The courtyard was quiet except for the faint rustle of leaves in the evening breeze. Hizashi stood across from Shigure, his expression unusually solemn.
"As your team leader, I have to admit something," Hizashi said, guilt slipping into his voice. "I've never properly taught you any jutsu. If you hadn't struck at the Evil God Cult and pulled me from death's grip, I wouldn't even be standing here as your instructor."
Shigure tilted his head slightly, sensing the weight in his teacher's words.
Hizashi went on. "Although I don't have authority over the Hyūga main family, what I can assure you is that as long as I live, I won't allow you to be bullied by those arrogant Uchiha in Konoha."
Then his eyes sharpened. "Speaking of them—there's something you should know. A secret letter arrived from the clan. It seems several Uchiha candidates plan to target you during the Chūnin Exams."
Shigure's expression shifted. His obsidian eyes narrowed, but instead of anger, amusement flickered. "The Uchiha? Hmph. In my eyes, they're little more than squawking chickens and barking dogs."
How could he, who had already mastered the third stage of the Flying Thunder God technique, be concerned with a gathering of Genin?
But beneath this bravado, Shigure understood Hizashi's true purpose. His Jonin leader had recently gone back to the Hyūga estate and discovered unsettling entries in the family records. It wasn't Hiashi, the clan head, who revealed it—at least not outright—but Hizashi wasn't a fool. The truth about Shigure's blood flowed too close to the Hyūga to be ignored.
During the mission, Hizashi had caught a glimpse of Shigure's eyes in battle. The boy's speed, reactions, and perception far surpassed ordinary talent. That wasn't mere coincidence—it was bloodline. The Byakugan stirred within him, hidden but undeniable.
Now, Hizashi stood here willing not only to teach, but to draw Shigure closer to the clan. "You are too extraordinary to be left alone," Hizashi thought. If you hold both Uchiha blood and Hyūga blood… then you are not merely a prodigy—you're Konoha's future.
Becoming a Genin at five years old had already been unprecedented. To be accepted as a personal disciple of the Sandaime Hokage at such an age, to defeat a Jonin on his very first mission outside the Land of Fire, and to carry the legacies of two of Konoha's most powerful clans? The name Uchiha Shigure was already resounding like thunder among the village's elite.
By comparison, the so-called "rising stars" of Konoha—Hatake Kakashi under Minato's tutelage, prodigious Uchiha Shisui in Anbu—were older, less versatile in bloodline, and already caught in the shadow of expectation. Shigure walked beside legends while still a child. If Sannin like Jiraiya and Tsunade represented one generation, Shigure seemed poised to leapfrog straight into becoming their equal.
Hizashi exhaled slowly. He was no fool. To ignore this boy would be folly of the highest order.
"Shigure," he finally said, tone calm but intent, "I will not force you to decide anything now. Just remember—whatever choice you make, see it through without regret. That said… allow me to pass on the Hyūga's true art. The Hyūga-ryū Gentle Fist. My own technique."
Shigure suppressed the smile tugging at his lips. So you've finally brought it to me, sensei. He had long awaited this moment. To observe—and more importantly, to copy—the legendary Eight Trigrams Sixty-Four Palms. That combination could shut down even the strongest shinobi by closing every tenketsu in their body. To possess it would make him unstoppable.
He lowered his chin politely. "Sensei, if you wish to fight me… then I'll gladly accompany you."
The decision was easy. Testing Hizashi offered three purposes at once: firsthand mastery of Hyūga taijutsu, an opportunity to mimic their secret arts, and a clearer picture of his jonin instructor's true strength.
Hizashi's eyes softened for just a moment, then grew sharp again. "Good. I also wish to gauge the depth of your strength. Still—remember not to unleash large-scale ninjutsu. We'd prefer to keep the house in one piece."
That drew a rare laugh from Shigure. "Understood."
They both moved to the courtyard's center. Hizashi gave a formal bow, which Shigure returned without hesitation.
"Then let it begin!" Hizashi straightened, veins bulging at his temples as his Byakugan flared to life.
"Incredible," he murmured. "So much chakra… gathered in your very eyes."
Shigure's lips tightened into a grin. "Open!" His own eyes burned with a focused brilliance.
Hizashi lunged first. His palm thrust sent a concussive wave tearing forward. "Eight Trigrams: Vacuum Palm!"
The shockwave howled through the courtyard.
Shigure didn't answer with fire or lightning as usual, but twisted his fingers in a seal. Hair surged from his scalp, fanning outward like a furious mane before hardening into a spiked shield. "Needle Jizō! Chaotic Lion's Mane!"
The wild locks condensed into nine snarling lion heads, their teeth glistening as they snapped toward Hizashi.
Hizashi, calm within his Byakugan's vision, recognized the technique at once. "Jiraiya's move? You wield it well for such a boy!" His stance shifted instantly. Chakra exploded from his body in a spinning tornado.
"Rotation!"
The lions crashed against Hizashi's whirling defense, strands snapping as chakra rebounded. But Shigure had never meant to win here. He had meant to learn.
In a blur, two shadow clones appeared beside him. They darted in, feinting and striking. Hizashi intercepted one with a palm strike that dispersed it into smoke, just as the other hurled a rain of kunai.
"Shuriken Shadow Clone Jutsu!"
The lone handful became hundreds, filling the night with steel. Each shuriken gleamed with a familiar mark—the seal of the Flying Thunder God.
Hizashi's eyes widened fractionally. "The Hokage's forbidden space-time ninjutsu…?" But he couldn't falter. "Rotation!" His spinning defense threw the blades outward again.
Yet this time, thin chakra threads snapped taut from the discarded clones. The storm of glinting steel hovered, suspended, ready to close in the instant his spin stopped.
Hizashi grimaced. Clever boy… he'll bind me in my own blind spot.
He abandoned the spin, instead surging forward. "Eight Trigrams Sixty-Four Palms!"
His hands blurred. "One! Two! Four! Eight! Sixteen!" The courtyard shuddered beneath the rapid-fire pounding of his palms. "Thirty-two! Sixty-four!"
Every strike landed on the rushing shuriken, batting them aside in a storm of perfectly measured blows. Not one scratch touched him.
Watching, Shigure's eyes glittered with delight. The intricate lattice of movements unfolded before him crystal-clear, courtesy of his heightened perception. So this is the Hyūga's secret art… a network of precise strikes to shut down every chakra point. Magnificent.
Hizashi exhaled sharply, arm outstretched from his final palm. "There! You wished for my technique? You've seen it. Now—where is this 'new ability' of yours you boasted?"
Shigure's grin widened. Stepping lightly to the side, he whispered, "Hizashi-sensei… you've already lost."
The air behind Hizashi rippled. A faint seal glimmered where one of those deflected kunai had struck the ground a heartbeat earlier. And from that seal—space bent.
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