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I.
“Ah, such a good alpha,” one of the administrative staff remarked, his voice carrying a teasing lilt as he was one of many peers gathered around the window overlooking the street.
“He came to pick her up so diligently. So sweet. I wish he were waiting for me,” another chimed in, eliciting a round of laughter.
Hinata barely registered their words until her gaze followed theirs. There he was. Sasuke, standing at the academy gates. Even from this distance, she could see the weariness in his posture, the slight slump of his shoulders, and the softened sharpness of his usually piercing gaze. A pang of guilt tightened her chest. She’d been the one to encourage him to attend Ino’s birthday party that afternoon, knowing how much it meant to their friend. But now, seeing him like this, she wondered if she’d asked too much.
When she finally reached him, no words were exchanged. Their silent understanding bridged the gap as they fell into step, heading toward the restaurant.
Hinata stole glances at him as they walked, her concern growing with every subtle sign of his exhaustion. His blinks were slower, cursory, as though he were fighting to stay alert. It struck her that Sasuke, capable as he was, might actually be on the brink of collapse. But if he’d been aware, he gave no explicit indication, moving with the same quiet determination as always.
She didn’t have long to dwell on her worry, though. Her own focus slipped midway, and a misstep sent her stumbling forward. Panic shot through her as she anticipated the hard impact of the ground, but it never came. Sasuke caught her with ease, his arms closing firmly around her before she could get hurt.
For a moment, the world narrowed to the warmth of his hold, the solid press of his chest against her as he steadied her. It felt oddly intimate—too much so for a simple accident. When she finally opened her eyes, Sasuke was already pulling her upright, his movements careful and steady. His hands lingered on her arms, grounding her.
“You okay?” he asked, his deep voice carrying a hint of concern. When their eyes met, his gaze was intense, holding onto Hinata until she nodded, cheeks flushed and heart racing.
“I’m sorry,” Hinata mumbled, bringing her hands to her face in embarrassment. The heat of her blush only deepened when she realized how much of his scent clung to her now.
Sasuke frowned, reaching out to gently tug her wrists away, revealing her eyes. “Why? For tripping?” His tone was light, almost teasing, and his intent clear: it was just a trivial accident. She wouldn’t fault her students for such a thing, so why blame herself? He eased her guilt effortlessly, without redirecting it elsewhere.
Unable to find a suitable response, Hinata swallowed the rest of her excuses, sensing their inadequacy, and simply shook her head, quickly urging them to keep walking. She could still feel his scent surrounding her, woodsy and fresh and distinctly him, and it made her heart beat faster. She was hyperaware of it, but she wasn’t sure if he noticed—or cared.
Sasuke seemed more alert after that, though he didn’t slow their pace. For that, Hinata was grateful.
When they arrived at the barbecue restaurant, Sasuke held the door open for her, his hand brushing against hers briefly as she passed. Inside, the buzz of conversation filled the air. Their friends were already seated, the table lively with chatter.
Hinata approached with a small gift bag in hand, offering it to Ino with a polite smile. “Happy birthday, Ino-chan.”
“Thank you, Hina-chan!” Ino beamed, her excitement unmistakable as she accepted the present. Her sharp blue eyes flicked to Sasuke, and a mischievous lopsided smile spread across her face. “And thanks for bringing Sasuke-kun along,” she added slyly.
Hinata’s blush deepened as she stammered, “I didn’t—he came on his own.” Her voice was quieter than she intended, and she fidgeted under the weight of Ino’s knowing look.
“Happy birthday,” Sasuke said simply, his nod curt as he took the seat furthest from the group. His usual aloofness didn’t stop the curious glances from darting between him and Hinata, and she felt her discomfort grow.
It was Kiba, as blunt as ever, who finally broke the silence. Leaning closer, he sniffed the air theatrically before pointing a finger at Hinata. “Oi, Hinata... Why do you smell like him?”
The question struck her like a thunderclap. She froze, her mouth opening and closing as she struggled to form a response. Her gaze darted to Sasuke, whose expression remained unreadable.
“It’s nothing,” Sasuke said flatly, his tone leaving no room for argument. His sharp gaze swept over the table, daring anyone to push further.
Though his words ended the discussion, the tension remained. Hinata could feel their curiosity like hands weighing her shoulder, conspicuous in the pointedly exchanged glances when they thought she wasn’t looking. She tightened her grip on the edge of her seat, wishing the ground would swallow her whole.
