- Pluck -

Part II

Chapter 23: Mercy on We

A/N: Just a few quick things.

There is some fear that I might abandon this story without word or warning, and I want to let you all know that that will definitely not ever be the case. I am finishing this story. I am determined to do so, no matter how long it takes me. And if, for some reason, I DO have to abandon it, I will 100% let you guys know. But I doubt that will ever be the case.

There are also a few people asking me about the overall situation between Sakura and Naruto and how I plan to let things between them go throughout the story. I thought I'd let anyone who is interested know, so if you do not want to be spoiled, please skip the rest of this Author's Note! Thank you

***SPOILERS FOR STORY***

To answer anyone's question: no. Sakura and Naruto are not ending up back together. I never planned for this to be the case. Will they stay friendly with one another? Probably. But not in a romantic relationship. That is all.

***END SPOILERS FOR STORY***

Companion song: Partingby Frans Bak

Eye contact.

How simple a thing it once was.

Sasuke Uchiha was not the sort of man to put too high a price on respect — well, when it came to certain Gods, at least. He did as he pleased, talked as he saw fit, acted towards a king the same way he'd act towards a common person. But when the situation was right and bitter on his tongue, he knew the importance of respect, of common courtesy. It used to rile him up to no end when people avoided his eye — except, of course, when it was the enemy, the criminal, the suspect. In those sorts of situations, he felt the burning spark of pride in his chest when they couldn't even try to look him in the eye. But when it was people other than them — when the situation was different and he wasn't interrogating or intimidating someone — he hated it when people did not make eye contact with him.

"Stop avoiding my gaze." Wasn't that one of the first things he ever said to Hinata when he had met her in the bar?

Sasuke Uchiha valued respect every so often; but the simple gesture of making eye contact with someone was important to him.

Since that morning, when he was sent to escort Hinata to the Guard for her daily memory implantation, he hadn't the ability or will to look her in the eye.

Not after what happened at dawn, with Naruto.

Not after what he read.

Fuck.

He'd kept it in, nice and tight, until they got to Ino's cell. Karin let her in, and when the door slammed shut, he marched to the wall and hurled his fist into the stone wall. The skin on his white knuckles cracked like fire, splitting open, washing the silvery scars on his fingers with rivers of blood. No dent came to the wall — not even a split in the grey stone. But his frustration was powerful, and when he lunged at a different door and slammed his shoulder into it, the metal croaked and shook with the electricity boiling and buzzing in his body.

FUCK!

But the swell of the steel door did nothing for him, and with a helpless sneer, he slid down to the ground and curled his bloody fingers into the hem of his cloak.

Damn it all.

Hopelessness.

He didn't . . . take it wall. He didn't take many emotions well, but this one was a particular kind of feeling he's had a history with since he was young. It sent him back to corpses in the hallway and broken legs and torn backs. He couldn't do anything then, and he can't do anything now.

Hopeless. Useless.

What do I . . . tell her?

He hadn't discussed it with Naruto. The shock was so terrible that he had flown straight to the Guard, dropped it on Karin's empty desk, and left to beg Orochimaru for something — anything — that could get him out of those hallways and into the bleak and nasty parts of reality. Sasuke flourished there, he realized, when horrible things happened. Usually, to him. But this time . . .

This time . . . .

It was Hinata. And she wasn't even aware of it.

Someone had to tell her.

Would it be him? The same man who had nearly left her in a dark, empty cell after telling her Suigetsu was sentenced to be killed in the most gruesome of ways?

Gods. Fuck.

"I knew it. Something happened."

He smelled the flowers first, heard her heels click down the way, listened to their steady beat fall into something hesitant. But it was Sakura's voice that made him look up and stare — not at her eyes — but at her face in general. At the tight skin between her brows. At the shadows in the corners of her lips.

Sakura no longer needed to come for Ino; in fact, she was told specifically to stop visiting, if only to not arouse suspicions.

And as a member of the Guard, she knew the importance of protocol.

She wasn't here for Ino, for Hinata.

She was here for —

"You need to go see him. I'm worried."

— for Naruto.

A dagger of exhaustion was stuck in his knees, but Sasuke stood and ignored the flash in her gaze as she looked down at his bleeding knuckles.

"What do you know?" he asked.

She shook her head, the blossoms by her head wilting a tad. "All I know is that one of his maids flew to the manor, absolutely panicked. They said he just . . . stopped. He won't even leave his office." The pink of her bottom lip got caught in her teeth, pinched in worry. "Sasuke, you know the last time he was like this. And if it's what I think it is — if it has anything to do with his mother — you're the best one to talk to him. Please."

There was some truth there, Sasuke knew. People with dead parents can empathize better with those who also have dead parents. But the bitterness roared in the back of his throat, and when he finally met her eye, he couldn't hide how he absolutely hated being the only one who could deal with this.

...

So he was back.

At the shining world.

For the longest time, Sasuke was sure he hated the place because it was too damn bright, and that he was simply the kind who preferred the quiet darkness.

And, sure, there was some truth to that.

But there was another reason, he realized as he entered Naruto's office and found the Sun King tucked under his desk, away from sight.

In the light, you couldn't hide. Everything was out in the open, clear to see; and, tragically, the Sun King, despite his best efforts, couldn't hide his sadness as well as he wanted to.

"Naruto."

And in that moment, it was all stripped away. Their authority, their titles, their power. The danger in their swords or the meaning in their robes. At that moment, it was just Sasuke Uchiha and Naruto Uzumaki, two boys who hid away from the sunshine when they remembered how awful life could treat them.

They liked to think their monarchs were Gods.

"But even Gods," his mother once told him, "live in tragedy."

Naruto, since the day he learned how to fly, knew two things about his future:

One: He was destined to be the next Sun King: the Apollo, the people already began to call him at the mere age of three. He would rise and set the sun. He would shine brilliantly in his sunshine palace. He would lead his people to fortune, to power, to greatness.

Two: In order to be the Sun King, he would have to kill the current monarch: The Sun Queen.

His . . . mother.

Kill.

The word had little meaning to him. It was just ink in the dictionary, a murmur that was passed around every so often when the people thought he wasn't listening — but he was. He always was.

It wasn't until he turned eleven when he realized what such a word meant.

Because —

"Killed. They were killed, I heard."

"Murdered in their own home!"

"Leaving behind two sons. What a shame."

"What an awful shame."

Sasuke's parents were killed. Not by him — no, never. Because he wasn't a king. He had to simply live the rest of his life without them. No more. They were gone. They would never come back. And when Naruto watched his friend as time passed — a month, a year, two years — that shadow of grief, of loneliness, of anger, of bitterness, of depression — it never left his face, his dark gaze.

