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Chapter Text

The compound was as quiet as usual and sterile in the way it had been for as long as she remembered.

Sunlight filtered through the shoji screens. From her futon, Hinata could see the first blossoms beginning to fall from the trees in the courtyard.

The trees her mother planted when Hinata had only been 3—she smiled, observing their petals scattering like petal snow.

She dragged herself up with the strength she could muster, with the grace and composure worthy of a clan head- she could hear her father say. Hinata sat at a makeshift desk in her rooms, adjusting her posture straight as she unrolled a petition from the elders.

A (ceaseless) reminder of her duty. Her father had stepped back, though he still sat on the council; it was she who bore the title of Head of the Main House and Head of the Hyuga Clan.

The name felt like a borrowed cloak, one that felt far too heavy, one she still felt deeply unfit for.

She was lost in her thoughts until the soft padding of small feet yanked her back to reality.

“Ma—ma!” The child’s voice was bright, unburdened with the weight she shouldered.

Hinata smiled as she turned. Her son lingered in the doorway, clutching a small weasel plushie.

His dark eyes, the kind that no Hyuga child should be born with, blinked at her widely. His soft hair, slightly spiky at its edges, gently fell down his round, pale face. His eyes seemed dark in the gloomy hallway of the compound, inky-black, a coloring no Hyuga could ever have.

He carefully stepped into the room, with caution and grace too mature for a child that had just turned two. The early morning sunlight dappled his hair, turning it a dark blue that was similar to her own.

He smiled, a soft petal smile that everyone claimed looked exactly like hers.

She could see herself, but also the ghost of another in him.

“Hisaki,” she beckoned softly. He toddled forward with more determination than before, wobbly, lifting his arms.

She settled him on her lap, brushing his round cheeks and pressing a soft kiss on his hair.

For a moment, the trappings of her position vanished— there was only him. Her musings were once more interrupted by a tug at her sleeve.

“Mama,” he called with something that could be mistaken for impatience, but her Hisaki was always calm, even for a toddler.

“Outside!” She blinked; his words were slightly slurred, but he pointed with much clarity to the courtyard where the blossom petals swirled in the autumn breeze.

She smiled faintly, nodding. “Outside, then.”

They walked, with Hisaki nearly tripping several times. The wooden floors were hushed.

The servants they passed smiled back at her son, giggling at his enthusiasm, slightly bowing to her as she walked past.

Their voices lowered when they thought she was out of earshot.

In the courtyard, Hisaki ran clumsily, attempting to catch the falling petals.

Hinata watched from the engawa as she tried to ignore the mutters from Branch members walking past.

Hisaki stumbled back toward her, smiling as he clutched a fistful of blossoms.

It fell thicker then, and she held him close as if it were the storm.

Chapter Text

The evening came at last, far too fast. Hinata walked barefoot across the tatami mats into the council hall. Hisaki was sleeping peacefully in her arms, his soft snores against her chest made the all-too-familiar coldness much warmer. She handed him to his nursemaid, Kaori, who bowed slightly before turning to leave.

The elders were already gathered, their eyes followed in the same manner it always did in her childhood.

“Lady Hinata,” Elder Iroho boomed, his voice and bounced off the walls as though he was about to echo a general sentiment amongst others. “There are matters we can no longer ignore.” He stated plainly.

Her eyes slightly sharpened. “Speak.” “It is the boy, your body, my lady,” another elder remarked. “It is true he shows potential in intellect and the juuken, but from his appearance we cannot be sure he even possesses the Byakugan.”

Another leaned forward. “Lord Hisaki bears your name and the protection granted by your title. But we cannot turn a blind eye to the questions of his bloodline.”

Whispers, Hinata thought bitterly. Always whispers. Whispers followed her all her life, the earliest ones of her lack of strength, others of the future that was planned for her. And now of her son, the sole remnant of that future.

“Of course we can’t,” Hinata steeled herself. “We’re Hyuugas, we can’t turn a blind eye to anything if we try.” Her remark did earn a few low chuckles. She glanced over at her father, stoic as always, yet his eyes showed a gleam of amusement. She felt slightly glad, her father’s approval always meant the world to her.

“Hisaki is my son, a Hyuga, that is all that matters, his paternity carries no weight.”

The silence pressed heavy.

Her chest constricted, a flicker of memory. She sat quietly on the engawa in comfortable silence with her companion, together they stared at the blossom tree ahead.

The elders exchanged glances. It was not an agreement, nor defiance, but they all knew that the matter was far from over.

She padded through the dimly-lit corridors of the compound, a half-sigh escaped her lips. She walked faster, as she finally reached her room and stepped inside, she allowed herself to let out a full-sigh of relief. 

Chapter Text

Hinata knew peace was fragile. It lingered like morning mist. Beautiful, delicate, but susceptible to the harsh sun of reality.

When a servant informed her of the masked shinobi at her gate, their presence was both expected and unsettling. The three ANBU, cloaked and masked stood in front of her as she greeted them courteously in the council hall.

The leader spoke first, voice sharp behind his mask.
“Lady Hyūga. After recent threats and intelligence gathered beyond the Land of Fire’s borders, new security protocols are to be enforced across all clan compounds. Lord Sixth deems it necessary.”

Hinata inclined her head, calm though her stomach twisted. More watchers… more whispers.
“What does this mean for our clan?”

Another mask answered, quieter but colder.
“Increased patrols. Reinforced barriers. An additional operative assigned here to monitor threats—especially concerning the boy.”

Her breath stilled. Hisaki. They didn’t name him, but she heard it in their clipped tone. Her son was not simply a child in their eyes. He was a potential vulnerability. A target.

“He is protected,” Hinata said, voice firmer than she expected. A pause. Then the first ANBU leaned forward slightly.
“No one doubts your clan’s capability. But the Hokage believes… certain shadows must guard other shadows. There will be a man sent soon.”

Her throat tightened. “I see. We will comply.”

The council had just adjourned when the guards returned, stiff-backed, their pale eyes troubled.

“Lady Hinata,” one began, bowing, “the operative the Hokage promised… he has arrived.”

Hinata’s brows drew together. So soon? She had expected weeks of preparation, not hours. Yet before she could ask, the shōji door slid open.

A tall figure stepped into the chamber with unhurried ease, his porcelain ANBU mask dangling at his side rather than hiding his face. Raven hair framed sharp but weathered features. His dark eyes swept across the room, calm, assessing, unflinching—before finally resting on her.

“Lady Hinata,” he said, voice deep, steady. “I am Arata Kenji. As of today, I’ve been assigned to your household.”

The air slightly tightened. Even the councilors exchanged looks, pausing from shuffling out of the room.

Hinata straightened, her expression unreadable though her heart jolted. He wasn’t what she had expected. He wasn’t a faceless operative she could dismiss into the background. There was something about the way he moved, the silent authority in his stance, that reminded her uncomfortably of…

Kenji bowed his head slightly, not out of subservience but acknowledgement. “My orders are to enforce new security measures. That includes protecting your son.” His gaze flickered, briefly, toward the hall where Hisaki’s laughter faintly carried. “I take my duty seriously.”

She could feel the eyes of the clan on her, waiting for her response. She swallowed and steadied her voice. “I have no doubt of your serious in duty Arata-san. I have heard much about you from Lord Sixth, we welcome your presence.”

“As expected,” he murmured, voice low enough only she could hear. As she watched him walk away, one thought pressed sharply in her chest:

This man will change everything.

Chapter Text

Hinata

The Hyūga council chamber was quiet, the faint smell of incense clinging to the tatami mats. Paper screens filtered the morning light into pale strips across the polished floor. Hinata sat where her father once presided, posture steady though her heart felt heavy.

Hinata lifted her gaze. The man bowed with practiced respect. His mask hung at his side, his expression grave but calm. Dark hair brushed his shoulders, framing eyes as black as coal. His presence was quiet, unyielding, like a shadow that chose to stand in the light.

Something about him pulled at Hinata’s memory. Not his face exactly, but the way his gaze lingered without arrogance, the composed distance that masked a buried kindness underneath.

Those eyes… they remind me—
Her breath hitched before she could finish the almost treacherous thought. She clasped her hands together tightly in her lap.

“Thank you for coming,” she said, her voice calm, formal. “I understand the Hokage has ordered revisions to our security?”

“Yes,” Kenji replied. “The Hyūga compound will be reinforced and monitored. Given your clan’s importance, and your own role as head we will be prioritizing you. I’ll oversee the adjustments.”

Hinata’s lips pressed into a thin line. “ANBU within our grounds… it’s uncommon.”

“Uncommon,” he agreed. “But necessary. Peace is fragile. We can’t afford gaps.” His eyes softened briefly as they settled on her. “Not here.”

Before Hinata could respond, a small voice rang out.

“Mama?”

Her son’s call froze her. She turned just as the sliding door scraped open, and Hisaki waddled into the chamber on unsteady feet. Only two years old, his small hands clung to the edge of the frame for balance. His pale face was framed by dark, silky hair — and his dark round eyes shone with curiosity.

Hinata rose immediately. “Hisaki,” she whispered, her tone tender and warning all at once.

The boy stumbled forward with determined little steps, but stopped when he noticed Kenji. His wide dark eyes blinked up at the tall man, uncertain.

Kenji stilled. His mask hung forgotten in his hand. His gaze flickered from Hinata to the child, then back again. “Your son,” he said quietly. Not a question.

Hinata gathered Hisaki into her arms, pressing her lips to his hair. She met Kenji’s stare with something akin to defiance. “Yes. My son.”

Hisaki peered over her shoulder at the stranger, frowning a little. His tiny voice whispered loud enough for both adults to hear: “He looks… like me.”

Hinata froze.

Kenji’s expression shifted, just slightly, the faintest trace of surprise before the mask returned. Hisaki, oblivious, buried his face against his mother’s neck.

Hinata held him close, her heartbeat pounding in her ears. She dared not look at Kenji again, afraid of what she might see… or of what memories his presence was already stirring within her.

Kenji’s presence in the Hyūga compound soon became routine. His mask often rested at his hip as he adjusted patrol routes, spoke to guards, or traced the lines of the compound’s walls with sharp eyes.

Hinata noticed that the branch members grew quickly accustomed to him. He never overstepped, never carried himself with arrogance. When asked, he explained his changes in a calm, steady, persuasive voice, the kind of voice people instinctively trusted.

But it was Hisaki who seemed most curious.

One morning, Hinata found the boy toddling toward the courtyard where Kenji stood with two guards. Hisaki’s little sandals slapped against the stone path as he carried a wooden toy kunai in both hands, determination lighting his dark eyes.

Hinata opened her mouth to call him back, but stopped when Kenji noticed the child.

Kenji crouched down without hesitation, his tall frame folding smoothly into a posture that met Hisaki’s gaze on level ground. “What do you have there?” He said not unkindly.

Hisaki blinked at him, clutching the toy like a treasure. “Kunai,” he said proudly, lifting it up.

Kenji studied the toy, then the boy’s grip. “Ah,” he murmured, his lips curving into the faintest smile. “Very sharp weapon for someone your size.” He extended a gloved hand, not to take it away, but to balance the boy’s grip. “Like this. Keep your wrist straight.”

Hisaki copied the adjustment clumsily, his tongue poking from the corner of his mouth in concentration.

Hinata’s breath caught in her throat. So patient…

One of the Hyūga guards nearby whispered to another, not quietly enough: “He looks like him… don’t you think?”

Kenji glanced up, catching the words, but he said nothing. His eyes flickered briefly to Hinata before returning to the boy. She stiffened. 

“Better,” Kenji said, nodding once. “Remember, a kunai isn’t a toy. Even this one. You must respect it.”

Hisaki beamed at the praise, his dark eyes shining. Without hesitation, he reached out and placed his tiny hand on Kenji’s knee, steadying himself as children often did with someone they trusted.

The simple, innocent gesture twisted something inside Hinata’s chest.

Kenji froze for only a moment, then set his hand lightly and carefully on the boy’s shoulder. “You’re strong,” Hisaki said softly.

Hinata stepped forward at last, gathering her son into her arms. “Hisaki,” she said gently. “You mustn’t bother Kenji while he’s working.”

But the boy’s voice rose again as he clutched his toy and peered back over her shoulder. “Kenji help me.”

Kenji inclined his head in acknowledgment, his gaze meeting Hinata’s over the child’s shoulder. Something unspoken lingered there. She felt an ache she couldn’t exactly name.

And in the shadows of the courtyard, the whispers grew louder.

Kenji

The ANBU mask was a shield, and he wore it without hesitation. But here, among the Hyuga, he had no mask to hide behind (not that a mask could hide from a Byakugan’s sight). He wasn’t sure if that was a relief, or a mistake.

Today, as he briefed two branch guards on rotation schedules, the sound of small sandals caught his attention. He looked down to see little Hisaki Hyuga approaching, unsteadily but determined, a little wooden kunai clutched in his tiny fists. The boy’s expression was serious, almost comically so, his dark eyes fixed on his target.

Kenji crouched before him, instinct guiding him before thought could interfere. “What do you have there?”

“Kunai,” the boy declared, holding it up with both hands.

“Here. Keep your wrist straight. Hold it firm.”

The child mimicked him earnestly, jaw set in concentration. Something in his own chest eased, the way teaching always did, the simple act of passing knowledge without bloodshed.

Behind him, one of the guards whispered, “He looks like him.”

The words pricked Kenji’s ear like a kunai edge. Like who? The father they don’t speak of? Or… me?

He forced the thought down and gave the boy a nod. “Better. Remember, even a wooden blade should be respected.”

The boy’s face lit up with delight. Before Kenji could react, Hisaki placed a small, trusting hand against his knee. The warmth of it seeped through the fabric of his uniform, catching him off guard.

Kenji hesitated, then rested his hand on the boy’s shoulder. The boy’s vocie uttered softly. “You’re strong.”

Lady Hinata appeared then, her presence as gentle and steady as always. She gathered the boy into her arms with a quiet reprimand: “Hisaki, you mustn’t bother Kenji while he’s working.”

The child only squirmed in her hold, clutching his toy kunai. “Kenji help me,” he insisted.

Kenji inclined his head to the boy, who beamed, his dark eyes glimmering, then to Hinata. Their gazes met for the briefest of moments. Her eyes showed slight gratitude and caution, laced with something he couldn’t quite name.

Even though they were out of sight, the boy’s laughter still lingered in the courtyard.

Hisaki

The house was always quiet. Too quiet sometimes. Hisaki didn’t like quiet. Quiet made the big halls feel cold, like the snow in the air. But Mama’s voice made it warm again.

He liked following Mama, holding her sleeve until she noticed him. She always noticed. Her eyes were soft, even when the other eyes were not.

But today there was someone new. Someone tall.
He wore dark clothes and smelled of rain, like Uncle Neji, but there was also a hint of steel. Hisaki watched him from behind Mama’s legs at first. The man’s eyes weren’t white like everyone else’s, they were dark, like Hisaki’s. That made something flutter in Hisaki’s chest. Like me, he thought.

When Mama was busy, Hisaki made a break for it, and toddled closer. The man bent down, and Hisaki lifted his toy kunai proudly. “Kunai,” he announced, the word big and strong in his mouth.

The man didn’t laugh. He looked at it like it was real. He touched Hisaki’s hand and showed him how to hold it better. The man’s hand was warm, steady. Hisaki tried to copy. He wanted to do it right.

“Better,” the man said, and Hisaki’s heart jumped.

Hisaki didn’t know why, but he wanted this man to smile at him again. So he pressed his tiny hand on the man’s knee, a small, serious gesture; and when the man touched his shoulder in return, Hisaki’s world lit up. Safe.

Then Mama came. Her arms scooped him up, soft and sure. She said not to bother the man, but Hisaki wriggled and shouted, “Kenji help me!”

The tall man’s name was Kenji.
Hisaki decided he liked that name.

As Mama carried him away, Hisaki looked over her shoulder. The man was still watching him, dark eyes thoughtful. Hisaki clutched his toy kunai to his chest and smiled, wide and bright.

Maybe tomorrow, Kenji would teach him again.

Chapter Text

Hisaki

The sun was hot on the stones. Hisaki toddled, determined, toy kunai in hand. He copied Kenji’s movements from memory: step, turn, slash. His knees wobbled, and he fell with a grunt.

Kenji was there in a breath, crouching beside him.
“Up,” Hisaki demanded, holding up both arms.

Kenji didn’t laugh. He lifted him high, settling the boy on his shoulder. “Strong stance,” Kenji murmured, almost to himself. “You’ll grow into it.”

Hisaki leaned his head against the man’s dark hair and grinned. From up here, the whole compound seemed small. From up here, he wasn’t just the quiet boy with strange eyes. He was big, tall, strong, just like Kenji.

Hisaki could see over the garden wall, past the guards, out to the green hills. From Kenji’s shoulder, he imagined he could see the whole village.

“Tall,” he whispered, awestruck.
Kenji only huffed a laugh, but Hisaki never forgot it.

“Again?” Hisaki asked breathlessly.

Kenji smiled just a little, and Hisaki’s chest felt bright, like the sun when it peeked through clouds.

He began following Kenji everywhere. Down the hall, across the garden, even into the guardhouse until Mama pulled him back. Hisaki never cared about the other shinobi, they only bowed to Mama, barely glancing at him. But Kenji would pause, bend slightly, meet Hisaki’s eyes.

That was enough.

When he dreamed, sometimes he saw red eyes in the dark. He had kind eyes, gentle, like Mama’s. But in the morning, when Kenji came to train or speak with the guards, Hisaki stopped thinking of the dream.

Because Kenji was real.

And Hisaki’s small heart decided, in that way children did without knowing, that Kenji was someone he wanted to be like.

Hinata

The Hyuga compound was quieter than usual when word spread: Neji had returned from his mission. Hisaki was the first to notice, his small legs carrying him down the veranda with an eagerness that startled Hinata.

“Uncle!” the boy called, his voice rang out, full of joy, his dark eyes shining. He hopped down the steps and dashed across the courtyard, arms swinging

Neji paused in the courtyard, removing his gloves. His pale eyes softened, just slightly, as Hisaki barreled into him, clutching at his leg.

“You’re back! Did you fight bad guys? Did you win?” Hisaki asked in a rush.

Neji raised a brow, his tone calm. “I returned, didn’t I? That should be enough of an answer.”

“You’ve gotten heavier,” Neji remarked, resting a steady hand atop the boy’s dark hair. “Did you eat all of your mother’s cooking while I was away?”

Hisaki giggled, shaking his head. “Mama makes me finish my rice. You told me strong shinobi eat their rice, so I did!”

Hinata, who had followed quietly, smiled at the exchange. Neji had always been reserved, but with Hisaki, there was a gentleness that surprised even her.

“Welcome back, Neji-niisan,” Hinata said softly. “Was the mission difficult?”

“Not beyond what was expected,” Neji replied. His eyes, however, drifted to Hisaki—lingering, not critically, but thoughtfully. The boy’s pale skin, his Hyūga softness, and yet those striking dark eyes that spoke of another bloodline entirely. Neji said nothing, but Hinata felt the weight of his silence. As she felt everyone’s.

“Will you tell me about it?” Hisaki asked, tugging on Neji’s sleeve, eyes wide.

“Not all missions are stories worth telling,” Neji said, crouching to meet the boy’s gaze. “But perhaps next time, when you’re older, you’ll understand.”

Hisaki pouted but accepted the answer, then leaned close, whispering loudly enough for both adults to hear: “Mama worries about you a lot.”

Neji glanced up at Hinata, who flushed lightly. For the first time in months, his lips curved in something faintly resembling a smile. “Then I suppose I’ll have to give her less reason to.”

The sound of an approaching figure interrupted them. Kenji stepped out, dressed in dark garb and the standard ANBU vest, he walked languidly yet equally deliberate. He gave a small bow to Hinata, before leaning against one of the pillars.

Hisaki looked over happily. “Uncle, this is Kenji-san! He works here now. He teaches me things too! A lot of things in fact!” The boy spreaders his arms in exclamation to emphasize his point. His excitement palpable. Neji’s pale eyes flicked towards Kenji. Hinata stepped forward.

“Brother, this is Arata Kenji, he is leader of the ANBU squad the Lord Sixth dispatched to oversee the new security protocols.” Hinata explained calmly.

Kenji inclined his head politely. “Hyuga-san, I’ve heard much about you from your cousin and nephew.”

Neji nodded. “We will be in your care.” He bowed slightly, voice even with quiet scrutiny.

For a beat, silence settled. Hisaki looked up curiously before tugging both men’s sleeves as though he were the thread that blinded them together, beaming.

Neji finally exhaled, his sharpness softening when he glanced back at the boy.

He truly resembled her father in those rare moments when Hisaki manages to squeeze a smile out of him. She would know, after all, as a child all she truly yearned for was for him to look at her that way. 

His eyes briefly met hers over her child’s head, carrying unspoken questions.

For now though, neither voiced them.

Neji

The compound gates closed behind him with a soft thud. After weeks away on patrol, Neji relished the quiet of home. Yet even here, silence was deceptive. Whispers carried faster within the walls of the Hyūga than the wind itself.

The first voice to break his thoughts was Hisaki’s. “Uncle!”

The boy’s small form darted across the courtyard, dark hair flying. Neji’s chest eased despite himself as Hisaki latched onto him, demanding stories of battles he could not share. He let the boy’s questions wash over him, his hand resting lightly atop that dark head. He pulled back again, and saw Hisaki’s round, curious eyes peer up. Dark… not pale, Neji thought. The eyes that looked up at him were not the Byakugan, but something heavier, sharper, darker. The very eyes that fueled clan gossip.

