Naruto: The White-eyed Demon

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Time: 5:00 PM | Location: ABC Corporation, Downtown Chicago

Raigo Tenku sat hunched over his desk, the cold glow of the computer screen reflecting off the dark circles that clung stubbornly beneath his eyes. His usually sharp, well-kept appearance had eroded over the past 36 sleepless hours. The beard that shadowed his chin was untrimmed, giving him the look of a man worn by time and forgotten by rest.

But none of that showed on his face.

He had trained himself long ago to wear composure like armor—firm jawline, neutral eyes, unshaken breath. Even when everything inside him begged for collapse.

He had just clicked "Save" on the last document for the day, his fingers trembling slightly as they hovered over the keyboard. Slowly, he stood and reached for his bag, slinging it over one shoulder like a soldier sheathing his weapon after battle. Today was supposed to be over. He had earned the right to go home, collapse on his mattress, and sleep until time itself paused.

And then, from across the open office, came the voice. Bright, cheerful, and altogether too loud.

"Rig!"

Raigo blinked slowly, letting out a breath that was more sigh than air.

David.

David Elliot Walker. Nephew to Gregory Walker, the managing director of ABC Corporation. Tall, sharply dressed, hair like it had been combed by angels, and a grin so wide it could eclipse the sun. He had that kind of charisma that people gravitated toward—maybe it was his family name, maybe it was the expensive cologne, maybe it was just that blinding confidence.

David approached with his usual swagger, one hand already raised in greeting, the other holding a paper cup of coffee he wasn't going to finish.

"What is it this time?" Raigo muttered, not even bothering to mask the irritation in his voice.

David gave a sheepish smile. "Actually, I haven't finished a few of my files today. But, I have to head out early. My frie—"

"David! Come fast, it's getting late for the show!" a woman's voice called out from the hallway—Natalie, the HR executive who had been throwing hearts at David all month.

David turned on his heel. "Raigo, I can only count on you! Please finish it, I owe you one!"

And he was gone before Raigo could even curse.

Raigo stood there, bag in hand, blinking. Then, with a deep exhale, he placed his bag back down, shoulders slumping with the weight of his unspoken thoughts.

"One day's worth of files?" he mumbled to himself. "That idiot would take a day. I can finish in an hour."

He wasn't boasting. Raigo had the pedigree to back up his arrogance. Top scorer in the SATs. Graduate from the most prestigious university in the U.S. A list of published research papers in economic systems and corporate psychology. He'd once been scouted by a think tank in Japan. He'd turned it down to stay here—biggest mistake of his life, maybe.

But none of it mattered now.

All of that, and he was still the guy people dumped work on.

He set the alarm on his phone for 30 minutes. Just a nap. That's all he needed.

5:30 PM

The shrill ring of the alarm pierced the stale air of the office.

Raigo woke with a groan. His neck ached, his eyes stung, and he still hadn't slept nearly enough to fix the throb behind his skull. Yawning, he dragged himself to David's desk, expecting a few neat folders.

What he found instead jolted him fully awake.

Ten towering stacks of paperwork, each at least an inch thick. Digital files blinking on David's terminal—untouched, unorganized.

Raigo's mouth hung open. His brain scrambled for words, for logic, for something—anything—that could explain this betrayal.

"You son of a—" he started, then hit the chair with a palm, sending it rolling into a filing cabinet.

Pulling out a cigarette—strictly against company policy—he lit it without a second thought. The smoke curled above his head like a ghost of his lost patience.

He pulled out his phone and dialed.

"Hello, David? You said it was just today's work. But here there's—"

"Hello? Hell—Yo—no—aud—" came the garbled response, background noise roaring like a concert.

And then, nothing.

Call dropped.

Of course.

Raigo stared at the mountain of work. He could leave. Just walk away. No one could blame him.

But they would. Somehow, they would.

Because he was the quiet one. The foreign one. The genius who never spoke about his past. The one with no uncle in the upper floor.

He took a long drag from the cigarette and rolled up his sleeves.

6:15 PM

Talia Monroe, the floor supervisor and head of Operations, was doing a final sweep before she left. She paused by Raigo's desk, raising an eyebrow.

"You're still here?" she asked. Her voice wasn't cold, but it wasn't friendly either.

Raigo didn't look up. "Finishing up David's queue."

Talia glanced at the files. Her lips tightened. She didn't say anything for a long moment.

"You know you're not obligated to clean up his mess."

Raigo gave a slight shrug. "I'm not. But if I don't, he'll just say I left things incomplete."

Talia nodded slowly, as if she understood—but didn't agree. "I'll make a note of it in the logs. Don't stay too late."

He offered a weak "Thanks," but she was already walking away.

6:45 PM

Gregory Walker, the boss himself, exited his office with coat in hand. The man looked like a retired navy admiral—silver hair, pristine suit, eyes that cut like steel. He paused near the elevator and noticed the only light still on in the sea of cubicles.

He walked over.

"You're still working, Raigo?"

Raigo nodded.

"That David's queue?"

Another nod.

Gregory's eyes narrowed ever so slightly. "You didn't need to pick that up."

Raigo looked up this time. "No one else was going to."

Gregory paused. "I see."

There was a silence between them. Heavy. Complicated.

"Good work ethic," Gregory said finally, then turned and left.

But he never said "thank you."

8:00 PM

It was past dark now. The city outside glowed through the tall office windows, casting long shadows. Raigo had removed his jacket, rolled his sleeves, and was tearing through the backlog like a machine. Excel sheets. Inventory reports. Team logs. Budget reviews.

He was fast, meticulous, and brilliant.

But tired.

He slouched in his chair, rubbing his face. Just as he leaned back, he heard footsteps.

From behind the corner emerged someone unexpected—Lena Carter.

She was a marketing associate, usually quiet and tucked into the back end of the office with the creative team. Tonight, she held a bag of food and two cups of hot tea.

"I heard you were still here," she said, placing the food on his desk.

Raigo blinked. "How did you—"

"I saw the email logs. David clocked out early. His work was still pending. You showed up on the internal tracker."

She smiled, but it wasn't pity. It was solidarity.

"You shouldn't have to carry all this."

Raigo stared at her. Then, softly, almost inaudibly, he said, "I don't have a choice."

Lena pulled up a chair beside him.

"Then let me help."

Later That Night

Together, they worked in silence. Occasionally, they spoke—about music, about cities they'd never been to, about the pressure to prove yourself when no one remembers your name.

As they filed the last report, Raigo leaned back.

"Do you think anyone will even notice?"

Lena looked at him.

"I noticed."

And for the first time in what felt like years, Raigo Tenku was tired but smiled.

Not because he'd finished the work. Not because someone finally acknowledged it.

But because for once, he didn't feel invisible.

Somewhere Else | The Concert

David danced with Natalie under blinding lights, posting selfies, tagging the company, smiling for a life he didn't build.

He never noticed the phone buzzing in his coat.

---

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It was 3:30 a.m. when I finally leaned back in my chair, my muscles aching, joints stiff like rusted iron. My eyes, sunken and ringed with purple shadows, blinked slowly. I had finished David's ten-day load of work in a single night. The office lights above flickered as if in sync with my fading pulse.

I pushed myself up, wobbling like a marionette cut from its strings. My knees buckled momentarily, and I caught myself against the desk. My fingertips were cold. My breath felt thin. I slung my bag over my shoulder, heavier than it had any right to be, and made for the door.

The world outside was a void—quiet, eerie, painted in the silvery hue of the moon and splashes of neon signs that blinked into nothing. The street was mostly empty. Just me, flickering streetlamps, a few sleeping homeless souls curled under threadbare blankets, and the distant howling of dogs.

Every step I took was deliberate, but my mind was foggy. I could barely see straight, and everything began to blur. Still, I whispered to myself, "Almost there… almost home."

I don't know how much time passed. Maybe minutes. Maybe hours. Maybe none at all.

Then—clang.

My foot hit something metallic. I tripped. My body fell forward like a collapsing pillar, and I crashed onto the pavement. There was no strength left in me to scream or even gasp. The chill of the ground crawled up my spine as the darkness rushed in.

Then—nothing.

A Lifetime in a Second

I don't know how long I was gone. But the moment the void took me, something strange happened.

I remembered everything.From my childhood scraped knees to graduation day.From awkward school dances to my first kiss.From my mother's quiet smile to the suffocating pressure of expectation.From moments of joy… to all the times I was overlooked, underestimated, and left alone.

I remembered everything. With painful clarity.

And then, a thud—not in my body, but in my mind. A gentle tug, like being pulled through layers of space itself.

I opened my eyes—or at least, it felt like I did.

The Presence

I stood—somehow—on a vast, infinite plane. No ground, no sky. Just a never-ending expanse of white and light.

In front of me was a being. Tall, robed in flowing threads that shimmered like liquid starlight, eyes like galaxies. His presence wasn't loud or commanding. It was silent, still. Calm. Like the end of time.

I stared at him, unblinking. I didn't bow. I didn't tremble.

Instead, I spoke.

"I knew it. A being like you had to exist. Something outside the containment of space and time… a higher-dimensional entity, beyond entropy. One that can create and destroy from nothing."

The god tilted his head, curious. He had seen many souls. Billions, maybe trillions. But not many who greeted him with analysis instead of awe.

"You are surprisingly composed," he said. His voice was not heard. It arrived directly in my mind. "You're not surprised?"

"I'm a man of science," I said. "And I've always believed that, logically, something had to exist at the origin of consciousness. Something that bridges cause and effect with choice and freedom. An architect, a guardian—or maybe just a cosmic bystander."

He nodded. "Fascinating. You are… average, karmically speaking. Not cruel, not kind. Not lazy, not driven. You've lived quietly, passed unnoticed, and died alone. Your karmic record is… neutral."

Ouch. But fair.

"You may reincarnate into another world," the god continued. "Standard package: healthy body, solid stamina and durability, ability to retain memories. But nothing exceptional unless you ask for one gift—and even that has limits."

I was quiet for a while.

"…Can I choose where or who I'm born as?"

"No."

That stung, but I had suspected as much. A truly divine being wouldn't micromanage free will.

So I asked the next question.

"I choose the Naruto world."

He blinked slowly. "Interesting. You and many others, it seems."

"And," I said, carefully, "I want Ōtsutsuki powers."

The god… laughed.

Not cruelly. But genuinely, like an old man watching a child claim the moon.

"Even the most exceptional souls—the ones with lives of sacrifice, greatness, and profound karma—don't get Ōtsutsuki powers," he said. "At best, they get Naruto-level talent. You ask for a divine inheritance with an average record."

"I figured you'd say that," I replied. "I asked to see your reaction. And now I know your boundary conditions."

The god chuckled again. "Clever."

I wasn't done. "Then I want something different. Something meaningful. I want True Eyes—eyes that let me perceive truth, deception, knowledge, and intelligence."

The god's gaze sharpened.

"With these, I can learn everything about the world. I'll see through lies, understand nature energy, correct my training in real time, and more. I don't need raw power if I can comprehend everything better than anyone else."

A pause. Then a nod.

"It is… within limits. Granted."

My body began to unravel. My form, my thoughts, my name—they started to dissolve like mist in morning light. I felt myself falling, being pulled into some distant star, a world I once knew only through a screen and pages.

As I faded, I asked one last question. "Will I remember this conversation?"

"Only vaguely," the god said. "In dreams. In instinct. You'll know you are different. That will be enough."

And so I fell.

---

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A light. Dim. Fuzzy.

Raigo opened his eyes—or tried to. His eyelids felt heavy, almost glued together, but curiosity overcame fatigue. His field of vision swam in haze and motion. Everything around him felt enormous, and the ceiling looked like it had been pulled straight out of a historical drama. The scent of incense and the subtle musk of wood smoke drifted in the air.

He saw… rice paper walls. Tatami mats. A flickering candle casting soft shadows across the room. Soft footsteps. Whispering voices.

Traditional Japanese architecture? he thought, sluggishly. That looks like shoji… and tatami…

Three midwives moved gracefully around the room, their kimonos rustling softly as they checked on the mother and baby. No electric lights. No monitors. No buzzing hospital equipment. No sterile metal tools. Just towels, warm water, and gentle hands.

