This is a revamped version of the story A New Dream, originally written by Wonzy98. She and I (Sessakag) will be co-writing this second version together, yay! This is our first project together but we do plan on writing other works as well, so be on the look out in the future! If you've read the original, this story will follow its framework but there will be significant differences that we hope you all enjoy. That's all for now, thank you and we hope you enjoy.
Chapter One
Late Again
"Stood up again," she muttered roughly, unclasping the buckles of her black stilettos and fighting the tightness in her throat, "will he ever stop taking me for granted?"
Flinging the torture contraption in the direction of the foyer she wondered why she let Hanabi convince her to make such a painful fashion purchase.
Was she just a glutton for pain? A secret masochist that enjoyed discomfort?
No, the reason was less sensational.
She was lonely and desperate to grab her husband's attention. If that meant dressing more proactively, then it was an easy solution, but deep down she knew that Naruto's absence had less to do with his libido and more to do with a pathological inclination.
He was addicted to working.
Hard work and perfection were the only constants in his life, with his sense of self-worth directly tied to them. As much as he craved familial bonds, his lack of social upbringing rendered him ignorant of the ways to nurture these acquired bonds outside the professional realm of work and training. She knew being with an orphan who turned into the village pariah would come with an unsaid number of challenges, but Naruto's warmth and optimistic nature had lulled her into a false sense of security, unwittingly convinced her that any obstacle could be demolished and happiness was just a hop, skip and jump away. Well maybe the latter sentiment wasn't that far fetched as happiness was now just a drink away.
She grabbed a bottle of her artificial happiness as she passed through the kitchen, grabbed a shot glass and retreated to the living room. Placing the glass and sake on the table, she sat heavily then filled up the first drink of the night.
"Cheers, to another year of wedded bliss!" Hinata mockingly announced to the empty room as she quickly downed a cup of sake.
It burned on the way down, but filled her tummy with a warmth her heart envied. She filled her shot glass two more times, threw them back as quick as she could stand, then she sighed contently as the alcohol slowly brought numbness to her tumultuous emotions.
Feeling calmer, Hinata melted into the couch, dropping her head with a soft thud to the back rest.
Droopy lilac, shimmering with emotion, traced the subtle patterns of the ceiling.
Not for the first time, she wondered how her happily ever after had turned into such a sad cautionary tale.
Life with Naruto wasn't always like this for the ex-heiress. Their courtship and first few years of marriage fulfilled her deepest teenage desires. Naruto adorned her with his affection, love and most importantly his presence. But as expected, their relationship began slowly but steadily changing when he neared the succession of the Hokage title. As responsibilities increased, his attention and presence at home dwindled. Initially, she happily accepted this change as it meant he was closer to achieving his life-long dream and wasn't she priming herself throughout childhood to be a pillar of unrelenting strength that supported him on this journey?
After years of waiting, endless days pining in the shadows, after finally catching his attention, letting it slip through her fingers was a fate she couldn't even bring herself to contemplate.
So, she made it her mission to be the best wife, lover and companion she could be without asking for anything in return. Which initially was as easy as breathing, given her timid and subservient nature. But as time passed and the novelty of being with her hero waned, her emotional and physical needs started sprouting. No longer was she happy with seeing her husband only a few nights each month, she wanted more. She wanted to be a priority in his life rather than an afterthought often pushed aside for professional responsibilities. The problem was that she didn't know how to address her growing dissatisfaction with their marriage. Since confrontation was not her forte as her upbringing amongst the Hyuuga had taught her, Hinata fell back on the familiar coping method of burying her uncomfortable, and to her mind, selfish emotions. Committing herself to play the selfless role of the perfect, doting housewife.
Which essentially was homemaker martyrdom.
Now alone in her home with dinner set for celebrating yet another anniversary all by herself, she was unable to hold it in any longer. Pent-up tears of loneliness and frustration seeped down her pale face, smearing the makeup that Hanabi labored over.
She indulged her pain for a while, crying her heart out in her empty house that had no business being so today of all days, feeling safe to unravel far away from prying eyes.
By the time the tears dried, her head felt floaty and foggy.
She felt good.
Better than she had all night.
She struggled from the groove of the couch and reached for the bottle. She poured another round and took two unsteady sips.
Nursing her fourth cup of liquor and she glanced at the clock.
