As dusk settled over the vilge, a light drizzle began to fall from the grey skies.

  Hyuga Makoto was summoned to the residence of Hyuga Hiashi.

  The living room glowed with warm yellow light, but no one was in sight.

  "Makoto, you're here," came Hiashi’s voice from the study.

  "Yes, Lord Hiashi."

  "Come in."

  Makoto removed his shoes at the doorway and stepped in quietly. The door to the study was open, revealing Hiashi bent over a desk, brush in hand, writing carefully on rice paper.

  "Have you eaten yet?" Hiashi asked without looking up.

  "Not yet."

  "Then stay for dinner."

  "Huh?" Makoto blinked, caught off guard, then quickly masked his expression with a look of exaggerated surprise.

  "What's the matter?" Hiashi lifted his eyes to gnce at him.

  "It’s just… I don’t think I’m worthy to dine with you, Lord Hiashi."

  "Nonsense. We’re of the same cn. Sharing a meal is no big deal."

  "Thank you, Lord Hiashi. I’ll accept your kindness, then."

  Makoto fell silent after that, quietly standing to the side as Hiashi continued writing.

  A while ter, Hiashi finally set the brush down with a long breath and studied his work closely.

  He turned toward Makoto, gesturing at the calligraphy. “What do you think?”

  Makoto had been watching the whole time. Honestly, Hiashi was probably just a beginner—his writing was barely passable.

  He remembered hearing that the Third Hokage had a particur fondness for calligraphy.

  "It’s impressive," Makoto said.

  "You know calligraphy?" Hiashi raised a brow.

  "Not really. But if it’s your work, it must be great."

  Hiashi chuckled softly at the boy’s honest fttery. “You really know how to talk.”

  He walked out from behind the desk and led the way out of the study. As they strolled through the corridors, Makoto followed half a step behind.

  Hiashi asked about his daily life, his tone casual—like he genuinely cared.

  The rain picked up, heavier now. Though the covered walkway kept them dry, gusts of wind swept in cold droplets that spshed lightly against their clothes.

  Before long, they arrived at another courtyard. A young woman dressed as a servant was waiting there, holding two umbrels.

  Makoto recognized her: Hyuga Harucha, personal maid to Hyuga Ayano.

  “Lord Hiashi.” Harucha bowed and greeted him, handing one of the umbrels to Makoto and raising the other above Hiashi’s head.

  Makoto instantly understood: when Hiashi had said they’d dine together, he meant they were going to Ayano’s.

  Ayano’s residence was significantly more luxurious than Ayari’s—fitting, considering she was the cn’s future matriarch. Even her maid enjoyed privileges usually reserved for main house members.

  Makoto had visited Ayari’s home many times, but this was his first time at Ayano’s. The furnishings here were elegant, the air faintly scented with perfume.

  “Hiashi.”

  “Mm.”

  “Makoto’s here.”

  “Lady Ayano.”

  “Don’t be so formal,” she said, smiling gently in casual clothes. “Just call me Sister Ayano, like I said before. I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I made a few of my favorite dishes. Try them and let me know what you think. Don’t be shy.”

  “Of course not! It’s an honor to eat something Sister Ayano cooked.”

  The table held three or four beautifully presented dishes—not a feast, but a cozy, homely meal. That made it all the more inviting.

  Makoto thought so, even as he kept his expression slightly nervous.

  Hiashi took the head seat.

  Harucha had already disappeared, no one knew when or where. Ayano took it upon herself to serve Makoto rice, gently reassuring him to treat the pce like home.

  “How is it?” she asked.

  “It’s delicious! I haven’t had food this good in ages.” Makoto beamed. “Your cooking is amazing, Sister Ayano!”

  “You live alone now,” Hiashi said. “If you need anything, just ask. The cn takes care of its people. If you’re tight on funds, we can give you more.”

  “No need, no need! It’s already more than enough,” Makoto said, quickly setting down his chopsticks.

  That much was true—Hyuga cn members, even branch families, lived quite comfortably.

  “You visited the hospital today, right?” Hiashi asked again.

  “Yes.”

  “What did the doctors say?”

  “They said I should make a full recovery in about a week.”

  Hiashi nodded. “That’s about the same time your surgery is scheduled.”

  At the mention of surgery, Makoto lowered his head slightly.

  Hiashi noticed and asked, “What’s the matter?”

  Makoto forced a smile. “It’s nothing, really.”

  “Worried about the surgery? Don’t be. The lead surgeon is a highly experienced jonin. There won’t be any issues.”

