CHAPTER 5: Withering Lovers
Sarada glanced back over her shoulder and regarded him, her eyes wide and twinkling with an unconcealed excitement, "We will pick up a lot of peanuts!" Sarada was walking a few steps ahead of him, jumpy on her feet while sucking on her popsicle. The bustling street was a symphony of sounds, filled with the chatter of shoppers and children. Vibrant-colored dresses adorned by the ladies reminded Sasuke of the atrocious day a couple of days ago at a clothing store.
Sasuke continued to groan mentally at the picture of his existence rooted stiffly in a tiny suffocating room with his best friend's wife, barely dressed in front of him. Her skin, unmarred and white, tinted with blush that reached from her cheeks to her neck to her chest…Kami, Sasuke, stop! His inner voice reined in his baffling thoughts.
The warm sun warming his pale complexion dispelling the blood rushing to his face, he thought and reasoned with himself, rustling wind whipped through his hair which extended past his nape, I need a haircut before the lover's day event. The thought of that festivity alone made a cold dread slither through his nerves.
Sarada noticed the pinch of his eyebrows and frowned back, discarding the stick of popsicle and then putting her hands on her hip, a move she learned from Sakura, she huffed.
"What is it, Papa?"
"Nothing, I was just thinking," Sasuke replied, ruffling her hair. She tsked at him.
"You enjoy grocery shopping with me or not? If you don't, you can simply say it!" Sarada swatted his hand away from the crown of her head and retorted. His annoyance at the thought of a festival with crowds and unnecessary attention was dawned upon him, at the wrong time. He needed this father-daughter time more than Sarada.
Because he was the one who needed her.
Sarada had survived and lived without him, quite fine. He however hadn't ever truly lived.
So he confessed, "I enjoy every moment with you. It is lively for me." He managed a small smile.
"Then why did you look so…annoyed?"
"Because I thought of something annoying." Sasuke chuckled, leaning forward to take her palm into his, he continued his walk in the direction of the store.
"Papa, you are annoying!" Sarada grumbled but she let her father hold her.
Annoying. A word, a sentiment, a taunt — which he had used against everyone, even Sakura. A snicker escaped Sasuke's mouth at the realization that his past was coming back at him, slapping him in one way or another.
.
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Sasuke strolled down the aisle where peanuts were lined up with a variety of salted or roasted available, Sarada was skipping ahead of him while the cart groaned behind her with the weight of groceries. He kept on dragging the cart ahead, filled with all the necessities Sakura had asked him to buy. Potatoes, Rice, Flour, and many other things, Tomatoes, which Sakura didn't mention but Sasuke bought in bulk.
Sarada stood across a shelf, eyeing the variety which puzzled her. Her bottom lip jutted out, the crease on her forehead, fists clenched by her sides, eyes stern — A look that Sasuke had worn his entire childhood, especially when Itachi denied a training session or when his mother coddled him in front of his father and brother.
"Sarada, I am sure…all of them will taste the same." Leaning forward over the armrest of the cart, he spoke up, catching his daughter's attention.
"No!" She shook her head, rolling her eyes, "You don't know anything!" Blunt, his daughter was blunt. He wondered if Kakashi had a similar pang in his chest whenever a 12-year-old Sasuke rebuked him. "I will choose, you can go and pick the chocolates Mom asked for!" She gestured to the aisle which had a sign-post for the desserts.
Sasuke reclined against the cart briefly, stretching his back before straightening up, nodding at his daughter, he steered the cart around and entered the sweet-smelling aisle bustling with the activity of shoppers weaving in and out. His eyes glued on the items lying on his cart — I didn't pick the salt and pepper, he mused, his thoughts halted by the metallic clank of his cart bumping into another.
The wheels jolted, and the content inside the cart rattled as the cart wobbled; a bottle of juice teetered precariously before settling while a cylindrical-shaped box of his shaving cream tumbled out of the cart through the gaps with a dull thud, which pulled in his attention and didn't make him look up to the shopper he collided with.
He disentangled his cart as he pulled it back, the squeaking wheels protested as it was pulled apart. He bent down and retrieved his fallen item then casually tossed it back in his cart.
He finally looked up, and the air from his lungs was knocked out.
Lilac-tinted pale eyes which were shadowed with long fluttering eyelashes met his, flustered expression echoing on her blush-streaked face. The well-fitted dress billowed around her. An awkward pause followed, and for a moment, everything around them seemed to blur—the busy shoppers, the gentle hum of conversation, the clatter of wheels against the tiled floor.
He hadn't been meaning to face her, after that day, the act of his shameless gawking that day made him feel insecure about her perception of him. His throat tightened as he stood there, frozen, unsure of what to say or do.
Hinata's slender fingers tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear as she murmured a soft, almost inaudible apology, "Sorry, Uchiha-san." Her voice trembled slightly, and she pulled back her cart, retreating a step.
He swallowed hard, raking his hand through his hair, "It is fine. I wasn't looking ahead." His voice was strained.
A thick silence lingered between them, stretching the moment uncomfortably. Hinata averted her eyes, scanning the nearby shelves, though her gaze was unfocused, her mind elsewhere. Sasuke, however, couldn't tear his eyes away from her.
He noticed the subtle movements of her delicate fingers as they traced absently along a bottle of chocolate syrup, betraying her nervousness. She picked up a syrup bottle, then reached for a box of sprinkles, her hand faltering as she glanced up at the top shelf stacked with hazelnut chocolates—the same chocolates Sakura had mentioned wanting, Sasuke realized.
So he approached the same shelf and ended up towering behind her, a faint scent of Lavenders drifted between them. She was startled, his hand lifted and brushed against her fingers which were trying to latch on the box. He quickly plucked the box from its perch and, without a word, dropped it into her cart and then picked one for himself as well, leaving the intimate space of hers. She breathed deeply when he walked away.
Dropping the chocolates in his cart, he heard her meek voice, "Thank you, Uchiha-san."
He nodded, averting his gaze from hers.
Another pause. He hated the lingering tension crackling between them and the weight loaded in the space between them made him mentally groan and have an internal battle, and he had only his own unrestrained behavior at the dress shop to blame.
Should I apologize? He mused internally.
The bluntly honest voice inside of him sneered at him, what would you say? I am sorry, I had been a repressed prude for so long that the mere sight of the naked skin of a woman made my legs tied and frozen like a fool.
