When Hyuga Hiashi left, he took most of the cn members with him, including his personal bodyguard Hizashi, whose duty was to stay close by his side at all times.

  The Hyuga compound was suddenly quiet, the streets now filled mostly with the elderly, women, and children.

  Not long after Hiashi’s departure, Ayano came to visit.

  "Ayano-neesan?!" Makoto blinked in surprise, finding her standing at his door.

  She wore a snow-white dress that made her look softer than usual, with a more youthful grace. Her long hair was still neatly done up, highlighting her refined and delicate beauty.

  "Y-You came all the way here?"

  "What, am I not welcome?" Ayano smiled warmly, holding a paper bag in her hand.

  "Of course you are! Please, come in!"

  Makoto stepped aside, letting her into his room.

  Ayano gnced around, half-expecting a messy teenage boy’s den, but was pleasantly surprised at how tidy everything was.

  Then a dog jumped out from who-knows-where and gave her a start.

  "This is Supi," Makoto expined quickly.

  "Your dog? He's adorable!" Ayano beamed, bending down to scoop up the fluffy white pup now circling her feet.

  "Right? Ayari-neesan likes him a lot too. Please, have a seat."

  Ayano sat on the couch, ughing lightly. "I didn’t know you were such a caring person."

  "It’s not that. I just get bored being alone," Makoto said with a sheepish grin.

  Setting the dog down beside her, Ayano handed him the paper bag. "I brought you some snacks."

  "I noticed you like eating junk food, but too much of that’s bad for you. So, I made you some pastries and treats myself."

  Makoto opened it and saw neatly arranged boxes of delicate, homemade goodies. The presentation was lovely—it was clear she'd put thought into it.

  "Ayano-neesan… this is… wow." His expression turned earnest. "You’re so good to me."

  Ayano just chuckled. "Silly boy. Since you call me 'neesan', it’s only right I act like one. Just keep them in the fridge and eat them whenever you want."

  Makoto nodded and went to put them away.

  Ayano ughed as she watched. "I didn’t say you had to store them immediately! Try one first, see if you like the taste."

  Makoto scratched his head bashfully. "Ayano-neesan made them, so they must be delicious. I want to savor them properly."

  She found his honesty and awkwardness oddly endearing. Then her eyes wandered to a book on his desk.

  "Studying?"

  "Just flipping through stuff when there's nothing else to do."

  It was a textbook on human acupuncture points—required reading before any Hyuga could seriously train in Gentle Fist. Every meridian, every pressure point had to be memorized.

  Ayano skimmed it and thought nothing of it.

  "Makoto, there’s something I need to tell you."

  "Yes, Ayano-neesan?"

  "It’s about your eyes."

  His expression immediately tensed. Ayano caught every detail of his reaction.

  "The hospital got back to us," she said slowly. "They discovered an issue with the Byakugan that was originally prepared for you."

  Makoto blinked, confused. "What does that mean?"

  "It means the transpnt will have to be reassessed. A new match needs to be selected. But with Hiashi at the frontlines, and no cn head present, the procedure can’t go forward right now. Do you understand?"

  Makoto stood in silence, his eyes darkening.

  "The war situation is tense, and Hiashi had no choice but to—"

  "I understand!" Makoto cut in abruptly.

  "I get it, Ayano-neesan. I’m just a Chuunin. There's no way Lord Hiashi should dey the war effort just for me."

  His words were heavy with disappointment, yet he forced himself to stay composed.

  Ayano gave a soft nod. "I’m gd you see it that way."

  She tried to reassure him. "Once the war is over, I’m sure Hiashi-sama will personally see to getting you a new Byakugan."

  Makoto’s eyes lit up again, hope flickering in his chest. "Yeah… I know he will."

  Ayano smiled inwardly. Kids really were easy to cheer up.

  They chatted a bit more about daily life before she stood to leave.

  "Take care, Ayano-neesan."

  She hadn’t gone far when she noticed a strand of white fur stuck to her sleeve—clearly from the dog. Her brows furrowed faintly, but she didn’t brush it off.

  Gncing back, she saw Makoto still standing at the door, watching her. She gave him a warm wave and smile.

  Back in his room, Makoto didn’t return to his book. Instead, he y down on his bed. Supi hopped up and curled up on his stomach.

  Step one was complete.

  Hiashi wouldn’t kill him—not now. If anything happened to him under these circumstances, all fingers would point to the main family.

  But freedom came with a spotlight. Without the mark of servitude, every move he made would be scrutinized.

