章 93: 082 - Rolling Stones
Konoha
Hiashi sat in the dim light of the Hyūga compound, his hands trembling, knuckles pale as if drained of all life. The smell of blood and ash still clung to the air from the attack. Konoha had been left in ruins, but what was left of the village mattered nothing to him. The walls, the broken streets, they could be rebuilt. Not his daughter.
Hanabi.
His mind reeled with the weight of her absence. Stolen away in the chaos, ripped from the heart of his clan. Orochimaru and that wretched Uchiha boy, they had taken her. And what had he done? What had any of them done? It could have well been nothing. Nothing but watch the smoke rise.
In the distance, the wind howled through the battered village, whispering with a mockery of life. A father's failure, a failure not of strength but of foresight, echoed louder than any gust of wind. He had sworn to protect his daughters, to safeguard the future of the Hyūga. But what good was a promise one doesn't keep?
Footsteps approached, soft, tentative. He didn't need the Byakugan to know who it was.
Hinata.
"Father…" her voice was quiet, like a fading breeze, unsure of how to move through the storm in his chest.
He didn't look at her. Couldn't. His fists tightened further, nails digging into his palm, and he felt the heat rise in his face, the fury he could no longer control. Why was she still here? The wrong daughter, the one who hesitated, the one who faltered in every test of strength, in every confrontation. Kami, why had they taken Hanabi instead?
"Please, father… I—"
"Silence," he growled, his voice low and venomous, the words biting harder than he'd intended. He turned then, eyes hard as stone, colder than he ever thought he could be with his own child. "You think you can comfort me? You?"
Hinata's lip trembled, but she stood her ground, trying to steady her breath, her heart. "I… I just wanted—"
"You wanted?" He cut her off, rising to his feet, towering over her. "What could you want that matters? Your sister is gone, and you—" His fists clenched, trembling with restraint. "Useless. Useless!" The word escaped him like a poisoned arrow, sharp and meant to wound. "You stood there like a frightened child while they took her! You've always been weak, Hinata. Always. And now I've lost the one daughter who had any worth."
Her eyes widened, tears welling but not yet falling. She didn't flinch, didn't look away. And that only made his anger grow.
"You curse me with your presence," he snarled. "If the gods had any sense, they'd have taken you instead."
The words hung in the air, suffocating, oppressive.
Hinata's knees gave way then, her body sinking to the floor, silent tears slipping down her cheeks. She said nothing. She had no defence.
Hiashi turned his back to her, the taste of bitterness filling his mouth, the weight of his words pressing down on him. Yet, in his anger, he could not pull them back. He walked away, his thoughts a storm, cursing the heavens, cursing the enemies that had stolen his child, but most of all, cursing himself.
***
Neji stood in the shadow of the outer courtyard, his Byakugan active, its gaze piercing through the walls of the Hyūga compound as easily as his contempt pierced his heart. He watched the scene unfold in the main hall—Hiashi, his uncle, hurling his venomous words at Hinata, the trembling daughter who'd never known how to fight back. It was all too predictable. The clan head, unable to manage his own emotions, lashed out at the one person least able to withstand it.
Hiashi was broken by Hanabi's abduction, undone by his failure to protect his prized daughter. And yet… where was his strength when it mattered? Neji seethed as he watched his uncle, a man so quick to preach duty and control, unravel like a fool.
He caressed the base of his throat, fingers tracing the scar that still throbbed faintly, a mark left by that wretched Uchiha. The memory of that farce played over in his mind. He had fought as well as he could, given everything, but it hadn't mattered. Sasuke had been faster, sharper, more relentless, as if the fight itself was beneath him. Neji had been lucky to survive, but the blow had nearly silenced him forever. He hated that. Hated the reminder of his inferiority.
He watched Hinata now, kneeling in tears, her will crushed beneath the weight of her father's words. It was infuriating, how she always faltered, always hesitated. She was the heir, the one destined to lead their clan, to carry on its legacy. Yet she was too soft, too fragile. The gods had given her everything—a position of power, a name, a forehead free of a curse—and what had she done with it? Nothing. If anyone should have been taken, it was her, not Hanabi. Neji felt no sympathy for her. How could he, when her weakness was a constant reminder of the injustice that had defined his life?
He clenched his fists. The weight of it all bore down on him, the twisted hierarchy of the Hyūga clan that had bound him in servitude from the moment of his birth. He, a genius, a prodigy of the Byakugan, shackled to the whims of a weakling heiress and her broken father. Every day he saw his reflection was a reminder of the chains he could never break, the fate he could never escape. He had no freedom. No power to forge his own destiny. Not like that wretched Uchiha.