Then there was that ANBU captain.

The whispers he’d overheard in the streets returned to him now: that the child’s father had not been named, that perhaps this Kenji was more than a helper. That his appearance, dark eyes was too convenient.

Neji said little. He had seen enough in Kenji’s stance, the faint scar near his collar, the silence between his breaths. Dangerous. But not reckless.

Instead his eyes lingered on the man, absorbing and filing away the details. His thoughts were interrupted by a soft tug at his sleeves. He looked down at the boy, Hinata’s boy.

Hisaki had interrupted with a child’s boldness, also tugging at Kenji’s cloak and chattering to him as if they were old friends. Neji had not missed how Kenji bent easily, answering softly, as though the boy were not just a clan heir but… something more.

The boy’s innocence twisted something in Neji’s chest. Hisaki was too young to understand why his dark eyes drew stares in every hallway. Too young to know why the elders whispered behind folded fans, questioning his place.

When he straightened, Hinata’s eyes met his. There was a plea in them, unspoken but clear: trust me. Don’t ask.

He gave the faintest nod. Not of agreement, but of restraint. Whatever thoughts Hinata had, he would not press here, not in front of Hisaki. But in the quiet of his mind, Neji acknowledged the truth of the rumors: Hisaki was not just another Hyuga child. And this Kenji, whatever role he played, was now tangled in that truth

The afternoon light slanted through the paper doors, casting long shadows in the Hyūga compound. Neji walked at an even pace, Hisaki trotting happily at his side, small feet padding against polished wood. The boy’s laughter was a light, bubbling sound—something rare in these halls, and Neji found himself softening at it.

But as they turned a corner, the air shifted.

Two branch members bowed quickly as they passed, but not before Neji’s sharp ears caught the murmurs left behind.

“Look at his eyes—too dark for a Hyūga…”
“Not even the Byakugan will save him if he carries another man’s blood.”
“And with that ANBU captain visiting so often—”

Neji slowed but did not stop. His face was impassive, but the words burned. He had thought the clan’s cruelty had dulled with time, that Hinata’s leadership had softened their rigid ways. Yet here it was again, the same poison he had once lived under himself, the same Hinata too lived under.

But when he glanced down, he saw Hisaki’s smile falter. The boy’s steps slowed. His wide dark eyes, usually filled with wonder, had gone still, serious—too serious for a child of two.

Neji’s chest tightened. Already, he hears them.

They continued in silence, Hisaki’s small hand clutching Neji’s sleeve, his little brow furrowed as though he was puzzling through something far too heavy.

And then—

“Hisaki!”

Kenji’s voice rang out across the corridor, warm and unguarded. The man strode toward them, still half in uniform from whatever watch he’d been called from. Before Neji could react, Hisaki broke into a run.

In an instant, Kenji had scooped him up, lifting the boy high into the air. Hisaki squealed with laughter, his earlier solemnity gone as his arms flailed toward the ceiling. The sound echoed through the hall, scattering the whispers like birds.

He noted the shift, the way Hisaki’s joy returned the moment Kenji entered the scene.

The ANBU captain was not family. Not yet. But Hisaki looked at him as though he were a safe harbor, one unshaken by shadows or rumors.

And Neji could not ignore it: the child who sensed too much of the world already was learning, instinctively, where to turn for comfort.

Chapter Text

The Hyūga compound always felt too still. Too sharp in its silences, too heavy with unspoken words. But outside its walls, Hinata could breathe more freely.

At the edge of the market square, Hisaki tugged at her hand, eager, his little sandals slapping against the ground. His dark eyes darted toward the familiar voices ahead.

“Auntie Ino!” he called, breaking free to run the last few steps.

Ino crouched low, arms wide. “There he is! My favorite Hyūga!” She scooped him up and spun him until his squeals rang above the market noise. Hisaki clung to her neck, laughter bubbling out of him, the solemn weight he sometimes carried nowhere in sight.

“You’re heavier every week,” Ino teased, planting a noisy kiss on his cheek. “Hinata, are you feeding him soldier pills?”

Hinata’s lips curved, soft but amused. “Just rice and vegetables.”

“Vegetables?” Tenten arched a brow. “No wonder he’s so strong already. Look—” she pointed when Hisaki’s small hand reached curiously for the kunai charm at her wrist. “Sharp eyes. He’s going to be a natural.” She leaned close, whispering conspiratorially, “Just like me.”

Hisaki grinned wide at that, clapping once, and Tenten laughed before ruffling his dark hair.

Sakura knelt to adjust the boy’s crooked collar, her touch gentle and practiced. “And neat too. Look at him—he’s better dressed than half the men in this village.” She flicked her gaze toward Hinata, a small, knowing smile tugging at her lips. “Although… maybe he has someone to thank for that.”

Hinata blinked. “Someone?”

“Oh, don’t play dumb,” Ino cut in, sing-song, swaying Hisaki back and forth on her hip. “We’ve all noticed how a certain ANBU captain always seems to appear at just the right moment. Honestly, Hinata, you could do worse.”

Hinata’s face warmed, her fingers fiddling nervously with the hem of her sleeve. “Kenji is… only helping with security.”

“Security, huh?” Tenten smirked, folding her arms. “Strange, I’ve never seen a bodyguard make a child laugh that hard just by walking into a room.”

At that, Hisaki clapped again, as if in agreement. “Kenji!” he chirped, the name clear as day.

The three women exchanged glances, then burst into laughter.

“Oh, listen to him,” Ino cooed. “Even Hisaki’s on our side!”

Hinata’s blush deepened, but she couldn’t help smiling. Around them, the marketplace continued as if untouched by war or whispers. For one brief moment, it was just Hisaki’s laughter, her friends’ voices, and the warmth of being among those who saw her not as clan head, but simply as Hinata.

Chapter Text

Hisaki planted himself in the center of the courtyard like a miniature general. Sakura crouched to his level, smiling as he proudly unfolded the fan.

“You made this yourself?” she asked, her voice rich with approval.

Hisaki nodded so fiercely his dark hair fell into his eyes. “Mama helped a little,” he admitted, glancing up at Hinata with wide-eyed honesty.

Tenten leaned on her hip, grinning. “He’s already better at crafts than Neji ever was. Don’t let him hear me say that.”

Ino laughed, tossing her hair over her shoulder as she scooped Hisaki back up. “Of course he’s talented. Look at his mother.” She shot Hinata a pointed look, her lips curling into a smirk. “Speaking of which… has our ANBU captain been around the compound lately?”

Hinata flinched, her gaze darting toward Hisaki as though the boy might somehow overhear. “Kenji is thorough,” she said, her tone more defensive than intended. “He takes his duties seriously.”

Sakura smirked knowingly. “Mm, yes, very seriously. Especially the duty of carrying little boys through corridors until they’re laughing again.”

At the sound of the name, Hisaki beamed, clapping his hands. “Kenji lifts me up!” he declared. “Up high!” He stretched his arms above his head, giggling.

The three women exchanged sly glances.

“Oh, Kenji lifts me up, does he?” Tenten teased, reaching over to poke Hisaki’s side. “Sounds like someone’s spending a lot of time here.”

Hinata’s flush deepened. “He’s here for security detail,” she said quickly. “That’s all. He’s… he’s just helping.”

“Helping,” Ino echoed, her tone dripping with disbelief. “Uh-huh. Helping keep the Hyūga compound safe… or helping keep its Clan Head from being lonely?”

Hinata’s lips parted in protest, but Hisaki interrupted with a squeal, waving the fan again. “Kenji strong! Kenji fast! He makes the bad whispers go away.”

The courtyard grew quiet for a heartbeat. The boy didn’t seem to notice—he was too busy twirling in Ino’s arms—but the women caught the weight in his words.

Sakura softened, brushing her fingers lightly over Hisaki’s hair. “He feels it too,” she murmured, not without admiration. “At two years old…”

Hinata looked away, clutching the scrolls tighter to her chest. Her friends’ teasing had been meant in jest, but their eyes were gentler now, their glances acknowledging both her strength and the delicate threads of hope she hadn’t dared name.

Hinata’s lips parted, but before she could speak, Ino slid closer, lowering her voice just enough to keep it between them. “Hinata, you’ve carried this whole clan on your shoulders since the war. Nobody would blame you for leaning on someone. Especially someone who seems to… care.”

Hinata exhaled slowly, her gaze softening on her son. Yet beneath it all, the quiet stirring of her friends’ words lingered, pressing against the walls she’d carefully built around her heart.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

When Naruto left the training ground, the chatter of the academy students trailed after him like birdsong. Hinata lingered a moment longer, her gaze soft on the empty space where he had been standing.

Chapter Text

The Hyūga compound was quiet that night. Lanterns lined the walkways, their faint glow swaying with the evening breeze. Most of the clan had already retired, leaving the corridors nearly empty except for the occasional patrol.

Hinata moved slowly, her thoughts still tangled from earlier that day. Naruto’s words replayed in fragments—polite, serious… older men—and though she tried to push them aside, her heart betrayed her with its restless flutter.

She was halfway through the northern wing when a familiar voice broke the silence.

“Lady Hinata.”

She turned and found Kenji waiting in the shadows, half-armored from his evening watch. His mask was tucked under his arm, his face calm but his dark eyes carrying a weight that always seemed to unsettle her.

“You shouldn’t be walking alone this late,” he said, his tone even, though softer than his usual clipped cadence. “Allow me to escort you back.”

She hesitated for the barest moment, the words striking somewhere deep inside her. Not because she needed protection—she had long since proven her strength—but because of the way he said it. Not as a guard, but as someone who cared.

Her lips curved into a small, uncertain smile. “If… if you don’t mind.”

He inclined his head, falling into step beside her. For a time, neither spoke. The only sound was the crunch of gravel underfoot and the rustle of leaves stirred by the wind. Yet the silence between them did not feel empty. It was heavy, expectant, as though every unsaid thought hung just above their heads.

Hinata glanced sideways at him. The lantern light brushed against his features, outlining the sharpness of his jaw, the faint scar near his temple, the way his eyes softened when they shifted toward her. She remembered Naruto’s sly grin and felt the warmth return to her cheeks.

Kenji noticed the flicker of color but did not comment. Instead, after a pause, he asked quietly, “Do the rumors trouble you?”

Her breath caught. She could deny it, retreat into formality—but his voice carried no judgment, only sincerity. For the first time, she did not flinch from the question.

“…They trouble Hisaki,” she admitted at last. “That’s what matters to me.”

Kenji nodded, expression unreadable. But as they reached the threshold of her wing, he stopped, turning slightly toward her.

“I’ll see to it they don’t reach him,” he said firmly. “You have my word.”

The promise was simple, but the conviction in his tone made her chest tighten.

She lowered her gaze, suddenly aware of how close they stood, of how her heartbeat quickened in a way she had not expected. “Thank you… Kenji.”

For a moment, the lantern between them flickered, as though mirroring the unspoken current in the air. Then he inclined his head again, and with the same quiet gravity, withdrew into the shadows of the corridor.

Hinata lingered long after he was gone, her hand pressed lightly to her chest, trying to calm the warmth that refused to leave her.

Chapter Text

The lanterns were still burning when Hisaki woke.

He wasn’t supposed to be awake. Not this late, not when the servants had already dimmed the halls, but the light outside mama’s room was soft and moving, and that always meant she hadn’t gone to sleep yet.

Hisaki slipped out from under his blanket, his tiny feet padding soundlessly across the tatami. The corridors of the Hyūga compound were vast and cold at night, but he didn’t feel afraid. Somewhere, he could still hear mama’s soft voice.

When he turned the corner, he saw her.

She stood just beyond the veranda, the last of the paper lanterns swaying near her. Her eyes were distant, her hands folded in front of her chest like she was holding onto a secret thought.

And then he Kenji, standing a few paces away. His armor caught the lantern’s glow, his expression calm as ever. He said something quiet, too quiet for Hisaki to hear, and his mama smiled.

It wasn’t the same smile she gave to the elders, or to the visiting shinobi. It was smaller, softer — like something that belonged only to her and to the person standing before her.

Hisaki’s chest felt strange. He didn’t quite understand it, but he could feel the air between them. Like when two chakra signatures touched — invisible, but alive.

He pressed his little hand against the wooden beam, peering around it, trying to see more. When Kenji bowed and turned away into the darkness, his mother watched him until the light no longer touched his form.

Then she sighed, very quietly, the kind of sigh that carried both relief and something heavier.

Hisaki didn’t know what that meant. But later, when his mother came to check on him, he pretended to be asleep and listened as she lingered by his bed longer than usual.

The next morning, over breakfast, Hisaki stared at her for a long time.

“Kenji make you happy?” he asked suddenly.

Mama blinked, nearly dropping her chopsticks. “W–what?” Hisaki tilted his head. “You smiling yesterday.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but words didn’t come easily. There was warmth in her cheeks, and something unspoken behind her eyes.

“I suppose he… makes things easier,” she murmured at last, reaching over to smooth his hair. “Why do you ask?”

Hisaki shrugged, pushing rice around in his bowl. “When you smile like that, the house feels less quiet.”

For a moment, she froze. Then she leaned forward and kissed the crown of his head, whispering something he didn’t quite catch, something that sounded like thank you.

Later that day, as Kenji passed through the courtyard on patrol, Hisaki waved at him. The man smiled faintly, raising a gloved hand in return.

Chapter Text

Kenji didn’t usually linger.

Years in ANBU taught him that silence was safety, that to stay too long in one place, or beside one person — invited attachment, distraction, risk.

And yet, he lingered.

The Hyūga compound at night was beautiful in its stillness. Moonlight brushed the roofs in silver, the paper lanterns glowed soft and amber. From where he stood near the veranda, Lady Hinata’s silhouette was framed against the light — delicate but steady, like the flame itself.

He’d come to deliver a report. That was the reason, the excuse. Updated security logs, border surveillance routes. All routine. But he’d known even before he crossed the courtyard that it wasn’t really the report that had drawn him here. He knew when he spotted the sight of the young dark-haired woman. 

“Captain Kenji,” she greeted, turning slightly as he approached. Her voice was quiet, like a whisper of wind through reeds.

“Forgive the hour, Lady Hinata,” he said, bowing. “I wanted to ensure the new patrol rotations were implemented properly.”

Her lips curved faintly. “You could have sent a messenger.”He should have. He knew that. But instead, he said, “It seemed… important.”

The words hung between them, heavier than they should have been. She smiled, that same smile that disarmed him every time, the one that seemed to belong to another life entirely. “Thank you, Kenji. You’ve been very kind to us lately.”

Us.

The word struck him deeper than he expected. It wasn’t formality. She had meant Hisaki too.

For a moment, his composure wavered. He thought of the little boy: dark-eyed, bright, quick to laugh despite the shadows of his mother’s name. Of the way he ran toward him in the corridors, how naturally it came to reach out and lift him high, to make him smile again.

That warmth scared him more than any mission ever had.

“I only do what’s expected,” Kenji said finally, his tone even, his posture unflinching. But the words felt thin, false. Lady Hinata tilted her head. “Expected?”

He met her gaze, and for the first time, couldn’t hold it.

“Yes,” he murmured, eyes dropping. “But… perhaps I do more than I should.” There was no reprimand in her silence, only a gentle stillness, like she was weighing something she’d long suspected but never dared name. A breeze stirred between them, carrying the faint scent of wisteria. “Kenji,” she said softly, “you’ve done more for us than duty requires. I trust you.”

Trust.

It was a word he’d earned on the battlefield, but never in a home. He bowed slightly, more to hide the tightness in his chest than out of formality. “Then I will continue to protect you, Lady Hinata. That is my promise.”

When he left her standing by the lanterns, he didn’t see the way her hand lingered in the air, as if reaching for something she wasn’t sure she should touch.

But he felt it.

All the way back to his apartment.

And when he closed his eyes, the image of her standing in the lantern light — serene, fragile, unguarded — followed him into sleep like an echo.

Chapter Text

The courtyard had gone still again. Only the faint rustle of wind in the wisteria broke the silence, the petals trembling against the paper lanterns that still glowed where Kenji had stood moments ago.

Hinata’s hand was still half raised — a small, almost foolish gesture that hung in the air long after he was gone. She lowered it slowly, fingers brushing the fabric of her sleeve. The place he had stood seemed to hold its own warmth, lingering in the air.

“Kenji…” she whispered under her breath.

It wasn’t that she hadn’t noticed before. The way he spoke, the careful distance in his tone, the quiet grace of someone used to carrying burdens alone. She’d known men like that before. One man, in particular.

She remembered the same kind of nights: the hush of moonlight against the walls, the soft steps approaching her window. How he’d always stood just beyond reach, cloaked in shadow but gentle in his silence. He never asked her to wait. And yet she always did.

Even now, years later, her chest still ached with the memory of it.

Kenji’s eyes were different — steady, clear, untroubled by guilt, but it felt all the same. That unspoken care. That restraint. That strange tenderness that felt like both protection and farewell.

She’d promised herself that once she would never love another shinobi. That her heart had already chosen, and would bear its silence with dignity.

And yet…

The memory of Kenji’s voice from earlier. Low, careful, almost too honest — stirred something deep in her: “Perhaps I do more than I should.” A part of her had wanted to answer. To tell him that she noticed, that she felt it too. The way his gaze softened when Hisaki laughed, the way he lingered at her side a little longer than duty required.

But she hadn’t. Because to speak it would be to betray what once was.

And because she wasn’t sure if she wanted to love again. Or if what she felt was love at all, or merely the echo of a lost one reborn in another’s form.

She sank down to the veranda, pulling her knees to her chest. She thought of Hisaki. Her son.
Her last tie to a man the world called a traitor, and she called beloved.

And yet, watching Kenji with him earlier, the way Hisaki had lit up, the easy laughter that had filled the halls, she had felt something she hadn’t felt in years: peace.

Perhaps it was selfish to wish for that again.

Perhaps it was cruel.

Still, when she finally rose and turned toward her room, she glanced once more at the spot where Kenji had stood. The faintest smile breaking through her hesitation.

“Thank you,” she murmured to the empty courtyard. “For caring more than you should.”

The lantern light flickered, as if in answer.

Chapter Text

The streets of Konoha were pitch dark, with the exception of the lights from closing stalls, and of course— the Hokage Tower. The path towards said tower was etched with silence, save for the sounds of chairs pulled in and the soft footsteps of returning shinobi.

Kenji strolled languidly down the road that led to his home, musing over the day’s work. He closed his eyes. He could still hear Hisaki’s squeal of delight.

“Kenji-kun” a voice called out. He turned around, “Kakashi-sama” he responded, bowing slightly to his old comrade. “Drop the -sama, would you” came Kakashi’s exasperated response. “Returning home late are you now,” the barest hint to a grin crept in the Hokage’s voice “you sure spend your sweet time at the compound..” Kakashi ended with a sly, whispery tone as if it were a forbidden secret between them. He needed not to mention which compound. They both knew. Everybody knows. 

”Duty calls.” Kenji responded, as clipped and even as he could manage. 

“Is the duty in question..” Kakashi’s voice dropped speculatively “a clan head with a child at her hip?” 

As if it were a natural instinct, Kenji’s eyes turned towards the direction that led to the Hyuga Compound. Kakashi’s eyes sharpened with slight interest, before softening into an understanding look. 

“There’s nothing wrong with it you know…” the Hokage waved his perverted book flippantly in front of Kenji’s face, as if implying something, “we all find peace and solace sometimes in places we should not..” his face turned contemplative. “And you aren’t the first to find it in her.” 

Who was the first to find it in her then, Kenji wondered. Although it doesn’t take a genius to figure out who Kakashi was referring to, no doubt Hisaki’s father. The paternity of Hisaki Hyuga was a hot topic among villagers, Kenji had heard whispers. That the boy was fathered by some noble lord, some claimed the child’s father was shinobi not of Konoha. There was also talk, that was actively suppressed by Kakashi, that the boy’s father was the late Uchiha Sasuke—somehow fathered before the last Uchiha passed at the end of the war. 

Kenji thought of the promise he made to Hinata, to ward the whispers away— but it seems his presence has the opposite effect. Yet selfishly, Kenji remained, lifting Hisaki up high in the courtyard for the whole clan— and world to see.  

Chapter Text

It was his birthday today. He had woken up due to the chill, carefully he extricated himself from the heavy blanket and paddled towards the window— taking note of the slight crack. Hisaki frowned— somehow it felt like a bad omen of sorts. 

The sound of running footfalls faintly echoed, before Hisaki could fully react, a figure bursted in his room. “Happy Birthday!” Hanabi bellowed, Hisaki swore he felt the ground shake. She strides cheerfully wrapping him in a crushing hug. “Auntie!” He protested. That got a pout from her, “But you like it when Neji hugs you..” she complained. 

“He holds me, not crushes me” the boy replied with such an even voice and a matter-of-fact face that his aunt felt taken aback. Finally she relents, “fine..” Hanabi muttered. “Happy birthday!” Before standing up, and ruffling his hair. She padded towards the door, before turning around with a playful smile, winking. Then she left. 

Hisaki let out a sigh. Today wasn’t just his 3rd birthday, it was the day that every Hyuga child receives their first training in harnessing the Byakugan, and the Gentle Fist. The fact that he was the Clan Head’s son meant that his first training sessions will no doubt be observed by many. More eyes, more watchers, and more whispers…The training was to be overseen by his mother, as tradition dictated. His thoughts were interrupted by a shuffling sound “Lord Hisaki may I come in?”

