Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Prologue
Sasuke’s POV

Flashback

The rain hadn’t stopped for three days.
Sasuke Uchiha sat at the top of the grand staircase, the hem of his sleeping robe brushing against the polished wood. Below, light flickered under the half-open doors of the royal chamber.

He should have gone back to bed. But his mother’s voice was sharper than usual, and his father rarely stayed awake past the evening prayers.

“You brought them here?” Mikoto’s tone cracked like thin ice.
“A woman and her child, into our household?”

There was the sound of movement — the rustle of silk, the faint ring of Fugaku’s sword belt being set aside.

“I did,” the king replied, calm but heavy. “Because I owe that man my life.”

Sasuke leaned forward, heart quickening. Outside, thunder rolled like the echo of something ancient.

“A soldier from the north,” Mikoto said bitterly. “One of them. You risked everything to bring the remnants of that rebellion into our home. What will the court think, Fugaku? What will our son think?”
Fugaku’s sigh was soft but firm — the sigh of a man who had already lost too much to care for gossip.
“He died on the battlefield,” he said, “not as an enemy, but as a man. He saw the arrow before I did. I would not be breathing if not for him.”

The silence that followed was thick. Sasuke could hear the rain sliding off the tiled roof outside, each drop like a heartbeat.
“So this is pity,” Mikoto whispered. “That’s what this is.”
“It’s debt,” Fugaku corrected. “And duty. His wife and child have nothing left. I will not let a loyal man’s family starve in the mud while I sit on a throne he bled to defend.”
Mikoto’s reply came cold and measured.
“And when the servants whisper? When our son grows up among… them? What will you tell him?”

Fugaku’s answer was almost too quiet for Sasuke to hear — but the words lingered, etched deep into memory.

“I will tell him to listen before he judges. That is the mark of a true ruler.”
Sasuke pressed his back to the wall, the warmth of the lantern light spilling onto his feet.
He didn’t yet understand who “they” were, or why his mother’s voice trembled with something that wasn’t quite fear — but that night, he learned that mercy could sound like defiance.

End of flashback

Chapter Text

The clang of the clashing swords filled the courtyard.


Sasuke’s breath came out sharp, his movements clean and focused. The morning sun turned his wooden blade to gold each time it cut the air. Nearby, Naruto called out a correction, firm but patient. His tone carrying the calm authority of someone twice his age.

“Lower your shoulder, Sasuke. You’re fighting your own weight again.”

Sasuke exhaled and tried again. The wood struck wood, clean and fast this time. Fugaku, watching from a shaded veranda, allowed himself the faintest nod of approval.

But the King wasn’t here only for training that day.
Beyond the training grounds, two figures stood near the plum trees, a woman in pale blue robes, and a little girl clinging to her sleeve. Their faces were new to the palace. The woman’s composure was quiet, almost fragile, but her eyes held the dignity of someone who refused to bow to pity.
The child beside her, small, dark-haired, and pale-eyed, was watching the swords move like a dance she couldn’t look away from.

Fugaku motioned for the training to stop.
Naruto wiped his brow, stepping back as Sasuke lowered his blade and turned toward his father.

“Sasuke,” Fugaku said, his voice carrying the authority of a king but the softness of a father, “come here.”

Sasuke obeyed, curious. The king placed a hand on his shoulder and gestured toward the woman and child.
“This is Lady Hana of the northern lands,” he said.
“And her daughter, Hinata. Her husband was from the on the rival side in the war, yet he saved me. He gave his life for me. You will treat them with respect and kindness.”

Sasuke glanced at the girl. She met his eyes only for a heartbeat, then looked down.
Her eyes were… different — pale, luminous, like moonlight caught in still water. Not frightening, but strange, and somehow, sad.

Fugaku’s gaze softened.

“I’m entrusting you, my son,” he said quietly. “You have a good heart. Make sure they feel safe here.”

Sasuke nodded once, the weight of his father’s words sinking in more deeply than he understood.

Behind them, Hana knelt beside her daughter. Her voice was soft but steady.

“Go on, Hinata,” she whispered. “Say hello.”
Hinata hesitated, clutching the hem of her mother’s sleeve, then, gathering a little courage, she stepped forward and bowed.

“H-hello, Prince Sasuke,” she said, voice thin but sincere.
“And you too, big brother Naruto.”

Naruto blinked, surprised, then grinned.

“Big brother, huh? I like that,” he said with a laugh, ruffling her hair gently. “Don’t worry, we don’t bite.”

Sasuke looked down at her again.
Something about her voice; small, trembling, but brave, stayed with him. He couldn’t name it, but he felt it settle quietly somewhere behind his ribs.

“Hello, Hinata,” he said simply. “You can watch if you want. The training’s not too dangerous.”

For the first time, she smiled. A tiny one, but real.
And from that day on, she did watch.
From the edge of the courtyard, behind the garden walls, beside her mother’s quiet sewing. Always nearby, a shadow in white, a whisper of calm among the clatter of swords.

Neither of them knew it yet, but that first shy greeting, beneath the plum blossoms and morning light, was the moment their fates quietly intertwined.

---

Six months had passed since the day Hinata and her mother first stepped through the palace gates.

Time, as it often did, softened the edges of grief and wove new patterns in its place. What had begun as quiet curiosity between the three children — Sasuke, Naruto, and Hinata — had grown into something unbreakable.

Hinata’s shyness slowly faded, replaced by laughter and confidence. Her father’s absence still lingered, but it no longer weighed on her as before. The palace had become her home — not by title, but by heart.

Her mother, Hana, remained close, her calm strength a quiet anchor. The King himself would often spend time with the children during the afternoons, telling tales of his youth and the distant wars he once fought. Hinata would listen wide-eyed, while Sasuke tried — and failed — to hide how much he loved hearing his father’s stories.

Then there was Nana, the palace cook, who had claimed them all as her own. Her laughter filled the halls as easily as the smell of baked rice cakes. To the children, she was a grandmother — wise, loud, and endlessly kind.

Naruto, four years older than Sasuke and already training as a knight-in-service, became the steady hand between them. He teased, guided, and protected them in equal measure — a brother not by blood, but by soul.

And Sasuke…

For Hinata, he was something different. Something she didn’t have words for yet.

He was her fortress when she was scared. Her armor when she doubted herself. Her pattern of safety in a world that had once felt too big and cold.

For Sasuke, she was the calm in his storms. When he grew restless and disobedient, charging into lessons or sparring too fiercely, she was the quiet presence that steadied him. He liked how she listened. How she didn’t treat him as a prince, but simply as Sasuke.

Perhaps the greatest surprise of all was how his father, King Fugaku, secretly encouraged their bond. When others whispered of the Hyuga girl’s strange eyes, the King quietly ensured she attended some of Sasuke’s private lessons. Hinata learned to read and write with him, her curiosity shining brighter than any doubt.

Under the guidance of the royal herbalist, Shiro, Hinata discovered a gift for healing — an inheritance from her late father. She learned to identify herbs, to mix poultices and salves from the plants that grew beyond the castle walls. Shiro grew fond of her gentle diligence, often praising her quick mind.

Sasuke, meanwhile, had noticed something else — how the girl’s gaze lingered whenever he trained. His swordsmanship was precise, disciplined, and she admired it in quiet awe. One evening, after catching her watching from the courtyard steps, he smirked and offered her a wooden practice sword.

“If you’re going to stare, you might as well learn,” he had said.

From that day forward, they trained together in secret — hidden in the quiet corners of the palace gardens or beneath the watchful shade of the sakura trees. It was innocent enough, but to them, it felt like a small rebellion — their own secret world of clashing wood and laughter. Hinata learned quickly, mirroring his movements until her stance was near perfect. Sasuke never said it aloud, but he admired her resolve more than any noble’s praise.

Their closeness, however, did not go unnoticed.

Queen Mikoto remained distant, her composure as sharp as glass. One afternoon, she called Sasuke to her private chamber. Her tone was measured — not cruel, but cold.

“Remember who you are,” she told him softly, though her words struck deep. “And remember what she is. The Hyuga were not made to walk beside royalty. She serves you, my son. Do not forget that.”

He nodded, but his silence was the first secret he ever kept from his mother. Because he knew, even then, that he could never see Hinata as just a servant.

---

Over the months, Hinata learned the quiet details of his life — how he loved tomatoes and hated sweets, how he preferred silence to chatter, and how he’d always flick her forehead lightly when she worried too much.

“Stop thinking so much,” he’d tease. “You’ll end up turning grey before Nana does.”

And she’d laugh, touching the spot he flicked with mock indignation, though secretly she cherished every small gesture — every soft moment that made him Sasuke, not the prince

With Hinata in his life, Sasuke discovered a kind of love he didn’t yet understand — the kind that made long winters shorter and the summer sun gentler.

Naruto saw it, of course. He always did — the way Sasuke’s eyes softened when Hinata laughed, or the way she waited for him before meals. But he said nothing. Love like that, he thought, should bloom on its own.

Yet in the quiet corners of the castle, not all hearts had softened.

Queen Mikoto’s politeness remained as brittle as porcelain. And Orochimaru, her royal advisor, whispered venom with the elegance of a serpent. His disdain was sharper, his suspicion deeper — though he dared not act openly, not while the King’s favor shielded the Hyuga girl and her mother.

For now, they watched in silence.

And while the laughter of youth echoed through the palace halls, darker hearts quietly waited for a reason to silence it.

Chapter Text

Two and a half years later

The forest smelled of spring—wet earth, plum petals, and sunlight filtering through the leaves.

Before they had wandered into the fields that day, Hinata had been sparring with Sasuke in one of the secluded courtyards behind the eastern wing of the palace. It was their favorite place to train — hidden, quiet, surrounded by flowering trees. The rhythmic sound of wooden blades clashing echoed softly beneath the morning light.

“Keep your stance firm,” Sasuke said, circling her. “You’re too light on your right foot. If I pushed now—”

He feinted, and Hinata stumbled back with a gasp, barely parrying his strike.

“—you’d fall.”

“Y-you didn’t have to actually push,” she protested breathlessly, strands of dark hair sticking to her forehead.

He smirked. “Then you’d never learn.”

Hinata straightened her back, determination flashing across her soft features. “Again,” she said, gripping the hilt tighter.

Sasuke nodded approvingly. When they began again, her movements flowed smoother, less hesitant. He recognized the effort in her form — each strike was more balanced, each step closer to his own rhythm.

And when he showed her his signature move — a fluid, turning strike he’d learned from his father’s personal guard — she mirrored it nearly perfectly. For a heartbeat, he simply watched her, caught off guard by how graceful she’d become.

“You almost had it,” he said, a rare note of admiration in his tone.

“Almost?” she asked, smiling faintly.

“Almost,” he repeated. But the pride in his eyes said otherwise.

Naruto had been watching from the steps, his arms crossed and a crooked grin on his face.
“Honestly,” he said, “you two look like you’re auditioning for some secret warrior play. Should I get Nana to watch? She’d love the drama.”

Sasuke glared at him. “Go polish your armor, knight-in-training.”

Hinata laughed, lowering her sword. “I think he’s right, though. We’re being dramatic.”

“Speak for yourself,” Sasuke muttered, but the faintest of smiles curved at the corner of his mouth.

They put away their practice blades and headed toward the outer forest — the quiet place beyond the palace walls where rules felt less heavy and titles didn’t matter.

---

Now, the air was full of sunlight and the soft hum of spring. Naruto lay stretched out on the grass, a book open on his chest, eyes half-lidded with contentment. A few paces away, Hinata knelt among wildflowers, her small hands busy arranging a bundle of colors. Sasuke sat beneath a low cedar, watching her—or pretending not to.

“This one’s called *Tsukishiro.* The petals open only at night. People say they hold the moon’s tears,” said Hinata, picking up a small white flower.

“Hn.” Sasuke nodded absently.

“You’re not listening again,” Hinata said, tilting her head.

“I am,” he replied simply, glancing at her.

“Then tell me what I said,” she demanded.

“Something about… moon tears,” he declared with a faint smirk.

Hinata pouted and leaned closer to him. “You’re impossible.”

“And you talk too much,” Sasuke said, flicking her forehead.

“Sasuke! That’s mean!” she gasped softly, rubbing the spot.

“You’re fine,” he chuckled quietly.

“Don’t make her cry, Prince Brood,” Naruto called from the grass without looking up.

“Mind your own book, Naruto,” Sasuke replied, rolling his eyes.

“My book doesn’t flick people’s foreheads.”

Hinata giggled at their brotherly banter as the sunset caught her pale eyes. For a while, there was only the sound of wind and distant birds.

“You know… the castle looks so small from here,” Hinata murmured.

“Good. Maybe they’ll forget to drag us back,” Sasuke teased.

“What about your lesson with Kakashi-san?” she asked.

“He can survive one afternoon without me,” he said simply.

Without any particular reason, Sasuke plucked a small yellow flower from the grass and studied it for a moment.

“Hold still,” he said to her.

“Hm?” Hinata looked up.

In a move that felt almost natural, he leaned forward and tucked the flower behind her ear.
She froze, cheeks blooming red.

“W-why’d you…” she stuttered.

“It looked better there,” he said, smirking.

“You two are hopeless,” Naruto muttered with a chuckle.

Hinata quickly hid her face behind her hands. Sasuke leaned back, clearly pleased with himself. But the laughter faded as Hinata’s smile wavered, her thoughts drifting elsewhere.

“What’s wrong?” Sasuke asked.

“Hm? Nothing,” she said quickly, hoping he’d let it go.

“You’re frowning. That’s not ‘nothing,’” he said in that quiet but firm tone of his.

“I just… heard some of the maids talking. About the princess from the Eastern Empire coming for your eleventh birthday,” she finally admitted. Sasuke knew her too well; he wouldn’t have let it rest until she spoke.

“Princess Ino?” he asked.

“Yes. Everyone says she’s very beautiful, that she’s from an important royal family. Even your mother seems to like her,” Hinata said softly.

“That’s because she’s royalty. People like crowns, not hearts,” Sasuke replied dismissively. He genuinely didn’t like the Yamanaka princess — she was shallow and noisy. He only put up with her for his mother’s sake.

“Still… she’s really close to you, isn’t she?”

Sasuke drew a small breath and looked straight at her. “You worry too much. You’re the only girl I like spending time with. Except our moms and Nana,” he said simply.

Her eyes widened, her lips trembling into a shy smile. Naruto pretended to read, hiding a knowing grin.

“You mean that?” Hinata asked softly. She knew Sasuke was sincere, but for reasons she couldn’t explain, she needed to hear it.

“Of course,” he said. He wasn’t particularly fond of girls — not out of hatred, since some of his favorite people were women — but because he found most girls noisy and awkward, much like Ino. Hinata, however, was an exception. *His* exception.

After a brief pause, Hinata leaned a little closer. It wasn’t her intention to exclude Naruto; the gesture came naturally, instinctively.

Their foreheads were nearly touching now. Sasuke didn’t pull away — he didn’t mind. He didn’t quite understand it, but her presence made sense to him.

“Remember how you promised we’d be together, no matter what?”

Sasuke looked at her for a long moment, then smirked faintly, that quiet, sure smirk of his.

“Yes, I remember,” he said at last.

“Always and forever?” she whispered, their noses brushing.

“Always and forever,” he smiled.

The words hung in the air like sunlight—warm and steady. Too simple for them to understand yet, but strong enough to last a lifetime.

---

That evening, when they returned to the palace, Hana was waiting for them near the west corridor. Her gentle eyes softened as she saw the three children approach — hair tousled, cheeks pink with laughter.

“You’ve been training again, haven’t you?” she asked, arching a brow at the faint dirt smudges on Hinata’s sleeves.

“Maybe,” Sasuke replied, a little too quickly.

Hana smiled knowingly. “You take after your father more each day,” she said to Hinata, brushing a strand of hair from her face. Then, to Sasuke: “And you — try not to forget she’s smaller than you. Don’t push her so hard.”

Sasuke bowed his head slightly. “Yes, Lady Hana.”

When they parted ways for the night, Hinata lingered for a moment at the corner of the hall, watching him disappear around the turn. She touched her forehead where he had flicked her earlier and smiled.

“Always and forever,” she whispered to herself.

Chapter Text

The palace was alive with music.

Laughter and chatter echoed from the grand hall, where nobles in silk and gold mingled under chandeliers of glowing crystal. Outside, the air carried the scent of roasted chestnuts, lilies, and rain-soaked stone.

Naruto stood near the entrance, already tired of bowing guests and fake smiles. He tugged at the collar of his formal robe and sighed.

“Why do royal people always talk like their mouths are full of honey?” he muttered.

“Because it hides the poison,” Sasuke replied flatly, adjusting the clasp of his navy kimono. He looked sharp, dark hair tied neatly, the Uchiha crest shining on his back, but the stiffness in his shoulders betrayed how much he hated being on display.

Naruto smirked. “That’s almost poetic.”

“I wasn’t trying to be,” Sasuke said.

His eyes drifted toward the far side of the hall, where Hinata stood beside her mother. Their dresses were simple but elegant, pale lavender silk lined with silver thread, a gift from the king himself. Hinata looked uneasy, like she wasn’t sure whether she belonged here or not.

Sasuke excused himself from a cluster of nobles and made his way toward her, weaving between servants and courtiers. Before he could reach her, however, a bright voice sliced through the crowd.

“Prince Sasuke!”

He turned just in time to see Princess Ino Yamanaka gliding toward him, golden hair arranged in an elaborate braid, her gown shimmering in hues of sky blue and ivory.
She curtsied deeply. “Happy birthday, my prince,” she said sweetly, though her eyes flicked immediately to Hinata, narrowing ever so slightly.

Sasuke gave a polite nod. “Thank you, Princess.”

Ino smiled wider, taking it as invitation. “It’s been far too long since I visited. Your mother was kind enough to say she missed my company.”

“I’m sure she did,” Sasuke said, his tone unreadable.

Naruto, who had wandered closer, coughed quietly to hide a grin.
Hinata, trying to stay unnoticed, shifted her weight from foot to foot, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her sleeve.
Ino noticed.
“Lady Hinata,” she said smoothly, voice dripping like honey over glass. “How lovely to see you again. I do hope your... accommodations in the palace have been comfortable?”

Hinata forced a polite smile. “They have, Your Highness. Thank you.”

“How wonderful,” Ino continued. “I was just telling the queen how gracious it is of His Majesty to host you and your mother. Not many would show such… generosity.”

Before Hinata could respond, Sasuke’s voice cut through the air.

“That’s enough.”

Ino blinked, startled. “Pardon?”

“You’ve already said your greetings. Let’s not make this a spectacle,” Sasuke said calmly, but the edge in his tone was unmistakable.

For a heartbeat, no one spoke. Ino’s face twitched, her practiced smile faltering, but she quickly recovered.

“Of course, my prince,” she said, bowing slightly. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

As she turned away, Naruto leaned toward Sasuke and whispered, “Well, that’s one way to keep the peace.”

Sasuke didn’t answer. He simply turned to Hinata.
“You okay?” he asked quietly.

Hinata nodded, but her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’m fine.”

He frowned slightly. “She shouldn’t have said that.”

“It’s alright,” Hinata said quickly. “She’s a princess. People like her are supposed to say things like that.”

Sasuke’s jaw tightened. “That doesn’t make it right.”

Naruto sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

“You’ll get wrinkles if you keep glaring like that, prince.”

Sasuke ignored him. “Come on,” he said, taking Hinata gently by the wrist. “There’s something I want to show you.”

They slipped out through one of the side corridors, away from the music and the noise. The moon was rising outside, bathing the palace garden in silver light. Sasuke stopped near the edge of the lily pond, the same place they’d played as children.

“Much better,” he murmured.

Hinata exhaled, her shoulders relaxing.

“You’re missing your own party.”

“I’ve been at enough parties to last a lifetime.”

“You’re eleven,” she said, laughing softly.

“Exactly.”

They sat beneath a blooming cherry tree, the petals falling like snow. For a while, neither spoke. The sounds of the festival drifted faintly from afar, muffled laughter, a distant song.

“Do you think the princess is angry?” Hinata asked finally.

Sasuke gave a short shrug. “Probably.”

“She likes you, you know.”

“I know.”

Hinata frowned. “You don’t sound very happy about that.”

“I’m not.”

“Why?”

Sasuke turned to her, his expression softer now. “Because I already told you. You’re the only girl I like spending time with.”

Hinata’s heart skipped. “You mean that?”

He smiled faintly — that same quiet, sure smile she knew too well.

The moon reflected in the pond, and for a moment, the sound of laughter and music seemed very far away.

Hinata hesitated, the small velvet pouch clutched in her hands. The pond reflected the sunset, gold and pink rippling across the water, and she could feel Sasuke’s quiet gaze on her.

“I… I made something,” she began, voice barely above a whisper.

“For you.”

Sasuke raised an eyebrow, curious. “Hm?”

Her fingers trembled slightly as she opened the pouch, revealing a delicate silver necklace. At its center rested a single crimson bead, polished smooth.

“It’s… it’s made to match this.” She held out her wrist, showing the silver bracelet with a similar bead she wore. “I… I wanted us to… to always have something of each other.”

Sasuke studied it silently, noting the simplicity and elegance, and the thought behind it. He could see it was more than a trinket, it was her.

“Hinata… it’s… nice,” he said, but his tone was unreadable.

“I… I wasn’t sure I could give it to you,” she admitted, looking down. “You’re a prince… you have everything. But… this is special to me. I want you to have it, no matter what happens. Even if we… we stop seeing each other, or if… life takes us apart.”

Sasuke’s eyes softened, and he reached out to take the necklace. “You’re being dramatic,” he said, though a small smirk tugged at his lips. “We’d never be apart, Hinata. Never.”

“Promise me,” she said firmly, meeting his gaze.

“I promise,” he said, sliding the necklace over his head.

Sasuke traced a fingertip over the crimson bead resting against his chest, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“You really went through all this trouble?” he asked quietly, as if afraid to shatter the fragile perfection of the moment.

“I… I wanted to,” Hinata admitted, her voice soft, almost lost in the gentle rustle of leaves.

“It’s… important to me. I wanted you to have something that comes from me, even if you already have everything else.”

Sasuke’s gaze softened. He didn’t usually care much for gifts, but he could see the thought and care woven into this one.

“Hmph,” he said, pretending to shrug, though he didn’t look away. “You’re persistent, I’ll give you that.”

Hinata giggled, hiding behind her hands again for just a moment. “I… I hope you’ll always keep it,” she murmured, peeking out.

“I will,” Sasuke said simply, then smirked.

“Though I can hide it under my shirt, so no one will see it anyway.”

Her cheeks warmed, but she smiled.

“That’s… fine. I just… wanted you to know it’s from me.”

For a while, they sat in silence, the pond’s surface shimmering gold and pink under the fading sun. Sasuke’s fingers lightly brushed the necklace through the fabric of his shirt, a subtle reminder of the promise they had shared.

Naruto’s voice broke the quiet with a lazy, teasing drawl. “Oi, what’s with all the secret squirrel stuff? You two acting all… royal and mysterious over there?”

Sasuke rolled his eyes, but couldn’t hide the small chuckle that escaped him. “Mind your own business, Naruto,” he said, though his tone was gentler than usual.

“I can see that necklace!” Naruto teased, pointing. “Ooh, is that… Hinata’s handiwork?”

“She made it for me,” Sasuke replied, glancing at Hinata, who had tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“It’s nothing.”

“Nothing?” Naruto’s voice rose in mock outrage. “That’s a big ‘nothing.’ You better appreciate it, Prince Brood!”

Hinata laughed softly, covering her face, a blush still lingering. Sasuke’s lips twitched in amusement, and he reached over to lightly flick her forehead again. “You’re too loud,” he said quietly, though the gesture was playful.

“Too loud? You’re the one hiding a shiny thing under your shirt!” she replied, peeking at him through her fingers.

“Exactly,” he said, smirking, “so it’s mine to keep.”

Hinata’s gaze softened. She watched him tuck the necklace carefully beneath his shirt, imagining the promise it held and how it would stay with him, even if they were separated for reasons beyond their control.

Her fingers brushed the bracelet on her own wrist as if drawing strength from it.

“You promise,” she said quietly, breaking the gentle pause. “No matter what… you’ll never take it off.”

Sasuke met her eyes, and for the first time in a while, the serious weight of his promise lingered in the air.

“I promise,” he said, sliding the necklace back into place under his shirt.

Hinata’s lips curved into a shy smile, her heart fluttering. Even if the world pulled them apart, even if duty or circumstance demanded it, they would always carry a piece of each other.

For a few more moments, they remained by the pond, watching the sunlight fade, letting the quiet of the evening settle around them. The laughter had gone, replaced by something steadier, a bond that would endure, made tangible in silver and crimson, worn close to the heart.

Hinata fastened the bracelet on her wrist, and for a moment, they simply sat by the pond in silence. Two pieces of the same promise, one worn openly, one hidden, both bound by something that would last… always and forever.

Chapter Text

Three years had passed since the crown prince’s eleventh birthday , and the palace felt smaller now, more constricting. Sasuke, now fourteen, paced the courtyard with a purposeful energy.

“I want to go hunting,” he declared, voice steady. “A week south of the palace. The forests there are richer, better for training and gathering supplies for the staff.”

Hinata froze mid-step, hands tightening around the folds of her dress. “A week?” she asked, her voice quieter than she intended.

“Yes,” Sasuke said, eyes bright. “I asked the king this morning. Permission granted.”

Naruto, sprawled lazily on the grass with a book, bounced up. “Finally! You will be joining us!” His grin was uncontainable.

Hinata’s stomach twisted. Excited as Naruto was, she felt the sharp edge of worry.

Hunting wasn’t a game, people could get hurt. Lives were at stake. Sasuke, however, seemed oblivious, as if it were all a simple adventure.

“You don’t understand,” she said softly, stepping closer. “There are real dangers. People… people lose their lives doing these things. And you… you act as if it’s just another task.”

Sasuke’s expression flickered, a mixture of curiosity and mild frustration. “I’m aware of the risks,” he said, though his tone lacked the weight she expected. “I’ll take care. You worry too much, Hinata.”

Her hands fidgeted. She wanted him to see, really see, how she felt. “I… I don’t just worry. Sometimes I feel… overlooked, unheard. Everyone expects so much from me, from all of us in this house. And you… you don’t seem to notice.”

Sasuke blinked, momentarily at a loss. Hinata’s voice softened, but the intensity remained.

Naruto, ever the instigator, nudged Sasuke with a grin. “You know, older people sometimes get it. Maybe show her what she means to you… take her somewhere special. You know, a place that’s all yours.”

Sasuke’s gaze narrowed slightly, thoughtful. Then, after a long pause, he turned toward the castle gardens. “Follow me,” he said, with a faint smirk that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

They moved through the quiet corridors of the palace, stepping lightly over the well-trodden paths behind the main gardens. After a few minutes, Sasuke stopped before a dense wall of hedges, almost entirely hidden from the usual paths. A narrow opening, overlooked by even the most diligent servants, led them into a small, secluded grove.

Sunlight filtered through the branches of the trees, casting soft patterns on the ground. A small pond reflected the fading afternoon light. A few fruit trees leaned lazily over the water, and wildflowers carpeted the earth. The grove was untouched, a secret carved out of the palace grounds.

Hinata’s breath caught. “You… you found this?” she whispered.

Sasuke shrugged, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “It’s private. No one comes here. Just us.”

For a long moment, neither spoke. Hinata’s eyes wandered over the serene pond, the sunlight glinting off her silver bracelet. Sasuke watched her, noticing the small rise and fall of her chest, the way her fingers brushed against the leaves.

“I… I feel safer here,” she admitted, her voice barely above the breeze. “Safer to… to say what I feel, without worrying.”

Sasuke stepped closer, lowering himself to sit cross-legged by the pond. “Then say it,” he said quietly.

Hinata hesitated, then poured out her heart. She spoke of the loneliness she often felt regarding her father’s absence , the expectations she could never meet because of where she came from and how she felt she had to try harder than anyone else to prove her worth. She told him how much she appreciated small gestures, moments of understanding—like the necklace he now always wore beneath his shirt.

Sasuke listened in silence at first, the edges of his smirk softening. He reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. “I… didn’t know you felt that way,” he said quietly, his usual confidence giving way to something more genuine. “I’ll… try to understand better.”

Hinata’s fingers brushed the silver bracelet on her wrist. “I want… us to have a place like this,” she said. “A place where we can share things, and know that… even if everything else changes, we’ll always have it.”

Sasuke reached into his shirt and touched the necklace, a quiet acknowledgment of the promise they had made a few years ago. “We will,” he said, his voice firm but soft. “No matter what. You and me… this place… it’s ours.”

Hinata smiled, leaning slightly closer as their foreheads touched and their noses slightly brushed against each other’s. The grove was filled with the soft rustle of leaves and the distant chirping of birds. They shared a quiet moment, hands brushing, hearts tethered not just by words, but by the tangible reminders of their promises—silver and crimson, hidden yet always present.

For the first time in a long while, the palace, its rules, and the weight of expectation felt far away. Here, in their secret garden, the world was theirs, and nothing else mattered.

---

The afternoon waned as they lingered in the grove, hands brushing occasionally, hearts tethered by the quiet intimacy of the place. Sasuke finally stood, brushing a few leaves from his tunic.

“I should get ready,” he said. “Tomorrow we leave for the hunt. I’ll be gone most of the week.”

Hinata’s stomach tightened. “You’ll be careful, won’t you?” she asked softly, unable to hide the edge of worry in her voice.

Sasuke crouched slightly, meeting her eyes. “I will,” he promised. “I’ve trained for this. You don’t need to worry.”

She bit her lip, fidgeting with the bracelet around her wrist. “It’s not just the training… it’s the people. Lives are at stake, Sasuke. And sometimes… I feel like you don’t see that side of it.”

He hesitated, then reached out, taking her hand gently. “I do now,” he said quietly, the smirk fading into something softer. “I… understand more than I let on. I’ll remember this, Hinata. Not just the danger, but how you feel.”

Her heart fluttered, a mix of relief and warmth spreading through her chest. “Promise me,” she whispered. “Promise me you’ll come back safe. Promise me we’ll have more moments like this, no matter what.”

Sasuke’s fingers brushed the silver bracelet again. “I promise,” he said firmly. “We’ll always have this… our place, our bond. Nothing can change that.”

The sun dipped lower, casting long shadows across the grove. They lingered a little longer, savoring the quiet, the pond reflecting the golden light, the air scented with wildflowers. Eventually, Sasuke gathered his hunting gear, slinging a small satchel over his shoulder.

“Come on,” he said with a teasing smirk. “If you worry too much, you’ll give yourself away as the princess of panicked thoughts.”

Hinata laughed softly, but the sound was undercut by the lingering fear she couldn’t quite shake. “Just… don’t make me wait too long to come back,” she replied, her hand brushing briefly against his.

The next morning, Sasuke led Naruto and a small hunting party south of the palace, leaving Hinata behind. The forest was alive with the sounds of chirping birds and rustling leaves, the air crisp with the scent of pine. Sasuke moved confidently, scanning the undergrowth, teaching Naruto how to track footprints and watch for signs of deer or boar.

Hinata, watching from the castle gardens through a discreet vantage point, couldn’t help but feel torn. She was proud of him, of how capable he had become, but the danger gnawed at her chest. Yet she knew something had shifted, the secret garden, their promises, the brush of hands, the silent understanding. She felt… tethered to him, no matter the distance.

At the end of the first day, the hunting party settled near a clearing. Sasuke, despite his pride, found himself thinking of Hinata’s words. He crouched beside the small fire, fingers tracing the crimson bead beneath his shirt, feeling her presence even in the absence.

That night, as the campfire crackled and shadows danced across the trees, Sasuke whispered quietly into the night, almost to himself, “We’ll always have our place, Hinata. Always.”

And though she was miles away, she felt the echo of it, the tether of silver and crimson, carrying their promise across time and distance.

Chapter Text

Orochimaru lingered near the quiet corridors of the palace, his sharp eyes catching glimpses of moments most others would never notice. From behind a marble pillar or through a barely cracked door, he had seen the young prince and Hinata, the king’s household servant, spending time together alone. Of course, he had no proof of impropriety, but duty compelled him to act.

He bowed carefully before Queen Mikoto in her private chambers. “Your Majesty,” he began, measured and serious, “I hope I do not intrude, but there is a matter regarding the Crown Prince and one of the household staff, Hinata Hyuga.”

Mikoto arched an eyebrow. “Go on, Orochimaru.”

“The two have been observed spending time together unsupervised,” he said cautiously. “While I am confident in both their loyalty, their closeness may give the appearance of familiarity that is… unseemly given her position. The court may interpret it poorly.”

Mikoto’s gaze softened slightly, but her lips pressed together. “You suggest the servant has overstepped?”

“I do not accuse, Your Majesty,” he said quickly. “But proximity to the prince grants a privilege that must be handled with care. It may be wise to remind her, and her mother, of their station—especially while the prince is absent, or otherwise engaged in palace duties.”

The queen nodded thoughtfully. “I trust both the prince and the girl, Orochimaru. But you are right—perception matters. I will address this carefully.”

---

Later, Hinata’s mother was summoned to the queen’s chambers. She curtsied, a mix of respect and curiosity in her eyes.
“Sit, please,” Mikoto said, her tone calm but firm. “I wish to speak with you about your daughter and her position in the palace.”

Hinata’s mother inclined her head. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

“The Crown Prince is young,” Mikoto began.

“And your daughter is… close to him, as I understand. I trust both of you, but I must caution you against allowing this closeness to create misunderstandings. Remember your position in this household. Proximity to the prince is not a shield. It is a privilege, and it carries responsibility.”

Hinata’s mother lowered her gaze. “Yes, Your Majesty. I understand.”

“Very well,” Mikoto said gently. “Guide her carefully. Remind her that her duties and her rank remain foremost. The world outside will not excuse missteps, however innocent they may seem.”

---

Later, as Hinata moved through the palace corridors carrying messages, Orochimaru intercepted her quietly. His expression was neutral, though his eyes remained sharp.
“Hinata,” he said, voice low, “a word if you will.”

“Yes, Advisor Orochimaru?” she asked, curiosity and apprehension mingling.

“I am certain you are aware of the prince’s trust in you,” he said carefully.

“That is a privilege, not a right. You are a servant, and your station must be remembered. His favor is not friendship, nor could it ever be anything more than propriety allows. The crown prince is expected to marry Princess Ino Yamanaka. Keep this in mind.”

Hinata’s fingers brushed the silver bracelet on her wrist, a small knot of anxiety forming in her chest. “I understand,” she said softly.

“I will remember my place.”

Orochimaru studied her for a long moment. “Good. Carry out your duties, and let discretion guide you. The prince’s trust is not to be abused.”

As she walked away, her mind drifted briefly to Sasuke. She will not speak of this to him. But the reminder lingered: their bond must remain secret, and she must never overstep. Even in her private thoughts, she felt the tension between affection and duty, a quiet restraint shaping her every action.
And yet, the secret garden and the moments shared there remained hers alone, untouched by rules, whispers, or watchful eyes.

---

Later that evening, the palace quieted. Most of the household staff had retired to their quarters, and the corridors echoed with only the distant footsteps of guards. Hinata sat cross-legged on the floor of their small sitting room, carefully folding linens for the next day. Her mother, Hana, entered quietly, carrying a small tray of tea.

“Sit, Hinata,” Hana said gently, placing the tray before her. The fragrant steam curled upward, filling the space with a comforting warmth.

Hinata looked up, blinking. “Yes, Mother.”

Hana settled across from her, studying her daughter for a long moment. There was a soft seriousness in her eyes, a mixture of love and concern. “I want to ask you something,” she began, her voice calm but deliberate. “About the Crown Prince… about Sasuke.”

Hinata froze, fingers gripping the edge of the cloth she had been folding. She had known this moment might come, but she wasn’t sure she was ready.

“I… I don’t know what to say, Mother,” she murmured.

Hana reached out, brushing a strand of hair from Hinata’s face. “You don’t need to find words right now,” she said gently. “I just want to understand… how you see him. How you feel when you are with him.”

Hinata hesitated, frowning slightly. “He’s… different,” she said slowly, searching for an explanation. “He… listens to me in a way others don’t. He… makes me feel… safe.”

Her cheeks pinked slightly. “I… I like being with him.”

Hana nodded, not pushing, but her gaze softened with quiet understanding. “I see,” she said. “And you know, Hinata… what you feel for him is not like what you feel for me, or for Nana, or even for Naruto. That is natural. But feelings, especially ones this strong, can be confusing at your age.”

Hinata’s brow furrowed. “Confusing?” she asked.

“Yes,” Hana said carefully. “You are eleven. You are still learning about the world, about people, about how to place yourself in it. What you feel for Sasuke is… special, yes.

But remember who you are, and who you serve.” Her tone remained gentle but firm.

“You are a servant in this palace. He is the Crown Prince. This society… it does not allow such proximity between someone of your station and the prince, no matter how kind or loyal you are. Even if he treats you with care, there are limits you must respect.”

Hinata’s stomach twisted. “So… I can’t… be close to him?” she asked softly, confusion lining her voice.

“You can,” Hana said carefully, “but only in ways that are safe, honorable, and discreet. You can share moments, yes… but you must never let them cross boundaries that the palace, the court, or society would not accept. You must always remember your place. Not because your feelings are wrong—but because the world is not yet ready to understand them.”

Hinata bit her lip, trying to digest her mother’s words. She nodded slowly, though her heart felt heavy. “I… I understand, Mother.”

Hana reached out and held her daughter’s hands in hers. “I trust you, Hinata. I trust that you will be wise, and that you will cherish these moments safely. You are growing, and you will learn. For now… just remember that some things must remain quiet, even if they feel important. Some bonds are stronger when they are protected.”

Hinata looked down at her hands, the soft glow of the candlelight reflecting in her silver bracelet. She didn’t fully understand yet—couldn’t quite label the feelings that had been blooming quietly in her chest, but she felt a deep sense of trust and guidance from her mother, and the weight of her caution settled gently over her.

“Thank you, Mother,” she whispered.

“You’re welcome, my child,” Hana replied,

pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead.
“Now rest. Tomorrow is another day, and there will be time to think and to feel… carefully.”

---

The carriage wheels bit into the palace road as the hunting party returned, dust still clinging to leather and hems.

Sasuke climbed down with the easy, controlled confidence of someone who had spent a week living by skill and instinct. He had a new set of calluses on his palms, a sharper eye for tracks, and a small, satisfied pride in the way the older hunters nodded to him. He was eager to show everyone, especially Hinata—how much he had learned.

Naruto barreled ahead, voice booming, “We caught three boar and a fat stag! Prince Brood was the leader, wasn’t he awesome?”
He laughed, puffed with the kind of praise only Naruto could give.

Sasuke pushed through the familiar corridors faster than etiquette advised, imagining the secret garden, imagining Hinata’s face when he told her of the hunt, the new technique he’d learned, the way he’d practiced sliding a knot so it would never slip. He tugged at the collar of his shirt, feeling the crimson bead against his sternum as if it steadied him.

He found her at the servants’ basin, rinsing a stack of bowls. The lamplight painted her in a soft, dutiful glow. For a moment, everything slowed—then she looked up. Her eyes were polite, courteous, the easy warmth she usually reserved for him smoothed into the practiced detachment of a servant receiving her master.

“Sasuke,” she said, offering a small incline of the head. “You have returned.”

“Hinata.” He smiled, the kind of smile that used to make her melt—warm, obvious, entirely his. He stepped closer. “You should have seen the tracking lines—”

She moved back, just a fraction, enough to make him stumble over his words. “That’s—good to hear, Prince.” Her hands kept working, never pausing. Her voice had that clean, distant tone his mother used with visiting dignitaries. It was not cruel—only careful.

“Are you not—” He reached out before he realized it, fingers aiming for the sleeve where the bracelet peeked. He wanted to take her hand, to press it and show her the stag’s antler, to show her how the day had burned the inside of him with something that felt like achievement and like longing. She stepped away and set a bowl on the table between them.

“I’m busy,” she said. The words were small, almost apologetic, but the distance in them was as wide as any wall.

Sasuke’s chest tightened with something sour and unfamiliar. “Hinata—” he began.

She cut him off with a measured bow.

“Welcome home, Prince.” That was all. The words were correct. The inflection betrayed nothing.

He tried again that evening beneath the eaves of the servants’ hall, trying to catch her between duties. Each attempt met the same soft reserve. Once, when he called her name low enough for only her to hear, she gave a quick smile that never reached her eyes. She said she was glad he had returned safe; the sentence was correct, delivered like any other; the gratitude was a pale thing and then gone.

After the third gentle rebuff—hands brushed and then withdrawn, eyes that fled instead of stayed—Sasuke stopped trying to charm with jokes and instead sought counsel where he had gone before: Naruto.

Naruto listened with a scattershot of enthusiasm. “Maybe she’s mad you weren’t here! Or maybe she’s busy—duh. You just need to do something big, like bring her a present. Or—” he stopped, searching his face for something wiser, “—talk to her, man. Don’t be weird about it.”

Sasuke rubbed his temple. “She won’t talk to me.”

“Then give her a talk. You’re the prince, do a speech.” Naruto grinned, proud and useless.
Frustrated by the boy’s cheer and lack of depth, Sasuke left the bustling servants’ wing and walked alone down the long corridor that led to his father’s study.

The torchlight threw his shadow long and thin. He was used to acting; he was less used to not understanding.

---

The King’s office smelled of old paper and ink; the fire was low but patient. The King looked up from a ledger with the same practiced calm that had steadied the palace in storms Sasuke hardly remembered. He did not look surprised to see his son.

“Return was swift?” the King asked.

“Sire.” Sasuke set his satchel down and remained standing, boots whispering on the stone. He felt oddly childish in the full weight of the room. He tried to frame the question the way boys did when they were trying to hide their intent—detached, hypothetical, casual.

“If a friend—if there were a servant in the house that one cared for, how should one behave?” he asked, the words flat. He swallowed. “Say the friend was a boy.”

The King’s eyes flicked up, then down, as if reading some future in his son’s face. He did not ask who the hypothetical boy might be. He set his quill down and steepled his hands.

“A person’s station should be respected,” the King said slowly. “A prince must always balance personal feeling with duty. But that does not mean feeling itself is forbidden. It must simply be governed by prudence.” He paused, measuring the words like a steady hand weighing coin. “Know the difference between what you feel and what the court will allow. Be honest with yourself about your intentions, and be kind in how you carry them. If you truly care for someone, protect them—sometimes that protection is silence and distance. Sometimes it is openness and shelter. The choice requires you to understand the consequence.”

Sasuke stared. The King’s answer was not the blunt dismissal he had half expected; it was a map with no labeled destination. He had tried to trick his father into counsel by disguising his question as an abstraction, but the King had not been fooled. He had said nothing explicit; he had said everything the way a steady wind reveals a flag without touching it.

“You speak as though you are not young anymore,” the King added with a thin smile, then allowed himself a softer look. “You will learn what you must uphold. Remember, your rank heals some things—and deepens others. Be the kind of man who knows the difference.”

Sasuke pressed two fingers to his sternum where the crimson bead lay hidden. The King’s words shifted something inside him. The chores and lessons and triumphs at the hunt were one sort of growing, public, observable—but this was another: the slow, private admission that Hinata was not like anyone else. Not like mother or brother or Nana; she occupied a space in him that commands and titles could not define.

He left the study feeling both more burdened and oddly clearer. The King had not given him the answers he wanted; he’d given him the question he needed. Outside, the courtyard was cool and still. Sasuke slipped his hand into his shirt and felt the bead between his fingers, small and constant as a promise.

---

He went then, not to boast or to parade, but to find her—not to demand warmth but to understand it. Whatever the court required, whatever the rules dictated, he would learn what “protect” meant for her, in actions and not just in words. He did not yet have the language for what pulled at his chest—only the understanding that it would not be the same as any other thing he had known.

For the first time in days, he allowed himself to feel afraid in a way that meant something more than danger on the hunt. It felt domestic, private; it was the fear of losing a quiet thing he had not yet fully named.

---

It had been three days since Sasuke returned from the hunting trip, and the palace’s rhythm had settled again at least, for everyone else.

Hinata’s rhythm was off.
She saw him in passing often, his dark hair moving through the sunlight, his easy stride as he crossed the courtyard, the faint curl of his smile when the other servants bowed. But she no longer lingered where he might find her. She no longer attended their sword lessons or waited by the courtyard wall or the pond. When he approached, she found a reason to bow and step away.

At first, it hurt him. Now, it just left a hollow sort of ache neither of them knew how to name.

That afternoon, the palace kitchen was alive with noise. Copper pots clanged, bread dough rose in thick wooden bowls, and the air smelled of herbs and simmering broth. Hinata worked quietly at the table, chopping vegetables with precise, nervous movements. Nana hovered nearby, her small frame draped in a faded shawl, eyes sharp despite the years.

“Slow down, child, before you lose a finger,” the old woman chided gently.

Hinata paused, exhaled, and resumed at a steadier pace. But the tension didn’t leave her shoulders.

Nana noticed, as she always did.
A few minutes passed before the old woman spoke again. “You’ve been quiet lately,” she said, stirring a pot without looking at her.

“Even for you.”

Hinata’s knife hesitated mid-cut. “I’m fine, Nana.”

“Mmm,” Nana hummed, unconvinced. “You know, when people say they’re fine while looking like ghosts, they’re usually not.”

Hinata bit her lip. “It’s nothing… really.”
The kitchen door creaked, and a burst of voices carried from the courtyard. Sasuke’s laugh, low and certain—cut through the chatter like sunlight breaking through cloud.

He was walking with two of the guards, his posture proud, his hands gesturing as he spoke. When his eyes briefly swept the kitchen’s doorway and landed on her, Hinata froze. Their gaze met for half a heartbeat—his uncertain, hers guarded.

Then she turned back to her cutting board as if the vegetables had become the most important thing in the world.

Sasuke lingered a moment longer in the doorway, something flickering across his face—hurt, confusion, the faintest thread of longing. Then, with a clipped breath, he turned and left.

Nana watched the exchange, her ladle stilling in the pot. When the door closed and the noise outside faded, she wiped her hands on her apron and turned toward the girl.

“So,” she said softly, “that’s what’s troubling you.”

Hinata’s shoulders slumped. “It’s not—”

“Ah,” Nana interrupted gently, “don’t lie to an old woman who’s seen more love and foolishness than you have fingers on your hands.”

Hinata flushed, eyes fixed on the table.

“He’s the prince,” she whispered. “And I’m just…” She trailed off, her hands tightening around the knife.

“Just Hinata?” Nana finished for her.

Hinata nodded, silent.

Nana sat down beside her, the chair creaking softly beneath her weight. “Listen to me, little one. People like him are raised to believe the world belongs to them. People like us are raised to keep that world from falling apart.”

Hinata’s eyes glistened. “So you’re saying I shouldn’t care for him?”

Nana smiled sadly. “I’m saying you already do. What you feel isn’t wrong, Hinata. It’s what makes you kind, what makes you you. But feelings… especially those that cross the lines of rank and title, must be handled carefully. They can warm you, yes, but they can also burn you if you forget how close the fire is.”

Hinata’s voice trembled. “He used to… talk to me differently. He used to smile when he saw me. Now he barely does. And when he tries, I—” She swallowed hard. “I don’t know how to act anymore.”

Nana reached out, her wrinkled hand resting lightly over Hinata’s. “That’s because you’re growing, child. So is he. And growing changes people. He doesn’t yet understand what he’s feeling—nor do you.

But what you both have…” She smiled faintly. “It’s rare. Gentle. Don’t let the world crush it before it has the chance to become what it’s meant to be.”

Hinata blinked up at her, uncertain. “And what if it’s never meant to be anything more?”

“Then let it be what it is,” Nana replied softly. “Something beautiful, even if it’s brief. Some bonds aren’t made to last in the way you wish—they last in other ways. Quiet ways. In memory, in kindness, in who they help you become.”

Hinata looked down, tears threatening at the corners of her eyes. “I just… I don’t want to lose him.”

Nana’s hand squeezed hers gently. “Then don’t. Keep him where you can—here.” She tapped her chest. “Even if the world tells you to keep your distance, love doesn’t vanish because you can’t touch it. It just changes shape.”

For a long moment, they sat there, the kitchen filled with the soft sound of boiling broth and distant birdsong.

Hinata finally leaned her head against Nana’s shoulder, small and tired. “You always make it sound so simple,” she murmured.

The old woman chuckled, stroking her hair.

“It’s never simple, my dear. But we can make it gentle.”

Chapter Text

The following morning, the palace stirred with uncharacteristic noise—guards stationed in ceremonial posture, maids running with fresh flowers, and the sound of carriage wheels echoing through the marble hall.

A visitor had arrived, unannounced but unmistakably welcome.

Sasuke stood near one of the tall windows overlooking the inner courtyard. His hands rested behind his back, posture straight, but his gaze was distant. He had spent most of the day drifting through duties on instinct, his mind still caught somewhere between the silence Hinata had built around herself and the way she used to smile without thinking.

He had begun to understand what his father meant. Some distances weren’t measured in steps but in truths left unsaid.

The great doors opened with a flourish, and a lilting voice rang through the hall.

“Prince Sasuke!”

He turned, expression unreadable. Princess Ino of the Northern Empire—golden-haired, perfectly poised, draped in lilac silk—entered with a small entourage. Her perfume reached him before her words did, light and deliberate.

“Ino,” he greeted politely, bowing just enough to satisfy decorum.

She moved closer, the picture of grace, though her eyes sparkled with mischief.

“You didn’t expect me, did you? I wanted to surprise you.”

He blinked once, slow. “You succeeded.”

She laughed softly, twirling a lock of hair.

“You’ve grown taller,” she observed, stepping closer still. “And quieter. I remember you used to talk more when we were children.”

“People change,” he said simply, though his gaze had already drifted back to the window.

Ino tilted her head, unfazed by his indifference. She reached out, brushing imaginary dust from his shoulder. “Still so serious,” she teased. “You really should learn to relax, Sasuke.”

He barely flinched. His mind was elsewhere—on a quiet garden hidden behind the palace, on the sound of soft laughter by the pond, on silver glinting in sunlight.

She stepped even closer, clearly enjoying the lack of resistance. “You never could resist a challenge, could you?”

Before he could answer, she leaned in and pressed her lips lightly against his cheek.

The sound was almost inaudible, a whisper of contact—but it cut through him all the same.

Sasuke froze, eyes widening just slightly, more in surprise than anything else.

He didn’t have time to react.
From the corner of his vision, movement—
Hinata.

She stood at the threshold, clutching the edge of the doorframe, her breath caught mid-syllable.

For a heartbeat, neither moved.

Her face paled, eyes wide, and then—like a shutter closing—her expression shifted. Controlled. Courteous. Empty.

“Forgive the intrusion, Your Highness,” she said softly, bowing low, her voice smooth and sharp all at once. “I did not mean to disturb the Crown Prince and his guest.”

“Hinata—” Sasuke began, his tone urgent, almost pleading.

But she was already stepping back. “I shall come back later, once the Crown Prince is no longer occupied.”

The formality of her words hit harder than any raised voice could. She did not look at him again. Her gaze stayed fixed on the polished floor as she retreated, her composure perfect, her hands trembling just slightly at her sides.

The sound of the closing doors lingered longer than Ino’s laughter.

Sasuke stood frozen for a moment longer, then turned sharply away, the faintest crack in his calm visible in the way his hand clenched at his side.

Ino tilted her head, feigning innocence. “Did I interrupt something?”

He didn’t answer. His throat felt tight, the air too thin. The warmth of her kiss had already turned cold.

When he finally moved, it was abrupt—he brushed past her without a word and strode down the corridor, every step echoing with something heavy and unspoken.

…

Later That Evening

Hinata sat on the edge of her small cot in the servants' quarters she shared with her mother, staring at her hands. She could still feel the sharp sting of the words she'd forced herself to say—"the Crown Prince."

Not Sasuke. Not the boy who once tucked flowers behind her ear. Not the boy who had promised always and forever.

The Crown Prince.

Her chest hurt in a way she didn't yet have the language for.

But still—she told herself—it was for the best.

……

The corridors were quiet that night, the torches burning low, shadows stretching long across the stone floors.

Sasuke moved through them, his pulse still sharp with what had happened earlier. The echo of Hinata’s words “the Crown Prince” rang in his mind like a reprimand.

It wasn’t her tone that hurt him. It was the distance in it. The wall. The fact that she’d used his title as a shield.

He finally found her near the servant’s quarters, gathering linens for the morning. Her back was to him, shoulders tense, hands still trembling slightly from the earlier scene.

“HINATA.”

His voice cut through the quiet like a blade.
She froze, then straightened her back but didn’t turn. “Your Highness.”

“Don’t.” He hated the word the moment it left her mouth. He stepped closer, anger and hurt tangled in his voice. “Don’t call me that.”

“What else should I call you?” she asked softly, still facing away. “That is who you are, isn’t it? The Crown Prince.”

He moved closer, until his shadow stretched across hers. “That’s not who I am to you.”

Hinata swallowed hard. “It has to be.”
Her voice was steady, but her fingers gripped the linen so tightly that her knuckles whitened.

Sasuke’s temper flickered. “Why are you doing this?” he demanded. “You’ve been avoiding me since I came back. Then you saw something you didn’t understand and—”

“I understood perfectly,” she interrupted, finally turning to face him. Her eyes glimmered in the torchlight — hurt, anger, something deeper. “I understood that a prince belongs beside a princess, not beside a servant.”

He took another step forward, his frustration spilling over. “I never asked to be a prince!”

“No,” she said, voice trembling, “but you are one. And I—” She faltered, eyes falling to the ground. “I am not.”

Something in him snapped. “And if I command you not to say that again?” he shot back, his voice low, too sharp. “If I remind you that as Crown Prince, I can ask anything of you—would you obey?”

Hinata looked up at him, the hurt in her eyes darkening into something else — quiet defiance.

“Yes,” she whispered. “Because that is what I am expected to do. Whatever the Crown Prince asks, the servant obeys.”

The words struck him like a slap. For a heartbeat, neither moved. The silence between them felt too loud, too fragile.

Then Sasuke exhaled — the anger leaving him all at once, replaced by shame. His voice softened. “That’s not what I meant,” he said quietly. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

Hinata looked away. “Didn’t you?”

He stepped closer, this time slower, gentler. “You think I don’t care? That you mean nothing?”

Her throat tightened. “It doesn’t matter what I think. It doesn’t change what we are.”

“It does to me,” he said.

They stood there, face to face in the narrow corridor, the air thick with everything they couldn’t say. The torchlight flickered across the silver of her bracelet and the faint outline of the necklace beneath his shirt — small, matching pieces that bound them together even when words failed.

He wanted to reach out — to close the distance, to make her see what he couldn’t explain — but he didn’t. He only said her name once more, softer than before.
“Hina…”

She shook her head. “Sasu… don’t. Please.” The name came out like a habit she couldn’t break, betraying the distance she was trying so hard to hold.

He hesitated. “You think I wanted her to kiss me?”

Hinata blinked, her breath catching. He saw the truth flicker in her expression — the doubt, the hurt, the hope she’d been trying so hard to bury.

“No,” she whispered. “But it doesn’t change what I saw.”

Sasuke looked down, his hand unconsciously rising to touch the place where Ino’s kiss had landed.

“No,” he said quietly. “It doesn’t.” He met her eyes again, his voice lower now, rougher.

“But it changes what I felt.”

Hinata stared at him, confusion and longing mixing on her face. “What do you mean?”

He stepped back, as if afraid of his own honesty. “That I didn’t feel anything. That I never do — not like when I see you.”

Her breath hitched, and for a moment, the world seemed to still around them.
But before either could say more, footsteps echoed from the far end of the corridor. A pair of maids hurried by, whispering, their lanterns swinging between them. The moment broke.

Hinata quickly turned away, her hands clutching the folded linens like a shield.

“You shouldn’t be here, Your Highness.”

He winced at the title, at how small it made him feel. “Hinata—”

She shook her head, cutting him off.

“Please,” she said quietly, not looking back. “Don’t make this harder than it already is.”

Sasuke stood there, helpless, watching her disappear down the corridor until the sound of her footsteps faded into the dark.

He pressed a hand against his chest, feeling the weight of the necklace beneath his shirt.
“Always and forever,” he murmured to the empty hallway. “You promised.”

The silence didn’t answer.
……………..

The days that followed were quiet. Too quiet.

Hinata kept to her duties with practiced precision — serving tea, tending to the gardens, helping Nana in the kitchen and old man Shiro with traditional medicine tasks— yet her laughter was gone.

Even Naruto noticed, though he said nothing to Sasuke at first. The prince had tried, in his own clumsy way, to speak to her several times, but she always found a reason to retreat.

When she smiled, it was polite. When she spoke, it was careful.
And when she looked at him… she didn’t.
It was the first time Sasuke had ever felt truly powerless.

Finally, one evening, he sought Naruto out behind the stables, where the older boy was feeding the horses.
“She won’t even look at me,” Sasuke admitted, his tone low but tight with frustration.
Naruto raised a brow. “Maybe because you acted like a royal idiot?”
Sasuke glared. “You’re not helping.”
Naruto grinned faintly. “You don’t need help talking. You need a plan.”

They stood in silence for a moment before Naruto’s grin widened.

“Alright, listen. She still trusts me enough to train, I will take her to the floral clearing south of the woods, the one she likes. I will tell her it’s for sword practice. I’ll handle the rest.”

Sasuke frowned. “You’ll handle it?”

Naruto nodded. “I’ll make sure she goes there alone. You’ll get your chance to fix this mess.”

………

The afternoon light was gold and heavy, the forest alive with the smell of blooming plum and warm grass.

Naruto leaned casually against the stable door, his grin giving away more than his words. “I told her to meet me for training in the southern grove. You’ve got half an hour before she starts asking questions, so make it count.”

Sasuke frowned, adjusting the leather strap around his sword. “You sound like you’re enjoying this too much.”

“Maybe I am,” Naruto said, half laughing.

“You’ve been unbearable since she stopped talking to you. Fix it before you drive the entire palace insane.”

Sasuke didn’t reply, but his jaw tightened. It wasn’t his fault women were so hard to understand.

He left before Naruto could say more.

……………..

Hinata was already there when he reached the grove. The clearing was dappled with sunlight, petals drifting down like pale snow. Her sword was in hand, her posture graceful but uncertain.

When she turned and saw him, she stiffened. “Where’s Naruto?”

“He’s not coming.” Sasuke unsheathed his blade. “We’re sparring.”

She hesitated. “I didn’t agree to—”

“Then consider this a lesson,” he said curtly, stepping forward.

Her lips parted in protest, but the look in his eyes made her lift her sword almost instinctively. Their blades met with a ringing note, clear and sharp in the quiet grove.
He pressed forward, not with malice, but with intensity. Each strike felt like a question he couldn’t voice. Why are you avoiding me? Why won’t you look at me?

Hinata parried, her movements swift, fluid — until she used the one manoeuvre he’d taught her long ago: a feint, a pivot, and a light touch to his, he caught her blade effortlessly.
“Again,” he said, not unkindly.
She obeyed, but her strikes grew uneven.

Her breath quickened.

“Again.”

Her hands trembled. “Why are you—”

“Again, Hinata!”

The sharpness in his voice broke her focus; her sword slipped from her grasp, clattering to the ground.

Before she could move, he caught her wrist — not harshly, but firmly enough that she couldn’t pull away.

“Why are you running away from me?” His voice was low, almost pleading. “What did I do?”

“Let go,” she whispered, her eyes glistening.

“Not until you tell me,” he said. His grip loosened slightly, but he didn’t move back.

“Tell me why you won’t even look at me anymore. Why you talk to me like I’m—” His breath hitched. “Like I’m no one to you.”

Her chest tightened. “You’re not no one,” she said, her voice breaking. “You’re everything I can’t have.”

He froze.

Her tears came then, silent, trembling as she pushed at his chest. “You’re the prince, Sasuke! You’re supposed to marry a princess, not train with a servant in the woods!”

“I don’t care about that!” he said, voice raw.

“You should!” she shouted back, surprising even herself. “Because if you don’t, one of us will get hurt, and I don’t want that to happen!”

She tried to turn away, but he stepped in front of her, pressing his hand against the tree beside her head, not trapping, not forcing, but desperate.

“Then tell me what to do,” he said hoarsely.

“Tell me how to make this right. Tell me what I did to lose you.”

Hinata’s hands shook. “You didn’t lose me,” she whispered, tears streaking her cheeks.

She shook her head, eyes glistening. “You didn’t do anything, Sasuke. You just… exist in a way that hurts.”

He frowned. “Hurts?”

“You’re the Crown Prince,” she said, her voice breaking. “And I’m a servant. We can’t—”

He stepped closer, his breath uneven.

“Don’t say that.”

“It’s true,” she whispered. “You belong to a world that isn’t mine.”

For a long moment, neither spoke. The forest seemed to shrink around them — the distant hum of cicadas, the quiet rush of wind through the trees, all fading into the heavy silence between them.

Sasuke’s fingers loosened around her wrist, but he didn’t step back. “I don’t understand any of this,” he said finally, his voice shaking with something rare and unguarded.”

Hinata looked up, startled — her breath caught halfway.

Sasuke’s gaze softened. “You confuse me,” he admitted, almost in disbelief at his own words. “You make me feel… things I don’t have words for. I don’t even know what this is. But when I’m with you—” He paused, searching for the words. “When I’m with you, everything feels… right. Like the world finally makes sense.”

Hinata’s tears slipped free, one by one, her heart caught between fear and something dangerously close to hope.

He took another small step closer. “Tell me I’m wrong,” he whispered. “Tell me this isn’t real.”

But she couldn’t.

Her lips parted, trembling. “I can’t,” she said, her voice barely more than a breath. “Because I feel it too.”

Something in him broke open then — the wall he’d built between duty and desire, name and heart. He reached up slowly, his fingers brushing away the tear that clung to her cheek.

“I don’t care about rules,” he said softly. “Or names. Or what I’m supposed to be.”
Her breath caught as his forehead rested gently against hers, the warmth of him both overwhelming and grounding.

“I just care about this,” he whispered. “About you.”

Hinata’s hands trembled before finding their way to his chest, over the steady beat of his heart. For a moment, she simply stood there, eyes closed, letting herself believe that the world outside the clearing didn’t exist.

Then, as naturally as breathing, she lifted her face — and he met her halfway.
Their kiss was tentative at first, soft and uncertain, the kind of kiss that asked rather than took. But it deepened slowly, not with hunger, but with recognition. It wasn’t perfect. It was real. It was theirs.
When they finally pulled apart, neither spoke. The air between them was heavy with everything they had said — and everything they hadn’t.

Sasuke exhaled, brushing his thumb over the silver bracelet at her wrist. “You once said this was a promise,” he murmured.

“Maybe it still is.”

Hinata smiled faintly through her tears.

“Always and forever,” she whispered.
He nodded, voice steady but soft. “Always and forever.”

The promise hung in the air fragile, sacred, and quietly defiant as they stood together beneath the canopy of flowers, two hearts still too young to understand the cost of what they had just vowed… but certain that, whatever came next, neither would ever forget the moment the world finally felt right.

Chapter Text

A year had passed, though to Sasuke it felt like no time at all.

The palace changed with the seasons — bright gardens fading into frost and returning again to bloom — but his world had narrowed to one simple truth: wherever Hinata was, that was home.

No one knew. Not really.
Not the Queen, not the servants, not even Hana.

Only Naruto… and maybe Shiro and Nana.

And even then, it wasn’t something they ever spoke of directly. Naruto had seen the way Hinata’s eyes softened when she looked at Sasuke, how the prince’s hand would linger just a little too long when passing her a scroll or a blade during training. He understood and, as he always did, he kept the secret.

It wasn’t love as others would define it.
They were too young, too cautious, too aware of the danger that words like “love” could bring in a palace built on ranks and rules. But it was real, something beyond friendship, deep and steady.

Hinata started to call him “Sasu” more often now.

Only in quiet moments.
Only when it was just them, or when Naruto, Nana and Shiro were near enough to hear but kind enough to look away.

Her voice softened whenever she said it, as though the name itself was fragile. And each time, Sasuke’s chest tightened in that same unexplainable way that made him both restless and calm.

Their affection lived in small gestures.
When they trained, their foreheads brushed briefly in greeting. When they parted, Hinata would press a shy kiss to his cheek, and he, in turn, would flick her forehead lightly, a dear custom he’d adapted from his dad as a sign of affection and care, or rest his lips there in quiet return.

No one questioned anything, not yet.

To the world, she was still just a Hyuga servant with remarkable discipline and unusual access to the Crown Prince’s lessons. But behind the walls of their shared silence, they had built something sacred

…………….

War had begun to whisper at the borders of the Uchiha Empire.

First, it was talk in the halls.

Then, it became real: longer meetings in the war room, sealed letters from the generals, and nights when the King did not return home.

Fugaku Uchiha, the once unshakable ruler, was now often gone for months. The Queen carried herself with even greater restraint, proud and cold as polished steel, while Orochimaru’s shadow lingered closer to the throne than ever.

Sasuke felt the weight of it, though he didn’t fully understand. He only knew that each time his father left, he stood in the courtyard until the sound of hooves disappeared into the distance — and each time, Hinata was there, quiet beside him.

“You’ll be king someday,” she said once, her voice small but certain.

He frowned, glancing at her. “I don’t want to be.”

Hinata smiled faintly. “You say that now.”

“I mean it.” He looked down at her, the wind brushing through his dark hair. “If I could choose, I’d stay here. With you and Naruto. Forever.”

Her cheeks warmed, but her eyes softened.

“Then promise me,” she whispered, echoing a memory.

He smirked, faintly — the same way he had that afternoon in the garden years before.

“Always and forever.”

Their foreheads touched — the quiet seal of a promise that neither of them knew how fragile it truly was.

……………

But the days that followed were quieter still.
The Queen watched her son grow more thoughtful, more distant from the court’s young nobles. Orochimaru whispered his observations to her in hushed tones — He spends too much time with the servant girl. It could become… inconvenient.
Mikoto didn’t respond, but her silence carried weight.

And far away, on the battlefield, the King’s letters came less frequently. His last one ended with a promise: Soon. I will return soon.

But promises, Sasuke would learn, did not always hold against the will of fate.

………………

The war remained a shadow at the edges of the palace, never fully reaching them — or so they tried to believe.

Life inside the castle carried on in rhythms of duty and comfort. Hinata woke with the dawn, her hands busy with chores before most had opened their eyes. Sasuke trained in the courtyard, his movements growing sharper, more deliberate, each swing of his sword echoing his father’s precision.

In between those hours, they carved out small moments that belonged to them alone.

When Sasuke grew frustrated during lessons, he would retreat to the hidden garden. There, Hinata would already be waiting, pretending she had come only to water the lilies. He’d roll his eyes, pretending to believe her.
Sometimes, she brought small gifts — a folded origami crane, a polished pebble, once even a ribbon she had stitched herself.

He never said much when she offered them, but she’d later find the objects carefully tucked among his books or wrapped in cloth beside his bed.

Naruto watched all of this from a distance, often teasing, never intruding. He knew it was fragile, something that would shatter if too many eyes looked too closely.

One evening, as the sun bled orange across the horizon, Sasuke and Hinata sat side by side near the pond behind the gardens.

“You’re quieter lately,” Hinata said softly, drawing patterns on the surface of the water with her finger.

Sasuke hummed. “Mother says I have to start attending the war councils soon.”

Her hand stilled. “You?”

He nodded. “Father thinks it’s time I understand what ruling means.”

Hinata’s chest tightened. “Do you want to?”

“I don’t know.” His voice lowered. “But he won’t be around forever.”

He didn’t mean it as an omen, but the words hung heavy in the air.

Hinata turned to him, eyes soft with worry. “Then… promise you won’t forget this,” she said quietly.

He frowned. “Forget what?”

“This,” she said, gesturing faintly to the space between them. “Us. Before all of that begins.”

He looked at her for a long moment, really looked — then nodded. “Never.”

She smiled, a small, wistful thing, before leaning forward and pressing her forehead against his.
He returned the gesture, their noses brushing in that familiar, wordless language that had become theirs.

“Always and forever,” she whispered.
He echoed it, a quiet vow against the coming dark.

…

Weeks passed. Letters arrived from the front less and less often. When they did, they were shorter, marked with hurried handwriting and stains of ash. The servants whispered that the war had turned — that the Northern Empire’s army had begun to press southward with unexpected strength.
One morning, the Queen received a sealed letter bearing the royal crest — not of their own kingdom, but of an allied one.

She didn’t open it at once. She only stared, fingers pale and still. When she finally did, the faintest tremor passed through her lips before she handed it silently to Orochimaru.
He read it once. Then lowered his gaze. “Your Majesty… I’m sorry.”

The palace bells tolled that evening — deep, heavy, unending.

Hinata dropped the basket she was carrying when she heard the first one.
She knew. Somehow, before anyone said the words aloud, she knew.

Sasuke didn’t cry when they told him.
He stood beside the Queen in the great hall as the messenger knelt before them, armor still streaked with mud.

“His Majesty fell in the Battle of the Southern Dunes,” the soldier said, voice steady despite the weight of it. “He fought bravely, until the end.”

Sasuke’s hands curled into fists at his sides, his knuckles white.

Later that night, long after the hall had emptied and the torches had burned low, Hinata found him in the garden — the same place where they’d once made promises about forever.

He was sitting by the pond, staring at the water, his father’s crest lying beside him in the grass. The silver of his necklace — her gift — glinted faintly against his throat.
She didn’t speak. She just approached, kneeling in front of him.

For a long time, neither moved. Then Sasuke raised his head, his voice hoarse and small in a way she had never heard before.

“He’s gone, Hinata.”

She reached for him, her hand finding his. “I know.”

He didn’t pull away. His head bowed, and their foreheads touched in silence — no words, no titles, just two children clinging to what little they had left.

“Always and forever,” she whispered again, though this time it broke on the last word.
Sasuke’s breath shook. “Always and forever.”

And for the first time since he was born a prince, Sasuke Uchiha allowed himself to cry.
…………………

The palace no longer felt alive.

After the King’s funeral, the world moved as if underwater. Servants whispered softer. The courtyards emptied earlier. Even the fountains seemed to flow slower, as though mourning too.

Sasuke changed.

He rose before dawn, trained until his hands blistered, studied until his eyes burned, and spoke to no one unless duty demanded it.

The boy who once smirked, who found hidden gardens and teased Hinata about her shyness, seemed to have vanished entirely.

Hinata noticed it first in his eyes — how they no longer lingered when she entered a room.
He wasn’t unkind. He was simply… absent.
She still tried.
Every morning, she’d bring tea or medicine from the herbalist, claiming excuses to see him.
Sometimes, he’d take it wordlessly. Sometimes, he’d walk past her without even looking.

It wasn’t cruelty.
It was grief, and it swallowed him whole.

Naruto tried to reach him too.
He’d challenge him to spar, joke about the councilmen, even sneak food into his chambers. But Sasuke would just shake his head and leave, his silence heavier than any reprimand.

“Give him time,” the crown herbalist said one day, after Naruto came to the small herb-scented study looking worried.

The herbalist was an older man named Shiro, with weathered hands and eyes that saw more than he ever said. He had treated them since they were children.

“It’s been months,” Naruto muttered. “He doesn’t even look at her anymore.”

Shiro placed another vial onto his table, his tone calm but certain.
“Grief is a strange illness. You can’t cure it by standing outside the door, but you can remind him that someone still knocks.”

Naruto frowned. “So… I keep trying?”

Shiro smiled faintly. “You and the girl both. He needs to remember he’s still alive.”

Hinata didn’t give up.

Even when Sasuke ignored her greetings, even when he stood in the rain training until his sword trembled in his hand, she waited.

Sometimes she’d just sit nearby under the old cypress tree, mending linens, saying nothing.

One evening, as dusk settled, she saw him standing by the pond, the same one where they had created countless of memories.
She hesitated, then stepped closer.

“You’ll make yourself sick,” she said softly.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not,” she insisted.

His hand tightened on the hilt of his sword. “What would you know of it?”

The words were sharp, and she flinched. But instead of retreating, she whispered,
“I know what it’s like to lose someone. I know what it’s like to feel… alone.”

Something flickered in his eyes, quickly buried again.

“You can’t understand,” he murmured.

Hinata’s voice trembled. “Then help me. Make me understand.”

He didn’t reply. He turned and walked away, leaving her standing under the dim orange light — small, hurt, but still hopeful.

Weeks passed again. Sasuke continued to train, to study, to follow his mother’s orders like a shadow.

Queen Mikoto had taken the throne with the same steadiness her husband once carried — but colder. Her composure was perfect, her grief unseen. To the court, she was unbreakable.
Only Sasuke knew the truth.
When the halls were empty, he would sometimes find her sitting in the royal chamber with her crown resting on the table beside her, staring at nothing.

Yet even then, when he tried to speak, her eyes hardened. “You must be strong,” she said once, her voice thin as glass. “You are the heir. You have no right to fall apart.”
…………….

It was Shiro, who found him one afternoon in the training grounds, soaked in sweat and trembling with exhaustion.

When the sound of footsteps reached him, he ignored it at first. But then a quiet voice spoke, one he’d known since childhood.

“You’ll break more than the dummy if you keep going like that,” said Shiro.

Sasuke lowered his sword but didn’t turn around. “I told you before,” he muttered, his voice rough, “I don’t need anyone worrying over me.”

Shiro didn’t move closer. He leaned his weight against the doorway, hands folded behind his back, eyes calm and unreadable.

“That’s good,” he said. “Because I didn’t come to worry. I came to remind you that grief doesn’t disappear just because you pretend not to feel it.”

Sasuke’s knuckles went white on the hilt. “And what would you know about it?”

The older man’s eyes softened. “More than you think.”

For a moment, silence. The air smelled faintly of rain and cedar.

Sasuke turned then — eyes shadowed, jaw tight. “They all keep saying he died a hero. That I should be proud. But I don’t feel proud.”

“What do you feel?”

He hesitated. Then the words came, quiet, bitter, trembling at the edges:

“Nothing. Just… empty.”

Shiro nodded slowly, as though he had expected that answer. “You mistake emptiness for strength. It isn’t. It’s absence.”
Sasuke looked away. “If I stop, if I let myself think about it, I’ll—”
He cut himself short. His throat tightened.

“You’ll what?”

“Fall apart,” he said finally. “And I can’t. Not now. Not with my mother watching, not with the council whispering, not when everyone expects me to—”

“To be him,” Shiro finished quietly.
Sasuke flinched.

The herbalist sighed, stepping closer now, his voice lower, deliberate. “Your father’s shadow is not a cloak for you to wear, Sasuke. It’s a memory. One that’s supposed to walk beside you, not drag you down.”

The boy’s shoulders trembled. “He was… everything,” he whispered. “How am I supposed to lead if I can’t even fill his absence?”

Shiro studied him for a long moment before answering. “By remembering what he taught you — not with his words, but through the people he trusted.”

Sasuke frowned slightly, confused.

“Your father believed strength meant loyalty, connection, compassion. You push them away — Hinata, Naruto, everyone — and call it control. But all you’re doing is standing alone in a house full of ghosts.”

The words cut clean through him. His sword slipped from his fingers, hitting the dirt with a dull sound.

“I don’t know how to stop,” he said quietly, voice breaking for the first time.

Shiro didn’t look away. “You already have. You stopped running when you came to the training yard today instead of the field. You stayed here — inside these walls. You’re not trying to escape. You’re trying to find your way back.”

Sasuke’s brow furrowed, his eyes wet though he didn’t notice. “Back to what?”

“To the boy who used to believe that being seen wasn’t a weakness,” Shiro said gently.
He took a slow step closer. “Back to the people who see you still.”

A long silence followed. The only sound was the rain beginning to fall — soft, steady, like the world breathing again.

Sasuke stood there for a long moment, staring at the ground. Then, almost to himself, he whispered,
“I keep seeing him. Every time I close my eyes, he’s there. Then he’s gone.”

“That’s grief,” Shiro murmured. “It doesn’t leave you. But it changes shape — it becomes the reason you reach out instead of shut down.”

Sasuke finally looked up, meeting Shiro’s gaze. There was a quiet resolve behind the exhaustion now — a faint, fragile spark of something he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in months.

Shiro smiled faintly, as though seeing it too. “Go home, boy,” he said softly. “Not to your chambers. To where your heart still waits for you.”

Sasuke’s throat tightened, but he nodded. He bent to pick up his sword — not as a weapon, but a reminder. Then, without another word, he turned and left the training yard, rain dripping from his hair, his steps steady and sure.

He didn’t yet know what he would say to her — only that he needed to see her, to tell her that for the first time since his father’s death, he felt.

And that it was her he felt for.

……………….

The rain had eased to a mist by the time Sasuke reached the gardens.
The stone paths shimmered silver under the moonlight, and the air smelled faintly of jasmine and wet soil — that same scent that had once wrapped around his childhood.

He found her exactly where he’d always known she’d be.
By the pond.

Hinata sat on the edge of the stone rim, knees drawn close, the light of a small lantern trembling beside her. Her hands rested on her lap, still and careful, like she was afraid even breathing too loudly might disturb the quiet.

For a moment, Sasuke just watched.
Watched the way her hair clung to her shoulders from the damp, the way her bracelet caught the faintest light.
He hadn’t realized until now how much he’d missed just… looking at her.

He stepped forward, boots crunching softly on the gravel.
She turned at the sound — startled, almost rising, but stopping herself when she saw who it was.

“Your High—” She caught herself, the formality cracking slightly. “Sasuke.”

He froze at the sound of his name.
It had been months since she’d said it aloud.

“Why are you here?” she asked, her tone soft but guarded, unsure which version of him she was facing — the boy she knew, or the cold shadow he had become.

Sasuke’s throat tightened. “Because I needed to be.”

The answer made her frown faintly, confused, but she didn’t look away.
He took a slow breath, and for once, he didn’t try to hold himself perfectly still.

“I thought if I shut everything out, it would stop hurting,” he said quietly. “But it didn’t. It just made everything… quieter. And worse.”

Hinata looked down, fingers brushing her bracelet — the one that matched the necklace he still wore. “You stopped talking to me,” she whispered. “You stopped looking at anyone. I thought I did something wrong.”

His eyes softened. “You didn’t.”

“Then why—”

“Because every time I looked at you,” he cut in, voice trembling slightly, “I remembered what it felt like before everything broke. You were a reminder that something could still feel right — and I hated it.”

Hinata’s breath caught. The words hurt, but not because they were cruel — because they were honest.

Sasuke ran a hand through his hair, his composure slipping completely. “I thought forgetting would make me stronger. But Shiro was right — all it did was make me alone.”

A tear slid down Hinata’s cheek before she could stop it. “You’re not alone, Sasuke. You never were. I was here… even when you didn’t see me.”

He took a step closer. “I see you now.”

Her heart stuttered in her chest.

Sasuke’s voice grew quieter, steadier. “I don’t understand what I’m supposed to feel, or how I’m supposed to lead, or what comes next. But I know that when I’m near you, it doesn’t feel wrong. It feels… real.”

Hinata’s eyes glistened, her lips trembling between a smile and a sob. “I missed you,” she whispered.

He reached out slowly — hesitating, as though asking permission — and then rested his hand against her cheek. “I missed you too.”

For a moment, they just stood there, breathing the same air, their hearts syncing in the quiet between words.

Then, as he had done countless times when words failed, Sasuke leaned forward until their foreheads touched.
The gesture was familiar, but this time it carried the weight of everything unspoken — grief, apology, love.

