At merely three years of age, Sasuke Uchiha had already grasped the concept of ambition. Unlike most children, whose hearts were still filled with innocence and play, his had already settled upon a goal far beyond his years—to become the strongest shinobi to ever exist. The second son of Fugaku and Mikoto Uchiha, he was born into a legacy heavy with expectations and tragedy, carrying within him a pair of dark, unyielding eyes that destiny itself seemed to have marked for power, solitude, and fear.

He had not yet awakened the Sharingan, the cursed gift of his clan, for Itachi Uchiha—his elder brother, his guide, his silent protector—made sure he would not carry such a burden prematurely. To Itachi, Sasuke was more than a younger sibling. He was the fragile anchor that tethered him to warmth amidst the suffocating responsibilities of being the clan’s heir, the only reminder that he himself was still human beneath the weight of duty. Sasuke, in turn, adored his brother with an unshakable devotion. Every step, every calm word, every precise movement of Itachi’s body was carved into Sasuke’s young mind. He did not only admire him—he yearned to become him. Controlled, wise, and untouchable.

On that day, Sasuke walked beside his brother, clutching the hem of Itachi’s sleeve with his small hand as they entered the Hyūga compound. The Uchiha had been invited to witness a rare and formal celebration—the third birthday of the Hyūga Clan’s heiress.

Sasuke’s gaze, however, was restless. While Itachi conversed with the elders of the Hyūga clan, Sasuke’s sharp eyes wandered across the compound. The surroundings were unlike his own home. The Hyūga estate was serene, a sanctuary of cultivated beauty. Every tree and stone seemed meticulously placed, the air filled with the tranquil song of birds that echoed through the calm, sunlit garden. Compared to the Uchiha compound, where silence often carried the weight of tension and unspoken pride, this place felt alive—gentle, almost sacred.

The crowd gradually hushed, drawing Sasuke’s attention forward. From behind a polished wooden door, sliding open with careful grace, emerged Hiashi Hyūga, the solemn and austere head of the clan. But it was not the man who captured Sasuke’s breath and held it hostage—it was the tiny figure at his side.

A girl.

She moved timidly, half-hidden behind the folds of her father’s robes, as if the eyes of the crowd were too heavy a burden for her small frame. She clung softly to him, her lavender eyes wide yet hesitant, gazing at the guests as though she wished to disappear beneath their attention. Those eyes—so unlike the cold sharpness of the Uchiha—were oceans of untainted innocence, vast with gentleness, yet trembling with vulnerability.

Sasuke felt something stir within him. Something alien, unexplainable, and powerful. His chest tightened. His knees, small and unsteady, almost gave way beneath him. His dark eyes, which were destined to one day become cold and feared, shimmered in a way they never had before.

Hinata Hyūga. Heiress of the Hyūga clan. The quiet, timid child who shrank before the weight of her lineage, yet whose very presence softened the room around her.

And in that fleeting instant, with the song of birds lingering in the air and the hush of the crowd surrounding them, Sasuke’s world shifted. For the first time in his young life, something other than strength caught his attention. Something pure, delicate, and profoundly disarming.

Someone.

Her.