The clock ticked.
In the silence of Hinata's hospital room, empty now, except for her, the noise was shatteringly loud. The broken windows had been boarded up, and the lights turned off, leaving the room half-shrouded in shadow. Something tickled her palm, she looked down: a single kikaichu crawled up her thumb: she smiled at it, weakly, before tucking it away in her hair.
Next to her bed, the broken mirror shone weakly with jagged, reflected light.
She moved to push it face down, then stopped, hand trembling.
Do not deny the truth you see before you because it is undesirable.
"I know," she murmured.
A half dozen fractured Hinata's mouthed along with her, the light on their brows evidence of her… she didn't know what it was. Injury? Mutation? Poisoning?
She turned away.
She had heard that in other countries, bloodlines were revered. And in others, abhorred to the point of death. Not so in the Leaf. In the Leaf, you were something not quite monster, and not quite man. And now, now she was not quite a Hyuuga.
She was forced to clamp a hand around her wrist, which badly wanted to shake.
Cousin Neji might get his wish after all: Father had never bothered to hide his disdain for his eldest daughter. An excuse such as this – and it was arguable if it even was an excuse, there were rules, passed down since time immemorial, as to who was worthy to inherit – would be more than enough to disown her.
Frustrating. She had – she had power now.
But so did many others. That did not make them worthy of inheriting the Clan.
And this pittance of power would hardly be impressive enough to overturn the traditions of two score and more generations. And worst of all-
'-remain the same person. You do not wish to fight, merely impress.'
-it was a power shackled to her.
Before she could think it through, she brought her hand up in the modified snake seal, veins bulging across her face and around her eyes.
"Byakugan!"
Her vision expanded, taking in the length and breadth of the Konoha General Hospital for just an instant, leaving her half-formed impressions – pigeons roosting on the roof, an orderly tripping over a poorly placed extension, an ANBU operative absently petting a dog, a young boy with a breathing mask over his face – before they narrowed in on the room, then narrowed further, focusing on the single shining figure within it.
If she could blink, she would have. She was definitely not suffering from chakra exhaustion.
If anything, she had too much.
The chakra at her hara, her navel, where chakra was molded and formed, was astonishingly solid, a bar of pure light where there was usually a mere suggestion of lavender energy. She'd only seen such vigorously developed chakra coils before in senior ninja… and Naruto.
She saw her coils pulse and quickly moved on from that thought.
She followed the flow of her chakra from her hara up the governing meridian to the branching meridians in her skull, then down to those in her limbs. Besides the obvious strength of the chakra pathways, it was, in all respects a normal, healthy, well-developed chakra system. Even the strange stone upon her brow seemed to be composed purely of organic matter and normal chakra.
Had her… she wasn't sure what to call it - second chakra seemed so childish and insubstantial a name – integrated with her existing chakra network? She could see the faintest traceries of silver, but strangely enough, it existed outside of her chakra network, residing instead within her musco-skeletal system. She looked closer: magnifying her vision, watching as the traceries became a string and then a rope and then a road, flowing from cell to cell, permeating each to such an extent it became hard to tell whether it was something foreign to her cells, or being produced by them.
She wished, briefly, that she had fought harder to learn the skills of a medic-nin, even if it was not seen as a proper occupation for an heiress to the Main House. She'd at least know enough to know whether or not to be concerned.
She focused closer on the stone, looking closer, looking deeper, there seemed to be something there, something that looked like –
She blinked.
Neji stood in front of her, bruises purpling the arm not covered in bandages, one finger swollen to almost twice its usual size. She nearly stumbled – she was standing again. Around her, the glare of the stadium-grade lights shone down from the ceiling. Around her was the arena, the Sound observation area devastated, the grounds cracked and broken in places, evidence of sudden, too violent motions.
"You are in the range of my divination."
"What?" she said.
She was struck twice.
Her eyes widened.
Four times.
A dull ache had begun to throb where Neji had hit her.
Eight times.
Pain, minor, annoying, fatally disruptive, erupted like noxious blisters over the surface of her skin.
Sixteen -
Her fist slammed into the side of his face, but not nearly deep enough and by now every move she made tingled with phantom pins and needles. He jumped backwards, spitting a glob of bloody saliva, his expression full of crimson teeth.
"Is this how the Heiress of the Main House fights?"
Hinata didn't answer. She could barely squeeze close her fist it was trembling so badly.
Even so, she was faring better than her cousin. How had she not noticed it before? Blood was dripping down his bandaged arm and now that she was looking for it, it was clear the bones in both his arms had been cracked, one badly enough he had been forced to reinforce his muscles with chakra and use them as a makeshift cast.
With aching slowness, her fists relaxed into open palms. Licking her lip, she swept a shaky leg backwards, raised one hand palm forwards, and kept the other one low, at her waist.
Her cousin breathed deep, flaring his nostrils.
They both kicked off the ground, hurtling towards each other.
He struck first.
It was a masterful blow, aimed at the base of her neck, seeking to end the fight. It succeeded.
It was here her conscious memories of the fight between them stopped.
Her body, however, had not.
Even as he struck, her palm lashed out, argent chakra crackling around the outline of her hand, nearly too bright to look at, before slamming into her cousin's upraised arm. It deformed, the chakra hastily sent to reinforce the bandages he'd wrapped around his forearm doing little to protect flesh or bone.
He slammed into the ground and rolled to a limp, messy stop, injured arm hanging low.
In response, she merely stood there, neither attacking nor retreating.
He attacked again.
She matched him. She could see with every step, every blow, every motion, her every spar with her father, and her every night spent training, body flowing with the power of pure muscle memory, no will or intent required.
Gai-sensei might have been a superlative taijutsu master, but there was none better at the art of the gentle fist than her father.
Her form was perfect, and her actions, if without passion, then also without fault.
The strongest taijutsu style that existed within the Leaf.
The strongest and, in many ways, the cruelest.
The Hyuuga excelled at defense. Even without the kaiten to defend herself with, Hinata knew, objectively, that only a handful of genins exceeded her in this area. To fight Neji, whose injuries had grown increasingly numerous and increasingly severe as their bout went on, while he had but a single arm, and not attack was like letting him dash his remaining hand to pieces against the walls of a mountain. Every blow he delivered she returned, not bothering to hit his tenketsu with the jyuken, merely slapping his arms away with enough force to tear them from his body.
The ideal Hyuuga. The ideal heiress.
When his second arm fell limply to his side, his breaths coming in in short, sharp rasps, it seemed less like the culmination of a long, arduous bout, and more like the last moments before an execution. Still, just as the fight had never gone out of her eyes, they had not gone out of his.
Neji said something, words vague, distorted.
…are perfect.
She saw her own expression split into a grimace of pain, then anger. She saw, for the first time, her body begin to gather chakra.
"No!" she wanted to say, to shout, but this was a memory.
Her body flowed forwards, movements full of deadly, liquid grace. Low, beneath his awkward defense. Her palm went up.
It was a movement aimed for his chin, but missed him entirely, the chakra released through her palm so thick and concentrated it flew through the air instead of dissipating, slamming into the ceiling blowing through the lights, raining glass shards and sparks all over the ground.
Neji, caught in the periphery of the attack, was blown away, hitting the ground in a roll which didn't so much stop as shatter against the wall, burying him in it.
His arms twitched, once, then twice, but he did not get up.
Slowly, she watched herself fall, upraised arm banging against the ground as she finally finished falling.
The fight was over.
/End Chapter One