Their noses brushed, her hands gripping the front of his shirt as though anchoring herself.

“I’m still here,” she murmured.

“I know,” he whispered. “And I won’t disappear again.”

She smiled softly through her tears. “Promise?”

He exhaled, his thumb brushing her jaw. “Promise.”

The rain stopped completely. The moon broke through the clouds, spilling pale light over them.

And for the first time since the King’s death, the world felt whole again — not because the pain was gone, but because they had found a way to carry it together.

Chapter Text

Seven months had passed since the palace bells tolled for the fallen king.
Grief had not vanished — it never truly did — but it had softened into something quieter, like rain fading into mist.

The Uchiha palace moved again.
Servants laughed softly in the kitchens. Nana returned to scolding the guards for tracking mud through her halls. Naruto resumed his duties as a knight-in-training,.

And Sasuke — though still solemn — was changing.

At nearly 16, he rose with the dawn, no longer out of anger, but of discipline. The weight of his new responsibilities pressed hard against his young shoulders. He attended the war councils, studied economics, trade routes, border laws — words that used to sound dull now felt carved into his skin.
He was not king yet. By decree, he would inherit the throne either by marriage after his eighteenth birthday or upon turning twenty-six. But already, the court bowed differently. Every word he spoke carried consequence.

He had learned to keep his face unreadable, his voice steady. Yet when he passed the gardens, and saw Hinata tending the lilies beneath the morning light, a faint warmth still cracked through that mask.

Hinata noticed, though she never said a word.
She knew his burdens. She had seen the way he clenched his jaw after council meetings, the fatigue that shadowed his eyes. Sometimes she would bring tea, or quietly adjust his cloak before training, pretending not to notice the dark circles that lingered beneath his eyes.

She never pushed.
She just stayed.

---

The clashing of blades echoed through the courtyard one afternoon — the sound crisp and rhythmic. Naruto stood on the sidelines, arms crossed and amused, while Hinata faced Sasuke across the training ground.

He held a wooden sword, his stance calm and centered. Hinata mirrored him — light on her feet, but still unsure of her own strength.

“You’re holding it too tight,” Sasuke said, stepping closer. “You’ll tire faster.”

“I don’t want to drop it,” she replied earnestly.

“You won’t.”
He reached out, placing his hand over hers, adjusting her grip. “There. The sword listens better when you don’t force it.”

Naruto grinned from the bench. “Is that how you talk to your sword or your servants?”

“Shut up, Naruto,” Sasuke muttered without looking away.

Hinata bit her lip to hide a laugh. “You two never change.”

They began again — slow strikes, measured steps. Hinata moved gracefully, her movements fluid, though her strength lacked the sharpness of his. Still, she was learning. Fast.

Sasuke guided her through one of his father’s old maneuvers — a spiraled slash that flowed into a swift deflection. The late king’s signature move who he had now perfected to his own fighting style and make it his own.

“Watch carefully,” Sasuke said, lowering his blade. “It’s not about speed — it’s about rhythm. Let your body move first, then your weapon.”

He demonstrated once — the motion elegant, controlled, powerful. Then he handed her the sword.

“Try.”

Hinata took a deep breath, mimicking his stance.
Her first attempt was clumsy — her balance wavered.
Sasuke stepped behind her, his hands gently correcting her posture.

“Breathe,” he murmured. “Don’t think about getting it right. Feel where it wants to go.”

When she moved again, the strike was clean — almost perfect.

Sasuke smiled faintly, just a flicker. “Better.”

Naruto whistled. “If your father could see you now, he’d be proud — of both of you.”

Sasuke’s expression faltered, but this time, it wasn’t pain that followed. It was quiet understanding.

Hinata lowered the sword, her breath visible in the cool air. “Thank you,” she whispered.

He shook his head. “Don’t thank me. Just promise not to show anyone that move.”

“Why?” she asked.

“Because it’s ours now…and one day we’ll pass it to our future children ” He said the last sentence in a low and teasing tone only she heard.

Her cheeks flushed, but she only nodded.

“Until then, I’ll keep it secret.”

………….

A few days later, the courtyard smelled of herbs instead of steel.

Hinata and Hana sat under the veranda beside the herbal workshop. The air was warm, filled with the scent of crushed mint and mountain sage. Shiro stood over a table, sorting dried plants into neat bundles while explaining the uses of each.

Sasuke had been passing by — or so he claimed — when Hana called out to him.
“Your Highness, come. You may as well learn something useful. A future ruler should know the difference between healing and harm.”

He hesitated at first, but joined them, kneeling beside Hinata as Shiro spoke.

“This,” the old herbalist said, holding up a small blue flower, “is gentian. It soothes pain but turns bitter if overbrewed. Like temper — useful only in balance.”

Hinata smiled softly. “Mother says it’s best mixed with honey.”

“Exactly.” Hana’s tone was warm, fond. “Too much bitterness ruins everything — medicine or life.”

Sasuke watched the two of them — the way they moved in quiet sync, the soft rhythm of their hands. He rarely saw them together like this. There was peace in it — one that reminded him of what his own family used to be.

Hana glanced at him. “You miss your father.”

The words caught him off guard. “How—”

“A mother knows loss when she sees it,” she said gently. “And you carry it the same way he did — quietly.”

For a long moment, Sasuke didn’t speak. Then he inclined his head. “I’m trying to honor him.”

“You are,” Hana said softly. “But don’t forget — he wasn’t just a king. He was a man who laughed, who loved, who believed in second chances. Don’t let duty steal that from you.”

Hinata looked at her mother, her eyes glistening. “You always say that.”

“Because it’s true,” Hana smiled. Then, turning back to Sasuke, she added, “And because you remind me of him.”

The boy blinked, surprised. “Of… my father?”

“No,” Hana said. “Of mine. The same stubbornness. The same way you care, even when you don’t want to.”

For the first time in months, Sasuke laughed — softly, uncertainly, but it was real. Hinata’s heart warmed at the sound.

Shiro looked up from his herbs, his eyes crinkling. “Well, if our prince ever grows tired of the throne, he might make a fine healer.”

Sasuke smirked faintly. “Don’t tell the council that.”

……….

That evening, Queen Mikoto sat alone in the royal chamber.
The moonlight spilled across the floor, touching the edges of an old painting — her and Fugaku, long before the crown had aged them both.
She poured a glass of sake and stared at it for a long while before lifting it slightly in silent toast.
In the quiet, memory came.

She saw herself younger — standing in a sunlit garden with Fugaku, his cloak draped over her shoulders, laughter spilling between them.
She remembered how he would pause during briefings to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, how his voice softened when he said her name.
“You always look at me like I’m not a queen,” she’d teased once.
“That’s because you weren’t born to be one,” he had said with a smile. “You were born to be mine.”

Her lips curved faintly at the memory, then faded as her gaze fell to the garden below.
Through the window, she could see Sasuke walking beneath the lanterns — and beside him, that Hyūga girl.
Mikoto’s fingers tightened around her cup.
She’d warned Fugaku once — quietly, carefully — about letting servants too close to their son. But he had only smiled and said, “Let the boy have someone who reminds him of gentleness.”
Now he was gone, and that gentleness lingered in the shape of a girl Mikoto could not quite bring herself to trust.
She watched Hinata from the distance — graceful, quiet, deferential.
Too quiet, too kind. The sort of girl who slipped through a household like a whisper and yet somehow changed its air.
Mikoto exhaled, slow and sharp.
“She should know her place,” she murmured under her breath.
And yet, the next thought came unbidden, softer: At least he smiles again.
That small truth unsettled her more than anything.
She turned away from the window, setting the untouched sake aside. “You’ve left me with all your softness, Fugaku,” she said quietly. “And now it’s taking root where it shouldn’t.”
The wind rustled the curtains, carrying the faint sound of Hinata’s laughter — delicate, unassuming.
Mikoto closed her eyes, her voice low, almost a vow.
“I will not lose him to kindness.”

……….

Hinata and Sasuke walked side by side beneath the arching trees, their steps in rhythm. The moonlight fell through the leaves, painting silver across her dark hair.

“You’ve been working too hard again,” Hinata said gently. “Even Shiro told me your pulse feels off.”

Sasuke glanced at her, amused. “You’re diagnosing me now?”

“Someone has to,” she replied, a hint of playfulness in her voice. “You haven’t eaten properly in days.”

“I’ve eaten.”

“Tea doesn’t count.”

He smirked. “You sound like my mother.”

Hinata’s cheeks pinkened. “She’s right, though.”

For a moment, they walked in silence, the soft rustle of leaves around them.

“You know,” Hinata said after a while, “Mother says plants grow stronger when they share roots. Maybe people are the same.”

Sasuke looked at her, curious. “What do you mean?”

She smiled shyly. “I mean… you don’t have to hold everything alone.”

He didn’t answer at first. Then, after a pause, he said quietly, “I’m trying not to.”

Her heart skipped. “That’s enough.”

They stopped by the pond — the place that had carried so many of their memories. The water shimmered like glass, reflecting the moon’s soft glow.

Hinata knelt beside it, brushing her fingers against the surface. “Do you think your father can see us from wherever he is?”

Sasuke looked at the water, his reflection rippling beside hers. “I don’t know. But if he can… I think he’d be glad I’m not alone.”

Hinata’s smile faltered — not from sadness, but from the tenderness of it. “You’re not.”

He turned to her, his voice soft. “Neither are you.”

The night air was cool, the scent of jasmine rising once more.
Sasuke reached out, brushing a damp strand of hair from her face — a gesture almost unconscious now.

“Hinata,” he murmured.

She looked up. “Hm?”

“Thank you. For staying.”

Her eyes widened slightly. “Always,” she whispered.

The moonlight caught her face, and for a moment, time itself seemed to hold still. The pain, the past, the weight of duty — it all felt distant.

All that remained was them.
Two souls, no longer children, not yet grown — learning how to live again under the same sky that had once watched them promise always and forever.

Chapter Text

The streets of the town smelled of warm bread and wet stone. Hinata walked briskly, clutching her basket tightly as she navigated through the morning market. She had been sent by Shiro, to fetch supplies, but her mind wandered far from errands.

Everywhere she looked, she saw pieces of life she had never considered before: a father lifting his child onto a bench, a young couple laughing together as the boy offered the girl a small bouquet, a man kneeling on one knee to ask another to be his girlfriend. Her chest tightened at each scene.

Hinata’s fingers trembled slightly as she held a bundle of herbs. She loved Sasuke. She knew she did. But had he ever really asked her to be his? In the back of her mind, a whisper of doubt had begun to grow. They had kissed. They shared moments in the loft no one else knew about. They were more than friends. More than just the prince and a servant.

But had he really committed to her, in the way that mattered?

She sighed, shaking herself. Sasu wouldn’t understand these feelings,she thought.

---

For the next weeks, Hinata’s mood shifted subtly. She was quieter, occasionally distant, and hesitant to approach Sasuke in the usual carefree way. He noticed the changes, of course, but assumed it was her days hence the sudden mood swings she sometimes had.

During sword practice in the courtyard, she made mistakes she normally wouldn’t. Sasuke noticed and furrowed his brow, but only flicked her forehead lightly, teasing, “Focus.”

In private, he occasionally joined her herbal lessons with Shiro, watching her hands as she ground powders and mixed tinctures. Sometimes he offered advice, sometimes he simply stayed close, silently observing. These moments were their own, quiet, filled with unspoken connection.

---

The weeks passed quickly, and soon, it was Hinata’s fifteenth birthday. She woke early, heart pounding with anticipation. This year, she felt certain of what Sasuke would do. After all, she had dropped enough hints, and the loft they shared, the time they spent together, all pointed to it. She expected the gift to come with words she had longed to hear: him asking her to be his girlfriend.

Sasuke approached her that evening with quiet steps, the air warm and still, scented faintly with pine and late-blooming flowers. Hinata stood under the lanterns, her back to him, the light catching in the soft curve of her neck.
He didn’t call her name.
Instead, he slipped behind her in one smooth motion, arms wrapping gently but confidently around her waist from behind. She startled only for a second — then relaxed, leaning back into the familiar feel of him.
“You’re late,” she whispered, a playful note in her voice.
“I was getting something,” he murmured near her ear, his voice low and warm. “And I wanted to wait until everyone else left. I wanted it to be just us.” He added, while leaving a swift kiss on her lower neck.

Hinata turned her head slightly, just enough to catch his eyes over her shoulder. “You didn’t have to get me anything.”
“I know,” Sasuke said. “But I wanted to.”

His hand moved from her waist to slip something from his pocket — a small, dark wooden box, worn smooth at the edges. He brought it in front of her with one hand while the other stayed settled at her side.
“Happy birthday,” he said, quieter now. But there was something different in his voice — more open, more deliberate. Like he wasn’t just saying it because he had to.
She took the box, curious, her fingers brushing against his without hesitation. When she opened it, her breath caught.
Inside was a small sword-shaped charm — elegant, precise, and clearly made with care. The blade was engraved with something she couldn't quite read in the low light, but it shimmered, polished to a mirror sheen.

“It’s… beautiful,” she whispered, fingers tracing the shape. “Is this…?”
“For you,” he said

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“Keep it with you. Always.”

Her heart ached. She had expected more — words, a confession, a title. Instead, it was beautiful, symbolic, meaningful, yet not enough.

“Thank you,” she said again, but her voice was quieter than she intended.

Sasuke’s head tilted slightly, eyes narrowing with the kind of quiet perception he rarely revealed. “Is something wrong?” he asked, taking a single step toward her.

Hinata didn’t answer.

She kept her eyes fixed on a spot just past his shoulder — anywhere but his face. A thousand thoughts warred behind her calm expression, but none made it to her lips. She felt foolish for hoping, foolish for waiting. For thinking that maybe tonight, he would give her something more than gestures and silence.

Something that sounded like certainty.

When the quiet stretched too long, it cracked her resolve.

“I… I don’t know what we are,” she whispered, and her voice was barely hers. “You’ve never said it. Never asked me. And I keep wondering if I’m just… assuming something that isn’t real.”

Sasuke didn’t speak. His breath caught, and the stillness in him was louder than any words.

“I’ve been waiting for you to say it,” she continued, more firmly now. “Not because I need the label. Not for some romantic moment. But because… I need to know I’m not imagining this.”

Sasuke’s face remained unreadable. But his fingers twitched at his side, as though reaching for something invisible.

“I thought you already knew,” he said finally, his voice rough — almost hollow. “That you were the only one. That it didn’t need to be said.”

“But that’s the problem, Sasuke,” Hinata murmured. “I understand that what we have has to be kept secret because of who we are but It does. I need to hear it from you. Not just feel it in the quiet moments.”

Silence returned, thick and suffocating.

Then Sasuke stepped forward — just close enough that the air shifted between them. His voice was low, almost uncertain, as if the words felt too fragile on his tongue.

His eyes met hers, and something unguarded passed between them.
Sasuke’s jaw tightened, a mix of confusion and frustration building inside him. “Hinata… I’ve never thought I needed to ask. I thought… I thought you already understood that you’re mine, and I’m yours.”
Her breath caught.

Her lip trembled. “I know! But I needed to hear it. I needed you to say it. Today, on my birthday… I thought you would!”

“I’m sorry I never said it,” he continued. “You’ve always been my someone... can you… I mean do you want to officially be my girlfriend?”

She stared at him, her heart aching — from relief, from love, from the sheer weight of wanting this for so long. And finally, she smiled. A small, teary thing that carried every unsaid emotion in return.

“You’re lucky I’m patient,” she whispered.

He reached for her hand, and this time, she didn’t hesitate.

Sasuke’s hands, which had been still at his sides, reached for hers. He took them gently, holding them as if they were fragile treasures. His voice softened, steady and sure.

His lips curved into a faint smile, and he leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead, a quiet seal of their bond.

Not very satisfied she reached up, to his cheeks and pulled him down to her lips. The kiss they share now was everything the forehead kiss wasn’t: raw, real, and full of all the love that had been waiting for this exact moment. His hands found her waist. Hers stayed on his face, like she never wanted to let go

“And you… are mine?” he asked softly, teasing despite the intensity in his gaze.

Hinata giggled, wiping a tear from her cheek. “Yes. I’m yours.”

For a moment, the world shrank to only the two of them. The market sounds, the distant chatter of the palace, even the looming responsibilities and threats of the outside world faded. It was just Sasuke, Hinata, and the quiet, unshakable truth of their hearts.

Sasuke lifted the sword charm again, sliding it onto a small cord and tying it around her wrist. “Then this is yours. A symbol of us. Of what we are.”

Hinata’s fingers brushed the charm, warmth spreading through her chest. “It’s perfect.”

“And now,” Sasuke said, letting go of her hands, “no more doubts. No more fears. Always and forever, Hinata.”

She pressed her forehead to his, closing her eyes, letting the words settle deep in her heart. “Always and forever,” she echoed.

The night sky stretched above them, stars twinkling faintly through the fading light. For the first time in a long while, the world felt certain again — not because life had become easier, but because in that moment, they had found each other fully, without hesitation or fear.

Chapter Text

It had been some months since Hinata’s dramatic yet unforgettable fifteenth birthday.

The sun had barely risen over the palace gardens, painting the courtyard in soft golds and greens. She moved gracefully among the tables set for the Queen’s midday luncheon, her hands steady as she arranged dishes and cups, her lavender dress fluttering slightly in the morning breeze. Today, she served not only the Queen but also Sasuke and a few other attendants who had gathered quietly for the meal.

As she approached Sasuke with a plate of rice and grilled fish, he sat perfectly composed, his dark eyes following her movements.

“You’re getting too close,” Sasuke murmured with a mischievous glint, reaching out suddenly to flick her leg with his foot.

Hinata squealed, hopping back slightly, though the faintest curve of a smile betrayed her amusement. “Prince!” she whispered, though her cheeks were already pink.

“You’re too easy to tease,” he said, smirking faintly, returning to his posture of perfect composure.

The day passed in this rhythm: small moments of closeness, playful teasing, and quiet glances that no one else noticed. Later, Sasuke insisted on going for a walk around the town. Despite his princely duties, he had grown curious about his people, and it gave him an excuse to possibly see Hinata.

As they passed the central square, laughter and music drifted to them. A group of children danced around the fountain, their movements light and carefree. Among them, Hinata twirled, her dress catching the sunlight as her laughter mingled with the music. Sasuke froze, mesmerized.

Her eyes met his from across the square, and for a brief moment, time seemed to slow. She waved, and he smiled softly, moving toward her.

“You’re always so… alive,” he said quietly as he reached her, keeping his voice low.

Hinata blinked, slightly flustered. “I—I just enjoy it.”

Sasuke’s gaze lingered, his mind racing. Love had become something he could no longer deny, though the walls of the palace and the expectations of his title pressed upon him. He knew that, as a prince, any attachment to a servant—even one as extraordinary as Hinata—was complicated, dangerous even. But in this moment, all he could feel was the pull of her laughter, the brightness of her presence.
…………
A few days later

The weapon room was dim, lit by a few oil lamps along the walls. Centuries-old blades lined the racks, gleaming under the flickering light. It was late — too late for training — but Sasuke wasn’t there to train.

Naruto was already inside, tossing a dagger from one hand to the other as he leaned against the far wall.

"You’ve been quiet lately," Naruto said without looking up. "More than usual."

Sasuke walked in slowly, eyes scanning the swords mounted above the central display. The weapons were polished, honored, untouched — just like the rules that governed his life.

“I can’t ignore this anymore.”

Naruto caught the dagger mid-air and set it down. “Hinata?”

Sasuke nodded once. “It’s always been her. I’ve known it for a long time.”

"And what’s the problem? Are you having doubts?"

Sasuke turned away from the weapons, facing him fully. “It’s not doubt. It’s everything else. My title. Her status. My mother already sees Princess Ino as my future wife. The council expects it. The bloodlines demand it.”

"Yeah, well, love doesn’t care about bloodlines," Naruto said.

"I know, but they expect me to care," Sasuke snapped, more harshly than intended. "To respect customs. To carry on the Uchiha legacy without scandal."

"And what legacy is that, exactly?" Naruto’s tone sharpened. "Power without freedom? Duty without choice?"

Sasuke looked down at the stone floor.

"She’s afraid," he said. "She doesn’t say it out loud, but I can feel it. She sometimes wonders if she’ll always have to live behind locked doors just to love me."

"And what do you want?"

“I want to give her more than this and I will ,” Sasuke said. “I will make her feel safe. Seen. Chosen.”

Naruto stepped closer, more serious now.

“If that is what you want then stop thinking of what the others say and start thinking like a king. If you’re going to rule, rule for something you actually believe in. Change the law. Break the system that says she’s not enough.”

Sasuke looked at the family crest hanging above the weapons — Uchiha steel, carved in history and silence.

“I will,” he said. “When I become king, I’ll rewrite the laws. I’ll end the barrier between royalty and service. I don’t want to pretend she’s less than me just because she wasn’t born into the right name.”

“You’re going to piss off a lot of people.”

“I don’t care. I’m done hiding. So is she.”

Naruto studied him for a long moment, then nodded once.

“Good,” he said. “Because you’ve been in love for years. I wouldn’t have expected any less from you .”

---

A few days later, the woods were alive with another kind of laughter. Hinata and Ten Ten had been plotting a small prank on a worker from the servant squad, one who often tried to discipline them unnecessarily.

“Ready?” Hinata whispered, crouched behind a low bush.

Ten Ten nodded, grinning. “Let’s make him regret it.”

With a shared glance, they darted forward, startling the worker and sending him into a chase through the trees. Their laughter echoed, light and carefree, until they almost collided with Sasuke and Naruto, who had been leaning against a tree, observing the forest silently.

Hinata froze, eyes widening. Ten Ten stepped back, cheeks red as she realized they’d been seen.

“Ah—sorry! We… we were just—” Hinata stammered, trying to regain composure.

Sasuke’s dark eyes glittered with amusement. “You two are impossible.”

Hinata’s quick thinking saved the moment. “Ten Ten, run to the river and fetch the laundry supplies,” she whispered urgently. “I’ll… take care of this.”

As Ten Ten scurried off, Hinata took a deep breath, seizing the opportunity to be near Sasuke. The air between them was thick with tension, anticipation, and unspoken words. She leaned forward, pressing the lower part of his nose against hers, nearly touching his lips.

Sasuke’s breath hitched, his hand instinctively finding hers.

Naruto, ever the observer, couldn’t resist. “Oi! What’s going on over there?” he teased, his arms dropping around her in mock defense, though his grin betrayed his amusement.

Hinata giggled, hiding her flushed face in Sasuke’s crook . Sasuke’s expression softened, a rare warmth breaking through his usual stoicism.

“You’re too bold,” he murmured, flicking her forehead gently.

“And you’re too easy,” she replied, eyes sparkling.

For a few moments, the world narrowed to them: a prince and a servant, a secret they carried with delicate care. Then Hinata’s task called her back to reality. She smiled softly, brushing past him to attend to the chores while his eyes followed her, filled with longing and quiet promise.

---

Later that evening, Hinata found herself in the warmth of her mother in the kitchen. The two worked together, hands busy chopping herbs, grinding powders, and preparing remedies for the palace.

“You’re distracted today,” Hana observed, brushing a strand of hair from Hinata’s face.

Hinata bit her lip, glancing toward the window where the last light of the sun fell across the gardens. “It’s… nothing.”

Hana studied her daughter quietly. “You’re growing, Hinata. There are things you don’t need to speak aloud to know they matter. Just… be careful who sees your heart.”

Hinata nodded, feeling the weight of her mother’s words. She knew what Hana meant, yet the pull toward Sasuke was stronger than any caution.

For a long while, they worked in companionable silence, the clinking of utensils and the rustle of leaves outside the only sounds. It was a simple, perfect moment—one of many they had shared since the palace had become home.

---

A few weeks passed, and the palace was abuzz with whispers and duties. Still, Hinata’s days were punctuated by quiet moments: sword lessons with Sasuke in hidden courtyards, gentle teasing over meals, and the small joys of friendship and love that had grown so naturally it was almost invisible to the world.

During their private lessons, Sasuke made sure Hinata polished her ability and perfected his signature sword move, guiding her hands and stance. Her determination impressed him, and he smiled faintly each time she mastered a new technique.

“You’ve got the focus of a Hyuga warrior,” he said quietly.

Hinata’s cheeks warmed. “And you’ve got the patience of a prince,” she teased back.

Even in these moments of laughter and light, the shadow of duty and expectation loomed over Sasuke. He spoke to Naruto in quiet, serious tones about the complexities of their feelings, the impossibility of their station, and the dreams he held for a world where such love might be allowed.

Naruto, ever the voice of levity, could only nod, teasing him at intervals, but listening all the same.

---

As the weeks blended into months, Hinata’s life settled into a rhythm of quiet happiness: mornings with Hana, afternoons with Sasuke in training or study, and the small, stolen moments that belonged to them alone. Even the looming challenges of the world—titles, laws, and the whispers of a prince’s mother—couldn’t completely intrude on their peace.

It was during one of these simple, golden afternoons that Sasuke paused mid-stride, watching Hinata from across the garden. She danced lightly while Nana peacefully sat nearby picking up unwanted seeds from the freshly harvested rice, laughter ringing clear as she twirled beneath the sunlight. Sasuke’s heart tightened, a mixture of longing, pride, and the realization that he could never let such moments slip away.

He walked to her slowly, hands tucked behind his back, and she turned at the sound of his approach. Their eyes met, and the unspoken bond between them spoke louder than any words could.

“You’re happy,” he murmured.

“I am,” she said softly, smiling. “With you here.”

Sasuke’s chest tightened at the simplicity and truth of her words. He didn’t need to speak of duty, station, or law in that moment. All that mattered was that she was there, laughing, alive, and near him.

The sun dipped lower, casting long shadows over the gardens. Hinata and Sasuke stood together, side by side, hands brushing, foreheads touching in quiet solidarity. The world might demand titles, rules, and roles from them, but in this fleeting golden hour, they were simply themselves.

And for them, that was enough.

Chapter Text

A year later

It was early spring when the gardens began to bloom again.

The palace had shed its winter hush, and with it came a fragile sense of normalcy — laughter in the kitchens, children chasing each other in the courtyards, servants hanging linens out in the sunlight.

Sasuke had grown used to this rhythm — the soft hum of daily life that no longer felt foreign to him.

He’d learned to take comfort in small things: the scent of fresh bread, the echo of Naruto’s laughter down the hall, the sight of Hinata at the edge of the training grounds, waiting with a towel and a quiet smile.

If grief had once made him silent, peace now made him thoughtful.

One afternoon, he found her sitting under the old willow by the pond, weaving tiny flowers into a chain.
He approached without a sound, watching her fingers move with careful patience.
“What are you doing?” he asked.

She jumped slightly. “You scared me,” she whispered, but there was laughter in her tone.

He sat beside her, watching as she continued the braid. “You’ve been quiet lately.”

Hinata hesitated. “Everyone has been busy. The queen, the council… even you.”

Sasuke tilted his head. “And your mother?”
“She’s well,” Hinata said quickly. “Just tired, I think.”

He noticed the way her eyes dropped when she said it — the same small, subtle pause he’d learned to recognize when she was hiding something.
But he didn’t press. Not yet.

Instead, he reached over, plucked one of the flowers from her chain, and tucked it gently behind her ear.
Hinata froze, cheeks blooming pink, and he smirked. “Still fits,” he murmured.

“Sasu,” she whispered, half-scolding, half-shy.

He leaned back on his palms. “You make everything look softer,” he said simply.

And though he meant it as a tease, she looked away, smiling in spite of herself.

……….

That evening, Shiro visited the servants’ quarters, in specific Hana’s one who by courtesy of the king had been given a private one for her to share with her daughter Hinata.
He carried his satchel quietly, as always, but his expression was unusually grave.

Hana was waiting for him, seated by the window, a shawl around her shoulders.
She smiled when she saw him — tired, kind, and just a little resigned.

“You shouldn’t still be working, Hana,” he said as he checked her pulse.

“Work keeps me steady,” she replied, her voice gentle. “If I stop, I’ll start thinking.”

Shiro didn’t argue. He simply listened to her heartbeat, slow and uneven beneath his fingers.

“It’s worsening,” he said finally, voice low.

“I know.”

He looked up at her — startled by her calm.
Hana smiled faintly. “I can feel it. It’s not pain yet… not really. But it’s there.”

“You should rest. Tell your daughter—”

“No.” Her tone was soft, but firm. “Not yet. She’s still a child. She’s happy now. Let her keep that a little longer.”

Shiro hesitated, then nodded slowly. “I’ll monitor you closely. But promise me one thing, Hana — when it starts to hurt, you tell me. Don’t hide it.”

Her smile lingered. “You know I will.”

But they both knew she wouldn’t.

………

The following weeks passed like a gentle dream.
Sasuke and Hinata spent their evenings walking the outer gardens — never far from where they first made their promises.
Sometimes they spoke of trivial things: the taste of the bread in the kitchens, Naruto’s clumsy sword form, or the new falcon the queen had received as a gift from the Northern Empire.

But sometimes, when the sun began to sink behind the hills, their conversations grew quieter, heavier.

“What do you think happens when we die?” Hinata asked once.

Sasuke blinked, taken aback. “Why are you asking that?”

“I don’t know,” she said softly. “I just… think about it sometimes.”

He frowned. “You shouldn’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because we’re still here,” he said simply.

Then, after a pause: “And if something were to happen to me… I’d want to believe I could still find you.”

Her heart ached at that — not from fear, but from the strange tenderness in his voice.

“You’d find me,” she whispered. “Always.”

From afar, Shiro watched them sometimes when they came to fetch herbs or pass the garden.
He said nothing, though he knew time was thinning around them — a string slowly fraying.

He only hoped that when the truth came to light, it would not break them both.

……………..

The morning of the spring festival was alive with color.

From the palace windows, the entire village below glimmered under strings of red and gold lanterns, fluttering silk banners, and stalls filled with laughter.

It was the one day of the year when commoners and nobles celebrated together — a gift from the royal family to the people, honoring peace and the beginning of planting season.

In the servants’ quarters, Hinata hummed softly as she brushed her mother’s hair. Hana’s long dark locks, streaked faintly with silver, gleamed in the light that poured through their small window.

“You’re in high spirits today,” Hana said with a smile.
Hinata giggled, tucking a strand behind her ear. “It’s the festival, Mama. Everyone’s going. The lanterns, the songs, the food…”

“And the prince?” Hana teased gently, her knowing smile soft but not unkind.

Hinata’s cheeks flushed instantly. “I–I didn’t mean—”
Hana laughed quietly. “I didn’t say anything, child.”

Hinata’s fingers fidgeted with the comb. “He’ll be too busy, anyway. He always is. It’s not like he could come with me.”

Her mother’s eyes softened. “And yet you still wish he could.”
Hinata fell silent. She didn’t deny iut.

…………

Later that afternoon, in the palace courtyard, Hinata met Sasuke and Naruto as they prepared for the day’s ceremony.
Naruto was already halfway into a meat pie, grinning from ear to ear.
“I heard there’ll be fireworks this year,” he said through a mouthful. “Big ones — from the western traders”.
Hinata’s eyes lit up. “Really? Oh, I wish I could see them up close!”
“You will,” Naruto said. “We’ll all go to the village square later.”

Sasuke glanced up sharply. “We?”

“Well, yeah,” Naruto said, elbowing him playfully. “Don’t tell me the Crown Prince of the Uchiha Empire is too proud to join a little village fun?”

Sasuke frowned, but there was a flicker of curiosity in his eyes. “You know I can’t. My mother would—”
Hinata interrupted softly, “It would be nice if you could come.”

The words slipped out before she could stop them. For a heartbeat, no one spoke.
Her face went pink, and she tried to look away. Naruto’s grin widened knowingly.
Sasuke’s expression, however, softened — just slightly. He didn’t say anything, but the way his gaze lingered on her spoke louder than words.

………..

By evening, the festival had begun.
Music filled the air — flutes and drums and laughter. Lanterns floated over the river like little suns, their reflections rippling in gold.
Hinata moved among the stalls with her mother, helping carry food baskets and joining the games.
She wore a simple lavender yukata embroidered with white flowers — modest, but it made her glow beneath the lantern light.

Sasuke stood on the raised balcony of the palace with his mother and council, fulfilling his duties as heir. From where he stood, he could see everything — the joy, the music… and her.

He didn’t mean to stare. But his eyes found her in every crowd.
And then, he saw it — a young villager, no older than himself, handing Hinata a small flower, bright yellow against her pale hands.
Hinata laughed — a small, polite sound — but she didn’t push it away quickly enough.

Sasuke’s jaw tightened. His hand twitched by his side, the tiniest movement betraying the wave of irritation that surged inside him.
Naruto, standing beside him, noticed instantly. “Jealous, are we?”
Sasuke shot him a glare sharp enough to cut steel. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
Naruto smirked. “Right. You’re just clenching your fist because of… royal duty.”
“Shut up, Naruto.”

When the ceremony ended, Naruto leaned toward him and whispered, “You’re hopeless. Come on — I’ve got a plan.”

Minutes later, Hinata, having left her mother to rest on a bench, was called by Naruto to “help carry something” near the floral grove on the palace’s edge — the same place where so many of her quiet memories lived.

She hurried through the torch-lit path, expecting to see both boys, but instead found only Sasuke, waiting under the old willow.

Her breath caught. “Sasu?”

He turned, his royal robe exchanged for simple black clothes — a version of him the court never saw.

“Where’s Naruto?” she asked softly.
“He was… detained,” Sasuke said flatly, though his faint smirk betrayed him.
Hinata exhaled a nervous laugh. “You two…”
But the smile faded when she saw the seriousness in his eyes.

He stepped closer, close enough that the lantern light flickered between them. “You looked happy down there.”

“I—of course. Everyone’s happy at the festival.”
“And the flower?” His voice was calm, but there was a quiet storm underneath.
Her eyes widened. “You saw?”
“I see everything,” he said simply. “Including the way he looked at you.”
“Sasuke…” she began, a little helplessly. “He was just being kind.”
“Kind,” Sasuke repeated, almost scoffing. Then softer, as if realizing the weight of his words, “You don’t understand what it’s like — watching you smile at someone else like that.”

Hinata’s lips parted, but no words came out.
He took another step closer, his voice lowering. “I know I have no right to feel that way. I can’t go with you. I can’t even be seen near you half the time. But…”
He hesitated, then exhaled.
“But it doesn’t change how I feel when I see you with someone else. It doesn’t change what you are to me.”

Hinata’s heart pounded so loud she thought he might hear it. “Sasu…”

He reached out, his fingers brushing her wrist, tentative but certain. “Whatever name they give me — prince, heir, soldier — none of it matters when it comes to you.”

Her breath trembled. “But people will see…”

“They won’t,” he murmured. “Not tonight.”

And for a brief moment, the world outside the grove — the palace, the war, the expectations — disappeared.
Hinata leaned forward, forehead to forehead, her nose brushing his.
His hand lingered against her cheek, steadying her as though she were the only truth he knew.

Their lips met for a moment. It was brief, yet sweet and warm.

Under the lanterns, the same promise that once bloomed by the pond lived again — unspoken but eternal.

Chapter Text

Some weeks later, the glow of the festival still clung faintly to the palace halls — the smell of incense, the wilted flowers, the faint hum of distant laughter now gone.

But in the servants’ quarters, Hinata awoke with a heaviness that she couldn’t name.
Her mother’s cough had worsened overnight.
At first it was small — dry and almost dismissible. But this morning, Hana pressed a cloth to her lips and drew it away stained with red.

“Mother…” Hinata whispered, panic trembling at the edge of her voice.
“It’s nothing, child,” Hana murmured, folding the cloth quickly. “The cold air from last night, that’s all.”

But Hinata knew. The moment her eyes met her mother’s, she knew.
Hana smiled as if to soothe her, but her face looked pale — too pale — and her breathing came shallow.
Hinata sat with her, holding her hand long after the tea on the table had gone cold.

…

That afternoon, the palace stirred with unexpected visitors.
Whispers swept through the corridors like wind through reeds: Princess Ino Yamanaka, daughter of the Eastern Empire, had arrived unannounced to pay a visit to Queen Mikoto.

Hinata heard the name before she saw the face, and even without meaning to, her stomach twisted.
The Yamanaka princess had visited often throughout the years, all smiles and sharp words hidden behind perfumed grace. She was beautiful — everyone said so — and clever, and entirely aware of it.

Sasuke hadn’t been in the main court when she arrived, but Hinata saw the way the Queen’s attendants brightened, whispering of “alliances” and “the perfect match.”
When Hinata brought tea to the Queen’s study, she saw Ino there — tall, golden-haired, her gown of blue silk shimmering as she laughed softly at something the Queen said.

Her gaze flicked briefly toward Hinata — a polite, assessing glance that lingered just long enough to sting.

Later that evening, Sasuke returned from the outer training fields, still in his black practice attire, his mood somber.
He hadn’t seen Hinata all day, though he’d searched quietly — always careful not to draw attention.

He found her near the servant’s garden, tending to the herbs Shiro had requested for Hana.

“Hinata,” he said softly.
She looked up, startled — her eyes shadowed from sleeplessness. “Sasu.”
He took a step closer, his gaze falling to her trembling hands. “What happened?”
“It’s my mother,” she said quietly. “She’s been coughing since last night. Shiro thinks it may be her lungs.”
Sasuke’s chest tightened. “I’ll speak to him myself.”

“You can’t,” she said quickly. “He’s already doing everything he can. And if the Queen finds out you’ve been visiting the lower quarters again…”

He ignored her warning, reaching out to steady her shoulders. “You shouldn’t bear this alone.”

She swallowed hard, the tears threatening to fall. “I don’t have a choice.”
For a moment, silence stretched between them — the kind that carried both comfort and sorrow.

And then the sound of laughter cut through the stillness — clear, high, and familiar.

Sasuke’s expression hardened.
Princess Ino stepped into view, her golden hair catching the last of the sunlight. “Oh, Your Highness,” she said sweetly. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. The Queen asked that I join you for supper.”

Her eyes flicked toward Hinata — a deliberate glance that slid over her like silk hiding a blade.

Hinata bowed quickly, her voice barely above a whisper. “Your Highness.”

“Ah, the servant girl,” Ino said, feigning surprise. “Still following our prince around, I see.”

“Ino,” Sasuke said curtly, his tone carrying an edge that made her blink. “That’s enough.”

Her smile didn’t falter, but her voice softened into something almost playful. “Of course. I only meant that loyalty is… admirable.”

Hinata lowered her gaze, her throat tight. “I should go,” she said softly. “My mother needs me.”

When she turned, Sasuke moved as if to stop her — but the Queen’s voice echoed down the corridor, summoning him.
He hesitated, torn between duty and instinct. Hinata didn’t look back.

…

That night, the Queen’s supper was a tapestry of silks and silver — and Sasuke barely touched his food.
Princess Ino’s conversation fluttered around him like perfume — pleasant, practiced, utterly hollow.

Every polite laugh from her only deepened his silence.
Because all he could think of was the look in Hinata’s eyes before she turned away — the quiet hurt, the exhaustion, the unspoken distance growing between them.

He excused himself early.
When he slipped out into the night, the lanterns had burned low. He went straight to Shiro’s quarters.

The herbalist met his gaze with weary kindness. “She’s resting,” Shiro said. “The fever’s come and gone twice. It’s her lungs — there’s infection. I can ease her pain, but…”

Sasuke didn’t let him finish. His fists clenched at his sides, helplessness burning in his chest.
“I’ll stay nearby,” he said quietly. “If anything changes…”
Shiro nodded, eyes soft. “I’ll send word.”

Outside, Sasuke leaned against the stone wall, his breath unsteady.
Above him, the moon hung low and pale — the same pale glow that had lit the pond years ago, the grove, the secret promises whispered in the dark.

He pressed a hand to his chest, feeling the faint shape of the necklace beneath his shirt — the one Hinata had made him long ago.
Whatever tomorrow brought — war, duty, loss — he knew one thing with painful certainty:
He couldn’t lose her, too.

Chapter Text

The following days bled into one another, time measured not by sunlight or the toll of bells, but by the rhythm of shallow breaths behind a thin door.

Hana’s illness worsened quickly.
The fever came in waves, and Shiro never left her side. The scent of crushed herbs and boiled roots clung to the air like smoke. Hinata slept beside her mother on the floor most nights, her hand gripping the edge of the bed as if afraid that letting go would mean losing her completely.

Sasuke came often — quietly, at hours when the guards changed or when the Queen was occupied in council.
He never entered her mother’s room, not until the fever grew unbearable. He stood in the doorway instead, watching Hinata’s small figure bent over the basin, wringing a damp cloth again and again.
She didn’t notice him at first. The lamplight caught the tremor in her hands.

“Hinata,” he said softly.
Her head lifted, her eyes red from sleeplessness. “She’s getting worse Sasu. The medicine doesn’t help anymore.”
Sasuke stepped closer, his throat tight. “Shiro said—”
“I know what he said,” she interrupted, her voice cracking. “He said there’s nothing else to be done.”

In an instant, Sasuke was at her side, kneeling before her. He didn’t offer comfort in words or empty promises. He simply reached for her hand—small, cold, and shaking—and held it tightly.

That single gesture undid her. She leaned forward, burying her face against him as tears poured freely, each one carrying the weight of everything she’d tried to hold back. Sasuke wrapped his arms around her, silent and steady, even as something inside him cracked open too.

For the first time since his father’s death, he allowed himself to feel it all—the helplessness, the grief, the ache of being unable to make things right.

…

Three nights later, Hana stopped breathing.
It was just before dawn. The storm outside had faded, leaving behind the stillness that comes after rain — heavy, clean, merciless.
Hinata sat beside her mother’s bed, her eyes wide and unfocused. The world seemed to have gone soundless. The candle beside the bed flickered once, twice, then went out.

When Shiro found her like that, she didn’t cry.
She simply whispered, “She looks peaceful,” and smoothed her mother’s hair one last time.

Sasuke didn’t hear the news until midmorning.
He was in the training yard when Naruto came running, his usual grin gone.
“She’s gone,” Naruto said quietly.
Sasuke froze. For a long time, he didn’t move. Then, without a word, he dropped the wooden sword from his hand and left the courtyard.

He found her in the garden — the same garden that had once been their refuge.
Hinata was kneeling by the pond, her mother’s silver comb in her hands, staring at the still water. Her face was pale, her eyes hollow from hours of silent grief.

“Hinata,” he said gently.
She didn’t look up. “I thought I was ready. I thought… after your father, after everything, I could be strong.”
Sasuke stepped closer, the pain in her voice cutting through him.
“You are strong.”

Her grip on the comb tightened until her knuckles turned white. “Then why does it hurt like this? Why does it feel like the world stopped moving?”
He knelt beside her, unsure if he had the right to touch her, but she leaned into him first — her head against his shoulder, her tears soaking through his shirt.
For a long while, neither spoke. The wind stirred the water, and the first light of morning brushed across the surface like glass.

Finally, Hinata whispered, “What happens now?”
Sasuke’s hand brushed her hair back, his fingers trembling slightly. “You keep breathing. You keep going. For her.”
She looked up at him, eyes glistening. “Like you did?”
He hesitated. The memory of his father’s empty throne room, of his mother’s quiet resilience, pressed heavy on his chest.
“I’m still learning how,” he admitted softly.
Hinata exhaled shakily, her forehead lowering to his again — the way it always did when words failed them both.

“You still have your mother,” she murmured.
“And you still have me,” he said.

…

For the rest of that day, Sasuke didn’t leave her side.
He helped Shiro arrange the simple rites permitted to servants — no grand ceremony, just quiet prayers beneath the plum trees Hana had loved.
The Queen watched from a distance, her expression unreadable. When Sasuke knelt beside Hinata at the grave, the faintest trace of worry crossed Mikoto’s face, quickly hidden behind royal composure.
That night, after the burial, Hinata sat in silence by her mother’s resting place, the bracelet on her wrist catching the moonlight.

Sasuke came once more, but didn’t speak. He just placed a single white camellia — her mother’s favorite flower — beside the stone.
When she finally met his gaze, her voice broke into a whisper.
“Thank you… for staying.”
Sasuke’s reply was barely a breath. “Always.”

That night marked the end of their childhood.
From then on, Hinata moved like someone learning to live in the echo of a loss that would never fade, while Sasuke matured and more deliberate — his presence more certain.
Their love no longer lived in secret smiles or fleeting touches, but in the simple act of staying — through grief, silence, and the heavy quiet of everything they had already lost too soon.

Chapter Text

6 years later

The palace was alive with movement, banners fluttering in the spring breeze, the scent of freshly polished stone mingling with flowers planted for the week-long celebration.

Hinata moved quietly through the corridors of the infirmary, carrying a tray of herbs and ointments. Even amid the anticipation of the festival, her hands worked with steady precision, the way she had learned over the years, and her mind buzzed lightly with excitement.

“This week will be wonderful,” she whispered to herself, arranging bundles of lavender and chamomile. “So many colors, so many smells… I just hope everything goes smoothly.”

A familiar shadow fell across the wooden floor, and she looked up to see Sasuke standing in the doorway, arms crossed, the corners of his mouth just barely curved in a smirk.

“You’re too early,” she said softly, though the warmth in her chest betrayed her calm words.
“I like the quiet,” Sasuke replied, stepping inside, “before the palace fills with people who will complain about every little thing.”
Hinata rolled her eyes, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Still thinking like a child, I see.”

“Still thinking about the same things,” he countered, kneeling slightly to help her straighten a bundle of herbs. Their hands brushed, brief but electric, and for a moment the air between them was heavy with everything they had shared over the past six years.

For the first time in weeks, Hinata felt that stillness that only came when Sasuke was near — the quiet where words weren’t needed, and presence alone could comfort. But a thought nagged at her, unspoken, and she found herself asking gently, “Are you… ready for the festival?”

Sasuke froze, just slightly, but said nothing.

………..

By midday, the palace halls had begun to buzz with announcements. Servants scurried, guards adjusted their posts, and in the grand courtyard, the trumpets announced the arrival of their distinguished guest. Hinata paused in her work, stepping to the window, and her heart clenched at the sight of Princess Ino descending from her carriage. She moved with the elegance of someone born into privilege, her golden hair pinned perfectly, her robes shimmering in the sunlight.

Sasuke’s expression, visible from the infirmary balcony, was unreadable. He strode forward to greet her formally, and Hinata, watching from a distance, forced herself to remain calm.

Ino’s gaze swept the courtyard, and when it lingered briefly on Hinata, the princess smiled — polite, practiced, but sharp. Hinata’s pulse quickened. She had learned over the years how to remain composed, yet the subtle tension between them was unmistakable.

Later, as preparations for the evening banquet carried on, Ino approached Hinata under the guise of curiosity.

“You handle yourself well,” Ino said smoothly, her eyes scanning Hinata’s simple yet careful attire. “The prince is fortunate to have someone so… devoted.”
Hinata bowed her head, careful not to betray the sting of jealousy that rose like a tide in her chest. “I only do what is expected of me, Your Highness,” she said quietly.
Ino’s smile sharpened just slightly. “Of course. Devotion can be a rare quality… especially in those who serve rather than rule.”

Hinata’s composure never wavered, though she felt the burn of frustration. The subtle reminders of her station were relentless, and she knew that even the smallest misstep could draw scrutiny.

That evening, the palace gardens were lit with lanterns, their reflections trembling in the water of the pond. Sasuke found Hinata leaning against a marble balustrade, her fingers brushing over the intricate patterns carved in the stone.

“Why didn’t you tell me Ino was coming?” she asked quietly, without turning to face him. Her voice was calm but carried a hint of hurt.
“I didn’t want to worry you,” Sasuke said, stepping close. “It’s only a week. You have your duties here; I have mine.”
“Don’t protect me from what I can handle,” Hinata said softly, finally turning. Her eyes met his, steady and clear. “I’m not a child anymore, Sasu. I can face her. But you hiding things from me… it hurts.”

Sasuke exhaled slowly, running a hand down his face. “I thought I was protecting you from unnecessary tension,” he admitted. “I didn’t realize it would make you feel excluded.”
Hinata took a step closer, her hands brushing against the folds of his tunic. “Sasu… I’ve always known where I stand, and I’ve always known where you stand. You don’t need to protect me from her. You need to trust me.”

For a long moment, the world seemed to shrink to the space between them. The lanterns’ glow bathed their features in gold, and the garden — the same secret space that had once been theirs as children — felt like a sanctuary again.

Sasuke reached out, lightly brushing a strand of hair from her face. “You’ve grown stronger than I could have imagined,” he said quietly. “But you’ve also become more… unyielding.”
“And you’ve become more careful,” Hinata replied, her voice soft, almost teasing. “But I can still see the boy beneath the crown.”

Sasuke allowed himself the smallest of smiles. “And I can still see the girl who stole my patience and refused to give it back.”
They shared a quiet laugh, the tension easing, though the undercurrent of jealousy from Ino still lingered like a shadow in the palace.

…………

As the week unfolded, Ino’s presence became a constant test of composure. She spoke easily to Sasuke, her attention deliberate, her smile too knowing. Hinata learned to navigate each encounter with patience — a nod here, a polite smile there — while Sasuke maintained his balance, subtle in his actions but always aware of her presence.

There were moments of quiet intimacy between the two — a shared cup of tea in the infirmary at dawn, a brief touch in passing, a hand lingering just enough on her wrist to remind her that she was not alone. Their love was no longer a secret only in the eyes of the world — it was a shared language, a rhythm they understood perfectly.

During one evening stroll in the palace gardens, Hinata leaned her head against his shoulder, their hands intertwined, the soft lanterns casting shadows across their faces.

“I don’t want to hide from anyone,” she said quietly. “Not from the court… not from you.”
Sasuke pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. “One day we won’t have to anymore. When I become king I will eradicate the law that prohibits us from marrying… In know it sounds long but I only need three more years….until then I ask you to be patient.”

And as the lanterns reflected in the still water, they knew that no matter the tests, no matter the whispers of jealousy or intrigue, they had each other — always and forever.
………

The morning air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of cherry blossoms from the palace gardens. Sasuke stood in the training yard, his stance poised and deliberate, the hilt of his practice sword steady in his grip. Across from him, Hinata mirrored him perfectly, her own blade a slender extension of her arm, her gaze unflinching.

For years, they had practiced like this — in secret, away from prying eyes and the endless expectations of the court. It was more than just swordsmanship; it was their language, their bond, their shared rhythm.
“You’ve improved,” Sasuke said quietly, his eyes narrowing as she executed his signature maneuver flawlessly. The movement — subtle, swift, and known only to them — flowed like water from her hands.

“I’ve been practicing,” Hinata said, a faint blush creeping into her cheeks. “I want to be ready… if one day I stand beside you, I want to be worthy.”
Sasuke’s expression softened, a rare vulnerability flickering across his face. “You already are. But you always aim higher.”

Hinata’s lips curved into a small smile.

“Because you set the bar.”

They sparred for hours, the morning stretching lazily into afternoon. Each strike, parry, and feint carried the familiarity of years, yet every session brought something new — a lesson, a joke, a moment of quiet intimacy as they shared water or leaned close to adjust each other’s stance.

………

Meanwhile, far above the polished floors of the palace halls, Queen Mikoto and her advisor, Orochimaru, convened in private. Mikoto’s posture was impeccable, her calm gaze assessing every word her advisor offered.

“The celebration has drawn attention from the neighboring kingdoms,” Orochimaru said softly, his fingers steepled before him. “Princess Ino’s presence here is not simply ceremonial. It is an opportunity to secure an alliance.”
Mikoto nodded slightly. “Sasuke will need guidance. He cannot allow personal attachments — distractions — to compromise his future. The boy is strong, but he is also… headstrong.”
“Perhaps a direct conversation is necessary,” Orochimaru suggested. “Remind him of his duty, his responsibilities… and the importance of forming bonds that strengthen the crown.”
Mikoto’s lips pressed into a firm line. “Yes. Soon. But subtlety must guide it. Force only breeds defiance.”

In the quiet of the palace, the threads of duty and desire were being pulled taut, and the young crown prince would soon feel their weight.

……….    

Back in the gardens, Sasuke and Hinata had finished sparring. Their breaths came in quiet pants, and the scent of grass and spring flowers hung around them. Sasuke sheathed his sword, tossing it lightly to the side, and leaned back against the old tree where they had shared so many moments as children. Hinata joined him, brushing a few stray petals from her hair before sitting beside him.
They let themselves linger in the stillness, arms occasionally brushing, fingers intertwined, the bond between them quiet but unbroken.

“What do you think the future looks like for us?” Hinata asked softly, her head tilting as she gazed up at him.
Sasuke’s eyes glimmered with amusement. “Hopefully, somewhere with fewer people telling us what to do.”
Hinata laughed lightly. “And children?”
Sasuke’s smirk deepened. “You’re thinking too far ahead.”
“I like thinking,” she replied, nudging him playfully with her shoulder. “I think of… our family. How many children we’d have. What they’d be like.”
Sasuke chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re relentless.” He reached over, tugging her gently into his lap. “And here I thought I was supposed to be teaching you restraint.”
Hinata’s face turned pink, but she couldn’t help smiling. “You’re sweaty!” she exclaimed, tapping his chest. “We just trained! How can you think this is appropriate?”

“I think it’s perfect,” he replied quietly, resting his chin against her temple. Their foreheads pressed together, and for a moment the world of the palace — the politics, the court, the distant threats — fell away.

Hinata’s heart fluttered as she tilted her head slightly, and Sasuke, reading her hesitation, leaned in gently. Their lips met in a tender, fleeting kiss — soft and full of unspoken emotion, a seal of trust and love that spoke louder than words.

When they pulled back, Hinata’s cheeks were flushed, and her eyes shone with a mix of surprise and happiness. Sasuke’s dark eyes held hers, warm and steady. “See?” he whispered, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “Even the world can wait.”

Hinata giggled softly, resting her forehead against his once more. “Even if we’re sweaty,” she teased, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face. “I still think we shouldn’t kiss like this right after training.”

Sasuke chuckled, tightening his hold gently, their hands entwined. “Then we’ll just have to be careful… next time,” he murmured, and for a long moment, they simply sat together, the garden around them a quiet sanctuary from everything outside.

They imagined their life together: a house filled with laughter, small children running through gardens, the quiet rituals of everyday love. Sasuke teased her gently about what their children might inherit from each of them — her determination, his stubbornness — and she laughed at his exaggerations.

Hours passed unnoticed as they shared this private world, hands entwined, heads leaning close, cheeks brushing in quiet affection. The soft glow of the setting sun painted the leaves golden around them, framing the moment as though it existed outside of time itself.

Unseen, the shadow of duty was never far. In the palace hall, Mikoto and Orochimaru finalized their plan: a private audience with the crown prince to remind him of the strategic importance of a match with Princess Ino. Though Sasuke was lost in the garden, unaware, the threads of the future were already weaving around him.

But in that secret garden, under the old tree, Sasuke and Hinata were simply themselves: two people who had grown up together, who had survived grief and expectation, who now shared a quiet, unshakable love. And for a little while longer, the world outside could wait.

…………

The morning light filtered through the high windows of the palace hall, casting long, rigid shadows across the marble floor.

Sasuke stood silently before Queen Mikoto, hands loosely clasped behind his back. The air was calm, but tension lingered like an invisible weight pressing against his chest.
Mikoto’s gaze was sharp, yet composed, her posture the embodiment of a ruler accustomed to control.

“Sasuke,” she began, her voice smooth but deliberate, “you are nearing an age when the responsibilities of the crown can no longer be deferred. Alliances must be secured, bonds must be formed.”
He kept his expression neutral, though inwardly a storm raged. “I understand, Mother,” he replied quietly.

Mikoto tilted her head slightly, studying him with the same meticulous precision she applied to matters of state. “Understanding is not enough. A prince must act, not merely acknowledge. The neighboring kingdoms have sent Princess Ino to spend time here. Her presence is a reminder that the crown is not yours for pleasure or whim. She is an opportunity.”

Sasuke’s jaw tightened imperceptibly. Every word she spoke was measured, carefully designed to remind him of the path he was expected to walk. And yet… his mind wandered to the other, the one who had grown with him, who had been by his side through grief, joy, and the quiet moments no one else would ever understand.

“I am aware of the importance of political alliances,” he said evenly, “but I must… consider more than just the crown.”

Mikoto’s brow lifted, and for the first time, a small flicker of curiosity crossed her expression. “And what is it that troubles you, Sasuke? Duty, or… desire?”

The words struck him in a way nothing else had. Desire. That single word encapsulated the dangerous truth he had been holding tightly to himself for years. He did not answer immediately, letting the silence stretch, deliberate and uncomfortable.

Orochimaru, standing slightly behind the queen, spoke at last, his tone measured and precise. “My lord, political prudence is not a suggestion. It is a necessity. A crown without allies is fragile, and a prince without guidance is… vulnerable.”

Sasuke’s eyes flicked toward him, sharp and assessing, but his face betrayed nothing. He knew exactly what the advisor was implying: that personal attachments were weaknesses, even if the heart demanded otherwise. He clenched his fist subtly behind him, aware of the weight of every unspoken word.

“I am aware,” he said finally, his voice low. “I do not intend to neglect my duties. But… there are other considerations, ones that are not so easily dismissed.”

Mikoto inclined her head, silent acknowledgment passing between them, though her expression remained carefully neutral. She would not press further now — the game of patience and subtlety was hers, and she knew Sasuke well enough to understand that he was not one to bend easily, even to her.

Orochimaru’s lips curled faintly. “Just remember, Prince, that the world is far less forgiving than even the palace walls suggest.”

Sasuke said nothing. He left the audience shortly after, moving through the echoing halls of the palace, every step measured, every thought consuming him. By the time he reached his chambers, his shoulders bore a tension he could not shake. But even in the privacy of solitude, there was one thought that refused to leave: Hinata.

Chapter Text

Later that evening, after the palace had quieted and servants had retreated to their quarters, Sasuke found himself pacing the corridors. He had tried, half-heartedly, to focus on reports and strategic considerations, but each document blurred under the weight of unspoken desires and mounting responsibilities. His mind would not rest.

Impulsively, he moved toward Hinata’s room. He did not knock. He did not pause. When he stepped inside, she looked up from the small table where she had been organizing herbs, her hands still dusted with lavender powder.

“Sasu?” Her voice was a mixture of surprise and concern. Even from the moment he entered, she sensed the tension radiating from him.

He found her wearing a half-open, sleek nightgown that brushed just above her knees. From the way the fabric clung to her and the subtle reveal of her cleavage, he could tell she wore nothing beneath it. In recent times, she had grown quite fond of sleeping without undergarments. There was hardly anything he didn’t know about her

He offered the smallest of smiles. “I didn’t want to disturb you so late, but… I needed to see you.”
Hinata’s brow furrowed, cautious. “Something is wrong,” she said gently. “You look… different.”
“Just the duties of the crown,” he said lightly, though his eyes betrayed the fatigue in his voice. “It’s nothing for you to worry about.”

She studied him for a long moment, sensing both the effort in his attempt at casualness and the hidden turmoil he refused to voice.

Finally, she gave a small nod. “Then stay with me, for a little while,” she whispered while opening her arms to his direction signalling him to come to her. 
Sasuke’s lips curved into a faint, private smile, the kind that only Hinata ever saw.

“That is all I wanted.”

She sat between his legs, her back pressed against his chest as his arms closed around her waist. His hands moved with quiet familiarity, tracing the curve of her body in slow, unhurried motions while often sneaking his arms inside her open kimono, rubbing her stomach and often times reaching the under-curve of her breast, warm and inviting. Hinata found that relaxing, Sasuke was her home. The air between them seemed to hum with warmth and longing. Moments like this came effortlessly—they were bound by something deeper than touch, something that had always felt inevitable.

“I’ve been worried about you,” Hinata said softly, glancing at him through her long lashes. “The way the Queen and her advisor speak… it’s like the palace is a storm that will never let you rest.”
Sasuke’s gaze softened. “I am stronger than the storm,” he murmured, though inwardly, he knew how much he relied on these moments with her to steady himself.
Hinata turned around to face him and reached out, placing a gentle hand over his. “You don’t have to be,” she said. “Not with me.”
The simple words, unadorned and sincere, reached something deep inside him. The crown, the palace, the endless expectations — for a single moment, none of it mattered.

Only Hinata’s presence, her calm, unjudging, quiet understanding.

“I don’t want you to leave,” she admitted finally, voice low. “But if you stay too long, someone will notice. The Queen… even the servants…”
Sasuke tilted his head, brushing his fingers lightly over her cheeks. “Then we will stay just long enough to remember that there is a life beyond these walls,” he said softly. “Even if it is brief.”

Hinata exhaled, leaning her forehead against his. The warmth of her presence, the soft weight of her hand, and the steady rhythm of her breath were all he needed to anchor himself.

After a long silence, Sasuke pulled Hinata closer, his lips tracing a path of light, lingering kisses across her cheek and down to the curve of her neck. His hand made its way through her waist, the tremor in his touch betraying the conflict in his chest.

“Sasu—” Hinata’s breath caught as she tried to speak. She knew what this was — not just desire, but a plea. He was searching for escape, for a way to quiet the storm that had been eating him away.
“This isn’t the right time,” she whispered. “It’s late… someone might—”
But he didn’t stop. His movements were gentle, almost reverent, but filled with urgency — as if being close to her was the only way he could remind himself that he was still alive.

“Baby,” he murmured against her lips, his voice low and unsteady, “please… I need this. I need you right now.”
Hinata felt her resolve waver. She could see the desperation in his eyes — the rawness he so rarely allowed to show. It wasn’t about passion anymore; it was about comfort, about grounding him when he felt he might break apart.
Her hands found their way to his face, her touch tender, forgiving. “I know,” she breathed, her voice soft. “Just… promise me this isn’t how you’ll try to forget.”
He nodded faintly, their foreheads still touching. “I promise.”

As she closed her eyes, she felt him bringing her closer in an attempt to break their remaining distance, letting the last trace of reason slip away.

She let him have his way— not out of surrender, but out of love, out of the quiet understanding that sometimes the only way to heal someone’s heart is to hold it close.

…….

By the time Sasuke finally pulled himself together and got dressed to leave, the night had almost given way to dawn — it must have been close to five. Winter made the darkness feel longer, stretching every quiet hour, and he found himself grateful for it.

He glanced back at the bed, where Hinata’s silhouette rested peacefully beneath the sheets. A faint smile crossed his face. He could already imagine the look she’d make when she woke and discovered the little surprises he’d left for her — a reminder that she wasn’t the only one who could keep him on his toes. Maybe he’d taken his mischief a bit too far this time, but that was them: her serenity against his restlessness, always colliding, always finding balance somehow.

If there was one thing he was truly grateful for, was that she had the day off tomorrow. After how drained he had left her, if she hadn’t, she probably would scold him for not having had enough rest and even forbidden him from ever coming to her room at night for a long while.

When he finally left, stepping into the shadows of the palace halls, the faint smile never left his face. And somewhere, beyond the thick stone walls, the Queen and her advisor continued plotting, unaware that the prince’s heart had already been claimed by someone far beyond politics and alliances.

…………

The first light of dawn crept through the sheer curtains, pale and gentle. The room was silent — too silent.

Hinata stirred, her fingers brushing over the cold space beside her. He was gone.
She had expected it. He had to, and she completely understood. But still, waking without him left a faint ache in her chest, a hollow sort of longing that she dared not name.

Slowly, she sat up, the sheets still warm where he had lain. The faint scent of cedar and smoke lingered in the air — his scent, one that clung stubbornly to the pillow and her skin. Her fingers rose unconsciously to her collarbone, and parts of her cleavage, tracing the tender marks left in his wake.

They bloomed like soft petals along her throat and shoulders, reminders of a night she would replay over and over in the quiet corners of her mind.

She flushed, biting back a nervous smile. It wasn’t the first time he’d left proof of his affection on her skin, but it never failed to make her heart flutter — equal parts warmth and guilt.

Standing, Hinata crossed to the small mirror propped on her vanity. The reflection that stared back was a girl and not a girl — her hair disheveled, cheeks still faintly pink, her lips curved into something fragile and unguarded. She sighed softly and began to tie her hair up, careful to let loose strands fall where they might hide what he’d left behind.

“Troublesome…” she murmured under her breath, though a shy smile followed the word.

Her body felt tender, not in pain but in memory. Every touch, every whispered word, lingered like an echo in her skin. But she couldn’t afford such indulgent thoughts — not when one wrong step could undo everything.

From beneath the bed, she pulled out a small wooden box. Inside were bundles of herbs, neatly tied and dried — mixtures she had learned from Shiro over the years. She picked through them until her fingers closed around a pouch of pale green leaves, bitter to the scent.

Hinata filled a small bowl with hot water, steeping the herbs until the air filled with their sharp, earthy aroma. The tonic was not meant for healing wounds — not the kind that showed, at least. It was something she had learned of from a discreet woman in the town, a healer who asked few questions and gave fewer answers.

It was a woman’s safeguard — a secret no one spoke of, though many needed it.
As the steam rose from the bowl, Hinata hesitated. The idea of having to hide this, of taking precautions to shield something that was born from love, made her chest tighten. But she knew the stakes. To bear the child of a prince was not a blessing. It was a sentence, at least for now.

She lifted the bowl and drank, the bitterness searing her tongue before fading to numbness. When she was done, she set it aside and leaned against the windowsill, looking out at the palace grounds bathed in morning light.

Somewhere out there, he was already dressed in his royal finery — the Crown Prince of the Empire, untouchable and composed. And here she was, in the quiet shadows of the servants’ wing, clutching the echo of his touch like a secret she couldn’t let go.

Her hand rose again, brushing her collarbone where his lips had been, and a small, wistful smile crossed her face.
“I’ll see you tonight, Sasu,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the hum of the waking palace.

The world would never know. But she would carry him with her — in every heartbeat, in every secret morning light that followed.

……….

The midday sun gleamed against the marble pillars of the southern courtyard, gilding the banners of the royal crest — the crimson fan of Uchiha — as they fluttered in the wind. Rows of newly recruited guards stood in disciplined silence beneath the high walls of the palace.

It was one of the first duties Crown Prince Sasuke had taken upon himself since assuming more of his father’s former responsibilities. To the court, it was an act of leadership; to Sasuke, it was an act of control — a way to occupy a mind that had never ceased to calculate and to protect.
Queen Mikoto observed from the colonnade, her expression calm yet commanding, while Orochimaru, ever the keen observer, stood at her side. The recruits shifted under the weight of her gaze — only the hardiest among them dared to meet her eyes.
“Your Majesty,” Orochimaru murmured, “the final file. Fifty new men from the Northern provinces. A promising lot — disciplined, some even educated.”

Mikoto inclined her head slightly. “Let’s see if they stay disciplined once the comforts of court are stripped away.”

Sasuke, standing a few paces ahead of her, allowed a faint smirk to touch his lips. He wore his ceremonial attire — black and silver trimmed, the crest embroidered across his chest — but his hands bore faint scars of sparring and blade work. He was no mere figurehead.

A captain stepped forward, bowing low before addressing the prince. “Your Highness, among the new recruits we have a man of mixed heritage — Ren Hyūga, born in the borderlands between the Hyūga enclave and the northern desert tribes. Recommended by General Sado himself.”
“Hyūga?” Sasuke’s brow lifted slightly. It was rare to hear the name outside the distant clans.

“Yes, sire. Half-blood, by his own word. Proven with a blade. Calm in temperament.”
Sasuke’s gaze flicked to the young man — tall, lean, with pale eyes that bore a hint of steel rather than gentleness. Ren bowed low, his voice steady. “An honor, Your Highness.”

Sasuke studied him for a heartbeat longer than he intended. There was something quietly formidable about the man — not threatening, but notable. “Serve well,” Sasuke said curtly. “Loyalty and composure will take you further than skill alone.”
Ren bowed again. “Understood, my lord.”
The ceremony continued, a long parade of names, oaths, and assignments. By the time the sun dipped toward the horizon, the recruits had dispersed toward the training grounds and barracks.

………….

Hinata was already there, her soft lilac cloak fluttering faintly as she carried a basket of herbs across the courtyard. The scent of mint and camphor clung to her sleeves — she had been with Shiro earlier, preparing mixtures for the soldiers suffering fatigue and bruising from training.
To the recruits, she was a familiar face. Everyone in the palace knew Hinata: quiet, capable, gentle. Most knew her as one of the crown prince loyal female servant and the senior herbal assistant .

Kiba certainly knew.

“Oi, Lady Hinata!” he called, grinning as he jogged across the yard. “You’re back again, huh? Couldn’t stay away from us filthy soldiers?”

Hinata laughed lightly, polite but distant. “Shiro sent me with more salve for blisters. You men don’t seem to take care of your hands properly.”
“I’d let you take care of more than my hands if you wanted,” Kiba said with a wink, his voice carrying enough that several of the men nearby chuckled.
Hinata sighed softly. “You really shouldn’t talk like that.”
“Oh come on,” he teased, stepping closer. “I’m only joking. You know, a girl like you shouldn’t spend all her days cooped up in the infirmary. You deserve a proper night out. What do you say? Let me take you down to the town fair this weekend. I swear I won’t bite— unless you ask nicely.”
Laughter rippled through the group. Hinata’s cheeks flushed, though her composure didn’t falter. “Thank you, Kiba, but I’ll have to decline,” she said evenly, adjusting her basket. “I have too much work.”
He leaned in, still grinning. “Work? Come on, Hinata. You can’t hide behind those herbs forever. You need someone to—”

“Enough.”

The voice was low, but it cut through the air like drawn steel.

Every man in the courtyard froze.
Sasuke had approached without anyone noticing. He stood a few paces behind them, his expression carved in stone. His black eyes — calm but glacial — swept across the group, and when they landed on Kiba, the man’s grin faltered.
“Your Highness,” Kiba stammered, straightening, “I— we were only joking—”
“Were you?” Sasuke’s tone was quiet, dangerously so. “Because what I heard was a soldier under royal service speaking to a lady of this court with remarkable disrespect.”

Kiba swallowed, his bravado slipping. “Forgive me, sire. I didn’t— I didn’t mean any harm.”

“Intent does not erase impropriety,” Sasuke replied sharply. “Perhaps manual labor will help you remember that.”

He turned to the captain nearby. “Until further notice, this one will handle the stables and latrine duty for the next fortnight. No exemptions.”

The captain bowed immediately. “As you command, my prince.”

Kiba’s face turned crimson, but he didn’t dare argue. “Y-yes, Your Highness.”

“Dismissed,” Sasuke said curtly, turning on his heel.

The men quickly scattered, muttering under their breath. Hinata lingered, her basket still in hand, torn between gratitude and worry. She could feel his tension even from a distance — the rigid set of his shoulders, the slight tremor in his jaw.

When the last of the soldiers had gone, she stepped closer. “Sasuke—”

He stopped but didn’t turn. “You shouldn’t let men like that talk to you that way.”
“I didn’t,” she said softly. “And I could have handled it.”

“I know.” His voice lowered, rough with unspoken emotion. “But I don’t like hearing it. Not from them. Not about you.”
Hinata’s heart softened. She reached out, fingers brushing the edge of his sleeve. “You can’t protect me from words, Sasu.”
Finally, he looked at her — the frost in his eyes melting, if only slightly. “I can try.”
A faint smile tugged at her lips. “You just gave the poor man two weeks of filth duty.”
“He deserved worse,” Sasuke muttered, crossing his arms.

“Mm.” Hinata’s tone grew playful, her courage returning. “You’re jealous.”
He blinked. “Jealous?”
“You are,” she said, stepping in closer. “Every time someone so much as looks at me, you get that same look. The one that makes even the guards nervous.”
Sasuke’s lips curved faintly. “I don’t get jealous. I get… protective.”
“Ah,” she teased softly. “Is that what we’re calling it now?”
He let out a quiet breath, shaking his head. “You’re impossible.”
Hinata smiled, her gaze tender. “You like that about me.”

There was a long silence — not uncomfortable, but weighted. Then, wordlessly, he reached for her hand, drawing her beneath the shadow of a stone archway where the moonlight spilled through.

“Just… stay away from the barracks for a few days,” he murmured, brushing his thumb along her knuckles. “Let the gossip fade.”
“I will,” she promised. “But don’t scold me for doing my duties, Your Highness.”
His smirk returned, faint but genuine. “You know I prefer when you don’t call me that.”
“I know,” she whispered, stepping close enough for her forehead to rest lightly against his. “But someone might hear.”
For a few breaths, neither moved. The cool night wrapped around them, the sound of distant cicadas humming through the gardens. Then Sasuke’s hand rose, brushing a stray lock of her hair behind her ear before pressing a soft kiss to her forehead — the kind that lingered longer than propriety would ever allow.
When he finally pulled back, his voice was quiet, certain. “Let them say what they will. You’re mine, Hinata.”

Her breath caught, her hand tightening around his. “Always,” she murmured.

Sasuke hesitated — torn between reason and longing — then leaned down, his lips brushing hers in a fleeting kiss that was soft but full of unspoken promise. It was brief, almost innocent, yet it held the weight of every secret moment they’d stolen before.
When they parted, his forehead rested against hers once more.
“I’ll come by tomorrow,” he whispered, his breath warm against her skin.
She nodded, her voice barely audible. “I’ll be waiting.”

He lingered just long enough for her to feel his thumb trace the side of her jaw and the neck, appreciating his work on her the some nights ago — then turned, melting back into the multitude of warriors.

Hinata stood there for a long while, her heart still racing, her fingers touching her lips as if to hold the memory in place. Only when the moonlight shifted across the stones did she whisper softly into the quiet:

“see you , Sasu.”

Chapter Text

The afternoon light poured through the high windows of the Crown Prince’s study, tracing molten gold across the marble floors and bathing the room in quiet warmth.

Sasuke sat behind his desk, posture straight, his dark hair catching the glow of the sun as he reviewed the endless scrolls and reports from the border garrisons.
Across from him, Naruto sprawled lazily in a chair, boots crossed at the ankle and arms folded behind his head.
“Remind me again,” he said with a long-suffering sigh, “why anyone would want to be prince? You don’t even get days off to breathe.”
“You’re not helping,” Sasuke muttered, though his lips twitched faintly in amusement. “You’d last an hour before you fell asleep during council.”
“I would,” Naruto said proudly, “but I’d snore loud enough to make sure the old men woke up too.”

Before Sasuke could reply, a soft knock sounded against the door — three gentle taps that were unmistakable.
Without thinking, he looked up, and his features softened.
“Come in,” he said, voice lower now, warm.
The door creaked open, and Hinata slipped inside carrying a small tray of tea, tomato toasts and rice cakes. Her pale lavender eyes searched the room briefly before landing on Sasuke. For all her grace, the faintest hint of a smile tugged at her lips when their eyes met.

Naruto grinned broadly. “Ah, Lady Hinata. The only person in this palace who can make this one”—he jerked his thumb toward Sasuke—“look human again.”
“Quiet,” Sasuke said evenly, though his ears reddened faintly.

Hinata curtsied lightly before setting the tray on the desk. “I thought you both might want something to keep your focus, Your Highness,” she said, the practiced formality slipping naturally from her tongue — though her eyes softened when they flicked toward him.

As Naruto reached eagerly for the food, Hinata bent slightly to pour the tea, suddenly Sasuke’s hand found her waist almost absently, guiding her closer. She laughed under her breath and brushed her lips against his cheek in greeting.

“That’s hardly a greeting ,” he murmured. Before she could move away, he grabbed her by the neck and caught her mouth with his—a kiss that was brief but sure, a small rebellion hidden in the quiet of the room.
— before her cheeks turned a shade of rose. “Sasu,” she whispered in warning, glancing toward Naruto.

“He’s too busy eating,” Sasuke murmured, his lips curving faintly against her ear. “Besides, I’ve not seen you properly in two days.”

Naruto, hearing them but pretending not to, gagged loudly. “Oh for heaven’s sake. Can’t you two save it for when I’m not in the room?”

Sasuke shot him a dry look. “You’re just bitter.”

“Because I don’t have a secret romance with the pretty girl in the castle? Maybe.” Naruto smirked. “But some of us prefer not to die at the Queen’s hand.”

Hinata flushed scarlet, hiding her face against Sasuke’s shoulder. He only chuckled, smoothing a hand around her waist until she gathered the courage to sit on his lap, her fingers tracing lazy circles on the back of his head while Naruto muttered something about finding a new job.

Naruto’s exaggerated look of offense made her laugh again — soft and melodic — and for a few blessed moments, the study felt less like a gilded cage and more like home. Sasuke’s hand rested against her waist, steady, grounding. The world outside — politics, alliances, endless wars — could not touch them here.

They stayed like that until a sharp knock echoed from the other side of the door.
Hinata froze instantly, and Sasuke’s hand fell away as though it burned. She slipped quickly from his lap and adjusted her dress with trembling fingers. In a breath, the servant’s composure returned to her face — polite, neutral, distant. Sasuke straightened as well, posture royal once again.

“Enter,” he commanded, voice smooth but a touch strained.

The door opened, and a young man stepped through. He was tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in the crisp uniform of the newly recruited royal guard. His dark hair was tied neatly at the nape of his neck, and when his eyes lifted, they glimmered pale and unmistakably — the eyes of the Hyūga.

“Your Highness,” he greeted, bowing deeply. “Ren Hyūga, at your service. I was asked to report for assignment under Captain Yamato.”

Sasuke nodded curtly, masking the flicker of unease that rippled through him. “Yes. You were among the northern recruits who arrived last fortnight.”

“Yes, my lord.” His gaze moved politely — but when it landed on Hinata, he faltered for a fraction of a second.

It was instinctive, that pause — as though some ancient recognition had passed between them. Hinata blinked, equally taken aback. It had been years since she had seen another Hyūga, and the sight struck something deep inside her chest — a quiet ache of familiarity and loss.

“You… you’re—” Ren began softly before catching himself. “Forgive me. I had not expected to find another of our kind here in the palace.”

Her voice was gentle but even. “Nor I,” she replied. “It’s… rare.”

Sasuke’s jaw tightened. The exchange was brief, innocent — but the way Ren’s eyes lingered, openly admiring her poise, was enough to spark an unfamiliar heat in his veins. He schooled his face into its usual calm, though his hand curled slightly at his side.

Ren bowed again to the prince. “It will be an honor to serve under your command, Your Highness.”
“See that it is,” Sasuke said coolly. “You’ll begin your duties at dawn. Dismissed.”
The young man straightened, nodded once more, and turned to go. But before leaving, he glanced once more at Hinata — a fleeting, almost hesitant smile crossing his lips.
“I hope we’ll meet again, my lady,” he said softly.

Hinata inclined her head, polite as ever. “I’m certain we will.”

As the door shut behind him, the silence that followed was heavy and sharp. Naruto looked between them and immediately muttered, “Oh, I’m going to head out before the tension strangles me.” He grabbed a rice cake and left with the grace of someone fleeing a storm.

Hinata turned to Sasuke, sensing his mood like a shift in the air. “You’ve known,” she said quietly, realization dawning in her eyes.

“You’ve known he was here.”

Sasuke exhaled slowly. “Two weeks. I didn’t think it mattered.”

“Didn’t think it mattered?” Her voice trembled, though she wasn’t angry — just hurt. “You know what he means. He’s—he’s Hyūga, Sasuke. He’s from where I’m from. You didn’t think that would matter to me?”

He stood abruptly, pacing to the window.
“He looked at you like—”
“Like what?”
“Like every other man who forgets his place,” he snapped, then closed his eyes, ashamed of the sound of his own voice. “I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant.”

