Hinata: Byakurenden
From Dawn to Dusk
Tayuya followed Konan across the bridge, her sharp eyes darting to the endless line of worshippers awaiting their turn to see Amaterasu. Each person radiated a mix of awe and fervor, their faces glowing with an unsettling devotion. It all seemed like nonsense to her, like the same cultish fanaticism she had witnessed in the Sound Village under Orochimaru's thrall. That thought alone was enough to sour her mood, her lips curling into a faint sneer.
It wasn't until her eyes landed on one particular figure in the line that she froze. The man was older, his clothing unmistakable: the uniform of a Sound Village operative. Her sneer faltered, her mind racing. What the hell was he doing here?
Her gaze snapped back to the line, scanning more carefully this time. She began to notice others. A man with the distinct tattoos of the Grass Village. A woman dressed in the vibrant colors of the Waterfall. Here and there were representatives from various minor nations, their clothing and appearances distinct enough for her to identify. It was as if the entire line were a cross-section of every lesser power in the shinobi world.
"This is nuts…" she muttered under her breath, her disbelief creeping into her voice. The sheer scale of what was happening here was staggering. This wasn't just a city under Amaterasu's control. This was a movement. One that had already united the minor nations in ways they had never managed on their own.
This problem was far larger than she had initially assumed. Tayuya's stomach churned as she pieced together the implications of what she was seeing. If this many minor nations—scattered, divided, and historically insignificant in the grand balance of power—had banded together under one unified religion, they were no longer just fragmented factions. They were a collective force. Their combined strength, fueled by unwavering devotion, could easily rival that of any of the Five Great Nations.
It wasn't just a movement; it was the birth of a sixth great superpower.
The sheer speed of it all was staggering. In a mere two years since Amaterasu had been brought into their world, this religious empire had risen from the ashes of the Rain Village, spreading her influence like wildfire across the smaller nations. What once were independent lands—each vying for survival amidst the chaos of shinobi wars—were now unified under a single banner. The sun goddess had done in two years what the five great Kage could not accomplish in generations.
And that power wasn't just military or economic; it was ideological. These weren't mercenaries or shinobi alliances that could be broken with the right bribe or betrayal. These were zealots, their faith a weapon sharper than any kunai. It wasn't just their strength in numbers that terrified Tayuya—it was their conviction. They believed, with every fiber of their being, that Amaterasu was their salvation. That kind of loyalty wasn't easily shaken. If this was what two years had wrought, she dreaded to imagine what five or ten would bring.
She stole a glance at Konan, who was leading her further away from the throne room. The blue-haired woman seemed unbothered, her posture as calm and composed as ever. Yet something about her stood out to Tayuya—unlike the rest of the city, Konan didn't smile. Not once.
"Is something the matter?" Konan's voice was measured, but her sharp orange eyes flicked toward Tayuya, clearly noticing her momentary pause. There was suspicion in her gaze, as if she were constantly assessing for weaknesses or threats.
"Yeah, you could say that." Tayuya decided to probe, her tone casual as she gestured vaguely toward the crowd. "I just can't wrap my head around this. You're telling me everyone here is on board with this whole goddess thing? No resistance? No one pissed off about some stranger showing up and taking over?"
Konan's expression remained stoic, but there was a slight pause before she responded. "And if there were dissenters," she said as they entered the elevator, her tone cool but firm, "why would I tell you, our enemy, of such a weakness you could exploit?"
The non-denial set off alarm bells in Tayuya's mind. So there was resistance. Her lips twitched into a smirk, but she kept her tone light. "Touché. Guess I wouldn't spill the beans either. But you don't exactly strike me as the happy-go-lucky type like the rest of these people. If I didn't know better, I'd think you were one of them."
Konan's gaze sharpened, her orange eyes narrowing as the elevator doors slid shut, sealing them in. The muffled chanting from outside faded, replaced by a tense silence that seemed to press against the walls of the small metal box. The air shifted subtly, growing heavier, as if Konan's very presence was exerting an unseen pressure.
"Do not insult me by placing me on the same level as the common worshippers," she snapped, her voice low and razor-sharp. It cut through the stillness like a kunai, the restrained fury behind her words palpable. Her usually calm demeanor cracked, revealing the depth of her indignation.
Tayuya raised an eyebrow, leaning back against the wall with exaggerated nonchalance. "Touchy, aren't we?" she said, her tone flippant, but her eyes cautiously studying Konan. "I didn't mean anything by it. You just seem… different."
Konan's jaw clenched, her hands balling into fists at her sides. For a moment, it looked like she might lash out, but then she took a measured breath, visibly forcing herself to calm down. When she spoke again, her voice carried a fervor that was almost unnerving, her anger now channeled into something far more intense.
"Amaterasu-sama has bestowed upon me power beyond anything I could have dreamed of," Konan said, her words thick with reverence. "I was once an angel with naught but paper wings, fragile and at the mercy of the winds. But now, I am her herald, a vessel for her divine will, molded by her light and entrusted with spreading her gospel to the corners of this broken world." Her voice rose slightly, the sheer conviction in her tone filling the space around them, making the elevator feel smaller than it already was. Her eyes gleamed, burning with a zeal that bordered on fanatical.
Tayuya crossed her arms, her smirk still in place but her thoughts racing. "Alright, alright," she said, holding her hands up in mock surrender, her voice carefully casual. "No need to go full zealot on me. I get it, you're the goddess's favorite toy."
Konan's gaze hardened further, but she said nothing, her silence far more intimidating than any retort. Tayuya could feel the weight of her devotion, oppressive and unwavering, and it sent a shiver down her spine. This woman wasn't just a follower, Tayuya thought, her smirk fading slightly. She was a weapon, and one that had been sharpened to perfection.
The elevator jolted slightly as it began to descend, but the tension in the air only grew heavier. Tayuya had pushed Konan's buttons, but in doing so, she'd glimpsed something terrifying—a glimpse of what true, unshakable belief could create.
