Note : I did not reread this chapter or the last three before posting them. (It is not a fun thing to do). I'm sorry if there are mistakes, I'll try to correct them once I've caught up with the original fiction. Enjoy your reading.
Chapter size : 11500 words.
Opal and Obsidian
Part 5
Hinata
June 3 1017
Land of Iron
She had thought that the four hundred samurai would have left for the village by the time the bird returned, but that was not the case. They had come to the top of the mountain, around the hut, around her, and had set up camp in the clearing and part of the betula forest.
The lilac field was gone, trampled. Campfires lit the treetops and tents reached for the stars. Her garden had also seen the passage of the Ban. The same garden she had expanded and harvested in less than ten minutes. Her tomatoes, zucchini, lettuce and potatoes were gone, eaten by some fifty men, and what little greenery remained had been eaten by the thirty or so horses.
As for the rest of the Ban, the villagers of Shinjō had fed them.
It had been a day since the dove had flown away, and in that time, blinking had become an automatism she had tried to live without. Sleeping had simply been banned from her vocabulary.
How could she?
Two men, two strangers, shared her thirty square meters. Four hundred others scattered the hectare that the peak represented. The situation was beyond uncomfortable. Awake, she had nothing to fear, she knew that. For that reason, and knowing her leaden sleep, she hadn't gone to bed.
This was not the case for the two samurai. They had taken turns sleeping outside her brand new cell.
The windows of the hovel were covered with sheets and towels. The door was always closed, and when the Crown Prince or the Kashira went out, they made sure that no one could peek inside.
The Prince had been the first to go to sleep. Sitting on the chair in the kitchen, she had stopped pretending to read in order to discuss with the Kashira. Strangely enough, when she had offered him to sit down, the man had refused and remained standing at the entrance.
He had not asked her any questions and had answered hers for hours.
Doroppu.
An earthquake, a cataclysm that you only saw in movies, read about in books. A tremor that had been felt several hundred kilometers from the village. A wall of dust and debris that had grazed the clouds and swept away everything in its path.
The wrath of the gods.
That was how the samurai had described what had devastated the battlefield on the borders of Earth and Rain.
Of the two thousand people more than a kilometer from the epicenter, only one survived. A Leaf Ninja, a Kunoichi, a woman. The only one who escaped the divine punishment. And the craziest part of the story was that she escaped unharmed, without a scratch.
A true miracle.
She could only imagine the trauma of the woman afterwards. The images that looped and kept you from closing your eyes, from grieving. Cold sweats, nightmares, fear, doubt, grief. All mixed together to become one. To ruin a life.
The war, like the previous ones, had ended with an armistice, followed by a peace treaty. She had no doubt that this treaty, like the previous ones, would be violated at some point. That, as always, those who had not witnessed the massacres would go to war again.
Doroppu would soon be a distant memory.
A week after the peace treaty had been signed, two months earlier, the funeral of Princess Hyūga - her funeral - had been held in Konoha. She, who had thought that everyone hated her, had been surprised to learn that her funeral had been broadcast on the largest television station in the peninsula, one of the few that was present in all the countries that made it up, and that the audience had broken all records.
Even more than the handshake between the Hokage and the Tsuchikage in the Land of Grass.
She had to admit it, if it was true, Konoha had done a good job. A very good job. Orchestrating her abduction to declare war and then her death to look like the victim of it... even in her wildest dreams, she couldn't have imagined it.
For the first time, television cameras had been allowed inside the Leaf, and according to the Kashira, the world had mourned her death. Something that, of course, she found hard to believe.
How many? How many people who had imagined, refined, and acted out her kidnapping had stood in front of the cameras and feigned sadness? She really wondered.
Was her father in the front row?
Iron was not known for its advanced technology, unlike the major countries that had benefited greatly from the war. At most, a thousand televisions could be found in the country of over ten million people, and according to the samurai, Shinjō village had none, to her great relief.
These men and women would have recognized her if that had been the case, and the news of her reappearance would not have been confined to the four wooden walls of her hovel. This world, becoming more interconnected with each passing day, would have already known.
The heiress is alive.
In the middle of the night, while she was sitting in the wooden chair and was contemplating the candle on the table, the prince had returned, and the Kashira had disappeared.
She had never seen anyone so uncomfortable. Not even her in front of Sensei's first jokes.
Straight, one hand on the hilt of his katana, he had only glanced in her direction the four times she had turned her gaze to the kitchen window.
She frightened him, that was a fact. She had been able to confirm that when he had nearly slit her throat as she had gotten up to put some chakra back into the seal that was heating the room.
Yes, even in the middle of summer, the temperature was down to single digits around four in the morning. Sometimes it was even negative if the sea breeze came along.
She really did not like this country, this region, this mountain.
The Prince had raised his katana, and she had raised her hands in return. When he had realized what she was about to do, after he had felt the last warm breath of the seal, he had given her an evil look.
Can't you just get dressed? Was the curt question he had asked her.
Still wrapped in her simple nightgown, she had looked tiredly at the outfit she was wearing, and the urge to point out that she was in her house had crossed her mind. Then she remembered that this was not the case. In fact, she was in his house, on his father's land, and had been living there illegally for over two years.
Not seeking conflict despite the rudeness, she had simply kept quiet and bowed her head to apologize for her attire.
Sensei had often pointed out to her that her behavior was a paradox. That she was shy like no other except in front of him and Naruto, but on the other hand, she had no modesty, even in front of strangers.
After much thought, she had concluded that it was related to her imprisonment. To the non-existent intimacy she had been given for nine years. Unlike most of the women she had met, seen in movies, and imagined in books, she felt absolutely no discomfort at being ogled.
She had been used to it. She was still used to it.
But here the problem was not only her. This Prince, this Musashi, had a real problem with the female body, it could not be otherwise. Because when she, lost in her thoughts, had started to take off her nightgown in front of the wardrobe, the choking in her back had immediately caught her attention and, following some insulting mumblings, she had been surprised to see the samurai completely turned back towards the door of the hovel.
A problem so big that it made him let his guard down.
At that moment, she could have easily knocked him out, confident that he would not be able to fight back, however, she had simply changed her clothes. She had put on a pair of high white cotton socks and a thick pants of the same color. Two black t-shirts and a purple sweater.
Why had she put on so many clothes? The answer was simple: she had seen Hayato arrive even before the animal had passed the mountain pass beyond Shinjō. And she had no doubt about the message the bird carried.
