Pluck

by PianoCoat

AU. Realms away from her family, unable to reach them, Hinata has herself tucked away between dimensions, using her strange ability to see other's "stickers" to meet new faces and try to get back to her home. When the infamous Thor warrior Sasuke Uchiha stumbles upon her, she soon begins to realize that stickers aren't the only things she can pluck from people.

24. Chapter 24 - Potential

- Pluck -

Part II

Chapter 24: Potential

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Companion song: The Heavens by Sid Acharya (for mostly the second half of the story)

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Slight Chapter Warning: There is nothing terribly graphic at all, but there is a small portion of harassment nearing the middle of this chapter. Not sexual assault, just unwanted attention and some aggression from the perpetrator. It's a tough and tricky situation that I don't want to just throw you into without warning, and while it is certainly not the focus of the chapter, it will hold importance in later chapters. In other words, there is a reason for it to happen, and I'm not adding it in just for the sake of "drama". I hope that gives you some context. Thank you.

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Reading was not how Hinata wanted to spend the next two weeks.

Not that she had particularly anything else to do, so perhaps there was no essential reason to complain.

Day and night, she was cooped in that small office of hers. Even sleep would not allow her to escape the words of the pages, haunting her, tickling the underside of her jaw until she was awake and mumbling page 67 of Talk is Not Enough ("Always keep an eye open when in the presence of a patient — the most that can be revealed about them may not be in the words they say, but how their body moves as they say them.") over and over and over again. And then she'd be so tightly wound in her tornado of information that constantly roared in her brain that she would simply have to wake up at three in the morning and return to that office with nothing more than a small snack and four hours of sleep.

Neji hated it as much as she did. Sometimes, she felt as if he woke up with her, the visible reflections of his phantom crisping and hardening as she stirred from sleep. He never looked exhausted; that face of his was always the same, as if stuck in time. But that didn't stop him from lagging a bit behind her as he followed her back to the surface, through the gate, and down the Hall towards The Guard.

"Lady Hinata," he would sometimes call if he felt particularly chatty that early, early morning, "you'll tire yourself into the ground if you keep this up."

She knew he was right and didn't even have the mind to try and deny it. But that would not stop her. Being in the heart of the Guard gave her firsthand experience of the kinds of things people dealt with. She's seen men laugh wearily at their broken, untouched shoulders, refusing any help offered to them, as if the loss of the distracting pain would force them to remember the horrors of their job. She's heard what Guards gossiped about to one another as they passed her room — kidnappings, terrorism, horrific battles, political tension. This was their daily life. No wonder Orochimaru had practically forced her to join the therapist team; every one of them needed it, and needed it badly.

And she still had so much to learn, so much to read. Kabuto would sometimes stop by to quiz her on necessary information and bring her records to give her an idea on how to use her learning in real life situations; but he was not only the Head of Therapy, but also a doctor, and the number of injured has seemed to increase in the past week. He barely had time to look over her work and train her, and when he would finally return, she didn't want to be the one slacking behind.

So . . . these short nights and early wake-ups were fine. It helped her catch up, after all.

...

"Hinata."

Bags of heavy sand lay under her eyes, but with a crane of her neck that made her muscles groan, she looked up to find Shino at her door, one of his arms hanging on the side of the door as the other three gripped the frame. His antenni hung close to the mass of black weeds hugging his upper face, and out of instinct alone, her fingers flexed.

"Breakfast," he said, pulling the door open a little more, a clear invitation for her to pause in her readings and leave with him.

She was halfway through Book #41, her focus teetering on the last sentence of the chapter. It would do her some good, she supposed, to go on with the normal breakfast meeting in the Guard's cafeteria. A short break would not kill her. So Hinata smiled and stretched her arms over her head as she left her desk and followed Shino out the door.

It had begun a simple thing, the breakfast meetings. Shino seemed quite adamant in keeping her well-nutritioned and full-stomached — a grand difference, might she add, from her previous, pesky bodyguard who had the habit of stealing the food from her cupboards and taking drinks from her coffee when he thought she wasn't looking. At first, he would have to nearly drag her away from her reading. In one instance, he had the courage to steal one right from her nose and hold it over her head until she gave in. It took her a good two days to get over the irritation buzzing against her ribs after — from the book-stealing, sure, but mostly from the fact that everyone under the sun seemed taller than her.

After the first day of breakfast, a new guest joined them at their table in the dining area. Karin had a sort of way about her; she simply did what she saw fit, and for the next few weeks, what was fit for her was to sit with them during breakfast to eat and talk over whatever Hinata was learning currently in her studies. About a week ago, all of Hinata's memories of the bright, fiery woman were reinserted into her brain by Ino; but, somehow, she felt like she got even closer to her with their shared work in therapy. Karin had much to teach her, and Hinata always made sure to listen closely throughout their talks over breakfast.

But it wasn't just them.

For only a few days later —

"Oi. Karin."

Sasuke Uchiha joined.

...

That . . . did not shock Hinata at all, and she was slightly ashamed to admit such.

The man, after all, had been coming to see her everyday since he had first walked foot into her office. Without falter. Sometimes, it was only a four-minute chat, as both of them were awfully busy; other times, he'd lounge in her office for a good while, basking in the silence and quiet swipes of her papers fluttering atop one another as she read. He'd ask, sometimes, about what she was learning about, and she would answer truthfully but concisely, so as to not bore him. And then, at times, he'd persuade her to talk more on this or that, and without question, that would start a rumble in her pulse and a run of her tongue that could not be stopped. Before she knew it, she'd have talked for twenty minutes straight without stop, and he would just be in that chair, chin resting in his palm, a sort of amused pull to his face without an outward smile of any sort. Or — or maybe he was smiling, and she just could not see it behind the stickers still stuck to him.

But when he talked — "I see you're enjoying the book, then." — his voice was that normal, unaffected tone, and no manwould be able to speak in such a way and not be able to smile. So it had to be one of those subtle kinds of amusement Sasuke Uchiha did well that made her feel absolutely childish.

And on the third day of the now regular breakfast meetings, just as she and Shino were returning to the office, she had spotted Sasuke leaning against the door. She didn't even have to look at his face. There was an absolute sternness in his hands as he yanked at the cuffs of his gloves, the fabric snapping with his tight movements, the muscles in the small sliver of white arm terse. She didn't have to even look at his face; but when she did, the weeds were dancing.

"Where were you?"

She had a vague memory of dancing. Ino had sunk it into the synapses of her mind when she asked if there were more skills she had aside from the flute-playing she had remembered just a few days prior. There was a sort of waltz in a dim, silvery, foggy place that was haunting. The weeds danced in that way, curling and dipping low like specters lolling between life and death.

There was no doubt Sasuke was in a rough mood.

"I was eating breakfast."

The next step was to figure out why.

Which became just as clear when he pressed his back further into the door and said, "That's nice."

Hinata Hyuuga, she realized, must be a girl with terrible manners.

"I-I'm sorry," she gasped, the knuckles on her right hand knocking together. "If you'd like — tomorrow —"

And then he left. Gone. No more dancing stickers or snapping gloves. All that was left was a slight, sharp heat in the air. Hinata pulled down on the handle, then stopped, caught up in the warmth of the metal. Lukewarm and melting into the tips of her fingers. He must have been there for a while to get such cool metal this warm — his back pressed against it, firm, waiting.

The feeling of it wouldn't leave her hands. She tried to rub it out in the crisp pages of her textbook, but still, Sasuke's warmth stayed.

He must have done it on purpose.

It had been only a silly thought of hers, until the next day, when he was at that table before anyone else arrived. Her hands, still warm, immediately caught the cape of her cloak, and his dark eyes caught the action before brightening in that subtle, Sasuke way.

Then, she knew, he had definitely done it on purpose.

...

From that day on, he had made time to join them for breakfast.

Even today.

She and Karin had been discussing different approaches to a patient with severe social anxiety when Sasuke had swept behind them with a grace and power that no other creature or person in all the universes could muster; or, perhaps, that was just her silly thinking again.

Upon her name being muttered by him, Karin looked up like a — well, not like a child would to a parent. Certainly not. And definitely not like how Neji would sometimes look up at her when she was drifting down the text of her books and he was kneeling beside her, forehead almost touching the lower drawers of her desk. Somehow, this look made Hinata think of — well, as if she were out of her own body — like a spirit of herself — and if she were able to go back in time to those days with no memory and only a cell and Sasuke's cloak to keep her secure — if she looked back at small Hinata and saw those wide, glowing, moonish eyes staring up at the Thor Warrior before her — then maybe that was how Karin looked.

But . . . to classify that —

To give it a name would be —

"Oh, Sasuke."

Karin was to her direct right at the table, and when she turned a bit in her spot on the bench, Hinata was able to get a good look at her curling a lock of hair over her shoulder. Across from her was her bodyguard, who did not give the situation nearly as much attention as he ate his food, antenni flicking this way and that, scoping out the room for any danger.

Sasuke stood with his right knee pressed against the side of the bench she and Karin sat on, his right palm on the table, propping his torso in a bit of a lean that allowed his bangs to sweep over his eyes. Oh, if Hinata could see Karin's face properly, she was sure the stickers behind her glasses would be fluttering with the beat of her pulse.

"Yes?" Karin prompted, waiting a bit for him to talk, then started up again. "Do you have questions about your coming mission, Sasuke? Shall I join you in the office? Why, if you must discuss it now, I can —" Sasuke's left hand found her shoulder, and Karin's jaw nearly fell to the floor. "Sasuke?"

And with little indication of where his thoughts lied upon his face, Sasuke pulled Karin up from the bench. She nearly stumbled into him as he led her out from that little nook between the bench and the cafeteria table, and her hand was pressed against her chest as he towered over her, her three-inch heels doing nothing to aid in equaling his height.

And for the first time since Hinata had met her, Karin seemed absolutely speechless.

"I . . . ."

But Sasuke's gaze never once fell on her as he moved around her and settled himself on the bench next to Hinata, hardly regarding the tray of Karin's food before him as he pushed it across the table.

"You were in my spot," was all he said.

