Fox Tales, Act Four—"Lady Higan."
Reincarnation. It is the most agonizing ordeal every soul must endure—and yet, simultaneously, the most liberating.
Because it steals away, without condition, every memory a person has ever held dear. And simultaneously, without condition, it scours clean every piercing grief.
For a man born of flesh and blood, Zuolin's soul had been washed through ten reincarnations across a thousand years—time enough for every variety of joy and sorrow, reunion and loss, to be written into it and worn away.
But... for those souls that are not human—reincarnation was perhaps nothing more than the terminus awaiting the end of an obsession.
Zuolin sat in his palanquin, too unsettled to rest, on his way back to his estate. The strange songstress named Ahri had stirred in him a haunting sense of familiarity he couldn't place.
And then—a single black flower drifted down from the air and settled on his knee.
Mildly startled, the young nobleman glanced up. The flower's origin wasn't difficult to find: a shop along the roadside, one he had never once seen before. The flower itself—black as pooled ink—gave him the same inexplicable half-recognition.
"Stop. I want to go inside and look around."
The palanquin halted. In that swirl of confusion and curiosity, Zuolin pushed open the door.
Inside was a garden. An entire garden of spider lilies. Countless spider lilies swayed in the breeze, dancing as they do along the banks of the Wangchuan.
"A treasured guest at my door. What do you seek?~"
Soft footsteps, and a sweep of black hem drifted forward on the breeze. The woman standing before him was a beauty as dark as a black spider lily—raven hair adrift in the same wind that stirred the petals at her feet, as if she were the spirit this garden had breathed to life.
Her eyes alone were different. Cinnabar red, like the last ember in a cold hearth. The dark beauty watched Zuolin with a slow, languid smile—as though she had always known he would come.
"I... was merely passing by. Forgive my intrusion—what is this place?"
His question drew a soft laugh from the woman. She drew once on the long pipe in her hand, then spoke without haste:
"This place is called the Garden of Oblivion. It is the dwelling of all souls that linger outside the wheel of reincarnation. And I—am Lady Higan."
"I have been waiting for you, for quite some time~"
The picture book ended there without ceremony. The final image froze on those vivid red eyes—eyes that seemed to radiate a languid smile right through the page.
After confirming three times that this was truly the last page, Kurenai finally, reluctantly, closed the book and let out a long breath.
"Ugh—! How does it always stop at exactly the best part?! Who is this dark little temptress?! And that tone of hers—everything about it makes my teeth itch!"
Across the table, Anko wore the face of a woman nursing a personal vendetta. She methodically checked every page, even the inner covers, before confirming there was truly no further content—then dropped the book on the table and face-planted onto the wood with a thud.
"Well~ next week isn't a hiatus, so you only need to wait another seven days."
Asuma sat across from them, smiling with the easy contentment of a man who'd gotten there first. As the person personally in charge of developing the Fox Tales picture books, he always had access to the newest content first—and he had been quite uncharitably savoring that advantage.
"Personally~, I think Lady Higan has no ill intent. Black spider lilies—there's something achingly beautiful about them, no matter how you look at it~"
Kakashi's gaze remained fixed on the pages in his hands. Anko lifted her head from the table: "What are you on about, Kakashi? I know exactly what this is—men just like women who look like trouble, don't they?"
"I decline to address that question."
Deflecting with a grin, Kakashi tucked the picture book away and turned serious. "You all know, I assume—the Academy students are graduating soon. And this batch, practically every single one of them is going to be a handful."
"I'm aware. The three of you are probably Hokage-sama's top picks for jōnin-senseis. Count me out—my personality isn't cut out for handling kids."
Anko sat up and popped a dango skewer into her mouth, entirely at peace with her own assessment.
"Exactly. Nearly every prominent clan in Konoha has a representative graduating this cycle."
Asuma crossed his arms, tone edging toward serious. "The Hokage hasn't finalized team assignments yet, but I think the three of us need to be mentally prepared."
"Most of those kids will be fine—but the author of this book we're holding, and her associates? They won't be so easy to handle."
