A little more than two months passed since Hinata arrived at the Gin family estate. In the real world, her days began to take a softer shape. Despite her status as Takama's adopted daughter setting her apart, she found moments of joy in the ordinary — conversations with youths her age, helping villagers with small tasks, and playing with little Rin. She noticed something powerful in these small moments: dreams. The children dreamed of becoming samurai, of making their parents proud, of dancing in the snow. These fragile hopes wove themselves into Hinata's heart.
One snowy morning, she joined several children in shaping animals out of snow. A boy with a wooden sword proclaimed himself the next "Sword Saint of the East." A girl confided in Hinata her dream to open a teahouse with her sisters. These were not the ambitions of shinobi or warriors, but they carried a purity that touched Hinata more deeply than any medal or rank had ever done.
For the first time, she felt what it might have been like to have a younger sister with Rin. The laughter, the small fights, the shared mischief. These interactions were not part of any mission, nor bound by duty. They were simple and beautiful. Slowly, without realizing it, Hinata was healing emotional scars she had long since forgotten were there.
Every day in the real world provided Hinata with a way to maintain her maturity and help her grow.
In contrast, within the Silver World, much more time had passed. Guided by Hinata's will, the realm flowed differently. Over two years had gone by in that sanctuary of spirit. The world was hers to shape — and she had not squandered the time.
Hinata's spiritual training had blossomed. Through Michel's guidance, she learned that Genjutsu and illusion-based techniques translated easily into spiritual equivalents. When channeling her grey soul, she could recreate them fluently. But when she entered her silver soul state — temporary though it was — the power of her techniques surged. Their scale, their reach, their emotional resonance: all became magnified.
Yet the most arduous endeavor she undertook, one shared with Michel's constant support, was the creation of something new. They sought to fuse the illusory academy clone technique with the complex shadow clone — specifically, the shadow clone's capacity to operate autonomously and share memory with the user.
The result was promising, but imperfect. Hinata succeeded in generating spiritual clones with individual autonomy and a continuous mental link — but the strain was tremendous. The clones did not simply relay memories after dispelling; they were always connected. As a result, maintaining more than two clones simultaneously caused her severe sensory overload. Michel warned her that the risk to her mind and soul was significant. Yet he also admitted that the mental load was a potent means of growth.
One morning, Michel caught her trying to maintain three clones. Her body trembled, her vision blurred, and before she collapsed, he stepped in. "Pushing your limits helps you grow, yes. But breaking them without care only leads to ruin."
Hinata nodded, still panting. "I just wanted... to be ready."
"You will be," he assured her. "But even the strongest thread must be woven patiently."
Hinata's development of the micro boost had reached new levels. She could now integrate micro boosts seamlessly into both her unarmed martial arts and her kenjutsu — particularly the inverted-blade style taught by Takama. The synergy of her boosts with the World of Intent — a spiritual state that allowed her to predict and redirect movement through soul perception — made her increasingly formidable. With minimal effort, she could land decisive blows in combat that stunned even her teachers.
Attempts to use the boost as a medium to give physical form to spiritual techniques had led nowhere, however. Michel speculated that the principle might be flawed at its core — or simply not yet within reach.
But what mattered most was the birth of a new technique, the Spiritual Clone. With it now perfected but limited in number, Hinata felt confident she could finally maintain the identity of the Silver Lady, the High Priestess through one of these clones while preserving her real self.
She stood beneath the great moonlight of the Silver World one night, watching the reflection of the tower's altar on the lake below. A serene wind brushed the long grass of the surrounding field. Michel watched from a distance, arms crossed.
"You've done it," he said simply.
Hinata nodded. "I think I can keep them apart now. Me and the Silver Lady."
Michel smiled. "The clone will echo your will. But remember — divinity doesn't require perfection. Just intention."
She turned to him, eyes soft. "Is that what this world is, then? A mirror of intention?"
Before Michel could answer, footsteps approached. Takama, now a seasoned presence in both the real and spiritual worlds, stepped into the light.
"May I speak with you, Hinata? Alone."
Michel nodded and stepped back into the shadows.
Takama looked at her carefully. "Two years here, and still you grow. But I see doubt in your eyes."
Hinata let out a slow breath. "I just wonder... when does power stop being a burden and become a gift?"
Takama considered her words. "When you stop holding it alone."
A silence passed between them.
Hinata finally smiled. "Then I'll keep sharing it. One thread at a time."
He gave a warm nod, and then with a glint of admiration, added, "And I'll keep sharpening the blade that guards those threads."
<<<< o >>>>
In the real world, while snow blanketed the gardens of the Gin estate, Hinata knelt beside Maeko in front of a delicate blue porcelain tea set. Her hands trembled slightly as she tried to pour the steaming liquid without spilling. Maeko watched her, offering no correction — not yet.
"Every gesture is a word, Hinata," she said at last. "If you serve tea as a priestess, as a noble… you're saying you respect the moment, your guest, and yourself."
Hinata lowered her gaze but nodded. She had fought against ninjas, monsters, illusions… and yet, making a perfect bow felt far more difficult.
"You know why you're doing so well?" Maeko added with the faintest smile. "Because you've already understood that true strength also means knowing when to be gentle."