The rest of the day was a blur. My senses were heightened, my body humming with a low-level thrum of chakra that felt more natural than breathing. The Hyuga techniques were second nature, my tenketsu control precise to a degree my younger self could only dream of. I could feel the ebb and flow of life energy in the room, the bright, chaotic storm that was Naruto, the focused spark of Sasuke, the gentle waves of Sakura. It was like listening to an orchestra where only I knew the score.
When the final bell rang, I packed my bag with deliberate slowness. Iruka had Naruto, Shikamaru, and Choji stay behind. My moment. I walked towards the door, my path deliberately taking me past Naruto's desk. He was slouched in his chair, scowling at the floor.
"Naruto-kun," I said, my voice soft. The honorific felt right, natural on my tongue.
He looked up, startled. "Hinata? What do you want?"
"I... I just wanted to say thank you," I murmured, not meeting his eyes. The performance was crucial. No, it was more than a performance. This was the old Hinata, the one who loved him from afar, but infused with the will and purpose of a soldier. "For... for not letting me take the blame. I appreciate it."
He blinked. "Uh, yeah. No problem. I mean, it was kinda my fault anyway."
"It was brave," I insisted, finally looking up. I let a little of the truth shine through my lavender eyes, just for a second. The unwavering admiration. "What you did this morning. Painting the faces. It was... a statement. I liked it."
A slow smile spread across his face. A real one. It reached his eyes, making them sparkle. "You did? Most people just yelled at me."
"I'm not most people," I said, and the words held a depth I knew he couldn't comprehend. I gave him a small, shy smile, then turned and walked out of the classroom before he could respond.
Outside, the afternoon sun was warm. I leaned against the wall of the academy, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs. It was working.
He saw me. Not as a weird Hyuga girl, but as... something else. An ally. I closed my eyes, focusing inward, extending my senses. I found him easily.
His chakra was a brilliant, roaring fire, but underneath the flames... something else. A deep, malevolent chakra, coiled and sleeping. Kurama.
This was my true objective. Not just winning Naruto's love, but healing the deepest wound in his soul. The village had given him a cage of loneliness; they had put a monster in that cage and called it him. I would teach him that the monster was a prisoner, too.
Later that evening, I found him. He was sitting on the swing set by the academy, the one he always favored when he was feeling down. He was kicking at the dirt, a solitary figure against the deepening twilight.
The village lights were beginning to flicker on, but none of their warmth seemed to reach him.
I approached silently, my steps muffled by the grass. I didn't speak until I was right beside the swing set. "It's a nice night for swinging, Naruto-kun."
He jumped, spinning around. "Jeez, Hinata! Don't sneak up on me like that!"
"My apologies," I said, though we both knew I could have been completely silent if I'd wanted to. I walked over to the swing next to his and sat down, my movements graceful and fluid.
"You seem down." He scoffed, kicking his feet against the ground to send his swing rocking gently.
"Iruka made me clean the whole Hokage monument by myself. Shikamaru and Choji got their dads to do it. It's not fair."
"It's not," I agreed softly. "They don't understand you."
"Nobody understands me," he muttered, staring at the ground. His voice was thick with a pain so familiar it made my chest ache.
"I do," I said, my voice barely a whisper.
He stopped swinging and looked at me. Really looked at me. In the dim light, his blue eyes seemed almost luminous. "What do you mean?"
I took a breath. This was it. The delicate surgery. "I see you, Naruto-kun. I see the loud, goofy boy who wants everyone to notice him. And I see... the other one. The one who sits alone and wonders why."
His jaw tightened. A defensive wall was going up. I had to move quickly.
"I'm not trying to be mean," I continued, my tone gentle.