Hinata ~ Strongest of the Weakest and Rising

Fragility

Hi. . .

Umm, this is the second part.

Sorry if you think this story starts out sad, but it starts in the realization period, so it's gonna be rough. . .

Ahh, something I forgot in the first chapter.

Disclaimer: If I owned Naruto I would of given Tenten more screen time. I mean come on, who doesn't love sharp pointy objects.

And finally. . .

Behold.

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The streets were silent except for the small pitter-patter of small feet and giggles that came from the house around the corner. But they weren't important.

Walking down Konoha's darkened streets was a girl who was humming a nearly silent tune due to her small voice.

Looking at the buildings, or rather seeing through them, she saw countless amounts of happy families some flopped together over a large bed or cuddled together on a small one.

Each one of them with smiles on their faces.

The girl sighed and did her best to remember the times that she had done that with her own family.

But those memories were so far and so few.

She had been, and still was, a lonely child as her mother had been taken from her at the age of the young age of 3 and her father had become a cold, cold man.

Don't get her wrong, her father had always been a bit rough around the edges. . .

But when her mother died it seemed his soul had gone with her to the realms of the afterlife.

And in his place left a cruel, unloving husk.

A husk that had no place for the girl  in his cold heart.

If he even had one, that is.

Only a week after her mother's funeral he had began her training.

If that's what it could be called.

Senseless beating was a more practical term.

And if that wasn't enough, he had raised her precious little sister against her. He had taught her precious imouto that she, herself, was weak. . .

. . .worthless. . .

. . .foolish. . .

. . .and. . .

. . .an obstacle. . .

That's right, she was nothing more than a stepping stone for her sister to wipe her feet upon, to step on.

And step on her she did.

In all their spars her sister had taken her down with almost unnatural ease.
She had beat her black and blue with no remorse.

Not a drop.

And then there was her cousin. . .there she didn't know where to start.

He had been kind to her in their childhood. He had been wonderfully kind and gentle with her, cleaning her scrapes, holding her hand, and defending her at every chance he got.

At least that's how he started out.

Then came the death of his father at the hands of Kumo.

At the hands of the clan council.

At the hands of her father.

Though in his mind for the longest time. . .

It had been at the hands of her.