/ᐠᵕ̩̩̥ ‸ᵕ̩̩̥ ᐟ\ﾉ

Though he managed to take pictures and enjoyed the view, he wasted his time when he returned that Monday, the day of the qualifying exhibition for aspiring new members, without a solid theme still. Adding to this stress was seeing Hinata Hyuuga’s name on the list of participants who made submissions. Had he not taken a week off, he could’ve rectified this mistake with the recruitment committee early on, not during the exhibition proper when he strode at noon where it could be unseemly.

“Are you sure you checked all of these names?” said Sasuke, his tone dripping with accusation. Already, he could feel stiffness returning to his muscles, the pressure steadily increasing at his nape. 

Tenten tilted her head curiously, taken aback. “What do you mean? We’ve checked everything twice. All these names have their entries inside with designated bead urns all accounted for.” There had been a case of hacking during online voting in the past, so the recruitment committee took to devising creative means year after year.

“Isn’t there a master file that shows the exhibit numbers with the names? Show it to me,” he demanded, his nostrils flaring as he kept his anger simmering at a level. If he were to ask directly which one is Hinata Hyuuga’s, he would seem more suspicious. All entries were identifiable only by their assigned number.

Tenten hesitated for a moment, her brows furrowing slightly at the unusual request. “I’m sorry, Sasuke, but that file is strictly confidential. Only I, as committee club head, have access to it.”

Sasuke raised a brow. “I’m the president…” He let the sound of the title hang in the air and when this didn’t seem to convince Tenten, he added: “Read the club rule book. There are exceptions given to the club president.”

“But that’s how I’ve been instructed by the upperclassmen before I assumed office. Only I can know the master list–”

“I do things differently,” he replied. “It’s crucial that I understand the quality of this year’s candidates. Besides, I’m not going to vote.”

“You can, though.” Tenten remained skeptical and avoided his eyes, much to Sasuke’s irritation.

He let out a frustrated sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. He ought not to make a scene, not in the open where teachers and other students could be out and about. Reminded of this, Sasuke regained his calm. 

“I’m not interested in who makes it,” he assured her, “I’m only interested in what they can do and how they think. Now, show me!” He held out his hand impatiently.

Tenten looked up, a hint of concern crossing her features. “Fine,” she replied cautiously, unlocking her tablet and handing it to Sasuke. “But please understand, the file contains sensitive information.”

Satisfied that he got what he wanted, he sent Tenten and the others to take a break. As he scrolled through the master file, he realized why Tenten was so protective of it. The document contained sensitive details like family background, home addresses, and contact information. And, truly, it hadn’t been an error on the recruitment committee's part— Hinata Hyuuga unabashedly made a submission, despite all that he said.

Exhibit #67: Hinata Hyuuga 

Father’s Name: Restricted Data

Mother’s Maiden Name: Restricted Data

Home Address: Restricted Data

Past her other personal information, equipment used, and post-processing details was the brief description of her entry:

Mourning doves are everywhere, so commonplace that they fade into the background. Does it make them unworthy subjects? Who truly notices them?

All Sasuke needed to remember was the number sixty-seven. He could easily make up a reason to disqualify her, but his curiosity got the better of him. Who is she really? Why is her family information classified? What made her different from the others? Maybe her photo would give him some clues into her psyche.

He slipped into the exhibition hall, his ears straining for any hint of approaching footsteps, and moved in with deliberate care, avoiding any noise that might draw attention. To his surprise, he found Neji Hyuuga standing by entry number sixty-seven, his hand deep into an unlocked bead urn which would then be weighed at the end of the day to determine which top fifty new members got the most votes via porcelain beads. 

How he got the key, Sasuke could only guess. Such a lowly crime that Neji Hyuuga is forced to commit. 

Whatever his reasons were for pocketing in some beads for Hinata Hyuuga’s urn to lose some weight, Sasuke carefully took another turn and pretended the second time that he had just arrived.

“Neji, what brings you here?” 

