Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto

Notes: I know this chapter is short, but it seems to fit. Short but there. There is definitely going to be a part two and I intended to write more, but it didn't fit or end this chapter correctly. This chapter felt like it needed to be short and impact-full. I like it. I do. I am also so very excited. I know its slow but one day we will leave this era. Maybe head on to the academy or a different route. *Shrugs*

Anyways have a cozy day readers.

Shimura Danzo

Another step I enter a hissing chorus of the man's presence and for the first time I keep eye contact with a stranger. No family. My fading colored orbs shine with curiosity as my face matches with curiosity's colors and mixes with the colors of happiness and, of course, a stroke of a dark shyness. Another step I see how his dark orbs of brunt umber seem endless and cold. Secrets and knowledge drip like molasses within his eyes.

Another step and I become only six steps away from him.

I bow in respect and introduce myself befitting of a heiress. I become less of a human and more of an art. I do not stutter. Though my voice is twinged in a bundle of fraying nerves that is stitched together with a string of shyness. My voice is soft.

I do not stutter. He is family. One of the few things that this mirage of a girl knows. Family, her eyes, and manners.

Straightening I began to meet the bandaged man with his assessing eye. I smile a soft smile that screams for acceptance, and the man's eye glints at a speed few would catch. A glint that shows interest, or, perhaps, a meaning for use. The dripping molasses of secrets and knowledge begins to flood the systems and a persistent scratching begins to hound at me to decipher its meaning. Thousands of assumptions flood my mind, the synapses fire rapidly pulsing with a wave of information, experience, and that dual paranoia. Within seconds only of few scenarios linger. None speaking louder in logic and all seeped with a dulled sense of edged tension. Another quick glint flashes through dark eyes and a smile slowly stitches upon the man's weathering face and just a slowly as it un-threads.

A feeling passes within my lungs speaking in tongues.

A language I have always had wired into my bones and soul.

Old scars in spirit show underneath this new skin, telling of the years and lessons learnt to understand it. The bleeding cuts of various sizes show how ever changing it is. How un-tamable it is. I must always adapt. I must always listen to the prophetic gibberish faithfully even if its vision is obscured through thick fog and winding roads. I must come to the end whatever it may be.

And I have come to the end of this path tangled in a dark fog filled with vines. Its speaks and shows.

I have past some sort of test. The man knows me. He has been watching.

The few scenarios plucked from thousands are burned to ash until one is left. He has been watching. Questions begin to drown my mind. How? Why? How long? Does he know? They are a screaming canopy of a dense jungle. None are answered.

Among the chaos a voice slithers silently yet it cancels the chorus of noise. My mask is useless in front of this man. He knows. He allows. He holds more power than the other hunter of flaxen-blonde.

In the midst of my tangling mind I keep the mask of a shy girl who finds strength in her family and I listen with a sharp ear. The man has begun his introductions.

"I am Shimura Danzo and I have come to meet you Hyuuga Hinata. Watashi no mago no Hinata-chan." (My grandchild, Hinata.)

The deceitful web that I have created catches another spider.