Meanwhile, the Akatsuki organization had shifted its strategy.
They launched a global manhunt for Hinata Hyuga.
Attacking Konoha directly and capturing her family as hostages was considered—but such an approach carried enormous risk. Since Hinata had absorbed the incomplete Ten-Tails following the Gedo Mazo's transformation, her power made her both invaluable and dangerously unstable.
If things spiraled into mutual destruction, Hinata might die and take the Ten-Tails with her. Though no one could confirm whether the beast would truly perish with her, both Nagato and Obito agreed on one thing: the Ten-Tails was too important to lose.
To minimize risk, the Akatsuki divided into pairs, spreading across nations to find her.
Konan, acting as Amegakure's de facto leader, discreetly issued missions throughout the Rain Village. At the same time, through Kakuzu's underworld network, she placed an official bounty on Hinata's head. Anyone who provided a verified clue to her whereabouts would be handsomely rewarded.
Before long, the name Hinata Hyuga echoed across the shinobi world—whispered by spies, informants, and bounty hunters alike.
A twelve-year-old Jonin was already a rare achievement in peacetime. But a twelve-year-old possessing a transformed Byakugan, rumored to be stronger than any known version of the dōjutsu, became an irresistible target for countless factions.
Even ordinary civilians could profit by reporting information. The world itself seemed to turn into a giant net—one woven solely to capture Hinata.
Yet, despite the feverish search, she had seemingly vanished from existence.
…
The Land of Rain, which bordered the Land of Fire, held a small, nameless seaside town known as Rain City.
It was an impoverished place—not because of its lack of natural resources, but because of the corruption of its rulers.
The saying went: "Those who live near the mountains live off the mountains; those who live near the water live off the water."
Rain City lay beside the ocean, rich in fish and seaweed. Under normal circumstances, its people should have lived comfortably by the sea.
But that was not the case.
The real reason behind its poverty was the oppressive taxation imposed by the local lords. Heavy levies, "protection fees," "resettlement dues," and endless tributes during every festival crushed the townsfolk.
If a fisherman earned five Ryō a day, four would go to taxes, and the one remaining barely covered a day's meal—if at all.
The harder one worked, the poorer one became.
The ruling elite gorged themselves on luxury, wasting food and wealth, while those below them starved.
The ambitious left to seek better lives elsewhere, but few ever returned. The outside world, they often found, was not much kinder.
And it was here that Hinata chose to hide.
The most dangerous place, after all, was often the safest.
A week earlier, she had quietly returned to the Land of Rain—back into the heart of Akatsuki's territory itself.
She could afford to do so because she was well-prepared—meticulously, flawlessly prepared.
To conceal her identity, Hinata wore a short black wig and homemade colored contact lenses that dulled her pale eyes. Instead of her usual shinobi sandals, she wore heavy boots with layered insoles to alter her height. Light makeup softened her features, making her nearly unrecognizable—even to her own family.
She applied a pungent herbal oil to her body to mask her natural scent, ensuring that no sensory ninja could identify her.
She also placed thirty-two suppression seals across her body—each one layered to conceal her chakra entirely, from head to toe.
To complete her disguise, Hinata even twisted her left ankle slightly, forcing herself to limp and rely on a wooden crutch. She played the part of a frail, injured commoner flawlessly.
Her days were spent quietly, running a small street stall.
She sold simple origami toys—tiny paper cranes, rabbits, and flowers folded from colored scraps. Children were drawn to them, as were housewives seeking small distractions from their dreary days.
Business, however, was poor.
If Hinata truly relied on sales to survive, she would have starved long ago.
Occasionally, thugs or troublemakers came looking for easy targets. Hinata handled them in her own way—by feigning sickness.
One day, when a drunk approached her stall, she suddenly coughed violently, spitting out what looked like blood—though it was only ketchup.
"Stay back," she rasped hoarsely. "It's… contagious."
That was more than enough. From that day on, no one dared to come near her again.
Of course, that also meant no customers—but Hinata didn't mind.
