The woods thickened as Souta and Hinata pressed westward, the air heavy with pine and the faint tang of wet earth. Sunlight speared through the canopy in thin, golden shafts, dappling the forest floor in shifting patterns.
Souta's boots crunched over twigs, each snap a gunshot in the stillness, while Hinata glided beside him—silent.
Her pale eyes flicked side to side, Byakugan pulsing faintly.
The creek's murmur faded behind them, replaced by the rustle of leaves and the distant cry of a hawk overhead. His pack jostled against his back, the weight of it grounding him as his breath puffed out in small, misty clouds.
Bandits dead, rogue ninja gone, and He's still stomping through the woods like an idiot chasing smoke. He glanced at Hinata, her focus locked ahead, and smirked inwardly. Guess I've got a Hyuga babysitter now. Could be worse.
"See anything?" he asked, voice low.
Hinata didn't break stride. "Not yet. The shinobi's chakra's fading—moving west, fast. No one else close." Her tone was calm.
"Good," he muttered, kicking a pinecone. It skittered into the underbrush, a dull thud against moss. "Last thing I need is another knife-happy lunatic jumping us."
She shot him a sidelong glance, lips twitching. "You'd manage. You're scrappy."
"Scrappy?" He snorted, adjusting his cloak. "That's what you call a guy with no jutsu and a dull knife? Flattering."
"It's a compliment," she said, voice softening. "Not everyone needs chakra to survive out here." Her gaze drifted back to the trees, scanning. "You've got… something. Instinct, maybe."
Instinct. Sure. More like dumb luck and a knack for not dying yet. He shrugged, letting it slide. "Guess that's why you're sticking around. My charm's just a bonus."
Hinata's laugh was soft, a whisper against the wind. "Don't push it."
They walked deeper into the forest, the path dissolving into a tangle of roots and ferns.
Souta's legs burned, his breath hitching with each step, but he kept pace—barely. Hinata moved like she was born to it, her sandals brushing the ground without a sound. Show-off, he thought, wiping sweat from his brow. Bet she could dodge raindrops if she tried.
The woods opened abruptly, spilling them onto the riverbank. The water rushed wide and swift, a silver ribbon cutting through the green, flecked with white where it churned over rocks. The sound roared in Souta's ears, drowning out the forest's hum. He squinted against the glare, the sun bouncing off the surface like shards of glass.
"Riverlands," Hinata said, stopping short. She crouched, fingers brushing the dirt, eyes narrowing. "We're close to a crossing. Could be tracks."
"Tracks?" Souta dropped beside her, peering at the ground. Nothing but mud and pebbles to him. "You see something I don't?"
Her Byakugan flared, veins bulging. "Footprints. Faint. Two sets—shinobi boots, headed north along the bank. Recent, maybe an hour old." She straightened, pointing upstream. "That way."
Pakura?. "Could be my friend. Or trouble. You sure it's just two?"
"No others," she said, firm. "But they're moving fast. If we follow, we'll need to hurry."
He nodded, standing. "Lead on, eagle-eyes."
She Smiled faintly, then took off along the bank. Souta followed.
The ground softened underfoot, mud sucking at his boots, slowing him down.
Minutes bled into a blur of water and green. The river curved, narrowing as it carved through a rocky stretch, the banks rising into low cliffs.
Hinata slowed, raising a hand. Souta stumbled to a stop, chest heaving, and followed her gaze. Ahead, a rope bridge swayed over the rapids—old, frayed, planks missing in spots. Two figures stood on the far side, cloaked, their backs to the water.
"Trouble?" he whispered, hand sliding to his knife.
"Maybe," she said, voice tight. Her eyes locked on them, unblinking. "No village markings. Chakra's… strange. Suppressed, but strong."
"For us?" His grip tightened, knuckles white.
"Could be." She stepped closer, her shoulder brushing his. "They haven't seen us yet. We could back off—circle around."
"Or?" He kept his eyes on the figures.
"Or we cross," she said. "I can take them if it comes to it."
He snorted, dark humor bubbling up. "What, I just cheer from the sidelines? 'Go, Hinata, kick their asses'?"
She didn't smile. "Stay behind me. You're not useless, but they're out of your league."
Ouch. Fair, though. He nodded, exhaling hard. "Fine. Bridge it is."
They crept toward the crossing, the rope creaking underfoot as they stepped onto it. The wind tugged at Souta's cloak, the river roaring below, a hungry maw waiting to swallow them. Hinata moved first, steady, her hands gripping the frayed cords. He followed, boards groaning, his stomach lurching with every sway.
'If I fall, at least I'll go out wet and miserable.'
Halfway across, one figure turned. A hood shadowed their face, but Souta caught the glint of steel—a kunai, poised in their hand. The other shifted, silent, and the air snapped taut. No words, no taunts—just a sudden blur of motion. The first lunged, kunai slashing straight for Souta's throat, no hesitation in the strike.
Souta ducked, clumsy but quick, the blade whistling past his ear. "Shit!" he yelped, stumbling back as the second figure darted forward, a tanto gleaming in their grip, aimed for his gut. He twisted, heart hammering, but Hinata was already there—fast, a blur—grabbing the first attacker's wrist and twisting hard. A snap echoed, the kunai clattering to the planks, and the figure grunted, staggering.
The second froze mid-strike, their hood slipping just enough to reveal a flicker of recognition as they locked eyes with Hinata. Those pale, unmistakable Hyuga eyes—veins bulging faintly as her Byakugan flared—gave them pause. "Hyuga?" the figure hissed, voice low, uncertain, and they hesitated, blade wavering.