Dawn rose over the Hyūga compound, and the sky turned a pale orange. The clan's pavilions, with their curved and elegant rooftops, glowed softly under the morning light. In the main courtyard, training cries were already echoing. Children practiced, adults polished their weapons.
I had woken up early, unable to find sleep. The previous day, my body had suffered from training, but my mind was even more exhausted. I had spent hours thinking about this world. A world of wars, of rivalries, where children were sent to the battlefield. In my old life, I had complained about homework or bills. Here, the slightest weakness meant death.
I dressed quickly, tightening my white kimono. When I stepped outside, the crisp morning air bit at my skin. A group of young Hyūga was already waiting, their faces serious despite their age. Among them was the one who had offered me his hand yesterday. I didn't yet know his name, but his determined gaze stayed with me.
An adult approached—another Hyūga, his long hair tied high, his white eyes piercing. His voice, deep and implacable, resounded through the courtyard.
"Today, you leave the compound. Your first shinobi duty awaits you."
A shiver ran down my spine. First duty? But we were only children…
The man continued:
"A patrol in the southern valley. Enemy movements have been reported. You will observe, you will learn, and if necessary—you will fight."
Whispers rose among us, some excited, others nervous. I remained silent. I knew what it meant. In this world, even Hyūga children had to take up arms.
We left the compound shortly after, escorted by two jōnin of the clan. The march was silent, broken only by the rustling of grass and the distant calls of birds. The landscape was beautiful—rolling green hills, rivers glistening under the sun. But all I saw was the hidden threat behind that beauty.
The tension was already there. The jōnin remained alert, Byakugan activated, scanning the horizon. Every snapping branch made me flinch.
After several hours, we reached a narrow valley. The river wound between rocks, and the air was damper here. That was where everything changed.
"Stop," one of the jōnin ordered.
We all froze. I instinctively activated my Byakugan. And I saw them. Three silhouettes hidden behind trees, their chakra networks glowing like flames. Enemy shinobi.
My breath caught in my throat. This wasn't training. This was real.
One of the jōnin gestured for us to retreat. But it was already too late. The enemies burst from the shadows, kunai in hand.
"Hyūga!" one of them shouted. "Kill them!"
The fight erupted.
Everything turned to chaos. The clan's jōnin intercepted the first attacks, their movements precise and graceful. Their palm strikes hit directly at their opponents' chakra points, paralyzing them instantly. But the enemies were numerous, fast, determined.
We children were pushed to the back. Yet one of the enemy shinobi managed to break through the defense and charged straight at us. I felt my blood run cold.
He lunged at the boy next to me—the one who had helped me yesterday. Instinctively, I shouted and threw myself forward. I waved my hands clumsily, trying to imitate the Jūken. My palm struck his arm. A spark of chakra burst out, and the shinobi staggered back, surprised.
"Tch… little brat!"
He raised his kunai, ready to cut me down. My body refused to move. I watched the blade descend, gleaming under the sun…
Then a cry.
The boy I had saved struck the enemy in the chest with all his strength. The kunai fell to the ground. The shinobi staggered, then collapsed.
I stood frozen, breathless. This was… real. I had nearly died.
The battle ended after a few minutes, though to me they felt like hours. The Hyūga adults had neutralized the attackers. Two were dead, the third restrained alive for interrogation.
Silence fell again over the valley. But it was not the peaceful silence of morning. It was heavy, oppressive, broken only by the sound of running water and the metallic smell of blood.
I stared at my trembling hands. It was the first time I had touched an enemy, the first time I felt chakra react that way. And it was the first time I saw a man die before my eyes.
One of the jōnin approached us.
"You acted well. You survived."
He spoke as if it were a simple lesson. But to me, it was an abyss. Surviving… so that was what it meant to live as a shinobi.
On the way back, no one spoke. The children, usually noisy, walked with their heads down. Even the boy I had helped stayed silent, his eyes fixed on the ground.
I lifted my gaze to the sky. The clouds had gathered, dark and heavy. Soon, it would rain. And I felt a chilling certainty: this was only the beginning.
For if already, at our age, we were thrown into this endless war, how many more would die before this world changed?
I clenched my fists, a fire burning in my chest.
"No. I will not let this cycle continue. If I must fight, it won't just be to survive. It will be to create a world where children no longer carry kunai."
The rain began to fall, cold, washing the blood from the ground. But it didn't erase the scene from my memory. It was carved there forever.
And so began my first step into the hell of the shinobi.