The moon hung low over Konoha, pale and swollen, watching.
Naruto stood atop the roof of the Academy, arms crossed behind his back, wind licking at his jacket. His eyes weren't on the village. They were on the sky—still, quiet, and far enough that he could imagine it didn't belong to anyone.
He liked that feeling.
No ownership. No expectations. Just space.
No one asked anything from the sky.
"Y-You come here often, don't you?"
The voice cracked gently behind him, so soft the wind almost carried it away.
Naruto didn't turn. He knew the voice too well by now.
Hinata.
She always approached like this—slow, nervous, never demanding. She never interrupted, but she always stayed longer than she meant to.
"I do," Naruto said after a moment, voice low, even. "It's quiet."
A silence bloomed between them.
Hinata's fingers curled in front of her chest. Her eyes—those pale, glassy eyes—watched his back like it might vanish. She'd spent years loving him from behind—quietly, painfully, faithfully.
But tonight felt different. The air had weight. The world held its breath.
And Naruto could feel something sharp in his chest. An itch. A flicker of heat. He didn't know what it meant yet, but it wasn't new. It always came when she was near.
She took a small step forward.
"I—I left some food at your training spot earlier," she murmured. "I-I wasn't sure if you saw it."
"I did."
"Did you…like it?"
He turned now.
Not fully. Just enough for his eyes to find hers.
"Yeah," he said. "I knew it was you."
She flushed. Her hands fidgeted, but she didn't look away.
He stepped closer.
Not a lot. Just enough that she had to tilt her head up to keep his eyes in view. She barely reached his chin now. He'd grown fast—shoulders broader, arms more solid than most boys his age. But it wasn't just his body.
It was the way he carried himself. Like someone who didn't ask permission.
Like someone who owned his space.
Hinata's breath caught. "You…you always train alone."
"I do everything alone."
He said it without sadness. But the silence that followed felt like mourning.
"Why?" she asked.
Naruto looked past her for a long moment. The village twinkled below them, blind to the two figures standing in the dark.
"When you let people in," he said, "they get close. And when they get close, they see things you don't want them to see."
"You don't want me to see you?"
His jaw flexed. "I don't know yet."
Her lips parted, but she said nothing.
Not until he turned fully toward her.
And when he did—his face finally lit by moonlight—she gasped quietly.
Naruto wasn't a boy anymore.
His features had refined—sharp jawline, high cheekbones, storm-lit eyes. The resemblance to the Fourth Hokage was striking, but there was something more…feral in Naruto. Something untamed.
Something that could ruin you if it ever loved you back.
"I think about you," she whispered. "A lot."
He didn't respond.
"I think about how you move when you fight. And how you never talk during class unless it matters. And how your eyes look tired but you never complain. And…" She swallowed hard. "And I wonder what it would feel like if you ever looked at me like I was…enough."
Naruto stepped forward.
Hinata instinctively stepped back—but there was nowhere left to go.
Her back hit the railing.
And Naruto kept walking—slow, calm, never aggressive—but unstoppable.
Until he stood inches from her.
He didn't touch her. But his presence wrapped around her like chakra. Suffocating. Intoxicating.
"Do you really want to know what it's like?" he said quietly. "Being looked at like that? Like you're the only thing that matters?"
Hinata nodded slowly, eyes wide.
"You won't get to run from it. Not once I start."
Her knees wobbled. "I…don't want to run."
He didn't kiss her.
Not yet.
But his hand lifted—calloused and warm—and he traced the curve of her jaw with the back of his knuckle.
She shivered.
"No one else gets this," he said. "Not if you're mine."
Her breath hitched. "Yours?"
He leaned in, close enough that his lips brushed her ear.
"I don't share. Not glances. Not touches. Not smiles. You talk to another boy like he matters, I'll feel it. Even if I don't show it, I'll hate it."
Hinata clutched his jacket.
"And if you ever lie to me," he continued, voice low and velvet-dark, "I won't say anything. I'll just disappear."
She shook her head quickly. "I wouldn't. I wouldn't lie. I'd never—"
He finally looked into her eyes. Not like before.
Fully.
Like he was drinking her soul in through his gaze.
"I believe you."
She melted.
And for the first time in her life, Hinata Hyuga kissed someone.
Naruto didn't move at first. He let her come to him—awkward, soft, trembling. Her lips barely brushed his, but the electricity that leapt between them burned hotter than any jutsu.
And then…
He kissed her back.
Gently at first. Then deeper.
His hand cupped her waist. The other slid behind her neck. She moaned softly into his mouth, and the sound triggered something in him—a hunger, raw and buried too long.
He pulled her tighter.
Her body pressed against his.
And for a single, blinding moment, the loneliness in both of them broke.
They sat together after—her head on his shoulder, his arm around her waist.
Neither spoke for a while.
"I don't want to be part of a group," she whispered. "I don't want to be another girl who wants you."
Naruto looked down at her.
"You're not," he said.
She tilted her head up. "But I know…others will try. You're…you're not just strong. You're…" She struggled for the word.
He gave it to her.
"Needed."
She nodded.
"I won't ask you to be someone you're not," she whispered. "But if you ever stop needing me, please don't pretend."
He ran his fingers through her hair.
"I'll never pretend with you."
That night, Naruto didn't go back to his apartment.
He stayed on the roof, wrapped in Hinata's warmth, watching the stars blink through thin clouds.
And for the first time in years…He didn't feel cold.