Same kind?
The words hit Sasuke sideways—and something ineffable and bitter surfaced from deep in his memory.
It was the feeling of standing alone against the whole world. That formless void pressing in from every side, soundless and without heat. A poison that left no marks, that could reduce a person's heart to dust from the inside.
That poison had a name: loneliness.
And the two people beside him now—were they also living inside that same poison? Were they... the same kind as him?
"Don't make this sentimental. This isn't a misery contest. Shared background means nothing—anyone who can't keep pace with me will fall behind, no matter how much we have in common."
Hinata blew on her fingernails and shook her head. "But there is one thing I'm glad about right now. Know what it is?"
The white-eyed girl raised her gaze—and in the shadow of the moonlight, something cold and clear ignited in it.
"I don't need to come up with any excuses. You—you are the best explanation this village could hope for."
The grin on Mizuki's face congealed. His eyes went wide with the instinctive disbelief of someone watching a creature shed its skin.
Night wind slipped through the treetops and took a few leaves with it. The forest settled back into silence—except for a smell in the air, not particularly pleasant.
Mizuki's body had gone completely limp. Both arms hung slack at his sides. His face—held aloft in one black-gloved hand, gripped by the cheek—hung there like a dead fish. His features had been scorched past recognition, and he'd soiled himself. Whatever had happened was thorough enough to beat the consciousness—and the bodily control—clean out of him.
"....."
Hinata stood there holding Mizuki up by the face, her pale eyes unreadable, as though searching for something on the wreckage of his body.
Iruka had gone completely still. He'd watched Mizuki transform into that half-charred wreck in under thirty seconds. The instrument of that transformation was the girl who had, supposedly, always been the quiet one.
"Hmph."
A click of the tongue from Sasuke beside her. He was visibly disgruntled at having his punching bag taken.
Naruto hesitated a moment, then moved to Iruka's side and carefully offered his shoulder. His voice came out sounding hurt. "I'm sorry, Iruka-sensei. Let me take you to Konoha Hospital."
That voice pulled Hinata back. She tossed the unconscious Mizuki aside like a bag of rubbish—no ceremony—and turned away. The cold in her face was still there, but even that deliberately maintained frost was itself a sign that something inside had been touched.
Because something had. She'd gotten genuinely angry just now. She knew perfectly well that Mizuki's taunts had targeted the original Hinata, not her—but the moment those words landed, the inherited memories surfaced whether she'd asked them to or not. The fury had been real. And unreasonable.
Being forced to relive someone else's lousy memories was, to put it mildly, infuriating.
She gave her head a small shake and spoke in a clear, even voice.
"Alright. Iruka-sensei—the real traitor's been found. We're done here. Naruto, get Iruka-sensei to the hospital. Sasuke and I will head home separately. If anyone needs to reach us, come to our homes."
Those words made Iruka look at them with something like heartache. "Don't worry, Hinata, Sasuke, Naruto. You're all children of this village. The blame tonight doesn't belong to any of you. You'll be fine."
Even knowing these children were more than capable of looking after themselves, Iruka still reached toward them as a teacher. That was why.
That was why, across the whole history of the Hidden Leaf, he would become the Academy instructor who turned out more exceptional shinobi than any other.
With Iruka's reassurance, some of the tension left Naruto's and Sasuke's faces. Even Hinata felt a small, grudging comfort. She gave a quiet nod and stepped out of the forest first.
She'd come away with the biggest haul of anyone tonight.
A restless night passed. For most of Konoha's residents, whatever had gone on in the dark was none of their business—so the village greeted a new day in its usual peaceful, prosperous fashion.
"The medical report on Mizuki has come in. Severe burn scarring to the face, with damage to the left eye. Multiple fractured ribs. Spinal injury. Projected prognosis: a wheelchair for the rest of his life."
Hiruzen set the report from Konoha Hospital down, expression grave. "It's difficult to believe. Mizuki ranked among the top chūnin—and yet he was outclassed this badly by those children."
The war council that had assembled in the Hokage's office was a different kind of peaceful—Konoha's finest, including Kakashi and several other jōnin.
"To be precise: it was not 'those children.' Only Hyuga Hinata acted. In other words, Mizuki's critical injuries were inflicted by a single person—Hyuga Hinata."
