— Pluck —
Part I
Chapter 1: Thor and the Moon Witch
Tucked away in a corner of the universe, surrounded by the hallways of different realms, Hinata Hyuuga plucked at people's faces.
"P-Please tell me where it hurts."
This face was a recurring one. Most of them were; she was very good at her job, and people have often told her that her voice was something they'd come back to, even if her services were not necessarily needed. But this one — he came nearly every week for the past five months. He had to. The things grew on his face like weeds, and no matter how much she plucked, they always managed to come back when he'd visit her corner a few days later. Often, she'd find lines of the things on his cheeks, and today was no exception. When he showed up, half of his face hidden under the normal cover of his hooded cloak, she'd caught sight of it all immediately, and her shoulders bowed as her fingers popped, preparing.
"Mmh?" He had a husky, boyish voice that had made her heart skitter along the edge of her ribcage upon hearing it for the first time. Something was familiar about it, but she was too focused on brushing her fingers along his tan skin to really focus much on that feeling. His right cheek leaned a bit into her touch, and his lips formed into a smile. In times like this, she wondered what his eyes looked like and if they shined as brightly as the rest of him. But people who wandered about this corner of the universe were often the secretive type, and she didn't dare break the trust between the both of them. "You know you never hurt me."
Her thumb and index finger tugged lightly at a sticker. It was stuck to his skin, and Hinata pursed her lips in concentration. "That's not what I meant."
That bright smile simmered, then sunk. "Oh. Right."
The wooden chair he sat upon creaked as he shifted, and Hinata dropped her hands to the thin table between them, fingers curling patiently along the smooth surface. The five months he's been coming to her gave her great insight into the kind of sharer he was — and though it definitely wasn't the hardest to work with, it still required much patience. He liked to take his time, often changing subjects and dancing around certain topics until he felt comfortable discussing them. She figured today would be any normal day for him, so she was slightly surprised upon the words that slipped so cleanly from his lips.
"I'm worried about something." She could have guessed that much — the majority of the people who sought her out had some kind of worry. He must have heard the obviousness in his sentence, for he grinned sheepishly before continuing. "About a guy I know — a friend. He's the kind that keeps to himself — real quiet, y'know? And, well, he's always been that way — but recently, well — I dunno. He's been off. It's hard to explain." A gloved hand rose to rub at the temple beneath the dark blue hood, and he groaned. "And he's giving me a massive headache cuz he's so damn stubborn about his health."
Hinata watched the black stickers on his face move with his cheeks as he spoke. They didn't loosen their hold on his skin, and she had to focus to keep from tapping her finger anxiously on the table. "May I help you with it?"
Another smile. "Please."
Her hands rose once again, skimming the bridge of his nose that led her fingers beneath the hood, where she found his forehead. Her thumbs worked smooth, gentle circles into the temples while her other fingers wrapped around his skull, finding his short, soft hair. She didn't get to feel it much, but when she did, she always enjoyed it. And he, obviously, felt the same way. After a minute of massaging, nothing disturbing the silence aside from distant, clinking glassware and quiet murmuring, Hinata pulled her hands down to his cheeks, grabbed hold of a sticker, and was pleased to find it loose.
"This friend," she said softly, "do you want me to help him?"
His head tipped a bit, and he sighed. "That's the thing — I don't know if he'll even agree to meet you, let alone get help from you. He doesn't like new people. Trusting issues, or some shit."
She hummed a calming beat upon feeling his pulse race beneath the thin skin under her fingertips. "It's hard for me to help those who cannot trust me enough to share their troubles with me." Her index finger tapped lightly on the underside of his cheekbone, and they both shared a knowing smile. "But . . . if you can somehow get him here, I can assure you I will put in all of my effort to help him."
His face bloomed with color as his cheeks pulled back with his grin, and some of the stickers fell off. Relieved, Hinata began working on the ones that stayed on.
"You're amazing, Moon."
She didn't even blink at the nickname. It was common for them all to refer to her as such. It was important she kept her identity as secret as possible, even if her eyes (white and luminous) gave her away as being from one of the Moon districts. Confidentiality was mainly why she was there, in the shadows of the corner between realms, decked in a long, thick shawl that kept her features hidden from view. Her old name — Hinata Hyuuga of Moon 2 — was something she did not hear much, and when she was alone and thinking, she wondered if she'd one day forget it. Instead, that nickname of hers was what people often spoke in regards to her, whether when speaking to her or about her. At first, it had been unsettling to be referred to as such, especially when . . .
Well, it didn't matter now.
"And you worry too much," she said, keeping her tone soft and without humor, intending to show him she was being serious (in a gentle way, of course). "You always come to me about someone — a friend, an enemy, an ally. But rarely is it for yourself." She removed the last of the stickers and smiled at her work. "Please, um, remember that it's okay to give yourself some love every once and awhile. Sometimes . . . you should divulge in selfishness, if only for your own sake."
His chest rumbled, and he laughed, catching the attention of a few passing folks. Hinata blushed and bowed her head, and they both stood from their chairs. "I guess you're right," he said, grinning as he wrapped the belt around his cloak tighter, hiding more of himself from peering eyes. "But I ain't usually in the position to do that — well, unless I'm with you, of course!"
Her blush grew, and she was glad to have most of her face hidden. "Then feel free to come to me more," she said, folding her hands in front of her. "You know where to find me."
Another laugh. When he was at home, free of his hood, did he laugh like that often? Did the people around him realize how amazing such a laugh was — so amazing that it could sometimes remove the stickers from his face without her even lifting a pinky? Hinata supposed they didn't, but she still wondered.
"Well, since you don't mind, I'll stop by tomorrow. Same time — but with, um — " His grin went back to that slanted sheepishness. "You really don't mind helpin' him out? I don't think you realize — the guy is a lot of work. Mean as hell, stubborn as hell; you'll be alright with that?"
There he went again, worrying for others.
But still . . . it felt nice to know he cared. About her.
Clearing her thoughts, Hinata gave a small nod. "I promised you I'd try my best." Tipping her head back, face lifting towards the dim, hanging lights above, she allowed him to catch a glance at her determined smile. "So I will do just that."
The lights flickered (and brightened?), and he reached to give her left shoulder a firm grasp. "Thank you," he whispered, tone low. He sounded so much like a man. Hinata didn't hear this tone often, but every time she did, it was as if the world had gotten brighter. "Seriously, Moon. For everything."
The muscles in her knees trembled, and Hinata nodded and patted that hand on her shoulder. "See you tomorrow," she whispered as he turned and left.
And though she was not supposed to — it was against her morals to stick her nose into the secrecies of her clients — she couldn't help but trail slowly behind him, past tables and chairs, until she saw him within the main part of the Hall, the stained glass of the large, dome roof casting a rainbow of color on his otherwise dull, blue-clad form, making it look like he were light itself. She lingered along the edge of the dimly lit corner she had kept herself, watching him as he went to one of the three, large doorways that made up most of the Hall. She knew it well. It led to the Sky Realm. And when he placed his hand on a stone dial by the doorway, she saw he had chosen Sun 1, and she saw something light and fluttery beneath the swishing back of his cloak before a massive, sparkling portal appeared before him, and he stepped in.
