Paid In Promises: Chapter 20: The Man From The Moon (Patreon)

The marketplace was buzzing like a beehive, hawkers calling out prices, children chasing stray cats, and the scent of grilled sweet potatoes and roasted sesame hanging in the summer air.

Sasuke walked through it with her usual quiet grace, dressed in one of her simple knee-length gowns, the kind her mother once wore. Soft indigo with long sleeves, no Uchiha crest, no grandeur—just clean lines and silence. Her sandals padded lightly on the stone path, a woven bag hanging from her elbow, filled with empty bottles for refills of shampoo, conditioner, and that rare snake-oil soap Orochimaru once insisted would do wonders for split ends.

She stepped into a general goods shop tucked near the end of the street. The bell above the door gave a soft chime.

The shopkeeper, an older man with a balding head and a crooked smile, lit up the moment he recognized her.

“Lady Sasuke,” he beamed. “Welcome back! Ah, it’s always an honor. The wife of the Hero of the Fourth Shinobi War. Please, let me know if you need anything. It's on the house.”

Sasuke raised an unimpressed brow. “Charge me full price.”

“But, you and Naruto-sama—”

She cut him off. “We don’t take charity. Just make the bill.”

The man nodded, fumbling quickly behind the counter, not daring to argue.

As she set her items on the counter—a jar of mint-infused oil, some balm, toothpaste, hair ties—the door behind her jingled again.

Soft footsteps. Sasuke didn’t even glance.

Then a familiar voice. Thin. Shaky. Like a candle’s flame on the verge of snuffing out.

“Must feel nice.”

Sasuke turned slowly, brows furrowing.

There she was.

The Hyuuga girl.

The one who used to follow Naruto everywhere, eyes always wide, breath always catching like she might fall over if he so much as blinked at her.

What was her name?

Sasuke stared blankly.

“...To be Naruto’s wife,” Hinata said, her lips pressed into a faint line.

Sasuke blinked. “Excuse me?”

Hinata’s hands were clenched around a tiny bag of herbs, knuckles white. She was still looking at the shelves, not at Sasuke, as if the words weren’t meant to be said aloud, but were slipping anyway.

“I always thought…” Hinata swallowed. “Since we were kids… That if I just stayed beside him… one day, he’d notice me. That he’d… look at me.”

Sasuke said nothing. She shifted slightly to let the shopkeeper continue ringing up her items.

Hinata’s voice shook more.

“But then he started… changing. And I watched from a distance. Always from a distance. Even when I tried to be closer. You were always... closer. Even when you weren’t.”

Sasuke narrowed her eyes. “What do you want?”

Hinata finally turned to look at her. Her face was pale, but her eyes—Byakugan or not—looked raw and tired.

“I just wanted to know,” she said. “Is he happy?”

Sasuke was caught off-guard by the question. Her arms stiffened.

“Yes,” she replied.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Hinata bit her lip hard. Her eyes brimmed suddenly, tears sliding down without warning. She didn’t sob, didn’t wail—just cried quietly, like she’d done it a thousand times before.

Sasuke stared.

“Don’t hurt him,” Hinata whispered. “If you hurt him, I’ll kill you.”

And then she turned and walked out, her slippers scuffing the stone as the door jingled behind her.

The shopkeeper glanced awkwardly between Sasuke and the exit. Sasuke gave no reaction, just picked up her bag, paid her full amount, and left.

Outside, the sun felt a bit too warm.

“Waste of time,” she muttered, adjusting her bag and heading back home.

—T~T—

The clang of glasses, the dull thrum of distant laughter, and the smell of sake thick in the air—Naruto sat at a low table in a half-lit corner of the old Konoha bar Tsunade had claimed as her unofficial office. The bar owner had learned not to question the ex-Hokage’s presence long ago, especially when she slapped down enough ryo to pay for half a month’s rent in one sitting.

Naruto rubbed the rising bump on his forehead, wincing.

“Did you have to hit me with the full bottle, Baa-chan?” he muttered, cheeks puffed.

Tsunade sat opposite him, arms crossed, sipping daintily from a sake saucer like she hadn’t just committed blunt force trauma with it. Her golden hair was tied up in her usual twin ponytails, a few strands loose, eyes sharp.

“That wasn’t a bottle. That was a love tap.”

She slammed a thick scroll on the table. “Now focus. You want to be Hokage, you better learn how to handle more than just Rasengan and paperwork. You need to know politics, land negotiations, alliance maintenance, resource allocation, and how to stop giving everyone free ramen out of the national food budget!”

Naruto groaned. “It was just twice!”

