Naruto Fan Fiction ❯ Of the Sky ❯ Of the Sky ( Chapter 1 )

[ A - All Readers ]

It hurt.

He thought it had hurt when his father died, and later when his uncle had told him the truth of those last days, and those final words. He thought he had known pain when a kunai sliced into his shoulder, nearly severing the tendons. He thought he had known suffering when he watched the woman he loved marry someone who wasn’t him, carrying his child.

But the slow burn, the sweetest torment, was the kind that carried over the years. A distant ache, a feeling of never being whole, was akin to being outside on a snowy night and having never been in, always looking through thw window wondering what a fireside felt like.

Neiji… Neiji knew what that fire felt like. Safe and loving, loved in return, he craved to be close to the fire again. The ache was knowing he was denied it forever. Hinata, despite loving him, had been forced into a marriage with Aburame Shino. Her long-time friend and team mate, and Neiji knew, deep in his heart, that however he might hope and wish Hinata would come to him, in whatever covert manner, that she was wed to Aburame, and would never forsake her husband or vows.

Not even for herself, and for her own happiness.

He remembered those first months; he kept as close as he could, hoping. Watching Hinata grow round with his child, the gentle glow on her face, and the soft joy that lit her features when she felt the baby kick was torture beyond any he‘d experienced. Watching Aburame in the role he wanted for himself was worse. Eventually, he found reasons to not go to the Hyuuga household.

He was not permitted at the birth.

Not that he had really thought he would be. Finally, after several hours of carefully being ignored, he had left the Hyuuga compound entirely, to try and work off his anger and frustration in training. For hours he fought, physical things he stood a chance of against, rather then the incorporeal things he had no hope of defeating.

When Aburame found him at four in the morning, Neiji had successfully defeated six trees, an assortment of logs and stones and some unwary springtime flowers. Kunai, sebanon, even a katana littered the forest floor like so much garbage. Neiji himself had been perched on a log - one of his fallen foes - panting, steam rising of his body in the chill pre-dawn air, forming small clouds in front of his face.

The Aburame slid soundlessly out of the shadows, as he was wont to do. He said nothing, only perched on the log next to Neiji and, still silent, handed him a cup filled with steaming liquid. Equally silent, Neiji took it, and sipped, recognizing the liquid to be rice-water, sweetened with sugar and cinnamon, and with a few unnamed but easily recognizable spices.

Hinata’s brew. Designed with Haruno Sakura specifically for the purpose of reviving exhausted or worn warriors.

“I had hoped,” Neiji muttered quietly, “to work myself into exhaustion.” The sound of his own voice surprised him. He hadn’t meant to say anything; by all rights and reason, he should hate Aburame Shino for possessing that which he had held so dear.

“You might.” Shino agreed, “However, I doubt Hinata” - he ignored Neiji’s wince at the mention of her name - “would forgive me for allowing you to fall asleep in the woods, in early spring, with no coat, covered in sweat. And…” He paused. “I rather thought you’d want to be awake to hear what I have to say.”

Neiji tilted his head back, staring at the coldly distant night sky, half-wishing it weren’t so cloudy.

“Aah.” Was all he could think of.

“Sorano.”

Neiji blinked. Whatever he had been expecting, it wasn’t that.

“A girl.” Shino clarified. “Born at half-past one. Her name is Sorano.”

Of the sky. Neiji’s heart constricted painfully. A girl…

“She is..” Here Aburame stopped, his voice hoarse and choked with emotion, and cleared his throat before continuing. When he spoke, a wealth of admiration and affection was still evident in his voice. “She is beautiful.”

“Like her mother then.” Neiji murmured, so softly he barely heard himself speak, yet Aburame nodded.

“Yes. Exactly like.”

“And.. Hinata?” Neiji asked, loathing every syllable. “How is she?”

He shouldn’t have to ask this dammit! It was his daughter. His! And Hinata should have been his wife. They should have been able to greet their daughter’s entrance into the world together, not to have to hear it from someone the council had deemed acceptable to wed the clan heir in a moment of pity, a silent rush so hurried it left everyone‘s head spinning.

“She is exhausted, but exuberant.” Shino said softly. There was no mistaking the quiet love in his voice, but the knowledge only served to cut Neiji deeper.

“Walk with me.” The statement was just that; a statement. Not a request, but something akin to an order, and for a moment, Neiji felt the ridiculous desire to refuse. However, a thirst for knowledge weighed heavier then his pride, and he stood, and followed Shino in the direction of the village.

For while, they merely walked, the only sound the crunch of dead leaves on the forest floor, of their breathing in the still night. Occasionally something would rustle in the bush, or a bird would call sleepily.

They were nearing the village when Shino finally spoke.

