M-rating for language, themes, and anything in-between. Genre is a little bit of everything except for what isn't present.
Black and Purple Don't Mix #1
To say that he was conscious of the complex emotions inside of him would have given the young Uchiha too much credit. The intense, twisted feelings he had for her for as long as he could remember were nothing more than a mix of contempt and fascination that he held for the world as a whole.
He could not have known it was different with her.
He would have never guessed he would have anything to do with her.
When he was aware that she was taking up more mental space than he would have cared for, it sent him hurdling through a life crisis that many children his age would have easily identified as a crush. A normal child would have experienced the emotions to the fullest or silently allowed the feelings to pass, but he was of a different kind. Life had put him through extremes, so the budding affections were obsessed over—for better and for worse—and he was tormented with the thought of her. He wanted her out of his head and out of his range of emotion, but the more he tried to shut her out, the more longing and heartache consumed him.
He always asked himself—always begged to whatever forces above or below to give him the answer—but he supposed, he had already known why. He never knew why her or why him, but he had replayed his life events almost constantly and pinpointed why this madness had started. Circumstantial, really. It could have been anyone. He had two options that were the most distinct times in his life he could say he was hooked—trapped—unable to turn back.
The first time would be the most cliché option. He hadn't noticed her until he was an official, full time orphan. He was just a child; his family had just been massacred, and all eyes were on him, constantly. He didn't care either way; he learned to get use to it.
He didn't see her until, perhaps, his second week there.
She was a small, stumbling girl who always walked beside her father, if not someone else of the Hyuuga clan. He may have been trapped there because that's where part of his emotions had started: The hatred. She had a clan gifted with the infamous Byakugan; she was the precious heiress; she was never alone, yet she walked around like an undeserving, ungrateful brat. She showed no air of confidence, and there was never a hint of joy in her when she was around the members of her clan.
The fact that he, the boy who adored his family, had lost everything at the hands of his older brother and was left with nothing but eyes that only furthered his resentment towards the world while this spoiled, purple-haired heiress had it all only made him furious.
The second time would be the option that probably made more sense, but he hated it more than the first. He had been living in Konoha for two years on his own, and the attention on him only increased. He had a name for himself before he could even make one, and once life at the Academy started, it only enhanced his image, not that he cared either way how he was viewed. His female classmates were particularly more aware of his presence, and the only person to rival that acute keen eye for detail would be the idiot with the blonde hair—the boy with no parents, the boy whom everyone disregarded, the one named Naruto Uzumaki.
No, he hadn't cared much for him at first, but he was...interesting, to say the least. They had something in common, and he was grateful for that, but Naruto was loud, outspoken, and challenged him to just about everything and anything he could think of.
He enjoyed that, to some extent.
It was annoying as hell, but to some extent, he enjoyed winning all the time.
Then came the day when she was thrust into the mix.
School had let out for the day, and he was making his way home. He was just about to leave the property when, off to his left, he saw the timid girl standing partially behind a tree. It was incredibly stupid; she looked incredibly stupid, and he found his anger igniting once again. What could she possibly be doing, he wondered. She was looking in at the school, but she had just gotten out, so what was there to see? Everyone was going home, so maybe she was waiting for someone to escort her to the Hyuuga compound.
The thought made him angrier.
She really was spoiled.
She was a decent few feet away, and seeing how he was in no rush to go anywhere, he made his way over to her. He was irritated, that was certain, but he was also curious. She was spoiled, he knew this to be true as well, but she was far too cautious for this all to be a result of her upbringing. There was more to her, and if he really, truly wanted to know, he'd have to fight through his disdain and talk to her. He could do that much—for himself, of course.
"Hey," he had said when he reached her, "what are you doing?"
She jumped, looking at him with wide, fearful eyes. She stared at him, one hand balled at her chest and the other attaching her to the tree.
He scrunched a brow. "What's the matter with you?"
She relaxed, glancing back into the schoolyard and then at him again.
If he didn't know any better, judging by the look in her eye, he would say she had close to no idea who he was.
But that was impossible.
Everyone knew who he was, and, surely, the heiress of the prestigious Hyuuga Clan would know him. He was the last survivor of the Uchiha Clan—the founders and rightful owners of the Sharingan. Still, her eyebrows were raised, slightly together, as if trying to place where she had seen him in her life. It wasn't as if she was certain she had seen him before, but she was certain she would have had to simply because he was standing in front of her.