The correction came from the head of Konoha's ANBU Torture and Interrogation Force: Ibiki Morino. Even standing in full daylight, he radiated a low, sinister gravity that compressed the air around him. A row of vicious knife scars crossed his face; his eyes were cold enough to evoke the image of an emotionless machine.
"How interesting. Defeating a chūnin-level opponent before even graduating—that's a gifted child. Burns, though? Fire Release? Explosive tags?"
A female jōnin standing near Kurenai spoke up with distinct curiosity. She wore her hair in a casual pineapple bun; her features were sharp and pretty, but her eyes carried a faint edge of something unruly. A trench coat worn over fishnet—and the whole picture added up to a kind of danger that stood in perfect contrast to Kurenai's composed elegance. She was Konoha's most dangerous female jōnin: Anko Mitarashi.
"No. Taijutsu. And nothing like ordinary taijutsu."
Ibiki's answer was as mechanical as ever, and it made several shinobi in the room quietly straighten. Anko's eyebrow arched—then she said it aloud: "Taijutsu?? Oh—of course. She is from the Hyuga Clan. But what kind of taijutsu causes severe burns?"
The question landed like a pointed finger, and every eye in the room turned as one toward the figure it was aimed at.
Unlike the assembled shinobi, this person was dressed in a simple, unremarkable kimono, long hair falling unbound—and a pair of pale, unmistakable eyes that announced his identity. The current head of the Hyuga Clan. Father to Hyuga Hinata and Hyuga Hanabi. Hiashi Hyuga.
"Hiashi. No need to be tense. You know what happened last night—Mizuki was the traitor, and your daughter Hinata stopped him on her own. We simply want to understand: was the taijutsu Hinata used against Mizuki the Hyuga Clan's Gentle Fist?"
Hiruzen adjusted the brim of his Hokage hat, then gestured to an ANBU operative, who passed Hiashi a set of injury photographs from Mizuki's report. Hiashi looked briefly and shook his head. "No. Gentle Fist damage works from the inside out. These injuries were all inflicted by external force—Strong Fist strikes driving inward. The Hyuga Clan has never developed a style like this."
"Then I request authorization to interrogate Hyuga Hinata. She did stop Mizuki, yes—but this unidentified taijutsu requires investigation. A student who hasn't even graduated, capable of incapacitating a high-ranked chūnin—I don't think we can treat that as routine."
Ibiki stepped forward. The head of the Torture and Interrogation Force had never had much use for other people's feelings. To him, only Konoha's security mattered.
"I object. Leave aside the fact that she just neutralized a village traitor. She's also currently an Academy student. If we drag her in for interrogation right now, what exactly does that say about this village's justice?"
Kurenai spoke, measured and unhurried. As a woman of quiet, steel-spined conviction, she felt a natural pull toward Hinata's defense—especially when the achievement in question was a girl single-handedly defeating a traitor. That kind of kunoichi was a credit to every woman who'd ever worn the hitai-ate. She wasn't about to stand by while someone hauled her in for questioning.
"Agreed. Ibiki, I know your methods. People who walk into that room with nothing wrong come out with plenty wrong—that face of yours alone is enough to scare the innocent into a confession."
Anko, Kurenai's closest ally, took her position without hesitation. The other shinobi present wisely stayed out of it—two against one, no advantage in jumping in.
"My own view: whatever they did, they're still children first. We don't mean anything sinister by this—we simply want to ask about Hinata's technique. If it has nothing to do with the Hyuga Clan, that's the end of it."
Hiruzen cut through cleanly, and the tension in the room eased. "Here's my decision: let tonight's matter rest. Ibiki—interrogate Mizuki, find out what you can about his intentions. Everyone else—dismissed."
The assembled jōnin dispersed in ones and twos. And as Hiashi Hyuga walked home alone, the set of his face was unlike anything he'd worn in years.
Hiruzen had declared the matter closed—but Hiashi was not the kind of man to leave a question like this unanswered. Ibiki didn't lie. Which meant the eldest daughter he'd long since written off had, somehow, without anyone noticing, developed the ability to floor a top-ranked chūnin—before graduating the Academy, no less?
It seemed he would have to take another look—a real one—at this daughter he'd long since abandoned as too poorly gifted to bother with.