Fox Tales — Act Eight: [Overlooking the Past Life]
How pitiable—a life spent in its entirety pursuing what was destined to be lost, expending everything in that pursuit. What grief. What anguish.
If being granted happiness is the gods' blessing upon humanity—then is being made to suffer their curse?
So... if the cycle of rebirth brings this much pain, let it stop.
[In my... embrace.]
Lady Higan stood in a sea of black flowers. The dark petals turned on the wind, and countless blurred shapes moved through them—human souls, every one, souls that had surrendered their claim to reincarnation and lingered instead, clinging to this black sea of spider lilies. This was Lady Higan's domain. Her purpose.
Zuolin's body lay in the heart of a single vast black bloom, as if the flowers themselves had claimed him. The young man's form held an empty quality—as though it might dissolve into the air at any moment.
[Stand down, flower demon. Imprisoning souls by force—this must end.]
Kyoya's voice came from behind Lady Higan. The young onmyōji stood at the threshold of the flower sea, composed and still.
[Walk away now, and I have no desire to destroy you.]
Lady Higan turned with a soft laugh. Her long black hair and the sash at her waist caught the wind together, like the flowers dancing under an open sky.
[Walk away... and be spared? What magnanimous mercy, onmyōji. But tell me—do you know why humans sacrifice themselves for others?]
The question carried a warmth entirely divorced from killing intent—no arrogance in it, only something unclassifiable, quietly churning just beneath the surface.
[When humans sacrifice themselves for others, it is because the heart compels them to. For the sake of what the heart holds dear, they will spend themselves completely.]
Kyoya raised one hand to adjust the Western-style glasses on his face. The wide white sleeve of his robe slid back slightly. He could feel it already—the yokai before him was far from powerless.
[Exactly so. And yet—humans are such grievously fragile things. Their lives, each one only once. And still, they spend those lives for another. I have walked through the memories of countless people—and it is always the same. And so... for the sake of the one my heart holds dear, I too am prepared to forfeit my life.]
A smile—warm, absolute, carrying the conviction of someone who had already decided everything. Lady Higan raised her hand, and the earth beneath her swelled and ruptured as her vast yokai power shaped it into a terrifying creature. The wandering souls around her poured into it, flooding it with visible black malice from every side.
[And so~ every preparation has been made—including, for the one I hold dear, the resolve to become an evil spirit and be cursed by all who live! Onmyōji-sama—if you truly mean to make me stop, then come with the intent to slay me!]
Standing atop the creature's head, Lady Higan's voice rose to an unshakable pitch. The nightmare beast beneath her gave a savage roar and swept one razor-edged claw directly at Kyoya, still standing his ground—!!
---
"Still not right."
Hinata's voice, cool as winter glass, was its own form of torment for everyone on set.
Even Asuma—in the middle of peeling off the monster costume—felt a cold sweat forming at the back of his neck.
"This... erm... Hinata, everyone has really been giving it everything they have, so—maybe just a short break first? Is that okay?"
Ino, now serving as Hinata's lady-in-waiting, spoke up carefully, doing her best to soften the expression of frozen displeasure on Hinata's face. Her effort worked, at least to a degree—Hinata paused, then gave a silent nod. The rest of the crew exhaled as one, and began evacuating the room with the casual but unmistakable efficiency of people who had just been freed from mortal peril.
"Seriously~ this is terrifying—is this the third retake today? Thank god I wasn't in this scene."
Kiba wiped the sweat from his forehead with profound relief. Being subjected to repeated demands to redo something you believed you'd already done correctly was an experience that went well beyond ordinary disappointment.
"Who knows~ all I know is today has been even more troublesome than usual~!"
Even Shikamaru's voice carried weight today. He had, strictly speaking, developed something resembling a genuine emotion. Being asked again and again to do a thing—and being told each time it still wasn't right—crossed a line past routine frustration.
"Come to think of it... I've had this feeling since this morning that something about Hinata's expression was slightly off. Not obviously. Just something."
Sakura glanced back at the room Hinata had entered, brow furrowed. As a girl, she noticed things the others missed, and right now, something about the set of Hinata's face had been registering wrong since they'd started.
"She's right—you can't make definitive conclusions yet, but one thing is certain: Hinata's mood today is not good."