Whether she earned a little or nothing at all made no difference to her.
…
Every morning, she set up her stall and sat quietly until afternoon, appearing half-asleep to passersby. In truth, while her eyes were closed, her consciousness entered her Homeland Space, where she continued construction and refined her mastery of the Tailed Beast Ball technique.
At sunset, she would pack up her things and return "home."
But her so-called home was merely an abandoned, decaying building where beggars once took shelter. Since her arrival, no one else dared to stay there—rumors of her "infectious illness" kept everyone away.
Originally, Hinata had rented a room, but when her landlord saw her "coughing blood," he panicked. He not only refunded her rent and deposit but even gave her extra money to leave immediately.
With nowhere else to go, she settled among the ruins.
It didn't matter. Hinata rarely needed sleep anymore.
When she returned that evening, the stench of rot and dampness filled the air.
"It really stinks," she muttered softly, wrinkling her nose.
She leaned her crutch against the wall, removed several suppression seals, and activated her Byakugan, scanning her surroundings to ensure there were no nearby chakra signatures.
Once the area was confirmed safe, Hinata released a few more layers of her seals, just enough to meet the chakra threshold required for travel.
Then—she vanished.
In the next instant, she appeared within the palace of her Supergravity Space.
This palace existed within a dimension of its own—one that Hinata could control. She could adjust its gravity at will, increasing or nullifying it completely.
At the moment, gravity was sealed.
Like her original Homeland Space, this supergravity realm also operated at a ten-to-one time ratio—ten hours inside equaled one hour in reality.
Because of that, Hinata could live calmly in the outside world, unbothered by wasted time. Whatever she lost there, she could easily recover here.
The scrolls containing Hinata's supplies were neatly arranged inside the palace. She opened a few, taking out ingredients, medicine, pots, and pans. With practiced movements, she began cooking a simple yet hearty meal.
After eating, she filled a large wooden tub with warm water and took a long bath.
The sickly, unkempt image she maintained in public was merely an act. When alone, Hinata preferred to stay clean and carry a pleasant scent.
Once she had eaten and rested, she stepped out of the palace. The instant her feet touched the floor outside, her body was seized by the immense gravitational pull of the chamber. Moving even an inch felt agonizingly heavy.
Gravity and weight training were two completely different concepts. While weighted exercise targeted the body's surface, gravity affected everything—muscles, bones, organs, even the flow of blood and chakra within her veins.
And Hinata thrived under it.
In this crushing environment, every motion yielded progress she could feel. Pain and exhaustion meant nothing to her now.
Push-ups, sit-ups, handstand walks, frog jumps, sprints, horse stance, slapping the ground with open palms—she trained until her body was drenched in sweat and bruised from head to toe.
Technically speaking, Hinata was now the Jinchūriki of the Ten-Tails. Her physical abilities were several times greater than before. Normal aerobic training no longer tired her; she had to rely on anaerobic drills that pushed her limits, exercises so extreme that even her enhanced body screamed in protest.
She trained recklessly—fiercely, relentlessly.
After a full day, she finally collapsed onto the ground, motionless. Yet after a short while, the Ten-Tails' life force stirred within her, rejuvenating her body, healing every strain and bruise until her strength returned.
Once revived, Hinata returned to the palace, ate another full meal, and immediately resumed training.
Day after day, the cycle continued.
By the fifth day, Hinata finally stopped. She disguised herself again—slipping on her wig, twisting her left ankle, drawing the thirty-two suppression seals onto her body—and left the supergravity space.
In the real world, only twelve hours had passed.
…
When she reappeared in her worn disguise, she looked miserable and frail, leaning heavily on her cane as she pushed her small stall into place.
She sat down, half-closing her eyes as though dozing—but her consciousness had already entered the Homeland Space, where construction and training continued in silence.
This was Hinata's life now—divided between worlds.
She needed time to adapt to and control the Ten-Tails' chakra. Until then, it was unwise to engage Akatsuki head-on.