His nursemaid, Kaori entered. She was a woman slightly older than his mother, with a warmth so unlike others that may even rival his mother. She smiled “Happy birthday young lord!” She chirped, before moving to dress him. He offered Kaori a small grin. Robes in Hyuga blinding white were draped on his body. Hisaki never truly understood why, but his mother always insisted he wear white. “It is the colour of our clan, your clan..” she would say. But her smile would always tighten in a way that told him there was another reason. He always wondered if it was related to the reason why she rarely permitted him to wear black. Or the reason why she always spent hours carefully grooming his hair long and straight. 

Walking down the vast hallways of the compound seemed daunting somehow. The white yukata made him blend in with others, but he still stuck out like a sore thumb somehow, and the long and sterile halls made him feel smaller and smaller the more steps he took— the more whispers he heard.

The Head’s dining room was cozy. As cozy as anything Hyuga could be. Mama sat at the head of the small table, she turned around beaming, beckoning him over. “Happy birthday sweetheart” she whispered against his hair. He smiled shyly. It was his grandfather’s congratulations he received next, the words seemed genuine and was delivered with a sincere smile, something rare from his mother’s father. Next were words of how he looked forward to the first training session, and how he was confident he would do well. His aunt parroted her earlier words, and Uncle Neji gave him a slight pat on the head, his words echoing that of Hisaki’s grandfather. 

Hisaki walked towards the window, peering outside. Leaves were already starting to fall, soon the remainder from the white blossom tree in the courtyard will no doubt shift to various shades of red.

Chapter Text

There were prodigies—children who excelled, who learned forms and patterns faster than most.
And then there was Hisaki.

Neji had seen talent before. He was talent once. Heralded as the Hyuga clan’s brightest, the bearer of perfection written in blood and chakra flow. But as he stood at the edge of the courtyard, watching the small boy move through a sequence no child should even know, he felt something old stir in his chest. Not envy. Not pride. Something heavier.

Awe.

Hisaki’s hands moved faster than his eyes could follow. His form was flawless—every stance precise, every breath matched to the rhythm of his chakra. The air around him shimmered faintly, the soft hum of Hyūga chakra resonating in the open yard. Except… there was something else.

When he struck, it wasn’t the clean, rippling pressure of Gentle Fist—it was sharper, heavier, threaded with a kind of cutting intent. His chakra lashed out, invisible but felt. Neji could sense the recoil of force against the dummy as though the air itself had clenched.

Hinata clapped softly, smiling, though her expression trembled at the edges. “That was perfect, Hisaki,” she said, voice gentle.

The boy turned to her, his pale eyes, newly harnessed Byakugan—glinting faintly. “Again?”

“Just once more,” she murmured.

He nodded, focus returning instantly, and moved into the next stance with the grace of someone far older. The control he had was unreal. Three years old, and yet his chakra pathways pulsed evenly, perfectly balanced. He was already regulating internal flow instinctively. Neji hadn’t mastered that until he was eight.

How…?

When Hisaki finished the form, he exhaled and looked up at Neji expectantly, as if waiting for judgment.

Neji approached, kneeling beside him. “Where did you learn that last strike?”

Hisaki blinked. “It… felt right.”

“Felt right?” Neji echoed.

The boy nodded, serious. “Mama says I should listen to my chakra. So I did. It wanted to go there.” He pointed to the spot on the dummy’s chest where his strike had landed—a perfect hit, precisely where a Gentle Fist user would stop a heart’s rhythm.

Neji stared. That precision wasn’t learned. It was innate.

Hinata knelt beside them, her hand on her son’s shoulder. “He’s… been able to sense the tenketsu since he was two,” she admitted softly. “He doesn’t see them as we do. He feels them. Like threads of warmth.”

Hisaki looked up at her and smiled—a small, bright thing, unbothered by the weight of what he carried. “Mama, can I train again tomorrow?”

Hinata smiled back. “We’ll see.”

Neji rose, his gaze never leaving the boy. There was grace in Hisaki’s stillness, but also a power that hummed too deep for a child. His chakra was dense—like the compressed current of someone who’d lived a hundred lives.

As Hisaki ran ahead to chase a falling petal, Neji turned to Hinata. “He’s extraordinary.”

She nodded, but her voice was quiet. “I know.”

“Extraordinary enough to worry you.”

“…Yes.”

They stood in silence, the wind tugging gently at their sleeves.

Neji’s eyes followed Hisaki as the boy leapt across the stepping stones near the pond, light on his feet, unafraid of slipping. There was a flicker of something unfamiliar in his movement—an echo of another genius long gone. The poise, the stillness before striking, the quiet, deliberate way he breathed.

He saw a flicker of recognition across Hinata’s face when the boy turned and smiled.

She looked haunted.

“Uncle Neji?” Hisaki’s small voice called out. “Did I do good?”

Neji’s throat tightened before he could speak. “You did very good, Hisaki.”

The boy grinned, triumphant, before darting back to his mother.

As the afternoon sun burned low behind the trees, Neji exhaled slowly.

Whatever destiny awaited the child—it would not be the quiet one of the Hyuga.

Chapter Text

The Hyuga council chamber was all formality and stillness—tatami floors gleaming under lamplight, scrolls of lineage hanging behind the elders like silent judges.
Hinata sat at the head of the table, posture straight, hands folded in her lap. Her heart was steady, but her mind still held the image of Hisaki, his pale eyes and bulging veins when the byakugan came to life, the elegant flare of his chakra as he struck—gentle fist made precise, fierce, and impossibly fast.

The room buzzed quietly as the elders reviewed the reports from the morning’s training session.
Words like “precocious,” “inherited talent,” “rare focus for his age” drifted around her like the hum of bees.

And beneath it all, the one word that hadn’t been said in months: doubt.

Not once.

Her father’s former advisors sat near the front. One of them—Elder Souma, a man known for his rigid traditionalism, cleared his throat.
“Lady Hinata,” he began, tone measured, “we have all witnessed the child’s early potential. His control of the Byakugan at such an age is… extraordinary.”

He hesitated, voice dipping lower. “It appears… the bloodline is strong in him after all.”

That was as close to an apology as Hinata would ever get from him.

Her expression remained serene, but inside, relief bloomed slow and deep. “Hisaki has been diligent,” she said softly. “He trains every day, though he is still a child. I ask only that he be allowed to grow at his own pace.”

Another elder, kinder-faced, smiled faintly. “The boy reminds me of young Neji. Yet his technique, there’s something… sharper in it.”

Hinata inclined her head. “He adapts quickly. But I intend to guide him toward control, not aggression.”

There was a murmur of agreement. Someone even laughed quietly.
The air, for once, did not feel hostile.

Still, as her eyes swept the room, Hinata felt the ghosts of the whispers that had once filled these walls. Too quiet. Too strange. Too different.

Now those same voices were discussing prodigy.

Her gaze drifted to the door—where, outside, she could faintly hear Hisaki’s laughter echoing down the corridor. Kenji was with him again, keeping him entertained while the meeting dragged on. The child’s giggles pierced even the council’s silence, and for a fleeting moment, she almost smiled.

Elder Souma sighed. “He will need proper supervision once his chakra matures. Perhaps a mentor outside the clan as well.”

Hinata’s expression softened, but her voice was firm. “I already have someone in mind.”

The elders exchanged glances, none daring to challenge her tone.

They adjourned soon after, and as Hinata stepped into the hall, the cool air met her like a long exhale.

Hisaki came barreling toward her, hair mussed, eyes alight. Kenji followed at a polite distance, one corner of his mouth tilted in a rare, faint smile.

“Mama!” Hisaki chirped, clutching something in his hand—a stray blossom from the garden. “I trained good today!”

“You did,” Hinata said, kneeling to meet him. Her voice trembled with pride. “Everyone saw.”

Behind her, the sliding doors of the council room shut with a soft click—closing, perhaps for the first time, not on judgment but on acknowledgment.

And as Hisaki tugged her hand toward the sunlight beyond the courtyard, Hinata allowed herself a thought she hadn’t dared to hold for years:

Her son would not live under the shadow of doubt.
He would cast his own light—
bright enough to silence even the oldest whispers.

Chapter Text

The courtyard was quiet now. Evening light stretched over the stone paths, gold slipping through the wisteria trellises. The scent of spring hung heavy—fresh grass, sakura petals, and the faint mineral tang of the training grounds after hours of use.

Kenji stood near the edge of the courtyard, arms crossed loosely as he watched Hisaki chase fireflies. The boy moved quick and sharp—grace already woven into his tiny limbs. He missed the flickering lights more often than not, but each failure seemed to sharpen his next attempt.

There was something strange yet familiar in that focus..

“Captain Kenji.”

Hinata’s voice was soft but carried through the air like a clear note.
He turned, immediately straightening. She stood a few steps away, robes loose from the long day, her expression calm but eyes still shadowed from the meeting.

“Lady Hinata,” he greeted.

She hesitated—just long enough for him to notice. Then:
“I’d like to ask something of you.”

Kenji said nothing, though his chest tightened.

Hinata folded her hands before her. “Hisaki’s training has begun earlier than I’d hoped. His chakra control… his instincts—they’re developing quickly. Too quickly.” Her gaze flicked to the child, who had just performed an almost perfect palm strike to block a drifting blossom.

Kenji raised an eyebrow. “Impressive for his age.”

“Yes.” Her voice softened, almost bittersweet. “But his strength is growing faster than his restraint. He needs someone who can teach him balance. Someone who understands the cost of talent… and how to bear it.”

She looked at Kenji then—really looked.
Not as her clan’s security officer, nor as a distant ANBU, but as a man who had seen too much and carried it well.

“I’d like you to help me train him.”

For a long moment, Kenji said nothing. His gaze shifted from her to the boy—Hisaki had managed to cup a single firefly in his hand, peering at it with reverence, as if holding a secret. 

“I’m no Hyūga,” Kenji said finally.

“I’m not asking you to teach him the gentle fist,” she replied quietly. “I’m asking you to help him learn composure. To see strength not as a weapon, but as something to protect.”

Her words hit something in him—old, buried, but not forgotten.
He remembered the day he’d buried his own squadmate, a boy barely 17. The same fierce dark eyes, the same tempered fire behind.

Kenji exhaled slowly. “If that’s your request, Lady Hinata… I’ll do what I can.”

When she smiled, it wasn’t the polite smile of the clan head, but something smaller, warmer. “Thank you.”

Hisaki noticed them then and came running, firefly still glowing faintly between his fingers. “Mama! Kenji! Look!”

Kenji knelt to the boy’s height. “That’s quite a catch.”

The little boy grinned. “Can you teach me to move like you? You’re fast! Faster than Uncle Neji!”

Hinata blinked, startled. Kenji only smirked. “Is that so?”

“Yes! I saw you once, when you stopped the man near the gates—you moved like” Hisaki mimicked a blur, his small hands slicing through the air. His round, dark eyes widened with awe, his hands flapped wildly in excitement and exaggeration. 

Kenji chuckled softly. “We’ll see about that.” 

Hinata watched as Hisaki laughed, running circles around Kenji’s boots. There was something grounding in the sight—her child’s laughter, Kenji’s patience, the fading light softening the edges of her worry.

She didn’t say it aloud, but as the evening deepened, she thought:

Perhaps this was the balance she had prayed for.

Chapter Text

The village hummed with late-morning life. Children ran between the food stalls, and the smell of steamed buns drifted down the narrow road near the Hokage monument.

Hinata sat at a small table outside the teahouse, her pale eyes softened by the sunlight that slipped through the paper lanterns. Across from her, Sakura stirred her drink idly, her elbows on the table, while Naruto sat beside her, devouring his third bowl of ramen despite Sakura’s earlier warning that this was tea, not lunch.

“So…” Sakura leaned forward, eyes bright with interest. “I heard Hisaki-kun activated his Byakugan during training last week.”

Hinata smiled faintly. “Yes. It was… unexpected. He mastered chakra control faster than most adults. Even the elders are astonished.”

Naruto swallowed noisily. “That’s awesome! He’s gonna be amazing—just like his mom.”

Hinata’s cheeks colored. “Ah, Naruto-kun…”

Sakura’s grin widened. “And maybe like his new teacher too, hmm?”

Hinata blinked. “You mean… Kenji?”

“Who else?” Sakura’s tone was mischievous, her chin resting in her hand. “The mysterious ANBU captain with a calm voice and a mysterious past—every time I walk past the Hyuga compound, I swear I hear someone sighing.”

“Sakura!” Hinata’s voice was a mix of shock and embarrassment, her fingers tightening around her teacup.

Naruto frowned in confusion. “Wait, who’s sighing? The Hyuga people?”

Sakura rolled her eyes. “Never mind, Naruto.” Then, to Hinata, her grin softened. “I’m just saying, you trust him. You let him train your son. That means something, doesn’t it?”

Hinata’s gaze drifted to the street, where a pair of academy students were chasing each other, laughing. “Kenji-san is… kind. Hisaki listens to him. When he’s with him, it’s as if the world quiets down.”

Naruto slurped the last of his broth, glancing between them. “He’s the quiet, serious, but slightly laid-back type, right? Kinda reminds me of Kakashi-sensei, except taller and less late to everything.” Naruto nodded furiously as if in rich approval “and a hell lot less perverted too ya know.”

Sakura smirked. “Exactly. Stoic. Reliable. Polite. Definitely Hinata’s type.”

“S-Sakura…”

“What? You used to faint just from Naruto saying hi. I think you’ve outgrown that stage.”

Naruto blinked, chopsticks halfway to his mouth. “Wait—what’s that supposed to mean?”

Sakura ignored him completely, leaning closer. “Come on, admit it. You like him a little.”

Hinata’s hands fluttered nervously in her lap. “I—he’s… a good person. That’s all.”

Sakura’s teasing softened into something gentler. “Then let him be that. After everything you’ve carried, maybe it’s okay to let someone help you hold it.”

Hinata looked down at her cup, steam curling between her fingers. The words sank in deeper than she expected.

From somewhere down the street, a familiar voice called out—Kenji, giving instructions to a group of new patrol members near the gate. Calm, clear, steady.

Naruto waved. “Oi! Captain Kenji!”

Kenji looked over, nodded once in greeting. His eyes found Hinata’s, his head bowed slightly in greeting, lips slightly curved up, before turning back to continue conversation.

Hinata heard her pink-haired friend giggle. Sakura hid a smile behind her teacup. “Mm. Definitely your type.”

Hinata’s face turned crimson. “Sakura!”

Naruto blinked between them, utterly lost. “Wait—what did I miss?”

Sakura just sighed. “You’ll figure it out eventually, Naruto.”

Hinata, cheeks still pink, found herself glancing toward the street again—toward the man she’d trusted with her son’s training.

The thought that flickered unbidden in her mind startled her with its quiet certainty.

Maybe Sakura isn’t entirely wrong.

Chapter Text

The Hyuga Main Branch was composed of 8 families in total. The ruling family were descendants of Hiroto Hyuga, the eldest son of the first Hyuga clan head, Hideyoshi— who was the youngest son of Hamura Otsutsuki. The remaining 7 families were descendants of Hideyoshi’s remaining children. Only the eldest child of each of the 7 main branches may remain in the main house, the rest was to be sealed and regelated to the side family to protect the secret of the Byakugan. It was an age old tradition. One that had only been formally abolished when his mother took on the mantle as clan head. 

Hisaki knew from a young age that one day he would succeed his mother as clan head. Kaori told him that as his mother’s firstborn and only child, he would someday take her place. He was the eldest child, of the eldest child of the eldest child…all the way back to the days of his clan’s founding— it was the way of things. 

But Hisaki knew he was different. Many things set him apart from past heirs of the Hyuga. His mother was unmarried. His father was unknown. His mother was a female clan head— the first. And he looked different. And so everywhere he went, whispers followed him. He’d even heard servants in the hall speculating if he would ever awaken the Byakugan. A Hyuga heir without the Byakugan was a stain, a dark stain— something that in the eyes of many Hisaki was. 

But that was a few weeks ago. Now they no longer whispered, at least not as loudly as before. He had harnessed his clan’s kekkei genkai, he had shown excellent mastery of the basics of gentle fist. A few days ago he was a shame, now they called him a prodigy. He should’ve felt more proud. He felt accomplished— but the validation he received made him crave for more and more.

The whispers in the halls had quieted, and yet he felt as if the voices in his mind screamed even louder. Their words didn’t dampen or cut, it pushed, and pushed. It pushed. Even after three hours of practice and Uncle Neji’s grin of satisfaction and the elders’ gleam of pride— it never felt enough. 

Today was different. Stepping into the training hall, he saw his mother. She looked composed, regal, but warmth still radiated from her nonetheless. 

“Mama!” He called out, running over to remove the distance between them. He stopped. Kenji stood behind the pillar, his arms crossed, still in uniform, an arm went up to wave at him. Hisaki waved back, it was the first time Kenji would be observing him. He grinned at the older man, who reached down to pat his head, his eyes hooded into a smile.

”Hisaki” his mother called gently, beckoning him over, revealing another person. A boy, taller than him, older than him— by no more than 4 years. “This is Kouto, today he will be your training partner.” She explained calmly. Kenji’s presence, and a training partner threw Hisaki off-guard, he nodded, greeted the boy cheerily— and together they got into their Hyuga stance. Hisaki bent is body slightly, one hand extended forward unclenched, the other tucked back. He slid forward. 

Kouto was underwhelming. At least for Hisaki, with a swift deflection using his palm and a twist of his foot he was able to thrust the boy backwards, and make him nearly fall flat on his back. He should have stopped. But he didn’t. He darted forward again, his vision felt clouded, narrow, all he could see was the boy, recoiling, pale— desperately stumbling backwards with every palm strike sent his way. As Hisaki raised up two fingers for his final strike, a hand got a hold of his wrist. 

“Hisaki..”a voice called, sternly, reprimanding, desperate. He looked up. His mother stood like a wall, blocking him and Kouto. Her features twisted into something akin to disapproval, to disappointment. Her features softened as she turned around, helping Kouto unblock his chakra points, gently stroking his shoulder and muttering assuring words, before sending him away. Kouto ran. 

Chapter Text

Kenji stood in the training hall. Lady Hinata next to him. The sight they had witnessed surprised them both. But Kenji most of all. It unsettled him. And the fact that he found a boy like Hisaki unsettling also unsettled him. The boy whose eyes always lit up with such joy, whose fists always pumped up with such enthusiasm. Unsettling. 

After the shaken Hyuga boy was dismissed, after the elders and various observers shuffled out in murmurs— there were only three of them left in the room. 

His precise movements, fluid, graceful, focused. Typical Hyuga. But there was something more intense, fiery. Yes, fire, Kenji thought. Fire once tempered by joy and enthusiasm unleashed. Kenji looked at Hisaki again. He was still in his place, quiet. He looked up at Lady Hinata. He looked uncertain, hesitant, small..

Finally, after seconds that felt like eternity, she crouched down slightly, smoothing his hair, caressing his cheek, before resting her hand on his shoulder. “You did..” she said, slowly, as if measuring her words “well, go freshen up.” She sounded more clipped, tense, she smiled, her usual soft petal smile. Hisaki nodded, stalking off, his eyes laser-focused, determined to leave quickly— he didn’t even spare Kenji a glance.

Kenji let out a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding. “He’s extraordinary..” he said as evenly as he could. He looked at Lady Hinata, whose expression shifted into something akin to melancholy. She sighed.

”He is..” she said finally. “But he needs guidance, as you can see— desperately in fact.” She said pleadingly. Kenji walked towards her, “I did promise you to, and I can see now that he truly needs it, I can start tomorrow.” She nodded. “Thank you..” she stopped as if there was more, but then shook her head. She turned away, walking towards the door, leaving him alone in vast hall.

Chapter Text

Night in the Hyuga compound was quiet in a way that could be cruel. Every sound carried, the soft patter of the koi pond’s stream, the shuffle of sandals over polished wood, the whisper of wind through paper doors.

Hinata sat alone beneath the veranda, a cup of tea cooling between her hands. The moon’s reflection trembled faintly on the pond, fractured whenever a fish brushed the surface.

She had not expected Hisaki’s training to go the way it had. Pride and fear had warred in her chest the moment she’d seen that flash in his eyes — that flicker of something fierce, untamed. It reminded her too much of him.

Itachi.

The name drifted through her thoughts like a forbidden scent. Even after all these years, she could not think it without her heart tightening — not from pain anymore, but from memory that refused to soften.

She exhaled slowly, lifting the cup to her lips. The tea had gone cold.

The shōji door slid open behind her.

“Still awake?”

Kenji’s voice was quiet, carrying that same gentle composure that had become his habit.

Hinata turned slightly. He stood there, loose in posture but sharp-eyed even in the moonlight. The soft glow caught the faint scars on his hands — the kind you only got from ANBU work, the kind that never really faded.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she admitted. “Too many thoughts.”

He stepped closer, but not too close — always keeping a careful distance, as though he knew the space she needed and respected it. “About Hisaki?”

Hinata nodded.

“He’s exceptional,” Kenji said after a pause. “You should be proud.”

“I am.” Her voice wavered. “But I’m afraid too. He’s… so young, and already so aware. I don’t want him to carry too much of the world before he’s ready.”

Kenji leaned against the railing, hands clasped loosely in front of him. “That’s every parent’s fear, isn’t it? That their child will inherit too much of what came before.”

