Everyone had been concerned, but the final result... being in Yumegakure no longer felt exhausting—not inside the Silver Nodes, and not even outside them. Mitsue's case also improved. While within a Silver Node she was completely stable under Yumegakure's protective flow; outside, she still weakened, but it was a vast improvement over what had come before.
Seeing me calm and safe, the others finally relaxed enough to accept my request: to remain behind a little longer. I needed time to reflect, to adapt to the change I felt with the awakening of my bloodline. Takama, Hanabi, and Kurenai weren't exactly thrilled. They had responsibilities in the waking world—but they understood. I needed time to meditate, to understand myself before returning and confronting reality again.
I sat alone beneath the tree—the same one where I first touched the natural energy of Yumegakure. I could still feel my blood, absorbed into its roots and bark. An intuitive connection formed between us, and as it did, I sensed a quiet desire from the tree itself... and the world around me. Just for a moment, the blood on the bark shimmered, turning to silver motes of light that floated upward into the sky and disappeared into the branches.
Time stopped. My mind expanded, spiraling backward through every memory of my life—even those fractured childhood moments where I had once been split in two. My first meeting with Kuro. Leaving my clan. Meeting Kurenai, Shino, and Kiba. Takama. Maeko. The Land of Iron. Joys, regrets, losses and triumphs—they flowed through me in a moment that lasted for what felt like years.
And somewhere in that space of stillness... I felt someone watching. Quietly. Worried.
I smiled. "You can come out, Michel."
He stepped from thin air, concern still on his face. "How do you feel... now that you're finally free?"
"In the end, it was never just one seal," I said quietly. "I thought it was just the Hyūga's mark—but that wasn't true. When I began breaking the seal left by Shikashi, the Hyūga seal reacted to it and merged with it. Together, they formed something far more powerful—something that bound not just my body, but my spirit. That's why I couldn't see, even in Yumegakure. But the fusion wasn't perfect. I had fractured it before. Something inside was always pushing through. It was that fracture—and Yumegakure's help—that finally let me break both."
Michel nodded, his spirit quieter now, easier to read. His old suspicions had become truths, but they were things he had never voiced—because he couldn't change them.
"So," he asked gently, "how do you feel now, compared to before?"
"Like I've been reborn," I answered. "This body feels new. Thought and reaction flow as one. The boundary between physical and spiritual doesn't feel real anymore. The Byakugan is gone—it had to evolve long ago. Now... I think of it as the Eye of my Mind. My World of Intent. A spiritual perception that reaches beyond. I can see clearly, far beyond what should be possible, and yet it doesn't overwhelm me. It feels... familiar. As if my body trained for this. Maybe through my spiritual clones... it did. The limit I once had—to manifest spirit into matter only three times—I believe that's changed."
Michel frowned. "I wish I could tell you to take more time to meditate, to explore these changes as you've done these past two days. But I'm afraid the Shinigami has already begun to move. A portal has opened... in the Land of Wind."
<<<< o >>>>
I never thought I would witness a war here—of all places. But reality has a way of surprising me whenever my daughter is involved.
The samurai under my command had been preparing ever since Michel warned us of the Shinigami's intentions. Word spread quickly through the Land of Iron within Yumegakure, and the people answered once more. Blacksmiths began forging weapons and armor. Warriors returned to training grounds. Even those who had retired stirred with purpose.
Hundreds of thousands of samurai stood ready. Still, the fact that this battle would take place while most of the samurai of the real Land of Iron slept was troubling. So many had volunteered to fight in Yumegakure's defense that we had to organize a rotating schedule to keep the waking world guarded.
Thanks to the Silver Nodes, our logistics were swifter than expected. Though the days spent organizing the movement of forces were exhausting, I welcomed the effort. For my daughter. For this land we swore to protect.
Then came Michel's message: a massive portal was opening.
The spiritual plane of Yumegakure and the physical world of the Land of Iron stirred as one. Thousands of samurai—young and old—closed their eyes, willingly stepping into a battle that might mark both an ending and a beginning. And they did so with a smile.
When I found my daughter again, she stood in the form known to many as the Silver Lady. She walked above the battlefield as though the very air beneath her had solidified—perhaps, in Yumegakure, it had.
We crossed through the portal and emerged into an unrelenting desert. Before us, dark fissures yawned open across the landscape—wounds in reality itself. The land trembled. And I knew it was not just the earth, but something deeper. Something spiritual.
From those rifts emerged figures bearing the emblems of ancient and extinct clans—clans lost during the Warring States Period. As their souls entered Yumegakure, the realm reanimated them with breath and energy. Yet none of them truly lived. They were hollow—powerful but devoid of essence.
Above each of these undead clans floated masked figures in black, with white, horned masks: Shinigami. Each one commanded a regiment.
They outnumbered us five to one.
And still, around me, the samurai stood tall. I could feel their hearts beating in unison, like the drums of war—except those drums were within their chests. All of them ready. All of them proud.
Overhead, my daughter watched with solemnity. Her gaze fixed on one central figure—a towering Shinigami hovering above the others. Their leader.
With a wave of her hand, the world responded with a wave of absurd proportions. The sand moved like water that lashed out at the enemy army... when the sand dropped from the air... and it could be seen... only half of the enemy army remained, the wave had swept the other half beyond this battlefield. A smile appeared on my face, at least she makes sure to make things interesting.
The ground battle was brutal. The shinobi and samurai of the Warring States were forged in endless conflict. Even the children of that era had been killers, hardened by necessity. But time changes all things. Techniques evolve. The modern samurai, trained in the breath styles of the Land of Iron, had reached levels undreamt of by their ancestors.
The clash of swords, Jutsus and numerous blood limits made the encounter of armies on land a nightmare... but our cohesion and coordinated military training allowed us an edge that marked a true absolute difference, even with a minority in numbers.
In the skies, the clash was transcendent.
When the Shinigami commander confronted Hinata—now fully awakened in her Silver Stage—he no longer had the advantage of surprise. Their first encounter had ended in her defeat only because of that surprise and his overwhelming force.
But this time, the ground was even.
And on equal footing, the Shinigami faltered.
Hinata tried to reason with him. She tried to find a middle ground. She offered peace. Understanding. He refused. His determination, clear by all to see.
He attacked with thorn-like lances of shadow, striking at her blind spots while giving time for his shinigami lieutenants to flank her. She moved slowly with clarity and grace, slipping between assaults as if she danced with inevitability. Then, with one gesture—one unspoken will—those minor Shinigami vanished. I heard only the sonic boom as they were erased from existence.
Their absence had consequences.
The ancient warriors below, freed from their puppet masters, began to awaken. The light in their hollow eyes returned and their faces showed clear signs of confusion. And as control slipped, the great Shinigami saw his influence collapse. He retreated.
Hinata tried to follow him, but his response was an attack clearly aimed at his former army, a strange ball of black energy... one that Hinata had to redirect with her silver sword to avoid a catastrophe, the fate of the terrible attack impacted kilometers away with an explosion that quickly generated a sandstorm, the same making it clear that the shinigami could not be underestimated.
Even from afar, I could see it clearly—he had learned from this encounter as much as we had.
And the war... had only just begun.