Chapter Seven, Serendipity.

Hinata wasn't sure she wanted to, considering it was him, but she believed the desire to do so was justified given their complicated past. She didn't know him, not even a little bit, but sometimes she felt she understood him better than anyone else could. Or, far less often, more than he'd allow anyone else to know.

She wasn't naive enough anymore to believe that he had been trying to reveal himself to her – albeit strangely – for the past year. Talking would be one crucial factor for that to be possible, and they certainly didn't do much of that. But despite the sparsity of words exchanged - they were compelling and poignant conversations. The kind that left her breathless and flushed. The kind that made her feel alive, bubbling with a mixture of excitement and a wash of regret.

If anything, their encounters could be classified as a game he started, because she'd rather blame it on something simplistic than dwell on what his motives were.

The slow burn of his gaze was always present, even when he was absent from Suna, she could feel its scorching touch in her memories.

One evening, caught between the balcony railings and the French doors, she realised she should be more worried than she was about this change. Considering it was Uchiha Sasuke and he had been looking at her like that for the past year.

She was not with Gaara when they kissed. She was with him, in fact, wholly with Sasuke; but the metaphysical aspects aside from that, he didn't care. It was a kiss that made his sober mind reel and hallucinate, almost mistaking it for a dream.

The hallway outside the room was deserted. The door was closed, he had double-checked just before his arms snuck around her waist, and her feet rolled forward so she was tip-toe – making her throat the perfect height for his lips to explore.

He froze as his lips reached her pulse, a lingering scent caught his attention and held it. She smelled vaguely sweet and floral, akin to a spring breeze flickering across a flowered meadow. Lilies. He recognised now, Temari smelled of lilies and, by proxy smelled like the personified bouquet of resplendent blossoms that was his Ino.

Temari smiled for him, a charming wild-honey grin edged by the impish flick of her lashes. "I look forward to our next encounter."

The abrasive kunoichi did not notice how his grip became rigid and his gaze distant and glassy.

It was only the fluttering murmur of a light knock on the door which broke him out of his stupor. Alarm flashed across the teal, depthless plunge pools of her eyes and Temari stepped away, breaking their contact. She disappeared in a flurry of bouncing golden curls and a cat-like grin.

The door opened slowly and the Kazekage stepped into the room, his emotions unreadable beneath the refined mask of indifference he had groomed over the years.

Shikamaru only had to take one look at the relaxed poise and the knowing yet calm and reassuring gaze, to realise that Gaara knew everything. The Kazekage stayed silent for a long moment, his index finger rubbing circles into the parchment paper he was holding.

"Forgive me for interrupting, Shikamaru-san," the copper-haired nin began. His voice was slow and deliberate, as though he was carefully considering every word. "But I had to catch you before your departure. I have a request."

The Nara genius studied the jinchūriki's smile, it wasn't amicable nor was it real. A vacant spurious façade perfected from years of imitation. Shikamaru could see behind the masquerade to the veiled uncertainty and disquietude dwelling in the tautness of his jaw and the white-knuckle grip on the curious paper in his hands.

"What is your request, Kazekage-sama?" It was a courteous reply, but devoid of sincerity.

Gaara's mouth opened, floundering for the briefest moment, before he held up the envelope in his hands. "Will you please deliver this letter for me?"

"Of course," Shikamaru agreed, unsure where the conversation was going. Gaara, it seemed, employed the same evasions that Sasuke did, while lacking the mannerisms to make it appear effortless. Gaara was undeniably tense, conflicting anxiety bubbling behind those pools of icy green.

The Kazekage closed in on the Nara, his arm outstretched with the letter. A tanned hand reached forward to receive the cream envelope, indented with a red waxen seal, the insignia of Sunagakure.

"Who am I delivering this to- " the Nara trailed off as he read the black ink calligraphy.

Hyuuga Hinata.

Shikamaru considered the possibilities. There was an endless legion of cogitable circumstances permissible between the two old acquaintances. The Nara didn't bother attempting to decipher the meaning behind the letter. He'd rather not know frankly. What he could discern however from the cold edge in the kage's tone, that the existence of this letter would not become public knowledge.

He wasn't sure what it was with the doe-eyed heiress and male shinobi with sinistrous lineages and pasts shroud in clandestine darkness with penchants for bloodlust. But Shikamaru could see there was a similliar patterning developing.

Gaara exhaled, looking away. His pale green eyes focused on a distant wall. He looked oddly serene. "Naruto informed me of her promotion to clan head."