As the elevator continued its journey downward, Tayuya caught a glimpse of the outside of the window. Her breath caught in her throat at the sight. Below the bridge leading to the temple stretched on endlessly, and the people she had seen earlier—the devotees waiting for their chance to bask in Amaterasu's presence—weren't standing in orderly lines. They were climbing.
The stairs that spiraled up the towering skyscrapers were unimaginably steep, clinging to the sides of buildings so tall they seemed to pierce the heavens themselves. It wasn't just one set of stairs, but countless paths winding their way upward in a labyrinthine network, each more treacherous than the last. The structures themselves were slick with condensation, the wooden platforms glinting dangerously under the unrelenting sunlight. Yet, despite the peril, the faithful climbed.
There were no railings, no safety nets—just the endless ascent toward their goddess. She saw families, the elderly, even small children clutching at their parents' robes, dragging themselves up step by agonizing step. Their faces were a mix of exhaustion and fervent determination, their voices still murmuring prayers even as their bodies trembled with the effort.
Tayuya's lips curled in a sneer, though a pit of unease formed in her stomach. This was insane, she thought, unable to look away from the scene. She'd seen devotion before, but nothing like this. The sheer desperation etched into their faces was a different kind of madness. And yet, the faithful ascended, willingly offering every ounce of their strength, sweat, and tears to reach the feet of the goddess they worshiped.
"That's their final test," Konan's voice broke the silence, her tone unreadable. Tayuya glanced at her sharply, noting how Konan's orange eyes didn't meet her own. Instead, the blue-haired woman gazed steadily at the climbing masses. "Those deemed worthy reach the temple. Those who fall… well, they return to the water below and are reclaimed by it. Such is the cycle."
"Are you serious?" Tayuya asked, her voice a mixture of disbelief and disgust. "You're telling me these people risk their lives for a chance to kneel in front of her?"
"They do so willingly," Konan replied simply, her tone detached, as though discussing an unavoidable fact of nature. "Faith must be proven, not merely claimed."
Tayuya's hands clenched into fists as the elevator jolted to a stop, her knuckles white against her trembling skin. Her sneer deepened, a wave of anger washing over her at the sight of the needless suffering. But before she could voice another word, the elevator doors slid open—not to the outside, but to a dimly lit interior. The door opposite the one they had entered revealed the sprawling horrors of a familiar laboratory.
The room was a grotesque symphony of unnatural science. Scrolls and sealing tools were scattered haphazardly across workbenches, glowing faintly with ominous chakra. Intricate seals were painted on every available surface, pulsating with an unsettling rhythm. Among the tools and machinery were jars and trays filled with body parts—severed hands, feet, and other appendages—each grotesquely alive. A jar filled with fingers and toes sat on one counter, the digits writhing and crawling over one another as if desperately seeking escape. On another table, a heart throbbed sluggishly in a shallow dish, pumping no blood yet pulsing with dreadful vitality. The air was thick with the sickly scent of antiseptic and decay, mingling to create a cloying, oppressive atmosphere.
Tayuya's fists clenched, the bile rising in her throat as memories of her past resurfaced. This wasn't just similar to Orochimaru's lair in the Sound Village—this was practically its twin. Her mind was flooded with images of experiments, mutilated corpses, and her mother's lifeless body lying at the feet of the man who had orchestrated it all.
The far door creaked open, and the architect of this hellish place stepped inside, his nose buried in a report. At the sight of him, Tayuya's blood boiled. Orochimaru was unchanged—his snake-like eyes gleaming with a sinister intelligence, his pale skin almost translucent under the dim lighting. He wore a pristine lab coat, his long black hair tied neatly in a ponytail. It was as if no time had passed since the day he had murdered her mother.
"Ah, dear Konan," Orochimaru greeted casually, glancing up from his report. His voice was smooth, too casual for the horrors surrounding them. His eyes flicked to Tayuya, a serpentine smile curling his lips. "And a familiar face I haven't seen in quite some time. How are you, Tayuya-chan?"
"Don't 'how are you' me, you bastard!" Tayuya roared, her chakra flaring violently. The air around her grew heavy as the power of the three Doki swelled within her. Her horns emerged, curling wickedly from her head as Sage Mode took hold. The transformation was instant, her body surging with strength and natural energy as she crossed the distance between them in a heartbeat, her fist aimed directly at Orochimaru's smug face.
Orochimaru didn't flinch. He stood perfectly still, his smile unwavering as though he were watching a child throw a tantrum. Before Tayuya's fist could connect, a blur of golden light intercepted her.
"Please refrain from violence while in the village," Konan's voice was calm but carried an undeniable authority. Her hand had caught Tayuya's fist effortlessly, halting the full force of the blow powered by Sage Mode and the monstrous strength of the Doki. Tayuya's eyes widened in disbelief.
Konan's transformation was breathtaking and terrifying. Wings of radiant, golden light unfurled from her back, pulsating faintly with power. Above her head, a spinning halo of the same light glowed, casting an ethereal brilliance over her sharp features. She stood tall and unyielding, the very image of a divine avenger. With one flap of her glowing wings, she had covered the room's length faster than even Tayuya could register.
"Outta my way," Tayuya growled, yanking her arm free and stepping back. But Konan was relentless. Before Tayuya could even blink, Konan had closed the distance once more, her lips brushing close to Tayuya's ear as she whispered, her voice low and chilling.
"I've given you your one and only warning," Konan murmured, her tone so cold and precise it sent shivers racing down Tayuya's spine. "Further acts of violence will be met in kind. And if you die, what do you think the White Lotus will have to do?"
Tayuya froze, the implication clear. She clenched her teeth, weighing her hatred against the promise she had made to her mother. Even if she managed to kill Orochimaru, she would never survive the aftermath. And worse, Hinata would be dragged into it, forced to fight her way out.
