She Holds the Cards
Part II: The Name They Grew to Know
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.
"Hinata."
That name trembled through the bookshelves of the library, rattling, drifting over her head. Sat there on the rough carpet, back pushed against a shelf, a few books scattered around her, she felt as if she had just been caught. Which was weird because she wasn't hiding - not totally. If she were hiding, she would not even be at school, let alone in the library, where she spent most of her early mornings. If she were hiding, she'd maybe wear a hat or a mask or something to make herself less noticeable.
It wasn't hiding that she was doing, necessarily, but avoiding.
But when that name came and fire struck her heart, she knew that it was stupid to think she could avoid him of all people.
Because Sasuke Uchiha, for the past few days, seemed to only come in two situations:
1) When she least expected it; or
2) When she most expected it.
And, to her dismay, it was both.
...
He stood there like a tower.
It made her uneasy.
But more so did his shadowy eyes that bore into her - at all of her - at her white face and crouched posture and baggy eyes - but mostly at her hair. Her uneven, unkept, unattractive hair that stuck around like a phantom in her bathroom back home. Hinata shrunk under that heavy, immovable gaze, wondering, wiggling, holding her breath.
She must have become like everyone else, curious and wondering what he had to say and why in God's name wasn't he saying it?
Lips turning down slightly, he crouched in front of her, falling to her eye level. "You don't have to say anything." When he did that, did he think he was more approachable? But if anything, Hinata felt more nervous. "I already know. It's because of Naruto, isn't it."
Her eyes widened. How . . . does he know that?
Was it because he was friends with Naruto? Did that somehow give him insight into her life? She knew during sophomore year, Naruto was struggling with a few things, and even when she was . . . still trying, she couldn't help him with everything. Surely, he'd go to one of his best friends to talk. And, maybe, somehow, he ended up talking about her.
She gave a weak nod, wondering how much he knew, exactly.
"Tch." Sasuke turned his sharp gaze to one of the books on the floor. "I don't get it."
Well, it couldn't have been everything.
Feeling claustrophobic (he was a bit too close), Hinata pulled all her belongings together, stuffed them into her backpack, and stood. "U-Um," she began, scooping some of the books off the floor and returning them to the shelf, "y-you said you got m-my number from N-N-Naruto. Why?"
He stood, as well, and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Because I wanted it."
Placing the last book on the shelf, she thought back to yesterday, to that tone. "B-Because," she whispered, looking over her shoulder and trying, with all her might, to meet his eye, "y-you were f-flirting with me, right?"
All that escaped him was the bat of an eye. He said nothing, and she wished she had said nothing. In the past, as short as a few weeks ago, the silence would have been a normal response for him. Expected, in some cases. But now, with how things were, all the silence made her feel was right - right about everything. And she didn't want that at all. Because even though this was Sasuke - cool, collected Sasuke - she could still feel Naruto somewhere beyond him, lingering. "I-I don't want N-Naruto to have m-my n-number." One step at a time, she left. Left the books, the library, him. It was harder than she expected. "And, um, I-I don't want y-y-you to have it, e-either."
The air buzzed. Other students began to stir inside. Her legs felt icy. Keep going, she told herself, feeling like she was going stiff with guilt. Don't look back.
But she did. She looked back and stopped.
Sasuke stared back, looking like he always did.
Like a wall. Like a statue. Like . . . not alive.
"Alright."
Winter escaped his mouth, and Hinata never thought she'd miss the warmth.
"Hinata!"
Neji marched up to her with Tenten and Ino hot on his trail. He looked angry, and she couldn't blame him; she'd snuck out and took the bus to school without telling him that morning. Anyone would be angry at that.
"What the hell did you do!?"
That, and, well . . . the hair didn't help, either.
Ino rushed out from behind her cousin, pulling out a comb from her round Chanel bag. "Who did this to you?" she all but screeched, grabbing Hinata's face and lifting her chin as she tried to comb her jagged hair, as if that would fix anything.
"She did," Neji answered bitterly before she could even open her mouth.
"What?" Tenten, next to him, had large, startled eyes. "Why?"
"U-Um." Her smile was shaky and unconvincing, but it was all she could come up with at the moment. "T-To try something n-new, I-I guess."
Ino clicked her tongue and snapped the comb on her head, not hard enough to hurt her, but enough to get the idea across. "This is nothing to joke about, Hinata. Whatever - whoever - made you decide to do this to your beautiful hair is borderline insane. Insane, Hinata."
Tenten's face swam with confusion, and then it seemed to hit her. "Don't tell me." Her eyes shined with regret. "It wasn't -"
"We're going home." A large, rough hand grabbed her wrist and pulled her away from Ino. Neji began to drag her down the hallway towards the large, glass doors that led out to the parking lot. "Your father will understand and make an appointment for someone to come . . . make you look more professional."
She knew what he was trying to say, what he meant to say. Though it had not always been that way, she and him were close. Hinata knew he cared about her. But despite her trying to push them away, those words stung hard and deep. Look more professional? Is that why he was angry - because she could potentially ruin the Hyuuga image?! Blinking her eyes and frowning, she snapped her wrist out of his grasp, startling him. "N-No thank you."
"Hinata, stop being stubborn."
Stubborn. He was right, and were it any other situation, that sentence alone would have broken her resolve. But fear was a driving factor of her bouts of stubbornness, and what she feared the most right now was going home and being in her room and being left there with nothing but her thoughts.
No, she couldn't do it. Even with the hair and the stares she will certainly get with it, Hinata would rather be at school than home.
"Neji." Tenten placed a hand on his stiff shoulder. "Let her stay."
"Yeah," Ino agreed. "Sure, it looks bad, but it's just hair. It can be fixed." She looked at Hinata, smile warm and reassuring. "And until then, I think I might have a hat that could help her."
Hinata returned the smile, thankful.
Neji pinched his nose before reluctantly nodding. "Just be careful," he told her, steely gaze pinning her down. "I don't want you to get hurt."
...
The trek to Ino's locker was longer than she thought it would be.
Probably because of all the stares she was getting.
"Don't worry, Hinata," Ino told her, standing in front of her. Being the taller one, she was able to block most of the curious stares. "Just ignore them and keep walking."
And she tried, but she wasn't used to this. Attention didn't come much to her. It's weight made her shoulders sink, and she wondered how Ino or Sakura or Tenten could have dealt with such a burden all their lives.
