A/N: Again thank you to everyone who reviewed. I appreciate the compliments and the constructive criticisms alike. I did struggle a bit with Tsunade's interaction with Hinata and I somewhat based the affection on a filler episode of Shippuden titled the "The Girls Get Together" (It's really cute, and Tsunade does actually half hug Hinata and tries to apologize for something, so yeah…). As far as Naruto goes, well you'll see….
Warning: NaruSaku ahead people, kind of….
Haruno Sakura was polite and boisterous, colorful and a lady all at the same time. She liked to think of herself as an honest and straightforward person. (And to be sure, if you asked anyone who knew her, they would tell you it was true.) She was also kind. (That's what people at the hospital said, anyway.) And so when Hinata had abruptly left five years prior, and her blond best friend and teammate was left to deal with the aftermath, she decided to help him.
And if she was being honest, it was because she had harbored small yet blooming feelings for him. (Not quite love, but not just friendship anymore.) At that time, even with Sasuke-kun back in the picture and the cliche 'never forget your first love' still taking place, she had decided she needed to be a bit selfish, and so had snapped up the opportunity to care of the broken Uzumaki.
That of course had led to a brief stint of a relationship and physical intimacy, before dissolving into something akin to a "friends with benefits" scenario, with the benefits being few and far between. She had been honest with him regarding her feelings for him and the entire relationship, telling him exactly how she felt. And so Sakura Haruno knew where she stood in that aspect, and felt no guilt to the mutual arrangement.
It was the evening of the mysterious ambassador's return, and she was shocked and shaken like many of the Konoha 13 had been upon finding out who it had been.
"Hinata?" Came a gruff disbelieving voice, barely able to say the name. She knew who it was and felt a pang of sympathy. 'Poor Kiba'
But Sakura was more concerned for the gaping man next to her, his whiskers misconfigured by the opening and closing of his jaw. It would have been somewhat funny had the situation not been what it was.
And her heart broke just a little for her Hokage-to-be friend as she heard the polite and emotionless greeting.
But when she looked back for Naruto, past the receding crowd, he was already gone.
So here she sat in her plush, wine red love seat, a cozy fire simmering in the grate, and a steaming mug of White Chrysanthemum in her grasp.(1) The sweet scent flowed through the air, gracing her tiny living room. The unexpected drizzle of rain beat rhythmically against her green curtained window. She sighed in comfort, relishing the softness of her flannel pajamas, and glad of the freedom that came with owning one's own home. This old peach colored building had lay across town from the hospital, closer to the Hokage monument. It had been one of the few not demolished during Pein's attack, and its old style charm had attracted her instantly.
She settled farther into the couch, simply relaxing and contemplating the night's events when a loud series of knocks interrupted her.
She quickly set the mug down (using her pinkie to cushion the placement), and reluctantly went to open the door.
There stood a drenched Naruto, clad in only a fitted black shirt with the Uzumaki spiral emblazoned, and his regular orange pants, all sticking close and outlining every detail. His hair was matted and his bangs shadowed his face. But what startled her most of all was the wild look in his eye. It was that of a caged animal, frenzied and unseeing.
She immediately side stepped to let him inside, then turned to close the door. Not a few moments after, she was roughly grasped by two strong arms, and her mouthed attacked by rough, chapped lips. Pleasure shot through her, and she participated, although a thought niggled at the back of her mind. 'Something's wrong. This is wrong.'
It was when his hands began to roam, higher and lower, making smooth circles that she recalled her senses and willed herself to higher thoughts. The gentle placement of her hands against his chest was enough of a signal to stop him.
"Why Sakura?" His voice was husky, throaty in its confusion.
She looked up at the towering man. He was beautiful with his longer blonde locks unbound by his usual headband. His stormy blue eyes heated at the passionate moment, but not really seeing her. He was looking past her, at something, or someone else. (Possibly someone with long, trailing indigo tresses and eyes of starlight.)
"You're not okay. Be honest."
"What are you talking about? I'm perfectly fine." He grinned slyly, the smile not quite reaching his eyes.
He lowered his lips towards her, this time stopped by pale fingers at his mouth.
She moved her hand gently to his cheek. Her bright, emerald eyes narrowed, challenging him to repeat his statement. Then she threw back his words from years previous to her, albeit softer, and simply as a reminder of who we was and what he stood for.
"I hate people who lie to themselves."
It was lunch time, and Shikamaru Nara sighed. It was time for the regular (weekly) meet up of Team Asuma at Yakiniku BBQ. (Choji had picked the restaurant.) And it was Shikamaru's turn to treat.
And yet again, it was raining.
His arms lazily held a blue umbrella; not caring of the weather, as he nonchalantly ambled his way to the entrance of the BBQ, knowing of the gossip and rumors that would bombard his ears today.
"Did you hear? The Hyuuga heiress is back."
"Yeah, who would of thought she'd have the guts to do a job like that."
"She's different, something's different."
"Is Naruto okay?"
"I don't know he was pretty beat up after she left."
And so on and so forth. And Shikamaru knew that because he was friends and teammates with one of the largest gossips in Konoha that his usually peaceful lunch was not going to be so. His steps slowed as he reached the wooden building now housing the new BBQ. His desire for warmth was at odds with his reluctance to hear gossip. The aroma of the sweet and spicy selections of meats began its onslaught. 'Man, my clothes are going to smell for days.'
He quickly spotted Chouji already seated in a booth near the entrance. His large arm waved over his best friend, eager to start the meal.
