down her cold cheeks; they were long washed away by iron and rust and hate. The air was thick with something more substantial than a light breeze or even the wildness of a tempest as it hung above throats menacingly like a knife or poison to be swallowed. There was the scent of blood it carried, but the stenches of shock and despair and hopelessness were overwhelmingly suffocating. She fought her collapsing lungs in order to stay conscious though she thought she was drowning with every drawn breath. Tears were not needed. Hope was not needed. Breathing, she feared, was soon to become completely obsolete as well.

It was the end, it was all over.

That was all she could think. There was no light at the end of the tunnel nor was there any true thought of what came afterwards. There wouldn't be anything afterwards, everything was simply finished like a closed book shoved into a faraway bookshelf never to be opened again. It wasn't like watching the sun set one evening and knowing that it would rise the next morning with the same beauty, warmth, and brightness as it always did. Now, she, born under the name of the sun and light, could no longer find what she could always find, what she was known to always find even in the darkest times.

But that was when her own sun was still there shining its golden rays in gentle caresses and smiles and laughter.

Her eyes, usually so bright, only shone a dull grey that she couldn't see nor did she care to see. She only saw the remnants of what her sun was, those empty vessels that used to carry her heart and reason for being.

Kiba, broken. Shino, gone. Kurenai and her child, dashed under the debris.

Ino, missing. Shikamaru, drowning in his own blood. Choji, soundlessly staring at the sky with big glazed eyes.

Ten-Ten, still and bloodless. Rock Lee, body twisted and burned. Sakura, covered in a red far more vivid than her clothes.

Kakashi, waxy eyes leaking fluids. Gai, lined with scars and scorches. Tsunade and loyal Shizune, both prostate and skewered by various weapons.

Neji-nii-san, impaled and reaching heights she knew she would actually be able to follow soon for once. He lay eagle-spread and the bodies of his cousin and uncle were mere yards away from his limply outstretched fingers.

And Naruto, that golden ball of hope and happiness and her _light_ – he wasn't there. Nothing remained of him that reminded her of his smiles and his determination. All that she saw was a few strands of blonde hair blowing away on the lonely winds even though the atmosphere around her felt like all the air had been sucked away and stagnated. There was nothing left of her Naruto-kun, everyone's beloved Naruto-kun. His sparkling blue eyes were gone. His whiskered face was gone. His husky, childish voice was gone. His optimistic, if not hopelessly so, smile was long gone and not even those pearly white teeth remained.

The thing that now stood in his place was just a husk of burnt flesh and torn skin, ashes and flakes of what had been, and even his chakra element was forsaking him and blowing what was left into the horizon to dance with the leaves and dust. Trails of dried blood marked where Naruto had once stood, but she couldn't look at the browning crimson without fearing that her heart would come apart completely. A bitter laugh almost erupted from her dry and overused throat, but she couldn't remember what it was like to use it for actions other than screaming in desperation and sobbing in grief.

She, the weakest and most unimportant of all of them, was the last one standing. One of her legs was shattered and her arms felt like they were strained to the extremes, but she was still the last of the Rookie 9, the last of Konoha's famed possessors of the will of Fire. Ironically, though she had always disliked herself and could barely face herself without feeling intense shame, there was a sense of bitter, twisted pride and sense of self left in that hollowing vessel she called her body as she wearily looked up at Madara's stoic face. There was no one she loved to judge her and see her weakness, no one but someone who should've been, by all rights, as dead as her loved ones. The pressure she had anointed upon herself had disappeared and evaporated like rain on a summer day by her desperation, and there was no reason not to stand and sacrifice what was left of her for even just one last strike. Even if she were the final flame burning, she refused to let the fire die without a fight, weak and one-sided the battle would be. It was inevitable that she would be defeated, true, but she was already losing count of the scant number of breaths her lungs could take and any other hope had fled along with her sun's essence.

Most of her fingers had already snapped and her chakra levels were now only just sustaining her consciousness. Her hair was ruthlessly shorn away from her scalp and an icy wisp of wind licked at her bare neck while raising the fine hairs there. She knew that this would be her only, last-ditch effort and it would hasten her to her death; it was why she ignored the stabbing pain in her leg that told her of irreparable damage as she sprinted on it and pumped her life force into the chakra coating her broken fingers.

"Eight Trigrams, Sixty Four Palms," she whispered hoarsely, feeling her life drain away bit by bit as strength forced itself from her body and into her outstretched hands.

Charging fiercely and feeling almost no pain, she readied her hands into position and activated her Byakugan while ignoring the sound of crunching bones underneath her feet. With a gasp of determination, she jumped and aimed for Madara's heart with a wild jab.

She didn't know how, but her fingers managed to lightly hit his flesh as he spun away, weaving hand signs for what she presumed to be his Susanoo. He stumbled a bit before he blew a fireball at her instead, singeing the remainder of her hair when she dodged haphazardly.

Luck seemed to be on her side as recklessness flooded her entire body, allowing her to excel in her body's movements as never before. She didn't care that her leg probably wouldn't be able to walk again after the battle or the fact that someone had been wounded by two hits from the Hyuuga's Eight Trigrams technique. And she found herself not caring that she was going to die, most likely in a very painful manner.

"Four," she grunted as she managed to land another two attacks on Madara, who seemed to be rather surprised that she of all people was still up. He attempted to kick her side and knock her away, but technique alone was not enough.

His taijutsu was superior but fortune was not his ally as a hand from below snaked from beneath a pile of corpses and grabbed weakly at his ankle, causing the legendary Uchiha to lose balance for a moment. She had the moment to thrust another four fierce brushes at her opponent, who was beginning to stumble from his blocked chakra points.

