Half an hour. It had been only thirty minutes since the cataclysmic return of the clan heir, yet it felt like a lifetime had passed. The initial panic, the frantic rush of guards to the central garden, had subsided into a tense, suffocating quiet. The Hyuuga, a clan built on order and unshakeable composure, stood in stunned silence, their pale eyes fixed on the girl who was both the cause of their recent shame and the source of this new, terrifying spectacle. The air, still thick with the smell of ozone and burnt sand, crackled with unspoken questions.
Hanabi was the first to break the tableau. Her initial, choked sob of relief had given way to a flood of tears she hadn't bothered to wipe away. She scrambled into the crater, her small feet sinking into the displaced sand, and threw her arms around her sister's waist, burying her face in Hinata's strange and powerful-feeling frame. She didn't say anything, her small body just trembled with the force of three days of guilt and terror finally being released.
Hinata, who would normally have flinched at the sudden contact, simply rested a hand on her younger sister's head, her touch steady and reassuring. Her gaze remained fixed on her father.
Hiashi Hyuuga stood as if carved from stone, his face a mask of iron control, but his tightly clenched fists betrayed the storm of emotions raging within him. Relief, fury, confusion, and a terrifying flicker of pride all warred for dominance. He had grieved for his daughter, had faced the humiliation of her disappearance, and now she had returned, not as a victim, but as... something else. Something he didn't understand.
The clan elders, four ancient men and women who were the living embodiment of Hyuuga tradition, flanked him. Their faces were grim, their Byakugan eyes narrowed as they analyzed the impossible scene before them: the crater, the residual traces of an otherworldly chakra, the strange, living scroll in Hinata's hand, and the profound, unnerving transformation of the girl herself.
"Hinata," Hiashi's voice was low, cutting through the silence like a blade. It was not a welcome. It was a summons. "The council chambers. Now. You will explain yourself."
The council chamber was a place of stark, intimidating simplicity. Polished dark wood, bland shoji screens, and the oppressive weight of generations of judgment. Hinata knelt in the center of the room, Hanabi refusing to leave her side, kneeling beside her in a silent show of solidarity. Hiashi and the four elders sat opposite them, a tribunal of pale-eyed authority.
"You disappeared from within the clan's own walls," one of the elders, a man whose face was a roadmap of wrinkles, began, his voice dry as dust. "You caused a disruption that alerted the entire village. You return by means of a forbidden and volatile jutsu. An explanation is required."
"Everything," Hiashi added, his voice colder now, the father's worry buried deep beneath the clan leader's fury. "Tell us where you have been. Tell us what you have done. And tell us what... what you have become."
Hinata took a slow, deliberate breath, steadying her nerves. In her mind, she felt Venom's quiet, reassuring presence. ...Tell them the story, partner. Our story. But leave out the parts about breaking their god. The little minds of these old ones might not handle it well...
"I… I was reckless," Hinata began, her voice soft but clear, devoid of its usual stammer. She addressed her father directly, her gaze unwavering. "I took a scroll from the library. The Kuchiyose no Jutsu. I attempted to perform it without guidance. It was… a desperate act."
Hiashi's jaw tightened at the admission. Disobedience was the highest of sins in his world.
Hinata continued, her narrative carefully edited, yet rooted in the profound truth of her experience. "The jutsu… it worked, but not as the scrolls described. It did not summon a creature to me. Because I had no contract, it… it summoned me to them."
She described the world she had seen, not as a living planet of psychic flesh, but as a summoning realm unlike any other. "It was a world that was… alive. Not with trees and rivers, but the world itself breathed. The ground, the sky… it was all part of a single, vast consciousness. The creatures of that realm, they do not have individual bodies, as we do. They are all part of the whole. They call themselves… the Klyntar."
The elders exchanged skeptical glances. A summoning realm of sentient landscape? It sounded like a child's fantasy.
"And these… Klyntar," another elder pressed, a severe-looking woman with her hair pulled into a tight bun. "What did they do to you?"
