The door of the secret room creaked open, and a shaft of light pierced the cool, dim interior.
The air was thick with the scent of aged wood. What met Hyuga Shin's gaze were rows of wooden boxes, neatly lined up on the shelves. Each box was finely crafted, tied with a red string; at the end of each string hung a small tag bearing a name.
It was clear that few ever entered this place—dust lay in a fine layer upon the shelves.
These were the Byakugan—white eyes—accumulated by the Hyuga clan through generations.
Hyuga Hinata stepped forward slowly, stopping before one row of racks. He selected a box from among the many, studied the label carefully, then handed it casually to Hyuga Shin.
Shin accepted it with both hands and glanced at the tag: Hinata Shinsuke.
"Hinata Shinsuke distinguished himself in the Second Great Ninja War," Hyuga Higashizai began, his tone even but tinged with respect. "His Byakugan brought us many victories on the battlefields of the Land of Wind. But in one battle, he was struck by the puppet master of the enemy. The poison reached deep into his bones before he could be brought back to the village. Even Lady Tsunade herself was powerless to save him."
Shin opened the box. Inside was a glass container filled with clear liquid. A sealing talisman clung to its surface, and within floated a pair of pale, lifeless eyes. Their hollow stare made the skin crawl after only a moment's gaze.
Hyuga Risaku then handed him another box, and Shin returned the first to its place.
This second tag read: Hinata Hideya.
"Hinata Hideya was another of our clan's finest," Risaku continued. "He served as guard to the Third Hokage, accompanying him into many battles. The injuries he sustained left lasting harm. He passed away four years ago from illness, and Hokage-sama himself attended the funeral to pay his respects."
"These two pairs of eyes are suitable for you," Risaku said. "Once the clan and the hospital finalize their decision, you will be notified. Don't forget to pay your respects at the memorial monument."
Shin inclined his head. "I will remember."
"If the spirits of these two seniors learn of your deeds on the front lines," Risaku added, "they will be pleased to entrust their eyes to you."
"It is my honor to inherit the eyes of my predecessors," Shin replied.
That answer seemed to satisfy Risaku. "The eyes stored here all belonged to pillars of the clan and the village. Do not let their legacy be in vain."
Shin let his gaze sweep over the shadowed room. "When the time comes, will Master Risai's Byakugan also be placed here?"
Risaku paused, then said evenly, "That depends on whether I die on the battlefield or at home."
For those of the branch family, death on the battlefield meant their eyes would be destroyed by the Caged Bird Seal. Only dying at home allowed them to be preserved. Every Byakugan here had been taken by the main family before death.
Their stories might sound heroic, but to Shin they carried no glory—only sorrow.
How ironic, he thought, that those who gave so much to Konoha would have their eyes taken and locked away in boxes that might never again see the light.
At the far end of the room, beyond the shelves, stood a table. On it rested fewer than ten boxes.
"Those are the eyes of the main family," Risaku said, noticing Shin's glance.
No wonder they were set apart—like rulers among their subjects.
Shin's thoughts turned, and he asked, "Master Risaku, is there any difference between the main family's eyes and ours?"
For a moment, there was only silence. Risaku's gaze lingered on the boxes.
"Without a person to wield them, the eyes are the same," he finally said.
What set them apart was the Caged Bird Seal—the curse that limited the branch family's use of the Byakugan, a safeguard to ensure no branch member could surpass the main family.
Stepping out of the dark chamber, the sunlight outside felt almost harsh.
Shin narrowed his eyes, following Risaku. A Hyuga clansman stood waiting by the door. Spotting them, he bowed to Risaku.
"My lord."
Shin recognized him from memory—a jōnin of the clan, and apparently the caretaker of this room.
"If nothing changes, the operation will be in about a week," Risaku told Shin. "Until then, don't trouble yourself with needless thoughts."
As they walked away, Risaku added, "If your mind is constantly restless, it will weigh on those who care about you."
The remark was aimed directly at him. Shin gave a measured reply. "I understand, Master Risaku. And thank you for today."
"It's no trouble," Risaku said. "This is not a place outsiders may enter, but for our own clan members, there are fewer restrictions."
He added, "The intelligence you brought back from the front lines is of great value to the village. Hokage-sama has prepared a special reward. After the operation, Lord Hizuzu will bring you to meet him."
"That was not my doing alone."
"I know. And so does Hokage-sama. He says the fallen are heroes, but the living are even more precious. Keep that in mind."
"I will."
Those were fine words—words that might once have stirred him deeply.
The Third Great Ninja War still raged. The victory at Kannabi Bridge had crippled Iwagakure's supply lines and checked their advance into Konoha's territory, buying the village a brief respite. But it was only that—a breath between battles. Konoha's forces were stretched thin on every front, its finances propped up only by the state's last reserves.
Every victory mattered. Every defeat carried a terrible cost.
That was why Namikaze Minato's name now shone brighter than even the Sannin's. He was the hero who had saved Konoha again and again, the sunlight breaking through the clouds.
And Konoha needed that sunlight now more than ever.
When Risaku departed, Shin remained where he was, looking across the courtyard at the closed door of the secret room.
A hero like Minato could save the village—but not him.
Shin needed to find another way—an untraveled path.