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.
"Serious question, though," he said, leaning closer, his tone teasing but curious. "What's your size? I mean, you're packing some serious—" He gestured vaguely at her chest, his smile widening. "Gotta be, what, 105? 106? that's for sure."
Hinata's face went from red to volcanic. "You—!" she sputtered, and before he could dodge, her leg shot out, kicking him square in the stomach. It wasn't full force—she was too weak for that—but it was enough to send him tumbling off the bed with a yelp, landing on the floor in a heap. The boards creaked under him, and he groaned, rubbing his gut as he looked up at her.
"Worth it," he wheezed, laughing despite the ache. "Totally worth it."
She glared down at him, her hair falling messily around her face, but the corner of her mouth twitched, fighting a smile. "You're an idiot," she said, pulling the blanket up to her chin. "Get back up here before I kick you again."
He climbed back onto the bed, still chuckling, and settled beside her, this time keeping his hands to himself. "Noted. No more size questions. You're still cute, though. And badass. Perfect combo."
"Shut up," she muttered, but she shifted closer, her shoulder brushing his as she closed her eyes. The tension eased out of her, her breathing slowing, and Souta watched her drift off, the faint rise and fall of her chest a quiet reassurance.
The night stretched on, the river's hum a steady lullaby through the window. Souta didn't sleep much—just dozed, waking every so often to check on her.
By morning, the first light crept in, soft and gray, and Hinata stirred beside him. Her eyes fluttered open, clearer than they'd been in days, and she looked at him, a small, sleepy smile breaking through. "You're still here," she said, her voice hoarse.
"Told you," he replied, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Not going anywhere. You're stuck with me, poison or not."
She didn't reply, just nodded, and for the first time in days, she looked like she believed it.
...
The morning air bit at Souta's face as he stepped out of River's Rest Inn, the river's rush a steady roar behind him. The town was still half-asleep—merchants stirring at their stalls, smoke trickling from chimneys in lazy curls. Hinata leaned against the doorframe, her blanket draped over her shoulders like a cloak, her pale eyes tracking him as he adjusted his pack. She was steadier than yesterday, the shadowroot antidote still holding the poison at bay, but those dark lines on her arm hadn't faded, a quiet reminder that time wasn't on their side.
"You good to move?" he asked, slinging the pack over one shoulder, his voice rough from a night of fitful dozing. She'd slept close—too close, maybe—and he could still feel the ghost of her warmth against his side.
Hinata nodded, pushing off the frame with a faint wince. "I can walk," she said, her tone firm despite the tremor in her legs. She took a step, then another, but her knees buckled on the third, and she caught herself against the wall, breathing hard.
"Yeah, right," Souta muttered, stepping in front of her. "You're not walking anywhere like that. Come on—up you go." Before she could argue, he turned, crouching low. "Hop on. I'll carry you."
Her eyes widened, a flush creeping up her neck. "Souta, I'm fine—really, I can—"
"Bullshit," he cut her off, glancing back with a grin. "You're about to face-plant, and I'm not dragging you through the mud when it starts raining. Get on, or I'll throw you over my shoulder like a sack of rice. Your choice."
She glared at him, her lips pressing into a thin line, but the fight drained out of her as another wave of weakness hit. With a sigh, she relented, stepping closer and gingerly wrapping her arms around his neck. "This is ridiculous," she muttered, her breath warm against his ear as she climbed onto his back.
"Ridiculous is you thinking you're gonna hike ten miles like that," he shot back, hooking his arms under her knees and hoisting her up. She settled against him, lighter than he'd expected for someone who could knock out rogues in seconds. He straightened, adjusting his grip, and started down the road, her weight a steady pressure against his spine.
The first thing he noticed was how she fit against him. Her chest pressed into his back, soft and unmistakable even through her kimono and his cloak, and yeah, he felt it—those curves he'd teased her about last night, warm and firm, shifting slightly with each step. A jolt of heat shot through him, and he smirked to himself, keeping his eyes on the path. 105 cm, huh? Maybe more. Definitely more than Mikoto or Kushina. It wasn't just the size—it was the way she felt, alive and close, her heartbeat thudding faintly against his shoulder blades. He'd be lying if he said it didn't feel nice. Damn nice.
"You're smirking," Hinata said, her voice low, a hint of suspicion cutting through her exhaustion. Her chin rested on his shoulder, her breath tickling his neck.
"Am not," he lied, his grin widening. "Just enjoying the scenery. River's pretty this morning."
"Right," she said, dry as dust, but he caught the faint twitch of her lips against his ear. She didn't push it—too tired, maybe, or just letting him have this one. Her arms tightened slightly around his neck, her fingers brushing his collarbone, and he decided right then that carrying her was the best idea he'd had all week.
The road stretched west, winding through patchy woods and open fields toward the next town—Kawa Crossing, a trading hub a day's trek away if he kept a decent pace. Souta had overheard a merchant at the inn muttering about a healer there, some old guy who'd patched up shinobi during the last war. If anyone had a lead on a real cure—something stronger than shadowroot—it'd be there.