The best description he could think of was that it was black. Or, it was the in the beginning.

“It” being the world.

As one might, he’d wondered once upon a time about what a blind person saw. He’d even asked about it at some point and had been told that they saw nothing. But what was nothing? He’d always been able to see and the answer was one that made little sense. Still curious, but unable to come across an answer that he could understand, he’d dismissed the question and moved on.

What is nothing?

For a short time the answer had become to mean black. When they removed the bandage wrapped around his head and told him that it was okay to look around, he saw black. He’d blink, opening his eyes again as if that might change things. All that was ever there, however, was black.

He couldn’t say exactly when that began to change.

It was strange. Black, then nothing. There was no good way to describe the nothingness, because it wasn’t something that could be described. Nothing was nothing, and that was all it could be. What words could be used to explain to someone who had never experienced the sensation of there being nothing? He could hear, he could taste and touch, he could remotely sense when someone was nearby by their chakra signatures. It was funny, a faint skill that he’d never paid much attention to until this point was becoming one of the most important things to him.

Nothingness wasn’t the lack of something, but more the lack of noticing that he was missing that something. Occasionally, there would be a reminder. At those times, he’d lock himself away. He didn’t like the pity that others faced him with, or the guilt that his two teammates always filled their voices with- whether they knew it or not. He’d become much more aware of the changes in tone one might display, something that despite being useful he couldn’t appreciate.

If it wasn’t for the black- the nothing- he’d never have needed to develop the ability.

The self-loathing was another good reason to lock himself away.

At the same time, it seemed that there was always that one person who was determined to interrupt these moments when he detached himself from others. It was funny- he’d never realized how headstrong she was before. Temperamental- yes- he’d known that from the first day he’d met her at the academy. The unbreakable stubbornness, however, was new.

His back pressed against his bedroom door, he silently listened as she and his mother talked in the hall. He knew it was her before she’d said a word, after all, it was as if she was the only one his mother called when she didn’t know how to handle him.

“I’m so grateful you could come,” the woman informed her as she fumbled with buttons of her labcoat. “I got called in, Soshu is off on a mission. My sister came to pick up Kazue about ten minutes ago, so there’s no need to worry about her. Him on the other hand…”

The small, fourteen year-old girl gave a wry smile, crossing her arms over her chest.

“One of those days?”

The older woman winced, but gave a small nod of her head before spinning around and shifting items around in her bag. It wouldn’t do for her to arrive at the hospital only to find that she’d left something at the house. It also meant that she didn’t have to look at Hikari as she answered.

“It is. Hisoka’s upset, but Kami forbid he admit it. I haven’t seen him since he tripped on the stairs this morning, maybe you’ll have better luck. He needs to eat something. There are bentos in the fridge, but feel free to cook if you’d like. Don’t be afraid to come get me if there’s a problem. I’ve got to go- thank-you so much for this Hikari-chan.”

The girl gave a small nod of her head, turning pursed lips towards the kitchen. Hesitation swept through her, although she dismissed it a moment later. Hikari’s mother had been teaching her how to cook for a few months now, surely she could manage something this simple. The worst that could happen was that the stove caught fire, in which case she’d figure out how to put it out.

Hopefully, it wouldn’t come to that. She’d only started a fire at home a few times, and none of them had been her fault. The first time, her mother hadn’t told her that leaving the wooden spoon next to the burner would allow it to catch fire. The second time, well, it was actually a mystery. Somehow the boiling water had caught fire. The third time was never to be mentioned. They’d simply thrown away the entire pot of food, it’d been making some mysterious gurgling noise even before the fire had started.

Recently her mother had been too busy to teach her. Everytime she asked if she could help make supper, her mother would make a funny face and thank her, but also say that she didn’t have time to teach her at the moment and it would just be quicker if she did it alone.

This was the perfect chance to practice.

About fifteen minutes later she heard a door snap open down the hall and a rush of footsteps. Surprised, she turned to face the door into the kitchen as Hisoka snapped it open, scarred eyes wide open.

