Neji gently rubbed Yugito's arm and said quietly, "Captain, you can help me if you stay."
Yugito's golden eyes blinked, curiosity flashing. "What do you need me to do?" she asked immediately, her tone serious.
Neji unrolled a large map across the table, spreading it flat. He circled a specific area with a red pen and looked up with a grave expression. "After I begin my operation, I'll need you to create a Shadow Clone to impersonate me. Let the clone wander here—" he tapped the circled region, "—to act as cover for me. As long as they think I'm moving about normally, I'll have the freedom to proceed."
Yugito nodded firmly. "Understood."
---
Hyuga Clan Grounds, Hiashi's Residence Training Room
"Byakugan, activate!"
The clear, resonant command echoed through the training hall.
Two young girls—Hinata and Hanabi—stood facing one another. Their pale eyes dilated, veins bulging faintly at the corners as they simultaneously activated their Byakugan. Their slender legs parted slightly, settling into the opening stance of the Gentle Fist.
Hanabi clenched her fists tightly, her childish voice carrying determination. "Sister, I'm coming!"
Hinata swallowed nervously, her gaze soft yet resolute. "I'm ready, Hanabi."
The moment the words left her lips, Hanabi inhaled deeply, steadied her body, and lunged forward. Her palms thrust out in rapid succession, each strike fast and precise.
From the side of the room, Hyuga Gensuke, an elder of the clan, watched intently. A faint smile curved his lips as he murmured, "Hanabi, that child… she truly has talent."
Indeed, though Hanabi was only three and a half years old, her movements already carried hints of maturity. Her footwork was light, her palms struck with decisiveness. For one so young, it was remarkable.
To be fair, Hinata—nearly two years older—performed acceptably. But "acceptable" was hardly enough for the heiress of the Hyuga Main Family. When measured against her position, her performance seemed… disappointing.
Hiashi, standing tall and silent at the edge of the tatami mats, narrowed his eyes as he observed his eldest daughter. His brow furrowed ever so slightly, and disappointment flickered across his otherwise calm features.
Hinata's innate ability was not necessarily worse than Hanabi's. But her nature… timid, hesitant… undermined everything. In battle, her fists lacked decisiveness, her steps dragged just a fraction too slow, and she never pressed for victory with determination.
The Gentle Fist was elegant, yes, but also ruthless. Each transition, each strike, carried a merciless intent to cut down the opponent by shutting down their chakra pathways. To wield it properly required a certain cold resolve.
Hinata lacked that ruthlessness.
Her Gentle Fist possessed the outer form but none of the spirit. Against a true master, her movements would be little more than a decorative performance—pleasing to watch, but empty in power.
What disheartened Hiashi most was not simply her lack of martial ferocity. It was her entire character. A person's nature determined the path they could walk. Hinata was gentle, kindhearted, compassionate to a fault.
As a medical ninja, such qualities would be a blessing. She could heal, nurture, and become indispensable. But as the future leader of the Hyuga Clan? Such softness would lead only to disaster.
Bang!
A dull thud broke his thoughts.
Hinata had faltered. For a brief instant she lost focus, and Hanabi's small foot struck her shoulder squarely. Knocked off balance, Hinata tumbled to the mat with a soft cry, her body trembling as she tried to regain control.
Hanabi, startled, froze in place before rushing toward her sister, arms reaching out. She had expected Hinata to dodge—surely her sister would avoid such a simple kick. Yet Hinata's step had been half a beat too slow, and she had taken the blow directly.
"Hanabi," Hiashi's cold voice rang out. "Let her get up on her own."
Hanabi halted instantly, lips pressed together. She lowered her hands and stood quietly, watching her sister with concern but not daring to disobey.
Hinata pressed one hand to the mat and struggled upward, her breaths uneven.
From the side, Hyuga Gensuke's gaze softened. He sighed heavily, then turned and left the training hall without another word.
Hiashi's eyes lingered on Hinata a moment longer, his face unreadable. At last he said coldly, "Today's training will be doubled. You cannot rest until you complete it."
Hinata bit her lip, lowered her head, and whispered, "Yes… Father."
---
Hiashi's Living Quarters
Later, Hiashi sat in the quiet living room, fingers steepled as he contemplated. His voice was low but heavy.
"Father, Hinata's temperament is too timid. She will not become the pillar we need. Hanabi, though not yet four, already shows extraordinary promise. Her Gentle Fist is firm, her resolve clear…" He hesitated, then added slowly, "In truth, Hanabi has more right to inherit leadership of the clan than Hinata."
Hyuga Gensuke's aged face creased as he sighed deeply. "Hiashi, I understand your worries. But to discard the elder and raise the younger… that path leads only to chaos. It must not be done."
