The sound in the trees drew Hyuga eyes as one. White irises flared; the forest's interior bloomed open like ink washed thin.
Hyuga Hizashi stepped to Satoru's side and murmured, "It's Konoha border troops."
"Then I leave the field to you, Uncle," Hyuga Satoru said softly. "I'll return to camp first."
He passed Ao's severed head to Hizashi. One look was enough—Hizashi understood. He nodded once, took the grisly proof, and Satoru vanished in a silent flicker.
The Hyuga camp lay only a few hundred meters away. This wasn't flight; it was caution. Satoru had no desire to broadcast the full scope of his abilities. Prestige inside the Hyuga was enough. With clan standing came village leverage; he didn't need the whole of Konoha to know what he could do.
Danzo's public defeat had stirred talk—but Root's leader was never famed for open combat. To most shinobi he was a rumor with a title. Ao was different. An elite of Kirigakure with a name that had bloodied Konoha's reports, the Byakugan Killer carried weight. That, precisely, was why this kill would remain within the clan. Power hidden is power that survives.
Before the border unit arrived, Hizashi produced a sealing scroll. With a practiced sweep, he sealed Ao's head and stowed the scroll away.
Four Leaf shinobi broke the tree line and landed on damp, blood-specked earth. Forehead protectors flashed. The lead—a lean young man with a faint mouth-corner scar—couldn't be past twenty.
"...Yamashiro?" Hizashi called.
The youth's eyes flicked across the field, measuring. "Aoba Yamashiro," he said, polite and light. "We sensed a disturbance and moved to intercept. Didn't expect to find Hyuga operating at the border."
"May I ask your purpose here?"
"A classified mission," Hizashi replied evenly. "Objective achieved. We're withdrawing."
The tone closed further questions. Aoba inclined his head. "Understood. I'll still have to file what we observed. Protocol. One thing only—does Lord Fourth know of this operation?"
"Yes," Hizashi said. "The Fourth is aware."
"Then we won't intrude." Aoba turned, lifted two fingers; his squad melted back into the green. Hidden scouts, planted as insurance, slipped away after him.
Branches whispered overhead as they ran. One subordinate couldn't hold it in. "Captain, just like that? So many Hyuga this deep—and that headless body... It didn't look like Gentle Fist. What if—"
"There's no 'what if,'" Aoba cut in, cool. "If I'm right, that corpse was Ao of the Mist—the so-called Byakugan Killer."
Border officers learned enemy faces by heart. Even headless, the blue field gear and kit told its story. Understanding dawned. The Hyuga had reclaimed what was theirs.
Awe flashed in Aoba's eyes—and unease took root. Why was Ao alone, inside Fire Country, without a Mist detachment? What kind of op had the Hyuga run?
He shelved it. "Keep it quiet," he ordered. "I'll report. No rumors." Offending a great clan was a fast way to end a career—or a life.
"Yes, sir!"
…
After the patrol withdrew, Hyuga teams erased every trace. Ao's body went a dozen miles out and deep into the earth. Only then did Satoru string his invisible lifeline of Flying Thunder God marks back across Fire Country, shuttling the unit home in jumps.
The recovery would not be public. The fewer who knew the better—especially with Biwa Juzo in play. Once Kirigakure noticed Ao's disappearance, they'd investigate; Juzo's break would surface soon enough. Whether they'd tie the threads together was uncertain, but as long as Juzo stayed unfound, the Mist wouldn't know the Hyuga had taken Ao's head.
Information gaps are opportunities.
A day later, the strike force slid into Konoha unseen, not even troubling the gate guards. Word of Satoru's return hit the Hyuga compound like thunder.
At the elders' summons, branch leaders gathered in the ancestral hall. Before the altar, Hizashi unsealed the scroll and set Ao's head on the offering table. Byakugan flared. Every Hyuga present verified it with their own eyes—the right socket was empty. The stolen Byakugan was no longer in the thief's skull.
Relief broke into smiles. The lost eye had been a thorn in the clan's heart for years; even Hyuga Hiashi had come home wounded and empty-handed from his hunt. Many had given up hope.
Now Hiashi's eldest son had done what the clan head could not. In three days at the border, Satoru killed Ao and reclaimed the bloodline. The elders were elated. Power meant safety; with Satoru rising, the Hyuga's next generation would be carved from stone.
When the rites ended, Satoru withdrew to his residence. Reporting to the Hokage fell to Hizashi.
…
In the Hokage's office, Namikaze Minato listened as Hizashi laid out the operation. Quietly, he mapped capability to capability. The picture that formed astonished him.
Somewhere between boy and man, the Hyuga heir had outpaced prodigies like Kakashi—at least in potential. Minato remembered the Third's private worry: "A rising Hyuga… is that truly what Konoha needs?"
Minato had his answer. Yes.
Strength deterred predators. Kumo snarled and Kiri cut because Konoha had bled too long. A stronger Hyuga was a stronger Leaf. With Uchiha Obito still a shadow on Minato's mind, another pillar to lean on was welcome.
He honored the clan's wish for secrecy. No public fanfare. But in council, and to the Third, he made no effort to hide the truth—and he did not minimize Satoru's role. It was acknowledgement and warning both. The Hyuga's ascent would not be tripped by Root again.
Predictably, Sarutobi Hiruzen passed the news to Shimura Danzo with hopes it would cool his schemes. It did the opposite. Stung by inadequacy, Danzo penned a coded letter to Orochimaru, promising funds and personnel in exchange for speed on Hashirama Cell work. Minato had forbidden it; Root and Snake moved in the dark regardless. The boy named Tenzo in ANBU was one such product.
…
On the Kiri front, Orochimaru received Danzo's letter and recalled a recent border note from Aoba Yamashiro about Hyuga massing near Fire's edge. Two pieces snapped together.
"The Byakugan… heh." His tongue slid over his teeth. "Interesting… but not the prize." His true obsessions were Senju grafts and Edo Tensei. War stretched on, which suited him fine. War meant material. In peace, human trials were difficult. In the ruins of Uzushio, who counted the missing? As long as the world burned, his laboratory would never go cold.
Beneath Konoha's calm surface, forces wound tight, waiting for the next break.
And inside the Uchiha compound, resentment thickened like storm clouds.
The Uchiha Police Force had clamped down during wartime, but firm hands felt like chokeholds to civilians. Friction spread. At clan meetings, voices sharpened—angry, radical, loud.
Uchiha Fugaku tried to ease the pressure, to bridge village and clan; gentleness, to his own people, looked too close to weakness. Step by step, the current pushed him forward—by the will of the Uchiha themselves.
The undercurrent strengthened. The next storm would not be fought only at the border.
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