Five minutes later, Kashira had entered the hovel and confirmed her thought.
The Daimyō wanted to meet her. As soon as possible. Which was not surprising. Curiosity, especially morbid curiosity, was hard to suppress. It wasn't every day that one could see the Byakugan. Hinata Hyūga's Byakugan on top of that.
She hadn't said anything, hadn't protested.
For most of the night, while the chief samurai had answered her questions, she had hesitated to move. The possibility of leaving, of disappearing, was always there and was the best solution, but the story of this person who had lived in Konoha and had been betrayed like her, fascinated her.
How did this person know that the top leaders of the village had betrayed her, had sold her out? Wasn't this information something that those who knew about it were killed for? Like the leaders of the moderate faction, the chiefs of the Nara, Yamanaka and Akimichi clans?
At least these were Sensei's assumptions.
The disappearance of the big names of the most influential faction of the Leaf who had opposed Danzō Shimura's investiture was strange, but there was no evidence that it was more than a coincidence.
Kashira had not wanted to tell her more about this person. Speaking in someone else's name was not easy, she knew that, that was why she had not insisted. Maybe it was a trap and the samurai was bluffing, maybe it was the truth, she didn't know, but she had made up her mind: she would go to Isanawa.
Despite the darkness and in groups, the samurai had folded their tents, packed their belongings, fetched the horses from the edge of the forest and returned to the bottom of the mountain to await further orders. She had no doubt that the entire Ban had been wondering who was in the hut, who was the person for whom the windows had been covered so that they could not see him or her. But following Kashira's orders, no one had tried to find out.
When the clearing was empty of people, of flowers, a closed carriage with opaque curtains had appeared in front of the porch, and she had understood that her moment had come. Her first instinct had been to look for a change of clothes, but the prince had stopped her immediately.
Some clothes would be given to her when she arrived. He would never, ever let her appear before her father in her peasant garb; it would be an unforgivable affront.
She had bent her back again, and then, tired and after more than a day without sleep, she had taken the yellow-rimmed book and climbed into the carriage, alone. The sidelong, wide-eyed gaze of the samurai - the coachman - sitting on the outside seat without a helmet had been memorable.
The two men had followed the carriage until they reached the Ban below, then the Kashira had gone in front to reach the head of the group.
She had left her hovel for an indefinite time, but she had left a small piece of paper in the seal that warmed the wood. A message that only one person could find. A note indicating where she was going.
If the place seems deserted, it's because I didn't come back, or I couldn't. I am in Isanawa, come and get me. I love you.
Sitting opposite the coachman, with her elbows on the armrest and her chin in the palm of her hand, she admired the endless forests that passed by the small opening in the maroon curtain.
The echo of the droning voices of the samurai surrounding the carriage covered her weary sigh.
It had been more than twelve hours since the horse's hooves had pounded on her eardrums, six hours since her lips were dry, three hours since her belly was rumbling. The sun was setting on the horizon, and the Ban would surely not stop. Only a ten-minute break a few hours earlier had made her forget the sound of the four irons against the pebbles.
Had they forgotten her?
Lost in her thoughts and in the darkness of the cabin, she startled as the handle clicked.
She immediately sat up straight on the double leather seat and watched as the gray helmet rushed in. The door closed and the newcomer, careful not to touch her as space was so limited, sat down in front of her, bowl and glass in hand.
She did not need to hear his muffled voice to know that it was the Prince. Besides, he barely had time to speak before she stole the glass of water from him.
"This is all..."
She drank greedily to the point where she let out a moan.
A little more and the hallucinations would have manifested. It was a close call. She didn't want to see him again, ever.
She returned the glass to the Crown Prince's right hand and immediately grabbed the rice bowl. She retrieved the chopsticks that were stuck in the starch and began to eat, ignoring the gray helmet.
"Aren't you a princess?"
The somewhat surprised question echoed around the cabin, and she waited more than thirty seconds, enough time to devour half of the bowl, to finally pay an ounce of attention to the two red lights that illuminated the darkness in front of her.
The haughty voice continued.
"You are the heiress of the Hyūga clan, yet you dress like a peasant, you behave like a peasant, where are your manners?"
She never got angry. Well, she did, but it wasn't really anger, more like frustration. She was made that way, nothing could make her angry enough to be overwhelmed by hate. However, this Prince was able to push her to her limits.
Bowl and chopsticks raised to the level of her face, she gently lowered the ceramic and the two woods. A soft, fake smile spread across her porcelain face as she swallowed.
"I'm sorry, Your Highness, my tutor did not have time to complete my education. She died trying to protect me. Unfortunately, she could not accompany me to my cell for nine years."
Sarcasm was not her strong suit, she only practiced it on rare occasions, that's why she made her smile disappear and bit her lips when she realized the enormity of what she had just said.
Don't notice it. Stupid. Don't notice it. Dumb. Don't notice. Fool.
"Nine years...? It's been four years since you escaped?"
The bowl surrounded by her two hands on her legs and under the shaking of the carriage, she remained silent.
She, who didn't talk a lot, always said too much.
"How?"
Silently, she just stared at the helmet, and she could guess the frustration on the Prince's face without even using her eyes.
"Answer."
Dry and beginning to grow impatient, the Prince's tone made her understand that he was not used to not being answered. So she opened her mouth, but the answer remained stuck inside.
There it was again and again. She just couldn't bring it up. She had realized it at the campfire and in the hotel when Sensei had first asked her, and even in the two years she had been with them, she had never mentioned it. She never did. She couldn't, something was blocking her, and she didn't know what...
What was the question again?
"I was lucky."
The silence lasted for a moment until the Prince placed the glass on the leather of the seat he was sitting on. Then, after a slight sigh, he crossed his arms.
"Do you know how to lie? It doesn't seem so."
Her eyelids crinkled and her eyebrows furrowed. She stared at him, and a rhetorical question came to her mind: Who does he think he is?
"I'm going to ask you some questions, just answer yes or no."
A prince, for sure.
She wanted to object, to thank him for the water and the rice, to tell him that she was tired and wanted to be alone, but he immediately started to deny her the opportunity.
"Your eyes, are they yours?"
Not knowing what to say to such a stupid question, she nodded hesitantly.
"Yes or no, no head movement, intonation is important."
Without knowing how, she managed to hold back her sigh.
"Yes, these are my eyes."
