Chapter Text
The Anbu captain hadn’t regained consciousness. Sakura checking his vitals again. Nothing had worsened. She pulled the blanket up to his shoulders with quiet care, her fingers lingering for a moment before she stepped away.
She returned to her office, trying to focus. But ever since his hospitalization, her thoughts kept drifting. She’d been giving Captain Hyuuga more attention than she meant to—more than she let herself admit. His good looks caught her eye again during rounds, His features stayed proud, even in sleep. She’d made a few extra notes on his chart, just to stay close.
He’d returned from the mission in critical condition. The medic team had rushed him to the ER, and Sakura had dropped everything to answer the emergency call. The moment she saw him—pale, still, barely breathing—fear gripped her chest.
She remembered the war. The way he’d thrown himself into danger without hesitation. That image never left her.
His skin had turned ashen. His breath stopped. The cursed seal disappeared. Wooden spikes had pierced deep into his back. With steady hands, Sakura had cut into him, blood soaked her gloves, her chakra precise. Hours passed in the operating room before they stabilized him. Then, just as she removed the final rod, his body convulsed—and his heart began to beat again.
Tasukatta… Kamisama, arigatou.
The seal was gone. He was free. When he revived, his kekkei genkai shifted into the Tenseigan. She’d thought of Sasuke then. Both of them cold, powerful, admired. Both carrying burdens no one else could see.
After the war, Sasuke had served a short sentence. His help during the conflict earned him leniency, and he left to seek redemption. Sakura had let go of the pain he caused. She’d forgiven him. That was a year ago.
Sakura jumped slightly at the touch on her shoulder and turned to find Ino grinning like she’d caught her in the act.
“Oh, Captain Hyuuga,” the blonde said looking at the medical chart on her desk.
Sakura’s face went red in an instant. “Don’t start,” she muttered.
“Thinking about your favorite Anbu again?”
“I wasn’t!”
“Sure, sure. But those blushes say otherwise. And why didn’t you tell me? I’m your best friend! I knew it before you did.”
“Ugh, you’re impossible,” Sakura groaned.
Her friendship with Neji had grown steadily over the years. Kakashi-sensei, the Rokudaime, had made it mandatory for every team to include a medic, and that decision had brought her and Neji into regular contact. He’d become someone she could talk to—really talk to—right after Nara.
They bumped into each other at festivals, meetings, training grounds, and casual hangouts. Even when seated far apart at group dinners, Sakura always noticed him. They sparred together, grabbed lunch, and sometimes she dragged him along for errands. Thinking back, she couldn’t help but smile.
“That’s so cute,” Ino said, clearly enjoying this.
“I think I like him,” Sakura admitted. She missed him when he was away. She talked about his quiet strength, his loyalty, and how she’d poured herself into helping him heal.
“There’s something real,” she said. “But I’m scared to name it.”
Ino nodded. “You two are close. Maybe closer than you realize.”
“He never said anything.”
“Maybe he’s scared too. You could change that.”
“What if he’s not interested? He’s never been into romance.”
“Is this about Sasuke?” Ino asked. “You need to talk. Don’t let the past cloud the present.”
“I’m not sure I’m ready,” Sakura whispered.
“You’ll love again,” Ino said with a soft smile. “Don’t let Sasuke’s shadow dim your light.”
“But what if—”
“No more what-ifs,” Ino cut in. “He’s never shown interest in anyone before. This is your chance. Back then, he was arrogant and harsh. I seriously hated how he treated Hinata-chan—but he’s changed. He’s loyal, dependable, and let’s be real... kind of a total catch!”
Sakura smiled, her heart lighter. “I like him for who he is. That’s enough.”
“Exactly,” Ino said. “Just think about it.”
After a long shift in the ER, Sakura stopped by his room. The steady beeping of the monitor calmed her nerves—his heartbeat was strong. Fatigue settled into her bones, but seeing him made it easier to breathe.
She reached out, brushing her fingers along his face. From the center of his brow to the bridge of his nose, down to the delicate curve of his lips—her touch was slow, careful. Her fingers paused at his dry lower lip.
Then, without meaning to, she leaned in and kissed him. It was brief, soft, and enough to moisten his lips. When she pulled back, her face turned red.
She hadn’t meant for it to happen. Maybe it was the long shift, the quiet of the room, or maybe it was the feeling she’d been trying to ignore—the quiet pull in her chest every time she saw him. It had been growing for weeks.
After checking his vitals one last time, Sakura leaned forward and rested her head on her arms. The soft beeping of the monitor and his steady presence eased her nerves. She closed her eyes, and for the first time that day, her breathing settled into peace.
