"Hey! Did you hear? Kakashi, the White Fang's son, got his butt kicked!"
"No way? Kakashi Hatake, the prodigy, actually lost?"
"Yeah! Tons of people saw it. Kakashi was bawling his eyes out!"
"..."
"Seriously, he was rolling around on the ground crying!"
"What? He didn't even fight back? Just begged Hyuga Seiran not to hit him anymore?"
Seiran's face drained of color as he stepped out onto the morning streets. The gossip swirling through the village had twisted into something unrecognizable.
Kakashi crying because I beat him? he thought, irritation building. I was the one crying. And begging on his knees? Pissing himself? Where does this garbage come from?
Worse still—most of the rumors were spreading through his own clan.
Walking through the Hyuga district, Seiran caught sight of clusters of clanspeople gathered in small groups, eyes gleaming with excitement as they discussed "the genius new genin," "the one who made Kakashi cry," and "even an Uchiha surrendered."
He kept his head down, hoping to slip past unnoticed.
No such luck.
"Look! It's the genius who made Kakashi cry!" someone bellowed from behind.
Dozens of eyes snapped toward him in an instant.
"I didn't! That's not true! Stop spreading lies!" Seiran's face darkened. He picked up his pace and rounded the corner, leaving the confused crowd in his wake.
---
Inside the main house hall, silence hung heavy as a stone.
The atmosphere was suffocating. Most of the elder clan heads looked distinctly displeased.
Hyuga Mizuki, the Elder Clan Head, rubbed his temples as he scanned the faces surrounding him. The Hyuga had endured over a thousand years in the shinobi world, surviving through rigid discipline and unwavering systems. But now one clan member was systematically dismantling those rules.
Seiran—the first dual-Kekkei Genkai successor in Hyuga history—had been trouble since the moment he'd appeared.
"Have the branch families forgotten the rules entirely?" one of the main family patriarchs slammed his fist against the table, his face flushed with anger. "Since yesterday, they've been gathering without restraint, ignoring etiquette, shouting in the streets. It's a disgrace!"
"The main family's reputation is being tarnished by branch family rabble," another patriarch added, shaking his head in disgust.
Hiashi Hyuga sat beside Mizuki, his expression troubled. He understood the branch family's position—they'd been suppressed for generations. Seiran's victory over Kakashi had cracked the pressure valve, and their excitement was pouring out like steam. But the Hyuga weren't like the Uchiha. Here, order was law.
"Enough," Mizuki sighed, rubbing his temples harder. His headache was getting worse.
Punishing Seiran felt wrong—he'd defeated Kakashi, bringing honor to the clan. Yet doing nothing would let the branch families spiral out of control. And there was another complication: the Third Hokage's sudden interest in the boy. That political layer required careful consideration.
The weight of these conflicting pressures left Mizuki paralyzed.
Then Hiashi spoke. "Patriarch, let me handle this."
Mizuki's eyes shifted toward him. "You have a solution?"
"Perhaps." Hiashi smiled thinly. "The complexity stems from Seiran's unusual position. He's not an ordinary branch member—we can't reward him openly, but we also can't punish him. So instead, why don't we give him another layer of identity?"
He outlined his plan in quiet detail.
Mizuki's eyes lit up. "Good. I'll leave it to you."
---
Seiran's heart was still hammering as he walked home. Whispered conversations about him followed him down every street, and none of them were accurate.
He'd narrowly escaped an encounter with several clan aunts who'd spotted him with unmistakable intent—something about introducing their granddaughters. He was still sweating from that close call.
"This is terrifying," he muttered, pressing a hand to his chest. "I'm staying inside for a while."
He'd barely made it through the door when a knock sounded.
Seiran tensed immediately. He crept to the door and peered through the gap. "Code?"
A code? The man outside froze, clearly confused. What code was this about?
The door swung open before he could process the question.
Seiran recognized his visitor instantly—the two most famous brothers in the clan were nearly identical, distinguished primarily by one's constant forehead protector.
"Hiashi Hyuga. What brings you here?" Seiran glanced past him, ensuring no other clanspeople were following.
"Can I come in?"
---
They sat across from each other at a simple wooden table, two cups of tea steaming gently between them. The leaves weren't premium quality—more of an everyday blend.
