CHAPTER 15: Promised Wishes - Second Arc
Tomorrow would mark a full year, a full cycle of sun and moon without him. She thought.
Tomorrow. She lamented. And sighed.
Hinata clenched her hands against the edges of the counter as she hunched forward, squeezing her eyes shut. The world seemed to move forward, leaving her behind. She remained tethered with the memories of Naruto, unable to take the caress of his warmth off her skin. The gnawing reality clawed at her ribs, aching in her pulse—Narutohad departed from her world…How was that even possible?
She exhaled sharply.
She had been picking up her torn and shattered pieces.
She was feeling the weight of recovery. The harshness of her fate had given her moments of reprieve.
But not today, not tomorrow. He left a year ago, and it hurts. Let it hurt,she mumbled to herself.
She needed to hold onto something to keep herself steady; otherwise, she was about to fall into the abyss where she had once stayed and ended up ruining herself.
Her hands gripped the counter tightly to support her wobbly legs. Her thumping heart continued to ring in her ears. Her mind reeled, testing her with the memories she wasn't strong enough to face.
The way he used to hold her hands…
The way he used to kiss her…
The way his laughter filled their home…
A muffled sound drew her attention, breaking her trance. Her eyes, pooling with stinging tears, fluttered open, and she took in the surroundings of her sun-lit kitchen. The aroma of brewing tea wafted in the air, and the babbles and giggles echoed in the silence.
Hinata gulped, the bitter tang of memories coating her tongue. She heaved a deep sigh, and a tremble slithered up her spine as she straightened. Her quivering hands withdrew from the counter. She crossed her arms on her chest as if to hold her dwindling frame as she strode off the kitchen, leaving the tea to turn bitter, just like the boiling agony simmering within her.
Her hallway leading to the dining hall was bursting with louder voices—familiar ones—a deep, velvety tone paired with a cooing, soft voice. Listening intently, she crossed the threshold of her dining hall with her plodding steps and found herself lingering at the doorway to the living room. Her stress deflated from her body as her tensed shoulders slumped, the searing burn coiled around her chest eased, and the ache went numb at sight.
Often…quite often, Hinata had been the observer in a serene moment shared between her son and Sasuke.
Childlike urgency propelled Haru to wiggle in Sasuke's lap, holding his index finger with his tiny hands and bringing it over the glossy, multi-coloured pages of the book splayed on his lap. Sasuke's eyes roamed over the page as he read in his sleepy, groggy voice.
"Dada…More…Read." Haru tugged on his hand, turning his head to look up at Sasuke's half-lidded gaze. As expected, Sasuke complied, with no questions, no grumbling…his lips stretched into a small smile as he flipped the page and narrated the story of a child lost in the maze, looking for his magical cape to fly back to his home.
Hinata's heartbeat settled down. The routine of watching Haru and Sasuke had become so unusually a part of her life that it became a source of calmness. However, the prickling sensation ofloss—theloss of Naruto—still clung to her, pressing against her ribs.
Despite the grief stretching over her head like a dark cloud and the warmth unfolding before her—Haru's incessant giggles, Sasuke's strong arm cradling Haru on his lap, Haru's attempts to climb over Sasuke's chest and then clawing at his shoulder, Sasuke's guttural chuckles and a rare grin, Haru's never-ending fascination with playing with Sasuke's hair, Sasuke's soft caresses on the chubby calves of her son as he toppled over his frame and almost perched on his shoulder— her life clashed.
Grief or Happiness. She juggled.
The absence of his blue eyes, his blonde hair, his tanned skin, his broad shoulders, his soft touches, his boisterous voice, his scent and his every damn thing—made her throat clench, muffling the voice of reason.
But her son laughed. A twinkling laugh. A laugh that reddened his cheeks, a laugh that made him breathless, a laugh that brightened his eyes—her son touched happiness, with Sasuke.
Her son was unmarred by any grief, for his Dada was with him, entertaining his every need.
Haru worshipped Sasuke.
Sasuke cherished Haru.
Hinata couldn't fathom her course of action; Sasuke's hands grasped the tiny soft hands of her son and pulled him towards a future that Haru deserved, but Hinata still felt tethered to her past, to her lover who she lost…though, her heart hummed at the mere possibility of moving ahead, of taking a step towards building a new future rather than wailing and lamenting the one she had lost.
But Naruto…
I can't forget you, I won't forget you. She sucked in a sharp breath as tears prickled at the corner of her eyes.
