Hinata

Hinata

Ringo did not train today—the cooldown for Wind Cutter Technique had long since ended—but he merely stood in the middle of the training ground, facing the woods, waiting—not for cards, but for someone.

The training ground was empty. Earlier than yesterday. The sun had just climbed over the treetops, and the shadows were thirty percent shorter.

What should I say? He did not know. But it could not be, "Have you been watching me?" That would scare her away.

They were not lines he had planned. He thought of them as he waited.

His palms were not sweaty. Strange. He was calmer than when synthesizing. It was not that he was not nervous; the nervousness of waiting for someone was different from the nervousness of gambling on a card. One burned his hands, the other was quiet.

The sand on the training ground was not golden in the morning light, but grayish white. The sun had not heated it yet. Birds chirped in the distance—not one bird, but two, calling and answering each other. He seemed never to have noticed before.

Hinata came from the other side of the woods. Her schoolbag hung from one shoulder.

She had not come specifically to watch him train. This road to school happened to pass by the training ground. No, she had not deliberately taken a detour. She was not sure herself.

When she saw Ringo standing in the middle of the training ground, not training, simply standing there and facing her direction, Hinata stopped walking.

Is he... waiting for me?

It was not a question mark. Her heart had simply skipped half a beat.

She took half a step back. Not because she was afraid, but because she did not know what to say. She had not prepared herself. Three days ago, she had only watched. Yesterday, she had watched from outside the classroom. Today, she was going to be watched.

Ringo did not get up. He did not walk over. He merely raised his head and said, "The view is good here."

He was not saying it to Hinata. He was saying it to the air. But Hinata happened to hear it.

He... is talking to me?

Hinata's hair was dark blue in the morning light. Not black, but blue, deep blue, like the evening sky.

Ringo sat on the ground and looked up at her. From below. Not in reverence; it was simply that he could see her eyes from where he was. Her white pupils looked larger than they did at school.

"What... is your name?"

He knew the answer. He had not forgotten; he was just giving her an opening that would not make her too nervous.

Hinata's voice was lighter than the wind on the training ground.

"Hyuga... Hinata..."

Ringo nodded. "Ringo."

A pause.

Hinata said, "I know."

Two words. Her voice was just a little louder than before.

It was not the sort of "I know" used during roll call. It meant, you're the one who trains here. She did not mention the golden chakra, but she knew.

Her "I know" meant more than just knowing his name.

Ringo did not respond. You know what? He did not ask. Because even he did not know what she wanted to know. It was not aloofness; he simply did not know how to respond.

For the first time, someone was watching him not because he was pitiful, but because they were curious.

As Hinata spoke, her fingers tightened around her schoolbag strap, loosened, then tightened again. She was not nervous. She was counting her breaths.

Ringo noticed that when Hinata spoke, she did not look into his eyes. She looked at his collarbone. It was not rude. Looking into his eyes was too... close.

After saying "I know," her breathing quickened. Not because she was tired, but because she had said it—the things she should have said and the things she should not have said.

"Do you want to train together?"

Hinata's pupils widened. Rather than saying "Mm," she nodded twice.

"Mm."

Ringo went first. Physical enhancement, not Wind Cutter—just the basics. Running, jumping, punching. Not a display, but so she would know that this was simply what he was like.

Hinata followed. Gentle Fist, not against a wooden post, but against the air. Three palms of Eight Trigrams Palm. Not with full strength, but it was her way of showing him what she could do too.

As Hinata performed Gentle Fist, Ringo's system panel flashed.

Hyuga · Special Chakra—Potential Drop

He closed the panel. Not now. Later. Right now, he watched—not cards, but her.

The footprints of two people overlapped on the training ground. They were not training separately. They trained their own ways within the same space, while knowing the other person was there.

The airflow stirred by Hinata's Gentle Fist was unlike her. Her fists were still, but the wind moved.

When she saw Ringo's speed—not earlier, but after his physical enhancement—it was faster than at school. As expected, it was not ordinary training.

Sunset. The sand of the training ground changed from grayish white to gold. Not the gold of cards, but the warm gold of evening.

Hinata packed up her schoolbag. Ringo wiped his sweat with his sleeve. There was not much sweat; what he wiped away was not sweat, but the time they had spent not knowing what to say.

Neither of them summed anything up. It was not that there was no need to; there was simply no need to say it aloud. Tomorrow, they would probably come here again at this time.

It was not an agreement. It was an unspoken understanding.

Children ran past outside the training ground, their laughter trailing behind them. Hinata looked up, but Ringo did not. It was not that he did not care. It was just that this small patch of space was enough for now.

Under the sunset, their shadows stretched longer. Ringo's shadow and Hinata's shadow on the sand were only a little short of touching. Three centimeters. But unlike yesterday, when their shadows had been strangers, today they knew each other.

The three broken wooden posts on the training ground were still there. They were not being repaired. They were a memorial to the first time he had been seen.

Hinata stood at the edge of the training ground and looked back. Her schoolbag strap rested on her shoulder.

"Ringo-kun—"

Ringo stopped and turned around. "Mm?"

"Tomorrow... will you still be here?"

The question was short. But Hinata's fingers tightened around her schoolbag strap. Yes, not "Yeah," but "Yes," because it was not something she said casually.

Ringo looked at her. He did not smile, but his eyes were no longer as focused as they had been during training. They were quiet in a way unlike when he looked at cards.

"Mm. I'm here every day."

It was not a promise. Not that he would necessarily come every day, but he would. Not an oath, but something he would do.

Hinata's "tomorrow" was not "every day." She would start with one day. She did not quite dare to ask for too much. But one day was enough.

The sunset stretched Hinata's shadow to Ringo's feet. It touched him. Not deliberately; the angle of the light was simply right.

Ringo watched her retreating figure. Not because he was watching a person, but because someone would be happy that tomorrow, they could see him at the training ground.

That realization weighed more heavily than his first synthesis.