9th September, 9:30 p.m. Hyuga Main House.
Two kids sat in the corridor overlooking the garden, lantern light flickering softly across the tatami.
"Ni-san, I'm telling you—this is suicide…" Nagomi whispered, hugging his knees.
"Shut up, Nagomi. He's not going to eat you," Haruto replied calmly.
"But what if Hiashi-sama opens the door?" Nagomi panicked.
"Don't wo—"
Shhhk
The sliding door in front of them opened.
A tall man stood there, Byakugan glowing faintly in the night.
Nagomi gulped.
"Father, Mother… we are coming…" he whispered to the heavens.
Haruto didn't flinch. He just smiled politely.
The man blinked—then softened. His Byakugan eased, veins settling.
"Oh… it's just Haruto-kun," he exhaled with a small chuckle and sat beside them.
Nagomi's soul returned to his body.
"Good evening, Hizashi-san," Haruto said with a respectful bow.
"Huh—Hizashi-sama??"
Nagomi breathed out in relief. "Phew…"
Haruto began explaining his day at the academy. His tone was calm, articulate — the Hyuga way.
A few minutes later, Nagomi was happily munching rice crackers, completely recovered. Haruto kept detailing every spar, every technique. Hizashi sat upright, absorbing each detail with quiet seriousness.
"So, Haruto-kun," Hizashi said once the boy finished, "the gist is that you had no answer to the grappling portion of Taijutsu."
Haruto nodded, cheeks slightly pink with embarrassment.
Hizashi smiled kindly.
"It's alright. First off, not many people can even get a Hyuga on the ground. Second — you were up against Itachi. He's the Uchiha clan head's son. Trained by monsters."
Haruto looked down.
A picture of Kaen and Tenga popped up in his mind
"Hizashi-san… will I keep losing to Itachi? And other kids of his caliber?…?"
Hizashi stroked his chin.
The boy's not wrong… After yesterday's council, I know exactly which monsters he'll be teamed with. He needs counters.
He stood up.
"Come. Follow me to the dojo."
Haruto's eyes lit up instantly. He jumped to his feet.
Nagomi froze mid-bite.
"Ni-san… can I go home, please?" he whispered like a doomed man.
Haruto just smiled and grabbed his little brother by the collar, dragging him along casually.
Nagomi accepted his fate.
Silently.
Dramatically.
Hyūga Dojo, 10 p.m.
Hizashi stood four meters in front of Haruto, posture straight and sharp.
Nagomi sat cross-legged in the corner, eyes fixed on them like a student watching legends unfold.
"Haruto," Hizashi barked, drill-sergeant tone. "How far can you push your Eight Trigrams formation?"
Haruto straightened his spine instantly.
"Up to Thirty-Two Palms, sir!"
"Good." Hizashi nodded once.
"Remember this — the Gentle Fist is the fastest taijutsu style in the world. And you… were blessed to be born with Byakugan. Without it, this formation is nearly impossible."
Haruto nodded with full attention.
Nagomi leaned forward, practically vibrating.
"There is," Hizashi continued, raising a finger, "one single weakness. And that is…"
He paused, letting suspense build.
"…you guessed it. Grappling."
Both boys' eyes widened — half awe, half relief.
"We Hyūga always knew this weakness," Hizashi said. "But we ignored it. Because in real combat, grappling is about as useful as a toothbrush."
The boys gasped like he'd sworn at the clan gods.
"BUT—" Hizashi's tone shifted, a sly smile forming.
Both boys gulped.
"Eighteen years ago, my father was sent to capture an elite warlord. A terrorist. A monster."
Nagomi couldn't contain himself.
"Did he catch him?"
Haruto quickly shushed him.
Nagomi stuck out his tongue and turned back.
"No," Hizashi said. "He failed."
"WHAT—?!" Haruto burst out. Then immediately bowed.
"Sorry— how, Hizashi-san?"
Hizashi chuckled.
"The warlord's name was Masayoshi Sumbul — a master grappler. According to my father, he had no answer for Sumbul's techniques. Sumbul took him down instantly, snapped his foot, and knocked out the rest of the Konoha shinobi."
"WOAH!" the boys echoed, stunned.
Nagomi's face paled.
"Does… does that mean Byakugan is useless?"
Hizashi shook his head with a proud smirk.
"Quite the contrary. One of the shinobi who got knocked out was also a Hyūga. And he came up with the counterstrategy — the style we now call Ground Gentle Fist."
Both boys leaned forward like puppies waiting for a treat.
"H-Hizashi-san… who was he?" Haruto asked.
Hizashi took a long breath, eyes softening.
"It was your father," he said quietly.
"Hyūga Hitoshi."
Both boys froze — stunned, wide-eyed, completely speechless.
Hizashi closed his eyes and spoke with deep pride:
"He was my sensei. The man who beat Sumbul at his own game. He couldn't capture him… but after that fight, Masayoshi Sumbul was never able to commit another crime."
Silence.
