NaruHina: Postscripts

Five

Hello! Drabble request: Hinata nursing hurt (it could be physical or emotional) Naruto.

"Yeah, they never recovered his body..."

"Oh, god. To die so far away, all alone..."

"I think he just found out a couple of days ago. Poor Naruto..."

Hinata's heart started pounding when she heard people talking about Naruto. Non-shinobi villagers had finally heard the news, which meant it was all over town, then. And Jiraiya's funeral was in a couple of days.

She knew Naruto was in his apartment and she didn't need her byakugan to make sure. Hearing the news of your mentor dying would shock anybody. All the others had stopped by, but he'd ignored everyone and locked himself inside.

It was understandable that he would react that way.

Still, though, Hinata worried for him.

She'd made up excuses to be around his part of town on the off chance that he might step out of his apartment and she'd be able to "accidentally" run into him. But it never happened.

At home, Neji had seen her more flustered than usual and had stopped her with a gentle hand on her shoulder. "He needs a friend, Hinata," was all he said.

It had spurred her enough to act. Coming from Neji, those were heavy words and worth considering. She couldn't hesitate.

Which was why she found herself knocking on his door. When she didn't hear a response, she did it again, but louder this time.

Nothing.

"Naruto, it's me," she said through the door. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

Again, he didn't respond to her, but Hinata knew he was inside.

"I'm just going to leave this here," she said softly. She hoped he could hear the concern in her voice. "Just in case you were hungry."

She left the bag in front of his doorstep, sighed, and turned around, heading for the stairs.

Naruto heard her light footfalls fade and knew that Hinata had already left. When he was sure she was really gone, he opened the door and saw a paper bag sitting in front of his doorstep.

Curious, he picked it up and looked inside. The smell of cinnamon drifted up to him and he realized that he hadn't eaten anything all day.

He picked it up, unwrapped the plastic covering, and bit into the cinnamon bun.

Sweet. Rich. Chewy. Aromatic.

Concentrate on the taste. Don't think about anything else. Just the food.

Naruto slowly chewed, willing himself to find the flavor because he really didn't want to eat, but Hinata was right. He was suddenly hungry.

It was just so hard to find the energy to give a damn.

He ate the cinnamon bun in silence, all alone in front of his apartment.

He looked down at the empty bag in his hand.

Or, he thought it was empty. But there was something else inside.

He drew it out, and a piece of paper fell to the floor.

She'd written him a note:

When my father was young, Jiraiya had gifted him with one of his writing pens. We're giving this to you in case you wanted to have something of his to keep in your memory.

Naruto held the pen up to the light, and the inscription of Jiraiya's name on the side made his eyes sting with tears.

Quickly, he ran down the steps hoping to catch her.

"Hinata!"

She turned around in surprise just as she felt his arms wrap around her.

"Thank you," he murmured. He took a deep breath. "I-I..."

She heard the catch in his voice, the emotions he was trying so hard to control, but she didn't need anything from him. What he needed was solace. And hope.

Hinata hugged him back, squeezed tight to stop him from speaking. "It's okay, Naruto. I understand. You don't have to say anything."

He sighed and nodded into her hair.

She held him, fighting her shyness, the discomfort of trying to bear and ease his pain for him.

Because sometimes, heroes needed a helping hand, too.

They stood on the sidewalk, simply embracing, sharing comfort. Jiraiya's pen was clutched in his hand, Hinata warm and soothing in his arms.

People passed them. But nobody bothered them because they knew who he was and what he'd just lost.