All the while, Sasuke’s scent stayed on her skin and clothes, a constant reminder of his presence. Even as the smoky smell of barbecue filled the air, it refused to fade, leaving her hyperconscious of every breath she took.
II.
“Naruto wants me to dance at his wedding.”
Sasuke’s voice materialized out of nowhere, his presence following a moment later as he stepped out of the shadows to her side. Hinata turned her head, startled by his abrupt announcement. She envied the ease with which Sasuke moved—silent and precise, like a predator on constant alert. He, like Naruto, Neji, and even Sakura, seemed to always be in mission mode, as if their bodies were never truly at rest, even within the safety of the village.
“Yes?” she replied, more surprised by the annoyance lacing his tone than the request itself. “Everyone will, and you’re his best man,” she added, her voice gentle but firm, as if reminding him of the obvious.
Sasuke stayed silent for a long moment, his expression unreadable. It was only when Hinata turned to face him fully that she realized he was wrestling with something, his usual mask of apathy betraying faint traces of unease.
“What’s the problem?” she asked softly, curiosity threading her voice. She knew Sasuke well enough to sense when he wanted to talk but didn’t know how to start. She was learning how to best approach and make that easier for him too.
“Who am I supposed to dance with?” he finally bit out, his voice colder than necessary, as if irritated by his own vulnerability.
Hinata blinked at him, unsure if he was serious. “I’m sure Naruto has someone in mind, but he’d listen to your input,” she said, her tone calm and reassuring. “You could even dance with Sakura, if that’s more comfortable,” she mused, half to herself.
Sasuke grimaced, reacting immediately. “No,” he said flatly, the word stricken with an almost comical disgust.
He crossed his arms and continued, a rare, unfiltered honesty spilling forth. “I don’t want to go near them more than I already have to. Can you imagine what they’ll smell like? Sakura will reek of flowers—she always does. It’s like spring shoved down your throat.” He shuddered for emphasis. “And Naruto... Kurama will probably get ‘excited.’” He made air quotes with his fingers, stoicism briefly giving way to irritation. “The chakra flare alone will make the entire hall unbearable.” He groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Now I don’t even want to go.”
Hinata tried to suppress her laughter, but the absurdity of his rant was too much. A bashful giggle escaped her, and she raised a hand to cover her mouth, though it did little to stifle the sound.
She didn’t notice the way Sasuke’s eyes softened at the sight or the faint upward curve of his lips. He leaned in slightly, watching her with an expression far gentler than anyone would expect from him.
By the time Hinata glanced back up, Sasuke had looked away, idly peeling bark off the tree trunk and flicking it into the air with the precision of a kunai. His movements were uniform, almost lazy, yet they held a quiet deadliness that was uniquely his. Still, Hinata didn’t feel the least bit threatened by him.
“Imagine being that happy,” she murmured, her voice wistful as her gaze shifted back to the ground. The sunlight filtering through the leaves caught her pale eyes, giving them an ethereal glow.
Sasuke turned to look at her, his expression unreadable once more. “Is that something you want?”
Hinata hesitated, considering his question. “The wedding? Not so much,” she admitted, her tone steady, as if it was something she had thought about before. “But they make a great couple, I believe their mating is auspicious. The village is lucky to have them lead us.”
He didn’t respond immediately, his gaze lingering on her, as though searching for any implications or omissions. Finding none, he extended a hand and deliberately nudged her shoulder, just enough to send her off balance.
Caught off guard, Hinata stumbled back, her instincts kicking in too late. She yelped softly, her foot slipping as Sasuke’s leg hooked hers in a quick, practiced motion. The world tilted, but before she could hit the ground, his hand shot out, gripping her arm firmly and steadying her with an ease that reminded her just how strong he was.
“Why—” she began, her cheeks flushed from the abruptness of it all, her breath puffing in the crisp air.
“You looked cold,” Sasuke said, his tone maddeningly casual as he released her arm. There was the faintest curve to his lips, a ghost of a smirk that made her bristle despite herself. “Thought sparring might help.”
Hinata blinked, processing his words and his audacity in the same breath. “You could’ve said so,” she muttered, brushing her hands against her cloak as though to shake off her embarrassment.
“Where’s the fun in that?” His voice held a teasing edge, but his eyes sharpened as he shifted his weight, his stance fluid and ready.
Despite herself, Hinata sighed and mirrored his movements, falling naturally into a defensive position. She was a jonin—an elite ninja trained to adapt to any challenge. Sparring with Sasuke wasn’t new, but it always pushed her limits. He was relentless, precise, and powerful in a way that left no room for hesitation.
