Desolation of the Caged Bird Chapter 43 - Seeds of Cultivation

A Mortal behaves in mortal ways, but an Immortal behaves in Immortal ways. 

Within the Clan Head Training Cave, freshly emerged from seclusion, Zi Wuji channeled a burst of water-natured chakra to create a ball of water that drenched his form and doused him from head to toe. With a simultaneous release of chakra from all his tenketsu, the water droplets flew off him, as did the remnants of the blood, the gunk, and the dirt. Clean, with a wave of his hand, another orb of water emerged, which formed into a smooth, clear mirror that he used to gaze upon his newfound body.

“As expected, the effects of the Origin Blood Pool are indeed extraordinary!”

He stood at a staggering six-and-a-half feet tall, amongst one of the tallest people in the village, and his body, despite having only been fed sustenance on pills and rations for a decade, was lean and rippling with muscle. With an eight-pack on his abdomen that appeared sharp enough to cut diamonds, his biceps, triceps, and obliques were even sharper, giving him a swimmer-like physique, pushed to the absolute pinnacle of the human condition. His Yang Rod, even flaccid as it was, hung long between his legs as though it were that of a stallion, and his buttocks, too, were as solid as diamonds. 

Upon his head were long, thin, jutted horns, which curved outward and upward; his skin was the white of chalk and agate, his brows were sharp like finely crafted swords, his nose, his chin, and jaw well-defined and rugged. In the center of his forehead, there was a third eye which contained rippling, concentric circles, as well as several tomoe spread out around those circles.

Slowly, his eyes opened, revealing an unrivaled, indomitable, and domineering might.

His right eye was pale and white and possessed within it the faint image of an overlapping Tai Chi symbol within the pupil, the very same symbol that appeared once one performed the Eight Trigrams Sixty Four Palms technique. His left eye was sharp and blue, filled with what resembled overlapping white flower patterns, rotating slowly counterclockwise. Both eyes pulsated with power that could not be contained, as though they were the heartbeats of a giant threatening to compress all of heaven and earth.

With a wave of his hand, his chakra was shaped into fine, thin, smooth, silk-like threads, which then formed into an elegant, long white Daoist robe that draped over his shoulders and over his body. With another wave, a sash perfectly wrapped around his waist, and the robes were made perfectly fit to his body, giving him the feeling of an aloof, unconcerned scholar, one who had traveled to distant lands, had untold experiences, and had been displeased with all the pleasures of the world.

“I, Zi Wuji, have returned.”

Taking in a deep breath, Nature Energy filled his lungs with his inhale, creating gentle black and white markings over his eyes, and making the Tai Chi symbol in his right eye clearer. As he exhaled, the energy exited his body as the symbol became fainter.

“With a mere breath, I inhale natural energy, and attain the qualifications of a Sage, to use Senjutsu… naturally absorbing the energy from the air… if it were Qi, such a physique alone would be enough to cultivate ten, no, twenty times faster than others…”

Zi Wuji let out a soft breath. As he did, he lifted his right index finger, molding Earth Natured chakra without so much as a thought, until the ground at his feet formed into a throne. With another lift of his finger, the stone throne was altered from stone to fine jade. He sat quietly, leaning back and placing his hands on the armrest, as he began to digest the core changes that had come from his breakthrough.

Images danced through his mind as though he were receiving information directly from a jade slip, as though watching a recording play uninterrupted, and his third eye, the tomoe within, spun rapidly as a decade of memories, events, battles, insights, and comprehensions flowed like water.

“Indeed, the lives of mortals are too fleeting. A mere ten years, but the blink of an eye, and already, so much has changed. The world waged war… Hideyoshi died, Namikaze died, I have adopted three disciples…  and… hm?”

Within his mind, one image froze completely, an image of an encounter with a man wielding a shakujō. 

“What is this nonsense? Who is this junior?”

He froze the image, that of his clone, accepting an impartation of chakra, and found, within, a newfound set of memories much longer than the mere ten years anticipated. Immediately, his left eye pulsated, and those memories were covered in a myriad of seals and chains, heavily quarantined. Then, as he did so, he scanned the surface for the contents and clicked his tongue.

