The life of a newly-minted Genin, Hinata quickly discovered, was not a glamorous whirlwind of high-stakes battles and heroic deeds. It was a monotonous, soul-crushing, unending grind of trivial tasks that made the long hours of academy training feel like a thrilling adventure by comparison. It was, in a word, D-Ranks.
Their first official mission as Team 8 was not to guard a feudal lord or infiltrate an enemy stronghold. It was to find Tora, the Fire Daimyo's wife's notoriously infuriating cat.
The plump, imperious woman stood with her hands on her hips, glaring down at the three of them as if they were something she'd found on the bottom of her shoe. "Tora is a creature of exquisite breeding and delicate sensibilities," she sniffed, fanning herself dramatically. "He simply must be found before his nerves are frayed beyond repair! And do be gentle! His fur is a national treasure!"
...A national treasure? We should skin it and wear its pelt as a trophy... Venom's voice was a low grumble of bored disgust in her mind. ...Or better yet, let us eat the fat woman. She looks soft and full of delicious lipids. A far better use of our time...
"We won't fail, ma'am!" Kiba declared, striking a pose that was meant to be reassuringly confident. "My nose is the best in Konoha! We'll find your furball in no time!"
He was wrong. For three agonizing hours, they chased the demon cat across the rooftops of Konoha. Kiba followed scent trails that led them in circles. Shino's kikaichu bugs were systematically evaded by the creature's cunning. Tora was a flash of ginger fur and snarling fury, a tiny, four-legged master of evasion and psychological warfare. He'd pop out from behind a chimney to hiss at them, then vanish the moment they got close, his mocking meow echoing from a block away.
Hinata, meanwhile, was fighting a war on two fronts. The first was against her own growing frustration. The second was against the voice in her head, which was offering an endless stream of unhelpful and increasingly violent suggestions.
...It is hiding in that water barrel. We can hear its tiny, pathetic heart beating. Let us simply smash the barrel. The resulting explosion of water and wood and cat would be... amusing...
"No," Hinata muttered under her breath, earning her a strange look from Kurenai, who was observing from a distance with an expression of weary amusement.
Finally, Hinata couldn't take it anymore. While Kiba was arguing with a trash can he swore smelled of Tora, Hinata closed her eyes, shutting out the physical world and focusing on the symphony of sensation the symbiote provided. She pushed past the cacophony of the village—the heartbeats, the conversations, the rustle of leaves—and focused, hunting for one specific, frantic pulse.
There. Two rooftops over, hiding inside a broken television antenna. Its pulse was a fast, arrogant thump-thump-thump.
"I've got him," she said, her voice flat.
Before Kiba or Shino could react, she was moving. She didn't consciously think about it; she just flowed. She took a single step, pushed off the roof tiles with a surge of symbiote-enhanced strength, and landed silently on the adjacent rooftop. Another leap, this one longer, more powerful, carried her across the street. She moved with the silent, predatory grace of the creature she now shared a body with.
She reached into the antenna, her hand moving in a blur, and plucked the squirming, hissing ball of fury out of its hiding spot. Tora twisted, its claws extended, ready to shred her arm.
...It resists. Admirable. Let us bite its head off. A small snack. A reward for our efforts...
Instead of violence, Hinata simply held the cat. A wave of her chakra, now intertwined with Venom's cold, dominant energy, washed over the creature. It wasn't a Genjutsu, not truly. It was a projection of pure, predatory authority. We are the alpha here. You are the prey. Be still.
Tora froze mid-snarl. Its claws retracted. It looked up at Hinata with wide, terrified eyes, then, to everyone's astonishment, it began to purr, rubbing its head against her hand.
Hinata walked back to her team, holding the placid cat like a loaf of bread. Kiba's jaw was on the floor. "How... how did you do that? He never does that!"
"He... must have been tired," Hinata mumbled, avoiding his eyes. She could feel Venom's smug satisfaction warming her blood.
...The lesser predator submits. This is the natural order. The dog-boy should be taking notes...
Their next week was a blur of similar indignities. They pulled weeds for a grumpy farmer, a task made excruciating by Hinata's enhanced strength. She'd reach for a dandelion and accidentally rip out an entire row of prize-winning carrots, earning a string of curses from the farmer and a sigh from Kurenai.