What was he trying to find out, if she had transplanted it? Unlikely. Or was he trying to find out her intonation when she was telling the truth?
More likely.
"Are you sixteen years old?"
"Yes, I am."
"You'll be seventeen on the twenty-seventh of December?"
Her eyelids widened slowly.
"Yes."
So that was indeed the case. Everyone knew her by then. Even a prince from a neighboring country knew her birth date.
Was she the most famous person, or rather the most famous dead person in this world?
"Were you kidnapped in Konoha when you were four years old?"
"Yes, I was."
"Are you a virgin?"
She paused for a moment before answering. The question had come out of nowhere, and she was sure that all the questions had only been to get to this one.
Why did he want to know that? Was it to find out if Kumo had the Byakugan? No, it was not that, the Iron did not care. But why then?
"Yes."
He sighed. For a long time.
Contrary to what she had thought, her answer had irritated him, she could easily feel it. However, she had not lied.
"If the court asks you this question, answer no and be as convincing as possible. Pretend that you met a young man or something, but don't say you are."
Her eyebrows furrowed a second time.
"Why should I lie?"
And for the second time, he sighed.
"Have you never looked in a mirror? If you do not lie, the court, my father, will get ideas."
Never looked in a...? Will get ideas...?
Her body temperature rose dramatically, reaching her cheeks. It wasn't embarrassment, it was anger. A lot of anger.
Here she contradicted what she had just thought. She had understood perfectly what the Prince had said, and the anger had not been long to come. This man really annoyed her.
Perhaps she needed to explain the reason for her presence in this carriage, it seemed to be unclear.
With an impassive face, she looked at the helmet despite the darkness.
"I'm not going to Isanawa to get married, let alone to get laid. I am only going there to meet this man, nothing more. I'm only there because I want to be, at the slightest suspicion I'll disappear, you won't be able to stop me, do you understand? I am not your prisoner, I do not belong to you. Your court, your father, your land, your country, this peninsula, has no control over me."
Although her words were direct, her respect for the Daimyō was not there and her expression was filled with contempt, her voice, on the other hand, was the calmest. Not that she could control herself even when she was angry, she was sure she couldn't, but because to raise her voice would mean that there would be silence around the carriage. Something she did not want.
"You see, you are convincing."
With both hands firmly gripping the bowl of rice, she wondered how it had not yet exploded under the pressure of her fingers.
"Well, I'll let you finish your meal, try to sleep, you look bad."
Under the clatter of his armor, the thirty-year-old left without another word. The door closed and she was alone again. Or at least the frustration was with her now.
What was wrong with this world? Couldn't they leave her alone? Leave her body alone? She would meet this man, listen to what he had to say, and then return to the hovel. And if that wasn't possible, then she would simply disappear.
Yuki no Kuni, the Land of Snow, seemed like a suitable destination. The name had already been given to her, and she would like to see the technological progress the country offered. The ones she had heard about before she became an Iron Hermit.
Since the Leaf had helped them financially during the Great War, a year before she escaped, the country had made even more dizzying technological leaps than it was used to.
The nation's latest invention, after the chakra armor Konoha had used during the war, was the high-speed train, which, according to the conversations she had overheard around the carriage, was being built in the north of Hi.
Soon, Natoma and Hachinohe, the capital of Fire, would be connected. A journey that normally took more than four days on foot could be made in less than two hours.
Surreal.
If the journey to Snow Island was not possible, then the Wildlands and their tribes beyond the North Sea would be her destination. They were not known to be friendly and had no technology, but at least no one would go there to look for her.
No one would go there to look for her... right?
The rest of the journey was faster than she thought, and for good reason: she had fallen asleep the whole way. After eating the rice, she had fought to stay awake, but the two days without sleep had taken its toll on her.
Sitting on the leather seat, her head resting on the window curtain under the incessant shaking of the carriage, she had ended up mechanically sitting on the wood between the two seats after the thousandth blow of her forehead against the window. Then, finally, with her right arm resting on the leather and her cheek on her elbow, she had fallen asleep, or almost fainted, for more than five hours...? Ten? Twenty?
Maybe one day of opening her eyes every ten minutes and being awakened by the laughter, the words, the shaking, the cracking, the wind, the silence, her dreams, her nightmares, her thoughts. The handle. The daylight. The flow of words. The pounding in her eardrums. The fear, the incomprehension, the fright. The realization.
More times than she could count, she banged the back of her head against the wood of the cabin and winced as she put the palm of her hand in front of her retina. Her tongue pasty, her lips parched, she tried as best she could to see through the sun's rays and watch the face of the helmetless Kashira.
With his arm extended towards her, he held a black cloth in the palm of his hand.
"Cover your face, please."
With a numb gesture and a terrible pain in her kidneys, she stood up and grabbed the fabric. Then she pulled the towel over her head, retrieved the book with the yellow ornament, and got out of the carriage without waiting.
The buzz of a village in full swing reached her immediately. Discussions, laughter, footsteps, everything reached her.
Had she arrived? Already? She had heard that the journey would take two days.
The heat of the sun reached her peasant's clothes, and the surprise of stepping on something other than parched or soggy earth made her forget her questions.
Cobblestones. The ground was literally covered with gray, rectangular stones. Wherever she was, there was no doubt that she had definitely left the countryside.
"This way."
With her hands raised above her face to hold the cloth, she followed Kashira's lead and the damp but warm air embraced her. A small smile of surprise and satisfaction appeared on her hidden face.
She was in Isanawa.
It had been over two years since she had felt the true warmth of summer, and it made her immeasurably happy.
Isanawa was located south of the village of Shinjō and was surrounded by three mountains, the largest of which, Norikura, with a height of more than two thousand meters, along with the Tsukuba and Tsugori mountains, which reached one thousand five hundred meters, formed a veritable giant basin where the capital of the region had been established for over four hundred years.
Due to its geographical location, the city was known to retain the heat and repel the cold, and although temperatures sometimes dropped below zero, this logically made it the most populous city in the Land of Iron, with more than three hundred thousand inhabitants. She had to admit that its reputation preceded it. It was hot, very hot. It was the first time she had felt heat that was certainly above thirty degrees, and she didn't have the words to explain how much she missed it.
Just walking made her sweat. An incredible feeling.
She only had time to move her legs four times before the horse's hooves clattered on the stone path and the carriage pulled away. Another step and the clanking of armor to her right and left greeted the man walking in front of her.
