Meanwhile, Kimimaro eventually let Emi 'breathe,' a little again, his gaze shifting away from her as he refocused on Ashina's voice inside the pendant.
"So this is why you were so fixated, Kimimaro. I wondered why you grew so eager the moment you sensed a Hyūga girl nearby. I never thought that much about that clan in my life. But seeing this one up close… I begin to understand a bit."
Through the pendant, Ashina previously extended his sense toward Emi.
Her chakra, her Byakugan, and above all, the intricate seal etched into her forehead.
Even for him, who stood at the absolute peak of fūinjutsu, it was baffling, to say the least, at first glance.
"That mark… it is no ordinary brand. It suppresses her dōjutsu and her potential both. And yet its construction—hm. It is beyond complicated, almost alien. It weaves through the optic nerves, connects to the brain, and from there, binds not just the body but the soul itself. To tamper with it would be to cut into that very bridge where spirit and flesh meet."
Kimimaro's lips curved faintly, but his reply was dry. "So, there really is no way to break it? Disappointing."
Ashina chuckled darkly. "You sound almost sentimental. Don't tell me you pity her?"
Kimimaro shook his head. "Sentiment has nothing to do with it. If I can't free her eyes, then I can't steal them myself either, due to that self-destructive built-in feature. That's why I care."
Of course, Kimimaro thought that he was no simp to care for others for no reason as soon as they met, just because they were a bit attractive and could act coy.
Ashina hummed, considering. "If I dedicated myself for a decade or more, perhaps, I could unravel it to an extent. But it would demand study in soulcraft, human biology, and sealing at the same time. Hardly worth the effort when there are other powers to chase."
Kimimaro's tone sharpened. "You're wrong. It is worth it. Look at her. Even suppressed, she's already mid-chūnin level secretly at this age. What do you think she'd be without that brand throttling her? And it's not just her. Nearly ninety percent of the Hyūga live shackled like this. What would they become, freed of it?"
For the first time, Ashina faltered. His mental presence widened, eyes widening in thought.
"…I see. You mean the entire clan is caged deliberately. Their strength is hidden, wasted. That… is not ordinary. If a clan with eyes like these willingly chains itself so completely, then yes, there must be a deeper secret, and a true backup, maybe even a hidden well of power."
His thirst for knowledge flared, twined with his ancient grudge.
"Very well. You've convinced me. I will study the seal as much as possible. Even if we cannot solve it soon, any progress is progress. A key like this may yet open something greater."
Kimimaro exhaled quietly, satisfied.
"Then we are agreed."
It was a pretty well-known fact that the Hyūga branch family members were branded with the Caged Bird Seal in very early childhood.
During the most critical stages of their growth and development, that cursed seal actively constrained the Byakugan's function.
To claim it left no mark on their bodies was absurd.
Anyone with a shred of sense could see that something imposed so early, so invasively, was bound to shape them in ways the clan preferred not to acknowledge.
This wasn't just about imperfection in shape or size, but a deeper level of deformity: the density of the optic nerve, the speed of chakra transmission, chakra utilization, and similar.
And inevitably, that cursed seal crippled the Hyūga's potential as a whole.
The main branch, spared the seal's deformities, were decadent and sheltered, confined almost entirely within the compound.
Protected, preserved, stagnant.
With no pressure to adapt and no incentive to innovate, why would they ever improve beyond what tradition handed them?
The branch family had it worse.
They were slaves in everything but name, restrained both physically and psychologically from early childhood.
Creativity was dangerous. Initiative was punished. Under those conditions, innovation wasn't just unlikely, it was impossible.
Only that could explain the absurd outcome.
A clan gifted with near-perfect vision reduced to using them for nothing but Gentle Fist.
No serious integration with the medical arts, despite being perfectly suited for it.
No exploration of ninjutsu synergy, shape transformation, or precision chakra manipulation beyond a single taijutsu doctrine.
They had been handed one of the most versatile tools in the world.
And then taught, systematically, never to ask what else it could do.
For example, if they had ever developed the Byakugan to its full potential, why would they need to fear anyone stealing it in the first place?
Even if it was coveted due to its stability, unlike the Sharingan.
It was impossible that before the Caged Bird Seal was even created, and across the centuries that followed, no one had noticed all of this waste.
Which meant the ignorance was deliberate.
Whatever the Hyūga told themselves about the seal, whatever justification they clung to, it must have been meant to offset something worse and unknown in their minds.
