The town rose from the dusty road like a fever dream, a sudden, garish explosion of life after miles of quiet forest and sleepy farmland. It was a chaotic symphony of sight and sound, a place built on the transient currency of luck and impulse. Banners of faded red and gold snapped in the wind, strung between buildings that leaned on each other for support like weary drunks. The air was a thick, intoxicating stew of smells: the sharp, savory tang of grilled squid on skewers, the cloying sweetness of spun sugar, the rich, earthy scent of brewing tea, and underneath it all, the faint, metallic aroma of spilled sake and desperation.
"Whoa! Look at this place!" Naruto's voice was a cannonball of pure joy, shattering the traveling silence they had. His head swiveled on his neck, his blue eyes wide as dinner plates, trying to drink in everything at once. "There are game stalls! And food! So much food! Can we get some dango, Pervy Sage? Please? Just one stick!"
Hinata, walking silently beside him, was experiencing the same sensory overload, but her mind processed it with the cold efficiency of a tactical computer. Her Byakugan remained dormant, but her other senses, honed to a razor's edge by her partner, were feasting. She could hear the clatter of dice from three streets away, the quiet murmur of a clandestine deal being struck in a shadowed alley, the hiss of oil hitting a hot griddle. The scents were a map, each stall and shop a distinct territory defined by its culinary output.
The porcine fats being rendered in that stall to the left are of a higher quality, Venom commented from the quiet throne room of her mind, its voice a low, analytical purr. But the cephalopod being grilled on the open flame to the right offers superior protein. And that… The thought trailed off, replaced by a low, humming thrum of pure, focused desire. …That is the scent of high-cocoa-content chocolate being melted. Unrefined, but potent. We will require a sample. For… analysis.
Hinata felt her own mouth water in response, a reflexive reaction she was still getting used to.
"Patience, brat," Jiraiya grumbled, his eyes scanning the chaotic streets with the weary appraisal of a man looking for a specific type of rot. He navigated the throng of people with an easy, practiced grace, a large man who somehow took up very little space. "First, we find a place to wet our whistles and gather some information. Then, you can stuff your face."
His destination became clear a moment later: a large, two-story building whose entrance was flanked by a pair of grinning, wooden tanuki statues. A sign hanging above the door depicted a stylized gold coin. It was a gambling hall, the beating, greedy heart of the entire town. As Jiraiya led them towards it, the nature of the stares they were receiving began to shift.
It started as a trickle, then became a current. The locals, merchants and travelers alike, had initially dismissed them as just another trio of shinobi passing through, their forehead protectors a common enough sight on these roads. But as they drew closer to the center of town, people began to look. They looked at Jiraiya's imposing size and the quiet, dangerous confidence he projected. They looked at Naruto's vibrant orange jumpsuit and the barely contained, chaotic energy that seemed to radiate from him.
But mostly, they looked at Hinata.
She had become accustomed to drawing attention, but here, in a town built on assessing value and weakness, the scrutiny was different. It was palpable, a physical weight on her skin. She was a tall among them, her height alone setting her apart from every other woman and most of the men. Her lavender jacket, worn unzipped, did little to conceal the powerful, statuesque hourglass figure beneath, a physique that was declaration of unnatural power. Men stopped their conversations to stare, their gazes a mixture of raw, carnal appreciation and a deep, instinctual unease. Women whispered behind their hands, their eyes flicking between her face—a mask of serene, otherworldly perfection—and the formidable, athletic swell of her bust and hips, their expressions a cocktail of envy and awe.
They recognize our superiority, Venom noted, its tone dripping with smug satisfaction. Their primitive assessment protocols have correctly identified us as the apex predator in this ecosystem. It is… appropriate.
Jiraiya pushed through the swinging doors of the gambling hall, leading them into a cavern of smoke, noise, and strained hope. The air was thick with the clatter of dice, the shuffling of cards, and the low, constant murmur of bets being placed and lost. Men hunched over tables, their faces grim, while hostesses in bright kimonos drifted between them like beautiful ghosts, refilling sake cups and offering encouraging, empty smiles.
