Chapter Text
The first time she told her friends she loved the smell of rain, Shino told her it had a name.
"Petrichor," he said.
Hinata smiled at the new piece of knowledge. The name seemed to fit the scent of damp earth, of renewal. She never forgot that little bit of trivia. She remembered it on autumn afternoons, whenever she found the leaves in her small backyard still wet from the rain.
But on spring mornings after a storm, she remembered the day she shared that same fact with the young genin assigned to her newly formed team. The little girl had looked as though she had discovered an entirely new world.
"Petrichor!" she had exclaimed to her sensei. "I never knew smells had names!"
Now those dark eyes haunted the Hyuuga's dreams. Hikari's innocent smile had become ghostly in endless nights, forcing Hinata to rely on tranquilizers just to sleep.
She pushed the distant memories to the back of her mind, along with the desire to stay in bed that morning. Her gaze settled on the coffee slowly dripping into her usual mug. She still remembered the name of the scent, but she had never again found the courage to say the word aloud.
The coffee machine seemed slower than ever as each drop took its time to fall.
"Don't you like rainy days like this? The smell afterward?" a voice behind her asked from a few meters away. "It always reminds me of when I attended the Ninja Academy."
"I don't see what's so great about it. Not when I have to come to work," another woman replied flatly.
With every passing day her office seemed to become a place filled with people who had forgotten how to feel.
And she was just one of them.
Hinata walked back toward her office at the end of the hallway, ignoring the conversation between the two women from another department. She took a sip of her coffee before adding sugar—not that she cared much for sweet flavors. The drink existed only to keep her awake.
Her slow footsteps led her to the cubicle she called an office. A tiny window sat behind her desk, and the cramped space barely fit the drawer-filled table, with even more archive boxes stacked underneath.
She sat down, tore open an individual sugar packet, and poured it into her coffee.
There had been a day when her therapist suggested she bring back small habits she had abandoned after the trauma. It was only a small step, but sweetening her coffee had become part of her treatment.
She stirred the drink with the same little spoon she always used before turning to the aging laptop the department had given her for one purpose alone: digitizing documents.
A lot of documents.
She opened the first file.
An elderly man with the surname Saito. He had lost a leg during a ninja mission and had been advised to retire from active duty, even though he was only a chunin assigned to low-ranking missions.
"Advised."
Hinata took a deep breath as she read the word.
She entered Saito's information into the digital record. She wondered what people like him did after retiring from the ninja life. Had they become merchants? Joined the workforce behind Konoha's technological progress? Or were they working in government offices like this one, tucked away inside tiny cubicles, sipping slightly bitter coffee, existing somewhere between the shinobi world and ordinary life while running from their ghosts?
She pushed the thought away. The next file awaited.
Her days stretched on like that until five in the afternoon.
Now she walked toward the exit, opening her umbrella the moment the first raindrops fell from the sky. Ever since she had begun working in the office, even when it rained without end, she rarely caught the scent of petrichor anymore. Concrete had swallowed the city. There was no earth left for the smell to rise from.
When she entered her apartment, she shut the door and shook the rain from her umbrella.
She would make tea. Eat the meal she had cooked the day before. Take the medication her psychiatrist had prescribed.
That was her cycle. The days of missions, adventures, and training were dead.
The next morning, she was back inside her cubicle. Someone had left another stack of files on her desk.
Hinata opened the second, the third. Then the fourth.
Men and women who had left behind the ninja life, each carrying a past filled with death and trauma.
Digitizing the records would make it easier to keep track of who was still active and who had retired. Life in Konoha was built around its shinobi system, leaving nearly every institution under ninja authority. The daimyo had helped establish a department staffed by civilians and former shinobi to oversee both ninja and civilian archives.
Hinata had belonged to the latter group for nearly three years.
She no longer dared to watch the news, walk near the training grounds, or even look toward the rooftops where shinobi still ran. She had fled every remaining trace of her old life.
Another file. A familiar name.
She typed carefully, filling in each blank in the database.
Every now and then, an email would appear in her inbox. It was always from the department supervisor—an elderly man who had once been a shinobi himself and still clung tightly to that part of his life—inviting everyone or announcing a visit from someone still active in the ninja world.
One email in particular remained vivid in her memory.
The message overflowed with excitement as it announced that none other than the Hokage himself would be visiting the department.
Her hands had trembled as she read the words.
"The great Naruto Uzumaki will personally visit our facilities!"
She locked herself inside her office. Her trembling hands matched the uneven rhythm of her heartbeat. Through the door she could hear cheerful footsteps and lively voices.
He was only a few meters away. On her floor.
What did he look like now?
How long had she spent avoiding even the thought of him, even though his image existed just beyond that door, in a world that no longer belonged to her?
Unable to resist her curiosity, she opened the door just a crack.
Then, as though fate had chosen its cruelest joke, she saw him immediately.
Naruto was smiling. As bright and untainted as ever, still smiling as he spoke. His features had matured. His jawline had grown sharper. His hair was shorter now, though just as unruly as before.
Naruto was still the sun. And like the sun, he did more than give light. He burned. He blinded.
His little habits hadn't changed either. A hand scratching the back of his neck. Eyes always wide, always attentive.
Once, those habits had only added to his innocent charm. Now, with his broader frame and stronger build, they stirred entirely different feelings. His voice had become deeper, richer.
The admiring looks from her female coworkers made it clear she wasn't the only one captivated by that perfect smile and those bright blue eyes. Then she remembered the color of those eyes.
Their gazes met.
Now he was looking directly at her.
To Hinata, time seemed to stop inside the faint smile that still rested on his lips.
The narrow opening in the door revealed only part of her face, and she remained hidden behind several people gathered around him.
She would never know how—or why—those blue eyes had found her.
After only a few seconds, she quietly shut the door and locked it. That day she cried in silence, unable to understand exactly why.
Thankfully, the visit had been brief.
That had happened about two months ago. Ever since then, she had avoided checking her email even more. Or at least pretended to. By the end of every workday, she always opened it anyway, as though she were secretly doing something she wasn't supposed to.
As soon as she finished one file, she reached for another. This one was kept inside a folder of a different color.
Dark gray. Almost black.
The unusual shade caught her attention, but she opened it anyway.
Her heart stopped. That file should never have been there. Hinata only handled documents that had already been finalized—cases that had long since left the review process. Fate had been cruel to her once again.
The paper, the photograph... The description.
Together, they hit her with such force that nausea washed over her, leaving her on the verge of a panic attack.
“Name: Hyuuga Hinata
Rank: Jounin
Status: Early retirement due to trauma sustained during a failed mission.
Confirmed losses: Two. Both minors.
File resubmitted by the Hyuuga Clan.
Awaiting review before being forwarded to the Hokage, who will be responsible for approving or denying permanent suspension of shinobi status.”