Father's study, like the rest of the Compound, was simple and unadorned. There was a table to the center, made for sitting seiza, a bookcase to the side, scrolls neatly stacked up upon it, and a desk upon which lay brush, ink and paper. If not for the fact that Father occupied it, it could have been any other room in the Compound. No calligraphy or painting adorned the walls, no pictures lay upon the desk, no weapons or trophies decorated the walls. There wasn't even a lamp let alone a light bulb.
If not for the pot of tea, quietly boiling by itself on the low table, heat sustained by a seal, one might wonder if it belonged to a monk or sage unmoved by material wants.
His eyes flicked up when she entered, and then moved back to the papers he was reading.
"A moment," he said simply.
Silently Hinata sat at the low table. Behind her, the door slid closed. Here, her honor guard could not follow. Slowly, the minutes passed. Hinata felt her silver chakra calm, going from torrent to a seeping slumber. The mark on her brow faded, leaving her feeling winded, as if she had trained for hours.
It was a good thing, potentially. In general, she approached Father feeling overawed - too jittery, too full of nerves. While she had no doubt that his quiet command to wait was utterly reasonable - it was also something that had succeeded in making her fall apart before.
Finally, he set his brush aside. He pressed his seal to the document and then rose, leaving the paper behind, letting it dry on the desk.
He walked towards her with unhurried steps, then seated himself before her.
"You look well, Daughter," he said.
"I am much better, Honored Father."
He nodded, satisfied. From a drawer within the table, he retrieved two cups and then poured out a cup of tea for each of them. Hinata tried not to stare. It was a small thing, but Father had - Father had never offered her tea before. She couldn't even recall if he had ever even shown her how to make it. No, that had always been Mother's…
She accepted her cup. Sipped gingerly.
Father did so as well - then put his cup down. It made a small 'clink' as china met wood.
"The Mission Assignment Desk is withholding your pay until you put in your mission report," he said.
Hinata blinked, thrown by the topic.
"Ah," she said, fingers brushing the edge of her cup, taking the opportunity to think. What was Father up to…?
Wait. She - she did know this. Recognized this pattern, no matter how out of place it was.
The tea, the topic - it had confused her because it was an act of courtesy, starting with lesser matters before moving onto the main course. It was as much tradition as it was a message. It took time, moving this slowly, therefore, anyone with whom Father took the time to engage in such niceties was worth that time.
Father was - Father was acknowledging her. He had before, but this made it very nearly official, in a way.
The knowledge was electrifying, amping her already focused attention. Even though she was an adult in the eyes of the Village, soldier and genin both, in the eyes of the Clan she was but a child, an untested, unblooded heiress who had not yet even gone through the Senbon Sparring Ceremony.
To have Father treat her as important, not merely as his heir, but also as an individual, worthy of respect, meant that half the battle was already won.
Still, she couldn't help feel a small, cynical flare of resentment.
This too was a pattern.
She took a deep, calming breath. Hard enough to talk to Father while also trying to guess his mind.
"I will have it finished by tonight," she said carefully.
"Good."
Hinata cast about for anything to say and discovered that other than the topic on her mind, there was very little. Baiko... but no, she could not talk about Baiko here, with so many interested eyes and ears about.
"How are you, H-honored Father?"
He frowned at her stutter. "Busy. The Chuunin Exams seem to have invited… complications." He stopped, gaze assessing her, then continued, serious: "Do you believe you will be ready for your match?"
It should have been a ridiculous question, even discharged, a ninja who had been in her condition would have required months of physiotheraphy, but Hinata answered, without a shred of dishonesty: "Yes. I should be f-fully recovered within a few days."
A nod. "Good. However, do not push yourself too far - given the mission and your injuries, more leeway will be permitted in representing the family."
She didn't ask for clarification.
It would be better for them both if the lines were not too firmly drawn. Though she had not tried to do so yet, had not dared, she was well aware that within her veins there now swam the blood of a true monster.
A monster to fight with another monster.
