Konoha Year 44. Deep winter.
Snow drifted silently through the still forest.
Beneath an overcast sky, a ninja was fleeing.
No matter how vile the weather, it could never halt the continuation of slaughter. After all, ninja themselves were the most efficient reapers of death—harvesting lives was almost instinctual to them.
Systems gave birth to war. Ninja marched to the battlefield. Battle brought death. The hand that rang the funeral bell was never the sa—only the rope passed from one person to another.
Death was absolute, the only true form of fairness.
As dusk approached, the blizzard and encroaching darkness severely impaired ordinary vision, concealing countless dangers within the shadows. And yet, a single ninja was sprinting madly through it all.
His breathing was ragged. His steps unsteady. His face deathly pale. He ran without direction or composure.
He made no attempt to hide his trail.
Those eyes—eyes capable of ignoring distance and space—now seed to peer beyond ti itself, glimpsing a future that held nothing but death.
And yet, he struggled on. Of course he would struggle.
Through the shifting silhouettes of the forest, pushing past the veil of wind and snow, one could faintly make out the tal plate on his forehead protector.
The symbol of Konohagakure.
He was a ninja of the Hidden Leaf.
He knew the enemy behind him clung like a curse embedded in bone. There was no retreat left.
In truth, given his current condition, even possessing eyes that could detect an enemy first was aningless. There was no way to conceal himself—his right arm had been severed cleanly at the shoulder, blood pouring endlessly from the wound.
He couldn't tend to it.
Dripping blood. Loss of body heat. Freezing. Red lting into white snow…
Even if he found the perfect hiding place, the enemy could simply follow the trail of blood straight to him.
And besides—
They had sensory ninja.
Severe blood loss. Chakra nearly depleted. His thoughts blurred. Nurous enemies pursued him—how many, he no longer had the clarity to judge, but certainly more than a single squad.
Was there no escape?
Weakness washed over him. Along with despair.
The young ninja did not want to die, but he knew now that death was unavoidable.
The clan mbers who had covered his retreat had surely fallen already.
Now, it was his turn.
He feared death. He faced death. And at this mont, he found himself able to accept it calmly.
But before dying, there was one thing—one absolutely critical thing—that could not be left to the enemy.
With that thought, he stopped running.
Further escape was aningless.
With his remaining left hand, he ford a "V" shape with his fingers.
Mocking the enemy's victory?
No. He had no such intention.
He still had one final mission.
At the very end, he had to destroy his own eyes.
This was the final and most important duty of a Konoha ninja—
of a mber of the strongest dojutsu clan.
The angle between his two fingers required no adjustnt. He knew this would be enough to crush those fragile organs.
But at that very instant—
The shriek of air being torn apart rang out.
A massive shuriken, razor-sharp and weighted by its own imnse mass, hurtled along a preordained trajectory. Driven by terrifying montum, it severed his head in a single instant.
The violent impact caused his hand to jerk—his index finger pierced only his left eye, while his middle finger struck the forehead protector instead.
His right eye remained intact.
But by then, it no longer mattered.
His consciousness likely froze at the mont he died—
a scion of a prestigious clan, eting death with dignity.
The enemy approached.
They stepped over his body, picked up his severed head, tore away the forehead protector—and upon seeing his bare forehead, finally let out a long breath of relief.
"Mission complete."
The enemy called out in a stern voice tinged with unmistakable satisfaction to their comrades hidden in the darkness.
Ordinarily, when a border ninja was declared missing, it was tantamount to a death sentence. Such deaths were often difficult to confirm—after all, one could not always recover a comrade's body.
But this ti was different.
Almost at the very mont that ninja fell on the distant frontier, Konohagakure learned of his death through other ans.
And the Hyūga Clan was thrown into complete chaos.
The report was imdiately delivered to the Hokage.
This single piece of intelligence forced Konoha into motion with maximum efficiency.
All ninja not currently on missions received a summons nearly simultaneously.
Land of Fire. Konohagakure. Hokage Tower.
The Third Hokage gazed at the assembled ninja before him, his expression dark.
Under almost any circumstances, the Third Hokage rarely displayed such a look. Many present had no idea what had happened.
Once everyone had arrived, the Hokage finally spoke.
"For reasons that are, at present, still unknown, our frontline mission intelligence was leaked approximately one day ago."
"After obtaining this information, Kirigakure carried out a highly precise ambush on one of our four-man elite squads."
"The battle concluded not long ago. According to the latest reports, all four Leaf ninja were killed in action."
He paused.
"But that is not the point."
A Hokage saying that the deaths of his own ninja were "not the point" was shocking—especially coming from the benevolent Third Hokage.
Yet, he was right.
"Among the four were two mbers of the Hyūga Clan."
"One from the Branch Family."
"And one… from the Main Family."
The room stirred instantly.
Under the Hyūga Clan's brutal Main–Branch system, ever since Konoha's founding, the number of Main Family ninja had never exceeded ten—five was already considered many. The death of even one Main Family mber was catastrophic.
And worse was yet to co.
The death of a Main Family ninja likely ant—
The loss of the Byakugan.
"As confird through the Hyūga Clan's unique monitoring thods," the Hokage continued gravely,
"one Byakugan has now fallen into the hands of Kirigakure."
The Branch Family was excluded from concern—due to the Caged Bird Seal, death automatically destroyed their Byakugan.
But a Main Family ninja dying without destroying his eyes, allowing the Byakugan to be taken by the enemy—
Such an incident had likely never occurred before.
Anyone familiar with the Hyūga Clan's treatnt of their own people understood just how fiercely, obsessively—even cruelly—they guarded the Byakugan.
For it to fall into enemy hands ant that Kirigakure might learn how to use it, decipher the secrets of the Hyūga bloodline and its kekkei genkai.
To the proud Hyūga Clan, this was not rely disgrace—
It was a blade pressed directly against the throat of the entire clan.
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