CHAPTER 40

The night stretched on, quiet except for the rhythmic rustling of leaves as Sasuke moved swiftly through the dense trees. Haruki remained curled in his arms, his breathing steady but his body still tense. Though he was no longer trembling, his small hands remained tightly clenched in his cloak, as if seeking an anchor.

He could still feel the child's hesitation. He wasn't afraid anymore, not the way he had been when he first woke up by the stream, but there was a quiet wariness in the way he held onto him. It wasn't surprising. The child had never seen him before today. He had never known his father.

That thought sat heavily in his mind, stirring emotions he wasn't entirely prepared to face. He pushed them aside, focusing instead on the path ahead.

The village was still some distance away, but he was moving quickly. His body, though recovering, was strong enough to make the journey with ease. His son was light in his arms, small... too small, he thought with a faint frown. Had he been eating well? Was he properly taken care of? The Hyuuga Clan were strict in their ways, but they were not neglectful. Especially Hinata. That, he could be sure of. Still, he found himself wanting to know. How had his son lived these past five years?

The silence between them lingered until a small voice finally broke through the quiet.

"Tousan," Haruki murmured, his voice hesitant.

Sasuke glanced down, meeting the child's eyes, one pale like his mother's, the other dark like his.

"You just showed up now," Haruki continued, tilting his head slightly, his expression serious despite his exhaustion. "Did you get lost?"

He nearly faltered mid-step. A quiet huff left him before he could stop it. "No."

The boy didn't seem convinced. "Then why weren't you here before?"

He slowed his pace slightly, his grip unconsciously tightening around his son. He hadn't expected the question, though he should have. It was the most natural thing for a child to ask. Why had his father never come for him?

He thought about his answer. How could he explain the past years? How could he tell his son that he had been wandering, searching for something he could barely understand himself? That he had been blind to what he had left behind?

His expression remained neutral, but his voice was quieter when he finally spoke.

"I didn't know about you."

Haruki blinked. "What?"

Sasuke kept his gaze forward. "I only found out recently."

The child was silent for a long moment, his fingers gripping the fabric of his father's cloak a little tighter. Then, in a smaller voice, he muttered, "Oh."

There was no anger in the boy's tone, no accusation. Just quiet acceptance, as if he wasn't sure how to feel about it yet.

The silence stretched between them again, more contemplative this time. Then, Haruki shifted slightly in his arms.

"What about Sora?" he asked suddenly.

Sasuke glanced at him. "He's fine," he replied simply. "He's with his parents."

The boy let out a soft sigh, his small shoulders loosening. "Good," he murmured. "He's my best friend."

Sasuke's lips twitched slightly. "Hn."

Haruki grinned sleepily at that, as if pleased with the response, then rested his head against his shoulder. He felt the tension in the child fully melt away. They continued in silence, the village drawing closer. But just as he began to lower his guard, a shift in the air caught his attention.

He stiffened, his senses sharpening instantly. The trees were still, the air unnaturally quiet. But a faint chakra signature was there. Someone was following them.

An enemy.

He adjusted his hold on Haruki subtly, his movements careful, controlled.

"Close your eyes," he murmured.

The boy blinked, still groggy from exhaustion. "What?"

"Now."

Something in his father's voice made him obey immediately. He shut his eyes tightly, his small fingers gripping the cloak again.

In the next instant, Sasuke moved. A flicker of motion so fast it was nearly imperceptible, and he was no longer holding his son. He had placed the child safely behind him, hidden in the darkness. He turned sharply, his gaze locking onto the figure now standing a few feet away.

The enemy had stopped moving. A masked shinobi, clad in dark gear, his kunai glinting in the moonlight. He was poised, ready, but he had hesitated the moment Sasuke appeared in front of him.

Sasuke took a step forward. The shinobi took a step back.

"You were waiting," he observed coldly.

The assassin remained silent, his grip tightening around his weapon. He was skilled. His movements were measured, his chakra masked well enough that most shinobi wouldn't have sensed him. But Sasuke wasn't most shinobi. He had felt him before they even entered his range. Whoever sent him clearly underestimated what he was capable of.