...This is an insult to our abilities. We are a hunter, an apex predator. Not a gardener. Burn the entire field. Burn the farmer's hut. Let us watch the flames purify this pathetic patch of dirt...
Then came dog-walking for the Inuzuka clan's reserve kennels while their usual handlers were on a mission. The ninken were huge, powerful beasts, more wolf than dog, and they were a barely controlled chaos for Kiba. But when the leashes were passed to Hinata, the entire pack fell silent. They sat, their ears flattened, their tails giving hesitant, submissive thumps against the ground. They looked at her with a deep, instinctual respect that bordered on fear. Kiba was flabbergasted.
The D-Rank missions dragged on. Weeding, painting fences, babysitting—each task was a new form of torture for the cosmic predator trapped within Hinata. Venom's commentary became a constant, simmering litany of homicidal boredom. But the true battle began after the missions were over, when the gnawing, insatiable hunger set in. It wasn't just a need for calories; it was a physical demand from the symbiote, a toll extracted for its services. Her metabolism had become a raging furnace, and keeping it fueled was a full-time job.
It started at the team lunches. After a grueling day of chasing another runaway pet, Kurenai would treat them all to Yakiniku Q. Kiba, known for his prodigious appetite, would order plate after plate of ribs and brisket, Akamaru snapping up fallen scraps. But Hinata... Hinata ate with a quiet, terrifying efficiency that left her teammates stunned.
She'd sit, her back ramrod straight, and methodically work her way through staggering quantities of food. Four plates of kalbi. Three of pork belly. Two entire squids. It all vanished into her small frame as if into a pocket dimension.
...Yes! The searing of flesh releases the most exquisite aromas! This bovine muscle is dense, rich with the proteins we require to reinforce your pathetic bone structure... Venom would purr as she chewed. ...This swine flesh is delightfully fatty. We will use this to enhance your... strategic reserves... When she tried the grilled squid, it was less impressed. ...Rubbery. A disappointing texture. It lacks the satisfying CRUNCH of bone...
Kiba would just stare, a piece of meat dangling forgotten from his chopsticks. "Whoa, Hinata... where do you put it all?" he'd ask, his jaw slack.
Hinata would flush, a deep crimson that clashed with her lavender jacket. "I... I've been training hard," she'd mumble, which wasn't a lie. Every night, the symbiote put her body through a grueling, involuntary workout as she slept, knitting new muscle fibers, reinforcing her skeleton, and making its... improvements.
Shino would observe her silently from behind his dark glasses, a single kikaichu bug sometimes crawling onto his finger as if to get a better look. "Your caloric intake is statistically anomalous for a person of your size and weight," he once stated, his tone purely analytical. "It would suggest a highly accelerated metabolism, perhaps a side-effect of a new jutsu you are developing." He was so close to the truth it sent a chill down her spine.
The clan compound became a nightly hunting ground. After her family was asleep, she would slip into the kitchen, a ghost in her own home, and consume everything she could find that wasn't nailed down. Leftover fish, entire pots of rice, pickled vegetables she didn't even like but ate anyway for the raw biomass. Her palate was becoming secondary to the symbiote's relentless demands.
...More starch. More filler. This is the food of prey... Venom would complain as she wolfed down rice. ...But it is fuel. We will convert it to power. And chocolate. Have they restocked the chocolate yet? Their lack of respect for the primary food group is insulting...
The changes to her body were becoming impossible to ignore. A month into her Genin career, she was undeniably taller, a fact confirmed by a pencil mark on her doorframe she'd used to track her height since she was a child. She'd shot up nearly two inches. Her old pajamas were now too short, ending awkwardly at her shins.
And then there were the other... developments. Her mirror became both a source of horrified fascination and a secret, guilty pride. The understated curves she'd had before were now... stated. Loudly. Her chest, once a source of quiet insecurity, had blossomed. Her training jacket, once loose and comfortable, was now strained across her bust, the zipper refusing to close the last few inches. She had to leave it open, the snug fit making her feel simultaneously powerful and exposed.
...See? Improvements... Venom's voice was smug, like an artist admiring its work. ...We have improved the aerodynamics, as promised. You are now more... visually intimidating. An effective psychological tool against the males of your species. And we are not finished...