"Where's Ino?" Shikamaru inquired, curious as to why she was later than he was. (That was something really rare.) He quickly collapsed his umbrella, stowing it under the table.
"She had to run a few errands for the flower shop, something about wedding bouquets for a local princess."
Shikamaru quirked an eyebrow, marveling at the fact that a princess would choose such a small flower shop for what would probably be an extravagant occasion.
"She's been running around all day. It's kinda funny, each time she comes back with different flowers on her."
Shikamaru slid into the booth next to his large friend, and called for the first round of sweet pork to be served. He would deal with Ino's wrath later, or so he thought, when she suddenly burst into the establishment, clad in her usual violet ninja outfit, sporting several goblet shaped violet Cobaea (2) flowers hanging from one arm, and another holding a periwinkle and aquamarine speckled umbrella. She quickly handed it off to Chouji to fold.
"Sorry I'm late, that woman is driving us all nuts with her talk and her nitpicks."
Chouji laughed heartily at the sight of the disheveled Ino, her usually immaculate blonde hair flying all over, and escaping her high ponytail. Shikamaru quirked an eyebrow at the unusual flowers, wondering at their placement in a wedding.
Ino looked down at their amused glances and gasped.
"Damn her and her lack of beauty sense."
She vehemently divested herself of the few flowers, discarding them in the waste bin, huffing at their hidden meaning. 'Of all the…'
With their chuckles fading, Team Asuma settled into their usual lunch routine, consisting of Chouji making neutral and sage remarks in between large bites of cooked beef, Shikamaru's noncommittal grunts, and Ino's rapid fire gossip and talk.
Shikamaru had begun to space out, when the subject of Hinata' s arrival was brought up.
"I mean I know she's a good ambassador and everything, but come on, several hundred people. And its Hinata-chan…you know?"
"Maybe she really is just that good at her job." Chouji answered in her favor.
"Or just has a really good publicity team." Ino responded.
"It makes sense, to some extent." The two stared at Shikamaru, waiting for an explanation
"I think you would want a global ambassador to have some clout behind her name, I mean that kind of publicity can't really hurt her." He quickly said. "Not to mention she is the Hyuuga heiress."
Ino nodded, mollified. "Well I was surprised, she wasn't all red and stuttery. She wasn't…Hinata-chan."
"He really did a number on her, didn't he?" She asked airily, all of them knowing exactly who the he was.
Shikamaru's eyes narrowed slightly, defensive of his friend. "There are always two sides to every story, Ino. You should know that what with you being the gossip queen."
"I am not the gossip queen! And if you know so much, why don't you enlighten us Oh Lord Know It All?" She bantered huffily.
"Troublesome woman, it's not my story to tell."
Chouji remained wisely silent, stuffing his mouth with more of the delicious tender beef.
The rain beat outside, increasing in severity, till the slight pitter-patter had become something else altogether. The slate atmosphere and the dim street lighting near the small inn rendered the tiny room dark, without the aid of artificial light.
The room was simple. A full size bed with a cream duvet and chartreuse cotton sheets. Thin gossamer curtains and here and there several chests of drawers for the occupants belongings. On the wall opposite the bed, facing the window, rested an impressionistic floral painting, depicting a field of lavender mourning bride flowers (3), their many petaled buttons softly brushing against sprigs of small, star shaped henbane flowers (4), their dark centers being the only boldness of the painting.
Hinata sat curled up on the bed, her knees to her chest, and her head bent, shadowed by her heavy bangs. She was lost again in the torrent of the rain, lost in the repetition of a precious memory.
It was pouring then, her white umbrella lay soiled in a puddle, bent and broken, just like her at that moment. Her fingers trembled at the icy chill of the water, her waist-length hair stuck uncomfortably close to her as she looked at him, eyes wide in disbelief.
"W-What do you mean?" she queried softly.
"I can't do this to you. I can't lead you on, when I might still lo-"
"Don't!"
It was his turn to stare in disbelief. His damp blonde hair, no longer in its usual unruly style framed his widened stone blue eyes. His mouth gaped in mid speech, as he tentatively reached for her. What could he say? What would she say?
"Hinata…"
"I know…" She shakily began, startling him. She looked down hesitating. "I know we can't change who w-we have f-feelings for. And I-I understand that but…"
"Hinata, I want to…I mean I.."
She suddenly looked up, her eyes determined and a gentle request brewing in them.
"Time." She stated simply.
"What?"
"Time" She repeated. "Give me time to be b-by your side, give me time to show you."
"But I can't hurt y-."
"You won't." She smiled gently. "You won't because I'm being selfish this time and I want to stay by your side Naruto-kun."
Unbeknownst to her, his heart was racing and the warm tendrils of...something began to curl in his chest.
Hinata had resumed gazing at the small ripples creating by the rain drops, unfeeling of the chill. All she felt was a sudden blazing warmth and a piney scent filled her nose, a slight aroma of ramen broth accompanying it. And in her line of sight, all she could see was…orange.
He was hugging her.
His arms encircled her waist tightly crushing her to his chest, and her face was buried in his coat. And before she could respond or even register her emotions, there came a quiet…
"Thank you, Hinata-chan."
Her arms lifted from her sides to rest on his broad back, clutching at his wet cloak. The two stayed in the rain, embracing, oblivious to the increased torrent of the downpour and their drenched clothes.
The white umbrella lay forgotten on the ground.
White chrysanthemum- tell the truth, honesty
Cobaea- gossip
Mourning bride- an unfortunate attachment
Henbane- imperfection