"You're not here by coincidence," he continued, voice dangerously low. His Sharingan gleamed, the crimson hue piercing through the darkness. "Who sent you?"

The shinobi didn't answer. Instead, he moved. Too fast for an ordinary assassin. But not fast enough. Sasuke was already behind him before the kunai could even leave his hand. A single touch; light, almost nonexistent, brushed against the back of the man's neck. And then everything shattered.

The assassin's body stiffened violently. His breath hitched, eyes widening as his surroundings distorted. The trees bent at unnatural angles. The sky cracked apart like broken glass. The ground beneath him twisted, splitting open into a vast abyss of blackness. And suddenly, he was falling. Drowning. Burning.

Pain lanced through his limbs; unreal, unbearable, suffocating. His heartbeat thundered in his ears, his body refusing to obey him, trapped in a world that no longer made sense. His fingers trembled and his lips parted in a silent scream.

Sasuke watched coldly. His Sharingan spun mercilessly. His Rinnegan pulsed with silent power. "Who sent you?"

The assassin shuddered violently. His breath came in short, broken gasps.

He stepped closer, his presence looming over the trembling man. "Speak."

The assassin's jaw clenched, his entire body fighting against the illusion. He tried to resist. But it was too late. The Genjutsu had already consumed him. His defenses crumbled. And finally through gritted teeth, through sheer, unbearable pain, he answered.

He gave a single name.

Sasuke's expression didn't change. But inside, something cold settled deep in his bones. He had expected as much. But now, he had proof. He released the illusion. The assassin collapsed instantly, his body slumping against the ground, chest heaving, eyes wide with lingering terror.

He didn't spare him another glance. Instead, he turned toward the small figure still waiting in the shadows. Haruki had kept his eyes shut the entire time.

Sasuke exhaled slowly.

"It's over," he said quietly.

Haruki hesitated, then peeked up at him cautiously.

He reached for him again, and this time, the boy didn't resist.

As he lifted the child into his arms once more, Sasuke's gaze flickered back toward the unconscious assassin.

Naomasa.

He was coming for him next.

And this time, there would be no mercy.

The journey back to Konoha felt longer than it should have. Haruki had remained silent since the confrontation with the assassin. His eyes had dulled with exhaustion. He wasn't asleep, but he was barely conscious.

Sasuke didn't speak.

There was nothing to say that would make any of this easier. No words that could undo the trauma of being taken from his home, of being forced to awaken something in himself that he was too young to understand. He knew what that kind of darkness felt like. And he hated that his son had tasted it so soon.

As the village neared, Sasuke felt a presence approaching fast. His eyes narrowed instinctively, and there, emerging from the distance, was Hinata. She moved with an urgency that spoke of worry and desperation, her pale lavender eyes locked on them with a fierceness that only a mother could possess.

Before he could react, she was there. Her hands shot forward, trembling as they reached for her son. Her touch was frantic, desperate.

"Haruki," she whispered, her voice breaking with emotion.

At the sound of her voice, the boy stirred. His small head lifted slightly, his eyelashes fluttering weakly. His unfocused eyes locked onto her face, and for a long moment, he just stared.

His lip trembled.

"...Kaa-san?"

Hinata's breath hitched as a sob tore through her. The sound was broken, raw, as if she had been holding back a flood for hours, for days, for an eternity. She cupped his face with both hands, smoothing back his dirty hair, running her fingers over his cheeks as if she needed to feel him, to make sure he was real.

"I'm here," she breathed, pressing kisses to his forehead, his temple, anywhere she could reach. "I'm here, my love."

And then Haruki- their brave, bright little boy- broke completely.

A ragged cry tore from his throat as he buried himself into her arms, sobbing uncontrollably.

Hinata held him so tightly it was as if she could fuse them together. Her hands trembled as they cradled his small body, rocking him gently, whispering his name over and over between gasping, tear-filled apologies. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Sasuke stood there, watching them, his chest tightening painfully. He had spent years wandering, years believing that home was something he could never have again. But this... this was home.