“Where’s the fire?”

“There’s no fire,” she grumbled, turning her back to him.

He blinked, straightening up so that his shaggy hair fell into his eyes. A habit he’d taken to recently, he’d even informed his mother that he didn’t think he was going to cut it anytime soon. It covered the scars.

“It smells like there is.”

“There isn’t,” Hikari replied irritably. “I’m cooking, that’s all.”

The frown she’d grown used to seeing on his face disappeared for a split second as a grin broke out. Laughter filled the room as he held his stomach with one hand, bracing his other against the wall to keep himself from falling over as a result.

“You… you… Hika-chan… cooking?” he sputtered.

Irritation flashed through her and she sat the spoon she’d been using down on the counter and closed the distance between them. Without hesitation, she flicked him on the forehead.

“Shut up, baka! I can cook!”

Hisoka lost his balance, falling backwards on to his bottom. Her action had startled him, seeing as he hadn’t heard her approach over his laughter. Awkward silence fell between them. His grin disappeared- traded in for a soft scowl as his head faced the floor. He didn’t move from where he’d landed. Hikari simply watched him, her hand hesitantly hanging in the air between them.

Should she help him up? Would he get mad? It always depended on the day. Sometimes he let her help him. Half the time he pushed people away and insisted he could handle things himself.

“Hiso-kun-” she began.

He pushed himself to his feet, wiping away the scowl he’d been wearing and replacing with an obviously fake grin.

“Well, alright. If you can cook, then show me! I want to try Hika-chan’s food!” he announced.

Her face fell and not for the first time, she was glad he couldn’t see her expression. A second later she swallowed, then nodded, turning her back to him as she headed back over to the food that was giving off a strange scent.

“Then you better eat all of it!”

As soon as her back was to him, Hisoka’s scowl returned. As he dropped his hands to his sides, each clenching into fists. It was all he could do to hold back his need to just hit something. It was ridiculous. She’d been teasing him, acting normal. Yet he’d gone and gotten scared by that simple, familiar action. How many times over the years since he’d first started talking to her had she flicked him on the forehead? Dozens? Hundreds?

By the time she faced him again, he’d painted that smile back on. It didn’t change the fact, however, that when he sat down at the table there were nail marks on his palms. HIs fists had been clenched so tightly that the indents didn’t fade right away.

“Well, go ahead. Try it.”

He nodded, sweeping his hand over the table for the spoon. When she moved it towards him, he tensed, but took it without a word.

The black, the nothingness, he loathed it.

Suddenly, he wondered if letting her come by all the time was a good idea. She liked him- he’d always known that.

Was being stuck on someone like him good?

This thought in mind, he didn’t pay attention to the scent of the food before scooping a bit in his mouth. Unprepared, he instantly started coughing, clamping both hands over his mouth as he dropped the spoon. Absently, he wondered how it was even possible to make something taste that horrible.

“Are you okay?” Hikari demanded, slapping him on the back.

“It’s poison,” he choked out and she instantly dropped her hand, her face flushing bright red.

“It’s soup!” she insisted.

“Poisonous soup!”

“Jerk!”

“Murderer!”

“See if I ever cook for you again!”

“I don’t want you to!”

They were both silent for a split second, then started laughing together, the entire situation dissolving the previous tension in the air. Within moments the soup had been discarded and she’d settled their bentos out on the table. Before telling him it was ready, however she studied him for a hesitant moment. Then, with a determined expression, she retrieved his chopsticks from the cabinet and returned to his side.

“What are you doing?”

“Just keep your mouth open like that,” Hikari instructed.

He furrowed his brow, then grinned.

“Awww, how cute. You gonna try to feed me? Sure you’ll be able to manage it?”

Internally, a bitter feeling swept through him. He was completely aware that her actions, while well meaning, were only needed because he’d make a mess if he attempted to eat the bento himself. His mother had begun to make a habit of fixing them as exactly the same as she could manage, that way he’d be able to picture it in his mind and handle it himself.

