"Satoru… you must protect your little sister well in the future. Make sure her world is full of color and joy."
Hyuga Hanako's tone softened as she spoke. Her eyes, warm yet shadowed with worry, seemed to drift far beyond the present moment. Whatever she was thinking clearly weighed on her heart.
Satoru's breath caught slightly. After a short silence, he nodded with rare gravity.
"Mother, don't worry. I'll protect her—no matter what."
He understood what lay beneath her words. The rigid hierarchy of the Hyuga clan—the unbreakable divide between the Main Family and the Branch Family—was like an invisible curse binding every member from birth.
As the son of the Main Family, Satoru was born among the privileged few. But any child born after him—his mother's next child—would inevitably bear the Caged Bird Cursed Seal, bound to the Branch Family for life.
And for a girl, that fate was often even crueler.
Hanako smiled faintly, her sadness tempered with affection. "Mm. I believe in you. My Satoru is the greatest genius the Hyuga have seen in a hundred years. If it's you… you'll surely protect your sister."
Perhaps to lighten the mood, she played along with his prediction, already calling the unborn child "little sister."
As mother and son spoke softly of the future, the shoji door slid open with a gentle creak.
Hyuga Hiashi stepped in, now dressed in a light, casual kimono. His sharp gaze swept briefly over Hanako before settling on his son.
"Have you finished your training for the day?"
As always, his first words weren't for his wife, but for his heir.
"Yes, Father," Satoru replied promptly. "After tea, I continued my chakra shape manipulation drills and some taijutsu forms. I trained until my chakra reserves were nearly depleted."
He tilted his head slightly. "You weren't home this afternoon. Did something important happen?"
Hiashi nodded, satisfaction flickering briefly in his eyes. "I went to the Hokage Building," he said casually. "Didn't you tell me you wanted to learn the Flying Thunder God Technique? I spoke with the Third Hokage. He's agreed to let you access the Scroll of Seals for one week."
He said it with deliberate calm—but the pride in his tone was impossible to miss.
Hanako looked up from her knitting, chuckled softly, then lowered her gaze again, the needles clinking rhythmically in her hands.
Satoru froze. "Borrow… the Scroll of Seals? For a week?!"
For a moment, he thought he'd misheard.
Just that afternoon, they had only talked about it as an idea—and by evening, Hiashi had already gone to the Hokage and made it happen.
The speed alone was astonishing. The influence behind it, even more so.
The Scroll of Seals—Konoha's most guarded archive of forbidden techniques—was restricted even to most jonin. For a five-year-old child to be granted access? That was unthinkable.
Only now did Satoru truly realize the full weight of the Hyuga name within Konoha.
Hiashi smirked, clearly savoring his son's astonishment. "Heh, surprised, are you?"
"I am the head of the Hyuga Clan. There's nothing in this village your father cannot accomplish." His tone swelled with pride. "For your growth, the Hyuga will pay any price. The Scroll of Seals? Hmph—trivial."
It wasn't arrogance alone; it was the satisfaction of a father who, for once, could do something for his extraordinary son.
Satoru had always been the prodigy—too gifted, too composed. Rarely did Hiashi have a chance to feel like the one leading. And now, being able to grant his son's wish so quickly filled him with a kind of clumsy joy that only a father could understand.
A normal child might not have noticed. But Satoru—who carried two lifetimes' worth of awareness—saw it clearly. This was Hiashi's way of showing love.
And though that love carried the weight of expectation, Satoru didn't mind. Their goals, after all, aligned perfectly.
They both sought strength.
In the end, what men pursued—power, control, survival—was universal. And Satoru wanted strength above all else.
"Thank you, Father," Satoru said sincerely, rising to bow deeply.
Hiashi blinked, caught off guard by the formal gratitude. Then, after an awkward pause, he grunted, "Hmph! What are you thanking me for? You're my pride and joy, Satoru."
Even the stern clan head couldn't quite suppress his emotion. He reached out and ruffled his son's hair gently, the corners of his mouth softening into a rare smile.
The setting sun filtered through the shoji, bathing the three of them in golden warmth—a fleeting, perfect image of family peace.
"The Flying Thunder God Technique…" Satoru murmured, his eyes gleaming. "I can't wait."
The next morning, Satoru followed his father through the bustling streets of Konoha toward the Hokage Building.
It had been months since he last left the Hyuga compound—and that had only been for a funeral, mourning a clansman who had fallen in the Third Great Ninja War.
Outside of the Hyuga estate and the memorial stone, he had seen almost nothing of the village he lived in.
Today, then, was like unlocking a new map in this world.
As they walked, Hiashi spoke without looking back.
"Satoru, remember to be polite when you meet the Hokage. You may speak casually with the Third and Fourth—they won't mind, since you're still a child. But listen carefully…"
He paused for emphasis.
"The Scroll of Seals is top secret. You must not speak of it to anyone—not even to those within the clan. And more importantly, no matter how many jutsu you see recorded there, you are to study only the Flying Thunder God. The rest are strictly off-limits."
"This is for your own good. Do you understand?"
As they drew closer to the Hokage Building, more shinobi filled the streets. chunin, special jonin, even full jonin—all stopped to bow respectfully as Hiashi passed.
Though he held no official position in Konoha's military structure, his status as Hyuga Clan Head carried immense weight. He was the kind of man who commanded respect simply by being.
Hiashi returned no greetings, striding forward with calm dignity. To strangers, his silence might have seemed haughty—but to the shinobi of Konoha, it was simply the Hyuga way.
Behind that cool facade, however, Hiashi's mind was entirely on his son.
He had repeated these warnings again and again. He knew too well how dangerous the Scroll of Seals was.
Every forbidden technique within it carried hidden costs—deadly risks even seasoned shinobi feared. And his son, gifted yet curious, might not know where to stop.
"I understand, Father," Satoru replied earnestly. "Even with the Flying Thunder God, I won't rush into practice before fully grasping its principles—and its dangers."
Hiashi's eyes softened. His son's calm maturity reassured him more than he would ever admit aloud.
Satoru, meanwhile, smiled inwardly.
He had no intention of letting arrogance blind him.
In another life, perhaps he might have played the fool—boasting of genius, flaunting power. But not here. Not in this world.
As a transmigrator, he knew better than anyone: in the ninja world, arrogance was death.
He'd once joked to himself, "Thirty years east of the river, thirty years west—don't underestimate the young."
But if he truly failed here, if he fell from grace as a Hyuga heir—
He wouldn't even get thirty years to rise again.
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