Desolation of the Caged Bird

When Hyūga Junichi arrived to tell him that he'd be unable to take any missions for the foreseeable week due to clan obligations, Minato thought nothing of it. The next day, Hyūga Ishimoto arrived to make the same request. By lunch of the same day, it was Hyūga Yasuhiro, and by dinner, it was Hyūga Ikemoto. 

Then, came the third day. Six Chūnin, two Genin, and one Jōnin all arrived, bearing the surname Hyūga, and equally requested a week of leave due to clan affairs.

Most had been unwilling to part with the specific reason, whereas others, without even waiting for his lips to part open and ask, had loudly declared why they needed that specific day off in the next week.

"Neji-sama is challenging Hiashi-sama to be able to become the Clan Heir."

Hyūga Neji was not a name foreign to Minato. He had no less than two enthusiastic Chūnin Instructors who spouted endless praises of the boy's intellect and prodigious nature, and often requested the boy be allowed to graduate early. 

"We are not at war. Five years of age is the bare minimum I'll allow," he'd told them. "Not a single day younger."

Had he not instilled this law, he was certain that Hyūga Neji would become the youngest Genin in Konoha's History.

The boy's achievements were already staggering, as he possessed the record of being the youngest person to ever be accepted into the Konoha Shinobi Academy. Once he graduated at five years old, he would share the record of the youngest Academy Graduate in Konoha's history, alongside Kakashi. Minato had hoped the boy would be able to enjoy a few more years as a child at least, but, if it wasn't to be, then it wasn't to be.

"Neji-sama is of the Branch Clan, so, this opportunity is one that everyone in the Branch Clan has been waiting for, and no one wants to miss it, Hokage-sama."

The Hyūga Clan's Juinjutsu was something that always fundamentally disturbed Minato. He found the practice to be flawed and inefficient, whereas Kushina found it outright disgusting. When they'd been in the academy, she'd often butt heads with Hiashi over the matter.

Minato believed there was a workable solution. As the Hokage, however, he couldn't act unless the Clan Head or Elders approached him and made it clear they wished to change things. Attempting to intrude into intra-clan traditions and laws would immediately make him various enemies, no matter how well-intentioned his actions were.

Even if he did want to help, he was too swamped. He hadn't been able to brush up on his Fūinjutsu skill in the past three years, in between his role as the Hokage and his newfound role as a father. 

One particular night, he'd spent more time than he meant to in the office, buried under a small mountain of paperwork, only for a chill to run down his spine as a red-haired woman conjured herself behind him with burning eyes and a frying pan wielded in her right hand.

Kushina made it absolutely clear that his role as the Hokage would not come before his role as a husband and father. 

If it did, he would no longer have a role as a husband and father. 

The threat was not made in jest. His wife was more than capable of raising their son on her own and walking out of their marriage if it came down to it. Uzumaki Kushina loved him, this was true, but she would never be dependent on him. She would never let herself be the second priority of the person she loved. She would not sacrifice her happiness and the happiness of her child for the sake of the village.

She'd already sacrificed too much.

The ground rules were clear. He would be present for dinner every night. He would take time off on the weekends to spend time with his wife and son. Birthdays, anniversaries, and holidays were to be spent with family, no exceptions. If he was going to be unavailable for dinner, then he'd have to send a message via toad or arrive in person explaining so.

In order to make sure he kept to the rules, he used the Flying Thunder God Technique. In the past three years, he'd made about four dozen more of his special tri-pronged kunai and put them in key locations across the village. There were only a handful of places he could not go to and from instantaneously. 

If Minato was being honest, it wasn't easy juggling his responsibilities. Even then, he was happy Kushina put her foot down when she did. He was happy to have such a strong-willed wife. They were both orphans, so they understood deeply the importance of family. He would be filled with regret if a day ever came wherein he realized that he'd neglected and failed to appreciate the one thing he'd wished for the most as a child. 

He couldn't imagine what sort of horrible thing it was to fail at being a father.

"Minato."

