Day 3

- A Glance That Reveals Everything -

The birds that reside in the eastern, residential side of Konoha are none too pleased with Sasuke. He comes with a step ladder and lopping shears, which he hauls with him, house to house, to trim the branches that are too low or too unbalanced. Eastern Konoha, if you want Sasuke's opinion, is the prissy side of Konoha where all the houses look the same and neighbors start making a hoot over nothing if one door is two shades off eggshell white. He's not surprised at all when he hears they're upset the trees at the fronts of their homes aren't perfectly the same, and he quietly hopes no one will come marching out of their home to nag his ear off about a certain branch — so Sasuke skillfully keeps an irked, don't-fuck-with-me expression the entire time he's on the job.

The tough thing about it is: Sasuke doesn't feel that way at all.

Actually, he feels sort of — kind of —

"Abashed."

Sai, with his shears promptly shoved under his arm, taps his finger on the open page of his ever-so-used book titled Every Emotion A Ninja Can Feel, Vol. II. For whatever reason, the Hokage saw this mission as a two-man job, and it seemed Sai was the available one they decided to place with Sasuke.

Not that he's complaining.

He'd rather Sai than a snot-nosed genin who might wet himself if he gets even a glance of acknowledgment from the big, bad Konoha traitor.

Sasuke wipes the sweat from his forehead. The cloudless sky allows the sun to ruthlessly burn his skin, and while the labor is minimal, the heat is already getting to him. Tugging his collar away from his neck, allowing the breeze to wash over the damp skin, he gives his teammate a look from his spot on top of his step ladder.

"Sounds familiar," he says. "What's it mean again?"

"Embarrassed or ashamed."

"Ah." Well, it's not exactly a first for Sasuke to feel ashamed over something. Perhaps a genin would call anyone who'd think Uchiha Sasuke capable of feeling such emotions crazy, but in reality, Sasuke feels many things. Especially with recent realizations and developments regarding Hyuuga Hinata.

"I can imagine why," Sai murmurs like he's talking to himself, but his eyes are set on Sasuke.

"It's not a mystery," Sasuke says, almost bitterly.

"You don't exactly have game."

What? Again, Sasuke is floored. Maybe he should get his hands on that book — if only to extend his vocabulary further.

"You'll have to explain that one, too."

Realizing that just standing around and fanning himself won't get this job done any quicker, Sasuke throws himself back to work. Believe it or not, using lopping shears with one hand is not exactly an easy feat. But then again, Gai has a sick way of forcing Sasuke to problem-solve (a skill that has definitely helped him adjust to life here in the past several months), so he's not exactly complaining. Figuring out how to work with the things wasn't too hard. He'd use the biceps of his left arm to rest one of the handles on, thus allowing his right hand to guide the shears in place and put in the power to cut the branch off. After a few awkward tries, Sasuke got into the groove of it rather quickly; he even learned to rest the handle on his shoulder or neck for higher up branches.

Needless to say, he's already in the motions of aiming for a rather tricky branch when Sai says, "It means you're not good at wooing."

Wooing. Sasuke definitely knows what that means, and that feeling — What word did Sai use again? Abrushed? — creeps into the corners of his mouth and makes them heavy.

"Right." Just the day prior makes that fact totally obvious. All he had said was a simple, nice 'Welcome home', she Hinata looked like — like — "I think I almost made her cry yesterday."

"Some girls like that," Sai mentions. He places his book down on the spot where they put their packs and other equipment and starts working on lopping off branches from his own tree. "I read it somewhere. It seems counterintuitive, but the book said girls can be strange things at times."

Sasuke frowns, still not liking the image that keeps playing in his head — Hinata at her front door, eyes glassy and wide as she stares at him. He felt like he was just caught killing her dog or something.

"Do you want to make a girl cry?" he asks. It's not a fair question. He knows Sai's struggling in his own woes of romance. But even so, he's going to have to learn somehow.

Sai has a pensive expression that slowly turns sheepish. "No," he says. "Not really."

