"To welcome Hinata and the others back from their mission—cheers!!"
Inside the Uchiha compound's dining room, a long table laden with food stretched out before them all. Ino, serving as host for the evening, was the first to raise her juice cup with a radiant smile. The rest of the table lifted their cups and joined in without hesitation.
"Cheers! To surviving our first month as shinobi—cheers!"
This was, unambiguously, a welcome-home feast. Unlike Team 7, the other squads had spent the past month on what could only charitably be called "missions"—collecting litter, babysitting, distributing flyers, the full catalog of D-rank drudgery. If it hadn't been for Naruto and Hinata's combined refusal to keep doing D-rank work, the Land of Waves mission would never have landed with them in the first place.
"Seriously~ it was so dangerous~ This Momochi Zabuza—he was one of the Seven Ninja Swordsmen of the Mist or something, a real Jōnin, you know~"
Two liquor-filled chocolates in, Naruto was visibly tipsy, waving both arms as he recounted the Land of Waves mission with theatrical enthusiasm. The other genin listened with reactions ranging from tense fascination to undisguised envy.
"Lucky you~ You at least got to leave the village. Every single mission we had this month was a D-rank odd job. I thought we'd finally get something worth talking about, but... ugh..."
Kiba, with Akamaru perched on his head, looked like someone recalling a very personal trauma. Clearly, he and Naruto had both suffered the full indignity of D-rank assignments—the babysitting, in particular, was something he'd apparently decided not to revisit in detail.
"D-rank missions aren't only about accumulating experience—they're about acclimating to life on assignment. Though... I have to admit, personally, I'd prefer tasks with at least a slightly higher difficulty rating."
Shino adjusted his sunglasses with one finger, precise as always. Even someone as methodical as him was a young boy at heart, and that young boy's hunger for the extraordinary made Naruto's A-rank adventure more than a little enviable.
"Heh~ Not me~ Higher-rank missions just mean proportionally more trouble. D-rank suits me fine—it's still less exhausting than working on the production team."
Naturally, there were dissenting opinions. Shikamaru was working on a piece of mackerel with serene indifference. Compared to being worked like a draft animal under Hinata's direction back at the studio, a month of D-rank assignments had been, in his view, a form of liberation.
"Honestly~ boys are all baka—when you want them to be quiet, they won't shut up; when you want them to look cool, they're as limp as wet noodles..."
Sakura pressed a palm to her forehead with a look of resigned exhaustion. In their own ways, Kiba and Shino were just as insufferable as Naruto and Sasuke—one a show-off, one a repressed show-off.
"You said it... all baka—when you want them to step up, they go completely limp on you..."
Ino slumped forward onto the table with equal weariness. She was complaining about the exact opposite problem—not too much bravado from her squad, but not nearly enough of it.
The three supervising sensei exchanged helpless looks before settling into shared, resigned smiles.
All their students were, in their own ways, exhausting. Kurenai had it relatively easy—Sakura was bright and cooperative, and while Kiba and Shino each had their own flavor of ego, their drive and raw ability were solid. Real cause for worry was limited.
Asuma had drawn a shorter straw. Shikamaru was constitutionally opposed to effort; Choji's thoughts began and ended with food; Ino's primary ambition was to make herself irresistible to Sasuke. As their teacher he had to push all three toward training—and that meant regular incentive payments. Yakiniku negotiations were a recurring expense.
Kakashi's situation was... harder to define. Sasuke was gifted and relentlessly driven. Naruto was stubborn and fundamentally decent. Hinata combined command instinct with strategic intelligence. If pressed to name his actual complaint, it might have been something like: he never really got to feel necessary.
"Now that everyone has made it through their first month as shinobi—starting tomorrow, I'll be issuing special team assignments. We're returning to production on Fox Tales. The bonus side story, The Reverse-Blade Swordsman, is ready to go, but the main series can't stay on hold any longer."
Hinata waited patiently through the chatter, then spoke from the head of the table with quiet, effortless authority. "The production team has been sitting idle for a month. That needs to end."
"Sure, sure, I knew it was coming..."
