Hinata wasn't supposed to be out of bed yet.
At least, that was what her cousin would have said, if Neji had any say in the matter. Rest. Recuperate. Accept defeat. The words would be cold, flat, carved along his tongue like seal script.
Kurenai-sensei had different ideas.
"Fresh air is good for healing," she said, striding down the corridor with a slim folder tucked under her arm. "Light walking only. No sparring. No chakra exertion."
"Yes, sensei," Hinata murmured, hands clasped in front of her.
Her ribs twinged under the neat bindings. Her chakra still felt… wrong. Not blocked, just bruised, like all her tenketsu had tiny storm-clouds sitting on them. Every breath stirred pressure behind her eyes where the Byakugan slept.
They passed a window. Outside, Konoha's sky was overcast, a solid lid of gray pressing down on the rooftops.
Hinata tried not to take it personally.
"What are we doing exactly?" she asked, because Naruto wasn't around to blurt the question for her.
Kurenai glanced back with the faintest smile. "Dropping off mission reports to the diplomatic office," she said. "Including one on your match."
Hinata's shoulders crept up toward her ears. "O-oh."
Kurenai's smile gentled. "It's a good report," she added. "You stood your ground."
Hinata didn't know how to argue with that without sounding ungrateful, so she just nodded. She had stood. For a while. Then she had fallen so hard that her own chakra system had tried to shut down in self-defense.
Naruto-kun had shouted for her. Sylvie had screamed with a stranger's voice over her own.
It all blurred together in her memory now, like a painting left out in the rain.
They turned a corner, moving from the hospital wing toward the broader, better-lit corridors of the administrative tower. The change in atmosphere was immediate: fewer antiseptic smells, more paper and ink and the faint, expensive tang of polished wood.
Voices drifted from ahead. Not loud—nothing in this wing was ever loud—but carrying, the way certain people's words always did.
"…an honor to host you, as always," someone was saying. The tone was honeyed, practiced. "We value Kumogakure's… interest in our village's traditions."
Hinata slowed without meaning to.
Around the next bend, the corridor opened into a small reception hall. A carved wooden plaque on the far wall bore the Fire Country emblem. A vase full of carefully arranged plum branches stood beneath it.
Between the vase and the plaque, three people stood talking.
One was a Konoha official Hinata had seen at her father's side once or twice during clan functions. Civilian, not shinobi. Slick hair, slicker smile, the kind of man who bowed just enough to everyone and never more.
The other two wore hitai-ate with carved clouds on them.
Kumo.
Hinata's breath caught in her throat.
She didn't remember ever being told, explicitly, to be wary of Cloud ninja. No one in the compound sat her down and said: Be careful around them. But she'd grown up with the shape of it anyway. With the way her father's shoulders tightened when Kumo was mentioned. With the way the elders' voices went thin.
An incident years ago, she'd overheard once. Something to do with treaties. Something to do with Byakugan.
She'd asked more, and the room had gone colder, and that had been that.
Now, the idea of Kumo shinobi standing in the middle of Konoha's heart made all the little storm-clouds in her chakra shift restlessly.
One of them was a man, tall, dark-skinned, his hair tied back in a neat tail. His uniform was clean, crisp, the cloud symbol shining on his forehead protector. He held himself with the easy balance of a jōnin; his eyes were sharp, measuring.
His chakra—Hinata felt it even without her Byakugan active—was like a high-tension wire humming in the distance. Sharp. Hungry. Electric. Lightning coiled into courtesy.
Beside him stood a kunoichi with a mane of bright orange hair and a scowl that looked almost comfortable on her face. Younger, chūnin level from the feel of her, but not far from Hinata's age. She leaned against the wall like she owned it, arms folded, eyes narrowed just slightly.
Her chakra was hot and dry, like sun-baked stone. Not wild, not soft. Focused.
Hinata stopped just before the corner, heart rabbiting in her chest.
Kurenai's hand touched her elbow, a gentle questioning pressure. Hinata swallowed and shook her head quickly, indicating she was fine, just… listening.
The Fire official smiled wider. "Of course, of course," he said. "Konoha has always been proud of our cooperation with Kumogakure."
