It had been a long time since Hyuga Miotto had heard such foolish words. His gaze involuntarily fell upon Hyuga Sōtai.
Konoha, Hyuga Clan, Main Family—did these titles really hold such terrifying power?
He sighed inwardly. Konoha was still in the midst of war; even a Kage could die at any moment. What worth, then, did the name of the Hyuga Main Family truly carry? Was it nobler than the life of a Kage himself?
Miotto understood what kind of education Sōtai had received since childhood—his arrogance, his blind belief in clan supremacy—but at this moment, disappointment still welled up in Miotto's heart.
He opened his mouth to speak, but before the words left his lips, the ground beneath his feet exploded.
A figure in civilian clothes, face hidden behind a fearsome demon mask, burst from the earth like a thunderbolt. The next instant, a powerful fist came crashing toward him, the gust of its passage slicing across his face like a blade.
Such speed! Such power!
With one glance, Miotto's instincts screamed. The man before him possessed strength and speed beyond his own comprehension—beyond even most Jōnin. And he himself, Hyuga Miotto, had been evaluated as a Special Jōnin precisely for his Taijutsu skill!
Even so, he could barely discern the attacker's movement—only enough to thrust his kunai in a desperate attempt to counter.
Riku, now fully transformed into his prepared disguise, was unrecognizable even to the Byakugan. Not a trace of his true self could be seen.
He hadn't yet realized how vast the gap was between him and an ordinary Special Jōnin, but Miotto's response still struck him as oddly sluggish—almost clumsy.
So slow? Did this man really think a simple kunai thrust could stop him?
Riku's lips curled beneath the mask. In the same instant, his fist opened into a claw. He caught Miotto's wrist mid-motion and twisted sharply. A crack resounded.
Miotto's agonized cry tore through the forest. The kunai slipped from his hand, spinning toward the ground—but before it landed, Riku's leg lashed out, kicking it aside. The blade flew like an arrow and embedded itself deep into a nearby tree trunk.
Everything happened in the span of a heartbeat. By the time Hyuga Sōtai reacted, Riku had already subdued Miotto completely.
But Riku's goal was not Miotto. His true target stood just behind—the proud young heir of the Hyuga Main Family. Miotto was merely an obstacle.
Under Sōtai's horrified gaze, Riku drew Miotto into a crushing grip, locking his arms around the man's waist. Then, without hesitation, he opened the First Gate of the Eight Gates Released Formation.
A wave of burning energy surged through his muscles, his veins bulging beneath his skin.
"—Hah!"
He arched backward violently.
A thunderous impact split the air. Stone fragments burst outward like shrapnel. When Riku released his hold and leaped back several paces, what remained on the ground was a headless corpse folded unnaturally in half.
The technique—born from Riku's own concept, refined through Maito Dai's brutal training methods, and fused with grappling skills from his previous life—proved its ferocity with horrifying finality.
Hyuga Miotto, Special Jōnin of the Hyuga Clan, had been annihilated in only two moves. His death was swift, merciless, and absolute.
Even in his final moment, Miotto never saw who had killed him.
This was Taijutsu—not the stylized form shown in training grounds, but Taijutsu meant for war. Against such raw physical power, even the most destructive Ninjutsu could seem clumsy in one-on-one combat.
Blood sprayed across Riku's hand, warm and heavy, yet his expression beneath the mask remained calm. There was no panic, no hesitation.
It was his first kill, but it did not shake him.
It was as though a violent, iron-blooded instinct had always slumbered deep in his bones—waiting for a moment like this.
He wiped his hand on his sleeve, leaving a dark smear of blood, then turned his cold smile toward the frozen Hyuga Sōtai.
"Kid," he said quietly. "It's your turn."
In a blur of motion, Riku vanished. His Body Flicker Technique carried him across seven meters in an instant, reappearing directly before Sōtai's terrified eyes.
His right hand rose, palm edge gleaming like a blade forged by heaven itself. One strike—one clean motion—and Sōtai's neck would snap like dry wood.
And at that moment, Riku truly meant to kill him.
One reason was vengeance—for Hinata Katyu.