"Eight," she counted dutifully, her hands swollen and purple as they artfully flew across Madara's torso like a pianist at his instrument. "Sixteen."

He lazily blocked at the attack as if he thought himself too powerful to even contemplate seriously fighting a mouse like herself but stumbled back when her gentle fists took advantage of his miscalculation. Though he still remained aloof and unconcerned by her advances, she felt her determination to at least leave a more noticeable mark on this man grow as she landed thirty-two blows.

He only smirked when he was swept back by the blast of chakra emitted from her hands, falling onto his knees with a complacent expression.

"I can't die, you foolish little girl," he told her comfortably. "And yet I can see that you are."

She ignored his first verbal acknowledgements of her with another thirty-two consecutive blows.

"Sixty-four!"

His chakra points blinked before disappearing from her Byakugan eyes, showing that she had reached one of her goals though she knew it was only because of sheer luck and his conceit that he hadn't really tried to defend himself from her.

He stumbled to the ground gracefully, his long hair flowing behind him like a majestic mane. His eyes were black and endless pools of emptiness, but she felt anger that he hadn't even activated his bloodline limit during their little skirmish.

"Within moments, I'll be free again to destroy you," he said nonchalantly, taking in the miserable picture she made. "There is no hurry, child."

Her hair was long and stringy in some places while they were mere dark bristles in others. Her skin, usually porcelain and pale, was decorated with an assortment of yellow and violet bruises, scarlet lines and gashes. Her eyes were still activated, veins bunching at her temples ferociously and straining desperately. Throat parched and stinging with cries, her breaths came harshly and loudly in the silent battlefield. She glared at him with as much fury as she could muster, which admittedly wasn't much. Her life was leaving her body faster than she could generate any emotion other than relief that she would be free soon.

"I pity you."

Both of them blinked in surprise as they realized that their words were shared in that short moment.

Madara simply laughed. "Yes, you seem more entertaining alive. Perhaps, I shall spare you instead?"

He already began to get up from his spot on the bloody ground, his limbs slightly stiff but mobile. Her Eight Trigrams had already lost their effects on this monster of a shinobi much to her dismay, but she was ready to join all who she loved with any blow he would exert upon her.

"Gentle Step: Twin Lion Fists!" she cried, knowing that she was thoroughly eliminating any chance of her survival. Even if Madara decided to spare her somehow by not attacking, her own life-force was being drained with this attack and she would probably die before she released its strength upon him. Knowing this, her Byakugan blinked away from lack of chakra and she dashed towards him blindly, arms ablaze with fiery blue sparks.

She couldn't really see anything beyond his faint outline – her eyes were blurred and nearly completely emptied of light – but she felt the activation of his Sharingan reverberate with the ground. His chakra weighed upon her torn ligaments and joints but his power was not as heavy as the losses she had sustained so she felt herself slowly grow lighter and fainter, as if her spirit was attempting to leave the body in which it inhabited. Though she didn't have her bloodline limit activated, she could sense his power heightening until it was completely concentrated on his accursed eyes and then she knew that he was about to summon his Susanoo or the eternal black flames of Amaterasu.

Closing both her weary eyes and her distance between them, she plunged both fists towards Madara's heart and prepared herself to fall into numbness forevermore.

_Neji-nii-san… Naruto-kun…_

And then there was pressure seeping into one point of her back, as if something was prodding at her skin inquisitively. Seconds later, she felt the same feeling erupt on the other side of her torso, where her vulnerable belly was located. She heard the smooth slide of metal and the squish of human innards contracting and relaxing as they were exposed to the exterior world; her dry mouth heaved with stricken relief as it flooded with a warm wetness that trickled loosely from her parted lips. Her nose inhaled the familiar scent of liquid iron and she found herself stunned as she slowly looked down towards her stomach.

"W-w-what?" she choked, splattering another dozen droplets to the ground with her unsteady breaths.

To her surprise, Madara himself seemed just as shocked when he peered down to see red tinted silver connecting both of their abdomens like a solid chain link. He moved his hand to his own back and seemed to find the tip of the blade protruding from where his spine would've been, mouth agape and Sharingan eyes wide as they took in the person standing before him.

"You…" he said hoarsely. "This is the sword of Totsuka."

Her neck ached but she pivoted her head towards the presence behind her, the one who had so ruthlessly impaled Madara using her as a buffer. She wasn't sure who she was expecting or even if she had expected a person at all, but the man there was someone who she'd never really gave much of a thought.

Empty but unsettling Sharingan eyes peered back at her, the red and black kaleidoscopes swirling hypnotically as they surveyed her with clinical complacence. His face was bland in expression, classically handsome in structure, and haunted in countenance. His pale, unscarred hand was steady as it held the blade she and Madara were pierced by and it didn't tremble once as he slowly pushed it further into human flesh until the sword was all but gone to the hilt.

She felt the swiftly warming metal shift around her insides but couldn't feel the pain thankfully, while Madara made a disgusted face as the sword noticeably disappeared into his torso.

"You will be sealed," Uchiha Sasuke said plainly to his progenitor. He mechanically twisted the handle, calmly observing the shaking that was increasing within the girl he'd just stabbed. It was obvious that she'd gone into shock already.

Madara, contrary to expectations, merely shrugged. "I've died before and I've finished destroying the Leaf. What am I to be afraid of, Sasuke? However, I do believe that this little girl here was a completely unwarranted casualty. The last of the village he'd sworn to protect, what would your big brother say about this?"

Without a verbal reply, Sasuke simply unsheathed the sword from his victims with a single swipe, letting the bodies fall to the ground in heaps.