Her hips had widened, her thighs thickening with dense, new muscle. Her dark blue shinobi pants, which used to be loose, were now snug, hugging curves she hadn't possessed a month ago. She looked... strong. Healthy. Womanly. She looked like a stranger.
Other people were noticing. During a sparring session, Kiba launched a typically ferocious assault, but his movements, which should have overwhelmed her, seemed telegraphed. Hinata, moving with a newfound, startling economy of motion, sidestepped his lunge. Her hand came up, not to strike, but to gently redirect him, her palm connecting with his shoulder. The force she applied, meant to be a simple push, sent the much larger boy stumbling sideways, his balance completely broken. He tripped over his own feet and landed in an undignified heap. He looked up at her, not with anger, but with stunned disbelief.
"Whoa," was all he could manage, his usual bravado momentarily gone. "Where'd that come from?"
Hinata froze, her hand still raised, equally surprised by the ease with which she'd handled him. The ground didn't swallow her, but a dark corner of her mind, the part that was Venom, was thoroughly amused.
...He is off-balance. His confidence is shaken. Good. We can exploit this...
Even Sakura, passing her in the marketplace, did a double-take. "Hinata," she'd said, her eyes sweeping over Hinata's new figure with a look that was equal parts surprise and envy. "You've... been training hard. It shows." The comment was casual, but it made Hinata's skin prickle with a familiar, if less intense, embarrassment. She was a work in progress, a living sculpture being molded by an alien hand, and the whole world was watching.
The worst part was the appetite never truly went away. Walking through the village was an exercise in torment. The smells from food carts—takoyaki, dango, sweet crepes—were siren songs. More often than not, she would give in, spending her mission pay on snacks that only served to stoke the furnace inside her.
...These fried octopus balls are acceptable... Venom would comment as she ate takoyaki. ...The sweetness of these bean-paste skewers, however, is an insult to chocolate. Find us something better...
Her life had become a cycle of endless chores, endless hunger, and endless, humiliating growth. She was stronger than she had ever been, faster, more perceptive. But she also felt like a freak, her own body a foreign country with shifting borders. The shy, timid girl was still inside, but she was trapped, a terrified passenger in a high-performance vehicle she couldn't control, driven by a monster with a sweet tooth and a god complex.
Just as Hinata felt she was about to break under the strain of it all, Kurenai gathered them at the tail end of another tedious day of fence-painting. "Alright, Team 8," she said, a rare, genuine smile on her face. "I've just come from the Hokage's office. Your performance on the D-Ranks has been... efficient." She glanced at Hinata. "Very efficient. Lord Third has decided you're ready for something more. Pack your bags. We have a C-Rank mission."
The words were like a lifeline. A real mission. A chance to leave the village, to test her new abilities, to be something more than just a girl with a monstrous appetite. For the first time in weeks, the hunger pang in her stomach was overshadowed by a different feeling.
Excitement.
And in the back of her mind, Venom stirred, its own dark version of excitement echoing hers.
...A new hunting ground... Excellent...
The air at the main gate the next morning was crisp and cool, alive with the bustle of travelers and merchants preparing for the day's journey. Hinata stood with her teammates, a freshly packed scroll slung across her back, feeling a nervous tremor in her stomach that, for once, wasn't hunger. This was it. Her first time leaving the village on official business. The massive wooden gates of Konoha, a symbol of home and security her entire life, now represented a threshold into the unknown.
She'd had to pack strategically. Her standard mission gear was supplemented by a large stash of high-energy food bars and, of course, two large boxes of premium chocolates she'd bought with her own money. She couldn't risk running out of fuel, not out in the wilderness.
...A wise precaution. Our needs must be prioritized. These fragile humans and their 'mission' are secondary to our continued survival and enhancement... Venom commented, its presence a familiar weight in her mind.
Kiba was practically vibrating with excitement, boasting to Akamaru about the bandits they would fight and the amazing treasures they would find. Shino was, as usual, a statue of quiet observation, though Hinata could see his kikaichu bugs shifting restlessly under the collar of his coat, eager to explore a new environment.
