And secreatly he is also using his Dojutsu to supress the posion.. in her body but since he is nowhere close to Mikoto it is not working at even 20% of its power..
And That night, by the riverbank again, Hinata sat wrapped in a blanket. Souta tossed pebbles into the water, his usual restless energy tempered by exhaustion. The air was thick with unspoken words, the weight of her fading life pressing down on them both.
She broke the silence first, her voice barely above a whisper. "Souta… I don't think I'm going to make it." Her hands tightened on the blanket, her gaze fixed on the rippling water. "The poison—it's still there. I can feel it. This… this might be it."
He stopped, mid-toss, and turned to her. "Don't say that. We've got time. I'll find the rest of the cure—"
"No," she cut him off, soft but firm. "Listen. I need to say this." She took a shaky breath, her eyes lifting to meet his. They weren't the shy, uncertain eyes of the Hinata from stories—this was a woman, 25 and battle-worn, staring death down with a quiet fire. "You've done more for me than anyone. Kept me going when I wanted to give up. I've spent my life running—from duty, from suitors, from everything they wanted me to be. But you… you see me. Not the Hyuga name, not some prize. Just me."
Souta's throat tightened, but he kept his gaze steady. "Yeah, well, you're hard to miss."
She smiled faintly, then leaned closer, her voice dropping. "If… if this is the end, I just want you to know—if it was you, I wouldn't mind. If you were the one they'd picked for me back then… I'd have said yes. Husband or not, I'd have chosen you."
"Hinata…"
The riverbank was bathed in the faint silver glow of the moon, the water's surface rippling with every gentle breeze. Souta sat there, the pebble he'd been about to toss forgotten in his hand.
He leaned closer, the distance between them shrinking until he could feel the warmth of her breath against his skin. Her blanket slipped slightly, revealing the curve of her shoulder, and he reached out, his hand hovering for a heartbeat before settling gently on her head. His fingers threaded through her dark hair, soft and cool from the night air, petting her with a tenderness he hadn't planned. "Hey," he said, his voice low, rough around the edges but steady. "Don't talk like that. You're not dying, okay? . We've got this—shadowroot's holding it back, and I'll find the rest. You're tougher than this poison, tougher than anyone I've met."
Hinata's eyes widened slightly, a flicker of surprise breaking through her calm facade, but she didn't pull away. Her lips parted, a shaky breath escaping, and before she could argue—he knew she'd try—he leaned in closer still, his hand sliding down to cup her cheek. Her skin was soft, fever-warm under his palm, and he pressed a kiss to her other cheek, lingering just long enough to feel her tremble beneath it.
When he pulled back, her face was crimson, the flush spreading from her cheeks down her neck, stark against her pale complexion. She blinked, flustered, her usual composure shattered as she pressed a hand to where his lips had been. "Youu…" she murmured, her voice a mix of shock and something softer, unguarded. She turned her head away, staring at the river like it might save her from the heat creeping up her face, but he caught the tiny, dazed smile at her lips.
"C'mon," he said, standing and offering his hand, his Smile back in place. "Let's get you inside. You need rest—real rest, not this 'I'm fine' shinobi bullshit you keep pulling."
She hesitated, then took his hand, her grip firm despite her weakness. He pulled her up, steadying her as she swayed, and they made their way back to the River's Rest Inn, her leaning into him more than she had before. The town was quiet now, the streets empty.
Inside, the creaky stairs groaned under their weight, and Souta nudged the door to their room open with his shoulder.
Hinata moved toward her bed, but Souta stopped her with a light tug on her arm. "You're with me tonight," he said, nodding toward his bed. "You're shaking like a leaf—don't argue. I'll keep an eye on you. Plus, that mattress over there's got a spring that'll stab you in the back. Trust me, I felt it last night."
She opened her mouth to protest, then closed it, her flush deepening as she nodded. "Fine," she muttered, too tired to fight him. He helped her settle onto his bed, the blanket still draped around her shoulders, and she sank into it with a quiet sigh. Souta kicked off his boots and slid in beside her, keeping a careful distance but close enough to feel her warmth. The bed was narrow, the mattress lumpy, but it didn't matter. She was here, alive, and that was enough.
He lay on his side, propped on one elbow, watching her as she settled. The lantern light cast soft shadows across her face, highlighting the sharp line of her jaw, the gentle curve of her lips. She wasn't the Hinata he'd pictured from those old Naruto, stuttering, always in the background. This Hinata was different, perfect in a way that hit him hard. At 25, she'd grown into herself—mature, steady, with a quiet strength that didn't need to shout. Her figure, even under the loose kimono and cloak, was striking—curves that spoke of power and grace, a body honed by years of training yet softened by something undeniably feminine. He'd caught glimpses over the days: the swell of her chest, fuller than he'd expected, the way her waist tapered before flaring into hips that moved with purpose. She was no shy girl—this was the Hinata from that last movie.
"You're staring," she murmured, her eyes half-closed but catching his gaze.
"Caught me," he said, grinning unapologetically. "Just thinking—you're pretty damn cute, you know that?"
Her eyes snapped open, the flush returning full force as she glared at him, though it was softened by exhaustion. "Don't be ridiculous," she said, but her voice wavered, betraying her embarrassment. She shifted slightly, pulling the blanket tighter, but didn't turn away.