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It was a tough mission, not tougher than he was used to, but still draining.
He didn't feel the hurt in his body the way his friends felt, thanks to the fox's chakra. But he could feel his body heavier, his steps slower. He knew it hurt, even if it didn't hurt like it was supposed to.
He just wanted to go home. He was hoping he could avoid all his friends.
Some people die during missions, people you never knew, never got a chance to even ask their names. Their age. If they knew better. You get used to death but...you don't, really. As a shinobi, you take no chances. A lot say "I didn't have a choice"; when they did. There's always choices, not always good ones. But there's always a chance to choose.
Could he save more lives if he tried? If time wasn't running out? If he maybe asked for a name, for a story? Would that change anything? Or would they still die by his hands, and the name only come back to haunt him?
A boy died. A boy who was trying to kill him. A boy who looked so much like Konohamaru. Younger than himself, maybe older than Kono.
He died smiling, like it was honorable.
It was sickening.
He felt his vision blurring, his face getting hot. He was trying to breathe but it was so hard, all of a sudden. He walked faster, avoiding crowded streets, with his head lowered.
His hands were shaking when he brought the key to the lock. He was still trying to breathe. To think.
Somehow he opened the door and walked in, but he just let it slam after him. He didn't close it. He could barely move.
He fell into the sofa, throwing his head back, trying to bring air to his lungs. His hands went to his heart, beating so fast it surprised him.
Maybe he should go to the hospital?
But he couldn't, he couldn't move.
He was scared. Panicking, actually. He couldn't think properly. He thought about the boy, involuntarily. He thought about Konohamaru dying. He thought about a drunk Kiba asking him if he would let his kids be ninjas, if he had them. He thought about himself, as a kid, dying alone in a forest.
He couldn't have heard the door opening or Hinata's voice, soft and soothing, when she walked in. He was only listening to his own heartbeat and to the fox angrily telling him to calm down, which only made him more nervous.
He almost fell to the ground when he felt a cold hand on his own; his eyes opened and he stared dumbfounded at a concerned Hinata, looking like she was ill too.
Was he ill?
He could barely think about that. He just knew it was hard to breathe, so hard.
"Don't do that. You're putting to much force into inhaling." Her hand held both of his, making his body turn to her. "Inhale and exhale, slowly." She did it herself so he could follow.
He did, once, twice. He kept doing it until he didn't feel like dying. But his heart wouldn't calm down and his hands wouldn't stop shaking. Maybe something was wrong with him. Maybe he had been poisoned...
"Hey. Slowly."
His breathing was erratic again and he kept overthinking it. Was he dying? But wouldn't Hinata be more concerned? What if she didn't notice it was that bad?
"You're okay." She affirmed, like she was reading his mind. "You just need to keep breathing. I'm right here. Nothing will happen to you."
She wouldn't lie to him, so he nodded. He still couldn't relax, though. It was like his body was out of his own control.
"Hey, look at me."
He looked directly at her eyes. He liked them a lot. They always seemed to change color.
"What's the color of my eyes?" She asked, again, like she was reading his mind.
"It...changes." His voice sounded weak, strange, like he was wounded. He didn't like that.
"What's the name of my mother?" She inquired again.
"Tatsumi." He felt his throat dry. "Hinata, why-"
"What's my favorite color?"
"Purple."
"What's the thing you always forget?" This time he could see a smile on her face, it almost made him smile too. But his whole body was protesting.
"The...the ramen cups in the sink..."
"What else?" She was merciless, even when he was like this.
"I forget to bring the books...the ones Kakashi sends me...t-to study."
His shoulders relaxed while he thought about Iruka calling him, throwing a tantrum because he forgot some books. Whatever.
"Name one thing I love."
Easy.
"Cinnamon rolls." He responded, rolling his eyes.
"Name one thing I hate."
He frowned.
He couldn't think about something she hated. Did she hate something? Someone? She couldn't bring herself to hate Neji when he hated her and tried to kill her. She didn't hate her dad. She didn't even hate Pain or Madara or any of the guys she was supposed to hate.
He couldn't say he was much different, he thought, smiling, arching his head.
Unless...
He brought one hand to her waist, tickling her, making her jump away from him with a yelp.
"Stop!" She whined, eyes wide, lips pursed.
"You're a baby." He couldn't help but laugh.
"I'm happy you're feeling bettet after bullying me."
He blinked. He was feeling better. He didn't feel the best he could, he was still shaking a bit, and there was a lot of intrusive thoughts on his head. But he could breathe, and that was more than enough.
"How did you know I was back?"
"Sai said he saw you at the gates, but you didn't report to Kakashi." She poked his stomach lightly.
"Oh shit, I forgot." He felt anxious again. He didn't really want to go there right now. He just wanted to lay down for the rest of the day.
"It's okay, you can go tomorrow. I can go with you to explain." She got closer to him, her head almost touching his.
He nodded, clinging to her hand, letting their heads touch. feeling her hair on his cheek. She smelled like rain. He wanted to cling to her until she was all he could smell and feel and see.
"Thank you." He closed his eyes, breathing like she told him, feeling her nod quietly, the image of the boy smiling smiling still in his head. But he could breathe. "Hey, name one thing I love."
"Ramen." She answered.
He kissed her forehead, breathing her in.
"You."