Their charge for this mission was the "Lucky Mole Caravan," a train of three sturdy-looking wagons pulled by lumbering oxen and piled high with crates of textiles, spices, and fine pottery. The crew consisted of a handful of weathered-looking merchants and guards, their faces tanned and their eyes sharp. The leader of the caravan, a gruff, barrel-chested man named Ryota with a formidable mustache and a kind glint in his eye, greeted Kurenai with a respectful bow.
"Sensei Kurenai," he rumbled, his voice like grinding stones. "Good to have you with us again. We're headed for Tanzaku Town, a three-day journey if the roads are clear. We'll be handing off our goods there to another merchant group, and they'll have their own shinobi escort for the next leg. Your team's job is simple: get us and our cargo to Tanzaku in one piece."
Kurenai nodded, her expression all business. She turned to her Genin. "Alright, listen up. This is a standard escort mission. We'll be using a rotating diamond formation. I'll take the lead. Kiba, you'll be on our left flank; your nose will be our first warning against ambushes from that direction. Shino, you take the right flank; your insects will give us coverage in the forests. Hinata," she met Hinata's eyes, "you'll take the rear. Your Byakugan gives us a 360-degree view, making you the perfect lookout for anyone trying to sneak up behind us."
She unrolled a map, pointing to their route. "The path is straightforward, but it passes through several narrow gorges and dense forests, which are ideal ambush points for bandits. We don't expect trouble from other shinobi—this is a C-Rank, after all—but never let your guard down. Stay alert. Communicate. And remember your training."
As Kurenai spoke, laying out the patrol rotations, the designated rally points in case of attack, the hand signals for silent communication, and the profiles of known bandit groups operating in the region, a strange thing happened in Hinata's mind. Normally, such a deluge of information would have overwhelmed her. She would have been frantically trying to memorize every detail, her anxiety mounting with each new instruction. But now... it was different.
It was as if her mind had split into two. One part, her own consciousness, listened to Kurenai, nodding and absorbing the information. The other part, the cold, efficient presence of Venom, was simultaneously processing the data, sorting it, filing it away with terrifying clarity. The map wasn't just a drawing; it was a three-dimensional landscape in her head. The patrol rotations weren't just a schedule; they were a flowing, logical sequence of actions. Kurenai's words weren't just a lecture; they were tactical data being uploaded directly into a high-capacity drive.
...Predictable ambush points. Inefficient patrol vectors. The 'bandits' are likely disorganized scavengers, hardly worthy of being called predators... Venom analyzed, its thoughts a cool undercurrent to Hinata's own focus. ...We can handle this. This is trivial. A mere field exercise...
"Understood?" Kurenai asked, her gaze sweeping over them.
"Crystal!" Kiba barked.
"Affirmative," Shino droned.
"Yes, Kurenai-sensei," Hinata said, her voice clear and steady, the lack of her usual stutter surprising even herself.
As the caravan lurched into motion, creaking through the great gates and onto the open road, the team fell into their assigned positions. The world outside Konoha's walls was vast and vibrant. Hinata took her place at the rear, walking a short distance behind the last wagon. She activated her Byakugan, the familiar network of chakra veins overlaying the world around her, and began her watch.
An hour into the journey, one of the older caravan guards, a wiry man with a face like a dried apple named Kenji, fell into step beside her. He eyed her pale, veined eyes with curiosity rather than fear.
"First time out on the road, little Hyuuga?" he asked, his voice raspy.
Hinata gave a slight nod, not letting her gaze waver from the surrounding trees. "Yes, it is."
"Thought so," he grunted, shifting a waterskin on his hip. "Your sensei gives you the book knowledge, yeah? Maps, formations... but the road has its own lessons. See those trees over there?" He gestured with his chin towards a dense copse. "The birds are quiet. Too quiet for this time of day. Means something's in there that shouldn't be. Could be a fox. Could be a bandit scout. Always listen to the birds, kid. They're the best lookouts you'll ever have, and they work for free."
It was simple, practical knowledge, the kind not found in any academy textbook. And as he spoke, Hinata found herself not just listening, but cross-referencing. Her enhanced hearing, courtesy of Venom, focused on the grove of trees. Kenji was right. There was an unnatural silence. She could hear the scuttling of beetles on the bark, the breathing of a field mouse in its burrow, but no birdsong. At the same time, her Byakugan scanned the area, finding no hostile chakra signatures. It was just a fox, exactly as he'd suggested, its small life force a dim flicker in her vision.