"Fine, I get it already. Sorry," Tayuya muttered bitterly, stepping back once more. She rubbed at her ear, glaring daggers at Konan but making no further move. Konan remained as still and imposing as a marble statue, her golden wings glowing faintly behind her.
Orochimaru chuckled softly, the sound infuriatingly smug as he returned to his notes. "My, my, such fire. It's good to see you haven't lost your edge, Tayuya-chan."
Konan's gaze shifted to Orochimaru, silencing him with a glance before turning back to Tayuya. "Do not test me again," she said simply, her voice cold as steel. Then, with a faint rustle of her wings, she stepped aside, allowing Tayuya to seethe in silence as the oppressive atmosphere lingered.
Orochimaru cackled to himself, his voice echoing off the metal walls of the lab as he slithered around the two women. His excitement was palpable, an unsettling energy that made Tayuya's skin crawl. He moved to a desk cluttered with papers, tools, and jars of unnatural substances, picking up a scroll with an almost reverent air. "You've arrived just in time, Konan," he said, gesturing toward a heart beating rhythmically on a silver tray. "I believe I've made a breakthrough, thanks to the tireless efforts of our… guest."
"You mean to say that you can complete the procedure before the birth?" Konan asked, her sharp gaze betraying a flicker of emotion—anticipation, perhaps, or something more profound. It was fleeting, but Tayuya caught it.
"It will be close, but yes," Orochimaru replied, unfurling the scroll and handing it over to Konan. "I am confident I can perform the transference during the solar eclipse. Timing will be absolutely critical. The alignment of the sun and moon is a rare event, a cosmic fulcrum that will allow us to bridge the mortal and divine realms seamlessly. Obito, of course, will have his role to play. The twins—Amaterasu-sama's demigod children—will not simply be born as mortals. No, they will carry within them the essence of gods."
"What the hell are you all talking about?" Tayuya demanded, her voice sharp and cutting through the growing tension. She hated being in the dark, and the cryptic conversation grated against her nerves. If they were going to drag her into this madness, they could at least explain it properly.
Orochimaru turned toward her, his pale face lit with an almost childlike glee. He slid the tray with the still-beating heart closer to her, forcing her to instinctively step back. "Ah, I thought you might ask! Allow me to educate you," he said, his voice practically dripping with mockery and condescension. "This," he gestured to the heart, "is the heart of Hidan. Now, tell me—how do you think it's still beating?"
"The hell should I know?" Tayuya snapped, her fists clenching. Orochimaru's insufferable tone was already setting her on edge.
"That's what made it so fascinating," Orochimaru said, his voice trembling with excitement as though he had uncovered the secrets of the universe. His slender fingers, pale and steady, picked up a scalpel with the care of an artist selecting a brush. Without hesitation, he plunged the sharp blade into the center of the pulsating heart.
The reaction was immediate and grotesque. The heart shuddered violently, contracting as if in pain, and from the wound seeped an oozing, black smoke. The dark tendrils coiled and writhed like living things, their movements sinuous and unnatural. The smoke hissed with an almost malevolent sound, a grotesque sizzle that seemed to echo in the air around them. The scalpel quivered, trembling as if repelled by an unseen force, before it was expelled with a metallic clang, clattering onto the tray below.
The wound didn't bleed. Instead, the edges of the incision bubbled and pulsed, the dark smoke retreating back into the heart as if it had a mind of its own. The torn tissue began to knit itself together in slow, deliberate movements, each fiber reconnecting with a grotesque precision that defied the laws of nature. Within seconds, the heart appeared untouched, beating steadily once again, as if mocking the intrusion.
Orochimaru's golden eyes gleamed with an unsettling light, his expression a twisted blend of admiration and obsession. "Do you see that?" he exclaimed, his voice rising with exhilaration. His enthusiasm was almost infectious, but the scene was so viscerally horrifying that even the bravest onlooker would have felt their stomach churn.
Tayuya swallowed hard, her hands curling into fists at her sides as a wave of nausea threatened to overtake her. The smell of the black smoke lingered in the air, a cloying, acrid stench that burned her nostrils. It was as if death itself had been given a form, lingering in the room as a tangible presence. The sight of the heart, now eerily pristine once more, only deepened her sense of revulsion.
Konan frowned, her earlier anticipation replaced with cold skepticism. "See what exactly?"
"Hidan's so-called immortality isn't simply the result of some ritual or curse," Orochimaru explained, speaking faster now, as if his thoughts could barely keep up with his mouth. "Through my research, I've come to understand that Hidan's heart serves as a vessel—an anchor, if you will—for the essence of the god Jashin. The black smoke you see? That's divine energy, raw and unfiltered. Somehow, Hidan performed a ritual so profound that it tethered a piece of Jashin's power to this organ, granting him immortality."
Tayuya felt a wave of nausea wash over her. "So what? You're trying to recreate Hidan's freaky god experiment?"
Orochimaru's smile grew even wider, as if her revulsion only fueled his enthusiasm. "Not quite. I can't replicate Hidan's ritual, but I've developed a method to achieve something far greater. By combining my Living Corpse Reincarnation technique with Obito's Kamui, and aligning it with the celestial power of the solar eclipse, we can achieve a perfect transference."
Konan's grip on the scroll tightened. "You mean the souls of Susanō and Tsukuyomi," she said, her voice low and measured.
"Exactly!" Orochimaru crowed, spreading his arms wide as if unveiling the grandest of treasures. "Amaterasu-sama has long sought to reunite with her god brothers, Susanoo and Tsukuyomi. And during the solar eclipse—a moment when the sun, moon, and earth align perfectly—we can pull their divine energies into this world and bind them to physical vessels. Amaterasu's twins, her demigod children, will house the souls of her brothers."
Tayuya's stomach churned as she processed his words. "You're seriously planning to shove the souls of gods into newborns? That's your big idea?"