Not Konoha. Them.

Hinata lifted her head slightly, her tearful gaze finally meeting his. For a long moment, she just looked at him.

Sasuke couldn't move.

There was something in her eyes. Something raw, something overwhelming. Gratitude. Relief. Love. He had seen it before, a long time ago. He had been too blind to accept it back then. But now-

Now he understood.

Hinata reached for him. Her hand hovered near his face, hesitating. But when he didn't move, when he let her touch him, she did. Her fingers skimmed the dirt-streaked skin of his cheek, her palm pressing gently against his face.

"Thank you," she whispered. "Thank you for bringing him home."

Sasuke's throat felt unexpectedly tight. He held her gaze, taking in the way her pale irises shimmered in the torchlight, the way she looked at him like he had given her something priceless. He swallowed.

"Hn," he managed.

But she saw through him. She always did. Her fingers curled slightly, the warmth of her palm pressing more firmly against his skin.

And suddenly, it wasn't just about Haruki anymore. It was about them. The years apart, the quiet ache in their hearts, the unspoken longing that had never quite faded. He felt it in the subtle shift of her grip, the way her fingers tightened just slightly as if she was afraid to let go. Before he could stop himself, he reached up, his hand covering hers.

Hinata's breath caught in her throat. Neither of them moved, the moment suspended between them.

There were so many things he wanted to say. Things he had buried deep within himself for far too long. Words that had never found their way to his lips. But in this moment, he let himself believe he could stay. That he could have this. That, maybe, he was worthy of it.

He felt her thumb caress his cheek, a soft, lingering stroke that spoke more than words ever could. It felt like a promise. Fragile but real.

And Sasuke, who had spent a lifetime running, finally had a reason to stop.

The heavy silence in the Hokage's office pressed down on the room like a storm about to break. Sasuke stood before Tsunade's desk, his posture rigid, his grip firm on the unconscious assassin he had dragged into the office. His cloak was still damp from the night air, his body aching from the battles fought. But none of it mattered now.

He had proof.

Tsunade's sharp gaze flickered from the limp body at his feet to the steady, unreadable expression on Sasuke's face. Her fingers drummed once against the desk before she exhaled, leaning back in her chair.

"You're telling me," she said slowly, eyes narrowing, "that this man was sent to assassinate you?"

He nodded once. "He admitted it under genjutsu. I forced him to talk."

Her frown deepened.

Across from them, Ibiki Morino, head of the Torture and Interrogation Unit, crossed his arms. The deep scars on his face twisted as his expression darkened. "And who sent him?"

Sasuke's eyes didn't waver. "Naomasa of the Hyuuga clan."

A beat of silence followed his words, heavy with unspoken tension.

Tsunade's fingers curled into her armrest, her golden eyes unreadable. "You do realize what you're saying, don't you?"

His gaze remained steady. "I wouldn't have come here otherwise."

Ibiki bent down, grabbing the assassin by the collar and lifting him just enough to get a better look at his unconscious face. He let out a low breath, then turned back to the Hokage. "I'll wake him up," he said. "If he repeats what Uchiha's claiming under my interrogation, then we'll have enough evidence to move forward."

Tsunade closed her eyes for a moment before nodding. "Do it."

Ibiki didn't waste time. He dragged the assassin out of the office, leaving Sasuke standing in silence as the Hokage turned her full attention back to him.

For a long moment, she didn't speak. She only studied him, her sharp gaze unwavering.

"You knew something was off, didn't you?" she finally said. "That's why you didn't kill him on the spot."

He tilted his head slightly. "It didn't take a genius to figure out someone in the Hyuuga clan wanted me gone. I've been under surveillance since I got here."

Tsunade sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Dammit," she muttered. "If this is true, if Naomasa is really behind this, it's going to turn the entire clan into chaos."

He didn't respond. That wasn't his problem. All he cared about was making sure no one ever came after his son again.

Tsunade rubbed her temple. "Fine. I'll call a council meeting first thing in the morning. If this man confesses, Naomasa is done."