Sasuke Uchiha's parents whom he loved so dearly were killed in his own home, and he would have to live with that fact for the rest of his life.

And Naruto . . . .

He was meant to kill his own mother, and he would have to live with that fact for the rest of his life.

...

"I quit."

His mother had a special hatred for those words, he knew; and, hell, even he wasn't the kind to just give up without a fight. But this was different. This was about life or death.

So he dropped his studies on her desk and announced it, clearly and formally, to the Sun Queen. There. It was done. No more pacing in his room, no more sleepless nights thinking about it. He made his decision.

But his mother —

"Naruto Uzumaki."

Well, the use of his full name alone told him he was in boiling water. The tone was also quite sharp and frightening.

But what really got him was —

"GAH!"

She — she hit him! Not hard, but the knuckles of her shaking fist knocking down onto his skull was definitely not soft, either, and Naruto yelped and reeled back as she scowled, face red, wings snapping out with her temper.

"I did not hear those words," she hissed, "come from your mouth, Naruto Uzumaki."

"I —" Fingers ran through his hair and rubbed the tender spot atop his head. "I —" He winced, couldn't look her in the eye, and stared at the stack of work he had thrown on her desk. "I can't."

"You can't?" she yelped, planting her hands on her hips.
"I can't!" he affirmed, raising his voice, hoping it would make him sound more confident, more sure.

Kushina gave him a wide, startled look. "What has gotten into you? Where is the Naruto from before who would sneak up on me and try to fight me for the title Sun King?"

"I was young! That's different."

"Is it the work?" She patted the pile, head tilted a bit. "I get it — it's not fun, but there are not-fun parts of being Sun King that you'll have to be prepared for when you —"

"When what?" he yelled, stepping back, shaking. "When I kill you!?"

She blinked, shoulders dropping, face softening. "That's what this is about?"

His eyes stung, and he frowned and turned away to rub at them. "Sasuke lost his mom," he muttered. "He hasn't smiled in a long time. You always tell me your favorite part of me is my smile. What if I turn out like him? What if I never smile again?"

"Naruto —"

"And — and I don't get why you're okay with this!" Sure that his eyes were dry, he gave his mother a hard look. "Why? Why are you okay with the idea of me killing you — and for what? Some stupid powers? I don't need them to be a good king! I'll do it without them if it means you can stay alive."

"Naruto," she sighed, "that's not how it works."

"The sun can rise on its own, for all I care — GAH!"

Again, rocky knuckles drilled into his skull, and he looked up to meet her angry face — but . . . wait.

It wasn't there.

It was a sort of expression he's seen between the cracks in the doorway, when she didn't notice him. It was the kind she masked when he was around, for whatever reason, replacing it with a smile or a snicker. It was a pensive, flat expression. Thoughtful. Wise.

The face of a perfect Sun Queen.

"Naruto." He never wished she'd say his full name until that very moment; because she only said it when she was angry, and at least then he had something to work with, to expect. But with this, he had no idea what would happen, what she would say. "It's — it's scary. I know. And even now, you're too young to understand it fully. Trust me, I've gone through what you're going through now when I was younger. And for a while, it will be weird. We're taught very early on to not kill, to not murder, to cherish and protect our loved ones. When you're a God, you must love your people. You must be empathetic, understanding, patient; so why are we required to destroy the very thing we want to protect? It seems contradictory, doesn't it?"

He clung to every word she spoke like it were a warm blanket at the bottom of the freezing, dark ocean. As a prince from Sun, it was revolutionary that he even knew what cold felt light. But he had felt it at the funeral, when he tried to hold Sasuke's hand in reassurance, only to have it pulled away from him mere seconds afterwards. He felt like he was encased in ice for the rest of the day, and it did not thaw when he returned to his sunny, warm home.

"When you're older, you'll understand," she said, a soft finality in her tone. "It won't hurt as much. But until then, just try to understand. This is just how it works. And no matter what —" She took his face in her warm hands and kissed his cheek, "I will never stop loving you."

He tried to believe that. He tried to be that good, brave boy she raised and took the homework she handed back with stride. He tried to smile, because . . . she loved his smiles.

But . . . when the door was closed and he was back in his room, he dropped the work on the floor and crawled under his bed and tried to imagine a future where his mother wouldn't be there, kissing his worries away.

...

"It's getting closer."

"Yeah."

"And you're going through with it?"

"I have to."

He expected the glare. Most of Sasuke's looks were glares nowadays. But this was a mean look that reminded Naruto that he was not only talking to a non-prince who wouldn't understand kingly duties, but he was also his best friend who found his own parents murdered in home six years ago.

"I mean — I — it's not like I want to."

"Sure," Sasuke muttered. "To me, you sound damn eager."

Eager.

Eager!?

"Fuck you!" Naruto yelled, leaping up from the grand stairway that led into the Sun palace. The flutter of maid skirts told him his exclaim was heard throughout the entire castle, but, honestly, he couldn't care less. "Eager? Are you kidding me? You think I'm eager to kill my own mom, my only family? Is that seriously what you think of me?"

Regret was a heavy boulder that could break any Sky person's wings, but even with the ashamed bow of his swarming gaze, Sasuke's wings stayed straight, perfect, weightless. Naruto gave him a moment — not a long one, mind you — but enough time for any sane person to swallow their pride and say something. Because Sasuke had his history with death and hated whenever it was brought up, but Naruto was never — ever — the kind to let this breeze by easily. They were friends. He knew how this was eating at him, tearing him apart, piece by piece, ripping the ribs out of his torso until his crying heart was fully exposed.

To say he was — that he was eager, of all things — was way beyond the line.

And yet, even with that dark, hooded gaze, even with the thickness of the air, not a word came. Not a correction. Not an apology.

And that . . . hurt more than the words.

So Naruto did what any great king was supposed to do and smiled in the face of danger, of tragedy. Don't show them weakness. Don't let them see they got to you. Smile. That way, they can't continue to hurt you.

". . . Naruto."

"I get it."

He left his friend on the steps, smiling at the worried maids that passed him looks, even putting a skip in his step to show them he was fine, they were fine, it was just friends getting one each other's nerves — nothing bad, nothing horrible. By tomorrow, all would be forgiven, and those horrible words would be dusted under the carpet, forgotten for the rest of eternity.

A hum carried him down the bright corridors.

Warmth sunk into his flushed face as he grinned at the chefs in the kitchen.

He even laughed and helped one of the butlers-in-training find where the back door to the fountains was. A helpful, watchful king who knew his palace, his kingdom, like the very name he owned.