Hinata stepped closer, her expression soft but firm. “You’re jealous.”

Sasuke turned to her, the sunlight cutting across his face. “Would you rather have me pretend I’m not?” His voice dropped, rough with honesty. “Every day I stand in rooms full of people who’d take everything from me if they could.”

She shook her head gently. “You think love means guarding me from the world. But I don’t belong in a cage, Sasuke.”

He reached for her hand, but she didn’t give in.

Hinata’s breath hitched. Voice trembling but gentle. “Sasuke… I’ve only ever looked at you.”

For a long, unbearable moment, the room was silent except for the faint crackle of the hearth.

Then Sasuke turned, his expression caught between pride and pain. “You’re right,” he whispered finally. “I know you’re right. I just—” His voice broke faintly, and he exhaled through his nose. “I hate that I have to keep pretending. That I can’t hold you in public. That someone else can look at you freely while I have to stand and do nothing.”

“I should have told you he was here,” he admitted. “It was wrong of me.”
Hinata’s anger had already melted into something smaller, sadder. “I understand why you didn’t. But I still wish you had.”

He nodded once, unable to meet her gaze. She hesitated as if to touch his arm, then thought better of it.
“I’ll leave you to your work, Your Highness,” she said formally, a fragile wall between them.
The title stung. “Hinata—”

But she was already at the door. Her hand lingered on the handle, then she turned back. For a heartbeat, she looked at him the way she had in their secret garden years before—tender and fierce, believing he could still be the boy who had promised her always and forever.

“Have a good afternoon , Sasu,” she whispered, and slipped away.

Sasuke stood there until the light died, his fingers curling against his palm as if he could still feel her there. On the desk, one of Ren’s reports lay open. He stared at the name until the ink blurred, the letters running like blood across the page.

Chapter Text

The palace had grown quieter since the first whispers of rebellion had begun to reach its walls. Every corridor hummed with restrained tension — guards doubled their patrols, courtiers spoke in hushed tones, and the Queen’s council met more frequently than ever before.

For Sasuke, the weight of responsibility pressed heavier with each dawn. As Crown Prince, the duty of command increasingly fell to him, especially as his mother’s health began to falter under the endless burden of rule. Between reports of border skirmishes and requests for reinforcements, his mind rarely found peace — though his heart was haunted by a single absence.

Hinata.

It had been nearly a month since she had truly spoken to him. Her greetings were polite, her eyes downcast, her voice soft and distant — the tone of a servant addressing her prince, not the girl who once shared her dreams beneath the grove’s shade.
He had tried to reach her — waited by the corridors she often crossed, lingered near the servants’ quarters under the pretense of inspection — but she always found a way to slip away, as elusive as the light before dawn.

The few times he caught glimpses of her, she was either in the company of Naruto or the young Hyūga recruit, Ren.
Ren’s arrival had stirred something volatile in Sasuke. Though the man carried himself with humility, there was a quiet confidence in him, the kind that drew eyes — and Sasuke had noticed the way Ren’s gaze lingered on Hinata when they first met. She had smiled then, softly, politely — but to Sasuke, it had felt like betrayal. Not because she’d done anything wrong, but because she hadn’t looked at him like that in weeks.

Even now, the memory stung like frost against his pride.

Sasuke leaned against the stone balcony outside the council chamber, the faint hum of a distant patrol echoing through the courtyard below. Beside him, Naruto stood quietly, arms crossed, eyes on the same horizon.
“You’re losing sleep again,” Naruto said at last, his voice quiet but steady. “You look like you’ve been awake for days.”
Sasuke didn’t reply immediately. His gloved fingers tightened on the railing. “The council doesn’t stop talking,” he muttered. “Every day, another border, another petition… and she—”
Naruto’s brow arched. “Hinata?”
A faint sound escaped Sasuke — something between a scoff and a sigh. “She’s avoiding me. Ever since that day in the office.”
Naruto shifted his stance, leaning closer. “You mean the day Ren showed up?”
Sasuke shot him a sidelong glance. “You make it sound like a crime.”
“Well, you did glare at him as if you were deciding which wall to have him executed against,” Naruto teased, though his tone softened. “She probably thinks you’re angry at her.”
Sasuke turned away, his voice quiet. “I’m not angry. I just…”
He hesitated, the words catching somewhere between his pride and his heart. “I don’t like the way he looks at her. Or how she smiles at him. It makes me feel—”
“Human?” Naruto finished gently.
Sasuke’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t deny it.
………..
In another wing of the palace, Hinata sat quietly in the herbalist’s chamber. The air smelled faintly of dried mint and chamomile. Shiro, the aged healer, measured powders and roots with his usual care, though his cloudy eyes still seemed to see more than most.
“You’ve been restless, child,” Shiro murmured without looking up.
Hinata hesitated, twisting the hem of her sleeve. “I’ve… I’ve been distracted. There are so many things to do lately. With the war, and the new guards, and…” She trailed off.
Shiro gave a low hum, then handed her a small pouch of dried leaves. “You lie poorly, Hinata.”
Her breath caught, and she looked away, cheeks warm.
“You avoid the prince,” Shiro continued calmly. “He looks for you. I’ve seen it.”
“I don’t mean to,” she whispered. “I just… I don’t know how to face him. Every time I look at him, I remember that he kept things from me. About Ren, about the council. About his mother pressuring him to marry.”
The old healer’s gaze softened. “You fear the future.”

Hinata’s hands trembled as she accepted the pouch. “He promised me we’d have one,” she said quietly. “He said once he turns twenty-six, the throne will be his — and that he’ll change the law. But what if something happens before then? What if… the world doesn’t give us time?”
Shiro reached over, his weathered hand resting on hers. “The world rarely gives anyone time, child. That is why the wise take it when they can.”
……..
That evening, as twilight deepened and torches lit the marble halls, Sasuke wandered the corridors aimlessly, unable to return to his chamber. His thoughts weighed heavier with each passing day. He had already been summoned twice by his mother, her tone growing sharper with every mention of “political duty.” Orochimaru had even gone as far as presenting him with a list of noble houses whose daughters were “strategically advantageous.”
The idea made him sick.
He reached the courtyard — the same one where Hinata often arranged the flowers each morning — and froze. She was there, alone, her pale hair brushing against the candlelight as she sorted through a bundle of herbs.
For a long moment, he said nothing. Just watched. Watched how her hands moved gently, how her eyes softened when she examined each stem. And he realized, with sudden clarity, that no amount of royal pressure could undo what he felt.
“Hinata,” he said softly.
She startled slightly, turning. “Your Highness.” Her tone was formal — too formal.
“Don’t,” he said quickly, stepping closer. “Don’t call me that.”
She hesitated, lowering her gaze. “People might hear.”
“No one’s here.” His voice softened, a plea buried beneath restraint. “You’ve been avoiding me.”
“I’ve been busy,” she whispered.
“Liar.”
Her breath hitched. “Then maybe I needed space.”

Sasuke’s hand found hers before she could step back. “Space from what? From me?”
Her eyes lifted then — full of quiet hurt. “From the parts of you that I can’t reach anymore.”
For a heartbeat, neither spoke. Then, his voice broke into the silence, low and raw. “Do you still love me?”
Her breathing trembled. “You shouldn’t ask questions when you already know the answer.”

And then — without thinking — he leaned in and kissed her. Not out of passion or pride, but desperation. The kind of kiss that carried all the things they couldn’t say — fear, longing, apology. Her hands pressed against his chest as if to resist, but only for a moment before she gave in, her tears mixing with the touch of his lips.

When they finally broke apart, the sound of distant bells echoed from the courtyard gate. A signal for the night watch.
Hinata took a step back, her voice quiet and trembling. “You need to rest, Sasu. The council will expect you early tomorrow.”

He nodded faintly, unable to trust his voice.
As he turned to leave, her whisper followed him — soft but steady.
“Please don’t let your duty make you forget who you are.”
He paused, looking back — eyes dark with emotion. “If I ever do… remind me.”

That night, as the moon cast silver light across the palace walls, two hearts lay awake in separate chambers — close enough to feel each other’s ache, yet bound by the walls of a world that would never understand.
And far away, in the Queen’s private hall, Orochimaru’s voice slithered like silk through the candlelight.
“He’s grown too soft, Your Majesty,” he murmured. “If he does not wed before his twenty-sixth year, the throne may not see stability.”
Mikoto’s eyes narrowed above her wine cup. “He will marry,” she said coldly. “Whether by his choice… or mine.

Chapter Text

The council chamber smelled faintly of ink and iron. Scrolls lay unfurled across the great cedar table — not maps of conquest this time, but reports: border raids, skirmishes, and pleas for mediation. The air hummed with unease.

Queen Mikoto spoke with the measured calm of someone who had long learned the art of making hard things sound inevitable. “Our western provinces are fraying,” she said. “Outposts burned, trade routes interrupted. The treaties my husband fashioned are unsteady; the nobles grow restless.”

Orochimaru folded his gloved fingers, the light catching the thin sheen of his smile. “Unchecked unrest breeds more unrest. If we wait for spring, grievances will harden into rebellion. The Crown must act before the embers grow into flames.”

Mikoto’s gaze slid to the small portrait of Fugaku that hung near the throne dais, the late king’s stern face carved into an image they all still felt obliged to answer. Her voice was quieter then, but no less resolute. “Send him where he must go.”

The room held its breath for the name that followed. It was not spoken with enthusiasm; it was a calculation. “My son will lead the envoys,” she said.

Sasuke had been listening in the antechamber, the parchment under his hand forgotten. He had expected advice and caution and the usual perfunctory discussions that spun late into the night. He had not expected to find the cost of peace laid bare with the bluntness of a blade.

When the chamber emptied, Orochimaru lingered a step behind, reading the young prince as keenly as one reads a ledger. “You understand what they ask of you,” he said softly.

Sasuke folded his fingers over the paper until the edge softened beneath his grip. “I do.” The words were small but steady. He had been raised beneath the shadow of a throne; duty had been threaded through his childhood like a seam. “If the Crown must go, it should go with hands willing to heal, not only to punish.”

Orochimaru inclined his head. “A wise sentiment for a man who has the knife in his hand.” His voice carried no judgement; only an observation. “You will be tested in places where kindness is mistaken for weakness.”

Sasuke’s lips thinned. He had no illusions. “Then I will not let them mistake it.”

After Orochimaru’s departure, he was left alone with his thoughts that drifted rapidly toward the servant’s wing.
Hinata had not spoken more than a few formal sentences to him in days. Every time he entered a room, she found another task that demanded her elsewhere.

Hinata didn’t know about the mission.
He wanted her to hear it from him — not from gossip or the echo of boots in the courtyard.

---

Two days after her kiss with Sasuke, Hinata found herself in the herb garden, cutting mint for the kitchens when Ren approached. He had shed his armor for the lighter uniform of the castle guard, sun catching on the pale tint of his Hyūga eyes.
“I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said gently. “You move like someone who belongs to this place.”
Hinata smiled a little, polite but wary. “I only serve, Sir Ren.”
He crouched beside the beds, picking up a leaf she’d dropped. “You know,” he said after a moment, “when I was sent here, I didn’t expect to find one of my own blood in the palace. The Hyuga clan it’s almost a forgotten one”.
Hinata’s fingers stilled. “I was a child when I left them. I barely remember.”
He studied her face—calm, but carrying something deeper. Then he nodded, as though reaching a decision.
“You don’t need to explain,” he said softly. “I’ve seen the way you look at him—the Crown Prince. And the way he looks at you. Don’t worry.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Your secret’s safe with me.”
She turned sharply, heart hammering. “I—Sir Ren—”
He lifted a hand, stopping her. “No need. Whatever you are to each other, it’s something real. And real things are rare in palaces.”
Then he bowed, and left her among the mint and the sunlight, the words echoing in her chest.
…………..

Word moved faster than he did. By dawn the next day the palace hummed differently — not with celebration but with the gathering logistics of a coronation in reverse: provisions, envoys, courier routes. Orders were sent. Men and women were assigned to threads of supply that would bind his journey together.

He told himself, as he had told himself so many times since his father’s death, that this was what his name had always prepared him to face: the brittle calculus of power, the hard economy of lives weighed against peace.

where certainty should have lived.
……..

He told himself he would give her space. Yet now, standing outside the servants’ kitchen, the muffled sound of Nana’s gentle voice coaxing her laughter from within, he realised space had turned to distance.
Sasuke took a slow breath, straightened his posture, and stepped inside.

The air was warm with the scent of broth and herbs. Hinata sat by the table chopping vegetables beside Nana, sleeves rolled, hair tied loosely at her neck. The sight hit him like something remembered from another life — simple, domestic, safe.
Nana looked up first, her smile kind but knowing. “Your Highness,” she greeted, bowing slightly. “This is a humble place for royalty.”
“I’ve never cared for thrones,” he replied softly, eyes never leaving Hinata. “I came to speak with her.”
Hinata froze mid-slice but didn’t look up. “I’m busy, my lord,” she said, her tone polite and distant — too formal for them. “If you need anything, I’ll send one of the kitchen hands.”
He stepped closer, keeping his voice calm though he could feel the ache creeping into it. “It’s important. Please.”
Her knife paused, then continued its rhythm against the board. “Everything you have to say seems to already find its way to others before it reaches me,” she murmured. “What’s left to hear?”
That struck him cleanly. “That’s not fair,” he said quietly. “I’ve tried—”
“Then try less,” she interrupted, still not looking at him.

Her words were soft, but they might as well have been a blade.
For a long moment, he stood there, watching the small tremor in her hands — the way she fought not to look at him, not to crumble. Then he nodded once, silently, and stepped back.
Nana looked between them, her heart heavy. “Sometimes, child,” she said to Hinata as he left, “the things we don’t say hurt worse than the ones we do.”
Hinata didn’t answer. She only kept chopping, though her vision blurred with unshed tears.
……..

Two days later, the truth came crashing down.

Hinata was walking through the northern corridor when she heard the voices — two guards stationed by the window alcove, speaking carelessly between shifts.

“…the mission is set for three dawns from now. His Highness leads the front with Captain Yamato himself.”
“They say the guard numbers hundreds .”
“Hundreds! And the Prince at the head of it — Queen’s orders.”
She stopped mid-step, the world narrowing into a ringing silence.
Three days.
He’s leaving.

The tray she carried clattered to the floor, the sound echoing like a crack in her chest.
Without thinking, she ran.

The double doors to the Prince’s office slammed open.
Sasuke looked up from a table scattered with maps and reports. Shiro, who stood beside him, startled at the sudden intrusion — but one look at Hinata’s tear-streaked face, and the old man bowed and quietly excused himself.

Hinata’s breath came in ragged bursts. “Is it true?” she demanded. “Tell me it’s not true— tell me you’re not going.”
Sasuke’s expression froze, but only for a moment. Then his jaw clenched, and he set down the quill.
“I was going to tell you,” he said. His voice was low, steady. “I tried.”
“Tried?” She laughed bitterly, though the sound shook. “You had days, Sasuke. Days! I had to hear it from the servants that you’re leading ten thousand men to war.”

He took a step forward, the faintest pleading in his tone. “I came to you, Hinata. You were with Nana. You wouldn’t even look at me.”

She blinked, struck by the memory — him standing in the doorway, the hurt she’d refused to see.
“I thought— I thought you’d come to…. You…… I was still mad at you ” she whispered. “That you didn’t trust me.”

“I stopped hiding the day I learned I could lose you to silence.” His voice cracked slightly, the restraint finally slipping. “I tried to tell you because I promised I’d never keep secrets again. But how could I speak when you turned from me?”
She shook her head, tears spilling freely now. “I didn’t mean to— I was angry, I… I thought you didn’t care.”

He closed the distance between them, slow, careful — like approaching a frightened bird.
“Care?” His hand reached for hers, hesitated, then found it. “You are the only thing I carry into every battle”, he said while reaching out to the necklace she had gifted him for his birthday when they were children. “The only thought that makes me fear death.”

Her lips trembled. “Then why must you go?”
“Because it’s my duty,” he said softly. “Because men will die if I don’t. Because I was born to lead — and I want to be the kind of king you could stand beside one day.”

The room was silent but for her quiet sobbing. Sasuke lifted a hand, brushing the tears from her cheek. “If I could choose, I’d stay. But if I stay out of fear, then all that my father died for means nothing.”

Hinata pressed her forehead against his chest, her voice barely a whisper. “I hate that I understand.”
He wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin atop her head. “Then hate me if you must,” he murmured. “But don’t doubt me.”
They stood like that for what felt like forever — the war maps between them forgotten, the air thick with the scent of ink and steel and grief.

At last, Hinata looked up, her eyes glistening. “When will you leave?”
“Three days,” he said. “At dawn.”
She bit her lip hard enough to tremble. “Then you’ll let me see you off.”
He nodded. “Always.”
Her breath hitched again, but this time it was softer — less despair, more resignation. “You’re impossible.”
“And you’re too kind,” he said with a faint, broken smile. Then, quietly: “Forgive me?”
Hinata reached up, her palm resting against his cheek. “Only if you promise me something.”
“Anything.”
“When you come back,” she said, “no more half-truths. No more waiting for the right time. Just… us.”

He caught her hand, turning it to press a kiss to her knuckles. “Just us,” he repeated.
Their eyes met — two souls caught between duty and devotion — and in that quiet space, she leaned forward, pressing a trembling kiss to his lips. It was soft, slow, full of everything left unsaid.
When they parted, she whispered, “Don’t keep me waiting too long.”
He smiled faintly, thumb brushing the side of her face. “You never wait in vain.”

That night, the castle burned with torchlight as preparations began in earnest. Hinata stood at her window, watching the soldiers move like dark threads across the courtyard, her heart heavy yet strangely calm. Somewhere beyond the walls, Sasuke was already getting ready — and though fear lingered, so did faith.

For the first time in weeks, she slept without resentment, dreaming of his promise echoing in the dark:
Just us.

---

At twilight the night before his leaving, Sasuke asked for a private moment with Hinata. The servants were distracted with the last checks; the castle’s corridors hummed with controlled activity.

She searched him for a long look, and in that look he laid down his fear without speaking it aloud. “Will you come back?” she asked, her voice breaking on the last word.

“If I can help them reach answers without more blood spilled, then I will come back,” he said. And though they both felt the hedging of truth — that a man’s return is never a promise until it is made — he leaned forward and pressed his mouth to her forehead, a small benediction in the dim room.

---

They left before dawn. The gates opened like the mouth of the world and the prince walked out under heavy skies. He rode with small retinues who knew how to listen and speak where swords might only shout. His route began with embassies: a burned town where merchants’ carts charred in a line of ash, a manor where a chieftain scowled at the idea of parleying with the Crown, an outlying hamlet where the people watched the prince with the wary eyes of those who had learned not to trust banners.

Orochimaru, ever observant and given to whispers that sounded like counsel. He recalled the night before the prince’s departure — the closeness between them, the unspoken current that passed like a secret through still air.
In the rose garden one morning, where the dew still clung to petals like fragile promises, he approached Mikoto. “He has been… marked by her presence,” the advisor said, his voice soft, almost musing. “The prince is not as unburdened as he appears.”
Mikoto’s face was a study of composed displeasure. “Then remind the household that its purpose is the Crown,” she said. “No servant—no matter how useful—should be allowed to become part of the heir’s shadow.”
Orochimaru inclined his head. “As you wish.”

A week after Sasuke rode out, the queen asked for Hinata to be brought before her. The summons was as gentle as a closed fist; polite, warm, and full of steel.

“You care for my son,” Mikoto said when the girl entered, her voice even as herald call. “Do not mistake my civility for approval.”

Hinata bowed low, her throat tight. “No, Your Majesty.”

Mikoto’s eyes did not soften. “I will not reproach you for being human. Even I remember what it is to be young and blind to consequence. But I will remind you of place. The Crown is a pattern that must not be unraveled by affection. When he returns, you will remember that a prince’s choice affects more than a single hearth.”

Hinata’s hands found each other in front of her, fingers knotting like ribbon. “I understand, Your Majesty.”

The queen let the words rest in the room like a verdict, and when the girl left it seemed the air itself had become thinner.

---

During those three months, the prince’s path was not a single blade of war but a web of fragile truces and necessary proofs. He spoke for the Crown across valley after valley, listening to grievances, sifting through rumors, and offering aid where bridges had burned. He negotiated the release of hostages taken by opportunists, ordered caravans escorted, and set field surgeons to work among farmers who had nothing to do with nobles’ quarrels. Once, a militia brought him a former ally who had turned to pillage; Sasuke stood before the man not as an executioner but as a judge who offered terms that could keep more lives intact than vengeance ever would.

At night he would find a quiet place and touch the crimson cord at his neck, feeling the small bead cool beneath his palm. He had thought that absence would make the heart cease to ache; instead, every sunset carried the weight of a promise he had made with his mouth and the small object that sat tethered to his skin.

Letters came and were read between the marching: brief, careful notes Hinata risked sending with trusted couriers, small parcels of dried tea and pressed mint, a handful of saved poems she had copied out and folded into thin parchment. He kept them all, folded into the lining of his cloak where they warmed like a small hearth.

The mission was not without horror. In one village he found a child shivering among remnants of a cottage and a wagon wheel still smouldering; in another, a band of rebels ambushed the escort he had left to bring aid, testing whether his bargaining meant anything. Each affront hardened his resolve: diplomacy needed muscle as much as mercy in places where law had been hollowed by hunger.

Yet in the same months he watched two enemy lords set aside blood debts after long nights of parley under the solemn promises of hostages returned unharmed. In a hamlet near the river Suiren he helped arrange a contract that restored a trade route and, with it, bread to a hundred families. Small victories stacked like careful stones.

---

Back at the palace, the world waited with a brittle patience. Weeks folded into months. Hinata worked and tended the herbs and walked the courtyard where they had once played. She clutched the crimson cord at her throat that contained the small sword-shaped charm he’d gifted her for her birthday years ago as if to feel his pulse through it. Nana would scold her gently and press more rice into her hand. The small routines kept her steady during the long nights, and yet each dawn the palace felt a little emptier.

---

When Sasuke returned it was beneath a sky that had turned gentle with late spring. The gates opened to a drum of cheers and flags and faces that scanned for the boy who had gone away and returned with a steadier line to his jaw. He rode in a little older, certainly more tired, but there was a tempered light in his eyes that had not been there before — the look of someone who had learned how to hold both blade and olive branch.

When the castle gates finally opened again, Hinata was there — heart hammering as the soldiers entered in formation. She searched among the armored men until she saw him. Mud-streaked, tired, but alive. When their eyes met, the world fell silent.

It was a silent greeting, he knew they would soon have their moment together.

The hallways were quiet, lanterns casting long shadows.
He paused outside Hinata’s door, listening. The soft creak of floorboards told him she was alone — perhaps preparing tea, perhaps reading, as she often did late at night. He stepped in, silent as a whisper, and found her seated at the small table, the moonlight painting her hair silver.

“Hinata,” he said quietly, careful, yet his voice carried all the relief he felt.
She looked up, without thinking, she stood and stepped into his arms, resting her forehead against his.

“I thought… I thought you might not come back safely,” she whispered, tears brimming.
“I promised,” Sasuke murmured, cupping her face. “And I always keep my promises.”
For the first time in weeks, there were no walls, no formality, no eyes judging them. He kissed her gently on the lips — a long, heartfelt kiss that said more than words ever could. Hinata, flushed and breathless, murmured a playful complaint about their closeness and the heat of the day, but her smile betrayed how pleased she was.

“I missed you,” he admitted softly.
“I missed you too,” Hinata replied, squeezing his hands.

They spoke openly that night of the things he had seen: the burnt kiln, the exhausted mothers, the men who had chosen to listen rather than strike. She told him about the queen’s admonition, about the way Mikoto had let her words fall like iron; he listened, not with the impatience of a man who must speak, but with the patience of someone who had come to understand the weight of small things.

“We will be careful,” he said softly, brushing the tip of his nose against hers in their private language of foreheads and small, contented gestures.

She smiled into the press of his hand.

“I’m telling you this because… I want sincerity between us,” she said firmly. “I don’t plan to step away from your life, no matter what, but we need to be careful. I don’t want to let your mother or anyone else dictate my place, nor do I want to hide from you.”
He leaned closer, holding her hands in his. “I understand. And I don’t want you to step away either. We will be careful… together.”
Hinata’s gaze softened. “Promise me, Sasuke… you won’t speak to your mother about this. About us.”

“I promise,” he said without hesitation. “No words. Not now. Not until we’re ready.”
She exhaled, relief and gratitude washing over her. “Then we’ll face everything together,” she whispered.

He pressed his forehead to hers, brushing their noses together in their familiar gesture of closeness. “Always,” he murmured.

Outside the window the palace breathed in the season: pots of seedlings on the sills, guards on their rounds, the low murmur of life resuming its ordinary cadence. Yet beneath the ordinary was a new seam of tension, threaded through with Queen Mikoto’s cool vigilance and Orochimaru’s quiet watchfulness.

Sasuke slid his hand into the pocket where the letters she had sent lay folded. He smoothed them with a thumb, a small ritual to make his return feel like more than a mission’s end.
………….

When it was already well into midnight, beneath a veil of white silk, their silhouettes moved like shadows in a snowstorm.

The world outside was cold, but here, warmth bloomed in whispered promises given in the form of whimpers, grunts and breathless sighs, the kind of language only fated hearts understand.

…………….

A quiet space between midnight and morning formed — their now steady breaths the only sound breaking the near absolute silence.
The soft glow of the lantern painted golden traces across the sheets. The world outside the chamber was asleep; even the ever-watchful guards were distant murmurs beneath the stillness.

For a while, neither spoke. Sasuke lay on his side, while one of his hands gently and teasingly caressed her form studying her face as though committing it to memory — the faint blush on her cheeks, her swollen plumped lips, the way her eyelashes fluttered with the afterglow of peace. Hinata’s hand rested over his heart, her thumb drawing idle, slow circles there.

He was the first to break the silence. “It still feels unreal… being here, with you. After all the chaos, all the noise of the conflicts… this feels like the only thing that’s real.”
Hinata smiled faintly, her eyes opening just enough to meet his gaze. “Then hold onto it,” she whispered. “Hold onto it when the world asks you to forget.”

Sasuke chuckled softly, low in his throat. “You always know what to say.”
“It’s easy,” she said with a tired little laugh, “when it’s you I’m speaking to.”

He shifted, brushing a strand of her hair away, then leaned down to press a kiss to her temple. “I missed this,” he confessed. “Not the walls or the kingdom — this. Us.”
Her expression softened, but there was something weighted in her eyes, something he didn’t miss. “Sasuke… there’s something else I need to say.”

He stilled, listening.

“When your mother spoke to me while you were gone,” she began quietly, “she was… clear. She said she understood how I could love you — anyone could — but that I should never let myself hope for more than what I already have. That one day, you’ll have to marry Princess Ino for the sake of the throne.”
He exhaled, his jaw tightening. “I see.”
“I didn’t tell you this before because I didn’t want to ruin tonight,” she continued, her voice trembling slightly. “But I need you to know that I don’t plan to step away, no matter what anyone says. Still… we need to be careful, Sasuke. For both our sakes.”
He turned to her fully, cupping her cheek in his hand. “I would give up a hundred thrones if it meant keeping you beside me. But I understand — I’ll be careful. I’ll keep my promise.”

Her eyes softened at his words, but she shook her head slightly. “Don’t give up what you’re meant to be,” she whispered. “Just… make room for me in it.”
A smile ghosted across his lips, bittersweet and full of unspoken devotion. “You already are my world, Hinata.”

They fell silent again, their fingers intertwining. The candle flickered, its flame shrinking, and Sasuke eventually stood, dressing in quiet motions. Hinata sat up, the sheet clutched around her, watching him with a small, knowing smile.

“When will I see you again?” she asked.
He paused at the door, turning to her one last time. “Soon. You’ll know it’s me before I even knock.”
“How so?” she teased faintly.
He shook his head with a quiet grin. “Because your heart will tell you.”

As he disappeared into the dim corridor, the first light of dawn crept through the window. Hinata lay back, pulling the blanket close to her chest, feeling the echo of his warmth still lingering against her skin. Between midnight and morning, their worlds — the prince and the servant — had once again become one, if only for a stolen moment in time.
………….

The first light of dawn crept through the shutters, painting the chamber in gentle gold. Hinata stirred, still drowsy, the traces of last night lingering like a secret whispered between them. The sheets beside her were cold — Sasuke had already slipped away, as he always did before the servants began their morning rounds.
She sighed softly, drawing her robe around her shoulders and moving toward the window. The courtyard below was already alive with noise — soldiers training, servants rushing about, and the faint hum of the kitchens beginning their work. It felt almost cruel that the world could go on so easily when her heart was still wrapped around the memory of his touch, his voice, his warmth.
---

The courtyard was still slick from the morning rain when Hinata heard the familiar whistle of a bird — a call and answer only a few in the palace knew. She turned toward the sound and saw him leaning against one of the stone pillars, grin wide as ever, hair tousled by travel and wind.

“Missed me?” Naruto asked.

Hinata blinked in disbelief before running forward. “Naruto!” she gasped, almost losing her footing in the damp grass. “I kissed you guys so much!”

He laughed, catching her just before she stumbled. “Hey, careful there. Can’t have the palace healer yelling at me for breaking the prince’s favorite servant, can I?”

She stepped back, her eyes bright. “It’s been months. I am so glad you are also back safely.

“Yeah, the mess out there wasn’t exactly friendly” Naruto rubbed the back of his neck, eyes flicking toward the open corridor that led to Sasuke’s quarters. “But we made it. Somehow.”

“Was it that bad?” she asked quietly.

He hesitated. For all his brightness, there was a shadow in his gaze now, a weight that hadn’t been there before. “Yeah,” he admitted. “Worse than I thought it’d be. People starving, fighting over scraps, kids who couldn’t even remember what peace looked like. Sasuke—” he broke off and gave a crooked smile, “—he held it together. You’d have been proud.”

Hinata’s fingers tightened on the edge of her sleeve. “I always am., of both of you.”

Naruto watched her for a moment, and something gentle passed across his face — a rare quiet that made him seem older. “He kept that necklace you gave him to anchor himself,” he said. “Every night, before sleep, he’d hold it like he was reminding himself of something. I never said anything, but… I saw.”

Her breath caught. “He— he did?”

“Yeah.” He grinned faintly, eyes crinkling. “You two are hopeless, you know that?”

She laughed through the tears that had risen despite herself. “Maybe.”

Naruto reached out and ruffled her hair, the gesture clumsy but warm. “Don’t lose that hope, Hinata. Whatever happens next, don’t let anyone take it from you. Sasuke needs that part of you more than anything.”

She nodded, unable to find words. When she looked up again, Naruto had already turned to leave, waving lazily over his shoulder.

“Go see him,” he called. “He’s been staring at the walls like they’ve got answers. I’m heading to the barracks before Mikoto drags me in for another lecture.”

“Thank you, Naruto,” she said softly.

He paused mid-stride, glancing back with a grin that didn’t quite hide the affection beneath. “You don’t need to thank me. Just take care of him. That idiot might be a prince, but he’s still my best friend.”

And with that, he was gone — leaving the faint echo of laughter, the smell of rain, and the steady thrum of life returning to the palace after too long a silence.

---

On the way back to her dorm, Hinata still felt the weight of Naruto’s words settle in her chest. Once there she moved to her small shelf of herbal mixtures, checking each jar carefully. Her stomach dropped — she was out of one of the key herbs for her tonic.
“Already?” she murmured, frowning. The mixture was delicate; it needed to be taken regularly. There was no time to lose.

By mid-morning, Hinata wrapped her shawl around her shoulders and slipped quietly through the back gate of the castle. The town was waking — vendors setting up stalls, children running barefoot through the cobblestones. She made her way to the apothecary’s lane, where the scent of dried flowers and smoke filled the air.
She had nearly reached the old woman’s shop when a familiar voice stopped her.

“Hinata?”

Her heart leapt. Sasuke stood just a few paces away, dressed simply in his dark training attire, his sword at his hip. His expression shifted from surprise to curiosity as he approached. “What are you doing out here? You usually send for anything you need.”

Hinata hesitated, clutching the edge of her shawl. “I— I ran out of… something important,” she said quickly, eyes darting away. “It’s… a tonic.”
Sasuke raised a brow, clearly intrigued. “A tonic?”
“Yes,” she said, voice softening to nearly a whisper. “For… health reasons.”

For a moment, he studied her, the corner of his mouth twitching with amusement as the truth dawned on him. “Ah. Thatkind of tonic.”
Her eyes widened. “Sasuke!”
He laughed quietly, leaning in closer so no one else could hear. “I’m not judging beautiful,” he murmured, teasing. “She looked around nervously, then whispered, “Sasu, someone might hear you.”
“Let them,” he said softly, his tone turning gentle.
“I think,” Sasuke said, stepping close enough for her to feel his breath on her ear, “it’s endearing how much you worry. You plan everything — even love.”
She swatted at his arm, flustered. “You shouldn’t be here either, Your Highness. If someone recognizes you—”

“They won’t,” he interrupted softly. “And if they do… I’ll simply say I came to buy medicine for a persistent ache.” His eyes darkened, teasing. “One that only appears when I’m away from you.”
Hinata bit her lip, torn between exasperation and affection. “You’re impossible.”
“Only for you,” he murmured, brushing his fingers briefly against hers — just enough to feel her pulse quicken.

For a heartbeat, neither spoke. Then Sasuke sighed and drew back, his tone gentler now. “Go. Get what you need. And be careful coming back.”
“I will,” she said quietly. “And thank you… for understanding.”
He gave her a faint smile — the kind that was only ever hers — before turning to disappear down the busy street.
Hinata stood there for a long moment after he left, the sounds of the market fading into a hum. Her heart still fluttered in her chest, but beneath it was something steady — reassurance.
Whatever challenges came next — the queen’s watchful eyes, the looming duties, the uncertainty of their future — she knew this:
Sasuke might tease, might frustrate, might provoke her into blushing until she couldn’t breathe —
But he saw her. And in this life of secrets and silent halls, that was enough.

Chapter Text

Some weeks later

The morning light spilled through the corridors of the royal palace, soft and golden, carrying with it the familiar scents of herbs, roasted grain, and sunlight-warmed stone. Somewhere beyond the kitchen doors came the hum of voices, the rhythm of preparation, the small laughter of the palace’s daily life.

Sasuke waited in the shadowed hallway between the storerooms, his arms crossed, every inch of him tense with quiet anticipation. He knew Hinata’s schedule—had learned it almost unconsciously over the years. Today she’d been assigned to help with the midday meal. Which meant that sooner or later, she would pass through this corridor.

His heart, though disciplined, betrayed him. Each second of waiting stretched, thick with memory and longing. Since his return two months ago, life had been an endless parade of councils, letters, and speeches. The peace his father had fought for was fragile; the neighboring empires still watched, waiting for weakness. Duty pressed down on him like armor he could not remove.

And yet, for all that weight, he waited here—for her.

Light footsteps echoed, quick and familiar. Hinata’s voice floated softly, humming a tune he didn’t recognize. The instant she came into view, her arms full of vegetables and a basket of spices, Sasuke reached out and caught her wrist, pulling her swiftly into the small storeroom.

A quiet gasp escaped her lips. The basket nearly fell, but his arm steadied it just in time.

“Sa—Sasuke!” she hissed, her cheeks already pink. “You can’t just—someone could see—”

“Then you should stop standing so close to the corridors,” he murmured, the faintest smirk curving his mouth. His voice was low, teasing, but there was warmth there too—something that belonged only to her.

“Sasuke,” she tried again, but her voice faltered when his hand brushed a stray lock of hair from her face. Her pulse was loud in her ears, matching his steady gaze.

He leaned closer. “I missed you,” he said simply.

The words were quiet but disarming. Hinata’s protest died in her throat. All her careful composure melted away beneath his soft intensity. “You saw me last night,” she whispered.

“That was too long ago.”

Her eyes softened despite herself. “You shouldn’t be here,” she said again, though even as she spoke, she found herself leaning toward him.

He smiled faintly and kissed her—just a brief, tender press of lips that tasted of longing and mischief. When they broke apart, she sighed, unable to hide the small smile that formed. “You’re impossible.”

“Maybe,” he murmured, brushing his thumb against her cheek. “But I’m still your impossible.”

Her laugh came quietly, like wind through leaves. It was enough to make him forget, for a few stolen seconds, that he was a prince, that the world outside was still fractured and uncertain.

When she finally slipped away, the scent of herbs and her perfume lingered. Sasuke closed his eyes, committing the moment to memory before stepping back into the sunlight of duty.

---

The sparring fields that afternoon shimmered beneath a pale sun. Dust rose in quiet rings around Hinata’s boots as her wooden sword met Sasuke’s. The rhythmic thud of strikes echoed in the air—one, two, three—then silence as he parried effortlessly.

“You’re distracted,” he said, his tone mild but unmistakably sharp.

Hinata hesitated, lowering her sword slightly. Sweat clung to her brow. “I just… haven’t been sleeping well.”

“Dreams again?” he asked, recalling her restless shifts the night before.

She nodded slowly. “I can’t remember them clearly. Only flashes. Fire, light… and a sound. Like screaming. Then it all fades when I wake.”

He stepped closer, the wood of their swords crossing lightly. “It’s just a dream,” he said, voice calm but firm. “You worry too much.”

“I can’t help it,” she murmured, her fingers tightening around the hilt. “It feels… real somehow.”

Sasuke studied her a long moment, then—perhaps sensing the heaviness in her expression—allowed a smirk to form. “Maybe it’s that tonic you’ve been drinking.”

Her head snapped up, her face blooming crimson. “Sasuke!”

He shrugged innocently. “What? If it’s making you see things, maybe you should take less.”

“You—!” she sputtered, swinging her sword in mock outrage. He parried, laughter slipping unbidden between them.

By the time the sun dipped low, they sat side by side beneath the orange sky, watching light scatter across the fields. For a while, neither spoke. Then Sasuke said softly, “Nothing will ever take you from me, Hinata.”

The words carried no jest this time, only the quiet gravity of truth. And though she smiled faintly, a shiver ran through her. She didn’t know why.

---

That same week, in the dim warmth of the herbalist’s study, Naruto leaned back in his chair, sipping tea while Doctor Shiro shuffled through scrolls.

“So,” Naruto said, breaking the silence, “how long do you think this peace will last?”

Shiro’s sigh was weary. “As long as the empires can hold their breath. Not long, I’d wager.”

Naruto tilted his head, his tone softening. “You think they’ll still try to force the prince into marriage?”

“It’s the only sure way to seal the peace,” Shiro replied, rolling up a parchment. “A royal union binds empires faster than treaties.”

Naruto’s grin faltered. “Yeah… but you know him. Sasuke won’t marry Ino. Not when—” he stopped himself, lowering his voice. “Not when he’s already given his heart away.”

Shiro glanced up. “You mean the Hyuga girl.”

Naruto met his eyes squarely. “Hinata. And yeah. He loves her. Enough to rewrite every law in the empire.”

The old man smiled faintly, though his eyes were tinged with melancholy. “Love is a noble reason to fight. But sometimes noble reasons end in tragedy.”

Naruto didn’t answer. Instead, he raised his cup, forcing a grin. “Then let’s hope our prince is stubborn enough to prove history wrong.”

---

That night, the moon hung low over the palace. Hinata had just extinguished her lamp when a quiet knock came at the door. She frowned, cautious, and opened it only a crack—only for a hand to gently push it wider.

“Sasuke,” she breathed, startled. “You shouldn’t—”

“Couldn’t sleep,” he said simply, stepping inside. “And neither could you.”

Her protest faded. He looked tired—the kind of exhaustion that came not from the body but from carrying too much on one’s shoulders. She smiled faintly and motioned him in. “You’ll get me scolded one day.”

“Then it’ll be worth it.”

He sank onto the edge of her bed while she adjusted her shawl, flustered. They talked quietly about everything and nothing—the council meetings, the coming spring, the flowers near the east courtyard. Then their words turned softer, their laughter quieter.

“What will we do,” Hinata asked at last, “when all of this is over?”

Sasuke looked at her. “You mean when I’m king?”

“When you’re free,” she said softly.

He was silent for a long while. Then, in a voice almost like a vow, he said, “I’ll take you to the sea. You’ve never seen it. The air smells like salt and freedom.”

She smiled, eyes shining. “Then I’ll hold you to that promise.”

Later, when the moonlight fell pale across their faces, their kisses deepened, tender and unhurried. One touch became another; words gave way to sighs, whimpers and quiet laughter. Time blurred until only warmth and heartbeat existed.
……

When dawn threatened, Sasuke lingered at the door, reluctant. Hinata reached for his hand.

“I will see you at breakfast… be careful,” she whispered. “And come back to me.”

He smiled faintly. “Always.”

“I love you” she simply stated.

“I love you too” he responded with a teasing smile across his face.

---

But peace, as always, was fragile.

Just before sunrise, the world erupted

The stillness of dawn shattered beneath the roar of distant explosions. Bells tolled through the capital — a sound no one had heard in years. Smoke curled into the morning sky, black and merciless, rising from the outer walls.

Hinata awoke to shouting. The scent of burning wood filled her lungs before her mind caught up with reality. She stumbled out of bed, heart hammering, to the sound of running feet and desperate cries.

“The northern gate—! They’ve breached the north gate!”

The corridor was a chaos of servants and guards. Mothers clutched their children, soldiers barked orders. The air felt thick, heavy with fear.

Hinata grabbed her cloak, fastened the sword she kept hidden beneath her cabinet to her waist, and sprinted toward the dormitories.
The children from the servant quarters were crying, confused, some calling for their parents. She knelt, her voice trembling but calm. “It’s alright—come with me, quickly. We have to go to the safe chambers. Hurry now.”

Even as she spoke, a sharp tremor rocked the palace. The floor quaked beneath her feet. Dust rained from the ceiling. Somewhere beyond the walls, something exploded again.

---

Sasuke was already on the move.
He and Naruto sprinted through the royal corridor, blades at their sides, guards falling into formation around them. The clamor of steel echoed through the halls.

“Where are they coming from?” Naruto shouted over the noise.

“The Western ridge — it must be an ambush,” Sasuke replied, his voice hard as steel.

Another explosion shook the ground. From the courtyard, a plume of flame rose high, illuminating the early dawn in a grotesque glow. The city below the palace was burning.

Naruto cursed under his breath. “We need to move the civilians—”

“I’ll handle it,” Sasuke cut in, his tone clipped but urgent. “Get the southern gate secured. I’ll make sure the servants are evacuated.”

Naruto turned, meeting his eyes briefly — and understanding instantly. “Hinata.”

Sasuke didn’t answer, but that was answer enough. Naruto gritted his teeth, gripping his sword. “Go. I’ll cover you.”

They clasped hands briefly — a silent promise between brothers — before splitting into the smoke-filled chaos.

---

By the time Sasuke reached the servants’ quarters, fire had already begun to lick the rafters. He could barely see through the haze of smoke and ash. But through the noise and panic, a familiar voice carried over the din.

“Everyone! This way — stay together!”

Hinata stood near the entrance, her cloak streaked with soot, ushering frightened children through a side corridor. A young boy clung to her arm, tears streaking down his cheeks.

“Hinata!”

She turned — and relief flooded her face. “Sasuke!”

He reached her in seconds, pulling her into his arms before she could speak. For a heartbeat, the world fell away — the fire, the noise, all of it. He held her close, his chest heaving.

“Are you hurt?”

She shook her head. “No — the children, they—”

“Don’t worry about the children, I will handle them,” he said sharply, though his voice trembled. “You have to get to safety. Now.”

“I can’t—” she began, but he gripped her shoulders, eyes blazing.

“You can. Please, Hinata.”

Her lips parted to argue, but before she could, a deafening crash came from behind them — part of the ceiling had collapsed, scattering embers and debris. She shielded the boy with her body instinctively.

Sasuke cursed under his breath, helping her steady herself. “We have to move!”

They rushed through the smoke-choked hallway until they reached the last open corridor leading to the outer yard — where guards were guiding civilians toward the tunnels beneath the west garden.

Sasuke turned to her, brushing soot from her cheek. “Go with them. I’ll—”

A scream cut him off.

Down the adjacent corridor, a child’s voice cried out — high and terrified.
Sasuke and Hinata both turned. A small figure was trapped beneath fallen rubble, flames closing in fast.

“Stay here,” Sasuke said instantly.

“No.” Hinata’s voice was fierce — firmer than he’d ever heard it. “You have to lead the defense. That’s your duty.”

“I’m not leaving you in the middle of this!”

She stepped closer, her eyes clear despite the chaos. “You always told me that strength comes from trust. Then trust me now, Sasuke. Please.”

“Hinata—”

“I’ll be fine.” Her voice trembled, but her resolve didn’t. “You made me strong. You taught me how to fight. Let me prove it.”

For a moment, he just stared — at the soot on her face, the wild hair falling over her eyes, the sword she carried at her hip — the very blade he had forged for her eighteenth birthday.

A single, broken laugh escaped him. “You’re impossible.”

She smiled faintly. “You said that before.”

Then she leaned forward and kissed him — a kiss that burned hotter than the fire around them, desperate and full of every word they hadn’t said aloud.

When they broke apart, she whispered, “If I die—”

He silenced her with another kiss. “You won’t. And if you do… I’ll find you, even beyond this life.”

Tears gathered in her eyes. “You better. Or I’ll haunt you.”

He almost smiled. “I’d let you.”

And then she was gone — running toward the fire, her cloak a streak of pale blue amid the smoke.

Sasuke stood frozen for a single, unbearable heartbeat. Then he turned, drawing his sword and sprinting toward the gates, his jaw set and his heart split in two.

The flames roared behind him.

---

Outside, the world was chaos.
The eastern ridge was ablaze, the city beneath the palace engulfed in smoke. Arrows rained from the hills. The royal banners burned red in the dawn light.

Naruto met him at the ramparts, his face streaked with ash. “They came through the old trade tunnels! Who the hell knew they were still open?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Sasuke growled, cutting down an enemy soldier who lunged toward them. “We hold the line.”

“Did you find her?” Naruto shouted.

Sasuke hesitated only a fraction of a second before nodding. “She’s safe.”
The lie burned his throat like acid.

---

Back near the servants’ wing, Hinata fought through the smoke, hacking at the debris with her sword until she reached the trapped child. “It’s okay,” she gasped, lifting a fallen beam with trembling arms. “Almost there—just hold on—”

The air was searing, thick with heat. She could barely breathe. The ceiling groaned ominously overhead.

“Come on,” she whispered, pulling the boy free. “We’re going to be alright.”

As she turned toward the exit, a blinding flash filled her vision — a shockwave ripping through the corridor. She shielded the child instinctively, the force throwing them both to the ground.

For a moment, all she heard was ringing. Then — silence.

Smoke. Fire. The boy stirred faintly beside her, unharmed. She smiled weakly, relief washing over her… just before her vision dimmed.

Far away, she thought she heard her name being called —

Sasuke… Naruto please come back safe to me

Chapter Text

She guided the child through the smoke-filled halls, shielding a small boy with her arm as debris fell nearby.

When the last of them were safe, she turned — and froze. Through the haze, she saw enemy soldiers advancing, their armor bearing the dark insignia of the Western Territories.

“Go!” she cried to the others. “Run!”

Then she did the only thing she could: she ran the other way — leading them away from the shelters, into the woods beyond the castle walls.

---

Sasuke found the trail moments later.

Her footprints. Her scent. And blood.

“Hinata!” he shouted, sprinting into the trees. The distant sounds of battle grew muffled beneath the rustling leaves and rushing water.

He burst into a clearing just as steel met steel — Hinata, standing her ground against a Western soldier twice her size.

“Hinata!” he called again, but the word died in his throat as the enemy lunged.

Her blade met his, sparks flying, but she was tiring — breath ragged, movements slower. And then, in one cruel instant of distraction, the soldier’s sword slipped past her guard.

The sound — the wet, sharp sound — echoed through the trees.

Hinata’s eyes widened. She looked down, hand trembling over the wound in her abdomen.

“No!” Sasuke’s roar tore through the forest.

The enemy barely had time to turn before Sasuke’s sword cut through him — swift, merciless.

But it was too late.

Hinata stumbled backward, feet slipping on the wet moss. Behind her, the river’s current roared — and before Sasuke could reach her, the earth gave way.

“HINATA!”

Her name was the last thing the forest heard before she fell — her body vanishing beneath the silver waves, swept toward the waterfall that glimmered under the moonlight.

Sasuke crashed to his knees at the riverbank, arm outstretched, but she was gone.

The world blurred — fire and smoke, the metallic scent of blood, the rushing water that had just swallowed his heart.

Naruto arrived moments later, breathless, sword still slick with battle. “Sasuke! Are you—”

He froze at the sight. The bodies, the river, and Sasuke — drenched, shaking, eyes fixed on the torrent before him.

“She’s gone,” Sasuke said hoarsely. His voice broke — not with tears, but with something deeper, quieter. “To hell, Naruto… she’s gone.”

The river kept rushing on — relentless, indifferent — carrying with it the last light of the girl who had once promised him
always and forever.
……..

What the River Took

The river ran for miles, winding through forests and fields until it vanished into the eastern sea. On that night, when the firestorm of battle began to fade, its current still carried traces of blood and ash — and something far more precious.

Hinata’s body drifted silently, her pale form shrouded by moonlight, her hand still clutching the hilt of the sword Sasuke had forged for her. The water embraced her gently, almost mournfully, as though the world itself grieved the loss. By dawn, she was gone — swallowed whole by the endless flow.

Back at the palace, victory had come at a price too heavy for anyone to celebrate. The Western invaders had been repelled, and the borders were safe once more. But the castle walls felt emptier, the air heavier. The servants spoke in whispers, glancing toward the silent crown prince who no longer smiled.

---

For six months, search parties combed the rivers, forests, and valleys downstream. They found remnants — fabric from her robes, her ribbon tangled in driftwood, the faintest trace of footprints long washed away — but never her.

Sasuke led the first few expeditions himself. He refused rest, refused reason, refused to believe the river could take her and leave nothing behind. Naruto followed him wherever he went, silent and loyal, watching his friend descend into a quiet torment that no one could reach.

Each day ended the same way — Sasuke standing at the river’s edge until the sun dipped below the trees, his reflection fractured by the current.

One evening, six months after the battle, a messenger rode hard into the courtyard. Mud clung to his boots; his voice trembled when he called for the prince.

“They’ve found something, Your Highness. Downstream — near the old bridge.”

Sasuke was there before the hour ended.

The current was calm that day, the water clear. A few soldiers stood near the bank, their faces solemn. One of them held something wrapped carefully in cloth. When Sasuke took it, his fingers tightened, knuckles whitening.

It was the sword.

The one he’d given her on her eighteenth birthday — light, elegant, engraved with a sigil only they knew. The blade was chipped, its edge dulled by stone and time, but it was unmistakable.

Sasuke sank to one knee, clutching it to his chest. For a long moment, no one spoke. The forest was quiet except for the steady hum of the river.

“Your Majesty,” the captain began softly, “there’s no body. Only this.”

“I see,” Sasuke said, his voice hollow.

Naruto, standing a few paces away, looked down, his fists clenched at his sides. “We’ll keep looking.”

But Sasuke shook his head. “No. The river has already taken what it wanted.”

He rose, eyes distant. “It’s over.”

---

Life in the palace resumed in a cruel mockery of normalcy. Duties returned; councils met; papers were signed. But for Sasuke, everything blurred into one long, gray day.

He avoided the gardens where Hinata once gathered flowers. He stayed away from the kitchens where she used to hum while working. Her absence echoed in every corridor.

The people called him The Silent Prince now. Even Naruto couldn’t break through the walls Sasuke built around himself.

And Mikoto — the queen — watched it all in silence.

For months, she had said nothing. She had seen grief before, but not like this. There was something raw, almost defiant in her son’s silence — as though he refused to let go, even if it destroyed him.

Finally, she sent for him.

---

The queen’s chambers were still and cold when Sasuke entered. The light of dusk filtered through the high windows, bathing the marble in gold. Mikoto sat by the window, her dark hair streaked with silver, her expression unreadable.

“You asked for me,” Sasuke said quietly.

She nodded. “Sit.”

He did, the sword still at his side — he carried it everywhere now, wrapped in white cloth.

For a long time, neither spoke. The ticking of the clock filled the silence.

Finally, Mikoto broke it. “The council has decided. The ceasefire with the West will hold, but only if we strengthen our alliances.”

“I know,” Sasuke said flatly.

“They’re proposing a royal union. With the Eastern Empire.”

He said nothing.

“You understand what that means,” she continued softly. “Princess Ino has agreed to the arrangement.”

Sasuke’s jaw tightened. “Of course she has.”

Mikoto’s gaze hardened. “Do not speak with such disdain. This is the only way to secure peace — the peace she died for.”

The word struck him like a blade. He rose abruptly. “Don’t.”

“Sasuke—”

“Don’t you dare use her death to justify this!” he snapped. His voice, sharp and trembling, echoed across the chamber. “You think I don’t know what’s at stake? You think I don’t care about peace?”

“Then show it,” Mikoto said, her tone firm but pained. “Do what must be done for the kingdom. Marry the princess. End this cycle of war once and for all.”

He turned away, fists trembling.

“You cannot build a future on ghosts, my son,” she whispered. “She’s gone.”

Something inside him broke. He turned back, eyes blazing. “You think I don’t know that? I watched her die!”

Mikoto froze.

Sasuke’s voice faltered, raw and low. “I was there. I saw her fall. I saw the river take her — and I did nothing. I couldn’t save her.”

He sank to his knees, hands gripping the sword. “You were right about everything — about us. About what it would cost. And I still did it.”

Mikoto’s breath caught. “You mean…”

“Yes,” he said, meeting her eyes. “We were lovers.”

Silence filled the chamber.

“She wasn’t just a servant to me. She was… she was everything. The only person who saw me for who I was, not what I was supposed to be.” His voice broke again. “And I failed her.”

He bowed his head, trembling. “So don’t talk to me about duty or alliances or peace. Don’t ask me to marry someone else as if I could ever love again. Because I can’t. I won’t.”

Mikoto’s expression softened, the stern queen fading for a moment into something else — a mother. She reached for him, but he stepped back.

“If I marry that woman,” he said bitterly, “I’ll be insulting Hinata’s memory. Everything she believed in. Everything she died protecting.”

Tears welled in his mother’s eyes, though she quickly turned away. “You mustn’t let grief rule you, Sasuke.”

“It already has,” he whispered.

For a moment, they stood there — mother and son, both bound by love and loss, both trapped by duty and destiny.

Then Sasuke turned to leave.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

He looked back once, eyes cold but broken. “To the river.”

---

The night air was cold as he walked the familiar path. The moon hung low over the water, its reflection rippling on the surface like a restless spirit.

He stopped at the same spot where they’d last stood together — where he’d kissed her before the world collapsed.

The sword gleamed faintly in his hands. He knelt and placed it gently into the river, watching as the current caught it, carrying it downstream once more.

“You kept your promise,” he murmured. “You said you’d protect the kingdom. Even if it meant…” His voice cracked. “…even if it meant leaving me.”

He closed his eyes. The wind rustled the trees, carrying the faint scent of lilies — her favorite flower. For the first time in months, he allowed himself to cry.

Behind him, Naruto watched silently from a distance. He didn’t interrupt. He knew some grief couldn’t be shared.

When Sasuke finally stood, his face was calm — but something in him had died that night.

Naruto approached quietly. “You found peace?”

Sasuke shook his head. “No. Only purpose.”

He turned his gaze toward the horizon, where the stars faded into dawn.

“If the gods want a king,” he said quietly, “then I’ll become one. But I’ll rule on my terms. And I’ll change this world for her.”

The river flowed on, eternal and indifferent — carrying memories, promises, and the fragments of a love too strong for fate to bear.

---

Chapter Text

The river that ran along the western border of the Uchiha Empire was not like others.
It flowed quieter, slower — as if it carried secrets in its depths. The villagers called it the Whispering Vein, believing it was the pathway through which souls lost in war returned to the earth to be born again.

A day’s walk from the nearest settlement, in a clearing thick with willow and cedar, stood a small cabin built of gray wood and stubbornness. Smoke curled lazily from its chimney, carrying the scent of burning herbs and honey. This was the home of Lady Tsunade — the hermit healer, the witch doctor of the western alps — and, to some, the last remnant of magic the Empire had forgotten.

---

Tsunade

Tsunade was not native to these lands.
Long before the wars began, she had come down from the mountains beyond the Empire — a land of old blood and older knowledge. Her people had once been known for their mastery of chakra synthesis: the art of merging life energy with nature’s own flow, using it to heal wounds that medicine could not touch, to strengthen the weak, and to slow death’s hand.

But the wars had scattered them.

When she was still young, she met a traveler from the Empire — a kind man who called her his miracle after she cured his fever. He brought her down from the mountains and built her this cabin, promising that even if the world forgot her craft, he never would.
He had died ten winters ago, and she had kept her promise instead — to live on for them both.

The villagers nearby respected her.
They came when fever struck their children, when a birth went wrong, when soldiers came home broken. They brought eggs, honey, and firewood in payment, whispering their thanks as they left.

But when the firelight flickered on her face, they saw something almost supernatural in her golden eyes — a glow that didn’t belong to a mortal woman. And so they kept their distance. She was the Healer of the River, the Witch of the Willows, and most called her only when no priest or doctor could help.

---

The Morning the River Spoke

The morning Hinata arrived was quiet, wrapped in fog.
Tsunade had gone to the river to wash her linens — her hands strong, her movements practiced — when she noticed the water catching strangely around a dark shape caught in the reeds.

At first, she thought it was driftwood. Then she saw a hand.

Her old instincts snapped awake. She waded in, boots sinking into mud, and turned the body over — a young woman, pale as frost, her clothes torn, her hair tangled with blood and leaves. But what made Tsunade’s heart still was the faint, almost invisible pulse beneath the girl’s throat.

“She’s alive,” Tsunade whispered — more to the gods than to herself — and gathered the fragile form into her arms.

The girl was light — too light — and cold, her skin trembling with the faint echo of life. Tsunade pressed her palm to the wound near her lower stomach and felt it: a pulse of chakra, faint but burning — the unmistakable spark of something extraordinary.

It was not just the girl who lived.
There was another heartbeat — smaller, weaker, but there.

---

That Night, Tsunade Fought Death Itself

She laid the girl on her bed of cedar and linen and gathered her herbs — mountain sage for bleeding, juniper for strength, powdered deer bone for warmth.

But it was chakra that did the true work — her own life energy pressed into the girl’s heart through trembling palms, the golden glow of her healing filling the cabin like dawn.

It was long past midnight when the bleeding stopped, when the body stopped shuddering, and when the shallow breaths became steady.

Tsunade sank to the floor beside her, sweating and trembling. “Who are you, child,” she murmured, brushing the damp hair from Hinata’s forehead, “that death himself refused to claim you?”

Outside, the river whispered softly, as though answering: She is not yours to lose.

---

Five Months of Silence

Hinata did not wake.

Tsunade kept her alive with a patience born of grief and discipline.
Each morning she ground herbs and fed her tinctures through a hollow reed.
Each evening she wiped her skin with warm cloths, changed her dressings, and whispered to her — as if words could tether her to this world.

Sometimes she told her stories.
Sometimes she cursed the gods for giving her another soul to care for when she had lost every other.

And sometimes — when the moonlight fell over Hinata’s sleeping face — she felt the smallest flicker of movement beneath her hand, where the girl’s belly had begun to swell.

“A child,” Tsunade whispered, eyes wide. “You carried life even as you were dying.”

For a long time, she said nothing more. But that night, as she sat beside her fire, she wept for the first time in years.

She wept because she, who had never been granted a child, was now keeping one alive inside another woman’s broken body.
She wept because she had once prayed for a miracle — and this, though not the kind she had asked for, was one all the same.

---

By the second month, whispers spread through the nearby town of Kawa-no-Mura — the River Village.

“The witch found a body,” they said.
“She’s keeping her alive. Some say it’s a noblewoman. Others say it’s a ghost she’s nursing back to life.”

Children dared each other to sneak close to the cabin, only to be chased away by Tsunade’s old dog, Kame.
Farmers crossed themselves when they saw her at the market, buying honey and wool with the same steady calm as ever.

But no one dared ask questions.
They feared what kind of power could keep a dead woman breathing for months.

---

Month Three

Tsunade sits by the bed, brushing Hinata’s hair with slow strokes. “You remind me of him,” she says softly — meaning her husband. “Too stubborn to die when it’d be easier.”
The girl’s lips twitch slightly, as though she had heard.

Month Four.

A storm batters the cabin. Tsunade presses her chakra against the girl’s belly, whispering old words of protection. The faint life inside responds with a pulse — a ripple of warmth against her palm.
“You hold on,” Tsunade murmurs. “Your mother’s still fighting to meet you.”

Month Five.

One night, Tsunade dreams of the mountains — of the temple of her youth, where the old masters spoke of fate as a river that never runs backward.
When she wakes, she finds Hinata’s fingers curled weakly around her own.
The girl’s pulse is stronger.

Tsunade smiles for the first time in months. “Welcome back, little one.”

---

The Awakening

The morning she wakes, the world is golden with spring.

Tsunade hears a faint gasp — a sound she had half-forgotten how to hope for.
Hinata’s eyes flutter open, dazed, unfocused. “Where… am I?” she croaks.

Tsunade rushes to her side, her expression a strange mix of disbelief and relief.
“You’re safe,” she says softly. “The river brought you to me.”

Hinata blinks, her gaze drifting downward. “My stomach…”

Tsunade’s tone gentles further. “You’ve been asleep for many months. You were with child when I found you. You and the baby both survived.”

The young woman’s eyes widen — confusion, then realization, then tears.

“The palace,” she whispers. “The attack — Sasuke—”

“Who?”

Hinata’s lips part, but no words come. Instead, she clutches the quilt around her trembling frame and turns away, sobs catching in her throat.

Tsunade says nothing. She simply lays a hand on her shoulder and murmurs, “You’ve crossed back from death, girl. Whatever you left behind — it’ll find its way to you when the time’s right. For now, you live. And so does your child. That’s all that matters.”

---

That night, as Tsunade wrote her notes by candlelight, she glanced toward the sleeping Hinata and smiled faintly.

There was something divine about her — something that refused to be extinguished. And though Tsunade didn’t yet know her name, she knew this:
the river had not brought the girl by accident.

It had brought her to begin again.

---

Chapter Text

The cabin smelled faintly of smoke and blooming herbs that clung to its wooden beams like the memory of spring. Outside, the winter had softened into early thaw; the river that once raged now whispered gently as it wound past the quiet home.

Lady Tsunade had risen before dawn as she always did, heating water in the clay pot by the hearth. Her silver-gold hair was tied loosely at the base of her neck, and though her face carried the fine lines of age, her bearing remained upright — that of someone who had once held immense power and only reluctantly laid it down.

From the bed, Hinata stirred. Her hair had grown longer, darker, and her cheeks had regained the faintest color. A small bump rose beneath the woven blanket, moving slightly as if in quiet protest to the early hour.

“Good morning,” Tsunade said, pouring warm tea into a cup and carrying it over. “Drink this. It’ll help the morning sickness.”

Hinata smiled faintly, her voice soft and tired. “Thank you… you always seem to know what I need before I do.”

Tsunade chuckled, sitting at the edge of the bed. “When you’ve delivered as many foals and healed as many stubborn men as I have, you learn to read faces. Yours is easier than most.”

Hinata blushed, lowering her gaze. “You’re very kind to me. I must be a burden.”

The older woman shook her head. “You were meant to be found, girl. The river doesn’t bring strangers to my door without reason.”

---

As the days passed, Hinata’s strength returned. She began to help Tsunade with light chores — drying herbs by the fire, grinding roots with mortar and pestle. Her movements were slow, careful, but her hands remembered the rhythm of work.

Tsunade, for her part, didn’t press Hinata for answers. She had pieced together fragments — the delicate silk that clung to the girl when she was found, the embroidery only worn by those of noble or palace blood. Yet something didn’t fit neatly. A Hyuga woman in the royalty? And the faintly Uchiha-styled jewelry that Tsunade had discovered among her torn belongings?

“She’s tied to the crown,” Tsunade murmured one evening to herself, watching Hinata tend the fire. “But in what way…?”

Hinata caught her gaze, smiled briefly, and returned to the flames — unaware that the truth of her heart would soon spill forth in ways neither could have predicted.

---

The Confession

It was on a rainy afternoon when Tsunade finally asked. The sound of the downpour filled the silence between them as Hinata folded linen for the baby’s arrival.

“You’ve been here nearly seven months,” Tsunade said gently. “And though I’ve never asked — not truly — I think it’s time you tell me who you were before the river carried you here.”

Hinata’s hands froze mid-fold. For a moment, she said nothing. The rain seemed to grow louder, drumming against the shutters like the pulse of her racing heart.

“I was… a servant,” she began quietly. “At the Uchiha Palace.”

Tsunade raised an eyebrow, though her tone stayed neutral. “A servant? Yet you wear silk that even court ladies envy. And that necklace you hide under your gown — it’s Uchiha-forged. Only one smith in the empire could make work so delicate.”

Hinata’s breath hitched. She reached instinctively for the chain at her neck — the silver sword charm Sasuke had given her on her fifteenth birthday.

Tsunade’s eyes softened. “Child,” she said, “I’m not your judge. I only need truth to know how to protect you.”

Hinata’s lips trembled. Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes. “It wasn’t supposed to happen,” she whispered. “I never meant to fall in love with him.”

---

Flashback – The Corridor

The scent of cedar and rain had filled the palace corridors that day. Hinata had been carrying fresh linens when Sasuke caught her wrist and pulled her into a storage room, the door closing behind them with a soft click.

He had that look again — the one halfway between mischief and need.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she whispered, though her heart betrayed her with its pounding.

“And yet,” Sasuke murmured, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, “here I am.”

He leaned close, lips grazing her jaw. “One day,” he said softly, “I’ll change it all. So you won’t have to hide from me.”

Her breath trembled. “And if you can’t?”

“Then I’ll burn the laws myself.”

It was foolish, impossible — and utterly Sasuke.

The flash faded as quickly as it had come, leaving Hinata trembling in the cabin.

---

Tsunade listened quietly as Hinata continued, words spilling now like floodwater breaking through a dam.

“He was everything I shouldn’t have loved. Cold to the world, but gentle with me. He made me feel seen — not as a servant, not as a Hyuga… just as Hinata.”

She smiled faintly through her tears. “The night before the attack… we thought we had time. We thought love was enough to protect us.”

She paused, one hand over her belly. “It was the same night this child was conceived.”

Tsunade said nothing at first. Her gaze softened — the weight of understanding passing between them.

“You’ve carried a kingdom’s secret in your womb, child,” she said finally. “And with it, the risk of its wrath. If word ever reached the capital…”

“I know,” Hinata whispered. “But I can’t regret it. This life inside me — it’s proof that our love was real. That it wasn’t just a dream.”

---

Hinata’s voice wavered as she described that night — the flames, the screams, the moment Sasuke had told her to flee.

“He kissed me before we parted,” she said, her voice breaking. “He said, I’ll find you. No matter what.’ And then I fell — into the river, into darkness. I thought it was the end. But it wasn’t. The river carried me to you.”

Tsunade reached across the table and took Hinata’s trembling hand in her own. “Then it wasn’t the end,” she said softly. “It was a beginning — though you don’t yet know what for.”

---

As spring returned, Hinata grew stronger, her belly round and full. Tsunade crafted baby clothes from scraps of soft linen, humming as she worked.

Though Hinata’s smile often brightened the small cabin, her eyes still drifted to the window, to the distant hills beyond which the capital lay hidden.

One evening, as the sun bled gold into the horizon, she whispered, “Do you think he still blames himself?”

Tsunade answered without hesitation. “A man who loves deeply always does. But if he’s anything like you say, he’s also the kind to turn grief into purpose.”

Hinata touched the sword charm at her neck. “Then I’ll do the same. For him. For our child.”

Tsunade smiled, laying a hand on her shoulder. “Stay until the birth. Then we’ll see what fate allows. Until then, rest. Let the river’s current carry you forward, not back.”

---

That night, as the moon rose full above the forest, Hinata stood by the riverside. The water glittered like silver glass, its ripples catching the light.

“I lived,” she whispered into the wind. “You told me to survive, and I did. I’ll bring our child into this world, Sasuke. And one day, you’ll know.”

Behind her, Tsunade watched from the doorway — her expression soft but shadowed by worry.

She knew, as all healers do, that fate rarely leaves debts unpaid.

The river murmured on — gentle now, but endless. Beneath its surface, it held the secrets of love and loss, of what was taken and what was yet to return.

---

Chapter Text

The days had begun to blend into one another — long hours of stillness marked by the hum of the forest and the soft rustle of wind through the pines.

Inside the small cabin by the river, time moved slower.

The sunlight poured through the cracks in the wooden walls, falling over the woven blankets and the wooden shelves heavy with jars of dried herbs. A faint scent of rosemary and cedar lingered in the air — the constant perfume of Lady Tsunade’s work.

And on the small bed by the window, Hinata Hyuga sat in quiet contemplation, her hand resting protectively over the gentle swell of her stomach.

---

The Weight of Quiet Days

She had been there for many months now.
Her strength had slowly returned, but the old wound near her abdomen still ached when she tried to move too quickly. Tsunade never let her forget it.

“You’re not ready to be wandering around yet,” the older woman would chide, setting a cup of bitter tea beside her. “Your body’s been through death and back. Give it the patience it deserves.”

Hinata would only smile softly, her eyes distant as though she were listening to something beyond the walls.

“I know,” she would whisper. “I just… I want to see him again, that’s all.”

Tsunade rarely pressed. She had learned that Hinata’s heart was as stubborn as her healing flesh — both bruised, both strong enough to endure.

---

Letters Never Sent

When Tsunade next went into the village for supplies, Hinata had made a simple request:
“A notebook and a pen. Please.”

The healer raised an eyebrow. “You planning to write a novel?”

Hinata’s lips curved faintly. “A story. My story. So that he’ll know.”

Tsunade had advised her not to contact the prince in any way—not even through anonymous letters—as such messages could fall into the wrong hands, endangering not only her but also her unborn child, given the gravity of their situation. She wasn’t just pregnant out of wedlock; she was carrying the child of the heir to the Uchiha Empire. The thought weighed heavily on her. She felt terrible for Sasuke, knowing he would blame himself. In truth, she shared that guilt—because that night, when he had pleaded with her to take shelter in the safe room with the others, she had refused. And yet, for the sake of saving the child she found in danger, she would make that same choice a hundred times over.

That evening, when Tsunade returned, Hinata opened the small leather-bound book as though it were a sacred object. The first page trembled beneath her fingers.

She began to write.

At first, her words came haltingly — recounting fragments: the river, the pain, the sound of water and darkness. Then, gradually, she found her rhythm.

Each night, she added more: about Tsunade finding her, the soft golden light that healed her, the moment she woke to find herself alive and with child.

And between those memories, she wrote letters addressed to no one but the man she loved.

“Sasuke, my love… I wonder if you still look at the river the way you did that night. I wonder if you’ve forgiven yourself. I want you to know I never blamed you. The river took me, but it also gave me another reason to live. Our child — your child — grows stronger every day.”

Sometimes she would cry quietly over the pages. Other times, she would smile faintly, whispering his name as if the wind could carry it to him.

Tsunade never read the letters, though she often saw the young woman bent over her book, writing by candlelight long after the fire had died.

---

By her seventh month, Hinata’s belly had grown round and full, her movements slower but more graceful than ever. She often spent her mornings sitting by the window, sunlight pooling around her, both hands resting protectively on the life within her.

Sometimes she spoke aloud — not to Tsunade, not to anyone — but to the small heartbeat she carried.

“You know,” she would murmur softly, “your father used to scowl when he was thinking. Everyone thought he was angry, but I knew better. He was just shy about showing what he felt.”

She chuckled quietly, eyes glimmering. “He’ll look just like you, I think — stubborn, quiet, and brave. But I’ll tell him that you get your heart from me.”

Her voice often trembled at the end.

When Tsunade passed by the window and overheard, she would pause and watch silently. The sight stirred something old and aching in her — a memory of the child she never had, the one her body had refused to carry despite all her power.

That night, she sat by the fire and whispered to herself, “She talks to the baby like I used to talk to the stars.”

---

Whenever Tsunade went into Kawa-no-Mura, she returned with tidings from the outside world.

“The palace has stabilized,” she said one morning while slicing dried lotus root. “Your prince is holding the ceasefire well. Some say he’s the reason the western armies haven’t broken through again.”

Hinata froze mid-motion, her hand on her tea cup. “He’s… still alive?”

Tsunade’s lips softened. “Alive, and by the sound of it, stronger than before. There’s talk of new alliances. The Empire’s trying to end the bloodshed for good.”

Hinata lowered her gaze. “And… him? How is he?”

The healer hesitated before replying. “From what I hear… the prince is not himself. He’s quieter. Some say he spends long hours near the river, alone.”

Hinata’s throat tightened. She pressed her hand against her belly and whispered almost inaudibly, “He thinks I’m gone.”

Tsunade only nodded. “Then let him think you live in his heart for now. That’s safer — for both of you.”

---

In the following weeks, Hinata’s notebook grew thick with pages.

She wrote about the small things:

* The first time the baby kicked while she was drinking jasmine tea.
* The strange craving for sweet rice cakes that Tsunade learned to make just for her.
* The gentle hum of the forest at night, when she would lie awake and imagine Sasuke’s arms around her.

“He would have laughed,” she wrote one evening, “if he knew how often I talk to our baby. Maybe he would have teased me, or smiled that secret way he does when he’s trying not to show it. I miss him more every day, but when I feel this life moving inside me, I feel closer to him than ever before.”

Sometimes she drew — small sketches of the forest, of Tsunade tending the herbs, of the river that had carried her here.

Tsunade kept the house running in quiet devotion. She stopped taking in villagers, claiming her hands were too tired, though the truth was simpler: Hinata and the child had become her world.

At night, she often sat by the fire watching Hinata sleep in her lap, one hand on her stomach. It was a picture of everything Tsunade had lost — and everything she now protected.

---

Yet for all her peace, fear lingered.
Hinata would sometimes wake from dreams she couldn’t fully remember — dreams of fire, of falling, of Sasuke calling her name.

She’d sit upright, gasping, hands clutching her stomach as if to make sure her child was still there.

Tsunade would be at her side in moments, holding a cup of herbal water. “It’s all right. You’re safe.”

“I keep seeing the river,” Hinata whispered one night, tears streaming down her cheeks. “The way it pulled me under. Sometimes I think it’ll come back for me.”

Tsunade brushed the hair from her face. “The river doesn’t take what it means to keep,” she said gently. “You were meant to live, Hinata. You and your child. Don’t question that gift.”

---

That night, after Hinata had fallen asleep, Tsunade stood over her, watching the gentle rise and fall of her breath.

She whispered quietly, almost reverently, “You’re stronger than you think, child. You’ve turned grief into something sacred.”

Her gaze drifted to Hinata’s notebook on the table, the candlelight flickering across its worn cover. She hadn’t read a single page, but she didn’t need to. She could feel what was inside — the kind of love that refused to die, that had survived war, death, and time.

Outside, the river flowed on — calm, steady, eternal.

And within that small cabin by its edge, two hearts beat in rhythm: one of a mother, one of a child.
Both waiting, both hoping, for the day when fate would bring them home.

---

Chapter Text

A little over eight months had passed since the river claimed her.

The palace had long since quieted from the chaos of that night — the screams, the clashing of steel, the fire devouring the skies.

The banners of war had been folded away, the ashes swept from the marble courtyards, but for Prince Sasuke Uchiha, peace had not returned.

He still saw her. Everywhere.

---

The royal corridors were filled once again with the hum of politics — advisors whispering strategies, messengers carrying reports, servants dusting off centuries-old relics of a dynasty that refused to crumble.

But within Sasuke’s quarters, the silence was sacred.

He had ordered Hinata’s chamber preserved exactly as it was. Not a single curtain pulled aside, not a vase moved. The faint trace of lavender she always favored lingered still in the air.

Only Nana, her old “caretaker”, was allowed inside.

She cleaned quietly, with tears in her eyes, whispering small prayers each time she folded the sheets or brushed away the dust from the combs on Hinata’s vanity.

To the rest of the palace, it was a forbidden room — a tomb made of silk and memory.
To Sasuke, it was all that was left of his heart.

At night, when the weight of the crown felt unbearable, he would find himself standing there, fingertips brushing the fabric of her kimono still hanging near the mirror.

He would close his eyes and whisper into the emptiness,
“Hinata… I kept my promise. I’m trying. But gods, it’s harder without you.”

And for a moment, he could almost feel her there — soft as the wind through the open window, silent as the echo of love that refused to fade.

---

Duty didn’t wait for grief.
By day, Sasuke immersed himself in statecraft and negotiations, in the endless parade of alliances that might one day make the Uchiha Empire whole again.

Maps stretched across tables, ink smudged by sleepless fingers. Feudal lords came and went, each with their own demands, their own fears.

The rebellion in the west had been quelled, but the empire still bled from the inside — divided loyalties, bitter farmers, widowed soldiers.

Sasuke attended every council, every meeting, his mind sharp and cold.
He no longer flinched at the mention of war; he simply dissected it.
He learned the art of silence — how to watch, listen, and strike at the right moment.

To those around him, he was becoming everything a future king should be: strong, calculating, unyielding.

To Naruto, he was simply trying to survive.

---

It was in the small garden — the one Hinata had loved most — that Sasuke let himself unravel.

Naruto often found him there after dusk, sitting by the pond where the lotus flowers bloomed. The prince never said much at first, only stared at the reflection of the stars trembling on the water.

Then, slowly, the words would come.

“She used to come here every morning,” Sasuke murmured once, his voice hoarse from disuse. “She said the garden felt alive… that it listened.”

Naruto nodded quietly, his blond hair catching the moonlight. “I remember. She’d drag me here when we were younger, tell me to stop fighting with you.”

A shadow of a smile flickered over Sasuke’s face — brief, broken.
“She’d still be doing that if she were here.”

Silence stretched between them, heavy but not unbearable. Naruto picked up a fallen petal, twirling it between his fingers.

“She’d want you to keep going,” he said gently. “To be the king she believed you could be.”

Sasuke’s gaze didn’t waver from the pond. “She’s the only reason I ever wanted to be one.”

---

As her ninth month drew near, Hinata grew too heavy to write as much. Her hands trembled when she tried to hold the pen. So instead, she spoke her letters aloud.

Every night before sleeping, she sat by the window and looked toward the horizon where the river vanished into the mountains.

“Sasuke,” she whispered. “If I could send this voice to you, I’d tell you not to cry anymore. I’d tell you that our child will be born soon — a piece of us both. Maybe one day, when the wars are over, you’ll find us. Maybe fate isn’t done with us yet.”

The wind moved softly through the trees, and for a moment, she thought she heard his name carried back to her.

She smiled, resting her head on the windowsill. “Until then… I’ll keep writing. I’ll keep living for both of us.”

---

Queen Mikoto had always been a woman of composure — a ruler forged from poise and purpose. But grief changed her son in ways she struggled to understand.

He was distant now — courteous but cold. He refused every proposal, ignored every mention of marriage, and dismissed every noblewoman brought before him.

It wasn’t until the seventh month after Hinata’s disappearance that the silence broke.

They were seated in the royal sitting room, afternoon light filtering through the tall windows. The queen studied her son’s face — pale, drawn, far older than his twenty-five years.