Upon arriving at the locker bay, Ino ran up to her locker and began messing with the lock. Hinata peeked behind the blonde and saw a few boys pass a foam ball between one another as they leaned against their lockers. When one of them caught her gaze, his eyes brightened, and she bowed her head and tried to shrink away.
"Hinata? Hey, Hinata! I need to see ya for a second!"
She could hear his footsteps approaching; they sounded like the timer on a bomb.
Ino, having finally unlocked her locker, glanced over at the boy, brow arched.
"Who are you?"
He smiled up at her before tilting his head to the side, trying to get a better look at the girl hiding behind her. "Just a classmate - Hinata and me are in English together. Right, Hinata?" She didn't know. She was so focused on not wanting to be there that she couldn't really place the face or the voice. "Ehh. You okay, Hinata? Hey - woah. The hell happened to your hair?"
Shit.
Ino slammed the door of her locker shut, glaring down at the boy. "Buzz off, will you? Can't you see we're busy?"
"O-Oh, sorry." The boy shuffled by, peering at Hinata over his shoulder. "I wasn't tryin' to be nasty or anything. I just wasn't expecting your hair to look so, er, weird."
Weird?
W . . . Weird?
...
"Y'know, I used to think you were kinda weird."
"Not weird weird, but, like quiet weird."
"And you are a bit quiet weird . . ."
"You are a bit quiet weird . . ."
"You are . . . weird."
...
"Shit - Hinata!"
...
Though she was self-conscious, it wasn't often for her to think that she was unpretty. When she looked in the mirror, she didn't cringe at what she saw. Actually, she was quite proud of her smooth, blue hair and round face. She liked her eyes and her ears. She thought her nose was in good proportion with the rest of her face and that her shoulders were nice and lean. She liked herself from the top of her head to the tips of her toes, thinking that every part of her made her her, made her Hinata.
But . . .
She also knew she was the type of pretty that had a dim glow, like a candle. And when compared to crystal chandeliers like Ino or Sakura or Tenten, she didn't really stand the chance.
No, Hinata didn't think she was unpretty, but she knew where she stood. In the stagnant middle, where change was rare and simplicity was expected.
...
"Hey, Hinata, can I borrow your - woah, braid!"
Ah, so he noticed.
Well, that was the plan, but Hinata still felt self-conscious about it. She had always kept her hair short, so when it was finally long enough to actually do something with it, she thought that maybe - perhaps - this could be her chance. To play around, sure, but mostly to get someone's attention.
And it worked.
But . . . what now?
Fiddling with her short braid that hung slightly over her right shoulder, she said, "I-I, um, thought I-I'd try something n-new." It was impossible to meet his eye, so she looked at her shoes instead, ears blazing. "I-I kinda . . . f-feel . . . I don't k-know. I-I don't think it l-looks very g-good."
"Hm? What are you talking about?" He leaned closer, smiling, burning her up with his body heat. "It looks fine to me! You look pretty."
Wait . . .
Wait.
"Y-Y-You -" She swallowed hard, tried to stabilize her breathing, and hid her trembling hands behind her back. "Y-You think I-I'm p-p-pretty?"
Naruto looked a bit confused for a moment, probably unfamiliar with her nervousness. She couldn't blame him. Usually, girls acting happier when they got compliments like that. "Of course I do, Hinata," he said, giving her shoulder a light, encouraging squeeze, completely oblivious to the sparks that it sent through her system. "You're pretty, Hinata - totally pretty! In your own, Hinata way."
...
But that was the problem. She didn't want to be pretty in her own way, always stuck in the middle. She wanted to be pretty in every way - like Sakura - like Ino - like Tenten.
...
Opening her eyes, the first thing she saw was yellow, a dash of blue, and an insufferable amount of orange.
But then she focused and realized it was really nothing but black.
"Hey."
Hot, startled, and flabbergasted, Hinata shot up, causing Sasuke to lean back to avoid knocking into her. They were still in the locker bay, but with a lot more people. Ino was a bit off behind Sasuke, standing tall and proud, platinum blond hair out of its usual ponytail and spread wildly over her shoulders. Even farther off in the distance was Tenten and Neji, some sort of complicated expression twisting their faces.
Dizziness made her loll, and she cradled her head in a hand before looking off to the other side. Huh? The boys with the football were glaring at her - or was it her way? And the one who had approached her - he leaned against the lockers, right eyes sporting a purple bruise and bottom lip split.
"Fuck you," he sneered. She wasn't really sure who that was directed to, but he was looking at her.
Sasuke moved next to her as Ino glared back, shoulders tense, looking like she was about to throw herself into a fight. What's happening? Hinata thought, vaguely feeling herself being lifted to her feet. Sasuke had a hand under her right arm and tugged her in the direction of the crowd. "We're going to the nurse," he said.
She was too dizzy and confused to protest. "What h-happened?"
He looked back, over his shoulder, at Ino. With a half-shrug, he said, "Something good, I'm sure."
"Oh, Hinata. What are we going to do with you?"
"I say she shaves it off! Can't ruin her own hair if she don't have any!"
Neji glared down at Hanabi, and Tenten laughed and pulled out her hair scissors from her apron. In the middle of the kitchen, Hinata sat on a stool, eying the box full of utensils and bottles that sat on the kitchen counter that her friend had brought with her. Tenten's mother owned her own hair salon, and if she weren't busy with clubs or wrestling, Tenten would help out at the store. The Hyuugas often used their services (it's no joke that hair is an important symbol of Hyuuga prosperity), and the main family had their very own hairdresser. That's how Hinata and Tenten had met, and how they'd grown so close to each other over the years.
"Just make it even," Neji interjected, staring at his cousin. "Don't cut it any shorter than it already is."
Tenten put a hand on her hip and frowned as she inspected Hinata's hair. "I'll try," she said, rolling up her sleeves, "but it won't be easy. Some parts look really short."
Neji sighed as Hinata gave an apologetic smile. "I-I'm sorry, Tenten."
"Hmm?" A glint came to Tenten's eyes as she began twirling her pair of scissors on her index finger. "Hey, don't worry about anything. I'll make you look good, Hinata. Besides -" She stepped forward and cut off a lock, which wafted to the marble floor, "- I've always thought you looked cuter when it's short."
...
Twenty minutes later, and she was officially done.