Sasuke adjusted his manner to be more casual, easier to play untarnished by the curse of knowledge of Neji’s crime. He couldn’t help chance a glance at exhibit number sixty-seven, of mourning doves bathing in a puddle on the side of the road, their wings as though ballerina arms outstretched, their faces of satisfied bliss while cast on the reflection of the murky water were the faces of preoccupied pedestrian impatient to get to their destination. 

Neji paused at the sight of Sasuke and smirked in that regal, smart-alecky way of his. “If I didn’t know you any better…” His smile then slipped into a pensive frown. “There’s no shame in doing what’s best for the club. Better believe me when I say this one getting the most votes is bad news.” 

Sasuke perused Hinata Hyuuga’s photo some more. “The most votes you say? Surely none in this row.” He then looked at Neji and half-smiled, assuring a mentor and friend that he’ll keep silent about it regardless of the underlying reasons.

Neji smiled back in mutual understanding. “Let’s go out to dinner sometime. After my exams.”

“I’d be delighted,” replied Sasuke. “But… would you mind if I ask why?” 

Neji went around the other entries to drop some voting beads on the ones he deemed somewhat palatable. “It’s best to avoid some people, Sasuke,” said Neji. “They might look normal… speak normal for the most part. But somewhere along bits and pieces here and there, you’ll realize it’s better not to get entangled with such certain people even if they’re family–maybe especially if they’re family. You’d be more careful not to be associated with such kinds of people.”

To become a bonafide member of Sairiumu's prestigious photography club, candidates must rank in the top fifty of the qualifying exhibition. The previous year, it had been to a jury of select faculty on the theme of 'Divinity'; naturally, Sasuke achieved top scores. This year, the club decided on an open anonymous exhibition subject to the votation of the student body. As for the theme, Sasuke couldn’t care less. He wasn’t paying attention to the meeting when it happened—whatever the recruitment committee head suggested, whatever the others voted for, he okayed it and presented it to the potential recruits during the orientation.

Not that he was agreeable.

Far from it.

Everyone in the studio who had suffered Sasuke’s relentless scrutiny knew better than to cross him. His temper is not for the weak of heart. Any aspiring hobbyist photographer who looked up to him because of the tender sensibilities that his works portrayed in famous photography magazines risked bruising their illusions of him. But already, freshmen none the wiser who signed up for the club flocked around him asking for autographs and pictures.

Sasuke indulged them; nothing too untamed that it should bother him so much. He loved good-humored attention in heaps, but not the extreme kind. 

Amid all the fawning clamor, he caught a whiff of that blueberry scent, and that was enough to make him guarded, his accommodating smile vanishing from his face.

“Senpai? If you don’t mind one more pic…” requested one of the freshmen when he made an about-face. 

He didn't find her there. She hadn’t bothered him in class or followed him and Sakura home since the subway train incident. That had also been the last time he’d been wary of her. She had stayed out of his periphery and it assured him that she was practically harmless at that point. During the orientation, he had also been too preoccupied to notice if she attended.

“Sorry. Some other time,” said Sasuke. “We need to make preparations and you could really use the time to think about your entries.”

Disappointed, the freshmen hesitated to press him further seeing how his mood took a 180-degree turn.

As the crowd dissipated and the auditorium was emptied leaving only Sasuke and his core club members, recruitment committee head Tenten pointed out, “You’ve got a cute, little thing there,” nodding at his chest pocket.

Sasuke scrunched his brows and looked down his nose. He found the small white flower he had been finding everywhere peeking up at him and retrieved it. “I think someone’s playing mind games with me.”

Tenten burst into laughter. “With chamomile?” she asked incredulously. “Looking at it closely, that must be a wild chamomile—a weed!”

Sasuke responded with a disapproving click of his tongue. "It must be a form of harassment," he remarked.

The others, preoccupied with indulging in premium donuts and delicate afternoon tea treats, overheard the exchange and dismissed it as 'almost neurotic' with lighthearted amusement, not taking Sasuke's comment seriously following Tenten—they savored the instant as much as they did their luxurious delicacies; it was such a rare opportunity, a happenstance that boosted budding protestations to surface.

But Morio, his classmate and club vice president, said:

“So you think Hinata Hyuuga’s harassing you?” 

