The Hyuga clan's meeting room smelled like a damn funeral parlor. The long sandalwood table gleamed cold and hard under the oil lamps, and the copper brazier in the corner was half-dead, too lazy to even spit smoke. Wind rattled the paper windows like it was trying to break in, but it couldn't touch the heavy-ass tension inside.
Shadows of the main-house elders stretched crooked across the beat-up shoji screens, looking like a watercolor some drunk artist had crumpled and tossed. The two Hyuga brothers knelt ramrod straight, knees digging into the tatami so hard you'd swear they were trying to leave permanent dents.
The air carried a faint whiff of medicine, coming from the head honcho, the grand elder of the main house. The old bastard had just dragged himself out of bed, wrapped in a thick cloak but still shaking like a leaf. His bony fists were clenched white as frostbite.
"That Shimura Danzo, that slimy old prick, he's gone too damn far!" His voice scraped like sandpaper on raw skin. "Torturing these old bones is one thing, but now he's got his greasy eyes on the Byakugan?!"
He slammed a fist on the table. Tea sloshed out of a cup, soaking into the wood grain like dark blood.
"The First Hokage laid down the law when he founded the Leaf: no high-up meddling in clan business. What the hell is Danzo trying to pull? Spit on the First's legacy? This is straight-up anarchy! If that bastard gets his way, he'll rip the Hyuga clan right out by the roots!"
The rest of the room went stone-faced, fingers twitching over the clan crests stitched on their sleeves.
These past few days, Danzo had been sniffing around the Hyuga compound like a dog that smelled steak. Every damn day he showed up, yapping about the Byakugan, using the Cloud ninja leader's death on Hyuga turf as his excuse, even while Cloud was still bombing the village.
If he didn't roll in with his whole Root squad every time, they'd have buried the bastard already.
Silence spread like mold. The lamp flame flickered. The grand elder clocked everyone's clenched jaws and knew they were out of time.
Once the village dealt with Cloud, Danzo would still be riding that dead Cloud leader's corpse like a hobby horse. The black mark was already glued to the Hyuga's back.
One wrong step and they were toast. They had to save themselves. The elder sucked in a breath that sounded like gravel in a blender.
"If the Leaf can't handle the Hyuga anymore, screw this village! We take our people and bounce, rebuild Hyuga glory outside these walls!"
Dead. Silence.
Everyone stared at him like he'd suggested they all streak naked through the Hokage monument. Leave the Leaf? With "Byakugan" tattooed on their foreheads? Every ninja village from here to the damn moon would pounce like starving wolves. Forget glory, they'd end up like the Uzumaki, erased.
The elder sighed at the rafters, voice dripping with "I'm about to croak" melodrama. "You cowards lost the Hyuga fire years ago. Fine, stay. I'm out, just like Uchiha Madara!"
He knew damn well the second he stepped outside, someone would bag him like groceries. But hey, better a lab rat in another village than Danzo's plaything.
Back in his prime, he'd have spat in death's face. Now? Old age made him clingy. Worst case, some village turns him into a stud horse. He's ancient, sure, but a few more years of breathing beat an early grave.
The room damn near snorted. You? Madara? That dude waltzed out the front gate like he owned the place. Only Hashirama could've stopped him, and nobody dared call it desertion. You step one foot past the gate, gramps, and boom, instant missing-nin with a kill-on-sight tag.
Hizashi Hyuga rubbed his throbbing temples, done with the old man's drama. He stood, wooden clogs thudding. "Meeting's over."
Walking home, the stone path was frozen solid under his feet.
Hizashi stared at the Hokage Rock, brows knotted tighter than a sailor's rope. He'd been racking his brain for a way out before Danzo actually gutted the clan.
Then it hit him, that night with little Hinata and that Uchiha kid, Makoto.
If the Hyuga and Uchiha joined forces…
His steps faltered. Even the whole damn Leaf would think twice before messing with us.
...
Back in the main-house courtyard, a tiny room glowed cozy from a crackling brazier.
Hinata knelt by the low table, twisting a scarf around her fingers like nervous spaghetti. That night kept replaying, Makoto's palm warm on her head, his fingers brushing her neck when he tied the scarf…
Her cheeks flashed hot. She buried her face in the wool, the fuzz tickling her nose and making her heart do stupid flips.
"Makoto… how come you haven't come see me? Are you busy…?"
She mumbled, picking at a loose thread. Wind howled outside like it was daring her.
After ages of waffling, she gripped the scarf, shot to her feet, and, thump, her little feet hit the floor. She glanced down, white cotton socks hugging her toes, all scrunched from nerves like a scared bunny.
Before that night, she'd never left the compound alone. Now…
She bit her lip, eyes sparkling with something brand-new. Hand on the doorknob, go find him.
Heart pounding like a drum solo, face hot enough to fry bacon, she yanked the door open.
Snow and wind slapped her face, eyelashes trembling. She wound the scarf twice around her neck until only her shiny eyes peeked out.
Tip-toeing through snow, her shoes sank with soft crunches, each print a tiny ripple in her chest.
A wobbly line of footprints trailed from Hyuga turf toward the Uchiha compound, a crooked silver thread glinting in the moonlight.
She walked slow, but never looked back.
Hizashi watched from a distance, didn't stop her, just signaled branch-house guards to tail her and keep her safe.
At the same time, two other pint-sized figures were trudging through the blizzard, headed straight for Uchiha turf.