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Hyuga Hizashi's steps were steady and precise.
Each step landed at a fixed distance.
This was a rule of the branch family.
He walked through the corridor, out of the courtyard, leaving the stifling atmosphere of the main family behind.
Until he pushed open the small gate of his own home.
The sound of the gate hinge turning was soft.
The courtyard was not large. A few unknown wildflowers grew in the corner, adding a touch of life to the dull household.
A woman stood under the eaves, holding a freshly dried coat, waiting for him quietly.
She was Hizashi's wife, also from the branch family.
Seeing Hizashi return, her face showed no particular emotion, but her pure Byakugan softened.
"You're back."
Her voice was gentle, like a soft breeze.
"Mm."
Hizashi responded, placing his luggage and money box under the eaves.
The woman walked forward, naturally taking the outer robe he took off, then picked up the dried coat and carefully helped him put it on.
Her fingers were nimble, her movements gentle, smoothing out every wrinkle on the clothes.
"Everything is ready," the woman said softly.
"Mm."
Hizashi replied again, reaching out and gently holding his wife's somewhat cold hand.
They did not speak again.
But in that silence, there flowed a tacit agreement and warmth that outsiders could not understand.
The two walked into the room side by side.
The room was not large, but it was meticulously tidy.
On the tatami, a small figure lay quietly in the futon, sleeping soundly.
That was their child, Neji.
Hyuga Neji.
Only a few months old, his small face was chubby, his eyelashes long, and he occasionally smacked his little mouth.
Hizashi knelt beside the futon. His usually straight back completely relaxed.
He reached out to touch his son, but his hand stopped in mid-air.
He looked down at his own hands, calloused hands that could instantly erupt in violence and kill.
He was afraid of disturbing his son's dream.
His wife noticed his hesitation, smiled, and pulled his hand over, gently placing it on the swaddling clothes.
"He's very well-behaved. He doesn't cry much."
"He's like you."
A smile finally appeared on Hizashi's face, a genuine smile from the heart.
He gazed at his son's sleeping form. His eyes were gentle.
"Neji..."
He whispered softly.
Freedom?
For him, it was a luxury and an irony.
But looking at his son before him, he suddenly felt that his journey might truly bring this child a real sense of freedom.
Perhaps he wouldn't have to bear that humiliating mark on his forehead.
Perhaps he wouldn't have to bow and scrape before the main family.
Perhaps he wouldn't have to be like him, a bird trapped in a cage, until death.
If he could achieve these things, what did his own life matter?
The daimyo... this title flashed through his mind, carrying reverence and a hope he hadn't even realized he possessed.
"On the way... be careful."
His wife, at some point, had nestled beside him, her head resting gently on his shoulder.
"Mm, I know."
Hizashi put his arm around her, savoring this rare moment of tenderness.
"Winter is coming soon. The capital will probably be very cold."
"It's fine. The clothes you made are very thick."
"Be careful with money."
"The stipend from the daimyo is generous. It's enough."
They chatted idly, talking about ordinary household matters.
Yet it was more reassuring than any solemn vows.
Time passed bit by bit.
The sky outside the window turned golden.
Hizashi knew he had to go.
He took one last look at his sleeping son, as if to engrave this adorable image into his mind.
Then, he slowly rose.
His wife also stood up, adjusting his clothes.
"I'm leaving."
"I'll wait for you to come back."
No more words were exchanged.
Hizashi picked up his luggage and money box, turned, and walked out the door.
The moment he stepped out of the room, the warmth of a husband and father instantly receded.
His figure once again became aloof and upright.
His wife stood behind the door, silently watching him.
He didn't look back, walking straight away.
The morning mist had not yet fully dispersed.
At the Konoha main gate, Hyuga Hizashi stood alone, his posture straight.
He was the earliest to arrive.
A gust of wind blew, and a figure walked from a distance.
It was Asuma Sarutobi.
Among the Guardian Shinobi, he was the youngest.
Seeing Hizashi, Asuma paused, then raised his hand in greeting.
"Morning, Hizashi-san."
He walked forward, speaking with a cheerful smile and a polite tone. "I didn't expect you to be even earlier than me."
As the Third Hokage's son, Asuma knew how to interact with these elites from prominent clans.
Hizashi was a little surprised.
He knew Asuma's rebellious nature, so he didn't expect him to be so polite.
He also politely nodded. "Morning, Asuma."
Asuma habitually pulled out his cigarette case, flicked one out, and put it in his mouth.
His hand was about to reach for a lighter, but his movement stopped.
He looked at Hizashi, then at the cigarette between his fingers.
He clicked his tongue and withdrew his hand, just keeping the unlit cigarette in his mouth.
Asuma leaned lazily against the gatepost. "We'll be working together for ten years."
"A place like the capital must have tons of rules. Just thinking about it gives me a headache."
"Perhaps. Everywhere has many rules!"
The two chatted idly.
Soon, three more figures arrived together.
They were shinobi from the Ino-Shika-Cho clans.
The Nara clansman leading them saw Asuma and raised his chin. "Asuma, you're here too!"
"Yeah, you guys are pretty early too."
Asuma responded with a smile, clearly very familiar with them.
Before he finished speaking, a figure instantly appeared—an Uchiha shinobi.
His expression, like most Uchiha, was aloof, and his gaze swept across the scene.
He nodded, a form of greeting, then stood alone on the other side, maintaining his distance.
This wasn't hostility. Everyone present understood that.
This was simply the Uchiha's usual style.
They also knew that once on the battlefield, the Uchiha were the most reliable comrades. Unless they died, they would never let their teammates be harmed.
Subsequently, shinobi from the Inuzuka clan, the Aburame clan, the Kurama clan... arrived one after another.
Some of them were familiar with each other, having even saved each other's lives on the battlefield.
Meeting now, they nodded and conversed.
Finally, two young men walked over, their steps reserved.
They were Kazuma and Natsukawa, outstanding individuals who had emerged from among the civilian shinobi.
Seeing the elites from the major clans, they instinctively stopped at the periphery.
Asuma noticed them and waved. "Hey, you two, come over here. Don't stand so far away."
This gesture immediately made the two relax considerably, and they walked over gratefully.
Eleven people, Konoha's Guardian Shinobi.
Now, all were present.
They came from different clans, had different backgrounds, and vastly different personalities.
There were rebels like Asuma, a Hokage's son who yearned to escape his father's shadow.
There were elite members of prominent clans like Hizashi, burdened by clan destiny.
And there were civilian geniuses like Kazuma and Natsukawa, eager to prove themselves.
But from today, they would share a common identity.
A common object of loyalty.
They looked at each other.
Because they knew in their hearts that from the moment they stepped out of Konoha's main gate, they would be the daimyo's direct Guardian Shinobi, colleagues who would work together for ten years.
Asuma looked around, counted the heads, and took the cigarette from his mouth.
"There are eleven of us here. Everyone should be present."
"I heard my father say that the last of the Guardian Shinobi Twelve is Great Master Chiriku, the guardian monk of the Fire Temple. He will meet us in the capital. Does anyone have any questions?"
No one spoke.
The shinobi from the major clans remained calm, clearly having known this already.
Kazuma and Natsukawa, however, showed some surprise in their eyes, not expecting there to be non-Konoha members in this team.
Asuma nodded at their reaction. "Since there are no questions, let's depart! I can't wait!"
He said no more, taking the first step forward.
Hyuga Hizashi followed closely.
The others also tacitly followed.
The moment they stepped out of the village gate, without a single word exchanged, their formation instantly spread out, forming a standard alert formation.
The road ahead was unknown, but those traveling together, at least for now, were comrades.
Their destination was the capital.