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ˈasəm(p)ˌtōt/
noun: asymptote; plural noun: asymptotes
a line that continually approaches a given curve but does not meet it at any finite distance.
There is never a hello.
It's ironic considering they've known each other the longest out of any other in their group of friends. The first time they meet, their respective families are present at a meeting with a handful of representatives from other noble clans to discuss the event of her attempted kidnapping. She's three, he's almost four. Both children are hidden behind their mothers' legs, her out of shyness and him out of fear (because girls have cooties, of course), and they exchange little more than curious stares covered by their matching fringe.
"I'm glad you're home safe, Hinata," his mother says kindly before nudging her son. "Do you have anything you want to say, Sasuke?"
He averts his gaze to the ground and tightens his grip on her skirt, pale cheeks flushing an even lighter pink despite his obvious attempts at hiding his embarrassment.
"Yeah," he mumbles. "Me too."
That's the end of their interaction. He's whisked away by his elder brother (or rather the other way around) and she finds herself once again sitting quietly beside her younger sister as their father speaks with his peers. They're too young to remember when they first learned each other's name (they see each other at such gatherings often enough to assume that they just knew), too young to say anything more than what their parents encourage them to ("don't forget to say please!"), too young to have an opinion on the other aside from what they've heard from other people (which, considering they're only kids, really wasn't much).
They're too young to even realize just how much they had in common, with the exception of one striking difference: she's the eldest daughter of Hyūga Hiashi, and as such, heir to one of the most powerful houses in Konohagakure. And perhaps it is because they are so young that no one could have guessed he'd soon be the same.
At the age of twelve what little else they know of each other is not so much anything they hear about than it is what they care enough to observe. He knows she's shy by the way she constantly stutters. She knows he's popular by the hoards of girls lining up at his feet. Likewise, he knows she cares for his knuckle-headed teammate, and she knows that, although he would never admit it, he cares for him all the same.
It's hardly rocket science. Uzumaki Naruto is simply one of the things they would always have in common, and truthfully, the only one that has enough significance to bring them together. For a while, that's the extent of their relationship; she is his closest ally's secret admirer and he is her unrequited love's dearest friend. Then comes that fateful day.
Hinata hears the news no less than an hour after the retrieval squad leaves for their mission.
Uchiha Sasuke is a traitor.
This doesn't affect her in the same way it does someone like Sakura, who is left broken long after her teammate's betrayal, or even Ino, who sheds her own fair share of tears because of the boy. Hinata isn't his teammate, nor is she his friend. The two could barely be considered acquaintances. All that holds them together is their bond with Naruto, and when the latter returns physically and mentally beaten and bleeding and bruised, she knows that tie no longer exists.
Hinata almost hates him for it. Not because of him leaving, specifically, but because of the results of his actions and three instances in which she yearns for an explanation, for someone to blame: when she holds Kiba's hand in comfort as Akamaru lays barely breathing before his surgery, when her cousin is carried into the emergency room in critical condition just inches from death, and when the boy she is in love with loses the spark in his eyes that has never once wavered until that day, because to Naruto, losing Sasuke means losing a part of himself.
More than anything, she wants to hate him.
But she doesn't. It isn't in her nature to hold grudges after all, and despite the odds that urge her to do otherwise, she tries her best not to judge the avenger for his sins. Naruto, of course, plays a large part in this—for as long he believes in his teammate she would do the same—but unbeknownst to most, there is another instance in which her faith in the Uchiha is solidified by his own actions, not by Naruto or anyone else.
A couple of years after she last sees him, she's on a floating ship with a handful of civilians mere seconds away from being blown to bits while Naruto plays hero, risking his own safety for the sake of theirs. To her surprise, however, it's not him who sets them free.
"Sasuke-kun?"
"Shut up," he mutters in reply, throwing another passenger over his shoulder and into the boat.
Another life saved.
There's no time for her to thank him, no time to even think about why he's doing this or why he's even there in the first place, but she decides at that moment that her belief in him hasn't been misplaced. That is, perhaps, the first thought she has of him that's all her own. When they finally fall, she doesn't care that there is never a goodbye.
It's Tuesday afternoon and Sasuke sits inside Ichiraku Ramen, left cheek propped onto a closed fist as he waits boredly for Naruto to arrive to yet another one of their lunch dates. The blonde isn't late—not yet, anyway—but there's nothing to do at home and Sakura constantly pesters him to get fresh air at least twice a day, so he figures there's no harm in being early.
