The council chamber smelled faintly of cedar oil and old parchment. Lamps along the walls burned low, their light making the carved clan symbols gleam faintly. Hiashi knelt at the center of the chamber, posture perfectly straight. Before him sat the elders, four men in formal robes, their white eyes watching him with the weight of tradition.
He had only just returned from the Hokage's office. His words still echoed in his mind: Hiruzen's calm voice, his careful phrasing, his gentle assurances that were anything but gentle underneath.
Elder Hotsuma was the first to speak. His voice was deep, measured, carrying authority."Well? What did the Hokage say of Miwa's… incident?"
Hiashi inclined his head slightly. "The Hokage expressed regret. He said Kirigakure's theft of the Byakugan will not be tolerated. He has ordered stricter patrols along the border and has assured me that the village will act to prevent further losses."
Elder Kaien leaned forward, a thin smile tugging at his lips. "Assurances. Promises. Hm. Did he commit troops? Did he vow to retrieve what was stolen?"
"No," Hiashi admitted. "He said only that our clan should remain vigilant. He implied that we are best positioned to safeguard our own secrets."
Ensho, calm as ever, tapped his fingers lightly on his knee. "And that is exactly what we will do. We cannot allow this shame to stand. A Byakugan lost to foreign hands… it is unthinkable. It must be reclaimed."
There were nods around the chamber. Hiashi kept his face still. So predictable…
Hotsuma tapped his cane against the floor once. "We will answer this insult with strength. The branch family will be mobilized. They will go to the border, hunt down those who dare touch our eyes, and bring back what was stolen."
"Send the branch?" Hiashi said before he could stop himself. His tone was even, but his thoughts churned. Always the branch. Always their blood first.
Kaien gave him a long look. "Of course. The branch exist for this very purpose. To protect the Byakugan, to serve the clan's honor. Is that not their duty, Hiashi?"
Hiashi lowered his eyes slightly. "…It is."
Iroh gave a short laugh. "And more than that—it is an opportunity. If our branch family strikes hard, the whole village will see our strength. While the Uchiha and Hokage faction quarrel among themselves, the Hyūga will earn honor on the battlefield. And honor translates into influence."
Ensho's voice was smooth, almost casual. "The Hokage is aging. Sooner or later, the question will be asked—who leads after him? If our clan distinguishes itself in this war, the answer may tilt in our favor."
The words settled heavily. Hiashi remained silent, but his mind reeled. So this is what they want. Not just the eye back. Not just revenge against Kiri. They're thinking of the Hokage's seat.
Hotsuma spoke again, his tone slow, deliberate. "Konoha is strong, but it is not unshakable. The Senju have faded into history. The Uchiha… they cling to their pride, but even they cannot withstand the Hokage's suspicion forever. When they stumble—and they will—it will be the Hyūga who must rise. This war gives us that chance."
Kaien smiled thinly. "The Uchiha they will be weakened after this war or perhaps even erased like Senju and when they fall, who else is left? The Aburame? The Nara? No. None have the strength, the discipline, the blood that we carry. The Hyūga will be the backbone of the village. Perhaps even its face."
The elders nodded to one another, their satisfaction obvious.
Hiashi kept his gaze lowered, his hands resting on his knees. Outwardly, obedient. Inwardly, every word burned. Fools. You think if the Uchiha fall, the Hokage will hand you power? No. He will look at us next. To him, clans are threats. Today it is the Uchiha. Tomorrow, it will be us. But you're too blinded by ambition to see it.
Still, he said nothing.
Ensho leaned forward slightly. "Hiashi. You will oversee preparations. Select the branch members most suitable for this task. Ensure they are ready to move within the week."
Hiashi bowed his head. "Yes. It will be done."
"Good," Hotsuma said, satisfied. "Let this be the beginning. We will show the Hokage, the Uchiha, and all of Konoha that the Hyūga cannot be slighted. We will reclaim our eyes. And when the time comes, the village will turn to us for guidance."
Iroh smirked. "And perhaps, one day soon, a Hyūga will sit where Sarutobi now sits."
The others murmured approval, the idea clearly pleasing them.
Hiashi stayed where he was, eyes lowered, posture perfect. He had played his role—dutiful, compliant, respectful. Not one of them could see the storm beneath the calm mask.
They dream of thrones. But all I see are targets painted on our backs.
The meeting went on, the elders discussing logistics, names, supplies. Hiashi listened, silent, each word adding to the weight pressing on his chest.
When at last the elders dismissed him, he rose smoothly, bowed, and left the chamber. The cool night air outside the council hall hit his face, sharp and clear. He let out a slow breath, the first hint of relief since he'd stepped inside.
His mind, however, was far from calm. He thought of Miwa, pale and broken, her empty eye socket became a wound to the entire clan. He thought of the branch members who would be called up, most of them young, most of them with no choice.
And he thought, as he walked through the quiet compound toward his own home:
The elders think they are playing a game of power. But they are playing with fire. And when it burns, it will not stop with them.
Branch Family Quaters
The Branch family quarters always felt like a different world compared to the Main House. The walls were plainer, the paths narrower, the gardens trimmed without flourish. Everything here was functional, modest, without the ornament the Main House considered its birthright.