But when he got to his room . . .

"D-Damn." The smile broke. The warmth went stale on his cheeks. The hum cracked as a sob shook his entire body and soul. He grabbed at his face as tears spilled from his eyes, covering his tense fingers and trembling jaw. "Damn — i-it all!"

Everywhere in Sun was bright.

But sometimes, when he crawled under his bed and squeezed his eyes shut, so hard that his face began to hurt, there was some darkness. It was only then could Naruto stop, for a minute, being a Prince, the future Sun King, the Apollo. In the dark, he was just a boy with wings who had a heart, who had a soul, who felt every pointed word and every glare and every snapping hand like it were a needle sinking into his very skin.

At the age of seventeen, Naruto knew well he'd have to kill his own mother one day.

He's known all his life.

But . . . that didn't make it any better, any easier to deal with.

...

In the dark, he saw monsters.

His mother's corpse, simmering under his own hands. Her eyes were open and blank. Lifeless. So unlike her. Her face was flat, expressionless, smileless.

He killed her.

In the dark, he was a murderer.

...

"Please come here, Naruto."

He thought he would be stuck in there forever, chased by the sight of his dead mother; but a voice called his name. He opened his eyes, and Naruto blinked at the light and at the small hand reaching for him.

". . . Hinata?"

"It's okay," she whispered. "Come here. It's okay to come out."

He didn't believe her at first, but Hinata always had a way to persuade people, so he eventually took that hand and allowed her to drag him out of the dark and into the blinding brightness of his room. Her hands were on his face, rubbing her thumbs against the underside of his cheeks, fingers massaging his jaw. She always did this. It always made him feel better, lighter.

Magic, almost.

But Hinata didn't have magic.

"I don't know what he said to you," she said, tracing his face with her eyes before locking gazes with him. There was no smile on her face, though she always looked the best with a smile on. But . . . this time, it felt nice to see her so . . . serious. No forced positivity. Not strained grins. It made him hopeful, in a way; hopeful that, maybe, one day, he'd be like her. "I don't know what he said, but when I saw him on the stairs, he looked ready to die. And . . . s-so do you."

Naruto shut his eyes, muffling the sting. "It's fine."

"You wouldn't be hiding under your bed if it was fine." Her thumbs moved to rub gently under his eyes. "You wouldn't have this face if it was fine." When Hinata pressed small circles into the corners of his eyes, he opened them and saw her stark, serious look. "Sasuke wouldn't be waiting like he is if it was fine. Nothing's perfect, Naruto. P-Please . . . just stop forcing it."

Panic erupted from his chest. He snapped his head back and laughed.

"Seriously, Hinata," he said, "it's not that . . . it . . . ."

"There's nothing I can do to change anything." On her knees, she crawled closer, not letting him get too far. "I can't change places with you. I'm not a God, so I can't relate to you like they can. My . . . family is all a-alive, so I can't relate that way, either. B-But I . . . I can still listen. I can be here when you need me. I can remind you that . . . that this is all okay. The sadness, the hopelessness — it's all normal. Human."

When he tried to smile, it was so heavy and hard that he was sure it was more of a grimace. "I'm a God, Hinata."

"Not yet."

His heart cracked and tumbled out of his gaping chest. The pieces were thin and small, like glass, or ash, maybe. Even a breeze could blow them away, but Hinata's wings only stretched out around him, protecting him and the remains of his heart.

"You'll always be human, Naruto."

And it was cold again. Freezing. But rather than at the bottom of the ocean, where he felt like he was suffocating and out of control, Naruto felt like he was floating in the frigid, forever-night sky of Moon. The hair on his arms stood. His fingers curled with ice. But he could move, he could breathe.

"You said . . . Sasuke's still out there?"

Hinata offered another hand, and when he took it, she helped him to his feet, brushed something off his face, and led him out of his room.

...

He was pacing on the edge of the staircase, dark hair tangling in the wind. When they came from the palace, he stopped and stared, and his wings bent down to the marble, heavy.

"I shouldn't have said that," Sasuke said, gliding up the stairs. Hinata stepped away and gave Naruto room to breathe. "I . . . I didn't mean it. You're not like that at all. I don't know what I was thinking."

Naruto sniffed and watched the bits and pieces of his heart tumble away in the wind. He knocked a fist into Sasuke's shoulder, then shoved him back, nearly knocking him down the staircase. After that, he took one, large step and wrapped his arms around his shoulders.

"Bastard!" he yelled, voice trembling with his tears. "Gods, you're such a bastard!"

...

At the funeral of Sasuke's parents, six years ago, Naruto felt hopeless. His friend barely moved, barely spoke, barely breathed. He had no words of comfort that weren't already said, no gentle expression that wasn't already expressed. All he had was his Sun warmth, but when he grabbed Sasuke's hand, he snapped away and stole the heat from his entire being.

But this wasn't like that.

Because Sasuke stayed. He barely moved, barely spoke, barely breathed, but he stayed and made Sun all the warmer.

"What am I going to do?" Naruto whispered into his shoulder.

No answer in the world that Sasuke could come up with would help anything, would fix everything. It was an aimless question, but Naruto had to ask, if just to let go of that one, thin string of hope still holding him together.

Around them, maids watched and people stared.

Waiting. Waiting with their Apollo.

"You do what you have to," Sasuke said, bringing a hand to his back, "and six years later, when your friend needs you the most, you act like a piece a shit and try to pretend like it still doesn't hurt."

A sob interrupted the laugh that tried to escape him, and Naruto gave him another shove before hugging him closer.

...

"Did it hurt? When you killed your father."

The Sand King was young for his role. He had only been fifteen when his father grew sick and the duties of the Gods were placed on him. But from the looks of the city of Sand 1 from the balcony of Gaara's chambers, there was a grand peace that came with the new ruler. No more selfish king, no more Devil that left fear in his footprints; though Gaara was haunted by the legacy of his father, he took his role with stride, never looking back.

Naruto wondered if that would be him one day. Would he be just as strong as his friend?

"Ah." The hum was dry like the realm he ruled, and Gaara turned away from the horizon to stare at him. "That's right. It's almost that time for you." Like Sasuke, Gaara had some trouble expressing himself properly. He gave a small bow to his head and dropped his gaze. "You shouldn't ask me. I'm not a good example of how it usually is."

Naruto sat next to him on the balcony's edge, back facing the city. "It didn't hurt?"

"Not one bit," he said. "I felt nothing but relief to free my family from that man."

"Even . . . if he was your own father?"