Neji woke to the quiet hum of the hospital room, the battlefield still echoing in his mind. Moonlight filtered through the open balcony door, casting soft shadows across the floor. A breeze stirred the curtains—cool and steady.
His body ached as he sat up. Bandages wrapped tightly around his torso, and the blanket had slipped low. He winced and stilled.
His gaze drifted—and landed on pink hair, resting against his bed.
Sakura. Her pink hair spilled across the edge of his bed, her head resting on her arms. He recognized her instantly.
No one else had that shade of pink. No one else made him feel this way. She was asleep, close enough to touch.
He didn’t remember when he started noticing her hair. Or when it became something he looked for. He reached out, brushing a strand from her face. His fingers lingered on her cheek, drawn to the softness.
She stirred at his touch, green eyes fluttering open. “N-Neji!”
He was startled by the way she said his name—soft, without formality. No honorific. Just him.
“You’re awake,” she breathed, her voice trembling with relief.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured, pulling his hand back.
She caught it gently, guiding it back to her cheek. “It’s alright.”
Her touch grounded him. Her presence calmed him.
“You’ve been out for two weeks,” she said. “How do you feel?”
“Just a headache,” he replied, coughing lightly.
“Where does it hurt? Middle or sides?” the medic asked, already scanning his face. She muttered a few possibilities, her medic instincts kicking in. “I’ll need to run a full check.”
Before she could move away, Neji wrapped his arm around her shoulder, pulling her close.
Sakura froze for a moment, then returned the embrace with care, mindful of his injuries. Her tension melted.
“It’s fine, Sakura. Just a little pain.”
His voice was low, calming. Neji rested his head beside hers, offering comfort. He wasn’t used to this—someone staying close without obligation. Someone choosing to be there.
Over the years, they’d grown familiar. He’d started attending their friends’ gatherings more often, just to see her. Sitting across the long table, watching her talk and laugh—it became a quiet comfort.
Sakura often reached out to him for work-related matters, but their conversations always drifted into something softer. He remembered every sparring sessions that left them breathless, every time she dragged him to the market, how she’d nudge him toward lunch when he forgot to eat.
She was a steady presence in his life. One he’d come to rely on.
But he’d always been reserved. Careful. Even after the war, after nearly dying, he hadn’t found the courage to speak. He didn’t make promises without meaning them.
Neji didn’t know what to say. He just knew that her presence made the pain easier to bear. He wanted to say something. Anything. But the words caught in his throat. He didn’t want to risk the quiet closeness they’d built.
“What were you thinking?” Sakura murmured, her voice shaking. “Anta baka ja nai? I thought… I lost you again.”
Her words hit him harder than any injury. It felt like more than worry. Was there something more waiting beneath the surface? Maybe he’d been too careful for too long.
He held her close, unsure how to respond. And she didn’t pull away.
“Gomen ne,” he said softly, apologizing without knowing how to make it enough.
Her fingers brushed his cheek before they parted, her touch lingering longer than she realized.
“I’m fine,” he said, but her eyes didn’t believe him. Staring into his mesmerizing white eyes, her eyes held him, steady and warm. His face was only inches away from hers, and he didn’t back away. The man’s fair complexion didn’t detract from his undeniable handsomeness.
She leaned back quickly, cheeks flushed, when she noticed how close they were.
Then she noticed he’d sat up.
“Trying to sneak out of bed?” she scolded, half worried, half amused.
He blinked, caught in the act. She moved with ease, guiding him back down, adjusting his pillow with practiced care.
“Drink this,” she said, handing him a small cup. “And don’t even think about getting up. There will be consequences.”
“Oh?” he asked, voice low. “What kind of consequences?”
Her cheeks turned pink. “You’ll find out.” She paused at the door. “Hiashi-sama’s planning to visit once you’re up.”
Neji sighed. His uncle’s stare was never easy.
He nodded, watching her leave. Her footsteps faded down the hallway. Her footsteps faded into the hallway. He drank the medicine and let sleep take over.
(Three month later)
Neji paused on his walk back to the lodgings, drawn to the night sky above Suna. He’d been on nonstop missions since recovering. The evening air felt unusually gentle, two stars gleamed—close, but still divided by the Milky Way. Tanabata was near, a time for reunions and quiet wishes.
The diplomatic mission had gone as planned. Each member of the Konoha team represented a key unit, though Neji respected the Rokudaime’s decision to send him, he would’ve preferred something less social. Still, if it served peace, he wouldn’t complain.
The desert had drained him. The heat was relentless, the dryness clinging to his skin and hair. By the final week, he felt brittle—inside and out. But more than the physical wear, he missed her. That pink-haired kunoichi who hadn’t left his mind since the day he departed.
