青い骨の美 - The Beauty of Blue Bones

Chapter 1

Autumn
Friday—2AM

The hate that bubbled in her gut as she lurched forward and clutched her stomach to at least find some sort of balance in her moment of weakness made her feel sick. A hate so vicious that it began to claw at her throat and made her eyes water, begging for her to give up and let it consume her as bile pushed past her lips and slipped into the toilet bowl. It spread from the tip of her fingers, coiled around her heart, and trickled down into the souls of her feet—a hate that was directed at nobody but herself.

It was rather comical, she thought as she allowed her knees to buck and gravity to finally push her down to the floor, she had not hated herself so much before. Not since she was a child no older than the entrance age of the academy. At that age, she had seen death, and had known what it tasted like. It was rather naive of her to believe that she would never have those cold fingers wrap around her neck again, but another death had happened not long after that. And again some years later.

Hinata closed her eyes and leaned her head against the cool tiles of her bathroom wall. Sweat caked her sickly pale skin, soaked into the collar of her nightwear, and made her feel sticky. She had worked herself to the bone a few minutes prior; fighting with herself both mentally and physically as a way to distract herself from the sun that would soon be rising to signify the start of another day.

It was the weekend as far as she was concerned, everyone would be home and enjoying their day except her. Nothing was stopping her really, she had long since grown past the age wherein she had to listen to anyone else's rules, but she had no wish of leaving the confines of her room to confront the outside world. Not yet. Not when there was an ever present danger that seemed to surround her and follow her like a plague.

She stood up on shaky legs, flushed the toilet, and was sure to splash some cold water onto her face before flipping the bathroom's light switch off as she entered her dark bedroom. To others, she appeared somewhat unorthodox compared to her usual attire—that, and she was training in the middle of her room as a storm raged outside. Nothing was really stopping her from going down to the dojo within the clan's walls, nothing ever has, nothing except her own crippling hatred that gnawed at her skin and whispered in her ears that someone would be watching and talking.

So, she settled on training within the confines of her room, outside the prying eyes of her clansmen, all while keeping her chakra as suppressed as possible. She has not activated her byakūgan, nor used her clan's techniques since that day. It would serve as an ever growing reminder that she was inept and unfit to use an ability only the best of the best was blessed with. She was far from the best.

Pulling her sweat filled shirt over her head, shivering slightly as the heater turned on and blew cool air into the room before turning warm, she stood there in her naked glory. She stretched her arms above her head and bent backwards until her hands touched the floor. With light, hesitant steps, she threw the rest of her weight over her head into a handstand. She relished in the slight stretching of her muscles and the cracking of her bones as she spread her legs apart into a split. Her arms began to shake the longer she maneuvered her legs in the air, her lips were caught in between her teeth as she focused on the buzz in her ears that was completely welcomed as it replaced the loud waves of self-hatred that began to form a tsunami in her head.

The snapping of a door closing made her lose her focus for a split second. Cursing under her breath—another unorthodox habit of the current Hinata—she tucked her chin and legs to her body as she fell down in a small mess of limbs. She stopped breathing as the footsteps approached her end of the winding hallways, her eyes narrowed at her door, waiting for the knock to come.

"Is everything alright, Hinata?" The sound of her younger sister's voice made her sigh as she let out a breathy, quiet chuckle.

"Yes, sorry, you scared me while I was getting back to bed. I just tripped on something." She lied as she stood up. Grabbing the pack of wet wipes on her vanity, she began cleaning her face and torso of any building sweat. The only downside to training in secret, and so late at night, was that she could not take a shower unless she wanted to make herself suspicious. The last thing Hinata ever wanted to do was to have anyone question her choices as of late.