Connected

He had never felt stunned to silence before. The loud mouth knucklehead ninja, shouting over the rooftops and mountaintops of the Leaf village. Always abrasive, the first to say something overconfident and rowdy. Not always in the best of vocabularies either. There was nothing to be embarrassed about, he had already started at the lowest of lows. They could never bring him any lower than he had already began. In his eternally optimistic mind, the only way to go from there was up.

He had genuinely never felt shy before. Each time, faced with somebody who should be treated with utmost respect and manners, he was the first one to break the ice by acting like an unfiltered brat. Calling them extremely familiar somewhat insulting nicknames, he was never likely to feel awkward about the things that came out of his mouth. Words were words were words. But he felt for them, connected with them, spoke with his fist for them. Without fail, his unfiltered, open expression of emotions would always win them over.

He had never been one to show that he could brought to his knees as well. It was his way of the ninja, after all. Always, always fighting. Never to give up. In spite of the pain, through a world of constant failure and rejection, he stood up despite the quivering knees and the blood dripping from his temple preventing him to see. None of those things mattered in the face of being one step closer, no matter how slowly he inched towards his goal of acknowledgment. That was why he absolutely refused to let anyone see how low he could feel, how much he actually believed all those words they shouted at him in the deepest darkest part of his heart: dead last, loser, failure. Monster. There was always a need to put on a brave face everyday because it was his way of life and it was the one thing he felt never failed him. It had gotten him this far. There was a fear in him but he couldn't let that get him down.

He always felt the need to ask for attention. No one turned to him by their own accord. At one point of his lonely desperate existence, it didn't matter what it took to get them to turn and just look at him. Even if the stares that faced him were one of dread, of hate, of anger. Eventually he realized that there was something so much more worthwhile to keep fighting for, a much better way for them to look at him. Yet, all the time, he would still be trying to call attention to himself.

He always felt the fear of loneliness. At the back of his mind. Always.

In those pale eyes - so white and milky and reflective and determined, he saw his image in those eyes. All the things he had never felt or done before, all at once, fell and shattered around him.

There was a first time for everything.

Hinata did things to him he never quite understood and couldn't describe. Even though he was always filled with words, not always of the eloquent type, but filled to the brim with words regardless.

When he held her hand, he felt connection. And he knew nothing was ever truly lost.


never letting go of that hand…