She nodded soberly.
"I will endeavor to - to do my best."
"As you should."
To cover her nervousness, Hinata poured tea. The time had come to talk about - to talk about - butterflies unwanted, inevitable, fluttered in her stomach despite all her resolve.
Once more, they drank.
Once done, she started: "Father…"
"Yes?"
She breathed deep, then looked up at him. "At the hospital… you were angry."
An understatement. To lose control to the degree that he had, Father could not have been been merely 'angry'.
She hadn't worded it as a question, but without a trace of shame or embarrassment, he answered: "Yes."
"C-can I ask why?"
He looked her over, as if searching for something. "Do you truly wish to know the answer?"
She squared her shoulders, sitting up straighter. "I do, Honored Father."
For a long, drawn out moment he didn't speak, merely looking at her dispassionately. She met his gaze as evenly as she could. Like dropping a boulder in a lake, he said, with gravid certainty, an assessment without bias or favor: "No, you do not."
She nearly slapped the table with the palm of her hand. "Father-!"
"You do not. If you did, you would have already guessed the truth." He seemed to realize something, then paused, re-assessing. His brows beetled, before smoothing out. "You did guess."
She was silent.
"What conclusion have you reached?"
Hinata breathed. There were layers to the question. First had been the event itself. Then Father's reaction to it. Individually, they told only half a story and even combined, there were pieces missing.
This family will try to tear you apart from those closest to you.
"Honored Father," she said, and the observation came to her unbidden, something she had unconsciously realized but never put words to, "you do not trust the Branch Family."
He met her eyes and then gravely inclined his head. It was a startling confession, no matter how obvious the fact may have been. The Head of the Hyuuga was not supposed to admit such a low, even disgraceful concern. Not about the men and women, the family that put their lives, quite literally, in his hands.
It made light of the Branch Family's many sacrifices, Baiko, dead and his eye taken, the most recent. Father had been in a conciliatory, even apologetic mood, then.
Not today.
Today, for all the tea and quiet, it felt like he would go to war at the slightest provocation. Not in anger, no, but rather in cold, measured thoughts.
She knew he could speak without moving his lips. That meant that, at this moment, he did not care who happened to see or what they might 'hear'.
"W-Why not?"
He was silent for a long moment.
It was unlike his earlier silence, where he seemed to be sizing her up, dissecting her. This one seemed weightier, somehow, a silence stemming from within rather than without.
"I did, nine years past."
Nine years…? She would have been-
The metallic flash of a Cloud Headband flitted past her mind's eye and a vague, blurry face, half-covered.
Oh.
She remembered both her anger and horror at Baiko's death and mutilation, then imagined how much angrier Father would have been, to have his three year old daughter kidnapped out of the Clan Compound without anyone the wiser, with nothing more than chance preventing her outright removal from the Village.
And now, conveniently, her plight had once more gone unnoticed.
That the two were connected, Hinata could not help but doubt. Men and women could be patient, but... nine years?
Still, the two events were eerie mirrors.
She had never even thought, never even considered how fantastically unlikely it would have been for a ninja to kidnap a child out of the Hyuuga Compound, nor how unlikely it would have been for the stationed observers to fail during an A-ranked Mission with the Village at stake.
Could Father be right...?
"The Branch House… no longer knows its own mind," he said. Hinata stretched forward to pour more tea, hanging grimly onto Father's words.
"They still serve, but in private speak of a destiny of hatred, of promises broken, of a Main House unworthy of service. I am at fault in this matter. At the heart of every mutiny, of every rebellion is poor leadership. My responses have been... insufficient in quelling discontent."
Another startling admission.
"Father," she began, a dreadful anticipation curdling in her gut, one made all the worse by the conflicted nature of her thoughts, "what are you going to do?"
He put his cup down.
"Nothing." The word should have been a relief. It was not: Father would not be half so fearsome without his ironclad self-control. "There is no proof that your signal flare was seen and then ignored."
"Father, maybe it was an a-accident."
