Rain/Winter
𝕽𝐚𝐢𝐧/𝖂𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫
And for now, that was enough.
[1] 雨 | Rain
The rain was relentless.
Cold droplets struck his face and slid down his cheeks like phantom tears he refused to shed. Sasuke didn't flinch nor did he move to shield himself from the downpour.
He welcomed the numbness it brought, the way it drowned out the gnawing ache in his chest.
It was ironic, he thought bitterly, how the heavens seemed to weep when he could not.
.
.
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Rain That Cleanses the Soul
A man who had once been feared as a harbinger of destruction, now rendered motionless by the weight of his own guilt.
His clothes were soaked through, his hair plastered to his face, but he stood still, his gaze distant and unfocused. His lone arm hanging at his side.
The rain fell harder, and he tilted his head slightly upward as if daring the sky to send more. He paid no mind to the cold biting through the fabric or the mud staining his sandals. The weight of his crimes was heavier than the storm, pressing down on him in ways no weather ever could. He could feel it in his bones, in the marrow of his very being—an unrelenting, suffocating burden of guilt.
The rhythm of the rain was steady, almost hypnotic, and matched the hollow thrum in his chest. The world around him blurred. He had been pardoned. Forgiven. That word tasted bitter on his tongue, like a lie he couldn’t swallow. His brother, his clan, his comrades, his enemies—all blurred together in a sea of faces that haunted him, hollowing him out from within. The weight of the freedom given to him was a heavier burden than chains ever could be.
The sound of the rain filled the silence around him, a constant patter on the earth, the trees, the rocks. Yet, in his mind, it was deafeningly quiet. Too quiet. The quiet was where his thoughts thrived, circling him like vultures over a carcass.
He closed his eyes, exhaling a slow, shaky breath. This was his penance, wasn’t it? To wander, to be an outcast, to bear the weight of his sins until it crushed him completely. He had chosen this path, and he would walk it alone.
He’d set out on this journey to atone, but what did atonement even look like? The empty roads, the desolate forests, and the ruined villages he’d passed through offered no answers. The silence only amplified the noise in his head—the memories of his past, the faces of those who had suffered. More importantly, there was his family—the memories of Itachi, his parents, the weight of the Uchiha name he had spent years avenging, only to destroy what little honor they had left.
Thunder growled low in the distance, a rumble that seemed to mock his self-pity. The rain grew heavier, pelting him with icy needles, but he didn’t move. Let the storm drown him if it wished. He deserved it. He deserved worse.
The rain mixed with his sweat, dripping into his eyes, but he didn’t bother to wipe it away. His missing arm ached dully, a phantom sensation that mocked him. He welcomed it. The pain was a reminder of what he had lost, what he deserved to endure.
And then, suddenly, the rain stopped.
Not entirely—he could still hear it drumming against the ground, but it no longer struck his face or shoulders. Sasuke opened his eyes, his sharp instincts kicking in despite the emotional haze clouding his mind. Its pale violet canopy glistened with raindrops, each sliding off the edges with soft, rhythmic plinks. What shielded him was an umbrella, held aloft by a pale hand.
His gaze shifted, following the arm to its owner—a young woman. Her hair was dark and fell in soft waves, framing a face that was familiar yet unexpected. Her pale, almost ethereal eyes met his mismatched eyes, calm and steady despite the storm around them.
Hyuga Hinata.
“You’ll catch a cold if you stay in the rain too long,” she said softly, her voice nearly swallowed by the rain. Her tone devoid of pity or judgment.
The statement was so absurdly mundane that Sasuke almost laughed. Almost. Instead, he turned his gaze away, fixing it on the muddy ground. For a moment, he didn’t know how to respond. It caught him off guard. He’d expected curiosity, fear, or even disdain. But her words carried none of that.
“Why are you here?” he asked, his tone sharper than he’d intended. He didn’t want her pity. He didn’t want anyone’s pity.
Hinata hesitated, and in that pause, the rain seemed louder. “I’ve been traveling,” she said finally. “I…needed time away."
He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. She didn’t elaborate, and he didn’t press her. Whatever her reasons were, they were her own.
She didn’t flinch under his sharp gaze, nor did she withdraw the umbrella.
They stood in silence for a while, and the rain continued to fall around them. Sasuke didn’t know what to make of her at this moment. Sasuke felt the urge to tell her to leave, to walk away and forget she’d ever seen him like this. But the words wouldn’t come.
He felt exposed, and vulnerable in a way that had nothing to do with his missing arm or his soaked clothes. And yet, he didn’t move.
