A/N: Hey there! So, an image was shared to me and I love it! Made it the cover right away. Hinata still has long dark hair in it though, because she said she didn't vibe with her short reddish-brown version. Said it made her look like Sakura with pale eyes. Lol, I get it. But isn't it just lovely?
Also... this Hinata doesn't wear an armband in my head, but since it looks hella fine in the art, I'm adding it! Thank you again, Kara!
Forestchee, yeah, sorry about that. I wasn't really gone. I just... didn't know what to write :D
To the rest of you (Vivian088, , I-Love-Thunks1, Manga-gl, santamaria1, Ghostxxx, Diana Marcela-Akemi, Legend Saint-14, XDXDD, Novid & Guests): Thank you for sharing your thoughts. Your reviews fuel me to keep going, because I know you're waiting to see what happens next.
This fic is me practicing my combat writing style (hence the arena), and... the smut part was just me trying something new (yeah, again). And I see you seem to like the smut part, haha. Let me know if you want it more explicit. I tried it before but had to scrap it because it felt like I was violating my mental image of them. Lol. Ja!
CHAPTER 04
The door to her quarters creaked shut behind her with a soft click. The sound barely registered.
Hinata walked in without removing her boots, her tunic streaked with dust and sweat, the armband from her match still wrapped around her forearm- until she tore it off and tossed it onto the edge of the bed like it burned her skin.
Her ribs throbbed. Her shoulder ached from the earlier block she took too late. Her palms still pulsed from that final strike.
She didn't care.
She moved to the back of the narrow room, past the flickering lantern, and into the attached washroom. The faucet squeaked as she turned the knob. Cold water poured from the rusted pipe, splattering across her hands and arms as she leaned forward, breathing through her nose.
She turned on the shower.
The pipes groaned overhead, but water fell- icy, sharp, jarring as it soaked through her clothes, past her collar, against her sore skin.
She stood beneath it fully clothed, unmoving.
The ache felt distant.
Mechanical.
Her hands lifted slowly and wiped the condensation from the cracked mirror hanging crookedly above the sink. Her reflection came into view- wet hair clinging to her cheeks, shadows beneath her eyes, bruises forming beneath soaked fabric. She looked smaller somehow. Not weak. But off-balance.
She stared at herself. Long and hard.
"You're better than this, Hinata," she whispered.
Her voice barely made a sound over the rush of the water.
"You're not here for him. You're not here for anyone."
The mirror said nothing.
She pressed her hand against the cold porcelain of the sink, letting her forehead drop forward slightly.
"You're on a mission," she said again, firmer this time. "You made the choice. You said it meant nothing. So it doesn't. Whatever Sasuke's doing... it's not your business."
Her stomach twisted anyway. That blond woman's eyes. The way she looked back at him. The way he followed.
It shouldn't matter.
But it did. Hinata closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath. One more. Another. And then, slowly, she stilled herself.
No more spiraling. No more feeling.
She turned off the water. Her body trembled once, quietly, as the cold began to bite at her skin. She peeled off her soaked tunic and wrapped herself in the towel beside the wall. Her hands moved on instinct- redressing, binding the bruises she could reach, brushing her hair back into place.
Midnight was coming. She had a meeting to attend. With someone who might be friend. Or enemy. And she couldn't afford to walk into that shadow carrying her heart where it didn't belong.
Again.
The arena had grown quieter by the time Hinata left her room.
Only the low thrum of distant chanting echoed through the lower halls. Some fight still going, or a bet being settled in blood. But the crowds had thinned, and the air had shifted. As if the Cage itself were sleeping with one eye open.
She kept to the edges, cloak drawn, steps silent against the stone.
Maki's directions had been specific. Back corridor. Smells like copper and burned herbs.
Hinata found it by instinct more than memory. The path sloped gently downward past two rusted metal gates and a broken torch sconce. The smell reached her before the doorway did- old blood and some kind of dried plant residue, pungent, earthy, sharp.
She stepped inside.
The room was small and dimly lit, a storage chamber repurposed into a meeting space. Crates lined one wall, and a thin trail of smoke drifted from a small dish of smoldering incense tucked near the door. Maki stood beside it, arms crossed, the edge of a dagger glinting faintly at her hip.
She didn't smile.
