The house feels different now.

I walk through the halls, my hands pressed together in front of me. I try not to make noise, but my feet still tap against the wooden floor. Everything is too quiet. Not a good kind of quiet. A waiting kind of quiet. Like something is missing. Like something is wrong.

I stop when I hear whispers.

"Hinata-sama... she's too young."

I don't understand everything, but I understand enough. They are talking about Father. About what happens now that he is gone.

I lower my head and keep walking. I don't want to hear any more. I don't want to think about... that night. But I can't stop.

It comes back in pieces, like a bad dream. The walls breaking. The cold wind rushing in. The masked man standing over Father. I remember the way he moved-too fast, too strong. Like a shadow, but heavier, like a rock crashing through the house.

And I remember something else.

When Father fought him, when the dust filled the air, I opened my eyes wide. My Byakugan. I don't use it much, but that night... they opened on their own.

For a moment, just a second, I saw something. A face.

It was blurry. Wrong. Like looking at a reflection in water that won't stay still. But somehow... I knew it. I don't know why. I don't know who. But something about it felt familiar.

I blink, and it's gone.

The next thing I remember is Father falling. His eyes-gone. Blood on the floor. The masked man leaving. And me, frozen, unable to move, unable to do anything.

Now, two days later, I still don't know why I saw that face. I still don't know who it was. But the feeling won't go away.

I stop in front of the big door to the main chamber. It's open just a little. I peek inside.

The elders are talking. They sit where Father used to sit. They don't look sad. Just serious.

Neji-niisan is there. His hands are fists. He looks mad. Or maybe hurt.

One of the elders speaks. His voice is heavy, like a stone. "For now, we will lead. The Hyūga must not appear weak to the village. We will guide Hinata-sama until she is ready-or until Hanabi proves the better choice."

I step back before they see me.

They have already decided.

I turn away and keep walking. I press my fingers into my sleeve.

Who was that man? And why did he feel like someone I already knew?

-──◇◆◇──-

Kiyotaka's pov:

The room was dimly lit, the cold stone walls absorbing every flicker of the torches. This facility was smaller than the main Root headquarters, but it was just as lifeless, just as sterile.

I stood in the center of the training hall, the weight of silence pressing against my skin. The air was thick, charged with the presence of something unseen, something waiting.

This is the last piece.

Danzo's words echoed in my mind even before he spoke to them. His footsteps were precise as he emerged from the darkness, his bandaged arm resting at his side. His expression remained unreadable, but I understood him. His mind was already working on the future.

I knelt.

Danzo stopped a few steps away. His gaze settled on me, measuring, calculating.

"The Hokage believes he has crushed my foundation." His voice was low, firm. "His Anbu raided our stronghold, tearing apart years of work in a single night. But they only captured those who were present. The ones on missions-my best-remained beyond his reach."

I listened.

He raised a hand.

A flicker of movement.

Twenty figures emerged from the shadows, surrounding us.

Their presence was different from the usual Root operatives.

Danzo turned to them.

"These men are the most skilled operatives in the history of the Foundation."

Some of them shifted slightly, their attention flickering toward me. I could feel their scrutiny. They did not know me. They had not witnessed my training.

To them, I am a child.

It was not their fault. The majority of Root members trained in separate squads, unaware of each other's true capabilities. Only Danzo knew all of us. He alone understood the extent of my training.

And yet, even now, I saw doubt in their eyes.

A murmur passed between them. A whisper barely audible.

"A child?"

"He's young. This is a waste of time."

Danzo's gaze flickered toward them, his single visible eye piercing through their hesitation.

"Kill him. This is an order."

The murmurs ceased instantly.

Emotion was not permitted in Root, but the human mind was weak. Even the strongest soldiers questioned what they did not understand.

Danzo turned back to me.

"This is your final lesson," he stated. "Survive."

A simple command. Nothing more.

I exhaled slowly.

Danzo stepped away, moving toward the exit.