Thus, when Hyūga Hizashi approached him in the dead of night, seeking to speak in private, Minato was concerned. He'd already concluded his office work for the day and was comfortably in bed with his wife before two knocks arrived on his doorstep, and a familiar dog-faced ANBU with spiky white hair told him he had an unexpected visitor.

"This is unusual, Hizashi-san."

Hyūga Hizashi looked like a deflated shell of a man. At a glance, Minato could tell the man had not slept in a while. His pale eyes seemed far-away, distant, and haunting, his cheekbones appeared gaunt, and he gave the impression of a man who was standing on the precipice.

"I'm sorry. I couldn't come to your office. What I have to say… it's not something I could let others overhear."

They stood at the entrance to his house within the Uzumaki Clan Compound, and Minato occasionally shot glimpses behind him. Kushina was always a heavy sleeper, but he didn't really want to wake her up because of a rather specific rule about not bringing 'work' home.

"My wife and son are sleeping, and I would rather not —"

"I'm going away, Minato," Hizashi said. "Far away."

The announcement gave Minato pause. 

They'd been in the academy together and they'd fought in a war together. They may not have been friends, but as shinobi belonging to the same generation, they were comrades.

"What's wrong?"

The question seemed to make Hizashi age a few solid decades.

"At the end of the week, I will either lose a son or lose a brother," Hizashi said. "In the worst case, I will lose both."

Minato did not speak.

"You must have heard by now about the event."

Minato faintly nodded. "I have."

"My father has made it clear. If my son, Neji-kun lasts fifteen minutes against my brother, then he will become the Clan Heir. I know Hiashi. I know how he thinks. If there is even a slim possibility of losing his daughter, he will not take the risk. He will not hesitate."

Hizashi laughed. The laugh was bitter. It was acrid.

"In turn, I've failed to raise my son. Neji-kun… he plans on killing my brother if he gets the chance. At first, I did not believe he'd be capable of it, but I know better now. He thinks it'll make me happy. He thinks it's what I want."

Gently, Minato probed. "Is it?"

Hizashi looked into the sky.

"...I do not know."

He looked down.

"In my heart, there is hatred for my brother. There is rage and there is bitterness. And yet…" Hizashi's lips curled. "I remember us playing in our mother's garden, using her kunai to uproot her plants and getting scolded from dusk till dawn. I remember how I would distract the guards, while he snuck into the pantry to pilfer snacks meant for the Elders during the clan's founding ceremony. I remember our graduation, our first mission, and the foes we overcame together during the Chūnin Exams."

Minato recalled those Chūnin Exams as well. He couldn't help the small chuckle that escaped his lips.

"Minato," Hizashi's voice was serious. "How is it that one can hate someone so much, and still find a way to love them?"

Minato could tell Hizashi was not seeking an answer.

"I… I cannot watch my brother kill my son, Minato. Nor can I witness my son kill my brother. I want Neji-kun to have a different fate from his father. Yet, I would rather he have the fate of a slave than no fate at all." 

Hizashi shook his head.

"Perhaps this is something I should have done long ago. Had I more courage… the moment I'd been branded, I'd have taken my fate into my own hands. Now, all I can do is make sure that my son does not suffer for my mistakes."

"Hizashi," Minato's voice was firm. "If there's something I can —"

"Intervening in a clan matter won't end well. Neither for you nor the village," Hizashi said. "I won't ask the impossible. Even if I could, this is something I have to see to the end myself."

Minato fell silent.

"Will you take care of Neji-kun for me? There is a darkness in him. He needs light, Minato. He needs light, but I cannot be the one to give it to him. I… I do not know how."

"I understand."

Hyūga Hizashi proffered a faint smile. 

"Thank you, Minato. No, thank you, Hokage-sama."

Hyūga Hizashi departed the Uzumaki Clan Compound as silently as he left. Minato stood there, gritting his teeth tightly for several minutes. A familiar dog-masked ANBU appeared beside him, silently gazing down the path Hizashi left. As they were the only two individuals present, the dog-masked ANBU spoke casually.

"Should I notify the hunter-nin, sensei?"

Minato slowly shook his head.

"Hizashi isn't leaving the village."

