The Taketori Clan's territory was deep within the rolling mountains on the border of the Land of Fire, shrouded in thin mist at dawn and dusk.
As Hizashi led his wife and son through the dew-laden bamboo forest, the clan leader, Taketori Ichiya, personally saw them off to the end of the mountain path.
Ichiya's figure was as lean and tough as bamboo, dressed in grey-green clan attire, the clan's crest on his back faintly visible in the white mist.
He asked nothing, merely placing a hand on Hizashi's shoulder.
"The fog is heavier over Konoha…" Ichiya's voice sounded like two pieces of dry bamboo rubbing together, "It's good that you see the path clearly."
Hizashi bowed deeply. This friend, far removed from Konoha, had ultimately given him space to breathe.
"Take care…" Hizashi's reply was brief and forceful. He said no more.
He turned, took his wife's warm hand, and firmly placed his other hand on young Neji's small yet straight shoulders, merging into the winding mountain path below that led back to Konoha Village.
The Hyuga Clan's compound in Konoha Village was serene and solemn.
Before the main gate, Hiashi stood on the stone steps, dressed in the Main Family's traditional plain white robes. Several stern-looking branch family's members stood behind him, the bluish-grey curse mark visible on their forehead protector.
The sunlight was cut by his upright figure, casting a long, sharply defined shadow that stretched to the feet of Hizashi as he approached.
Hizashi's wife instinctively pulled little Neji behind her.
Neji's Byakugan lifted, filled with the unique clarity of a child, and met the deep, unfathomable gravity in his uncle Hiashi's white eyes.
A moment of silence passed, with only the sound of the wind rustling Hiashi's wide sleeves and the strands of hair on Hizashi's forehead.
"It is good that you have returned safely…" Hiashi's voice was steady and even, betraying no emotion.
He stepped forward, his movements carrying a sense of ritual, and personally brushed non-existent dust from Hizashi's shoulder.
His fingertips traced the fabric, the subtle touch conveying the strict hierarchy between them with unmistakable clarity.
Hiashi's gaze, under the insight of the Byakugan, swept over Hizashi's entire body, confirming he was unharmed. That gaze finally rested on Hizashi's left shoulder for a moment… or perhaps it was just an illusion.
Then he turned to his sister-in-law and nephew, his tone slightly warmer, and nodded, "You have endured a long journey."
After the brief welcome, Hizashi took his wife and child back to their independent courtyard in the branch family's area.
The room was as tidy as when they had left, even the scent of incense in the air remained unchanged, yet an intangible chill had already seeped into every inch of wood and floor tile.
That night, Hizashi sat alone before the desk in his study.
Only a single low lamp was lit inside, its bean-sized flame flickering across his face, illuminating the Caged Bird's mark on his forehead in half-light and half-shadow, like a living creature coiled upon his pale skin.
Spread open on the desk was not a scroll, but a thin sheet of paper recording the roster of branch family's members.
His fingertips brushed over those familiar names. There was no resentment, only concern for the future of the Hyuga Clan.
Having witnessed the relics of the bloody purge between the Otsutsuki Clan's main and branch families on the moon, having seen the unprecedented war that erupted over disagreements regarding their ancestor, Hamura's will… a war that ended with the branch family fusing countless Byakugan to create the Giant Tenseigan… and now facing his elder brother Hiashi's stern face, itself bound layer upon layer by the main family's rules, Hizashi found, strangely, that he could not summon much hatred.
It was merely another cage, and Hiashi was just a prisoner of a higher rank within it.
But this realization brought not comfort, but a heavier loathing.
A loathing for the main and branch family system itself, which shackled the soul from birth to death!
A deep-seated hatred for the system that used bloodlines as chains, divided people into ranks, and generation after generation stripped away freedom and hope!
Every name on this roster could lead to freedom, or it could lead to an abyss.
Just as his fingertip hovered above the name of a young branch family's Ninjas-
The candle flame beside him flickered, ever so slightly yet with abnormal clarity.
It was not the wind.
The air in the sealed study congealed like solidified grease for a split second… the next moment, the candle flame burned steadily.
His head snapped up!
Outside the window, in the thick night, a figure stood silently, as if it had appeared out of nowhere on the narrow balcony in the moonlight.
A wide black robe nearly merged with the shadows, only its hem swaying slightly in the night breeze, its edges outlined by the faint moonlight with knife-sharp folds.
The white three-eyed fox mask on the person's face was cold and smooth. Behind the mask's eye holes, a gaze rested calmly upon him, piercing through the dimly lit study like a basin of ice water poured over his head!
It's none other than Shura!
Hizashi's heart tightened.