So, they were like this for a minute. The more the seconds raced by, the more he was convinced she didn't even recognize him. And, if he thought about it, she wasn't gushing over him like the other girls did. She wasn't even trembling in some form of embarrassment. Whether or not she knew him couldn't influence whether or not she liked him, could it? Because all the girls liked him; she should be no different.
There was a yell from behind them, one filled with mischief and amusement.
The Hyuuga's gaze snapped into that direction, a small breath escaping her. He frowned further, looking into that direction and saw a hoard of children and few adults rushing out the building, yelling and protesting incoherently. To no surprise at all, Naruto was the one all the attention was aimed at.
"Idiot," the Uchiha had muttered under his breath. He glanced back at the Hyuuga only to have been thrown off by her behavior even more. She was huddled closer to the tree, facing the commotion. The hand that was near her chest was now fixed near the side of her mouth, and a small blush tinted her cheeks. With her eyebrows raised in much the same fashion as a moment ago but softened considerably, he could not tell if she was happy or worried, even though a delicate smile was on her face.
He didn't understand.
Then, in an instant, her face contorted in fear, an audible gasp ripping through her lips, and she took a step back. His gaze turned once again to where she was looking; Naruto was running their way, grinning and laughing, the crowd nearly lost behind him. The Hyuuga girl clung to the Uchiha's shirt, burying her face in his chest.
"Hey, Sasuke," Naruto said tauntingly, stopping near him. He looked down at the trembling girl on his shirt. "Who's that? Your girlfriend?"
In the distance, the crowd could be heard roaring Naruto's name, advancing quickly. The blond looked back, eyes shinning and a big grin spreading from ear to ear.
He began running again, shouting over his shoulder, "You didn't see me here!"
The Uchiha watched with little interest in the matter. The heiress raised her head slightly, face hidden from his view for the moment. Not long after the blond was gone, the mob came charging by, a few greeting the Uchiha boy and a surprising handful stopping to identify that it, in fact, was the heiress clinging to him, and he was not pushing her away.
They soon passed, leaving the two dark-haired children alone and giving him ample opportunity to assess why she had clung to him the way she did, and why she was still clinging to him. He looked at her, finally able to see her face, only to find that she was blushing madly, still looking off in the direction everyone had rushed off to. He didn't get it—absolutely did not understand why she was acting this way. Her lips twitched, causing him to focus intently and found her mouthing 'Na-ru-to.'
It clicked with him then. Her weird behavior, the clinging, the blushing. It was all for him—because of him.
She liked Naruto.
She had no trouble focusing on him or recognizing that idiot, but God forbid she break her brain trying to figure out who he was.
Thus, the hatred came again, full force, with her blissfully unaware she was holding onto him or that he was even there. He didn't know he would dislike being ignored and, maybe, she was not ignoring him.
She couldn't ignore someone she had no conscious awareness of.
And yet...his chest hurt, burning with something else he wasn't familiar with. It made him want to curl into himself and disappear, but standing in front of her like this was just the same.
Yes, remembering that time made him sick because he had no other way to think around what he felt at the time. Now that he was older, he knew very well what was going on within him, and he was a little surprised he felt something like that at such a young age.
He was surprised...and pissed off.
He didn't like to waste his time or energy on anything unnecessary, yet he couldn't stop wasting his time and energy shifting through emotions as it related to her.
He closed his eyes, forcing out that time if he had any hope of keeping his mentality. In truth, he felt like he was losing his mind, and it was all because of her.
At the Academy, things more or less centered around him, yet for him, they were centered around the heiress.
He never interacted with her after that day, but he kept an eye out for her, which wasn't a hard thing to do. Wherever Naruto was, she'd be close by, if she could help it.
It bothered him how she kept herself hidden from the moron, but he took joy in it, too. Every time she'd pass up a chance to talk to Naruto, or try and fail, she'd get a hopeless look of rejection—something very close to utter devastation—and he loved it. She wore it well.
Things didn't get much better than that because he was letting his emotions get the best of him. He was once asked if he preferred girls with long or short hair and, in a burst of blinded rage at the girl who came to mind, he snorted, simply replying with, "Long."
