Chapter 33
After two years on mission, Naruto came home to her breathless and bleeding, calling her name.
Her day had started normally enough; she finished an extra shift at the hospital, bought seeds from Ino’s shop, dropped them off at Shino’s place, and met Iruka for lunch. She came back to her apartment and napped, catching up on lost sleep, her body aching, her chakra depleted. She woke to the evening air coming in through her window, and Hanabi’s fingers brushing her hair from her face.
“Time for practice,” she’d said, and Hinata had smiled.
She worked her body hard, until her muscles begged for relief from movement, from strain. She laid on the tatami mats afterwards, with Hanabi at her side, and they laughed about something one of Hanabi’s teammates had done earlier that morning. When they’d exhausted most topics, they fell into a comfortable silence, lying side-by-side with their minds otherwise occupied. Hinata felt the muscles in her chest aching, making her heart feel heavy. She thought of Naruto.
By the time she made it back to her apartment she could barely stand, exhaustion riding her hard. Still, she made herself a cup of tea and sat out on her terrace, admiring her neighborhood. Even in the silence there was no silence; Konoha was a village that never slept.
She could hear bugs chittering, birds chirping, cats meowing. Somewhere voices echoed back to her, fuzzy and indistinct. She sipped at her tea and watched the clouds filter across the sky, inching leisurely towards the mountains. The trees of Konoha spoke softly to one another, leaves flickering and dancing. Everything felt peaceful. Hinata closed her eyes and thought of Naruto, somewhere out there in the world, fighting for the peace the people of Konoha were so lucky to have. If she focused hard enough, she could almost feel his lips against her neck, his arms wrapping around her, the way his fingertips would trail over her cheek to tuck her hair behind her ear.
Something below her crashed to the ground in a shattering impact, making her jump. Her heart raced as she glanced over the railing and saw her neighbor standing over a wooden crate that was a little worse for wear, now that it’d been dropped.
“Need help with that, Hori-san?”
“No, no,” he called, waving her away. “I’ve got it under control.”
Hinata watched a moment longer to make sure he did in fact have things under control, and was satisfied only when he made it back into his place, wooden crate in hand. She turned back to the village stretched out before her with a sigh, allowing her tensed muscles to relax. There was tension in her neck, riding over her shoulders. She had never been the kind of person to complain, especially about something like this, but somehow Naruto had always known. If he was here now, she thought, he would’ve come up behind her, placed his square hands on her, rubbed the tension right out of her. She’d close her eyes and lean into the touch, his hands—large, scarred, beautiful—would play her like a fine-tuned instrument. Did he know that she’d sing any tune he wanted from her with the barest of touches? He had to have known.
A quiet breath of a noise escaped her lips; something in the same family as a sob. It reminded her of what she was missing out on, of who. The pain she felt was different than the kind in her muscles, different even than the still-healing laceration over her ribs. It was a quiet kind of pain, subversive and undulating. Constant in the absence of a cure. She blinked, slower than usual, and behind her eyelids she saw his smile.
She tried to focus back in on the muted sounds of life, the creatures and the trees. They were a welcome distraction from thoughts of her loneliness. It was still recent, this Hyuuga Hinata who had convinced herself that she could live without Naruto in her life, though it had taken her far longer than she was comfortable with. She had always known that she loved him, that she wanted to be with him. She had always thought that even if he never returned her feelings, he would still be in her life as a good friend, a future leader. Even though she retained hope—that he would return her feelings, that they could be together, that it would be easy—there was still a part of her that doubted.
But Naruto had a way of surprising her.
First, there were his feelings. Not longer after she fought Pain, Naruto came to her. It was the first time she’d ever seen him uncertain, stumbling for words. She’d tried to help him, even as her heart felt fractured by each word.
“Naruto-kun, it’s okay,” she’d said, playing at more strength than she’d actually felt. “I understand.”
“Do you?” He’d asked, and there’d been a wave of relief in his voice, enough to wash over her, to drown every last portal of hope. But then, in the same moment that she felt so entirely wrecked, he had moved towards her, reaching for her, pulling her in. She could still remember the strength of him, the feeling of his strong chest under her cheek. Her surprised gasp, his hum of approval. She remembered his words.
“Sometimes I just don’t know how to say it,” he’d explained, amused but frustrated. “So I just…do it. Does that make sense?”
And Hinata, wrapped up in his arms with his temple pressed against her hair, finally understood. He hadn’t been rejecting her. He’d been accepting her. Returning her feelings. Reciprocating.
Later, she’d blame her loss of consciousness on her still-healing lethal wounds from the Pain fight, which wasn’t a total lie. She had been healing. But the power of her emotions in that moment, the rush of relief and joy and understanding—Naruto liked her, too. It was overpowering.