Maybe it was the warmth of the gesture, or maybe her presence didn’t feel like an intrusion. It was…quiet, calming, something serene.
Maybe, just this once, he thought, he could allow himself to accept someone else’s kindness... even if he didn’t deserve it.
The world is blur of grey and white, but beneath the umbrella, there was an odd sense of clarity.
---
[2] 冬 | Winter
The snow fell softly.
Delicate flakes kissed her cheeks and tangled in her dark hair, melting into droplets that clung to her skin. Hinata didn’t shiver, though the cold seeped through her cloak and numbed her fingers.
She walked without purpose, each step crunching faintly against the blanket of white beneath her feet. She watched the flakes swirl down from the heavens.
It’s peaceful, she thought, though the word felt foreign like it didn’t belong to her. Peace was what the world had fought for, what so many had died to achieve. And yet, here she was, adrift in it, unable to find her place.
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Winter’s Veil of Stillness
The war was over, but the battles within her had only just begun.
Hinata Hyūga sat by a dying campfire, her lavender eyes fixed on the flickering embers that struggled to hold their warmth against the encroaching cold.
She had been traveling for months now, wandering from village to village, with no clear destination in mind. It was supposed to help her, this journey. It was supposed to clear her mind, to give her purpose, or at least provide her with a reprieve from the thoughts that plagued her since the war ended.
But instead, it felt like she was running in circles, unable to escape the weight that pressed down on her chest.
Neji’s face haunted her. His death... as vivid now as it had been on that day. His sacrifice had saved her, and yet, she couldn't forgive herself. She blamed her own weakness, her inability to protect him.
The image of his lifeless body, the quiet strength of his final words, and the way he had smiled at her before he passed—it was all etched into her mind. Had she been stronger, faster... maybe he would still be alive. Maybe she wouldn’t feel this emptiness.
Traveling had seemed like a solution at first. She thought leaving Konoha might help her escape the suffocating weight of truth that Neji died for her and the ache of unspoken words left hanging in the air—Naruto’s silence to her confession. As Naruto never responded, and she… she had stopped hoping for one.
Hinata stared at her hands, pale and trembling. Her younger sister had up the mantle of heiress. Hinata had no problem with this. Instead, it brought her joy to see Hanabi flourish. But it still left her feeling adrift, like a ship without an anchor. What was she supposed to do now, in this time of peace? Where did she belong?
She missed Konoha. She missed her friends, her family, even the quiet moments spent in the Hyuga compound. But every time she thought about returning, a sense of dread filled her. It had been comforting, in a way, to hear their stories of rebuilding. But it had also made her feel even more lost. They all had a purpose, a direction, and she was still searching for hers.
She couldn’t bear to face it all. Not yet.
The fire hissed as the last embers surrendered to the cold. Hinata didn’t move to rekindle it. She welcomed the chill, letting it bite at her skin. It mirrored the hollowness inside her. The snow continued to fall, wrapping the world in a stillness that felt both suffocating and serene.
A crunch of footsteps broke through the quiet, intentionally breaking the silence. Hinata’s head snapped up, her byakugan activating instinctively. Her pulse quickened as her enhanced vision registered a familiar figure moving steadily toward her.
His dark hair and a cloak blending seamlessly with the muted landscape.
“Uchiha… Sasuke,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.
He stopped a few paces away, his expression as unreadable as always. His raven-black hair was longer than she remembered, and the air around him seemed to hum with the same quiet intensity he had always carried. He just hummed.
It had been a year since she last saw him, and even now, he was an enigma—a man who she recognized that carried his own ghosts, his own burdens under that rainy day. She hadn’t expected to cross paths with him again.
Sasuke moved closer and crouched by the dead fire, igniting it with a flick of his hand. The flames sprang to life, chasing away the cold. Hinata watched him, her thoughts a tangled mess. Why was he here?
“You’re far from home again,” he said finally, his tone neutral.
Hinata hesitated, then nodded. “Yes. I thought it might…help me figure things out. But I…” She hesitated, the words catching in her throat. “I’m not sure it’s working.”
He didn’t press her for answers, didn’t pry into the turmoil she knew must be written all over her face. Instead, he simply sat by the fire, his presence steady and unyielding, like the mountains that surrounded them.
For the first time in months, Hinata felt the tightness in her chest ease, just a little. The snow continued to fall, but the fire burned steadily, casting a warm glow over the two figures sitting in its light. They sat there, the snow falling between them, saying nothing.
In the stillness, something unspoken passed between them—an understanding, only quiet companionship in the cold.