The scroll rolled to a stop before Biwa Juzo's knees.
He glanced at it, then at Hyuga Satoru's hand resting lightly on his shoulder—and in that instant, he realized his fatal mistake.
In any negotiation, the side that cares least about success always wins.
And he… had cared far too much about living.
His desperation had only bought him three days.
"Three days…" he muttered, lowering his head.
"Fine. Three days it is."
He hadn't even noticed what Satoru had done when the boy touched his shoulder.
He felt no foreign chakra, no sting, no burning—but he knew better than to think that contact had been meaningless.
He assumed it must be some kind of advanced sealing curse—an invisible brand powerful enough to bind his life to the boy's whim.
With the strength he'd witnessed, it was entirely possible.
So when he accepted Satoru's terms, he did so without hesitation—
because the last thing he wanted was for this terrifying child to change his mind.
Satoru gave a small, approving nod. "Good. I look forward to seeing what you do, Biwa Juzo."
At that, Hyuga Hizashi stepped forward, understanding his nephew's silent cue.
With a flick of his fingers, the steel wires binding Juzo loosened and fell away.
Freed once more, Juzo didn't move rashly.
He only bent down, picked up the scroll, and tucked it into his vest.
Then, after a final glance at the bodies of his men scattered across the ground, he retrieved his great cleaver—the Executioner's Blade—and slung it over his shoulder.
He didn't speak.
He didn't look back.
He simply turned and leapt away into the forest, vanishing into the misty dawn.
No one stopped him.
The transaction was complete.
Only after his chakra signature had fully disappeared did Hizashi frown slightly.
"Satoru," he said quietly, "did you really mark him with a curse seal? You're just… letting him go?"
His Byakugan had seen no sign of a curse mark on Juzo's vital points.
Satoru shook his head. "No curse seal. Only a Flying Thunder God mark."
Then, straightening, he added, "We'll rest here. If there's no movement in three days, we continue on our own."
Seeing that Satoru already had a plan, Hizashi nodded and said nothing more.
This trip had only deepened his respect for the boy.
He was calm, composed, and decisive—far beyond his years.
For Hizashi, that was a comfort.
The stronger and wiser the heir of the Main Family became, the safer life would be for the Branch House.
Better this than being ruled by some arrogant fool with a god complex and a hand on the Caged Bird Seal.
Hyuga Satoru was different—and that gave Hizashi hope.
Meanwhile, far from the Hyuga camp, Biwa Juzo raced through the night without pause.
He didn't slow until he'd crossed the Land of Fire's border and found a small boat bound for the ruins of the Land of Whirlpools.
Only then, standing on the deck with the sea breeze biting his face, did he allow himself to exhale.
"Damn it…" he hissed.
As the lingering numbness of the Gentle Fist's chakra seal faded, strength returned to his limbs.
He flexed his fingers, feeling his chakra flow once again—and for a moment, relief flickered across his face.
But that relief quickly soured into rage.
He, one of the famed Seven Ninja Swordsmen of the Mist, reduced to a pawn—to a tool under someone else's control.
The humiliation burned.
Still, anger was a luxury.
For now, survival came first.
During his journey back, he'd examined his body inside and out, searching for any trace of foreign chakra—but found nothing.
That, more than anything, terrified him.
If he couldn't even detect the jutsu, how could he hope to remove it?
He didn't know that Satoru hadn't used a curse mark at all, only a teleportation seal invisible to any normal means.
But Juzo wasn't foolish enough to believe the boy had let him go without insurance.
No—he was being watched.
He was certain of it.
And so, the only way forward… was to complete the mission.
Compared to his own life, what was Ao's?
Kirigakure's twisted ideology had long since stripped him of the concept of loyalty.
Obedience, cruelty, sacrifice—those were the lessons of the Bloody Mist.
He had killed comrades before in the name of the mission.
What was one more betrayal?
If anything, this was freedom.