“Sixteen, Naruto.” Tsunade raised an eyebrow. “You signed sixteen Ichiraku subsidies in one month.”

“It was war-time morale!”

“It was after the war.”

Naruto slumped forward, cheek on the wood, mumbling. “I didn’t sign up to be yelled at in a bar…”

Tsunade grabbed him by the collar, hauled him up, and pressed the scroll into his hand. “And I didn’t retire to babysit a brat with more heart than brains. Start reading.”

He squinted at the dense text. “What's ‘inter-regional logistics interdependency?’”

Tsunade took a long sip. “It means when the Rice Country sneezes, Fire Country runs out of rice balls. Now read section twelve.”

Naruto flipped the scroll, found section twelve, and was halfway into mumbling something about treaty renewals before—

Smack!

He slammed back against the wall, another bump rising.

“Ow! What now?!”

“You pronounced the Raikage’s name wrong,” she said, deadly calm. “If you do that in an official letter, it’ll be war.”

Naruto groaned and slumped again. “S'ke’s better at this stuff…”

Tsunade refilled her cup. “Sasuke’s not becoming Hokage. You are. So grow a spine and learn when to say no. Even to people you love. Especially them.”

Naruto looked up, lips pressing together. “...Okay.”

They sat in a rare silence, save for the clatter of cups and the old drunk humming in the corner.

Then:

“Baa-chan?”

“Hmm?”

“...Thanks.”

She didn’t reply, just shoved another scroll at him.

“Start on that one. And if you mess up again, I’ll break your arm.”

Naruto laughed nervously, sweat dripping. “Nice to know you haven’t mellowed out in retirement…”

“Shut up and read, brat.”

—T~T—

Days bled into weeks, and weeks into months. Summer faded into a crisp amber gold, and the Uchiha compound—once silent and hollow—began to feel lived in again.

Naruto and Sasuke moved like planets in orbit now, never colliding, yet always revolving around each other with quiet gravity. The routine became almost sacred.

Mornings began with Naruto crashing out of bed, hair messy, yawning curses at the sun while Sasuke sipped tea in the engawa, already dressed in her clean, dark gown, eyes distant, watching the garden stretch under the morning light. They rarely exchanged words that early—Naruto was barely coherent, and Sasuke liked the stillness. But some days, he would pause beside her and murmur, “Good morning, S’ke,” soft as the dew on her tomatoes.

On Fridays, Sasuke watered the plants with quiet reverence. Her garden was no longer just dirt and weeds. It was a tapestry of green—thick tomato vines, eggplants heavy and purple, chili stalks, and rows of potatoes. The herbal patch Shino had gifted her was thriving, the medicinal scent softening the air. And when she picked her first tomato, cradling it like a newborn, she had smiled—tiny, rare, genuine.

Naruto trained with Tsunade every day but Friday—his “survival day” as he called it—where he nursed his bruises with hot packs and bowls of ramen. In the afternoons, he trained again at the Uchiha grounds. Sasuke often sat under the old camphor tree, eyes half-lidded, arms crossed, watching him sweat and stumble and sometimes fall with a grunt. Sometimes she’d join, and their spars turned into dance-like brawls filled with taunts and grinning jabs.

“Getting slow, Bastard—”

“Then maybe stop talking, Dobe.”

Sometimes they ended breathless, chests heaving, hands gripped together in the dirt, laughter spilling between them before they collapsed side by side in the shade.

Sakura would visit sometimes, mostly unannounced.

“Honestly,” she’d say, raising an eyebrow at Naruto and Sasuke eating dango off the same stick. “You two are either the slowest romance in history or secretly a married couple for a decade.”

“We’re both,” Naruto replied proudly, licking the last bit of syrup from Sasuke’s fingers before she could protest.

Ino dropped by with more flower bulbs. Sai watched them with his blank expression and asked deeply personal questions that always ended with Sasuke punching his shoulder and him bowing in apology. Shikamaru came once and took a nap in the garden. Choji brought meat. Kiba brought awkward jokes. Shino just nodded, gave Sasuke a rare herb, and left.

Sometimes, Naruto and Sasuke would walk through the quieter parts of Konoha, side by side, hands brushing but rarely holding. He’d point at a dumpling shop and go, “Date night?” and she’d roll her eyes and say “No,” then still end up following him in. They shared drinks, shared food, shared lazy afternoons by the river. He taught her how to float with his chakra; she failed and dragged him under, twice.

They didn’t sleep in the same futon, not yet.

Not because they didn’t want to. Just… it wasn’t time.

