Souta sat slouched in a rickety chair beside Hinata's bed, one hand idly rubbing his shoulder where her teeth had left a faint, throbbing mark. His damp cloak lay in a heap by the door, water pooling beneath it, and the flickering lantern cast jagged shadows across his face.
Hinata lay propped against the wall, the threadbare blanket pulled tight around her shoulders, her pale eyes fixed on a crack in the ceiling. Her face was still flushed from crying—something she'd sworn she'd never done before. She didn't look at him, but her lips twitched, a shaky breath escaping as she murmured, "I didn't mean to bite you… much."
Souta chuckled, leaning back in the chair, the wood creaking under his weight. "Could've fooled me. You've got a hell of a grip for someone half-dead." His tease was gentle, meant to coax her out of the shell she'd retreated into.
She finally met his gaze, her pale eyes catching the lantern's glow, and for a moment, she looked less like the stoic shinobi he'd come to know and more like a woman caught off guard by her own heart. "You're dumb," she said. "I don't… I don't cry. Ever. And you—" She stopped, pressing a hand to her chest as if to steady the ache there.
"Made you," he finished for her, his grin softening. "Yeah, I'm a bastard like that. But you're still here, so I can't be all bad." He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, his eyes searching hers. "You scared me, you know. Thought I'd pushed you too far."
Her brows furrowed, a flicker of guilt crossing her face. "I didn't want you to—" She cut herself off, shaking her head. "You wouldn't listen. Pinning me down like that… I panicked." Her hand drifted to her bandaged arm, the dark lines of poison still faintly visible beneath the cloth.
Souta's grin faded, his voice dropping low. "I wasn't gonna let you die, Hinata. Not on my watch. Even if you hate me for it."
She didn't reply, just watched him, her expression softening into something he couldn't quite name—gratitude, maybe, or trust. Until a sharp rap at the door jolted them both.
Souta was on his feet in an instant, hand hovering near the knife at his hip as he crossed the room. He cracked the door open, rain spitting inside, and found a scruffy kid standing there—maybe twelve, soaked to the bone, his dark hair plastered to his face. The boy shivered, thrusting a crumpled note at Souta with a nervous stammer. "F-from Goro. Said it's urgent. Midnight, docks. Bring coin."
Souta snatched the note, unfolding it quick. Scrawled in jagged ink: Found a lead on viper blood. Meet me at the docks, midnight. Don't be late. He glanced at the kid, who was already backing away, then shut the door with a grunt. "Old bastard's got timing, I'll give him that."
Hinata shifted, pushing herself up despite the tremor in her arms. "What's it say?"
"Goro's got a line on cave viper blood," Souta said, turning to her, the note still in hand. "Wants us at the docks tonight. Sounds like a long shot, but…" He trailed off, seeing the stubborn glint in her eyes as she swung her legs over the bed's edge.
"I'm coming," she said, her tone brooking no argument. "My Byakugan can spot a trap. You'll need me."
"You can barely stand," he shot back, stepping closer, but the fight in her gaze stopped him cold. He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Fine. But you stay back if it goes south. Promise me that."
Next Morning
The docks of Kawa Crossing glistened under the rain, a slick maze of crates and tethered boats swaying in the choppy river.
Souta and Hinata arrived. Souta led, his cloak pulled tight against the downpour, while Hinata trailed behind, her hood shadowing her pale eyes as they pulsed faintly with the Byakugan.
Goro waited near a stack of barrels, his wiry frame hunched against the wind. Beside him stood a stranger—a lean, twitchy smuggler with a scar curling down his cheek, his hand resting on a crate like it was a prize. Souta sized him up, his gut twisting. "This the guy?" he asked Goro, voice low.
"Yeah," Goro rasped, spitting into the mud. "Says he's got the blood. Show him, Kaji."
The smuggler—Kaji—grinned, teeth yellowed and sharp, and pried the crate open with a knife. Inside, nestled in straw, sat a small vial of dark, viscous liquid. "Cave viper blood," he said, his voice oily. "Rare as hell. 500 ryo."
Souta's eyes narrowed. "We said twenty."
"Price went up," Kaji sneered, tapping the vial. "Supply's tight. Take it or leave it."
Souta's hand twitched toward his knife, but before he could retort, Kaji's blade flashed, aimed at his throat. Souta dodged, the steel grazing his cloak, and chaos erupted. From the shadows, Hinata moved—slow, unsteady, but precise—her palm striking Kaji's chest with a weakened Gentle Fist blow. The smuggler crumpled, gasping, but the effort buckled Hinata's knees, her vision swimming as the poison flared hot in her veins.
"Damn it," Souta muttered, catching her as she swayed. Goro cursed, snatching the vial from the crate and shoving it into Souta's hands. "Take it," he growled. "You're more trouble than you're worth. I ain't taking your coin—don't want Hyuga blood on my conscience."
Souta didn't argue, just nodded, hauling Hinata back toward the inn.
Back at Riverside Haven, the room was a cocoon of warmth against the storm Outside. Goro hunched over the table, mixing the vial's contents into a murky paste under Souta's sharp gaze. Hinata sat on the bed, her arm bared, watching as Goro smeared the antidote over the wound. The dark lines faded, retreating like shadows at dawn, and her breathing eased, color creeping back into her cheeks.
"It's working," Souta said, relief flooding his voice. "She's gonna be okay?"
"For now," Goro grunted, wiping his hands on a rag. "Slows it down—stronger than shadowroot. But the root's deep. Needs a master healer, maybe a jutsu, to kill it for good." He stood, glaring at them both. "You're on your own now. Don't come back."
He left without another word, the door slamming behind him. Souta sank into the chair, exhaling hard, and looked at Hinata. She met his gaze, her hand brushing his.
Souta tilted his head, a grin tugging at his lips as he broke the silence. "Sooo, Hinata… you feeling good?"
She nodded, slow and deliberate, flexing her fingers as if testing their strength. "Yes," she murmured, her voice steadier than it had been in days. The dark lines on her arm had faded, and though her breaths still carried a slight rasp.
"Good," he said, leaning forward, elbows on his knees.
"But why did old guy suddenly help us?" she asked instead, her tone shifting to curiosity. "Didn't he refuse to get involved before?"
Souta shrugged, scratching the back of his neck. "Guess the old bastard's got a conscience after all. Or maybe he figured you'd haunt him with those creepy eyes if he let you die." He chuckled, leaning back again, the chair groaning under him. "Either way, he came through. That's what matters."