His thoughts disgusted him. The absurdity of it all repelled him from speaking, from drawing more attention to what had happened. He could almost feel his cheeks heating at the memory, the embarrassment curling into knots in his gut.
Two energetic and bouncy figures, one behind Hinata and one behind Sasuke, caught their attention, as their footsteps interrupted the heavy silence. Unveiling the drape of pause between them.
Himawari came rushing forward, clutching oversized bags of chips almost as tall as she was, her face lit with excitement. Her tiny arms struggled to hold the large bags as she approached her mother, her eyes bright and wide with joy.
"Mama! I got the chips!" she exclaimed triumphantly, holding up the bag like a prized treasure.
"Papa! I grabbed two packs!" Sarada's voice rang out as she hugged the peanut bags to her chest, darting toward Sasuke with a grin. She tossed the peanuts in the cart.
"Hima-chan!" Sarada's attention shifted from their cart to the brightly dressed, blue-eyed friend being held by the pale-eyed woman, whom he was the culprit of.
Himawari cheered, "Sarada-nee."
His muscles tensed instinctively. Sasuke thought to stay at a distance from the woman who could possibly be thinking of him as a pervert, he didn't want that added to his list of curses. What happened at the dress shop was his moment of weakness, and he had a guilt trip for two days straight where he reluctantly accepted Sakura's attempts for physical affection with open arms, even if they made him recoil. The roiling guilt turning his insides up and down made him not pull away, but at least Sakura was happy.
Sarada stood beside her and offered, "Hima, why don't you come to our home? Boruto is having his boy thing whatever with Mitsuki, Shikadai, and even Inojin."
Himawari gleamed, "Yes! You have board games…new ones. Ni-san told me about it."
Hinata held her daughter's shoulder and squeezed slightly, crouching down to her level, "Hima, I will drop you off there another day…when things are pre-planned, we can not just-"
Before she could finish, Sasuke cut in. His gaze flickered between Hinata and Sarada, the latter smiling eagerly at the idea of having her friend over. Sasuke didn't want to deny her that joy. "My daughter and I have no problem, so why are you thinking of these customary formalities."
Hinata stood from her crouch, facing him, her pale eyes soft but filled with hesitation. "But Uchiha-san—"
"Hyuga, we are going to walk home after the billing. You will come with us and drop Himawari," he announced to her, "or even stay…your choice," he finished. The offer of only dropping Himawari sounded rude in his head, Kakashi had told him to work on his emotional intelligence from time to time, even last night when they shared a drink, he was sober enough to berate him yet again for his lack of emotional comprehension. Ironic coming from him though.
Sarada, ever the opportunist, tugged gently at Hinata's dress, her wide eyes pleading. "Yes, please, Aunt Hinata," she said sweetly, her voice filled with hope. Himawari looked up at her mother, just as expectant, her small hands gripping the bag of chips she had picked out.
Hinata chewed her lower lip, her cheeks flushing a shade darker, the faint blush creeping across her porcelain skin. Sasuke couldn't help but wonder, Does she still blush so easily?
"Okay," Hinata murmured, her voice so quiet it was almost as if she were talking to herself rather than them. At her response, Himawari let out an excited squeal, her small hand smacking Sarada's in a celebratory high-five.
Hinata's gaze reluctantly lifted, meeting Sasuke's intense stare. She smiled, but it was small, timid—a smile that seemed to take effort, as though she were embarrassed by the situation.
Sasuke, on the other hand, couldn't fathom why she would be embarrassed. I'm the one who acted like a fool at the dress shop, he thought bitterly. His eyes flickered away from her in discomfort, breaking the tension of their shared gaze.
Without another word, he turned, gripping the cart's handle tightly and pushing it forward. The wheels squeaked slightly as he dragged it down the aisle, leaving behind the excited chatter of their children and a dazed Hinata. His footsteps echoed faintly, his mind weighed down by the lingering discomfort of their unresolved tension.
As he walked away towards the billing counter, the faint scent of her lavenders still clung to his cloak, draping him with her conscious presence.
.
.
Hinata's unsteady steps followed the imposing figure of Sasuke, her delicate fingers clinging tightly to Himawari's tiny hand, grounding herself through the innocent warmth of her daughter's touch. The bustling street buzzed with the hum of distant conversations and the light giggles of their two children, who skipped ahead, their laughter echoing between the buildings. Sarada and Himawari tore into the bag of chips with delight, their carefree joy spilling out as they spotted Boruto and his gang of friends—Mitsuki, Shikadai, and Inojin.
The boys waved but were quickly met with teasing taunts from the girls about dirt and sweat, sparking a playful banter that filled the air with a sense of youthful freedom. The children's easy camaraderie stood in stark contrast to the tense quiet between the adults trailing behind them. Sasuke was matching the pace of Hinata. Her shoulder brushed against his, and she was jolted. Gulping, she took a step to the right, bringing some space between them.
Hinata tried to divert her attention to anything and anyone except for the man walking beside her. Images of the encounter at the dress shop kept unfurling in her mind, inducing a tingling sensation of embarrassment along the length of her spine. A faint flush crept up on her skin, as the memories of the accidental intimacy flashed in front of her eyes.
The memory of the ex-avenger, her husband's best friend, seeing her almost naked and then witnessing her awkward yet heart-wrenching passive aggression towards Naruto, lingered in her thoughts. The surrounding cityscape seemed to blur as she grappled with these conflicting emotions, her gaze flickering between the ground and the passing faces in the crowd.
The last couple of days, she played with her mind thinking that she had forgotten the way her husband's best friend stood shell-shocked at the sight of her bare back and exposed legs, crimson burning on his pale cheeks, stuttering as he mentioned that he believed the room to be occupied by his wife.
But she hadn't forgotten that, and she knew she would never. Nothing dulled the mortification.
And now, here she was, walking alongside him again, under the same suffocating silence, the memory hanging between them like an unspoken truth. Sasuke, with his brooding presence and stern demeanor, seemed unaffected. His usual cold detachment wrapped around him like armor, impenetrable, as if nothing had happened.
His dark eyes were distant, his face a mask of indifference, his scarce words and yet, beneath that icy exterior, he exuded an aura of strength and secrecy that somehow made Hinata feel secure despite the awkward tension between them.
It seemed like he had forgotten about it.
Of course, he would. Why would he remember that, Hinata? A biting thought struck her like a slap, a taunt that laughed at her, your husband probably doesn't remember you or your body, so why would any stranger? The weight of that thought halted her in her tracks, her eyes lowered and her hand gripping the handle of her bag tightly, her knuckles paling with the force of the grip.