It was brutally silent, not even the sound of the carrion eating crows or other scavenging vermin broke through the forced tranquility. She was still breathing, harshly swallowing the bloodied air, but it felt like she was underwater, cold trails of liquid strangling her neck and blocking her senses mercilessly. She couldn't make out most of the blurred images twitching across her impaired vision, but she recognized the apathetic drawl and low timbre of her killer. But she knew now that it was Sasuke, Naruto's and Sakura's sun, who had finished and snuffed out the last bit of fire she let burn within herself.

She lay on her side staring silently at the last Uchiha through layers of shorn hair and nearly blinded eyes, watching his own bloodline limit look at her dismissively. All she could see was burning red.

She was nothing to him, not of any importance even if his beloved brother would've fanned her will of fire by saving her. He wouldn't have acknowledged her in any way at all. She was the last remainder of his home village, of his best friend Naruto, of his loyal lover Sakura, of even his exalted brother Itachi's dream. And yet, he didn't care.

"It's no matter," Madara said when he noticed his descendant's unmoved face. "She'll be put into a new and better world than the one I just ended."

The younger Uchiha did not remove his offside glance towards the fallen girl. "But you will be sealed in hell, Madara."

Darkness fell and blackness finally eclipsed the light.


	2. Chapter 2

-o-o-o-o-o-o

When she opened her eyes, the sun was burning brightly and the spikes of gold were piercing her sensitive bloodline limit, causing throbs to surface near her temples. She wanted to drink in the light because she missed it so much but it hurt too much to keep looking at it. Her body ached with a familiar strain, like she'd overused it in one of those training sessions she frequently participated in against Neji – she quickly turned away from the thought when the image of glazed pearl eyes weeping blood stared back into hers. When she closed her eyes again, she found her senses allowing other stimuli to bombard her weary conscious; she felt fine silk encasing her skin, the scent of lavender tickling her nose, the cool autumn breeze brushing past her soft hair. There was a cold, hard floor below her that reminded her of where she'd fallen onto bruised knees, defeated, by her cousin's or father's hands in the dojo she trained in as a child. Behind her was the sound of crinkling, leaves being crushed by elegantly walking feet. Birds sang light, almost imperceptible, melodies in the distance as if they were muffled by the bars of a cage. It felt like home.

"Hinata-sama."

Weakly, she lifted her head from her supine position, shaking spare strands of dark hair away from her face with the movement. She allowed her eyes to focus briefly on the person who had called her name, jaw loosening in shock when she saw the familiarly silvery eyes of a Hyuuga. Her tongue felt heavier in her slightly agape mouth than the lead training-weights she had worn before the battle, her throat parched yet missing the tinge of iron she had remembered it had retained. It was difficult not to release the tears that finally found reason to escape from her own eyes.

"Hinata-sama. Get up."

That cold voice rang through the tranquil peace of stagnant air and she blinked wonderingly at the speaker who filled her empty, cracked heart with warmth and relief.

"N-Neji-nii-san?" she asked, ignoring the protests of her joints as she jumped upwards in the hopes of seeing that it was no dream at all, that everyone was still alive and well.

"What?" He stared at her impersonally, not even helping her as she lost her balance due to muscle strain. The same perfect porcelain skin, dark brown hair and piercing silver eyes; he was just as she remembered.

Overcome with emotion, she ran blindly into his body to enfold him in an embrace. She longed to feel his soft chuckles and reassuring pats on the back, a gentle smile or two. He was alive and not a mangled hunk of flesh lying broken on the ground, he hadn't been taken from her forever. He was before her and in her arms and everything would be okay –

The floor crushed into her nose, the familiar scent of paper screens, bamboo, and sweat flooding through.

"Don't touch me."

She looked up at him in shock, flinching when she was met with a malicious glare in return. His face was upturned, the brand on his forehead symbolizing his enslavement uncovered and slightly red as if the skin was still swelling and fresh. It wasn't quite a scowl decorating his expression, but it was enough to discourage her from attempting to hug him again. She wanted to ask why he was like this, why his mark seemed to be irritated and glowing that vindictive green, why his voice was so smooth and lacking a deeper timbre she remembered in his speech when he comforted her just hours before. Neji, her beloved big brother Neji, was not like this cold, sullen boy who looked at her in disgust and utter hatred… anymore.

And then it hit her like a bolt of painful lightning as she struggled back onto her bare feet.

She was the same height as her cousin and when she reached up habitually to brush her long hair back to its place behind her shoulder, she realized that there was no long thread of black hanging where it had been before. A light breeze behind her bare neck told her that her hair had reverted to its old bob-cut, and Neji did not have his long brown curtain of hair tied loosely behind him as she remembered of him. His hands were relatively unscarred and dainty like a lady's. His large silver eyes had none of the warmth they had mere hours ago and they were narrowed like icy senbon needles about to strike.

This was the Hyuuga Neji she had both loved and feared, the one whose wings were newly broken and who did not dare to venture from the cage he was forced into. He was not the Neji-nii-san she had forged a friendship with nor the Neji-nii-san who always brewed jasmine tea when she returned from a difficult mission despite his strange inability to prepare the beverage properly. This Neji was not the one who would willingly die for her. He was not a stranger, but he was someone she had tried very hard to forgive and forget in the very depths of her heart, the very organ he had nearly fatally disrupted when he tried to kill her during their first Chuunin exam. This was the Hyuuga Neji at five years of age, freshly imprinted with the seal of the caged bird.

And she was Hyuuga Hinata with three years of joy and one year of newly implanted suffering under her possession. She was the girl who caused her uncle, Neji's father, to die and the one who unknowingly crippled her mother with her birth. She was the failure, the unwanted, and the regret of the Hyuuga clan.