"Deisuke-sama."
"Deisuke-sama."
The surrounding sounds became less present, more attentive. The whispers did the same.
"Who is she? Why is she hiding?"
"Isn't it, Deisuke-sama?"
It was a good thing she had thought to bring a pair of shoes, otherwise the cobblestones would have burned her feet right through her socks.
"Is she a candidate for Mitsunari-sama?"
"Did you see how she's dressed?"
After the cobblestones came gravel, then rocks perfectly cut into the ground, forming a path she tried to follow. The shadow of an arch passed, the whispering of the alley became silence. Four rocks and the bustle of the city was no longer audible. At eight, all outside sounds were covered by the trickling of water.
At the twelfth lukewarm rock, Kashira's reinforced shoes stopped in front of her, and she repeated the exact same gesture at the eleventh.
"You can uncover yourself."
Little surprised by the request, she pulled back the opaque fabric and the light of day did not wait to dazzle her.
Blinded and disoriented, she inhaled the scent of the cherry tree and blinked several times to make out the face that towered over her. To examine the brown irises of the samurai. Inevitably, the structure behind him drew her attention and she raised her gaze to the house.
Well, could she really call it a house? Her hovel was pathetic next to it. A hundredth, nothing more.
In front of them was a floor of light brown wood, open to the outside, to them. In the middle of the floor, a beam rose more than four meters high to support the roof that covered the fifty square meters of the large hallway. On the right and on the left, two walls of wood and canvas closed the whole and gave, on the other side of the floor, on an immense interior courtyard, which opened on the rest of the residence.
In the middle of the courtyard, a huge cherry tree with pink petals filtered the sunlight and perfumed the atmosphere with its scent.
Captivated by the size of the woods, the tiles, and the canvases, she turned around to examine the surroundings, and her gaze could only wander.
About twenty meters away and at the end of the rocky path she had just walked was a huge black-tiled arch with two red pillars. On either side of it was a wall more than three meters high, running north and east for more than forty meters, surrounding a magnificent garden that she had only seen in movies of that era.
A small river flowed along the east wall, passing under a small bridge decorated with bamboo, rocks, and flowers. Small Cascade maples, five-leaf pines, and boxwoods were scattered throughout the garden. Accompanied by several trees that towered far above the walls, including oaks and beeches, all this created a space so harmonious under the soft sound of the flowing water that the first thing she thought of was lying down on the small bridge and reading until she fell asleep.
"Your room has been prepared, it's in the western part, on the left after the third door."
She turned her curious gaze back to the Kashira and immediately made her smile disappear. With a hand raised towards the house and her full attention, he continued.
"This is the residence of the Third Crown Prince, Mitsunari-sama, but he rarely goes there. Like the six sons of the lord, he lives in the castle with His Majesty. So you should feel at ease."
She bowed slightly, thanking him for the information.
"It will be dark soon, the court will gather in the morning, and I will come for you then. If you're hungry, the kitchen is in the northern part, first corridor on the right."
She bowed her head again.
Right, left, one, two, three, corridor, part... this house seemed like a maze. She could only imagine what the Daimyō's castle looked like.
The Kashira brought his hand back down and repeated her gesture, which surprised her more than she would have liked to show.
Aside from the usual courteous tone, this was the first time he had physically shown her respect.
"In order to preserve the privacy of the residents of this city, I ask you not to use your eyes in this place. Don't see it as an attempt to deceive you, just a gesture of good manners."
Faced with this request, her smile simply reappeared.
"It wasn't my intention, don't worry about it."
He looked at her with a relieved expression before giving her the same grin.
"Thank you. Before I go, do you have any questions?"
She nodded.
She had hundreds of questions. Where was the Ban, the showers, the toilets, the lord, but most of all :
"Where is that man who used to live in Konoha, I would like to see him.
Over the hilt of his katana, the Kashira moved his hands behind his back and made his smile disappear.
"I was planning to go and warn him of your presence."
Immediately, she stepped back into the gravel, leaving the field clear for the garden exit.
"In that case, my questions can wait."
She bowed and he did the same before leaving. The armor disappeared in the shadow of the arch, she found herself alone and turned back to the house. Not without hesitation, she removed her black jikatabis and found herself in socks on the floor, which, strange as it may seem, did not crack under her weight.
Wood that made no sound when walked on... was she dreaming? Had she lost too much weight?
With a curious expression on her face, she walked to the center of the corridor until she reached the beam, and at first attracted by the idea of knowing what was in the two large rooms to her right and left, she finally shook her face and walked to the courtyard.
With the sound of the water muffled, still on the floor and protected from the sun's rays by the roof, she walked around the cherry tree with a thousand and one petals scattered on the gravel before reaching the west side. She walked down a shorter, narrower hallway, past one, two, then three sliding canvas doors and turned left to face a fourth. With a slow motion, she opened it, and again there was no squeak or noise.
Perhaps this house would accomplish the feat of making her appreciate wood again.
Big was a weak word to describe the room, in fact it was certainly bigger than her hut.
On the right were two armchairs and a small round table separated by a bookcase. On the left was a rectangular table closer to the floor and two cushions. In the right corner of the room were a rice straw tatami and a shikibuton and kakebuton.
Both the thin cotton mattress and the blanket had a distinctive emblem: a black circle intersected by two white stripes that stopped just short of the end of the circle.
She had no doubt that this was the Kamon of the family that ruled the city, the region, and was surprised to see it for the first time only now. Perhaps it was because the Shogun was the true leader of the country's armies and therefore the Daimyōs of the various regions did not display the emblem of their family, their clan, on every street corner as well as on every suit of armor and banner.
Or perhaps it was simply that this way of doing things was not ingrained in the customs of the samurai. After all, although hundreds of clans, thousands of families made up the country's army, they were all well and truly under the yoke of Tetsu, unlike the rest of the peninsula, where the clans often fought for their own interests before those of their village, their country.
Perhaps it was both.
Intrigued, she approached the teapot and glass on the coffee table. As she brushed her fingers over them, she realized that the tea had been prepared ten minutes earlier at the most. Following this conclusion, her first thought was logically to breathe chakra into her eyes to know if she was really alone, but remembering what she had just said to the Kashira, she did not.
As she put her book down on the table, a drop of sweat trickled down her back and an uncomfortable sensation forced her to take off her sweater and one of her two t-shirts. Folding them properly, she placed them next to the book and sat down, thirsty, before pouring herself a cup of tea. When she finished, she brought the ceramic glass to her lips and inhaled the sweet, warm smell of honey.