The two streams of information—the old guard's practical wisdom and her own super-sensory data—merged seamlessly in her mind. It was effortless. The ease with which she could process it all, analyze it, and draw a conclusion was staggering.
She was more than just Hinata Hyuuga with a weird, hungry parasite. She was a living, breathing sensory hub, a fusion of Hyuuga insight and alien instinct. The road ahead was long and potentially dangerous, but for the first time, looking out at the vast, wild world beyond her village, Hinata didn't feel fear. She felt a deep, thrumming, dangerous sense of anticipation. Whatever was out there, they would be ready. We would be ready.
Two days passed on the road, falling into a rhythm that was equal parts monotonous and tense. The slow, creaking pace of the oxen-drawn wagons was a stark contrast to the hyper-awareness humming just beneath Hinata's skin. Kiba tracked scents on the wind, Shino monitored the constant whisper of his insects, and Hinata kept her Byakugan active for long stretches, the world a constant, shimmering tapestry of chakra both mundane and wild. The caravan guards, initially wary of the young shinobi, had warmed to them, sharing stories of past journeys and offering practical advice that Kurenai made sure her team absorbed.
The caravan had stopped for a midday meal in a wide, grassy clearing, flanked on one side by a steep, rocky ridge and on the other by dense forest. The merchants were watering the oxen, their voices a low murmur. Kiba was in a heated but friendly argument with Ryota over the best way to cook a rabbit, while Shino sat on a log, allowing a rare breed of forest beetle to crawl onto his finger. Hinata sat a little way apart, methodically working her way through a large rice ball, trying to ignore the symbiote's complaints about the lack of protein.
...More tasteless starch. We are a finely tuned engine of destruction, and she feeds us sawdust...
It was then that she felt it. At first, it wasn't a sight or a sound, but a subtle shift in the background noise of the world. A change in the rhythm. Her head snapped up, her eyes scanning the distant ridge. To the naked eye, there was nothing. But to her, the clearing was suddenly a bubble of calm in a sea of growing disturbance. The birdsong in the forest had stopped. The faint chakra signatures of distant animals were all moving away from their position. Something was wrong.
"Kurenai-sensei," she said, her voice low and urgent, cutting through Kiba's argument. She stood up, her eyes still locked on the ridge miles away.
Kurenai was instantly alert, her casual posture dissolving into razor-sharp focus. "What is it, Hinata?"
"Movement," Hinata said, activating her Byakugan fully. The world snapped into its stark, black-and-white detail, her vision telescoping out, piercing through miles of forest and rock. "A large group. At least thirty of them. They're using the ridge and the woods to surround us. Trying to be quiet, but they're clumsy. They're still a long way off, but they're setting up an ambush."
Kiba and Shino were on their feet, kunai in hand. The caravan crew froze, their hands moving to the hilts of their own blades.
Kurenai walked to Hinata's side, her gaze calm as she surveyed the same seemingly empty landscape. "Good, Hinata. Your senses are sharp." There was no surprise in her voice, only approval. "I've been aware of their presence for the last ten minutes. I was waiting to see which one of you would notice first. Consider this your next lesson: a predator is at its most vulnerable when it believes it has cornered its prey. This is our chance to turn the tables."
She turned to her team. "They want to ambush us. We will ambush their ambush. I'm going to go out there and... disorganize them. Your orders are to stay here. Guard the wagons and the merchants. Do not engage unless you are directly attacked. Is that understood? Protecting the client is your primary objective."
"But sensei!" Kiba protested. "We can fight!"
"I have no doubt," Kurenai said, a dangerous glint in her red eyes. "But today, your fight is here. This is my part of the job." She formed a single hand seal, and her body dissolved into a swirl of crimson petals that scattered on the wind, vanishing into the trees without a sound.
For a long moment, there was silence. Then, a faint cry came from the distance, followed by more shouts of confusion and fear. Kurenai was at work.