“Hagoromo… Ōtsutsuki… Past life? So it is a karmic connection of a past life that brought me to this world… and…”

As Zi Wuji continued to analyze the contents, his eyes narrowed sharply, and he let out a scoff.

“What is past is past, and what is gone is gone. Whatever regrets that were held in that life ended with death, and yet you dared?”

Zi Wuji’s right hand extended into the air. He tore through the space in front of him, creating a pitch black hole. Without a word, he rose from his jade throne and stepped through it. A moment later, he appeared standing on a platform of water, with an old man wielding a shakujō sitting there, and blinking in surprise.

Then, the surprise turned to confusion, the confusion to disbelief. He gazed at Zi Wuji’s form, at his body, at the third eye in the center of his forehead, and no words were able to escape his lips, but one, and one only:

“How?”

Zi Wuji clasped his hands behind his back. 

“Imparting chakra into my shadow clone… did you think I did not see through such tricks? Were you hoping the memories would control that clone, and your brother would be reborn? Were you hoping the clone would seek to supplant me?”

Zi Wuji walked forward, the water beneath his feet creating Tai Chi ripples with every step.

“You miscalculated. Even if it is a mere clone, it is still me. As I would never fathom such ambitions, never cut off my way on the Immortal Path, it would not dare. Yet, you dared?”

“You misunderstand me. My intent was never—”

“No, I see clearly. I have never seen more clearly,” Zi Wuji scoffed. “A mere ghost, unable to complete his own dreams, his sons failing, his sons’ sons failing, his descendants failing, his legacy forgotten, his ultimate fate to traverse endlessly through time watching the fruits of his failure. A person such as you dares to pass on his desires to me?”

“Hamura—”

“I AM ZI WUJI!”

The space shook. The force of his voice sent ripples and waves traveling through the water, and made the clothes of the man flap backward, and his shakujo rattle. The space around them began to crack. Large, clear, potent, white cracks appeared in the space all around them, as though reality itself was on the verge of crumbling.

Hagoromo looked at the cracks, his eyes going wider and wider. Then, the cracks shattered, and both men stood no longer in a mindspace, but in the physical world, in space itself, above the planet, far, far above it, where no eyes could reach, no gazes could glimpse.

Hagoromo sucked in a slow, unsteady breath as he rose to his feet.

“Born an orphan. Raised an orphan. Begging upon the streets for alms, kicked aside, spat upon, scrounging for bread, and counting grains of rice. Chased for thievery and descending depths, finding a mentor and embarking upon the heavenly path, thus vowing to reach its pinnacle—”

Zi Wuji took a deep, slow breath

“I am Zi Wuji.”

“I see,” Hagoromo closed his eyes. “...That is your answer.”

“I tasked my clone to live as a mortal, hence it indulged such mortal sentiments… but what is past is past, and what is gone is gone.”

“You are offended.”

“Offended?” Zi Wuji mused. “Bullying the weak, yet fearing the strong, taking action without permission when the one before you lacks strength, yet when they attain strength, seeking to extend an olive branch. Are you truly asking if I am offended?”

“You must understand. This world needs a savior—”

“You have three eyes but do not see Mt. Tai!”

Zi Wuji’s right hand snapped out. 

“You need to learn.”

The third eye in the center of his head pulsated. His lone blue eye pulsated. Hagoromo Ōtsutsuki’s soul and remnant chakra surged towards him, moving at a speed that defied understanding. The man attempted to resist. Attempted, being the keyword, yet such attempts ended in futility. A moment later, a pure, pristine soul in the shape of a ball hovered in Zi Wuji’s hand. Within it, Hagoromo’s face appeared, contorted in disbelief.

“How?”

“Do you take me for the sort of fool who would explain my methods and techniques to an enemy?”

“I am not your enemy. What we desire is the same—”

“I have no desire to control this world.”

“You are mistaken! I sought to bring peace to this world!”

“And how is that not seeking to control it?”

Hagoromo’s face contorted. “It… is not—”

“One who declares the world must know peace, because I want it to be so, is no different than one who says, the world must know war, because I want it to be so,” Zi Wuji scoffed. “They are both worldly tyrants, merely that they differ on the purpose of their tyranny.”