He hadn't expected that to be such a big deal, but all the girls suddenly had the desire to grow their hair. He didn't get it at first because he wasn't aware he was the cause of it. He actually didn't care for the trend since it caused all the girls to become even more fussy about sparring.
Then he was curious.
What if she had grown her hair, too? He remembered thinking that for a week. She had been absent from the Academy for a reason he couldn't remember, and all around him girls' hair was getting longer. It killed him to not know how she looked because he was so sure it would be to her ankles by now.
That dream was soon crushed when he saw her one evening being escorted as usual. He was sitting by the river when he happened to look behind him, thinking he'd see his idiot rival, if he could be called that. Instead he found the Hyuuga walking with her father towards the Academy. Her hair was short.
"You should grow out your hair," her father commented. "It would enhance your image as an heiress."
She shook her head timidly, as though denying anything her father said was a gamble.
"Your mother has long hair, Hinata. If you are afraid it will not look becoming, then worry no more."
She worried the hem of her sleeve, grabbing onto her father's clothing.
The young boy watched the Hyuugas silently walk off. He felt...very conflicted. That conversation had nothing to do with him, but at the same time, he felt like it had everything to do with him. He actually liked her hair the way it was, but it's not like he didn't have a clue why she kept her hair short; he just didn't care for the reason. He convinced himself he didn't care at all.
In the oncoming years, they never said a word to each other, but he watched her. He watched her, and she watched him, the idiot.
Watching her angered and pleased him. She wasn't as defenseless as everyone made her out to be, and she trained more than he would have ever thought. She was fearless on her own, but when it mattered, she held back so much. She was also persistent, especially when it came to Naruto. The blond would brush her off (though it never seemed to be on purpose) and never even knew she craved his attention. The more he noticed this, the more he hated the both of them, but that was the other thing: He couldn't fully hate Naruto. He disliked Naruto for being a constant annoyance, but he also thought highly of him and...was envious. Naruto had no family, no friends, nothing and no one to care for, yet he had an unwavering resolve.
And, maybe, he was wrong about one thing.
Naruto did have at least one person who cared for him, and that was the very same person the Uchiha hated. Truly hated.
He hated her and, perhaps, he thought, loved her. Her pale, flawless skin, her timid, pearl white eyes, her smooth, dark amethyst hair...even her awkward graces—he hated and loved everything about her.
In the end, he figured he was just as bad as she was when it came to talking to the person of his affection. He wasn't nervous, though, no. He was unable to approach her without feeling the urge to slam her to the wall by her throat and then caress her fear-stricken red face in hopes of soothing her; that particular thought occupied his mind for a month, and he had been so at peace during that time. It only got better during the Chunin Exams when she had to fight her cousin. He knew she would lose, and part of him had wanted to ruthlessly beat all who allowed that match to happen...but he had loved watching it.
He didn't know how to explain the way he felt watching the introverted, love-struck heiress work up the nerve to fight all because Naruto was there, only to be beaten mercilessly. He had had dreams about it, some that left him feeling really good when he woke up. He'd fantasize about it—maybe in the hopes of making himself feel good. He didn't know how much of that twisted perversion carried over into his teen years, but he was almost certain he was over such fantasies now.
It shouldn't have surprised him that things only got worse, in a way. The curse mark he had gotten was starting to cause him problems, but it seemed the mark had a vengeance on two occasions: 1) When he was backed into a corner in battle, seeing as how he did not yet know how to control it at will, and 2) whenever the Hyuuga did something to tempt his emotions. The latter happened quite often, and he had more difficulty getting it under control. It was maddening—it was cruel—and he wanted a way out.
When the chance came, he jumped at it with gusto.
He left the village, an emotional Sakura spewing nonsense before the departure, and he began his new life as the rouge ninja of Konoha and the apprentice of Orochimaru. The lifestyle was just what he needed: Brutal, cut-throat, slightly juvenile, but fitting. Orochimaru had many spar partners for him, and if the Uchiha wasn't picturing them as the Hyuuga, then it was Naruto.
He never sparred the same opponent twice.
However, he found his emotions wouldn't subside just because he was attempting everything he could to tame them. He still had thoughts, and not being able to see her only made him more agitated, so he visited the village three times and three times only, all undetected.
