For the first two days after the mission in the Land of Rice Fields, Hinata found herself adrift in a sea of unaccustomed peace. The constant, low-grade hum of tactical readiness that had become her new normal was gone, replaced by the quiet rhythm of a village. Her first act of personal liberation was to take the snug, constricting Chuunin vest, a symbol of a rank she felt she had already outgrown, and fold it with fellings of finality. She placed it on a shelf in her armoire, as a relic of a time before. It had been an honor to earn, but a prison to wear.
Her body, a canvas the symbiote was perpetually repainting, demanded a new frame. The standard-issue gear was no longer an option. This led her to a dusty, smoke-filled forge on the outskirts of the village, a place that smelled of hot steel, quenching oil, and generations of hard work. The armorer was a man as old and solid as the anvil he stood beside.
"Hyuuga-sama," he grunted, his voice like stones grinding together. "An honor. What can I do for you?"
Hinata, standing a full head taller than him, laid out her needs with a quiet, direct authority that had become second nature. She required a full combat chassis. Not the decorative chest plates some kunoichi favored, but a functional, articulated suit of armor.
The armorer's professional stoicism remained intact as he produced a heavy measuring tape. He started at her shoulders, his eyebrows twitching almost imperceptibly at their breadth. He moved to her chest, wrapping the tape around her back and across the impossible swell of her bust. He paused, re-read the number, and measured again, his grunt a little more strained this time. He measured her impossibly narrow waist, the powerful flare of her hips. When he was done, he stepped back, wiping a hand across his sweaty brow.
"I see," he said, the words heavy with unspoken astonishment. "Standard patterns will not suffice." He gestured to a series of leather mannequins displaying his work.
Inferior craftsmanship, Venom hummed in her mind, a low thrum of disdain. The pauldrons lack adequate articulation for multi-vector striking. The chest plate is designed for aesthetic, not kinetic dispersion. The gorget offers insufficient protection against piercing attacks. All are unacceptable.
"It needs to allow for… unconventional flexibility," Hinata translated, her own voice carrying that subtle, doubled resonance. "And it must be able to withstand both extreme kinetic force and high-grade elemental jutsu."
The armorer's eyes narrowed, not with skepticism, but with the dawning, greedy light of a master craftsman facing a true challenge. "This… will require a custom forge. And materials I haven't used since the last Great War. It will take time. Weeks. Maybe months. And it will cost you… a great deal."
"The cost is irrelevant," Hinata stated, her voice dropping into the commanding baritone she used for ultimatums. "The quality is not."
The armorer gave a sharp, satisfied nod. A contract was forged in that moment, more binding than any ink on paper.
With that settled, the rest of her vacation became a blur of simple, grounding rituals. She met with Kurenai-sensei, whose pride was a tangible warmth that soothed parts of her she didn't know were still frayed. She sparred with Kiba, their sessions now a breathtaking dance of his feral speed against her impossible, fluid grace. She had tea with Shino, their conversations a comfortable exchange of logical observations and quiet understanding.
And she ate.
She moved through the recovering village like a serene, beautiful storm. Her casual attire, a simple, form-fitting black turtleneck that clung to every curve of her torso and dark grey shinobi pants that hugged her powerful thighs and hips, did little to conceal the startling reality of her physique. She was a living legend now, the "Lightning Princess," the "Hyuuga's Monster." Men stared, their gazes a mixture of lust and primal fear. Women watched with open envy and a confusing, undeniable flicker of admiration. Hinata felt their eyes on her like a physical touch, but it no longer made her shrink. It was simply a fact of her existence, a constant, low-level hum of acknowledgment that she was no longer invisible. She would "raid" the dango shop, calmly consuming a dozen skewers. She would empty the Yakiniku Q, leaving the grill masters sweating and a mountain of empty plates in her wake. She found the best bakery and bought out their entire stock of dark chocolate tortes, much to Venom's purring, ecstatic delight.
It was on the third day of her vacation, as she was leaving the bakery with two large boxes, that she heard his voice.
"Hinata! Hey, wait up!"
The voice lacked its usual booming, chaotic energy. It was strained, subdued. She turned, and there he was, running towards her, his bright orange jumpsuit a beacon in the bustling street. He skidded to a halt in front of her, and for a split second, his blue eyes widened as they did a quick, involuntary scan of her body. Up, down, lingering for a second longer than necessary on the swell of her chest beneath the black fabric. A deep, furious blush immediately colored his whiskered cheeks.
"Uh… hi," he stammered, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Hello, Naruto-kun," she replied, her voice a low, melodic hum. She saw the blush, of course. She saw everything. "Is something wrong?"
"No! I mean, yeah. Kinda," he said, his gaze darting around as if worried someone was listening. "Look, can we… can we talk? Somewhere… private?"
