Hyuuga clan

Meanwhile in Konoha.

The main room of the Hyuuga clan was made of dark wood and austere tatami mats, with tall windows that let in the soft afternoon light. The silence was absolute, interrupted only by the soft sound of the wind crossing the rock garden outside.

In the center of the room sat Hiashi and Hizashi, twin sons of the clan, surrounded by older members of both branches, main and secondary.

Hiashi stood up straight, his hands firmly on his knees, his expression calm but full of cold pride. Hizashi, in front of him, had a serious face, his pearly eyes fixed on his brother with an intensity that mixed respect and revolt.

"From the beginning, the seal was created to protect the clan, to protect the secret of the Byakugan," Hiashi said, his voice firm. "The enemies covet our eyes. We need to preserve what is ours."

"Preserve at the cost of freedom?" Hizashi retorted.

— How many generations have lived without even knowing if they could choose their own paths? We were raised to die for you. How can that be called protection?

The elders of the branch house murmured low words of support, while those of the main branch maintained the rigid neutrality of those accustomed to command; the air was thick, tense like a string stretched too far, about to snap.

— It's not just about protecting secrets. Hizashi continued. — It's about power, the seal is a chain, it marks the faces of our children, marks their destiny. When a Hyuuga of the branch is born, he is already born condemned, is that fair?

Hiashi looked away for a moment, but soon returned to the rigidity that was natural to him.

— Talking about justice in times of war is dangerous, Hizashi. This clan survives because it is disciplined, because it respects traditions, what you propose is to break with centuries of order, could that ruin us?

Hizashi clenched his fists on his knees, the seal on his forehead more visible in the light streaming through the room.

"Order built on fear is nothing more than domination, and even the most rigid tree, if it does not learn to bend to the wind, will one day break. Look at the Uchiha, they are as jealous of their power as we are, but they do not mark their brothers with curses. Why do we need that?"

One of the elders cleared his throat, as if to intervene, but he stepped back at Hiashi's gaze, which now seemed hesitant.

"I am not blind to the weight of these marks," the leader said, in a softer tone.

"And I do not wish for my brother or his son to live as tools, but I also cannot ignore the world around us. And the Byakugan in the wrong hands..."

Hizashi took a deep breath, his face hardened by the responsibilities of the clan seemed for an instant to reveal the pain contained over the years.

— So choose what should be preserved, the eyes, or the men who carry them? The clan's secret, or the dignity of its children? We are on the same side, but we will only see each other as equals when this seal is broken.

Hiashi looked at his brother for a long time, as if he were seeing him again for the first time.

Silence once again dominated the hall.

— When this war is over, we must rethink what we are trying to save. And for whom. He replied.

The two brothers held each other's gaze for a long moment. There was no complete reconciliation, but there was a seed planted.

The seed of a possible change, which perhaps would not germinate in that generation, but which had been buried there, in the heart of a leader's doubt and in the courage of a wounded brother.

The room for the elders of the main branch was isolated, protected by sensory barriers and walls reinforced with seals of silence. Only the oldest Hyuuga were allowed to enter. The windows, covered by thick bamboo blinds, blocked the entrance of outside light, making the room cold and austere. In the center, a low table surrounded by cushions. Five figures were gathered, all men with gray hair, impeccable ceremonial robes and eyes trained by war and politics.

One of the elders, Elder Naoji, raised his voice with measured calm but charged with firmness.

"Hizashi is going too far. What are words today, tomorrow may become actions. And within the clan, this is silent betrayal."

"He is planting doubts," said another, Kyōji. "In the young, in the members of the secondary branch. And now, even in Hiashi himself. I have never seen the leader hesitate so much before a decision. I have never seen his eyes waver... until now.

"He is our blood," Shimon, the most moderate among them, mused. "To eliminate a legitimate son simply for questioning tradition could divide us more than your words ever could." Naoji narrowed his eyes. "Words are seeds, Shimon. And Hizashi's seeds blossom into rebellion. He makes his brother soft. If Hiashi falters, the clan loses authority, and then we will be seen as weak in the eyes of the other clans of Konoha. Today he compares the Uchiha to us, tomorrow he will demand that we tear down the cursed seal. This cannot continue." Kyōji leaned forward. The shadow of his profile covered part of the mat. "The seal exists for a reason. It maintains the structure. It prevents our doujutsu from falling into the wrong hands. But more than that, it imposes hierarchy. Hizashi is a crack in that structure. And the more we talk about "change," the more we weaken the weight of the Hyuuga name.

"What if Hiashi doesn't act?" Shimon asked gravely. "What if our own leader is won over by his brother's words?"

Naoji glared at the others with icy eyes.

"Then we can't wait for him to act. The war isn't over yet. Missions arise every day. Some… dangerous. We can ensure that Hizashi represents the clan with honor. In the field."

Everyone's eyes turned to him. None of those present said what was implied, but the silence was more eloquent than words.

"There are ways to resolve this without dishonoring the Hyuuga name," Kyōji said. "If he dies defending the clan, he will be remembered as a hero. And we will be remembered as responsible leaders."

"Better than burying him as a traitor," Naoji added.

Tension hung in the air like thick smoke. No smile, no sign of joy. Only the cruel seriousness of men who had decided, more than once, the fate of their own brothers.

Shimon lowered his gaze. The lantern flame in front of him flickered. Part of him wanted to protest, but a larger part knew that the clan survived because men like Naoji did what needed to be done. Even if it left scars that would never fade.

"I will contact the officers of the Leaf," one of the elders murmured. "Hizashi will be called to the front lines on the next reconnaissance mission. The border with Kumo remains unstable. It is… appropriate."

"May he die with honor," Kyōji said.

"And may silence return to our home," Naoji added.

The meeting ended without another word. Everyone rose and left the room in silence, like shadows slipping through ancient veils. Outside, the clan garden remained peaceful. But inside the Hyuuga house, a sentence had been sealed.