Another was pragmatic. Sōtai's death would dissolve Riku's assigned duty as a Main Family guard. Without that burden, he could slip from the Hyuga Clan's watchful eyes, allowing his growth to continue unhindered.
But there was a third reason.
Sōtai was a member of the Hyuga Main Family. His death would inevitably send shockwaves through the entire clan. To uncover the culprit, the Hyuga would mobilize every hidden force they possessed—perhaps even the secret branches long forgotten by outsiders.
Riku wanted to see them.
He wanted to test the depth of this ancient clan's power.
If their strength proved overwhelming, he would bide his time, disappear into the shadows once more.
If they were weak—then he would strike, without mercy, without restraint.
All of these calculations flashed through his mind in an instant. The killing intent in his eyes hardened like steel.
Just as he prepared to bring his hand-blade down, the air whistled. Several kunai cut through the space between them, aimed precisely at Riku's vital points.
His enhanced perception caught them easily—their speed, their angles, their lethal intent.
If he chose to finish Sōtai, he would be unable to avoid the incoming blades.
Without hesitation, Riku pivoted aside, his body twisting with explosive grace. As he retreated, he channeled all his strength into his right leg and unleashed a roundhouse kick.
The strike connected squarely with Sōtai's chest.
The young Hyuga flew through the air like a broken doll, crashing through several thick trees before vanishing into the underbrush. Whether he lived or died, Riku did not know.
He exhaled slowly. A flicker of regret passed through his eyes—regret that the kill had been interrupted—but it vanished quickly as he turned to face the new arrival.
A boy stood at the edge of the clearing, short, perhaps one and a half meters tall, with black hair and eyes burning crimson.
Riku didn't need to look twice. An Uchiha.
But this one was different—not as strikingly handsome as others of his clan. His nose was slightly upturned, his face youthful, even plain.
A name surfaced in Riku's mind, and he spoke in a low, distorted voice:
"Uchiha Shisui?"
The boy narrowed his eyes. Beneath the demon mask, he could not see Riku's expression, but his own remained calm and sharp.
"It's me," he replied evenly. "You know who I am?"
Riku tilted his head slightly, amused.
"No matter who you are," Shisui continued, his voice rising with authority, "surrender now and accept Konoha's judgment. Otherwise, you'll regret it."
His gaze darted briefly to the corpse at Riku's feet—the mangled body of Hyuga Miotto—and a flash of anger lit his crimson eyes.
He had only just returned from the front lines. To see such a brutal murder within his own village filled him with righteous fury.
A Konoha ninja had been slain—how could he, Uchiha Shisui, a believer in the Will of Fire, allow the killer to walk free?
"Oh?" Riku's tone turned mocking. "You do realize it's the Hyuga Clan I killed, don't you? Are you sure you want to stop me?"
The words hung in the air, cold and deliberate.
If spoken to another Uchiha, proud and arrogant, they might have provoked hesitation or pride. But Shisui was different. He lived by the Will of Fire—the belief that every comrade, every life in Konoha, was worth protecting.
To him, this statement was not a deterrent. It was an insult.
"Shut up!" he snapped, his Sharingan flaring brighter. "The Hyuga Clan are also Konoha ninja. They're my comrades. You—" his voice dropped to a growl—"you're the one looking for death!"
Despite his youth, Uchiha Shisui was already a warrior of renown. The battlefield had earned him the name Shisui of the Body Flicker, whispered with awe and fear alike.
And though the villagers saw him as kind, patient, even gentle—a big brother figure to all—in this moment, to Riku, he was something else entirely.
A grim reaper.
A Shinigami cloaked in flame, ready to claim his soul.
The forest fell silent, tension coiling between them like drawn wire.
Riku shifted his stance, lowering his center of gravity. The First Gate still burned within him, its power humming beneath his skin.
Shisui mirrored him, one hand reaching for his kunai, the other hovering near his chest in a stance ready for both offense and defense.
Two prodigies—one masked in shadow, the other lit by the Will of Fire—faced each other under the dim forest light.
Blood dripped from Miotto's corpse, pattering onto the dirt. A gust of wind swept through the clearing, carrying the metallic scent into the air.
And with that, the next storm began.
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