Chapter 20: The Weight of a Name
What is this? A full clan assembly? For this? The scale of the gathering felt absurd, disproportionate to a single altercation between children. But as the hall filled with the solemn faces of adult Hyūga—elders with weathered skin and assessing eyes, main family members with their polished composure, and branch family representatives standing with a careful, guarded neutrality—Reitō understood. This was not about him. It was about the crack his actions had revealed in the clan's foundation.
Finally, the clan patriarch, Hyūga Hiashi and Hizashi's father, entered. His presence commanded an immediate, deep silence. His gaze swept the room before settling on Reitō, a long, unreadable look. Then he addressed the assembly, his voice carrying easily in the hushed hall.
"In recent days," the patriarch began, "a development has arisen within our Branch Family. Hyūga Reitō, standing here, has displayed… unexpected aptitude. He has gained entry into the Ninja Academy's Class A, a feat that reflects well upon the potential of our Hyūga bloodline and serves as a point of distinction against our… friendly rivals, the Uchiha."
A murmur of pride ran through some of the branch family members. But Reitō felt no warmth. The patriarch's tone was clinical, detached, like a curator describing an interesting but volatile artifact.
The patriarch's voice hardened, the temperature in the room seeming to drop. "However, this development has been marred by a severe transgression. Blinded by his sudden success, Hyūga Reitō forgot his place. He violated our clan's most sacred principles of hierarchy and respect. Following his assessment, he deliberately attacked a child of the Main Family, exacerbating tensions that require careful management. Therefore, before this assembly, Hyūga Reitō will acknowledge his error and apologize for his conduct."
The patriarch's pronouncement was not a request for an account; it was a verdict delivered before the trial had even begun. The demand for a public confession, particularly before the very branch family he was accused of inciting, was a masterstroke of political theater. It was designed not to adjudicate justice, but to reassert dominance, to grind the rebellious spark back into obedient dust.
Reitō's fists clenched at his sides, nails biting into his palms. Add insult to injury, then demand gratitude. It was Hyūga Mōri who had laid hands first, who had issued threats. Truth held no currency here; only power did. They wanted him to kneel and validate their version of reality.
As the patriarch's expectant gaze settled upon him, a heavy silence fell. All eyes were on the small, pale boy in the center of the grand hall.
Reitō did not bow his head. He lifted his chin, meeting the patriarch's gaze directly with his flawed white eyes.
"Respected Patriarch," he said, his voice clear and steady, cutting through the silence like a knife. "Hyūga Mōri initiated the confrontation. He threatened me, he struck first. My response was self-defense. If he could not withstand a single move from someone like me…" He paused, letting the implication hang, devastating in its simplicity. "...the fault lies not in my resistance, but in his weakness."
A collective, sharp gasp filled the hall. The Main Family members looked as if they'd been physically struck, their faces a mixture of outrage and disbelief. The Branch Family members, however, jolted as if electrified. Shock melted into something hotter, brighter—a fierce, surging pride they dared not voice but which shone in their eyes.
The patriarch's face darkened, his composure cracking for the first time. "Hyūga Reitō! You dare repeat such insolence?!"
"I do," Reitō stated, his voice rising, no longer just speaking to the patriarch but to the entire assembled clan. "I have committed no wrong. I will not apologize for defending myself. I will not apologize for my own strength."
He stood there, a solitary figure dwarfed by the hall's grandeur, yet utterly unbent. His defiance was a physical force in the room.
Behind his father, Hizashi's face flushed with a potent mix of fear and exhilaration. He couldn't stop the whispered, fervent words. "Well said…"
The patriarch's sharp eyes scanned the room, and what he saw in the faces of the Branch Family chilled him more than Reitō's words. It wasn't just sympathy; it was identification. A dangerous hope. A belief that the unbreakable chain might have a weak link. This spark, if not extinguished immediately, could ignite a fire that would consume the clan's rigid order.
His gaze flicked subtly to the scarred elder, Hyūga Ryōtomo—Mōri's father.
Ryōtomo saw the look and a grim satisfaction settled in his heart. This was the opportunity he needed. His hostility toward Reitō ran deeper than his son's bruised pride. Reitō's father and Ryōtomo were of the same bloodline, a line where Ryōtomo had inherited the Main Family mantle. In the Hyūga's brutal calculus, if a Main Family line failed, the right of succession could pass to its closest Branch Family relatives. Reitō, by his very existence and now by his shocking display of talent, represented a latent threat—a living reminder that the divide between "tool" and "master" was, at its root, an arbitrary and reversible decree. The boy was not just defiant; he was a walking challenge to the legitimacy of Ryōtomo's own lineage.
The patriarch's signal was clear: make an example of him. And for Ryōtomo, removing this particular "weed" from the garden would serve a dual purpose: avenging his son and eliminating a potential rival in one stroke. The political had become deeply, lethally personal.