Feeling that they're on the same footing now, Sasuke nods. "It's not a good feeling."

"You've made Sakura cry plenty of times."

Ouch. It feels like he was just stabbed in the back. "Sai."

"Oh." Sai shoots him an apologetic look. "That was insensitive."

Sighing, Sasuke jumps down from the ladder before his frustration causes him to lop off half of the tree. He rounds the one he had been working on, trimming a few spots that seem uneven, and when satisfied with the look of it, he drops the shears to rake all the twigs and branches into a trash bag they haul along with them. Sai is quick to finish as well, and they soon move on to the next yard.

"Yeah," Sasuke says, "I'm not a good guy. Sakura can attest to that." He still remembers the biting feeling he felt when he first returned to Konoha. Naruto was glad to have him back — but, of course, he was the one who dragged him back in the first place. Of course he'd be glad. But Sakura — though she tried to pretend — had walls that were obviously up, and he knew it'd take time to get them to lower down and accept him again. To this day, he's still working on that. "I don't want to do that to Hinata."

"You almost did."

"Sai."

"Sorry."

From the front window of the next house, a woman watches them drag their equipment and bags over to her tree. Sasuke, weary that she'll come out to pester them, makes sure his usual, "bloodchilling" expression is still in place.

"Do you have a plan?" Sai asks. "To woo her, I mean."

All that Sasuke's come up with thus far is 'chasing' her. Beyond that, it's a blank slate. "It's in the works."

"Have you considered asking Kakashi for —"

"Absolutely not." The last thing he needs is that old man sticking his nose in his business more than he already does. The idea of Kakashi giving him advice about flirting and sliding his little, R-rated books across the table for Sasuke to read at his own whims is more humiliating than anything else. Sasuke would rather trip and crash through this whole ordeal on his own accord than have that man's help. "I'll figure this out myself."

Sai hums as Sasuke sets up the ladder and climbs up to the third step.

"I have a few books."

A suspicious expression slips onto Sasuke's face before he can stop it. "Do you now?"

"They're helping me," Sai offers. "Maybe they can —"

"Excuse me!"

Sai blinks, momentarily stunned, as the shriek of a woman breaks through their conversation. The woman from the window is now exiting her home and marching down the yard. A groan rumbles in the depths of Sasuke's throat. Great.

The woman is dressed in a simple gown with a light blue robe over it. Her eyes are heavy with mascara, and she peers at them like she blames them for interrupting her make-up process. Arms crossed, she struts up to Sai, giving him most of her glare. It seems that, despite her brevity to walk up to them, she is still aware of the history of the man currently half-covered in her tree.

"I really must ask that you be the one to trim my tree, young man," she tells Sai, who falls into a curious state. Young man. Sasuke doubts Sai's ever been called such a thing before. "It's very important that my tree is the exact shape and size as all the other ones. I can't be the only one on the block with a misshaped tree! I'd be a laughing stock!"

What a tragedy. Now Sasuke's really tempted to destroy anything his trimmers can reach.

Sai tips his head, almost like a dog. "My partner is more than capable to —"

"You can't be serious." Her arms fly out to gesture wildly as Sasuke, though she still refuses to look his way. "You think a cripple can trim my tree?"

Out of habit, chakra burns through Sasuke's arm. It searches for fingers to collect within, at the ready for any attack Sasuke may need. But there is no hand connected to his left arm. There's no wrist, no elbow — so chakra flares out, irritated and lost, and the burn makes Sasuke grit his teeth. Even civilians would be able to feel the pulsing presence of fury and aggravated chakra coming from Sasuke's being, but this lady either does not, or is stupid enough to ignore it.

If Sasuke was the man he was two years ago, he would not stand for insult against his name and pride.

Instead, he stays on his ladder, watching the — truthfully, terrifying — smile that curls onto Sai's mouth as he regards the woman.

"Ma'am, I believe I can think of some ways to help you so you won't have to worry about anything ever again."