"They tested me," Hinata said, her voice dropping as she recalled the trial. "They saw the nature of my chakra, my spirit. They saw my Hyuuga blood. They saw… potential. But they required a trial. A test of my will, my control, and my loyalty. To prove I was worthy of forming a pact."
She couldn't describe the true nature of the Trial of Existence, the psychic chaos, the purification of the Abyss. So she described it in terms they would understand: combat. "They pitted me against a creature of pure, uncontrolled chaos. A being of immense power. They did not want me to destroy it. They wanted me to… harmonize it. To balance it. To cleanse it, using the control and discipline of the Gentle Fist."
The elders leaned forward, their interest piqued. Cleansing chaos with the Gentle Fist? That was a concept that resonated with their core philosophies.
"The trial was… difficult," Hinata said, a masterpiece of understatement. "It pushed me to my absolute limit. But I succeeded. In doing so, I proved myself worthy. And I returned with more than just a contract." Her gaze hardened with resolve. "I returned with the first of my summons. An honor guard. A warrior of the Klyntar who has agreed to form a bond with me. It… resides within my own body. That is the nature of our pact."
Silence. The elders processed this, their expressions a mixture of disbelief and a dawning, reluctant curiosity. A summon that lived inside the summoner? The symbiotic nature of the Inuzuka and Aburame pacts were well-known, but this was something else entirely.
"Show us," Hiashi commanded, his voice leaving no room for refusal. "Show us this… summon."
Hinata nodded slowly. She took a deep breath. "Venom," she whispered, a name spoken aloud for the first time. "Let's show them."
...With pleasure...
She closed her eyes. The transformation was not violent. It was a fluid, silent, breathtaking act of becoming. A slick, black substance, like living ink, oozed from her pores, flowing over her skin. It was not a covering; it was a seamless merging. The black biomass formed a sleek, powerful second skin, accentuating the new, potent musculature of her frame. It flowed up her neck, over her cheeks and nose, forming a grotesque, beautiful mask. Jagged, white, spidery markings spread across her chest, down her arms, and on the backs of her hands, pulsing with a faint, internal light.
And as the last of the blackness enveloped her head, it did something that defied all logic of such transformations. It flowed around her hair. Her short, dark bob cut remained perfectly untouched, a stark, human contrast to the alien visage beneath it. The mask finished forming, the white markings on its face like two great, jagged eyes, and a lipless maw stretched into a terrifying, lipless grin, revealing rows of sharp, gleaming teeth.
Hinata, now fully cloaked in Venom's form, stood up. She was taller, more imposing, a creature of nightmare and power. The elders recoiled, their stoicism finally shattering into naked shock. Hanabi gasped, her eyes wide with a mixture of terror and awe. Hiashi himself took an involuntary step back, his Byakugan eyes seeing not just the creature, but the perfect, harmonious fusion of his daughter's chakra and the summon's otherworldly energy. There was no conflict. No suppression. It was a perfect, terrifying union.
Then, she spoke. And a voice that was both Hinata's and something impossibly ancient, deep, and menacing, echoed through the chamber, speaking in perfect, resonant unison.
One of the elders, his composure finally breaking, scrambled to his feet. "This is an abomination! A monster! It has consumed her!"
To prove the point, the head of the creature flowed back, retracting like a cowl to reveal Hinata's face, pale and serene, her lilac eyes now glowing with a faint, silvery light. "I am still here, Father," she said, her own voice now tinged with the resonant echo of her partner. "I am more myself than I have ever been."
The mask flowed back into place seamlessly, the grin widening. Hiashi stared, his mind reeling. He saw the truth in her eyes, in the perfect harmony of their chakra. This wasn't a possession. It was a covenant, a bond more absolute than he could have imagined. His daughter, his timid, disappointing daughter, had faced an impossible trial in an alien world and returned not broken, but remade. She had returned a warrior.
