FIRST ARC - CHAPTER 10: PRINCESS HER FRIEND
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Hinata's boots scuffed over the uneven ground, her breath shallow as she steadied the unconscious weight of her friend slumped against her shoulder. The thinning trees stretched their twisted branches toward the sky, casting long, wavering shadows over the rocky path. Her daughter skipped ahead, with beaming eyes as they neared the destination. Her walk was occasionally drawn to a halt, as she shifted on her spot to sling an arm of her friend around her shoulders, her considerably feeble frame was carrying an unconscious Uchiha. Her waning chakra offered her another wave of exhaustion. Her posture was hunched by the weight of a tall man leaning on her.
She didn't mind.
But…it was mildly annoying how he had passed out after mocking calling her a princess and regarding himself as a guard.
Each step forward demanded her focus, her tired limbs aching with the strain of his weight. She caught herself from tripping over a hidden root, muttering under her breath, "Some guard you turned out to be, Uchiha-san." She huffed, barely resisting the temptation to give him a shake to wake him from his inconvenient nap.
But Sasuke's face remained peaceful, his lips set in a firm line, faint bruises and scratches catching the flickers of sunlight through the sparse branches. His usually sharp eyes were closed, his dark lashes resting on his cheeks, and his hair ruffled from the earlier skirmish, moved slightly by the cool evening breeze.
His heavily muscled body pressed onto hers, making her almost trip from time to time. Her arm stretched to its limit, and tightened around his middle, feeling the solid weight of him pressing against her. For a lean man, he carried surprising heft, his muscles heavy with exhaustion, and despite her fatigue, she pressed on, her body nearly buckling under the combined weight of herself, her pack and her friend.
She quickened her steps despite the aching in her muscles, she moved as each step ahead was laden with chakra pooling under her feet. She heaved a sigh as she reached her destination, her spirits lifted.
A large cottage was in front of her, under the dipping sun's dark shadows cast on its wooden surface. A plume of smoke curled lazily from its chimney, drawing out a weary smile as the thought of warm food ignited suppressed hunger in her stomach, causing it to growl.
Her steps quickened as she approached the door, the aroma of simmering chicken broth drifting on the evening air.
Himawari, sensing her mother's approach, darted ahead and knocked on the worn wooden door. Moments later, it creaked open, revealing an elderly woman with weathered hands and soft eyes that lit up as they settled on Hinata. "Hinata-chan!" Mitsuri's voice cracked with joy, and her gaze dropped to meet Himawari's wide smile. "And who do we have here? Little Himawari!"
Hinata returned the woman's embrace with her free arm, barely catching her breath before Mitsuri's curious gaze shifted to the unconscious Sasuke. "Your friend, hm?" she asked, her voice laced with worry. "Bring him in, Hinata—he looks hurt."
Hinata entered the cottage with Himawari trailing behind, holding the thin and trembling hand of the woman. "Hinata, let's take him to your room!" Mitsuri called out.
"Yes… thank you." Hinata stifled a groan as she adjusted Sasuke's weight, guiding him through the narrow doorway and into the warmth of the cottage. The scent of broth and herbs filled the space, easing her tense shoulders slightly. She was careful as she moved them through the low-lit room, Sasuke's arm slipping slightly as they made their way past the crackling fireplace and toward the narrow hall leading to her room.
"Is Umemiya-san here?" Hinata asked, glancing over her shoulder as Mitsuri led Himawari to the faded couch by the fire.
"He is out to collect some vegetables from the nearby market," Mitsuri was patting the back of Himawari as she was drinking a glass of water, "He shouldn't have any problem with anyone who you trust." She passed a smile, "However…we don't have extra room."
"We will manage." Hinata swatted her hand in the air. "No need to worry, I will heal him and come back to sit with you."
Hinata hefted Sasuke one last time, guiding him through the bedroom door and finally easing him onto the bed. The relief of releasing his weight left her arms trembling, and she sighed heavily, brushing damp strands of hair from her face. She gazed down at him, noting the faint shadows under his eyes adding the only colour on his face aside from the pale pink lips parted open releasing warm breaths.
Her breathing calmed down as she fetched the scrolls from her pack and unfurled them with basic hand seals, revealing the variety of healing supplies.
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She drew in a breath as she centred herself, her gaze fixated on the sight of Sasuke stretched on the bed. Beads of sweat glistened on his brow, his face looked relaxed and unguarded which was a rare sight. His chest rose up and down with his uneven breathing. His shirt was tattered with blood and dirt.
She hesitated before nudging his body toward the middle of the bed, then settled beside him, her knees pressing into the mattress as she reached for the clasp of his cloak. Pushing down the flutter of nerves, her hand reached out to his collar, her fingers deftly unhooked his cloak and the fabric slipped away, baring his worn figure.
A warmth coursed through her veins, unknowingly. She felt inundated by the presence of Sasuke.
She almost staggered back and off the bed when unconsciously his muscle memory was awakened, making him catch her wrist. "Uchiha-san," she whispered, hoping for his subconscious to recognize her, his hand surged to grasp hers with force, imprinting a mark on her skin, branding her. She swallowed a gasp.
And she was recognized. For his hand slipped off her wrist and rested on his abdomen. The twitch in his jaw eased and the frown marring his forehead dissolved into faint lines, marking his skin.
Her fingers hovered near his neck before she hesitatingly began to unfasten his shirt, with each snap of the button, his skin became more visible—paler than his face, with hardened muscles and crimson marks of battles etched onto it.