Multiple attendants… traditional setting… attentive care… His mind processed slowly but with intensity. I'm being treated carefully. Respectfully.

Must be born into a high-status family.

Despite being cradled in soft cloth, his infant body twitched occasionally—eyes darting, limbs tensing. A surveillance drone masquerading as a newborn.

But his system couldn't keep up. The sensory input, the attempt at logic, the strange new signals of a reborn brain overwhelmed him. His mind screamed to stay awake, to continue assessing—but biology betrayed him. The massive neural load hit like a wall.

System shutting down…

His thoughts faded as he slipped into sleep.

Meanwhile, Outside the Room…

Hizashi Hyuga paced with military precision, his sandals whispering against the wooden floorboards. Each turn was sharp. Calculated. Yet his calm exterior did little to conceal the anxiety burning underneath.

The corridor was dim, lit only by lanterns that flickered with soft light. The silence beyond the shoji doors grew heavier with each passing second.

Why haven't I heard a cry yet? Why is there no sound? he thought, jaw tightening.

His knuckles were pale from how tightly he clenched his fists. He pressed a hand to the wall, trying to steady his breath. Sweat rolled down his neck, but he barely noticed.

Then, the door slid open with a rustle.

"Lord Hizashi, please come in," one of the midwives said softly, her voice calm and warm.

He nearly broke form, rushing inside with uncharacteristic urgency.

His wife lay on the futon, face pale but peaceful. Her dark hair clung to her forehead with sweat, and a sheen of exertion covered her skin. But in her arms, swaddled in a thick white cloth, lay a small, quiet bundle.

She turned to him, eyes glistening.

"He's a boy," she whispered, voice trembling with joy. "A beautiful baby boy."

Hizashi froze. He stared at the bundle. He took a slow step forward, then another. His hand reached out, shaking.

"I… I have a son?" he breathed, voice cracking.

She nodded, her lips parting in a smile. "He's healthy… but he didn't cry."

One of the midwives laughed gently. "Not even once. He just… looked around. Studying everything. Like a tiny scholar."

As if on cue, the baby stirred. The cloth shifted slightly, revealing a pair of pale eyes, wide and strangely intense. Their gaze met Hizashi's.

For a moment, time stilled.

Those eyes… so sharp already. It's not the Byakugan—he's too young. But that clarity…

The baby blinked slowly, then looked to the side, then up at the ceiling.

Hizashi crouched beside his wife and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, his expression softening.

"He looks just like you," she said, brushing the child's cheek.

"And just like Hiashi," Hizashi added, smiling faintly. "But maybe… hopefully, he takes more after me in spirit."

"Would you like to name him?" she asked.

Hizashi looked at her. All the worry from earlier drained out of him like mist. His expression grew serious.

"No," he said gently. "You should name him. You carried him. You brought him into this world. This honor is yours."

Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. She looked down at the child and whispered, "Neji. Neji Hyuga."

Neji… Hyuga.

Raigo's mind buzzed faintly as the name echoed in the chambers of his reborn consciousness. Something stirred.

That sounds familiar. Neji… from Naruto? The thought sparked a flicker of memory. Wasn't he… the one who talked about destiny? And fate?

The gears in his mind turned slowly, sluggishly, like a rusted machine forced into motion. He couldn't grasp the full picture. Names, faces, scenes—all just out of reach. His memories of the anime were hazy, half-forgotten from years of adult life and burnout. But this name—Neji—stuck out. Tragic. Bitter. Resigned to fate… and yet he died protecting someone.

He… died, didn't he? Protecting… someone important. I remember sadness.

Was it Naruto? Hinata? He couldn't tell. It was like trying to recall a dream after waking up.

But the emotion—yes, he remembered that. Neji's life had weight. His death had meaning. And now… Raigo was him.

------------------------------------------------

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--------

 

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---

So I've been reborn as Neji Hyuga?

He didn't know how to react. There was no elation. No despair. Just… a quiet gravity. A sense of inherited purpose.

I remember the speeches. About fate and destiny. About being caged…

He turned his eyes once again to the woman—his mother now—and the man with sharp, proud features kneeling beside her. Hizashi Hyuga. His father.

They looked down at him with a mixture of awe, love, and something else. Expectation?

They don't know what's ahead. What's supposed to happen to me. What might happen to them. But I do. Sort of. Vaguely.

A warm hand gently ran over his head. A midwife's voice whispered something soft and congratulatory. Hizashi leaned in, kissed his wife's forehead, then placed a careful kiss on the baby's brow.

This time… I'll change my fate. Not just mine. Theirs too.

His gaze drifted to the paper lanterns. The tatami. The distant murmur of wind against the wooden frame of the house.

This wasn't just a second life. It was a mission.

But once again, the strain of cognition hit him like a crashing wave. The baby body demanded rest, and his eyelids dropped despite his will.

As he drifted to sleep, he felt a ripple through his optic nerves. Something sleeping deep within him stirred.

Not the Byakugan. Not yet.

Something else.

The True Eyes.

Dormant.

But waiting.

Watching.

And ready—when the time came—to awaken.

<Late Afternoon>

It was late afternoon when Hiashi Hyuga arrived.

The air grew still as he approached, the sound of his footsteps absorbed by the tatami. His presence carried the weight of authority—the kind that made even veteran shinobi straighten their backs. Hizashi stood quickly and bowed deeply. His wife, recovering from childbirth, offered a shallow nod from her futon.

Hiashi surveyed the room with that unreadable calm unique to clan leaders. Then his gaze settled on the bundle cradled in Hizashi's arms.

"So," Hiashi said quietly, "this is Neji."

"Yes, brother," Hizashi replied, carefully angling the baby for him to see. "A boy. Strong and healthy."

Hiashi's pale eyes lingered on the infant. Neji lay still, swaddled tightly, fast asleep. There was no crying, no stirring. Just peaceful breathing and an occasional twitch of his tiny fingers.

"He didn't cry upon birth?" Hiashi asked, raising a brow.

"No," Hizashi said. "The midwives found it odd. He opened his eyes and… just looked around."

Hiashi's expression didn't change, but he stepped forward. "I would like to examine him."

Hizashi stiffened. He knew what that meant.

"Brother…" he began hesitantly. "The Byakugan—using it on an infant, our own kin—"

"It's for the clan," Hiashi interrupted gently but firmly. "I must understand his chakra potential. As head of the Hyuga, it is my duty."

Hizashi's fists clenched at his sides. The Byakugan was not a tool to be used lightly, especially not on one's own family. It was a weapon—one traditionally reserved for evaluating enemies on the battlefield. To use it on a baby, his baby, felt invasive. But Hiashi was clan head. A refusal would be disrespectful—and futile.

Hizashi stepped aside.

Hiashi knelt beside the sleeping child. With a silent breath, the veins around his temples bulged. His Byakugan activated with a soft hum of chakra. The world became transparent before his eyes.

He focused on Neji's chakra network.

"Steady," he murmured to himself. "Efficient flow. Balanced coils. No visible blockages."

Then his eyes narrowed.

"This chakra pool… it's large."

Larger than expected for a newborn. In fact, if Hiashi hadn't known better, he might have guessed the chakra level of a high-genin. And not just quantity—there was resilience in the tissue, a sturdiness to the infant's physical structure, as if his body had been reinforced by years of conditioning.

He deactivated his Byakugan, leaning back slowly.

"Congratulations, Hizashi," he said, standing. "You've birthed a strong son. He may do the branch family proud."

But Hizashi knew. That was not the only reason Hiashi had come.

The clan head wasn't just checking on his brother's child out of sentimentality. He had come to assess power—potential. Neji was not just a baby. He was a future piece in the Hyuga hierarchy.

And perhaps… a threat.

Hiashi offered a curt nod and exited the room, robes brushing the frame of the sliding door as it closed behind him.

---

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The Mother's Wrath

As the door shut, Hizashi turned to find his wife glaring at him.

"You let him use the Byakugan on our son?" she said sharply.

"He is the clan head," Hizashi said quietly. "I had no choice."

"He treated him like a test subject. Not family."

Her voice trembled with fury. "Neji isn't a tool. He's our son."

"I know." Hizashi took her hand gently. "Believe me, I know."

But deep down, he understood exactly what Hiashi was doing. Assessing strength. Measuring the next generation. Determining whether the branch family's blood was growing too strong, too fast.

Hiashi fears imbalance, Hizashi thought. He fears that power concentrated in the wrong hands might break the delicate structure our clan depends on.

What Hiashi failed to see—or perhaps refused to admit—was that Neji's strength was not just physical. There was something far deeper. Something invisible to the Byakugan.

Hiashi hadn't noticed the faint ripple beneath the surface—the slumbering spark of the True Eyes.



Later that evening, deep within the main estate, Hiashi met with the elder council of the Hyuga clan. They gathered beneath lantern light, kneeling on cushions, scrolls spread across a low lacquered table.

Hiashi's voice was quiet but firm.

"Neji, son of Hizashi, exhibits unusually high chakra reserves for his age. His chakra network is clear and refined. His body shows signs of accelerated resilience."

One elder named Kido Hyuga stroked his beard. "A prodigy?"

Another elder named Eirian Hyuga retored. "Just an early blommer, we seen a lot of them, right?"

"Too soon to say," Hiashi said. "But he is… promising. Possibly powerful."

Another elder spoke up. "This is good. The branch family must remain strong to protect the main line."

Hiashi's eyes narrowed. "Strength in the branch is good. But unchecked growth breeds ambition."

A silence settled.

The Hyuga clan thrived on rigid structure—main and branch, discipline and order. Ambition, in the wrong place, was a threat. Even blood ties couldn't erase that reality.

"We will continue observing him," Hiashi said. "Quietly. No interference. If he becomes… difficult to contain, I will take responsibility."

None dared oppose him. But tension hung in the air like unshed rain.

The Eyes Beneath

Neji stirred in his sleep.

Dreams drifted through his newborn mind—flashes of fluorescent lights, the hum of an office printer, David's smug grin. And then: death. The weight of exhaustion. The final collapse.

He blinked, the darkness behind his eyelids swirling. There, just beyond his inner vision, shimmered something dormant. A lens behind the lens. Not Byakugan.

The True Eyes.

They pulsed once, faintly. As if acknowledging the world outside.

No Hyuga elder could see them. Not even Hiashi. And that was good.

Because in those eyes was a power untouched by clan politics. A vision that transcended bloodline and structure. A sight that could see through lies, manipulation, and destiny itself.

Neji—Raigo—didn't just inherit a role. He carried revolution.



In the weeks that followed, rumors began to trickle through the Hyuga compound. The midwives whispered about the "silent child" with the gaze of a sage. The guards noted the increased presence of main family elders near Hizashi's home.

And Neji's mother? She never forgot the sight of Hiashi peering into her son's soul.

She grew cold toward the main house. Civil, but cool. And Hizashi noticed.

He walked a delicate line—loyal to his brother, but devoted to his family. As Neji grew stronger, so too did the tension between obligation and affection.

It wasn't just familial.

Among the elders, discussions deepened.

"If Neji truly surpasses expectations," one whispered, "should he not be elevated?"

"Impossible," another replied. "He is branch. That would shatter the system."

"What if the system no longer fits?" came the daring reply.

Hiashi heard the murmurs. And though he dismissed them outwardly, he tightened his control. More surveillance. Stricter scroll access. Fewer private meetings among branch families.

To most, it looked like prudence.

But to Hizashi—it looked like fear.

A fear not just of Neji, but of change. Of possibility.

And Neji, nestled in his cradle, continued to grow—quiet, observant, and unseen.

But the day would come when those True Eyes would open.

And the entire Hyuga clan would be forced to look back.

---

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Quote Reply

 

[VincentFS]

Lots of rambling about true eyes and less story progression. Meh

 

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The weeks that followed Neji's birth were quiet, but beneath the silence, undercurrents stirred. Hizashi's household was modest compared to the grand chambers of the Main House, yet it was filled with warmth. The tatami mats were worn in places from generations of footsteps, and the paper screens allowed in soft slants of light. It was in this gentle atmosphere that Neji began his earliest struggle.