Sasuke's brittle but measured tone pierced through the silence, "Hyuga?" He had taken a step ahead, turning slightly to glance back at her, his sharp gaze catching the uncertainty in her posture.
Hinata blinked, shaking herself from the haze of doubt that had clouded her mind. She exhaled softly, her breath shaky, before managing a small, apologetic smile, "Ah, Sorry. I…I just remembered something." The waves of self-doubt crashed harder into the shores of her sanity.
Sasuke's expression remained unreadable, his jaw tightening slightly before he simply nodded and continued walking. He didn't press the matter, his silence a dismissal of the moment.
Hinata followed, thinking to rid her mind of those insecure thoughts. She believed that she should have apologized to Sasuke, but then she wondered if she was at fault or not, she was not. But a part of her, a sincerely embarrassed part of her was drowning in the depths of shame knowing that the man who had never liked girls flaunting around him, had to witness her in such an indecent state which he surely found distasteful.
Her thoughts ran wild, berating her for an act that was clearly not her mistake. Her mind churned, a relentless tide of shame and guilt pulling her under.
The rational part of her knew it wasn't her fault—he had walked into the room unannounced, hadn't he? But the lingering embarrassment, the deep-rooted insecurity, whispered that somehow she had still been at fault. He must think I'm shameless, she thought, her heart sinking at the imagined judgment in Sasuke's mind.
Wasn't that his mistake? He barged into the room, without thinking to know if Sakura was inside or not.
But he didn't apologize either.
So, does he think it's my fault? Her stomach churned with the absurdity of the thought, but it wouldn't leave her alone. It circled, gnawing at her confidence.
Oh Kami. Stop, Hinata, stop. Her self-criticism was relentless against the bursts of logic she had. A chorus of reproach was loud in her head, for an act that was not hers to bear.
"Uchiha-san," she managed to croak out, her voice barely audible over the bustling sounds of the street. Looking around, she realized they had already passed the familiar route to her house and were now standing near the Haruno Residence. Sasuke, who had effortlessly matched her pace, was now beside her, leaning in slightly with an arched eyebrow as he gazed at her intently. "I... I wanted to apologize."
"For?" He frowned.
She began, her fingers fidgeted nervously, her voice choked, "Uh…at the shop-"
"What did you do?" His gaze darkened, the sharp lines of his jaw clenching as he stared at her, clearly unwilling to entertain her apology.
Hinata shrugged, her gaze dropping to the ground again, "I don't know but I feel like I should-"
Sasuke cut her off, his eyes shifted ahead, and he continued to walk down the pathway that led to the door, "Don't apologize when you are not at fault." His airy voice tinged with amusement was loud enough for her.
As she hurried to keep up with him, her mind still buzzed with self-criticism, but something in Sasuke's indifferent yet oddly reassuring tone silenced the chaos.
.
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Hinata lingered behind Sasuke as he unlocked the door, pushing it open with deliberate force. Sarada darted inside, her excitement palpable, but Hinata hesitated on the porch, holding Himawari's small hand in hers like a lifeline. Sasuke glanced over his shoulder, his expression unreadable except for the faint pinch of impatience at the corner of his lips, while Hinata waited for a verbal invite.
"Hyuga," he muttered, his voice barely louder than the creak of the door.
Sasuke Uchiha had little patience for the trivialities of social niceties, Hinata mused. His indifference was so deeply woven into his personality that even the small courtesies seemed irrelevant to him.
To not annoy him more, Hinata considered his grunt as a sign of accepting her presence in his house.
Hinata gave a quick nod and nudged Himawari inside, following with hesitant steps as she closed the door behind her with a soft click while Sasuke had already disappeared inside his living room— something that Hyuga mannerisms never would have tolerated when a guest would come. The faint echo of her daughter's footsteps pattering across the wooden floor reached her ears, but she barely registered it. To her left, the living room stretched out in a familiar layout—a near mirror image of her own home, the Uzumaki residence.
A memory of Naruto's excitement of visiting properties and evaluating neighborhoods for Sakura flashed in her mind, the conclusion was that Naruto ended up choosing a house for Sakura in the same neighborhood as his and pretty much the same design as his as well. Sakura-chan, we need to live near so we can be there for each other. She remembered how elated her husband was when his best friend and teammate chose the house that he suggested.
Hinata stepped into the living room, her gaze landing on Sakura sprawled across the couch, Hokage robes draped over her like a makeshift blanket. Sarada knelt beside her mother, carefully dabbing at her forehead while Sasuke poured a glass of water for her from the side-table.
"Oi, Teme!" The voice that filled the room was unmistakable—her husband's brash, cheerful tone.
Hinata didn't have to turn to know who did it belong to. The weight in her heart pressed harder, and her chest tightened.
But she had to, so she did glance back at him.
Sasuke and Sakura both looked toward the archway where Naruto stood, dressed head-to-toe in his usual orange, a white apron hanging loosely over his frame. His eyes, still as bright as ever, darted toward Hinata, softening when they met hers.
"Hinata-chan," he greeted, his voice softer, more surprised though.
"Daddy!" Himawari shrieked with delight, running toward him. Naruto knelt, catching her effortlessly as she leaped into his arms, a wide grin spreading across his face as he kissed her forehead.
"What happened to Sakura?" Sasuke's voice broke through the tender moment, sharp and demanding.
Naruto held Himawari close as he answered, "She was at the tower, felt dizzy, almost threw up. I brought her back home. She's been pushing herself too hard."
He cast a concerned look at Sakura, who had discarded the Hokage robes and was now sitting upright on the sofa, her cheeks flushed from a coughing fit.
"I'm fine," Sakura retorted, her voice hoarse.
She tried to reach for the glass of water that Sasuke had set down, Naruto's hyper-awareness and senses almost made him rush to her to assist but Sasuke beat him to it, offering the glass again to his wife.
So her husband remained on his spot, rubbing the back of his neck and nuzzling his nose on Himawari's cheeks.
Hinata stood frozen, the feeling of not belonging in that space made her choke, and a sob tightened and restrained in her throat. Something seethed inside of her, clawing at the veins of her heart, trapping a new sensation of affliction in her chest, which throbbed, too painful.
Naruto laughed lightly, approaching the Uchiha couple. "I've been trying to make soup for her," he said, glancing at Sakura, before turning to Hinata with a grin. "But now that you're here, Hina-chan, you can help me—"
Hinata stiffened at her spot with a jerk of her body, unfrozen from the latches of icy pain slithering up her skin, recoiling with unease by the prospect, she held on to the strap of her bag tightly on the shoulder.