His hoarse voice broke through the chatter of her mind, Sasuke shifted on the sofa, hastily grabbing Haru off his shoulder who was nibbling on his ear while letting out the shrieks of excitement, "Hinata."
She stepped inside, the tremble coursing through her fingers had subsided and she let her hands hang loose at her sides, her fingers twitched with the befuddlement still pulsing through her veins. She replied, "Yes?"
"I need that…tea." He lifted his unoccupied hand and massaged his temples, his voice breaking and rough. Unbidden, her thoughts flitted to the last night—Sasuke tumbling inside the house, drunken in misery and the scent of alcohol had swept over him, his incoherent and slurring words paired with stiffened muscles—Sasuke looked undone, shattered and unravelled to a point where she couldn't will away his pain from seeping into hers.
"Why did you drink so much last night?" She huffed, tucking the loose strands behind her ear as she leaned forward to grab Haru from his shoulders. Her son's body squirmed in her hold as he let out a sharp cry and raised his arms towards Sasuke, his lips curled into a pout, and a small frown rested on his forehead. His eyes lost their glint for a moment, and Hinata had to sway him in her arms and pepper him with kisses on the cheek and the crown of his head to soothe him.
Sasuke stretched his legs forward and sank into the sofa, leaning his head back and rubbing his neck with a groan. "I am sorry," he muttered.
She ducked, grabbed the storybook off his lap, and pushed a cushion behind the small of his back. He eased into the comfort, eyes shut and hands clenched into fists on his lap.
Haru bobbed his head left and right, squealing as he nuzzled in her neck. Hinata turned around, saying, "I mean…you can do whatever you want…but you don't take drinks well—"
His answer jolted her, and her retreat halted, "I miss him." She bit the inside of her cheek, despite the warmth spread over the living room, she felt her nerves freeze, her blood ran cold and her breath hitched.
"Me too," she cast a glance over her shoulder and mumbled. Sasuke's lean figure was illuminated by the golden hues of sunlight flickering inside the room. The weight of losing a brother, and a best friend, shrouded him as well like a dark cloud, fighting off the warmth wrapped around him.
She bolted, rushing to get away from him, to not let the contagious grief and longing unite them. The tea she brewed for him, even before he had asked, she poured it into the cup, hoping that the bitterness could cut the infinite yearning he carried within him.
.
.
.
The rusty wooden box had been in her closet for almost a year, collecting dust, nestled between the piles of her clothes. Hinata sat, with her legs folded, on the ground, near the side table of her bed. Right in front of her was the box that she didn't want to touch or unlatch, for it burned her. The darker brown surface of the lip felt rough under her fingertips, she pulled the lid aside.
Her heart pounded. Her mind reeled. Her lips jutted out and trembled. The past year was the toughest predicament that she had the misfortune of enduring. But she survived. She barely survived.
However, the contents of the box could tarnish everything. They could reawaken the wounds that had festered deep down within her a long time ago. The moonlight filtering through the curtains to spill on her dwindling figure on the floor illuminated the inked parchments inside the box—two letters, with messy scrawls of her name and his name, were there like some ancient gems.
Her finger curled around the hem of the shirt of her dead lover which she had worn to cure her agony—instead, it had deterred her, from peace. The sob climbed up her throat, and the chill in the air nibbled on her exposed legs, causing her to shiver.
She pulled her hand back, unable to pick up the last piece of her lover's existence.
A year ago, when she had received the letter, along with his will, she chose to not read it…to keep the idea of his departure…a mere idea. But a year had passed, and Hinata was aware of her reality, she had clawed her way out of her miseries, and she was certain that even if she kept that letter for an eternity…it was not going to bring Naruto back to her.
Her throat felt dry, prickling with the sobs tearing through it. Her mind replayed her cursed year, from the day she received the news of Naruto's demise to the council's hearing with Sasuke, to the first and only trip to Naruto's grave, to the tormenting initial months without anyone with a fogged mind and starved heart and then…Sasuke's arrival in her life, his impertinent attempts to interfere with her life and forcing her to pick herself up and his natural yet haunting dedication to her son and…even herself.
Life after Naruto was a quest for survival for her. She was thrown into the middle of emptiness where only screeching alarms of ambiguity rang and made her ears bleed.
She wondered what Naruto had written for her, regarding her life after him. She wondered how the man she loved so dearly perceived a life for her, in which he did not exist.
For a fleeting moment, she contemplated burning the letter, letting the lapping flames consume his last words to her…but then the sheer ache of losing his precious words, his honesty, and his love…propelled her to pick up the letter with her trembling hands.