"I don't usually drink tea, so this is all I have," Seiran said.
"It's fine." Hiashi took a sip without hesitation. Among the Hyuga, accepting tea when offered was basic courtesy.
After the polite gesture, Hiashi studied Seiran's still-boyish features, and his expression grew complicated.
"I suspected you'd become a variable in this clan's future," he said quietly. "But I didn't expect that variable to grow up so quickly."
A genius who'd surpassed Kakashi. The top new genin. Just thinking those titles made Hiashi's blood burn with possibility. There was no doubt—Seiran was the greatest genius the Hyuga had produced since the village's founding.
"A genius like you would never willingly accept chains," Hiashi said, his eyes meaningfully locked on Seiran's.
Seiran remained silent. The implication was too direct. If the main family heard this kind of talk, it would spell trouble.
Noticing his hesitation, Hiashi sighed and withdrew a scroll from his sleeve, placing it on the table between them.
"What is this?" Seiran asked.
"Open it."
Seiran unrolled the scroll and channeled a trace of chakra into it. His eyes widened immediately.
The scroll wasn't voluminous, but its contents were invaluable. In one corner lay a substantial sum of cash—Seiran estimated at least five million ryo. On the other side were numerous secret cultivation techniques, several of which weren't even passed down within the clan's ranks.
The money was significant, but the family secrets? If the main family discovered Hiashi had given these to a branch member, he'd face severe punishment.
"Why?" Seiran's voice was barely above a whisper.
"Consider it an investment," Hiashi replied. He stood and moved toward the door. "I truly hope your existence as a variable can stir enough wind to breathe life back into this clan's ancient, decaying tree."
Seiran watched him leave in silence. This wasn't merely an investment—it was a declaration. Hiashi had recognized that Seiran would never accept the Caged Bird Curse Mark and was planning to resist the main family using his own strength.
In another lifetime, Hiashi had eventually accepted his fate and taken his own life. But under Seiran's influence... was that path changing?
Seiran carefully rolled the scroll back up. Hiashi's support would be invaluable to his cultivation.
Thirty minutes later, another knock sounded at the door.
Seiran opened it and nearly said, "Master Hiashi again?"—but the words caught in his throat.
The forehead before him was perfectly smooth. No protector.
"Hyuga Hiashi. What is it this time?" Seiran said calmly.
It was the same wooden table, the same two cups of tea. This time, Seiran didn't reach for his cup, cutting straight to business.
"I came to take on an apprentice," Hiashi said, his smile composed and certain. "Seiran—become my disciple."
This Hyuga Hiashi was the future patriarch, everyone knew that. At just over twenty, he was already a jonin. Teaching a genin-ranked Seiran would be more than sufficient. But more importantly, once Seiran became the next patriarch's disciple, all complications would dissolve. The branch family would obey more readily, knowing Seiran held such status. And concerning the Third Hokage—if Hiashi had already taken an apprentice, further interference wouldn't be appropriate.
"I refuse," Seiran said flatly.
Hiashi's smile froze, as though he'd misheard.
"Are you concerned about Shibi Aburame? Rest assured, he's merely your instructor. There's no conflict with being my disciple as well. Once you accept, the clan will provide a monthly stipend of 100,000 ryo. Additionally, several of the main family's secret techniques will become available to you."
Seiran met his gaze steadily. "I think you've misunderstood, Hiashi. I don't want to be your disciple. It has nothing to do with Shibi or anyone else."
"If I become your disciple, I won't be able to do many things independently. I don't want that many constraints."
The answer left Hyuga Hiashi stunned. All his prepared words had nowhere to land.
Unbelievable.
How many people dreamed of becoming his disciple?
Anger flickered through Hiashi like a spark. Years of family training forced him to suppress it, to maintain composure. He breathed deeply, tempering his heart.
"Fine," he said at last, his voice carefully neutral. "If that's your decision, I won't press further. Although you won't be my disciple, the monthly stipend of 100,000 ryo will still be provided. Consider it the clan's reward for your achievements."
He stood and left without another word.
Seiran watched him depart, eyes distant and thoughtful.
Both Hiashi brothers had visited him today, each with completely different purposes.
By rejecting Hiashi's offer to become his disciple, Seiran had made a statement—a declaration of independence.
The future, he suspected, would not be peaceful.
-----
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