"My father wasn't like your mother, Naruto. He was just a Devil." Rubbing the back of his neck, bits of sand falling from his skin, Gaara peered down at the ground below them. "Ask one of the others. Shikamaru had to kill his father. Toneri killed his mother. I can't help you with this one."

"That's not true," Naruto said, smile small but genuine. "It's good to know —" He gestured back at the city behind him, "— and to see that some good comes from this, no matter who it is that has to die."

Gaara tried to match his smile, and to the east, the sun spilled over the horizon and brought color to the realm.

"I'll look forward to the first Regenbogen you bring, Naruto."

He laughed, then croaked. "I doubt it will beat my mother's."

Shaking his head, the Sand King basked in the light of the new dawn. "She'll be up there, with you. I think it will be the best one yet."

...

When he went to Moon, Toneri was already by the arching doors of the palace, waiting for him. The gardens of Moon flowers surrounding the pathway sprung to life as he graced down the polished, glistening stone to meet Naruto halfway.

"The day is coming close."

Not the one to beat around the bush. It almost made Naruto laugh.

Almost.

"Looks like you already know why I'm here."

"Gaara sent a letter my way." Toneri pulled his robes closer to his body. They . . . fit him. Perfectly. Like they were made for him. When he wore them, did he think about his mother, how she used to wear them? Did it make him sick to his stomach at the mere thought of it? "He told me to take care of you and to be gentle when I explain it all."

"He said he felt nothing when he killed his father — except for relief, at least." Naruto stood in the center of the pathway, and the closest flowers turned away from him, coiling into themselves. "But I know it was different for you."

"It was," Toneri said.

Naruto shifted, feeling off center. His wings sank, feathers brushing against the ground. "How . . . did you bring yourself to do it?"

Toneri looked out at his garden of flowers, which seemed to stretch on for miles. A field of glowing white. Like his dim, dour eyes.

"She begged," he murmured. "She begged for me to kill her. She was in so much pain — if I didn't, I would just prolong her suffering."

Naruto hated the image that came to his head — his beautiful mother, begging for death, for him to kill her. His gut twisted, and he shook his head. "I'm so sorry," was all he could think to say. "I know she loved you. It must have hurt to do that to her."

Toneri smiled, but it was so lopsided and odd, it reminded Naruto of the one's he'd try to force when it got tough for him.

"But . . . Gaara told me that when I'm king, my mom will be there with me, raising the sun with me." He put a hand on his chest, then swept it to the field of glowing flowers. "I'm sure your mother is doing the same."

"Doesn't that mean Gaara's father is with him?"

Naruto stopped breathing, if only for a second. "I . . . but it's different for us. Do you understand what I mean?"

"Yes." This smile was a lot more . . . natural on Toneri's face, and he turned away from the field and finally looked at Naruto. "Sun and Moon aren't that different from one another, after all. Isn't that right?"

Naruto almost had the mind to tell him that, really, Moon had it better than Sun. Because there was at least darkness in Moon, and you didn't have to hide under your bed to escape it all and stop pretending. But he didn't say a word, only nodding, and Toneri took his arm and led him through the field.

"I shouldn't," he said, looking down at the wilting petals by his feet. "I'll kill them."

"That's fine." Toneri pulled him further, and before he knew it, there was a trail of dead Moon flowers behind them. "I need to replace them, anyway."

...

Dim and blinking was Naruto's bedroom when he woke up that morning, and dread poured over him, soaking him completely, sinking ice into his skin.

It came — the day.

Today, he'll become the Sun king.

And his mother . . . .

Anxiety yanked him out of bed, his feet numb to the floor beneath him as he went over to the large desk on the opposite wall, where the maids had placed his outfit for the day. Finely pressed and wrinkless, gold and gems adorning the cuffs of his tunic, it was the perfect Sun 1 attire. That made bile burn the pit of his throat. Did they know? Did they look into the future and see that he would be killing his mother that day?

But — then — then why didn't anyone warn him!?

Didn't he deserve to know?

Shouldn't he not have to wake up to dying, faint sunlight and know his world was about to end?

A tap came to the door.

"My Grace —"

"Don't!" he yelled, grabbing the back of the chair by the desk and throwing it against the wall. "Don't call me that! I'm not the king yet!"

"You must get dressed."

He sunk his teeth into his tongue, glaring down at the fine fabric set nicely before. No. He wouldn't. There was no way he was ever leaving that room —

"Your . . . mother is sick."

What?

"She's asking for you, My Grace."

Sick? But he had just seen her last night, before he went to bed. She was fine. No shadows of illness. No hobble in her step of paleness to her face. She — She was fine!

Shuddering, Naruto grabbed the outfit set for him, twisting white knuckles into the fabric, before murmuring, "Alright."

...

"Naru . . . to . . . ."

His mother was dying. He knew just by her voice; didn't even have to look at her. And he wouldn't. Because if he did, he knew he'd die right with her, and then Sun would have no ruler, and the sun would cease to exist.

He was on the balcony of her chambers. The one that looked East, towards the city. The dim light that encased the district was a sick, terrible thing. He could hear the moans of terror from his people. Many were out of their homes, standing in the streets, watching and waiting, wriggling in fear.

Naruto felt like he was right there with them.

No. Not here. Not in front of everyone.

The vibrant red of his mother's hair swayed in the corner of his eye, and he took a quick glance of her figure, hunched over the railing, a white hand hanging to the post, barely keeping her upright. Immediately, he was nauseous, and he looked away.

"Does it have to be today?"

The wind captured her trembling, weak breath and blasted it against his face.

"Come here."

He didn't want to. He wanted to go back to his room. He wanted to burn these clothes and throw the ashes under his bed. But these were probably Kushina's final words, so he crept over and knelt down to her side, staring at that hand that grasped onto the white post.

It lifted and found his face, and it was so cold and lifeless that he felt everything sting. His eyes, his chest — everything.

"Do you hear it?" She guided him to look at her, but he closed his eyes, not wanting to see her face. "The thrumming?" Her hand pressed against the back of his neck and moved him closer, and somewhere inside her, there was singing and buzzing and a voice — Let me out! it called in words only his ears could decipher. Let me free! "It's calling for you. Come, Naruto. Take it."

"I —" His head snapped down when something was pushed into his hands. A dagger, its handle gold and decorated with gems. "I-I don't want to."

The world got darker, but he didn't notice, didn't care.

"Naruto." An ounce of force was behind his mother's voice, and that must have been such a strain for her, because immediately after she slipped off the railing and fell into him. He grabbed her, gasping, crying, and she didn't even move an inch. "They need you."

The entire universe was groaning in agony.

Sun 1 was cracking apart, freezing up. His people would die.

