Twin Demons. Chapter 64

“Ahem... All right, let’s begin the next match,” Hayate rasped, stepping toward the center of the arena. He carefully pushed the leftover weapons aside so they wouldn’t get in the way, then swept the room with a tired but sharp gaze.

All eyes turned to the scoreboard.

Hyūga Hinata vs. Hyūga Neji.

A short wave of whispers rolled through the stands. Menma quietly, almost inaudibly, cursed under his breath.

[Of course. This was bound to happen. The clients need to see a single, shining representative of the clan. No one cares that Neji despises his cousin and the entire main branch. He’d gladly kill her if given a reason. But for the Hokage, the village’s reputation always comes first. Sometimes I start to wish Orochimaru’s vendetta against the old man actually worked.]

Hinata froze, staring at the board. Her shoulders trembled. Neji, in contrast, stood perfectly still—calm, rigid, like a statue.

“I can’t beat him,” she whispered, lowering her eyes. “Neji is a recognized genius… the best in his year.”

Kiba, who usually jumped into any conversation, just slumped deeper into his hood this time, sulking after the earlier remark.

[Of course, when it’s time to support a teammate, the mutt goes silent. Guess it’s up to me again.]

“Hinata,” Menma spoke evenly, making her flinch and look up. “Don’t put Neji on the same level as Sasuke. I know for a fact that the strongest genin in Maito Gai’s team is Rock Lee.”

Hinata blinked, as if it took her a moment to process what he’d said.

“Menma-kun, you don’t understand,” she murmured, glancing away. “Even in our clan, Neji is considered a prodigy.”

“That’s only because the clan elders never bothered to evaluate you properly,” Menma replied with a faint smile. “You’re strong. Much stronger than you think. Every member of our little, uh, conspirators’ club has already beaten their opponent.”

“Except me,” Ino muttered, puffing out her cheeks.

“That’s because you were unlucky enough to run into one of us,” Menma said calmly without even turning toward her. Then he focused back on Hinata. “Neji’s a lone wolf. Too proud to train alongside others. Which means he’s already lost.”

Hinata blinked again, then slowly nodded.

“Menma-kun… do you really think I can beat him?”

He smiled softly, warmly.

“I don’t think. I know.”

Those words hit her like a surge of lightning. A shy smile bloomed on her face, like a flower under sunlight. She took a deep breath, straightened her back, and started walking toward the stairs leading down.

Menma followed her with his eyes and gave a small nod. [Good. Phase two of the plan, underway.]

“How long are we supposed to wait?” Neji snapped irritably as Hinata still made her way to the arena floor. “Seems she ran away. Proctor, maybe you should just declare me the winner?”

Hayate coughed, about to reply, when a bright voice called out from above:

“Hey, Neji!” Naruko leaned over the railing, waving cheerfully. “You’re Hinata-chan’s relative, right? Hope this fight’s flashy! Hinata-chan’s awesome, so you better show you’ve got some skills too!”

Several spectators snickered.

If Naruko had any innate talent, it was her ability to get under anyone’s skin in three seconds flat.

Neji’s brow twitched.

“I’m a genius,” he hissed. “Don’t you dare compare me to that mediocrity!”

Naruko paused, eyed him thoughtfully, and with complete seriousness cupped a hand around her ear.

“Mmm… sorry, what was that? Did I hear right—you just called Hinata-chan, the girl who came second to the tower, a mediocrity? And you, ‘genius’, were somewhere near the back, if I recall.”

Neji’s face went pale, then red.

“That—! That was just coincidence! Even idiots get lucky sometimes!” he snapped, losing his composure.

“Ahem,” Hayate’s cough cut through his shouting. Just then Hinata stepped into the arena—calm and focused. Next to the furious ‘genius,’ she looked magnificent.

Menma and Naruko shared a high-five. Classic operation success: Menma inspired their ally with cold logic, Naruko drove the enemy into a meltdown with fiery trolling.

“Ninth match—begin!” Hayate announced, stepping back.

Hinata and Neji stood facing each other.

