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Hinata Hyuga sat in silence.
One of her eyes was sealed shut beneath a fresh white bandage, taped tight to stop any weeping. The other eye stared blankly out the shoji-screened window, tracing the gentle sway of the cherry blossoms outside. She no longer blinked when petals fell against the paper door like soft drumbeats. It was as if the world had become distant—a soundless, colorless sphere beyond reach.
She hadn't spoken in hours.
In the corner, her nurse whispered to a Hyuga matron, but Hinata didn't listen. She heard only her heartbeat—a hollow thump that didn't match the rhythm of anything else around her.
The memory played endlessly in her head: the masked Kumo jounin, the darkness of her room, his hand over her mouth. The sudden pain—sharp, blinding—and then nothing but muffled screams and the sickening crackle of chakra.
She had endured her eye being ripped out, just so her father would be proud of her.
The pain was still there. It wasn't physical anymore—it was something deeper. The eye was gone, but what remained hurt more. Her mind returned again and again to the moment she awoke in her father's arms. She wanted him to say he was proud of her. All she heard was silence.
--
When she woke up, she got to know that Hiashi Hyuga, her father, had dead. And she knew—deep inside, in a place no child should be forced to reach—that it was because of her.
She hadn't cried since the day of his funeral.
There had been so many people. The clan compound was packed with every member of the main and branch families. The elders stood at the front, their faces masks of calm, but Hinata could feel the storm beneath their robes. She'd stood between Hanabi and her mother, her bandaged eye a stark reminder of why the funeral had happened at all.
Whispers never stopped. Not even during the rituals.
"The head is gone."
"He shouldn't have killed the Kumo delegate."
"That girl... she's the reason."
"What will happen to our Hyuga?"
Hinata stood still. Not even Hanabi's hand squeezing hers helped. The caged bird seal—a thing she didn't yet understand fully—hung over everyone's heads like smoke.
But all she could think was this: If she hadn't been taken, if she hadn't cried out—if she'd fought harder—her father would still be alive.
Since then, she stopped smiling.
Her caretakers noted it first. She began refusing sweets. Refused to play. She didn't respond when spoken to unless it was an order. She ate in silence. Slept without crying. Her mother thought it was strength. Some of the elders whispered it was good the girl had grown reserved—it was fitting for a Hyuga.
But it wasn't strength. It was numbness.
Hinata couldn't bring herself to connect with anything. When Hanabi asked to play dolls, Hinata only blinked once and looked away. When her mother brushed her hair, she didn't flinch or respond. She was simply... floating. Watching.
She'd taken to wandering the compound. No one stopped her. The guards gave her space. Maybe out of pity. Maybe out of guilt. In those silent walks, she'd hear fragments of elders dicussion.
"We can't let Hizashi take the control seal."
"What if someone finds out?"
"The girl is the only heir now."
"She's too weak."
Weak.
They all thought that. Even now. Even after all she'd endured. Even though her father died protecting her.
But what if they were right?
She stood one day beneath the plum tree where she used to train. Neji's words echoed.
"It's not strength to win. It's strength to protect."
She curled her fingers.
But I didn't protect anyone, she thought.
That night, Hinata returned to her room alone. She stared at her bandage in the mirror. Slowly, she unwrapped it.
The socket was closed shut by healing jutsu, but the skin was darkened, hollow. Her bangs fell across it easily. She touched the scar. Her breath caught.
She didn't cry.
She looked herself in the eye and whispered, "I'll become strong. So strong that, i would not have to face such helplessness."
That was when the shift began.
Hinata woke earlier than usual. She began shadowing the older clan members. She remembered how Neji moved through the compound like a silent ghost. She noticed how the elders talked but never decided. She saw the split—how the branch family members grew more loyal to Hizashi, how the main family floundered.
One day, she watched Neji sparring.
She stepped into the courtyard.
"Can you train me?" she asked.
Neji turned slowly, surprised. The others stopped. For a long time, he said nothing.
Then he nodded.
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