No Rest for the Wary

Hinata’s footsteps echoed in the alleys, an endless maze met by labored breaths. Her mental map warped as her eyes darted around for an exit. The walls and the streets seemed to collapse around her into liquid crimson.

Boots stomped from all sides. Deafening. Human forms sprang from every shadowy corner, and they eventually trapped her in a tight space. Her balance faltered as her shoes sank into what felt like blood-red quicksand.

The shadows lunged at her, one after another. Her fists snapped like whips. They dissipated like dust in the wind with every hit. Her muscles remembered the feeling. It was easy, and then it wasn’t.

For every head, two replaced it. A Hydra in the depths of her psyche. Unfortunately, she was no Hercules.

A déjà vu.

Her knuckles started to bleed into a splitting pain. Her shins began to crumble. And doubt slowly seeped into her bones.

The air thickened. She dragged the air in and out of her lungs. Even breathing was painful.

Deep within her, she was waiting for something. A roar. The screech of tires. An extended hand.

She felt a small tap behind her. At first, it was cold. Unnoticeable. Then it burned the breath out of her.

Blood.

She looked over her shoulder. Her eyes widened.

There was a smile. One that looked familiar and not.

She saw this before.

An outline of a man. A relaxed, lazy stance. A hand tucked inside its pocket. A half-smirk like it just cracked a joke.

Her vision spiraled. Darkness crept around the edges. Then her eyelids collapsed as she tumbled face-first into the pool of red.

— • —

Hinata’s eyes snapped open, gasping. Her heart stuttered in her chest. Sweat trickled down her temple.

For a moment, she didn’t know where she was.

The ceiling fan hummed over her. Soft, yellow light peeked behind the window curtains. A thick comforter wrapped around her, messy and bundled up.

And a faint smell of the stir-fried beef still lingered in the air.

Crow.

Her fists clenched the blanket, as if holding on to the small crumb of peace that cradled her.

She sat up, ignoring the tightness in her chest. She moved before this warmth dragged her back to the couch. Before this feeling of safety killed her instincts.

Without wasting a moment, she slipped into her hoodie. Her feet were light, keen on not leaving any sound or trace.

Then a door clicked, its joints creaking discreetly.

Crow shuffled into the living room, still half-dreaming. He rubbed sleep off his eyes with a soft yawn.

And there was Hinata, crouching by the door and lacing up her shoes.

“You’re leaving?” he asked, voice groggy.

She stayed silent.

There was a shift in the air between them. And it stung. He watched her as she tapped her shoes on the floor, unsure if he should say another word.

“I was gonna make coffee.”

Hinata’s eyes flicked to him, looking different from last night. “I have to go.”

Crow’s chest tightened. His lips opened, then closed, an arm stretching out halfway.

“You could stay for a little longer, if you want.”

She zipped her hoodie, slid her hands into her pockets, and turned towards the door.

“Don't worry about anything. I got you covered.”

Something in his voice made her pause. A plea. A pathetic effort to ground her. She clicked her tongue.

“Why are you so desperate to make me stay?” she glared at him with a hint of frustration.

Crow bit his lip, trying to find the right words. He exhaled and looked away, nodding as if finally resting his case.

“It’s just… nice having you around. I mean, dry humor is better than dead air.”

His words gripped her. They were honest, sincere, and lonely. She glanced at him, but not long enough for him to catch.

“Thanks for the dinner. And the couch.”

Crow swallowed his next protest. He would have tried harder had she not looked so determined.

He sighed, went to the TV drawer, and pulled something out.

A cap—faded green, soft with age, stitched with a classic yellow smiley face.

He walked over to Hinata and snugged the crown on her head, tugging it down firmly.

“There,” he said with a pat. “It’s not much. But you’ll need a little shade.”

It’s a little too big. But for some reason, it fit her just right.

Hinata’s jaw tightened. For a moment, right there, she felt the urge to back down. She bit her lip; she had to leash herself.

“Thanks,” she mumbled, lowering her head. Her eyes disappeared beneath the brim—along with everything she didn’t want him to see.

Crow tried to smile. “If you get lost, you can ask the neighborhood for the guy who talks too much.”

Her lips twitched like she wanted to say something, but the words fell back down her throat.

She gave him a slight nod as she stepped out—no coordinates, no plans.

Crow lingered by the door as it clicked shut. He stood there like he had more to say.

A part of him wished the door would open again.

With a long sigh, he went to the fridge, scanning its insides. He scoffed.

“…She left the banana bread,” he muttered. “Unforgivable.”

The apartment settled back into stillness, and Crow wallowed in it.

The silence she left behind wasn’t new. But this time, it was colder, more hollow.