“Hinata is a remarkable woman.” He began. “And is even more so because she doesn’t think so at all.”

Neiji vaguely wondered where he was going with this.

“I waited until she was asleep to come find you. It wasn’t long; the birth was rough, even by Hyuuga standards. However, I’m told that the more powerful the byakugan, the more difficult the birth, so it was expected.”

Neiji made a vague noise. If that was so, then the council had what they wanted, and hopefully would cause him no further trouble.

Shino sighed. “I’m not making sense, I know. I had it all thought out before I came, what I would say to you. I know you love Hinata, and would have been her husband had the council allowed it. As it was Hiashi…”

Neiji already knew. Hiashi had wished for Neiji and Hinata to be joined in marriage, but had also known that it could never be - that the council would never allow it. So when Shino had stepped forward, Hiashi had fought to allow the marriage, rather then watch his daughter wilt under the inattention of an uncaring mate.

Shino paused, took a deep breath.

“I love her.”

The words cut Neiji in ways he hadn’t known he could be cut. The pain sliced through him like white-hot steel, cleaving a hole in his chest he knew would never close. Somewhere in his pain-fogged mind, he knew he should be happy; if Shino loved Hinata, then he would make her happy, would never make her feel inadequate or unwanted, would keep her safe from those who wished her ill….

But dammit, that should have been his job.

“I know that’s not something you want to hear.” Shino said quietly, “but it’s true. I also want you to know that, despite the fact Sorano is not of my blood, she will never be less then my daughter.”

They stopped at the stoop of Neiji’s apartment, and Neiji dimly wondered how Shino knew where he lived.

“I suppose,” He said around the barrier in his throat, forcing the wind from his already deprived lungs, “that’s all I could hope for.”

Shino had left then, pressing on him another small cup, also piping hot, and Neiji had recognized by the scent that it was another of Hinata and Haruno’s brews, the opposite of the rejuvenating one and without further ado, had turned and left, heading back towards the Hyuuga compound, ad his new family.

Downing the liquid, ignoring the way it scalded his tongue and throat, Neiji had stumbled up the stairs and into his apartment, content to pass out on the lumpy old couch in his tiny living room. Only one thought had time to squeeze its way in before Neiji was totally unconscious.

His apartment had never seemed so empty.

That conversation had been a decade ago.

It still hurt.

In the days and weeks that followed that conversation, Neiji had steered clear of the Hyuuga compound, not trusting himself. Any business to be taken care of was done so quickly, and he left immediately after.

He managed to avoid seeing Sorano until she was a little over a year old. As it was, he only glanced her by chance. His business with the eldest Hyuuga had called him to the building in the middle of the day, but the Eldest was not a man to be denied, even if he was a man to be despised.

It was the laughter that had caught his attention. A high-pitched child’s squeal, and a rich baritone compliment. Neiji had glanced -

- only to see a milky-eyed child, straight dark hair flying out behind her, fall happily into Aburame’s outstretched arms, still giggling madly as her father cuddled her, praising her efforts in making it all the way to him this time.

Neiji’s heart clenched in his chest, a cold piece of granite that cut off his very breath, and he hurried away from the dark-haired child and her father.

In the intervening years, Neiji moved upward in the shinobi ranks, quickly attaining his Chuunin and then Jounin levels, and finally reaching that all-important ANBU rank. The missions he took were always the longest, the most difficult or had the highest death rate. The missions no one else would volunteer for, he accepted gladly, hoping that if he were gone long enough, the pain would ease. If he were dead, he wouldn’t have to suffer.

But the fates weren’t that kind, and he always came back alive.

Sorano was as powerful as the council had hoped. Able to activate the byakugan at the tender age of four, she was light years ahead of her younger brothers and sisters. She took to the martial arts much as a duckling took to water, fascinated with kunai and sebanon that her father and mother let her play with, at the ages of five and six mastering throwing techniques that children in the Academy - two and three years her senior - were just learning.

Neiji was grateful that he was not asked to instruct her in the use of the byakugan or of the soft-fist style. Not that he was ever in Konaha long enough for such instructions, but one never knew. Instead, Sorano’s grandfather took over her teachings, and, by all accounts, she took to those as happily and as easily as she had weapons.

Sorano entered the Shinobi Academy when she was seven. Her father and younger brother accompanied her to school her first day, pride shining in the formers eyes, naked envy in the other’s. Neiji had stood in the shadows off to the side, idly watching the comings and goings as he waited for assignments to be posted.

“Do well, Sorano.” Shino said, patting his daughter on the head as he offered her Kaikai bug. His voice was as quiet as usual, but the affection and pride in his voice was not to be denied. Sorano didn’t have the affinity with the insects that her siblings did, but she respected them, and understood that they would protect and monitor her, and would alert Shino if anything was amiss.