He looked at the shocked faces of the elders, at the terrified wonder on Hanabi's face, at the powerful being that was now his daughter. A storm of conflicting emotions raged within him. The clan leader saw a powerful new weapon, a strategic asset that could elevate the Hyuuga to unprecedented heights. The father saw the immense danger his daughter had thrown herself into, the reckless abandon of her actions. And beneath it all, a deep, secret part of him that he rarely acknowledged, felt a terrifying surge of pride.
He took a deep breath, pushing all emotion down, letting the mask of the stern patriarch settle back into place.
"You were reckless, Hinata," he said, his voice once again cold steel. "You disobeyed clan law and practiced a forbidden jutsu, a path that could have led to your death, or worse. For that, you should be severely punished."
Hinata—and Venom—simply watched him, their head tilted in silent challenge.
Hiashi's gaze was hard, but he could not deny what he was seeing. He could not deny the power, the control, the sheer, undeniable reality of her success. His next words felt like stones in his throat, but he forced them out, for the good of the clan, and for the sake of the daughter he had almost lost.
"But… you succeeded," he conceded, the admission costing him dearly. "You faced a trial that would have broken lesser shinobi, and you forged a pact of immense power. You have brought a great and terrible new strength to this clan." He paused, his stern gaze sweeping over her powerful new form. "For that… you have my congratulations."
With the verdict delivered, the tension in the room did not break, but merely shifted. The raw shock had been replaced by a heavy, calculating silence. Hinata, still cloaked in her symbiotic armor, retracted the terrifying grin and gave a slow, deliberate nod. The black biomass flowed back from her face, receding into her skin with an unnatural smoothness, until only the girl remained, her face pale with exhaustion, her lilac eyes holding a depth that belied her years. The display was over.
"You are dismissed," Hiashi said, his tone final. He turned to the elders, who were already muttering amongst themselves in low, urgent tones, their worldviews shattered and in need of immediate, frantic reconstruction. The political and tactical implications of what they had just witnessed were staggering. The Hyuuga clan had a new card to play, a trump card of terrifying, unknown potential.
Hinata rose, her movements stiff with a weariness that went bone-deep. She gave a perfunctory bow to her father and the council and turned to leave, the strange, living scroll still clutched in her hand.
"Sister!"
Hanabi scrambled to her feet and rushed after her, catching up to her in the polished wooden hallway outside the council chambers. The usual arrogance and rivalry were gone from the younger girl's face, replaced by an expression of pure, unadulterated awe. She stared up at Hinata, her Byakugan eyes wide as she took in the subtle but profound changes she had only glimpsed before. The height, the confidence, the sheer, undeniable presence.
"That... that was..." Hanabi started, her voice barely a whisper. She didn't know what to say. Terrifying? Amazing? Monstrous? "That thing... is it really inside you all the time?"
"He is," Hinata confirmed, her voice soft but firm. "He is my partner."
Hanabi reached out a hesitant hand, her fingers hovering just over Hinata's arm, as if afraid the black creature would lash out. "Does it... hurt?"
"No," Hinata replied, a faint, tired smile touching her lips. "It feels... complete."
This was a truth Hanabi could not possibly comprehend, but she could see the honesty in her sister's eyes. The timid, uncertain girl she had mercilessly tormented was gone. In her place stood this... this warrior, this contractor of alien beings, this stranger who was still her sister. The dynamic between them had been irrevocably shattered and remade. Hanabi looked down at the wooden training sword she still carried, a flimsy toy compared to the power she had just witnessed.
"You're not weak anymore," Hanabi stated, the words both an admission of her own foolishness and a statement of a new, undeniable fact.
"I never was," Hinata said gently. "I was just... quiet."
She placed her hand on Hanabi's shoulder, and this time, the younger sister didn't flinch away. She leaned into the touch, seeking a comfort she hadn't realized she needed.
"Get some rest, Hanabi," Hinata said, her own exhaustion evident in her voice. "We'll talk more tomorrow."
