POV Hiashi Hyūga:
The hour was deep in the night, that still pocket of time when even the wind seems hesitant to disturb the world. The Hyūga compound lay cloaked in darkness, paper lanterns long extinguished, corridors silent save for the distant creak of old wood settling. I had not slept—not since the day of my daughter's birth.
For three days I had confined myself to the archives, my desk buried under brittle scrolls, cracked bamboo tubes, old leather-bound ledgers, and delicate paper journals whose ink had faded to the color of dried tea. The smell of aged parchment, the faint tang of ink, and the dry, almost papery taste of dust in the air had become my constant companions. By lamplight I sifted through family annals and obscure diary fragments, cross-referencing dates and incidents, piecing together timelines like an investigator following the faintest trail. I read cramped handwriting that spoke of births and coming-of-age ceremonies, records of training milestones, and the rare marvel of prodigious children. I searched for patterns in marginal notes, for forgotten mentions of exceptional sight in infancy. Every creased page seemed to carry a whisper from some long-dead relative, but nowhere—nowhere—could I find an account of a child awakening the Byakugan at such an impossibly young age.
The elders had told me that what we had witnessed at Hinata's birth was without precedent. I wanted proof. I wanted certainty.
What I found was… confirmation, though it did little to settle my mind. Accounts scattered through clan journals spoke of prodigious children who had activated their Byakugan without instruction—always between the ages of two and three, never before. A handful were mentioned by name, their lives chronicled in detail. All had grown into formidable shinobi, respected and sometimes feared for their insight and skill.
There were patterns, too. Those who awakened so young tended to possess an unusually large chakra pool for their age and a broader Byakugan range—medium to long distance—right from their first proper use. Some could see as far at eight years old as an ordinary Hyūga could at fifteen.
But never, in all the careful, meticulous records of our clan, had a newborn activated the Byakugan on the day of their birth.
I was rubbing my temple, considering the implications for our future training regimen, when a soft knock at the door broke the stillness.
"Clan Head," came a low, urgent voice from the other side, "I have an important report regarding Lady Hinata."
I recognized it immediately—Sōta, one of the pair assigned to guard Hinata and Hikari. He and his sister, Sōka, had been at their post without incident for the past three days. For him to approach me in the middle of the night meant something… unusual.
"Enter," I said.
The paper door slid open, and Sōta stepped inside, closing it carefully behind him. He moved to one knee in front of me, head bowed low in the respectful posture of a subordinate before his leader.
"Report," I said, keeping my tone even. "What is so urgent that you disturb me at this hour?"
"Clan Head," Sōta began, his voice steady but carrying a faint edge of disbelief, "please forgive the intrusion. It concerns Lady Hinata. We observed her awaken a short while ago. Her chakra levels were again approaching the point at which her Byakugan has activated these past days. But this time… she acted differently."
I leaned forward slightly, my attention sharpened. "Explain."
"She began manipulating her chakra—deliberately. Not simply letting it pool as before, but directing it. At first, it was subtle, small adjustments as if testing the flow. Then, Clan Head…" Sōta hesitated, searching for the right words. "…She altered her tenketsu. She constricted and released them in a way I have only seen in the training of much older children."
I blinked, unsure I had heard him correctly. "Are you saying… she learned to control the chakra flow to her eyes?"
Sōta's gaze lifted, his expression deadly serious. "Yes, Clan Head. She appeared to be restricting the flow, holding it back. And then, when she chose, she released it. We saw the Byakugan activate—cleanly, deliberately—and then deactivate just as smoothly. No signs of strain, no accidental collapse. She repeated this multiple times, adjusting the flow as though… as though she had been taught."
My mind raced. Three days old.
Three days… and she had discovered what it took most of our children weeks—months—to grasp, even with direct instruction.
"How do you know she could activate it again at will?" I asked, forcing myself to keep my voice measured.
"We watched her, Clan Head," Sōta replied. "It was identical to the opening and closing exercises of the youngling regimen. She would open the tenketsu near her eyes, the Byakugan would flare to life, and then she would close them again. This continued until, three minutes ago, her chakra output dropped sharply. She appeared fatigued and fell asleep."
I sat back slowly, letting the weight of his words settle.
My daughter… had, at three days old, accomplished something most could not do before their fifth year. The kind of talent—no, instinct—that could change the expectations of an entire clan.
It was pride that swelled in me first, sudden and fierce. But pride was quickly tempered by caution. Power without discipline could draw attention we were not ready for her to face. The village… other clans… even within our own.
I met Sōta's gaze again. "You will arrange a replacement for yourself and your sister immediately. When relieved, both of you are to come directly to me. Not a word of this leaves those who have already witnessed it."
"Yes, Clan Head." He bowed deeply, then withdrew as quietly as he had come.
The door slid shut with a soft click, leaving me once again alone with the silent weight of the archives. I glanced at the open ledger before me, its inked names and dates suddenly feeling less like history and more like a challenge.
Three days old.