Before he could leave, I spoke.

"Am I allowed to kill them?"

The room tensed.

Danzo halted. His head turned slightly, his lips barely shifting. Then, a smirk.

"You can't kill them."

He left without another word.

The door shut behind him.

Silence.

-──◇◆◇──-

Silence settled over the dimly lit chamber, save for the faint flickering of the torches along the cold stone walls. The twenty Root operatives stood in a perfect circle around me, their gazes sharp, unreadable. Their stances were low, precise, honed by years of training under Danzo's strict doctrine.

But they still didn't understand.

They saw a child.

A single boy against twenty of the most lethal assassins Root had ever produced. The numbers were in their favor. Their experience, their coordination-it should have ensured a swift execution.

I watched as three of them rushed forward first, their movements sharp and synchronized. Each of them drew their tanto blades in perfect unison, aiming directly for my vitals. One targeted my throat, another aimed for my heart, and the last sought to pierce through my kidney-a calculated strike pattern meant to kill instantly.

I didn't move.

They assumed I would react out of fear, out of desperation-that I would dodge recklessly, exposing my back to the rest.

At the last moment, I sidestepped the first slash, moving an inch beyond the tanto's reach. My hand snapped out, fingers wrapping around the first attacker's wrist in a vice grip.

I felt the tension in his muscles, the brief moment of resistance before I twisted.

A sharp pop echoed in the chamber.

His elbow bent in the wrong direction.

No scream. He had been trained to endure pain, but his body instinctively flinched as I released him, sending him staggering backward.

The second attacker lunged, blade aiming straight for my ribs.

I dropped my weight, ducking under the strike. As the momentum of his swing carried him forward, I swept my leg beneath him, striking at the base of his stance.

His body twisted mid-air before crashing onto the stone floor with a dull thud. The impact rattled through his frame, but he was already adjusting, rolling to recover-

I shot forward before he could rise, bringing my knee down onto his chest. The force sent a tremor through his ribs. A sharp exhale escaped his lips.

Before I could finish him, the third operative struck.

A kunai.

He had aimed for the side of my neck, an attack meant to pierce through the jugular vein.

My hand moved before his blade could reach its target. My fingers closed around the kunai's handle, stopping its momentum instantly.

His eyes widened.

I drove the kunai into his shoulder joint, twisting the blade. His muscles locked up, nerves screaming in agony. His grip on the weapon faltered, and I shoved him back.

I felt the shift in the air before I saw them.

Wind Style: Vacuum Sphere.

Two operatives formed hand seals in unison, their chakra compressing into near-invisible air bullets.

The first shot came from my right.

I leaned left.

The second bullet was already closing in.

I raised a single finger, flicking a small pulse of Wind Chakra toward it. The air bullet curved, redirecting its trajectory back toward its original caster.

Impact.

The compressed air struck his chest, sending him flying backward. His body slammed against the stone wall with a sickening crack.

The second caster hesitated.

But before I could capitalize, two others moved.

Lightning Style: Lightning Fang.

They lashed out with electrified whips, the energy crackling violently. The whips shot toward me from opposite angles, attempting to corner me, limit my mobility.

I didn't turn to them.

Instead, I raised two fingers.

The ground beneath me trembled.

A wall of earth erupted between us, blocking the incoming lightning attacks. The impact sent sparks flying, illuminating the dust cloud that followed.

For a moment, their vision was obscured.

I disappeared.

The dust parted as I flickered through it, reappearing behind one of the Lightning Style users.

He had no time to react.

I struck.

A precise palm thrust to his spine.

The force sent him hurtling forward, his body collapsing onto the stone floor. The other lightning user turned to retaliate-

My hand moved, forming a sequence of one-handed seals in rapid succession.

Blue flames ignited around me, forming eight floating orbs. They burned with an eerie glow, moving in perfect synchronization as they orbited my frame.

The air grew heavy.

The remaining operatives hesitated.