This was the physical body of her of the past, not the Hyuuga Hinata she knew herself to be.

Her hands shook as they clenched with this revelation, her long fringe covering her tightly closed eyes. Horrifying as it was, she was no longer where she had made her true home. There was no smiling Neji waiting for her here and she knew that the Naruto who hugged her so tightly before he went up against Madara was not here either. Her teammates, her teachers, her _friends_ – they were not truly here to welcome her. She was not with them, she was not dead.

Her fingers trembled as they habitually formed the seal for genjutsu release – it had to be one, for Madara's and Sasuke's illusion inducing eyes had struck her multiple times as she lay helplessly on the ground. They'd sent her to _hell _instead of doing the slightly merciful thing and letting her go to paradise bathed in her own tears and blood.

"KAI!" she whispered harshly, disrupting her chakra to dispel the hallucination as she had been taught so many years ago. Her Byakugan was strong enough to see through most illusions and having a renowned genjutsu master such as her own Kurenai-sensei only added to her imperviousness to such tricks, but the Sharingan, especially those belonging to masters of the craft like Madara, were difficult to thoroughly evade without having to go through more traditional methods of release. "KAI!"

A thick vibration of chakra backlashed within her, causing her to fall onto her knees again.

The pain was real.

"What are you doing?" Neji asked derisively, staring at her fragile white hands still in the release formation. He'd never seen her form any hand seals before and he did not know this one; five year old Neji would start the Academy in a few months and his only repertoire of jutsu consisted of what he secretly observed from his father.

She gasped when she activated the Byakugan and saw that her chakra coils were contracting furiously, clutching at something to dispel or break through, but there was nothing there save her own spheres of energy. There was no genjutsu and whatever she saw was real. She remembered every detail of this very place, this very training session she'd spent with her cousin, and her own bitter hopelessness as she found herself bruised on the floor - it felt like every blurred memory of her painful childhood was suddenly reawakening and clearing as if what happened to her was merely a hellish daydream. This was indeed the past, more than ten years behind her and nearly forgotten and wiped away with tears and sweat. Her breaths came faster and faster, rushing through her lungs rapidly as if she were drowning. Her fingers clutched at her clothes, the cold floor, anything to restrain themselves from tearing out her shorn hair or reaching for a Neji that no longer was truly hers. From the corner of her eye, she saw her young cousin step back in discomfort as he watched her fight hyperventilation helplessly. Her heart thrummed intermittently and each pulsation brought a new strain of intense pain, causing her to blink away some mist and attempt to refocus her concentration on something else. She allowed herself to look at him completely, to further engrave this nightmare into her mind to ensure that it wasn't just an immaculately cast jutsu of some sort. She knew him well enough to know his every minuscule movement; his eyes shone a slight tint of worry although he still attempted to stay emotionless and suddenly she felt his conflict, his change in demeanor into something warmer and more familiar, anchor her to her remaining strands of sanity.

Though she was still panicked, years of being a well-trained and diligent kunoichi hadn't completely escaped her mental capacity. She forced herself to concentrate on her breaths, drawing them out and then inhaling just as deeply. The trembling of her hands slowly eroded away into a disciplined tension and her tears disappeared into oblivion, her sense of rationality washing over like a wave smoothing across a rippled beach. Reminding herself that she had seen hell already, a future of death and despair, she knew that this was nothing compared to what she had experienced those dreadful moments. Here, at least she knew the ones she loved were breathing and relatively well. And then, she logically concluded while ignoring the pang of loss stinging her chest, if this was really the past she was reliving, then she was well within certain lengths to prevent the end with her own bloody and scarred hands even if it was the last thing she would ever do and at any price.

Taking a final deep breath to compose herself, Hinata contemplated how she would be able to protect the home she had made in the future. Composure floated throughout her blood vessels and her blood cooled and slowed, her fluttering butterfly heart throbbing into a steadier and gentler beat. She attempted to remain in this rational train of thought, anchoring herself to the lone notion of being able to make a difference. She began with the most obvious flaws in her slowly forming plans, unknowingly narrowing her eyes in cold calculation. In her four year old body, she knew she was beyond weak and more likely a liability than anything else and the world almost darkened again with hopelessness. Would she fail to even keep sane just moments in this, fail her sun because she was utterly weak and useless? Flashes of Madara and Naruto's burned body steeled her as she forced herself to recall the images. These haunting memories lapped at her tender heart like acid, rooting her more firmly to her resolution. No, she had advantages over what she had been the first time she was four. She worked inordinately hard to become strong in the years to come and she now had the chance to exponentially increase that and use that strength to protect her loved ones as they protected her the first time around. The exacerbated heart condition that plagued her teenage years due to her Chuunin exam mishaps did not exist yet, meaning her body was surely more capable of exertion and speed. She hadn't developed her chakra levels as much as she had in the future, but her control over it was still intact as it was more of a mental faculty than a physical one. Her body was weak and lacking muscle, but she knew now how to discipline herself properly and her aim was superior to what it had been. Reflexes were similarly gone, but she knew how to hone them back.

Feeling a confidence she'd never really had before and greatly satisfied with her logic, she got off her now extremely bruised knees and brushed away any dust coating her black training suit with unshaking fingers.

"A-are you well, Hinata-sama?"

She looked at her unsettled cousin, a sunny smile on her face as she answered. "Never better, Neji-nii-san!"

