Byakugan stared down Sharingan.
Eight against one hundred twenty. Shadow-level puppeteer. Three Xuechi brothers with bloodline techniques that made grown men scream.
The math was simple. Brutal. Final.
The seven branch family members formed a tight circle around Hizashi Hyūga—main family, heir to the clan head, his eyes worth more than all their lives combined. Protocol was absolute: he died last. If he died at all.
"Hizashi." Hiashi's whisper barely carried over the rustling tent fabric. "I'll create an opening. You run."
A pause. Both brothers knew the odds.
"If I can't..." Hiashi's voice dropped even lower. "You know what you have to do."
The resolve befitting main family.
Hizashi's jaw tightened. For branch family, death meant a quick blade across the throat. Clean. Almost merciful. But main family? They had to destroy their own eyes first. Gouge them out. Crush them. Make absolutely certain the Byakugan died with them.
He nodded once.
Hiashi turned toward their captors, specifically the red-haired puppeteer lounging against a supply crate. "Sasori of the Red Sand."
"Mm?" Sasori's smile was lazy. Amused. "You know me. How flattering."
"Your reputation precedes you." Hiashi's voice carried across the clearing. "I've wanted to test myself against Sunagakure's finest for years. Since you've caught us..." His chin lifted. "I'm not satisfied. I challenge you. One on one. Winner takes all—including life and death."
Several Suna-nin chuckled.
Sasori's eyebrows rose. "The Hyūga really do have balls. I'll give you that." His head tilted. "What's your name?"
"Hyūga main family." Hiashi's voice rang clear. "Hizashi Hyūga."
The real Hizashi went rigid. Started to speak—
A hand clamped his arm. "Don't," someone breathed. "Don't make it meaningless."
"Ah. Main family." Sasori's grin widened. "That explains the spine. Tell you what—straight sparring's boring. Let's make it interesting. Add stakes."
"If I win, you let my men go. I stay. You can do whatever you want with me."
The refusal came instantly.
"Your life's not worth seven others. I'll give you one. One survivor besides yourself."
Hiashi's throat worked. "...Fine. One."
"And when you lose?"
"I gouge out my own eyes. Hand them over personally."
Sasori actually laughed. "You realize I can just kill you and take them anyway, right?"
"No." Hiashi shook his head. "The Hyūga learned our lesson generations ago. We have... protections. Seals. Unless I'm willing, you get nothing but dead tissue."
The laughter died.
Sasori's expression went flat. "Is that so."
He pulled out a scroll. Didn't even look at Hiashi.
"Gaojin. Gaoyi. Gaoao." His voice was bored. "Kill them all."
Hiashi's face went white. "Wait—you—"
"You coward!" The words tore out of him. "You don't even have the courage to face me! You call yourself a ninja? You're pathetic—"
"Kid." Sasori examined his fingernails. "I don't have time for your honor-duel bullshit. We're at war, not some tournament arc. Besides..." He finally met Hiashi's eyes. "My appearance fee's expensive. No money, no show."
The scroll ignited.
Smoke cleared to reveal a puppet—massive, easily seven feet tall, muscles carved in exaggerated detail. Twin crescent axes gleamed in its hands. A single character blazed across its chest: 金 (Gold).
"Meet Yaojin." Sasori's smile returned. "Dying to him's an honor. You're welcome."
He waved one hand.
Chakra erupted in a sphere of absolute defense. The signature Hyūga technique—nothing penetrated the Eight Trigrams Rotation. Nothing.
Yaojin's axe tore through it like tissue paper.
The puppet moved like liquid—impossibly fast for something that size, axes whirling in patterns that shouldn't exist. One Hyūga went down. Then another. The branch family fought with everything they had—Gentle Fist strikes that could stop hearts, precision that came from lifetimes of training.
It wasn't enough.
It was never enough.
Blood sprayed. Screams cut short. The Suna-nin closed in like wolves, and the Hyūga formation shattered.
Hiashi felt the axe bite into his chest—felt ribs crack—felt the world tilt sideways as darkness swallowed everything.
Pain dragged him back.
His chest was on fire. Every breath felt like drowning. The camp was empty now—just corpses scattered across blood-soaked earth.
His forehead protector lay in the dirt three feet away.
Hiashi crawled. Ribs screamed protest. Blood loss made the world swim. He crawled anyway.
Found his brother.
The head was nearly severed—just skin connecting it to the body. All the blood was gone. And the eyes—
Empty sockets. Ragged holes where the Byakugan should be.
"No. No no no—" Hiashi pulled the body against him, something breaking in his chest that had nothing to do with broken bones. "SASORI!" The scream tore his throat raw. "I'LL KILL YOU! I SWEAR I'LL—"
But Sasori was already gone.
They were all gone.
Just Hiashi and the dead.
"You're certain he said Waterfall Country?"
Danzō stood over the hospital bed, eye boring into Hiashi's face.
"Yes." The word came out strangled. "He said—going to Waterfall Country for dinner. I'm certain."
Danzō said nothing for a long moment. Just... thought.
Finally: "Rest. This wasn't your fault. I'll handle the Hyūga elders—you won't be punished."
"But I—" Hiashi's voice cracked. "I couldn't protect him. Hizashi died because of me—"
"I understand." Danzō turned toward the door. "I have a meeting—"
Hiashi's hand shot out, grabbed Danzō's sleeve. "Please. Let me fight. I need to—I have to avenge—"
Danzō ripped his arm free.
"I understand your feelings." His voice could've frozen fire. "I despise your thinking."
Hiashi recoiled.
"Four broken ribs. Thirty percent blood loss. You can barely breathe right now, much less fight." Danzō's eye was merciless. "Going to the battlefield makes you a liability. Liabilities get people killed. That's not revenge—that's murder of your own comrades."
The words hit like physical blows.
"Cooperate with the medics. Heal. Get strong enough to actually be useful." Danzō's expression softened—barely. "The intelligence you brought back is valuable. When the time comes..."
He met Hiashi's eyes.
"I'll bring you Sasori's head myself."
The door closed behind him.
Hiashi lay in the dark, staring at nothing, his brother's empty eye sockets burned into his mind.
I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.
I should have been the one.
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