Morning.
Thud!
Thud—thud!
The usually quiet and empty Hatake compound was now alive with noise.
The relentless sound of heavy blows shattered Kakashi's drowsiness.
"Yawn~"
He dragged himself out of bed, rubbing his eyes as he got dressed and pulled open the curtains. Golden sunlight flooded the dim room. Shielding his eyes from the glare, Kakashi squinted in confusion at the scene outside.
In the middle of the Hatake clan's training grounds stood a small figure cloaked in white, while a green blur darted around her like a flickering shadow—Hikari and Might Guy.
What were these two doing here so early?
Morning training?
Kakashi ran a hand through his messy hair, filled a basin with water, and propped himself against the windowsill, brushing his teeth as he watched.
Whoosh! Whoosh!
Guy's figure flickered around Hikari, testing her with rapid kicks—each one effortlessly blocked by her.
Then—
Hiss!
A sharp gust of wind.
Guy's form solidified behind Hikari in an instant.
Hips twisted, weight shifted—
Kick!
Wham!
No wasted movement. His taijutsu was refined, pure in its efficiency.
The terrifying roundhouse kick tore through the air, leaving a vacuum in its wake. Before the sound of wind could even catch up, Guy's foot was already inches from Hikari's slender neck.
Konoha Senpū! (Leaf Whirlwind!)
In Kakashi's Sharingan, the three tomoe spun rapidly. He recognized the move instantly—Guy's signature opener when he was serious.
Brutally fast. From launch to impact, the reaction window was less than a sixteenth of a second. Even if blocked, most chūnin-level taijutsu specialists would be knocked out cold. A true "weakling filter."
How would Hikari counter this?
Kakashi already had a strategy in mind, eager to see if hers matched his.
This was the same blind prodigy who'd hospitalized a jōnin before even enrolling in the Academy—a feat even he hadn't accomplished. His curiosity about her was undeniable.
Soon, his question—along with his morning grogginess—was answered.
Hikari's pale, delicate arm rose deceptively slow, yet met Guy's kick with perfect timing.
CRACK!
Muscle-packed thigh collided with soft-but-unyielding forearm. The sound of impact made Kakashi wince mid-brush, half-expecting her to go flying.
But reality defied his expectations.
Hikari barely shuddered, dispersing the force effortlessly. Then—
Hips twisted. Weight shifted.
Kick!
Wham!
The exact same technique—Konoha Senpū—executed with the same precision, but heavier.
Kakashi's Sharingan zoomed in.
Guy's version was wind—swift, relentless.
Hikari's was iron—a single devastating blow that could shatter bones.
Same move, completely different essence.
Had she already developed her own taijutsu style at this age?
A wry thought crossed Kakashi's mind. He had once been Konoha's top prodigy, promoted to jōnin at twelve. Now, barely a few years later, he was the one marveling at someone else's talent.
---
Guy, meanwhile, was having his own revelation.
If Kakashi—watching from afar—knew better than to take that kick head-on, Guy—standing right in front of it—understood even more keenly.
His earlier strike had felt like kicking a steel weight.
Hikari might look soft as a rice cake, but inside? Solid iron.
One hit. That was all it took for Guy to grasp her true nature.
The cost? A throbbing shin and a right side numb from recoil.
Now, facing her Konoha Senpū counter, Guy couldn't dodge.
WHOOSH!
The leg came down like a whip, wind howling in its wake. The pressure alone made Guy's hair stand on end.
Years of training screamed one truth:
Don't. Get. Hit.
Flash!
Green light erupted.
Hikari's Byakugan barely registered the movement before her kick tore through empty air.
Guy stood several paces away, arms crossed, fists clenched.
His body radiated an emerald aura—brighter than any chakra scalpel, more vivid than sunlight.
"Hachimon Tonkō—Seimon!" (Eight Gates Release—Gate of Life!)
Guy's voice brimmed with unshakable confidence.
And why wouldn't it?
The Hachimon Tonkō was an ancient secret art. Its creator was lost to time, and even the Might Clan had never mastered beyond the fifth gate—until his father, Might Dai, shattered that limit.
The legend of the Eight Gates' final form—power surpassing even the Kage—was once dismissed as myth.
Then Dai proved it.
Bloody steam. The annihilation of the Seven Ninja Swordsmen.
Now, Guy had just blasted open three gates in an instant—surpassing his father, his ancestors, even the technique's creator.
---
"So how the hell do you open these gates?"
Hikari's Byakugan strained to its limits.
Guy's chakra network, veins, muscles—everything—lay bare before her. Three brilliant points of light burned inside him like stars.
1. Opening Gate – Removes the brain's limiter, unleashing 100% strength.
2. Resting Gate – Suppresses pain and fatigue.
3. Life Gate – Ignites vitality, boosting physical prowess.
She'd memorized the theory. She'd seen the Eight Gates' strongest user in action.
So why couldn't she replicate it?
Her Byakugan turned inward. The same chakra points existed in her body, yet no matter how she prodded them with chakra, nothing happened.
What was missing?
With her "Body Domination" ability, bypassing pain and pushing muscles to their limit should've been trivial. She'd even tested it the day she got the scroll.
No dice.
That's why she'd dragged Guy here at dawn—to spar.
At first, it was just to learn Konoha Strong Fist taijutsu.
The Byakugan couldn't copy moves like the Sharingan, but with her freakish physical control and raw power, mastering a style even Guy could learn? Easy.
One morning was all it took.
Konoha Senpū. Daisenpū. Gōriki Senpū.
All absorbed, all perfected.
But the Eight Gates?
Nothing.
Guy's brute-force approach—"train till you drop"—clashed with her preference for shortcuts and logic.
As for physical training?
Pointless.
Muscles grew through strain and recovery, but with Body Domination, hers developed at her whim. With enough chakra, she could hit her body's peak strength in a day.
"Old man, you're hiding something."
Hikari glared at Guy, voice flat.
If even Might Guy could learn this technique, she sure as hell could.
He had to be holding back.
---
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