The morning mist still clung low over the quiet forest, weaving through the undergrowth like a ghost reluctant to leave. The soft crunch of Sasuke's boots echoed across the clearing as he returned, his cloak fluttering behind him, still damp from dew and nightfall.
Inside the wooden cabin, Hikari stirred. She had barely slept.
The night before had been… strange.
Sasuke had returned late, his silence unusually heavy. He had tended to a shallow cut on his hand but brushed her off when she offered help. But when she stood beside him, her fingers grazing his as she took the cloth from him, he didn't pull away.
He never allowed touch unless necessary.
But last night, he hadn't just allowed it.
He had paused.
Frozen.
Staring.
Not at the wound, not at the cloth.
But at her.
Even now, she could still feel the heat of that moment his eyes sharp, unreadable, yet holding something far more dangerous than indifference.
Yearning?
She shook her head. Don't be ridiculous.
Outside, she heard the door creak open, followed by footsteps.
"You're up," his voice said flatly.
Aiko turned from the stove, her hands busy stirring the porridge she had started.
"I never really slept."
"Bad dreams?"
"No," she replied simply, then hesitated. "Just… too many thoughts."
Sasuke said nothing as he removed his cloak and draped it over the nearby hook. Drops of water landed on the floor.
She glanced at his back. So lean. So controlled. So distant.
But not last night.
Not when his hand had brushed hers.
Not when she had looked up and seen his guard falter.
And definitely not when, in the soft candlelight, he had whispered her name without realizing.
He sat across the table, his gaze fixed on the small bowl she slid toward him. "Eat."
He did. Slowly. Methodically. But his eyes didn't leave her.
"I'll be gone again tonight," he said finally, breaking the silence.
"For how long?"
"I'm not sure."
She tried to hide her disappointment. "Is it dangerous?"
"All missions are," he answered, his tone colder than necessary.
"I see," she said, lowering her gaze.
There it was again distance.
He was building it back.
Reinforcing it like a fortress after a crack had shown.
A crack she felt when his fingers lingered on hers.
That afternoon, Hikari wandered the edge of the stream near the cabin, the air cool against her skin. She sat on the rocks, staring at her reflection, and touched her own cheek.
She wasn't a kunoichi. She wasn't powerful. She wasn't even worthy of being called Uchiha's wife.
Yet here she was his secret.
A woman hidden beneath layers of shadow and silence.
She didn't know if it was love.
He never said it.
But the way he stood close when she slept too deep.
The way he turned his head whenever someone got too close to her on rare visits to the market.
And the way his voice cracked barely perceptibly when she once told him he could leave for good if he wanted to.
It meant something.
Didn't it?
Suddenly, a presence shifted behind her.
She didn't even hear his steps.
But she felt him.
He was always like that appearing when she least expected it.
"You weren't supposed to return until tomorrow," she said, not turning around.
"I finished early."
She smiled faintly. "Or maybe you missed the porridge."
Sasuke didn't answer.
She stood and faced him, brushing a few strands of hair behind her ear.
"You're hurt," she said, noticing a fresh gash on his collarbone. "Again."
"I've had worse."
"I know. But let me"
"I said it's fine."
She stepped closer anyway, eyes defiant.
"You always say that. But you're bleeding."
He sighed and let her.
Her fingers touched his skin gently, cleaning the wound. He hissed a little, but didn't stop her. Not this time.
Her breath caught. This close, she could smell the forest on him. The wind. The lightning. The storm.
Her heart thudded painfully.
Then she felt it.
A hand his hand resting lightly on her hip.
Hesitant.
Unsure.
But there.
She froze.
"Sasuke…" she whispered, barely audible.
His gaze was unreadable, but not empty.
No.
Never empty.
"Don't," he murmured.
"Don't what?"
"Don't… say anything."
Her hands trembled slightly. "Why?"
"Because if you say something, it makes it real."
"And is that so bad?"
His eyes darkened.
"Yes."
She swallowed hard.
"Because real things," he continued, "can be taken away."
He stepped back, and the warmth disappeared with him.
And just like that, the Uchiha mask was back in place.
He turned away, his cloak fluttering again as he walked into the fading twilight.
Leaving her standing there.
Heart pounding.
Alone with the ghost of a touch he'd never admit.
The wind howled outside. Leaves scratched against the windows like whispers desperate to be heard.
Aiko lay awake, staring at the ceiling. The bed beside her was empty again.
But not for long.
The door creaked.
She didn't move.
He entered, quietly. Slowly. As if unsure he should.
She felt the mattress dip slightly as he sat down.
Still, silence.
Then, a voice.
"I had a dream," he murmured.
She turned her head to look at him. "You dream?"
"Rarely."
"Was it… bad?"
"No."
He was staring ahead, not at her.
"It was raining," he continued. "You were standing in the field. I was walking away."
Her chest tightened.
"But you called my name."
He finally turned.
"And I came back."
They didn't speak for a long while.
Then, she reached out slowly, like a question.
He didn't stop her this time.
Fingers touched. Gently. Hesitantly.
But together.
And in that fragile space between them, under the cloak of darkness and hidden names, a truth hung in the air:
Sometimes, a man can de
ny everything.
His past.
His pain.
Even his heart.
But his touch the one he keeps hidden from the world tells a story he'll never speak aloud.
A story that begins and ends with the girl who sees him... even when he tries so hard to disappear.