Breaking Fate!
The sun hung low in the sky, casting golden hues over the Hyuga compound’s outer training grounds. A soft breeze rustled through the trees, making the leaves whisper as Hinata moved fluidly through her training forms. Her Byakugan was inactive, but her focus was sharp. Each strike of her palm carried precision, a subtle shift in her stance making her movements more efficient than before.
She had not made it to the final matches of the Chūnin Exams, but that did not mean she would let her skills stagnate. Growth was a continuous path, one she refused to stray from.
She was mid-strike when a familiar voice cut through the quiet.
“Hinata.”
Hinata was startled, her hand faltering mid-air as she blinked in surprise. Turning, she saw Neji standing a few feet away, arms crossed, his sharp gaze unreadable. The last time they had spoken—truly spoken—was during their match. He had been so certain of her weakness then. Yet now…
Neji studied her for a moment before speaking, his voice measured. “I wish to train with you.”
Hinata’s eyes widened. “…Eh?”
“For the final matches.” Neji’s frown deepened, as though irritated at himself for having to explain. “Your Gentle Fist was different during our fight. More efficient. It wasn’t the same rigid style we were taught. You fought differently, and I want to learn why.”
Hinata blinked, then sweatdropped. Neji—her cousin who once belittled her abilities—was asking to train with her?
Still, she could see that he was serious. His posture, the way his brows furrowed, the faint tension in his shoulders—it was the same look he had during battle when he had found an opponent worth taking seriously.
After a pause, she exhaled softly and gave a small nod. “An old woman taught me,” she admitted. “Her name was Kaguya.”
Neji’s brows knitted together, confusion flashing in his pale eyes. “Kaguya?” He frowned. “I’ve never heard of her.”
Hinata only shrugged, offering no further explanation.
For a long moment, Neji stared at her, as if trying to read something from her expression. Then, he let out a breath through his nose and nodded. “Very well. If you will allow it, I would like to train with you.”
Hinata’s lips curved into a small, understanding smile. “Alright.”
As they both shifted into stances, the tension between them was different from before. Not the cold sharpness of animosity, but something new. A cautious step forward, an attempt to rebuild something that had long been fractured.
A step toward change.
The rhythmic sound of feet scuffing against the training ground filled the air as Hinata and Neji moved in tandem, their strikes sharp, their movements refined. The intensity of their training had grown, each learning from the other as they pushed themselves further. Neji had always been precise—controlled and unwavering—but now, there was a subtle shift in his style. His movements, once rigid and bound by tradition, were loosening, adapting.
Hinata, in turn, was growing more confident. No longer hesitant, no longer second-guessing herself, she struck with certainty, her form a seamless blend of old and new. The two clashed, hands meeting in bursts of chakra as their Byakugan eyes tracked every movement, every shift in stance.
A faint smirk ghosted over Neji’s lips as Hinata nearly landed a hit to his chest. “You're improving,” he remarked, smoothly deflecting her strike before countering with one of his own.
Hinata exhaled, shifting to the side and redirecting his force rather than blocking it outright. “So are you, Neji-nii-san.”
The name hung between them for a brief moment. Neji didn’t correct her. Instead, he pushed forward, testing her reflexes with a rapid series of palm strikes. She met them all, deflecting, countering, adapting.
It was no longer a simple spar—it was a forging of something new.
But then—
“What do you two think you are doing?”
A sharp, authoritative voice cut through the air like a kunai, shattering the focused atmosphere.
Both Hinata and Neji stopped, their heads snapping toward the source.
An elder of the Hyūga Clan stood at the edge of the training grounds, his white robes pristine, his gaze cold as he regarded them. He did not even spare Hinata a glance before his eyes settled on Neji, and in them was a silent declaration—Neji was beneath him.
Neji stiffened, his posture immediately straightening, hands lowering to his sides. Hinata, too, straightened, but her expression remained unreadable as she turned fully toward the elder.
The man’s voice was crisp, carrying an edge of finality. “You are not permitted to train together.”
Hinata’s fingers curled slightly, but her expression remained composed. “Why not?”
The elder scoffed. “The Branch House and the Main House do not train together. You know this. It goes against the ways of our clan.”
Neji’s jaw tightened, his hands clenching at his sides. He did not look up, nor did he argue, but Hinata saw the way his shoulders tensed. The way his breath came just a fraction too sharply.