Leaving her stunned sister in the hallway, Hinata made her way through the sleeping compound. Each step was a monumental effort. The energy the Klyntar had gifted her had been burned through in the confrontation with her father, and now the full weight of her ordeal came crashing down. The interdimensional journey, the trial that had pushed her to the brink of both physical and psychic annihilation, the stressful return, and the nerve-wracking confession—it had all taken a toll that her newly enhanced body was only just beginning to register.
Her mind was a buzzing hive of fading adrenaline and overwhelming fatigue. She felt the symbiote settled deep within her, a warm, sated presence, its own reserves depleted, its consciousness sinking into a state of recuperative hibernation. ...Sleep, partner... Venom's voice was a faint, drowsy whisper in the back of her mind. ...We have earned it...
She finally reached her room, the familiar, simple space a balm to her over-stimulated senses. She slid the shoji door shut, the soft click sealing her away from the rest of the world, from the politics of her clan, from the questions that would inevitably come tomorrow. She looked at her bed, the simple futon looking like the most inviting paradise she had ever seen.
The thought of changing, of washing her face, of going through any of the nightly rituals she had performed her entire life, seemed like an impossible task. The custom-made mission shirt she wore was dirty from her journey, and the summoning scroll in her hand felt impossibly heavy.
She let the scroll clatter to the floor. She took two steps towards her bed and simply… fell. She didn't bother to pull back the covers. She collapsed face-down onto the futon, the world dissolving into a welcome, absolute blackness before her head even settled. The girl who had faced down a god and broken its mind was, in the end, still a girl in need of sleep. And in the silent darkness of her room, curled in a position of pure exhaustion, she finally found it.
Her return to consciousness was slow, a gradual climb from the crushing depths of a sleep so profound it felt like a temporary death. For two full days, she remained in that state, her body and mind undertaking a desperate, system-wide recovery. The Klyntar's gift of energy had been a temporary fix, a patch on a system that had suffered a catastrophic overload. Now, under the silent, watchful command of the hibernating symbiote, her own biology was working overtime to rebuild, reinforce, and replenish.
When she finally awoke on the third morning, the first sensation was not one of restfulness, but of a hunger so vast and profound it was a physical presence in the room. It was a hollow, aching void in the core of her being, a screaming demand for fuel that dwarfed anything she had previously experienced. It was the hunger of a body that had not just fought, but had been unmade and remade.
...More... was the first coherent thought she received from Venom, a sleepy, guttural rumble from the depths of their bond. ...We require… biomass. And chocolate. Immediately...
Stiffly, Hinata pushed herself up. The mission shirt she had collapsed in was crusted with sand and grime, and she felt a desperate need for the cleansing ritual of a long, hot bath. It was as she stood, stretching muscles that felt both deeply sore and strangely powerful, that she caught her reflection in the full-length mirror. And she froze.
The changes were no longer subtle. They were irrefutable. She was taller still, her head now clearing a mark on the wall that she knew had been inches above her before. Her shoulders were broader, her arms and legs toned with the lean, dense musculature of a dedicated martial artist, not a growing girl. But it was the other changes, the ones her clan's conservative robes were designed to conceal, that were the most shocking.
Her waist had remained slender, but her hips had flared, creating a dramatic, hourglass curve that was pure, unadulterated womanhood. And her chest… her chest was a problem. Her once modest bust had blossomed into something she could no longer dismiss as a late growth spurt. It was full, high, and undeniably prominent. Her simple mission shirt, already snug after her last round of 'upgrades,' was now stretched to its absolute limit, the fabric pulled taut across her front in a way that was both revealing and slightly ridiculous.
Heat flooded her cheeks. A part of her, the old, shy Hinata, wanted to shrink, to find the largest, baggiest robe she could and hide herself from the world. But another part, a new and unfamiliar part that was influenced by Venom's predatory pride, couldn't help but analyze the changes with a detached, clinical appreciation. She looked… powerful. Formidable. The 'improved aerodynamics' Venom had promised were certainly… present. It was a duality that was becoming the new baseline of her existence: profound embarrassment warring with a secret, thrilling pride.
