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CHAPTER 2

It was the middle of the day, roughly. She could tell by the intensity of the heat and perceive the bright light. The plaza was busy as it always is, with merchants shouting out what they offer, claiming the best price and ideal freshness. Those claims were lies most of the times, she knew, as she could not be fooled by the vibrant colors or apparently ripe fruits and vegetables. Her acute sense of smell and soft sensitive hands could "see" through the visuals that so easily deceive the eyes.

The loudness of the Plaza was jarring to her poor ears, but as someone who lives alone, Hinata had no way to avoid the weekly visits, as her preference for organic foods prevent her from grocery shopping any less often.

The shades she wore to hide her white unseeing eyes made her condition even more obvious, so strangers would often offer her help moving around in crowded places like those, but not today. Perhaps her new sunglasses are too stylish and look like more of a fashion choice than a need, or maybe the sun is so bright that she isn't the only one shading her eyes.

Whatever it may be, today she is left alone to wonder around, without her stick and no dog to guide her around. She knows the way by heart, but unexpected obstacles don't make themselves wait. Sixteen small steps ago – yes, she counts – she tripped slightly on a cat that crossed her path, now, she runs into a chest.

"Fuck, sorry" the hard chest curses and apologizes with clear hurry, so she smiles her mute forgiveness and moves out of the man's way "Hanabi?" she hears the low voice speak a second time, a word she knows but never hears, posed as a confused question.

Strong hands grab the side of her face with no regard to her personal space. At this, she flinches away with not enough strength to free her head of his uncomfortable albeit harmless grasp.

Hinata feels the strange man's eyes analyze her, unnerving her. She then feels one of his hands release her only to yank away her shade. Her eyes open on instinct and a gut feeling tells her that their eyes have locked together. Well, instinct and the fact that he has her head held in place, inches away from his own, she could hardly be looking off into the wrong direction.

The connection lasts only seconds before he lets go as if burned by the flushed skin of her cheeks.

"Sorry, you reminded me of somebody" he explains what she had already concluded, sounding far from apologetic. And even if his hands have left her, his body remains close and neither makes a move to take a step back.

As part of the Konoha Shinobi for 5 of his 24 years long life, Uchiha Sasuke knows many things. One of them is that trust is a precious thing not easily given. This short pale woman – beautiful if he could spare the thought – that so strongly resembles that annoying brat that is Hyuga Hiashi's only living child, is not someone he trusts.

But standing alone in the enemy's territory with no way to contact Konoha or even the certainty that he should, there is no one he trusts.

But the guard that shot out Ino is hot on his trail, the crowd can shield him only temporarily, but he can't run forever. With as few options as he has, this petite and blind – perhaps also mute – woman, appears the most harmless.

So, with his hearing tuned to the heavy rushing steps of the guard's combat boots, his face dives down.

His hair lacks any semblance of style, his clothing is generic. His handsome face is one of a kind.

And to hide his face, he dives down, joining their lips in a kiss.

Soft.

It was the only word that came to mind, as half his attention was directed to his persecutor passing behind him, when his full focus should have been there.

But the feel of the woman's full lips was distracting, even to him, who admits no distractions during his job. It was pleasing in a way he hadn't anticipated, just a means to an end he'd thought, but even after his persecutor had passed them and he was on the clear, he wasn't pulling away.

As for her, the sensation was more than unexpected, it was entirely new and as frightening as it was pleasurable, but the urge to pull away, to run and hide, stayed at bay in favor of other startling urges that surfaced.

Hinata knew love. She had loved in her youth - although it could be argued that 22 is still young - and was acquainted with the stomach butterflies. This feeling, however, was no butterfly, it was heat.

Something warm and insistent was pooling in the pit of her stomach, something she had read about in books she'd sheepishly lie about even knowing existed.

She has always been a shy little thing. Compliant and submissive, always so kind and generous. But it wasn't her submissiveness that kept her lips glued to those of a stranger, clumsily following his slow pace. No, is not that she didn't have the backbone to push him and say "no".

Is that she doesn't want to.