Though truthfully, Sorano’s miniature guardian was as much for the father’s peace of mind as it was his daughters. His daughter cooed at her small friend before tucking him under the collar of her blouse, where he could stay warm and unharmed.

Neiji watched all of this impartially, silently ignoring the obstruction in his throat.

“Yeah onee-san, do well!” Her younger brother, Shinoichi, piped up. “Tell us everything you learned when you get home!”

Sorano smiled, and promised she would. Waving, she turned and ran into the school, and Shino and his son left to head back home.

Neiji exhaled, releasing a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“Getting big, isn’t she?”

The voice came from his left and Neiji whirled around, only to come face-to-face with Kakashi-senpai, who was lounging lazily against a tree, also watching the new students.

Neiji released his second nervous breath of the day, and turned milky eyes back on the school house, where one late child was bolting towards the closing doors.

“Yes.”

Together, he and Kakashi silently watched the school house, as it came alive for the day, ready to greet new students as well as returning ones. Equally silently, they turned and left.

And so the years passed.

Neiji barely paused to mark the passing of time anymore, except in terms of missions or not-missions. He was at the Hyuuga compound only when absolutely necessary, and never lingered. The eldest died, and Hiashi became Eldest. Hinata became Head, and it was known that she and her father were working to try and abolish the Marking.

Sorano grew, as all children did. Neiji occasionally saw her, usually in a gaggle of children she called siblings. Each time he was struck by her beauty. Sorano looked much like her mother, somewhat like her brothers and sisters, and not at all like her father, though none commented on it. Her hair was dark and shiny as a raven‘s wing, hanging straight down to her waist. Her skin was pale and smooth, and her eyes pale as fresh cream, containing only a faint jade sheen when seen in the proper light. Her siblings were of he black-and-brown haired variety, all except the youngest bearing the pale byakugan eyes. All had an affinity for kaikai insects, though only two of the four children actually housed them. The main difference Neiji could see between himself and his almost-daughter was the most striking thing about her.

Sorano laughed.

She was a happy child, loved by her parents and siblings, adored by her aunts and cousins and grandparents, content that all was right within her peaceful world. And in a corner of his mind, Neiji was happy. This child would never have to bear the murder of her father, the loss of her mother, the curse of being Marked and Caged by her family. Of being manipulated and used for the family’s ends then discarded as unworthy.

Gods, It hurt...

But in the other corner, Neiji was bitterly jealous. Stuffing such thoughts away as unworthy, Neii left.

Still, Fate would be denied nothing, and apparently, that elusive deity was out for Neiji’s heart blood, served on a platter it seemed.

One bright, sunny morning, Neiji received a request to report to Tsunande-sama’s office at ten a.m. When he arrived, he found himself in the company of several other Jounin, a few ANBU and the occasional senior Chuunin and felt a small lead ball begin to form in his chest.

“What is this about?” He asked Kakashi, who looked bored with the entire affair. Gai-sensei stood off to the side, gesturing frantically, but Neiji ignored his old sensei, in no mood to deal with his over-enthusiasm.

“Academy graduation today.” Kakashi said.

Neiji knew this already. Sorano had graduated with this class, much to the delight and pride of her family. Her siblings, also enrolled in the Academy, were still a year or so behind her, but rising in their own fields as well. If Neiji remembered correctly, the youngest, a girl named Kaede, had an affinity for botany that rivaled Ino’s and the oldest male, Shinoichi, was at par with his sister in weaponry.

That small lead ball became slightly larger.

Tsunande-sama, looking as youthful as ever, entered the room and perched on the edge of her desk. “As you all know,” She bagan, “Academy graduations are today, and a new batch of students are in need of sensei to guide them. You are here because you have been chosen for the job.” She grinned. “A long-term mission, if you will.

“You are the best and the brightest, specialists in many fields. Some of you have been teachers before, some haven’t. Some of you have been teacher’s for years. However, you are the ones chosen to lead our new generation of shinobi, and to bring them up to snuff with Konoha’s standards.”

Tsunande held aloft a stack of neatly stacked and sealed scrolls.

“These are your student assignments. As I call your names, please come forward and receive them.”

One by one, names were called. Tenten, Kakashi, Choiji, himself and Ino were all included in the group of new teachers, and Kureani, Kakashi and Gai-sensei were in the senior teachers. The other two instructors were the Chuunin that Neiji wasn’t very familiar with, having never worked with them, and they appeared nervous as they accepted their assignments.

The group of students was unusually large this year, and there were a round ten groups of three-man cells. Neiji took his scroll, unsealed it, and read it.

And the ball of lead in his chest became boulder-sized, dropped to his stomach and resided there as if it owned the place.

