The night sky over Konoha was straight black, swallowing the last scraps of dirty-yellow light. What started as little ice pellets tapping the windows had turned into a full-on blizzard—fat flakes dive-bombing the village like God was trying to bury the place.
Street lamps glowed like hazy halos in the snow-fog. Flakes smacked against paper lanterns with tiny firecracker pops. The whole village felt sealed inside a frozen snow globe—heavy, quiet, and cold as hell.
Inside the Hyuga main house, a tiny lump under the futon quilt trembled like a kicked puppy.
Hinata had herself curled into the world's smallest ball, big milky Byakugan eyes wide open, glassy with terror. Her little fingers were white-knuckling the blanket so hard the silk was creased to death.
All day she'd heard the shouting, the cane slamming the floor like gunshots, boots running past her door. And worst—the way the Grand Elder looked after they dragged him in for questioning. Beat to hell.
Smart little kid that she was, she'd already connected the dots: everything blowing up today started with whatever happened to her last night.
The thought made her shrink even tighter, slapping both hands over her mouth like someone might hear her breathing and come for her next.
Dad still wasn't home. The snow kept piling up. Safety? Gone. Melted faster than the flakes hitting the ground.
Screw it.
She kicked off the covers, revealing a paper-thin black kimono. Bare feet hit the freezing tatami—ouch—then the even colder hallway floor. She tiptoed to the door, peeked out like a mouse, undid the latch, and bolted.
Wind slapped her face the second the door cracked open. Snow stung like needles, but she didn't stop. She had zero plan—just away. Far away from anyone who might drag her back and ask questions she was too scared to answer.
Tiny legs pumping, black kimono flapping like a baby crow, she left a trail of wobbly duck-foot prints that the blizzard erased in seconds.
Tears froze on her lashes. Snot ran. She tripped over a hidden rock—face-plant, straight into the snow. Knees burned. For a second she just lay there sniffling, then the dam broke.
Soft, hiccuping sobs leaked out—wet kitten sounds nobody could hear over the wind.
She wiped her face with snowy mittens, smearing tears and snot everywhere, stood up, dusted off her knees like a tiny soldier, and kept running. More wobbly this time. More hurt.
…
Uchiha compound, covered corridor.
Makoto leaned against a pillar, Little White (Sasuke's fat cat) curled in his arms like a furry donut, tail flicking lazily.
Snow melted the second it touched his hair, dripping down his neck and making him look unfairly pretty for someone plotting to ghost the village.
He caught a flake on his finger, watched it die.
"Snowy nights are perfect for goodbyes," he muttered.
Bag was packed. Soon as the village lost its collective mind, he was out. Peace.
His stomach growled louder than the wind. He threw on a thick jacket—full Uchiha crest on the back, because branding—wrapped the scarf Mikoto knitted him around his neck like a flag, and headed for Ichiraku's BBQ joint.
Big snow, late night… eating alone sounded lame. Figured he'd drag Sasuke.
Pushed open the brat's door—found Sasuke knocked out cold, hugging a pillow twice his size, drooling like a faucet, kicking the blanket off in his sleep, scowling at whatever dream enemy he was fighting.
Makoto just sighed, tucked the kid back in, and left him to his beauty sleep. Solo BBQ it is.
…
Konoha streets—snow already ankle-deep, crunching under his boots.
Hands in pockets, scarf pulled up over his nose, only his eyes showing—crinkled with a grin. If you ignored the giant Uchiha fan on his back, nobody would ever guess he was one. Smiling Uchiha? Endangered species.
Then—quick, frantic little footsteps mixed with crying, cutting through the wind.
Makoto raised a brow and looked.
Under the streetlamp: tiny black blur stumbling through the snow like a drunk penguin. Face-plants again. Crying turns into full waterfall.
He jogged over, stopped a few feet away.
"You planning to sleep out here and turn into a popsicle, kid?"
The little lump froze. Slowly looked up.
Red, tear-streaked face. Snow on her lashes. Big white Byakugan eyes brimming.
Hinata.
She stared at him like he was the grim reaper here to drag her back for interrogation.
Makoto stepped into the light, scarf still hiding half his face, but the smile reached his eyes.
"How'd you end up solo out here?" He clocked the thin kimono, the pure-white eyes, frowned. "Where's your family?"
No Hyuga in sight. His brain immediately jumped to: "Wait—did Danzo actually genocide them already?"
Hinata opened her mouth. Nothing came out but more tears and scared kitten noises.
"Hey, quit crying for a sec," he said, softer. Crouched down. "Want me to take you home?"
Instant head-shake so violent tears flew off like sprinklers.
Makoto snorted, unwrapped his scarf, and looped it around her neck—still warm from him. Wrapped it twice till only her giant eyes poked out.
"No home? Cool. Come with me then."
He offered his hand, palm up.
Hinata stared at it like it was a lifeline. Hesitated… then slipped her tiny, half-frozen hand into his.
He pulled her up easy. She wobbled, instinctively leaning into him for balance.
They walked toward the BBQ place, her little boots stepping exactly in his footprints like a duckling. Her hand was soft, sweaty, cold—felt nice.
He glanced down at the scarf burrito with just eyes showing and grinned wider. Sweet—free dinner buddy acquired.
Hinata peeked up at him. Streetlight painted gold edges on his lashes. He was stupid pretty. The scarf smelled like… safety? Warmth? Something that made her chest stop hurting so bad.
That smell… she swore she'd smelled it this morning when she woke up.
Snow landed on their joined hands and melted from their heat.
For the first time all night, the blizzard didn't feel quite so cold.
She squeezed his hand tighter without thinking.
Makoto felt the tiny grip, glanced down, and smirked.
Looking at this scared little cinnamon roll clinging to him, his brain flashed to future Hinata—ride-or-die, would-literally-die-for-Naruto, gentle but unbreakable.
Yeah.
He suddenly 100% understood why Toneri Ōtsutsuki lost his damn mind over her.
That kind of love wasn't loud explosions and speeches. It was quiet, relentless, soft as spring rain but tough as weeds—wrapping around the hottest flames without burning up. Following someone for years, getting ignored a thousand times, and still showing up with the same light in your eyes.
The type of pure that makes you wanna put her on a pedestal and protect her from the whole damn world.
Yeah… he got it now.