The silence between us was not uncomfortable, but dense—as if the air itself was waiting for one of us to speak first.
Without a word, I carefully unfastened the katana from my waist and sat down with my legs together, placing the blade reverently across my lap. Kuro, resting at my side, kept her open eye fixed on Sasuke. Her gaze was firm, assessing. Almost hostile.
Minutes passed in silence, and it was Sasuke who finally relented.
"I thought I remembered you using a quarterstaff," he murmured, a note of curiosity in his voice.
I looked up softly. No judgment. Just surprise at the memory.
There was something in his soul... childlike curiosity. A rare glimmer I recognized. Maybe, if I spoke sincerely, he would let down the walls a little. Maybe there was still a chance to plant something in the ruins.
"Forgive me... it has been a long time. This sword..." My fingers rested lightly on the scabbard. "...represents why I once used a staff, and why I let it go."
I paused to center myself.
"My father" —not Hiashi— "wanted me to carry a sword to keep with tradition. But this katana..." I drew it slowly, letting the dim light slide across the reversed blade. "...isn't made to kill. It's a sakabatō. A reverse-blade sword. This way, I don't harm more than necessary."
He said nothing, but I could feel his attention.
"Her name is Shinsei. 'Rebirth.' Named for a friend who gave his life not out of duty, but because he chose to."
Kaito.
A kata. His steady voice corrects me. Wind passed as we breathed between movements.
"Kaito," I told him, smiling gently. "He was, and still is, a great friend. Even if he can no longer walk beside me."
There was understanding in Sasuke's silence.
"Do you know how to use it?" he asked. "I've been training with the sword too. Maybe you'd like to test your father's teachings?"
"I'd be honored to share a friendly match... with someone of the famed Sharingan."
He smiled—small and brief.
"And I am with the Byakugan. Especially after your match with Neji. That taijutsu style ... was it from your father?"
I rose, sheathed Shinsei with care. Mist curled near my feet. I turned to face him.
"Perhaps... you'd prefer to see for yourself. Shall we?"
"Perfectly fine," he said.
He moved fast.
But Kuro blocked him with her body.
The Sharingan glinted. He stopped.
I bowed slightly.
"Forgive us, Sasuke-kun. Kuro wasn't told this was friendly."
I lied, Kuro understood clearly, she just didn't like Sasuke. I approached her.
"Kuro... it's a spar. Like with the samurai at home. Please watch over us?"
She stepped aside. Her gaze never left him. She didn't like him. And he knew it.
The moment our blades met, I could feel his surprise.
His speed was sharp, efficient, honed like a kunai in the rain. But I had danced with faster blades. With heavier steps. With enemies who didn't just want to defeat me—but devour me.
This was nothing like Goro. And yet, in facing Sasuke, I remembered Goro clearly.
He tried to catch me off guard. Lunge and twist. Feints and cuts. But each motion echoed in the World of Intent before it happened.
I didn't need boosts. I didn't need to overpower him. My body, forged under Takama's eyes, breathed without strain. My stance never wavered. My grip on Shinsei was clean, exact, flowing.
He aimed for my shoulder.
I turned, and the blade missed me by a whisper. My response was a brush—flat edge to his hip.
His Sharingan spun.
I could sense it. He was reading, me.
But the more he watched, the less he understood.
The World of Intent unraveled him.
He read forms. I felt, meanings.
His eyes predicted movement. My breath answered his doubts.
The foundation I learned from Michel—the rhythm of battle—remained within me and bore fruit.
Every time he thought he had me, I had already pivoted. Flowed. Listened to the thread of purpose between us and moved a step earlier.
He grew sharper. Faster. Adapted in real time.
And still, I flowed.
As he evolved, my understanding of the world of intent evolved with him.
Then came the test. He moved behind me. The blind spot.
I turned before he struck. Shinsei raised. Not in fear. In understanding.
He leapt back, panting.
"You should have used your Byakugan by now. Why don't you?"
I lowered Shinsei.
"Because I can't. The first and last time I truly awakened it was against Neji. When the clan's seal activated... it took my sight with it. And the path my eyes offered me."
I opened them. unable to see, yet present. Still. Peaceful.
"Now I see with more than just eyes. I see the world of intent"
He was quiet. Then smirked.
"Tch. Then show me what that vision can do."
We charged again.
It was a dance between what was seen...
...and what was felt.
<<<< o >>>>
Far above, from the shadowed edge of an upper corridor carved into the stone of the hidden base, a figure watched the duel with glinting spectacles and an unreadable expression.
Kabuto Yakushi adjusted the angle of his glasses with a fingertip, narrowing his eyes slightly. The spectacle below was not just interesting—it was revealing.
Sasuke-kun... you've grown, yes. But you're not invincible. And that girl... Kabuto's thoughts lingered.
He had read the reports. He had dissected the genetic fragments. But seeing her move in person was something else entirely.
Hinata Hyūga... or rather, Hinata Gin. A blade that refuses to cut, dancing with the discipline of a samurai and the intuition of a priestess. No chakra surges. No visual jutsu. And yet...
She was keeping pace with an Uchiha.
More than pace. She was guiding the rhythm, redirecting the momentum. The Sharingan, for all its power, could not fully decode her. Not because it lacked clarity... but because she was no longer moving by physical intent.
"World of Intent," Kabuto murmured to himself. "Fascinating."
Watching it in live combat made it clearer: she was operating on a different plane, or perhaps pure instinct.
And what does that make her? he thought. A failed Hyūga... or the first of something else?
His gaze flicked toward Sasuke again.
You sense it too, don't you? That she doesn't need your eyes to fight you. Maybe that bothers you more than you let on.
He tilted his head. From this distance, he could almost feel it—the weight of spiritual pressure subtly emanating from her movements.
Not chakra. Something else entirely.
Kabuto smiled faintly.
Orochimaru-sama will want to know every detail.
Then, like a whisper, he faded back into the shadows, vanishing with the silence of someone who had learned far more than expected.
Yes... she's no longer a Hyūga. She's something rarer...
She's a myth in the making.