The request was so out of character, so unlike the boy who shouted his every thought and feeling from the rooftops, that it surprised her. She simply nodded. In a synchronized, silent flash of movement, they both vanished from the street, reappearing a moment later on the edge of a high rooftop overlooking the village and the distant, solemn faces of the Hokage monument.
The usual easy energy between them was gone, replaced by a tense, heavy silence. Naruto didn't speak. He just stood at the edge, his hands shoved in his pockets, staring out at the sprawling village below. The wind tugged at his jacket, making him seem small and terribly alone.
Hinata waited, giving him the space he clearly needed. But after a full minute of his troubled silence, she took a step closer.
"You are troubled," she stated, not as a question, but as a fact her senses had already confirmed. "I can feel it. What has happened?"
He took a deep, shuddering breath, his shoulders slumping. He didn't look at her, his eyes fixed on the stone face of the Third Hokage.
"I… Pervy Sage and I… we're leaving the village," he said, his voice quiet and rough. "For a while."
The words hung in the air between them, sharp and cold. A while?
He finally turned to face her, his blue eyes filled with a storm of emotions she couldn't quite decipher. Fear. Resolve. And a profound, aching sadness.
"We're going to be gone for two years, Hinata. On a training trip."
The words landed with a crushing weight, yet she maintained her composure. The bustling sounds of the village below seemed to fade into a distant roar, the world narrowing to the space between them on the sun-warmed tiles. Two years. An eternity. An acceptable training period. A chasm.
"Does… anyone else know?" Hinata's own voice was a soft whisper, the resonant echo of her partner strangely absent, leaving her feeling small and terribly human for a moment.
"Just you," Naruto admitted, his gaze falling back to the village streets. "And Kakashi-sensei and Granny Tsunade. I… I'm telling everyone else later today. Pervy Sage just dropped it on me last night."
An awkward, heavy silence descended, thick enough to choke on. It was filled with everything unsaid: the missions they wouldn't share, the ramen they wouldn't eat, the two years of growth that would happen long distances apart.
Naruto broke it first, of course. His silence was never a comfortable thing. He slammed a fist into his palm, a familiar, explosive sound that shattered the tension. A wide, ferocious grin split his face, chasing the sadness from his eyes and replacing it with pure, incandescent fire.
"But it's gonna be worth it!" he declared, his voice booming with renewed conviction. "I'm gonna get so strong, you won't even recognize me! We're gonna find that snake-freak Orochimaru and kick his ass back to whatever hole he crawled out of! And I'm gonna find Sasuke and beat his stupid face again! And those Akatsuki bastards… they won't know what hit 'em!"
A genuine, warm smile bloomed on Hinata's face. This was the Naruto she knew. The storm. The sun. The unstoppable force of nature.
He saw her smile, and something in his expression shifted. The grin became sharper, less about reassurance and more about a challenge. His blue eyes locked onto hers, burning with a new kind of competitive fire she'd never seen directed at her before.
"And you!" he shouted, pointing a finger at her chest. "I'm gonna get strong enough to beat you, too! You and that creepy-cool summon of yours! Just you wait!"
Unacceptable. The voice of Venom was a cold, sharp spike of outrage in her mind. The primary male partner implies he will usurp our position as the pack's leader. This transgression cannot stand. He must be reminded of the established hierarchy. Assert your dominance. Now.
A giggle escaped Hinata's lips, a sound of pure delight. The thought was absurd. Dominance. Hierarchy. And yet… there was a sliver of truth to it. This wasn't the boy who used to look right through her. This was a rival. An equal. A person who saw her as a mountain to be climbed. He was admiring her. The realization sent a wave of such profound, soaring happiness through her that she felt light-headed. She was so, so glad she had found this strange, hungry creature in the woods all those months ago.
Our meeting was… fortuitous, Venom conceded, a low purr of smug satisfaction.
That combination of feelings—the alien's territorial pride, her own blossoming confidence, the sheer joy of being seen by him, pushed the vestiges of the shy, timid girl into a distant corner. A new, more primal version of herself flowed forward to take the reins.
"Oh?" she purred, the sound a low, doubled harmony that made the air between them vibrate. "You can certainly try, Naruto-kun."
With a deliberate, fluid grace, she let the two boxes of chocolates slip from her fingers, forgotten. They landed on the rooftop tiles with a soft thud. She flowed towards him, closing the distance between them until she had completely shattered the bubble of his personal space.
Naruto's challenging grin wavered, then faltered, replaced by a wide-eyed, excited shock. He hadn't moved, and now he was completely enveloped in her shadow, his nose level with the generous swell of her breasts. He had to crane his neck to look up into her face, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. In the shimmering pools of his eyes, she could see her own reflection, and more. Her enhanced senses, a perfect fusion of Hyuuga sight and Klyntar perception, read the sudden spike in his heart rate, the heat flushing his skin, the minute dilation of his pupils. He was anticipating.