He was only a month old when he began. His body was frail and small, barely able to lift his own head, yet within him was the soul of Raigo Tenku—a man reborn with purpose, memory, and mission.

Five years.

That was all the time he had. Five years before the Caged Bird Seal would be placed upon him. He would be marked the moment the heir of the Main House turned three. Hinata, still an infant, would trigger the seal's cruel tradition as she came of age.

He had to act before then.

Each morning, swaddled in blankets and lying on the futon beside his mother, Neji would try to activate the True Eyes.

It was no easy task.

Unlike the Byakugan, which lay dormant until awakened by chakra stimulus or intense emotion, the True Eyes were a power foreign to this world—a perception of essence, of deception and knowledge, that required deep awareness. But he was trapped in an infant's body, where neural pathways were still forming and chakra pathways barely pulsed.

He would close his tiny eyes and focus, diving inward. He reached for that distant core where his essence and memories fused with his gift.

The world would become still.

Time slowed. He would feel faint impressions—echoes of people's intentions, soft impressions of truths not yet spoken. But it was like trying to listen to a whisper in a thunderstorm.

Too much noise. Too much static.

Sometimes it gave him headaches. Once, his body trembled for hours afterward. His mother panicked, thinking he had caught a fever.

Hizashi sat beside the futon that evening, wiping a cool cloth across Neji's brow. "You've been pushing yourself, haven't you?" he whispered.

Neji, still unable to speak, looked up at his father with wide, innocent eyes. But Hizashi held those eyes for a moment, almost sensing something deeper.

"You're strong," Hizashi said quietly. "But strength doesn't mean rushing."

The True Eyes training continued slowly. From months two to five, Neji achieved only flickers—an instinctive sense that someone was hiding something, or an awareness of danger just before a vase was knocked over by a careless servant.

But by six months, he could recognize lies. When a visitor told Hizashi he was just "passing by," Neji stared until the man grew uncomfortable. Later, Hizashi discovered the man had visited to eavesdrop on a report.

The realization thrilled and terrified Neji. His power was growing—but it was painfully slow.

His mother became increasingly worried.

She noticed how Neji stared at people—too intently for a baby. How he seemed to know things. He avoided some servants and cried only when certain people approached. His eyes sometimes shimmered faintly—not white like the Byakugan, but something deeper, as if a second sight flickered just beneath the surface.

"Is something wrong with him?" she whispered one night to Hizashi, her hands wringing a cloth.

"No," Hizashi said, though his voice was unsure. "He's… gifted."

"Too gifted," she replied. "What if the Main House notices? What if they…"

She didn't finish. She didn't need to.

By the time Neji turned one, he could sit up, babble, and crawl with purpose. More importantly, he had begun experimenting with chakra control—drawing the faintest chakra to his eyes during quiet moments. It left him exhausted, and he often passed out right afterward.

He was always careful to avoid doing it in front of others.

They can't know.

He remembered the look in Hiashi's eyes.

That day, months ago, when Hiashi had visited to congratulate his brother.

<Past>

"Congratulations, Hizashi," Hiashi had said, standing tall and calm in the center of the room. "He's a fine boy."

"Thank you, Brother."

Hiashi approached the sleeping Neji and, without warning, activated his Byakugan. The veins around his temples bulged slightly.

Hizashi stiffened.

"Brother…"

"I'm only checking his chakra flow. A precaution," Hiashi said smoothly.

"But to use the Byakugan on a child—on a comrade's child—"

---

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---

"I am Clan Head," Hiashi interrupted. "It is my responsibility to evaluate the strength of every branch member. Especially one who may someday lead them."

Neji, asleep, didn't stir.

Hiashi studied him quietly. "His chakra flow is clean. Strong for his age. Perhaps even high-genin level already. His body will be resilient. Well done."

Then Hiashi turned, voice cool. "But remember, Hizashi. He is of the branch. No matter how strong he becomes… he serves the main."

He left without waiting for a response.

After that visit, Hizashi had stayed awake late into the night, watching his son sleep. His wife sat beside him, arms crossed.

"I didn't like what he did," she said.

"Neither did I."

"Why didn't you stop him?"

"Because he's Clan Head," Hizashi said bitterly. "And because I wanted to know too."

He ran a hand through his hair. "He wasn't just congratulating me. He was gauging power. Measuring threat."

"He thinks Neji might be dangerous?"

"No. He thinks he might be too valuable. Strong enough to matter. Strong enough to change the balance."

They both fell silent.

<Past ends>

By eighteen months, Neji could walk, talk clearly, and mimic hand signs. Hizashi began teaching him the very basics of chakra theory. Not openly - only when they were alone.

"You must never show too much, Neji," Hizashi whispered one evening, holding a small candle. "Not to them. Never let them know your full light."

Neji stared at the flame, focused. "Hide the fire," he murmured back.

His father's heart ached with pride and sorrow.

By his second birthday, Neji could walk and speak clearly, holding full conversations with his parents. His intellect was staggering. He could repeat entire stories word-for-word, mimic the cadence of adult conversation, and analyze what people meant more than what they said.

And his True Eyes though still subtle had evolved.

He could now sense deception of Genin-level ninja. He felt when people's intentions didn't match their words. When their smiles were hollow. When they were afraid. But to know their deception they have to think of deception. I have experimented on the one of midwife, when she broke a flower vase. I asked her if she had broken glass. she tried to hide, but i caught on.

But the most important progress was in his understanding of seals.

He had begun watching seals closely. Inscribed paper tags. Scroll locks. The faint chakra that pulsed through protective barriers. When he stared long enough, the True Eyes would show him things.

Patterns. Threads. Connections between symbols.

The Caged Bird Seal still eluded him, he had never seen it up close, but he now understood how chakra patterns could be imprinted into the mind. The Caged bird Seal is still far fetched.

I need more time, he thought often.

But time marched on.

One evening, after a particularly long meditation session, Neji's mother knelt beside him. "Neji, are you tired?"

He nodded, small and solemn.

"You don't have to train so much, sweetheart. You're just a child."

"No," he said. "I'm not."

She blinked. "What do you mean?"

Neji looked at her with eyes far older than his age. "I don't have time to be a child. Not really."

She pulled him into a hug, trembling.

Hizashi stood nearby, silent. He knew his son's words were true.

And that truth cut deeper than any blade.

Not even Neji himself could see the storm that brewed beneath those True Eyes.

<One Day>
The wind was gentle that morning, carrying with it the scent of moss and the faint rustle of plum blossoms. The Hyuga compound lay nestled like a silent fortress, disciplined and pristine, with walls so polished they reflected morning light like still water.

Neji, now nearly two years old, walked across the tatami floor with quiet steps. Though a toddler in age, the weight in his gaze often unsettled even the elder servants. His Byakugan had not yet awakenedbut the flickers of something else, something deeper, were not unnoticed by his father.

Hizashi watched as Neji traced the outlines of clan diagrams etched into old wooden scrolls with his tiny fingers. His mother adjusted Neji's robe and tied the sash gently, but her gaze lingered.

"Otou-san," Neji said suddenly, breaking the quiet.

Hizashi looked down, surprised by the formality. "Yes, Neji?"

"That man who came on the day I was born. The one who looked like you but older. Who was he? and why do you always wear the headband as if you are covering something"

Hizashi blinked slowly, caught off guard. His lips tightened. "It is too early for you to know such things."

Neji tilted his head. "But I am prepared for everything."

There was no arrogance in the statement, only a haunting conviction. Hizashi's wife looked at him in silence. They exchanged a look. Slowly, solemnly, Hizashi knelt.

"Very well." He removed the white headband from his forehead. His wife did the same. Beneath, etched into the skin like a curse written in chakra, was the Caged Bird Seal - an intricate design of ink-black curves, almost like an iris of an eye spread across their skin.

Neji studied it closely. "What does it do?"

Hizashi paused. "It is… a limiter. A control seal. It ensures obedience to the Main House. When activated by the head of the clan, it causes unbearable pain and eventually shuts down the Byakugan."

Neji frowned. "Will I get it too?"

---

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---

His mother let out a sharp, sudden sob and pulled him into her arms. Her tears soaked the shoulder of his robe. Hizashi knelt beside them.

"Yes," he said, voice low and heavy. "When the next heir of the Main House turns three. You will receive it too."

Neji sat in his mother's lap, thoughtful. There was no fear in his expression. "What does it feel like when it is used?"

A pause. Hizashi exhaled deeply.

"I was ten," he said, the memory surfacing like a bruise touched too hard. "Your uncle Hiashi and I were sparring. He tricked me to win the spar but i outmanoeuvred him and won. But, He was furious. He activated the seal."

His fingers clenched.

"It felt like… lightning under the skin. Not pain on the surface—but pain beneath everything. Like your nerves are unraveling. Like your own chakra is betraying you."

Neji's eyes didn't flinch. They absorbed every word, every detail.

His gaze turned back to his father's forehead. As he stared, a faint shimmer danced in his own eyes—just a whisper of a glow, a streak of royal blue threading through his pupils.

Hizashi saw it. A pause, a breath held too long.

The True Eyes... he's already tapping into them.

Neji continued to observe the seal, and in that moment, his mind began to construct vague frameworks.

From his limited access to the True Eyes, what he saw wasn't just the surface of the seal, but the way chakra thinned beneath it. He could barely perceive it—just faint pulses, threads of suppression interwoven with neural circuits. It reminded him of neural lattices or inhibitory feedback loops. Not exact, but... similar.

A suppressive waveform, perhaps? he thought. Theta-pattern chakra oscillations localized to the Byakugan lobe—choked off at the upper bridge of the prefrontal cortex?

But it was like staring through fog with cracked glasses. The patterns flickered and then dissolved.

Still, it was enough. The seal was active, but dormant. Triggerable by a precise chakra signal. But more than that—anchored into the autonomic flow. It wasn't just a switch. It was a rewrite.

His mastery was far too low to glean more. But even this insight was unprecedented.

Hizashi watched his son with wonder that bled into anxiety. "You saw something, didn't you?"

Neji nodded slowly. "A little."

"You're not afraid?"

"I don't have time to be," Neji replied, voice soft. "I have to understand it. Before they mark me."

From that day on, Hizashi began training Neji—not with the intensity of full Hyuga discipline, but enough to strengthen his chakra control and body movement.

"Just move the chakra to your fingertips," Hizashi said, guiding Neji's hands over a paper leaf. "Focus on flow, not force."

Neji's hands trembled. At two years old, his body was still frail. The tiniest mistakes led to chakra shocks that numbed his limbs for hours. Some days he would vomit from the strain.

At night, his mother would cry as she applied salves to his wrists. "You're just a child," she whispered. "You should be playing, not hurting yourself."

But Neji was relentless.

He would sit before the mirror and open his eyes wide, trying to activate his True Eyes again. The process was painful—his head would throb, his nose bled once. But slowly, over months, he began to see hints.

Flickers.

He could faintly perceive chakra threads on insects, the way plants conducted energy under moonlight, the slight delay in his mother's heartbeat when she was worried.

The True Eyes weren't like the Byakugan. They didn't offer perfect clarity—but deep interpretation. Pattern recognition. Truth.

But it came in fragments.

He began to keep a hidden journal—a toddler's scrawl interspersed with diagrams. Spirals. Waves. "Inhibitor curve." "Nerve convergence." "Sub-chakral lattice."

One night, Hizashi found it. He sat in silence for an hour reading the strange, near-alien notes.

He's not like us, he thought. He's something more.

And with that came dread.

What if the Main House saw him as a threat? What if Hiashi felt his power was tilting the balance?

Hizashi began placing defensive seals on their home. Just in case.

True Eyes Analysis Log — Entry 3

Observed Subject: Caged Bird Seal (External) Observation Method: Low-grade True Eyes Activation (Approx. 4.6 seconds max exposure) Findings:

Seal layers consist of 3 radial glyph patterns.

Chakra density indicates enforced polarity at cerebral junction points.

Possible quantum binding signature? (unsure)

Activation channel dormant but reactive to external command frequency (likely proprietary to Main House Control seal)

Note: Too unstable to probe further. Experienced visual noise and nausea.