The wound which she had healed in the cave darkened again, raw around its edges as her pulsating Byakugan caught the sight of internal bleeding.
Sliding closer, she leaned over him, her knees tucked against his side as she examined the wound more closely. She unbuttoned his shirt enough to see the full wound, but there were still some scratches and gashes around his abdomen as per her all-seeing eyes. Her hair spilled down, strands tickling his face as she peered closer. Sasuke groaned softly as her fingers pressed against his skin, channeling healing chakra into the torn flesh, knitting the edges back together. Her focus sharpened as she sensed the poison that had lingered, still fighting even as her chakra surrounded and neutralized it, pushing out each lingering trace.
She could feel his skin heating up under her touch with his thundering heartbeats, her Byakugan caught the palpitations of his heart and the rush of blood in his veins; his blazing agony tore her apart when his entire body trembled during her attempts at soothing the damage.
Gradually, her chakra spread, calming the nerves that had been damaged.
His heartbeats thrummed steadily once her healing hands sucked out and destroyed each ounce of poison cracking his bones and burning his nerves. Her targeted Chakra seeped into his skin, lulling the pain and numbing the scorching heat in his blood.
His breathing was now in muted gasps, and the squirming of his body relaxed with ragged hisses from his mouth. Her fingers traced the contours of his collarbones and the sternum, releasing the light pumps of Chakra to dissolve the faint bruises.
A figure known for his power splayed vulnerable in front of her with aches deeply seated in his muscles—her heart clenched at the sight, her eyes squinted with pain at the condition of his body which seemingly looked pale, clear and perfect, but the hidden scars, the faint ones and the aged ones, were speaking about the scuffles he had to deal all his life.
She paused her hands, suspended amidst the crackling air, the pendulous realization made her eyes widen at the overwhelming proximity which felt like an invasion of his privacy.
"I'm sorry, Uchiha-san," she murmured, lowering her head near his neck. Her fingers skimmed along his jaw, healing small cuts, her chakra dissipating the dried blood and bruises. Her fingertips glided downward, tracing his neck with a barely-there touch as her Byakugan picked up countless scars across his skin.
Her fingers slipped down from his jaw, sliding on the pulsing veins of his, her hand moving over him instinctively, compelled to erase each scar she could reach.
Her fingers traveled slowly, her chakra easing the smallest bruises and fading the marks as his skin quivered beneath her touch.
A flicker of movement snapped her attention. His eyes fluttered open, his jaw twitched and her breath hitched in her throat as her lilac eyes met the onyx and purple burst of insane power. Her hands stilled on his neck and collarbones, and his body's heat surged as he was roused.
His eyes smouldered with an unseen pull, a wave of her flames collided with his and caused the blood in her veins to turn into liquid heat. Her breath began to quicken, her heart thrashing on her chest with a resounding thud at the way she could taste his breath on her lips due to the mere inches difference between their faces.
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Sasuke blinked, his vision blurry but slowly clearing. His eyes flickered open and his vision mapped out the sketch of a woman hunched over him. The pale and blue of her existence cleared into his sight. Her soft tresses brushed against his cheek, carrying the scent of Lavender and Jasmine that almost lulled him back to sleep. Her Byakugan retreated, and her face blanched. She sputtered a few words that he couldn't register. Her frame bathed in the twinkling golden light overhead, red creeping on her cheeks.
She cleared her throat and was about to pull back abruptly, her fingers slipped from his neck and chest.
His own hand moved and lifted, with no control over his thoughts or movements, tucking the layers of her locks behind her ear, holding her jaw with his thumb caressing the softness of her cheek while his fingers swam under the thickness of her locks at the back of her head. She remained motionless, frozen as if she was unable to breathe.
Time stilled between them, his dazed eyes relished the sight of whatever was happening. She swallowed hard and glanced around, her gentle and barely audible gasps tickled his chin warmly. Her hand pressed onto his chest with a light quiver—cold palms, laced with remnants of her warm chakra, was a conflict.
Her impassive mask shattered as he drew her face closer to his, his body reacting on his own, his brain numb at the scene unfolding. Her cheeks warmed and turned red, his eyes scanned over every line and curve of her face, unable to find any imperfection which he for sure had on his own. Her body buckled under the pressure of his touch, he could feel her melting.
Her pale skin glistened. Her lilac eyes gleamed. Her lips trembled and soft sighs slipped past them.
Tense seconds ticked by, and simmering thick tensions curled at the bottom pit of his stomach. His eyes followed the clenching and pulling of his fingers in her hair and the grip of his palm on her jaw as if he were an observer of his unbidden actions. A heady sensation crept over him, fogging his mind, stiffening his body and exhilarating his heart.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, the blurred memories of awkward intimacy with other women fluttered by, but the way she gasped and looked pleadingly at him, squashed every picture forming in his mind.
"Uchiha-san," she squirmed under his hold.
Her breathy tone, her flushed face and her shaking body—Oh fuck, Sasuke. His composure slammed onto his crumbling brain, her whisper reverberating throughout his entire body, wildfires blooming in his wounded chest. He knew he was approaching his doom, voluntarily with every gesture and every touch.
Something inside of him snapped, blurring the lines, unbridling the flames.
Then, as if struck by his own inevitable ache, his hand abruptly slipped off her face and she almost shut her eyes with a hiss, then she stumbled back quickly, getting off the bed and standing a few steps away. He sat up straight on the bed, a groan escaped his mouth involuntarily as something pulled inside his chest like a barbed wire snagging his nerves.