Tenten handed her a mirror, and she was startled by the outcome. Short and chic, a bit tomboyish, with sweeping bangs. She ran a hand up the back of her hair, loving the feeling of the short strands gliding through her fingers. "Th-Thank you, Tenten! I-I love it."
Her friend grinned as she swept the floor. Neji, on the other side of the kitchen, shook his head and smiled. "You're a miracle worker." He walked over to Hinata and placed a hand on her head. "It's short, but you look good."
She smiled up at him. Tenten walked over and punched him in the arm. "Well don't go messing up my hard work," she said, glaring, but the teasing tone gave her away. "Unless you want me to cut your hair next . . . ."
He eyed the scissors in the pocket of her apron. "No thanks." He dropped the hand from Hinata's head and rubbed the back of his neck instead.
Slowly sliding off the stool while making sure she didn't step into any piles of hair, Hinata made her way out of the kitchen, smiling secretly. She had suspected for a while that her cousin felt something for Tenten - but with how he was acting now, it was all so obvious.
Ah. So that's why he went fishing.
...
"Sis!" Hanabi rounded the corner and nearly ran into. Yelping, she jumped back, face flustered. "It's Dad. He heard about your hair and -"
"Thank you, Hanabi." Down the hallway, a tall, dignified man swept towards them, his white, silk robes hiding his feet and making it look like he was floating. Hiashi Hyuuga was a powerful man whose eyes were about as knowing as Neji's, and he used them well. Stopping in front of his daughters, pale face void of everything, he said, "But I do not need you to act as my messenger. I can tell Hinata myself."
The spunk that lit up her sister's eyes died down as she cooled her face. Hinata hated seeing her like that, like a shell of herself. "Yes, Father."
Hiashi's shifting eyes drifted between the two. She knew what he was doing. Comparing. Only instead of strength or grades or integrity, he was comparing their hair, now. Hanabi had been blessed with thick, chocolate locks that nearly reached her mid-back. A true Hyuuga, she was. And standing next to a true Hyuuga with her short, boyish hair, Hinata knew she had disappointed her father once again.
"Daughter," he said, "tell me what made you come to this decision. I thought we had both agreed to grow your hair out."
Hinata lowered her gaze. "I-I'm sorry."
He didn't say anything. He didn't have to. She knew.
Hiashi turned to the kitchen, where whispers could be heard. Hinata's head shot up, and she quickly said, "I-I p-promise to not to it a-again." Her father's attention drifted back to her, and she gave an internal sigh of relief. It wasn't that her father did not like Tenten - but she did not want him to walk in on . . . what could be an intimate conversation. "N-Not ever."
Hiashi nodded. "Let's see to it that you don't."
Hanabi and Hinata bowed their heads as their father turned back and walked to his office. Her entire body shook, because she knew she couldn't lie to her father, and he knew that, too.
"Hinata."
Her head shot up, heart throbbing in her throat. Shikamaru stared at her from the other side of the desk, brow arched, before he gestured to the board. "It's your turn," he said, leaning back. "Has been for a while now."
"S-Sorry!"
Mentally slapping her cheeks, she focused on the game at hand. Her eyes swept across her army of chess pieces, calculating a move or two ahead - but then her mind went back to yesterday, to the day before that, to last year. Hinata hadn't noticed she had drifted off until a sharp sigh came from across the board.
"Hey," Shikamaru drawled, "I know I don't look it, but I have ears, too. Tell me what's on your mind."
Shoulders slumping, she moved her pope before sitting back in her chair. "O-Okay." She squished her hands between her knees to keep them from jittering or rubbing against each other. "I-I, um, did s-something bad."
"Mmm." He moved his queen and took the pope she had just placed down. "The hair thing? You still thinking about that?"
"N-No, not really."
He looked up, brows furrowed.
"A-Actually, it's something else." Last night, she had stayed up and thought long and hard. She had felt bad for pushing Sasuke away so suddenly, and the guilt only grew heavier when he had come to help her later on. "I-I need to a-apologize to someone, b-but he, um, is the s-sort to hold g-grudges, I think." Face hot with shame, Hinata looked off to the side. "I'm t-trying to figure out . . . h-how to approach him."
She heard Shikamaru shift in his seat, keeping quiet. A whole new level of guilt came to her upon realizing that she was not only ruining their game, but bothering him with her own problems. Biting her lip, she tried to force the sting in her eyes away, but that only seemed to make it worse, and before she knew it, her vision was blurred with tears.
"Hey, Hinata." Another heavy sigh, followed by the sound of a chair being pushed against the floor. A small, white handkerchief was shoved in her face, and she thanked him as she took it to dry her eyes. "You can't really play when you're crying." Patting her cheek with the soft cloth, she found him glowering down at the board before rolling his eyes. "Mmh, not that I expect this game to finish, anyhow."
What was that supposed to mean? She tried to ask him, but then he shrugged a shoulder towards the door, and when she followed his gaze, she was surprised to see Sasuke there, staring at her.
"That guy," Shikamaru said, placing a steady hand on her shoulder, "I don't think you'll have to worry about approaching him. Stubborn asses like him approach you first."
...
Her stomach, confidence, and voice were left behind, leaving her with an aching heart and spiked nerves. Slowly closing the door, Hinata stepped into the hallway, feeling like a hundred eyes were on her despite the hall being practically empty. On the opposite wall, Sasuke leaned back with one leg arched back, looking stoic, nonchalant - if Hinata had even an ounce of what he had, things would be a lot easier for her.
"I wanted to talk to you," he said, voice as bulky as a rock.
Immediately, her mind was flooded with a million things. He hates me, followed by, he told Naruto everything; scared thoughts about revenge, about blackmail, swirled around like a hurricane in her head. Her head pounded as the weight of her guilt finally got the better of her, and with shaky knees, she bent down.
"I-I-I'm so s-sorry!"
Through her tears, all she could see were his shoes. But when he didn't say anything, she could practically watch his face wrinkle up in anger. What's happened to you, Hinata? she thought. What's with all the waterworks?
"Y-You've b-been very -" Very what? Kind? Encouraging? Sweet? "- helpful, a-and I-I shouldn't have - it was r-rude of me t-to p-push you away." Tears began to stop their flow, and she felt her chest get lighter, and she nearly sighed in relief. "And, u-um, thank you f-for helping me yesterday. I-I d-don't really know what h-happened, but . . ."