The dog-masked ANBU fell silent.

"He said that he's going away."

"Yes," Minato said.

The dog-masked ANBU didn't say a word further.

"Notify the Council, and contact Shikaku," Minato exhaled. "Things are going to be unpleasant in the coming days."

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

At the start of the week, he was approached by two members of the Branch Clan who wished to spar with him. He rebuffed them, to which, they took offense. A minute and a half later, when their limp hands rubbed against the ground and their knees were buried in the dirt, they understood he did not wish to be disturbed.

The following day, two members of the Main Clan approached. 

Unlike the Branch Clan, who'd come with bowed heads and wild smiles, their countenance was firm, their expressions were rigid, and the sneers they wore announced their flagrant hostility. They'd spouted off the usual nonsense, declaring that he was not worthy to fight Hiashi, claiming that a person of low birth should know his place. 

After thirty minutes of ignoring them in his meditative state, they huffed and puffed like a frustrated wolf blowing on a brick house, before departing without another word. 

Their plan, if such a blatantly obvious thing could even be called that, was to force him to initiate combat, cripple him, and thus, claim they'd acted in self-defense. Such an obvious tactic was almost outright insulting, as far as Zi Wuji was concerned. He would not demean himself by being baited by novices in the art of scheming.

On the third day, the third temptation came. 

Not grown men, but a young girl, twelve, perhaps thirteen of age. Offering a false smile and providing a handful of sweets, she offered to let him rest his weary head on her lap. She announced demurely how impressed she was by him and how much she admired him. 

Zi Wuji gave only a sparing look at the blatant honeytrap, laughed, and told the wench to go bewitch her useless father.

When he'd enjoyed beauties beyond beauties in his past life, there was no way such a girl would move him. Zi Wuji's singular focus was on his meditation. He sat atop a rock underneath a spot in the grove of the Hyūga Clan, and had not moved for three full days. He had not slept. He had not eaten. Legs crossed and eyes closed, the third day came and went.

By the fourth day, his father arrived. 

The man carefully asked why he was not preparing. He pondered and inquired if Zi Wuji intended to surrender. Zi Wuji provided the man one word answers, each shorter and briefer than the last. 

His answers came in the form of positives or negatives, and, for questions that could not be answered with an affirmation or a rebuff, silence sufficed. The man belayed his worries, which, as far as Zi Wuji was concerned, were but the troubling buzzing of mosquitoes within his ears. One or two maids were told to provide him food, which, Zi Wuji did not touch, nor did he even regard. His eyes remained closed, and his mediation continued. 

By the fifth day, there was no one in the Hyūga Clan who did not know of the fact that he'd remained on that rock for five straight days, with neither food nor water.

His grandfather was next to approach him, voicing clear discontent and confusion as to his actions. The man was old by the lifespan standards of a mortal, of a shinobi, but to Zi Wuji, he was too young. He could not see beyond his immediate years. He could not see beyond his looming death. He was crippled, in both intellect, ability, and wisdom, by the inevitable fact that he feared his demise.

Zi Wuji nearly sneered.

Mortals obsessed over immortality. They desired to leave a legacy, due to the terror which gripped their hearts once they thought of being forgotten. Such a legacy was often in the form of scions and family. 

It was pathetic.

An Immortal did not obsess over Immortality, just as a fish did not obsess over the oceans, a bird did not obsess over the sky, and a worm did not obsess over the earth. 

Yet, it was true that many Immortals left Legacies to be found, scattered throughout the Rain World, such that individuals who would be born thousands of years after their demise would rise and profit. An Immortal Legacy was something that shaped and changed the world, and it was the cumulation of their efforts, their sweat, their years of knowledge and experience, and their boundless power which forced the heavens to quake and tremble. 

Anyone could fuck. Creating a child took no effort.

To believe that the greatest legacy one could contribute to the cosmos was the fruit of one's loins was to admit that one had wasted their existence achieving nothing of note.

By the sixth day, Zi Wuji's meditation was disturbed, once more, by another woman. Of all the people he'd expected to come and disturb his meditation, the woman who arrived was not one of them.