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

She knew that when the sun rose, she'd have to attend the Academy for the first time. Or rather, her second time experiencing her first day – it really was a strange feeling to live her life twice with two different mindsets. She was both aching to see her beloved friends and comrades when they were still capable of laughter and smiles but she was also terrified to see how they weren't really hers anymore. They wouldn't have made those bonds with her since she hadn't met, fought by or against, shared conversation and meals with them yet. Naruto was still a distant star she couldn't hope to even look in the eye and Neji was the older brother she couldn't even wave at cheerily as he passed by. And she remembered that her killer would be there as well disguised as the popular class genius and top student. Her throat constricted as she thought of those black eyes, those empty swirls of darkness and the bloody monster they were hiding. She could almost feel smooth metal sliding through her back and belly again, the helplessness she felt as she stared at the cold hearted murderer.

Shaking her head, she reminded herself that he hadn't been like that originally. Uchiha Sasuke had been happy once, she knew it because she remembered his innocent, boyish grin before his family was taken. His uninhibited laughter, like any other boy his age, rang loudly and freely across the classroom, the halls, and the playground. He hadn't even managed to activate his bloodline limit yet unlike she had with her own inborn Byakugan. He was once pure and happy and human. Like herself, he had changed because life had forced him to adapt in order to survive. She had to make herself forgive him and to treat him as if he were still a fellow ninja of Konoha – a comrade to treasure. But every time she remembered the Sharingan spinning hypnotically at her as she lay dying by his feet and bloodied blade, she felt cold sweat pool in her every pore and a fierce trembling attack her limbs. She would have to make sure she avoided him at any cost; recalling her past interactions – or lack of – it wouldn't be too difficult of a feat, especially as she doubted he even knew her name when he killed her that day.

Her legs were no longer sore after her exercises, jumping from tree to tree in the starlit night. Brutal months of secretly regaining the strength of her prime were evident when she sprinted and vaulted over the Hyuuga compound wall without losing a single breath, stealthily making her way to the inner chambers of the Main Branch house where her old bedroom was located. It was difficult to reconsolidate her kunoichi skills from her seventeen year old self, but it was considerably easier to build up strength with her experience and her knowledge from the future than it had been the first time she tried to climb over these obstacles. She still hadn't completely obtained her old aptitude, as it was difficult to train efficiently by herself and her childish body had its own physical limits, but it was enough for one of her age. Perhaps she had already reached depths beyond the hailed geniuses of her class, she mused.

Padding silently into her room, she prepared for her morning accordingly. The same baggy tan coat she wore during her first time around lay on her bed, a fishnet mesh shirt folded neatly beside it. The ensemble was familiar and comforting, like greeting an old friend again.

She smiled as she took off her training gi before something dark on her skin caught her eye; right where she remembered the sword piercing through her flesh that day, there was a small collection of black marks that looked suspiciously like the tomoe of a crimson Sharingan painted on her ivory skin. The ochre inkiness of it as it glistened in the moonlight made it stand out against her snowy white belly and she knew that daylight would only increase the contrasts. It wouldn't come off no matter how hard she scrubbed and scratched at it, utterly disgusted at being marked by this hideous symbol of evil, and she had even tried to cut it off with a kunai in her utter desperation but it had remained unmarked and unflawed as if taunting her. Mere emotional revulsion and more painful methods of removing this taint did not affect it at all, she was forced to conclude.

Her cold fingers gently traced it, feeling for some abnormality that made it separate from her skin but came up empty. It felt like the rest of her flesh. It had become a part of her. And she would never forget how she was killed when she was seventeen, how her world was ended so terribly – this blemish would never let her live in her peace as long as she saw and remembered her first life. For that, she was both thankful and dismayed by its existence permanently etched into her flesh and soul. She wouldn't take this curse for granted nor would she forget her purpose, her mission. It was a dichotomy she was forced to accept even as the mark was embalmed in her bitterness every time her eyes happened to glance at it.

"Hinata-sama, you are to be escorted to the Academy this morning by Ko-san. He is waiting for your arrival at the front gate."

"Yes, thank you," she replied quietly to the voice at the door, knowing that it was still strange for her attendants to hear her speaking without her characteristic stutter.

Her clothes fit her easily as if they had been waiting for her and she grabbed her comb to gather her dark hair into a ponytail above her head, making sure that the silken threads wouldn't inhibit her eyes as they had back when she was originally at this age. She knew how to use them properly now and she wouldn't make the same mistakes again.

She strode through the hall gracefully, sliding her paper screen doors closed with practiced ease and approaching the tea-room where her father and sister and cousin were waiting. A long, low table of the finest mahogany lay across diligently cared for tatami mats, a teapot simmering softly with its matching cups emulating the wisps of steam like eager children watching their mother. Three pairs of identical eyes only watched under veils of disinterest as she knelt down into the traditional seiza like she'd been doing it for decades and began to serve the tea to each of them.

"Hinata, you should cut that hair of yours short," her father said as he looked at her dismissively mere minutes later, a careless glance shot at her from behind his steaming cup of morning tea. "It will become a boon when you are in battle as you are too weak to keep it from becoming one."

She smiled at him politely as he said those words, remembering the first time she had heard this exact conversation. Originally, she had bitten back tears of hurt, thinking that he really did believe her to be useless and too weak to even keep herself safe because of long hair, but now she knew that the trailing strands of dark hair made her seem too much like her deceased mother, whose looks she had already inherited much of. She recalled his sad glances at a photo of her mother while she hid behind a door and realized that she really did resemble the woman she barely remembered; physical appearance was also not her only inheritance, she later learned. Her soft voice and heart, the reluctance to adhere to the universal shinobi code, the gentle smiles and love for flowers were all things her mother was as well. It was rubbing salt into a still fresh wound, she knew now, to even share that very obvious trait and her father was not yet ready to accept his wife's death. He would undoubtedly in the future and additionally give her tacit permission to wear her own tresses like her mother's. And though long hair was a liability for the weak, Hinata knew that she was now strong enough this time around to keep it flowing down her shoulders just as her father, uncle, and cousin had.