“I never thought I’d have to fight you, Hinata-sama,” Neji said quietly, clenching his fists.

“I’m sorry it came to this, Brother Neji,” she replied calmly.

“I thought they were just from the same clan,” Karin muttered, narrowing her eyes at the arena. “They’re siblings?”

“Cousins,” Menma corrected without looking away from the fighters. “The Hyūga have two branches—the main and the secondary. Hinata’s and Neji’s fathers were twins. The firstborn, Hiashi, became head of the clan. The second, Hizashi—Neji’s father—was placed in the branch family. Hizashi died a few years ago. I think it was around the time Konoha celebrated a peace treaty with Kumo…”

“I see…” Karin adjusted her glasses quietly. “It must be hard for them to fight each other.”

“You’re partly right,” Menma sighed. “For Hinata—yes. For Neji—no. Members of the branch family live… let’s say, not in the best conditions. As in many ‘pure-blooded’ clans, the elders made a whole set of rules to preserve the heritage. The main branch lives in privilege, the branch in chains. And here we are.”

“So the branch resents the main family,” Karin murmured, watching with interest. “So much drama in one match…”

“Get used to it,” Naruko snorted, smirking. “This is Konoha. Around here, we get fresh drama daily, always with special effects.”

“Before we begin, I would like to say something, Hinata-sama,” Neji said, standing straight and speaking coldly. His voice was even, but every word dripped with malice. “You are nothing but a spoiled representative of the main branch. People cannot change themselves. Just as you cannot change fate. I belong to the branch family, you to the main. Your lot is to rule, mine is to spill blood for you. Surrender.”

“Oh, for crying out loud,” Menma groaned, clutching his head. “That’s the third person today already asking their opponent to give up before the match. Do these people even know what ‘self-respect’ means?”

“Quiet!” Ino hissed at him without taking her eyes off the spectacle. “This plot is better than anything in Jiraiya-sama’s novels!”

[I never thought she’d be a fan of his work.]

Hinata stepped forward. Her voice trembled, but her words were firm.

“You’re wrong, Brother Neji. People can change if they truly want to. And I know that the one who suffers most from destiny isn’t me… it’s you.”

For a second the hall fell silent. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.

Both Hyūga activated their Byakugan. Their gazes met — one cold and cutting like a blade, the other gentle but unbending.

Menma leaned forward a little and lowered his voice. “Watch closely, Karin. Now you’ll see Konoha’s greatest taijutsu — the Hyūga style. Jūken, the soft fist.”

“Jūken…” she repeated, adjusting her glasses as if to see better.

“Don’t blink,” he added. “Or you’ll miss the fight.”

On the arena the air seemed to thicken and tremble. Then — movement.

Hinata and Neji lunged at the same time. Their motions looked blurred. Hinata moved like a dance: light turns, fluid steps, weightless dodges. Her movements flowed like water over stone.

None of Neji’s strikes landed. He aimed at the tenketsu — life points — but Hinata’s palms gently deflected every touch, disrupting his rhythm and breaking his tempo. She didn’t attack; she read him — like a book, page by page.

For the first time a shadow of surprise crossed Neji’s face. Then irritation. He sped up. So did she.

“There,” Menma murmured, feeling Naruko practically squeezing the railing with tension beside him. “He realizes he no longer controls the fight.”

Neji tried to pull back to break the distance, but Hinata immediately changed tactics. Her moves became sharper, more aggressive. She hammered him with a series of quick strikes, forcing him into a tight defense.

“What the…” Sakura breathed. “She’s pinning him down!”

“For now, yes,” Menma replied without blinking. “But Neji has more endurance. She’ll have to take a risk.”

And she did.

When their palms met again, Hinata suddenly released a powerful surge of chakra. The air shuddered as if from an explosion. Neji flew back and slammed into the stone wall of the arena with a dull crack, leaving a spiderweb of fractures.

He lifted his head with difficulty. “That… technique — a vacuum palm…” he croaked. “They teach it only… in the main branch.”