"I've brought you some pastries, Neji-kun."

His aunt was a slender woman, of shapely, if not somewhat sickly build. She possessed dark raven hair, of a shade much darker than her daughter, and her face was distinctly heart-shaped. Her complexion was pale, and she was notably skinnier than most women of her age. 

"You're unwell."

The woman tried to smile, but it did not entirely reach her eyes.

"It's nothing to worry about."

Zi Wuji knew otherwise. A cursory glance with his eyes told him the source of her disease was in her blood. The veins were thin, the red blood cells were sickled, and their production was sparse and few. In the Rain World, such a disease could be cured by using the Hemorrhage Forcing Pill to purge the bad cells from her body and the Marrow Conflagration Pill to rebuild her bone marrow and ensure all future blood cells would be properly created.

The ingredients to refine both pills were rare, albeit, a more powerful Sect would have them in their inventory. Unfortunately, Zi Wuji had seen no evidence of Alchemists in this world, nor could he find any proof of individuals who knew how to refine medicinal pills. Without either, the woman before him was doomed to live half a regular lifespan, barring stressful incidents or occurrences.

If she were to attempt to have another child, Zi Wuji was certain she would die.

"Neji-kun, please withdraw from the fight tomorrow."

Zi Wuji did not respond.

"My husband… Hiashi… he…."

The woman's voice wavered.

"He doesn't intend to let you last the match. He's decided that this is a fight between your life and that of Hinata. If it comes down to it… he'll do anything to protect Hinata."

"You mean if it comes down to it, he will kill me."

His aunt's expression was grim.

"I see."

"Please, you don't have to —"

"I have nothing left to say to you, aunt," Zi Wuji announced. "Please leave."

The rest of the woman's words entered in one ear and went out the other. She departed, and Zi Wuji continued his meditation in peace. His body, mortal, was unlike that of a cultivator. The lack of food and water for six days had done to him as one would expect.

His lips were dry and flaking. His muscles felt weak, and his stomach, long deprived of nutrients, had its acid bubbling to a point where he would not be surprised if it began to eat him from the inside out. Even then, Zi Wuji remained on the rock, his eyes closed, his body motionless.

Then came the Seventh Day.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Fifteen minutes.

To a man drowning, fifteen minutes was torture. To a kunoichi in the hands of the enemy, fifteen minutes was hell. To a shinobi on the battlefield, fifteen minutes was the difference between life and death.

The Elders of the Hyūga Clan gathered, with mixed opinions. Many did not believe Hideyoshi's claim that his grandson would last the full fifteen minutes against his son. Some were there merely because they felt the outcome of the fight would be inevitable. 

This was the opportunity they'd been looking for to quell the resentment lingering in the Branch Clan, by making it absolute that no one could change their fate.

Others were there because they hoped the young Neji would indeed last fifteen minutes. They hated the idea of the Branch House scion becoming the Heir of the Main House, but, they were pragmatists first and foremost, and preferred to have a strong heir over a weak one.

Numerous members of the Branch House had been relieved of their duties so they'd be able to witness the glorious event. Nearly all of them had shown up, in contrast to the Main House, wherein only a scanty number of individuals appeared. In the eyes of many, there was no need to watch such a fight. No matter how talented a genius was, there were limits to their power.

The news that Hyūga Neji had not prepared at all in the past week spread, and made many believe the outcome was set in stone. 

The boy had been confirmed to have been seen, sitting on a rock, motionless, for seven straight days. No one knew why. No one could explain why. Not a single person understood what purpose such an action was meant to serve.

One rumor spread that the boy was doing so as a means of pre-emptive surrender. Another claimed he was practicing a secret technique. A third said this was his way of mentally preparing himself.

The rumors were endless. Only the arrival of Hyūga Hiashi to the field put an end to them. The leader of the Hyūga Clan stood tall and proud. His eyes were keen. His gaze was sharp. There was a different air to him than most had seen.

Hiashi bowed to the elders, greeting them in turn, and the grumblings quickly came as to the disrespectful nature of Hyūga Neji, in so much as he was the only person who'd yet to arrive.