His monotone makes the threat abundantly clear, and with a tremble to her hands that she tries to hide, the woman, step-by-step, leaves them to their business and returns to her home. Sasuke does not have a doubt in his mind that she'll be calling up her friends as she peeks through the blinds of her windows, complaining about the traitor and the psychopath lopping at her trees.

Annoying.

They trim the tree, rake up the branches and leaves, and move on to the next home.

...

Slowly, conversation gathers between Sasuke and Sai once the frustration washes away. They talk about Konoha 12 and what everyone's been up to. They talk about all the new things the Hokage has been implementing into Konoha. They talk about anything that isn't that topic from before — because now, strangely, it's awkward. It bites at their nerves in a way that makes them want to think about anything else. They hunger for distraction.

When the job is done, Sai helps Sasuke throw all the trash bags into the bin and gather all the tools up to haul back to the Hokage Tower. When that's over, Sai says his farewells.

"You're not coming?" Sasuke asks. It's his mission as well. They'd both need to report to Shikamaru, no matter how mundane a mission it was.

Sai shakes his head. "It wasn't my mission to begin with."

Without further explanation, Sai leaves, and Sasuke, hauling all those tools, makes his way to the Hokage Tower.

The tickle at the back of his mind wonders if that awkward, cautious feeling was one-sided on Sasuke's end.

Sai doesn't just pick up D-Rank missions for the fun of it, after all.

...

The beige envelope in his hand holds this month's rent. It smells like the air spray they use at the nearby bank — fruity, though not exactly citrusy — and weighs like a ton of bricks when compared to the weight of the wallet shoved into his side pocket, light, barely even there.

It's almost two-thirds of what he made from missions. A genin would be pleased with such a stack, probably waving it in the faces of his friends or spending it on the latest, totally-not-kiddish toys.

Sasuke grew out of his toy phase when his entire clan was murdered by his brother. As for waving money in a friend's face . . . .

He can only imagine the booming cackle he'd get from Naruto, so Sasuke swallows hard, frowns, and shoves rent into the same pocket as his shriveling wallet.

If he asked, Kakashi would probably lower rent.

He didn't in the beginning. In fact, he purposefully made it high to keep him busy with missions. His first few weeks were terribly tiring, with Sasuke crawling back to his closet of a room when it was pitch black outside, so tired that he'd barely have the energy to wash the grime off his body before he'd collapse in bed, only to wake at the crack of dawn to be dragged through another day of endless labor. Had he any free time back then, Sasuke's not sure what he would have done. He couldn't have moved. No one was willing to allow a freshly-caught traitor into their apartments back then — and even now, nine months later, he doubts many would.

Kakashi kept him in line, and now —

Well, he's getting better. He's trying; and Kakashi can see that. If Sasuke asked, he'd probably lower the rent for him.

But even now, despite the gallons of humility shoved down his throat, Sasuke still has some fractions of his previous, swollen pride. Accepting free food from Sai is one thing — asking his mentor to lower rent because he's struggling is another.

Sasuke would rather adopt Naruto's favorite diet of ramen for the next week or two.

And, from the looks of it, that's exactly what he'll be doing.

...

Kakashi's place is (aggravatingly) smack dab in one of the most busy districts in Konoha. Every time Sasuke walks home, he has to pass by a preschool where toddlers point and scream "DEMON" as they wait for their parents to come get them. Every day, he has to avoid that section of the sidewalk that seems to stick up more and more each week, as if someone is purposely messing with it in hopes he'll one day trip and bruise his nose or something. Every day, the street falls deadly quiet when he's out; when he's in his room, out of sight, it is like all of Konoha breathes a sigh of relief and continues on with the kind of ruckus and noise that keeps him up late at night.

If Sasuke was fifteen years younger and paranoid, he might think Kakashi saw into the future, discovered that his former student would one day be living in that extra room on the second floor, and picked the busiest part of Konoha just to spite him.

Thinking like that does him no good, of course.

Sasuke tests the knob first upon coming to the front door. When he finds it's unlocked, he doesn't bother to dig out his key and plods inside. He toes off his sandals and finds the kitchen off to the side, yanking out that beige envelope and dropping it on the counter without much enthusiasm.