She clutched the envelope tightly, crumpling it. The ink seemed to have worn and seeped through, blob of smudge ink marked the age of the letter. She gulped and gasped, reined her emotions, straightened her back and let the heat of her anxiety simmer down and fizzled out for a while.
But the gnawing unease made her breath hitch and her fingers glowed with faint specks of her blue-ish chakra as she tore the top layer of the envelope, pulling the worn parchment out of the folds.
With each line, she could hear his warm voice, she could feel him sitting beside her with his arms around her shoulder, bringing her head to rest on his shoulder. His existence echoed around her, she basked in his warmth, even if the air in her room carried a biting edge.
The worn pages, four of them, felt like a leaden weight in her palms. Each stroke of ink carried a story, a story of yearning. His words were woven with love and longing, with pain and impending grief, with suffering and helplessness.
Dear Hinata!
If you are reading this, then I am gone! How? I don't know. I hope you are not hurt. I don't know why I suddenly want to write letters to y'all. I have won the war with Sasuke…what is this little alien against us that we are going to fight? Haha. But I am still writing this…because I feel…heavy.
I love you. No questions. No doubts. I love you. I will forever love you. I am so grateful that you gave me a family…yourself and Haru.
If there's any awareness after death, I know I'd miss you and our son the most. And Sasuke… and Iruka-sensei. And Pervy Sage. And Kakashi. And Sakura. And Sai.
Hinata…I don't know how to begin…I just want to tell you that I see it, I see everything. Giving birth to Haru made you a different person, even if you tried to hide it, I saw everything. I am sorry that our happiness somehow took away your identity as a shinobi…but I believe in you, you will heal, you will recover. Every one of us is with you…I mean, if you are reading this…then not me…but our friends.
You gave me your unconditional love, you have been giving it for so long, I regret that I didn't notice it from the beginning, but…I feel honoured. I was not the hero of Konoha when you loved me, and I want to thank you for that. You have such a big heart, Hinata…I am insanely lucky!
I love Haru, I will miss him, I feel this pain that I won't get to know him if I die next week, I won't have his first word, his first step, his first run, his first exam…I won't have my son and my son won't have me. I hate this. Who knows what is gonna happen next week, the mission is tough, but I want to survive so I don't lose Haru. But Hinata…if I am not there, I know I don't even have to say it…but please, take care of him, love him as much as you loved me…even more. Love him the most.
Love yourself the most too, you are incredible as a shinobi, as a friend, as a sister, as a daughter, as a lover…and as a mother. You are perfect. Don't forget that. If you ever feel that you are any less, just remember my words, alright?
I know…the moment I am writing this…we both have so many dreams about each other, for our marriage, for our son…and if my premonitions about my death are true, I know it will hurt you. But I want you to rely on your strength, I have seen it within you, Hinata…I hope you see it too. Survive. Survive for Haru. Survive for yourself.
And if one day…you want to move on…do not hesitate. I feel weird just writing this…but no pressure, okay, you should live your life, I will turn my head from above when some other guy makes a place in your heart and…well, let's not go into detail, I want you to never hold yourself back due to me.
But whoever you choose, please…I beg…please, he should love Haru, truly.
I know you are way more responsible than I am, and I know you are an amazing parent so…I mean, I just feel…I don't know, Hinata.
I am already jealous of a man who you might love more than you loved me…a man who will probably become a dad to Haru when I am not there…but I have to stop being selfish and…Oh, Kami, I am not going to write about this!
Anyways! So! I don't know what people write in their letters…but wait, I do want to write about one thing, I don't want to pressure you about it, I hope you don't misunderstand me.
It is my request.
I was lucky enough to make a family with you. Sasuke was not. He is alone. He is…not okay. I have written his letter already, I have told him to take care of you in my absence…but he is Sasuke, I don't know how will he take it. Will he live in the room of our house? All my plans about keeping him close…will those…I mean…remember I told you that he can even have an entire floor with his lady one day…will he live in our house, Hinata? I don't know. But I know he cares. And if I am not alive and he is, and he has read my letter, he will definitely try to be there for you…in his own way.
I know you both are not friends. But I assure you, he will protect you and Haru, I told him to, so he will do it, because of his bond with me. Please…accept him. He is harsh. He is unfriendly. But he has a good heart. This world still doesn't trust him, they won't be kind to him, they won't ever understand him…they will hurt him…please, for me, be there for him.
