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Morning filtered in through the curtains in pale gold bands, stretching lazily across the bed.
Naruto stirred beneath the warmth of the blankets, groaning softly as consciousness returned in pieces. He rolled onto his side out of habit.
Hinata was already awake.
She lay facing him, hair loose around her shoulders, eyes bright in the quiet light. When their gazes met, she smiled — not wide, not dramatic, just that gentle curve that always made something in his chest settle.
“Morning,” he murmured, voice thick with sleep.
“You overslept,” she said softly.
He squinted at the window. “I did not.”
“You did.”
He huffed. “The sun’s barely up.”
“You said you had an early meeting.”
Naruto blinked at her, then groaned and dragged a hand down his face. “Traitor,” he muttered. “You should’ve woken me sooner.”
“You wouldn’t have listened.”
He gave her a look.
She was right.
He reached across the mattress and tugged lightly at her wrist. “Five more minutes.”
She laughed under her breath but let him pull her closer. He buried his face briefly against her shoulder, breathing in that faint, clean scent that clung to her hair.
“You’re going to be late,” she reminded him.
“I’m Hokage. I can’t be late. I arrive dramatically.”
“You complain dramatically.”
He pulled back, mock-offended. “Wow. First thing in the morning and you’re attacking me.”
Her eyes softened. “Just telling the truth.”
He studied her for a second — the steady way she looked at him, the quiet fondness there — then sighed and pushed himself upright.
“Fine, fine. I’m up.”
She followed a second later, slipping from the bed and smoothing her hair back from her face. The floor creaked lightly as they crossed the room together.
In the bathroom, Naruto flicked on the light and reached for his toothbrush. Two rested in the holder.
Blue.
Lavender.
He squeezed toothpaste onto his, then held the tube out toward her automatically. She stepped closer beside him, shoulders brushing his.
He caught her reflection in the mirror.
“You think they’ll argue about the patrol routes again?” he asked around the toothbrush.
“They always do.”
“Yeah, but this time they’re pretending it’s about funding.” He rolled his eyes. “It’s not.”
She hummed thoughtfully.
He leaned closer to the mirror. “Shikamaru’s going to give me that look.”
“What look?”
“The ‘you volunteered for this’ look.”
She smiled at that.
Naruto rinsed his mouth and wiped his chin with the back of his hand. “I’ll try to get back early,” he added, glancing sideways at her reflection. “If they don’t drag it out.”
“Don’t skip lunch,” she said.
He groaned. “You and Sakura are the same.”
“That’s because she’s right.”
He nudged her gently with his elbow. “Unbelievable. I get no support in my own house.”
“You get plenty.”
He laughed under his breath.
They moved into the kitchen together, the house still quiet around them. Naruto opened the window slightly to let the morning air in.
“I was thinking,” he said, reaching for the kettle, “maybe we could go to Ichiraku tonight. If I’m not too late.”
“You said that last week.”
“And I meant it last week.”
She leaned lightly against the counter, watching him as he busied himself.
“I’ll mean it again today,” he insisted.
“You’ll be tired.”
“I’m always tired.”
“That’s my point.”
He shot her a sideways grin. “You worry too much.”
“And you don’t worry enough.”
He paused, glancing at her. The look on her face wasn’t scolding — just calm. Grounded.
It made the kitchen feel warmer somehow.
He stepped closer, reaching out as if to straighten a strand of hair near her cheek. His hand lingered there a second before dropping back to his side.
“I’ll be back before dinner,” he said more quietly.
“I know.”
He nodded once, as if sealing the promise.
After grabbing his cloak, he stepped toward the entryway. Hinata followed him, stopping just inside the doorway as he slipped on his sandals.
“Don’t let them bully you,” she said lightly.
“Me?” He scoffed. “Never.”
She smiled again.
He opened the door, morning light spilling across the floorboards.
“I’m going,” he said.
“I’ll be here.”
He hesitated only a fraction of a second — just enough to look at her properly.
Then he left.
The door clicked shut.
Inside, the house remained still, sunlight stretching slowly across the kitchen tiles.
Warm.
Quiet.
Waiting.
The Hokage Tower was already buzzing when Naruto arrived.
Paperwork stacked high. Voices drifting through open doors. The faint scratch of pens and the murmur of shinobi waiting for assignments.
