Chapter Text
The heavy oak doors of the King’s study clicked shut behind Hinata with a soft, final sound. She stood in the cold stone corridor, her fingers still curled around the iron handle, her head bowed. Inside, she could still hear the echo of her father’s voice, not loud, but sharp and clear as breaking ice.
“You are nothing like your sister, Hinata. Hanabi has the spirit of a warrior. She is strong. Skilled. You… you shy away from a sparring match as if it were a plague. I do not understand it.”
She hadn’t looked up. She never did. She had simply stared at the patterns in the stone floor, her hands hidden in the long sleeves of her kimono, her fingers working the soft fabric. He hadn’t mentioned the embroidery she had finished last night by candlelight, a gift for her mother’s memory shrine. He hadn't mentioned the herbs she had carefully tended in the quiet corner of the garden, the ones that helped the cook’s rheumatism. He never saw those things.
He saw what she was not.
Hinata took a slow, deep breath and began to walk, her wooden sandals making a soft clack-clack-clack against the stone. She tried to be strong. She really did. Every morning, before the sun had fully risen, she would force herself into the courtyard. She would raise her hands, trembling, and try to summon the fierce energy that came so easily to Hanabi. Her strikes felt soft, her stances uncertain. She didn’t like the feeling of her own fists, the violence of it. But she did it. She did it for him. To show him. It was never enough.
Lost in her thoughts, she turned a corner towards the quieter part of the palace, near the small garden she loved. A flash of dark hair and a familiar, determined stride met her.
“Onee-chan!”
Hanabi. At twelve, she was already holding herself with a poise that Hinata envied. Her eyes, unlike their father’s cold gaze, were warm with concern.
“You were with him again,” Hanabi stated, falling into step beside her. It wasn’t a question.
Hinata offered a small, tired smile. “He just… wishes for me to be better.”
“Better?” Hanabi scoffed, crossing her arms. “Better at what? Being miserable?” She then puffed out her chest, lowered her voice to a gruff, rumbling imitation of their father. “Hinata! You must be useful! You must be strong! A princess who cannot fight is like a bird with one wing!”
A surprised giggle escaped Hinata’s lips before she could stop it. She quickly hid her smile behind her palm. “Hanabi! You must not! He is our father.”
Hanabi rolled her eyes so dramatically her whole head moved. “He is impossible, is what he is. He doesn’t see anything. He doesn’t see you. He doesn’t see that you make the gardens beautiful, or that your hands create the most lovely things. He just sees what he wants us to be.” She paused, her expression shifting from annoyance to sly mischief. “Which reminds me.”
Hinata’s stomach fluttered with a sudden, unknown dread. “Reminds you of what?”
“I know,” Hanabi whispered, leaning in close, her eyes sparkling.
“Know what?” Hinata’s voice was barely a breath.
“I know about your little… adventures. At night. When you think everyone is asleep.” Hanabi grinned, a little fox of a sister.
Hinata felt the blood rush to her face, a hot wave of panic and embarrassment. “H-Hanabi! I… I don’t know what you…”
“Oh, please,” Hanabi laughed, linking her arm through Hinata’s and guiding her towards a secluded bench near a small koi pond. “I am a light sleeper. I heard your door one night. And then again. And again.” She squeezed her sister’s arm. “So. Tell me. Do you have a secret lover?”
“A l-lover!” Hinata’s voice squeaked. Her blush deepened, spreading from her cheeks to her ears and down her neck. She pressed her cool hands to her face, trying to stop the fire. “I… that is… it is not…”
“It is!” Hanabi gasped, delighted. “It is! Oh, Onee-chan, you must tell me! Who is it? Is he a handsome knight? A lord from a faraway land? A poet? Please, please, please tell me! I will die if you do not!”
Hinata looked at her sister, at the genuine excitement and love in her eyes. This was her dearest friend in the whole palace. The one person who truly saw her. Taking a shaky breath, she looked around to make sure they were alone. The only sounds were the gentle splash of the koi and the rustle of bamboo leaves.
“You must promise me, Hanabi,” she whispered, her voice serious. “You cannot tell anyone. Not a soul. Not Father. Not even Neji-niisan. Promise me on our mother’s memory.”
Hanabi’s playful expression softened into one of solemn understanding. She placed a small hand over her heart. “I promise, Onee-chan. On Mother’s memory, I will tell no one.”
Hinata looked down at her lap, her fingers twisting together. A soft, genuine smile touched her lips. “Her name… her name is Sakura.”
Hanabi blinked. Once. Twice. Her mouth formed a small ‘o’ of surprise. “Her?” she repeated, the word full of wonder, not judgment.
Hinata nodded, her eyes lifting to meet her sister’s. “Love is love, Hanabi. When you fall in love, you fall in love with a person. With their heart, and their soul. It does not matter if they are a prince or a… a healer’s apprentice.” Her voice grew softer, more certain. “And she… she is strong. The strongest person I know. Brave, and strong-willed, and so, so kind.”