He's grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge when Kakashi comes from the hallway. He barely gives rent a glance as he leans against the side of the counter, subtly trapping Sasuke in the kitchen. Truthfully, he could go the other way around the small island and reach the staircase in no time, but Sasuke knows that Kakashi would read that as him avoiding something.

Which he isn't.

Definitely not.

So Sasuke stands with his back against the fridge door, drinking his water without much conviction.

Kakashi gives him a look over, humming. "You look like a mess."

Sasuke scoffs. "Tell that to the Hokage."

"Rough mission?"

That lady's face flashes across the backs of his eyes, and phantom pain strikes him again. Sasuke has to clench his jaw to hide the effects on his expression. "No. Boring."

Kakashi finally turns his attention to the envelope, opening it with ease and thumbing through the paper bills inside. "How are you on money?"

Turning his body just the slightest bit so that the pocket with his wallet is out of view, Sasuke replies, "Fine. Drowning in it, really."

"Right." Kakashi's tone is anything but believing.

Drinking the rest of his water, Sasuke crushes the bottle against his hip before tossing it into the recycling bin by the edge of the counter. "Is there a reason you're cornering me in your kitchen?"

Kakashi feigns an innocent look. It's not very convincing, and he probably knows that, too, for his tone doesn't match it at all. "What? I need a reason to talk to you?"

"Get out with it," Sasuke sighs.

Snorting, Kakashi neatly puts the bills back into the envelope before sticking it into the pocket of his own pants.

"Actually, now that you mention it, there is something I wanted to discuss." Figures. Giving in, Sasuke doesn't bother to move from his spot against the fridge. "It has to do with — well, with . . . that Inuzuka kid." Sasuke figures he's talking about Inuzuka Kiba, which is strange. Firstly, Team 8 hardly comes up in their usual chats; and secondly, Kakashi never forgets a name. "Him and his teammate. The Hyuuga —"

"Hinata," Sasuke offers before he can stop himself.

"Yes," Kakashi says, smiling under the cloth of his mask. "Hinata."

The way he says her name makes Sasuke . . . . curl up, for some reason.

"What about her?" Them, he should have said. Hell, what is he doing!?

"She's going back to Suna." What? "You know, she used to live there for almost two years, if I recall correctly. I guess it only makes sense for the wedding to be there." Wedding!? "But I'm rambling. Anywho, I heard from Kurenai that Kiba is searching for a —"

"What wedding?"

Throughout his speech, Kakashi had pushed off the side of the counter to walk behind one of the sofas in the living room, pulling back a length of curtain with his foot so that sunshine and color may spring along the floorboards. Upon Sasuke's interjection, he pauses mid-step to find his gaze across the way.

"You haven't heard?" Kakashi asks. "Hinata's."

The earth shakes as if the roof has crumbled and fallen into piles of rubble around him. What? Hinata's getting married? She is? But Ino and Tenten — and he doesn't remember there being a ring — but he really hadn't been looking for one, had he? He just assumed she was single. Wasn't she?

"There's no wedding."

Kakashi's brows lift. "Oh?"

"Hinata's not getting married."

"Mn. Her to-be won't be happy to hear you say that —"

"You're lying." He is, isn't he? He has to be. There's no way — Hinata can't be — after all this time, after Sasuke finally decided to pursue her — she —

"You're right."

Sasuke grimaces as Kakashi's droned response flitters through the air.

"I'm lying," he continues. "For research, of course. I wanted to see what stage you were in."

The grimace does not leave. "Stage?"

Kakashi sighs like all his cryptic talk should be clear. Looming over the small coffee table between the two sofas, Kakashi thumbs through Sasuke's rent once more, carefully counting before pulling a wad out and dropping it onto the table. "Iruka betted you'd be out of the denial stage. Gai hopped on it, too — damn bastard. He always picks last so he gets the winning team. Personally, I figured you'd still have a few months left in the denial stage. Even if you did walk her home and everything, that doesn't mean —"

"How do you know that?" Kakashi wasn't stalking him, was he? Kakashi doesn't stalk.

