So Near Yet So Far

The late morning sun painted the pavement in gold but offered no warmth.

Hinata stepped out of the ramen shop, bowing to the owner inside with her usual neutral expression.

With a sigh, she slid her tensed hands into her pockets.

Around her, everything buzzed in its usual morning energy.

Then, a bark. Sharp. Urgent. Repeating.

Hinata’s head snapped toward it.

Wedged between a rusted fence and a crumbling wall, three high school boys were hurling rocks at a dog, cornered and snarling with fear. A small girl knelt beside it, arms wrapped around the mutt. Her elbows were scraped raw. Her shirt was dirty. Her body shielding something smaller than herself.

Hinata stopped.

She recognized her. That little thing that bumped into her while chasing bubbles.

Her jaw set. The grind of her teeth was the only sound she made.

Then she moved.

She angled her foot into the lead boy’s knee with surgical precision. He crumpled mid-step. The second lunged at her and missed, stumbling on the concrete. The third caught the message and ran before he got into worse trouble.

The girl looked at her with a faint smile, then fled down the street.

Hinata remained, her breath steady. Her shoulders didn’t rise. Her pulse didn’t race. It hadn’t even been a challenge.

But then—

She felt it. Eyes. All around her.

From across the street. From the bus stop. From open windows and frozen footsteps. Whispering. Watching.

The heat crawled beneath her skin. Not embarrassment. Not guilt. But the recognition that she dreaded: dangerous. Not one of us.

She pulled her cap lower. Her hands curled tighter in her pockets as she turned and walked away.

— • —

The soft click of the door barely rose over the swish of a broom across the wooden floor.

Hinata stepped inside and shut it gently behind her.

From the kitchen—Crow, earbud in, shoulders bobbing faintly to whatever beat lived inside his head.

He looked up and smiled when he saw her.

“Hey! How was the walk?”

Hinata shrugged without lifting her gaze. “So, so.”

“Cool,” he said, turning around to check the fridge. “You hungry?”

“Already ate.”

Another pause. Softer this time.

“Okay.”

The silence that followed wasn’t hostile. But it held weight. Something dense and unspoken. Crow cleared his throat—reached, instinctively, for his lifeline.

“Hey, so. Dylan’s dragging us out tonight. Dinner. Maybe drinks. Yuzu’s in. Melissa too.”

Hinata’s brow twitched. Barely.

Crow grinned. “Wanna come?”

She sank onto the couch edge, elbows on knees, eyes on the floor. It would be nice hanging out with Dylan and Yuzu.

But with Melissa? Not quite sure. Not yet.

“You sure they won’t mind?”

He leaned back against the counter, arms folded with mock authority.

“I don’t think they will.”

A small breath escaped through her nose. Almost a scoff. But it didn’t sting.

“Whatever.”

Crow’s grin widened. She folded, neat as paper.

“Cool. I’ll let them know you’re coming.”

He returned to sweeping, the motion now looser, lighter.

Behind him, Hinata slipped her hand into her pocket. Her fingers brushed the edge of her phone—and the little heart with it.

She didn’t check it. Didn’t smile.

But she didn’t let go.

— • —

Evening stretched over downtown, the sky deepening into indigo as the city blinked into its nightlife. The restobar glowed on the corner—warm, retro, alive with chatter. The scent of fried food, cheap cocktails, and nostalgia hung in the air. Inside, a jukebox hummed out half-forgotten jazz and faded pop tracks.

Crow reached the door first, nudging it open with an elbow. Hinata followed, hands in her pockets, head tilted slightly down—not shrinking, not unsure. Just quietly scanning the surroundings as always.

She stepped in.

Toward the back, Dylan spotted them first. He raised a peace sign with lazy confidence, half a mug in his hand.

Yuzu, always louder, waved both arms like she was guiding a plane. “Hey! Hey!”

Crow laughed. “We came for the free drinks.”

Hinata lingered half a beat behind him before giving a small nod toward the table. Just enough to be seen.

The room was messy in the best way. A warm and open space.

A few minutes later, the door creaked again.

Boots stepped in—black, scuffed. A plaid skirt. Hoodie zipped halfway. Melissa entered like gravity bent for her.

Dylan offered a fist. She bumped it without breaking stride. Yuzu threw an arm around her shoulder in a half-hug; Mel tolerated it with mild grace.