She was thirsty, completely dehydrated, and this tea came at the right time.
A sudden absurd thought crossed her mind, shedding light on the prince's strange behavior during the journey.
Just one glass of water for more than twenty hours of travel. Enough to dehydrate her.
The hypothesis quickly asserted itself as a possibility, and gently made her put down the tea to observe the smoke coming from it.
What if...
She shook her face vigorously and brought the pot to her lips.
No.
Just as she was about to take a sip, the floor creaked. It was short, and it wasn't from the room or the hallway leading to it. The sound came from the entrance to the residence. It was as if someone had just landed on the floor of the great main hall.
Was it him? Was it the man from Konoha?
Very quickly, she put the glass back on the table and stood up to face the outside heat. She turned and, a few meters from the cherry tree, turned her eyes to the right, to the beam in the middle of the floor, to the black irises.
Out of breath, he watched her with wide eyes, and she did the same.
It had only been a few minutes since Kashira had left... had that man run all the way here when he heard she was there?
"The rumors were true."
With his black hair tied back in a ponytail and two scars on the right side of his face, the man was clean-shaven. Slightly shorter than the prince, about one meter seventy-five and certainly about forty years old, he was dressed in a black silk kimono, completed by a belt of the same material and color.
Beige sandals on his feet, he had an unusual feature: his left arm was gone. Vanished. And a wooden stick helped him to stand, which created a strange paradox.
She didn't know where he had started to get here, but the movements of his breathless chest told her that it wasn't close. Which meant that he could move quickly when necessary, but needed a stick to walk the rest of the time.
Strange.
To her surprise, he bowed respectfully.
"It is an honor to meet you, Princess."
She opened her mouth and three words burned her lips, but he straightened and she closed it immediately.
The rumors were true...
In the hovel, the Kashira had said that it was he himself who had come up with the idea that a Hyūga might be behind Yuki Onna's story, but now she wondered if it was this man instead. He seemed to know her, seemed to be close to the Kashira, the Daimyō, and seemed to know the Hyūga. Maybe even more than she did.
Black eyes, black hair, dressed in black... was he...?
For the second time, her mind closed on the possibility.
It could not be. An Uchiha would never have been accepted in this land. Not after the century of war that the clan had fomented and ruled against the Iron before the founding of the hidden villages. The Uchiha were the most hated, envied and jealous family on the entire ninja peninsula, far more than the Hyūga, that was a fact. And the Iron hated them especially.
But... if he wasn't an Uchiha...
She opened her mouth again, and this time her question did not remain sealed behind her lips.
"Who are you?"
His breath controlled, the man took a step in her direction, his cane clattering to the floor.
"Forgive my rudeness, Princess, but may I verify your authenticity before I introduce myself?"
She stared at him.
Her... authenticity? How could he be sure that she was really... her? Wasn't it enough for him to simply observe her? Well, she meant, apart from Genjutsu and Henge, were there really techniques that could deceive reality?
"Do you mind if I come closer?"
Her eyebrows furrowed, she nevertheless nodded.
She was really curious what he was going to do to authenticate her.
Approaching her as he had just asked, he stopped a little more than three meters from her, at the edge of the steps that led down around the rectangular courtyard, at the edge of the shadow of her body that blocked the sunlight.
He leaned forward and the expression she had been wearing changed from concerned to surprised. She immediately lost contact with his burgundy gaze and, placing the cane on the ground next to one of the wooden poles that also circled the courtyard, he brushed his fingers over her dark, deformed shadow.
She could have sworn she lost control of her body for a split second.
She did not hesitate for a moment.
"Are you... a Nara?"
There was no doubt about it now. He was a member of this clan, those with physical characteristics were often confused with the Uchiha within Konoha itself.
Retrieving his cane, the man stood up and gave her a gentle smile. A smile that confirmed to her that they had both managed to confirm each other's identity.
"I haven't heard that name in a long time."
He tilted his face for the second time.
"I apologize again for my behavior, I hope you can understand it. My name is Shikaku and at the risk of repeating myself, it is an honor for me to meet you, Princess."
Nara... Nara... Nara... Shikaku Nara.
That name, she had read it somewhere... it had nothing to do with her garden, nothing to do with the book she had read in the hut, it was long ago, but she could not remember it...
Her eyes widened in astonishment.
"Is it you? Are you the one who wrote the report about my abduction?
The smile before her vanished in an instant. A second passed, then two, before the grin reappeared.
"Do you have somewhere I can sit? My leg is killing me and I feel like we have a lot to talk about."
Wanting to know the answer right away, she didn't hesitate for a second and took a step back, pointing her hand in the direction of the corridor. What followed surprised her.
Thanking her, he walked past her and immediately turned towards her room without her having to tell him. But she quickly concluded that he had heard where she had come from.
Closing the sliding door, she moved to the other side of the table, opposite where she had first sat, and with another wave of her hand, motioned for him to sit. He did so with an air of relief.
In turn, her buttocks married the cushion.
"You can drink the tea, I haven't touched it."
At her words, he offered her an umpteenth smile.
"Don't worry, they're not the type to poison their enemies. That would be cowardice, and to them, cowardice is far worse than death."
And she took the opportunity to reassure herself.
"Do they see me as their enemy?"
He took a sip before putting the glass back where he found it.
"I don't see any chains on your wrists and your room is much more luxurious than the one they gave me when I arrived."
It wasn't a direct answer to her question, but she understood what he was getting at.
As she was about to ask him the question that was bothering her, he anticipated her.
"Would it be indiscreet to ask you how you know the Great Sannin Jiraiya?"
A thousand images flashed through her mind as she heard the name, and feigning incomprehension at how precise and disturbing the request was, she raised an eyebrow.
"…Who?"
"The report you mentioned, I only sent it to him. If you are aware of its existence, it is because you have met him in one way or another, am I wrong?"
Understanding that there was no point in lying, she resigned herself to the idea of pretending.
This man was in the same boat as her, right? She could trust him.
"Yes, I know Sen..."
She closed her eyelids abruptly and sighed.
Was she doing this on purpose? Why couldn't she think before choosing her words?
She had lost the habit of talking, discussing, with anyone but her own thoughts. She really needed to get her act together.
"I know the great Sannin Jiraiya."
