Hiruzen Sarutobi had seen many long days—but lately, they all felt the same. Paperwork towered, each document another brick in the wall closing around him.
Still, he had endured worse. This wasn't fatigue of the body. It was something quieter, slower. A kind of erosion.
He'd just signed off on another increased allowance for Naruto Uzumaki.
Again.
The funds were supposed to stretch the month, funneled discreetly through a loyal chunin with ties to the orphanage. But somehow, the boy burned through them before the ink on the transfer dried.
It gnawed at him—not just the money. Everything about Naruto gnawed at him. Hiruzen had fast-tracked the boy into early education, hoping structure would give him a foothold. A future. Even if he failed a year or two, it didn't matter. What mattered was momentum.
That was what Hiruzen wanted—for Naruto to keep moving forward.
But then... there was the other child.
Akai Hyūga.
Hiruzen had initially approved Genzō Hyūga's request out of courtesy. Normally, he avoided clan politics where he could. But there had been something strange in Genzō's tone—urgent, veiled, and heavy.
When Hiruzen looked up the child's record, it all clicked into place.
Of course. Them.
An Uchiha and a Hyūga, whose union had been erased from the books like a sin. He could still see their faces, if only in fragments—two ghosts whispering through time. But the image that cut through the haze was crystal clear: the child they left behind.
Akai.
That look he'd given Hiruzen at their first meeting—it hadn't been fear or awe. It had been... unreadable. And unforgettable.
At first, Hiruzen had felt a rare warmth, seeing Naruto bond with someone. Friendship had always eluded the boy. But as days passed, that warmth soured into unease. Everything about Akai set his instincts whispering.
Genzou asked if he could check the seal on Naruto himself.
Obviously that's against protocol. So, Hiruzen inspected the seal on Naruto himself.
But he didn't find any suspicious things that Genzou spoke of.
Only progress.
Naruto had demonstrated wall-walking during their last meeting. With glee. Effortless. Unnatural.
And Akai had been teaching him.
That was when Hiruzen's hand had frozen over the latest report.
But its contents...
A presumed new kekkei genkai.
Barely more than a toddler, Akai had shown abilities no Hyūga had ever documented—and not quite Uchiha either. Chakra readings were vague, eyewitness accounts fragmented, but the conclusion was clear:
Something new had taken root in that boy.
Something powerful.
Something unnatural.
Hiruzen's eyes narrowed as he reread the line:
"Subject displays mismatched ocular traits—non-Hyūga phenotype observed in right eye. Resembles deviation from Sharingan."
Old memories stirred. Unpleasant ones.
This was no longer clan business. This was village security. He briefed the Elder Council immediately. Even Danzō. Especially Danzō.
Though Danzō had already acted.
Of course he had.
He'd visited Genzō unsanctioned.
Hiruzen didn't need the full report to read between the lines. The tone of those follow-ups, the sterile language, the lack of detail—it all screamed one thing: damage control.
Now, in the hospital, standing over Genzō's bruised and broken form, Hiruzen saw the signs for what they were.
The boy's power was growing.
And it was out of control.
The room was crowded with Hyūga elders, tense and silent, like priests witnessing a desecrated altar.
Then Danzō entered.
Quiet. Measured. Eyes like wet stone.
He didn't even glance at Genzō. His gaze swept past the elder as if dismissing a broken weapon.
And in that moment, Hiruzen understood.
Akai wasn't a curiosity to Danzō.
He was an asset.
A weapon in the making.
Just like before.
Like the child with Wood Release. The one twisted into something unrecognizable beneath ROOT's shadow. Hiruzen had nearly lost his life cleaning up that mistake.
He wouldn't let history repeat itself.
"Danzō," Hiruzen said, voice calm, tone cordial. "How good of you to join us."
No reply.
Just that cold, calculating stare.
Hiruzen's voice lightened—deceptively so.
"It seems we're witnessing the birth of a new bloodline. Fascinating, isn't it?"
A subtle jab. Danzō caught it, of course.
He followed Hiruzen's gaze to Genzō, then to Takahiro—silent in the corner, eyes sharp as ever. He broke the tension with a single sentence, delivered like a blade:
"If I may ask... what is Elder Danzō here for?"
The air thinned. Everyone heard the unsaid accusation.
Takahiro remembered.
He remembered everything.
The quiet sabotage. The way two promising ninja were cast out as traitors. And now, their son stood in the eye of another storm—and Danzō had already moved to claim him.
Danzō responded slowly, words carefully spaced. "I came to nurture the boy. A new bloodline carries risks, as you can see. He nearly killed one of your own."
His lone eye shifted to Takahiro.
A silent challenge.
"But... it seems I'm unwelcome here."
Takahiro's silence was volcanic.
Danzō understood.
So did Hiruzen.
He folded his hands behind his back and took a step forward. "If you stay around him, Danzō... he'll take your other arm too."