Looking up, she trailed off upon the expression on his face. He didn't - really - look as angry as she had expected. If anything, he looked surprised. "That's . . ." His eyes flickered like a flame, trying to focus on something. "That's not what I was going to say."
What?
"I didn't help you. Your friend did." He scowled to the side. "You really don't know what happened?"
Was she supposed to? Did something happen? She thought back to the rush of darkness, to the dream, and said, "I-I know I f-fainted."
"Yeah." His head tilted as the scowl deepened. Suddenly, he looked angry, and Hinata took a cautious step back. "And your friend beat up that kid."
Hinata remembered the boy with the black eye and split lips. Ino did that? But that wasn't Ino - she didn't just launch herself into fights (physical fights, at least). "Why?" she asked.
"Because he called you a freak," Sasuke droned.
Heart skipping a beat, Hinata rubbed her forearm, suddenly very uncomfortable. So her friend got in a fight for her and she didn't even know? Guilt swallowed her heart, but there was also a hint of gratefulness somewhere in there. She smiled to herself, glad she had such amazing friends. But then she thought back to that day, to Sasuke being there, helping her up, taking her to the nurse. Wait . . . she thought, looking over at him. Why was he there?
She couldn't imagine why he would come to her after what she had done to him in the library.
Swallowing a lump in her throat, she asked, "What . . . d-did you n-need to talk about?"
What came next was a swarm of emotions. Well, actually, in other cases, this would have been a normal amount of emotions; but because this was Sasuke, Hinata felt like she was watching an entire movie on his face. His eyes lit up with realization as his jaw unclenched. Then, that look came back again - the one that made her think he was about to pull out a Confession Letter. He took a step closer and pushed a hand in the back pocket of his jeans. There, in the middle of the hallway, with his eyes staring at her, straight through her, somehow beyond her, Sasuke did not look like a marble sculpture or a stone wall. He looked like a human; a nervous, hesitant human.
His hand came out from behind him, and he held his phone out to her.
"Can I have your number?"
...
Have my number? She looked down at the phone, puzzled. But doesn't he already have it?
"I deleted it," he said, as if reading her thoughts. She shot him a questioning look. He stared back with wavering eyes. "I thought about what you said, and I figured that if I was going to get your number, I'd want to get it from you."
Her eyes widened.
A bit of her expected for that dread to come back. But it didn't. Because it was Sasuke Uchiha who was asking her, and when she looked around, she didn't see any sign of Naruto anywhere. With a smile, she took the phone and began typing in her number.
...
Returning to the club room, she felt . . . rootless. Like if she didn't focus on where her feet would take her, she'd float away. Biting her lip, unsure if it was out of nervousness or to hide a growing smile, Hinata walked up to Shikamaru, who was packing up all the boards and piling them inside the classroom's closet. The look he sent her told her that he wasn't expecting to see her again.
Scooting a chair in to avoid bumping into it, he said, "Did you forget something?"
Hinata smiled and grabbed one of the boxes. "N-No. I just wanted t-to help."
Shikamaru snorted. "Sure." They went to the closet and stacked the chess boxes on the top shelf, next to the timers that some of the other members used. "So I'm assuming the talk went well."
For maybe half a second, she wondered how he could know. But then she touched her warm cheeks and felt the smile on her lips and supposed it wasn't a hard thing to guess. She nodded and almost missed his frown as he turned on his heel and walked past her. She watched him grab his backpack and dangle it over his shoulder, not really holding on to it. Something distant was in his eyes, which came often when he was thinking hard. She didn't see it much when he played chess, but there were times when he'd have to stop and think. The thing was - she never really knew what he was thinking about during those times.
Is something wrong? she wondered.
With a final sigh, he turned to her, and asked, "How many do you have now?"
His question was so sudden; Hinata almost didn't know what he was talking about. Mentally counting back, she said, "217."
The frown that came to him was disappointed and a bit irked.
His eyes flashed to the door, then to the desk they had sat at, then finally to her. Tension was everywhere: in his face, in his shoulders, in the air around him. She couldn't understand why he was suddenly so strained-looking. "Hinata," he said, breathed, called. Her heart shook . . . because she's been in this situation before. 217 times. "Tomorrow, can you meet me here after school?"
She clenched her hands together as she struggled to keep her smile; not because she was hurt or nervous, nor because she was jealous. But because that sinister voice in her head told her something she just couldn't believe.
If he likes Ino or Tenten or Sakura, it whispered, then is that the only reason he's still friends with you?
"Eh? Hinata?"
The scene was familiar. In the middle of the dining area, her eating at a table, him standing there, tray in hand. Only this time, she didn't feel giddy or excited upon seeing him.
"Hi, N-Naruto." Smiling politely, she looked up at him, staring at his chin. "C-Can I-I help you?"
He had a hesitant smile, probably picking up a few of her uneasy signals. "Nah, not really," he said, laughing. "I was just passin' by and I saw you looking, y'know, upset or something. Just wanted to make sure you were okay."
Conflicting emotions battled within her, heating up her body. Despite herself, the concern he had for her lifted her spirits slightly. It made her feel a bit hopeful, like maybe, in the future, these emotions she'd gotten from him would fade away and they could be . . . comfortable again. But the other side of her felt irritated. He had a lot of nerve to ask her that question after what he'd done to her. Hinata wrestled with her thoughts and emotions as Naruto shifted awkwardly from one leg to the other.
"You don't have'ta answer," he said, scratching the back of his head. "I was just wondering."
She nodded and went back to picking at her food.
"Well, I guess I'll catch you later." Bright grin returning to his face, Naruto turned to leave, only to pause and look back at her. Hinata felt herself melt under his gaze. Not the good kind of melt, where her heart felt mushy, but the kind where she felt too hot to breathe. "By the way, your hair looks good like that, too."
Oh, Naruto, she sighed, wanting nothing more but to groan out in frustration and slam her face into the table, why are you doing this to me?
...
Meet up with me for a second. - Sasuke.
Huh? Hinata looked up at the clock, noting that it was three minutes before school ended. Right now?
The entire class was full of zipping backpacks and flapping paper, and the teacher sat at his desk, waiting for the bell to ring so he could excuse his class. Phone under the desk, Hinata texted him back.
I'm sorry, I can't. - Hinata
She waited. Nothing came from him. The clock on the wall ticked, and with every second, her anxiety grew. Wondering if she had somehow said something wrong - maybe he felt like she was avoiding him again - she quickly typed up another text.
