"Ahahaha~~ Nyahahaha~!"
The bright girlish voice spiraled into manic cackling, and Hinata—doubled over with laughter on a tree stump—made no attempt to rein it in. This was something she only permitted herself when a plan had gone spectacularly well, or exceeded her expectations entirely.
Sai watched expressionlessly. He respected Hinata's cunning well enough, but right now he genuinely didn't know what expression was appropriate.
"Everything went perfectly! Pfft—ahahaha~ Don't look at me like that. I know it's undignified, but victory deserves a little shamelessness~"
She gazed down at the two figure cases in front of her, and the satisfaction was real.
No question about it—in the entire shinobi world, you couldn't find two people better suited to figure production than Deidara and Sasori.
One specialized in color fidelity and visual beauty; the other in articulation and collectible longevity. Between them, they represented the two major branches of the figure industry.
Better still, they were both diehard Fox Tales fans. When it came to making figures for the series, their dedication would be unmatched.
She didn't expect this venture to bring about world peace. But if she could establish a working relationship with Akatsuki, her underground operations would become exponentially easier. Assassinations, thefts—there was practically no organization in the shinobi world that could execute those things more efficiently than Akatsuki.
So from the moment Sai had stumbled into hiring Kakuzu, Hinata had been scheming to turn the organization's muscle into her personal asset. She didn't need them to obey her. She just needed them to take her commissions without asking questions whenever she needed something stolen or someone eliminated. That alone would be enough.
Based on the original story, Akatsuki had only recently assembled its full roster and was still building its reputation in the underworld—taking on jobs regardless of rank to raise both funds and notoriety.
Which meant if a long-term client appeared offering a steady stream of capital that didn't tie up much of their combat resources, their leader Pain would almost certainly give it serious consideration.
Of course, that also meant more groundwork.
Specifically: securing publishing rights for Fox Tales under Konoha's direct control, then acquiring a plot of land outside the village for a dedicated figure and merchandise production facility.
Both of those objectives would require some degree of force. And only once both prerequisites were met could she formally approach Akatsuki's punk-aesthetic, face-full-of-piercings leader about an official partnership.
Still—given that Akatsuki already counted devoted Fox Tales fans among its ranks, perhaps she could leverage their enthusiasm and skills just a little.
With that thought, Hinata closed her eyes and spoke quietly.
"...How long have we been out?"
"Three hours, my lady."
Sai's answer made her frown. The reason she'd asked was simple: roughly ten minutes ago, she'd begun feeling a persistent stinging sensation across her entire body. It wasn't physical pain—it felt more like something targeting the soul directly, accompanied by a deepening weakness.
The Soul Body Switch was showing its drawbacks. The technique's documentation had been clear: it only allowed the user's soul to temporarily occupy another person's body. It couldn't sustain separation from the original indefinitely.
What she was feeling now was her soul being rejected by the host body, taking damage in the process.
Think of the soul as a phone battery. Hinata's situation was like pulling her battery out and forcing it into a phone it wasn't designed for. Using the incompatible device drained the battery at an accelerated rate—which meant she needed to return her soul to its original body and recharge before she could operate the borrowed one again.
In other words, this technique was categorically inferior to Orochimaru's Living Corpse Reincarnation. Only someone like Hinata, who specifically needed a body double, would take the risk of using this forbidden jutsu.
Confirming that assessment, she stood. The lag between her thoughts and this body's motor response was growing worse by the second. If she didn't return to her own body soon, her soul might dissipate entirely.
"Looks like my current limit is about this long. Well—time to head back to the village."
Meanwhile, inside the village—in Hinata's room at the Uchiha Compound.
Roughly ten minutes after Hinata's soul had departed, the body lying on the bedding—arranged to look as if it were sleeping—opened its eyes. Slowly, it sat up.
This was, perhaps, the real girl named "Hinata." Her appearance and attire had changed dramatically from the original story, but the gentleness and quiet sorrow in her eyes could never have belonged to the current "Hinata."
The girl left her bed and hurried to the wastebasket nearby. Hinata had tossed a fire spark into it earlier, reducing most of its contents to ash. Only the fact that Hinata's "delivery" had arrived first had kept the bin from being emptied.
The pale-eyed girl rummaged through the ashes with desperate urgency, heedless of the soot on her hands. As if the universe pitied her quiet anguish, a half-burned scrap of paper survived the search. It was unmistakably what remained of the scroll Hinata had destroyed—but so little was left that only a rough action diagram and the blurred character for "sonic" was still legible. This was the sole remnant of the projectile moves Hinata had prepared: the Sonic Knifehand.
"That's strange—Hinata said she wasn't feeling well today. Is she sick?"
"No idea. Let's go check on her."
Sakura and Ino's voices drifted down the corridor, and the girl crouching by the wastebasket hastily tucked the charred scrap into her sleeve.