She wanted to flee, run away, vanish in the air, or even be devoured by the torment once for all — so all that anguish could finally end.
Her gaze lifted from the ground and found an onyx eye focused on her.
Sasuke shifted his gaze to Naruto, he groaned, "Stay away from my kitchen, we already have soup."
Before Naruto could protest while his face contorted with the bubbling need to strike back, Sakura gathered her breathing and shifted her body to hug her husband sitting beside her, "Sasuke-kun…" she murmured while burying herself in his neck.
Naruto turned around abruptly, putting Hima down on the ground, he walked up to the dining table just outside the living room and draped his apron on the back of the chair, a slight frown creasing his brow.
Hinata's eyes didn't need Byakugan. She was no longer blind.
Her eyes caught another anomaly, the twitch in the body of Sasuke as Sakura kept her tight hold on him. "I will get you your soup," Sasuke announced, pulling himself away from his wife, and standing up instantly, away from the intimate proximity.
"Hinata," Sakura regarded her. Looking sullen by the loss of her husband's heated presence.
Hinata's point about men being oblivious and incredibly stupid remained corrected. Especially Konoha's men, especially Shinobi men, especially the two Shinobi heroes. The strongest yet the dumbest.
Hinata ignored the roiling unease within her, she stepped closer to Sakura and offered a small smile, "Hello, Sakura-san. Hope you are feeling better now."
Sakura gestured to dismiss her concern, glancing at Naruto with a playful stern look, "I am fine, Naruto was being over-dramatic. I even went to the tower to ask him for a ramen trip."
Naruto beamed and approached her on the sofa, propping himself down beside her and leaning back, "You need to stop over-working yourself and take care of yourself, Sakura-chan." He put his hand on her shoulder, squeezing it, his way to impart concern and comfort.
Hinata was an audience to them. The kids were busy laying their board game on the table. To her left, beyond the table, the archway to the kitchen showed Sasuke re-heating some content on the stove. The conversation between Naruto and Sakura dissolved in the loud air that surrounded Hinata and banged on her existence, yelling at her, laughing at her, mocking her and even killing her.
Her gaze flickered to Sasuke, who was now busy in the kitchen, his single arm moving with precision as he poured soup into a bowl. His dark eyes flicked toward her briefly, acknowledging her silent presence with a look of quiet curiosity. It was as if he knew she had been watching him all along.
Sakura's voice managed to pull her attention back to the pair on the sofa. The pink-haired woman's tone was apologetic, soft but strained. "I'm sorry, Naruto. I know the meetings you postponed for me are important. I've worked under Tsunade-sama long enough to know they shouldn't be delayed…"
Naruto's hand enveloped Sakura's, his grip firm but comforting, and the furrow in his brow softened into that trademark smile—one that was both endearing and frustrating. "Sakura-chan, you were sick! I pushed the meetings to the night. I'll get everything done, no problem at all!"
Sakura exhaled a breath of relief, visibly relaxing into the cushions.
Hinata however had a rage coiling inside her, undetected on her impassive face. Hinata had discovered in the last decade that she was not innately an angry person, but once she was, her voice turned coarse and biting, "Boruto asked for a dinner tonight," she immediately cut off their affectionate banter.
Sasuke came to stand beside Hinata, glaring at Naruto for some unknown reasons. But frankly speaking, Hinata couldn't care less about what Sasuke was thinking at the moment, because the fire beneath the cold surface of Hinata was burning brighter than ever.
Disappointing Hinata was one thing, but messing up with Boruto was another cruel blow to the facade of their marriage.
Himawari dashed into the room, her small face scrunched with concern as she went to stand beside her father. Her hand rested on his knee as she pouted up at him, her voice a quiet protest. "Yeah, Dad! Mom and I did a lot of shopping for dinner."
A shadow of guilt colored Naruto's tanned face, "Oh…I…I forgot." His smile faltered.
Hinata muttered under her breath, seething with a subtle inhale, "Of course."
Naruto stood up from the sofa, taking Himawari's hand in his own. His daughter's usual brightness had dimmed, her enthusiasm drained. Hinata saw it—felt it—and the sight only stoked the fire within her.
"Hina-chan," Naruto began, his voice too light, too dismissive. "Can you explain it to Boruto—"
"No, you do it," Hinata had enough of it, "With your clone, I believe."
Naruto blinked at her, caught off guard by her sudden bite. He managed a weak smile, trying to brush it off as he nodded. "Okay, okay, I'll do it."
Hinata heard a wince from beside her, Sasuke face-palmed himself and shook his head while pinching the bridge of his nose. He chose to bring the soup bowl to Sakura, who kept the tray on her lap and sipped on the spoonful. However, Sasuke's acutely aware eyes were on Hinata and his best friend, while he sat beside his wife.
Hinata dryly confirmed, "So…you won't come?"
Naruto scratched the back of his head, clearly searching for an answer that wouldn't make things worse. "I can't. It is our weekly ANBU meeting, Shikamaru will kill me, you know how tough it gets-" His excuses got cut off when Hima pulled her hand from Naruto's grip harshly and ran towards Sarada. It was the first time that even Hima had chosen to exhibit disappointment.
The excuses spilled out of his mouth, but they barely registered with Hinata. They were the same tired justifications he always used. Even Himawari, normally so forgiving, tugged her hand free from her father's grip and ran to Sarada without a word. The look on her daughter's face—disappointment in its purest form—stung more than Hinata expected.
"Fine," Hinata muttered, barely containing her rising frustration.
Naruto reached for her arm, his touch gentle but unwelcome. What once felt like the warm, reassuring comfort of a winter sun now burned like a scalding brand on her skin. "We can do it tomorrow."
"No," Hinata replied curtly, her voice flat. "I have my own plans."
Naruto blinked, surprised by her tone. "Can we reschedule for—"
"No." Her eyes met his, pale and empty, searching for any sign of understanding in his ocean-blue gaze. But as usual, there was nothing. No recognition of how far they had drifted apart.
"Day after tomorrow, then?" Naruto pressed, trying to salvage the moment, his voice growing more uncertain.
Hinata chuckled, she wasn't sure why she did, but perhaps the tiresome back and forth humored her, "Lover's day festival." The thought that he didn't remember the festival which was especially for lovers where he should have been coming, hinted at the crumbling reality of Naruto and Hinata being the withering lovers.