Karin whipped around, face as red as her brilliant hair. Her mouth opened, closed, gaped, twisted, sneered — grunts and hissed breaths escaped her in her fit of anger, and then she stormed to the other side and plopped herself next to Shino.

"Ask, next time." Then, in a lower, more ferocious tone, "Asshat."

Sasuke only relaxed into the heel of his palm, and Hinata laughed and tried to pull Karin out of her fit to continue their discussion.

...

Ino Yamanaka had a gentle way of forming those sunny memories of the Sun King within the confines of Hinata's mind. It was a tricky, sensitive matter — "Like crocheting," Ino had explained once when they both had time to spare for a small chat to distract them from the depressing worries on their shoulders. And Hinata was inclined to believe that it very well must have been like crocheting; carefully looping one memory to another, keeping the line of images tight enough to stay in one piece, yet not too tight, or it would give her a terrible headache later that day. When the chain was finished, Ino would rub her numb hands together, and they would have to wait another few days until she was ready to start up again.

And in regards to the yarn of the craft, Naruto Uzumaki was a particularly strenuous sort. Hence why even after nearly three months of steady memories of him and their past together being looped and tied in her mind, she still barely had half of her memories. And even still, as Ino had noted prior, there were some subjects that even her skillful hands and magical abilities could not knot back into her working head — they were off-limits, hidden behind a lock by the stalker themselves. Hinata would never have all her memories of Naruto. This, she understood.

But that did not make it any easier to deal with.

The process had been on a declining pace ever since she had started her training as a therapist. Not only was her schedule practically spilling over the top of the pot, but with her now being in the Guard, there were more eyes on her, more attention directed her way. She had to be careful; one slip, and the stalker could figure out the entire plot.

But that day, there had been a thin slot of time where Karin was able to slip her into Ino's cell without much notice from others. The familiar, cool feelings of the woman's hands against her temples helped Hinata calm her racing thoughts and buzzing brain for a moment, the pounds of information and procedures and rules quieting their growl to a mere hiss as her thoughts were then thoroughly overwhelmed by the summery presence of Naruto.

That day, she remembered their visits to Sand 1. As a prince, he was close to the other soon-to-be monarchs, especially that of the Sand King himself. Their first adventure there together was at a young age, and they had to wear long jackets to protect their wings from the wind and the sand. It was always hot, but Naruto flourished in the heat, and Hinata flourished with him, because of him. Back then, she had no gills to ache and wither, so the visits were much more comfortable.

Later on in their lives, their visits to Gaara and Sand 1 would not be as often, but they would still make time for Regenbogen. Hinata could almost feel the vibrant colors soaking into her skin, painting her soul. They were always on that balcony from Gaara's study. Her and Naruto, together. He would grin and hum to the praised songs of the realm, and she would watch him glow and feel a tightness in her chest that could only be defined as complete and utter infatuation.

But then Ino pulled back, and the flood of memories ebbed away and gave her room to breathe.

"Have you seen him recently?" she asked as Hinata gathered herself.

Karin was by the door, quiet, not pushing for her to leave in a hurry like she sometimes did when their time was running thin.

Hinata shook her head as she stood. "No. He's . . . busy." The Guard was a grand, boisterous place. Word went around quickly, jumping from one tongue to the other. She knew Naruto had an act to keep. Preparation for his and Sakura's wedding were the highlight of the talk, and Hinata could not help but worry.

To pretend to be in love . . . .

And for Sakura — who she suspected a while ago was actually, truly in love with Naruto —

She wouldn't wish that on her worst enemies.

"I see." Ino tipped her head back, pale face shimmering in the faint lantern light. The blue of her eyes matched the calm coolness that was in her fingers, thrumming with magic, and Hinata again felt herself relax. "It is a messy thing, I know, but I know at the end of all of this — hopefully, we can look back and laugh. At . . . most of it, at least."

The optimism was a tad strained, but Hinata met it with a grateful smile and a soft farewell before she left the cell, holding those words close to her heart.

...

"What was it this time?"

Karin left her halfway to her office to check on the status of a body the Guard was evaluating. Not two steps down the hallway later, Hinata was then accompanied by the electrifying presence of Sasuke Uchiha.

It was no oddity for him to inquire about her recent remembering of her past. Somewhere in the Guard, hidden behind walls, was a record of her progress. To keep things in check and to get a basic understanding of how much has been recovered, the Guard would often ask, in the safety of an isolated room, what she remembered and how she felt after her meetings with Ino.

Sasuke was often the one to ask her — but, this was . . . strange.

The hallway, after all, was not a safe place to discuss such matters at all.

In the corner of her eye, Hinata gave him an inquisitive look; one he did not acknowledge with even the slight bow of his gaze upon her. His face stayed forward, flat, with an utmost indifference to everything: to the bland walls, to the Guards about them, and even to his own question that still hung in the air.

What to make of this? she wondered. A part of her wanted to think of it as a test, to see if she would spill the contents from her mouth with little caution. Did he really think she'd do such a thing? Hadn't she proven already that she was more than careful with how she portrayed herself to the select few who were a part of this plot?

Her own question teetered on her tongue, but she swallowed it and said, in a mild voice, "Something beautiful."

Sasuke's dark eyes stayed unaffected. "Many things are beautiful to you, it seems," he said. "The night sky in Ocean, the first rays of sunrise." Perhaps she was hearing things, but Hinata was sure there was a force on that last word he muttered. "You are captured by many things. Quite easily, I'm inclined to believe."

The way he spoke, the cadence and the subtlety, reminded her of how he spoke to her that time in the bar, when Naruto had dragged him to her about a year ago. He spoke like he had when neither of them remembered the other — when they were strangers. But that did not at all fit with the casual sway of his body as he walked next to her, nor the passive stillness of his weeds.

"Is that wrong?" They made a turn, and the door of her office was in sight. Hinata was preparing herself to take him by the sleeve if he tried to leave and drag him into her office to ask a more direct question to him about whatever the hell he was doing here. "To see the beauty in everything — is that such a horrible sin?"

They reached the door, and the first crack of his detached mask came as a pensive frown came to him. "No," he said after a while, watching as she pressed her hand against the handle and opened the door. "But I don't want to be on the same level as everything else, Moon Witch."

And just as they reached the remote corner of the Guard where no prying ears were within a twenty-foot radius, Sasuke went back to his more direct self, and Hinata sighed in relief.

"Hm?" Her hum tickled with laughter as she swept to her desk. Sasuke locked the door behind him. "Is that what this is about?"

"Were you not aware of it before?" He gave the hefty book on her desk a drifting glance. "Has the training muddied your mind? Shall I go find Kabuto and tell him to go easy on you?"

Hinata gave him a look, a playful, pseudo-offended look that made the smirk in his eyes absolutely glitter.

"Perhaps I was simply startled at the idea of Our Sasuke Uchiha being jealous of such trivial things?"

"Trivial?" His tone mocked her half-hearted offense. "To you, I suppose. But I cannot stand the idea of you just being captured by everything under the sky." He stepped to the other side of her desk and caressed the edge with the side of his thumb. "Shall I remind you of the words you told me not three months ago? What was it — 'Your eyes are very pretty,' you said to me. Do you remember that?"

She did, and her face heated up at her past boldness.

"Well, I'd like to take offense to that if you find every rock and weed as pretty as my eyes, Moon Witch."

And the words he wanted her to say were very clear in the air. "Not at all, Sasuke," she'd say. "You are more grand than anything else in the universes."

But —

But there was no way she could say that!

So she returned to his first question at the start of all this and said, "I remembered Naruto." The smirk drained from his eyes. The offence in his expression was no longer fake or playful. The signs were there, but Hinata dug her hole deeper. "We were kids in some, visiting Sand 1; in others, we were older and watching the sunrise together —"

"Lovely," Sasuke droned.

That stopped her. Somehow, the words had just overtaken her tongue, like a sick sense of justice, of reminding herself that . . . not two years ago, she had been in love with Naruto. Her memories of him were stolen, and that was the only reason why it stopped. It was like a role she had to point out constantly to herself — the role of a faithful, awaiting fiance. That's what she was, wasn't she? And it was best to not stray from that path, wasn't it?

So when she talked about Naruto, it was with a feverish enchantment that was to put a line in the road. Do not step over it, she told herself. Please, for Naruto's sake, don't.

"He always sang when we watched it together. Do you —"

"Well, that's expected from him, isn't it?" Sasuke piped, looking down his nose at her. She hoped he was angry. It would be easier if he was. "He's the Sun King. He does all kinds of shit when the sun rises." Then he took another step forward, his legs pressing into the desk as he leaned over it, over her. "But he's never been in Ocean 11, watching you try to sprout those missing wings from your back and fly back to Moon, now has he?"

Beneath his foot, the line shattered, and Hinata gave a shaky breath.

"No," she whispered, "I guess not."

"I will not sing some moronic song," he continued, "but I do plan on helping that tragic woman get back to Moon. And then, in the future, you'll retell such a thing with that expression just now, and you will not even remember stupid things like sunrises."

Her heart howled and barked, tearing at her chest, begging to get out and to be held by his larger, stronger hands. He stared her down without a moment of hesitancy or timidity in his expression. Those eyes reminded her of the very starry sky she loved so dearly, vast, reaching into her, overtaking her.

"Sasuke." Gods, and she couldn't look away, even if she wanted to — and she did, didn't she? Or was that just another lie she told herself? "When I . . . . What I said about your eyes — I —" And he would not look away and free her from his grasp. Lava oozed down her spine. Her fingers fluttered against the white pages of her book. "It's true. They are pretty — beautiful. Very . . . very beautiful."

He hummed and planted his forearms against the surface of her desk, head now at the same relative level as hers. "Oh?"

Again, he coaxed her to say what he wanted to hear, and this time, she followed along.

"There's nothing like them."

"Nothing?" And there returned the light edge of his voice.

She nodded, unable to say a word, feeling as though she could just faint at any moment.

Sasuke tipped his head a bit. "Should I believe you?"

At that, a soft laugh escaped her. "You always ask that. Do I portray myself as a liar to you, Sasuke Uchiha?"