"More than an idea, my dear," Orochimaru replied, his tone almost patronizing. "It's the ultimate act of creation. With Susanoo and Tsukuyomi reborn as her children, Amaterasu-sama will finally have the family she deserves. Together, they will reshape this broken world into her perfect paradise."
"And what happens if they refuse? If they reject their role in this… this experiment?" Tayuya asked, her voice trembling with a mix of rage and horror.
"They won't," Konan interjected, her tone flat and final. "They are divine beings, and their will aligns with Amaterasu-sama's. They will accept their destiny, as all must."
Orochimaru leaned closer to Tayuya, his golden eyes gleaming with malice. "You should consider yourself fortunate, Tayuya-chan. You're witnessing the birth of a new pantheon. A new world order. And unlike those who grovel outside, you'll have a front-row seat."
The day had seemed to stretch on endlessly. It was almost as if Amaterasu herself had the ability to slow the rotation of the planet, keeping the sun lingering high in the sky far longer than it should have. Hinata knew such an idea was absurd—surely, even a goddess couldn't wield that kind of power. But with how interminable this day felt, she wouldn't have been surprised if it were true.
The morning had been consumed by the endless line of worshippers filing into the temple, each one bowing low, their voices trembling with reverence as they praised Amaterasu for the gift of sunlight. Despite the sheer volume of supplicants, only half of those who had lined up managed to speak before the temple bells chimed, signaling the time for the midday meal. The massive double doors were closed, leaving the remaining devotees outside to continue their prayers.
A grandiose lunch was then brought into the hall. The sheer scale and variety of food were overwhelming, as though the entire world had been harvested to cater to this single meal. Every delicacy Hinata could imagine—and many she had never even seen before—was spread across the table. She couldn't deny her hunger, the toll of the previous night's battle finally catching up to her. Tayuya returned with Konan for the meal, looking as tense as Hinata felt, but neither could resist the allure of the feast.
Despite herself, Hinata marveled at the flavors of dishes she had never experienced before. Freshly grilled fish from the Land of Water, richly spiced dishes from the Land of Wind, and even warm, savory dumplings that reminded her of home. If there was one complaint to be made, it was that there was far too much food for even the hungriest group to finish. Just as Hinata began to feel uneasy about the waste such excess might produce, Obito casually ordered that all leftovers be sent down to the bottom level of the village to feed the hungry. The gesture felt genuine, though it did little to erase Hinata's discomfort.
After the meal, Hinata and Tayuya found themselves once again in Obito's care, joining him on his rounds through the city. Together, they visited numerous shrines scattered across the layers of the village, each one bustling with activity. At some shrines, Obito officiated weddings, his voice solemn as he blessed couples under the sun's golden rays. At others, he blessed newborn children, gently placing his scarred hands on their foreheads as he whispered quiet prayers. These duties, he explained, were traditionally Amaterasu's to perform, but with her pregnancy so advanced, the responsibility had fallen to him.
Hinata observed it all with quiet fascination, unable to reconcile the Obito she had heard stories of—the man who had led Akatsuki and manipulated nations—with the man now smiling warmly at nervous brides and cooing softly at infants. There was an almost fatherly pride in his demeanor, as though he had taken the role of protector not just for Amaterasu but for the people of the village as well. Yet, that dissonance only deepened her unease.
As the sun began its slow descent, Obito led them back to the temple, their journey culminating in a side hall. Inside, a luxurious open-air bath awaited them. Steam curled lazily from the surface of the water, and the faint scent of herbs lingered in the air. How the water had been pumped all the way to the top of the skyscraper was beyond Hinata's understanding, but the sheer decadence of it left her momentarily speechless.
The bath itself was undeniably inviting, the warm water soothing her sore muscles as she sank into it. For a brief moment, she allowed herself to relax, letting the tension of the day melt away. Tayuya, too, seemed to relish the momentary respite, her usual sharp edges softened by the calming environment. Yet, as they sat in the bath, Tayuya finally broke the silence, her voice low and cautious.
"I need to tell you something," she said, leaning closer to Hinata. Her words came in a quiet rush, detailing what she had learned from Konan and Orochimaru. The mention of Susanoo and Tsukuyomi—two gods Hinata knew only from fragmented legends—was enough to make her heart sink. They weren't planning to summon these gods in the same manner as Amaterasu. Instead, their souls were to be transferred into the bodies of her newborn twins during the solar eclipse. Orochimaru believed this would give Amaterasu complete control over them, ensuring her dominance not just over her brothers but over the entire world.
Hinata listened in silence, her thoughts churning as she tried to process the enormity of the revelation. The implications were staggering. Amaterasu wasn't merely preparing for her own reign—she was constructing a dynasty, one that could span generations and cement her rule indefinitely.
When they left the bath, the two were escorted to a changing room, where ornate kimonos awaited them. The fabrics were rich and vibrant, dyed in shades of gold and crimson that seemed to shimmer in the light. As Hinata ran her fingers over the delicate embroidery, she knew this was no ordinary ceremony they were about to attend.
Her mind was a storm of thoughts and emotions as she sat down to meditate. This was her last chance to seek guidance, to find clarity amidst the chaos. She glanced at Tayuya, who nodded in understanding and moved to stand guard by the door. Closing her eyes, Hinata drew in a deep breath and began to center herself, slipping into the eight-trigrams dimension.
The tension in the eight-trigrams dimension was stifling, a storm brewing in the empty expanse between Hinata and Kali.
Kali hovered at the center of the Eight Trigrams, her figure framed by the glowing lines of the ancient seal beneath her feet. But the vision of Kali that emerged this time was far from the serene and untouchable shrine maiden Hinata had grown accustomed to.
Her long, dark hair, usually a river of silk cascading down her back, was wild and unruly, strands floating as if caught in an unseen storm. The delicate folds of her ceremonial robes hung unevenly, slightly askew, the once-perfect embroidery frayed at the edges. She looked as though she had stepped out of a battle rather than descended from the heavens, the faint traces of struggle lingering in the lines of her expression.
