Chapter Text
The training grounds behind the Hokage Residence lay shrouded in the golden hush of late afternoon, the only sounds the faint rustle of wind-stirred leaves and the sharp, rhythmic thud of small fists meeting guarded arms. Dust motes danced in the slanted sunlight as two six-year-old boys circled one another with ferocious intensity.
Naruto, his sun-bright blond hair plastered to his forehead with sweat, had been forced entirely on the defensive. His arms crossed tightly in front of him, trembling under the relentless barrage from his red-haired twin. Menma’s eyes burned with focus, his fist a blur as it slammed into Naruto’s guard with a dull, bruising impact.
“Create distance, Naruto!” came the stern command from the sidelines. The Third Hokage, Hiruzen Sarutobi, stood with arms folded, his weathered tan face framed by that familiar crown of spiky grey hair, pipe clenched between his teeth.
Naruto obeyed instantly, springing backward; only to meet Menma’s sweeping kick squarely in the gut. The blow lifted him off his feet, hurling him through the air until he crashed onto the packed earth with a pained yelp. “Ow!” he wheezed, curling around his bruised stomach and rolling in the dirt.
Menma’s fierce expression shattered. Worry creased his brow as he dashed forward. “Naruto—are you okay?”
The answer came in the form of a sudden, vicious headbutt. Menma staggered back, clutching his throbbing forehead, and in that moment of disorientation felt something hook his ankle. He toppled backward, landing hard. When his vision cleared, two identical Narutos loomed over him, both wearing identical triumphant grins that revealed the telltale whisker marks on their cheeks.
“Gotcha!” the pair crowed in perfect unison, jabbing accusatory fingers down at him.
Menma’s lips curved into a dangerous smirk. Bracing both palms against the ground, he exploded upward, twisting his hips mid-air and lashing out with both legs. His feet connected simultaneously—two sharp cracks against two identical faces. Both Narutos dropped like stones.
Poof.
A cloud of white smoke erupted beside the real Naruto, the shadow clone vanishing as quickly as it had appeared. Before Naruto could scramble upright, Menma was already there, fist drawn back. The punch stopped an inch from Naruto’s nose.
“I win,” Menma declared, voice steady, a confident tilt to his smile.
“No fair!” Naruto protested, still flat on his back, pointing upward indignantly. “I dropped you first!”
Hiruzen’s sandals crunched across the dirt as he approached, the faintest smile softening the lines of his aged face. “You did put him on the ground, Naruto,” he allowed, “but you failed to maintain control of the fight. Victory is not won by a single blow; it is secured when your opponent can no longer rise.”
Menma stepped back and offered a hand; Naruto took it with theatrical reluctance, hauling himself upright and dusting off his orange jacket.
“A fine use of the Shadow Clone Technique,” Hiruzen continued, nodding toward the blond twin. His gaze sharpened. “Yet the moment you had the advantage, you wasted it on gloating. Momentum is fleeting; arrogance squanders it.”
Naruto huffed and looked away, cheeks puffed in defiance.
Hiruzen turned to the red-haired boy. “And you, Menma—excellent recovery.” His tone grew stern once more. “But you nearly threw the match away the instant you—”
“—let compassion override tactics,” Menma finished quietly. “I know.”
The old Hokage’s expression softened again. He lifted his gaze toward the towering stone faces of the Hokage Monument, eyes lingering on the Fourth’s noble features carved eternally into the cliffside.
“The Fourth would be proud of you both,” he murmured.
Naruto scowled up at the monument. “That guy? He’s the one who put the fox in us!”
Hiruzen caught a drifting leaf between his fingers, raising it so the hole torn through its center framed the boys perfectly. He peered at them through that empty space, voice low and steady. “He did not curse you. He saved the village; and in doing so, ensured that children like you could stand here today, alive and strong, beneath the banner of the Leaf.”
Silence hung for a moment. Then Naruto thrusted a thumb against his own chest. “Well, I could’ve done it better! That’s why I’m gonna become Hokage, believe it!”
