Hyuuga Princess

The 45th training dummy splintered with a final, gut-wrenching crack. Bits of wood sprayed across the polished floor of the Hyūga compound's private dojo as Hinata, panting, withdrew her trembling, bloodied hands. Her knuckles were split, her palms torn, chakra burns crawling like bruises over the skin. But she didn’t stop. Didn’t even blink.

Hanabi stood to the side, arms folded, her brows furrowed with growing concern. Her elder sister had been doing this every day since last month—since that announcement, since that wedding. The wedding of Naruto Uzumaki… to Sasuke Uchiha.

“Hinata-neesan…” she started quietly.

Hinata’s eyes were empty, stormclouds where once there was sunlight. Without a word, she turned to the next wooden dummy.

A branch family member, trembling, brought a new one forward. He fumbled, dropping it with a hollow thud. The sharp turn of Hinata’s glare made him freeze.

She said nothing. But her chakra flared. The man bowed quickly and fled the room.

Hanabi swallowed hard. This wasn't the sister she knew.

The silence cracked when footsteps echoed across the tatami.

Hiashi Hyūga, regal in his simplicity, approached slowly, his pale eyes watching every twitch of his daughter’s movements.

“…Hinata,” he said evenly. “Enough.”

She didn’t acknowledge him. Her chakra pulsed again—she struck the dummy in a flurry of sharp, precise blows. The chest shattered. The head cracked.

“Hinata.”

Still, she continued, until Hiashi stepped forward.

“If you're that desperate to be punished, spar with me.”

Hinata turned, her stance slipping into readiness, blood dripping from her fingers. Her Byakugan flared to life.

They moved.

It didn’t last a minute.

Hiashi’s palm struck her shoulder, then her ribs, then her thigh. She flew back, slammed into the floor, wind knocked out of her. Her chakra network quivered from the perfect Gentle Fist strikes.

Lying on her side, gasping, she looked up with tears burning behind her pale eyes.

Hiashi stood above her, cold and resolute.

“Your emotions are consuming you. This—” he gestured to the shattered dummy and the mess she’d become, “—this is not strength. It’s self-destruction.”

Hinata pushed herself up, weakly. “Naruto… Naruto married her… because she’s strong… So if I get stronger too, maybe he’ll—”

SLAP.

The sound cracked across the hall like thunder.

Hanabi flinched. Hinata’s head had turned from the force of it.

Hiashi's voice cut cold and deep. “Come back to your senses, child.”

Hinata stared at him, eyes wide with the shock of the blow more than the pain.

“It’s been a month. You’ve bled enough,” Hiashi said. “Naruto Uzumaki never loved you. Accept it.”

Hinata’s lips trembled.

“They love each other—not one-sided. Completely, utterly. They are bound by something deeper than you or I can understand. Their mothers were friends. Their fathers were rivals. Their very souls—Ashura and Indra—draw them to one another like fate.”

He let that sink in. Her hands curled on the floor, nails digging into her own skin.

“You cannot fight destiny. You can only rise with it… or drown.”

He turned his back on her and walked away, voice steady and final.

“Be practical, Hinata. Be mature. Don’t let this shame you further.”

The dojo door slid shut behind him.

And Hinata remained kneeling, silent tears staining the floor beneath her hands.

—T~T—

Sasuke had to admit—though she would never say it aloud, even if tortured—that waking up to Naruto’s dumb, snoring, farting face every morning was... absolutely worth it.

He looked so peaceful in sleep. Drool pooled on his pillow, his legs sometimes kicked the air like a dreaming mutt, and once—once—he’d muttered “Ramen-chan, don’t leave me” and Sasuke had to leave the room because she couldn’t stop laughing.

No, they didn’t share a futon yet. Not yet. But… Sasuke found herself looking forward to it. The day when sharing wasn’t some flustered idea thrown under excuses. The day it just... was.

For now, though, she had other things to deal with.

The old Uchiha garden had been left to rot after the massacre—vines strangled the stone walls, moss covered the broken tiles, weeds taller than her waist had devoured the once-proud rows of vegetables and flowers.