To them, the damage was acceptable. Necessary.
Or that they were gaining some other tradeoff from it instead.
All of that, in any case, meant the Hyūga were hiding something massive.
The torture command may have been a hijacking of power by the elite of the time, but the seal itself was far too deliberate, too meticulously designed for that explanation to stand on its own.
Something this refined couldn't have existed without broad cooperation.
Which meant the clan, as a whole, had contributed to it.
And agreed to it.
The two fell silent, their thoughts running along the same path: the Hyūga were not merely a proud clan with strange traditions.
They were sitting atop something far more dangerous, and now they had an angle to pry.
In fact, the reason Kimimaro coveted the Byakugan so fiercely went beyond its surface perks of enhanced clarity, visual processing speed, and the three famous 'supernatural' avenues of vision, 360 degrees, telescopic, and x-ray.
It was the X-ray that called to him most.
But, not in the shallow way most shinobi dreamed of using it, to see through walls, to stalk enemies, or to land precise Gentle Fist strikes as the original owners mostly did with it, only foolishly. No, Kimimaro's obsession was inward.
What could it show him of his own body?
Where, exactly, did those Eight Inner Gates lie, the very targets he hammered himself toward every day, step by brutal step?
They weren't just vague "energy points."
They were woven into the chakra pathway system itself, buried in the flesh, the joints, the spine, the brain.
To glimpse them with Byakugan clarity would cut months, even years, off his progress.
And not just that.
He imagined that if he also wanted to dabble in the crooked "science" of this world, the kind of research that had warped Hashirama's cells, the experiments that bred monsters in hidden labs, he would definitely need Byakugan to help him run something similar himself.
That's if he wanted to reach something while he was still young and when it mattered.
Also, with the Byakugan dissecting his inner form, he could better refine his Shikotsumyaku past the crude degeneration of his clan.
With Byakugan of his own, replacing his original eyes, perhaps he could eventually even push his bloodline toward something greater, even into the realm of Hamura's full, lost genetic heritage, and that amazing dojutsu.
Kimimaro always wondered how far his bones would sing if paired with that Sage Eyes part of the equation, of Hamura's branch.
To him, in general, the Byakugan was not merely useful; it was criminally underrated, left to rot in the hands of a stagnant clan.
After all, the main family rarely left the compound except during wars or similarly extreme circumstances.
And even then, their small numbers and heavy protection made capturing them alive, or even locating them with certainty, nearly impossible.
Tracking, let alone killing, a master of long-range reconnaissance would come at an exorbitant cost.
That was why the Byakugan was treated like a diamond.
That was why, when he first sensed it fall into his reach, his pulse had sharpened in triumph.
For him, even the Side Branch member was a jackpot now.
Even if Ashina could not strip the curse mark and free those eyes for him directly, he could still 'use them externally', through the girl herself, in the future.
Whether she liked it, at first, or not.
She was interesting, resilient, and useful.
That was enough.
And in time, he could run tests on her as well. Not merely keep her as the main 'assistant' to his broader research, but shape her into a living prototype, for what he intended, one day, to claim for himself.
One day, he promised in silence, he would raze the Hyūga's Main Branch to the ground, if needed, and pluck a pure Byakugan from their skulls, and 'ascend' to those demigod levels more easily than fate ever intended.
For now, though, he accepted Ashina's verdict.
The seal could not be broken by him soon.
But that didn't matter.
Because he had already gained a stepping stone toward it, at least.
Eventually, the march ended at a half-buried shrine carved into the hillside of a valley, moss and roots choking its broken stone.
The entrance yawned dark, like the throat of something long dead.
Heat and damp air spilled out, tinged with copper and ash.
Emi's Byakugan caught flickers of the tunnels beyond, narrow stone veins branching out, fire pits smoldering, shadows moving.
The cultists broke rank naturally, drifting into their accustomed roles.
To them, this was home.
Her lips parted slightly as if in awe.
She let her eyes wander over the crude bloodstains, the carved Jashin symbols, the makeshift chambers.
"So this is… where you live?" she asked softly, voice calm, curious, perfectly obedient, as if she were merely a guest entering her host's strange house.
But inside, her thoughts coiled sharp as knives.
'This place simply reeks of lunacy. A hole in the dirt and they swagger like kings. And he, walking ahead, smug, calm, like a demon who owns the world. I wish I could sink my teeth into that flawless, smug little face until he screamed. I could eat him alive, bone first.'