Menma’s hand settled gently on his twin’s shoulder, crimson hair catching the fading sunlight. A quiet smile curved his lips. “Then I’ll make sure the world’s safe enough for you.”
Hiruzen looked between them, eyes gleaming with something that might have been pride, or hope, or both. “The Will of Fire burns brightly in you two,” he said, placing a weathered palm atop each spiky head. “The Uzumaki Twins will carve their names alongside every legend that came before them. I have no doubt.”
The air grew still again—until a familiar drawling voice broke through
“Dad!”
The moment broke. Asuma Sarutobi leaned against the rear entrance of the residence, cigarette glowing between his teeth, infant Konohamaru cradled casually in the crook of one muscular arm.
Hiruzen sighed through his nose. “Asuma. Must you smoke around the baby?”
Asuma grinned around the cigarette, angling the lit end carefully away. “Relax, old man. Second-hand toughness. By the time this kid’s their age, his lungs’ll be tempered steel.”
“What is it?” Hiruzen asked wearily.
Asuma fished an official-looking envelope from his flak jacket and waved it. “Council of Clan Heads wants an emergency meeting. This explains the topic. Sounds urgent.”
Hiruzen pinched the bridge of his nose, then turned back to the twins. “Training is finished for today. You’re free to go.”
He paused, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Within reason, of course… or whatever Menma deems reasonable.”
Naruto’s jaw dropped in outrage. “Hey!”
Chuckling under his breath, the Third Hokage disappeared into the estate.
The instant he was gone, identical feral grins spread across the twins’ faces. Without a word, they bolted for the tall perimeter wall. Small hands found purchase; feet pushed off earth and stone. They vaulted to the top in perfect synchronization, silhouettes framed for a heartbeat against the burning orange sky.
“We are the Uzumaki Twins!” they roared in unison, voices ringing across the village.
Then they leapt, orange and red streaks arcing high over the gates, vanishing into the bustling streets of Konoha below.
The sun hung high over Konoha, casting long, shifting shadows as the twins sprinted through the Chūibukai district. In this northern stretch of the village, the air felt different—cleaner, quieter, and heavy with the prestige of the neighboring Hokage District. They raced past manicured hedges and sturdy gates that guarded the estates of high-ranking shinobi and wealthy civilians, the architecture here a testament to the village’s prosperity.
As they pivoted toward the western edge, the refined silence of the upper class was replaced by a chaotic symphony of howls and yips. This was the heart of the Inuzuka territory. Here, the scent of cedar and wet fur hung thick in the air. Ninja hounds—some the size of small ponies—trotted purposefully alongside their spiked-haired partners, while the roadside kennels were a flurry of activity. Some dogs lounged lazily in the sun, while others paced their enclosures, vocalizing their restless energy to anyone who would listen.
“Hey Menma, look at that one!” Naruto called out, his momentum breaking as he skidded to a halt. He pointed toward a small, scruffy puppy with greyish-white fur. The little creature was a ball of fury, throwing its entire weight against the wire mesh of a kennel outside a local supply shop.
“Naruto, I really don't think you should do that,” Menma warned, his voice laced with the weary foresight of a brother who had seen this script play out before. He watched, helpless, as Naruto began to snake a curious finger through the gaps in the wire.
“What?” Naruto grinned back, his eyes bright with mischief. “It won’t bite, Menma! It’s just grumpy because it’s stuck in a cage. It needs a friend.”
“I don’t think th—”
Chomp!
The air was sliced by a sharp, ragged scream. The puppy had moved with the blinding speed of its lineage, its tiny, needle-like teeth latching firmly onto Naruto’s index finger.
“Ahhh! Get it off! Get it off!” Naruto wailed, thrashing his hand wildly in a desperate bid for freedom. The spectacle drew the eyes of passing villagers; some muffled laughs behind their hands, while a few older shinobi simply shook their heads in a mixture of pity and secondhand embarrassment.