Just as Ryota began barking orders to his men to form a defensive circle around the wagons, a new threat emerged. A smaller group of bandits—ten of them—burst from the nearby treeline, charging towards the caravan with bloodthirsty yells. They must have been a splinter group, too far forward to be caught in Kurenai's initial strike.
"They slipped past her!" Kiba snarled. "Alright, Team 8, let's show them what we've got! Fang Over Fang!" He and Akamaru became a whirling vortex of claws and teeth, crashing headlong into the first three bandits.
Shino moved with quiet efficiency, thrusting his hands forward. A thick cloud of his kikaichu bugs swarmed from his sleeves, intercepting another three bandits, who screamed as the chakra-eating insects enveloped them.
The remaining four charged straight for the rear, straight for Hinata. In their eyes, she was the obvious weak link—the quiet girl standing guard. Their mistake.
As they bore down on her, the world seemed to slow to a crawl. The lead bandit, a big brute with a scarred face and a rusty axe, raised his weapon, his mouth open in a silent roar. To Hinata's enhanced senses, his lunge was ponderous, his footwork sloppy, his trajectory laughably predictable. The air moving around him, the scent of his sweat, the frantic thumping of his heart—it was all a flood of data that she processed in an instant.
...Weak. Slow. Pathetic... Venom sneered in her mind. ...He telegraphs his every move. Let us break him...
Hinata flowed into the opening stance of the Gentle Fist, intending to do just that. A simple, precise tap to the tenketsu point in his shoulder should disable his arm, neutralizing him without serious injury. She moved, her chakra—that churning mix of blue and silver—gathering in her palm.
Her hand shot out, striking his shoulder exactly where she intended. But she had underestimated. She had underestimated the density of her new muscles. She had underestimated the explosive power the symbiote had granted her. She had underestimated the sheer, brutal bio-mechanics of their union.
It wasn't a tap. It was a demolition.
There was an audible sound, a wet, sickening CRACK-UNCH that echoed in the sudden silence of her slowed perception. It was the sound of his clavicle, scapula, and humerus shattering simultaneously. But the force didn't stop there. It traveled through his body, a devastating shockwave that ruptured organs and snapped his spine. The bandit's eyes went wide with a momentary, final spark of shocked agony before they glazed over. His body, propelled by the force of the blow, was thrown backward ten feet, landing in a crumpled, lifeless heap.
Hinata froze, her hand still outstretched, her pale eyes wide with horror at what she had just done. The man wasn't disabled. He was... obliterated. The front of his torso was caved in. She had meant to stop him, not tear him apart.
Her shock lasted only a microsecond. The next bandit was already on her, swinging a crude sword at her head. Instinct, pure and predatory, took over. She brought her forearm up to block, another move she had practiced a thousand times. The bandit's sword, instead of being deflected, shattered on impact with her symbiote-reinforced bones. The force of the block transferred up his arm, shattering his wrist and elbow.
He howled in pain, stumbling back. Hinata's body followed, moving with a grace she didn't know she possessed. She struck again, a simple two-fingered jab aimed at his eyes, a standard Hyuuga disabling technique. But her fingers weren't just fingers anymore. They were like steel spikes. They punched through his skull with a gruesome squelch. He dropped to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut, utterly still.
The final two bandits skidded to a halt, their bloodthirsty grins replaced with masks of stark terror, their eyes locked on the placid-faced girl and the carnage she had wrought in seconds. One of them, his nerve breaking completely, turned to flee. He didn't get two steps.
...None escape...
A slick, black tendril, thin as a whip, shot from Hinata's back. She wasn't even aware she had done it. The tendril wrapped around the fleeing man's ankle, yanking him off his feet. It dragged him back towards her, his fingers clawing uselessly at the dirt. The last bandit stood frozen, paralyzed by fear. Hinata simply walked towards him, her face a blank canvas of shock. She raised a hand, and he flinched, whimpering. She touched his forehead, and he collapsed, unconscious before he hit the ground, his mind shattered by a jolt of pure, terrifying alien bio-energy.
She stood over them, panting, the black tendril retracting back into her body as if it had never been. The clearing was suddenly quiet again, save for the buzzing of Shino's returning insects and Kiba's triumphant laughter as he tied up the last of his groaning opponents. The whole fight had lasted less than a minute.