She stepped forward.
Firm. Steady. Unmoving.
“Why?” Her voice did not waver.
The elder frowned at her. “You are the daughter of the Clan Head. You will train only with instructors assigned to you.” His eyes flicked toward Neji, dismissive. “He is Branch. He serves the Main House. He does not learn alongside it.”
Hinata’s hands tightened at her sides.
She took another step forward, meeting the elder’s gaze directly.
“Neji-nii-san is my cousin.” Her voice was quiet but unyielding, a steel thread woven through soft silk. “He is not beneath me.”
The elder’s frown deepened. “That is not for you to decide.”
Hinata inhaled deeply. “Then tell me—what is the point of our clan’s strength if we deny it from our own?”
The elder stiffened.
“The Gentle Fist,” Hinata continued, her voice steady, “is the pride of the Hyūga. Our entire way of life is built upon the strength of our technique. Yet you deny Neji-nii-san the right to refine his skills? You limit his potential because of an outdated system?”
Neji’s eyes widened slightly. He had never heard Hinata speak like this before. Not to an elder. Not with such confidence.
The elder’s expression darkened. “It is not your place to question tradition.”
Hinata did not move. “If tradition is built on the idea that we must hold each other back, then perhaps it is not tradition worth following.”
Silence.
The elder stared at her as if waiting for her to falter, to shrink back as she had always done. But Hinata did not move.
She stood before him like an unshaken tree against the storm.
The elder’s lips thinned. “You overstep, Hinata-sama.”
But Hinata only straightened her shoulders further. “I stand where I should have been all along.”
The elder's gaze flickered between her and Neji, and though he did not respond immediately, there was a weight in the air—an unspoken challenge, a realization that Hinata was no longer the meek, hesitant girl they had once dismissed.
After a long pause, the elder exhaled sharply, his tone clipped. “Enough. You will not train together again.”
He turned on his heel and left, his robes billowing behind him.
As soon as he was gone, Neji finally turned to Hinata. He studied her, his Byakugan is still active, as if he were seeing her for the first time.
Hinata exhaled slowly, then turned back to him. “We’ll continue later, Neji-nii-san.”
Neji’s lips parted slightly before he gave a small, incredulous scoff. “…You truly are different.”
Hinata smiled, small but sure. “I choose to be.”
The sound of quiet footsteps echoed in the Hyūga compound’s dimly lit hallways as Hinata returned from her training. The moon was high, casting long shadows against the pristine wooden floors, yet she moved with purpose, her breathing steady despite the hours of exertion.
Neji had improved significantly. So had she.
Their training had continued in secret, away from the watchful eyes of the Main House elders. With each passing day, their movements became sharper, and their strikes became more precise. Neji adapted quickly, absorbing everything Hinata had shown him about the traditional Gentle Fist—the real Gentle Fist. His stance had changed, his footwork more efficient, his strikes no longer weighed down by unnecessary movement.
Hinata, in turn, had pushed herself further than ever before. With Neji as her partner, she learned to adjust to unpredictability, to counter overwhelming strength with fluidity and control. Their training sessions were no longer just about technique—they were about breaking the limitations their clan had placed upon them.
She had never felt stronger.
But strength was not something easily hidden.
That evening, dinner was a quiet affair, as it always was. Hiashi sat at the head of the table, his expression unreadable as he ate. Hanabi, sitting to Hinata’s right, glanced between them occasionally but said nothing, focused on her meal.
The silence stretched until Hiashi, without looking up from his plate, finally spoke.
“I know you have been training with Neji.”
Hinata’s hand froze mid-movement, her chopsticks hovering over her rice. Her grip tightened instinctively, but she did not lift her gaze. Slowly, she placed another bite into her mouth, chewing methodically, ignoring the heavy weight of her father’s words.
Hanabi stiffened.
Hiashi continued his tone even. “You are aware that this is not allowed.”
Hinata swallowed, then finally glanced up. Her voice was quiet but firm. “Neji-nii-san needed it for the final matches of the Chūnin Exams.”
Hiashi exhaled through his nose, placing his chopsticks down with precision. His pale eyes, cold and sharp as steel, met hers. “That is not your concern. You are not to train with him.”
The air grew tense.