A pause.
"No—worse. He might extinguish what little spark of the Will of Fire still lives in him."
No names were spoken.
None needed.
Akai was the fire—and the fuel.
"He's not yours," Hiruzen murmured. "He won't grow in the dark."
Danzō held his gaze for a long moment. Then, without a word, he turned and left.
His absence was like a window opening.
But the storm had only just begun.
Hiashi Hyūga entered with precision. His presence quieted the room. In clipped, icy words, he stripped Genzō of his authority.
No debate. No delay.
The elder's legacy crumbled in silence.
.
.
.
And then—Akai spoke.
"Give me a surgery," he said.
Silence fell.
Hiashi frowned. "Surgery?"
The boy's voice didn't waver. "For the eye. You can take it back. My Byakugan."
Stunned silence rippled outward.
Hiashi froze.
Genzō blinked.
Even Hiruzen—hardened by war and compromise—felt something cold trail down his spine.
"You... don't have to—" Hiashi began.
"No, I do." Akai cut in.
"...If it's because now you hated your clan, then—"
"I don't hate the clan,"
His voice wasn't sharp. Just... hollow.
"I don't care," Akai said quietly. "About the clan. About the eye. About anything. Just leave me alone."
The silence that followed wasn't stunned anymore.
"Why can't any of you understand that?"
It was mournful.
Heavy.
A soundless admission that something precious had already been lost.
Then, slowly, Akai raised his hand.
Upward.
Toward his face.
Toward his Byakugan.
Realization hit the room like thunder. Every pair of eyes locked on him, widening in unison as the truth settled in.
He was going to rip it out himself.
"Akai—!"
But Takahiro moved first.
With a shout, he surged forward, seizing the boy's wrist with one hand, gripping it tight. "What the hell do you think you're doing?!"
Akai didn't answer. He didn't need to.
His face said everything. His teeth clenched, his jaw trembling, and in his eyes—not fear, not pain. But fury. At himself. At them. At everything.
And Takahiro saw it.
He saw it—and something inside him broke.
He had almost handed this boy over to the Uchiha.
He had thought—it's safer there. He'll survive there. He'll be away from all this rot.
But he hadn't realized.
Hadn't realized what it meant, what it would do to him—to treat him like something to be passed around, like a broken blade no one wanted to sharpen.
He thought he was protecting Akai.
But all he'd done was abandon him.
And now, in that trembling wrist, in that burning stare, Takahiro felt the full weight of his mistake. The moment he had said it—
That word.
Defect.
He saw it now, carved into the boy's heart like a curse mark.
The guilt struck late.
But it struck deep.
.
.
.
In the end... they never did find out what that Kekkei Genkai was.
Hiruzen stood there, back resting lightly against the cold hallway wall, thoughts spinning with quiet gravity.
He had once envisioned something brighter—simpler. A clean resolution after the misunderstanding surrounding the Nine-Tails' chakra. He would have asked gently about Akai afterward.
Given him space, given him recognition. Preserved whatever bloodline lay hidden in that boy, unknown but shining. Maybe Akai would even rise to form a new clan one day—a branch of peace built from the mingling of Hyūga and Uchiha blood, guided under the flame of the Will of Fire.
It was a perfect vision.
But reality was never kind to visions.
Now here he stood, fingers turning the rusted key of an old apartment door.
The highest floor of an orphanage-sponsored complex. One of the better places in the village, a little tucked away from the crowds and noise. Hiruzen had helped fund the building years ago—partly for appearances, partly for children like this.
The door creaked open.
Light spilled into the small apartment, its bare wooden floor gleaming faintly beneath the first glow of dawn.
Akai walked in first. Silent. The red and white of his pupil-less eyes scanned the room, then drifted past the window. The sun was climbing now—an orange line over Konoha's rooftops, painting everything in gold.
Hiruzen stayed by the doorway, eyes lingering on the boy's back.
He wasn't admiring the view. Not really.
He was simply relieved.
Relieved that—for now—the storm had passed.
No elders. No shouting. No blood on the floor. No more talk of surgeries, of clan duties, of tools and defects.
Just one boy and one room.
Hiruzen finally stepped in, his sandals soft against the floorboards. "This room is yours now," he said, gently.
Akai didn't respond. He didn't need to.
Hiashi had been the one to ask—strangely, unexpectedly. He had said it wouldn't be good to bring the boy back to the compound. Not today. Not after what happened.
So Hiruzen had come. Himself.
To offer a neutral space. A moment of peace.
He approached the boy slowly, voice measured, kind.
"I'll be assigning this room to you," he said. "You'll be alone here. We won't trouble you."
His hand hovered at his side—never extended. He had long since learned that boys like this didn't reach back.
"Is that alright, Akai?"
The boy didn't answer immediately.
But he didn't leave.
