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Midnight, in C Minor
Chapter Three: Madrugada
(n.) the moment at dawn when the night greets the day
"I'll return with the rain," Sasuke tells her.
It is already a lie.
Hinata stretches her hand out to catch the falling raindrops from the edge of her porch. Naruto will tell her nothing, but she can hardly blame her Hokage. There is no sharing of mission details, and while the shinobi in her quietly respects that, the lover in her still reaches for Sasuke at night, nails digging into the mat when only emptiness greets her.
Her father tells her to be patient. Her sister tells her to be indignant.
Most mornings, her mirror tells her to be kind to herself. She is slowly learning how. Even still.
It has rained twenty seven times since his promise.
She doesn't pass on missions anymore. Her flak jacket fits just the same, her palms are still just as callused, her kunais have not been lead to rust (this she could never abide). In the distraction of duty, she loses some of her tender rage (though not enough).
She still sets the table for two, watching the untouched bowl of rice slowly cool before the empty seat in front of her.
Her father stops telling her to be patient. Her sister stops telling her to be indignant. Instead, they cast their pitying gazes on her in silence as the months pass. No one has the heart to tell her that it wasn't a lie he left her with, only…a promise he didn't get the chance to keep.
"He will come with the rain," she tells herself, eyes to the sky, lips a thin line, and they shake their heads as they turn from her.
In the end, it is a lie.
Because he comes to her with the sun – bloody and bandaged – in the moment the dawn breaks over the earth, his shadow stretching long and unreachable behind him. Her eyes flit briefly to his missing arm, to the hard lines around his mouth and eyes, to the limp in his gait when he makes his way to her just outside the Hyuuga compound.
"Liar," she expels on a tremulous breath, the bag dropping from her hands, the tears already lining her cheeks, when he slides a hand into her hair and brings her face to his.
It's his sob against her lips that jars her into movement, her hands reaching for his shoulders as her knees give way.
It has rained twenty seven times since his promise, and it will rain a million more.
Still, he returns. As dawn always does.