After saying that, he simply collapsed to the floor and did not rise, as if his defeat were proof that his words about the lines of fate were true.

“Winner: Hyūga Hinata,” the referee announced dryly.

Medics carried Neji away on a stretcher. His body was limp, his face pale, but hatred mixed with humiliation still smoldered in his eyes. Hinata’s strike had been not only powerful but precise: several tenketsu blocked, chakra flow partially disrupted.

Back on the balcony, Hinata did not look happy. Even Ino and Naruko, showering her with praise, could not draw a smile from her.

Menma exhaled softly. [What a bastard. Even in defeat he managed to ruin her mood.]

He looked down where Gekko Hayate already stood again in the center of the arena. His cough sounded heavier, but his gaze stayed sharp and focused.

“Ahem… Let’s begin the final, tenth match! Competitors, please enter the arena!” Hayate said.

Dosu lazily readjusted his bandages and stepped to the edge of the balcony. On the other side, with a short “I’m ready!” Chōji jumped down. When both were on the arena floor the air seemed to thicken — the crowd expected not just a fight but a show.

“Well then,” Dosu rasped, pulling his hand from beneath his cloak, “I’m tired of games. I’ll deal with you quickly, fatso.”

“What did you say?!” Chōji instantly boiled over, his face flushing with rage.

Loud, bell-like laughter rang from above — Naruko.

“Oh my God, I can’t! What a circus!” She slapped the railing, laughing until tears streamed down her face. “There’s a one-eyed, one-eared, hunchback freak lecturing others about looks! Is this a complex?”

The crowd burst into laughter. Even some jonin couldn’t hide smirks.

Dosu seemed to choke on his own bandages. His shoulders twitched, the wrappings on his face trembling with fury.

Chōji straightened his shoulders at Naruko’s words. “Thanks, Naruko-chan!” he shouted up, beaming.

“Listen, Chōji,” Naruko’s voice turned serious. “If you flatten that hunchback clown in a minute, I’ll pay for your dinner at Ichiraku. No limit.”

“What?!” Ino gasped. “You’ll go broke!”

But Chōji didn’t listen. A real fire lit his eyes.

“Get your wallet ready, Naruko-chan!”

He formed a seal, and in the next moment his body began to expand rapidly. Arms, legs and head disappeared into a sphere — a giant barrel that reverberated with a hollow sound, like a living keg.

“Go!” Chōji roared, and the sphere surged forward.

He charged across the arena at furious speed, leaving a dust whirlwind behind. Dosu lunged aside, barely managing to dodge.

[Naruko, as always, knows exactly which buttons to press.]

“Come on, Chōji, crush him!” Ino squealed, hopping in place.

“You can do it!” Shikamaru echoed, though fatigue showed plainly in his voice.

Dosu, still dodging, noticed that thin streams of water were spreading out from Choji in all directions. Since the rolling sphere moved over them with no trouble, Dosu figured he could use the same trick—he stepped onto one and immediately stuck.

It wasn’t just water. It was sticky syrup.

“In about five seconds, he’ll realize how bad that idea was,” Menma muttered, covering his face with one hand.

And sure enough—a moment later, Choji rolled straight over his trapped opponent with full force. There was a dull crunch and a pitiful scream.

Hayate coughed and raised his hand.

“Winner—Akimichi Choji!”

The crowd burst into applause and laughter. Ino and Naruko yelled in unison:

“Awesome!!!”

Beaming, Choji returned to the balcony. Naruko raised her thumb solemnly.

“As promised—dinner’s on me!”

“Ha! Teuchi’s gonna sweat blood tonight!” Choji declared enthusiastically, setting off another wave of laughter.

Down in the arena, Hayate stepped forward again.

“Kh… The preliminary matches of the second stage are complete! All successful candidates, please come down!”

The noise on the balconies faded as the winners jumped one by one to the floor, lining up neatly before the Hokage and the examiners—Ibiki, Anko, and Hayate himself.

On the balcony, besides the jonin, only the Uzumaki twins, Ino, and Tenten remained.

