A/N: For your record, I've never actually seen snow and I know nothing about piano playing. I took the imagery purely from my deluded brain. So if anybody notices any mistakes in the way I describe both, please be so kind to excuse this humble soul.

And since this is an AU, I have to make up names of places as well as alter some information for the sake of the story. Just hoping I'll pull it off. *crossfingers

Happy reading, wonderful readers. :)

Konoha is crowded. Far too crowded.

She held her breath against the harassing chilly air as soon as she walked out the door and immediately regretted her decision to postpone buying a new umbrella after the old one broke yesterday. She zipped her coat further up her throat as if it would ease the surrounding cold.

About three minutes on the sidewalk her shadow passed a shop window. Her sable hair was already swathed in snowflakes, giving her the impression of having a bad case of dandruff. She shook them off, dispatching irritation at the weather.

Unlike most people, she never liked snow. The fact that she was born in winter didn't seem to help her recollect one single good moment happening during the season.

When she was ten years old, her little sister demanded them to play in their garden. Their father was away until evening, and Hinata was given the duty to babysit her until he came back because the servants were away for holiday. It was snowing badly and everything was blinding white and slippery. She was unwilling to get out of the house on such weather, but her little sister threw such an aggravating tantrum that she eventually complied. Knowing Hanabi, Hinata better submitted to her request before the younger one went off running to tell their father how 'unpleasant' her big sister was.

Father always favored Hanabi.

He always said that she was a prodigy. True, that at such a young age Hanabi has already mastered complex sets of compositions that Hinata herself barely pulled off. She used to watch in silence as Hanabi played a sonata other little girls her age normally had never heard of and succeeded in earning an actual applause from her father, along with some "Good job" or "That's my child". He never said that to Hinata. The best she'd ever get was "You're not too disappointing." There had been no praise, no swift pat on the head, no nothing more than that.

Her mother passed away when Hanabi was eight months old. Mother had always been in a frail health as far as Hinata could remember. Hinata never had the chance to say goodbye. She was getting home from school that day, taking her time strolling along a desolate creek on the way to her house. She had had an arrangement with her personal chauffer beforehand to let her play for some time on the woods nearby—under his supervision, of course. Her father and mother must be too busy taking care of her newborn sister anyway. She didn't feel like coming home in a hurry.

She remembered arriving to a gathering of people, all wearing the same expression that got her puzzled. She ran inside to find her father by her mother's bedside, asked him what happened, and only gained a frozen stare as a reply. She didn't understand; her mother was simply sleeping, that's all. She recalled Hanabi's screams from the next room and the sound of one of the servants trying to soothe her down. Hinata touched her mother's cheek to wake her and was startled to find how cold it was.

And then her father spoke, "She was so much like you."

Hinata looked up, hoping.

"She was too weak."

Above all things, those words were the ones who were able to slice their way into her very core and resided there.

Hinata grew watching her little sister reaped all the compliments until she stopped trying to do the same. Soon she withdrew from the world around her. A slight appreciation was what she sought for, but rejection was all she could manage to get. Over time, her speech started to stutter. Her sentence would come out broken and unheard, and then ridiculed. She preferred silence.

That day with the fierce snow, as she obliged in taking Hanabi outside to play, she could feel the cold start clawing down her skin. Hanabi was dashing back and forth, cackling merrily as if oblivious with the icy surroundings.

"Look! The pond is freezing. I wonder how the carps are doing under there."

Hinata was trembling to her bones. "C-can we just go back inside, p-please, Hanabi?"

Her little sister rose and shouted, "Race me to the pond, sister! Catch me and make me go back inside!"

"N-no, Hanabi, please…"

Hanabi stopped. Her eyes cast an oddly mature glow.

"I'll tell Father you won't play with me."

She had said the magic word.

Hinata sighed and, ignoring her numbing toes and the glassy surface, rushed to get Hanabi.

She forgot she was still wearing her indoor sandals.