Shikamaru nodded with the energy of a man accepting an unavoidable sentence. The other team members straightened up almost involuntarily—it was clear to everyone that what Hinata had just said meant the relaxed portion of the evening was officially over.
"Don't look so miserable—the better the production does, the more we all benefit."
Hinata drained the last of her juice and set the cup down with unhurried ease. To her left, Sakura naturally reached over and refilled it from the flask nearby—an automatic gesture, clearly practiced by now.
"The publishing house facilities were completed this month as well, so we can move straight into production."
Asuma sat up a little, falling into report mode. The factory foreman in name might be him, but he was under no illusion about whose operation this actually was.
"Good. I want everything to be perfect. The second launch event is coming up—it needs to surpass the first one."
Hinata tilted her head slightly, eyes closing as she savored her drink. She would have preferred something stronger—there were moments when alcohol's burn and density helped her think more clearly—but the body she inhabited hadn't reached the appropriate age yet. Not the right time for it.
"Yes~ I'll have better crowd management in place. No repeat of last time."
Asuma nodded, understanding his assignment. The previous launch event had nearly turned into a trampling incident. For the next one, venue security, scale planning, and layout all needed to be arranged in advance.
Kurenai, gracious as always, picked up the sake flask and topped off Asuma's cup. They weren't officially married yet, but the two had long since stopped pretending otherwise. If Kurenai were in a kimono right now, this would have looked exactly like a domestic gathering.
"Speaking of which... there's something I wanted to ask."
Asuma glanced warmly at Kurenai, then returned his attention to Hinata, voice dropping into a more deferential register.
"Go ahead."
Hinata's index finger tapped lightly against the rim of her small dish. To her right, Ino had already picked up a toothpick and was methodically peeling the shells from the crayfish on Hinata's plate—careful, deliberate, placing each piece of clean white meat into the dish before her. She knew her role.
"It's about the figure supplier from last time. Should we reach out to them in advance? The quantity of figures we'll likely need this time is larger... and going forward, a stable supply source would be valuable."
Asuma chose his words with care. This was territory adjacent to probing a superior's supply chain, and even if his own intentions were innocent, the subject was a sensitive one.
And sensitive it genuinely was. The enormous profits from figure sales had caught the attention of more than a few people in the village. Konoha received substantial tax revenue from those sales, but the lion's share went to whatever mysterious manufacturer was providing the goods. Asuma's question hadn't come entirely from personal curiosity; there were people behind the scenes nudging him toward it.
"Mm... they're rather secretive, honestly—the first time, they came to me offering something called 'figures,' and I accepted on a trial basis. But it's fine. Given how well things went last time, they've already been in contact. They'll be officially sending a representative to Konoha within a week. We can receive them then."
Hinata placed a piece of crayfish in her mouth, her teeth pressing through the tender meat with unhurried precision. She hadn't missed the subtext in Asuma's question. Wherever money moved, politics followed. That the Third's people had chosen Asuma as their low-key probe—rather than applying direct pressure—was, if anything, relatively restrained.
"Is that so~! Then we'll have people ready to welcome them!"
Asuma let out a quiet breath of relief, though he did feel a trace of shame—he'd already received more than enough from Hinata's organization, and some members of his own clan had earned considerably less of her good faith.
"If there's nothing else, everyone is free to go. We start fresh tomorrow, so I expect everyone at their best. Slacking—not permitted."
Hinata sat straight, and the last words carried an edge that made every person at the table instinctively sit up and bow their heads in unison.
"We won't let you down!!"
"Dismissed."
---
Once the room had emptied, something close to anticipation surfaced in Hinata's pale eyes. Back in her room, she activated her Byakugan and swept the perimeter carefully before lifting the floor panel and descending into the hidden underground room she had prepared beneath her quarters. It housed the Suigintou wardrobe. And now, for the first time, it would also be the place where she saw Haku again.
"Well then~~ it's time we had a proper talk."
She opened the scroll, broke the seal, and the large sealing urn materialized. When she lifted the lid, the snow-pale boy who slept within—still as a drifting flake—slowly opened his eyes.