“It’s been long enough, Sasuke,” she began softly. “The kingdom needs stability. You need a future queen.”

Sasuke looked up slowly. “I already had one.”

Mikoto’s composure faltered. “You speak of her as though she—”

“She was and is my queen,” he interrupted, voice low and sharp. “In every way that mattered.”

The queen inhaled quietly. “So it was more than a mere whim, you… truly loved her.”

Sasuke didn’t flinch. “More than my own life.”

There was a long silence between them. The ticking of the clock filled the room.

“She was a servant, Sasuke,” his mother said at last, her voice trembling between reason and sorrow. “A Hyuga at that. You risked not only your name but the stability of this entire empire—”

“She saved this empire!” Sasuke’s hand slammed against the armrest. “She gave her life for it. For me.”

The queen closed her eyes, pain flickering across her regal mask.
“And now she’s gone,” she whispered. “And you must still live.”

Sasuke rose to his feet, his voice breaking with restrained fury.
“I am living, Mother. That’s the problem.”

---

The wind howled across the cliffs that night.
Rain lashed the windows, and thunder rolled far beyond the river. The small cabin flickered with the dim light of oil lamps.
And then — a scream.

“Hold on, Hinata! Stay with me!” Tsunade’s voice thundered over the storm as she pressed down the young woman’s trembling shoulders.

Hinata’s body arched, drenched in sweat, her pale face contorted in pain. The sheets beneath her were soaked. The baby had chosen the cruelest night to arrive — or perhaps, the most fitting. Life always seemed to find her in the edge of storms.

“I can’t—!” she gasped, her breath catching between sobs.
“Yes, you can.” Tsunade’s hands were steady, years of lost practice finding their purpose again. “For your child. For yourself. Push!”

Hinata screamed, her voice shattering into the rain outside. For a moment, she saw nothing but blinding light — and then darkness, and then light again. The pain was unbearable, the world slipping away. Somewhere in that chaos, she whispered,

“Sasuke… help me…”

And then, suddenly —
a sound.
Tiny, sharp, fierce.
The unmistakable cry of a newborn.
Hinata’s body went limp. Her mind felt weightless, floating somewhere between relief and death. She heard Tsunade’s sob of triumph before she felt the warmth of a small body pressed to her chest.

“It’s a boy,” Tsunade said, her voice breaking despite herself. “You have a son.”
Hinata opened her eyes. There he was — small, flushed, wrapped in cloth, his tiny mouth opening to wail again.
He was perfect.

Her fingers shook as she touched his cheek. “He’s real…”
The baby quieted at her touch, his little hand curling around her finger. Her tears fell freely. “My love… you’re here.”

Tsunade wiped her eyes quickly, regaining composure. “Rest now, Hinata. You both need it.”

But as the older woman turned away, her healer’s instincts froze. Hinata’s breathing had slowed, her pulse faint. The wound near her lower abdomen — the one that had nearly killed her months ago — had reopened from the strain.

“No,” Tsunade whispered fiercely. “Not after this.”

She worked through the night — chakra, herbs, ancient mountain prayers — pouring every last drop of her energy into the young woman. It was dawn before she finally collapsed beside the bed.
Hinata still breathed.
The baby slept beside her mother, small chest rising and falling — fragile proof that life had triumphed.

---

Over the next several months, Sasuke threw himself into duty.

He trained with his soldiers, negotiated treaties with neighbouring lands, and rebuilt villages that had fallen during the armed conflicts .
He slept little, ate even less. Every action he took, every decision he made — he told himself it was for her.

When he helped feed starving families, he remembered how Hinata used to sneak bread to the palace servants.
When he ordered new homes built for the displaced, he remembered her dream of a world where no child would grow up in fear.

Every good deed was an echo of her voice guiding him from beyond.

Naruto saw it clearly — how his friend was breaking himself to keep her memory alive.

One night, over an untouched meal in the war room, Naruto said quietly, “She’d be proud, you know.”

Sasuke didn’t look up. “She’d be angry. She told me not to lose myself.”

Naruto sighed. “Maybe finding yourself again is what she wanted.”

---

Then came the news that shattered the fragile balance.

A messenger from the southeastern province arrived breathless and blood-soaked. His words were chaos and horror:
An attack in the dead of night.
Entire villages burned.
Civilians — children — slaughtered without mercy.

Sasuke rode out with his soldiers before dawn.

The devastation he found there was worse than anything the war had shown him.
The smell of smoke and iron still lingered in the air. Bodies lay where they had fallen — mothers clutching children, homes turned to ash.

He walked through the ruins in silence, his hands trembling at his sides.

Naruto approached quietly. “We’ll rebuild, Sasuke. We’ll—”

“No.”

Sasuke’s voice was hollow. “This… this never should have happened. If I had acted sooner, if I’d united the territories when I had the chance…”

Naruto placed a hand on his shoulder. “You can’t carry everything.”

“I already do,” Sasuke whispered. “And I’m not done yet.”

He looked up at the smoke-blackened sky.
For the first time in eight months, he closed his eyes and prayed — not to the gods, but to her.

“Hinata… forgive me. I am not string enough and I can’t keep my promise.”

---

The First Months

The world outside went on — storms, seasons, rumors — but inside the cabin, time stopped.
Hinata’s body had been ravaged by childbirth. She could barely walk without help for weeks, her body thin and weak, but her spirit glowed with a kind of quiet radiance.

Her days became small and tender:
The creak of the cradle.
The soft sound of a baby’s breathing.
The gentle hum of Tsunade preparing medicine nearby.
She named him Aoshi — “Blue serenity.” Beautifully symbolic of Sasuke (blue, calm) and Hinata’s grace. — a name that echoed Sasuke’s but carried its own meaning.

It was her way of giving her son the father’s strength, but his own path too.
There were nights when he wouldn’t stop crying, and Hinata, exhausted and trembling, would rock him for hours, whispering prayers and lullabies from her childhood.
“I know, my love… it’s strange and new. But I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

When she didn’t understand why he cried, Tsunade would smile, patient as ever.
“He’s telling you something only you can learn,” she’d say, adjusting the baby’s wrap. “That’s how motherhood begins.”

Tsunade taught her everything — how to nurse, how to soothe a fever, how to mix herbs safe enough for a baby’s colic.
Hinata often wept quietly when she saw Tsunade hold the child; there was a kind of sacred gentleness in her eyes, the tenderness of a woman who had never known motherhood but cherished every borrowed moment of it.

“You’ve given me something I thought I’d never feel,” Tsunade told her once, rocking Sosuke by the fire. “The sound of a child’s laugh in this house again.”
Hinata smiled softly.

“You saved us. I can never repay that.”
“You already have,” Tsunade replied. “By living.”

---

Her body healed slowly, each day a test of endurance. Tsunade forbade her from heavy tasks, so Hinata spent her hours with Ren.
She learned how to hold him when his cries wouldn’t stop, how to nurse him until he fell asleep with his tiny hand resting against her chest.

Sometimes she laughed when she failed — milk spilling, blankets tangled, her hair an unholy mess — but Tsunade would chuckle and help her, murmuring, “You’re getting it, little mother. You’re getting it.”

Aoshi grew fast. His eyes — storm-dark, like Sasuke’s — followed every movement of light. When Hinata sang to him, his lips curled into what Tsunade swore were smiles.

On the harder nights, when his small body burned with fever or he wouldn’t eat, Hinata’s composure would break.
“What if he stops breathing, Tsunade? What if I can’t—?”
Tsunade would gently take her hand, her voice a steady anchor. “All mothers ask that. You’re not failing. You’re loving.”

The cabin became a cocoon of quiet life. Tsunade’s laughter mingled with the baby’s coos, and for the first time in years, she felt her home was filled with family again.

Chapter Text

The Decision

When he returned to the palace, he walked straight to the queen’s sitting room.

Mikoto looked up from her desk, startled by his expression — the same stillness that marked her late husband before declaring war.

“I will marry Princess Ino,” Sasuke said quietly.

The words hung heavy in the air.

For a long moment, his mother said nothing. Then her hands trembled slightly against the desk. “You’ve… made peace with it?”

“No,” he said simply. “But I’ve accepted it.”

Her eyes searched his face. “You’re not doing this for yourself.”

“I’m doing it for the people,” he replied. “For the crown. For her.”

“For the Hyuga girl?”

“Yes.”

The queen’s lips parted slightly, the weight of his confession settling between them. “You believe this will honor her?”

Sasuke nodded once. “She wanted me to be a king who put the people first. If I have to sacrifice what’s left of me to do that, then so be it.”

He turned to leave, but paused at the door.

“One more thing,” he said without turning back. “This marriage will be political only. I won’t give Ino children. That right… belongs to Hinata, and no one else.

---

The Sacred Room

That night, Sasuke returned to the room that once belonged to her.
He stood at the doorway for a long time, staring into the shadows. The moonlight fell across the empty bed, the soft folds of fabric still draped across the chair.

He stepped inside slowly, the air heavy with her memory.

“She would have laughed at me,” he murmured, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Told me I was being foolish… that I could find peace again. But how do you find peace when your heart’s buried with someone the river took?”

He reached into his tunic and pulled out a small pendant — the one she had gifted him back in their childhood years.

“I’ll keep my promise,” he whispered. “I’ll build the world you wanted. But not for me… for us.”

---

Some days later

The rain hadn’t stopped in three days. It whispered against the palace roofs, dripping through the carved stone gargoyles like a warning from the heavens. Sasuke stood near the window of the council chamber, his reflection divided by the panes — half light, half shadow.

Ino stood several paces behind him, wrapped in a gown of pale blue silk that shimmered faintly under the torchlight. Her hands trembled slightly, but her voice, when she finally spoke, was steady.

“You called for me, Your Highness?”

Sasuke turned slowly, eyes as unreadable as storm glass. “Yes. There’s something you should understand before the announcement.”

Ino’s breath caught. “About… our union?”

He nodded once. The silence stretched. Even the rain outside seemed to pause, waiting.

“I’ll marry you,” he said finally, his tone as cold as steel drawn from a scabbard. “But I will never love you. What binds us will be politics, not affection. I’m doing this for the stability of the kingdom — nothing else.”

The words struck her like arrows, but she kept her chin high.

“You think I don’t know that?” she whispered, eyes narrowing. “You think I don’t understand the game we play?”

Sasuke’s expression didn’t change. “If you did, you wouldn’t dream of changing the rules. My heart belongs to Hinata Hyūga — even in death.”

Her mask cracked — a flicker of fury and envy in the same heartbeat.

“That girl,” she spat softly, the name like venom. “She’s been gone for over a year, and yet you still—”

“Don’t speak of her,” he cut her off, his voice sharp enough to slice through the air. “You will play your role, Ino. Smile before the nobles, stand beside me when I speak. But beyond that, live as you please. Take lovers if you must. Just don’t bring me shame. And never — never bear a child that isn’t mine. I won’t claim what isn’t born of my blood.”

For a moment, the only sound was the rain. Then Ino forced a brittle smile, one that didn’t reach her eyes.

“You’ll learn, Sasuke,” she said. “Even ghosts fade over time.”

He didn’t answer. His gaze had already returned to the window, to the horizon blurred by storm — where duty and regret were indistinguishable.

---

The Sword-Charm

When Aoshi was two months old, Hinata went to the old chest where Tsunade had kept her few belongings. Among them was Sasuke’s sword-charm necklace — the few things from him he had left. The metal gleamed faintly in the firelight, the tiny, nearly visible Uchiha crest still intact.

She sat by the fire for a long time, turning it over in her palm. Memories came in waves — his smile, the feel of his hand in hers, the whispered promises beneath the moonlight.

With trembling fingers, she removed the chain and threaded it through a piece of soft silk Tsunade had given her, shortening it to fit her son’s small neck.

“There,” she whispered, fastening it gently around him. “Now you’ll always have a part of your father. His strength… his fire.”

Aoshi gurgled in response, reaching up toward her face. Hinata laughed through tears, her heart aching and full all at once.


“You even have his eyes,” she murmured. “Dark and kind. He would have loved you so much…”

Tsunade, standing in the doorway, said nothing. She saw the quiet grief in Hinata’s gaze and understood — this was not a woman merely healing; this was a woman learning to love through her wounds.

---

Six Months of Light (Actuality)

By the time Aoshi turned six months, the cabin had become a home.
Hinata was stronger now — her cheeks no longer pale, her steps steady. Every morning, she walked to the riverbank with Aoshi in her arms, showing him the world she’d nearly left behind.

“See that?” she’d whisper. “That’s where we were saved. That’s where Mama learned that miracles still happen.”
The baby giggled at the rushing sound of the water.

Back at the cabin, Tsunade often caught herself smiling as she watched Hinata hum lullabies, or whisper small stories to her son about a prince who once held her hand and dreamed of peace.

But there were days — quiet, heavy ones — when Hinata would stare out the window, lost in thought. “Do you think he’s alright?” she’d ask. “Do you think he’s still looking for me?”

Tsunade’s hands would pause in her work, her expression unreadable. “If he has any heart, he’ll never stop.”
Hinata smiled sadly. “Then I must find him first.”

---

The Farewell

One morning, as dawn painted the sky with pale gold, Hinata made her choice.

“I’m going back,” she said quietly, watching Aoshi play with his blanket. “He needs to know. Sasuke deserves to meet his son.”

Tsunade froze mid-motion, the pestle in her hand hovering over a bowl of herbs. “You’re not fully healed, Hinata.”

“I’ve been healing long enough,” Hinata replied softly. “I can’t stay hidden forever. I owe him the truth.”

Tsunade exhaled heavily, her gaze deep with worry. “The world isn’t kind to women with stories like yours. But if you must go… you won’t go unprepared.”

She spent the next days gathering provisions — herbs, food, money, warm blankets. When the morning of departure came, the cabin felt heavier, as though it, too, dreaded the goodbye.

At the door, Tsunade cupped Hinata’s face in her hands. “You’ve become like a daughter to me. Remember — no matter what happens, you and that child are enough.”

Hinata’s eyes shimmered. “I’ll come back. I promise.”

---

The Journey

The journey to the capital was long and cruel.
Hinata traveled quietly among traders and farmers, her face hidden beneath a hood. Aoshi cried often — the motion of boats, the cold nights, the noise — all foreign to his small body. Each time, Hinata soothed him with soft songs, whispering his father’s name like a prayer.

At night, she’d hold him close under the stars.
“Your father’s beneath this same sky,” she’d murmur. “And soon, we’ll find him.”

After a couple of weeks on the road , not far from the city gates, Hinata stepped off a wooden ferry, clutching her baby to her chest. The hood of her cloak hid her face, but her trembling hands betrayed her exhaustion. Six months of healing, six months of soft lullabies and whispered promises — and now, at last, she was here.

Aoshi stirred, his tiny fingers gripping the charm that hung from his neck — Sasuke’s sword pendant, now reshaped to fit his fragile frame. His eyes, black as midnight, blinked up at her with a calm that mirrored the man she once loved.

She smiled faintly. “We’re home,” she whispered.

But fate waited with cruel timing.

---

The Announcement

By noon, the palace square was filled with nobles and banners. Trumpets echoed through the capital as Sasuke stepped onto the balcony beside Ino. His cloak fluttered in the wind, his expression carved from stone. Below, thousands gathered to witness what they believed to be a celebration of peace.

Naruto stood near the front lines with Shiro, both silent.

“You sure about this?” Naruto muttered.

Sasuke’s jaw tightened. “There’s no other way. The alliance will hold the borders. That’s all that matters.”

Shiro’s eyes flicked toward him — sympathy masked in discipline. “You’ve changed, Your Highness.”

“Not enough,” Sasuke murmured.

Then he raised his hand, and the herald’s voice thundered:

“By royal decree, His Highness, Crown Prince Sasuke of the Uchiha Empire, announces his betrothal to Princess Ino of the Eastern Dominion!”

Applause erupted, a storm of cheers and clashing cymbals. But somewhere among the crowd, hidden beneath a dark hood, Hinata froze.

“What’s happening?”

He grinned. “Haven’t you heard? The prince is to marry Princess Ino! The wedding is today!”

Her breath caught in her throat. The world blurred. She saw him — standing there beside another woman — the same eyes, the same stillness, the same voice she had dreamed of through every sleepless night.

Aoshi whimpered in her arms. She pressed him close, tears burning behind her lashes.

“He’s... he’s marrying her…” she whispered, her voice breaking. “He promised… he promised, Aoshi.”

The baby reached up, touching her cheek as if to calm her, but she could barely see. Her legs gave way, and she stumbled through the crowd, heart pounding so violently she thought it might tear free.

Her world shattered.

“No…” she whispered.

She couldn’t breathe.
Her Sasuke, her love — standing before the world with another woman.

Ino leaned close, smiling, her hand brushing his arm. He didn’t flinch. Didn’t stop her. Didn’t look at the crowd searching for her face.

Hinata turned away, tears blurring her vision. Her arms tightened around Sasuke, whose small hand clutched her cloak.
“Not here,” she whispered, trembling. “Not now…”

---

That night, she found a small hostel at the edge of town. She held her child and cried until her body ached.

“It’s over,” she whispered, voice breaking. “He’s gone… he’s really gone.”

Her baby stirred, reaching toward her face. She kissed his hand gently. “You’re all I need. You’re my reason now.”

By dawn, she was gone — leaving the city, the palace, and the man who once promised forever.

---

A night in the palace had never been so loud, yet so hollow.

Laughter from nobles spilled through the halls like cheap wine, sweet on the surface, bitter underneath. Everywhere Naruto looked, there were banners of silver and blue — the colours of a union meant to bring stability. But to him, they looked like mourning cloth.

He slipped away from the celebration before the banquet even began.

The air outside was cold, sharp enough to bite. From the terrace, he could see the lanterns floating down the river below — offerings for the gods to bless the new royal couple.

A voice called from behind. “You’ll catch a cold, standing out here like that.”

It was Shiro, carrying two cups of sake. Naruto accepted one with a faint nod.

“Can’t celebrate what doesn’t feel right,” he muttered.

Shiro leaned against the stone railing. “You mean Sasuke?”

Naruto gave a hollow chuckle. “He tells everyone it’s for the empire — and maybe it is. But I’ve known that idiot all my life. He’s not the type to survive on duty alone.”

Silence stretched between them. In the distance, the sound of fireworks echoed across the sky — bursts of gold reflected on the river’s black surface.

“He looked… empty,” Shiro said finally. “Like he buried something inside himself.”

“He did,” Naruto whispered. His fingers tightened around the cup. “And I helped him dig the grave.”

Shiro’s gaze flicked to him, puzzled.

“I should’ve stopped him,” Naruto continued. “Told him that Hinata wouldn’t have wanted this. That peace built on sacrifice isn’t peace — it’s just quiet suffering. But every time I tried, he’d look at me with those eyes… and I knew he’d already chosen.”

The wind shifted, carrying the faint scent of rain from the east.

“You think she’s really gone?” Shiro asked softly.

Naruto hesitated. His throat tightened.

“He saw her fall,” he said. “But sometimes… when the wind moves a certain way, or I pass that river… it’s like she’s still there, watching us ruin everything she believed in.”

Neither man spoke after that. The fireworks faded. The cheers from the ballroom turned distant, swallowed by the night.

Naruto stared at the sky, where one last lantern drifted higher than the rest — a single point of light swallowed by the clouds.

“For what it’s worth, Hinata,” he whispered, “I hope you can forgive him. Because he’s breaking in ways none of us can fix.”

---

The Return

Two weeks later, Tsunade opened her cabin door to find Hinata standing there, face pale, eyes swollen, the baby asleep in her arms.

Tsunade’s heart sank. “Oh, child…”
Hinata collapsed into her, sobbing uncontrollably.

When she could finally speak, she told Tsunade everything — the balcony, the cheers, the kiss in his cheeks. Every word tasted like ash.

“I was nothing more than a secret to him,” she whispered bitterly. “A distraction he buried when duty called.”

Tsunade listened, silent, until Hinata’s tears slowed. Then she reached out, brushing a lock of hair from her face. “And yet, from that secret came life. Don’t let his choices steal your light.”

Hinata looked toward the cradle, where Aoshi slept peacefully — the small sword-charm glinting on his chest.

Her heart softened. “He may not have riches or a father’s hand,” she said softly, “but he’ll have mine. That will be enough.”

Outside, the river murmured like a lullaby, its eternal current whispering the truth of her life —
That even in the aftermath of betrayal, love still found a way to live.

Chapter Text

Five years later.

The wind that brushed through the forest smelled of rain and pine.

Aoshi’s laughter broke through the stillness — bright, fleeting, a sound that carried through the trees like birdsong. Hinata watched him run barefoot through the clearing, the hem of his small yukata soaked with morning dew. He was growing fast — too fast, she sometimes thought — and every day he looked a little more like him.

The same sharp eyes, black as raven feathers.
The same stubborn frown when she told him to be careful.
But his smile — that was hers. Gentle. Hopeful. Unbroken by the world.

“Ma! Look!”
Aoshi swung his wooden sword, slicing through air with precision that seemed impossible for his age.

Hinata smiled, though her heart ached with the echo of memory. “Good. But remember — it’s not strength that wins a fight, Aoshi. It’s control.”

He nodded, pretending to listen, then swung again.
From the porch, Tsunade watched with quiet amusement, her once-golden hair streaked silver by time. The years had softened her, but her presence remained commanding — the calm center of Hinata’s fragile new world.

“You’ll have to face it one day,” Tsunade murmured, kneeling beside her.
Hinata blinked. “Face what?”

“That he’s his father’s son,” Tsunade said, her tone neither cruel nor kind. “You’ve given him peace, but blood has a way of calling back what it’s owed.”

Hinata’s gaze dropped to the child, now twirling his sword in the same stance Sasuke once showed her.
“I know,” she whispered. “But I still hope… he can have a life free from the pain that made his father who he is.”

Tsunade didn’t answer. The silence between them was heavy, yet familiar — like an old friend that visited too often.

---

Meanwhile, in the palace…

The great hall was quiet except for the scratching of a quill. Sasuke sat behind his desk, surrounded by scrolls, maps, and unending reports. He had grown into the man his father once wanted him to be — composed, strategic, merciless when needed.

Yet in moments between duty, his eyes would wander toward the balcony, where the sunlight touched the garden she used to tend.

Behind him, the door opened.
“Still buried in papers, my lord?”

It was Ino, her voice smooth, practiced — but brittle underneath. The years had polished her beauty, yet dulled her warmth. She moved like a woman trapped inside a golden cage, every step echoing with frustration.

“State your reason for being here,” Sasuke said, not lifting his eyes.

She smirked, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “Must I have one to see my husband?”

He looked up then — calm, cold, unyielding. “Yes.”

The word hit harder than any insult could.
For a moment, her façade cracked. “It’s been five years, Sasuke. Five. Do you really intend to live like strangers forever?”

“I intend,” he replied, “to live without lies.”

“And what about the kingdom’s rumors? That you’re cursed? Impotent?” she snapped. “Do you think that honors the Uchiha name?”

He stood then, his presence like a storm contained in human form. “Let them talk. The bloodline will not continue with deceit.”

She took a trembling breath. “You still think of her, don’t you?”

The silence that followed was her answer.

Ino’s jaw tightened. “You’ll destroy yourself clinging to a ghost.”

Sasuke’s eyes drifted toward the window — toward the river that stretched beyond the palace walls. “Then let me burn with it. It’s the only warmth I deserve.”

---

Back in the woods, the rain began to fall.
Hinata rushed out to gather the drying herbs, calling Aoshi inside. He came running, laughter bubbling as thunder rolled in the distance.

“Ma, it’s just rain!” he protested.

She laughed softly — that sound that had once melted Sasuke’s armor of pride — and wrapped him in a towel.
When he looked up at her, water dripping from his bangs, she saw the world she’d lost… and the one she’d built in its place.

That night, when the boy finally slept, Hinata sat by the window with her notebook — the one she’d started when she was pregnant. She opened a new page.

*Five years today. Aoshi’s first word was ‘sky’. He says it’s because it never stops, no matter how far it goes.

Outside, the rain eased into a whisper.
Far away, in the palace, Sasuke stood by his own window, his hand resting over his heart where he still kept her necklace— frayed, but unforgotten.

Two worlds apart, both whispered the same name into the night.
“Hinata.”
“Aoshi.”

And though neither could hear the other, the wind carried the sound between them — like a promise that refused to die.

---

Morning arrived softly in the woods — the kind that crept in through the cracks of the cabin, brushing over wooden walls like a secret.

The first sounds were always the same: the gentle stir of leaves, the distant flow of the river, and the laughter of a small boy chasing after the golden light that spilled across the floorboards.

Hinata stirred at the sound, half-asleep, half-smiling.

Aoshi’s giggles echoed through the cabin as he chased a moth, his tiny feet pattering against the old wood. He was growing faster than she could keep up — taller, surer, his movements precise in a way that reminded her far too much of someone she tried not to think about.

From the corner of the cabin, Tsunade’s voice rose above the crackle of the fire.

“Careful, Aoshi. If you fall, I won’t be fixing splinters before breakfast.”

Her tone was stern, but her eyes softened as she watched the child.

The morning always began this way — quietly, rhythmically. Hinata would heat water for tea while Tsunade tended to the herbs hanging above the stove. Aoshi would sit at the table, his chin resting on his hands, watching everything with sharp, observant eyes that missed nothing.

Those eyes — black as ink, deep as midnight — carried the weight of another world.

Tsunade had noticed it before anyone.

“That gaze,” she once said softly, watching Aoshi examine the blade of a small wooden stick, “doesn’t come from your side of the family, child.”

Hinata had smiled then, faint and sad. “No… it doesn’t.”

Aoshi was patient in ways that no child his age should be. He rarely threw tantrums. Instead, he’d watch, learn, and act with quiet determination. When Hinata taught him how to balance on the wooden beam outside the cabin, he didn’t give up after falling once. Or twice. Or ten times. He just stood up again, brushing the dirt from his knees, the same stubborn glint in his eyes that once belonged to his father.

Sometimes, when she saw that look, her heart ached in silence.

---

The days blurred into seasons.

They lived simply, but not unhappily.

Each morning, Hinata and Aoshi would walk to the riverbank where the grass grew tall and soft. She taught him how to wash herbs, how to read the flow of water to find the cleanest parts, how to listen to nature — really listen. Aoshi would crouch beside her, mimicking every motion, his hands small and precise, his brow furrowed like Sasuke’s when he concentrated.

He’d ask questions endlessly — about the stars, about the old “big house” she never mentioned, about the man in the drawings she sometimes forgot to hide.

“Ma,” he asked one day, tracing the edge of a half-finished sketch. “Who is he?”

Hinata froze. The drawing was faint — a man’s silhouette under a tree, the faint line of a smile that wasn’t quite finished.

She took the paper from his hand gently. “He was… someone important,” she whispered.

Aoshi tilted his head, studying her. “Like Grandpa?”

Her lips quivered at the innocent question. “Yes,” she said after a long silence. “Just like that.”

He accepted it without another word, though his eyes — those same charcoal-black eyes — lingered on her longer than usual, as if he somehow knew there was more to the story.

---

In the afternoons, Hinata would practice sword forms in the clearing behind the cabin. It was a ritual she had kept alive all these years — part training, part memory.

The wooden sword had dulled with time, but every swing still carried the ghost of his presence — the way Sasuke had stood behind her, correcting her grip, his voice low against her ear.

Aoshi often watched her from the steps, eyes wide, mimicking the movements with his stick.

When she finally let him try, his form was clumsy at first, but his focus — unshakable. By the time he turned six, he had mastered the basic stances. By ten, his precision had begun to rival hers.

Tsunade watched one day from the window, shaking her head with a fond sigh.

“He’s going to be something extraordinary,” she murmured. “It’s in his blood.”

Hinata didn’t answer. She only smiled faintly, her heart caught somewhere between pride and sorrow.

---

Nights in the cabin were the hardest.

When the world grew quiet and the river whispered its endless lullaby, Hinata often found herself sitting by the small wooden table, writing in her journal — pages filled with inked memories and unsent words.

She wrote about Aoshi’s first word, his first fever, the way he laughed when he caught snowflakes in his hands.

And between those lines, she wrote about Sasuke — she would tell herself she shouldn’t, but it just seemed to come to her, how she wished things would have gone differently, that he could have see the life they’d made, the boy that carried his eyes, his strength, his silence.

Sometimes, her tears would fall on the paper, smudging the ink.

Sometimes, she’d whisper to the night, “I kept my promise, Sasuke. I became strong. For him… for us.”

When the moonlight touched the floor, she’d go to Aoshi’s bedside. He always slept facing the window, one hand curled under his cheek. His lashes were long, his breathing steady, peaceful — and every night, she’d see the faintest reflection of Sasuke in that small, sleeping face.

“You’re the proof he existed beyond my memories,” she whispered one night, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead.

Tsunade found her there once, still awake, still lost in the quiet ache of the past.

“Don’t stay up too long,” she murmured, placing a hand on Hinata’s shoulder. “You’ll wake up hollow if you let yesterday live rent-free in your heart.”

Hinata smiled weakly. “He’s not yesterday,” she said softly. “He’s still here. In every piece of him I see when Aoshi smiles.”

Tsunade didn’t argue. She just sighed and placed a blanket around her shoulders before heading back to her room.

---

The days passed — gentle, slow, healing.

Aoshi grew taller. The seasons changed again. And though Hinata’s heart never fully healed, it found new meaning in every laugh, every embrace, every morning light spilling through the same old cracks of their little cabin.

In the quiet corners of the world, far from palaces and crowns, love endured — not in the grand gestures of fate, but in the small, steady beats of a mother’s heart.

And on nights when the wind howled softly through the trees, Hinata would close her eyes and imagine Sasuke standing by the river, looking up at the same moon.

Maybe, somewhere in his world, he still felt her too.

Chapter Text

The years had not softened Sasuke.

If anything, they had turned his silence into armor.

Fourteen winters had passed since his marriage to Ino, and the halls of the Twin Palace felt emptier with each season. The Queen walked them in silk and jewels, but the King’s gaze never followed. Every morning began the same — political councils, signed decrees, the careful maintenance of peace that came not from joy but necessity.

When the sun broke through his chamber window, Sasuke often found himself staring at the light rather than rising. It wasn’t laziness; it was memory.

He would remember her.

The sound of Hinata’s laughter, fragile as wind chimes. The warmth of her hand slipping into his beneath the sakura trees. How she had once leaned against him under the old bridge and whispered, “You don’t always have to be strong, Sasuke. You just have to be here.”

Now, even the silence left in her absence felt sacred.

Ino had stopped trying to reach him years ago. She wore her crown proudly in public, played the part of the loving consort, but behind closed doors, their words were cold and brief — negotiations more than conversations. She often accused him of living with a ghost. He never denied it.

Sometimes, when she screamed that he had no heart left to give, Sasuke would simply turn away, his voice quiet but steady.

“I told you before,” he’d say. “You were never meant to replace her.”

He still visited the river when he could — the same one where her body had disappeared beneath the current. He stood there in silence, his reflection distorted by the rippling water.

He never cried. He simply watched.
As if by staring long enough, the past might rise again.

---

Far from the palace — beyond its towers and noise — the forest lived in a different rhythm.

Hinata now worked more frequently as Tsunade’s hands had grown slower with age. Her fingers were still steady, but her bones ached when the rains came, so Hinata took on most of the healing work: gathering herbs, brewing medicine, treating the farmers who came with old wounds and tired eyes.

It gave her purpose. It gave her distance.

Aoshi had grown into a young man — tall, lean, with the same quiet presence that once defined Sasuke. His eyes, black and sharp, carried a watchful calm beyond his years. He was gentle with animals, careful with his words, but fierce when he trained.

Every morning, before the sun rose, the sound of steel slicing through air echoed through the trees. Aoshi practiced the sword form his mother had taught him — her form, her rhythm, but refined by his own instinct. The wooden blade became an extension of his thoughts, and though Hinata corrected him when he faltered, she could barely keep up with him anymore.

There was pride in her eyes, but also fear.
Because each day he moved more like him.

Sometimes, when he rested after training, Aoshi would watch the horizon and ask softly,“Ma… if he was the one who taught you all this, then why did he leave?”

Hinata always hesitated. She’d smile, sad and patient, and say,
“Sometimes… people don’t leave because they want to. Sometimes they leave because they must.”

That answer never satisfied him, but he never pressed her. He’d simply nod and whisper, “Then I’ll just be strong enough for both of us.”

It was after his thirteenth summer that Aoshi began attending the “Crown Recruitment Festival”— not as a participant, but as an onlooker. It was a week-long event at a weeks distance from where they lived in the woods, that gathered the empire’s most promising young fighters, many hoping for a place among the Royal Guard.

Hinata hated the idea from the start. She’d seen too much war, too much loss.
And more than anything, she feared the risk — his risk.
The face, the eyes, the silent strength… he was too much like Sasuke. Too much like the King.

She could not bear the thought of anyone noticing.

But Aoshi went anyway, with the same quiet resolve that once lived in his father’s soul. He couldn’t participate — he wasn’t noble-born, didn’t have the coin or name. Yet fate smiled strangely that year.

He won a small raffle from the local town hall — a servant’s contract for the festival. Cleaning weapons, maintaining the training tents, fetching water. In exchange, he’d be allowed to stay nearby and watch the competitions.

The evening before Aoshi’s departure carried the hush of early autumn — the kind of stillness that wrapped the forest in soft gold. Hinata sat by the low table, her hands busy tying the small satchel that held her son’s belongings: a spare tunic, his worn sandals, a little pouch of herbs Tsunade had prepared “just in case.”

Aoshi was outside, practicing his footwork even after the sun had disappeared. She could hear the rhythm of his steps in the dirt — measured, patient, steady. Every strike echoed through the quiet, a heartbeat she had learned to love and fear in equal measure.

Tsunade sat nearby, watching Hinata from her chair with knowing eyes. “You’re not going to sleep tonight, are you?”

Hinata smiled faintly. “Probably not.”

“You’ve raised him well, Hoshi. The boy’s ready to see the world.”

“I know.” Her voice trembled despite the smile. “It’s just… the world isn’t always kind.”

Tsunade leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “The King and his guards don’t attend those recruitment festivals. It’s beneath the crown, all that ceremony and noise. You’ve nothing to fear. Your boy will be fine.”

Hinata nodded slowly, her gaze drifting toward the small wooden chest at the edge of the room. She reached for it, opening it carefully. Inside lay a single object — a bracelet made of thin silver cords, its surface dulled with time. A twin of the necklace Sasuke had.

She hadn’t touched it in months. Years, maybe. But every time she thought of letting it go, something inside her refused.

Her fingers brushed the cool metal, and the memories came unbidden — his hand sliding it onto her wrist, his soft, almost embarrassed laugh when she’d teased him about matching jewelry.

“Then it’s a promise,”he’d said that day. “No matter what happens, this will remind you I’m always with you.”

The promise had shattered long ago, yet she still wore it. Because Hinata had always believed that keeping a promise — even a broken one — said more about the heart than the outcome ever could.

Sometimes, when Aoshi asked her why she never took it off, she told him it reminded her of courage.

Other times, when she couldn’t find the words, she simply smiled and said, “Because it belongs to someone who taught me how to keep my word.”

She fastened the bracelet back onto her wrist now, tightening the knot.

The door slid open quietly, and Aoshi stepped inside, sweat dampening his forehead. He wiped his face on his sleeve and sat down beside her.

“I’m done training for today,” he said softly.

Hinata reached up to brush a stray lock from his hair — the same dark blue-black that once caught the light in Sasuke’s eyes.
“Good,” she whispered. “You’ll need your strength for tomorrow.”

He smiled. “I’ll be fine, Ma. You worry too much.”

“I know.” Her eyes softened. “It’s a mother’s job.”

They sat in silence for a while, the only sound the cicadas singing outside. Then Hinata reached for his hand.

“You’ll see a lot of things at the festival,” she said. “But remember — your worth isn’t decided by who sees you fight. It’s in the heart behind the blade.”

Aoshi nodded, though she could see the spark of ambition in his gaze — the same quiet fire that once drew her to Sasuke.

When he finally went to bed, Hinata lingered by the window, looking out into the forest where the moonlight shimmered across the leaves. Her hand brushed the bracelet again.

“No,” she whispered into the dark, as if trying to convince herself. “He won’t be there. He never goes to those events.”

And for the first time in years, she let herself believe that was true.

Because if she didn’t — she knew her heart might not survive it.
---

The festival was grander than Aoshi had imagined.
Rows of tents shimmered beneath the sun, the sound of swords and laughter filling the air. Young men trained with wooden weapons while spectators cheered from the stands.

Aoshi spent most of his time working quietly — wiping blades, repairing practice armor, listening to instructors bark orders. Yet even from the sidelines, his sharp eyes studied every move, every stance.

It was on the second day that he met him.

Naruto had been wandering the grounds, taking a rare break from his official duties. Festivals always filled him with nostalgia — memories of the days when the world was smaller and dreams were simple.

As Aoshi swept the dust from the tent floor, a tall blond man ducked inside, grinning.

“You’re the kid helping with the weapons, huh?” Naruto’s voice was bright, easy. “You’ve got good form with that broom — maybe you should try a sword.”

Aoshi didn’t even look up. “I’d probably break it, old man.”

Naruto froze mid-step. Old man? The smirk, the cool tone, the dark eyes that glinted with quiet mischief — it was like déjà vu.

He tilted his head, watching the boy tie back his dark hair with practiced precision. “What’s your name, kid?”

“Aoshi,” came the simple reply. “Aoshi Hyuga.”

Hyuga, huh?” Naruto’s grin faltered. He studied him closer — the shape of his face, the way his hand rested naturally near the hilt of a blade lying beside him. “You like swords?”

“I don’t just like them,” the boy said. “They remind me of my mom. She taught me everything I know.”

“Your mom taught you how to fight?” Naruto asked casually, though his chest tightened without knowing why.

Aoshi looked up, finally meeting his gaze. “She taught me everything I know.”

Something in Naruto stilled — the weight of those words, the quiet certainty in them. He wanted to let it go, but old instincts tugged at him. He’d learned to trust those feelings.

He grinned suddenly. “Alright then, Aoshi Hyuga. Show me what she taught you.”

The boy blinked. “What?”

Naruto grabbed a wooden practice sword from the rack beside them and tossed another one Aoshi’s way. “Just a little spar. Humor an old man, yeah?”

Aoshi hesitated — then his lips curved into a faint smirk that looked achingly familiar. “You asked for it.”

They took their stances in the open patch outside the tent. A few passing trainees slowed to watch. Naruto’s grin was easy, teasing — until the first clash.

Aoshi moved fast. Not with brute strength, but with precision — his footwork tight, his strikes clean, his balance impeccable. There was no wasted motion, no nervousness. He fought the way someone raised around blades fought — like each breath already knew its place in the rhythm.

Naruto parried, half-laughing at first, until the boy feinted left and pivoted with a turn so sharp it caught Naruto off guard. He barely blocked in time.

“Whoa—!” Naruto stumbled back, blinking. “You’ve got skill, kid!”

Aoshi lowered his weapon, panting lightly but composed. “You told me to show you.”

Naruto stared, stunned — not by the technique alone, but the way it looked. That stance, that turn, the control in the wrist before a strike — he’d seen it before. A hundred times. In every spar, every battle fought beside Sasuke.

He swallowed, studying the boy anew. “Where’d you learn to move like that ?”

Aoshi tilted his head. “My mother taught me, I already told you, she’s the best.”

Naruto’s fingers tightened on the wooden sword. He wanted to laugh — to deny the thought forming in his head — but he couldn’t shake it.

That movement. That calm precision wrapped in quiet fire.

The same style that once defined Sasuke.

He handed the practice sword back, still smiling, though his thoughts raced. “You’re good, Aoshi. Real good.”

“Thanks,” Aoshi said, wiping his brow with the back of his arm.

When Naruto left the tent that evening, the sunset burned low across the fields, and something inside him ached — a faint, impossible recognition he couldn’t explain.

Later, when he mentioned the encounter to Sasuke, the King only raised a brow.

“A kid who looks like me? You’re seeing things.”

“Maybe,” Naruto said, though a grin tugged at his lips. “But he moves like you too.”

---

It was the third day when he saw him.

The tournament’s second round had ended. Sasuke stood on the observation deck, silent, unreadable — until his gaze caught on a figure below, standing beside the weapons tent.

A boy, barely fourteen or fifteen.
Dark hair. Eyes black as coal.
A stance too familiar to ignore.

Something in Sasuke’s chest stilled.

The world around him blurred — the crowd, the noise, the banners. He saw only the boy, his quiet composure, his calm, deliberate movements as he carried the swords from the training ring.

For one heartbeat, Sasuke forgot to breathe.
It can’t be, he thought.

And yet — the resemblance was undeniable.
Not just in the face.
But in the way the boy carried his silence — like a burden, like a legacy.

As the day’s events ended, Sasuke and Naruto made their way toward the tents.
And for the first time in years, the King’s heart trembled — not with love, but with the quiet, unspoken terror of recognition.

---

Chapter Text

He was crouched by a rack of polished swords when a shadow fell over him.
“Hey, old man, you blocking the sun for a reason?”

The voice that answered him was calm, low, with an authority that seemed to quiet the air.
“Old man?”

Aoshi looked up — and blinked. The man standing before him was dressed simply, in travel-worn robes, but there was something off about him. The air around him seemed too still, his gaze too piercing.

Aoshi scratched his head awkwardly. “Uh— sorry, sir. Didn’t mean it like that. You just... looked like one from the angle.”

Behind the stranger, a blond man snorted. “Oh, this is gonna be good…hey kid”

“Oh hi there!” Responded Aoshi back recognising him from the conversation they had the day before.

Sasuke didn’t look away. His stare lingered — something about the boy’s tone, his casual confidence, it stirred a flicker of familiarity. “You should be careful who you call old, boy.”

Aoshi shrugged. “Then don’t look like one.”

Naruto couldn’t help but laugh this time. “Kid’s got guts, I’ll give him that.”

Sasuke’s gaze sharpened, then softened faintly in bemusement. “Do you even know who you’re talking to?”

“No idea,” Aoshi replied honestly. “You one of the judges or something?”

“I’m the King,” Sasuke said.

Aoshi blinked. Then grinned. “Sure you are.”

“I am,” Sasuke said flatly.

“Right. And I’m the lost prince of the northern mountains.”

Naruto had to turn away, shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter.

Sasuke’s jaw twitched — not from anger, but from a kind of disbelief. The boy’s irreverence reminded him so vividly of… her. Of Hinata when she teased him once under the moonlight, whispering, “Even kings can trip over roots, Sasuke.”

He exhaled. “Naruto told me there’s someone here who fights well,” he said finally. “A boy who wasn’t allowed to compete because of his background.”

“That’d be me,” Aoshi said proudly. “But I’m fine just watching.”

Sasuke tilted his head. “Then indulge me. A simple match. You win — anything you want. You lose — you come under my tutelage depending on how good you demonstrate you are.”

“Tutelage?” Aoshi repeated, skeptical. “You really take this king thing seriously, huh?”

Sasuke smirked. “You’ll believe me soon enough.”

---

They faced each other on the training field, dust swirling under their feet as a small crowd gathered, curious.
Naruto leaned against a post, grinning. “You sure about this, Sasuke? He’s a kid.”

Sasuke didn’t answer. He raised his blade. “Show me.”

The boy blinked, surprised that he knew his name, but shrugged. “Fine. Don’t say I didn’t warn you, old man.”

Naruto’s eyebrows shot up. “This kid’s killing me.”

But Sasuke didn’t laugh.
His gaze lingered on Aoshi — on every line of his face, every echo of the past written across it.

And for the first time in years, something in Sasuke Uchiha broke silently inside him.

Aoshi moved first — fast, sharp, unpredictable. Sasuke parried, each blow echoing through the air like thunder. The boy’s technique was raw but familiar, every strike echoing a ghost of something he once knew.

And then — it happened.

Aoshi spun low, blade sweeping in that same perfect crescent. The signature move.
Hinata’s move.

The sound of clashing wood faded for Sasuke as the world tilted.
He saw her again — her soft smile, her laughter, and the faint blush in her cheeks when he teasingly said to her they would pass down the move to their future children. When she'd once said, "Until then, I’ll keep it a secret."

His hand trembled.
When he blocked the next strike, his eyes were wide — and wet.

“Where,” he asked quietly, “did you learn that?”

“My mom,” Aoshi said, catching his breath. “She taught me everything. She said her old friend gave her that technique.”

“Your mother’s name,” Sasuke pressed. “What is it?”

Aoshi tilted his head. “Hoshi Hyuga.”

Sasuke froze. The name struck him like lightning. Hoshi — a star. Hinata had once told him, ‘If I ever have to hide, I’ll be a star in the dark. You’ll find me when you look up.’

A chill ran through him. His chest tightened painfully.

Aoshi frowned. “Are you alright, old man?”

Sasuke swallowed. “Yes,” he whispered, forcing himself to stand straight. “You fought well.”

He sheathed his sword. “We’re done.”

Aoshi blinked. “So… who won?”

Sasuke’s voice was low, distant. “Not me.”

He turned away before the boy could see the tears that had gathered in his eyes.

As he walked from the arena, Naruto was waiting, arms crossed.
“So? Still think I was seeing things?”

Sasuke didn’t answer. His gaze lingered on the tent behind him, where the boy still stood — a mirror of himself, of her.

That night, beneath a pale moon, Sasuke stood by the riverside outside the town. His hand brushed over the charm still hidden beneath his cloak — the necklace to the bracelet Hinata once wore.

He looked up at the stars.
Somewhere far away, in a quiet cabin surrounded by whispering trees, Hinata looked at that same sky, clutching the same bracelet, her son asleep beside her.

Neither spoke, but both felt it —
that tremor, that pull, that unspoken truth beginning to awaken.

The river that once took her away now seemed to murmur her name again.
And in the stillness of the night, Sasuke whispered it back.

“Hinata…”

---

That night, far away in the quiet of the cabin, Hinata stirred from her sleep.
Her hand brushed against the bracelet on her wrist.
A strange ache bloomed in her chest — one she couldn’t name, but one that felt achingly familiar.

“Aoshi,” she whispered into the dark, her voice trembling slightly.
“Please come home safe.”

Outside, the wind carried the faint echo of steel — the sound of fate drawing its blade again.

---

Chapter Text

The festival had ended, but Sasuke could not rest.

The image of the boy haunted him — not for his skill, but for the way he moved, the way his eyes burned with quiet fire, the way that single sword stroke had split open years of silence in Sasuke’s heart.

He found Aoshi the following morning by the stables, brushing down a tired horse with his sleeves rolled up. The boy straightened when he noticed the King’s presence, his usual confident grin faltering for the first time.

“Old man— uh, Your Majesty,” he corrected awkwardly.

Sasuke’s lips twitched. “So you finally believe me.”

Aoshi scratched the back of his neck. “Naruto told me you were serious. Guess I owe you an apology.”

“Consider it forgiven,” Sasuke said, stepping closer. “I came to make you an offer.”

Aoshi blinked. “An offer?”

“I meant what I said,” Sasuke continued, voice low and steady. “You have potential. Skill. Determination. I want you to train under my wing — officially. But before I can allow that, I must meet your family.”

The boy hesitated, glancing toward the distant woods beyond the horizon. “My mom? She’s… she’s not used to fancy visitors. We live a simple life.”

“All the more reason to meet her,” Naruto chimed in, hands behind his head. “Don’t worry, kid, we don’t bite.”

Aoshi frowned in disbelief. “You’re the King and you want to ride to my house? That’s like… days away!”

Sasuke looked at him evenly. “I am the King,” he said simply. “I can go wherever I choose.”

---

The journey began at dawn.

What should have taken a week took only three days under royal command — three days and two long nights that would shake the quiet peace Hinata Hyuga had built for over a decade.

The first day passed in cautious conversation. Aoshi rode between Naruto and Sasuke, his excitement battling against a faint unease. He spoke freely, laughing easily, unaware of the storm churning in the King’s mind.

Sasuke listened to every word.

“So,” he asked casually one evening as the forest deepened around them, “your mother… Hoshi, was it? What does she do?”

“She’s a healer,” Aoshi said proudly. “She learned from Lady Tsunade. The best there is, if you ask me.”

Sasuke’s fingers tightened on the reins. Tsunade. The name struck a chord. He’d heard once, years ago, that the old healer had vanished to the western woods.

“And your father?”

Aoshi’s tone softened. “I don’t know him. Mom says he was a good man once. Brave. But… he’s gone. That’s all she ever says.”

Naruto shot Sasuke a worried glance, sensing the question that almost slipped from his friend’s mouth — Does your mother ever speak his name?

Sasuke stayed silent.

---

By the second night, the air had grown colder.
They’d set up camp near a shallow river, the same silver hue that haunted Sasuke’s dreams. The fire crackled between them, painting their faces in amber.

Aoshi was already asleep, curled up near his pack, his hair spilling across his brow. Naruto poked the flames idly with a stick.

“You think it’s really her?” he asked softly.

Sasuke didn’t answer right away. His eyes were on the boy’s sleeping form — the peaceful rise and fall of his chest, the faint glimmer of something around his neck.

“I don’t know,” Sasuke murmured. “But every time I look at him… I feel like I’m staring at a ghost.”

Naruto sighed, shaking his head. “If it is her, then fate’s got one hell of a sense of humor.”

When Naruto finally drifted off, Sasuke stayed awake. The forest hummed with distant cicadas. Slowly, almost unwillingly, he stood and crossed the small clearing.

He knelt beside the boy.
The faint light of the fire caught the edge of something metallic beneath Aoshi’s collar.

A charm.

Sasuke froze. His hand trembled as he reached for it, pulling it gently into view.
It was an old necklace, the silver worn smooth by years of touch — but the shape, the tiny engraved fan, the small stone set in its center…

He remembered it instantly.
He’d given it to Hinata on her fifteenth birthday, the day she’d turned red as a flame because he’d said it matched her eyes.

His breath hitched. The world spun. Every wall he’d built around his heart cracked open.

It was hers.
It could only be hers.

He swallowed hard, forcing the storm inside him into silence. He tucked the charm gently back beneath the boy’s shirt, his eyes glistening in the faint light.

Then he turned his face to the night sky and whispered hoarsely,
“…Hina…ta…”

---

The following afternoon, the forest began to open up. The scent of pine gave way to lavender and rain-soaked earth.

Aoshi rode ahead, excitement buzzing through him. “We’re almost there!” he said, turning toward the two men. “It’s not much, but it’s home. Please… just stay a little back, yeah? I wanna surprise her.”

Sasuke nodded wordlessly. His heart felt like it was being wrung out, drop by drop.

They dismounted near the edge of the clearing. The small cabin came into view — smoke curling lazily from the chimney, herbs hanging from the windows, the air filled with the sound of cicadas and wind.

Outside, the river glimmered. A woman stood by its bank, her sleeves rolled up, wringing out wet fabric in the afternoon sun.

Her hair, still the same dark indigo, gleamed in the light. Her figure, slender yet strong, moved with a quiet grace that no time could erase.

When Aoshi saw her, he broke into a run.
“Ma!”

She looked up — startled, then radiant. She barely had time to set the bucket down before he reached her, lifting her off her feet, spinning her as she laughed breathlessly.

“Aoshi! You scared me—oh, look at you baby, you’ve grown again!”

He laughed, burying his face against her neck like a child again. “I missed you, Mama. I have news. Big news!”

Hinata smiled, brushing his hair from his face, her lavender eyes gleaming with love. “News? What kind of news?”

“That’s what I was about to say!” Aoshi said proudly. “I brought some people with me. They’re… kinda important.”

“Important?” she asked, bemused.

He turned toward the trees and shouted, “You can come out now!”

Two figures stepped into the light.

Hinata’s smile froze.
The bucket slipped from her hand, splashing water across the stones.

For a moment, the world held its breath.

Sasuke stood there — older, colder, dressed in royal black, yet heartbreakingly familiar.
Their eyes met.

Lavender met onyx.
Fifteen years of silence shattered in a single glance.

Sasuke’s lips parted, soundless.
Hinata’s hands trembled against her chest, the bracelet she’d never taken off catching the light.

Neither moved.
The river whispered between them — the same river that once tore them apart — now bearing witness to their reunion.

And somewhere behind them, the boy who was both of them stood watching, confused by the sudden, sacred stillness that had fallen over his world.

---

Chapter Text

For a moment, no one breathed.

The wind caught in the trees, the river shimmered in the afternoon light, and three fates — once torn apart — stood again in the same place.

Sasuke couldn’t speak.

He had imagined her countless times — in dreams, in the silence between sleepless nights — but the reality of her standing before him stole every word from his throat.

Her hair was longer now, streaked by the sun, her face softer, her eyes the same shade of lavender that used to undo him with a single glance.

Hinata’s lips parted, her gaze flickering between Sasuke and Naruto.
Her heart thundered painfully, but her mind screamed only one thing: Aoshi. Protect him.

She took a single step back, clutching her son’s arm as though the ground itself had tilted beneath her.

“Good afternoon,” she said softly, voice steady but distant — formal, polite, as if to strangers. “You must be travelers. My son sometimes brings guests from town.”

Aoshi blinked, confused. “Guests? Mama, they’re—”

“Shh.” Her hand found his shoulder, a little too tight. She smiled, the kind that hides terror behind gentleness. “You must be tired. Please, come in. I’ll fetch tea.”

Naruto’s mouth opened, his eyes wide with disbelief — but Sasuke’s hand caught his arm, a silent command.
Not now.

Sasuke’s jaw tightened. He could see her trembling — the slight quiver in her fingers, the way she avoided his gaze as though looking too long would break something inside her.

He wanted to speak her name.
He wanted to demand why.
But all that came out was silence.

Hinata turned, gathering the bucket she had dropped, trying to compose herself, to breathe — but the moment her fingers brushed the cold handle, her vision blurred.

Her heart hammered once — twice — then everything tilted sideways.

“Ma!”

Aoshi barely caught her before she hit the ground.

“Mom! What’s happening?!” His voice cracked, frantic.

Sasuke’s eyes widened, instinct taking over — he started forward, but stopped himself halfway, his fists tightening at his sides. Naruto knelt beside the boy, checking her pulse.

“She’s fainted,” he said quickly. “Probably shock — maybe exhaustion. Quick, Aoshi, take her inside.”

The boy’s arms shook, but he lifted her as best he could, his eyes wide and terrified.
“Grandma! Grandma, help!” he shouted, disappearing into the cabin.

The door slammed behind them, leaving the clearing in stillness again — only the murmur of the river filling the heavy silence.

Naruto stood, exhaling shakily. “Sasuke…”

But Sasuke didn’t answer.

He was still staring at the spot where she had stood — the way her voice had trembled, the way she had pretended not to know him, the way she’d called him traveler.

Every muscle in his body ached to run after her, to shake the truth out of the fragile walls she’d built, but he stayed rooted in place.

“Fifteen years,” he murmured, his voice barely audible.

Naruto turned toward him, uncertain.

Sasuke’s expression cracked, just barely — a flash of something raw, almost human, before his composure returned.

“She’s alive,” he whispered, and this time, the words trembled. “She’s alive.”

Naruto exhaled, his own throat tight.

“Then Aoshi…?”

Sasuke didn’t answer. His hand fell to his side — to the weight of the necklace he had hidden in his pocket since that night — the charm she had once gifted him.

A war raged inside him.
Anger at her silence.
Betrayal for the years lost.
Grief for everything he thought had died.
And beneath it all — a crushing, overwhelming relief.

He turned his face toward the cabin, toward the faint light spilling from the windows, and whispered under his breath,

“Why didn’t you tell me, Hinata?”

The wind rustled through the trees, carrying with it the sound of the river — the same river that once took her from him — and now, perhaps, brought her back.

---

The scent of burning herbs filled the small cabin. Shadows trembled against the wooden walls, and the only sound was the shallow rhythm of Hinata’s breathing as she lay still upon the mattress.

Tsunade’s hands moved quickly but carefully, wiping Hinata’s forehead with a damp cloth.
Aoshi knelt beside her, pale and trembling.

“What happened?” the older woman asked, her voice sharp but not unkind.

“I—I don’t know,” he stammered. “She was coming back from the river. I told her I had visitors, and then she just… she just collapsed.”

Tsunade’s eyes softened. “Visitors?”

Her hands froze mid-air for the briefest moment. There was something in the boy’s tone—something that sent a quiet chill down her spine. She drew in a slow breath, placed the cloth back into the bowl, and rose to her feet.

“Stay with your mother, Aoshi,” she said firmly. “She’ll be fine. I’ll take care of your guests.”

“But, Grandma—”

“Do as I say.” Her voice carried the weight of finality that only years could give.

Tsunade stepped out of the room, wiped her hands on her apron, and moved down the narrow hall.
The moment she opened the cabin door, her breath caught in her throat.

There he was — tall, regal, dark-eyed, the ghost of a memory she never thought she’d see standing in her doorway. And behind him, Naruto, his familiar warmth dimmed by uncertainty.

Tsunade bowed her head slightly, voice steady though her heart pounded.
“Your Majesty,” she said quietly. “It seems fate has chosen my doorstep once again.”

Sasuke’s gaze flicked toward her — calm, unreadable — and Naruto gave a small nod in greeting.
Without another word, Tsunade stepped aside, motioning them in. “Please, sit. I’ll prepare some tea.”

The room fell into silence as they waited. The air smelled of mint leaves and smoke. Naruto’s fingers tapped restlessly against his knee; Sasuke sat perfectly still, his eyes on the closed door down the hallway.

When Hinata finally stirred, her lashes fluttered open to the sight of her son’s tear-stained face.

“Mama!” he gasped, wrapping his arms around her. “You scared me! You just fell, and—”

She smiled weakly, brushing his hair back.

“I’m sorry, my love… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

He shook his head. “You fainted. Grandma said you need to rest. But… the guests are still here.”

Hinata’s pulse quickened.

“Guests?” she repeated. “They’re… still here?”

He nodded, unaware of the storm gathering in her chest. “They’re in the living room, waiting for you. I told them you’d come as soon as you woke up.”

For a moment she couldn’t breathe. Her fingers trembled as she sat up, her heart caught between fear and inevitability.
She smoothed her hair, forced her voice steady. “All right. Let’s not keep them waiting.”

And then she walked out — every step a battle to keep her composure.

When she entered the living room, she felt their eyes immediately. Naruto’s gaze was soft, pitying. Sasuke’s — sharp, still, and silent — cut through the air like a blade.

“Good afternoon,” Hinata said, her voice calm though her hands tightened against her dress. She gestured toward the couch.

“Please forgive my earlier discourtesy. What brings you to our home?”

Aoshi, still full of excitement, took the lead.

“Ma, remember how I told you about the competition? The King himself—” he gestured toward Sasuke, “—offered to take me under his wing! To train as a swordsman!”

Hinata froze. “What?”

Her eyes darted to Sasuke, but he didn’t move, didn’t speak. Just watched.
Her voice rose before she could stop it. “That’s impossible. My son isn’t going anywhere near a battlefield. He’s still a child!”

The words cracked in the air like a whip. Naruto shifted uncomfortably; Tsunade looked down.
Sasuke’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing.

“Ma—” Aoshi started, desperate.

“No!” she snapped. “You don’t understand what you’re asking for. You’ll not put your life at risk because of some royal whim.”

Her voice trembled, her breathing uneven. The fear in her tone was sharper than any anger.

Aoshi’s eyes darkened. “You’re not even listening to me! This is my chance! He said—he said we’d have a better life! You wouldn’t have to work so hard anymore. Grandma either!”

“A better life?” she repeated, her voice breaking. “You think life at court is peace? You think that world is kind to people like us?”

Aoshi clenched his fists. “Maybe if we weren’t always hiding, we wouldn’t have to live like this!”

“Aoshi—”

“No, Ma!” His voice rose, trembling with something that wasn’t just anger — it was pain, confusion, longing. “Maybe if I’d had a dad, things would’ve been different!”

The words hit her like a blade through the chest.Silence. The kind that steals the air from the room.

Her lips parted, but no sound came out. Tears welled before she could stop them.

Realizing what he’d said, Aoshi’s expression faltered — but the shame came too late.
“I— I didn’t mean—” he muttered, voice cracking, and before anyone could stop him, he turned and ran out the door.

“Aoshi!” Hinata called, stumbling after him. “Aoshi, baby, please—!”

She reached the doorway, but her knees gave out. She fell hard to the ground, her hands shaking, tears blurring her sight.
“Aoshi!” she cried again, her voice breaking.

Naruto rushed forward, lifting her gently by the shoulders. His eyes were kind, full of a quiet sorrow.

“I’ll go after him,” he said softly.

And before she could answer, he was gone — disappearing into the woods after the boy.

For a long moment, Hinata stayed where she was, her sobs quiet, raw.
When she finally turned, she saw him.

Sasuke stood at the cabin door, framed by the dying light — tall, motionless, his face unreadable, but his eyes… his eyes told everything.

Anger. Shock. Pain. And buried beneath it all — something fragile. Relief.

She knew then that there was no running anymore. No pretending.
The past she had buried was now standing in her doorway.

From inside, Tsunade’s voice came softly, almost solemnly:

“I’ll take a walk around the woods.”

Her footsteps faded, leaving only two hearts in the small wooden house — and fifteen years of silence between them.

---

Chapter Text

The door closed behind Tsunade with a soft click that felt louder than thunder.

Silence lingered—thick, suffocating. The fading light of dusk spilled through the window, drawing pale lines across Hinata’s trembling hands.

Sasuke stood a few steps away, unmoving. His cloak caught the light, his face shadowed but his eyes—his eyes were alive with something she couldn’t name.

Anger. Confusion. Grief.

“You could’ve told me,” he said at last. His voice was low, controlled, but beneath it ran a tremor—barely caged emotion.

“Fifteen years, Hinata. Fifteen years, and you never once thought to tell me that you were alive and that ……we had a son?”

Hinata swallowed hard, her throat burning. “I—”

“I thought you were dead.” The words came sharp, breaking his calm. “Do you understand what that did to me? I buried you in my heart and tried to move on, because I had no choice. And now—now I find out you were alive, that you were raising my child alone, in poverty—”

Her eyes widened, tears rising. “You think I wanted that?!”

“Then why didn’t you come back?!” His voice cracked through the air. “Why didn’t you come to me?!”

That was the moment something inside her snapped.

Her fists clenched, her breath shuddered—and she struck his chest with both hands.

“How dare you—how dare you say that to me!” she cried, her voice breaking as she hit him again. “You think it was that simple? You think I didn’t want to go back?!”

Her tears fell freely now, each word trembling with years of buried pain.

“I almost died, Sasuke! I was unconscious for months—months!—and when I finally woke up, I didn’t even know where I was. I was broken, sick, barely alive—and pregnant! With your child!”

He froze, his mouth parting slightly, his eyes wide with the weight of the truth spoken aloud.

Hinata kept going, voice rising, desperate. “Do you have any idea what that was like? To wake up alone, to realise the man who swore he loved you was gone—and that you carried a part of him inside you?”

Sasuke tried to speak, but no sound came.

“And when I finally had the strength to return—” her voice faltered, trembling with grief, “—I went back to the palace. I was ready to tell you everything. To tell you that I was alive, that we could still—”
Her breath hitched.

“But you were already there, standing beside her. With Ino.”

The name fell from her lips like poison, and Sasuke’s gaze dropped to the floor.

“I stood there,” Hinata whispered, voice breaking. “I watched from the crowd as you smiled for the kingdom. As they called her your bride. And do you know what that felt like, Sasuke? To stand there with your child in my arms —your son—and realise that the love of your life had already replaced you?”

Her voice fractured. “You talk about what I did to you, but what about what you did to me?”

He flinched as though struck again, his jaw tightening.

“I didn’t replace you,” he said quietly. “I thought you were gone. There was no sign of you, no word, no trace. For months I searched—I sent men into the forests, the rivers, the borders. And when they found nothing but your sword —” his voice cracked slightly—“I believed you had died.”

Hinata shook her head, tears spilling faster. “And so you moved on. Just like that.”

“I didn’t move on,” he said through clenched teeth. “I survived. The kingdom was falling apart. I had duties—alliances to maintain. The crown demanded a queen.”

“The crown,” she repeated bitterly. “Always the crown.”

Her voice rose again, trembling with fury and sorrow. “Do you know what it cost me to carry Aoshi alone? To give birth in pain, in fear, praying every night that he’d live even when I thought I wouldn’t? You speak of duty—but what about mine? To that child you never even knew existed?”

Sasuke’s face softened, the fight in him faltering. “Hinata…”

“No,” she cut in, stepping back, shaking her head violently. “Don’t you dare say my name like that. You don’t get to claim that pain now. You don’t get to look at me like I’m the one who betrayed you.”

Her voice dropped to a whisper, raw and trembling.

“I did what I had to do to protect my son. To protect him from the cruelty of your world. A servant carrying the king’s child out of wedlock? He would’ve been branded a bastard before he took his first breath. You know that.”

He closed his eyes, anguish flickering across his face.

“I kept him safe,” Hinata continued, her voice softer now but still trembling. “I raised him with everything I had, even when there was nothing left of me. Don’t stand there and ask why I didn’t come back—ask yourself why fate made it impossible.”

Silence fell again. The wind outside howled softly through the trees, and the scent of tea gone cold filled the room.

For the first time in years, Sasuke looked smaller—no longer the untouchable king, but a man stripped bare before the woman he’d never stopped loving.

His voice, when it came, was barely a whisper.

“I never stopped loving you.”

Hinata’s breath caught, but she didn’t move.

“And yet,” she said quietly, her eyes glistening, “you stopped believing in me.”

The words hung between them like a knife suspended in the air—neither falling nor fading.

Outside, somewhere in the forest, a boy called Aoshi was running through the twilight, unaware that the truth he’d longed for had already been unleashed in his home.

And inside, two hearts that had once beat as one faced the wreckage of everything they had lost—and everything that still remained.

---

The room had gone still after the storm.

Hinata stood frozen, her tears drying on her cheeks, the sound of her heartbeat filling the silence. Sasuke hadn’t moved from where he stood, though his hands were trembling ever so slightly — the only betrayal of the storm still raging inside him.

For a long moment, neither spoke. The space between them, once a sacred thing, was now a battlefield of everything unsaid.

Hinata’s breath came shallowly. She wanted to speak — to yell, to scream again, to do something — but all she could do was stare at him. The man she once loved more than anything. The man who now felt like a ghost wearing the same face.

Sasuke lowered his gaze, his voice rough when he finally spoke.

“I thought seeing you again would bring me peace,” he said quietly. “But all I feel is… everything I lost.”

She flinched. Her lips trembled, but she said nothing.

“I could have been there for you,” he went on, softer now, his tone stripped of all authority. “For him. For both of you. If I’d only known…”

He let the words trail off, shaking his head. “I kept thinking, if I’d tried harder, searched longer—”

“Stop,” Hinata whispered, closing her eyes. “Please don’t say that.”

He looked up, confused.

“I spent years asking myself what if,” she said, her voice trembling. “What if I hadn’t been hurt, what if I’d come back sooner, what if I’d tried harder to tell you the truth. But what ifs don’t bring the dead back, Sasuke. And for fifteen years, you were dead to me.”

The words broke him in ways he couldn’t describe.

For a long time, he said nothing — only looked at her. And she saw it then: the cracks in his calm, the guilt sitting heavy behind his eyes.

Finally, she stepped back, crossing her arms as if to keep herself together.

“You should leave,” she said quietly.

“Before Aoshi comes back. He doesn’t need to see this.”

Sasuke hesitated, his hand twitching slightly — as if he wanted to reach out, to touch her face, to prove she was real. But he didn’t. He only nodded once, the faintest ghost of pain crossing his face.

“I’ll wait outside,” he said, his voice distant.

When he stepped out, the door closed behind him like the end of a lifetime.

Hinata stood there alone, staring at the wooden floor until her knees gave out, and she collapsed against the wall.
Her breath shook. Her tears came quietly this time — slow, restrained, the kind that came only when there was nothing left to scream.

Her trembling hands found their way to the small metallic bracelet around her writs — the one she and Sasuke had once promised will bide them together forever.

Her thumb traced the worn surface, and she whispered, her voice so faint it barely existed.

“I kept my promise… you didn’t.”

---

Meanwhile — in the forest.

The night had deepened. The trees whispered with the wind, and moonlight painted silver lines across the forest floor.

Naruto followed the faint sound of footsteps — heavy, uneven. It didn’t take him long to find Aoshi sitting by the riverbank, knees drawn to his chest, his reflection trembling in the water.

Naruto slowed his pace, his heart heavy.

For a moment, he saw the boy as he had once seen another — years ago — sitting just like that, wounded by things far too big for his age.

“Hey,” Naruto called softly. “You planning to sit there all night, kid?”

Aoshi stiffened, quickly wiping his face before looking up. “Oh—uh, sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to—”

“Relax,” Naruto said, sitting down beside him with a small sigh. “You’re not in trouble.”

They sat in silence for a moment, listening to the river’s quiet hum.

Aoshi’s voice finally broke the stillness. “She probably hates me right now .”

Naruto blinked. “Your mom?”

He nodded, staring at his hands. “She works so hard, and I just— I thought if I joined the guard, I could make things better. So she wouldn’t have to worry anymore. But she doesn’t get it. She just sees me as a child.”

Naruto gave a small, understanding smile. “She doesn’t hate you, kid. She’s just scared.”

“Of what?”

“Of losing you,” he said simply. “Parents… they carry a kind of fear you don’t understand until you have a kid of your own. To her, you’re still that baby she once had to fight the world to protect.”

Aoshi looked down again, voice small.

“But I didn’t mean what I said. About not having a dad.”

Naruto’s smile faded. He placed a hand gently on the boy’s shoulder.

“Sometimes words hit harder than a blade,” he said softly. “But if your mom’s anything like I think she is… she’ll forgive you before you even ask.”

The boy nodded, his throat tight. “You think so?”

“I know so,” Naruto said. “She looks at you the same way your old man used to look at her.”

Aoshi frowned, confused. “What?”

Naruto just chuckled quietly, shaking his head. “Nothing. Just an old man rambling.”

They sat in silence for a long while after that — the boy staring at the stars, the man staring at the reflection of another life.

When they finally stood to leave, Naruto looked once more toward the faint glow of the cabin through the trees.

He knew what awaited them there — two people standing at the edge of a truth too heavy to run from.

And as they walked back together, side by side, he found himself praying — not for fate to be kind, but simply for time to stop breaking the same hearts twice.

---

The night had deepened by the time the sound of footsteps returned outside the cabin.

Hinata sat by the window, her eyes fixed on the darkness beyond the trees. Her fingers twisted the small bracelet around her wrist— the one piece of the past she could never let go of.

She had cried until her tears ran dry. Now all that remained was the hollow ache that came after.

Then —“Aoshi!”

She was on her feet before she even realised it.

Her son appeared at the edge of the clearing, his face shadowed by guilt and weariness. Behind him walked Naruto, his expression gentle but heavy with things unspoken.

“Aoshi!” she called again, voice breaking.

He barely had time to react before she was running toward him — skirts brushing against the dirt, eyes shining with tears. She threw her arms around him, clutching him as though she might lose him if she let go.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered over and over, pressing her face against his shoulder.

“I’m so sorry, my love. I shouldn’t have shouted. I shouldn’t have said those things. I was just—” her voice trembled “—I was scared. You’re still my baby. You’ll always be my baby.”

Aoshi’s arms slowly came around her.

The boy had grown taller than her now, his shoulders broad and strong — but in that moment, he looked like a child again.

He held her close, whispering, “It’s okay, Ma… I’m sorry too.”

They stayed that way for a long while, wrapped in the kind of silence only love could mend.

Naruto watched from a few paces back, his heart tight in his chest. And just beyond the doorway, Sasuke stood half in shadow — silent, unmoving, his expression unreadable.

He had seen countless battles, survived blood and loss. Yet nothing had ever disarmed him the way this scene did: Hinata, weeping into their son’s shoulder — a son he had never known, a love he had thought forever lost.

When they finally pulled apart, Hinata brushed her tears away and looked at Naruto, forcing a fragile smile. “Thank you,” she said softly.

He only nodded, his eyes kind. “You should rest. He’s home now.”

---

Inside the cabin, the light of the hearth flickered against the wooden walls.
Tsunade had prepared dinner — something simple, warm, comforting. The kind of meal that held people together when words weren’t enough.

No one spoke much as they sat at the table.

Hinata moved quietly, helping Tsunade ladle soup into the bowls, her hands trembling only once when she accidentally brushed pass Sasuke. She didn’t look at him — couldn’t — but she felt his gaze on her all the same.

Naruto tried to ease the tension, speaking of small, harmless things — the harvest in the villages, the strength of the festival contenders — but his voice eventually faded into the soft crackling of the fire.

Aoshi ate quietly beside his mother, sneaking glances between the three adults who felt strangely familiar to him.

Every now and then, Hinata would reach out to fix a strand of hair on his forehead, or refill his cup, as if reassuring herself that he was there.

When dinner ended, Aoshi stood and gave a shy bow to everyone before saying, “We’ll talk tomorrow, Mama. I promise I’ll listen.”

Her eyes softened. “Alright, my heart,” she whispered. “Tomorrow.”

He disappeared into the small adjoining room — his footsteps fading into the gentle rhythm of the night.

---

Silence lingered again.

Tsunade rose slowly, patting Hinata’s shoulder before giving the men a long, knowing look. “You’ll all stay the night,” she said simply. “We can deal with explanations in the morning.”

Naruto nodded. Sasuke didn’t answer.

Tsunade sighed and retreated to her room, leaving behind the quiet hum of the dying fire.

Hinata began gathering the bowls, avoiding Sasuke’s eyes, but when she reached for the last one, his hand caught hers.

She froze.

The room seemed to shrink around them — the air suddenly too full of everything they hadn’t said.

Sasuke’s voice was low, rough. “He’s… a good boy.”

Hinata’s throat tightened. “He’s all I have.”

He looked at her for a long time, his gaze searching her face, every word he’d rehearsed for fifteen years dying on his tongue. “You did well,” he said finally. “Better than I ever could.”

She wanted to thank him, to curse him, to ask him why fate had been so cruel — but all that came out was a trembling whisper:

“Please don’t say things like that. Not tonight.”

He nodded slowly, stepping back.

“Tomorrow, then.”

When he turned away, she exhaled shakily, pressing her hand against her heart as if to quiet it.

Naruto, standing by the doorway, caught her eye and gave her a faint, sad smile before following Sasuke out into the night air.

Hinata stayed behind in the flickering light, her fingers tightening around her bracelet.

Tomorrow, everything would have to be faced — the truth… sort of, the questions, the storm waiting just beyond the fragile calm.

But tonight… tonight she would allow herself to breathe beside her son’s door, whispering a prayer of thanks that he was safe, even as her heart broke all over again.

---

Chapter Text

The morning after carried a stillness that felt almost heavy.

Sunlight filtered through the narrow cabin windows, casting pale gold lines across the wooden floor. The faint scent of tea and wild herbs lingered in the air — familiar, grounding, almost enough to hide the ache that sat between them all.

They gathered in the living room after breakfast.

Tsunade sat on her favorite chair, half-distractedly working a mortar of dried leaves. Naruto leaned near the window, his bright eyes unusually quiet.

Aoshi sat cross-legged on the floor, a restless energy in his hands as he tried not to meet his mother’s gaze.

And Sasuke… Sasuke watched everything with that unreadable calm that masked the storm within him.

Hinata felt it — every glance, every silence. She could hear the faint tremor in her son’s breath, could feel Sasuke’s presence like a shadow that refused to leave.

---

After a long silence, Aoshi finally broke it.

“So,” he said hesitantly, “is it true? I can go to the palace… train as a swordsman?”

His eyes shone, full of hope and something deeper — the dream of a life beyond the woods.

Hinata’s throat tightened. She opened her mouth, but before she could speak, Sasuke’s voice cut softly through the air.

“That depends on your mother.”

She looked at him — really looked at him — and saw again the same man she had once trusted with her heart. The same steady eyes, the same strength. But now, there was something else there too — guilt, restraint, and an echo of longing.

“Aoshi,” she began gently, “the palace isn’t just another village. It’s full of rules, duties, eyes that never stop watching. You’re still young, and—”

“—And I can handle it,” he interrupted, his tone firm but not disrespectful. “I’m not a kid anymore, Mama. You always said I was strong.”

Her lips trembled, but she forced a smile. “You are. That’s what scares me.”

The boy’s shoulders dropped slightly.

Sasuke watched the exchange in silence, his gaze softening. There was so much of himself in that stubbornness — it was almost painful to witness.

---

Tsunade, sensing the weight in the room, cleared her throat.

“I’ll fetch more tea,” she murmured, standing slowly and disappearing into the kitchen.

Naruto gave a subtle nod toward Sasuke and slipped outside after her, leaving mother and son alone — or almost alone.

Sasuke remained seated, still, his presence both distant and inescapable.

Hinata took a quiet breath. “Aoshi… could you give me a moment with the King?”

Aoshi blinked, confused but obedient.

“Sure, Mama. I’ll go help grandma.”
He glanced briefly at Sasuke — curious, respectful in his own way — before leaving the room.

The door shut softly behind him.

---

Silence.

Hinata stood by the window, her fingers gripping the curtain just to keep her hands from shaking.

Sasuke finally spoke, his voice low. “You really mean to hide it from him.”

Her answer came just as soft, but certain. “Yes. For now.”

He leaned forward slightly, eyes narrowing. “You think protecting him means keeping him blind?”

“It means giving him time,” she snapped, turning toward him. “Time to understand, to not hate me — or you.”

Her voice broke. “He’s all I have, Sasuke. If the truth comes out the wrong way, I could lose him.”

His jaw tightened. For a moment, he looked like he might argue again, but then — as her trembling voice faded — he exhaled slowly, the fight leaving him.

“You said last night you’d tell him yourself.”

“And I will,” she whispered. “When I can say it without falling apart.”

He nodded once, reluctantly. The frustration in him was deep, but beneath it, there was understanding. If there was any chance of forgiveness, it would start with respecting her terms.

“I’ll wait,” he said finally.

Her eyes widened slightly. She hadn’t expected that.

He stood then, crossing the small distance between them, stopping just short of touching her.

“I’ll wait,” he repeated, quieter now, “but I’m not leaving you here. Either of you.”

Hinata’s breath caught. “Sasuke—”

“I’m taking you both to the palace,” he said, his tone final, kingly now. “You and Aoshi will be safe there. Whatever happens after that, happens.”

Her eyes filled with unshed tears. “If we go back… everything will change.”

He met her gaze, and for a fleeting moment, the cold mask cracked — revealing something raw, almost pleading.

“Maybe it’s time it did.”

---

Outside, laughter echoed faintly — Aoshi and Naruto, unaware of the truth unfolding just beyond the door.

Inside, Hinata turned back to the window, blinking against her tears, while Sasuke stood behind her — the air between them trembling with years of love, loss, and unfinished promises.

For now, the truth would wait.

But the future was already moving toward them — and neither could stop it anymore.

---

“You’re serious about this,” Hinata said softly, staring into the flickering hearth.

“You mean about taking you back?” Sasuke’s voice was steady. “I am.”

She turned toward him, her lavender eyes sharp despite the faint redness from last night’s tears. “And what happens when someone recognizes me? When they see my face and remember the servant girl who disappeared the months previous to the princess became your wife?”

Sasuke’s gaze didn’t falter. “They won’t.”

“You can’t control everything, Sasuke,” she whispered.

His jaw tightened. “No. But I can protect you.”