But today, she stood at the threshold, arms crossed and Sharingan glowing faintly as she surveyed the wreckage of a legacy.

Time to revive it.

Five shadow clones appeared in puffs of smoke beside her, each giving her a curt nod.

"Left section, start with the weeds," she ordered. "Middle—moss and vines. I'll handle the southeast plot."

"You’re turning into Naruto,” one clone muttered.

"At least I’m not arguing with myself in public like him," another clone grunted.

"I am you, idiot," a third hissed, tugging at a thick root.

Sasuke rolled her eyes. “Just get to work.”

The garden rang with effort—clones cursing, branches cracking, the occasional boom of an overzealous chakra burst. Sasuke summoned a long, pale snake with ink-dark eyes and a flicking tongue.

“Find pests. Use venom,” she instructed.

The snake coiled lazily over her shoulder, hissing approval. “Harmless to humans?”

“For now,” Sasuke smirked.

The two ANBU—Weasel and Hawk—watched from under the shade of the old sakura tree near the broken fountain, arms crossed and utterly expressionless.

Sasuke tried not to glare back. They’d been stuck to her like glue since her pardon. But… she hadn’t kicked them out. Not entirely. Not anymore.

She worked for hours. Sweat beaded down her brow, her gown sleeves rolled up, dirt streaked her arms. One clone had started humming a familiar song. Another grumbled something about tomato juice.

By late afternoon, the garden had finally started to breathe again.

She stood in the middle of cleared rows, panting lightly, proud.

Then, one by one, she knelt and began planting:

—A hundred tomato seeds, carefully spaced.

—Eggplants, firm and dark.

—Chilli peppers, sharp and mean.

—Potatoes, the good starchy kind Naruto loved.

—Onions, radishes, green beans, lettuce, and a hopeful row of spinach.

—Twelve herbal plants—gifted by Shino, who, oddly enough, was one of the only people she tolerated. The calming scent of lavender and mint already seemed to push the darkness out.

—And in one corner, a tidy plot of flowers—hyacinths, lilies, and a few sunflowers from the Yamanaka shop.

(That idiot Sai had delivered them. And—Kami help her—he’d asked, “So do Uchiha prefer dominant partners in bed or do you alternate?” She punched him so hard he crashed into her compost pit. The ANBU pretended to see nothing. Thankfully.)

With the last of the planting done, she wiped her brow, cracked her knuckles, and formed a single seal.

“Suiton: Gentle Stream Technique.”

A smooth spiral of water danced from her palm, weaving through the garden in a perfect rhythm—an old jutsu Suigetsu once used to lazily water his cactus plants during missions. She’d memorized it then. Didn’t expect to use it like this.

She watched the water soak the earth, the seeds nestled beneath.

A new beginning.

For the garden.

For her.

For the strange, ridiculous life she was choosing with Naruto.

She stood, stretched her sore back, and allowed herself a small, almost imperceptible smile.

Then she turned to the ANBU. “You two,” she called out.

They stiffened. “Yes?”

“…You hungry?”

A pause. A stomach growled.

Sasuke sighed, muttering, “Stupid Naruto’s influence.”

And walked toward the house.

—T~T—

The gates of the Hyuuga compound stood as always—tall, proud, cold as stone. Naruto had passed through them many times before, but today… it felt heavier.

Kurama had gone uncharacteristically silent, perhaps from guilt—or maybe from knowing Naruto wouldn’t hear any more of his "alpha pride" speeches right now. A rare peace in his head.

The Hyuuga guard at the front, a branch house shinobi in standard white robes, saw him approaching. His eyes widened just slightly, but he bowed deeply.

“Uzumaki-sama,” he said with utmost formality. “Hyuuga-sama is expecting you. Please, this way.”

“Ah, thanks,” Naruto replied, scratching the back of his neck. “You don’t have to call me that, though—”

“You are the Hokage Candidate and Uchiha-dono’s spouse. It is only appropriate.”

Naruto flinched at the reminder. “Right… yeah.”

He followed the guard down the familiar pale stone hallways. The silence of the Hyuuga compound was something he never quite got used to. No chirping birds, no idle chatter. Just the soft clack of slippers on polished floor.