Shikamaru nodded, replying the words in his head again and again, hoping to deduct some semblance of meaning from them.

"I am extending the olive branch, of sorts. I hope she doesn't mind." There was an almost-smile curving the corner of his mouth. Pride polished the gesture, and Shikamaru wondered did Gaara delight in antagonism. "We have not talked much since she left Suna."

There had been a few times Shikamaru watched Gaara break character. Break the regal pococurante of the Kage he was always destined to become. During the war, during the Chuunin exams, and finally, the day Hinata left Suna.

His voice was thick and fractured, lacking its usual effortlessly blasé lilt. "Aa, yes she left to join the Anbu," Shikamaru shuffled his weight awkwardly to the other foot.

Gaara's laugh was low, the barest hint of humour lacing its acidity. The crimson-haired Kage shook his head, his eyes still trained ahead. "Hinata left because was having an affair," he said simply.

She what?

"With who?"

Gaara felt ugliness seep out from his words, draining all the oxygen from the air. His words gurgled in his throat, threatening to suck the light out of everything. "In the end, Hinata was having the affair with me."

Sasuke groaned inwardly as he sensed the approach of a chakra signature he'd known all of his life. He debated whether or not it was worth it to open his eyes and decided against it. He laid completely still, counting the soft taps of their footsteps on the ground. They came to stand beside him; in Sasuke's mind he could see the dusky image of them peering down, wondering whether he was asleep or not. The Uchiha feigned slumber, hoping to deter any hopes of conversation they envisioned.

Nightfall came as a reward of sorts to the weary Anbu team. There was an unyielding blackness about the sky tonight, one contrasting the dusky glow of midnight viewed from a city. Tucked away in the hills of Iwegakure, a small Anbu unit set up camp in the first clearing they found in the labyrinthine woods. The moon was full, and winking astral stars adorned the black canvas of the sky but cast nothing to lift the impenetrable darkness concealing the shinobi.

The woods always looked different at night. Even with the Sharingan, everything had an unfamiliar slant to it. As if the daytime trees, flowers and stones had gone to bed and sent slightly more ominous versions of themselves to take their places.

"I can't sleep," the blonde murmured. "I keep wondering where Shino keeps all those bugs of his at night. I mean, are they sleeping too or are they nocturnal?"

A pause. "That's none of my concern,"

The Uchiha didn't need to look at his team-mate to see the angry grin curving along the lines of his lips. A reply from Sasuke, no matter how small, was all the approval he needed. The thud of a mat hitting the ground beside him resounded in Sasuke's ears.

Naruto quickly set up his mat and sleeping-bag, before he flopped onto it. He slid his hands under his head and gazed upwards at the slice of sky etched into the treetops. "Besides, we haven't been on a mission together in years."

Sasuke's eyes fluttered open, resigning to the fact there was nothing he could do to deter the blonde away. The night air was warm and heady against his cheeks and carried the scents of wildflowers and pine. The soothing crinkle of the camp's smouldering fire filled the stretches of silence.

"Feels wrong to be on a mission together without Sakura-chan."

"Aa," Sasuke agreed.

"But Kaka-sensei doesn't like sending her on dangerous missions." His signature aggressive grin plastered onto his face as he beheld the sky above. "Not valuing our lives as much as Sakura-chan's – we should beat him up for that!"

Sasuke shrugged. "Everyone has their favourites."

Naruto nodded. "My favourite is Sakura too," his tone low and imbued with emotion. Though Sasuke was not looking at the blonde, he could tell Naruto had that distant dreamy look on his features. The indicative mask of someone ruminating about their beloved.

Sasuke shifted slightly away from his team-mate, he had never liked close proximity. The soil was hard beneath him in some places, and there seemed to be a rather jagged rock digging into his shoulder. He ignored the dull pain radiating from the uncomfortable ground and focused skyward.

His thoughts circled around the question of what exactly a 'favourite' even meant and who exactly could he classify as his? A kaleidoscope of memories flickered in front of his vision - blotting out the night sky above – as he compartmentalised his preferences to figure out the answer through logical reasoning.

He thought of the sweetness of her voice. The feminine charms of her body; they sang out to his senses in a way no form of divine music ever had. Her chary finger when she attended to his wounds. The frequency of his chuckles in her presence. The dazzling assemblage of foods whenever she cooked for them. Her sour pout when he reprimanded her for being reckless on mission. She was the only person who remembered his exact Ichickaru order.

