Naruto: The White-eyed Demon

[aizenDuchiha0]

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Hinata stepped back to the hall's entrance and took a slow breath. She walked forward, trying to keep her feet aligned, her back straight, and her gaze ahead, as she had been shown.

"Stop," Hiashi interrupted halfway through. "You're too hesitant. You hesitate because you lack conviction. The clan cannot follow a girl who doubts herself."

He didn't raise his voice, but his disappointment was clear. Hinata flinched.

"Again."

Again, she walked.

And again, he stopped her. This time, it was her posture. Then her hesitation. Then her inability to project her voice. Her shoulders sagged a little more with each attempt.

"Straighten your spine. Speak like you believe your words. The Hyuga heiress represents centuries of honor. Would your ancestors walk like that?"

Hinata lowered her head. She wanted to disappear.

"Again."

They repeated the drills until the paper lanterns outside had all been lit. The hall had grown cold, and her small feet ached from stepping and turning, walking and kneeling. At last, Hiashi sighed.

"We'll continue tomorrow morning," he said. "You may leave."

She bowed silently and shuffled out, keeping her gaze down. Once she passed the hallway's corner, she leaned against the wooden pillar and let out a long breath she had held in all evening. A dull ache pulsed behind her eyes.

"Why is Father always like that…" she whispered to herself. "I try… I really try."

She sat at the base of a wooden veranda, hugging her knees to her chest.

It wasn't just about the walking or the bowing. It was about who she was supposed to be. Someone proud, poised, untouchable. Someone whose eyes didn't drift downward or whose voice didn't quiver. Someone like…

Her mind wandered again.

To Neji.

Lately, I noticed something off.

He still laughed sometimes when he played with other children. He asked questions and greeted elders properly. But… Hinata had started to instinctually felt something that didn't quite match.

That thought stirred something deeper. Something unspoken.

She buried her face against her arms.

She heard footsteps approaching and quickly wiped her eyes.

A gentle voice called, "Hinata-sama?"

It was one of the branch family caretakers, an older woman who had watched her since infancy.

"There you are. It's late. You'll catch a cold if you sit out here too long."

Hinata nodded and stood up. "Sorry. I was… just thinking."

The woman smiled gently. "Big day tomorrow. Don't let the nerves take you away tonight."

Hinata smiled back—but it felt paper-thin.

Back in her room, under the futon's covers, her thoughts continued to swirl.

What did it mean to be a Hyuga?

Was it just strength, posture, and tradition?

Or was it also what was hidden beneath the surface—like whatever Neji was hiding?

She drifted to sleep slowly, without answers, but with a growing determination she didn't fully understand yet.

Cloud Village Guest Residence – Later That Night

The night air was still and heavy with tension around the temporary residence of the Cloud delegation. The soft rustle of leaves was the only sound accompanying the dim glow of the lanterns, their warm light casting long shadows against the tatami walls. Inside, the elite jounin of the Cloud delegation, known as Raikou, stood near a window, his arms crossed and eyes narrowed, sensing the flow of chakra across the environment like a man feeling for subtle changes in the wind before a storm.

"The ANBU monitoring us aren't sensory types," Raikou said lowly. His voice was calm, but each syllable carried the edge of someone who had stalked prey across battlefields and borders. "I've watched their patrol patterns. Their detection grid is more visual-based."

Tokubetsu Jounin Hoshino leaned forward slightly, unconvinced. "Are you sure, Captain? We can't screw up the plan at this point. And what of Kakashi? He's the Copy Ninja — his instincts alone make him a threat."

Raikou didn't flinch. "Don't underestimate me. I was chosen for this mission because I can disappear from the notice of all but the most advanced sensory types. Even the Hyuga struggle to track me once I initiate my concealment technique."

He pulled out a thin slip of chakra-infused paper marked with a specialized ink seal. "When this seal burns, it means I've failed — and that I'm dead. You'll know when to act."

Hoshino hesitated for a moment, then accepted the paper, his gloved hand trembling slightly.

---

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[aizenDuchiha0]

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Raikou turned away, his form dissolving into the shadows as he invoked his clan's hidden jutsu — Yurei no Kage (Phantom Shadow). This technique manipulated the tiniest fluctuations in environmental chakra and personal presence, making him undetectable to most standard ninjutsu and dōjutsu alike. He needed three kilometers of buffer to activate it. Any closer to the Hyuga estate and their elites might pick up on his disruption.