Light sung, and then the gate closed, and Hinata pressed a hand to her chest as the murmur returned to its relaxed hum.
Of course, she thought, peeking back up at the dome, he'd be from that place.
...
"Spying again, Moon?"
Not many people could say that name with such jest — and even if some could, it wouldn't have the same background knowledge that Tsunade Senju had with every syllable she mused. It always made Hinata feel trapped, caught. It took her a moment to calm the shivering spider on her spine, and with slow care, she turned away from the Hall to trail her gaze along the open room she resided most of her days inside. Her eyes had to adjust back to the warm, dim lighting, and she was a bit startled with how full of people it was. Not to the brim, naturally, since it was only midday; but still a lot of people, and Hinata curled her fingers along the hem of her shawl as she made her way past tables and chairs to get to the bar in the back.
Tsunade Senju was a rugged woman — ruggedly beautiful, many passing men would murmur upon sighting her — but also rugged in the sense that she was more likely to break your fingers off than take any ounce of shit from you. And, somehow, that made her all the more attractive, and Hinata often had to leave before the evening to avoid the crowd that the blonde, alone, could conjure. But it wasn't just her looks and her toughness that brought people to her.
"He's going to notice, eventually, with all that followin' you do."
But also her keen knowledge of everything — and especially of Miss Hinata Hyuuga.
Blushing, Hinata rubbed her fingers anxiously along the polished granite of the bartop. Bits of topaz within the stone winked at her as Tsunade moved, shadow sweeping along the bar. Peeking at the figures a few stools away, hoping they weren't listening in, Hinata stuttered, "I-I wasn't trying — "
"Of course you weren't." Tsunade's red lips curled into a smirk as she worked at cleaning a glass with her rag, arms bare and muscles protruding with every swipe she made. Oak eyes found Hinata's shadowed gaze, signaling with a raised brow that she wouldn't take her fibbing for even a second. "So — when are ya planning to ask him for help?"
Somehow, she knew she would ask that question. They both knew the kind of situation Hinata was in. "I . . . don't think I can."
"Really?" Tsunade asked, genuine confusion lining her tone. They both glanced at the other figures at the bar, saw that they were too caught up in the bottoms of their glasses, and relaxed slightly. Tsunade dropped her rag and put a hand to her hip. "He's obviously from Sky. He can get you back to Moon — no problem."
And were it just that, Hinata wouldn't need convincing. But it was a lot more complicated than that. "Tsunade," she said, leaning a bit over the bar, thigh brushing against the velvet seat of the stool to her right, "you know Sun can't go to Moon."
"Normal Sun can't — but he ain't that." Once again, the lights buzzed and flickered. The normal murmur seemed to die down — or maybe that was just her being paranoid. It wasn't safe to talk this openly about things like this. "He's from Sun 1."
So she had noticed.
Not that made a difference. Sun 1 or Sun 9 — it didn't matter where he was from; he couldn't go to Moon either way. And Hinata couldn't understand why Tsunade thought differently. They've known each other for . . . years, probably. Hinata couldn't pinpoint the exact amount, but she knew Tsunade. She trusted Tsunade. Everyone who worked at this bar — a hotspot for those traveling between realms — she knew and trusted her life with; and in turn, she gave them the knowledge of her people and of the people of the Sky Realm. So for Tsunade to believe something so adamantly — something that simply wasn't true — something that Hinata, herself, has taught was simply not true — it was confusing. Befuddling. Perplexing.
"Tsunade — "
"Don't give me that tone." A fist slammed on the surface, and the bodies a few stools away jumped. "Hinata, how long are you going to stay down here when we both know damn well your family needs you up there."
The sound of her name left her breathless. The mention of her family, however, was what made her feel dizzy. Grasping the side of the bar, Hinata balanced herself, scared she would fall at any moment without support. Blinking, Tsunade quickly grabbed one of the glasses she had just cleaned and filled it with water before sliding it to Hinata, who swallowed it all in one gulp.
"Still not used to it, huh?" Tsunade said with the click of her tongue. "You're gonna dehydrate yourself if you keep forgettin' about it."
Blushing, realizing she hadn't even noticed the dryness in her mouth or the pain on the sides of her neck, Hinata mumbled a thank you, downed the last drops of water, and gently placed the glass down. Tsunade took it, smirking, and Hinata, knowing she had nowhere better to go for a while, sat down on the stool next to her.
"Thank you for always looking out for me," she said, smiling, running her tongue along the back of her teeth. "I know you just want me to get back home — I do, too. But . . . I have to be careful, Tsunade. You know that. And — and though I want his help, I know I can't get it. Sun can't fly in Moon."
Humming, rolling her shoulders, Tsunade turned to pull one of the bottles off of the back shelf. Hinata didn't get a good look at the name, but just the color of it alone as Tsunade poured it in a glass — a nice, deep scarlet hue — told her it was some kind of wine. "I dunno," she said, tone low and wistful, as she sipped at her wine, "that guy seems like a good flier to me."
How does she . . . know that? Hinata wondered, watching her. "Do you, um, know him?"
"I don't," she said, "but Kakashi does." Licking her lips, she smirked again and stared Hinata down. "What — want me to get him to tell you who he is?"
Tempted, though she was, Hinata knew her place. Shaking her head, she asked for another glass of water, and Tsunade served it to her without ever letting go of her wine.
"I thought you weren't supposed to drink while on the job."
"As long as that hardass Jiraiya don't hear about it, I'm in the clear."
Hearing the subtle warning, Hinata laughed and sipped at her water. A body stumbled next to her, brushing shoulders with her, and she quickly tugged down her shawl before he could get a good look at her features. But his gaze never fell on her — instead, it stayed glued to Tsunade's figure.
"Oi — bar lady!" His voice was low and groggy, and his words were slurred. Hinata got a good look at the empty glass he held up, as if presenting a trophy to someone. "Give me the same thing — but more whiskey. And not any of that cheap shit, either."
Huffing, not even blinking at his crude language, Tsunade kept drinking her wine. "Can you afford anything better than the cheap whiskey?"
Sneering, running a hand through his dark blue hair, the guy looked ready to crawl over the bar to grab some himself. "Can't ya see I ain't in the mood for your attitude? Give me the drink, and I'll figure somethin' out."
Knowing Tsunade wasn't about to budge, Hinata quickly glanced at the man's face in search of something. It was rather easy to find the dark mass of stickers under his beady eyes, looking almost like dark bags in the orange lighting of the bar. Obviously, he was drinking to forget something. Her gaze fell to his left hand, found the dent of a ring on his naked finger, and pieced things together.
"Actually," she piped up, cutting Tsunade off from cursing the man off. Her right hand skimmed along the bartop, catching the man's attention, pulling him away from glaring daggers at the woman behind the bar. "Um, I can pay for his drink. I-I don't mind."