"You came," she said.
Hinata nodded. "You asked me to."
A pause stretched between them.
"Sit," Maki said finally, motioning to one of the crates.
Hinata obeyed, careful. Every movement slow, deliberate. She could feel the watchfulness behind the woman's gaze- like she was being weighed, piece by piece.
"I've been asking around," Maki said, voice low. "About you."
Hinata didn't speak.
"They say you're clean. Too clean. They say you don't talk. Don't drink. Don't lose."
A flick of her gaze.
"They also say you don't have a sponsor. You came alone."
Hinata met her eyes. "Is that a problem?"
"It's a question," Maki replied. "One you haven't answered."
Silence.
Then Hinata pulled the folded slip of paper from her sleeve- the one Maki had given her earlier.
She held it out.
"Your brother," she said quietly. "Does he have a scar just like you?"
Maki's expression didn't change. Not right away.
Then her hands closed slowly into fists at her sides.
"I knew it," she whispered. The words came out like a curse. "I knew they didn't sell him. I knew that bastard at the gate was lying."
Hinata didn't move. She let the silence hold space between them.
After a moment, Maki let out a breath and sat across from her, dropping onto the crate like her legs couldn't carry the weight anymore.
"Do you know what they're doing?"
Hinata hesitated. "Not yet. But I'm close."
Maki leaned forward.
"You want to burn it down?"
"Yes."
"Good." Her eyes glittered. "So do I."
The alliance formed without ceremony. No handshake. No vows. Just a shared truth between women who had both lost something to this place.
"You're going to win again," Maki said softly.
Hinata blinked. "I wasn't planning to."
"You don't get to choose anymore." She sounded tired. "You think they weren't watching? That last fight? That wasn't just a crowd's reaction. That was a signal."
"To who?"
"To the ones in the high tiers," Maki said. "The ones who pay to keep this place running. The ones who buy bodies like yours when they shine too bright."
Hinata stilled.
"You've been marked," Maki said. "We both have."
A long, heavy pause passed between them. Then Maki stood.
"Whatever you're planning," she said, "make it fast." She turned and left without another word.
And Hinata remained alone in the room thick with smoke and the scent of burned herbs, sitting on a crate in a place no one was supposed to walk away from.
Marked.
The word clung to her like a second skin. Like the bruises she hadn't bandaged yet. Like the ache she refused to give voice to.
She didn't regret winning. That wasn't the problem. The problem was that something inside her had wanted to. The sick feeling still sat low in her stomach. She hated that it had come from something so stupid, so human. A glance. A woman. A man walking up a staircase behind her. That was all it had taken to set her off.
You're better than this, she reminded herself again.
The mission came first.
It had to.
The path to the inn where Sasuke stayed was quiet. She moved quickly, cloak drawn up, avoiding the outer torches that dotted the upper walkways. Most of the fighters slept deeper underground. The inn, built into the outer cliff wall, was reserved for high-paying spectators. People who mattered.
And people who watched.
She focused on her breath. On each step. On the pattern of the stones beneath her feet. She tried not to think about his face. Or what she might say. Or if she even had the right to ask.
When she reached the door, she paused. The hall was still. She raised her hand to knock, but the door opened almost immediately.
Sasuke stood there in the low light, one arm braced against the frame, his shirt unbuttoned at the collar, hanging loosely on his frame. His hair was slightly damp, like he had just come from a rinse or needed to look less like himself.
His eyes swept over her once- sharp, unreadable. "You're late."
Hinata blinked. "I was careful," she said simply.
He stepped aside, letting her in without another word.
She moved past him, her fingers brushing against the inside of her sleeve where the paper with Maki's brother's name still rested. The warmth of the room hit her skin and made her pulse throb harder in her ears.
The door shut behind her with a soft thud, but Hinata didn't look at him.
She stood near the low table, her arms folded tightly under her cloak, shoulders straight, back rigid. The heat of the room pressed against her damp skin, but she didn't move to sit. Didn't even glance around.
There was so much to say. But first... she had to remember who she was in front of him. Not the girl in the ring. Not the one who flinched at the sight of a man following a woman. Just the shinobi Tsunade had chosen.
The inside hand of a two-part blade.
Sasuke watched her in silence for a moment before moving across the room and sitting. He said nothing.