The most immediate issue was practical. She pulled out the lavender jacket—her trademark, her uniform—and tried to put it on. It was a hopeless endeavor. The sleeves were too short, ending midway down her forearms, and the torso was so tight across her chest and shoulders that she couldn't even begin to close the zipper. It was the uniform of a girl she no longer was.
With a sigh that was part frustration and part resignation, she headed for the bath. The hunger still gnawed at her, a beast clawing at the walls of her stomach, but the need to feel clean was just as urgent. After soaking until her skin was pink, she faced the problem of clothing again. She settled on a simple, loose-fitting training yukata, the only thing in her wardrobe that could accommodate her new dimensions without looking absurdly strained. It would have to do until she could swallow her pride and request a whole new set of mission gear.
Downstairs, the news of her reawakening had preceded her. A servant, her eyes wide with a mixture of fear and awe, had prepared a breakfast that could have fed a family of four. Hinata sat alone at the table and consumed all of it. Rice, grilled fish, miso soup, tamagoyaki—it all vanished into the black hole of her hunger. It wasn't enough, not nearly, but it took the edge off the ravenous agony.
News of her return and the subsequent demonstration had, of course, ripped through the village's rumour mill like a wildfire. By the time she met with her team at Training Ground 8 that afternoon, the whispers had mutated into legends. Kiba practically vibrated with excitement the moment he saw her, his usual swagger amplified tenfold.
"There she is! The Hyuuga Princess of the Abyss!" he announced, striking a dramatic pose. Akamaru barked in agreement. "I heard you summoned a demon god from a dimension of pure darkness and beat it into submission with your bare hands! And now it has to do whatever you say!"
Shino, standing impassively nearby, tilted his head. "My sources, which are admittedly more subdued, suggest you have forged a contract with a new type of symbiotic creature. One that bonds on a cellular level. The logistics of such a pact are fascinating. Does your summon share your nutritional intake, or does it require its own separate source of sustenance?" His question was purely academic, but it hit uncomfortably close to the truth.
Kurenai just watched her, her red eyes sharp and analytical. She saw the new height, the ill-fitting traditional clothes, the quiet confidence that now sat on Hinata as comfortably as her old jacket used to. "The official story is that the Hyuuga clan has secured a new summoning contract," she said, her voice cutting through the speculation. "Congratulations, Hinata. It's a remarkable achievement for a genin." Her tone was congratulatory, but her eyes were asking a thousand questions she couldn't voice. Questions like, Since when do summoning contracts physically remake the contractor?
"Th-thank you, sensei," Hinata replied, the old verbal tic making a brief return out of sheer social anxiety. She felt a surge of heat in her lower belly, a complex cocktail of embarrassment from being the center of attention and a strange, prickling awareness of her own body under their collective gazes. The symbiote's influence on her hormones was a chaotic, unpredictable variable. One moment she felt powerful, the next, cripplingly self-conscious. "The rumors are… exaggerated. The Klyntar are not demons. They are… warriors."
"Klyntar, huh? Cool name," Kiba said, circling her like a curious wolf. "So, can you, like, summon a giant one? Or do they all just… live in you?"
Before Hinata could formulate a response, her stomach betrayed her with a low, mournful growl that was audible in the quiet training ground. A fresh wave of crimson flooded her cheeks.
...The appetizers were insufficient... Venom grumbled in her mind. ...The dog-boy speaks too much. Let us eat him. He looks sinewy, but full of protein...
"It seems," Shino observed, his voice a flat monotone, "that the pact requires a significant caloric toll."
Kurenai clapped her hands, pulling the focus. "Alright, that's enough gossip. Let's see what this new pact can do. Hinata, Kiba. A light spar. Kiba, you're on offense. Hinata, defense only. Show me what this new 'warrior' of yours can do."