The guard left him in a waiting room—minimalist to a fault. Tatami mats. A low table. Sliding paper doors. The quiet hum of the afternoon.

Naruto sat down cross-legged, fidgeting with the hem of his sleeve. The silence was louder here.

“She didn’t even show up to the birthday party…” he murmured.

Kurama shifted faintly in his mind. “She wouldn’t have enjoyed it. Her heart was too raw.”

“…You could’ve been less blunt.”

“I said what she needed to hear. I don’t coddle heartbreak.”

Naruto sighed and shut his eyes. “Still…”

The door slid open.

A girl about Konohamaru’s age stepped in, carrying a small tray with two ceramic cups on it. She wore a sleek lavender yukata and her bearing was composed—but her eyes were sharp. Almost eerily like Neji’s, except softer. Her hair was chocolate brown and tied in a simple ponytail.

She paused when she saw him.

“…So,” she said, placing the tray down, “you’re the reason my sister broke forty-seven training dummies in the last month.”

Naruto blinked. “Eh?!”

The girl sat opposite him with a short, amused sigh. “Name’s Hanabi. I’m Hinata’s younger sister.”

“Oh. Uh. Hi.” He scratched his cheek. “Sorry about the dummies.”

“They weren’t my dummies,” she replied with a shrug. “Still. You broke her heart. I should hate you.”

Naruto looked down. “…Yeah.”

Hanabi folded her arms. “I won’t lie. It’s a mess. But… I saw it coming. The way she looked at you was always different from how you looked at her.”

“…She was a good friend,” he said quietly. “A kind one. I never wanted to hurt her. But I…”

“I get it,” Hanabi cut in. “You love Sasuke.”

Naruto flushed slightly, still unused to saying it out loud. “Yeah. I do.”

Just then, the door slid open again.

Naruto stood up instantly.

Hiashi Hyuuga stepped into the room with his usual stately poise—head held high, white robes crisp, Byakugan at rest. But his expression wasn’t as stern as usual. There was something subdued in it.

“Naruto,” he said, and then, to Naruto’s surprise, bowed deeply at the waist. “You are the village’s future. And a far more honorable man than I. It is I who must show respect.”

“Oi, old man, don’t—!” Naruto waved his hands awkwardly, flustered. “You’re Hinata’s dad! And way more noble and classy and—”

Hiashi straightened. “Titles aside, you are the one who has earned the trust of the people. I would be remiss to treat you with anything less.”

Hanabi coughed lightly, “He also married an Uchiha, so... you know. Politics.”

“Hanabi,” Hiashi murmured without looking. She raised her hands in mock surrender and stood.

“I’ll leave you two to talk.” She gave Naruto a look. “Try not to cause any more emotional destruction.”

With that, she slid the door shut behind her.

Hiashi moved to sit across from Naruto and gestured toward the tea.

“Would you like some?”

Naruto shook his head. “No thanks. I’m still full from lunch. Had Udon and tempura.”

Hiashi nodded and folded his hands on his lap. “You’ve changed, Uzumaki-san. You carry yourself with more… calm.”

“Heh,” Naruto chuckled sheepishly. “Sasuke says I’m still a whirlwind.”

“And yet you grounded her,” Hiashi said.

Naruto looked up in surprise.

“She was always a stray flame. Flickering, hard to grasp, wounded deeply. But ever since your union, she has begun to root herself again. I never thought I’d say it, but… she looks more at peace now.”

Naruto rubbed his neck, his cheeks faintly pink. “That’s... good to hear.”

“Is your married life satisfying?”

Naruto blinked, nearly choking. “Wha—? I mean—uh—yes? I think so?”

Hiashi arched a brow. “You think so?”

“No! I mean—yes. Yes! We’re happy! I think. Mostly. Sasuke’s—uh—still getting used to it. But we sleep in the same room now! And she’s helping in the garden. And I cook! Sometimes. She yells when I burn things but doesn’t punch me anymore. That’s a good sign, right?”

Hiashi just blinked slowly. “Quite.”

