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Chapter 125 Hiashi’s grief and anger
🕑 Added 2025-10-02 08:10:04 +0000 UTCHiashi had a bad feeling since seeing Yuki and her team off for their mission. He had never led the mission, but the pressure put on their clan to form such a team even included members of the main family in it.
He and the rest of the main family hadn’t forgotten the events that happened on the Mist front, where not only had a member of the main family been killed, but the Byakugan hadn’t been recovered, and at least one was now in the hands of Mist shinobi.
With that wound still fresh in their minds, they weren’t at all willing to take more risks, yet their arm had been twisted; they had no choice.
At least Yuki was on this time, something that was both a source of reassurance and concern. Because Yuki was strong, even stronger than him, but she was also the woman he loved, and her being out in the field, on a possibly black mission, made him worry.
“Haaa,” he sighed as he looked out the window, finding it difficult to even focus on his work.
Suddenly, he heard a commotion outside, people rushing about as if in a panic. Hardly proper behavior for members of the Hyūga clan, more so for anyone inside the inner court.
“Hiashi-sama!” The doors burst open, and the guard shouted, as if they were under attack.
Hiashi quickly stood up, ready to handle the situation, any situation. “What?”
“It’s the team, the team with Yuki-sama, they have returned.” The guard explained.
Hiashi felt a chill run down his spine while his heart leaped in his chest, worry flooding him. Because, it was far too early for them to be back, that team wasn’t expected to be back for weeks.
The only reason Yuki would abandon a mission was if the team risked annihilation, only if they risked losing the Byakugan, the main family member being threatened beyond what she thought she could handle, would she ever risk punishment like that.
“What happened?” he asked, voice barely kept together.
“They are in the hospital, many dead and wounded.” That was all the guard managed to say before Hiashi was gone.
Normally, Hiashi kept himself composed at all times; he would never rush through the village, jumping from roof to roof, using the body flicker just to get around. Something like that was beneath someone of his status.
When out in the village, he would walk around proudly, showing himself before the masses who would whisper in amazement at the noble Hyūga clan.
There was none of that composure this time.
He rushed through the village towards the hospital as quickly as possible, his heart pounding like a drum. Every rooftop blurred beneath him, every leap carried by a desperation he had never allowed himself to show before.
When he landed before the hospital doors, he was already pushing past the startled medics before they could bow or speak.
“Where are they?” His voice was like steel, low and demanding.
One of the healers—face pale, robes stained with blood that wasn’t their own—pointed down the corridor. “West wing. Trauma ward. But… Hyūga-sama—”
He was already gone.
The smell hit first. Blood, antiseptic, and something sharp that clung to the air like ozone. Hiashi slowed only when the corridor forced him to. Rows of beds lined the walls, filled with pale bodies, bandaged heads, empty sockets hidden beneath cloth. Branch family shinobi. All Hyūga. All his kin.
Half the beds were still. Covered. Silent.
Hiashi’s chest tightened. He forced himself further inside, his Byakugan snapping open against his will, scouring the ward for familiar chakra.
There—
Kazou. The old veteran sat propped against a bedframe, one arm wrapped in thick bandages, the other gone entirely below the shoulder. His face was ash-pale, but his single visible eye still burned with the fire of a man who had clawed his way back from death.
And next to him—
Rikuto of the main family lay unconscious, chakra coils so depleted and swollen they looked cracked and broken in Hiashi’s sight. A medic stood over him, her hands glowing gently green as she slowly and carefully transfused medical chakra into his coils, but the boy did not stir.
“Where is Yuki?” Hiashi demanded.
Kazou’s head snapped up. For a moment the old jōnin said nothing, his lips pressed in a thin, bloodless line. Then his eye lowered. “…She didn’t make it.”
Hiashi froze. His whole body locked, as though the words themselves had struck him.
He couldn’t believe it… Yuki? Dead? No… that was impossible, with an entire team backing her? He had put half the elites of the branch family into her team… how could this be the result?
Hiashi staggered back a step. The room spun. His fingers dug into the wood of the bedframe until it cracked.
Gone?
“How? How did this happen?” He asked, mostly to himself.
Still, Kazou answered, his voice weak, filled with pain, shame, and loss. “We ran into Killer B of Kumo… Yuki ordered a full retreat… but… masked Anbu blocked us, Yuki called them Root. They blocked us, losing our chance to avoid confronting the Kumo team.”
Kazou coughed, blood staining his lips. “Even most of our losses were from them… attacking us as we retreated, the lives Yuki saved… lost because of them.”
Kazou’s voice cracked, his eye distant, fixed somewhere far beyond the blood-stained sheets. “She stayed behind. Faced him alone. Fought like a demon, even as the rest of us… even as I…” His remaining hand trembled against the bedding. “If not for her, I would never have dragged Rikuto this far. None of us would have left that forest alive.”
Hiashi said nothing. Could say nothing. His throat was stone, his tongue ash. He stood there, rigid as a statue, while the words sank like knives into his chest.
Yuki — the woman who stood beside him, argued with him, teased him, loved him — throwing herself into the teeth of a jinchūriki so that others might crawl home.
Even most of our losses were from ROOT.