The moment they entered, a hush fell over the tables nearest the door. Every eye turned to them. The forehead protectors marked them as shinobi, but it was their collective presence that commanded the room's attention. Jiraiya strode towards a long counter at the back, ignoring the stares with the ease of a man who was used to being the center of attention.
Two staff members, men with slicked-back hair and the sharp, predatory eyes of professional vultures, detached themselves from the walls and moved to intercept them. One of them, a man with a thin mustache and a smile that didn't reach his eyes, blocked Naruto's path.
"Welcome, shinobi-san!" he said, his voice oily and smooth. "Feeling lucky tonight? We have a game of Cho-Han just starting up. Simple wager, a chance to double that mission pay you're carrying. A strong young man like you must have the guts for it, no?"
The other man, taller and broader, approached Hinata. He clearly intended to use the same charming, predatory approach, but he stopped a few feet away, his practiced smile faltering. He was drawn to her, to the sheer, magnetic presence she projected, but something in her stillness, in the calm, quiet weight of her gaze, made the hairs on his arms stand up. He could feel a pressure emanating from her, a silent, ancient coldness that his instincts screamed was danger. He swallowed, his bravado deserting him.
"And… for the lovely lady?" he managed, his voice a full octave higher than he'd intended. "Perhaps… a game of Oicho-Kabu? It is a game of… finesse." He was trying to invite her to play, to draw her into the fold, but his words sounded less like a charming invitation and more like a nervous plea to a tiger not to eat him.
The taller man's fumbling attempt at an invitation hung in the air. Hinata's expression remained one of serene, placid neutrality, but her mind was already processing and dismissing the man's offer. Gambling was a chaotic, illogical expenditure of resources with no guaranteed return. It was inefficient. She was already formulating a polite, yet utterly final, refusal.
A pointless endeavor, Venom agreed, its tone laced with disinterest. The statistical probability of success is negligible. Our resources are better allocated to the acquisition of the aforementioned chocolate. Dismiss him.
She opened her mouth to do just that, but a flash of vibrant orange cut across her vision.
"You bet I've got the guts for it!" Naruto's voice, a sudden explosion of boisterous energy, made both gambling hall employees jump. He planted himself squarely in front of the man with the mustache, a wide, mischievous grin plastered on his face. "If there's a game, I'm in! I'm feeling lucky tonight, believe it!"
Hinata blinked, her perfectly laid plan of refusal dissolving into dust. She watched as Naruto, practically vibrating with a mixture of curiosity and pure, unadulterated confidence, strode over to the Cho-Han table. He gave her a brilliant, reassuring look over his shoulder. "Don't worry, Hinata! I'll win us enough money to buy the whole town's worth of dango! Just watch!"
Her doubt was a tangible thing. She scanned the men already seated at the low table, her enhanced senses peeling back their lazy smiles and relaxed postures. She saw the subtle tension in their shoulders, the way their eyes, like a pack of wolves, assessed Naruto as a fresh, plump sheep walking willingly into their pen. They were professionals, their chakra calm and controlled, their movements practiced and predatory. Looks like they were going to fleece him, enjoying every moment of it.
He needed support. It was a cold, hard fact. But what kind of support could she offer in a game of pure chance?
The variables are not limited to the dice, Venom supplied, its own predatory instincts stirring in response to the other sharks in the room. We can intimidate. Distract. Assert dominance. We can provide… support.
Naruto settled onto the woven tatami mat, grinning at the dealer who was preparing a small, lacquered cup and a pair of dice. He felt a sudden, inexplicable chill, as if the lanterns in the hall had dimmed. A shadow fell over him, a vast, eclipsing darkness that blotted out the light from above. The low chatter of the players around him died instantly. He saw their eyes widen, their smirks freezing and cracking on their faces as they stared at something directly behind him.
He felt a shift in the air, a subtle displacement of warmth and presence. Then, two hands, strong yet impossibly soft, came to rest on his shoulders. The touch was grounding, a firm, possessive weight that seemed to anchor him to the spot. A faint, intoxicating scent of chocolate, vanilla, clean soap, and something uniquely, deeply Hinata washed over him.
"H-Hinata?" he stammered, his bravado melting away. He craned his neck, trying to look up at her, to ask what she was doing.