Kiba's grin was feral. A sanctioned chance to go all-out against the new and improved Hinata was exactly what he'd been hoping for. "Alright, Hinata! Don't cry when this gets rough!" he yelled, dropping into his clan's signature four-limbed stance. "Let's go, Akamaru!"
The boy and his dog became a blur, kicking up dirt as they launched into their attack. It was a classic Inuzuka pincer move—Kiba from the front, Akamaru from the side, a coordinated assault designed to overwhelm and confuse. To Hinata, however, it was like watching a dance in slow motion.
Her senses, already sharp, were now a symphony of tactical data. She didn't just see Kiba lunging; she saw the precise angle of his trajectory, felt the shift in air pressure as he moved, heard the frantic thumping of his heart, and smelled the faint, coppery scent of adrenaline on his skin. His movements, once a fearsome blur of feral speed, now seemed telegraphed, almost ponderously slow.
...The dog-boy is predictable... Venom stated in her mind, its tone one of bored superiority. ...His attack vector is inefficient. A forty-five-degree feint to the left would be his only logical option, but he is too straightforward. He will commit to a direct frontal assault...
And he did. Kiba shot forward, a clawed hand aiming for her throat. Hinata didn't retreat. She didn't even flinch. At the last possible second, she swayed her torso to the side, a minimal, liquid movement that caused Kiba's attack to slice through empty air. At the same time, her arm came up, not to strike, but to intercept. Her open palm met his charging forearm.
There was no impact. No jarring block. It was like catching a falling leaf. The moment her hand made contact, a thin, almost invisible layer of black symbiote coated her palm, absorbing the kinetic energy of his blow completely. Its forward momentum nullified, Kiba stumbled, his balance broken. Simultaneously, Hinata smoothly redirected his own momentum, spinning him harmlessly past her.
Akamaru, leaping from the side, was met with a similar, effortless defense. Hinata simply raised her other hand, catching the small dog mid-air as gently as if he were a thrown ball, her symbiote-coated fingers cushioning him perfectly. She held the yipping, confused puppy for a second before setting him gently on the ground.
"Is that all?" she asked, her voice quiet but carrying an unnerving stillness. Kiba scrambled to his feet, his face a mixture of frustration and disbelief.
"We're just getting started!" he roared, and launched into a frenzied series of attacks. He was a whirlwind of claws and kicks, but it was all useless. Hinata stood in the center of the storm, a pillar of calm. She never took a step back. She moved with a breathtaking economy of motion, her hands and arms flowing in gentle arcs, intercepting, redirecting, and neutralizing every attack. A savage kick was met with a soft palm that guided it harmlessly into the earth. A clawed swipe was caught at the wrist and gently turned aside. It was the Gentle Fist, but elevated to a level of predictive, defensive perfection that Kurenai had only ever read about.
Finally, panting and covered in sweat, Kiba leaped back. "Alright, no more messing around! Gatsuga!" He and Akamaru spun into their signature drilling attack, twin vortexes of destruction that tore up the ground as they hurtled towards her.
Hinata watched the twin drills approach. She didn't move to evade. Instead, she took a single, deep breath. As the attacks were about to connect, she thrust both hands forward. Thick, black tendrils of symbiote shot from her palms, meeting the spinning forms of Kiba and Akamaru. The tendrils weren't rigid; they were elastic, wrapping around the boy and his dog, absorbing their rotational energy until the fearsome Gatsuga wound down into a harmless, dizzying spin. The pair collapsed onto the ground, utterly defeated and tangled in the now-retracting black webbing.
Kiba lay on his back, panting, staring up at the sky. He wasn't angry. He was completely, utterly flabbergasted.
Kurenai could only stare, her professional composure momentarily forgotten. The spar was a revelation. It wasn't just that Hinata was stronger; her defensive timing and predictive capabilities were on a jounin level, if not higher. She had turned the Hyuuga's Gentle Fist into an absolute, impenetrable shield.