She reached Crow. They tapped knuckles.

Then her gaze shifted to Hinata. She gave her a nod, and Hinata returned it.

No animosity or tension.

Two people who’d already sized each other up—and decided once was enough.

— • —

Steam curled upward from the bubbling hotpot, spiraling in delicate, lazy threads above the table. They sat around it in close, mismatched chairs, the atmosphere alive with easy laughter.

Dylan leaned in, gleefully roasting Yuzu as he jabbed chopsticks toward him. “You broke into a sweat from a pickled jalapeño? It wasn’t even real heat!”

Yuzu clung desperately to her glass of water. “It wasn’t spicy. It was emotional damage!”

Crow snorted, tossing a dumpling across the pot. It landed softly in Yuzu’s bowl with a gentle plop.

Hinata sat between Crow and Mel, relaxed, elbows resting casually on the table. Her eyes drifted slowly between dishes, faces, and the conversation, observing quietly.

Dylan turned her way. “You cool with dumplings?”

Hinata gave a slight nod. “They’re fine.”

Yuzu leaned forward eagerly. “Give her the spicy ones. I’d bet she eats fire for dinner.”

Hinata offered a faint shrug. “Only when I’m bored.”

Laughter rippled through the table—not at her, but gently wrapping around her.

Crow ladled hot broth gently into her bowl, carefully adding tofu and mushrooms. He quietly passed her a tender slice of beef with his chopsticks, and when she coughed lightly from a sip, he slid a glass of water toward her.

He glanced at Hinata as she wove into a casual chat with Dylan and Yuzu, a faint smile painted on his face.

Beside her, Mel ate quietly, picking slowly at her food and occasionally nodding along to the banter. But her gaze shifted steadily, moving thoughtfully between Hinata and Crow—as if processing something privately.

The table vibrated with warmth and comfortable noise, punctuated by clinking dishes and spoons.

Through it all, Hinata listened, not as a distant observer, but as someone carefully mapping the outlines of warmth and belonging in real time.

— • —

The table had mellowed—louder, messier now. The steam had faded, leaving behind the cozy clutter of a lingering night. Bottles glinted under the pendant light—half-empty beers, fizzing sodas, and a bottle of red wine. A bucket of ice sat on the table, quietly sweating.

Dylan was animated, deep into storytelling mode, hands gesturing dramatically. “—so it was raining hard and this cab driver went faster, right? He opened the window by accident, swerved into a huge puddle, and street water splashed straight on my face—”

Yuzu collapsed, laughing into his arm. “I’m dying. Help me.”

Crow leaned in with perfect comedic timing. “I was in the back seat and Dylan looked like a fish, spewing from the mouth.”

The table erupted in laughter.

Even Hinata.

Just a soft, surprised snort—instinctive, almost involuntary. Her hand darted quickly to cover her mouth, catching it too late.

Crow nudged her, a delighted grin spreading across his face.

“Caught you.”

She shot him a sidelong glare—eyes narrowed but lacking any real venom.

“Hmph.”

The conversation continued, gently weaving through laughter as the music, for some reason, became louder. Dylan glanced across, eyes bright with relaxed curiosity.

“You ever played instruments before, Hinata?”

She shook her head coolly, voice smooth and matter-of-fact. “I punch. Not tap.”

Crow, mid-sip, chuckled into his can. “You’d crumple a snare drum like a soda can.”

Yuzu almost choked on a peanut. “And toss a cymbal like the ‘Captain’ in those superhero movies!”

Laughter rose again, warm and genuine. For a heartbeat, Hinata felt herself within the scene, not apart from it.

Meanwhile, Mel slumped further into her chair, elbow propped lazily on the table, cheek resting heavily against her palm. Her other hand dangled at the glass, and her eyeliner smudged.

She mumbled something unintelligible, eyes drifting languidly.

Crow noticed, leaning slightly toward her. “Hey Mel, you good?”

She waved dismissively without lifting her head. “M’fine. M’great. Don’t bother.”

He shook his head fondly. “Alright.”

Hinata watched closely, the earlier ease subtly fading. Her fingers curled tighter around her glass. She leaned back—just enough to widen the space between her and the rest.

Strangely, the warmth she had felt earlier flickered, like a candle pressed too close to an open window—soft, exposed, and one breath away from vanishing.