He gave her a mildly reproving look. "Perhaps. A large number of Hyuuga are being commended for going above and beyond in their defense of the perimeter - as are you for pressing inwards."
"It was the wrong decision," she murmured.
His voice was like a sparrow dart, thin, intense and piercing. "Never apologize for excellence. A threat to the Village was eliminated, and your team survived intact. Do better next time, but do so without regret. Your indecision has always been your greatest weakness, aside from your gentle nature."
It was… like Kurenai-sensei's advice to act, but inside out.
"Hold your head high," he told her. "I would hear of the details of your mission."
It was yet another unexpected request. He had never before asked the details of her missions but then, the Branch Family had not ignored a clear call to arms in any of her other missions and motley collection of D-ranks was certainly beneath his notice.
She suspected Kurenai would ask her to go through this process yet again, but Hinata steeled herself and mapping out what she would write on her mission report, began repeating the details of the Mission without exaggerating her achievements, or making light of her errors.
He only interrupted her once, to confirm that she had molded lightning chakra in a poor man's attempt at jyuken before they had entered the Tower. It was a flat, sudden command that mildly derailed her thoughts.
"Demonstrate."
"U-um-"
He cut her off. "Hinata. Demonstrate the technique."
She looked at him, but saw a blankness there that spoke neither of condemnation nor approval in his face, and then began molding her chakra. Her hand began sparking as she released a steady flow of lightning chakra.
Father had activated his byakugan and watched her arm intensely.
"Enough," he said, after about half a minute had elapsed. "You claim to have electrified the breadth of your… wing - try it with a different tenketsu along your arm."
Though her family was capable of opening any tenketsu, a gift of their shared bloodline that non-Hyuugas did not have, Hinata had only truly tried to do so when she had overloaded her own tenketsu in an effort to survive the golden chakra orchid.
She had not consciously chosen to expel chakra through tenketsu along her arm - there hadn't been time for such - couldn't guarantee that she would not overload it here. Focusing carefully, she directed a thin stream of chakra through the chosen tenketsu.
It shredded the sleeve of her shirt - but revealed dancing actinic light beneath.
"You may stop," Father said.
The room darkened as the lightning vanished. Hinata nervously regarded the state of her sleeve: there were reasons why expelling chakra through the entirety of one's tenketsu was not advisable to practice in public. There were special cloths made of woven fibers that conducted chakra like a second skin, but even so, it took practice to expel chakra without damaging one's clothes.
"...Father?" she ventured as the silence began to grow oppressive.
"I thought that at best you had misunderstood your own technique, but it is indeed as you say."
"I-I know that it is not standard-" she began, hesitantly.
"It is not standard because no one else in the clan is capable of it," he told her bluntly.
That was… huh?
"The Six Lesser Noble Tenketsu located in the palm and fingers are the main tenketsu capable of channeling elemental chakra," Father said, surprisingly slowly, stretching out each word as if testing its weight: "Members of the Branch House have been able to channel elemental chakra through the three Virtuous Tenketsu Pillars that underlie the feet, but this is a rare talent."
Hinata furrowed her brow. It was a rote lecture delivered with unnecessary heaviness. And it was clearly wrong: those not of the Hyuuga Clan could expel chakra out of thirty or so tenketsu: the royal nine in each hand, the loyal six in each foot. "But our Clan," she began tentatively, appalled to realize that she was lecturing Father on the very basics of the basics, "the Hyuuga tenketsu are-"
"The Hyuuga blood is more limited than that of other ninja, not less. I myself can only channel elemental chakra through Semui-in." Semui-in, which represented Fearlessness, was the central tenketsu located in the palm, Hinata recalled distractedly. "Many members of the Main House cannot even do so much. It is the genetic cost paid to obtain both the Byakugan and the Jyuken. You will see similar specializations among other bloodlines."