"I met with Maki," she said curtly. Waiting for him to register the fighter's name before she continued. Her tone was low. Clipped. Controlled. "She gave me the name of her brother. The one who vanished after his fourth win." She still didn't look at him. "She thinks the Cage took him. That he's still here."
"I went to the chamber you traced," Sasuke replied, voice low and even. "The sealed one under the second tier."
Hinata's jaw clenched, but she nodded slightly.
"There were three capsules," he continued. "Three fighters. Drained, but alive. One wore a Konoha vest."
She looked past him- not at him. "One of them is her brother."
He nodded and went on. "I stayed hidden. Two men entered the room. One of them retrieved a file- yours."
Her breath caught, but she didn't move.
"They're watching you. Closely now."
Hinata's arms remained folded, but her fingers twitched under the fabric.
"Maki said I've been marked."
"You have."
Silence.
Hinata's throat worked. Then she asked, voice sharp, "What else did you find out?"
Sasuke's eyes narrowed slightly. "There's a wagon inbound. Eastern border. Could be more fighters. More subjects."
She finally glanced at him, briefly. Her expression was unreadable.
"I got the time and place," he added. "I'll intercept it."
Another beat of silence passed. The tension in the room thickened, but neither acknowledged it.
Then Sasuke spoke again.
"What's your plan?"
Hinata's mouth opened slightly, but no words came. Not yet. Because part of her wanted to scream. And the other part hadn't forgiven him for giving her a reason to.
She exhaled slowly, steadying the tight coil in her chest.
"To act as bait," she said finally. Her voice was quiet, but cold. Measured. "Someone has to draw them out. Someone has to see who's behind all this."
He didn't respond. The silence stretched between them, thick with everything left unsaid. She shifted slightly, adjusting the edge of her cloak as if to leave, but he spoke again- his voice low, sharp.
"What happened back there?"
She didn't answer.
"You were taking hits like a punching bag."
Hinata's eyes flicked toward the door. "I was planning to lose."
"Like that?" he scoffed. "Then why did you finish him off with one hit?"
His voice wasn't raised, but it cut anyway.
She said nothing.
"That wasn't tactical," he added, searching her face now. "That was impulsive. Irresponsible."
"I know," she said, voice flat. "It won't happen again."
He stared at her.
Hinata turned to leave. "If we're done talking, I'm leaving. Before someone notices I'm here."
She stepped toward the door, but before she could reach it, Sasuke moved. His hand closed around her arm.
Hinata recoiled instantly, the contact sending a shock through her chest- not from pain, but from the heat of it.
"Don't," she hissed. Her voice cracked like a whip. Her eyes snapped to his, wide and furious and burning beneath the surface. "Don't touch me with that filthy hand of yours."
The silence that followed was deafening. Sasuke didn't flinch. But his grip loosened. And once again in that room, the distance between them felt like a wound.
His eyes narrowed. "Filthy?"
She didn't answer him. She only glanced down, sharply, at the offending hand still on her arm. Her glare cut through him like a kunai laced with venom. Then her eyes rose- cold, defiant- and met his.
She didn't say a word. She didn't need to. She turned again and took a single step toward the door. Her hand had just curled around the handle when-
His hand pressed against the door above hers, firm but quiet, sealing it shut. The movement wasn't violent. Just final. Intentional. Hinata went still, her entire body tensing at his proximity. She didn't look at him.
"Care to explain yourself, Hyuuga?" His voice was low, calm but laced with something sharp. "Last time I checked, I just washed my hands."
"Move," she said coldly.
There was silence. Then Sasuke retreated and exhaled, slower than before. "We need to treat you."
She turned her head slightly.
"I'll get the ointment," he added and turned. "Sit."
A humorless laugh slipped from her lips- dry, sharp, far too bitter for her face.
Sasuke's eyes narrowed again. "What?"
Hinata didn't look at him. She stepped back from the door, slow and deliberate, her fingers curling at her sides.
"Nothing," she said. "Just wondering how fast you had to wash them. Before or after you followed that blonde upstairs."
The air snapped tight between them. Sasuke's breath caught, just slightly.
"You saw," he said, not asking. Realizing.