He moved quickly but carefully, hopping from rooftop to rooftop, weaving through alleys with calculated steps. The moonlight flickered behind clouds, the air sharp with anticipation. Each step was measured. Every breath was controlled.

By the time he was within half a kilometer of the Hyuga compound, his pulse had slowed to a methodical rhythm. His jutsu held strong, but he could feel the early tremors of exhaustion at the edges of his limbs. The technique drained stamina at a steady rate, and soon the margin for error would vanish.

He slipped into the perimeter, bypassing a patrolling Hyuga with a quick vault over the tiled wall. For a few minutes, he was surrounded by nothing but silent homes — elegant wooden halls lit with minimal lanterns. Paper screens muffled conversations within.

Raikou paused at a junction within the compound, crouched behind a stacked woodpile. Two Hyuga chunin passed by, chatting softly. One of them, a younger male, spoke with a hint of admiration

"Tomorrow's the heiress's third birthday. You work in the inner estate, right? Have you seen her recently?"

"Yeah," the other replied, his voice quiet. "She seemed kind of sad today."

Raikou's ears perked up. 'Inner estate,' he thought. 'Then I'm close.'

He followed their direction discreetly, sticking to shadows, slipping between walls, and adjusting his path to avoid light. Sure enough, as he advanced, the guards became more frequent and concentrated. He recognized this as the hub of the main family's residence.

Fatigue gnawed at his core. His jutsu flickered for a moment before he re-stabilized it with sheer willpower. 'Only a few minutes left,' he reminded himself. 'The target must be close.'

Earlier reconnaissance had been slow and clumsy — the compound's symmetry made navigation difficult for outsiders. But a minor breakthrough changed everything. As Raikou explored the outer estate, he found an old scroll tucked among diplomatic materials back at their quarters — a spy's sketch of the Hyuga family tree and a rough diagram of key room placements.

The scroll listed where the heiress might sleep, based on guard movement and ceremonial expectations, but not the exact location. That room was close now — he could feel it.

Raikou darted across a narrow hallway and stepped into a modest, lantern-lit courtyard. There were two guards posted at the main doors. He watched, calculating, then crept along the outer wall. Through a small window, he caught a glimpse of a small futon laid out near a hearth.

This was it.

He entered silently, his breathing shallow, his senses narrowed to a sharp point. There she was — a tiny form curled up on the futon, her breathing light and slow. Her dark indigo hair framed her face, and even in sleep, her expression seemed troubled.

Raikou crept closer, drawing a special capture scroll with one hand. It glowed faintly with binding chakra. Just a moment more...

Then it hit him — a ripple in chakra. Subtle. Almost imperceptible. But real.

He froze.

"Hinata-sama?" a Hyuga guard called softly. "Are you alright?"

The jutsu began to unravel.

Panic surged in his chest.

'I must act now!'

He surged forward, scroll glowing.

But the moment his hand touched the air near Hinata, a burst of defensive chakra exploded outward — a Hyuga barrier seal he hadn't detected.

Thrown against the wall with a crash, the jutsu collapsed.

Alarms screamed into the night. Footsteps echoed everywhere.

Raikou, bleeding and gasping, looked up into the eyes of the sleeping heiress as her lids fluttered open.

She looked into his eyes with confusion… and something else.

'No time,' he thought.

---

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[aizenDuchiha0]

What I'm about to do to Hinata may stay with you.
This isn't gentle. It isn't fair. And it's definitely not for the soft-hearted.

If your day's already been rough,
if your heart's carrying a little too much today - come back later.
Protect your peace first.

But if you're ready to see innocence tested,
then you may proceed.

You've been warned.

 

[aizenDuchiha0]

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The night ruptured like a severed artery.

Screams tore through the Hyuga estate—raw, frantic, wet with blood. Hiashi Hyuga snapped awake, not from slumber, but from instinct, battle-honed nerves already tightening like a vice. His Byakugan erupted into vision, veins bulging, his heartbeat a war drum. Blood. Everywhere.

He didn't need to move to smell it.Didn't need to breathe to taste it.

The scent clung to the air like rot.Something ancient, savage, had seeped into the clan's sacred ground.

And then—he saw it.

Raikou.

The defected wretch stood in the moon-soaked courtyard like a statue of rot. Cloaked in corrupted chakra that twitched and flickered like a flame on spoiled oil, his frame trembled with madness. And in his clawed grip—

Hinata.