Sacred.
Heavy with legacy.
Haruto swallowed hard. Nagomi wiped his eyes.
"Now," Hizashi said, popping his neck and stretching out his legs, "let's come to the actual technique."
"Haruto — stance."
Haruto immediately slid his left leg forward, right palm tucked near his chest, left palm extended toward Hizashi.
Classic Gentle Fist.
Hizashi, however, dropped into a low Sambo stance — unorthodox, predatory.
And then in a heartbeat, Haruto's world flipped.
Hizashi snatched Haruto's left leg and yanked. Haruto reacted fast, striking downward to counter—
—but hit nothing but air.
"Lesson number one," Hizashi said calmly as Haruto scrambled up, "traditional Gentle Fist focuses too much on the upper body and leaves the lower body exposed. Because in hand-to-hand combat, nothing can rival Gentle Fist… but wrestling is a different beast."
Haruto reset his stance, determination glowing in his eyes.
"Now you try, Haruto-kun."
Haruto mimicked the exact motion Hizashi used earlier.
Good speed, good angle—
—and again, he was flat on his back before he understood what went wrong, Hizashi's two fingers gently pressed at his neck.
"WOAH!" Nagomi gasped, Byakugan flaring half-formed.
Haruto lay there stunned for a second, then laughed breathlessly.
"I… get it now."
Hizashi offered a hand and pulled him up.
"So," he asked, "your analysis?"
"Basically… you positioned your hands to protect your lower body. But—" Haruto squinted, "—how can you still launch a Gentle Fist strike without changing the stance?"
Hizashi smiled, proud.
"That's my boy. And that is where Hitoshi-sensei comes in. Step back — I'll show you."
Haruto returned to his stance, eyes sharp. Hizashi moved in front of him and adjusted his elbows, lowered his center of gravity, shifted weight distribution — a hybrid stance, Gentle Fist and grappling fused.
Nagomi watched from the corner, eyes shining wide.
Ni-san is so smart and cool…
he thought, as any six-year-old would.
===
11th September, 10:00 a.m. — Classroom CS-1
Sarutobi Nozomu stood at the front, chalk moving steadily as he explained the fundamentals of Advanced Chakra Theory.
His class—Kaen, to be precise—nodded along with every point. Each time a question formed in his mind, his hand shot up without hesitation. The questions weren't shallow either; each one widened his understanding and, in turn, drew Nozomu deeper into the lecture itself.
Kaen listened to every detail with meticulous focus, jotting down notes with care and structure.
Finally, Nozomu set the chalk down.
"So, Kaen… that's it for today's lecture. Now, show me the assignment I gave you last class."
Kaen nodded respectfully and walked to the lockers at the back. He pulled out the neatly prepared sheets and returned to the front.
He handed them over obediently.
Nozomu read through the pages slowly, eyes moving line by line.
"I have to say…" he paused, impressed, "…you're remarkably presentable for your age." His gaze lingered on the clean handwriting and organized layout.
He returned the papers to Kaen.
"Alright. I want you to add two more points to this list. First—chakra application in Taijutsu. Use the Hyuga Gentle Fist as your reference. Second—Fuinjutsu."
Kaen's eyes brightened.
"Your Aunt Kushina will help you with that one," Nozomu added.
"Hai, Sensei," Kaen replied, smiling with polite enthusiasm.
---
Academy Ground, 11:00 a.m. — Taijutsu Period
Kaen stepped onto the ground brimming with enthusiasm.
Soma Tenga was already on his mind.
Ever since their last bout, Kaen had been running constant simulations of that shadow-clone feint Tenga pulled. Over and over. Even practiced variations of his own Shadow Clone game, refining angles, timings, exits.
He rushed through the corridors, down the stairs, then another stretch of hallways—until morning light finally spilled into view.
And there he was.
Tenga.
Not sulking in a corner this time.
He sat right in the middle of the crowd.
The center of attention.
Two seats to Tenga's right sat Itachi. To Itachi's left, Rinka.
Itachi was just about to ask Rinka for a spar.
Rinka, meanwhile, silently prayed he wouldn't. Because if he did, she couldn't refuse without being labeled a wimp.
Tenga wasn't watching that, though.
His eyes had been locked on Itachi ever since two days ago—since the moment Itachi surgically dismantled a Hyuga kid older than himself.
From opposite ends of the ground, both Kaen and Tenga called out—
"Ita—"
"Ten—"
Both voices were cut off by a single, firm call.
"SOMA TENGA. Spar with me."
Hyuga Haruto stood there.
The same boy Itachi had fought before.
But this time… his pale eyes carried a quiet confidence. Not arrogance. Something steadier. Something earned.
Kaen slowed to a stop, frowning.
"Meh… he's not gonna accept, right… right?" he muttered to himself.
Tenga stared at Haruto for a long moment.
Then he smiled.
Just a little cocky.
He stood up.
"Bruh," Kaen sighed.