Her lips curled into something that wasn't quite a smile. "Yes. I did." Her voice was soft but it hissed like a blade dragged across stone. "And for the record," she added, "I don't care what you do in your free time. Sleep with whoever you want. Lose yourself however you like." She looked up then. And her eyes burned. "But we're on a mission. And the least you can do is keep it in your pants."
Sasuke turned back to her slowly, his arms folded across his chest as he stared her down, expression unreadable, sharp-edged and composed, but his eyes weren't calm. They moved over her face like he was trying to take her apart with nothing but his gaze.
And Hinata met it. Head-on.
He narrowed his eyes. That's new. Most people would have flinched by now. Looked away. Apologized. Bent under the weight of his scrutiny. But not her. She was glaring at him like she wanted to claw his eyes out.
Her chest rose and fell beneath her cloak, breath sharp, lips slightly parted, and her cheeks were flushed- not from embarrassment, but fury. Pure, white-hot fury that she had no right to feel, and felt anyway.
"You're acting like I dragged her upstairs to bed," Sasuke said flatly.
Hinata's jaw tightened.
"You followed her," she shot back. "You didn't even blink."
"I needed information," he replied, voice low. "She's frequented by one of the two men I overheard. The ones who took your file. She talks when she's paid... or intimidated."
"You think that makes it better?" Her voice cracked, sharper now, like the leash on her composure was snapping fiber by fiber. "We're being watched. Every step, every eye. If you make one mistake, it's not just your life that ends-"
He took a step toward her. "Nothing happened."
Hinata's breath hitched.
Sasuke kept going, slow, deliberate, until they were close again. Too close. Her back hit the door before she realized she hadn't moved.
"I didn't touch her," he said, voice lower now, and the air between them thinned. "I don't want her."
She stared up at him, lips parting, expression cracking just slightly. Then he tilted his head, just a little, and his eyes dropped to her lips. Her breath caught. Not because she was afraid. But because she wasn't.
"Tell me," he said softly.
Her brows knit. "What?"
"Do you really not care what I do in my free time?"
Hinata opened her mouth and nothing came out. Because she couldn't. Not without lying.
His hand pressed lightly against the door beside her, not touching her this time, but framing her in. His posture maddeningly still but she could feel it. The tension. The heat. The restrained ache in the way his voice had lowered like it was scraping through the walls he'd built too tightly.
"You can hate me for following her," he said. "You can hate me for what I did or what you thought I did."
A pause.
"But don't stand here and pretend it didn't affect you."
Her hand trembled. She clenched her fist to hide it. And when she looked up again, her voice was barely audible. "Why do you always do this..."
Sasuke leaned in, just enough to make her heart stop. "Do what?"
She swallowed hard, eyes burning. "Get under my skin."
A heartbeat passed between them. Then another. And then... he murmured, so close her breath caught again-
"Because you're already under mine."
And then-
He kissed her.
Hard.
No hesitation. No softness. Just months of silence shattering between them. His mouth crashed into hers like a storm breaking open. Hands cupped her face, pulled her in, dragged her under. She gasped, and he swallowed the sound, deepening the kiss as if he was trying to burn the memory of that blonde woman straight out of her mind.
She fisted his shirt, dragging him closer, and closer still. Her nails digging into his chest as her back hit the door again with a muffled thud. His body pressed against hers, solid and overwhelming and too much, and not enough.
"Stop," she whispered into his mouth. "We shouldn't-"
He kissed her harder. And she kissed him back. It wasn't careful. It wasn't pretty. It was fiery. It was ugly with want. It was everything they weren't allowed to want... poured into a moment neither of them could control.
His hand slid down her waist, gripping her hip like he hated the layers of fabric between them. She moaned into him before she could stop herself, and that sound- that sound- broke something inside him.
He pulled back just an inch, breathing hard, lips red, eyes stormy.
"This is what happens," he said lowly, voice wrecked, "when you glare at me like you want to kill me."
Hinata's fingers still fisted in his shirt.
"This is what happens," she whispered back, "when you follow other women upstairs."
They stared at each other. And then he kissed her again. She could feel herself slipping. Her breath wasn't steady anymore, her knees weak, her will unraveling like thread pulled too tight. The anger was still there, but now it sat tangled with something deeper. Something hotter. Something that had been building between them from the moment she first traced a message into his palm.
