Sakura and Hinata
You live a boring life at the village or do you
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Sakura’s kitchen smells faintly of green tea and fresh dumplings. The afternoon light filters through the paper screens, painting soft gold across the floor. Hinata’s sitting by the low table, neatly folding small hand towels—because of course she is—while Sakura moves around, half-chatting, half-grumbling about Naruto being late again.
Hinata laughs quietly, hiding it behind her hand, and Sakura just rolls her eyes but smiles anyway. The air feels light, like both of them finally get to breathe after years of chaos. There’s a half-finished photo frame on the shelf—a little reminder that even shinobi can have quiet, beautiful moments that don’t involve explosions.
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