Chapter 291: Karin's Chuunin Exam 25

The board flickered again before Karin could decide which offended her more.

Naruto Uzumaki winning in such a disgraceful way, or Kiba Inuzuka somehow losing after having the match handed to him.

Names blurred across the screen, flashing too quickly for most of the room to follow. Karin watched them move, only half interested at first, until they slowed.

Then stopped.

Hinata Hyūga.

Neji Hyūga.

The chamber changed immediately.

Not loudly. There was no great shout, no cheering, no obvious panic. But the atmosphere shifted all the same, like a thread had been pulled tight somewhere beneath the floor.

Karin noticed it at once.

The Hyūga girl went pale.

The Hyūga boy did not.

Neji simply looked up at the board, calm and composed, his expression almost perfectly blank. But his chakra sharpened in a way his face did not. It grew colder, tighter, and far more focused than before.

Ah.

So this was not merely a fight between two Konoha Genin.

This was a clan matter.

Karin leaned forward slightly.

How interesting.

Hinata stood near her team, fingers held close to her chest. Her shoulders were tense, her breathing uneven, and even from across the chamber Karin could feel the nervous tremble in her chakra. It was not fear of battle alone. No, this was something deeper and older.

Neji, meanwhile, stepped away from his team without hesitation.

“Troublesome,” Tōji muttered beside her. “Same-clan fights are always messy.”

Naho glanced at him. “You speak from experience?”

“No. Common sense.”

“For once, he is right,” Karin said.

Tōji looked pleased.

Karin ignored that before it could grow.

Her attention remained on Neji.

The Hyūga boy carried himself with discipline so polished it almost looked natural, but Karin did not believe that for a moment. Nothing about him was natural. His posture, his expression, even the way his chakra settled before he moved toward the arena all spoke of practice.

Not training.

Practice.

The sort of practice one did when mistakes were punished.

As he walked, Karin’s senses brushed against something beneath his forehead protector.

She stilled.

A seal.

Not a simple one either.

It sat across his forehead, hidden beneath cloth and metal, wrapped into his chakra system with ugly precision. Karin could not read the full structure from this distance, especially not without staring closely enough to draw attention, but she could understand its purpose well enough.

Control.

Pain.

Punishment.

And, if pushed far enough, destruction.

She had naturally heard about it; it was a famous seal, one that was supposed to be impossible to break, even for an Uzumaki, which spoke of the near-perfection behind that seal.

Deep inside, she felt a desire to try and see if it really was impossible to break it, but she also knew that it wasn’t something she could just try out.

That seal was, after all, quite dangerous, not to her, but to whatever poor sod she experimented on. So sadly, she doubted she would ever have a chance.

Karin’s eyes moved to Hinata.

No seal.

Of course not.

Main family and branch family, then.

She had heard of the Hyūga divide before. Anyone who studied dōjutsu politics knew at least the basic shape of it, but knowing something existed and seeing it pressed into a boy’s forehead were two very different things.

Konoha truly had a talent for making its treasures rot from the inside.

As for whether this was Konoha’s fault or not? Karin never considered the possibility.

Everything bad could be and should be ascribed to Konoha.

Hinata finally began walking down to the arena. She was slower than Neji, and every step looked heavier than it should have. Her teacher, the red-eyed woman, said something to her quietly as she passed, likely encouragement, but it did not do much.

Then Naruto shouted.

“Hey, Hinata!”

The entire room seemed to twitch at his voice.

Hinata froze and looked up.

Naruto stood at the balcony railing, still bruised, still scratched, still grinning like an idiot.

“Don’t lose to that guy! You can do it!”

Karin stared at him.

Was that supposed to help?

Apparently, it did.

Hinata’s chakra steadied. Only a little, but enough to notice. Her hands tightened, and she gave Naruto a small nod before continuing down.

Karin slowly adjusted her glasses.

That was ridiculous.

Also interesting.

Neji noticed too.

His expression did not change, but his chakra tightened again.

Hinata reached the arena floor and stopped across from him.

“Neji-niisan,” she said quietly.

For a moment, something almost softened in Neji’s face.

Almost.

Then it vanished.

“Here, we are opponents, Hinata-sama,” he said. His voice was polite, formal, and sharp enough to cut. “You should withdraw.”

Hinata flinched.

Neji continued before she could answer.

“You are not suited for this.”

The words were calm, not cruel in the obvious way. That almost made them worse. He spoke as if he were stating a medical fact, something so clear that arguing against it would be childish.

To Karin, it felt like he was denying her, her path as a shinobi, saying she wasn’t good enough to ever be a real kunoichi. It was pretty harsh, and pretty cruel given that he wasn’t just an opponent, but a family member.

Few things hurt more than getting scolded by your family.

Hinata’s hands trembled.

“I… I won’t withdraw.”