Her body hung like a slaughtered rabbit. One eye gushed blood, the optic nerve dangling like a torn thread from her skull. The other eye—wide, glimmering with tears—was fixed on something distant, maybe heaven, maybe hell.

Hiashi didn't scream.

He moved.

He tore through the compound like a divine executioner, chakra screaming through his meridians as Eighty-Four Palms detonated forward. His fingers didn't touch flesh—they pierced, shredded, ripped through Raikou's joints like iron needles.

Tendons snapped. Bone splintered. Nerve endings boiled under his touch.

Raikou shrieked—his own stolen Byakugan eye dropping to the ground with a wet plop. A twitching pearl in a puddle of his sins.

Hinata collapsed in a heap.A twitch.A gasp.A whimper that sounded like it came from the bottom of the world.

"Otou-sama..." she choked, teeth pink with blood. "Did I... did I uphold the Hyuga's pride...?"

Hiashi didn't answer.He couldn't.

Because Raikou was still breathing.

"I'm going to crush this eye!" Raikou spat, blood-froth bubbling from his lips. But his fingers were ruined—spasming claws more than hands. He raised the eye with the last ounce of strength.

Hiashi's voice was colder than death.

"Try."

Then came the Rotation.

But this was no defense. No elegant flourish.This was a storm of butcher's intent.

The chakra storm ripped through Raikou—flesh tearing from bone, ribs cracking open like dry timber. Organs twisted, burst, liquefied. His scream gurgled and cut short as his body collapsed in on itself, a meat puppet with its strings severed.

Raikou's body slumped to the ground in a heap of pulp and blood. His head hit the earth with a sickening crack.

Hiashi knelt.

Hinata was still warm.

Still breathing.

Barely.

Far above. In the dark. A witness.

Neji.

Crouched on a tall tree, the boy had seen it all. Every second. Every scream. Every drop of his cousin's blood etched into his soul.

And something inside him snapped.

His gums bled from the force of his teeth grinding together. His nails dug crescent moons into his cheek. And from the wound—a glow.

The Moon Mask.

It formed like frost from vengeance. A silver film of chakra that crept over his face and sank into his flesh like molten sorrow. Born not of power. But of hate.

Hinata—his only light in that house of silence—had been defiled.

He vanished.

Hiashi didn't sleep.

He sat by Hinata's bed. Her face was wrapped in thick bandages soaked in antiseptic and grief. Her eye—gone. Chakra—flickering. Her hand clutched the sheets even in unconsciousness, as if afraid the world might vanish if she let go.

The stolen eye lay preserved on a silver tray beside her bed, wrapped in a sterile cloth like a sacred offering to a god of pain.

Hiashi couldn't look at it. Couldn't scream.

Raikou had been no lone madman. He had been guided.

The clan was fracturing.

Elsewhere. Deep in the Hyuga crypts.

A door groaned open. Candles flickered, then died.

Neji stepped into the dark.

He moved without sound, his chakra now cold, devoid of the warmth of family or innocence. The Moon Mask had grown—now a full half-helm of silver-blue chakra, veined with jagged streaks like cracks in glass.

His old scars had vanished. The pain had been burned from his body. What remained was precision.Purpose.

Neji began reading the forbidden scrolls of the Hyuga archives.Not to rebel.Not to usurp.

But to create a weapon so devastating, so surgically perfect, that none would ever touch Hinata again.

Not punished.Not imprisoned.

Erased.

Hiashi finally rose from Hinata's bedside.

His fists were white. His resolve colder than the grave. He called the elders into council and stared into their eyes—some smug, some afraid.

"You let this happen," he said. "Through silence. Through tradition. Through cowardice."

No one spoke.

Hiashi didn't ask for permission. He declared:

"The Hyuga will change. Or I will burn this name into ash."

And somewhere in the Hyuga compound…

In the places where old blood dries on stone…

Neji sat cross-legged, surrounded by seals and blades.

His new eyes opened.

Not white. Not human.

A fusion of Byakugan clarity and the Moon Mask's raw vengeance.

Silver-blue. Merciless. Unforgiving.

---

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[Rustic]

This last chapter really doesnt make sense.

 

[aizenDuchiha0]

This last chapter really doesnt make sense.

Click to shrink...

Well, I'm guessing you're talking about the moon mask. It's true - it won't make much sense just yet. Just know that it's one of the power-ups, and it's connected to his True Eyes: 真眼 (Shingan).

 

[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 ash-etched parchment crumbled like charred skin beneath Hoshino's gloved hand.

