Eight Years Ago.
"The Hyūga Clan has been slaughtered."
The news had spread quickly that the once noble clan had fallen off the face of the Elemental Nations. Murmurs and whispers filled the lands, sounding like rustling leaves in the wind as it travelled from village to village. How the mighty Hyūga have fallen at the hands of their enemies.
"Who could have done such a thing?"
"They have made countless enemies for the sake of power."
"Their pride was the end of them."
Rumours and gossip filled the mouths of travellers, sharing a tale about what had supposedly happened to the famed Hyūga. A clan so upheld and worshiped for the powers that they protected with their very lives — was gone in the calmness of the night.
Smaller clans gathered at the gates of the manor, priests and monks surrounding the broken down walls as they prayed for the restless souls who would soon wander the lands in anger. Their heads were bowed whilst mourning relentlessly. They wondered who the culprit of such horrid acts could be.
As the prayers became louder, more and more people joined in the religious chants, a cloaked figure slipped away from the group. A basket was strapped to their back, a wooden stick held in their hand as support, and the unmistakable stain of blood covered the edge of their kimono and the straps of their zōri.
Once the deafening sounds of a hundred prayers was nothing but a dull noise that was quickly replaced by the sound of a flowing river; the cloaked figure removed their hood. Midnight blue hair flew freely in the blowing wind as they removed their cloak.
Working swiftly and quietly, pale eyes darted back and forth as they changed their bloodied kimono for the clothes of a civilian. Gone were the colourful patterns of multiple layers of the robes, it was replaced by dull fabrics that hung loosely on their body. Pushing the stained clothes into the empty basket, along with the family ribbon that they once wore proudly, they placed the basket into the river.
Clutched in their hands, a piece that they could not let go of, was an engraved hairpin; 日向 — Hyūga. Tucking it safely into their pocket, they quickly braided their hair and followed the river upstream. They needed to find a place to live their life without being discovered.
If anyone were to learn that the Hyūga Heiress was still alive, they would come searching for her to finish what they started.
Lifting the hood of her cloak over her head once more, Hyūga Hinata took one last glance at the path leading to her old home.
Sadness washed over her as she remembered the screaming and cries of her fellow clansmen who so desperately wanted to be spared. They had died protecting her, hiding her away from the clutches of their attackers with promises to return. She had believed them and prayed for their safety; but alas, they had kept one of their promises to fight no matter what.
Activating the eyes coveted by her enemies, she once again frowned upon realizing that no one had survived despite her foolish dreams. Her father was gone; and so were her cousins and friends.
Hyūga Hinata was the only survivor of the massacre.
☼ 日向導 ☼
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日向導 - A Hyūga's Guide
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