Wretched thing.
Neji's hand lingered on his throat, the memory of that searing pain, the flash of the Uchiha's eyes as he cut him down. Sasuke had left the village, walked away from everything, pursuing his own power, his own freedom. He had chosen his own path, untethered, unchained. Why couldn't I do the same?
Why am I still here, bowing to this pathetic family?
Neji's gaze shifted back to Hinata, her silent tears glistening under the dim light. He loathed her. He loathed Hiashi. And most of all, he loathed the fact that despite everything, despite all his supposed talent, he could do nothing to change it.
The world was cruel, and it seemed the kami delighted in watching him suffer.
***
The wind scraped across the barren wasteland where what was left of the Akatsuki met. Dust swirled in the dying light, sifting through the abandoned rocks as though the land itself had been waiting for them. In the hollow of a forgotten ruin, they gathered like shadows, the remnants of a dream long soured by blood and necessity. A world that had rotted from the inside out, and they—the few—set upon the task of bringing a kind of peace no one could ever want but all would be bound to accept.
Nagato sat above them, legs crossed, Rinnegan cold and unreadable. He was no longer a man so much as a lesser god whose mortal flesh was sagging under the weight of the world. The others gathered beneath him, under the great sway of his shadow. They had come because they had to, but there was no love in it.
Konan stood near the side, her gaze distant, as if the wind carried something only she could hear, something old. She spoke rarely now, her words taken by time and failure. Still, she was here. Her loyalty was no longer a matter of will, only fact. In this graveyard of ideals, she waited, patient as death.
Across from her, Deidara slouched, half-mad. Anger. He didn't take failure well. Sasori sat beside him, lifeless puppet limbs folded neatly like the carcass of an insect. Cold, mechanical. A man who had traded his humanity for permanence but found neither.
Nagato's voice broke the silence, low and grinding like the earth moving beneath their feet.
"The boy has the Shukaku."
A pause settled over them. A weight. In the distance, thunder rolled, though no rain came.
"His war means nothing to him. He takes what he wants, and the world suffers for it. But it is the Shukaku he holds that binds us now. Without it, we cannot begin. Without it, the Eye of the Moon Plan is stillborn. The Gedo's will remains unyielding; the tails must be provided in the proper order."
The words hung, stark as tombstones. Sasuke Uchiha had grown beyond their reach, a boy who had surpassed their expectations and turned into something more dangerous than any of them had foreseen. Greater than his brother, he was. Greater than his father before him; Madara reborn. Now he held a piece of their future in his hands, and with it, he dragged the world into chaos.
Hidan, leaning against a crumbling pillar, sneered. "That brat's nothing but a walking sin. Jashin will see to it that I have his blood sooner or later."
Kakuzu, standing next to him, glanced over, his dead eyes flickering with disinterest. "The one-tail is not negotiable. Without it, we cannot proceed. We have to kill him. Somehow. We have no other choice."
But Nagato shook his head slowly. "Not yet. We tried. He's strong. Cunning. The war he has started only serves to complicate everything; in this time of strife do the villages truly appreciate the value of their Jinchūriki. Worse still, he draws attention to himself. To us. The Kages are wary; protective of their tails. If he's allowed to continue, it will tear the world apart before we can achieve our purpose.
"Then what do you propose, Nagato?" Sasori's voice cut in. Harsh. Grating.
There was silence. For a long moment, nothing moved. Not even the wind. Nagato's eyes, heavy and dark, turned slowly over the faces gathered before him. He knew what had to be done. They all did. But to speak it aloud was to give weight to something none of them had yet to fully acknowledge. The Akatsuki as it was had failed. Their ranks were shattered, their strength diminished.
"We rebuild," he said finally. "We recruit. Kisame is dead. Orochimaru betrayed us long ago. So did Itachi. Obito cannot be trusted. Our numbers are too few to succeed as we are."
Nagato's gaze fixed on the Shinobi arrayed before him, unblinking. "We will find them; those who understand what it means to sacrifice everything for the sake of peace. We offer them something no one else can. Then, when we're strong enough, we eliminate Sasuke Uchiha. Once and for all."
The finality of the statement lingered in the air, like the scent of death carried on the wind. None of them spoke. The path ahead was clear, but it was dark, and they all knew it. Sasuke was a problem that needed to be dealt with. But more than that, he was a symptom of a greater sickness. The world was spinning out of control.
The meeting was over. The wind picked up once more, and as they dispersed into the twilight. The one-tail would be theirs. Sasuke Uchiha would fall. And the Eye of the Moon would rise, whether the world was ready for it or not.
Whether it wanted it or not.
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