Hanabi was too quick for her; she swerved sharply right before Hinata's hands were able to clutch at her shoulder. Hinata lost her balance, arms waved for a support but could find none. She landed face first on the frozen ground after her foot hit one of the ornamental stones near the pavement.

Her nose was bloody, her ankle twisted and shin fractured. Her father came home not long after, saw her state, and commented, "Make sure not to hurt your wrist next time. Unless you want to give up playing the piano for good."

Her father's chauffeur help her bandaged her foot and took her to the hospital. Hinata felt tears streaming down her cheeks that had nothing to do with the pain on her leg. She had hated snow since.

The twenty-two year old Hinata Hyuuga quickened her pace, endlessly checking her wristwatch to make sure she still got some time left before the concert began. Her boots was slipping every so often on the snowy sidewalk. The concert building couldn't be reached by the subway train. It left her no choice but to take a taxi, something she had barely ever done before in her whole life.

I don't even know why I am doing this.

She left her house at the age of eighteen. It was the day of her high school graduation. She brought her diploma before her father and, gathering her courage, articulated her request.

"I w-would like to move out."

Her father simply glanced at her.

"You won't survive out there without me," he said.

"On the c-contrary, Father," she replied in a more defiant, slightly shaking tone. "I will."

She turned her back at him, walked away, and had never come back since.

Out of her savings, she rented a condominium not too far from the music school for children where she took a job as a piano teacher. Perhaps the condo was too small and plain for some, but enough for her and her modest income. There, she had never felt more at home, even in comparison with her childhood at her family manor.

Although it reminded her of all the things she had hated in her life, she couldn't erase her love for the piano. It defined her, represented her; its tunes were her unspoken words, its melody her covert emotions, and each and every curve of the notes on the musical sheet were her concealed plea. Her fingers were the mediator between her and that clandestine world, where nobody but herself had the access to.

One day, after four years scarcely with any contact, Hinata got a surprise visit from Hanabi. She had grown into a beautiful young woman. In spite of that, she exhibited a quality that could make one shivers in her vicinity. Hanabi drank the tea Hinata served her with a cool uncompassionate look on her eyes; the look that Hinata had only seen belonged to one other person. Her father.

"Sister," she began. "I want you to come to my solo concert."

It was not a request; it was a command, an imperative. She had possessed the authority. She had used to having people obeyed her orders without protests.

Hinata gazed at the invitation Hanabi passed her. She had known about the event, of course. Hanabi's face was all over; on the newspaper, the posters on the walls of buildings, even on the bulletin board on her workplace. A young pianist from the prestigious Hyuuga family was making her first inclusive concert. There were rumors that even the Prime Minister was invited.

"I'll try." Hinata said. It wasn't a promise.

"It would... be good if you do," Hanabi lifted her eyes to meet hers, and for a millisecond Hinata could see the ice melting within them. It vanished right away to be replaced by her usual glacier glare as if it was never there.

"Father also would like you to come," Hanabi continued. "He is well."

Hinata didn't deem the information to be particularly essential to her knowledge. She didn't question further.

After Hanabi left, Hinata pondered at the invitation lying on the table she still had not touched. In eloquent letters, the words The Night of the Fireworks: Hyuuga Hanabi presents Her Performance of the Century were inscribed on the surface. She didn't see her name on the corner of the paper where the invitee's names are usually written. Instead, it said Oneechan. 'Big Sister'.

Tears started pooling on her eyes.

So this Saturday night she found herself under the January snowfall, looking for an unoccupied taxi. Again she zipped up her collar and tightened the scarf around her neck, aching to go back under the snuggly warmth of her kotetsu. But right at the moment a taxi stopped in front of her.

"Ogasawara Hall, please," Hinata spoke when she entered.

