Archive of Our Own ^beta

Patrick’s expression remained stern, his voice clipped. “Duly noted. Move along.”

With a reluctant shrug, Gildarts muttered, “Aye, aye. Still say it’s bad luck—girls aboard, especially wee ones like her.” He wandered off, the flask clinking as he disappeared into the mist.

Hinata, undaunted, turned back to the sea, her voice soft but earnest. “I… I think meeting a pirate would be exciting,” she said, her cheeks flushing as she glanced at her father and Patrick, her curiosity shining through her shyness.

Patrick’s lips curved into a faint, controlled smile. “Think again, Miss Hyuga,” he said, his tone firm. “They’re a lawless scourge. I’ll see every pirate—branded or flagged—meet a swift end.” His eyes flicked to Gildarts, a silent cue in the glance.

Gildarts caught it and grinned wickedly. Yanking a headband from his neck, he tilted his head, stuck out his tongue, and mimed a hanged man’s death with exaggerated flair. Hinata’s hands flew to her mouth, her gasp sharp as she stared at Patrick in shock.

Governor Hiashi Hyuga stepped between them, his presence calm and regal, his long hair framing a face of quiet authority. “Lieutenant Zala,” he said, his voice steady, “your zeal is noted, but I worry for my daughter’s peace of mind.”

Patrick inclined his head slightly. “My apologies, Governor Hyuga,” he replied, turning away with precise steps.

Hinata looked to her father, her voice trembling with excitement. “I… I find it all so fascinating, Father.”

Hiashi’s eyes softened, though concern lingered. “That’s precisely what troubles me,” he said, moving away with a thoughtful frown.

Alone again, Hinata peered into the fog. A frown creased her brow as an umbrella drifted into view, followed by a boy with spiky blonde hair clinging to a wooden raft. Her heart raced.

“Look! A boy! He’s in the water!” she cried, her voice rising with urgency as she pointed.

The crew surged into action. Patrick was first to respond, his command clear. “Man overboard! Get the ropes, the hooks—bring him up!”

Hinata offered a gentle smile. “I’ll look after you, Naruto,” she promised, her tone warm.

Reassured, Naruto’s eyes closed again, his body slumping into sleep. Hinata reached for the chain around his neck, her fingers brushing a cold, heavy object. She pulled it free—a golden medallion, its surface marked with strange carvings. Her breath hitched, a blend of awe and unease filling her. “A pirate…” she whispered, the word a mix of wonder and dread.

A shadow loomed over her, and she spun around, tucking the medallion behind her back. Patrick Zala stood there, his expression stern. “What’s he said?” he asked, his voice direct.

Hinata’s heart raced, but she kept her composure. “His name is Naruto Uzumaki. That’s all he’s told me,” she answered, her hands trembling slightly.

Patrick gave a curt nod. “Move him below deck,” he instructed, and two sailors stepped forward to carry Naruto away. Hinata retreated to the bow, her mind swirling. She pulled the medallion from behind her, tracing its edges with her fingers. The sea stretched out, deceptively calm.

Then she saw it—a massive black ship with ragged sails, its hull slicing through the fog like a phantom.

Before she could react, the vessel vanished into the mist, leaving only silence.

(Eight Years Later)

Hinata Hyuga awoke with a start, her chest rising and falling rapidly as the memory of that day clung to her. The room was dark with morning already risen.

She sat up, her dark hair tousled, and glanced around to steady herself. Her hand reached for the bedside table, sliding open the drawer with a soft creak. Inside lay the golden medallion, neglected for years. She lifted it, running a finger over its surface; dust fell away, revealing the faint etchings.

To his shock, the thing came loose with a loud crash that bounced off the walls. His eyes went wide, and he flailed, shoving it into his pocket before it slipped and plopped into a cane holder with a thud. A servant strolled by, clearing his throat like he was scolding without words, and Naruto gave a quick, awkward nod.

Just then, Hiashi came down the stairs, his presence calm and welcoming. “Ah, Mr. Uzumaki, good to see you again,” he greeted with a nod.

Good to be here!” Naruto shot back, his voice loud and full of life. He plunked the sword case on the table, flipping it open with a grin. Bowing a little, he yanked out the blade, its steel gleaming as Hiashi took it, pulling it from the sheath. “Got your order right here, believe it!” he boasted, his pride shining through.

Hiashi eyed the weapon, the gold filigree on the handle sparkling. “May I see it tested?” Naruto asked, reaching out. Hiashi nodded, and Naruto grabbed the sword, balancing it like a pro.

Kisuke paused, raising his as gesture of mock respect. He raised his left hand to his forehead in a lazy salute, a faint smile tugging at his lips—part tribute, part amusement at the irony.

“Well, isn’t that thoughtful,” he murmured to himself, his voice carrying that sly, knowing lilt from his days of outwitting foes in hidden realms.

With a shake of his head, he resumed bailing, ensuring his little boat pressed on toward its destination.

That destination was the bustling port of Konoha, a hive of activity where ships from far-flung voyages docked amidst a cacophony of shouts and creaks. Sailors hauled crates, merchants haggled over exotic goods, and the air was thick with the scents of fish, spice, and tar. A group of men strained to unload several stubborn goats from their vessel, the animals bleating in protest as they were bartered right there on the docks. Heads turned as odd debris floated by—bits of wood, tangled ropes—drawing curious glances from the workers who paused in their labors.