"Ah, I have healed you," she began, pointing at his chest visible through his partially unbuttoned shirt. "The scar is stubborn, I am sure…Sakura-san can fade it, but the poison was foreign and it was—"
He cut her off, with a cough, "It is fine, I don't mind the scars."
She took a sharp intake of a breath, "C-Could you…get up …you have some wounds on your abdomen and lower back…"
"I don't feel much pain—"
She shook her head vehemently, "It is not about the pain, Uchiha-san. If there is any remnant of that poison, it can fester in your skin and cause long-term damage—"
He attempted to button his shirt, with one hand and failed due to a tingle of a tremble in his fingers, "Your chakra is already at its limit—"
"I am the medic here, I will decide—"
"I am the guard here—"
She snorted, almost raging at him with her pout and pinched eyebrows, "Guard?" she threw a questioning glance at his way, a mocking ringing in his ear. He had passed out on his Guard duty so she was right at being perturbed.
He scoffed as he planted his feet on the floor and got off the bed. His towering presence loomed over her and she scrambled a few steps back, holding the air hostage within her because she inhaled a sharp breath and forgot to breathe. Her eyes were lowered to the floor and her fists were clenched at her sides.
She blew out her faltering breath as she looked up at him, covering the space between them with her few steps and lifting her hands, she asked, "Can I…" her eyes drifted over his shirt.
She shrugged, "Take it off."
"Huh?" she squeaked. Her eyes widened.
The heat began to creep up his skin as he craned his neck upwards, grumbling, "Take off my shirt, Hyuga." It didn't come off right. His gaze was downcast in an abrupt motion, catching the flush on her skin, "Just do your medic thing, I am tired," he attempted to salvage.
She nodded, "Oh, I am sorry, Uchiha-san," her words hit the heated skin that she unravelled with each pop of the button, "It is because of me—"
"No." He bristled on the spot as she raised her hands, sliding the shirt off his shoulders and dropping it on the bed. His bare upper body inflamed under her arresting touch, trails of lava trailed wherever her palm moved and mapped out his body.
Her fingertips brushed over his bare skin, barely skimming the taut muscles that tensed beneath her chakra-laden touch as if they had forgotten the release of surrender.
He could feel her breathing, her chest rose and fell with much difficulty like his own as she managed to raise her voice, "I mean—"
He explained, "I am on a mission. It doesn't matter. Injuries are part of this life."
She released her breath almost imperceptibly, nodding as she leaned over to the side to pick up a jar of balm and a roll of bindings. Her other hand pressed onto his abs, her chakra flooded under her palm and flowed into his cuts, he could feel his skin stretching and knitting itself. His hand fisted at his side as she moved in closer.
The air around them felt charged up, hitting every inch of his bare skin and jolting him awake from the trance he was falling under minute by minute by her breath feathering over his skin.
She ducked her head, almost brushing against his chest as she inspected the ridges of his abs, healing the scarlet bruises with the light brush of her trace. "You're married to the best medic in this country, I never thought you'd have so many unhealed wounds," she hummed as she wound a large binding around his waist, her hands circling his frame as she covered his lower back.
Her front bumped against his chest as she attempted to apply her medicine and bindings thoroughly. He stared down at the woman who was engulfed by her duty with focused eyes and firm hands.
Her balm glided softly under the binding, a cooling sensation crawling over his skin, easing the knots under his skin, reducing the specks of bruises to glistening pale skin.
With every breath he took, brought in more of her thrilling and incredibly maddening scent. The flames surrounded them and he aimed to douse them, relieving him from the surge of unknown. But with the focused pressure of her soft thumbs stroking the knotted muscles on his lower back, her tracing fingers fanned those flames instead.
"I heal myself with my minimum medical knowledge, also I don't like when people touch me," he confessed. And then regretted when her hands abruptly slid away from her body and she promptly scrambled back with her eyes drooping and frown etched on her face.
"I am sorry—" she began, hurt fallen like a boulder on her features.
He groaned, "I didn't mean you. Like…It is fine, I allowed you and you are healing me and…" he sputtered, explaining and his chest tightened, whether due to his wound or something unknown, he was unaware.
"You can have your rest, I am outside…I didn't meet them and came straight to heal—" she cut herself off, she turned away, "Take care."
He grumbled a few curses at himself under his breath as she retreated, taking away the warmth of her touch, the calm of her scent and the softness of her chakra.
The flames remained fueled within him, wild thumping in his chest frenzied. He carded his hand through his hair, almost clutching it as he growled.
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"I am so happy you brought little Himawari with you this time!" Mitsuri spoke as she settled on the chair across Hinata who cradled Himawari on her lap. Hinata blinked, Mitsuri's words tugging her back to the present, where the warmth of the room and the clinking of dishware anchored her, almost making her forget the lingering heat coiled around her from her encounter with Sasuke.
Himawari spoke up, bouncing on her lap, almost taking her mind off the searing within her bones, "You are so nice, Obasan!"
Hinata let the chatter of Mitsuri and Himawari turn into a noiseless hum as her mind was scorched with the sensation of his dark eye boring into hers, his warm hand cradling her jaw, his fingers threading through her hair. His fingers curled around her layers with force, his thumb caressing her cheek with a slight brush of his callused pad.
His hot breath fanning on her face, his hand pulling her face closer to his with his eyes looking at her like that. That inexplicable darkening, that indescribable fog. He must have thought that I was Sakura. The thought burned her to the core, unbidden flashes of the past scalded her memory, making her wince.