It was after 10 pm.
Her husband was more than two hours late.
Caustic mirth left her lips, a laugh that sounded bubbly and light but carried the weight of heartache.
He repeatedly vowed his presence tonight, he swore this time would be different. Claiming it would be his way of making up for the multitude of wedding anniversaries he forgot, that this time she wouldn't be celebrating their special day alone.
"I should have known better." She whispered to herself, finishing off the clear liquid in her glass and reaching out to place it back on the table.
Grossly misjudging how far from the table her hand actually was, the empty sake cup slammed down on the bamboo coffee table hard enough to draw a wince.
Gazing glassily at her misstep, she muttered quietly, "I hope that doesn't leave a scratch…" her lips frowned, reality slipping through her drunken fog, "but why should I care? No one ever visits anyways."
She sounded terribly bitter even to her own ears.
Inebriation has a tendency to skew one's moral compass. Regardless of her upbringing and kind nature, Hinata was not impervious to the effects of liquor, in fact, she was slightly more receptive to its push towards recklessness. This small and temporary hindrance of morality led her to activate her Byakugan for personal use – an act highly frowned upon by members of the Hyuga clan.
"Byakugan!" Protruding veins rose along her temples while the near 360 degrees vision traveled from the Uzumaki home to the city center. Against all odds she hoped to find her husband wrapping things up at the office.
Her brow furrowed in disappointment when she located him at a drinking establishment with several dignitaries from Kumogakure. Several drinks and bottles littered the VIP table and it was enough information for her to conclude that he wasn't coming home anytime soon.
Realizing that tonight would be another solo night, she settled in front of the TV with a fifth shot of sake. She barely paid attention to the news report, instead her mind conjured undesirable and impossible scenarios. She wondered if she would be in the same predicament if Neji had survived, but then chastised herself for wanting someone else to rescue her. On multiple occasions she had proven that she could take care of herself and her comrades on the battlefield, yet she was unable to do so when it came to the men in her life.
As she contemplated and ruminated, she slowly drifted off to sleep.
A few hours later she was brought back into consciousness by knocking on her front door. At first it was barely audible, and she brushed it off as an element of a dream spilling into reality, but as the knocking grew louder and more pronounced, she realized someone was in fact at her door. Turning bleary eyes to the wall, she searched for the time.
The clock told her it was 1:11 am.
"Is that a good or bad omen?" she wondered quietly.
This train of thought is interrupted by one loud bang followed by unnerving silence. Fear paralyzes her for a second. She is alone in an isolated pocket of land she now calls home. She rarely had visitors, and their appearance are never unplanned, but she currently lives in an age of peace and is capable of fending off simple burglars – though no one would be stupid enough to invade the Hokage's residence.
Logic quickly replaced fear, and a more rational explanation took root in her weary mind.
"I'm coming, Naruto-kun! Did you forget your keys at the office again?" she asked, then sighed, "guess he forgot more than just our anniversary."
Kicking aside her discarded stilettos to clear the entry way, she opened the door and was about to step aside but froze when she didn't recognize the tall, dark figure at her doorstep.
Even with the alcohol slowing her reflexes, she quickly attempted to shut the wooden door, but a heavy foot stopped it from slamming closed.
"Please remove your foot from my doorway." She half affirmed, half begged the stranger.
Assuming he is homeless by his tattered black poncho, scruffy unkempt beard and the torn scarf shielding his eyes, she again pleaded with him to distance himself and added that she would fetch him a meal or a small donation that may alleviate his plight. The stranger didn't respond. He stared at her from the shadows of the cloth; in the dim lighting the single dark eye she could make out appeared hollow and soulless.
His broad shoulders and wide chest moved rhythmically, and for the first time she noticed that his breathing was labored.
Tension hung heavy in the air.
Every battle honed instinct she had rose to the forefront as he moved toward her, Hinata willed her tipsy body into a semi-defensive stance, anticipating a violent onslaught. He collapsed faster than her impared reflexes could track, his body knocking into her like a ton of bricks, forcefully driving them both down onto the wooden floors of the foyer. The fall was hard and sudden, and luckily for the stranger she took the full brunt of the impact.
She moaned in pain and tried to push him off. His unmoving body pinned her to the floor, naught but dead weight on top of her. Suspecting the homeless man was unconscious, she gave him several hard shakes.
