The crescent moon hung bright in the sky, its light threading through the screen window like delicate strands, scattering across the stone floor like shattered jade.
In the dining room, under the glow of a fluorescent light, Might Guy cradled a bowl in his hands, lost in thought as he stared at the girl sitting rigidly across from him.
She stood about 1.3 meters tall—likely six or seven years old. A large white cloak swallowed her slender frame, leaving only the lower half of her legs exposed. Her long, silver-gray hair cascaded loosely over her shoulders, reflecting a muted metallic sheen under the light.
Her face was wrapped in a thick black cloth, its edges frayed and uneven, as if torn from some garment. It covered her eyes completely, stretching down over her cheeks and the bridge of her nose.
Guy had found her earlier that day.
After finishing his grueling training—walking home on his hands—he'd spotted a pitiful blind girl huddled by the roadside, seemingly abandoned. So, he took her in.
That was the gist of it.
"Here."
"Thank you."
Hikari naturally accepted the ramen and chopsticks Guy handed her, her movements smooth and assured. The blindfold might as well have been decorative.
Slurp.
She lifted a strand of noodles elegantly, her eating nearly silent—a stark contrast to Guy, who devoured his food with the grace of a wild boar.
"SCHLORRRRP!"
Guy tilted his head back, dumping the entire bowl of ramen—broth and all—into his mouth with a noise like a tractor plowing through a wheat field. Then he dashed back to the kitchen for seconds.
"SCHLORRRRP! SCHLORRRRP!"
Morning: ten laps around Konoha.
Noon: one-finger push-ups—1,000 per digit.
Afternoon: high-intensity weight training.
He was starving.
Slurp.
Hikari finished her bowl just as gracefully, then stood to refill it. Her speed matched Guy's almost bite for bite.
"SCHLORP—Hikari, you… burp… can see?"
Guy's round, gleaming forehead wrinkled in surprise as he studied her fluid movements. He'd assumed she was a helpless, blind orphan begging on the streets. Clearly, he'd been wrong.
At his question, Hikari's ashen pupils—hidden beneath the blindfold—shifted slightly.
Her 360-degree vision unfolded, rendering everything around her semi-transparent. The expiring milk in the fridge. The fruit. The nearly empty wallet in the bedroom, mostly coins with a few crumpled bills. The secret scrolls and adult magazines tucked under the bed.
Even Might Guy himself.
Muscle fibers. Bones. Organs. The sluggish flow of chakra through his meridians—all laid bare.
"I'm blind."
She tilted her head, pointing at the black cloth covering her eyes, her voice cool and matter-of-fact.
"Ah! S-sorry!"
Realizing he'd touched on a sore subject, Guy hastily apologized and dropped the issue of her unnatural coordination.
"It's fine. Thank you for the ramen—it was delicious."
First time anyone had ever praised his cooking. Guy rubbed his bowl-cut, grinning so wide his cheeks nearly split—though he tried to play it cool. "Just threw it together. Eat up, kid, no need to hold back."
Unbeknownst to him, Hikari's Byakugan saw right through the act.
"SCHLORRRRP!"
Between laughs, Guy demolished another bowl.
Every taijutsu specialist was a hidden black hole for food.
And Hikari?
Shikotsumyaku + Byakugan.
Both kekkei genkai were natural counters to pure physical combat.
Combined?
Barring the Eight Gates, she could confidently say she'd one day be the bane of every taijutsu user in the world.
Grandmaster of them all.
…Well, grandmistress.
Clink.
Her chopsticks tapped the empty bowl.
"I'll get it!"
Obliviously playing the role of "dutiful grandson," Guy snatched both their bowls and bolted to the kitchen.
---
Dinner ended abruptly.
Guy hadn't expected Hikari to pack away ramen like a seasoned shinobi. After two massive bowls each, the pot held nothing but oily broth.
"Uh… There's no more—"
Returning with a bowl of broth for Hikari, Guy froze.
The "helpless blind orphan" he'd scooped off the street was now crouched over her grimy yellow bag, rummaging through it—
CRACK.
The bowl shattered in his grip, broth splattering across the floor. But he barely noticed.
Inside the bag:
Neat stacks of fire-green bills—the highest denomination in the Land of Fire—bound in thick bundles with kraft paper.
Thicker than the bricks he'd once laid for pocket change during his broke genin days.
And they were just… piled in there like scrap paper. The "old clothes" he'd assumed were rags? Folded meticulously between the stacks.
Wearing that must feel like being wrapped in pure cash.
Guy, who'd never seen this much money in his life, could only stare.
"Here."
Hikari pulled out a stack—so thick she had to cradle it with both hands—and held it out to him.
"F-for me?"
"Mhm. For the food and lodging."
"This is way too much—"
"The rest is a thank-you. For taking me in."
"I…"
Guy's usual boisterous voice had gone soft, humbled by sheer wealth.
Watching Hikari casually wave around enough money to buy a small village, he suddenly felt he was the stray she'd picked up off the street.
Wait—
Lodging? I never said she could stay!
But…
He hefted the weighty "brick" in his hand and swallowed his protests.
Exhaustion from training forgotten, he mechanically began cleaning the spilled broth.
Hikari watched his conflicted expression, amused.
Some things never change, no matter the world.
After leaving Hell's Port, she'd gone straight to settle accounts with Nagare Bunshin.
That bastard knew the ship was trouble.
Before her, both Orochimaru and Zabuza had squeezed funds out of him. Even the Hope's tickets had flowed through his hands.
Everyone robs the place on their way out, huh?
Guess we all think alike.
In the end, Hikari had raided the local gambling dens.
The cash in her bag was pocket change—the rest sat in a numbered Fire Country account, accruing interest that could fund a small army.
"Guy."
They'd exchanged names earlier, so she used the familiar one from her past life.
"Yeah?"
On his knees, scrubbing the floor, he glanced up.
"You got a girlfriend?"
"Huh?!"
---