She felt a hand atop her head and roused herself from the sinking realities, she angled up her face and met dark blue eyes, "Hinata, how is life? We have been missing you."
"Umemiya-san, I missed you both too," she hopped off her seat and offered a quick hug to the elderly man. "Life is good!" Her admission felt hollow to her ears.
"Let's begin the meal, then!" Umemiya's voice held a gentle command as he took his place next to Mitsuri, his hand tenderly brushing over Himawari's hair as she squirmed happily between the elderly couple.
"Uh…let me call—"
"Ah," Mitsuri cut in with a knowing smile, her gaze fixed past Hinata, her eyes alight with welcome, "Welcome, young man."
A low grunt served as his reply, and Hinata's heart leapt in recognition. She didn't need to turn around to know who had entered the room.
"Uncle Sasuke!" Himawari waved, "Are you well now?"
Sasuke dragged the seat next to Hinata and sat, "Yes, thanks to your mother." His slanted look at her made her cheeks warm, dissolving the sting of being mistaken for Sakura.
"Who is this man?" Umemiya spoke up, his words grounded. His eyes narrowed at the figure beside Hinata.
"Uh," Hinata began, breathing deeply to introduce the man, "Mitsuri-san, Umemiya-san…he is Uchiha Sasuke." She turned to Sasuke, "I already told you about them…"
Sasuke inclined his head, his lips parting as if to speak, but something held him back. A thoughtful silence settled over him, and he merely offered a quiet "Hn," his gaze moving from Hinata to the elderly couple across from him.
The tone in Umemiya's voice grew steely. "Uchiha?" he echoed, the name steeped in unmistakable distaste.
Sasuke leaned back, his dark eyes holding a cool defiance as he raked a hand through his hair. "Sasuke Uchiha," he confirmed, the strength in his voice not yielding an inch.
Hinata's laugh was thin, brittle as she interjected, "Uchiha-san is Naruto's best friend. He fought beside him in the war and… well, he's as vital to Konoha's peace as Naruto." She hoped her words would soften the tension.
But Umemiya's spoon scraped harshly against his plate. "I know all about the Uchiha."
Sasuke's gaze hardened. "I doubt that."
Mitsuri, sensing the rising friction, squeezed her husband's arm, a playful glimmer in her eyes. "Oh, Umemiya's only jealous because, back in the day, I had a bit of a soft spot for an Uchiha." Hinata's eyes widened, and she looked away, half in disbelief, half in amusement.
Sasuke's eyebrow quirked as he glanced at Mitsuri. "You were from Konoha?"
Mitsuri nodded, pouring a glass of sake and sliding it to Sasuke with a knowing smile. "I was. Left after the Nine-Tails' attack. I met Umemiya when I travelled to Amegakure. I heard about the massacre much later…"
A strange tension knotted between them as Sasuke stared at his plate. Hinata slid a bowl of rice and fish his way, her hand briefly touching his as she served him. "Thank you," he murmured, almost too quietly.
A lingering quiet draped itself over the room. The only sounds were the crackling from the fireplace, the soft scrape of utensils against plates, and Himawari's delighted giggles as she recounted stories from the Academy.
Hinata's gaze skittered away each time she felt Sasuke's eyes land on her, his face tense, his jaw clenched. His fingers spun his spoon absently, and she could tell he was barely tasting the bland food as he picked at it. Tomorrow, she decided silently, she'd find some tomatoes to prepare something he'd actually be able to eat.
The food lacked salt and spices, the sake was too sweet, and the fish wasn't covered with crisp glaze— all things which made Sasuke spin the spoon in his hand.
The elderly woman seemed intent on stirring up a lightheartedness that defied the shadows around them, to cut the silence. "So…" Mitsuri said, grinning, "I take it you also had your fair share of admirers, Sasuke?"
"Also?" Hinata raised an eyebrow, her cheeks warming slightly, her glance sliding to Sasuke.
Mitsuri nudged Umemiya with a laugh. "Oh, those Uchiha men were always the talk of the town back in the day."
Umemiya scoffed, glancing at Sasuke with a mixture of humour and disdain. "I never understood it."
"Tall, fair, and mysterious," Mitsuri commented, a mischievous smile tugging at her lips. Hinata covered a snort with her fist, feeling the weight of Sasuke's gaze, a wry smirk tugging at her mouth as his eyes lingered on her.
Hinata teased."He was… quite popular." She also wanted the conversation to shift and the mood to lighten.
Mitsuri chuckled, feeding another spoonful of rice to Himawari. "There's always something intriguing about dark eyes for everyone, I suppose." Hinata felt a shiver as she recalled those same dark eyes studying her, the heat of his gaze grazing her skin. She tucked the loose strand behind her ear, almost hit by the memory of his hand tucking her hair behind her ear, her heartbeat quickened at the flames of memory licking at her inside.
"Not for everyone," Sasuke began, his eyes trailing over the averted face of Hinata, "I remember one of the girls who followed a yellow-haired loser of the academy." Hinata's small smile dropped at the taunt on her.
Mitsuri let out a chuckle, "Really? Your Uchiha charms didn't work on her?" she questioned.
The heat flooded in her veins as her eyes finally darted at the man beside her, who already had his eyes on hers, with a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, the crinkling around his eyes signified the amusement he had at her expense, "I never tried."
"Where is she now?" Mitsuri's question echoed between them.
Sasuke turned away from her. A shudder ran in her bones, snapping her resolve when he pointed at her, "Right here in front of you." His finger gestured towards her, putting her on the spotlight.