He thought of small hands wrapping bandages around his wounds and the acute jolt of chakra shooting through his system to unblock his chakra point. Perhaps Hinata would be his favourite medic, simply for the fact he didn't like the dominance Sakura exerted over him in that realm. He pondered absently on who was his favourite to on missions with, who was his favourite to get onigiri with, his favourite to person to talk to – the same image of a small form and pearlescent eyes cropped up consecutively.

It was rather worrying. And Sasuke had every intention to ruminate about its meaning for the next while but Naruto had other ideas.

"I need advice," the blonde murmured.

The Uchiha internally groaned. The cliché of bonding on a mission made he feel physically ill.

Receiving no visual or audial response from his team-mate Naruto continued. "It's Sakura," he paused. His words shards of glass lodged in his throat. It hurt to swallow. "I think I'm going to ask her to marry me." The concept tasted funny in his mouth, leaving a burning aftertaste that burned the roof of his mouth. The blonde was thankful for the coverage dusk brought; he didn't want Sasuke to see the uncharacteristic blush staining his cheeks.

Sasuke's eyes remained fixated in that blank unnerving gaze, staring into nothingness as he contemplated his answer. His lips barely moved as he replied. "Why are telling me this?"

"You don't know what it's like. What it feels like." Naruto replied emotively. "I am so uninterested in a life without Sakura." The blonde paused, angling his head to eye Sasuke. "Or maybe you do."

The tensing of his jaw was the only reaction Sasuke made. Though the action was subtle, the blonde caught the silent but deathly deterrence in his obsidian gaze. Naruto knew better than to pry at an Uchiha. It wouldn't be worth the hassle.

"So how is you and Hinata going?"

The briefest flicker of crimson flashed across the inky depths of Sasuke's eyes. "Shut up," he hissed lowly. "Her sister could hear you."

Reflectively both sets of eyes slide sideways to the middle of the clearing. A svelte silhouette shroud in shadows sat across from the dull orange glow of the fire. She was still awake, opting to stare into the dancing flames oppose to sleeping on her mat positioned next to the lightly snoring Shino.

Sasuke had a penchant dislike for surprises. And change. It was why upon laying eyes on Hyuuga Hanabi that morning, he was thankful for the Anbu mask to hide the disapproving frown that had found its way to tighten his mouth.

With her sister's assumption to clan leader, Hanabi became Hinata's replacement to the Anbu. While Hanabi's prowess was significantly lower than Hinata's, the organisation needed a Byakugan. Hence thereof, just like her predecessor, little Hanabi had been placed on Sasuke's team and under his keen tutelage.

An affronted expression hardened Sasuke's features as he thought about the younger Hyuuga. It was evident Hanabi remembered her antics and their encounter from bar that night. Her Hyuuga façade fitted snugly to her face, much like the damned Anbu masks she hadn't removed once since receiving it. She was quiet and obedient with rather impressive incentive. The pair scarcely exchanged words, and Sasuke hoped she hadn't notice he was avoiding her.

It was a curious and rather unnerving situation. The Uchiha spent the majority of the mission pretending not to realise her blank stare seemed stitched to his person. Following his movements with a fluidity only a Hyuuga could emanate. He would know – her sister had done it too - all those years ago. He decided not to dwell on that fact too much.

Pale sunlight streamed through the open sliding doors, casting a subdued glittering light over the large room and its furnishings. Hanabi stood in the doorway, staring unblinkingly at her elder sister sitting at the kitchen table.

"Anbu suits you," Hinata observed over the contents of her mug.

Hanabi clutched the Anbu mask so hard the glinting porcelain bowed under the tension in her grasp. It was a weasel face, painted swirls of black, grey and a dark indigo. She picked it because it was her favourite animal, an innocent whim. She hadn't expected the hostile and almost aggressive parting words from Uchiha Sasuke. The simple request – no warning – to never wear that mask again, and to choose a different animal. It was very strange, Hanabi couldn't make sense of the interaction at all. The illusive Uchiha barely said a word to her. She wasn't sure whether he was ignoring her or whether he simply didn't regard her of any importance. She couldn't tell which excited her more.

"Thank you," Hanabi replied, not bothering to hide the conceited quirk of her lips.

"So how was your mission?" Hinata's voice was even, almost uninterested. She pretended to busy herself with the newspaper and the porcelain cup of tea in her hands.

"Efficient," Hanabi murmured, a sinister lilt indented her tone. "Uchiha don't make errors." Hanabi repeated, tasting how the words of her new captain's egotistical remark felt in her mouth.

