Stand By Me

Early morning light stretched over the concrete, and the neighborhood was yawning awake. The wind carried a gentle chill—but Hinata kept moving.

She went fast. Laser focused.

Every jab she threw snapped clean. Each pivot was sharp. Her strikes rolled flawlessly into the next—hooks, knees, slips, resets.

It was day four of her routine.

Her pace gradually slowed to a full stop. She picked up her water bottle and downed it with quick gulps, then poured the rest over her face.

Hinata looked at her stopwatch with a deep exhale.

Fifty-eight minutes.

With a subtle sigh, she stretched her arms and rolled her shoulders, moving towards the door leading downstairs.

Meanwhile, the apartment smelled like the usual morning feast.

Crow shuffled between a pan with an omelet, the rice cooker, and a small pot of brewed coffee, shirt wrinkled and man-bun lopsided.

Hinata walked in slowly, tossed her towel onto a chair, and went straight to the kitchen.

“Good morning! What, only an hour today?” Crow greeted her.

“Still longer than your housework stamina.” Hinata hit back.

“Ugh, so mean,” he clutched his chest in exaggerated pain. He turned toward her slightly. “Would you like some—”

Hinata stood by the kitchen door, her shirt lifted halfway up her torso. She was drenched, and the fabric clung to her well-toned figure in the most flattering way possible.

Crow saw her abs and froze.

She squinted at him.

“What?”

He gulped, then looked away. “Uh… Your ponytail.”

Hinata’s eyes widened. Yes, that was the first time he saw her wear that. She unknowingly touched her hair, cheeks flushed pink.

“Tch. What a creep,” she blurted, walking off in a huff.

Crow’s eyes followed her, confused.

— • —

They shared the meal in near silence.

Hinata sat across from him, fork in hand, moving through her plate methodically.

Crow glanced at her between bites.

Then—

“Rusty,” she said with a hint of frustration. “I feel that. And I’ve gotten slower.”

Crow paused, setting his fork down gently.

“You’ve been training every morning,” he said. “An hour straight. You’re doing more than fine. Even now, you’d still fold me like a lawn chair if I tried to do anything.”

Hinata didn’t respond. Her thoughts were too loud to let his words sink in.

Lambert.

The alley. The blood.

The mercenaries closing in.

Crow breaking through the fire.

After all the time that passed, the images still lingered in her head. She shook it off.

Crow sensed the shift in her shoulders.

“…Anything I can do?” he asked, softer this time.

She didn’t look up.

“…Hold pads for me.”

Crow stopped mid-chew, mouth half-open.

Slowly, he rose from the table and strode to the shoe rack, grabbed two old indoor slippers, and slipped them onto his hands, smacking them together.

Now hunched slightly, eyes sharp with a newfound purpose. His voice dropped an octave as he returned to the table, wrinkling his face into an old man he saw in a sports anime.

“Let’s go, kid! Show me what you got!”

Hinata, still chewing, blinked once. “…Right now?”

But Crow has completely stepped into his delusion.

“Show me SPEED, show me POWER! The world stage only belongs to MONSTERS, not the weak! NOW’S THE TIME, TAKE THE TITLE... KANNO HINA—”

BAM!

The jab was clean. The mock pad smacked against the wall with a meaty thud, chipping the concrete.

Crow stared at the dent, then at his hand.

“…It can’t be… This power…”

Hinata sipped on her coffee.

“Real pads. Or your face is next.”

Crow meekly returned to his seat, a slipper still dangling from his wrist.

“Yes, madam.”

— • —

“C’mon, self. Just say it,” Crow muttered under his breath. “No big deal, isn’t it?”

He paced back and forth by the door, one hand gripping his bike keys, the other rubbing his chin.

From the kitchen, dishes clattered gently as they slid into the plate rack. Hinata remained at the sink, wiping every spot dry.

Then, like ripping off a mental bandage, he forced himself into the kitchen.

“We’re going to buy training pads. You wanna come?”

It felt like he shattered glass. Subtle, yet loud. Hinata gripped the towel, her eyebrows raised as she considered his proposal.

He did this sometimes—these weird moments where he acted like they did things together. That they had to.

She tilted her head slightly, pausing in thought.

Crow’s brain short-circuited.

“I mean—I know you were looking for that… heir person or whoever,” he rushed out, fumbling the words like they were hot coals. “But I’m sure you can do that later, right? For now, just gear. For training. You can say no.”

Hinata exhaled. She walked past him without looking, draping the towel over his face.

“Cool your ass down, you’re redder than a bell pepper.” She grabbed her hoodie and cap on the way to the door.

He smirked. Then let out the quietest, dorkiest exhale of victory.

— • —

The mall greeted them with bursts of color and ambient noise. The space was alive with laughter, footsteps, and music leaking from store speakers.

Crow walked with casual ease—hands in his pockets, eyes drifting between different storefronts.

Hinata followed a few steps behind.

She was somewhere between tense and loose. Her eyes scanned the crowd. Her steps were almost quiet. Every movement was silent. Every sense locked on.

The last time she walked in public, it ended in blood and fire.

“Keep the guard up,” her instincts warned. “Watch for exits. Trust no one.”

But Crow looked relaxed, like danger was the last thing on his mind.

So, she watched him instead. And slowly, without realizing it, her nerves eased.

Mid-stride, he glanced over his shoulder. Without missing a step, he slowed his pace until they walked side by side.

She blinked at him.

He lowered his head, his lips inches away from her ear.

“I’m here,” he whispered.

She felt his breath brush against her, warmth rising to her cheeks.

“I… I know. Do that again and I’ll deck you.”

“Noted,” he murmured with a smirk.

She punched his arm. Lightly.

She didn't know when she'd gotten the guts to reach for someone like this.

It was stupid. Soft. Dangerous.

But for now, she let it happen.