In the forest, a squad of shinobi in white uniforms sprinted through the trees, faces set, not a word spoken.
Up front, a Cloud sensor paused for half a heartbeat, then moved his hands behind his back, fingers flashing in silent code. At once the whole unit broke formation, melting into brush and boughs, using leaves and branches as cover.
"What is it?" whispered an older, steadier Cloud ninja.
"Contact ahead. A four man team, heading straight toward us, very fast," the sensor murmured, eyes shut as he felt the chakra flow.
"Prepare the ambush," the captain said, short and sharp.
A younger Cloud genin frowned. "Captain, why would they be coming right at us, we infiltrated in secret."
"Do not forget those pale eyed freaks who showed up lately. Their eyes see too far, they ruined our game," another Cloud ninja grumbled.
Cloud's style lived on speed and sudden raids, hit here, stab there, vanish, a nightmare that left most armies helpless. But the Hyuga clan had flipped the board. With a Byakugan watching a kilometer out, speed became a countdown. Konoha had time to react, time to counter, time to trap. Cloud's wings were clipped, forced into straight up brawls, old tricks tossed to the wind.
This is why the Byakugan stands with the Sharingan and Rinnegan. The Sharingan empowers a single fighter, the Byakugan empowers an army, turning distance into vision, vision into strategy.
The veteran captain knew they had probably been spotted, but he would not poison morale with defeatist talk. He glared the complainer silent.
"Listen up. Even if they see us, Konoha only sent a four man cell. That is arrogance. They think we are nothing. This is our chance. Kill these four, then rush their camp while they redeploy."
"Understood?"
Heads dipped. Breath slowed. The forest went still. Only the sensor counted, lips moving as he measured approach and angle.
Fifty meters, forty, twenty, ten, now.
The four figures stopped. The sensor's eyes snapped open. Hiss, hiss, hiss, the sky filled with the thin whistle of steel.
We are made.
A rain of kunai arced overhead, crossing, colliding, changing paths as if tugged by invisible threads, then poured down from above.
Uchiha throwing arts, the Cloud squad realized at once. They had bled to those cursed trajectories before. But today, the lines seemed… off. The angles were too wide, the fall too far.
The sensor exhaled, relieved. "Sloppy Uchiha," he thought. "Fancy kunai mean nothing if they miss."
Then a soft yellow gleam flickered on the spinning blades. The world blinked, and a warm line kissed his throat. Darkness fell.
"The Yellow Flash," the captain rasped.
In a single shiver of light across the marked kunai, his platoon was gone, throats cut cleanly as pages torn from a book. Cold sweat burst across his back. He surged chakra to flee.
A blue lance punched through his heart. He looked along the lightning and met a pair of crimson eyes.
"Grim Eyes, Fugaku," he gurgled, and slumped.
"Captain, you promised I could finish the stragglers," Uchiha Sumi pouted.
Fugaku sheathed the strike with zero repentance. "Saw a head, hand got itchy, my bad," he said, not sounding sorry at all.
"Since Blondie joined," Sumi complained, side eyeing the sheepishly smiling Namikaze Minato, "we toss a few kunai, then go home. I am going moldy."
"This is called safe and efficient," Uchiha Retsu chuckled.
"My in law speaks truth. On a battlefield, safety is victory," Fugaku said.
Why "in law"? During small talk, Fugaku learned Retsu had a daughter the same age as Itachi, named Uchiha Izumi. That name rang like destiny. In canon, Izumi adored Itachi, yet his warped outlook would one day help doom the clan. If the father could nudge the son now, perhaps he could steer fate. Boys love might be pure, reproduction still matters, Fugaku wanted grandkids.
After relentless lobbying, Retsu agreed to a childhood betrothal, with one condition, if the kids did not like each other later, the match ends. Fugaku agreed instantly. In his heart, he was certain, Izumi already adored the boy in another life.
"Captain's hands were itching too," Sumi muttered. "You moved fast for someone pretending to be calm."
A wordless knife hand chopped Sumi's head lightly. Complaint resolved.
"Mission complete. Form up," Fugaku ordered.
They turned to go. Sumi tugged his sleeve. "Captain, what if we follow the path these Cloud troopers took in, just a little farther."
He grinned. "Do you think it would be fun?"
Fugaku paused, Sharingan dimming. The forest breathed. Somewhere ahead, the enemy route bent toward deeper lines. The Hyuga map was still open in his mind. Minato twirled a marked kunai between his fingers, eyes bright like a fox who smelled a henhouse.
"Fun," Fugaku said softly, "and useful."
"Yellow Flash, you take point," he added. "We will sweep their trail and cut the root."
Minato nodded. "Leave the markers to me."
Leaves shivered. Four shadows leapt, silent as falling ash.
Far behind, the forest slowly remembered birdsong.
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