At the mention of her name, Sasuke's jaws clenched, perturbed by a flood of feelings he couldn't comprehend: angry, that he thought his concerns about Hinata had been done away with; disturbed, by the possibility of the little show he and Sakura put on the other day not being enough to dissuade further attempts from her.

Their laughter ceased; their tea suddenly lukewarm; the scones turning bland due to the nervousness that the palpable tension in the air around Sasuke could so easily induce upon them.

"How so?" Sasuke cautiously asked. How did Morio come up with the notion? He never told anyone. Apart from him, only Sakura knew.

“Gotta hand it to you—she is weird,” added Morio who kept his calm. “Thought you had a flirtatious affair going on when I saw her slip it in…”–he took a sip from a Ginori, amusement dancing in his eyes–“Thought I had witnessed you cheating on your girl.” 

There, Sasuke determined he had enough. Bogged down by the thought of the paranoia she caused him since meeting her for the first time at Hashirama’s bridge in the rain, of the sleepless nights thinking about her and what she said, of the confusion about whether any of it had anything to do with him at all— because she made it seem like he did when really, he doesn't—he quickly excused himself from the rest and exited the auditorium.

While crossing the central courtyard to reach Cluster B where his classroom was, he stumbled upon Hinata by the central fountain. Heart caught in his throat, Sasuke discovered that words had deserted him.

What was he trying to say? How is he the worst at confrontations having nothing to do with photography?

The fountain's gentle rhythm mirrored the turbulent emotions coursing through him, mingling with the rustling leaves from the bower of Linden trees lining the adjacent paths.

There was an unspoken intensity trammeling as it coursed the air when their eyes met. Hinata stood there, her expression a portrait of shock as if she were a cat caught mid-theft, frozen and wide-eyed, as during that time at Hashirama’s bridge, holding her breath, faintly searching for recognition in his eyes, where there stood none.

For a heartbeat, the world seemed to fall away, leaving just the two of them in silent, differing agonies.

Maybe it served his peace of mind best to ask what she meant by her words then. On the other hand, Sasuke feared she'd take it as tacit permission to do whatever she so desired; whatever that is, he could only conjure to mind the worst things from experience. He doesn’t know her, she doesn’t know him. And if she ever does know about him through magazines or the internet, he won’t indulge whoever fan with any of their delusions in parasocial relationships.

Finally gaining chutzpah, Sasuke held out the flower clenched in his right, and with a pang of cruel satisfaction when he saw expectation gripped Hinata's face, threw it on the fountain where it floated momentarily before being carried away, shaking against the ripples.

Hinata gasped. Her eyes widened further, lips trembling as she bit back words that seemed desperate to escape.

“So it is you,” Sasuke confirmed. “Stop while I’m still asking nicely.”

“But–” she began, her voice barely a whisper.

“Don’t follow me around," Sasuke interrupted, his tone harsher than he intended. "My girlfriend doesn’t appreciate it, and neither do I. Stop before the worst things happen to you.”

It wouldn’t be his worst sin; being cruel to her like this is also kindness on his part. Sasuke appeased his raging conscience with that thought. "And if you're looking for someone... You’re sorely mistaken. That person is not me."

Photography was a hobby his father dabbled with from time to time. For Sasuke, it was his only solace: capturing scenes in the world that offered respite from the bulk that only confused and constantly imposed on him with its shallowness.

The worst of what he had to endure eventually stopped when his parents transferred him to Sairiumu in the last year of middle school because of the higher standards of living that their family business afforded them from contracts dealt with Haruno Group. Still, he wasn't completely free from unwanted attention when he entered Sairiumu. 

So, it came as a rescue when Sakura Haruno of the Kyudo Club confessed to him the spring break before they turned high schoolers. Not only did she keep unwanted attention away, but something about Sakura made her irresistible. How she wielded a bow and arrow–the daughter of her brother's boss–would send a tingling, uneasy sensation in his chest. He loved the danger she posed to his mortality. He fantasized about getting hit by one of her arrows in the middle of the day at the Archery Club's dojo, while he watched on the sidelines with his eye in the viewfinder of the Leica R9 mounted with a DMR that the photography club owned, and it always felt too real. The fear was raw, bordering on arousal, and he couldn't get her out of his mind. There was no other way to explain what he felt: it was a fierce sort of attraction.