Suddenly, his entire focus was on her, and Tsunade snorted and muttered under her breath as she prepared his drink. Hinata slowly faced him, got a clearer look at the mass of stickers, and offered him a kind smile. "I'm sorry you're having a rough time."
His eyes were bleary as he blinked, not totally following her.
"What — did you buy my drink cuz of pity or some shit?"
"Not really."
Tsunade came back to hand him a drink, and he momentarily looked away from her. "Tch." He clicked his tongue before downing half his drink. "Don't expect me to thank ya if you ain't gonna at least be honest with me."
Her gaze trailed the slope of his bent spine, then settled on his sagging shoulders. Turning on the stool to fully face him, she folded her hands in her lap and crossed her legs, making herself look as unintimidating as possible. "Please go home after this to take a good nap," she said, tipping her chin back to let him see her calm smile. "And don't try to drink so much. I understand you are going through a lot, but there are a lot more effective ways to deal with stress than drinking."
His eyes rolled to her. "Are you preachin' to me, now?" His shoulders shook a bit as he laughed bitterly along the rim of his glass. "Okay, sure, I'll bite. Pray tell, lady — what could I possibly be doin' instead of drinkin' my lungs out?"
Not flinching at the sarcasm dripping from his tongue, she lifted her hands and hovered them a good ten inches away from him. "May I touch your face, sir?"
"Sir?" Somehow, he was more stuck on that than her actual question.
Snapping a towel over her shoulder, Tsunade sneered, "Answer the damn question, you drunk."
"I won't hurt you," Hinata continued. "I just want to help. But you have to let me."
The ice in his drink clinked against the glass as he swirled it and pondered. Sighing, he shrugged his shoulders and turned to her fully. "Eat your heart out."
Smiling, she raised her hands and placed them on his cheekbones. His skin was cold, almost scaly, and she had to take a double-glance at his neck to see if he had gills. Humming, she began to pluck the stickers off his face, satisfied with how his eyes drooped slightly under her gentle touch. She was able to get half of them off before she pulled away, asking, "Do you feel a bit better?"
His eyes blinked and widened, and he sat straight. "Yeah, actually," he mused, glancing between her and the drink in his hand, as if trying to decide which, exactly, made him feel better. "How did you do that?"
Giggling, Hinata slipped off her stool and stood. "I'm sure when you get home and sleep, you'll feel even better."
He frowned. "Easier said than done, lady. My ex — " His shoulders jumped, and he grumbled and drank the rest of his drink. "Damn thing makin' me say things I don't even wanna say."
Pulling her coin purse out, Hinata dropped a few silver coins on the bar, which Tsunade scooped up into an antique register. When she turned back to the man, he had something of a look of wonder in his gaze. She was used to it — lots of people looked at her that way when she first plucked at them.
"Do you still live with them, sir?" she asked, wondering if she would have to elaborate for him to fully understand.
But, thankfully, his drunken mind seemed to sharpen, and he rolled his eyes once again. "Not for long, I sure hope. And will you stop callin' me that?" He rubbed the back of his head for a moment, hesitating on something, before shaking his head. "It's Kisame. Just Kisame. I've had enough of my damn last name for a while."
Three stickers fell from his skin, and Hinata offered a grin. "Nice to meet you, Kisame. Please call me Moon."
"Moon?" he repeated, the corner of his lips curling. "What the hell? Because of your eyes?" He gestured to his own. His were also white, but not exactly like hers. They were beady and small, almost like that of an animal's. "I mean, I have no room to speak. Didja know my name means 'demon shark'? Yeah, I'm sure my folks had an absolute thrill with that one." He smirked and shook his glass in the air. "Oi — bar lady — another one for the road, will ya?"
Tsunade scowled. "Get your broke ass outta here before I kick ya out myself."
He laughed, this one sounding a lot more genuine, before he hopped off his stool and swayed a bit. "Hey, lady — er, Moon, was it? Got any good ideas of where I can hunker down after I escape the fuckin' clutches of my ex? Somethin', y'know, on the low. Away from it all."
Hinata smiled, already having an idea. "Where do you live now, Kisame?"
His shoulder rolled to the Hall, in the direction of the Earth gate. "Forest 6. It's hell there. Whatever you do, Moon, never live there."
She nodded and tapped a finger on her chin. "Well, if you want secluded, I would suggest — " She tucked her hand along the side of her shawl, pulling the fabric back to reveal the gills along her neck, "somewhere in Ocean."
He barked in laughter and rubbed the skin where his own set of gills would be. "Damn. Didn't reckon someone with your eyes would be in Ocean." He grinned at her playfully, showing off a set of sharp teeth, and Hinata realized that, perhaps, long ago he had been in Ocean — and, maybe, they were in the same boat. "But hey — I guess we all got reasons to leave, right?"
Over his shoulder, Tsunade snorted, and Hinata had to focus on keeping her smile present.
"I suppose so, Kisame."
...
The Hall was full, and the glass above glowed dimly with a sort of silvery glow, signifying to Hinata that it was time to go home.
Well, not her real home. She doubted she'd ever considered it that dearly. But she slept there, ate there, survived there — so in some aspects, it was a home. Just not to her.
Gathering her things, Hinata waved at Tsunade over the crowd that surrounded the bar. She was too busy with pouring drinks and counting change to notice, but Kakashi Hatake, who had arrived for his shift about an hour ago, managed to raise a hand in farewell to her before he was engulfed, once again, into work.
Walking down the Hall, avoiding every arm and shoulder that threatened to knock into her face, Hinata tucked her chin under the cloth of her shawl. A few glances turned her way, somehow interested in the elegant purpose in her step, and she bowed her gaze and quickened her pace, hoping those momentary gazes did not stray on her for too long. A sigh of relief left her lips the moment she got to the massive doorway that would take her home — the Ocean gate. Her right hand flexed before leaving her side to land on the dial, which glowed upon her touch. The air around her shifted as she twisted it, and above her, a good thirty feet away, a number over the doorway counted up. When it reached the desired number, she pressed in the dial, and magic spilled in from the sides of the marble doorway, swirling in ribbons of indigo and blue. When the portal was stitched together, wind blasted against her face, and the smell of salt was unnoticed by her as she tugged at her shawl before stepping inside.
Color — twisting and turning and swirling and whirling — took up the world. Her body shifted, every molecule buzzing, and then it stopped. And when she stepped out, she was standing upon the surface of the ocean, night sky glittering with stars above her. There was a hiss of magic behind her, then silence, and the portal closed. Hinata was home.
Ocean 11, for the past five months, has been the place she's been returning to.
And the worst thing about it was the ever-present moon hanging in the sky, seemingly just out of reach, that reminded Hinata of just how helpless she had become.
...
"I'm home," she whispered to an empty building, eyes having already adjusted to the darkness of the ocean floor. The coral walls shuddered as she closed the faded, calcite door behind her, and with feet barely brushing the stone floor, she swished to her windows, made sure they were locked and intact, and glanced out at the dark world beyond the glass pane.