Sasuke turned to leave, but before he could step out, Tsunade's voice stopped him.

"And Uchiha," she called.

He glanced back over his shoulder.

Her expression softened, just slightly. "You did good."

Sasuke said nothing. He only gave a slight nod before stepping out into the cold night air.

The news of Haruki's safe return had swept through the Hyuuga clan like wildfire, a wave of relief that spread across the compound. Yet, despite the relief that should have filled the air, something felt off. The atmosphere was thick with tension, as if an unspoken storm was gathering just on the horizon.

The compound... was unusually quiet.

The elders had been gathered in secret, their voices hushed but tense as they sat in the private chamber of Naomasa's home. The dimly lit room smelled faintly of burning incense, the heavy presence of unspoken grievances lingering in the air.

Naomasa sat at the head of the table, his fingers tapping against the wood in rhythmic thought. His sharp, calculating eyes scanned the elders seated before him.

"They think they've won," he murmured, his voice calm despite the rage simmering beneath it.

One of the elders leaned forward, his expression tight. "You should have never let that child live, Naomasa-dono. We permitted his birth because he was still a Hyuuga, but now that Uchiha has returned-"

Another elder cut in, shaking his head. "The situation was under control. We had a plan. Why did you act so rashly?"

Naomasa's eyes darkened. "Because the Uchiha was a threat to that plan. The longer he remained in this village, the more dangerous he became. I needed to remove him before-"

A disturbance at the door interrupted the conversation.

A servant rushed in, breathing heavily, her eyes wide with alarm. "Hinata-sama approaches-"

Before she could finish, the door swung open with quiet authority, and Hinata stepped into the room. Her pale lavender eyes swept over the gathered elders with a calm intensity that instantly silenced the room. Every movement was measured, graceful, as though she was both a vision of serenity and a force to be reckoned with.

Naomasa's fingers stilled against the table.

"Hinata-sama," he said, his voice measured but a touch strained. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"

Hinata's gaze never wavered as she stepped forward, her presence commanding yet unyielding. Her voice, when she spoke, was calm but cold.

"Your plans have been exposed, Naomasa-dono. You thought you could orchestrate chaos from the shadows, but now you will face the consequences."

Silence.

For a single, stretched-out moment, no one moved.

Then, Naomasa scoffed. "That's a bold claim," he mused. "Surely, you don't expect anyone to believe such nonsense without proof."

A faint, measured smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

"That's the thing," she said softly, her voice calm and composed. "We have all the proof we need."

As if on cue, the door opened wider and Ibiki stepped in, dragging a beaten, bloodied man behind him.

The assassin.

Naomasa's mask of composure finally cracked. His fingers twitched against the table, his muscles stiffening.

The assassin let out a weak, pained chuckle. "Heh," he rasped. "Didn't think they'd let me live, did you?"

Naomasa stood abruptly. The room tensed instantly, every elder reacting to the sudden shift in energy.

"You," he hissed.

The assassin smirked, despite the pain. "They made me talk, old man. And guess what?" His bloody grin widened. "I told them everything."

Panic flickered through the old man's eyes for the first time. And then... he moved. Faster than anyone expected, he lunged toward the assassin. A streak of movement, fast... too fast for a man of his age. Chakra surged through his limbs, a sudden burst of lethal intent honed by years of experience. If he could erase the proof, if he could silence the assassin before any official charges were made, he could still escape.

His fingertips ignited with the deadly precision of Gentle Fist, aiming straight for the assassin's heart. One strike, one blow, and all his sins would be buried.

But Hinata moved first.

Her Byakugan flared, veins bulging around her sharp, focused gaze.

"Eight Trigrams Palm Rotation!"

The room exploded with a violent gust of chakra as she spun, intercepting Naomasa's strike with an impenetrable defense. The force sent the assassin tumbling back, gasping for air, while Naomasa staggered, his robes whipping from the shockwave.

His teeth clenched in fury. "You-"

Hinata didn't give him time to recover. The moment her feet touched the ground, she was already closing in.