Of course, he didn't know that she had been secretly training at night and between one-on-one sessions she had with him or the fact that she had more than a decade's worth of knowledge and memories waiting to be recalled at the tips of her fingers. So, she forgave him for his bitter words and simply sipped her tea with her characteristic quietness. He frowned in distaste at her mild reaction, somewhat irritated that she hadn't heeded his advice at all and concluded that she was too weak to accept the truth until it was beaten into her and too late to do otherwise.

"I'll be leaving now. Thank you for the tea," she announced softly, bowing before slipping on her shoes and readjusting her bag.

Neji glared at her with his silvery eyes, disdain still marking his every feature. It hurt Hinata that she might not be able to recover their old relationship, especially as much of it was based on his training her in the past that she no longer needed, but she was willing to sacrifice that love in order to prevent his premature death. His future counterpart had still helped her; much of her current knowledge of the Hyuuga techniques and his signature moves were now part of her arsenal. He wouldn't remember the memories and affection they managed to earn together and it would stab at her heart to see his obliviousness, but, she reminded herself, she still loved him enough for the both of them anyway. She was thoroughly willing to pay any price on her behalf in order for him to receive his rightful share of happiness in this world.

"Ko-san, let's go," she told her faithful attendant, who blinked with surprise, when she arrived at the gate. This wasn't the Hinata he had escorted times in the past, but he was glad she had finally outgrown her timidity if not her reticence.

He fondly smiled while she led him to the Academy, strides purposeful and her head held up high as if preparing to step into a fearsome battle.


	3. Chapter 3

-o-o-o-o-o-

It was a few weeks later that she even had to make contact with Uchiha Sasuke. From the get-go, she had kept herself small and unnoticed from the main group of classmates, including the Rookie Nine who had once been her closest companions and Naruto, her sun. She made herself into the wallflower she had been even though she was innately completely different now. It was almost like a lulling game of one-sided hide and seek really, before she grew too complacent with her luck and the tides changed, as they always do for those who let their guards down. Frighteningly easy to avoid him before, it seemed that her destiny was tightly interconnected with his even if the threads of fate were spindly and thin. The only times she had to encounter him just had to be the most pivotal ones and she uncharacteristically cursed her fortune when her instructor told them to spar in front of the class as a demonstration for the upcoming graded exercises following.

"I'll go easy on you if you want," little Sasuke offered with a boyish smirk.

She answered his statement with a polite and obviously forced smile, tying her hair back into a high ponytail to keep it out of her eyes. This hadn't happened in her timeline and she hadn't tried to do anything to change it thus far, but she supposed that the ripple effect was just now proven. "If you like," she replied magnanimously.

They both bowed to each other, Sasuke's more of a nod than anything, and respectively slipped a kunai from their weapon pouches into their hands. Black eyes met white and soon the battle began.

She let him make the first move as she wanted to survey his level in order to match hers just enough for her to remain unscathed. His stances and forms were all beautifully displayed, showing that his talent wasn't just a hoax, and he nearly made her drop her weapon twice as he charged towards her with a speed that was highly uncommon for a five year old. But she wasn't four, she was seventeen, and her experience far exceeded his in the end. She noticed that he relied on his left hand far more than his right although he could still be categorized as ambidextrous and his legs sometimes put in too much of a kick that let him lose his balance slightly each time he tried to swipe at her with them. Even without the Byakugan, she could sense that his chakra coils were fairly well developed for his age and wisps of formidable energy leaked from his body especially at the moments he swiped at her more fiercely. He seemed to prefer strategizing a lot, unlike Naruto who simply charged in, and she couldn't help but admire that aspect of him even when she saw glimpses of the deadly Sharingan user she had died by within this little shinobi fledgling.

Sending a shower of shuriken at her, Sasuke quickly dodged her answering kunai and kicked towards her ribs again. He was blocked by a small white fist and he reciprocated with a parry of one of her own punches. She danced away from him with an elegant back step, her body positioned in a defensive stance. Aiming for her solar plexus this time, he darted to her quickly and managed to distract her with a kunai before he lightly tapped her side instead because she had adroitly sidestepped him. There was a predictable side kick she gave that he blocked with an arm and they retreated to opposite sides of their battleground to find a moment to catch their breaths. To an outsider, they seemed to be equals matching each other blow by blow, but Sasuke found himself more frustrated as he felt that she was merely playing with him, evaluating his skill instead of more straightforwardly attacking him. Her eyes only bore into his like shimmering opals and he couldn't help but feel distracted and reminded of Itachi's own countenance when he sparred with him. There was a tension in her limbs that looked a lot like restraint and her face was perfectly composed – too calm for his liking. This girl felt oddly like his older brother and it only fuelled his eagerness to defeat her.

Minutes had passed and Hinata noticed the instructor's widening eyes. The class was also riveted by their little match, which she admitted was counterproductive to her goals of inconspicuousness. This was not a simple demonstration for an elementary class; it was nearly a spar meant for ranked shinobi. She decided to end it quickly with a feinted trip, letting one of Sasuke's kicks hit her leg hard enough to make her fall reflexively from the shock. She faked a gasp of surprise as she fell onto her hands and let her classmates sing praises for Sasuke's "epic" victory.