Her chest constricted at the weight of those words — not because she didn’t believe him, but because she did. He meant them the same way he had all those years ago, when he’d promised her a future that never came.

Still, she drew in a breath and gathered the courage to speak her truth.

“If I agree to go,” she said carefully, “then you do it under my terms.”

He waited, silent but attentive.

“My name remains Hoshi,” she said carefully, her tone steady despite the tremor in her hands. “No one — not your queen, not your mother, not even your generals — knows who I am or what I was to you. In fact I would like to make my possible contact with any of them close to none.” Her voice wavered only slightly. “And Aoshi… he stays who he is. My son. Not yours. Not yet.”

Sasuke’s hands clenched slightly, his nails pressing into his palms. Every instinct in him screamed to refuse — to claim what was his, to stop hiding. But when he looked at her, saw the mixture of strength and fear in her eyes, he understood that this was not a battle he could win through force.

He exhaled slowly. “Fine,” he said at last. “You’ll be Hoshi. Your son will remain… your son. For now.”

Hinata nodded, relief and sorrow mingling in her chest. “Even Aoshi knows me only as Hoshi Hyūga,” she admitted softly. “He doesn’t know much about my past. I’ve only told him that I once lived in a large house, but that I had to leave… and that I met Lady Tsunade at an herbalist’s shop. She took me in when I was still expecting him.”

Sasuke studied her face — the calm surface that barely concealed years of careful deception. His jaw tightened.

“And you believe lying to him this way won’t hurt him when he learns the truth?”

Hinata met his gaze, unflinching. “I didn’t do it out of want,” she said, her voice quiet but firm. “I did it out of need. How could I tell my son that his mother was dragged half-dead from the river after an attack in the royal palace? That the father he’s never met is the man who wears the crown that once doomed his mother’s clan?” Her breath caught slightly, but she continued. “If I told him that, he’d ask about more about you — and I wasn’t going to put that burden on his heart. Not while he was still innocent.”

For a long moment, Sasuke said nothing. The silence between them grew heavy, not cold but weighted with understanding. He finally nodded, his eyes softening. “You’ve carried this alone for too long,” he said quietly. “Longer than anyone should have to.”

Hinata looked away, her fingers tightening around the fabric of her sleeve. “We both have,” she murmured.

“And the house?”

“I’ll have it arranged,” Sasuke replied, standing. “There’s a property at the edge of the royal gardens — private, but close enough that I can keep an eye on both of you.” His tone softened, almost imperceptibly. “No one will question it.”

“Not even Ino?” she asked bitterly.

He hesitated for a moment, then shook his head. “Not even her.”

Hinata’s lips pressed together. For all his power, for all the years that had hardened him into a king, Sasuke still kept his promises. It was what made loving him so dangerous — and so impossible to forget.

---

Three days later, the forest that had been her world for more than a decade disappeared behind them.

Aoshi rode ahead beside Naruto, his laughter echoing down the road. Sasuke and Hinata followed behind, their horses pacing side by side in silence.

It wasn’t the same silence as before — this one carried weight and memory, but also something new. A fragile thread of understanding.

When they reached the capital, Hinata’s heart clenched. The gates of the palace towered above them, unchanged. She had walked through those very doors once as a servant — quiet, unseen, hidden behind veils and duties.

Now, she entered again as someone else entirely: Hoshi Hyuga, healer, mother, and ghost of a love the world had long buried.

---

The house Sasuke had promised was beautiful — modest, but refined.
White walls framed with dark wood, a small courtyard blooming with moonflowers, and a private bridge that led directly to the palace gardens through an ancient stone archway.

Hinata stood in the doorway that first evening, watching Aoshi run through the yard with childlike wonder. Sasuke stood a few steps behind her, arms crossed.

“He likes it,” Sasuke murmured.

“He’s never had a yard like this,” she replied quietly. “Thank you.”

He nodded once, his gaze drifting to the boy. “He’ll be trained in the lower guard for now — under Naruto’s supervision. His recruitment will raise eyebrows, but not for long.”

“Because of how he looks?” she asked, not turning to him.

Sasuke’s silence was enough of an answer.

---

And so it began.

Word spread through the barracks — a new recruit under the King’s personal eye.

Some whispered about his strange resemblance to His Majesty, the sharp black eyes and quiet grace with a sword. Others dismissed it as coincidence, another tale to pass the time between drills.

Within a week, the gossip died. The kingdom had other matters to discuss — treaties, harvests, and the unending rhythm of politics.

But within the walls of the quiet house by the gardens, secrets breathed again.
Hinata tended to the herbs in her courtyard. Sasuke found himself visiting more than he had reason to. Aoshi grew stronger under Naruto’s training.

And though none of them dared speak of it aloud, every glance, every heartbeat whispered the same truth —
that the past, however buried, had found its way home.

---

Chapter Text

Flashback

The morning mist hung low over the clearing as Hinata packed the last of her things.
Aoshi was already outside, playing with the stray cat that sometimes came to the cabin for scraps, while Tsunade stood by the door with her arms crossed — her expression tight, though her eyes betrayed the softness beneath.

“You’re sure about this?” Tsunade asked quietly.

Hinata folded one last blanket, her fingers trembling only slightly. “He deserves a future, Tsunade. One I can’t give him here.”

Tsunade let out a long sigh, stepping forward until they stood just inches apart. “You’ve both been my family for years. This place—” she glanced around the cabin: the herbs hanging from the rafters, the small table scarred from a thousand shared meals “—it’ll be too quiet without you.”

Hinata smiled faintly. “Then come with us. You’d have everything you need — space, medicine, even students to teach.”

But Tsunade only shook her head.

“My place is here, child. These woods, these people… they’re my roots.” She brushed a stray lock of hair from Hinata’s face, her voice gentling. “Your roots, on the other hand, are moving — whether you like it or not.”

Hinata felt the sting of tears in her eyes but tried to hold them back. “You saved me, Tsunade. Saved both of us. I don’t know how to thank you.”

Tsunade chuckled softly. “You already did — every time you smiled again after the darkness. Every time you called this place home.”

When Hinata hugged her, she held her tight — the kind of embrace that felt final, yet full of promise.
“Write to me,” Tsunade murmured. “And don’t let that stubborn prince of yours ruin the peace you’ve built. Not again.”

Hinata smiled through her tears. “I’ll try.”

---

Present time

That evening, far behind them in another world, the palace glowed with warm candlelight.
Sasuke stood on the balcony of his study, staring out at the city below. Naruto joined him, carrying two glasses of sake and handing one over wordlessly.

“You’ve been quiet,” Naruto said after a while. “Since we left that cabin.”

Sasuke’s jaw tightened. “There’s not much to say.”

Naruto sighed. “That’s never true for you.”

A beat of silence stretched between them before Sasuke finally spoke — his voice low, almost hoarse.

“I’m angry,” he admitted. “At her. At myself. At everything that happened. She hid my son from me for years, Naruto.” His fingers curled around the glass. “But when I look at her… all I can feel is guilt.”

Naruto didn’t interrupt.

“I broke every promise I made to her,” Sasuke continued. “Married someone I didn’t love, let my mother dictate half my life, and still called myself a man of conviction.” He scoffed under his breath. “And now she’s back — and all I can think of is how I failed them both.”

Naruto leaned against the railing, his expression thoughtful. “You were trying to protect the kingdom.”

“I used that excuse for years,” Sasuke said. “Maybe it’s time I stop hiding behind it.”

Naruto studied him carefully. “You’re thinking about divorcing Ino, aren’t you?”

Sasuke didn’t answer immediately. His gaze drifted over the lanterns flickering below. “The alliance was useful once. But now? My armies are strong. My allies are loyal because of honor, not marriage. If I let this continue, I’ll rot in a lie.”

“Divorce won’t be easy,” Naruto warned. “The council, your mother, the nobles—”

“I don’t care.” Sasuke’s voice was sharp, final. “If I have to face them all, I will. But not until I’ve earned the right to face her again — properly.”

Naruto nodded slowly. “So what’s your plan?”

Sasuke looked down at the courtyard where Aoshi trained with a wooden sword the next morning.
“I start with him,” he said. “He’s my son. I’ll be in his life — however he’ll let me.”

---

And so he was.

Day after day, Sasuke began to appear more often — first under the excuse of escorting Aoshi back from training, then to “supervise his progress,” then simply because he wanted to.
At first, Hinata scolded him for his persistence, but Aoshi’s joy made it hard for her to stay angry.

The boy had grown used to calling Sasuke old man, and though Hinata reprimanded him every time, Sasuke never corrected it — in fact, he seemed to secretly enjoy it.
Whenever Hinata was near, his composure remained stoic; but when she turned away, a faint smile always escaped him.

For Sasuke, those small visits became the anchor of his days — each one chipping away at the guilt that had weighed on him for fifteen years.

---

Later one evening, when the moon was full and the palace quiet, Naruto came to visit Hinata.
She had just finished washing dishes when she saw him standing by the courtyard.

“Couldn’t sleep either?” Naruto asked gently.

Hinata smiled faintly. “I suppose you know me too well.”

They sat together by the small garden pond, the air filled with the soft croak of frogs and the rustle of wind through leaves.

“It feels strange,” Hinata confessed after a while. “To have you here. To see him here. Sometimes I think I’ll wake up and it’ll all have been a dream.”

Naruto’s gaze softened. “He’s real, Hinata. You both are.”

She looked down, her voice trembling. “Do you know what it feels like to carry so much love and so much anger at once? To want to forgive him, but every time I close my eyes I see him standing beside another woman — wearing the same hands that once held me?”

Naruto didn’t speak; he only let her words spill, raw and trembling.

“I thought I had moved on. I built a life. I raised my son. But the moment I saw him, it all came back — the love, the pain, everything.”

Her voice broke then, and before she could stop herself, tears slid down her cheeks. Naruto reached out and held her — gently, like an older brother would.

“Don’t be sorry,” he murmured as she tried to apologize through the sobs. “You’ve carried this alone for too long.”

Hinata pressed her forehead against his shoulder, her tears soaking into his tunic. “I thought you’d hate me for keeping myself and Aoshi hidden.”

Naruto shook his head. “Hate you? No. I just wish you hadn’t gone through it alone.”

For the first time in years, Hinata allowed herself to cry freely — not in silence, not behind closed doors, but in the open air, under the same moon that once watched over two young lovers in the palace gardens.

And somewhere, in another room, Sasuke stood by his window, looking toward that same moon — his heart heavy but his resolve clear:
whatever it took, he would make things right again.

---

The palace halls always sounded different at night — quieter, lonelier.
Sasuke walked them as if the silence belonged to him. For years, it had. Now, it felt heavier.

He sat in his study, candlelight throwing long shadows across the stacks of documents before him — divorce decrees, precedents from reigns long past, legal records of noble separations.
He read them one after another: the ink dense, the language cold.

A king’s marriage could end, yes — but it came with conditions: land forfeiture, political backlash, social fracture.
He had faced wars that had taken less out of him than the thought of this decision.

And yet, every time his mind drifted to Hinata’s face or to Aoshi’s laughter echoing through the palace courtyard, the doubt faded — just enough for resolve to take root again.

“At all costs,” he murmured to himself. “Even if the world turns on me again.”

---

The next morning, Ino came to his study unannounced, as she often did.
She was dressed impeccably — the queen in every sense of the word — her presence commanding, but her eyes hollowed by years of quiet distance.

“You’ve been coming home late again,” she said — not accusingly, simply stating fact.

Sasuke looked up from his parchment, pen still in hand. “There’s much to manage.”

“There’s always much to manage,” she replied, walking closer, her perfume sharp and floral. “But lately, it feels like you’re managing everything but us.”

He said nothing. Words had become meaningless between them long ago.
They shared a title, a roof, a history built on necessity, not love.

Ino sighed and leaned against the desk, her voice quieter now. “You don’t have to pretend, Sasuke. I know what we are — what we’re not.”

Her tone wasn’t bitter; if anything, it was resigned — the soft decay of a marriage that had never known warmth.

“You’ve changed,” she said after a pause. “Since your last trip. You walk like a man who’s found something… or someone.”

He finally met her gaze — and for a fleeting second, something like guilt flickered there.

“Ino,” he said evenly, “what I do, I do for the good of the kingdom.”

“Of course,” she said, lips curving into a sad smile. “The kingdom. Always the kingdom.”

She turned to leave but paused at the door. “Just… don’t forget: when you tear something down, you can’t always rebuild it.”

The door closed softly behind her, leaving him alone with the sound of his heartbeat and the faint scent of wilted jasmine.

---

Later that week, during a family dinner, the queen mother — Mikoto — studied her son with quiet scrutiny.
The royal dining hall glittered as usual, but she could tell something beneath his composure had shifted.

“You seem… different,” she said finally, as servants cleared the table. “Ever since you came back from that festival.”

Sasuke set down his cup of wine. “It was just work.”

“I’ve known you since before you could speak,” she said dryly. “And I know when you’re lying.”

He didn’t respond — just inclined his head in silent deference, a subtle end to the conversation.
But Mikoto’s eyes lingered on him a moment longer, as if she could see through the cracks he thought were well hidden.

---

In the weeks that followed, Sasuke found more and more reasons to leave the palace — inspection visits, guard reviews, training evaluations.
Excuses, all of them — excuses to end the day at the small, quiet house near the forest’s edge, where Hinata and Aoshi lived.

Hinata still kept her distance — polite but guarded, always Your Majesty and never Sasuke.
But her eyes softened when he trained with Aoshi. She couldn’t hide that much.

---

That afternoon, the courtyard was warm with the smell of sun and grass.
Aoshi and Sasuke faced each other with wooden swords, sweat glistening on their brows. The boy’s stance had improved — his reflexes sharp, his drive unwavering.

“You’re improving,” Sasuke remarked as their blades met again with a satisfying crack.

Aoshi grinned. “I’m trying to make my Ma proud.”

Sasuke froze for a heartbeat. The simplicity of those words hit harder than he expected.

Aoshi lowered his sword slightly, panting, then laughed — a light, unguarded sound.

“She’s everything, you know?” he said. “She worked so hard all her life… sometimes I think she doesn’t even sleep. I just want to give her a life where she never has to lift another bucket or worry about food.”

Sasuke watched him, chest tightening. “She’s lucky to have you.”

Aoshi looked down, fidgeting with his sword hilt. “Maybe. But…”

He hesitated. “Sometimes I wish I’d had a dad. You know, to teach me stuff. I love my mom with all my heart, but…” He shrugged.

Sasuke knelt down in front of him, his voice low, controlled. “There’s strength in the way you carry your heart, Aoshi. Never lose that.”

The boy nodded, his eyelids growing heavy from exhaustion. Within moments, he slumped beside Sasuke — his head resting gently against his shoulder, then sliding until it leaned against the hollow of Sasuke’s neck.

For a long time, Sasuke didn’t move.
He only looked down at the sleeping boy — his son — and felt the years of lost time pressing down like a weight he could never lift.

Slowly, almost reverently, he placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder — steady and warm.

“I’ll make it right,” he whispered. “I swear.”

The wind stirred, carrying the faint scent of lilac from Hinata’s garden.
And for the first time in years, the King of the Realm felt something that almost resembled peace.

---

The palace gleamed as always — gold and marble polished to perfection — but Sasuke’s mind was far from its corridors.
Meetings came and went in a blur: advisors talking about trade routes, army reports, and harvest counts.
He heard them but didn’t listen.

His thoughts lingered elsewhere — in the quiet house near the forest’s edge, where the air smelled like wild herbs and river breeze.

It had been nearly a month since Hinata and Aoshi had moved there.
She’d kept her word: no one knew her true name, nor where she had come from.
The staff rarely saw her; she was simply Lady Hoshi, the herbalist who was also the mother of the child under the king’s quiet patronage.

The story fit well enough.
No one questioned why the king sometimes visited them personally.
At least, not yet.

---

Whenever he came to the house, he brought flowers — always the same kind: small yellow camellias, the ones he used to tuck into her hair when they were children training in the royal gardens, long before the world had hardened around them.

Hinata never said a word about them.
She would find them on her windowsill, or placed gently on the porch before dawn, or resting on the edge of the wooden table by the fire after he’d gone.

But every time, her heart clenched.

Sometimes she’d hold the stem between her fingers and whisper his name softly into the quiet — Sasuke — as if saying it too loudly might make him vanish again.

---

One evening, as the sun dipped low and painted the forest in orange light, Hinata stood outside hanging the laundry to dry.
She sensed him before she heard him — the subtle hush of footsteps on the path.

When she turned, he was there — still in his travel cloak, a faint dusting of road on his boots, and another single camellia in his hand.

“You shouldn’t keep bringing these,” she murmured, though her voice trembled more than she wanted it to.

“It’s a habit,” he replied simply.

She looked away. “Habits can be dangerous.”

“So can silence.”

Their eyes met for a brief, aching second.
Then Aoshi’s voice broke the moment, calling from inside the house, and the spell shattered.

He would never see how, when she turned away to answer her son, she brought the flower close and pressed it to her heart before setting it carefully in a vase by the window.

---

Back in the palace, the air felt colder.
Ino and Sasuke passed each other like ghosts in shared halls — polite, formal, disconnected.
He attended councils but spoke little.

The only person who seemed to notice the subtle change was Naruto.

They met one night in Sasuke’s study, the king leaning against the window, eyes distant.
Naruto poured himself a cup of sake, studying his friend.

“You’ve been quieter than usual,” Naruto said. “Which, coming from you, is saying a lot.”

Sasuke didn’t smile. “There’s… a lot on my mind.”

“Hinata?”

The king’s jaw tensed — that was answer enough.

Naruto exhaled softly. “You’re still angry.”

“I’m not sure what I am,” Sasuke admitted. “Some days I want to ask her why she didn’t come back sooner. Others, I can’t stop thinking about how much she must’ve suffered… how much I failed her.”

Naruto nodded slowly. “You didn’t just lose her — you lost your son too.”

Sasuke turned his gaze to the dark sky beyond the window. “Fourteen years, Naruto. Fourteen years of him growing up without a father because I was too blind to see what was in front of me.”

“And now?”

“Now I’m trying to make it right. Even if she never forgives me.”

There was a long silence between them.

Naruto’s voice softened. “You’ve changed, old friend. You move like a man who’s finally fighting for himself again.”

Sasuke’s hand tightened slightly on the windowsill. “I’m fighting for them.”

---

Weeks turned into months, and a quiet rhythm formed — training sessions with Aoshi in the mornings, small meals shared with Hinata in the evenings, and the faint smell of flowers marking his presence in between.

Aoshi was thriving. His skill with the sword grew sharper each day, his confidence blooming under Sasuke’s guidance.

One afternoon, after a particularly intense spar, the boy dropped to the grass with a tired laugh.

“You don’t go easy on anyone, do you, old man?”

Sasuke smirked faintly. “Strength isn’t learned by mercy.”

Aoshi chuckled, then leaned back against the tree, his voice softer now. “You know… my mom always says that strength isn’t just in the arm. It’s in the heart.”

“She’s right,” Sasuke said quietly.

The boy hesitated before continuing, eyes focused on the sky.

“I used to think… maybe if I was strong enough, my dad would’ve stayed.

Or maybe he’d be proud of me. But…” He smiled faintly. “Having you around — it’s not so bad. Kind of feels like… having one.”

The words struck deep.
Sasuke’s throat tightened, but he said nothing.

Instead, he placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder — steady, wordless.

Moments later, Aoshi’s eyes fluttered shut. He leaned sideways, his head resting against Sasuke’s neck as he drifted into sleep.

It had almost become a habit.

The king sat there in silence — feeling the weight of the boy’s trust, his warmth, everything he had missed.

He looked toward the window, where Hinata’s silhouette moved softly, lighting candles for the evening.

And just before the light faded completely, he whispered — so softly even the wind could barely hear it:

“I’ll protect you both. Even if it means breaking everything else apart.”

Chapter Text

Months had passed since the day Hinata had fainted in front of the man she thought she’d never see again.
Seasons began to shift — the green of summer giving way to the burnished golds of autumn — and with them, the rhythm of life in their quiet corner of the world had softened into something almost peaceful.

It was early morning when she found herself at the window, watching Sasuke and Aoshi sparring outside.
The mist clung low to the earth, softening their silhouettes, but even through the haze she could see it — the rhythm between them, the unspoken understanding that only blood could weave.
Every strike mirrored another; every parry carried instinct more than learning.
They didn’t know it, but they were reflections of each other.

And she — watching them — felt both pride and ache twist inside her chest.

Naruto’s quiet voice broke her thoughts.
“He’s good with the boy,” he said, while taking a sip of his tea, his gaze steady but kind.
Hinata nodded faintly. “He’s… patient.”

“That’s one word for it.” Naruto’s smile was faint, knowing. “You can see it, can’t you? The truth staring right back at you.”

Hinata closed her eyes. “I’ve always seen it.”

---
The air was different now.
Softer, somehow — warmer, as if the quiet rhythm of life had been rewritten by unseen hands. Months had passed since she met Sasuke again and though the memories still hurt, Hinata had begun to breathe again.

Each morning, she rose before the sun, the light of dawn barely brushing against the forest outside. Hinata would sit by the window with her tea, her hands a little slower than before, her gaze still sharp as ever.
And outside — always outside — she would see them.

Sasuke and Aoshi.
Training together. Moving like twin reflections.

The air would hum with the ring of steel, their blades catching the light as they crossed. There was something sacred in the rhythm of it — something that made her heart ache and swell all at once.
Every strike Aoshi made carried his father’s precision, his calm defiance.

---

The palace and it’s surroundings were never silent.
Even in its stillest hours, the air carried whispers — of servants moving through marble halls, of soldiers pacing the courtyards, of rumors brushing through the wind like stray embers.

Hinata had learned to live within that sound.
Her days passed softly — tending to the garden that now bloomed just beyond her quarters, keeping the home that Sasuke had provided for her and Aoshi on the edge of the palace grounds. It wasn’t part of the main complex — rather, a quiet annex hidden behind the east walls, linked by a narrow stone path and lined with camellias.

Each morning, Aoshi would join the royal guard’s training sessions, his skill growing sharper by the day. Sasuke often came to oversee them — not as a king, but as a silent observer, his eyes following his son’s every move.

Hinata had grown used to seeing him there.
To the way his presence filled a space, steady and composed.
To the way he’d always leave something behind — a single camellia bloom resting by her door before dawn, the same kind he used to tuck in her hair when they were young.

That morning, as she watched the sun break through the mist, she felt something stir inside her — a quiet certainty.

Aoshi’s fifteenth birthday was approaching.
And for the first time in so many years, Hinata wanted something more than peace — she wanted warmth.

“It should be the three of us,” she murmured under her breath, her hands still damp from watering the plants.
“For his sake.”

That evening, she found the courage to stop Sasuke on his trail as he was leaving from walking Aoshi to their home after a long training day, deep down she knew he used it as an excuse to see her, and though she wouldn’t admit it even to herself, it had started to bother her less than it should.

He turned around surprised, the moonlight catching faint lines of exhaustion on his face.

“His birthday is next week,” she said quietly, almost hesitating. “I was thinking… perhaps we could have a small celebration. Just… for him. As a family.”

Sasuke froze, the word family seeming to echo longer than it should.
When he finally met her gaze, his eyes had softened — not with surprise, but with something deeper.

“If that’s what you want,” he said simply, voice low. “Then that’s what we’ll do.”

Hinata nodded, turning before her courage could falter.
And for the first time since their reunion, Sasuke felt a small, flickering hope — that maybe, slowly, she was letting him back in.

---

Later that night, the palace’s northern wing glowed with lamplight.
Sasuke stood by the window of his private office, overlooking the training grounds, papers spread across the desk before him.
They weren’t military reports this time — they were legal documents.

Divorce petitions. Case precedents.
The quiet machinery of a decision that had begun to take shape.

The royal councillor, Satoshi sat across from him, arms folded. The man’s usual smirk had faded into something thoughtful.

“You’ve been restless since the festival,”  said Satoshi finally. “I didn’t expect this to be the reason.”

“It’s not a decision I take lightly,” Sasuke replied. “But I can’t continue in a bond that’s already hollow. I’ve been looking into the legal process — the most discreet path, with minimal political consequence.”

Satoshi tilted his head. “You’re the king, Sasuke. There’s always consequence. You sure you’re ready for what follows?”

Sasuke didn’t answer immediately. His gaze drifted beyond the glass, toward the faint glow of the eastern annex — where a soft light still flickered in Hinata’s window.

“I’ll handle whatever comes,” he said finally, his voice firm but distant. “I just need to make things right. For once.”

Satoshi watched him for a moment longer, then leaned back in his chair with a quiet sigh.

“If that is what you want then you can count with me to do anything in my power to effectively start with the divorce proceedings.”

---

Meanwhile, in the western wing, another conversation took place under the hush of candlelight.

Ino sat before the vanity, a jeweled comb slipping through her golden hair.
Behind her, Queen Mikoto watched her reflection with a mother’s concern — calm, poised, but sharp-eyed.

“You’ve noticed it too,” Ino said softly, breaking the silence. “He’s… different.”

“He is,” Mikoto admitted. “Ever since he returned from that festival, there’s something distant in him. A heaviness.”

Ino smiled faintly, though the sadness in her eyes betrayed her.

“I used to think there could be another woman. But that’s impossible. He’s never broken his word.”

Mikoto nodded slowly, her gaze thoughtful.

“Yes. He’s been faithful to the memory of one who no longer breathes. That kind of loyalty doesn’t fade… but it does change a man.”

Ino looked down at her hands — elegant, trembling just slightly.

“I sometimes wonder if that’s worse,” she whispered. “To live beside a man whose heart has never truly been yours.”

The queen didn’t answer.
The silence between them said enough.

And somewhere across the palace, a single camellia rested by a window — pale and fragrant under the moonlight.

……..
A week later, the morning of Aoshi’s fifteenth birthday arrived.
Naruto had come early, bearing gifts and his usual loud laughter that filled the house like sunlight.
Hinata had prepared a feast, and even Sasuke — despite his usual stoicism — seemed a little less composed, helping carry dishes to the table.

Hinata had made a simple cake, small but beautiful, decorated with the same white flowers that had become their quiet language.

When Aoshi walked in, his face lit up, seeing everyone gathered there.

Seeing Sasuke and Naruto around his home was nothing unusual—he’d grown used to their presence over time. Still, their appearance that day caught him off guard. Knowing how demanding their duties were, he hadn’t expected them to show up for something as trivial as his birthday. Yet their being there, despite their royal obligations, made him feel like the luckiest boy in the world.

For once, he didn’t call Sasuke “old man.” He just smiled, a rare, genuine smile.

“Happy birthday, son,” Hinata whispered, pulling him into her arms.

The word hung between them — son— tender, fragile, whole.
Sasuke felt it burn through him, deeper than any blade could reach.

Dinner was laughter and warmth — Naruto telling stories that made Aoshi choke with laughter, Hinata’s eyes soft with memory, Sasuke occasionally meeting her gaze across the table, wordless but full of meaning.

As night deepened, the candles flickered low, and Aoshi leaned his head against his mother’s shoulder, tired but content.

Sasuke watched from across the room.
Naruto caught his glance, gave him a faint nod — the kind of quiet approval that didn’t need words.

And when Sasuke looked back at Hinata, she was already looking at him, her lavender eyes shimmering with tears — but for once, not of pain.

For the first time in fifteen years, there was peace.

A fragile one, yes — but real.

Chapter Text

The day had folded into amber light by the time Sasuke and Aoshi returned from training. The boy’s laughter still echoed in the corridor as they entered the small house beyond the eastern walls. The smell of simmering miso and grilled vegetables filled the air.

Hinata stood by the table, arranging the dishes with her usual quiet grace. A strand of hair had slipped from her braid, catching the light like silk.
For a moment Sasuke just watched her — the way he always did — struck by how easily her presence settled the storm inside him.

“You’re back early,” she said softly, without looking up.
“Training ended sooner than expected,” Aoshi he replied, voice low.

He wanted to stay — to sit beside her and their son as if all the missing years had never existed. But he didn’t dare ask.

Instead, it was Hinata who hesitated first. Her fingers lingered over a pair of empty bowls.

“Would you… like to join us for dinner?”

Sasuke blinked, almost certain he’d misheard.

“Only if you want me to.”

“I do,” she said after a pause, still not meeting his eyes.

The three of them ate together for the first time that night. Aoshi chattered between mouthfuls about his training victories while Hinata smiled faintly and nodded. Sasuke hardly spoke — he only looked at her, memorising the curve of her smile, the softness of her hands as she passed him a bowl.

She felt his gaze more than once. Pretended not to. Yet somewhere deep inside, something long-sealed began to stir again — a dangerous warmth she’d sworn she would never feel.

When the meal ended, Aoshi yawned and excused himself to bed.
Hinata began to clear the dishes, but Sasuke rose silently and gathered them first.

“Please,” she said, reaching out. “You don’t have to—”
“Let me,” he interrupted gently.

She wanted to protest, but the quiet determination in his eyes stilled her. They worked side by side in silence, the closeness almost unbearable in its simplicity.

For Sasuke, it was a kind of peace he hadn’t known in years.
For Hinata, it was a reminder that she was still helplessly, hopelessly in love.

---

Sasuke walked alone along the quiet corridor of his private chambers, the evening sun casting long, amber shadows across the marble floor. For a long moment, he paused by the window, gazing down toward the small house at the hidden corner  palace grounds — the one hidden in the trees where Hinata and Aoshi now lived.

The memory of the afternoon’s moments with them played softly in his mind, like a song he had long thought lost. He remembered the tentative laughter of Aoshi as he demonstrated a new stance, his son’s pride shining through every movement. He remembered Hinata, her quiet grace unchanged, yet infused with a strength that had only deepened over the years. And he remembered the courage it took for her to extend that first invitation — dinner together, a simple gesture, yet one that had shaken him more than any battlefield ever could.

It was the first time since the rain-tinged encounter in the cabin that she had reached out, not waiting for him to take the step, not hiding behind caution or pride. Her initiative had been gentle, almost imperceptible, yet it had made all the difference.

He pressed a hand to his chest, feeling the steady beat beneath his palm. That moment — their small, shared meal, the laughter, the quiet intimacy of simply existing together — had reminded him of what he had long avoided: that life could be reclaimed, that the years of exile and duty had not erased what had once been pure and essential.

Sasuke inhaled deeply. The warmth of that memory, the clarity it brought, settled a weight on his shoulders he hadn’t realised he was still carrying. He had spent too long allowing circumstance, duty, and fear to dictate the course of his life. But no longer.

For the first time in years, he felt the reins of his own life in his hands — steady, deliberate, unflinching. Everything he had prepared, every quiet conversation with the council, every step with Naruto’s help, every strategy to preserve both the empire and the people he cared for — it had all led to this.

He turned from the window, eyes narrowing with resolve. He will finally act. He will confront the past, close the chapter that had never belonged to him, and reclaim the future he had long been denied.

Chapter Text

Days passed. The palace went about its usual rhythm, its halls echoing with formalities, council meetings, and ceremonial drills. But for Sasuke, the pulse of the empire felt distant, almost hollow. His mind, heart, and focus had shifted entirely.

In his private study, scrolls were spread across the polished oak desk — legal precedents, clauses, annotations, and letters to the Royal solicitor. He had long studied the paths to annulment and divorce, quietly consulting only those he trusted: Naruto and the royal councillor . For months, he had prepared this moment in thought, the empire no longer required Ino’s royal alliance. Treaties, strong armies, trade agreements, and careful investments over the past decade had rendered their union politically unnecessary. The empire could stand — and thrive — on its own.

Sasuke rose from his chair, his eyes lingering on the papers. “It is time,” he murmured. He picked up a quill and ink, and signed the final documents, his hand steady despite the storm of emotion he carried. With a calmness born of certainty, he sealed the papers and had a messenger discreetly deliver them to the Royal solicitor for immediate ratification.

By evening, the process was complete. The documents returned stamped, sealed, and official. The divorce was effective immediately, sanctioned under the king’s authority — his word was final, unassailable. Sasuke studied the parchment carefully, folding it with precision before slipping it into his cloak. Tonight, there would be no hesitation.

---
She tried to swallow, but the lump in her throat only grew tighter. Fourteen years. Fourteen years of silence, of patience, of hope that someday he would turn his eyes toward her — and with a single conversation, it was all undone.

Her breath caught, and the brush slipped from her fingers, clattering against the marble floor. She pressed both hands against her mouth as sobs wracked her chest. All the restraint, all the dignity she had maintained as queen, shattered like glass.

The palace outside slept, unaware of the storm breaking behind those gilded doors. For the first time in years, Ino cried without measure — not the silent tears of royal composure, but the raw, broken cries of a woman who had lost something she never truly had.

Flashback

The corridors of the palace were quiet, the deep hours of the evening lending a hushed reverence to the steps he took. Sasuke stopped outside Ino’s quarters, pausing for a breath. The weight of the coming confrontation pressed against him, but there was no wavering in his resolve. The years of duty, silence, and deception had led to this precise moment.

When he reached the queen’s chambers, the sound of a brush gliding through hair greeted him. Ino sat before a mirror, her reflection framed by candlelight, her movements slow and deliberate. Her surprise was immediate when she saw him standing in her doorway — the king who had not once stepped into her room in fifteen long years.

“Well,” she said, her tone sharp but guarded, “this is a surprise. What brings His Majesty to my humble quarters at such an hour?”

Sasuke’s face was unreadable. “To do what I should have done long ago,” he said calmly. “We are officially divorced.”

Ino froze, her hands trembling, her eyes still fixed on the reflection in the mirror.

“What… what do you mean?” she whispered, disbelief thick in her throat.

He stepped closer, his presence steady. “It has been made effective. By law, by royal decree, the council has ratified it. It is finalized. There is no action left to be taken; the decision is official.”

Tears welled in her eyes as she grasped the edge of the dressing table. “You… you didn’t even speak to me first?” Her voice rose, cracking with anguish. “You… you decided this alone?”

Sasuke’s expression softened, though his tone remained firm. “The council confirmed it. I handled every legal requirement personally. It was done swiftly to prevent scandal, to protect your dignity. You remain free to act as you see fit, and no one need know unless you wish them to.”

Ino’s hands fell to her lap, trembling. “But… why? Why now, after fifteen years? After all this time?”

He took a breath. “Because it’s the right thing to do. We have both lived a lie, Ino. Our marriage served its purpose — alliances were formed, peace was secured. But it was never love. You know that as well as I do.”

Her expression hardened. “And you think you can just end it like this? After nearly fifteen years?”

Sasuke didn’t flinch. “Yes. Quietly, respectfully. You deserve honesty, Ino, and I won’t keep pretending. You’ve been patient, far more than I deserved. But this cannot go on.”

For a moment, silence filled the room. Then her voice broke, trembling between fury and heartbreak. “You never tried! For years, I waited for you to let me in — to see me as more than a name on a treaty. You talk about honesty, Sasuke, but what about kindness? What about all those nights I sat alone, wondering if I was invisible to you?”

Sasuke’s expression softened with quiet remorse. “I warned you, from the beginning, what this was. I never forced you to marry me, and I never lied about my heart. You convinced yourself that love could be born from duty. That was your mistake — and mine, for allowing it to continue.”

Tears welled in her eyes. “Is there someone else?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

He met her gaze. “There has always been someone else.”

Her breath caught. “That servant…” she whispered, disbelief turning to bitter laughter. “You’re still in love with a ghost.”Ino’s tears fell freely now, her body trembling as the sobs wracked her chest. “You… you still think of her… after all this time?” she whispered, disbelief mingled with grief.

He said nothing. The silence between them was answer enough.

He stepped closer, his presence steady.

From the folds of his cloak, he produced a parchment sealed with the royal crest and extended it toward her. “Here. The papers are signed. By law, by royal decree, and with council approval — it is final. You may keep this as confirmation of your freedom.” “You may stay in the palace until you decide otherwise. You’ve served this empire well, and I’ll ensure you are treated with the dignity you deserve.”

End of flashback

Ino turned away, tears slipping silently down her cheeks as he left the room. The door closed behind him with a quiet echo — the sound of nearly fifteen years ending.

And somewhere across the palace, under the soft glow of moonlight, Hinata stirred in her sleep — unaware that her fate, and the fate of the man she loved, had just begun to change forever.

---

Chapter Text

The morning sunlight filtered through the palace windows, soft but insistent. In the grand dining hall, Mikoto noticed Ino’s absence at breakfast.

“She said she isn’t feeling well,” a servant remarked, curiosity flickering in her eyes but quickly dismissed. She didn’t press; after all, the queen often kept her own counsel.

---

Ino remained in her private chambers, the faint rustle of silk the only sound in the otherwise quiet room. At her side was Shikamaru, the royal guard assigned to her by her father after her marriage to Sasuke. For years, he had been more than a guard — a companion, a confidant, and, secretly, her night companion . He watched her with quiet intensity, knowing that the events of last night had shaken her to her core.

Shikamaru understood Sasuke’s position, the political necessity that had forced their union, and while he bore no hatred for the king, the sight of Ino’s quiet anguish pained him deeply. He remained steadfast, determined to support her, to keep her dignity intact, even as the emotional storm raged behind her composed exterior.

---

The morning sun spilled over the palace walls, casting long golden rays across the marble courtyard. The air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of jasmine from the gardens beyond. Guards moved silently along the periphery, and the distant clatter of training swords echoed faintly from the eastern grounds.

Sasuke stood beneath the light, his cape brushing the stone floor, the official divorce papers safely tucked within his cloak. The events of last night still weighed on him — Ino had been left distraught, her tears raw and unrestrained. And yet, despite the heartbreak, he knew he had done what was necessary. The divorce was official by law, ratified by the council, and for the first time in fifteen years, the truth of his heart was no longer concealed.

He spotted Naruto, who had come to the courtyard early for his own practice, moving with the effortless ease of a man trained in both body and spirit. The brightness of the morning seemed to soften the edges of the world, yet the tension around Sasuke remained taut, coiled like a bowstring.

“Naruto,” Sasuke called, his voice cutting cleanly through the quiet hum of the palace morning.

Naruto paused mid-step, wiping sweat from his brow, his stance shifting as he sensed the gravity of Sasuke’s tone. “Sasuke,” he said cautiously, eyes narrowing slightly. “Everything alright?”

Sasuke’s gaze was steady, unflinching, fixed on the friend who had always known him better than most. “Last night, I finalized it,” he said quietly. “The divorce — it’s official. I told Ino. She’s distraught, but… it was necessary.”

Naruto’s brow furrowed. “That’s… a lot. You really went through with it.” He hesitated, then asked cautiously, “Does anyone else know?”

Sasuke exhaled slowly. “So far, only Ino, of course. Probably Shikamaru as well — he has served her closely for years, and he is… her confidant in ways few understand. The Royal counsellor knows. And you.” He met Naruto’s eyes, dark and serious. “For now, I haven’t told my mother. I feel this is the bare minimum I can do — to manage it quietly, without unnecessary pain or scandal.”

Naruto nodded slowly, taking in the weight of the moment. “Alright,” he said, determination flickering in his eyes. “I’ll respect that. You want me to handle Aoshi for the day?”

Sasuke stepped closer, voice firm. “Yes. Take him out — training, errands, whatever he needs. I’ll meet you after dusk.”

Naruto’s lips pressed into a firm line, understanding without needing further words. He had seen this look in Sasuke before — the quiet certainty of a man standing at the precipice of a decision he could no longer delay.

“I’ve got it,” Naruto said, nodding. “You focus on what you need to do.”

Sasuke’s dark eyes softened slightly, acknowledging the concern even as resolve hardened his features. “I must act now,” he murmured, almost to himself, before turning toward the path that would lead him back to the forest and the meeting he had been preparing for — the one that would finally set the course of his heart and his family straight.

---

Later, in the quiet of the old cedar shrine, Sasuke knelt, the cool stone beneath his knees grounding him. The faint scent of incense mingled with the song of distant cicadas.

“Father,” he murmured, bowing his head, “if I’ve ever needed your strength, it’s now. I must make this right.”

Rising, Sasuke lifted the bucket of camellias — her flowers — and left the quiet of the palace, moving toward the paths that led into the woods. The sun filtered through the trees, yet his mind was entirely focused. He had to see her — and safely.

---

When he reached her door, he knocked softly. Hinata opened it, startled.

“Sasuke? What—” she began, eyes wide.

“I need a moment of your time,” he said quietly but firmly. “Just this once. Please.” He held out the flowers, the familiar scent of camellias carrying the weight of years.

Hinata’s instinct was to refuse, to retreat into caution. But the earnestness in his eyes — the raw vulnerability — made her pause.

“Just this once,” he repeated, voice gentler now, almost a plea. “That’s all I ask. I’ve chosen a place where no one can see us. Meet me at the eastern part in the woods, by the Yugasaki trees, and we’ll go from there.”

She hesitated, then nodded, understanding the need for secrecy. Sasuke gave her a small, relieved smile. “Dress warmly,” he advised. “I’ll go ahead to avoid questions.”

---

The path through the woods was soft with moss and memory. When Hinata arrived at the secluded point he had described, the late morning sun painted the ground in dappled gold. She found him waiting beside the half-fallen tree — the same tree marking the edge of their childhood meadow.

“You remember this place,” he said quietly, voice heavy with meaning.

“Of course I do,” she replied, trembling. “I didn’t think you would.”

The meadow opened before them, wildflowers swaying in the light breeze. The same hidden field where they had once laughed, trained, and whispered names no one else could hear.

“After everything, you still kept it…” Hinata’s voice caught, emotion rising in her chest.

“It’s the only place that ever felt real,” Sasuke answered, meeting her gaze fully. In that moment, the walls built by years of duty, distance, and regret seemed to vanish.

It was now or never.
---

Chapter Text

The air was still and golden that afternoon, the meadow alive with the hum of insects and the soft rustle of wind through tall grass. Hinata stood a few paces from the path, her hands folded before her, unsure if she had made a mistake in coming.

It had been years since she last saw Sasuke alone — not as the prince of the Uchiha Empire, not as a man bound by duty, but as the boy she once knew. The sight of him now, waiting by a small spread of cloth and a few carefully placed items — a simple pitcher of tea, a basket with food, two cups, and a folded blanket — stirred something strange in her chest.

It was almost romantic, and that realization unsettled her more than she cared to admit.

Sasuke noticed her hesitation. His gaze followed hers toward the arrangement before flicking back to her face. “You’re wondering why I came to find you,” his voice low, unreadable, yet something in its tone carried a fragile warmth.

Hinata opened her mouth, perhaps to make an excuse, to step away before the past could swallow her whole, but he spoke again before she could find the words.

“I’ve divorced Ino,” he said quietly, deliberately, letting the weight of the words sink in.

The words hit her harder than she expected — sharp, unguarded, final.

For a moment, she could only stare at him, her lips parted in disbelief. She had imagined countless possibilities for this meeting: perhaps he wanted to finally acknowledge their son, perhaps to settle things formally between them, perhaps even to offer a truce. But this — this she had never allowed herself to hope for.

She swallowed, struggling for composure. “And… does anyone else know?”

Sasuke hesitated just a moment, then said quietly, “So far… only you, Naruto, the Royal Councillor, and I. I haven’t even told my mother yet. It felt like the bare minimum I could do.”

Her breath caught. The secrecy, the weight of the moment, made her heart race. “All… all right,” she murmured, though her mind was spinning.

Sasuke’s gaze softened as it lingered on her. Instead of answering further, his eyes shifted downward, toward her wrist. “You still wear it,” he said.

It took Hinata a moment to realize what he meant — the bracelet. The one she had woven as proof of their love when they were young, a twin to the necklace he used to wear. Her pulse quickened.

“I’m surprised it still fits you,” he added, a faint ghost of a smile touching his lips.

Hinata blinked, startled by the sudden turn in topic. “You… noticed?”

“I noticed the moment I saw you again,” he said simply. “At the cabin.”

She didn’t know what to say. Her fingers brushed the bracelet instinctively. “It was a promise,” she murmured at last. “And I always keep my promises.”

He gave a small, wary smile — that same half-smirk she remembered from long ago, the one that could both infuriate and disarm her. “You’ve always been the honorable one,” he said. “It doesn’t surprise me that Aoshi turned out the way he did.”

For a heartbeat, warmth flickered in her chest — a dangerous, foolish warmth. But it vanished almost as quickly as it came.

“Stop it,” she said, voice trembling. “Please stop saying things like that. You can’t walk in as if nothing happened, then talk about my son as though—” She caught her breath, frustration rising. “Do you think this is a game? All of it? The visits, the offers to help, the flowers, pretending we’re just friends? I’m too old for secrets, Sasuke. We’re not children anymore.”

Her voice cracked, and tears threatened at the edges of her lashes. “You can’t keep breaking me apart every time you show up and then vanish again.”

The words came out in a rush — years of silence collapsing at once. She turned away, trembling, trying to hold herself together.

Then she felt his hand — gentle, steady — on her arm. When she looked up, he was closer than she expected. His eyes searched hers, full of something raw, almost desperate.

“Hinata,” he said softly. “Please. Just hear me.”

The world seemed to narrow to the space between them — the sound of their breathing, the wild thrum of her heart, the scent of grass and rain. Memories surged like a flood: a moonlit balcony, whispered promises, a parting she had never recovered from.

For a heartbeat, neither moved. Then, almost instinctively, Sasuke lifted his hand and cupped her face, his thumb brushing away the tear that had escaped. She froze — torn between anger, grief, and the unbearable familiarity of his touch.

It had been fifteen years. Fifteen years without his voice, without the warmth that once felt like home.

She wanted to push him away. She wanted to scream. But instead, she just stood there, trembling, as the space between them dissolved — not with passion, but with everything they had never said.

When they finally pulled apart, both were lost in their thoughts, their foreheads resting together as if the act of simply existing that close might undo all the pain in the world.

“This shouldn’t be happening,” she whispered, voice breaking. “You’re married… well, you were married. No matter what you feel about her, I can’t—I won’t be the other woman. I have a son. I have to be better than that.”

Sasuke’s eyes didn’t waver. “I’ve never touched her,” he said quietly.

Hinata’s breath caught. “What?”

“My marriage to Ino was political,” he continued, his voice steady but heavy. “It was never… real. Not in the way people think. You can ask anyone in the palace. They whisper about it — that I’m cold, that I’m incapable, that I’m… broken.” His jaw tightened. “I let them think it. It was easier than explaining the truth.”

Hinata shook her head, unable to process it all. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because you deserve to know what really happened.”

---

He spoke of the years after her disappearance — the grief that hollowed him, the wars that demanded his obedience, the vows he made to a kingdom that no longer felt like home. He spoke of the empty halls, of his indifference towards Ino, of a life lived for duty but never for love.

Hinata listened in stillness, though her heart trembled with every word. She learned of his lonely nights, of his endless guilt, and the way he had silently kept a place for her in his life — her room, her memory, their love.

…….

The afternoon light filtered through the canopy of leaves, painting patches of gold across the meadow. The tree under which they sat was old — its trunk broad and weathered, its roots half-buried in the moss-covered ground. A soft breeze carried the scent of earth and wildflowers, whispering through the branches above them.

Sasuke sat with his back against the rough bark, his cape resting beside him, loosened and forgotten for the first time in years. Beside him, Hinata sat upon a woven carpet, the edges embroidered with simple, faded patterns. Her hands rested on her knees, her long hair catching the light like dark silk.

Between them stretched a silence that was both fragile and full — a silence made not of discomfort, but of things too deep for words.

She looked down at her hands, pale and small against the weave of the carpet. He suffered because of her, she realized. Because he believed he wasn’t strong enough to save her.

The wind stirred again, gentle but insistent, rustling the leaves above them. And then Hinata broke the silence.

“I don’t hate you, Sasuke,” she said softly, her voice almost carried away by the breeze. “Fate… has simply been unfair to us both. Cruel, even. But maybe it brought us back together for a reason.”

Sasuke turned his head slightly, his dark eyes searching hers, his expression unreadable yet softer than she remembered.

“Aoshi,” Hinata continued, smiling faintly as she said their son’s name. “He is that reason. He’s the proof that what we shared once wasn’t lost — that it still lives, even now.”

Something flickered in Sasuke’s gaze — something like warmth, like a quiet light returning after a long winter.

Hinata’s words flowed gently, like a river easing through stone. She told him about their life in the cabin deep in the forest, the humble life she had built there with Aoshi and Lady Tsunade. “It was simple,” she said. “But it was home. Tsunade saved my life, and his. I’ll forever owe her more than I can say.”

Sasuke said nothing, only listened — his shoulders easing, his breath slower now. The chirping of crickets filled the pauses between her words.

After a while, she spoke again, her tone quieter. “During my pregnancy,” she said, eyes lowered, “I kept a diary. I wrote down everything — the aches, the hopes, the dreams I had for our son. I wanted to give it to you one day. I still have it. Even after all these years.”

Her voice trembled slightly. “I’m sorry for everything Sasuke, it was never my intention to do this to you, to us. I felt hurt and betrayed… But I also feared for his fate, a child born out of wedlock to a servant and the newlywed king… Our son would’ve been seen as a pariah.”

Sasuke’s hand shifted against the grass, his fingers brushing the edge of the carpet. “Hinata,” he said quietly, “you don’t have to apologize. You did what you had to do. You and Aoshi — being here now — that’s enough.”

His lips curved slightly, a ghost of a smile. “Though I’d be lying if I said I don’t wish he’d stop calling me ‘old man.’”

Hinata laughed softly, the sound carrying through the open air like a melody. “He means no harm,” she said, her eyes warm with amusement. “It’s his way of showing affection.”

“I know,” Sasuke replied. “But I think… deep down, he sees me as such in a way. He perceives me as his father.”

Her eyes softened. “He does,” she whispered.

For a time, they sat in silence again. The light shifted, the day beginning its slow descent into dusk. Sasuke looked down at the grass between his boots, his fingers curling as though struggling against a thought.

….

When he finally spoke, his voice low — hesitant. “Hinata… may I ask you something?”

She turned to him, curious.

“During those years,” he said, not meeting her eyes at first, “was there anyone else? Someone you… maybe loved?”

Hinata blinked, startled by the question.

“I know I’ve no right to ask,” he continued, his tone rough with embarrassment. “Especially after… everything I’ve done. But I have to know.”

For a heartbeat, she just stared at him — the proud, stoic warrior now reduced to a man uncertain, almost shy in his vulnerability. And then, softly, she smiled.

“You’re jealous,” she said, her voice gentle, teasing.

He frowned slightly, turning away. “Protective,” he muttered under his breath.

She laughed quietly, a sound that melted years of distance. “You haven’t changed,” she whispered.

Her laughter faded, and her tone grew sincere. “No, Sasuke. There was never anyone else. My family these years has been Aoshi and Tsunade. That was all I ever needed.” Her eyes found his, steady and clear. “I never wanted another man. I never could. Because I’ve only ever loved one man.” Her words hung in the air like a vow.

Sasuke looked at her, his breath caught, his heart pounding beneath his chest armor. Slowly, as though afraid to break the moment, he reached out — his fingers brushing against her chin, then her jaw, before resting gently at the back of her head.

He searched her gaze, his own filled with questions, apologies, and love that had survived the years. He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to.

Hinata didn’t move away.

Their faces drew closer, the space between them narrowing until the world seemed to fade — until all that remained was the sound of leaves rustling above and the thrum of two hearts finding each other again.

When their lips met, it was soft — hesitant at first, then deep, full, carrying everything: the pain of separation, the forgiveness they both needed, the love that time had refused to erase.

Hinata’s hands rose to his shoulders, feeling the warmth of him beneath her fingertips. The years apart dissolved like mist. The world had been cruel, but here, under this old tree, they were whole again.

When they finally pulled apart, the evening sun bathed them in amber light. They leaned their foreheads together, breath mingling, noses brushing in that familiar, tender way they had once shared in secret.

No words were spoken — none were needed.

That kiss had changed everything — or perhaps, it had simply reminded them of what had never truly ended.

And neither of them, not this time, would ever let it slip away again.

---

Chapter Text

The meadow had fallen into silence, save for the murmur of the wind through the branches. The great oak that had watched over them for hours now stood as silent witness to their rediscovered love.

The kiss had broken the last fragile thread of restraint between them. Time, duty, rank — all had crumbled to dust. There was no crown prince and no servant. There were only Sasuke and Hinata — the two souls who had once found each other in the shadows of the castle and, after years of grief and exile, had found their way back beneath the open sky.

In that moment, nothing else mattered.

They sought solace in each other — not out of desire alone, but from a yearning older than either of them could remember. The night folded around them, soft and forgiving, as they let their hearts speak in the quiet language of touch and closeness, of whispered names and forgotten warmth.

Soft murmurs and gentle grunts broke the silence that had reigned over the night. Two souls had found their way back to where they truly belonged. It was not a carnal ritual, but a celebration of love expressed through tender touches, whispered confessions, and soft "I love yous" shared between lingering kisses. In each other’s arms, Sasuke and Hinata found refuge, a sanctuary that had eluded them for what felt like a lifetime.

When the storm of feeling at last quieted, the world returned to stillness.
….
The moon hung low above the tree line, spilling its pale light across the field. On the carpet beneath the oak, they lay together — breathless and wordless, wrapped in the peace that only comes after years of silence finally breaking.

Hinata rested her head upon Sasuke’s bare chest, her ear pressed to the steady thrum of his heartbeat. The rhythm soothed her; each rise and fall of his chest was like a promise renewed. His arm encircled her waist, drawing her close, while his other hand idly brushed through her hair, the motion gentle, habitual — something he had always done when they were young. Every so often, he would lower his head and place a soft kiss upon her forehead, as though afraid that if he stopped, she might vanish again.

The night air was cool, and his skin was warm beneath her cheek. Her fingers moved without thought, tracing the faint scars that life and battle had carved into him. But then, they brushed against something familiar — a glint of silver against his skin, half-hidden in the moonlight.

Hinata blinked, her breath catching as her fingers came to rest on a small pendant — a simple necklace, its cord slightly frayed but the charm still shining.

Her eyes widened. “You… still have this,” she whispered, her voice barely more than breath.

Sasuke looked down at her hand resting over the pendant. “Of course I do.”

Hinata lifted herself slightly, the blanket slipping from her shoulder, leaving exposed her femininine attributes bare for any gaze that wandered too close.. Her gaze softened as she traced the outline of the charm — the same one she had given him so long ago, when he had turned eleven. A small crystal stone bound with silver wire, once meant to bind them forever.

“You said it would keep us together no matter what… that it would remind me to come back home, no matter how far I went.”

Her lips trembled into a smile. “I didn’t think you’d keep it this long.”

Sasuke’s hand moved to cover hers, pressing her palm gently against his chest — over the pendant, over his heart. “I’ve broken many promises, Hinata,” he said quietly. “Too many. But not this one. I swore I would never forget you.”

His gaze met hers — dark, steady, and filled with something that almost hurt to look at. “I already failed you once,” he whispered. “I won’t fail you again. Not in this, not in any of it.”

The sincerity in his voice stole her breath. For a moment, she could only look at him — the moonlight tracing the sharp line of his jaw, the softness in his eyes that only she had ever seen.

“I never blamed you,” she said, her voice trembling. “Not even then, when I saw you with her by your side as your wife.”

He exhaled, his thumb brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. “You should have.”

Hinata shook her head slowly. “No. You came back to me. That’s all that matters.”

A faint, broken smile touched his lips. He leaned forward, pressing a kiss to her lips to which she gladly accepted— a long, lingering touch full of quiet devotion. Her hand remained on his chest, over the pendant, over his heart.

They stayed that way for a long while, the sound of their breathing mingling with the whisper of the night breeze.
…..

Eventually, Sasuke’s voice broke the silence, soft but certain. “The divorce is finalized. It was done by law, by the council. Ino knows, and I handled it as respectfully as I could.”

Hinata’s fingers stilled. She looked up at him, searching his face. “Sasuke… please,” she said gently. “Don’t be harsh with her.”

He frowned slightly.

“She may not have understood us,” Hinata went on, “but she did love you — in her own way. Don’t make her your enemy. Let it end kindly.”

For a moment, Sasuke didn’t answer. Then he sighed, running a hand through her hair again. “You always ask me to be kinder than I know how,” he murmured.

She smiled faintly. “Because kindness is the only thing that never weakens a person.”

He chuckled under his breath. “You’re still the same,” he said softly. “Always thinking of everyone else first.”

They lay together a while longer before rising. Sasuke stood first, offering her his hand, helping her to her feet. The moonlight caught the curve of her face as she gathered her shawl around her shoulders.

He turned to look at her then — truly look — and something inside him stilled. Fifteen years had changed her; the shy, gentle girl he once knew had become a woman of quiet strength and grace. The sight of her stole his words.

Hinata noticed his silence and tilted her head, curious. “What is it?”

He didn’t answer at once. His gaze lingered on her, his breath caught in his chest.

“Sasu?” she asked, her voice soft and uncertain — the name slipping out before she could stop herself.

His eyes widened faintly, then softened. The sound of that name — that name — tore through him like light through shadow. Without thinking, he stepped closer, cupping her cheek in his palm. He pressed a slow kiss there, then rested his forehead against hers, their noses brushing as they once had.

“Say it again,” he whispered.

Hinata blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

“That name,” he murmured. “Say it again.”

Her breath trembled. She hadn’t realized what she’d said — hadn’t realized that her heart had spoken before her mind. “Sasu…” she whispered again, the syllables heavy with memory.

He smiled — a rare, unguarded, boyish smile that erased the years between them. “I never thought I’d hear you call me that again,” he said quietly.

She lowered her eyes, warmth blooming in her chest. “Neither did I.”

They lingered like that for a moment more — two souls caught between past and present, bound by a love that refused to die.

…

When they finally turned toward the palace, the moon was high above them, casting a soft glow over the winding path. They walked side by side, their hands occasionally brushing as they spoke in hushed voices.

Hinata’s tone grew thoughtful. “Sasu,” she began softly, “… what will this divorce mean for the empire? For the people?”

He glanced at her, half-amused by her question.

“I know a king can divorce,” she went on, “but it’s not something the court welcomes. Ino’s kingdom is powerful. Your marriage united the nations — ensured peace. If that bond breaks, will the peace break too?”

Sasuke smiled faintly. “You still worry more for the people than for yourself,” he said.

Hinata frowned lightly. “I only ask because I know what kind of burdens a king must carry.”

He nodded, his eyes forward. “I thought of that, too. From the moment you returned from the cabin, I began to prepare. I studied every precedent, every law that would allow this separation. For years I built our armies strong enough that we no longer depend on her nation’s strength. We have trade treaties and diplomatic pacts that will hold even if her family chooses to withdraw.”

He turned his head, meeting her gaze with quiet determination. “There may be unrest, yes. Some will disapprove. But they already know I never loved her. They’ve known it for years. I married for peace, but peace bought with lies can’t last.”

Hinata looked at him with a mixture of awe and sadness. “You’ve thought of everything,” she murmured.

“I had fifteen years to think,” he replied simply.

For a moment, they walked in silence, the crunch of grass beneath their feet the only sound. When the palace came into view — its towers silvered beneath the moonlight — Hinata exhaled softly, almost wistfully.

“Sasu,” she whispered, her hand brushing his.

He turned toward her, and in that fleeting touch — that single shared glance — lay every promise that words could not carry.

Fate had torn them apart once. But this time, they would not yield.

The old wounds had healed beneath the great tree. And now, together, they would begin again.

Chapter Text

The remaining of way her journey back home was a silent one . The night’s cool breeze followed her inside, carrying the faint scent of blooming lilies from the royal gardens. Her heart was still echoing with the rhythm of what had happened beneath the tree — the warmth of Sasuke’s chest, the trembling of his breath against her lips, the sound of promises reborn. Yet as she stepped into the familiar threshold of her home, reality greeted her in the form of a soft, worried voice.

“Ma?”

Aoshi was standing by the dinner table, his dark hair falling messily into his eyes. The half-finished meal beside him had long gone cold. As soon as he saw her, he pushed the chair back and ran toward her, the seriousness in his face betraying his youth.

“Where were you? You never stay out this late,” he said, his voice caught between concern and the restrained tone of a young man who was trying, perhaps too early, to act like an adult.

Hinata smiled softly and reached to cup his cheek. “Oh, Aoshi love… I’m sorry for worrying you. I went for a walk through the the town square. The night was so calm I lost track of time.”

He frowned a little, still unconvinced. “You could’ve at least sent someone, Ma. I thought something happened.”

Her heart swelled at the word Ma. No matter how tall he had grown, how mature his words had become, he was still the same boy who used to clutch her kimono with his tiny hands whenever thunder rumbled in the sky. She reached up, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. “You’ve always been so protective,” she whispered tenderly. “You remind me so much of—”
She stopped herself.

“Of who?” he asked curiously.

“Of someone very dear to me,” she said after a moment, her voice soft and full of meaning he could not yet grasp.

They sat together at the table. The candlelight flickered over Aoshi’s face, illuminating the faint resemblance to his father that became more striking with every passing day — the strong jawline, the determined eyes, and the quiet intensity. Hinata listened as he spoke animatedly about his training sessions.

“Master Naruto says my form is improving,” he said proudly. “He even said I might be ready to spar with the palace guards soon. And I met two of them — Riku and Hane — they said I’ve got real potential.”

Hinata chuckled softly, warmth spilling through her tired soul. “I’m sure you impressed them all, as always.”

He grinned, and for a moment he looked like the child he once was, the boy who used to chase fireflies outside their little cabin, laughing until his cheeks hurt. She reached over, took his hand, and pressed a kiss to his knuckles.

“You’re growing too fast, Aoshi,” she whispered, her eyes shining with emotion. “But no matter how tall or strong you become, you’ll always be my little boy — my greatest blessing.”

He smiled sheepishly and squeezed her hand. “I’ll always be your son, ma. You don’t need to worry about that.”

Her lips trembled at the simplicity and purity of his words. For a brief, sacred moment, the world outside — the palace, the titles, the secrets — faded. There was only a mother and her son, bathed in candlelight and love.

When Aoshi finally retired to bed, Hinata lingered by the table. The candle flame flickered low, its light trembling against the parchment before her. She took a quill, dipped it in ink, and began to write.

> Dearest Tsunade,

> It has been some time since I last wrote, and the palace feels both grand and heavy. I hope you are well, my dearest friend. I miss the simplicity of our days at the cabin — the scent of pine, the sound of laughter, the peace that lived in that humble place.

> Things have changed. Sasuke’s presence in my life has only grown, and so has the weight upon his shoulders. I am frightened, Tsunade — not of him, but of what our love could mean for him, for me, for our son. You once told me that love is both a weapon and a healing hand. I fear which one it will be for us.

> Aoshi does not know the truth yet. He must not — not until the time is right. He has your discipline and his father’s fire, and I pray that the world will be kind to him. But I fear what will happen when the truth of his bloodline is known. He deserves peace, not the burden of a crown’s sin.

> Still… I trust Sasuke. Against all odds, I trust him.

> With love, always — Hinata.

She sealed the letter with trembling fingers, then blew out the candle. Darkness embraced the room, and she lay upon her bed, clutching the bracelet she still wore — the twin to the one Sasuke kept close to his heart. Her last thought before sleep claimed her was of him — his promise, his touch, the vow in his eyes.

---

The courtyard was quiet beneath the fading night, silver mist curling around the marble columns and the soft rustle of leaves echoing from the garden beyond. The world was still — except for the steady sound of boots striking stone.

Sasuke’s steps were deliberate, heavy with thought. He had barely slept. The scent of wildflowers and Hinata’s voice still lingered on his mind, clashing against the duties that awaited him within the palace walls.

As he turned the corner, a familiar silhouette awaited him in the torchlight.

Naruto stood near the balustrade, arms crossed, eyes sharp and knowing. “Well?” he asked.

Sasuke met his gaze without hesitation. “It went better than I could have imagined,” he said quietly. “This time… I think I can finally make things right.”

Naruto’s expression softened with something between disbelief and relief. “You’re really going through with it, huh?”

“Yes.” Sasuke’s voice was calm, resolute. “It’s done. The divorce was finalized last night — official by law. Ino knows, the Royal Councillor knows, and you. No one else. I haven’t even told my mother. That right belongs to Ino.”

Naruto nodded slowly, then hesitated before asking, “And you’re sure she won’t say anything? I mean… you know how fast word travels in the capital.”

Sasuke’s eyes darkened, thoughtful but steady. “She won’t. Not yet.”

“You sound awfully confident,” Naruto said, folding his arms tighter.

“I know her,” Sasuke replied, his tone low, certain. “I may have never loved her — never even tried to — but I understand the kind of woman she is. Ino carries her pride like a crown. She won’t announce her own humiliation to the world so easily. Not while the weight of her surname still matters. She’ll keep silent until she’s ready to control the story herself.”

Naruto frowned slightly. “And when she does?”

“Then I’ll deal with it,” Sasuke said simply. “But for now, her pride buys me time — time I need to rebuild what truly matters.”

Naruto tilted his head. “Hinata.”

Sasuke’s gaze softened. “Hinata… and Aoshi.”

Naruto studied him for a long moment before speaking again. “What about the boy? Are you planning to tell him who you really are?”

Sasuke’s expression shifted — the faintest trace of pain flickering behind his calm. “Not yet. It’s too soon.”

He exhaled slowly, his voice quiet but firm. “Right now, I need to be in his life, but carefully. I want him to trust me as myself before he knows me as his father. The divorce alone will cause enough scandal once it becomes public. But the truth about Aoshi…” He trailed off, his jaw tightening. “That would be another storm entirely.”

Naruto nodded, the weight of those words sinking in.

“I don’t care what they say about me,” Sasuke continued, his tone gaining edge. “Let them call me a hypocrite, a failure of a man — I’ve heard worse. But I won’t let them drag Hinata through the mud for choices that were mine alone. She’s a Hyuga — her name is already an unfair burden upon her. I won’t have her seen as a woman who lured a king or bore a child in shame. And I won’t let Aoshi grow up being whispered about as the black sheep born out of scandal.”

Naruto’s features softened. “You’re thinking ahead. That’s good.”

Sasuke nodded once. “This time, I have to. I owe them that.”

For a long moment, silence fell between them — the kind of silence that needed no filling. Then Naruto pushed off the wall and clapped Sasuke lightly on the shoulder. “You’ve come a long way, you know that? I’m proud of you Sasuke.”

Sasuke gave a faint, tired smirk. “Don’t start getting sentimental on me.”

Naruto chuckled. “Never. Just… don’t screw it up this time.”

Sasuke’s eyes turned toward the pale horizon. “I don’t intend to.”

The dawn light caught the edge of his cloak as he turned toward the palace steps. The moon was shining over the spires — a new beginning for a man who had finally begun to put his ghosts to rest.

Chapter Text

A week had passed since the divorce was sealed.
Life in the palace continued, many unaware that the kingdom’s most guarded secret had already been written into law.
---
Ino spent those seven days behind closed doors.
The news had struck her like a blade — not for its suddenness, but for its finality. Though she had expected it for years, she had never imagined what it would feel like to wake and know she was no longer queen.

She claimed illness.
Shikamaru, faithful as ever, arranged the physician’s report himself — a carefully crafted diagnosis that would excuse her from any duty for at least two weeks. Mikoto accepted it with quiet concern and visited her each morning, unaware of the deeper truth hiding behind those drawn curtains.

Ino had been born into privilege and power — a princess of noble blood, groomed from childhood to embody perfection. Every lesson, every whisper, every look had shaped her into the image of what a royal woman must be: graceful, intelligent, untouchable.
Love, she had been taught, was secondary to duty; affection could be learned, desire could be hidden, but dignity was non-negotiable.

And so, even as a young girl, Ino had carried herself with the steel-like poise her station demanded.
But beneath the calm exterior had always lived a quiet, frightened woman — one who had never been allowed to choose her path, only to walk the one laid before her.

When Sasuke was named her future husband, she didn’t protest. She had adored him since their youth, admired his strength, envied his quiet confidence. And when the attack struck and Hinata vanished from public life, Ino saw it — painfully, shamefully — as fate opening its hand.
When Sasuke offered marriage, not out of love but of politics, she accepted without hesitation. She had told herself that love could grow where proximity existed, that his distance was only the result of grief. For five years, she waited for that grief to soften. For ten more, she convinced herself it someday might.

But deep down, she had always known the truth: she was a queen by title, a stranger in her own marriage.

---

Now, stripped of her crown, she faced what she had never dared to see — that her pride, her calculated coldness, and even her cruelty were not born of malice but of survival. It was the armor she had been forced to wear since birth. The only way she knew how to be seen, how to matter, was through perfection. And perfection left no room for weakness… or heartbreak.

That realization came one rain-heavy evening in her third year of marriage as she sat by the window, sake trembling in her glass. Shikamaru sat nearby, silent, his presence steady but kind. The firelight cast long shadows across the room, flickering against the pale blue of her gown.

Flashback

“He will never love me,” she murmured, her voice cracking. “He won’t even look at me in the eye.”

Shikamaru didn’t answer. He knew her too well to try to console her with lies.

Her hand tightened around the glass. “Do you know what’s worse? I knew. I always knew. But I thought if I tried hard enough — if I became everything he needed — he would eventually see me. Not as a duty. Not as a title. Just… me.”

Her words dissolved into a bitter laugh. “But people like us don’t get to be seen, do we? We’re born to serve the image, not the heart.”

Shikamaru looked at her — not as a queen, but as a woman stripped bare of pretense — and saw in her all the contradictions of nobility: the grace, the pain, the unbearable loneliness.

He had loved her quietly for years, never daring to step beyond the invisible line that separated guard from monarch. Yet that night, when she reached for his hand, trembling but sure, he didn’t pull away.

Her voice lowered to a whisper. “You see me, don’t you?”

“I always have,” he said simply.

That was all it took.
One moment of truth between two people long starved of it.
When she kissed him, it wasn’t born of passion alone but of relief — of finally being allowed to exist without performance.

And for the first time in her life, Ino let herself be imperfect.

That night marked the beginning of their affair.

---

Meanwhile, in the upper chambers of the palace, Sasuke’s life resumed with its relentless rhythm.
Meetings, treaties, and councils filled his days — trade routes expanded, alliances strengthened. No one suspected that, each evening, when the ink dried and the candles burned low, he would vanish from his study and ride toward the edge of the palace.

To Hinata’s home.

Sometimes he would arrive bearing a flower — a simple bloom from the palace gardens, nothing grand. Other times, he would come with Aoshi, dropping the boy at the threshold after a day of training .
And on those rare afternoons when the house stood quiet, when the world seemed willing to grant him mercy, he and Hinata would steal moments that belonged only to them.

---

On the seventh day, the sky turned silver with rain, and Sasuke cleared his schedule.
No council, no envoys. Only her.

The house smelled faintly of jasmine and cedar when he entered. Hinata greeted him with a soft smile, her hair loose over her shoulders, her eyes calm in that way that always steadied him.

Hours passed in unhurried ease. They talked about Aoshi, about Tsunade’s sharp tongue and Naruto’s clumsy cooking attempts; they laughed quietly, the sound filling the small room like sunlight breaking through old clouds.

Later, they lay close — the kind of closeness that needed no words.
Hinata’s head rested against his chest, her fingers idly tracing the cord of his necklace. He held her as though afraid she might fade into smoke, his hand gently brushing through her hair.

When she spoke, her voice was a whisper against his skin.
“Do you think she’ll tell your mother?”

He didn’t answer at once. His gaze drifted toward the rain sliding down the windowpane. “No,” he said at last, quiet but certain. “Not yet. Ino’s pride won’t allow it. She’ll wear silence like armor. For her, admitting the divorce would mean admitting defeat — and she was raised never to lose.”

Hinata nodded slowly, though her brow furrowed. “And when she does?”

Sasuke’s expression softened. “Then I’ll face whatever comes. But for now, her pride buys us time — time I intend to use wisely.”

Hinata’s heart tightened at his words. “You’ve thought about everything,” she murmured.

He smiled faintly, brushing his thumb along her jaw. “I’ve had fifteen years to think remember.”

She laughed softly as she positioned herself on top of Sasuke’s lap, making the blanket covering her slip exposing her female attributes and the marks of passion he’d left on her. “You sound like an old man when you say it like that.”

“Only when you make me feel young again,” he replied, half-smiling while gently caressing the exposed skin of her thighs.

Her cheeks flushed as she lowered her gaze, but the warmth between them grew. She shifted closer, her fingers intertwining with his. Their laughter softened into quiet conversation — confessions of longing and hope, the kind spoken only between hearts that had already broken once and learned to mend.

---

As the afternoon deepened, they moved to sit by the window. The rain had slowed to a mist, and the air smelled of wet grass and earth. Hinata leaned against his shoulder, her hand resting over his heart.

He glanced down at her. “Hinata,” he said softly. “When the time comes — when the truth can’t be hidden anymore — we’ll tell Aoshi together. But not yet. I want to give him time to see me not as a stranger, but as something familiar.”

She nodded, her eyes glistening. “He already sees you that way,” she whispered. “Even if he doesn’t know why.”

Sasuke smiled, his thumb brushing the back of her hand. “Then I’ll make sure he never doubts it.”

The rain outside thickened again, drumming gently against the glass. Hinata turned to him, her expression tender, her voice barely audible.
“You’re not the same man you were, Sasu. You’ve changed.”

He looked at her then — truly looked — and saw reflected in her eyes the peace he had chased for half his life. “You did that,” he said quietly. “You and our son.”

She smiled through the shimmer of tears. “Then maybe… we both found our way home.”

They stayed like that until dusk — two souls bound by quiet love, by memory, by the fragile miracle of second chances.
Outside, the storm passed, and the first stars began to appear — small, distant lights, steady and patient, like hope itself.

---

Chapter Text

The sun had barely risen, spilling pale light over the quiet streets of the town. She moved carefully through the town whenever she left the safety of her home. The world had changed in subtle but significant ways over the years, and much of it was because of Sasuke. His efforts to rebuild bridges between clans, to lift old prejudices, and to ensure the Hyūga were no longer whispered about as outcasts had not gone unnoticed.

She had kept in touch from a distance for years, hearing rumors of trade agreements, speeches, and interventions that improved her people’s standing. Respect replaced suspicion; admiration tempered wariness. And yet, she remained cautious. Even with the world’s perception shifting, she could not risk attention — not for herself, and especially not for Aoshi.

Her pale lavender eyes, framed by a hood and the fringe of her hair, flickered nervously as she walked past familiar streets.

She knew, it was Sasuke’s doing. Every treaty, every act of diplomacy, every discreet defense of her clan had quietly reshaped society’s view of the Hyūga.
She felt a surge of gratitude — and a pang of responsibility. The delicate balance of secrecy she maintained now, her careful avoidance of public notice, was built upon years of painstaking work by the man she loved. It made every small precaution she took — hiding her eyes, lowering her hood, moving quietly — feel heavier, yet more necessary.

Her steps carried her forward, purposeful yet wary, toward the herbalist’s shop, the memory of old visits mingling with her need for discretion. The world had changed, but she could not afford even a single misstep. Not when what she carried — her own safety, her autonomy, her son, and the fragile family she was rebuilding — depended on it.

She hesitated at the door of the old herbalist’s shop. In her younger days, she had frequented this place, purchasing tonics discreetly, always careful to avoid drawing attention. A pang of hesitation gripped her — what if the woman who had once sold her remedies still worked here, and recognized her? The gravity of her current need, however, outweighed the fear. She needed the tonic; failing to acquire it could have far more serious consequences than an awkward encounter. With a deep breath, she pushed the door open and stepped inside.

The familiar scent of dried herbs and brewing decoctions greeted her, though the interior had changed subtly over the years. Behind the counter stood a young man, tall and lean, with dark hair neatly tied back. There was something familiar in the set of his jaw and the kindness in his eyes. Hinata’s heart eased slightly. “He must be the herbalist’s son,” she murmured to herself, relief softening her features.

She approached the counter cautiously. “I… I need a tonic,” she said softly, her voice measured. “Something to… prevent conception, up to two weeks after intimacy.”

The young man nodded, understanding immediately. He retrieved a small vial containing a liquid as white as water, odorless and simple in appearance. “This will suffice,” he said quietly. “Take it as directed, and it will work effectively. You’ll be safe.”

Hinata’s fingers closed around the vial, her pulse steadying as the weight of the solution settled into her hands. She gave a small, grateful nod, barely looking at the young man as she turned toward the door.

The streets welcomed her again, quiet and empty in the morning light. She walked swiftly, her steps measured and soft, ensuring she drew no attention. The tonic, safely tucked away, gave her a sense of control and calm — a small reassurance in a delicate, precarious situation.

By the time she returned home, hidden once more beneath her cloak, Hinata felt a subtle sense of accomplishment. One careful step, one measured decision, had preserved the fragile balance she and Sasuke were rebuilding. And though the world outside remained unaware of the quiet drama unfolding, she carried with her the knowledge that, for now, she had taken the necessary precautions to protect both herself and the tentative life she was beginning to reclaim.
---
The polished floors of the palace corridors reflected the morning light in sharp, clean lines, but inside Sasuke’s office, the atmosphere was muted, heavy with quiet tension. The door opened softly, and Mikoto stepped inside, her posture poised as always, yet carrying a weight of concern that softened her usual rigidity.

“Sasuke,” she began, her voice calm but carrying the weight of observation, “we need to speak.”

Sasuke, sitting behind his polished oak desk, looked up briefly. His expression was unreadable, controlled as ever. “About what, Mother?”

Mikoto’s sharp eyes scanned the room, noting the scrolls and documents scattered across the surface. “About you,” she said simply. “About how… undeniably strange you’ve been ever since the festival.” She paused, letting the words settle. “I’ve noticed it for some time, but it’s become impossible to deny. And now, you can’t either.”

Sasuke’s jaw tightened imperceptibly, but he said nothing, offering her the faintest inclination of acknowledgment. Over the years, their relationship had grown distant — his mother’s ways, calculating and sometimes manipulative, had built walls between them. Yet, even with those barriers, she remained the only family he had known, the only blood he could trust entirely… until Aoshi’s existence had shifted the balance of his heart.

“You’ve barely acknowledged how ill Ino has been for the past week,” Mikoto continued, her voice steady but edged with reproach. “I expected more concern from my son.”

Sasuke’s gaze remained fixed on the edge of the desk. He knew her suspicions — her declarations confirmed what he had previously assumed : she has not been informed about the divorce. A part of him felt relief at the delay; he still had time to shape the narrative, to prevent unnecessary conflict.

“I’ve been busy,” he said finally, his voice even but without evasion. “I’ve been training the new recruits from the festival myself. I want to be more involved in the preparation of those who will one day serve under the Royal Guard’s command.”

Mikoto’s brow lifted slightly. “Training them yourself?” she asked, surprise breaking through her composed exterior. “You would take that on personally?”

“Yes,” Sasuke replied simply, meeting her gaze with quiet determination. “If it will make you feel better, I can make time to visit more often.”

The words seemed to strike her. Mikoto froze for a heartbeat, caught off guard by the unexpected acquiescence. Their relationship had grown strained over the years, full of silence, pride, and unspoken grievances. And yet, in that small concession, she saw the familiar thread of the son she had once known — the same man who had always carried a weight she couldn’t fully lift, but whose gestures, however subtle, carried sincerity.

For a moment, her composed demeanor faltered, and genuine warmth softened her features. She allowed herself a small smile. “Very well,” she said softly. “I will take that as a start.”

There was a pause, heavy with unspoken understanding, before she inclined her head slightly. “I will retire for now,” she added, though a subtle, uneasy flicker of doubt lingered in the depths of her eyes. Deep inside, she could feel it — the hesitation that reminded her she did not yet know the full extent of her son’s life beyond the palace walls.