"I see you as someone who simply loves to flatter people."

"Isn't that what you want? Flattery?"

His eyes crinkled in a way that only happened when one smiled, and even if Hinata could not see it, it took her breath away. "Only if it's the truth."

"Of — Of course it's the truth!"

"Mmh?" He leaned a bit forward. "Then divulge me. Flatter me more. After all you've put me through, I think I deserve it."

Her face bowed as her hand captured her mouth to muffle her laugh. "Goodness, Sasuke," she mused, "what has come over you?"

And the pause that brought attention to the static curling the corners of the pages and danced in the flames of the lanterns hanging from the walls was not really a hesitant one, per se. Somehow, it didn't have that tension that came with someone trying to find their courage to say the words they wished to say. It was — well, it was nothing short of just a pause in conversation, in their back and forth. Just a second or two for them to breathe, to be in one another's presences with no words between them. They soaked it all in in that short moment of time. Hinata relaxed in the atmosphere.

Then —

"Should I tell you?"

Her head turned up, back to him, and found his face much closer than before. The expansive galaxy in his eyes made her feel like she was flying. Her hands grabbed onto the desk, keeping her planted and stable.

This time, when the pause came, it was due to her own reluctance.

What . . . was happening?

Just then — was it simple banter that passed between them, or something more enticing and burning and dangerous?

Startled, Hinata leaned back into her chair, face hot, the tip of her nose numb from the electricity biting at it. The line, she tried to remind herself. The line!

Sasuke slowly pulled away. His revealed brow was arched with perfect satisfaction, and then his gaze dipped, as if to look down at that imagined line he had crossed over with such ease and nonchalance that it was a wonder as to why it was there in the first place. He looked at it with a gratifying flare to his dark irises, as if to say, "I broke it, Moon Witch. It can never be fixed, no matter what you do."

And the pride that just poured from every pore of his body was just as suffocating as the lightning that teased her senses and made her think of nothing but that future he had told her about, where she would be back home in Moon, and everytime she would see the ocean or smell salt in the air, she'd think of him on that choppy surface, next to her, helping her home.

He stepped back to the center of the room and breathed out his satisfaction.

"Gotcha."

She had no idea what to make of that, but in the moment, she absolutely felt like he had totally and perfectly captured her.

"H-Huh?"

All he managed, for a while, was a dismissive hum as he turned to the door, squeezing the handle tight — so tight and for such a long time that Hinata had no doubt that hours later, when she was off to go sleep three hours at the bottom of the ocean, the heat of his hand would still be there on the handle, a constant reminder of this thing, this person, that was taking over every aspect of her being.

"Nothing in particular," he said over his shoulder, words purposeful and meant to be heard with every inch of focus she had. "Just doing a bit of magic, I suppose."

...

"Now if a tall, dark, handsome Guard just mosied on over and worked his magic, so to speak, then I'm inclined to think they'll be willing to spill a few more of the juicy details."

...

Oh, Gods.

The door clicked shut, but his sheer enjoyment of her embarrassment stayed as she pressed her warm face against her hands and curled into herself.

---

The next day, the busy soul of Kabuto found a particular spot in her office's floor that made his presence unable to be ignored or unseen. No matter how she held her book or lowered her gaze, there was always a corner of his being in the edges of her vision, and after a while of feeble attempts at focusing, Hinata turned away and looked at him.

He said nothing. He was not even looking at her. His eyelashes touched the tops of his cheeks as he removed his specks from his face and pulled a bit of his tucked in shirt out from its tight squeeze between his belt and torso. He took the cotton hem of the shirt and worked his thumbs into it and began to clean the glass of his specks, his face placid and without a bit of tension save from the slight shadow of a wrinkle between his brows. His head was turned so that his left ear was positioned a bit towards the door, and Hinata wondered who he could possibly be listening for.

The silence was making her fingers cold, and she wrapped her hands atop her book and said, "May I —"

He raised a hand, and her mouth shut automatically, like the gesture had somehow added weight to her palate and made her teeth bite together. Not once did those eyes open as he continued to clean as the minute passed by, the small clock on her desk ticking with her pulse. His eyelashes fluttered and pulled away from his eyes as he held the glass up in the air, inspecting it in the dim light, spying for smudges.

He hummed — and it wasn't a satisfied one, at that. But nor was it disappointed, just a sort of noise to stir the air, and then he placed the specks back upon the bridge of his nose and fixed the hair behind his ears before, finally, looking at her across the desk.

"Your first patient will be arriving shortly."

P . . . Patient? She hasn't even heard a muttering about a patient. Hinata stood from her chair and pressed her palms into the inky words on the pages beneath her. "So soon?" She'd only been studying for a little over two weeks now, and had barely gotten in any training. Was it really that wise to send someone in to her when she was, perhaps, not at the right level to help them properly?

But Kabuto still did not allow a line of worry touch his face as he answered, "Relax, Hinata. He's only a test. Think of him as real-world practice. He'll take a few sessions with you and then report back to me with how you worked him through certain matters." Her sigh of relief was immediate, and Kabuto gave her office a short glance. "Depending on your score, we may be able to move to the next step."

"And what will that be?"

"Our Head will explain it to you," he said. "Until then, focus on this. He will be here within the hour. Don't forget what I taught you."

He'd barely taught her anything, but what she did learn was revolutionary, she supposed, and a big step forward on her way to being a licenced therapist. With that and her eyes, surely she wouldn't totally mess things up.

Her head fell in a determined nod, and Kabuto left without another word. The second he stepped out, she fell into her chair, exhausted, despite having barely talked for two minutes. There was a small, melodic chirp that signaled Shino's entrance, and she tried to offer a smile that barely lifted the corner of her fatigued lips.

"Hinata?" His voice lifted in question, and his antenni were straight and alert.

"Shino," she said to him, then lifted her hands up. He came to the desk, leaned forward a tad, just enough for the fingers on the lower set of his hands to brush hers. "Lend me your face, please."

One of his hands touched his jaw, then he pressed all four palms on the desk and leaned into her hold. His skin rumbled, like the flutter of butterfly wings, and his skin was rather cool for such a place like the Guard, where hundreds of people with their body heat and strength made the halls nearly as hot as the deserts in Sand. It was a calming touch. The cool sunk into her fingers and danced against the pulse in her wrists and helped the parched anxiety in her slowly sip at the tranquility washing into her. Her fingers arched under the line of his jaw and pulled him closer, until her head was against his, those thick weeds tugging at her eyelashes.

"Did you hear him?" she asked, moving her head a bit more against his so that she could tip her jaw at an angle where her breath wouldn't wash over him. "He said I'm getting my first patient today. If I'm able to help them, then . . . then I'll be that much closer to being a therapist." The muscles in the back of her throat swelled with a choked swallow that brought a sting to her eyes. The weeds reached for the corners, where tears would start to brim, and she pulled away slightly. "I'm so close. All of this work will go towards something."

Shino hadn't a word to say, only stayed there and listened, his antenni twitching with every new start of a sentence. Then when she paused to coax the painful swallow down her throat, he breathed a steady exhale through his nose and spoke, jaw clenching under her touch as his mouth worked to speak the syllables of her language.

"This is Aburame gesture," he said, pressing his forehead a centimeter further against hers. The stickers poked into her skin, but rather than feeling pain, they sort of tickled her. "Talk in Aburame clan is thin. Gesture speaks greatly to we. To we, this means — " He nudged her head a bit, "thank you."

She smiled and enjoyed the coolness radiating from him. "That's beautiful."

"This," his upper-right hand touched her neck and slid an icy trail down to where her clavicle met her shoulder, "means 'You are welcome'." His hand dropped out of sight. "I know not why you thank me, but . . . you are welcome."

A sudden shiver passed through her gills, and Hinata pulled her hands from his jaw and removed herself from his proximity. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "That came out of the blue. I didn't mean to . . . surprise you . . . ."

It felt — it felt right, though. Like it was a part of her that was missing, and just then, as her forehead had found his, she found it. In the corner of her eye, she saw Neji, wafting, barely noticeable. The look in his transparent gaze made her feel like he was missing that part of him, too, and desperately she wished to help him, to touch him, to feel his warmth pressed against her head and know he's alright, he's safe.

Shino did not back away from his spot over the desk. "This apology is stale on tongue. I do not know it." His mouth formed into a confused frown as his chin dropped to touch the tip his collarbone. "What is this language word? Like . . . smile of the body. The insect chirp with smile. This what I feel. Do not apologize, Hinata."

"Happy," Hinata offered, her own smile growing. "You're happy."

"Yes." He cupped the back of her head and returned his forehead to that spot on her own. "Thank you for happy, Hinata."

And with her own hum in her body, Hinata tucked her hand along his neck, where the insects sang the loudest, and ran it down until she found the peak of his shoulder. His sigh was warm, and her pulse was cool.

...

There was a man at the door. She did not see anything aside from the shadow beneath her office's door, did not hear anything but a light breathing muffled by the polished wood, but she knew he was there and that he was the man who would dictate whether or not all these efforts were for something.

"No." A slight gust of air touched the hair on the back of her neck as her cousin wafted around her and settled to her immediate right. The line of his upper eyelid gave him a sort of serious, flat look that, of course, was all he ever really expressed. But there was something more to it just then. Hinata could not put a finger on it, but when he turned to her, hair sweeping like a silk cape behind him, she was definitely sure there was something there. "The one in control of your future is you, Lady Hinata. This patient is just a reporter of your efforts. You affect the outcome."

The colorless volume of his tone had a sort of trill to it. It was hardly anything but inaudible, but Hinata Hyuuga had eyes that could see the invisible and ears that could hear the unspoken. Her memories of her family, of her, were still kept in Ino's magical cage, waiting for those cool fingers to push them back into her skull; but even if she did not remember him like she once had, she knew him well enough to pick up the subtleties surrounding him. Neji was a man who comforted with an air of indifference, of authority; he spoke like he was telling you a fact, a truth of life, but even so, it was that truth that brought her great comfort, and she knew that was the main reason he brought it up.

And he was right. She was the one who had the power to control her future, not the man behind the door.