Hagoromo’s soul trembled in his palm. “I-I am… I have never—”

“No? You labored under the assumption that this world must conform to your personal vision of what should be,” Zi Wuji scolded. “How are you not a worldly tyrant, seeking all to be according to his desire?”

“No — that is— I sought to—”

“Had you not sought so desperately to bring peace, had you not passed down ninshū, not given teachings which even a fool could tell would be perverted with time, not created the Tailed Beasts which even a fool could tell would be used as weapons, not driven a wedge between your sons by selecting a successor based on who would carry out that mad dream, which even a fool could tell would leave the other one scorned… would such violent wars have been fought across the ages?”

The longer Zi Wuji looked at the man's soul that had fallen quiet, the lower the opinion he had of him, and the more his dislike of him grew, and the more he began to feel distaste for the man's short-sightedness.

“Were countless wars not fought over mere worldly trifles? With a wave of the hand, you could have ensured the end of the material cause of wars! Ended hunger, ended starvation, ended the need to compete for resources, as you make them abundant in all of heaven and earth, such that even greed for them would be considered stupidity! Creating Tailed Beasts is an act that would have taken more effort than imbuing the earth with endless prosperity, and imbuing rivers with endless vigor!”

Zi Wuji sneered in his heart. You, like Uzumaki Mito, like Senju Hashirama, have lived a life worshipped, adored, and revered; thus that there has been none who has ever challenged your ideas, and none with the power to correct you. Lacking rivals, lacking opponents, having nothing but followers and hanger-ons, worshipped as a god, how, indeed, could you see your own faults? For who would dare tell you to your face, you are wrong?

His presence was so barely felt, that in a mere thousand years, his legacy and deeds had become forgotten and twisted, such that he was considered a myth, and this was entirely the man's fault. After all, what was easier to remember, a man who went about teaching about peace and co-operation, or a man who provided tangible benefits wherever he went?

Benefits! In the end, it was about benefits!

What business did a starving man have with the buffoon telling him to love his neighbor? He would nod his head because said buffoon was powerful, and he dared not speak his mind, but as soon as said buffoon granted him power, and told him to use such things to 'spread kindness' he would only be grateful to the heavens for delivering such a fool upon his doorstep.

Why wouldn't his legacy be forgotten and his teachings be perverted in a mere thousand years? A thousand years? Even the Mortal Emperors of the Rain World had histories and legacies that could be traced back over five thousand years, such that their descendants still honored them by burning incense. It was because such ancestors had created solid, tangible changes that stood the test of time and paved the way for the prosperity of their family, bloodline and Empire.

How could they ever be forgotten, when one walked upon roads built by them, and lived in castles constructed by them, and feasted on grain from farms in territories seized by them?

Hagoromo, however, had done no such thing. Worse, his feckless descendants started killing themselves and fighting themselves due to his decision in choosing a successor to carry out a dream that he could have achieved himself, had he not left his brain at the market.

Even Hagoromo Ōtsutsuki, the man called the Sage of Six Paths, in Zi Wuji’s eyes—

He was merely another Sheltered Young Master.

The only reason this world fell into such a state rather than becoming a Blessed Land, a Paradise for all living beings, is because you are fool who has never had anyone dare to point out the depths of your foolishness.

Hagoromo was a Sheltered Young Master in a world where there was no one strong enough to give him a Face-Slapping moment. The beliefs he held as a young boy, he would cling to them, even as an adult, and even as an old man, because there had simply been no one in the world strong enough to oppose his viewpoint and thus, make him see its flaws, and thus, refine his ideas and improve them.

On the path of cultivation, there have been those with rare physiques who did not encounter bottlenecks and faced no tribulations, and such individuals thought themselves chosen by heaven, only to find that they were often weaker than their counterparts whom the heavens sought to destroy with terrifying Five-Colored Lightning Tribulation…

For those terrifying tribulations, though life and death are uncertain, those who survive find that their body is tempered, impurities are cleansed, and their foundations are more robust. If one did not face tribulations at all, where would they see such benefits?

The edge of a treasured sword comes from honing; the fragrance of plum blossoms comes from bitter cold.