Hinata, still holding her chopsticks, finally set them down beside her plate. Her hands were calm, but beneath the table, they trembled with restrained emotion.
She met her father’s gaze—an action she rarely dared to do.
“Why?”
Hiashi’s eyes narrowed. “It is not your place to question this.”
Hinata’s fingers curled into fists against her lap.
“Then whose place is it?” Her voice was low, and controlled, but there was an undercurrent of something dangerous in it. “Who has the right to question this if not us? If not me?”
Hiashi’s expression remained unchanged, but his posture stiffened ever so slightly.
Hinata’s breath was steady, but inside, she burned.
“You are a coward.”
The words left her lips before she could stop them, but she did not regret them. She would not take them back.
Hanabi’s eyes widened in shock. The room felt frozen in time.
Hiashi’s jaw tightened, but still, he remained silent.
Hinata’s voice trembled not with fear, but with fury.
“How can you sit there and let our family suffer?” Her hands clenched harder beneath the table. “How can you let this corrupt system continue? How can you live knowing that our clan is divided, that our own family—our own blood—is treated as lesser?”
Hiashi inhaled deeply, his expression unreadable. “This is the way our clan has always been.”
Hinata slammed her hands onto the table. “Then change it!”
The dishes rattled from the impact.
Hiashi’s eyes sharpened, but for the first time, there was something beneath the surface. Something flickering.
Hinata’s voice shook, but her resolve did not waver. “I refuse to sit by and pretend this is normal. I refuse to act like Neji-nii-san’s suffering is acceptable.”
Hiashi remained silent, watching her, observing her—not as a failure, not as a disappointment, but as something else.
Perhaps, for the first time, as an equal.
The air between them was heavy with unspoken words.
Hinata stood, her movements slow but deliberate.
“If you will not change things, then I will.”
She turned on her heel and walked away.
For once, Hiashi did not stop her.
The room was silent for a long moment.
Hiashi Hyuga, head of the Hyuga Clan, barely registered the stunned expressions of the elders around him. His own words echoed in his mind—firm and absolute.
"No, that isn’t necessary."
He hadn't meant to blurt it out. It had slipped from his lips before he could think better of it, driven not by logic but by the memory of his daughter’s glare—burning, furious, filled with resentment and conviction he hadn’t thought her capable of.
Across the room, the elders exchanged uneasy glances.
“Lord Hiashi,” one of them, an older man with deep-set eyes and thin lips, spoke cautiously. “Forgive me, but perhaps you did not hear correctly. The branch member, Neji, and the heiress have been training together. Despite repeated warnings against such behavior.”
Another elder, a severe-looking woman with sharp features, frowned. “It is a breach of our ways. The separation of the Main House and the Branch House is absolute for a reason. Should this go unpunished, what message does it send? That they can defy tradition without consequence?”
Hiashi exhaled quietly, his hands folding over one another on the table before him. He had spent years enforcing those same laws, abiding by them, ensuring that the Hyuga Clan remained strong, unshaken in its ways.
But now, he found himself questioning.
He had watched Hinata cower for years, watched her falter under his expectations, under the weight of what she was supposed to be. But last night, she had not cowered. She had stood.
And she had looked at him with hatred.
A Hyuga should not be ruled by emotion, yet he could not shake the heat of her anger, the sheer weight of her words:
"How could you allow this? How can you stand by and let our family suffer?"
A younger version of himself—one bound by duty, by fear—would have dismissed it. Would have crushed such rebellion before it could bloom.
But now, he was older. Wiser. He had lost a brother to this clan’s traditions, had lost his own daughter’s love to the very structure he had been upholding.
Hiashi slowly lifted his gaze, scanning the elders. “You are correct,” he said at last, his voice level. “The separation between the Main and Branch Houses has always been absolute.”
A few of the elders nodded approvingly, but their relief was premature.
Hiashi’s next words shattered it.
“But tell me,” he continued, tone turning sharp, “has this system truly strengthened us? Has it ensured loyalty, or has it bred resentment?”
Silence. The air in the meeting room grew heavy.
The eldest of them all, a man who had served as an advisor for decades, narrowed his eyes. “Lord Hiashi,” he said carefully, “you are not suggesting—”
“I am stating facts,” Hiashi interrupted, his voice quiet but firm. “Hinata’s growth in battle was evident in the preliminaries. Neji’s skill is undeniable. If training together has sharpened their abilities, then why should I punish them for it?”
