It seemed strange to think of it like that. Hinata could remember him saying quite a lot to her over the years, great volumes in short sentences and pursed lips and narrowed eyes that could chase her down hallways. He always greeted her respectfully, and always she wished he wouldn’t because she knew he hated it-- but he did it anyway, bowing his head with a gracious "Good morning, Hinata-sama" and something hot and angry in his gaze before he’d turn and walk away. He never ignored her. In fact, he paid more attention to her than anyone else in the clan, but it was all so terribly different from the brief, long ago way things used to be that when it all changed again it felt like she hadn’t heard his voice in forever.
When exactly that happened though, Hinata wasn’t sure. She supposed it could’ve been in the hospital, after the their first chuunin exam, but he hadn’t really said anything then—just stood by the window and watched her with a strange look on his face. It wasn’t for months after that that she could think of a possible instance; he’d thrown himself into his training and hardly spoke to anyone at all, with the odd exception of her father.
Hinata liked to think it was the festival—the first one the village was able to hold, in the wrong season and in the aftermath of that same difficult year. Neji had cornered her in the hall, stating in no uncertain terms that he would be accompanying her, and then looking utterly disgusted when he realized she’d jumped against the wall.
"What do you think I’m going to do to you?" And the question was purely rhetorical. "It’s not something new, Hinata-sama."
And that was true, but the last time Hinata had actually been to a festival with him she’d been /two/. Still, put on the spot she’d agreed like he must’ve known she would, and went out that evening fiddling with the sleeves of her kimono, her heart pounding in her head and her throat tight. She’d been surprised to actually find him there waiting for her. Of course, the first thing he did was point out the fact that taking smaller steps wouldn’t have made her destination any less inevitable, but the second thing he did was step to the side for her--and he closed his eyes when he bowed, as though he’d resigned himself to his fate that evening. And it was briefest thing, what Hinata believed made the difference, but for a second after he’d opened his eyes something seemed a little less…
But he hadn’t really said much then either. It might have been her imagination—and the night might have been cool and clear from the start.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
moonsheen
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2003-08-22 03:30 am (UTC)It seemed strange to think of it like that. Hinata could remember him saying quite a lot to her over the years, great volumes in short sentences and pursed lips and narrowed eyes that could chase her down hallways. He always greeted her respectfully, and always she wished he wouldn’t because she knew he hated it-- but he did it anyway, bowing his head with a gracious "Good morning, Hinata-sama" and something hot and angry in his gaze before he’d turn and walk away. He never ignored her. In fact, he paid more attention to her than anyone else in the clan, but it was all so terribly different from the brief, long ago way things used to be that when it all changed again it felt like she hadn’t heard his voice in forever.
When exactly that happened though, Hinata wasn’t sure. She supposed it could’ve been in the hospital, after the their first chuunin exam, but he hadn’t really said anything then—just stood by the window and watched her with a strange look on his face. It wasn’t for months after that that she could think of a possible instance; he’d thrown himself into his training and hardly spoke to anyone at all, with the odd exception of her father.
Hinata liked to think it was the festival—the first one the village was able to hold, in the wrong season and in the aftermath of that same difficult year. Neji had cornered her in the hall, stating in no uncertain terms that he would be accompanying her, and then looking utterly disgusted when he realized she’d jumped against the wall.
"What do you think I’m going to do to you?" And the question was purely rhetorical. "It’s not something new, Hinata-sama."
And that was true, but the last time Hinata had actually been to a festival with him she’d been /two/. Still, put on the spot she’d agreed like he must’ve known she would, and went out that evening fiddling with the sleeves of her kimono, her heart pounding in her head and her throat tight. She’d been surprised to actually find him there waiting for her. Of course, the first thing he did was point out the fact that taking smaller steps wouldn’t have made her destination any less inevitable, but the second thing he did was step to the side for her--and he closed his eyes when he bowed, as though he’d resigned himself to his fate that evening. And it was briefest thing, what Hinata believed made the difference, but for a second after he’d opened his eyes something seemed a little less…
But he hadn’t really said much then either. It might have been her imagination—and the night might have been cool and clear from the start.
(no subject)
Date: 2003-08-22 09:54 pm (UTC)