Hinata looked at him, startled by the quiet weight of his words.

He turned his gaze toward the moonlit pond. “When I saw him today — when he pushed too far, then stopped himself — I thought, he’s trying so hard not to disappoint you. He doesn’t even realize he’s already… more than anyone expects.”

Hinata’s chest tightened. “You see so much in him.”

Kenji gave a small smile. “He’s easy to see.”

Silence again. Only the trickle of the pond filled the air.

Then, softly, Hinata asked, “Why do you help him?”

Kenji blinked, faintly surprised. “Because he deserves it. Because you asked. Because…” He hesitated, as if searching for something deeper. “…Because he reminds me what this village should be protecting.”

Hinata lowered her gaze, unsure whether to thank him or apologize for dragging him into her world of ghosts and whispered rumors.

Kenji shifted slightly. “If it helps,” he said quietly, “you don’t have to carry everything alone, Hinata-sama.”

The way he said her name, formal yet soft, made her chest ache.

For a long moment, neither spoke. The night deepened, and a breeze rippled the pond, scattering the moon’s reflection into fragments.

Hinata finally whispered, “You remind me of someone I once knew.”

Kenji looked at her then, eyes unreadable. “Is that a good thing?”

Her lips curved into a faint, wistful smile. “Yes… and no.”

He accepted the answer with a nod.

When he left, the night seemed heavier, yet strangely gentler. Hinata sat a little longer, tracing the rim of her teacup, watching the ripples fade.

And for the first time in years, she whispered into the night,
“Thank you… for letting me live.”

The words weren’t meant for one man. They were meant for all the echoes that still lingered beneath the still water — and for the peace she was only just beginning to believe she deserved.

Chapter Text

Hinata realized that she might’ve been too harsh earlier. Seeing Hisaki’s face dropped as she reprimanded him— she was reminded of her own self. Years in that same training hall, trying not to burst into tears as she looked up at her father’s disapproving, disappointed stare. 

She entered silently into Hisaki’s bedroom, there he was, body spread on the futon, contorting into a shape similar to a shuriken. His face twisted into a frown, scowl, and pout at the same time. Hinata giggled. Hisaki’s head quickly whipped around, a faint blush colored his cheeks. 

She padded inside, kneeling down on the floor. Hisaki looked back up at her, his eyes, so round and innocent. “I’m sorry..” she began, “I might’ve come off as too harsh on you, I did not mean it that way.” She exhaled. “I’m proud of you son, so proud— my son— my heart.” She brushed his hair, the same colour as her, spikier on its split ends. They settled into silence. 

“I’m sorry Mama..” Hisaki said after a while “I didn’t mean to go that far, or hurt Kouto— I want to apologize to him tomorrow.” She smiled softly. “Of course my sweet, and it’s alright I understand.” She leaned in, kissing his forehead. “We all make rash, impulsive decisions— but it’s important to learn from it so that you will not hurt others.” Hisaki squeezed her hand tightly, his other hand reached out towards his toy. A stuffed weasel plushie. It had been a gift from Sasuke. “For your son..” he had said “I’m sorry, they have wronged him, me, and you. I will make it right— the village will..” she had cut him off before he uttered another treacherous word.

She remembered Sasuke, how his eyes were clouded with such guilt as he handed her the toy (something so trivial and sweet and seemingly incapable for the younger Uchiha she had always associated with bloodthirsty revenge) for his nephew— he had looked so much like Itachi then. She looked at her own son— the shame and ache in his dark eyes, he looks like them she realized. As heartless as it sounded, she could not decide whether or not that was a good thing. 

“You are wonderful, you have power Hisaki.” She said at last. “But you must learn not just to use it, but to control it— restrain it.” Hisaki nodded. “Thank you mama..” he mumbled rolling over as if ready to settle into deep sleep. She lingered for a while, but somehow found herself staying by his side for the whole night. 

Chapter Text

The courtyard was still wet with morning dew when Kenji arrived. The mist clung to the stones, softening the Hyuga compound’s white walls, and the air smelled faintly of camellias.

Hisaki was already there — barefoot, tiny hands clenched into determined fists, his short dark hair sticking out in uneven tufts. His dark eyes, somber and watchful, tracked Kenji as he approached.

“Good morning, Hisaki,” Kenji said evenly.

The boy bowed — too properly for his age, though he wobbled halfway through it. “Good morning, Kenji-san.” The formal address made Kenji wince. The clan training was already starting to mold him from the boy who begged endlessly to be lifted by Kenji, to someone more proper. 

Kenji crouched down so they were at eye level. “Just Kenji, for today. All right?”

Hisaki hesitated, then nodded, a little smile tugging at his mouth.

From the veranda, Hinata watched silently, her lavender robes brushing against the wooden railing. She had told herself she would only observe, not intervene, not hover — but her eyes followed every movement like a pulse.

Kenji stood, stepped back, and gestured toward the practice dummy. “We’ll start simple. Show me what your mother’s taught you.”

The boy nodded again. Then, astonishingly, his demeanor shifted — the bright child vanished, replaced by focus too sharp for someone barely three years old. He fell into stance, the Gentle Fist position clean, natural.

Kenji’s brows lifted slightly. Perfect form…

Hisaki struck. The first hit was clean. The second sharper. By the fourth, Kenji’s trained eyes caught it — the faint flicker of aggression behind the precision. A slight tightening of the shoulders. A flash, just beneath his calm.

Hinata saw it too. Her hands tightened around the folds of her sleeves.

The boy’s chakra pulse spiked — stronger, fiercer — and the training dummy cracked with the final strike.

Hisaki froze, breath short, eyes wide. Then, quietly, as though realizing he’d broken something sacred, he whispered, “I didn’t mean to hit it so hard…”

Kenji approached slowly, kneeling beside him. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

The boy looked up. “Mama says… the Gentle Fist shouldn’t hurt too much.”

Kenji studied the child for a moment. Then, carefully, he placed a hand on Hisaki’s shoulder. “Gentle doesn’t mean weak,” he said softly. “Power isn’t bad. It’s what you do with it that matters.”

The words made Hinata’s chest ache. It was the same phrase Itachi had once murmured to her long ago — almost word for word.

Hisaki blinked up at Kenji, as though memorizing every syllable. Then, after a moment, he whispered, “Okay… Kenji.” He broke out into a wide smile, his dark eyes shining brightly as if Kenji were the wisest and most magnificent man to ever live.

When Hinata dismissed training a little later, Hisaki ran ahead toward the koi pond, giggling again, splashing his fingers into the water. Hinata smiled. If only he could stay that innocent forever.

Chapter Text

Life in the Hyuga compound moved like the flow of water — serene on the surface, but full of unseen currents beneath.
Kenji had grown used to the hum of disciplined footsteps, the muted exchanges of servants, and the faint rustle of leaves brushing against the engawa outside.
It was a quiet world, one that might have suffocated another man.

For him, it was disarming.

He had spent so many years hidden behind porcelain masks, speaking only in code, living in silence not for peace but for survival.
Here, silence was something else — a language of its own. And Lady Hinata spoke it fluently.

She was waiting in the courtyard that afternoon, dressed in pale lavender. A breeze tugged at her hair as she watched Hisaki run through the forms he’d been taught.
Kenji stayed a respectful distance away, arms crossed, eyes tracing the child’s movements.
Even now, the boy’s precision startled him — his calm, his focus, his almost frightening awareness.

“Hisaki-kun improves with every session,” he said quietly.

Hinata turned slightly, her expression soft. “He listens to you,” she said. “He’s… happier when you’re nearby.”

That caught him off guard. “I doubt that’s true. He listens best to you.”

A faint smile curved her lips. “Maybe. But he tries harder when you watch.”

She didn’t mean it as anything more, he knew that. Yet something in the warmth of her voice lingered, a note he couldn’t shake.

When Hisaki’s training was done, the boy raced toward the koi pond, chattering about “showing the fish the Gentle Fist.”
Hinata followed to scold him lightly, and Kenji trailed behind, more to listen than to intervene.

Her laughter: rare, unguarded — broke the formality of the compound. It startled him, in the best way.

Later, when Hisaki had dozed off under the veranda, Hinata poured them both tea. The late afternoon light painted her face gold.

“You don’t rest much, Captain Kenji,” she said. “Even now, you seem… alert.”

He blinked, a little amused. “Force of habit. Hard to let your guard down when you’ve spent years expecting an ambush.”

Her gaze softened. “Then maybe this is the right place to learn how.”

The words hung between them, delicate, but steady.

For a long moment, they simply sat in the hush of cicadas and wind. The sound of Hisaki’s breathing filled the background, light and rhythmic.

Kenji found himself tracing the rim of his teacup, searching for something to say and finding nothing that would sound appropriate.
So he said the only thing that felt true.

“You make this place quieter,” he murmured. “But somehow… not empty.”

Hinata looked down, fingers brushing against her sleeve — the faintest sign of shyness. “That’s kind of you to say,” she whispered.

And when she lifted her gaze again, the air between them shifted — not with words, but with understanding.

Outside, the wind stirred the garden blossoms, scattering a few petals across the tatami.
Neither of them spoke again — but the silence that followed no longer felt like distance.

Chapter Text

By the time the last cicada song faded into dusk, Hisaki was asleep. Curled on the veranda with one arm tucked beneath his cheek, a smear of dust on his temple and a faint smile still caught in his lips.

Hinata brushed his hair back, the way she had since he was a baby.
The strands were darker now, not quite her shade, the same colour, but darker.

Kenji was still there, quiet as always, though the edges of his posture had softened.
He wasn’t the kind of man who demanded space; he simply occupied it.
And yet, ever since his assignment to the Hyuga compound, his presence had become a fixture in her days; steady, unobtrusive, oddly grounding.

When he’d spoken earlier — “You make this place quieter. But somehow… not empty.” — she hadn’t known how to respond.
The words had lingered long after he left, echoing in her chest like the faintest chime.

She knew what he’d meant. And she knew what she’d heard.

For years, her life had been defined by duty and restraint: the measured tone of council meetings, the delicate balance of clan politics, the constant weight of expectation.
Even motherhood, as joyful as it was, came with its own kind of vigilance.
But lately, she’d begun to notice how her breath changed when Kenji entered the room.
The stillness no longer felt suffocating. It felt… full.

She rose quietly, drawing a light blanket over Hisaki’s small frame before retreating inside. The lamplight was soft, golden, breathing warmth into the cool air.

Her reflection in the shōji window looked tired, older perhaps, but not fragile.
And she caught herself thinking: It’s been a long time since someone has looked at me and not seen a clan head first.

Kenji did.
He looked at her as if she were simply Hinata.

There had been other glances, of course — some curious, some pitying. Rumors had a way of clinging like dust to polished wood.
But he had never asked. Never probed.
He respected the silence around her and Hisaki as if it were sacred.

That… mattered more than she could admit aloud.

She walked toward the engawa again, drawn by habit. Kenji was gone now — his post resumed, his silhouette fading into the boundary shadows of the compound.
Still, she thought she could feel the echo of his presence — that quiet steadiness that somehow found its way past her defenses. 

Hinata folded her hands in her lap, looking out at the faint ripple of the pond under moonlight.

“Kenji…” she whispered, testing the sound of it. The name felt heavy and soft at once.

Somewhere inside, a memory stirred — of another time, another name spoken in the same tone, long ago in another life.

But she shook the though away before the treacherous thought could root too deep.

And as she rose to check on her sleeping son, the smallest smile curved her lips.
She would see Kenji again tomorrow.
It was enough to make her heart beat just a little quicker than before.

Chapter Text

The moon was bright tonight, full and soft, its light spilling over the Hyuga compound like a blessing that didn’t quite reach her heart.

From the courtyard, laughter floated upward, Hisaki’s, light and unrestrained. She leaned against the wooden frame of the engawa, watching him dart around the gravel path, his little feet padding across the stones as Kenji followed, feigning slow pursuit.

“Got you!” Kenji caught him at last, his hands gentle as he lifted the child and spun him around. Hisaki squealed, his laughter cutting through the still air like something pure.
The moonlight caught the boy’s dark hair, glinting faintly off his even darker eyes.

Hinata’s heart swelled and twisted all at once.

She should be happy. She was happy — at least, she tried to be.

The sight before her, Kenji’s quiet patience, Hisaki’s joy — should have been nothing but comforting. But the light of the moon was cruel in its honesty. It had watched her too many nights before, seen her waiting by this same engawa for someone who would never come home.

There had been nights like this one — hushed, silver, alive with secrets.
He would visit when the world slept, shadows clinging to him like old regrets. She had always waited, not out of duty, but hope.
He had been gentle in the way a storm is gentle before it breaks — quiet, restrained, carrying the weight of something she could never lift for him.

Under that same moon, he once brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear, his eyes soft in a way few ever saw.
“You are like the quiet in my sea of chaos,” he had murmured.
She had smiled, and for a moment, believed him.

Hinata closed her eyes now, exhaling through the ache.
Hisaki’s laughter rang again, pulling her back to the present.
When she looked, Kenji was crouched beside him, guiding the boy’s hand to trace constellations in the sky.

“That one’s the crane,” Kenji said. “And that one—”
“The fox!” Hisaki chimed proudly.
Kenji smiled. “Close enough.”

The warmth of the scene pierced her, too real, too kind.
It was everything she’d once wished for with Itachi: a man who would laugh beside their child, not vanish into the dark.

And yet… that same wish made her feel hollow.

Her hand tightened around the railing.
Guilt rippled through her, sharp, unrelenting.
Because a part of her wished, selfishly, that it was Itachi there in Kenji’s place.
That the laughter belonged to him — the man she had loved, mourned, and still carried like a secret scar.

The moonlight blurred as her vision trembled.

Kenji glanced toward her then, sensing something in her stillness.
Their eyes met across the distance. His expression was unreadable: steady, calm, tinged with something almost tender.

Hinata looked away first.

Hisaki ran toward her, arms wide, still laughing. She bent to catch him, his small body warm against her chest, numbing the ache in her heart. Kenji followed, slower, the faintest smile touching his lips.

“He’s stubborn,” he said softly. “Didn’t want to come in.”
Hinata managed a quiet laugh. “He takes after his father.”

The words slipped out before she could stop them. Subconsciously both her hands flung up to cover her mouth.
Kenji’s gaze flickered — not in suspicion, but something gentler, curious.

“Does he?”

Hinata hesitated. The air was thick with things unspoken.

She forced a small smile. “In ways I can’t explain.”

Kenji nodded, accepting that with the same quiet respect that had defined him since he arrived.
He reached out and adjusted Hisaki’s collar; a simple, paternal gesture — and something in her chest fractured just a little more.

When she looked back at the sky, the moon was high — the same moon that once bathed her and Itachi in impossible dreams.

Hinata pressed her lips to Hisaki’s forehead, closing her eyes as the ache settled deep within her.

Under the same moon, she thought, how cruel it is to love twice.

Chapter Text

The night air was colder than it looked. Kenji could feel the chill seeping through his sleeves as he leaned against one of the wooden pillars of the Hyuga courtyard. The lanterns had burned low, their faint orange glow swallowed by the moonlight that silvered everything it touched.

Across the yard, Lady Hinata sat on the engawa with Hisaki in her arms. The boy had fallen asleep, small fingers curled into the fabric of her robe, face pressed against her shoulder.

Kenji had seen the same sight a hundred times now, but tonight it felt different. Maybe it was the silence. Maybe it was the way she was looking at the moon — as though she were waiting for something, or someone, who would never return.

He’d seen that expression before.
On the faces of widows.
On comrades who had lost more than they could speak of.
He knew it too well to mistake it for anything else.

She wasn’t just looking at the moon. She was remembering.

He lowered his gaze, shame prickling through him at the thought. It wasn’t his place to notice — not like this. He was an outsider, a guest under her clan’s roof, a man assigned to guard the safety of the Hyuga clan head and her young son. And yet every day that line blurred.

He hadn’t meant to grow attached. To Hisaki, and especially not to her.

But the boy’s laughter had a way of cutting through the noise in his head, the kind that ANBU missions left behind. And Lady Hinata — she had a stillness about her that unsettled him, because it wasn’t emptiness. It was endurance.The quiet kind that could carry the weight of a clan, a child, and a thousand unspoken memories.

Kenji had spent his life surrounded by steel, orders, masks.
With her, everything felt fragile.
He hated how much he wanted to protect that fragility — even from things she’d already survived.

His gaze drifted back to her.
Her hair caught the moonlight like ink spilled across snow.
Her face — calm, distant — softened as she looked down at the sleeping boy.

There was affection there, unmistakable.
But there was grief, too.
Something that didn’t belong to him, something he could never touch.

Kenji exhaled slowly.
He’d heard whispers, of course — the rumors that trailed her since before he’d arrived. About the child, about the war, about an impossible connection that the village refused to let die.

He wondered what that man had been to her.
And what it meant that she still carried him so quietly.

Hisaki stirred then, murmuring something incoherent before nestling closer to her.
Kenji stepped forward without thinking, adjusting the blanket around the child’s shoulders.
Their hands brushed — a fleeting touch.

Lady Hinata glanced up, startled. Their eyes met.
For a heartbeat, the air between them stilled.
He saw the glimmer of tears she hadn’t let fall.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Kenji shook his head. “You don’t have to—”

“I do,” she said softly, almost cutting him off. “For everything. For being here.”

He wanted to tell her it was nothing — that he was only doing his duty.
But the words refused to come, because even he didn’t believe them anymore.

He looked down at the boy, then back at her.
And for the first time in years, he let himself admit it, the quiet, dangerous truth growing in the corners of his heart:

He was falling in love with someone who still belonged, in part, to an unknown ghost.

And yet… he couldn’t bring himself to leave.

The night settled around them like a secret neither could speak. Kenji turned his eyes to the moon, its light cold against his skin.
He’d spent his life serving under it — in the dark, in silence, with only duty to keep him company.

But tonight, for the first time, he felt its light reach him.
Not warm, but enough.

Enough to make him hope.

Chapter Text

The Hokage’s office always smelled faintly of ink and wind. Scrolls lay half-open across the desk, paperweights shaped like dogs holding them in place.
Kenji stood at attention, posture straight, while Kakashi leaned back in his chair — one eye half-lidded, the other hidden behind his forehead protector, as though even he found paperwork too exhausting to fully look at.

“You were assigned to the Hyuga compound three months ago,” Kakashi said, his voice light but not careless. “I trust there have been no security breaches.”

“None, Hokage-sama.”

“Good. And Lady Hinata?”

“Efficient. Diligent. Cooperative,” Kenji replied, every syllable clipped to regulation tone.

Kakashi hummed, the sound suspiciously close to a chuckle. He set down the scroll he’d been reading and looked up at him, silver hair catching the morning light. “Cooperative, hmm? You make it sound like you’re writing a field report on a kunai.”

Kenji stiffened. “I meant no disrespect, sir.”

“None taken. But you’ll forgive me if I’m curious about the details you’ve omitted.”

Kenji blinked. “Sir?”

“Oh, come now,” Kakashi said, waving one hand lazily, “a man doesn’t stay on domestic assignment this long without… observations.”

The phrasing was deceptively casual. But Kenji had served long enough under him to know the trap when he heard one.
Still, he fell for it.

“Lady Hinata is… capable,” he said slowly. “Her leadership is measured. Her focus is—”

Kakashi tilted his head. “And her smile?”

Kenji faltered. “...Sir?”

“Her smile,” Kakashi repeated, and though his tone was mild, the eye visible above the mask gleamed with unmistakable amusement. “I’ve heard from certain reliable sources—namely Sakura—that she smiles more often lately. Some might even say it’s because a certain ANBU captain has been spending too much time in her courtyard.”

Kenji felt heat crawl up the back of his neck. “With respect, sir, those rumors are unfounded.”

“Of course they are,” Kakashi said with mock seriousness. “As are the ones about a certain three-year-old who refuses to let anyone else carry him to bed but that same ANBU captain.”

Kenji inhaled slowly, exhaled even slower. “Hisaki is—”

“—a child who likes you. I know.” Kakashi leaned forward, elbows resting on his desk. “But tell me something, Kenji. Do you like them?”

The question hung in the air, quiet but impossibly heavy.

Kenji opened his mouth, but the words failed him.
He could feel the weight of duty pressing against his chest — the thousand reasons he shouldn’t answer, shouldn’t even think about it.
And yet, beneath it all, the truth whispered stubbornly.

“I… respect them,” he managed.

Kakashi’s visible eye crinkled. “Respect. Right. And when you stand under the moonlight with them, when you look at Lady Hinata holding that boy, when you realize you’ve stopped sleeping properly because of it… that’s respect?”

Kenji’s throat tightened.
He wanted to deny it, to hide behind the discipline that had carried him through years of shadow work.
But Kakashi’s tone wasn’t mocking anymore.

It was gentle. Almost sad.

“You’re not the first ANBU to come back from a mission and forget how to live,” Kakashi said softly. “But you might be the first to remember because of someone else’s peace.”

Kenji said nothing.

“She’s been through enough ghosts,” Kakashi continued quietly. “If you’re going to stay in her orbit, be certain you’re not another one.”

Kenji bowed his head, the only reply he could manage.

Kakashi smiled faintly, pulling another stack of papers toward him. “Dismissed, Captain. Oh, and Kenji—”

He paused at the door.

“Next time you submit a report,” Kakashi said without looking up, “try not to sound so… emotionally constipated. Makes the paperwork dull.”