"I —"

"I need you," Kushina whispered, head laid against his shoulder. "Please, Naruto." When he swallowed and looked down, he saw every line of pain, every wrinkle of agony. Her eyes were dead, like he had already killed her. Her skin was thin, no longer hiding the sick blue and purple veins that struggled to continue to pump blood through her body. "Please. Please."

"Please, Apollo," the people cried from below.

"Please, Sun King," the sky weeped.

"Please, Naruto," the thrum in his mother's chest called.

He thought he had prepared himself for this. Toneri had warned him — his mother begged for death, and now was his, and the entire realm was begging for it, as well.

There was nothing he could do.

There were no shadows to hide in. Nowhere to run.

"She begged for me to kill her. She was in so much pain — if I didn't, I would just prolong her suffering."

"I-I'm so sorry!"

Naruto screamed when the blade sunk into his mothers chest.

"I don't want to do this! I don't want to do this!"

She sighed, and out of her lungs came a warmth he would never feel again.

"Mom," he sobbed, shaking, still holding the dagger, blood dripping onto his pants and down her white blouse. "Mom. I'm scared. I don't like this."

"It's okay, baby." She took his trembling hands and helped him sink it in further. "You did it. I love you." Further and further. Through muscle that didn't even try to put up a fight. "I love you, my little king."

She stopped moving. Her body was cold and heavy.

He felt like he was on fire. Something sprung into his chest, bouncing around, aggravated and hot and fighting him. He gasped and choked and cried, and with a hollow exhale, sunlight poured out of his mouth and lit up the universe once again.

...

There were cries of joy. Cheering. Laughter.

Sun 1 had a new king. A new Apollo.

And no one even blinked at the corpse at the old one.

...

"N-Naruto!"

There was a swoosh of feathers, and then Sasuke and Hinata landed on the balcony.

"Don't touch her," he told them, the words dripping like sunshine down his lips, mixing into the blood surrounding him. "Please don't touch her. I'm trying to keep her warm."

Sasuke frowned and knelt down next to him.

"Please," Naruto begged, squeezing his eyes shut, holding his mother closer. "Please."

They didn't touch her. They just settled next to him as the world cheered and shined. Hinata's tears mixed in with the blood and sunlight, and Sasuke's shallow and fearful breathing shook the warm air, and they stayed with him and mourned the death of the Sun Queen.

"I thought it was just Gods," he whispered, one hand pressed against the leg of his desk as the other tugged at the front of his robes. "But it's not. They all die. All of them. You're not a God, but they died. And Hinata's not a God, but — but they all died, too. All of them. Her parents. Hanabi —"

"Naruto." Sasuke looked around the room, then back at him.

"Murdered!" he shrieked, head knocked back into his desk, heart crawling out of his mouth, trying to escape the tight cage of his chest. "Every one of them. Yours, too. And mine — I-I — I had to, but does that matter? I'm still a murderer. What if I killed Hinata's family, too?" His scared eyes finally looked at Sasuke. "What if it was because of me? What if that bastard found out and killed them!"

"You don't know that."

"You don't, either!"

Sasuke shook his head. "Naruto, the autopsy report said they were killed ten months ago, when Hinata left Moon 2. You had nothing to do with it —"

"But that's worse!" A coppery stench came from the silks of his robe, and he felt sick. "Because if that's the case, then she'll think it's her fault —"

Sasuke scowled. "We both know it's not."

Naruto ran his hands through his unkept hair, shaking his head. "That's not the problem. She'll think it and it will kill her. Sasuke, it will kill her!"

And they both knew what that felt like, both had to go through stages of their life where that was all they felt and believing that was all they would ever feel. Sasuke had been eleven and Naruto had been dreading it since he was a child. But Hinata — she had a million things on her shoulders. If this got out to her, if she found out her main drive to go back home was stolen away from her, murdered gruesomely, ten months ago, when she was blissfully unaware and still sure they were there, hiding and waiting for her —

She would die.

"You're forgetting something." Sasuke's clear voice cut Naruto's rapid, sinking thoughts in half. "They're not all dead."

Naruto thought back to the pictures of the bodies in the report.

"Neji . . . ."

Sasuke nodded and grabbed his shoulder. "For all we know, he's alive. If Itachi hadn't been there for me, I wouldn't be here. And if you didn't have Iruka, you wouldn't be here. We have to trust it will be the same for her."

Naruto tried to just nod and agree, but he couldn't help the paranoid thoughts running through his head. What if Neji had been killed, but his body just hasn't been found? What if he was captured by someone, being tortured? What would they say to Hinata?

"Hey." A light tug came from Sasuke. "It will work out."

Naruto's breath shuddered and boiled in the air. Sasuke grabbed his elbow and helped him out from under the desk.

"You really think so?" he asked, and there was no hesitation in Sasuke's nod. That made him feel a bit better. "Thank you for coming. You're probably right." But his mind still hung a rather dour topic at hand. "How . . . are we going to tell her?"

Sasuke turned his head away, not looking off at anything. His fingers caught the fabric of his cloak, a habit Naruto knew well. Mikoto Uchiha had made that cloak. When Sasuke held it in such a way, it was akin to a child holding onto his mother's hand, hiding at her side, letting her protect him from the world.

"I'll tell her."

Naruto was too aware of things now to let the creeping dread in Sasuke's tone slip past him.

"No," he said, "I should. It came to me first."

Sasuke's shoulders dipped an inch, and no complaints came his way.

"But," Naruto added, quieter this time, "you see her more than me. When I break the news — please, can you . . . ."

No words or gestures came, and they weren't needed for him to know Sasuke would take care of her for him.

"Thank you," he sighed, and somehow smiled.

Sasuke scoffed, turning back to him. "Don't say it too soon, idiot," he muttered. "You don't know how well this may go for me."

Things were moving quickly by.

She hadn't agreed to Orochimaru's offer not two days ago, and already, things were being settled for Hinata in the Guard. Caught in movement and sound, Hinata was helplessly stuck in the middle of what she was quite sure would be her new office. People surrounded her, lifting in furniture and placing books on the two, mighty shelves in the back. There was a mahogany desk in the back center, simple and clean. It looked a bit like Karin's desk, without the piles of paperwork and calendars and schedule notes plastered on every inch of the smooth surface.

Pleather seats were sat against the wall opposite of the desk, and with a bit of twisting and ducking, Hinata managed to get out of the way and sat down on the one closest to the door.

The room had looked big; but now, with all the furniture and people inside, it was quite small. Not in a bad way, of course. Hinata found it awfully comfortable. And it was because of that reason did she play with the ends of the black cloak upon her shoulders, wondering what she could have possibly done in her foggy past that deserved her of such a thing.