Ocean 11 was a district smack dab in the middle, miles away from any sort of beach or coast, and because of that, not many people populated it. Only the desperate ones, she supposed, eyes trailing along the dark silhouette of her neighbor's home, or the ones who prefer being alone . . . .
"Staring is rude, Lady Hinata."
A voice she hadn't heard in a long time — genuinely, of course. But with her loneliness came a creative spark to her imagination, and with the slight tilt of her head, she witnessed Neji Hyuuga in all his stoic glory. His eyes were how they always were — never once backing down from hers, as if in challenge — and his hair swayed in the lull of the ocean current. Bubbles left his mouth with every exhale he breathed because she couldn't imagine him ever in the position to need gills.
He . . . deserved better than that.
Bowing her gaze, she turned away from the window and nodded. "I'm sorry." It was silly — apologizing to her own imagination; but she was desperate for any sort of interaction in the freezing depths of Ocean 11, so she went along with it.
"He'll see you doing that one day," he continued, ignoring the guilt in her gaze, "and it will be your first day all over again."
Memories of that day, five months ago, crashed into her skull — darkness, stinging lungs, a teasing voice, tearing pain along the skin of her neck, webbed fingers curling along her shoulder — and she shuddered and pulled the curtains closed.
"You're right, Neji," she whispered, abandoning the window to leave for her room down the way. "I'll stop."
He didn't follow, but she heard his voice as clear as day no matter where he stood in her house. "No, you won't; and you won't stop lying to yourself, either, Lady Hinata."
The next day started the same way they all did — with her plucking faces in the corner of the Hall's bar. "Please tell me your troubles," she'd whisper to one man. "It's okay to feel that way," she'd say to another. "I understand that feeling," came up often in a conversation she had with a woman. These words left her mouth so easily; it was in her nature, she supposed. Connecting with people, empathizing with people; even before she became that cloaked, moon-eyed figure in the dark corner, she had those strong abilities that just allowed her to see people as, well, just that.
People.
It came as easily as breathing —
"Ah, there she is! Moon!"
Until that day, when she met him.
...
The familiar, hooded face of the man from Sun 1 appeared in her line of vision first, followed by one she didn't recognize.
Couldn't recognize, really.
How could she . . . when his entire face, from his forehead to the tips of his ears to the very edge of his jaw, was covered, completely and effectively, in black stickers.
Oh my, was the first thought she could manage, briefly aware of a bright grin shining her way as the chair opposite of her pulled away from the table. Not once had she seen such a . . . dramatic sight before. People had their worries, she knew. Some of them practically drowned in them. But this — she'd never seen a sight like this. She's seen necks covered, sure; she's seen entire foreheads covered, or a thick mass over the eyes.
But this amount —
"U-Um."
It made her nervous. No one was sitting, and her fingers popped. She stood, color draining from her face. Waves were rolling off the covered figure — the kind that made her stomach twist. Because Hinata could emphasize with people. She could get herself into their shoes and look through their eyes without much effort behind it. It was natural; instinct, really. Almost subconscious.
And upon looking at him, she couldn't stop herself. She placed herself inside him, felt the heavy mass of stickers and anxiety on her face, and immediately became sick. Her heart raced in the worst way possible, not helping at all with her knotted stomach and curled intestines.
How do you deal with it? she wanted to ask, raising a hand, slowly reaching for — for something. For any one of those stickers on his face, hiding away any expression or color from her attentive gaze. How can I even begin to get all of these —
A hand gripped her right arm.
Hard.
She looked down, saw the dark color of his hand, and nearly panicked, thinking there were more of them. But then reality settled on her shoulders as her senses expanded from her frantic mind, and she felt the grip of leather on the skin of her wrist. She gasped, nostrils flaring, and —
"Do not touch me. Ever."
At that moment, smoke and blood were all she could smell.
...
If Neji were there —
"His lack of manners is miserable."
He would have said exactly that. But Hinata didn't have much time to ponder the irony of her figment cousin's words, for much louder and . . . angrier words rang through the room.
"Shit — not even a minute, and you're already makin' an ass outta yourself!"
Somehow, in the midst of it all, she had managed to sit down. Maybe it wasn't that surprising — her legs were trembling, and she felt faint. But the two figures before her still stood, shoulder about as wide as the table, and upon the sudden realization that they could easily break her in two if they so desired, she winced and rubbed at her injured wrist.
A tan face flashed her way, and black stickers sprung upon his twisted lips.
"Oi." Her head snapped up, thinking the pointed tone was directed her way. It didn't sound right with his voice. Throughout their interactions together, she'd grown accustomed to the boyish husk that simply melted into his vocal cords. He was gentle to her; kind and patient as they slowly began to trust each other — enough for her to pluck at his face, at least. But his new tone — it was on the same level as comparing the gentle trickle of a creek to the roaring of a waterfall. And when she found that he was facing the other one — his friend, she supposed — her anxiety did not dwindle an inch. "You can at least apologize, you bastard! I brought ya here to help you, not to let you hurt poor Moon — "
"Ah." And suddenly, that waterfall was outdone by a hurricane, and the gills on her neck flexed. It wasn't so much the deepness of his voice that caught her off guard. Neji had a smooth baritone that left many women in their district absolutely drooling, and she was sure her father sounded the same (He did, right? She couldn't remember). There was something else to it. Something sharp and dangerous. Something in the shadows of his throat, bubbling and oozing. Hinata wondered if the stickers had reached there, as well. "So she's the Moon Witch."
It must have been a million times now that she's heard that name. It came naturally with her abilities. Rumors of the witch with Moon eyes that could see things no one else could — she was so familiar with it. But it still stung, and his tone especially did not lighten the blow.
"Sasuke." A hand rose to rub at the temples beneath a dark blue hood, and then that tan face turned back to her, stickered lips spreading into a nervous grin. "I'm sorry. I told you he was like this. Maybe we should go."
For a moment, his words didn't reach her. Sasuke, she wondered, glancing at the tall figure. Not an inch of his face was revealed to her, and the rest of his body was wrapped in a dark cloak and navy slacks. Nothing about him was recognizable, and yet — Where have I heard that name before?
But then, the rest of his words fell onto her eyes, and she blinked and straightened her back.
"How may I help?" she asked, directly focusing on the friend — Sasuke. "Is there something you wish to talk about?"
An arm swiped his cloak back, revealing the scabbard at his hip. The tsuba was decorated with gold, which had something of an ominous twinkle when revealed in the light of the bar. "Why am I here?" His face did not turn away from her, and because she could not see his eyes, she wondered if he was asking her that question. "Was this really worth my day off?"
And somehow, despite the obvious dip in the atmosphere, a loud cackle sparked from the hooded man's lungs, and he slammed a hand on the darker man's shoulder. "Ain't like you were gonna spend it on anything better!" The pulled out chair was nudged once more in a subtle invitation — for him, of course. But Hinata saw it clear as day, and based off of the irritated slope in Sasuke's shoulders, so did he. "Look, I know how you are. I wouldn't have dragged you here if I didn't think it was important. She's good — really good. I dunno how she does it, but every time I come here, I — "
"What, exactly, does she do?" Sasuke hissed, not budging a millimeter towards that chair. "What can a Moon Witch do for me?"
