Hinata Byakurenden

Epilogue: The Perfect Day for a Wedding

The air was warm beneath the boughs of Konoha's ancient forest. Sunlight filtered through sakura blossoms, scattering petals across the worn stone path. A soft breeze stirred the leaves, carrying the scent of incense, wildflowers, and rain lingering somewhere beyond the horizon.

Today was not a battlefield, but something gentler.

Five years had passed since the battle of Akatsukigakure—an ending in fire, but not in peace. What followed was not calm, but years of bitter border disputes, skirmishes that flared and faded across scorched lands. Only in time did the fighting give way to fatigue. Lines were drawn. Territories settled.

A fragile balance of a world split in two.

To the west, the Akatsuki Empire rose from the ashes of faith and ruin. No longer a collection of hidden villages, it spanned the fractured Earth Country, the scattered sands of Wind, and the forgotten reaches of the minor nations. There were no more Kage. No more shinobi in the traditional sense. But it had structure. It had soldiers. And at its center was Nagato, who ruled not as a god, but as the quiet architect of what came after—raising the children of those who had nearly torn the world apart.

In the east, the Shadow Alliance stood bound by flame and thunder. Konoha and Kumo, once bitter rivals, now held their ground in a cautious tandem. Together, they had claimed the Land of Water, sealing the eastern sea in a single chain of command. Their shinobi system persisted—remade, restrained, and reforged in the image of survival.

Together, the two nations stood not as enemies, but as reflections. Not light and dark, but motion and stillness. Fire and ash. Yin and Yang. And deep within its heart, where the leaves whispered like a prayer and the stone path remembered every step, a shrine waited. Not for war. Not for blood.

But for a wedding.

And the world had come to see it.

Naruto stood near the steps of the shrine, his hands folded behind his back, eyes turned toward the forest. He wore a crisp black and white wedding hakama, the Uzumaki spiral proudly emblazoned across his back. At his waist hung Susanoo's blade, sealed and sheathed, the metal as quiet and heavy as a memory.

To the world, he was the Stormslayer—the man who brought down a god with stolen lightning. But today, he felt no storm in his chest. Only the soft rattle of nerves that came with waiting.

From a short distance away, Iruka and Kakashi stood in silence, their expressions warm with pride. Neither spoke. They knew this moment belonged to someone else.

"Relax," came Jiraiya's voice beside him, rough and familiar. "You look like you're about to charge into battle." He settled down cross-legged on a cushion near the steps, his travel-worn cloak brushing the stone.

Naruto laughed under his breath.

"This is worse," he muttered, then turned to Jiraiya, eyes soft. "But I'm glad you're here. Thank you… for coming back."

Jiraiya smiled, the lines at the corners of his eyes crinkling with warmth.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world, kid."

His voice was gentler now—roughened not by age, but by the distance peace had demanded. As the official ambassador of the Shadow Alliance to the Akatsuki Empire, he spent more time across the border than at home. Peace didn't just need signatures. It needed witnesses. Storytellers. Hands that could build, and eyes that remembered.

Jiraiya had become all those things.

But for today—for this—he would set it all aside.

He reached into his cloak and drew out a sealed scroll, its ribbon marked with the crimson sigil of the Akatsuki Empire.

"I didn't come empty-handed either," he said with a small grin. "Nagato sent me back with this. Although he wishes he could be here in person. But between running an empire and raising twins, he's got his hands full."

Jiraiya cracked the seal and unrolled the scroll, reading it out loud.

"To Naruto and Hinata—congratulations. In a world still learning how to breathe, may your home always be a place where the air is warm and kind. I regret I cannot be there to witness it. But know that from the west, we raise a toast in your name."

Naruto's smile faded into something smaller, but deeper. He stared at the page for a long moment.

"I'm glad he's doing alright," he murmured. "And I'm glad you brought this."

A short distance away, beneath a towering cherry tree in full bloom, the Godaime Hokage, Itachi stood with his hands loosely clasped, flanked by his brother Sasuke, silent and watchful at his side.

Before them stood the other leaders who held the fragile alliance together.