But then again, Sasuke didn't think he took bets on 'stages' or whatever the hell he was on about, so he supposes anything is possible with this guy.

Kakashi drops another wad on the coffee table before answering. "Shikamaru told Gai, and — well, I don't have to tell you what Gai did with that kind of information."

Sasuke thinks his head is full of beetles or something. It's all loud and jumbled and messy. Before he knows it, Kakashi's back in the kitchen, arms crossed and back against the island.

"So." His grin is obvious in his voice. "Hinata."

Sasuke soaks in his irritation, if only to hide away his embarrassment. "If this is all you wanted to talk about, I'm —"

"You're after her, right?"

When such a thing is said out loud, it's . . . different. In the privacy of his head, Sasuke can handle it. It's just a gentle hum of acknowledgment that he's, indeed, pursuing Hyuuga Hinata. But when said out loud, especially by Kakashi, that soft feeling in the back of his mind flares up. It burns and eats at his self-control. His heart jolts awake, rustled from a comfortable dream, now forced to face his yearn for Hinata that hasn't stopped existing for so, so long.

He can't deny it even if he wanted to.

Kakashi seems to already know everything.

Kicking his heel into the fridge, Sasuke starts out of the kitchen. "Don't bother me with this."

Kakashi's eyes follow him. "Mmn. Do you even know what you're doing? If you need advice, I can —"

"No."

Sasuke goes up the staircase, sometimes hopping over two steps at once to get to the top quicker. When he finally reaches his room, he shuts and locks the door behind him.

For the rest of the day, he tries to put his heart back to sleep. If he thinks about Hinata too long, it leaps into attention, and he has to start all over again.

...

Sasuke sneaks out of his room before the sun returns to the sky. He has nothing but his mostly-empty wallet and the house key stuffed in his pocket. Somehow, he feels like a teenager sneaking out of his guardian's house to find something to get himself tangled in; but that's not it at all. He's allowed to come and go whenever he pleases. The man takes most of his money for rent anyway, so he should at least be allowed that freedom!
The gray glow of dawn washes over Konoha as the sun slowly makes its way towards the horizon. Birds twitter, trees stretch, and there is peace even in the busiest, loudest section of Konoha. There are children in preschool who run to their windows to point and stare. There are no women hiding around corners, holding their hands to their mouths, as if expecting him to appear before them and attack.

Konoha without the people is almost nice.

So Sasuke enjoys the stroll, breathing deeply through his nose, and enjoys it while it lasts.

...

He's able to find her in the crowd.

Konoha stirs at six, busies at eight, and floods at nine. There are people everywhere, but the only one that catches his eye is Hinata. Her hair is twisted up, and he stares at the back of her neck that is so familiar to him, despite it being a part of her he seldom looked at in the past. He recognizes her beyond that indigo color to her hair. She walks like a Hyuuga, avoiding shoulders and backs with ease. She walks like her eyes are shut and she can see every street, every nook, every ninja and civilian like it's a detailed map presented to her.

Only Hyuugas walk in such a way, so Sasuke slips through the crowd to catch up to her. It's not a difficult thing. Once people realize it's Uchiha Sasuke that is passing by, they shudder against the fronts of stores until he's out of sight. Less and less people get in his way. He's close enough to touch her shoulder, but he doesn't.

Instead, he calls, "Hinata."

Her skull tips back as her chin lifts in acknowledgment, and she turns with her arms stuck to her side, careful to not accidentally wack anyone with an elbow. Not that she has to worry.

No one is around.

"Good . . . morning," she greets, ever polite, though the question in her eyes is notable.

"Morning."

And the conversation comes to a screeching halt there. Truthfully, he hadn't been thinking when he followed her. He called out to her, and that was it. There wasn't a plan after that, and with every passing second, that question becomes more and more obvious, and Sasuke's tongue-tied.

