My One in a Million
Chapter Three:
Sasuke glared at the empty shelf in front of him, the basket that hung off his arm was empty save a bag of tomatoes. "How can there be no pasta?" He growled at the empty space. "Noodles, ramen, rice, but no pasta." Maybe if he glared hard enough, a pasta package would materialize out of thin air so he could take it.
He hated cooking, but also hated Ichiraku's ramen and was too proud to sit for a free meal with the rest of Konoha's working population.
In the end, he decided to grab a bag of bread and a jug of juice before heading to the only counter. Seeing as this was the only convenient store currently open in the village, everybody did their shopping here and supplies didn't last long. It was Seven at night and not many were in line, but the guy at the front was wasting everyone's time by chatting with the clerk about the weather.
Sasuke sighed and watched the hair of the person in front of him dance in response, and as if slapped with a wet towel, he realized that the one girl he'd been avoiding the whole time was standing right in front of him.
It's been weeks since he'd last seen her, why did she have to be here now? Oh, right, she probably hadn't noticed he was there, she'll just get her basket unloaded, pay for her stuff, and then go home.
Right.
He didn't want to see her or talk to her or think about her, everything about her annoyed him.
She was hard to understand.
Her body was difficult to evaluate because of the baggy, unflattering clothes she wore everyday.
She was the daughter of the one person who agreed to loan the Hokage his whole clan in order to accompany him on a ghost hunt outside Konoha. Of course, that said a lot about the clan leader's dedication to keep the village safe, but it said nothing about him coming back alive.
There was also the fact that the few times he and Hinata ever met, they'd always get into some argument; it was a waste of his time.
His eyes studied the long hair that trailed down her gray shirt, the edges were cropped straight but were slightly damp. No wonder, it's been raining nonstop for a while now. Her shirt stopped mid-thigh where an even uglier pair of track pants covered her legs to the ankles.
If one looked at her now, they would never believe she's the spoiled princess of the village's most obnoxious clan.
A small bag in her loaded basket caught his attention, and he tilted his head slightly to read what was visible on the translucent container: pasta.
He had to take a deep breath then breathe out slowly, twice.
He hated Irony.
Hinata stepped forward as the guy at the front finally got his bag and left and the line proceeded; he followed.
What to do?
If he asked her to give it to him, it'll seem desperate and intrusive; he didn't want to strike up conversation unless he absolutely had to. But then again, he'd been eating ramen and rice all month and today, when he finally decided to satisfy the craving for tomato pasta, they were fresh out of pasta.
Suddenly, the girl turned slightly to look him in the eye. "Sasuke san, it's been a while." She greeted softly, as if she wasn't sure she should be talking to him.
"Mm." Ignore her? Or get the pasta? "Pretty empty store, huh?"
Her smile was unsure. "Yes. I- Is there something wrong with my basket?"
Damn it, of all the people in the world, he had to get in line behind someone with eyes on the back of their head. "Not really."
"I see…" She turned away and was quiet.
What's this? He thought, is this a trick? She pretends she isn't interested in talking to him so he would feel inclined to talk to her more? Is this how girls played hard to get these days?
He wasn't interested in love games so he decided to not analyze the situation further. Ha! Take that princess!
The weird thing is, he didn't attempt to talk to her; and she actually seemed okay with that. Sasuke watched the clerk unload the items from her basket and pass them across the machine before stuffing them into a plastic bag. Garlic, Onion, tomatoes, pasta, lettuce, a large bottle of water and a tissue box.
With growing disappointment, he watched her pay the clerk and carry the bags outside.
It wasn't a game; she really didn't spare him a glance.
But she's a Hyuuga, he thought, for all her knew she could have been staring at him the whole time.
He paid for his few items quickly and exited, unfolding his umbrella and noticing Hinata struggle with hers. "Need help?" He said, not really intending to help as much as testing the waters.
She glanced up. "No, thank you."
"Those look heavy." He stepped closer.
"Sasuke san…" She sighed, her breath white. "I- I can tell, you've been…"
He froze.
"A- Avoiding me, because of my father." Her smile was apologetic. "I understand. You don't really…" Her brows furrowed while she searched for the right words. "I'm sorry it's making your life difficult! Please disregard me and I will not get in your way!" She gave him a hasty bow and rushed away, still struggling with her umbrella until it finally snapped open.
"I thought you had your own chef." He caught up to her under the rain, watching her hair sway left and right in her quick pace home.
"D- Don't follow me, please!"
"I live that way, too."
"Oh…"
"So you don't have a chef?"
"We do." Eventually, she gave up trying to out-walk him and fell into step, she kept her head down to avoid puddles.
"So why isn't he doing the shopping? Why is the Hyuuga princess out in the rain buying tissue boxes and onions?"
"I'm Nineteen." She said matter-of-factly. "I can cook my own food."
And others', apparently, since she was assigned the kitchens. "Why are you?"
"Wh- Why am I what?"
"Even if you can cook, doesn't mean you should. So why are you?"
She sighed quietly. "My father doesn't like foreign food and my sister is staying at a friend's house. There's no reason to trouble the chef if I'm the only one eating, she deserves some time off, too." She shifted the bags to her other hand in order to hold the umbrella upright so that it didn't bump into his.
"She?" He snorted. "Your chef's a woman? She's a mistress, isn't she?" He shot her a knowing look; she just kept her head down and said nothing. "So basically you're free all night?"
She stopped suddenly. "W- Why do you ask?"
Sasuke glanced ahead to where he could see the top of his apartment complex above the rooftops. "We're both making pasta, and we're both free. We could use my kitchen."
She blinked repeatedly. "I'm sorry…"
He rolled his eyes. "You bought the last package, genius."
She looked down at her bags, reached inside and extracted the pasta package. She offered it without looking him in the eye. "Y- You can have it."
His nose flared. "Like I said before, I don't need charity."
"Then…" She shivered into a stiff shrug. "Then pay me if you must."
The wheels in his head turned. "You're supposed to say: Alright, I'll cook for you. Or: Here, it's a gift because It was selfish of me to buy the last package even though I knew supplies won't be in till next month." His eyes narrowed in suspicion. "What's the catch?"
Below long, thick bangs, he could see her biting her lower lip. "I- I'm not good at this." She finally looked up, eyes as white as a sheet but still brimming with emotion. "Reading between the lines o- or double meanings, I can't do any of that. Please, if you want it, just take it; it doesn't h- have to mean anything."
The cogs stopped turning. For a long moment there was nothing on his mind but the sound of rushing rain on dirt, the splashing droplets on the translucent pasta package and the slightly visible veins on the inside of her wrist.
He reached out and took the pack; without words she bowed, turned away and ran straight towards the intersection that led to her home. He glared down at the item in his hand and wondered how a person like her, who took everything at face value, didn't try to manipulate others and was unnecessarily nice to everyone, managed to survive the Great Ninja War with their humanity still attached.
Suddenly, he didn't feel like eating anything at all.