The days that followed established a new normal for Team 8. Their training became terrifyingly efficient. With Hinata at the core, acting as a sensory hub and defensive anchor, their teamwork reached a new plateau. She could track multiple targets with her Byakugan while simultaneously using Venom's senses to pinpoint hidden threats, directing Kiba's feral assaults and Shino's insect swarms with quiet, precise commands.
The most pressing issue, however, remained her clothes. Seeing the sorry state of Hinata's ill-fitting gear, Kurenai took her under her wing. "A shinobi's attire is a tool, not just a uniform," she'd said, leading her into one of Konoha's best gear shops. "It needs to allow for movement, but it also reflects who you are."
Kurenai, with her own impeccable and slightly daring fashion sense, guided Hinata away from the standard, baggy Genin fare. They settled on a form-fitting, sleeveless black combat top made of a durable stretch fabric that could accommodate future 'growth spurts,' and dark-grey shinobi pants that were practical yet stylishly cut. The centerpiece was a new jacket. It was her signature lavender, but of a higher quality, tailored to fit her new frame perfectly. It was unzipped, as her old one had been, but now it looked like a deliberate style choice rather than a physical inability to close it. The whole ensemble was practical, formidable, and undeniably appealing, making her look less like an awkward girl and more like the powerful young woman she was becoming.
The training had left her drained, not of energy, but of fuel. The vast, aching hunger was back, a familiar companion now. As she waved goodbye to a still-dumbfounded Kiba and a studiously analytical Shino, her mind turned to the most pressing issue: dinner. She started thinking about places where she can eat. Her feet carried her aimlessly through the bustling evening streets of Konoha, her brow furrowed in concentration. It was then that a scent cut through the cacophony of the village—a rich, complex aroma of pork broth, miso, and toasted nori. Her head snapped up, and her eyes lit upon the familiar cloth banners of a small, open-air stall. Ichiraku Ramen. Of course. It was perfect.
"Welcome, Hinata-chan!" Teuchi greeted her with a warm smile. Ayame, his daughter, blinked in surprise at her new look but quickly smiled. "What can we get for you?"
"Uh… two bowls of miso pork ramen, extra large," Hinata said, then paused. "And an extra side of chashu pork. And maybe three orders of dango."
Teuchi's eyebrows shot up, but he just laughed. "A growing shinobi's appetite! Coming right up!"
When the first bowl arrived, the aroma alone was intoxicating. It was richer and more complex than she remembered. She took her first sip of the broth, and her eyes widened. It was an explosion of flavor. She could taste every single element with impossible clarity: the deep, umami richness of the miso, the savory notes of the pork bone stock, the faint sweetness of the mirin, the subtle bite of the ginger. It was as if her entire life, she'd been listening to music with cotton in her ears, and it had suddenly been removed.
...Exquisite!... Venom purred in her mind, sharing in the sensory delight. ...The lipids in this porcine broth are of a superior quality! The texture of the noodles is perfect! This is a far more worthy fuel than the tasteless rations of the field!...
She was so lost in the experience, in the simple, profound joy of truly tasting her food for the first time, that she barely noticed the stool beside her being occupied.
"Hey, old man! One miso ramen, extra-large, and make it snappy! I'm starving!"
Hinata froze, a noodle dangling forgotten from her lips. She knew that loud, boisterous, impossibly familiar voice. She slowly turned her head, her heart suddenly hammering against her ribs with a frantic, chaotic rhythm that had nothing to do with hunger. There, sitting right next to her, beaming at Teuchi and completely oblivious to her presence, was Naruto Uzumaki.
For a moment, Hinata's entire world narrowed to the boy beside her. The sounds of the village, the aroma of the ramen, even the constant, low thrum of Venom in her mind—it all faded into a roaring silence. It was him. Just… him. His bright, unruly blond hair, the whisker marks on his cheeks, the sheer, unapologetic vibrancy of his presence—it was all exactly as she remembered, yet seeing him now, so close, felt entirely new.
