on the verge things like truth, things like love

on the verge of things like truth, things like love

"We cannot live in a world that is interpreted for us by others. An interpreted world is not a home. Part of the terror is to take back our own listening. To use our own voice. To see our own light"

- Hildegard Von Bingen

Hinata doesn't remember the last time she'd made this much tea. She wasn't even aware they owned so many leaves, and she was honestly getting tired of making pot after pot. It wasn't as if the guests hadn't offered to help her, or as if they were so comfortable with watching her accommodate them while grieving but that was her exact intention.

She was hoping that with all her perfect hostess-ness that they'd eventually get up and leave with their discomfort. But shinobi were patient and stubborn if anything else, so she figured she shouldn't have been so surprised that she'd already made twelve pots of tea, and that they dutifully finished them all with no complaints. As she sat quietly amongst the crowd of quiet sniffles and whispers, after the thirteenth pot she wondered who'd burst first, their stomachs or her patience.

It's not that she didn't appreciate their being there. She understood they cared for her and had every right to mourn Naruto as well, she just wished it was somewhere where she didn't have to see or talk to them. Naruto was the people person, he'd blend into crowds and their conversations as if he was born there. They'd gravitate to him similarly as well, everywhere he went he seemed to be everyone's true north.

Hinata was meant for, and a lot more comfortable with, hanging in the shadows. There, no one expected much from her other than what she allowed them to see: her timidness, her beauty, her kindness. So this arena where it was deemed necessary she performed extroverted-ness was the worst possible situation for her now that he was gone.

Neji gave her some slight respite. She couldn't comprehend where she'd be if she wasn't sitting beside him. Maybe it was simply the Hyuga traditions getting to her head, and she was conflating his duties as part of the second family as something more, but in the moment she didn't feel like considering the difference. He was there, and he wasn't asking her to speak.

Naruto, this shining beacon of light to them, this story of perseverance and hope, a leader who pulled Konoha out of the darkness. She looked around the crowd of sorrowful faces and feared whatever she had to say about their life together simply wouldn't fit the bill — it certainly didn't fit hers. Whatever she tried to bring forth felt inauthentic and cheap and teetered on dishonesty.

So she stayed quiet, she poured her tea, she offered tissues with a smile to those trying to hide their tears and silently waited for all of them to leave.

Then there was a knock at the door, and she realized that more guests were arriving; she barely contained the groan that escaped her. Thankfully, Neji was the only one who noticed and he managed to stifle a chuckle. As she walked to the door she realized that it was probably Sakura, and she relaxed.

Sakura was pleasant to have around in that she was eerily similar to Naruto. Both their auras seemed to take up the same amount of space in a room; at times it was overwhelming, but she longed for it now. Especially now that Sakura basically single handedly ran the largest hospital in all of the shinobi world, she was considered next for the Hokage position. There were a lot of awkward pressures now raining above her that Hinata could relate to, and in that familiarity she found comfort, but all that shed away when she opened the door to find not only Sakura, but Uchiha Sasuke lingering behind her.

Hinata seemed to be all out of luck nowadays.

~*~

30 minutes earlier, on a winding road towards the Uzumaki home