Do you need to tell me something? What is it? - Hinata
Again, nothing. Hinata sighed and was about to slip her phone into her pocket, but then it buzzed.
Why can't you? - Sasuke.
Reading it, the worry she had been trying to ignore all day came back at full force, making her palms clammy with sweat. Those irrational fears swirled in her head, poking and prodding, and she almost didn't hear the bell go off. Students stood and rushed out. Hinata quickly typed a reply as she fumbled with her bag.
I'm meeting someone else. - Hinata
She walked out of the room, down the hallway, and had to fight the crowd in order to get to the Chess Club. The trek there was the longest she had ever taken, and by the time she got there, her chest was hurting and her fingers were trembling. Inhaling and exhaling, counting her breaths, she stood in front of the door, staring, waiting, begging herself to calm down. She'd never felt so nervous about receiving a confession letter - even the one she got from Kiba wasn't this nerve-wracking. So why did Shikamaru's make her feel like she would collapse at any moment?
Hinata raised a hand to grasp the handle, but her wrist was caught and pulled away. She yelped and jumped away, head flying to the side. "Wh-What d-do you -"
She stopped. Sasuke was there, giving her a mean glare, as he wagged his phone in front of her face. "You didn't answer me."
Blinking, she pulled out her phone and read the notification.
It's Shikamaru, isn't it? - Sasuke
...
"What does he want?" Sasuke asked.
Hinata lowered her head. "To give m-me a l-letter."
"For who?"
"I-I don't know." It could be either of the three, though she suspected he'd go for Ino. The two of them were practically raised together due to their parents being close friends. It wouldn't be a surprise if he had caught feelings for her.
Sasuke, however, didn't look convinced. "For you?"
"What?" She looked at him, wondering if he was teasing her. "N-No."
"Hn."
They both turned to the door, expectation in the air. The confidence she had accumulated was diminishing, and replacing it was anger. She hated feeling like this. It wasn't hard to open a door and help a friend out, yet the ball of dread in her stomach made her feel like it was the most difficult thing in the world. A shaky breath escaped her, and she willed herself not to get frustrated. Because with frustration came tears, and she didn't want to cry in a hallway in front of Sasuke.
Her hand rose and grasped the handle, and she felt winded from that act alone. Sasuke tilted his chin in the direction of the door, hovering in her peripheral vision. "You're hesitating," he stated. "I wonder why . . ."
And though it was weird because they had only known one another for a short amount of time, she knew what he meant by that. Talk to me. He wanted her to talk to him. Her hand tightened around the handle. Should she? She wanted to, needed to, or this whole thing could get messy. But . . .
But usually, she wasn't the talker. Hinata was the listener, the advice-giver. The last time she went to someone to talk, she had only gotten more confused. And that was with Kiba, one of her closest friends. Sasuke was . . . he was . . . .
"S-Sasuke." Her whisper ghosted over her shoulders. She hoped Shikamaru didn't hear her from inside. "Are w-we . . . friends?"
His eyes widened a fraction, as if he were struggling to keep a cool face. Was her question really that out of the blue? Taking a step back, he gave a long sigh and rubbed his shoulder. He looked like Kiba, somehow - Kiba when he was avoiding something because he was . . . uncomfortable.
Oh no. She was doing it again.
"No," he said, no humor in his tone or sparkle in his eyes, "I don't want that."
Stupid, she hissed to herself, ignoring her hand turning white as she squeezed with every inch of power she had. He's Sasuke Uchiha. He talked to her and fished with her and maybe - maybe - flirted with her once. That didn't mean he wanted to be friends. That didn't mean they were pals. He was just doing what he wanted to do and she followed his lead like she did with everything. She shouldn't feel disappointed in his answer because she shouldn't have expected anything else in the first place.
But . . . it hurt terribly bad, and her heart felt like it was cracking.
"But I'll still listen."
And now he was pitying her. She offered him a tight smile. "I-It's o-okay, I-I can just -"
"Hinata." And that glare - it reminded her of Neji. Not when he was mad or disappointed or angry, but when he just wanted her to sit down and listen. "Just because I don't want you to be my friend doesn't mean I don't want to listen."
That doesn't make sense, she thought, keeping her mouth shut tightly.
But she pushed away her confusion and listened.
"O-Okay." Loosening her grip, she turned to face him. He made no move to put space between them, so she figured what he had said was true. Forcing her shoulders to relax, she began. "I, u-um, think I-I'm nervous a-and a bit jealous." She had just started, and she was already blushing. This was embarrassing. "N-Nervous because Sh-Shikamaru might b-be friends with me because I-I know the girls. J-Jealous because, well, i-if that's t-true, then h-he didn't stay friends with m-me because of m-m-me."
Nothing came from Sasuke, and she didn't know if she should be relieved or disappointed. All she could really feel at the moment was embarrassment and trepidation.
She eyed the door and lowered her voice. "I just . . . d-don't w-want to lose him."
Because it's happened before - losing someone. And she didn't want that to happen again.
"You won't." There was a new expression on his face, something softer. It was in his eyes, mostly. They looked more than just stone - they looked alive. And then, somehow, something came and made his face more beautiful than it already was.
He smiled. "He's not Naruto."
...
The sun coming in through the window, stretching across the floor and the empty desks, the classroom looked like it came out of a romance anime. Closing the door gently behind her, Hinata stepped into the room, clutching the strap of her purse as if it were the only thing keeping sane. Her lips curled as she slowly tore her gaze off the floor and rose them forward, where, in the sunlight, he stood.
Shikamaru . . . She stopped in the middle of the room, watching him. What will I do when you're gone?
His face was shadowed as the light came from behind him, but she could see his dark eyes peering at her from beyond the darkness. His back was against the window pane, hands lightly clutching the sill, and his posture was the exact opposite of what she felt: calm, cool, collected.
"Hey," he eventually said, jaw dipping. "So you really came, huh?"
What was this atmosphere? "Shikamaru, h-how, um, can I-I h-help you?"
He breathed and moved away from the window. "You already know how." His shoulder rolled, gesturing her to come closer, and she did. Then, his hand extended forward, and in the light, an envelope was revealed. "I wish this could have waited later, but I realized I didn't have much time left." He dropped it in her hands and pulled away. "I'm sorry."
