It had been her father's words fifteen years ago:

"The world is always looking. If you are not a coward, look back."

So Hinata looked. She watched. She observed.

For a while, all she saw was life beyond her – people beyond her. They'd live their life in their own world, without her. And, usually, that was okay; she didn't want to be a part of their world, sometimes. It could be easier, at times, to just stay where she was and let life cascade past her.

But Sasuke –

"Ah. Bold today, aren't you, Hyuuga?"

And Sasuke Uchiha both had a habit of dragging her into the whitewater rapids of life without even asking her, leaving her to drown under the waves, vision too blurred to see or observe or look.

For example: that July afternoon, Hinata Hyuuga, out of habit alone, grasped the hand of Sasuke Uchiha and gave it the sort of tender, loving squeeze that a girlfriend would only ever give her boyfriend.

And had her head been over the rushing waters, she would have seen that Sasuke Uchiha was, indeed, not her boyfriend.

Chapter 9

You'd Think Horns and Feathers (or Lack Thereof) Were Obvious Enough

"I'm s-so sorry –"

"It's fine."

"I'm really sorry, Sasuke!"

"I said it's fine, didn't I?"

It was so embarrassing. They hadn't seen each other for two whole months, and the first time she found him on campus, leaving the classroom of his summer class, she had gone and held his hand.

God, what was she thinking? Hinata had been fully prepared to dodge rapid swings of his white cane – she's heard the horror stories of girls almost losing their heads when they dared to flirt or touch him. Thankfully, he seemed to be in a good mood that day, and he only huffed and continued his walk to the front of campus, cane stretched out to scout the concrete bath and feet stepping with full, familiar confidence. The sun was bright above, and he had his shades on to protect his eyes from the harsh sunlight.

"I'm –" Gulping, breath catching in her throat, Hinata croaked, "sorry. I feel bad."

The casual purse of his lips slanted to the ground, and his hold on his cane tightened. "You're annoying me," he said. "Tell me what you want, already."

Blinking, Hinata became aware of the bag caught in her left hand. "O-Oh!" She moved it in front of her, making sure the crinkle of the plastic was loud enough for him to hear. "Well, I got you a few things – you know, for your birthday."

His head tilted her way. "It's not my birthday."

"I know," she said. "It was two days ago – um, Saturday. Sorry. I was busy working last weekend."

"Stop apologizing. How the hell did you even know it was my birthday?"

They turned and went down the main path that led to the front gates. Hinata eyed the flowers in her beds, smiling at their vibrant petals greeting them. "You told me. Remember?"

"No." He frowned, then rubbed at the back of his head. "I … did?"

"It was when you first let me sit with you."

It had to have been five years ago, so she wasn't surprised he didn't remember. But she did. It had been a few days before spring break. Rain was roaring outside the windows, and when she had run into the library, soaked and freezing and without an umbrella, she had tried to hide in the back, away from people's eyes.

But one pair had found her, grey and unseeing, but she had still felt so embarrassed to have been caught.

Somehow, he knew what had happened to her. Maybe he smelled her – she probably stunk like a wet dog. And he had let her sit at his table as he dug an umbrella out of his backpack. At first, she didn't want to take it, fearing he'd be without one, but he pulled out another one and mentioned that his older brother had given him another one a few birthdays ago.

"That's good," she had laughed, shyly taking his extra umbrella. "I have a winter birthday, so I usually get scarves and knitted hats."

"Sunscreen and umbrellas, with the occasional pair of cheap sandals," he had said.

And when she asked when his birthday was, he had told her without asking her the same, and she had left that corner in the library smiling and writing the date down in the back of her skull. The next day, when she came to return him the umbrella, his backpack had been pulled out of the extra chair, and the invitation was clear.

"Ah," Sasuke hummed. "I barely remember." His left hand pulled out of his cargo's pocket and reached her way. "Take me to a bench. I'll open them there."

So she (bashfully) took his hand (making sure to keep it more platonic than the previous, embarrassing hold), and took him to a nearby bench surrounded by angelonia. She handed them the presents one by one, and he ripped into him with little care. He got the new earbuds first, which he had plugged into his phone to try out; then, he pulled out a bottle from a bag and felt it, frowning.

"Don't tell me."

She laughed. "Just in case."

"I must have at least twenty bottles of sunscreen now."

And then she handed him the last gift, and he felt the leather container and opened it, dipping his finger inside.

" … What?"

"Keep going."

Eventually, he pulled it out, running his thumbs along the sleek, maroon rims.

"Glasses?" he guessed.

"Sunglasses," she said, leaning over a bit. "When I saw them, I thought of you. They're kind of … steampunk, I think. And the lenses are big enough to protect your eyes completely."

He pulled off his own, bangs falling over his face, then pushed the new ones on, adjusting them on the bridge of his nose and turning his head this way and that to make sure they fit well. Afterwards, he faced her.

"How do they look?" he asked, pulling them off, an edge to his tone that could have been sarcasm or – maybe – humor. But she didn't hear it.

Hinata smiled. "You look very handsome, Sasuke."

He stopped, glasses halfway off, grey eyes staring, unfocused, in her direction.

