It was a new night.
Hinata didn't know what Michel would show her this time. But she wanted to know. There were pieces of herself still hidden—things she could not name, memories she did not know were hers.
Michel was already waiting by the crystal table, hands resting gently on its surface. The soft glow of the room reflected in the mirrored glass, casting silver light across his features.
Calm but curious, Hinata approached and offered a quiet greeting.
"Good evening, Grandfather… what will you show me tonight?"
Michel didn't speak at first. He simply gestured toward the seat across from him. She sat.
Only then did he respond, his voice tinged with a weight she hadn't heard in a long time.
"Your mother's death had consequences for me," he said. "Because of it, I began to take more risks… what I'll show you is a collection of memories I gathered during that time. I've… adjusted some of them, so they don't overwhelm you."
Hinata nodded and reached out.
Her hand met the crystal surface once more. Kuro was beside her—ever loyal. Since that last night, she had made it clear: she would be by her side for every visit from now on.
Together, they waited for the past to return.
Michel felt the silence had changed—not gentler, but deeper. Hinata still slept, still breathed, but something in her soul had anchored. Not strength, but presence—rooted in her mother's memory, in love whispered as "my little moonlight."
He had protected her, but now he questioned: was it enough? She would grow, and growth brought struggle. She needed not just safety, but resilience.
Michel had never used chakra. What moved in him was different—older. He called it soul power, will-shaped energy that survived death. And now he wondered: could it grow too?
He was currently using his focus on two things, the first was used to resist the constant attraction towards Hinata using the white threads of the natural energy of this world, the second was to continuously maintain Hinata's vitality using the fragments that she absorbs from him to try to activate her vitality, somehow remedying her dissonance.
He decided on a third focus, he concentrated in the void between dreams and world, quieting even Hinata's presence. He reached outward—and touched something vast. Nature. Not chakra, not soul, but the rhythm beneath all things. It didn't guide. It didn't rage. It simply was.
When Michel reached with his grey soul, it resisted. But as he listened instead of forcing, it allowed him in. The pain was immense—it felt like mountains grinding through him. Still, he endured. He began to feel more than Hinata—he felt the world. Souls. Grief. Lives. And threads of connection: glowing white cords between people, the web of life itself.
He saw Hinata's: one strong thread to her father, and the rest… brittle, or absent. Michel felt sorrow. She was alone, even in a full house.
Then, he faltered. The strain cracked his focus. Hinata's breath hitched—Michel returned his strength to her instantly. It was close. Too close. He needed to do this for her.
But something had changed. Amid the pain, a new color shimmered in his soul: silver. A filament of something new, yet ancient. Not chakra. Not nature. A Silver Soul.
He drew it inward, kept it hidden from Hinata. Not yet. It was too soon. Too dangerous. He didn't know the consequences of allowing this to touch her.
"I am the firebreak," he thought. "The filter. The forge."
In that vast stillness, Michel knew: he was no longer just holding on. He was evolving.
And for Hinata, he would become what she needed—no matter the cost.
Hinata sat in silence, still processing the memory that had just faded from the crystal table.
"Grandfather… What is natural energy?" she asked softly, her voice almost a whisper, eyes reflecting lingering wonder.
Michel took a breath, answering with gentle caution. "Natural energy is the life force of the world around us. It flows through all living things—it's the rhythm and breath of nature itself. That's the web I felt back then."
Hinata tilted her head slightly, thoughtful. "Then… why didn't you use the silver threads with natural energy on me as soon as you discovered them?"
Michel's expression grew solemn. "Because your situation was delicate. The power within those threads was overwhelming. To use them safely required perfect control. Your life was on the line… and I couldn't risk losing you. I needed to be sure."
Hinata slowly nodded, absorbing the weight of his words. Her gaze didn't leave him.
Then she frowned, her brows pulling together. "You said I had no connections… that I was only linked to my father. Why?"
Michel looked down briefly, as if choosing his words with care. "At the time, I didn't understand it fully. But now I do… and I'm afraid the truth won't be easy to hear."
Hinata's voice remained steady, though low. "Is that why you asked if I wanted to see something about my father?"
"Yes," Michel said quietly after a pause. "You may not realize it yet, but… he did care for you. He simply had a different way of showing it."
Hinata exhaled, her shoulders relaxing just slightly. "Alright… Please continue and if you have something about my father to show me, go ahead."
And once more, she reached out and placed her hand gently on the crystal table.
Hinata's home no longer held the echoes of her mother. The warmth, the gentle sounds—gone. Only silence remained, and Michel felt the weight of it in every step she took.
The birth of Hanabi added to the sorrow, not healing it. Hinata tried to bond with her baby sister, but the connection felt absent. A hesitant hand pulled back. A smile left unanswered. A thread that refused to awaken.
The nursemaids were polite, but cold. Their words stung, even when unspoken. "Still no Byakugan?" Michel heard it all. He wanted to speak up, but could not. So he watched, a silent guardian to a soul dimming under pressure.
Hiashi, present but distant, showed love through quiet structure. He lingered at Hinata's door, listened for her breath at night—but never said the words she needed to hear.
Even Neji was distant. Not cruel, but cold. Michel sensed his conflict, but to Hinata, it was just another absence.
Over the months, Michel gave what he could: stability, warmth, soul. Hinata grew stronger physically, but the emotional wound lingered.
In his solitude, Michel deepened his own connection to the world. He began to align with the breath of nature—silence becoming guidance, stillness becoming flow. He called this 'The breath of the world'. Slowly, he refined his silver threads and dared to connect them to Hinata. Just one at first. It soothed rather than overwhelmed. Then came the next one and the next…
Over time, the link between them strengthened. She grew livelier, more balanced. And Michel, too, began to change. He could sense more—beyond Hinata, beyond the compound. He touched the village's soul.
When Hinata dreamed, she entered a new space—born of both their spirits. The Silver World. A dojo of memory. A sky of emotion. A ground that responded to will. Here, Michel built comforts: dolls, firelight, music. In dreams, she laughed again.
Hinata's voice trembled slightly. "Why… Why couldn't I ever connect with her? Was there something wrong with me?"
Michel's gaze softened, but his words carried weight. "It was never your fault. You did all you could. But some threads… they never find each other."
Hinata looked away, frustration creeping into her tone. "When will you tell me what actually happened?"
Michel hesitated. His voice cracked faintly. "I will… when the time is right. The path matters too. I feared that if I told you everything at once… you might hate me. Like I—"
He couldn't finish.
Hinata stood and stepped away from the table. Then, with quiet resolve, she walked over and wrapped her arms around him.
"It's alright, Grandfather. I promise I won't get angry. I'll see things the way you want to show them… okay?"
Michel closed his eyes and returned the embrace.
Trying to shift his thoughts, Hinata tilted her head and asked, "Then how come you could make toys in the Silver World, but not in the Grey World? Didn't you already build a dojo there?"
Michel gave a low chuckle. "Calling it a dojo is generous… It was barely four walls and a roof. Creating anything in the Grey World was painfully difficult. You created a tree there—that was a miracle. But the Silver World… It made things easier. It offered a kind of freedom I didn't have before. And in the process of building, I improved—my skill, my control."
He looked down at his hands. "Don't forget—while doing all of that, I was constantly resisting the pull toward you."
Hinata blinked, then asked thoughtfully, "Is that attraction easier to manage now that you have a Silver Soul?"
Michel nodded, his voice calm. "Yes. Much easier. I can stay away from you without strain now, and the distance I can keep has grown. That helps too."
Hinata smiled. "I'm glad It's safer now."
"I'm better now," he whispered, his voice steadier. "Thanks to you, little one."