Lately, more often than not, that attraction bobs unsteadily, like how a bowstring that once so tightly wound, taut and firm with tension, slowly loosens its grip due to sources unfounded: could be the humidity in the air that causes ennui; it could also be the lack of genuine concern that Sasuke found himself reciprocated with.

They stopped for ice lollies on the way home and while on the apartment lift, Sakura stared long and hard at him.

"What is it?" he asked. He hated it when she kept him guessing what he'd done wrong. Already, he was scanning through his mind everything they'd done together throughout the day, the things he’d said and how he spoke to her. “If it’s about the picture: it wasn’t ugly. How could it be? You’ll see it uploaded later. Composition needs adjusting. There were distracting things in the background.”

Sakura took another bit off her green ice lollies. "You were being followed, that's what.” 

His heart skipped a beat. He was never used to telling anyone about his stalker problems. Only Sakura bothered enough to care–but he wouldn’t exactly use the word care.

“Was it so hard to tell me? All the way to the train! The cow was standing right behind you, did you see?" 

Sakura still spoke calmly, but if the edge to her tone was any indication, she wouldn’t let this easily die out. 

"Had she followed us out I would've peeled off her face then and there.” She threw the rest of her lolly on the floor. "She was wearing our uniform, was she not? You got her pale face in that pic. I'll have someone look her up." 

The elevator doors opened and as Sakura strode out, there was a vicious glint in her eyes.

"Wait." Sasuke hurried after her. "I know her. She's the new transfer student in my class."

Sakura slowly turned. "Oh. Is that so? Interesting." Her eyes were wide and devoid of emotion. "You and that girl got something going on?"

"No–"

"Is that why she's trying to tell me by creeping in my pic and coming up to you like that?!"

"Just listen! Every single time"–Sasuke groaned–"I just know because she's in my class, that's all. She must've been trying to explore places and saw us!"

"Okay." Sakura shrugged, flipping her hair. "It only sounded like you were backing up for her, whatever–"

"I'm not!" Sasuke interrupted.

"Don't get too worked up," dismissed Sakura. "I just don't like people thinking they could fantasize having what's mine."

Anyone who's ever been caught by Sakura stalking him had their companies driven to bankruptcy not long after. It's all too easy for the Haruno Group to change people's lives with a few calls. While that proved effective against his stalker problems, he couldn't help but wonder if someday, it would be his turn, too. 

Because, would anyone abandon something that's theirs on the side of the road? 

She didn’t call for weeks after breaking up with him. He took that as a sign that she didn't want to talk with him anymore. After his installment to the presidency of the photography club, she introduced him to her father and asked permission to live together as if nothing ever happened. However, she had already quit the kyudo club and kyudo altogether and ran for vice president of the student council. Kyudo was something she had devoted herself to since she was a kid. Yet, it was thrown out of her life and forgotten so easily like that. 

The next day, she surprised him by visiting his classroom during lunch break when everyone had already returned and was preparing for when the school alarm would go off. 

He went up to her while she scanned around for a face. "Sakura." 

She wasn't there for him, he could see that much. When she found who she was looking for, she smiled, all too pleased to find that person looking back at her, and whispered sensually in Sasuke's ear:

"Just thought I'd..." 

She wrapped her arms around Sasuke’s neck, stood on her tiptoes, and dove into his mouth for a long, deep kiss.

His classmates teased and hooted. Sasuke preferred intimacy in secret but at that moment had also fully immersed himself in the kiss. He understood it was a performance for Hinata Hyuuga. Whether it aligned with his aesthetics or not, such is lost in the hands of the theatre director. 

When their mouths parted, Sakura gently patted his face. 

"See ya later," she said sweetly.

"What about the car?" Sasuke asked.

"Park it near the station. We'll get it tomorrow."

Sasuke nodded, impressed. "Getting street smart, are we?"

"Of course," Sakura smiled, poking him in the ribs. "Learned from the best."