Take care of him. I know it is going to be hard for you, I know you know what I mean…but consider it my last request.
I don't want him hurt and lonely too. He is my family too. But unlike you and Haru, he doesn't have anyone besides me…can you promise me to…be there for him?
I don't know if he is going to stay in Konoha even though I have asked him to, but if he does…treat him as a human. Not as a monster. He is just a flawed human. If you show him kindness, if you show him the real you, I can guarantee you that he will protect you and Haru with his life.
Maybe I am truly selfish.
But I hope you understand me one last time. As you always have.
Send love to Haru. I love you.
—Naruto Uzumaki. (I wish I come back alive to tell you…but If I don't…always remember that you were the one I chose and never regretted)
The unfortunate pages, doused with his last words, with his last shred of love for her, with his last…promise for her… were scattered on her lap with teardrops pooling on some of the words, streaking the pages with the smearing of the ink, the words dissolving into her tears or her tears erasing his last remains.
The turmoil beneath her surface, brewing and boiling for a year, erupted. Her tears were streaming down her face, scorching sensations marring her cheeks, her heartbeats rang loud in her ears and her thoughts were nothing but empty strings, tangled and charred. The broken harmony of his last words with her cracked soul stung.
Her heart was a graveyard of memories. Yet a sanctuary where her love for him resided, where her grief for him never departed.
The beauty of constant reminders of his love couldn't dampen the ache from his loss that lingered and feasted on her sanity. The beauty that remained, tasting sweet on her tongue, turned bitter when it began sounding like a faded reality that could have been, but now, could never be.
Her heart felt pierced. Her sobs wracked her body. Her brain exploded with her jumbled thoughts. Her heart was set ablaze by the weight of his words, by the tinge of his tears on thosedamnedpieces of paper. She drew her knees closer to her, burying her face, her arms wrapped around her, seeking to inhale his scent from the collar of his shirt that she was wearing. The crumpled pages were forgotten on the floor as if they were scalding her if she kept holding onto them.
Her voice croaked as she coughed, her tears blurring her vision and she could not see the way those pages drifted away from her as the gust of wind swept across her room. She abruptly leaned forward, trying to catch the pages, as if she wanted to grab the last vestiges of his existence for herself. As if the hollow of her chest and the void echoing her need for him were berating her for losing yet another part of him.
She crawled forward, the darkness of her room didn't aid her movements at all, her leg hit the side table, and the vase tumbled off and fell on the floor beside her, the broken shards dug into the flesh of her bare thighs. She winced, gasped and almost wailed. Her world shifted underneath, she let out a breathy whimper at the way the shard pierced through her skin, blood oozing out of the gash, crimson was coloured murky under the silent shroud of night.
The thumping emotions buzzing within her and the physical ache searing her, weaving through her cracks, rattling her…settled deep within her bones, clashing and robbing her breaths. She shuddered as she let the sizzle of her wound creep inside her nerves, clenching at her core. Her breathing faded, she hiccuped. Her tears were like a lump in her throat and a fog in her mind.
Her voice broke, and her pain echoed.
Her blurry vision couldn't make out anything in front of her, the moonlight faltered, streaking the portion of the floor too far from her.
The light was out of her reach.
I love you. He sounded so warm.
Survive. Survive for Haru. Survive for yourself. He was desperate.
Naruto did not want to die, even as a duty, because he finally had a family…he wanted to stay. He wanted to live. But he didn't, fate was cruel. She whimpered.
"Hinata." A voice, deep and familiar, cut through her haze.
She pressed her hand on the gash on her thigh and squeezed her eyes shut, thinking that maybe her mind was playing tricks.
His voice was louder, coming from behind the door of the adjoining room of Haru. "Hinata…are you…okay? Do I need to come inside?"
"Sasuke…" she breathed.
"Hinata!" His voice was paired with a clink of the doorknob twisting, she looked over the bed, towards the door, and saw how it was slowly pushed. The creak of the door snapped and cut through the stillness of the moment. "Where are you?" he grumbled.
"Sasuke…please don't—" she urged, her tone barely loud enough for her. Before she could protest, the room was illuminated, the lights overhead blinked and twinkled, she shut her eyes at the stark light spilling over them, unsettling them. "Sasuke…"
"What the hell happened here?" He emerged right in front of her. He towered over her, face empty and stoic, but a snarl twisted his expression with each passing second. "You are hurt—"
"Sasuke, please, leave—"
"No." He crouched down, and unknowingly he pushed the wooden box aside. His eyes didn't catch his name written on the untouched envelope, or maybe they did, but he chose to let it go. Perhaps, he was also scared of Naruto's last words, perhaps he also did not want his death to become something real with his last promise.