"It's too nice." If any of the people inside weren't so busy, they would have stopped and stared at her, wondering if she had said anything. It was such a quiet statement. Of course. It was meant only for the ears of her cousin, who floated by the chair to her left, passively watching the movement about them. "Somehow, I feel a bit overwhelmed."

Neji just gave a noncommittal grunt, and were it a few weeks ago, Hinata would have blinked in shock at him. From what she knew of him in her limited memory, he was not much of a talker, but he was never the kind to hold back on correcting her. Feeling undeserving of such an office, Hinata knew, was silly; it didn't stop her from feeling it, but she knew it was true. And so did Neji, and in any other case, he would have done well in telling her such.

But not today.

And Hinata was not a fool as to why.

Yesterday, something happened. When she went to Ino for her spontaneous, secretive meet-ups, she had decided it was about time she started remembering her family. She knew, after all, that her main goal in all of this madness was to return home, to Moon, to them — it would be quite a shock if she got up there and didn't even recognize them.

But just as those words had left her mouth, Neji had appeared, frowning, eyes sharp with frustration, with anger, with —

"Do not remember them, Lady Hinata."

Fear.

Why was he afraid?

And she had given him the most aghast look, not caring what Ino thought. Hinata suspected she had an idea about Neji, anyhow, with how she just sat back and listened to Hinata's seemingly one-sided conversation without a word of confusion. Ino couldn't see him, Hinata knew. Her eyes never found his figure, never followed him when he drifted about the cell. But she knew something.

"Why?" Hinata had asked Neji. Because he was her cousin. He wanted her to go back to Moon, to remember. He of all people should be the one pushing her to regain her memories of her family.

Instead, he just stepped between her and Ino, like a barrier between her and her memories. "You can ask about your parents," he said. "About Hiashi. About your mother. But . . . just that. Just them."

Did she have more family? Siblings? Aunts and uncles?

Why would he not want her to remember them? And him — he was a part of her family. Why could she not remember him?

"Neji, why?"

"Just listen to me!" he snapped, then balked, then moved away and sneered. "Please."

And Hinata had been so startled, so bemused, that she couldn't say a word against him. She just apologized to Ino, said she wasn't feeling too well, and left the cell without any new memories swarming in her head.

A day later, the tension was still in his form, and Hinata didn't know what to do, what to say. She couldn't ask — he wouldn't answer her, and he'd just get angry again.

Voice dying on her tongue, Hinata curled a bit into the chair, blankly watching the room transform around her.

...

"Miss Moon Witch."

Was it strange that she was already used to the slimy voice of the Guard's Head Chief? When it slithered through the crack in the doorway and twisted around her ankles, she only gave it a glance before she stood to meet Orochimaru as he, like a God of his own kind, strutted into her small office. He looked entirely too massive for that room, and the unnatural white of his skin contrasted with the deep browns about him.

If Hinata was anyone else, or, perhaps, had a death wish, she would have laughed at the sight alone.

"Good . . . morning," she said, bowing her head.

He hummed in greeting, rounding her desk and tracing his thin fingers along the spines of the books on her shelves.

"What a humble beginning for you," he mused, turning his head a bit her way, black hair pouring like water (or, maybe, blood was a better description) over his shoulder. "You are very lucky to be given such a gift. Not many therapists start off with their own office."

Hinata swallowed and tried to smile. "Thank you for your kindness." If Suigetsu was there, surely he'd sneer at her overly-polite tone.

An amused hum tickled the air, and Orochimaru went back to the doorway, dipped a shoulder in a quiet command for her to follow, then stepped out into the hallway. Out there, next to the wall, Shino watched the people pass by. Hinata smiled in greeting, and his chin dipped in acknowledgment.

"And aren't you blessed with having such an astounding neighbor," Orochimaru continued, facing the door to the right of her office, a silver plaque over it with perfect, cursive font carved into it. "Because of your special circumstances, I thought it fitting for you to be situated right with our Kabuto." Wait. The doctor? "He will have much to teach you, I'm sure you are aware."

A small drop of apprehension fell and swirled with the acid in her stomach, and Hinata struggled to keep her smile as fire licked at the scars on her back, burning with memory.

"H-How kind of you," she whispered.

Orochimaru didn't bother to listen as he pushed down the latch to Kabuto's door and opened it. "She's quite settled, I believe," he said into the room. "Won't you come greet her?"

A shuffle. A click. Footfalls that made her heart beat faster. When Kabuto exited his grand office, silver hair pulled back in a low ponytail, specks flashing in the torch light, the familiar, swaying, ominous white coat wasn't anywhere in sight. His dark eyes dipped down to her with zero enthusiasm in his gaze, and an irk came to his lips when he eyed her door next to his.

"We meet again," he sighed. "How fortunate for us."

Orochimaru only gave a twisted smile as he turned. "I'll leave the rest to you. I'll visit again to see your progress, Moon Witch."

And Hinata must have been out of her mind, for she nearly had the mind to call out, to say, "No, wait. Stay! Please stay!" Because that cold doctor who sunk his tools into her skin with little remorse and threw her into a dark cell with even less remorse shredded his indifferent expression the moment Orochimaru left, and the sinking line of his lips that was tainted with black weeds was nothing less than peeved.

...

"You start with reading every book in this room."

Hinata tried to gage the number of thick textbooks on her shelf — there had to be at least seventy!

"U-Um —"

"To be a therapist, you need to know these books better than your own name." Kabuto paused in the middle of the office, which shrunk a size or two with him in there with her. "But that wouldn't be too difficult for you, now would it, Moon Witch."

A noise, something like a hiss, escaped the once quiet Neji, and Hinata felt heat build up in her chest.

"I —"

Kabuto sighed again and gave her a sharp look. "Will you be standing there and looking like a moron all day? I said you need to read them."

Her throat tightened where the swallow started, leaving her choked and breathless. Wordless. She slinked around him and stepped to the towering shelves that looked down at her and smirked with their millions of words.

Her hand grabbed one, and behind her, the door slammed shut.

...

Hinata has been reading for six hours. Nonstop.

Her eyes felt like they could shrivel up in her skull and blew away in the soft breeze coming in through the crack beneath her door.

Her shoulders hurt. Her back hurt. Her head hurt. Everything hurt.

Take a break, she told herself, placing her book down and standing from her seat at the desk. Every bone in her body cracked, and she stretched and massaged the back of her neck, realized the dryness in her mouth and the rumbling pit in her stomach, and went to the door to get some water and food.