And yet, there was a care to his movements, an unspoken acknowledgment of her skill. He didn’t overpower her simply because he could. Instead, he met her with calculated restraint, forcing her to think, to push back, to match him. It was that careful balance that made training with Sasuke both frustrating and exhilarating.
They moved in tandem, strikes and counters blending into a rhythm. The faint sound of their breaths, the soft rustle of leaves beneath their feet, and the occasional sharp crack of impact filled the air. Hinata’s focus sharpened as she pivoted, her hands gliding through the motions of her Gentle Fist technique.
Sasuke dodged, his speed almost blurring, but she could feel his attention in every movement. He wasn’t simply avoiding her strikes; he was reading her, testing her. For all his strength, he never let it feel overwhelming. Instead, it was a challenge—a push to meet him on equal footing. After some attempts, she had become better at tracking him, predicting his reactions, and landing strikes.
A sudden shift in their moves brought them closer than anticipated. Hinata’s palm grazed his cloak, and in an instant, Sasuke stepped in, his hand brushing against her wrist to divert her momentum. Their proximity sent a rush of warmth through her, and she felt the faint, woodsy scent of him—fresh, powerful, and distinctly masculine.
By the time they broke apart, her heart was pounding—not from exertion, but from the intensity of the exchange. Sasuke’s gaze lingered for a moment, as though gauging her reaction, before he stepped back, his breathing as steady as ever.
“Well?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
Hinata exhaled slowly, offering a small smile. “I’m warm now,” she replied, her voice calm but lit with amusement.
He gave a faint nod, somber as he picked a piece of bark off his sleeve. “Good.”
The sparring had left its mark—on her cloak, her skin, and most unexpectedly, on her scent. She didn’t realize the full extent until much later, when she returned home and felt the weight of her family’s scrutinizing eyes.
“Hinata,” her father said, his tone laden with suspicion, his sharp gaze unwavering. “You’re carrying someone else’s scent.”
Her cheeks burned in an instant, a wave of mortification washing over her. She had noticed it earlier, Sasuke’s scent, woodsy and crisp, underpinned by a powerful, unmistakably alpha undertone. It clung to her, woven into her clothes, her hair, as though it belonged there.
She hadn’t washed it off, not yet. Maybe she’d been reluctant to let it go, the reminder of their spar in the faintest traces of pine and fresh air. But in her oversight, she had failed to consider that others would notice too—and that they would question what it meant.
“I... sparred with Sasuke,” she explained quickly, trying to keep her tone neutral. But the way her cousin Neji raised an eyebrow told her he wasn’t convinced.
“Just sparring?” he asked, his voice tight with obvious disbelief.
Hinata’s fingers tightened at her sides as she straightened. “Yes. That’s all.”
She avoided their eyes as she made her way to her room, her mind replaying the afternoon session and the way his scent had wrapped around her like a second skin. Sasuke probably hadn’t even noticed—or if he had, he wouldn’t have cared.
But her family’s suspicion was tricky, and as she shut the door behind her, she couldn’t help but wonder if there was more to the moment than she’d let herself believe.
III.
Hinata wandered through the festival with Shino at her side, their silence stretching resiliently between them. Both kept to the periphery of the bustling crowd, as if drawn to the quieter edges by unspoken agreement. She spared a moment of reflection, thinking back to when she was younger and unpresented, when gatherings like this had been overwhelming for entirely different reasons. Back then, the sheer size of the crowd had been intimidating. Now, it was the layered scents—a cacophony of pheromones and body odors—that made her more aware of how claustrophobic a ninja village could feel.
With winter approaching, the crisp air meant people layered themselves in thicker clothing. Instead of the sharp tang of sweat and pheromones, the day’s scents lingered, clinging stubbornly to fabric. She found it somehow worse, like the smells had been distilled and concentrated.
“Do you want food?” Shino asked, breaking the quiet. His gaze was directed somewhere ahead, just out of her line of sight.
“I’m not hungry,” Hinata replied with a casual shrug. “Are you? We can stop anywhere.”
Shino nodded, then paused. “I might want a beer or something. This is boring.” He tilted his head to indicate a nearby stall.
Hinata pressed her fingers together, not out of insecurity but as a habit when lost in thought. “These things are always late,” she mused, thinking of the light show they’d been waiting for. “Do you want to head home?”
“Nah, it’s fine,” Shino dismissed, pulling toward the stall.