His eyes roamed over her bare flesh, shaded scarlet with blood trickling down her thigh.
He scooted closer to her, pulling her shirt up, and grabbing her thigh, "Sasuke—" she gasped, widening her eyes. His eyes lifted and met her puzzled stare. The coal-black turned red, and his chakra thrummed in the air and around her, like a fence, like a barrier.
Like a hug that she desperately sought.
Thin green threads were coiled around his hand, glowing and prickling her skin as his hand hovered over her wound. The strings moved to stitch the cut, the stabbing pain eased as his chakra seeped through her skin, "Shut up, let me heal—"
"Please don't—" she squirmed, her weak fists pushing on his chest, her tears clinging to her eyelashes.
He fumed, his voice bellowed, "Hinata! Stop being stubborn! You are bleeding!"
Her fists dropped on her lap and so did her gaze, his warm hand rubbed the healed spot on her thigh. She sobbed, her voice heavy with silent pleas, his shrill tone had whipped her, and she croaked out, "Don't…y-yell, please…not t-tonight—"
"Fuck, Hinata…I didn't mean to…" His hand reached out to grab her face, angling her face up to meet his softened eyes, red and purple, but still, carrying a fleeting serenity and a hidden apology.
"I…" she leaned into his warm touch on her cheek, and he sucked in a sharp breath.
"Let me pick up the shards," he interrupted her, pulling his hand away from her, she stilled. Her throbbing nerves made her numb and frozen on the ground. He leaned forward to grab her by the arms and pulled her off the floor, "Sit here." She was pushed on her bed. Sasuke ducked, slipped his hand under her knees and lifted them, resting them on the bed. Her muscles twitched with his fading touch.
"Sasuke—"
"Wait." He turned and fetched the drifted papers. Hinata wondered if his magnificent Uchiha eyes were able to read Naruto's confessions, requests and anxiety from the pages. He folded all of them and set them on the side table, pushing them under a book. He navigated in her room, as if he owned the place, and covered the wooden box with the lid and put it over the book.
"Sasuke—"
"Quiet!" he groaned as he knelt and picked up the gleaming shards, almost carelessly, as if his hands were already marred and callused enough, which they were, hence, he bore no fears against the broken and shattered pieces of glass, readied to sharply dig through his flesh.
He had dealt with her sharp edges.
He had been cut by her keen and plunging words.
He was accustomed to a life of bruises and blood.
Looking at the dishevelled state of Sasuke, her eyes welled up again. Naruto didn't want anyone to hurt Sasuke. But she had. Naruto didn't want anyone to treat Sasuke as a monster. But she had treated him like a sinner.
Hinata had done exactly what Naruto did not want her to do, she respected none of his wishes, his requests, his promises.
And her heart sank. Something dark and twisting swept over her and clouded her thoughts then muffled the cries. She tilted her head backwards, her head hitting the headboard, she felt the hit slither through her body. She let out a whimper, broken and unsure.
"Tell me now, what happened?" He seemed to have discarded the broken vase and towered over her again, his eyes turned dark, and lingering signs of crimson were in her memory. Hinata swallowed hard and blinked at the tears that had just formed in the corner of her eyes.
Hinata heaved a deep sigh.
He startled, frowning at her silence.
Naruto was someone she chased. But the man in front of her, he was gravity that she couldn't resist, she was pulled towards him, no matter what. At that point, after a year, she realized…that Naruto was right about Sasuke.
Sasuke was worth it.
Not because Naruto had told her.
Not because Haru loved him the most.
Not because he was the strongest.
Definitely not because she began to understand him.
It was because, despite the pain she had made him taste through her cruelty, he never once wavered from his determination to follow the path that Naruto requested from him and his fate.
Unlike Hinata, Sasuke had kept his promise to Naruto.
Unlike Hinata, Sasuke deserved Naruto.
Unlike Hinata, Sasuke could go and face Naruto without guilt, without regrets.
She twisted to the side, grabbed the wooden box and yanked the lid off the box in simmering fury of the ultimate reality dawning upon her. The name, his name, prominent on the envelope she had cruelly kept under confines, taking away the liberty from Sasuke to learn about what Naruto wanted for him and from him.
Unlike Hinata, Sasuke deserved to know Naruto's last promised wishes.