Fortunately, Hinata's authority was fearsome enough that neither Sakura nor Ino dared barge straight in. They knocked politely. "Hinata? Are you there? We came to see how you're doing—are you not feeling well?"
The girl inside froze for a moment. She had precious little time to act on her own, but after a brief hesitation, she bit her lip and walked to the door.
"Oh~ Hinata, you're up."
Ino and Sakura blinked in surprise. The pale-eyed girl did her best to put on a cold expression and said softly: "Please tell me—where is Naruto-kun right now?"
"Naruto? That guy's probably at the training grounds. Wait, your voice sounds—"
Sakura answered on instinct, but something felt immediately off.
Hold on. Since when did Hinata—that vicious girl—say "please" of all things?
"No, it's nothing~ Well then, excuse me~"
Realizing she'd given herself away, the flustered girl broke off the conversation and leaped to the nearby rooftop, bolting toward the training grounds. She left behind two very bewildered girls.
"That was weird... What's wrong with her? The tone, the attitude—it's completely different."
Arms folded, Sakura felt a chill. For her, this was roughly as disorienting as watching a tiger decide to go vegan.
"Could it be..."
Beside her, Ino's brow twitched. A deeply unsettling hypothesis surfaced in her mind. She recalled that Hinata had recently mentioned sleepwalking episodes—and as a member of a clan that specialized in spiritual ninjutsu, Ino could make an educated guess about what was really going on. The color drained from her face.
"Hm? Could it be what? Do you know something, Ino?"
Sakura stared at her friend in confusion. The next instant, Ino clamped a hand over Sakura's mouth. She glanced around, trembling, confirmed no one was listening, and fixed Sakura with a fierce look.
"Listen to me! We were never here today! We never saw Hinata! We never came to visit her! Got it?!"
"Huh? What do you mean?"
Sakura's face went white too as the implication sank in. She looked at Ino with difficulty. "You don't mean... Hinata ran into something... unclean?"
"Close enough! Just remember what I said—don't tell anyone we saw her today!"
After issuing one final warning, Ino dragged the still-shaking Sakura away from Hinata's room. Whatever was going on, they'd decided to see absolutely nothing.
The pale-eyed girl scrambled away from the Uchiha Compound and activated her Byakugan—she still knew how to use her bloodline ability, at least. Naruto's position at the training ground appeared instantly.
True to form, Naruto had been pushing himself relentlessly, trying to close the gap between himself and Sasuke and Hinata. Today was no different.
His starting line might have been slower than the other two, but Naruto had begun developing his own unique edge. As the only person in the entire story who could use the Shadow Clone Jutsu without side effects, his approach was brutally straightforward: spawn a swarm of clones and have them all repeat the same exercise, multiplying training experience by a factor of N.
Of course, this method came with one unfortunate side effect: his apple consumption had also scaled geometrically. Not wanting to waste food, Naruto forced himself to eat every apple he botched—so his real challenge at this point wasn't the training itself, but the capacity of his stomach.
The pale-eyed girl circled wide of the training ground's front and hid in a thicket nearby. Through the leaves, she watched Naruto's clones fumble through apple-peeling drills, their faces turning crimson and necks bulging from overeating. Despite how comical the bloated clones looked, there was no mockery in her gaze—only warmth, concern, and quiet support.
"Damn it... can't eat any more..."
The last clone popped out of existence, and Naruto—belly round as a drum—finally hit his limit. He collapsed flat on the training ground. At this rate, once training was over, he'd never willingly eat another apple for the rest of his life. He'd crammed three lifetimes' worth into these past few weeks.
Watching him lie motionless, the girl in the bushes felt a surge of worry. She checked her surroundings, confirmed no one else was nearby, bit her lip—and stepped out from the trees.
But the moment she reached Naruto's side and began to lean down to help him up, the supposedly incapacitated boy exploded upward. He seized her by both shoulders and pinned her to the ground.
A simple bait-and-trap. And she—driven by concern—had walked straight into it.
Naruto's voice rang with satisfaction: "Ha! Thought I was out cold, you big idiot?~ I never let my guard d—huh?"
His words died mid-sentence. When he saw who he'd pinned, the blond boy recoiled as if electrocuted, hands pressed together in immediate apology: "Sorry sorry sorry~! I didn't know it was you~~!"
This time, however, no beating or barrage of insults followed. After a long pause, a voice reached him—soft, fragile, threaded with guilt.
"...I'm... I'm sorry... Naruto-kun... I'm the one who should apologize..."
Naruto looked up in surprise. The pale-eyed girl had lowered her head, unable to meet his eyes.
And looking at her—really looking—something settled quietly in his expression. Yes. He remembered now. Back in their Academy class, there had been a pale-eyed girl who was always getting bullied. And this... this was what that girl had actually looked like.