Hinata let the matter drop, her pale eyes drifting over the crowd again. The village had blossomed in the years since the war, its festivals now drawing people from far beyond their borders. It was safer to travel, and the markets were filled with shiny new wares. She often wished for more reasons to dress up, to justify buying something purely aesthetic. But despite being an omega, she felt too much like a ninja—practicality always won out over indulgence.
“Do you want anything? Wine? Water?” Shino asked as he reached the vendor.
Hinata scrunched her nose. “I’m fine. Maybe some sweets later, for the show.”
Shino smirked knowingly before turning to pay for his drink.
That’s when she saw him. Sasuke’s figure nearly blended into the crowd, his black cape obscuring half his face. For a moment, she almost missed him, but his movement was unmistakable—straight towards her.
“Aburame. Hinata,” Sasuke greeted, his voice calm and uninflected.
“Uchiha,” Shino replied lazily, sparing him only a glance. “Hinata, I’m grabbing a bite. I’ll meet you near the stage?”
Hinata nodded, biting her lip as she watched Shino walk off. Her gaze flicked back to Sasuke, expecting some reaction to her friend’s abrupt departure, but none came.
“I didn’t expect to see you here,” she said, turning away slightly but fully expecting him to fall into step beside her.
“You mean you didn’t invite me,” Sasuke replied with a faint smirk.
“Was I supposed to know you’d want to come?”
He shrugged. “I haven’t been to one of these in a while. Figured I’d see what’s changed. Still feels just as insufferable.”
Hinata’s lips turned down reflexively, a quiet expression of disapproval she couldn’t quite hide. “I like it,” she countered intently.
“Of course,” Sasuke said, his tone neutral, neither criticizing nor praising. She missed the subtle way his smile softened under the high collar of his cape, but still decided to let his dismissiveness slide.
“I want cake,” she announced suddenly, almost to herself, the thought Shino had planted earlier surfacing again.
Sasuke nudged her shoulder lightly, smiling in her direction. “I’ll get you cake. Let’s go.”
“What if the light show starts? It’s not far off,” she said, glancing between the sweet stalls and the stage.
“I’ll bring it to you, then,” Sasuke offered, his tone casual, solving a trivial problem.
Hinata frowned. That wasn’t what she wanted. “Let’s just go quickly,” she decided, tugging on his good arm with both hands. The firmness of his muscles under her touch sent a flicker of warmth through her chest. She bit her lip to stifle the smile threatening to surface.
“Don’t trust me to pick a good one?” Sasuke teased, his voice softer now, his steps falling in line with hers.
“Any cake is good cake,” she retorted with easy confidence, a hint of petulance coloring her tone.
Sasuke shook his head, a subtle smile forming before he glanced away. For a fleeting moment, Hinata wondered if her eyes were playing tricks on her—or if Sasuke Uchiha might actually be blushing.
They remained like that the entire night. Their interactions softened with a kind of ease Hinata hadn’t felt in years. Something about the bright lights, the lively energy of the festival, and Sasuke’s quiet presence made the evening feel special. She barely had time to feel guilty about ditching her friends, Shino in particular, to linger in a corner, enjoying the show with only Sasuke as company. She felt too shy to ask him to join the large group when his mood seemed so bright.
Whenever she spared Sasuke a glance, she found his gaze lifted to the sky, his jaw relaxed, and his lips barely curved in a soft upturn. It felt good to have him back, as if he truly belonged in Konoha—not in spite of everything he’d been through, but because of it.
And it was a new feeling to stay close to him, his chest to her back, like he was protecting her, watching over her and creating a private moment for them in the middle of the crowd. It was a comfort that could only blossom in secret. She wouldn’t deny them the opportunity.
When the drizzle started, it didn’t dampen her spirits. Hinata tilted her head back, gazing up at the sky with mute reverence, grateful that the rain had waited until the festivities were nearly over.
Sasuke, on the other hand, seemed less impressed. His brows furrowed as he glanced around, his hand instinctively pulling her closer as the crowd scrambled to find shelter under awnings.
Hinata, unbothered, smiled to herself, until Sasuke shrugged off his cape and draped it over her shoulders with a resigned sigh.
“Can I take you home?” he asked, though his tone carried a weight that felt more like an order, as if he couldn’t bear for her to refuse.
“Of course, Sasuke-kun,” she replied softly, her smile appreciative as she imagined them walking close, maybe even holding hands. It faltered a moment later when he shifted her without warning, lifting her onto his back with a single arm.
“Hold on,” he advised, and before she could protest, he was running.
