She laughed again, louder this time, and for a moment, the Hyuga Compound didn't feel so stiff and foreign.
They sat there, sipping tea by the koi pond, and Souta wondered how he'd stumbled into this—teaching a Lady Hyuga to brew tea while juggling Mikoto's heat and Kushina's fire. Hana was different, though. Quiet.
"So," he said after a while, setting his cup down, "why me? You could've asked anyone to teach you this."
She paused, cup halfway to her lips, then lowered it. "You're… i just thought you are very good in making tea. I thought maybe you'd teach me something real, not just how it's 'supposed' to be done."
He tilted his head, surprised by the honesty. "Real, huh? ."
He smiled, leaning forward. "Alright, then. Lesson two: tea's better with company. Next time, bring snacks."
She smiled, small but real, and nodded. "Deal."
As they finished, a rustle of footsteps approached—light, deliberate. Souta glanced up, and his smirk froze. A girl stepped into view, her dark hair framing a face eerily familiar, those same pale eyes locking onto him with a shy flicker. Hinata. Hinata Hyuga. His mind screeched to a halt. She bowed slightly to Hana, murmuring, "Sister, I finished training. Should I join you?"
Sister? Souta's cup nearly slipped from his hand. Sister?
Hinata was supposed to be Hana's daughter, not a living, breathing presence standing here now. He stared, dumbfounded, as Hana nodded calmly. "Of course, Hinata. Sit."
Hinata settled beside her, casting Souta a quick, curious glance before dropping her gaze. He barely registered it. His brain was screaming. How was she here? Wasn't she—shouldn't she—be years away, unborn?
"Souta?" Hana's voice cut through the static in his head.
He blinked, forcing a lopsided smiled to cover his confusion. "Uh, yeah. Just… didn't expect company." His eyes flicked to Hinata again, then back to Hana. Sisters. Not mother and daughter.
Hana tilted her head, a faint crease of confusion on her brow. "This is Hinata, my younger sister. She's… quieter than I am."
"Yeah," Souta managed, voice dry. "I can see that." He took a slow sip of tea, using the motion to steady himself.
He leaned back, forcing his smirk to widen. "Well, Hinata, you're welcome to join the tea club. Lesson three: don't spill it." Hinata's lips twitched, almost a smile, and Hana chuckled.
As he left the compound later, the sun dipping low, Souta felt the weight of that shift settle in. Hana and Hinata, side by side. Not future, but present. He was either a genius or a fool for diving into this mess, and he still wasn't sure which. But the tea had been good, and the company—however confusing—better. For now, that'd have to be enough.
...
The Uchiha meeting hall was a stark, shadowed place, lit only by a few lanterns that cast harsh lines across the wooden floor. The elders sat in a tight row, six of them, their dark eyes glinting with barely contained frustration.
Fugaku stood at the head, hands clasped behind his back, his posture rigid as he stared them down. The air was heavy, thick with the scent of old wood.
"We've delayed too long," Fugaku said. "These incidents—the fights, the rumors, the eyes on us—they're no accident. Someone's moving against us. I want names."
Taro, a scarred elder with a hard face, slammed a fist on the table. "It's Danzo. That snake's been after us for years. Root's behind this—mark my words."
The others grunted in agreement, their suspicion of Danzo Shimura a well-worn groove. He'd been a thorn in the Uchiha's side since the war days, always pushing them to the village's edges, waiting for a chance to strike. This felt like his handiwork—quiet, calculated, ruthless.
Kaede, her silver hair pulled tight, spoke next, her tone sharp. "The market brawl last week—three of ours against outsiders. It wasn't random. A cloaked figure started it and slipped away before ANBU showed up. That's Root's way."
Fugaku's eyes narrowed. He'd seen the reports: two genin and a chunin, hauled before the council for starting trouble. They'd claimed provocation, but the witnesses—conveniently—said otherwise. The punishment was light, a mission ban, but it stung. "A setup," he said. "To make us look reckless."
"They're boxing us in," Hiroshi rumbled, his voice deep and slow. The oldest elder, his hands rested calmly, but his words carried weight. "Rumors we're disloyal, then these petty clashes. Danzo's building something—grounds to act."
Taro scowled. "And the Hokage just sits there. Minato is weak."
Fugaku stepped forward, his presence silencing the room. "Minato And Hiruzen won't move without evidence. Danzo knows that. He's planting it—piece by piece. We need to find his spies, cut them off."
Yuki, lean and sharp-eyed, tilted her head. "Spies, yes. Too many details are leaking. The scrolls stolen last month, now this fight—someone's talking. One of us, maybe."
The accusation landed like a kunai, and the room went still. Fugaku's gaze hardened, but he didn't blink. A traitor in the clan was a bitter thought, one he'd turned over in private. The Uchiha didn't bend easily, but desperation could break anyone.
"If there's a traitor," he said, voice cold, "they'll answer to me. But we don't accuse without proof. Right now, it's Danzo we face. We lock down the compound—double patrols, no one leaves without my order."