The Hyuga compound was cloaked in the icy stillness of early morning. A breathless quiet hung in the air, one that settled between the thin lines of mist curling from rooftops and the hoarfrost that kissed the edges of the training grounds. Snow crunched faintly beneath pale sandals, breaking the silence in slow, deliberate steps.
Hinata stood alone in the middle of the courtyard, her figure framed by the withered sakura trees that flanked the perimeter. Thin, pale light filtered through the clouds above, silvering her hair and tracing the trembling outline of her fingers. She moved through her kata slowly—so slowly that each shift of weight and gentle exhale seemed etched into the air like calligraphy.
But her heart wasn't still. Not today.
One, two, extend. Turn. Shift the heel. Block. Counter. Flow. Again.
She whispered the rhythm under her breath, not to remind her body—her body remembered—but to drown out her thoughts.
Because they kept returning.
To the boy in the snow.
To the sound of laughter inside the library.
To the way he looked back as if he'd done something wrong.
Why didn't anyone stop him?
Why didn't I?
Her form faltered. A stutter in her balance. Her right foot slipped slightly against the frost-laced stone, barely noticeable—but she noticed. Her breath caught.
She could already hear it. Her father's voice, stern and cold:
"A Hyuga must be flawless. There is no pride in half-drawn lines, no power in broken rhythm. Weakness in posture is weakness in will."
Hinata's hands tightened at her sides. She bowed her head, letting her long bangs veil her eyes.
"I'm not weak," she whispered, barely audible against the breeze. "Not anymore."
She took her stance again. The kata resumed.
She didn't feel her fingers shaking.
A soft cough broke the air.
She turned sharply.
Neji stood at the far end of the courtyard, arms folded, posture perfect. Snow did not stick to him. Cold seemed to avoid him.
"You missed a step," he said.
Hinata bowed. "I know."
He studied her for a moment, the silence between them taut as thread.
"Your thoughts are elsewhere."
She didn't respond.
He turned without waiting for an answer and began walking toward the main hall. She followed.
The household stirred in its usual quiet ritual. Servants moved gracefully across wooden floors, bows exchanged in practiced synchrony. The scent of tea leaves and incense lingered in the air.
Her father stood in the entryway to the hall, flanked by two elders in long robes. They paused their discussion as she approached.
"Hinata," her father said, not unkindly, but with the same distant weight that always laced his tone. "Your form is improving."
"Thank you, Father."
"But," he added, looking directly into her eyes now, "your discipline must match your movements. Strength begins in the mind. You must not allow your focus to wander. The world will not be gentle with you. Especially not with those who bear our name."
Hinata bowed her head lower. "Yes, Father."
He did not speak again. The elders resumed their conversation. She stepped away, the words still echoing in her chest.
The world will not be gentle with you…
She thought again of the boy curled in the snow, whispering that he would try again tomorrow.
It already isn't gentle. Not to him.
The academy came into view as she walked the winding path through the village. The streets bustled now, villagers bundled against the wind, children laughing and slipping on icy patches, steam rising from breakfast stalls. Hinata moved quietly, wrapped in her scarf, hood low.
Her steps slowed slightly as she approached the gate. The memory returned so vividly it hurt:
Naruto's small form, knees bruised, breath catching in the cold, sitting alone on a frozen bench.
She hadn't spoken.
She had stood there, watched, and turned away.
Coward.
The thought struck sharper than the cold.
She entered the classroom early, her seat by the window waiting like always. She sat, placing her bag carefully on the desk. Her fingers traced the wood's grain, movements mindless.
Then the door opened.
Her breath caught.
Naruto entered quietly, almost unnoticed. His face was the same, but his posture had changed. It was small, but she saw it—his shoulders slightly hunched, eyes focused on the ground. He didn't look around. He didn't greet anyone. He simply walked to his desk and sat.
There was a redness to his hands. Fresh scrapes.
A patch of purple bloomed on his knee.
And yet his expression was… calm. Or maybe just empty.
Hinata stared.
She wanted to speak. Something. Anything. But her throat refused to open.
Naruto stared at the blackboard like it held the secrets to another world.
He's always alone.
