Chapter Ten: Soraikure (Part II)
Hizashi Hyuga POV:
It felt surreal, like a scene from a nightmare. The stranger lifted a hand, and my kunais froze mid-air, suspended in an impossible stasis. Through the mask, those piercing eyes met mine, sending an involuntary shiver through my body. Another Hyuga? But why? Why would a Hyuga harm Masaki?
No, this wasn't the time for such thoughts. I quickly deployed a smoke bomb, engulfing the area in a shroud of confusion. Focus, Hizashi. You're a shinobi. The world around me became a blur as I fled, my feet barely skimming the ground. My mind was a tumultuous storm of confusion and fear, but one thought was crystal clear: I had to survive, to unravel this mystery. The alleyways around me twisted and turned, a maze set ablaze.
My heart raced, not just from the run, but from the fear of what I had seen. A Hyuga attacking another Hyuga—it went against everything I knew, everything I had been taught. We were a family, bound by blood and tradition. And yet, here I was, running from one of my own.
As I rounded a corner, I forced myself to slow down, to catch my breath. I couldn't keep running blindly. I needed a plan, needed to figure out what to do next.
Suddenly, five assailants lunged towards me, their movements swift, yet as clear to me as if they were wading through water.
I closed my eyes, remembering an old saying: "In the heart of battle, be the eye of the storm."
As their strikes neared, I embodied that storm. With a deep breath, I unleashed the Rotation—a vortex of chakra and defense, my body spinning with a ferocity that defied gravity, an impenetrable shield of energy. Their attacks were nothing against my chakra, scattered like leaves in a tempest.
But the battle was not yet won. As the dust settled, a sixth figure emerged from the shadows, his aura dense with… what? Fear? Grabbing his two kunai as if they were lifelines he came at me.
My hand, glowing with concentrated chakra, struck like a viper. I hit his chakra points with precision, disrupting his flow. He crumpled to the ground, unable to continue the fight.
I didn't wait to see if he'd recover. I turned and sprinted away, leaping over debris and ducking under falling timbers. Then I saw him. The cloaked stranger.
I wouldn't let him attack, with a swift motion, I thrust my palm forward, releasing a powerful blast of chakra that tore through the air with a resonating boom. The invisible force collided with nothing over his shoulder. He dodged.
As I prepare for another attack, aiming for his center, the figure blurred into an unsettling stillness. I expected him to dodge or counter, but instead, he simply raised his hand, his fingers curling in a strange, twisting motion.
Suddenly, an invisible force seized me. My limbs froze mid-strike, my body no longer under my command. Panic surged within me, a tempest I couldn't quell. My mind raced – what jutsu was this? It felt as if invisible strings had latched onto my very veins, puppeteering my movements against my will.
My heart raced, my breaths shallow, yet my body remained unyielding to my own commands. Each movement, a grotesque betrayal, contorted against my volition.
Captured, I was ushered forth by a pair of Shinobi, dragged to the stranger. He who had murdered Masaki Hyuga inspected me with a casual, dissecting gaze – I looked at him too, but my eyes couldn't get past his mask.
His eyes, piercing and calculating, settled on my headband, no, his Byakugan was on – he was observing the mark in my forehead.
"A Chunin of the leaf," he noted with a curt nod. "Search him."
The words are barely out before a boot slams into my knees. I hit the ground hard, stars dancing in my vision. The pain's real enough, but it's a comfort too. It means I'm still here, still me, even if I'm dancing to someone else's tune.
One Shinobi roughly searched me, his hands invasive and impatient, tearing through my clothes as if they were rags. The other pulled out some Light Jutsu, waving it over me from head to toe.
"Nothing," the first Shinobi finally declared.
"Same here, sir," echoed the second. His voice was eager, almost hopeful. "Terminate him?"
There was a pause, a moment of chilling silence, before the reply came. "No. Get him up."
As they hoisted me back to my feet, I caught a glimpse of their faces – mere boys, no older than seventeen. Kids playing at war.
"Something to say?", the stranger asked me.
But I kept silent. Every word is a weapon in the wrong hands, and I wasn't about to arm my enemy.
"Masaki", he started, I could almost hear the smirk in his face, "You admired him, didn't you? His deeds, his strength. Makes a man think he can rise above his.. station, doesn't it? Be like him."
The words struck like a hammer to the chest. Masaki Hyuga, a legend in our second branch, a beacon of hope for the likes of me. To hear this murderer speak his name… it was a desecration. But I swallowed the rage, smothered the fire of my emotions. Showing weakness now would be fatal.
"Do you want to be like him? Die alone, burned to a crisp in the middle of…", he looked around, "fucking nowhere?"
His words were a cruel blade, twisting with each syllable. Yet, I remained as stone, an unyielding statue. To speak was to lose, to give in to the pain and anger boiling within. I would not give him that victory.
We of the second branch knew the weight of silence, the strength it took to keep secrets buried deep.
The stranger stepped back, observing me with a detached curiosity. "Nothing to say, huh?"
Suddenly, his fist connected with my chest, a blow so sudden, so savage, it sent stars exploding across my vision.
"That was your solar plexus. Right now your diaphragm is partially paralyzed. Witch is why you're are…" he mimicked me, almost conversationally, as I gasped for air, held upright only by the iron grip of the two shinobi.
"Here's the clever bit," he continued, as if lecturing a particularly slow student. "You were put in stasis earlier, tricking your body into keeping that chakra pumping, that Byakugan of yours running at all cylinders. Not only that, you were stupid enough to be caught mid strike; All that energy coiled up inside you, a spring wound tight, nowhere to go. Ever wonder where all that will rush to when your body thinks it's dying?"
I gasped, each breath a battle, a searing pain. It was as though my heart was trying to tear itself free, a caged beast clawing at its prison.
"That's it, feel it. The pressure turning inwards. Now your body is realizing what's doing; it will try to disperse everything, but it can't. You're Byakugan still active. Feel it as the chakra tentacles through your body. Your brain short circuits. Your body shuts off. Making you feel what? Terror?"
The pain, a living thing, spread like wildfire through my body, each nerve ending screaming in protest. It felt like my insides were being twisted, pulled apart by invisible forces. My Byakugan, usually a source of strength, now felt like a curse, amplifying every sensation to an unbearable intensity.
Fear gripped me, cold and unyielding. It wasn't just the pain or the threat of death – it was the realization of how utterly powerless I was in this moment.
The stranger yanked me away from the shinobi, hoisting me up by the collar like a ragdoll. The world swayed, my vision blurred, but his white mask stayed focused.
Then came another punch, a cruel blow to the gut that folded me like a cheap suit. Air whooshed out of my lungs, and I gasped, trying to draw breath that wouldn't come. The world spun even more, a dizzying, nauseating carousel of light and shadow.
He picked me up again.
"I want you to listen to me carefully, because this is what you're going to do: you're going to a hole, you're gonna think. You're gonna think really careful. Because when we talk again, you're better have the answer to all of my questions."
Then his fist connected with my face, a final, devastating blow. It was like being hit by a sledgehammer, a crushing force that sent me spiraling into darkness. The last thing I remember was the sound of my own body hitting the ground, a distant thud, and then… nothing.
I was just gone.