Chapter 37
The first time Hinata met Naruto’s parents, blood still dripped from her fingers.
It was an accidental meeting—obviously, she thought with frustration, straightening even as she wiped her bloodied fingers against the tattered material of her pants. She knew she looked a mess, chagrined and mortified, battle-worn and panting. She cleared her throat as Naruto’s father blinked at her, mouth gaping. Uzumaki Kushina was shorter than Hinata had imagined, brushing by the Yondaime’s shoulder. She was beautiful, soft and strong. Hinata felt like she knew her, from all of Naruto’s praises. Kushina’s dazzling scarlet hair grazed the backs of her knees, and Hinata self-consciously tucked some of her own hair behind her ear.
“Hello,” she greeted breathlessly, ducking her head politely. The body behind her heel made a noise, low and groaning. She ignored it with a blink. Namikaze Minato’s eyes dropped to the noise, returned to the smear of drying blood on the hinge of Hinata’s jaw. She ignored that, too.
“Hello,” he returned slowly, the corner of his mouth quirking. Hinata caught the expression with a sudden burst of joy, saw so clearly the way that same gesture curled the corners of Naruto’s lips, too. With that same amusement held in his voice, he asked, “Is this a bad time?”
There was no hiding how sheepish she felt. She wasn’t exactly embarrassed—she had been returning home from a mission, doing her duty, when a rogue had come at her with kunai and jutsu, both. He’d mentioned her father, her family, her eyes. Something about revenge. One of the select few shinobi she’d been gathering intelligence on, and foolish enough to track her back to her roots. Her ribs still stung with the kiss of one of his blades, the blood seeping through her jacket the only bit that belonged to her.
But regardless of how appropriate her reaction was, she had never once entertained the thought that the first time she’d meet Naruto’s parents, she’d have a body at her feet. Blood on her hands. A potentially life-threatening wound. And for all these reasons, she felt sheepish.
“I sincerely apologize,” she offered quickly, holding her hands out. A mistake; the ruddy hue of them drew the eye, and she quickly yanked them back behind her tailbone, blushing. “You’ve caught me in an unfortunate moment.”
“I’d say,” Minato nodded, not unkindly. He glanced around for the first time, eyes scanning the trees. “Do you need help?”
Hinata shook her head, her senses already reaching, knowing they were alone. Just her, the body…and Naruto’s parents.
“No, thank you, he was definitely the only pursuer.”
“Ah,” Minato nodded, and Hinata watched the way he leaned ever so slightly towards Kushina, almost unconsciously. She thought suddenly of Naruto and his unashamed physicality, the ways he always seemed to need to be close to her, regardless of what they were doing. Or where they were. She thought of the time she’d laughed, pulling him in against her chest and asking, “Do you even realize how close you always get?”
“Eh?” He’d grunted, nuzzling against her neck, enjoying the warmth of their embrace. “I like being close to you. Is that weird?”
“Not weird,” she’d assured.
“It’s like—whenever I see you, I just have to touch you. Even when I have so much on my mind, my thoughts so freaking loud, I always find myself reaching for ya.”
She’d kissed him then, touched and shaken. She wondered if Minato’s movement towards his wife was willful, or as unconscious yet needed as Naruto’s own intimacy.
“I’ve heard so much about you,” she couldn’t help but gush, the words skimming through. It was a poor attempt at distraction, genuine as the words were. She couldn’t help but shrink slightly under Kushina’s unwavering gaze. If there was a test here, Hinata thought wryly, she’d probably already failed. Naruto was going to be heartbroken. “Naruto holds both of you in such high esteem. I’m very happy to meet you both at last, though the timing…”
“It’s understandable,” Minato placated warmly, totally understanding.
“Yes,” Kushina said, speaking up for the first time. Hinata’s eyes widened at the smile on her lips, sincere and kind as it was. Crinkles appeared at the sides of her eyes, and Hinata recognized this, too. Naruto had a similar ability—drawing all the light inwards, and holding it close. “We got here a little earlier than you may have noticed, actually.”
The words sent dread dripping down Hinata’s spine.