And he – oh, God – he looked so much like Sasuke right then. Her Sasuke. It was something in the face – that hidden expression between lines of nonchalance and aloofness. Her heart raced and her skin warmed up, and she almost leaned over and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, buried her face in his feathers, traced the outline of his horns –

But she didn't. She couldn't.

Sasuke tried to bring her under the water, but she pushed up and looked and saw this was not her demon. This was her classmate. Her study partner. Her … friend, maybe.

"It was a joke," he whispered. "Don't say things like that."

Slouching back, Hinata said, "I'm sorry."

But he scoffed and stood, carrying his gifts in one hand and letting his cane lead him away from her with the other.

…

The rest of the day, she looked twice.

When Sasuke crawled in from the kitchen window, handing her a bag of rice he had gotten from the convenient store for her, she had to look twice before taking it and thanking him.

When he came into her room as she was pulling on her sweatpants that evening, she had to look twice, nearly hiding behind her bed upon his entrance.

When she turned on a movie that she could barely focus on, she had to look twice when he sat down before scooting closer.

It was silly. She knew.

Sasuke Uchiha has never come to her home, and she doubted he ever would.

But her demon didn't wear sunglasses or walk with a cane, and she still had mistaken Sasuke Uchiha for Sasuke twice that day.

She was awful. Horrible. The worst.

"Hinata."

She knew she didn't have to look twice when he sat on the foot of her bed, looking at her – Sasuke Uchiha didn't call her Hinata often, and Sasuke said it in such a way that made the room catch on fire. But, still, she looked once – then twice – before relaxing in her bed.

"Yes?"

"Do you fear me?" he asked.

Blinking, she pushed her hands against the mattress and sat up.

"No," she whispered.

"Then did I do something?" His eyes narrowed and darkened. "Humans dance around things without purpose. It only messes things up. Talk directly to me."

Swallowing, Hinata nodded. "I'm sorry – it's just, well, you know I saw Sasuke Uchiha today."

His irises shrinked in instant rage as his lips twisted back and the feathers on his arm stood on their end. "What did he do to you?" Before she knew it, he was standing and ripping back the curtains. "I'll drag him to Hell, where he will spend the rest of eternity in complete damnation and agony –"

"No – wait!" Catching the end of his cloak, she yanked it to catch his attention before he lept out that window. "Nothing – he did nothing. Actually, u-um, it was me that did something." He froze. A demon from Hell – frozen. Unmoving. "When I first saw him – I made a mistake. I held his hand, but only because I thought he was you for a second."

Slowly, Sasuke turned to her. "Keep talking."

"You look so similar," she said, "and for the past two months, it's been you I've seen the most. I'm used to being with you. When I held his hand, I thought I was holding your hand because I'm so used to it." Her eyes sunk down to his gloved hand at his side. "A-And … maybe it isn't as big a deal as I'm making it out to be, but I feel bad. I'm paranoid. I have to keep checking – just in case –"

"Does he come to your home often?" Sasuke drawled.

She bit her lips together. "No. He's never been here."

"Only me."

"Only you," she affirmed.

He moved to the bed and got on top of her, his knees pressing against the sides of her thighs as he loomed over her, not putting his full weight on her lap.

"And he has never done this to you," he said, "has he?"

"Never," she whispered. "Only you."

His gaze slid down the side of her neck, and when she nodded, he leaned forward and pressed his ear against her chest, right over her heart. "And if, by some miracle, he heard what I hear, he'd know this heart did not belong to him."

Her hands pressed his hair against the back of his neck, holding him close. Summer nights were hot, and Sasuke made them hotter, but she didn't mind. "Yes," she said, smiling. "You're right."

"I am always right," he said, not pulling away, still listening. "Do not be paranoid, angelus. I'm the only one here."

"No. Not really."

She gasped and snapped her gaze over Sasuke's shoulder, catching sight of a blinding, morphing, holy figure that made her room as bright as the sun. And with his heat and Sasuke's and the summer heat, it felt like the sun, too.

"Tch." She moved under him, hand moving to his chest, but he did not get off of her. In fact, his hold tightened on her, and he did not even bother to glance back as he muttered, "Go away."

"Wow," Naruto – Sasuke had told her his name when she had woken up from passing out one day – mused, heavenly eyes drifting over them, "what a way to address your Lord and Savior."

"Sasuke," she whispered, "p-please get off."

"No."

"That's a check on your bad deeds list, Hinata," the glowing being at the foot of her bed snickered. "Watch out – any more, and you'll get yourself a one-stop ticket to Hell!"

Her entire body began to tremble as Sasuke, still clinging to her chest like a baby, snorted. "She's going there, one way or another."

But she couldn't match the content in his tone and, instead, began to bawl.

"I-I-I'm so s-sorry!"

"What – oh, geez – wait, I was joking, Hinata! Honest!"

"For fuck's sake," Sasuke snapped, yanking off his gloves and hovering his hands close enough to her face to evaporate the tears on her cheeks, "when will you learn that humans never know when you're joking?"

"Look, you bastard – not my fault I'm so great that everything I say becomes fact! H-Hey, Hinata, you're good. Promise! I – I'll even forget about the time when you stole your sister's Halloween candy when you were ten. Just – stop crying!"

…

From then on out, Hinata always gave the room a once – twice – over before getting changed or taking a shower – just in case a certain God materialized from thin air to give her another heart attack.

Chapter 9 - End