She had her mind electrified, attempting to wire her sanity back to her core, attempting to tie the loose ends of her thoughts together. Tension built up in every muscle, in every vein, in every bone—a wave of gripping guilt washed over her as she fished the envelope out of the box.
She stretched her hand, offering the envelope to him. "This is yours."
His gaze lowered as he inspected the envelope trembling in her shaky grasp. He gulped as he plucked it out of her grip as if he held a withering flower.
"You told me that—"
She tucked the stray strands of her hair behind her ear and began in a breathy tone, "You deserve to read it. Tomorrow, you should visit him and tell him that Hinata was cruel enough to hold this back from you—"
He stepped back, shaking his head, crumpling the envelope in his clenched grasp. "I won't go," he asserted, his voice rough and adamant.
"Why?" she shot back, her brows knitted together. Her heart pounded. She sat up ramrod, her fingers clutched the edge of the blanket and threw them off her. The heat of his insane insinuation burned through her. Why not! I am not stopping you anymore. She chided him, her voice only rang in her head.
He scoffed, his head lowering as his voice deepened, "I killed him. What point do I have to visit his grave on his death anniversary? To relive—"
"He wants you there!" she snapped.
He looked away, jaw tight and eyes tensed at the window, "How do you know?"
"How do you not know?" She argued, her anger flaring beneath the shaken surface. "He…Sasuke…you can't just leave—"
He clenched his jaw, and he gritted, "I don't visit dead people. Especially the ones dead by my hands." Hinata could feel the shadow of his past lacing his words. The anguish of bearing the blood-stained hands lanced through him, jolting him, she could feel the shudder in her veins.
She cried out, "You argued when I stopped you from visiting his memorial—"
"Times have changed." He shrugged, "I have changed." The facade of his coldness, the mask of his indifference—nothing shocked her. She had seen multiple shades of Sasuke Uchiha, and she knew which one was the real one and which one was trying to bury the real one.
In front of him, he was failing at the attempts to crush the real Sasuke, vulnerable and desperate, to not have him emerge out of his miseries and cause havoc.
She was spiralling, unable to stop herself from slipping off the cliff where she had finally learned to steadily stand.
She scurried off the bed, her feet pulled strength from her aching muscles to make her stand. She moved towards him, steps were slow and deliberate, measured and quivering. She noticed the way his body stiffened with each howling step of hers, his breathing was barely steady and his hand hastily shoved the crumpled letter inside his trouser pocket.
Her lips parted but he beat her to it, he shifted his gaze to her, and asserted, "No, Hinata—"
"Naruto didn't think of you as a coward!" she spat, the irritation flooded her insides.
He hissed, sneering at her. His rage, barely restrained at the way his eyes darkened even beyond the realistic possibilities, heightened. "I am a coward. The biggest one. He was blind…you don't have to be—"
Her voice dropped, softened and she requested, "You should go and tell him—"
He stepped into her space, grabbing her by the small of her waist, and slamming her to him. Her eyes widened, and she let out a barely audible yelp, her fingers grabbing the fabric of his shirt underneath which the muscles of his chest rippled and twitched. "Tell him what, Hinata? That I am sorry for killing him? That I am sorry for living a life that he is supposed to cherish? Should I tell him that I am sorry about making his lover think of his absence every time she sees me…that I am sorry his son sees me as his father and not him…and all because I ended up killing him? Do you want me to tell him that?" His voice was clipped and sharp, blaring and dominating. His hot breath washed over her face, she felt her heartbeat following his rhythm.
She squirmed in his grip, and his hold tightened around her waist, pulling her closer as if there was any space left to fill between them. She suggested, her breath pausing in between, "Y-You can read…what he wanted to say to you—"
He craned his neck to the side, cursed under his breath and groaned. "Hinata…No, I can't—"
She wanted to finally respect Naruto's wishes for Sasuke. She had to start by shattering the distance she caused between them out of her blind grief. She implored, "Please—"
He raked his free hand in his hair, clenching as if to uproot his hair from his scalp. He huffed and hissed. He looked down at her, and he leaned forward to press his forehead on hers, pleading, "Come with me then…I can't do this…alone. I have never visited any grave, I don't know—"
Her hands eased on his chest, and whatever minimal chakra she could summon within her, she let it loose, oozing out of her in an attempt to calm his nerves. His heartbeats were palpitating, she could feel them blare like a drum under her hands pressing onto his chest. She shook her head, "No. This will be between you and him."