Neji looked at her for a long moment.

Then he sighed.

It was not like Shikamaru’s lazy sigh. There was no boredom in it. Only disappointment.

“You still tremble,” he said. “Even here. Even now.”

Hinata’s eyes lowered for half a second.

Neji’s chakra stirred, anger pressing against the edges of his control.

“Yuki-sama faced death without fear,” he said.

The name meant little to Karin.

But it clearly meant something to them.

Hinata reacted as if struck. Her chakra buckled inward, shame and pain twisting together, while Neji’s sharpened further. Up on the balcony, the Konoha Genin looked mostly confused, but the adults who knew the Hyūga, or at least knew enough of their history, grew very quiet.

Neji’s voice remained controlled. “She was branch family, sealed and bound, and still she became greater than anyone expected. Greater than those born above her. Greater than those who were told from birth that they would inherit the clan.”

His pale eyes fixed on Hinata.

“The main house calls her perfect because she knew her duty. The branch remembers her because she proved we were never beneath them.”

Hinata looked as if she wanted to disappear.

Karin understood the shape of it now.

Not all of it. Not the details. But enough.

One name, two wounds.

To Hinata, Yuki Hyūga was a shadow she had spent her life failing to escape. To Neji, she was proof that talent could rise higher than birth, and proof that even the greatest branch member still wore a chain.

Neji’s hands curled slightly.

“Tell me, Hinata-sama,” he said, and for the first time, the politeness in his voice cracked enough for the bitterness underneath to show. “When the branch family bleeds for the main house, are we protecting something worthy? Or merely something born above us?”

The chamber went silent.

Hinata did not answer.

How could she?

Karin doubted there was any answer that would satisfy him.

Hayate coughed softly, though even he seemed reluctant to interrupt. “Are both competitors ready?”

Neji’s expression smoothed over again. “Yes.”

Hinata swallowed, then lifted her hands into the Gentle Fist stance. “Yes.”

Karin’s eyes narrowed.

Both activated their Byakugan.

The veins around their eyes rose, chakra shifting as the dōjutsu opened. Even without having the Byakugan herself, Karin could sense the change. Their perception sharpened, chakra gathering around the eyes and spreading through their awareness like ripples through water.

Karin wasn’t a stranger to the Byakugan; Kaguya had them, after all.

Though she was still shocked at what she saw, because both of the two Hyūga shinobi had used hand signs to activate their dōjutsu.

To Karin, this didn’t feel right at all; it pretty much went against everything she knew.

Kaguya had been responsible for much of her education; while her mother had been teaching her reading and writing, Kaguya had handled everything else, including history.

And Kaguya knew a lot of history, and she had told it in funny and interesting stories, making even the much younger Karin listen and learn.

So, she was aware of the ancient legends, of how the Byakugan came to be, and about how the ancestor of the Uchiha clan had invented hand signs.

So, did the ancient Hyūga not know how to activate their own dōjutsu? Did they need the Uchiha clan to teach them?

Impossible.

So, then why did these two, one branch family, one main family, need to rely on them?

Another thing that stood out was the veins around their eyes; they were far more prominent than on Kaguya. On her, they were barely noticeable.

But here? They were beyond impossible to miss.

All in all, Karin had countless questions, and the fighting hadn’t even begun yet.

Though that particular part didn’t last long, for while Karin’s thoughts raced, down below Hayate raised his hand.

“Begin.”

Neji moved first.

Not with a charge. Not with aggression. He simply stepped forward, smooth and controlled, closing the distance as if the outcome had already been decided.

Hinata moved to meet him.

Their palms clashed.

For a brief moment, Karin saw what the Gentle Fist truly looked like between two users. Not the broken imitation one might see from outsiders, not ordinary taijutsu with fancy palm strikes, but a battle fought along the chakra network itself. Each movement sought a tenketsu, each angle denied one in return, and every touch carried danger far beyond the visible force of the blow.

It was not loud.

It wasn’t flashy; if anything, it was graceful, lacking any real aggression. A fighting style that was oddly fitting for a noble clan like the Hyūga.

Hinata was not terrible.

That surprised Karin slightly. Her movements were hesitant, yes, and her confidence was poor, but the foundation was there. She knew the forms, knew the angles, knew where to place her hands and feet.

The problem was Neji.

He was better.

Much better.

Within the first exchange, he had already read her rhythm. Within the second, he had begun breaking it. His palms slid past her guard, not striking hard enough to end the match, but tapping points along her arms and shoulders with cruel precision.

Hinata’s chakra flow stuttered.

She stepped back.

Neji followed.

“You see?” he said quietly, though his voice still carried in the chamber. “This is the difference.”

Hinata tried to strike his chest.

He turned aside and touched her wrist.

Her fingers twitched, chakra cut off for a breath.