And for now, that was answer enough.
...
Hiruzen slowly turned back. He left. And then...
Akai, for the first time in a long while, smiled.
I got my own apartment room from just that? he thought, practically skipping down the corridor. Maybe I should've tried to rip my eyes out sooner.
The humanoid curse spirit was finally gone, and with it, so was the suffocating pressure he'd been keeping bottled up. He stretched his arms behind his head, grinning to himself.
"Old bastard Genzou gets all the perks just because he's ancient," Akai muttered under his breath. "Doesn't even do anything except stand around looking important."
Of course, he hadn't actually been about to pull his eye out like the elders thought. That had been a complete misunderstanding.
He was just scratching a spot near his eye — it itched from how often he had to keep a straight face. Pretending not to see the curse spirit hanging around had taken way more effort than he liked to admit.
The byakugan surgery talk, was just to escalate it further by showing how he escalated it further
"Well, sometimes misunderstands can be good too" he sighed, amused.
Smirking, Akai lazily dangle his hands to his sides and strolled toward his new room, already scheming what he could get away with next.
.
.
.
Kishimoto-sensei, what would happen if a Hyuga and an Uchiha had a child?
Morning came far too loudly.
Chirping birds—dozens of them—sang with all the joy in the world just outside his window. Akai lay on his back, eyes open, unmoving, staring up at the cracked ceiling.
He hated mornings.
Not because they woke him up.
Because he couldn't sleep.
The bed was too soft. His body was too used to firm tatami mats and the slight ache of a futon that had seen better years. The blanket was warm enough, but the quiet was alien. He'd managed to doze off eventually, but only for about an hour. Just enough to be annoyed by it.
He didn't feel tired, exactly. But his thoughts hadn't stopped moving either.
Why?
He pushed himself up, his bloodstained kimono rumpling awkwardly around his shoulders. He hadn't changed clothes since yesterday—not that there was anything else to change into. The apartment was empty. No furniture, no supplies, not even a towel. Just dust and silence.
But the water worked.
That was something.
He shuffled to the bathroom, bare feet tapping against the wood. The mirror above the sink was fogged with grime and dust—an old, neglected thing clinging to its wall like it still had purpose. Akai wiped it clean with the sleeve of his kimono.
His reflection blinked back at him, half-lidded and pale. The dark rings under his eyes looked more like bruises today.
"Again with that dream," he muttered.
It hadn't faded.
Most dreams scattered like birds when morning came. This one lingered. Crisp. Sharp. Unsettling.
Men in suits. Interviewing each other. Talking like they knew everything. Their voices—he could remember the words.
They'd have a Sharingan in one eye and a Byakugan in the other.
What was that supposed to mean?
Why would he dream that? And why couldn't he forget it?
Akai stared into his reflection a while longer, then leaned forward and tapped the mirror once with a knuckle.
His expression didn't change. The mirror stayed whole.
He exhaled and pushed away from the sink. The dream haunted him like a memory that didn't belong to him. One he couldn't ignore, no matter how much he tried.
Still, today was a new day. Or at least, a quieter one.
He scratched his head absently, the itch near his eye returning. Maybe it was all the chakra strain from yesterday. Or maybe it was just stress. Either way, he needed to find clothes, or a toothbrush, or—something.
He glanced at the window.
The village outside moved on, oblivious.
But Akai?
He was still here.
Still thinking.
Still scheming.
And still very much awake.
Akai grabbed the rusted key off the floor, flipping it between his fingers once before slipping it into his pocket. The wallet, still the same worn thing Genzō had given him long ago, joined it. He stepped out of the apartment, shutting the door with a soft click—then paused.
Clack!
A nearby door, two units down the hallway, swung shut in a rush. Akai's ears twitched. He didn't need the Byakugan to know who it was.
Blond hair. A tiny frame. A goofy little bag flopping behind him and a smile that barely fit his face.
"...Naruto?"
The boy stopped in his tracks, one foot still in midair. He turned with surprise, blinking once before lighting up.
"Akai?"
They stared at each other for a beat. Then Naruto jogged over with an almost cartoonish energy, bag bouncing on his back like a second head.
"You live here too?" he asked, grinning.
"I am."
"Since when?"
Akai blinked. "Since yesterday."
"No way!" He seem exited.
"Top floor's the best. You can see the whole village from the roof. And the laundry lady sometimes gives me dango if I don't break stuff."
Akai stared. The energy this kid had... this early in the morning... it was criminal.
Naruto leaned in, squinting. "Did you not sleep? You look like a zombie ya know?"
"Did you?"
"Of course! I sleep like a rock. I even had a dream I turned into the Fourth Hokage. He was super cool."
Akai shook his head slightly, rubbing under one eye. "I had a weird dream too."
"Oh yeah? What was it about?"
"...Just some old guys talking about weird things. I didn't like it."
