Work Text:
She gazed upward, her eyes tracing the languid dance of the clouds, drifting gently across the vast expanse above.
In the past, she had whiled away countless hours stretched upon the earth, entranced by their slow procession.
The heavens would shift in hues, bathed in the golden warmth of day or the cool twilight blues, while the breeze would turn crisp, kissing her skin with a chill that tugged at her cheeks. Yet, in the distance, a voice would break the tranquil spell—calling, reprimanding, pulling her from her reverie with an impatient grasp.
At night, she would stand by her window, gazing up, attempting once more to find the moon among the shifting clouds. The sight of the heavens above filled her with a sense of wonder—magical, soothing, constant, eternal.
Now, she had touched the moon herself.
It was as intimidating as Earth ever was.
Perhaps there was no place for her in this world, a thought she’d carried since childhood—one she had pushed aside when she became a ninja. Yet, it resurfaced, lingering in her mind after the loss of her cousin.
She had always needed something to steer her, to propel her forward—a purpose, a spark of inspiration. She clung to invisible threads that kept her tethered, guiding her like the clouds drifting overhead.
But recently, those threads seemed to loosen. What would it be like, she wondered, below the Earth? Would the answers finally come into focus?
"Hinata-sama!"
She follows. It’s all she ever does.
[...]
As a girl, all she ever wanted was to please. She thinks, that's still something she can let go of. She wants to please, never to bother.
Neji would say that's impossible to achieve.
Neji used to be very honest and upfront. She always appreciated. Her family was cruel, but with layers of irony and passive aggressiveness. She couldn't keep up. But Neji, he was direct with the blows. Figuratively and literally.
She misses him more as time passes. People tell her it gets better.
Three years have passed, and it only gets worse.
His grave is clean and she always gives him more flowers. They die, of course. She hates the sight of it.
Something so pretty should live forever.
[...]
Her boyfriend is back and she feels ashamed of how she wants to hide from him.
She spent her life watching him, cheering for him, wishing he could achieve his goals — in the absence of her own —, praying he stayed safe from all his self-sacrificing ways.
She dreamed of Naruto as one dreams of space, never actually believing they will reach it.
To call him her boyfriend back then, it would make her whole face burn. She would avert her eyes and stutter. The innocent, childish thought of holding his hand would have her kicking her legs in her bedroom.
Realistically, Naruto was never someone she thought she would captivate. Not enough to call him anything other than her friend — and even that, a friend like his neighbors were friends, like every living being gracing his present was a friend. He was like that, inviting, caring, a heart to big for the village.
She was satisfied, always had been, with being a precious comrade who could save his life as much as he saved hers by being warm as the sun, shining on her with invigorating light.
After the war, he followed her around a lot. He told her things that made her mind spin in the silence of her compound. He touched her hair, held her hand, looked in her eyes for too long for it to be unintentional.
She hid from him and his intentions. It weighed too much. She couldn't breathe around him. She had her grief to carry, her household to handle, and she had buried her hopes before she even acknowledge what love meant for her.
She never expected anything back from him. She feared it, even.
"Hi." He was standing in front of her, mission clothes with layers of dirt, blond hair longer and wilder than ever. He was gorgeous, always, and now she could call him hers. It felt selfish.
"Hello." She offered a shy smile, not knowing what to do with herself.
They were inseparable during the weeks after the moon mission, and then suddenly he had to go to the Land of Iron, for seven weeks. There was an awkward distance between them now. Or maybe she was the one creating it, by being frozen on the spot with her hands intertwined.
"Sorry I'm all dirty." He laughed, lifting his hand to his nape, clearly embarrassed.
He was cute.
She felt instantly annoyed with her previous behavior.
"I don't mind." She didn't. She moved close to him, arms circling his waist, her cheek against his chest, not caring about the shower she had just taken.
He responded immediately, enthusiastically, wrapping his arms around her lifting her off the ground. She giggled, he smiled against her neck, planting a kiss there right after.
"I love you." He whispered, and she was always surprised by the words.
"I love you too."
She could almost forget the sirens in her head.
[...]