Kakashi lifted his copy of the picture book as he said it. Who he meant required no elaboration. As the person embedded in Hinata's crew the longest, he was clearly the one with the most authority on the subject.
"So whoever ends up with them—don't let your guard down."
"In every way."
Snick—!
A jet of flame skimmed low across the ground like a thrown shuriken and hurtled toward the wooden target dummy at the far end of the training field. The shot landed dead-on and went off like a pocket paper bomb—enveloping the dummy in a shroud of orange-red fire.
"Tch."
Hinata clicked her tongue. The output was underwhelming.
Now that she could channel chakra through the Sacred Fist Gauntlets and convert it to flame, ranged attacks were the natural next step—and after a week of popcorn drills, she could finally launch flame from her palm across a short distance. But Yami Barai had obvious limitations: it wasn't a standard hand-seal jutsu, which meant launching it at range required a deliberate whip of the forearm and a forced chakra burst. The power was inferior to any conventional Fire Release ninjutsu. Effective range was currently ten meters. Past that, the flame destabilized and fell apart on its own.
The advantages were just as clear. Chakra cost: negligible. Hand seals: none. Wind-up: nonexistent. It could be folded into any casual gesture and released without warning—which was precisely why it had an alternate name: the Assassination Flame. A sleeve-hidden blade in fire form—short range, modest power—but silent and nearly instant. Disrupt the opponent's rhythm with it, and it earned its place every time.
It was also a technique Hinata had developed entirely on her own, without telling Sasuke or Naruto a word.
Thinking of them, Hinata's pale eyes narrowed slightly.
There was no reason to do their growing for them. Getting stronger was ultimately something every person had to accomplish for themselves. If those two idiots were content to depend on her prompts and nagging, then they deserved to be left behind.
But even so... her own progress still fell short of satisfying her. Especially measured against the two of them.
Naruto had the Nine-Tails packed inside him. In the original story, even after three years of dead-last mediocrity, the moment he finally tamed it he leapt to invincible savior status overnight. Sasuke was worse—activate the Sharingan, summon a Susanoo, and nothing could stop him.
Hinata's raw talent simply couldn't compare to either of theirs. She was ahead of both of them now—but the gap was never large, and it would close without her even noticing.
She curled her fingers tight, then shook her head sharply, flinging that sting of resentment out of her mind. Motivating, yes—but for someone of her particular pride, it was also a humiliation.
Rustle—
A faint scrape of leaves from the tree line behind her. The next instant, a massive lion burst from the forest—white-furred with black ink-wash markings, like a figure stepped from a painting—and threw itself at the girl still standing with her back turned, jaws open for her throat.
"Hmph."
Hinata didn't bother turning around. Her left palm swung back with lazy indifference. A gout of orange flame erupted from it, the Yami Barai swallowing the lion whole. A sizzle like steam—and the great white beast dissolved into a wisp of pale smoke.
"Rats running in broad daylight."
Her tone was mild. Her Byakugan was already open. In her field of vision, a figure stood motionless in the trees to her left. She let her hand fall—and killing intent entered her voice. "Three seconds. After that—I kill you."
The figure hesitated. For roughly one second. Then stepped out into the open, apparently accepting that concealment meant nothing against those eyes, and that the killing intent behind those words was entirely genuine.
"They do say the Byakugan is remarkably useful. Seeing it in person—I can confirm."
Into the light stepped a boy about Hinata's age: black vest, dark slacks, an oversized scroll-and-brush set strapped to his back. His face wore a characteristic blank smile that required no further explanation.
The boy who used ink as a weapon. One of Danzō's personal guards:
Sai.
That told Hinata everything she needed to know about why he was here.
Interesting... so a sinister accomplice had noticed her. The corner of Hinata's mouth curled upward, heart quickening—she felt as though she'd spotted another opportunity.
In that state of mind, the pale-eyed girl turned around. Standing before her was a bootleg Ma Liang—three years ahead of his canon entrance—a boy who fought with drawings and a brush. Her tone was perfectly unhurried and perfectly arrogant.
"State your purpose, rat."
"And tell me—who sent you to make this charming little introduction."