Menma sighed, stepping forward with practiced calm. Rather than pulling, he reached his own hand toward the kennel, deftly scratching the pup behind its ears and along its flank. The distraction worked. The puppy’s ears flicked, its jaw loosened just enough for Naruto to yank his hand back.
Naruto cradled his throbbing finger, his face contorting from sharp pain into a mask of pure indignation. He glared at the small dog, who stood its ground, tail wagging defiantly.
“What was that for, you mangy mutt!?” Naruto bellowed, face flushing red.
The puppy didn't back down; it let out a sharp, mocking bark that sounded suspiciously like a laugh.
Ding-dong.
The shop door’s bell gave a cheerful jingle that was immediately sliced in half by a sharp, feminine voice.
“What do you think you're doing to Akiyama?!”
The twins snapped their heads toward the sound. Standing in the doorway was a girl their age, her presence as wild as the district itself. She had messy, medium-length brown hair that looked like it had never known a comb, and the iconic Inuzuka markings—two sharp, blue inverted triangles—slashed across her cheeks. Looming just behind her was a man who was clearly her father; he shared the same unruly mane and facial markings, though his expression was weathered and far less explosive.
“My brother was just trying to pet her,” Menma offered quickly, his voice dipping into a practiced, apologetic tone to de-escalate the tension.
“Yeah, and then the stupid mutt bit me!” Naruto chimed in, brandishing his throbbing finger like a piece of evidence.
Menma felt a cold wave of dread wash over him. Rule one of the West End: Never call an Inuzuka’s partner a mutt.
The girl gasped, her eyes widening as if Naruto had insulted her own mother. Her scowl deepened into a fierce glare. “Don’t you dare call her a mutt!” she snapped, jabbing a finger first at Naruto and then at the puppy, Akiyama, who was still yapping triumphantly from behind the wire.
“That’s exactly what she is!” Naruto barked back, refusing to yield an inch of ground.
Menma quickly clamped a firm hand on his twin’s shoulder, leaning in. “Be quiet, Naruto,” he hissed into his ear. Straightening up, he turned back to the two Inuzukas with a calm, level gaze. “I apologize for my brother’s choice of words. He was just looking to be friendly, and the bite took him by surprise.”
The man took a step forward, his eyes narrowing as he studied Menma. The girl’s fire seemed to simmer down slightly under her father’s steady presence.
“You don’t talk like someone your age,” the man noted, his voice a low rumble. He offered a slight, begrudging nod. “And I appreciate the honesty. You’d be surprised how many people poke at the Hounds and then lie through their teeth when they get nipped.”
He turned his attention to his daughter. “Okino, apologize to them.”
Okino’s brow furrowed in utter confusion. “Why, Dad?”
“Because he did,” the man replied simply, gesturing toward Menma.
Okino let out a sharp huff of air through her nose, her mouth hanging open as she searched for a retort that wouldn't come.
“Okino.” Her father’s voice held a subtle, firm weight.
“Okay, okay! I’ll say it!” she conceded, crossing her arms. She looked directly at Menma, pointedly ignoring the blonde boy standing right next to him. “I apologize for being aggressive. Happy?”
“Good. Now, get Akiyama. It’s time for training,” the man commanded.
The change in Okino was instantaneous. A bright, genuine smile broke across her face as she hurried to the kennel. She unlatched the gate and scooped the greyish-white puppy into her arms, the little dog immediately transitioning from a terror to a licking, tail-wagging machine.
Without another word, the trio began to make their way down the street, their forms blending into the busy bustle of the Inuzuka district. The twins were left standing in the wake of the encounter, the silence of the street feeling suddenly very heavy.
“She didn't say a damn thing to me,” Naruto muttered through gritted teeth, glaring at the space where the girl had just been standing.
Wonk!
The dull thud echoed as Menma’s fist connected sharply with the top of Naruto’s head.
“Ow!” Naruto yelped, his hands flying up to clutch his scalp as he winced from the impact. “What was that for?!”
