Lord Cynic: "I knew this was coming…"
Mashu: "Yeah, well, lurking the Naruto category for a week does have its influences."
Lord Cynic: "You mean lurking the NarutoHinata fanfics. You wouldn't dare touch anything else, would you?"
Mashu: "… Meh. I already feel like a hypocrite after writing this anyway. Not to mention this was originally intended to be drabble. 1000 words is not drabble."
Lord Cynic: "You're telling me."
Mashu: "Anyway. I apologise in advance for this. It's pointless… whatever it is. But better that than writing a contrived piece that incorporates the main storyline. 25 episodes don't quite give me permission to do that. Not to mention I forget what most faces look like anyway…"
Mashu: "I don't own Naruto. Plain and simple."
Ramen
It had happened so quickly, she hadn't even been aware of blinking.
After another vigorous day of training, Hyuuga Hinata's team had disbanded to enjoy the evening. Said dark-haired girl had barely been conscious of her walking path, her body exhausted and her mind heavily preoccupied. The Hyuuga heiress had not been looking forward to returning home to inevitable condescension from her cousin Neji and criticism from her father Hiashi. Unfortunately, she could do nothing about their patronising behaviours until she grew stronger.
But such things were easier said than done.
Hyuuga Hinata was not the picture-perfect image of a ninja. She was shy, soft-spoken and easily startled. Several years of abuse from her over-strict father had also quashed her confidence. Consequently, she rarely raised her voice or her head during the rare instances she was cornered into a conversation. The fact that her own younger sister was more skilled than her and held their father's favour failed to improve her troubles either.
All that combined to make the so-called disappointment of the Hyuuga family and household. If a person were to be particularly cruel and vindictive, they would've sneered and declared more Hinata to be a Hyuuga only by her Byakugan and her peculiar white eyes. They only kept silence because of her name, which was the tragically ironic source of her dilemmas. However, her tradition and training forced her to avoid the discreetly sympathetic faces of those who managed to spot her petite form on the streets.
Hinata had been wandering those same streets when a booming, familiar voice knocked her out of her reverie. It was none other than her long-time and secret (or so she thought) crush, Uzumaki Naruto. The source of her inspiration, the second-most person she endeavoured to make proud of her, the hand that pulled her out of the darkness. The boy whom everyone looked down upon for reasons unknown to her (although she wasn't sure if it was unknown to him), although his boisterous voice and frantic nature seemed to ignore their hardened glares. The one person she wished she could be, but knew she couldn't…
Unfortunately, unlike several times before, Hinata hadn't stopped upon hearing the fox-faced boy's call. Instead, they seemed to be stuck on autopilot, causing her to collide clumsily with the blue-eyed troublemaker. She'd screamed slightly as she fell backwards, only to be halted in mid-descent by a hand grasping her own. She'd slowly recovered from the shock to discover the figure of her recent thoughts was her saviour, and embarrassingly so. His grinning face had chuckled and apologised amiably, causing hers to flare up like Christmas lights. Before she'd known it, he'd dragged her to Ichiraku, where she was currently located.
A bowl of piping hot pork ramen sat in front of Hinata, of which its contents she was eating pensively. To her immediate right, Naruto was finishing off his third bowl of miso ramen in ten minutes. Even through the noisy slurping of his soup, he was narrating his version of Team 7's latest mission.
This meant he was taking most, if not all the credit.
Hinata always listened, regardless of how exaggerated his reports were. The longer he talked and animatedly moved his hands, the longer she had an excuse to watch him abashedly out of the corner of her eye. And the brighter her blush glowed, of which Naruto was typically oblivious to.
She deduced that the Uzumaki boy was similar to the ramen she was gradually neglecting. It was delightfully warm, as he was to everyone whom he respected and considered a friend. It didn't think lowly of her, and he never considered her weak, if only a little strange. The steam the ramen emitted was as reassuring as the confident words of encouragement he spoke. Somehow, no matter how much she had (this would count as the fourth accidental visit this week), the ramen always surprised her, much like Naruto's spontaneous and often destructive actions.
The ramen also tasted quite pleasant… maybe like –
Hinata's face instantly transformed into a ripe tomato (of which Naruto was too busy throwing punches at the air to notice, of course). Almost shamefully, she stared back at her abandoned bowl. The half-completed thought circled through her mind several times.
Maybe like… a kiss from Naruto-kun's lips?
Ever so slowly, her pale eyes drifted to the still-rambling Naruto, not to mention the dozen empty ramen bowls that seemed to have materialised out of thin air. Instantly, her gaze averted back to her now cold ramen, the brilliant blush on her face refusing to budge. She couldn't believe she had considered testing her theory. It was certainly a bold thought she didn't know she could have. But perhaps that was another comparison to make: the ramen supplied with strength she never assumed she possessed. Much like a contagious smile, an adorable foxy grin (Hinata's blush somehow deepened), or a comforting pat on the shoulder from the blonde boy was enough to lighten Hinata's mood or bolster her spirits.
Also, Hinata contemplated, ramen was certainly plentiful, even endless (Naruto would have a heart attack if it ever ran out), much like the Uzumaki ninja's energy, or chakra to be precise. She'd secretly watched him return from exhausting and dangerous missions, usually behind a pillar or a similar sort of obstruction. But regardless of how bloodied or bruised he'd become, he always showed up with that huge grin of his, with energy to spare.
And her heart always skipped a beat, with an appropriate accompanying splotch of red to splatter her cheeks. Then she'd slip away, a content smile on her lips and a weight off her shoulders. He always returned no matter what, and she was always glad, for his strength was her inspiration.
CrashHinata's heart skipped several beats that time at the commotion, and she swerved in her seat in the direction of its source. What she witnessed provoked a small but noticeable smile to spread across her lips.
Naruto's narration had become physical as he mimed the details of a fierce battle. In his haste he'd overbalanced, and consequently fallen over the back of his seat. The force had sent his seventeenth ramen bowl flying, before it landed unceremoniously on his head, scattering pieces of pork and ramen all over him.
But far from being annoyed, he simply grinned and scratched the back of his head.
"Eheh… whoops."
Hinata's smile widened as she surmised her last comparison: When handled recklessly, expect messy, if amusing results.
The End