The air in the arena was electric.
Sunlight filtered through the vast coliseum canopy, striking the tiled floor in bars of gold and dust. Every breath seemed to hum with expectation; every heartbeat, every rustle of the crowd echoed like a drumbeat before war.
Ishi sat high in the stands beside Kakashi, posture as calm as ever, blindfold immaculate. To most, he looked detached — a strange boy with a soft smile, expression unreadable. But beneath the cloth, his eyes burned.
He could feel every chakra signature in the arena: tens of thousands of flickering lights layered like stars in motion. Each person, each spark, connected to invisible threads that wove together into a trembling web of color.
And at the center of it — two lights about to clash.
Hinata Hyūga. Neji Hyūga. Cousins, mirrors, diverging fates.
Ishi's lips quirked faintly. Ah… family drama and violence. Classic Leaf entertainment.
Kakashi's voice broke through his thoughts. "You okay?"
"I'm fine," Ishi said. "Just feeling a bit… overexposed. It's loud, you know."
Kakashi tilted his head, gray eye narrowing beneath the headband. "Loud?"
"The world," Ishi murmured. "It keeps screaming at me in color."
Before Kakashi could ask what he meant, the proctor's voice boomed, and the match began.
The Dance of the Hyūga
Neji moved like water. Every strike was perfect geometry, each step the result of years of rigid training and bitterness shaped into grace. His chakra flowed sharp and pure — pale-blue threads whipping through the air.
Hinata was softer. Hesitant. Her chakra was gentle, bright, hesitant like a trembling flame in the wind. But it had warmth.
To most, it looked one-sided — Neji's dominance was absolute.To Ishi, it was something else entirely.
Each hit that landed sent a ripple through Hinata's threads — pain, fear, but also defiance. He could see her courage as light breaking through cracks of self-doubt.
Neji's voice cut through the air."People cannot change their fate."
Ishi's smile faded. The word fate always hit too close.
When Hinata fell to her knees, blood staining her sleeve, Ishi felt a sting beneath his blindfold. The threads around her began to dim.
"Stay down," Neji ordered.
But she didn't. She rose again, shaking, whispering, "Because that's… my ninja way."
Something in those words tugged violently inside Ishi's chest — a sharp pull that wasn't his own will. His heart skipped. He felt his power reacting to her defiance, the web of light trembling around them.
Kakashi turned toward him. "Ishi? What's wrong?"
But Ishi couldn't answer. His head was pounding. He heard whispers again — the same voices from his dreams.
"The thread frays…""The loom must be realigned…""Do not touch it—!"
The Moment of Pause
When Neji's palm lunged for Hinata's chest, Ishi's restraint snapped.
Time broke.
The sound vanished. The wind froze mid-motion, caught like glass in sunlight.Dust hung in the air in perfect stillness.
Ishi stood, trembling, and pulled the blindfold off.
The world erupted.
Every color is split into threads of gold, crimson, and silver. Every soul in the arena shimmered like a suspended constellation. The threads connected, twisted, intersected — infinite strands converging into a single point at the center of the battlefield: Hinata's life.
He stepped forward. Each motion rippled through the still air like ink in water.Neji's palm hovered an inch from Hinata's chest, motionless. A bead of blood drifted midair.
Ishi reached out — fingers brushing the golden thread that represented her heartbeat. It flickered weakly.
"I told myself I wouldn't meddle," he whispered. "But… you don't deserve this end."
He tightened his hand. The thread glowed brighter.The wound that hadn't yet struck — never did.
Reality trembled.
For an instant, he saw everything: every outcome, every branch of possibility — Hinata's death, Hinata's survival, the wars yet to come, Naruto screaming her name in grief, the fox breaking free, the world drowning in light.
And through all of it, one voice echoed — R.O.B.'s voice, faint, mocking, divine.
"See what the gods blinded. Blind what the gods made to see."
The power surged. Ishi's eyes blazed gold and black, swirling with runic circles of impossible design. A faint halo of light ringed him, spinning faster, faster—
And then—
The World Resumes
The sound of impact shattered the silence.
Neji stumbled backward, eyes wide, as if struck by an unseen force. His chakra lines flickered erratically. He fell to one knee, gasping.
Hinata was still standing.
The crowd exploded with noise. Shouts. Confusion. Applause. No one knew what had happened. Only Kakashi saw the faint glow fade from Ishi's eyes before he swayed, collapsing forward.
Kakashi caught him just before he hit the floor. His pulse was weak. Blood traced thin lines beneath the blindfold.
"Ishi!" Kakashi hissed. "What did you—"
"I… adjusted the script," Ishi murmured faintly, half-smiling through exhaustion. "Badly written scene. Needed editing."
He coughed, a smear of red on his hand. "Tell the Hokage… I think I broke something."
Then he went limp.
Later: A Glimpse in the Dark
That night, far from the village, deep underground — a different kind of light shimmered.
A pool of black water rippled as a cloaked figure leaned over it. Through its surface, they had seen everything: the blindfolded boy, the pause of time, the golden halo.
"He awakens," said a voice, smooth and cold."The False Prophet walks the timeline."
Around the pool, masked silhouettes knelt in reverence.
"The Loom shivers," whispered another. "Our god stirs."
In the water's reflection, Ishi's golden-black eyes gleamed for just an instant, staring back at them.
The pool cracked.
Epilogue – The Weight of Power
Ishi woke in a white bed, the smell of antiseptic and faint smoke in the air.His body ached — not from wounds, but from existence itself. Chakra lines burned under his skin like molten gold.
He turned his head and saw Kakashi slumped in a chair beside him, asleep with a book over his face.
A small smile tugged at Ishi's lips. "Persistent," he murmured.
Outside, the evening bells rang.
He stared at the ceiling. The blindfold rested loosely around his neck, light filtering through half-lidded eyes that shimmered like the edge of dawn.
He knew now — this world's fate was no longer the one he'd watched as a fan.It was alive, changing, spiraling in ways even he couldn't fully see.
And somewhere, far beyond the horizon, something watched back.
"See what the gods blinded… blind what the gods made to see."
End of Chapter 4 – Threads of Fate