Snowflakes whipped around like a blender on high, turning Konoha's rooftops into giant marshmallows and the street-side bushes into fluffy snowball bombs.
Tap-tap-tap.
Yamanaka Ino clutched a bundle of camellias, her little boots hauling ass through the snow. Blonde ponytail flapped in the wind, snow dusting the tips like powdered sugar on a hyper butterfly.
"Slow your roll, Ino! Wait up!"
Sakura's voice puffed out behind her, all wheezy.
Her pink hair had snowflakes stuck in it like someone dumped confetti on cotton candy. She jogged to catch up, grabbing Ino's arm. Warm, damp heat from her palm soaked through the sleeve.
Ino scrunched her brows, trying to shake her off, but Sakura clamped down harder.
"Why're you always glued to my hip?" Ino snapped, eyes sliding sideways. Makoto hasn't come looking for me in days. Bet it's 'cause this clingy chick's cockblocking our hangouts.
Sakura buried her face in Ino's arm, voice muffled like she was chewing marshmallows: "You're going to see your friend—I gotta tag along. We're besties, right?"
"Besties my ass!"
Ino shot back, but her sprint slowed to a stroll, angling her body to block the wind for Sakura.
She side-eyed Sakura's red nose and grumbled internally: If your schnoz wasn't freezing off, I'd ditch you in a heartbeat.
The two left wobbly boot prints in the snow—little craters that blurred at the edges as the wind hit 'em, like a watercolor still dripping.
Ino was fuming. Sakura had been nagging her for days to visit Makoto. Now she's thinking: Wait—this pink menace just wants more face-time with him!
She sneaky-glanced at Sakura, who was staring at her hair ribbon like it owed her money, eyes all tangled up in thought.
"Quit staring," Ino huffed, yanking her ribbon tighter.
"Ino…" Sakura tugged her sleeve, suddenly dead-serious for a kid. "Thanks for the red silk ribbon you gave me."
Ino waved it off like no biggie: "Duh, that's what friends do."
Sakura didn't reply—just cinched the ribbon tighter on her forehead, fingers rubbing the fabric, something unreadable flickering in her eyes.
They bickered their way to the Uchiha compound gate. Just as they were about to charge in, a tiny figure stood there like a lost penguin.
Hinata Hyuga was craning her neck at the gate, short hair plastered to her cheeks like honey on mochi. She clutched a scarf like it was her lifeline.
Footsteps made her whip around. Those pure-white Byakugan rippled in shock. She shrank back, shoulders bumping the icy stone pillar.
Ino's feet froze. Her eyes locked on the scarf.
That's Makoto's. He freaking loves that thing.
"What're you doing here?"
Ino took half a step forward, chin high in full mean-girl mode. White eyes—Hyuga clan. No mistaking it.
Hinata shrank further, knuckles white on the scarf. Voice barely a mosquito buzz: "I-I'm here to see…"
"Makoto?" Ino cut in, brows knotting harder. Hyuga and Uchiha beef goes way back. How the hell does she even know him? And why's she got his scarf?
Hinata's breathing hitched, cheeks pink. She tried hiding the scarf behind her back, lips sealed, just shaking her head like a bobblehead.
Right then, the compound's wooden gate creaked open. An Uchiha on guard duty stepped out—black uniform, massive clan crest stitched on the back.
He clocked the three pint-sized visitors and their chatter, then asked: "Here for Young Master Makoto?"
Ino thrust the camellias forward, snow still clinging to the petals: "Yup. These are for him."
Sakura nodded like a dashboard bobblehead, eyes sparkling with hope.
Hinata bit her lip, fingers digging into the scarf, silent but dying inside just as hard.
The guard recognized Ino from prior visits and sighed. "Young Master's not in the compound. Been gone days. Clan's got search parties out."
"WHAT?" Ino's voice cracked like a whip. Flowers almost hit the deck. "Days? And you still haven't found him?"
"Nope." He shook his head, gazing into the distance. "Got a message? I'll pass it when he's back."
Ino shoved the flowers into his hands, worry all over her face: "Tell him these are from me. Tell him to come find me the second he's back—say Ino's missing him so bad she's growing mold."
Sakura went quiet, the light in her eyes dimming. She sneak-grabbed Ino's sleeve hem, muttering: Gotta camp at Ino's house 24/7 now. If he comes back and I miss it, she'll rub it in my face forever.
Hinata's shoulders sagged like deflated balloons at the word "gone."
The guard noticed the scarf: "You got something for the Young Master too?"
Hinata hesitated, then shook her head, voice soft as fresh snow: "N-No… I'll come back later."
She couldn't leave it. That night, Makoto had said she had to return it herself. Now? The scarf burned like a branding iron in her grip, heart all stuffed and achy.
The three munchkins trudged back, snow falling harder, stretching their shadows like taffy.
A few steps in, Ino spun around and yelled at the trailing Hinata: "Hey! What's your name?"
Hinata blinked, froze mid-step, whispered: "Hinata… Hyuga Hinata."
"I'm Yamanaka Ino," she thumped her chest, then jerked a thumb at Sakura. "This is Haruno Sakura."
Sakura flashed a toothy grin, two tiny fangs popping out.
Ino eyed Hinata's red nose and blurted: "Makoto's MIA—let's hit Ichiraku Ramen. My treat!"
Hinata blinked, hesitant, hand drifting to her tummy.
Ever since Makoto ratted her out to her dad about her monster appetite, the Hyuga kitchen had been force-feeding her gourmet feasts. Her belly was stuffed.
But going home meant maybe missing Makoto's return—she'd miss even his shadow…
"C'mon!" Sakura yanked Hinata's sleeve. "Ichiraku's noodles are fire."
Hinata nibbled her lip, waffled, then nodded shyly.
Three little girls marched side-by-side through the snow—tap-tap-tap like a off-key nursery rhyme echoing down empty streets.
Ino strutted in the middle, left arm linked with Sakura, right hand occasionally poking Hinata's scarf, grilling her about Makoto.
Hinata, dying to know more, actually spoke a decibel louder.
Sakura tiptoed light, ears perked, sneaking glances at the duo, smirking like she'd won the lottery.
Snowflakes melted on their hair and shoulders—nobody cared. Hinata, usually a loner, had two new pint-sized buddies and was already loosening up.
Ino daydreamed Makoto spotting her camellias first thing and going, "Damn, those are gorgeous."
Sakura plotted tomorrow's stakeout at Ino's house, mental abacus clacking.
Hinata clutched the scarf tighter, thinking: When Makoto gets back, I'm gonna woman-up and wrap this around his neck myself—even if it's just for a second…
Ichiraku's lights glowed up ahead like a cozy mini-sun, ready to steam-wrap three scheming little gremlins with their secret crushes.
Their wobbly footprints zigzagged toward the ramen joint—an ellipsis of pure, chaotic kid expectations.