The wind rushed against her face, and Hinata’s hands settled over his shoulders as she glared at the back of his neck. She hadn’t wanted to rush home—not like this. She wanted more time with him, but the words caught in her throat. Instead, she pouted silently, her thoughts shifting as she took in their closeness.
The scent gland on his neck was right there, near enough that she could have leaned closer under the excuse of shielding herself from the wind. His scent was clean, like his cape—recently washed, barely used. She wanted to bury herself in it, already dreading the moment she’d have to return it.
The Hyuuga Compound loomed into view far too soon, bringing with it the bittersweet realization that their time together was ending. Hinata tightened her hold on Sasuke, as though clinging to the hope that the night could stretch just a little longer.
By the time they reached the gates, her heart felt like it was lodged in her throat, until Sasuke found her eyes, his words soft and sweet.
Hinata had trouble holding back a smile, but the moment was delicate and she was afraid her enthusiasm would break it.
She left him with her heart racing, her cheeks flushed and his scent all around her, fueling the hope that made the weather innocuous.
Inside, as she removed her shoes, Neji’s voice broke the quiet.
“Why do you have his cloak?” he asked, his sharp gaze fixed on the garment draped around her shoulders.
“It’s cold,” Hinata replied, her voice steady despite the rush of adrenaline. “And it started raining,” she added honestly, hoping to deflect further questions.
“That’s twice now,” Neji said pointedly, his tone edged with disapproval. “Is there something I should know?”
Hinata shrugged, feigning indifference even as her heart thumped against her ribcage. “You’re reading too much into this,” she murmured, avoiding his eyes. She felt her cheeks burning, but there was nothing she could do to stop them.
Neji’s gaze didn’t waver. “Hinata-sama,” he continued, his tone softening but not losing its weight, “he cannot be courting you. I hope he isn’t courting you without asking for permission—like a respectful alpha should.”
“You’re overthinking this,” she whispered, her voice small, the flush of embarrassment creeping into her ears. “I’m starting to worry about you, Neji-nii-san.”
Neji’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t understand why you’re suddenly so close to the traitor.”
“Sasuke-kun has been back for almost a year now,” she countered, her voice a fraction bolder. “You could be close to him if you wanted to.”
Neji’s expression wavered, his brow furrowing as he studied her. “Then tell me, Hinata-sama. How would you feel if I was the one standing this close to him?” His words were sharp, cutting through the air, leaving no space for rebuttal.
He held her gaze for a long moment, presumptuous, trying to read in her face what she wasn’t volunteering. Whatever he found there seemed to satisfy him, and his expression relaxed, settling into something unreadable. Without another word, he turned and walked away, leaving Hinata standing in the entryway, her heart heavy.
IV.
Hinata had been waiting all day, her hope stubborn and almost naive in its persistence. When the sun dipped below the horizon and Sasuke still hadn’t come looking for her, she decided to seek him out herself. The village seemed to conspire in her favor, the people of Konoha guiding her path with subtle gestures and quiet, knowing looks.
She found him in a bar tucked away at the border, as far from the restored Uchiha compound as he could be without leaving Konoha altogether. The dim, empty space seemed built to be forgotten, but Sasuke was impossible to miss—slumped over the counter, hours past drunk, a small pouch of coins shoved carelessly beside his head.
“Ojiisan,” Hinata greeted softly, addressing the older man wiping the counter around Sasuke’s resting form. “Has he caused much trouble?”
The bar owner barely looked up, his expression restrained but tinged with disapproval. “No trouble. Didn’t say a word,” he muttered after a pause, his tone reluctant as if searching for a reason to complain.
Hinata stepped closer, her gaze shifting to Sasuke. A faint defensiveness stirred at the bartender’s judgment, but she brushed it aside. Right now, all that mattered was getting Sasuke home.
She slid his arm over her shoulders, immediately struck by the solid weight of him. For someone so lean, Sasuke carried surprising heft. As she attempted to lift him, he stirred, the sudden movement jolting him awake.
The red glow of the Mangekyou flickered in his eyes, freezing her for a heartbeat before it faded, replaced by bleary confusion.
“Go away,” he slurred, trying to pull away but stumbling instead.
“Let me help you today,” Hinata pleaded, leaning closer, whispering into his ear. “Let’s go, Sasuke-kun.”
“I have nowhere to go,” Sasuke shot back, his tone bitter, his resistance weak. “There’s nothing left.”
“Then keep me company,” she offered gently, brushing a fleeting kiss against his temple. It was more instinct than plan, a plea wrapped in affection.
