Back in the forest, Hinata Haruki resumed his relentless training. This time, he moved on to shurikenjutsu—the art of throwing ninja tools.
To Haruki, shurikenjutsu was no trivial skill. In real combat, throwing weapons were excellent for ambushes, distraction, area denial, and probing an enemy's defenses. If an opponent suddenly flung a dozen shuriken at him, dodging would be difficult. Without sufficient technique, he'd have no choice but to burn through chakra by using a Rotation (Hakkeshō Kaiten) to deflect them all. But a true master could parry a barrage with just a few well-aimed kunai—saving both energy and time.
Of course, Haruki didn't know any flashy Uchiha-style techniques like "second-stage aerial redirection throws" that relied on Sharingan perception and ridiculous wrist flicks. He had to start from the basics.
He began by aiming at a single target. Once he could consistently hit it, he added a second, then a third—eventually scaling up to six, nine, and finally twelve targets. Twelve was his imagined max: a scenario where he was surrounded from all sides by enemies attacking in sync.
Next, he practiced throwing multiple kunai at once—two at first, then gradually building up to all twelve. Eventually, he could hurl twelve kunai simultaneously, striking all targets, even when they were placed at different heights and angles around him. After that, he swapped in moving targets to simulate live combat.
But what about enemies hiding in blind spots?
Haruki turned to shuriken. Unlike kunai, shuriken could spin mid-air and fly along curved trajectories. Once he had a solid grasp of the basics, he began experimenting with complex throws—using his understanding of fluid dynamics to manipulate their arcs. Soon, his shuriken began to spin with devious precision: S-curves, J-curves, C-loops, ricochets, falling leaf spins—you name it. Haruki smirked to himself.
"These curve throws… I totally stole the idea from card-throwing stunts in those gambling movies. Pretty sure not even the card master could pull off tricks like this with shuriken."
The Three Basic Techniques (San Shinjutsu) were also a top priority.
Substitution Jutsu (Kawarimi no Jutsu) was a crucial life-saver. By instantly swapping places with a log, animal, or object, a ninja could avoid a lethal strike. Mastering the technique meant the difference between death and escape.
Picture this: a swarm of shuriken raining down—Kawarimi! They all slam into a wooden post.The opponent grabs you with bandages for a Primary Lotus—Kawarimi! You swap out mid-grab.A fireball roars your way—Kawarimi! You vanish into smoke, tucked behind a rock.
To Haruki, substitution had to be second nature. Whether he was airborne, underwater, lying down, or even hanging upside down—he trained to trigger it under any condition.
Transformation Jutsu (Henge no Jutsu) allowed him to mimic other people, animals, or even objects. During high-intensity combat, a well-placed fake could create just enough hesitation to land a strike. Simplicity was key—when a shinobi was under pressure, they rarely expected the obvious.
"Look at Naruto's transformations—shuriken, kunai, rocks, Akamaru, Sasuke… okay, yeah, he also turned into a sexy jutsu version… but I'm not doing that. Probably."
Clone Jutsu (Bunshin no Jutsu) was often called useless—too rigid, too easy to break. A clone had no attack power, no defense, and disappeared with one hit. Still, it was foundational. Like tree-walking or water-walking, it trained chakra control—the lifeblood of a shinobi.
Good clones looked exactly like the original—same stance, same breath. Weak ones? They collapsed or shrunk into mini versions like Naruto's used to. Worse, they used too much chakra and released plumes of smoke—obvious fakes. Haruki wanted more.
He aimed to master the technique until his clones consumed the minimum chakra possible while maintaining maximum realism. Even the smoke output should be adjustable—just enough to be convincing, but never wasteful.
"There are no useless jutsu. Only shinobi who can't use them properly," Haruki muttered, redoubling his training.
Haruki also explored various chakra applications.
With chakra focused on his feet, he could walk up trees. On his arms—it boosted his strength. On his legs—he could jump farther, run faster. Channeling chakra across his skin even provided a basic protective layer. His control was improving, day by day.
To push himself further, Haruki developed a routine:
Condense chakra. Deplete it. Re-condense.
Chakra to legs → long-distance running.
Chain-cast the Three Basic Techniques for stamina drain.
Foot chakra → climb trees endlessly.
Burn through all reserves. Rest. Repeat.
Meanwhile, in the Hyuga compound, Haruki became a ghost.
He was too young to attend clan meetings. When the main family held gatherings or ceremonies, Haruki used illness as an excuse. He stayed in the shadows, quietly avoiding the clan's indoctrination.
Neither the old Haruki nor the new one felt any fondness for the Hyuga main family. Their brainwashing tactics didn't affect him. Thankfully, he was raised by Mizuki's family, loyal members of the branch family. Her parents were kind civilians who taught him to love his home and treat family with care.
Mizuki understood his pain. She never spouted that nonsense about "living to serve the main family." Even she didn't believe it.
After all, every branch family member bore the cursed Caged Bird Seal, shackled by the will of the main house. Could they all truly be loyal? Of course not. Many resented the system—some even hated it.
Mizuki was one of them. She respected Haruki's father deeply. She would never ask Haruki to throw his life away for a clan that never protected him.
So Haruki stayed quiet and trained harder than anyone.
Physical fitness. Ninja tools. Chakra refinement. The Three Basics. All day, every day. He ignored the boredom, endured the repetition, drilled each motion into muscle memory until they were instinctual—like flexing a finger.
As days turned into weeks, his body grew stronger. With his medical knowledge, he crafted a balanced diet and set strict sleep cycles. His health improved drastically—no longer pale and weak. Now, he was lean, sturdy, and full of fire.
Eventually, he began applying these skills in combat simulations. In his past life, he'd been a doctor—no matter how well you practiced in the lab, nothing compared to real surgery. One mistake could cost a patient their life.
As a shinobi? One mistake cost your own.
"I need a teacher," Haruki thought. "Someone to spar with. Someone who can pass on battle experience."
He wasn't in a rush. Once Mizuki returned, he planned to ask her for lessons—on the Byakugan, the Gentle Fist, and how to fight like a real Hyuga. For now, he focused on laying the groundwork himself.
Two months flew by.
Aside from a few visits to Mizuki's home and quick supply runs, Haruki barely left his training grounds. His dedication was far beyond what most Genin could manage—let alone a child.
By now:
His Three Basic Techniques were second nature.
He could strike six targets at once with shuriken.
His physical condition had drastically improved—he could do 40 push-ups without chakra, impressive for a four-year-old.
His chakra pool had grown enough to likely cast a full Fire Style: Great Fireball Jutsu.
His current obsession was tree-walking. He'd mastered it long ago—but his rapid growth meant he had to constantly adjust his chakra output to match his rising body weight. That challenge only sharpened his control further.
Next up? Mountain climbing. With weights.He imagined hauling stones like Jiraiya, slowly scaling a cliff with nothing but chakra and grit.
He also trained water walking in stages: pond → river → hot spring → waterfall → lake. Ironically, the still lake was the hardest. Haruki demanded that he run across the water without making ripples—as if dancing on glass.
To achieve that, he needed:
Chakra lift to negate weight
Impeccable balance on every step
A reverse-force chakra push to flatten any wave
"Walk on snow without leaving prints. Cross water without making waves. That's my standard."
And so, Haruki pressed forward—silently, fiercely, endlessly.
"Let's go, Hinata Haruki. No one in this world gets to trample me again."