“We saw the end of your fight, here. You left yourself open quite a bit.” Kushina’s tone was equal parts questioning and disapproving, though not for the reasons Hinata had been expecting. She had thought the worst, of course; Kushina returning home to ask Naruto why he’d chosen someone as cruel and indifferent as she, who’d killed a man pursuing her for vengeance. Someone fairer would’ve incapacitated them, even if they were vicious and lethal. Someone fairer would’ve brought them in for justice, even if they nearly died doing so.
But Hinata had fought for her life against this deranged man, at the tragic expense of his own. She’d thought Minato and Kushina would cringe away from her, radiate disapproval. Instead, she felt the warmth of their concern, saw the way Minato searched her for wounds and found the blood on her jacket. She heard the disapproval in Kushina’s voice, and realized at once that it was not for the battle or the man, but for Hinata’s well-being.
She had in fact hesitated. This man had come for her without hesitation, every strike aimed at vital organs and soft flesh. He’d been good—good enough to keep her on her toes, to ensure she was wholly focused on him and him alone. Twice she’d seen openings in his defenses, and let them pass. Twice he’d moved past her own, and she’d paid the price for them. Kushina had seen it all.
Hinata hesitated, deciding to be sincere. “I…did not want to kill him.”
Minato’s eyes softened, even as he and Kushina both frowned.
“He was not hesitating,” Kushina said, a question that wasn’t a question.
“No,” Hinata whispered, and the breeze pulled her hair from behind her ear, skewing her view.
“That’s exactly the kind of recklessness we discourage time and again in Naruto,” Kushina explained, pursing her lips. “He always tells us the same excuse.”
“Every life matters,” Hinata says without hesitation, smiling slightly. “Even those we disagree with.”
“Yes,” Kushina says slowly, blinking. She sighed. “I don’t know if you got the sentiment from him, or if you’re made from the same stuff. Naruto has always just been like that. Kind from the very depths of his heart. Even to his enemies.”
“Yes,” Hinata breathed, and her chest felt tight. “It makes me worry for him, sometimes.”
“And I,” Kushina whispered, as Minato’s fingers slipped through her own. He dipped his chin, a silent assent, and Hinata watched how they leaned against one another in solidarity. A moment of concern for their beloved flashing over their features in a single, fine wave of gleaming emotion. “But he’s more…him, because of it. He’s more beautiful, and stronger, and truer, that way.”
“He is,” Hinata agreed. The sun flickered through the canopy above them, the shadowed shapes of leaves dancing over her in flickering shadows and sunlight.
Kushina pursed her lips again, and after a moment of study her eyes softened. She said, “I think I see that in you, too, Hinata.”
Surprised, Hinata blinked. She inhaled slightly, feeling her cheeks heat. Her lips parted in a startled oh.
Kushina’s eyes were kind. “Though it makes you all those things, too, it also means that Naruto is going to worry in the same way that you do for him.”
Minato spoke then, his voice surprisingly stern. “The wound on your ribs is proof enough that he has good reason to worry, too.”
Before Hinata could offer any excuses, Kushina said, “If you’re going to hesitate, you need to be strong enough to do so without opening yourself up to injury. Do you understand what I mean?”
And Hinata did, so clearly. Their concern was not only for her well-being, which was touching enough as it was; they were worried for Naruto’s attachment to her, too. If she was injured, Naruto’s intangible worry would turn to real, felt pain. She knew this as well as his parents did; she had seen the way he shattered whenever she returned in less than the condition she’d left him in. He felt so strongly, in all ways. Including pain.
It was clear that his parents were telling her to take better care of herself. Out of concern for her well-being, and their son’s. She felt herself smiling, shy and touched, and stepped closer to them. Away from the dormant threat at her heels.
“I understand,” she promised. “I will take more care.” Kushina’s smile stole from the sunrise, just as breathtaking as it rose over her features. Minato’s mirrored it until his eyes crinkled shut, and he rubbed at the nape of his neck. Hinata recognized that, too.
“Thank you,” Kushina said kindly, “For loving our son, and taking care, Hinata.”
And then, with added fondness, she added: “Our future daughter-in-law.”
Hinata’s cheeks flared red, her heart stuttering in her chest, and Minato’s laughter moved through her in heated waves. His smile was brilliant.
Naruto’s parents gazed down at her amid her recent battlefield, with dried blood on her fingertips and hope filling her heart, and smiled.
Naruto’s father reached out to her, gently squeezing her shoulder.
“It’s very, very nice to meet you, Hinata.”