This was not and had never been Kali's true physical form, but a projection—a reflection born from the energy of the Eight Trigrams itself. And like ripples on water, the projection betrayed the state of her spirit. The cracks in her composure, subtle yet undeniable, distorted the image she projected. It was a rare glimpse behind her usual mask of poise—one that hinted at frayed emotions barely held in check.
Her Nichiren Byakugan glowed fiercely, piercing through the void as if trying to shake Hinata into action through sheer will. It wasn't just frustration that radiated from her—it was desperation, the urgency of a mentor watching their pupil hesitate on the precipice of destiny.
"I don't understand what you're hesitating for," Kali's voice rang out sharply, cutting through the silence like the crack of a whip. "There is never going to be a better chance than now to defeat her. If you don't, you know what will happen. You'll be facing three gods, not just one. Do you understand what that means? Three gods, Hinata. Not humans. Not shinobi. Gods."
Hinata felt her stomach twist, the weight of Kali's words pressing down on her like a mountain. But she held her ground, forcing herself to remain steady even as doubt churned within her. Her hands trembled at her sides, balling into tight fists. "Please, wait a moment," she said, her voice shaking but resolute. "I… I need time to process all of this. I don't understand what's happening, Kali. First, she's pregnant. Then I find out Obito-san is the father. And now, they're telling me she plans to turn her children into her brothers? It's too much all at once—I can't keep up."
Kali let out an exasperated sigh, running her hands through her wild hair as though trying to calm the storm inside her. "There's nothing to be confused about," she snapped, though her tone softened slightly as she saw the strain in Hinata's eyes. "Amaterasu has always envied my grandmother—envied Kaguya. She craves the same things Kaguya had: a family of her own, the undying devotion of an entire world. But Amaterasu is smarter. She won't make the same mistakes. She won't leave herself vulnerable. Instead of raising children who could one day challenge her power, she'll turn them into her brothers—or, at least, fragments of them."
Hinata blinked, her brows knitting tightly as she struggled to wrap her mind around the concept. "But why?" she asked, her voice rising slightly. "Why would she use her own children for that? Wouldn't it be easier to open another portal and bring her brothers here the same way she arrived?"
Kali shook her head, the glow of her Byakugan intensifying as her frustration boiled over. "Because that's not what she wants. She doesn't want them as equals, Hinata. Amaterasu doesn't share power. She never has, and she never will. Her brothers, Tsukuyomi and Susanoo, were threats to her dominance. Tsukuyomi is aloof, an outcast who kept to himself and wouldn't bow to her will. Susanoo, on the other hand, is a force of chaos—a war-mongering storm god who cares more for destruction than for any throne. They were uncontrollable, and Amaterasu won't risk bringing them into this world on their own terms."
Hinata's throat tightened. "Then why use her children?" she asked, her voice small but insistent.
"Because children are malleable," Kali explained, her tone sharp but with a trace of pity for Hinata's confusion. "By using them as vessels, Amaterasu doesn't just resurrect her brothers—she binds them. It's like the Edo Tensei technique Kabuto used, but… more insidious. The children's souls will be consumed, their bodies hollowed out to house Tsukuyomi and Susanoo. But unlike the Edo Tensei, there are no seals to break, no jutsu to undo. These vessels will be her creation, molded by her power. They'll retain fragments of their personalities, yes, but they'll exist only to serve her will. Amaterasu will be their mother and their master."
Hinata felt a chill race down her spine, her heart pounding in her chest as the enormity of it began to sink in. "You're saying… she'll control the gods themselves? Like puppets?"
"Exactly," Kali said, her voice laced with bitterness. "But far more dangerous than any puppet. Tsukuyomi, the god of the moon, capable of weaving genjutsu so powerful they can trap a soul in eternal torment. Susanoo, the storm god, whose power manifests as the impenetrable armor we've seen through the Mangekyō Sharingan. With these two under her control, she will be unstoppable. Day and night, storm and sun—everything will bow to her."
Hinata's breath caught in her throat, her thoughts spinning. She had known Amaterasu was a threat. But this… this was beyond anything she had imagined. It wasn't just the goddess she would face. It was the possibility of an entire divine hierarchy bending to her will.
Tsukuyomi, the god of the moon, was a being of ultimate genjutsu, weaving illusions so powerful they could trap a soul in an endless, inescapable nightmare. Hinata knew this all too well—she had once been ensnared in his realm, the Tsukuyomi, through the Mangekyō Sharingan of Uchiha Itachi. The memory was vivid: time itself seemed to stretch endlessly as she endured an illusionary torment so convincing that it nearly broke her spirit. It was only her unwavering resolve—and the strength she had gained since—that allowed her to eventually recover from the psychological scars.
Meanwhile, Susanoo was the god of storms, a figure of raw, elemental fury. His power manifested in the form of colossal, spectral armor sets that could be summoned by those who had mastered the Mangekyō in both eyes. These constructs, formidable and nearly indestructible, had turned the tide of many legendary battles.
Uchiha Itachi had once wielded both Tsukuyomi and Susanoo with unmatched skill. However, when he used the forbidden technique Izanagi to rewrite reality and cheat death, he paid a heavy price. In exchange for his life, he sacrificed the light of his Mangekyō Sharingan, losing the ability to summon Tsukuyomi's illusions. Susanoo, on the other hand, refused to serve him any longer. Known for his tempestuous nature and disdain for weakness, Susanoo was said to have despised Itachi's reliance on forbidden power and severed their connection in a fit of divine rebellion.
To Hinata, the prospect of these two gods—Tsukuyomi and Susanoo—being reborn in Amaterasu's children was chilling. She understood their immense power and what it would mean if they came under Amaterasu's control. It wasn't just the threat of their individual abilities; it was the balance of nature itself tipping in her favor.