He made her name sound like a curse, and Hinata gripped her hands together in her lap, away from their gazes. "To answer simply," she said, trying to smile, "I can do whatever you need me to do."
A pause. Then the cape was pulled back in place, totally hiding the scabbard, and Sasuke turned away.
"You owe me two hours of wasted time."
"Huh? Wait — " Panic came to the man's voice, and Hinata took a glance at his face. It was beginning to get covered, and she worried if it would ever stop. "Just five minutes, Sasuke. That's all. I know you stopped going to the sessions at the Guard — but she's different than that. And you need to start talkin' to normal people again, so — so just — dammit, Sasuke — just — " The lights above flared and hissed. "Stop!"
And like that, everything went still. Eavesdroppers a few tables away blatantly stared, and Hinata didn't even have to look at the bar to feel the irritated vibes rolling off of Tsunade. Honestly, she was surprised the woman hadn't marched over and kicked them out already. But the stillest of them all was that dark, faceless man named Sasuke, who looked as if he had been frozen in ice.
"Look — "
"That's an order, Sasuke."
Those long shoulders squared, and there was another hiss. "I'm off duty — "
"An. Order."
Many things were strange at that moment. The flickering lights, the sudden composure in Sasuke's stance, the authority and power behind that once boyish tone. And Hinata was stuck on all of them, really; but she was particularly fastened upon an unusual aspect of the situation.
Why does this seem so . . . familiar?
She hadn't an idea why. She's never met a Sun man before, especially not one from Sun 1. And she didn't know Sasuke aside from the familiarness of his name. She couldn't fathom why any of this seemed so —
"You're doing it again." She shivered as Neji's nonexistent breath slinked over her shoulder. "Staring won't help you remember, Lady Hinata."
Her head tilted his way. Remember wh —
The chair creaked, and something slammed on the table. She yelped and snapped forward. A covered face leered at her, and she didn't have to see his expression to know he was beyond unhappy.
"See? That wasn't too bad!" But the other seemed the total opposite, and now had his normal grin back in place. "Now that that's out of the way — Moon, this is Sasuke. Sasuke Uchiha of Cloud 8." Sasuke Uchiha? Wait . . . Sasuke Uchiha? He couldn't possibly mean — "Ehh, but you probably know him by that other name, eh? The Thor is what they all like to call him."
And that's when it clicked. He was that Sasuke. The one who had a nickname even more famous than her own. She's heard stories of him from every universe — that powerful member of the Guard that every Lord and Lady begged to have as their protector, if even for an hour. His skills were infamous, and as was his . . .
His . . . sword.
Without noticing, her gaze fell to the edge of the table, where that golden scabbard and tsuba hid beyond her line of sight.
Now I understand. Then, her gaze traveled up his folded arms, back to that dark, covered face that, surely, was giving her a look of absolute acrimony at that moment. No wonder he has so much . . . .
"And if you ever call me that, Moon Witch," he bit out, voice never wavering from the sharp tone, "it will be the last thing you ever mutter."
Right.
Her shoulders fell as reality began to come to her.
. . . Right . . . .
...
She's dealt with many of the same sort; the Guard sort, that is. Not as many as one would expect from such a dangerous and . . . scarring job, but still enough to count on both hands. There were many things they had in common.
"Would you like to share with me what's got you feeling this way?"
"No."
They weren't the kind to share. A lot of the Guard worked as assassins and double-agents. They weren't used to discussing their thoughts and feelings aloud. Often, it took Hinata a good week or two to get them comfortable enough to get out something as simple as a complaint.
"I understand. I won't push you into sharing if you are not comfortable with it."
"Not like you could, either way."
They were also stubborn. They had to be. With putting their life on the line on a daily basis, one would have to be stubborn to not quit immediately. This wasn't as difficult for Hinata, however. She was used to the kind.
"Would it be easier to just talk, then?"
"Hn."
The Guard also had a tendency to hire . . . quiet people. The kind who wouldn't blab if they were captured. Hinata didn't like thinking about it much. It made her sick.
"Is . . . that not okay?"
He didn't bother to even acknowledge her question this time, and Hinata knew her grip was slipping. Hell, who was she kidding? It wasn't even there in the first place. The guy hadn't been particularly open since first arriving, but after the man from Sun left to get something from the bar, he had completely shut off. Even if she could see his face, she doubted it would give her much of anything.
Sasuke Uchiha wasn't . . . human.
Maybe that's why they called him Thor. Because he was a God — out of reach and beyond the comprehension of mortals. Even with her eyes, she didn't stand a chance against his aloofness, but . . . .
She had promised to try her hardest, and she wasn't the kind to lie about such things.
And so, her eyes scoured his body language for any hint or clue of anything. His drab hid most of him, and the cross of his arms and straightness of his spine showed her he was definitely on the defense. Hinata knew she did not have an imposing figure — quite the opposite, many people have told her — so it wasn't necessarily her he was protecting himself from.
It was . . . her eyes.
Because I am from Moon? she asked herself, replaying how he said that name — Moon Witch — with such disdain. That could have been a reason; or, perhaps, the power she had with them.
Because if he called her Moon Witch, he must have heard the rumors that came with it, and maybe that's what he's trying to keep himself from.
Either way, he didn't trust her or her eyes, and if she was going to get even a centimeter into that obsidian wall he had encased himself within, she'd have to get rid of as much of her as possible. With a determined nod, she pulled her shawl closer and slowly closed her eyes. It was beyond terrifying to be alone with that man, especially if she could no longer see his every move, but . . . .
"U-Um," she piped shyly, unable to keep the shake out of her tone, "may I ask you . . . about your sword?"
Not a sound came. Either he was ignoring her, or he had left the second her eyes closed. Either one was very plausible.
But then —
"What about it?" He kept that defensive edge in his voice, and it was still deep and dangerous, but Hinata had a feeling that if she just took a small step forward —
"It's a katana, correct?"
The wood of the chair shifted, and she smiled.
And thus started his journey to slowly, cautiously, meet her in the middle.
"How do you know that?"
"My cousin was very fond of them. The tsuka is slimmer than the hilt of any other sword." Her hand brushed along the table's surface to gesture in the vague direction of his left side. "And I know the design of that scabbard well. When he would practice, I was allowed to play with the scabbard. I suppose it was so I would not harm myself, but . . . I enjoyed it, either way."
Another pause, this one longer. Hinata knew to wait.
"Tch." The sound of his tongue clicking against the back of his teeth made him sound so human, and she began to imagine him as such in the dark canvas beneath her eyelids. "Open your eyes, Moon Witch." She did so without hesitation, pleased to find his arms, though still crossed, were slack. "And stop avoiding my gaze."