Sasuke broke the kiss first, but only to breathe. His forehead rested against hers, their noses brushing, breath mingling, and his voice came out low... gravel laced with restraint. "I didn't touch her."
Hinata clenched her jaw. "I know," she whispered.
He pulled back just far enough to see her eyes. "I wouldn't."
"I know," she said again, softer this time. But her voice trembled. Because even knowing wasn't enough to stop the way her chest burned. The way she ached. "You're driving me insane," she breathed.
Sasuke's hand slid up, fingers threading into her hair. Not rough. Not harsh. Just enough to tilt her head back as his lips brushed the underside of her jaw.
"You've already driven me past that."
Then, his hand moved lower. Over her ribs. Her waist. The edge of her thigh. Not hurried. Not groping. Just claiming. As if every inch of her body was already his and he was just reminding her of it.
Hinata's breath hitched sharply.
He leaned in again, this time slower. His mouth skimmed her cheek, then her temple.
"I think about that night," he said into her skin. "More than I should."
Hinata squeezed her eyes shut.
"I said it didn't mean anything," she whispered.
He pulled back again, only an inch, but the intensity in his gaze pinned her in place. "You lied."
She didn't deny it. She couldn't. And when his mouth crushed into hers again, slower this time, more deliberate, she didn't fight him. She kissed him back like it was all she'd wanted to do since that night. Like she hated him. Like she needs to consume him or die trying. Fingers fisted in his shirt, breath catching between gasps and teeth.
Sasuke responded with a low growl in his throat. He kissed her like he was starving, like she was water and he hadn't drunk in years. His tongue demanded, forced her lips apart. He drank the sound of her gasp, swallowed the soft whimper she let out as he devoured her right there, pushing her harder against the door, as if the walls themselves might have held him back if he let them.
Her hand tangled in his hair- soft, damp, too long- and pulled.
He cursed under his breath. "Hinata-"
"Don't talk," she panted against his mouth.
He didn't. He lifted her instead.
Her legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, her cloak falling in a heap at their feet as her back pressed to the door and he carried her across the room in staggered steps, mouths never parting.
She hadn't recognized this version of herself... clawing his shoulders, moaning into his neck, shoving off his shirt like it offended her. He'd been hot under it. Broad. Unforgiving. And when she slipped her hand under his shirt, her fingers pressed into muscle like she was trying to prove he was real.
They crashed into the table. Papers scattered. He grabbed her thighs and lifted her onto it, pushing her knees apart, groaning low when her breath hitched at the friction.
"I hate how good this feels," she whispered.
Sasuke kissed her again, rougher now, deeper. She whined into it, her body arching, hands tugging at his shirt until he pulled away just long enough to rip it open.
He leaned in, forehead to hers, panting.
"You're going to hate what happens next," he growled.
Then he dragged her shirt over her head and carried her to the bed like he couldn't stand to have her anywhere else.
The mattress creaked under their weight as he lowered her, his chest brushing hers, his breath rough against her neck. The world was dim around them, only the lantern flickering in the corner, casting broken shadows across skin and cloth and eyes that refused to look away.
He stripped off his shirt with one fluid motion, the fabric whispering over muscle before hitting the floor.
Hinata's hands were on him instantly: pulling him down, dragging him into her again, her mouth finding his, wild, impatient, desperate.
She bit his lip.
Hard.
"Sasuke, please," she whispered.
He groaned, the sound raw, unfiltered. But then he stopped. She felt it first in the way his hand cupped her jaw. Gentle. Steady. His body hovered over hers, heat radiating between them like they were still fighting not to burn.
And then his voice came, low, hoarse, but clear. "No."
Hinata blinked up at him, breath trembling. "What-?"
He looked at her then. Really looked. His hand trailed down her bruised shoulder, fingers sliding over her bare skin, reverent in a way that made her freeze.
"Let me look at you," he murmured, his eyes moving all over her. "I need to see you. All of you."
Like she was something he refused to rush. Something he'd dreamed about. Needed to memorize. Her throat tightened. No one had ever looked at her like that. Like she was his. She watched him hover above her: bare-chested, lips swollen, eyes dark with restraint that bordered on agony. He was waiting. Touching her like she was a secret he didn't dare uncover too fast.
