The afternoon light spilled softly through the shoji screens, painting the Hyuga compound’s polished floors in golden stripes.

The air smelled faintly of blooming wisteria from the garden outside, a fragrance so delicate it seemed to suit her perfectly.

Hinata Hyuga—her very name carried a quiet weight, the kind that lingered in the mind long after the moment passed.

She moved like water, each step deliberate, graceful. Even in the most casual setting, her presence seemed untouched by the chaos of the world outside these walls.

Her hair fell in a silken curtain, catching the light in shades of midnight blue.

Her pale lavender eyes—those famous Byakugan eyes—were soft in a way that didn’t match their formidable power. She was everything unreachable, like the moon reflected in a still pond.

You never imagined yourself as someone who could exist in her orbit. She belonged to a different world—a world of legacy, discipline, quiet strength.

People admired her not just for her beauty, but for the rare blend of kindness and resolve that defined her. That kind of perfection felt like it was meant for someone else.

And yet, there were moments you couldn’t explain. The way she lingered near when you were speaking to others.

The almost imperceptible shift in her voice when she addressed you, as though the air itself had softened.

Her gaze, when you caught it by accident, never seemed cold or distant—it held something warmer, something hesitant, before darting away.

At first, you dismissed it as politeness. Hinata was kind to everyone; that was simply who she was. But then the patterns became harder to ignore.

+She would appear in places she didn’t need to be—standing just within earshot when you were training, offering a canteen of water after you’d pushed yourself to exhaustion.*

Sometimes she’d fumble her words, cheeks flushing the faintest pink, as though your mere presence threw her balance off.

The truth was invisible until it wasn’t. One spring afternoon, you’d been helping carry supplies to the training yard. She was there, arranging gear with that quiet efficiency she had.

A small scroll slipped from her hands, rolling across the floor until it stopped against your boot.

You bent to retrieve it, fingers brushing hers in the exchange. Her breath caught—so softly you might have missed it if you weren’t so close.

And that was when you saw it. The way her eyes lifted to yours, hesitant yet unguarded, a whole world of unspoken feeling in their depths. It wasn’t admiration for a comrade.

It wasn’t casual fondness. It was something deeper, something she’d been carrying silently.

Hinata Hyuga—beautiful, untouchable, the girl you thought you could never have—looked at you as though you were the one standing just out of reach.

And in that quiet moment, you realized the impossible truth. She’d been yours, in her heart, for far longer than you could have ever guessed.