“That,” Menma said, his voice low and edged with a tension that hadn't quite left his shoulders, “was for almost getting us into serious trouble. We’re lucky they didn't realize who—or what—we are.”
Menma’s eyes flickered toward the horizon, where the stone visage of the Fourth Hokage stared out over the village from the Great Stone Face. He could feel it then—the shift in the atmosphere. The curious glances from the passing villagers had soured, turning into the familiar, heavy weight of judgmental stares. The whispers didn't need to be loud to be felt.
“How was I supposed to know the little monster was going to bite me?” Naruto grumbled, still massaging his sore head, though his voice had lost some of its previous fire.
“It doesn’t matter anymore,” Menma replied shortly. He could feel the burn of those cold eyes on his back, a sensation that always made the skin on his neck prickle. He didn't want to be a spectacle, and he certainly didn't want to stay in a place where the air felt like it was thickening with resentment.
Without another word, Menma turned on his heel and began walking away, his pace brisk and purposeful.
“Hey, Menma! Wait up! Where are we going?!” Naruto called out, scrambling to catch up as his brother’s silhouette began to recede down the street.
“Somewhere else,” Menma answered, not looking back. His voice was flat, carrying a trace of a bitterness he usually tried to hide. “We’re not welcomed here.”
The two brothers moved forward, their small figures weaving through the crowds. Slowly, the frantic barking of the Inuzuka hounds faded into the distance, and the sharp, piercing glares of the civilians were swallowed by the shadows of the village alleys. Behind them, the district returned to its usual rhythm, leaving the twins to continue their restless journey through a village that felt like home and a cage all at once.
After another twenty minutes of hard sprinting, the scenery shifted once more. The twins emerged onto the eastern edge of the Chūibukai district, a place defined by an entirely different kind of intensity. This was the heart of the Hyūga Clan’s influence.
If the West End was a chaotic storm of barking and motion, the East End was a still, deep lake. The silence here was intentional, almost heavy. Pedestrians moved in synchronized, perfect streams, navigating the walkways with a terrifying level of grace and harmony. Menma found himself mesmerized by the architecture; the buildings were masterpieces of traditional elegance, with sweeping eaves and pristine white walls. However, the atmosphere was far from welcoming. Every few paces, they felt the weight of a gaze from a passing Hyūga—those pale, milk-white eyes seemed to pierce right through their skin, watching them with a cold, unsettling clinicality.
“Look, it’s the weird-eyed people,” Naruto hissed into Menma’s ear, punctuating the observation with a muffled snicker.
A ghost of a smirk tugged at the corner of Menma’s mouth, but it vanished instantly as something caught his eye. Something was breaking the perfect harmony of the street.
A small figure was weaving frantically through the disciplined crowd. As the gap closed, the blur resolved into a girl about their age. She had short, purplish-black hair that fluttered behind her as she ran, and the signature sightless eyes of her clan—though hers were currently swimming in tears. She wore a simple, dark outfit, and her face was a mask of sheer distress.
“You see that, Naruto?” Menma asked, his gaze locked on the girl’s retreating form.
“What, you mean the girl running?” Naruto replied, his humor replaced by sudden curiosity. “Yeah, I see her. I think she goes to our academy.”
Menma searched through his memories, sorting through the rows of faces in their classroom. After a few seconds, the image clicked. “She does,” he confirmed. “She usually sits way up near the front. I think her name is… Hinata.”
“What do you think she’s running from?” Naruto asked, his brow furrowing as he watched her disappear around a corner.
“I don’t know,” Menma murmured, a sense of protectiveness or perhaps just curiosity sparking in his chest. “But I think we should follow her.”
A wide, mischievous grin split Naruto’s face, his previous frustration with the puppy forgotten. “Let’s go!”
Without a second thought, the two brothers pivoted, abandoning their aimless wandering to trail the crying girl through the silent, watching streets of the Hyūga.
