Naruto (ナルト?) is an ongoing Japanese manga series written and illustrated by Masashi Kishimoto. Copyrights belong to him.

The first thing that caught Hinata's eyes were the ramen cups laying around his apartment. Not just on the table, but some sit on the floor, innocently enough, as if it's just been there for a while, but the stench says otherwise. Naruto goes on, rambling about how he's been meaning to clean up but haven't gotten the time to do so, flustering and twiddling his hair by his hands. She sees behind him a potted plant that's beginning to wilt, and it occurred to her that he's never the one for flowers or leafy plants. By chance it could be Sakura's insistence, although Hinata's fairly certain that Naruto has never allowed female company over before her.

Funnily enough, she's strangely calm. A year ago, the mere thought of being in alone with him in his house both scared and fascinated her, but maybe it's the hurting she's feeling that pushes out all those other emotions, leaving them as silly notions. Since Neji had passed, it was hard to do anything else; the lost of her cousin and protector racked grief that could not be explained.

Still, the war has ended and life goes on. Naruto's a hero, and although it's been well agreed on, he has a long way to go still before becoming Hokage. He had to pass the chuunin test, then go off to be a Jounin and still a more powerful one at that. Add this to numerous tutoring and tasks from Tsunade, and a surge of popularity from the villagers, it was hardly surprising that he has dark circle around his eyes. All the while, he's blushing and laughing in that nervous sort of way, testing the waters like a newborn babe.

"It's not much, but make yourself at home." He gestures around, helplessly, before remembering the ramen cups and comic books laying around, his dying plant, and a thin layer of dust that managed to settle on his shelf. He scrambles to get a trash bag, and hollers for her to sit, sit anywhere, really. So she settles on his bed as he comes back, trash bag at hand, hurriedly shoving any junk his hands can find.

"Naruto, let me help-"

"Nah, I got this-"

But despite his protesting, she does it anyway, and fingers touch. He jumps back, gives off something a little bit like a yelp. It's very quiet so she pretends not to notice. What she focus on instead are the little things: his hunching form, his clothes the are fading around the edges, and his numerous amount of instant ramen noodle cups.

There are so many; even with the speed they're at, picking them off the floor, there seemed to be bits they just happened to miss. One by his lamp, some underneath his kotatsu, and yet another hiding in his bathroom, where he keeps his toilet paper. At home, she was never allowed to eat such thing. For the heir of the Hyūga clan, only be the finest meals shall be given. All the same, it gets lonely, eating by herself on the dining table, with only servants as company. She knew they stayed only to serve her, and when each meal was over and gone, so were they.

She looked over her shoulder, at Naruto scratching his head while holding a ramen cup he found underneath his bed. He must have been lonely too. For days that stretched on to years, probably sitting there with the kind of meal you boil with hot water and wait two minutes for.

At least she had Sundays. Those were the only days of the week she had the company of Neji around in the evenings, when they sipped tea and enjoyed the stillness of silence. But now Neji was gone, and so were the Sundays that meant something.

She only had one person, but Naruto never had anyone to return home to. Why, Hinata wonders, was I ever so crazy to be around him? The boy who lived alone eating meals by himself. Why do I still chase after him? Truth is, she wants attention. Only his, though.

The comic books he has around are of the same variety. Usually with a male hero, and maybe one or two with a damsel in distress. She piles it unto his shelf while he's mopping the place up. Perhaps he reads it after a meal, or before he goes to bed. Nevertheless, she knows what it is for: a distraction. He probably does enjoy each story in all honesty, but reading such as this is to fill the gaps of time.

For a while, they can pretend to have the life they want.

They work together for two hours in silence. There is something distinctively domestic about this, and for a while she didn't want to break the spell. At late noon the place is spotless. It's around that time she has to go home, so he offers to escort her back.

It's strange. Today she went on a mission, successfully completed it with her team, made a pit stop to Naruto's apartment and cleaned it up with him. It's funny because now she questions her action and it's spontaneous impact. When Naruto opened the door, he looked like a fish out of water. At this memory, she laughs.

"What's so funny?" He stopped waving at a civilian and looked down at her.

"Nothing," she replies, but maybe it's everything. He gives her a look that states, Hinata, you are weird sometimes. Because of this, she tells him. "You."

He ponders about this for three seconds. When it's clear he can't work it out, he leaves it alone.

They both know her feelings for him - it's no secret. Hinata strongly believes it's because of this that she is no longer shy around him. Naruto highly suspects her to be right.

They've reached her gate. Smoke was coming up from the chimney, signaling the cooks are at work. Naruto's at lost of what to do; he's never taken a girl home before. His hands are a mess and his hair had hardly been touched by a comb today. He wants to get out fast, because for whatever reason, Hinata was making him really, really nervous -

"So, uh, goodnight and everything." He laughs, already shuffling away.

Hinata thinks about the rice, fish and other splendid dishes that would be laid out in front of her in a short while. Then about all those instantaneous cups of ramen. Something about it struck her with waves of sadness. Loneliness is what they can both relate to. She didn't want him to have to be that way again, not ever.

"Naruto?" Her voice comes out stronger than she could ever hope for.

He twists back, attentive.

"Let's have dinner together."

Fin