Aburame Sorano.

The instructors all filed out, some silently, some laughing or joking. Neiji remained, rooted in place by an unseen force that stilled his breath in his chest.

“Something the matter, Neiji-san?”

The voice, though soft, was like a landslide in Neiji’s skull, and his head shot up only to come face-to-face with the amused brown eyes of the fifth Hokage.

“Tsunande-sama…” Neiji began, forcing himself to fold the scroll neatly and hold it out to the woman in front of him, deliberately ignoring the face that his hand shook. “I refuse this assignment.”

Tsunande ignored the proffered scroll (and the shaking hand), instead walking back around the edge of her desk and sitting behind it, pouring warm sake from a carafe into two small cups on a tray tucked behind a stack books. Offering him one, she saluted him with hers before tossing it back. Sighing as she lowered the cup, Tsunande leaned back in her chair and rested her head on the padded back as she watched Neiji take a seat in one of the chairs in front of her.

“I know you don’t want it.”

Neiji glanced at her, momentarily startled. She knew? Then why did she…?

“It was a request.” Tsunnde said, answering the question Neiji didn’t have time to form. “Normally, I wouldn’t even consider it - teams are supposed to be balanced you see - but this time, it seemed like a good idea.”

Neiji briefly wondered if the stress of being Hokage had finally gotten to Tsunande-sama, but was saved needing to come up with a response by the Hokage herself.

“What? You don’t even want to know who made such a request?” She looked faintly amused.

Neiji nodded wordlessly, waiting…

“Hinata did.”

Only to have his world drop out from under him.

“Shino backed her up on it.” Tsunande continued, accurately reading the expression on his face. “Surprised? I was too, but they agreed that every child should be allowed the chance to know their father, even if covertly.”

It hurt…

“I know that chance was denied you… Hell, it was taken from you, and as much as I disagree, it wasn’t in my power to stop it. So what I can do is give you this chance, to take or leave as you see fit. The assignment is yours to deny, Neiji, but consider it carefully first.”

And with that he left.

He had no purpose, no destination in mind, but nonetheless, found himself at the back gates of the Hyuuga compound.

Everything came back to this place, he realized dimly. His birth, his life, all centered around this. Every significant thing, his father’s death, his only love, his exoneration and the birth of his daughter, had been directly affected by this forsaken household, sick on its own power.

He hated it.

Entering, he paced the corridors until he came upon the center compound, where Hinata knelt, hands buried in the soil. She turned as he approached, eyes going wide as she paled.

“Hinata.” He knew not what else to say except… “Why?”

Shino emerged from the door behind him, stepping silently onto the porch, closing the door quietly behind him.

“We felt it best.” He said simply.

Neiji whirled on him. “Best?” He repeated. “Best? You slice me open, every day for a decade and then some, and now you think it best to pour salt in the wound?”

“E-every child should know their father.” Hinata said in her slow, halting way, her voice quiet and nervous-sounding. “You were d-denied that right, but we hoped you would want to know her, if e-even under the guise o-of ‘sensei.’”

Neiji had no words.

“We d-didn’t know what else to do!” Hinata burst out suddenly, her voice gaining strength through her frustration. “You locked yourself away from everything and everyone for so long. You were always gone on missions, only here when absolutely necessary and we didn’t know how else to let you k-know her.”

“How long has Tsunande known?” Neiji asked quietly. It was all he could think to say.

“Since the beginning.” Shino replied.

“Aah.” Neiji released a shuddering breath. “And you asked her for this?”

“We did.” Shino replied. “Hinata and I both.”

“Aah.” Was Neiji’s only response. His heart beat an almost painful rhythm in his chest, the blood it sent pumping through is veins laced with razors.

Finally he spoke.

“Thank you.”

And with that he left.

A bare day later, he found himself face-to-face with three sets of eyes. Onyx, turquoise and cream all stared at him, and he at them.

What the hell was he supposed to do with three twelve-year-olds?

“You’re my uncle!”

Neiji turned his face towards the owner of the voice. “Something like that.” He agreed.

“I’ve seen you around the compound. Mother speaks very highly of you.” Sorano continued, eyes rolling skyward as she tried to recall exactly what her mother had said. Something about unsurpassed skill…

“Jeez Sorano, you’re such a show-off!” The owner of the turquoise eyes burst out, a girl named Maiko. The young boy, Kanaye, merely rolled his eyes at the two girls antics.

“Enough!” cut in Neiji. “Form this moment on, you are shinobi. Your next breath may very well depend on the person standing next to you, so you need to start acting like a team.”

Suddenly, he knew very well what to do with three twelve-year-olds.

And, strangely, it didn’t hurt as much.