“You were taught the same forms,” Neji continued. “Given the same clan name. Given the protection of the main house.”

Another exchange.

Another point sealed.

Hinata’s left arm slowed.

“And yet this is all you became.”

Naruto shouted from above. “Don’t listen to him, Hinata!”

Karin glanced at him.

Down below, Hinata’s chakra steadied.

Something Neji noticed.

His jaw tightened, only slightly.

Hinata attacked. This time, she was faster, or perhaps simply less hesitant. Her palm slipped past Neji’s sleeve and came close enough that even Karin thought it might touch.

Neji twisted.

Barely.

For the first time, he had to properly avoid her.

A murmur passed through the room.

Hinata pressed forward, and for a few seconds, she looked almost like a real kunoichi. Not a genius. Not a monster. But someone who had trained, someone who wanted to prove that her trembling did not define her.

Karin found herself watching more closely.

Then Neji ended the illusion.

His foot shifted.

His stance changed.

Hinata stepped into the opening he gave her, and Neji’s palm struck beneath her ribs.

Not hard.

Not visibly.

But Karin felt the chakra impact sink inward.

Hinata’s breath caught.

Neji struck again, two fingers touching near her shoulder.

Then her chest.

Then her arm.

Then her side.

Each strike was small. Precise. Almost gentle.

Hinata stumbled back, face paling.

Karin’s mouth flattened.

That was the terror of the Gentle Fist.

A normal punch showed its damage. Bruises, blood, broken bones. This did not. A Hyūga could ruin someone from the inside while barely wrinkling their clothes.

Hinata tried to lift her arm.

It barely moved.

Neji stopped in front of her.

“Withdraw,” he said.

Hinata trembled, breathing hard.

For a moment, Karin thought she would.

It would have been sensible. The fight was lost. Her chakra network had already taken damage, and Neji was clearly holding back enough not to cripple her. Continuing would achieve nothing but injury.

Then Naruto shouted again.

“Hinata! Don’t give up!”

Karin closed her eyes for a moment.

Of course.

Hinata lifted her head.

Her chakra shook, but it did not collapse.

“No,” she said, voice soft but clear enough. “I won’t.”

Neji stared at her.

There was no hatred in his face.

That almost made the anger in his chakra sadder.

“You mistake stubbornness for strength,” he said.

Hinata shook her head. “Maybe. But I want to change.”

For a second, Neji looked genuinely angry.

Not because she had insulted him.

Because she meant it.

And clearly, Neji was insulted that she wanted to change, that she found strength from some random boy, rather than whatever he would consider a proper reason.

To him, such an act was childish, foolish, and insulting.

Because, to him, no amount of desire would change anything; it wasn’t a lack of desire that defined their lives.

Only birth did.

Only the seal.

And so, he struck.

Hinata tried to block, tried to use her newfound confidence, her defiance.

She failed; no amount of stubbornness could change black to white. She was beaten, and refusing to admit it didn’t change that fact.

His palm landed near her heart, and her chakra buckled.

Kurenai moved on the balcony.

So did the green fool, Might Guy, though he moved only a fraction, one hand shifting as if he were ready to cross the distance before anyone else could blink.

Karin noticed.

So Kaguya-hime had been right.

There was something there.

But Neji did not follow with a killing blow.

Instead, he stopped.

His palm hovered inches from Hinata’s chest as she swayed on her feet, eyes wide, blood touching the corner of her mouth.

The chamber held its breath.

Neji’s hand trembled.

Only slightly.

Then he lowered it.

“That is enough,” he said.

Hinata tried to answer.

She did not manage it.

Her knees buckled, and she collapsed to the floor.

Hayate stepped forward at once, placing himself between them.

“Winner, Neji Hyūga.”

For a moment, Neji did not move.

Then he bowed.

Perfectly.

Politely.

Like a branch family member should.

Karin watched him closely.

His face was calm again, his posture controlled, his manners flawless. But his chakra was not calm. It shook beneath the surface, anger and humiliation pressed down so tightly that Karin wondered how long it had been there.

Not hatred.

Not truly.

If he hated Hinata, he would not have stopped.

This was something uglier and more complicated. Envy, resentment, shame, and a bitterness polished smooth by years of being taught exactly how much anger he was allowed to show.

The medics rushed to Hinata.

Naruto shouted her name and had to be held back by his own exhaustion more than by anyone else. The red-eyed Jōnin was already at Hinata’s side, checking her pulse with a tight expression.

Neji turned away.

He walked back toward the stairs, every step measured.

Tōji was quiet beside Karin.

Naho too.

Neither made a joke.

Good.

Even they had enough sense for that.

Karin adjusted her glasses, gaze lingering on the Hyūga boy’s covered forehead.

A clan with eyes that could see almost everything, and still they had chosen not to see what they were doing to themselves.

How very Konoha.