Her anxiety faded, melting in the light of the room, and she smiled to show him her appreciation. That straight line of his eyes curved a bit, but he said nothing more.

...

"Ah, I guess this is it, then —"

The man's voice held the same pitch as the creak of the door. High, light, a slight bit strained. But the figure who entered afterwards did not match that voice at all. He was a stout gentleman, a bit older, perhaps a few years younger than the Chief Head Himself. Lines of age were accompanied by peach scars and tears of the skin, but the burn in his mahogany eyes was that of a child.

And when his gaze fell on her, his gaze brightened.

"You're . . . the Moon Witch?"

Ah, so that was how Kabuto had introduced her to him. Keeping that in mind, Hinata made sure to stand in a slow motion so that her hood did not bunch or fall from its spot over her face.

"Yes," she said, revealing just enough of her face for him to see her smile. "I'm very glad to meet you."

He was looking at her — not at her face, her offered smile, her glowing eyes beneath the shadow of her hood — but he was definitely looking at her. To the side, Neji shifted and frowned, and the man cleared his throat and grinned, teeth sharp and glinting.

"Yes," he said, "very glad, indeed."

...

She was not allowed to ask his name.

"Weird, I know," he had told her as he dragged a chair over to sit at the other side of her desk. "That's what I was told. Kabuto told me to tell you — eh, what was it?" He stared at her some more, then eventually pulled his eyes away, lips tilted in thought. "Something about privacy. Something like that. Which I suspected, cuz I doubt someone like you can actually be named such an awful name like that."

She smiled as she listened, but the corners of her lips tightened with worry at that last sentence. "Someone . . . like me?" she asked. Oh dear. Did he already dislike her? It would be difficult to do much work in the time she had if he already began to hate her.

He hummed, then smirked up at her. "You're too pretty for a name like that."

"Thank you." Her face stayed cool as she settled behind her desk. "If it works for you, then please call me Moon. I hope you will come to be comfortable in talking with me and calling for me if you even need help."

His hand scratched at the back of his neck, where a patch of stickers were, and his eyes squinted at her. "Then can you move away from back there?"

Hinata blinked. "Hm?"

Left shoulder rolling to the side, he said, "I'd like it better if you were closer. Freaks me out when people just leer at me from behind a desk. Like they're judgin' me or some shit."

With careful movements to make sure her face stayed hidden, Hinata pulled her chair to be sat in front of her desk, facing him and his chair, and was pleased to find some of the weeds on his neck relaxing their hold on his skin. "You're right," she said, "this is better."

He grinned, eyes still yet to have met hers. "Look at you," he mused, "you're so small."

"Please let me know if there's anything else I can do for you. I hope to make you as comfortable as possible."

An elbow resting on the arm of his chair, the man tilted his jaw into his palm and leered — leered like the very individuals whom he hated — leered like he was a mechanic would to a grandfather clock, working out the parts, trying to understand what did what and how he could manipulate them. He crossed his legs and kicked his lifted foot to a languid rhythm, and somewhere deep within her, Hinata felt the clock in her heart stop.

...

This was . . . strange.

"Strange," Neji repeated in a mocking voice. "Of all the words, you use strange, Lady Hinata?"

Well, she couldn't really describe it any better — or perhaps she could, but those words were too strong and pointed with all the evidence she had at present.

"I think you have plenty of evidence," Neji said, sneering as he floated next to her.

They were returning from the cafeteria, a glass of water in her hand. It was two days into her practice with the patient, and already, the atmosphere felt so hot and tense and off that she had to excuse herself for five minutes to retrieve some water for her quaking gills. Neji had followed her, like a phantom; his shoulder sunk into walls as they turned corners, and he didn't even blink an eye when a passing Guard walked through him. He wasn't even trying to act human anymore. It seemed his mind was set on watching her.

Watching. Watching.

Like the man — he always watched her. When she turned to lift a hand for a book on the third shelf, the caress of his gaze slid down to her shoulder. When she whisked past him at the end of their sessions to open the door for him, his attention was heavy on the middle of her back.

Wasn't it her job to be the observant one?

So why did she feel caged in her own office whenever he was around?

"You know why," Neji said.

And . . . it was true. She just didn't want to admit it. Things would become awfully messy if she admitted it to herself. So she ran to the cafeteria instead, rubbing water into the creases of her gills until the collar of her faint, grey blouse was damp. Pulling her hood closer to her face, wiping her fingers on the material, she steadied her pace so that the water would not spill over the thin lips of the glass and made her way back to her office.

Ah, her chest felt like wire was threaded through her ribs, pulling them close together. What was happening to her?

Nothing.

It was all just paranoia.

"Paranoia," she told herself.

Next to her, Neji's face fell, a worried light shining upon his transparent skin, making him look ill and on the brink of death.

...

Stupidity.

You'd think it would have a solid definition. Noun. The behavior of acting stupidly. Without intellect. No sense of judgement.

Is that what Neji thought of her when a hand came from behind and touched the swell of her hip bone? Would that blank face of his be shining with expectancy? Surely, it was. It was so obvious; even Hinata, with her back turned, balancing on a stool with a man's hand on her hip, could see it.

Stupidity.

Was that it?

Because she did notice it, didn't she? The signs. The glances. The smirks and smiles where teeth winked at her with mischief. She knew what was going on. She knew where his gaze fell when he talked to her. She knew why he stayed five minutes after their sessions to dally in the doorway, feigning a shaken look, as if he were still distrubed about their discussions of Guard work and the pressure and stress of it all. But that was definitely not the case. The weeds did not stray or reappear. It was all an act, but Hinata (stupidly, perhaps) stuck to her comforting side and allowed him to stay another few, short minutes.

They were just minutes.

What could he do in such short a time frame?

So she wasn't oblivious — she saw it all rather clearly. But being oblivious and being stupid were not the same.

Seeing the signs and ignoring the warning bells in your head — that was stupidity.

Thinking everything would disappear if you just didn't acknowledge it — because you were scared, because you hoped it would be anything but that — because, surely, surely, you were just being paranoid — it was all so stupid.

Her nails dug into the knuckles of the hand on her hip as she whirled around, ankles popping. The stool teetered. Her other hand grabbed the edge of the shelf behind her. The man's face was at the same level of her chest, and a hot, scared fluster took over her cheeks when he looked up at her and smirked, as if realizing just that at the same time she did.

"Woah, now," he hummed. "Careful. You looked ready to fall."

The bone in her hand turned into iron as she grabbed his hand and pulled it away from her hip.

"I'm fine," she said, swallowing hard, hoping the shake in her voice was not noticeable.

His gaze slid down to her feet. "Are you?"

He did not move away.

Did he not see it? How uncomfortable he was making her?

Was her answer not clear enough?

Don't assume everyone is a mind-reader, she told herself. That voice in her head took on the tone of someone else, someone who was just barely touching the side of her brain, face blurred like she was looking at it from a tinted window. It was deep and scratched with old wisdom.

Be direct, it had once told her, she thought. State your mind. Do not bow.

So even on her spot on the stool, where she towered a good head over him, Hinata kept her chin high as she spoke to the man. "I cannot be one-hundred percent certain what is going through your mind, despite my best efforts. So let me say this to clear the air." His neck craned a bit, the stickers there moving with his skin. "I am the Moon Witch who was sent here to aid in the efforts to bring support to the Guards here. I am your therapist. I will act nothing if not strictly professional with you, and I expect the same from you."

"Mmm." Not a sliver of ferocity came to his face. In fact, his mahogany eyes drifted away from her face and slimmed with amusement. "If it's the grabbing thing, then I'll make sure to let you fall, next time."

No, she thought, it's so much more than that. But how can she get that across to him? How can she describe what a look is? How can she clearly explain to him that these weren't just normal looks — they were different, more intense, and she felt small and watched whenever he gave her that sort of glance.

Was it worth the effort? Even if she did articulate herself, would he stop?

Would it stop?

Please . . . please . . . .

"I am just . . . setting boundaries. Please understand."

Her gaze tipped down to examine his reaction. The lines around his eyes were soft as he continued to peer down at the shiny tips of her boots, the hemmed cuffs of her faded pants. His gaze slinked up the folds of her cloak, and then, when he finally lifted his head back up to hers, everything changed.

Dark irises, mostly hidden under lidded eyes and thin, twisted eyelashes, glared up at her, and that childish glow in his face faded and greyed. The same hand that had printed his fingerprints into the curve of her hip lashed out and yanked her wrist forward, sending her falling off the stool and into him. The bottom of his spine hit the desk. She gasped and tried to back away, but he grabbed her other hands and stared down at her, towering and terrifying.

"Moon Witch," he hummed. Despite his steady voice, it dipped and turned hoarse at the end. "You think I give a shit about any of that?"

The ice of fear nipped at her nose, at the corners of her mouth. It crawled into her mouth and tried to choke her. Neji stayed near, hissing, a reminder: Don't show fear don't show fear don't show fear —

"Don't touch me."

The man laughed. "Good try, but I have nothing to lose here. You'll need a lot more than just a little barkin'." She pulled and yanked at her wrists, but his hands were big and painful. There was no chance of escape. "But it looks like you have a lot on the line, don't you, little thing? Therapy and all that shit. Helping all those damn bastards. Cute. Fucking adorable. And isn't it just so interesting that I happen to be the kind of guy appointed to be you? Seems too coincidental, don't you think?"

"Let go!" Hinata yelled. Shino was not outside at the moment, she knew, as he was called by Kabuto for something — but surely — surely someone else would —

He twisted her arms back, making it hard for her to struggle against him. "I think you understand what I'm getting at," he mused with a grin. "That fuckwad Kabuto likes staying close to the top. Witches like you who threaten his comfortable position as Head of Therapy — well, let's say that if you mention a word to him about this, I doubt he'll give two shits about it. And you can't honestly think our grand Head cares that much about you. What would he think — not even half a year in, and the newbie he himself called for is already stirring trouble. You might as well say goodbye to that certification now."