Mitsuri shook her head with a wide smile. Hinata's eyes flashed, her mouth puckered into a pout and her eyebrows tilted up, "Good way to shift the conversation towards me, Uchiha-san."
"Mitsuri, let's finish up the dinner. I am sure Hinata-chan has to rest," Umemiya added, halting the conversation, "And our guest as well." His pointed look remained at Sasuke.
The dinner continued along, with a few stern glances shared between Umemiya and Sasuke, questions about Hinata's orphanage and Naruto from Mitsuri and Himawari's tales from her Academy learning about being a shinobi. Umemiya excused himself from the table as he retired to his room.
Hinata and Himawari cleared up the table while Mitsuri continued questioning about random things to Sasuke, looking clearly taken by the Uchiha. Hinata brought the filled water bottle from the kitchen and extended her hand to Himawari. The darkness encroached upon them, causing the moon to emerge and bathe the house with its silvery glint.
Hinata's eyes felt the weight of impending sleep and the constant yawning from Himawari washed away the barely there strength that she carried.
"Don't mind my husband, Sasuke-san," Mitsuri commented as she got off the couch, her back hunched and gait wobbly. "It is your other eye that unsettles him, his history with Amegakure was not good." Mitsuri passed a small smile at the understanding and acknowledging nod from Sasuke. She retreated to her room.
"I will sleep here," Sasuke announced.
"But—"
Sasuke's gaze hovered over Hinata's face, noticing the fallen expression contorting the sleepy eyes, "It is fine."
Himawari tugged on Hinata's hand with a whine, "I am scared, Mommy." Hinata crouched down to her level, running fingers along her daughter's hair and pressed a kiss on her forehead. "I feel…bad."
"What?" Hinata asked, worry rushing in her, unease unsettled her.
"I feel scared. Like when those bad men attacked us." Himawari's eyes pooled with tears and her lips quivered.
Hinata's Byakugan pulsated, she scanned the room, hoping to catch the culprit. The room was clear, and even the distance. Nothing pulsed. Nothing darker loomed ahead. Only the dull hush of the forest.
"Is she a sensory-type?" Sasuke asked, Hinata hadn't noticed that he had occupied a space behind her, on her blind spot.
"Yes," she replied, glancing back at him. "Maybe she's just remembering what happened in the forest…"
Himawari wriggled her hand out of hers and rushed to Sasuke, holding his hand with both of her hands and sniffled, "Uncle Sasuke, please sleep with…us! I will feel…safe."
Hinata reached out to her daughter, "Ah…Hima—"
Sasuke looked down, squeezing the hand of her daughter in reassurance, "I am here, just outside your room."
"No, in our room, please. The bed is big…" Himawari shook her head. Hinata chewed on her lip as she leapt forward to pry Hima's tight grip off Sasuke, Himawari trembled with a jolt, "Please don't leave my mommy alone," she implored with tears staining her cheeks.
"Hima, baby—"
Sasuke nodded, "Okay." Hinata looked up at him, the mask of impassivity still intact, his expressions were slack. Himawari wiped off her tears and galloped towards the room mumbling a soft thank you.
Hinata snagged his sleeve before he could brush past her, continuing along the way to the room. "Uchiha-san…"
"She's sensing something," he murmured, his tone low and certain. His single, dark eye met hers, a gentle yet firm hand settling on her shoulder. "Remember, we didn't see those saints with our eyes back there in the forest, either."
"Oh…" Hinata's voice fell to a murmur, the reassurance of his touch seeping into her skin. "I'm sorry. This visit seems to be causing you so much trouble…" she began, but he was already moving forward.
He spoke without looking back. "I'm not bothered." His voice softened as he unhooked his cloak, glancing over his shoulder. "And…I was just trying to keep Mitsuri-san entertained. For you."
Hinata's lips twitched, unable to hold back a smile. "You're not funny, though," she replied lightly.
He pushed open the bedroom door, his voice dry. "I know." She let out a soft snicker, about to respond when he suddenly stopped, his gaze turning serious.
"I am sorry if I crossed any limit," he apologized, his face blank.
The apology felt layered, as if it held meaning beyond their conversation about her old crush on Naruto. Hinata's exhaustion clouded her mind from delving further into his meaning, and instead, she brushed aside the sense of underlying tension.
With heavy and measured steps, both of them navigated inside the room, blaring reality of one bed stared back at them, "I never thought the mighty Uchiha would apologize to me." She stripped herself off of her jacket, sensing his lingering presence behind her.
He whispered, "I am a changed man." His hot breath on her nape prickled her.
She stirred, "Clearly."
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Sasuke stood at the window, gazing into the deep shadows stretching between the trees, moonlight spilling onto the vast field in soft, shimmering waves. The room behind him was filled with a serene silence, only disturbed by the soft shuffling of blankets and the gentle purr of sleepy breaths that echoed off the walls.
He swept a hand through his dark hair and leaned into the window frame, a low sigh escaping his lips. This journey was turning out to be stranger than he'd anticipated, unsettling him in ways he couldn't name.
He couldn't pinpoint whatever was bothering him, his grip on his control was loosening, his walls were crumbling with cracks and his heart was developing the tendency to beat louder and rumble in his chest. His thoughts twisted and tumbled.
Sagging slightly, he jammed a hand into his pocket, fingertips brushing against the familiar cold metal of his lighter. But with a child in the room, and the princess who clearly despised smoke, he left it where it was, pulling his hand free with a faint grunt of frustration.