But two among them attempted something else.

Genjutsu.

I felt the intrusion instantly. The subtle shift in chakra, the way my perception of time seemed to slow.

I shattered the illusion before it could fully take hold, my chakra pulsing outward in a sharp disruption wave.

Before they could react, I moved.

The first Genjutsu user was within reach. My fist struck his gut with enough force to rupture internal tissue. Blood spilled from his lips as he collapsed, unconscious before he hit the ground.

The second turned to flee.

I caught him mid-step.

A spinning kick to the side of his temple.

Impact.

His body twisted mid-air before slamming against the floor. Unconscious.

The remaining operatives stopped.

They were no longer looking at a child.

12 seconds have passed since Danzo left the room.

The remaining Root agents were adapting. Their movements, once reckless in their confidence, had shifted into calculated coordination.

Two agents stepped forward, their hands forming seals with practiced efficiency.

"Fire Style: Great Fireball Jutsu."

Twin orbs of searing flames erupted from their mouths, converging toward me in synchronized arcs. The fire illuminated the darkened room, their intent obvious-not to strike me directly, but to cut off my movement, to herd me into a predictable escape path where another attack would be waiting.

I raised two fingers. The instant the flames reached critical proximity, a wall of water surged from the ground before me, conjured with precise chakra control. The fire hissed upon contact, steam exploding outward, reducing visibility.

I sensed movement above. Three agents had leaped into the air, kunai in hand. Not ordinary kunai-each one glowed with the telltale flicker of explosive tags. The timing was tight. They planned to throw them mid-air, ensuring my options were minimal.

I moved first.

My hand darted out, snatching two kunai from the air before they could reach their apex. A split-second calculation. I adjusted my grip, twisting my wrist, and hurled them back with precise angles. The agents had no time to react. The first kunai embedded itself in one's thigh, detonating instantly. The second struck another's shoulder, the explosion sending them crashing downward. The third kunai-aimed directly at me-I stepped to the side at the last possible moment, the explosion igniting harmlessly in empty air.

Before I could land, two more agents appeared from the blind spot behind me. Their hands moved in sync, chakra pooling in their palms.

"Water Style: Water Prison Jutsu."

A bubble of liquid encased me. A standard technique for immobilization, but an effective one in close-quarters. They had positioned themselves well-eliminating any immediate physical exit.

Rather than struggle, I shifted my focus downward. My chakra surged into my feet, channeling itself into the floor beneath. A sudden pulse-shockwave. The ground trembled violently. The disruption broke their concentration for the smallest fraction of a second. It was enough. The water prison collapsed, splashing uselessly to the floor as I blurred out of their grasp.

From the periphery, another agent stepped forward, one hand forming the final seal.

"Wind Style: Gale Palm."

A blast of compressed air shot toward me, designed to stagger my footing, to make me an easier target for the next attack.

I twisted my torso, letting the force skim past my shoulder rather than absorbing the full impact. At the same moment, I rechanneled the residual air pressure into my own strike. Wind-enhanced combat techniques were tricky-difficult to control. But with the right precision...

I twisted into a counterattack. My fist accelerated unnaturally fast, enhanced by the redirected force. The agent had no time to react as my punch connected with his ribcage. The amplified impact sent him skidding across the ground, coughing blood as his body crashed into the opposite wall.

I landed, only to feel the ground beneath me shift.

"Earth Style: Mud Swamp."

The terrain liquefied, attempting to drag me under. A subjugation technique-effective for limiting mobility. If I allowed my feet to sink fully, it would be problematic.

I exhaled. Then released a precise, focused burst of chakra from my soles. The resulting force sent me launching into the air, avoiding the trap entirely.

Two more agents were waiting. Their weapons shimmered with a crackling glow. Lightning-enhanced blades-designed for cutting through defenses with electrical conduction. They were aiming for vital points.