The room practically vibrated with the weight of his words.
One of the elders scoffed, clearly irritated. “Because it goes against our ways—”
“Our ways,” Hiashi said coolly, “have not changed for generations. And yet, our enemies evolve. The world moves forward, while we stay stagnant, bound by traditions we dare not question.” He met each of their gazes, his Byakugan visible, unflinching. “Perhaps it is time we change as well.”
Not a single elder spoke.
For the first time in years, Hiashi felt something shift. The tides had been still for so long, but now, they stirred. The elders could not ignore his words.
They could not ignore Hinata’s words.
Hiashi leaned back in his seat, his expression impassive, but his mind was made up.
“I will not punish my daughter for striving to be strong,” he said simply. “Nor will I punish Neji for seeking strength. This discussion is over.”
And with that, he rose from his seat, turning away from the stunned silence of the elders. Let them think. Let them question.
The Hyuga Clan had ruled with unchallenged tradition for long enough.
Perhaps it was time for something new.
Neji wiped the sweat from his brow, exhaling slowly as he lowered into a seated position beside Hinata. Their training session had been grueling, yet not once had Hinata faltered. She was no longer the timid girl who hesitated in battle—she was evolving, just as he was.
But now, his attention drifted to the stack of books at her side. Thick tomes, aged scrolls, and well-preserved texts lay open, inked diagrams and precise formulas scattered across the pages. Even from a glance, he could tell they weren’t simple books on taijutsu or strategy. The symbols were intricate, the script detailing something far more complex.
Curious, he turned to Hinata, who was quietly reading with deep concentration. “What are you studying?”
Hinata blinked at him, then looked down at the book in her lap. She traced a symbol with her finger before answering, “Fuinjutsu.”
Neji’s brows furrowed. “Sealing techniques?”
Hinata nodded. “More specifically… how to break them.”
Neji stiffened slightly. He didn’t need to ask why. He already knew.
His hand instinctively went to his forehead, where the Caged Bird Seal lay dormant, hidden beneath his hitai-ate. His fingers curled into a fist before dropping away. He kept his voice even. “That kind of research is dangerous.”
“I know.” Hinata’s voice was soft but steady. “But that doesn’t mean it isn’t worth pursuing.”
Neji studied her carefully. “The Caged Bird Seal isn’t a simple technique, Hinata. It was created generations ago by our ancestors—refined to the point that even some of the best fuinjutsu experts in Konoha would have difficulty dismantling it. It isn’t just a seal for control; it’s woven into our chakra pathways. Removing it improperly could damage the user’s entire system… or worse.”
Hinata didn’t flinch at his words. Instead, she turned the book toward him, showing a detailed illustration of a sealing formula. “I know that too. That’s why I’m studying everything. This book explains that the Caged Bird Seal works in two ways—the first being the trigger that allows a Main House member to activate it. The second is the fail-safe that prevents tampering.”
Neji’s eyes narrowed as he scanned the passage. He had never been given the luxury of understanding the seal on his own forehead. The Branch Members were only ever told how it worked—never allowed to know the specifics.
“This section,” Hinata continued, flipping the page, “talks about how all fuinjutsu has a key. Even the strongest seals need an origin point to be activated or deactivated. If we can find the key, we can find a way to break the Caged Bird Seal without harming the Branch Members.”
Neji inhaled sharply. “And you believe you can do that?”
Hinata smiled softly. “I know I can.”
There was no hesitation. No doubt in her tone.
Neji stared at her, searching for uncertainty, for weakness—but he found none. It was strange. The Hinata he had fought in the preliminaries, the girl he had once dismissed as frail, was nowhere to be seen. Instead, this Hinata radiated an unshakable determination.
He exhaled, relaxing his posture. “Then tell me,” he said, tilting his head toward the book, “what does it say about counteracting the seal’s activation?”
Hinata brightened, flipping to another page. “Here. It suggests that if we can find a way to disrupt the chakra connection between the Main and Branch House, the seal wouldn’t respond to external activation. It would become dormant instead of lethal.”
Neji hummed thoughtfully. “That would mean blocking an entire pathway of chakra without cutting off the user’s flow. That’s difficult, but…” He ran a hand through his hair, considering. “Not impossible.”