But they kissed now. Sometimes just a brush of lips, sometimes longer. Sometimes Sasuke would kiss him on the cheek while he was half-asleep and deny it later. Naruto would catch her hand mid-meal and press his lips to her knuckles. She’d pull back, flustered, and mutter about “public decency” while he just grinned.

Some evenings, she summoned Garuda, soaring over the rooftops in a blur of feathers, her hair streaming behind her. Other days, she curled in the grass with her white snake companion coiled near her ankles, peaceful.

And life… just continued.

Not perfect. Not always peaceful.

But it was theirs. And they were learning, together.

—T~T—

Winter was creeping into Konoha like a sly fox—biting winds, cloudy skies, and the crisp scent of frost on the rooftops. The first snows hadn’t fallen yet, but the chill was sharp enough to turn breath into clouds. So naturally, Naruto had dragged Sasuke to the market.

"These gloves are too long!" Naruto whined, pulling on a fuzzy orange pair that reached halfway to his elbows. "I look like a tailed beast trying to cosplay a snowman."

Sasuke, dressed in her dark knee-length winter coat, tugged a thick gray scarf tighter around her neck and rolled her eyes. "Maybe you wouldn't look like a fool if you didn’t pick the loudest pair in the store."

"But they’re warm! And they match my—hey! Put that back!" Naruto lunged for a hideous neon green beanie Sasuke had plucked from the pile.

"I was just checking if it matched your taste. It does." She dropped it with exaggerated disgust.

"Oi! My taste is awesome! You're just bitter you dress like a ghost in mourning."

"Elegance, Dobe. Not everyone has the subtlety of a fruit salad."

"Is that a compliment or a murder attempt?"

Thankfully, Sakura showed up before the great fashion war escalated further. She arrived in a red peacoat, cheeks pink from the wind, and greeted them both with an exasperated sigh.

“Why is it that every time I meet you two, I have to play peacekeeper?”

“Because she started it,” Naruto said, pointing at Sasuke like a child.

“He picked orange earmuffs with fox ears,” Sasuke deadpanned. “Your future Hokage.”

Sakura laughed, then skillfully began sorting through coats, scarves, and mittens, handing them proper colors and fits. "Here. Try this wool blend. And no, Naruto, it does not come in bright orange. Count your blessings."

“Ugh,” Naruto groaned. “I should’ve come alone.”

“You would’ve bought a scarf made of ramen wrappers,” Sasuke replied dryly.

As they stood near the counter, Naruto looked at Sakura and nudged her lightly. “You know… you should find a partner too. This whole shopping and third-wheeling thing? Not a good look for the strongest kunoichi in the village.”

Sakura smirked. “Just because you married early doesn’t mean the rest of us have to rush. I’m only eighteen. I’ve got goals.”

“Yeah, but don’t you want someone to cuddle with in winter?” Naruto waggled his brows. “Preferably someone who doesn't insult your fashion sense.”

Sasuke cut in, “That rules out Naruto.”

“True,” Sakura laughed. “But you two are disgustingly domestic already. I’ll survive.”

Sasuke and Naruto exchanged a glance at that. Neither commented. Instead, Naruto sheepishly asked, “Do you think we’re… disgusting?”

“Cute-disgusting,” she clarified. “Like a pair of stray cats who started wearing matching collars.”

Later that night, the chill of winter settled harder than expected.

Naruto lay curled in his futon, clutching a corner of the blanket like a dying man. His teeth chattered. “I swear on ramen, I’m freezing. I thought Konoha never got this cold!”

Kurama rumbled in his mind, unimpressed. “Tell Sasuke to breathe fire. Or use a eye bomb to warm the room.”

“That would kill us all, fuzzball.”

“Then suffer.”

He considered asking Kurama to circulate some chakra heat, but then he heard it—rustling.

Then, the soft creak of floorboards.

A shadow moved.

Then—

“S’ke?!” he yelped as Sasuke crawled into his futon like a silent, determined feline.

She lifted his blanket without a word and slipped under, her cold feet brushing against his shins, making him jolt.

“W-what are you doing?!”

“Shut up,” Sasuke muttered, already curling into his chest, her icy nose nuzzling his collarbone. “It’s cold.”

Kurama screamed in his head. “RED ALERT! THIS IS NOT A DRILL—!”

“S-sh-sh-shut up!” Naruto hissed both aloud and in his head.

“I didn’t say anything,” Sasuke murmured, clearly on the edge of sleep. “You’re warm.”

“You’re ice,” he complained, though he didn’t push her away.

Sasuke huffed softly and buried her face deeper into his chest. “Next time, install a heater like a normal person.”

“I thought you were a heater.”

“Idiot.”

