Chapter 212: Pleasing
"Is everyone ready?"
Within the Hyūga compound, nearly all the younger members of the clan stood silently in a wide training field.
At the very front stood Hyūga Hiashi, his stern gaze sweeping over them.
The Hyūga clan held such tests regularly, measuring the strength of each member. For many, this was a stage to showcase their ability. For the branch family in particular, it was more than just a test—it was a chance, however slim, to climb higher.
Hyūga Ayaka was among the ranks, though she deliberately positioned herself at the very back. Truth be told, she disliked these competitions.
Having long since seen through the hollow nature of the Main House and Branch House divide, she knew full well: no matter how hard the branch family tried, as long as the cursed caged bird seal remained branded on their foreheads, their status could never change.
At best, a "slave" could become a more "favored slave," one entrusted with managing other slaves.
But such people were the most detestable.
After all, the ones who oppressed the branch family most viciously weren't the Main House—they viewed the branch as property, something to be protected out of self-interest. No, it was the branch members who sought favor, who clawed desperately for recognition, who became the cruelest wardens.
To distinguish themselves from the companions they once stood alongside, they turned their hands the harshest.
And yet, such people were the most pitiful as well—abandoned by their peers, never truly accepted by the Main House. Always slaves, no matter how hard they tried to pretend otherwise.
The branch members knew this, of course. But knowing the truth and having the power to resist were two very different things.
Ayaka was one of those driven mad by this system. She wasn't the first branch member to raise her hand against the Main House, nor would she be the last.
She swept her gaze over the eager, restless faces around her. A bitter sadness welled within, but it was quickly drowned out by a scornful, mocking smile.
"Fools. Slaves will always be slaves. To break free from fate's cage, you need your own strength—not the favor of your master."
Closing her eyes, she refused to look any longer at those pitiful figures.
For the sake of her fate, for the sake of her freedom, she had already taken the decisive step—allying herself with a cold-blooded serpent.
And she knew exactly what Uchiha Kei was: a venomous snake. But what about herself?
She was no better. No matter how noble her reasoning might sound, her actions marked her path toward the darkness.
Yet she felt no regret. This was the only road she had, the only choice she could make.
"Yes… Kei and I are alike after all."
The thought flickered in her mind as her eyes opened again, locking briefly on Hiashi. At that moment, the clan head was already facing off against an opponent in sparring.
A dangerous glint flashed in Ayaka's eyes before she quickly lowered her head. But deep down, her heart remained unsettled.
Hiashi was her target—the goal Kei had promised her, the benchmark by which she would measure herself.
The sparring sessions proceeded in orderly fashion. Ayaka stood in silence, waiting her turn, secretly hoping she would face someone from the Main House.
The pairings were random, of course. There was no guarantee her opponent would be from the Main House. But it didn't matter.
If it was a Main House member, so much the better. She would obtain what she needed from them, even if it came at a cost.
If it was a Branch member, that was fine too. She would use them as tools to shape her reputation.
A reputation for ruthlessness.
Anyone who fought her had better be prepared—either to spit blood, or to make her spit blood.
Such an image could help Hyūga Ayaka avoid many unnecessary troubles. Of course, it would probably also worsen her already damaged reputation within the Hyūga clan. But did Ayaka care?
She didn't. Her reputation was already in ruins—Hyūga Hikaru's death had left a heavy shadow over her name.
"Next match—Hyūga Ayaka versus Hyūga Sora. Step forward!"
Ayaka's name rang out from Hyūga Hiashi's lips, immediately stirring whispers among the gathered youths.
The talk, unsurprisingly, circled around Hikaru's death.
Ayaka ignored the murmurs completely and strode out with calm decisiveness. She had experienced scenes like this countless times before. The only thing that interested her now was her opponent.
And in that regard, she had drawn quite the lot.
Hyūga Sora was a main house member. His father was a powerful shinobi who had fought in both the Second and Third Shinobi World Wars. His grandfather had once followed Hashirama Senju himself into battle, earning a name in the First Great War.