Darui, Godaime Raikage of Kumo, wore black formal robes trimmed in silver, the new lightning sigil etched into his collar. Beside him stood Yugito, sharp-eyed and regal, the blue of her sash catching the wind.

A few paces apart, Gaara stood wrapped in weather-stained robes the color of sand and dusk. Kankurō, his brother and guard, stood just behind him, arms folded, makeup carefully reapplied for the occasion.

"Thank you all for making the journey," Itachi said, his voice low and deliberate. "Konoha is honored by your presence. I know it's no small thing, to cross so much land just to be here."

Gaara dipped his head, solemn.

"We're used to traveling by now." As part of the peace accord, Nagato had granted the former Shinobi of Sunagakure free passage through the Land of Wind. They couldn't put down roots—not permanently—but were allowed to move with the desert. "We've become wanderers. We share what we know, take in those willing to walk with us. We don't rebuild the past, we carry it forward. I lead where the wind leads. And I've learned to read its flow as Sage of the Desert."

Behind him, Kankurō scoffed.

"Speak for yourself. I still miss having walls." In truth he could have left, like so many others from the old Sand—Temari among them, now settled in Kumo—but he had chosen to remain in their ancestral home. Not for duty. Not for pride, but for Gaara.

Darui chuckled at that, waving a lazy hand.

"Running a village is a dull affair anyway. But someone has gotta do it." He had never sought the spotlight, but he had been at the center of both the Gokage Summit and the battle of Akatsukigakure. He had earned more than a title.

"All the same, congratulations on your promotion, Godaime Raikage-dono." Itachi offered a quiet smile. They were cut from the same cloth: quiet men who bore heavy roles, not because they desired them, but because they were needed.

Yugito smirked, cat-like eyes brimming mischievously.

"Took long enough, if you ask me. Ei-sama lost both arms in the war and still managed to run things for a few more years. Stubbornness runs deeper than chakra with that man."

She too had earned her place beside the Raikage long before the title passed. In the years that followed the war, she had been everywhere—leading the Shadow Alliance's forces, forging strategy between Kumo and Konoha, and spearheading the final push that brought the Land of Water under their banner.

And along the way, she had done what few believed possible. She had shed the shadow of the Jinchūriki's curse, and in its place, carved out a new legacy. One not of fear, but of leadership. Like Naruto and Bee before her, she had earned her people's trust not by suppressing the beast within, but by rising above it.

"That same stubbornness," Itachi said, "is why the transition went as smoothly as it did. Without his leadership, the formation of the Shadow Alliance might have fractured before it ever formed."

Kumo and Konoha were still building something new together—joint academies, shared training grounds, open borders. Their systems were still different, but their goals were finally beginning to align.

"Let's hope we can maintain it," Darui murmured, his eyes drifting toward the distant mountains. They reminded him of home—jagged, enduring, quiet. "Balance is easy to name," he said softly. "Harder to hold."

Sasuke finally spoke, quiet and pointed.

"If my brother and I could find balance, so can our villages."

Itachi turned toward him slightly. Their eyes met—just for a moment. Nothing was said, but the silence between them was its own kind of peace. The leaders nodded, subtle gestures between people who had once stood on battlefields, and now stood in borrowed peace.

Laughter rose from a livelier corner of the courtyard, where Kurenai stood watching her daughter run toward her, cheeks flushed with joy.

"She never slows down, does she?" Kurenai said with a smile, kneeling to catch Mirai in her arms as the girl spun and collapsed into giggles.

There was a time, not so long ago, when she hadn't thought she'd live to see a future like this. Poisoned by Orochimaru, fading in a hospital bed, her life had hung by a thread.

It was Hinata who had led her team across the Land of Fire and into a volcano to find the Moonfire Blossom and make the cure that saved her. Because of that, Kurenai had lived and "Mirai" existed.

The little girl darted off again, laughter trailing behind her as she ran into her cousin, Konohamaru's, waiting arms.

Just a few steps away, Sarutobi Hiruzen sat on a bench, his robes folding around him like soft clouds. He watched them with quiet joy, his eyes following the motion of his two grandchildren.