The room filled slowly with the usual noise. Students trickled in, some laughing, some complaining about the cold. Conversations floated above the desks. A few eyes flicked toward Naruto, but none lingered.
None except hers.
Sakura arrived, smiling faintly, and sat nearby. She offered Hinata a soft nod. Sasuke entered shortly after—aloof as always. The classroom became a low hum of waiting.
Then Iruka-sensei arrived, clapping his hands together.
"Alright, everyone. Today, we're starting something different."
A small chorus of groans rose. Iruka chuckled.
"It's a group project—teams of four. You'll research a historical event, prepare a report, and present it together. You'll be assigned at random. This is for your teamwork and planning grades, so take it seriously."
He held up a scroll. "I'll read the teams."
Names began to fall. Group after group.
Then:
"Team Eleven: Naruto Uzumaki, Hinata Hyuga, Sakura Haruno, Sasuke Uchiha."
The room fell into a hush.
Hinata felt the eyes again. Saw the way they shifted—toward Naruto, toward her.
A few snickers.
"Wait, him? With the Hyuga and Uchiha?"
"Great, he'll ruin everything."
Naruto's shoulders twitched—but he didn't turn.
Hinata's fingers curled into her sleeves.
Sakura blinked, surprised. But her gaze was soft. She looked toward Naruto, then back at Iruka.
Sasuke didn't move.
Iruka looked up. "Problems?"
Silence.
"Good. Project is due by the end of the week. Use library time wisely. your Dismissed for the entire week, i hope good results from you all."
Students began to move. Packs rustled, chairs scraped.
Naruto stood slowly. He moved like he expected to be stopped. Like he was used to being told he wasn't supposed to be here.
Hinata didn't move.
Her heart beat painfully in her chest.
She didn't know what to say.
But she knew she couldn't stay silent much longer.
Chapter Two: Pale Eyes, Heavy Steps
Hinata stood rooted to the floor as the other students began to shift around her, gathering their things and whispering to one another. The sound of shuffling chairs and murmured curiosity filled the room, but she barely noticed. Her eyes were still fixed on Naruto.
He was staring down at his desk, pretending not to hear the comments. Or maybe he really didn't. Maybe he was used to tuning them out by now.
Sakura glanced between them, hesitating. Then she stood and walked over to Naruto's desk. "Hey," she said softly, "we should pick a time to meet. We can go to the library after lunch?"
Naruto looked up, surprised. "Huh? Uh… yeah. Sure."
Sasuke stood behind her, expression unreadable. He didn't say anything—just nodded slightly, like it was a formality to acknowledge them.
Hinata swallowed hard. Her chance was slipping. The moment was here.
"I can bring the materials on the Clan Wars era," she said, voice cool and steady.
Three pairs of eyes turned to her.
Naruto blinked.
"Oh," he said. "Okay. That sounds good."
Sakura smiled kindly. "Thanks, Hinata."
Hinata nodded once, not a flicker of emotion crossing her face. "We should not waste time. I will meet you in the library after lunch."
With that, she turned and left the room.
Naruto watched her go. She moved like the cold itself—graceful, composed, untouchable.
He gathered his things slowly. The others had already filed out, but he lingered, staring at the empty chalkboard.
The Clan Wars era.
He barely knew anything about it. Just fragments from lectures, a few half-remembered names and battles. It felt like another world. One full of blood and ambition. Of clans that fought not just for survival, but for pride, for legacy.
It felt distant. Foreign.
He left the classroom quietly, his steps light out of habit. Unseen. Unheard.
The walk to his apartment was short. Shorter when the cold didn't bite so hard, when his thoughts weren't so loud.
But today they were deafening.
He opened the door to his tiny home and stepped inside. The warmth was weak, struggling from a small heater that buzzed faintly in the corner. The walls were still damp from yesterday's snow, and the floor creaked with every move.
He set his bag down and slumped onto the futon.
Four people.
A group.
He wasn't used to that.
Sakura had smiled. Sasuke hadn't said anything, but he hadn't walked away either. And Hinata…
Naruto frowned.
He never knew what to make of her. She was quiet. Polite. Always composed. But something about her eyes today—just for a second when he looked up—they didn't feel cold.
He sighed and lay back, staring at the cracked ceiling.
The Clan Wars era.
He had research to do.