Hizashi moved along the stone path with the stillness of habit, hands folded behind his back. People bowed as he passed. Their gazes slid downward, never lingering. Even here, among their own, the cursed seal kept their eyes lowered. Respect was replaced by fear; acknowledgment by silence.
This is what we are to them. Useful, bound, and silent.
The central courtyard was already full. Dozens of pale-eyed shinobi stood in rows, the faint morning chill clinging to their breath. Behind them, children clung to mothers' sleeves, peeking from the doorways. Some bore the mark already, others not yet, but all knew what awaited them.
Hizashi stepped forward, his voice cutting through the quiet."The Elders have given their decision. We are to move to the Kiri border."
The words carried like a thrown stone in water. The ripple was immediate—shoulders tensed, jaws tightened, murmurs hissed low. No one spoke loudly, but everyone understood.
"Our mission is to find and eliminate the Mist shinobi known as Ao. He carries what was stolen from us—one of our Byakugan. The honor of the clan demands its return."
At the edge of the group, Miwa lowered her head. The bandage across her left eye caught the light.
Someone muttered, just loud enough to be heard, "Because she lost it."
The whisper cut sharper than steel. A few heads turned toward Miwa, resentment flickering in pale eyes. Others said nothing but shifted uneasily.
Hizashi ignored it, though his jaw set. He spoke louder."We will do as ordered. Assemble your gear. Be ready to leave within the day."
A chorus answered as one. "Yes, Leader."
Obedience. Flat. Empty.
After dismissal, the courtyard broke into smaller knots of voices. Hizashi stayed back, listening without appearing to.
Near the well, a young man named Riku tugged at the straps of his vest, his face pale. He was barely seventeen."We're being sent to die," he whispered to Hana, who stood beside him.
Hana, older and steadier, tied scrolls to her pack with calm hands. "We're being sent to fight. There's a difference."
Riku gave a short, bitter laugh. "Not much." He touched his forehead, fingers brushing the seal hidden under his headband. "We can't refuse, can we? Even if we wanted to. That's what they count on."
Hana's lips pressed thin, but she didn't argue.
From a few paces away, Daichi—one of the senior fighters, his face weathered with years of missions—spoke as he adjusted his kunai holster."Whether we die or not isn't the point. What matters is the mission. We bring the eye back, we prove ourselves. That's how we show we're not lesser."
Riku's expression twisted. "Prove ourselves to who? The Main House? The Elders? They'll never see us as more than tools."
Daichi didn't flinch. His gaze was steady, almost hard. "Then at least we'll know for ourselves."
Not far from them, two women spoke in hushed tones while watching Miwa, who stood apart.
"She should have fought harder," one whispered. "If she hadn't lost, none of this would be happening."
The other shook her head, softer in her tone. "Don't. You know Miwa. She was always the first to help us. Always smiling. If it wasn't her, it would've been someone else."
"But it was her."
Miwa's shoulders curled slightly, as if she felt every word even when not spoken aloud.
A hand touched her arm lightly. She turned to see an older woman, Aya, who had once trained alongside her. Aya's voice was gentle."Miwa. Don't carry this alone. The Branch family would have been sent anyway. You know that. This isn't your fault."
Miwa tried to answer, but her throat tightened. She managed only a whisper. "If I hadn't failed…"
Aya shook her head firmly. "Enough. You've given enough already. None of us asked for this curse, but we carry it together. Don't blame yourself for what the Elders chose to do long before this happened."
For a moment, Miwa's good eye shimmered with something close to tears. She quickly blinked it away, turning her gaze down.
Elsewhere, a man sat alone on the steps, staring blankly at the ground. He didn't pack, didn't speak. Just stared. His name was Kenta, though most had stopped trying to reach him.
"Kenta," someone called. No response. His spirit had broken years ago under missions, under seals, under the weight of knowing nothing would ever change. He would fight when told, because the seal left him no choice. But that was all.
Hizashi's eyes lingered on him a moment longer than the others. A man still breathing, but already gone.
As dusk fell, the courtyard became a hive of quiet preparation. Packs were filled, weapons checked, armor tightened. Children watched silently from doorways, learning early the lesson all Branch carried: duty before self.
Miwa moved among them, slow and subdued, but some still stopped to offer her words. Hana clasped her shoulder once, saying simply, "We're with you." Aya pressed food into her hands, telling her to eat. Even Riku, pale and trembling, forced a half-smile when their eyes met.
For all the bitterness, for all the blame, there was still that thread—thin, fragile, but there. The Branch looked after their own, because no one else would.
When everything was ready, Hizashi stood once more at the front. His voice was calm, steady, though his chest felt heavy."Form up. We march at dawn."
The Branch family answered in unison. "Yes, Leader."
Steady. Resigned. Obedient.
Hizashi watched them bow, then rise, pale eyes reflecting the torchlight. Miwa stood among them, shoulders squared despite her hollow gaze. Riku clutched his pack too tightly, Hana stood tall, Daichi's face was set in stone, and Kenta didn't blink at all.
Some go in fear. Some in defiance. Some in hope. Some in despair. All go because they must.
As the courtyard emptied, Hizashi remained. His eyes lifted toward the Main compound's tall walls, rising above like watchtowers.
They call this honor. They call this loyalty. But we know the truth. We are the ones they send to bleed. We are the ones bound to die while they dream of glory.
The night wind stirred the lanterns, their light flickering across his face.
And tomorrow, I will lead them to it anyway.