He was . . . he was actually —

"So let's make a deal." A small, immature glimmer came to his eyes. "Three days. After that, I'm gone. I'll even give extra praise — whatever shit helps you out. I don't give a fucking damn. And you — all you have to do is sit there and look pretty and keep your fucking mouth shut. You can do that, can't you, Princess?"

Sit and look pretty? What did that entail? She shook her head, not wanting to think about it. Again, the man laughed and leaned in close, whispering.

"And I'd hate to see you drag in more people. As a therapist, it's your job to keep the stress away, isn't it?"

The fire around her wrists left. The pain in her arms subsided. Her knees fell onto something hard and cold. There was a click, and padded feet travelled away, into a world of noise far away.

"Hinata." Neji tried to grab her shoulders, but upon his fingers sinking through them, he gave an irritated hiss. "It's all talk. He's trying to intimidate you." Her eyes stayed on the floor. Stuck. Stuck. She was stuck. "Hinata. Please."

Intimidation. Just words. That's right. She should just go to Kabuto. Just stand and go. Just stand. Just.

And as if hearing her words in her head, the door opened, and the man was back, thudding towards her, reaching out to grab her and pull down into his dark corner, one hand sending fire into her arm while the other dented her hip —

"Hin —"

"No! DON'T!"

But — wait — that voice was different.

And there was chirping. Those feet were barely touching the ground as they slipped across the floor, soundless.

Shino.

"Hinata?"

A strangled gasp tumbled from her lungs as she grabbed onto his coat, shaking. The room was so tight. How could she stand it? How could she live in such a place?

"Shino," she croaked, "please — that man — I —"

"And I'd hate to see you drag in more people. As a therapist, it's your job to keep the stress away, isn't it?"

Words. Just words.

He was trying to scare her, and it was working.

Just stand.

Just go to Kabuto.

Just —

"I . . ."

Just —

"N . . . . N . . . Nevermind."

"Hinata," Neji begged.

But she wouldn't listen. With Shino's help, she was back on her feet.

"It's time for breakfast," she said, mostly to herself — anything to quiet down the voices in her head.

Shino's head was inclined to a worried degree as he followed her with his head. "Hungry?" he asked, skeptical.

Of course she wasn't. But she nodded and smiled and found a little bit of her breath when she was finally able to leave that damn office.

...

Stupidity.

It . . . came with fear.

Fear made you act irrationally. Without thought.

Stupidly.

...

Everyone was at the table when they arrived. As she sat, multiple pairs of eyes fell on her, and she pulled her hood close to her face, until it nearly suffocated her, and prayed they didn't see the terror in her skin.

...

"Shino."

When Hinata had first met him, she was quite sure the blood in his veins was replaced with all sorts of species of insects. A tumbling kind that made his skin swell and ebb with the swarm inside him. But when Hinata looked at the white hand clutching at his unused silverware, there was no movement at all to him. Not even a single, jittering bug.

"Shino," Karin tried again, pulling her napkin away from her lips, as if the thin material was the sole reason he had not heard her. "Come with me. I need you to look at it again."

Hinata barely listened, and her panicked head didn't allow a question to find her mind. All she could do was look at that bare hand, then at the rest of everything. It was a nervous beat she danced to — naked skin, then the piles of stickers on the Guard two tables from them — naked skin, then the bags of black weeds under Karin's eyes. Skin, weeds, skin, weeds; over and over again, forever that cycle.

"Shino."

"Yes." The silverware clattered onto the table as he stood. Karin's face lifted, surprise caressing the soft velvet of her irises as Shino passed to the other side of the table, the cuff of his sleeve touching the back of her hood. "Yes. I look."

His covered gaze stung the back of her skull like wasp needles, but Hinata's gaze swam between clear and tainted like that was all there was in the world.

She didn't hear them leave. She didn't hear the creak. She didn't hear the voice until a hand came out and grabbed her elbow, jolting her, and Sasuke's touch hurt her more than any wasp sting, the thorns of his face just piercing her soul at the mere sight of them. She cried out, and his hold tightened.

"What," he hissed, head turning this way and that, searching for danger. "What's wrong?"

Hinata slipped her arm out and touched the flesh as if it were bruised or battered. A hollowing pain encaptured her chest, and she looked away, wondering — Gods, she wondered why it came about this way, why she couldn't have a day where she felt in control and free of the weight always on her shoulders, the tops of her feet, the entirety of her back.

One day. Just one day.

"Moon Witch." The cords in Sasuke's neck stretched to supply more breath for his coming words, but he stopped and swallowed and laid his fingertips into the inner side of his black cloak. "You —" Start, then stop. The arms of the thorny stickers stretched, trying to grab onto more of his skin. "In the past — the parts that I don't remember — did I ever mention something about how open your face shows your emotions?"

For a split moment, she caught her breath and relaxed into her memory, where a small Sasuke glared up at her, wings arched over his back, stiff with annoyance.

"Hinata," he grumbled, "just tell me already. You're obviously upset."

"I-I'm not." The words left her mouth before she realized it.

"Mom says liars lose their wings!" he chimed, hands on his hips. "Your face is like a dictionary. It flips to the exact words you're feeling." Small fingers touched the side of her nose, then the rough skin between her drawn brows. "Upset. Scared! That's what I see right now."

"I'm . . . I'm not," she gasped.

"Hinata."

Sasuke sighed.

"I can't help you if you're like this."

And though she was ashamed to admit it, the first thing that knocked into her unprepared body was a wave of ferocious anger. Damn him, she thought, yanking at the neck of her cloak hard enough for a small rip to appear and threads to irritate her chin. Damn him for mocking me!

Because that wasn't his job!

That wasn't his job!

It was hers! Her job! Her job! And she couldn't even do it right! Damn him! Damn her!

"Let me just do this," she begged. "Let me just get through it. Gods, please!"

The widening of his eye told her he hadn't expected this reaction at all.

"Please. Please. Please." And those stickers were mocking her, too — but didn't they have the right to? Didn't all those covered faces have the right to leer at her? What was she doing? This was her only chance! Why was she messing it up?! "Just a little more — then I can help you. Then I can help everyone. Just — just a little — and I don't care after that, because it will be done, and I can keep on studying like before."

With every word, Sasuke's face became more tight.

"Moon Witch," he said with lightning on his tongue, "what happened?"

Another stalker! She almost yelled. And he won't leave me alone!

"Tell him." Neji wedged between them, his slitted eyes on the Uchiha. But his hard voice was directed to her. "Stop this shit and —"

No!

She was so close. Just a little more. She could stand a little more, and then he would be gone, and she would be free again — if just for a little while. Gone. And she'd be on her way to being a therapist, and she'd be fine, and she'd be able to help people — help Sasuke —

Just.

Just a little more.

...

It was hard to think straight, to look at things fully, when your head, your eyes, your ears are full of nothing but those words. But that was the only fuel to her fire that kept her going, that pushed her to her office, to blankly stare at the pages as she counted the ticks of the clock, knowing, soon, the man would be there.

It was hard to make accurate judgements. It was hard to notice the little things.

When he came in, she did not see the smirk on his face.

When she kept her front to him in fear of turning her back to him, she didn't notice him trying to take peeks over her shoulder.

And when she pulled her arm just an inch away from her to grab a book and hold it between them like a shield, she did not see the opening she gave him.

But she did see him pounce like a beast, aiming to kill.

...

Stupidity.

If Sasuke was here, would he flip through the pages of her dictionary face and see that word? Was it pressed hard against the crinkled line of her knitted brows, drawn to such a sharp angle as he watched her get shoved, face-first, into the wall? Would he look away as she yanked at books and tried to throw it at the man in a desperate attempt to get him off of her? Or would he stand and marvel at how such a word described her so perfectly?

...

"Calm the fuck down, bitch!"

He pulled her cloak, as if to rip it off of her, but the fabric was too strong. It only choked her, and her vision blurred as he hissed in her ear.

"Damn it all!"

Then he threw it over her head and pulled the back of her blouse up. Yelping, she pushed hard against the wall, trying with all her strength to send him back so he was no longer pinning her against the wall. But he was bigger and stronger, and she had no chance — no chance — no chance —

"Stop moving, you fucking —"

His fingers found her scars, rough and burning under his hand. He pressed into them like he was searching for something.

"Holy shit," he breathed into her ear.

"Hinata!" Now her eyes blurred with scared tears as his hands continued to prod her back, but she still managed to see Neji's red face. "The dagger! Use it!"

Adrenaline poured like lava through her system as her hand slipped down the wall and into the inner pocket of her cloak. She found the thin handle and gripped it hard in her shaking grasp before pulling it out and twisting her arm in a rigid angle to swipe at the man's face. She didn't feel the blade hit any skin, but his surprised curse and the lax of his holds was enough.

Shoving her shoulder into him, she pounced over her desk and threw the chairs by the door behind her to keep him from running straight at her.

"You fucking bitch, I swear I'll —"

A hand grabbed her hood, yanking it off her head and nearly causing her to fall backwards. Again, she choked, but with enough room to turn around, she sunk her blade deep into his hand — then once more into the connected shoulder before reaching for the door.

But before her hand could find it, it was already open.

"Hinata."

She ran right into Kabuto, almost sending both of them into the ground, and he hissed and grabbed her arms to keep them both upright. Behind him, Orochimaru swept in, not a tad of fear or shock in his gaze. The man gave a drafty curse under his breath as he cradled his shoulder. Before he could make a move to escape, Orochiramu already had him by the hair, yanking him towards the door with a sadistic smile on his face.

"Hinata, I apologize," he said over the man's screaming. "Please stay put as I deal with our friend here."

And like that, he was gone. A trail of blood snaked through the doorway, leaving behind a mess of a room. Gasping, Hinata snapped away from Kabuto, collapsing onto her hands and knees to choke on a sob as she tried to catch her breath. Her heart wouldn't stop pounding. It all hurt so much.

"Hinata."

"O-Oh my Gods," she cried, bringing a hand to her mouth, "I-I think he was going to kill me!"

Kabuto slowly sank onto his knees before her, his white coat untouched by the mess of everything.

When she looked up at his face, it wasn't that cold, unaffected expression. It was warm. She didn't know how else to explain it.