"But wouldn’t it be smarter to just drive? I have a lot to do. Plus the laundry–" He didn't mention her lack of help around the house, how that meant he had to squeeze in doing house chores for the both of them amid schoolwork and his creative projects.

"Oh!" Sakura smacked her glossed lips. "Make me one of those omelet rice you made last Sunday!"

"Were you listening?" Sasuke could only sigh and protested no further.

While they waited for the train at the subway station, Sasuke passed the time by observing the other commuters, the play of light and shadow across faces, making diagnoses which club camera he'd use, which lens, and the camera settings. Then a figure briefly caught his attention—a flash of dark indigo hair that stood apart from the muted tones of the crowd.

Hinata Hyuuga.

How had she managed to track them down here?

No Sairiumu student would normally be found in subways mingling with common people.

How long does she intend to keep stalking him?

He has a girlfriend—shouldn't that deter her enough?

Does she know where they live?

He’s had the worst experience with stalkers that do and his parents didn’t even know. They left messages on his window sill and inside the flower pots on his balcony, and he always felt like he was being watched everywhere.

Suddenly, Sasuke's fight-or-flight response went haywire. His pulse quickened as questions swirled in his mind, his fingers turning cold.

"Take one like this."

Sakura's voice snapped him out of it. She embodied a sultry pose with the subtle tilt of her head towards the direction of the incoming train, her eyes appearing soft and drowsy, her lips not fully closed.

"Or perhaps this?" She adjusted her hair, fingers combing through it to the side.

Sasuke looked around but couldn't see Hinata anymore.

"What's the matter?" asked Sakura.

"Nothing."

"You looked spooked."

Sasuke shrugged. "No way."

"Well, if it's nothing, don't miss this chance. Who knows when I'll be in the mood to come down here again? Come on, take a photo." She motioned towards herself.

Sasuke pulled out his phone, adjusting for the best lighting and how shadows fell across Sakura's face as he framed the shot. While he scanned over the details in the background, she hadn’t been noticeable, blending into the bustling crowd waiting on the platform. Only when he zoomed in did he spot Hinata, partially obscured behind Sakura, her presence almost ghostly against the backdrop of the arriving subway train.

More people rushed onto the platform as the rails clattered against the weight of the incoming train. 

Sakura grabbed his phone. 

“Wait–!”

"Not bad. Needs a little editing." Sakura made a face. "Post this on your Dinsta."

"No," Sasuke answered abruptly, regretting it immediately.

"Are you saying it's ugly?" Sakura asked, irritated.

“We need to go."

He grabbed her wrist as they joined into the sweep of the crowd boarding the train. 

The doors shut, the cubicle crammed on every side. Sakura's bright, electrifying peach perfume mixed in with the various other human odors assaulted his nostrils.

"Isn't this romantic?" Sakura giggled, her body fully pressed into him.

"Too hot and too crammed is romantic now?" Sasuke smirked.

The train suddenly jerked, causing Sasuke to step back and unintentionally bump into someone behind him. When he glanced over his shoulder to apologize, he froze–it was Hinata Hyuuga. The indigo dome of her hair brushed against his scapula, faintly emanating an unexpected blueberry scent.

So that's what she smelled like... Tenderly sweet—fruity, with a hint of tartness that lulls one into lowering defenses—clean and crisp, like the freshness of morning dew on flowers when he'd camp out for landscape photos in the prairies of Mist region. The blend of natural sweetness and subtle floral notes was almost comforting in its familiarity, and he felt an immediate easing of the tension in his nerves.

It’s a well-known fact that scent influences animal perception and behavior, and Sasuke couldn’t help but think: what a sly, underhanded girl.

Did she deliberately choose this scent to disarm him?

Was it her strategy to make him perceive her as kind and harmless, despite her stalking?

He almost wanted to laugh.

He'd hate to break it to her, but such tactics wouldn't work on him. 

