Souta Returned To his house soon after
The main house wasn't much—tucked away on the outskirts, a modest two-story thing he'd picked for its privacy more than its charm.
He pushed the front door open, expecting the faint scent of her tea or the sound of her moving around . Instead, silence greeted him.
"Pakura?" he called, voice lowg. Nothing.
He stepped inside, shutting the door behind him, eyes scanning the dim room. The kitchen counter was bare, the kettle cold. Her usual spot by the window—empty. A single sheet of paper sat on the low table in the center of the room, edges curling slightly, like it'd been left in a hurry.
Souta crossed the space in three strides, snatching the note up. The handwriting was hers, but the ink smudged at the end, like her hand had shaken. He read it fast.
Souta,
I have to go. I have some work. Don't come find me or try to follow me. Stay in Konoha. Don't go out. Be safe. I'll try to be back as soon as possible.
—Your Pakura
He stared at it, rereading the choppy sentences, the abrupt tone. And a low mutter slipped out, rough and sharp. "Idiot… doesn't even know how to lie properly."
He crumpled the note in his fist, dropping it back onto the table. Pakura didn't just up and leave—not like this. She wasn't the type to scribble some half-assed excuse and bolt without a word in person. "Some work"? That was bullshit. She'd have told him—maybe not the details, she was cagey like that—but something.
Something had happened. Something big enough to yank her out of hiding, without so much as a glance back.
Souta paced the empty room, boots thumping, moonlight stretching his shadow. Pakura's note—telling him to stay put, be safe—ticked him off. Sit around while she ran into trouble? Hell no. She was his—stubborn, infuriating—and he wouldn't let her face it alone. If she got hurt, he'd never forgive himself. Waiting wasn't happening.
"Time to move," he muttered, mind set.
Upstairs, he grabbed a frayed pack, tossing in kunai, a shirt, wire, rations. He snagged a dark cloak—still faintly carrying her scent—and tied it on. In the kitchen, he swiped dried meat and a waterskin. He didn't know where she'd gone, but he'd figure it out.
She was good at hiding, but he wasn't clueless.
He eyed her crumpled note—"Stay in Konoha"—and scoffed. "Yeah, right, Pakura." He'd leave at dawn, play it smart. Disguise it as a trip to a nearby town for "work"—keep Danzo's spies off his back. No need to tip anyone off tonight.
He slung the pack over his shoulder, set it by the door, and crashed on the couch. A few hours' rest, then he'd move.
Souta slipped out of Konoha as the sun crept up, the village gates fading behind him. The cloak hung loose over his shoulders, hood shadowing his face, pack bouncing lightly with each step.
Tanzaku for supplies—his cover story—rolled off his tongue easy enough if anyone asked. No one did. The road stretched ahead, dust kicking up under his boots.
She was gone, and he wasn't a ninja—just some guy with a knack for trouble and a stubborn streak. Finding her felt like chasing smoke.
He wasn't trained for this. No chakra, no jutsu to sniff out her trail. She could be anywhere—Suna, the riverlands, some backwater he'd never heard of. Pakura was a shinobi, sharp and slippery, built to vanish when she wanted.
He was just Souta—good with a knife, decent at reading people, but no tracker. The odds were brutal. She could be halfway across the country, and he'd be stumbling blind, no clue where to start.
Still, he kept moving west, toward the riverlands—less traffic, more places to hide. Maybe he'd get lucky, overhear something in a village. Maybe not. Either way, sitting still wasn't in him.
The path wound through sparse trees, the morning air cool and sharp. He'd gone maybe a mile when a soft rustle snapped him alert. A figure stepped onto the road ahead—slender, dark-haired, pale eyes catching the light. Hinata Hyuga. Souta paused.
Hinata had slipped out of Konoha at dawn, her steps quick and purposeful, a quiet rebellion simmering beneath her calm exterior.
At 25, she was a seasoned shinobi, her strength honed through years of discipline, but the Hyuga clan had other plans for her lately. The elders had been relentless—marriage talks, suitors paraded before her, their voices dripping with expectation: a union to strengthen the bloodline, to secure alliances. She'd nodded through the meetings, her hands clasped tight, but inside she'd bristled. She wasn't a bargaining chip.
Needing a break, she'd seized the excuse of a trip to a nearby town—something about supplies, a task she'd made up on the spot. The real reason? To breathe, to dodge the suffocating weight of their demands, if only for a day. Her pack was light, her Byakugan ready, and she'd left without fanfare.
Now, she regarded Souta, head tilting slightly. "Souta… you are the Big sister tea teacher, right?" Her voice was calm, measured, carrying a soft clarity despite the breeze.
Souta scratched his neck, sizing her up. "Yeah, that's me. Didn't expect to run into you out here, Hinata. What's your deal?"
Hinata's fingers brushed the strap of her pack, a brief flicker of hesitation. "I'm… heading to a nearby town. Something I need to take care of." She kept it vague, her tone even, then glanced at his gear. "And you? Where are you headed?"
"Looking for a friend," Souta said, shrugging.
Hinata nodded, not pushing for more, then stepped closer, her eyes narrowing slightly. "This road can be rough alone. You're not a shinobi, right? Bandits show up sometimes, even rogue ninja. I could come with you if you want. My eyes'd give us a heads-up—I'd hate for Sister Hana's tea teacher to get jumped."
Souta raised an eyebrow, Smiling. "What, you're my bodyguard now?"
She blushed a little but didn't back down, meeting his look. "Not a bodyguard—just an extra pair of eyes. I can spot trouble before it's on us." She tapped near her temple lightly. "Things move quick out here. Up to you."
He rubbed his jaw, thinking it over. She had a point—those Hyuga eyes were unreal, catching stuff he'd never see coming. He wasn't built for real fights; his tricks only got him so far against knives or jutsu. Hinata... Might be an Jonin looking at her age she sohuld be around 25. Having her along might save his ass, even if it threw a wrench in things.
"Alright," he said, nodding toward the path. "Lets go togather."
Hinata smiled and nodded.
///
(〃￣︶￣)人(￣︶￣〃)
Hinata
Hehehe