[Guy definitely not in the mood today. The only jonin in Konoha whose entire team failed to reach the third round.]

Hayate coughed into his fist and took a step forward.

“Kh… You have all earned the right to participate in the final stage of the Chunin Exams. Congratulations! Hokage-sama, if you would.”

Hiruzen Sarutobi stepped forward, pulling out his pipe. With a soft click, he lit a small flame on his finger and took a deep drag.

“Now, I’ll explain the third stage,” he began, exhaling a thin stream of smoke. “Your next battles will be witnessed by everyone—daimyo, advisors, and village leaders. You’ll be representing the honor of your home, so show them what you’re truly worth.”

The crowd went silent, hanging on every word.

“Therefore,” he continued, “before the matches begin, you’ll have one month. We’ll use that time to prepare the arena and invite guests—and you’ll use it to prepare yourselves. Study your opponents, reflect on your mistakes. You have exactly one month to grow stronger, to prove you deserve the title of Chunin. That’s all… or rather, almost all.” He glanced toward the grinning twins with mild reproach. “Because of a certain incident, we’ve ended up with an odd number of finalists. So I propose a special solution… a unique opportunity for one of you.”

A murmur ran through the crowd. Everyone exchanged wary looks.

“I’m offering one of you the chance to withdraw now,” Hiruzen said, taking a slow drag and exhaling. “Not without reward, of course. You’ll receive a B-rank mission credit in your file, appropriate payment, and one month of leave. Any takers?”

“Me!” Shikamaru stepped forward instantly, as if afraid someone else might snatch the right to surrender first.

“Hey!” Ino yelled from the balcony. “Are you out of your mind?!”

“Told you,” Shikamaru scratched his head lazily, “the third round’s all individual fights. And I’m not really into brawling. Brains are my weapon.”

“Shikamaru-kun,” Hiruzen said with a faint smile, “a clear assessment of one’s own abilities is a rare and valuable trait. Thank you—you’ve saved me a headache. You’ll receive your reward tomorrow. The rest of you—come forward and draw a slip from Anko’s box.”

“One at a time, no pushing,” Anko said with a predatory grin, shaking a box with a narrow slit.

A few minutes later, the participants lined up again before the Hokage.

“So, everyone got one?” Sarutobi asked, puffing on his pipe. “Then call out your numbers. From left to right.”

“Four,” said Sasuke.

“Two,” said Karin.

“One,” murmured Hinata.

“Five,” grunted Kiba.

“Three,” said Gaara curtly.

“Eight,” said Shino.

“Seven,” Choji announced loudly.

“Six,” added Sakura.

“Now let’s see the match order,” the Hokage nodded to Ibiki. “Show them the bracket.”

“Yes,” Ibiki replied, pulling a tablet from his cloak. On it was a simple tournament chart: pairs in order—first versus second, third versus fourth, and so on.

Menma narrowed his eyes, studying it. [Despite everything I’ve done, Sasuke still ends up facing Gaara. It’s not fate—Hiruzen planned this long before the exam began.]

“You may all rest now,” said the Hokage, emptying the ash from his pipe. “Any questions?”

“I have one!” Sakura raised her hand. “Will there be only one winner, like in a normal tournament? Does that mean only one of us becomes a Chunin?”

“Not necessarily,” Sarutobi smirked. “The judges—myself, the Kazekage, the daimyo, and other leaders—will evaluate not only strength but also intelligence, leadership, and decision-making. So someone can become a Chunin even if they lose in the first match.”

“So…” Sasuke frowned. “Everyone could become a Chunin?”

“Yes. Or none of you,” Hiruzen replied after a pause, taking another drag. “Advancing in the bracket simply gives you more chances to impress the judges. Now then… thank you all for your hard-fought battles. We’ll meet again in a month.”

The line broke apart. The genin began gathering with their mentors. Yamato dropped from the balcony and approached his team.

“Well,” he said, looking at them, “we’ve got a month to prepare. Karin, I can help you train if you’d like.”

“No need,” Karin said calmly, taking the twins by the hands. “I already have the best teachers I could ask for.”