She struck. One hit, two, four. Her fingers a blur, colliding with his chakra points in rapid succession. Naomasa twisted, barely deflecting the full brunt of her attack with his own mastery of Gentle Fist. His footwork was quick, honed through decades of training. He redirected her strikes, countering with a palm thrust aimed directly at her sternum.

Hinata sidestepped at the last moment, her breath steady. She flowed around his attack like water, spinning into a sharp, precise motion that struck Naomasa square in the chest. He grunted, sliding back, his grip tightening into fists.

He couldn't win this. Not against her. Not against the woman who had surpassed the very limits of their clan's techniques. Desperation flared in his eyes. And he turned to flee.

But Hinata was already behind him. A concussive blast of chakra slammed into Naomasa's back, sending him crashing into the wooden floor. Blood sprayed from his lips, staining his robes as he struggled to push himself up.

She stepped forward, her expression unwavering.

"You won't hurt anyone ever again," she said, her voice as soft as it was merciless.

Naomasa lifted his head, panting. And then... he struck. One final, reckless attempt, his chakra surging violently. His fingers snapped toward her throat, aiming to cripple, to kill-

She met his attack head-on, her movements a perfect symphony of speed and precision. Chakra ignited at her fingertips, a pale blue glow sharpening into lethal points as she twisted her body, flowing around his strike like silk caught in the wind. In a single, decisive motion, she thrust her palm forward-

"Twin Lion Fists!"

The spectral lions roared to life, chakra coiling and compressing in an instant before her strike landed with devastating accuracy. The impact reverberated through his chest, a crushing force that shattered his chakra network in an instant. His body seized, his breath caught in a ragged gasp as veins bulged around his fading Byakugan.

His fingers, mere inches from her throat, trembled... then went slack.

Blood dripped from his lips as his knees hit the floor, his vision blurring, disbelief etched across his paling face. He swayed once, twice. Then collapsed.

Silence followed.

The elders remained frozen, their breath held as the reality of what had just transpired settled over them. Naomasa Hyuuga, once a formidable figure in the clan, lay lifeless on the floor.

Hinata lowered her stance, her heartbeat steady, unshaken. She exhaled, her Byakugan fading.

The assassin coughed, groaning as he tried to sit up. But he was alive. That was what mattered.

She turned to face the elders, her expression unreadable.

"This is the fate of those who betray their own," she said coldly.

She didn't need to say anything more. The truth was written in the remnants of battle, in the body of the man who had sought to control them all.

It was over.

A week had passed since that night.

The long white hallways of the hospital smelled faintly of antiseptic and herbs, the scent lingering in the crisp morning air. The muffled sounds of nurses moving between rooms and the occasional distant murmur of conversation filled the silence as Sasuke and Haruki walked side by side.

Haruki's small hand was curled in his father's, his fingers warm against Sasuke's palm. He had been quiet the entire walk here.

Sasuke glanced down at him briefly, noticing the way his son's free hand clenched and unclenched at his side. His steps, usually eager and full of energy, were more hesitant now.

He was nervous.

Sasuke didn't say anything about it, but he didn't let go of his hand either.

As they neared Sora's room, the door opened, and Sakura stepped out, her soft green gaze immediately landing on them. She gave a small nod of acknowledgment to Sasuke before crouching to Haruki's level, offering him a gentle smile.

"Haruki," she greeted warmly.

The boy looked up at her, his eyes flickering with uncertainty.

Sakura's smile softened as she reached out, tucking a stray strand of his dark hair behind his ear. "Before you go in," she said gently, "there's something I need to tell you."

Haruki blinked, tilting his head.

Her expression grew a little more serious, though her voice remained warm and patient. "Sora doesn't remember what happened," she explained. "Sometimes, when something really scary happens to us, our minds try to protect us by forgetting it."

The child frowned slightly, his little brows furrowing. "He forgot... everything?"

She nodded. "For now, yes. His memories might come back someday, but they might not. And that's okay."

Haruki's fingers curled into the hem of his shirt, absorbing her words carefully.

