Boy, what a fun weekend. Took a portrait drawing class and drew the cover to an original novel I'm working on. Spent hours making kimchee with a bunch of nice people and sang folk songs. Ate a lot of fennel and cilantro. Good times, good times. Hope you all are having a nice weekend out there in cyber space.

Thanks for all your nice reviews and pm's. They make me smile every time:)

And now, the moment you have all been waiting for:


"I've got a late night meeting with the council, babe—I won't make it to dinner tonight," Naruto says, grabbing his coffee cup from the kitchen table.

It's been a few days since Hinata's return. She has spent the whole time assuring herself that what she saw with her Byakugan-enhanced sight was just a lie. She hasn't forgotten the "bad dream," as she calls it, but she doesn't quite let herself remember it, either. Instead, she has stayed busy with work, with preparations for the new baby.

But when Naruto mentions a late night meeting, Hinata's fears all rush back to the surface, like a wave crashing into the shore at high tide. Only years of ninja training keep her shoulders from trembling as she stands over the sink, her back turned to him. She continues to wash the dishes.

"O-okay," Hinata stammers. "I'll m-miss you."

"I'll miss you too, hon. Love you!"

"L-love you…"

The door slams shut behind him. Hinata lowers a soapy dish back into the sink, staring at the suds for what feels like a long, long time.

#

Dressed in tight black clothing and perched on the fifth floor of an administrative building, Hinata feels a bit ridiculous. She feels about ten years old again, spying on her crush from behind a tree.

Biting her lower lip, Hinata gazes up at the waning gibbous moon, rising like a ghastly ship in the night sky. She takes a deep breath. Releases it slowly. Activates her Byakugan and peers straight into Naruto's office on the fifth floor of the Hokage's tower.

It's just as Naruto has said—six people sit around a table stacked high with papers. She counts the familiar chakra signatures: Tsunade, Shikamaru, a handful of Anbu. Hinata lets out a breath she hadn't realized she had been holding and sags against the wall.

She's about to head home, feeling silly and sheepish, when something catches her eye. It's like a ripple in a still pool, or a stitch out of place on the hem of an expensive dress—something isn't right. Funneling more chakra into her optical nerves, Hinata scrutinizes the scene in front of her, pokes at it like a tongue prodding a sore tooth. Testing the pain. Finding its weakness.

There! The genjutsu is familiar, but Hinata doesn't let herself remember where she's seen it before, even though it was only a few days ago; even though she knows. Swallowing thickly, she weaves chakra into a thin hook and slides it across the face of the illusion, picking it apart thread by thread—

Dizzy, Hinata breaks the jutsu. She leans against the wall, lest she fall down five stories. She wishes that she was not Kurenai's student and had never learned elite genjutsu techniques. She wishes she had stayed at home like a good, stupid wife.

She doesn't know what to do. She's lost. She clings to the ledge like a spider clutching its wind-blown web. Like the genjutsu, she feels her world unraveling. Thread. By thread.

#

Two Weeks later…

"What does he have that I don't?" Hinata mutters to herself, laying flat on a rooftop. In a minute, the obvious answer comes to her and she blushes until her cheeks burn.

She adjusts her black clothes and returns to staring through three walls, one armoire, and two sofas. She is watching Sasuke and Naruto. Again. They are yelling at each other—though Hinata can't hear the words, it's clear. After watching (stalking) Naruto and Sasuke for two weeks now, Hinata is no longer surprised that they do more fighting than…than that other thing they do. Though the fighting often leads to…well, nevermind, Hinata thinks, her blush redoubled.

Hinata can't figure out why they argue all the time. If they dislike each other so much, why spend so much time together? Hinata's countenance darkens. They see each other three times a week, but most of the time, they're miserable!

As if to prove her thoughts, at that moment Sasuke chucks a lamp at Naruto's head, who neatly dodges and throws a kunai at his assailant in turn.

Hinata deactivates her Byakugan. She can't watch this anymore. Outside, everything is quiet; a passerby wouldn't be able to hear a single shout or see an angry fist. But even without her Byakugan, Hinata can see it unfolding in her mind's eye—it's always the same with them.

First, Sasuke will sulk. Then Naruto will insult him to cheer him up. Either Sasuke will smirk, or he'll snarl and hurl a weapon—or in this case, furniture—at Naruto.

From there, there are only two possible outcomes:

One of them will storm out of the house, cradling a bruise (and possibly bruised pride), while the other will pout, or punch a wall, or scream inside the silent genjutsu.

Two: one of them will grab the other's hair and pull them in for a kiss—and another battle will start. One that Hinata does not need to watch, thank you very much.

Bulging belly pressed to the rooftop, Hinata waits to see what the outcome will be this time. To her relief, Naruto stomps out of the house and slams the door behind him, his teeth bared in a feral grimace. He has a black eye and a nasty looking gash on his arm.

"Unfeeling bastard," Naruto mutters. He stuffs his hands into his pockets and hobbles down the street. Hinata winces, wanting to help him, to ease his pain—but she does not move. She lies in silence until Naruto disappears down the street.

She turns her gaze to Sasuke who sits, hunched, by the window. His head is bowed. His hands are balled into shaking fists. Despite herself, Hinata feels sorry for him—sorry for Naruto and Sasuke both. Two war-orphaned children. Unloved. Misunderstood. Turning to each other to find scraps of comfort, or to let out pent up aggression.

With a start, Hinata realizes that she's not angry at Sasuke. Instead, she just feels…sad. Heavy. Like roiling storm clouds that never rain but continue to shroud the village on a summer night.

Before she can stop herself, she leaps down from the rooftop, jogs up to Sasuke's steps, and rings the doorbell.

She thinks about running away.

She turns to sprint down the street—

"What the hell do you—oh. Er. It's…you." Sasuke's angry shout ends in a confused yet annoyed mutter.

Hinata blinks up at him, standing as still and silent as a startled deer, fighting the urge to flee. His black eyes are like deep wells, Hinata thinks, peering up at him. And deep wells are dangerous: they hide secrets. You can fall into them and be swallowed by the darkness.

Hinata gulps, wiping her clammy palms on her pants. "C-can I…come in? P-please," she adds, belatedly.

Without blinking or saying a word, Sasuke steps back. For a moment, she thinks Sasuke might slam the door in her face—a part of her hopes that he will—but the door stays open. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Hinata tip-toes inside…


Aw yeah, shit is going to hit the fan. Will update next weekend, universe willing! In the meantime, thanks for reading, and please review:)