That was only the first surprise in a line of many. He loved quicker and deeper than she had ever, ever anticipated. Her life become a series of joyful experiences with Naruto at her side, his laugher a constant, his touch even more so.
Then, the worst surprise.
A mission, he’d said, hushed and hurried in her apartment. I’m not even supposed to be here but I couldn’t just leave like they told me to, I couldn’t just leave you. It’s gonna be long, Hinata, I don’t have an exact time yet but, oh, no, don’t do that, please don’t do that.
The weight of his words, his actions, his leaving—all of it came crashing down upon her. She bore it bravely, as well as she could, and she did not cry. She stayed strong for him but inside her heart was breaking; what did “long” even mean?
It meant that she had not seen Naruto for just over two years, since that night he’d come to her in her apartment to hold her close and disclose information that was classified. Two years since he’d leaned down and pressed his lips to hers, a promise of return breathed into her.
Then he’d vanished, leaving nothing behind but the legend of his name, his actions. She had some of his clothes in her apartment, some little knickknacks he’d brought over to share with her. She slept in his shirt nearly every night, and his shorts every other. In those two years she did not stray, even when people came to her and asked for her time, her affection. Her friends were supportive and encouraging—told her constantly that this was Naruto, of course he’d come home soon.
Two years.
Hinata closed her eyes and listened to the trees. Her hands clenched tighter around her mug, pressing it to her lips just so she could feel the heat. For a moment, she was thoroughly distracted by her surroundings. She listened, she breathed.
But then she found herself listening to something else, an outlier, strange and unversed.
An echo, a voice. Unlike those that still rung through the streets. It rang lowly through the walls around her neighborhood, bouncing off wood and plaster. It curled around her with a strange kind of familiarity, made her heart race and her breath catch. No, she thought, suddenly overcome with equal parts doubt and hope. Unconsciously, she glanced towards the Hokage tower, as if she could see through the distance and the walls to the people within. If she activated her Byakugan, maybe, maybe—
And then—There, A flash of orange.
Hinata’s breath caught in her chest and her mug slipped through her fingers, a quieter echo of shattering than the crate just before it. She was the last to shatter. There, sliding to a stop just within view, was Uzumaki Naruto.
He—
“Hinata!” He called, and the edge of desperation in his voice was what made her move. She leapt over the railing and only paused to land safely on her sore muscles before running towards him, his name already curled around her tongue. He ran to her, quicker than she remembered him being, and swept her up into his arms in an instant. They held onto each other tightly, temples touching for only a moment before they pulled away, his hands on her cheeks, hers on his chest, their foreheads touching. Tears streamed down her cheeks to meet his thumbs, and he whispered her name into the air between them like a prayer.
“Naruto-kun,” she breathed, shaken and breathless, her words coming faster than her thoughts. “You’re home. Welcome home. Are you hurt? Are you okay?” I’ve missed you, I’ve missed you, I’ve missed you.
Naruto leaned forwards and took her lips between his own, pressed as close to her as he could. Neither of them cared about the stares, the chattering of bystanders passing by. There was no one outside of one another—Naruto lifted her jaw for a better angle and whispered comforts against the softness of her lips. She brought her hands up to grasp his nape, to hold him to her, her fingers sliding into his hair—longer than she remembered.
“I’m okay,” he said, his voice trembling. “Shit, no. I’m not okay. I’m not gonna lie to you. I don’t have to pretend with you.”
She felt the quiver in him and instantly wrapped her arms around him, regardless of how exhausted she was herself. She took much of his weight upon herself, helping to hold him up, and guided him into the shelter of her arms. She shepherded him towards her front door, up the steps and into the safety of her space.
She hummed to him, a soothing rumble against his ribs, and watched him wilt over her. She assessed him even as she comforted him, searching for injury, finding only dried blood. There was a cut on his chest, but it was minor. Bleeding but not serious.
“Where are you hurt?” She asked, her voice quiet and soothing. She sat him on her couch and moved between his knees, looking up at him with her hands on his waist. She expected him to gesture to his chest, a broken rib she might’ve missed—that would explain the quivering—or a limp she’d somehow overlooked. Instead, he surprised her completely by pointing instead to his temples, gripping his own face.
“Here,” he said, a moment before he broke down in her arms. “Here.”
Hinata’s heart broke, and broke, and broke. Naruto’s trauma was internal, trapped and relentless in his mind, his memories; what he had seen and what he had done, all of it. She moved into him, wrapping her arms around his head, pulling him into the shelter of her care. She tucked his face against her neck and hummed a tune that Kurenai had taught her as a child.
Naruto’s breathing eventually evened out, and this, the most recent surprise: he fell asleep in her arms. She was still kneeling between his legs, taking all of his weight. She shifted carefully, barely jostling him, laying him down along the couch. She settled him there as comfortable as she could, and stood to retrieve a blanket from the den. Before she could move a step away, his fingers were around her wrist, gently pulling her towards him. When she glanced back at him his eyes were heavy, puffy, but open and watchful.