Hinata nodded eagerly. “Exactly. And I believe we can refine this method over time. Even if I can’t break the seal immediately, I can at least weaken its control. That would be a start.”
Neji stared at her for a long moment before shaking his head in disbelief.
“You truly are different from before.”
Hinata blinked. “Is… that a bad thing?”
Neji smirked slightly, glancing away. “No. It’s a good thing.”
The silence between them was no longer uncomfortable. It was filled with something else—understanding.
Hinata returned to her reading, and Neji leaned closer, eyes scanning the text with quiet intrigue. For the first time in his life, he wasn’t just accepting the fate that had been handed to him.
He was questioning it.
And maybe—just maybe—he would find a way to break free of it.
Neji entered the hospital room alongside Tenten and Might Guy, the scent of antiseptic thick in the air. Rock Lee lay in bed, his usual boundless energy somewhat diminished by the bandages wrapping his torso and arm. Still, his grin was unwavering, his determination undeterred by injury.
"Ah! My youthful teammates and esteemed sensei!" Lee exclaimed, sitting up despite the protest of his aching muscles. "To what do I owe this wonderful visit?"
Tenten rolled her eyes fondly. "We came to check on you, obviously. You nearly broke half your body fighting in the preliminaries."
Lee merely gave a thumbs-up. "A minor setback! I shall be discharged in a week, and my training will resume at once!"
Might Guy's eyes shone with pride. "Spoken like a true warrior, Lee! Your flames of youth burn ever so brightly!"
Neji sighed. "If you train recklessly before fully recovering, you'll just end up back here."
Lee beamed at him. "Neji! You sound almost concerned. Have you finally embraced the bonds of friendship?"
Tenten tilted her head, giving Neji a scrutinizing look. "Actually… you have been acting different lately."
"Yes!" Lee nodded enthusiastically. "There is a lightness about you, Neji! A renewed spirit! What has changed?"
Neji leaned against the windowsill, arms crossed. "Nothing much."
Tenten scoffed. "Liar. You've been… happier. Or at least, less broody. Which is practically the same thing for you."
Neji gave a small shrug, his expression unreadable. "If you must know… I've rekindled a friendship."
Tenten blinked. "A friendship?"
Lee leaned forward eagerly. "With whom?"
Neji hesitated for only a moment before answering, "Hinata."
The room fell silent. Even Might Guy, who usually found wisdom in every sentence, seemed momentarily at a loss for words.
Tenten's eyes widened. "Wait—Hinata? As in your cousin Hinata?"
Neji nodded.
Lee blinked rapidly, then grinned. "That is most unexpected! You… did not seem particularly fond of her before."
"That’s putting it lightly," Tenten muttered.
Neji exhaled, glancing away. "I once resented her," he admitted. "For being born into the Main House. For the things she had that I did not." His voice was even, but there was no longer the sharp bitterness that had once accompanied those words. "But after our match, I began to see things differently. Hinata isn't the person I assumed she was."
Tenten crossed her arms. "And what changed your mind?"
Neji was quiet for a moment before he finally said, "She fights."
Tenten raised a brow. "All of us fight."
Neji shook his head. "Not like that. Not just for herself, but for something greater. She’s determined to change things—to change fate." He looked down at his hands. "And for the first time… I wonder if fate is truly absolute."
Tenten and Lee exchanged a glance.
"Wow," Tenten finally said, rubbing the back of her neck. "I never thought I'd see the day you questioned fate. Is the world ending?"
Lee, however, grinned with unrestrained joy. "This is wonderful! Neji, to accept friendship is to embrace the fire of youth! I am so proud!"
Might Guy wipe a tear from his eye. "Ah, the power of understanding between comrades! This is the true essence of strength!"
Neji sighed, rubbing his temples. "I regret saying anything."
Tenten smirked. "Too late."
Despite the teasing, Neji felt lighter than he had in years. Perhaps fate was not the immovable force he once believed it to be. Perhaps, with time, even a caged bird could learn to fly.
Team 8 sat together in one of Konoha’s training grounds, the scent of damp earth and foliage filling the air. Hinata, Shino, and Kiba were gathered in a loose circle, with Kurenai standing nearby, arms crossed as she observed her students.
