The hidden chamber door creaked open, and a sudden shaft of light pierced the dim, cool room.

  The scent of aged wood hung in the air. What met Hyuga Makoto’s eyes were rows upon rows of neatly arranged wooden boxes lining the shelves.

  Each box was meticulously crafted in the same elegant style, tied with a red cord. Hanging from the other end of each cord was a name tag.

  It was clear this room was rarely visited—dust coated the shelves in a fine yer.

  These were the Byakugan eyes of the Hyuga cn, preserved and passed down through generations.

  Hyuga Hizashi stepped forward slowly, approaching one of the shelves. He scanned the boxes, then selected one and handed it to Makoto after checking the name tag.

  Makoto received it with both hands and gnced at the bel: “Hyuga Shinsuke.”

  “Hyuga Shinsuke distinguished himself in the Second Great Ninja War,” Hizashi expined, voice calm and steady. “His Byakugan pyed a vital role in our victories on the Wind Country front. Unfortunately, he was injured by a puppeteer in battle and poisoned. By the time he was returned to the vilge, the toxin had reached his bones. Not even Lady Tsunade could save him.”

  Makoto opened the box. Inside was a gss container filled with a clear liquid. A sealing tag was affixed to the bottle, and suspended within were a pair of pale, lifeless eyes.

  The sight of them—colorless and empty—gave him a strange chill. The longer he stared, the more uneasy he felt.

  Hizashi handed him another box, and Makoto gently returned the first to its pce.

  This time, the name read “Hyuga Hideya.”

  “Hideya was another outstanding shinobi of our cn,” Hizashi said, his tone almost reverent. “He once served as the Third Hokage’s bodyguard, and fought in countless missions alongside him. But years of battle left him riddled with chronic injuries. He passed away four years ago. The Hokage personally attended his funeral.”

  “These two pairs of eyes are compatible with you,” Hizashi added. “Once the cn finishes negotiations with the hospital, you’ll be notified. Don’t forget to pay your respects at the memorial stone.”

  Makoto nodded. “Understood.”

  “If these two could see how you’ve performed on the front lines,” Hizashi said, “I believe they’d be honored to entrust their Byakugan to you.”

  Makoto replied quietly, “The honor is mine, to inherit the eyes of my predecessors.”

  Hizashi seemed pleased with the response. “Every pair stored here once belonged to a pilr of our cn or vilge. I trust you won’t betray the legacy they’ve left behind.”

  Makoto’s gaze swept the shadowy room. “Will Hizashi-sama’s eyes one day be stored here too?”

  There was a pause. Hizashi answered calmly, “That depends. Whether I die on the battlefield or at home.”

  If a Branch member died in battle, their Byakugan would be destroyed by the Caged Bird Seal. Only those who died at home could have their eyes retrieved.

  The eyes dispyed here had all been removed by the Main House.

  Their stories might sound noble and heroic—but to Makoto, they only seemed tragic.

  These men had given their lives for Konoha, and yet in their final moments, their own cn carved out their eyes and sealed them in boxes that might never see the light of day again. What a bitter irony.

  Beyond the shelves, in the deepest part of the chamber, was a small table. Unlike the others, it held fewer than ten wooden boxes.

  Hizashi followed his gaze. “Those belong to the Main House.”

  No wonder they were set apart, elevated like royalty among the commoners.

  Makoto thought to himself for a moment, then asked, “Hizashi-sama… are the Main House’s eyes any different from ours?”

  Only silence answered him.

  Hizashi did not speak. He was still staring at the boxes on the table.

  Even now, with no one left to own them, the Main House stood above the Branch.

  “In this room,” Hizashi finally said, “eyes removed from their hosts are all the same.”

  What made them different was the Caged Bird Seal. The curse suppressed the power of the Branch members’ Byakugan—a mechanism to ensure the Main House remained in control.

  They stepped out of the chamber. The sudden sunlight outside made Makoto squint.

  He followed beside Hizashi. At the doorway stood another Hyuga cnsman, who greeted Hizashi with a bow.

  Makoto recognized him—an elite jonin of the cn. He hadn’t expected this man to be the caretaker of that secret chamber.

  “If all goes smoothly, the surgery will be in about a week,” Hizashi said as they walked. “You don’t need to overthink things before then.”

  After they left the chamber, Hizashi continued, “If you get lost in your thoughts, your emotions might weigh down those who care about you.”

  It was a subtle reminder, but Makoto understood. “I understand, Hizashi-sama. Thank you for everything today.”

  Hizashi nodded. “It was no trouble. That room is sealed off to outsiders, but we don’t pce the same restrictions on our own.”

  He added, “The intel you brought back from the front lines has been of great value to the vilge. The Hokage personally commended your efforts. Once the surgery is done, Lord Hiashi will escort you to meet him.”

  “I can’t take sole credit for that.”

  “I know. The Hokage knows too. He said, ‘The fallen are heroes, but the ones who survive are even more precious.’ Keep that in mind.”

  “I will.”

  Makoto could appreciate the weight behind those words. The old him would’ve been deeply moved.

  The Third Great Ninja War still raged on. The success of the Kannabi Bridge operation had cut off Iwagakure’s supply lines, halting their pns to advance and giving the exhausted forces of Konoha a brief chance to breathe.

  But only a brief one.

  Konoha was stretched to its limits. The vilge’s forces were scattered, its resources depleted, its finances held together only by state support.

  That’s why every victory mattered. Every defeat was devastating.

  And that was why Namikaze Minato’s reputation now outshone even the Legendary Sannin—he was the hero who saved Konoha again and again, piercing the darkness like a ray of sunlight.

  Konoha needed heroes like that.

  After Hizashi left, Makoto stood still, eyes drifting toward the chamber that had been sealed shut once again.

  Minato might be a hero who could save the vilge—but even heroes couldn’t save themselves.

  Makoto needed a new path.

  One that no one had ever walked before.

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