Naruto's face twisted in confusion, the significance of the day clearly lost on him. He stammered, "A-After that?"
Hinata folded her arms across her chest, fighting the urge to unleash every bit of pent-up frustration that threatened to spill over. "Boruto will be on a mission."
Naruto sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, his signature move when he felt cornered. "He'll be back in a day, right? We can do dinner the next day, the whole weekend even!" He grinned as he straightened his shoulders, trying to lighten the mood, but the gesture felt empty.
Hinata bent down to pick up the grocery bag from the center table, her eyes downcast. "I doubt that."
Her words left Naruto standing there, mouth slightly open in surprise. Sasuke, sitting behind him on the sofa , let out a snort of laughter at Hinata's bluntness. Sakura shot him a disapproving look, but Sasuke ignored her, clearly amused by the situation.
Naruto's voice wavered. "Hina… I'm sorry—"
But Hinata wasn't listening anymore. She brushed past him, heading toward the dining table where she placed the bag down with more force than necessary. "I'll pick Hima up in an hour or two."
Naruto picked his robes from beside Sakura, draped himself with a Hokage cloak, and trailed behind his wife, Hinata could feel the presence which unsurprisingly yet again smelled of cherry blossoms, "I will drop Hima at home, Hinata-chan."
Hinata didn't turn around, "No. I will pick her up myself."
Naruto was persistent, though his desperation wasn't fueled by genuine remorse—just a need to make things right enough to continue ignoring the cracks in their relationship. "I can walk you home?"
Hinata whirled around, almost colliding with him before she took a step back. Her pale eyes, normally so soft and warm, were ablaze with unshed tears. "I'm not going home," she hissed, her voice trembling with restrained fury. "So thank you for the offer. Stay here. I'll go."
She turned on her heel, feeling the weight of years of resentment and disappointment finally reach its breaking point. She knew, like every other time, this would be forgotten—buried beneath layers of other unresolved issues. But at that moment, Hinata had no energy left to hide her anger. So, Hinata kept her anger at bay but unleashed her annoyance openly, uncaring that they had an audience of Sasuke and Sakura.
Naruto opened his mouth to protest, "Hinata—"
But Sasuke cut in, his voice as dry as ever. "Dobe, stop tormenting us all for another hour."
Naruto shot Sasuke a look, his frustration shifting into annoyance. "Shut up, Teme! This isn't just your house—it's Sakura-chan's too! I can stay here as long as I want, right, Sakura-chan?"
Sakura, too tired to fully engage, offered a weak smile. "Yes, yes. Just don't be too loud."
Sasuke gathered up the empty bowl from Sakura's lap, giving Naruto a pointed look. While walking towards the kitchen, Sasuke grumbled, "You're such an idiot."
With that, Naruto indulged himself in a verbal spar with Sasuke, forgetting that he was just trying to make up to his displeased wife. Hinata watched, numb to it all. It was as if her anger, her pain, didn't matter—faded into the background noise of their lives.
Somehow, the disappointment lingered deep within her yet again but as expected, no jolt of shock and surprise burned her anymore. It was all that Hinata could anticipate already.
She forced a small smile, waved halfheartedly at Sakura, and pressed a gentle kiss to Himawari's cheek before slipping out the door, leaving behind the weight of everything unsaid.
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The little bell above the door chimed softly as Hinata stepped into the flower shop, the faint jingle a welcome sound to her ears. The smell of fresh blooms wrapped around her immediately—a sweet, earthy fragrance that filled the small shop, easing some of the tension that she had been carrying for so long. Hinata paused for a moment just inside the door, letting her eyes wander over the neatly arranged flowers that stood in vibrant bouquets and single stems in vases.
The gorgeous, purple-clad blonde woman was tending to the customer, packing the flowers with little ribbon bows on the bouquets. Hinata waited for the customer to leave, so she could greet her friend. While waiting, she turned to admire the flora sprawled in front of her, with each flower telling a distinct story. The warm air outside with popping colors on trees hinted at more blossoming flowers soon when the spring would peak.
She moved toward a row of hydrangeas, their round clusters of blue and lavender catching her attention. Her fingers hovered over the petals, not touching, just admiring the softness of their form. For a moment, the world outside seemed to disappear, leaving her alone with the flowers and their quiet beauty. The tormenting reality beyond the flowers seemed to vanish. Her heart felt light, she felt at peace, for a moment.
As her fingers brushed over the velvet petals of a nearby bouquet of lavender, she found a brief respite in their delicate beauty, her mind quieting from the storm she kept hidden. "Hinata!" Ino's upbeat voice pulled her out of her reverie.
Ino was behind the counter, leaning forward with her arms wide in a welcoming embrace. Hinata approached, her heart warming at the sight of her old friend.
"Ino-chan, how are you?" Hinata smiled softly as Ino reached over the counter to engulf her in a quick hug.
"Good! Busy, but good." Ino grinned, pulling away to scribble something in her notebook, her eyes still gleaming with curiosity. "And you?"
Hinata smiled, "Fine."
Ino's eyes lifted, and a spark of curiosity lingered there, "So…what are you here for?"
Hinata's gaze flickered back to the array of flowers, eyes landing on a cluster of pristine white chrysanthemums. Their stark white petals reminded her why she had come, and she gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, her voice barely above a whisper. "White chrysanthemums."
Ino's eyes softened. "Visiting Neji?" she asked gently, propping her elbow on the counter and resting her chin in her hand.
Hinata nodded, the familiar ache swelling in her chest. "Yes."
Ino reached out, patting Hinata's arm. "You look troubled."
A practiced smile spread across Hinata's lips, though it didn't reach her eyes. "It's just one of those days."
Ino, always blunt yet caring, straightened her posture and raised an eyebrow. "Trouble with Naruto?"
Hinata's eyes widened in surprise, caught completely off guard. "Huh?"
"I mean…" Ino's voice softened, yet her gaze remained sharp. "Hinata, I have eyes. I've noticed things for years."
Hinata's heart pounded in her chest, the weight of unspoken words pressing against her throat. She had never allowed herself to voice these feelings, to admit the cracks in her marriage—not even to herself. She didn't want anyone to see Naruto in a negative light. "Ino-chan, it's not like—"
"He is a good human being, a compassionate Hokage, very strong…but does he make you happy?" Ino rounded the counter, she continued to talk as she picked up flowers for Hinata.