Sasuke remained seated, his expression calm, his mind already calculating the next steps. He had given her enough reassurance to keep her at ease for now, yet the delicate balance of truth, secrecy, and strategy would remain his alone — at least until the time came to reveal everything.

Mikoto finally turned and left, her steps measured but lighter than they had been in days. In the silence that followed, Sasuke exhaled quietly, allowing himself a brief moment to feel the faint relief of having placated her — a small, fleeting victory in a world that demanded constant vigilance.

---

The palace settled into its usual rhythm, but for Sasuke, the days felt different — purposeful, measured, yet infused with a quiet urgency.

He moved through the corridors with precision, attending council meetings, signing trade agreements, and overseeing military drills. His presence was commanding, unflinching — the king ever dutiful. Yet, beneath the mask of authority, his mind wandered to the small sanctuary he had reclaimed in the woods, to the golden meadow, to Hinata and the son they shared.

Every morning, Sasuke ensured Aoshi was in safe hands. Naruto had agreed without question to overseeing his son— training, games, lessons, anything that would keep him from wandering into palace intrigue.

Sasuke trusted Naruto implicitly; he needed that trust more than ever. With the boy cared for, Sasuke could have peace of mind and avoid unwanted attention drawn to him as their physical features were becoming increasingly similar and harder to ignore. It also allowed him to slip quietly into the spaces where Hinata waited, bringing flowers, news from the empire, or simply his presence.
….
Meanwhile, Ino had continue to retreat to her quarters under the pretext of illness. The past few weeks became a space of reflection and quiet rebellion for her. Alone, with the warmth of her guard’s presence, she allowed herself to lament the years she had given to Sasuke and the patient endurance of empty nights.

Shikamaru, loyal and steadfast, listened without judgment. He had been her confidant and comfort, he continued to held the space she had always denied herself.

Shikamaru’s calm acceptance and careful restraint became her refuge, teaching her that desire need not always be public, that intimacy could exist beyond the gaze of the court.
….

Sasuke, in contrast, continued to navigate the world with vigilance and discretion. Each day, he slipped into Hinata’s home when Aoshi was otherwise occupied, leaving flowers, sharing laughs, holding her briefly, and sometimes — when the world allowed — touching her in small, intimate ways that reminded them both of the years they had lost. Their afternoons together were filled with whispered laughter, soft kisses along the cheek, the forehead, the neck — reminders of a love that time had failed to erase.
…
The weeks passed like this — a delicate dance of secrecy, love, and quiet rebellion against the rigid structures of palace life. Sasuke fulfilled his duties as king, but the days were punctuated with stolen moments: walks through the forest with Aoshi and sparring practices, whispered confessions in hidden corners, and afternoons lost in laughter and closeness with Hinata.

And through it all, the world outside moved with indifference, unaware of the careful weaving of past and present, of love reclaimed and slowly nurtured. Within the walls of palace and home alike, the lives of three — Sasuke, Hinata, and Aoshi — began to intertwine once more, quietly, steadily, as they navigated the fragile beginnings of a life they had long been denied.

---

Chapter Text

It had been five weeks since the royal counselor quietly sealed the document that ended Sasuke Uchiha’s marriage to Ino Yamanaka. Five weeks since the last trace of formality had been stripped from a union that had always been hollow.

To the empire, the king and queen were still united — their union unbroken, their thrones shared. To the handful of people who carried the truth, however, the silence weighed like iron.

In those five weeks, Sasuke had found moments of peace he hadn’t known in fifteen years. In Hinata’s quiet laughter, in the simple warmth of her home, in the sound of their son’s footsteps — he felt something that resembled life again. The secrecy of it all was a cruel necessity, yet for once, he didn’t resent it. Happiness, however fragile, was worth the risk.
…
Far from him, the palace continued its rhythm of decorum and ritual. And this morning, under the pale gleam of early light, Queen Mikoto found herself walking the outer gardens that bordered the training grounds.

It was not a place she often visited. The sharp clang of steel, the barked commands, the earthy smell of sweat and dust — it was a soldier’s world, not a queen’s. But lately, her thoughts had been heavy, her sleep restless. Something within her, an instinct honed by years of court and motherhood alike, had led her steps there.

At her side moved Orochimaru — the ever-watchful, ever-calm advisor who had served her since her youth. His presence was like the whisper of a knife: comforting and unsettling at once.

“You seem troubled, Your Grace,” he said softly as they passed a line of young recruits sparring in the sun.

“I’ve been… thinking,” Mikoto replied, her voice quiet, thoughtful. “Of my son. Of how distant he’s become.”

Her eyes wandered to the soldiers, but her mind was elsewhere — years behind. “There was a time when he was different. Before that night — before the attack that took everything.”

Orochimaru inclined his head slightly. “You speak of the Hyūga girl.”

“Yes,” Mikoto murmured. Her voice held no bitterness, only a tired kind of acceptance. “She was just a servant, and yet… she left a wound that never healed. When he told me about their relationship, I was shocked, yes, but more than that, I pitied him. Because I knew that kind of attachment only ends in pain.”

For a moment, she fell silent, remembering. The weight of the crown. The cost of reputation. The decision she had supported all those years ago — his marriage to Ino — because it had been politically right, even if it condemned her son to emotional exile.

She drew a slow breath. “When he told me he would marry Ino for alliance, he warned me not to expect grandchildren. I told myself it was duty, not punishment. But I had hoped…” Her voice softened. “I had hoped that with time, affection might follow.”

“Hope,” Orochimaru said mildly, “is a dangerous indulgence for rulers.”

Her lips curved faintly, humorless. “Perhaps. And yet, I am his mother first.”

They continued walking, the sound of their footsteps mingling with the distant hum of practice.

Mikoto’s expression grew distant. “He’s been different lately. Since that swordsmen’s festival six months ago — more evasive, more careful with his words. I can feel it, Orochimaru. Something’s changed.”

Orochimaru gave a small, knowing hum. “And the queen?”

“Ino has been sick these past weeks. Confined herself to her rooms. She’s better now, but… something in her demeanor is off. Too controlled. Too quiet.” Mikoto’s gaze hardened. “They think I do not see, but I do.”

He smiled faintly. “Then you suspect they are keeping something from you.”

“I don’t suspect,” Mikoto said slowly. “I know. I simply don’t know what it is.”

The words hung in the air like a thread pulled too tight.

They reached the far side of the training grounds — the open stretch that met the edge of the gardens. A breeze stirred, carrying with it the faint scent of pine and sweat. Mikoto’s eyes, scanning absently across the field, caught movement.

A figure.

A boy — tall, lean, with dark hair that gleamed like ink beneath the light. He couldn’t have been older than sixteen. His posture, the sharp line of his jaw, even the calm intensity in his eyes — for one brief, impossible moment, it was as though she were staring at Sasuke as he had been in his youth.

Her breath faltered.

Then, as quickly as she turned to ask Orochimaru, he was gone.

“Did you see that?” she asked sharply, looking at Orochimaru. “There was someone there — a boy.”

Orochimaru followed her gaze, his eyes unhurried. “No one, Your Grace. Perhaps a servant, or a trick of the light.”

But Mikoto’s gaze lingered on the empty space between the guard tents, her heartbeat unsteady. The resemblance had been too precise — too haunting.

“Perhaps…” she whispered, but her tone lacked conviction.

Orochimaru’s voice came soft and deliberate. “The sun can be deceiving when one is troubled. You’ve been carrying too much concern for His Majesty. Perhaps it’s time to rest.”

She nodded faintly, though her eyes remained on the garden. “Yes… perhaps.”

As they turned to return toward the palace, her thoughts refused to still.

That boy — that face — it could not have been coincidence.

And though she told herself she was imagining things, a mother’s instinct whispered otherwise.

Something was being hidden from her.
And whatever it was, she knew it began — and ended — with her son.

---

Life in the palace had changed Aoshi in ways he hadn’t expected. Training under the direct guidance of King Sasuke was an honor beyond measure, but it also came with pressure few his age could understand. Still, Aoshi was not naïve. Though young, he was acutely aware of the blood that ran in his veins—Hyuga blood. He knew enough of history to understand that, even if time had softened the kingdom’s stance toward the Hyuga, old wounds never truly healed.

That was why, since joining the royal swordsmanship corps training, Aoshi had chosen to go simply by his name. “Aoshi” was enough. People knew he wasn’t of noble lineage, but his skill and quick mind earned him respect nonetheless. Word spread fast—of the boy with no title who fought with the precision of a prodigy. No one was surprised that the king himself had taken him under his wing.

Still, Aoshi rarely spoke of his past. Not out of shame, but out of protection. His mother had followed him into this new life at the palace’s edge, leaving behind the quiet safety of the cabin they’d once shared with Grandma Tsunade. Though treated kindly by both the king and Naruto, Aoshi knew that his mother had sacrificed the peace she’d built for his sake. So when people asked, he simply said that his mother was an herbalist—a healer from the countryside. Nothing more.

That afternoon, training ended earlier than usual. Naruto had left Aoshi and his two companions, Riku and Hane, to finish drills on their own. Both boys came from respected families and had entered the program through privilege as much as talent. Yet even they admitted that Aoshi’s raw skill was different—sharper, faster, almost instinctual.

As they packed away their swords, a tall figure entered the tent. The man’s pale eyes gave away his heritage instantly—Hyuga. His presence commanded silence. Aoshi could tell from the way he carried himself that he’d seen battle, perhaps too much of it. He introduced himself as Ren, a veteran swordsman who had once served under Sasuke back when he was still crown prince.

Ren rarely trained beginners, which made his arrival all the more unusual. Their instructor had been called away on a sudden mission, and Ren had been assigned to oversee the session. When his gaze fell on Aoshi, however, he froze. For an instant, he thought he was seeing a ghost—the boy’s resemblance to the young Sasuke was uncanny.

He hid his reaction behind a calm smile and continued with his introduction. After some light conversation, he asked each trainee to speak briefly about themselves. When it came to Aoshi’s turn, he simply said that his name was Aoshi, and that after a sparring match with the king during the last festival, he’d been accepted as Sasuke’s personal student—despite having no noble blood.

That admission made Ren pause. The resemblance, the tutelage, the air of quiet confidence—it was too much to ignore. But years of discipline under Sasuke had taught him restraint. He said nothing more and led them to the open field for sparring assessments.

When it came time to face Aoshi, Ren felt it again—that same spark he’d once seen in the prince’s eyes. The boy’s fighting style, the way he smirked when he landed a hit, the silent intensity—it was like watching history repeat itself.

After the session, Ren dismissed Riku and Hane and asked Aoshi to stay behind. They sat together under the shade of a tree, the veteran curious.
“Who taught you to wield a sword like that?” Ren asked.

“My ma,” Aoshi replied without hesitation, pride softening his voice. “She taught me everything I know. We didn’t have much, but she made sure I learned.”

That caught Ren’s attention. “Your mother must be remarkable,” he said.
“She is,” Aoshi answered simply. “She’s the reason I’m here.”

Ren sensed the protectiveness in his tone and didn’t press further. After a pause, Aoshi went on, almost as if thinking aloud. “We lived in a cabin, far from here. It was just me, Ma, and Grandma. I never knew my father—but it didn’t matter. We were happy.”

Ren studied the boy quietly, his thoughts turning inward. He finally spoke. “You remind me of someone—the king, when he was your age. The resemblance is uncanny.”

Aoshi chuckled softly. “I’ve heard that before.”

Ren smiled faintly. “Not just your face. Your swordsmanship too. The same precision, the same spark.”

Aoshi couldn’t help but feel proud. Over the months, he’d grown close to Sasuke and Naruto—especially Sasuke, whom he teasingly called old man in private. The thought made him grin.

After a moment, Aoshi asked, “You’re a Hyuga, right? I haven’t seen any others in the palace.”

Ren nodded. “There aren’t many. The royal crown and the Hyuga clan have… a complicated past. But when I joined, Sasuke saw talent, not blood. That’s what allowed me to stay.” He hesitated, then added quietly, “When I first came here, there was another Hyuga in the palace. Her name was Hinata.”

Aoshi’s attention sharpened.

“She was bright, strong, and kind,” Ren continued. “She served the royal family closely—especially the crown prince. Few knew her well, but those who did respected her deeply. She died years ago during a rebel attack, defending a kingdom that never truly accepted her.”

Aoshi fell silent, absorbing every word. Neither Sasuke nor Naruto had ever mentioned a Hyuga woman before.

Ren didn’t mention the rest—the love between Sasuke and Hinata that had once defied their world. That secret wasn’t his to tell.

He rose and placed a hand on Aoshi’s shoulder. “You’re talented, Aoshi. Make your mother proud.”

Aoshi bowed, still lost in thought as he headed home.

---

Later That Afternoon

A few moments before Aoshi arrived, the small home tucked between the castle walls and the forest was quiet. Hinata sat near the window, lost in thought, when the door creaked open.

“Sasuke?” she whispered in surprise as the king himself slipped inside.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she said, half-scolding, half-laughing. “Someone might see you.”

Sasuke’s lips curved into a faint smirk. “I’m the king,” he murmured, stepping closer. “That comes with certain privileges. Like deciding where I can or can’t be.”

Before she could respond, he wrapped an arm around her waist. Hinata gasped softly, trying to push him away in playful protest. “Stop it, Sasuke,” she said, though her smile betrayed her. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love that about me,” he teased, leaning closer.

That was when the door swung open.

Aoshi stood frozen at the threshold, eyes wide with horror. To him, it looked like the king was forcing himself on his mother.

“Let her go!” he shouted.

Sasuke and Hinata froze—caught between shock and the heavy realization that there was no going back now.

Chapter Text

Panic. Fear. Helplessness.
Those were the only things Hinata could feel when she saw her son standing frozen in the doorway, eyes wide with horror.

For a split second, the room was still — then everything shattered.

“Aoshi—” she tried to speak, but before she could even form a thought, her son lunged forward, fury taking over every movement. He shoved Sasuke away from her, his voice shaking with anger.

“Don’t touch her!” he shouted, chest heaving. “How dare you—how dare you touch my mother like that!”

Sasuke stumbled back but didn’t retaliate. He understood, more than anyone, what Aoshi must have seen — and what he must be feeling. The boy’s anger, his confusion… it was justified.

Aoshi turned on Sasuke, his voice breaking. “I thought you were different! I looked up to you! And now I find you here—trying to force yourself on my mother?”

Hinata’s throat burned. Her heart was pounding so hard it hurt. “Aoshi, please, listen to me!” she begged, tears already gathering in her eyes. “It’s not what you think. He didn’t—he didn’t do anything wrong. I allowed him to.”

The words fell heavy between them.

Aoshi froze, blinking in disbelief. For a moment, he couldn’t even breathe. His mother’s voice trembled, but her words were clear, and they struck him like a blade.

“You what?” he whispered, stepping back. His face twisted — confusion turning to shock, then disgust. “You let him? You—Mother, he’s married! He’s the king! What are you doing?”

Sasuke’s jaw clenched. That was enough.

“Watch your tone,” he warned quietly, stepping between them. “You will not speak to your mother that way.”

Aoshi’s fury flared again. “Don’t call her that! You don’t get to—” He swung at Sasuke, pure emotion driving him forward, but Sasuke caught his wrist effortlessly and pushed him back just enough to stop him without hurting him.

“Stop!” Hinata cried, her voice cracking. “Please, both of you, stop!”

Her desperation filled the room, but neither moved. Aoshi’s breathing was ragged, Sasuke’s expression unreadable. Hinata’s hands shook. She realized that if she didn’t say it now—if she didn’t stop this—she might lose her son forever.

“Aoshi,” she whispered, voice trembling, “please… stop. He’s not your enemy.”

“Then who is, Mother?” Aoshi snapped, eyes glistening. “Because right now it feels like you both are!”

Hinata’s heart broke. She took a step toward him, tears blurring her vision. And then, unable to bear it any longer, she screamed the truth that had lived like poison in her chest for fifteen long years.

“Because he’s your father!”

The words echoed through the small house, loud enough to still the wind outside.

Aoshi went still. Completely still.
He turned slowly toward her, as if he hadn’t heard right. “What… what did you say?”

Tears streamed down Hinata’s face. “Sasuke,” she whispered, her voice barely holding, “is your father.”

Silence fell again—cold, sharp, unbearable.

Sasuke said nothing. His eyes were fixed on his son, the same eyes reflected back at him with disbelief and pain.

Aoshi stepped back, shaking his head. “No… no, that’s not true. You—my name, my life—you said we had no family. You lied to me?”

Hinata tried to reach for him, but he recoiled as if her touch would burn him.

“I never wanted to hurt you,” she pleaded. “I only wanted to protect you.”

“Protect me?” Aoshi’s voice cracked. “From what, the truth? That my father was the king? That I was some mistake you hid away in the woods?”

Hinata gasped, horror flooding her chest. “Don’t say that. You were never—”

“Then why?” he demanded. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why did you let me grow up thinking I wasn’t worth knowing my own father?” His voice rose, trembling with grief. “Did you think I was something to be ashamed of?”

Hinata’s knees gave out, and she sank to the floor. “Aoshi, please—listen to me.”

Sasuke remained silent, torn between guilt and restraint. He knew he had no right to step in, not yet. Not after the years he’d lost.

Hinata forced herself to speak through her sobs. “My real name isn’t Hoshi… but Hinata.

A moment of realisation hit Aoshi, as his mind drifted back to the conversation with Ren earlier during practice.

“When I met your father, he was still the crown prince. I was… a servant in the palace. A Hyuga. We loved each other, but we had to keep it secret. Then one night, the palace was attacked. I was wounded and fell into the river. Everyone thought I was dead.”

Her voice faltered, but she continued. “When I woke, Tsunade had found me. I didn’t even know I was pregnant until months later. I wanted to tell him—I wanted to go back—but when I returned, he had already married Princess Ino. I couldn’t bear it… so I left. I raised you the only way I could. I gave you a peaceful life.”

The room went quiet except for Hinata’s sobs.

Aoshi stood still for a long time, his face hidden in shadow. When he finally spoke, his voice was flat, distant. “You still should’ve told me.”

“I know,” she whispered. “I know I should have.”

He looked up at her then — not as a child, not as her son, but as someone broken by betrayal. “You were selfish, Mother. All those years, I thought maybe my father left because of me. I thought maybe I wasn’t enough. But it wasn’t him—it was you ”

Hinata’s breath hitched. The pain in his eyes was unbearable.

“I don’t want to see you right now,” Aoshi said quietly, tears gathering but refusing to fall. “Not you… not Hinata.”

The use of her real name cut deeper than any blade.

He turned and walked out, slamming the door behind him.

Hinata collapsed to her knees, a raw cry tearing from her chest. “Aoshi! Please—come back! I’m sorry! Please!”

She sobbed until she couldn’t breathe, until her body began to shake uncontrollably. Sasuke was already by her side, catching her before she hit the floor.

“Hinata, breathe,” he said urgently, holding her trembling form. But her breathing came fast, uneven — panic clawing at her lungs until she could no longer speak.

At that moment, the door burst open. Naruto stood there, confusion etched across his face as he took in the scene — Hinata in Sasuke’s arms, the shattered quiet, the open door where Aoshi had fled.

“W-what happened?” he asked, eyes wide.

Sasuke didn’t look up. His voice was sharp, commanding — the voice of a king.
“Go,” he ordered. “Fetch Shiro. Now.”

Naruto froze. “Sasuke—”

“Now, Naruto!”

The urgency in Sasuke’s tone left no room for questions. Though he hesitated for just a heartbeat — knowing what calling Shiro meant, knowing that the secret they’d kept for months was about to unravel — he obeyed.

He turned and ran into the fading light, heart pounding with dread.

Inside the small home, Sasuke held Hinata close, whispering her name over and over as she slipped into unconsciousness.

And outside, somewhere in the woods, Aoshi walked alone deep into the woods — the truth of his blood burning like fire through his veins.

---
Naruto ran through the corridors of the palace, his breath sharp and uneven. Sasuke’s command echoed in his mind—“Fetch Shiro. Now.”
There was no time to waste.

He found the old herbalist in his small quarters near the back gardens, where the scent of dried herbs still clung to the air. Shiro was nearly retired now, his hands wrinkled but steady, his eyes sharp despite the years.

“Naruto?” Shiro asked, surprised to see him so suddenly. “What brings you here at this hour?”

“The King needs you,” Naruto said, barely catching his breath. “Immediately.”

That was all it took. The old man’s expression changed in an instant—confusion, concern, and something deeper flickered across his face. Though he hadn’t been called to the king’s service in years, there was never a question of if he would go. For his little Sasuke—the boy he had once treated after every reckless sword duel—he would always come.

He gathered his tools quickly, the familiar rhythm of old duty guiding his hands: herbs for calming the nerves, tinctures for fainting, a small pouch of dried leaves for poultices. No words were exchanged as they stepped into the night.

The walk to the edge of the palace grounds was silent, the only sounds the crunch of leaves beneath their feet and the whisper of wind through the trees. Shiro was curious—Naruto’s face was tight with worry, his steps faster than usual—but he knew better than to ask. Whatever had happened, it wasn’t time for questions.

He could feel it in the air. Something heavy. Something that would change everything.

---

Meanwhile, deep within the forest, Aoshi stumbled through branches and brambles, his vision blurred with tears. Every step felt heavier than the last. His chest ached, his throat burned, and the world around him seemed to spin.

He finally stopped near an old tree trunk, the bark cracked and rough like the ache inside him. Dropping to his knees, he pressed his fists into the ground and screamed—a raw, wordless sound that tore through the silence. Then he began to punch the trunk, again and again, until his knuckles ached and the anger drained into sobs.

He had no words for the storm inside him—betrayal, confusion, grief, and a love that now felt poisoned. All he knew was that everything he thought he understood about himself had been a lie.

---

Back at the house, Sasuke had carried Hinata to her room, his heart pounding with dread. He laid her gently on the bed, brushing the hair from her pale face. Her breathing was shallow but steady, her hands cold in his.

When Naruto and Shiro arrived, the old man’s eyes fell on her—and for a moment, time stopped.
Hinata.

The little girl who had once followed him around the herbal gardens, eager to learn, always smiling. The one he had mourned years ago when word spread of her death. And now—she was here. Alive.

A thousand questions surged through his mind, but he knew better than to speak them. Whatever had happened tonight, it wasn’t time for answers.

He turned to Sasuke and Naruto. “Tell me what happened.”

Sasuke met his gaze briefly, his voice low and heavy. “She fainted. Emotional shock.” That was all he said, and it was enough.

Without another word, Shiro moved closer, his old hands already working from memory. He checked her pulse, her breathing, her pupils. He crushed herbs in his small bowl, mixed them with warm water, and pressed the mixture to her lips. The room filled with the scent of chamomile and dried lavender—an old remedy for calming a stormed heart.

Sasuke and Naruto stepped out, leaving Shiro to his work.

In the quiet of the small living room, neither spoke for a while. The fire flickered weakly between them. Sasuke stared at the floor, his hand pressed to his temple.

Finally, he spoke. “I wish… I wish he had known.”

Naruto turned to him, frowning. “You mean Aoshi?”

Sasuke nodded. His voice was hollow. “He was supposed to learn the truth someday—but not like this. Not through pain. Not through anger.”

Naruto listened in silence.

Sasuke continued, his tone breaking for the first time. “He’s my son, Naruto. For fifteen years, I thought Hinata was gone . And now, I have her and him here—only to see him look at me like I’m his enemy.”

Naruto’s expression softened. “He’s confused. Hurt. You both are.”

“I know,” Sasuke whispered. “That’s why I need you to find him.”

Naruto blinked. “Me?”

“Please.” Sasuke’s voice steadied, though his eyes remained distant. “He’s out there, alone, and he’s not thinking clearly. You know him. You’ve seen his temper, his strength. He’s my son. Which means… he’s capable of doing something reckless.”

Naruto understood then. Sasuke wasn’t speaking as a king now, or even as a friend. He was speaking as a father terrified of losing his son.

“I’ll find him,” Naruto said quietly. “I promise.”

Sasuke nodded once, gratitude flickering in his eyes.

Naruto rose and left the house, the forest swallowing him whole. His instincts told him where to go—where the boy would be. He followed the faintest trace of footsteps, the broken branches, the sound of distant sobs carried by the wind.

---

The room was dim, lit by a single lantern whose flame swayed faintly with the wind seeping through the cracked window. The scent of herbs lingered in the air — bitter, grounding, old.

Hinata lay motionless on the bed, her breathing shallow but steady. Sasuke sat nearby, silent, the shadows under his eyes deeper than ever.

Shiro was finishing his work, carefully packing his instruments back into the worn leather satchel that had followed him for decades. He’d seen kings rise and fall, empires crumble and rebuild, but nothing — not even all his years in the palace — could have prepared him for the sight before him.

After a long silence, the old herbalist spoke.

“I never thought I would see her again,” he said quietly.

She Sasuke didn’t lift his gaze from Hinata. “Neither did I.”

Shiro exhaled slowly. “She’s resting now. The fainting came from exhaustion — and a great deal of emotional strain. Her pulse is weak, but her heart…” He paused, eyes narrowing slightly as he remembered what he’d found. “Her heart tells me she’s with child.”

The words struck hard. Sasuke blinked once, disbelief and emotion colliding in his expression. “Are you sure?”

“I’ve lived too long to mistake the signs,” Shiro replied softly. “Five, perhaps six weeks along. She hasn’t been taking care of herself — her body shows fatigue and hunger. Likely, she didn’t even know.”

Sasuke leaned back, a hand over his face. “I thought she’d… taken measures. Considering how fragile things are, a child now wasn’t what we—” He stopped mid-sentence, shaking his head. “No. It doesn’t matter. What’s done is done.”

“She’ll need rest, nourishment, quiet,” Shiro said, his tone measured but warm. “I’ll prepare a regimen — herbs, meals, and a schedule of rest. She and the baby will recover, if she listens.”

Sasuke looked up. “Thank you, Shiro.”

“You never need thank me,” the old man murmured. “For her, and for you, I would always come.”

The air grew still again. Sasuke’s jaw flexed once before he spoke. “There’s something else you should know.”

Shiro turned his attention fully to him now, sensing the weight in Sasuke’s tone.

“We already have a child,” Sasuke said quietly. “A son. He just turned fifteen.”

The words landed heavy, but Shiro didn’t interrupt — only listened, his sharp old eyes softening as Sasuke continued.

“He was raised far from here, in a small cabin on the outskirts of the empire. Naruto met him first — at the swordsmen’s festival. He said that a boy he met reminded him of me — the way he moved, the way he fought…” A faint, wistful smile touched Sasuke’s lips. “When I saw him myself, it felt like looking at my younger self.”

“I challenged him to a spar — told him that if I won and he proved his worth, I’d take him as my student, regardless of his bloodline. But if I lost, he could ask me for anything he wanted. He was cocky, bold, and arrogant — every movement of his mirrored mine. Lost in my own thoughts, I couldn’t even finish the match. I walked away.

“Later, I made up my mind to take him with me after all. He led me back to the cabin where he lived… and that’s when I confirmed my suspicions, I saw Hinata.”

Shiro’s eyes flicked toward Hinata again, then back to Sasuke. “So he is yours. And hers.”

“Yes.” Sasuke’s voice was a low murmur. “I found them both that day. I thought she was dead — we all did. But she’d survived. She was alive, hiding all this time.”

The old herbalist nodded slowly, absorbing the story. His expression was a blend of wonder and grief. “The gods truly have a cruel sense of timing.”

Sasuke’s smile was hollow. “They do.”

He drew in a slow, steady breath before going on.

“She’d been badly hurt and spent months in a coma — pregnant with our child. A woman found her by the riverbank, and thanks to her healing skills, she managed to keep both Hinata and the baby alive. When Hinata recovered and gave birth, she came back to find me. But the day she returned… was the same day I married Ino. So, she left.”

“When I finally persuaded them to return to the palace, we decided not to tell Aoshi the truth — not yet. She wasn’t ready, and I… I thought I could shield him from the turmoil until she was.”

Sasuke’s voice faltered slightly. “But today, everything unraveled. He came home early and saw us together. Misunderstood. Thought I was forcing myself on her.”

Shiro frowned deeply, but said nothing — letting Sasuke’s confession spill freely.

“She tried to calm him. But when he wouldn’t stop, she told him the truth — that I was his father.” Sasuke rubbed his temples, his voice dropping to a whisper. “He didn’t take it well. Said things no child should ever say to their mother. Then he left.”

The silence that followed was long and suffocating. Shiro let it sit for a while before he spoke, his voice gentle but searching.

“And what of your queen?”

Sasuke turned to him, brow furrowing slightly. “What do you mean?”

Shiro hesitated, then continued carefully. “Ino. What will this mean for her — and for the kingdom? The court may not take kindly to whispers like these, Sasuke.”

A pause. Then Sasuke looked away, his eyes cold but weary. “There’s nothing to whisper about anymore.”

Shiro blinked. “Meaning?”

Sasuke exhaled, his voice calm but steady, resolute. “Ino and I divorced six weeks ago. Officially. The papers were signed, sealed, and witnessed by the official royal councillor. Only a handful of people know — not even my mother is aware.”

Shiro’s eyes widened faintly, though he kept his tone neutral. “I see…”

“When Hinata and I started to… intimate again, I was already a free man,” Sasuke said, his voice gaining quiet strength. “I didn’t want another lie between us. I’d been living in one for too long.”

Shiro nodded slowly, processing it all. “And now, you tell me the boy knows the truth, Hinata carries another child, and the kingdom doesn’t yet know any of it.”

Sasuke let out a breath — long, burdened. “Yes.”

The old herbalist stood in silence for a long while. Then, finally, he stepped closer, placing a weathered hand on Sasuke’s shoulder. His voice was low, but full of the quiet authority that came with age.

“Then start with what you can still save. Tell the truth to those who deserve it. Protect the ones who cannot protect themselves. The kingdom can wait — but your family cannot.”

Sasuke’s eyes fell once more to Hinata’s sleeping form, his heart tight in his chest. “You’re right,” he whispered. “You always are.”

Shiro gave a small, bittersweet smile. “I’ve lived long enough to know that even kings bleed the same as the rest of us.”

The lantern flickered again, shadows dancing softly over the room — two men standing in the quiet aftermath of fifteen years of silence finally broken.

---

The forest was silent, except for the rhythmic crunch of leaves beneath Naruto’s boots and the whisper of wind weaving through the branches. The moon hung low and pale, casting thin silver light across the path.

He didn’t call Aoshi’s name—he didn’t need to. He could feel where the boy had gone. There was something instinctual in it, a pull guided not by reason but by care.

After what felt like an eternity of walking, Naruto caught sight of movement ahead. Near a fallen tree trunk, hunched over and trembling, was Aoshi.

The boy’s knuckles were bloodied, his shoulders shaking as he tried to stifle the sobs that kept breaking free. His sword lay discarded beside him, half-buried in dirt.

Naruto stopped a few paces away, giving him space. He spoke softly. “You’re going to hurt your hand worse if you keep hitting that tree.”

Aoshi didn’t turn. “Go away,” he muttered, his voice hoarse. “I don’t want to talk.”

Naruto sighed quietly, stepping closer until the moonlight touched them both. “That’s fine. We don’t have to talk. I’ll just sit.”

He lowered himself onto the ground beside the boy, crossing his legs and leaning back against the trunk. The silence stretched between them—gentle, not heavy. Aoshi’s breaths came in broken gasps at first, then steadied, though the tears didn’t stop.

After a long pause, Naruto spoke again, barely above a whisper.
“It’s okay to be angry, you know.”

Aoshi’s voice cracked. “I’m not angry,” he said, though the tremor in his tone betrayed him. “I’m… I don’t even know what I am.” He rubbed at his face with shaking hands. “All these years—she lied to me. I thought… I thought we were just some family no one cared about. And now—now I’m supposed to believe that the king is my father?”

His words fell apart at the end, swallowed by tears.

Naruto didn’t interrupt. He waited, patient as the trees.

Aoshi went on, his voice smaller now. “I looked up to him. I wanted to be like him. And now, when I see him, I don’t even know who he is anymore. Or who I am.”

Naruto finally turned to look at him, his expression soft. “You’re still you, kid. That hasn’t changed.”

Aoshi shook his head. “But it has. Everything’s different now. My whole life’s been a lie. My mom—” He stopped, his throat tightening. “She said she wanted to protect me. But from what? From him? From me knowing who I really am?”

He clenched his fists, then let them fall limp against his knees. “I just… I don’t understand any of it.”

Naruto drew in a deep breath, the night air cool against his skin. “When I was your age,” he began quietly, “I didn’t know who my parents were either. And when I finally found out, it didn’t make everything easier. It just made it… real. And real things hurt.”

Aoshi turned slightly, his tear-streaked face catching the moonlight. “So what did you do?”

Naruto smiled faintly, sadness in the corners of his eyes. “I got mad. I broke things. I blamed people who didn’t deserve it. But then I realized that knowing where you come from doesn’t have to change where you’re going.”

The boy looked down, his voice almost gone. “It feels like it changes everything.”

“It doesn’t have to,” Naruto said gently. “You don’t have to forgive them tonight. You don’t even have to see them. You just need to breathe. One night at a time.”

Aoshi hesitated, then leaned forward, his head dropping into his hands. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t even want to go home.”

Naruto’s chest ached at the sound of his voice. He reached out and placed a steady hand on the boy’s back. “Then don’t. Not yet.”

Aoshi looked up, startled.

Naruto smiled softly. “You can stay with me. My dorm’s quiet. You’ll have space to think… to feel. No one will bother you.”

For a moment, Aoshi just stared, as if afraid to hope. “You mean that?”

“I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t.”

Aoshi exhaled shakily, the weight on his shoulders seeming to ease just a little. “I… I’d like that. I don’t think I’m ready to face them. Not yet.”

Naruto nodded. “Then you won’t. You’ll stay with me until you are.”

Aoshi didn’t speak again. He just leaned slightly into Naruto’s side, seeking warmth, seeking something solid to hold onto in the storm that had torn his world apart.

Naruto didn’t move. He simply stayed there with him, one hand on the boy’s shoulder, listening to the faint sound of his uneven breathing.

The forest around them was quiet, but for the first time that night, the silence didn’t feel empty.

---

Chapter Text

Hinata’s eyelids fluttered weakly, her breath coming out in shallow, uneven waves.
The room smelled faintly of herbs and warm linen. For a moment, she didn’t know where she was — only the dizzying ache in her head and the heaviness in her limbs reminded her that something terrible had happened.

Then, as her vision cleared, memory struck like lightning.
Aoshi’s voice — broken, furious.
His eyes, filled with pain she had never seen in him before.
And her own voice, trembling as she screamed the truth she’d hidden for fifteen long years.

Her body shot up from the mattress before her mind could catch up. “Aoshi!” she cried out, her voice hoarse, desperate.

From the living room, both Sasuke and Shiro froze at the sound. Without hesitation, they rushed to her room.

By the time they reached the door, Hinata was sitting upright, trembling, tears streaming down her cheeks as she struggled to stand. “Where is he? Where is my son? I need to see him!”

“Hinata—” Sasuke started, but she barely heard him. She swung her legs over the bed, tried to push herself up — but her balance betrayed her, the world tilting dangerously. Sasuke lunged forward just in time, catching her in his arms before she fell.

“Easy,” he murmured, holding her close. “You’re still weak.”

“I don’t care!” she cried, pounding softly against his chest, her voice breaking. “He’s out there, alone—he must be terrified, Sasuke! He thinks I—he thinks—”

Her voice dissolved into sobs. She clutched at Sasuke’s shirt like a lifeline.
Across the room, Shiro stood quietly near the door, his weathered face lined with both worry and patience. When Hinata’s tearful eyes met his, he didn’t speak — he only gave her a small, gentle smile.

That smile said everything she needed in that moment: It’s going to be all right.

She exhaled shakily, trying to steady herself. “Please,” she whispered, turning back to Sasuke. “Tell me where he is. I have to go to him—I have to make this right.”

Sasuke’s hand came to rest softly on her shoulder. “He’s safe,” he said quietly. “I sent Naruto and I am sure he found him. He’s safe.”

But the reassurance didn’t reach her. Her hands were trembling, her mind spiraling. “He must hate me,” she whispered through tears. “He must think I’m the worst mother. I should have told him. I should have—”

“Hinata,” Sasuke interrupted gently, his voice steady but firm. “You need to calm down.”

She looked up, confused, startled by the shift in his tone. “Calm down? Sasuke, my son is out there thinking I—”

“This isn’t just about you and Aoshi anymore,” Sasuke said, his voice low, controlled.

That silenced her for a moment. Her eyes widened, struggling to understand what he meant. “What… what do you mean?”

Sasuke hesitated, stepping closer. His hands found her arms, holding her lightly, grounding her as her breathing grew ragged again.

“Please,” she whispered. “Tell me.”

Then, slowly, Sasuke leaned in until their foreheads touched — their breaths mingling, their heartbeats colliding in the quiet space between them.

“You’re pregnant,” he said softly.

Everything stopped.

Hinata froze — every muscle, every thought. Her breath caught in her throat, her eyes widening in disbelief. “W-what…?”

“When Shiro examined you,” Sasuke continued carefully, “he found out. You’re about five weeks along.”

She shook her head immediately, stepping back. “No—no, that can’t be. I’ve been careful. I’ve—”

Her words faltered, memories flooding in.
That morning at the herbalist’s shop.
The bitter taste of the tonic.
The old instructions she had followed to the letter — “take it within two weeks”.

Her knees weakened, and her gaze darted toward Shiro, standing silently by the doorway. Her voice trembled. “Shiro, that’s not possible. I—I took the tonic. I followed everything exactly. It can’t be…”

The old herbalist’s expression softened, his voice calm and fatherly. “Hinata, even the most careful hands cannot control everything. There are always margins of failure. Nature has its own will.”

Hinata’s eyes brimmed with tears again. She shook her head, overwhelmed. “It’s not fair… I tried to do everything right…”

“I know,” Shiro said quietly. “But what’s done is done, my dear. You must think of your health now — and of the life you carry.”

Sasuke stepped closer once more, cupping her face in his hands. “You have every right to feel scared,” he said softly. “I know you didn’t expect this. But you’re not alone in it. Not anymore.”

Her lips trembled. “I can’t—”

“You can,” he whispered, his forehead resting against hers again. “You’ve done harder things before.”

For a moment, the room was still. Only the faint sound of the wind brushing against the shutters filled the silence.

Then Shiro’s voice, gentle but firm, broke through. “You must rest. Your body is still weak, and your emotions will only drain you further. Aoshi is safe, Sasuke has made sure of it. The time to mend that wound will come — but not tonight.”

Hinata exhaled shakily, her eyes fluttering shut. She nodded faintly, though tears continued to slip down her cheeks.

Sasuke held her close until her trembling slowed, his voice barely above a whisper. “We’ll sort this out , Hinata. I promise. But right now, you need to protect both of you.”

As Shiro quietly dimmed the lantern, Hinata’s sobs softened into silence.
Sasuke guided her gently back to the bed, his hand still entwined with hers.

And for the first time that night, though her heart still ached, she let herself believe him — just a little.

---

The palace was unusually still that night. Even the moonlight seemed to move carefully, slipping through the embroidered drapes of Queen Mikoto’s chambers as though afraid to disturb her solitude.

She had been preparing to sleep, yet sleep felt impossible.
Her fingers paused halfway through unpinning her hair. The same image haunted her again — that young man she had seen earlier that day. The sharp line of his jaw, the way his eyes carried both confidence and gentleness — it was him, or rather, it was Sasuke as she remembered him in his youth.

But that couldn’t be.
She had dismissed the thought then. Yet the memory refused to fade, returning again and again like a whisper her mind could not silence.

Mikoto sighed softly and rose, the silk of her night robes trailing like water behind her as she crossed to the far corner of the room. There stood a small shrine — a modest yet deeply sacred space, carved from blackened cedar and adorned with a single candle. It was dedicated to her late husband, Fugaku Uchiha.

She knelt before it, lighting the candle with steady hands though her heart trembled. The flame flickered to life, painting her face in soft, uncertain gold.

“My love,” she whispered, bowing her head. “If ever your spirit still lingers near me, I ask for strength.”

The silence that followed was almost reverent.

Her voice quivered slightly as she went on, “I did what I thought was right. For the family. For the crown. But perhaps in saving our legacy, I lost something greater.”

Her mind drifted back to Sasuke — the boy who once adored her, who sought her approval in everything. She could still recall the way his eyes had dimmed the day she chose duty over his heart. How many nights had she told herself that it was for his good? That she was protecting him from scandal, from instability?

And yet… what had it truly cost?

Her hands tightened on her lap. “I only wanted him to live without burden,” she whispered. “But I became one myself.”

She thought of Hinata Hyuga — once a quiet girl serving in the palace gardens. There had been something about her, something that made even the sternest guards speak gently in her presence, regardless of how much she had always tried to deny it . Mikoto had dismissed her back then, seeing her as a distraction to a young heir’s focus. And yet now, all these years later, her presence — or her absence— had somehow shaped everything.

“How strange,” Mikoto murmured, a bitter smile touching her lips. “That a girl I once thought insignificant would one day hold such weight in our lives.”

Her gaze lifted toward the candle’s flame, eyes glassy with the reflection of old memories.

The candle trembled as if answering her, its small flame bowing to her grief.

---

In another wing of the vast palace, the air was warmer — perfumed with soft incense and candle smoke.
Ino lay awake in the arms of her lover, her head resting against Shikamaru’s chest. His breathing was slow, calm — the rhythm of a man who had long accepted the weight of his choices.

She, however, could not stop thinking.

The past six weeks had been both cruel and liberating.
For the first time in years, she no longer had to pretend. No more royal dinners where she played the dutiful wife to a man who could never love her. No more quiet, aching nights wondering what she had done wrong.

Sasuke had told her the truth long ago — that their marriage was one of duty, not love. And yet, she had refused to believe him.

“People change,” she had told herself. “He will, too.”

But he hadn’t.
And she had been the one who broke instead.

Her fingers traced absent patterns on Shikamaru’s skin, her voice barely above a whisper. “I used to think I could make him love me,” she said, more to herself than to him.

Shikamaru opened his eyes, turning his head slightly to look at her. He didn’t interrupt. He never did. That was what she loved — and sometimes hated — about him.

“I thought,” she continued, “if I played my part perfectly… if I pleased his mother, served the crown, smiled at every event, gave up every part of myself — maybe then he would see me. Maybe then I’d matter to someone.”

Her voice cracked softly. “But I was wrong.”

“You were human,” Shikamaru said quietly. His voice was like warm smoke — slow, grounded, never demanding.

Ino smiled faintly, a tear slipping down her cheek. “That’s the thing, isn’t it? I stopped being human a long time ago. I became… a symbol. A wife. A queen. And when I started losing myself, you were the only person who reminded me I still had a heart.”

He brushed a strand of hair from her face, his thumb lingering on her jaw. “You never lost it. You just buried it too deep.”

She closed her eyes, breathing him in.

During these weeks together, she had said everything she never could before — about the pressure of her family name, the suffocating expectation that beauty and ambition would always win her what she wanted. About how she had used him once, out of pride and loneliness.

And Shikamaru — as always — had listened.

Now, she whispered, “I told myself that as long as I had you, I was winning something back. But it wasn’t fair to you, was it?”

He sighed, shaking his head lightly. “Ino, I knew what I was walking into. I stayed because I wanted to.”

Her eyes opened — blue and shimmering in the candlelight. “You love me too much,” she said softly.

“Probably,” he murmured with a crooked smile.

She laughed weakly, the sound trembling but real. Then her expression softened into something fragile and sincere. “I’m going to tell her,” she said. “Queen Mikoto. About the divorce. About us.”

Shikamaru’s brows lifted slightly. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” she said firmly. “There’s no point hiding it anymore. I need to end this chapter — not just for me, but for him too. Sasuke deserves peace… and so do we.”

Her fingers laced with his, their hands resting between them. “I want to live by your side,” she continued, her voice steady now. “Not as your secret, not as someone’s former queen — but as your partner.”

For a moment, he said nothing. Then, with quiet reverence, he pressed a kiss to her forehead. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear that.”

She smiled faintly, tears glistening in her eyes. “I think I do.”

As the last candle burned low, Ino felt, for the first time in years, something close to peace.
It was fragile, uncertain — but it was hers.

Chapter Text

The moon hung high over the quiet palace, its silver light bleeding faintly through the windowpanes as the night deepened. Naruto walked alongside Aoshi in silence, their steps crunching over the soft dirt of the forest path that led back toward the palace outskirts. The boy’s face was still pale and swollen from crying, his eyes dulled and unfocused. Naruto had offered him a place to stay earlier, and though Aoshi hadn’t said much, he’d nodded quietly — a silent plea for refuge.

When they reached the small guest dorms within the outer palace, Naruto gestured toward one of the rooms.
“You can stay here for as long as you need, Aoshi,” he said softly, trying to keep his tone light. “No one will bother you. I’ll make sure of that.”

Aoshi didn’t look up. He stood for a long moment in the doorway before whispering, voice breaking, “Thank you… Lord Naruto.”

Naruto smiled faintly. “Just Naruto’s fine.”

The boy gave a small nod, entering the dimly lit room. Naruto stood there for a while longer, watching him sit on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor — a child who’d just had his entire world shattered in one night. Then, with a heavy sigh, Naruto turned and made his way back toward the palace edge, knowing Sasuke and Hinata would still be awake.

---

The glow of a single candle flickered between Sasuke and Hinata as they lay together on the bed. The silence that surrounded them was not heavy — rather, it was fragile, like the quiet that follows after a storm. Hinata’s lavender eyes were swollen and red, her lashes damp with tears she had not yet finished shedding.

“I feel like the worst mother,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Everything he said… every cruel word… I deserved it.”

Sasuke turned to face her, his expression unreadable at first. He reached out, pulling her gently into his arms, his fingers tracing slow circles on her back. “Hinata…”

“No,” she interrupted softly, her words broken. “You don’t understand. I robbed him of the truth, of his father. I made him grow up believing lies because I was afraid. Afraid of the world, of the judgment, of what people would say… And now he hates me, Sasuke. I saw it in his eyes.”

Sasuke closed his eyes, tightening his hold around her. Her body trembled against him, her voice muffled as she buried her face against his chest. The small flame on the bedside table swayed, reflecting in the dark pools of Sasuke’s eyes.

“You did what you thought was best,” he said quietly. “You protected him the only way you knew how.”

“But it wasn’t enough,” she whispered. “I should have trusted him — trusted you.”

He exhaled slowly, his chin brushing her hair. “We can’t change the past, Hinata. But we can decide what happens next. And right now, you need to think of yourself… and the baby.”

She froze, her breath catching in her throat. The words still felt foreign to her — the baby.
Her hand instinctively moved to her abdomen, where life had quietly taken root without her knowing. “It’s too risky, Sasuke,” she whispered after a moment. “I’m still carrying the burden of one hidden child… and now another. You’re divorced, but not publicly. If anyone finds out—”

“I know,” Sasuke cut in, his tone calm but firm. “It’s complicated. But I won’t let this child — or you — be hidden in the shadows again. I’ve been thinking about it… and the only way to protect all of you is to make it official.”

Hinata looked up at him, her eyes wide, shining in the dim candlelight. “You mean—”

“Yes,” he said simply. “Marriage. As soon as possible.”

She blinked, speechless for a moment. The thought both warmed and terrified her. “Sasuke… I—”

He touched her cheek, brushing away a stray tear. “Don’t worry too much. For now, you need to focus on healing — and on making things right with Aoshi. When he’s ready.”

Hinata nodded faintly, her heart heavy but steadied by his words. “Yes… that has to come first.”

---

A soft knock at the door broke the quiet moment. Sasuke straightened slightly, and Naruto’s voice came from the other side.
“It’s me.”

“Come in,” Sasuke said.

Naruto stepped inside, his face tired but gentle. “He’s safe. I took him to my dorms. He… doesn’t want to come back yet. He said he needs time.”

Hinata’s eyes immediately filled with tears again. “Oh, my baby…” she whispered, clutching at the sheets.

Sasuke reached out and placed a steadying hand over hers. “Hinata,” he murmured, a quiet warning. “You can’t let your emotions take control right now — not with the baby.”

Naruto blinked, startled. “The baby?”

Sasuke exchanged a look with Hinata before answering. “Shiro examined her. She’s with child — about five weeks.”

For a moment, Naruto stood completely still, his eyes darting between the two of them. Then, slowly, a small, soft smile curved his lips. “I’ll be damned…” he said quietly. “Guess the universe really wants the two of you together, huh?”

Hinata gave a small, watery laugh despite herself, while Sasuke only sighed, the ghost of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Naruto walked closer, resting a reassuring hand on Sasuke’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep Aoshi safe until he’s ready. He just needs time to understand everything. You two… focus on each other for now.”

Hinata nodded silently, and Sasuke gave Naruto a grateful glance — the kind of look that didn’t need words.

As Naruto left the room, closing the door quietly behind him, Hinata leaned back into Sasuke’s embrace. The candle flickered, the shadows dancing over the walls like echoes of the past.

---

For a long minute neither spoke.“What do we do now? How do we make sure Aoshi isn’t harmed — or worse, turned against us forever?

Sasuke’s reply came slow and practical, his voice steady like the sluice of a river: “We make a plan. We move in careful steps.

“What steps?” she asked, clutching his hand.

“We will not force Aoshi . He’s with Naruto now, he will keep him safe and give him space. You must not rush him. When he’s calm, I will speak to him. Not as king, but as his father. Not to demand forgiveness, but to listen. To make room for him to be angry and still be our son.”

Hinata’s breath hitched at the word father.“Do you really think he’ll ever—”

“I don’t know,” Sasuke admitted. “But silence will make him harder to reach. Angry men lash out, which makes children run. We have to be the gentler option. Naruto will be our anchor for now.”

He moved to the second point. “Then is your health. Shiro will oversee it, he told me he will design a diet, rest schedule, and treatments, for now nothing will be public. Just a set of medical records and careful care. We cannot risk any complications, we need you well.”

Hinata nodded, swallowing. “He said five weeks.”

“Right.” Sasuke’s jaw tightened. “Then we have the legal and political steps. The divorce is already finalized legally, which is an advantage, I will quietly speak to two trusted members of the council — people who will respond not out of loyalty to me alone but because they care for the stability of the realm. They will help prepare the ground so when we make announcements it will look like a stabilizing move, not a scandal.”

She frowned. “Do you think Ino will tell your mother anytime soon?

“I’m not too sure ,” Sasuke said. “Ino has known of the divorce the minute it was made effective, she has had time to process this. Her silence for now is an ally, I am also aware she has already chosen Shikamaru and herself as a step toward a new life, it’s just a matter of time before she admits it. But If she decides to tell my mother, knowing her she will be discreet — but still, we must prepare slowly. Rumors spread; the fewer loose threads, the better.”

“When the truth comes out people will make it about bloodlines and the Hyuga. Aoshi carries Hyuga blood — there will be whispers.” Her hands were trembling. “They will probably repudiate him, or our baby, or both.”

Sasuke’s fingers tightened around hers. “Then we fight those whispers before they start. I will appoint Ren and a few other respected Hyuga allies into visible roles — honors and duties that show the Hyuga are integrated, respected, and essential to the crown’s strength. Public gestures can change the narrative. But only after we have Aoshi’s trust.”

“And the child?” Hinata whispered. “If we marry, the child will be born legitimate…”

Sasuke’s answer was immediate and calm. “Yes. If we can marry officially and publicly before the child is visibly obvious, the narrative becomes protection, not concealment. The child will be born into a recognized union. That gives the child security and rights, and it changes how the court will treat us.”

She swallowed. “Can that happen fast enough? It feels… rushed.”

“It will be deliberate, not reckless,” he said. “I will inform two councilors tonight. I will ask them to prepare the necessary documents and to arrange a discreet proclamation timeline. Naruto will continue to shield Aoshi from court talk. And when the time is right, we make the marriage public and frame it as a step to stabilize the dynasty — to secure an heir and heal old divisions. The story the court tells will be ours to shape.”

Hinata’s tears fell again, softer now. “I want to make it right with Aoshi first. I want to kneel before him and beg his forgiveness, not force him into some ceremony. If he will not come back, then the marriage will be hollow.”

“Then we begin where he is,” Sasuke promised. “You do not have to face Aoshi yet. Let Naruto build that bridge first. When he is ready, I will speak to him. I will speak to him as a father who will try to do better. That conversation will be private, and it will be honest.”

They lay quiet for a long time, the candle’s flame making slow shapes on the ceiling. Hinata’s breathing evened when she spoke again, small and determined. “We will do it for the children,” she said. “For Aoshi and for this unborn child. For them to grow without dishonour, without hiding.”

Sasuke kissed her forehead. “For them. And for you. You will not carry this alone.”

A long, steady beat of silence; then Hinata, in a voice that finally sounded like it believed what it spoke, asked, “Will you talk to Aoshi when he’s ready?”

“I will,” Sasuke said. “And Naruto will stand with me. We’ll give him the time he needs tonight and tomorrow. For now, rest. Shiro left some bitters and a broth for you. When morning comes, Naruto will check again on Aoshi, and I will begin the first steps with the council — quietly.”

Hinata curled into him, the candlelight soft across their joined hands. Her next words were small and raw. “I am so scared .”

“Then let me be your courage tonight,” Sasuke answered. “We will move slowly. We will be honest where it matters. We will protect them.”

They stayed like that until the candle burned low, planning in whispers and short sentences, folding strategy into tenderness. The night had shifted from accusation to a blueprint — part apology, part policy — but it was theirs. They would begin, carefully, to rebuild what had been broken.

Chapter Text

The following week unfolded with the kind of stillness that only followed a storm.
Each day began the same — Hinata waking to the scent of dried herbs and warm broth prepared by Shiro, who quietly supervised her health. His presence was steady, his tone gentle but firm, reminding her at every visit that she was carrying more than her guilt.

When Sasuke wasn’t by her side, he was buried in the affairs of the realm — but even that work had changed its tone. Subtly, he began planting the seeds of his next move: the integration of the Hyūga into positions of visibility and honour. Trusted members of the clan were reassigned to the royal guard, the council’s archives, and the palace’s library. Sasuke justified it publicly as “strengthening alliances between old houses,” but those who looked closer could sense something more deliberate — an invisible reweaving of history.

For Hinata, those gestures meant everything.
She saw how carefully he moved, how each small act of recognition toward her people was a wordless apology for fifteen years of silence.

But while the adults moved through their days in hushed understanding, Aoshi lived in another rhythm entirely.
He kept to Naruto’s dorm — a modest, sunlit place on the edge of the grounds. Naruto gave him space, company, and food, and though Aoshi didn’t speak much, he listened. He trained, he read, and in the quiet hours of morning, he walked the same woods where he had once fled in anger.

Anger was still there — but softer now, tempered by exhaustion and thought.
He could not deny that things were beginning to make sense: the way his mother’s eyes would cloud at the mention of the Uchiha name, the way she would always avoid the palace walls, the strange pull she had toward the very man he’d once seen as a stranger.

Every evening, Hinata would ask Naruto for updates — “Is he eating?” “ Sleeping? “ “Training too hard again?”
Every time, Naruto reassured her. “He’s okay”. “Give him time”.

And every night, Sasuke returned home late, careful not to draw suspicion. He’d sit beside Hinata’s bed until she drifted into sleep, sometimes brushing his fingers along her hair as though to convince himself she was truly there.

On the fourth day, Sasuke knew waiting any longer would only deepen the distance.
So he decided to face his son.

---

The training grounds were nearly empty when Sasuke arrived — only the sharp rhythm of a wooden blade cutting through air.
Aoshi stood at the center, focused, his movements precise but heavy. His breathing came in short bursts, the kind that belonged to someone fighting something far greater than a practice routine.

When he turned and saw Sasuke, his body stilled.
The air between them thickened with all the unspoken things that neither knew how to start.

Sasuke approached slowly, his tone calm but unyielding.
“Walk with me.”

Aoshi hesitated, the wooden sword lowering. For a heartbeat, it seemed he might refuse — but something in Sasuke’s expression, quiet but resolute, disarmed him. He nodded once.
They walked side by side, distant but moving in the same direction.

The path led them through the woods, where the sound of the leaves softened the silence between them. They reached a meadow — the same one where Sasuke had once sat with Hinata so many years ago. The air smelled of wild mint and river mist.

Sasuke gestured to the fallen trunk nearby. “Sit.”

Aoshi obeyed, his eyes cautious but curious. Sasuke remained standing for a long while before speaking.

---

“I met your mother when I was nine,” Sasuke began, voice low, carrying both memory and ache. “She was seven — small, shy, and already too kind for this world. Her father had just died protecting my father during an armed conflict . It was his last act. Out of gratitude, my father took his family under our protection. Hinata and her mother moved into the palace. That’s where it all began.”

Aoshi looked up, surprised. Sasuke’s eyes softened.

“My father, the late King Fugaku, assigned me the duty to watch over her in a way. She wasn’t of noble blood, and because of that, she couldn’t live among the high halls. But she was given a place in the servants’ quarters — and I… I found excuses to visit.” He smiled faintly. “At first, I told myself it was duty. Later, I stopped lying. We grew up together. We shared meals, secrets, lessons… and eventually, something more.

“When I lost my father, she was there. And when she lost her mother soon after, I was there. We kept each other alive.”

He paused, the memory pulling at his chest. “We were inseparable. But in a palace where love was measured by bloodlines, what we had became a secret. We learned to steal moments. To speak in glances instead of words.”

Aoshi’s eyes followed him, the resentment slowly giving way to something more fragile.

“During our early teenage years,” Sasuke continued, “we knew it wasn’t friendship anymore. It was love. Real. The kind that refuses to die quietly. We made plans. Small ones — foolish, maybe. But they were ours. And then, one night, everything fell apart. The attack. The river. I thought I’d lost her.”

He drew in a deep breath, eyes fixed on the horizon. “I searched for months and when they found her sword downstream, I stopped. I believed she was gone. I built a life around that emptiness.”

There was silence — long, trembling silence.
Then Sasuke’s voice shifted, softer.

“I realized you were my son during the festival,” he said. “You moved like her — calm, precise — but when you struck that finishing move, I saw myself. It was our move. One I had taught her years ago and told her to pass on someday to our children. When I saw it, I knew.”

Aoshi’s throat tightened. Sasuke went on.

“Still, I doubted. It seemed impossible. Until the night before we reached your home — I saw something around your neck. The pendant. The same one I gave Hinata for her fifteenth birthday. The same one I thought had vanished with her. When I saw it, everything fell into place. The anger. The confusion. The hope.”

He turned toward his son. “That’s when I knew you were mine. And that she had survived — all this time — protecting you from a world she thought would never forgive her.”

The boy’s breath trembled. His eyes fell to the grass, blinking fast. For the first time, the walls around his heart began to fracture.

He remembered his mother’s quiet panic the day Naruto and Sasuke had come to their cabin, the way her hands shook, the way she had looked at Sasuke like a ghost from another life.
It made sense now. Too much sense.

---

Sasuke rose slowly and extended his hand. “There’s something I want to show you.”

Aoshi followed, wordless. They walked back toward the palace, taking a narrow passage seldom used — a quiet route beneath the shade of stone arches. The path ended before a small wooden door in the servants’ wing.

Sasuke produced an old iron key and turned it. The hinges groaned softly as the door opened.

The room inside was small but spotless — preserved as though time had forgotten it. The scent of lavender still lingered faintly in the air. A neatly folded quilt, a vase, a cracked mirror, and a single sword rack at the far wall.

Aoshi froze. “This was… hers.”

Sasuke nodded. “Hinata’s room. I kept it exactly as it was. Nobody but me has entered here since that night.”

“Well, it was only Nana and me,” Sasuke began. “She was the cook. Your mother, Naruto, and I shared a lot of our childhood with her — she was like a grandmother to us. That’s why I decided only she and I would have access to the room.”

“Where is she now?” Aoshi asked.

Sasuke fell silent for a moment before answering quietly, “She passed away seven years ago. Old age. It was peaceful — she died in her sleep.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Aoshi said softly, unsure what else to say.

Sasuke gave a small nod. “It’s all right. It’s been years,” he said, though the warmth of Nana’s presence still lingered in his and Naruto’s memories.

He stepped forward, opened the drawer beneath the rack, and carefully lifted a sheathed blade — slender, elegant, and etched with faint markings of the Hyūga crest.

“This was her sword,” Sasuke said quietly. “Forged for her eighteenth birthday. A symbol of her strength — and my promise to her. When it was found by the river, I thought it meant she was gone. That sword ended the search… and the life we had.”

He handed it to Aoshi, who took it as though holding a piece of memory itself. The boy’s throat closed, and before he could stop himself, the tears began.

He cried — not the restrained, quiet kind, but the deep, shaking sobs of a child who had carried too much for too long. Sasuke stepped forward and drew him into his arms, holding him tight, steady, unyielding.

Aoshi buried his face in Sasuke’s chest. “Why… why did it have to be like this?” he whispered, voice muffled.

Sasuke’s answer came as a murmur into his hair. “Because sometimes love has to fight through cruelty to find its place. Because your mother was brave enough to protect you alone when I wasn’t there. And because now that I am, I won’t let either of you stand alone again.”

He pressed a hand to the back of his son’s head. “It’s okay to be angry. To not forgive yet. You have every right. But know this — I will never stop trying to earn it.”

Aoshi’s hands clutched at him tighter, the sobs subsiding into slow, uneven breaths. For the first time, the word father began to take shape in his heart.

They stood there in the quiet of that old room, surrounded by relics of the past, and for the first time in fifteen years, the Uchiha line felt whole again — not in politics, not in duty, but in truth.

Chapter Text

The sun had barely started to dip beneath the horizon when father and son finally parted ways.
The meadow far behind them glowed in the last wash of gold — a silent witness to their reconciliation, fragile yet real.

Sasuke was the first to speak.

“I have affairs to attend to,” he said softly, brushing a leaf from his sleeve. “But before I go, listen to me, Aoshi.”

The boy looked up, his eyes still faintly red from crying.

“I won’t force you to call me father,” Sasuke continued, his voice steady but warm. “You’ve lived your whole life without one. I can’t expect you to change that overnight. Just know that I’m here. Whether you call me by name or not, you’ll always be my son.”

Aoshi’s chest tightened. There was no grandeur in Sasuke’s words, only quiet sincerity — and for Aoshi, that was enough. He nodded, his voice small but grateful.
“I… understand. Thank you.”

A fleeting smile crossed Sasuke’s face — brief, rare, but genuine. A fleeting smile crossed Sasuke’s face — brief, rare, but genuine.

He stepped closer and he lightly flicked his forehead.
Taken aback by the rare act, Aoshi blinked, then simply nodded, not quite understanding its meaning.
Sasuke turned away, his cloak swaying lightly as he disappeared into the path leading toward the palace.

When he was gone, Aoshi remained where he was, the sound of cicadas rising in the growing dusk.

He saw her again in his mind — his mother, weeping, begging him to forgive her, her voice cracking beneath the weight of years she had carried alone.
I just wanted to protect you, she had said.
And he… he had answered her with anger.

The memory stung more than any wound.
He’d thought he’d been betrayed, but now he understood that it was sacrifice, not deceit, that had shaped her silence. Every tear she’d shed, every sleepless night in that small cabin — it had all been for him.

Aoshi rose, determination replacing sorrow.
It was time to go home.
He didn’t know what he would say, or if the words would come out right, but he knew he needed to face her — not as the furious boy who had left, but as her son.

---

The palace grounds were quieter than usual that evening. Servants moved through the corridors like ghosts, carrying out their nightly duties. The air smelled faintly of rain, and the sky hung heavy with clouds, purple and low.

From one of the upper terraces, Orochimaru observed it all with the same predatory calm that had earned him both reverence and fear within the royal household. As the Queen’s personal advisor, he was accustomed to silence — it was, after all, where truth often whispered the loudest.

He had been overseeing the inspection of the western wing, ensuring preparations for the upcoming council meeting were complete.
He was halfway through instructing a group of stewards when something — a flicker, a movement at the edge of his vision — caught his attention.

A boy.
Young, lean, dressed simply, walking across the lower courtyard toward the outer gardens.

At first, Orochimaru thought little of it. But then, as the boy turned slightly to glance toward the path ahead, the light caught his face.

And Orochimaru froze.

Those eyes — dark, calm, sharp — that walk, that posture. It was like watching a memory made flesh.
He’d seen that face before. Many times.
It was Sasuke’s.

He blinked once, twice, his mind racing.
Impossible.

But then he remembered.
A conversation from weeks ago, with Queen Mikoto.

When they were in the training grounds.
She had said to him that she saw someone that looked just like Sasuke when he was sixteen.
Orochimaru had brushed it off then, suggesting it was perhaps a palace trainee she’d mistaken in the distance. But now — now he wasn’t so sure.

The resemblance was too precise, too haunting.

“Excuse me,” he murmured to the stewards, his tone smooth as ever. “I must attend to another matter. Continue as instructed.”

Without waiting for a reply, he slipped away.

His steps were near soundless, the hem of his long robes brushing against the marble as he descended the staircase. The boy was already moving further from the main palace, toward the concealed eastern edge — an area few ever visited, where the trees grew thick and the path narrowed into silence.

Orochimaru followed, always keeping his distance. The boy hadn’t noticed. He walked with purpose, occasionally brushing his sleeve across his eyes as if trying to steady himself. There was a heaviness in his movements — the kind born not from exhaustion, but emotion.

And then, through the branches, Orochimaru saw it.

A small house. Modest, built of stone and timber, nearly hidden by vines and an old sakura tree whose blossoms still clung to the last breath of autumn.
It was a house that, to anyone unfamiliar with the palace grounds, would seem invisible — deliberately so.

The boy stopped at the door. His hand trembled before he knocked.

Seconds later, the door opened.

Orochimaru leaned slightly forward, his serpentine eyes narrowing.

Standing there — pale, fragile, eyes wide with disbelief and love — was a woman he had not seen in fifteen years.
A woman whose death had reshaped the royal household.

Hinata Hyūga.

The servant girl who had vanished after the attack.
The girl who had shared a forbidden love with Sasuke when they were barely kids.
The girl who had haunted Sasuke’s silence for over a decade.

Orochimaru’s breath stilled.
He watched as she threw her arms around the boy, clutching him desperately. Tears glistened down her cheeks as she whispered something into his shoulder, and the boy — the mirror of young Sasuke — hugged her back, trembling, crying softly.

For a moment, it felt as if the world had tilted.

The dead had come back to life.
The King’s secret was no longer hidden.

Orochimaru stepped back into the shadows, his expression unreadable, though his mind was already spinning. The implications were staggering — politically, personally, dangerously.
If what he was seeing was true, the royal line had an heir no one knew of, and the King had been keeping more than one secret.

And as the mother and son clung to each other in the doorway of that forgotten home, Orochimaru disappeared into the night — carrying with him the kind of knowledge that could shift the balance of an empire.

---

The evening light slipped softly through the windowpanes, painting pale streaks of silver across the wooden floor.
The house was quiet — too quiet — save for the faint hum of wind brushing against the trees outside.

Hinata stood in the small kitchen, a cloth in one hand, absently wiping the same corner of the table over and over. The motions were mechanical, her mind far elsewhere. Her thoughts drifted endlessly toward the training grounds, towards Aoshi and Sasuke.

He had been there that morning, earlier than usual. He hadn’t stayed long — just enough to ensure she’d eaten, to ask softly how she was feeling, to brush his hand briefly against her belly with a look of wonder and quiet worry. Then he’d told her he wouldn’t be able to come by that evening. There were matters he needed to attend to, matters she knew were not simple.

When he left, the house had felt heavier.
She tried to busy herself — cleaning, tending the small garden outside, folding and refolding the few clothes Aoshi had left behind.
Every fold, every touch, made her chest ache a little more.

The silence that had once comforted her now clawed at her nerves.

Then — a knock.

A gentle, hesitant sound.

Hinata froze.
Her heart leapt in her chest. Sasuke never knocked. He always announced himself softly.

She turned slowly toward the door, her pulse drumming loud enough that she could hear it in her ears.

Another knock — firmer this time.

She wiped her hands on her apron, trying to steady her breath.

When she opened the door, the air left her body.

Standing there, framed by the early afternoon light, was Aoshi.

He looked exhausted, his eyes rimmed red, his clothes still marked by the dust of the training fields. He didn’t speak — didn’t even try.

Hinata’s lips parted soundlessly, her eyes trembling.

For a long, suspended moment, they simply stared at one another — mother and son, divided by guilt and grief and love too fierce to name.

Then, as if her body moved before her mind could catch up, Hinata stumbled forward and threw her arms around him.

Her hands gripped his shoulders, then his back, and finally she pressed him into her chest — the same way she had when he was small enough to carry, when his tears had once soaked the fabric of her robes after scraped knees or childish fears.

Her voice broke into sobs before she could even form words.

“Aoshi… Aoshi, my baby…”

The sound tore through the quiet house, raw and unguarded.

All the restraint, all the composure she’d forced herself to maintain over the years, shattered in that instant. She cried like a woman who had been waiting fifteen years for one miracle, and now, after almost losing it again, was terrified it would vanish once more.

Aoshi stood stiff at first. His arms hung at his sides, unsure, hesitant — like a boy caught between wanting to flee and wanting to collapse. But when he felt her trembling against him, the warmth of her tears soaking through his shirt, something inside him broke.

Slowly — painfully slowly — he lifted his arms and wrapped them around her.

He buried his face against her shoulder. The scent was the same — lavender and cedar, faint but familiar — the scent of home.

“Ma…” he whispered, his voice cracking.

Hinata’s sobs deepened. She clutched him tighter, as if afraid that if she loosened her hold, he might disappear again like a dream fading at dawn.

“I’m so sorry,” she choked out between sobs. “I’m so, so sorry for everything I’ve done… for not telling you, for keeping everything from you. You have every right to hate me.”

Aoshi shook his head against her, his own tears spilling silently now.
“I don’t hate you,” he said, the words trembling. “I was angry, but… I don’t hate you. I understand now.”

Hinata pulled back just enough to see his face. Her hands cupped his cheeks, her thumbs brushing away his tears with the same tenderness she had when he was a child.
“You shouldn’t have had to grow up like that,” she whispered. “You shouldn’t have had to carry my choices.”

“I know why you did it,” Aoshi said, his voice small but sure. “I talked to him… to Sasuke.”

Her breath hitched.

Her eyes widened slightly — not in fear, but in fragile relief. “You did?”

He nodded. “He told me everything. About when you were young. About the two of you.”
He paused, searching her eyes. “I get it now. You weren’t just protecting yourself — you were protecting me.”

Hinata’s lips trembled. She wanted to say something, but no words came. Instead, she pressed her forehead to his, her tears falling freely again.
“I was so afraid,” she murmured. “Every day, I thought — if they found out, they’d take you away from me. I couldn’t bear that. You’re my whole world, Aoshi. You always have been.”

He swallowed hard. His hands — larger now, stronger — came up to hold her wrists gently.
“I know, Ma.”
A pause. Then softer: “I just wish you’d trusted me enough to tell me sooner.”

Hinata nodded weakly. “You’re right.” Her voice was a whisper of defeat and hope all at once. “I wanted to. So many times. But every time I looked at you, all I could see was how dangerous the truth could be for you. I thought I was doing the right thing.”

They stayed like that for a while — holding each other, saying nothing.

When she finally pulled away, she brushed his hair back — the same way she had when he was small and couldn’t sleep. “You even walk like him.”she said quietly

“I guess that’s not such a bad thing,” Aoshi replied, a faint smile ghosting across his lips. “He’s not as bad as I thought.”

Hinata let out a breath that was half laugh, half sob. “No. He’s not.”

Aoshi’s gaze softened. “He told me to take my time — that I didn’t have to call him father until I was ready.”

Hinata looked away for a moment, her chest tightening again. “He said that?”

“Yeah.”

Her hand found his again and squeezed it gently. “Then take your time. But know that whatever happens next… you’ll always have us. Both of us.”

Aoshi nodded, his eyes glistening but steadier now. “I know.”

Outside, the wind shifted, carrying the faint scent of rain. The candle flickered on the table behind them, its flame bending toward the window as if bowing to the moment’s fragile peace.

For the first time in what felt like years, Hinata smiled without guilt.
And for the first time since learning the truth, Aoshi felt what he hadn’t realized he’d been missing — home.
---

The palace was hushed beneath the silver veil of night.
A cool breeze drifted through the open corridors, carrying the faint fragrance of night lilies from the royal garden.

Ino stood before the great doors of the royal library — the one place she had long learned Queen Mikoto sought refuge when she wished to think undisturbed. Her heart thudded softly in her chest. Tonight was not about politics, nor about reputation. It was about truth — raw, necessary truth that she could no longer carry alone.

She took a slow breath, adjusted her posture, and knocked.

“Enter,” came the Queen’s voice — calm, firm, and unmistakably composed.

Ino pushed the door open.

Inside, the dimly lit chamber glowed under the soft light of the moon filtering through the arched windows. The scent of old parchment and ink filled the air. Queen Mikoto stood by the balcony, her silhouette traced in pale light, eyes lifted toward the sky.

The moon reflected in her dark hair like frost.

Without turning, Mikoto spoke — her tone laced with the kind of knowing that stripped away all pretense.
“So… you’ve finally come to tell me what’s been going on with you.”

Her words weren’t sharp, but they cut cleanly nonetheless.

Ino stiffened. She’d expected questions, even accusations — but not such direct certainty. “Y-you knew?”

Mikoto turned at last, her gaze cool and assessing. “My dear, I may be old, but I am not blind. You’ve been walking through the palace like a ghost these past weeks. Sasuke as well. Something shifted between you two — anyone with eyes could see it.”

Ino swallowed hard. For a moment, she considered softening the truth — but what would be the point? This conversation was long overdue.
“You’re right, Your Majesty,” she began quietly. “There’s no use in pretending anymore.”

She stepped closer, her voice trembling slightly but steadying with every word.
“Sasuke and I… are no longer married. The divorce was finalized a little over a month ago.”

Mikoto’s face didn’t immediately change — but her stillness was telling. Her hands, always folded with elegance, tightened slightly at her sides.
“Divorced?” she repeated softly, almost to herself.

“Yes,” Ino said. “And before you ask, it wasn’t sudden. Not for him, at least.” She took a deep breath, forcing the words out. “He made it clear from the beginning — our union was one of duty, not love. I knew it, I accepted it, and still… I deluded myself into thinking that maybe, over time, I could change that.”

Her voice broke — just slightly.

“I thought that if I was patient enough, if I was perfect enough, he would look at me the way he once looked at her.”

Mikoto’s gaze sharpened. “Her?”

Ino gave a bitter, almost self-mocking smile. “You know who I mean. The Hyūga girl. Hinata.”

A shadow flickered through the Queen’s eyes — a memory, perhaps, of a name long buried.

Ino continued, her tone quieter now, almost confessional.
“When we married, I convinced myself that my title, your approval, the alliance between our clans — that all of it would matter more than the ghosts of his past. But I was wrong. The truth is, I was in love with an idea — not the man himself. And when he finally asked for the divorce, I was angry, hurt… I even hated him for a time. But now—”

She paused, looking down at her hands. “Now I understand. He didn’t betray me. I betrayed myself by believing he ever loved me.”

Silence fell between them. The moonlight shifted, washing their faces in pale glow — one worn by age and wisdom, the other by the fragile calm that follows heartbreak.

When Mikoto finally spoke, her voice was softer, but her authority remained intact.
“I imagined many things that could’ve happened,” she said slowly. “But not this. That my son would dissolve a royal marriage — and keep it from me.”

Ino lowered her eyes. “I believe he didn’t tell anyone. He only confided in me, the council’s registrar, and perhaps Naruto. That’s all.”

The Queen let out a quiet breath — not of relief, but restraint. “I see.” She turned back toward the balcony, her expression unreadable. “I won’t ask you to justify him. I know Sasuke’s heart well enough to understand that when he makes such a choice, it’s never without reason. Still…” Her voice hardened slightly. “He seems to have forgotten what it is to sit on the throne.”

Ino’s lips parted to respond — but a sudden knock echoed through the library.

Both women turned as the door opened.

Orochimaru stepped in, bowing lightly. His sharp yellow eyes flicked between the two women, his expression unusually grave.
“Forgive the intrusion, Your Majesty,” he said smoothly. “But there’s something you both must hear. Urgently.”

Mikoto arched a brow. “It must be of great importance if it brings you here at this hour.”

“It is.” His tone was uncharacteristically cautious — even hesitant. “I was walking near the lower palace gardens when I caught sight of something…—or rather, someone. A boy, perhaps fifteen, who bears an uncanny resemblance to King Sasuke. I followed him discreetly, and he led me to the small residence on the palace’s edge.”

He paused, his eyes narrowing. “When he knocked, a woman answered. I saw her face clearly.”

Mikoto’s eyes sharpened. “Who was she?”

Orochimaru hesitated — a rare thing for him. “Hinata Hyūga.”

The silence that followed was suffocating.

Ino gasped, her hand flying to her chest. “That’s impossible… she—she died fifteen years ago.”

Orochimaru inclined his head slightly. “So I thought. But I know what I saw. She’s alive. And from what I observed… the boy and the woman embraced as mother and son would.”

The Queen’s gaze turned distant — but her body went utterly still. Ino, on the other hand, paled visibly, her breath shallow.

Hinata. Alive.
The realization hit her like a blade to the chest. So that’s why…
The sudden divorce. Sasuke’s shift in demeanor. The quiet trips he made outside the palace. It all fell into place with frightening clarity.

Ino stepped back, whispering almost to herself, “It all makes sense now…”

Mikoto remained unmoving. For a long moment, no one spoke. Then, slowly, she turned back toward the advisor, her voice steady but low.
“Orochimaru… does anyone else know of what you’ve seen?”

“No, Your Majesty,” he said smoothly. “Not yet.”

“Good.” Her eyes cut to Ino — sharp as glass. “Then it will remain that way until I decide otherwise.”

Orochimaru nodded, understanding the weight of the unspoken order.

Then Mikoto faced Ino fully.
“Who else knows of the divorce?”

The sudden shift startled even Orochimaru. He blinked, glancing briefly between them.

Ino hesitated. “Just the registrar… Naruto may suspect, and of course Sasuke himself. Perhaps Hinata, now.”

The Queen’s jaw tightened. “Then the matter stays buried. I won’t have the court learning of this yet — not until I’ve spoken to my son myself.”

Orochimaru inclined his head again. “Understood, Your Majesty.”

“You’re dismissed for now,” she told him, her tone softer but firm. “I will call for you when needed.”

Once he was gone, Ino turned toward her Queen — toward the woman who had once been her greatest supporter, almost a second mother.
“What will you do?” she asked quietly.

Mikoto’s expression softened for a fleeting moment before hardening again into the calm mask of a ruler. “What I must. I’ll speak to Sasuke tomorrow morning — and I will get the truth from him. As for Hinata…” her gaze drifted to the window once more, to the pale light of the moon. “If she truly lives… then the past has come knocking at last.”

She paused, almost whispering. “My son has a child I never knew of. And I—” her voice faltered, barely audible, “—am a grandmother.”

The words lingered in the cold air like a confession to the night.

---

Chapter Text

Though Mikoto had told everyone that first thing in the morning she would pay Sasuke a visit to demand explanations, in truth, she had no intention of confronting her son — not yet. Her heart was restless, her thoughts consumed by Orochimaru’s cryptic words.