She hummed, keeping note of the revelation. "I'm sorry," she said, keeping her tone gentle. "I don't do it on purpose. I can't see your face well, Sasuke Uchiha."
His shoulders curled, then rolled, then fell.
"That's probably why you were only allowed to play with the scabbard."
This time, it didn't take much force for her to smile. In the background, she heard Tsunade yelling at someone. Perhaps a customer, or maybe Jiraiya. It was still early afternoon, so the place was rather vacant save from a few people near the front. Crowds passed in Hall, traveling from one universe to the other, completely unaware of the two famous figures pushed along the back corner.
Hinata lolled on the idea of staying on the katana subject, but she knew it would be difficult to keep up without getting personal, and Sasuke was still far away from sharing. Thus, she grasped onto another conversation starter — one that she had been meaning to bring up since the start of their rocky introduction.
"I'd also like to apologize for . . . my sudden reaching earlier." Her hands slipped off the table and went back to her lap. "It wasn't my intention to upset you. Usually, I try to ask before going about it."
He huffed, and his chest moved with his exhale. "Is it your hobby to go around 'nd touch people's faces?"
"That's how I help them, usually." She didn't try to explain, and he didn't bother to ask. "That's why he brought you here, I suppose."
One of his gloved hands curled into his sleeve. "Not at all," Sasuke muttered. "I didn't come for this."
She didn't try to ask him, knowing he would not answer. But she still wondered what he could possibly mean by that. And maybe he saw the look in her eyes and was feeling generous, for his right shoulder lifted and nudged backward, directing her attention to two figures that she hadn't seen before — or rather, hadn't seen there before. Just a few minutes ago, they had been about seven tables away. Now they were four away.
Another click came from Sasuke, along with a buzz from somewhere near him.
"Boring," he murmured, uncrossing his arms so that his right hand could move to his hip.
And before Hinata could utter a single syllable, there was . . . white.
Those figures — two men with strange headbands tied tightly around their skulls — stood, and rushed forward — but then something bright flashed into the air, and they stopped dead in their tracks. Hinata had to blink to adjust her eyes to the sudden brightness, and when her vision came back to her, she saw . . . .
L . . . Lightning?
She had to stand to get a better look, and that's when she became aware of it all.
Sasuke Uchiha stood as well, back turned to her with his right hand held at his side. At his left hip hung an empty scabbard, for at his right, crackling along its golden tsuka, was his katana with a blade of lightning.
Ah, was all Hinata could manage. Now I see why they call him Thor.
...
Her gills shivered at the electricity that was pumped into the room. Powerful waves of heat and voltage rolled through the air. The hair on her covered forearms stood, and even her eyelashes curled in reaction to the pure, crackling blade of lightning just mere feet away from her. Peering over Sasuke's shoulder, Hinata could see the bright faces of the two men. They had sunken looks, and their hands left the inside pockets of their cloaks to raise a few inches above their heads.
The blade hissed at their submission, and his right arm jerked before moving to his left. Somehow, Sasuke sheathing his katana held more reluctance than that of the men's surrender, and Hinata wasn't blind to the reason. He hesitated — not out of fear, because what did the Thor have to fear from common thugs? — but out of the sheer disappointment of not having a struggle of some sort.
With the blade now enclosed, the room was back to its dim glow, and Hinata only managed a brief glance at the men's pale faces before they turned on their heels and ran. Tsunade banged on the bar, cursing them on their way out, and even Jiraiya left his spot behind the counter to check if they had truly left.
But Sasuke only sighed and settled back into the chair, falling once more into that semi-crossed, straight-spined posture that offered no recognition of what had just transpired. He simply grumbled under his breath — "What a fucking drag," she thought she heard him say — and lifted his chin at her. She could almost see the expectation in his hidden eyes, and Hinata quickly sat herself down, still trying to calm herself.
She had to wonder — it was hard not to. Who had they been after, those men? Her? Sasuke? Or perhaps —
"What the hell? You just let them go, bastard?"
The Sun man returned to their table, a new layer of stickers covering the entirety of his jaw. She analyzed his body, hoping he hadn't been injured in any way. There didn't seem to be any rips or tears anywhere, which told her he was nervous about something else entirely.
"They won't come back," Sasuke said, tapping an index finger on the tsuba of his katana. "I figured they'll tell whoever hired them to give up on her."
So it . . . was about her.
Wait. Hinata looked at both of them as her calming mind began to piece things together. So —
Neji leaned over the back of her chair and placed a hand on the table, glowing, white eyes glaring at the tan hand that scratched the skin underneath the blue hood. "So even he noticed," he mused, dark brown hair spilling over his shoulder and falling through her curled arm. "That's just like him."
Her imagination was getting the better of her, but before she could properly wave him off —
"Moon Witch." She was beginning to understand what was so haunting about his voice. Yes, the stoic tone added some eerieness to it, and sure, his reputation as a blood-spiller who wielded a blade of lightning just upped her already existing uncomfortableness. But when he spoke, she couldn't see anything. No twisting lips or flashing teeth or rolling tongue. No flexing jaw or hollow cheeks. There was nothing. He was nothing. "Are they all that pathetic, or am I not wasting my time here?"
But . . . that had to be impossible.
Because if he was nothing, then how did he seem to know about them, about her?
"D-D-Do I — " Her fingers gripped her sleeve, and she blushed at her stutter, "know you, somehow?"
Because it hadn't even been twenty minutes, and he already knew about the people who were hunting her down. Perhaps he knew of it, somehow, from the Guard. Perhaps her family had contacted him. But was that it? Were they really strangers? But — she's never seen him before. Nowhere in her mind came up a Sasuke Uchiha, so how —
"Hinata . . . "
Her . . . name.
That was her name, right . . . ?
But it wasn't Sasuke who said it. It was that boyish, somewhat clumsy voice that she's been listening to for the past five months. The one that spoke timidly of his anxieties, the one that laughed loudly, the one that sought her out at the very beginning, when she hadn't even begun to pluck people's faces.
The one that made her heart race like crazy because, despite them never sharing names, despite them never revealing their faces or speaking too precisely of their past, she knew it. She knew him. She was comfortable and calm and trusting and maybe, maybe a little smitten when it came to that recurring face of his, and for the longest time, she truly believed he had come to her innocently.
But she didn't know him. Not really.
But . . . he knew that name.
Which meant —
"Ts-Ts-Tsunade!" Her right hand sunk into the pocket of her coat, fingers grabbing the handle of her dagger. It was the last thing she had grabbed from her home before she had to flee. Neji had given it to her years ago, when she was sixteen and becoming aware of the dangers in her realm and beyond. With people actively seeking her out — Hinata Hyuuga, that is — she knew she had to protect herself, so she always brought it with her . . . just in case.
But she never dreamed that, one day, she'd have to use it against him.
All this time . . . has he been trying to capture me, too?
There was a distant crash, and she didn't have to look to know that Tsunade was storming over. With them distracted, Hinata was able to slip away and flee to the Hall. She quickly grabbed the dial at the Ocean gate and turned it to District 11. Her head snapped over her shoulder, making sure they weren't chasing her, and once the portal had been made, she jumped inside and dived straight into the freezing waters of her refuge.