Her hands came up, cupping his whiskered cheeks with a tenderness that was at odds with the predatory gleam in her eyes. This time, the kiss wasn't a claim born of battle-high adrenaline. It was deliberate. Slower. Deeper. A promise and a challenge all at once. For a moment, it was just the soft, warm pressure of her lips against his.
Then, she used his distraction.
Her tongue, unnaturally long and impossibly deft, slipped past his lips before his brain could even process the intrusion. It was not a human tongue. It was a serpent of smooth, powerful muscle, and it wrapped around his own with a possessive, confident grace. He felt a jolt, a full-body shock that was something far more alien, as she began to gently, rhythmically stroke the length of his tongue with her own.
A strangled gasp escaped his throat, and his hands flew up, to desperately cling to the curve of her hips for balance. His entire body sagged against hers, his face pressing into the warm, soft valley of her cleavage as his mind went blissfully, completely blank. He was drowning in her, again, in the scent of her skin, in the taste of her mouth, in the impossible sensation that was short-circuiting his entire nervous system.
After a long, breathless moment that could have been an eternity, she pulled back, releasing him. She held his face in her hands, watching with a satisfied smile as his dazed, unfocused eyes struggled to find her. He was utterly dreamy, his breath coming in ragged pants, a thin line of saliva connecting their lips.
"You will have to train very, very hard to beat me, Naruto-kun," she whispered, her voice a soft, hypnotic purr.
It took him a moment. His brain felt like it was rebooting, the world swimming back into focus. He blinked, shaking his head to clear the stars from his vision. He looked up at her, at the powerful, beautiful woman who had just so thoroughly and completely dominated him, and a familiar, unbreakable fire reignited in his blue eyes.
He took a deep, shuddering breath and managed a shaky, but resolute, grin.
"I… I will! Believe It!"
Naruto stumbled back, his hands flailing for a moment before he found his balance. He looked like a man who had just touched a live wire and found the experience both terrifying and addictive. "I-I gotta... I gotta go tell the others," he stammered, his usual confidence completely short-circuited. "The old man, Karin, Sakura... everyone."
"Of course," Hinata replied, her voice soft now, the predatory resonance having receded, leaving only a gentle warmth.
I'll... uh... we'll be at the gate at the evening," he managed, taking another step back as if to escape the gravitational pull of her presence. "To say... you know. Bye." He didn't wait for a response. He just turned and scrambled away, leaping off the rooftop and disappearing into the maze of streets below in a flash of orange and panicked energy.
Hinata watched him go, a slow, satisfied smile on her lips. Then, as the adrenaline of the moment faded, the familiar heat of a blush began to creep up her neck, spreading across her cheeks. The shy girl she used to be was reasserting herself, peering out from behind the confident predator and looking at the scene with wide-eyed horror and a secret, fluttering thrill. Deep within her, Venom was calm, a sated beast digesting a particularly satisfying meal. That had been… bold. Terribly, wonderfully, intoxicatingly bold.
She stooped down and picked up the two boxes of chocolates, her movements still graceful but now tinged with a newfound self-consciousness. The walk back to the Hyuuga compound was a long one, giving her far too much time to think.
Two years. It was a good decision. A strategic necessity. She had seen firsthand what a single month of focused training under a Sannin could do for Naruto. He had gone from a clumsy, if determined, brawler to a chuunin capable of formulating and executing complex strategies, of wielding an S-rank jutsu. Two years of that? He would return a force to be reckoned with, a weapon forged in the fires of a master's tutelage. It was an investment in the future, and the future looked increasingly dark.
They would need him to be strong. They would all need to be stronger. Orochimaru was still out there, a serpent coiling in the shadows, and now he had his prize. Sasuke was gone, his brilliant potential being twisted and poisoned into a tool for another's ambition. And the serpent was not a solitary predator. He had his followers. Like those Sound nin like Tayuya, that were sent to take Sasuke. The memory of the monstrous, corrupted ninja in the Land of Rice Fields was still a cold knot in her stomach.
And then there were the others. The Akatsuki. The men in black cloaks with red clouds, shadows on the edge of the world who moved with the silent confidence of gods. They had a specific, terrifying interest in Naruto, and that made them the single greatest threat on the board.
She had spent hours in the Konoha Archive after she returned to Konoha with Tsunade. She made some investigations about Itachi and Kisame, cross-referencing mission reports and bingo book entries. The information she'd found had been sobering. Itachi Uchiha. A prodigy who had made Chuunin at ten, an ANBU captain at thirteen. Younger than she was now. A man who had single-handedly slaughtered his entire clan, a feat so monstrous it bordered on the divine. The encounter in that inn hadn't been a victory. It had been a freak occurrence, a one-in-a-billion biological incompatibility.
