"Thank you, Hinata-chan." Her smile was genuine, if tired. Exhaustion haunted her eyes, alongside a grim satisfaction. Three lives had been saved, tonight. They may die come morning, but tonight? Tonight they were alive.
"You're welcome, Sakura-san." Hinata's voice wavered, not out of shyness or a lack of surety, but an exhaustion similar to Sakura's own. The eldest daughter of the branch family was taxed, and in ways she wasn't used to. She'd felt awkward when the call had come for her this morning - she was not a medical shinobi, nor did she ever aspire to. Realistically, Hinata knew she wouldn't be able to handle the pressure. Even on a battlefield, where the medical shinobi were to avoid being hit, a Hyuuga was to be in the midst of things, doing the hitting.
It was her duty.
"You both need to eat something before you collapse." Tsunade's words were final. Sakura nodded her assent, knowing better than to argue. Hinata would have stammered a reply had Tsunade not nodded to her and turned on heel, Shizune appearing in the hall with clipboard in hand.
The last mission had been disastrous. The second recovery team sent out carried back the first, the original members still missing - hostages, probably. Intelligence believed the Mist had been involved, but there was both a lack of proof and motive. They weren't strong enough to challenge Konoha alone, and they had their own reasons not to ally with the Sound.
So then why?
Hinata didn't know, and it wasn't that lack which disturbed her as much as concern for the people she knew. She didn't want to hear of any of her friends going missing.
Or even her own team. Hinata still wondered, at times, if she slowed them down. She knew how she had before, but was she still dead weight? If so, she was dangerous, and she didn't want her teammates in danger.
"Are you much for ramen, Hinata-chan?" She looked up at Sakura, smiling wanly, able to meet her eyes.
"Ah, yes. Ramen sounds nice, Sakura-san."
Sakura smiled at her, a bit more warmly. "Sakura-chan, Hinata-chan."
"Sakura-chan," Hinata repeated, blushing slightly. She always felt like she was intruding, being so familiar with others. Even if she'd come to respect Sakura as a kunoichi, a medical nin, and perhaps most, a woman, she still felt the familiarity was improper.
Hinata knew, almost before Sakura did, where they would end up. Sakura would swear, sometimes, the ramen shop Naruto used to visit with such fervency stayed open in hopes of drawing the youngster home with the tantalizing scent of his favorite food. So far, it had not brought Naruto forth, but tonight there were pieces of him between Sakura and Hinata.
There were other, more fragmented pieces, but Hinata could barely sense them - understanding them was beyond her. They had a name, however, she could recognize. Sasuke.
They sat in silence, comfortably. Lately, Hinata had begun to feel more at ease around Sakura, enough so to be sure in her soft fashion, share her little joys and humors. It had been strange, this friendship yet not quite. Hinata had never been close to another woman before - she was too easily intimidated. Sakura didn't intimidate her any less before. Yet there had been a growing kindness, and calmness, which had made her more approachable.
Hinata didn't mind helping out her crush's crush. Competition, as it was between Ino and Sakura those years ago in Academy, never occurred to Hinata. Sakura didn't seek Naruto as Hinata did, though neither of them could, had they wanted to. He hadn't returned yet, and Hinata could sense the curling desperate hope Sakura fought to hide each time she saw her. Some weeks, it was worse. Others, Sakura was too busy to realize time was passing.
Sakura leaned forward on her elbows. "They won't last the week," she said, calmly. Her face was composed, if you ignored the slightly down-turned corners of her mouth and the rapid blinking of her eyes. "We've taken the pain away, but the damage to the motor functions..."
Hinata didn't know what to say. This was why, in part, she could never do Sakura's work. She didn't have the drive, the need to touch people in ways so personal. Still, she felt compelled to do, to say something. As simply as when Naruto had confessed his doubts before facing her cousin, a few words could suffice. Only Sakura's opponent was much larger, less tangible than Neji. Death recognized no genius.
Her hand rested on Sakura's arm, too unsure to squeeze reassuringly, hoping the warmth of human flesh against her own would be enough. Hinata tried to think of words. She wasn't close, not really, to Sakura. Ino, probably, would be better now. "You give them time, Sakura-chan," Hinata urged, flustered, forcing herself to speak. "I'm... I'm sure their loved ones thank you for that small time."
Sakura said nothing, staring forward. One of her hands fell over Hinata's, squeezing tightly. Hinata blushed, biting back a squeak. Sakura probably didn't realize her own strength, but Hinata endured it. She was embarrassed, but she didn't say a word, regarding Sakura with wide, silvered eyes.
"Thank you, Hinata-chan," Sakura said softly, abruptly letting go. Hinata felt warm, as if a glow of strength and goodwill came with her hand as she returned it to her lap, acutely uncomfortable, then acutely relaxed. It was strange. The strangeness stuck with her as she bowed her head in farewell, wishing the other woman a good evening as her feet turned homeward. That evening, the Hyuuga complex didn't feel stifling. For one of the few times in her life, it felt like a place of contemplation, and a hard-earned peace.
Hinata didn't pause to wonder why she could smile at Sakura after that, be glad of her company in the brief breaks in Sakura's studies that were not claimed by other, more industrious friends. She didn't think twice about the slight upward tilt to her chin that helped her meet people eye to eye before she looked away, for the first time recognizing everyone by face rather than foot first. Nor did she wonder why, with Naruto's return, when the familiar panic took over her, and she felt unable to breathe, she most wanted to ask Sakura if she'd squeeze her hand and give her a piece of that strength she'd felt before. It was only later that she'd realize the strength had been hers all along - growing from the day she'd first set foot in the Chuunin Exam room and blooming under the hand of a friend who was not quite a friend - but perhaps something more.