Conclusion: This isn't just a seal. It's a neural command rewrite tethered to pain response. Need more exposure.

---

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---

By age two, Neji could walk without aid and speak fluently. His physical prowess was still below standard, but his mental acuity had surpassed anyone his age.

Hizashi brought him to the courtyard one morning. "We're going to begin soft palm training. Only stance and balance."

Neji nodded. "Will you teach me the sixty-four palms too?"

"Not yet. You'll need to master rotation first. But we'll begin."

As Neji fell into the stance, his mother watched from the veranda, her hands clasped. She wasn't smiling.

That night, she confronted Hizashi.

"You are preparing him for war. Before he even knows joy."

"I'm preparing him for survival," Hizashi said, voice firm. "You've seen the mark on our foreheads. I won't let his spirit be chained without understanding. If I can give him even one tool to fight it… I will."

She didn't respond, but her tears said enough.

One evening, as the stars began to rise over the compound, Neji wandered into the garden alone. He stared at the pond's surface, watching how the water shimmered with layered light.

He opened his eyes. The True Eyes responded.

For a brief second, he saw something in his reflection—a flicker behind his pupils. A circuit. A loop of light.

A voice stirred within him. Not external, but internal. A sense.

The seal is a net. And every net has knots.

If you understand the knots... you can untangle the rest.

Neji stood quietly, absorbing the world, the burden, and the quiet path he had chosen.

He had three years left, Hinata should be born anytime soon.

The first step had been taken.

<Few Months Later>

The moon hung low over the Hyūga compound that night, an opalescent disk casting a ghostly sheen over the tiled roofs and lantern-lit corridors. Unlike the subdued calm that marked Neji's birth in the branch family compound, the main house was a hive of anticipation and tension. Torches blazed at every entrance, elite sentries stood in alert formation, and a nervous hum passed from servant to shinobi. The birth of the next Hyūga heir was imminent.

In the grand courtyard of the main family estate, clusters of Hyūga members had gathered. Some shared quiet prayers, heads bowed and hands clasped. Others whispered behind their sleeves.

"A girl, they say. But what matters is the eyes."

"Hiashi-sama will be displeased if she doesn't inherit well."

"Another chance to cement the main family's power."

There were those among them who bore genuine hope for a peaceful future, believing that the new heir could unify the scattered hearts of the clan. But others, especially among the ambitious elders and the skeptical younger shinobi, saw the child only as a political weight.

The tension was no less thick inside the compound. In a secluded birthing chamber, Hiashi's wife lay in agony. Her hands gripped the silk bedding, knuckles white, sweat streaking her temple. A midwife dabbed at her brow while the clan's best medical-nin stabilized her chakra.

She clenched her jaw against the waves of pain. Not from the birth, but from the silence outside. Hiashi wasn't there. He hadn't even come to offer her a moment of comfort.

Elsewhere in the estate, Hiashi sat on the dais reserved for the clan head. He was alone in the council chamber, a solemn figure cloaked in white robes, his face carved from stone. He did not fidget or pace. Instead, he stared at the ancestral scroll that rested across the lap of the family statue behind him.

He had not spoken in hours. Not to the elders. Not to the guards. Not to himself.

Footsteps echoed from the hallway. A Hyūga guard knelt at the door. "Hiashi-sama. The child has been born."

The clan head rose. Wordlessly.

He walked in calm, unhurried strides through the moonlit halls until he arrived at the birthing chamber. The medical-nin parted silently, and his wife, exhausted and breathless, barely lifted her head. She held out her hand, seeking his touch, but he didn't take it. He walked past her and stopped at the child's crib.

Wrapped in a pale lavender cloth, the newborn girl slept soundlessly. Her breathing was steady. Her skin delicate and flushed. Hiashi stared at her in silence.

Then, the veins at his temples bulged. He activated the Byakugan.

What he saw was... acceptable. Her chakra flow was balanced. Her tenketsu nodes were all in order. There was the natural resonance of Hyūga heritage. But nothing exceptional.

Nothing like that child from the branch house. That boy. Neji.

Hiashi's gaze hardened.

You are supposed to be the light of the main house. Why are you only average?

Frustration flared within him. He felt cheated.

His thoughts drifted, unbidden, to the past. The day he and Hizashi faced the clan's trial of succession. Hizashi, his twin, his equal in everything—perhaps his better. Hiashi had won by trickery, by maneuvering Hizashi into forfeiting honorably. He became head of the clan. And now, fate mocked him.

His daughter, destined to be heir, was weak. His brother's son, destined to be subservient, was a prodigy.

Hiashi turned away from the child. Without so much as a glance at his wife, he said coldly, "You can name her whatever you want."

He left.

---

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---

The silence he left behind was deeper than any kunai wound.

Hiashi's wife trembled. Not from the pain of childbirth. Not anymore. But from heartbreak. She lifted the child gently, bringing her close. Tears welled in her eyes.

"You will not be unloved," she whispered. "Even if the world weighs on your small shoulders."

She traced a finger over the baby's cheek. "Your eyes will bloom with warmth. Your hands will bring healing."

She looked out the open shoji panel toward the moonlit garden and softly declared, "Hinata. That will be your name. Hinata Hyūga."


Later that night, the news spread through the compound.

"A girl, named Hinata."

"Hiashi-sama seemed... disappointed."

"She carries the future of the clan. Whether he sees it or not."

In the branch compound, Hizashi received word of the birth. He looked at Neji, who lay asleep in his crib, the ghost of a blue glow still faintly dancing in his eyes. Hizashi's expression tightened.

"So, the heir is born," he said softly. "And the countdown begins."

He remembered the day he received his own Caged Bird Seal. The cold hands. The smell of incense. The pain. But most of all, he remembered the look in Hiashi's eyes—a mix of regret, fear, and necessity.

"I won't let that be Neji's fate," he vowed.

Meanwhile, Hiashi stood alone in his meditation chamber. He stared at a portrait of the Hyūga ancestors, their pale eyes painted with divine serenity.

"I must protect this clan," he whispered. "Even from weakness. Even from myself."

But deep down, a crack had formed in his resolve.

And the moon looked down on two children: one born under quiet torches, the other under a chorus of cheers. One bearing the seal of destiny, the other the chains of tradition.

Both bound to a legacy not of their choosing.

<Three Year Later>

Neji Hyuga had turned Five.

It was an age when most children were still learning to run without tumbling and were coddled with toys and sweets. But for Neji, life was a series of careful steps along a razor's edge. The gentle, playful mornings of the Hyuga Branch compound had been replaced with the rhythmic snaps of wooden sandals across the dojo floor, the smell of sweat and pine-sap polish, and the quiet hum of chakra rising from beneath the skin.

The days had grown tenser. The distant drums of fate echoed closer—Hinata's third birthday was only a month away. And that meant the Caged Bird Seal would be branded onto Neji's forehead any time soon. A slow countdown had begun. The future carved in inked symbols and clan traditions.

But even fate, as Neji believed, was meant to be read, challenged, and if possible—rewritten.

He stood in the Hyuga training dojo beside his father, Hizashi, who had shifted fully into the role of mentor. Their stances were mirrored, legs spread evenly apart, knees bent, arms gracefully extended. The air vibrated faintly as chakra danced in small spirals around their fingertips.

"Not like that," Hizashi said sharply. "Your movement is too rigid. The Hyuga style flows like water—but strikes like lightning. Watch again."

He stepped forward, his footwork smooth and gliding, the kind perfected through decades of silent drills. Hizashi spun lightly on one foot, his body flowing like silk, and delivered a lightning-quick jab into the air. The invisible pulse cracked like a whip, slicing across the tatami with sheer force.

Neji observed everything with his Byakugan active, the veins near his eyes pulsing lightly. The world looked different through it—every tendon in his father's body, every chakra point, every minuscule change in breath and posture—it was all exposed. The divine eye saw everything.

"I understand," Neji replied in a soft but determined voice.

He mimicked the movement—this time fluid, controlled. His body shifted like a river changing course, then he struck—a palm forward, projecting chakra outward. The pulse didn't crack as hard, but it was clean. Clean enough to make Hizashi pause.

"Again," Hizashi said, this time his voice lacking sharpness. "And faster."

Neji obeyed, repeating the step-spin-strike, over and over until sweat pooled at his brow and his breath shortened. He didn't complain. He never did. Every step, every movement, was etched with silent purpose. The only thing louder than his footsteps was the sound of his will.

In the corner of the training yard, Neji's mother watched, her hands clasped nervously. She had always feared the intensity that came over Hizashi during training—but it had grown fiercer lately. The closer Hinata's birthday came, the more Hizashi's strikes became less like a father's and more like a soldier's.

During a pause, Hizashi looked down at his son, noting the fatigue in his shoulders, the sweat streaking his jaw. But there was no fear. Only resolve.

"You don't need to push so hard," Hizashi murmured, "You're still a child."

"I don't have time to be a child," Neji replied, meeting his father's eyes.

That sentence struck Hizashi deeper than any palm strike ever could.

Their sessions often ended in silence, but the silence was never empty. It was filled with what was left unsaid—the fear, the determination, the fragile hope that maybe, just maybe, Neji could find a way out.

---

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---

Later that evening, as the stars climbed overhead, Neji sat cross-legged in the small room that had become his sanctuary. A paper lantern cast soft orange light on the walls. He had a scroll open, sketched diagrams of chakra coils and Hyuga clan genealogy sprawled in childish strokes. He didn't fully understand it all, but he was piecing together the story.

The Byakugan had awakened months ago during a spar—his emotions had surged, his mind had focused, and suddenly the world changed. The veins bulged from his temple, and for the first time, he saw chakra. It had felt natural, almost like breathing. Hizashi had been proud, perhaps even afraid.

But the True Eyes had remained dormant—only surfacing in rare flickers when Neji's emotions overflowed. It was as if the Byakugan was a gateway, but the True Eyes... they were a world beyond.

He had tried to train them in secret. Meditation. Micro chakra control. Focusing his breath into one-pointed stillness. But results were frustratingly slow. When the blue light sparked behind his vision, it gave him a glimpse—just a glimpse—of the layers beneath chakra, of unseen lattice structures inside seals, like mathematical models folded in on themselves.

Neji scribbled something onto the parchment: "Caged Bird—glyph sequence has six-fold symmetry. Possible frequency-based disruptor?"

He didn't know what it meant yet. He didn't have to. He had to find out quick.

"Your form is improving," Hizashi said the next morning as Neji landed a precise strike near his shoulder. "But remember—chakra is not just force. It's intention. The Byakugan reveals your enemy's weakness. But your mind must choose what to do with that knowledge."

"Understood," Neji said, correcting his stance immediately.

They transitioned into the Eight Trigrams practice. Hizashi drew a circle in the dirt with his sandal and stepped into the center. "Begin."

Neji stepped forward, weaving his chakra into a defensive pattern.

"Two Palms." His hands moved like gusts.

"Four Palms." His feet glided, the inner spiral of the rotation beginning.

"Eight Palms!" Sweat flew from his brow. His father deflected, corrected, countered.

"Sixteen—!" Hizashi's voice rang, then stopped.

Neji faltered, chest heaving.

"Too soon," Hizashi said. "Don't chase numbers. Perfect the form. Mastery is precision, not repetition."

Neji nodded. Even in fatigue, he absorbed everything.

As the day waned, and the dojo emptied, Hizashi sat beside his son under the maple tree just outside the training ground.

"Your eyes…" Hizashi began slowly. "I saw something strange during our session."

Neji looked up.

"A flash. Like blue fire behind your irises."

"…I didn't notice."

"You're talented, Neji. More than I ever was. But power without understanding is dangerous."

"I want to understand. I need to."

They sat in silence for a moment.

"You know what's coming soon, don't you?" Hizashi asked.

Neji nodded. "Hinata's birthday."

"And?"

"I'll be branded."

Hizashi's hands tightened around his robe sleeves. "I want to stop it. But I can't. I'm sorry."

Neji looked at him. "It's okay I have a plan."

There was no arrogance in his voice. Only certainty.

And for the first time, Hizashi didn't correct him.