"Was it on purpose?" she asked, trembling. "Was that a test?"

His eyes widened a slight bit behind the frames of his specs. "No," he said. "We do not have tests like this." He rested his open palm on his knee, allowing her to get a good look at his weary hands and thin lines. "May I touch your upper body? I want to feel if anything is broken."

"H-He touched my back." Her hand went up to her neck. "And he tried to choke me."

"I won't touch your back," he said. "May I feel your arms and shoulders to make sure they are fine?"

She looked at his coat and remembered he was a doctor — the same, cold doctor that had, with little empathy, stitched up her back, but a doctor, nonetheless. And it was only that reason she slowly nodded, and he was slow and careful in inspecting her shoulders and arms, rubbing and prodding for any bruises or broken bones. Nothing of concern ever came to his face, and when he pulled away, Hinata was sure she was fine.

Physically, at least.

"It . . . it wasn't a test?"

"No," he said again, calmly.

Should she believe him? Would it really be beyond him to put her through such a thing to make sure she was "prepared"? He had been the one to hire the man, after all.

But he . . . sounded and looked genuine. So . . . maybe . . .

"Do you think I'm lying?" he asked.

He found her out. Hinata wrapped her arms around her. "I . . . um . . . ."

"Then let's test this out." He settled on the balls of his feet and positioned himself so that she had a good look at his face. "Tell me, Hinata: am I lying?"

---

His goal was to go to Hinata the moment he returned from his mission.

"DAMN YOU AND THAT TRAMP TO HELL! IF YOU KICK ME OUT, I'LL REVEAL EVERYTHING, YOU FUCKING —"

But then Sasuke heard the ruckus and flew the rest of the way there.

---

Is he . . . lying?

How was she supposed to know that?

Her magic didn't give her that much insight.

But she looked at his mostly clear face, those cold eyes that stared like galaxies without the stars, and didn't find anything that would coax her to believe he was lying to her. Of course, she hardly knew the man. She didn't know how his body ticked when lies dripped from his tongue. But the man crouched down before her now looked exactly as he always did, so she shook her head to the sides.

"You're not lying."

"And what brought you to that conclusion?" he asked, as if it were a test.

Well, knowing him, it probably was.

"Your face," she said eventually. "It's clear."

A soft pad hummed through the room as he shifted onto his heels. "Good." Then he stood, the tail of his coat lifting from the floor and cascading down his back like untouched water. Or wings. Wings that hung at the back, not spread out in flight, but ready to be used. And that was just like Kabuto, wasn't it? Always prepared. "Then I'll inform Our Head of your potential."

For being a therapist? Had she not had the potential before? But how did answering one question hammer the nail into Kabuto's decision?

The tear trails on her face dried and made her cheeks feel itchy, and as she rubbed at the irritated skin, she watched as that still, clear face looked over the mess of her office, at the scattered books, and a frown came to him. She flinched, wondering if he'd blame her for such a mess, but not a pointed word left his mouth as he turned back to her.

"You can have the rest of the day off," he said. "We need you in your best form."

Oh, she couldn't keep to herself any longer. Wobbling onto her feet, like a duck learning to walk as the mother watched with wise amusement, Hinata asked, "Did I pass?"

His right arm pulled out just enough for her to grip his sleeve and steady herself. "What?" he balked, eyes thinning. "You're still worried about that?"

"Please," she whispered, eyes closing, "just tell me."

Her words faded into the carpet, and the air was still. Now seeing that she had herself stood, he pulled his arm away and rounded her small form to pick up the books from the floor, placing them neatly on her desk. For a moment, he nearly looked ready to return them to the shelf, but he stopped himself, sighing and popping his fingers against the spines of the books. For a moment, she wondered why he stopped himself — that was an uncommon thing for him to do, after all.

But then she remembered.

Yes.

This was her office. Her books. The way she situated the books was in her way, and Kabuto would not impose himself on another therapist's organization.

Is . . . is that what he saw her as? A therapist?

"If you're wondering if all the shit put on you was worth it, then I suppose the answer is yes." Usually, a heart flew with relief. But this time, hers fell against her gut and tightened until she was breathless. "But that outcome had nothing to do with that filth. Please remember, Hinata, that even therapists, whose main job is to help others, must put themselves first in times like this."

A frog got stuck in her throat, and before she could attempt to pull it out, the door slammed open.

Static bit at her eyes, painful and hot. It licked at her gills until they shrunk and wrinkled, agitated, but also remembering the feeling, the lightning lining them, the hot power that overtook her whenever —

"Moon Witch —"

Whenever Sasuke was around.

And now her heart was on the floor, shattering, ashamed. Not like this. She didn't want him to see her like this. Those cold, wicked hands were still pressing into her back, tracing her scars, mocking her. If Sasuke saw her like that —

The hands — the scars — the wings — gone — never to come back — she was bound to the ground forever, never to fly again — and who would want to be a part of that? Who from Sky would want to deal with such a thing?

The white landscape of Kabuto's coat whisked past her face as he went to the door, not a glance even spared Sasuke's way. She wanted so desperately to take in that rough fabric between her fingers and keep him there. Somehow, even a harsh man like him needed to stay, to hide her, to hide the things she lost. But he left without a care of her state, and Sasuke advanced into the room.

"Are you —"

"Yes," she breathed out, her words falling like dust onto the floor, heavy enough to not float through the air, yet light enough to scrape against the floorboards as Sasuke stepped closer. The skin on her back sagged. The atmosphere was so heavy. "I-I'm alright."

The sweep of his right arm was quick, but it slowed to a languid hover about her shoulder as he stopped himself. The gloves surrounding his fingers paused, stretching with every flex of his hand.

"Can I check?" he asked.

Again, the ghost of those hands sunk into her back. Her spine snapped straight. "I'm," she whispered, "alright."

His hand stayed hovering, but he still did not touch her. "Did he hurt you?"

From behind, Neji came into view, the mess of his hair still hanging over his face. Raw anger still remained on his face, but he kept his glare on the wall, away from her. "Did he?" he asked.

Hinata shook her head to both of them.

Sasuke gave a quick look towards the door. "Did he . . ."

She knew by the fall of his voice where that question was headed, and her shoulders rolled in disgust, the hair on her neck prickling.

"My back," she told him, leaning in, as for no one else to hear but him and her cousin. "The scars." Her arm arched behind her to feel the dip of her spine beneath her cloak and blouse. "He knew about them. He felt them, like he was making sure they were still there."

Sasuke dropped his hands and hid them behind the curtain of his black cloak. His left boot turned to face the door, as if pulling him to leave, but he did not move. He stayed. He stayed and listened to her breathe and didn't ask her another question, probably very aware of how tense she was. The mess of her room was still noticeable, but he didn't touch anything; rather, he took in every fallen book, every off-place piece of furniture, every sign of a struggle.

He stayed until the door was open and Shino was at her side, antenni stood in alarm, stickers ebbing and flowing with his buzzing concern.

"I am sorry," he croaked, voice pained, and not just from the foreign vocabulary on his tongue. "Hinata, I am sorry."

She shook her head and tried to smile. In the corner of her eye, she saw Sasuke by the door, a passing look on his face, telling her he would come back. His fingerprints stayed into the doorframe long after he left, and as Shino helped her to one of the chairs, she couldn't tear her eyes away from the marks.

...

"He . . . I . . . ."

"Shino," she whispered, "it wasn't your fault."

"I knew," he said with a push in his voice. "With eyes, I knew. With ears, I listen. There was foul within him. I knew it."

He was blaming himself for not being there, and Hinata hoped to stop him before he got too caught in his head. "You were called on by Kabuto," she said, taking the cuff of one of his sleeves. "It was your duty."

"You are my duty," Shino said. "I am your Mantis. Hidden and disguised. This is Aburame 480's duty. This. This."

Her ribs curled and poked into her heart. "It's okay." Her hands left the sleeve and took his vibrating hand, pushing up just enough to rub the back of his wrist. "It's okay, Shino. I'm okay. He didn't hurt me."

His face turned to the disorganized, turned-over room. "He —"

"Shino." Her thumb pressed into his wrist with another pressure to get his attention. "I . . . I don't want to think about it anymore. Can we talk about something else, please, while we wait for Sasuke?"

His antenni drooped like thirsty flowers, but his hand met hers and encased her in warmth and a soft, apologetic humming. "Sasuke." Was there ever a time she heard him say Sasuke's name? She couldn't remember. Her head was so filled at the moment. But it had — it had — something to it. It wasn't just a name on his tongue. There was something else. "Sasuke . . . came."

Sasuke had come. He always did. When she was struggling to fly as a child, he came. When she lost her memories, he came. When her back was sliced up and she was alone in a cell, he came. And today, he came. Every opening door, every approaching footstep — there was always a chance it was him, because no matter where she was, he was there.

And that sinking, afraid feeling vanished like the ends of smoky ribbons when she realized that. When his eyes had been on the toppled chairs and thrown books, when they had been on her, on her face — she had been scared he'd see the holes in her, the bruises on her back, the bumped skin that came from cold hands molding into her scars. But that was . . .

Well, he'd already seen it all with her, hadn't he?

And he hadn't left yet.

"Yes," she said, taking in a deep inhale of soft air, "he came."

...

And he came again.

Water in his hand, he returned to that room looking as he always did, and Hinata was glad for it.

"Drink," he said, and she did, without question.

...

As the indigos and blues swirled against the walls of the Ocean gate, Sasuke asked a final question.

"How long?"

The husky trail of his tone revealed that he didn't seem so keen on asking her more questions about the situation, yet didn't seem keen on the idea of not knowing the answer, either. It must have been hanging over him the entire trip from the Guard to The Hall. He lagged behind her and Shino, so she was unable to see his face the entire walk there; but as he spoke just then, next to her, face painted in the cool, ocean colors, Hinata saw the stress on the weeds covering his face.

How long?

And if she had stickers — if there was a mirror nearby to show her the expression she made just then — she was sure they'd be just as tight as his.

"Four . . ."

"Four days?" he pressed.

