The journey to the Iron Capital was not the quiet passage Kabuto had envisioned. He had expected a simple escort, a chance to secure Orochimaru's interest, and a smooth return. Instead, he found himself adjusting to a new and confounding variable: a girl who defied all expectations.
Hinata, pale and smaller since the procedure, rode quietly atop Kuro, cloaked and contemplative. Mitsue, now sleek and glimmering silver, wrapped comfortably around her neck like a living scarf. Kabuto had been keeping notes since their departure—on her appetite, her energy, her unusual patterns of recovery. He'd expected gradual normalization. He did not expect, the hunger.
By the first night, Hinata had consumed the last of the rations. Kabuto noticed first.
"Those were the last of the food packs," Kabuto's voice was sharp. "If we want to keep moving at this pace, your companion will need to start hunting."
Mitsue coiled more tightly around Hinata in response, clearly having no intention of leaving her side. Hinata's stomach growled again, her pale cheeks reddening in quiet embarrassment.
Kuro lowered her head, a silent nod of acknowledgment, before silently slipping into the surrounding forest—her silhouette disappearing like a shadow cast by moonlight.
"I'm sorry," she said, bowing slightly. "I don't know why I'm this hungry. It's like... my body's burning everything faster."
"Your body is still transforming," Orochimaru replied coolly from across the fire, his gaze reflecting the flames. "We thought the major changes were complete. It seems there is still much to learn. Fascinating."
Seeking a change of subject, Hinata tilted her head. "They say you want to learn every Jutsu in the world. Do you really think that's possible?."
Orochimaru paused before answering. His smile was faint, eerie. "It's not. Not truly. There are infinite variations—nuances to chakra, to form, to will. But the pursuit... that's what matters."
Hinata thought quietly for a moment, then answered. "I have a dream too. I want to change the world's fate. I want a future where I and the people I love can be happy... and where others can reach for the same. It won't be easy. But like you, I think the path matters."
Orochimaru's smile widened slightly, just enough for Mitsue to notice and shift uncomfortably. "A noble dream," he said. "Time will tell if the world deserves it."
Their conversation faded into the crackling of firewood. Hinata mulled over his words until the silence was broken by Kuro, who returned with four rabbits clenched in her jaws.
"It appears the hunt's done," Hinata said with satisfaction, Kuro dropping the rabbits by the fire. "I think, next time, it will be Mitsue's turn."
The silver serpent gave an unimpressed flick of her tail, curling tighter around Hinata's shoulders. Clearly does not intend to move from where she is.
Kabuto made no comment—he simply resumed writing in his journal, his quill scratching softly beneath the stars.
<<<< o >>>>
The journey to the capital was not delayed much—only five days, despite the hunger-driven interruptions of one unusually ravenous girl.
The sun had barely crested the eastern peaks when the gates of the Iron Capital came into view. The city stood proud atop its mountainous perch, its layered fortresses bristling with banners and spires. But something in the air was wrong.
Hinata rode silently atop Kuro, her cloak drawn low, she was currently under the transformation Jutsu to show herself as she was before her last trip to Otogakure, with Mitsue coiled lightly around her shoulders. At her side, Orochimaru advanced on foot, his robes untouched by dust, with Kabuto just behind him, reading expressions more than terrain.
She expected to find an air of celebration upon arrival. After all, Renga was hosting the first anniversary of the succession trials, and there were rumors he would propose to Lady Sayaka. It was the reason her father had been summoned here—Mifune himself had requested Takama's presence before and after the festivities.
The mountain spirit wept. The flags hung limp, untouched even by the brisk wind. She could sense it in every stone and shadow: something was terribly wrong.
The spirits of the people were subdued, their joy withered. The air felt heavier, like a silent dagger had pierced the heart of the land.
Her chest tightened at the sensation. She had felt such sorrow once before—and had sworn never to feel it again.
The city awaited. But celebration was nowhere to be found.
No horns. No procession. No welcome.
Even the guards at the gate seemed unsure. They bowed stiffly as the party passed through, but there were whispers behind their helmets.