Kenji almost smiled. Almost.

He stepped into the sunlight outside the office, the words another ghost echoing in his mind.

He’d thought duty was simple: protect, obey, endure.
But now…
He wasn’t sure where duty ended and something deeper began.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

The rain had started before dawn, a soft, persistent drizzle that clung to their cloaks and blurred the edges of the trees around them. Shikamaru led the way through the narrow forest path, his hands tucked into his vest pockets, his expression unreadable as ever.

“We’re close,” he murmured, scanning the faint smoke rising through the mist. “Scouts from the Land of Stone said a missing-nin cell’s been raiding supply routes. We confirm, report, and neutralize if necessary.”

Ino wrung rainwater from her ponytail with a groan. “Why do they always pick the dampest, muddiest places to hide?”

Hinata smiled faintly, activating her Byakugan. The forest peeled open before her: trees, roots, the faint outlines of small figures moving in the distance. Her voice softened but firmed with focus. “Two ahead. Another higher on the ridge. None appears to have backup.”

“Perfect,” Shikamaru said. “We move at your signal.”

The encounter was brief.
Three rogue shinobi, barely coordinated and ill-prepared for Konoha’s level of precision. Hinata coiled her chakra through her palms like silk through glass. The last enemy lunged clumsily; she sidestepped, pressed her hand gently against his shoulder, and his chakra points sealed with a single, quiet motion.

The silence afterward was deep and sudden.
Only the rain and the soft sound of their breathing filled it.

Ino exhaled. “Still got it.”

They set up camp beneath a cliffside, the rain easing to a whisper.
Ino leaned back on her bedroll. “You ever think about how much has changed? We used to be the ones being sent on these missions by our sensei. Now we’re the ones making the reports.”

Shikamaru smirked faintly. “And lecturing the next generation for skipping drills.”

Hinata smiled. “Hisaki pretends not to listen, but… he absorbs everything.”

Ino’s grin widened. “He’s a genius, huh? Sakura says he’s already sharper than some genin. Maybe he’ll end up running circles around everyone, like Neji used to.”

“Yes,” she said quietly. “He’s gifted. But sometimes… I worry. His strength grows so quickly, and there’s a part of him I can’t quite read. It’s as though… there’s something deeper in his chakra. A shadow I don’t understand, a shadow I fear I can't catch up with until it's too late.”

Shikamaru looked up from his notepad, expression thoughtful. “That’s why Kenji’s helping with his training, isn’t it?”

Hinata hesitated. “Yes. He’s patient with him. Careful.”

“Good,” Shikamaru said simply. “You need someone like that around.”

Ino’s voice softened. “And what about you? Do you have someone like that, Hinata?”

The question hung in the air.
Hinata didn’t answer right away — not because she didn’t know, but because she wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

The fire crackled softly, throwing shadows against her face.
She thought of Kenji, the way he looked at Hisaki, the quiet reverence in his tone when he spoke to her. The way, despite his guardedness, he seemed to understand her silence better than most.

Her pulse quickened.
She turned away from the fire, pretending to adjust her weapons pouch.

Ino’s smirk was subtle. “I’ll take that as a maybe.”

Later that night, Hinata kept watch. The rain had stopped, and the forest gleamed under the moonlight. Her thoughts drifted — toward home, toward the compound that would still be awake with its own quiet rhythm.

She could almost picture it: Hisaki kneeling in the courtyard, practicing his forms beneath the old tree, Kenji’s patient voice guiding him through each motion.

She smiled faintly.

She exhaled, a whisper lost to the night.
I hope you can see him, Itachi. Our Hisaki.

The wind rustled through the leaves in reply — soft, almost like an acknowledgment.

Chapter Text

When they returned to Konoha two days later, the air was warmer, the streets alive with early spring blossoms.

Kenji was waiting at the compound gates, as he often did when assigned near home. Hisaki perched on his shoulders, waving wildly the moment he spotted her.

Hinata’s heart leaped. The sight of them, framed by sunlight, so achingly familiar and new all at once.

“Welcome back,” Kenji said, his tone even but his eyes alight. “You must be tired.”

“Just a little,” she said softly, smiling. “Thank you… for looking after him.”

Kenji shifted Hisaki carefully into her arms. His hand brushed hers for the briefest moment.

And this time, she didn’t look away.
Not quickly. Not shyly. Instead, she smiled. 

Chapter Text

It began with something simple, tea.

The evening air still carried the chill of early spring, but the compound courtyard was bathed in moonlight. Lanterns flickered along the veranda, their warm glow falling across polished wood.

Kenji stood there, freshly returned from patrol, removing his gloves with habitual precision. He looked tired. Not worn, but steady, as if exhaustion had become a companion he had long accepted.

“Kenji-san,” Hinata called softly from the doorway.

He turned, his dark eyes lifting to hers. “Hinata-sama. You’re still awake?”

She hesitated, then smiled, small, but genuine. “I made tea… I thought…perhaps…y-you’d like some before resting?”

He blinked, the faintest surprise crossing his face before he inclined his head. “I’d be honored.”

They sat across from one another beneath the veranda’s soft light. The teapot between them steamed gently, the faint scent of jasmine curling upward like breath.

For a long moment, neither spoke. The silence wasn’t awkward, merely careful, like something fragile they both wanted to protect.

Hinata poured his cup. “You’ve been watching over the compound a lot lately,” she said, her voice quiet. “You don’t have to take every shift.”

Kenji gave a faint smile. “Habit, I suppose. I used to find comfort in the watchtower. It’s… quieter than most places.”

Hinata looked down, fingers tracing the rim of her cup. “I used to feel that way about the training grounds at night.” “You must miss it,” she said softly. “The field. The team.”

Kenji’s gaze softened. “Sometimes. But… not as much as I thought I would.”

There was something in the way he said it, low, unguarded, that made her heartbeat stutter.

She set her cup down carefully, afraid her trembling fingers would betray her. “I—um… I wanted to thank you. For looking after Hisaki. He’s very fond of you.”

Kenji’s expression gentled. “He’s a remarkable child. You’ve raised him well.”

She shook her head. “Not alone.”

The words escaped before she could stop them.
He looked at her, and for a moment, the air between them seemed to shift.

It wasn’t a confession. Not yet. But it was close.

She could feel her pulse in her throat. “You’re… kind to him. To us.”

Kenji held her gaze for a heartbeat longer, then looked away. “It’s not kindness,” he murmured. “It’s… what feels right.”

Hinata’s breath caught. There was weight in his tone, quiet, restrained emotion, the kind that didn’t need to be spoken to be felt.

The silence lingered again, not empty, but filled with everything neither dared to say.

A breeze stirred, brushing through her hair. She turned toward him, and for once, didn’t shy away from the closeness.

Her voice trembled, but she smiled anyway. “Then… maybe, you’ll stay for tea again tomorrow?”

Kenji’s answer came after a long moment.
“I would like that,” he said softly.

Chapter Text

The moonlight followed him even after he left the Hyuga compound.

It pooled over the rooftops, pale and watchful, just as her gaze had been when she smiled across the teapot. He hadn’t meant to stay as long as he did, but somehow, he always lingered there longer than intended.

His footsteps were soundless on the narrow street, the habits of the ANBU still clinging to him like shadow. Yet tonight, stealth felt unnecessary. The village was quiet. He was the one who couldn’t be.

Every time he blinked, he saw the steam curling between them. The soft curve of Lady Hinata’s hands around her cup, the flicker of lantern light on her hair, the moment her voice wavered when she’d said, “Not alone.”

Kenji exhaled. He’d been trained to read subtlety, the shift of a shoulder, the tremor of a breath. But he’d never learned how to read hope.

And that’s what he’d seen tonight. Fragile, dangerous hope.

He reached the ANBU outpost near the edge of the village. The guards saluted as he entered, but he waved them off. Inside, the office lights were low, and the only one still awake was Ram.

His colleague looked up from a stack of reports. “You’re back late,” Ryota remarked.

Kenji offered a short nod. “Security check at the Hyuga compound.”

“Ah.” His fellow ANBU leaned back in his chair, the single syllable drawn out, knowing. “How’s Lady Hyuga doing?”

Kenji hesitated. “…She’s well.”

“Mm. And the little Hyuga?”

“Stronger every day.”

His tone turned sly. “And you, Tiger? How are you doing?”

Kenji stiffened. “I don’t follow.”

“Of course not,” his friend said mildly, closing his book. “You just happen to spend most of your free hours guarding the same courtyard, teaching the same child, and drinking tea with the same clan head under the same moonlight. Completely procedural.”

Kenji frowned. “You’re implying something unnecessary.”

“I’m implying something obvious,” Ryota corrected. “You’re not as unreadable as you think.”

Kenji turned away, jaw tightening. “It’s not like that.”

“Isn’t it?”

He didn’t answer. Kenji looked down at his hands. The faint scent of jasmine still clung to his uniform.

He didn’t know how to explain the pull he felt. Not desire, not yet, but gravity. A slow drift toward something he thought he had long forgotten how to want.

“I’m her guard,” he said finally, voice low. “That’s all.”

Ryota hummed sing-songly. “If you say so.”

The silence stretched. Kenji turned to leave, but before he reached the door, Ryota added softly,

“Be careful, Kenji. When people like us find peace, we tend to mistake it for something temporary. Don’t.”

Kenji didn’t reply. Walking towards his apartment with only the flickering road lamps and moon illuminating the path— he decided that ne never wanted to leave this light. 

Chapter Text

Morning sunlight spilled across the engawa, soft and golden, catching on the white petals scattered by the breeze. Hinata knelt beside the low table, her hands absently arranging documents that had already been read twice over.

Her thoughts, however, refused to settle.

Every time she blinked, she saw the faint steam rising from the teacups the night before, the reflection of moonlight on Kenji’s armor, the way his voice had lowered when he’d said her name.

She’d told herself it was only gratitude. He’d been steadfast, kind to Hisaki, patient with the clan.
And yet… she hadn’t been able to sleep.

Hisaki’s laughter from the garden drew her attention. The boy was chasing a butterfly, small hands reaching clumsily for the flicker of yellow wings. His laughter was bright, honest, a quiet joy that lived despite the weight of silence.

But when Kenji stepped into the sunlight, dark hair slightly disheveled, armor partially undone — Hisaki forgot the butterfly entirely and sprinted toward him.

“Kenji!”

Hinata watched as the man knelt, catching the boy effortlessly, murmuring something that made Hisaki laugh again.

The sound struck something deep in her chest.
Warmth. Guilt. Confusion. 

And that terrified her. Because part of her wanted to reach for it.

“Lady Hinata,” Kenji greeted as he approached, Hisaki perfectly perched on his shoulders. “Forgive us — I hope we’re not interrupting.”

She smiled faintly, shaking her head. “Not at all. It’s… nice to see him smiling like this.”

Kenji’s eyes softened. “He has your patience,” he said quietly. “But not your gentleness.”

The words lingered between them, almost too heavy for the morning air.
Hinata busied herself with the scrolls, but she felt the warmth and heat rising in her face.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

Kenji inclined his head and set Hisaki down. The boy ran back toward the garden, but not before glancing back, smiling in a way that made her heart twist, as though he already sensed something unspoken between them.

When Kenji finally turned to leave, she caught herself saying softly, “Kenji—”

He paused.

“Would you… join us for dinner tonight? Hisaki asked if you would.”

A small smile curved his lips, that rare, almost imperceptible one that reached his eyes. “I’d be honored.”

As he walked away, the soft rustle of his cloak faded down the corridor. Hinata sat still for a long moment.

Lingering still was the faint laughter of her son in the garden, and the echo of a man’s footsteps that didn’t belong to a ghost.

Chapter Text

The Hyuga household was uncharacteristically warm that night.
Soft lamplight spilled across the tatami floors, carrying the faint scent of miso and ginger. The steady rhythm of chopsticks and gentle laughter filled the air — something rare, fragile, and strangely precious.

Kenji sat across from Hinata and Hisaki, still slightly awkward without his armor, his dark hair damp from a quick wash. Hisaki had insisted that he stay for dinner, and Kenji, usually composed and reserved, had agreed with a nod that felt heavier than words.

Now, watching the two of them, Hinata found herself smiling. Hisaki had insisted on sitting beside Kenji, tugging at his sleeve every time he wanted to show off a new story, a drawing, a half-remembered jutsu.

Kenji, for his part, listened to every word. Not with forced politeness, but with real patience. When Hisaki demonstrated a clumsy hand seal, Kenji corrected it gently, guiding the small fingers into place.

“There,” he said softly, voice low but steady. “Now try again.”

The boy grinned and did, the chakra spark faint but visible.

Hinata’s breath caught.
At three years old, Hisaki was already showing remarkable control. Neji had been right, the boy’s potential surpassed what anyone expected.

But it wasn’t just the talent. It was the look in Kenji’s eyes, that quiet pride that mirrored her own.

And for a fleeting, dangerous moment, she imagined this scene as something ordinary.
A family dinner.
A simple life.

“Mama,” Hisaki said suddenly, turning toward her. “Kenji-san eats like you — neat and quiet. Are you sure you’re not family already?”

Hinata froze, chopsticks midway to her mouth. Kenji blinked, visibly taken aback. Then Hisaki added, with innocent brightness, “You both smile the same too.”

Silence stretched, long enough for the cicadas outside to fill it.

Kenji chuckled faintly, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re too observant for your age, Hisaki.”

Hinata managed a soft laugh, though her cheeks were flushed. “He… notices everything.”

Hisaki nodded seriously, as though this were a great truth. “Because I want to be like Uncle Neji. But I also like Kenji-san. He feels…” The boy trailed off, frowning slightly, searching for words.
“...warm. Like the sun after rain.”

Kenji looked away, eyes shadowed by something unreadable.
Hinata couldn’t speak. The air had thickened — too full, too fragile.

“Thank you, Hisaki,” Kenji said at last, voice gentle. “That means a great deal.”

The boy beamed, satisfied, and returned to his food as though he hadn’t just shifted the balance of an entire room.

Hinata tried to focus on her bowl, but her heart felt too loud. Every sound — the rustle of his sleeves, the quiet breath he took before speaking — settled deep beneath her ribs.

When the dishes were cleared and Hisaki had fallen asleep on her lap, Kenji helped tidy the table in silence.

“Thank you for dinner,” he said, folding the last cloth neatly. “It was… peaceful.”

“Peaceful,” Hinata echoed. “Yes.”

But neither of them moved to leave. The night hummed softly between them, the kind of silence that wasn’t empty, but charged with everything unsaid.

Kenji finally spoke, his tone low, careful. “He’s remarkable, my lady. Your boy. His focus, his chakra control, it’s beyond anything I’ve seen in one so young. You’ve done well.”

She shook her head. “No. It isn’t me. He… he just understands things too quickly.”

Kenji’s gaze lingered on her. “He’s a reflection of you, whether you believe it or not.”

And in that moment — with the moonlight spilling across his face, the faint scent of rain through the open shoji — Hinata felt her heart tighten and pound at the same time.

When Kenji finally turned to go, Hinata whispered, barely audible, “Kenji.”

He looked back.

Her lips parted, but no words came. Only a faint tremor of breath, a question she couldn’t yet ask.

He gave her a small, knowing smile, and bowed his head. “Good night, Hinata.”

The shoji slid shut, leaving her alone with the quiet rise and fall of her son’s breathing.

And for the first time in years, Hinata pressed a hand to her chest and let herself admit what she’d been denying all along.
It wasn’t just gratitude anymore.
It hadn’t been for some time.

Chapter Text

Hisaki

The morning sunlight slipped through the garden trees, scattering gold across the stones. Hisaki crouched at the pond’s edge, a stick in hand, tracing circles in the water.

Kenji had promised to show him a new form today. Something about stillness and breath, but he hadn’t arrived yet. Hisaki didn’t mind waiting; he liked how quiet it was before everyone started talking.

The fish darted beneath the surface, silver tails flashing. Hisaki tilted his head, imagining what they were whispering about. Maybe they too talked about names, like the people in the halls did.

“Strange eyes,” he’d heard once. “Too sharp for a Hyuga child.”

He didn’t really understand. Eyes were just eyes, weren’t they? His were dark, not white like most of his family’s. Mama said they were beautiful, just different. But sometimes, when he used the Byakugan, he felt something coil behind the light — something deeper, heavier, almost sad.

He didn’t tell her that part.

He leaned closer to the pond, trying to see that reflection in the water, the one that sometimes didn’t look fully like him— or his mother’s.

A soft rustle made him look up. Kenji stood a few feet away, hands tucked loosely into his uniform pants, expression calm but faintly amused.

“Morning, Hisaki,” he said.

“Kenji!” Hisaki brightened immediately, springing up. “You’re late.”

Kenji raised an eyebrow. “Am I?”

“Yes! You said after breakfast. It’s after breakfast.” His brows furrowed in contemplation, lips pouted in mock exhaustion from the “wait”. 

Kenji pretended to consider this, then crouched down beside him. “I stand corrected.”

The boy giggled, the earlier shadows forgotten. He always did around Kenji.

“Are we training?”

“Not today,” Kenji said. “Today we’re learning how to wait.”

“Wait?” Hisaki wrinkled his nose. “That’s boring.”

Kenji’s eyes softened. “Patience isn’t boring. It’s what gives strength shape.”

Hisaki pouted. Then, noticing the gentle curve of Kenji’s smile, something inside him eased. He liked that smile, quiet and sure, like the one he remembered from dreams.

When Kenji reached out to fix the tilt of his collar, Hisaki stilled. He couldn’t explain it, but in that moment, it felt like warmth and safety, the kind he didn’t remember ever having before.

He didn’t know that far away, behind the main hall, his mother was fighting a different kind of storm.

Hinata

The Hyuga council room was cold even in summer.

The elders sat in neat, unforgiving rows, their pale eyes fixed on her with the weight of generations. Hinata sat before them, the Clan Head, her posture straight, her hands folded — but her heart beat unevenly beneath the formal robes.

“Lady Hinata,” one of the older women began, her tone clipped. “We’ve received repeated… observations. About your growing association with Captain Kenji Arata.”

The name landed like a quiet stone in still water.

Hinata inclined her head slightly. “Kenji-san has been assisting with compound security and training Hisaki.”

“Indeed,” said another, his voice edged. “A role that does not typically require nightly visits, private meals, or shared correspondence outside mission briefs.”

Hinata’s breath caught. “Our discussions are professional—”

“Are they?” interrupted Elder Shiro. “Your behavior, Lady Hinata, has invited speculation. Already, the servants whisper. Already, rumors reach beyond our walls, linking your child’s unusual traits to an outsider.”

The word outsider carried a quiet venom that made her stomach twist.

She lowered her gaze, feeling that familiar blend of shame and defiance rise in her chest. “Kenji-san has served Konoha with honor. His guidance benefits the clan.”

A brittle silence followed.

Finally, the woman spoke again, softer but no less cutting. “You bear the burden of the Hyuga name, child. Sentiment is a luxury you cannot afford. We ask that your… involvement with this man be tempered. For Hisaki’s sake. And for yours.”

Her heart hammered. For a moment, she saw flashes, the way Kenji smiled when Hisaki laughed, the quiet warmth of his presence beside her under the moonlight — and overlaying that, another face. Dark hair. Guilt-ridden eyes. Itachi.

Both ghosts and living men seemed to stand before her, and she didn’t know which one she was betraying more.

She bowed low, her voice quiet but steady. “I understand.”

When the elders dismissed her, she stepped out into the open air, the sunlight striking too bright against her eyes.

Kenji was waiting in the courtyard, Hisaki laughing as he tried to mimic his stance.

For a heartbeat, the sight made her want to smile, then the words of the council returned like a weight across her shoulders.

She stood there, watching them, her son and the man who had unknowingly steadied her heart — and felt the ache of impossible balance: between duty and desire, past and present, shadow and light.

Chapter Text

 Kenji

Kenji stood just beyond the walkway that connected the council hall to the east garden, hands loosely clasped behind his back. The meeting had ended half an hour ago, but the tension inside the air still clung to the stone corridors like smoke.

He hadn’t meant to overhear.
He’d only been waiting, Hisaki had run ahead to fetch a wooden shuriken he’d dropped, and Kenji had lingered, idly glancing toward the council chamber when the doors cracked open.

He heard her voice first.
Soft, calm, but frayed at the edges.

“…my association with Kenji-san has been entirely professional…”

Then the tone of another — old, clipped, dry.
“…rumors… conduct unbecoming… whispers that reach beyond our walls…”

The rest blurred into static.

Kenji had heard enough.

He turned sharply away, walking until the voices faded behind the paper screens. He stopped in the courtyard’s shadow, forcing a breath past the tightness in his chest.

So that’s what it was, then.
The glances from the elders. The subtle coldness at briefings. The way Hinata sometimes paused before saying his name, like she was measuring how much weight it carried in the air.

He had seen that look before, in officers who wanted to maintain dignity after scandal, in comrades torn between feeling and responsibility. But seeing it in her… it hit differently.

He’d spent his life learning how to move unseen, how to silence emotion until it obeyed. But this— this unfamiliar ache— refused to listen.

He thought of Hisaki then, the boy’s laughter when he’d been lifted into the air just yesterday. Of how easily the child’s trust came, how instinctively he reached for him.
Kenji clenched his jaw.

It wasn’t right to stay close, not now. Not if it brought whispers upon them.

When Lady Hinata appeared in the garden moments later, he straightened. She looked composed — too composed — her smile small but practiced.