Slender and dainty hands tighten around the delicate cup, yet Hinata's eyes never left the newspaper in front of her. There was something about this situation that caused an uneasy feeling to unfurl within Hinata. The kind of feeling that caused her blood to run cold. "Neither do good Hyuugas," Hinata reminded her sister.

Hanabi ignored her senior, and moved across the room to drop into the chair across from her sister with the agility and grace of a wild cat – all flexed muscles and a flurry of dark hair. She rested the mask on the table in front of her, her index fingers marvelling over the inky patterns and loops. "Perhaps being marked with the brand seal won't be so bad," she lulled. "I rather like Anbu."

Hinata's large, white and concerned eyes glossed over her daydreaming sister before she rose and walked towards the island countertop. Sitting atop the white marble stood a tall and nicely shaped glass containing a pale red liquid. It had taken her nearly a week to source all the elixir's ingredients.

The Uchiha smoothie.

Blurry images – disconnected memories – flitted and swirled around her head as the heiress sipped the elixir. Their last encounter, shrouded in clandestine darkness in the unspoilt moonlight of her bedroom. Sasuke's hands and attention fixed on her, his eyes glowing scarlet and his lips parted. Her small hand pressed to his chest, pushing him away with wavering conviction. "N-not when you're drunk," she had squeaked.

Tendrils of his fringe hung in front of his face. "I always want you, not just when I'm drunk – but I can wait if I have to."

"Hinata? What are you drinking?" A caustic voice interrupting her wonderings and caused her to flinch at the sudden proximity.

Hanabi peered at her first, before returning her inquiry to the glass clasped in Hinata's grasp. She raised a perfect arched eyebrow to add emphasis.

Breathing shallowly and attempting to maintain a still position and a relaxed façade, Hinata smiled. "I made a smoothie, want to try?"

Hanabi scoffed, reverting her gaze from her sister and shaking her head. She crossed her arms across her chest and leaned against counter, a coy smirk gleamed across her lips. It reminded Hinata of a blade glinting in moonlight.

"That happened fast: an Anbu one moment and a homemaker the next."

Hinata pursed her lips and set the Uchiha elixir down. All softness drained from her ivory Hyuuga features. She tucked a tendril of indigo behind her ear, tentatively fixing it in place while she searched for the correct words. "There was something I was meaning to address with you,"

Hanabi stiffened. "What is it?"

"Last week," Hinata continued, her voice lacking its usual chary tenor. "Ino's birthday," Hinata alluded, her voice trailing off suggestively for a brief moment. "Uchiha-san," it felt odd to address him with such formalities, "brought you home in an extremely inebriated state."

Hanabi's translucent eyes, hauntingly similar to Hiashi's, never faltered. They remained transfixed upon Hinata's steady gaze. But her grip on the counter flexed, revealing tensed tendons protruding from the pale skin on the back of her hand.

Hanabi's lack of interjection caused Hinata to continue. "Hanabi, as members of the Main Family of the Hyuuga, there is certain decorum we must follow. If father had found out about this…" Concern swam in the honey warm depths of Hinata's eyes. Empathy mingled with disapproval imbued her practised tone. It was approachable, yet silently demanding respect. Motherly.

"The clan cannot tolerate such behavior."

A challenge sparked across the white fire of the younger sister's eyes. Her mouth opened, a perfectly manicured comeback dancing on the tip of her tongue, before she stopped. While she could tease Hinata about her resignation of her kunoichi career, she could not disobey Hinata's requests – no orders – anymore. Hinata, her older sister with that embarrassing stutter, impractical figure, and guileless heart, was her future leader. Discipline was Hinata's realm.

The calm soprano of Hinata's voice made her wilt into compliance.

"Understood," was all Hanabi said.

Hinata smiled and nodded. Happy with her sister's agreement, a small part of her had envisioned an argument. Hanabi, even with her deceptive look, there was no disguising the harsh angles that darkened her face.

The heiress stepped forward and wrapped her arms around her younger – yet taller – sister. Hanabi's form was lithe and hard, like silk laid over steel. While she felt rigid in the heiress's hold, eventually her muscles relaxed and sank into the warm embrace. Though her heartbeat never slowed – Hinata couldn't tell whether it was curious or concerning.

"Be careful Hana-chan, ne?" Hinata crooned, her voice airy and light. It sounded like petals being carried on a delicate spring breeze. "Anbu is dangerous."