Hinata had been tired, she had been beaten down, she had felt inadequate, so she confessed even though the words felt foreign on her tongue, "Happy? He once did." Her resolve faltered.
Ino glanced back at her, grabbing a basket and beginning to collect the chrysanthemums. "Marriages have tough phases. Communication helps."
Hinata let out a bitter chuckle, her fingers trembling as she reached for a nearby petal. "A rough patch shouldn't last almost a decade, should it?"
Ino froze, wide-eyed. "A decade?"
Hinata felt the cool edge of the counter press into her back as she leaned against it, her body sagging with the weight of her admission. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. "He doesn't realize when he hurts me. And even when he does… he doesn't see how deeply. I've thought about confronting him, but I'm scared. If I do… there might be nothing left. And our children will suffer…"
Ino composed herself, bringing the flowers to the counter where she continued to pack them, "He once said to us while he was drunk that you have taken a distance." Her voice was solemn.
Hinata's voice wavered, "Distance…yes, I took distance." Hinata bit on her lip, "Funny how he told you all but never confronted me. Because I think…deep down even he knows that once we actually communicate…we will have nothing left."
Ino finished packing the flowers, her movements slower, more thoughtful. She handed the bouquet to Hinata with a look of compassion. "You were so head over heels for him."
Hinata lowered her gaze to the flowers in her hands, their delicate petals quivering slightly from the movement. "Do you blame me… for pulling away?"
Ino shook her head firmly and squeezed Hinata's arm gently. "Of course not. I don't know everything you've been through, so I won't judge. I'm just… curious."
Hinata took a shaky breath, her voice barely above a whisper. "Love is like flowers, Ino-chan. It needs time to bloom, it needs care… more than just sex and marriage. My love for him started to wilt long ago, and… one of the biggest reasons is something I need him to realize on his own and face."
Ino hesitated, her brows furrowing. "But what if he doesn't?"
Hinata exhaled, the weight of years of pain and exhaustion pouring out in that single breath. "I don't know. I'm tired, Ino-chan. I've tried distance, reality checks… I've even tried taunts." She forced a humorless smile, her fingers tightening around the strap of her bag. "But nothing works."
Ino watched as Hinata turned toward the door, her heart heavy. "You know you can always talk to me, right?"
Hinata glanced back, her lips curving into a soft, grateful smile. "I know." She paused, her voice quiet but steady. "Thank you, Ino."
With that, she exited the shop, leaving Ino in a surprised state.
As much as people thought of Ino as a gossiping link, Hinata knew her confession was safe with her. Ino and Hinata had grown incredibly close since Inojin and Himawari were born around the same time. Ino had unknowingly healed her during that time with her compassion because her marriage started to fall from the time she had Himawari in her. It was Ino who understood that Hinata's constant crying was not simply because she was a pregnant moody lady, Ino made her feel human when Hinata felt like she was nothing.
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Hinata chose to visit Neji's grave in Konoha's cemetery, not the actual one at Hyuga compound. Her state wouldn't allow her to face Hanabi, her father or even clan members.
Even though it was just a stone, her brother was not buried in Konoha's cemetery, Hinata felt that his spirit could be there wherever she would visit.
Her fingers tightened around the bundle of white chrysanthemums in her arms, their delicate petals trembling with each breath of wind. The gentle rustling of leaves and the distant chirping of birds provided a peaceful backdrop, but the calm did little to soothe the ache in her chest.
The air was cool and still, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows over the carved stone. Neji's grave stood under the shade of a large tree, the stone carved with care, his name etched in elegant strokes. The surrounding area was serene, and in the distance, the river could be heard, trickling softly over the rocks. She always thought this spot suited him—dignified and peaceful, a place that held quiet strength.
All the Konoha heroes were either buried there or had their gravestones as a sign of remembrance — yet Hinata's brother remained on the spot which was beyond beautiful. Hinata knelt before the gravestone, her fingers brushing the cold stone lightly. She closed her eyes for a brief moment, letting the memories flood her mind. "I brought you these," she whispered, holding up the white chrysanthemums.
"I wish you were still here," Hinata murmured, her voice barely louder than the rustling leaves. "You would have known what to do… You always knew."
Tears gathered in her eyes but did not fall, as she forced herself to speak through the tightness in her throat. "I thought I was strong enough to keep holding on, to keep trying… but I don't know anymore. I feel like I've been drowning for so long. It feels like no matter how hard I try, nothing ever changes." The growing distance between her and Naruto gnawed at her, an aching wound that refused to heal. Neji would have understood. He would have seen through her mask, just as he always had.
"Perhaps, you shouldn't have sacrificed yourself for us. I should have died…then and only then my love could have remained untouched, my love burns me now. I hate it." Hinata's gaze drifted to the sky, watching as the clouds slowly moved, indifferent to the pain and turmoil in her heart.
She closed her eyes, letting the silence envelop her. The world around her seemed to fade, leaving only her voice and the quiet presence of Neji's memory. The ache in her chest grew sharper as her thoughts swirled, filled with regret, frustration, and the unbearable loneliness that had settled deep within her heart.
Her voice was breaking, but she held her emotions back and shared, "Naruto… He doesn't see it. He doesn't realize the hurt he's caused. I don't even know how to tell him anymore. I am sure he thinks that it is because of my distance from him. But it is his fault, Neji-nii-san. Until last year, I hoped to make him realize that he needed to work harder for our marriage, he needed to truly love me…but now…now I just want him to face me and accept that he messed up, that he broke us, whatever us that was there, to begin with. I want him to realize that it was his fault."
A single tear slipped down her cheek, unnoticed as it fell into the earth. She exhaled shakily, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, feeling as if the weight of her unspoken thoughts was now shared, if only with the one who could never speak back. "I won't be able to pretend anymore, Nii-san. I feel like I'm breaking something between us that can't be fixed. But he never wanted to fix anything either, he ran away from our struggles, he never came to me and dared to ask me the cause of our distance…because even he knows, deep down, that he himself was the cause."
Her breath caught in her throat as she continued. "But the children… I don't want them to suffer. I don't want them to see this distance between us, this silence. I'm so tired of pretending everything is okay."
Her tears kept streaming down her face, her posture hunched over the stone, her breathing was labored, "I loved him. Blindingly, devotedly, truly. Why couldn't he? What did I lack? Was I not worth it?"
