empathy (rewritten 2019)

日向一族

日向ヒナタ

Sakura was the only full-fledged medic out of the Rookie Nine; it was the only part of her that earned her a place on the team and the pride of the village. For Sasuke, he had the Uchiha Clan honor. For Naruto, he had the Kyuubi's power. And for Hinata Hyuuga, she had the Hyuuga Clan honor. Compared to them, Sakura only had a job resume to prove her worth.

But everyone was thankful. Hinata was thankful. Sakura saved her life, saved her family, and her future. Whenever they were on the battlefield, Sakura was there to help. She was always there.

Until now. Hinata thought about her, four days after the funeral, wondering what could have happened. Tsunade's autopsy found very few injuries on the body: tiny scratches on the side of her left arm, signifying a hard fall; graze marks here and there from several kunai; and Sakura's fatal shot--a simple kunai to the abdomen. TenTen found found her in the forest, bleeding out on the trampled grass and leaves.

One stab was all it took to take her down. Sakura should have fared well from it. Hinata herself knew; Sakura could heal from far worse than that. The wound, though deep, was something she could--should have--lived from. So why, after saving a million lives whether it be in the hospital or on the field, did she not save herself? Out of all the lives she saved, wouldn't her own amount to much more?

Hinata asked herself that when she visited again that fourth day, offering a jar of sakura blossoms. She could remember a million soldiers and civilians whom Sakura helped, so many that their faces blurred together. And she could remember her own face amongst that list.

She stared down at the grave. Why did you do it? She wondered. Why did you help us if you couldn't help yourself? Why did you dedicate your life to saving these people?

And, walking home that day with her child, Himawari, by her side, she realized why.

日向ネジ

Neji himself was aware that all Sakura had to offer to the table (the table of honorable Clans, of kekkei genkais, of unlimited strength) was just the title as a medical nin. And he thought due to her lack of genetical proof, she was weak. He, like all the other shinobi of the Rookie Nine, believed that. And that was why anytime they needed her, it was for her medical expertise, because despite all the times they looked down on her, they knew the moment they spilled blood, they'd need her.

Weak, he thought, when he saw her in class, fawning over Sasuke Uchiha. She'd never get far with a boy, especially him.

Weak, he thought once more, when he saw her on the field, falling and crying for her team to clean up her mess. She'd always need a man to save her.

And weak, he thought again, when Sasuke and Naruto left with their mentors, leaving her behind all alone.

And, due to these occurrences, he decided that she was destined to be weak. Whether it be due to some stupid boy or some loneliness, she'd amount to little, because she lacked the blood to prove him wrong.

Destiny was all he believed in. It was what ruled his life and so he made it rule others. He coined Hinata's destiny, Naruto's destiny, and Sakura's, reciting it within his mind so his own would sound much more pleasant. He was destined to die for a girl he despised--he was miserable with his destiny, so why should others be happy with their own?

But just days after Naruto Uzumaki, who he deemed was destined to lose, beat him to a pulp during the Chunin Exam, he crossed the street, walking home from training, and saw that same small girl practicing with her older friend. But even though Naruto could prove him wrong, he knew that this small, whining, senseless girl could never do the same.

He said, prove me wrong, as he watched her throw her kunai at the target. And he left, crossing the street, letting two years pass.

She appeared, carving craters on the ground with the stomp of her feet, tall and proud and knowing. There she stood, after having defeated an Akatsuki member and combating a poison nobody else could. And he stared up at her, still thinking, prove me wrong.

And she did. He watched, just as he did before as he crossed the street, her save millions, her expel tremors from her fingertips, her catch heroes before death. He watched her, alone yet unafraid, force the enemies to her feet. She damn well proved him wrong, and she, staring down at him, knew it.

And on that battlefield he fulfilled his destiny, dying for one he once despised, and the one time he needed her she was too far gone. But even then, he was happy.