His genjutsu attempted to overwrite our neural pathways with a crude, external program, Venom clarified internally, a cool stream of logic. Our unified consciousness registered it as an invasive pathogen and triggered an aggressive immune response. An allergic reaction, of a sort. He will not make the same mistake twice.
And his partner, Kisame Hoshigaki, the Monster of the Hidden Mist. His file was less a report and more a litany of atrocities. A walking butchery who wielded a living, chakra-eating sword. She had caught him off guard, a blindsiding blow that had capitalized on his momentary surprise. In a straight fight, the outcome would have been far from certain. Those two were only one pair. The organization had others, all of them S-rank missing-nin.
Yes. Naruto needed this training trip. He needed to become the hammer that could shatter mountains. Because the mountains were coming for him.
Lost in her thoughts, she found herself at the gates of the Hyuuga compound. The guards bowed deeply as she passed, their respect a palpable thing. She walked through the serene, meticulously kept courtyards, a fortress of quiet tradition that felt a world away from the blood and chaos she now knew so well.
She entered her room, the silence a welcome embrace. The two boxes of chocolates were placed carefully on her low table. Her eyes drifted to her own reflection in the polished wood. She saw a warrior staring back, a woman forged in conflict, a monster in the skin of a goddess. She needed to wash away the weight of the day, the weight of the future. She needed the cleansing ritual of a long, hot bath.
The water in the large, deep tub rose precariously close to the lacquered wooden rim as Hinata submerged her frame. Her powerful, sculpted body, now taller and significantly more muscular than any Hyuuga woman in recent history, displaced an impressive volume. Steam ghosted across the surface, caressing the faint, silvery-white patterns that bloomed across her skin. The heat was a pleasant sensation, a grounding force against the cold, analytical spiral of her thoughts.
Her mind of Hyuuga discipline and enhanced by Klyntar logic as a co-processor, was chewing on the problem of the Akatsuki. It was a puzzle with too many pieces that refused to fit. The individuals were terrifying enough. But the organization… the organization was an anomaly. A statistical impossibility.
Jiraiya had told them Orochimaru was once a member. She had faced Itachi and Kisame. They were forces of nature, apex predators at the absolute pinnacle of the shinobi food chain. Men like that, driven by monstrous ambition and power, did not cooperate. They vied for supremacy. They should have been at each other's throats, carving out their own bloody territories across the Elemental Nations. A pride of hostile lions that had somehow agreed not to eat each other. Why?
What could an organization possibly offer them that they couldn't simply take for themselves?
Money? The thought was absurd. A man like Kisame could hold a Daimyo's port hostage for a king's ransom. A whisper from Itachi could make the wealthiest merchant sign over his entire fortune. They were the kind of men who didn't earn money, they were the reason money moved.
Power, then? That was even more ludicrous. Power was something that flocked to them. Orochimaru hadn't sought power in the Land of Rice Fields, he had become the power, and the clans and feudal lords had knelt before him, begging for a taste. Men like that didn't join a team to become stronger. They were the reason teams were formed in the first place, to try and stop them.
Their motivations, their very natures, were a mix of contradictory aspirations. There could be no camaraderie between such creatures, no shared vision that could bind a sociopathic butcher like Kisame to a cold, calculating prodigy like Itachi. It defied all logic.
Unless… they were not partners. Unless they were leashed.
The thought was a sliver of ice in the warm water. It was the only explanation that fit the dissonant facts. They were not a council of equals. They were a stable of attack dogs, each one a ferocious, legendary beast, all held by a single, unseen master.
But that… that was a far more terrifying prospect. To force men of that caliber to comply, to heel, to obey orders that sent them prowling across the continent on another's errand… what kind of being possessed that sort of power? This leader, or these leaders, must be so confident in their absolute control that they could allow their S-rank assets to roam freely, knowing they could be recalled or disciplined at a moment's notice. The logistics were staggering.
Long-range communication and control are not unprecedented, Venom offered, its voice a cool current of logic in the warm bath of her thoughts. The Sannin Jiraiya utilizes his toad summons as a rudimentary communications network. It is inefficient, requiring physical couriers for complex messages, but the principle is sound.
Hinata mulled that over. A network of summons could explain it, but it felt… clumsy. Too slow for the kind of absolute, real-time control that would be necessary.
The Toad Sage's method is primitive, Venom continued, as if sensing her doubt. It relies on a third-party biological entity. A more advanced system would be integrated. A psionic link. A hive-mind consciousness broadcast across vast distances. Or perhaps… something even more fundamental. A power that allows the master to be in many places at once, a web woven from chakra itself where every tremor is felt by the spider at its center.