The expected time of the spar arrived and there was still no sighting of Neji. Hyūga Hideyoshi was seen fuming, Hiashi was confused, and the elders grumbling increased tenfold.

"He's probably already fled…" someone muttered.

"Maybe he got cold feet against Hiashi-sama…?"

"Well, he is still a child after all…"

"Genius? What genius? A coward is what he is —"

As the grumblings continued and the complaints increased, a person was sent out to fetch Hyūga Neji from wherever he may be and summon him to the grounds. Refreshment was served to appease the anger and annoyance of the Clan Elders, and many wondered if Hyūga Neji had indeed fled.

Moments later, a boy arrived on the scene. 

Those people who saw him barely recognized him. Thin and waif-like, he did not at all resemble someone who was ready to fight. He appeared as though he were a person who needed urgent medical attention. Murmurs swept through the entire crowd as Hyūga Neji approached, and the murmurs continued as he bowed in front of the Elders, before turning towards Hiashi, and bowing towards him in turn.

"What is the meaning of this?" Hiashi asked. "Why have you reduced yourself to such a state?"

Despite appearing sickly and starved, Hyūga Neji did not back down. Rather, in his current state, the boy smiled with an expression that seemed out of place on a child barely five years of age.

"I know you will give me no quarter, Uncle, for I know the significance of this fight, and I know that it is unlikely that I taste victory," Neji's voice came out in a deep rasp. With everyone quietly observing, his words passed through the crowd without mistake.

 "...Uncle, I have not eaten nor slept, nor have I drank water. To exert myself for fifteen minutes in a fight — it is now a matter of life and death. To prove myself beyond worthiness, to prove beyond all doubt, that my fate is not decided by the circumstance of my birth, I have come to face you not at my strongest, but at my weakest."

Numerous outcries came out at once. "What?"

"Is the boy mad?"

"At his weakest?"

Whispers and mutters swept up the crowd. Complaints, murmurs, and questions were brought as one. Hiashi simply stared forward, unflinching, towards his nephew.

"Do you believe you can last fifteen minutes against me in such a state?"

Neji slowly moved into position. "In yielding is completion, in bent is strength." Slowly, he got into the stance of the Hyūga Clan's Gentle Fist. "In hollow is full, in exhaustion is renewal. In little is contentment and in much is confusion."

The boy's eyes became fierce.

"The Gentle Fist was never designed to require strength. Our ancestors devised it as an art for the weak to triumph against the strong. To touch lightly and move minimally — to bring victory and hope where there is only defeat and despair. I have come today, Uncle, to show the true essence of the Gentle Fist."

"As you are, there is no guarantee that you will not be grievously injured in this spar. You may be too tired, move too slow, and in turn, may suffer a fatal attack," Hiashi's voice was akin to ice. "Do you still intend to continue?"

"I do not fear death, Uncle," Neji announced. "I have come to change my fate. Is life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at the price of slavery?"

Neji shook his head.

"Today, I shall either leave this place as the Heir of the Hyūga Clan, or I shall not leave at all."

The crowd was silent. It was speechless. Many knew of Hyūga Neji only as the silent genius of the Hyūga Clan, the boy who earned the academy record for the youngest entrant. No one had actually ever spoken to him at length, so no one knew of his oratory skills. No one had ever approached him for his opinions, thoughts, and dreams, so little was none of what the fabled clan genius believed.

Now, they were getting to experience it firsthand. Hyūga Neji opposed the Hyūga Clan's systems. He opposed it strongly and was opposing it at the cost of his own life. 

The words, the speech, the actions, and indeed, the performance were flawless. There was no one who could glance at the boy and not find themselves moved, and others found themselves awed.

Many in the Branch Clan hung their heads in shame. There, before them, was a child fighting against a fate they had so easily succumbed to. How could they raise their heads again? How could they compare?

It was in human nature to root for the underdog. It was in human nature to wish to see them triumph and succeed. No one wished to have them be crushed and destroyed, and worse, no one would want them to lose after giving their hardest. 

