The sun filtered weakly through the twisted canopy above, painting the ground in fragmented gold. Team 8 had found temporary shelter inside the hollow remains of a fallen tree. Though they had both scrolls—their Heaven and the newly acquired Earth—they weren't moving toward the tower yet.
Shino had suggested caution. "The path to the tower is the most likely place for ambushes now," he had explained the night before. "Strong teams will camp nearby, waiting to eliminate weakened groups with both scrolls. If we rush, we might become targets."
Hinata had agreed. Kiba grumbled, but conceded. Even Akamaru didn't argue.
Now, with another day stretching ahead, they waited.
Michel hovered at the edge of the trees. The forest was restless.
He could feel it in the spiritual threads, the way they wavered and curled like smoke. Something had passed through recently—something that had frayed the natural balance of the place and left lingering echoes.
Orochimaru had been here—and now it was clear, he was no longer in the Forest.
That morning, they trained.
Shino used his insects to map the area, while Kiba practiced low-movement taijutsu strikes with Akamaru. Hinata stood in a shaded glade, staff in hand, eyes closed.
Michel watched as she moved slowly, deliberately.
Then, without warning, her staff flicked out in a series of rapid arcs. She stepped, spun, thrust. The rhythm was familiar. It had been drilled into her by his guidance in the Silver World.
It was clear that she didn't remember the source, but the movements came easier now. More precise. Natural.
Her quarterstaff flowed from defense to offense, each shift seamless.
Kuro barked once in approval.
"Nice moves," Kiba commented, stepping into the clearing. "Where'd you learn that combo twist thing you did yesterday? When you cracked that guy in the gut."
Hinata blinked. "I… don't know. I just… did it."
Kiba frowned. "And what about that other thing? Sometimes it's like you're not even you—like, you blink and you're just… gone."
Hinata looked down at her staff. Her fingers tightened around it.
"It only happens when I really need it, it's not just speed, it's also strength." she said quietly. "And it leaves me really tired after."
Kiba nodded. "Still. It's cool. Just try not to overdo it. We kinda need you."
Michel listened silently. Her awareness of the boost was still subconscious—but growing.
She didn't know him. But she was already becoming who she had trained to be.
<<<< o >>>>
Later that afternoon, the forest grew quiet.
Too quiet.
Birdsong faded. The wind stilled. Kuro froze mid-step.
Michel extended his threads.
Something was near. But it didn't move like a team.
It watched. Waited.
Shino lifted a hand. "Formations. Defensive."
They crouched in the underbrush. Minutes passed.
Then—rustling. Not far. Three shadows slipped between the trees.
Illusions.
Michel spotted the chakra signatures immediately. Illusory clones designed to lure them into a trap.
A snapping wire.
Hinata moved. A substitution. She reappeared next to Shino just as a barrage of kunai rained down on their previous location.
Kiba leapt from cover, striking the nearest attacker—only to hit another clone.
From above, a net fell toward Hinata.
She jumped, twisting midair. Her hand brushed instinctively against her chest, as if feeling for something just beyond her awareness—the place where the silver threads aligned, where power stirred.
'Now' Michel reacted instantly. The boost took hold.
The silver threads flared.
Hinata blurred forward, her speed multiplied in a heartbeat. She slipped past the trap, landed in a roll, and struck the hidden genin with the blunt end of her staff.
One hit. One cry of pain. One down.
She stumbled after the strike, panting.
Michel withdrew the boost.
Shino's insects swarmed a second opponent. Kiba and Akamaru flanked the third, driving them back until they fled.
Minutes later, they regrouped.
Hinata leaned against a tree, face flushed, hands trembling slightly.
"You okay?" Kiba asked.
She nodded. "Just… tired."
Kuro sat beside her protectively.
Shino crouched near the captured attacker, inspecting the seal on his neck.
"Some kind of sealing technique," he murmured, eyes narrowing at the strange, jagged mark. "Unknown fūinjutsu. Definitely not standard for an exam. We'll need to report this."
Michel's gaze narrowed further.
The mark bore traces of Orochimaru's chakra. Twisted. Ancient. Infectious.
He recognized it for what it truly was: a cursed mark. Not just a branding of power—but a corruption. A seed of control.
It was never meant to test potential alone—it was meant to own it.
<<<< o >>>>
That night, Hinata dreamed.
In the Silver World, she trained again. She and Michel moved through a pattern—footwork, strikes, retreat, turn. He corrected her posture, refined her angle of attack.
She was especially happy tonight; her joy was so contagious that Kuro forced us to stop our training more than once because she stole Hinata's quarterstaff and forced us to chase her all over the silver world to get it back.
Once, we retrieved the quarterstaff from Kuro's naughty mouth.
Hinata—dream Hinata—just looked at him, head tilted. And she spoke seriously "I'm feeling it, it's becoming clearer every day... the line between me in the Silver World and the real-world version of myself was blurring. You saw it, right? I felt it... her movements, her instincts, everything was becoming more fluid, more synchronized."
Michel just nodded. "I saw it… and I can admit that I'm excited about the idea… I think you'll surprise more than one person with the skills you've developed here."
"I wish I could see you in the real world… I wish I could remember you… that way you wouldn't be so alone during the day…" Hinata admitted.
Kuro now approaches Michel and asks for a few cuddles with his snout.
Michel pets Kuro while answering his granddaughter. "I also admit that I would be happy if that happened… but you are the priority… later we can think about me. You're no longer a little girl playing shinobi, you're now becoming one… both versions are… it's a dangerous world. I just hope you keep your wonderful heart intact as much as possible."
<<<< o >>>>
She woke up quickly. She felt something sticking to her skin, like the memory of a movement she hadn't yet made.
The forest was still dark. Kuro was growling softly.
Shino whispered, "Someone passed nearby. No footsteps. No chakra trail."
Michel hovered above them. There, in the high branches—A silhouette. Watching.
Michel's awareness focused.
The chakra was carefully masked—smooth, refined, professional. This wasn't just a wandering genin. Whoever it was, they were highly trained… and had no intention of being caught.
He watched as the figure adjusted their glasses with a practiced movement.
Not Orochimaru, Michel thought. But close to him.
Then the figure vanished into the trees, silent as a shadow.
Kabuto Yakushi had seen enough.