Turning around, his gaze fell upon the figures occupying the bed; Himawari with her stuffed toy almost buried in the arms of Hinata. Hinata's body had curled on the bed, shuddering with the cool gust of wind whipping past the thin curtains. Sasuke moved instinctively, latching the window shut to block out the cutting wind that had invaded her sleep.
The moonlight reflecting through the panes of the window illuminated the room, the bed and the space for him on that bed, with people who were not his. He hesitated, circling the bed before finally lowering himself onto its edge, the mattress dipping under his weight. He lay back, the creak of wood under him soft but resonant in the stillness. His overbearing thoughts, unclear and tangled, knotted at the back of his head and pounded.
Nothing seemed right.
But everything felt perfect.
Bewilderment shone naked on his face.
A gasp echoed, which was not his. He twisted his neck to the side to see the partner of his mission, sleeping with her lips parted, her hair sticking to her face and her chest heaving up and down with steady breathing.
His eyes dipped lower, pulled by the silvery moonlight highlighting the hitched-up blouse and the pale skin of her waist caught his eyes, causing his mouth to run dry and his mind to turn to mush. His attention to detail was ravishing his brain, eating away his resolve and patience as his stare lingered on the delicate exposed curve.
Intensity growled at the back of his mind, all-encompassing truths of his life reeled through her mind but he was being consumed by the bewitchment. The unknown fears were ghosts around him, berating him for his devastating attention yet probing at his edges about the haze he reveled in.
Go to sleep, Sasuke. His sanity smacked at him, he let out an annoyed rasp as he grabbed the pillow from beneath his head and shoved it at his face, muffling the groans and hopefully the thoughts. His eyelids fluttered shut in a matter of minutes, but the sight of moonlit skin swam in his vision for a longer time, to his dismay.
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Hinata was awakened by the constant cawing of the crow perched outside the window on the drooping branch, her eyes flickered open and she let out a yawn. With each grumble, her body and mind awakened. She blinked, stretching, only to freeze as she turned. Her eyes dared to take in the sight while her mouth hung open as the sight jarred her—a pale face, turned towards her, belonging to a man who was not hers. A yelp almost tumbled out of her mouth but she swallowed the shock as the memory of last night resurfaced.
Her gaze trailed over his face as Sasuke slept like dead; no snores, barely breathing as his hardened chest rose so infinitesimally that it could be ignored if it hadn't been for the keen eyes of Hinata on the man. His dark hair, slicked back with sweat, revealed his entire face. The bright complexion of his face, unmarred by the floppy dark bangs, made him look young. It was as if the teenager from the war times hadn't grown up, and was stuck being the young boy.
The only difference was the faint lines around the corner of his eyes and in the middle of his forehead, the lines that she wanted to trace. What? She found herself fighting an urge to reach out, to trace the lines there, and shook her head, chastising herself for even thinking such a thing.
Her gaze dipped to her hand placed over the blanketed Himawari, but his warm hand was clasping her hand on top of hers. His fingers squeezed her palm, his hold was firm and searing. His touch was dry and hard, the battles he fought lingered in the harsh lines of his palms. Her pulse quickened, a strange tightness blooming in her chest.
She felt a lump form in her throat, a trail of sweat dripping down her nape and the palpitations of her heart tightening her chest. She released a breath, staring so hard at the hands of her and him, placed over her daughter.
His large hand held hers captive under his grasp. A twinge of soaring ineffable emotions made her shove her face into the pillow with suppressed whines. Her heart pulsed erratically. The warmth of another hand on hers contrasted with the sting of the hand being pale instead of tanned—the conundrum of the conflict drowned her in the wave of misery. Her heart thumped wildly within her chest, the tremble slithered up her spine and her eyes watered.
Wake up, Hinata. Her sanity gently rocked her in its arm, wiping away the despair, weaving her straying mental strings with sensible ones to bring her back to the plane of reality where everything sucked.
She bit her lip, pulling her hand from his grasp as gently as she could manage, watching as he stirred. His eyebrows pinched together, his lips curled downward as his hand chased hers as he flexed while he slept, blissfully ignorant of the way he again sought her out as if she was Sakura.
The thought yet again belittled her self-esteem and suddenly, she swung herself off the bed, a tremor of sadness washing over her, trailing her footsteps as she stepped away. With one final glance at the bed, she saw the squirming Sasuke with his hand clenching and unclenching in search of a familiar warmth, his blanket scraping against his trousers and sliding down the bed as he kicked it off.
She shook her head, squeezing her eyes, burning the image of his face beside her when she woke up with her hand in his, tight and locked. His warmth didn't belong in her hands, she yearned for such moments, with Naruto, yet her heart had remained denied for so long. She clung to her last threads of sanity.
She splashed the cold water on her face, rousing her. Her thoughts chilled her to the bone, instead of being washed off. She peered at herself in the reflection and saw that her mask of emptiness had slipped off already, as her emotions were written with bold red letters on her face. The inexplicable pull anchored her to the sea of unknown.
Nothing felt enough.
But everything suddenly felt enough.
She was unsure how and why.
Her fraying sanity kept her tethered to her reality, yet something pulled at her, against her, towards her—to smash her existence with a newly found unknown urge to just give in. Give in to what exactly, she wasn't aware.
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Hinata's hands moved rhythmically as she chopped the tomatoes, each slice falling with a soft thud onto the wooden cutting board. The tang of fresh herbs lingered in the air, mingling with the faint smell of earthy vegetables and the warm sunshine streaming through the kitchen window. Her hair, tied back in a loose ponytail, brushed against her shoulder, a temptation for Himawari's small fingers to tug at playfully. She would tug once, twice—demanding her mother's attention.