Had that been why he had been against her learning elemental techniques? Why hadn't he simply said…
With a start she realized why. These were essentially clan secrets. Jiraiya had realized that the Hyuuga over-specialized, but not why. One saw their all-seeing eyes and assumed that it was a matter of pride that kept the Hyuuga from investing in more ranged options rather than sticking to the Jyuken. One then saw their skill and thought their pride justified.
But if the Hyuuga could not properly perform high-level elemental ninjutsu then… well, that was a weakness, if one that had been turned into a fearsome reputation. The fact that Hyuuga could use ninjutsu and various elemental techniques merely strengthened the bluff.
A bluff she did not have to make. Hinata was not sure what to think of that.
It was exciting, though. What would a heavenly spin look like if combined with an elemental nature?
"Continue," said Father.
It took her a moment to gather her thoughts. He allowed her that moment.
In the end, after she had finished, he simply said: "You did well."
It was, from him, very high praise.
Hinata doubted it was merited, but nodded her head. "Th-thank you, Father."
He didn't answer her. When the silence began once more to stretch, though not uncomfortably, she gathered her courage with both hands.
There was something she had come here to say. Something she would still say, for there were many that would die for her - had died for her.
"Honored Father, do not - do not punish the Branch House."
He did not insult her by claiming that he would truly do nothing. Officially, it might be true. Unofficially, well, unofficially there were many things the Head of the Hyuuga could do to make life miserable for the Branch Family.
"You are a gentle person," he said instead. "It is a weakness."
Hinata recalled Mother. Recalled Kurenai-sensei. Recalled her teammates, Shino and Kiba both. Naruto who had defended a girl he didn't know. The Hokage who had bowed his head to even her. "P-perhaps."
"You see kindness as a strength."
She raised her eyes defiantly. "Yes."
"The liberation of the mind by benevolence shines forth bright and brilliant," he quoted absently - the Discourse on Kindness, a chanted meditation of the Fire Temple Monks, one she especially appreciated. "You are not wrong: the strength of will and spirit necessary for kindness is extraordinary. It is a prerogative of the strong, a balm among the weak, and when exercised, a most noble virtue."
Odd how when he was agreeing with her that Hinata felt all the bile, all the bitterness, all the ugly resentments and foul grudges bubble up.
Then why can't you be kinder?! she wanted to say, to scream. She did not.
Father's eyes flickered away momentarily. Left and up - Neji had said something, seemingly a lifetime ago, about that very gesture.
"You have yet to understand kindness' cost. Kindness broke the last of the Senju. It lead directly to the massacre of the Uchiha. It…" and here he hesitated, before continuing, voice low, "it took my brother, your uncle."
Tsunade and Neji's father, she understood. The Uchiha Massacre… no, that she did not. That had not been - not been an act of kindness.
Not even leaving the little brother alive. She was an older sibling too.
He must have seen something on her face for he shook his head. "None will admit it now, but the boy that slaughtered his family was kind. I do not know his reasons, but there is no doubt kindness broke him, in the end." He looked at her for a little longer, then said: "Hinata, do you truly wish to be become the next head of the Hyuuga?"
"Yes," she answered, nodding fiercely.
"And what do you hope your kindness will achieve?"
Hinata paused to think.
Father was… Father was probably right. For all her dreams and aspirations, her experience in the Forest had made the burden of leadership dreadfully clear, every choice a potential for death. Good leaders were probably not good people. But if Father had sought to dissuade her from her chosen path, he had chosen the wrong examples.
Lady Tsunade had changed the world as no ninja had before or since.
Itachi Uchiha had done the same, if only to the Village, albeit in a much darker way.
And Uncle had saved Father.
All of them, one way or another, had done the same thing, something she too wished to do. Her eyes glowed silver, and when she spoke, her voice echoed, very slightly, as if a second self had spoken.
"Change."
-----
He heard her out.
It had been more than she had expected - or even deserved. He thankfully did not comment on the content of her aspirations, but she could feel his skepticism. Said aloud her dream lacked… force. In her mind they were perfect. In the somber, practical air of Father's study, they were soft, fragile, almost unreal. Snowflakes in mid-summer.