The steam in the room suddenly felt cold. A spider. A web stretched across the entire world, and the Akatsuki were merely the venomous dewdrops caught upon its strands, trembling with the will of the one who spun it. Who could possibly command such a thing?
Her thoughts went further, circling the problem from a new angle. A master powerful enough to leash such beasts was one thing. But a leash chafes. Constant force breeds rebellion, even in the most cowed of creatures. There had to be another component. There had to be a carrot to go with the stick.
And that led her to a conclusion that was, at first, almost funny. Protection.
The idea of S-rank missing-nin needing protection was laughable on its face. They were the threat. And yet… the more she considered it, the more a chilling logic began to form. Being a name in a Bingo Book was a mark of prestige, but it was also a death sentence with a price tag. Every ambitious bounty hunter, every jounin looking to make a name, every village with a grudge would be hunting them. They could never truly rest. They were apex predators, yes, but even the greatest wolf must sleep. Akatsuki, with its vast, shadowy infrastructure, could offer them something they could never achieve alone: sanctuary. A network of secure safe houses. A place to count their blood-money. A moment's peace from a world that wanted them dead or in a cage.
That was the carrot. The promise of security, a kennel for the wolves when they weren't on the hunt. But to provide that kind of security on a continental scale… that required immense resources. An intelligence network to rival Konoha's own ANBU, logistical support to move assets and supplies unseen, and the political clout to make certain borders porous. This wasn't the work of a single powerful individual, no matter how strong. This was the work of a government. It required a nation-state level of power.
A Kage.
The thought settled, cold and heavy. A Kage had to be involved. But which one?
Not Konoha, obviously. They were the primary target.
Not Suna. Their Kazekage had been assassinated by Orochimaru, a then-member of the organization. They were victims, their leadership in shambles.
That left the other three Great Villages. Kiri, the Village Hidden in the Mist. Iwa, the Village Hidden by Stone. Kumo, the Village Hidden in the Clouds. All of them possessed the necessary resources. The military might, the intelligence apparatus, the political will of a Daimyo. But the logic fractured again as soon as she applied the individuals.
Would Kiri, the village Kisame had betrayed so violently, truly harbor him? It was unthinkable. There is also words that Kiri is being ravaged by civil war. Would Iwa or Kumo, villages with long and bloody histories with Konoha, risk a clandestine alliance with a monster like Itachi Uchiha? It would be political suicide. Any intelligence network worth its salt, Jiraiya's, Konoha's, even another village's, would eventually uncover an operation of that magnitude. The fallout would trigger another Great War. It simply didn't add up.
She let her head fall back against the smooth, cool porcelain of the tub, her eyes closing. The steam swirled around her, obscuring the ceiling. She could feel the deep, utterly untroubled hum of Venom inside her, a creature content with a full belly and a strong host, unburdened by the labyrinthine politics of the human world.
Maybe she was overthinking it. Maybe the answer was simpler, or perhaps, more terrifyingly complex than she could ever imagine with the pieces she currently held. For now, the path of logic had led her to a sheer, unscalable cliff face.
She let out a long, slow breath, letting the steam cloud her thoughts for a moment, the warmth of the water a temporary reprieve from the cold, hard questions that had no answers.
Minutes passed, the water slowly cooling around her. Her thoughts, however, refused to cool. Having dismissed the Great Five Villages as unlikely candidates, her mind, a relentless search engine, turned to the periphery. The smaller nations. The lesser powers.
It was a weak line of inquiry. Her encounters with shinobi from these villages had been… unimpressive. The Sound Village was just Orochimaru's personal kennel, a collection of broken tools and desperate experiments. She and her friends had dismantled their assets with brutal efficiency. The Grass Village, based on what Naruto had relayed from Karin's experiences, was a place of weakness and exploitation, not a seat of clandestine power capable of controlling the world's most dangerous criminals.
And then there was the Rain. Amegakure.
Naruto had fought their genin on his mission to the Land of Tea. He'd mentioned they were fanatical, almost unhinged. He said their leader, the one he had fought, had rambled on about their allegiance to some kind of… god.
Her mind, which had been drifting, suddenly snapped into sharp focus. A god?
It was easy to dismiss. The ravings of a zealot, a madman clinging to a delusion to justify his actions. Naruto himself had said the Rain-nin was crazy. But what if it wasn't just a metaphor? What if, buried beneath the fanaticism, there was a kernel of truth? The leader of Akatsuki, whoever he was, would certainly seem like a god to his followers.
Her thoughts raced, sifting through the encyclopedic knowledge of legendary shinobi she had committed to memory. Famous ninja from Amegakure. There was one name that stood above all others, a name spoken in the same breath as the Sannin, a name that commanded respect and fear across the entire continent.