Sitting across from her, Umemiya picked mint leaves from their stems, laying them neatly in a bowl as he cast occasional glances at Hinata. He seemed preoccupied, hesitating slightly as he finally asked, "So…how did you and a Uchiha become friends?" His brow lifted with the faintest trace of suspicion, yet softened by genuine curiosity.
"He returned to Konoha and we just started to spend some lunches or dinners together…with our kids." Hinata smiled weakly, reminiscing the past two months which had changed the trajectory of her life as a new person barged into her life, blaring with new realities which were hard for her to grasp and comprehend.
Mitsuri voiced out, "He is a lovely boy, but he doesn't talk much."
"Uchiha-san doesn't speak much in general, don't take it to heart." She turned around and passed a restrained smile at them.
But Umemiya's voice cut through, unbending. "And your husband is fine with you traveling alone with another man?" The statement landed like a stone between them, and Hinata's knife slipped, falling onto the cutting board with a clatter.
Her heart raced as she gathered her words. Turning fully toward him, she pressed her back into the counter, her knuckles white as she gripped its edge. "Umemiya-san, Uchiha-san is my trusted friend, and my husband's as well," she replied, her voice steady, yet the weight of the statement pressed down on her. "Naruto asked Uchiha-san to be with me."
"I don't understand how we have never met your husband till now," Mitsuri expressed with a downward turn of her lips.
Umemiya's expression fell, "My child, forgive this old man's bluntness, but I worry and I am traditional. Are you truly happy? That husband of yours seems to be failing you."
"Of course, I understand." Hinata's throat tightened, and she bit her lip, willing the sharp sting to root her in the moment.
"Your husband should be protective of you," Umemiya pointedly looked at her, her frown deepening.
Mitsuri offered a curt nod, "He should! You used to talk so highly about your husband, but now…for a few years, we both have noticed the lack of mention, is everything alright?"
Hinata's body trembled with a jolt, and her voice wavered, "Everything is fine," she croaked out a lie, her smile had disappeared, darkened expressions twisted her face, and she continued wearily, "I am fine." She fell quiet, thoughtful for a moment.
Her heart had been heavy for a while, for years, she couldn't let it all out. Sato's family were the closest elders she had, even more than her father who had changed with tenderness oozing out of him but still, a figure so unattainable that she could never think of spilling her deepest desperations in front of him.
"Hinata…" Mitsuri gently called out her name, her racing mind paused as she raised her gaze to meet hers. Her tears blurred her vision, but she could read the wail on the woman's face with her wide eyes and parted mouth.
"It is fine, everything is fine. I am just overwhelmed…" she explained, wiping the tears from the back of her sleeves.
Umemiya contested, his voice sharp and gravelly, carrying an animosity, "He makes you unhappy, my child. I want you to chase your happiness instead of compromise."
Hinata scraped the last bit of chopped tomatoes off the board and into the sizzling oil with eggs, "I am not chasing him anymore, Umemiya-san." She stirred the tomatoes until they softened, to a certain texture which Sasuke preferred, "My kids won't be able to take the hit," she muttered.
"What about you? How much will you be able to take it?" Mitsuri asked, her voice brittle, saddened by the burdens of Hinata's miseries.
"I am afraid that I can't take it anymore," she whispered, hoping the sizzle of oil over the scorching flame dampened her voice. She felt the quiet cloaking her and the two concerned figures behind her, so she turned around and faced her heart with ignorance.
Her lips curled into a forced smile, "Anyways, Uchiha-san likes lunch around this time, do you both want to eat with him too? Will Umemiya-san be kind to be my friend this time?"
Their slack expressions twisted into confusion, "Anything for you, my dear." He nodded and returned the smile. Mitsuri's narrowed eyes raked over Hinata's facade, which Hinata deliberately ignored. She felt vulnerable and exposed, despair twisting in her gut, yelping at her.
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Outside, Sasuke sat on the cottage steps, a cigarette hanging idly from his lips.
He flicked the lighter on and off, watching as the bright flame flared before dying with each click. The smoke curled around him, bittersweet and acrid, filling his lungs with a burn he found oddly grounding. As the sky transitioned from twilight hues to dark indigo, he felt a sense of restlessness prick at him. The isolation of the cottage suited him, an escape from the pull of duty and unspoken obligations in Konoha.
He wondered that if an entity could tame the sky, paint it the way it wanted, then why did a mere man like Sasuke remain afloat, lost and unaware? So the higher entity held no mercy for Sasuke Uchiha? He supposed.
That trip, away from his supposed home, felt exhilarating. He supposed that his need to run away from Konoha hadn't died, it was still there, simmering and curling inside him, pushing him to be the rebel he once was. He felt like he belonged to the moss of the forest, hanging willows of the ageing trees, the stream nestled in the clearing or the twigs burned in the fire way more than he did in the confines of four walls of his room with his wife.
Another day had passed, Himawari had played with him, Mitsuri had chatted with him endlessly and Hinata moved around the cottage with her empty mask etched on her face, hiding the sulking which he definitely caught.
He coughed as he sucked in harder. The smoke wrangled his insides.
"If it hurts so much, why do you do it?" Her voice paused his movements of flicking the lighter on for another flame to burn the fifth cigarette.
He shrugged, his eyes never leaving the now fully darkened sky. "What can I say? Maybe I am a sucker for pain," he replied, flicking the lighter shut and stowing it in his pocket, the metal still warm against his hand. Her soft thudding steps padded on the creaking floor as she approached him.