Hinata looked down at her hands. They were trembling. They looked like her hands. But they were also the weapons that had just effortlessly, brutally, and fatally destroyed two human beings. The sheer, horrifying scale of the power she now wielded crashed down on her. The girl who used to cry after practice because a training dummy fell over too hard had just killed with an ease that sickened her to her very soul.
"Hinata! Wow!" Kiba's voice cut through her horrified trance. He and Shino were walking towards her, their own battles won. Kiba's eyes were wide with awe as he looked at the still bodies. "You took out four of 'em? All by yourself? I knew you were strong, but... damn."
Shino said nothing, but his gaze was intense, analytical, sweeping from the dead bandits to Hinata's trembling form. He saw not just the result, but the impossible, devastating efficiency of it all. He saw something that was not just skill, but something... other.
Kurenai chose that moment to reappear, landing silently in the center of the clearing. She took in the scene at a glance—Kiba's captured bandits, Shino's pacified ones, the unconscious man at Hinata's feet, and the two broken, very dead bodies. Her professional calm finally cracked, her eyes widening slightly as she looked from the mangled corpses to her quietest, most unassuming student.
Hinata looked up, meeting her sensei's shocked gaze, her own lilac eyes swimming with a mixture of terror, confusion, and a dawning, terrifying self-awareness. What had she become?
The silence in the clearing was heavy, broken only by the low groans of Kiba's captives and the rustle of the wind. The scent of blood and death hung in the air. Kurenai's gaze shifted from the two mangled bodies back to Hinata, her professional mask firmly back in place, though a flicker of profound concern remained in her red eyes. She had seen death, had dealt it herself countless times, but she had never seen a Genin, let alone a Hyuuga, apply such devastating, overwhelming force so... accidentally.
"Shino," Kurenai said, her voice cutting through the tension, calm and authoritative. "Secure the unconscious one. Kiba, make sure yours are properly bound. We'll leave them for the next ANBU patrol; I'll send a messenger crow with the coordinates. The client is our priority."
Her orders broke the spell. Kiba, looking slightly subdued after his initial excitement, got to work, expertly tying up his prisoners. Shino's insects crawled over the last bandit, cocooning him in a thick, silken web that immobilized him completely. The caravan crew, who had watched the entire battle with wide, terrified eyes, began to stir, their gazes shifting nervously towards Hinata, who still stood frozen, staring at her hands.
...Excellent work... Venom's voice was a purr of deep, visceral satisfaction in her mind. It felt like praise from a predator for a successful kill, a feeling so alien and perverse it made her stomach churn. ...Their frail bodies offered such little resistance. A satisfying expenditure of energy. We felt their bones snap. We tasted their fear. It was... delicious...
"Hinata." Kurenai's voice was soft as she approached, stepping between Hinata and the view of the bodies. She placed a gentle hand on her student's shoulder. "Breathe. Look at me."
Hinata's gaze lifted, her wide, pale eyes filled with a horror that was all her own. "Sensei... I... I didn't mean to... I just wanted to stop them..."
"I know," Kurenai said, her voice full of a sudden, surprising gentleness. "The first time is always the hardest. No one is ever truly prepared for it. It's a line that, once crossed, changes you forever. It's alright to be shaken. It's normal."
Kurenai expected tears. She expected a breakdown. It's what she had been trained to handle, the psychological fallout of a young shinobi's first kill. But as she watched, something strange happened. The trembling in Hinata's hands lessened. The look of pure horror in her eyes began to fade, replaced by a clouded, disturbingly calm focus. The symbiote, sensing its host's distress, was actively working to counteract it, flooding her system with a wave of cold, logical detachment.
...Why does she weep? We were attacked. We defended ourselves. We eliminated the threat. This is the law of nature. The strong survive. The weak perish. Their lives were forfeit the moment they chose to hunt us. Their deaths are a testament to our superiority. There is no shame in this. There is only... victory...
Venom's thoughts weren't just thoughts; they were a chemical process. The crushing guilt, the nausea, the fear—it was all being dampened, smoothed over, reframed not as a trauma, but as a successful field test. Hinata took a deep, shuddering breath, and when she exhaled, much of the panic went with it. "I… I understand, sensei." The words were hers, but the unnerving calm behind them felt foreign. "They were a threat to the mission. To the client. I… neutralized them."