The Kumo jōnin—Shī, Hinata realized abruptly, recognizing the name from a mission roster she'd once delivered—the jōnin did not smile back.
"Cooperation," he repeated. The word sat oddly in his mouth, like it tasted different to him. "You cooperate by hoarding the Hyūga's eyes and keeping their secrets locked behind your walls."
Hinata flinched like he'd slapped her.
Kurenai's fingers tightened on her elbow, a tiny warning.
The official chuckled, a sound that skated over the surface of tension without ever touching it. "The Byakugan," he said smoothly, "is a treasured gift of our village's Hyūga clan. As per the agreement, the bloodline remains—"
"In your hands alone," Shī finished. His voice was polite. His chakra was not. It crackled around the words, a static hiss under a silk shirt. "Kumogakure sends observers, offers alliance, participates in your exams, and yet when we propose joint research into dōjutsu applications, your answer is always no."
He didn't raise his voice. He didn't have to. The criticism was precise, aimed, like a kunai thrown from close range.
The official's chakra felt like oil being heated slowly. Smooth, slick, starting to bubble at the edges.
"We have shared quite a lot with our allies," he said. "Mission intel. Route access. Resources."
"But not what truly matters," Shī said. "Those eyes of yours tilt the battlefield. You know it. Your Hokage knows it. The Hyūga elders know it."
The kunoichi—Karui, Hinata's memory supplied from the same vague briefing that had held Shī's name—snorted. "Yeah," she said. "From where we're standing, it looks a lot like 'Konoha gets all the good toys, everyone else gets lecture notes.'"
Her words were blunt. Her gaze was not. Her eyes were watching the official's hands, his stance, his distance to the nearest door. Calculating.
Hinata's palms had gone slick with sweat. She tried to pull back, but her feet wouldn't move.
The word Hyūga hung in the air like smoke.
At the far end of the hall, a set of shoji screens slid open.
Neji stepped through, flanked by one of the Hyūga elders and a branch house attendant.
Hinata's spine went rigid.
He hadn't seen her yet. His head was turned toward the elder, expression calm, mouth set in its usual flat line.
Then Shī said, very clearly, "We both know the only reason Kumo doesn't have those eyes already is… a certain incident. And a certain 'agreement' the Fire Country insisted on afterward."
Neji stopped.
Chakra flared in him, a sudden, white-hot spike. Hinata felt it like a stab of light behind her forehead. There and gone, in the space between one breath and the next.
Then it flattened. Smoothed. Sank.
By the time Neji turned his head toward the voices, his chakra felt like it always did when he looked at her in the training field: contained fury compressed down into something cold and sharp.
His pale eyes flicked to the Kumo visitors. Then, past them, he caught a glimpse of Hinata waiting at the corner.
For a heartbeat, their gazes met.
There was no time to read anything in his face. Just the barest tightening around his eyes, a flicker down to her bandaged ribs, and then he looked away, back to the elder, back to the game he was allowed to play.
The elder inclined his head a fraction toward the Fire official and Shī, a silent acknowledgement, and swept past toward the inner offices. Neji followed, every line of his body disciplined.
Hinata's chest hurt.
Kurenai's hand squeezed her arm. "We should go," she said quietly.
"They… they're talking about…" Hinata's voice came out too soft. She cleared her throat. "About us."
"Yes," Kurenai said.
Her tone had gone cool, the way it did when she was talking to other adults instead of genin. She guided Hinata back a few steps, away from the corner, away from the line of sight.
"I thought…" Hinata swallowed. "I thought Kumo were allies now."
"We are," Kurenai said. "Mostly."
Mostly. The word tasted like old iron.
Ahead, the conversation continued in low tones. The official was saying something about "national security interests" and "mutual respect." Shī's chakra hissed once, then steadied.
"Sensei," Hinata whispered. "What… incident were they…?"
Kurenai hesitated.
Even that was an answer. Kurenai never hesitated just to be dramatic. That was Naruto's realm.
"There was trouble with Kumo some years ago," Kurenai said finally. "Before you were old enough to remember properly. It involved the Hyūga. It involved the Byakugan. There were… disagreements over what treaty terms meant."
"T-treaty terms," Hinata repeated numbly.
