The rain had dwindled to a faint drizzle as Souta, Pakura, and Hinata trudged toward the faint glow of a small town nestled against the horizon. The air was heavy with the scent of wet earth and pine, the path underfoot slick but firm enough to keep their pace steady.
Souta led the way, his pack bouncing lightly, his mind racing to keep the fragile truce between the two women behind him.
Pakura's steps were heavy, her exhaustion clear despite her stubborn posture, while Hinata moved with quiet precision, her Byakugan flickering occasionally to scan the shadows.
A few drunks stumbling out of a tavern, the clatter of carts on cobblestones. Souta's eyes landed on a two-story inn at the corner of the main road, its sign swinging in the breeze: He glanced back at Pakura and Hinata, catching their weary nods.
"Looks good," he said, keeping his tone light.
Pakura grunted, brushing damp green-orange hair from her face. "Better have hot water. I'm not sleeping in mud."
Hinata said nothing, but she followed as Souta pushed through the door. A bell jingled overhead, and the lobby smelled of cedar and stale ale. The innkeeper, a wiry man with a patchy beard, looked up from a ledger, eyeing their soaked cloaks and battered gear.
"Room for three," Souta said, leaning on the counter. "One with enough beds. We're not picky."
The man raised an eyebrow, glancing at Pakura and Hinata, who stood a step behind, their expressions unreadable. "Got one left—second floor, three beds. Fifty ryo, plus ten for fresh linens." He slid a key across, his gaze lingering on Hinata's pale eyes before flicking away.
Souta counted out the coins and grabbed the key. "Thanks. Point us to it."
"Up the stairs, last door on the right," the innkeeper said, already back to his ledger. "No fights. Had enough of that last week."
Pakura snorted softly, muttering, "No promises," as they headed for the stairs.
The room was cramped but clean, with three narrow beds lined against one wall, a small table by a shuttered window, and a chipped basin for washing. A single lantern hung from the ceiling, casting a soft amber glow. Souta dropped his pack by the door, rolling his shoulders as the weight of the day settled in. "Home sweet home," he said, turning to the women. "Pick your beds. I'll take whatever's left."
Hinata moved first, setting her pack on the middle bed, her movements deliberate. "This one," she said, her voice quiet but firm, like she was staking a claim. She glanced at Pakura, not hostile but not yielding either.
Pakura raised an eyebrow, limping slightly as she crossed to the bed nearest the window. "Fine. I need air anyway." She sank onto the mattress, wincing as she stretched her legs, her sharp eyes flicking between Souta and Hinata. "So, what's the plan, lover boy? You gonna keep playing referee, or do we sort this out now?"
Souta froze, his hand halfway to untying his cloak. Here it was—the moment he'd been dreading. He took a slow breath, letting the lantern's flicker steady him, and turned to face them both. Pakura lounged back, her smirk teasing but her gaze hard, while Hinata sat upright, her hands folded, watching him with that piercing calm that saw too much.
"Alright," he said, voice steady, leaning against the table to keep his hands from fidgeting. "Let's clear the air." He looked at Pakura first, meeting her eyes. "You—Pakura—you vanished randomly. That note? 'Stay safe, don't follow'? I couldn't just sit there, not when I knew you were in trouble. You're not just some fling—you're you. Fierce, stubborn, and way too good at keeping me on my toes. I came looking because I care—because I'd rather risk my neck than lose you."
Her smile softened, just a fraction, but she didn't interrupt, her fingers tapping lightly on her knee. Souta turned to Hinata. "And you, Hinata—you saved my ass more times than I can count. Poison, fights, me being a dumbass—you didn't have to stick with me, but you did. You're not just a shinobi or a Hyuga—you're the one who kept me going when I thought I'd break. That's not nothing. That's everything."
He straightened, running a hand through his damp hair, his voice dropping lower. "I'm not choosing between you—don't ask me to. You're both here, both real, and I'm not lying when I say I need you both. Maybe that makes me greedy or stupid, but it's the truth. If you want me gone, say it. Otherwise, I'm here—for both of you."
The room went quiet, the only sound the faint creak of the inn settling and the distant murmur of the tavern below. Pakura tilted her head, her smirk returning, softer now. "Smooth talker," she said, her voice low, teasing but warm. "You're lucky I'm too tired to argue. For now, you're still mine—just don't expect me to share nicely." She winked, but there was a flicker of acceptance in her eyes, a willingness to let this ride.
Hinata's lips parted, her hands unclenching in her lap. She studied him a moment longer, then exhaled, her shoulders easing. "You're honest, at least," she said, her tone soft but deliberate. "I don't… own you, Souta. But I won't pretend you don't matter to me. We'll see where this goes." Her eyes flicked to Pakura, not quite friendly but not hostile either.
Souta let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "Good. That's good. No one's killing me tonight, then?"
"Not tonight," Pakura said, stretching with a groan. "Ask me tomorrow."
Hinata's lips twitched, almost a smile. "Don't push it."
They settled in after that, the tension easing like a knot slowly unwinding. Souta washed up at the basin, splashing cold water on his face, while Pakura and Hinata took turns changing behind a folding screen in the corner. Dinner was simple—bread and dried fish from Souta's pack, shared in silence but without the earlier edge. By the time the lantern dimmed, exhaustion pulled at them all.
Souta took the bed by the door, kicking off his boots and stretching out with a sigh. The mattress was thin, but it beat the ground. He closed his eyes, ready to crash—until a warm weight settled against his side.
Pakura, her hair still damp, had slid onto his bed, curling against him without a word. Her arm draped across his chest, her breath soft against his neck, and he felt her relax.
"Pakura—" he started, voice low, but she shushed him, her fingers tightening briefly on his shirt.
"Shut up," she murmured, already half-asleep. "Missed this. Don't ruin it."
He chuckled softly, letting his hand rest on her back. Then the mattress dipped again, and his eyes snapped open. Hinata stood beside the bed, her silhouette faint in the dark. Without a word, she climbed in on his other side. She pressed against him, her head settling on his shoulder, her arm mirroring Pakura's across his chest.
"Hinata?" he whispered, heart pounding, caught between disbelief and something warmer.
"Don't say anything," she mumbled, her voice barely audible, a faint flush in her tone. "Just… let me."
Souta lay there, pinned between them, Pakura on one side, Hinata on the other. Their breaths synced, slow and even, and he stared at the ceiling.
"Night," he whispered, more to himself than them, and closed his eyes, letting sleep take him.