She opened her eyes again and met the impassive gaze of the Nara.
"Is he your master?"
Unable to correct the mistake she had just made, she nodded. With a slow gesture, the man sitting across from her took a second sip.
"It's surprising, to say the least."
With a thought that sent a huge amount of dopamine into her body, she placed her fingers on the edge of the table and looked into the dark irises, filled with hope.
"When was the last time you saw him?"
But from the look he gave her, she knew her hopes were in vain.
"It's been over sixteen years. The last time I saw him, or rather questioned him, he had just attacked an underground bunker. The act that earned him the title of deserter, but I suppose you know the story."
He drank a third time, and the wait was endless.
Yes, she knew.
"To be honest, he became a real ghost. I even doubted for several years that he had ever received my report about you.
He paused for a moment, and she didn't know if it was because of the expression on her face, but she could have bet that he had read her mind at that very moment... or else... the cognitive functions he possessed were far too fast for her to understand how he had come to that conclusion so quickly.
"You don't know where he is, do you? That explains why you stayed on top of that mountain for over two years. Why you did what you did to this village. Are you waiting for him to come back?"
Hypocritical as it might seem, it was not a white hair that came to her mind, but a golden one, and she found it very difficult to keep from showing her sorrow.
With a smile in the corner of her lips, she sighed discreetly.
"He was supposed to return after two months. It has been two years now."
Was she so needy that just chatting with a stranger gave her so much satisfaction?
"Do you know exactly where he was going?"
She doubted it was a good idea to reveal more information, but without knowing why, she could not help herself.
"To Kumo."
The Nara seemed to think for a long time before finally taking a third sip.
"Could this have something to do with the child of the Fourth?"
Despite her best efforts to keep her mouth shut, she couldn't hold her breath... and that was enough to give her away.
"You know him too, don't you?"
She couldn't deny it. She couldn't anymore. But...
"How?"
How did he know all this? It was the Leaf's best kept secret. Even more than hers. The people who knew about it could be counted on the fingers of one hand.
"I was one of the first on the scene when Kyūbi was defeated, and I saw the lifeless bodies of the Yondaime and his wife. I saw the gaping holes in their abdomens and the absence of a third body."
She remembered now, she remembered the day Sensei had told her who this man was, this Nara who had written the report about her. The leader of the Jōnin. The most influential man behind the Hokage, if not his equal.
Taking a deep breath, she understood that he was about to reveal information of utmost importance to her. And, for sure, it was not insignificant.
"A few days later, the night before they decided to revoke his Sannin title, I revealed to him the location of the bunker where the child was hidden."
She looked at him, speechless.
It was more than information, it was... treason.
"Is that why you are hiding here?"
The Kashira had told him that this man had been betrayed by Konoha, but in reality, and despite the fact that his gesture was meant to be justified, he was the one who had betrayed first.
He simply smiled at her.
"Not only that. If I had to list every single act that brought me here, I would need all day, but let's say that the report about you is the apotheosis."
Tingles ran down her spine.
The subject was back, the one she had almost forgotten, the one this man fascinated her so much.
"Everything you wrote in that report, is it true? Did my father..."
She couldn't finish the sentence. The truth was too hard to put into words. At least what she believed to be the truth.
"Yes."
No emotions, no excuses, just the truth.
The question that any sane person would ask relentlessly forced itself into her mind.
"Why?"
Though her father had never shown it to her, the fading memories she had cherished during her early years in captivity had left her with one feeling, only one, and it contradicted the report the Nara had written.
Her father loved her. Had loved her.
So, logically, she had been asking herself for almost four years now: Why? Why did her father have done this?
Seeming to think for a long time, the forty-year-old looked at her without blinking before he finally asked a question she had not expected.
"Tell me, Princess, have you ever heard of Shisui Uchiha?"
Shisui Uchi...
She didn't have a moment to think about it. The wood of the entrance cracked for the second time, but this time from the weight.
Frowning, she managed to hold back the reflex to use her eyes and, lowering her face to the Nara, stood up immediately.
"Sorry, I'll be right back."
The Kashira had not warned her about another visit.
Without knowing why, the man she now overlooked gave her a sad face for the first time, but she was too focused on the two strange presences about thirty meters away to care.
As soon as she had opened the sliding door, she knew that one of the two people was the Kashira and as soon as she had entered the inner courtyard, the question that had been on her mind disappeared.
Who was Shisui Uchiha?
By the end of her walk at the edge of the path leading to the gravel of the cherry tree, her thoughtful gaze faded, her breathing ceased, her eyes dried up, and her spine froze. Her muscles tensed, her hair bristled, her thoughts stopped... and the words replayed.
"The rumors were true."
Five meters away from her stoicism, just in front of the wooden pillar of the main corridor, the Kashira raised her arm towards the man beside her. A man in his forties, black hair, a... cane... one... arm...?
"This is the man who wanted to meet you."
Shikaku Nara bowed.
"It's an honor to meet you, Princess."
She inhaled sharply. Very hard. So hard that the former leader of the Jōnins stood up, stunned. Then the look in her eyes widened.
The veins around her opal eyes bulged and more than a hundred and sixty thousand people appeared. Kashira's blade popped several centimeters out of its sheath, and despite her sudden ocular omniscience, it took her more than a second to realize the situation.
He was no longer in the room, the blade of the Kashira was not for her, and the swallow in her back made her take a leap she did not control.
As she threw herself under the cherry tree, the gravel that greeted her landing echoed in the courtyard, and she stood up with the bottom of her socks torn to watch the bluish silhouette about twenty centimeters away from the place she had just left.
She hadn't felt him. He had moved behind her back and she hadn't felt him. He had lifted his arm behind her back to drink and she hadn't felt him. If he had wanted to... he could have... she would be...
Tea in hand, the figure she saw had two arms, was taller, and had such a rush in his eyes that she couldn't take her eyes off them.
Who was...
"How dare you wear that headband in this place?"
Kashira's voice echoed in the courtyard.
This... blindfold?
She deactivated her Byakugan. The sun's rays blinded her through the pink foliage, and the man in front of her took on the appearance of the Nara again, which only confused her more.
How did he do it? How could he make her see this appearance if it was not a Henge? The Kashira seemed to be able to see his true appearance... was it an illusion? But then why was she the only one immersed in it?
"Don't pull out your weapon, Deisuke-san, it's useless. This confrontation would be in vain."