All who are wise know that running water does not decay, and a door hinge does not rot.

Zi Wuji grabbed the quiet soul within his hands and, bit by bit, began to mold it as though it were clay. Slowly, he clapped his hands and lifted the ball high above his head, in the darkness and void of space.

“Henceforth, your soul and chakra will effuse every blade of grass, every patch of soil, every plant, every tree, every lake, every river, and every ocean. Experience with your own senses the world, and comprehend for yourself the myriad of ways you could have made it better.”

“Comprehend...?”

“Perhaps it will take you a thousand years, being as dull-witted as you are, but perhaps when you observe that closely, you will begin to understand where you erred.”

Zi Wuji released the orb, which hovered with a glowing, blueish-green light.

“If afterward, you are not convinced, you can attempt to save your world with your own efforts, rather than seeking others to do what it was you failed to achieve, much less daring to ask me to perform such a foolish task. I am not a shinobi. I am not your successor. I am not your inheritor. I have no desire for the needless mantles of savior or messiah. From inception, to culmination, from the origins of creation to the ends of time, I, Zi Wuji, am and will always be one thing—”

The orb burst.

“An Immortal Cultivator.”

And rained upon the world.

XXXXX

Unknown Planet

“...Hm?”

A man lifted his head high up into the sky, throwing his gaze towards the distance.

“Did you feel that, Kinshiki…?”

“Yes, Momoshiki-sama.”

“Was another member of our clan sent to this backwater waste of a realm to harvest Chakra Fruits?”

“Not to my knowledge, Momoshiki-sama.”

“Is it her? No… it can’t be that wastrel. Kaguya’s bloodline is nowhere near that pure, and her chakra is nowhere near that potent. Go. See if it is one of the Clan Elders. If it is, remember your manners.”

“...As you command, Momoshiki-sama.”

XXXXX

Zi Wuji returned to the Clan Head Training Ground, soundlessly, with a tear of space. His steps, graceful, such that the world around him barely reacted to his presence, as if he were one with it. With his gaze sweeping thousands of li in a single motion, he saw the lingering bits and traces of Hagoromo’s soul and chakra, which, truly, became ‘one’ with the world he was so desperate to ‘save.’

He doubted the man would ever understand how it was that he could not resist Zi Wuji’s methods, just as he would never understand the absolute purity of the blood which now ran in Zi Wuji’s veins.

Zi Wuji also did not worry about the man learning how to extract himself from such a union.

Having lived only one mortal life, having never understood the nuances of the cycle of death and rebirth, how could you fathom the means of the Tenseigan? This eye, which embodies Reincarnation, can you truly resist its methods?

Taking in a deep breath, Zi Wuji sat once more upon his jade throne and channeled his Divine Sense, thus that everything within Konoha entered his perception.

His gaze saw his youngest disciple, Naruto, far away within the Forest of Death, training heavily to near exhaustion, gripping the notes his father had left behind, and staring at a large, gargantuan tree that was covered in hundreds of spiral marks. 

He saw Uzumaki Mito, working hard with the Clan Head Council, attempting to discuss things such as inheritance and succession, debating the topic of who would become the Fifth Hokage.

He saw the Third Hokage, Sarutobi Hiruzen, on a hospital bed, lying flat and unconscious, the shock of learning of the death of his successor being such that it was hard to bear. His student, Senju Tsunade, sat there in silence. In the shadows, a female masked ANBU with a scarred nose watched them both.

There was Hatake Kakashi, Namikaze’s student, where he always was, standing in front of a memorial for fallen shinobi.

There was his junior-disciple-sister, Mitarashi Anko, gritting her teeth as she wandered through the childhood home that had once belonged to her mentor, Orochimaru of the Sannin.

There was his eldest disciple, Yamanaka Ino, at home, studying a book her father had given her, before deciding to spend some more time with the man, with her parents, time that she had now seen, comprehending through the death of the Hokage, that mortal life was fragile and fleeting.

His junior-disciple-brother, Uchiha Itachi, or rather, a crow of his, was hovering about, flying around the borders of Konohagure no Sato, on quiet patrol. Another crow was watching his brother, Sasuke, training, and a third was speaking with a masked member of the ANBU.