He couldn't see her face. His entire upward field of vision was completely, utterly obscured by the magnificent, soft swell of her breasts, clad in the simple black fabric of her mission shirt. It was like trying to look at the sun past a pair of beautiful, perfectly-formed mountains. The world became a soft, warm, fragrant prison of lavender and black.
"You need support," her voice was a low, resonant purr directly above his head, the doubled harmony vibrating through his very bones. "I am here to help."
Naruto's brain short-circuited. A tidal wave of heat surged up his neck, turning his face a shade of red that would have made a tomato jealous. He was trapped. He was being protected. He was being smothered by the most incredible, terrifying, and wonderful force in the entire world. A strangled, hiccuping laugh escaped his lips.
"Y-Yeah! Support! That's great! Thanks!" he managed, his voice squeaking. He quickly turned his burning face back to the game, trying desperately to focus on the dealer, on the dice, on anything other than the two perfect, planet-sized orbs hovering just over the crown of his head. "Okay! I'm ready! Let's do this!"
Jiraiya leaned against the polished wood of the bar, swirling the last of the cheap sake in his cup. The proprietor, a man whose face was a roadmap of bad decisions, had been talkative. Too talkative. He'd confirmed that Tsunade had indeed passed through this town about a week ago, leaving a trail of shattered sake bottles and even more shattered bookies in her wake. The whispers suggested she was heading north, there are several towns, a places known for its hot springs and, more importantly, its high-stakes casinos. He had his lead. It was time to collect his brats and move on.
As he pushed himself off the bar and turned to re-enter the main hall, he paused. The usual din of the gambling den had changed. The low murmur was still there, but it was punctuated now by a sound he knew all too well: the low, agonized groans of men who had just lost everything. But mixed in with it, there was a smattering of cheers, the excited shouts of onlookers who were witnessing a miracle. A crowd, thick and dense, had formed around one of the Cho-Han tables, completely obscuring it from view.
"Tch. The brat probably lost all his money in five minutes," Jiraiya muttered to himself, a weary sigh escaping his lips as he began to push his way through the wall of bodies. "Excuse me. Pardon me. Sannin coming through."
He broke through the last line of gawkers and froze, his worldly, seen-it-all expression slackening into one of pure, stupefied disbelief.
There, in the center of the mat, was Naruto. On his face was a wild, glorious, and deeply embarrassed grin. And surrounding him, piled in magnificent, teetering towers, was a mountain of ryo bills and coins. It was an obscene amount of money, enough to buy the entire inn and everything in it. The professional gamblers who had been seated with him were now slumped against the walls, their faces pale, their pockets—and spirits—utterly broken.
And behind Naruto, sitting so close their bodies were practically one, was Hinata. Her hands still rested firmly on his shoulders, a silent, beautiful guardian. And due to her posture, leaning forward slightly in her protective stance, her magnificent chest was hovering directly over Naruto's head like a pair of benevolent, perfectly-shaped moons. She was the picture of serene, deadly focus, her lilac eyes watching the dealer's every move, a silent, living good-luck charm of terrifying and magnificent proportions.
Jiraiya stared, his mind, for once, completely blank. He had seen summoned beasts, fought in world wars, and written books about the most depraved acts imaginable. But this… this was something new entirely.
The walk away from the gambling hall was a victory parade of two, with Jiraiya trailing behind like a bemused zookeeper. Naruto, practically skipping, clutched a comically bulging sack of ryo bills, the coins within clinking a cheerful, triumphant rhythm. His face was a battlefield of emotions: a brilliant, sun-like grin of pure victory warring with a persistent, blotchy blush that crept up his neck whenever he glanced at the tall, serene woman walking beside him.
"Did you see their faces, Hinata?! Did you?!" he crowed, swinging the money bag with dangerous enthusiasm. "They looked like they'd swallowed a toad! I told you I was lucky! We're rich! We can buy all the Ichiraku ramen for a week! A month!"