A chill coursed through Hinata, but she stood firm. "And you're saying the only way to stop this is to kill her before the children are born?"
Kali nodded gravely. "That's exactly what I'm saying. This is the worst-case scenario, Hinata. And that's why you need to act now. If you kill her—along with the children inside—this all ends here and now."
The words hung in the air like a death knell. Hinata felt the weight of them pressing against her chest, suffocating her. "I… I can't do that," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. She clenched her fists tighter, refusing to meet Kali's eyes. "They're just babies. They haven't done anything wrong. If I can stop Obito or Orochimaru before the children are born, maybe we can prevent this without—"
"That's too big a risk!" Kali's voice rang out, cutting through Hinata's words mid-sentence. There was no trace of her usual patience, no softness in her tone—only raw, unfiltered urgency. "Amaterasu is weakened now. This is your best chance, and if you don't take it, there won't be another. You can't let your emotions cloud your judgment!"
Hinata's own frustration began to bubble to the surface. "But don't you think the enemy knows that?" she snapped back, her voice rising for the first time. "Why would they let us find out about their plans? Isn't it because they want me to act rashly? They're setting a trap, Kali, and you're asking me to walk right into it!"
Of course Orochimaru wouldn't be careless enough to let something like that slip in front of Tayuya. No—this wasn't an accident. They wanted her to find out. They wanted her to know.
Because if she knew, it meant she'd have a reason—maybe even a justification—to try and kill Amaterasu and the unborn children inside her without hesitation or guilt. And that also meant they had already accounted for it.
Whatever move she made here, whatever desperate action they were goading her into, they were ready. They had a plan to stop her.
Kali's Byakugan flared, the lines of her veins glowing with her chakra. "Do you think they're that clever?" she hissed, her voice sharp and biting. "Do you really think Amaterasu is invincible? She's underestimating you, Hinata. She's a being with flaws, fears, and weaknesses—and this is one of them. If you let this chance slip away, there won't be a second. You'll be the one who let her rise to true godhood!"
Hinata's heart thundered in her chest, her voice trembling with suppressed emotion. "Then what do you want me to do, Kali?" she demanded, her voice cracking under the strain. "Kill her? Kill her babies? How can you even suggest that? How can you ask me to—" Her voice faltered, and she looked away, tears threatening to spill. "How can you ask me to become a monster?"
Kali's frustration burned hotter, but her voice dropped to a low, unyielding intensity. "If you don't have the stomach for this, let me take control," she said, her words cutting through Hinata like ice. "If you can't do what needs to be done, I will. I'll bear the burden for you, just like I did with Kabuto."
Hinata recoiled as if struck, her stomach twisting into knots. "How can you say that?" she shouted, her voice trembling with anger and pain. "You've always said this is my life to live, but now you're trying to take it away—just so you can kill unborn babies!? Do you hear yourself, Kali? Even if I gave you control, their blood would still be on my hands. It would be my sin to bear!"
Kali's eyes softened for a brief moment, her lips parting as though she might reconsider. But then her resolve hardened again, her expression cold and distant. "That blood will save millions of lives, Hinata. Including unborn children like Kurenai's. You're weighing the lives of two against countless innocents. The scale isn't just unbalanced—it's broken. This isn't about your feelings. This is about the survival of the world."
"I don't care about scales or logic or any of that!" Hinata screamed, her voice breaking with the weight of her emotions. Tears welled in her eyes, her body trembling as she stood her ground. "I won't kill a pregnant woman, Kali. I won't do it. I don't care what happens, I just won't do it!"
For a moment, silence fell between them, heavy and suffocating. Kali's expression hardened, her Nichiren Byakugan dimming as she lowered her gaze. When she spoke again, her voice was cold and cutting, each word like a dagger piercing Hinata's heart. "Then you'll have to live with the blood of every single person who dies from here on out because you were too weak to do what had to be done."
The word weak struck Hinata like a kunai to the chest, stealing the breath from her lungs. She had heard that word her entire life—weak, unworthy, a failure. She thought she had grown past it, had proven herself. But hearing it from Kali, from the one person who had always believed in her, was more than she could bear. The tears she had been holding back spilled over, her shoulders trembling as she looked down at the glowing trigrams beneath her feet.
"…Goodbye, Kali," she whispered, her voice breaking. She couldn't bring herself to look at Kali as she turned away, her heart shattering under the weight of her decision. The finality of her words echoed in the vast, empty space, reverberating like a bell tolling the end of something precious.
When Hinata opened her eyes, the familiar sight of the changing room greeted her, but it felt distant, as if she were seeing it through a fog. Her chest heaved with uneven breaths, and the air in the room felt thick, almost stifling. The kimono she wore, a rich purple with delicate blue striped patterns, weighed heavily on her shoulders, the fabric oppressive and suffocating rather than elegant. It clung to her like a reminder of the burden she carried, pressing down on her with an almost physical force.
Across from her, Tayuya stood by the door, adjusting the hem of her own kimono—an orange and red design that seemed to blaze like a fire. She glanced over sharply, her brows knitting together as she noticed Hinata's tear-streaked face. "You alright?" Tayuya asked, her usual bluntness tempered with a rare note of concern.
Hinata blinked rapidly, realizing for the first time that silent tears were streaming down her cheeks, dripping onto the fine silk of her kimono. She quickly wiped them away with trembling hands, her movements hurried and unsteady. "I'm fine," she said, her voice soft but edged with determination. She forced herself to stand, the weight of the kimono making the simple act feel monumental. Her legs felt unsteady beneath her, but she straightened her posture, willing herself to appear composed.
Tayuya's eyes lingered on her for a moment longer, her concern palpable, but she didn't press the issue. Hinata turned toward the door, her movements quick and deliberate as though to escape the suffocating atmosphere. "We should go," she said, her voice steadier now but distant, detached. "Before they become suspicious."