Wide onyx eyes took in the girl on her knees. He couldn't believe that such a half-assed kick like his had just felled her. He hadn't even finished coming up with a proper strategy to defeat her thoroughly and it was evident that her skill level made it impossible for something so stupid to make her lose their spar, he thought disappointedly. So, how did this happen? He was frustrated with this line of thought but was equally curious about this girl he'd never really noticed before during class. Someone of her talent was definitively worthy enough of his attention and respect, so it was strange that he, someone who prided himself in his observation skills, had missed this particular potential rival, especially one that resembled his brother so much.

Walking up to her, he offered his hand to help her up from the ground. "Are you okay?"

She stared up at him from below, eyes wide and opaque with some unknown emotion. Her gaze shifted to his hand, as if seeing something else, before she shook her head and took off her hair tie, long skeins of black hair sliding across her shoulders with each movement. "Yes, I am." Elegantly, she picked herself up before eyeing his still offered hand. Hesitantly as if knowing that everyone was watching them and that he was still waiting for her to acknowledge him, she shook his hand gingerly before dropping it.

"I'm Uchiha Sasuke," he said proudly, his smile crinkling his eyes slightly. It made him look like someone completely different than the killer she'd met more than a decade in the future. She almost forgot that he was capable of such heinous deeds. "That was a great spar."

"… Hyuuga Hinata," she replied, turning her eyes downcast so that she didn't have to see the last thing that was imprinted into her brain forever when she was alive in her past life.

She turned away after giving another false smile to him, making herself scarce for the next few weeks to make herself drop from his radar. After the little demonstration she had found herself forced to participate in with the Uchiha, she discovered that she remained just as unpopular with the girls as she had been the first time around though it was tinted with more animosity than the ambivalent glances she had once earned from her peers. They scoffed at her and looked at her disdainfully as she happened to pass them in the hallways, their mutters consisting of how she had captured Sasuke's attention so despicably. On the other hand, boys had never really paid much attention to her, so she was relieved to be safe from their eyes especially since she worked hard to hide any kind of attractive features she might've had with her dull wallflower exterior. She avoided displaying her true skill levels in class, only openly excelling in written tests and theoretical assignments because her final scores would be secrets from everyone except for the Hokage and his advisors, and kept quiet whenever the teachers would ask for a student to answer a question. Weeks and months passed in this way as she suppressed as much of her true self as she could in order to keep her timeline as she remembered it, but she soon found that measurements of time faded into nothingness when there was nothing but monotony left in her life, no friends or family to interact with besides watching them from afar.

There were only a few times that she would feel the inordinate pressures of hiding and efficiently preparing a plan to somehow salvage her future, but on those few occasions she would hazard a glance at her beloved Naruto-kun, who was the bright, cheerful little urchin he had been when he was five. He wasn't her Naruto anymore, the one who had saved her by sacrificing himself, but the ache and joy in her heart when she saw his familiar sunny blond hair and sky blue eyes glittering with mischief was genuine. A sad, watery smile sometimes formed on her face without her consent when she glanced at him from what she deemed a safe distance, wishing fervently that _her_ Naruto would come for her and that this was all a stupid nightmare. But as fond as she was of his child self, she was sure that if she did recreate that bond between the two of them, he would throw himself in front of her again and take away the death and pain that had been aimed at her originally, making her current sufferings and plans completely obsolete. And she couldn't stand the thought of his dying for her again, her heart wouldn't be able to take seeing him reduced to a mere empty vessel of flesh as he had been when she was still his. It didn't matter, like with Neji, if she couldn't restore their past relationship as long as he lived happily in the end. Repeating this as a mantra, she forced herself to be content with the distance between them; if she had lived that before, she could do it again, no matter how much anguish she felt when she saw him wandering around alone and being cruelly mocked by villagers and classmates alike. He would remain the heroic savior of Konoha, but without her as his doom; she willed it with all the remnants of her soul.

But just as she let the empty moments of her new life consume her into loneliness, fate threw another obstacle in her path. She'd thought Sasuke had forgotten all about her until one seemingly innocuous day, when the Academy had closed early because of a fierce thunderstorm. Students were to wait for their parents or guardians to retrieve them, but she knew that her own father wouldn't have come himself. Ko-san, her usual guardian and escort, was on a mission in some far off land and Neji had gone home by himself an hour earlier. She was absolutely certain that she could weather the storm herself, as she had endured much worse than some petty thunder and rain, but her instructor was watching her carefully because she was a treasured member of the exalted Hyuuga clan – a princess, especially as she was the heiress of such a prestigious heritage – and she couldn't slip away from his hawk-like watch.

Wondering if perhaps she should risk making a clone and then disguising it as her father, Hinata was about to excuse herself to the restroom in order to enact her plan when her shoulder was tapped from behind. Curious as to who would have business with her, she was rather shocked to see Sasuke himself looking awkwardly past her ear.

"My brother's here to pick me up," he began. "If your parents can't come, do you want to walk with us? We'll drop you off at your compound."

She was about to reject his offer, seeing as she could barely look him in his Sharingan-less eye even when he was a relatively harmless child, but then she spotted the elder Uchiha brother with one umbrella open and held above his head with another closed in his other hand looking at her expectantly. He smiled at her warmly and though she had horrid past encounters with the Uchiha clan, she almost felt herself walk towards him just to see that kind smile again, a foreign expression to her now that she found herself living in self-induced isolation. On top of that strange feeling, she was eager to return to her home in order to secretly train a bit more and staying at the empty Academy wasn't going to help with her cause at all, even if it allowed her to spend less time with Uchiha. Scanning around for her ever watchful teacher, she instead met a head of spiky yellow.

"Naruto-san is still here," she said hesitantly. "Can we walk him back, too? I wouldn't want him to be stranded here while it's dangerous outside."