With the mission complete, he boarded the first train home. As the terrain shifted from sand to green, the sight of the Hokage monuments brought a quiet sense of relief. The sentries greeted him with nods and quiet pride. He returned the gesture and slipped into the village—right into the heart of the street.
Konoha was glowing. The Tanabata festival was underway, its story of star-crossed lovers woven into every lantern and banner. Vendor stalls were still being set up, and the air buzzed with anticipation. Prominent clans mingled with locals in celebration.
As second heir to his clan, Neji was expected to attend. He didn’t mind the tradition, but the matchmaking undertones made him uneasy. His uncle had tried to arrange meetings, but Neji declined. He’d make his own choices—when the time felt right.
He glided across the rooftops, landing quietly at the Hokage Tower to deliver his report. As he exited, someone blocked his path.
Long blonde ponytail. Confident stance. Bright blue eyes.
“Got a second?”
Back in his quarters at the Hyuuga compound, Neji stood under the shower, letting the hot water run down his body, lost in thought.
Ino’s words lingered. If he wasn’t serious about Sakura, he should let her go. But if he was—then he needed to act. “Don’t be a coward,” she’d said bluntly.
He wanted to confess. He just didn’t know how to translate feeling into words.
Sakura never seemed to mind his quiet nature. She liked being around him, and their friendship had always felt natural. Sometimes, he slipped—his actions too tender, too telling. But he always pulled back before she noticed.
It wasn’t rejection he feared. Not exactly. It was the reality of their lives—the uncertainty, the distance, the possibility of not returning. He’d buried his feeling deep, just to keep things steady.
But maybe Ino was right. Regret was its own kind of pain.
Tomorrow night, he’d have a chance. A moment to be honest. A chance to reclaim the time he’d let pass.
After his shower, he wrapped a towel around his waist and padded into the living room. Another towel hung around his neck as he dried his hair.
He was calm in battle, composed in meetings. Surely he could handle dating the girl he liked.
He took a breath, picked up his phone, and dialed her number.
Sakura had barely kicked off her shoes before collapsing onto the couch, dinner forgotten on the coffee table. Her shift had been brutal, her body aching, but her heart stirred the moment his name lit up her screen.
(Incoming call… Hyuuga Neji)
She answered without hesitation, slipping in her earpods. “Hi.”
His voice came through low and smooth, like warm silk. Just one word, it made her forget the chaos of the day.
“Hi,” she replied, glancing at the clock. Half past nine.
“How was your day?” he asked, the sound of a glass clinking in the background.
She smiled, her shoulders relaxing. He wasn’t a talker, but with her, he tried. And that effort made her heart ache in the best way.
“Hectic,” she admitted. “I’m wiped out.”
“Tell me about it,” he said, settling in.
They chatted easily. She told him about the patients, the drama, the exhaustion. He listened, offering quiet sympathy and the occasional dry humor that made her laugh. And he shared a few stories from his mission. His voice was steady, calming, and somehow, it made her feel less tired.
“So… what are you doing now?” she asked, her tone light.
A beat passed before he replied, then a soft sound shuffle on the other end.
“…Just got out of the shower, drying my hair,” he said, voice low and unhurried.
She pressed her lips together, grateful he couldn’t see the blush blooming across her face.
“Well… don’t let me rush you,” she murmured, trying to sound casual.
She could practically hear the smirk in his silence.
Her mind painted the image before she could stop it—damp hair, towel slung low, skin still warm. She tucked her legs under her, trying not to smile too obviously. His voice had a subtle pull tonight—unhurried, intimate. It made her feel like he was closer than he really was. It made her want to stay on the line forever.
“Did you call just to hear about my day?” she teased.
“Partly,” he said. “But I also wanted to ask something.”
“Go ahead.”
“The Star Festival’s tomorrow,” he said. “Naruto’s going with Hinata-sama. I’m not chaperoning anyone this year.”
Her heart skipped.
“Finally free,” she teased. “We should celebrate.”
“Do you have a date?”
It was an awkward invitation—but sweet and so unmistakably him. She smiled into the phone, letting the warmth settle in her chest.
“Nope,” she said, hoping he’d ask.
“That’s hard to believe.”
“Remember last year? Your fan club nearly caused a riot.”
He laughed. “I think that was your crowd.”
“Please,” she laughed.
“So… would you like me to accompany you?” he asked, voice softer now. “I’ll shield you from the crowd.”
“Only if you’re okay with bringing me along.”
She hesitated. “People might think we’re more than friends.”
“If that’s not what you want, don’t feel pressured.”
“I didn’t mean it like that,” she said quickly. “I‘d love to.”
His voice softened. “Should I pick you up?”
“Let’s meet at 7pm. My place.”
After the call ended, she lay back against the cushions, staring at the ceiling. Her cheeks were still warm. Her heart still racing.