He knew them, likely one of the few who did; Yuki, too, had clearly heard about them. A secret branch of Anbu, meant to deal with secret missions that couldn’t be traced back to the village.
He knew they did shady stuff… but to move against Konoha shinobi? That was beyond anything he had expected… likely only a few people even knew about it. He looked at the two wounded survivors.
Part of him hated them… hated that they lived, while Yuki died.
“Hiashi-sama…” Kazou’s voice broke again. “It should have been me. I should have—”
“Enough.” Hiashi’s voice was quiet, flat, but it silenced the room like a blade at the throat. “You did what you could. You survived, and you brought Rikuto back. That is what matters.”
He spoke not just to Kazou, but also to himself. Yuki gave her life to spare them, to save them, to protect her clan, her family… he had to honor that.
His hands were shaking, he wanted nothing more than to scream, to shout, to roar, and to cry… he felt dead inside, but he had a job to do. Yuki would have wanted that.
“Medic!” he shouted loudly, the one treating Rikuto almost lost her focus from the shock. “What is it Hyūga-sama? She asked.
Hiashi ignored her, and waited until another came running.
“Is there a problem here?” the doctor asked as he entered.
“Yes, I need someone to send a message to the Hyūga clan. I need these people transferred to the clan for care.” Hiashi’s voice was so cold that the doctor couldn’t help but take half a step back in pure fear.
The medic blinked, confused. “Transferred? Hyūga-sama, they need intensive chakra therapy, we can stabilize them here—”
“They are stable enough to be moved,” Hiashi cut in, every word an icicle. His eyes glowed faintly, veins bulging as the Byakugan flared in open threat. “The Hyūga clan will take care of their treatment. I just need you to send someone to help inform the clan of my decision. Until then, I will stay here to protect them.”
The doctor swallowed, throat bobbing. He clearly didn’t like the unsaid implication that the Hyūga clan didn’t trust them. But he couldn’t bring himself to speak up, in the end, he just nodded and fled the room.
Unwilling to stay there any longer under the cold watch of those Byakugan.
Hiashi turned his gaze on the medic still treating Rikuto. “Make him stable enough to transfer, and don’t try anything, I’m watching you.” And he was, he kept his Byakugan active to watch out for any threats.
His belief in Konoha having reached a freezing point, now more than ever, he felt they needed a new Hokage.
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Tsume Inuzuka sat at her desk with far too much paperwork before her. She wanted nothing more than to just rip it all apart and do something more fun… but she couldn’t, this work had to be done, and she was the only one who could do it.
Mostly because she didn’t have anyone she could throw it at.
There wasn’t one person in the clan who wasn’t a complete knucklehead, so she had to deal with everything herself.
Taking another report, she skimmed through it. “A commotion at the hospital?” She couldn’t help but exclaim. The hospital was a very important place, making a commotion there wasn’t something taken lightly.
“And the Hyūga clan at that? This isn’t like them at all…” she muttered as she kept reading. “Wait… it was Hiashi?” She suddenly had a bad feeling.
Honestly, she didn’t know what to think about him. On one hand, she didn’t care much for the Hyūga clan; most of them were stuck-up assholes, and the rest were meek slaves. But she did like Yuki.
And that was really why she wasn’t sure what to think about Hiashi, after all, his girl was very much involved with one of her mutts… should she feel pity for him? Or something else?
But despite that, everything she knew about him told her that he wasn’t the type to cause some public scene. With a bad feeling, she quickly started looking through other reports she hadn’t yet reached.
Her hands were shaking as she found one detailing deaths; this was the most recent one. As she read through the names, she quickly found a block of Hyūga clan members. Name by name she read, until she froze, the name she feared to find… it was there, black on white.
Hyūga Yuki: Rank – Jōnin: Status: Deceased in the line of duty.
Yuki was one of her closest friends… one she could joke with openly, one who was close to her clan, fitting right in… and now… dead…
“Fuck…” she cursed, “Fuck fuck fuck!” She ripped the report into countless pieces, but it did nothing to calm her rage, her loss, her pain.
“Tsume, what's wrong?” Kuromaru had been alerted by her loud shouts and came running.
“Urgh,” Tsume threw herself back into her chair. “It's Yuki… she’s dead.” Saying it made it feel all the more real… more final.
Kuromaru stopped short, his paws scraping against the floorboards. For once, the big hound didn’t bark or bite back with a joke. He just lowered his head, ears flattening, eyes dark.
“She was one of us,” Kuromaru said finally, voice low, almost human in its weight.
Tsume pressed her palms over her face, dragging them down until her nails bit into her skin. “Damn right she was.” Her voice cracked, a sound she hated. “She was one of the few people who could walk in here, laugh at me, and walk out alive.”
Her fist slammed the desk hard enough to rattle the ink pots. “And now she’s gone.”
She stood abruptly, chair skidding back. She couldn’t sit here buried under paper while her chest was burning like this. Her clan would hear soon enough, but Koji… Koji needed to know. He deserved to know from her, not from some cold report stamped with the Hokage’s seal.
“Come on,” she muttered, already grabbing her jacket from the back of the chair. “We’re going to Koji.”