"What is going on here?" Hinata murmured, her tone more measured than surprised.
"It seems your father's court has had... recent complications," Orochimaru offered. His voice was calm, but Hinata could sense his interest, sharpened like a knife.
As they reached the inner walls, Hinata dismounted. The atmosphere was oppressive. Samurai stood in tense formations. Civilians whispered from behind doors. An escort arrived—one of Takama's lieutenants, a woman named Saho. Her armor bore signs of recent wear.
"Lady Gin," she bowed deeply. "I'm sorry for the lack of ceremony. There has been a death in the high court."
Hinata's breath caught. "Renga."
Saho nodded. "Two nights ago. He was found stabbed in his private chamber—alongside Lady Sayaka. Initial reports claimed she had taken her own life, but... the scene was staged too perfectly. There are whispers of a secret affair, rumors meant to paint it as a tragedy of passion. But those of us close to the court know better."
Hinata remained silent, listening intently.
"My lady, they were both too careful for such recklessness. There were no signs of struggle. Only a single witness claims they heard soft murmurs moments before a scream."
Hinata's hands tightened at her sides. Mitsue hissed softly. "Too convenient for Tenshō"
Saho gave a single nod. "Takama believes the same. He's supervising the investigation. But the trail is already cold."
"Then we'll warm it again," Hinata said, eyes narrowing. "Take me to my father. Now."
They moved quickly through the stone corridors of the central keep. Whispers followed her, some reverent, others fearful. The legend of the Moon Cult and its priestesses had arrived ahead of her. All of them carrying the same mark as her moved through the iron lands.
Inside the war chamber, Takama stood at a great table strewn with scrolls and maps. His armor hung open at the collar, his face marked by fatigue. He looked up—and for a moment, something in his expression softened.
"Hinata."
She crossed the chamber without hesitation, embracing him.
Only after the moment passed did her voice steel itself again. "Tell me everything."
Takama gestured to a nearby chair. "We'll talk. But know this: someone has moved against us from within. And whoever it was... they were very careful."
Behind her, Orochimaru lingered near a column, unreadable, while Kabuto quietly took in the strategic diagrams on the wall.
"As expected, you didn't come alone," Takama said, gently placing a protective hand on Hinata's shoulder while casting a glance toward Orochimaru, who lounged casually near a column, entirely unfazed.
"I came only to collect what was promised," Orochimaru replied with a thin smile. "The procedure was a success. Her chakra is suppressing the seal's influence. Her body has fully regenerated the damage it once caused. She can bear children again... and given time, I believe her eyesight may return."
Takama and Hinata froze—him at the revelation, her because she could feel the truth. Every word Orochimaru spoke resonated with conviction. He believed it. He was proud of it.
Hinata gave a slight nod, silently confirming it to her father.
Takama's face grew serious. "Orochimaru... I am truly grateful to hear this. And just as you kept your word, I will honor mine."
His hand moved to the hilt of his sword—a weapon forged and reforged through two wars, now imbued with Michel's blessing and the venom potent enough to kill a god. Takama focused on the spiritual chains still clinging to Orochimaru, vestiges of the souls he had consumed. In one breath, his blade flashed.
The chains severed.
Hinata watched as the bound spirits were released, their torment undone. A distant rumble followed, and the black gate of the afterlife cracked open—through which the Shinigami came to collect.
Orochimaru staggered, breath caught in his throat. For the first time in years, he felt the absence of their weight. The relief was staggering. He laughed—not cruelly, but softly, honestly. A real smile broke across his face.
"My doors are open to you and your companion," Takama said, lowering his blade. "If you are a good guest, I will be a good host. Even in these difficult times, my word stands."
Orochimaru bowed his head slightly, strangely solemn. Mitsue observed quietly from Hinata's shoulders, and Kuro, ever watchful, gave a low chuff of acknowledgment as peace settled—if only for now.
Now free from the chains he didn't know he was carrying, Orochimaru feels a clarity he hasn't had since before using this technique.