She returned her wide-eyed gaze to the one she believed to be the real Nara before turning it to the Kashira as he continued.
"Have you forgotten the treaty signed by all the nations of the peninsula?"
She wasn't sure if she was thinking aloud, but the black irises of the impostor turned to her and a blink later, the Genjutsu ended. His hair lost its contrast and became as black as coal, just like his eyes.
"Your presence in this place alone could lead to a conflict between Iron and Fire."
His eyebrows lost volume and became thin and refined, his wrinkles disappeared in turn, and his skin lost about fifteen years to become as smooth as hers. The black kimono was replaced by a more sober but equally dark outfit: simple pants and a t-shirt.
"Is this what you are looking for?"
Then, finally, the long-awaited headband appeared and her world fell apart.
Konoha.
They had found her.
The Leaf Ninja opened his mouth and she noticed that the tone of his voice had changed as well, less hoarse, more... calm.
"If my presence causes conflict, Deisuke-san, what about the presence of Heiress Hinata Hyūga? My country is willing to suffer the consequences of my actions, are you?"
She continued to stare at the blurred pupils of the stranger less than five meters away from her, not looking away when the Kashira's voice rose.
"Answer my question."
And the stranger made the exact same gesture. He stared at her without blinking.
"Tadaaki Okuda."
Surprised by the answer, she said nothing.
She didn't know who the person whose name had just been revealed was, but one thing was certain, this Konoha ninja knew what she would do if he ever looked away.
He wasn't watching the Kashira, he wasn't watching the Nara, he was watching her. He was watching her fingers as they trembled at the thought of reaching his jugular.
With a glance, she could see the surprise on the samurai's face and understood that he, on the other hand, knew this famous Tadaaki.
"This man belongs to the court of your Lord, am I wrong?"
Again, silence was the only answer and the Leaf Ninja continued.
"He sells information to Konoha."
Immediately, the samurai's gloves tightened on the hilt of his katana.
"Why reveal this information?"
But the inky-black pupils did not turn away.
Why couldn't he turn them away?
"If this man finds out about the Heiress, Danzō will find out. For your village, for your country, you do not want that to happen."
She relaxed the pressure on her hips, on her fingers, on her desires.
This man... had he really come here to... help? It didn't make sense. The more she thought about it, the more she wondered if the real information he had come for was already in his possession. Information she had offered him.
Kyūbi.
"When did you stop following his orders, Shisui?"
The Shikaku's voice rose and the silence that followed allowed her to realize that the Kashira's breathing had just stopped.
A very long silence, which she used to stare at the man a few meters away from her.
Shi...sui? Shisui... Uchiha?
She understood now. The Genjutsu she had been exposed to was coming from there. From his eyes. She had been immersed in it the second she had met his gaze. But who was he that the Nara feared him so much that a confrontation was lost in advance? Who was he that the Kashira shuddered with fear at the mention of his name?
Wasn't a samurai trained not to feel fear, and a Kashira even more so?
"Do not move, do not listen, forget what you have seen."
Once again, following his words, the Uchiha did not answer the question he had just been asked and continued to stare at her without blinking. She tried to move a finger, listened to the birds singing behind the house and when she realized that she was able to do so, she inevitably looked at the Kashira and the Nara.
Her opal eyes widened.
The two men were not moving. They were no longer listening. They were no longer watching. They stood as stiff and rigid as puppets.
"A shadow hovers over you, Princess."
Under the weight of her oxygen-starved chest, she turned her gaze back to the Uchiha, completely paralyzed with fear.
Such a level of Genjutsu was not normal. He was not normal, was he... human? Could he order her to follow him with a simple command? Was this the end?
"The Dōjutsu of my clan, this is not the first time you have seen it, I can tell. You've been a victim of it for a long time, even now."
Her obsidian eyebrows furrowed inexorably.
What was he talking about?
"I'm afraid I can't help you now. I'll come back to you when my eyes have rested. After what I've done, that's the least I can offer you."
She understood nothing, absolutely nothing, only that he would come back to... undo her from a Genjutsu? Was this man, this Uchiha, completely insane?
"Until then, Hyūga Hinata, try to stay alive."
She watched as he turned to the two motionless men and for the second time, she did not move. Strangely, the urge to lash out at his throat to stop him from speaking had left her.
Wasn't it in vain?
"Forget my presence in this place, you have never seen me. Tadaaki Okuda is a traitor and must not learn of the existence of the Heiress, you are convinced of that."
He took a step to the side, ready to leave, and she tensed on the gravel.
Was it that easy? He gave an order and the person forgot, obeyed? Was he really going to leave her there? Was he really disobeying Shimura Danzō? Konoha? The Uchiha?
As if he had forgotten something as well, at the last moment, he turned his gaze back to Kashira, who was still standing motionless, one hand on the hilt of his katana, completely unaware of the situation.
"No matter what she asks, you will comply."
Stunned by what she had just heard, she forgot her surprise when he turned back to the east corridor. With his back to her, he paused one last time.
"I'm sorry I tricked you. I'm sorry for manipulating you."
Slowly and out of the corner of his eye, he looked at her, turning his head slightly toward her, and she saw him for the first time. That eye that made her blood run cold. That unique color that filled her with both fear and wonder.
The Sharingan.
"I will find him."
Instinctively, she wanted to look away, but she remembered that it was too late. That she was already in his grip.
A wave of calm spread through her, and she was sure it wasn't coming from her.
There was no point in being afraid.
Could he also influence the functioning of her emotions, her hormones, to his liking?
There was nothing to fear.
She paused for a moment, calmer than she had ever been, and took a long look at the three tomoes.
He's no danger.
For a second, she could have sworn that they were spinning.
"Do you have a message for him?"
It only took a breath for her to realize who he was talking about. It was not Sensei.
She opened her lips and, constricted by a hundred sensations, words, she remained speechless.
He didn't seem to want to hurt her, he even seemed to want her help... why? Why did she feel such trust in this man she did not know?
Finally, after a long inner struggle, she spoke. She answered Shisui Uchiha.
"Tell him that I am still waiting for him. That... I will always wait for him."
And the latter disappeared.
Time passed and everything merged. The stifling heat, the light warm breeze, the pink petals on her obsidian hair, the bead of sweat on her forehead, the voice of Kashira.
A faint hiss covered the stuttering of the branches above her head before drowning out the surrounding sounds. Closing her eyelids, she lay still for so long that she lost track of reality.