Then, there was Uzumaki Kushina, quietly eating a meal, downing liquor with the ease of breathing in a red night gown.

Then—

Zi Wuji turned his gaze to the side, where a beautiful raven-haired girl swept in with a breeze that came as though it was the freshest and first gusts of winter, elegantly, smoothly, before she got on one knee in front of his throne, bowing with a trembling body.

With long, fair legs, perfectly pristine jade-like skin, clad in an elegant white kimono, her long raven hair flowed like waterfalls down her back. Her voice was soft and pleasing to the ears, like the melody that came from a zither. Her breasts had developed to be full and supple, comparable to watermelons, with neither the tiniest traces of blemish or defect. Her eyes, which were white as snow, contained the Byakugan, but with a great sense of elegance.

“Neji-ni-sama,” she spoke, appropriately. “Congratulations on emerging from your seclusion.”

“Oh?”

Zi Wuji’s gaze lingered on her form for the first time in years, as he slowly stroked his chin. Whilst the memories had come of what she looked like, it was the first time he was seeing her in person for several years.

He did not need to walk about to examine her, as his Byakugan completely did so, evaluating everything from all angles, from her bones, which had developed to possess traces of True Yin, to her blood, which moved slowly and in a controlled manner, to her skin, which emanated a slight chill.

As expected of one who is closest to possessing a True Heavenly Yin Physique…

That Yin Energy she emanated would also cause a disturbance in others who set their gaze on her, pervading their bodies and their minds. There was no counter to it, unless one’s control of Yang Chakra was sufficient and potent enough, and if one had no means or understanding of how to manipulate Yang Chakra, they could only get on their knees and wail in despair. For only Yin balanced Yang, and only Yang balanced Yin. 

Such a thing was of no concern to Zi Wuji, whose comprehension of Yang was sufficient, and whose experiences were broad and vast. To the unwitting fools of this world who had never comprehended such beauty and did not know such methods, however?

“Not bad.”

“Your praise pleases me, Neji-ni-sama!”

For a mortal, she had already reached the pinnacle of what was physically possible. For most low-level Cultivators, even if they viewed mortals as insects unworthy of their attention, such beauty would still draw their favor. In fact, the reason why the vast majority of female cultivators were exceedingly beautiful was because such beauty had gotten others, be they male or female, to wish to give them an opportunity to embark upon the path of Cultivation.

Indeed, at least with such features, she would not fall behind.

She qualifies to be considered a beauty that can be said to come around only once in a thousand years…

Of course, there are the beauties who only come about once in five thousand years, or once in ten thousand years… but attaining such a thing without Cultivation is impossible.

It was a game of numbers. The Rain World was estimated to hold over a hundred trillion souls. If amongst those hundred trillion souls, there was a beauty that was one in a million, then there were at least one hundred million of such beauties. If there was a beauty that was one in a billion, then there would be one hundred thousand just like her.

Zi Wuji doubted the population of the Elemental Nations, no, of this entire world, was even up to a measly billion. Thus, a one-in-a-million would reign supreme, having countless suitors, envied and adored, and a one-in-a-billion would be inconceivable to the mind, elevated to the level of a fairy or goddess.

“I see you still use the Yin Water Absorption Method.”

“Yes, Neji-ni-sama. Every morning, and every night.” 

Zi Wuji gestured with his finger. She rose from where she was and, with his guidance, sat on his lap, with grace and demureness. His hand moved slowly to feel the suppleness of her flesh, kneading her thigh as though it were dough in a baker’s hand.

“A-ah! Neji-ni-sama!”

“Hm. Not bad.”

The principle of Wu-Wei filled his gaze as it did his hand as he sought neither to overindulge nor suppress, appreciating what was there with light, gentle touches. Hinata’s cheeks grew heated and flushed.

His blood had been completely remade in the Origin Blood Pool, thus that he could no longer be considered a Hyūga. Due to the effects of the Origin Blood Pool, all hidden abilities in his bloodline, all natural talents, and forgotten benefits that had been diluted over time had been purged.