His face twisted up in displeasure, though he attempted to fight it visibly. It was almost amusing to see his eyebrows try to relax and his mouth unbend from its downturned frown. "Yeah, that's okay, I guess."

She gave him a smile that was a lot more genuine than any of the other grimaces he might've caught from her before and when she turned around to walk towards Naruto to invite him, she missed the tinge of pink and small pleased expression on Sasuke's face. Instead, Naruto's broad grin made her day completely and it eclipsed any strange feelings she would've gotten from watching the Uchiha smile at her. It felt like the sun was bright and shining that afternoon instead of the rainy, tempestuous affair outside. She almost felt like she was at home again.

Sharing umbrellas was fairly awkward; it was evident that Sasuke could only share with his brother even though he didn't seem averse to sharing with Hinata and it would be a cold day in hell when he allowed Naruto under his umbrella. He didn't want to expose his beloved brother to the blond idiot either, and letting Itachi have Hinata would mean that he'd be the one with Naruto. In the end, after much scowling and calculation, he didn't achieve his original objective of spending time getting to know the only ninja who had come close to his standards other than his fellow clan members and Sasuke walked for the remainder of the time with a sullen scowl next to his elder brother, who silently chuckled in amusement as he noticed Sasuke's predicament.

Ahead of them under Sasuke's favorite red umbrella was Naruto and Hinata, who both exchanged shy smiles and easy conversation as if they'd known each other for years. She was smiling but beneath the joyful expression was a more profound emotion that consisted of too many broken fragments to truly be happy. She'd never really spoken to the young Academy aged Naruto, as she had been terribly shy and apt to fainting spells at that moment in time whenever she encountered him, but he was almost too much like the man Naruto had grown up into, the one she fell into real love with during her original time. Her heart beat quickly as she remembered the same smiles her Naruto had given her, the warmth occasionally brushing against her shoulders while they used to walk side by side as she was doing now with his child counterpart. These memories were infinitely idyllic and reliving them just then was like painfully swallowing the sweetest of poisons.

Naruto, excited that he finally seemed to have made a friend, sloshed around sloppily in the rainwater on the ground, muddy flecks flying into the air and behind him. A few of those droplets managed to hit the white shorts of the boy behind him and suddenly the air was charged with a competitive energy that had nothing to do with the streaks of white lightning scraping across the heavens.

"You idiot!" Sasuke cried, running out of the dry sphere of his umbrella in preference of shoving the blond a bit.

"What, you're afraid of a bit of dirt?" Naruto cackled as he saw his least liked classmate covered in muddy splatters. "What a girl – no offense, Hinata-chan!"

The red umbrella left the air above Hinata's head soon after these words were tossed out, leaving her to taste the sweet droplets of rain flowing down her hair and into her mouth. Naruto laughed as he managed to dodge a kick from Sasuke by vaulting off the red umbrella for momentum, ignoring the fact that he too was rapidly getting soaked by the storm by not using the umbrella by its proper functions.

Hinata could only stare at the two, dancing amongst puddles like the innocent children they were, and her eyes glistened with nostalgic tears when she remembered how she was once like them and how it could all end if she didn't figure out something immediately. They were the reason she had to stop Madara from destroying their future, she knew, but it was too difficult to even begin when all her mind wanted to do was return to better times when she had them all by her side, selfish as it was. Her head was slowly getting heavier, but it wasn't merely because of the pouring rain being absorbed by her hair.

Suddenly, the pelting drops of water halted and the sound of them hitting a barrier made her look up and see the top of a white umbrella above her head. Tilting her face, she saw that the elder Uchiha brother had shifted so that she was now under his shelter instead of standing bereft of Naruto's. He smiled at her again and she noticed that he too had been staring at his younger brother and the blond trickster as they gallivanted across mud. His eyes, dark and kind as they had seemed, suddenly looked older than he could possibly be especially when he looked directly at his brother.

"I am Uchiha Itachi, Sasuke's older brother," he introduced himself to her finally.

"Hyuuga Hinata," she replied simply without averting her gaze from Naruto, who had landed in a large puddle rather loudly. "His classmate."

He nodded absentmindedly though a smirk of some sort was making its way on his aristocratic face.

"Why do you look so sad?" he asked her, shifting his eyes to hers.

She looked up into his dark, penetrating gaze unflinchingly. "Because I'm remembering. And I'm hoping."

Their faces were different, one masculine and dark while the other was feminine and pale, but there was something more hidden that was exchanged between the two of them. Their wizened eyes, too old for their young bodies, shared something in that moment, like a camaraderie or kinship. They both didn't belong in this world and they knew it and now they knew it about each other. The world wasn't as dark and hopeless as it was moments before for the both of them with this new discovery, but even as they swallowed down their own secrets and bitterness they knew that it was impossible for them to share their burdens with each other.

Hinata knew that the boy she had just exchanged such sentiments with was really him, the slayer of the Uchiha clan. She'd wanted to ask him why he had done such a deed, but her lips were suddenly glued shut by memories of drying blood sliding between them. He was ten years of age but he felt and spoke like someone decades older. His power lay not only in his aptitude for weaponry or chakra control but also in his tranquil charisma and willingness to endure. His eyes, physically composed of the poisonous tissue of the Sharingan, were not monstrous and fogged like those of Uchiha Madara and his younger brother Sasuke in the future. He was like her in that he had seen much and will see clearly. He was like her, an entity swept along with the ruthlessness of time and fortune, destined to do great and terrible things, yes, but she now understood what lay beneath the superficial blood and hate and death. Uchiha Itachi was like her in that they were both willing to remember and hope and do what needed to be done.


End file.