Later that night, when Neji lay in bed, he activated his Byakugan once more—just to see the ceiling through layers of wooden grain and beams. Then he focused harder, deeper, calling to that other eye hidden within the bloodline.

For a second, the world pulsed.

A flash of blue.

Faint shapes—the Caged Bird Seal etched like an energy code across his father's forehead, pulsing in silent rhythm. He focused… tried to trace it.

His eyes ached. The vision faltered. The blue dimmed.

He collapsed into sleep.

---

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A pale dusk had begun to settle over the Hyuga compound. Shadows stretched across the clean stone paths, and the wind carried a strange stillness with it. Inside the modest branch house of Hizashi Hyuga, an unexpected knock shattered the silence. A young Hyuga clan member stood at the door, straight-backed and cold-eyed.

"The clan head has called for your presence. And Neji's."

Hizashi paused for a moment, his eyes sharp. His breath hitched, only for a heartbeat, before he masked it with calm composure.

"We will be on our way," he said smoothly.

The Hyuga messenger nodded. "Very well. I shall take my leave."

As the door shut, Hizashi turned to his son. Neji stood there, small and still, his five-year-old frame unmoved by the message. His face held the same expression it had when he was told he would be tested in chakra molding—serene, unreadable.

"It's time, isn't it?" Neji asked softly.

Hizashi's chest tightened. There was something in his son's voice that felt too old for his age. But he only nodded.

At the Main Family compound, tension brewed like an unsaid truth. Hiashi Hyuga stood at the center of the training grounds, arms crossed, his voice biting through the courtyard.

"Hinata, activate your Byakugan."

The little girl, still trembling from the last exchange, stepped forward. "Y-Yes, Father... Byakugan!" she called, barely above a whisper. The veins around her eyes pulsed.

Hiashi's cold gaze narrowed. "Attack. Faster. Again. Fiercer!"

Hinata stepped in with all the hesitation of a deer on ice, her movements wide, defenseless. Every punch she threw lacked conviction, but she kept trying, fueled by the fear of failure more than any desire to win.

"You are too slow. Your strikes are soft. You disgrace the Hyuga name," Hiashi spat.

Hinata winced and bowed. "Y-Yes, Father. I'll try harder."

Meanwhile, Neji and Hizashi arrived at the scene. They stood quietly, letting the harsh training session continue. Hizashi's face was unreadable. Neji, however, was already reading the emotional winds with his dormant True Eyes—catching the subtle changes in Hiashi's tone, the underlying satisfaction when Hinata obeyed, and the cold disappointment when she faltered.

Finally, Hiashi ended the session with a sharp clap of his hands.

Turning toward the new arrivals, he offered a smile too polished to be sincere.

"Ah, Hizashi. Neji. Good of you to come."

Hiashi's gaze turned to the boy, and his smile deepened. "Neji, how are you doing, my boy?"

In that moment, Neji saw something his father could not: an undercurrent of calculation. Hiashi's chakra flow shimmered slightly—his intention cloaked in the subtle deceit that would go unnoticed by anyone without True Eyes.

Neji responded like the perfect child. He bowed slightly. "I am doing well, Hiashi-sama."

Hizashi raised an eyebrow, briefly surprised by his son's tone and behavior, but remained silent.

Hiashi's chest swelled slightly. The child was respectful. Unspoiled by rebellion or resentment. Perfect.

"Good. Good. Then let me introduce you to someone important."

He gestured to the girl beside him, who peeked shyly from behind her sleeve.

"This is my daughter. Hinata Hyuga."

Hinata stumbled into a small bow. "He-Hello... I am Hi-Hinata Hyuga."

Neji's heart ached unexpectedly. There was fear in her voice, the same kind he'd seen in the eyes of servants in the compound—constant, weary fear.

He smiled, soft and warm. "Hello, Hinata-sama. I am Neji Hyuga."

Hinata blinked up at him. The kindness in his eyes... it was different. No weight. No demand. No shame. Just a child being kind to another child. Something she had almost forgotten could exist.

"Neji-san..." she whispered.

Hiashi's pride rose. He had expected awkwardness, maybe a little jealousy. Instead, Neji's deference only fueled his plan to mold the boy into the perfect protector.

"Excellent. Neji, you and Hinata shall spar."

Hiashi's voice was sweet, casual. But Neji's mind caught the tactical undertone. This wasn't a playful match—it was an assessment, a cloaked examination.

Hiashi turned to act as referee. "Ready... go!"

Hinata activated her Byakugan again, her face already paler than usual. Neji mirrored her, and as his veins bulged, he internally lowered his chakra circulation. He would not show his full strength. Not today.

The two charged. Hinata's movements were hesitant but focused. Neji deliberately stumbled in his counter. He struck too wide, defended too slow. His chest heaved with false exhaustion.

Hinata hesitated. Her palm hovered, her breathing quickened. She didn't want to hurt him.

"Keep going," Hiashi barked. "Don't stop."

Hinata flinched. "Y-Yes, Father."

A strike to his side sent him to the ground. He gasped, then lay still.

"I... I'm sorry, Neji-san," Hinata whispered.

Neji pushed himself up, brushing tears from his eyes—tears summoned with precise emotional recall, not pain. "It's okay, Hinata-sama. You're strong."

Hiashi observed from the sidelines, intrigued. Hinata had managed to dominate. Maybe his pressure was working. Maybe Neji wasn't as dangerous as feared. He glanced at Hizashi, whose face was rigid with concern. Hizashi activated his Byakugan. His eyes widened. Something wasn't right.

Instantly in response, Hiashi's chakra flared and Hiashi's hands flashed into a Ram seal. Chakra surged.

A bolt of searing pain struck Hizashi's forehead.

The Caged Bird Seal pulsed.

Hizashi collapsed to one knee, a grunt of pain escaping his lips.

"Hizashi," Hiashi said coldly, "You activated your Byakugan aggressively during a spar between children. That is treason. You will be confined for two days."

Neji didn't move, but used his True Eyes to scan both his father and his uncle—memorising chakra fluctuations, emotional patterns, the secret micro-expressions betraying intent when the seal was activated. He burned the moment into his memory.

---

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Hiashi glanced at Neji, the warmth in his voice now slightly frayed. "You did fine, Neji. Learn from young Hinata."

Neji responded with a concern towards his father. "Yes, Hiashi-sama."

He turned to run to his father, crouching beside him, trying to hide his own trembling.

Hinata stepped forward, concern drawn across her face. "Neji-san... your father..."

Hiashi waved her back. "Hizashi, the branding ceremony will begin. Take Neji to the seal room."

Hizashi struggling to get up, Neji's voice quivered. "Otou-san? What happened to you?"

Tears brimmed at the edges of his eyes, but behind them was clarity, burning and bright.

<One Day>

It had been a quiet evening when Hizashi first brought it up.

The walls of their quarters trembled gently in the wind, moonlight casting silver streaks across the tatami floor. Hizashi had already sensed something deeper in his son — a sharpness, a quiet hunger to understand everything that had been denied to him.

"You'll activate the Byakugan soon," Hizashi said, folding his arms inside his sleeve, tone low. "And when you do… watch closely when the seal is used."

Neji had looked up, confused. "Why, Father?"

"There's more to the Caged Bird Seal than pain," Hizashi continued, voice steeled. "It's a technique. A method. They call it a punishment, but even punishment has structure. Precision. Learn that structure."

He paused, kneeling beside Neji. "If you understand how they cast it… maybe, someday, you'll find a way to break it."

From then on, it was a quiet pact between father and son — unspoken when others were around, but always present. Hizashi taught Neji to read the flow of chakra with meticulous care, made him study the elders when they activated the seal on others, made him feel how the chakra flared and locked like chains around the mind.

One day, Hizashi promised, he would volunteer himself for a minor infraction, just enough to provoke a light punishment from the main house. It would hurt, but Neji would be there, eyes open, observing.

"It won't be today," Hizashi had whispered, gently ruffling his son's hair. "But soon. And when it happens, don't panic. Just remember everything I taught you."

<Past ends>

"Neji," he whispered. "Everything will be alright."

Neji nodded, tightening his grip on his father's sleeve.

Together, they walked toward the fate laid out before them.

The hallway was quiet.

Each step Neji took echoed with finality. His bare feet touched the wooden floor like the delicate weight of fate, carried along by the stern footsteps of Hizashi at his side. They passed through a set of sliding doors into the stone-walled seal room, a place veiled in the sorrowful history of the Hyūga clan.

There was a distinct scent here—like ink and old paper, but with an undercurrent of blood and sweat. A markless tatami mat sat at the center, worn smooth from generations of children branded into servitude.

In the dim light, a man sat cross-legged. Elder Ranken, they called him. He was ancient, folded in age like old parchment, but the chakra around his form pulsed heavy like gravity. His eyes, though barely open, radiated presence. Neji's True Eyes saw his chakra system: sluggish, yes, but coiled with centuries of condensed experience.

Hiashi bowed slightly. "Elder, the seal is to be placed."

Ranken didn't respond. His gaze shifted, slowly, onto Neji.

"Come here."

Neji did not hesitate. He stepped forward. Calm. Curious. But inside, thoughts fired like lightning. He had to act his part.

This is it.

He knew the Caged Bird Seal couldn't be evaded. Not now. Not without drawing suspicion. He was too young, too vulnerable. But there might be another way—a delay tactic. A technical loophole, The conclusion i have arrived after analysing father and mother's seal.

Ranken's chakra flared subtly, almost too subtle to detect. But Neji saw it.

"Lie down," the old man muttered.

Neji complied.

Then Ranken turned. "Hizashi, leave."

Hizashi clenched his jaw. "Elder, let me remain. I... I want to give him support."

"Leave."

"But—"

"Hizashi," Hiashi said, voice level. "Wait outside. I shall observe."

A beat of silence. Hizashi gave Neji one last look—something between grief and apology—and turned to leave.

When the doors shut, Ranken leaned closer. Neji closed his eyes.

He knew he was weak. He knew that in this moment, there was nothing he could do to stop the seal.

But he had the True Eyes.

And there was a way he thought and closed his eyes.

<6 Months ago>

It had been half a year ago. Neji stood across from Hizashi in a quiet forest clearing behind the compound. He was panting, his small chest rising and falling with effort. Hizashi moved like wind and fire, pressuring him without mercy.

"Again!"

Neji stepped forward with a Eight Trigrams Thirty-Two Palms (Hakke Sanjūni Shō). Hizashi countered, twisting Neji's wrist and pressing chakra into his shoulder.

"You're not flowing, Neji. Don't try to mimic. React!"

Neji pushed off the ground, activated his Byakugan—and then, for a moment, more. A flicker. A shift. He felt it.

His perception stretched beyond even the Byakugan's clarity. Layers of chakra became readable—not just visible. Each node flickered with data, intent, pattern.

But then—

"Neji," Hizashi said, staring. "Your eyes… did you feel that? Your eyes turned blue for a moment."

Neji froze. So he saw it.

He smiled like a child caught with a snack.

"I felt something, otou-san. Just a little."

Hizashi looked disturbed. Not because he feared Neji—but because he knew something unnatural was awakening. Something that could make his son a target. and he felt these eyes could help him see the seal activation even better and resolved him self.

"Come, Neji—let's go. Your soon-to-come sibling might already be kicking. who do you want brother or sister?"

"Hmm... Brother" says Neji

<Some Days Later>

Neji sat in the silence of the forest near the compound's edge, his eyes closed tight, barely breathing. He began meditating, channeling chakra into the center of his mind—not his eyes, but into the point between.

All he could see at first was red and black—the blood vessels of his eyelid. Occasionally, flickers of deep indigo would swirl through, like underwater currents.

"This is useless," he muttered, frustrated.

But he remembered what he observed: the first time his True Eyes activated involuntarily, his father noticed a faint royal blue glow in his eyes. Not violet like the Byakugan. Blue like deep sea flame.

That color would give him away.

He needed to see without being seen.

So he started to train with his eyes closed.

---

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Tim Hall unlocked the Kokugan (黒眼) under a blood eclipse. Reality folded inward. Ascending as an Ōtsutsuki, he no longer walked—he commanded gravity, memory, and fate. Earth became his experiment. Mortals, his echo.