"If I am to go alone, I won't go! Simple!" he unwrapped his hand from her waist with a quick jerk, and she almost stumbled back. Her forehead suddenly felt the chill, the warm sensation had faded into oblivion. Her shirt, orange and black, was of Naruto, reaching till her mid-thigh, she draped it like a memory over her, to feel his scent, to feel his warmth. But now, she was inundated with Sasuke's pine scent, his scorching warmth and his fragments of pain clinging to her, eclipsing whatever was left of Naruto in that shirt.
"Can you do it for me?" She tilted her head, hoping to liberate him from the shackles she had forced upon him a long time ago.
At her meek request, he frowned, mouth parted open and eyes boring into hers in disbelief. "For you?" he choked out.
"Can you?" she whispered. She bit on her lip, her fingers fiddled with each other, as she inhaled the pine scent wafting in the air, clinging to her forehead and her cheek.
"Anything for you, Hinata. Always." He chuckled, unbuttoning the top buttons of his shirt and breathing heavily. "I don't possess the ability to deny you, you should know by now." He gritted his teeth as if what he confessed contradicted what he wanted. As if his helplessness against her—against the burdening promise of Naruto—ripped him apart from the inside. He breathed, looking dismantled, "I can do anything for you…except bringing him back."
She stepped forward, lifting her hand to reach out to him, "Sasuke—"
He stepped back, his frown deepened. He shut his eyes and then exhaled, "Go to sleep. I will go to him and pay my respect—"
A sob echoed, "Sasuke…" she breathed. Her tongue carried an acrid taste like some words had died on it.
"Do not cry, Hinata." He turned around, "Haru is in his room. Asleep." he informed and rushed out of her room. She stood there, baffled and broken. He deserved to meet him, after a year. She, however, had some amends to make before being worthy enough for Naruto again.
The hollowness of her heart carried her grief like a privilege, but fear slithered through her spine at the prospect of carrying it forever. When the thought crashed into her mind, she swallowed and the fluttering intensified in her stomach, restlessness bursting through her insides—Naruto was woven into every corner of her mind, even if in fading shades, she was unable to break free from the gripping love and warmth she had once shared with him.
Honouring his wishes—was going to be her chance to take a step towards a future she was scared to explore.
.
.
.
The next morning belonged to the cursed day.
Naruto Uzumaki. Dead. A year ago.
Reality had become an echo in her mind. The shadows of the past crept over her, lingering around her, following her. Her son's sour mood in the morning tore through the myriad of brutal emotions she was reliving with each passing second. Haru squirmed in his crib, frowning and whimpering.
Rubbing the sleep off her dazed eyes, Hinata cradled her beautiful baby in her arms, patting his back and rubbing soothing circles on his forehead—something that Sasuke used to do. Her mind was invaded by thoughts of her new life and the newpeopleentwined with her.
"Mama…" Haru nuzzled in her hair, squealing.
Hinata pressed a soft kiss on his cheek, saying, "Yes, Haru…Mama will get you your breakfast."
"Dada?" he squeaked, his twinkling eyes glistened with tears, his lips quivering.
Hinata's steps paused in the middle of the hallway. The stillness of the house made her bristle on the spot. The unusual silence in the emptiness of her house, the lack of rumbling chakra in the air and the crack in the routine of Haru and Sasuke waddling in the kitchen making a mess—made her eyebrows knit and lips thin into a straight line.
The middle of her forehead stung and a shrill pull shot through her as her eyes brightened, the pulsating veins throbbed around her eyes, letting her barely healed Byakugan awaken. Each corner of her house was empty and quiet. Suddenly, the house reminded her of the exact time a year ago—the moment when time stilled and stretched at the news of Naruto's demise—Hinata had stood frozen in her hallway the same way, carrying a significantly younger Haru in her arms, Anbu huddling around her doorway, some of her friends had dropped their mask to deliver the devastating blow.
A cruel shudder ran through her at the similarity of her situation.
Where are you, Sasuke? She wondered.
The cruel time grated on her nerves, lingering when she wanted it to pass. The day had just begun yet it snatched the balance from underneath her feet. She was staggering. As if awaiting doom.
Haru's flailing arms whipping at her in annoyance, woke her up from her trance. Perhaps her son could also feel the venomous time freezing around them, to torture his mother more than ever.
All she wanted was for the day to pass.
Yet the sun was shining brighter.
The audacity?
Her sun was taken away from her, yet the world had the privilege to bask in the warmth of the sun shining on them.
The cruel…absolutely horrifying audacity of her fate made her snicker and finally lift her feet to take a step ahead, breaking the stillness of time.
