When Biwa Juzo finally understood why the Hyuga had come for him, his expression twisted through several shades of disbelief and dread.
He wasn't unlucky—he was cursed.
He'd stumbled into the one thing no Mist-nin wanted to encounter this deep inside the Land of Fire: the Hyuga Main Family on a mission.
Now, with his body bound and chakra sealed, he could only kneel and listen as Hyuga Satoru's calm, almost casual voice drifted down to him.
"...You're awfully quiet. What's wrong? Not willing to betray your comrades?"
Before Juzo could answer, Hyuga Yuta, standing nearby, sneered.
"A man like you, who throws his subordinates to their deaths so he can run—do you even have comrades to betray?"
The words struck home. Those subtle movements Juzo had made earlier—edging backward, letting his men charge forward as bait—hadn't escaped the Hyuga's all-seeing eyes. Since the start of the battle, Yuta's Byakugan had never once left him.
"What did you say?" Juzo growled, veins bulging at his temple.
"You know nothing!"
"Only a man of my strength can protect my village!
My men stayed behind because that was their duty—and their resolve!
They knew exactly what I was doing!
That's our bond as Mist-nin—don't you dare insult it!"
His voice rose to a roar, the cords of his neck standing out as he struggled violently against his bindings. Even with his chakra sealed, the sheer physical strength of a former member of the Seven Ninja Swordsmen was monstrous. The ground cracked beneath him.
"Stay down!"
Hyuga Hizashi pressed his hands against Juzo's shoulders, his expression hard. Even he had to strain to hold the man still.
Just as Juzo was about to thrash free, Satoru's voice cut in—soft, but cold enough to freeze the air.
"You don't actually think putting on a show of loyalty will make me respect you, do you?"
Juzo froze mid-struggle.
"Don't waste your breath," Satoru continued, eyes flat and unreadable.
"Tell me where Ao is, and I'll keep my word."
The shift in tone—calm, measured, utterly devoid of emotion—snuffed out Juzo's anger like a doused flame. He understood, then, what kind of person he was dealing with.
Not a boy. Not some soft-hearted heir who could be tricked by talk of 'duty' and 'sacrifice.'
But a true shinobi—a predator in the shape of a child.
And predators didn't negotiate.
Still, if there was even the smallest chance to survive, he would seize it. He drew in a slow breath, lowering his eyes as his mind raced. He needed to make himself useful.
A pawn, after all, only lived as long as it had value.
"I know Ao," he said finally. "I know where to find him. I can help you."
Hizashi's grip tightened slightly—but Satoru said nothing, simply watching.
Juzo continued quickly, voice smooth now, almost pleading.
"I'm in the Land of Fire, yes—but Ao is still operating on Mist orders. He's constantly being reassigned, moving between missions. Tracking him won't be easy."
He let out a soft, calculated sigh.
"But I can find him. Let me go. I'll act as your mole—your dark seed inside the Mist. I can get close to him, bring back real information."
He met Satoru's gaze directly, forcing confidence into his smile.
"If you don't trust me, mark me with a curse seal. That's fine. But alive, I'm far more valuable than dead."
A bold offer—one he was sure the boy would take. He'd seen it in their eyes already: the Hyuga around him were intrigued. They exchanged glances; even Hizashi's brow furrowed thoughtfully.
An enemy of the Mist, turned spy? That kind of opportunity didn't come twice.
Juzo smirked inwardly. He had them.
This was the part he was good at—the bargaining table, not the battlefield.
And yet…
Satoru's expression didn't change. His pale eyes were unreadable pools, reflecting Juzo's desperate grin back at him like a mirror.
After a long silence, Satoru finally murmured, "A tempting proposal.
Hard to refuse, really."
Then—he smiled.
"But for the Hyuga… your value is limited."
Juzo blinked, confused.
"Our target is Ao," Satoru went on quietly. "As long as he remains a Mist-nin, he'll have to act on the battlefield sooner or later. Sooner or later, he'll reveal himself."
He took a step closer, the air around him tightening like a noose.
"You, on the other hand… your usefulness ends here."
"In fact, you'd serve me better dead."
Juzo's eyes widened.
"A member of the Seven Ninja Swordsmen of the Mist—" Satoru said softly, "the name alone carries weight.
If I bring your head back to Konoha, it'll raise my standing in the village—and in the clan. The reputation alone is worth more than whatever scraps of information you might bring."
"From a purely practical standpoint," he concluded,
"killing you is the more efficient choice."
The words were calm—too calm.
But their meaning hit Juzo like a blade to the gut.
"You—you only think about yourself?!" he sputtered.
"What about Konoha? Do you have any idea how valuable a spy like me could be to your village?!
You'd really throw that away—for reputation?"
Even Hizashi looked conflicted now. He knew this man's words held some truth; a mole inside the Mist could be an incredible asset. But the decision wasn't his to make. He glanced at his nephew and gave a subtle tug at Satoru's sleeve, as if to suggest—perhaps it was worth considering.
Satoru didn't so much as glance at him. He simply watched Juzo struggle and panic, letting the silence stretch until the Mist-nin began to tremble.
Then, without warning, Satoru pulled a small scroll from his cloak and dropped it onto the ground in front of him.
"Your will to live is admirable," he said. "So I'll give you a chance."
He crouched slightly, meeting Juzo's gaze head-on.
"Within three days, use this scroll within one meter of Ao.
If you succeed—you live.
If you fail… well."
He smiled faintly. "You already know the consequences."
Before Juzo could respond, Satoru placed a hand on his shoulder. A faint pulse of chakra flickered—and a mark burned briefly beneath the Mist-nin's skin.
It wasn't a curse seal.
It was something far more precise.
The Flying Thunder God mark.
Satoru straightened, brushing the dust from his gloves.
He didn't need to kill Juzo now.
If the man succeeded, good.
If he failed… Satoru could appear beside him in an instant and take his head himself.
Either way, the pawn would play its role.
And in the distant future, when this man eventually defected and joined that shadowy organization known as Akatsuki…
Well.
A pawn on the board was still a piece in play.
And every piece—no matter how small—had its value.
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