How could you say those words with such hate? Surely you didn't mean them. But I looked into your eyes, and I saw the cold hard truth. You might not hate me, but you don't love me.

Your eyes, they used to be the blazing blue that lit up my world. To me, they were full of energy and love. Even as a lonely little boy, they still held love.

They hold love when you look at Sakura. Maybe the childish infatuation of youth, but it was a love I would have done anything to gain.

They held love when you looked at Sasuke. He was the brother that you never had. Even once he had abandoned you, and betrayed everything you fought for, you still loved him.

Would it have been different if I had been on you team, Naruto-kun? Instead of pursuing Sakura, would you have overlooked my shy personality to see the unwavering, unconditional love that I had to offer you?

But your eyes held nothing as they looked at me. Sometimes I wonder whether you saw me at all. It wouldn't be at all strange for your eyes to skim over me; after all, what did I ever do to earn your attention?

You can never imagine how your words cut me when you told me that you could never feel the same way. I lived for you. My only desire in the entire world was to be acknowledged by you; every thing else that I aimed for was just a means of getting there.

But I knew what your rejection would do to me, yet I opened myself up for it, twice. First, when you were fighting Pain, and I stood in the way.

The second time was other day.

I am sure you remember the moment I am talking about. I hope you do, because that is the only moment that matters to me anymore. That is the moment when my life ended.

Even as write this, even as I stare at the kunai that I am planning to plunge into my breast, it was that moment that killed me. Because it was, at that precise moment, that my life lost all meaning.

I am sorry if these words that I write cause you inner turmoil; that is not my intention. I only wish for you to understand exactly how this came about. Because you are my life Naruto, and there is no one that I want more to hold the very essence of my too-brief spell upon this earth.

This letter is my legacy. I grant it to you to do with what you wish. By all means, chuck it away, burn it, purge your soul of the tiny mark that I hope my death will leave upon your heart, because in it contains everything I am and ever was. I dearly wish to write "And ever will be," but that will not happen. Not anymore.

So I name two people my murderers. The first is you. You, because you disregarded my confession of my love. When I told you that I loved you for the second time and you told me so easily that it could never happen; that is the moment that you drove the kunai into my chest.

But I do not blame you, because the other person conspired to end my life so much more. This person created the opportunities for rejection, positioning the knife at my breast. This person steadied your hand as you plunged it in, ensuring that you not miss the vital spot. This person forced you to answer me and this is the person I blame for my death.

The person is I.

For it was I who opened myself for rejection, instead of watching from the sidelines as I always did. I knew full well that your rejection would destroy me should I confess; I have always known that. It was I who threw everything away on the possibility that you might love me back, like a foolish gambler giving up his last coin for the chance to win more.

I am procrastinating now. I am attempting to avoid the inevitable; for surely my heart stopped beating the moment you said you felt nothing for me.

I am glad that I finally got to tell you this, for had I tried to tell you in person I would stutter, or faint, and some twist of fate would undoubtedly cause me to leave with many words unsaid. But this way I am sure to have said them, and have uburdened my heart. Whether you hear them or not is out of my hands.

My final moments have been peaceful, if I am honest. If this is the feeling of leaving behind this hurried exostance that we call life, then I am almost glad it is over.

I finally had a plan, something that I could follow before everything truly ended. Never have I felt so purposeful, and my death will almost be a relief. As long as it alleviates the pain in my heart, I shall be happy.

So I say farewell, Naruto. I hope that we may meet again in some other life, when your presence won't tear me to pieces. But until then I shall watch over you as you continue to endure, and hopefully, to live. I hold you no more resentment, having said my piece and unburdened my heart. But remember these words, as they will be the last my hand has written, the final utterance that passes from my lips, and my ending thought as I slip into death.

I love you, Naruto

Hinata finished writing the letter, folding it and writing 'Naruto' on the front. She hoped no one else would open it before it got to him. It wasn't likely that it would happen as she wanted, but it was the best she could do under the circumstances. As long as it got to him in the end…

She glanced at the kunai that was indeed lying on the table. It looked so much more threatening than it ever had when she used it as a weapon on other people.

But she hadn't been lying in the letter, particularly when she had said that she had recently discovered a sense of purpose that had come with the decision to kill herself. She only wished for this deep ache in her chest to go away.

This, she decided, was a much better way to die than if she had allowed herself to fade away. Because fade she would have had she let herself live with the words of Naruto's rejection deep in her heart.

She looked at the clock. It was just after three o'clock in the morning. Funny, she thought she recalled being told that she had been born around that time…

She picked up the knife. Against her will, a tear trickled down her face. Silently she cursed it; she hadn't wanted to cry. She hadn't cried at all since after she confessed to Naruto. But she refused to be weaker than she already was as she committed the most cowardly act of her life; the final act of her life.

However she allowed that one tear to trickle slowly down her cheek. She loathed that tear, from the ticklish feeling it caused her skin to the overwhelming realisation that she was not done crying; that she had many more tears to shed.

'Not in this life,' she thought to herself as she plunged the knife into her chest. 'I won't cry ever again.' Instead she let out a small gasp at the cold metal imbedded in her chest.

The only tears she shed again that night were of blood.

Hiashi had knocked on her door the next morning to rouse her, not waiting for a response. Therefore he didn't note the absence of a reply significant as he walked away.

It was Neji who went to check on her when she didn't show up at training; who found her cold body lying on her bed, with the knife still in her chest.

It was Neji who saw the letter for Naruto and slipped it into his pocket before calling the household; aware that Hiashi would likely not give it to the blonde.

And it was Neji who read it before giving it to Naruto.

He hoped that that letter tormented Naruto for the rest of his life, because after reading it just once Neji could not forget a word of it, and he never forgave Naruto for what happened to his cousin.

He told no one of the contents of the letter. Only two people knew the whole of Hinata's story as they sat at the funeral service, and both would be haunted by her last words.

And when anyone walked into Hinata's room in the Hyuga mansion, if they listened very closely, they could hear four words whispered very softly; the last message of a dead girl, just as she promised in her letter.

"I love you, Naruto…"