They almost got me, she had realized upon entering her coral-walled home, locking the door behind her before quickly swimming to every window. She knew they were locked. She checked every morning before leaving. But her chest was hot and heavy, and frustrated tears prickled her eyes as she tore back her curtains to check every lock she came upon. I'm so stupid.
Without fail, her gaze turned to her neighbors home. It was still and empty. Dark. He hadn't come for a while. Ten days, maybe, since she last saw him. And she knew it was her paranoid mind speaking, but she wondered —
What if he was out there somewhere, being interrogated? Were they torturing him? Did they know he helped her? Did they know he knew her? Did he tell them where she was? Was that why —
She swallowed, snapped the curtains shut, and turned away.
So . . . stupid.
...
Whenever her cover was blown, she knew she had to hide for a while.
But —
"Go."
Pulling her chopsticks away from her sushi, Hinata turned to the figment of her imagination. For some reason, she felt the need to torture herself with imagining her cousin was telling her to leave. She couldn't understand why, really. She knew it was dangerous to go back up there. They were probably still looking for her. And it wasn't like she could go back to that bar anymore —
"Go, Lady Hinata."
So why did . . . ?
"I can't," she told him, chewing on the salmon from her sushi. She watched him swish back and forth by her low dining table, his legs moving through the wood every now and then. His repetitive movement was calming, in some way. Perhaps it was her exhausted mind speaking — she hadn't gotten much sleep the night before — but he was doing a better job at making her want to go to bed rather than back to the surface. "You know I can't, Neji."
He paused and regarded her, eyes void. "This time is different," he said. "Go."
Eating the last of her sushi, Hinata got up and moved to her sink. It wasn't the same kind that she had in Moon — the kind that poured water. The sinks in Ocean blasted a sort of compressed air that did well in cleaning the dishes, though they made a terrible noise in doing so. Her brows furrowed as she turned the knob, and the faucet shook as it released a roaring air that sent bubbles all around her. She blinked, and once the plate was clean, she waved them away before turning to her cousin, who gave her an expectant look.
"I'm sorry," she said, smiling, "but I didn't hear you over — "
"Please."
She didn't hear that much, even in her imagination, so she was more than spooked to hear that gentle tone of his as Neji begged.
"This isn't like last time," he said. "They can help you."
Her shoulders fell. It was like she was trying to tell herself what had happened yesterday was a mere dream. She wasn't about to lie to herself and say it didn't hurt. Sometimes, those afternoons of listening to him babble as she plucked were the only things that got her up in the mornings. With them suddenly gone, she felt . . . empty. Alone.
Betrayed.
"He's trying to capture me," she whispered, pulling her arms around her torso.
"No," Neji said, "he's trying to save you."
How was he so sure — how was she so sure?
She wanted to ask him, but he turned, a trail of bubbles following him as he moved to the front door and placed a nonexistent hand on its knob.
"Hinata," he said, smiling at her over his shoulder. "Go."
...
And so . . . she did.
To say she was surprised to find a sticker-covered face watch her every movement the moment she stepped into the room would be a lie. She had expected for at least one of them to be there.
She had just hoped . . . it was the other one.
The less scary one.
But Hinata made sure to wipe every ounce of disappointment off of her features as she slowly made her way to him. He had situated himself on the same chair at the same table in the same corner, and it almost made her wonder if he had budged an inch since she had left. Her gaze shifted to Tsunade behind the bar, wiping at it casually with her rag, not making an effort to greet the woman who had come in after Hinata.
So she doesn't mind him, Hinata realized, heart skipping. Does that mean . . . he's safe?
Her breath caught in her lungs when she finally made it to her normal table. He didn't look away from her, and Hinata gulped before sitting herself across from him, forcing a shy smile.
"Sasuke Uchiha . . ." She watched his shoulders twitch. He made her too aware of things, and she was beginning to feel like she was searching for something that wasn't even there. "Good morning."
He huffed and sat back, the wood of the chair creaking with him.
"He hired me to watch out for you," he said, tugging at the cuffs of his gloves with an air of nonchalance about him. Of course he wouldn't be nervous. He had the lightning sword. "So don't run away this time."
Not sure how to respond, Hinata said what she always did. "M-May I help you with anything?"
The tugging stopped, and his arms crossed. "Yeah." The table surface shuddered slightly, and with a glance to the side, she noticed that his left knee was bouncing slightly. Is he . . . getting impatient? "I heard you pick at people's faces for a hobby."
Suddenly, all air escaped her, and Hinata was sure she was hearing things.
He wasn't . . .
Was this, perhaps . . . him asking for her service?
She waited for a moment, allowing him time to go back on his word or change the subject. But he didn't. They both sat in silence, nothing but a jittering, thin table between them.
But then Hinata gave him a genuine smile before she raised a hand to catch Tsunade's attention.
"Please tell Jiraiya to make me a cup of coffee," she said, watching Sasuke closely, trying to find any indication of him wanting a cup of his own. He didn't move, and she couldn't help but laugh. "I'm going to need to wake up for this one."
...
"Tell me what you are comfortable with sharing, Sasuke Uchiha."
Minutes later, Hinata was already halfway through her first serving, and she was glad to find her tired mind begin to wake up and sharpen with awareness. Sasuke had still yet to order anything, and she made sure to not mention it.
A low hum bubbled in his throat, and his chin tilted the slightest bit.
"Sharing is dangerous in my line of work, Moon Witch."
She knew, but she nodded to make sure he knew she heard him.
"Then . . . are there certain topics you wish for me to avoid?"
His shoulders squared.
"Everything, probably."
At that, she couldn't help but blink. E . . . Everything?
"Then . . . what do you want me to do?"
"I have to tell you?" he asked, voice clipped. "I thought you knew what you were doing."
And, well, in most cases, she did. But Sasuke Uchiha was most certainly not most cases.
Bringing her mug to her lips, letting the steam warm the tip of her nose, Hinata pondered her possibilities. Clearly, going about it her usual way was not working, and Sasuke did well in avoiding every type of tactic she tried. This was becoming more difficult with every passing second, and she knew she couldn't help him with his troubles when he refused to tell her said troubles in the first place.
It was as if . . .
Wait.
"It's happening again," she said, pulling away from her mug. "You didn't come here for my help, did you, Sasuke Uchiha?" She recalled what he had mentioned yesterday, right before the situation with the men. All this wasn't for him at all. "He ordered you to watch me again." It was for her.
His chest fell as he gave a deep exhale. "I can't refuse, even if I wanted to."
But why?
She knew he was from Sun 1, so surely he had some power. But was it really enough to hog the time of such a sought-after Guard member for two days?
Shaking her head, Hinata took another sip of her coffee before asking, "So you really are trying to protect me."
"Wasn't it obvious?"
She blushed and bowed her gaze. "I'm sorry. I've gotten paranoid over the months."