They maintained a careful distance, moving with a synchronized stealth that kept them out of Hinata's sight. They didn't want to spook her, but her flight was reckless; she barrelled through the Chūibukai streets until she collided with a boy carrying an ice cream cone, sending the frozen treat sprawling onto the dirt. She didn't even stop to look back.
Eventually, the chase led them into In'utsuna Park. It was a sprawling green space filled with ancient, towering trees that offered a sense of isolation from the village’s rigid order. Deep within the groves, the sounds of the bustling streets faded into a heavy silence.
The twins ducked behind the thick trunk of an oak tree, watching as Hinata finally collapsed to her knees. She was spent, her lungs burning and her legs giving out. Between ragged gasps for air, a fresh wave of sobbing took her.
“Why am I so weak?” she whispered, her voice a fragile thread in the wind.
“Crybaby!”
The taunt cut through her grief like a jagged blade. The boy from the street—the one whose ice cream had met the pavement—marched into the clearing with two of his cronies in tow. Their faces were twisted into sneers that promised nothing but trouble. They quickly circled her, boxing her in.
“You see this?” the leader demanded, shoving the empty, sticky cone inches from her nose. “I spent three ryo on this, and you just knocked it over.”
Hinata scrambled to her feet, her instinct screaming at her to flee, but the boy was faster. He lunged forward, snagging a handful of her short, dark hair. With a cruel jerk, he forced her back down to her knees. “You don’t get to leave until you apologize.”
“I’m sorry,” she squeaked, her voice trembling.
“I can’t hear you!” the boy mocked, his friends snickering like hyenas behind him.
“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” she wailed, the tears flowing freely now.
The boy grinned, savoring his petty victory—until a sharp thwack echoed through the clearing. A rock the size of a fist caught him square in the back of the head.
He stumbled forward with a cry of pain, clutching his skull. The three bullies spun around to find Menma and Naruto standing just a few yards away, both wearing identical, satisfied smirks.
“Which one of you bastards threw that?!” the leader growled through gritted teeth, his face reddening with fury.
“Come find out,” Naruto challenged. He slammed his hands together in a familiar cross-sign. “Shadow Clone Jutsu!”
Poof! Poof! Poof!
Three plumes of white smoke erupted, and as they cleared, four identical Narutos stood in a line, all rhythmically cracking their knuckles. The bullies’ bravado evaporated instantly. Looking at the five-to-three disadvantage—and realizing they were facing actual shinobi-in-training—their eyes went wide.
“Let’s get out of here!” the leader shrieked, and the three of them scrambled away into the brush, leaving a trail of dust in their wake.
Poof! The clones vanished into thin air, leaving the original Naruto standing there with a dry, almost disappointed expression.
“Look at them run! What a bunch of cowards!” Naruto yelled, pointing a mocking finger toward the trees.
“Yeah, they are,” Menma agreed, crossing his arms and shaking his head. He glanced toward the girl on the ground. “But we already knew that the moment they started bullying a girl.”
They approached Hinata slowly. She remained on her knees, her pale eyes wide with shock, her cheeks stained with a mixture of fresh and drying tears.
“You alright?” Naruto asked, tilting his head.
She didn't respond. She just stared at them, her breath hitching in her chest.
“Hello? Earth to Hinata?” Naruto said, waving a hand in front of her face. The movement seemed to snap her out of her trance, but her gaze didn't fix on Naruto. Instead, her eyes drifted upward, locking onto something—or someone—standing directly behind the twins.
The twins felt it at the same instant—a heavy, firm hand dropping onto each of their shoulders. The temperature in the clearing seemed to plummet.
“What exactly are you two doing to my little sister?”
The voice was cool, precise, and belonged to someone older. Both boys leapt forward as if they’d been struck by lightning, spinning around to face the intruder. Standing there was a boy of about thirteen, his long brown hair tied loosely at the back. He was dressed in traditional, high-collared robes that marked his status. His pale eyes were fixed on them with a chilling intensity.
He looked down at the disheveled, trembling Hinata, then back at the twins. A deceptive, razor-thin smirk pulled at his lips.