Nothing.
With no help coming from her hapless burden, Hinata wiggled out of the precarious position alone.
Dazed and confused, she sat next to the stranger trying to calm her breathing. Clearly something was wrong with him, but why did he choose to come to her home? It was a ways away from both the main gate and city center of the village. Near impossible to accidentally stumble onto her doorstep. His presence was most likely deliberate and planned.
Her first instinct was to contact her husband and inform him of the strange man that had tumbled into their home, but her mind wasn't murky enough to forget her earlier call had gone straight to voicemail, or the image of that VIP section where he spent his anniversary drinking the night away. Naruto was too busy for his wife, she was better off contacting the authorities to deal with the intruder.
Decision made, she moved to follow through only to catch sight of a growing pool of blood beneath him.
Acting purely on instinct, she turned the stranger onto his back, then pulled him in a seated position with his back resting against her shins. Panting, she raised herself into a deep squat, and hooked her hands under his arms to place him in a tilted-standing position. Supporting his head against her chest, she dragged him up and onto the sofa.
He was still unresponsive as she pushed aside his poncho and pulled up his shirt. His well-defined, muscular torso further voids the initial assumption that he is a homeless civilian.
She gasped softly, surprised to see the severity of the wound, a newly acquired gash ran along the left side of his stomach. It was deep and gushing, without doubt, she knew it was a battle wound. This man was either a shinobi or some sort of profession that placed him in dangerous situations. Without a second thought, Hinata was up and across the room, hurrying to the upstairs bathroom to grab first aid tools.
She returned with fresh bath towels, gauze, a home-made saline solution, sterilized tweezers and a needle, as well as nylon dental floss. She prayed that the skills acquired during her short duration as a medical nin would help save this man's life. She didn't know if he was friend or foe, but she was determined to help. Once he is stabilized, she would worry about determining his identity and notifying the authorities.
After applying pressure, the bleeding eventually stopped. She proceeded to clean the wound site with the saline solution she created. Using the pair of tweezers, she removed debris and what looked like remnants of a broken sword lodged in the wound. With the site free of obstructions, Hinata assessed the wound, quickly determining stitches were required as the laceration was deep enough to expose subcutaneous tissue. Performing a simple suturing technique, she closed the gaping wound using nylon dental floss.
Anxiously she examined her work. Sighing in relief, she surmised the care she provided should be enough until he receives professional medical aid. In an attempt to check the stranger's body temperature, she removed the scarf covering the top portion of his face. His face is caked in dirt and grime, his shaggy beard covering much of the lower half. She slipped a hand to his forehead. Thankfully he didn't seem feverish, which hopefully meant that the wound wasn't infected.
She uses a damp towel to clean dirt and dried blood smeared on the stranger's elegant and distinguished visage. He looked familiar but with his face all furry, if she did know him, she couldn't place a name to his face.
Mulling over the puzzle of this man, she reached for the phone on the table and called her husband anyway. Just as suspected, the call goes directly to voicemail. She hung up with a soft sigh and wondered if Sakura was still at the hospital; she would be better equipped to deal with the medical needs of this unknown man. Before she could press the green phone icon to reach Sakura, a hand slapped the device away. A rough, coarse voice wheezed out from the stranger's throat.
"Don't call Sakura, get Naruto."
Recognition clicked instantly.
"Sasuke-san?" Hinata incredulously exclaimed.
A mis-matched pair of red and purple eyes stared back at her, solidifying the man's identity. The ex-avenger of the Uchiha clan was currently fighting for his life on her sofa. His childhood, somewhat feminine beauty had faded but the regal features of the Uchiha were still very pronounced. How did she not notice him before, had it truly been that long since she last saw him? Or was she drunker than she realized?
"What happened to you?"
No answer would be given that night as the stoic shinobi once again slipped out of consciousness. Against better judgment, she obeyed his demand of not involving Sakura. She was tempted to physically seek out Naruto but was too afraid of leaving Sasuke unattended in the event that his condition worsened and required her urgent care. He seemed stable right now, his wound on the mend, but she knew from experience, anything could happen with an injury like that.
After, grabbing a spare futon, she laid down on the floor next to the sofa, hoping to get a few hours of rest before a much-needed meeting with her husband.