A look of dawning recognition spread across Hanabi’s face. “Wait. A healer’s apprentice? Strong? Kind? You do not mean… the one who works with the great healer, Tsunade-sama? The one with the bright pink hair?”
Hinata’s blush returned, but this time it was accompanied by a shy, proud smile. “You know of her?”
“Everyone knows of her!” Hanabi exclaimed in a hushed whisper. “She is famous! They say she can heal almost anything. She came to the palace last winter when the old groundsman was so ill. And in the spring, when the little kitchen maid fell from the ladder.” Hanabi’s eyes widened. “That is how you know her! She visited when you were… when you were…” A gasp. “Were you ever truly sick, Onee-chan?”
Hinata’s eyes went wide. “What? Of course I was! I had a terrible cough that would not leave, remember?”
Hanabi’s grin returned, wider than before. “A convenient cough, perhaps? One that just happened to bring the pretty healer’s apprentice to your chambers again and again?”
“Hanabi!” Hinata squeaked, hiding her burning face in her hands. “That is not true! I would never… I was truly ill!”
Hanabi just laughed, a light, joyful sound. She threw her arms around her older sister, hugging her tight. “Oh, Onee-chan. I am so happy for you. A secret romance with a famous, beautiful healer. It is like a story from one of your books!” She pulled back, her face alight with curiosity. “Tell me everything. How did she first speak to you? Is she as brave as they say? Do you meet her in the garden at night?”
Hinata, still flustered but glowing with a happiness she rarely felt, took her sister’s hand. The worries about her father, the sting of his words, faded into the background. Here, in this quiet moment with her sister, she could speak of the thing that made her truly feel strong. Love.
The afternoon sun was warm on their shoulders as Hinata and Hanabi sat by the koi pond. Hanabi had her legs tucked under her, leaning close to her sister like a child waiting for a bedtime story.
"Tell me," Hanabi urged softly. "Tell me how it began."
Hinata looked at the water, at the orange fish swimming lazy circles. A small smile touched her lips. "It began with a fever."
She closed her eyes, and the memory came back like it was yesterday.
The room had been too warm and too cold at the same time. Hinata lay in her futon, the blankets pulled up to her chin, shaking one moment and burning the next. Her head felt stuffed with cotton, and every time she tried to open her eyes, the light from the paper screens hurt.
She heard the door slide open. Soft footsteps. Not her father's heavy stride. Not Hanabi's quick patter. Someone new.
"Princess Hinata?"
A voice she did not know. It was light and clear. Like water.
Hinata tried to sit up, to be proper, but her body would not obey. She managed to turn her head, and through half-closed eyes, she saw a girl. She was young. Not much older than herself. Hair the color of cherry blossoms in full bloom. Pink. She had never seen hair that color before.
"I am so sorry to intrude," the girl said, bowing low. Even in her fevered state, Hinata noticed the bow was perfect. Respectful. "Lady Tsunade was called to the village at the bottom of the hill. A child is having a difficult birth. She sent me in her place. I am Sakura. Her apprentice."
Hinata tried to speak, to welcome her, but only a small cough came out.
Sakura stepped closer, her green eyes soft with concern. "May I sit beside you? I need to check your fever. But only if you allow it."
Only if you allow it.
No one had ever said that to Hinata before. The healers who came always just did what they needed to do. Her father commanded. The servants anticipated. But this girl... this girl with pink hair and gentle eyes... she asked.
Hinata managed a small nod.
Sakura knelt beside the futon. "I am going to touch your forehead now. To feel how warm you are. Is that alright?"
Another nod.
Cool fingers pressed gently against Hinata's burning skin. The contrast made her shiver. Or maybe it was something else. Something in her chest that fluttered like a trapped bird.
"Your fever is high," Sakura murmured, more to herself than to Hinata. She pulled her hand back. "But we can bring it down. I will make you a tea. And a cool cloth for your head. Will you let me do that?"
Hinata looked up at her. At the kind eyes. At the strange beautiful hair. At the gentle smile that seemed to say I am here. You are safe.
And for reasons she could not explain, her heart stopped. Just for a moment. Just long enough for her to forget how to breathe.
"Yes," she whispered. "Please."
---
Sakura came every day for a week.
She would arrive in the morning with her basket of herbs and medicines. She would bow at the door and ask permission to enter. She would check Hinata's temperature, always asking first. She would make tea and help Hinata sit up to drink it. She would change the cool cloth on her forehead and tell her stories about the village, about the people she treated, about the funny things children said when they were sick.
And Hinata, who had spent most of her life quiet and alone, found herself talking back.
She told Sakura about the garden. About the flowers she loved best, the ones that bloomed at night and smelled like honey. She showed her the embroidery she had been working on before she fell ill, a small pouch with lavender stitched along the edge. Sakura held it like it was made of gold.
"You made this?" she asked, her eyes wide. "It is beautiful. I could never do something so delicate. My hands are better at breaking things than making them."