What for? If anything, she should be apologizing. By just a glance alone, she could tell that it was definitely meant for Ino. Purple with flowers at the bottom. Ino loved purple, and she worked at a flower shop sometimes after school. If Hinata had just known sooner . . . maybe she could have helped by dropping hints or something. But she wasn't like Shikamaru. She couldn't get her head out of the past, so how was she supposed to face the future?
Rubbing her thumb along the front, she smiled sadly and put it into her purse.
"218," he said, taking a small step toward her, enveloping her in his shadow. He was so close, she could see his face through the dark. He looked so . . . intense. "It's for -"
"I-I know." Come on, Hinata, focus! The least you can do is be encouraging. "I-I can see y-you put a lot of thought i-into it. She'll . . . b-be very happy."
Wind pushed against the building, making it creak and groan. Outside, past the blinding sunlight, laid a grey, decaying world as winter approached. She noticed it because, somehow, that world reflected in Shikamaru's eyes. A coldness that was not yet there, she felt it from the window and from her friend. Something was wrong. Was she not encouraging enough? Had he noticed her nervousness and misinterpreted it? He didn't have the face of the other boys. There was no sheepishness, no blushing, no blazing hope in his eyes. It was as if . . .
. . . as if he expected to be rejected.
"Sh-Shikamaru," she said, flinching at how watery her voice sounded, "d-don't give u-up yet. You don't kn-know i-if she -"
"Stop, Hinata." He sounded so exhausted. Even when they were playing chess and he looked like he would rather take a nap on the board than continue, he never sounded that tired. He circled around her, grabbed his backpack from a nearby desk, and began towards the door. "I know. Trust me."
He tapped his forehead, a bitterness in his smirk.
Why was he acting like this?
Was he . . . was he going to stop? Stop the club, stop the game -
Stop being friends with her?
"Shikamaru!" She ran up to him as he reached the door. Sirens rang in her ears, and she couldn't breathe. "A-Are y-you . . . leaving me?
He pushed the door open. "I'll never leave you," he said, smile tight, corners quivering. "If anything, it's the other way around, right?"
The sound of the door closing was hollow.
What just happened? Hinata whirled around on her heels, feeling confused, betrayed. What's happening here!?
Light slowly crept up the floor as the sun began to sink. She sunk to the ground, feeling her heart being ripped out, feeling like at any second she could die from the pain in her chest. As the light touched her frozen hands, nothing but a dull wisp of something was felt. Everything was numb, and in the shadows, Hinata was dazed and heartbroken and cursing herself and Confession Letter #218, purple, flowery, and the thing that took her friend away.
...
"I'm glad I got to know you, Hinata! We're going to be best friends! Believe it!"
...
"Get up." Hands held her under her arms and pulled her up. She stumbled forward and leaned into a steady chest, wet cheek pushed against the soft fabric of a winter jacket. Two, hesitant hands gripped her shoulders, stabilizing her. For someone who acted as cold and lifeless as a statue, Sasuke could be quite gentle, too. "We need to leave."
She nodded and leaned back on her heels to meet his gaze.
He stared back, unafraid - not that he had anything to be afraid of, really. She was just Hinata.
Wrapping an arm around her, he took both of them to the door, pushed it open with his shoulder, and led them down the hall. His body heat matched with his coat warmed her, and the numbness slowly seeped out of her body. She couldn't believe that she thought of him as winter. Winter was never so warm and comforting.
And as they walked side-by-side, him leaning close and her leaning closer, she began to wonder why her non-friend was beginning to act so friendly.
"So it didn't go well, huh, Hinata?"
"N-Not at all."
"Tch. Maybe he is as bad as Naruto."
Her lips twitched upwards, and she had to press her hand against them to stop. Out in the empty parking lot with only a few cars here and there, Hinata breathed in the cool air and sighed as it washed through her system, relaxing her tense muscles and burning chest. Sasuke watched her from the corner of his eye before clearing his throat. "So what are you going to do about it?" he asked.
The twitching in her lips stopped, and she thought. She hadn't had much time to think of anything, but she knew she needed to do something. These stupid letters weren't about to ruin another friendship of hers.
"I-I'll think of s-something," she said.
Again, he didn't look convinced. "I'll tell you one thing." He pointed at her purse, where the corner of a purple envelope poked out. "Get rid of that thing as soon as possible. It'll help get your mind off of . . . things."
He was right, and she made a mental note to give it to Ino first thing tomorrow morning. She pulled out her phone and began to text Neji, telling him that she was done and that he could come get her at school, but Sasuke stopped her by putting a hand over her screen.
"What are you doing?"
She thought it was obvious. "T-Telling N-Neji to -"
"Didn't you hear what I just told you? Get rid of it." He pulled his keys out of the side pocket of his backpack and nodded his head to the left, where a black Ford Mustang Cobra was parked. "I'll take you to her."
What? She tried to keep up, but he was already walking to his car. Why is he doing this?
How can he be so kind, and yet so distant at the same time?
She slowly followed him, but never tucked her phone away. He clicked his keys to unlock the doors and opened the passenger seat for her, but she didn't get in. She stood there like a rock, blushing and wondering.
"I-I thought," she said, "w-we weren't f-friends."
He smirked and perched his chin on top of the door. "We aren't."
"Th-Then why . . . ?"
She trailed off as he gave her an expectant look, a single brow raising. "You really don't know?" Know? Know what? "You would if you'd just read the poem." How did that have anything to do with what they're talking about? Her mind was reeling, and it must have shown on her face, for Sasuke gave an amused scoff.
"I'm never going to be your friend." His smirk shifted, almost softened. She couldn't describe it, really, but it made her feel warm. "Not if I have any say."
...
Ring . . . ring . . . ring . . .
"Hinata? Are you ready for me to pick you up?"
"A-Ah, u-u-um, actually . . . S-Someone else is d-driving me, N-Neji."
"Who? One of your friends?"
". . . Not e-exactly."
"Then who is it?"
She looked over at the car, saw Sasuke trace his hand over the steering wheel, and wondered if this was as good of an idea as he let on.
"That pause is not you trying to come up with a lie, is it, Hinata?"
"O-Oh! No, N-Neji. It's j-just - it's - i-it's S-Sasuke . . ."
"Sasuke?"
"Mhm."
"Where is he . . . taking you?"
"T-To I-Ino's - to drop o-off a letter. Then, u-um, home."
There was a pause that seemed to tick on for years. Then -
"Do you trust him?"
"Y-Yes."
"Then so do I."