Thank you for your support

A Note of Thanks

To our newest patron—Tim Hall—thank you ever so much for your generous support. Your subscription (Kage Level Content) is not only deeply appreciated but instrumental in sustaining the creative work we do. Welcome to an inner circle where ideas flourish and vision becomes reality.

Thank you from the bottom of my heart for your incredible support. Your subscription isn't just a number — it's a real sign of trust and belief in my work. Every like, comment, or quiet read means the world to me, and your presence makes the journey worthwhile.

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As mentioned in the synopsis, the release frequency will now be three chapters per week.


Chapter Schedule: Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday


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---

He needed to understand how the Byakugan and the Caged Bird Seal functioned at a neurological level. He began studying chakra flow diagrams that Hizashi left lying around. His memory helped him rebuild their logic.

Byakugan enhanced perception by hyper-routing chakra through the optic nerves and reshaping ocular structures.

The Caged Bird Seal was different.

It was layered chakra ink, forcibly injected through the scalp and around the ocular chakra centers. Its primary function was reactive containment. The moment aggressive intent was directed toward a Main House member, the seal would activate and painfully attack the cerebellum and visual cortex.

It was protection-by-paralysis.

But Neji had an idea: what if he could overlay a layer of True Eye perception just outside the cortical boundary of the seal?



This was risky. He began small.

Each night, he would lie with his eyes closed and enter into a state of pre-dream meditation. When his body was still and the chakra around his head was calm, he would release a minimal pulse of his True Eyes.

Instead of pushing outward like the Byakugan, he compressed it inward.

Tiny tendrils of blue chakra would trace the inside of his optic nerves, winding around the seals, not touching—just observing. Then, he mapped them. Each pulse taught him more.



The idea was simple but terrifying: what if, once branded, he could implant a "flicker" of True Eye energy between the activation sequence of the seal?

When the Caged Bird Seal received the command via a special hand sign, there was a brief neural relay, like a chain of dominoes. He planned to insert a microscopic delay—a nanosecond disruption in that neural relay.

Too small to be detected.

But enough to give him choice.

Even if he couldn't deactivate it now, one day, when stronger than the Hokage, he could inject a True Eye feedback signal into the seal from within.

A trapdoor.

A loophole.

But today, he had to act weak.

He couldn't alert anyone. Not Hiashi. Not the Elder. Especially not Konoha's upper elite, who would see this as a threat to the fragile stability of the Hyūga and by extension, the village.

If he showed even the intent of rebellion, Hiruzen might be forced to act. The Hokage could order his assassination, or worse, lock him away in ANBU confinement. The old bandaged mummy would salivate at the idea of weaponizing a mutant Hyūga with untraceable eyes.

No.

The seal had to happen.

But on his terms.

<Present>

The old man lifted a brush soaked in chakra-infused ink and held it above Neji's forehead.

"This will hurt," he said plainly.

Neji didn't flinch.

The brush lowered, tracing a familiar lotus-shaped sigil across Neji's brow. Pain surged as the chakra-infused ink pierced skin and soul.

Then the Elder activated the seal.

RAM SEAL. TIGER SEAL.

He could see it the flow of this seal. The inscriptions are ancient. Modified over centuries, but the logic still holds. Chakra suppression. Pain compliance. Neural conditioning.

Neji's True Eyes scanned the seal design engraved on the tatami and carved faintly into the ceiling. It wasn't just a jutsu. It was a mechanical framework. Like a circuit.

And circuits, even ones etched in chakra, could be manipulated.

He observed it fully. How it initiated: the location, the spread. The control sigil was external—worn by the Main Family. The anchor seal linked through the optic nerve and frontal lobe. Pain signal propagation originated from a particular chakra bundle.

If I disrupt this point here...

He noted a small convergence, a faint glyph that acted as a timing regulator for the activation.

It's crude. Ancient design. And the seal is only partially self-correcting.

If he could 'trip' that flow—even slightly—he might not negate the seal but create a desynchronization. A temporal glitch.

He could feel it moving.

Like a surgeon, he traced around the seal's pathways.

There—between the fifth and sixth neural relay point.

He injected a minuscule pulse.

No one noticed.

Neji gritted his teeth, tears flooding his eyes—not from the pain, but from the violation. A foreign chakra was now embedded into his brain.

"It is finished," the Elder said, rising slowly.

Hiashi nodded and offered a brief bow. "Thank you, Elder."

Neji sat up slowly. His forehead burned, and he could feel the mark—yet he didn't cry.

He looked at Hiashi with blank obedience. "Thank you, Hiashi-sama."

Hiashi observed him for a moment. Calm. No rebellion. No resentment.

Good.

He would make an excellent bodyguard.

Hizashi saw Neji emerge and ran forward, kneeling.

"Neji, are you alright?"

Neji gave him a smile, small and brave. "It didn't hurt that much, Otou-san."

Hizashi couldn't hold back. He pulled his son into his arms, guilt and fury flooding his heart.

But Neji? He held on for a moment—then whispered:

"It's alright. I planned for it."

Hizashi blinked.

Neji said nothing more.

---

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---

The faint scent of incense lingered in the dim chamber long after the ceremony had ended. The Caged Bird Seal now rested—etched in black ink and chakra—upon Neji's forehead like a quiet curse. The branding had been done. The mark cooled against his skin, but the weight it represented was just beginning to settle into his soul.

At five years old, Neji Hyuga should have cried.

He didn't.

Instead, he sat in silence as the room emptied, the footsteps of the elders fading into distant echoes. The tatami mats were cold beneath him. He glanced at the elder who had performed the sealing, the man now reclining with a distant, tired expression. Neji looked away.

His father wasn't here anymore.

Hiashi had taken Hizashi out moments before the final seal activation. "Too painful to witness," the elder had said. Or perhaps too dangerous.

But Neji wasn't thinking about pain.

He was thinking about failure.

<Back in Neji's Room>

The silence of the Hyuga compound weighed heavily on Neji's small frame. The cold brand of the Caged Bird Seal was fresh on his forehead, still throbbing with phantom pain he dared not show. His plan—planting a tactical delay using the hidden pathways of his True Eyes—had failed.

But Neji Hyuga was no ordinary child.

That night, while the rest of the Hyuga Clan slept under pale moonlight, Neji sat cross-legged on the tatami mat in his small room. He activated his Byakugan and, layered beneath it, the subtle awakening of his True Eyes. A royal blue shimmer barely visible to the naked eye glowed softly under his closed eyelids.

Through his True Eyes, Neji could see what others could not—the structure of chakra at a microscopic level, the architecture of seals, the hidden mechanisms and recursive locks of the Caged Bird Seal.

"The seal is not a simple trigger... it's a recursive chain." Neji thought grimly.

The seal was built not on a singular "command" basis, but a multi-layered locking system:

The first layer reacted to outward aggression toward the Main Family.

The second layer stored pain commands ready to activate.

The third hidden layer auto-corrected tampering or delays, "healing" any small disruptions Neji might have caused.

His True Eyes, scanning deeper, revealed even more: the chakra networks surrounding the seal were rerouted subtly, binding themselves into the very nodes of his brainstem and heart pathways.

No wonder his slight interference didn't stop it.



The moment the seal had been activated, Neji had flared his chakra in a specific pattern he'd trained for months—a subtle internal maneuver, designed to disrupt the exact timing of chakra inscription. With the True Eyes, he had observed the mechanics of chakra layering within the seal—the scribing phase, the binding phase, the anchoring phase.

He had delayed the anchoring by 0.8 seconds.

That was his window.

He believed he had changed its root—redirecting the feedback pain anchor away from his cerebral cortex and toward a dormant junction in his upper spinal column. It would have, in theory, delayed the responsiveness of the seal, perhaps even weakened it.

But as he activated his True Eyes now—chakra flooding his visual perception, the world gleaming in soft royal blue hues—he saw it.

The delay hadn't stopped the seal. It had merely recalibrated.

The anchor had re-routed. The seal's adaptive properties had overridden his interference. He had underestimated its depth—a seal this ancient had a self-correcting chakra matrix, akin to a living circuit. His tampering had been detected and... absorbed.

"It seems to adapt itself," he whispered, horrified.

Like a venomous vine, the seal had coiled deeper into his nervous system, threading itself through multiple chakra nodes and creating a new contingency loop.

The True Eyes watched it all unfold: spiraling circuits of chakra, barely perceptible to a normal Byakugan. One loop now interfaced with his occipital lobe—suggesting future interference with perception. Another had latched onto the vagus nerve, no doubt allowing pain signals to trigger body-wide shutdowns.

Neji clenched his fists tightly, fingernails digging into his palms.

"I wasn't wrong. But I was... incomplete."

He needed to go beyond.

He needed more power, more knowledge—and more precision.

They weren't just controlling loyalty.

They were controlling who he could become.



That night, as moonlight bathed the Hyuga compound in silver, Neji sat in his room with the doors shut tight and a chalkboard of his own making scratched into the wall. On it, faint sketches of the seal glowed faintly, drawn in chakra residue he had traced with his fingers.

"Three anchors," he whispered.

He tapped them with a stick of pale chakra wax:

Cerebral Dominance Loop (CDL)

Pain Trigger Relay (PTR)

Monitoring Lattice Weave (MLW)

Each had sub-components. Interlocked, mutually compensating. And worst of all, reactive.

"If I sever one, the others will reinforce. If I suppress all, the MLW will send a feedback pulse to the Main Family."

---

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---

He leaned back, exhaustion settling into his tiny limbs. Five years old and already navigating neurological warfare.

But even in the face of that complexity, Neji was not hopeless.

He had seen something else.

With the True Eyes, buried deep beneath the third anchor—in a region of the chakra system few even knew existed—was a subroutine cluster of foreign origin. Unlike the other components, it did not pulse in Hyuga chakra rhythm.

It was added later.

"This part..." he muttered, squinting, "it's... universal. Not clan-specific."

And in that moment, Neji realized something. The Caged Bird Seal had once been a generic protection of Byakugan, later modified and refined into a clan weapon. That meant its foundation was alterable.

If I can learn the original version...

A plan formed.

Not for today. Not for next year. But for a time when he would be stronger than even the Hokage.

He would break the seal.

Not just for himself.

For all of them.

<The Road to Liberation>

Neji scratched into the chalkboard and started writing his future goals:

Goal 1: Chakra Layer Mapping

Study the chakra layers of branch members to find common structures. True Eyes allows me to view chakra at a granulated level. Compare variations.

Goal 2: Adaptive Disruption Technique

Design a method to emit harmless 'chakra noise' that interrupts feedback without alerting the MLW. Possibly using sympathetic vibration through breathwork?

Goal 3: Neural Reflection Field

It may be possible to generate a minor reflection field around vital nerves to delay or redirect pain input from the seal. Risk of paralysis.

Goal 4: Recovery Contingency

If seal removal fails and results in seizure/shutdown, create a sealed node that can reboot chakra flow manually.

Goal 5: Archive Access

Identify non-Hyuga sources of knowledge. Find allies. Study Uzumaki sealing theory.

Goal 6: Grow Strong, Unbelievably Strong

I were just strong, I could have just eliminated the threat. If i grow strong uncontrollably fast, main family could get alert. Also, refine acting skills to enact being weak while being strong.

Outside, a breeze stirred the courtyard. Hinata, only three, was asleep nearby with her caretaker humming lullabies.

Neji watched from his room's lattice window, thoughts twisting.

She will never be marked, he thought. But she will suffer anyway.

Because he could already see the elders whispering of her frailty. He saw Hiashi's measured sighs when she tripped during footwork drills. The clan had expectations for her—not because she was strong, but because she had to appear strong.

Neji hated it.

Not her.

The system.

And even though he was just five, with a cursed seal burning faintly against his head, he promised himself:

"I will become the blade that breaks this."

Not with rage.

Not with rebellion.

But with clarity.

As he slept that night, the seal pulsed faintly—a warm vibration against his forehead.

And in a vision, something answered.