Hinata smiled, a soft, genuine expression of warmth and amusement. The thrum of victory was a pleasant, humming current in the air between them, and she found herself enjoying his boisterous celebration more than she would have thought possible. A few paces behind them, she could hear the frantic scratching of a pen on paper. She glanced over her shoulder to see Jiraiya, a profoundly sleazy grin plastered on his face, furiously scribbling in his little orange notebook. His lips were moving, and she could just barely make out the whispered words, "…Chapter Three: The Goddess of Luck and Her Bountiful Fortune…"
The outcome remains a statistical anomaly, Venom grumbled internally, its cold, logical mind still grappling with the sheer impossibility of what it had witnessed. The probability of such a sustained winning streak, even accounting for amateur opponents, is infinitesimal. We observed no manipulation of the dice. No overt cheating. The orange one's luck factor is an outlier that defies all known models. It is… vexing.
"Come on!" Naruto's voice snapped her out of her thoughts. His hand, warm and slightly calloused, suddenly grabbed hers, the casual intimacy of the gesture sending a jolt straight to her core. He started running, pulling her along with him. "I promised you sweets! And a winner always keeps his promises!"
The acquisition of the specified neuro-active compounds is now imminent, Venom's mood pivoted with whiplash-inducing speed, its logical frustration instantly replaced by a singular, focused desire. This development has a high priority. Proceed with maximum alacrity.
Some time later, with the sweet, lingering taste of dark chocolate and dango still on their tongues, they stood in a wide, sun-drenched clearing on the outskirts of the town. The playful atmosphere had evaporated, replaced by the quiet, sharp-edged focus of training.
Jiraiya stood before Naruto, his arms crossed, the Pervy Sage persona shed like a snake's skin. "Alright, brat. You've got the Rasengan down, and your clone usage is getting smarter. But you're using a crutch." He pointed at Naruto. "You need another clone to form the jutsu. Your next step is to master it with one hand. Then, eventually, you'll learn to form one in each hand."
Naruto's eyes widened, the thought of wielding two of the spiraling spheres of destruction making him practically vibrate with excitement.
"And that's not all," Jiraiya continued. "Your wind nature is raw. Untrained. We're going to give it some shape." He held up a single hand sign. "Fūton: Senpū Shuriken (Wind Style: Spiraling Gale Shuriken)!*" He thrust his palm forward, and a spinning, razor-sharp disc of compressed green wind shot out, slicing a deep gash into a nearby tree before dissipating. "It's a start. On its own, it's just a projectile. But with your clones… you can have them add their own wind chakra to it after it's thrown. Make it bigger, faster, or even change its direction mid-flight. It's a technique made for a chaotic brawler like you."
"Awesome! A new super-cool jutsu!" Naruto roared. Without another word, he formed a cross-shaped seal.
POOF!
The clearing was instantly filled with a thousand identical Narutos, a sea of orange and manic energy. "ALRIGHT, LET'S DO THIS!" they all screamed in unison, before scattering across the field like a dropped bag of marbles, a thousand hands already trying to air balloons and form wind shuriken of their own.
Jiraiya watched the maelstrom of his student's training method with a long-suffering sigh before turning his full attention to Hinata. The air around her was a pocket of serene, focused calm amidst the Uzumaki hurricane.
"Hinata," he began, his tone shifting to one of serious respect. "I heard from Kurenai you have two nature affinities. Fire and Lightning. A powerful, if volatile, combination." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I'll be honest with you, my skills with Lightning Release are rudimentary at best. Not my area of expertise. But fire…" A slow, confident grin spread across his face. "Fire, I know. I can teach you a technique that goes beyond just breathing flames. It's about giving that fire a will. A shape."
He went through a rapid series of hand signs, his fingers a blur of practiced motion. He took a deep breath, his chest swelling, and then spat out a massive, cohesive orb of pure, intense flame. In mid-air, the orb erupted, twisting and elongating into the shape of a majestic, roaring dragon that soared through the clearing before slamming into a large boulder, detonating in a cataclysm of heat and concussive force that shook the very ground.
"Katon: Karyū Endan (Fire Release: Fire Dragon Flame Bullet)," Jiraiya said, wiping a bit of soot from his lip. "Think you can handle that?"
Hinata's lilac eyes, which had watched the jutsu with an unnerving intensity, glowed with a soft, silver light. She gave a single, decisive nod.
The clearing became a study in contrasts. On one side, a chaotic army of Narutos yelled, cursed, and occasionally cheered as they brute-forced their way through their lessons, the air filled with the sounds of popping balloons and the whoosh of malformed wind blades. On the other, Hinata stood perfectly still, her eyes closed.