Time ticked.
Seconds turned to minutes.
Haru gulped down the few ounces of milk.
Minutes turned to an hour.
Haru stacked the blocks over blocks, sitting on the carpeted ground, carrying the round-edged photo frame of his dada, his mama and himself from his birthday on his lap.
An hour turned into a couple of hours.
Hinata was sitting, huddled on the sofa, her eyes locked on her son, her medicine turning bitter on her tongue and the warm milk spilt over her hand…as if her hand bled, white blood. Too empty.
A couple of hours turned to—
A knock on her door jolted her, awakening her senses, reminding her that she was not drowning, that she was alive.
Sasuke.
"Dada?" Haru's eyes glittered, stars glimmered in his gaze as he blinked up at her, in hope, in a ravenous hunger for the life he had been accustomed to—longing for the mornings with his dada—without any awareness of the father who was buried inside the very earth…exactly a year ago.
Struck by melancholy, she rose from the sofa. The white blood trickled down her fingers turning golden under the spilling sunlight from the window where the world beyond her grief began. Her feet dragged her to the door, and just like her son, she wore hopes like a garland.
Her warmed hands clutched the doorknob and with a hitched breath, she pulled the door open.
Her cold and vacant eyes met the welcoming eyes of the two girls who were there to share the weight of life on a cursed day with her.
Her blond friend launched into her, engulfing her in a hug, "Hinata-chan!" Hinata's hand still latched onto the doorframe, her body turned rigid for a fleeting moment before melting into her friend's warmth.
"Hinata!" Sakura stood with a weary smile, eyes red and puffy, clad in black.
Ino pulled away from the hug, still holding Hinata close and her wondering eyes sparkled with curiosity, "You didn't come to—"
"Ino," Sakura chastised, dragging Ino back from the neck.
"Come in, both of you." Hinata gulped, pulling the door, allowing both of her friends to pass through the threshold.
"Haru is awake?" Ino asked, shifting the topic of the conversation which was inevitable.
Hinata nodded, leading them to the living room. Haru's eyes lifted, assessing the entrance of two women with his mother. Hinata didn't fail to notice the droop of his stare, the disappointment swimming in them. Haru grumbled, clawing his tiny fist over the carpet and busying himself with the toys he had a habit of playing with his Dada in the mornings. Ino sat beside him, caressing his cheek, he shifted but didn't look up.
Ino, unaware, continued to pat his head and flick his cheek.
Sakura began, "You might want to spend your time alone, but we thought to meet you—"
"It is good that you came." Hinata was truthful. The silence in her house had shattered, and the ticking of the time quickened. Time began to flow the moment her friends entered her house. The simmering tension webbing the air eased. "Haru is being cranky without Sasuke—"
"He was around the memorial," Ino chimed in. Hinata's words died on her tongue.
He actually listened to her.
Hinata was not surprised.
Sasuke was right! He never denied her anything.
So, she had the hunch that he'd pay a visit to Naruto's grave.
But she thought that he'd require the push.
Sakura shared, "There is a huge crowd on his grave today, we all went early in the morning to avoid the chaos…Sasuke-kun was waiting outside, he was probably waiting for some privacy…"
"You didn't go with him, Hinata?" Ino asked, finally finding the right moment to plug in her question, urging her to satisfy her curiosity.
"I can't," Hinata murmured, lowering her gaze. Her son sat hunched, gripping a crayon tightly as he scribbled messy streaks of blue and red across the empty yellow page.
The silence had dawned upon her yet again. Time—a cruel whip—crashed onto her, halting and poisoning every crack of the wall erected around her, seeping into her.
The day was going to be long and arduous.
But unlike the last year, she had her friends around.
Her heart was strained.
Yet she let out a low breathy sigh.
She was alive.
Unlike the last year.
Hinata was living, as gruelling as it was, she was…breathing, yearning…living.
She was surviving.
For Naruto. With Sasuke. As Haru's mother.
.
.
A/N:
Leave your favs, follows and comments to show your love and support, I'd appreciate it!
- Did you notice a shift in this chapter? Technically and figuratively?
- Which line or moment did you enjoy the most?
- Any guesses of what might be in Sasuke's letter?
- Did you notice a huge spoiler of the future in this?
It took me some time to write this, sorry! I was busy with my new job and now my mom has an eye surgery, please send prayers, so I will be busy with that. Meanwhile, when I come back to this again in a week or so, I wish to see some support from you all!
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