Akihiro finally managed to push the door open and entered. The cool air of the room was a contrast to the damp, sun-drenched street. The space was simple and tidy: a single futon laid out, a small desk with a few scrolls, and the stand for his katana. It was a refuge from the chaos he had just left and his internal turmoil.
He let go of his katana. It hit the floor, the sound echoing in the room.
His head hammered with every beat of his heart. The taste of sake still lingered on his tongue, and a wave of nausea washed over him. He collapsed onto his futon, groaning softly as he pressed a cold hand against his forehead.
The morning's memories replayed in his mind: Mika's leg, Reika's muffled groans, Sayuri's malicious smile, and the unsettling thought of Nezuko-sensei. The party scene felt like a dream, ridiculous and indecent. But the headache was real.
However, the upcoming practical exams brought reality back. He had to show up, prove he wasn't a failure, even if it meant betraying the "Gentle Fist Way" in favor of his own.
Still that morning, the air on the training field was tense. The practical exams were designed to test each apprentice's combat skills and mastery of the Gentle Fist. Akihiro's opponent was a year older, a confident young man named Kaito who had always looked down on him.
"You're a disgrace to the clan," Kaito sneered, taking his stance. "I saw you last week. A disaster. If you can't even hit a single fist point, what are you going to do with a sword? Will you cut yourself and cry?"
Akihiro ignored the insult, his pale eyes narrowing. He assumed a loose, almost lazy stance, a posture that earned a grimace from his instructor.
'At least I don't have a small dick and my wife doesn't need to put out the fire with half the clan.' It was not the impeccable, disciplined form of a Hyūga. It was the posture of a coiled serpent or something, unassuming, but ready to attack.
He didn't focus on his tenketsus; instead, he closed his eyes and let his senses expand, feeling the natural chakra of the trees, the subtle changes in the air, and, most importantly, the flow of chakra inside his opponent.
'It's getting more and more natural to use the sword...'
Kaito advanced, a textbook Gentle Fist figure. His first strike, a precise fingertip, aimed at Akihiro's chest.
"It's over for you!" Kaito shouted.
But Akihiro didn't move.
The blunt side of his katana interposed, a dry crack echoing as the blade met Kaito's palm.
Kaito's chakra, about to be unleashed, was abruptly sealed. The muscles in his arm stiffened, locking the attack in place.
"What the hell was that?" Kaito bellowed.
Kaito's eyes widened in surprise.
He pivoted, a series of quick, fluid strikes aimed at Akihiro's torso.
Kaito, with his eyes fixed on the blade, launched a series of quick, fluid strikes, an avalanche of fingers aimed at Akihiro's torso. "You're pathetic! You can't even react like a real Hyūga!"
With each advance, Akihiro's katana responded with short, precise movements. The second strike, aimed at the ribs, was deflected by the sword's tip with a hissing sound. "React? I'd rather avoid the humiliation of being like you. So short, so poor..."
Kaito, frustrated, tried a side blow to the torso. "What your..." Akihiro's blade blocked the strike against his wrist. The impact was quick, dull. Kaito let out a grunt, the pain and shock locking the word in his throat.
Akihiro's katana, almost motionless, seemed to just slide, Kaito's third strike being absorbed by a wrist flick, without force or resistance. "Your chakra is so linear, it's like reading a children's book."
Kaito tried to bypass the sword, launching a quick, desperate kick. "Shut up! You're nothing!"
The flat surface of the katana moved to intercept, containing the kick. "Look at that, the dog is barking," Akihiro muttered with a bitter smile.
The impact was dull, but Kaito felt his leg lose all energy, as if the force of his own technique had been drained, not the pain of the collision. He staggered backward, frustration visible on his face.
"I can't... my body... what did you do?" Kaito gasped.
Kaito's fluid movements became stiff. He felt his own chakra, once a torrent, be abruptly interrupted with each touch of the blade. His arms, which should have delivered quick strikes, seemed to weigh a ton.
The agility that was his trademark was replaced by a frustrating slowness. He tried one more kick, and his leg, upon meeting the sword, seemed to lose all power, falling without momentum. He was being dismantled, piece by piece, and he didn't understand how.
A muffled thump echoed through the training field. Kaito staggered backward, holding his shoulder. It wasn't a debilitating blow, but it was unconventional and it worked.
"What was that?" the instructor's voice demanded, his tone a mix of confusion and anger. "That wasn't the Gentle Fist! You must act like a Hyuga, where do you think you are? In the damned Bloody Mist Village? We don't use swords here!"
Akihiro opened his eyes. The breath he hadn't realized he was holding escaped slowly. Mental exhaustion and pride filled his body.
He had taken a risk by abandoning traditional techniques and embarking on a self-taught path, and it was paying off. The instructor's contempt and Kaito's words now seemed insignificant.
His sword worked. He felt he had found a path of his own.
'But it's still not enough… I need to be atomic. The only way not to be a cannon fodder.'
"You're right," he said, his voice calm but firm. "It's not, obviously. The Gentle Fist is a martial art of fists. My art is more... brutal. Even if I don't cut off the flow of chakra, I can choose to cut my opponent in two. Which I think is reasonable."
'Even if I see my technique as nothing but pure art, I can't wound the pride of these blind traditionalists any further.'
The instructor's face was a mask of fury and contemplation, his eyes piercing Akihiro's.
"Silence, how dare you answer me? You, a mere member of the branch..."
An elder of the main family, with severe features, approached Akihiro.