After all, were it not for Neji, he wouldn’t easily be club president. To sum it up in a phrase, Sairiumu Academy is a dog-eat-dog world. A capitalist's dream-come-true to pool the next generation of wealth, forge quality networks, and keep the hierarchical levels established. Leadership roles especially in its clubs always held substantial stakes: prestige, discretionary authority, access to funds valued at millions of ryo, and popularity. So when spring came, and the senior upperclassman would enter university the year after, no one expected Neji Hyuuga, former president of the Photography Club, to instate Sasuke Uchiha as his replacement.

Though Sasuke's works have been featured in various magazines and he had won multiple awards since childhood, he was no major company's son. His elder brother works as the right hand to the CEO of the Haruno Group, but that was about as economically significant as their family was going to get. A fair share of their family business depends on serving as one of Haruno Group’s subcontractors. This might be impressive in lower-tier social circles, but it was unremarkable within Sairiumu Academy's ivory halls. However, Sasuke's reputation at school skyrocketed when Neji announced his succession during his Stepping Down Ceremony:

"I have faith in Mr. Uchiha's eye for beauty. It's not far-fetched to say he will become our generation's legendary lens. He doesn't find the light; the light finds him. And it was all nurtured here. I want everyone to be reminded that this club, in its 300-year history, will publish its greatest issue of the Inuwashi under Sasuke Uchiha's capable hands. And that is what I leave you with."

Then he raised his champagne glass. There were oohs and ahhs as though a sweep of magic. Sasuke felt his cheeks burn. But, of course, he had been more than prepared to take on the role. Neji Hyuuga had scouted him to spearhead the club as early as middle school and convinced him of a worthy pursuit that tugged at one's artistic ideals and the boiling of a young man's blood: Neji Hyuuga dreams of global recognition for Sairiumu's Photography Club, one for Hinokuni's history books—the prestigious Kage Jinkoutekina Radiance Capture Merit Prize Competition for Photography, a competition so highly esteemed and sought after by major exclusive schools worldwide. 

In all its long history, Sairiumu had only made it until the finals but never won. Why that is, no one could genuinely point out. Neji is convinced that no one truly cared until he did. He may not have the innate gift that he believed would propel the club to world recognition, but he has found the perfect arsenal in Sasuke. Even Sasuke understood this early on. This was why they were friends.

"Looks good to me,” said Neji. Before Sasuke could reiterate what he had intended to know, he added: “Nobody of note. You either have your hands full or find a few diamonds in the rough here and there to help you with your goal. So choose wisely.”

Sasuke didn’t press the matter any further. 

It didn't escape Sasuke how she stole glances at him. With only the reception table between them, she must've imagined he kept looking at her because he was checking her out. A sense of dread came over him, and he looked away. He had taken on the reception duties and sent the other photography club members on a lunch break. To Hinata Hyuuga, who has an apparent crush on him, it was the perfect opportunity to engage him in small talk and get familiar. But he would not let her have it.

As though held at gunpoint, he glanced to the right and then to the left, checking out the hallway while she continued filling out the form in small, neat handwriting. His heartbeat quickened, each thump echoing in his ears, a drumbeat of unease. At a corner several blocks away, the Japanese classic painting club was bustling and this brought Sasuke a sense of shallow relief. Should anything happen, they could be his neighborly witnesses.

“Orientation on the 7th,” he said, handing her an envelope with pamphlets and orientation details inside. His voice was kept monotonous like the hum of a fan, his face blank and stone cold, though he maintained eye contact because he wasn't one to cower in the face of intimidation.

With a deer caught in headlights impression, Hinata Hyuuga's eyes caught the light in an almost prismatic quality. They were like amethysts, clear with streaks of light jumping through a million tiny mirror surfaces, shooting back at him with the rush of a bullet train. It was uncanny and inhuman, sending jolts along his spine. She made the hairs on his forearms rise in goose flesh.

“O-okay…” she replied. And then not another word.

As she walked away, he noticed a faint scent of rain in the air, a memory of an evening on Hashirama’s bridge flashing briefly in his mind, her crazy eyes wide with recognition as she gripped his sleeve. This was not the first time he’d seen her. Her transfer to Sairiumu and even ending up in the same class as him—they weren't mere coincidences, Sasuke was certain. She had come after him.