Chapter Text
Hinata Hyuuga’s head pounded relentlessly, each pulse driving through her skull as if trying to hammer away the fog that clouded her mind. She lay there in the dim light, staring blankly at the unfamiliar ceiling above her. The space around her felt different, the air too still, the bed too wide. Slowly, she pieced together fragments of memory, like shards of a broken mirror cutting into her thoughts. She rarely drank, yet the bitter tang of sake still lingered on her tongue, a testament to last night’s recklessness.
Her body ached, not from exertion but from the crushing weight of emotions she had tried—and failed—to numb. Last night had been a celebration for Naruto Uzumaki. Naruto, the hero who had saved the world, who had fulfilled his dream of becoming a Hokage. Naruto, the man she had loved silently, steadfastly, for as long as she could remember. Yet, as she had watched him last night, all of that love had twisted into something unbearable.
She hadn’t needed to look twice to see where Naruto’s attention lay. It wasn’t on her, not even for a fleeting second. No, Naruto’s eyes were fixed on Sakura Haruno, his face lighting up every time she smiled, his gaze following her with the kind of quiet devotion Hinata knew all too well. It mirrored her own feelings for him, a cruel reflection that shattered her heart over and over again.
The hurt had been suffocating, a weight she couldn’t carry alone. She’d let Ino Yamanaka drag her away, let her cheerful persistence convince her to try sake for the first time. Hinata had hoped it would dull the ache or at least drown out the relentless voice in her head whispering that she wasn’t enough, that she would never be enough. Instead, the drink had left her here, her head pounding, her memory fractured, and her body acutely aware of a warmth beside her that felt far too real.
A soft groan broke through her thoughts, and Hinata froze. Her pulse quickened, every nerve in her body on edge. She wasn’t alone. Her breath hitched as dread curled around her chest. She didn’t want to turn, didn’t want to see who was lying beside her. Yet, curiosity clawed at her, insistent and unforgiving. With a slow, hesitant movement, she shifted her gaze.
Her breath caught. Beside her lay Sasuke Uchiha.
His face was turned slightly toward her, his features relaxed in sleep. Even now, his expression held a certain aloofness, as if the world and its troubles could never quite touch him. Hinata stared, her mind reeling. Of all people, why him? Her heart pounded, each beat a chaotic rhythm of confusion and panic. How had this happened?
“S-Sasuke…” she whispered, her voice barely audible, trembling with a mix of shock and disbelief.
At the sound of his name, Sasuke stirred. His dark eyes blinked open, unfocused for a moment before they settled on her. A flicker of confusion crossed his face, so brief that Hinata might have imagined it, before it vanished behind his usual mask of indifference.
“Hyuuga,” he muttered, his tone cool and detached. His gaze swept the room briefly, as if assessing the situation with practiced ease. “What… happened?”
Hinata swallowed hard, her throat dry as her mind scrambled for an answer. “I… I don’t know,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. She clutched the sheet tighter around her, as if it could shield her from the weight of his presence. “Last night was… difficult. I remember… talking to you, but everything else is… blurry.”
Sasuke’s expression didn’t change, though his eyes darkened slightly. He sat up slowly, the sheets pooling around his waist as he ran a hand through his messy hair. “We were both drunk,” he said flatly, his voice devoid of emotion. “That’s all there is to it.”
His words hit her like a cold wind, the finality in them stinging more than she wanted to admit. To him, this was nothing—a mistake, a fleeting lapse in judgment to be erased and forgotten. Hinata nodded slowly, even as a hollow ache settled in her chest.
“Yes,” she murmured, more to herself than to him. “We should… forget about it.”
Sasuke gave a curt nod, already moving to gather his clothes. He dressed with an efficiency that only deepened the awkwardness of the moment, each precise movement a reminder of how easily he could dismiss what had happened. Hinata turned away, giving him the semblance of privacy, though her thoughts churned relentlessly.
Flashes of the previous night flickered through her mind, fragmented and hazy. She remembered seeing Sasuke at the celebration, sitting in a corner, his presence as enigmatic and detached as ever. While others laughed and cheered, he had remained distant, a shadow among the light. Sakura’s gaze had drifted to him repeatedly, her longing written plainly on her face. Hinata had recognized that look, felt it resonate within her like an old wound reopening. She had seen the same look on her own face in the mirror countless times.
Somehow, their paths had crossed. She recalled the bitterness in her voice when she had spoken to Sasuke, the unspoken pain they had shared, two people tethered to those who would never love them the way they wanted. There had been a strange understanding between them, a fragile thread connecting their loneliness. But now, in the cold light of day, it seemed that connection had been nothing more than an illusion.
Sasuke stood, his back to her as he adjusted his cloak. “No one needs to know,” he said without looking at her. His tone was matter-of-fact, as if her agreement would erase the memory from existence.
Hinata nodded again, though her heart felt heavy. “Of course,” she said quietly. She watched as he left, the door closing softly behind him, leaving her alone in the stillness.
For a long time, she sat there, unmoving. The room felt colder without him, the emptiness pressing down on her like a physical weight. She tried to make sense of her feelings, but they were a tangled mess of regret, confusion, and a lingering ache she couldn’t quite name.
When she finally dressed and stepped outside, the sun was already high in the sky. The village buzzed with life, its streets filled with laughter and chatter. Hinata moved through the crowd like a ghost, her thoughts miles away. She wondered if Naruto had noticed her absence, if he had even thought to look for her. But deep down, she knew the answer. He wouldn’t have. His world revolved around Sakura, his heart set on a love that would never truly be his.
And Hinata, as always, would remain in the shadows, her own love unspoken and unseen. She clenched her fists, a resolve forming amidst the pain. She couldn’t keep living like this, trapped in a cycle of longing and heartbreak. She had to find a way forward, a way to let go of the past and carve out a future for herself, even if it meant walking away from the one she loved most.
As the day wore on, Hinata’s steps carried her to the training grounds, her body moving on instinct. She threw herself into her practice, each strike and movement a release for the storm inside her. She didn’t know what the future held, but for now, she would fight—to become stronger, to find her own path, to mend the pieces of her broken heart.
And perhaps, one day, she would look back on this moment not with regret, but with gratitude for the strength it had given her to move on.