A/N: So, I had other stuff I was supposed to be working on, but then all those spoilers from The Last went and happened. I couldn't help it, I had to write some NaruHina. Spoilers up to manga Chapter 700 and The Last, obviously.
Playlist: The Joy of Motion - Animals as Leaders, Syro - Aphex Twin.
The First
Naruto had felt concern for his friends many times before. It made sense, given what generally made up their line of work. Dangerous, life or death situations, decisions made within a fraction of a second, these were ordinary parts of a ninja's day to day life. As someone who cared dearly for those close to him, it naturally made sense that Naruto would be worried.
Though somehow, with Hinata it had always been different. The concern he felt for her sake seemed to be on a whole other level, and for the longest time, he had never been able to figure out why. The sensation that plagued him was much more intense, the dread that pulled upon his heart more draining, mentally, emotionally.
When he was younger, he hadn't thought that these feelings had any particular significance. He supposed they were because he saw a person in Hinata, who was much like himself. Someone who had been pushed down but always tried their best, striving to prove themselves and overcome any doubts placed upon them. He emphasised with her. Maybe he was biased because of their shared a nindo and wanted to see her live on, succeeding in fulfilling her dreams. It certainly couldn't be because he doubts about her strength or abilities, as she had more than proven them to him on more than one occasion.
No, there was something more to it than that.
He could recall during the war, when Pein had tried to kill her; coming very close to succeeding. She had fought so valiantly that day, standing before an almost certain death without fear, without trepidation, all to protect him. The sight of her body crumbling, falling, lying prone and motionless, elicited an anger inside of Naruto unlike anything he had experienced before. It was a deep-seated, seething rage impossible for him contain, great enough even to awaken the Kyuubi from within him. It was the audacity of Pein to do something so horrible, so despicable to someone like Hinata. Kind-hearted, shy Hinata, the last person in the world who deserved such treatment. It was Naruto's anger at himself for, in his eyes, failing to protect a friend and the resurfacing of doubts that had been instilled in him through a lonely, isolated childhood: he did not deserve love, he did not deserve friends, he would not be able to fill void opened by the beast inside of him. His affliction, his stigma, would only ever bring harm to those who grew close to him. The memory alone was still torture to Naruto. Having to lie immobile, powerless to act, as he watched her life, for all he knew, being ripped away. Maybe it was the fact that he'd lived through that horror, that he'd come so close to losing her, that had led Naruto to become more conscious of his feelings, his concern for her.
More than anything, however, he could remember the relief that overtook him, the tightening of his throat and the moisture stinging at his eyes, as he realised that she was alright. Hinata had survived, after all. He had never known how to express his gratitude for her selfless act, or his pride over how bold and fearless she had been, how far she had grown as a ninja. Amidst a war raging, the safety of the village and their comrades at stake, an appropriate moment had never presented itself. In hindsight, he wished he could have found the time, somehow, some way, even just to say something to her. Words would never be enough to repay her, to adequately convey his gratitude, but surely it would have been better than nothing.
That same feeling returned to him, now that Hinata had been freed from the clutches of Toneri Otsutsuki, now that she was with him again and they could return home. Naruto rested his forehead against her own, his voice little more than a murmur. His heart rose in joy when he was able to hold her in arms, safe and secure. When he could feel her, touch her and know for certain that she was alright.
"Hinata, thank god."
Tears sprung in his eyes, overwhelmed by the relief that flowed through him. She had almost been lost again. He couldn't allow that to happen. His fingers thread through her hair, trailed delicately over her face, caressing her, as if searching for even the slightest hint of injury upon her body. As if something had somehow scarred her, hurt her, changed her. Yet, it was her words, her soft voice asking about his well-being that caught Naruto's attention more than now, she expressed more concern for someone else, than she did herself. This was still Hinata.
The thought of kissing her was not something that have ever crossed Naruto's mind before. She was had always been his friend, his comrade, even with these unique, ineffable feelings he harboured for her gripping at his heart. Yet somehow, in that moment, it felt like the most natural, obvious thing in the world to him. Her eyes were bright and shining, despite the traces of tears that still lingered in them. He was suddenly aware of how beautiful she was, and had always had seen her suffer, watched her, powerless, and on the brink on death. He had seen her crying, heartbroken, as her cousin's life slowly slipped away, and watched her silent; her normal, sunny disposition gone; as she worried for the safety of her younger sister. What had truly captivated Naruto about Hinata, was her ability to show strength and endure, even through her weakest, darkest moments. She had fallen, maybe even more times than he had, yet every time, no matter how heavily she was weighed down, Hinata had always stood back up again. Never giving up, never going back on her word.
She was in his arms, safe, so close after being torn so far from him. It only seemed to make sense that he offer her comfort, show her exactly how worried he had been and how relieved he was now to know that she was unharmed. Naruto had acted before he even had the chance to think, the impulse overtaking him. It was his nature, the exact thing that had guided him through his life, to the great respect he had attained and great skill he had developed over years of made sense, he supposed, that that unpredictably nature of his would eventually guide him to somewhere like her. A kind-hearted, courageous woman, willing to sacrifice herself for the safety of her sister, her friends, of him. Someone to counter his rambunctious personality. The one who had offered her love selflessly, unconditionally, even when he had been an outcast, even when he had been the environment he grew up in led him to believe that it maybe wasn't an emotion he was worthy or deserving of experiencing, that maybe he was better off alone. Simply for who he was, for the affliction that had been branded upon him the day of his birth.
The movement of her lips against his own seemed tentative at first, yet slowly grew braver, more fervent, a gesture describing so more of her than any words could. The resolve, the fierce passion that was cradled beneath her meek surface, the side of her she had first demonstrated to him the day she confessed her feelings. He could feel her hands trembling, steadying themselves against his back as she was relieved from years of anticipation, frustration, desire in that single steps she had taken, no matter how slow or frustrating, which had never strayed her from the path she followed patiently, leading her to the person in which she saw everything she admired and had always aspired to be.