"Retirement suits you," Asuma said, leaning beside him with a lazy grin.

"It does," Hiruzen agreed, tapping his pipe gently. "Especially when the village still dances."

Their relationship had not always been easy—words left unsaid, distances grown from silence—but time and war had a way of sanding down sharp edges. And in the end, it had been Mirai who truly brought them back together. She had given them both something to agree on.

"There should be plenty of dancing today," Kurenai said, watching Mirai twirl across the stones. "Seems like just yesterday she was learning how to walk."

Kiba let out a low chuckle from nearby her.

"Tell me about it. Hinata too—I still remember the first time she tried to talk to Naruto." He said, scratching Akamaru behind the ears. "And now she's marrying the Stormslayer. I feel like I blinked and suddenly missed the whole journey." He shook his head, half-grinning. "And I still think I should've gotten a title too. Something cool. Like… I dunno, the Fang of Konoha or something." Akamaru sneezed pointedly, which Kiba took as betrayal.

"Akamaru's smarter than you are," Tayuya muttered without looking at him. "Should've done something useful before whining about titles." Then she glanced toward the shrine. "Still, you're right about them. They're like storms and stillness. Total opposites. But somehow, it fits." She exhaled like she hated admitting it.

She had once been surrounded by enemies, a weapon shaped in the dark halls of Otogakure. Alone. Disposable. Then she met Hinata. And later, she found Naruto, an Uzumaki just like her. They had given her something no one else had: a place to call home. And now, watching them come together like this… She was glad they had found each other.

She was glad they'd found her too.

"They balance each other," said Shino, flat but final. "As all ecosystems must."

He didn't say much else, but everyone could tell how happy he was for her. It was in the way he stood a little straighter than usual, in the careful way he had wrapped his gift: a small, lacquered jar of rare honey collected by a reclusive clan of insect tamers.

"They chose each other for the right reasons," Kurenai said as Mirai came bounding back to her, breathless and smiling. She brushed a lock of hair behind her daughter's ear. "That's what matters."

While these conversations unfolded, others echoed quietly all along the path—whispers and laughter shared between old classmates, foreign dignitaries, comrades-in-arms, and distant friends. The stone walkway was lined with memory and meaning, every face a thread in the fabric of what had come before.

A single chime rang out.

Soft, steady, and ancient in its cadence. The forest seemed to hush as it rang, a stillness sweeping across the shrine as every head turned toward the path. The chime's final note faded, petals stirring in its wake, drifting through shafts of sunlight like falling snow. And from the shadows of the trees, she stepped forward.

Hinata.

Clad in a white shiromuku, she seemed almost weightless, as if the wind carried her rather than her feet. A silk tsunokakushi framed her face, concealing the top of her hair in the traditional bridal style—a sign of humility and peace.

She had grown out her bangs, the strands falling softly across the left side of her face, covering the eye she had lost in the final battle against Amaterasu. Her remaining right eye shimmered with the light of the Tenseigan—a bloom of azure and gold, radiant and delicate as a flower opening at dawn. The final gift of Ōtsutsuki Kali.

Naruto stood frozen at the top of the shrine steps.

He had seen Hinata in every season—shivering in the cold, laughing in the sun, blazing with power when the world demanded it. But never like this. Never so calm. So radiant. So entirely herself.

"Wow," he murmured.

Beside him, Jiraiya smirked.

"Try breathing."

At Hinata's side walked Neji, dressed in formal Hyūga robes, his arm linked through hers with quiet pride. His forehead was bare—unhidden, unashamed—the Caged Bird Seal a relic of the past for all members of the branch family.

On her other side, Hanabi carried a small woven fan—ceremonial and symbolic, as tradition dictated. Her face held the composure of a clan heir, but her eyes betrayed her—bright, shimmering, filled with pride. Every few steps, her gaze flicked to Hinata, as if to reassure herself this was really happening.

Just behind them, Hiashi followed in silence. He did not lead her, for he did not need to. His presence alone was enough: the father who had once struggled to understand his daughter, now walking behind her, not out of authority, but in support.