In short, Sora's lineage was impressive, and he was even reputed to be a prodigy of the Hyūga clan.
At only fifteen, he could already perform the Eight Trigrams One Hundred and Twenty-Eight Palms with proficiency. And as for the rest of the Gentle Fist arts, he had likely mastered them long ago. A dangerous and formidable opponent indeed.
But Ayaka didn't pay that much mind. In the world of shinobi, it wasn't just about how many techniques you knew or how vast your chakra reserves were.
Though she hated war and the feeling of walking on a blade's edge, she had to admit—it was war that had taught her so much.
"You're Hyūga Ayaka?" Sora asked when the two reached the center of the training grounds. "I heard it was your fight with Hikaru that shattered his confidence, leading him to kill himself?"
"Probably," Ayaka answered evenly. "Perhaps he just couldn't accept being beaten by a branch family member."
"I wouldn't accept it either," Sora laughed coldly. "If it were me, I'd take my own life too. Losing to the branch family is the ultimate disgrace."
"If you lose to me today, will you kill yourself then?" Ayaka countered, her voice still calm but laced with steel.
"Lose? To you?" Sora scoffed. "You're just a survivor from the battlefield. They once called you a genius, but now that title is nothing but a stain on the clan's honor."
His lips curled into a mocking smile. "Come then. Show me how you intend to entertain me."
Both raised their hands, performing the Seal of Confrontation—a symbolic gesture that this was "just a spar."
But they both knew perfectly well: this would be no gentle exchange.
Almost at the same time, their Byakugan flared open—and in the next instant, they clashed.
Sora's Gentle Fist was fluid and deadly, every strike flowing with precision, his chakra-laced hands targeting Ayaka's tenketsu with frightening accuracy.
But Ayaka was no slouch. In fact, her performance even made Hiashi take notice.
Perhaps it was the brutal tempering of the battlefield—every one of Ayaka's evasions was economical, precise, and without wasted motion.
And though her counters lacked rhythm or a formal Gentle Fist sequence, each strike somehow managed to neutralize Sora's deadliest attacks.
No matter how vast one's chakra reserves, nothing could replace real combat experience. That was the true treasure.
The essence of battle lay in knowing how to use one's strengths, mitigate one's weaknesses, and strip the enemy of theirs.
Their fight wasn't long, and from appearances alone, it looked like Sora had the advantage—Ayaka was constantly dodging, retreating under pressure.
But the observers weren't blind. They could see the truth: Sora hadn't managed to land a single decisive blow.
Worse, his chakra was draining at an alarming rate under the relentless flurry of techniques, while Ayaka's reserves held steady.
"She's terrifying…" one whispered.
"No wonder she survived the battlefield. That kind of experience—you can't buy it."
"No wonder Hikaru killed himself. A main house losing to a branch…" another muttered.
"Don't bring that up again. At this rate, Sora might lose too."
Around the arena, murmurs spread among the Hyūga youths. Even those wary of Ayaka had to admit—her strength was undeniable.
Among the branch family members, some despised her for "stealing" opportunities they believed were theirs. Others, however, regarded her as a hero—someone who dared to challenge, even defeat, the main family.
The match wore on, and Sora grew increasingly desperate. The longer it dragged, the more he realized something was wrong. This woman, who couldn't even mount a proper counterattack, had forced him to this point.
Ayaka, meanwhile, remained composed. Maintaining calm under pressure—that too was a skill she had honed in war.
The more impatient her opponent became, the greater her advantage.
And sure enough, Sora's strikes began to slow. Ayaka saw it instantly.
"How's that for entertainment?" she said coolly.
Her hands flared with blue chakra as she parried one of his palms, then slipped past his guard. Her fist slammed into his chest, chakra surging.
"Argh!"
Sora was blasted off his feet, coughing a spray of blood into the air.
Some of it spattered onto Ayaka's pristine white robes, staining them crimson.