If what he’d said about the Hyuga woman and the boy who looked like Sasuke was true… then there could be no mistake. That child — that young man — had to be her grandson.

The thought made her stomach twist. Anger burned beneath her ribs, mixed with confusion, sorrow, and something else — guilt. Had Sasuke known all along? Had he learned about the boy since the festival? It would explain everything — the distance, the quiet smiles he thought no one noticed, the subtle change in his eyes whenever someone mentioned the Hyuga clan.

Only a mother would have seen it.

Still cloaked in shadow, Mikoto wrapped herself in a thick cloak and stepped out before dawn. The palace was asleep, but she knew the training grounds would not be. Soldiers began their drills at first light; that much she remembered from the old days.

As she walked across the misty courtyard, her heart pounded. What am I even doing?she thought. If it’s true, if he really is Sasuke’s son…She drew a sharp breath. Then I need to see him with my own eyes.

The clang of steel on steel echoed as she approached. The soldiers froze the instant they noticed her, surprise flashing across their faces. The Queen’s visits to the training yard were rare — almost unheard of.

“Please,” Mikoto said softly, forcing a composed smile. “Continue your drills. Don’t mind me.”

Her voice was calm, but her hands trembled beneath her cloak. She moved among the soldiers until she saw him — the boy.

And for an instant, the world stopped.

He stood with a sword in hand, his stance solid, precise — too precise. It was Sasuke’s posture to the letter, the same way he used to square his shoulders before striking. But there was something else, too — the stillness, the quiet intensity of the Hyuga. His eyes, black and luminous, caught the light just so, and Mikoto’s breath caught.

He was her son’s mirror… and yet not.

So it’s true, she thought. He’s mine — my blood.

She lingered at the edge of the grounds until the boy turned, sensing her gaze. Their eyes met — opal to opal — and Mikoto’s heart gave a painful jolt.

Aoshi froze. Recognition flickered across his face. He’d seen her before — in portraits, and from the distance. He bowed quickly, posture rigid. “Your Majesty,” he said, voice measured, polite. “Forgive me. I didn’t realize you were here.”

Mikoto shook her head, her throat tight. “You don’t need to apologize.”

He straightened, uncertain. She could see his unease, the way his fingers fidgeted near the hilt of his sword. He looked so much like Sasuke — not just in appearance, but in the guarded way he held himself, like a boy carrying too many secrets.

As he began to turn away, she spoke without thinking.
“How are your trainings going?”

The question slipped out awkwardly, too casual, too sudden. She almost winced at herself.

Aoshi blinked, caught off guard. “Ah… well enough, I suppose. Lord Sasuke — His Majesty — expects a lot from us.”

“Does he?” Mikoto asked softly, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “He always did expect too much — even of himself.”

Aoshi gave a small, uncertain chuckle. “So I’ve heard.”

For a moment, they stood there, an unlikely pair — Queen and trainee — the early light washing over them. Mikoto studied him in silence, memorizing every detail: the way his hair fell into his face, the determined set of his jaw, the quiet strength in his eyes.

“What’s your name?” she asked at last.

“Aoshi,” he said, hesitating just slightly.

The name struck her like a whisper from the past. Mikoto repeated it under her breath, almost reverently. “Aoshi...”

He nodded. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

“You fight well,” she continued gently. “Sasuke doesn’t choose lightly. You must have impressed him.”

Aoshi looked away. “I was… fortunate.”

“I don’t think it was luck.” Her gaze softened. “You remind me of him. The way you stand. The way you hold your blade.”

That did it. Aoshi froze — utterly still, like a deer caught in the open. His grip on the sword tightened. Mikoto saw the flicker of panic in his eyes, the way he lowered his gaze to hide it. That was enough. She had her answer.

He knew.

He knew everything.

The truth settled heavy in her chest — not as anger, but as something strangely tender, almost protective. He wasn’t just Sasuke’s secret… he was family.

Realizing she’d said too much, Mikoto exhaled slowly and forced a smile. “It’s early still. I shouldn’t keep you from your training.”

Aoshi bowed again, visibly relieved. “It was an honor speaking with you, Your Majesty.”

“The honor was mine,” Mikoto murmured.

As he walked back toward the field, Mikoto stood rooted in place, the morning air cool against her cheeks. For a moment, she forgot the politics, the secrecy, the years of silence. All she could feel was warmth — the same warmth that once filled her heart the first time she’d held Sasuke in her arms.

She turned away, her steps slow, steady. There was someone she needed to see — but not at the palace. Not yet.

Behind her, Aoshi paused mid-step, glancing over his shoulder. He watched the Queen’s figure disappear into the mist and felt a strange ache in his chest — something unfamiliar but quietly comforting.

Neither of them could name it, but both carried it with them for the rest of the day —
a warmth born from recognition, and from a bond that had finally, silently, begun to awaken.
---
The path to the small house was one Mikoto knew too well.
Long ago — in the early days of her marriage to King Fugaku — this hidden cottage, nearly swallowed by the forest at the edge of the palace grounds, had been their escape. A place untouched by duty or decorum. She hadn’t stepped foot here in decades, yet every tree, every stone in the path seemed to remember her.

When Orochimaru mentioned the concealed house where he’d seen them, she had known immediately where to go.

The morning fog clung to her cloak as she reached the door. For a long moment, she hesitated — her hand hovering just above the wood. Then she knocked, once, twice.

The door creaked open.

Hinata stood there, pale as moonlight, her hand frozen on the latch. Of all the people who could have come to her home, Mikoto Uchiha — the Queen Mother — was the last she’d ever imagined.

“M-Mikoto-sama…” Her voice trembled, her lips barely forming the words.

For Mikoto, the sight was like seeing a ghost. The woman she had believed to be dead— the woman whose absence had carved a hollow in her son’s heart — stood before her, alive. Whole.

Her expression barely shifted. Years of royal training pressed her emotions into silence. “May I come in?” she asked evenly, her voice controlled, almost cold.

Hinata stepped aside without a word, clutching her hands together to stop them from shaking.

Mikoto entered slowly, her gaze sweeping the room. The house had barely changed. The same low beams, the same faded curtains, the faint scent of herbs. Yet there were small signs of life — a vase of fresh flowers, a child’s wooden practice sword propped near the door. Time had passed, but the house had kept its secrets.

Hinata’s heart pounded. Every instinct screamed to run, to hide. But she couldn’t — not now, not with the child growing within her.

Finally, Mikoto broke the silence.
“I must say, I’m surprised you’ve managed to stay alive all this time.”

Her tone was sharp — not cruel, but cutting in its disbelief. “For fifteen years, your ghost has haunted this palace… haunted him. My son never truly came back from your death.”

Hinata’s throat tightened. She wanted to speak, to explain, but the words wouldn’t come.

Mikoto arched a brow. “Do you plan to stay standing all morning?”

“S-sorry,” Hinata stammered, bowing slightly. “Would you… like some tea?”

Mikoto shook her head gently. “No. Sit down. We have much to discuss.”

Hinata obeyed, her fingers twisting in her lap.

Mikoto remained standing for a moment, watching her — the once-shy Hyuga girl who had somehow changed the course of her son’s life. Then she sat across from her, her posture regal but her eyes tired.

“I know everything,” Mikoto said at last. “About Aoshi.”

Hinata’s eyes widened. Her breath caught audibly, panic flickering across her face.

Mikoto lifted a hand calmly. “Do not fear. That child is my blood. I would never harm him.”

Hinata’s lips parted in confusion.

“My advisor saw Aoshi coming here last night,” Mikoto continued. “He described how the boy hugged a woman — you. At first, I thought it impossible. But Orochimaru’s words, his certainty… he may be many things, but he does not invent matters such as this.”

Silence stretched between them.

Mikoto studied Hinata’s face. “It all began to make sense,” she murmured. “Sasuke’s sudden absences, his softened eyes, that trace of joy he thought no one saw. I noticed — a mother always does. He found you again. He found… home.”

Tears pricked at Hinata’s lashes. “I never meant to cause him pain,” she whispered.

“Pain?” Mikoto gave a quiet, bitter laugh. “You’ve been his shadow for fifteen years. Tell me, Hinata — why hide? Why let him drown in grief all that time?”

Hinata’s voice trembled. “Because I thought it was the only way to protect our child. A lot had happened, and when I came back…” Her voice broke. “He was marrying Ino. I couldn’t take that from him.”

Mikoto’s expression softened — slightly, imperceptibly. “And yet here you are again.”

Hinata nodded faintly. “Fate… or maybe punishment. When Aoshi met him at the festival, I thought I could keep the truth buried. But Sasuke saw him. He knew.

She began to speak then, her words spilling out like a confession — about the river, the coma, the herbalist who had saved her, about giving birth alone in the woods. She told Mikoto everything — her fear, her shame, her love that never faded, and how fate had brought them back together in the most impossible way.

When she finished, silence filled the small room once more.

Mikoto’s face was unreadable. She sat back, eyes distant, weighing the pieces. And then, very quietly, she said, “You’re with child again.”

Hinata froze. Her hand instinctively went to her stomach.

“I see it,” Mikoto continued softly. “The way you hold yourself. The light in your eyes. You don’t need to deny it.”

Hinata hesitated, then lowered her head. “Yes. I am.”

For a long moment, Mikoto said nothing. Then she exhaled slowly, as though letting go of years of anger. “I won’t pretend I’m not… taken aback. But disappointed? No.” Her gaze drifted toward the window. “For fifteen years, Sasuke never gave Ino a chance. Not truly. I think, deep down, I always knew why.”

Her eyes returned to Hinata — sharp yet gentle. “You are the love of my son’s life. That much is clear. And if that is the case, then I have a duty — not just as Queen Mother, but as a grandmother.”

Hinata blinked in surprise.

“You will take care of yourself,” Mikoto said firmly. “And of the child you carry. The divorce has not yet been made public, and there will be… difficulties. But I will make sure the transition is as smooth as possible. For you. For Aoshi. And for the little one to come.”

Hinata’s eyes filled with tears. “Mikoto-sama, I—”

“Don’t thank me,” Mikoto interrupted, her tone softening. “I’m not doing this for you.” A faint smile ghosted her lips. “I’m doing it for Sasuke. For my grandchildren. And perhaps,” she paused, voice quieter, “for the woman I once was — the one who forgot how easily love can be broken by pride.”

For the first time, Hinata saw not the Queen — but the mother, the woman who had once loved fiercely and lost deeply.

Mikoto rose, pulling her cloak around her shoulders. “Make sure you rest. And if you need anything, you will send word to me directly. No more hiding.”

Hinata stood as well, bowing deeply. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Mikoto’s gaze lingered on her for a moment longer, something unspoken flickering in her eyes — understanding, forgiveness, maybe even admiration. Then she turned toward the door.

“Take care of him,” she said quietly. “Both of them.”

And with that, she left — her steps steady, her heart unsteady — knowing that the ghosts of the past had finally begun to breathe again.

---

The sun had just begun to rise over the eastern towers of the palace, spilling a soft gold across the marble floors of the council chamber. The faint scent of ink and parchment lingered — a smell that had long become part of Sasuke’s mornings.

He stood by the tall window, the early light drawing a sharp silhouette around him, his gaze distant yet focused. The plans spread across his desk were covered in notes, signatures, and a series of bold strokes marking changes in the kingdom’s administrative structure.

Fifteen years of reform — all built to heal the fractures left by old wars, all meant to restore the honor of the Hyuga clan — and still, Sasuke felt it wasn’t enough. Not after everything he’d learned. Not now that Hinata was alive, and carrying his child once more.

There was no more time to move slowly. He had to make things right — for her, for Aoshi, for all those who still carried the weight of old prejudice.

The door creaked open.

Ren entered with his usual composure — not as one of the captains of the royal guard, not as a soldier, but as a friend. His eyes flicked over the sea of documents before settling on Sasuke.

“You’ve been at it since before dawn again, haven’t you?” he said, half a sigh, half a smile.

Sasuke didn’t turn. “There’s work that cannot wait.”

Ren crossed his arms. “I’m starting to think you enjoy working yourself into exhaustion.”

“Not enjoyment,” Sasuke murmured. “Necessity.”

Ren’s gaze dropped to the papers — a list of new appointments and recommendations. “You’re promoting several Hyuga to high-level council positions.”

“I am.”

Ren raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been advocating for that for years, true — but you always said gradual integration was key. This…” He tapped the parchment lightly. “This is… accelerated.”

Sasuke finally looked at him, his face unreadable. “There’s no reason to delay progress that should’ve been achieved long ago.”

Ren tilted his head. “I agree in principle. It’s just that you’re moving with a kind of… urgency I haven’t seen from you in a long time.” His eyes softened. “Almost as if something’s changed.”

Sasuke didn’t answer, but the silence itself was an answer.

Ren chuckled quietly and shook his head. “You know, your poker face has improved, but not that much.”

Sasuke turned away, pretending to study the papers again. “If you have questions about my administrative policies, ask them. If you’re here to speculate, you’re wasting your morning.”

Ren smirked. “Fair enough. I’ll stay on topic — mostly.” He leaned against the desk, voice light but probing. “So, this urgency… does it have anything to do with a boy I met recently?”

That made Sasuke glance up — just barely, but enough.

Ren caught it. “A little over a week ago,” he continued, tone casual, “I had to lead at the training grounds and met this kid — Aoshi, I believe. Black eyes, good instincts. Reminded me of someone I know.”

Sasuke’s hand stilled on the desk, but he showed no other reaction. “That’s nothing rare Ren.”

“Yes, but not many who fight like you,”Ren said, a spark of amusement lighting his voice. “Same stance. Same temper when he misses a strike. Same annoying habit of pretending he’s not proud of himself when he wins.”

That almost earned a smile from Sasuke — almost.

Ren watched him closely. “Good boy. Humble. Sharp. You’ve taken him under your wing, haven’t you?”

“I’ve seen his potential,” Sasuke replied evenly. “It would’ve been wasteful not to.”

Ren grinned. “Ah, so that’s what we’re calling it. Potential.”

Sasuke shot him a faint look — one that would have silenced anyone else. Ren, however, only chuckled. “Relax, Your Majesty. I’m not prying. Just saying the boy’s remarkable. His swordplay reminded me of you — but his composure…”

He paused, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “…that reminded me of Hinata.”

The name landed like a quiet thunder in the air between them.

Sasuke’s breath hitched — imperceptibly. He lowered his gaze to the documents again, his expression neutral, but the pulse in his jaw gave him away.

Ren noticed. Of course he did. He had always been too perceptive for his own good.

He straightened, brushing invisible dust from his cloak. “You know, it’s funny,” he said, tone lighter again. “For years I thought I understood what drove you — duty, loss, redemption. But lately…” He looked toward the morning light streaming through the window. “Lately, you seem… alive again. Almost as if someone — or something — gave you back a piece of yourself.”

Sasuke didn’t respond. He didn’t need to.

Ren smiled faintly. “Whatever it is, I hope it stays. It suits you.”

He gathered the documents he’d brought, preparing to leave. “I’ll start coordinating the appointments, then. The Hyuga deserve this.”

As he reached the door, he turned back, that teasing glint returning to his eyes. “Oh — and if that boy Aoshi ever drops by again, tell him I still owe him a rematch. Maybe next time he won’t catch me off guard with that ridiculous spin-kick.”

Sasuke allowed himself the smallest of smirks — fleeting but genuine. “I’ll tell him.”

Ren gave a mock salute. “Good. He’s got fire in him. Feels… familiar.”

And with that, he was gone, leaving the chamber quiet again.

Sasuke remained where he was, the sunlight now warm against his face. For a moment, he let the faint smile linger.

Then he looked down at the parchment again — the ink still fresh, the signatures awaiting his seal — and whispered to no one,

“For them… this time, I won’t fail.”

---

The echo of Ren’s footsteps had barely faded when the door creaked open again.

Sasuke didn’t look up immediately; he knew that knock — too casual to be anyone else’s.

Naruto stepped inside, sunlight spilling across his cloak, his blond hair catching the morning glow. His expression was halfway between curiosity and suspicion, the usual look he wore whenever he knew something was going on that Sasuke hadn’t yet told him about.

“Well,” Naruto began, closing the door behind him, “you look like a man who’s been holding his breath since sunrise.”

Sasuke exhaled deeply, leaning back in his chair. “Something like that.”

Naruto crossed the room and took a seat across from him without waiting to be invited. “I saw Ren leaving. He looked… smug. Should I be worried?”

Sasuke allowed a small smirk. “No. Actually, things are going well. The council’s restructuring is underway — faster than expected. With Ren’s cooperation, the integration plan for the Hyuga is finally moving.”

Naruto’s brows rose. “Already? You’ve been talking about this reform for years.”

Sasuke nodded. “Yes. But now… it can’t wait any longer.”

Naruto studied him for a moment, then tilted his head. “You sound like a man racing against time.”

Sasuke didn’t respond at first. His eyes drifted toward the open window, where the morning wind stirred the curtains. When he finally spoke, his voice was lower — thoughtful.

“I think Ren knows.”

Naruto blinked. “Knows what?”

Sasuke’s gaze met his — sharp but calm. “About Aoshi. About… Hinata.”

For a heartbeat, silence hung heavy between them. Then Naruto leaned back, arms crossed, eyes narrowing. “And you’re sure?”

“Not completely,” Sasuke admitted. “But he’s too observant. The way he spoke about Aoshi — the resemblance, the tone… He knows something.”

Naruto frowned. “You think he’ll tell anyone?”

Sasuke shook his head. “No. Ren’s many things, but careless isn’t one of them. I’ve come to trust him — more than most.”

He paused, almost hesitant to admit it aloud. “He’s someone I’d trust with my life.”

Naruto’s expression softened. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You know, hearing you say that almost makes me emotional.”

Sasuke glanced at him with mild annoyance. “Don’t start.”

But Naruto wasn’t done. A mischievous grin tugged at his lips. “It’s just funny, you know? How far you two have come. I still remember the time you hated the idea of Ren being anywhere near Hinata.”

Sasuke groaned quietly. “Naruto—”

“No, no, no, don’t even try to deny it!” Naruto said, laughing now. “You got so jealous when another Hyuga showed up at the palace that you— what was it? Oh yeah — you didn’t even tell Hinata he was here!”

Sasuke covered his face with one hand. “I told you to never bring that up again.”

Naruto let out a short laugh. “You were absolutely ridiculous! I still remember how she found out — Ren walked straight into the office just minutes after you two had been all over each other. Lucky for me, I slipped out right before she figured out I already knew!”

Sasuke glared at him from behind his fingers. “You talk too much.”

Naruto grinned wider. “I talk just enough. Especially when it’s about the mighty King Sasuke being a jealous idiot.”

That earned a quiet chuckle — rare and genuine. Sasuke shook his head, the faintest smile tugging at his mouth. “You really never change, do you?”

“Wouldn’t be any fun if I did.” Naruto’s grin softened then, his tone lowering. “But seriously, Sasuke… I’m glad to see you like this.”

Sasuke raised an eyebrow. “Like what?”

“Alive,” Naruto said simply. “For years, you’ve been here — but not here. Whatever’s happening now — with Hinata, with Aoshi — it’s like you finally remembered what it feels like to live again.”

Sasuke didn’t answer, but his silence spoke volumes. The weight in his shoulders eased just slightly, and the small, grateful glance he gave Naruto was enough.

Naruto stood, clapping him on the shoulder as he passed. “Don’t screw it up this time, alright?”

Sasuke looked up at him, deadpan. “You’re still terrible at formal farewells.”

Naruto laughed, heading for the door. “Yeah, but you’d miss me if I wasn’t.”

As the door closed behind him, Sasuke exhaled again — slower this time. The sun was fully up now, bathing the room in light.

For the first time in years, that light didn’t feel harsh or lonely. It felt warm.

Naruto’s laughter lingered in the air long after he’d left the room.

Sasuke leaned back in his chair, allowing himself one last quiet exhale — a rare, fleeting moment of peace. The morning sun had climbed higher, pouring over the desk in ribbons of gold and warmth.

For the first time in years, he felt something close to balance — the reforms were moving, Ren was on board, and Naruto… well, Naruto was still Naruto.

He reached for the next set of documents, his mind already returning to the day’s duties, when the sound of hurried footsteps echoed down the corridor.

A knock — soft, deliberate — preceded the door swinging open.

Ino stepped in.

Sasuke froze for half a second, startled by her presence. She wasn’t wearing her usual elaborate court attire — only a pale gown, simple and unadorned, her expression calm but tired. There was a kind of resolution in her eyes that he hadn’t seen before.

“Ino,” he said carefully. “What brings you—”

“It’s done,” she interrupted, her tone even, controlled.

Sasuke blinked. “What do you mean?”

“I spoke with your mother,” she said, taking a slow step inside. “Mikoto knows everything. About the divorce.”

The words hung in the air like the toll of a bell.

Sasuke straightened in his chair, his fingers tightening slightly on the armrest. “You… told her?”

Ino nodded once. “She deserved to hear it from me , and you deserved to stop hiding.”

Sasuke’s jaw tensed. “Ino—”

“I know why, Sasuke,” she said quietly, cutting him off before he could speak. “I know why you left. Why it all ended so suddenly. You don’t have to explain.”

He looked at her then — truly looked. Despite everything, there was no bitterness in her eyes, only a quiet sadness, the kind that comes when love finally fades into understanding.

That’s when it hit him. She said she knew, which meant that…

“Ino…” he started, but before he could finish, another voice filled the doorway.

“Good morning,” said Mikoto.

The room shifted instantly. Even Naruto, who had been halfway down the corridor, turned and re-entered, sensing the change in atmosphere. The Queen Mother’s presence carried the weight of the palace itself — calm, dignified, and absolute.

She stepped inside, the morning light glinting off the silver threads in her hair. Her gaze swept over the three of them — her son behind the desk, Ino standing still as a statue, and Naruto frozen near the door.

“So,” Mikoto said softly, her voice smooth as glass, “it seems the last of the secrets have finally found their way to daylight.”

No one spoke.

Then, with the faintest sigh, she turned toward Naruto and Ino. “Leave us.”

Naruto hesitated. “Mikoto-sama—”

“That’s an order, Naruto,” she said gently, but the authority beneath her tone was unmistakable. “I need to speak to my son alone.”

Naruto glanced at Sasuke — his eyes asking if he should stay — but Sasuke gave a small nod. “It’s alright.”

Naruto pressed his lips together, then inclined his head respectfully and stepped out.

Ino lingered for a heartbeat longer, her gaze flicking between mother and son. “Whatever happens,” she murmured softly to Mikoto, “please… let’s end it the best way possible.”

Mikoto’s expression softened almost imperceptibly. “is the least he deserves — and the one thing I intend to offer.”

With that, Ino turned and left, closing the door behind her.

The silence that followed was dense — heavy with years of unspoken truths.

Mikoto walked forward slowly, her footsteps echoing in the vastness of the chamber, until she stood directly before Sasuke’s desk.

Sasuke rose to his feet, every muscle in his body coiled, his heart hammering even though his face betrayed nothing.

“Mother,” he began, voice low, steady. “I…—”

“I know,” she interrupted softly. “You always were going to tell me. Eventually.”

The words weren’t cruel — but they weren’t forgiving, either.

For the first time in years, the King and his mother stood face to face, not as ruler and subject, but as two people bound by love, guilt, and the weight of all that had been hidden.

Mikoto folded her hands in front of her, the faintest glimmer of sorrow flickering in her eyes. “We need to talk about Hinata,” she said quietly.

Sasuke’s breath caught.

The morning sun flooded the room, warm and merciless — a silent witness to what was about to unfold.

---

Chapter Text

The silence that followed after Ino and Naruto’s departure was heavy — almost suffocating.
Sunlight streamed through the tall windows of the royal office, gilding the room in gold. Dust motes danced lazily in the light, fragile things between two unspoken storms.

Mikoto stood near the desk, regal and composed as ever, though the faint tremor in her fingers betrayed the storm beneath her calm exterior. Sasuke watched her carefully — his mother, the woman who had raised him with iron and fire, standing before him now not as a queen, but as something more fragile.

“I saw them,” she said finally. Her voice, though even, carried the weight of years. “Hinata… and Aoshi.”

Sasuke’s breath caught, the name leaving him momentarily frozen. “You… saw them?”

Mikoto nodded. “Yes. At the training grounds.” A faint, faraway look crossed her face. “He’s so much like you, Sasuke. The same quiet strength, the same look in his eyes when he focuses. And yet…” — she smiled sadly — “there’s something of her too. That gentleness you always admired but never thought you deserved.”

Sasuke turned away, his jaw tightening. “You shouldn’t have gone to see them.”

“And yet,” she said softly, “I’m glad I did.”

The air shifted.

“I won’t lie, Sasuke,” Mikoto continued. “It saddened me to learn that you divorced Ino… and that it has been some time since then. Saddened that you never felt you could tell me.”

He looked up, caught off guard by the quiet hurt in her voice.

“But,” she went on, “I don’t blame you. Not anymore.”

That, more than anything, stunned him.

“For years, I’ve placed too much weight on your shoulders,” Mikoto said, her tone fragile but unwavering. “I shaped you into a ruler before you were ever allowed to be a son. I demanded strength when what you needed was understanding. I told myself it was for the empire’s sake — for stability — but in truth, it was my own pride that blinded me.”

Sasuke said nothing. He couldn’t.

“I built walls between us,” she whispered, “and then wondered why I could no longer reach you.”

Her words hit him harder than he expected — but years of discipline kept his posture rigid.

Then, his tone hardened. “Mother, whatever guilt you’re carrying — don’t you dare direct it toward them. If I ever find out you’ve harmed Hinata or Aoshi in any way — if you’ve even thought of it — I will not forgive it. Not even from you.”

Mikoto blinked, startled by his sudden fierceness — then slowly, a small, weary smile crossed her face. “There it is,” she murmured. “The fire I raised you with — but now, finally, for something that matters.”

She stepped closer, her gaze softening. “You see me as an enemy now,” she said quietly. “I understand. You’re a man with something to protect — a family. And I…” she sighed, “I made it too easy for you to forget that I once wanted the same for you.”

The silence between them stretched — painful, raw, honest.

Then Mikoto spoke again, her voice breaking the stillness like a quiet confession.
“I’m sorry, Sasuke. For everything. For not being the mother you needed. For forcing you into a marriage you never wanted. For mistaking duty for care. I thought I was saving you from heartbreak, not realizing you were already broken — mourning a woman everyone thought was gone.”

Sasuke’s throat tightened. Hearing those words — her words — felt almost unreal. His mother, who had never once admitted fault, was now standing before him stripped of her armor.

“I did it all in the name of alliances and power,” Mikoto continued, eyes shimmering faintly, “but all I succeeded in doing was pushing you further away.”

He looked at her for a long moment, speechless. The years between them — the distance, the silence, the mutual disappointment — all seemed to hang in the space of a heartbeat.

Then Mikoto exhaled and changed tone slightly, a faint light in her eyes. “When I saw Aoshi… I saw you again. And I saw her. The balance of both. It’s strange, Sasuke — I had almost forgotten what your smile looked like until I saw it mirrored in that boy.”

Sasuke lowered his gaze, unable to suppress the faint upward pull at the corner of his lips.

“I spoke with Hinata,” Mikoto said softly. “And yes — I saw it too. The way she admires you even now. The peace in her eyes when she speaks your name. She told me everything. About her fall into the river, her rescue, her fear. About the years she spent hiding, and why.”

Sasuke closed his eyes. “And what did you say to her?”

“I told her,” Mikoto said simply, “that I understand now. That she is the one meant for you. I fought it for years, because I thought it would make you weak. But it didn’t. It made you human. And since your return from the festival, I’ve seen it — the change in you. The quiet joy I thought had long died.”

There was a long silence before she added, in a softer tone, “And she’s pregnant, isn’t she?”

Sasuke’s head snapped up, his eyes wide.

“Don’t bother denying it,” Mikoto said, almost fondly. “A mother knows these things.”

He hesitated — then exhaled. “Yes. She is.”

Mikoto nodded, as though confirming something she already knew. “Then we have no time to waste.”

Sasuke frowned slightly. “What do you mean?”

She took a slow step forward. “You asked what I plan to do with all of this,” she said. “The answer is simple — what I should have done years ago.”

Her voice grew firmer, steadier. “I can’t undo the past, Sasuke. I can’t repair every wound I caused between us. But I can protect what comes next. My grandchildren — your family — they will not suffer for our mistakes.”

Sasuke stared at her, caught between disbelief and awe.

“I know this isn’t just about you and Hinata,” Mikoto continued. “It’s about the Hyuga — about their place in this kingdom. About change. About the kind of legacy you’ll leave behind.”

He nodded slowly, his voice low. “I’ve already started. Ren’s helping me accelerate the reforms — more Hyuga in positions of authority, recognition, respect. The night Hinata told me about the baby, I called a secret meeting with two councilors. We’re planning how to make the divorce public — quietly, cleanly. Without scandal.”

Mikoto listened intently, her expression unreadable. Then, after a long pause, she said softly, “Then you have my support. Whatever power I have left in this court, I’ll use it for you — and for them. I won’t make the same mistake twice.”

Something broke open in Sasuke’s chest — something old, long buried. He looked at her, and for the first time in years, he didn’t see a queen or an adversary. He saw his mother.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, the words heavier than they sounded.

Mikoto’s composure faltered just slightly. She reached out, hesitating for only a heartbeat, and then placed a trembling hand on his cheek. “You’ve grown into a man I barely recognize, Sasuke,” she whispered. “But I’ve never been prouder.”

For the first time in over a decade, Sasuke stepped forward and embraced her.

It wasn’t the embrace of royalty, or politics, or duty — it was that of a son and a mother who had finally, painfully, found their way back to each other.

And as the morning sun spilled through the windows, washing the room in light, the past at last began to loosen its hold.

---

When the office doors finally closed behind Mikoto, Sasuke stood still for a long time.
The warmth of her embrace lingered faintly on his shoulders, alien and comforting all at once. The morning sun had climbed higher, painting the office with amber light, and yet his mind was miles away — tracing the path from where everything had begun to where it was now inevitably leading.

For years, he had carried his mother’s shadow — her expectations, her distance, her disappointment. But this morning had shifted something inside him. For the first time, the weight didn’t feel suffocating; it felt shared.

Still, doubt gnawed at him.

Mikoto’s words echoed in his mind: “ I told her I understand now. I know she is the one meant for you.”

It had sounded genuine — too genuine. But the thought of Hinata, fragile and pregnant, alone and perhaps frightened after the Queen’s sudden visit… that unsettled him. His mother had changed before his eyes, but could years of coldness be undone in a single conversation?

He needed to see Hinata.

Not as a king. Not even as a partner. But as a man — the man who had promised to protect her, no matter what crown he wore.

---

The morning air was crisp and quiet, heavy with the scent of damp grass and distant river water. Sasuke walked the familiar path that led to the small cabin, his mind still replaying every word of his mother’s confession.

It was strange — hearing Mikoto speak with warmth after years of cold restraint.
Her voice had carried something he hadn’t expected: regret.

And forgiveness.

He paused for a moment, he let the silence wrap around him. Mother knows. Hinata’s safe. Aoshi… our son.

The thought stirred something fierce and fragile inside him — pride, guilt, and a tenderness he couldn’t name.

But under it all, there was a quiet, gnawing worry. Hinata was barely six weeks along. It was still so early — too early for certainty, yet enough to feel the shift in everything. He needed to see her. To make sure.

The soft crunch of his boots against the soil marked the rhythm of his thoughts as he approached the cabin. When he reached it, laughter floated out from within — gentle, fleeting.

Through the half-open door, he saw Shiro, the now nearly retired herbalist , finishing a routine check. Hinata sat by the hearth, the firelight touching her face.

“Well, everything looks perfect,” Shiro said kindly, closing his satchel. “You’re strong, Hinata-san. Just keep resting and avoid overexertion.”

She smiled softly. “Thank you, Shiro-sensei.”

As he turned, he noticed Sasuke in the doorway and bowed deeply. “Your Majesty.”

Sasuke inclined his head. “You’ve done well. Thank you.”

Once the physician departed, Hinata rose slowly, brushing her palms over her light blue kimono. “You came early,” she said, her voice calm but carrying an edge of curiosity.

“I couldn’t stay away,” he admitted. His gaze swept her features, stopping briefly on her stomach — though there was no visible sign yet. “I needed to see you.”

Hinata tilted her head. “Is something wrong?”

He hesitated. “My mother came here.”

Hinata froze. Her hand trembled slightly before she clasped it over her sleeve. “You know?”

He nodded. “She told me. About your talk, about Aoshi. About everything.”

Hinata exhaled slowly, tension leaving her shoulders. “I thought you’d be angry.”

“I was worried,” he said honestly. “She’s not always gentle with the people she doesn’t understand.”

Hinata shook her head faintly. “She didn’t harm me, Sasuke. Quite the opposite, actually. I think… she’s trying.”

Sasuke blinked, almost disbelieving. “She told me as much. And she noticed—”

Hinata placed a hand lightly over her abdomen. “Yes. She did.”

His chest tightened. For a moment, words failed him. He stepped closer, his fingers brushing hers.

“She told me you looked radiant,” he murmured.

A faint blush colored Hinata’s cheeks. “That’s generous of her.”

“Not generous,” Sasuke said, voice quiet. “True.”

For a moment, they stood in silence, the air between them filled with everything they couldn’t yet say — the fear, the hope, the impossibility of their situation.

The space between them pulsed with the kind of silence that only years of longing could create. Sasuke reached out, his fingers brushing against her cheek as though to make sure she was real. Hinata leaned into his touch, her breath catching, and when their lips met, it was slow and deep — not urgent, but filled with everything they hadn’t said in years. It was a greeting, a promise, and a confession all at once. I’ve missed you. I’ve found you. I’m not letting go again. When they finally drew apart, foreheads still resting together, Sasuke whispered softly, almost like a sigh, “ I got you.”

Finally, Sasuke spoke again. “I’ll be meeting with the council this afternoon. The reforms — the Hyuga appointments — they’ll go into effect by the end of the month. No more hesitation.”

Hinata looked up at him, surprise flickering in her eyes. “You’re certain?”

“I can’t afford not to be,” he said. “You’re six weeks along, Hinata. The moment your condition becomes visible, rumors will start. I need the kingdom ready to see the Hyuga with honor before they see the queen carrying my child.”

Her lips parted slightly at his words — not from fear, but from how fiercely he said my child.

She touched his arm lightly. “We’ll face it together.”

Sasuke allowed himself a rare, soft smile. “We already are.”

He leaned down, pressing a brief, lingering kiss to her forehead. “Rest. I’ll come back after the meeting.”

And then he left, his figure vanishing into the bright morning light — leaving behind warmth and a quiet, unspoken promise.

---

By mid-afternoon, the palace was alive with motion. Courtiers moved briskly through the marble halls, the murmur of speculation trailing behind the King’s latest decrees.

Inside the grand council chamber, sunlight filtered through stained-glass windows, painting patterns across the obsidian table where the kingdom’s most powerful voices gathered.

Sasuke entered in silence, every step measured. At his right stood Ren, already reviewing the latest scrolls.

The chamber quieted as he took his seat.

“Let’s begin,” Sasuke said simply.

The early agenda passed quickly — trade routes, taxation, border patrols. But when Sasuke finally raised his hand, the air shifted.

“There is another matter,” he said. “For fifteen years, this council has spoken of unity but practiced exclusion. The Hyuga have served the crown loyally, yet remain confined to secondary posts. That ends today.”

The room stiffened.

One of the elder ministers frowned. “Your Majesty, such an abrupt change could unsettle the other clans—”

“Then they’ll adapt,” Sasuke interrupted coolly. “From this day forward, appointments will be made on merit, not bloodline. Three Hyuga will join the Academy Council, two will be placed in the Military Advisory Board, and one will oversee the Border Division. Effective immediately.”

The silence that followed was thick.

Ren leaned forward, voice smooth but resolute. “It’s long overdue. The King’s decision reflects the empire’s future, not its past.”

Murmurs rippled around the room — some in approval, others in barely contained resistance.

Sasuke’s gaze cut through the chamber. “This is not a suggestion. It’s an order.”

That ended the debate.

When the meeting adjourned, Ren lingered behind, closing the last of the scrolls. “You’ve changed, Sasuke,” he said lightly. “There’s a fire in you I haven’t seen in years.”

Sasuke smirked faintly. “Fire’s only dangerous if you let it burn uncontrolled.”

Ren chuckled. “Or if it’s protecting something you’d die for.”

Sasuke’s expression remained unreadable, but Ren caught the flicker in his eyes — the silent truth beneath the king’s composure.

As he reached the door, Ren added casually, “I saw the boy again — Aoshi. He’s got your focus, your stance. But his smile…” He smiled knowingly. “It’s Hinata’s.”

Sasuke froze — only for a second — but Ren had already left.

Alone now, Sasuke stood at the head of the empty chamber, staring at the place where light met shadow on the polished floor.

Six weeks.

He pressed his hand briefly over his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

So much depended on the days to come — the council’s cooperation, the secrecy around Hinata’s condition, the safety of their children, the fragile trust that had finally been rebuilt with his mother.

And yet, for the first time in years, he felt steady.

Because now, every decision had purpose. Every step had meaning.

He turned toward the window where the late sun poured across the capital, and in a quiet voice, barely above a whisper, he said to himself:

“I’ll make this right. For her. For them. For all of us.”

--

Chapter Text

The amber light of the setting sun spilled softly through the tall windows of Sasuke’s office, stretching long shadows across the polished floor. The day had been heavy — the council meeting, Mikoto’s revelation, the quiet storm building beneath the calm of duty — and yet the stillness that followed felt heavier still.

A soft knock came at the door.

“Come in,” Sasuke said, his voice low.

Ino stepped inside. She had discarded her formal crown and wore a simple gown of pale lilac, her hair loosely tied back. There was something serene in her demeanor — fragile, but peaceful.

“I thought I’d find you here,” she said quietly.

Sasuke offered a faint nod. “I was preparing notes. I intended to summon you—”

“For the formalities?” she finished gently. “Don’t worry, I know how these things work.”

He looked at her for a long moment — the composure, the quiet steadiness in her eyes — and felt a flicker of guilt twist inside him.

“You’ve been through a lot these past weeks,” he said softly.

She smiled faintly, the kind of smile that carried both exhaustion and acceptance. “I have. But strangely, I feel lighter than I have in years.”

Sasuke tilted his head slightly, studying her.

“You know,” she continued, walking toward the window, “I used to imagine this moment — the day we’d stand here, divided not by walls of silence but by truth. And I thought I’d feel anger, or loss, or humiliation. But now that it’s here… I don’t feel any of those things.”

He said nothing, but his gaze softened.

“I suppose,” she added with a small sigh, “this is what peace feels like.”

Sasuke took a slow breath. “You were always stronger than people gave you credit for.”

That earned a quiet chuckle. “Including you,” she teased, glancing at him over her shoulder.

He almost smiled. Almost.

Then the air between them shifted — gentler, sadder.

“Ino,” he began, his tone heavy but sincere, “I owe you an apology.”

She turned, brows lifting slightly in surprise.

“For what?”

“For everything,” he said. “For the silence. For the distance. You didn’t deserve years of uncertainty. And regardless of what you might have thought, I never hated you. Not once.”

Her breath caught.

“I know our marriage was one born of circumstance,” he continued quietly, “but you carried yourself with grace through every burden placed on you — even mine. If I could change things, I would have spared you those years of loneliness and expectation. I would have found a way to make it easier.”

He hesitated, then stepped closer, lowering his voice. “For what it’s worth, I’m grateful — for everything you did for the kingdom, and for me. I truly wish you the best, Ino. You deserve peace, and happiness, in whatever form it takes.”

For a long moment, she didn’t answer. Then, slowly, a soft, trembling smile touched her lips.

“That,” she whispered, “is the kindest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Sasuke’s gaze met hers — steady, open, honest.

“And it’s the truth,” he replied simply.

She nodded, her eyes glistening, though her composure never broke. “I know it is.”

Taking a deep breath, she said, “I don’t hate you, Sasuke. I never really could. Maybe I was bitter for a while — about what we were, about what we weren’t — but not hateful. I chose this marriage too. I came into it willingly, with the hope that maybe time would change things. But even if it didn’t, I never regretted trying.”

He gave a small nod, the faintest hint of relief passing through his expression.

“If there’s one thing I’ll always admire about you,” she went on, “it’s your sense of purpose. You took a kingdom that was divided by bloodlines and pride and started to mend it — not just with laws, but with compassion. You gave people a reason to believe that they could love across ranks, across boundaries. That they could matter. And because of that… I can start over too. As myself.”

Her tone softened, wistful. “You gave me that freedom, even without meaning to.”

Sasuke’s throat tightened, but he said nothing — just watched as she looked out toward the balcony, where the wind carried faint sounds of the city.

“I know my father will be furious when the divorce is made public,” she admitted. “He’ll rage about alliances and honor and legacy — but I’ll handle him. I’ll make him understand.”

Then her gaze shifted back to him, clearer now. “And I also know about Hinata.”

He froze.

She raised a hand before he could speak. “Don’t look so alarmed. It makes sense considering how much you’ve changed after that festival — you had a light in your eyes I hadn’t seen in years. And I know there’s a child — your child — and another on the way, your mother told me.”

Sasuke’s composure faltered slightly, surprise flashing in his dark eyes.

Ino smiled faintly, shaking her head. “You forget I was raised among whispers. I can read truths between words better than anyone.”

There was no venom in her tone — only quiet resignation.

“I won’t lie,” she continued softly, “there’s still a part of me that hurts. But I’m glad she’s alive, Sasuke. Truly. Because she’s the reason you’re alive too — not just breathing, but living. She brought you back to yourself. And maybe one day, when the wounds have all healed, we can look at each other and know it was all for something.”

She took a step back, her hand resting lightly on the doorknob.

“Take care of her. Of your son. Of the life you’re building. And this time,” her eyes softened, “don’t let fear or duty take it away.”

Sasuke bowed his head slightly — an unspoken promise.

“Thank you, Ino,” he said, voice quiet but weighted with sincerity.

She smiled, radiant even through the melancholy. “Don’t thank me. Just keep that light I saw in your eyes — the one she gave you. It suits you more than any crown ever did.”

Then she turned, her lavender cloak brushing against the floor as she stepped toward the fading light.

At the doorway, she paused once more. “Oh, and Sasuke?”

He looked up.

“Tell Hinata that despite everything that I am sorry, and that I’m glad she came back. The world’s better with her in it.”

And with that, she left — her footsteps echoing softly down the corridor, fading into silence.

Sasuke stood motionless for a long time, his heart heavy and yet, for the first time in years, free.
The air felt different — lighter.
He closed his eyes, exhaling slowly, and thought to himself:
perhaps endings weren’t always losses.
Sometimes, they were the quiet beginnings of peace.

---

The night had draped the palace in silence. Moonlight streamed through the arched windows of the council chamber, illuminating the long marble table where Queen Mikoto sat, a cup of untouched tea cooling at her side. The room was dim, the only light flickering from the candelabra that cast her sharp silhouette against the wall — a woman who had spent a lifetime commanding kingdoms, yet tonight looked more like a mother caught between worlds.

Across from her, half-shrouded in shadow, Orochimaru watched her with that unreadable half-smile of his. His pale fingers tapped lightly on the polished table.

“It’s been an eventful day,” he said finally, his voice smooth and serpentine. “But I ensured it remained private”.
Mikoto kept her gaze on the moonlit garden outside — the very ground where Sasuke had trained as a boy. “As I suspected,” she murmured. “The palace walls have always been talkative.”

Orochimaru’s smile widened a fraction. “Indeed. Though I admit, I’m curious.” He leaned forward, his golden eyes glinting with intrigue. “What is your next move, Your Majesty? Now that you’ve confirmed what most wouldn’t dare to imagine — that the long-lost Hyuga lives, and that she bore your son a child?”

Mikoto slowly turned to face him, her gaze calm but commanding. “What I should have done years ago, stand by my child’s side,” she said simply.

That answer — soft but resolute — made even Orochimaru pause.

He tilted his head, studying her like a specimen that had suddenly evolved. “How… unexpected.”

“Unexpected?” she echoed, one brow rising.

He smiled faintly, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “You’ve built your legacy on precision and restraint. You never acted without advantage, never risked your position for sentiment. And yet now you speak of helping your son as though emotion were suddenly a virtue.”

Mikoto’s expression didn’t falter. “Perhaps it is,” she said quietly. “Or perhaps I’ve simply realized that power without compassion is just another form of weakness.”

Orochimaru’s fingers stilled. “How sentimental of you.”

“Call it what you will,” she replied evenly. “But I’ve spent too many years treating my son like a pawn on the board. I forgot he was human. I forgot I was his mother.”

The words carried a softness that unsettled him — not because of their vulnerability, but because they came from her.

He sat back, his smile thinning. “I see. And what role do you expect me to play in this newfound benevolence?”

Mikoto’s eyes flicked toward him, sharp as ever. “The same role you always have — the advisor who observes, calculates, and ensures that what must be done is done. But hear me well, Orochimaru — there are matters now that will remain beyond your reach.”

A faint chill slipped into the air.

He tilted his head. “Such as?”

She didn’t answer immediately. Her gaze drifted to the candelabra flame, its reflection flickering in her eyes. When she spoke, her tone was calm — too calm.

“You are clever, Orochimaru. You already know more than you admit. But you will not speak of what you’ve learned,not yet.”

His thin smile returned. “You’re hiding something.”

Mikoto met his gaze unflinchingly. “I’m protecting something.”

The distinction lingered between them like smoke.

He studied her closely, his expression unreadable — calculating. “I can only assume your protection extends to more than the boy, then.”

Mikoto’s silence was answer enough.

Orochimaru’s mind whirred behind his calm facade. He’d seen her distant before, even ruthless — but this was different. There was warmth now, purpose that didn’t stem from strategy. Something had changed her, reshaped her sharp edges into something he couldn’t quite predict. And that made her dangerous.

After a long moment, he spoke again — voice lower, more deliberate. “You’re aware, of course, that supporting Sasuke now — with a secret child, a divorce still unannounced, and a scandal that could fracture half the court — will risk not only your reputation but the entire Uchiha legacy.”

Mikoto didn’t flinch. “My legacy is my son,” she said. “And my grandchild. The rest is smoke and titles.”

He arched a brow. “A very un-Mikoto thing to say.”

She allowed herself a faint smile. “Perhaps. But you’ll find that motherhood has a strange way of reshaping one’s priorities — even after all these years.”

The candlestick’s flame flickered between them, its light catching on Orochimaru’s sharp grin. “So it’s true, then,” he murmured. “The Queen has softened.”

Mikoto leaned forward, her gaze like steel. “No, Orochimaru. I’ve changed. There’s a difference.”

For the first time that night, he was the one left momentarily speechless. He saw it then — the subtle light behind her composure, the quiet defiance of a woman who had stopped calculating and started feeling.

After a moment, he laughed softly, shaking his head. “I’ll admit, Your Majesty, I never thought I’d see the day.”

She rose gracefully, smoothing her robes. “Then consider tonight a new era. For my son. For the Hyuga. For this kingdom.”

Orochimaru’s gaze followed her as she moved toward the door. He called after her, voice smooth but edged with curiosity. “And for you?”

Mikoto paused, her hand on the doorframe. The moonlight caught in her dark hair as she glanced back over her shoulder.

“For me?” she echoed softly. “It’s simply… redemption.”

And with that, she left — her footsteps fading into the corridor, leaving Orochimaru alone in the dim chamber, the candlelight dancing across his contemplative expression.

He leaned back in his chair, one hand tapping thoughtfully against his chin, a quiet smirk tugging at his lips.

“Redemption,” he murmured to himself. “Or rebellion wrapped in sentiment. Either way… this kingdom just became far more interesting.”

---

Chapter Text

The palace gardens were quiet in the late afternoon sun, the air filled with the soft rustle of leaves and distant laughter of courtiers strolling along the cobbled paths. Sasuke walked beside Ren, who had been visiting the castle more frequently now — a trusted ally and a bridge between his past life and the Hyuga future he was shaping.

Ren’s sharp eyes scanned the surroundings before they arrived at the small house where Hinata had been staying. Sasuke’s steps slowed, and he allowed himself a moment to breathe. He had orchestrated so much in the past weeks — the Hyuga appointments, consultations with the royal counselors, and the delicate preparation for the public divorce. Yet now, here, the world could fall away.

Hinata opened the door before they reached it fully, a warm, tentative smile lighting her face. Her hands rested lightly over her still flat abdomen — barely noticeable, yet profoundly significant.

“Sasuke,” she whispered, almost reverently.

“Hello,” he replied, the weight of everything he’d planned and feared falling away at the sight of her. He stepped closer, leaving a soft kiss on her forehead as a greeting, and then straightened with a small, reassuring smile.

Ren spoke next, voice gentle but earnest. “It’s… good to see you, Lady Hinata. Truly. You’ve endured so much, and it’s… well, it’s impossible not to be glad you’re here.”

Hinata’s eyes softened, a mixture of gratitude and disbelief flickering across her face. “I… I’m just glad to be back. It’s strange, almost surreal. My life in the woods, the cabin… it was quiet, safe in its own way. But I never imagined I’d see this again. Or him.” She glanced at Sasuke, then at Ren. “I’m… thankful.”

Ren nodded, a faint smile crossing his features. “A soul like yours deserves the best the world can offer. And… I can see it, Sasuke. You’re happier now. You’re… whole again.”

Sasuke’s lips twitched into the faintest smirk, though he said nothing. It was Ren’s way of bridging the past and the present, of acknowledging the subtle miracles of circumstance — a life lost and returned, a family quietly reassembling.

---

The next day, Sasuke set out with Ino and Shikamaru to accompany her back home, after everything, is the least she deserved, a short but significant journey. Her father met them with stern eyes, vexed by the news of the divorce and insulted by what he perceived as a slight against his daughter.

Sasuke spoke privately with him, carefully explaining the context — the political nature of the marriage, Hinata’s survival, the child she had carried, and the delicate steps that had been taken to protect everyone’s honor.

Ino’s father’s sternness softened only slightly, tempered by respect for Sasuke’s honesty and the clear welfare of his daughter. Shikamaru remained beside Ino, offering quiet smiles and reassurance, letting her know that even in uncertainty, she had support.

By the end of the week, the visit had concluded. While some wounds would take time to fully heal, the path forward was clear: careful steps, patience, and the promise of a new beginning.

---

Upon returning, Sasuke immediately resumed his visits to Hinata. Mornings, afternoons, and evenings alike, he checked on her, ensuring she was well cared for and kept informed of the political developments. Their conversations were quiet but filled with laughter, memories, and small reassurances.

One evening, as the sun dipped low and the first lanterns flickered on in the cabin’s garden, Sasuke and Hinata decided it was time to tell Aoshi.

The young boy, barely adjusting to the understanding that the king was his father, had grown perceptive. Sasuke sat beside him, taking a deep breath.

“Aoshi,” he said gently, “we have something to share with you.”

Hinata’s hand rested lightly on Sasuke’s arm, grounding him, as she added softly, “You’re going to have a sibling. We’re expecting another child.”

Aoshi’s eyes widened, surprise giving way to a bright, delighted grin. “Really? Another baby?”

Sasuke nodded, smiling. “Yes. And we’ll make sure everyone takes care of you both.”

The boy wrapped his arms around Sasuke’s neck in a tight hug, his excitement spilling over. “I’ll help too, I promise.

Hinata laughed softly, her hand resting over her stomach. “We know you will, Aoshi. You’ve already been our greatest helper.”

Later, Naruto joined them, drawn by the warmth of the evening and the news he had sensed from afar. The four of them sat together quietly, sharing stories, smiles, and laughter under the soft glow of lantern light — a small, perfect family reunited at last.

Sasuke looked at Hinata and Aoshi, and then at Naruto, and for the first time in years, he felt that every decision he had made — every risk, every sacrifice — had led to this moment. Peace, happiness, and the fragile, hopeful beginnings of tomorrow.

---

Later that week, Sasuke sat in his study with Naruto and a small cadre of royal counselors, maps and dossiers spread across the desk. They were discussing the final measures and consequences of the upcoming public divorce.

“Two days from now,” Sasuke said, tracing a line across a map of the empire, “we make it official. The announcement must be clear: the marriage was political, and nothing personal remains between Ino and me. The kingdom must see stability.”

Naruto nodded, leaning back in his chair. “And the Hyuga appointments? They’ve already started, right?”

“Yes,” Sasuke confirmed. “Ren and I ensured that the positions are filled. The public will notice, yes, but the perception will be favorable — the Hyuga are now seen as equals. Their contributions, long overlooked, will finally be recognized. It’s a necessary step before the divorce is announced.”

The counselors murmured their agreement. Though some hesitated privately, they had seen Sasuke’s methods, his foresight, and his steady hand over the years. They trusted him — more than the marriage, more than gossip — and that trust was critical.

---

That evening, as the lanterns flickered softly around the garden, casting a warm, golden glow over the small cabin, Sasuke and Hinata sat side by side on the bench, Aoshi sat near them. The boy was still trying to adjust this new dynamic, but his eager to see where life took him with his newly discovered family. His happiness had finally settled into a gentle curiosity, and his eyes darted between his parents with a mixture of wonder and pride.

Sasuke glanced at Hinata, seeing her serene, radiant smile illuminated by the lantern light. He felt a swell of gratitude — for her survival, for the life they had rebuilt, for the family slowly coming together.

Without a word, he reached out, cupping her face gently in his hands. Hinata leaned into him, her eyes closing briefly as a small shiver of happiness passed through her. Their lips met in a soft, lingering kiss — a quiet greeting, a reassurance, and a promise all at once. It wasn’t the urgency of passion, but the deep, steady warmth of shared history and mutual trust.

Aoshi’s eyes widened slightly, and he whispered, “You two are really happy together.”

Sasuke chuckled softly, pulling back just enough to smile at their son. “We are,” he said, voice low and calm, “and it’s because we have each other — all of us.”

Hinata rested her head briefly against his shoulder, fingers brushing over her abdomen. “And soon, we’ll be four,” she murmured, a soft laugh escaping her lips.

Sasuke pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head. “Yes,” he said quietly, “four. And we’ll face it together, every step of the way.”

Hinata shifted slightly on the bench, her hands resting gently on her abdomen. “Sasuke,” she began softly, her gaze on the lantern-lit garden, “I’ve been thinking… now that I’m pregnant, I’d like Tsunade to be by my side. I know how attached she is to her cabin, but she was there when I was carrying Aoshi. I want her guidance, her presence, for our next child as well.” Sasuke’s hand found hers, squeezing gently. “I’ll take care of it,” he said firmly, his voice steady and unwavering. “I promise you — she’ll be here, and you won’t be alone.”

The moment stretched on, simple and perfect — the world outside fading to insignificance. Lantern light, the whisper of wind through leaves, the small warmth of a family slowly finding itself again. And for Sasuke, in that quiet evening, the weight of the empire, the pain of the past, and the fears of tomorrow all melted away — leaving only the soft, undeniable truth of home, love, and the life they were building together.

---

Chapter Text

The morning sun bathed the palace courtyard in a soft gold, illuminating the gathered nobles, courtiers, and diplomats from across the empire. Banners rippled in the breeze, and the low murmur of speculation filled the air, a subtle tension threading through the assembly. Today, the king would speak not of policy, not of battles won, but of a personal truth — a dissolution that had long been whispered about but never confirmed.

Inside the main hall, Sasuke stood at the center of the dais, his posture flawless, the weight of the empire and his personal stakes resting squarely on his shoulders. Beside him were Ren, Naruto, and a handful of trusted royal counselors, their composure a quiet signal that the empire stood unified in support.

From her place at the side gallery, Queen Mikoto observed silently, her hands folded in front of her, her expression unreadable. She had seen the man her son had become — the father, the king, the protector — and she knew the impact of this moment would ripple far beyond the walls of the hall.

Sasuke cleared his throat, voice steady, deliberate. “Esteemed members of the court, nobles, and citizens of the empire: I stand before you today to address a matter of personal significance, which also bears consequence for the governance and integrity of our realm.”

A hush fell. Even the courtiers closest to the king, the ones who had long speculated about his personal life, felt the weight of his words.

“I hereby announce that my marriage to Queen Ino has been formally dissolved,” he continued, each word precise, carrying both authority and clarity. “This decision, though difficult, was finalised with mutual understanding. While our marriage was founded to strengthen political alliances, it became clear that personal harmony was never attainable between us. No coercion occurred; the dissolution has been conducted with respect for each other’s dignity and honor.”

A ripple of murmurs passed through the assembly — some surprised, some curious, some relieved. Even the most skeptical nobles found themselves struck by the calm gravity of his announcement.

Sasuke continued, voice unwavering. “Let it be known: this decision does not reflect failure or animosity. Ino and I have acted in accordance with the responsibilities owed to our empire, ensuring the transition remains smooth and the kingdom’s stability intact. Our alliance, though concluded in marriage, remains grounded in loyalty to the people and the greater good of the realm.”

A few noble ladies exchanged glances, whispers of relief mixing with curiosity. The younger courtiers, some of whom had grown up under rumors of the marriage, now understood the truth: it had always been a partnership of duty, not affection.

Naruto, standing slightly behind Sasuke, leaned in and whispered, “The way you handled that… everyone’s reaction is almost muted. No scandal, no chaos. Just… honesty.”

Sasuke allowed the smallest nod, his gaze moving to the window that overlooked the palace gardens. Somewhere there, Hinata and Aoshi would hear the news. Somewhere, a fragile, delicate peace had been preserved.

Ren, standing silently at Sasuke’s side, allowed himself a barely perceptible nod. He caught a few eyes across the room — counselors who had long doubted, advisors who had anticipated political chaos — now offering discreet, approving glances. His sharp mind noted each subtle movement, recognizing that Sasuke had not only maintained control but subtly reshaped perception in the empire’s favor.

Mikoto, from her vantage point in the side gallery, allowed a faint, approving smile to touch her lips. She had long observed her son’s strength, his restraint, and his ethical approach to ruling, but seeing him navigate this moment — so public, so personal, yet so impeccably balanced — gave her a quiet sense of pride. Her eyes softened as she imagined the years of hardship they had both endured: the mistakes, the distance, the burdens. All of it had led to this moment of quiet mastery.

Sasuke’s gaze swept once more over the hall, lingering on subtle nods of respect, the careful attention of the empire’s key advisors, and finally returning to the calm, approving eyes of his mother. He allowed himself a fraction of a smile, almost imperceptible, before straightening fully and signaling the close of the assembly.

As the courtiers began to disperse, some still murmuring, a few lingered with quiet, respectful bows. The empire had witnessed the announcement — and it had been absorbed without scandal, without chaos, and with a subtle, undeniable affirmation of his authority.

Ren fell into step beside him as they exited the hall. “The kingdom accepted it well,” he said softly. “Better than expected.”

Sasuke exhaled quietly, his shoulders loosening for the first time that morning. “Yes,” he murmured. “The empire is stable… and our family can finally focus on what matters most.”

Mikoto lingered in the gallery a moment longer, eyes tracing the path Sasuke took, before quietly retreating. She knew that what she had seen today — her son commanding not only respect but understanding — was a turning point. The mistakes of the past, the burdens she had once placed on him, could no longer define the future. And for the first time in many years, she allowed herself to believe that the happiness she saw in him could last.

In the crowd, a few nobles whispered among themselves: “He did it with dignity. No scandal.” Another voice muttered, “This was inevitable. We all knew it would end this way.” And a young courtier, eyes wide, whispered to a neighbor: “The king… he’s changed. He’s… freer somehow.”

Sasuke allowed himself one small, private breath, feeling the subtle support in the room, the trust of his counselors, and the quiet approval of his mother. Ren’s eyes met his briefly, a silent acknowledgment: the empire had absorbed the news with grace, and the path forward was secure.

Later, back at the house, Sasuke returned to Hinata. She was accompanied by Aoshi, who had been listening intently to the palace messengers’ reports. Sitting beside her, Sasuke took her hands in his and said softly, “It’s done. The announcement is official. The empire is stable, and everything we’ve planned — for you, for Aoshi, for our family — is protected.”

Hinata exhaled, a mixture of relief and lingering anxiety easing from her shoulders. “I… I was worried,” she admitted, voice low.

“You had no reason,” Sasuke replied, fingers brushing gently against hers. “I promised I would protect you. And I always keep my promises.”

Aoshi’s voice chimed from beside them, “It’s done?  Really?”

“Yes,” Sasuke said, pressing a hand to his son’s hair. “All of us. And soon, we’ll have even more to look forward to.”

Hinata smiled, resting against him, and together they watched the evening lanterns flicker on in the garden. The empire was stable, their family was safe, and for the first time in years, Sasuke allowed himself to feel the quiet satisfaction of a king who had protected both his crown and his heart.

---

Chapter Text

The late afternoon sun filtered through the trees near the cabin, casting long shadows across the training yard. Aoshi’s movements were precise, his stance balanced and confident, reflecting the skills he had been honing under Naruto’s guidance. Sasuke watched quietly, arms folded, his sharp eyes noting every adjustment, every shift of weight.

“You’re improving,” Sasuke said finally, voice calm but carrying authority. “But you’re still tensing your shoulders too much. It’ll cost you speed and endurance in a real fight.”

Aoshi straightened slightly, brushing a lock of hair from his face. “I know,” he admitted. “I’m trying, but it’s… hard to stay loose when I feel like I have to get everything right in front of you.”

Sasuke’s expression softened, and he stepped closer. “You don’t have to prove anything to me, Aoshi. I’ve watched you grow stronger every day. That’s enough.”

For a long moment, Aoshi studied his father, the man who had been absent for fifteen years yet who now stood before him, patient and unwavering. Then, almost instinctively, he spoke, his voice quieter this time. “Father…”

Immediately, he corrected himself, cheeks flushing. “I mean… Old man.”

Sasuke’s lips curved into a faint, proud smile. “You don’t have to worry, Aoshi. Hearing that word from you… it’s made me the happiest man in the world. Call me ‘Father’ as much as you’re comfortable. I’ll cherish it.”

Aoshi blinked, a mixture of shock and something softer, more vulnerable, crossing his features. “I… I’ll try,” he muttered, but there was a newfound determination in his eyes.

The moment lingered, warm and fragile, a bridge over the years lost. In the quiet of the cabin’s yard, father and son began to forge the bonds that would carry them into the future — steady, unwavering, and full of hope.

---

Later that night, Hinata sat by the window, the golden glow of the setting sun spilling over her lap. A letter lay in front of her, neatly folded, the familiar seal instantly recognizable. With a small, shaky breath, she broke the seal and unfolded the parchment.

“Hinata, my dear,” the letter began in Tsunade’s confident yet warm handwriting, “I’ve received word from Sasuke, and I will be coming to the palace to stay with you throughout your pregnancy. Nothing in the world will stop me from being there for you and the children. You will have my guidance, support, and protection every step of the way. Trust me, you are not alone.”

Hinata’s hands trembled slightly as she read, the weight of relief and gratitude pressing on her chest. She looked toward the forest beyond the cabin, imagining Tsunade’s presence nearby, a steady and reassuring force.

“Sasu was right,” she whispered to herself, voice soft but firm. “I won’t have to face this alone.”

Just then, Sasuke appeared in the doorway, his calm presence filling the room. “You got the letter,” he observed quietly, a faint smile touching his lips.

Hinata nodded, folding the letter gently. “Yes… she’s coming. She’ll stay at the palace with us. I… I feel safer knowing she’ll be here.”

Sasuke stepped closer, bringing her into a hug. “I promised you she would be. You won’t have to worry about a thing. I’ve arranged everything.”

Hinata’s eyes glistened. “Thank you… for everything. For Aoshi, for this child… for making sure we have support. It means more than I can say.”

Sasuke brushed a strand of hair from her face, his voice soft but steady. “We’ve been given a second chance, Hinata. Fifteen years apart, and now… we make things right. Together.”

Hinata took a deep breath, resting her head against Sasuke’s shoulder. “Together”.“Sasuke… we need to talk about what comes next,” she said softly. “The empire, the wedding… and, the children.”

Sasuke nodded, his expression thoughtful but calm. “I’ve been planning,” he admitted. “Ren and Naruto have helped assess every potential outcome. The public announcement of the divorce went smoothly, and we’ve ensured the empire’s stability. Now we need to focus on how we present our family — you, Aoshi, and the second child.”

Hinata squeezed his hand, a flicker of concern in her eyes. “I want everything to be right, for Aoshi and for the baby. But… people will talk. The fact that we were separated, that Aoshi was born before we were married… some will see it as scandal.”

Sasuke shook his head, a faint, reassuring smile tugging at his lips. “We have prepared for that. The empire knows that our marriage to Ino was political. Many have suspected we were never truly in love. Now, we are acting out of honesty, duty, and… love. That is the truth. The rest is noise.”

Hinata exhaled slowly, relief washing over her. “It… it feels surreal,” she murmured, fingers brushing over her abdomen. “To think we’re finally here, together, building this family… after everything.”

Sasuke pressed a soft kiss to her temple, his hand resting over hers. “After so many years apart… after everything that kept us separated… we finally have a chance to make things right. For love. For stability. For our children.”

A small pause lingered, filled with the quiet confidence of shared resolve. Sasuke’s gaze softened as he looked at her, truly seeing her — the strength she had carried, the sacrifices, the patience. “Hinata,” he said, voice steady, “we will marry soon. Not for the empire alone, but for us. For Aoshi. And for the child you carry. Everything will be handled properly, with dignity, so that no one can question the love and care we have for our family.”

Hinata’s eyes glistened with unshed tears. “I trust you, Sasuke. I know you will do what’s right.”

He smiled faintly, fingers intertwining with hers. “And you… you’ve endured so much. I will protect you and our children. Mother will help. Tsunade will help. We will not leave anything to chance.”

For a moment, the two of them sat in silence, allowing the gravity of their plan to settle in, feeling the quiet power of unity and the promise of a family restored. Outside, the wind rustled through the trees, as if echoing the new path they were about to carve — one built not on political convenience, but on love, trust, and the determination to make the next chapter of their lives a future worth living.

Outside, the wind whispered through the trees, carrying a sense of promise. Soon, Tsunade would arrive, the palace would become a home again for their growing family, and for the first time in many years, Hinata felt the weight of fear ease. Surrounded by Sasuke, Aoshi, and soon Tsunade, she realized she wasn’t just surviving anymore — she was being supported, loved, and finally, at home.

Chapter Text

The sun had dipped low, casting a warm amber glow across the palace courtyard. Mikoto approached the house where Aoshi and Hinata lived together. The soft clatter of swords against practice dummies reached her ears, and she paused for a moment, observing the scene before stepping closer.

Since learning that Hinata had returned—and that she was expecting her second grandchild—she truly meant what she told Sasuke, that she would be there for him, for her grandchildren, and even for Hinata, whom she had grown to deeply appreciate over the past few weeks.

Aoshi was practicing precise strikes, his movements disciplined and fluid, clearly reflecting the years of training he had undergone. Hinata stood nearby, a gentle smile on her face as she watched him, occasionally offering guidance.

“Good evening,” Mikoto said softly, stepping onto the stone path.

Aoshi’s movements froze mid-swing, and he turned sharply, instinctively reaching for his sword. His eyes widened as he recognized her. “Grandma…” His voice carried a mixture of surprise, caution, and curiosity.

Mikoto held up her hands in a peaceful gesture, a gentle smile on her face. “Relax, Aoshi. I’m not here to judge or discipline. I just wanted to see you… and Hinata.”

Hinata stepped forward, placing a reassuring hand on her son’s shoulder. “Aoshi, she’s here to meet us, to be part of the family. Nothing more.”

Aoshi lowered his sword, though his posture remained alert. “I… I understand,” he said carefully, studying Mikoto’s expression. There was a wariness in his eyes, the product of fifteen years spent apart from family he barely knew, yet he sensed sincerity in her presence.

Mikoto nodded, her voice softening. “Aoshi, I want you to know something important. I’m here because I care about you — not because of titles, not because of politics, but because you are family. I hope that, in time, you can see me as someone you can trust.”

Aoshi’s eyes flickered with emotion, the weight of her words slowly sinking in. “I… I’d like that,” he admitted, voice quieter now, more open.

Mikoto’s gaze shifted to Hinata, her expression sincere. “And Hinata… I know I misjudged you in the past. Your heart, your strength… I see it now. I’m not apologizing just because you carry Sasuke’s child. I’m apologizing because I didn’t see who you truly were. I hope, in time, we can become friends.”

Hinata’s throat tightened, tears welling in her eyes. “Thank you… That means a lot,” she whispered, before gently hugging Mikoto. “It’s okay… I’m glad you came.”

Aoshi watched quietly, his expression softening. After a moment, he stepped forward, breaking the silence. “Grandma… I think it’s nice that you’re here. I… I want to get to know you better.”

Mikoto smiled, a rare warmth in her eyes. “I’d like that very much, Aoshi.”

Sasuke, who had been watching from the doorway, felt a quiet relief settle over him. So many years apart had left deep scars, but here, in the soft light of evening, he saw the beginnings of healing — his son cautiously opening up, his mother forming a bridge of trust, and Hinata standing firmly at the center, steady and strong.

The three of them shared a quiet moment, a fragile but growing sense of family beginning to take root. Outside, the breeze rustled the trees, as if carrying a silent promise: that despite the years lost, the bonds they were forming now would hold fast, carrying them into the future together.

---
Finally, the day had come.

The throne room of the palace was bathed in late morning sunlight, gilded tapestries and polished marble reflecting the grandeur of the empire. Nobles, council members, and dignitaries from surrounding territories filled the room, their eyes filled with curiosity, anticipation, and subtle murmurs. Sasuke stood at the center, tall and composed, Mikoto and Hinata slightly behind him, a quiet but steady presence.

A hush fell over the crowd as Sasuke stepped forward. “Honored members of the empire, esteemed council, and friends,” he began, his voice calm yet carrying the weight of authority. “Today, I make a personal announcement — one that reflects not only my life but the future of our family.”

He paused briefly, glancing at Hinata, whose hands rested gently over her abdomen, her expression calm but resolute. His voice softened, carrying both pain and gratitude. “Because of tragedy and the cruel decisions of fate, Hinata and I were separated for many years. Fifteen years, in fact. But even across that time, the love we shared endured — a love that truly few people experience. Life’s circumstances could not erase it, and now, through fortune and persistence, we have found each other again.”

A ripple of surprise moved through the room. The Hyuga name carried weight and history, and this union — long hidden — was now official. Sasuke continued, steadying the room with his presence. “This engagement is not merely ceremonial. It reflects a commitment to family, to honesty, and to the future. Hinata has been by my side through trials that few could imagine, and she will continue to be a partner in guiding our empire, as well as our family, forward.”

Hinata stepped forward slightly, her voice quiet but confident. “I am honored, Your Majesty,” she said, her gaze sweeping the gathered audience. “And I pledge my support, love, and dedication to Sasuke and our family.”

From the crowd, subtle whispers and exchanged glances reflected surprise, curiosity, and cautious approval. A few elders nodded, recognizing the significance of Sasuke’s words and the courage required to reveal such a secret after so many years.

Then, Sasuke gestured behind him. “And there is someone else I would like you all to meet formally.”

Aoshi stepped forward, standing tall for a fifteen-year-old, his posture confident yet tinged with natural teenage hesitation. The room quieted even further, whispers of curiosity rippling through the assembly.
“This is my son, Aoshi,” Sasuke announced, his voice steady and proud. “He is the heir of our family, and in time, he will carry the legacy of this empire alongside me. Aoshi has grown into a capable, honorable young man, and it is only fitting that his presence be recognized today, alongside the engagement of Hinata and myself.”

Aoshi bowed respectfully to the council and the assembly, his raven eyes meeting theirs with calm determination. A few council members exchanged approving glances, nodding subtly, while others murmured in awe.

Mikoto’s presence at Hinata’s side added a quiet reassurance. Her gaze swept over Aoshi, who stood slightly behind Hinata, hands folded but eyes wide with a mix of awe and tentative pride. Sasuke caught his son’s eye and gave the faintest of nods, silently telling him: this was their family, now recognized and respected.

Aoshi’s voice was barely audible, but it carried clear emotion. “Father… I… I’m proud of you.”

Sasuke’s lips curved into a faint, approving smile. “Thank you, Aoshi,” he said softly. “This is for all of us.”

The room remained quiet for a moment longer, absorbing the weight of the announcement, before polite applause began — hesitant at first, then growing as the significance of the engagement sank in. The Hyuga family name, once burdened by history, now stood beside the crown in legitimacy, heralding a new era of understanding, respect, and unity.

After the audience dispersed, Sasuke, Hinata, and Aoshi lingered in the now-empty hall. Hinata leaned slightly against Sasuke, a soft smile on her face. “It feels… right,” she murmured.

Sasuke’s hand rested lightly on hers. “It does,” he agreed. “We’ve been given a second chance, and now everyone knows. Soon, we’ll make it official. Together.”

Aoshi glanced up at his father, a quiet determination in his eyes. “I… I’m ready to stand by you both. I want to be part of this family — fully.”

Sasuke’s chest tightened with emotion, pride and relief mingling. “You already are, Aoshi. And we’ll face the future together — as a family, finally whole.”

Outside, the palace courtyard glowed under the late sun, a promise of new beginnings reflecting in the faces of those who had once only whispered, now witnessing the foundation of a family ready to face the world together.

---

Chapter Text

The palace gardens were quiet in the late afternoon, the sun low on the horizon, painting the marble pathways with a warm, golden glow. Sasuke stood near a fountain, hands clasped behind his back, eyes distant as he reviewed in his mind the final moments before the ceremony. The gentle rustle of leaves broke his thoughts, and he turned to see Naruto approaching, a wide grin on his face.

“Sasuke,” Naruto said warmly, clapping him on the shoulder. “I just… I wanted to say congratulations. Really. I’m so happy for you — for everything. Hinata, Aoshi, the engagement… the family you’re building.”

Sasuke allowed himself a faint smile, a rarity in public or private. “Thank you, Naruto. That means more than you know.”

Naruto leaned against the edge of the fountain, his tone softening. “I’ve watched you carry so much over the years. You kept so many secrets, bore responsibilities most people couldn’t imagine… and you never let it break you. Seeing you now… happy… it’s… well, it’s what you deserve.”

Sasuke’s eyes met his friend’s, an unspoken acknowledgment of their shared history passing between them. “It hasn’t been easy. There were decisions I had to make… sacrifices that felt necessary at the time. But I’ve finally found a balance, a way to protect those I care about and to live honestly. Hinata, Aoshi, the baby…they remind me why it’s worth it.”

Naruto’s grin softened into something more contemplative. “You’ve come a long way, Sasuke. And I’ve got to admit… seeing you like this — settled, finally — it’s a little surprising, but in a good way. You’ve earned it.”

Sasuke exhaled quietly, allowing himself a rare moment of vulnerability. “I only hope that, when the time comes, we can all move forward without unnecessary judgment. That this family… this life… will be respected, not just for me, but for Aoshi and for the children to come.”

Naruto clapped him on the back again. “It will, Sasuke. I’ll make sure of it. You’ve got me on your side, no matter what.”

Sasuke, unaware of the silent observer, straightened, his jaw set firmly. “Thank you, Naruto. I… I appreciate your support.”

Naruto grinned one last time. “Anytime, Sasuke. And hey… after this wedding, we’ll celebrate properly. But for now… just enjoy the calm before the storm.”

Sasuke allowed himself a small nod, feeling the weight of the moment but also the rare warmth of brotherly reassurance. Soon, he would stand before the empire, solidify the engagement, and begin the next chapter of his life — as king, as father, and now, finally, as a husband.

In the shadows, Orochimaru’s eyes lingered around for a moment before retreating into the shadows, silently filing away every detail. The Hyuga Lady was with child, that is what Mikoto hid from him in their last conversation. His interest wasn’t malevolent…this time, merely observant — calculating the consequences, predicting outcomes, but not interfering.
---

The morning of the wedding dawned clear and bright, sunlight streaming through the palace windows and bathing the throne room in a warm, golden glow. Courtiers, dignitaries, and nobles from across the empire filled the room, their faces a mixture of curiosity, awe, and cautious anticipation. Today was not only the union of Sasuke and Hinata but also the public acknowledgment of Aoshi as the heir, a moment long kept secret.

Sasuke stood tall at the center, clad in ceremonial robes that marked him as king. Mikoto was at his side, her proud gaze sweeping over the assembly, while Hinata stepped forward gracefully, her own ceremonial attire elegant yet understated, her hand resting lightly over her abdomen, which was beginning to show the first signs of her pregnancy, yet subtle enough to go unnoticed for the public.

The room fell silent as Sasuke raised his voice. “Honored members of the empire, distinguished guests, today marks a new chapter — not only in my life but in the life of my family. For years, circumstances have kept us apart, but through fortune and perseverance, we have found each other again.”

He gestured behind him. Aoshi stepped forward, confidently carrying himself for his age, opal eyes scanning the room with a quiet mixture of pride and curiosity. “My son, Aoshi,” Sasuke said, his tone unwavering. “Is the heir of our family and the future of this empire. Today, we stand united — as a family, finally acknowledged by the world.”

The crowd cheered in admiration. Whispers still lingered around regarding the king’s secret child mixed with awe at the courage and resolve of the Hyuga woman who had long been absent from the palace. Some remembered Hinata from her youth and marvelled at her poise and dignity; others had never heard of her before and watched with curiosity as she took her place beside the king.

Hinata’s hands were lightly clasped with Sasuke’s, and he gave her a reassuring glance. “Today isn’t just for us,” he murmured, “it’s for Aoshi, for our future, for the family we’ve built and the family yet to come.”

The ceremony proceeded smoothly, blending tradition with personal significance. Vows were exchanged, gentle yet filled with emotion, acknowledging the past, the hardships endured, and the love that had persisted against all odds. When Sasuke and Hinata shared their first kiss as husband and wife, it was tender and quiet, a private affirmation amid the public spectacle — a kiss that conveyed gratitude, relief, and the quiet promise of a lifetime together.

After the ceremony, the family spent a few private moments together. Mikoto leaned over Aoshi, whispering softly, “You’ve grown into a fine young man. I am proud to call you my grandson.”

Aoshi looked at her, hesitant but touched. “Thank you… for everything.”

Sasuke rested a hand on Aoshi’s shoulder. “You’ve done well, son. Standing here with us today… it means more than you know.”

Tsunade, who had arrived and settled in the palace just two days before the wedding ceremony, stayed close to Hinata throughout the ceremony, gave a warm, approving nod. “You’ve handled this beautifully. The palace, the ceremony, your pregnancy… all of it. You’re stronger than most would be.”

Hinata smiled, feeling the warmth of support around her. “I couldn’t have done it without all of you.”

In the following weeks, the empire gradually adjusted to the news of the king’s secret son and the long-hidden love story that had finally culminated in this union. Conversations varied — some expressed surprise, others admiration — but the growing understanding of Sasuke and Hinata’s genuine bond softened initial shock. Aoshi, now recognized publicly as heir, carried himself with pride, earning quiet respect from those who observed him.

---

5 months later:

The palace had settled into a rhythm of normalcy and subtle excitement. Hinata’s pregnancy had become visible, her gentle curves now unmistakable under carefully tailored robes. The family adjusted around the new dynamic: Sasuke balanced his duties as king while spending more intentional time with his wife and son; Mikoto enjoyed growing closeness with her grandchild, sharing quiet afternoons and tender moments of bonding; Tsunade, ever practical and supportive, remained a steadfast presence by Hinata’s side, guiding her through the changes of pregnancy with the support of the old herbalist of the palace.