Therein lay the madness and the beauty of Hyūga Neji's actions. Hiashi was more than aware now, that he could not kill the boy. If he dared to, he was almost guaranteed that his image would be shattered forever in the clan.

Standing weakly, with such fierce eyes and motivation, the death of Hyūga Neji in such a place would elevate him to the status of a martyr. The fallout of such an occurrence would be utterly catastrophic.

Hiashi's countenance was neutral, but he gritted his teeth within him. Already, he was having difficulties accepting that he would have to murder his own nephew to save his daughter, and he'd steeled his mind for such a thing, but now, with but a few words —

No. It was not just a few words.

The boy had planned this from the beginning. A full week ago, the plan was already in action.

His behavior today, when present before the entire clan, stood in sharp contrast to the brutal and ruthless expression he'd had a week prior, when in front of his grandfather.

…Was this his plan all along?

Changing his behavior and mannerisms to fit and gain the most out of those around him at the moment, and playing the emotions of others to his benefit — it had started once Hideyoshi believed he was ruthless, and now, was coming to culmination here, in front of the entire Clan, where he displayed a noble and valiant persona. 

Hiashi could no longer deny it.

Gazing into the lavender-white eyes before him, the truth was no longer in doubt.

Hyūga Neji was a genius.

His genius extended beyond merely his skills as a shinobi but extended towards skills as a manipulator of the human psyche. Such a trap was something one would expect of Morino Ibiki or Yamanaka Inoichi, but they'd come from the mind of a child barely five years of age.

If Hyūga Neji became the Clan Head, there was no doubt that the Hyūga Clan would soar.

Hiashi was certain, that the rest of the elders were thinking the same thing. He could see his father, out of the corner of his eyes, grinning like a maniac, having discovered the true depths of Neji's plan.

The battle was already won.

There was no action Hiashi would take that would grant him victory. 

Going all out against a boy who'd starved himself and not slept for seven days, and claiming it was his victory would make him the laughingstock of the clan. 

Not being able to finish off an opponent who was starved, sleep deprived, and several years his junior in under fifteen minutes would bring his skills into question and significantly elevate Neji's own skills in comparison. If he could indeed hold his own so long against a superior opponent while greatly handicapped, was he not a genius?

Killing the boy would make him a martyr, and would most likely spark outrage throughout the entire clan, and Hiashi would not be surprised if it turned into a full rebellion by the Branch House.

There was no outcome from this event in which Hiashi emerged victorious. 

Without landing a single strike, Hyūga Neji had won.

Already, Hiashi knew in his bones that Neji was the superior candidate to be chosen as the Hyūga Clan Heir. It was no longer a battle between choosing the fate of his daughter versus the fate of his nephew.

It was a battle between choosing the fate of his daughter against the future prosperity of his clan.

The goalposts had moved considerably. A bitter feeling emanated from the depths of Hiashi's throat which he could barely swallow. 

No matter how much he cared for his daughter, the Clan would always come first. Even if he was a father, he was not so selfish as to put the life of one individual over the benefit of hundreds.

"Now that Neji-kun has arrived, let the fight between Hiashi-sama and —"

"That will not be necessary."

Hiashi's voice emerged sharply.

Everyone turned to him, staring in confusion.

"Hiashi-sama?"

"Neji has displayed the courage and steadfastness necessary to represent the Hyūga Clan. He is worthy to be given the title of Heir of the Hyūga Clan."

The Hyūga Clan fell so silent that one could hear a pin drop.

"I withdraw from this fight."

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Hizashi could not believe his ears. 

He was certain he was not the only one. The men around him, some of his closest companions and colleagues all glanced towards the location of the fight, each of them prior armed and their entire bodies wrapped with explosive tags, ready to sacrifice their lives for the sake of others who would come after them —

Only to see Hiashi withdraw from the fight.

They'd all steeled their minds that today would be the day the Hyūga Clan ended. That it would be a bloody day in the pages of history, the Hyūga Uprising, it would be called —

Yet, with just a few words, all of that was gone.

Hiashi withdrew from the fight.

