For the first time in what felt like ages, Hinata slept.
A true, unbroken sleep.
No training within the Silver World. No whispers of ancestors or shadows of memory. Just herself, alone, floating in the stillness of dreams.
When she woke, it was to the musty air of Otogakure pressing down on her chest like a memory too old to shake. Kuro stirred beside her, sensing her awakening. With a quiet breath, the great black wolf nudged her hand with her muzzle.
Hinata smiled faintly and ran her fingers behind Kuro's ear.
"It's been a while since we trained... or even just played, hasn't it?"
Kuro's single eye blinked with warm affection.
"I promise... once we leave this place, you'll have all of me again."
She paused, then whispered thoughtfully.
"You know... I've heard some of the stories the samurai tell in the Iron Lands. They remind me of the tales I used to hear in the Hyūga complex..."
Kuro lowered her head slightly—a sign of guilt.
Hinata chuckled softly.
"I know you were curious. And no, I won't betray your secret. You've been kinder to them than I ever was allowed to be among the Hyūga. Just promise me it won't go too far, and all is forgiven."
A silence followed, filled only by the muffled pulse of distant machinery. Her thoughts drifted again.
Orochimaru.
It had been the first time she truly saw what Michel once described as the darkness of his world.
What she found... was worse.
The distortion in Orochimaru's soul wasn't just a curse—it was chosen, layer upon layer. He had reshaped himself into something that could no longer feel regret. What pained her most wasn't just his cruelty... but the souls who had become vessels for his ambition, never knowing what they surrendered.
Perhaps ignorance really is a mercy, she thought.
Then came Sasuke.
"He's not what I expected..."
Kuro huffed, offended, and turned away dramatically.
Hinata laughed under her breath.
"I know, I know. He's... difficult. But our match... it wasn't just a clash. I understand now what my father's samurai meant when they said a swordfight can become a conversation. Through movement, we reached something... I don't know. Mutual understanding."
She stroked Shinsei, still sheathed beside her bed.
"Ever since I learned to fight through the World of Intent, I never imagined I'd find something close to that level of sensing. Now I understand why the Sharingan has its reputation."
Kuro collapsed onto the floor with a groan, placing a paw over her snout in protest.
"Do you think Orochimaru will succeed in what my father asked him to do?"
At the mention of that name, Kuro tensed immediately. Sasuke might be annoying, but Orochimaru was different. Being near him was like being locked in a room with a predator—one that had its eyes on the thing you loved most.
Kuro growled low.
"I feel the same. But... I trust my father wouldn't risk me if he hadn't measured every danger."
A knock echoed from the outer door.
Takama's voice came through calmly.
"Hinata, I heard you talking with Kuro. I hope you rested well... we have a long day ahead."
<<<< o >>>>
Sasuke moved through the damp corridors of Otogakure's inner labs, his thoughts still on the girl from the day before.
She wasn't supposed to matter.
But she did.
She had no chakra augmentation. No bloodline or Jutsu. And yet, she had stood toe to toe with him. With only a sword. With only her senses.
And she was blind.
He arrived to find Kabuto hunched over a microscope, adjusting slides, scribbling notes. The light of bioluminescent tubes bathed the room in eerie green hues.
Kabuto spoke without looking up.
"Ah, Sasuke-kun. What brings you here? Our unusual guests, perhaps?"
Sasuke stepped closer, arms folded.
"I want to know what you know about Hinata."
That made Kabuto pause. He adjusted his glasses, then turned, his voice shifting from casual to coldly amused.
"Ah... information. How nostalgic. Very well. Shall I tell you the tragedy of the Fallen Princess?"
Sasuke didn't reply. He waited.
Kabuto sighed, almost theatrically.
"She was born to the main branch of the Hyūga clan. Sickly from birth. Her survival was seen as a miracle, but no one knew what afflicted her. A year later, her mother died giving birth to another daughter."
He stepped away from the microscope.
"She survived a kidnapping attempt by Kumo, during which Neji's father sacrificed himself to protect her father. That act cursed her with guilt."
"As she grew, she showed no signs of talent. She awakened her chakra late in the academy—an embarrassment to her clan. Her younger sister was already proficient with chakra and the Byakugan by age four."
Sasuke frowned.
"And the seal?"
Kabuto nodded.
"Indeed. Her father had her marked with the Caged Bird Seal. She was discarded, deemed unworthy. That seal... a cruel device, sold as protection, used to enslave."
Sasuke muttered, disgusted.
"A mark of slavery dressed as tradition."
"Exactly," Kabuto said, with a glint in his eye. "She lost her place, her name. She joined Team 8 under Kurenai Yuhi. On a mission return, she crossed paths with Takama Gin, a dying samurai. She saved him. And something between them... changed both of their fates."
"During the Chūnin Exams, she showed unexpected strength. You would know—you were there. But when she tried to activate her Byakugan for the first time... the seal reacted. Her chakra system was nearly destroyed. Her future as a shinobi, erased."
Sasuke remained still.