But inside her mind, it was a whirlwind of activity. She was memorizing the hand seals. Venom deconstructing the jutsu into its core biological and physical components. Pulmonary pressure modulation… oral cavity shaping for directional vectoring… the precise mixture of superheated chakra and oxygen… It was a system. A weapon system. And she was already reverse-engineering it, figuring out how to integrate this new, terrifying power into her own. How to spew it not just from her mouth, but from the fanged maw of her Klyntar form. How to shape from the swirling vortex of her Kasen drills.
The orange storm raged. And in the eye of it, the quiet forge burned hotter than ever.
The days settled into a strange, new rhythm, a cycle of gluttony, grit, and growth. Mornings began with a visit to the town's largest diner. Hinata's breakfast was a refueling operation. Mountains of rice, whole platters of grilled fish, bowls of steaming soup—she consumed it all with a quiet, terrifying efficiency that left the restaurant staff in a state of perpetual, slack-jawed awe. Naruto, who could usually out-eat anyone, could only manage about half her intake before tapping out.
The biomass conversion rate is operating at peak efficiency, Venom would hum, a deeply satisfied thrum in the back of her mind as she finished her third helping of pork cutlets. The lipids are reinforcing the myelin sheaths of our nervous system. The proteins are being allocated to increase muscle density. The carbohydrates… are merely fuel for the furnace. It is what we needed.
After the feast, they would train. Jiraiya would vanish on his "information gathering," which Hinata's enhanced senses confirmed usually led him to the local red light district or a secluded spot with a view of the women's hot springs. Naruto, left to his own devices, would detonate into his usual army of a thousand clones, turning their designated clearing into a chaotic festival of effort.
Hinata, in contrast, was a portrait of deadly focus. She was honing the Karyū Endan. The dragon was becoming more defined, its scales sharper, its roar more guttural. She was learning to form itthrough her Klyntar-formed limbs. She would manifest a sleek, black gauntlet, and from its palm, a smaller, faster, more serpentine dragon of white-hot flame would erupt, a guided missile of pure annihilation.
Amidst this focused training, the Naruto clones had become a constant, buzzing, and deeply embarrassing distraction. Her new, powerful form, often glistening with a thin sheen of sweat from the exertion, seemed to act as a magnet for their unfiltered admiration.
"Hey, Hinata-chan! Your arm looks way bigger when you do that fire thing!" one would shout after she incinerated a training log.
"Spar with me!" another would plead, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "I wanna see if I can even move you!"
She would politely decline, but they were persistent. The sheer number of them created a constant, swirling tide of orange and blue around her. And they were getting bolder. A clone, "stumbling" after a failed Rasengan attempt, would steady himself with a hand landing squarely on the powerful curve of her hip. Another, "offering advice" on her stance, would place a hand on her shoulder, his fingers brushing against the strap of her top. They were clumsy, accidental-seeming touches, but their frequency was becoming statistically significant. And her Byakugan, which she kept active to monitor the chaos, would occasionally spot the original Naruto amidst the swarm, his face flushed, attempting the same clumsy "accidental" brush against her thigh, only to chicken out at the last second.
It was mortifying. A deep, persistent blush was a near-permanent fixture on her cheeks. And yet… it wasn't entirely unpleasant.
The pack males are confirming the structural integrity of the chassis, Venom purred, its voice thick with smug amusement. A tactile assessment of our physical superiority. It is a primitive but logical form of tribute. We permit this.
During one particularly intense session, Hinata perfected her newest variation. She formed the dragon's head at the tip of a long, coiling Klyntar tendril, creating a hideous, beautiful chimera of alien flesh and stellar fire that whipped through the air with terrifying speed. She slammed it into a rock formation, and the resulting explosion sent a shockwave across the clearing.
"WHOA! HINATA, YOU'RE GLOWING!"
The shout came from a nearby clone who was supposed to be practicing his wind shuriken. Hinata paused, breathing heavily, and looked down at her own arms. The clone was right. It wasn't a bright, overt light, but a soft, ethereal luminescence. A complex pattern of silvery-white lines pulsed with a gentle, steady light just beneath her skin, a constellation of tiny stars trapped under a veil of flesh, glowing brightly in the aftermath of the massive chakra expenditure. It was beautiful. And it was deeply, fundamentally alien.