Should he make up an excuse for why he called for her?

But that seems manipulative, doesn't it?

But it doesn't seem like the right atmosphere to admit he's been thinking about her all night — and that he's been wanting to see her, so when he finally did, he just acted without another thought.

Hinata fidgets, as if she's the one who called out to someone randomly, before turning slightly so that her shoulder points towards the shopping district down the ways. "I'm, um, actually buying mission supplies." Her gaze turns back to him, searching. "Is that where you happen to be going? I just — ah, I figured . . . since you had been in Shikamaru's office that day . . . ."

Unknowingly, Hinata has just given him an out, and he latches onto it before he can think about it for too long.

"May I join you?"

She smiles, which is nice to see. It's nothing like that upset look she had the last time he spoke to her.

"Oh, please!"

She sounds pleased. Dare he say even happy?

Sasuke isn't the kind to show up and instantly make the mood lighter, so this is not a reaction he's not used to. Not that he's displeased, of course.

Actually, when he joins her at her side, sharing the street with her — someone who does not cower and hide when he's around — Sasuke thinks he's pleased — dare he say even happy? — himself.

...

"I'm sorry about the other day."

There's a limited amount of days between them, so it's not hard to figure out what she's talking about. But when he thinks about that time he was in front of her home, watching her walk up to her door, he doesn't think there's anything that she should apologize for. She didn't spit in his face. She didn't look at him like a monster. Was it because she hadn't invited him inside? Is that required for something like walking someone home?

Maybe his knowledge on etiquette is rusty, or maybe Konoha has adopted some weird rules in the years he's been gone.

Ah, but it's true she'd been in Suna for about two years. Maybe that was something she picked up there.

"Nothing to apologize for," he says.

Hinata curls her right arm back to avoid running into a child. "I feel as though I gave you the wrong impression."

Oh.

Did she somehow figure him out? Is this a rejection? He hasn't even had the chance to do anything yet.

"I was thankful that you walked me home," she explains. "If I gave the impression that I was upset, that had nothing to do with you, and I'm sorry."

Ah. So that's what she's talking about.

That memory of her glassy eyes turns less bitter and jumbled in his head, and Sasuke breathes a low, quiet sigh of relief. "Good," he says. "I was beating myself up over it."

Hinata's head snaps up, and she stops in the street, gawking. "Oh, I am so sorry!"

She . . . wasn't meant to take that literally. Her mouth trembles with a slew of apologies, so Sasuke tries to smile to show he's messing with her. And it works (he thinks). Her shoulders relax as she analyzes his expression, and then she lets out a small laugh.

"You're joking."

"You took that seriously?"

"I'll never take you seriously again."

The idea that she might laugh in his face when he confesses to her is not exactly frightening, but more so amusing. "Let's not go that far."

...

When they reach the shop that sells kunai, Sasuke stops at the entrance.

"Go ahead," he tells her.

But Hinata doesn't. She stays outside with him. "Is something wrong?"

Yes. Two things actually.

Firstly, there's a rather empty feeling to his wallet. The short amount of cash that he has on him would be better spent on food or next month's rent than on weapons he won't even be using for that class of missions he's been stuck with for the past ten months.

Secondly, even if he did have the money, it's not like anyone would sell to him. In the same sense that home-owners do not want to offer a place to stay for a man they don't even want in Konoha in the first place, weapon sellers aren't keen on giving out weapons to traitors whom they do not trust. If he enters that shop, he doubts he or Hinata will be given any sort of offer.

"I'm good on kunai," is all he says.

Hinata squints, not buying it, and hooks her ankle around the door to prop it open, inviting him inside. Ignoring such a request would be rude (and he does not want to give her the impression he's still that rude, juvenile boy he once was), so Sasuke enters with her.

The shop has been owned by the same family for seven generations, if Sasuke remembers correctly. When he was a genin, it was old Mr. Itoti that owned the place. Now it is his grandson, and he has the same scowl and the same sharp eyes as his grandfather.