And nestled between them, clutching Hinata's hand, walked Akko—a tiny shadow in a pink kimono, her black hair tied in twin loops, her Gurengan eyes wide with wonder and confusion. Together, the five of them moved forward not as nobility, but as family.

The crowd's reaction was subdued, but unmistakable. Gasps. Tension. Glances that lingered just a moment too long.

Her name now was Akko, but no one had forgotten who she had been.

Ōhirume Amaterasu, the fallen sun goddess.

Hinata's final blow had not destroyed her. She was a god—there was no killing her, not truly. Instead, she had been reborn, her divine form folding like flame into an infant.

At first, there had been a call for blood. For justice. For a final end. But Hinata had refused. And her voice carried weight, for she was the White Lotus, the one whose power had undone Amaterasu's divine form.

She declared her intent to raise the goddess. Not as a prisoner. Not as a weapon. But as a child. Few agreed. Some outright condemned her. Yet Hinata had persisted. Because what she wanted was not retribution.

What Hinata wanted was a gentler world.

And so, for the first time in her eternal life, the sun goddess was given something no temple, no army, no worshipper had ever offered her: Love.

Now, Akko stayed close to Hinata's side, her tiny hand tightening in her mother's as they passed beneath the Torii gate.

She could feel the stares—the uneasy glares cast from behind fans and folded sleeves. Whispers she couldn't quite hear but somehow understood were about her. She didn't know why. Couldn't know. She remembered no thrones, no temples, no firelight prayers. She had no memory of being Amaterasu, no understanding of the war she had once fueled.

All she knew was this life. This name. This warmth.

And so, when the stares pressed in, she did the only thing she could—

She leaned into Hinata, fingers curled tightly around her mother's hand, and walked on.

Because by her side, she was safe.

And for now, that was enough.

At the foot of the shrine steps, Hinata paused.

She turned slightly, her arm still looped through Neji's for one final moment. He met her gaze—steady, unwavering—then looked past her to where Naruto waited. There were no words. Only a slow, solemn nod. Not as a cousin, but as someone entrusting his sister to another.

At her side, Hanabi leaned down and gently took Akko's hand.

The little girl hesitated, her Gurengan eyes lingering on Hinata—uncertain, questioning—then allowed herself to be led away, her steps light, her gaze full of thoughts she did not yet have the words to voice.

Hinata stepped forward and Naruto finally breathed. Together, they climbed the stone steps until they stood beneath the sacred eaves of the shrine where the priest awaited them.

He began with a slow, deliberate bow.

A soft chant rose from the miko at the shrine's edge, their sleeves fluttering like white wings, their voices rising and falling with the rhythm of the forest wind. A wave of shubatsu swept through the shrine space—motions with sacred branches, incense curling into the air. The guests bowed their heads as the ritual smoke passed.

The priest offered three lacquered cups—the san-san-kudo. Naruto and Hinata each took turns lifting the cups: three sips from each, passing them between their hands with reverent care. Three sips. Three times. A bond sealed by ancient tradition, stronger than any jutsu.

They faced each other now, the silence profound.

Hinata's voice, soft and steady.

"You've always been like light to me—not the blinding kind, but the kind that waits. The kind that warms. I chose to walk beside you… because when I was at my lowest, you gave me the strength to rise."

Naruto's voice, rougher, tighter in his throat.

"You saw me before anyone else did. Not as a hero. Not as a monster. Just me. And now that I have you… I'm never letting go."

The priest stepped forward with a final gesture.

"From this day forward, under the eyes of the gods and the memory of the fallen, you are bound." As the final chant faded, the silence held for a heartbeat that was still and sacred.

One that marked Naruto and Hinata's transformation into husband and wife.

Then Akko tugged at Hanabi's sleeve and whispered, a little too loudly,

"Are we done now?"

Hanabi, who had been holding her breath, tears of joy welling in her eyes, let out an unexpected burst of laughter. She covered her mouth too late, her shoulders shaking as she nodded.

The sound broke the tension like sunlight through clouds. Laughter rippled gently through the guests. A few gasps. A few smiles.

Akko, unfazed, turned and dashed forward.