Hanzō of the Salamander.
He was a legend. A ghost. A man who had fought Jiraiya, Tsunade, and Orochimaru to a standstill in their prime. His power was undisputed. And his village… Amegakure was a fortress. A perpetually weeping nation, caught between the grinding ambitions of the Great Five, its lands a constant battlefield for their wars. It was notoriously isolated, its borders sealed, its internal affairs a complete mystery to the outside world.
From that perspective, it was a terrifyingly appealing theory. A motive: a deep, festering grudge against the great powers that had used their home as a chessboard. A leader: a shinobi of legendary, almost mythical power. And the resources: an entire hidden village, mobilized for a single, secret purpose, operating from the perfect sanctuary of a closed-off nation.
It fit. It fit disturbingly well.
But it was still just that. A theory. A house of cards built on conjecture, inference, and the ramblings of a single dead fanatic. She had no proof. No tangible evidence. Nothing but a string of possibilities that, when woven together, created a picture of horrifying potential.
A weary sigh escaped her lips, the sound echoing softly in the steam-filled room. Her eyes were still closed, the warm, satisfied hum of Venom a comforting presence in the back of her mind. Maybe she was digging too deep, chasing shadows when the truth was something far simpler.
She gave a small, humorless chuckle. Maybe this was all just being organized by some kind of crazy alien from outer space, softening up the planet's defenses in preparation for a full-scale invasion.
Well, she thought, a wry smile touching her lips as she sank a little deeper into the water. She did have Venom, who was, quite literally, an alien from outer space. So perhaps that theory wasn't so far-fetched after all.
The warm, amber light of twilight bled across the sky, painting the underside of the clouds in hues of orange and deep violet. It was the hour of departures, and the great main gate of Konoha stood silent. A small crowd had gathered, a collection of bright, hopeful, and worried faces, all orbiting a single, boisterous sun.
Hinata stood slightly apart from the main throng, a silent pillar of lavender and black, watching the scene unfold with the enhanced clarity her senses provided. Konohamaru and his little corps had already had their tearful, snot-nosed farewell, a chaotic whirlwind of shouted promises and grand challenges that had left Naruto looking both exasperated and deeply touched. Now, he was navigating the more complex currents of his own generation.
She saw Karin and Sakura standing side-by-side, an unlikely pair united in this moment. Sakura, ever the pragmatist, was giving Naruto a clipped, almost clinical lecture on basic field medicine and the importance of changing his socks, but her knuckles were white where she gripped her own elbows, her facade of stoicism paper-thin. Karin was less reserved, her expression a mixture of worry and genuine admiration. When she spoke, her voice was uncharacteristically soft, and Hinata could see the shimmer of unshed tears in her eyes. Naruto, for his part, listened to them both with a rare, quiet seriousness, offering a solemn nod that seemed to weigh more than his usual boisterous declarations.
The pack's primary medic and sensory specialist are demonstrating appropriate distress at the temporary departure of the secondary leader, Venom observed coolly from the quiet recesses of her mind. A predictable, emotional response. Their ocular fluid levels are elevated.
Team Asuma was next. Choji, bless his gentle heart, had pressed a bag filled with his clan's special nutrient-dense soldier pills into Naruto's hands, a gift of pure, uncomplicated friendship. Ino, with her usual flair for the dramatic, flicked Naruto's forehead and told him not to come back looking like a "hairy, toad-smelling hermit," a teasing barb that was softened by the genuine warmth in her smile. Shikamaru simply gave a lazy wave and a quiet, "Try not to be too troublesome, Naruto. Good luck." It was, for Shikamaru, the equivalent of a heartfelt, poetic ode.
Then came Team Guy. Lee, his eyes burning with a passionate, competitive fire, met Naruto's fist-bump with enough force to crack stone. "Our rivalry will burn even brighter across the distance, my friend! I will perform one thousand push-ups in your honor every single day!" Tenten stood beside him, her usual scrolls replaced by the grim, beautiful forms of the Kiba blades, strapped securely to her back. The twin swords seemed to have become a part of her, an extension of her very being.
"Whoa, Tenten, you really love those things, huh?" Naruto said with a grin. "You gonna sleep with 'em, too?"
Tenten's cheeks flushed a delightful shade of pink, but she patted the hilts with fierce pride. "A true weapon-mistress never parts with her finest tools. You just be careful, Naruto. And bring me back something shiny."
Neji was the biggest surprise. He approached Naruto not with the arrogance of their past, but with the quiet respect of a fellow warrior. There were no grand speeches. Just a firm, brief handshake, a meeting of eyes—one pair brilliant blue, the other pale, knowing lavender, and a single, curt nod. "Be safe, Uzumaki." It was more than enough.