Mr. Itoti does not look pleased at all when he sees Sasuke walk through his front door. He rolls up his sleeves to show off the tan scars on his biceps and crosses his arms over his chest. The warning is obvious, but Sasuke trails Hinata, already committed.

"Good morning," Hinata greets.

Mr. Itoti snorts, never looking away from him. "Never thought I'd have the displeasure of seein' you ever come back here."

Sasuke's tongue stays still and patient. No matter what he says, he'll only aggravate the shop owner even more, so Sasuke keeps to himself, falling behind Hinata's right shoulder to peer at the kunai presented inside the glass case of the front counter.

Mr. Itoti's glare does not let up. He almost looks half-Inuzuka with how thin his irises are — and that's a thought Sasuke will keep in the comfortable isolation of his thoughts. Irritation rolls off the man like a landslide. The more minutes pass, the more his patience turns thin.

He looks about ready to shove him out of his store when Hinata places a hand on the glass.

"Is this the one Nanami made?"

The light tap of her nail against the glass is enough to catch Mr. Itoti's attention, and he leans over to note the make of the kunai she's pointing at.

"That's right," he says with a nod. "She started working on it last month."

"I've heard good things about it." Hinata smiles up at him. "Tenten says it aims like a dream. Can I look at it?"

A bit of irritation wipes off his face as Mr. Itoti opens the back of the glass holding, carefully taking out the kunai with a handkerchief and placing it on the counter for all to see. To the untrained eye, it may look like any other kunai, but Sasuke sees a difference in the make. The blade is thinner, perhaps even made out of different material, and the handle is a few centimeters longer, with the knob on the end made to fit the radius of a regular pointer finger.

Hinata lifts it from the handkerchief, inspecting it. The way she handles kunai is majestic. The metal blade resting against the delicate hill of her thumb is a sort of temptation that is magnetic, and Sasuke draws in like it's instinct.

There's something dangerous about her. Capable hands holding weapons like they're nothing. Her head tilts as she examines the edges of the kunai, able to spot any dullness to the blade without having to activate that dojutsu of hers that Sasuke has not seen in a while — but wants to. He suddenly, desperately, wants to.

Pleased with her findings, Hinata takes the handle in her palm.

Sasuke can imagine her holding that exact kunai to an enemy's neck. He can imagine the tip grazing that sensitive skin beneath his jaw. This might be the first time in years he wouldn't mind being regarded as the enemy.

"How many has Nanami made?" Hinata asks Mr. Itoti.

"Three-forty overall."

"I'll take thirty in the kunoichi size." She places the kunai back on the handkerchief. "You'll have to tell her she's doing good work for me."

Mr. Itoti laughs and nods and goes in the back to gather the required amount of kunai. Hinata takes a moment to look around the shop before turning to Sasuke, a guilty look on her face.

"I'm sorry," she says. "I forgot to ask if you wanted anything."

He shakes his head, explaining that he's fine. Mr. Itoti returns with all the kunai packed securely in a bag, and after paying, she bows and thanks him, and both she and Sasuke return to the hot morning outside.

...

They go from shop to shop, greeted by old and new faces alike. Whenever it seems like the shopkeepers are about to give Sasuke trouble, Hinata is always able to step in and steer attention to something else. It's like a gift, almost. A talent that not many have.

Suddenly, busy streets don't seem so bad.

When they leave the last store on Hinata's mental list, she smoothly maneuvers around a group of people before meeting him at his side. She has to tip her head when looking at him, which always manages to trap air in his lungs for a second too long to be considered normal.

"Strange," she says.

He gives her a look down his nose. "What is?"

"We visited eight places." She carefully counts her list on her fingertips. "You didn't get anything at any of them."

Bitterness balances on his mouth. "I'm broke, Hinata."

. . . That's probably not something he should admit to the person he's trying to woo.

Hinata takes a moment to look down at the bags wrapped around her hands, then offers him a guilty smile. "I could have gotten you something," she says. "It wouldn't have been a problem."

Now he's really starting to feel bad.