Kurenai's hand slowly fell from her shoulder. Kiba and Shino, finished with their tasks, had come closer, and they both stared. Her reaction was not normal. She wasn't celebrating like Kiba might, or taking it in stride like Shino could. She was processing it, compartmentalizing a horrifying trauma with an efficiency that was more unsettling than any emotional outburst would have been.
"Right," Kurenai said slowly, searching her student's face for any sign of deception or dissociation. "Well. Good. Let's get the caravan moving."
The rest of the journey to Tanzaku Town was a tense, quiet affair. They reached the bustling trade hub by nightfall of the next day, the handover of the caravan handled with brisk efficiency. Their mission was complete. Ryota, the caravan master, paid Kurenai their fee with a hefty bonus, his gratitude mixed with a healthy dose of fear as he gave Hinata a wide berth.
The moment Kurenai dismissed them for the evening, the adrenaline and the symbiote's artificial calm finally wore off, and the hunger returned with a vengeance. It was a physical and psychic backlash from the fight, an abyss of caloric debt that demanded immediate repayment. Hinata, driven by a need that overshadowed all else, plunged into the noisy, lantern-lit streets of Tanzaku Town.
It was a fortress of food. Stalls selling skewers of grilled meat, steaming bowls of noodles, sweet, sticky dango, and savory pancakes lined the streets. And Hinata, for the first time, didn't hold back. She moved from stall to stall, a quiet, determined specter of appetite, devouring everything she could get her hands on.
...YES! We require this! The fatty boar meat will reinforce the ligaments! The carbohydrates in these noodles will replenish our energy stores! The sugar in these dumplings... ah, the glorious sugar! We will use it to increase the efficiency of your neural pathways! You will think faster, react faster! We are not just eating, little one. We are... upgrading...
Kiba and Shino found her an hour later, sitting on a bench surrounded by a small mountain of empty skewers, bowls, and wrappers. She was currently inhaling a giant, chocolate-covered crepe with a look of intense focus on her face.
Kiba just stared, his mind unable to reconcile the shy, quiet girl he thought he knew with the deadly warrior and bottomless pit he'd seen over the past few days. "Are you… ever full?" he asked, completely bewildered.
Hinata barely seemed to hear him, her senses consumed by the bliss of satisfying the gnawing void inside her. "The fight… it took a lot of energy," she mumbled around a mouthful of crepe.
And in her mind, the voice purred, already planning for the future. ...The chest is coming along nicely, but the gluteal muscles are still underdeveloped. We require more protein. And we must enhance the adrenal glands. For a more potent combat response...
The journey back was faster, unburdened by the slow caravan. They ran, a blur of motion through the forests of the Land of Fire. Hinata found she could keep pace easily, her newly upgraded body a marvel of efficiency and power. There was no fatigue, no shortness of breath, only a smooth, endless well of stamina.
Back in Konoha, they stood before the Third Hokage, Hiruzen Sarutobi, giving their report. Kurenai recounted the events of the mission with professional brevity, including the bandit ambush.
"There were... casualties among the attackers," Kurenai stated carefully, her eyes flicking towards Hinata. "Genin Hyuuga was forced to defend herself and the client, and her response was... decisive."
The old Hokage took a long drag from his pipe, his ancient eyes twinkling with a wisdom that seemed to see everything. He looked at Hinata, at her new, confident posture, the way her jacket strained at the shoulders, the utter lack of fear in her eyes. He had read the reports of her lackluster academy performance. He saw the girl standing before him now. And he knew that the two were not the same.
"A C-Rank mission with bloodshed is unfortunate, but not unheard of," he said, his voice calm. "You protected your client and your team. You fulfilled your mission. That is what matters. Well done, Team 8. You are dismissed."
As they walked out of the Hokage's office and into the afternoon sun, Hinata felt a profound sense of finality. The mission was over. She had faced her first real battle, taken her first lives, and survived. She was stronger, faster, and more dangerous than she had ever imagined possible. But as she walked beside her teammates, a new, unsettling thought took root in her mind.
She looked at her hands again. They didn't feel like her own. But they didn't feel like a monster's, either. They felt like weapons. And a weapon's only purpose is to be used.