Naruto shrugged off his cloak and dropped into his chair with a familiar sigh. “Morning.”
Shikamaru didn’t look up immediately. “You’re three minutes late.”
“That’s not late. That’s stylish.”
“That’s late.”
Naruto grinned and reached for the nearest stack of documents. “You worry too much.”
“Someone has to.”
They worked in companionable rhythm for a while — Naruto signing, Shikamaru organizing, the steady pulse of administrative life moving around them.
After a few minutes, Naruto leaned back in his chair and stretched.
“Hinata says I should stop skipping lunch.”
The words were casual. Automatic. The kind of thing he’d said a hundred times before.
Shikamaru’s pen stopped.
Just for a second.
It hovered above the paper.
Then he resumed writing.
“Yeah?” he said evenly.
“Yeah. Apparently I’m setting a bad example.”
Shikamaru turned a page. “She’s not wrong.”
Naruto smirked. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”
“Troublesome. I’m on the side of you not collapsing in the middle of a council meeting.”
Naruto laughed at that.
But Shikamaru didn’t.
Not fully.
He finally glanced up, dark eyes studying Naruto a beat longer than necessary.
“You sleeping okay?” he asked.
Naruto shrugged. “Fine. Why?”
“No reason.”
Naruto frowned slightly. “You’ve asked me that twice this week.”
Shikamaru’s gaze shifted back to the paperwork. “You’ve been working a lot.”
“Hinata makes sure I get to bed at a decent time.”
Another pause.
This one softer.
Shorter.
But there.
Shikamaru stacked the completed forms into a neat pile. “That’s good,” he said.
Naruto tilted his head. “You’re acting weird.”
“I’m always weird.”
“Not like this.”
Shikamaru exhaled slowly through his nose. “Naruto.”
There was something careful in the way he said his name.
Measured.
Then—
“Never mind.”
Naruto stared at him for a moment, waiting.
When nothing followed, he huffed lightly and went back to signing.
Outside the window, the wind stirred the village trees.
Inside, the room felt unchanged.
But Shikamaru’s pen pressed harder against the paper than it had before.
And he didn’t look at Naruto again for a while.
Later, in the hallway, Sakura caught up to him.
“Naruto.”
He turned, offering her an easy grin. “Hey, Sakura-chan. Done scolding patients for the day?”
“Always.”
She fell into step beside him. For a moment, they walked in silence.
“How are you?” she asked.
He lifted a shoulder. “Fine. Busy.”
“I meant—” She hesitated. “At home.”
He smiled automatically. “Quiet. Hinata’s been keeping things peaceful.”
Sakura’s steps slowed.
Just slightly.
“That’s… good,” she said.
Naruto glanced at her. “You don’t sound convinced.”
“I just—” She stopped walking altogether.
He took another step before realizing she wasn’t beside him anymore. He turned back.
Her expression was composed.
Too composed.
“You know you can call me,” she said. “If things get hard.”
He laughed lightly. “Things aren’t hard.”
Sakura held his gaze.
And for a split second—
There was something there.
Not confusion.
Not disagreement.
Something he couldn’t quite name.
Naruto’s smile thinned, just a little. “Sakura.”
She blinked, and whatever it was disappeared.
“Never mind,” she said quickly. “Just… don’t skip lunch.”
He groaned. “You too?”
She almost smiled.
Almost.
Naruto swung open the door to his home, calling out cheerfully.
“Hinata! I’m home!”
From the kitchen came a soft shuffle. Hinata was there, standing by the counter, looking perfectly ordinary. She turned toward him with a gentle smile.
“Welcome home, Naruto,” she said softly.
Naruto grinned, holding up the take-out container. “Guess what? I brought Ichiraku to us! No need to brave the streets — we can eat right here, cozy and comfy.”
He carried the container over to the dining table and set down two bowls and two pairs of chopsticks.
Hinata tilted her head, her smile serene. “That’s… very thoughtful. But I already ate. I’ll just sit with you while you eat.”
Naruto shrugged, completely fine with that. “Sure, no problem!”
He pulled out her chair with a flourish.
“Here you go,” he said, gesturing for her to sit.
Hinata eased herself into the chair gracefully, hands folded neatly on her lap. She looked completely at ease.
Naruto dug into his ramen with gusto, steam curling around him. “Man, today at the office was nuts! Meetings back-to-back, paperwork stacking up… Shikamaru giving me that look like I’ve lost my mind. You’d laugh if you saw it!”