“So, you’ve decided to put your hands on the daughter of the Head of the Hyūga Clan?”
Before they could even explain, the skin around the boy's eyes began to distort. Thick, pulsing veins bulged from his temples, webbing out across his face. It was a terrifying sight that sent a jolt of pure adrenaline through the twins. Instinctively, they dropped into defensive stances.
“Naruto, be careful! With those eyes, he’s—”
“Seeing right through us, I know!” Naruto cut him off, his jaw set. He slammed his hands into the cross-sign once more. “Shadow Clone Jutsu!”
Poof!
Three clones erupted into existence. The standoff shattered in an instant as the Hyūga teen blurred toward them.
“Naruto, wait!” Menma yelled, but it was too late. All four Narutos charged like a pack of wild dogs, leaving Menma with no choice but to follow. That idiot, Menma thought frantically. He doesn't get it. Those eyes grant him near-360° vision. A sneak attack is impossible!
The collision was a masterclass in efficiency. Three Narutos led the frontal assault while the fourth attempted a wide flank. The teen didn't even seem to move—he flowed. He caught the first Naruto’s wrist mid-air, using the boy’s own momentum to hurl him like a ragdoll into a nearby oak. The clone vanished into smoke on impact.
The second Naruto swung a heavy kick at the teen’s ribs, only to have his leg parried effortlessly. With a lightning-fast palm strike to the chest, the second clone was snuffed out. The third Naruto tried a desperate uppercut, but the Hyūga slipped the punch with an elegant tilt of his head, countering with a series of rapid-fire finger-pokes to the clone's pressure points. Poof.
Menma skidded to a halt, his heart hammering against his ribs. He watched as the final, real Naruto leapt from the shadows behind the teen, a scream of effort tearing from his throat.
Without even turning his head, the Hyūga teen delivered a brutal back-kick. His heel connected squarely with Naruto’s sternum, launching the boy backward into the dirt.
“Ow!” Naruto groaned, clutching his chest and gasping for the air that had been knocked out of him.
“Hm. A forbidden jutsu,” the teen remarked, his pale gaze remaining fixed on Menma.
Menma felt a cold sweat break across his brow. He’s tracking me and watching Naruto at the same time. He isn’t even breaking a sweat.
“Are you going to attack me?” the teen taunted, his voice smooth and mocking. “Or will you run off like a coward, just like those other boys?”
Menma glanced at Naruto, struggling to find his feet, and then back at the monster in front of him. Every instinct he had told him they were outmatched—that they had no chance of winning this fight. But looking at his brother, he knew one thing for certain: he couldn't leave him behind.
With a sharp, focused exhale, Menma launched himself forward.
The Hyūga teen dropped into his clan’s signature stance—knees bent, palms open, a picture of absolute centeredness. Menma blurred, closing the distance in a jagged zigzag motion to throw off his opponent's tracking. He dipped low, driving a punch toward the teen’s abdomen, but the Hyūga’s palm met his wrist with a fluid deflection, guiding the strike harmlessly into the dirt. Using the momentum, Menma planted his hand, pivoted his weight, and whipped his right heel around in a stinging kick.
The teen caught the foot mid-air with a bored expression, then tossed Menma aside like a discarded toy. Menma skidded across the grass, managed to find his footing, and scrambled back to his brother’s side.
“You okay, Naruto?” Menma hissed, his eyes never leaving the enemy.
“I-I don’t know… my chest,” Naruto groaned, his face pale as he struggled to pull in a full breath.
Seeing his twin doubled over in pain caused a hot, prickling sensation to swell in Menma’s chest. The fear was gone, replaced by a cold, sharp-edged fury. He’ll pay for what he did to Naruto, he vowed silently.
He charged again, his movements fueled by desperation. He leaped into the air, unleashing a rapid-fire chain of three kicks, but each one was met by the teen’s forearms in a series of dull, rhythmic thuds. As soon as Menma’s feet touched the turf, the teen moved like a viper. He seized the fabric of Menma’s shirt—one hand at the collar, one at the hem—and spun him with the violent force of a typhoon.
