She reveled in it.

He was lured by it.

Like her mother once told her, countless stories could be told with the cleverness of the fan. A gentle turn, the brisk snap... all wereways to show your inner thoughts without openly mocking people. The fan itself was an art form- golden phoenixes soared over a bright sunset, peacocks settled in shimmering grass, a black dragon etched over the stars. All were wondrous patterns etched by a master, coming to life through those hardworking, old hands.

He himself had learnt it from his dear mother as well- his mother used to pull it on his father quite regularly, frustratingdear otou-sanon more than just one occasion. But most of time, in her free time, she would play with it. Making it dance over her arms, roll over her fingers in playful manners- making it alive. Many a time, he would sit on a little stool and watch his dark-haired mother play with the fan in her boredom, watch the light reflect from the dark ornament, watch it flutter beneath her dark eyes.No one could compare- none of her "friends" (whom later, Sasuke realized were merely her personal attendents) could come close. They were a shying candle next to her glorious, flame of passion.

Since she was little, she played with fans. Loved the way the light shimmered over the edge of steel placed on the edges of the bamboo shoots- for the fan was as much a weapon as it was an art form. When moved correctly, the image would become alive, breathing, living, and frightening. Yet, one wrong step, and the fan would fall, potentially slicing off her fingers if she wasn't careful.

Wide-eyed and gleaming, he had been fascinated with the way the fan danced, the way as it moved, it made the black-gold dragon seem alive.

Hinata was disgusted with the fact when people see one, they felt they seen it all. What Temari of the Sand wielded was no gentle spirit- it was a dark, black crony, couth and vicious. A killing machine- and nothing else. No heart would stop if it was wielded- except, of coarse, if it were plunged through the chest. Or some other vital organ maybe.

The fan of Temari was very much like the owner- beautiful. An ice flower.The harsh cold beauty that was the kunoichi, the blond hair, the cold smile, was reflected into the black steel, the wintriness, and the brilliance of the sharp edge.

When he had first seen Temari-san's ornament, he had been intrigued. With her sharp nose, and blond hair, she had a nice figure, and was cruel to boot. Her beauty was harsh, cold, and bright- it completely opposed his first thoughts of the art from of fan wielding. Like many art forms, there was cold, and there was warm. No surprise he had payed "some sort of attention"- but, when she became reduced to the screeching fangirl like the rest of her kind (women), he had avoided her as much as possible. Like all the rest.

Hinata's fan was very much like herself. It could be deadly if used in the right away, but the beauty of it was still a gentle, wispy sort of allure. Hard to decipher if you were not experienced in the cold logic of the arts. The bamboo had been carved to a perfection, edged with the highest quality of steel that not even money could buy. A white phoenix fluttered and danced over a silver paper- It was a family heirloom, passed from mother to daughter over the generations.

The Hyuuga fan was a legend- last wielded by the deceased Hinori Hyuuga, past wife of the current head of the Hyuuga clan, it was told only in the memories of the elders. His mother, if Sasuke remembered correctly, had once sighed in awe how Hinori-san put her to shame, much to the incredulity of her young son.

Who could surpass his sweet mother?

It all started when she had finally confessed to her loved one at that time.

The dobe was so dense- in reply, he said he liked her as well... he hadn't understood the joy. And then, said she was his best friend forever... and that they would be friends forever and ever.

Ninjas were momentary things- they were mortal, for all their power. And nothing mortal lives forever.

Obviously, Naruto hadn't understood her meaning of like.

In her tears that night, she forced herself to forget. Forced herself. It had involved a lot of tears, much self-sacrificing, and much pounding in retaliation against the wall.

She really didn't want to go the festival- it was too depressing. But somehow, Hinata managed to appear that day in a silken kimono of the palest white, with lavender Tomoyo blossoms twirling over the white expanse. The Spring Festival had began and most of the Rookie Nine were already there, silently agreeing to congregate outside the gate.

He had, somehow, been dressed into a yukata of dark blue that day, with the cuffs that were black and ordained with deadly silver dragons. They roared, and prowled over the blue silk- on his back, the Uchiha fan proudly, stoically sewn.

It had been his father's, thepastClan Head. And potentially the last one as well.

At first no one noticed her.

But he did.

And when they did... But they didn't, not really. She was not the quiet, ugly little girl they all thought they knew.

So they mistaken her. They thought her as a Hyuuga- a Hyuuga that was anybody but neighborhood Hyuuga Hinata.

He remembered. He had been mistaken for a second as well. She looked... different. Hair let loose, fan fluttering. Her eyes seemed to still be wet with her tears though- she was still the warm dark beauty that he had been watching for these past months.

She looked like his mother.

The dobe actually punched Neji, and laughed. Can you believe it? He laughed- and asked were the Hyuuga hiding so many beauties like her in their large compounds.

Neji definetely hadn't been pleased- what Hanabi off-handedly named "Neji's Kick-Ass Brotherly Mood" had kicked in.

Steathily, Neji-san had sneaked behind Hinata. Without her knowing it of course. And behind her back, he gave a look that promised any man who dared make a move on his younger cousin would consider Hell a respite from what pain he would induce. Personally.

She took their breaths away.

She took his breath away.

Her fan had been shielding her face in an almost sad gaze, white eyes crying wordlessly at the crowd, cute blue bangs covering her forehead. Languid, pale fingers held the bamboo ornament with untold grace.

Truly, she looked rather gentle and fragile next to the bulk of her two, overshadowing teammates, whom both had grown to a respectable size and were more than just fairly dangerous. Both which were eyeing the men that had their eyes fixed on their little "sister".

Damn Kiba and the bug boy just had to join the "guardian" group. Both were worthy ninjas- both would make his life... difficult.