And she laughed. A real laugh. Not a polite court laugh. A laugh that crinkled her eyes and made her cheeks round.
Hinata wanted to hear that laugh forever.
By the end of the week, the fever was gone. Hinata was well again. And she was heartbroken.
Because Sakura would not need to come anymore.
---
But fate, Hinata learned, had other plans.
A month later, the palace held a ball. A celebration for the harvest. All the important families would come. There would be music and dancing and too many people. Hinata dreaded it. She would stand in the corner, as she always did. She would watch Hanabi charm everyone. She would wait for it to be over.
She wore a kimono the color of twilight, dark blue with silver threads like stars. Her mother's hairpins held her hair in place. She looked, the servants told her, very beautiful. She did not feel it.
The ballroom was loud and warm and full of strangers' faces. Hinata found her corner, pressed her back against the wall, and tried to disappear.
And then she saw pink.
Sakura stood near the refreshment table, looking completely lost. She wore a simple dress, not fine like the court ladies, but clean and pretty. Her hair was pulled back with a simple ribbon. She was scanning the crowd, and she looked... nervous.
Hinata's feet moved before her mind could stop them.
"Sakura-san?"
Sakura turned. Her face lit up like sunrise. "Princess Hinata!" She bowed quickly, flustered. "I did not expect... I mean, I was invited because I helped deliver the village child, and Lady Tsunade said I should come, but I do not know anyone and I was just about to hide in the garden..."
Hinata felt a smile growing on her face. A real smile. "I was hiding in this corner. We could hide together?"
Sakura laughed, that wonderful laugh. "That is the best offer I have had all night."
They slipped out to the garden. The same garden where Hinata now sat with Hanabi. The moon was full. The night-blooming flowers were open, filling the air with sweet perfume.
They talked for hours.
Sakura told her about her training, how hard it was, how Lady Tsunade screamed at her sometimes but also praised her when she did well. She told her about her friend Naruto, who was loud and annoying but would give you his last coin if you needed it. About her other friend Sasuke, who was quiet and brooding but brave when it mattered.
Hinata listened. And for the first time in her life, someone listened back.
Sakura wanted to know about the embroidery. About the garden. About the books Hinata read. She did not ask about fighting or strength or being useful. She asked about Hinata.
"When I am with you," Hinata found herself saying, "I do not feel like I have to be someone else. I can just... be."
Sakura's eyes softened. "That is how I feel too. With you."
Something passed between them. Something warm and quiet and precious.
---
After that night, they found ways to meet.
A servant carried letters hidden in baskets of laundry. Sakura would find excuses to visit the palace, checking on servants who were not really sick. And at night, when the palace slept, Hinata would slip out to the garden. To the bench by the koi pond. To the place where the night-blooming flowers grew.
Sakura would be waiting.
They would sit close together, shoulders touching. They would talk about their days. They would laugh quietly so no one would hear. Sometimes they just sat in silence, watching the moon move across the sky.
One night, Sakura reached out and took Hinata's hand.
Hinata's heart stopped again. Just like the first time.
"I think," Sakura whispered, her voice shaky, "I think I feel something for you. Something more than friendship. And I understand if you do not feel the same, but I had to say it because I have never felt this way before and I cannot keep it inside-"
Hinata squeezed her hand.
"I feel it too," she whispered back. "I have felt it since the first day. When you asked if you could touch my forehead."
Sakura turned to look at her. In the moonlight, her eyes were bright. "Really?"
Hinata nodded. And then, because it felt right, because it was the most natural thing in the world, she leaned her head against Sakura's shoulder.
"I do not know what this means," Hinata said softly. "I do not know what we can be. My father..."
"I know," Sakura said. "I know it is complicated. I know it might be dangerous. But Hinata..." She lifted their joined hands and pressed a kiss to Hinata's knuckles. "You are worth the risk."
Back by the koi pond, afternoon sunlight warm on her face, Hinata opened her eyes. Hanabi was staring at her, mouth slightly open, eyes shining.
"She kissed your hand?" Hanabi whispered. "In the moonlight? That is the most romantic thing I have ever heard."
Hinata blushed. "It was... it was very sweet."
"And now? You meet her still? In the garden?"
Hinata nodded. "Whenever we can. It is not often. She is busy with her training. I am busy with... with trying to please Father. But we find moments."
Hanabi was quiet for a moment. Then she leaned forward and hugged her sister tight.
"Onee-chan," she murmured against Hinata's shoulder. "I am so glad you have this. Someone who sees you. Someone who loves you for you."
Hinata hugged her back, tears pricking at her eyes. "Thank you, Hanabi. For listening. For understanding."
Hanabi pulled back and grinned, wiping at her own eyes. "Of course I understand. You are my sister. And anyone who makes you smile like that... well. I already like her."
Hinata laughed softly. "She would like you too. She likes everyone. That is just who she is."
The koi splashed in the pond. The bamboo rustled in the breeze. And for a little while, the weight of the palace, of their father's expectations, seemed very far away.
To Be Continued.