"Hizashi-sama… what… what just happened?"

Hizashi remained speechless. He'd prepared himself to die today. He'd summoned up all of the courage he had to prepare his plan. He intended to dive in the moment the battle started and give his brother a final embrace at which point they would depart from this world together. 

He did not foresee a future wherein his son would emerge victorious before the match would even commence.

The words of Hiashi echoed throughout the clan, and there was shocked silence for several long minutes, before, like a maddened frenzy, the members of the Branch Clan burst into jubilous celebration.

They swarmed around his son and elevated him into the air, raising him high and crying out his name. 

"Neji-sama is amazing!"

"Our Neji-sama is the Clan Heir!"

"You've moved our hearts, Neji-sama!"

Hizashi watched with a dream-like sensation, as many wept with joy, others shed tears as they laughed, all as his son stood at the center of their joy, their happiness.

He had proven to them all that the impossible could be done.

He had changed his fate.

The Caged Bird had been set free.

A long, hollow laugh emerged from Hizashi's throat. One so loud and bitter, that he couldn't help but feel drenched with shame.

Is this what you meant… Neji-kun, when you said I would not have to hate him much longer? 

Staring at his son's face as the boy was lifted up and up over again by the crowd of pleased and joyous branch members, Hizashi saw the exhausted, yet, surprised expression the boy held.

Had I misunderstood your intentions, all along?

"What do we do now, Hizashi-sama?"

Hizashi took in a deep breath.

"A day I believed would be one of bloodshed and sorrow has turned into one of joy and jubilation…"

He smiled dryly.

"It would be a grave sin to ruin it."

It seemed the Hyūga Clan would remain as one a bit longer.

Hizashi chuckled.

…I ought to apologize to Hokage-sama for worrying him over nothing.

XXXXX XXXXXX

How did this happen?

Zi Wuji didn't understand it.

Why did he withdraw from the fight?

He was being celebrated and lifted by the crowd, his frail, starved and malnourished body being lighter than a feather. His expression was one of genuine surprise and disbelief.

Is he a coward? I don't understand.

None of this had been in his plans. 

He'd starved himself for a full week because he believed it was the only way his uncle would stand a fighting chance against him. He'd gone out of his way to handicap himself for the benefit of his opponent simply because he wanted to take his time beating and humiliating the man.

The Gentle Fist did not allow for long drawn-out battles. As long as you were precise and you landed your hits, the fight would end almost as soon as it began. Zi Wuji wanted to kill his uncle to send a clear message to the rest of the Hyūga Clan about his strength, and end the stupid feud between the man and his father —

But somehow, the man had withdrawn?

Did he sense his death? No, or is it that he believed I wouldn't be able to fight in this state?

Zi Wuji could only bite the inside of his cheeks in frustration. 

Was my act too convincing? 

He'd only said the words he said and uttered the phrases he uttered to give a convincing explanation for why he'd not eaten, drank, or slept in a week. He'd strung together a little bit of the knowledge he'd acquired from the library and acted in the manner of 'righteousness' as he typically did when playing the part of the upstanding Zodiac Formation King. He'd not meant a single word he'd uttered. 

Weak defeating the strong?

Rubbish!

Utter balderdash!

To defeat the strong, one needed to be stronger! That was the law of the universe!

What sort of fool would hear such words and eat them like rice?

"Neji-sama is amazing!"

"All hail Neji-sama!"

"The pride of the Branch House!"

"Neji-sama!"

"Oh, hail the Noble Neji-sama!"

The endless words and praises assaulted his ears and vexed Zi Wuji. He didn't want to be loved by such a disgusting clan of slaves who bowed their heads in servitude. Fear was what he wanted from them. 

He'd wanted them to fear him enough so they'd leave him be!

Of all the unfortunate…

"Neji-sama!"

"Neji!"

Was it the hunger? The sleep-deprivation?

No, neither of such things should have been enough to overwhelm his superior will. Yet, his vision spun. A burning sensation ignited in his chest. Consciousness slowly receded from him, and the last thing he saw before being embraced by darkness, was his father's face as the man rushed toward him.