The first blade came for my throat. I caught the attacker's wrist mid-swing, shifting my hand to the kunai hilt and channeling chakra into my palm. Instead of merely defending, I redirected the lightning flow. Their own chakra rebounded, the feedback frying their nervous system. Their body convulsed, unable to handle the electrical overload, before collapsing.

Another blade lunged from behind. I reacted instantly, flipping mid-air. The blade passed inches beneath me. In the same motion, I twisted downward, planting my heel onto the attacker's wrist. The force shattered bone. Their weapon clattered uselessly to the floor as they screamed.

I landed smoothly, my movements uninterrupted.

A pause.

The remaining Root agents hesitated. The first sign of doubt crept into their eyes. They had begun this battle assuming it would be an easy execution.

I raised a single hand.

Five kunai materialized between my fingers, grasped effortlessly. The agents barely had time to react before I flicked my wrist. The kunai launched forward, each one striking a precise location-legs, shoulders, non-lethal points that ensured immobilization. The cries of pain were immediate. The five impacted agents collapsed, their bodies writhing from the sudden agony.

The fight wasn't over. Not yet.

Three Root members adjusted their stances, moving with the synchronization of soldiers trained to fight as one. Their tanto blades glinted under the dim light, their grips firm, movements disciplined.

They lunged simultaneously, their blades carving through the air toward my vital points.

Left. Right. Center.

The center attacker aimed for my chest, forcing me into a defensive stance. The one on the left angled his blade toward my ribs. The third struck from the right, attempting to sever my tendons.

I stepped forward. Faster than they expected. Before the central attacker could react, my hand shot out, gripping his blade-barehanded.

There was a brief pause, the smallest hesitation in his grip, as if his mind couldn't process what he was seeing. Before that hesitation could fade, I twisted my wrist. The blade jerked violently, wrenching free from his grasp. The moment it left his hand, I shifted my stance, channeling chakra into my palm.

Wind Style.

The stolen blade accelerated unnaturally as I hurled it back. A gust carried it, increasing its velocity mid-flight. The second attacker barely had time to react before it buried itself into his forearm. A cry of pain followed. His fingers spasmed, dropping his weapon.

Two down.

The third adjusted instantly, showing better composure. He darted backward, putting distance between us. His hands flashed through seals.

Fire Style: Phoenix Sage Fire.

Small orbs of flame burst into existence, each one zipping towards me.

I advanced-calmly.

Each bullet of fire missed by mere inches. I stepped through them as though walking down an ordinary street. The heat brushed against my skin, but my pace never changed.

This was just another task. A mundane process.

I saw it in their eyes. The doubt. The fear creeping in.

One of them decided to change the battlefield.

He inhaled deeply, hands flashing through the familiar sequence of seals.

"Hidden Mist Jutsu."

A thick fog expanded outward, swallowing the battlefield in seconds. Visibility dropped to near zero. Even for a trained shinobi, fighting in this environment was a gamble. Movements became uncertain. Strikes were blind.

I heard them shift. Footsteps around me, silent but not silent enough. A blade sliced through the mist, aimed at my back.

I sidestepped. The attack missed. Another came from the right. I twisted, avoiding it with minimal effort.

I exhaled. My chakra surged, manipulating the air around me.

Wind Style.

A powerful gust erupted outward. The mist scattered, dissolving in an instant. The two attackers hidden within were pushed back violently, skidding across the floor.

Before they could recover, I moved.

One flicker.

I reappeared behind the first agent. Before he could react, my palm struck the base of his skull. A precise impact. Instant unconsciousness. His body crumpled.

The second attacker hesitated. He saw his comrade fall and his fingers twitched.

Then, he did something unexpected.

He dropped his blade.

A surrender. Not in words, but in action. His body language screamed fear. He had lost the will to fight.

I didn't waste time on him. My attention shifted to the last true threat.

A single Root elite stepped forward.

He inhaled deeply. His chakra surged.

"Fire Style: Fire Dragon Jutsu."

From his