His voice was grave and emotionless. "Come," he said. "The Caged Bird Seal ceremony will be held now. The clan cannot wait."
Akihiro followed the elder in silence down a narrow hallway, cold sweat trickling down the back of his neck.
His hand, instinctively, gripped the hilt of the katana hanging at his waist.
A single thought repeated in his mind like a drumbeat in the darkness:
'Fuck. Just when I thought I had found a way out, they pull me back into this hell.'
The seal... the mark of his "destiny".
He suppressed the urge to run, to break formation, to simply blow up the elder.
'Fuck the clan. Fuck this shit. Shit... I'm the one who's fucked... if I run, I'm declared a nukenin and will be hunted and killed, if I stay, I'm enslaved... for a second it seemed like things were going so well...'
The elder spoke calmly.
"The seal is not a punishment, it is a protection. You must not be angry with the clan. It ensures that the secrets of the Byakugan never fall into enemy hands, even after death. It is a burden that all of us in the branch family carry to ensure the safety of the main family and the survival of the clan. And also a means to protect, so that other hidden villages do not come after our people, for they know it would be fruitless."
He paused, his voice becoming harsher. "This is not a burden, it is a purpose. It is the weight we carry with pride. The other villages respect us because they know our secret is safe. It is the law."
'This main family son of a bitch talking about the duty the branch carries as if it were his own… Shit, I want to cut that old man in half…'
Akihiro clenched his fists so hard he felt his nails dig into his palms.
'Duty? Purpose? Just call me a tool. Call me a disposable weapon of this damn clan. Let me burn in a chakra explosion if an enemy dares to touch me or anything like that.' The revulsion he felt was a poison running in his veins.
'A burden we carry? You're the parasites. Fuck.'
Even if there was a logic behind it, a 'greater good', too much water had passed under that bridge, and nowadays it was used as control, like masters and slaves.
They arrived at a small, austere chamber, with bare stone walls and dry bloodstains on the surface. The air was heavy.
'I swear I'll find a way to get rid of this seal! And then... every woman in this clan will be mine and every man will be my slave!'
The elder gestured for Akihiro to stand still.
Akihiro felt the ice from the walls penetrate his knees. He looked at the door, calculating the distance, the speed.
'I can't run. Not even escape. Only if I become a renegade, a traitor, a damned nukenin. Destiny is fucking me over, so what can I do now?' His teeth clenched. 'That's it. I'm trapped. Trapped in this body, in this destiny, in this shit clan.'
The elder's hand stopped over his forehead. Akihiro held his breath.
'I'll live to see you get fucked, fuck this shit clan. Just wait. And I will live. I won't die like a dog, I'll break this seal and do the same as that cuck Itachi, I'll massacre my own clan!'
The elder raised his hand to apply the seal to Akihiro's forehead, his wrinkled fingers ready to seal his fate.
The chamber door suddenly opened, revealing the figure of Hiashi Hyūga.
"Stop," Hiashi said, his voice calm and emotionless, but with an authority that made the elder freeze.
"But clan leader, it hasn't been done yet," the elder tried to explain.
"Follow me," the leader said, his voice calm and emotionless, not even looking at the elder. "We have matters to discuss."
Akihiro nodded, confused, and followed him out of the room. They walked down a hallway, their footsteps echoing in the silence.
'Shit… so close… my heart… fuck, they're messing with me…'
"Your instructor told me you haven't mastered the Gentle Fist," the leader began, his voice low. "He was furious. But what I saw today was the response of a true ninja. A ninja adapts, no matter the cost, even going against traditions. Tell me, how is your team? Do you get along with your teammates?"
"Thank you, clan leader," Akihiro let out a small sigh of relief. "It fills me with pride to be praised by you."
"About my team, my teammates and sensei are... intense," Akihiro replied.
The leader let out a sound of approval. "Your sword technique... your instructor told me it seemed to use the Gentle Fist as a base, but he was unable to describe it completely. An interesting approach for a Hyūga."
"I wouldn't say it uses the Gentle Fist as a base, since I don't have the talent for Taijutsu," Akihiro said, his voice firmer.
"My kenjutsu makes use of the Byakugan, I tried to use our kekkei genkai in a way beyond where it was proven I wasn't capable..."
The leader looked at him, his pale eyes expressionless. "An extraordinary perception. It's interesting to see the clan's small sprouts treading a new path, tell me more about your team, how would you define them?"
Akihiro explained the team's dynamic. "Sir. Sayuri is a genjutsu specialist, Mika in support, and Reika in taijutsu. Their... intensity creates the perfect distraction for me to use my sword technique to neutralize enemies, besides being the team's sensory ninja. It's a different style from the clan's traditional one, but effective. Of course, it's all deduction, we haven't done any missions yet."
"Your analysis is interesting. And about my daughter, Hinata, I was told you are close."
Akihiro felt a shiver. "She is... a good friend. I respect and consider her very much. And she has a special strength and a unique personality, an exceptional person."
"I know she wanted to be on your team. She has a gentle and sensitive heart. The life of a shinobi can be hard."
Akihiro said: "She'll do well, sir. She has a strength people don't see. She just needs to find a way."
The leader let out a slight sound of approval.
They stopped in front of a heavy, dark wooden door, without any clan insignia. Before Akihiro could think more about the question, the leader opened the door.
The smell of sake and morning perfume was replaced by the smell of hot tea and paper.
The air in the room was tranquil.
An older man was seated, drinking tea slowly, his eyes fixed on Akihiro. It was Danzo Shimura.
'Damn… out of the frying pan, into the fire…'