"That looks so cool!" the original Naruto yelled, jogging over, his own training forgotten. "It's like you've got lightning trapped in your skin! Is that part of your summon thing?"
She looked at her hands, turning them over, watching the faint, intricate patterns pulse in time with her own heartbeat. They were more pronounced now, more defined than they had been during the exams. The silvery filigree was becoming a feature, a visible proof of the changes happening within her. She would have to check her body again when they got back to Konoha, after finishing this mission. A full-length one. She needed to catalog this.
The thought, clinical and detached, was a strange comfort. She was becoming something new, something other. And while a part of her, the ghost of the shy, timid girl, was terrified by the implications, another, larger part, a part that sounded suspiciously like a purring, ancient predator, was absolutely thrilled.
Darkness fell, and the world cooled. The chaotic din of a thousand Naruto Uzumakis faded, leaving behind a single, exhausted boy and a serene, powerful young woman. They lay side-by-side on a patch of cool grass, the energy of the day's training leaching out of their bodies into the damp earth, their gazes turned upward to the infinite, diamond-dusted stars of the night sky.
This is an inefficient allocation of recovery time, Venom's voice was a low grumble in the quiet of her mind, a complaint born of pure pragmatism. The host's stores are depleted. Our structural reinforcement protocols require a significant caloric surplus. We should be compelling the orange one to honor his promise and acquire more of the high-sugar dango. This horizontal, non-nutritional activity is… illogical.
Hinata quietly ignored him. This quiet, this shared stillness with Naruto, was a different kind of fuel, one her partner could not yet comprehend.
"Look!" Naruto's voice was a hushed whisper of excitement, his finger pointing at a cluster of bright stars. "That one looks like a ramen bowl! See? And that one next to it is the steam coming off it!"
Hinata followed his finger, a soft smile touching her lips. "I see it," she murmured, her own eyes tracing the patterns. She saw the great hunter, the celestial serpent, the queen in her chair, constellations her father had pointed out to her on cold, clear nights long ago. But she saw his ramen bowl, too.
"What do you think they are, really?" Naruto asked, his voice full of genuine, childlike wonder. "The stars. Pervy Sage says they're balls of fire, but that doesn't make sense. Wouldn't they fall down? I bet… I bet they're little holes poked in a big, black blanket, and the light from somewhere else is shining through!"
His goofy speculation was so pure, so utterly Naruto, that she felt a warmth spread through her chest. But before she could agree, Venom, with the cold, unassailable certainty of a being that had drifted between them, offered its own data point. She didn't mean to say it, but the information flowed from her partner's mind to her lips with an unstoppable, clinical precision.
"They are colossal, gravitationally-bound spheres of incandescent plasma," she said, her voice a flat, resonant recitation. "In their cores, they are undergoing a constant process of thermonuclear fusion, converting hydrogen into helium and releasing a tremendous amount of energy in the form of photons and neutrinos, which then travel across the vacuum of space for millions of light-years until they reach our retinas."
The silence that followed was absolute. Naruto slowly lowered his pointing finger. He turned his head to look at her, his face a mask of pure, uncomprehending bafflement.
"Uh… thermo-whatzit?" he blinked, his brain audibly grinding to a halt. "Ph-photons? Hina-chan, what are you talking about?"
She snapped back to herself, a wave of horror washing over her. She'd done it again, spooked him with the alien knowledge rattling around in her head. "Ah! I… That is…" she stammered, scrambling for her cover story. "That is my summon's opinion on the matter. He has… traveled a great deal."
Naruto's dumbfounded expression slowly melted into one of dawning, awestruck understanding. "Whoa," he breathed, looking back up at the sky with new eyes. "Your summon is… really smart."
The next day, Jiraiya returned from his 'research' with a renewed sense of purpose and a fresh lead. Tsunade, he declared, had been spotted heading north, towards a major hub of commerce and vice. Without another word, they packed their meager camp and set off, leaving the small town behind.