Still, she let her head tilt just slightly, letting her hair fall into place, presenting the image of a well-behaved girl absorbing the scene. "It's… different than I expected," she added quietly, the words practiced to sound harmless.
Inside her skull, the voice was different. 'Different? No. It's worse. A nest of carrion crows. And I've flown straight into it. But if they think I'll break and grovel, they've never met a Hyūga with a reason to smile while planning murder.'
She walked a half-step behind Kimimaro, eyes lowered just enough to look compliant, but not so much as to seem broken. Every gesture played the part.
'Stay curious, stay small,' she told herself. 'Let them underestimate you. Let him smirk. The longer his guard is down, the deeper my fangs will go when I finally bite.'
Saya leaned against the wall near the entrance, scythe shaft resting across her shoulders, lips twisted into a grin.
Her eyes raked over Emi like a butcher weighing meat.
"Well, well," she drawled, voice sharp with mockery.
"Another pretty face dropped in our lap. You play meek well, Hyūga, I'll give you that."
Her grin widened, eyes gleaming with something half-amused, half-cruel. "But be careful. He doesn't like dolls. He likes tools. If you're weak, you'll just snap. If you're useful, maybe you'll last long enough to start smiling for real."
Reika, as ever, was cooler. She stood with arms crossed, eyes scanning Emi with that calm, detached precision. No smirk, no mockery, just clinical observation. "She's clever," Reika said simply, voice low. "I can tell she's already playing a role. But if she wants to survive here, pretending won't be enough. She'll need to produce results."
Kimimaro himself finally turned to Emi, the weight of his presence pressing down on her in a way no words could soften.
His tone was even, calm, almost matter-of-fact.
"You'll wear suppression seals," he said, producing a folded strip of parchment inked with Uzumaki patterns.
"You don't get a choice. You haven't earned trust. But if you behave… if you prove your value… one day you might walk freely, as Saya currently does."
He glanced toward Saya then, as if to remind her.
Saya's grin twitched into something more complicated.
For a moment, her eyes softened, memories of her own capture flashing unbidden.
The day she'd been dragged down, broken, and rebuilt under his gaze.
She sighed, almost theatrically, then turned her sharp smile back on Emi.
"It's true. I was in your place once. Cursed, snarling, fighting the leash. Now I stand here. Alive. Stronger. Freer than I ever was before."
She tapped the blunt side of her scythe against the floor.
"So don't pout, Hyūga. Take the seal. Call it a chain if you want, but chains can turn into armor if you know how to wear them."
Her grin stretched wider, wolfish. "And if you don't? Well… then you'll just bleed faster."
Kimimaro said nothing more.
He only held the suppression seal out, his eyes fixed on Emi with patient intensity, waiting to see how she would react.
Emi's gaze flicked from the seal in Kimimaro's hand to Saya's mocking grin, then to Reika's cool, appraising eyes.
Her lips parted in a small, obedient smile, just the right amount of timid.
"…I understand," she said softly, bowing her head just enough. "If this is the rule here, then I'll follow it. I won't cause problems."
Her voice was smooth, almost demure, every syllable designed to sound pliant.
But inside, her teeth ground together.
'You smug bastard. Making me bow like some weakling dog. One day, I'll shove those seals down your throat. One day I'll wipe that calm look off your almost perfect face and laugh while you choke on it.'
She reached out and took the seal between two fingers, careful not to let the faint tremor in her hand show as anything more than nerves.
Her eyes were tracing the ink lines, studying, memorizing, every detail of the cage they meant to wrap her in.
Kimimaro's gaze never wavered, as though he could see right through her.
He gave no smile, no approval.
Only a slight nod, as if her compliance was not worth praise, merely the expected outcome.
Saya chuckled low, tilting her head at Emi. "Good girl. That's how it starts."
Reika's eyes lingered a moment longer, then she turned away, already done with the scene.
Kimimaro turned from Emi at last, voice carrying flat across the chamber. "Rest. Recover."
The cultists muttered their chants, their morale stitched back together with promises of power.
Emi stood there in the dim light, seal clutched in her hand, her face calm, her smile faint.
Inside, her thoughts hissed and clawed, burning holes into the dark.
'Fine. I'll play along. I'll let you think I'm tame. But one day, Kimimaro… I'll bite that smug head to pieces and savor every bone.'
And with that, another night closed on the main Jashinism cult hideout, its silence deep.