She had been a bit surprised at her teammate's reaction. When she inquired about them tagging behind her like two little school boys, they made vague remarks about having nothing else to do.

Shino had seen his eyes- andhe seemedstand straighter,become more intimidating.The Aburame turned his gaze in his direction- though it was not certain because of the shades, Sasuke had the feeling he was the sole object of that dark stare. He stared back, Sharingan manifested subconsciously.

He didn't like other people denying what he wanted.

It was very annoying being watched by Shino- it was also very annoying not being able to find a time to approach the Hyuuga Heiress without at least one of her three guardians being present. It wasn't something he couldn't get around with (come on, he is the Uchiha genius), but it was an irritation. The kind of irritition when you find sand in your shoes, or find that your favorite kunai just happened to be stolen by the neighborhood dobe.

Of coarse, it wasn't just her looks that intrigued her admirers. They couldn't understand the unknown gestures- how she twisted her fan in flowers over her wrists in the gestures of approval, or how she covered her face in shyness, or even how she made small little snaps with the bamboo sticks in annoyance.

She had been very shy at first, hiding her face- she was still mourning her loss. But as the evening lengthened, she became bolder, wielding tricks her mother had secretly taught. Some, so bold, she was almost frightened to show. But really, she didn't really need to worry- none could read her gestures. Not even Neji.

A smirk twisted his face inconspicuously- wasn't she playful today? His eyes became almost glazed as he watch her wrists and fingers dance, twirling it in gentle patterns, sharp turns, the white phoenix singing its song of peace.

Why he did remained a mystery to her. Hinata had been quite shocked really, when he approached the growing group of males

He had almost laughed at her, right then and there. Grinning to himself (though a smile did escape), he had rose from his seat under the plum blossom trees (Tomoyo trees), and had walked forward. He could feel the heat of the shocked gazes many had twisted his way. Was he, the Avenger, falling haplessly for the new angel that had graced them with her presence?

They had thought him tougher than that.

Eyes widened, before they were cast downwards, bemured. Coyly, she snapped the fan and twirled the Hyuuga heirloom on her long index finger, letting him see glimpses of her aristocratic, finely sculpted features.

The white phoenix danced, untamed.

He had responded in a quite, out of the blue sort of way. Wearing a dark yukata at that moment, he had reached into his sleeve, causing her to lean forward perceptibly, peering at what he had to show her.

The Uchiha fan blew the flame.

She watched, fascinated, as his fingers, moving at a blur, deftly created lovely patterns with his fan- and not just any fan, the Uchiha one. How veryextraordinary.

How skillful, and deftly. It was graceful dance he danced, but somehow, no one, not even she could mistake his... it was hard to put it into words. Even in his performance, he seemed more masculine, more bold, and perhaps a little extra something...

He smirked openly now. Almost lazily, he flicked his black hair over his eye with a slight nod. He wasusing hisbeauty he knew, and he was going on at full tilt. Sasuke ignored the envious glares that were boring into his back- he'll deal with those later. They were unimportant right now.

She couldn't help smiling behind the safety of her shielding, white fan. Responding to his challenge, she danced with him.

We danced the dance of love.

He helped her live- she helped him love.

It started harmlessly- after that festival, he would catch her in the forest, seated in a meadow of green clovers, playing. Though he did not care to "play" as much as she did, he liked her company. Many times, he would sit next to her and watch the light dance over her features, reflected by the shiny, perfectly polished fan.

Like his mother.

They would occasionally make idle chatter, but most of the time, they would sit in silence.

Sweet silence.

Eventually, he did get the courage to wrap his arms around her waist- she giggled in memory. It had been tentative almost, his fingers wrapped around her hips and drawing her toward his chest. She had looked up then, white eyes, seeing the question in his own dark ones.

She hadn't minded, her eyes told him. She didn't mind at all.

Shortly after the incident, she got the courage to give him a goodbye kiss. He smiled in memory. It had been just a short peck on his cheek, but he liked the way how she turned fairly pink after that gesture, before her fan snapped out to hide her face from his bold gaze.

She looked very cute.

He hadn't minded, his eyes told her. He didn't mind at all.

She helped him over his love and hate for his brother- that day when his deed had been complete, his name the Avenger fulfilled, she helped him cry his tears, her soft voice his healing balm.

And when she finally had been kicked out (not by her father) by the clan, whom wanted a stronger heir, it was he who held her close, he who kissed her tears and sorrows away.

"Tadaima."Quite lazily, he chucked his sandals in a mess on the floor.

Her socked feet thumped softly against the wooden floorboards as she exited the kitchen, greeting him in the entrance.

"Ohayo Sasu- ack!"

Hinata giggled as he picked her up and twirled her around. Apparently, Sasuke was in a particularly good mood that day. She didn't notice the imperceptible gesture hemade as he slipped his hands into his back pocket...

Her widened when she felt a cold band of metal on her ring finger- she couldn't help it but glance downwards.

A ring of platinum, with a gold fan etched in its center.

Fingers gripped her chin tenderly, forcing her to look up at his face, which was inching closer, and closer...

"Marry me." His breath tickled her ear, before a soft pressure was exerted on her rosy lips.

'Who am I to say no?' she thought, before wrapping her arms lovingly around his neck.

Yay! The Re-Edited, Beta-ed Version.

Aww... I rather liked it.

There you have, sequel to Hawking... well, it's technically a sequel. The idea is the same, looping a random object to a story, though this oneshot is a standalone. I might make a series out of this idea, taking random objects into love stories...

Read and review! Even if you read this three months after I post this, please review- I just want to hear your comments, and ah- flames? And if I love you enough, I might decide to write more. :)