“Leave me alone,” he rasped, his voice cracking, but his body betrayed him, sagging into her hold.
Hinata tightened her grip, her arms encircling his chest as she steadied them both. For a moment, she considered calling for help—perhaps Naruto or Kakashi would be better suited to handle this—but the thought dissolved when she looked at Sasuke’s face. Vulnerable in a way he rarely allowed, it stirred something protective within her.
“No,” Hinata resisted, a beat too slow. “I’m taking you home, Sasuke,” she warned, a finality that seemed mostly forged in her tone, finding that by dragging him, he lost what little balance he retained and couldn’t fight her as properly.
Using all her energy, Hinata adjusted Sasuke’s weight against her side, arms trembling slightly as she bore the brunt of his uncooperative strength. He wasn’t making this easy, but she couldn’t bring herself to give up—not when he looked so defeated, his usual sharp edges dulled by grief and alcohol.
Outside the bar, the crisp evening air prickled her skin, a stark contrast to the heavy warmth of Sasuke’s body leaning against her. The streets of Konoha were even quieter now, but never empty. Villagers glanced their way, their expressions ranging from curiosity to outright suspicion.
The rumors would spread quickly, she realized, as she caught snippets of whispered exchanges. The scent Sasuke carried—her scent—lingered in the air between them, unmistakable to anyone with the slightest awareness of their dynamics. It was a mark, unintentional but potent, and it was enough to draw attention.
Sasuke didn’t seem to care. Or maybe he didn’t notice. Hinata was in no position to regret her actions. She wouldn’t waste time worrying about incoming consequences either.
They made it as far as the market district before a familiar voice broke through the murmurs.
“Hinata-san? Do you need help?”
She turned to see Shikamaru approaching, his sharp eyes assessing the situation in an instant. His gaze faltered on Sasuke, then shifted back to her, his brow furrowing slightly.
Before she could respond, Sasuke stiffened.
“I don’t need help,” he growled, his voice low and guttural, the sound vibrating against her side. Shikamaru froze mid-step, his hands raised slightly in a gesture of peace.
Hinata felt Sasuke’s arm tighten around her shoulders, pulling her closer as if to shield her from even the smallest perceived threat. The action sent a shiver down her spine, a mixture of surprise and something warmer, deeper, that she didn’t dare examine too closely.
“All right, all right,” Shikamaru said evenly, retreating a step. His tone was careful, but there was a glint of amusement in his eyes. “No need to get territorial.”
Shikamaru gave Hinata a small, knowing nod before turning away, muttering something about troublesome alphas under his breath.
By the time they reached Sasuke’s apartment near the Hokage Tower, the weight of the stares had only grown heavier. Villagers idled in doorways and windows, their gazes following their path through the streets. Hinata kept her head high, refusing to let their scrutiny deter her, though her cheeks burned with a mixture of embarrassment and defiance.
Sasuke’s steps stumbled as they reached the door to his place, and Hinata tightened her grip to steady him. She fumbled for a moment before finding the key tucked into the pocket of his coat.
Inside, the space was dimly lit and sparsely furnished, the air carrying the faint scent of him—clean, sharp, and woodsy. She eased him onto the couch, her arms trembling with effort. He muttered something incoherent, his head lolling against the cushions.
Hinata knelt beside him, brushing stray strands of hair from his face as his breathing evened out. Her heart ached at the sight of him, so strong yet so fragile in this moment.
“Rest,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the steady rhythm of his breaths.
She didn’t move for a long time, unwilling to leave him alone just yet, her thoughts a chaotic swirl of questions and emotions she wasn’t ready to face.
Outside, the village buzzed with its indiscreet speculation. Inside, it was just the two of them—a fragile moment suspended in serenity. She felt like moving would risk it breaking.
V.
Hinata was being carried through the hospital doors, Iruka’s steps unsteady as exhaustion and pain weighed heavily on both of them. Then she felt it—the atmosphere being Sasuke’s presence. The air shifted subtly, his chakra flooding the space, and with it came his scent, faint yet unmistakable. Her breath hitched as she pouted instinctively, her pale eyes scanning the hallway in search of him, even before her thoughts caught up with her instincts. She knew, without a doubt, he would ease her suffering.
And there he was. Sasuke moved without hesitation, his dark eyes assessing her condition before stepping forward. Without a word, he relieved Iruka-sensei of the burden, scooping her up effortlessly into his arms. His movements were careful, keeping her injured arm free from strain. Sasuke took in the sight of her, the eye bags bruised in, the paleness and array of marks. His anger became something anyone around them would be able to notice as his pheromones spread unconsciously.