He possessed, currently, the ‘purest’ bloodline possible of an Ōtsutsuki. With it came no shortage of miraculous abilities, all of which he learned from the memories of his past life, as they contained memories of battling against Kaguya, and the myriad of complicated means and methods she had at her disposal.

“Do you study the teachings I left behind closely?”

“Y-y-yes, Neji-ni-sama…” 

She shuddered at his touch, her zither-like voice reaching a higher pitch, letting out a sound that would have had lesser men already firing their Yang Essence.

Waves upon waves of Yin Chakra poured out from her and created a faint, chilling mist and aroma as he softly kneaded her thigh.

“E-every day… I s-s-studied… I p-practiced…”

Zi Wuji’s hand left her thigh, and she let out a mournful sound as he did so, looking at him with puppy-like eyes that amused Zi Wuji.

“You must prove the results of your training,” Zi Wuji intoned. “You must first pay back the humiliation, and wash away that blemish from your past. Are you ready?”

Her gaze hardened. “Yes, Neji-ni-sama.”

“Good,” Zi Wuji said. “Remember, I will not intervene personally unless absolutely necessary.”

Zi Wuji wordlessly and soundlessly performed the Transformation Technique for his appearance to resemble that of Wuji Zi, his clone, which was what the world had known him to look like. He slashed at the air with his hand. Hinata’s eyes widened as a black tear formed in space. Hinata rose from his lap, and he too rose, clasping his hands behind his back. He took a step forward, walking through the tear in space, and the next moment she followed him.

Staying low-key, making no waves, stirring no trouble, accumulating quietly, such things were good when one was first finding their feet, but after solidly planting their feet upon the earth, to remain low-key, to still allow oneself be trampled by others, that was no longer caution, but cowardice.

To embody Wu-Wei, the means of non-striving, of actionless action, Zi Wuji would not move himself, but allow the varying connections made to move in his place, for it was through him that such individuals had risen to the pinnacle.

Indeed, it was finally time—

To reap the benefits of seeds long cultivated.

XXXXX

“Raikage-sama! Raikage-sama! It’s urgent!”

When all the alarms in the village had gone off as one, indicating that there was an intruder, the Fourth Raikage, A, assumed it was merely some rodent or spy skulking about, attempting to find one secret or the other. At least, that was what he assumed, until four, indescribably large black barriers appeared without warning, and completely sealed off the village. The black barriers were made of a material he had never seen before, and clearly reinforced with fūinjutsu, and only the sun, above, was their saving grace that allowed light to shine down on Kumogakure no Sato.

Yet, the sun above cast a shadow. Rather, two individuals cast shadows. Two individuals, floating in the air, standing on nothing, and gazing down below them. Two Hyūga.

“I, Hyūga Hinata, have come to seek retribution!”

A beautiful, alluring, melodious voice traveled throughout the entirety of Kumogakure and trembled in every ear. A, taking a deep breath, stepped out of his office, gritting his teeth as he had to crane his neck to look upwards at the blasted Hyūga.

What is it now?!

There were only six days left before the Shinobi Leader Summit, and now two members of the Hyūga Clan had come to his village? The male he recognized, the Divine Firmament he was called, Hyūga Neji, but the female—

A beat skipped in A’s chest, one which had a cold chill gnaw at his heart.

Such— such beauty—

She was the most beautiful woman A had ever seen, bar none. So much so that a chill had swallowed his heart and made it tremble. Yet, such a beautiful face held a frosty, merciless, pitiless gaze as she glanced down at the world below.

He quickly snapped himself out of the strange heart-gnawing trance, but noticed none of his shinobi had managed to do the same. Men were staring upwards with their mouths open, with drool pouring from their lips. There were his trained, battle-hardened shinobi, on their knees, weeping from the sight of the woman alone. There was even a fool whose hand had reached into his drawers in a dazed trance and was beginning to stroke—

“Snap out of it! Fools!”

A rushed towards one fool, smacking him across the face to disrupt the genjutsu, yet, to his horror, no difference was made. He understood, rapidly, that this was no genjutsu and no illusion. It was some sort of diabolical technique that had all but seized the hearts of his shinobi and placed them in an entranced state. Even the kunoichi were ensnared, and those who appeared to be less affected were still trembling and shaking, unable to stand properly. He absolutely could not rely only on his kunoichi, because their overall fighting power was significantly lower compared to the men, but in such a state?