He said nothing, but his eyes were eloquent.
"Honored Father?" she whispered.
"Strength comes first," he told her. Not a yes, not a no. "Everything you hope and mean to do - without personal power, personal prowess, it is meaningless."
An easy argument to grasp. Self-evident, axiomatic even. For ninja, everything flowed from power.
But wasn't there a contradiction in that? For her dreams to be based upon the violence she wished to erase, the tensions she wished to ease- and her dreams were not so small that she wished them to be based on her.
"I'm - I'm a little stronger-"
Father made a small, non-committal sound. In a less august person, it might have even been referred to as a grunt.
"After the exams end, your grandfather has suggested you prepare for the Senbon Sparring Ritual."
Hinata blinked. Of all the things…
The Senbon Sparring Ritual was a coming of age ceremony: despite the name it involved no senbon. Instead, nine hundred and ninety-nine spars were to be completed on the day of one's thirteenth birthday, followed by a final spar with the current Head. It was proof of one's fitness to remain within the Main House. Proof of maturity, within a Clan that did not consider becoming a genin an accomplishment worth much of anything.
Those of the Main Family that managed the ritual, well: their voice would be heard, their thoughts accorded weight. Though not expected to do so immediately, they could sit in during the secretive clan councils and speak upon matters of import.
It was, indeed, a step forward on the path she wanted to take.
But.
The problem was Hinata had no doubt she could make a better showing than she could before, but with her silver chakra not yet beneath her control, completing all one thousand spars would be a feat harder than defeating Neji. She doubted she could do more than a dozen spars at a time before collapsing.
Not completing the ritual meant you were not worthy.
It went without saying that there were, of course, no unworthy Hyuuga in the Main House.
"That is… I am too young?" she asked, hesitant.
"You are," Father acknowledged. "But you would start training."
Her brows knitted. "How is that… um, how is that different? From what we are doing already?"
He looked away. "I would not oversee your training."
So then…
Oh.
"I see," she said softly.
And she did. If it wasn't with Father, then she would spar with members of the Branch House.
From dawn to dusk.
It might even make Gai-sensei's training look tame. She paused, examining that thought ruefully. No, even Naruto with all his vigor had thrown up and then been dragged away: it might even match Gai-sensei's training.
She could see the logic behind the move.
If the Branch House doubted her strength, then let them test it.
But that meant, not only would she lose her training sessions with Father, she would also lose…
"What about Hanabi?" she whispered.
Father shrugged. It was a strangely magisterial motion. "That one of the children of the Head of the Main House serve in the Branch House has always been a concession. As things stand… it is a concession I am no longer willing to extend."
Hinata… could have said many things. Already she could see how this would inflame tensions between the Main and Branch Families and how she would be caught in the middle. But from Father's perspective, with the Branch House no longer protecting the Main House, there was no reason for him to care about such a tradition.
It would make her own goal that much harder to reach. The Branch House would rail against it as evidence of yet more favoritism, more tyranny, more unfairness. The Senbon Sparring Ceremony would not merely be an opportunity to test her, but, like Cousin Neji had during the preliminaries, an opportunity to strike back at her and through her, the Head of the Hyuuga. The rest of the Main House would decry it as evidence that Father had been the wrong choice, all those years ago, and that neither she nor Hanabi would be suited to be the next Head, and that it should be someone else from the Main Family, one more willing to acknowledge the sacrifice made by the Branch Family.
Father telling her that there would be more leeway in representing the Hyuuga… that might not be so true anymore.
And yet.
Hinata breathed out. A great weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Father had acknowledged her. Then, he had immediately begun to push, to prod, to test - to see where she would crack and prove unworthy.
This, too, was a pattern.
Was it hypocritical of her to care so much about her sister? To consider her special in a way the four year olds of the Branch House were not?
But, if in exchange, her sister was safe...
"Good,"said Hinata.
-----
Well, this update was a doozie to write.