"Takama adopted her. She left the Hyūga name. Now she is Hinata Gin. And she's here because her new father offered Orochimaru something he could not refuse... in exchange for a chance to restore what was taken from her."
Kabuto returned to his work.
"Her chakra. Her legacy. Her future is more than a relic."
Sasuke left in silence. But in his mind, her image lingered.
A girl discarded. A warrior reborn. And a clan said to see everything...
...that had been too blind to see her at all.
<<<< o >>>>
The stone walls of Otogakure felt too alive. They pulsed faintly, as if echoing the breath of something ancient and buried beneath the rock.
Hinata Gin sat upright on the cold consultation slab, her hands folded in her lap. Her blind eyes remained closed, but her other senses painted the room in stark detail: the drip of liquid, the shuffle of sandals, the subtle pressure of chakra patterns in the walls. Kuro lay near the door—tense, silent, protective.
The scent of herbs and something acrid—snake musk—permeated the air. Hinata inhaled it without flinching. She waited.
Orochimaru is late. On purpose, no doubt.
Takama stood beside his daughter, impassive and still like a mountain. Beneath his facade, a storm seemed to be moving, waiting for the moment to pounce. A feeling of protection radiated from him, ready to hold up the sky itself if necessary. Yet there he was, still and waiting.
The door opened soundlessly.
She did not move.
She felt it before she heard his voice—the pressure shift, the soul distorted beyond comprehension. Michel had warned her of this kind of darkness. But words had failed to prepare her.
"Your posture has improved," Orochimaru said, his tone smooth as oil. "And your presence... It has different weight. Fascinating."
"I didn't come for compliments," Hinata replied quietly.
A dry chuckle.
"Of course not."
She heard his robes sweep as he circled her, the room thick with his curiosity.
"I've reviewed Kabuto's analysis. And after seeing you myself... I can confirm your chakra system is catastrophically altered. The cursed seal didn't just suppress your flow—it rewrote it. Cauterized nodes, shattered junctions. Frankly, it's a miracle you're alive."
"And your solution?"
"There are two paths." He stopped behind her. "One involves a long-term study under my supervision. I would attempt to dissect and undo the seal's workings—painstaking, delicate work. The other... is faster. A ritual transference. Not human to human—that's far too unstable."
She felt it beneath her feet—a faint tremor.
"Serpents," he said softly. "They're ideal chakra carriers. Flexible, precise, and already acclimated to my chakra signature. I've bred a strain capable of secreting chakra-infused enzymes. With them, we might stimulate regeneration in your network. If your body responds well, you could eventually sever the seal's influence yourself."
Silence stretched.
She didn't like either path.
"Why not use Takama? Or Kuro?"
"Because I haven't studied them. Because if it fails, they die. And because," he smiled thinly, "they lack the ideal compatibility serpents offer—chakra that is invasive by nature, not to mention familiar to me."
Hinata's fingers tightened on her lap.
"Do you expect me to accept this?"
"I expect you to understand," he said, stepping into her line of perception. "Power rarely comes clean."
She took a breath. And then... she remembered.
<<<< o >>>>
A cold wind swept the cliffs above a scorched battlefield, heavy with iron and clay.
From a rocky ledge, a priestess stood. Diverted from her path between towns in the land of iron, attracted by the noise of unusual conflict.
It was Hinata—but not her true self. One of her spiritual avatars, draped in silver robes, eyes veiled in white silk. The breath of the Silver World flowed softly around her.
Below, chaos reigned. Two figures battled a squad of Iwa shinobi. Explosions tore through the hills, but her eyes focused only on the puppeteer.
Sasori.
Still. Calm. Surrounded by motion. tree, Five, Ten puppets moved with lethal harmony. Limbs snapped open like blooming steel flowers. Chakra threads flickered like spider silk.
But his soul... was not inside his body.
It pulsed through the threads. It danced inside hollow joints and dead eyes. His true self was scattered, a consciousness dismembered into motion.
He isn't alive, she thought. He's memory. Discipline. Purpose without pulse.
By contrast, Deidara howled and raged. A storm of chaos. Alive.
But Sasori...
Sasori was eternal. And empty.
The priestess placed a hand over her chest. Her true self, far away, pulsed with spiritual breath. A body not powered by chakra, but soul. Not perfect. But hers.
I could follow him. Become precise. Abandon pain for control.
She saw it: a vision of herself, pale and cold. A body of joints and metal. Eyes that could no longer weep.
It horrified her.
No. That's not a path. It's a loop. A stillness that pretends to be peaceful.
Below, Sasori's victory unfolded. But to her, it felt like, loss.
The world is not made of spirit alone, nor flesh. It is born between them.
She stepped back from the edge.
Sasori severed his thread. I chose to weave mine anew.
<<<< o >>>>
Hinata opened her eyes.
She could not see. But Orochimaru saw himself reflected in them nonetheless—what she had become.
She called inward, to the Silver World. She felt its pulse. The laughter of children. The breath of samurai. The grief of the fallen.
I carry too many dreams now to fall.
She stood.
"Bring it," she said.
And the choice was made.