...The orange one... Venom's voice slid into her consciousness, its tone a mixture of clinical curiosity and predatory interest. ...His energy signature is potent. Unruly, but vast. And he smells of… loneliness. And something else. Something powerful, caged deep within him. Fascinating…
Naruto, completely absorbed in the anticipation of his meal, finally glanced sideways to see who his neighbor was. His blue eyes met her lilac ones. His brain took a second to process the image, and then his jaw dropped, his usual loud demeanor replaced by a moment of stunned silence.
"H-Hinata? Is that you?!" he finally exclaimed, his voice several decibels louder than necessary, causing half the other patrons to look over. "Whoa! What happened to you?!"
Hinata's face erupted in a blush so intense it felt like a physical wave of heat. "N-Naruto-kun," she stammered, her newfound confidence crumbling into dust in the face of his direct attention.
Naruto wasn't being mean; he was just being Naruto—utterly unfiltered. He leaned closer, his eyes wide as he gave her a once-over. "Seriously! You got… tall! And your hair is different! And your jacket is… wow!" His gaze lingered for a moment on her chest, not with any kind of lecherous intent, but with the pure, unadulterated confusion of a boy noticing for the first time that girls were, in fact, shaped differently from boys. "You look… really different. Cool! But different!"
...He has noticed our improvements... Venom purred, a wave of smug satisfaction washing through Hinata. ...He is intrigued by our new, more dominant physique. Good. The first stage of the mating ritual: attracting the eye. Next, we will demonstrate our superiority by consuming more nutrients than him...
"I… I've been training hard," Hinata managed to say, the excuse feeling flimsy even to her own ears.
"No kidding!" Naruto said, turning back to the counter as his own giant bowl of ramen arrived. He plunged his face into it with gusto, slurping down a massive mouthful of noodles before speaking again. "So! I heard a crazy rumor that you, like, disappeared! And then you came back with a super-weird new jutsu! Is it true? Did you fight a giant badger? I heard it was a badger!"
Hinata blinked, taken aback by the bizarrely specific rumor. "I… I have a new summoning contract," she said, deciding to stick to the official story. "It was part of a… a special training mission."
"A new summon? That's so cool!" Naruto said between slurps. "Who'd you get? Toads? Slugs? I bet it's something awesome! Not like our missions. All we get are the worst D-Ranks in the history of D-Ranks!"
And just like that, the floodgates opened. For the next ten minutes, with his mouth often full of ramen and pork, Naruto launched into a loud, goofy, and incredibly detailed rant about the indignities he and Team 7 had been forced to endure. He complained about chasing Tora the demon cat, about weeding a garden so vast he was sure it stretched all the way to Suna, and about painting a fence for a guy who paid them in expired coupons.
"And the whole time," he griped, pointing his chopsticks at her for emphasis, "Sakura-chan is just sighing and looking at Sasuke, and Sasuke is just standing there trying to look cool and mysterious! He's not mysterious! He's just… constipated! I swear, it's like I'm the only one doing any real work! It's a total drag!"
Hinata couldn't help it. A small giggle escaped her lips. Then another. Soon, she was laughing, a real, genuine laugh that was light and airy. The sound seemed to surprise even her. Hearing him complain, watching his dramatic and exasperated gestures, it was all so… him. So normal. In a life that had become a whirlwind of alien gods, symbiotic body-morphing, and life-or-death battles, the simple, goofy sincerity of Naruto Uzumaki was like a breath of fresh air. It was grounding. It made her feel happy.
Watching her laugh, Naruto's ranting seemed to run out of steam. He paused, a faint blush dusting his own cheeks as he saw her smile. "Hey… you've got a nice laugh, Hinata," he said, sounding genuinely surprised. He quickly buried his face back in his ramen, as if embarrassed by the sudden moment of sincerity.
The simple compliment sent a jolt through Hinata, warmer and more potent than any sip of broth. She smiled down at her own bowl, her heart doing a frantic, happy little dance. This was nice. This was really, really nice.