“Stay,” he said, just this side of questioning, and so completely vulnerable. “Please.”
“Alright,” she responded, easily. She crawled over him until the couch cushions pressed against her back, and wrapped herself around him as best as she could. She held him close and tight, pulling him into her heat, allowing herself to become the shelter he needed. His breathing evened out not long after, and Hinata marveled at the sudden change in her reality.
Naruto was here. He was home, and he had come to her first. And he was hurting. There was no way for her to prepare for his return, though she had always imagined preparing a party for him last-minute, since there was no way for her to actually plan around his surprise return. Still, she’d imagined their friends coming together around him, going dancing, eating together. She’d never imagined this; Naruto broken and barely holding it together, laying on her couch in her arms in the silence of her apartment.
She laid there awake for hours, unable to sleep, comfortable just being present for him when he so clearly needed her. She rubbed her cheek gently against his back, trying to soothe him further even as he was unconscious. Her mind raced around the possibilities of what could’ve broken him down like this, and she shied away from all of them. Naruto was easily the strongest person that she knew, both physically and mentally. So for him to have experienced events overpowering enough to turn his strength into shambles? The thought was frightening, disheartening.
Eventually, with troubled thoughts and constant worries on her mind, Hinata fell asleep against him. She woke briefly in the dark of night when she felt him shifting, but fell asleep soon after when she felt his fingers over her cheek, brushing her hair behind her ear. It was a gesture she knew so well and had missed so much she didn’t even realize that tears had formed, even as she fell back into unconsciousness.
She didn’t feel Naruto sneak out, most likely to debrief as he should have immediately, and she didn’t feel him return, either. She must’ve been more exhausted than she’d initially thought. She woke at last in the early morning when she felt his hands running rhythmically through her hair, right above her ear. She blinked her eyes open and found him facing her, one leg wrapped over the curve of her hips, pulling her into him. His hand supported his head as he gazed down at her. He didn’t bother to hide the affection there, such open fondness for her that she felt herself flushing despite herself.
“Good morning,” she whispered, watching his lips rise into an ever-familiar lazy morning smile.
“Good morning,” he repeated, leaning down to kiss her forehead, her cheek, her jaw line. “Thank you, Hinata.”
She frowned, shaking her head. “No need,” she began in a whisper, not wanting to break the quiet they’d come awake into. Naruto continued to run his fingers through her hair, pausing once to trail his thumb over her lips. He shook his head, still smiling her favorite gentle smile.
“Thank you,” he said again, despite her rebuff. “I’ve missed you.”
He so easily said what she had thought upon seeing him. She glanced over his shoulder, saw the time glaring back at her in angry red numbers, and frowned.
“Naruto-kun,” she said, “It’s three in the morning. You should sleep.”
“I can’t sleep,” he said honestly, gazing at her. He didn’t attempt to hide from her, not with his body language or any emotional walls. He laid himself bare and let her see it all. She felt his fingers against her skin, again and again. “I was worried.”
Hinata inched closer to him, waking up entirely to give him her full attention.
“What has you worried?” She asked gently, reaching out to grasp his waist, her hand a familiar anchor he could take respite in. His eyes jumped between hers, wide and watchful.
“You’ll think it’s silly,” he said with a huff, a quiet laugh. “Especially considering how fucked up I was last night.”
“Naruto-kun,” Hinata scolded, shaking her head. “It’s okay. You can tell me.”
“I know,” he said, and the tone of his voice told her that this, too, was a wonder to him. That he could tell her anything and she would still be here, with him and for him, always. For someone who had grown up for several years as a young boy without parents, guidance, friends, or any source of affection—this was an undeniably overwhelming change. But Hinata persisted in reminding him of it, until he would never be surprised at her continued affection for him ever again.
Naruto sat up and Hinata followed suit, shifting around each other to fit on her narrow couch and still be touching.
“Yesterday—there was just a lot. I don’t think I can talk about it right now. But last night, and this morning, I was worried about other things.”
She watched him watch her, studying her reaction to the words he hadn’t even yet spoken. He coiled a tuft of her hair around his finger, let it fall away, and repeated the gesture.
“There’s been so much on my mind, these past two years. So much has happened. But I just—I could never stop thinking about if you’d moved on from me, ya know? I’d understand why. Two years is a long freakin’ time, and before yesterday you didn’t even know if I’d be gone even longer, right?”
“Right,” Hinata answered softly, and Naruto cringed, accepting her honesty and the way it validated something in his mind.