Ino spoke with the quiet gravity of someone confirming a tactical assessment. The others exchanged uncertain looks. Even Asuma was rubbing the back of his head with a helpless expression, exhausted from his time inside the creature costume.
"It doesn't track otherwise. Hinata's disposition is reliably composed—she doesn't reject things without cause. Which means she genuinely finds Shikamaru's and my acting in this scene inadequate. Which also means her reaction is real, not arbitrary."
Shino adjusted his glasses with one finger, precise as ever. Even having endured the same repeated retakes, his shinobi analytical habits had him looking for the root cause rather than simply resenting the effect.
"Give me a break... even granting that, a person's mood does color how they see everything. Like how my mom sometimes looks at the whole world and decides it's all wrong."
Shikamaru rubbed his shoulder with lazy weariness. His words caused Shino's glasses to catch the light as he turned. "You mean... you're suggesting Hinata's body might be the issue? That her time of the month is affecting her mood?"
"Wait, HOLD ON, are you two seriously saying Hinata's time of the month—OWWWWW!!"
Before the sentence could land, Sakura's charged Shoryuken caught Kiba square on the jaw and launched him skyward. The pink-haired girl's face had gone completely red.
"SHUT UP!! You don't just say that out loud in broad daylight!!"
Watching Kiba trace a graceful arc and vanish into the distance, Naruto blinked in honest confusion. "Huh? What did Kiba say? What's a 'time of the month'? Is something wrong with Hinata?"
"One more word and it's your turn—!!"
Ino shook her fist at him, her own face flushed. "Boys are all baka, every last one!!"
Observing this from a slight remove, Sasuke gave a quiet shake of his head. He spoke without particular emphasis.
"In that case, my suggestion is that we don't force another retake. If everyone here believes the current footage is acceptable—push it through with what we have."
The statement landed in a brief silence.
Simple, straightforward—and, turned over carefully, unmistakably transgressive. Sasuke was effectively proposing to override Hinata's judgment and pass the footage without her approval.
"That... might not be appropriate. She is the director, after all..."
Choji shifted uncomfortably over his snacks. The proposal was plain enough on the surface, but the undertone was there once you paid attention.
"Our organization doesn't exist solely because of her. When it's necessary, individuals have to make decisions for the group."
Sasuke said it evenly, with the casual certainty of someone stating an obvious thing.
The room went quiet. The question of which took precedence—the organization or the individual—was the kind that never had a clean answer.
---
"The Uchiha Clan's tendency to act unilaterally—that high-handed streak. Still very much alive in Sasuke."
In the Hokage's office, the Third watched the dark-haired boy's face in his crystal ball and gave a measured shake of his head. At his side, Kakashi spoke gently.
"He's not wrong, though. Hinata is brilliant and formidable—but just as the production team doesn't exist for her alone, she shouldn't have to carry every burden and every responsibility by herself either."
"Kakashi—you're their sensei. Your words carry the most weight here. But I can feel it: the time I have left is not long. And that makes it necessary to ensure the next generation—especially those with the potential and aptitude Hinata has—are ready for what comes next."
The Third's expression had turned genuinely grave. It wasn't sentiment—it was the clear-eyed reckoning of a sixty-nine-year-old man watching his own vitality retreat. Shinobi who reached this age were rare in any era. A village leader owed it to his people to plan well before the last light.
A shortage of funds or military strength could always be rebuilt over time. But a gap in leadership succession—that led to absolute, irreversible destruction.
"I understand what you're saying. But I'm worried... about Hinata."
Kakashi lowered his head. The Third's meaning was plain enough. Concentrating development resources on Hinata meant, among other things, cultivating her authority over the coming generation—and that required ensuring no one who openly defied her commands be allowed to persist in doing so. Sasuke's suggestion just now was precisely the kind of thing that needed to be addressed.
"Don't worry. I've already sent for those two wayward, unfilial disciples of mine. If they have any respect left for a dying old sensei, they'll come home before the end. And when they do—seeing what this village has become, what it's walking toward—they'll understand that it hasn't stopped moving."
The Third removed the pipe from his mouth. His eyes, looking forward, were gentle and deep as ever.
"After this year's Chunin Exams—I think it will be about time for me to formally step down."