Aoshi, now fully aware of his status as heir, spent time training under his father, learning the responsibilities and subtleties of leadership while also sharing moments of casual companionship — laughter, conversation, and even quiet reflection by the palace gardens. The family, once fragmented by circumstance, was slowly forming a cohesive, loving unit, each member finding their place and learning the rhythms of a life that had been long deferred but was now firmly underway.

Chapter Text

Life in the palace continued in a steady rhythm. Courtyards echoed with the soft footfalls of attendants, and the hum of work flowed through the halls like clockwork. Hinata, visibly heavy with her pregnancy, moved slowly through the corridors, guided by Tsunade’s careful oversight and her own resolve to take care of herself. Her movements were deliberate, her eyes often glancing toward Sasuke’s office or the training grounds, wondering how much he was thinking about her in between the demands of kingship.

One quiet afternoon, Hinata found the courage she had been gathering for weeks. She approached Sasuke in his study, her hands slightly trembling, and set a neatly bound leather diary on his desk.

“I… I wanted you to have this,” she said softly. “It’s from my first pregnancy with Aoshi, the diary I told you about in the meadow but never got to give it to you. Everything I wrote… from the early days of my uncertainty to the moments with him as he grew… I wanted you to see it.”

Sasuke’s eyes widened slightly, and he reached out to touch the cover, as though afraid it might disappear if he moved too quickly. “Hinata…” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. He opened the diary carefully, turning the pages with reverence. Each line, each small observation, each recorded memory of their son’s earliest days struck him deeply.

Over the following weeks, whenever he found a rare quiet moment in his office or during late nights after council meetings, Sasuke would read the diary, immersing himself in the life of Aoshi — feeling the weight of the years he had missed but letting himself experience it now through Hinata’s eyes. Occasionally, a pang of guilt would strike him for not being there, but Hinata’s words, softly penned in ink, reminded him: “We are here now. That is what matters. We can build a better life together.”

Meanwhile, Aoshi had matured beyond expectations. His intelligence, poise, and skill had surprised even the most skeptical nobles, who now whispered that the king’s son might surpass even the legends of the royal lineage. People accepted him as the heir, his legitimacy solidified not just by blood but by his competence and demeanor.

In the mornings, Tsunade and Shiro could often be found working together in a quiet corner of the palace, exchanging herbalist techniques and healing knowledge to support Hinata’s pregnancy. Their collaboration had become almost instinctual, a seamless partnership that no one fully understood but that greatly reassured Hinata.

It was during one of these routine checkups that the surprising news arrived. Tsunade’s brow furrowed as she scanned the latest readings. “Hinata… it appears you’re carrying twins.”

Hinata froze, her hand going instinctively to her belly. “Twins?” she whispered, a mixture of awe and anxiety in her voice.

Sasuke, who had been standing behind her, felt his chest tighten. His joy was immense, but the shock was immediate and overwhelming. “Twins…” he repeated, voice low. “I… I see.”

Later, when Naruto arrived for one of his routine check-ins, he could not resist teasing. “Fate has a funny sense of humor, huh? Couldn’t be there for your first son’s early years, and now you get twins at once! Talk about making up for lost time!”

Sasuke’s lips curved into a faint, wry smile, though his eyes remained vigilant. “I’ll do everything to protect them,” he said firmly. “No harm will come to them, to Hinata, or to Aoshi. Not now, not ever.”

The following weeks were a delicate balance. Sasuke became overprotective, insisting Hinata rest, managing her schedule down to the smallest detail, and carefully navigating her cravings — some unusual, some startling — with a patience he hadn’t realized he possessed. Hinata, despite her fatigue and occasional discomfort, found herself laughing at his efforts, grateful for his unwavering dedication.

Aoshi, now sixteen, grew closer to both parents during these months. He trained under his father’s guidance while also helping around the palace when he could, quietly observing the care and attention both Sasuke and Hinata poured into preparing for the new additions to the family.

Yet, while the family grew stronger together, shadows lingered. Orochimaru moved discreetly within the palace, calculating and patient, taking note of every subtle shift — Mikoto’s softened demeanor, Hinata’s increasing prominence, Aoshi’s rising influence. He did not act openly, but quietly set pieces in motion, planning for a future where the new heir could face challenges unknown to the family. His relationship with Mikoto had subtly shifted; he noted her willingness to take risks for her son and grandchildren, a softness that he found… perplexing. While she no longer moved entirely with calculated precision, he recognized that her priorities had shifted — that protecting her grandchild now outweighed strict political maneuvering.

For now, Orochimaru observed and calculated, waiting for the moment when he could test the family’s strength without revealing his hand. Meanwhile, within the palace walls, Sasuke, Hinata, Aoshi, Tsunade, and Mikoto continued to build a life — one grounded in love, vigilance, and the promise of a future brightened by hope, even as unseen currents gathered in the shadows.

---

The sun was beginning its slow descent, casting a golden glow across the palace gardens. The leaves rustled softly in the late afternoon breeze, whispering through the branches of the old tree in the meadow— the same one that had once stood watch over their stolen moments years ago.

Hinata stood beneath its shade, the gentle swell of her belly outlined by the soft fabric of her gown. Her hands rested over the life growing inside her, her expression peaceful yet touched by reflection. Sasuke approached from behind, his footsteps quiet, his presence grounding.

Without a word, he slid his arms around her waist, drawing her back gently against him. His hands settled over hers, resting on the curve of her stomach, his thumbs tracing slow, rhythmic circles against the silk. He leaned down, pressing tender kisses to the sides of her neck, his breath warm against her skin.

For a long moment, they said nothing. They simply swayed together, the world shrinking to the rustle of the leaves, the pulse of their hearts, and the steady rise and fall of her breathing.

“It feels like we’ve waited a lifetime for this,” Hinata murmured softly, her voice barely more than a whisper.

Sasuke’s chin brushed her shoulder. “Maybe we have,” he replied, his tone quiet and thoughtful. “But it was worth it… every step, every fight, every moment apart. To end up here — with you.”

Hinata smiled faintly, her fingers intertwining with his. “Do you ever wonder… what the years might have been like if things had been different?”

Sasuke exhaled through his nose, the sound deep and low. “Sometimes,” he admitted. “But then I look at what we have now, and I think… maybe fate was just waiting for us to be ready. Maybe this was how it had to be.”

She turned slightly in his arms, her eyes glimmering with warmth and memory. “You always sound so certain.”

“Only about you,” he said, pressing another kiss just below her ear.

Hinata’s laugh broke the stillness, light and melodic. “You’re being sentimental again,” she teased softly.

“Only because you make me this way.”

She shifted fully to face him, her hands resting around his neck, fingers brushing the nape of his hair. When he went to encircle her waist, she gave a playful pout and laughed. “You can’t hug me properly anymore,” she teased, nudging him with a soft grin. “I’m too big now.”

Sasuke’s lips curved into a rare, quiet smile. “You’re not big,” he murmured, leaning closer. “You’re carrying my children.”

Hinata’s cheeks flushed pink, but before she could reply, he pulled her gently back toward him, closing the distance until their foreheads met. Their noses brushed in that familiar, intimate gesture that belonged only to them — a silent promise born years ago under the same tree.

She whispered softly, her words trembling between emotion and memory. “Always and forever.”

For a heartbeat, Sasuke froze — a flicker of surprise and nostalgia passing over his face. “You still remember that?” he asked quietly, his voice roughened by emotion.

Hinata smiled, eyes shining. “I could never forget.”

Sasuke’s hand rose to cradle her cheek, his thumb tracing along her jaw as he leaned in, their foreheads still touching. “Always,” he breathed, the single word carrying the weight of years — of love lost, found, and rebuilt.

They stood there for a long while, wrapped in the golden light of the setting sun, their hearts in sync — two souls who had weathered time and pain to find each other again. The world seemed still, as if the universe itself had paused to honor the quiet eternity promised beneath that old tree.

Chapter Text

The small cemetery where her mother rested was simple, surrounded by white lilies and wildflowers. As they approached, Hinata’s breath trembled. Her fingers curled around Sasuke’s hand with a kind of fragile strength, as though afraid to let go.

When they reached the grave, she knelt slowly before it, one hand resting instinctively over her belly. Her voice was soft, barely carried by the wind.
“Mother… I’m sorry it’s been so long.”
Sasuke stood a respectful distance behind her, watching silently.

Hinata’s eyes glistened as she continued, speaking not to the stone but to the memories that still lived in her heart. “So much has happened since I last came here. There were times when I thought I’d never be able to stand in this place again… that maybe, after everything, I didn’t deserve to.”

Her voice wavered, and she swallowed hard.

“But I think you’d be happy now. I think you’d like him — like how kind he’s been, how patient.” She smiled faintly, glancing back at Sasuke through the blur of her tears. “We have a son, Aoshi. You’d be proud of him, too. He’s everything good I could’ve ever hoped for.”

Sasuke stepped forward then, kneeling beside her. He placed a single white lily upon the grave, bowing his head in silent respect. “You raised a woman stronger than anyone I’ve ever known,” he said quietly. “And I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure she and our children never suffer again.”

Hinata leaned into him, her head resting on his shoulder. For a while, they stayed that way — two figures before a weathered gravestone, the weight of the past lifting just enough to let the present breathe.
When the wind stirred again, Hinata whispered softly, “Wherever you are, I hope you can see us. I hope you’re proud.”
Sasuke’s hand found hers. “She is,” he murmured.

Afterward, they left the cemetery and traveled deeper into the countryside, to a small cottage nestled between the trees — the home of Nana, the old palace cook who had once been like a grandmother to them both. The cottage door hung slightly ajar, its garden overgrown yet still fragrant with herbs and flowers.

Sasuke’s expression softened as he said quietly, “She passed peacefully… some years ago. She never forgot you.”

Hinata’s eyes welled again, but this time her tears were quiet, gentle. “She was the warmth in that cold palace,” she whispered.

“The only one who ever treated me like I mattered.”

They left a small basket of fresh blooms by the cottage door, a gesture of remembrance — then turned back toward the palace, hand in hand, the silence between them no longer heavy but calm, like the closing of an old wound.
By late afternoon, the sun began to dip low across the gardens.

---

The soft light of dusk filtered through the palace corridors as Sasuke guided Hinata by the hand, his steps unhurried yet purposeful. She had noticed that they weren’t heading toward their chambers but deeper into the older wing of the palace — the one that hadn’t seen daily use in years. The air grew quieter there, carrying a faint scent of cedar and dust, yet beneath it lingered something familiar.

Sasuke walked ahead, his hand resting lightly over Hinata’s as though steadying her. Her movements were slower now, deliberate, the weight of her pregnancy showing in each graceful step.

When they stopped before a wooden, carved door, Hinata’s heart skipped. Her breath caught before she even spoke.

“Sasuke… is this—?”

He nodded silently and pushed the door open. The hinges creaked softly, as though even they remembered.

The room was almost exactly as she had left it years ago — the curtains faded by time, the ink brushes still neatly arranged on her writing desk, and near the window, a simple wooden stand where her old herbal set, still wrapped in silk cloth. Everything seemed suspended in time, untouched by the chaos that had torn them apart.

Hinata stepped inside slowly, her fingers brushing the surface of the desk. “It’s just like before…” she whispered.

Sasuke stayed by the door for a moment, watching her as if afraid the memory might crumble if he moved too quickly. Then, with quiet resolve, he spoke.

“I used to come here,” he said, voice low but steady. “When things became too much… when the weight of everything felt like it would break me. I’d sit by that window and tell myself that maybe you’d come back one day.”

Hinata turned to him, eyes wide, shimmering with disbelief and tenderness.

“I couldn’t let them touch anything in here,” Sasuke continued, stepping further inside. “This room… it became my sanctuary. Even when you were gone, it still felt like you were here. Nana was the only one who ever came with me — she used to clean it and light the incense and say, ‘The lady might visit tonight, we must keep her space warm.’”

His voice faltered just slightly on those last words, and for the first time in years, Hinata saw something she hadn’t seen in him even during battle or loss — a raw, unguarded vulnerability.

She saw Sasuke walk towards a wall, where sword rack hung. He opened the wooden drawer beneath it and lifted up a sword.

Her breath caught.

She walked forward slowly, her trembling fingers brushing the edge of the sword. “You… have kept it all this time?” she whispered.

Sasuke stepped closer, his voice low and heavy with emotion. “That sword was my gift to you — for your eighteenth birthday. I remember how your hands shook when you held it for the first time.”

Hinata smiled faintly, eyes glistening. “You told me that a sword isn’t only for battle… that it was a reminder of strength, of protecting what mattered.”

He nodded, gaze softening. “When you fell into the river, I sent men across every stretch of the land. For months, I searched. I refused to believe you were gone. And then…”

He paused, swallowing hard. “Six months later, one of the search guards brought this sword back to me. Said he found it near the riverbank, half-buried in mud.”

Hinata turned to him, her lips trembling. “That’s when you stopped searching.”

His jaw tensed, the pain flickering in his eyes.

For a long moment, neither spoke. The silence between them was heavy, filled with the echoes of years lost — of love

Hinata’s lips quivered as she stepped closer, her hand trembling as she reached for his. “Sasuke…”

But the guilt that welled inside her was heavier than words. Her tears began to fall before she could stop them. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, voice breaking. “I should have maybe reach out … I shouldn’t have lied to you for so long… I—”

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered again, her voice trembling. “For all the pain I caused you… for not giving you the benefit of the doubt.”

Sasuke was beside her in an instant, his arms wrapping around her from behind, steady and protective. “No,” he murmured against her hair. “Don’t apologize. You didn’t choose what happened.”

“But you suffered because of me—”

“And you lived through something no one should ever have to,” he interrupted softly, his voice raw. “If anything, I should be the one apologizing — for giving up when I should’ve kept believing.”

“None of what happened was your fault. We both did what we thought we had to.”

She shook her head, still crying into him. “But all those years… you were alone. And I—”

He lifted her chin gently, his thumb brushing away the tears that streaked her cheeks. His eyes softened, filled with quiet pain but deeper love. “I wasn’t alone,” he said softly. “You were here — every time I stepped into this room, every time I saw that sword, or the light hit the curtains just like this. You never really left.”

Her sobs grew softer, her breath hitching in uneven rhythm. Sasuke rested his forehead against hers, his hand rubbing soothing circles along her back. “My love,” he whispered, “you’re here now. That’s all that matters. Don’t let the ghosts of the past take this moment from us.”

Hinata nodded weakly, still trembling, but her breathing began to steady under his touch. “I just… I wish things had been different,” she murmured.

He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “So do I,” he admitted, “but maybe this was the only way we could find our way back — the long, painful road that led us here.”

For a moment, they stood in silence, the fading sunlight spilling through the old curtains, casting their shadows across the floor — not as separate figures, but as one.

Sasuke’s hand slipped once more to her belly, his thumb moving in slow, tender strokes as though grounding her. “You need to rest,” he whispered finally. “You need to breathe, Hinata. The little ones don’t need their mother crying herself sick.”

She nodded, trying to calm her sobs. Her eyes — though swollen and red — still held that light he remembered, the one that could quiet even his most restless thoughts.

He brushed away a tear with his thumb. “Maybe I shouldn’t have brought you here,” he admitted. “Not now. It was selfish of me — I just… I wanted you to see that I never forgot you. That I kept this place alive because it was the only piece of you I had left.”

Hinata’s lips trembled, but she smiled weakly. “It’s not selfish,” she whispered. “It’s… love. It always was.”

Sasuke’s breath hitched slightly — and for a heartbeat, the world seemed to stop. He drew her close again, his chin resting gently atop her head, and together they stood there in the silence of that room — surrounded by the relics of a love that had endured through loss, time, and impossible distance.

“This place is part of you. But now it’s time to make new memories here. No more pain, no more distance.”

Hinata smiled faintly, exhaustion softening her features. “Then we’ll fill it with laughter again.”

He brushed a strand of hair from her face, kissed her knuckles, and whispered, “That’s a promise.”

The last of the light faded beyond the window, and the room — once frozen in the past — began to feel alive again, warmed by the quiet rhythm of their breathing and the sound of their hearts finally beating in unison.

---

That night, the palace was unusually still. A soft rain fell outside, its rhythm gentle against the windowpanes, filling the silence with a lullaby of distant drops. Sasuke sat on the edge of the bed, his elbows resting on his knees, watching Hinata’s sleeping form. Or rather, trying to watch her sleep — though her breaths were uneven, her brow faintly furrowed.

He could tell she wasn’t resting.

He reached out, brushing a damp strand of hair from her face. “You’re awake,” he murmured quietly.

Her eyes fluttered open, the soft lavender hue hazy under the dim light. “I didn’t mean to wake you,” she whispered. “I just… can’t seem to fall asleep. Everything we saw today — it’s all so vivid.”

He shifted, lying beside her, one hand finding its place instinctively over her belly. The movement of his thumb was slow, soothing, rhythmic. “I shouldn’t have taken you there,” he said after a moment. “Not now, not when you’re this far along. It was irresponsible.”

She turned her head toward him, her expression tender but firm. “No,” she whispered. “It wasn’t selfish. It was… healing. Painful, yes, but it felt like something I needed to face. To finally let go of the ghosts.”

Sasuke studied her face, the faint light catching the curve of her lashes, the glint of resolve that hadn’t dimmed even after all she’d endured. “You’ve always been stronger than me,” he said softly.

Hinata smiled — that same quiet, humble smile that had disarmed him since they were young. “That’s not true,” she whispered. “You just carry your pain differently.”

They lay in silence for a moment, listening to the rain. Her fingers found his and interlaced them, resting both hands over the gentle swell of her stomach. “Sometimes,” she said softly, “I think about the years we lost and wonder if they were meant to teach us something… to make us value this even more.”

Sasuke’s gaze softened. He turned slightly toward her, brushing his lips over her temple. “If that’s true,” he murmured, “then I’ve learned that no amount of duty or crown means anything if I can’t protect the people I love.”

Hinata’s hand squeezed his gently, her breathing finally easing. “You’re doing that now,” she said, voice barely above a whisper. “You’re protecting us.”

He didn’t answer, but his hand tightened ever so slightly, his thumb tracing slow circles over her skin. Eventually, her breaths steadied, her body surrendering to sleep — and he stayed awake, watching her, counting each soft exhale as though keeping her tethered to the peace she’d fought so hard to deserve.

---

The sunlight that spilled into their chamber was pale and golden, the kind that made the marble floors glimmer faintly. Hinata was sitting by the window, dressed in a light robe, one hand absently caressing her stomach.

Tsunade and Shiro had already visited earlier that morning. They’d shared soft words outside the room, their tones concerned but calm. Sasuke could tell something was weighing on them.

When he entered, Tsunade gave him that familiar, assessing look — sharp but not unkind. “You need to make sure she rests more,” she said in her usual blunt tone. “Her body’s handling more than we expected. She’s strong — too strong for her own good sometimes — but she’s nearing her limit.”

Sasuke frowned. “Is something wrong?”

Shiro hesitated before answering. “Not wrong, my lord. But the pregnancy’s progressing faster than anticipated. Her body’s under strain. We’ll have to watch closely.”

Sasuke’s jaw tightened, but he nodded. “Then she won’t lift a finger more than she has to. Whatever she needs, I’ll make sure she has it.”

Tsunade arched an eyebrow, half amused. “That’s exactly what she’s been complaining about — you hovering over her like a hawk.”

Sasuke shot her a look, but before he could retort, Hinata spoke from the window, her tone warm but teasing. “She’s right. You can’t keep treating me like I’m made of glass, Sasu. I promise, I’m not going to shatter.”

He crossed the room in silence, stopping just behind her. His hands came to rest on her shoulders before sliding down to cradle her belly, his chin lightly brushing the top of her head. “You might not shatter,” he murmured, “but I’m not taking chances.”

Hinata turned slightly, meeting his gaze over her shoulder. “You’ve changed,” she whispered.

“In what way?”

“You used to be afraid to show when you cared,” she said softly. “Now you do it all the time — and it’s beautiful.”

He gave a quiet huff of laughter, his lips brushing against her ear. “That’s because now I finally know what I stand to lose.”

Hinata turned in his arms, looking up at him, her eyes shimmering with emotion. “You’re not going to lose us,” she said, voice full of quiet certainty.

He wanted to believe that — with all his heart.

Then, after a heartbeat, she smiled. “But if you’re going to keep hovering over me, at least do it while feeding me those sweets Nana used to make.”

Sasuke chuckled softly, brushing her hair back. “Done,” he said simply. “As many as you want.”

Her laugh filled the room — soft, light, and healing.

From the door, Tsunade exchanged a knowing glance with Shiro. “They’ll be fine,” she murmured.

“For now,” Shiro added under his breath, his expression thoughtful.

As they left, the faint sound of Hinata’s laughter mingled with the quiet murmur of rain easing outside, carrying with it a fragile peace — one born of love, of second chances, and of the calm before the inevitable storm.

Chapter Text

It was still dark outside, the sky veiled in hues of deep blue when Hinata stirred from sleep. For a moment, she thought it was just another restless night — the kind that came often during the last months of her pregnancy. But the dull ache that tightened around her abdomen didn’t fade. It came again, sharper, stronger, and before she could steady her breath, a quiet whimper escaped her lips.

Sasuke slept soundly beside her, his arm draped protectively over her waist. Hinata bit her lip, not wanting to wake him just yet. Slowly, she slipped out from beneath the sheets, one hand clutching her swollen belly as she tried to breathe through the waves of pain. She began pacing the room softly, the moonlight spilling through the curtains illuminating her pale face.

Then, suddenly — a rush of warmth. Her breath hitched, and she froze. Her water had broken.

Heart pounding, she turned toward the bed, clutching at the sheets. “Sasu…” she whispered at first. But when another contraction tore through her, she cried out louder this time, shaking his shoulder. “Sasuke! I—I think it’s time!”

Sasuke’s eyes snapped open. For a split second, confusion clouded his expression — and then he saw her face twisted in pain, the sheets damp where she stood. In an instant, all traces of sleep vanished.

“Hinata—!” He leapt from the bed, steadying her by the arms. “Breathe, love. Just breathe for me,” he said urgently, trying to keep his voice steady even as panic clawed at his chest.

“I can’t— it hurts,” she whimpered, clutching his hand.

“You can,” he told her firmly, brushing damp strands of hair from her face. “You already did this once — alone. You’re stronger than anyone I’ve ever known.”

Leaving her seated on the edge of the bed, Sasuke hurried out of the chamber, calling for help. Within minutes, the palace erupted into motion. Servants rushed through the corridors, waking Tsunade, Shiro, and Mikoto. Even Naruto — half-asleep and confused — was at the door in moments.

By the time Sasuke returned, Tsunade was already issuing commands, her sleeves rolled up. “Boil water! Bring fresh towels — and clear this space!”

The once quiet royal bedroom transformed into a place of urgency. Mikoto coordinated with the maids, while Shiro prepared herbs under Tsunade’s direction. Naruto stood by the door, keeping Aoshi from barging in despite the boy’s anxious pacing.

Aoshi’s fists clenched tightly. “She’s in pain, Uncle Naruto— I can hear her,” he said, voice trembling.

Naruto placed a hand on his shoulder. “I know. But she needs you to stay calm. Your mother’s one of the strongest people I’ve ever met — she’s got this. And your father’s with her now.”

Mikoto soon joined them, her calm voice cutting through the tension. “Your mother is in good hands, Aoshi. Have faith — that’s the best thing you can do for her right now.”

Inside the room, Sasuke knelt at Hinata’s side. The hours dragged painfully — each contraction hitting harder, each cry tearing at his heart. He wiped the sweat from her forehead, whispered reassurances, and let her crush his hand with every surge of pain.

At one point, Hinata’s strength faltered. Tears streamed down her face as she gasped, “I can’t— I can’t anymore, Sasuke…”

“Yes, you can,” he said fiercely, leaning close, his forehead pressed to hers. “You’ve come too far to give up now. You’re a warrior, Hinata — my warrior. And this time, you’re not alone. I swear I’ll never leave your side again.”

Her hand clung to his, trembling, and with one final, agonizing push, the first cry filled the air — the cry of a baby boy. Hinata collapsed back, sobbing through exhaustion and relief. But Tsunade wasn’t finished.

“One more, Hinata,” she urged. “You’ve got another little fighter waiting.”

Moments later, another cry echoed through the chamber — higher, softer. A girl.

Hinata wept openly, the sound of her children’s voices blending with her own. Tsunade handed her the baby boy, and Sasuke — stunned and shaking — received the tiny girl. Both babies had tufts of soft hair that gleamed in the lamplight, dark like their father’s, and yet their delicate features carried Hinata’s gentleness.

Sasuke stared at them, completely undone. For the third time in his life, he fell in love. First with the woman before him. Then with the son he’d never knew of. And now — with these two miracles cradled in his arms.

When Tsunade and Shiro finished tending to Hinata, the room quieted. Sasuke and Hinata exchanged a long, tearful glance — no words needed. Just love, deep and eternal.

Later, when Hinata was settled and the babies were asleep in her arms, the others were allowed to enter.

Aoshi stepped in first, his face pale but his eyes bright with relief. The sight of his mother alive — holding two tiny bundles — nearly broke him. “Don’t you ever do that to me again,” he blurted out, half-laughing, half-crying.

Hinata let out a weak chuckle. “I’ll… do my best,” she whispered. “Come here my love.”

He approached, gently hugging her while peeking at his newborn siblings. “They’re so small…”

“They’ll grow,” Sasuke said softly, placing a hand on his son’s shoulder. “Just like you did.”

Mikoto followed next, her eyes shining with tears she didn’t try to hide. “They’re beautiful,” she whispered, brushing a trembling hand over their heads. For the first time in years, she felt her heart completely full — as though the cracks left by the past had finally been mended.

After everyone had admired the babies, Naruto leaned over, grinning. “So… what will you call them?”

Sasuke and Hinata exchanged a look — one filled with quiet understanding.

“For the boy,” Hinata said softly, “we’ve chosen Akiya, it means Brightness — for the light he brought into our lives.”

“And for the girl,” Sasuke added, his eyes softening as he gazed down at her, Airi, Gentle, and pure.”

Naruto smiled, nodding. “Beautiful names for beautiful kids.”

The room settled into peaceful quiet. Sasuke leaned closer to Hinata, his hand resting over hers as she held their newborn son. For the first time in a long while, everything felt complete — as though every moment of pain and separation had led to this one perfect dawn.

Outside, the first rays of sunlight began to break through the horizon, bathing the palace in soft gold. The cries of the twins faded into soft coos, and Sasuke, with a look of deep contentment, whispered, “Welcome home… Akiya and Airi Uchiha.”

Chapter Text

It had been nearly three months since the twins’ birth, and for the first time in decades, the Uchiha Palace breathed like something alive.

The corridors, once silent monuments to duty and loss , now echoed with laughter, subtle babbles, and the faint rustle of life returning.

Even the marble floors, once cold beneath the sun, seemed to shimmer with new warmth.

Hinata stood near the eastern balcony, sunlight tracing her hair in silver threads.

One hand cradled Airi in her cradle; the other reached behind her, steadying herself against the balcony rail.
On the rug behind her, Aoshi knelt, entertaining Akiya with carved wooden birds.

Across the room, Sasuke sat quietly at his desk, scanning a report, his expression calm — but soft in a way Hinata had come to know well.

For the first time in years, they were happy.

Truly happy.

But happiness, Hinata knew, was fragile.

---

That evening, the garden shimmered under starlight. Aoshi sat by the koi pond, watching the still water, the reflection of the moon trembling with each ripple.

Sasuke approached silently and stood beside him. “You’re thinking too much again,” he said, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

Aoshi didn’t look up. “You always say that.”

“And I’m always right.”

After a pause, Aoshi asked, “Do you think they’ll ever see me as one of them? The nobles, the elders — the ones who whisper when they think I can’t hear?”

Sasuke said nothing at first. He looked at his son — really looked — and saw the quiet weight of a boy trying to belong to two worlds.

“Some will,” Sasuke said finally. “Some won’t. That’s the truth of power — it divides as much as it unites.”

Aoshi frowned. “But—”

Sasuke placed a hand on his shoulder, steady, grounding. “Listen to me. You are my son — not because of blood, or title, or what others say. You are my son because you carry the strength of both your mother and me. That’s more noble than any crest carved in stone.”

For the first time in days, Aoshi smiled — small, quiet, but real.

---

Some days later

Lately, something had begun to stir — not in their hearts, but in the air itself.

Servants who avoided her gaze.
The faint sense that someone had entered the nursery at night, though nothing seemed out of place.
Once or twice, she had caught a flicker of movement in the mirror — gone before she could turn.

When she mentioned it to Sasuke, his expression hardened instantly.

“I’ll increase the night patrols,” he said, already standing.

Hinata caught his wrist gently. “Sasu… maybe it’s nothing. I don’t want you to think I’m paranoid.”

He turned to her, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. “You’re not paranoid,” he murmured. “You’re cautious. And I’d rather be cautious than careless — especially now.”

She nodded, though unease still lingered beneath her calm. Something unseen was shifting — and they both could feel it.

---

The morning following morning, the sun filtered through the palace windows, spilling gold over the marble floors, yet a weight clung to the air that even the warmth could not chase away.

Sasuke sat at his desk, fingers drumming lightly against the wood. At first glance, everything seemed ordinary: the palace functioning, the guards on their usual patrols, the twins quietly sleeping in their nursery. Yet his instincts, sharpened over years of vigilance and grief, whispered a warning.

Council orders he had signed the night before were being subtly altered. Guards reassigned to corridors they didn’t normally patrol. Minor supplies redirected without explanation. His jaw tightened. Something was wrong.

Chapter Text

Across the hall, Mikoto received an anonymous report. Missing treasury funds. Not a large sum, but enough to warrant concern. She folded the parchment, her fingers tight around it. She had known for years that Orochimaru, her oldest adviser, was brilliant—but lately his presence felt different. Cold. Calculated. Even his smile, usually reassuring, carried a sharp edge that made her uneasy.

Orochimaru, as if aware of her tension, entered her chambers. “You look concerned, my Queen,” he said, voice soft but measured, his eyes flicking to the report.

“I have reason to be,” Mikoto replied evenly. “Reports of missing funds, misdirected orders… the palace has never been so… chaotic.”

He inclined his head slightly, the faintest smirk curling his lips. “Chaos is merely perspective. Some see it as disorder; others, opportunity.”

Mikoto’s eyes narrowed, but she said nothing. She knew him well enough to read the undertones. Whispered to a new apprentice earlier that week, he had remarked on loyalty and legacy, subtly sowing seeds of doubt about the palace’s stability. Mikoto listened quietly, recording each nuance in her mind. He was plotting something—but what?

---

Days later, across the palace, more signs began to converge: minor council members nervously reporting unusual interactions, Ren intercepting secret messages of Hyuga nobles being stirred into dissent, and Naruto pacing, sensing the subtle unrest in the kingdom.

Sasuke, quietly observing from his chambers, felt the tension gnawing at his chest. He called Ren close.

“Report everything you’ve found,” Sasuke said, calm but resolute.

Ren lowered his voice. “It’s subtle, but coordinated. Someone is moving pieces quietly—bribes, strategic unrest, questioning Aoshi’s legitimacy. Nothing public… yet. But it’s enough to destabilize the palace if left unchecked.”

Sasuke’s eyes darkened. “Hinata must know. And the twins. No one else. Only her. We protect them first. Then we handle the rest.”

---

When he found Hinata, she was arranging the nursery. The soft coos of the twins filled the air, and for a moment he hesitated at the door, watching her. “There’s… something happening,” he said quietly.

“Something is off. We believe whatever it is will strike soon. I need you and the children to stay alert.”

Hinata’s grip on Akiya’s tiny hand tightened. “Then I fight,” she said softly. “Whatever it takes. I will not let them harm our family.”

Sasuke’s expression hardened. “No,” he said sharply. “You’re not fighting, Hinata. Not this time.” His voice lowered, heavy with restrained emotion. “You only just gave birth. The twins are barely three months old. You’re still recovering. I won’t let you put yourself in danger again.”

Her lavender eyes flashed, gentle but firm. “I’m not completely helpless, Sasuke. You know that. I’m their mother—and your queen. Protecting our family is my duty, too.”

He turned away for a moment, jaw tightening. “I already lost you once,” he murmured. “ I won’t risk it again.”
Hinata froze, her heart tightening at his words. She knew exactly what he meant—the night nearly twenty years ago, when the surprise attack had taken her from him, when she’d fallen into the river and everyone had believed she was gone. Even him.

Slowly, she approached him. “Sasu…” she whispered, placing her hands on his cheeks. Their foreheads touched, noses brushing gently. “I understand your fear my love. But what happened then won’t happen again.”
He said nothing, only closed his eyes as if her touch was the only thing keeping him grounded.

“I will come back to you,” she continued softly. “To you and our children. No matter what.”

Sasuke’s voice broke the silence, low and raw. “That’s what you said last time… and I lost you for fifteen years.”

Before he could say more, Hinata silenced him with a kiss—tender, desperate, and full of promises left unspoken. When they finally parted, her breath trembled against his lips.
“I’ll only fight if there’s no other choice,” she whispered.

Reluctantly, Sasuke nodded, resting his forehead against hers once more. He exhaled, the tension in his shoulders easing just enough. When she turned away to check on the twins, he stepped behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close.

In that quiet, fragile moment, they stood together—two souls scarred by loss, bound by love, and determined not to lose each other again.

---

The night had fallen quiet over the palace. After sometime, Sasuke and Hinata sat together in the softly lit room, the twins sleeping peacefully nearby. Sasuke’s brow was furrowed, his hands clasped together as he spoke in a low voice.

“I believe Aoshi is the target,” Sasuke began, his tone carefully measured. “Someone has been filtering information to make others question his legitimacy. Half Hyuga… not born in the palace… that even I didn’t know about him for over a decade. That has planted doubt in the wrong minds.”

Hinata’s hands tightened around the blanket draped over the twins. Her heart sank. One of her deepest fears—the judgment, the whispers about her son’s bloodline and the circumstances of his conception—was coming true. “Sasu…” she whispered, her voice trembling slightly, “I always feared this… that people would judge him, not for who he is, but for what he was born from. The blood he carries, the… secrecy…”

Sasuke reached for her hand, pressing it gently. “I know. That’s why we have to be vigilant. He doesn’t deserve any of this. He’s your son. He’s ours. And nothing they say can change that.”

They spoke quietly, unaware that footsteps had approached the room. Aoshi, intending to say goodnight to his parents, had overheard the conversation. His face drained of color, the weight of their words pressing down on him. He had never considered that people would question him so deeply, or that his very existence could be seen as a flaw. The burden was heavy, more than a sixteen-year-old should carry.

Without thinking, he turned to leave, but in his haste he stumbled over a rug, sending a small wooden ornament crashing to the floor. The noise echoed sharply in the quiet hall.

Sasuke’s head snapped up. “Aoshi?” he called softly, already moving toward the sound. “Wait! It’s me… it’s okay…”

But Aoshi had already darted down the corridor, trying to flee the weight of what he’d heard. Near the palace exit, he collided with a familiar figure.

“Whoa!” Naruto’s hands steadied him. “Hey, slow down. What’s going on?”

Sasuke arrived a moment later, his face tight with concern. “He overheard me and Hinata… I spoke too openly,” Sasuke explained quietly. “I was trying to protect him, but… I fear he feels the full weight of this now.”

“He’s scared, feeling alone… if you try to approach him now, it might overwhelm him. Let me handle this first.”

Naruto found Aoshi sitting down by the pond near the castle gardens.

His eyes glistened with unshed tears as Naruto crouched to meet him at eye level. “I know it feels unfair,” Naruto said gently. “You didn’t choose any of this, and it’s not your fault. You’re your father’s son, Hinata’s son. That means you carry something stronger than blood or titles—you carry love. And that… that’s what defines you.”

Aoshi swallowed hard, the tight knot in his chest slowly loosening. Naruto’s calm, steady presence gave him something he hadn’t expected: permission to breathe, to feel, and to not be ashamed of who he was.

Meanwhile, back at the sitting room, Hinata sat anxiously, breastfeeding Airi, glancing repeatedly toward the door. Sasuke’s hand rested lightly on her shoulder, his own worry mirroring hers, but he remained silent, trusting Naruto to reach their son.

Moments later, the door opened, and Aoshi stepped in. His eyes were red, but his steps were more certain. Sasuke immediately rose, crossing the room in a few strides and enveloping him in a protective, heart-heavy embrace.

“Shh… it’s okay,” Sasuke murmured, his voice breaking slightly. “You’re safe. I’m here… we’re all here.”

Hinata, carefully still holding Airi, got up and wrapped her arms around Aoshi as well. “You’re safe, my son,” she whispered. “We love you… every part of you.”

They stood together for a long moment, breathing as one, the tension of fear slowly ebbing. When Aoshi finally relaxed, Sasuke pulled back slightly, cupping his son’s face. “You were conceived out of love,” he said, steady and firm. “No whisper, no rumor, no doubt can change that. Your bloodline, your heritage… it doesn’t define your worth. You are our son. You have the purest heart, and one day, you will be a dignified king, no matter what anyone else thinks.”

Aoshi’s lips trembled, and a small, grateful smile broke through. “I… I understand, Father,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

Hinata kissed the top of Aoshi’s head, her eyes glistening. “We’ll face everything together,” she said softly. “No one can take that from us.”

For the first time that night, Aoshi felt the heavy weight on his chest lift just a little. He was not alone. He was not a mistake. And he was deeply, unconditionally loved.

Chapter Text

Two days later

The candlelight in Mikoto’s chambers flickered as Orochimaru settled into the chair opposite her, his posture calm yet deliberate. His eyes, dark and calculating, studied her with a mixture of old familiarity and quiet disdain.

“You look well,” Mikoto said evenly, though her mind was alert. Every subtle movement of his fingers, every faint inflection in his tone, she catalogued. She had known him for decades—he was clever, relentless, and utterly loyal only to his own principles.

“I am well,” he replied softly, almost too softly. “But it seems the palace is not. So many cracks… so many flaws.”

Mikoto’s gaze sharpened. “Flaws? Or perhaps your interpretation of them?”

A faint smile touched his lips. “Interpretation… perhaps. But I see what you fail to see. Love, loyalty, mercy… they weaken. They dilute.”

Mikoto’s heart sank, though she did not betray it. “What are you saying, Orochimaru?”

He leaned forward, voice lowering to a whisper that seemed to echo in the room. “You allowed it. You allowed emotion to override duty. Your son… the Uchiha throne… you’ve polluted the line.”

Mikoto’s hands tightened around the armrest. “My son is his own man. He chooses love, yes—but he does not forsake responsibility. He is strong, more than you understand.”

Orochimaru’s gaze did not waver. “Strength without purity is nothing. The Uchiha throne must remain uncompromised. The bloodline… the legacy… it cannot be tainted by sentimentality. By outsiders. By… Hyuga.”

“You dare call my daughter-in-law an outsider? You dare diminish the children she bore?” Her voice rose—severe, incredulous.

He shrugged, as if the weight of his words were trivial. “I am a pragmatist. Emotions cloud judgment. You have failed them all. And so I must correct what you have left unchecked.”

Mikoto’s mind raced. “Correct? You mean—” She stopped herself; the implication was monstrous.

Orochimaru did not wait for her to finish. Instead he reached to the small tray at his side and poured two cups of tea with a smooth, unhurried motion. He set one before her with an almost casual air, his fingers brushing the cup’s rim for a heartbeat longer than necessary.

“You should drink,” he said, soft as silk. “A moment of calm.”

Mikoto hesitated but her years of courtly courtesy warred with suspicion. She lifted the cup and sipped, expecting only warmth and the faint tang of herbs. The liquid was ordinary; the room smelled of smoke and citrus and old wood. She set the cup down, an eyebrow arched in measured warning.

He inclined his head. “Good,” he said. “Then let us speak plainly.”

His words resumed their slow, inexorable train—plans, purity, danger—while a strange lightness gathered at the edges of Mikoto’s vision. She blinked once, then twice. Her thoughts, usually precise and quick, began to lose their shape. The room felt slightly too far away.

“What… did you—” she began, then faltered.

Orochimaru watched her with something bordering on pity. He rose, gliding around the small table in a single, catlike movement. Mikoto tried to stand but her legs would not obey; the world bowed into an angle and the candle flames smeared into halos.

He came to her side and, with the same clinical efficiency he used in the academy’s surgical halls, placed two fingers against the tendon at her neck and pressed in a way that steadied rather than harmed. It was not a blow; it was a measured, inexorable pressure at a point that robbed her of balance and words. The gesture was intimate and chilling in its simplicity—no theatrics, just the quiet certainty of a man who had planned this long before he spoke.

“My dear Mikoto,” he murmured, voice close to her ear, “sentiment was always going to be the undoing.”

Her knees buckled. For a single, fierce instant she reached for him—not for help, but for an answer—and found only the cool sleeve of his coat. The last thing she registered was the small, satisfied tilt of his head as he straightened and backed away.

She slumped onto the chair, eyelids heavy, senses dimming. The candlelight danced once, twice, then the room folded into a soft, encroaching black.

Orochimaru paused at the threshold, listening to the shallow rhythm of breath. He cast one last, slow look back at the fallen matriarch—then turned and left, his footsteps as quiet as the betrayal he had just enacted.

---
They found her before dawn.

Simone — a quiet, efficient attendant who had served the queen’s apartments for years — was on her rounds when she noticed the outer curtains still drawn and the small candle on Mikoto’s dressing table guttering low. The corridor smelled wrong to her; it was too still. She stepped inside and froze.

Mikoto lay slumped in her chair by the window, one hand draped over the armrest, the other clasped uselessly at her chest. Her breath came shallow and fast. Simone dropped to her knees without thinking, cradled the queen’s head, and shouted for help.

Sasuke was at the nursery within moments, Naruto at his heels. Tsunade and Shiro were fetched before the stairwells cooled.

By the time they reached the private apartments the servants had gathered in a small knot of frightened faces.

Simone’s voice trembled as she explained what she’d found: the queen pale and stiff; a faint smell of camphor and almond; a small dark stain on the hem of the curtain; and, tucked beneath Mikoto’s fingers, a scrap of parchment with a single, deliberate mark — a snake coiled into the shape of an old family crest.

Tsunade took one look and began work at once, her hands sure and efficient. She checked Mikoto’s pulse, drew back the thin blanket that covered the queen’s shoulders, and tasted the air. “Poison,” she said flatly, then immediately softened her tone. “Not lethal yet — someone dosed her with something to render her immobile. We need to keep her awake, keep her breathing steady.”

Sasuke crouched beside them, fingers trembling as he pressed cool water to Mikoto’s lips. The sight of his mother so still — the mother who had always been the immovable center of his life — made something fierce and raw burn up in his chest.

Mikoto’s eyes opened slowly, as though the world were being projected back into focus in stubborn shards. Her first look found Sasuke, and for a moment he thought she would smile. Instead she tried to speak and her voice came out as a rough whisper.

“Orochimaru,” she said. The name was a blade.

Sasuke felt his blood go cold. “What—how?”

She blinked, focusing. Simone held the scrap of parchment out to Tsunade. On the page, near the coiled snake, a faint smudge of ink traced a sequence of notations only a longtime court hand would recognize — a cipher Mikoto had kept from the old days when she and Orochimaru had waged wound-forged politics together. It was his mark: subtle, arrogant, impossible to mistake.

“He left his signature,” Mikoto said, each word an effort. “Not an accident. He wanted me found… to send a message.” Her lips quivered, then steadied. “He told me once — when we disagreed — that he would unmake what we built if I ever allowed sentiment to rule my judgments. He is acting. He has been acting.”

Naruto’s jaw set. “You sure it wasn’t staged to look like him?” he asked. He had the look of a man who wanted to lunge into the shadows and tear them down.

Mikoto met his gaze with the old, practiced calm that for years had been her armor. “He’s precise. He leaves signatures because he loves to be understood. He wants us to know it was him. That — and the intercepted letters Ren brought — point the same way.” She closed her eyes briefly and then opened them with clear focus. “You must move. Quietly. Before he escalates.”

Ren had already arrived, breathless from the dawn patrol. He took in the room in a single sweep, eyes flicking to the scrap, to Mikoto, to the servants. “We intercepted small payments to minor nobles,” he said. “Whispers to Hyūga elders. He’s been setting the stage for weeks. This confirms it’s no longer an abstract threat.”

Sasuke stood up, his face hard. “Lock it down. No exits unguarded. Trusted men only. Nar—” He glanced at Naruto, voice rough with more than command. “Tell Aoshi to remain in his chambers. Do not alarm the populace. We take this in the hall — quietly, with proof. No spectacle.”

Naruto’s reply was a single nod; he understood the weight behind the order. Tsunade worked efficiently at Mikoto’s side, giving quiet reassurances even as she spoke the blunt truth. Simone was escorted away with warm hands and a promise that the queen would be kept safe.

Mikoto sat up a little more, fingers lacing in Sasuke’s. “If it is Orochimaru,” she said, voice small but firm, “he is not only betraying me. He is betraying the throne. He believes himself the arbiter of purity. He will make a move to remove Aoshi — to force a correction.”

Sasuke’s hands curled until his knuckles whitened. “Not if I can prevent it.”

By midday, the palace moved like a living thing altered. The lockdown was discreet but absolute: gates closed, couriers recalled, staff checked and rechecked at every turn. Guards changed positions into tighter patterns; trusted courtiers were summoned to the old hall. Sasuke sent runners to Ren’s informants and quietly instructed Naruto to watch the routes a young man might choose if he ran. In private, he sent word to Hinata to keep Aoshi close but calm — not to frighten him with fear he did not deserve.

When they gathered in the old hall of decisions the air was taut with contained fury and precise resolve. Sasuke laid the scrap of parchment on the table between them.

“We act before this becomes public,” he said — voice steady, but carrying the steel of someone finally forced to choose between family and the intrigues that had shaped his life. “Orochimaru is planning something… subtle but coordinated. His aim seems to be Aoshi, though the twins may be at risk if this escalates.”

Mikoto’s eyes narrowed. “He believes he is preserving the Uchiha. That love and bloodlines cannot coexist. He underestimates the family, the bonds we’ve rebuilt.”

Ren added the details they had been intercepting: “He’s stirring old Hyūga factions, paying off minor nobles… creating uncertainty in perception of your heir. His philosophy is that purity cannot be tainted. But he leaves traces. I’ve intercepted some.”

Naruto leaned forward, hands clasped. “Sasuke… if he moves on Aoshi, we can’t hold back. Hinata, the twins… everyone must be protected. Period.”

Sasuke’s jaw tightened. “I know. Hinata already understands. She wants to fight. But this… this is mine to face. I will not let him harm my family.”

Mikoto, now more steady, touched his hand for a heartbeat — a small, fierce gesture of solidarity, guilt and apology braided together. “Then we will be with you,” she said. “We will not cower behind cloak and convention while one man tries to burn this house down.”

The lockdown tightened further. Orders were given, routes sealed, trusted squads named. The palace that had once been a place of routine and politics now readied itself for a test of what mattered most: a son’s right to belong, a queen’s reckoning, a king’s defense of the family he had built from loss.

Outside the old hall, the rain had stopped. The sky was a flat, hard grey — the kind of weather that presses on one’s chest and makes every decision feel irrevocable. Inside, among the papers and murmurs, they prepared to meet the serpent on the terms he had chosen.

Chapter Text

The palace had never felt so quiet. The usual hum of servants and guards seemed to fade into the shadows, replaced by tension that pressed against the marble walls. Sasuke moved through the corridors with purpose, alert and silent, his black hair catching the faint morning light. Ren shadowed him, analyzing every door, every movement of the guards.

Sasuke stopped outside the nursery, watching Akiya and Airi sleeping peacefully in their bassinets. Hinata, already beside them, gently brushed their hair back, whispering soft words of reassurance. She caught Sasuke’s gaze and nodded, her calmness masking the anxiety that threatened to break through.

“They’re safe here,” she whispered. “For now.”

Sasuke placed a hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently. “You stay here. I will handle this.”

Hinata nodded her head, stepping closer, her voice firm. “For now I will stay here. But if the situation escalates I’m not hiding. Whatever comes, I fight with you. For Aoshi. For the twins.”

He sighed with resignation, finally allowing himself a brief smile. “Always brave… just like I remember.”

---

Some days later

By evening, Sasuke and Mikoto approached the old council hall, the air thick with the weight of history. The torches flickered against the stone walls, casting long shadows. The doors were closed when they arrived, but as Sasuke pushed them open, both froze.

Orochimaru was there — calm, unnervingly composed, and unannounced. His sudden presence sent a jolt through the hall. “I knew it would come to this,” he said, voice even, measured, almost rehearsed, as if expecting them to react exactly this way.

Sasuke’s hand went instinctively to his sword. “You weren’t supposed to be here,” he said, narrowing his eyes. His grip tightened. “Your games end tonight.”

Orochimaru tilted his head slightly, his smile thin and unreadable. “Did you think I would announce myself? The serpent moves in silence. I am correcting mistakes you refuse to see. Mikoto, you allowed weakness. And your son… a boy born of sentiment. An anomaly. And you… too blind to protect them without me.”

Mikoto stepped forward, hands clenched at her sides, fury in her eyes. “You’ve always been cold, Orochimaru. But I will not allow your fear of change to dictate my family’s fate.”

He raised his chin, voice calm but slicing. “Fear? No. I act from vision. You, emotion. You will understand… when it’s too late.”

Sasuke drew his sword, and asked his mother to seek refuge, the sword’s weight grounding him, heavier than any crown he had ever carried. “You threaten the innocent. You’ve underestimated what love can do. That is your mistake.”

---

As the dialogue in the council hall escalated, quiet alarms echoed through the palace, subtle but insistent. In the nursery, a squad of mercenaries hired by Orochimaru had attempted to slip past the main gates.

Hinata was already prepared. Her sword rested in her hands, eyes sharp, muscles tense. Though years had passed since her last real combat, her instincts were honed; the knowledge of every corridor, every angle in the palace, had not faded.

Yet she was not alone. Elite guards surrounded the nursery, forming a protective perimeter around the twins. They were highly trained, handpicked by Sasuke for this precise contingency. Even so, the intruders were skilled, and Hinata knew that only a combination of strategy, skill, and determination would keep her children safe.

Aoshi stayed close to her side, courage mingling with fear, watching as his mother moved with a deadly grace that made him realize how capable she truly was. Naruto and Ren, racing alongside the guards, prepared to intercept the threat before it could reach the twins.

With a calm breath, Hinata moved into action. Each step, each swing, was measured, defensive, and precise — a dance of desperation and protection. The mercenaries fell one by one, their attempts to breach the nursery thwarted by both her skill and the vigilant guards at her side.
---

Back in the council hall, Sasuke and Orochimaru circled one another. No flashy movements, just the cold, sharp edge of steel, and the years of philosophy behind it.

Orochimaru struck first, testing Sasuke’s defenses. “You think love redeems you? It makes you soft. It will be your end.”

Sasuke countered, parrying with precision. “No. It made me human. And that’s something you’ll never understand.”

Orochimaru lunged again, faster this time, aiming to wound, to break him emotionally. But Sasuke’s swordsmanship, honed by years of loss and longing, met every strike with calm focus.

“You cling to sentiment, and that is your weakness,” Orochimaru hissed. “I am the future of the throne! You are blind!”

The air in the hall was heavy with history and expectation. Torches flickered, shadows shifting across the walls like silent witnesses. Sasuke tightened his grip on his sword, every muscle coiled, aware that Orochimaru’s presence was more than a threat—it was a test of everything he had fought to protect: his family, his ideals, his legacy.

Orochimaru moved with unnerving calm, circling Sasuke with a predator’s patience. His words were precise, cutting deeper than any blade.

“That family will destroy you. Bloodlines must remain pure. Emotion is weakness.”

Sasuke’s eyes burned. “You call my love weakness, but it is the strongest thing I have. You will never understand loyalty, sacrifice, or the bonds that make a man.”

Blades clashed. Each strike carried the weight of years—Orochimaru’s precision and cold calculation against Sasuke’s controlled fury, honed by responsibility and devotion. Sparks flew, the echo of metal on metal ringing through the hall like a grim symphony. Every movement was a negotiation between philosophy and instinct, past and present.

As the fight progressed, Orochimaru attempted to exploit Sasuke’s hesitations—memories of Hinata, of Aoshi, of the twins, flickering in his mind. Each feint, each cut, was designed to provoke doubt. But Sasuke channeled those memories as strength rather than weakness, remembering how far he had come, what he had rebuilt after fifteen long years.

The turning point came when Orochimaru miscalculated, overestimating the weight of his own ideology. Sasuke’s blade struck true—not in anger, but with clarity and purpose. Orochimaru staggered, and for the first time, his calm mask cracked, revealing a flicker of awe, almost respect, at what Sasuke represented: a man who could hold both power and love, reason and compassion.

Cornered, Orochimaru activated a self-destructive mechanism, his final act of defiance. The explosion was monumental, a violent burst of fire that consumed the hall. Sasuke barely managed to shield himself, sustaining deep wounds across his arms, shoulders, and torso. Pain coursed through him, but adrenaline and willpower kept him upright.

When the smoke cleared, Orochimaru lay still, a faint smile etched on his face—serene, almost contemplative. He had fought for his vision until the end, but even in death, he had been defeated not merely by skill, but by the unwavering human bonds Sasuke represented.

---

The smoke from the council hall still lingered, curling like ghostly fingers through the corridors of the palace. The echoes of metal, shouts, and the explosion had faded, leaving an eerie silence that seemed to press against every wall. Sasuke stumbled out first, blood streaking his arms, sweat glistening on his forehead, but his eyes scanned frantically for what mattered most: his family.

In the nursery, Hinata had just finished repelling the last of the mercenaries. Her arms ached from sword strikes, and her heart raced from fear for Aoshi and the twins. When she saw Sasuke stagger into the room, all the exhaustion, the adrenaline, the worry collapsed into relief and anguish.

“Father—Sasuke!” Aoshi’s voice cracked, his face pale, eyes wide with worry and awe.

Sasuke’s knees buckled, but Hinata’s hands were immediately on him, steadying him. He sank into her embrace, and for the first time since the attack, his composure faltered. Tears—silent, stubborn—slid down his face. “I… I thought I lost you,” he whispered, voice hoarse.

Hinata pressed her forehead to his, her own eyes glimmering. “You’re here. You’re alive. We’re all safe… together.”

Aoshi ran forward, hesitating at first, then flinging himself into Sasuke’s arms. “I was so scared, Father! I thought… I thought something happened to you!”

Sasuke hugged him tightly, feeling the weight of his son’s fear, the burdens of years spent apart, the years lost and stolen. “Shh… it’s okay, Aoshi. It’s over. I’m here. Always.” His voice trembled—not from weakness, but from relief, gratitude, and love.

Hinata, went to get the twins carefully and stepped closer. “You did it… you protected them,” she murmured softly, brushing sweat-soaked hair from Sasuke’s temple. “All of us.”

Mikoto arrived, breathless, seeing her son kneeling with his child pressed against him, Hinata beside him with the twins. For the first time in years, she allowed herself to let down her guard. “Sasuke,” she said quietly, voice trembling, “you… you’ve done more than survive. You’ve protected everything I feared could be lost. I am proud of you.”

Sasuke looked up at her, bloodied, battered, but resolute. “I couldn’t fail them. Not again.” His gaze fell to Hinata, who gave him a reassuring smile, her hands steadying the twins. “We’re together. That’s what matters.”

A long silence stretched, broken only by the soft coos of the babies and Aoshi’s quiet sobs. Naruto appeared at the door, a small, knowing smile on his face. “Looks like you survived the impossible, Sasuke. I always knew you would. But… wow, you’re a mess.”

Sasuke gave a weak half-smile. “I’ve fought, Naruto… but the battle isn’t over. It just changes shape now.”

Hinata rested her hand on his cheek, gently guiding him down to sit. “Now, you rest. I’ll be here. We all will.”

For the first time in years, Sasuke allowed himself to let go completely. The weight of fear, guilt, and responsibility shifted into something gentler—hope, and love anchored in family. Aoshi curled against his side, the twins swaddled safely in Hinata’s arms, Mikoto standing nearby, pride and relief radiating from her. Naruto leaned against the doorway, silently watching, allowing the moment to breathe.

Sasuke whispered softly, more to himself than anyone else, “We survived… together.”

Hinata kissed the top of his head, murmuring, “Always together. Always.”

---

Sasuke lay in their chamber, the once-pristine room now filled with hushed voices and dim light. His right arm was wrapped tightly from shoulder to wrist, bandages stained faintly pink. His left side rose and fell unevenly — proof that even victory came at a cost.

Hinata sat beside him, her face pale with worry, her eyes swollen from tears she’d refused to shed in front of anyone else. Now that the chaos had faded, reality pressed down on her like a weight she couldn’t escape. She had almost lost him — again.

She dipped a cloth into a basin of warm water and gently cleaned the sweat from his brow. “You should be resting,” he murmured, his voice rough, weak.

“I’ll rest when you do,” she replied softly, wringing the cloth, her movements tender and slow. “You scared me, Sasuke.”

He gave a faint smile, though it barely reached his eyes. “I scared myself.” His gaze shifted to her hands — the same hands that had wielded a sword only hours ago. “You fought.”

Hinata paused, lowering her head slightly. “I had to. For our children. For you.” She looked at him again, her eyes trembling with emotion. “It had been years since I touched a blade, but the thought of losing any of you… it brought back everything I once was.”

Sasuke reached weakly for her hand, his calloused fingers brushing hers. “You were always strong,” he said quietly. “Stronger than I deserved.”

Her lips parted, but words wouldn’t come. She squeezed his hand instead, letting the silence say what her voice couldn’t.

At the door, Aoshi appeared hesitantly. His usually confident eyes were red from crying, his face blotched with guilt and fear. “Ma…Father…” he said quietly.

Hinata smiled faintly and beckoned him closer. “Come here, Aoshi.”

He crossed the room in uncertain steps and knelt beside the bed. Sasuke turned his head slightly, managing a tired smile. “You protected your siblings. I’m proud of you.”

“I wanted to do more,” Aoshi whispered, his voice breaking. “If I’d been stronger—”

Sasuke cut him off gently. “You were brave. That’s what matters. No one should bear the weight you tried to carry alone.”

Hinata leaned in, cupping her son’s cheek. “You are enough, my love. You always have been.”

From the cradle, one of the twins stirred — a soft cry that filled the quiet room with fragile life. Hinata rose, gathering the baby into her arms, rocking gently as she hummed a tune so old it seemed to belong to another lifetime.

Sasuke watched her in silence. The image of her — hair loose, eyes tender, their child pressed against her chest — was the most peaceful thing he had ever seen. “You saved us all,” he murmured, barely audible.

Hinata looked down at him with a soft smile. “No, Sasuke. You saved yourself this time.”

She returned to his side, sitting carefully so the baby could rest against her shoulder. Her free hand found his, their fingers intertwining like the roots of an ancient tree.

Later, when Aoshi had gone and the candles had burned low, Hinata lay beside him, her head on his chest. His breathing was shallow but steady, and her hand rested over his heart.

Sasuke whispered into her hair, voice breaking with quiet sincerity. “You were the light in all this darkness, Hinata. You always were. Even when I didn’t deserve to see it.”

Hinata’s eyes shimmered as she looked up at him. “And you were my home, even when I didn’t have one to go back to.”

He kissed her forehead gently, the gesture full of everything words couldn’t capture — apology, love, devotion, gratitude.

Outside, the moonlight spilled over the palace gardens, washing away the last traces of smoke. The night was silent once more, but this time it wasn’t the silence of fear — it was peace.

For the first time in years, Sasuke closed his eyes without the shadow of guilt hovering above him.

And with Hinata’s hand still clasped in his, the slow rhythm of their breathing intertwined — a quiet promise that the worst was over, and a new beginning had finally arrived.

---

THE END

Chapter Text

Three Years Later

The seasons had turned three times since the night the palace burned with chaos.
Now, peace lived in its corridors — not the brittle kind born of fear, but one that came from lives rebuilt, healed, and shared.

Morning light spilled through the vast windows of the royal nursery. The soft chatter of two small voices echoed as the twins — Akiya and Airi — toddled around the room, their laughter bright and effortless. Airi, lively and daring, had already managed to climb halfway onto a chair far too tall for her. Akiya, ever the quieter one, held onto Hinata’s skirts, watching his sister’s adventures with wide, cautious eyes.

“Your daughter’s plotting again,” Sasuke murmured from the doorway, crossing his arms with mock exasperation.

Hinata smiled over her shoulder. “I wonder where she gets that from.”

Sasuke bent down, scooping Airi into his arms, and the little girl squealed in delight. “From her father, of course,” he said, pressing a kiss to her hair as she patted his cheeks with tiny hands. “She knows how to get what she wants.”

Hinata laughed softly — a sound that filled the room with the same warmth it had when he first heard it so many years ago. “And you always give in.”

“Always,” he admitted without shame. “How could I not?”

Akiya tugged on Hinata’s hand, seeking to be lifted too. She crouched, brushing his soft black hair from his eyes. “You’re getting so big, Akiya,” she whispered. “One day, you’ll protect your sister, won’t you?”

The little boy nodded solemnly, nestling his head into her shoulder — shy, gentle, so much like her.

——

Outside the open windows, the gardens were alive with life. Mikoto’s laughter could be heard faintly as she oversaw the twins’ play area with a few attendants. Despite her regal grace, she’d taken to being a grandmother with unexpected enthusiasm. She often joked that the twins had given her back her youth — or at least the will to scold everyone as if they were still children.

One afternoon, as Hinata watched her mother-in-law dote on the twins, Mikoto teased with her usual elegant mischief:
“You and Sasuke should give me another grandchild before I grow too old to chase after them.”

Hinata blushed, and Mikoto only laughed harder. But later that day, when alone in the shrine room, the queen lit incense before her late husband’s memorial tablet.
Her voice trembled, warm and proud.
“Fugaku,” she whispered, “our family is whole again. You would be proud — of our son, of his heart… of the peace he’s built. I know I am.”

---

In another corner of the world, beneath the quiet branches of the woods, stood the cabin that had once been Hinata’s place of exile and solitude. Now, it was something else — a retreat.
Every summer, the royal family visited with Tsunade, who had chosen to stay in the palace most of the year to help raise the twins.

That morning, she sat on the porch with a cup of tea, watching the children run barefoot through the grass while Hinata and Sasuke repaired an old swing Aoshi had once used.

“You’re sentimental, you know that?” Tsunade called, smirking.

Hinata smiled. “You taught me to hold on to what matters.”

Tsunade’s expression softened. “And you finally got everything you deserved, kid.”

---

Meanwhile, elsewhere in the east, life had carried on for their old friends.
A year after her royal divorce, Ino had married Shikamaru in a small but joyful ceremony. The following spring, she’d given birth to a baby boy — a bright-eyed child who already showed hints of his father’s calm and his mother’s wit.

Naruto had finally stopped being the bachelor everyone teased him for. He’d fallen, quite unexpectedly, for Hikari — the town tailor known for her laughter and for never caring that he was a nobleman. Their relationship was the subject of Sasuke’s endless teasing.

“She must be some kind of saint,” Sasuke had said one evening with a sly grin. “Anyone who can handle you deserves a medal.”

Naruto only laughed. “Says the man who’s bewitched by his daughter’s puppy eyes.”

Sasuke smirked. “That’s different. Airi’s a menace in disguise. Hikari still has time to escape.”

They both laughed until Hinata entered, arms crossed but smiling knowingly. “Both of you are impossible,” she sighed. But her eyes were full of affection — for the men who’d once been broken boys, now family in every sense.

---

That night, the world seemed to breathe with them. The soft glow of lantern light brushed over their skin as they found each other — immersed in a passionate dance of souls while grunts, whimpers and sweat “I love you’s” disrupted the silence of their night, as if rediscovering something sacred.

Sasuke’s touch traced the path of memory and promise; Hinata’s fingers lingered against his cheek, grounding him in the present. Their breaths mingled — uneven, tender, full of all the words they no longer needed.

When at last they stilled, foreheads pressed together, their hands locked in quiet devotion. Between them, there was no need for speech — only the pulse of shared life, the warmth of love that had endured time, loss, and the world itself.

In that silence, they belonged entirely to one another — two souls finally at rest, in a peace they had fought so hard to find.

---

As for Aoshi — now nineteen — he had become one of the most accomplished swordsmen in the kingdom. His technique was precise, graceful, and filled with heart — something Sasuke often called “his mother’s resolve and his father’s patience.”

In tournaments and diplomatic duels alike, he had proven himself again and again. The murmurs that once shadowed his birth had quieted over time. He no longer carried the weight of Orochimaru’s lies. Instead, people spoke of his honor, his discipline, his humility.

Still, Hinata sometimes found herself watching him with a mother’s quiet ache — remembering the boy who once clung to her hand.

“You worry too much,” he said to her one evening, gently resting his palm over hers.

“I know,” she whispered. “It’s a habit I can’t break.”

“You don’t need to,” he said, smiling softly. “You’re my mother. That’s enough.”

---

The morning began softly, wrapped in the scent of blooming jasmine and the laughter of small voices echoing through the palace.

Hinata sat by the nursery window, sunlight brushing against her hair. Akiya stood at her knee, his tiny fingers clutching the hem of her dress — just as he always did whenever she tried to leave. His black eyes, deep and wide like Sasuke’s, shimmered with quiet worry.

“Don’t go, Mama,” he murmured, voice small.

Hinata smiled tenderly, kneeling so their eyes met. “Just for a few days, my heart. I’ll be back before you finish counting the stars.”

He frowned, bottom lip trembling. “But I don’t like when you’re gone.”

Before she could answer, a delighted squeal cut through the air.

“Papa!”

Airi barreled across the room — her blue-black curls bouncing — and launched herself into Sasuke’s arms. She giggled as he caught her effortlessly, spinning her once before resting her on his hip.

“Someone’s full of energy,” Sasuke said, smirking.

Airi puffed her cheeks, pretending to be serious. “That’s because Mama made pancakes!”

Hinata laughed softly from across the room, and for a brief moment, the world felt like sunlight and home.

Mikoto entered then, her expression warm but firm. “Alright, you two. The carriage is ready, and if you wait any longer, these little ones will chain you to the nursery.”

Tsunade followed her with an amused smile. “We’ll look after them. Go, before Akiya glues himself to Hinata’s skirts again.”

Akiya’s cheeks flushed red, but he held tighter anyway. Hinata kissed his forehead, whispering, “Be brave for Grandma, hm?”

He nodded reluctantly.

Sasuke bent to whisper something to Airi — something that made her eyes brighten and her grin widen with pride.

Then, hand in hand, Sasuke and Hinata walked down the marble hall toward the waiting carriage. Behind them, Airi waved both arms frantically while Akiya clutched Mikoto’s sleeve, his little face pressed into her shoulder.

When the doors closed, Hinata exhaled softly. “I already miss them.”

Sasuke’s fingers tightened around hers. “They’ll be fine. They have the best parts of us both.”

Hinata smiled faintly. “Let’s hope they didn’t inherit your stubbornness.”

He arched a brow. “You mean our stubbornness.”

Their laughter followed them into the open road.

---

The journey stretched long and quiet, the landscape unfolding in shades of green and gold. By late afternoon, the scent of salt hung in the wind, carried from somewhere just beyond the rolling hills.

Hinata leaned forward, catching the sound — distant and low, like a heartbeat beneath the earth.

And then, at the crest of the last rise, she saw it.

The sea.

An endless expanse of shimmering silver-blue, breathing and alive beneath the falling sun.

Her breath caught in her throat. “It’s… so vast,” she whispered.

Sasuke dismounted beside her, watching her with quiet affection. “You remember,” he said softly, “the night I promised to bring you here?”

Hinata turned toward him, eyes glistening. “Of course I do. You said it right before I disappeared… before everything changed.”

Sasuke nodded slowly. “ I said that I would one day take you there when I became king, you said you would make me fulfill my promise, you also mentioned that you wanted to stand where the world never ends. I swore I’d take you.”

Hinata’s lips trembled into a smile. “And after all these years… you did.”

He took her hand. “It took longer than I intended. But I don’t forget promises.”

Together they walked down to the shore. The sand was cool beneath their feet, soft as silk, the tide curling around them like an embrace.

Hinata slipped off her shoes and laughed as the waves reached her ankles. “It’s cold!”

Sasuke watched her, that rare smile tugging at his lips. “Still want to run back to the carriage?”

She shook her head, eyes wide with wonder. “No. I want to stay. I want to remember this sound forever.”

He stepped closer until his shadow mingled with hers. “You said once that you wanted to see something endless,” he murmured. “Now you have.”

Hinata turned to him, her eyes soft with emotion. “And I finally understand what you meant t when you spoke of the sea. It doesn’t end — and neither does love.”

Sasuke’s breath hitched — the words cutting deep and gentle at once.

He reached up, brushing away a loose strand of her hair. “You’re still the same girl my father introduced me to that afternoon,” he said quietly. “Only now, you’re everything I ever dreamed you’d become.”

Hinata smiled through the tears that glimmered in her eyes. “And you’re still the boy who looked at me like I was the only one who existed.”

The horizon burned gold and rose as the sun began to fall. Sasuke leaned down, resting his forehead against hers, and the world seemed to still.

“Always and forever,” he whispered — the same promise that had carried them through time, loss, and fate.

Hinata closed her eyes, her hand finding his heart. “Always and forever,” she whispered back.

The waves rolled on, washing their footprints away, but leaving something deeper behind — a peace that felt like eternity.

Later, as twilight settled, Hinata knelt by the tide, collecting three small shells.

“For Aoshi, Akiya and Airi,” she said softly.

Sasuke took them from her hands, nodding. “So they’ll know their parents kept their promise.”

The wind rose, carrying the scent of the sea and the sound of laughter from long ago.

And there, where the sea met the sky, the Uchiha King and the now queen who had once been only a servant stood side by side — no crowns, no titles, only hearts that had finally come home.

The sea was endless.
And so was their destiny.

---

Chapter Text

The morning light drifted through the shōji screens like liquid gold, soft and slow. The Uchiha palace breathed quietly, still heavy with the scent of early spring. Plum petals fluttered across the veranda, their pale pink hue catching in the folds of Hinata’s sleeve as she knelt beside the low table, pouring tea.

A soft tug on her kimono made her pause.

Akiya was there, as always — small hands gripping the hem of her lavender robe, black eyes wide and still heavy with sleep. His dark hair was a little tousled, a faint curl at the ends where it never quite obeyed the brush.

“Good morning, Akiya,” Hinata said gently, setting the teapot aside. “Did you sleep well?”

He nodded, but instead of answering, he pressed his face against her arm, hiding from the morning light.

Hinata smiled, her free hand smoothing the back of his head. “You dreamed again, didn’t you?”

A faint hum escaped him. “I dreamed… that the koi in the pond were flying,” he murmured, voice muffled against her sleeve. “They had wings like paper lanterns.”

“How beautiful,” she said, her eyes soft. “Perhaps we’ll go feed them after breakfast, hmm?”

He peeked up, hopeful. “Can I bring rice cakes?”

She laughed quietly. “If you promise not to eat them all yourself.”

From the other room came a sudden burst of laughter — bright, wild, unmistakably Airi’s.

“Papa, faster! You’re too slow!”

Sasuke’s voice followed, calm but faintly amused. “If I go any faster, little one, you’ll fall off.”

“No, I won’t!” she declared with a giggle that turned into a shriek of delight as her father spun her lightly in the air.

Hinata turned just in time to see them enter — Airi perched on Sasuke’s shoulders, her tiny hands clutching his hair like reins, while he walked with the composed patience of a man long used to being conquered by his daughter.

Akiya peeked out from behind Hinata’s sleeve, half-hiding, half-curious.

Airi grinned down at him. “You’re hiding again! You’re going to grow roots if you don’t move, Akiya!”

Akiya pouted, clinging tighter to Hinata. “I don’t want to grow roots.”

Sasuke stopped beside them, his usual calm softened by quiet affection. “Then perhaps you should listen to your sister,” he said, lowering Airi gently to the floor. “Come. Let’s have breakfast.”

Airi immediately clambered onto his lap once he sat, chattering endlessly about the dragonfly she’d seen by the pond and how she wanted to catch one “for Papa to train.”

The twins’ chatter filled the room — Airi’s voice like sunlight, Akiya’s soft and hesitant. Sasuke ate in silence, though every so often his lips twitched at their antics.

When Hinata reached for the teapot, Akiya moved to help, his small hands steadying the cup before she poured. Sasuke noticed — and for a moment, pride flickered quietly in his eyes.

“You’re careful,” Sasuke said softly. “Just like your mother.”

Akiya’s cheeks turned pink. “I just didn’t want her to spill.”

Hinata smiled, brushing his hair back from his forehead. “You’re a thoughtful boy.”

Airi huffed. “I’m thoughtful too! I gave Papa all my fish!”

Sasuke looked down at the small, dry morsel of fish now sitting on his plate — the one Airi had already nibbled the corners of — and arched an eyebrow.

“Thank you,” he said dryly.

Hinata covered her mouth to hide her laugh.

---

Later that day, the garden came alive with soft wind and petals. The koi pond glittered under the sun, each ripple reflecting their movements like calligraphy in water.

Aoshi sat near the veranda steps, his black hair tied back loosely, his sword resting across his knees as he polished it with quiet focus. He looked up when Airi darted past him, nearly tripping over her own feet as she chased a butterfly.

“Careful,” he said mildly. “You’ll fall.”

“I won’t!” she shouted — and fell immediately, landing in the grass with a small thump.

Aoshi sighed, setting the sword aside before rising to help her up. “You’re exactly like Father when he was your age.”

Sasuke, who had appeared behind him with a faintly skeptical look, replied evenly, “I wasn’t that reckless.”

Aoshi smirked. “Mother says otherwise.”

Hinata, arranging freshly washed linens nearby, didn’t deny it. “You used to climb the training walls before you could even hold the sword properly,” she said, amused.

Sasuke folded his arms. “That’s different.”

“How?” Aoshi teased. “Because you didn’t fall?”

“Because I had balance,” Sasuke countered, and Airi burst into giggles.

“Papa doesn’t fall because Mama always catches him,” she declared proudly.

The statement silenced them all for a heartbeat before Hinata, cheeks warming, softly laughed. “Oh, dear.”

Sasuke looked away, ears faintly red. Aoshi smirked and returned to his polishing.

Akiya, meanwhile, sat beside Hinata, feeding crumbs to the koi. His small feet dangled over the pond’s edge, eyes fixed on the slow, deliberate movements of the fish.

“Do they ever stop swimming, Mama?” he asked suddenly.

Hinata shook her head. “No, love. They swim their whole lives.”

He frowned, thoughtful. “Don’t they get tired?”

She smiled gently. “Maybe. But the water keeps them moving. Just like love keeps people going.”

He thought about that for a long moment, then nodded slowly, resting his head against her arm.

Sasuke, watching from a few steps away, said nothing — but his gaze softened.

---

By evening, the palace glowed under the amber light of paper lanterns. The twins sat curled together on a blanket beneath the plum tree, a story scroll open between them.

Hinata’s voice carried through the soft air — low and melodic as she read aloud. Airi’s head rested in her lap, eyes wide and bright, while Akiya leaned into her shoulder, listening quietly, his hand clutching hers.

Aoshi watched from the veranda steps, arms crossed loosely, while Sasuke sat beside him, gazing out at the small, perfect scene.

“You know,” Aoshi said lightly, “when they’re older, she’s going to have both of them wrapped around her little finger.”

“She already does,” Sasuke said dryly, though the fondness beneath his tone was unmistakable.

Aoshi chuckled. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

Sasuke exhaled, his eyes following the way Airi laughed at one of Hinata’s softer voices. “No,” he said quietly. “It’s not bad.”

“Then what’s wrong?”

Sasuke didn’t answer right away. The wind stirred the blossoms, scattering petals across the pond. “Nothing,” he said finally. “I just wish I could freeze this moment.”

Aoshi looked at him — at the man who had once been the brooding prince, the warrior haunted by loss — and saw something different now: a husband, a father, at peace.

“You’ve done well,” Aoshi said simply.

Sasuke’s mouth curved slightly. “So have you.”

---

After the story ended, the twins refused to sleep.

“Just one more, Mama,” Airi begged, eyes wide.

Akiya clutched her sleeve in agreement, though his eyelids drooped. “Please, one more.”

Hinata chuckled softly, brushing a stray hair from Akiya’s face. “If I read one more, you’ll both fall asleep before I finish.”

“That’s fine!” Airi said brightly, climbing into her mother’s lap.

Sasuke leaned against the doorframe, watching them — Airi snuggled into Hinata’s arm, Akiya curling into her other side, the faint rise and fall of their breathing already slowing.

He stepped closer, kneeling beside them. “They’ll sleep better if you stay a little longer,” he murmured.

Hinata smiled, her voice barely above a whisper. “You say that as if you don’t want to.”

He gave a quiet huff, settling beside her. “I wasn’t the one reading fairy tales.”

“No,” she said softly. “You just live them.”

He shot her a look — half reproach, half amusement — but his arm slipped easily around her waist.

Airi stirred, mumbling something against Hinata’s sleeve. “Papa…”

“Yes?” Sasuke whispered.

Airi didn’t open her eyes. “Don’t… let go.”

Sasuke froze for a moment, then gently rested his hand over her small one. “Never,” he said softly.

Akiya, already asleep, shifted slightly, his small fingers still clinging to Hinata’s kimono.

For a long while, neither parent moved. The lantern light flickered, casting their shadows across the tatami floor — a quiet family cocooned in peace.

---

Later, when the twins were carried to bed and the night deepened into stillness, Sasuke and Hinata stood by the open veranda.

The moon hung low, reflected in the pond. Fireflies drifted lazily through the reeds.

Hinata leaned against him, her head resting beneath his chin. “They’re growing so fast,” she murmured. “Sometimes I wish they’d stay this small forever.”

Sasuke’s arm tightened around her shoulders. “If they did, we’d never see who they’re meant to become.”

She smiled faintly. “You sound like your mother.”

He huffed softly. “Mikoto’s wisdom is inescapable.”

Hinata looked up at him, her expression tender. “Still, I think even she’d agree… this is happiness.”

He turned to her fully then, the faint light catching the curve of her face, the softness of her gaze. “Yes,” he said simply. “It is.”

A faint sound interrupted them — Airi’s sleepy voice from the next room. “Papa… Mama…”

Hinata smiled. “She talks even in her dreams.”

Sasuke shook his head lightly. “She gets that from you.”

“I think she gets it from Naruto,” she teased. “But she has your stubbornness.”

He arched an eyebrow. “And Akiya?”

“Your silence,” she said, her tone warm. “But your heart too.”

He said nothing for a moment, then brushed his fingers through her hair. “Then I have no regrets.”

They stood there as the night deepened — the sound of crickets rising like a lullaby, the faint scent of plum blossoms still clinging to the air.

It wasn’t a moment of grandeur or legend, no war or vow — just the simple, profound peace of a family whole.

And as Sasuke looked at Hinata — the woman who had once stood beneath the moon, promising him “always and forever” — he felt the quiet truth settle deep within him:

He had once thought love was forged in struggle, that devotion meant endurance. But here, in the laughter of his children, in the warmth of her beside him, he finally understood.

Love, at its truest, was this — soft, unspoken, ordinary. And eternal.

---