He was floating in a dark space. The Hyuga compound was gone. The world was blue. Light pulsed in networks beneath him.

<Dream>

A voice, deep and ancient, echoed from within the seal:

"You saw me. I was waiting for someone to come to me."

Neji's child heart clenched, but recovered quickly.

But he carefully analysed this place, could it be the that true eyes has gained sentience or is it God who reincarnated me or something else entirely.

<Dream Ends>

As Neji drifted on the edge between waking and sleep, right before the dream shattered into fragments, he had almost heard it:A voice—deep, yet distant, like an echo in a long-forgotten temple.

The words had blurred together, incomprehensible then...But somewhere deep inside his subconscious, a fossil of meaning had been preserved, buried for now but waiting to resurface.

If Neji could have heard it clearly, the message would have sounded something like this:

"The seal is a lock... but locks are made by hands. Find the craftsman, not the key."

The words themselves were simple—yet dense with layers.

The tatami mats creaked softly as Neji jolted upright, sweat clinging to his forehead like a second skin. His chest rose and fell rapidly.Something had invaded his dream—a presence both colossal and elusive, like a hand brushing the strings of a harp before vanishing into mist.

Neji pressed a palm against his pounding heart, steadying himself. What... was that? It wasn't just a dream. His instincts, sharper than any kunai, told him so.

Without wasting a moment, Neji shut his eyes again, calling forth his True Eyes.

The world around him faded into a lattice of intricate light and energy—the secret blueprint of existence. He directed his perception inward, searching through the neural pathways of his brain.

"Memory... Memory is not just stored. It's encoded—chemical, electrical, ethereal."

With utmost care, Neji began probing the folds of his mind, attempting to stabilize the residual brainwave patterns linked to his recent REM cycle.He activated a narrow, precise focus of his True Eyes—something he was still refining—targeting the hippocampus and prefrontal cortex, areas responsible for dream retention.

He found... nothing.Or more accurately—fragments. Flickers of distorted impressions:A luminous silhouette.Whispered words that felt more ancient than the clan itself.A hand outstretched, but not quite reaching him.

Neji gritted his teeth. "There must be something left..." he whispered. His chakra pathways strained under the intense concentration, veins at his temple bulging slightly.

Again and again, he cycled through deeper states of self-induced meditation, forcing his True Eyes to scan and reconstruct missing fragments, as if piecing together a broken mirror.

And yet—failure.

---

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He fell back onto the mat, exhausted, chest heaving. His True Eyes flickered, then shut down completely, the chakra cost too high for now.

For a few minutes, Neji lay still, letting the silence envelop him.

"If he came once... then he can come again."

The thought floated gently across his mind, like a paper boat on a slow-moving stream. It anchored itself deep inside him—not as an obsession, but as a thread he would tug when the time was right.

Neji's brows furrowed slightly. He was only five years old, but somewhere in the corridors of his mind, resolve was crystallizing:

Next time... I'll be ready.

He would perfect his True Eyes to the point he could lock onto the spiritual signature—the Chakra Echo—left behind by dream visitors.

He would train his chakra to extend not just into physical matter but across mental planes—reaching memories, dreamscapes, even glimpses into the subconscious.

He would sharpen his inner vision until he could catch the very moment the entity manifested—whether in dream, illusion, or reality.

Neji turned his gaze toward the faint moonlight slipping through the paper window.

He knew...The entity would come again.And when it did, Neji would not be a helpless boy groping in the dark.

He would meet it with open eyes—eyes that would someday unravel even the deepest of destinies.

Quietly, Neji tucked the memory away into the vault of his future plans, somewhere behind his training goals, his secret studies of the seal, and his quiet rebellion against fate.

The path was long.The obstacles were immense.

But for the first time since the cursed seal marred his forehead, a small, steady flame burned in Neji's chest.A promise he made to himself, in the dead of night, under the watching stars:

One day, I will uncover everything.

<Next Morning>

The morning haze still clung to the Hyuga estate like a second skin when Neji, lost in quiet thought, wandered along the outer edges of the training fields.His mind was heavy with remnants of the dream—the Entity's fleeting appearance, the tantalizing but unreachable message—and the frustrating failure of his True Eyes to retrieve it.

The cold air bit at his cheeks.He had run countless simulations in his mind, countless patterns of chakra circulation and cerebral memory recall, yet nothing had yielded the clarity he sought, only the message left.Maybe next time, he consoled himself bitterly.

Absently dragging his hand along the wooden fence as he walked, he turned a corner—and stopped.

Before him, in a secluded part of the estate rarely used, stood a small figure.Hinata Hyuga, yet to reach three years old, practiced strikes against a battered wooden dummy.

She was small, almost delicate, her lavender eyes wide with focus. Her movements were clumsy but determined—short sticks in her hands substituting for training kunai.The sticks slapped awkwardly against the wood, but every now and then, one hit with precision.

Neji watched her quietly for a moment, a shadow of genuine surprise crossing his face.Alone? Out here?

Without thinking, he approached.

"Hinata-sama," he said with a small bow, slipping back into the polished demeanor expected of a five-year-old Branch family child. "What are you doing so far from the compound?"

Hinata whirled around, startled.The sticks fell from her hands with a hollow clatter.

"I—I...!" she started, but her words tangled together and collapsed into silence. Her face turned a soft shade of pink.

Neji smiled gently, softening his eyes—a mask, perfectly crafted over months of practice. "Training, right? I saw it. You were doing great."

Hinata fidgeted, fingers knotting together. "I... wanted to get stronger..."

"You can become strong," Neji said, his voice carrying a weight beyond his years.And it wasn't baseless encouragement. His True Eyes, flickering in the depths of his mind, had already revealed it to him:Hinata's chakra pathways were stunning. Her latent potential was dazzling—an echo, even, of the greats he had read about in the secret records.Her ceiling wasn't beneath him. It was alongside Naruto Uzumaki and Sasuke Uchiha, the titans yet to come.

But her chakra flow was hesitant, interrupted by deep emotional scars: shyness, fear of inadequacy, the internalized belief that she was unworthy.

If only she could overcome that...

"Hinata-sama," Neji said solemnly, "you have defeated me with ease. You just don't realize it yet."

Hinata blinked at him, startled.

Then, quite suddenly, she tilted her head and said, "Neji-san... why are you acting?"

Neji froze.

"What are you talking about?" he said smoothly, but a tiny alarm bell rang in his mind. Did she notice?

Hinata frowned slightly, struggling to find words. "I don't know... it just feels like... you're wearing something. Like..." She touched her chest uncertainly. "Like a... like a heavy mask."

Neji's heart skipped a beat.

It wasn't her mind that had sensed it.It was her instinct—something raw and primal within her, a sensitivity that even his True Eyes had failed to fully quantify yet.

Still, he couldn't admit anything. Not yet.

"You're imagining it, Hinata-sama," he said lightly. "I'm just me. Neji."He smiled again, perfectly crafted.

Hinata didn't look convinced, but she let it go with a small nod.

"Come," Neji said, his voice taking on a playful lilt. "Let's spar."

Hinata's eyes widened. "Spar?"

He nodded. "Nothing serious. Just a little match."

After a hesitant pause, Hinata bowed. "Yes!"

---

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[Clovis]

Hey, nice story. I know you have already written 50 or so chapters, so my remarks won't change anything.
From a reader PoV though, I felt the physical states of development of children is slightly off, and it pulled me a bit from the story. Suspension of disbelief and all that, you know...
In my family, children usually start standing and walking by one, one and a half at most, and you can be sure by five no kids are still having trouble running around unaided. It's not very important, I know. Still, I imagine kids with chakra systems would develop even faster, probably. The moment they can be taught, and follow basic instructions, they should be able to start developing faster, so I guess by five yo they should be quite strong already.
It's just random rambling, food for thought and all that. I like what you wrote !

 

[aizenDuchiha0]

Hey, nice story. I know you have already written 50 or so chapters, so my remarks won't change anything.
From a reader PoV though, I felt the physical states of development of children is slightly off, and it pulled me a bit from the story. Suspension of disbelief and all that, you know...
In my family, children usually start standing and walking by one, one and a half at most, and you can be sure by five no kids are still having trouble running around unaided. It's not very important, I know. Still, I imagine kids with chakra systems would develop even faster, probably. The moment they can be taught, and follow basic instructions, they should be able to start developing faster, so I guess by five yo they should be quite strong already.
It's just random rambling, food for thought and all that. I like what you wrote !

Click to shrink...

Hey Clovis, Thanks a ton for the thoughtful feedback - and honestly, you're absolutely right.

That one's totally on me - I definitely lost track of the age while writing that scene. Blame it on too much chakra and not enough coffee.

Appreciate you pointing it out. I'll keep a sharper eye on the kiddie power scaling going forward — after all, in the ninja world, toddlers are probably doing push-ups before they can pronounce "mama"

Glad you're enjoying the story despite my occasional timeline brain-fog.

 

[aizenDuchiha0]

A Note of Thanks to Samuel Steinike

Ōtsutsuki-Level Patron of Fate

In the vast scroll of Shinobi history, few names are etched in chakra and flame.
Today, we add one more: Samuel Steinike.

Your support transcends the ranks of jonin and kage —
You stand among the Ōtsutsuki, beings who reshape destiny itself.

Under moonlight and starlight, your presence bends the weave of fate.
Even the Sage of Six Paths would nod in respect.

Because of Ōtsutsuki like you, the story continues.
Battles rage, eyes awaken, legends are born — and it's your chakra that fuels it all.

From the Hidden Scrolls to the outer realms of time,

Thank you,
aizenDuchiha0

 

[aizenDuchiha0]

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---

The two squared off in the small clearing, leaves rustling around them.

Neji took his stance carefully—not the rigid, efficient posture he used during official training, but a looser, more fluid one.He had no intention of overwhelming Hinata. Instead, he planned to guide her, wordlessly, with the tempo of their spar.

As the match began, Neji whispered, voice low and only audible to Hinata:

"I wear a mask, Hinata-sama... one I can't remove yet. I need to grow stronger first."

Hinata blinked, stunned—but there was no time to ask.Neji moved, and she had to respond.

Strike—parry—step back—strike again.

Unlike Hiashi's harsh training sessions, Neji led her.When she faltered, he let his own guard falter a little too, gently encouraging her to press the attack.

When she overreached, he nudged her balance back into control.

Hinata, for the first time in her short life, felt something strange during a sparring match:Joy.

There was no crushing pressure to meet impossible expectations.No cold gaze judging her.Just a dance—awkward at first, then slowly, fluidly real.

Unknowingly, Hinata stopped stuttering.Stopped hesitating.Her strikes grew sharper, more confident.

Neji's heart swelled with quiet pride. She's learning... so quickly. With barely any instruction.

A pang of sorrow lanced through him, sharp and bitter.Hiashi fights her like an enemy, he thought grimly. Of course she struggles. She needs someone to nurture her, not break her.

Their spar spiraled faster, more intricate.Hinata's sticks found gaps in his defense; Neji deliberately widened them, inviting her growth.

Finally, with a decisive pivot, Hinata knocked Neji's wrist aside and tapped him firmly on the chest—where a real blow would have knocked him down.

The match ended.

Neji dropped to one knee theatrically, laughing softly.

Hinata stood over him, breathing heavily but smiling—really smiling, a bright, trembling thing.

Without hesitation, she offered her hand.

Neji, masking his emotions once more, took it and allowed her to pull him up.

"You could have defeated me now," Hinata said quietly."Just like you could have defeated me back then."

Neji froze.

"But you chose not to," she continued. "You're hiding something, Neji-san. I don't know what... but I'll find out. I'll find out myself."

Neji smiled again—warm, genuine this time.He didn't say anything. He couldn't.

Even Hiashi-sama and Elder Ranken couldn't see through my act, he thought with quiet awe. But she... she felt it.

Hinata, meanwhile, clenched her small fists.

Why does Neji-san wear a mask?Why does he look so determined and so mature when he thinks no one is watching?

She didn't understand it yet.But a seed of determination had been planted inside her.

<In Their Separate Ways>

Later that evening, back in his room, Neji lay on his futon, staring at the wooden ceiling beams.The dream... the Entity... Hinata's unexpected perception...

