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She wakes up by increments, by slow degrees, in a bed of silence. Her eyes are bound in white bandages. The world feels - strange. Uncomfortable.
There’s a hand in hers. Warm. And the subtle lilac smell of her older sister; the shampoo Hinata wears when she’s off the active duty roster. That much is enough to make Hanabi’s nose scrunch up. Why on earth would Hinata be off active duty?
She squeezes her sister’s hand, and the subtle touch seems to spring her sister into wakefulness. Hinata sucks in one sharp breath and then she’s awake, Hanabi can feel it.
“‘Inata,” Hanabi rasps, surprised by how low and disused her voice sounds. “Wha - ‘inata, wha’ happen?”
She’s been drugged, too. The good stuff. The grogginess holds her tongue thick in her mouth, and suddenly, there’s a fiercely throbbing pain just behind her eyes.
“Muh face,” she groans, “‘inata, muh eyes - ,”
“I’m going to call a nurse, Hanabi, okay?” Hinata says, her voice low and soothing. It reminds Hanabi of their mother’s, of the low tones of her voice whenever they were sick at home and their father was convinced she was coddling them.
“Buh my eyes, ‘inata - ,”
“I know,” Hinata says, rubbing her thumb gently over Hanabi’s knuckles. Hanabi can hear the faint trill of the call button. “I know.”
It almost takes no time for the nurses to get there, but when they do, they come in like a herd.
The first of the Hyūga were blind, and were gifted with the Byakugan by a kindly goddess. Or a slug sage. Or they always had it, if you listened to the Ōtsutsuki’s. No matter how the story went, the Hyūga trained without their eyes. Hanabi can feel the chakra around her as well as her Byakugan can see it.
She knows the heavy, rooted feeling of the Godaime, the low steady heat of her first disciple, and the ferocity of her second apprentice’s. There’s also the bright spring feeling of Moegi, and that’s enough to make Hanabi reach out a hand towards where she feels it.
She can hear the moment Moegi’s training as a medic fails her. Hears her hiccup and launch forward. Her grip nearly crushes Hanabi’s hand, but Hanabi can’t make herself mind.
“Mo,” she says, feeling fluttery. “Mo - ,”
“Moegi,” Sakura says, voice firm. Hanabi can feel Moegi flinch. Sakura learned exactly how to be a teacher from the Godaime, and she is as unyielding as her shishou.
Still. Both are soft when it comes to love.
“Keep her steady,” she continues. “I’m going to remove the bandages.”
“Yes, shishou,” Moegi says, and she lays her other hand steady on Hanabi’s shoulder. Hinata holds onto her as well, the both of them mooring Hanabi as best as they can.
“Hyūga-kun,” Sakura says softly as she approaches. “I have a pair of medical scissors. I’m going to use them to cut the bandages off your face. Are you ready?”
Hanabi nods. It makes her head feel wobbly. Her eyes are throbbing in her skull in perfect time with her heartbeat.
“Muh eyes - ,”
“We’re going to check on them.”
Hanabi swallows, tongue still feeling thick in her mouth. She waits, forcing down her instinct to throw Sakura off and get the scissors away from her face. The world gets brighter, slowly, as the scissors slice up.
“Okay, Hyūga-kun,” the Godaime says. Tsunade’s voice is steely. The command is present, but it’s also kind. It’s better bedside manner than most get. Some say she’d softened after the war. “Try opening her eyes.”
It’s like peeling them open. She has to force it a little bit, has to try. She grunts with the effort it takes, and has to wonder how long she’s been asleep. It shouldn’t be this difficult.
And the throbbing in her eyes has rattled itself into a full blown headache, like war drums thrumming in her pupils themselves. And when she finally does get her eyes open, it’s like - it’s like looking into the sun.
Sakura pulls a small flashlight from her pocket and gently flickers the light in either of Hanabi’s eyes. She tests the sensitive skin of her eyelids with probing fingers. Her own green eyes are narrowed.
“Everything seems normal, new appearance notwithstanding,” Sakura says. “New pupils react normally to light. Lid sensitivity that usually happens to dōjutsu users is fine. There are no obstructions, no rings. Nothing abnormal at all.”
It doesn’t seem like it. Somehow, the world is full of more light. And somehow - somehow she can feel it. Feel the light. Feel the blood pumping in Hinata’s fingers, the oxygen in Moegi’s lungs. She can feel the earth several feet below the hospital thrumming with life, shifting to make mountains and change valleys.
She can feel the planet from her hospital bed.
“Well, then, Hyūga-kun,” the Godaime says, arms folded lightly at her chest. “It seems your Tenseigan is stable.”
Hanabi nearly chokes. The Godaime chuckles. And Hanabi can feel the way the laugh reverberates through the woman’s chest. Can damn well see it if she squints.
She could feel the village if she focused. She could pluck out all of their heartbeats. Could feel a snowstorm in Kumo, if she tried. It’s a rush, and a heady one at that. Knowing that the heartbeat of the planet is pulsing in her eyes in her head, is beating in the cavity of her own chest.
It connects her in a feedback loop of life. It could help her restore the planet to life, if she had to. If it begged that of her. And Hanabi would, without question.
The Godaime sighs through her nose. Hanabi squeezes her hand. Moegi’s hand goes clammy in Hanabi’s grip.
“We’d like to run a few tests.”