Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto or Hinata.
Sometimes it helped to remain quiet; you didn't get weird looks, dumb stares or, what Hinata hated more than anything, the attention.
Attention was bad for someone as shy as her; she would feel the heat rise to her face, blushing and stuttering as she turned away - this was regular, usual, unquestioned.
On the other hand, Naruto craved for attention; with a loud voice only matched by the color of orange he wore, and aspirations much more than 'a better ninja'
This was why she loved him -
The attention she shied from was easily taken when the elders spoke ill of the 'monster', rather than talk of her ineptitude as a heiress. In comparison, she was fine enough... but she could only shine so bright under his light.
Still, Hinata was subjected to the ominous glances, the stares and almost stalker like behavior of people she was conditioned to think were superior.
Keep your back straight, hold your head high, watch your posture, you're not trying hard enough - she was the Hyuuga after all...
Except their words and supervision only made her wilt in front of them, to retract and keep the guard up that made her so shy in the first place; she could only wallow in their pointers, and start to doubt her own stregth
Sakura Haruno was the head of the hospital in Konoha, and a top-notch medical nin in battle - she was Naruto's crush and nothing that Hinata could live up to.
Ino Yamanaka has lived to be the co-commander, only under Ibiki, of the Interrogation & Torture department; it spoke lengths that her only rival seemed to be Sakura.
That wasn't to say Tenten wasn't amazing in her own right, she had more experience in battle and understood any weapon to grace her hand; it wasn't that the two girls didn't see her as a rival, they just understood she had already outclassed them.
The only thing that could be said about her was that she was good at tracking people down and that was impossibly easy when you could see chakra signals from miles away.
So she keeps quiet when critiqued, silent when spoken to, and withdrawn behind her mask.
It is a pregnant pause that's never followed, an awkward tension thick enough to cut with a kunai...
But her silence, spoke a lot more than her words.
This and a story I'm working on called "Mute scream" was thought of in the same night, if you saw the similarities in the titles
The two stories aren't related, so don't worry.
Apologies if anyone hate open conclusions, but this is rather depressive strain of thought that maybe some of you have experienced in some way.