And finally, her own pack. Shino offered a logical, if heartfelt, farewell. "I have calculated the probability of your success on this training venture. With Jiraiya-sama as your guide, the statistical outcome is… favorable. Do not deviate from the logical path." Kiba, however, was all boyish bluster and barely-contained energy. He slammed his shoulder into Naruto's with a loud thump.
"Don't you dare let me surpass you while you're gone, you hear me, loser?!" he barked, a wide, challenging grin on his face. Akamaru echoed the sentiment with a sharp, happy yip from atop his head.
Naruto laughed, shoving him back with equal force. "In your dreams, dog-breath!"
The ritual was complete. Naruto's gaze swept over the crowd one last time, and then it found her. Hinata. He took a breath, and with the heavy, reluctant steps of a boy heading for his final exam, he walked towards her, leaving the others behind. The small crowd gave them a respectful berth, a silent acknowledgment that this goodbye was different.
He wanted to be cool. She could see it in the way he squared his shoulders and tried to plaster a boastful grin on his face. But it was a complete failure. The memory of their last encounter on the rooftop hung in the air between them, a palpable, shimmering thing. A deep, persistent blush crept up his neck, warring with his tanned skin. His eyes couldn't quite meet hers, darting from her chin to a point just over her shoulder.
"So… uh… guess this is it," he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck in that familiar, flustered gesture.
"It is," she replied softly, her voice a gentle, resonant hum that seemed to calm the frantic energy radiating from him.
He fumbled with the pouch at his hip, his movements clumsy and uncoordinated. He was trying to be subtle, but to her, his every motion was as loud as a declaration. He pulled out a small, worn, single metal key on a simple ring. It was his house key.
"Hey, uh…" he began, his voice barely a whisper as he held it out, not looking at her but at the ground. "Could you… could you hold onto these for me? Just… you know. In case." He quickly added, "I gave Karin a spare too, just in case, you know, for watering the plants and stuff."
The male offers a key to the primary nest, Venom purred, a low thrum of deep satisfaction. A formal transfer of territorial access. He acknowledges our position as the primary mate of the pack. An appropriate gesture of fealty. Accept it.
Hinata's hand closed around the key. The metal was cool against her skin, but it felt like it was burning with the weight of his trust. This wasn't about watering plants. This was him giving her a piece of his life, a place to return to. She curled her fingers around it, a silent, binding promise.
"Of course, Naruto-kun," she said, her voice steady and clear, a rock in the turbulent sea of his emotions. "I will keep it safe."
"Naruto! Let's go! Daylight's burning!" Jiraiya's voice boomed from down the road, breaking the fragile spell between them.
Naruto jumped as if electrocuted. "Right! Coming, Pervy Sage!" He turned back to Hinata, his face a mess of conflicting emotions. "I'll… uh… I'll try to write! If I can find a pen! And paper! And stuff! Bye!"
And then he was gone. He turned and ran, a flash of orange and sunlight, not once looking back. He joined the tall, white-haired Sannin at the bend in the road, and together, the two figures, one large and one small, walked away from Konoha, shrinking with the distance until the setting sun swallowed them whole.
The little crowd at the gate lingered for a moment, a collection of quiet goodbyes and silent waves. Then, one by one, they began to turn away, drawn back into the warm, familiar embrace of the village. The chatter started up again, a murmur of plans for dinner and training tomorrow, the ordinary rhythm of life reasserting itself.
Soon, only one figure remained.
Hinata stood unmoving, a silent sentinel at the gates of the world she knew, her gaze fixed on the empty road where he had disappeared. The evening breeze tugged at the long strands of her hime-cut hair, but she didn't seem to notice. Her hand was closed tightly around the small, cool weight of the key, a tangible anchor in the sudden, vast emptiness that had opened up before her. He was gone. And she had two years to become strong enough to stand beside him when he returned.
The wind, now cooler as the last vestiges of daylight surrendered to the encroaching night, whispered around her, tugging at the long, dark strands of her hair. It was a lonely sound. She stood there, a solitary statue at the edge of the world, feeling the cool weight of the key in her palm and the low, constant, purring hum of Venom beneath her skin. The gate was empty now. The road was empty. The world felt vast and quiet.
The silence was finally broken, but by the familiar, cold current of logic in her mind.
The primary male partner has embarked upon his designated training cycle, Venom stated, the thought a smooth, polished stone in the turbulent river of her emotions. This is an optimal development. His potential requires significant refinement to achieve combat effectiveness. His desire to grow stronger is… acceptable. A pause, and then the mental equivalent of a low, dangerous hiss. However. He directly implied his intent to challenge our supremacy. This remains… unacceptable.