So much is changing, he thought.

The tactical delay he had planted into the Caged Bird Seal had only bought him a narrow window, not a permanent reprieve.His True Eyes had allowed him to scan and map the bio-ethereal framework of the seal during the branding process—a latticework of chakra threads deeply integrated into his very soul.

The seal wasn't just on his forehead.

It was woven into the fabric of his chakra system itself, like roots entwining around a tree.

To break it without dying, he would need more than power.He would need knowledge, precision, and control at a level even the Hokage might not possess.

But tonight, that wasn't the most important thing.

Tonight, he thought of Hinata.Her shy smile.Her clumsy but determined strikes.

Her quiet strength—still embryonic but unmistakable.

If she finds herself, Neji thought, she could become one of the strongest shinobi the Hyuga have ever seen.

And maybe... maybe he wouldn't have to wear the mask forever.

Maybe one day, someone like Hinata could reach him even where the True Eyes could not.

With that thought, Neji closed his eyes.

Far in the back of his mind, behind the intricate defenses of memory and willpower, the Entity's voice flickered once more:

"Find the craftsman, not the key."

A smile tugged at Neji's lips in the darkness.

If he came once... he can come again.

---

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The sun shone brightly on Konoha as the group from Kumogakure crossed the main street leading to the Hokage Tower. Their official procession was small: only seven members.Leading them was a man radiating dangerous calm — an elite jonin named Raikou Abashiri. Beside him walked a leaner, sharper-eyed shinobi, the tokubetsu jonin Hoshino Kari, flanked by five standard-looking chunin, each bearing the crest of the Cloud on their grey cloaks.

Hidden in the dense shadows of the tiled roofs, masked ANBU agents observed their every move.

One of the ANBU, codenamed Tora, whispered through the communicator,

"Strange. Only one elite jonin, one special jonin, and five chunin? For official peace talks with Konoha?"

His tone was both suspicious and disdainful. It was a slap in the face — bringing such a weak escort to discussions with the Hidden Leaf.

Another ANBU, Kawa, muttered,

"They're either extremely confident… or planning something subtle."

Overseeing it all was the calmest presence among them — Captain Kakashi Hatake, the man known as the Copy Ninja. His single visible eye, cool and analytical, flicked briefly over the Cloud delegation.

Kakashi spoke through the earpiece in a low tone,

"Don't underestimate them. Small teams can move faster… more surgically. Stay sharp."

The team acknowledged silently.

<Hokage Tower: Reception>

The heavy wooden doors creaked open as the Cloud diplomats were ushered inside.

Waiting for them in the large chamber were:

Hiruzen Sarutobi, the Third Hokage himself, in full formal robes.

Shikaku Nara, the brilliant strategist and head of the Nara Clan, standing with arms crossed lazily.

Several Chunin and Jonin guards stationed discreetly around the room.

The Cloud representatives bowed stiffly. Hiruzen offered a polite nod in return — diplomatic but emotionally distant.

Raikou Abashiri, with a voice like grinding stones, said,

"We thank you, Lord Hokage, for welcoming the delegation from Kumogakure. We come… in the spirit of peace."

Hiruzen smiled mildly but said nothing.

It was Shikaku who stepped forward, casual but razor-sharp behind his drooping eyelids.

"Let's move on to the terms, shall we?"

The Talks Begin

Over the next few hours, the nature of the Cloud's intentions became clearer. Their "peace" demands were outrageous:

Access to trading routes running directly through Konoha's territory.

Permission to open a "permanent embassy" inside Konoha — effectively, a spy house.

Request for technological exchanges — specifically, Konoha's sealing techniques and advanced medical jutsu.

Each demand was more absurd than the last.

Shikaku yawned exaggeratedly after one long list of requests, scratching his chin.

"Quite a wishlist you've got there, Raikou-san. Next you'll be asking for the Hokage's hat too, eh?"

Hoshino Kari, the thinner Cloud jonin, smirked coldly.

Raikou's face remained stoic.

Hiruzen finally spoke, voice calm but iron underneath:

"Konoha does not submit its sovereignty, nor its secrets, as a matter of peace."

The tension thickened.

Roaming the Village

Later that day, the "roaming request" was granted. Only after heavy debate.

Konoha assigned Kakashi Hatake to guide them — a deliberate move. Sending a weak escort would insult the Cloud. Sending someone like Kakashi sent a subtle message:

"We are strong. We are watching."

Kakashi, now without his ANBU mask but still carrying himself like a shadow, led the group across the bustling village.

Raikou eyed him with subtle interest.

"We see a festival being prepared. What occasion does Konoha celebrate?" Raikou asked, feigning casualness.

Kakashi, bored-sounding but polite, said,

"It is the third birthday of the Hyuga clan's heiress."

Hoshino Kari and a few of the Cloud chunin exchanged quick glances.

"The Hyuga…" murmured Hoshino.

"A powerful bloodline," Raikou added thoughtfully. "How fortunate to be born into such strength."

Kakashi said nothing, simply leading them onward.

He showed them:

The Academy training grounds.

The outer market streets.

The public park near the Hokage Mountain.

He avoided anything sensitive: ANBU HQ, Research Labs, Intelligence Division, Uchiha District.

Still, Raikou and Hoshino took careful mental notes.

Behind Closed Doors

That night, Shikaku and Hiruzen met privately.

Shikaku exhaled heavily,

"They're not negotiating for peace, Lord Hokage. They're sizing us up. Seeing how weak we've gotten after the Fourth's death."

Hiruzen nodded grimly.

"I know. They're trying to find cracks."

Shikaku tapped a shogi piece against the table absently.

"And the timing. The Hyuga heiress's birthday… this isn't coincidence. They're planning something."

Hiruzen's eyes hardened.

"Increase surveillance. Double ANBU rotations."

Cloud Delegation Private Meeting

Meanwhile, in their guest quarters, the Cloud shinobi held their own private meeting.

Raikou Abashiri leaned over a crude map of Konoha.

"We will not be able to push them further without exposing our true intentions," he said.

Hoshino Kari nodded, voice low and sharp.

"But we have the information we need. They are leaderless… shaken… vulnerable."

A chunin named Yagura Kujo spoke up,

"The Hyuga girl's celebration will stretch their resources. Guard posts will be lighter."

Hoshino smiled thinly.

"Exactly. During the celebration, we make our move."

Raikou's eyes glinted with cold calculation.

"The main family heir… if we can capture her…"

"we can breed our own Hyuga in Kumo and our strength will increase significantly," Hoshino finished.

The room fell into tense, excited silence.

<Next Day>

The next morning, the Cloud delegation was seen again, smiling, offering polite bows, pretending diplomacy.

Shikaku, watching them from the shadows, whispered to Kakashi nearby,

"They're playing it too smoothly. Kakashi… prepare your team. Something's going to break soon."

Kakashi's single eye narrowed under his silver hair.

"Already done."

---

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The evening sky draped a crimson veil over Konohagakure, casting long, wavering shadows across the tiled roofs. The Hyūga compound gleamed brightly in the distance, decorated with lanterns and banners, alive with the spirit of the heiress Hinata's third birthday celebration.

Inside the Hokage Tower, the atmosphere was anything but festive.

Shikaku Nara stood by the window, arms folded behind his back, gaze sharp. His mind raced faster than his heartbeat, weaving scenario after scenario like an intricate web. Across the room, Hiruzen Sarutobi, the aged but still formidable Third Hokage, quietly packed his pipe with fresh tobacco, waiting for Shikaku to finish his internal analysis.

"Their interest," Shikaku said finally, voice low, "has shifted. Drastically."

Hiruzen raised an eyebrow. "Shifted how?"

"They no longer show the slightest curiosity about the Hyūga. Not the Byakugan, not the clan's traditions, nothing. I've reviewed their diplomatic engagements, and there's a pattern. Their attention to our R&D departments, logistics routes, and even hinted about our Sealing Corps' operations isn't casual—it's methodical. They've asked about storage seals, chakra-reactive ink, even low-tier experimentation protocols."

Hiruzen exhaled a thin stream of smoke. "Meaning?"

Shikaku turned, his shadow falling across the office floor. "Meaning, Hokage-sama, they're diverting our attention. Their true aim might still be the Hyūga heir... or something else entirely hidden within our classified divisions. Either way, they intend to strike."

For a long moment, silence reigned.

Then Hiruzen nodded. "Increase ANBU surveillance at R&D and logistics immediately."

Shikaku hesitated. "We have already doubled the ANBU patrols around the Hyūga compound. We don't have enough elite operatives left to—"

"How is their behavior regarding the Hyūga heir's celebration?" Hiruzen interrupted.

"Passive. Almost dismissive."

The Hokage's gaze sharpened. He tapped the ash from his pipe into a tray, deep in thought.

"Then," Hiruzen decided, "reduce the Hyūga surveillance by half. Shift those teams toward R&D and Logistics. Keep it subtle."

Shikaku inclined his head, hiding his worry behind a placid expression. "As you command."

<Cloud Delegation Quarters>

Inside the guest house arranged for the Kumogakure diplomats, the atmosphere was entirely different.

The interior was modest but comfortable—sliding paper doors, tatami mats, a small garden pond visible from the back veranda. It was a traditional home of the Land of Fire, yet its current occupants eyed it like wolves trapped in a foreign den.

"Are you ready, Captain?" whispered Tokubetsu Jōnin Hoshino Kari, a tall, sharp-featured shinobi with hawkish eyes.

"Always," replied Elite Jōnin Raikou Abashiri, Kumogakure's appointed captain of the diplomatic team. His voice was quiet, but his eyes burned with ambition.

Hoshino smirked, polishing the edge of a kunai with the corner of his sleeve. "Having second thoughts?"

"Nonsense," Raikou said, a cruel glint in his eye. "This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. We can seize the Byakugan, harvest its bloodline... and breed our own branch of the Hyūga."

At the far end of the room, five Chūnin sat silently, their faces grim. Among them was a young prodigy, Yumi Kuro, barely sixteen yet already renowned for her finesse in infiltration techniques.

"We've successfully confused them," Kaito continued, pacing. "Our relentless questions about R&D and Sealing Techniques have forced them to reshuffle their guard posts. Their Hyūga defenses are thinner than ever."

Renga leaned in, voice even lower. "What about their Anbu Captain? That Hatake."


"Kakashi?" Kaito narrowed his eyes. "He's a threat. But he's currently tasked with overseeing us during daylight. At night, their vigilance falls. and our spy has conformed this."

Tonight would be the night.

The night Kumogakure would strike.

<Hokage Tower, Later That Evening>

Shikaku remained restless even after his meeting with Hiruzen.

Standing alone at the observation balcony, he overlooked the glowing lights of the Hyūga compound.

"Too easy," he muttered under his breath. "They've made it too easy."

He remembered something his father once told him: In war, a smiling enemy is a dagger waiting for your throat.

His instincts gnawed at him, whispering that something was still wrong but couldn't quite pinpoint it.

<Hyūga Compound>

The Hyuga compound stood quiet under the shade of the setting sun, its symmetrical courtyards glowing faintly with lanterns being lit in preparation for the following day's clan gathering. Every corridor buzzed with servants polishing polished wood and elders discussing arrangements. Yet amidst all the preparations, in the southern wing of the main house, a very different sort of preparation was underway.

Hiashi Hyuga stood tall and composed in the center of the main training hall. His voice was low and even, but there was a steely firmness threaded into every word. Across from him stood his daughter, Hinata, dressed in a pale lavender kimono that still felt too heavy on her three-year-old frame. Her hands were tucked in front of her, her posture stiff but fragile like a twig caught in a storm.

"You must understand, Hinata," Hiashi said, his arms behind his back, his pale eyes locked onto hers. "Tomorrow, the entire clan will see you. Every elder, every child, every member with a critical eye. The heiress of the Hyuga clan cannot afford to stumble. Not in posture. Not in speech. Not in presence."

Hinata's lips parted slightly, as though to reply—but she said nothing. Her heart beat faster with each word.

"Again," Hiashi said, nodding toward the mat. "Enter the room as you will tomorrow. With dignity."

---

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