But the second her foot touched the carpeted floor in the hallway —

"What do you think you're doing?"

Kabuto was leaning against the frame of his door, frowning at her.

Her heart stopped. Would it ever start again? Probably not. And she doubted the doctor had the soul or patience to bring her back to life.

"U-Um." Her vocal cords trembled and cried out for water, for hydration. "I just want to quickly —"

"No," he said, crossing his arms. "You cannot. You have reading to do."

Oh, she was aware. "But I —"

"Every second you're out here arguing with me is a second you're not doing what you're supposed to be doing."

"Yes, I understand, but I'm hungry and —"

"I don't care," Kabuto drawled.

Oh — there, her heart started up again. Racing. Agitated and desperate. "But I'll starve —"

"Then starve."

Her hands went up to her gills, which flexed, pained. "And if I don't get water, I'll dehydrate and —"

"Then die." Kabuto turned back to his room. "A good therapist would pass peacefully in the midst of their work with no complaint. Are you a good therapist or not, Moon Witch?"

He left, and Hinata marched back into her room, slamming the door shut behind him, and dropped onto her chair and yanked the heavy textbook back into her hands.

I'll be a great therapist! she yelled in her mind, huffing, eyes scanning the sentences with sharp, angry focus. The best! And then I'll be telling you when to eat and not eat!

...

A quiet knock came to her door less than an hour later, and Hinata, sure it was a trick, ignored it and continued her reading. Kabuto was probably testing her, seeing if she would stray from her studies.

That — that —

The door creaked open, and the chirping and humming of bugs coaxed her eyes away from off-white pages.

"O-Oh, Shino."

He put a hand to his mouth as he slowly closed the door behind him and came up to her desk. There, he placed a plate of smoothing good-smelling and two, full glasses of water.

"Have luck," he said, then tapped at his neck, where gills would be if he had any. "Good health come good focus. This I know. You can trust this Shi-no."

Hinata would have cried if she wasn't so terribly afraid of dehydrating, and she grabbed two of his four hands and held them close, putting her warmth into them.

"Thank you very much, Shino," she whispered, grinning. "Once I'm out of here, I hope you'll play your music for me again."

His lips tipped in an almost-smile, and he pushed the water to her before turning and leaving, as if he were never there at all.

...

Another five hours passed, and Hinata was struggling to keep her eyes open, as if metal weights were stuck to her eyelids.

She was in the middle of dozing off, textbook #4 acting as a pillow for her lumbering head, when Shino's voice outside the door pulled her back into consciousness.

"Enter not."

"Aburame, I must check on her progress. Move." That was Kabuto's voice, and Hinata snapped up and adjusted herself.

"Focus. She must . . . focus."

"We both know that. I'm in charge of her. This is my job. Move."

Thank you, Shino, Hinata cried in her head, making a note to repay him somehow in the near future for all the help he's given her just today alone. The door handle sunk, and Kabuto entered not a second later, eyes surveying her face.

"You're awake." He sounded disappointed.

Hinata's smile was tight. "Yes."

"How many have you read?" He eyed the shelves.

"Four. But —"

"Four." Kabuto looked down at her, scowling. "Only four?"

Could he not see how incredibly thick the books were? She's read at least three-thousand pages! "I —"

"Our Head has put much effort into bringing you here. He sees something in you — but I'm not so sure if I see it, as well."

Her jaw dropped. "But how would you —"

"I had hoped to see some effort put into this. It's not an easy job. You have to do more than this if you truly wish to be a part of the Guard."

"Yes," Hinata tried to say, "but I am —"

"How disappointing," Kabuto muttered. "We were hoping for your help, but if you don't see any reason to give it your best, then —"

"Please!" Hinata shot to her feet, the pages of her book, flipping with her sudden movement. "Please, let me finish just one sentence without you interrupting me!"

There was a flitter of something on Kabuto that passed too quickly, and he gave her the look of a parent who just watched and listened to their child throwing a tantrum. "Therapists need to be patient to truly listen to and understand their patience. Clearly, you lack this."

What? She had patience! She's had to spend the entire day around him, following his orders and —

"Therapists also need empathy," she said, hands planted on her desk. "Clearly, you lack this."

Not a blink, a grimace, a show of anger or shame or guilt or anything! Kabuto kept that flat face that remained unfazed but the very words she spouted.

"Mm."

That noise sounded like her cousin, and Hinata felt like she was fighting a war she could not win.

"I . . . I'm here, aren't I?" Her fingers gripped the edge of the table, and her gaze bowed, not out of fear, but simply so she wouldn't have to look at him anymore. "I could have said no. I was fine in The Hall. But I came because the Guard needs me. I want to help. I'm not going to selfishly keep this gift of mine to myself." Her right shoulder jerked back to the shelf. "I care. I'm reading the books. I haven't left the office at all. Can't you see I'm trying?"

His brow rose, eyes lidded, before he kissed his teeth and went to the door.

"I have work to do," he said. "Do what you must, just stop wasting my time."

He opened the door as her head snapped up.

"D-Does that mean —"

"What?" he drawled, not looking back. "Do you need my permission, Hinata?"

He didn't close the door behind him, and a moment later, Shino stepped in, head tilted a tad, wondering if what he just overheard was real.

Honestly, Hinata couldn't believe it, herself.

...

"Where go?" he asked her as she pushed the books back into their spot on the shelf, making sure they stood straight without a bend to their spines. "Home?"

Over her shoulder, she smiled at him. "Suigetsu, please."

...

"I think I can understand why you do not like Kabuto."

He was still in a coma, breath steady, face placid, body still. There was no guarantee he could hear her or understand her, but still, Hinata would come and talk to him, updating him on everything happening about her, everything she's heard, everything she's remembered thanks to Ino.

Fresh in her mind were his words to him about a month ago, when she was visiting him in the cell and he was ranting on about Kabuto. Thinking back on it with the knowledge she has now made her laugh, and she comped a hand through his hair, checking for tangles, making sure everything about him was kept. She wouldn't want him to wake up looking like a mess.

"I'll agree that he is . . . complicated. Frustrating, at times." The room was so different from her office: bright and empty and big. It felt nice. She felt like she could breathe. "He wants me to read seventy books, Suigetsu. I thought I would have starved to death before finishing."

"That sound about right," she imagined he would say, mouth caught between a scowl and a smirk. "Gods, what a prick."

"But he can't be all bad. He let me come see you."

"Guppy." Her heart ached at the name, and she pulled her hand from his hair and wiped at her eyes. "You haven't had to deal with him for five years! Come back after that and tell me how much you like him."

She smiled.

"And hey — speaking of you liking . . ."