She reached out and rested a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "That means we shouldn't remind him, alright?" she said gently. "We don't want him to be scared again."

Haruki hesitated, then nodded. "I won't say anything."

Sakura smiled, giving his shoulder a light squeeze before standing. "Good boy," she murmured. Then she turned to Sasuke. "Naruto needs to talk to you when you're done," she said quietly.

Sasuke gave a slight nod in return before watching her step aside.

Haruki took a small breath, then finally let go of his father's hand and stepped forward, pushing the door open.

Inside, Sora was already sitting up in bed, his blue eyes bright as ever despite the bandages wrapped around his neck, arms and legs. His face lit up the moment he saw his friend.

"Haruki!" he beamed. "You finally came! I was so bored!"

Haruki gave him a small smile and walked over, dragging a chair close to his bedside before sitting down. "Sorry," he said quietly.

Sora waved a dismissive hand. "It's fine! But what took you forever?" He puffed his cheeks. "Kaa-san kept making me eat yucky medicine, and Tousan just kept bringing me all these dumb books with stories I already know!"

Haruki's smile twitched slightly. It was like nothing had happened. Sora was still Sora. Carefree. Cheerful. Untouched by the nightmare that he still carried inside him. His fingers twisted in his lap.

Then Sora's eyes flickered to his neck, and his lips parted slightly in curiosity. "Oh, hey! You have bandages too!"

He stiffened slightly as Sora pointed at the gauze wrapped around his neck and wrist, the same place Sora had his.

The blond boy's face brightened with fascination. "Wait. Are they all in the same places as mine?"

Before he could respond, Sora eagerly pulled his blanket off and lifted his leg, revealing the bandages wrapped around his ankle. "Do you have these too?"

He hesitated, then quietly nodded.

Sora grinned. "Whoa! That means we really are best friends!"

Haruki's breath hitched slightly.

Best friends.

His stomach twisted. His fingers curled tighter into the fabric of his pants as something cold crept into his chest. This was his fault. Sora was here because of him. Because they took him. Because they hurt him. Because he wasn't strong enough to stop them.

He lowered his gaze, his hands trembling slightly.

"Hey," Sora said, tilting his head. "Why do you look all gloomy again?"

He quickly forced a smile. "I'm not," he said, shaking his head. "I was just thinking."

His friend huffed. "Well, stop thinking and just talk to me! You need to tell me what you've been doing!"

Haruki hesitated. Then, almost as a distraction, he mumbled, "I... met my Tousan."

Sora gasped dramatically. "No way!"

He nodded, though he couldn't quite match his friend's enthusiasm.

Sora leaned in, eyes practically sparkling. "How? When?"

He swallowed, suddenly unsure what to say. He couldn't tell Sora the truth.

That his father had found him half-conscious in the enemy's hands. That his father had fought against a group of killers to get him back. That his father had carried him through the night, protecting him from another assassin's blade.

He couldn't tell Sora any of that. So he just sat there, silent.

Sora tilted his head at him. "Haruki?"

He forced another smile. "I... I met him recently," he said simply. "That's all."

The blond pouted, obviously unsatisfied with the answer. "You're no fun," he huffed, crossing his arms.

Haruki let out a small chuckle, but the guilt still gnawed at his chest. Even now, even safe in this hospital room, he could still hear the sound of Sora's struggling breath, the frantic rasping as the life was being squeezed out of him.

He could still see the way his best friend had collapsed, unmoving. And no matter how much he wanted to pretend, no matter how much Sora smiled at him like nothing was wrong-

He knew the truth.

Sora had almost died.

Because of him.

The weight of it settled heavily on his chest, but deep within him, something burned, steady, unyielding. His hands clenched into fists in his lap, the muscles trembling with determination.

He wasn't sure if he could ever forgive himself for that. But one thing was certain: it wouldn't happen again.

He would be stronger. For Sora. For his family. For himself.

No matter the cost. No matter the struggle.

Haruki swore, in that quiet moment, he would never again be the reason someone he loved got hurt.

He would be strong. He would protect them all.