Hinata nodded, watching him with quiet attention. “I’m glad you’re home now. It must have been a long day.”
Naruto laughed, slurping a long strand of noodles. “Yeah, and nothing beats Ichiraku to make it all better! Even better when I have company.” He glanced at her, smiling. “Thanks for keeping me company, Hinata. Makes it feel… nice. Like real home.”
Hinata smiled faintly, her presence calm and reassuring. Naruto looked at her and felt a warmth spread through his chest. This was perfect — normal, soft, domestic. Just them, sharing a quiet evening with ramen, like married life should be.
Naruto sank back in his chair, rubbing at his eyes. The stack of paperwork in front of him seemed to grow by the second, and the meetings hadn’t let up since morning. Reports, memos, budget proposals… it was enough to make even him, the ever-energetic ninja, feel completely drained.
“Man… when did paperwork get so intense?” he muttered, leaning back and glancing at the clock. Almost lunchtime.
From across the room, Shikamaru looked up from his own desk, expression calm as ever, though there was a faint hint of exasperation in his eyes. “Naruto… you look like you’re about to collapse. You’ve been running yourself ragged all morning.”
Naruto forced a grin. “Yeah, well… the Hokage’s office doesn’t run itself!”
Shikamaru leaned back in his chair, stretching lazily. “You know what? You deserve a break. Why don’t I treat you to Ichiraku for lunch? You’ve been working your tail off today.”
Naruto’s eyes lit up. “You’d do that?”
Shikamaru nodded. “Yeah, I figure you’ve earned it. Come on, let’s get out of here for a little while.”
Naruto practically jumped out of his chair, shoving his paperwork aside. “Yes! Finally! I was starting to forget what fresh air felt like.”
The two of them made their way through the bustling streets of Konoha, chatting casually as they went. Naruto couldn’t help but chatter about small things—his morning, a funny thing a civilian said, a minor mix-up with a report—but Shikamaru mostly just nodded, occasionally rolling his eyes at Naruto’s endless energy.
When they reached Ichiraku, the familiar scent of broth and noodles hit Naruto like a warm hug. Teuchi was behind the counter, and Ayame was helping him serve customers. Both of them glanced up as Naruto and Shikamaru entered.
“Naruto! Shikamaru! It’s nice to see you two here,” Teuchi said warmly, his eyes twinkling. “How’s work treating you, Naruto?”
Naruto grinned, slapping the counter lightly. “Non-stop chaos, Old man! But hey, that’s the Hokage’s office for you. It’s good to see a friendly face.”
Ayame smiled gently, glancing at Teuchi before quickly looking away. “It’s been a while, Naruto. You should come by more often.”
“Will do! It’s too good here not to,” Naruto said, still grinning. He looked at Shikamaru, who had quietly taken a seat at the counter. “I don’t know how you put up with all this calm, Shikamaru. It’s weirdly relaxing… but I can’t stop thinking about work anyway.”
Shikamaru just rolled his eyes. “You talk too much.”
Naruto stepped into the quiet of his home, the soft click of the door behind him echoing slightly in the empty hallway. The day had been long—back-to-back meetings, mountains of paperwork, and a brief but welcome stop at Ichiraku—but now, finally, he was home.
He paused by the bedroom, rubbing at his temples. “Time to get out of this cloak,” he muttered to himself, heading toward the closet.
Sliding the doors open, he rifled through the neatly folded clothes. A pair of sweatpants, a comfortable t-shirt… and then, just to make things easier, he grabbed the nightgown he knew Hinata liked. It wasn’t anything fancy—just soft cotton—but it was hers, and he figured she’d appreciate having it ready.
“Can’t hurt to be thoughtful,” he said with a quiet grin, setting it gently on the bed.
He changed quickly, relishing the relief of something soft and easy against his skin. The day’s stress slowly melted away as he slipped under the blankets, the familiar scent of his home wrapping around him like a warm hug.
“Where is she?” Naruto wondered aloud, glancing toward the kitchen. He could hear faint sounds of movement, but it seemed to be taking a long time. Hinata was usually quick with anything she did in the kitchen, so the slow pace caught his curiosity.
He shifted in bed, propping himself on one elbow to peek toward the doorway, imagining her bustling about with her usual quiet efficiency. Maybe she was preparing a little snack, or tidying something. Whatever it was, he couldn’t help but smile at the thought of her small, careful movements.