Huh? "Y-You do?" She wasn't trying to sound rude, but her cousin wasn't the kind to trust easily. Especially when it came to the people around his younger cousins.
"Hinata, if I didn't, I wouldn't have let you two fish together."
So he had noticed. She figured he must have - they hadn't been totally out of sight, so everyone must have seen them at least once. But what she didn't understand was - "Why?"
"Like I said - I trust him. I have since that day in the car when he let down the window. Don't you get it, Hinata? Sasuke hates the cold."
Yeah, I know. Lowering the phone from her ear, she returned her gaze to Sasuke. And I'm beginning to understand everything, now.
...
The Yamanaka Flower Shop used to be where she'd spend her summers as a kid. Her mother had a passion for gardening and would sometimes spend hours perusing the shop and talking with the Yamanakas. Hinata remembered helping Ino water the flowers and give them names, and if Shikamaru was over, they'd play hide-and-seek together. She loved the place because it was where her friends were, where the flowers were.
It's been eight years since she had last come here, to this place.
After her mom passed, no one was around to take her, and she didn't have the heart to force anyone.
So to say that stepping into that shop and hearing that familiar ring from above and smelling the combined scent of fresh, loved flowers was overpowering would be an understatement. It knocked Hinata off her feet - literally - and were it not for Sasuke behind her, she would have fallen to the ground.
"Hinata?" Behind the counter, arranging a vase full of roses, was Ino in her apron and hat. She rushed out upon seeing her friend, but froze in place when she caught sight of the Uchiha. "And . . . S-Sasuke?"
He didn't spare a glance her way as he pulled the letter out of Hinata's purse and threw it her way. "Special delivery."
...
"IT'S FROM SHIKAMARU!?"
The screech made the potted plants hanging from the ceiling swing, and Hinata flinched and watched them closely, readying herself to dodge any falling item if need be. Across the counter, Ino collapsed on her stool, looking pale and flabbergasted.
"I can't believe it," she whispered, eyes wide and glossy. "There's just no way."
She'd seen this a hundred times - no, more than that - over two hundred to be exact. Hinata was used to her friends rejecting the confession letters they received, but this one stung just as badly as the one from Kiba did. She didn't like seeing Ino upset, but she didn't want Shikamaru to be heartbroken, either.
Fiddling with her thumbs, Hinata said, "H-He gave me it j-just a bit ago." Her eyes fell on the counter's surface as the scene in the club room replayed in her mind. "I-I couldn't b-believe it, either. At first, at l-least."
"There must be a mistake," Ino said, looking up. "You're sure it's for me?"
Hinata gave a small, weak smile and nodded. Behind her, Sasuke sighed and walked to the door, telling her that his patience was growing thin.
"Okay, okay." Ino leaned her head into her hands. Hinata couldn't imagine what she must be going through. She knew Shikamaru and Ino were tight, practically siblings. It must be awkward getting a sudden confession from him, especially with no hints whatsoever. "I'll just . . . call him tonight. Until then, I'm not thinking about this."
She turned to her left, reached for a drawer, and put the envelope inside.
"Thanks, Hinata," Ino said, grin trembling. "I know these things aren't always easy for you."
"I-I'll, um, see you tomorrow, I-Ino." Hinata turned and walked to Sasuke's side, who was already halfway out the door. She took hold of the glass door, soaked in the smell, the warmth, the color; because she doubted she'd ever come back.
There were too many memories here - of her mother, of her childhood, and over her friends who seemed to be breaking apart.
"Hinata!"
She hadn't expected to find a smiling, bubbly Ino the next day at school, but she wasn't about to complain about it, either. Ino pulled her into a hug, squishing her against her taller figure. She hugged back, relieved that her friend was doing better. Her night had been haunted by blue, distressed eyes, and she barely got a wink of sleep.
Pulling away, Ino grinned down at her, and said, "It wasn't for me."
Wait.
. . . wait.
But that couldn't be true.
"What?" was all she could say, because she had so many questions, and that one seemed to sum up most of them.
Ino laughed and patted her shoulder. "I called him last night - like I said I would. I asked him what it was about, and he told me to meet up somewhere." Her hands flew this way and that as she went on in her explanation. "I was, like, totally freaked out - practicing what I was goin' to say to him and all. But when I got there, I didn't have to say anything. He told me it was a mistake - that it was for someone else - and even took back the letter. Oh my gawd, Hinata, you have no idea how panicked I was over this. It was, like, a huge weight was lifted off my shoulders."
Hinata lifted her lips into a smile. "He s-said . . . it wasn't . . . f-for you?"
"Yeah!" Ino said, chipper. "And I know he wasn't lying, either. Cuz he has that smile - you know the one - where it looks like it's shaking? He always does that when he's lying, and I didn't see it once when we were talking." She sighed, looking relieved. "I feel so much better. You really gave me a scare, Hinata."
Giggling and twirling her hair around, Ino skipped past her. Hinata stood there and smiled, glad her friends were okay with each other. She followed her to class, trying to ignore the sudden, massive weight on her shoulders as dread began to pick at her mind again.
Because if it wasn't meant for Ino . . . then who was it for?
...
It was after school, and she was about to leave for the parking lot when a big, warm hand literally snapped her back. She yelped, tumbled, and fell back into someone. When she tilted her chin back and saw blazing, blue eyes and a boyish grin hover above her, Hinata turned red and launched herself forward.
"I-I'm sorry, N-N-Naruto," she sputtered, playing with her hair, twisting it over her shoulder. "You s-surprised me!"
He laughed. "I'm just glad I caught you before you left." His grin dropped to a shy smile. Hinata held her breath. "Actually, er, I kinda need to give you something. Not now, obviously, but later. Like, tomorrow?"
A confession letter.
Nothing had to be said directly for her to know what he wanted to give her.
Hinata tried to meet his gaze, and when he looked away, blushing, her heart gave a thrilled thump. This couldn't be . . . He wasn't actually going to . . .
Was he?
"T-Tomorrow works," she said.
Naruto sighed and smiled. "Great! Just find me during lunch and - wait, no. I'll find you." He took her hand and squeezed it, his entire person sparkling. "Thanks, Hinata."
He sprinted off, ears red, and Hinata clutched that hand to her chest.
She couldn't believe it.
She was about to get her first confession letter.
...
After a whole day of wondering and pondering and worrying, Hinata decided that the only way to get her head out of this pool of questions was to go and ask Shikamaru himself.