As they walked the open road, the sun warm on their backs, Naruto's curiosity got the better of him again. "Hey, Pervy Sage," he asked, jogging to keep up with the Sannin's long strides. "This Tsunade lady… what's she like, anyway? Is she super strong?"
Jiraiya let out a weary sigh, as if recalling a long and painful history. "Strong? Brat, you have no idea. She's the First Hokage's granddaughter, and probably the greatest medic-nin the world has ever seen. They say she can heal any injury without even forming hand signs. And her strength… it's monstrous. She can shatter a mountain with a single punch." He paused, a dark look crossing his face. "She's also got a temper that could scare a demon, a tongue sharp enough to cut steel, and the worst gambling addiction in the history of the Five Great Nations. They call her the Legendary Sucker for a reason."
His gaze then drifted, a familiar, lecherous twinkle returning to his eyes as he glanced back at Hinata. "Of course," he purred, "she is also one of the most beautiful women to ever walk the earth. A figure that could make a statue weep." He gave Hinata a long, appraising look, his grin widening. "Speaking of which, you've got a ways to go, but you're giving her a run for her money in the… bountiful fortune department, Hinata-chan."
Hinata's face exploded into a shade of crimson that put the evening sun to shame. She instinctively crossed her arms over her chest, a futile gesture of modesty. Naruto just blinked dumbly, his head cocked to the side. The comparison had flown completely over his head.
"Huh?" he asked. "What fortune? Did she win a bunch of money like we did?"
Jiraiya just chuckled, shaking his head as they continued their journey.
Several days later, they crested a hill, and a new city sprawled out before them, nestled in a wide, verdant valley. Tanzaku Town. It was bigger, brighter, and louder than the last place, a glittering jewel of commerce and entertainment. The buildings were taller, the banners more vibrant, and the air itself seemed to thrum with the energy of a thousand different possibilities. The scent of dozens of different foods, rich and complex, drifted up to meet them.
Naruto's eyes went wide, a slow, predatory grin spreading across his face. He rubbed his hands together with a dry, rasping sound of pure, mischievous anticipation.
"Whoa," he breathed, his voice full of reverence and glee. "This place… is even better than the last one."
Tanzaku Town was a roaring, chaotic flood. The cacophony of the previous town was a mere whisper compared to the vibrant, overwhelming symphony of life here. Neon signs, powered by crackling elemental crystals, painted the evening in lurid shades of pink, blue, and green, their light glinting off the rain-slicked streets. The air was a thick, complex mix of aromas: the sweet, smoky smell of high-end barbecue, the sharp tang of exotic spices from a dozen different food stalls, and the faint, electric scent of metal bleeding from the open doors of pachinko parlors.
The trio split up, an agreement passing between them. Jiraiya, with a gruff nod, melted into the crowds, his "research" beginning with the town's numerous sake bars and gambling dens. Naruto, a firecracker of pure enthusiasm, immediately began darting from stall to stall, his senses overwhelmed by the sheer variety of everything. And Hinata… Hinata became the eye of the storm.
She found a high vantage point on the roof of a three-story teahouse, the cool night air a welcome relief. Closing her eyes, she let her senses expand, her Byakugan flaring to life behind her closed lids. The city became an ocean of chakra signatures, a chaotic, swirling sea of life that made finding two specific embers a near-impossible task.
The sheer volume of ambient energy signatures is inefficient, Venom noted, its mind a silent, parallel processor, sifting through the data Hinata's eyes were feeding it. We must filter for anomalies. Look for chakra that is either exceptionally old, exceptionally powerful, or expertly concealed.
Days turned into a frustrating pattern. Hinata would scan, Jiraiya would drink, and Naruto would explore. The Sannin would return each evening, reeking of cheap perfume and sake, his leads all dead ends. During one of their debriefings in a grimy noodle shop, Jiraiya's face was uncharacteristically grim.
"There are whispers," he said, his voice low. "Something big happened here a few days before we arrived. A giant serpent, big as a house, tore a section of the outer wall apart. The witnesses say it seemed to be… looking for someone."
"That snake bastard!" Naruto slammed his fist on the table, rattling their bowls. "Orochimaru! He's after her too, isn't he?"