His fingertips traced her skin, tenderly. Eyes moving over her like he was trying to memorize everything. She could feel the storm behind his stillness- the tension, the ache, the things he wasn't saying but couldn't hide.
And it burned her.
She tugged him down by his waistband. Not hard. Just enough. Her mouth brushed his ear.
"Please... I can't wait anymore," she whispered.
And that was all it took for Sasuke's restraint to shatter.
He crushed his mouth to hers with a groan torn straight from his chest, dragging her back up against him as if there was no distance he could stand. His hands were everywhere. Rough now, claiming, gripping her thighs, her hips, sliding up her back as if he couldn't get close enough.
She arched into him, gasping into his kiss, nails scraping down his spine, her legs wrapping tight around him like her body was making decisions before her mind could catch up.
"Hinata," he growled into her throat, biting down on the soft spot below her ear. "You don't know what you're doing to me."
"Yes, I do," she breathed, voice breaking.
His hands tore at the last of her clothes, mouth following every inch of skin he revealed- biting, kissing, dragging his teeth down the curve of her neck, her chest, her stomach. She was trembling by the time he settled between her legs, and still he hesitated. His breath heavy against her inner thigh, his hand stroking up her waist.
"Last chance," he whispered hoarsely. "Tell me to stop."
She looked down at him, eyes glazed, body burning.
"Don't you dare," she said.
And then there were no more words. Only sound. Only movement. Only the bed shifting beneath them, and the gasps she couldn't swallow, and the low curses he breathed into her skin as he moved inside her like he didn't care if the whole damn Cage heard it.
It wasn't gentle. It wasn't slow. It was fire and noise and the sound of flesh on flesh, his name falling from her lips like a broken prayer, over and over and over.
Sasuke was everywhere. His mouth, his hands, his body pinning hers down like she'd disappear if he let go.
And she was answering him in kind. Moving with him. Matching him. Breaking for him. Because in that moment, there was nothing else.
No mission. No lies. No bruises.
Only this.
Only them.
The room was still now. Only the rise and fall of breath filled the air. Sasuke lay half over her, one arm curved around her waist, their bodies still tangled in sheets kicked halfway to the floor.
Hinata stared at the ceiling. Her lips were swollen. Her skin flushed. Her body still trembled in the places he'd touched her- hard, reverent, like he had to carve her into memory. And for a moment... for a single, terrifying moment-
She almost reached for him.
But then she remembered herself. She moved. Quietly, carefully, like if she was fast enough she wouldn't feel the way her chest pulled when the warmth of his body left hers.
She sat up with her back to him and pulled the blanket around her shoulders, even though her skin still burned. Her clothes were scattered across the room. Her hands shook as she reached for them.
Behind her, Sasuke stirred.
"Hinata," he said, low.
She didn't turn. There was silence.
And then, his voice again... rough, unfinished. "Say it meant something."
She froze. The words hit her like a strike to the chest- too honest, too much.
She swallowed hard, shoulders tight. Then, coldly, sharply: "It didn't."
Sasuke sat up slowly, and she could feel him watching her.
Hinata forced her arms into her top. Her hands trembled as she fastened it.
"What we did... what just happened," she said, voice clipped, "It was... blowing off steam. That's what people call it, right?"
Silence.
Sasuke's jaw clenched. His voice was quiet but dangerous. "Do you even hear yourself right now?"
Hinata turned slightly, just enough to meet his eyes. They were burning. And it hurt. It hurt, because part of her wanted to go back. To curl into his chest and breathe the word she refused to say.
But she couldn't. Because she couldn't afford to feel this way. Not again. Not after Naruto. So she looked him in the eye and lied. "There's nothing between us, Sasuke."
Her voice was ice. Polished. Empty. "There never was."
She turned. Cloak half-draped over her shoulder, hand already reaching for the door. And she didn't even make it three steps.
SLAM.
His palm hit the door again, just above her head before she could touch it, hard enough to shake the frame this time. The sound cracked through the silence like a whip, and the force made her flinch but she didn't move away. Not this time.
Sasuke stood behind her, too close, breath sharp and controlled like he was still on the edge of battle.
The silence was searing.
His voice dropped low behind her ear. Furious, ragged, betrayed.
"You really expect me to believe that?"
She didn't answer. Her fingers curled into fists at her sides, jaw locked tight.