  When war brought casualties, the Hyuga would inevitably lose someone—and with that, a new pair of Byakugan might return from the battlefield.

  Freedom… wouldn’t st forever.

  By the afternoon, the word had gotten out—Hiashi had left the vilge.

  Makoto got another visitor.

  This one came specifically for him.

  Standing at his door, led by a branch family member, was none other than Anko.

  She looked a little awkward as she spoke up. "So… wanna grab a bite? How about some barbecue?"

  Makoto looked at her calmly. "You're paying?"

  "Huh? Y-Yeah! It’s on me!"

  He stepped out and closed the door behind him. "Let’s skip the barbecue. I feel like having dango."

  "Eh?" Anko blinked, then broke into a smile.

  "You like dango too?"

  "Just feel like it today. Let’s go."

  The two of them left the compound. Anko led the way, ciming she knew the best dango shop in town.

  Along the way, though, she kept gncing at him out of the corner of her eye, as if something was on her mind.

  Makoto noticed right away—kids were terrible at hiding things. But he didn’t press her. Instead, he followed her into the shop.

  Once she saw the menu, Anko perked up and immediately started marking items with glee.

  After all, Orochimaru-sama was footing the bill.

  "You want anything?" she asked, looking up.

  "Just get what you like."

  "This shop’s tricolor dango is amazing! And the red bean one's good too. I’ll order both for you."

  Makoto rested his chin on his palm, watching her wrestle with the menu—clearly torn between ordering everything and not wanting to remove any favorites.

  "You eat this much sugar and you’re not afraid of getting fat?"

  "I won’t get fat."

  "You’ll turn into a dumpling and no one will marry you."

  Anko puffed up in outrage. "You can’t just say that to a girl!"

  Several ptes of dango were brought out, and Anko immediately forgot her irritation, dual-wielding skewers like a true glutton.

  With few customers around, the outdoor shop felt peaceful. Two kids eating sweets—an odd sight in wartime.

  There weren’t many shinobi walking the streets these days. Of them, perhaps only Makoto could afford such leisure.

  He absently toyed with his teacup, his gaze drifting down the street to nowhere in particur.

  "Makoto?"

  "We’re already on first-name terms?"

  "You can call me Anko, too."

  He gave a faint chuckle, then noticed her mouth was smeared with syrup. He passed her a napkin.

  Anko wiped her face, then hesitated, fidgeting in her seat.

  "You know who my teacher is?" she finally asked.

  Makoto blinked. "Nope."

  Anko lit up. "He’s one of the Legendary Sannin—Orochimaru-sama!"

  Makoto replied ftly, "Wow. Amazing."

  "..."

  Anko frowned. That wasn’t the reaction she expected. He didn’t seem awed at all.

  In her mind, he should’ve been starry-eyed, begging to hear more about Orochimaru’s heroic deeds and maybe even ask to meet him.

  Why wasn’t reality cooperating?

  "...Don’t you want to meet Orochimaru-sama?" she pressed.

  Makoto raised an eyebrow. "Did Orochimaru-sama ask you to say that?"

  Anko gasped. "How did you know?!"

  Makoto looked at her—so honest, so easy to read. Interacting with kids really was simpler.

  So pure… still so pure.

  "Eat your dango before it gets cold."

  "Ah! Right! I forgot!"

  After the meal, Makoto followed Anko to meet Orochimaru.

  All along the way, she kept gushing about how powerful and brilliant her teacher was. She rattled off a dozen of his achievements—some true, some exaggerated, all of them new to Makoto.

  Orochimaru’s residence was a quiet, isoted compound. The street outside was deserted.

  Anko didn’t bother knocking—she ran straight in, calling out loud.

  "Orochimaru-sama! I brought Makoto!"

  Makoto, however, walked in calmly and waited in the living room, standing quietly.

  Before long, someone stepped out from the inner room.

  Makoto didn’t look up right away. He saw only a figure in bck, tall and slender, dressed for comfort at home.

  The man stopped a few steps away. Anko immediately bounced over. The man pced a hand gently on her head.

  "Greetings, Orochimaru-sama," Makoto said.

  A faint grunt in response, the voice dry and raspy, like thread scraping against parchment—deeply unpleasant to the ear.

  Anko, still giddy, turned to Makoto and boasted, "Orochimaru-sama is going to be the next Hokage!"

  Makoto looked up, feigning surprise. "Really? That’s strange. I heard the next Hokage was going to be Namikaze Minato-sama."

  Silence fell over the room.

  Then the rasp returned.

  "Hyuga Makoto, was it?"

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