Its scorched edges whispered of a conspiracy consumed by its own fire. The faint heat still clung to it, like breath on a corpse. Inside the Cloud delegation's quarters—silent as a crypt in Konoha's heart—Hoshino turned, his face carved from cold resolve, though the beast behind his eyes twitched, hungry.

"So," he murmured, each syllable like a blade scraped across stone, "the trap broke its teeth."

Behind him, a boy in a man's armor nodded. A Chūnin, young enough to still dream of peace, old enough to know better. He did not speak. He knew the ritual.

"You will scream," Hoshino continued. "Rage. Cry. Be the cracked vessel that spills our grief. You are the mask. I am the fist behind it."

Then came the second Chūnin—his eyes wide, his breath ragged. He stormed in, voice strangled with feigned panic.

"Hoshino-sama! The Captain—he's gone!"

The timing was perfect. So perfect it stank of premeditation. Hoshino liked the smell.

"Did you scour every dark place?" he asked, voice low, dangerous.

"All of them," the boy choked. "No sign. I… I suspect Konoha's hands…"

The words fell like meat into a wolf pit.

The shadows stirred. The ANBU lurking in the walls breathed louder. Chakra flickered like bared fangs. Someone—a watcher, a predator—twitched. The game had begun.

Hoshino didn't wait. He turned, the tails of his robe slashing the air like a butcher's smock. He walked with purpose, not away from the lie—but deeper into it.

The Hokage Tower bled amber lamplight like a wound.

Hoshino stood beneath its oaken maw and roared, voice echoing like a war drum.

"Hokage! A guest is dead in your village. A captain. A diplomat. We demand your eyes, your truth—and perhaps your throat."

The ANBU at the gates hesitated, and that moment of pause fed Hoshino's hunger. He saw the doubt bloom. Delicious.

Inside, the War Room was no longer just a council chamber. It was a den of age-wearied beasts. Hiruzen, the ape-king, sat among his carrion court. Shikaku Nara leaned forward, the faintest gleam of fear behind his wisdom.

"Call Kakashi," Hiruzen said, the words crumbling like old bones.

The silver ghost appeared moments later, ozone on his breath. He whispered to the Hokage. What he said drained the old man's eyes.

Hoshino leaned in like a wolf pressing his nose to a wound.

"Speak, Jōnin. Let's hear your village scream."

Kakashi lifted his mask only enough to let the words rot the air.

"Raikou is dead. Killed by Hiashi Hyūga. He tried to steal their child—the Hyūga heiress."

And then the mask shattered.

The Chūnin wailed—a raw, animal scream. Another cursed, his voice gurgling with false bile. Spittle flew. Fists clenched. Righteous fury—so precise, it almost gleamed.

"Konoha did this!"

"They planned it!"

"This is bloodshed wrapped in lies!"

The room buckled under the noise.

But Hoshino—still, silent—raised a hand. The storm stopped. He turned to the Hokage with the calm of a priest delivering last rites.

"Our captain died here. Your clan head's hands are slick with his blood. We demand retribution. Give us Hiashi Hyūga."

Hiruzen said, voice barely above decay. "We need time."

"You have until tomorrow, the next day Lightning will be in front of the fire village" Hoshino replied, stepping forward until he could see the cracks in the Hokage's soul.

Later, beneath the tower's gut, darkness whispered.

Hiruzen gathered his old ghosts: Shikaku, Koharu, Homura. Their faces were ash and paper.

"This was always a ritual," Shikaku muttered. "A blood rite. They never wanted the child. They wanted war."

"The abduction happened," Hiruzen rasped. "But everything after—it's theater built on a corpse."

"What do we give them?" Koharu whispered.

"His body?" Homura asked. "There is none."

"Hiashi crushed him. His organs burst like rotting fruit."

"Then they'll say we burned the evidence," Shikaku replied. "Because we did."

The silence grew roots.

"I need time," Hiruzen said. "One day to birth a lie worthy of peace."

Back in the Kumo quarters, incense curled like smoke from a funeral pyre.

Hoshino sat cross-legged, the storm now coiled in his lap.

"They'll stall," he said. "They think delay is safety. But delay is rot."

"They'll never hand him over," one spat.

"They don't need to," Hoshino whispered. "By dawn, this village will be festering with guilt and doubt. That's the infection we need. The war won't start with kunai—it will begin in their dreams."

"And if they find the truth?"

"By then…" Hoshino opened his eyes.

"…lightning will already be splitting the Leaf open."

---

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