It was an afternoon when she went to the market with the excuse to buy ingredients to make sweets for the kids in the orphanage. She already had them at home.
She just needed some decompressing time. She needed to be away from all the people who knew her.
A group of loud, young girls were forming a circle next to her. She didn't think much of it, she spend her life avoid large groups of people. She quickly became overwhelmed and paranoid when there were too many people around.
"I still don't get it. I know they were friends..." One of the girls, a tall brunette with an accent Hinata couldn't pinpoint, commented. "But the whole dating thing was so suddenly. He wasn't exactly declining other girls advances and presents before."
"I mean, he didn't look interested in them either." The girl next to her shrugged. "I don't know, I think you're overanalyzing it too much because you have a crush on him."
"I just don't think he likes her like that."
"I don't think you know him like that." The smaller girl rolled her eyes.
"She liked him since forever too. Maybe that's why he chose her." A red-headed argued. "Or, I don't know. And I don't care. Move on, Matsuki-chan."
The girl whined, tapping her feet in annoyance as the others laughed at her.
Hinata remained with her head down, buying what she needed, and quickly making her way home while her stomach dropped.
Her anxiety was building up, threatening to spill something out of her. She walked faster, almost running.
She liked him since forever. Maybe that's why he chose her.
Hinata knew, deep down, Naruto would never be inconsiderate and dishonest. He would never settle down with someone out of pity, would never force himself to feel what he didn't.
She knew that. She knew him.
She couldn’t stop crying, as silent as her tears were.
Maybe not intentionally, but why did he even love her? When was she ever loved except for when she was thrown at people, bound to them by blood or inserted in their space out of duty?
She never had anything to offer. She was barely interesting. It wasn't self pity, but the naked truth. She never allowed herself to be unaware of her shortcomings, and how they amounted to most of her.
She thinks the best of Naruto. She thinks enough of herself.
Arriving to the gates of the Hyuga compound, she realizes she's stuck in a dream. It's easy to get lost in his kisses and promises and smiles. He's easy to love. He loves easily.
She needs to cut her strings. She needs to be something she loves so she can understand, and face, what others truly feel for her.
She runs in the opposite direction, and by the time she's standing on his door, her face is dry.
She knocks on his door.
Just the sight of his face and the grin he gives her is almost enough to have her throwing herself at him, asking forgiveness for even thinking of parting ways. Who would give him up once they had him?
"I was about to go see you."
She smiled to mask the way her mouth trembled.
"Can I come in?" She asked, shifting her weight.
"No, stand there in the cold." He smiled while he said it, grabbing her waist and bring her inside.
While he close the door behind her, she tried to get her breathing under control.
"Do you want something to eat? Or we could go out too. I'm starving." He was walking around, unaware of her nervous demeanor, looking for something in the kitchen.
She cleared her throat, a shaky breath escaping her lips. "I... I need to talk to you."
He raised an eyebrow, his expression darkening with concern as he moved closer. His hands brushed lightly against her arms, sending a ripple of sensation through her, making her skin tingle and her heart flutter. For a moment, she wondered if they could just lie down, let time slip away, and forget the fragments of herself she had lost.
"Hinata?" His touch tightened around her, but it was a grip full of care, never harsh enough to bruise.
"I..." A sob caught in her throat, the weight of her emotions choking the words she couldn’t release. Her eyes burned with unshed tears, a quiet storm building inside her. Holding them back was an effort of sheer will. "I want..."
"What's wrong?" His voice softened, bending down to her level, trying to bridge the distance between them. She couldn't bear to meet his eyes, terrified that one glance might unravel her completely.
"I can't. I'm sorry." The words came out in a whisper, the apology slipping from her lips almost reflexively. It was always easier to apologize than to confront the truth.
"Hm? Can't what? You can tell me anything." His arms reached out to pull her close, but she placed a hand on his forearm, stopping him. She couldn’t bear the warmth of his embrace right now.
"I want to break up."
The words felt like shards of glass as they left her mouth. She winced when he recoiled, her lips trembling as his hands fell away from her, hanging limply at his sides. She couldn’t bring herself to look at his face, so she stared at his hands, empty and still.
