"I lost? Shigure, I don't understand what you mean."
Hyūga Hizashi frowned, clearly baffled. From his perspective, he had already broken through the boy's ninjutsu. How could defeat possibly be his?
"Teacher Hizashi, don't you believe it?" Uchiha Shigure's voice carried quiet pride as he straightened up.
"Then let me lose knowingly—and sincerely," Hizashi replied, assuming a ready stance once more.
Shigure raised a hand, his eyes gleaming with confidence. "Then watch carefully, Sensei. It will only take me five seconds to defeat you now."
"Five seconds?" Hizashi's twin brother, Hiashi, who had been quietly observing, raised a brow. The very idea was unnerving. He had personally seen the destructive power of the boy's compound ninjutsu. If Shigure unleashed something of that scale, even he would struggle to guard against it.
But Shigure merely shook his head. "I don't need large-scale ninjutsu this time. I'll prove it another way."
What happened next was subtle but deadly in its simplicity. When Hizashi had destroyed Shigure's shuriken earlier with the Eight Trigrams Sixty-Four Palms, the Hyūga jonin assumed the threat had ended. Yet most of the broken weapon fragments still carried the spatial seals of the Flying Thunder God Technique.
A shimmer of light sliced the air—Shigure vanished in an instant.
The world tilted for Hizashi as he suddenly felt Shigure's chakra signature materialize behind him. By then, it was far too late to mount a defense. A swirling orb of blue chakra, humming with terrifying energy, was poised to crash into his unguarded back.
Rasengan.
Hizashi recognized defeat at once. He dropped his stance with calm resignation. "I've lost," he admitted. Slowly, he exhaled, shaking his head. "To think you've already surpassed me… Uchiha Shigure, you truly are worthy of Konoha's title of super genius."
Shigure let the Rasengan dissipate and lowered his hand politely. But Hizashi's sharp eyes had already picked out the new technique. "That jutsu… that blue sphere. Its destructive power is enormous. And the movement—just now, you didn't use the Body Flicker, did you?"
"No," Shigure replied evenly. "The sphere is something I developed myself. I call it Rasengan. And the movement? That was the space–time ninjutsu known as the Flying Thunder God Technique."
Gasps filled the training hall. Hizashi stepped back in disbelief. "Flying Thunder God? The jutsu created by the Second Hokage, Tobirama-sama? But… you've adapted it further—using clones and weapons as anchors for teleportation across space. In some ways, you've already surpassed the Second Hokage!"
He shook his head ruefully. "Amazing… to think a jonin like me feels inferior to a five-year-old."
Before Shigure could respond with humility, a rhythmic sound interrupted them—pah, pah, pah—slow, deliberate clapping.
Shigure turned sharply as a tall figure entered the hall. He wore a formal kimono, his stern features almost identical to Hizashi's.
"Not bad. Truly not bad!" the newcomer said warmly. "Uchiha Shigure, was it? This match has opened my eyes."
Shigure's expression eased as he bowed politely. "And you must be Hyūga Hiashi—Hizashi-sensei's elder brother."
"Brother?" Hizashi blinked. He hadn't expected Hiashi to appear here. Though the main family could enter branch house grounds freely, Hiashi rarely felt reason to do so. It was almost always the other way around.
Hiashi smiled faintly. "Indeed. I am also a jonin of Konoha. Watching that match just now… it was humbling. In truth, my brother and I together are hardly your equal."
Shigure said nothing in return, letting silence carry his confidence.
Hiashi's tone suddenly shifted, carrying the weight of experience. "Tell me, Hizashi—how long has it been since we last fought side by side?"
Hizashi stiffened. "Brother? What are you suggesting?"
"I wish to join forces with you," Hiashi answered, his gaze never leaving Shigure. "Watching the boy's movement just now stirred something in me. I long to test myself again… though alone, I admit I would surely lose."
"You propose we fight him together?" Hizashi asked incredulously.
Why not? Hiashi's lips curved into the faintest grin. "It's been years since the two of us unleashed our strength in tandem. And if we don't challenge this boy now, we may never again see such an opportunity."
Shigure tilted his head, uncertain. But then Hiashi added gravely, "If you defeat us, I will tell you everything I know about your mother."
That struck deep. Shigure's eyes hardened with determination. "Very well. Come at me. I'll continue."
The brothers exchanged a knowing look and both nodded. Their expressions sharpened from casual to deadly serious. After all, though their opponent was young, his power was undeniable.
"How embarrassing," Hiashi muttered, adjusting his stance. "That the two of us, together, must fight a mere five-year-old."
Hizashi flicked his hair back, his Byakugan veins swelling to life. "He is no ordinary child, brother. He may well become the most promising shinobi the world has seen."
"Ready yourself, Shigure," Hiashi called.
Shigure smirked. "I was born ready."
The match began in a blur. The Hyūga brothers surged forward, swift as shadows, trying to press Shigure into close-range combat where their Gentle Fist was unmatched. Shigure drew a cluster of shuriken and scattered them like silver rain.
But the activated Byakugan left no blind spot. Hiashi and Hizashi batted every blade aside with casual precision. Their Gentle Fist struck so deftly that the marked shuriken bearing Flying Thunder seals shattered midair—nullifying Shigure's space anchors.
"As expected of the Hyūga mainline…" Shigure admired inwardly, even as his hands flashed into a seal. With a puff of smoke, five shadow clones burst into existence, each rushing the Hyūga brothers with coordinated speed.
"This boy's clones… troublesome!" Hizashi muttered, weaving between two at once. Each time the brothers struck, clones flickered back, breaking formation.
Hiashi's patience thinned. He exchanged a glance with his brother. Both nodded. Their bodies blurred as they launched into synchronized strikes.
"Eight Trigrams, Sixty-Four Palms!"
The graceful, deadly pattern of strikes pounded into the clones. One by one, the replicas exploded into plumes of smoke, dispersing until only a single copy remained.
Shigure's trap had been set. That last clone dashed boldly into their combined assault. And just as Hiashi readied to finish it—Shigure himself swapped places, hurtling into the narrow space between the brothers.
Both Hyūga smirked, their timing flawless. They had anticipated his appearance—prepared to unleash their true joint attack.
"You lose this time, Shigure!" Hizashi declared.
"Eight Trigrams, One Hundred and Twenty-Eight Palms!"
Together, their hands blurred faster than sound. To the Byakugan, it looked as though every tenketsu in Shigure's body was being sealed at once.
In the storm of strikes, even Shigure faltered. The Hyūga twins were frightening when united, their rhythm exact, their resolve absolute.
But then the impact struck a hollow resonance—followed by a telltale bang! Smoke parted through the hall.
Hiashi's eyes widened. "A Substitution Jutsu?"
"When?!" Hizashi demanded, spinning to search. "When did he—?!"
Hiashi swept with a burst of chakra, his palm thrusting outward. "Eight Trigrams: Air Palm!"
The force blasted the replacement clone across the floor, scattering its features before it dissolved into smoke. But Shigure's real body was nowhere in sight. Hiashi's Byakugan darted across the training ground, scanning every corner.
"Where is he hiding?" Hizashi said, tense now. "Brother—can you see him?"
Even the Byakugan, sharp as it was, struggled to track space-time flux. For the first time in years, the Hyūga twins shared not confidence—but unease.
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