“Kenji,” she said, bowing slightly. “You didn’t have to wait.”

He returned the gesture, his voice calm. “I wanted to ensure the area was clear. I’ll return to my post.”

Her eyes flickered, something unspoken caught behind them. “I see.”

For a moment, they simply stood there, the silence between them filled with everything they couldn’t say.

“Please inform Hisaki,” Kenji said at last, “that I may not be available for training tomorrow.”

“Understood.”

He turned before she could see the crack in his composure. The warmth that had begun to root itself quietly within him — the ease of laughter, the glances that lingered longer than duty required — he buried it, step by step, beneath layers of discipline.

He told himself it was for her sake.
He didn’t realize how much it would hurt to mean it.

 Hisaki

Hisaki noticed it before anyone said a word.

Kenji wasn’t smiling as much.

He still came to the training grounds, still corrected Hisaki’s stance or praised his form — but his tone was softer now, almost careful, like he was afraid of being too close.

Even Mama seemed different. When Kenji entered a room, she would straighten her robes or find some quiet reason to leave early. Their voices, once warm like candlelight, were now cold as glass.

At three years old, Hisaki didn’t understand the words people whispered, but he understood distance. It clung to the air like winter fog.

That night, when the compound had gone quiet, Hisaki sat on the engawa, hugging his knees. The moonlight caught the pale tips of his fingers — still trembling faintly from the day’s training.

He felt someone’s chakra approaching — steady, familiar.

“Hisaki?”

Neji crouched beside him, his usual sternness softened. “You should be asleep.”

The boy didn’t look up. “Neji-ojisan… did I do something wrong?”

Neji blinked. “What makes you think that?”

“Kenji-san doesn’t smile anymore.” Hisaki’s voice wavered. “And Mama… looks sad. I thought maybe… I wasn’t good.”

The words hit Neji harder than he expected. He exhaled slowly, then rested a hand on the boy’s head. “You are good, Hisaki. None of this is because of you.”

“Then why is it like this?”

Neji looked out toward the courtyard, where faint light glowed in Hinata’s window. “Sometimes,” he said quietly, “grown-ups carry things too heavy to share. They think it protects others. But it can make the people who love them worry.”

Hisaki frowned, not fully understanding, but he nodded anyway. “I don’t like when they’re far away.”

Neji’s eyes softened. “Neither do they.”

The boy looked up at the moon — the same pale silver his mother used to gaze at when she thought no one noticed.

“I’ll make them smile again,” Hisaki whispered, determination bright in his small voice. “You’ll see.”

Neji smiled faintly. “You might just be the only one who can.”

Chapter Text

Hinata

The Hyuga compound had always been quiet after sunset, but lately, the silence felt heavy—like a weight pressing against the shoji doors. Hinata sat in her private study, the dim lamplight soft against scrolls and mission reports. Outside, cicadas whispered, the only sound between her thoughts.

She tried to read, but her eyes kept drifting to the corner of the desk, a folded training report with Kenji’s handwriting.

Efficient, precise, and impersonal. It hadn’t always been that way.

Her fingers brushed the edge of the parchment. There had been a time when his notes carried faint warmth, small remarks praising Hisaki’s focus or neat sketches of alternate forms. Lately, though, the words had turned rigid. Detached.

Just like him.

A week had passed since the council meeting.
A week since she’d seen him in the garden, bowing with that careful distance in his eyes.

And though no words had been said, Hinata knew exactly why.
The elders had made themselves clear enough.
“Dignity,” they’d said. “Boundaries.”

She told herself it was for the clan’s stability. That the whispers would fade if she simply kept her composure. But each time she saw Hisaki’s small face fall when Kenji left too early, or when the man avoided looking at her during sparring review, something inside her ached. Something visceral 

She’d told herself she’d learned to live with ache.
She had before.

But this one was different.

This ache felt alive.

Her thoughts wandered, to Kenji’s quiet smile, to how he’d always lower his head slightly when she spoke, as if listening was an act of reverence.
And she thought of Itachi, how he used to watch the moon in silence, his presence soft but sure. 

She remembered the last weeks of their meetings, when he started pulling away. 

It was wrong to compare them. She knew that.
And yet…

“Mama?”

She startled slightly, Hisaki stood at the door, rubbing his eyes, hair tousled from sleep.

“Hisaki,” she murmured, rising to kneel beside him. “You should be in bed.”

“I couldn’t sleep.” He hesitated, then added, “You’re hurting Mama.”

The words froze her.

Her heart clenched, because even a child could feel it. She gathered Hisaki into her arms, his small warmth grounding her.

“I know,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “It’s… complicated.”

When she tucked him in, she lingered at his bedside longer than usual. The moonlight washed over his features, so much of both of them there, yet a reflection of something beyond reach.

When she finally blew out the candle, she made herself a silent promise.
If Kenji chose distance out of duty, then she would bridge it out of courage.

Tomorrow, she would speak to him.
Not as the Hyuga head. Not as his superior.

But as Hinata.

Kenji

The Hokage’s office was quiet at dawn, only the scratch of Kakashi’s pen filled the air. Kenji stood before him, posture formal, face unreadable.

“You want an assignment outside the village,” Kakashi said at last, eyeing him over the file. “Solo reconnaissance. No backup.”

“Yes, sir.”

Kakashi leaned back in his chair. “You’ve barely been back from the last rotation, Kenji. And unless I’m mistaken, Lady Hinata specifically requested you for ongoing internal training duties.”

“I’m aware,” Kenji replied evenly. “But I believe a short-term external mission would… be beneficial.”

“To you,” Kakashi finished for him, tone mild but perceptive.

Kenji didn’t answer.

Kakashi sighed softly and set his pen down. “You’ve always been the quiet sort, Kenji, but I’m not blind. You’re pulling away from the Hyuga compound, from them.”

Kenji’s jaw tightened. “It’s necessary.”

“For what?”

Kenji’s silence was his answer.

Kakashi gave him a long, assessing look—half amused, half sympathetic. “You’re a difficult man to read, but you’re not the first shinobi to think running a few kilometers will quiet his heart.”

Kenji’s composure faltered, just slightly.

“I won’t ask,” Kakashi continued, softer now. “But if this is about rumors, or about protecting someone by pretending you don’t care—”
He stopped himself, eye crinkling faintly. “—you might be making the same mistake someone else once did.”

Kenji bowed his head. “Permission to proceed with the mission, Hokage-sama.”

Kakashi studied him for another beat, then signed the dispatch scroll.
“Five days,” he said. “No more.”

Kenji accepted the order, but lingered by the door for a fraction too long.

“Kenji,” Kakashi said quietly. “Don’t wait too long to come home. Sometimes, people don’t stay waiting forever.”

The words followed him long after he left the tower.
Through the quiet streets.
Through the compound gates, where the lamps still burned in Hinata’s study window.

He paused there for a moment, unseen in the shadows.

She was awake.
Of course she was.

He wanted—just once—to knock, to explain, to tell her that distance was never indifference. That he was doing this to protect her, not to leave her.

But his hand never lifted.

He turned away before courage could betray him.

Chapter Text

Hinata

The night was cool, faintly silvered by the waning moon.
Hinata woke before dawn—not to the cry of her son, but to the stillness.
A silence so complete it was almost wrong.

Something in her chest tightened.

She rose, slipping from her futon and pulling a shawl over her shoulders.
The lamp in her study had gone cold, the scrolls undisturbed, yet one detail struck her immediately—the small training report Kenji had left yesterday evening was gone.

Her breath caught.
She checked the desk drawer. Empty.
The paperweight slightly shifted, as if someone had moved it in haste.

Hinata’s hand hovered over the polished wood, trembling faintly.
It wasn’t the first time someone left in the night—but this time, it wasn’t a shinobi of her clan.

It was him.

She turned toward the window. The faintest trail of chakra stirred outside, fading southeast.
Kenji’s.

“Kenji…” she whispered into the dark, her voice cracking around his name.

A part of her wanted to run after him, to demand why he would vanish without a word. But she stayed rooted where she was—
because she already knew.
Duty. Restraint. That quiet, suffocating sense of honor.

He hadn’t left her because he didn’t care.
He’d left because he did.

And somehow, that hurt more.

Hisaki

The halls of the Hyuga compound were enormous in the dark.
But Hisaki had learned, at only three years old, which panels creaked and which ones didn’t.

He moved like a whisper, clutching his little sandals under one arm.
A faint orange scarf trailed from his neck—the one Uncle Naruto had lent him earlier that evening.

Naruto had crouched to his level, ruffling his hair.
“Your mom’s gonna be mad,” he’d said with a grin. “But sometimes… it’s okay to break a tiny rule if it’s for someone important.”

Hanabi had rolled her eyes, muttering something about “bad influences,” but she’d still distracted the night guards long enough for Hisaki to slip out through the side gate.

Now, the boy padded down the outer path, the cool air brushing his face, eyes glowing faintly under the moonlight.
He followed the faint shimmer of chakra he’d felt earlier—Kenji’s energy was quiet, steady, like a heartbeat wrapped in armor.

When he finally spotted the man near the southern gate, Hisaki broke into a run.
“Kenji!”

Kenji turned, startled, hand instinctively going to his hip before he recognized the tiny figure sprinting toward him.
“Hisaki?”

The boy skidded to a stop, panting, cheeks flushed.
“You weren’t gonna say goodbye.”

Kenji blinked, caught between exasperation and disbelief. “You—how did you even—”

“Hanabi-neesan helped,” Hisaki said, too honestly. “And uncle Naruto too.”

Kenji sighed, dragging a hand down his face. “Of course they did.”

He knelt, meeting the boy’s gaze. “You shouldn’t be out here, Hisaki. It’s not safe.”

“I know,” Hisaki said softly. “But you’re leaving. And I didn’t want you to go without… without me saying it.”

“Say what?”

The boy hesitated, twisting the end of Naruto’s scarf. “That… I’ll protect Mom. Until you come back. So you don’t have to worry.”

Something in Kenji’s chest cracked.

He stared at the boy—this child not his by blood, yet so deeply his in everything that mattered—and felt an ache that words could never reach.
He placed a hand over Hisaki’s head, thumb brushing through dark hair.

“I know you will,” Kenji said quietly. “You’re strong, Hisaki. But I’ll be back before you even miss me.”

“That’s what Mom said about someone else,” Hisaki murmured, almost inaudibly.

Kenji froze. “What do you mean?”

Hisaki only shook his head, dark eyes glossy with sleep and unsaid things. “You should go. Before the guards find me.”

Kenji hesitated—then nodded. He unfastened the small, silver insignia from his shoulder and pressed it into Hisaki’s hands.

“Keep this,” he said. “So you know I’ll come back for it.”

Hisaki clutched it tightly, as if it were something alive.
“I will.”

When Kenji rose, he turned once more, taking in the tiny figure framed in moonlight—barefoot, scarf fluttering, holding a symbol too heavy for his hands.

He wanted to kneel again. To promise things he had no right to.
Instead, he whispered, “Tell your mother… I’m sorry.”

And with that, he was gone—his chakra signature dissolving into the horizon.

Hisaki stood for a long moment, listening to the wind where his father figure had been.
Then he turned back toward home, the insignia warm in his palm, and whispered to the night,
“I’ll tell her you’ll come back.”

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Five days had passed.
Then six.
Then ten.

At first, Hinata told herself there was no reason to worry. ANBU missions were unpredictable by nature—routes shifted, reports delayed. Kenji had sent word through the proper channels before; he was careful that way. Thoughtful, responsible, disciplined to a fault.

But by the twelfth day, the scroll room was still empty.

By the fifteenth, word began to spread.

The team hasn’t reported back.
There was a skirmish on the border.
They’re still looking for survivors.

She tried to ignore it. The whispers in the corridors, the glances when she passed. But it was impossible. Even Hisaki had grown quiet, sensing something in the house had changed.

Her days had become a study in composure.
She trained, attended council meetings, and instructed Hisaki in the mornings—but her hands trembled when she poured tea. Her eyes lingered on the gate whenever it opened.

Kenji had been gone before, but never without a message. Never without his measured, “Don’t worry, Lady Hinata. I’ll be back soon.”

Now there was only silence.

That evening, a faint rain began to fall—soft, steady, endless. She stood under the eaves of the veranda, watching the droplets blur the courtyard lanterns into streaks of gold and silver.

“Mama?”
Hisaki’s small voice pulled her back. The boy was barefoot, wrapped in a thin blanket. His dark eyes—so unflinchingly perceptive—searched her face.

She smiled, or tried to. “It’s late, Hisaki. You should be asleep.”

He hesitated, then shuffled closer. “Kenji’s not coming back, is he?”

The question hit harder than any blow.

She sank to one knee, drawing him into her arms. “No, sweetheart,” she whispered, her voice steady only because it had to be. “He’s… delayed. But he’s strong. He’ll come back.”

“He'll come back... he promised me,” Hisaki murmured against her shoulder.

Later that night, after Hisaki had fallen asleep, Hinata sat alone in the compound’s study. Scrolls lay open but unread. Candlelight flickered against the ink-stained desk.

When Kakashi’s message finally arrived, it was short—just a folded slip, sealed with the Hokage’s mark.

Team Ke. Mission compromised near the border of the Land of Rivers. Two members confirmed dead. One missing in action: ANBU Captain Kenji A—.

She didn’t finish reading. The world around her seemed to fade into a single, ringing silence.

For a long time, she sat unmoving, the letter crumpling slightly in her trembling hand.

Then she stood, crossed to the window, and looked out at the rain again.

Somewhere beyond the borders, Kenji’s chakra had vanished like a candle snuffed in the wind.
But her heart refused to accept it.

He wasn’t gone.
He couldn’t be.

Chapter Text

Naruto leaned forward over the desk, scanning the scroll again even though he’d read it three times already. “No tracker seals. No distress signal. It’s been almost two weeks.”
His tone was clipped, restless. “You’re sure there wasn’t a fight?”

Kakashi didn’t answer right away. “If there was,” he said at last, “they erased it. The patrols found no chakra residue and no footprints beyond the river crossing. The trail simply ends.”

Naruto exhaled hard, running a hand through his hair. “Kenji’s too careful for that. He’s skilled. He wouldn’t just vanish.”

“That’s what worries me,” Kakashi murmured.

He flipped through the rest of the report — water-logged pages, a broken kunai retrieved from the site, fragments of an unfamiliar metal mask. None of it told a story that made sense.

Shikamaru frowned at the mask. “Doesn’t look like anything we use. Not Root, not Sand. Who’s working with this kind of tech?”

“Unknown,” Kakashi said simply. “There are rumors of groups scavenging from the ruins left after the Fourth War. People playing with chakra, they don’t understand.”

Naruto’s eyes narrowed. “Weapons?”

“Possibly,” Kakashi admitted. “But this—” he tapped the report, “—feels organized. Like someone wanted him gone.”

The silence stretched. The flame on the desk guttered and bent as though something unseen had passed through the room.

Naruto finally broke the quiet. “Does Hinata know?”

“Only that the mission’s been delayed,” Kakashi replied. “She hasn’t asked questions. Not yet.”

Naruto looked unconvinced. “You think she won’t notice? She’s sharper than she looks. And Hisaki—” he hesitated, lowering his voice “—the kid’s observant. Too observant.”

Kakashi’s visible eye softened, thoughtful. “Which is why we’ll keep the truth contained. Until we have something to tell her.”

Shikamaru sighed. “You know she’ll go looking herself.”

“I know,” Kakashi said. He turned back toward the window, gaze distant. “But for now, we hold the line. Search teams sweep the area again at dawn. If he’s alive, Kenji will find a way to make contact.”

“And if he’s not?” Naruto asked quietly.

Kakashi didn’t respond.
Outside, a hawk cut across the fog-heavy sky, crying once before disappearing into clouds.

Kakashi remained alone in the office, the map unrolled again before him.
He traced the route Kenji had taken with a gloved finger — the river bend, the mountain path, the last marked campsite — and stopped at the blank stretch beyond.

Something about it felt wrong. Not empty, but erased.

He’d seen plenty of ambushes in his life, but this wasn’t one. There was no chaos, no aftermath of struggle. Just a silence that had shape — deliberate, complete.

And in that silence, a faint unease stirred behind his ribs.
Something old. Something patient.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Mist clung to the forest like a living thing. Every step sank into damp moss and silence. The air smelled of rain and decay — too quiet, too still.

Kakashi crouched low, his single visible eye tracing the faint impressions in the soil. “These are fresh,” he murmured. “But they just… stop.”

Shikamaru bent beside him, frowning. “No drag marks, no sign of a fight. They didn’t run. They vanished.”

Naruto, usually the loudest among them, stood several paces back with his hands in his pockets, staring at the space ahead. “That’s the third Hyuga patrol gone this month,” he said softly. “And now Kenji’s team too…”

Sai’s ink birds circled high above the canopy, dissolving into nothing. “No chakra signatures within two kilometers,” he reported. “It’s as if someone erased them.”

Kakashi rose, gaze turning toward the eastern ridge. “Someone, or something, is targeting the Hyūga.”

Shikamaru let out a long breath. “Troublesome doesn’t even begin to cover this.”

Naruto’s jaw tightened. “Kenji’s not the kind to go down easy. We’ll find him.”

The fog rolled through the trees, thick and soundless. Beneath it, the forest felt ancient — as if it was keeping secrets too old and too heavy to tell.

Kakashi’s voice broke the silence. “We’ll report back quietly. The clan doesn’t need more fear. Not yet.”

The others nodded. No one said it aloud, but they all felt the same unease — a sense that this wasn’t just another missing-nin case. Something was moving beneath the surface, and it had started with the Hyuga.

Evening fell over the Hyuga compound, calm and deceptive. The paper lanterns flickered along the veranda, casting amber ripples across the polished floors.

Inside, Hinata sat with Sakura, Ino, and Tenten. Teacups rested untouched between them. The silence had weight, heavier than any conversation could bear.

“Still no word?” Sakura asked finally, her voice quiet, careful.

Hinata shook her head. “Nothing since the last report. Kakashi-sensei said they’re expanding the search east.”

Ino reached across, touching Hinata’s hand. “He’ll come back, you’ll see. Kenji’s one of the best.”

Hinata managed a small smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Yes… he is.”

Tenten leaned back, studying her. “You’ve been different lately, you know. Quieter — even for you.” She tried to lighten her tone. “Don’t tell me you’ve fallen for your ANBU guard.”

Sakura swatted her shoulder gently. “Tenten,” she chided, though she was smiling too.

Hinata flushed, her fingers curling around her cup. “It’s not like that… He’s— he’s helped so much with Hisaki. He’s kind to him.”

Ino grinned. “And to you.”

Hinata looked down, the warmth in her cheeks giving way to a familiar ache, deep and cold, buried beneath the surface. He’s kind, he's important, she thought. And I can’t lose him too- like I lost-.

She said nothing, only smiled again, that polite, practiced smile that deflected everything she didn’t want to explain.

Outside, the cicadas began their nightly hum, steady and endless. Somewhere deep inside, she could feel her heart counting the days.

That night, when the house had gone still, Hinata rose from her futon and crossed the hall to Hisaki’s room.

The boy was asleep, his breathing soft and even. His tiny hand clutched something tightly to his chest, a dull gleam catching in the moonlight.

Hinata knelt beside him. The insignia. The insignia from Kenji's armor. The one he had given Hisaki before leaving.

She remembered that night: Hisaki had snuck out, barefoot, his little voice whispering, “I wanna say goodbye.” And Kenji — instead of scolding him — had knelt, smiled, and pressed the insignia into his hand. “Keep it safe until I come back for it.”

Hisaki had nodded seriously, like he understood the gravity of it.

Now, weeks later, he still slept with it in his hand every night.

Hinata brushed her fingers along his hair and whispered, “He’ll come home soon.”
But her heart didn’t believe her. Not entirely.

She lingered, her gaze on the insignia glinting faintly in the pale light. She wanted to be strong, for Hisaki, for the clan — but the silence in the compound felt heavier with every passing day.

She whispered a prayer, quiet as breath.
“I'll keep it safe for you,” she echoed.

The moonlight caught the metal again, spilling a silver glow across the room, a small light, fragile, refusing to fade.

Chapter Text

The Hyuga compound was never truly silent.
Even in the stillest hours of the morning, there was the whisper of sandals on polished floors, the soft hiss of paper doors sliding open, the subtle hum of chakra from countless eyes that never stopped watching.

But lately, that watchfulness had curdled into suspicion.

Hinata felt it every time she crossed the courtyard — eyes lingering a moment too long, conversations halting when she approached. The air in the clan council room felt heavy, as if even the wood and paper carried unease.

She stood now before the assembled elders, the faint smell of incense clinging to the air.

“Lady Hinata,” Elder Kuroda began, his voice polite but edged with weariness. “We’ve lost six members from the outer branch this month alone. All unaccounted for.”

Another elder — austere, her eyes pale and sharp — folded her hands. “And Captain Kenji Arata remains missing. You must understand how this appears to the clan.”

Hinata kept her voice steady. “The Hokage has extended the search north. I’ve already requested another team to—”

“With respect,” the woman interrupted softly, “the Hokage’s concern does not change the fact that the disappearances began after the ANBU captain was stationed here. Nor that he grew… close to the main house.”

The murmurs rippled quietly around the room. Hinata’s hands tightened beneath her sleeves.

“He risked his life to protect this compound,” she replied. “Kenji has never been anything but loyal to the village—”

“Perhaps,” Kuroda said, tilting his head, “but loyalty can be divided, Lady Hinata. We have seen it before. You, of all people, should remember how that ends.”