A single, perfectly sculpted eyebrow rose on Hinata's face. She had a distinct memory of this exact sentiment being expressed mere hours ago. Venom, it seemed, could hold a grudge with the unyielding tenacity of a tectonic plate.
Our own evolution must not stagnate, the symbiote continued, ignoring her silent critique. The fusion is incomplete. There is more potential to unlock. More power to be refined. Our physical and energetic parameters can be pushed further. This will require a significant and sustained increase in high-quality biomass intake.
A delicate way of saying they needed to eat. A lot.
The threats we have catalogued, the serpent Orochimaru, the Akatsuki collective, are formidable. They are agents of chaos. There are undoubtedly more, unknown variables that will reveal themselves. The chaos they generate is a threat to the stability of our nest. To our pack. It is… unacceptable.
Hinata let out a slow, quiet breath. He was right, of course. In his cold, predatory, and brutally logical way, he was absolutely right.
"I agree," she murmured, her own voice a soft echo in the twilight. They had work to do. So much work to do.
Her mind, began to catalogue the deficiencies, the near-misses, the tactical blind spots revealed by her recent missions. The Land of Rice Fields. Trapped in those subterranean corridors, her most devastating large-scale fire and lightning jutsus had been rendered unusable. The risk of collapse, of friendly fire, of simple self-immolation in a confined space, was too great. It was a glaring weakness. She had an arsenal of siege cannons but had been forced to fight with a knife. She needed more tools. Subtler tools. Earth Style, for defense and control. Water Style, for its versatility. She didn't possess the natural affinities, which would make mastery a far more arduous and chakra-intensive process. But her mind, her Klyntar-enhanced, symbiote-integrated mind, could bear the cognitive load. It could deconstruct the jutsu, analyze the chakra molding, and find the efficiencies that a normal shinobi would take years to discover.
Then there was the mission in Oishida, with Team 10. The memory of the plasma she had created, a furious, incandescent fusion of her fire and lightning, was a tantalizing glimpse of a whole new dimension of power. Venom had called it plasma. A fourth state of matter. A power that didn't just burn or shock. It can disintegrate. It was a raw, untamed thing, born of desperation. It needed to be controlled. Weaponized. Perfected.
And the curse mark. She had seen it on Sasuke, on Kimimaro, on the mindless monsters in the mines. A crude, chaotic, self-destructive brand of power. A parasite that consumed its host. And yet… there was something there. A principle. The ability to draw power from the world itself, to siphon natural energy and convert it into raw strength. Orochimaru's methods were grotesque, an abomination. But the theory… the theory had potential. It was a path that warranted investigation. A consultation with the Klyntar hive-mind was in order. She would have to find a time to attempt the reverse summoning again, now that she understood the process.
The resources were not an issue. The mountain of ryo she and Naruto had… acquired… was tucked away safely in a sealed scroll in her room. And Naruto's little list of "financially challenged" shinobi, his 'Jutsu Market', was a brilliant, if unorthodox, solution for rapid skill acquisition. It had worked with Anko, perhaps too well. The memory of Tayuya's blissfully unconscious face and the subsequent mortification still sent a hot flush of embarrassment through her. She would have to be more… precise… in her application of those particular lessons.
A new resolve settled over her, cold and hard and clear as diamond. The sadness of Naruto's departure was still there, a quiet ache in her chest, but it was now overlaid with a grid of purpose. He was gone to become stronger. She would do the same. This was not a goodbye. It was the starting point for a two-year race.
Her expression hardened, the soft lines of her face solidifying into the serene, unreadable mask of a predator. She was planning.
With a final look at the empty road, she turned, her movements fluid and decisive, and began the walk back to the Hyuuga compound.
The matter of the new combat armor remains, Venom interjected, its tone shifting from strategic to logistical. I have been running simulations. The armorer's proposal is… adequate. But his understanding of exotic alloys and kinetic-energy dispersion is rudimentary. We can improve upon his design. Substantially.
Hinata continued her steady pace, the rhythmic sound of her sandals on the stone path a calming counterpoint to the alien intellect in her head.
I possess ancestral knowledge of metallurgical processes far beyond this world's current technological level, Venom stated with no small amount of smugness. The forging temperatures required for a tertiary carbon-Klyntar weave are extreme, but achievable with a controlled application of your Katon. We will need to oversee the production pipeline directly. Constant guidance will be required to ensure the final product meets our… exacting specifications.
A small, wry smile touched Hinata's lips. Of course. Her partner was also an alien super-engineer with very strong opinions on fashion.
"When we get back to the compound," she said softly, her resonant voice a promise to the entity within her, "I will get paper and scrolls. We will draw up the plans tonight."
The hum beneath her skin deepened, a low, purring thrum of perfect, absolute agreement.