The soft chime of the bronze bell outside the Hyuga estate marked midday. As the sun reached its zenith, casting a golden hue through the paper windows, the doors to the inner chamber slid open.
The attending physician stepped out, bowing with practiced grace. "Congratulations, Lord Hyuga. It is a boy—born at the hour of the sun's peak."
In the hallway, Hiashi Hyuga stood composed, his arms folded within the sleeves of his high-quality formal kimono. The cream, white, and soft gray folds of his attire glowed faintly in the midday light. His long, blackish-brown hair flowed neatly down his back, lending him a presence that was both regal and reserved.
Beside him stood a man nearly identical in appearance but slightly more relaxed in bearing—Hizashi Hyuga, his younger twin, dressed similarly, though with more subdued detailing in keeping with his place within the branch family.
Hiashi's expression, usually inscrutable, flickered with something quieter—relief, perhaps, or restrained joy. Hizashi, ever observant, stepped forward and bowed with measured grace.
"A fortuitous hour, Lord Hyuga," Hizashi said, allowing the smallest smile to grace his lips. "The sun at its peak—when shadow is shortest and light touches everything without favor. A fitting time for the birth of your heir."
Hiashi's gaze lingered on the closed doors a moment longer before he inclined his head. "Perhaps fate still holds a sense of poetry."
With the attendants dismissed and the chamber cleared, the brothers entered the room where the mother lay resting, her face aglow with a tired but peaceful smile. The baby was already swaddled and sleeping, nestled in her arms. She turned slightly, offering the child to Hiashi, who accepted him with uncommon gentleness.
The infant stirred softly in his arms, tiny fingers curling as if reaching for something unseen.
"He appears strong already," Hizashi said, standing nearby, his tone warm but respectful.
Hiashi nodded, his voice low. "He bears the weight of the clan the moment he draws breath."
"But he does not bear it alone," Hizashi answered, a quiet firmness behind his words. "He has his father's name… and his uncle's loyalty."
Hiashi looked to him then—truly looked—and the silence between them held something deeper than words.
"I am fortunate to have you at his side," Hiashi said. "Whatever the clan may demand… I trust you'll help him remember who he is."
Hizashi bowed his head. "With honor, Brother. As a Hyuga… and as your kin."
A moment passed, still and warm. The light from the midday sun bathed the room in gold, catching on dark hair and pale eyes—three generations linked by duty, blood, and something softer than either: quiet devotion.
Just then in the solemn and joyous moment Hiashi, caressing the infants forehead, broke the silence "Hamura." Hizashi turned his head gesturing Hiashi to repeat. He repeated himself, a rare thing,—"Hamura; Hamura Hyuga".Hizashi gave a questioning look, as if asking the reason behind this name." Hamura, according to legends, was the founder of the Hyuga Clan." Hisahi explained. Hizahi looked at his brother both in awe and pity. The awe was due to him being able to think of such a name at a time when most would be too overjoyed to think of something with such profound history and implications and, it was these implications that were also the cause of pity. This child, who is yet to utter a single word has already been burdened with this name. The name of the Founding Hyuga, Hamura Hyuga. This nascent life, in the hands of someone ordinary, could have had a life that could have gone in infinite directions but, as his fate dictated, he has been robbed of his other options, his future has already been decided by those who, for him, were stranger and traditions which were not yet his.
Such thoughts made Hizashi a little bitter, he remembered that how those same strangers and traditions robbed him of his brother, of course he never voiced or showed his grievances as that would mean death for him or as of that matter anybody from the branches. While pondering such things, he glanced at his brother and was taken a back, for the first time the stoic head of — no for the first time his brother had a soft and gentle expression on his face. The expression he saw can be best described as— bittersweet. He smiled with compassion and tenderness. His smile was not of ignorant happiness but that of understanding. He was well aware what the future held for his boy, what responsibilities and more importantly what burdens lied ahead for Hamura. This was a look of understanding as he had also tread the same road.