Yes. Yes, four days. And for all of those days, she hadn't said a single word to anyone. He didn't need to say anything. She knew. She knew she should have. She knew she should have told Kabuto and Orochimaru — she should have told him. Because he had seen it, and he had pushed for her to tell him, to let him in and help her.

And she should have.

All of this could have been avoided if she just had.

Gods, she was so —

"Moon Witch," he said, "stop with that look on your face." Again, the need for a mirror or something was strong, for she hadn't a clue what kind of face, exactly, she was making. "None of this is your fault. No one is upset with you — they're upset with the bastard who —"

The magical hum of the portal revealed the terseness of his voice, and he stopped and blew out a breath before continuing.

"It's alright," he tried. "No one's upset."

To hide the shine of her eyes, Hinata gave a low bow. "Alright."

"But next time —"

Again, he stopped himself, and the strain in his voice of should he say this or not was apparent. Hinata crossed her hands together and, with a slight gesture of her head, told him to continue.

So, slowly, carefully, he did. "Next time . . . and from now on . . . tell me everything." Her heart hiccuped, and she raised her head. The narrow of his dark eyes was serious, and she didn't dare say a word. "It does not matter if it is insignificant. It could be that you woke up two minutes early and I'll still want to hear it. Do you understand?"

"Yes." Hinata didn't even think about the word. It was already out of her mouth before she knew it.

And that was all Sasuke needed to hear, it seemed, for the tension in the weeds subsided, and his expression matched the coolness of the colors.

"Then try to rest, Moon Witch. I'll wait for you tomorrow."

...

Wait for her . . .

The words stuck to the side of her head as she swam down to her house at the bottom of Ocean 11.

Tomorrow, he would be waiting for her to tell him everything between him seeing her off at the gate and seeing her again in the Guard, and Hinata felt a rush so hot and powerful zap through her body that she had to look and make sure he wasn't swimming next to her.

...

That morning, Shino was on the surface of the ocean.

She was to go straight to Orochimaru's office that day, and while that did send a seed of panic into her stomach, Hinata kept her smile as she and him made their way to the Guard.

And there —

"Moon Witch."

— was Sasuke. By the entrance, two mugs in hand. The familiar smell of the special blend Tsunade would make her when she was feeling down wafted about her head as they approached him, and he warmed his mouth against the lip of his mug as he handed her the other.

She drank it and smiled as the warmth filled her. "Good morning, Sasuke," she said. Guards filed around them, and all three of them slowly made their way to Orochimaru's office.

"Morning," was all he said. The silence that followed was a waiting kind, and Hinata could not help but smile a little brighter.

"I slept well last night, despite everything that happened. My head is more refreshed after I got some time alone, and I . . . I'm feeling a lot better."

And as she went on to tell him about the stew she had made for dinner and how she did some sweeping around Suigetsu's house earlier that morning in case he ever woke up soon, Sasuke listened as he drank his tea, the weeds on the underside of his jaw trembling and smoking, awaiting her ready hand to be plucked.

...

"Come in with her, Aburame, and make sure the door is shut well behind you."

They hadn't even knocked on the door, but Orochimaru's call already slipped between the cracks and allured them inside the confines of his grand office. There was a clear note there, floating like a cousin in the air: Shino and the Moon Witch only. If he knew they were there, he also knew Sasuke was there also, and he would have no invitation inside. That left Hinata a slight bit puzzled — for a moment, at least. But it made more sense as she thought about it.

Of course. Shino was her bodyguard, not Sasuke.

And he didn't seem distraught over it at all, only sliding his gaze over her form as the coaxing words slipped through her fingers as she reached for the handle. His feet were turned to lead him away, but he stayed until they were inside, Shino putting in careful time to shut and securely lock the door as instructed.

Orochimaru was not the only one inside — but, somehow, Hinata had already expected that. In the only other chair that was drawn to the side of the metal desk was Kabuto, his white coat hanging off the back, signaling he had been there for quite a while.

To wait? To wait for her? Now she feared she had taken too long to come that morning.

But not a hint of disdain was on either of the men's faces, and while Orochimaru was still a mystery to her, Kabuto never was the kind to hide his hatred of things — especially in regards to her. So she let the worry slip off her shoulders as she and Shino made their way further into the room. As there were no other chairs for them, they stood on the opposite side of the desk to Kabuto, creating something of a half circle.

The Chief Head had been standing, as well, flipping through papers encased in a manilla folder. The bamboo blinds were blocking most of the early, golden sunlight from entering the dim room, but lines of light stretched across his broad back as flowing hair, subjecting him to an almost holy gleam.

If Suigetsu had heard her thought process just then, surely he'd think she'd lost her mind.

"You look well," he hummed, eyes just barely lifting from what he was reading.

If it was a test, Hinata did not want to fail it, so she nodded and said, "I am. Thank you."

A rumbling hum, then Orochimaru nodded to Kabuto, who kept his legs crossed and his hands hanging off the arms of the chair. "My Head of Therapy has informed me of your potential when it comes to the art of picking out lies," he explained in a simple drawl, "which works perfectly for just the mission I wished to send you on."

This . . . was not at all what Hinata was expecting when coming here. Perhaps it would be talk of her therapy license, or even the happenings with the man yesterday; but not this. Certainly not this.

"A mission?" she inquired, attempting to keep her voice washed of anything but a tip of question.

It was Kabuto's turn to speak, but his relaxed posture remained. "Most therapists do not take missions like the Guards do," he said, "but it would be good for you to get more insight into the atmosphere many of them deal with. An enriching experience, Our Great Head has explained. But this is not the main purpose of you going." His head turned just as Orochimaru slipped the folder onto his desk. "Yesterday, when I asked you if you could tell if I was lying or not, it was to test a theory of mine. From what I understand, your ability allows you to see the stresses and worries that plague people. There is usually an unconscious reaction within the body when one lies, and that could perhaps play into these 'stickers' you see. Though, of course, good liars would not have nearly as violent a reaction; but I doubt those damn Inuzuka are good at anything, let alone lying."

Inuzuka?

Inuzuka . . . ?

Didn't that sound familiar. It had a sort of weight on her tongue when she thought about it.

"We have a suspicion in regards to cases surrounding you, Miss Moon Witch," Orochimaru said, laying a slender hand near the folder, drawing her attention once again to it. "From what the records have told me, you remember a Tamaki from about a year ago, yes?" The woman who tried to drag her into Forest? The same one whom Sasuke had sunk his lightning blade into? Yes, she remembered her quite well. "Upon further inspection of her corpse, we've found direct correlation to her and the Inuzuka clan, a gang set in Forest 6. That isn't all, of course — your bodyguard here has identified a tracker beetle found in Sand 1 when you were placed there, which happens to live in the forests in Forest 6 where the Inuzuka clan are settled. And Kisame's body — well, to make a long story short, many things surrounding you are pointing us in the direction of the Inuzuka, and we are not the kind to let a lead slip."

Tracker beetle? Kisame's corpse? None of this connected with her head. Looking at Shino, it was quite clear it was all true; not that she ever suspected the Guard to be lying to her about such crucial matters.

But did this mean . . . that they thought her stalker was in Forest 3? Were they possibly a part of the Inuzuka clan?

And . . . they were sending her in.

"What . . . will you have me do?" she asked, hoping her growing fear was not apparent.

Orochimaru pushed the folder closer to her. "Read this and be prepared for leaving tomorrow," he said. "Sasuke and Shino are already up to date on the mission, so your only concern is to assist them with your abilities. All these connections are not by chance. Their goal is to figure out what, exactly, the Inuzuka are hiding, and you are there to aid them in finding the best pathway to do so."

Still, Hinata was confused, but she supposed reading the reports in the folder would be helpful in catching her up. Taking it from the desk and pressing it into her torso, Hinata gave a bow to her head.

"I'll help in any way I can."

Orochimaru paused, then puffed, eyes crinkled a tad. "How dull. You sound like you're about to collapse."

"There's nothing to fear, Hinata," Kabuto murmured from the side. "They will keep you safe, and the Inuzuka only occasionally attempt to assassinate the Guards that come into their territory."

"A-A-Assassinate?"

"Sometimes," Kabuto said with a frown.

Her face went white, and Orochimaru huffed.

"Watch your tongue, Kabuto."

...

"Hinata."

On their way to her office, manilla folder stuck under her arm, her anxiety must have been apparent, for Shino kept to her side with his face lowered to see her.

"Not worry," he said. "Inuzuka and Aburame clan are connected. One as important as other, like yin and yang. I not allow claw or fang to you. You are . . . safe."

"Yes, yes," she said, mostly to herself. "But is it true, what Kabuto said? Will they attack us?"

"Only if come we without invitation. But Aburame family meet often with Inuzuka. I know — what is word?" His jaw twinged, pensive, as he thought. "Like queen to swarm, but that is to Aburame, not Inuzuka. What is word in your language?"

Understanding what he was getting at, Hinata offered, "Leader?"

That seemed to be it, for Shino nodded. "Leader. I know leader. Leader invites, and there no threat of attack." He dipped his face down to her. "Does this comfort Hinata?"

She smiled and brushed his shoulder in a gesture of thanks. "Yes. I feel much better, Shino."

And it was true. His words made the heavy bags on her shoulders liften and the halls brighter. Though worry still swung back and forth in her mind, it no longer took over her thoughts and made her a puppet of her own anxieties.

Her office was around the corner, and her world got brighter and warmer and —

"Ah."

And then she understood.

It wasn't because of Shino. Not at all.

Because at the door to her office was the Sun King, the sunshine surrounding his being contrasting wildly with the massive garden of weeds covering half of his face.

"Hinata . . . do you have the time?"

...

". . . Within the next week, you will. And when you do, go see him. It's important."

Sasuke's warning rang in her head — was it a warning? Somehow, at the moment, that was all she could think of it as.

A warning.

Because whatever Naruto had come to tell her was enough to affect Sasuke in a manner where he couldn't even hide it. Something she suspected had to do with her.

Something that — when she looked at her cousin — transparent, wafting, barely there — he nearly morphed into something real, something human, something tangible and solid and there — if — if just to melt into that sick, terrified sunlight that filled the hallway.