The scent of burnt ash dissipated as the sweet smell of flowers wafted in the air.
He spun the unlit cigarette with his fingers, twiddling it with a speed that made it look like a blurred wisp of air curling around his fingers.
She crouched down next to him and sat beside him while leaving some space between them, "Uchiha-san, I need a favour." Her eyes were staring at her own feet so hard that if her Byakugan could emit Chakra beams, her feet would have been burnt to a crisp.
He asked, leaning his head to the side to stare at her, "What is it?"
"Make me sleep." She fiddled with her sleeve and took her entire bottom lip under her teeth, hissing at the painful bite of her teeth.
His eyes widened, shock jolting him, "What?"
She clarified, meeting his eyes as she turned her head towards him, "With Sharingan."
He whispered, his voice low enough to make her twitch, "That is risky."
She gulped, "I just want to sleep for some hours without any…" Her voice drawled, her palm raised to wipe the sweat off her neck.
"Nightmares? Thoughts?" he completed.
She firmly nodded, squaring her shoulders and clenching her jaw tight, "Yes."
"Why?" he queried.
"Because I deserve a night of peace."
His eyebrows tilted upwards, "Who told you about this?"
Her face flushed, and her eyes almost twinkled under the darkening sky as she blinked, "I know the basics about Sharingan, remember?"
He had a teasing lilt in his voice as he reminisced the confession of her knowledge about his Sharingan when she had thrashed his walls and touched her eyes a few days ago, "Ah, yes, Hyuga and their obsession with Sharingan."
"That is not true!" she gritted her teeth, indignation flaring within her.
Sasuke rose from the floor, unfolding himself as he took in Hinata's crumpled form beneath him. She lifted her gaze, her sunken eyes pleading, rimmed with dark shadows. Her voice trembled, fragile and broken. "Please, Uchiha-san… just once."
He stared down at her, the desperate knot of her hands wringing each other in a silent plea, her thin frame looking almost weightless under the strain she bore.
"Stand up."
Hinata pushed herself to her feet, swaying slightly as she straightened before him.
Sasuke reached out, his finger tucked under her chin with a gentle brush, "Don't be scared," he muttered, receiving a nod from her. "There will be a buzzing in your brain, perhaps with a pain," his fingers grasped her chin as he pulled her closer. Her quiet breaths turned into audible shivers.
Unshed tears glistened her eyes as the crimson of his eye met the empty pale pearls of hers, she gawked at the way the red of his eye pulled her in as if their eyes were bound by the invisible strings and ground into a strange force which throbbed, "You might be confused about what is real and what is not for a moment, but be assured, it is not a Genjutsu," he announced as his thumb rubbed her chin, stroking her to calm her flaring nerves lapping at her, raising the anxiety bubbling inside her.
"Thank you, Uchiha-san and—" Her voice trailed off, and her eyes fluttered shut as the spell took hold. Her body slumped forward, melting into him, her hands instinctively finding their way around his neck. She buried her face in his chest, her breathing deep and even, soft against his skin beneath his thin shirt.
Sasuke allowed himself a small murmur, almost a whisper. "Hyuga… you never cease to surprise me." With one arm wrapped securely around her waist, he lifted her with ease, supporting her slight form against him. Her face nestled into the crook of his neck, the soft brush of her breath warm against his collarbone. She mumbled something incoherent in her sleep, her lips grazing his skin in faint, unconscious movements that sent a surprising warmth through him.
As he carried her to her room, the dim light from the fireplace flickered over the wrinkled, watchful faces of the elderly couple. Umemiya's expression tightened, an almost unspoken accusation in his narrowed eyes, while Mitsuri's jaw dropped in a look of shocked wonder, nearly spilling the teacup she clutched in trembling hands.
Sasuke laid Hinata down gently, her fingers still clutching at the edge of his cloak, refusing to let him go even in her sleep. He pried her delicate grip from the fabric, only for her hand to close around his fingers, drawing his hand close to her chest as she instinctively sought comfort and tucked herself deeper into the mattress.
Himawari's soft voice piped up from the side, pulling him from the trance-like focus on Hinata's sleeping form. "Is Mommy okay?"
"She's just sleeping," he replied quietly, freeing his hand from her grasp and tucking the blanket around her small shoulders. He turned to the girl, who bounced on her toes, eyes bright with expectation.
"Can we play outside?" Himawari asked, already tugging at his hand.
He nodded, his gaze flicking back to Hinata's resting face one last time. "Sure," he replied, almost absently.
The smell of her still lingered on his clothes—a faint, delicate floral scent that seemed to echo her presence, even as he tried to shake it off. He needed to strip that scent off which had woven itself with the fibers of his being.
That princess made him dwell in the depths of him, which had been unexplored forever. Like the one veil of obscurity that he always donned, without knowing. Because of her presence, he felt the tearing of his veil, of his defenses. The sinking fear of being bare in front of someone, raw and exposed—he felt haunted.
Perhaps that was the true strength of the Byakugan—the peeling of layers after layers from people, the shattering of walls, the rattling of control, the unravelling of reality—for that was what the Hyuga-Hime began to do with precision, to him.
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A/N: REVIEWS AND FAVS WILL MOTIVATE ME TO UPDATE!
I wrote this in two days, but it is one of my favourite chapters. I aimed to make this scandalous, needy and desiring. I hope you like it. In the previous chapter, you all asked for more Sasuhina, so here they are as per my planning hehe ;)
What do you like about this and any specific moment? Let me know.