His tone grew sharp. "If we set such a precedent, every gifted younger sibling will scheme against the elder in the future. The Branch Family, oppressed by the Caged Bird Seal, may seize such conflict as an excuse to rebel. When that happens, the foundation our clan has built for a thousand years will crumble."
Hiashi fell silent for a long time. Finally, he nodded slightly. "Then our only choice is to find Hinata a strong protector among the Branch Family… a loyal shield to compensate for her weaknesses."
His mind flickered with regret. Hyuga Neji had once been the perfect candidate—brilliant, disciplined, devoted. But Neji had been captured by Kumogakure shinobi. That path was gone.
Hiashi's expression hardened, his gaze clouded with struggle and pain before sharpening with a dangerous glint.
At that moment, Hyuga Gensuke asked coldly, "Hiashi, how does the Hokage intend to deal with the traitor Hyuga Neji?"
Hiashi's eyes narrowed. "Neji's identity is… sensitive. He has the protection of the Two-Tails Jinchuriki. If we mishandle the matter, it could spark a diplomatic crisis. Hokage-sama intends to act during the upcoming Chunin Exams."
He did not say the words directly, but the implication was clear: Neji was to be eliminated.
For decades, the structure of the Chunin Exams had been unchanged. The first exam—a written test. The second—the Heaven and Earth Scroll battle in the Forest of Death. The third—a public arena tournament.
Of these, the second exam offered ample opportunities for "accidents." Within that vast, perilous forest, death was common and rarely questioned.
Gensuke's eye gleamed sharply. He muttered with a chilling satisfaction, "So, the Forest of Death will become the graveyard for that broken Caged Bird Seal. Soon, the clan will cleanse its shame."
---
At Dusk – Fukuroku Street
As the sun dipped low, Hiashi, trailed by two attendants, left the clan compound and walked to the edge of the village. Fukuroku Street lay there—lined with shops, lanterns flickering as evening descended.
Among them stood a small izakaya. Its exterior was humble, plain, almost shabby. Yet within its unassuming walls was a haven for men of power. Nobles, merchants, shinobi captains—all came here in secret.
The food spanned the cuisines of all Five Nations. The sake was shipped from the far-off Land of Water. And the geishas… they sang in voices that melted the heart, their waists slender as reeds.
But above all, discretion was guaranteed. Here, one could remove the mask of status and indulge freely. No whispers ever escaped these walls.
As Hiashi entered, the female attendant bowed gracefully. "Hiashi-sama, shall I prepare the usual?"
Hiashi waved her off without reply and strode down the winding corridor with his servants. Though the exterior was plain, the interior glittered with luxury. Paintings of beasts, birds, sun, and stars adorned the walls. Every corner whispered of decadence.
Finally, Hiashi slid open a shoji door. Inside was a modest four-and-a-half-mat room, a low table in the center, cushions neatly arranged. The walls bore seasonal landscapes—spring blossoms, summer rivers, autumn leaves, winter snow. A small garden could be glimpsed through the window, carefully landscaped, serene.
Snacks and sake were delivered, two geishas summoned. The door slid shut again.
Yet even as the women poured sake gracefully, Hiashi barely looked at them. His thoughts were heavy, his heart unsettled.
Rumors had spread through the village—that Hyuga Hizashi, his twin, had not died honorably, but had been sacrificed by the Main Family. Hiashi could feel the stares, hear the whispers when he walked the streets.
Lifting his cup, he drained it in one swallow, muttering bitterly, "Neji… why did you return from the Hidden Cloud? Why not remain there, safe? Why come back to die…"
---
Outside the Izakaya
Hyuga Gensuke arrived quietly, his footsteps measured. The female attendant hurried forward with a bow. "Gensuke-sama, you've arrived."
The old man's clear eye glinted. "Where is Hiashi?"
"In the upstairs room, Gensuke-sama. Please allow me to lead you—"
"No need. Just tell me where, and I will go myself."
He strode forward, the wooden floor creaking under his steps. At the corner ahead, two Branch Family servants stood guard.
"Gensuke-sama?" they greeted, surprised. "Why have you come?"
They wondered silently. An elder of his age, visiting such a place?
Gensuke's voice rasped. "Is Hiashi inside?"
"Yes, Gensuke-sama. He entered less than half an hour ago."
"Very good."
Steel flashed. A spray of crimson painted the shoji. The two guards collapsed wordlessly, headless bodies twitching.
Gensuke shook the blood from his blade, grasped the shoji, and yanked it open.
"Who's there?"
Hiashi, startled, frowned. The haze of drink lifted as his gaze fixed on the figure at the doorway.
The man was young—no more than twenty-three or twenty-four. His features were sharp, his build tall, his face… his face was Hiashi's own reflection.
No, not merely similar. Identical.
"You… you are… Hizashi?" Hiashi stammered, trembling.
The two geishas gasped, pale with terror. Hizashi—dead for two years—stood before them, blood dripping from his blade.
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