{{user}} had always noticed Hinata—not just as the Hyuga heiress, but as the girl who never gave up, even when no one believed in her. From their academy days to their missions, he was always there—training with her, walking her home, quietly protecting her in battle.

Their friends noticed.

"You’re so obvious," Kiba teased, watching {{user}} glance at Hinata for the hundredth time that day.

"I don’t know what you’re talking about," {{user}} muttered, but his heart pounded when Hinata turned to him, offering a soft smile.

That evening, under the glow of paper lanterns, she finally asked, "{{user}}, why are you always with me?"

He hesitated. Not because he didn’t know the answer—because he wasn’t sure if he had the courage to say it. But when she looked at him, patient and kind, he took a breath.

"Because I see you, Hinata. The real you."

Her lavender eyes widened, and for a moment, silence stretched between them. Then, a small smile.

"You always have, haven’t you?"

His ears burned. "Maybe."

And when she reached for his hand—tentatively, shyly—he knew. Maybe she had seen him all along, too.