Chapter 25 – Black Paw, Silver Heart

Kuro woke before the sun.

The courtyard was quiet, the air tinged with dew and the faint scent of sakura trees. She stretched slowly, her muscles fluid, her joints soundless. Her left eye, the one lost long ago, ached faintly in the cold.

She padded silently across the wooden floor of the Hyūga branch compound. The halls were always empty at this hour—just how she liked it. She passed by Neji's room, paused, and with surgical precision, nosed the door just slightly ajar.

Inside, she sniffed once. Scrolls.

Another sniff. Cloth.

Another mischievous paw, and a bundle of folded clothes slipped off a low shelf. She dragged a scroll under a chest of drawers, carefully hidden from sight.

Satisfied, she trotted away, tail high.

They treat her like glass.

But I've seen her break stone.

<<<< o >>>>

Kuro returned to Hinata's side before she stirred. Her little human curled in sleep, hands tucked under her chin, brow relaxed.

To others, Hinata might still seem fragile. But Kuro knew better. She had seen the dreams. The other place. The silver world.

In the realm of sleep, Hinata was different. Not just bolder—more precise, sharper, balanced. And in those dreams, they trained. Together.

Kuro remembered every lesson Michel taught. Every movement, every correction. She recalled sparring, dodging, countering.

And though Hinata never remembered upon waking, Kuro did.

That was enough.

<<<< o >>>>

Later, as Hinata trained with her quarterstaff under the quiet eye of Kurenai, Kuro lay nearby in the shade, watching every motion. She could see the hesitation still lurking in Hinata's steps—but also the strength. The resolve.

When Kiba and Shino joined them, Kuro gave Akamaru a soft growl—a greeting and a challenge. The other pup was energetic but simple. He followed Kiba's lead with loyal enthusiasm. Kuro, on the other hand, followed no one blindly.

Except her.

Except Hinata.

She stood when they were dismissed, following Hinata back through the winding paths of Konoha. She knew the way by scent and memory. The market stalls, the flowers near Yamanaka's shop, the open rooftops where cats lounged.

They passed Hyūga elders, and Hinata bowed politely to them, lowering her gaze as tradition demanded. Their eyes, cold and empty, barely acknowledged her presence.

Kuro's hackles lifted slightly.

None of them had earned Hinata's kindness.

She remembered the ones who ignored her when she was sick, the ones who scoffed at her training, the one who once shoved her during a ritual.

She made sure his sandals never stayed where he left them again.

She made sure his letters got wet.

She made sure he kept wondering how.

And still she lay beside Hinata every night like a simple, silent guardian.

<<<< o >>>>

That night, when Hinata finally fell into sleep, Kuro pressed against her side, feeling the rhythm of her chakra—the gentle rise and fall, like breath beneath water.

Then she felt the shift.

The silver mist.

The step between worlds.

She blinked, and she was in the Silver World.

It shimmered with possibility. The training ground was empty, quiet, but filled with echo. Michel wasn't there now, but his presence lingered. Hinata—the silver world Hinata—stood in the center, staff spinning.

She looked up.

Kuro ran toward her.

They didn't speak. They didn't need to.

They moved.

Not in sync. In harmony.

As if their souls had practiced this dance before their bodies ever did.

A dance of strikes, dodges, sweeps. Kuro timed her movements to match the rhythm. This Hinata didn't hesitate. She flowed like water, cut like wind.

Kuro felt alive in this place. Whole. She could be more here. Learn more. Remember more.

And even when the world began to fade, and the pull of waking came, she knew:

Part of this would stay with her.

Because Kuro didn't dream. She remembered.

<<<< o >>>>

She woke beside Hinata, heartbeat steady, breath calm.

The sun peeked over the rooftops.

Hinata murmured in her sleep, her hand brushing Kuro's side.

The exams would begin soon.

Kuro stood, stepping silently to the open window.

She looked out across Konoha, her gaze sharp and unwavering.

Let them come, she thought.

Let them underestimate her.

This time, they'll meet both of us.