“Right,” he repeated, swallowing. “So I just got to thinking. What if she doesn’t want me anymore? What if I blew it? Like after you waited so long for me to get my shit together and realize you’re literally the best thing to ever happen to me, what if I screwed that up? What if someone cool and strong came along and treated you the way I should have been here to treat you all along and you fell for them and it’s so shitty, I know it’s shitty, but I’d hate it. I don’t know where you’re at or what you’re thinking or if you even still want me and yet this is what you do. You take me in, no questions asked, and you take care of me. Fuck, you take care of me in a way I probably don’t deserve. A way I’ve never known. Your heart is so special and I don’t think I deserve it, but damned if I don’t want it. Want you.”
Hinata could barely breathe around Naruto’s ramblings, the way his mind leapt from piece to jagged piece of what she now understood to be insecurities. He’d thought she’d move on without him? That she could ever, ever feel anything for someone else that would amount to anything more than a candle to the sunburst inferno of love she felt for him?
Uzumaki Naruto, who acted first and never questioned his own intuition and feelings, was afraid. Worried, he’d said. About her feelings for him.
It was the most ridiculous thing she had ever heard, but Naruto wasn’t finished.
“Even when I was out there in the thick of it, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. Wondering if you were safe, if you were still living in this apartment, sleeping in my shirt.” Hinata’s cheeks overturned, a slow rushing of heat. Naruto watched her unblinkingly, unafraid of expressing himself, so unlike her in his extroverted nature. “And you are, you’re safe, you’re here, you’re wearing my shirt. And Hinata, I have to ask. I need to know if you’re still mine. I need to know that this,” he gestured to the space between them, the space around them, her comfort and her home, “Isn’t just your kindness. I know you’d take in anyone who needed aid or comfort, I know it, but you let me kiss you. You brought me into your home and you held me. I need to know if that’s for me. If you’re still mine, the way I’m still yours.”
His tone was almost begging, and Hinata hated the uncharacteristic uncertainty in it. She reached out to him, let her hands rest on the strong lines of his jaw. She closed her eyes for only a moment, letting their foreheads touch, her eyelashes grazing over the apples of his cheeks.
“Naruto-kun,” she began, ever quiet, ever sincere. “You’re right. I would help anyone who needed it, and I’d try to take care of them to my utmost abilities.”
She watched him absorb those words like a blow, flinching even as he remained in her hold. She pulled back, still holding onto him, and waited for him to meet her eyes. She let the steel in her shine through, the certainty and the confidence.
“But this,” she said, leaning forward to press her lips against his, tender and chaste but with a depth of feeling, “Is yours. Has always been yours.”
Hinata felt herself blush as his gaze became more and more intense, the feeling behind it almost palpable between them. “You’re my special person,” she continued shakily, her embarrassment rearing its ugly head. “You always have been, ever since we were little. And you are still today, and you will be tomorrow. And you will be always.”
“I kept thinking I can’t lose you before I ever really got to have you,” he croaked, desperation tearing at his vocal chords. “I know that’s not fair to say, since I was the one making you wait. But I get it now. I’m shit for timing but I love you, and if I’m being honest I just couldn’t bear it if you were with someone else. I’d fight for you. I’d never stop trying until—unless you told me to.”
Selfish, she thought, not without fondness. She could’ve admonished him, playful and wry, but Naruto was a patchwork of shattered pieces, barely holding himself together. She didn’t need the Byakugan to see that much. So instead, she treated him gently, her scarred hands reaching out to the jagged broken pieces of him, hoping to heal. She couldn’t help but to wonder what had caused this—what had made him hurt so strongly in this way, enough to make him come to her even before attending his mission debriefing.
“Silly,” she whispered, voice gentle enough to comfort. She molded the words in the barest form of honesty she had in her: straight from her heart, with fragments of her soul. “It was you the whole time.”
Naruto looked up and watched her eyes, the shape of her lips. He studied the changes in her, the shifts, the slopes, seeking truth. He would find it in the hand she reached out to him, sliding through the hair above his ear; the way she leaned into him, lips against his forehead, her eyelashes ghosting over his skin; the way she hummed in his ear, soothing and comforting and promising all in one that it would be okay. Whatever was hurting him, they would face together. How he could ever, ever think that she could be anyone else but his was unthinkable.
Naruto sighed, a great gust of breath that wilted his shoulders with relief. His smile made a comeback just in time to steal her heart again, and he pulled her into his lap with ease. He nuzzled against her and hummed lightly, rocking them together as she rested her cheek on his chest, just under his chin.
“I love you,” he said easily, quietly, with a sincerity that nearly unraveled her. And it was a marvel that they had made it here, together, wrapped up in each other’s arms, so easily able to express the way they feel.
“I love you too,” she whispered, smiling, feeling lighter than she had in months, in years. Naruto held her close, and Hinata closed her eyes. Against his chest, she could hear the rhythmic thudding of his heart. His breath stirred her hair. Her heart settled into a comfortable pace.
They became one another’s shelter, and it was easy.
And it was enough.