קгєץ 🕷 [ⲛⲁⲅⳙⲏⳕⲛⲁ]

Like A Puppet On A String

Hinata lurched to an abrupt stop, dropping the dirty plate pile to the floor.

They shattered on impact, silencing the low buzz of conversation in the ramen shop.

Every eye swung in their direction.

"Ah, I'm sorry!" Bakuto exclaimed, sliding from his seat and dipping down to the mess.

Hinata followed, finding a shard free spot to kneel as conversation slowly resumed around them.

"Oh no, no, no, it's alright," she assured him as he started collecting cracked plates.

Reaching out, Hinata grabbed the large pieces of jagged ceramic, unfurling her apron to hold them.

"I'm so sorry," he repeated, grabbing two halves of the same bowl.

"Oh no, don't trouble yourself, I have it, don't worry," she tried again.

Teuchi wouldn't be happy with her if she let a customer clean up shattered dishes.

Teuchi wouldn't be happy with the broken dishes either.

Bakuto wasn't deterred.

He grabbed another piece, stacking it in the curved bowl shard.

Reaching out, Hinata placed a gentle hand to his wrist, stilling his flustered movement.

Bakuto turned contrite eyes to hers.

Giving him a reassuring smile, she shook her head, "it's alright, really. It was an accident. I appreciate your help, but please, take a seat, sir. I'll take back what I have and send someone out to sweep up the remaining shards."

His ruddy cheeks bloomed brighter.

He reached for her hand on his wrist, gripping her palm in his sweaty one, startling her.

"Sir?" she questioned, more than a little uncomfortable with the contact.

He looked as though he were going to say something, a strange complexity working behind his eyes.

"I..." his trailed off, lips pressing together before finishing, "I'm um, really sorry, for all of this."

She shook her head, tugging her hand back, "it's okay, accidents happen," then gestured to his chair, saying hospitably, "please, take your seat."

He rubbed at his neck again, then nodded shortly, finally returning to his seat.

Relived, Hinata looked towards the back, hoping to catch the eye of a nearby busboy to help with the cleanup so she could get back to working the floor.

Her gaze snared and held on a familiar figure lounging in a window booth at the far end of her section.

He was here again.

The veteran.

Naruto Uzumaki.

And he was watching them, or rather, Bakuto.

His azure stare was sharp.

Glinting with intensity she could see across the room.

Completely unblinking above the harsh downturn of his lips.

He looked undeniably displeased.

Hinata glanced at the clock, as though the ticking circle could tell her how long he'd been waiting for service.

She stood, ready to hustle his way and at the very least get him started with a menu and drink order before she found someone to sweep up the broken dishes. In the strip of hallway beyond the tattooed blonde's booth, she spotted Kiba-kun with a young busboy holding a basin and carrying a white cloth over his arm. Her friend's mouth was moving as he pointed in her direction, then gave the busboy a encouraging pat on the shoulder.