Hanabi didn't say anything. Hinata sensed she couldn't, or perhaps wouldn't in an act of defiance. Hinata stepped back, allowing her to behold the mousey haired nin's face. Featureless and cold like water. Hinata began to pull away, when icy fingers looped around her forearm – securing Hinata to her in a vicelike grip.

Hanabi leaned in, her voice the barest whisper. "My main memory from that night is the smell of fire. Uchiha Sasuke smells of fire."

Hinata's stomach began to ache. "Excuse me?"

"It was the first time I've properly seen him outside of the bingo books. I always knew he was handsome, but he smells like fire." Hanabi tilted her head, considering the women before her. "When you have eyes that can see everything, it's surprising how much time you spend not looking."

Naruto loved Sakura violently, just like he loved his dream of being Hokage violently, just like how he saved Sasuke – violently. Nothing about them was delicately spun or subtle diaphanous like an intricate gossamer web – containing secrets to be unveiled if only one looked hard enough.

The pair were team-mate before lovers. Favouring sparring sessions, claw-marks, bruised thighs and kiss mark covered missions scrolls over candlelit dinners and heady and breathless love confessions utters beneath wisteria and mimosa blossoms.

The lingering light was obliterated by the rapidly falling night. The once salmon and purple sky transformed into a vast expanse of jet-black that engulfed the village. A canopy of luminous stars materialized amongst the ocean of blackness. Some were dull, merely flickering into existence every now and then, but there was an adequate amount of shimmering stars to illuminate the dark, moonless night

For a moment, Naruto wondered if she really saw him, if she could make out that it was him. But she started to walk towards him. Her body making a trail in the unruly grass. Her coming towards him in her medic uniform he decided, quickly, that this was one of his favourite sights.

"So this is where you'd gone," she said dryly when she reached him. There is a delectable lilt in her voice that sounds like a mixture of amusement and reprimand. Sakura dropped next to him in a flurry of pink hair sending a wash of her intoxicating aroma shooting through the air towards him. She laid down and surrendered her eyes to the stars. "Sasuke called into the hospital – so I knew your mission was over."

A cloud crawled over the moon, casting the team-mates in shade.

"Training ground three," she murmured, her voice so light and dainty the breeze almost carried it away. "We have so many memories here."

"Let's make another," he smiled, it was like his grin but with less teeth and aggressive – a gesture reserved only for her.

Naruto remained sitting, his arms folded and propped up on his bent knees. However, his eyes were locked on the women before him. He admired the sliver of taunt stomach exposed, the evenness of her breaths and the colour of her eyes at nightfall – midnight jade indented with sparkling stars. He knows he shouldn't – now wasn't the time.

But there is no choice. Instead, nestled into training ground three, with Sakura half drenched in ancient celestial light and the other half in shadow, he posed a question.

"Marry me, Sakura-chan?"

The former avenger set down his cup to appraise the dark figure sauntering across his kitchen towards him. Refusing to blink, Sasuke studied his visitor again. He had to resist the urge to tilt his head sideways as he took in the full vision of her. The soft curve of her dark silhouette against shallow moonlight backdrop.

Midnight turns Sasuke's house into a monochrome flickering dreamscape. The air smells of rain, cedar wood, silence and something else. Her eyes widened as she recognises that unmistakable fragrance – subtle yet arresting. Fire.

The Hyuuga is not certain how she found her way here, but that does not matter.

"Why are you here?" Sasuke asked, his tone dipping between indulgence and impatience.

She ignored him, closing in on him until just several inches separated the two shinobi. "Why are drinking coffee at 1 am?"

"I couldn't sleep," he wasn't sure why he felt the need to explain himself.

The female before him paused, confliction flashing across her eyes as she fumbled for the words.

Hinata, if you know how to read her correctly, had a face like a wall of glass. You could see every emotion coursing through her. It used to annoy him – for so many reasons. He thought it should be a crime for somebody to care so much, to feel so much. She was that person. Over time, he learned to read her like his favourite book.

"You're tense," he noted quietly.

"I came here because," she paused, inhaling. "You can't come to the Hyuuga compound anymore."

He smiled – but it wasn't friendly. Predatory in gesture. "You came to my house, to tell me that I can't go to your house?"

"I think," she bit her lip. "Hanabi knows." But her words were feeble and lacked conviction. A half-threaded excuse.

Like a moth to a blaze she was hesitant, seeming to crave his warmth but not its inevitable burn. The Hyuuga refined self-control seemed to melt away from her soft facial features. She reached forward, her small hand holding his. It was very warm.