"You want to pretend it meant nothing?" he went on, quieter now, but no less brutal. "Then look at me when you lie to me."
She didn't move. Didn't blink. So he moved closer. The warmth of his chest brushed her back, his hand pressing against the door just inches from her temple.
"You let me in," he said, voice rougher now. "You begged me not to stop. You-"
"Stop," she breathed.
But it wasn't strong. It cracked.
"I heard you," he said. "I felt you."
Her shoulders trembled. His other hand came up slowly, hovering near her arm but not touching her yet.
"You think I'm that easy to forget? You think this is something you walk away from twice?"
Hinata shut her eyes tightly. "Don't-"
"I won't," he said, jaw clenched. "Because you're lying. And you know it."
She whirled on him then, cloak almost falling off her shoulder, eyes burning.
"Of course I'm lying!" she snapped. Her voice cracked like thunder in the small room.
Sasuke's eyes widened.
"What do you want me to say, Sasuke?" Her words came fast now, bitter and trembling. "That it meant something? That I felt something?"
Her hands clenched into fists at her sides.
"What do you expect me to do? Pretend we're lovers now? That we're something more than two people who couldn't keep their hands off each other?"
He didn't answer.
"We had sex," she said. "It felt good. That's all. Isn't that what you wanted, too?"
The silence in the room roared. Sasuke stared at her. Face unreadable, lips parted like he wanted to speak, but couldn't.
"Don't look at me like I'm the one breaking something," she hissed. "You knew what this was."
She shoved his hand off the door. This time, he didn't stop her. She walked out without looking back, cloak dragging behind her, shoulders stiff.
And Sasuke stood there, fists clenched, jaw locked. The woman who just tore him apart wasn't trying to be cruel. She was trying not to be destroyed.
He watched as the door clicked shut.
And she was gone.
Again.
He stood there, still naked, still breathless, still burning.
The air felt heavier now. Her scent still lingered in the room- on the sheets, on his skin, in his mouth. It should have faded by now, but it clung to him, like her voice. Like her words.
"We had sex. That's all. Isn't that what you wanted, too?"
He exhaled through his nose, slow and sharp, and dragged his hand down his face.
No.
That's not what he wanted.
It had never been.
But how the hell was he supposed to say that? How was he supposed to look her in the eye and tell her that since that night, that one night, she'd been stuck in his thoughts like a kunai embedded in bone?
He hadn't known what it meant at first.
The way he started lingering near her matches.
The way he watched for her file on the mission roster.
The way his chest tightened when she didn't show up.
And then when she did- bruised and breathless, standing in the ring like she belonged to no one- he felt something twist in his stomach. Something ugly. Something possessive.
He hated it. But he couldn't stop it. Just like he couldn't stop the way she'd looked at him tonight. Like she wanted him. Needed him. And then denied it like it never happened.
"You knew what this was."
He scoffed under his breath and slammed his fist into the doorframe. The wood cracked.
What was this? She thought it was about sex. She thought he followed the blonde for pleasure. She had no idea what it cost him to touch someone like her. To let her go. To need her.
And she threw it away like it was nothing.
Liar.
He saw it.
In the way she moaned his name when she came. In the way her nails raked his back like she couldn't get close enough. In the way she kissed him- desperate, furious, starving. She wanted him. Maybe not all of him. Maybe not the mess that came with his name, his past, his silence. But his body?
Fuck. There was no question. He saw the way her thighs clenched around him. The way she whimpered when he slowed down. The way she trembled afterward, trying to pretend her world hadn't just cracked wide open.
It was clear as day.
She wanted him. And she hated herself for it.
He exhaled, running a hand through his hair, pacing the edge of the bed like a caged animal. Not minding how he was still naked. His blood was still hot, his muscles still tense, and his mind wouldn't stop replaying the way she looked at him before she walked out.
Like she was begging him to let her go. So she didn't fall. And he didn't know what pissed him off more: That she left. Or that he let her.
His jaw clenched as he stared at the broken splinters in the wood. The silence rang louder than any crowd.
What he wanted... he didn't even have the words for it. But it wasn't one night. And it sure as hell wasn't forgettable.
It was her.
Just... her.
And now she was gone again.
And this time?
She didn't walk out of his bed.
She walked out of him.