Naruto made a face. "Boring. My dreams have explosions ya know!"
Akai let out a dry huff. Not quite a laugh. But not quite silence, either.
Naruto either didn't notice Akai's silence—or he noticed and simply didn't care.
He spun to face him completely, practically vibrating with excitement. His grin was so wide it looked like his face might split in half.
"I didn't think we'd be neighbors, ya know—this is so cool!" he blurted out, words spilling over each other in a rush. "I moved in, like, five months ago! There's another kid my age on this floor, but we never really talked. And then you show up!"
He bounced along beside Akai, the strap of his small school bag jingling with every step. Today, he wore a T-shirt with a faded flame symbol and a pair of shorts, both a little too big on him.
But what caught Akai's attention wasn't the clothes.
Goggles.
New.
He hadn't worn them yesterday.
He must really like them, Akai thought, watching Naruto fidget excitedly.
Naruto noticed him staring and lit up even more. "Hey, check these out!" he said, tapping the goggles. "Cool, right? Iruka-sensei says they don't do anything for learning, but I think they make me look like a real ninja!"
Akai tilted his head slightly, unimpressed. "They look heavy."
"They are!" Naruto declared proudly, puffing his chest out. "But that's how you know they're tough!"
Naruto kept chatting as they headed down the corridor toward the stairs, bouncing with every step. Akai walked calmly beside him, hands hidden in his sleeves.
"Man, you're the first real friend I've had here!" Naruto said brightly. "The other kid's kinda boring—he never wanted to hang out or anything. But you—you're quiet, but weird. Cool weird! I bet you're smart too. Or maybe secretly dangerous. Or both! Wait—are you good at throwing stuff? Like shuriken?!"
Akai said nothing, his face unreadable.
Naruto, undeterred, dropped his voice like he was sharing some high-level secret. "I'm still practicing. Teacher says I gotta stop throwing them at the wall during nap time. Not my fault the wall's right there."
As Naruto rambled, Akai glanced down at his shoes. Clean. The kind of clean that only new shoes had. His bag too—new and stiff-looking.
"You're going to school?" Akai asked at last, voice quiet and steady.
"Huh?" Naruto blinked at him, puzzled.
Akai flicked his gaze toward the backpack and goggles. "You're dressed like it."
Naruto froze mid-bounce. His face went blank for a second—then horror dawned across it.
"Oh no—OH NO!" he shrieked, clutching his bag straps like a lifeline. "I forgot!"
He spun so fast the goggles nearly flew off his head.
"I'll be back at twelve, I swear! Wait for me at the riverbanks, okay?! The usual place!"
Without waiting for an answer, he tore down the stairs like a yellow blur, still yelling at the top of his lungs.
"I'll tell you more about school later!! After nap time!!"
Akai stood alone in the now-quiet hallway, the echoes of Naruto's voice still bouncing off the walls. The kid was... chaos incarnate. But also sincere.
Twelve, huh... he thought, glancing at the window and the slanted sunlight spilling in. Kindergarten schedules. Probably ends around eleven.
With a soft sigh, Akai tucked his keys and wallet into his sleeve and stepped fully into the morning. The smell of dew clung to the air, mingling with the distant chatter of the village waking up.
He didn't say it aloud, but somewhere, deep down...
...he was already planning to wait.
But then, came another sound. The soft metallic click of a doorknob turning.
Akai instinctively turned toward the source.
Naruto's voice still echoed faintly in the stairwell, but this one was closer—much closer. The apartment room between Akai and Naruto's had been silent this whole time... until now.
Akai had originally thought to warn Naruto to keep his volume down. They might've disturbed the other tenant, after all.
Too late for that.
The door creaked open, and out stepped—
A girl?
She looked about his age. Pale lavender eyes met his, wide and blinking. Her hair was light blonde, soft like flax, trailing long past her waist and tied neatly at the ends with a small white bow. Her skin was fair, even by Hyuga standards, and she wore a sleeping yukata—a pale yellow one, clean, unlike his.
No bloodstains. No torn edges.
Just a kid who had stepped out into the morning and didn't expect this.
She started to speak, her tone stern and automatic at first. "Naruto, you're too lou—"
But she stopped.
Her eyes narrowed. Focused.
Akai caught the way she scanned him: red eyes. White hair. And maybe... the faint edge of his canines as he blinked slowly at her confusion.
"You... red... white... and, fangs..."
He raised an eyebrow.
What?
Then suddenly—
"FUCK!"
The door slammed shut with a BANG.
The hallway fell silent again. Even the birds outside paused their chirping, as if mildly disturbed.
Akai stared blankly at the now-closed door.
He was going to apologize. Really, he was. On Naruto's behalf, maybe even his own. But that... was not a conversation starter he could've predicted.
Red, white, and... fangs?
He blinked again.
"...?????????????????"
.
.
.
To be continued.