"It isn't my story to tell in full," Kurenai added. "Your father… or the elders… should have that talk with you. Properly. When they're ready."
Hinata hugged her arms around herself. "I don't think they ever will," she said before she could stop herself.
Kurenai's eyes softened. "Then I'll tell you what I can, when I can," she said. "For now, what you need to know is this: Kumo's interest in our eyes isn't new. And it isn't friendly."
"I… see," Hinata murmured.
She didn't, not really. All she saw were fragments: her father's tight jaw, Hizashi-ojisan's name spoken like a warning, Neji's hatred, the way the elders' voices went quiet around certain topics.
And now Cloud shinobi in the Hokage's tower, speaking about her bloodline like it was a resource to requisition.
"We're not going that way?" she asked as Kurenai guided her down a side corridor instead of toward the hall.
"No," Kurenai said. "We'll take the back stair. Less… tension."
"B-because of me," Hinata said, a bitter little realization.
"Because of them," Kurenai corrected gently. "You didn't create this. You inherited it."
The words sat heavy and strange in Hinata's chest. Inherited, like eye colour. Or a curse mark no one could see.
They turned down the narrower corridor. The walls here were plain, unadorned, the sound of their footsteps soft on the wooden floor.
Hinata risked a glance back.
The hall was still visible through the open mouth of the passage. The Fire official was bowing and scraping with his words. Shī stood like a storm cloud waiting to happen.
Karui had drifted a few steps away from them, attention apparently on the plum vase.
Her gaze, however, was not on the flowers.
It was on Hinata.
Their eyes met across the distance.
Hinata froze.
Karui didn't look surprised to see her. She looked… assessing. Like Hinata was a puzzle on a board, or a target on a range.
Her chakra brushed against Hinata's senses: hot, keen, edged. Not the blunt, crashing power of someone like Naruto-kun, or the suffocating weirdness of Gaara. More like a blade left in the sun. Comfortable with its purpose.
Karui's gaze flicked once, down to Hinata's bandaged ribs, then up to her face again. Her mouth curled, not quite into a smile.
Kurenai tugged lightly on Hinata's sleeve. "Come on," she said. "We're not part of this conversation."
Hinata let herself be led away.
As they turned the corner, she caught one last piece of sound from the hall: Shī's low voice, saying something about "observation period" and "future opportunities."
The words crawled under her skin.
They descended the back stairs, the noise of the upper corridors fading behind them. Down here, the air was cooler. The smell of incense from some distant shrine drifted faintly.
Hinata realized she was rubbing the side of her neck, fingers pressed to a point just below her ear. The place where, in half-remembered nightmares, a hand had grabbed her as a child and dragged her toward an open window.
She stopped, forcing her hand back to her side.
Kurenai noticed anyway. Of course she did.
"You're safe here," Kurenai said quietly. "Whatever… happened, whatever was almost taken, Konoha and the Hyūga shut that door. Remember that."
Hinata nodded. The gesture felt automatic.
Safe.
She thought of Gaara's sand closing around Lee's limbs. Of Neji's fingers hammering into her tenketsu. Of Naruto yelling that he'd change destiny, and Sylvie screaming with some other man's voice layered over her own.
"Sensei," she said, and her voice came out small. "Do you… do you think some people are just born to be… fought over?"
Kurenai stopped on the stair and turned to look at her fully.
"In my experience," she said, "people are born. Full stop. What others decide to fight over is up to them. You're not an object, Hinata. You're a person. Even if some people forget that."
She rested a hand, gentle but steady, on Hinata's shoulder.
"And if anyone tries to forget it in front of me," Kurenai added, voice going knife-sharp for an instant, "they'll regret it."
Hinata's throat tightened. "T-thank you," she whispered.
Kurenai squeezed once and started down the stairs again. "Come on," she said. "Let's get these reports delivered and then find you some tea. Medic's orders: no doom-spiraling on an empty stomach."
Hinata followed, one hand lightly tracing the railing.
Above them, unseen, clouds shifted over Konoha, heavy and low.
In a hallway not far away, a Kumo kunoichi with bright orange hair watched the empty space where a Hyūga girl had been moments before and filed the sight away with all the neat, hard lines of a shinobi thinking about future missions.