Tayuya nodded without a word, falling into step beside Hinata. They walked together out of the changing room, the quiet between them heavy and unresolved. Hinata's shoulders were squared, her expression carefully composed, but her mind churned with thoughts she couldn't yet voice. The weight of Kali's words still hung over her like a shadow, and the sting of the parting lingered in her heart.
As Hinata stepped back into the main hall with Tayuya, she forced herself to don a serene expression, the mask of an emissary slipping effortlessly into place. Her lips curved into a polite smile, her posture straight and poised, betraying none of the turmoil still swirling within her. She couldn't let it show—not now, not here. The weight of the earlier argument with Kali pressed against her chest like a stone, but she shoved it deep down, hiding it behind the impeccable demeanor she had spent years perfecting.
"Welcome back, ladies," Obito greeted, his tone light but laced with subtle insinuation. "I hope you found clothes to your tastes."
Hinata inclined her head slightly, her smile unwavering. "We did, thank you," she replied, her voice smooth and polite, betraying none of her inner exhaustion.
"You have become most charming, I must say," Amaterasu chimed in, her melodic voice drawing all attention to her. She stepped gracefully around Obito, her pale pink Gurengan glimmering faintly in the fading sunlight. With a casual tug, she adjusted the kimono Hinata wore, pulling it tighter across her chest. The gesture was intimate and strangely unsettling, like a seamstress admiring her handiwork.
This close, Hinata could smell her now—the same scent as before. It wasn't floral or perfumed as one might expect of a goddess, but earthy and rustic, like freshly tilled soil or the air after a heavy rain. It was a paradoxical fragrance, both grounding and otherworldly, clashing with the immaculate elegance Amaterasu exuded.
"I only hope to be as beautiful as you someday," Hinata said, her voice warm and deferential, playing the part of the adoring guest. She imagined Kali rolling her eyes—or worse, recoiling in silent fury. For the first time, Hinata was thankful her mentor couldn't interject.
Amaterasu's smile was radiant but faintly condescending, the way one might smile at a child playing dress-up. "Well, I suppose that isn't possible," she replied airily, as if entertaining a polite fiction. "But dreams are important."
Hinata's expression didn't falter as she nodded, accepting the veiled insult as if it were a compliment. She was determined to play her role, to hide any trace of dissent. Amaterasu turned, extending an elbow toward her with regal grace. "Would you do the honors of walking me to our destination? It isn't far, I assure you."
"Gladly," Hinata replied, her voice steady. She looped her arm through Amaterasu's, her movements fluid and obedient. They began walking slowly toward the back of the hall, moving behind the goddess's throne. The procession that formed behind them was as solemn and grand as a funeral march: Obito, Konan, Tayuya, and the six Rinnegan-bearers followed in absolute silence, their presence heavy with reverence and purpose.
The double doors at the rear of the hall swung open, revealing a grand balcony, its polished metal railings gleaming like molten gold in the light of the setting sun. The sky above the city was a masterpiece of twilight, painted in fiery hues of orange and crimson that melted into softer shades of lavender and deep indigo. Wisps of clouds hung like smudged brushstrokes across the horizon, their edges glowing as they caught the last rays of the dying sun.
The sun itself hovered just above the horizon, a colossal orb of molten fire sinking slowly toward the western edge of the city. Its light was dazzling, casting long shadows that danced across the square below and bathing the entire scene in a surreal, golden glow. The warmth of it was palpable, the air thick with the heavy, almost sacred stillness that accompanied the day's final moments.
The sun's rays hit the balcony directly, lighting it up as if it were the centerpiece of some divine stage. The light glinted off the edges of Amaterasu's flowing kimono, turning the deep red fabric into a cascade of molten gold. Her hair shimmered like silk, and her Gurengan eyes seemed to glow with an inner light, reflecting the brilliance of the sunset itself.
It took Hinata's eyes several moments to adjust to the brilliance, her vision sharpening as she took in the full scope of the scene. The city had transformed. Where before it had been bustling with activity, now every walkway, bridge, and balcony was crammed with citizens. It seemed as though every single inhabitant of the village had gathered, filling every available space in a sea of humanity. The setting sun cast a fiery glow over the city, its golden rays illuminating the sprawling square and the thousands of faces looking up in rapture.
At the center of the square lay a cleared space, a circle that seemed purposefully left empty. It was enormous, easily large enough to host a festival bonfire or some grand spectacle. But there was no wood, no stage—nothing to suggest its purpose. The mystery of it prickled at the edges of Hinata's mind, but she shoved the thought aside, focusing instead on the daunting sight before her.
As the procession stepped out onto the balcony, the crowd erupted into chaos. Unlike the rehearsed and harmonious chants from earlier, this was a cacophony of pure, unbridled adoration. Shouts of praise, sobbing cries of devotion, and jubilant declarations of love for Amaterasu filled the air, the sound a deafening roar that reverberated off the towering buildings. It was as if every person in the city had found their own unique way to express their love for their goddess.
Amaterasu basked in it all. She tilted her head back, exposing her face fully to the sun, her long, silky black hair cascading behind her. Her Gurengan eyes half-lidded, and a radiant smile spread across her face, one so genuine and blissful that it made her look almost ethereal. She glowed—literally and figuratively—as if the sunlight and the adoration of her people were feeding her, making her stronger, more alive.
This, Hinata realized, was the source of her true power. The faith and devotion of her people fueled her in a way that defied logic. It was almost intoxicating to witness, and for a fleeting moment, Hinata felt the oppressive allure of it, the temptation to believe in something so powerful, so radiant.
Beside her, Obito's face was serene, his mismatched features softened with pride. His hand rested on Amaterasu's arm, a gesture both supportive and deferential. His love for her was clear in the way he stood by her side, basking in her glow as if it were his own.
Hinata forced herself to maintain her mask, to keep her composure as they stood there on display for the entire city. She couldn't let the cracks show—not now. Not with everything at stake. She straightened her back and tightened her grip on Amaterasu's elbow, smiling faintly as if she were just another devoted follower admiring her goddess.