His first visit was easier than he had thought it should have been. He knocked out a villager early in the morning and had taken on his form for two hours just to see what he had left behind. The Uchiha found that his name was in many conversations. Some believed he had been tricked into leaving, and others feared his role in Orochimaru's scheme.
He hadn't seen the Hyuuga or Naruto that day.
The second time, he went at night, and he went to see her. Again, that was easier than it should have been.
Finding was not.
It took him thirty minutes of ducking in and out of shadows, quick last minute decisions, and sheer luck to find her room. When he approached her window, peering in, she was asleep, facing him, curled up in her blankets. Seeing her made him feel numb—all tension and awareness leaving his body to the point where he felt blissfully drugged. She had looked so calm, mouth slightly parted, hair tousled. A smirk played at his lips when he noted her dark locks were longer—nothing significant, probably to her shoulders, but he was pleased. His absence, he thought, had had an impact on her.
She moved, turning on her back, pushing some of her blanket off. His lips parted, eyes widening of their own accord, and his body swarmed with arousal and chills; he scolded himself the very next second. He didn't know she slept in just underwear and a T-shirt, and he had no idea puberty was being so gracious to her. The curves of her body were becoming well defined, and her breasts... It wasn't possible that, in just a few months, they would become so full. Considering she had to be in the A-cup range when he left and now had to be well within the C-cup range... It was wonderful. He never considered himself to be a breasts man—and he probably wasn't considering he never looked at anyone else this way—but the Hyuuga made him want to change his mind.
For her, of course.
The third and final time is what sent him over the edge in this...borderline insane mindset he had concerning her. He had wanted to see her, had irrationally let himself believe he could approach her if he timed it right, so he came again three weeks later.
It was evening, and he had been keeping an eye on her all day; she had been training in the Hyuuga compound with little to no break until seven o'clock. He had been on high alert, itching to get her alone, but he hadn't really thought about what he would say. It didn't matter. He had been stuck on the idea of seeing her—of confronting her now that he was older and more mature—and his mind wandered greatly on what would happen after their eyes met.
After training, she had taken a shower, something he didn't get to see, and had ventured into the village for who knows what reason.
It bothered him.
There were practically no people around, but it was enough for him to be cautious. Then she was approached by Tenten and Lee, and they talked for a while when his name came up.
"Hard to believe Sasuke is actually gone," Tenten said, disheartened.
"It is a shame!" Lee exclaimed. "A boy full of such youth should not waste his talents with the likes of Orochimaru!"
"Sakura has been taking it pretty bad. She's not the same anymore."
"Hinata!" Lee said, doing an elaborate pose in front of the heiress. "Sasuke has been gone for three months, and I have never heard you voice your opinion on the matter!"
She looked at him, taken aback. "Wh-what?"
"He's right," Tenten agreed. "What do you think?"
They waited, as did the Uchiha. She looked between the two, shifting on one foot uncomfortably.
"I-I'm sorry," she said finally, giving a small smile. "Which one...is he?"
"What?!" they both exclaimed.
"What do you mean 'which one'?!" Tenten yelled incredulously. "Sasuke Uchiha. He went rouge!"
"U-um..." She pushed her index fingers together. "The one...with the sand?"
Tenten stared at her, mouth hanging open. "You're kidding, right? We're talking about Naruto's rival."
Her face brightened. "Oh, him." She paused. "He's gone?"
His eyes flashed open, Sharingan glaring into darkness.
He relaxed his hand, which had instinctively gripped his katana, and growled to himself as the lingering effects of the dream washed over him. That was a memory that never ceased to infuriate him. If he had had his katana then, he was sure he would have slashed her; he just didn't know if he would have wanted her barely clinging to life or dead.
She hadn't known he was gone.
She only remembered who he was as it related to Naruto.
He scoffed; he couldn't take much more of this.
He didn't have to.
Rolling out of bed, he walked outside, consuming himself in moonlight. There was a breeze swirling the warm air around, and he hated it. Remnants of his dream swirled around his head, and he hated it. He hated a lot of things right now simply because he hadn't woken up right.
Staring into the night sky, he came to a decision: It was about time he paid her a visit. She's sure to know who he is now; he had made sure of that. To make a name for himself so even she would shudder was part of his goal. He closed his eyes, breathing in, then exhaled.
"I'm coming for you," he smiled, drunk on the images he had built inside his head, "Hinata," he murmured, shivering as her name left his lips.