What had just happened?
A buzzing sound grazed her eardrums and she had to force herself to let the sunlight blind her again. The Nara was standing in front of her, less than a meter from the courtyard steps, watching her with a worried look.
She had not heard him move.
Looking to her left, she realized that she had not heard the Kashira leave either.
Had he already gone to the quarters of that Tadaaki Okuda?
"Are you okay, Princess?"
"Hinata."
With a dry tone, she closed her eyelids for a moment and placed the palm of her right hand on her forehead.
If she was to believe the anger that had just returned, the Genjutsu was over. She had regained control over her emotions. A... uncomfortable feeling.
"I'm sorry. Please call me Hinata."
This Sharingan was a real addiction. Why did she have to feel this emptiness, this lack again?
She opened her eyes again to meet Shikaku's smile.
"With pleasure, Hinata."
Leaning on his cane, the former leader of the Jōnin gently waved away his polite expression.
"Is something wrong? You're very pale."
And she managed to hold back a frustrated laugh.
Pale... her. Whiter than snow... ironic.
"If I told you that thirty seconds ago a man was standing where you are now, but you have no memory of him, would you believe me?"
He stood stoically, watching her without saying anything. He seemed to be thinking about what she had just said, and finally he walked down the step that separated them and sat down on the floor.
"Excuse me, my-"
"Leg hurts. I know."
He turned his face slightly to the side in surprise.
"I have a feeling the introductions have already been made."
Then, as impressive as it sounded, he came to a conclusion that made her doubt that he had forgotten.
"Shisui Uchiha was here?"
The warm wind made the pink petals dance around her. With a strange sensation running through her legs, slowly draining her strength, she stepped back and leaned against the trunk of the cherry tree before sliding down onto the gravel.
Sitting on the ground, she watched the Nara with the same expression he had had since he spoke the Uchiha's name: impassive.
"Who is he? Why does he have something to do with my abduction?
The question should be precise. Very precise. However, the forty-year-old, half in the sunshine, did not show anything, but she was sure that he was surprised at that moment.
"Is he the one who talked to you about it?"
Wanting to know the answer to her question, she answered as quickly as her breath allowed.
"He didn't have time to explain why, you arrived at that moment."
To the great joy of her impatience, the man did not try to learn more.
"Shisui Uchiha is... dangerous. Far more dangerous than any shinobi in history. He is the one who makes the Kages flee and disappear. The ninjas of the entire peninsula are being trained for a possible encounter with him and the training is supposed to be easy."
Slowly, the Nara sighed, seemingly not believing what he was about to say.
"If they ever cross the path of Shisui Uchiha, they are forbidden to return to their village. They must disappear. Either by death or by exile. But they must never return."
The shiver that ran through her made her pale even more.
What was this nonsense?
"You probably know this, but the Sharingan is known to put its victim into a Genjutsu. And that is why the Uchiha are feared throughout the peninsula, why you never look a member of this clan in the eye."
He paused for a moment to catch his breath and then continued.
"With Shisui, he takes it to a whole new level. He doesn't just put his victim into a Genjutsu, he also gets into their thoughts, their beliefs, their mood. With a simple look, he has been known to turn a person against their own village, and they don't even realize it. They think they have always been like that. They are convinced of it."
If she had found this training against the Uchiha stupid at first, she now understood its basis. This man was able to make anyone believe anything...
Her opal eyes widened for the umpteenth time. Her breath caught and tears welled up in her pupils.
"You... you mean... my father has... he..."
"Yes. Hiashi, your father, was the second victim of Shisui. The first was the Raikage a few months before you were kidnapped. That's the connection you're looking for."
She took a breath, excited. A smile, quick, brief, fleeting, appeared beneath her porcelain cheeks. Then sadness overtook everything else and her eyes swung from side to side, not knowing what to make of this information.
Everything was... his father wasn't... but he was still...
"Eleven years ago, shortly after you were kidnapped, I wrote a report to the great Sannin Jiraiya, the only one I thought would help me, but I didn't know the whole story then, only part of it. I didn't know about Shisui Uchiha. To tell the truth, not many people knew about his abilities at that time. Danzō Shimura had been careful not to shout about it."
The Nara closed his eyes, trying to remember the famous story, and she tried as hard as she could to concentrate on what he was saying.
"During the Kyūbi attack, Shisui was only eight years old, and he lost everything that night. His father, his mother, his little sister. His father died at the hands of the beast, and as for his mother, he found her hanging in the middle of the living room the next day. According to the police, who investigated for months after the tragedy, and according to his own family, it was suicide. His little sister, who was five years old at the time, "disappeared.
She knew the end before he said it.
"It is only a guess from twelve years ago, but I think Danzo has, or at least had, his little sister. That's why he had no choice but to follow his orders back then. Why he did all that. Why you ended up there. And why I'm surprised I'm still alive when you tell me he was here. Even more surprised that you are. Do you know what he wanted?"
She lowered her face, completely overwhelmed by the amount of information.
She simply couldn't concentrate. She had just learned that her father hadn't really sacrificed her, at least not willingly, and that was upsetting...
Did it change what had happened?
"He wanted..."
With her mouth half open, she watched the Nara, hanging on her lips.
Should she tell him? With what had just happened, she was sure that it was Shikaku before her, but could she afford to trust him?
Releasing the pressure in her lungs, she finally decided to do it.
"He wanted Naruto."
If this whole story was true, then maybe the Uchiha was still under Shimura's command... but... why had he let her live? She didn't understand.
"Who is Naruto?"
She couldn't help but stare at the man sitting in front of her.
"You... don't know him?"
It took a negative nod from Shikaku and a few seconds of reflection for her to understand the misunderstanding.
There was no doubt that the Uchiha had visited the forty-year-old somehow before coming to her and there was no doubt that if he had played his role perfectly, it was only because he had received the information from Shikaku's mouth. And therefore, the former leader of the Jōnin was indeed the person who had revealed the location of the bunker to Jiraiya back then. So he must have known about it.
But she also had another piece of information, one that explained why the Nara didn't seem to know Naruto, or at least didn't think he knew him: After the event in the bunker, the former Sannin had completely disappeared and had never been heard from again. Those were his own words, well, technically speaking.
Shikaku Nara just didn't know his name.
"He is the son of the Fourth, Naruto."
The look of the Nara, despite the information, remained unperturbed.
"I think we have a lot to talk about, Hinata."