Hinata's mind connected the dots with cold, chilling speed. Orochimaru, Kurenai-sensei described her that during his fight against the Third Hokage, he was heavily wounded. He wouldn't be hunting Tsunade for a fight. He would be hunting her for her skill. He needed the world's greatest medic-nin to heal him. The stakes of their mission had just been raised exponentially.
Frustrated by the lack of progress, Naruto's restless energy found a familiar outlet. "Come on, Hinata-chan!" he declared one evening, grabbing her hand and pulling her towards the glittering facade of a massive, multi-story casino. "We're a lucky team! If Pervy Sage can't find her by asking around, we'll win enough money to just buy the information!"
The scene replayed itself, but on a grander scale. The casino was a palace of polished wood and gleaming gold accents. The dealers were sharper, the stakes were higher, and the air was thick with the scent of real money. And once again, Naruto sat at the table, and Hinata stood behind him, a silent, beautiful, and utterly terrifying totem of luck. The croupiers, men of iron nerve who could stare down a charging bull, found it impossible to maintain their focus with a statuesque goddess of war looming behind their mark, her prodigious chest and wide hips are creating a gravitational field of pure distraction.
They had won a lot. They literally pillaged. The mountain of chips grew into a mountain range. The professional gamblers and high-rollers who had initially sneered at the loud-mouthed kid in the orange jumpsuit were left pale and trembling, their fortunes utterly decimated.
When they finally left, Naruto was cackling with glee, two massive bags of winnings slung over his shoulders. Hinata, blushing furiously but carrying a third bag herself, walked beside him. Jiraiya met them at the entrance, his face a thundercloud. He had just lost a significant portion of his research funds at a different table, only to find his two genin charges had practically bankrupted the establishment through some bizarre, inexplicable synergy of luck and intimidation.
A full week bled by in this pattern of fruitless searching and accidental fortune. Then, one afternoon, as Hinata was performing another wide-range sensory sweep from a rooftop, it happened. It was a biological anomaly, a collection of scents so faint they were practically ghosts on the wind.
Analysis, Venom's thought was a sharp, sudden spike of interest. Faint, residual scent of medical-grade chakra infusion in the ambient air, concentration 0.001%. Unique protein signature consistent with porcine dander. And… the subtle, almost undetectable ester compounds of a high-quality, expensive brand of sake. All originating from that street. Fourth building on the left.
Hinata's eyes snapped open, her Byakugan focusing with pinpoint precision on the location Venom had identified. She pushed past the surface noise, searching for the dampened embers they'd been hunting. And there. Two faint, almost imperceptible sparks of chakra, expertly suppressed to the level of a common civilian. And next to them, a third, smaller, brighter spark—simple, uncomplicated, and distinctly non-human. A pig.
A shared thought of absolute understanding passed between her and her partner. The search was over.
She found Jiraiya and Naruto a few minutes later. A single, pointed look was all it took. The Sannin's lazy demeanor vanished, replaced by the focused, coiled tension of a predator. Naruto's goofy grin was wiped away, his expression hardening into one of serious resolve.
They moved as one, a silent, deadly unit, weaving through the crowded streets. The building was a high-end restaurant, its entrance marked by a serene rock garden and the quiet scent of grilled fish and fine sake.
Jiraiya went first, pushing aside the Noren curtains. He stepped inside, his eyes, no longer those of a bumbling fool but of a Legendary Sannin, scanning the room. Naruto and Hinata flanked him, their own senses on high alert.
The room was quiet, filled with wealthy merchants and off-duty shinobi enjoying a late lunch. Their gazes swept past the patrons until they landed on a woman sitting alone at a table by the window, a small, pink pig in a pearl necklace sleeping contentedly in her lap. She was beautiful, with long, straight blonde hair tied in two low ponytails, and a formidable presence that even her civilian clothes couldn't conceal. A familiar green haori was draped over the back of her chair.
She looked up, her brown eyes, sharp and intelligent, seeming to sense their presence. Her gaze passed over Naruto, over Hinata, and then locked with Jiraiya's.
Recognition dawned. Shock. And a wave of ancient, complicated history washed over them both.
"TSUNADE!" Jiraiya's voice was a shocked, disbelieving roar.
The woman's eyes widened, her composure shattering. "JIRAIYA?!"