“I’ll just wait a little,” he murmured.
Minutes passed. The quiet of the house, the soft hum of the ceiling fan, and the lingering warmth of the blankets around him started to weigh pleasantly on his eyelids. He adjusted the pillow, stretched lazily, and tried to keep his mind on the faint noises from the kitchen—but the day, the ramen, the comfort of home, it all conspired against him.
Before he knew it, his eyes fluttered shut.
The last thought he had before sleep fully claimed him was a soft, contented smile at the idea of Hinata moving around the house somewhere, quietly doing… whatever it was she did.
The house was peaceful. Naruto was at home. And for the first time in a long day, he felt completely, blissfully at ease.
Naruto sat back in his chair, fingers drumming absentmindedly against the desk. The stacks of paperwork, the endless memos, the meetings he had been dragged through—it all felt distant now. Shikamaru had stepped outside for a smoke break, leaving Naruto alone in the Hokage’s office, and the silence was… almost luxurious.
He leaned back, stretched his arms overhead, and let his shoulders roll. The tension in his neck and back eased with each slow breath. Rising from the chair, he walked over to the large windows that overlooked the village.
From here, Konoha spread out beneath him like a living tapestry. Children ran along the streets, chasing each other with carefree laughter. Shinobi went about their duties with quiet focus, greeting the villagers they passed with nods or brief smiles. Market stalls buzzed with activity, their colorful banners flapping gently in the breeze.
Naruto’s gaze softened as he watched. For all the chaos the world could throw at them, here and now, everyone seemed… peaceful. Happy. Safe.
Then his eyes caught a different scene. Rock Lee and Tenten were walking through the market, their pace slow, their expressions solemn. Even Lee’s usual bright energy was dimmed, and Naruto’s stomach tightened slightly at the sight.
“They’re going to the cemetery,” he murmured to himself, recognition sinking in.
Lee carried a bouquet of tall, vibrant sunflowers, while Tenten held a smaller arrangement of pristine white lilies. Naruto remembered the time Hinata told him long ago that sunflowers had been Neji’s favorite. He could guess immediately that the sunflowers were for him.
But the white lilies… Naruto tilted his head, curiosity gnawing at him. He couldn’t place it. Who were the lilies for?
He watched them move on, weaving carefully through the crowds, each step measured and deliberate. The weight of their purpose contrasted sharply with the peaceful energy around them, and Naruto’s chest ached a little for the friends he had lost, for the family that had been taken from him, for the quiet moments of grief they all carried in their own way.
Naruto closed his eyes for a second, letting the sun warm his face through the window. He breathed in deeply and allowed himself a moment of gratitude—grateful that the village remained whole, grateful that the people he cared about could honor their memories, grateful for the fleeting calm before the next storm of responsibilities hit.
He opened his eyes, lingering on the empty streets now behind Lee and Tenten, and whispered softly, almost as if talking to himself, “I hope you’re at peace, Neji… and whoever the lilies are for.”
For a long moment, he simply watched, letting the world continue beneath him while he stood quietly at the window, part of it but apart, reflective and silently protective of everything he had sworn to defend.
Then, with a small, resolute sigh, he turned back to his desk. Papers still waited. Meetings would still come. But for now, he carried that quiet moment with him, tucked carefully into the corner of his heart.
The sun had started its slow descent over Konoha, painting the streets in soft amber as Naruto left the Hokage’s office. His shoulders were heavy with the weight of the day, but his pace was steady—automatic, practiced.
As he rounded the corner near the marketplace, he almost ran into Sai and Ino, who were walking in the opposite direction. Both stopped abruptly, and Ino’s brow furrowed immediately.
“Naruto, wait,” she said, falling into step beside him. “You’ve been buried in the office all day. Are you eating properly?”
Naruto shrugged, grinning. “I manage. You know me—I survive.”
Sai’s expression, though usually unreadable, carried a faint crease of concern. “You’ve been… distant lately,” he said carefully, matching Naruto’s pace. “You talk to no one, you skip breaks… I just want to make sure you’re okay.”
Naruto glanced between them. “I’m fine. Really. Just… work’s been busy.” He forced a laugh, but it sounded hollow even to him.