He'd loved his village once—but the same village had scarred and broken him.
The encounter with the Hyuga hadn't changed him; it had merely accelerated what he'd already decided.
Becoming a missing-nin had been inevitable.
This was only the final push.
By the time the sun rose, Juzo had already crossed the sea and set foot on the mist-covered shores of the former Land of Whirlpools.
Slipping through Konoha's outer patrol routes, he infiltrated one of the Mist's forward bases and immediately delivered a false report.
According to him, he and his men had been ambushed by hundreds of Konoha reinforcements inside the Land of Fire.
He alone had barely escaped.
The news spread through the base like wildfire.
If true, it meant Konoha was committing massive resources to the region—enough to threaten the Mist's entire flank.
Within hours, the upper command called for an emergency council.
Officers from every sector were summoned—including, inevitably, Ao, second-in-command of the Mist's intelligence division.
Exactly as Juzo had planned.
During such meetings, security would be at its tightest—but also its most chaotic.
Dozens of jonin moving through the camp, messages flying back and forth—it was the perfect moment for an "accident" to occur.
By the time anyone realized Ao was missing, Juzo would already be gone.
Everything was set.
Now he only had to wait.
Back on the coast, the Hyuga had established camp on a wide, windswept beach.
A small barrier array hummed quietly beside the tents, centered on a spread-open scroll.
In the middle of the seal formation, one character gleamed faintly: "Earth."
Two days passed.
Then, at midday on the third day, the scroll flared with dazzling white light.
The Hyuga guards on watch immediately shouted, "Reaction! The scroll's active!"
The entire camp stirred.
Boom!
A violent explosion echoed inside the barrier, shaking the sand.
When the smoke cleared, two figures lay within the shimmering field.
Both wore the headbands of Kirigakure.
One knelt, coughing blood—Biwa Juzo.
The other stood tense and wary, scanning his surroundings with sharp, ice-blue eyes.
Even before the guards confirmed it, every Hyuga present knew who he was.
The scar, the eyepatch—
The Byakugan Killer.
Ao.
For years, stories of this man had circulated through the clan—the Mist-nin who had slain Hyuga and stolen a Byakugan for himself.
The hatred in their eyes was palpable.
Ao's single visible eye darted from face to face, taking in the countless pale eyes watching him from beyond the barrier.
His gut clenched with dread.
Then he looked down.
At Juzo.
"...You," Ao spat, realization dawning like fire.
"You betrayed me! You sold me out to the Hyuga!"
It didn't take a genius to understand.
Juzo had approached him privately, claiming to have intelligence to share—and when they were alone, he'd opened a scroll.
A blinding light.
A jutsu he'd never seen.
And then—this.
The trap had sprung before Ao could even react.
Now he stood in the heart of enemy territory, surrounded by his deadliest foes.
Juzo wiped the blood from his mouth, forcing a pained grin.
"I did what I promised," he rasped, glancing toward the barrier.
"Your target's right here. Let me go."
Even as he spoke, his gaze flickered nervously toward Ao, wary of a counterattack.
Beyond the barrier, Hyuga Satoru's Byakugan gleamed as he stepped forward through the gathering crowd.
Every Hyuga warrior fell silent, parting to make way.
Satoru stopped just outside the barrier, his expression calm but his voice carrying sharp, quiet satisfaction.
"At last…" he said.
"You didn't disappoint me, Biwa Juzo."
"Well done."
As he spoke, a small aperture opened in the barrier—just enough for one man to slip through.
Juzo didn't hesitate.
He darted for the gap and escaped to the outside, gasping with relief.
Ao moved to follow—
but the barrier's opening snapped shut, trapping him inside once more.
He froze, cursing under his breath, as a dozen Hyuga activated their Byakugan around him.
Every movement, every breath—nowhere to hide.
No way out.
He gritted his teeth, lowering his stance, chakra flaring around him like mist.
If he wanted to live—
he would have to fight.
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