“Congratulations, Shino,” Hinata said, her voice warm with sincerity. “You made it to the final matches. I know you’ll do well.”
Shino gave a small nod, adjusting his glasses. “Thank you, Hinata. I intend to represent our team to the best of my ability.”
Kiba huffed, arms crossed over his chest. Akamaru, sitting on his lap, gave a small whine as if sensing his partner’s frustration. “Tch, yeah, yeah, good job, Shino,” Kiba muttered begrudgingly.
Shino tilted his head slightly. “You seem displeased, Kiba.”
Kiba scowled, looking away. “Well, excuse me for not being thrilled that I got my ass handed to me by Naruto of all people.” He clenched his fists, his frustration still raw. “I get that he’s way stronger now, but man… he didn’t just beat me—he humiliated me.”
Hinata lowered her gaze. She had watched Naruto’s match against Kiba, and while she had rooted for Naruto, she could understand Kiba’s frustration. Naruto had fought with an almost ruthless efficiency, outmaneuvering and outlasting Kiba at every turn. The match hadn’t just been a loss—it had been decisive.
“Kiba,” Kurenai said, stepping forward, “loss is never easy, but it’s a valuable teacher. You are skilled, and this isn’t the end for you. Learn from it.”
Kiba clicked his tongue, clearly still irritated, but he didn’t argue.
Kurenai turned her attention to Hinata. “Speaking of matches… you could have won yours.”
The statement caught everyone’s attention. Kiba blinked, his irritation momentarily forgotten, while Shino merely adjusted his glasses.
Hinata’s expression remained neutral, though a flicker of something unreadable passed through her eyes. “…What do you mean, sensei?”
Kurenai’s gaze was sharp. “I mean, you allowed yourself to lose to Neji.”
Shino’s head tilted slightly. “I had the same thought. You fought differently than usual—more efficient, more controlled.” He pushed his glasses up. “There were moments where you could have pressed an advantage, but you held back.”
Kiba gaped. “Wait—are you saying Hinata threw the fight?”
Hinata shook her head. “No,” she said softly, “I didn’t throw the fight. Neji was stronger than me, and I knew that.” She looked down at her hands, fingers curling slightly. “But… I didn’t fight to win. I fought so that Neji would hear me.”
Shino nodded. “I see.”
Kurenai folded her arms. “What do you mean?”
Hinata took a breath. “Neji had something to prove—he needed that match to show everyone, to show himself, that fate wasn’t on his side. That even though he was a Branch House member, he was better than me, better than the Main House.” She exhaled slowly. “I understood why he hated me. Why he resented me.”
Kiba frowned, ears twitching. “But why let yourself lose? You could’ve proven your strength too.”
Hinata offered a small, sad smile. “I wasn’t fighting to prove my strength. I was fighting to prove that I understood him.” Her fingers pressed against the fabric of her pants. “And I did reach him. Maybe not in that moment, but afterward… Neji is changing. We’ve been training together, and we’re… we’re becoming friends.”
Kiba blinked in disbelief. “Hold on, Neji? Your cousin Neji? The guy who’s been calling you weak since forever?”
Hinata nodded.
Kiba ran a hand through his hair. “Man, I don’t know if I should be impressed or terrified. He really hated your guts before.”
Shino adjusted his glasses. “Perhaps what he truly hated was what Hinata represented. Now that she has shown him something different, his perspective has shifted.”
Kurenai studied Hinata carefully. “…You’ve changed.”
Hinata glanced up at her sensei, tilting her head slightly. “Sensei?”
Kurenai gave a small smile. “You used to be afraid of confrontation. Afraid of standing out. Now, you’re making choices with conviction. You’re standing up for what you believe in.”
Hinata felt warmth spread in her chest. She had been changing—little by little, step by step.
Kiba stretched with a groan. “Well, as weird as all this is, I guess if Neji’s finally not being a jerk, that’s a good thing.” He shot her a grin. “Still, next time, don’t let yourself lose. Kick his ass.”
Hinata giggled softly. “I’ll try.”
Kurenai smirked. “Good.”
As the conversation shifted, Hinata glanced up at the sky, the clouds drifting lazily above. Neji’s hatred had once been a storm, an unavoidable force she could never escape. But now, that storm was passing, giving way to something new. Something better.