The illusion shattered as Amaterasu lifted her hand, the crowd falling silent with an almost supernatural obedience. The weight of the moment pressed down on Hinata, her stomach twisting as the goddess stepped forward, her pale pink Gurengan eyes glowing faintly in the waning sunlight.
"My beloved subjects," Amaterasu began, her voice impossibly soft yet resonating across the entire city, carried on invisible waves of light. It was as if her words wrapped around the hearts of every citizen, reaching them no matter how far or low they stood. "Each day, I am humbled by your unwavering love. It is your devotion that allows my rays to continue blessing this land—a land that once knew only darkness and unrelenting rain. Together, we have brought about a new dawn."
Her words dripped with sincerity, and yet they carried an edge that made Hinata's pulse quicken. Amaterasu paused, smiling warmly as murmurs of adoration rippled through the crowd, her presence holding them in a collective thrall.
"But alas," Amaterasu continued, her tone softening with theatrical regret, "the day must give way to night. The sun, too, must rest." She sighed as though heartbroken, and a wave of dismay swept through the crowd. Cries of disappointment and anguish rose like a tide, as if the mere thought of nightfall was unbearable to them.
Amaterasu tilted her head, basking in their sorrow with a small, satisfied smile. "Fear not," she said, raising her hand to silence them once more. "It is my solemn promise that although the sun sets today, it will surely rise again tomorrow. And to ensure that promise is kept… let me remind you all that what happens in the night does not escape my gaze."
At her words, a palpable shift coursed through the crowd. The joyous atmosphere dimmed, replaced by a tangible unease. Hinata's breath caught in her throat as she sensed movement in the square below, her sharp eyes catching the slow, shuffling approach of a group from the edges of the plaza. The crowd began to part, creating a path for the newcomers—a path laden with jeers, spit, and the occasional rotten fruit.
There were twenty of them, men and women of all ages, bound in pairs at the wrists and ankles. Their clothing was torn and filthy, some barely more than rags. Their faces told different stories—some were streaked with tears, their bodies trembling with fear, while others held their heads high, their gazes burning with defiance. One woman staggered under the weight of her chains, her lips moving in silent prayer. A man near the front snarled at the crowd, blood trailing from a fresh gash across his cheek where a piece of fruit had struck him.
Hinata's heart ached as she watched them dragged into the open space at the center of the square. The hatred of the crowd was suffocating. Words like "traitor" and "heretic" were hurled at the accused, their voices filled with venomous disdain. Children in the crowd joined in the frenzy, mimicking their parents' hatred, throwing stones that pelted the already broken figures.
The moment the prisoners were herded into the clearing, those escorting them retreated hastily, putting as much distance as they could between themselves and the condemned. The crowd instinctively moved back as well, forming a ring around the clearing as if afraid to stand too close. The air grew heavier, the anticipation almost unbearable.
Amaterasu's voice cut through the tension, calm and absolute. "For the crimes of conspiracy, disloyalty, and the failure to love me," she declared, her tone devoid of malice yet imbued with a chilling finality, "I offer these sacrifices so that my promise may remain unbroken. Let this serve as a reminder: only through me does the sun rise. Only through me can you find salvation."
The crowd erupted in a roar of approval, but Hinata's focus remained on the prisoners. The woman who had been praying began to sob uncontrollably, clutching at the man next to her, who held her trembling hand with a pained but resolute expression. Another man dropped to his knees, his defiance melting into despair. Others remained upright, their gazes locked on Amaterasu with an intensity that spoke of both fury and resignation.
The temperature began to rise, the air growing stiflingly hot. Sweat beaded on Hinata's brow as she realized what was coming. The warmth of the sun, once comforting, now felt oppressive, suffocating. The light from Amaterasu's Gurengan intensified, and in a single, silent moment, black flames erupted around the prisoners in a towering inferno.
The flames consumed them instantly, their screams drowned out by the roar of the fire. The black pillar seared against the evening sky, its unnatural heat palpable even from where Hinata stood. Her body froze as the crowd erupted into chaos—not of panic, but of celebration.
The cheers were deafening. People fell to their knees in reverence, their faces lit with ecstatic joy. Others threw their arms skyward, praising Amaterasu's name, their voices rising in a cacophony of jubilation. Some even began to dance, their movements wild and uninhibited, as though this display of power was the greatest gift they could receive.
Hinata felt bile rise in her throat, her stomach twisting violently as the searing black flames consumed the condemned. She forced herself to keep her composure, swallowing hard against the wave of nausea that threatened to overwhelm her. Her hands trembled at her sides, and she clenched them into fists, her nails digging into her palms until the sharp sting reminded her that she was still alive, still standing. She wondered if the faint warmth on her hands was blood or just the blistering heat that had swallowed the square.
It wasn't just the crowd's reaction that made her sick—their jubilant cheers, their fervent cries of adoration for Amaterasu—or the calm, radiant smile on the goddess's face as she absorbed their devotion. It was the ease with which this had all unfolded, as though lives could be snuffed out without so much as a ripple in her conscience. Yet, what churned Hinata's gut most violently was the mirror held up to her own inaction.
She was disgusted with herself.
She had stood there, silent and still, as twenty people—whether innocent or guilty—were condemned to an agonizing death. She had let herself be frozen, paralyzed by the weight of expectation, the oppressive heat of Amaterasu's overwhelming presence, and the bitter knowledge of what she had chosen not to do. She could feel her own weakness clawing at her chest, an unbearable pressure that refused to dissipate.
And then, faint but unmistakable, Hinata thought she could hear it: Kali's laughter. It echoed in the back of her mind, ghastly and bitter, as though carried on the ashes rising into the twilight sky. It wasn't a sound of joy but of disappointment, of mocking inevitability. A cruel reminder of the path Hinata had chosen. Of the moment she had refused to act.