Hinata drew in a slow breath. “I remember,” she said quietly. “Which is why I’ll protect this clan — all of it. But I won’t condemn someone based on whispers.”

The silence that followed was not agreement.
It was resistance, patience, and watching.

That evening, she walked the outer gardens with Hanabi, the gravel path crunching softly beneath their feet.

“They’re scared,” Hanabi said finally, breaking the silence. “When people are scared, they find someone to blame.”

Hinata nodded, her gaze fixed on the koi pond ahead. The surface shimmered silver beneath the moonlight — calm on top, but the water churned just below. “And if they can’t blame the Hokage, they’ll blame whoever’s closest.”

Hanabi glanced at her sister, the faintest frown tugging at her lips. “You mean you.”

Hinata didn’t answer.

Her fingers brushed the small pouch at her waist — the one holding the insignia Hisaki still clutched each night before sleep. She hadn’t told anyone that Kenji had given it to him. Somehow, she knew it would only feed the whispers.

Later that night, in the main hall, several younger Hyuga gathered near the gate, voices low and quick.

“They say it’s a curse,” one murmured. “Every Hyuga who served near the ANBU captain vanished.”

“Maybe the Byakugan is being targeted,” another said. “Or maybe—”

Their words stopped abruptly as Hisaki appeared at the end of the corridor, small and silent. At three, he should not have understood the tone — but he did. His eyes lifted, dark and unblinking, watching the older clan members frantically bowing and scattering in discomfort.

He turned and ran, bare feet padding across the floor until he reached Hinata’s room.

She looked up as he burst through the door, clutching the insignia in his hand.

“Is it true?” he asked, his little voice breaking the stillness. “Is everyone scared of us?”

Hinata knelt, pulling him close, her heart twisting. “No, Hisaki. They’re just… confused.”

He pressed the insignia to his chest. “But he’s coming back, right?”

Her smile trembled, unseen in the dark. “Yes,” she whispered, though her heart did not answer.

Outside, the wind rustled through the paper walls, carrying the faint sound of chanting from the branch-house training grounds — sharp, angry, full of fear.

The fractures in the clan were widening.
And Hinata, for all the quiet strength she could muster, could feel them splintering beneath her feet.

Chapter Text

The council room was colder that morning.

The sliding doors had been left open just enough for the wind to snake in, carrying the scent of wet stone and pine. Candles flickered along the walls, their light soft but unsteady — just like the voices gathered within.

Hinata stood at the far end of the tatami mat, her hands folded neatly before her, posture impeccable.
Across from her, the elders knelt in a perfect half-circle, silent, unmoving. Behind them stood her father, Hiashi — his expression unreadable, the pale gleam of his eyes fixed forward.

“Lady Hinata,” Elder Kuroda began, his voice slow and deliberate. “The clan continues to fracture under uncertainty. There have been… disputes. Open defiance, even among the branch families.”

Hinata inclined her head slightly. “I’ve been aware. I’ve spoken with—”

“You have spoken,” another elder interrupted sharply. “But not acted.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line. “You mean punished.”

“Sometimes discipline is necessary,” the man replied. “We have lost nearly a dozen members. And the main house remains silent while the Hokage provides no results.”

“The Hokage is investigating,” Hinata said evenly, but she could feel the subtle tightening in the air — like the moments before a kunai was thrown.

“Investigating is not enough!” someone snapped. “We need leadership, not sympathy!”

The room rippled with murmurs.
Hinata’s heart beat once, hard, and then steadied again.

“I am doing everything I can,” she said quietly. “But I will not turn this clan against itself out of fear. I will not let us repeat the sins of—”

“Of the Uchiha?” Kuroda finished for her, his smile cold. “Yes. That is precisely what we wish to avoid.”

She sharply exhaled. The elders murmured yet again. The Uchiha had been there neighbors once, the sister clans, once supposed to be united through marriage—she paused that thought. 

The silence that followed was heavy, suffocating.
Hinata bowed her head — not in defeat, but to control the tremor that threatened her breath.

Hiashi’s voice finally cut through the quiet. Calm, but so sharp it felt like steel drawn from a sheath.
“Enough.”

The elders fell silent at once.

He rose slowly, hands clasped behind his back, and for a moment — just a moment — Hinata saw the man who had once lifted her up as high as the fledgling blossom tree her mother planted. The man that had once been proud to call her his daughter.

But when he turned to face her, his gaze was distant.

“The council has raised concerns,” he said. “And they are not without merit.”

“Father—”

“You’ve led the clan with compassion,” he continued, not meeting her eyes. “But compassion can be… misunderstood in times like these. Fear breeds distrust. And when leadership appears divided—”

“I have done nothing but serve this clan,” she said, voice low but steady. “Every mission, every decision—”

“—you’ve done as a Hyuga,” Hiashi finished. “But as clan head, you answer not only to your conscience, but to our history. To the preservation of our name.”

Hinata’s breath caught in her chest. “Are you saying—?”

He finally looked at her then, and she wished he hadn’t.

“If the situation does not improve,” he said, each word deliberate, “the council will vote to appoint an interim head — until stability is restored.”

The air went out of her like a blow.
Her father’s tone was formal, cold — the same voice he used when passing judgment, not giving guidance. The same unfeeling tone he had used when he washed his hands of her to Kurenai-sensei, declaring her a failure. 

“I understand,” she said quietly.

Hiashi’s gaze lingered a moment longer. There was something in it — regret, perhaps — but he turned before she could name it.

That night, she sat beneath the veranda, the garden lanterns swaying softly in the wind.
Hisaki was asleep inside, the small Hyuga crest on his night robe catching the moonlight through the open door.

Hinata looked down at her hands — pale, slender, trembling just slightly. The same hands that had once healed wounds, held friends, trained her son.

The same hands her clan now doubted.

The stars above the compound shimmered faintly, distant and cold. Somewhere out there, she hoped, Kenji still lived — and the thought both steadied and broke her.

She closed her eyes, whispering to the night,
“I won’t lose everything again.”

But even as she said it, the wind carried through the compound — and in it, the faint sound of murmured dissent.

The Hyuga crest, carved above the hall’s entrance, gleamed like an unblinking eye, watching and judging.

Chapter Text

The council chamber had long emptied, yet Hiashi remained seated.
The candles had dwindled to stubs, their light flickering faintly against the scroll-lined walls. Shadows pooled at the corners — silent, patient, as though waiting for him to speak first.

He didn’t.

Instead, he let the stillness settle, the weight of what the elders had said pressing like cold iron against his spine.

“The child’s eyes… they are not ours.”
“Without the Byakugan, he cannot stand as heir.”
“Perhaps it is time the clan head steps aside for the sake of preservation.”

Hiashi’s jaw tightened.
Preservation — the word the elders used when they meant control.

All this talk this afternoon of the ANBU Captain, it was merely a convenient excuse, one to oust Hinata, and his grandson.

He had ruled the Hyuga for decades, watched its divisions nearly destroy it. And now, just when peace had begun to take root under Hinata’s leadership, they were ready to sow doubt again.
Because of one child.

Because of Hisaki.

Hiashi rose and stepped toward the veranda. The night air was cool and sharp; the moon hung above the garden, a white coin resting on ink. Beyond the paper screens, the main compound was quiet — save for the faint laughter of guards at the outer gate.

And then, from deeper within the residence, the sound of a small voice.
A child’s. Familiar.

Hiashi turned.

Hisaki was padding barefoot down the hallway, his tiny hands clutching the hem of his sleeping robe. His dark hair fell into his eyes — eyes that were dark as midnight, nothing like the pale gaze that defined their clan.

“Grandfather,” the boy said softly. “You’re still awake.”

Hiashi hesitated before answering. “So are you.”

The boy blinked, then smiled faintly. He looks so much like Hinata when he did. “The house is loud tonight.”

Hiashi’s lips curved in something close to amusement. “You hear too much for your age.”

Hisaki nodded solemnly, as though it were an admission rather than a compliment. “I heard the men talking again… about Mama.”

Hiashi felt a muscle tighten in his chest. “What did you hear?”

“That she shouldn’t be in charge,” Hisaki murmured, lowering his eyes. “That someone else should lead. Because of me.”

The words hung between them — small, trembling, and unbearably heavy.

Hiashi closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, he knelt, placing one steady hand on the boy’s shoulder.

“Your mother leads because she has earned it,” he said quietly. “No council, no whisper, can take that away.”

Hisaki didn’t answer right away. He stared at his grandfather’s robes, tracing the embroidered crest with his gaze.

“…They said I don’t look like a Hyuga.”

Hiashi’s breath caught.
There was no cruelty in the boy’s voice — only confusion. But it struck deeper than any insult could.

He thought of all the things he could say — that the blood of the Hyuga is more than eyes, that strength isn’t always visible — but the words withered before they reached his tongue.
Because the truth was, those excuses would never survive the council’s scrutiny.

So instead, he said what he could.

“You look like your mother,” he murmured. “And that is more than enough.”

Hisaki’s lips curved again, shyly this time. The small, fleeting smile made Hiashi’s chest ache — a kind of ache that had nothing to do with politics or lineage— my daughter’s smile, my wife’s smile.

“Now go,” he said gently, straightening. “You should be asleep before your mother notices you’re missing.”

“Yes, Grandfather.”

The boy turned and padded away, his little feet making no sound on the wood. The light from the hall caught on his hair — dark and soft and unburdened — before he vanished into shadow.

Hiashi remained where he was.

When the silence returned, he exhaled, long and slow.

The Hyuga had always prided themselves on purity — of blood, of vision, of legacy. But looking out over the moonlit garden, Hiashi wondered for the first time whether that purity had become a prison.

Hisaki was bright, perceptive, and frighteningly quick to learn. The boy’s awareness cut sharper than most seasoned shinobi. He noticed things — moods, movements, emotions — with uncanny intuition.

A different kind of sight.

And yet, to the elders, all of that meant nothing.
They saw only his eyes — dark, not pale.
Proof, they whispered, that the next generation was tainted.

Hiashi’s fingers tightened on the railing.

“You would destroy her,” he said under his breath. “You would destroy them both for the sake of a color.”

He looked toward Hinata’s quarters — faint light flickering from behind the sliding screens.
She would be working late again, he knew.

He wanted to protect her — to shield her from the council’s malice, from the past that clung to her like mist — but power was a cruel inheritance.
Even he, the former head of the Hyuga, could only slow the tide. Not stop it.

By dawn, Hiashi was still awake.
When the first pale light crept over the rooftops, he poured himself tea and prepared for another council summons.
As he dressed, he paused, his reflection wavering in the mirror’s polished surface.

The wind brushed against the paper doors, carrying the faint echo of a child’s laughter — brief, distant, and heartbreakingly pure.

Chapter Text

The Hokage’s office smelled faintly of ink and rain. A storm had passed that morning, and water still traced slow paths down the windowpanes, leaving the village below blurred in gray light.

Kakashi looked up from the desk as the door slid open.
Hinata stepped in, her movements precise, her expression calm, but even before she spoke, he could see the strain she carried. It clung to her shoulders like a second cloak.

Naruto, seated off to the side and halfway through a cup of ramen, looked up as well. “Hinata? You came fast. Is it about the disappearances?”

Hinata bowed slightly. “Yes,” she said softly. “Partly.”

Kakashi gestured toward the seat across from him. “Then sit. You look like you’ve been awake for days.”

“I have.” Her voice was faintly hoarse. She sat, her hands folded neatly in her lap, as though holding herself together by habit alone.

Naruto leaned forward, his brows furrowing. “You’re worried about Kenji, aren’t you? We still haven’t found—”

“Yes,” she interrupted, but gently. “I am. But that isn’t all.”

Kakashi set his pen down. His single visible eye sharpened.

“Go on.”

For a long moment, Hinata said nothing. The rain ticked against the window; somewhere outside, thunder rumbled faintly.
Then she exhaled and looked between them — her last sources of trust beyond the clan walls.

“It’s about Hisaki.”

Naruto blinked. “Hisaki? Did something happen?”

Hinata hesitated, her fingers tightening slightly. “No. Not yet.”
She lifted her gaze, and for a fleeting instant, Kakashi saw the same steel he’d once seen in her father. “But I fear something will.”

Kakashi leaned back slowly. “Explain.”

She glanced toward the window, her reflection fractured against the rain-streaked glass.

“Hisaki is… perceptive. More than any child I’ve ever seen. He feels everything around him — the tension in the clan, the rumors, my worry for Kenji. He doesn’t understand it all, but he feels it. And lately… he’s been changing.”

Naruto frowned. “Changing how?”

“His chakra.” Hinata’s voice lowered. “It’s deepening — darkening. Sometimes, when he’s upset, I see it flicker behind his eyes. A shadow that isn’t Byakugan.” Kakashi's eyes visibly narrowed. 

She looked down, her words trembling even as her tone stayed even. “I think… I think he may awaken the Sharingan.”

Naruto froze mid-breath. “Wait, what?”

Kakashi said nothing. But his silence was heavy, understanding dawning like a blade drawn slowly from its sheath. His gaze softened with something close to sorrow.

"I know that he’s… different. And if the clan sees it, if the elders suspect…”
She closed her eyes. “They’ll take everything from me. From him.”

The silence that followed was absolute.
Only the rain filled it, soft and steady.

Naruto set down his chopsticks. His expression, usually open and unguarded, turned unexpectedly serious. “You think the Sharingan could show up because he’s hurting.”

Hinata nodded once. “Grief and pain awaken it, don’t they? That’s what you told me once — about Sasuke, about Itachi.”
She hesitated, then whispered, “He misses Kenji. Every night, he asks if he’s coming home. I tell him yes. But if that lie turns to despair…”

Her voice faltered. “If he awakens those eyes… they’ll call him a curse. They’ll strip me of my title. And they’ll take him away.”

Her head dropped. "They may even brand him with the Cursed Seal."

Kakashi rose from his seat and crossed to the window, his gloved hand resting against the sill. His reflection stared back, older, wearier, but not without compassion. “You came here for a reason,” he said quietly. “Not just to tell us.”

Hinata met his gaze. “I need your help. Both of you.”

Naruto blinked. “What do you mean?”

Her next words fell like stones.

“I want to seal it. If the Sharingan awakens… I want it sealed before anyone can see.”

Naruto’s chair scraped against the floor. “Hinata, you can’t! He’s just a kid! You can’t seal away something that’s part of him...”

“I can,” she said softly. “And I will, if it keeps him safe.”

Kakashi turned back to her. “A seal that precise isn’t simple,” he said after a pause. “Even if it’s possible, it would have to be done with his chakra flow stable. That means he’d have to know what we were doing.”

“I know.”
Her voice was barely audible now. “But if it spares him what I’ve seen… what Itachi suffered through… then it’s worth it.”

Naruto’s expression softened, troubled, uncertain. “You still think about him, huh?”

She didn’t answer. She didn’t need to.
The silence that followed was answer enough.

Kakashi finally sighed, lifting a hand to his head. “Let me look into the sealing formulas,” he said at last. “If there’s a way to do this without harming him, we’ll find it.”

Chapter Text

The forest around the borderlands was unnaturally still.

No birds. No wind.

Just the rhythmic rasp of his breath and the faint, metallic scent of blood clinging to his gloves. His own, and that of his team.

He sat with his back against the cold stone of a ruined shrine, the faint markings of an old moon crest worn smooth with time. His uniform torn, porcelain mask cracked. The remnants of an ambush that had scattered his unit days ago. Maybe weeks. He had stopped counting.

The last message he’d managed to send had been a flare signal towards the Fire border. He didn’t know if anyone had seen it. 

He didn’t know if anyone still thought he was alive— if they— if she thought he was alive. 

Kenji’s hand trembled as he pressed against his side, feeling the half-sealed wound pulse beneath the bandages. His chakra dangerously depleted, very breath shallow. “Still here,” he muttered to himself. “You don’t get to die yet.” 

He tilted his head back against the stone and closed his eyes. 

But the darkness that met him wasn’t empty. 

It was filled with the sound of laughter. Light and high-pitched, echoing like a chorus of ringing bells. 

“Higher, Kenji! Higher!” Hisaki— the small arms reaching towards the sky, the way his pale cheeks puffed when he laughed. He thought of how the boy ran towards him in the ghostly hours of the night, barefooted. He thought of his own promise to return, to retrieve the insignia. 

And then Lady Hinata’s voice, calm but soft in the background, warning him not to spin, not to indulge the boy too much. Hinata…

Her name came unbidden, almost a whisper, a nagging that would not subside. It burned at the back of his throat, too intimate for the silence and darkness that was already starting to engulf him. 

A sudden flicker of foreign chakra yanked him out of his thoughts. Ancient and hollow, like something almost divine. 

He straightened, ignoring the pull in his side, the gash on his thigh. Every muscle went tense. That same chakra signature had been trailing him since the ambush, distant but never completely gone. At first he’d thought it was a survivor from his team. Then a cold realisation seeped in that it wasn’t human at all.

Now it was closer. 

He reached for his blade. 

The trees shifted. 

Something moved, white, fluid, almost like silk. A shape, not quote human. It hovered just beyond sight. Its body faintly luminescent in the half-dark. 

“You shouldn’t still be alive,” a voice murmured from the shadows. It was soft, almost sorrowful, and yet carried a chill that raised the hair on Kenji’s neck. “The roots of the earth have already claimed your blood.” Said that figure, voice laced disappointment.

Kenji togetherness his grip. “You’ll have to tell them they’re wrong.”

The shape tilted its head, watching him, as if amused. Then faintly it smiled, not cruelly— but in a reminiscing way.

”You carry her scent. That Hyuga girl.”

Kenji froze. 

“You’ll mean the clan head,” he uttered in disbelief and caution all the same.

”Yes,” the voice replied. “The one promised to the Moon’s Eye. The one who still dreams of a man long dead.”

The words slid like ice into Kenji’s chest. 

He stepped forward, blade half-raised. “What do you know about her?” He demanded. 

The thing in the trees tilted its head again. “Only that fate circles back. It always does.” The ominous, matter-of-face tilt to the creature’s voice frankly frightened him.

Kenji stood there for a long time after. Every instinct was screaming, every thought spinning. 

She is in danger, Hisaki—

“Wait for me.” He whispered quietly to the forest. 

Chapter Text

The days bled together.
Kenji moved like a shadow through the abandoned borderlands, guided by instinct and survival more than destination. His uniform was in tatters, his mask discarded. Only the faint silver insignia on his arm remained — a ghost of the life he’d temporarily left behind.

The forest changed as he moved deeper north. The air grew thin, colder. The trees gave way to stone pillars buried in moss — old, ancient things, half-swallowed by time.
There were carvings on them. Spirals, crescents, and something like an eye within the moon.

It wasn’t until night fell that he realized they were pulsing.

Kenji crouched before one of the pillars, tracing the lines with his gloved fingers.
The stone was warm. Not with heat — with chakra. Familiar yet wrong.
It carried the echo of something he had felt before, faintly, the day Hisaki was born.

A strange, pulling sensation, as if the air around him was trying to remember a presence long erased. “This isn’t natural chakra,” he muttered. “It’s something else…”

He let his eyes narrow, channeling the faintest pulse of his own energy — and for a moment, the carvings moved.
The spirals turned. The crescents widened.
And beneath the earth, something answered.

A low hum vibrated through the soil, deep and resonant, like the breath of a sleeping god.

Kenji backed away, blade drawn, as a section of the ground cracked and collapsed inward. Dust rose, revealing a stairway carved from obsidian-like stone, leading downward into darkness.

He hesitated — just for a heartbeat — then descended.

The deeper he went, the colder it grew. Not the cold of winter, but of emptiness, of air that hadn’t been touched by life in centuries. His torchlight flickered against murals on the wall — stories etched in ancient precision.

They depicted a clan of white-eyed beings descending from the heavens.
Their leader held a crescent moon in one hand, an eye in the other.
And kneeling before him… was a figure that bore the unmistakable markings of the Byakugan. “Hyuga…” Kenji whispered.

“No… before the Hyuga.”

He pressed a hand to his chest, forcing himself to steady his breathing. Then, wordlessly, he turned and began marking the walls — mapping the path back, the ANBU habit in him still alive even as everything else crumbled. “I’ll get this information to Kakashi,” he muttered. “Then I’ll—”

He froze.

Something behind him moved — soft, deliberate. A faint rustle of fabric against stone.

When he turned, the light caught a figure standing at the edge of the corridor.
Long white hair. Eyes like cold glass. A faint, serene smile.

“You’ve come far, child of earth,” the stranger said, voice echoing softly. “But you walk among the roots of gods.”

Kenji’s grip on his blade tightened. “Then I guess I’ll have to learn to cut gods down.”

Chapter Text

The house was too quiet. Even the night insects outside had stopped singing.

Hisaki lay on his futon, eyes wide open, watching the ceiling glow faintly blue in the moonlight. The shadows moved when the wind shifted through the paper doors — but some of them didn’t move at all.

He turned on his side and clutched the metal insignia in his hand. It was cool against his palm, heavy for something so small.
Kenji’s insignia.

He could still remember the night Kenji gave it to him.
“I’ll come back for it,” Kenji had said, smiling in that soft, tired way of his.

That was… days ago?
Weeks, maybe?
Hisaki didn’t know. Time was slippery, like rain running down the garden stones.

What he did know was this: sometimes, when he closed his eyes, he could still feel Kenji nearby — like a steady hand resting on his shoulder. But tonight… that feeling was fading.

