She smiled—small, real—and sat beside him, sipping from her waterskin. "I don't mind. It's… nice, not being alone out here."
He nodded, leaning back. "Yeah. Same."
The river rushed on, and they sat there, side by side, the fight still fresh but the tension easing. Hinata didn't say more, but she didn't need to. Souta got it—she wasn't just a shinobi tagging along. She was in this with him now, cut and all.
...
Souta and Hinata emerged from the woods. Their boots crunched onto a dirt road that snaked toward a small town nestled against the river's curve—a scattering of low buildings, their clay roofs glinting faintly under the last light. Smoke curled from chimneys, and the faint hum of voices drifted on the breeze, mixing with the steady rush of water.
Hinata walked beside him, her pace steady despite the faint limp she'd picked up from their outpost scuffle. The rag around her arm was stained a dull red now, but she hadn't complained once. Her pale eyes scanned the town ahead. Souta caught her glance, the way she tilted her head like she was listening to something he couldn't hear. Tough didn't cover it—she was a damn force, and he was starting to feel like the lucky bastard who'd stumbled into her orbit.
"Looks quiet," he said, breaking the silence, his voice rough from the day's strain. "Think we can crash here without more knife-waving lunatics jumping us?"
She smirked, just a twitch of her lips. "Maybe. No guarantees out here. But we need rest. You look half-dead."
"Flatterer," he shot back, grinning despite the ache in his jaw. "You're not exactly fresh yourself. That cut's still bleeding."
She shrugged, brushing it off. "It's fine. I'll clean it when we stop. Let's find a place first."
The town came into focus as they closed the distance—ramshackle but alive. A few merchants packed up stalls along the main strip, their voices haggling over last-minute trades. A kid darted past, chasing a stray dog, while an old man leaned against a cart, puffing on a pipe. The river ran parallel, its banks lined with rickety docks where boats bobbed, their lanterns swaying like fireflies. Souta sniffed the air—fish, woodsmoke, and something frying. His stomach growled loud enough to earn a raised eyebrow from Hinata.
"Hungry?" she asked, amusement creeping into her tone.
"Starving," he admitted, patting his pack.
They veered toward a squat building near the center—a faded sign swung above the door, "River's Rest Inn," the paint chipped but legible. A lantern flickered beside it, casting a warm glow over the entrance. Souta pushed the door open, a bell jingling overhead, and stepped into a cramped lobby. The air smelled of stale beer and cedar, the walls lined with crooked shelves holding dusty trinkets—old fishing lures, a cracked vase, a faded map pinned up crookedly. A counter stretched across the back, manned by a wiry guy with a scruffy beard and a bored slouch.
"Evening," the receptionist drawled, barely looking up from a ledger he was scribbling in. "You two need a room?"
"Yeah," Souta said, leaning on the counter, fishing coins from his pocket. "Got anything open?"
The guy scratched his beard, flipping a page. "One left. Busy night—traders rolled in earlier. Single room, two beds if you're lucky. Take it or leave it."
Souta glanced at Hinata, who'd stepped up beside him, her pack slung over one shoulder. "One room?" he asked, keeping his tone neutral.
She nodded, unfazed. "It's fine. We just need a place to stop. Doesn't matter."
The receptionist raised an eyebrow, smirking faintly like he'd heard a joke they hadn't told. "Right. Thirty ryo. Upstairs, last door on the right. Bath's down the hall if you don't stink too bad already."
Souta slid the coins over, snagging the key—a dented brass thing that looked older than the building. "Thanks. Any food around here?"
"Kitchen's open 'til midnight," the guy said, jerking a thumb toward a side door. "Fish stew's decent. Don't choke on the bones."
They headed upstairs, the wooden steps groaning underfoot. The hall was narrow, dimly lit by a single lantern, and the last door creaked as Souta unlocked it. The room was small—two narrow beds shoved against opposite walls, a rickety table between them, and a window overlooking the river, its glass smudged but intact. A threadbare rug lay in the center, and a chipped basin sat in the corner with a jug of water. Not luxury, but it beat the dirt.
"Home sweet home," Souta muttered, dropping his pack on the nearest bed. He stretched, wincing as his spine popped.
Hinata set her pack down more carefully, peering out the window. "It'll do," she said, then turned to him.
The room at River's Rest Inn was quiet except for the soft murmur of the river outside and the flicker of the lantern. Souta stretched out on his bed, boots kicked off, grime still clinging to his cloak. Hinata sat cross-legged on her bed, rewrapping the cut on her arm with a new strip of cloth. The old rag, stained red, sat in the basin as a reminder of the chaos they'd barely escaped. She moved like she always did—efficient, calm—but Souta could tell her arm wasn't as fine as she made it seem.
He propped himself up on his elbows, watching her. The silence between them was comfortable, but the weight of the day hung thick. She'd taken down those rogues like it was nothing. Fire-throwing woman and all. His respect for her wasn't just for her fighting skills. It was more.
"So, what's your deal, Hinata?" he asked, his tone casual but sharp. "You could've stayed in Konoha. Right?"
She glanced up, meeting his gaze for a brief second, before continuing to wrap her arm. "It's not just that," she said quietly, tightening the cloth.
Souta leaned forward, sensing more. "Yeah? So what is it, then? Don't tell me it's because I'm too charming to let die out here." He flashed a grin, trying to get her to open up, but his eyes were focused, waiting.
Hinata huffed a soft laugh, shaking her head. "You're ridiculous," she muttered, but there was a hint of a smile there. Her eyes drifted to the window. "It's complicated. I didn't just leave because of tea lessons."