His arms crept around her waist, instinctual and easy, pulling her close. She fit perfectly there—like she was always meant to be.

Kurama muttered grumpily, “Your dead pervert master would be sobbing tears of pride.”

“Shut up, Kurama.”

But even Naruto smiled in the dark. Her breath slowed, matched his. Their legs tangled. Their worries faded. The cold was no match for them anymore.

And somewhere, in the comfort of tangled limbs and shared warmth, they slept better than they ever had.

—T~T—

Hinata stood quietly on the high balcony of the Hyūga estate, the soft winter wind brushing her dark hair around her shoulders. The sky above was a canvas of fading silver clouds, the moon hanging low and round, its pale light casting ghostly glows on the courtyard below.

She had been thinking of him again—Naruto. How he used to smile at her without realizing what it meant. How his eyes would search for Sasuke when she was standing right there. Maybe… maybe it was finally time to let go.

A quiet sigh left her lips.

“It is unbecoming,” a smooth, unfamiliar voice said behind her, “for such a beautiful face to wear such a sad expression.”

She froze.

Spinning around quickly, her Byakugan nearly activated out of instinct. Standing a few feet away was a man. Tall. Deathly pale. Hair the color of moonlight. And eyes—unnatural neon eyes that shimmered like emeralds lit from within.

Her heart pounded. “W-who are you?” Her voice was sharp, defensive.

“I mean you no harm,” the man said softly, his tone a strange mix of courtesy and cold detachment. “There is no need to be afraid.”

“Who are you?” she repeated, stepping back, palms open slightly in case she needed to defend herself.

“My name,” he said slowly, “is Toneri Ōtsutsuki.”

Her eyes widened.

“Ōtsutsuki?” she whispered, disbelief and recognition mingling in her voice.

“Yes.” He gave a shallow nod. “Descendant of Hamura Ōtsutsuki, brother of Hagoromo, the Sage of Six Paths. My people live on the moon, watching over the legacy of chakra… and over those who carry its burden.”

“The moon?” Hinata blinked. “You're from—what? Why are you here?”

Toneri stepped forward, though still kept a respectful distance. “Because of you, Hinata Hyūga.”

“M-me?” She gripped the edge of the balcony behind her. “What do you want?”

“To marry you,” Toneri said plainly, as if asking for the time of day.

Silence. Cold. Awkward. Unmoving.

“…What?” she whispered, eyes growing wide.

“I have observed you,” he continued calmly, “for some time. Your chakra, your purity of heart. The Hyūga are the last living descendants of Hamura on this planet. And you, as heir to the clan, are most fit to walk beside me. We are kin in spirit and blood.”

Hinata’s mouth opened. Nothing came out.

“You have suffered here. Unseen. Unloved by the one you gave your heart to. You remain in shadow, when you were born to bask in moonlight.”

She shook her head, voice trembling. “You—this is insane. You watched me? You want to marry me because of some legacy I never asked for?”

“It is not madness,” Toneri said, tilting his head slightly, the light of the moon shimmering on his pale skin. “It is destiny. You were born with purpose. The world below doesn’t see it—but I do.”

Hinata took a deep breath. She wasn’t sure what unsettled her more—his calm obsession, or the fact that for a moment… just one moment… it felt like someone truly saw her.

But no. She wasn’t ready. Not like this.

And not for him.

—T~T—

Hinata stared at him, stunned by the stillness in his glowing eyes.

“I’ve always loved Naruto,” she said at last, her voice soft but steady. “So why would I ever marry you?”

Toneri’s expression didn’t change. He looked at her like a sage might regard a stubborn scripture.

“He has rejected you,” he said. “He gave his heart to another. It is time you accepted your reality, Hinata Hyūga. You are no longer a child chasing fantasies. You are the Byakugan Princess.”

“…Byakugan Princess?” she echoed, frowning.

“Yes,” Toneri nodded, stepping forward just enough that his robes whispered against the balcony stone. “You are the heiress of the Hyūga clan, the purest branch of Hamura’s bloodline. You carry the legacy of the Moon. In you lies the clarity, the power, the serenity that my people cherished.”

He gestured toward the sky. “The Ōtsutsuki clan on the Moon was once proud. But greed and ideology tore us apart. Civil war consumed them all. I… am the only one left.”

Hinata’s brows pulled together. “You want to revive your clan… with me.”

“Yes,” he said plainly. “You and I together would rekindle what was lost. Through our union, the legacy of Hamura will be restored.”

She swallowed hard. “Is that all I am to you? A tool for your legacy?”

“No.” Toneri’s voice wavered for the first time. “You are not just a vessel. I have watched your soul shine even in sorrow. You are kind… and strong. I want more than your blood. I want your heart.”