For a long moment, she stayed there in silence, the only sound was the soft whisper of the wind through the trees and her sniffing. Then, gathering herself, she rose to her feet, her fingers brushing over the smooth surface of the gravestone once more. "I will visit again. I don't know if my marriage will survive till then or not. One of my biggest regrets about our failing marriage is that…you died for us, for this. I am sorry. I wish I could change that"
Hinata turned and walked away, her footsteps soft as she left the cemetery, the burden she carried just a little lighter. All those years, Hinata had felt that there was no purpose in telling anyone about what was burning inside her, happening with her…but that day, putting her frustration on display despite the presence of Sakura and Sasuke, confessing her turmoil in front of Ino and weeping at the grave of Neji-nii-san had given Hinata a sense of freedom, that she never tasted before.
For the first time in a long time, instead of wishing for less pain, she hoped for happiness. Instead of feeling like a foolish woman, she acknowledged herself as the one who simply loved truly.
While she was passing by lanes and walking down the streets to pick up Himawari from Sasuke's home, her mind wandered and she wondered if there was a part of Naruto that also yearned for her the way she was desperate for him or if he was ever restless about her absence as she was about his.
Hinata wanted to know if she had meant anything to Naruto, if she was something worthy for him, and if he was ever hurt the same way as Hinata was due to their wretched fate.
Hinata's eyes felt heavy with unshed tears yet again because she was aware of the answer.
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Sasuke stood in silence, his dark gaze fixed on Boruto, who stood just a few paces away, struggling with the small ball of swirling chakra in his palm. The wind ruffled through the trees, rustling the leaves as if nature itself held its breath. Sasuke's expression was stoic, but his words carried the weight of critique.
"That's barely a Rasengan," he muttered, his voice low and unimpressed.
Boruto's face twisted in frustration. His brows furrowed as he clenched his teeth, glancing down at the incomplete jutsu in his hand. Without another word, he hurled the unstable Rasengan toward the nearest tree. The wind chakra fizzled out mid-air, vanishing before it hit its mark. But the force behind it was unmistakable—the impact left a jagged crater in the tree's bark, a sign of raw potential masked by his frustration, which only Sasuke's eyes noticed as Sarada was busy scowling at Sasuke and Boruto seethed.
Boruto, brooding, turned his back and stormed off into the thicker part of the forest, his figure disappearing among the trees. Sasuke's sharp eyes lingered on the crater, the faintest flicker of recognition crossing his features. Boruto's technique was still rough, and incomplete, but the raw power behind it shouldn't have been dismissed.
Sarada, standing beside her father, looked up at him with an irritated pout. Her crimson Sharingan eyes flickered, catching the remnants of Boruto's vanishing jutsu. "Papa, you could've been less harsh! It's amazing he even got that far," she scolded, her voice tinged with the protective loyalty she held for her friend.
"You both misunderstood me," Sasuke replied quietly, his voice carrying the subtle weight of revelation. "I was going to tell him that he's ready… to be my student."
Sarada's eyes widened, her pout instantly replaced by a beaming smile. She gasped, excitement lighting up her face like a spark in the dark. "Really?!" Her voice rose with a mixture of disbelief and joy.
Before Sasuke could answer, Sarada was already darting into the forest, her footsteps light as she followed the path Boruto had taken moments ago. "Wait here! I'll bring him back," she shouted over her shoulder, her words echoing through the woods as she disappeared between the towering trees.
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Boruto and Sarada chuckled as they approached the Uzumaki residence, their footsteps light against the night quiet. Boruto's arm draped casually over Sarada's shoulders, and every teasing comment he made earned him a playful shove. Sasuke, walking a few steps behind, felt a rare warmth bloom in his chest at the sight. His best friend's son and his daughter had formed a bond he couldn't help but appreciate.
"Ugh, Dad bailed on dinner again," Boruto groaned, his tone half-joking but laced with disappointment. "I'm not even hungry anymore."
Sarada rolled her eyes and gave him a light smack on the back of the head. "Baka Boruto, just eat the food. You don't need a five-course meal every day, you know."
As they reached the porch, Sarada rapped on the door with a polite knock. Sasuke, watching the scene unfold, didn't miss the quiet sadness beneath Boruto's words, a melancholy that settled all too often in the boy's voice these days.
The door swung open, revealing Himawari, her bright face lighting up instantly. "Nii-san!" She grabbed Boruto's wrist, pulling him inside with a burst of energy. "My toy broke! Can you help me?"
Boruto's laziness vanished, ruffling her hair. "Sure, Hima-chan. Let's head upstairs, Sarada."
The two kicked off their shoes quickly and darted into the hallway, their youthful energy filling the space. They passed through the dining room, grabbing apples from a basket. Boruto stuffed one in his pocket and reached for another, but his hand was stopped by a light smack from Hinata.
"Boruto! It's dinner time. You'll eat with us first," Hinata's voice was gentle but firm.
"But, Mom—" Boruto began to protest.
"No excuses," Hinata shook her head, her expression soft but resolute. There was no anger in her eyes, just a quiet authority that both Boruto and Himawari couldn't argue with.
Sasuke, standing at the door, exchanged a glance with Hinata. Her lilac eyes flickered with warmth as she addressed him directly, with a courtesy nod.
"Hi, Sarada," she greeted, her smile directed at his daughter.
"Hi, Aunt Hinata." Sarada waved at her.
"Have a seat, both of you. We are just going to have dinner." Hinata offered.
Sasuke intended to not spend a lot of time with the woman who had made him feel guilty after apologizing for the fiasco that he was responsible for in the dress shop, so he added, "It is fine, we were just here to drop Boruto. You house was on the way-"
She kept her eyes locked on his, a small smile played on her lips, "Please have dinner with us," she twisted her hand to the back, untied the apron, and pulled it off of her, "It is no bother."
Sarada tugged on his cloak, wiggling her eyebrows, clearly enthusiastic to spend time with her friends, "Papa, let's stay! Mom is on duty anyway."
Boruto leaned back on the wall, he nudged Sarada with an annoyed look, "Yes, let's eat something that is not a burger…yet again."
Hinata let out a snort, "It is a curry day, Boruto. Don't be dramatic."
"We will leave, Hyuga." Sasuke announced, "Come on, Sarada."
Hinata's persuaded, "I am not a bad cook, Uchiha-san." His first meeting with her in the orphanage flashed in his mind when he attempted to make a joke on her cooking being the reason for Naruto's absence.
Sasuke understood what she intended to do, prove his joke wrong, but he did not want to play the game, "I am sure you are not-" his voice trailing off.