Fortunately the restaurant is rarely busy on weekdays, at least until the evening when civilians and shinobi alike are free to have a casual night out for dinner. It's relatively empty aside from him and a handful of other customers. A breeze ruffles the curtains behind him. He supposes it's nice to escape the heated stares.
Naruto assures him people no longer look, but Sasuke is far from stupid. Although his whiskered teammate had been quick to trust him again, assuming that he ever stopped, he knows that not everyone is nearly as forgiving. He is well aware of the wide-eyed glances and frantic whispers that follow him wherever he goes, and he accepts it, because he knows it is his punishment. Sasuke thinks it's for the better; never has he particularly been a people person, and after two weeks of being back in Konoha, he realizes that that much has not changed.
Ironically, he finds solace in the least likely of places: none other than Ichiraku Ramen itself. He initially receives the same treatment from the staff and other customers as he does from the rest of the villagers, but an outburst from a furious Naruto just a few days earlier manages to silence the murmurs and avert even the most accusing of glares. Sasuke remembers rolling his eyes and letting out an exasperated sigh, though in truth he is grateful to have someone still care despite it all.
After another few minutes of waiting, he decides that there's no harm in eating first, since he's certain the blonde—who is late now—would be slurping down noodles long after he is finished with his meal regardless. He's just about to place his order when someone quietly calls his name.
"Hello, Sasuke-kun."
He tenses and whirls around immediately, the voice and chakra signature not quite familiar to him, granted the only ones who ever come this close to him when he is without Naruto or Sakura are Naruto and Sakura themselves. The muscles in his shoulders relax when he recognizes the Hyuuga heiress sitting a few seats away from him. Sasuke stares at her, quiet and calculating, before he remembers his manners and nods curtly in return.
"Hinata," he says. Her name sounds almost like a question as it slips from his tongue, one that she answers with the slightest curl of her lips. "Hello."
The quiet chatter in the background fills the silence that would have surely enveloped them otherwise. Sasuke takes the time to ponder why she is speaking to him in the first place. She's not Lee, who would have felt obliged to say hi, or Kiba, who would have perhaps challenged him to a friendly spar, and she is most certainly not Sakura or Naruto. He thinks, maybe, that it's just her nature to be polite, and as he looks back to the very few instances in which he had taken notice of her in the past, he settles for that thought.
"It's been a while, hasn't it?" she says finally, and her words remind him that this is the first time he's seen her since returning. Sasuke prepares himself for the small talk concerning his absence, not that he really cares anymore. He's grown accustomed to the questions of those brave enough to approach him. How are you? he expects mostly. Nice to see you, welcome back, where's Sakura? Where's Naruto?
She says none of that.
"I'm glad you're home safe," Hinata murmurs.
Sasuke glances at her, his head tilting slightly in subtle surprise, and for a moment he remembers the girl he met for the first time so long ago. Meek, fragile, nothing more than a name. Even now her voice is a mere whisper in the wind, so quiet that even his superior hearing struggles to pick it up, but the smile on her face is genuine and there is no trace of uncertainty on her face. He doesn't remember enough about her to notice any changes in her physical features aside from her once short hair, which, he muses, is now longer than even Sakura's had been, but he can acknowledge that she is not the same girl he once knew.
Or sort of knew.
He doesn't feel guilty for being unfamiliar with her. In the three years he's been away the girl before him has never once crossed his mind, which he doesn't feel guilty admitting either because he knows there's no reason to dwell on someone he's spoken to maybe twice in his life. But then another second passes and he's briefly reminded of another Hyuuga, albeit taller and obviously male, and the thought causes Sasuke to wonder if only for a moment how she's doing, if she's okay.
It's such a human response that he almost voices aloud how thankful he is to her for having elicited it, for having proven that he is still very much a person capable of caring and no longer the monster that so many others make him out to be. Almost, of course, because although he finds it in himself to care, he still can't find it in himself to enjoy simple conversation. Instead he shrugs and brilliantly manages a reply.
"Yeah," he says. "Me too."
note
I'm a supporter of SasuSaku through and through, but my friend jokingly dared me to write something about this pairing and I happened to accept the challenge.