  “I believe in the vilge’s medical abilities. I’m not worried about the procedure.”

  “Then what are you worried about?” Hiashi asked evenly.

  Makoto hesitated for a moment before speaking haltingly. “I heard that… the eyes being transpnted into me came from some of the cn’s finest elders. I’m just an ordinary chunin—I worry I’m not worthy of them.”

  Hiashi observed Makoto’s face as he spoke. If the boy was putting on an act, then he was frighteningly good at it.

  But how deep could the mind of a twelve- or thirteen-year-old truly be?

  Hiashi felt reassured. With a soft smile, he said, “You earned them. You risked your life to bring back valuable intelligence from the battlefield. Even the Hokage praised you personally—said you accomplished things that most adults couldn’t.”

  “I only did what was expected of me,” Makoto replied.

  Hiashi nodded in approval. “The Byakugan isn’t meant to sit in a shrine collecting dust. Even if it were a non-shinobi cn member who lost their eyes, we would still provide repcements. If a cn can’t support and protect its own, it has no future.”

  “Besides,” he added, “you brought honor to both the vilge and the cn. We would never let someone like you suffer.”

  Makoto looked moved. “Lord Hiashi…”

  “Makoto, you are one of the pilrs of the Hyuga cn’s future. We are the oldest family in the shinobi world, with ancestors who once stood at the pinnacle of power. It is our duty to restore that legacy—and young people like you will carry that burden.”

  Makoto suppressed the heat in his chest and responded firmly, “Yes, Lord Hiashi. I will remember your words.”

  Hiashi gave a satisfied nod.

  Ayano chuckled. “You two… dinner doesn’t need to be this serious. Makoto, eat more.”

  She reached over to serve him another dish.

  “Thank you, Sister Ayano.”

  Makoto was already stuffed full on Hiashi’s fttery, but he still ate diligently.

  Outside, the storm raged louder. Thunder cracked, lightning fshed. Inside, the warm lighting and peaceful atmosphere made them feel almost like a real family—if Makoto had been a few years younger, maybe it would’ve seemed natural.

  “Have another bowl.”

  “No thank you, Sister Ayano. I’m full.”

  “You’re still growing—how can you eat so little?”

  “Well… actually, I had quite a few snacks before I came,” Makoto admitted sheepishly.

  Ayano stifled a ugh at his goofy honesty.

  “Alright, but cut back on those. They’re not healthy.”

  “Got it, Sister Ayano.”

  When Makoto stood to leave, Ayano personally walked him to the door and handed him an umbrel.

  “The rain’s heavy. Be careful on your way back.”

  Makoto bowed to both of them, then stepped into the curtain of rain, umbrel raised.

  Only after his figure vanished into the downpour did Ayano close the door and return.

  Hiashi was still sitting there.

  “Well? Feeling more at ease now?” she asked.

  “I was never worried,” Hiashi replied coolly. “He’s just a child. Even if he bears a grudge against the main house, what trouble could he really cause?”

  “My concern,” Ayano said, “was the elders. If they thought of using him as a pawn to stir up something… well, better to bring him closer and settle it. Once the surgery’s done and the seal is pced, things will go back to normal.”

  “Maybe we were just overthinking it,” Hiashi murmured.

  “Let’s hope so. The Hokage’s been hinting I should head to the front lines again. With the war ongoing, I can’t stay in the rear too long without drawing criticism. The sooner this matter is over, the better.”

  He stood up slowly.

  “I’ll take my leave now.”

  “Travel safely.”

  “You rest early.”

  Hiashi left under the storm, alone with his umbrel. The room fell into silence.

  Outside, night was bleak. The rain pounded down.

  Ayano sat alone at the table. The food remained nearly untouched—she hadn’t eaten a single bite.

  She gnced at the spot where Makoto had sat. His bowl was empty and spotless.

  She picked up his used dishes and tossed them directly into the bin beside the table.

  “Harucha.”

  “Yes, Lady Ayano?”

  “Clean this up, but quietly. I’m going to bed.”

  …

  The thunderstorm sted all night. By dawn, the rumbling finally ceased.

  Water dripped from the eaves. Puddles collected across the courtyard. A hint of chill lingered in the morning air as a soft light bloomed on the horizon.

  A sudden terrified scream rang out across the Hyuga compound, shattering the calm.

  Makoto stepped slowly out of his room, eyes turning toward the source of the noise.

  Sby, the cat, darted out after him and rubbed against his leg.

  He scooped it up, gently stroking its fur.

  “Morning’s here.”

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