Hinata stepped back slightly. Her fingers gripped the stone rail. “And what then? We live up there? Alone?”

Toneri’s eyes narrowed. “No. Not just live. Rule. The world below has lost its way. The shinobi system created by the Sage of Six Paths has wrought endless war, suffering, imbalance.”

“What…?” she whispered. “You want to destroy the shinobi world?”

“Yes,” he said. “As Hamura’s heir, I will fulfill the Moon’s true will. This cursed world of jutsu and bloodshed… it must end. Only then can peace be born again. True peace. Eternal.”

Hinata shook her head, breath catching in her chest. “That’s… not peace. That’s annihilation.”

“The shinobi world ignored you, hurt you, discarded you,” Toneri said. “Let it burn. Join me. Be my queen. Together, we will create a new age.”

The air stilled.

He stepped closer, one hand outstretched.

“Do you accept?”

Hinata looked at the pale hand. Then at the man who wanted to undo everything she had fought beside Naruto to protect.

Her silence stretched long and heavy in the moonlight.

—T~T—

Sasuke stirred with a soft groan as the winter morning light peeked through the thin paper windows.

Then it hit.

A loud, wet “AAACHOOO!” — straight on her face.

Her eyes snapped open.

“…Naruto,” she said, her voice flat as snow on stone.

Still blinking drowsily, Naruto sniffled and groaned. “Ughh… morning, S’ke…”

She sat up slowly, a heavy drip of something sliding down her cheek. She touched her face and pulled her fingers back, glistening with—

“YOU SNEEZED ON ME!”

Naruto jolted. “Wait—what? Oh crap!”

“Your snot is on my face!” she snapped.

“I didn’t mean to! I was asleep!” he babbled, grabbing the edge of the futon and trying to wipe her face.

“Get that filthy blanket away from me!” Sasuke snarled, and instead, she reached over, grabbed his shirt, and aggressively wiped her face on it.

“Hey! That’s my good ramen shirt!”

She tossed the now-sticky fabric back in his face. “Now it’s your bad ramen shirt.”

Naruto sniffled again and gave a sheepish, stuffy laugh. “Aw, c’mon… it’s not that bad…”

Sasuke didn’t reply. She simply glared, arms crossed, lips twitching between irritation and restrained amusement. He looked like a bedraggled bear cub, snot and all.

“…You’re such an idiot,” she muttered.

“And you’re beautiful,” he said, lying back dramatically.

“Tch.”

Still, despite herself, she lay down beside him again, turning to face him. He wiggled his toes toward hers under the blanket. She tried to ignore him. Failed. Then lightly kicked his shin.

“Ow! What was that for?!”

“You sneezed on my face. You deserve worse.”

He gave a lopsided grin and curled closer. “Hey, technically, it’s your fault too.”

“How?!”

“You were so warm and soft I let my guard down. That’s a war crime.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t move when he put his arm around her.

“You still love me though, right?” he asked with a stupid grin.

“…I’m reconsidering.”

He gave her his best puppy face, exaggerated with fake tears.

She sighed, gave him a light forehead flick, and then tucked her head under his chin. “…Just don’t sneeze again.”

They lay there in their ridiculous tangle until—

DING-DONG

“…Someone’s at the door.”

“No,” Sasuke muttered, eyes closed. “You go.”

“Why me? I got snot trauma too!”

“I’m warm. You’re expendable.”

They groaned in unison, rolled apart, and sat up.

“…Rock, paper, scissors?” Naruto offered.

“Fine,” she said, activating her Sharingan.

“Hey! That’s not fair—!”

“Ready.”

They threw.

Naruto blinked at his rock being casually beaten by her paper and the subtle glint in her eyes.

“…You used Sharingan.”

“Of course I did.”

Grumbling like a kicked dog, Naruto dragged himself out of the room, sniffling and mumbling about traitor wives and karma. He staggered downstairs in his disheveled sleep shirt and opened the door.

“…Yo, what’s so early—”

“It’s an emergency, Naruto!” Kiba barked, panting, hair windswept and eyes wild.

Naruto straightened instantly, instincts flaring. “What? Why didn’t you send an ANBU?!”

Kiba swallowed hard. “It’s… it’s Hinata.”

Naruto froze.

“She’s… gone.”

“…Gone?” his voice dropped. “What do you mean, gone?”

Kiba’s jaw clenched.

“And worse… someone’s stolen Hanabi’s eyes.”

Naruto’s blood ran cold. His heart stuttered once—and then began to thunder. Behind him, upstairs, Sasuke had already sensed something was wrong.

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