"You don’t mean that," he said, his voice firm, though it wavered at the end. He had always been open with her, vulnerable in a way that made it impossible to hide anything, even when he tried.
She said nothing.
"Hinata." He called her name, his voice soft but insistent. "Can you look at me?"
She shook her head, the tears she was desperately holding back now shimmering in her eyes.
"Yeah. Because you don’t mean it." His tone changed, a quiet certainty settling in, as though he refused to believe her words. He stepped closer again, but she instinctively stepped back, the gap between them widening.
A heavy sigh escaped him, the sound of a heart breaking in slow motion.
"Hinata, you love me. I know you do." His voice was confident now, no longer faltering. He seemed to believe in it with every fiber of his being.
"I do love you." The words slipped from her lips, truthfully, but even as she said them, she felt the sharp divide growing between them.
"Okay, so why do you want to break up? What did I do?"
"Nothing."
"I’m not stupid." He scoffed lightly, his frustration bubbling to the surface. "You wouldn’t say that without a reason. Tell me what’s going on."
"There’s nothing wrong with you."
He shook his head, the disbelief in his voice impossible to ignore. "I don’t believe that."
She could hear the doubt in his words, and it was a weight she couldn’t bear. She had to look at him now, or she might shatter entirely. Slowly, she met his gaze, her tears falling freely as her voice steadied with resolve.
"There’s nothing wrong with you," she said, her tone firm, even as the pain of her own words tore at her.
"Then why?" he asked, his voice thick with confusion.
"I'm not okay," she murmured, the words tasting bitter on her tongue. "I’m struggling with some things, and... I need to be alone to figure it out." She tried to explain, but it felt hollow, even to her own ears.
"I can help you," he said without hesitation, his voice filled with a quiet urgency.
"It’s not your responsibility to fix what’s broken in me," she snapped, though she hated the harshness of her tone.
"I want it to be," he countered, his gaze intense, as if his love could heal whatever ailed her.
"I don’t," she replied, her voice softening only slightly.
His response was silence. His hands hovered in the air between them, caught in a moment of helplessness. He stepped closer, but this time, she didn’t retreat. She could only stand there, frozen. His lips brushed gently against her forehead, the touch as delicate as a whisper.
"I love you," he said, his voice full of tenderness and pain.
She didn’t say a word. She just turned and walked away.
Coward. The voice in her head echoed mercilessly. It could’ve been anyone’s.
[...]
Two months had passed, and she had settled into a rhythm that felt like slow, agonizing self-destruction. Each day, she pushed herself to the brink, training until exhaustion claimed her, and moving through the compound like a wraith. She allowed herself to show strength only in clan matters, where her presence was required. The former side branch had proposed a new form of leadership—something closer to a parliament, with no singular figurehead. Her father agreed, and that was enough to ignite fury in the main family while validating the side branch’s claims. Traditions endured, but the world demanded change, for without it, they would fall into irrelevance.
She visited Neji’s grave often. She spoke to it more than she did to anyone else—family, friends, or even herself. She imagined planting sunflowers around the stone, a way to hide the inevitable decay of the flowers she had once carefully chosen, a way to keep the cycle of life alive for just a little longer.
Her hands were wrapped in bandages from the last mission. She was distracted, her Byakugan barely active, and she knew it. She’d given little thought to her own safety, focused only on taking the damage herself, sparing no one else the burden.
Back in the hospital, Sakura’s reprimand stung, but it didn’t stop her. She realized, with a heavy heart, how much she craved the pain. It pulled her from the numbness, reminded her that she was alive—alive in her flesh and bones, and not just a shadow of herself. She was intoxicated by the rush, the adrenaline, the sweet bite of injury. So she went home and trained until her hands were ruined again.
It reminded her of when she was a child, how the pain used to overwhelm her. But now, it was something else—addictive, almost thrilling.
Most nights, she cried herself to sleep, and it didn’t feel like weakness. It felt cleansing, like a shower for her soul, washing away the guilt and filling the emptiness, only to start again the next day. It was a cycle, a loop she couldn’t break.