He quickly walked out from behind his desk and dropped to one knee.
"Shura-sama!"
His voice held a trace of hidden hope and a slight tremble.
In his lowered line of sight, he could only see those shoes resting on the windowsill.
'Why had Shura-sama come to find me again so soon?'
'Had there been some misstep during the moon mission?'
'Or...'
But Shura did not enter the study.
He stood on the narrow balcony outside the window, bathed in moonlight, like a silhouette cut out from the night itself, inhuman.
Without a single superfluous word, the three tomoes in the left eye beneath the mask spun wildly, forming a peculiar spiral pattern.
Then, Menma slightly raised his hand, clad in a black fingerless glove, palm facing the prostrate Hizashi. His fingers spread open, performing an extremely simple, smooth motion, like brushing away a cobweb.
[Ame-no-Minakanushi!]
A faint, almost imperceptible spatial ripple spread out silently.
Hizashi's entire body tensed violently!
Not from intense pain, but a very peculiar sensation!
His forehead, the location of the Caged Bird!
The brand that had accompanied him for half his life, as if grown into his very bones and flesh, vanished completely in an instant!
There was no sting, no discomfort… as if it had never existed. Only the phantom pain from past activations of the Caged Bird remained in his memory.
Replacing it was an indescribable… emptiness.
An absolute, profound sense of lightness!
The death prohibition that had loomed over the depths of his mind, a constant sword hanging over his head, had disappeared without a trace!
Hizashi slowly raised a trembling hand, reaching for his own forehead!
His shaking fingers frantically explored the skin that once bore the bluish-grey mark of the Caged Bird.
It was smooth! Completely flat!
Nothing remained but the skin's own natural, subtle textures!
The Caged Bird, symbolizing restriction and the power over life and death-
Was gone!
Completely… erased!
As if it had never been there!
An indescribable torrent of intense emotion instantly shattered the mental defenses Hizashi had built over decades.
Like a prisoner confined in a dark cell for most of his life suddenly thrown into blinding sunlight, the immense shock made his vision darken.
His mind went blank.
Rapturous joy?
No, deeper than that was a vast, bewildering confusion and uncontrolled bitterness… the aftermath of sudden salvation from despair!
Tears burst forth like a breached dam, utterly uncontrollable, streaming unabated through the fingers pressed hard against his forehead, falling to strike dark, wet marks on the cold floor.
A sound, suppressed to its absolute limit, a choked sob like that of a dying beast, escaped his clenched teeth, only to be violently swallowed back deep into his throat, leaving only his shoulders shaking with uncontrollable tremors.
Before the window-
The gaze behind the white three-eyed fox mask seemed utterly unmoved.
"This is your reward." Menma's voice came through the darkness, as cold as ever, without a trace of emotional fluctuation.
"The mark is removed, its traces erased. As for how to explain its absence or conceal it..."
The figure outside the window paused slightly. The silhouette outlined by the moonlight seemed to make an almost imperceptible adjustment, like observing an experimental subject just released from its chains learning to walk again.
"...you will handle it yourself."
Before the echo of the words faded, Menma's right hand, which had just wielded that formless power, dropped casually back to his side. The black sleeve slid down, concealing everything.
"The time for the branch family's exodus is almost ripe. Finalize the list quickly."
The moment the words fell, the moonlight on the balcony outside the window seemed to ripple like water.
The figure standing there, along with the patch of moonlight it occupied, vanished on the spot as if melting snow, leaving only the empty balcony outside.
The night breeze brushed past, stirring a few bamboo leaves that had been frozen in the air by an invisible force moments before, setting them tumbling once more.
"Yes, Shura-sama-" A hoarse, low response followed.
Inside the study, silence returned.
Only the weak, bean-sized flame of the low lamp remained, and the figure on the floor, kneeling and trembling as if his soul had left him, still pressing hard against his own forehead.
Hizashi's fingers dug deep into the skin of his temple, now smooth beyond compare, feeling the texture of skin free from curse and prohibition for the very first time. Tears mixed with sweat and an immense sense of unreality flowed incessantly.
He took a deep breath of the still-cool, yet somehow freer air, as if trying to draw this unprecedented feeling of lightness into every corner of his being.
He slowly raised his head, his Byakugan fully active! He felt the 360-degree, blind-spotless field of view!
"Haha~! Hahahaha!!!"
Hizashi suddenly laughed wildly.
"Hiashi! I won! I won!"
Hizashi seemed to transform into a laughing Uchiha, his laughter carrying a hint of madness and sorrow.
That list, which originally signified immense risk, had its meaning subtly inverted now that the intangible heavy pressure of the Caged Bird had suddenly vanished.