Chapter Text
Kenji didn’t usually linger.
Years in ANBU taught him that silence was safety, that to stay too long in one place, or beside one person — invited attachment, distraction, risk.
And yet, he lingered.
The Hyūga compound at night was beautiful in its stillness.
Moonlight brushed the roofs in silver, the paper lanterns glowed soft and amber.
From where he stood near the veranda, Lady Hinata’s silhouette was framed against the light —
delicate but steady, like the flame itself.
He’d come to deliver a report.
That was the reason, the excuse. Updated security logs, border surveillance routes. All routine.
But he’d known even before he crossed the courtyard that it wasn’t really the report that had drawn him here.
He knew when he spotted the sight of the younger dark-haired woman.
“Captain Kenji,” she greeted, turning slightly as he approached.
Her voice was quiet, like a whisper of wind through reeds.
“Forgive the hour, Lady Hinata,” he said, bowing.
“I wanted to ensure the new patrol rotations were implemented properly.”
Her lips curved faintly. “You could have sent a messenger.”
He should have.
He knew that.
But instead, he said, “It seemed… important.”
The words hung between them, heavier than they should have been.
She smiled, that same smile that unwillingly and easily disarmed him every time, the one that seemed to belong to another life entirely.
“Thank you, Kenji. You’ve been very kind to us lately.”
Us.
The word struck him deeper than he expected.
It wasn’t formality.
She had meant Hisaki too.
For a moment, his composure wavered.
He thought of the little boy: dark-eyed, bright, quick to laugh despite the shadows of his mother’s name. Of the way he ran toward him in the corridors, how naturally it came to reach out and lift him high, to make him smile again.
That warmth scared him more than any mission ever had.
“I only do what’s expected,” Kenji said finally, his tone even, his posture unflinching. But the words felt thin, false.
Lady Hinata tilted her head. “Expected?”
He met her gaze, and for the first time, couldn’t hold it.
“Yes,” he murmured, eyes dropping.
“But… perhaps I do more than I should.” He said breathlessly as if in wonderment at his admission.
There was no reprimand in her silence, only a gentle stillness, like she was weighing something she’d long suspected but never dared name.
A breeze stirred between them, carrying the faint scent of wisteria. “Kenji,” she said softly, “you’ve done more for us than duty requires. I trust you.”
Trust.
It was a word he’d earned on the battlefield, but never in a home. He bowed slightly, more to hide the tightness in his chest than out of formality.
“Then I will continue to protect you, Lady Hinata. That is my promise.”
When he left her standing by the lanterns, he didn’t see the way her hand lingered in the air, as if reaching for something she wasn’t sure she should touch.
But he felt it.
All the way back to his apartment.
And when he closed his eyes, the image of her standing in the lantern light —
serene, fragile, unguarded —
followed him into sleep like an echo.