Ino hesitated, looking down at the cobblestones before meeting his eyes again. “Busy or… something else?”
Naruto shook his head quickly. “Nope. Nothing else. Honestly.”
Sai walked a step closer, lowering his voice slightly. “Naruto… you shouldn’t be alone right now.”
Naruto froze mid-step, brow furrowing in confusion. His gaze flicked past Sai, down the street. “I’m not alone,” he said, his tone automatic, but there was a pause… a slight hesitation he didn’t quite understand himself.
Ino tilted her head, sensing the tension, but said nothing. Sai’s eyes lingered on Naruto for a beat longer, unreadable as ever.
Naruto forced another smile, brushing past them. “I’ll be fine. Really.”
They nodded, both appearing uncertain but letting him go. As he walked on, Naruto couldn’t shake the tiny prickling unease at the back of his mind—the way Sai had said it, the way Ino had looked.
But he pushed it aside, focusing instead on the familiar streets, the sound of chatter in the markets, and the thought of home.
Home… where he wasn’t really alone.
Naruto left the Hokage’s office earlier than usual, letting the quiet hum of paperwork and chatter fade behind him. He knew Hinata wouldn’t mind if he was a few minutes late—she never did. Normally, he would have headed straight home, but today he felt an odd pull. He decided, almost on a whim, to stop by the cemetery.
He didn’t like visiting the graves often. He preferred to feel the people he had lost around him—in sunlight, in the laughter of the village, in the pulse of life itself. The cemetery felt too still, too final. But still… he walked the familiar path.
His first stop was his parents’ graves. He crouched, brushing away a thin layer of dust and dirt. Whispering words of love and gratitude, voice soft and almost unsure. He had never really known them, never had the chance to, yet he spoke anyway. It was habit, ritual, a way to keep a connection alive that had never truly existed.
He rose and continued down the path, his steps quiet on the gravel. Neji’s grave came into view, and immediately, he spotted the bright sunflowers carefully placed against the stone. Lee and Tenten. He knew without asking. Naruto crouched, fingertips brushing over the carved name:
Neji Hyuuga.
“Thanks,” he whispered, low, steady. “For saving me… for saving Hinata… for everything.”
He took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the past pressing gently against him, and he straightened, ready to leave.
Then he saw them.
White lilies. Elegant, pristine, untouched, nestled beside the sunflowers.
They were the same flowers Lee and Tenten had carried when they came to the cemetery.
Curiosity nudged him forward. He walked slowly, almost hesitantly, toward the stones beneath the lilies, expecting maybe some distant relative or friend he didn’t know. But as he leaned closer, reading the delicate, precise letters carved into the stone…
Hinata Uzumaki.
The world around him seemed to tilt. The wind stilled. The leaves hung motionless in the trees. His mind raced, grasping for any explanation. She was supposed to be at home, waiting for him. Smiling. Brewing tea. Laughing at his terrible jokes. Alive.
He staggered back a step, cold running through him. The sunlight no longer felt warm, the village below the hill no longer alive. Just empty, silent, and final.
Hinata… dead.
And yet, somehow, she felt closer than ever.
Naruto swallowed hard, chest tight, as a chill threaded through him. He wanted to scream, to curse the world, to shatter the stones beneath his feet—but all he could do was stare. Stare at the name that shouldn’t be there, at the white lilies that should have belonged nowhere.
Hinata Uzumaki.
The sound of the wind in the trees seemed to mock him, carrying a whisper he couldn’t place. He wanted to run, to leave, to go home, but his legs refused.
Six months.
It had been six months since Hinata had died on that mission—so sudden, so final. Naruto remembered the moment with crystal clarity: the roar of the wind, the dust, the way her hand felt small and fragile in his. He had held it until the medics pulled him away, until there was nothing left but the memory of warmth, and then silence.
At her funeral, he had not cried. Not a single tear. People whispered behind his back, eyes full of pity. “He’s in denial,” they said. “It’s temporary. He’ll break soon.”
He had only said, softly, almost reverently, “She’s just resting.”
It wasn’t denial. Not in the way they imagined.
Because she was still here, still with him. He had rebuilt her. Every corner of the house carried her. Every bowl, every toothbrush, every quiet routine mirrored her presence. Her laughter, her small sighs, the way she leaned against him when no one else was around—it was all here.
She had not left. Not truly.
And he would make sure no one ever told him otherwise.