Naruto chuckled nervously. “It’s weird though. I always thought love was like… fireworks. But with her, it’s more like… like gravity. It pulls me. Steady. Strong. I don’t always get what she’s thinking but…”

He looked down at his bandaged hand resting on his thigh. “…I’d still fight the world for her.”

Hiashi regarded him for a long moment, then gave a quiet, approving nod.

“Well said, Uzumaki-san.” He poured a cup of tea for himself. “Now… let us discuss my daughter.”

—T~T—

Naruto shifted on the tatami mat, fingers curling into the fabric of his pants. The silence hung heavy until he spoke, eyes steady on Hiashi’s.

“I came to see Hinata.”

Hiashi’s face remained composed, unreadable, but his answer was immediate and firm. “She is in her room. And she refuses to come out.”

Naruto sat up straighter. “Then I’ll go to her.”

Hiashi’s tone sharpened like a blade slipping from its sheath. “You will do no such thing.”

Naruto blinked. “But—”

“She is not a child to be coddled, and this behavior—this indulgent retreat—is hers to fix. Not yours to soothe.”

A gust of wind stirred the paper screens. Naruto’s mouth opened again, but Hiashi cut in, voice low and edged with something bitter, perhaps old frustration finally bleeding through decades of Hyuuga stoicism.

“You may not know this, Naruto, but Hinata… has always chased you.”

Naruto frowned. “What’s wrong with—?”

“Everything,” Hiashi said, and for once, it wasn’t coldness in his voice. It was exhaustion. Sadness. “She skipped her training to follow you through the village like a shadow. Her instructors reported it, her tutors grew weary. Her cousin—Neji—found it foolish, and I agreed. But I said nothing, hoping time would straighten her path.”

He set his cup down with a soft click, eyes narrowing faintly.

“She gave you her team’s ointment in the Chuunin Exams, even though her own teammate was on the verge of collapse. Kiba nearly suffered a collapsed lung—but it was you she rushed to. She forgot her team, her duty, her mission.”

Naruto opened his mouth to defend her, but Hiashi was already continuing.

“During the Pein assault, she stood back, paralyzed while her teammates fought to protect civilians. But when Pein struck you—only then did she move. She confessed, unprompted, throwing herself in harm’s way. And when you saw her fall, you lost control. You destroyed the village again with your own power. She knew that might happen.”

Naruto’s hands trembled.

“In the war,” Hiashi said, voice heavy, “her eyes never strayed from you. Wounded comrades were ignored while she stared at the one man in the field who could regenerate wounds faster than they formed. I watched it happen. She froze when she needed to move. She flinched when she needed to fight. And when Neji—her own blood—died shielding her and you… her first thought wasn’t for her brother’s body still warm in her arms. It was for you.”

Hiashi folded his hands together, knuckles whitening.

“You are a good man, Naruto. A brave one. And I do not fault you for the feelings you do not return. But my daughter… has made a habit of building her identity around chasing something she never understood. That must end. She is not a child anymore, nor a fairytale heroine.”

Naruto swallowed, throat tight. “…I didn’t mean to hurt her.”

“I know.”

“I never… wanted to make her feel like this.”

“You didn’t,” Hiashi said simply. “She chose to feel this way. She let herself spiral into delusion. Even now, she sulks in her room like a heartbroken fool while the clan walks on eggshells around her. It is not your responsibility to fix that. Nor mine, truly. But I am her father—and if I do not put her on the right path now, she will destroy herself.”

Naruto closed his eyes for a long moment.

“…Tell her I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “Even if I didn’t do anything… I want her to know that I— I never meant to…”

“No,” Hiashi said flatly. “You have done nothing to apologise for. If anything, it is she who must apologize. For putting her desires above her duties. For confusing obsession with love. And for never understanding your heart in the first place.”

There was nothing left to say.

Naruto bowed low. Not because he had to, but because somewhere inside, he still felt the ache of loss—for the friend she had once been.

“Thank you for your time, Hiashi-sama.”

“Walk in peace, Naruto. And do not look back.”

Naruto turned, sliding the door open with a soft scrape of wood. The silence behind him lingered like the cold before snow.

And he left the Hyuuga compound with heavy steps, beneath a sun that suddenly didn’t feel so warm.