The woman responsible for it all floated down, as though she were some sort of divine being descending, floated until she hovered only mere feet away from him, her eyes showing neither mercy nor pity.

“Over ten years ago, you sent shinobi to abduct me from my home. Do you remember that transgression?”

At those words, A’s breath hitched in his throat. The name finally struck a bell.

She’s… The Hyūga Heiress… the former Hyūga Heiress.

While it was true that A had not been in control of himself for a long time, that particular action had still had his full backing and support and had been one of the decisions he personally gave the green light on; as such, he did, in fact, recall such an incident very clearly. 

Just as his predecessor had once attempted to kidnap Namikaze’s wife long ago, he, too, had sought to kidnap the Hyūga Heiress and attain the secrets of that Dōjutsu. Of course, publicly, they disavowed any connection to the attempt and claimed it was a rogue agent working on their own.

Under normal circumstances, A’s first tactic would be to attack without hesitation, but with this many of his shinobi ensnared under some form of bewitching technique that he had never seen before and never encountered before, he was cautious. If she had the means to kill them as easily as she did to ensnare them, attacking would only lead to unprecedented losses, which Kumo could not bear, given they had already lost many during the war and lost even more during the Namikaze Incident.

Worse, there was a feeling in his heart, a cold one, that the only reason he was not as ensnared as the rest of them was because the woman floating above him did not wish him to be. 

This was no doubt a new form of shinobi technique that did not count as ninjutsu, taijutsu, or genjutsu. No, a form of kunoichi technique, that could only be its own category, a form of beguilement could only be given a new term—

Yōjutsu. 

Konoha… why is it always Konoha?

One did not get to be the Kage of a Village without knowing when to step back, and when to make concessions. Gritting his teeth harshly, A grunted, “What do you want?”

Hyūga Hinata smiled at him in a way that should have been filled with kindness, yet he had sweat dripping down his back.

“Hand over your two jinchūriki, cut off both your hands, break your legs, and kowtow sixty-four times in apology, and I will consider sparing your life.”

What?

A had never heard such an absurd request in his life. 

“You must be mad!”

Above, in the air, the male, the Divine Firmament, Hyūga Neji, was nodding his head, clapping, and laughing. “Good! Good! Good!”

The man, with his chiseled, elegant features, glanced towards him.

“Do you think that the Hyūga are easy to bully? Do you believe our Clan Compound is your backyard? That when you want to send people to come, they can come, and when they wish to leave, they can leave?”

A blast of Killing Intent assaulted the Raikage with so much force that his hair stood on end, and he almost took a step back.

“Had your kidnapping been successful, you would have used her to breed your own Hyūga within this village! Such an audacious desire is the karmic cause for your tribulation today. Whether you live or die at the end of this matter depends on the next words that come out of your mouth.”

The Fourth Raikage ground his teeth. A truce has been declared, you would dare break it or—

Or what? He was well aware that Konoha did not stand or fall based on allegiances to their Daimyō. At best, the Hyūga would take the fall and be expunged from the village, or at worst, they would ignore their Daimyō’s wishes for peace entirely.

They were the only ones who could afford to do so.

Yet, the request was simply too absurd. Cut off his hands? Break his legs? If that were not enough, the request to hand over Yugito and his brother all but guaranteed it was something he absolutely could not do.

“You have three breaths of time.” 

Hyūga Hinata’s calming, soothing, yet absolutely frigid voice disrupted his thoughts.

“One.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourselves, brats! I am the Fourth Raikage! This is Kumogakure no Sato! You think you can come here and give me commands?!”

His own killing intent spiked. His Lightning Chakra Armor filled his body.

“Two.”

“I don’t know what method you used to ensnare my men, but if I take you down…”

He lunged at the woman.

“Three.”

Hinata casually floated high into the sky, like a butterfly, her feet creating a small trail of ice and snow, which worked as platforms that she stood upon. A’s attack swung wide and missed completely, and the Raikage, despite his best efforts, did not possess the means to fly.

“So you have chosen…”

Hinata smiled.

“To court death.”