Hinata cut him off, "Then stay." The little Hyuga kitten had claws in front of her husband and had guts in front of a Uchiha. Sasuke's face involuntarily lit up with a slight smirk dancing on the corner of his lips.
Sasuke offered her no counter, she nodded at herself with a small win and went back to the kitchen. Ah, this woman is kind of crazy. He thought. But he didn't mind it particularly.
"Mom, Sasuke decided to have me as a student." Boruto hollered.
"Congratulations! Now, start calling him sensei." Hinata's voice echoed off the walls, from her kitchen.
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The table laid down in front of him smelled tasty. Ever since he had returned to Konoha, almost a month, he had been fed Ramen continuously. Fluffy white rice steamed from a ceramic bowl, and the rich, inviting aroma of red tomato curry wafted up from a large dish, alongside stir-fried vegetables glistening in the soft glow of the dining room. Sasuke, now with a newfound appreciation for food after years of rough travels and bland meals, felt a stir of anticipation.
It wasn't just the food itself—it was the sheer contrast to the harsh, uninviting meals he'd once endured. There was something about a well-prepared, simple meal that tugged at a person's soul, and Sasuke, though he rarely admitted it, had grown fond of these moments.
"What is this, Mom?" Boruto tilted his head up as she served the plates of Sarada and Sasuke with generous portions.
"It is tomato curry…it has potatoes, so you will love it." She pinched her son's cheek and settled down on her seat.
Tomato. She said. Sasuke's attention zeroed in on the dish. The thick, vibrant red curry had a tangy fragrance, a medley of spices that promised heat but balanced with the sweetness of the tomatoes.
Everyone dug in, Sarada and Boruto engaged in occasional banter, while Himawari was sharing about her toys to her mother. But Sasuke quietly devoured his portion in silence, it had such a different taste, something familiar but he couldn't put a finger on it.
And she was right.
She wasn't a bad cook.
In fact, she was a good cook.
She was a really good cook. Far better than he had expected.
Something about a Hyuga-hime (Princess) knowing how to cook sounded like a conflicting matter, but she for sure was blessed by taste Gods.
Sasuke had enough of traditions and courtesy, so he got himself another serving, loading up more curry than necessary. He didn't look up from his plate but could sense the faintest snicker from Hinata across the table, but he ignored it, unwilling to let his pride ruin his enjoyment of the meal. Instead, he indulged.
"Mom, it's spicy!" Himawari's voice broke through, her small face flushed as she reached for her water.
"Here, sweetie," Hinata responded, bringing the glass to her daughter's lips with the grace of a practiced mother.
Sasuke, between bites, made a rare comment. "It tastes different… but familiar."
Hinata wiped off the mouth of Himawari, putting a napkin down at the table, and she spoke up, "Gaara-sama sent us Suna's spices as a gift, perhaps you must have eaten food with those during your visits to Suna."
"Hn." He nodded, "Suna tends to have spicier food." Made sense why that tasted similar. Suna's food did have a distinct kick, but this… this was something else. Something more balanced, more refined. Yet, nothing he had tasted in Suna came close to this level of flavor. He hesitated to admit it aloud, but Hinata's version was superior.
Hinata gulped down a spoonful of her bite and regarded him again, "But I heard their chocolates are even better. They have a very old but highly renowned store for desserts which sources cocoa from different countries."
The morning at the superstore played in his mind when he saw her buying loads of sweet crap off the shelves, she has a sweet tooth and disgusted by the taste of sweetness lingering on his tongue just by the thought, Sasuke shoved another delightful bite of the curry into his mouth.
Sasuke stated, "Satou no Sakyuu…that is the store's name." He knew the store, Kankuro and Temari were tasked to show him around Suna during his early days, they spoke highly of the rich history of the store which started from a cart and ended up becoming one of the most luxurious experiences for sweet lovers. Highly expensive, but affordable for a Hyuga-hime (princess) to buy for sure.
"Oh, have you eaten it?" Hinata's eyes lit up, the lilac gleam in them brighter than usual.
Sasuke groaned, "No, I hate sweets." Her mouth turned into an O shaped. Her exaggerated gasp made his eyebrow twitch, but there was a small flicker of amusement in her reaction. I didn't sin by not liking sweets.
Sarada, not missing a beat, chimed in from beside him. "He likes tomatoes only! That is why he is eating so much right now." Obviously, his daughter was a menace, after all, she was his daughter, she exposed her father with no mercy. Sasuke threw an exasperated glance at his daughter who royally ignored him with a chuckle.
Hinata's gaze drifted toward Sasuke's plate, which was nearly empty for the third time. "I hope I haven't disappointed you then," she said, a playful lilt in her voice.
Sasuke refused to give her the satisfaction of a real compliment, so he merely shrugged, leaning back in his chair as he drained his glass of water. "It's… satisfactory," he muttered.
Unexpectedly, laughter burst from Hinata. It wasn't just a quiet chuckle—it was a full, melodic laugh that filled the room. Her shoulders shook with mirth, and her pale, moonlit eyes crinkled at the corners. The sound was like a wind chime, light and airy, bringing a brightness that seemed to warm the entire space. Her midnight hair fell around her face as she ran a hand through it, her cheeks flushed pink from amusement.
Sasuke froze, the sound of her laughter doing something to him that he couldn't quite explain. It wasn't just pleasant—it was captivating. Her entire being seemed to shimmer, like the soft glow of the moon in a dark night sky, casting a light that drew him in despite himself.
And Sasuke's mouth ran dry, despite the glasses of water he chugged.
Hinata's laughter tapered into quiet giggles, and with playful teasing lingering in her words, she glanced at him again. "Satisfactory? Good to know, Uchiha-san," she said, A silent but wide smile budded on her lips as she mocked him in her own playful, respectful, Hime-like way (Princess-like way).
Sasuke inhaled deeply, struggling to regain his composure, though his mind continued to spin, searching for some breaths, for he was out of them all of a sudden. Speechless, breathless, and utterly bewildered, by her. By her unrestrained laugh.
Sasuke needed to shake that sensation out of his existence, as quickly as possible.
Her existence was a challenge, a mystery…which he wanted to unravel, especially after witnessing her with Naruto in a completely different manner than the one who gleamed in front of him. She was an anomaly, a conflict, a puzzle— which made her stand out, even if she was habitual of hiding herself.
But his point stood corrected— Sasuke needed to get that unknown and unbidden sensations out of his system…at priority.
Thank you for reading, hoping to receive your reviews.