The Hyūga clan meeting hall was silent, but not peaceful. Its stillness was oppressive, heavy as judgment itself. Lanterns burned low, their light stretching long shadows across the polished floor. At the far wall, the carved crest of the All-Seeing Eye loomed over everything—an emblem of vision and vigilance, but also of control.
At the central seat sat Hyūga Haishi, the clan head, his posture composed though his spirit was not. Even his presence was diminished beside the four Main Branch Elders seated in authority. Their pale eyes glimmered coldly, centuries of tradition and power resting in their gaze.
Below them, Hyūga Hizashi stood stiff with formality. The cursed seal burned faintly upon his brow, a brand that marked his obedience. Beside him, Miwa stood in her neat robes, but her body betrayed her—shoulders trembling, her head bowed. A bandage covered her right eye; the other looked hollow with despair.
The silence fractured when Elder Iroh spoke, his voice rough and cutting."So this is the fate of a Main Branch child. Miwa Hyūga, who has brought disgrace not only upon herself but upon the entire clan."
Elder Kaien leaned forward, lips curling in disdain. "You allowed the Byakugan to fall into enemy hands. Not Konoha shinobi—not even an ally—but the Mist. Do you grasp what you have done?"
Miwa's throat tightened. Heat flushed her cheeks. "I… tried to—"
Her words were cut short by searing agony. The cursed seal flared alive, burning into her skull. Elder Ensho lifted two fingers in a casual gesture, as though silencing a child.
"Silence," Ensho commanded. His tone was flat, merciless. "You will speak only when permitted."
Miwa gasped and crumpled to her knees, clutching her forehead as fire lanced through her veins. A strangled cry escaped her throat.
The Elders watched without pity.
"She does not yet comprehend the weight of her failure," Elder Hotsuma murmured with feigned sorrow. "An eye lost is not simply her shame—it is a weakness to the entire clan. The Byakugan, once stolen, is a weapon wielded freely. That is why our ancestors created the seal: to protect us."
Kaien's lips twisted into a thin smile. "The Uchiha flaunt their Sharingan, but theirs is protected by blood. Only they can truly wield it. A thief who transplants one is cursed with eyes that never close, a chakra drain without end. Their bodies wither, their strength collapses. Even the rare survivors never command its true power. That is why the Sharingan is so rarely stolen—not out of reverence for the Uchiha, but because it destroys those who take it."
Uneasy silence rippled through the chamber. To admit such an inherent safeguard was to acknowledge weakness in their own line. Elder Hotsuma's lips pressed thin, as though swallowing bitterness.
Kaien's smile faded into grim truth. "Meanwhile, our eyes carry no such defense. Stolen, they can be used at once. That is the difference. That is why the seal exists."
"Yes," Iroh said, gaze snapping back to Miwa. "And now, thanks to her, Kirigakure wields such a weapon."
They don't even call me by name, Miwa thought bitterly. I'm not a person to them. Just a mistake.
The pain faded as Ensho lowered his hand. Miwa sagged forward, her breath ragged. She did not lift her head.
"The path forward is clear," Hotsuma said. "The stolen eye must be retrieved. The enemy cannot be allowed to retain it."
"Hizashi," Iroh commanded. "As Branch leader, assemble your men. You will march for the Kiri border."
"Yes," Hizashi answered, his voice smooth, emptied of emotion.
"And Miwa." Kaien's pale eyes cut into her. "You will accompany them. This disgrace is yours to mend. Retrieve the Byakugan—or do not return at all."
Her breath caught. The words almost rose in protest—I can't. I'm broken. I can't face him again. But then Hizashi's hand moved slightly, a warning. She remembered the burning agony of the seal. Her lips closed.
"…Yes," she whispered.
For a heartbeat, Haishi stirred, lips parting as though to object. But Iroh's gaze sliced toward him, sharp as a blade. The clan head closed his mouth, silent once more.
I am leader in name only, Haishi thought bitterly. They make the commands. I simply carry them. I cannot protect my brother. I cannot protect my niece (cousin's daughter). What kind of leader am I?
The meeting shifted.
"The political implications must not be ignored," Hotsuma continued. "Kiri grows bold, stealing secrets, trespassing our borders. This cannot be tolerated."
Haishi lowered his gaze, hiding the tension in his clenched fists. Beside him, Hizashi stood perfectly still, the picture of obedience—but inside, anger burned.
The elders call it "tradition" and "discipline," but it's nothing more than cruelty. My brother wears the title of clan head, yet he's their puppet. I carry their curse on my forehead, and now they'll break Mei the same way. That is what it means to be Hyūga: to bow until there's nothing left of us.
The clap of Iroh's hands ended the council. "Prepare the Branch family. Weakness will not define us."
Hizashi's POV
The corridors of the compound stretched long and silent as Hizashi walked. Miwa trailed behind him, her steps unsteady, as though the weight of her seal dragged her down.
The air outside was fresher, but the cursed brand on his forehead still throbbed, a constant reminder. You belong to them. You are a tool. Nothing more.
He glanced at Miwa. She seemed smaller than ever, her spirit fractured. He recognized that look. He had seen it in his own reflection.
"You shouldn't let their words cut so deep," Hizashi said at last. His tone was flat, but beneath it lingered a softer thread. "Elders thrive on blame. It makes them feel strong."
Miwa blinked at him, startled. "But… they're right. I lost everything. I gave them an eye. I—"
He stopped and turned to face her. His pale eyes softened. "Listen carefully, Miwa. You lost a battle. Not yourself. Don't let them take that too."
Her lips trembled. She raised a hand to the bandaged seal, eyes brimming with tears. "You don't know what this feels like. To be branded. To lose everything—"
"I do," Hizashi interrupted quietly. He tilted his head, letting the lamplight fall on the cursed mark etched into his own flesh. "Long before you. And I learned something: if you cling to what they tell you, you will drown. Don't drown, Miwa. Never."
Her breath hitched. For the first time, she truly looked at him—not as Branch leader, not as branded servant, but as someone who understood.
Still, when she spoke, her voice was small. "I… I'll try."
Hizashi gave a single nod. Then he turned, his steps steady, his back straight. He had long ago accepted his chains. But if she could still fight hers—then perhaps, somewhere, there was still hope.