“Alpha,” Hinata managed in a choked whimper, her voice trembling as tears welled in her eyes. She buried her face in the crook of his neck, finally allowing the dam to break. Her tears were hot against his skin, her frame trembling with suppressed emotion.
“You should have sent for me before even coming back to the village,” Sasuke murmured, his voice gentle despite the reprimand. He pressed his cheek against her hair, forcing her face into his neck, hoping his scent would offer her comfort, his hold tightening ever so slightly as if shielding her from the world.
Hinata blushed, her face still hidden as she pouted. “I was avoiding you,” she admitted petulantly, her voice muffled but audible.
A smirk tugged at Sasuke’s lips. He had expected as much. “I know,” he said knowingly. “You even took a mission during your only break just to avoid crossing paths with me.”
Her blush deepened, and she stuttered, trying to form a response.
Sasuke continued, his tone teasing. “I almost had Naruto cancel it, but I figured you needed the time.”
“I did,” Hinata admitted softly. “Didn’t you?”
Sasuke’s gaze softened. He waited for her pale eyes, dulled by fatigue, to meet his. When they finally did, the unspoken connection between them deepened—a shared vulnerability that words could never fully capture.
“You should’ve said something sooner,” she complained, her voice revealing her pouty lips, as though exhaustion blunted the edges of her shyness, stripping away her usual inhibitions.
Sasuke chuckled, the sound low and warm, a quiet rumble meant just for her. “Not that I won’t appreciate having more of you,” he said with a small smile. “But I’m content with any piece I can get. I’m in no place to make demands, Hime.”
Hinata tilted her head, studying him. “But what do you want?”
Sasuke sighed, his eyes briefly rolling before meeting hers again with a smirk. “Right now, I think I want to have a talk with your father. No?”
Hinata giggled lightly, the delicate sound still threaded with fatigue. “If that’s what you really want,” she agreed, earning a soft nod from him. She bit her lip, hiding her face again before adding, “but do it later. I don’t want to be alone.”
“Don’t worry,” Sasuke promised her, his voice firm. “I’ll stay by your side for as long as you’ll let me.”
No one—not the sternest medics, not even Sakura herself—managed to force Sasuke further than an arm’s reach from Hinata the entire time she was being treated. Sakura, who wasn’t directly responsible for Hinata’s care, had lingered long enough to offer a few kind words to her former teammate. Her tone was gentle, her words carefully chosen, as if sensing the fragile tension beneath Sasuke’s stoic exterior. He replied with clipped but polite responses, his attention rarely leaving Hinata’s figure. Eventually, even Sakura relented, leaving them alone with a nod of understanding.
The stillness of the hospital room was both comforting and oppressive. She would be making a full recovery, but the waiting was torturous for an array of reasons. Sasuke tried to focus on the fact Hinata lay peacefully in the bed, her breathing soft and even as the antidote worked its way through her system. The faint glow of moonlight spilled through the window, catching the curve of her face and casting delicate shadows over her features.
Sasuke’s gaze never wavered from her. His usual sharpness, honed for battle, had given way to something deeper—an unshakable focus that spoke of his unrelenting need to ensure her safety. One hand rested on the arm of the chair he sat in, the other hovering slightly near hers, as though he couldn’t quite bring himself to let go completely.
The moments stretched on, but Sasuke remained rooted, his presence a silent promise that no harm would touch her again. To anyone else, it might have seemed unnecessary—Hinata was safe now, her broken bones on the mend, any treatment already doing its work—but Sasuke didn’t care. His instincts, sharpened by years of loss and pain, demanded that he stay.
The sound of the door opening broke the silence for the first time in many hours, and Naruto stepped in cautiously. His bright blue eyes scanned the room before settling on Sasuke, whose posture was as rigid as ever.
“She has been poisoned and attacked in a way that reads extremely personal,” Sasuke explained without preamble, his tone unnervingly calm. It carried a weight that made Naruto pause.
“That’s... bad,” Naruto exhaled, watching his friend closely, suspicious of the lack of visible anger. His nose twitched, and he tilted his head, clearly distracted.
“We have the antidote. It’s just a matter of time,” Sasuke continued, ignoring Naruto’s odd look.
“And what are you planning to do about it?” Naruto asked cautiously, his gaze still darting between the two.