Things might be awkward right now, she thought, making her way to the club room, but we're still friends.
Right?
She shook her head. Of course they were. It was silly of her to think he would only be friends with her to get closer to his crush - which, as it were, wasn't even his crush in the first place. If she could just talk to him and push the misunderstandings to the side, things would go back to the way they were.
Putting confidence in her stride, Hinata finally reached the room. Giving herself no time to hesitate, she pushed open the door and marched in. The rest of the club members glanced up from their boards, startled by her uncharacteristically loud entrance. She sent them an apologetic smile and turned to look for Shikamaru.
She didn't find him at their normal desk or in the closet, so she wondered if he had to leave to get something. Humming, Hinata walked over to Sai, vice-president of the club. He looked up from his game and gave her a forced smile.
"Hinata," he said, "I'm glad you made it."
"Th-Thank y-you. Um, where's Sh-Shikamaru?"
His smile dropped. "You don't know?" He turned fully away from the game, face set in a neutral expression. "He quit the club this morning."
What?
...
"Why d-did he - d-do you - where is he!?"
Her heart was pumping a mile a minute, and her lungs were struggling.
Sai's eyes narrowed with concern. "We haven't seen him since then."
So she was right. It was happening again - the same way it happened with Naruto. They'd make her feel special and needed, and once they were close enough, they'd use her for her messenger status and throw her away. Only . . . she actually felt like Shikamaru was her friend, and he . . . he said . . . !
"I'll never leave you."
He said that! He had looked her in the eye and said that. Was he . . .
Had he been . . .
"I'll never leave you," he said, smile tight, corners quivering.
He was . . . lying.
...
No longer in control of her legs, her mind, her body, Hinata ran out of the room and sprinted down the hallway, not really knowing where to go or how to get there, but just wanted to get away from there!
Not again. Her vision was blurring, and she hiccuped on her staggering breaths. Not you, too!
She rounded a corner and ran head first into someone. They both fell to the ground. The dull pain in her tailbone was nothing compared to the crackling agony in her chest; and all she could do was just sit there and sob.
"Hinata . . . ?"
The voice was familiar, even with the unusual panic in his tone.
Of course. It was just her luck to run into Shikamaru Nara.
...
He crawled over to her, face dark with worry. "What the hell? What happened?"
She wiped furiously at her eyes, trying to clear them up, but the tears just would not stop. Glaring at him, she clenched her jaw, and whispered, "You liar!" One hand on the floor, she pushed herself forward and wrapped her arms around him, shoving her face against him, startled how even the touch of him was relieving enough, as if making her realize that he was there and real and not gone. "Y-You said you wouldn't leave, but you did! Why'd you leave the club? Were you really just using me because I'm the messenger? Why did you l-lie to me!?"
His arms hung at his side for a while as he let her cry, staining his shirt. When her sobs slowed down and quieted to hiccups, he wrapped an arm around her shoulder, not really pushing her close, but letting her know he was there.
"I didn't lie," he murmured. "I'm right here, aren't I?"
She lifted her head, peering at him. "But -"
"Mmm. The club? Yeah, that was getting too boring for me, and Asuma wanted me to try something more . . . challenging." His shoulders lifted in a shrug as he looked off to the side, a bit of a frown on his face. "So I left. And what else did you say? Somethin' about using you? Do you really think that?"
Her face heated up as she pushed away from him and sat back on her legs. "N-No," she said, ashamed.
He rolled his eyes, smirking. "I get it. Naruto really screwed with your head, huh?"
She bit her lip. "I'm sorry."
He laughed and scooted himself to sit right next to her and gave a light nudge to her shoulder. "Nothin' to apologize about." Knees to his chin, he wrapped an arm around them while the other scratched at his cheek. "It's like what Sasuke said: I'm not Naruro." He grinned slyly at her flabbergasted expression, looking like he had just caught his prey. "Because unlike Naruto, I have ears, and I listen."
...
Sitting against the wall with two cans of soda that Shikamaru had gotten from the nearby soda machine, they were together, and Hinata never felt more relieved in her life.
Sipping at her Fanta, she looked over the rim of her can and said to him, "A-About your l-letter."
His shoulders tensed, but his reply was smooth. "What about it?"
She took a moment to go over her question, making sure to cut her words down as not to scare her friend off. Shikamaru was all about relaxation and comfort, and as a friend, she never wanted to take that away from him. "What . . . a-are you g-going to do a-about it?"
He sighed, the back of his head resting against the brick wall. "Dunno," he said, taking a swig of his drink. If she looked closely, she could see something dance in his eyes. It was bright and fluttering - like hope. "Maybe I'll give it to her myself."
". . . Hinata."
There he was again, in the seat across from her spot in the library. She smiled at him and placed her bag down before taking her spot across from him, and it was then that she recognized what he was reading.
A black, hard-covered book full of poems.
Why was Sasuke reading that?
Pulling out her own copy, she flipped to where she had stopped the night before and glanced at how many pages she had left. About thirty more, if her assumption was correct. Across from her, Sasuke smirked as he placed his book down. "Well look at that," he mused. "We have the same book."
She bit the inside of her cheek and smiled. "I-I suppose so." But it was a bit odd. The book was mostly full of romance poems, and she never took Sasuke as a romance kind of guy. Eyeing him as he flipped through pages, as if looking for something, her curiosity got the best of her, and she asked, "What, u-um, g-got you into r-reading it?"
He paused to stare at her, gaze heavy. He glanced off to a corner in the library. "I saw someone reading it." Voice distant, he sounded off in his own world. "She looked happy reading it, so I figured I'd read it, too."
She didn't know why she was blushing, but she did, and it made Sasuke give an airy laugh.
...
"There's a poem," he said, "that reminds me of you."
She looked at him, waiting.
"A Dream I Lived A Thousand Times, by Sakif Hossain." She knew that one well, and having read it last night, it was still fresh in her mind. There was a line near the end that had always made her feel alive and excited when reading it. It went something like -
"A day that took years to come,
Hurdling all obstacles,
An hour worth the craving..
An evening sweeter than the sweetest dream,
A evening I want to relive all my life…"
...
He read it like his tongue was made of silk, and his eyes, glowing at her, made her heart beat faster than any poem she's read.
"That day," he said, closing his book before propping his chin on the heel of his palm. "Should we find it tomorrow, Hinata?"
Part II - End