He sat up suddenly.
The air felt wrong.
Like someone was standing just behind him — quiet, still, waiting.

His eyes darted toward the window. The moon hung low, big and white, and for a heartbeat he swore it looked back.
Not down, but inward, right into him.

He felt it again — that strange tug in his chest, the whisper of a voice he couldn’t hear but somehow understood. It wasn’t frightening, not exactly. Just… lonely. “Who are you?” he whispered into the dark.

No answer came. But the shadows along the far wall rippled, and for a moment, his reflection in the glass didn’t look like him. His eyes, too dark, too still — flashed with something bright beneath.

Then it was gone.

He squeezed the insignia tighter. “Mama…” he whispered. “It’s watching.”

Morning came soft and gray, smelling of rain.
The compound was full of voices, hushed, worried ones. Hisaki didn’t understand much, only that his mother was leaving.

He watched from the hall as she fastened her pack, her headband tied firmly. Aunt Sakura and Aunt Ino stood beside her, whispering about maps and formations. Uncle Naruto and Uncle Shikamaru were talking in low, serious tones with the guards. Everyone looked like they wanted to smile, but couldn’t.

Mama turned, and when she saw him, her eyes softened, the way they always did when she looked at him. “Hisaki,” she said gently, kneeling. “Come here, sweetheart.”

He ran into her arms, clutching at her cloak. It smelled like lavender and smoke.

“You’re going?”

She nodded. “Just for a while. I’ll be back soon.”

“With Kenji?”

Her breath caught, but she smiled anyway. “We’ll do everything we can to find him.”

He wanted to believe her.

But something in the way she said we’ll do everything we can sounded like what grown-ups said when they weren’t sure.

Mama brushed a hand over his hair, smoothing it back. “You’ll stay with Aunt Hanabi, all right? Be good. Be brave.”

He nodded, though the lump in his throat made it hard to speak.

“If you see him,” he whispered, “tell him I still have it.”

Her eyes flickered down — to the insignia gleaming faintly in his little hand — and for a second, the mask of composure cracked. She hugged him tight, so tight he could hear her heartbeat.

“I will,” she said softly. “I promise.”

After she left, Hisaki climbed up to the engawa and sat there, swinging his legs, the insignia gleaming in his lap. The rain had started, thin and quiet, like the sky was crying carefully so no one would notice.

Somewhere deep in the forest beyond the walls, he felt that strange pull again, the same one that had stared through him the night before.
Only now it was fainter.
Farther away.
Almost like it was following her.

He curled his fingers around the insignia, watching the droplets gather at the edge of the roof and fall, one by one.

“Don’t go too far,” he whispered. “I’ll wait here. I’ll wait until you both come back.”

But the silence that followed wasn’t empty.
It was listening.

Chapter Text

The house was too still. Even at night, the Hyuga compound was never silent. There were always soft steps in the hallways, the rustle of robes, the faint breath of guards outside. But tonight, everything had stopped.

Hisaki turned over in his futon, clutching the worn insignia Kenji had given him before leaving. The metal was cold against his small fingers. It should’ve made him feel safe Kenji always did, but now, it only reminded him of how quiet it was.

He sat up, listening.

The quiet wasn’t empty. It was full.
Like something was breathing just beyond the walls.

He slid out of bed, bare feet padding softly across the tatami. The paper doors glowed faintly with moonlight. Somewhere in the house, someone stirred, maybe a guard, maybe his aunt Hanabi — but even their presence felt distant, muffled, as though the air between him and the world had thickened.

He stepped out onto the veranda.

The night air was cold, brushing against his skin like fingertips. The pond stretched out before him, the moon caught perfectly in its surface. The reflection didn’t ripple. Not even when the wind passed over it.

He frowned. The water was too still.

He took one more step forward, and saw it.

A shadow beneath the reflection. A darker shape under the moonlight’s white glow.
Eyes.
Looking up.

He froze. His heart beat fast but quiet, as if it knew not to draw attention.

The shape didn’t move. It just stared.
And in his head, not out loud, not in the air — he heard it. A low hum, almost like someone breathing words through water.

“Come closer.”

He shook his head, whispering, “No.”

The voice didn’t stop. It sounded soft. Gentle. Almost like Kenji when he was teaching him to breathe through a strike, or like his mother when she sang to him before bed.

But it wasn’t them.
He knew it wasn’t them.

The insignia grew warm in his hand. He squeezed it tight. “Go away.”

The pond rippled suddenly, as if struck from beneath. The moon’s reflection shattered into silver shards, and the eyes vanished.

He stumbled back, breathing fast. His small frame trembled, but he didn’t cry.

When the ripples settled again, everything was as before.
The pond.
The stillness.
The moon.

And yet, as he turned to go back inside, the air behind him shifted — faintly, like a sigh.

He didn’t look back.
But as he climbed into his futon, curling around the insignia, he whispered softly into the dark:

“Mama… someone’s here.”

He waited for her voice to answer, to soothe him like she always did.
But the only thing that answered was the night.
Breathing.

Chapter Text

The mist was unnaturally thick.
Hinata’s Byakugan could barely pierce more than fifty meters ahead. A strange interference clouded the chakra field.

Her team moved in formation through the silent forest.
Naruto took point, Sakura beside him, Sai flanking, Shikamaru and Ino covering the rear.

Every step felt like walking into a dream that wasn’t theirs.

“We’re close,” Shikamaru murmured, scanning his shadow lines. “Chakra traces. Faint, but patterned. Not random.”

Hinata nodded, eyes narrowing. “It feels… organized. Not animal. Not bandits.”

“Then it’s someone with purpose,” Naruto said, his tone quiet for once.

The air trembled, and then the puppets came.

They burst from the fog, movements disturbingly fluid. No chakra signatures.

Hinata struck fast, each motion perfect and soundless, her palms glowing faintly blue.

Every hit shattered one of the constructs, but more replaced them, reforming like mist.

Naruto slammed a Rasengan through one, the explosion lighting the night. “There’s no end to them!”

And then, the world went still.

A faint hum spread through the ground.
The mist parted.
And from its depths came a voice; soft, clear, and distant, like an echo through water.

“You do not belong here, child of the Hyuga.”

The team turned as one.

The figure stepped forward, barefoot, robes flowing like they were made of light. His hair was white as snow, his eyes closed.

Hinata froze. The weight of his chakra was suffocating; it was ancient and calm, yet colder than death.

Naruto moved protectively in front of her. “Who are you?”

The man’s gaze didn’t flicker. He wasn’t looking at Naruto at all.
Only Hinata.

“I am Toneri Ōtsutsuki,” he said coldly. Cocking his head slightly as he examined her with a clinical look. Strange considering that he seemed to be without eyes. “And you... are meant to walk beside me. The moon remembers you, Hinata Hyuga.”

Her breath caught. “Walk… beside you?”

“Come with me,” Toneri continued, his voice low and resonant. “The Earth has taken what was mine. One of yours has trespassed where he should not have."

Hinata’s stomach dropped. “…Kenji?”

Toneri’s expression didn’t change, but the faintest curve touched his lips. “So you know his name.”

Naruto stiffened. “What the hell are you talking about—?!”

Toneri’s gaze never left hers.

The air grew colder.

Puppets surrounded them again, forming a ring, as if waiting for an order.

Hinata’s voice trembled. “What have you done to him?”

“He sees the moon now,” Toneri said. “And soon, so shall you.”

Then, with a ripple of light, he vanished, the constructs dissolving like mist at dawn.

The forest was silent again.
Only the sound of Naruto’s breathing broke the stillness.

“Hinata…” he said softly, turning to her.

But she wasn’t looking at him.
Her eyes, pale and wide, stared into the empty night where Toneri had stood.

And in her chest, the faint echo of Kenji’s chakra flickered.

Then it was gone.

Chapter Text

The compound— no the earth felt cold tonight. 

Hisaki sighed, paddling out the hallway. He shouldn’t, he knew. Uncle Neji, grandfather, and his Aunt Hanabi had made it clear. 

However something compelled him to do so. The feeling was as natural and instinctive as when he dodged and redirected one of Kouto’s palm strikes during their various training session. 

He settled beneath the blossom tree, somewhat snuggling into it. The wind scattered petals all over the courtyard, with some eventually falling into the koi pond. 

Hisaki ran over hastily. Looking, smiling as the small school of fishes danced. 

He looked up at the glowing moon above. Hisaki reached out his hands as if grasping on to something larger than life. There were times he wished he could fly. If that was so, he would fly to the moon

Eventually his little fingers dropped back down to his sides. He could not suppress a frown. Not the way his mama, uncle, and especially his grandfather did so easily. He remembered once when Kenji remarked how un-Hyuga his impulsive and “fiery” his nature was. 

“Little flame” the man would say. Hisaki wondered where Kenji was now. Perhaps if he could truly fly to the moon, then he could fly to every corner of the earth to find Kenji.

His right hand went into his pocket, stroking Kenji’s insignia as gently as Mama would stroke his cheek. 

Through the corner of his eyes he saw a flash of light. Then, flashes of light— that disappeared into the direction of the woods as quickly as they came..

Ignoring his head, and the warnings of his grandfather.

He ran.

His footsteps, light and airy, adjusted so that the objects of his pursuit would not be alarmed. 

Despite the lack of rustling of the leaves and cracking of branches; his heart rammed against his ribcage so hard he thought the vibration would shake the ground and swallow him whole.

His pulse quickened and race so that he felt as light as air and as swift as lightning. 

The thunderous thumping of his heart muffled the nagging voice in his head telling him to turn back, drowning out his fears. 

Focusing chakra to his eyes, veins bulged out of his temple as the Byakugan came to life. Gone. No trace. No light. No sign. 

Creatures suddenly charged at him. He froze. Nearly. Only the excited cackling of it yanked him back. 

He mustered as much strength and speed as he could as he broke the creatures. Dolls— no puppets.

They were all flying towards him with full force— until something suddenly pulled them back. No, someone.  

“That’s enough don’t you think now” the voice muttered. Hisaki was unsure of the man’s words were directed at him or the puppets— or perhaps the man himself. But there was something akin to a sneer in its tilt. 

Hisaki shifted, he tucked his extended right hand behind his back, and extended the other forward. The man slowly turned facing him. He has no eyes. How…strange.

The man smiled. It wasn’t Mama’s warm smile, or Kenji’s small yet genuine one, nor Uncle Naruto’s bright beaming grin. There was something malicious.

Of course there was, why else would he approach you?

But there was something in his smile that told Hisaki that this man had somehow known him for a long time. Hisaki steeled his own stance.

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance little lord” the man drawled. Hisaki’s left foot slid forward. “Peace, I come in peace” the man chuckled. 

“Yes because your puppets were such wonderful messengers of your intentions.” Hisaki spat, somehow that fire came naturally. 

The man sized him up and down a smile crawled into his lips— disturbingly so that Hisaki felt his face morph into disgust and himself physically recoiling. His hands dropped to his side as he straightened himself out of the juuken stance. 

“Who are you?” The words fell from his lips were dripped with curiosity, wonder, and exasperation.

”My name is Toneri Otsutsuki.” Came the curt reply.

Then the lights started flashing again, this time they didn’t run from him. They surrounded him. And engulfed him. 

Chapter Text

The messenger hawk brought the news before dawn broke. 

Short. Nonetheless troubling. 

"Hisaki Hyuga. Missing. Possibly abducted." 

His heart dropped. Shikamaru crumbled the piece of paper with one hand, pinching his nose with the other.

Naruto walked up behind him, rubbing his eyes. "What's going on?"

He closed the scroll, mind racing. Hinata had left earlier with Sakura to fetch water.

Naruto, knucklehead as he was, seemed to realise something was wrong. "What does it say?" He pressed. 

Shikamaru ignored him. 

Hinata. If he told her now...she'll run loose, alone- perhaps that was precisely what Toneri wanted. 

A mother who believes her child to be in danger is the most unpredictable force in the world. 

Shikamaru sighed. Then jumped slightly when Naruto snatched the scroll out of his hands. His face twisted into worry and anger. 

Shikamaru took back the scroll, stuffing it into his vest. 

"Listen, keep this from the others- and especially from Hinata, got it?"

Naruto jerked back. “What?! Shikamaru, she has a right to—”

"I know." He snapped back quietly. But she'll break away, she might run straight to Toneri- just as he might as well have planned from the beginning. 

Naruto's fists clenched. "She deserves to know." 

"And I'll tell her...when we have a lead...when we won't just be running in blind."

Naruto swallowed hard, looking down. 

It felt cruel. 

"Let's find the direction of Hisaki's chakra first- then we'll tell her. Together." 

Naruto nodded slowly and reluctantly. 

Chapter Text

He woke to silence.

Not the tranquil one back home. Nor the hushed one in the mornings before training. 

It was hollow.

This isn't home. 

Hisaki slid off the bed silently. The floor ice-cold underneath his feet. Someone had put him in pale, unfamiliar robes. It stuck and leeched to him in a way that felt sickly unnatural. His stomach twisted and coiled. He inhaled.

Activated his Byakugan. Veins bulged to life, his dark eyes transformed into white. His vision spread outward. 

That was when he felt it.

A flicker. Of familiar chakra. A glimpse. Of a familiar figure. 

Kenji.

His chest tightened as he swallowed hard to push the emotion down.

I won't cry. I won't give that freak the satisfaction. 

He glanced around the room and the vast corridors that encompassed it. No guards, no seal. 

It felt strange. Almost intentional. As if his captor wanted him to wander. 

Hisaki approached the door. It slid open on its own. 

Moonlight filtered through tall windows carved into the walls of the floating palace. Outside, the sky wasn’t the sky — it was space. Endless black, dotted with cold stars.

Hisaki stiffened.

We’re not on Earth.

The realization chilled him more than the air.

He moved quickly but quietly, bare feet silent against the smooth floor. His Byakugan guided him. As he descended deeper into the palace, the air grew colder, the halls narrower. Hisaki hugged himself through the thin fabric of his robe.

Then...A sound. Metal. Dragging. Faint.

Hisaki froze.

Kenji’s chakra flickered urgently, as if beckoning him over. Like how he would often beckon him over before sweeping Hisaki up in his arms. 

He ran. Ran as if he were in the compound ago- running to leap into Kenji's arms. 

His breath was sharp, his eyes stung, his legs shaking, but he soldiered on.

Finally, he came face-to-face with a door.  A heavy one at that. 

Hisaki pushed.

The door groaned.

Moonlight spilled into the chamber.

His breath stilled in his throat.

Chains hung from the ceiling.
And at the center—

“...Kenji…?”

Kenji hung limp, arms pulled above him by heavy, glowing restraints. His skin was pale and bruised. His hair stuck to his face. His chest rose in shallow, painful breaths. Seals burned dimly at his wrists and ankles.

He didn’t even look up.

Hisaki stepped forward, voice trembling despite his effort to steady it.

“Kenji… it’s me.”

No answer. Hisaki reached out, hand shaking violently now, unable to hide it anymore.

He touched Kenji’s arm.

Kenji flinched, barely conscious, a pained noise escaping him. For a moment, the boy just stood there, frozen, breath caught halfway in his chest.

Then he pressed his forehead against Kenji’s forearm, eyes squeezed shut.

“I found you,” he whispered. He didn’t know if Kenji could hear him.

He said it again anyway.
“I found you.”

Then, he heard footsteps approaching. 

Chapter Text

Pain had stopped being sharp days ago.

Now it was a dull, constant hum — like his nerves had given up trying to warn him. His shoulders burned where the chains bit deepest. The seals carved into the cuffs pulsed, draining his chakra until even breathing felt heavy. He floated between sleep and waking.

But every time he slipped too far, someone’s voice pulled him back.

Not someone real. Memory.

A small boy’s voice. Laughing. Calling his name.

He clung to it.

Hisaki. Don’t think about him.
Don’t imagine him here.

A woman's giggle, her eyes, pale lilac-- glanced up at him shyly. Her smile, soft and petal made his heart bloom. 

The memory felt distant, the thought cruel. 

But his mind, weak and feverish, betrayed him again and again.

Time had no shape down here. The darkness never shifted. The cold never left. He didn’t know how many days it had been.

But suddenly, something changed.

A faint sound. Bare feet.
Light.
And—

A tiny, trembling voice.

“Kenji… it’s me.”

For a second, he thought he was dreaming again.
Another hallucination to torture him.

But then—

A small hand touched his arm.

Warm.

The first warmth he’d felt in weeks.

His eyes snapped open so fast the room spun.

Through blurry vision—

Hisaki.

Hisaki.

Not a hallucination.

Pale face.
Dark eyes wide with fear he was trying so hard to hide.
Moonlight around him like a halo.

Kenji’s heart lurched — painful, violent.

No. No. No.
He shouldn’t be here. He can’t be here.

Hisaki pressed his forehead to Kenji’s arm.
“I found you.”

Kenji’s throat tightened so hard he couldn’t breathe for a moment.

He tried to speak. Nothing came out but air.

He forced it again, dragging the sound through the dryness of his throat.

“H…Hisaki…”

The boy stiffened, eyes lifting to him.

Before Kenji could say more—

Footsteps.

Toneri.

Kenji’s blood went cold.

“No…” he rasped, voice cracking. “Don’t— don’t you touch him.”

His chakra was gone. His strength was gone. But instinct — raw, primal — surged through what remained of him.

He lurched forward.

The chains snapped him back, tearing the skin at his wrists. The sound was wet. Pain exploded down his arms.

Hisaki gasped. “Kenji—!”

Kenji ignored the pain completely, eyes locked on the tall, pale figure entering the chamber.

Toneri’s voice was calm, almost gentle.

“So. The boy found you after all.”
He stepped further inside.
“No matter. I intended for him to.”

Hisaki stepped backward — but Kenji moved again, straining so hard the chains groaned.

“Stay behind me—”
His voice died as the chains yanked him down to one knee.
He wheezed, but still glared at Toneri with feral stubbornness.

Toneri observed the scene with mild curiosity.

“How remarkable,” Toneri said. “Even starved, drained, and at death’s edge… you still try to shield him.”

Kenji bared his teeth.
“Come near him… I’ll kill you.”

It was pathetic. Empty. He had nothing left.

But he meant it with every cell in his body.

Toneri’s eyes softened, disturbingly serene.

“You misunderstand, Kenji.”

He turned his gaze toward Hisaki.

“I have no intention of harming the child. He is… important.”

Hisaki stiffened.

Kenji’s pulse hammered.

"You however..."

Toneri stepped closer. His head tilted in arrogance. "You are disposable."

Kenji roared, the sound tearing from somewhere deep in his chest — but his voice cracked halfway through, collapsing into a ragged cough.

He pulled against the chains until his vision spotted with black.

Toneri ignored him.

“You have awakened, Hisaki Hyuga,” Toneri murmured. “And your eyes… though peculiar in color, hold a purity even the main branch has forgotten.”

Hisaki tried not to shake. Kenji saw it anyway.

Toneri continued, almost reverent: “You belong here.”

Kenji’s voice scraped out, barely more than a whisper.
“Don’t… listen… to him…”

Toneri smiled faintly. Almost fatherly.
“You will understand in time.”

He extended a hand toward the boy.

Hisaki took a step back.

Kenji moved so violently his chains screamed.

“RUN—!” he shouted, voice breaking.

Toneri raised one finger.

The chains surged with blinding white chakra.

Agony detonated through Kenji’s body. His scream cut through the entire chamber.

Hisaki lunged forward—
“KENJI!”

The last thing Kenji saw before darkness swallowed him—

Toneri’s hand on Hisaki’s shoulder.

And the boy’s eyes wide with terror he could no longer his fear. 

Chapter Text

He always found the walls of the Hyuga compound cold. Vast and empty too, but above all cold.

But this- this was like biting snow. 

Hisaki walked silently, attempting his best to show that Toneri's presence did not unnerve him. 

And that the cold hand perched on his shoulder did not unsettle him. 

Kenji often held on to his shoulder like that. In the same gentle guiding way. 

But Toneri's touch was hollow, like a puppet imitating warmth. 

As if on cue, Toneri came to a stop. He turned around, smiling. Though it didn't reach his eyes. 

"You need not fear me..." 

Hisaki failed to keep his face from twisting into disgust. 

"And why should I not?" The boy snarled. "You had your freaky puppets watch me- I know that now. You took me here from my home!" He screamed. 

He thought of Kenji, chained up. "You hurt my...my.." The words died on his tongue. He shook his head as if to shake away those unsaid words. 

"Kenji. You hurt Kenji." He said resolutely. 

Toneri laughed. "Poor little boy..." He remarked sardonically. "But no matter, I can give you things he could not, guidance- guidance not even your father could have given you." 

"My father?" Hisaki froze. He bit his lip in a futile attempt to stop from trembling.

He felt a lump in his throat before finally forcing words to come out. 

How dare Toneri?  

"Shut up! You know nothing !" Hisaki yelled fiercely. 

"I don't need you! Or him!" He spat venomously- but his body trembled in anger and fear.

I only need my mother, he thought. It was always him and Mama. She loved him enough for an entire clan, he was sure of it. Her warmth could shield him from a harsh blizzard. He knew it. 

"And let Kenji go!" 

Toneri stared at him for what felt like forever.

"No." Came the clipped answer. "Not yet." 

He turned around and strode away.

Hisaki stood alone, abandoned in that cold, vast, empty hall. 

Perhaps you are like my father, he thought bitterly.