"No, Hinata." Is he saying her name too much? It feels nice in his mouth. "I didn't need weapons to begin with."

The wonder springs like jackalopes from her eyes, hopping through the air. If you don't need weapons, then why . . . ?

They circle Sasuke and make him dizzy, so he stops in the middle of that busy road and does not move. People shove past him, throw their heads back to plunge an insult into him, realize he's that fire-breathing traitor, and promptly scuttle away. They hop like jackalopes, too, but Sasuke's more interested in Hinata's jackalopes.

Do they think she's brave to be standing, toe-to-toe, with him?

Funny.

Right now, Sasuke's having to be the brave one.

"I wanted to see you."

The street grows less and less crowded as civilians avoid that stuck man in the road. Deep in the mists of his mind, where naive, silly things hide, he imagines they're respecting the silence necessary for such a confession. These things need time and peace to settle, after all.

Especially for Hinata.

It covers her like a blanket, barely soaking into her skin. She looks at him like a weapon, then like a man, and Sasuke bites his tongue and waits.

Eventually, she says, "You mean . . . ."

"Yeah," he says. "I wanted to be with you."

Her hands wrap around the twisted handles of her bags. If they were necks, she'd be strangling them.

His attention slowly lifts to the peaks of her shoulders, then the pale white of her complexion, then to the storm in her eyes.

That . . . is not the look he was hoping for.

She looks terrified.

Did he say something wrong?

Is admitting you want to be with someone a bad thing?

Or is it because he's Uchiha Sasuke? He's not that boy years ago. She's not sneaking to his place every so often to gift him lemon water and a short, special message on pink sugar packets anymore.

He's a traitor, and she —

She's something else.

He's not sure what, but there's something there. And he wants to figure it out. He does! But he can't if she's scared of him, if she's going to look at him like this every time he gets close.

Lying will only get him farther away from his goal; but just this once, he lies.

"There's a reason for that." His brain scrapes for anything. Missions — but he's trapped in D-Rank! Friends — but what can he make up about a mutual friend that won't blow up in his face later? He scrambles, thinking about anything in life that would excuse why he's approached her. And when an idea hits him, he takes it. "I need a partner."

Her eyes blink rapidly. "A-A partner?"

"Someone to work-out with." Now that he's saying it out loud . . . doesn't this sound like the most unromantic thing in the world?

But before he can take it back, Hinata smiles and nods.

"Work-out partner," she repeats with a content smile, rubbing vinegar and salt into the gaping wound that is his Uchiha pride. "That makes sense."

It doesn't!

One of the jackalopes is suddenly sporting green spandex and an obnoxiously outdated haircut. He leaps with joy next to Sasuke's leg. "What a fabulous idea! Nothing is more romantic than sweating it out with the girl of your dreams—"

Sasuke punts the fucker.

...

On his way home, Sasuke feels like he's dug himself into a hole he'll struggle to get out of.

Now he has to figure out how to make the great act of working out romantic.

Joy.

Upon coming across Kakashi's place, he pulls out his key, unlocks the door, and peels off his sandals. That fearful look in her eyes flashes through his mind every now and then, and his throat tightens up. That's another thing he's going to have to figure out. What caused her to have such an expression? Him, or something else?

Strangely, when he thinks about it, it just makes him more determined to win her over.

A pleasant feeling fills his chest as he steps into the living room, where he spots Kakashi waiting for him, a collection of books in his hands.

"Sai dropped these off for you."

"I have a few books."

Yesterday's conversation bounces through Sasuke's head, and that nice feeling in his chest melts away.

"I looked over a few," Kakashi continues. "I think there's a lot of stuff here that will help you with Hinata."

"Stop."

Sasuke escapes to the second floor, pauses before he reaches his room, grimaces, runs back down to snatch those books from Kakashi's hands, and carries them all up the staircase. In his room, he drops them on his bed, telling himself he doesn't need them, that he's just making sure Kakashi doesn't lose or damage one.

Needless to say, not even an hour later, Sasuke's sitting close to his window so that he can read in the day's glow.