She thought of Naruto often, as much as she tried to avoid him. He seemed to be everywhere—calling to her from the streets, asking their friends to pass along messages. She caught glimpses of him, always half-smiling, and it stirred something inside her—something warm and painful. The sight of him, though, left her with a heavy heart. The shadows under his eyes, the hollowness in his smile, were more than she could bear.
On her worst days, the days when she hated herself enough to wish for something sharper, she imagined him finding someone new. Someone who was her complete opposite, someone who could move him forward while she stayed stuck, trapped in the past.
She longed for clarity. She wanted to understand why she couldn’t belong, why her body had always felt like a cage, just as her life had been a cage for others.
Maybe it was penitence.
But strangely, through it all, she realized something—she wanted to live. She wanted to watch the sunflowers grow. She wanted to tell stories of Neji, protect his diary, keep his memory alive. She wanted to clean his grave, brush her sister’s hair while she ranted about the world, hold Mirai in her arms, cook with Kurenai, and lay her head on Shino’s shoulder while they watched Kiba playing with Akamaru. She wanted to be loved. She didn’t know what made her worthy of it, but the longing was sharp, all-consuming. It was the one thing that kept her tethered to the world, even when everything else felt like it was slipping away.
She sat in the garden outside her compound, her bandages streaked with the dirt from the seeds she’d planted.
She didn’t need to look up when she felt his presence beside her. She stayed rooted to her spot.
"Your sister told me you were here." His voice was calm, without the usual weight of worry. He sat down beside her, his arm brushing against hers.
She turned to look at him, breath catching as she took in the sight of his face. The sunlight hit his blonde curls in a way that made him look almost celestial, like a halo had descended upon him.
"You're beautiful," she blurted out before she could stop herself.
He chuckled softly, though his gaze lingered on her bandaged hands. "You shouldn’t say that to your ex-boyfriend."
Her lips curved into a small, surprised smile. She felt lighter than she had in months. "I missed you," she confessed, the words tumbling out before she could second-guess them. She could take his rejection, his anger. She had grown used to being hurt. But for once, she just wanted to be honest. She wanted to speak the truth, raw and unfiltered.
That was what she had been doing lately. Living, instead of merely surviving—clumsy as she was at it. She was still figuring it out, but she felt ready to try. Maybe it would take a lifetime. But that was okay.
"Hinata," he said gently, taking her hands in his, his fingers brushing over her bandaged knuckles. "Are you alright?"
She nodded, her eyes never leaving his.
"Good," he murmured, his gaze shifting from her eyes to her lips, then back to her eyes. "Do you—does that mean you want—"
Before he could finish, she threw herself into his arms, her arms wrapped tightly around his neck as she knelt, pressing her face against his, leaving him little room to move. She let out a shaky breath when he embraced her in return, pulling her close.
"I want you to be boyfriend again." she whispered against his ear.
There was a prolonged silence, or maybe it was her anxiety. The abrupt words she let out had surprise even herself. She wanted to be honest like Neji. Take people out with her words.
His answer was soft but certain, "Can I be your husband instead?"
She pulled back, stunned by his words.
The absurdity of it all—a relationship full of twists and turns, from dating to breaking up and now, possibly, to something deeper. Something she had never considered, even when they were dating.
Something she wouldn't let herself consider.
She chuckled nervously, staring at him and wanting for the punchline.
"Don’t laugh," he said earnestly. "I mean it."
She stared at him, bewildered. "I broke up with you."
He met her gaze, his expression unwavering. "You love me. I love you," he said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. As if it was the only explanation that mattered.
Tears welled up in her eyes, but she didn’t try to stop them. She let them flow freely.
"Just tell me what you want. I can handle you," he said softly, holding her hand again and kissing it gently. She could feel the pulse beneath her bandages, the blood rushing beneath her skin.
"I want to marry you," she whispered.
He smiled, a gentle, knowing smile, as if he had always believed this moment was inevitable.
The clouds shifted above them, but she didn’t look at them.
Her eyes were locked on what her hands could touch.