Sasuke didn't reply. He kept to himself, looking how he did just the day before. Maybe he was focusing more on keeping an eye out for anyone else who would try to stir trouble with them. "How long have they been after you?"
"I don't remember." His face jerked her way, and she swallowed the last of her beverage before setting the mug down. Her brain was awake, but her memory was still as foggy as ever. "For a while, I suppose, though I cannot pinpoint the exact date." Her mind replayed the events of yesterday, and she asked, "U-Um, h-how do you . . . know about any of this?"
All that followed was the distant murmurs and clinking of glassware.
Alone with him and his covered face, Hinata was beginning to really wish he would just drop his stubborn act and let her take the things off. It was hard enough to decipher his meaning behind statements with tone alone, and his body language didn't give her much, either. Things would be so much easier if he'd just —
"So you really don't remember."
It wasn't a huge difference. Not at all. His voice was still low and stoic and giving her barely anything. But there was something there. It wasn't lighter or softer — just . . . airy. And it made goosebumps run down the lengths of her arms.
Hinata felt her eyes narrow in confusion, and she nearly had the mind to ask him what he meant, exactly, by that. But she decided to not waste her breath on an unanswered question and decided, instead, to say, "Ever since I've left Moon 2, my memory has been . . . worse. I don't remember much of anything before leaving."
Her eyes found the image of her cousin a bit away, always listening in and watching. But I won't forget him, she supposed, smiling.
"So you don't know who is after you," Sasuke said with a sigh.
"No." Her smile turned guilty. "I-I'm sorry."
And it was weird, because just an hour ago, she dreaded ever stepping foot in this place ever again. She had been scared, and for the longest time, she had run from something even she, herself, didn't know about — and sometimes, she wondered if it was even there in the first place. But now . . . that fear wasn't as overbearing as before. Somehow, just knowing that her worries were real and she wasn't crazy made her feel better, and even if she wanted to, Hinata couldn't hide the grin that was painted along her rosy face.
Sasuke scoffed, having probably witnessed her sudden change in mood.
"What?"
"I just feel safe," she told him, suddenly quite aware of how different their voices sounded. Not that it mattered. It's been a while since she felt so . . . free, and she wasn't about to let anything stop her short of enjoying it. "I know you've been ordered to stay here, but still — thank you, Sasuke Uchiha. I don't feel so terrified when you're here."
...
First, it was his arms going lax.
Then, his fingers uncurled themselves from the long sleeves of his cloak.
And after that . . . Hinata saw it.
On the right side of his face, a bit above the middle, she saw a few stickers loosen up.
"Hn." He grumbled to himself, totally unaware of the absolute miracle she was witnessing right then. "Whatever you say, Moon Witch."
And she knew to keep to herself, to ignore it and stay in her spot. But her fingers popped and itched with the urge to just pull it off; and it was right there and so ready, so she couldn't just look away and pretend she saw nothing.
Gripping the edge of the table, trying to not rush and ruin her chance, she tore her eyes away from that one spot and took in his entire face. "I — u-um, I know . . . I-I understand you don't want to be touched," she began, voice a bit hoarse. "And it's not that I mean to go against your wishes — rather, I-I try to do the opposite. B-But — Sasuke Uchiha — if you'd just give me this once — and I promise I won't bother you again after this — "
"What." He backed away from her, and his fingers fidgeted. "Did I not make myself clear before, Moon Witch?"
The name sliced into her, and gaining control of her hands, she wrung them together and sat back into her chair. "I-I'm sorry," she whispered.
The familiar sound of him clicking his tongue sounded, and his chin lowered, as if in disapproval. Again came the silence, along with a heavy tension in the air, and Hinata blushed under its weight.
He wasn't saying anything.
Had she really messed up her chances that badly?
Peeking up at him, her previous joy sagged, and she tried to get back any of the millimeters of progress she had made. "I told you before . . . that I couldn't see your face well. Do you remember?" A minute passed, and he didn't even grant her a nod. Flinching, her gaze fell, and she continued. "It's not . . . that I'm blind, per se. Actually, it's, um, the opposite. My eyes . . . let me see things. Things most others don't see."
Sasuke shoulders rolled, and then he asked, dully, "Like what?"
"Well, u-um . . . ." She thought for a moment, then said, "Have you ever been to the Forest realm? They have plants there — burweed, I think it's what they call it. Those plants have these things called stickers — ah, um, and they're sharp and get stuck to things easily." Her gaze overlooked the mass on his face, and she tried to smile. "I see that . . . but, um, they're darker, and they're usually on faces. Y-You . . . have a lot."
His head tilted a bit, and she was able to see a muscle in his neck flex. "Ah," he muttered, "so that's what you do. You get them off."
For the first time, his tone told her something clear. He . . . didn't believe her. Not at all. But she didn't let that get to her as she said, with a subtle emphasis behind her voice, "Only if you let me."
And to her surprise, his arms moved to his side completely, hanging a bit over the back of the chair, and he leaned forward. "Fine." And his voice, once again, was clear and sharp with challenge, as if to see if she'd even take the invitation if he gave it to her. "I'll let you."
And Hinata . . . didn't know if she should feel proud or horrified.
...
Her fingers were slow, and she blamed it on her lack of preparedness. But in the back of her mind, fidgeting, she knew it was because she was scared. She nearly expected him to lash out like a wolf, though she knew it was a silly thought. And yet — no matter her lag or her nervousness, he didn't move or say a word.
Like he was waiting.
And for someone who seemed to hold his time over everything else, she knew she was experiencing another miracle in the works.
Hovering her hand a few inches away, she looked at him, making sure he was totally fine with this. "I won't be able to get them all off," she told him. "Just a few in this area. And it . . . won't hurt. I promise."
His shoulders shook as he huffed, and that was all she needed to continue. Her fingers reached out, grabbed the sharp edge of one of the stickers, and carefully pulled it off, revealing smooth, pale skin underneath. Hinata dropped the sticker, letting it fiz out on the floor, before moving to the next one. Her other hand lightly grazed Sasuke as it gripped the back of his chair, supporting her securely to ensure she didn't fall into him. It took a few minutes to get all the loose ones off, and she was so used to hearing his even breathing so close that when she pulled back, finally done, she was a bit put off by the quiet around her.
"I'm done," she said. "You can open your eyes now."
And the part she had revealed, small as it was, was quite significant for her. His right eye and brow were revealed to her sight, and she watched with unfathomable excitement as his lid fluttered before opening, revealing an inky canvas beneath.
"You lied, by the way," he mused, trailing his gaze slowly along the table's top, up her arm, to the slope of her shoulder. There was a sort of pressure behind his gaze that she hadn't felt before. It was . . . stunning. "Not all of Forest has those weeds."
And then . . . she felt it.
That pressure, that power, that . . . electricity.
It was on her hidden face, boring through the shadows, piercing into her.
"But I suppose Lady Hinata Hyuuga wouldn't know much about weeds, now would she?"
...
And like that, Hinata was totally, absolutely, and incredibly on fire.
Chapter 1 — End