—T~T—

Naruto walked into the house with his hands in his pockets, face downcast, dragging his sandals across the wooden floor like a kid who’d just flunked a test. He didn’t even take off his jacket, just flopped face-first onto the couch and groaned into the cushion.

Sasuke’s voice called from the kitchen, over the gentle sizzle of something on the pan.

“What happened?”

Naruto muffled something into the pillow.

“Speak like a normal person,” she said flatly.

He turned his face to the side with a sigh. “It’s nothin’ serious. Just… Iruka-sensei’s test is tomorrow.”

Sasuke raised an eyebrow as she stirred the pot. “And?”

“If I pass that,” Naruto muttered, “Tsunade-baachan’s gonna take over my training.”

Sasuke blinked. “That’s good news, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” he said, sitting up and rubbing his face. “Good news for my death certificate. Do you know how she trains people? She once punched a boulder into the sky. And the last time she sparred with Jiraiya, half the hot spring blew up. She broke four tables and a ceiling fan, ‘ttebayo.”

“You survived worse.”

“Barely! I saw her drop a full-grown bear by flicking it in the nose! I’m not a bear, S’ke!”

“Debatable,” she muttered.

He leaned back again, sighing. “She says the Hokage needs grace under pressure, mental resilience, strategic prowess, and above all—strong bones.”

Sasuke hummed, then looked over her shoulder. “Hey. Do you notice anything new about me?”

Naruto blinked.

Kurama’s voice growled in his head immediately. “It’s a trap. Don’t fall for it. This is how they start. Say nothing. Pretend to be blind.”

Naruto sat up straight and slapped his hands together. “Sage Mode!”

His eyes turned golden with slitted pupils and his senses sharpened to their highest.

“Your hair oil’s new,” he said quickly, grinning. “Something with aloe? Maybe chrysanthemum. You trimmed your hair too. By 0.6 centimeters—on the left, near the nape.”

Sasuke turned slowly, one eye twitching.

“You’ve been working in the garden,” he continued. “There’s clay under your fingernails, specifically from the northeast quadrant near the tomato patches. Your left sleeve smells faintly of Yamanaka flower shop—so maybe you went today. You also got a new bruise on your left ankle, probably from tripping over a rake, but you’re pretending like you didn’t.”

Sasuke stared.

“Also, your chakra is a little warmer than usual. Did you meditate this afternoon? Oh—and your left fang tooth is sharper today. Did you polish it?”

There was a long silence.

Sasuke turned back to the stove. “Let’s just eat.”

“Eh?”

“Before you become any more of a stalker.”

They sat at the low table. Naruto, still glowing with Sage Mode, picked up his spoon, grinned, and took a hearty scoop of curry.

The spoon cracked in half as soon as he bit it.

“…Ow.”

Sasuke blinked. “Still in Sage Mode, aren’t you?”

Naruto pouted with the broken spoon between his teeth. “Guess so.”

Sasuke passed him chopsticks. “Use wood. Less property damage.”

He grinned sheepishly and took them. They ate quietly for a while, the warm sound of clinking dishes and the soft chirping of night bugs outside filling the room. Naruto scooted closer and leaned just a little on her shoulder.

“You didn’t have to cook, y’know. I could’ve made ramen.”

“You say that like it’s a good thing.”

He laughed. “Well, yeah. I’m a man of refined taste.”

Sasuke didn’t answer, but her shoulder didn’t move away. In fact, she leaned back—just a little.

Dinner ended with Naruto licking the last of the curry from his bowl and Sasuke pretending she wasn’t amused. The futons weren’t rolled out yet, but both of them lingered at the table.

“I like coming home to this,” Naruto said softly.

Sasuke didn’t say anything at first. Then, barely loud enough to hear:

“…Me too.”

—T~T—

Sasuke screamed.

Naruto jolted awake instantly, his body reacting before his mind caught up. The sound had been sharp, raw, the kind of cry that came from a wound far deeper than flesh. He scrambled to her side without thinking.

She was curled up on her futon, clutching the blanket like a lifeline, face contorted in fear, eyes wide open but unseeing. Trembling. Breathing fast and shallow.