Swatting him over the head with one hand, she scooped up a bit of the red-bean paste covered rice between the chopsticks.

“I said, keep it open.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Obligingly, he opened his mouth, taking the bite then shooting her the most charming grin he could manage.

“Well, how did it feel to feed me, the boy you… ‘hate’?”

She was extremely glad he couldn’t see her expression as her face flushed bright, tomato red as embarrassment shot through her and she almost dropped the chopsticks.

“Don’t make that word sound so fake!” Hikari ordered. “I do, I hate you. Completely and utterly.”

He rose a brow, putting an elbow on the table and laying his head on it.

“So you treat boys you hate like this?” he questioned, pointedly opening his mouth again.

“... I only hate you, baka!”

She scooped up and shoved another bite in his mouth, hard enough that he started coughing.

“Hey!”

“You deserved it,” she grumbled, a slightly sheepish expression on her face despite her tone. “Baka Hiso-kun. Meanie. Big jerk.”

He swallowed, then simply chuckled, leaving his head on his hand.

“Yes, yes. Next bite, please.”

As they continued, the bickering didn’t stop. In the hall, Miki simply stood there, her back against the wall just before the still open doorway. She couldn’t bring herself to go any further, despite the words his mother had spoken to her when they’d come across each other on the street. She’d said that Hikari and Hisoka were at the house and that she should join them. At that moment, however, it didn’t seem right.

Interrupting… no, she decided, shaking her head and pushing away from the wall. She’d go back to what she’d been doing before receiving the invitation. They were in rather good moods, she’d hate to ruin it. With this thought in mind, Miki slipped out the front door as silently as she’d slipped in. Once on the street, she hesitated.

What had she been going to do before coming here?

Unable to completely recall, she clasped her hands behind her back and simply started walking until she reached the shopping area. The soft jingle in her pocket reminded her of her task and she slipped past the couples and families walking down the road before making it to the little bookshop that sat directly on the corner of an intersection of several streets. Her favorite shop.

His, too.

As she drew close, the person in question paused, raising his eyes from the book he’d been looking over and simply studying her for a moment.

“... Miki.”

A faint smile appeared on her lips.

“Kakashi.”

Silence fell as they simply watched each other. Eventually, she drew closer, her shoulder brushing his as she attempted to peek at the back of the book.

“Does it sound interesting?” she questioned.

He shook his head, instantly settling it back on the table. Protesting, she squirmed her arm around him to snatch it up.

“No fair. I didn’t get to see.”

“You don’t need to.”

“A friend would let me,” she quipped.

Kakashi stilled, pursing his lips slightly at the idea. Taking advantage of the reaction she’d known she’d get, she quickly skimmed the back of the book, almost reaching the end before he plucked it from her hands.

“A friend would keep you ignorant of the contents of this book,” he announced. “Nice try.”

Instead of getting mad like he thought she would, Miki simply grinned.

“Friends. It sounds nice.”

Surprised, he studied her for a moment, wondering why such a small thing would make her so happy. Giving up only a second later, he sighed and stepped away from the bookshop before starting down the street. When he didn’t hear footsteps behind him, he paused and glanced back.

“Aren’t you coming? If you’re so bored…”

“I am! I’m coming!” she replied instantly and hurried to catch up.

“You sound so excited…”

“That’s because you invited me somewhere,” Miki informed him.

Kakashi was silent for a moment, shoving both hands in his pockets. A second later a small smile flitted across his face as he shrugged and turned his attention to the walkway in front of them.

“You’re so easy to please.”

A/N: Nice to see you guys again! Thought I'd put this up since I had the sudden urge to work on it. This won't be updated near as often as the other stories, probably, but it exists, that's a start! Hope you liked the first chapter in Colorless! Feel free to make any suggestions for things you might like to see in the plot arc wise, because at the moment the only plan is the chuunin exams! See you eventually!