The waning moon hung clear and bright, its light stretching into thin threads as it filtered through the mesh of the window screens, scattering across the stone threshold like crushed jade.
In the living room, beneath the glow of a fluorescent bulb, Might Guy sat at the dining table. He rested his chin on his hand, staring at the girl sitting perfectly upright across from him, lost in thought.
The girl stood about 1.3 meters tall, looking to be six or seven years old. A loose white cloak enveloped her small frame down to her shins. Her silver-grey hair fell casually over her shoulders, reflecting a faint, metallic matte sheen under the light.
A thick black cloth was tied across her face. It was sturdy with uneven edges—likely torn from some garment—and it was bound tightly enough to hide her eyes, cheeks, and the bridge of her nose completely.
A long day of grueling training had come to an end. On his way home—walking on his hands, of course—Guy had spotted a pitiful blind girl huddled by the roadside, seemingly forsaken by the world. So, he had picked her up and brought her home.
That was the long and short of it.
"Here."
"Thank you."
Hinami naturally accepted the ramen and chopsticks Guy handed her. She moved with fluid grace; her blindfold seemed to be nothing more than an accessory.
Slurp—
She lifted a cluster of noodles, eating elegantly and almost silently. In stark contrast, Might Guy was making sounds like a boar at a trough.
Gulp, slurp, slurp!
Guy tilted his head back, pouring the noodles and broth into his mouth with the roar of a tractor harvesting a wheat field. He spun around, dashed to the kitchen to refill a massive bowl, and returned to continue his thunderous feast.
Between his morning run of ten laps around Konoha, his 1,000 single-finger push-ups per finger in the morning, and a high-intensity anaerobic weightlifting session in the afternoon—he was starving.
Slurp!
Hinami finished her bowl with refined speed and stood up to refill it herself. Her eating pace was somehow not much slower than Guy's.
"Slurp—Hinami, you... hic! Can you see?"
Guy let out a series of hiccups, his body twitching with each one. He watched Hinami move with total autonomy, his small eyes full of wonder beneath his glossy, reflective bowl-cut. He had assumed she was a helpless orphan who couldn't care for herself, but reality was proving otherwise.
The Gaze of the Hunter
In response to Guy's question, the ashen eyes hidden beneath Hinami's blindfold shifted slightly.
The 360-degree vision expanded instantly. Everything around her turned semi-transparent, revealing hidden structures and silhouettes.
The nearly expired milk and fruit in the fridge.
The wallet in the bedroom filled with coins and only a few scattered bills.
The secret technique scrolls hidden under the bed, alongside a few "adult" magazines featuring scantily clad women on the covers.
And Might Guy himself.
From the inside out—muscle fibers, bone density, internal organs, and even the slow, rhythmic surge of chakra in his pathways—everything was laid bare before her.
"I'm blind," Hinami said, tilting her head and pointing to the black cloth. Her voice was cool and her tone matter-of-fact.
"Oh! My apologies!"
Guy hurried to apologize, realizing it was rude to dwell on someone's disability. He stopped obsessing over her unusual coordination.
"It's alright. Thank you for the ramen. It was delicious."
Being praised for his cooking for the first time, Guy rubbed his bowl-cut. His smile was nearly reaching his ears, yet he tried to act composed. "It was just something I threw together. Eat up, little sister, don't be shy!"
He had no idea that his every facial muscle was being scrutinized through the blindfold by the Byakugan.
Slurp, slurp, slurp!
Guy finished yet another massive bowl. Every taijutsu specialist was a closeted glutton.
As for Hinami... with her Shikotsumyaku and Byakugan, she was the ultimate counter to physical fighters. Combining those two, and setting the Eight Inner Gates aside for a moment, she could confidently claim that she would one day be the "ancestor" of all taijutsu users.
Or rather, their grandmother.
The tip of her chopsticks clicked against the bottom of the bowl—a crisp sound signaling she was finished.
"I'll get that!"
Following the flow of her "grandson's" enthusiasm, Hinami handed over her bowl. Might Guy grabbed both empty sea-bowls and vanished into the kitchen like a streak of lightning.
The Power of the "Brick"
The dinner hour ended quickly. Guy hadn't expected Hinami to eat so much and hadn't prepared enough; after two massive bowls each, only a bit of oily broth remained in the pot.
"Um... there's nothing left in the—"
Guy returned from the kitchen with Hinami's bowl filled with broth, only to see the "pitiful, homeless orphan" crouched on the floor, casually opening her grimy, beige rucksack.
Crack!
The bowl in Guy's hand shattered from an involuntary squeeze. Broth splashed everywhere, but he didn't notice.
Inside the rucksack:
Thick wads of the Land of Fire's highest-denomination bills, bound in yellow parchment bands.
They were thicker than the bricks Guy used to lay for villagers back when he was a penniless Genin who couldn't afford to eat.
These "money bricks" were piled haphazardly in the bag like scrap paper. The "old clothes" he had imagined were actually folded neatly and tucked into the narrow gaps between the stacks of cash.
Does wearing those clothes make you smell like pure wealth?
Guy, who had never seen this much money in his entire life, felt a silent scream in his soul.
"Here."
Hinami pulled out a "money brick." It was so thick she had to hold it with both hands. She turned and offered it to the frozen Guy.
"This... for me?"
"Mhm. For the meal and the lodging."
"It... it doesn't cost this much..."
"Keep the rest as a thank-you for taking me in."
"I..."
Perhaps because of his lifelong poverty, Guy's naturally booming voice became soft and whispery. Looking at Hinami standing in the center of the room, casually waving a fortune around, he suddenly felt like he was the beggar who had been picked up off the street.
Wait! Lodging? I never said you could live here!
But... feeling the heavy weight of the "brick" in his hand, Guy swallowed his words. His exhausted body suddenly found a second wind, propelling him to clear the table and mop up the spilled broth with newfound vigor.
Watching Guy's hesitant yet compliant expression, Hinami, experiencing the thrill of "throwing money at a problem" for the first time, sighed inwardly.
No matter how the world changes, some things are universal.
Before leaving the docks of the "Ghost Ship," she had gone back to settle the score with Churyu Fumio. He had known the ship was a trap. Before Hinami had even found him, both Orochimaru and Zabuza had squeezed money out of him—every ticket for the SS Hope had passed through his hands.
It seemed everyone had the same idea: pull one big score before skipping town.
In the end, Hinami had simply cleaned out the liquid assets of the nearby casinos. The cash in her bag was just the tip of the iceberg; the rest was sitting in anonymous accounts across the Land of Fire. The interest alone was a fortune.
"Guy."
They had already exchanged names, and Hinami addressed him with the familiarity of her past life's knowledge.
"What is it?" Guy asked, turning from where he was kneeling on the floor, pushing a rag to dry the broth.
"Do you have a girlfriend?"
"Huh?"