Again?

Naruto didn’t waste time with words. He knelt beside her, pulled her into his arms, and let his chakra flow—warm, steady, golden like a sunrise seeping into the cracks of a cold world. She flinched at first, then sagged against him like a threadbare puppet losing tension.

He felt her hiccup softly, her arms weakly curling around his middle. She nuzzled into his chest, face damp with tears, breath hitching.

“It’s okay… you’re safe,” he whispered into her hair, rocking her slightly. “I’m right here, S’ke.”

No response—just the quiet shiver of someone slowly returning to herself.

Kurama, wide awake and coiled like a lazy cat inside Naruto’s mind, offered no snide comment. Not this time. Maybe he was enjoying the sight of an Uchiha at her most vulnerable. Or maybe, even he knew when to stay silent.

Naruto didn’t try to pry, didn’t ask what the nightmare was about. He knew better than to dig into those scars. This wasn’t the first time, and probably not the last.

He waited until her breathing evened out, until her grip softened, before attempting to pull away.

Only—he couldn’t.

Sasuke’s arm locked around his waist like a vice, and even half-asleep, her grip was deadly. He tugged once, twice. No use.

Naruto sighed, defeated.

“Well… guess I’m sleeping here tonight.”

He carefully shifted to lie down beside her on the futon, letting her arm remain across his chest. Her breath tickled his collarbone, her hair brushed against his cheek. Her scent—earthy from the garden, a hint of lavender, something warm and utterly hers—filled his nose.

She looked peaceful now, eyes closed, mouth parted slightly in sleep. The moonlight through the shoji screen kissed her pale skin, softening her sharp features into something... tender.

Naruto swallowed. “She’s kinda cute like this,” he muttered to himself. “Warm too. I could get used to this.” Not to mention the feeling of her modest chest against him was nice—

Kurama snorted in the back of his mind. “Dirty thoughts, huh? Your dead Pervy Sage would’ve been proud.”

“Shut up, Kurama.” Naruto scowled mentally.

“I didn’t say anything.”

He settled deeper into the futon, pulling the blanket over both of them. Sasuke murmured something incoherent and tightened her hold, her head pressing just under his chin. Naruto blinked, heart strangely full.

“She’s not so scary when she sleeps…”

Kurama sighed. “You’re whipped already.”

Naruto smiled despite himself, eyes finally drooping shut.

Maybe he was. Maybe he didn’t mind.

—T~T—

The morning sun filtered in softly through the paper-thin shoji screens, casting golden lattices across the futon.

Sasuke stirred.

Her lashes fluttered, and consciousness dragged itself up from the murky weight of dreams. A strange warmth, a steady pressure, and—

Something wet.

On her cheek.

Sticky. Warm. Like glue.

She blinked. Once. Twice. Slowly tilted her head to the side—

And froze.

Naruto’s face was inches from hers, his mouth slightly open, his breath warm against her skin. His arm was draped firmly over her waist, his legs tangled with hers in a manner that could only be described as primal. Like two monkeys in a heatless jungle. And yes—that wetness on her cheek?

Drool.

She stared at the glistening trail on her skin in mild horror.

Once upon a time, she would’ve slammed him across the room. No hesitation, no mercy. Uchiha pride demanded swift retribution for such indignities.

But this morning… she simply sighed.

And gently wiped the drool from her face with the edge of the blanket. No yelling. No genjutsu. No punching.

She stared at his sleeping face. That stupid spiky hair, the little wrinkle between his brows, his lips slack, muttering nonsense in his sleep. And somehow… it made her heart ache. Not in the painful way—but the warm, slow, quiet way that creeps in when you’re not paying attention.

She buried her face lightly in his chest, inhaling. He smelled like wind and leaves, a little sweat, and something familiar—like home. He radiated comfort, a heat that wasn't just from his body but from his presence.

Safe. That was the word.

She let her arms curl tighter around him, letting her forehead rest against his neck. His heartbeat was steady. Her fingers flexed slightly on his back, feeling the strength and calm beneath his skin.

She whispered into the morning stillness, voice too quiet to be heard.

“Idiot…”

And smiled.

—T~T—