Naruto: Rise of the Fallen Princess

The events that had transpired in the Land of Hot Water had begun to send ripples across the world—ripples that would soon swell into tidal waves, both figuratively and literally.

The moment Hinata Gin became a true pillar—when she connected not only to the natural energy flowing through Yumegakure no Kai, which had been purified and harmonized through her tireless guidance, but also to the natural energy of the real world—the very fabric between dream and reality shuddered. She became a bridge. A medium. An irreplaceable conduit between the realm hidden behind dreams and the one shaped by stone and blood.

The gears within the great mechanism began to shift.

What Yumegakure had once done through instinct now flowed with natural simplicity. When Hinata cried for help, Yumegakure lent her strength. When she sought to protect innocents from the consequences of her own unleashed power, the Yumegakure responded, guiding her as she had so often guided it. And this was only the beginning.

That same day, something else occurred.

The priestesses of the Cult of the Moon—spread across the continent—began to disappear.

One moment, they were present. In the next, they were gone.

Each one, without exception, halted what they were doing. They walked calmly to a private space—a cell, a garden, a room of prayer. Those who attempted to follow or spy on them saw each priestess enter, sit in a meditative pose… and within minutes, fade from sight like mist under morning light.

By the following day, countless souls began to appear within the White World.

There, they were greeted by an illusion of the Silver Lady—an echo of Hinata Gin, crafted from threads and will—to deliver a choice.

The first arrivals were those Hinata had personally touched. Every thread she had enriched with her silver light had become an invitation. They came willingly, or hesitantly, or skeptically. But they came.

The second wave followed not long after: those who were emotionally bound to individuals already within Yumegakure. Children. Lovers. Parents. Friends. Bonds, so strong that they shimmered like beacons across reality. As soon as they laid eyes on the Red Gate, they knew. They felt it in their bones. Beyond that threshold waited someone they could not abandon.

Needless to say, Yumegakure's population began to grow rapidly in the coming times.

The next to sense the change were the Sage Lands.

The great mountains, the deep caves, the sacred groves—all trembled.

The flow of natural energy did not cease, but it shifted—subtly, yet undeniably. Something new now whispered beneath the breath of the world. Something unmeasured.

For the first time in centuries, the three great Sage Lands felt the need to speak again. And perhaps, this time, they would not speak alone.

Perhaps it was time to call the sages of the lesser clans.

Something was happening.

Something unprecedented.

The anomaly had begun to bloom.

<<<< o >>>>

In Yumegakure no Kai, the air tastes different.

Kaito opened his eyes slowly, rising from the edge of a still pond in one of the outer gardens. He didn't need to meditate to feel it—Yumegakure itself was humming. Not like a song, but like a forge: active, molten, overflowing with intent. Something deep had shifted.

In the network of Silver Nodes—once portals established by Hinata during the age of the Shadow attacks—dormant lanterns scattered across the realm began to flicker. But today, something new happened. Dozens, then hundreds of new nodes emerged, glowing softly as they opened. These were more than expansions—they were reactions. Responses.

He stood.

Figures began to appear. First in dozens, then in hundreds. People with wide, confused eyes. Some in prayer robes, others in humble clothes, still others in shinobi gear. Children and elders. Some cried. Some screamed. Others wandered silently, clutching the names of their loved ones as if they were lifelines.

Kaito asked no questions.

Hinata was not here.

But her threads were.

He moved with calm precision, issuing silent signals to the few samurai stationed nearby—Emi among them. He met his gaze and immediately began assembling others. Souta ran, barking orders. Obedience followed naturally.

This was not an attack. It was a migration.

A gust of silver wind swept through the streets of Yumegakure. Spiritual pathways unfurled like glowing veins of ink, gently guiding the disoriented. Yet even as the world helped them walk, Kaito could feel the land's unease.

Yumegakure was trying to help. It simply didn't know how.

And so, recalling his father's teachings, Kaito chose to take command—not to rule, but to anchor.

He approached a trembling miko kneeling beside a flickering silver candle.

"Do you know why you're here?" he asked gently.

The woman looked up. "The Silver Lady… she called us. She said… there was a choice."

He nodded.

"Then you're safe. We will guide you."

Behind him, unseen by the crowd, dozens of silver threads shimmered above the newly arrived. Each thread pointed toward a possible future.

Kaito inhaled deeply, the weight of responsibility like cold steel in his lungs.

"You led them here, Hinata," he whispered, eyes lifted to the boundless sky. "I'll help them walk the rest of the way."

Behind Kaito, numerous inhabitants of Yumegakure no Kai would rise up to the new challenge.

<<<< o >>>>

The days that followed were strange and weightless for Hinata.

She drifted in and out of consciousness, each moment like a wave crashing on a distant shore. In the haze between sleep and pain, she kept reliving it: the instant the island vanished from the world, and the wrath of the sea descended on the coast in a tall wall of judgment and regret.

When she finally opened her eyes, reality returned in pieces.

To one side, Kuro lay unconscious. To the other, Kenshiro sat silently, his hand wrapped gently around hers. Under her head, soft and warm, pulsed the delicate tip of Mitsue's tail—trembling the moment Hinata stirred.

And around them all, she could sense it: the massive protective coil of Mitsue's body encircling the camp.

"You gave us quite the scare, young lady…" Kenshiro's voice was soft and filled with rare emotion, his grip reassuring but careful.

"How long…?" Hinata murmured, her throat dry. The memories rushed back like a flood—and so did the tears she tried to suppress.

"You've been unconscious for five days," Kenshiro said, gently. "Honestly, I'd call your recovery rate a miracle. Your legs were a mess—deep internal bruising, torn tendons… You pushed yourself too far. Again. But I'd say in a few more days, you'll be able to stand. Walk, even. Another person would've spent months in a bed."

Hinata blinked slowly. "Kuro… why hasn't she woken up?"

Kenshiro offered a sympathetic smile. "Jiren put her to sleep. She refused to rest while you were unconscious—stayed up for two full days. He finally got angry and knocked her out until you woke up."

A familiar voice broke in from the tent flap. "She's awake."

Jiren entered the makeshift tent with his usual dry demeanor. "You've been a headache, Princess. Makes it hard to do my job when you run around trying to get yourself killed without my supervision."

"I… I'm sorry," Hinata whispered, unable to hold back the guilt and exhaustion that crashed down on her.

Jiren frowned. Vulnerability in Hinata was rare—and he didn't like it. Not that he'd admit it.

As he administered a vial of antidote to Kuro's resting body, he continued talking without looking directly at her.

"You're safe now. And, according to Kenshiro, recovering well. Those poisons you encountered? Unbelievably potent. I didn't expect anything like that to exist outside my homeland. I'm still impressed. With your vitality, maybe you would've pulled through eventually, but I decided not to risk it. Used a bit of my own venom as a counteragent. It neutralized what was eating you from the inside."

Kuro's eyes flickered open and, in a flash of silver and shadows, she licked Hinata's cheek and curled around her protectively.

"You're awake! I was so worried!" she cried in her usual childlike voice, trembling with emotion.

"I'll leave you two to it," Jiren muttered, standing up and leaving the tent without another word.

Outside, the wind shifted.

Inside, Hinata breathed—and for the first time in days, it didn't hurt.