A/N: This fic is KisamexHinata, written while listening to Haunted, Innocent and Ronan by Taylor Swift over and over again. Hence the darkness. Enjoy.
Hinata liked picking herbs by moonlight because she was away from all those prying eyes. She liked picking them by moonlight because the moon bathed everything in silver. She liked picking herbs by moonlight because she was mostly alone in her garden.
She liked picking herbs in the moonlight because he was there, watching, in all his glorious blue skin, shadowed gills, and fluttering black robes.
She liked the way he would sometimes follow her, shadowing her footsteps without a sound, putting his smooth hand-the first time, she was surprised, because she thought they would be rough like a shark's- over hers and pulling weeds for her. But always silently. And Hinata loved this serenity that lasted until a few hours before dawn, when she had to go back inside.
And with a swish of cloth on cloth, the only sound he ever made, he would disappear into the night.
"Hello," Hinata would greet whoever was sent to fetch her a few hours before dawn. It was usually Neji.
"Hello, Hinata-sama," they would murmur and bow, eyes on the piles of fresh dirt, or heaps of weeds. They would pretend not to notice her knees, covered in dirt, her hands, that smelled like cloves or mint or saffron, and the footsteps that were obviously not hers. "Would you like to come inside now, before Hiashi-sama gets up?"
No, she wanted to say. I don't want to. I want to stay here and watch him, and have him watch me. I want to be with him, all night. I want to be with him all day, too. I want to be with the one I love. And every morning, she would be startled by the fact that she did love him.
"Of course," she would say, and follow them inside. She would cast longing glances back at the hovering shadow a shade darker than the night on top of the Hyuga walls.
Hanabi always watches her pick herbs until her eyelids droop and she collapses into her bed. She wakes up at sunrise and groans.
Missed it again, she thinks. still don't know who that person is; the person who always watches nee-san.
She watches night after night after night.
Finally, she catches a glimpse. It is dark in the winter, and snow is falling and sticking to her window and building up into drifts on top of Hinata's hibernating garden. Even on these nights, she is not in her bedroom. Hinata is out in her shed with a fire burning and mortar and pestle out to make medicine. On these nights, she invites him inside, and Hanabi sees a flash of a red cloud against a black background, and dark blue hair outlined against the bright window.
The next morning finds her sleeping in the library under a pile of bingo books.
Betrothed.
The word echoes in her ears, again and again and again. She manages to hold her tears in until the meeting is over.
You are eighteen now. Of marriageable age. Even to Hinata, who never judges, her father's voice is uncaring, cold. There is a rich family wiling to unite. Your marriage will be in one week.
Her tears flow in her garden that night.
"Hinata," he finally speaks. It's the first time she's heard his voice. It's rough, but to her it's like velvet. "Please don't cry." He doesn't have to ask what's going on. He knows everything about her.
His arms wrap around her and finally, she gets to feel his chapped lips on her eyelids, cheeks, neck, tears. Mouth. It's the first time she's felt those, too. She's always wondered what they felt like. They feel warm, soft, gentle. They feel right.
There's a lot of firsts that night. And they repeat them the next night, and the next.
He gives her little things collected from travels after, and she tells stories, their breath mingling as they lay close in each other's arms.
The moon is the only witness to their love.
On the night before her wedding, Hinata already expected him to not be waiting there. It still hurt, though, when she searched the empty darkness. He wasn't watching, not anymore.
She suppose it was for the best. She probably couldn't go through with the marriage if he was still here.
I don't want to do my duty, she thought, burying her face in her hands. I only want him. I don't want to... I don't want to... she repeated again and again.
She raised her head an hour later, her face composed. I will be strong, she told herself. I will be Hyuga.
She almost broke down again when she saw the little fish necklace he had given her the night before.
His hands longed to touch her face on that last day.
His feet longed to walk forward the few steps it took to reveal himself.
His lips longed to kiss her.
His whole being longed for her when Hinata took her vows. His whole being felt wracked with guilt when he saw his longing mirrored in her perfect face, just for a moment. I was selfish.
He finally pulled away before they kissed. He couldn't bear to watch.
But he was obsessed with her life. He shadowed her almost everywhere, watching her put her herbs aside. He watched her put away her shinobi clothes and don her kimonos. And though were made perfectly, exquisitely, he secretly preferred her old sweatshirt. It made her look innocent.
He finally left when he heard joyful exclamations of, "The lady is pregnant!" ringing through the compound.
Wolves are very much like sharks, he mused as he put Samehada in the trees before jumping down to face the pack. They started circling as soon as he landed.
Their eyes had the same sharp glint, their teeth the same white gleam. The wolves' hair stood on end as they examined him.
This deep in the forest, he wouldn't be found until weeks, maybe months had passed.
He cut his hand slowly, deliberately. The same hand he had used to touch her that first time. He smeared the blood onto his chest.
Yes, wolves are very much like sharks, he thought as they attacked.
As the light and pain faded from him, he saw a perfect image of her blushing face and innocent eyes.
A/N: Review?