As the two took their positions, Kaen walked over and plopped down beside Rinka—completely oblivious to her presence, just like he had been since day one.
Hyuga Haruto vs. Soma Tenga
The two boys stood four meters apart, hands raised in the Seal of Confrontation.
Five long seconds passed in silence.
"Assume your stances," the instructor barked.
Tenga immediately settled into his familiar kickboxing stance—balanced, loose, confident.
Haruto stepped into the orthodox Hyuga stance… then adjusted.
His right hand, initially angled at ninety degrees, slowly tilted down to sixty. His left palm, once resting near his waist, rose smoothly to neck level.
The posture looked wrong.
So wrong that even a few Hyuga kids snickered under their breath.
But the Uchiha prodigies weren't laughing.
Itachi narrowed his eyes, trying to recall if he'd ever seen this stance before.
Kaen, meanwhile, was already guessing its implications.
"BEGIN!"
Tenga blitzed forward instantly, opening with a sharp jab.
Haruto's veins bulged as his eyes activated.
"Byakugan."
He weaved cleanly.
Tenga retracted the jab and spun clockwise into a spinning punch—but Haruto blocked and grabbed his arm, sending a ripple of discomfort through Tenga's frame.
"Woah," Kaen gasped.
Haruto stepped in, placed his lead leg behind Tenga's, grabbed his shirt, and with a smooth, brutal motion, lifted him for a slam.
Itachi's eyes widened—just slightly.
Midair, Tenga twisted, landing on his feet and slipping free.
"Phew…" he laughed, shaking his arms. "Man, sorry. I underestimated you."
Haruto didn't respond.
He stepped in again.
Now Tenga understood why Itachi hadn't bothered forcing stand-up exchanges before.
Haruto closed the distance, palms flowing toward their target.
"Four Palms."
The academy limit.
Tenga's face twisted in horror as the realization hit—Rinka caught it instantly.
Haruto struck with precision, targeting chakra points methodically.
Tenga collapsed.
POOF.
The body turned into a wooden stump.
"Substitution Jutsu!"
"Ahh—how does he DO that?" Kaen shouted. "Sensei, is this guy getting special classes or what?"
Before Kaen even finished—
Tenga appeared behind Haruto and shot for a single-leg takedown.
Haruto smiled.
He spun like a whip, latched onto Tenga's upper body, and the two wrestled in place for several seconds.
Then Haruto rotated horizontally, slipped behind him, and locked in a rear naked choke.
Tenga's face reddened instantly.
He refused to tap.
Kaen's mouth hung open.
Itachi blinked. Again. And again.
Two days ago… this kid was helpless on the ground.
Now he's pulling Kaen-level grappling.
The instructor's face twisted between concern and disbelief.
"ENOUGH!"
Haruto released instantly.
Tenga slumped forward, half-conscious.
"Winner… Hyuga Haruto."
The class erupted—but not in celebration.
Many booed.
Tenga was the star. Losing like this—slow, technical, suffocating—felt boring to them compared to shadow-clone feints and kunai-point finishes.
The noise died instantly when Kaen started clapping.
He bolted toward Haruto.
"Haruto-san! Haruto-san! I have something to tell you!"
Rinka watched, stunned.
Is he not from the same world as the rest of us? How is he this socially fearless?
Haruto turned, wearing the same gentle smile he always had.
"Yes?"
"I wanted to fight him," Kaen said bluntly. "But you took my chance. And because of that, I called you an idiot, a wimp, a normie, and a weakling."
Itachi snorted.
Rinka's jaw dropped.
IS HE INSANE?
Haruto blinked.
Kaen bowed slightly.
"I'm sorry for everything I said in frustration. Haruto-san… you're my best friend now too."
Haruto paused, processing.
"…Oookay?" he said, chuckling awkwardly.
"AAAHH!"
Tenga suddenly jolted awake as the instructor lifted his legs to restore blood flow.
Without even opening his eyes, Tenga lashed out—grabbing and wrestling the instructor instinctively.
Kaen burst out laughing.
Even Haruto couldn't stop himself.
Itachi watched the three of them talking, a faint mix of admiration and awe settling on his face.
"So this is… Team One," he whispered to himself, just loud enough for Rinka to hear.
"…just like Father said."
His gaze drifted to the edge of the crowd.
A boy in a blue jacket, oversized and old-fashioned glasses resting on his nose—
Aburame Shizo.
Come on… I want to see what you've got, Itachi thought.
He turned back toward Rinka, lips parting—maybe to ask for a spar—
"CLASS OVER. Head back to your classrooms for Ninjutsu period," the instructor announced.
For Kaen, that meant the end of the school day. His Ninjutsu period fell under Chakra Science.
As Kaen turned to leave—
"KAEN."
He stopped and looked back.
"Pondside ground. Two p.m.," Itachi said simply.
Kaen grinned, lifted his thumb, and nodded before heading off.
Itachi watched him go, smiling as well—though a trace of nervousness crept in.
If I don't step it up… I'm going to get left behind.