"Naruto . . ."

His whisper, so like that of Sasuke's "Come on, Moon Witch. Stop doing this to me." that it scared her more than anything else.

Yes, Sasuke's words two weeks ago had been a warning, she was quite sure of now. Because not only did the Sun King look ready to keel over, but so did her own cousin.

...

"Yes . . . I have time."

---

"Please, Hinata. Sit down."

Why was her sunshine man whispering so sadly?

It was a question that overwhelmed every aspect of her senses in the few, short seconds between them in the hallway and them in her office. Alone. Almost. Shino stayed outside, but Neji was there, between them, pacing. It reminded her of herself in her own fits of panic. Why was he acting like that?

And why was Naruto's face nearly as covered in stickers as Sasuke's?

These were the questions that she didn't even want the answers to, because to get them, she'd have to know what dire news Naruto brought with him.

"You . . . You know."

Her cousin spoke to Naruto in a way so unlike him, in a way he never spoke to her; in a way that could only be spoken to ears that were deaf to his words. He spoke like a man with great, terrible pride who was painfully smashing it between his fingers until there was nothing but blood and scars.

"You saw them." He wasn't even breathing. It was like he was dead and talking.

But Naruto did not look at him. "I have to — I — I have to tell you something, Hinata." And he did not look at her, either. "Please sit."

Not a bone in her had the will to deny him such a desperate plead, so Hinata turned to take her seat in her chair —

"Don't."

But Neji's whisper stopped her. Was he talking to her, or Naruto?

He was stuck between them, a wall that kept her on this side and Naruto on that side. Like he was protecting her — or hiding her; hiding her from something.

"Naruto, don't!"

Nothing shook with the yell. Not the walls, the books; definitely not Naruto. But still, Neji yelled.

"Don't tell her, Naruto! It will ruin everything!"

Blue eyes stayed on the chair in a last effort to persuade her to sit, but she was stuck in the ice of her cousin's invisible words. She would not move, and his gaze fell, defeated.

"I . . . don't know how to start."

"Shut up!" Neji barked.

"I'm so sorry, Hinata."

"SHUT UP!" Neji fell to his knees like his life depended on it, head bowed, wiry hair falling like a pall over his wooden shoulders. His bleeding pride pooled around him, staining the floor. "Damn you! Listen to me! Stop talking!"

"Your —"

"N-Naruto." She stopped him before anything else left his mouth, his name evaporating in the hot air.

There was no way she could let him continue.

Neji looked like a man who had lost everything. Silver blood dripped from the lip caught in his teeth and met the ocean of blood beneath him, and he gurgled and barked. "I'm sorry." Like a peasant to a king, he reached out to Naruto's leg, fingers trying to grab his robe, to yank him into his bleeding world; but his fingers, like that of a phantom, could not reach his existing form, and Neji gritted his teeth and glared down at himself. "I'm sorry."

It felt like . . . . It sounded like that one was directed at her. He was at the king's feet, but he was apologizing to her. Hinata looked away, hardly breathing.

"Naruto, it's okay," she whispered. "Don't tell me."

His blue eyes were hollow, isolated in a vast landscape of black weeds. "Hina —"

"I'll be okay. No matter what, I'll be okay. So . . . please, calm down." The hands at his cloak stopped shaking, and Neji went deathly quiet. "Come here."

He did, and she hugged him, wrapping as much of herself around him, trying to hide him from the universe like Neji tried to hide her from his words. Naruto's breathing stabled against her neck as Neji watched from the side, still on his knees, not daring to come any closer.

...

"I should tell you," Naruto whispered into the collar of her cloak. "I need to."

Hinata looked down at Neji, who cupped his hands into the bloody ocean and pressed it into his chest, as if to try and return some of his pride back inside of him.

"Listen to me, Naruto," she said. "It's okay."

...

Ten minutes later, the room cooled down, and Naruto was by the door, hand on the handle, though no strength was put into pushing it down.

"It's not good," he said. "But . . . you already know that, huh?"

Her head tipped. "Yes."

"And you'll find out eventually. It's . . . something that can't be hidden forever."

"Yes, I know."

"So . . ." Naruto stumbled and choked. "So when it comes out . . . don't hate me for not telling you now."

Her right hand cupped his face, feeling the unyielding hold of the stickers, and then slipped down to help him push open the door. "I'll never hate you, Naruto."

...

When he left, Shino was the first to enter.

After him, Sasuke.

Of course.

"Moon Witch, I —"

He stopped himself upon her calm, composed expression — probably not at all what he was expecting to see. She only got a brief look at his face, at the sick white of his complexion, before she turned and dipped to Neji's level. Her knees sunk into his blood, and even though she knew deep down it was all not real, she still had the mind that if it did stain her clothes, she wouldn't care one bit.

"He didn't tell me," she told Sasuke. "I told him not to."

Sasuke went absolutely still. "You . . . did?"

She nodded, then turned her full attention onto her cousin. His transparent face was just right there, closer than an arm's length away; she couldn't remember ever being this close to him. His skin looked thin — all of him did, in fact. She could see the blue veins under his eyes, and the pink of his lips was faded and bland. His hair was flat and dull, and his eyes were sunken in, sick, tired. Did he always look like this? Was she always just a bit too far away to notice all this before?

"Neji," she whispered. "Are you alright?"

Nothing. He wouldn't look away from the hole he had glared into his lap.

"He wasn't trying to upset you," she said, "but Naruto can't hear you. He didn't know. Please, do not be angry." But he didn't seem angry at Naruto. Actually, he seemed infuriated with himself, and Hinata reached out and touched his intangible face. "I stopped him from telling me. It's alright."

Still, not a word. There was a slight shift to the side, and Sasuke was on his knees next to her, looking in the general direction of Neji, though gaze not focusing on his person.

"Your cousin is here?" he asked.

Because she knew Sasuke already had some knowledge on her being able to see Neji, she felt no awkwardness in talking to him about it. "Yes," she said. "Whatever Naruto was here to tell me, Neji seemed to know about it and tried to stop it."

"Stop it?" Sasuke repeated it. "How much does he know about it?"

Neji made no inclination to answer, so Hinata shook her head. "I don't know, but . . . I think I have an idea. It's . . . about my family, right?"

Sasuke paused as Neji's head snapped up.

"How?" he hissed. "How!?"

"You told me not to remember them. I can only assume that if I did, I would remember something tragic." Her head went back to that day, to that gloomy cell. "You said I could remember Father and Mother, but . . . not anyone else. Who is that? Is that you? Do you not want me to remember you? Or is there someone else?"

And if it was him . . . would that mean he was dead? Would she remember his death if she asked Ino to give her back her memories of him?

And while Neji's mouth stayed shut, Sasuke opened in a soft, murmured word.

". . . Hanabi."

Neji glared at him, but Hinata already latched on.

"Who is Hanabi?"

"Your younger sister," Sasuke said.

"Quiet!" Neji snapped. "Stop talking."

"So it's Hanabi you do not want me to remember," Hinata concluded. If she was being honest, it hurt terribly that Neji was hiding this from her — an entire sister who must have been so important to her. But if she had to believe one thing, it was that Neji was simply trying to protect her from the cruel and wicked things of life. "I won't push to remember her for now, but . . . I will have to eventually, yes?"

All aggression left Neji's face as he finally looked at her. " . . . Yes."

"And when I do, will you be there?"

His hollow eyes dimmed. " . . . Yes."

"Neji." Her fingers touched the air of his cheek, the breeze of his hair, as if that would bring him any comfort. "We are cousins. You are my family. No matter what, we can depend on one another. So . . . don't disappear like last time. Please. I need you here."

"You don't need me." His hand ghosted hers, and for a second, she could have sworn she felt his touch. "But . . . I will be here. I promise."

...

She couldn't read. The moment her eyes fell upon a word, the ink and shape would blur, and she would think of silver blood and cold sunshine in her very office. She'd think of toppled chairs and missing wings and the Inuzuka who she would have the pleasure of meeting tomorrow, and it was all so scary and exciting and mortifying that by the time she would have her focus back, two minutes would have passed, and she'd have to find her spot in the reports again.

"You said a line to me, once, in the bar." Sasuke Uchiha, across from her, must have had the pleasure of watching this cycle for the past seven minutes. She blinked away from her reading, already giving up on it, and listened to him. "About a year ago. It was one of those stereotypical therapist lines that I didn't have any intentions of listening to at the time, but even now, I guess it's stuck to me. You remember what it was?"

Well, most of the talking between them back then was from her end, so she couldn't really think of one thing in particular. "No. What was it?"

"That you could only help me if I let you."

Yes. Now she remembered it, and she was also aware why Sasuke chose now to bring such a thing up. Her tongue settled against the backs of her teeth, not a word coming upon it, and his brows rose a tad.

"Just something to think about," he said. "There are things even perfect little angels like you need help with."

"I-I'm not perfect, Sasuke," she gasped.

"Sure." He settled back. "Then stop acting like you can deal with everything on your own."

Was it bad to smile at such a time? Either way, one happened upon her face.

"Maybe you should be a therapist, Sasuke."

"And maybe you should read the rest of that report before tomorrow comes."

...

"When I . . . o-or . . ." Her optimism sunk deep into her stomach. "If I ever get back to Moon —"

"When you get back," Sasuke corrected. "You were right the first time."

"Wh-When I get back to Moon . . . will there be anything I'm returning to?" Her gaze settled onto Neji, who was leaning against the bookshelf, eyes foggy and head in a different place. "Or will it all be gone?"

The light, tinging tap of his finger on the scabbard of his katana gave some life to the dour air as he sat and thought. "I don't know," he said, after a while. "But if you ever decide to come back from Moon, there will definitely be something to return to."

"Ohhh!" If they were in the past and Sasuke was still young and reading dictionaries, he would definitely be laughing and pointing at her face right now. "I know what that word means!"

And if Suigetsu were awake and there, he'd be grinning that sharkish grin and peering down at Sasuke's face. "L-O-V-E. Gods, gag me, already."

---

Chapter 24 - End