Disclaimer: These characters, and the world they live in belong to Masashi Kishimoto, author of the manga "Naruto"
Sleepless Nights in Konoha: Hayate
He lay awake on the bed staring at the cracking white paint on the ceiling. He lay there for some time listening to the breathing of the girl beside him. She looked so calm, so cozy. She rarely stayed for the night, usually she would go home after he fell asleep but tonight she decided to stay. Probably could sense that something was wrong.
He wasn't afraid of the dark. Never. Not even when he was a little kid. He spent far too many sleepless nights, coughing up blood in the dark when his parents were sound asleep. Yet this night was different. He felt tense and the shadows that loomed through the window made him nervous.
Silently he drew back the covers and, as softly as he could, stepped from the bed. The girl mumbled something in her sleep and turned over. He stood, hardly daring to breathe, hoping he hadn't woken her up. Finally, convinced that she was still asleep, he walked out of the room. He walked like a shadow, softly, almost inaudibly, praying to whatever gods were out there that he wouldn't cough, not now. As he tiptoed out of the room he threw one last glance at the girl.
As he stepped outside the fresh air hit him, like a punch in the chest. He drew in a couple of deep breaths of the fresh, crisp nigh air. For a few fleeting seconds he felt so alive, so bliss but soon the feeling was drowned by a wave of dull coughing. He sat on the step of the front door and looked into the night sky, above him hung the crescent moon. He sighed.
He didn't know how long he sat there, savoring the night breeze, staring at that crescent moon, which for some reason symbolized to him his struggle against his fate. He didn't really think about anything in particular, but staring thoughtfully into that sky as if waiting for answers which were never to come. It was chilly and he wasn't wearing anything more than the tracksuit trousers he usually wore to sleep. He coughed into his fist. As he drew his hand away he saw dark specks tinted silver in the moon light. Blood. He sighed and hunched his shoulders. It was cold.
Suddenly he felt a warmer, as someone put a blanket around his shoulders. He didn't need to look up to know who it was. He hadn't heard her coming. Maybe it was because he was so deep in thought. Maybe it was because she was an ANBU. Maybe it was both. It didn't matter really, what mattered was that she was here, she had seen him like this, weak.
She sat down beside him, another cloak wrapped around her own shoulders. He didn't know what to say. He waited. She smiled softly. He stared at his feet. Firmly. He was surprised when she put her hand on his, and that she didn't say anything. She was still smiling softly as she raised her head and stared at the sky. He felt better and glanced at her thankfully. They remained silent. She moved closer to him and for the rest of the night they lingered like that, together, on his doorstep. It was warmer that way.