Sasuke’s focus didn’t waver from Hinata’s sleeping face. “I’m waiting for someone from her clan to stay with her. Then I’ll give chase.”
“No one’s coming,” Naruto said firmly, his tone sympathetic, though he felt something odd in Sasuke’s words and actions.
“I know.”
“I can’t go. I have work,” Naruto added apologetically.
“I know.”
Naruto hesitated, then folded his arms, his brow furrowing. “Where’s Sakura?” he switched quickly, suspicion creeping into his voice.
Sasuke smirked faintly but didn’t answer, his attention fixed on Hinata.
Naruto groaned. “You’re such a bastard. If she’s hurt before my wedding, I’ll make you the village’s punching bag. Some of the guests would enjoy the opportunity way too much. And she can’t have scars—she’ll be devastated!”
Sasuke barely heard him, his focus locked on Hinata’s peaceful face. Her breathing was steady, her expression serene despite the ordeal. For now, she was safe, but Sasuke knew he wouldn’t truly rest until the one responsible was dealt with. His instincts demanded retribution, but he had entrusted the task to someone capable. Things were finally looking up—just not for the person who had hurt her.
But Naruto, never one to let something go, took a step closer and sniffed pointedly. His eyes widened, and his mouth twisted into a mischievous grin before Sasuke could even scold him for being so vulgar.
“You smell like her,” he said bluntly, his tone teasing. “And she smells like you. What the hell is going on? You’re not even courting yet, are you?”
Sasuke stiffened slightly but didn’t respond. Naruto’s grin widened as he leaned against the wall, crossing his arms. “I don’t get it. You’re all over each other, but you’re not... you know, official. Do you guys even realize how obvious you are?”
“Leave,” Sasuke said flatly, his tone sharp enough to make Naruto snicker.
“Oh, I’m not letting this go. When she wakes up, I’m asking her,” Naruto teased, turning to leave but throwing one last jab over his shoulder. “You’d better figure it out, Sasuke. Don’t pretend you don’t know what you’re doing, you’re just going to hurt her in the long run.”
Without waiting for a response, Naruto turned, the warnings coming out warmly, despite his attempt at playing it off as a joke. “Don’t take too long, man. You’re not the only one who can see how much she likes you.”
As the door clicked shut, Sasuke exhaled slowly, his gaze returning to Hinata’s serene face. Naruto’s words lingered in the quiet room, pressing against the edges of his thoughts. For now, they were a problem for another time. But deep down, he knew they couldn’t be ignored forever, and it wasn’t really a problem anymore.
VI.
“I’m not dancing with Sakura,” Sasuke muttered, his tone edged with irritation as they watched the newlyweds take their first dance. Hinata bit the inside of her cheek to stifle a laugh. He wasn’t trying to convince her, and they both knew it—he was just venting in his own serious and brooding way.
“And don’t go near Naruto,” he added as an afterthought, his voice taken by a possessiveness that made her raise an amused brow.
“Alpha,” Hinata said softly, her voice soothing like a balm to his frayed nerves. She reached up, her fingers brushing the back of his neck with a touch both intentional and calming. Sasuke turned to look at her, his jaw tight, and she caught the subtle twitch in his eye—a telltale sign of actual stress.
Her smile widened as she leaned closer.
“My nose is prickling,” he grumbled, already trying to pull her toward the exit. “I need to go outside.”
But Hinata stopped him with a gentle touch to his jaw, grounding him in place. His tension melted under her gaze, and when their lips finally met, the kiss was an intoxicating blend of dominance and surrender, demand and devotion. It left no room for hesitation, only the certainty that they were one and the same in that moment.
As they parted, she whispered with a teasing smile, “This is their day. Be nice?”
Sasuke tried to glare, but even he had to admit it was half-hearted at best. The effort to maintain it quickly faded, and with a resigned exhale, he pulled Hinata into his chest, his arms encircling her tightly. The embrace was so fierce it felt almost punitive, as if he meant to squeeze the argument out of her, but Hinata wasn’t complaining.
It was totally worth it.
She slid her arms around his waist, her fingers pressing into the muscles of his back as she buried her face against the warm space between his jaw and the collar of his shirt. His scent was intoxicating, pure and grounding, and she inhaled deeply, letting it soothe her completely.
“Mine,” Sasuke murmured, the single word carrying demand, plea, and reverence all at once.
Hinata sighed into his neck, her body relaxing fully into his.
In the moment, she thought maybe a big wedding wouldn’t be so bad after all. Convincing Sasuke of that might be her next challenge.