Some deaths were quiet. A soul would just slip away in the middle of the night and wait for them to come. Some were more violent, causing confusion and denial of their own mortality. Itachi wondered what her death would be like.
Something humans didn't like to think about was how they would die. They talked about what they shouldn't do so they didn't die, but when it came down to the reality that they might or someone was too ill to save, suddenly no one wanted to anymore.
Modern funerals had an uncomfortable air. Instead of a celebration of the time they had with the life, they collectively mourned that they couldn't keep it. What would humans be like if they remembered the memories fondly instead of wishing for more?
But Itachi couldn't say he was much different. Human lives were short, and he had learned this lesson before, but he still followed her about, clung to her life as it was now, and he would want more when she was gone.
Maybe he was closer to human than he thought.
This time Hinata waved when the girl peeked in again. She ducked out of sight and didn't come back up. Maybe Hinata scared her. Did she think they couldn't see her out the window?
"Well, it's running." Kiba came out of the back room with his hands on his hips and a smudge on his cheek.
Hinata nodded toward the window. "That girl was out there again."
"What, girl?" Kiba walked behind the counter to collect a clipboard.
"There's a girl who looks in every day on her way home from school." Hinata hummed, thread ripping a seam.
Kiba scribbled something she was not going to be able to read later. "Oh, we'll have to catch her some time." He pointed his pen at the pillow she rested under her chest that was helping her sit up straight. "Do you need anything?" Hinata blinked at him. "You don't need pads or anything?"
Hinata flushed. "Uh, no, thank you."
Kiba shrugged at her embarrassment. "Older sister likes a heating pad."
Hinata shook her head. "I'm fine."
Kiba put the clipboard back and headed back to the backroom. Hinata was happy that he was supportive, but she was more than a little mortified that that's what he jumped to.
Hinata put her seam ripper down and looked back out the window for a sign of Itachi. He came and went in no discernible pattern, probably because people didn't die on a schedule, but he consistently came back. Was there going to be a time when she would look for him and never find him again? Would he become bored with her?
How would she feel about it?
Hinata felt silly, wondering if she would miss grim reaper, but she felt silly for knowing one.
Would her father know anything about her mother's family? There was no easy way to ask him, he hadn't spoken to her since she moved out, and he wasn't speaking to her before that. Hinata knew at least he agreed with her that Hanabi's death was her fault.
Hinata felt a nudge to her hip as Akumaru dropped his toy. He knew he wasn't allowed in the back room, so he couldn't beg Kiba. "I can't play tug with you." She pet his head. Akamaru made a noise setting his head next to her hip. "I'm sorry."
Hinata blinked at the clock. It was still the middle of the night still, and her face was coated in sweat from the nightmare that woke her up. Her bruised throat wasn't constricting like it had been in her dream. Hinata took a few slow, deliberate breaths to assure herself that she could breathe.
Her rib cage was freezing despite the sweat on her face.
Itachi's arm was still there as well as his weight behind her on the bed. This was the first time she woke up before he disappeared. Sometimes she wondered if he thought she didn't notice, but surely he understood that she could still feel the cold. Then why make be so careful she never caught him?
Hinata closed her eyes again, focusing on the cold irradiating across her rib cage, feeling the effects of the nightmare wear off as her heart rate went down. Would he be gone again when she woke up?
Hinata thumbed past the books with a familiar stale smell. Rows and rows of shelves filled with titles that taunted and reminded her that she never finished school, and she had long since sat down to enjoy a book. Her finger slid up the spine of the one she wanted as she pulled it out. She set it on her stack on her good side and brought them to an empty table.
The sun coming in the window actually made the place she sat warm, but the glare it was putting on the shiny varnish on the table made her stomach turn. She would take a few home with her, but she didn't have a library card, and she didn't want to bother the sour-faced clerk at the counter after the fight it had been to get her to look up a few books.
The ghost of the poor heater was trying desperately to keep the vast room warm, but it was old and struggled to even put out a lukewarm gust from the vents. Hinata lowered her face into her scarf. She hadn't thawed from the wind outside.
The light outside weaned until the warm beam of light cast over her table was gone, and she decided to go collect the notes she took and put the books back in the place she found them to avoid the ire of the librarian.
She stepped back out on the street with her head full of thoughts. She couldn't tell what of the research she was doing was true. Since most people couldn't see ghosts, whatever they believed did or didn't affect ghosts could be all superstition or a con artist fortune-teller trying to make a buck.
But there was one thing that she came across that answered a question she had. Old lore about offering to the dead. Like burning clothes to gift the dead something to wear. It explained how Itachi was given his coat and why it smelled like ash.
Itachi said it was a gift, but he never said who gave it to him. If they were alive… they probably weren't now. Living forever sounded lonely. How long would he hover around her? Would he wait around until she died too?
Would he be sad when she was gone?
Hinata shivered and winced, feeling her rib react. Did the person who gave him the coat worry about him being cold? It passed her mind occasionally, especially since he kept leaving his coat with her.
Hinata looked up from her walk home to Itachi, waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs. What would he do all day when she was gone?
Itachi caught her hand as she set his tea down. "What happened to your finger?"
"Paper cut." Hinata sat down beside him when he didn't release her hand.
"I want to try something." Itachi peeled the bandage off and placed his cold finger over the cut.
The skin became warm and kept heating up until she couldn't stand it anymore, and she yanked her hand back. "Ow! What was that?"
Itachi reached his hand out, asking for hers back. "Did it hurt?"
"Not at first, but it got too hot." Hinata set her hand back in his.
"Hot?" Itachi turned her hand, and Hinata realized the paper cut was gone.
Hinata shifted her finger to see it better. "What did you do?"
"I sped up time," Itachi explained. "I've never used it on the living before."
That was not confronting. "Do you have to do it that quickly?"
"No, I didn't know it would be painful," Itachi explained. "Though, it might work on your neck," His hand ghosted past her neck, pushing her hair out of his view of the healing bruise. It was still obvious, even if the edges were starting to yellow. "Your ribs present more risk."
Itachi turned toward her and held his hands up to her neck. Hinata lifted her head to give him access, but her eyes went from calm to terror as he got closer. She clenched them shut before he could even touch her neck. He paused.
Hinata was strangled. If this position would make her uncomfortable, why wasn't she saying anything about it?
Itachi retracted and shifted on the couch, alerting her that he stopped. "Lie down."
Hinata did what she was told, tucking her legs behind him. Itachi offered his hand in front of her, confusion played out on her face, but she took it. Now he would be able to tell if he was hurting her or if she was uncomfortable.
Itachi rested only the knuckle of his other hand on her neck. Hinata was visibly more comfortable but still closed her eyes and bit down on her lip as she waited for the fear to come back. Was this the first time he scared her?
Why wasn't she more scared of him?
By the time he was done with her neck, her breathing had evened out, and her heart rate had gone down. She was asleep. How was she so terrified that it showed up on her face so plainly, but she could just fall asleep with him there less than an hour later?