Hinata had just straightened from the bow when she saw her coming, and dropped to one knee, arms open.

"It's okay," she said gently, catching her in a warm embrace. "You did so well."

Akko beamed, burying her face in her mother's shoulder, her small fingers gripping the fabric of Hinata's robe like it was the only truth in the world.

Across the courtyard, Mirai waved from her mother's arms, her little hands flailing with barely-contained excitement.

Akko waved back, grinning wide—her earlier shyness already forgotten. The tension that had once gripped the crowd had vanished, melted into sunlight and laughter. Lanterns swayed gently overhead, casting warm gold across the shrine courtyard like blessings from the trees themselves.

"Can I go play now?" Akko asked, tilting her head up, her Gurengan eyes wide and pleading.

Hinata smiled, kneeling to gently set her down. A stray petal had caught in Akko's hair, and she brushed it away with careful fingers.

Naruto leaned in, his grin soft. His hand joined Hinata's over their daughter's head, fingertips brushing hers as they both lingered for a heartbeat longer. His heart swelled with a quiet resolve, a promise that Akko would never have to endure what he had.

"Go," he said, ruffling her hair with practiced affection.

Akko beamed.

Then, in a whirl of pink silk, she spun around, her sandals skimming the stones, and darted off, laughter trailing in her wake. At the edge of the trees, Mirai was already waiting, hopping in place with both arms raised high like victory flags.

Their eyes met, no words needed between best friends. The two girls ran to meet in the middle, feet light, hearts lighter still. Their laughter rang through the trees, bright and untamed. Their hands found each other without thinking, fingers locking with the ease of old friends.

Akko, child of the sun.

Mirai, granddaughter of fire.

Two embers of what came before, blazing ahead into what would come next.

Naruto chuckled softly, watching the girls disappear into the trees.

"Think they'll remember to come back?"

Hinata smiled, her arm slipping around his.

"I waited my whole life for you, Naruto."

She leaned her head gently against his shoulder.

"I don't mind waiting a little longer for them."

The shrine whispered to the past, wrapped in incense and memory. But ahead, the laughter of children echoed through the forest. And beneath the falling petals, something new took root.

A gentler world at last within reach.

End

Post Word: To everyone who made it here—thank you.

Whether you left a comment, offered feedback, shared a kind word, or simply read silently to the end… this story exists because of you.

When I first began writing this, I wasn't sure exactly where it would go—only that I wanted to explore a world where Hinata stood at the center. It ended up unfolding on a much grander scale than I ever expected, but in the end, I always knew I wanted it to return to something quieter. Something smaller. A moment that would honor Hinata's gentle strength.

I chose to end with a wedding not just as a nod to canon, but as a mirror. Just as part two of this story began with a flash-forward, echoing Shippuden, I wanted it to close in a similar way—reflecting the ending we know, while also acknowledging how different this version of the world has become.

Because while I like canon's conclusion—a world united—I also found it, perhaps, a little too peacefully tied in a bow. I wanted to explore something messier. More human. In this story, the war didn't end with a single battle. There were years of growing pains, tensions, border disputes. And yet… the world did not fall apart. It found a fragile balance instead—split, yes, but striving. A world of Yin and Yang. Still at odds, but hopeful.

And I hope Hinata's final choice reflected that. To walk a harder path. To lead with compassion even when the world demanded retribution. That, to me, is her strength.

As for Amaterasu—now Akko—her new name is written as 天子, which would normally be read as Tenko or Amako, but I chose the rarer reading, Akko, because it felt warmer, more innocent. It means "child of heaven," with the first kanji also found in Amaterasu's name. A quiet nod to who she was… and who she may yet become.

It also allowed me one last parallel: Akko's childhood mirroring Naruto's in some ways—but with one crucial difference. She has Hinata. She has Naruto. And they are determined to raise her with love, not fear.

Through Hinata's vow, through Naruto's optimism, through Akko's laughter—I tried to leave behind not just an ending, but a beginning. Not just closure, but hope.

If this story helped inspire you, even for a moment, then I've done what I set out to do.

Thank you for walking this path with me. See you in my next work!