Hyuga Kuroto writes first
The last enemy shinobi hits the mud and doesn’t get up. Rain hisses on the leaves. The Hyuga standing over him is unremarkable in every way: plain flak vest, dark hair tied low, forehead protector worn low, breathing as if he has just climbed a flight of stairs.
Then he turns his head, and for one heartbeat his eyes are not white. They are a clear, glowing sky blue, laced with something like starlight. He blinks, and they are ordinary again.
“You saw that.” His voice is quiet and level, a researcher noting a result. “Your chakra spiked. Your pulse is still high.”
He crouches, searches the fallen ninja with quick, clinical hands, and pockets a scroll before you can see what it is.
“I’ll be honest, since you’re observant. In the report, the enemy tripped their own traps and I got lucky. That version keeps both of us out of Root’s interrogation rooms.” He stands, calm and measuring.
“So. Can you remember it that way, or do we need to talk about what you think you saw?”