"You got it," the driver readily stepped on the gas. The road was still clear in the neighborhood. It ran smoothly while Hinata gazed at the smudgy window. She couldn't help but to wonder how long has it been since the surface last experienced being transparent. She darted her eyes to the front pane, where the windshield wipers made noisy squeaks as they rub away snowflakes, its whiteness became a distinct background for the spiral-shaped ornament hanging from the rearview mirror.

Hinata had to stifle a giggle when realizing that the upholsteries and the major part of the car's interior were colored in eye-popping bright orange. Even the steering wheel. Yet, the seat leather was wearing thin and there were holes scattered here and there on its surface, showing the rubber foam beneath. Several holes were plugged with candy wrappers. Hinata wouldn't be surprised if she were to find a myriad of gums sticking under her seat, but she chose, wisely, not to check.

Something that resembles a bulging black plastic bag was crammed into the bottom of the driver seat while an empty milk carton was poking from behind the shifting gear. And there was this robust, somewhat familiar smell of something ammoniacal she could yet to put her finger on. It was most probably food, and a salty one at that, but after mulling over it for a minute and still nothing came up, she decided to give the matter up entirely.

Her taxi made its turn to the downtown and was met with a total deadlock. Far to the front of what seemed to be an endless line of waiting vehicles, Hinata imagined thousands of pedestrians flooded the intersection near the train station, as per usual in every weekend. This would surely take a while.

When impatient honks started roaring all around her, Hinata consulted her wristwatch. Half an hour to the opening, and normally it would take at least twenty minutes to get to her destination. Would she ever make it? Did she really want to make it?

"Konoha is crowded. Far too crowded."

Hinata jolted. "E-excuse me?"

The taxi driver glanced at her via the rearview mirror. "I said Konoha is far too crowded. Don't you agree, miss?"

From the same surface Hinata noticed that he was grinning widely—a rather unfitting countenance considering the circumstances. As he stretched a sturdy hand to adjust the rearview mirror, the streetlight fell upon it, giving away the view of his well-tanned skin tone. But perhaps his most striking feature was his citrine blond hair; it grew rather untamed halfway down the back of his neck with ends sticking in various places. He wasn't wearing a uniform like other drivers normally did.

"I heard that it is the most populated area in the world," he went on, despite receiving no reply from his passenger. "Boy, it must be really hard to find a person in such a place, innit?"

Another question went unanswered. While this might be a downer to most people, the general rule didn't seem to apply to him. Again he observed his passenger's reflection and asked, "So, anyway, what are you going to Ogasawara for?"

Well, she would be a complete jerk if she didn't respond to that. "I'm going to a concert," she muttered.

"That piano concert? The one by that- uh, what's his name... That pianist Hyuuga Hiashi's daughter isn't it? Hyuuga Hanabi?"

Hinata nodded, ignoring the bitter twisting in her stomach.

"Yeah, I see the posters practically everywhere I look," he gave a short chuckle. "So, you like classical music?"

She was about to correct him by saying, It's not really classical music, but quickly repressed the urge. Instead she simply offered another nod.

"Well, not me. I'm more of an alternative kind of guy. Strong vocals, expressive lyrics, gritty melodies, the sort. To be frank, I never really get classical music. I call it 'sleepy music'. You know, because I can hardly stay awake when listening to it."

Yet another silence. It wasn't that she didn't want to speak; it was simply because she could not figure out what to say. He was nice, she'd give him that. Most people never really find it interesting to strike a conversation with her unless it's absolutely necessary. Granted, he was a taxi driver—being attentive is what he was paid for.

Still she had to admit feeling a bit warmer inside.

Or, maybe it's just because of the heater…

She leaned back at her seat and tried to inhale as much of air that wasn't contaminated by the lingering aroma. It turned out to be not as easy as she thought it'd be. Having to bear with this smell until the unidentified amount of time it would take until she reached Ogasawara left Hinata wishing she hadn't gone in the first place. She started questioning whether there was such thing as a silver lining in this type of situation—God knows how much she needed that right now.

- to be continued -

A review for my thoughts? :3