Blinking, she glanced down at his unmoving face.

"Naruto?"

"Hmmm?" His eyes would have been glittering if they were open, she was sure. "No, not him."

Her ribs felt like they were made of rubber, curling, squeezing her heart. "I —" And her face was hot, despite such a cold room. "I don't — and, u-um, besides — I haven't seen Sasuke since —"

"Woah, woah," Suigetsu would snicker. "I never said anything about Sasuke, Guppy."

Even unconscious, he still managed to get under her skin.

"S-Suigetsu!"

"Hey, you said it, not me."

"I-I —" Gods, she could melt. Or combust. Either option was very possible. "I don't like him in that way."

He clicked his tongue. "Don't say that in front of him. You'll break his poor, Uchiha heart."

Something hard shoved against her chest, forcing air out of her body. Out of the tangled mess of her memories, she remembered something that was stuck in the back of her mind, waiting, molding into her consciousness. She had kissed him. Her memory was gone, and out of obliviousness, she had kissed him. And when he had pulled away —

"Not yet."

And later on, again out of obliviousness, she had almost confessed to him. And — And he had said —

"I'll wait, Hinata."

That . . . wasn't something a friend said to another friend. Suigetsu knew that. Hinata . . . knew that.

But . . . should she really believe it? And even if she did — what then?

Because . . . Naruto . . . .

"Gods, Guppy, stop being so serious," Suigetsu would tell her, and she would have to smile and nod and try to do just that.

"I miss you," she whispered to him, fanning her fingers along his gills, clear and weedless.

His mouth was pursed, but she could hear his smile when he said, "I'm not going anywhere, Hinata."

A watery laugh caught in her throat, she leaned over and pressed her lips against his cheek. "Wake up soon, Suigetsu."

He sighed, and she pushed his hair out of his face and listened to him breathe for a little longer.

...

Halfway to her office, Shino at her side, Hinata spotted Sasuke across the way and thought, surely, she was seeing things. But that was a silly thought. This was the Guard. He worked here. Of course he would be here.

But even across the way, she spotted the stickers. There was none that were covering the spots she had cleared up, per se, but there were ones that were stacking on top of the remaining weeds. And on cue, her heart sank, and she turned to Shino, smiling, and said, "I am going to go talk to Sasuke. You can go get something to eat, if you'd like."

His antennae twitched. "Safe?"

She nodded. "When you're done, I'll be in my office. Thank you."

Shino lingered for a moment more, then turned and left in the direction of the cafeteria. With a hot breath smoldering in her lungs, Hinata turned and walked up to Sasuke. He noticed her on her trek over, finished the conversation he was having with another Guard member, and dipped his head when she came to stand in front of him.

"Hello, Sasuke. You must be busy."

His eyes stayed on the ground, and he muttered, "Yes."

Those stickers looked tightly knitted together. Hinata had to grab onto her cloak to keep herself from reaching for his face.

"Have you heard about me being here, now? Orochimaru — a-ah, Our Head asked me to join the —"

"Yes," he said, "I know it all."

Her voice nearly fizzled onto her tongue. Almost.

"Would you . . . like to see my office?"

Her guess was that the stress was work-related. Hopefully the distraction would give him some room to breathe, and maybe, in the privacy of her office, he'll share his mind with her, and she could help — or at the very least listen.

His face did not move, but when her gaze dropped, she saw his hand grip and un-grip his cloak.

Then —

"Lead the way."

So she did, making sure he was at her side the entire way there.

...

With Orochimaru and Kabuto in the office with her, it always seemed to shrink with their power.

But not with Sasuke.

When Sasuke stepped inside, lightning trapped in his chest, katana buzzing at his side, wings sunk in his back, waiting to be let out, the room did not shrink. It stayed comfortable, perfect.

"I-It's not as big as Karin's," Hinata said, feeling a bit nervous, for some reason. "But I like it." She went to the shelves and tapped the grand wood. "And Kabuto is having me read all of these. It's definitely a lot, but I know I . . . can . . ."

Her words whispered away when she saw the strain on Sasuke's face when he looked around, a hand on the back of one of her chairs. It took her a minute to realize the obvious — oh, right. Therapists. Sakura.

"I'm sorry."

He shook his head. "It's nothing."

It was sometimes a struggle to situate her memories, and Hinata felt unbalanced and ashamed. "I wasn't trying to upset you."

"You didn't." He stepped away from the chair and took a look at the shelves she was by, then the desk in front of her. "It's nice," he murmured. "Congratulations."

Pride flooded her body, and Hinata could not hide the smile. "It will take me a while, but . . . I think this is where I need to be." Her head tipped a bit to catch his eye. "To help people, right?"

But he didn't look back. He was still avoiding her gaze.

"Sasuke." Hinata took a small step his way, hoping not to scare him away or get him defensive. "Won't you tell me what's wrong?"

Buzz came to the air, but the room stayed the same. The walls did not close in. It didn't feel packed or crowded.

"Have you heard anything from Naruto?"

Naruto? "No," she said. "I've been here all day."

"Then within the next week, you will. When you do, go see him. It's important."

"Is that what this is about?" she asked. "Is this what you're worried about?" He didn't say anything, but she knew she was right. "Sasuke, you can tell me —"

"I can't," he pressed, fists trapped in his cloak. "I can't, Moon Witch."

Her heart galloped and wallowed, because he sounded like how he had when his parents died: small, desperate, angry, hurt. She circled around the desk and grabbed the end of his sleeve, ducking under his looming figure, trying to get a better look at his face.

"That's fine," she said. "It's okay to not talk about it now. Really."

Her hand snuck up and found his cheek, the one still covered in weeds. They were as tight as they looked, and she couldn't get them off. But when she looked, she saw his eyes, which matched the dour color of the stickers, were finally looking at her, and with a sight, he leaned down and pressed his face into her shoulder.

"Come on, Moon Witch. Stop doing this to me."

The walls were pressed into them, squeezing them close together. It was cramped and hot, and Hinata had to put her hands on his back to give them some room.

...

"But . . . I can still wait, can't I?"

"For your confession."

Hinata Hyuuga didn't know what to think about those words, about the feelings Sasuke Uchiha could possibly have for her. She didn't know what to believe — was it real, or was it just her desperate mind searching for something that wasn't there.

And . . . if it was the second option, didn't that mean she wanted him to feel that way towards her?

Hinata Hyuuga didn't know.

But right now, a few weeds on Sasuke Uchiha's cheek loosened and tumbled beneath her fingers, and all she could do was hold him closer and hope, one day, he'd be free from it all.

Chapter 23 - End