THUD!
The world tilted on its axis as Menma slammed into the ground. His vision fractured into blurry smears of green and grey, and a high-pitched ringing drowned out the sounds of the park. Before he could recover, he felt his left arm wrenched behind him into an agonizingly tight lock. A heavy weight pressed into the back of his neck and lower spine.
Naruto looked up, his eyes widening in horror. The teen was now perched on Menma’s back, pinning his upper body with a well-placed foot while his own weight anchored Menma to the dirt. He held the boy’s arm at an angle where one deliberate surge of pressure would snap the bone like a dry carrot.
“Now,” the teen began, his voice sounding more amused than interrogational, “why exactly were you harming my sister?”
Menma gritted his teeth against the dirt, his eyes straining to find Hinata. She was still there, huddled on the ground, her face a mask of sheer terror.
“You can’t speak?” the teen mocked, his grip on the arm tightening just a fraction. “Well, I’ll give you to the count of three. One... two... three—”
“Nii-chan!”
Hinata’s voice, small but piercing, cut through the tension. The teen froze, his counting halted as he turned his pale, vein-ridged eyes toward his sister.
Hinata had scrambled to her feet, her small frame trembling as she reached out a hand. The tears were back, but this time they were thick with a heavy, suffocating guilt.
“Nii-chan, stop!” she cried out, her voice cracking. “T-they saved me from a group of bullies. T-they didn’t hurt me!”
The teen froze. He looked down at Menma, whose face was pressed into the dirt, before slowly loosening his grip and stepping back. The crushing weight vanished instantly.
“I must say, my apologies,” he said smoothly, though his voice lacked any real warmth. He straightened his robes as Menma stumbled to his feet, clutching his throbbing arm and hissing through his teeth. Across the clearing, Naruto was finally standing, though he remained hunched over, one hand still clamped firmly over his aching chest.
Menma ignored his own pain, his gaze darting between his brother and the teen who now stood protectively beside Hinata.
“Are you alright, Hinata?” the teen asked. She offered a soft, hesitant nod.
The Hyūga then turned back toward the twins, his expression shifting into a mask of polite gratitude. “I thank you for aiding my little sister. She can be quite… fussy,” he said, leaning into the word with a sharp edge of condescension. “But she is held dearly by my family.”
With a formal, shallow bow, he reached out and snatched Hinata by the wrist. The suddenness of the movement made her flinch, but he began to lead her away without a second glance.
“Wait! What’s your name?!” Menma called out, his voice echoing through the quiet grove.
The teen paused, glancing back over his shoulder with that same deceptive, razor-thin smirk. “My name is Hiroshi Hyūga, son of Hiashi and Otsukimi Hyūga,” he announced, his voice carrying the weight of his lineage. He turned back toward the path, his voice dropping to a low murmur that barely reached the twins. “And heir to the Hyūga Clan.”
The twins stood in the center of the park, the silence of the forest closing in around them as they watched the two figures disappear into the dense treeline. They were left with nothing but the dull throb of their injuries and the unsettling memory of Hiroshi’s pale, veined eyes.
However, the moment they were out of the twins' sight, the mask of politeness shattered. Hiroshi’s grip on Hinata’s wrist tightened until her skin paled. He began to drag her forward, his pace quickening with an aggressive, impatient energy.
“Ow, Nii-chan!” Hinata winced, trying to pull back.
Hiroshi whipped his head around, his expression twisted with annoyance. “Be quiet,” he hissed, his voice a low venom. “I was forced to come all the way out here to retrieve you just because you wanted to flee from a little ridicule.”
His gaze hardened, his lip curling in a sneer of pure disgust.
“Not to mention I had to be nice to those twin demon mutts,” he spat, the words sounding like filth in his mouth. “But once we return to the estate, you’ll be Father’s problem.”
Without another word, he yanked his sister forward, dragging her back toward the cold, silent walls of the Hyūga estate.